#this move will make my town feel a bit less cramped

[pie-bean]

I'm moving my museum! Now I just need to take care of these flowers...

[daisykihannie]

Heyo!! I was wondering if you could write a smut with Felix and a FtM reader? Just your typical vanilla smut I don’t see this man doing anything else /imo . (Idol AU)

𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚎 | 𝙻.𝙵𝚇

pairing: idol!Felix x ftm!reader

warning: porn with too much plot, vanilla, soft, sweet, making love not fucking, NSFW

a/n: I'm sorry it took me a few days to write! I'm also sorry there's so much plot! I had an idea of how to have you and an idol meet and it turned out so much longer to explain than intended but I hope you enjoy anyways!

Today was Thursday, the day you and your best friend were leaving for California. The both of you being huge Stays and you both were not only able to get floor seats to their concert but you were also able to get tickets for the fan meet. The concert was on Saturday and the fan meet was on Sunday. You both wanted to stay in California for a bit to explore the sights so you'll get there today and won't come home to your shitty little home town until Monday.

"Omg y/n! I can't believe this is actually happening!" your friend exclaimed while skipping around your shared apartment packing. unable to contain their excitement. "did you really just say o-m-g??" you teased, laughing at your best friends antics.

"Shut up y/nnie! I'm gonna die of excitement so my brain isn't working!" they pouted and you couldn't help but to laugh. "When has your brain ever worked though?" you asked while folding a shirt to put in your suit case.

Suddenly your best friend jumped on your back while you leaned over to put the shirt in the luggage that was spread open on your couch. You stumbled a little out of surprise but we're able to stay balanced and standing, bursting into a fit of laughter as the koala clinging to your figure.

"Get off me so I can pack dummy." you said, moving your arms to hold their shins that wrapped around your front so they didn't fall and get hurt. "Nope! you hurt my feelings so this is your punishment!" they said, snorting while holding in their own laughter. "Alex, come on-" you said while wrapping your arms behind your back to reach their very ticklish sides and began to tickle them, causing them to squirm and lose their grip on you, falling to the floor on their back.

You took the opportunity to tackle them on the ground and keep tickling them, they were thrashing and kicking trying to get away but failing none the less. After a bit of torturing Alex, you both were laughing so hard that you had to catch your breath. Them still laying on their back, their knees bent and you sitting on your knees, leaned onto the heels of your feet. After a bit longer packing, you were somehow successful in packing everything in the car and were ready to drive the 12 hours to Los Angeles.

It was now 7pm and you just got up to your shared hotel room with your best friend. Luckily you each had separate beds and we're able to afford the room with a small kitchen, a lounge/living area, and two separate rooms conjoined by a bathroom. It was a really nice hotel room. Honestly quite a bit nicer than your apartment but oh well, this is LA, that's to be expected.

"Let's order dinner. What do you want?" you asked Alex, both of you still laying on your back, stretched out on your bed in the hotel. Neither of you moving to grab your phones to order. "Hmmmm fried chicken and beer?" Alex suggested. "Sounds good." you said, neither of you moving still.

after a few minutes of neither of you ordering Alex spoke up "Who's ordering?" "uhhhhhh" you responded, groaning and sitting up to grab your phone, opening Doordash to place the order. "okay. it'll be here in 30 minutes. I'm gonna go shower." you said, standing up and opening your luggage to grab a baggy black tee-shirt and a pair of boxers before heading to the bathroom and setting the water.

The shower helped relax your cramped muscles from driving for 12 hours. Alex was your permanent passenger prince/princess since they didn't have a license but normally you don't mind since you enjoy driving but 12 hours straight? that's a different story.

After your shower you walked out, wrapped in a towel, not bothering to cover your chest even though you haven't had too much surgery yet, it's still a man's chest and Alex has been your platonic soulmate since you were little. You've both seen each other naked and there's nothing to it. Shit, you both knew things about each other that should've just never been said but, that's how close you two were.

Alex was sitting on the couch in the lounge area, while you got dressed. They say on their phone with the chicken and beer on the small coffee table, waiting for you to start eating. You grabbed the remote from the entertainment center and sat next to Alex, your presence making them put up their phone and open a can of beer for the both of you while you searched Netflix for something to watch.

Both of you decided to start a new Anime. One called Blue Period that looked good and you both had seen people talking about on tiktok a couple times. "Ooh! let's take a photo for Instagram!" Alex said holding up their phone side ways, both of you posing, making sure your chicken, beer, and the hotel could be seen from the shot. "let's take one for my instagram." you said, both of you repeating the same process but you took the picture this time. You both posted and focused on the TV.

It was now Friday afternoon. You and Alex were walking around the outdoor mall to find your concert and fan meet outfits. You decided to find a Felix inspired outfit since he is your bias and Alex was gonna do a Han inspired outfit, him being their bias.

You two were laughing and eating two giant pretzels you'd gotten from Auntie Anne's when you bumped into someone, closing your eyes to brace for the pain about to hit your butt, but you never hit the floor. Opening your eyes you see a man with a black baseball cap, a black face mask, and the prettiest brown eyes you've ever seen.

"I'm so sorry. are you okay?" he asked in a thick Australian accent that made butterflies explode in your stomach. "I'm doing so much better now that I'm in the arms of such a beautiful man." You flirted to hide your embarrassment, you're a natural flirt and he was pretty. What were you supposed to do? NOT flirt with him?

The man helped you back to your feet, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. "Well um, thank you. I'm glad your okay." he said and looked at his feet shyly.

so fucking adorable omg I could just eat him-

That's when he noticed your pretzel was on the ground. "Oh shoot- your pretzel. Here, let me buy you a new one." he said grabbing your wrist and dragging you just a few feet away but to the Auntie Anne's stand. "You don't have to Hun. It was only like $10." you said trying to reassure him that he didn't need to spend his money on you.

"it's the least I can do after running into you and making you drop your pretzel. You didn't even get a chance to take a bite of it yet." the masked man said, not taking no for an answer. You let out a giggle at how adorable he was being "You know you're really cute. You should give me your number." you said while he paid the worker and handed you the brand new pretzel.

He laughed at your statement. "I wish I could but really, I can't do that." he said regretfully. This man was having a really fun time with you but there's no way he could give out his number. "Awe~ do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend already? or maybe you're not into guys?" you asked in a teasing tone and a pout on your lips.

"No no no- it's nothing like that. it's just-" the man was cut off by your response. "Oh~ so you are into guys?" you couldn't help the urge to tease him. He was too adorable when he got flustered even though you could only see half his face, his ears turned a bright pink again at your teasing.

"I didn't say that!" he said, flustered. "So you're straight?" you asked with another pout and puppy dog eyes, causing the Australian to look away. "No- okay I'm Bi. happy?" he asked, still avoiding your eyes in embarrassment.

"I'd be happy if the pretty man that just told me he is in fact into guys, gave me his number." you said continuing your teasing. "Look- how about this. I'll make you a deal." the male started. You gave him puppy dog eyes, tilting your head to show you were listening.

"I'm only in LA for a couple days. If we somehow meet again while I'm here, then I'll give you my number. It's like a test of fate. If we are meant to talk more, then fate will bring us back together." he said and you couldn't help but smile. "Deal." you said holding out your hand for him to shake. His small hands clasp around your large ones in a firm hand shake. "Your hands are adorable by the way." you said and walked away, back to Alex who was waiting for you, scrolling through their phone, seeing you the two of you went back to shopping while you kept thinking about the male you'd just met.

You both finished shopping and went back to the hotel and did a mini fashion show for each other to decide what you'd wear tomorrow to the concert. The concert is tomorrow and you were about to jump out of your own skin with excitement. You two have been Stays since the pre-debut survival show and this is the first concert you'd been able to actually go to.

After deciding on your outfits, you both got dressed and decided to go out for dinner. It was a nice restaurant and the two of you were seated on the balcony, surrounded by fairy lights. You both decided to capture the moment taking a few photos together again, sipping on the wine you'd ordered and talking about what the setlist might be.

The nightlife in LA was gorgeous. So many pretty sights, people all around, etc. You two were walking on the Santa Monica peer after eating your dinner, slightly tipsy, just enjoying the cool breeze on your faces, blowing through your hair. You couldn't wait for tomorrow.

Today's the day of the concert and to say you were about to pee your pants was an understatement. You were excited, anxious, scared, nervous, giddy, etc. You were wearing your Felix inspired outfit based off what he wore in the Party's not over MV. Alex was wearing Han's outfit from the same music video. You were matching while representing your biases, the sunshine twins.

You guys were standing in line outside the venue, tickets pulled up from your emails. This was gonna be the longest 30 minutes ever. Just 30 minutes till you get to see your boys in person, live, sweating, performing, singing, rapping, everything you waited years to see what's finally happening in just 25 minutes.

You and Alex found your seats, barricade seats almost completely in the middle. You were so close you could reach out and touch the stage. Suddenly the lights dimmed and the concert was starting.

Your eyes were locked on Felix almost all night. You two making eye contact a few times. Him throwing flying kisses at you as well. It all still felt like a dream. It came to the fan service part and Felix sat at the edge of the stage in front of you and Alex. For some reason Felix felt drawn to you. There was some sort of connection there that he couldn't explain.

When he sat down and complimented you and Alex's outfits, recognizing them, your eyes met and it hit him why there was a connection. The mall. You were the flirty guy who he told to let fate decide if you should get his number. He recognized you but you seemed to star struck to piece it together.

Han joined Felix when he saw him and complimented Alex on their outfit noticing it was his outfit from the MV to Party's not over. They called the other members over to see and they all got really excited and told you two that next time you should dress as the other members. They jokingly argued about who before separating and going to the other fans.

Felix couldn't stop staring at you for the rest of the concert. Wondering if you figured it out. Finally at the end of the concert and the boys were leaving the stage it clicked. "Holy shit!" you screamed at Alex, both of you still unable to hear well from the loud music.

You both picked up McDonald's on the way back to the hotel. When you both got undressed, took showers, and sat down to watch anime and eat the McDonald's, you decided to explain the situation to Alex.

"no shit! no fucking way! how can you tell? the guy at the mall's face was almost completely covered." Alex said in shock. "I know that but the eyes are the same, the deep Australian voice, the way he walks, the size of his hands, the ring on his index finger, all of it is identical! I swear it was him and I think he recognized me too! did you see how he kept staring at me like I was the idol?" you were slightly raising your voice out of shock from the realization.

Fate brought you two back together and tomorrow is the fan sign where it'll be your third meeting. He can't fight fate on this. But how TF is he going to react? He promised to give you his number but he's an idol. there's no way he'll actually be able to give it to you. You now understand why he couldn't give it to you at the mall.

Today's the fan meet. You decided to wear Felix's outfit from the maxident trailer today for the fan meet. You were honestly so antsy after your discovery that you couldn't stay still. Your mind was going a million miles a minute. You gotta keep your composure. Be your flirty self. Don't show him that you were about to cry bc you had flirted with Felix, an internationally famous idol, no.

You and Alex were moving further up the line until Alex was next. From left to right it was oldest to youngest. Chan being the first one you'd meet and Jeongin being the last. You were shaking just a little bit. Antsy and excited as you watched everyone make their way down the line, holding hands and interacting with the boys.

"Next!" You heard the manager yell and jumped slightly. It was your turn now. You walked up the steps of the platform to where Chan sat, sitting in front of him and intertwining your hands like you two had done this a million times before.

"And what's your name handsome?" Chan asked you and you remembered one of his messages on bubble. "Didn't you say my name was Mrs. Bang? I think Mr. Bang fits me better tho don't you think?" you said leaning forward with your normal flirty behavior, taking Chan off guard before he laughed. "I did say that didn't I?" he asked with a chuckle. "So it's Y/N Bang." you responded and he wrote a cute little message next to his signature for you.

You continued flirting with each member down the line and now you were sat in front of your mystery man. You two locking eyes and a smirk grew on your lips when his eyes went wide seeing you yet again. "Hmmmm it seems fate has caused us to meet three times now. I think you owe me something now." you said leaning forward, elbows on the table and your chin resting on your hands.

"Y/N... now you know why I can't give you my number. But..." He paused looking around to make sure no one was looking and flipped to the back of your album before writing something. "a deal is a deal and I'm a man of my word." he said, unable to resist the pull you had on him.

He handed the album next to him to Seungmin since you'd be meeting him next. "I don't know why I'm doing this but there's just something about you that-" he was cut off when you leaned even closer to him. "what? makes you wanna ruin me? makes you wanna hear what I sound like when you have me in bed?" you whispered teasing him and moving your feet up his shin teasing him. "Fuck..." he mumbled in response as the images flooded his head.

Your time was up and as you stood, you walked shaking your hips a bit at Felix knowing he was watching you and his eyes finding their way to your ass. He bit his lips as he felt a bit restricted in his pants. Thank God for the table and table cloth that hit the floor.

After going all the way through, you told Alex that you needed to run to the restroom really quick. There were only a few people after you so, Felix should be able to check his phone soon. Your timing had to be perfect. You went into the men's restroom and checked that all the stalls were empty. You pulled out your phone taking a mirror pic of yourself. Your shirt pulled up, the hem of it between your teeth showing your abs a bit, hooking your thumb into the waistband of your pants to pull them down, exposing your V-line and just a little bit of stubble underneath.

After taking the lewd pic, you typed in the number written in the back of your album and sent it to Felix. You put yourself back together, washing your hands and your phone chimed. A message from Felix already.

"You- I know where that bathroom is. don't go anywhere." was all the message said. You love the chase but you were too intrigued to not listen. Soon after Felix walked into the bathroom to see you sitting on the sink counter waiting for him.

"God- I don't understand what the fuck your doing to me BUT- I can't help myself. Can I touch you?" he asked and fuck, being asked for consent has never been more sexy than when Felix did it.

"I'd be pretty upset if you didn't to be honest." you said as you stepped between your legs, placing his hands on your jaw and pulling you in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet with a bit of heat in it. like Felix was fighting everything inside him to take you on that counter. It was so hot feeling him fighting his own self control all because of you.

You and Felix couldn't keep your hands or mouths off each other as you walked into his hotel room, both of your clothes flying everywhere. Soft moans and pants leaving your mouth as his lips were attached to your neck, walking you backwards and onto his bed. You finished taking off your pants and boxers to expose your soaked cunt. He removed his pants to free his rock hard cock.

The tip was red and angry, leaking pre-cum as he paused at the sight in front of him. You were on your back, legs spread, propped up on your elbows, staring up at him through your eyelashes. Lust and Need displayed onto your face. "Like what you see?" you asked him as he licked his lips at the sight. Your dick glistening while your hole was clenching around nothing.

"Fuck- you're so fucking pretty." he growled, climbing back on top of you, his cock rubbing against yours, a groan erupting from your throat as you threw you head back. He took the opportunity to continue sucking on your neck. Your hands tangled into his hair as you began rolling your hips to rub your dicks together.

A low growl escaped from his chest at the friction. "you're so fucking wet. god-" he groaned as he moved his hand between your bodies, using your arousal to lube his index and middle finger, rubbing them between your folds. "Can I fuck you with my fingers pretty boy?" he asked and there it was again. Consent was sexy.

"Please lix" you purred at the man as he pushed his fingers inside of you, curling them to hit your sweet spot. A loud, almost pornographic, moan falling from your lips, the hand in his hair tightening a bit at the feeling. "You're so fucking tight. you feel so fucking good on my fingers." he praised against your chest, leaving kisses and hickeys along the soft skin.

He fucked you on his fingers for a bit before he pulled them out of you, locking eyes with yours while you were panting from how he was working his magic. He stuck out his tongue, pushing the coated fingers into his mouth and moaning around them. "You taste sweeter than I thought." he said before kissing you again, the same softness and need in it as before. You could taste yourself on his tongue, making you moan into his mouth.

"L-lix please... I need you." you panted against his mouth when you two separated for air. This time he didn't need to ask for consent. He reached into the pocket of his jeans that were in a pile on the floor, pulling out a condom (always stay prepared). You took it from his hands and scooted up on the bed so your head was rested on the pillows, maintaining eye contact while opening the package with your teeth.

He took the chance to follow you up the bed, kneeling between your spread legs, cock twitching and leaking in need. After taking the condom out of the package you rolled it down his length teasing him a bit and stroking your hand up and down a few times before lining him up with your entrance and letting him push into you.

He pushed in slowly with a groan, feeling you wrap around him. "Fuck you feel so fucking good. so tight." he said and stopping once he bottomed out inside you to let you adjust. He noticed your tight grip on the sheets as he took your hand into his and kissed your knuckles, soothing you the best he could.

After a few moments of Felix staying still and peppering your hands, arms, neck, and face with kisses, you finally adjusted to his size. "You- you can move now." you said letting out airy breaths, making eye contact with the blonde above you with a small smile of reassurance that you were okay.

He attached your lips together in a slow, passionate, kiss before slowly pulling out and pushing in again. He kept the pace slow and soft, feeling every inch of you wrapping around his length. He was letting out deep and airy moans against your lips while intertwining his fingers into yours and handing your hands, pinning them to the bed next to you head in a romantic way.

You two were in such sync that it was a little scary. Every touch on your body felt like sparks to fuel the fire forming in the pit of your stomach as he took his time with you. It was unlike any other time you've had sex. You were used to rough and fast paced sex. Bordering on hate-fucking but this was miles apart from that.

Felix put so much passion and care into every movement and touch. It was soft, slow, and sensual and in no way boring as most people would think vanilla sex would be like. Every single nerve ending was heightened and it made you feel high. The way he praised you, kissed you, made you feel good, and the way he took care of your body and mind every single step of the way.

You were feeling a familiar knot forming in your stomach as Felix's pace and thrusts became a bit sloppier than before and you could feel him twitching inside of you. You were both getting close. "F-felix... I'm- I'm cl- close." you whimpered out, kissing him again, a bit sloppier and needier before but none of the passion and care from before was missing.

"Me too baby- fuck. Please, cum for me." He moaned, almost begging. Hearing his deep voice, raspy and begging you to cum on his cock was all it took to have your body tumbling over the edge of the cliff into one of the strongest orgasms you've ever experienced. You were moaning loudly, tears began to fall from your eyes as the pure ecstasy ripped through your body.

Felix chased his own high as you tightened around him when you came, pushing him over the edge. His deep moans creating a perfect harmony with your own moans. His left chaste kisses down your body as he pulled out, falling to the side as you both panted heavily. Stars were still filling your vision.

Felix was playing with your hands, his head on your chest and one leg rested over your thighs. Both of you hit with exhaustion and just enjoying each other's company. "Here in a bit, let me run you a bath and get you cleaned up yeah?" he said while using his hand to push the hair clinging to your forehead out of your face, smiling at you when your eyes met again. You nodded softly with a smile of your own "that sounds great." you replied and kissed his forehead softly.

~Back at the Hotel~

"God! I can't believe they just fucking left me there!" Alex was pacing in the hotel room after having taken an Uber back since again, they can't drive. Leaving your car at the venue.

They'd already texted you a million and one times, leaving thousands of missed calls. They called you again, leaving yet another voicemail. "[Your first, middle, and last name] I swear to fuck that dick you're getting better be worth leaving me at the venue! You better get home in the next 30 minutes or I'm using your credit card to treat myself as an apology!"

[lorrensflowergarden]

My Story as an artist, writer & story enthusiast, just trying to make a way through the world.

How I Started:

Ok, let's start from the beginning with a brief summary.

I grew up in what used to be a small town, with a very big family inside a medium sized house- news flash- it was still too small, yes we had at least three to four tv's at one time and yes someone was always either hogging the bathroom, or the toilet.

We weren't "dirt poor", but we weren't well off or anything and I came with a few 'gifts' (health issues) *a-hem!* when I was born so in and out of hospital from since I was a baby until the age of seventeen when I got to decide to stop all of the surgeries, doctors appointments and junk and just try to live my life as best I can because it was just causing me just as much grief as my health issues and by then I was functional enough to do well without any more.

Anyway; being a kid coming from a kinda poor, less privileged background and being a little on the 'odd side'; I got bullied a fair bit. Teachers didn't do anything, the other kids parents didn't care and even my parents stopped wanting to hear about it because they didn't know what to do, no one knew what to do with me, or knew how to handle me etc, bla, bla, cliche, cliche, yeah I know; it was a whole thing that I'm not gonna get into it right now if ever.

Moving on; I should have left in year ten and started working on my own projects then, but I was pretty well broken by then; I had no confidence, very little self worth, or self esteem and my parents wanted me to get a "regular job" -Ick, that has Never been for me and like I said I was pretty broken by then to the point where I was barely functioning and my teachers of course sold us the whole 'If you don't finish year 12, you'll never get a job anyway and I had no real functioning support system so what the heck was I supposed to do right?

I felt pretty stuck. So I stayed and finished school.

Although I didn't even do all that well. With the way they explained how the whole system was supposed to work; many of us who were not 'Scholars' or even just average, probably shouldn't have passed and yet, graduation came and we all passed. So that was basically just a whole lot of nothing that I had just wasted my last two years on.

Then there was prom. I loved being able to dress up and the dancing was pretty fun, but I was still struggling so much on the inside and I always look back and can't help but feel like it was a waste and just what was it all for y'know?

Then I quit art and writing because school and well meaning family members killed my passion and confidence for ever making it in either industry and I tried to "fix myself" with boyfriends; who weren't even really boyfriends, more like just guys who strung me along because I was starved for affection and of course I let them treat me really badly because when you're hurting as much as I was, you really can't see, think, or act right.

I let them mess me up emotionally and mentally for a really long time even after school was over. Finally escaped a cramped, chaotic home, only to end up in an even worse situation in a bad part of town. Thankfully only lasted about a year, or so there before moving back home.

I had started writing again and even looking into getting something published, but that all fell through and I lost hope completely again for a while.

But then I started pursuing art again.

I had already lost so much and trying to get a regular job wasn't working either so I thought 'What more could I possibly lose that I hadn't already?'

So; I bought some supplies and started making things and I made my first sales with my decorated little macaroon containers at a family friends birthday party.

I was completely over the moon and so thankful that something had finally worked for me.

At first family was fairly supportive; I'd started a facebook page, had a gofundme to help me gain some more support and get more supplies, but it was hard to keep up with and the support around me just wasn't consistent. (It is probably glaringly obvious that healthy consistency just was not a constant in my life unfortunately.) However I did keep going for a while, but I still grew steadily more and more discouraged especially with Facebook wanting me to fork out money just to boost my own posts and what not; I got sick of it, closed my page and eventually left the app altogether.

It took me a long time to get back in that saddle again, but then I came across Instagram and slowly began to build something upon that. I got some more sales; I was trying my hand at making a lot more different things, my skills improved, but it still wasn't consistent enough- I wasn't consistent enough and again, neither was the support around me.

Is that their fault? Or mine? Both; whenever I would voice that I needed more support and help, I would get a bit, but it would just be a one off and then they would wonder why I wasn't growing or getting much of anywhere; because doing everything by yourself especially in a product based business and extremely competitive market is very much like trying to move a concrete wall with just your bare hands and your own physical strength.

You need A LOT in order to get something to give.

And being someone who's always struggled with mental, physical and emotional health issues; that just makes it even harder.

Going forward after having finally moved out of home again, but having to move again within a year to another house down the street and around the corner from there; I started looking into local markets that I could go and try to sell my work at.

I started making quirky, crafty things like;

•Dioramas

•Customized handbags

•Customized little containers shaped like macaroons that you could store tiny things in

•Customized journals

•Handsewn plush toys

I was making these things throughout the week, but a lot of it was made the night before (Would NOT RECOMMEND) I would take them and try to sell them at a local market in town every second Sunday.

Here is what I learned.

The market was not advertised enough so we didn't get as much foot traffic as you would think even for a small city; it was pretty bad most of the time and those who did go wanted everything for just the tiniest amount as if it was still the 1930's or something.

Not every table holder there was trying to sell off their clutter and brick a brack; there were plenty of makers, crafters and other whatnots there as well; real professionals and while the few that I spoke to were quite kind (if memory serves me well), but what I heard from them was very disheartening, especially for a beginner.

They were all used to just marking down their prices so that they could get sales and at least be able to make the booth fee. It was only $15, but even that was difficult to make some days; even if your stuff was good quality because you just could not pick how people were going to react, what they will want and whether or not they were going to buy from you, etc. It was always really nerve-wracking, but nothing could ever really beat the feeling of at least making a few sales -AND being able to cover the table fee.

Unfortunately; in order to even get 'Some' sales, I naively took the advice of family members whom had never even really tried to do what I was trying to do before and I brought my prices down quite low as well and they weren't that high to begin with. So I wasn't really making any money, I was stressed out to the point of nearly being sick before each market.

I only lasted a few months before I started skipping going to those markets altogether because it felt like a complete waste and I was losing money left and right, not to mention I was wasting fuel and I had made an even further mistake of allowing family members to sell things alongside me in exchange for the extra help. (Not surprising that they did better than me because of better resources, better support and people generally tend to want to support younger makers more etc.)

So naturally I was pretty discouraged and even not that long after I stopped going; those markets stopped running altogether.

It took me a while to find the courage to try again.

But I started making more, better stuff and then I started looking at renting a small area in my local shopping centres - Unfortunately WAYYYY too expensive for me to do on my own - $2'000 for just a week; OUCHIES. >.<;;

Anyway; I had almost given up when one shopping centre manager called me back with a suggestion for me to join a group of other small businesses and rent a table spot with them.

I sent the organizer a message; we set everything up, I got my insurance plan and filled out all of the paper work, I tried it out and I Loved it.

It was the most fun I had Ever had working.

It did take a while for people to get to know me and my work and I improved a lot along the way; was able to increase my prices because of it and I worked stalls there with that group for around two years, or almost; also while working festivals, other local markets and events.

It was so much fun and I learned a lot, but unfortunately my health issues were still really bothering me, the long hours took a heavy toll and then the Pandemic kind of put a huge damper on everything and then the person organizing these group stalls decided it was too hard to keep up with it all and wanted to just go solo- honestly fair, although I was really disappointed at the time.

So I was once again sent adrift and had to try to figure out what to do next.

But then our lease ran out; we couldn't find another place to rent because of the housing crisis due to the Pandemic; so my siblings and I had to seperate. Some of us had to move in with family, others with friends and it was just a really rather rotten time for all of us.

I spent the next few years rather unwell and in a heavy depression over it all. I felt useless, helpless and just like dead weight although I still contributed with food and whatnot; I just felt like absolute rubbish for the longest time.

Then, we found out about another local market in the area I was currently living with family and we started trying it out; unfortunately it was very similar to the first market I had ever started going to.

•Poorly advertised

•Locals weren't all that willing to pay full price

•And I listened to bad advice just to get some sales because I was desperate

•We had so little help and support that it was just ridiculous that in the end, it didn't really seem worth it either.

Now of course, my own mind set could have been better and I was still making plenty of stupid decisions myself out of desperation, but I was just surrounded by so much negativity all of the time as well; both externally and internally and that's a very tough hole to crawl out of.

Then the lease where I was staying with family was running out and they were all moving away to try to find better opportunities in another town.

Look out for Part 2 if you're interested in reading more and if not; I'll be posting pics of my earlier art pieces if you want to take a look at that instead.

Either way; thank you for reading and take care.

All the best,

L. 🌼💛

[dragonageguard]

Striking a Balance: Modernization vs. Tradition in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Dragon Age: The Veilguard had a tough call to make. Dropping a decade after 2014’s Inquisition, it could either stick to the series’ complex mechanics and risk feeling outdated or modernize enough to fit in and possibly lose that Dragon Age vibe, which is why fans who buy Xbox games often feel such a connection to the series' evolution. It went with the second option and mostly nailed it—but, as with everything in Dragon Age, that choice comes with its own consequences. You can see this right away in combat—there are only two companions instead of three, you can only control the player character, and the ability wheel has barely any companion skills to pick from. By that description, it might sound more like a fantasy version of Mass Effect than a true Dragon Age game. And honestly, that’s not such a bad thing.

Character Customization and Respeccing in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

So, my Rook was a vibe, though, 'cause respeccing is mad easy and free as long as you stick to your class. I mainly rolled as a Saboteur Rogue, messing around with gadgets and explosions, but also dipped into being a Duelist with some sick necrotic stabs and a Veil Ranger archer, which makes me want to buy PS5 games that offer similar versatility. Some peeps might miss the nitty-gritty stuff, but this simpler setup really sparks creativity and avoids the hassle of passing down gear to less popular squad members. No cap, though, this makes the gameplay feel kinda shallow. The quests are more like ‘mission mode’ instead of just roaming around, but it doesn’t lose that depth. It starts off a bit rough—way too much backstory at the beginning, and the early quests are super short and kinda whack. By the time I had to decide which city to help out first, I was low-key confused about which one was which. But eventually, the vibes of these places hit different. The two big cities, Minrathous and Treviso, feel a bit too cramped with their narrow streets, and keeping Minrathous stuck to Dock Town is a big oof. But as you check out areas with more character, you start to appreciate those meaningful visits way more.

Clever Companion Arcs in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

This quest design is super clever thanks to the companions. Throughout the game, all seven of them have their own personal arcs, which is typical for squad-based RPGs. But these arcs come in three flavors: Quests, Conversations, and Outings. Quests are your regular missions, Conversations are more like interactive cutscenes, and Outings are basically chill walking simulators. This mix keeps things fresh and helps you bond with the squad better. It’s a solid way to use a smaller cast, giving them more meaningful roles, so you don’t even notice they’re fewer in number than what Dragon Age usually has. Plus, their stories connect with the main quest at different points, so it doesn’t feel like anyone’s just tagging along. Some of these quests are the best parts of The Veilguard, especially how Taash’s and Emmrich’s stories dive deeper into Dragon Age lore. But Neve’s arc kinda fizzles out, and the similar structure sometimes puts them in a creative box. You can definitely feel the writing getting squeezed into gameplay formulas instead of flowing naturally and letting everything else build around it.

Missed Opportunities with Solas in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Speaking of cracks starting to show, Dragon Age: The Veilguard totally drops the ball when it comes to moving on from Solas. Instead of diving deep into a character we know and respect, who has clear motivations and room for redemption, we end up focusing on two evil gods who just revel in their own badness. I say ‘caring,’ but honestly, that’s not even the right vibe. It feels like The Veilguard plays it safe instead of taking the bolder route. It’s surprising, especially since there are some brave choices throughout the game. Remember when I mentioned picking a city? Well, that whole storyline—like five to ten hours of quests and exploration—gets completely cut off based on your decisions. And no spoilers, but The Veilguard doesn’t hold back on the weight of some of the late-game choices you get to make.

Shifting Focus to Heroes in Dragon Age: The Veilguard

The cool thing about focusing on two distant and flat entities is that it shifts the spotlight to the good guys instead of just trying to stop the bad ones. By using the maps and a smaller cast, The Veilguard really hones in on those more human stories within the different factions. Sure, the whole world-ending vibe kinda overshadows things, but it also leads to some of the best side quests and smaller narrative moments BioWare has ever created. Dragon Age: The Veilguard is definitely a different vibe compared to other Dragon Age games, and that might turn some folks off. But it still delivers on that solid character writing, builds a rich world through narrative quests, and offers the most thrilling combat the series has seen. There’s definitely a stronger version of The Veilguard lurking in there, one with more Solas and companion arcs that feel more natural, but what we have is still a solid successor to Dragon Age: Inquisition and a much-needed return to form for BioWare.

[hazellight11]

Just had a horrible past one hour ✌️

I had work at 1pm so i woke up at 10, checked tumblr and other stuff on my phone for about an hour, and then around 11 i was about to get out of bed when i picked at a pimple on my face and it started bleeding more than i expected it could so i waited for my sister to be done in our shared bathroom so i could get ready and also like, check out just how much my forehead was bleeding bc my mirror in my room has shit lighting. But some combination of seeing the blood and not having eaten enough yesterday made me lightheaded/nauseous so i asked my sister to get me a glass of orange juice from downstairs when she was done on the toilet and she refused but fortunately my parents were home so my mom brought me some. So i drank a small glass of orange juice while laying on my bedroom floor (which i hate bc it's carpet and we have cats and i haven't vacuumed in a while). And then once i wasn't on the verge of passing out i realized i got my fucking period cramps. Which for me usually last like an hour or two and consist of overstimulation (audio, light, physical ouchy ofc, and temperature) that are worst when laying down but still bad when sitting up and especially rn because of the blood sugar thing. So just thinking about doing anything sucked and i was literally writhing because moving a little bit felt slightly better than staying still (i had taken some meds for it but it takes a bit for them to kick in). Anyway at 11:30 i ended up texting my boss that i wouldn't be able to make it in today because i'm not feeling well. Which i hated doing because i was literally scheduled for 3 hours today with just one other person (it's a sunday so it's bare minimum) which means she has to find someone else who can work today in the hour and a half before we open (i know i know "it's the manager's fault for not scheduling enough people" but i work at my local library and i've known her longer than i can literally remember and i do completely trust her bc she's literally a small town library director, not like a retail boss). And i already took Friday off with less than a week's notice to go to the movies. Actually on second thought i don't feel as bad now since i was scheduled for 6 days three weeks in a row (normally every weekday + every other sunday but someone is on vacation so i ended up with 3 sundays in a row) (usually i'm only working like 3 or 4 hours a day so it's not that bad and also it's a pretty easy job bc it's a student/summer job at a smaller library)

Anyway i'm feeling a lot better now (but i think taking it easy is a good idea since i haven't gotten out of bed since i started feeling better like 20 minutes ago and shelving books has always been a slight issue especially in the children's section where the shelves are low and it's a lot of bending over which can make me slightly lightheaded)

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Superstar Fame - Steve Harrington X Female (Celebrity) Reader

Title: Superstar Fame

Steve Harrington X Female (Celebrity) Reader

Additional Characters: Robin, Max, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Reader's mother, Reader's father, Molly Ringwald (Mentioned), and Random customer (Mentioned)

Requested by Anon (but you know who you are!)

Part 2 - Frost Palace

WC: 3,553

Warnings: Cursing, anxiety, nervousness, sot of love at first sight, slight change in storyline cause I love Max, reader has a mom and dad, All Of Me mentioned, The Breakfast Club mentioned, V mentioned, E.T. mentioned, Star Wars: Return Of The Jedi mentioned, teasing, arguing, small verbal fight? and Molly Ringwald mentioned

You let out a happy sigh as you stepped off the bus. Setting your two patchwork-patterned duffle bags down on the sidewalk, you looked around. The town seemed a bit small, definitely different than L.A. Picking up your bags again, you found the familiar family car pulled up beside you, smiling as you greeted your parents. Your father rolled down the window, a smile on his own face. 

"Don't regret taking the bus?" He asked, as your mother just continued to smile.

You shook your head, "I'm a big girl, dad. It was fun. It's not like it was a long trip, less than half an hour." You traveled to the back seats, opening the car door to toss your bags in, and shutting the door after. You walked over to the driver's side, leaning against the open window. "It's nice to finally do things on my own."

"I'm happy you got to go through that experience, hon." Your mother commented.

Your father nodded, gesturing to the back of the car with his head, "We're heading to the house. Hop in." 

You quickly hopped into the back seat, pushing your bags to the other side and buckling in. Your mother turned in her seat, giving you a smile, "You know, now that you're not acting, you'll have more time to do more things. Maybe you could get a job around here. I bet they will have a few openings." Your mother mused; looking out the window as your father drove down the street. "I hope you like the house as well, dear. I know this is a huge, strange change in your life, and I hope you're not angry about the sudden move." She continued, as you looked at her.

"No, mom. It's fine. I think this will be a great experience. Instead of going to sets all days of the week, I get to live my young adulthood in a normal town and have a regular life." You shrugged, making your mother sigh in relief.

"I was worried you'd hold this against us or something. Your father and I know how much you loved acting." 

You nodded, sighing a little as you reminisced. "Yeah, I loved it. But, I think I'd like to try something new. I have been acting since I was ten. I think I deserve a break." You joked as your father laughed.

"You definitely do, kiddo!” He pulled into the gravel driveway, "Home sweet home!" He exclaimed as he shut down the engine, stepping out of the car and rushing around the other side to open your mother's car door. She thanked him, walking up the stone steps up to the door as your father opened your door, helping you out and grabbing your bags. You wandered up the steps slowly, taking the house in. It was nice, and a large enough place that you wouldn't feel cramped and crowded living in. Your father let out a soft groan as he sat your bags down in the entry hall. "Alright, why don't you pick out your room, get settled while your mother and I get the rest of the bags, and wait for the van?" Your father thought as you picked up your bags. 

"Yes, dear. Afterwards, if you like, you could skate around the town. See if there are any good restaurants nearby for dinner." Your mother spoke as you climbed up the stairs. 

"Will do!" You called down.

The floors were plush against your feet as you slowly walked down the hall. Passing room after room, clean and empty. But, yet, it gave you a sense of calmness. Finding a room at the end of the hall, you entered. The floor was the same as in the hallway, the walls the same white. You knew you'd have to paint them sooner or later, the thought excited you. It was a pretty spacious room, with large windows on the far wall. A door to what you thought was either a bathroom or closet. Setting the bags down by the door, you walked around it. Spying out the window at the world around you, spotting a couple of kids riding their bikes down the street. 

You sighed, sitting down in the middle of your room, and shutting your eyes as you laid down on the floor. "This... Is gonna be a lot to take in, isn't it?" You questioned yourself softly, opening your eyes to look at the ceiling above you, finding a small glass light above you. Taking another deep before you stood back up, adjusting your belt as you went over to your bag. Crouching down, you unzipped it, pulling out your cherry-themed roller skates. Holding them gingerly to your chest, you skipped down the hall and down the stairs. Sitting on the bottom step of the stairs you slipped off your red converse and slid on your skates. Fixing the tongue and tightening the laces, you stood up, heading to the door. Weaving past your parents with bags and boxes, you waved goodbye as they called out to you to be careful. 

Skating down the sidewalk, you sighed with a smile on your face as the soft breeze brushed your hair around; tucking strands behind your ear occasionally. The sun shone high overhead and warmed your skin a bit as you pushed forward. As you made your way downtown, passing by shops and stores with people inside. You took note of passing a small grocery store, an electronic shop, and a burger diner. Weaving past a few people, you noticed they stared at you. Either because you were new or they knew about your acting career. Whichever, they stopped whatever they were doing and watched curiously as you passed. You have been in a few movies in your ten years of acting. More appearances in shows than ever. You wanted to audition for the new Full House show coming out that year, but when your mother brought up the idea of moving, you took it. You loved acting, it was one of your favorite things to do, but you wanted and needed a break.

You had been a bit nervous at first. You never moved as a kid, staying in L.A. for as long as you could remember, but you did travel a lot. Going from set to set. Audition to audition. It was nice to be able to get away from all of that. But, you would miss acting. It was fun and something you had longed to do since you were a kid, but it was time you had a chance to do other things too. Like go shopping, eat ice cream whenever you want. Wear what you want. Anything. Not having to wake up early to head to set or live in a trailer for weeks to months at a time. This was like a breath of fresh air.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Skating to a stop, you spot a video store. Reading the large sign, Family Video, you shrug. Might as well find a movie to watch for your first night in your new room. Stepping inside, you looked around the room as you skated forward. Sliding your hands on the counter to stop. Looking up, you watched a guy your age type away on a computer. Unknowing in your presence. You smirked lightly, before speaking. "Hello…" You glanced at his name tag, "Steve." 

Looking up at the sound of his name, Steve's eyes immediately widened. His jaw dropped slightly, not believing his eyes. He was stunned, bewildered; speechless. He couldn't believe his celebrity crush was standing right in front of him. You were wearing light blue jeans with a black studded belt. You also wore a cute blue, pink, and purple windbreaker over a Black Sabbath shirt. His cheeks started to turn a soft pink as he stared back at you with wide eyes. "Uhm..." He cleared his throat, "Yeah, hi. Wh- What can I help you with today?" Steve stumbled over his words.

"Well, I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of your Rom-Com section?" You asked, raising your brows.

Steve stammered slightly in shock, clearing his throat again, and feeling his heart practically beating out of his chest. "Right, uhh... follow me." He offered a friendly nod before leading you toward the section labeled 'Romcom.' Once he found what he was looking for, he turned to you. “Do you... Want something specific to watch?"

You shook your head, placing a finger on your chin in thought as your eyes scanned the rows of movies. "No, not really. Do you have any recommendations?" You then asked, looking up at him. 

"Huh? Oh, uh... Sure, yeah." He stuttered out as you tried to fight a smile. 

As Steve's own eyes scanned the rows of movies, you took a peek at the young man beside you. He was tall, with brown eyes and amazing brown hair. Wearing the store's uniform vest, the first button of his striped shirt undone. He was quite handsome. If you hadn't known better, you'd think he was a movie star himself.

Seemingly settling on a movie, Steve grabbed All Of Me off the shelf. Turning to you, he found you already looking at him. Averting your gaze, you cleared your throat, pressing your fist to your mouth briefly as you realized he caught you staring. "Thanks." You murmured shyly, accepting it, as you looked back up at him with a nervous smile. You both stood there awkwardly, staring at each other. "So... How much do I owe you?" You asked softly, fingers fidgeting with the movie's case. 

"It's on the house." Steve smiled gently, as he gestured to the movie in your hand.

"I can't let you do that. Please, let me-" You went to reach for your wallet only for Steve to cut you off.

"No, no, please. I insist." He insisted before you could argue further.

You bit your bottom lip before looking up at him with an idea, "Fine, but for the next movie, I'm paying." You spoke with determination. 

Stevie blinked in surprise before chuckling softly, "Okay, deal." He nodded before leading you out of the aisle "So, I'll see you around, right?"

Smiling gently, you nodded, "Yeah, I'll..." You twirled in your skates once, "Be around." Before skating backward, "Thanks, Steve." You called as you slid out the door, and down the sidewalk. 

Steve let out a sigh, waving out the door even though you were already gone, "Bye, Y/N." Dropping his hand to his side, Steve let out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair before he went back around the other side of the counter. Hitting himself on the forehead, he cursed, "Good job, Steve." He scolded himself. "Couldn't even speak to her correctly." Sighing in defeat, Steve leaned against the wall. He blew his chance of acting cool. Now, what was he going to do? His heart felt heavier than usual and his cheeks blushed in embarrassment as he remembered how close he was to you. So close he could smell your strawberry shampoo.

You were just as he imagined. Sweet, funny, caring. He wasn't sure why he was so drawn to you. Whatever it was, it was making his heart race every time he saw you. He couldn't keep his mind off of you. And that scared him. You were a celebrity. He didn't know you. He didn't know how to act around you. Why did he suddenly become attracted to you like this? Yes, he had always had a crush on you ever since he watched The Breakfast Club with Robin. But, seeing you, interacting with you... He felt like his world shined brighter. He sighed, shaking his head before heading back into the storage room.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

"I'm telling you, Robin, she's here." Steve tried to convince her, leaning against the counter. 

Robin rolled her eyes, "It's really hard to believe you, Harrington. Considering the fact that she's probably filming some big movie in California." She scoffed, shaking her head.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, "But, she is here! I swear! She came in and rented a movie I recommended. She’s been coming in everyday for the past couple of days." Robin raised a brow at him, crossing her arms across her chest, giving Steve a skeptical look.

"What did you recommend?" She asked and Steve threw his hands in the air as he let out a dramatic sigh. “And how come I’ve never seen her?

"You’ve been out sick. And why does that matter? I wouldn't lie about this."

Robin gave him a deadpan look, "Really? You wouldn't lie about meeting your celebrity crush? Sounds childish, Steven."

"This is not a Dustin and Suzie situation here, Buckley. I'm telling-" The bell jingled. Steve and Robin turned, Robin's eyes widening as you walked through the door. "... The truth..."

You walked up to the counter with a smile on your face, "Hey, I have the movie." You slid it onto the counter, scooting it over to Steve. "And I loved it! You are on a roll with the movies here." You complimented as Robin just continued to stare at you.

Steve let out a nervous chuckle, "I'm glad you liked it." He answered back, before glancing at his friend who was still awestruck. "Oh!" Steve grabbed Robin's arm, pulling her over, "This is my friend, Robin. Ignore her staring." Steve introduced the short-haired brunette. “She’s usually not like this.” Steve muttered as Robin snapped out of her daze. 

Robin offered out her hand to you, a bright excited smile on her face. “Hi, I'm a huge fan. I loved you in The Breakfast Club. Did you really get to meet Molly Ringwald?" She asked quickly, her words almost mashing together at how fast she was talking. 

You took her hand, shaking it, "Of course, I did play one of her best friends." You brought your hand back, "And thank you, it means a lot.” You smiled warmly at her, "And I love your hair by the way."

Robin smiled brightly, her fingers brushing the ends of her hair briefly. "You do? Thank you." She gushed, her cheeks tinted a soft pink.

You turned back to Steve, smiling up at him, "Hi, Steve." You spoke gently, Steve returning your smile.

"Hi, Y/N." He muttered happily back, his smile growing wider. 

Robin smirked slightly, looking at the two of you knowingly while you both kept smiling at each other, until you heard the bell chime and turned to look at the entrance again, where you spotted someone coming in. Looking back at Steve, you gave him an apologetic smile, "I should go. You've got customers." You spoke, but Robin shook her head, her smirk turning into a grin. 

"No, it's fine. I got this." She spoke, giving Steve a wink before heading around the counter and up to the customer.

"So..." Steve began, wandering around the counter to stand before you, "What genre today? Or are we sticking with Rom-Com?" He asked, and you shrugged.

"As long as you don’t give me another horror one then I’m good." You glanced around the room, "Surprise me." 

Steve pursed his lips, nodding, "Surprise you..." He muttered in thought, before turning and going down an aisle, "Surprise you..." You followed close behind, excitement bubbling within you. With his finger pointing to each movie as he walked, Steve stopped at one, picking it up off the shelf. Turning to you with a smile, he handed it to you. 

"Star Wars: Return of The Jedi?" You asked as you read the title. 

Steve nodded, "Yeah, it's my favorite. I love the teddy bears." He spoke, mentally cringing at his words.

"Ewoks, Stevie. Ewoks." You corrected and Steve gave you a sheepish laugh, nodding slowly, feeling his cheeks warm up. "I love this movie. Thanks for picking it out." You told him gratefully, and Steve smiled.

"Anytime." He said as the two of you walked back to the counter.

"Hey! Steve! Your brats are here!" Robin called as she gestured to the door. 

Steve turned and his eyes widened in fear, "Oh shi-"

"What's wrong?" You asked, turning to see a small group of kids wander over. They were all chatting about something, laughing with smiles on their faces. They looked around fifteen, sixteen tops. "Who are they?"

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I used to babysit them, still friends with them..." He turned back to see the kids standing around a cardboard cutout of a character, "Unfortunately..." He finished.

You hummed, glancing at the group with a small frown, "They seem nice. Might say hello."

Steve shook his head rapidly, "Oh, god, no. Dustin and Max both love The Breakfast Club." He tried to warn you, as you turned back to him. “They’ll just annoy you.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms, "Do you love The Breakfast Club?" You asked, and Steve nodded.

"Yeah, it's a good movie." Steve replied, watching as you gave a playful shrug.

You smiled sweetly at him, "Then I doubt they'll be any less than kind." You said before walking towards the children.

Steve bit his lip as he watched you walk over, hoping to god that Dustin wouldn't say anything.

"Hey," You spoke up, stuffing your hands in your windbreaker pockets as the four teens turned around. Immediately, the red-headed girl and the curly-haired boy's eyes widened. 

"Holy sh-" Dustin spoke up as Max interrupted him.

"You're Y/N L/N." She spoke, jaw dropped slightly.

"This is the best day of my life." Dustin breathed out as Lucas and Mike looked on confused.

"Uh, sorry, but who are you?" Mike asked, gaining your attention.

Before you could answer, Dustin spoke up, "How could you not know who she is? She is the Y/N L/N. She was in The Breakfast Club, E.T, and she was also in season one of V!" He exclaimed as Lucas and Mike continued to look at him blankly, only to turn their gaze over to you, confusion on their faces.

You tilted your head as you stood there awkwardly, "Is he usually like this?" You chuckled and the two boys just laughed.

Lucas nodded slowly, "Yes."

"Hmm, well. What are your names?" You asked, and Dustin jumped at the opportunity to say his first.

"I'm Dustin!"

"My name is Max." The redhead spoke, and you smiled at her in return.

"I'm Mike and this is Lucas." Mike introduced, as Lucas gave you a small wave.

"Well, it is nice to meet you four. Steve told me that he used to babysit you." You brought up as Dustin scoffed out a laugh.

"Pff, did he tell you that he-" Max cut Dustin off by punching him in the arm. "Ow!"

Your furrowed your eyebrows, "What?" 

Dustin gave you a smile, rubbing his hurt arm, "Nothing. Misspoke." 

You hummed, clasping your hands before you, "Oh, uh, alright..." You spoke, as Dustin just simply nodded before pausing, and looking up at you.

"Actually, uh, could I have your autograph, please?" He asked sheepishly, as your face lit up in delight.

"Sure!" You exclaimed happily, taking out your notebook from your over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out the pen that you always had with you. Scribbling your signature, you turned to Max. "Do you want one too?" You asked her as she looked up at you with wide eyes, nodding. Scribbling down your signature again, you ripped off the pages and handed them to the two. "Here ya go!"

Max smiled widely, "Thank you so much!"

Dustin nodded with a huge grin, "Yeah, thank you!"

"It's no problem, you two." You waved your hand dismissively, "I'd do anything for my biggest fans."

"Alright, let's not bother Y/N anymore, alright? Are you guys going to rent a movie or not?" Steve spoke up, walking over to 'save' you from the teens.

The teens seemed to ignore Steve's words and headed down an aisle without another word. You smiled, crossing your arms as you glanced up at Steve. "They seem like good kids. I don't know why you were so worried."

Steve blushed lightly, scratching the back of his neck nervously, "Well, they could be worse..." He trailed off, "Uh, so... I was wondering if... Maybe... We could…" He trailed off, before clearing his throat, Keep it together, Steven. "Maybe. Uhm. Would you maybe wanna have dinner with me?" He rushed out before taking a deep breath, "If you wanted."

You looked up at him with a shocked smile, "You want to have dinner with me?" You asked, "As like... A date?"

Steve blushed, "Um. Yeah, yeah, I mean, not that I would mind that! If that's what you'd like!" His voice sounded higher pitched than usual.

You let out a small chuckle, "Yeah, I'd like that. I would really like that." You reassured, causing Steve to smile and nod, his heart fluttering in his chest.

"Thank god, I mean, cool... Yeah. Uh, I could pick you up? Do you like milkshakes?" He asked as he handed you your movie.

You sputtered out a laugh, "Steve, who doesn't like milkshakes?"

[youn9racha]

I Know (Part I)

Pairing: Changbin x fem!reader

Genre: suggestive

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: slight adult content, swearing, suggestive actions, elements of stalker behavior

Extra notes: characters mentioned are all above the age 21 years, a lot of hatred towards the male figure lol. Also this is my first time writing on tumblr, so please bare with me, it may not be the best, but I still hope you enjoy it :)

And baby, I know, I know whatever city you’re in, you’re still the boy that I’d pick…

part ii is up !!!

—————————————————————————————————

This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised

—————————————————————————————————

Men…

Truly the scums of the Earth, who do no good for no one, and are an absolute menace to society. But oh, do I enjoy the looks of their faces at times. The way they would look at me with full hope and infatuation, with full beliefs that I would step down and give them all they want from me.

Hmph. How cute… and pathetic. How pathetic to assume and lower my standards for them. They all are the same. All but one however.

All that men hating… and yet, only one I’d be willing to go down to his level.

Yes, its him… He whom a lot would have not sought to be with, not many would expect a bombshell like myself would be with. But I do not see that in him, not an ounce of what many insecure individuals would see. I see something striking that not many could see, an underrated dignified beauty that anyone could wish to admire. A fanciable and irresistible personality and face.

He was a man.. but a pleasant one.

It all started when I moved in into a new flat for myself. I previously left the old complex due to the cramped environment I had that left me feeling uneasy and stressed, as well as it wasn’t even my apartment, it was for my partner, well, ex-partner. It was simply wasn’t working out, due to our seeming never ending conflicts. But enough of the past, let us move on..

I found this flat that is comfortable and the rent pays well, its only downside is that my room’s window is faced to the next door’s flat, however it’s not a big detriment or big turn off for me so it was fine by me, and also it was prone to have random, yet rare, blackout, but then again what neighborhood doesn’t have that. Anyhow, I was set to take the complex, but before I did, I have noticed something about the neighbor’s window next to me. It was a man. A really good looking one too. Giving his side profile, he was laying on his bed, his black hair covered head bopping with earphones placed in ears, laptop placed in his revealing shorts adorned lap. My eyes began started to stare into his arms then onto his naked well built chest, which indicates that he likes to keep up with his health, as his ring adorned hands was tapping away in his keyboard. I quickly looked away when I saw him repositioned his laptop, and walked out of the soon-to-be my room.

Great… I’ve entered Hell.

But I didn’t let it affect my decisions and got the apartment nonetheless, here I am now, weeks after the incident, sitting in my car, outside of the building, still thinking about the man in his laptop. Has he noticed that I was staring at him? Does he know that there’s gonna be someone living next to him? I hope not. And if he has, I must apologize to him. But before that, let me unload my car. I have gradually put my stuff into the complex as the days go by, it seems dragging, but it felt like the time went by fast, so I’m glad I have done that. However, today was different, as I took stuff more than I usually did, as I desperately do not want to go back to my ex. Typically, I never had assistance, as usually my best friend would join in and help out, but at a time I needed them the most, they had to be really sick. They still were willing to help, but I insisted that they shouldn’t and should rest.

After thinking, I sighed and got out my car, ready to fight the battle that is putting my stuff into my complex. I opened the trunk, eyes meeting my stuff, and I begin to groan. ‘Dammit, (y/n), why do you have that many stuff?!’ I thought to myself. I really should’ve had at least one more visit to my ex, but alas I picked to just take all all together in one day. I picked up a box until..

“Need any help?” I heard someone behind me asking me. I turned around and looked at the source. ‘God damn, is it just me, or does this town just bring out more attractive people?’ I thought to myself, as I see a man that looked like he could be at a museum. He had a sandy brown curly hair, slightly tanned skin, really plump and a crazy jawline. He donned a tank top that barely covered his side torso, and basket ball shorts that complimented his really nice, thick… thighs… yeah… Needless to say he was really attractive.

It seems that I was ogling him, rather than responding, as he shyly smiled and waved his hand in front of my face, “hello,” he softly said as I shook my head and looked back at his face apologetically.

“I am so sorry, I am just really tired, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I cringed at my pathetic way of justifying of me literally internally lusting over him. I really am turning into someone I dread to be. How can I forgive myself?

“That’s okay, I know how moving can get tiring, and I sense that you’re alone, so please let me and my friend help you out.” He said, sympathetically smiling a sweet smile, already grabbing a box out of my hand. God, if this man has a partner, then they’re the luckiest person ever, and if he’s single, I’ll gladly hand him a ring. What am I saying? (y/n), what the hell has gotten into you?!

“I’m Christopher, but you can call me Chris or Chan, whichever you prefer is fine, what’s your name?” The generous man’s voice interrupted my inner battle and I found myself looking at him again. “(y/n)” I smiled at him, which he nodded back.

“Nice to meet you,” Chan said, looking back and see that his friend showed up, meanwhile, I went back to my trunk and got out more stuff from my car “oh, there he is!” Chan enthusiastically announced.

“(y/n), meet my friend and roommate, Changbin.” Chris said, while I got out the box and looked at the other man, my face shifted from contentment to horrific.

Its the man with the laptop.

“Hello? Chan, are you sure she’s okay?” Changbin looked at Chris with worry. “Yeah, she’s just tired, just nudge her.”

It’s like Chris knew me too well, despite meeting for less than 10 minutes, as Chris slightly pushed me with the box, not enough to hurt me, but enough to put me out of a trance.

“huh? I did it again, did I?” I looked at Chan, worryingly, which he nodded. I looked back at Changbin and the pathetic act was brought up again.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know what has gotten into me.” I apologized once again, which Changbin only smirked. “Don’t worry about it,” He said, carrying a box. Something about that smirk and tone seems off. Not off in a menacing way, but off in a… coy way. Maybe not the best term to use, maybe I am just over analyzing, but I am for sure either winning the lottery tonight, or convinced that the sun will rise from the west tomorrow, since I have two very attractive men helping out, one of which is someone whom I may have an odd fascination for a while now.

~~

The two have been nothing but a delight to interact with, their help with the stuff had done me even more than just a solid. However, I still in a way feel a bit unsettled by Changbin. It wasn’t that he was a creep, or did anything to make me uncomfortable, its just this feeling of guilt I carry with me. Meanwhile, I didn’t attempt anything, and I just simply just admired him from afar, it still felt wrong that I was just looking at him while he was barely wearing anything, let alone while not him paying attention. Despite this, it seems that he doesn’t know that I did what I did, which is why I chose to confront him about it when the time is right, which is probably when we start getting even more comfortable. I have exchanged numbers with both men, even though I could probably just go out my window and yell out their names, but I’d rather not disturb the peace.

Two good looking men are now my neighbors… Who would have thought? Whichever entity that is in existence have decided to play with me, because to them, my humiliation would be their laughing stock, because they definitely would have seen what is to become of me.

Its been a week in since I moved, and interacted with the two Chans, and I am glad that a curtain was installed onto my room, just so I wouldn’t carry even more guilt than I already do. But the thing is, I would lie that I still haven’t thought of Changbin. While I would have thought that Chris fitting into more of my ideal type, Changbin however held a mysterious power that Chan didn’t.

Ever since the time I first laid eyes on Changbin, he has never left my mind. He has started to creep up in my fantasies and dreams in every way shape of form. I couldn’t stop thinking of how his arms would look around my waist, how his lips would feel in my skin, or how his hands would wander around, exploring places that many men often fail to find to make me feel good, or how his voice would be like when talking as he puts his mouth by my ear— God, this is getting out of hand, I would think.

What if he had a girlfriend? What if he wasn’t attracted to women in general? What if he finds you a creep?

So many more endless questions would come in to ruin me, but its not like i have a choice, he just happened to settle into my dreams and thoughts, and went with it.

I decided to take a shower to try and distract myself from these thoughts, which didn’t help at all, as the hot water cascading my skin did nothing but accelerated my lustful thoughts. I decided to get out of the shower, as it didn’t help my case.

Damn you, Changbin.

I sighed, put on some underwear and a robe while having a towel wrapped around my hair. I got out of the bathroom and back to my room. It was dark out, and in my room, the only light came out of it were my night lamp, which barely lit up the whole room. I checked the window, making sure Changbin wasn’t there, or at least not facing the window, only to see his window being covered with curtains.

Great timing, could’ve used that when I first saw you, dipshit.

But nonetheless, I was really glad at least he wasn’t visible. I laid back on my bed, and decided to look through social media, as anyone should. While in the middle of a instagram scroll, I see a caller popping through at the top of the screen…

It was Changbin.

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Can I request headcanons for a poly relationship with Brahms and Vincent Sinclair?

Oh my gODDDDD ANON UR MIND!!! Legit I went OFF with this headcanon post and honesty I’m obsessed with this pairing now. I might even write a smutty one shot regarding this but like fuckkkkkk I hope y’all enjoy this cause i had SO MUCH FUN writing it!

Brahms/Vincent/Reader Poly:

Since Brahms and Vincent are two killers that are based in a specific location and would probably never leave their homes, here are a few specific headcanons for each killer in the other’s home.

Vincent in the Heelshire Manor wouldn't affect him too greatly, other than the nagging feeling of being homesick. Though if he has you by his side, it makes the ache less harsh. For the most part as long as Vincent has a room he can call his workshop he really won't mind. And because the Heelshire mansion is so huge there would be more than enough room for such. 

Brahms would be very against having Vincent in the walls, feeling threatened by his presence, but once he is more used to the three of you being together he might not mind it as much. Actually, Vincent enjoys Brahms' space. He finds the room quite relaxing, though a bit too cramped for his liking. 

Ultimately, both are fine as long as they are given their privacy to work and relax on their own time. 

Brahms in Ambrose would cause the most upheaval. He would glue himself to your side, following you wherever you went as you were the only comfort he had in this strange place. Brahms isn't used to not only being out of the walls but essentially having a whole town to himself to explore. It would be a lot at first, but with yours and Vincent's gentle urging, Brahms would slowly embrace this new change.

He would love the tunnels under Ambrose, allowing him to move to different places in town without needing to walk down the street just in case there were visitors in town. He prefers to slip in and out of places largely unnoticed so less attention is brought to him.

While he does not actively participate in the slaying of visitors in Ambrose for the wax collection, he has been known to attack anyone he deems a threat to you or the Sinclairs. This is his home now and anything that is a threat to that home must be dealt with accordingly (and brutally). Vincent often complains that Brahms ruins the bodies, but understands that Brahms can't control himself when he reaches that point. 

Speaking of the other Sinclair brothers, Bo unsurprisingly hates Brahms. When Brahms first arrived, he was very shy and nervous around Bo, actively afraid of the loud and easily angered brother. Once he realized that Bo was no threat to him, he actively enjoyed "playing" with him. Bo hates it when he uses his childlike voice, but Brahms continues to do it anyways to put Bo on edge. Brahms might also use his stealthy abilities to purposefully scare Bo, appearing out of nowhere and giving him a heart attack and running off before Bo can retaliate. Bo would never admit it openly but Brahms intimidates him simply from his stature and the inability to read him.

Lester was intimidated by Brahms when he first arrived, the man much taller and more muscular than he was. But when Brahms learned about the road kill Lester collects and disposes of, he simply asked if he could take care of the rats as well. Lester did, and the two have no issues with each other, though Lester still feels a slight unease when around the other man. 

Now, for the personality dynamics of the boys.

Brahms and Vincent get along much better than one might initially suspect. The two are utterly territorial men, often with you in the middle of their affections, however they eventually grow to understand each other and how it would be easier to protect you if they were both there. You’re the common denominator that keeps them from fighting each other, and the fact that you dispense love equally between them is an important factor. 

The two will eventually grow to respect each other as well, with Brahms eventually being comforted by Vincent's company if you are unavailable. He will often sit quietly with Jonesy as he watches Vincent work on his sculptures, very rarely interrupting him. Vincent isn't bothered by this presence, and is often comforted if either you, Brahms, or the both of you are in the room with him doing whatever as he sculpts. 

Vincent grows fond of Brahms, feeling protective of him when he becomes distressed and overwhelmed. Growing up with Bo, he has learned how to help diffuse highly volatile situations. Even if he can't speak very well, his gentle reassurances help while he deescalates Brahms’ tantrums. A plus for you, really. 

As the two of them both wear masks to hide their faces, they might reveal themselves sooner rather than later simply because they're in the presence of another person that truly understands what their going through, as well as someone who loves them unconditionally (you, of course). Expect them to take of their masks one night while the three of you are together, the two of them slowly revealing themselves to each other and you. Brahms’ burn scars, and Vincent's scars each on one side of their face, cause them to be moved when they first see each other. They'll have their masks off around you more often after that. 

Now,,, the somft dating headcanons,,, 

Brahms and Vincent are both touch starved individuals so just expect to be giving lots of love to these boys. Just you cuddling with them makes them melt, and if they see you giving attention to one you know the other will grow jealous until you give them some love as well. Brahms is much more clingy than Vincent however, and you'll have to be a bit more firm with him about your space even if he ignores it most of the time. Vincent is a lot more shy so when you give him hugs and kisses he is more likely to freeze up instead of latch onto you like Brahms the Leech Boy would. 

Both spoil you as much as humanly possible, mostly with love and physical affection though they have their own little ways of treating you. Vincent makes you small wax sculptures all the time, enjoying the smile on your face as you look the figure over with adoration. Brahms gets a bit annoyed over this, as he doesn't have much of an artistic hand. But Vincent is happy to give him some wax and either let him mess around with it or teach him some techniques to properly use it. Brahms is so proud once he is able to make you something small, probably a bowl, and he absolutely melts when you squeal in delight at his thoughtful gift. Vincent can't help but feel happy himself too. 

Lots of snuggle piles with the three of you, often with you in the middle. While they don't tend to have a favorite position as long as they get to hold you, they do have a few regular positions. When you read out loud to them, Vincent tends to sit behind you, your back up against his chest, as Brahms is tangled amongst both of your legs as he rests his head on your lap, his arms draped around your middle. Vincent holds the book open for you so both of your hands are free to pet and play with Brahms’ hair, which he thoroughly enjoys. Sometimes Vincent and Brahms will swap places, or one of them will rest their head against your chest as you act as the big spoon. Also expect many blankets and pillows to further complete your nest as well. 

Luckily for Bo, Brahms’ need for structure in the form of the daily chore list will keep you busy cleaning up the living space and making enough food to feed all the men you were caring for now. If Bo has been particularly good, Brahms might tag along with you to the gas station to deliver him lunch after you bring Vincent his. Vincent is usually busy with his art so you give him a kiss on top of his head and leave his food on his work bench, knowing he will get to it once he is hungry. Bo won't dare to lash out too much when he is being fed, especially not when Brahms stands behind you like an imposing bodyguard whenever Bo is nearby. 

Date nights with the two of them are rather unconventional. Most of the time whenever the three of you are together it is considered a date whether or not it is super romantic. Just coexisting in the same space is often enough for the three of you. Vincent is happy enough to show you and Brahms around Ambrose, obviously knowing the best places to relax and get away from the stress the town can bring. He knows exactly where you can see the best sunrises and sunsets too. And Brahms is more than happy to tag along, though if he was in his manor than he would probably have a hard time leaving even with the two of you by his side. 

Expect lots of quiet nights reading, softly talking amongst yourselves, watching old vhs tapes found around town on the small TV, and listening to music. Sometimes Jonesy will keep you all company and get lots of snuggles and belly rubs as well. 

Now onto the headcanons you filthy animals were waiting for. You know. The naughty stuff ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Being the needy man he is, Brahms is probably the first to initiate sexual touching. He is certainly not shy about his desire for you, not even being embarrassed about growing hard around you. Vincent, on the other hand, is too ashamed to initiate contact in the beginning, even if he feels the same way. Most likely he will let Brahms take the lead with you first, enjoying the act of watching you both. You can't get enough of the sight of Vincent sitting in his chair, hand squeezed tightly around his member as he edges himself while watching Brahms grab and explore your body. And with Brahms’ jealous streak he doesn't mind having you first either. 

Slowly, Vincent will find his way into bed with the two of you, probably at your urging. If Brahms is feeling particularly generous, he might be the one to say something. "They’re so soft Vinny, you have to touch them." With some gentle persuasion, Vincent will touch you the way Brahms touches you, making your toes curl and your breath hitch. Brahms watches eagerly, touching you as well and grabbing your hand and holding it over his cock as you pump him until his seed spills over you.

Vincent isn't shy about body worship once he realizes how much you want him. He will kiss and caress every inch of you, pulling out all sorts of noises that you never thought were possible. Brahms looks on in awe, his mouth often following behind Vincent's as he mimics the actions, much to your delight. 

Brahms has a hard time holding himself back around you while Vincent can take an entire night with you, so together they tend to even out. They'll go until you're too exhausted, but usually Brahms will finish first, leaving Vincent all the time in the world with you. That is, until Brahms’ gets hard again and finds his way back into the fray. 

They are both comfortable being switches, not minding if they are on top but if you want to top they will gladly let you spoil them. They both love being ridden, holding you in their arms as you bounce on their cock, until you leave them a shaking mess beneath you. They also enjoy receiving oral from you, and you tend to include both of them in the activity. Sometimes you will jerk the two of them off with your hands, give oral to one and use your hand on the other, or on at least one occasion, have attempted to at the very least lick both of them at the same time. 

As the three of you grow more open and experienced with each other's bodies, you can expect to try taking them both on at least a few occasions. Sometimes one of them will be performing oral or fucking you as you take the other in your mouth. If you happen to be AFAB, expect double penetration to be attempted at least once, though Brahms is a bit too impatient to go through the whole ordeal so it isn't an activity you often engage in. 

Now, Brahms and Vincent both grew up in very strict and sheltered homes, so the thought of being naked in the same room as another man, or sharing the same person with another man in the same bed might cause them trepidation in the beginning of your sexual relationship. Eventually, however, they grow to love each other as much as they love you, though they might show it to each other in a different way. While they might not initiate sex with each other if you aren't around, they will slowly begin to experiment with you in the bedroom. Touching you turns into touching each other as well, and they find that while each other's touch is much different than yours, they enjoy this new feeling. 

In fact, they might have been known to, on occasion, jerk each other off if their needs grow too intense and you aren’t around to provide for them. When you caught them, they were facing each other, pumping each other’s member as Brahms buried his face into Vincent's shoulder. Initially they were wildly embarrassed and thought you would be mad, but you assured them you weren't, your words of encouragement helping them finish. 

Time for kinks!

They both share voyeurism kink, and while Brahms can be a bit annoyed and bratty if he has to sit on the sidelines, both are content to watch the other have their way with you, getting off on just watching. Hell, both of them spy on you on the regular, watching you get dressed or shower before you either notice them in the doorway or they allow themselves in. 

If Vincent is able to get a hold of a camera you know he will be taking pictures of you constantly, with or without you knowing. While it partially adds to his voyeur kink, he enjoys being able to take artistic nudes of you, as well as less artistic ones where you are simply being wrecked by one or the both of them. 

Wax play is a big kink of Vincent's as he enjoys watching your expression as he tips the candle over your skin and watches how the hot wax makes you jolt for a moment before it begins to solidify on your skin. Brahms, however, is not a fan, simply because he finds it tedious as well as being unable to enjoy it himself. Putting hot wax on a hairy man is not a fun time. 

They both enjoy bondage, though Brahms doesn't really know how to properly execute it until meeting Vincent. All three of you have been tied up at one point or another, allowing the other two access to their body. Vincent enjoys the more eloquent knots and ties, creating intricate designs on both you and Brahms. Brahms is a good candidate for being tied up as he gets worked up so easily and this is one of the few ways to help him take his time. The ties that you and Brahms execute on Vincent aren't as beautiful but they do the trick, and he often has a hard time edging himself with the two of you giving him attention. 

Any kinks that you have are eagerly accepted by Vincent and Brahms, as they are always happy to bend over backwards to satiate your needs. Even if it is a little embarrassing, they're willing to try anything at least once with you. 

Ultimately, the open communication and understanding between the three of you help immensely when it comes to taking care of each other's needs. You would all drop everything to satisfy your partners, and they would do the same for you.

[angstyaches]

If you're still taking prompts- Felix and Elliott haven't seen each other all day, and Elliott's been gassy all day, so when he finally gets to talk to Felix that night, Felix is really angry for some reason but E hasn't been feeling good so Felix takes care of him cause he feels bad and Elliott is just in so much pain 💔 Sorry English isn't my first language -🍫

Thank you for this request, it’s just lovely, and I’ve been so excited to get it finished for you! I couldn’t think of anything that would result in Felix being just the right amount of angry for this scenario, so he’s more annoyed than angry.

Also, we’re just going to ignore the fact that having someone heavier than you lie on your chest restricts your breathing, because Elliott deserves this, damn it.

CW: burping, stomach and chest pains, stomach noises, mention of vampire drinking (animal) blood, slight over-indulgence, slight mention of coming out a prolonged bout of nausea and lack of appetite.

___

“So,” Felix said, stretching his legs out across the bed and then crossing them at the knees. He was gradually working away on one of his blood lollipops, every so often sticking it in his mouth and having to speak around it. “Ugh, I was driving home, doing the speed limit, naturally.”

“Naturally,” Elliott agreed, resisting a sarcastic grin. Felix was the only driver he knew who didn’t violate speed limits every so often, not even by a couple of kilometres-per-hour.

“I suppose it was peak commuting time,” Felix went on. “Which was my own fault for leaving late. I was basically asking for trouble.”

As he listened, Elliott crossed the room to pick up the hairbrush from his bedside locker. He only had to bend a couple of degrees to reach it, but something about the shift in his posture made something shift inside him, too. He squeezed his lips together as he straightened, swallowing a clump of pressure that tried to escape up his throat. There was a distressed growl deep in his stomach as a result, which he managed to cover up by clearing his throat.

“Coming through town the usual way, past the supermarket and over the bridge,” Felix continued, unaware that any of this was happening.

“Mmhmm.” Elliott nodded in encouragement, going back into the ensuite bathroom and standing in front of the sink. His partner was still visible in the mirror, the door wide open so they could still hear each other.

Elliott pressed a fist to his mouth, releasing a short, grumbling belch.

“And then some idiot with a – I don’t know, a Chrysler or something? I mean, who needs a car that big, anyway? Anyway, they pulled out of the petrol station right in front of me, and I had to slam on the brakes!” Felix sighed deeply, letting his hands fall onto his chest. “I mean, I wasn’t going fast, but what if I had been? What if I'd had a cake on the front seat? It would've gone flying and been destroyed! Gosh, I thought I was going to have a heart attack, I was so mad.”

Elliott inhaled softly through his lips, looking into the mirror as he started tugging the brush through his hair. It was almost down to his elbows these days, and he couldn’t decide it he liked it, or if he wanted to cut it back to shoulder-length again.

He braced himself against a hiccup, realising he hadn’t responded to Felix in a while. He swallowed thickly, trying to recall the last thing he’d heard his partner say. “Did – did you honk the horn at them..?”

“I – well, no, I didn’t,” Felix said, sitting up on his elbows to glare at Elliott in the mirror. “I was mad, but come on, Elli. It was a built-up area, and it was after seven. What if there’d been a baby sleeping somewhere nearby?”

“Right…” Elliott murmured, as if he’d never, ever blown the horn of a car in a built-up area before.

“Anyway,” Felix grunted, flopping back down.

There was a distinct, bubbling sound coming from the upper part of Elliott’s abdomen now. He tried pushing his fingers gently into his stomach, just below his ribs, but he immediately hated the sensation and planted his hands next to the sink. That wasn’t going to work, but the discomfort was becoming so bad that he could feel it draining his energy and – more notably – his patience.

And the last thing he wanted, after a long day without seeing one another, was to snap at Felix over something as silly as a stomach ache.

“I’m just, you know… What the hell’s wrong with people?” Felix continued from the bed. “If they just opened their eyes for a moment, they might actually see something…”

He was still muttering – mostly to himself, at this point – about irresponsible drivers when Elliott closed the bathroom door and walked across the room. He approached the bed from the wrong side, which snagged Felix’s attention. The mint-haired boy looked up at Elliott, as though waiting for him to ask for something. His hands were folded neatly across his middle, his head on the pillow, his legs outstretched and uncrossed.

A pang of pure, untainted affection fluttered in Elliott's chest; as least, he was almost sure it was affection and not just a swell of pressure from his stomach. He half-smiled, watching Felix's expression soften.

“Are – are you alright, darling?”

Without a word in response, Elliott knelt at the end of the bed near Felix’s feet. He spread his hands and placed them either side of Felix’s waist, pressing into the blanket and the mattress.

“Oh,” Felix laughed, a slight blush instantly rushing into his cheeks. “Are we…? Oh, okay.” With a confused look on his face, he lifted his hands from his chest, making space for Elliott to lay down on him, head pressed between Felix’s neck and shoulder.

Felix dragged his fingers gently over the back of Elliott’s neck, pulling heavy locks of his hair together and scooping them to one side. “Darling, what’s brought this on?”

Elliott shrugged lightly. He didn’t really know himself, but the simplest answer seemed to be a fitting one. “You looked comfortable.”

“I see…. Well, you can rest your full weight on me,” Felix offered, his voice a little shaky. “I’m small, but I can take it.”

The tension gradually seeped out of Elliott’s muscles as he sank a little harder into Felix. He felt another shift in his stomach contents, which made a light sheen of sweat break out on the back of his neck. He swallowed, counter-productively, before dragging a heavy fist to his mouth.

The rumbling pressure got caught in the back of his throat, circling nauseatingly for a moment before slipping backwards. A tightness in his chest made him frown. His stomach rumbled so hard that it reverberated through his ribcage and gurgled in the back of his throat.

“Oh, gosh, I felt that,” Felix said, sliding on hand from Elliott’s neck towards his upper back. “Is everything okay in there?”

With his fist still waiting by his mouth, Elliott gave a quick nod. “My stomach’s slightly upset, but it’s nothing to worry about. Are you sure I’m not hurting you?”

“Yes, I’m sure! What’s wrong with your stomach?”

“Nothing…” Elliott winced as another bubble moved through his belly, catching in his oesophagus. “Well, I may have over-indulged slightly today, for the first time since my symptoms cleared up.��

“Ah, okay.” Felix’s tone was a little lighter now, as his hand smoothed over the plane of flesh between Elliott’s shoulder blades. “Obviously, I’m not relieved that you’re in pain, but it is comforting to know you’re getting back to your old self.”

“A bloodthirsty bastard?”

Felix stifled a laugh, And Elliott half-smiled to himself before a cramp rolled through his gut, once again coming to a sharp head just beneath his sternum. He parted his lips, hoping to coax some of the air up, but it gurgled all the way back down to his stomach, making the unhappy organ churn and roll.

A sigh of frustration left his mouth instead. Felix gave his back a slightly more urgent pat, hoping to move things along.

“Ugh,” Elliott groaned, resting his hand on Felix’s shoulder as he waited. “You can keep talking, boo. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No, no,” Felix half-laughed, gently scratching his fingernails against the back of Elliott’s neck again. “That was just ranting. Taking care of you is so much more important.”

Elliott pressed his lips together. The pressure in his chest was beginning to build up again. The rumbling seemed to start behind his belly button and creep its way up behind his sternum.

Felix spread his hand over Elliott’s back again, no doubt feeling every vibration going through his organs and ribs.

Only when the pressure reached his throat, did it move with any kind of urgency. Elliott barely had time to form a fist again, pressing it to his mouth and releasing the burp as steadily as he could. It went on for about five seconds, making much less noise than it had when it had been rumbling around in his chest. Elliott frowned, knowing that there was no way that was the end of it.

“Sorry,” Elliott mumbled, turning his neck to burrow into Felix’s neck. He knew he was acting much shier than he usually would, but he’d already been feeling a bit embarrassed about climbing on top of Felix in the first place.

“Nothing to apologise for.” Felix tilted his head and rubbed his cheek against the top of Elliott’s head.

Elliott nuzzled even further into Felix’s neck as another belch bubbled up, determined not to direct it into his partner’s face. A low groan followed it, a sound that pleading for an end to this ordeal; although, if he was being honest, the pains twisting his stomach and tightening his chest were already fading. Felix’s hand continued to smooth over his back, fingertips occasionally tracing the shape of his spine and shoulder blades, and Elliott wasn’t about to ask him to stop anytime soon.

[yan-genshin]

Hi! May I request yan! Aether with s/o that is/was really in love with him? 💙

a/n: aha you now get to witness MY aether characterization. i play the game with lumine but i do love braid boy quite a bit!

warnings: general yandere themes, mentions of violence and blood

❥ aether

he doesn’t really know life outside of what he’d been doing for eons- traveling from world to world alongside his sister. that was all he’d done, all he’d wanted to do; and as he stands now, stranded in teyvat, stripped off his wings and powers, of his twin, aether needs some sort of pillar to lean onto

his darling knows this- knows that aether is an outlander, that he’s deeply hurt by his sister’s disappearance- so it’s easy to excuse his clinginess at first. even if he always seems to be eager to help and rather unshaken, he’s been through a lot: it’s ok to let him be a little possessive, isn’t it?

aether is greedy with how he takes his darling’s love. before, he’d never even thought about romantic affection; he’d been content to just travel the world next to lumine, fighting and exploring by her side. but now, aether seems to take and take and take all his darling has to offer- their attention, their time, their everything if they’ll let him. he doesn’t particularly know he’s being greedy, after all, it’s the first time he’s felt like this.

but just because he’s found love doesn’t mean he’s giving up on his sister. aether doesn’t see what the problem is on taking his beloved along with him; doesn’t see what’s so wrong with uprooting their entire life in the city, taking them along to the dangers of the wild, taking the warm bed they used to sleep on and exchanging it into cramped camping cots haphazardly set up in makeshift tents or humid caves.

it wouldn’t be too far from the truth to say he drags them along, but he doesn’t quite force them. they love him, they really do:  enough so that when he asks them to please accompany him, saying he’s just headed to liyue, it won’t be that bad, they believe him even though they know aether has a tendency to run and fight any hilichurl camp he sees, know that he camps out in the wild just to hunt and explore old ruins on side roads nobody crosses anymore

on the second week of following aether, they begin to miss home. love can only take them so far- and it’s hard to justify the cold nights spent in aether’s shoddy camping cot as he holds them close, the weather far too frigid and yet the body heat being all too suffocating to be comfortable. it’s hard to justify the long walks when aether keeps deviating from the main road to explore and take on odd jobs and quests, hard to justify the horror of watching aether bring down almost unspeakable violence and gore upon monsters that nearly make them feel pity for the hilichurls he runs into. that last part is the scariest part, really; how ready and eager he is to unsheathe his sword and stab and dig into anything that crosses his path, how he turns and casually smiles or chats with them even covered in his enemies’ blood and carnage as paimon just laughs at him for getting his clothes dirty. they’re too far from any city to consider returning by themselves, knowing how dangerous the roads are. when they ask aether when they’ll be able to spend the night at an inn or at least somewhere in a town, he never seems to have a straight answer.

aether wants to show how well he can take care of them and protect them. he already lost someone he cared about; now, he seems almost too eager to cause carnage and bloodshed, as if to prove himself he can do anything to protect his darling. more twistedly, he wants his darling to watch- as he slashes at hilichurls and mitachurls, as he stabs into treasure hunters and fatui skirmishers. this is how much he cares for them, this is how he’ll protect them!

it always leaves just a sliver of fear in his darling’s mind, even when he’s making sure they’re never hurt. the question of ‘when can i go home’ grows less and less frequent as they notice aether becoming more and more disgruntled by it- the quiet whisper in the back of their mind bringing forth the image of aether bathed in his enemies’ blood with his sword in hand, asking if they really want to risk angering him?

perhaps in another time, they’d have laughed at the idea of aether hurting them. but after a couple of months of being forced to trudge along him as he continues his search, nothing seems impossible. he’s already been to liyue by now- been there and left, and of course they had to go with him. sometimes he visits mondstadt and spends a few nights at their place; and then it’s back on the road, no questions asked. the townspeople coo at how adorable it is the hero of mondstadt found a lover so dedicated to follow him on his adventures. sometimes they wonder if it’s truly still dedication making them follow, or something else

aether is like a cat at times. it’s been a while since he rented a room in an inn to rest, being used to roughing it out in the nature- but today he’s rented a room in wangshu inn after doing a favour for the owner and scoring a discount. paimon is off eating the meal that came for free with renting a room, leaving the outlander with his lover. he leans into them, and they stroke his hair- if he could purr, he’d surely be doing so, judging by how his eyes close and he snuggles closer. but their hand moves almost automatically, muscle memory of a time past when they’d look forward to snuggling with their lover. now when they look at aether, they can’t help but see him as they usually do: violent, covered in blood, holding little to no regard for others. the events of what happened earlier in the day keep them shell shocked: they’d run into a treasure hunter just relaxing, doing nothing wrong. and then the man had complimented their hair and aether had run him with his sword before he could finish speaking, blood sputtering from his mouth as he slouched forward. the outlander had then shaken the blood off his blade and turned to his darling, smiling as if nothing had happened.

aether is possessive. he doesn’t want anyone to look at his darling the way he does: it’s not so much fear of them being whisked away as much as it is an... almost childish jealousy. it ranges from downright violence to those he deems are crossing the line to just immaturely glaring and ignoring others he thinks are paying too much attention to his darling. he doesn’t justify his attitude. there’s no “i do it to protect you” or “i do it because it must be done” kind of talk. aether just does as he wants, always turning to his darling with his gentle smile even after committing horrible attrocities

out of the two twins, aether was the impulsive one. the one to jump the gun, the more talkative of the two (which isn’t much to say, seeing as both lumine and aether barely used words). he follows his gut instinct, letting himself be carried by his emotions. way back, lumine would be there to hold him back, be there to keep him on check, and he’d do the same for her, maintaining a balance. but now in teyvat there’s nobody to keep aether in check, everyone either hails him as a hero or doesn’t mind him much, and all he has is his darling to fill the void in his heart

he’s just... not going to let them go. in aether’s mind, he’s already formed a picture of the future where he reunites with lumine and takes his darling with him as he and his twin travel around worlds. he talks about it, sometimes- and it’s terrifying. he loves them, loves them too much, and it seems like he forgets that they have a life outside of his love for them

the fire crackles in the campsite as aether pokes at it with a stick, making sparks from the not-quite dry wood crackle. the smell of smoke and burning wood has long since stopped bothering them. it’s by no means a comfort- it makes them miss their cozy home, where the only smell of burning would come from the small fireplace and good hunter’s nonstop cooking- but they don’t cough anymore, they don’t squint their eyes in fear of smoke getting into them. as always, paimon fills in the silence and aether sometimes answers back with a quip or a remark- to him, this is as good as it gets, at least until he finds lumine. there’s a bruise on their wrist from when aether tugged on it harshly to get them to duck and avoid a ruin guard’s misiles, and it makes them miss home even more. but there’s no point in asking him when they can go home: by now they know it’s either never or until a monster, a fatui or even an archon strikes him down. he’ll never let them go- if he wants to keep them by force he can, and they look at his sword resting by the fire, cleaned up after being stained by blood time and time again. sometimes they wish he had a vision they could shatter to render him a bit less powerful, to make it so he couldn’t keep going, and it’s a horribly selfish wish to have, but they’re allowed to be a little bit selfish in their fantasies, right? after all, aether has already taken their life from them, and he’s not handing it back.

[wri0thesley]

May I request some La Squadra childhood headcanons (upbringing/family/habits/demeanor) :)) Maybe Mista and Abbacchio too if it’s not too much trouble since we already saw a bit of baby Bruno and it made me so curious about the other two! I always imagined Abbacchio to be a bit of a teacher’s pet as a kid lol. Your writing brings me life tysm!!!!

warnings for abusive family, human experimentation, misogyny, illness, hospitals, death, etc! 

Risotto’s family did not care much about him. He’s the middle child of five - they grew up in a rural part of Sicily, in a house that used to be a farmhouse but was merely a house by the time Risotto came along (aside from a flock of chickens constantly in the gardens). He had a traditional Italian family full of people - various aunts, uncles and cousins - but his cousin was his favourite, seeing in Risotto’s quiet nature something similar to his own. Risotto was uncomfortable with there being too many people around and found his home life cramped and uncomfortable and loud. At the local village school he was often hunted out for games of sport (his height and muscle growing in at an early age), but he shied away from making friends, not sure how to handle himself around people who shouted and laughed, envying his siblings for everything seeming so natural. He often stayed with the cousin, and it’s through them he discovered metal music and his now signature look. His parents didn’t have time for him, but his cousin always did, becoming a makeshift father figure where Risotto’s failed. He grew very attached, and as we know, his cousins death hit him hard. 

Formaggio grew up with a single father; his mother simply disappeared in the middle of the night and he never heard from her again. He was always loud, brash and cocky - his father was much the same way. They moved around from place to place, his father taking odd jobs to sustain them and never really getting the hang of them. His father was fairly young and a perpetual teenager, and Formaggio was much the same way. Despite living in occasional poverty, he always had a smile and he and his father were close to one another. He did not really make friends - other children were aware of his unwashed clothes, the fact his lunch was not made as neatly as theirs, the fact that his address was a one-bedroom apartment on the bad side of town - so he turned to acting out and violence, gaining a reputation as a Badly Behaved Child. His father fell into Passione in the need to support his son, and like father like son, Formaggio followed in his footsteps at fourteen (finding a camaraderie and sense of responsibility he never had at school and subsequently just stopping going there). 

Illuso got into Passione for the money and the power. He was an only child and he had a nice upbringing, honestly - he just found himself not special at anything, and he desperately wanted to be. He flitted from hobby to hobby and interest to interest; he was clever and he noticed things, and neither of his parents really knew how to deal with their sharp-tongued child. He was a bit of a bully at school, but not the kind that is ever found out - Illuso’s bullying was quieter than that, whispered words and rumours that never seemed to find their way back to him. He was well-acquainted with blackmail before he turned sixteen. He knew how to sniff out weaknesses in other people - he was always surrounded by people, but it was a lottery as to whether they liked Illuso or whether they just didn’t want to be on his wrong side. Always willing to volunteer for things, too confident for his own good - eventually, he stopped caring about being ‘special’ at something, and just worked on being the ‘best around him’. 

Melone’s backstory can be found here. Both of his parents were academics and lecturers in genetic science, and he’s the eldest child by eight years. His family moved around rather a lot. He has two younger sets of twins as siblings; one set of boys, and one set of girls. Growing up, his parents considered him less interesting and a little slow - he turned to science and genetics as a way to get their attention and praise; despite the fact he showed a natural affinity for it, by this time, they were far more interested in experimenting on their younger children and Melone was ignored. His nature is curious and insistent - he learnt to insist or to be ignored. He had to look after his younger siblings a lot growing up; they were home-schooled where he was not, and the strange separation of them and him and all of the children at school (Melone not quite fitting into either group) meant that he always seemed just a little off. 

Prosciutto is a mafia man through and through. His family are entrenched in old bloodlines and uninvestigated deaths - unfortunately, though, they are a family that had somewhat fallen from grace by Prosciutto’s birth. The definition of faded glamour and keeping up appearances; rooms in a big, drafty old house that have an old bed and a falling apart dressing table. His father always talked to him about how it was his and his brothers’ job to keep the bloodline going - a traditional chauvinist of a man. His mother was very quiet and pretty; she encouraged him to small interests like old music and fashion, but was always silent around her husband. He grew up knowing his life was expendable. Youngest son of two; his elder brother died within months of finally being given his assignment within Passione and honestly, Prosciutto knows his father would rather he have died. A quiet little boy who did not make friends (he had a tutor) and had too much of the weight of the world on his shoulders in the knowledge of how many of his mother’s jewels were pasteboard, where the guns were kept, and just how many people he saw regularly were murderers. At his assignment at sixteen, Prosciutto had to learn exactly how to blend in, because many of the mafiosos he was suddenly surrounded by did not appreciate what they saw as his superiority. 

Pesci was an only child of a single mother; his father passed away when he was young. He was rather sickly growing up, and it made his mother indulgent - despite growing up fairly middle class, he never wanted for anything, and they lived well beyond their means. His mother fussed over him, always afraid that he was going to have a relapse into his childhood illness - very much a child wrapped in cotton wool. It gave him his own complex about taking risks; he didn’t want to get hurt. He didn’t want to be rejected by other children. He was slow at his schoolwork but devoted to his mother, and other children saw him as a prime target to bully. He was kicked around a lot at school and it eventually made him too easy to subdue when he suddenly filled out and shot up and became a threat; found himself, too often, a henchman to more articulate, meaner children. Grateful to be accepted, he went along with the flow, despite feeling in the very core of his gut that he was disgusted by them. He ended up in Passione because his mother needed medical treatment and in trying to sort it out realised just how much debt they were in.

Ghiaccio just had a normal run-of-the-mill described as ‘average’ by everyone upbringing - both of his parents, an only child, a mother with a professional job, middle-class. His father was partially deaf - in my experience, people with deaf parents either speak very loudly or very quietly, and Ghiaccio has gone for the former. He learnt LIS at a very early age, and it’s part of the reason he can be so anal about pronunciation and language as a whole - he’s utterly fascinated by it, and that fascination started in early childhood. His parents were also indulgent of him, but having a younger brother meant that he didn’t get the full brunt of that indulgence - his brother was a little more of a ‘rough and tumble’ boy. He liked football and weights, and when he took up a sport Ghiaccio’s parents decided Ghiaccio should learn to do something too and asked him what he thought - they were surprised when he said ice skating, but figured he would go into ice hockey or something. He didn’t. For a while, he was fairly well-known in the competitive figure skating under eighteens circuit. It gave him two things; one, a competitive need to win and be good at things (and a propensity to tantrum when he lost) and two, a taste for flashy, expensive things (have you seen this man’s car). His parents eventually didn’t know how to deal with his arrogance, and he fell into Passione based on a ‘sponsor’ he ended up embroiled with at nineteen when his parents didn’t want to fund his ‘hobby’ anymore (they kept pouring resources into his younger brother, of course - Ghiaccio always felt a bit like they didn’t take him seriously). He left ice skating competitively behind, but he couldn’t leave behind the nice things or the anger issues he accrued. 

I’ve written about Sorbet and Gelato’s childhood/backstory here! But a brief, shorter version:

Gelato had a loving family and a privileged upbringing. Always enough money, always enough to eat - an only child, who perhaps was a little rowdy at school but whomst his parents were very proud of. Both of them were traditional types; thinks a man should be strong, should be the real driving force of all relationships - they were extremely proud of him going into the army. Cleverer than people tend to give him credit for, sharp-eyed, a constant humming need to be doing something with his hands. 

Sorbet was orphaned at a young age in a house fire and taken in by a church orphanage. He’s quiet but equally clever; his cleverness tends to be a little less in your face. He was a comforting presence to other people and took care of the younger boys (even now, he feels a sense of duty to some of La Squadra) - being low-voiced, soothing and commanding. He spent a lot of time reading. The church orphanage was poor; Sorbet has learnt to appreciate luxury where Gelato takes it for granted and it’s part of the reason he’s so concerned with finances even in his forties. 

Abbacchio grew up in a houseful of women. His father left when he was still young; he was . . . not a nice man, and Abbacchio has vague memories of his mother carefully applying concealer over black eyes. It’s part of the reason Abbacchio became a police officer - knowing that he was still out there, not paying for what he’d done . . . Abbacchio wanted to ensure other people did not go through it. He had a little sister (by six years) who adored him, and his grandmother (who had once been an opera singer and still had a touch of that old-time glamour). He was fairly well off; at least, after he and his mother went to live with her mother again. His grandmother was EXTREMELY indulgent of her serious pretty-eyed grandson (his affinity for opera comes from her) who wanted so hard to be a Good Man. He was made fun of as a child for being a teacher’s pet and a nerd, you’re right - he adopted being a goth and dressing like that fairly early in his life. Nobody was going to threaten to punch him in leather and black lipstick, he thought - and nobody, too, needed to know that his CD player was blasting Monteverdi and not heavy metal. 

Mista was the only child of an unreliable mother and a father who left when he was four (he kept very vaguely in touch; Mista has three little sisters who he sees occasionally but keeps quiet about his employ to. After the events of VA, he’s established a fund for each of them, but he wasn’t really permitted to see them much growing up). Even after his parents leaving and his neighbour’s loss of an eye (and the subsequent setting in of his fear of the number four), he was an easy-going child who made friends easily and smiled at all and sundry; he was never particularly book-clever, but he was good-natured and had many friends. His mother’s lack of reliability meant that he became very fond of simple things other people took for granted - when she died, he was sad, but his life did not change much. He’d already learnt to fend for himself when it came to food and the like; often coming home to an empty house and simply making do. (The lack of food in the house is part of the reason he gained such an affinity for things he saw as luxuries like wines and cheeses). He learnt to use his dark eyes and charming smile and warm nature to win sleepovers with schoolfriends and evening meals with their parents. Always a little bit behind his peers in having cool gadgets or interesting stories, Mista was content just to have a simple life and good health. 

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 23

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

It doesn’t feel real until she sees the flutter on the ultrasound, the grey and white pixels flashing erratically confirming a healthy ten-week pregnancy. The doctor gives them a due date of September 17th, and she explains to Mulder repeatedly that the due date is only an estimate, that the baby will most likely arrive sometime in the two weeks before or after that day. Nonetheless, he prints little numbers in the corner of each date on the calendar, counting down.

She is lucky to experience very little nausea, but the time saved clinging to the toilet is instead allocated to bursting into tears at every tiny inconvenience. Mulder comforts her with a confused expression when she cries because she can’t find a Tupperware lid that fits, or her latte has too much foam, or she realizes she can no longer see her toes. She cries because she’s crying, because she feels out of touch with her own body and thrown off by her own emotions. They marvel at the growth of her belly as well as her breasts, which are even more sensitive than they were before. Her libido kicks into overdrive at the same time that she becomes incredibly self conscious about her protruding belly, her fuller face, her swelling feet. This leads to more tears as she grapples with both wanting desperately to be touched and not wanting him to look at her.

He tells her each day how beautiful she is, her hair growing longer and thicker, her skin glowing, her rounding belly housing the perfect little life that they created together. When he’s home, he rubs her feet every night, fetches her countless glasses of water and then helps tow her out of the bed so she can pee ten times in the night. When he’s on the road with Monica, he calls three times a day, asks Missy and her mother to go by and check on her, calls in dinner to be delivered so she doesn't have to cook. As her due date nears, he stops going on out-of-town cases, needing to be close enough to be by her side immediately when she goes into labor. He will not risk missing the birth of his child.

The apartment becomes cramped with a bassinet, changing table, pack n play, and various other baby gadgets. They consider moving, but the idea is too overwhelming for Scully so they decide to stay put until the baby becomes mobile and they really need more space. Mulder breaks the lease on his apartment and moves his fish tank into the living room, putting the rest of his furniture in storage until they buy a house. Priscilla breaks in all the baby gear, sleeping in the car seat and jumping into the swing, covering the tiny onesies with her black fur and making Scully cry yet again. Mulder refuses to let her scoop the litter box, even though she insists it’s safe if she wears gloves and washes her hands afterward. Other tasks she’s forbidden to complete include cleaning the toilet, carrying in the groceries and hauling laundry to the washing machine. When he’s on the road, she misses him as much as she is relieved to be able to be independent, not much caring for being treated as though she’s made of glass.

For the majority of her pregnancy, Scully insists that she doesn’t want to know the sex of the baby, that she wants to be surprised. Mulder respects her decision, even though he would personally like to know, and they create two lists of potential baby names, Scully crossing off “Lisa Marie'' each time Mulder tries to add it to the “girl” column. When she reaches 39 weeks, her pelvis widening as the baby drops into the birth canal, she is so miserable that she has a change of heart, needing to feel connected to this thing that is destroying her body and stealing her sleep. They call the doctor together on a Thursday afternoon as Scully sits on the couch in tears, having woken that morning to find angry red stretch marks marring her previously lily-white belly. When Mulder relays the doctor’s message that the baby is a girl, she sobs harder, and he’s not sure whether it’s because she’s happy or disappointed.

She wakes him at 3:00 am on September 21st, the irregular Braxton-Hicks contractions she’s been feeling for weeks having taken up a predictable cadence, now ten minutes apart almost on the dot. He starts rushing around, scrambling for her hospital bag and his shoes, and now it is her turn to provide comfort, to let him know there’s plenty of time. She doesn’t want to go to the hospital until the contractions are five minutes apart, and so they wait. The progression to nine minutes, then eight, then seven is alarmingly fast, and by the time she agrees that they should head to the hospital she’s starting to feel pressure low in her pelvis. Mulder drives too fast, the streets thankfully still quiet in the early morning, and she is wheeled into labor and delivery with not enough time for an epidural, much to her lament.

Molly Katherine Mulder has blue eyes and a dark shock of nearly-black hair. She barely cries at her entrance to the world, instead searching the room with a curious gaze, squeezing her daddy’s finger with an impressively strong grip and latching like a pro. They are able to go home the following day, Scully wincing as she moves gingerly from the bed to the couch, rinsing her tender stitches with a bottle of warm water and bleeding through entire packages of overnight maxi pads in a day.

Mulder takes off work for two weeks and they spend blissful days curled up in bed with the baby nestled between them as Priscilla curiously sniffs around her, licking her hair with a rough tongue and making them laugh. Each time Scully wakes at night to nurse, Mulder insists she go back to sleep while he changes the baby and walks her around the quiet apartment until she is asleep, singing softly and lulling them both.

When Mulder returns to work, Scully insists that he get a full night's sleep and let her wake up with Molly, reasoning that she can take naps during the day. She does not, of course, take naps during the day. Instead she tries to keep the apartment clean, the clothes washed, the diapers taken out to the dumpster, the litter box scooped. She does too much, and he sees it each day as she grows more and more weary, more and more defeated, the bags under her eyes deepening in color and her mouth rarely hosting a smile. He begs her to let him do more, to ask less of herself, but she is stubborn and strong-willed, the very things he loves about her now keeping her from properly taking care of herself.

They struggle through sleep-deprived arguments over who left the breast milk out on the counter all night, why it matters if he changes the baby on the floor instead of the changing table, why Scully doesn’t want to supplement with formula so he can take some of the night feedings. Her doctor releases her as medically clear to have sex after six weeks and she cries as she tells him that she doesn’t feel ready, that she can’t imagine anything worse than sex right now, and he holds her as he tells her that he doesn’t care, that she should take as much time as she needs, that he can wait.

They struggle, and they thrive. Moments of absolute unadulterated joy are punctuated by intense despair and overwhelm. The gain of a family against the loss of a life where you could pick up and go, stay out until 2:00 am and make love in the middle of the day. They are happy, and they are stressed, and they face it together.

On a Saturday in December, Mulder wakes early and takes care of every conceivable task in the house; the laundry, the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, scooping the litter, buying the groceries. He checks every item off Scully’s to-do list and then takes Molly for a long drive, leaving Scully alone with nothing to do in hopes that she will rest for once. When they return from their excursion, he creeps into the quiet apartment with a sleeping baby in his arms and sets her in the bassinet by the couch. At first he thinks maybe Scully has gone out, but he finds her in bed asleep with soaking wet hair, Priscilla curled up behind her knees. He watches her for a bit, affection clutching at his chest, then changes into sweats and kicks Priscilla out so he can snuggle up behind Scully. It feels so infrequent that they just lay like this anymore; one of them is always about to get up with the baby, about to get ready for work, or doesn’t want to be touched after a tiny person has clung to them all day. He pulls in a deep breath, smelling her lavender bubble bath and feeling the rise and fall of her ribs against his chest. He doesn’t want to disturb her, but he can’t resist pressing a tiny kiss to the side of her neck.

“Mmmm,” she hums in response, twisting her body around so they are face to face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers.

“It’s okay. Where’s Molly?”

“She’s asleep in the living room.”

She sighs and snuggles closer to him, pressing her forehead into his chest and pushing one of her legs between his.

“This feels nice,” she says contentedly, and he brushes his hand softly up and down her back.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Tired. Frumpy. Like I haven’t put on real clothes or a stitch of makeup in three months,” she laments.

“Well, I’ll give you tired,” he says softly, “but I can’t agree on frumpy. I think you look very beautiful.”

She scoffs against his chest.

“You don’t have to placate me, Mulder. I know I’m a mess.”

“Maybe so, but you’re my mess,” he retorts, pushing his fingers into her hair to gently scratch her scalp.

She tilts her head up to look at him, appraising his face with a skeptical eye.

“Is this what you thought it was going to be like?” she asks, her tone open and vulnerable.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.”

She sighs. “I just wish I knew when I might start to feel like myself again,” she says sadly. “I can’t help but feel like you’re not getting what you signed up for.”

“What do you mean?” he asks with a concerned frown.

He sees her eyes growing glassy, dampening with impending tears. “I mean the woman you asked out in the autopsy bay isn’t the one you’re with now,” she whispers, swallowing against the lump in her throat.

“That’s not even a little bit true,” he implores, cradling the back of her head with his hand. “You are everything you were then, and more. I’m amazed by you every day.”

She closes her eyes, a tear rolling across the bridge of her nose. He feels his chest ache; the need to make her understand is overwhelming.

“Hey,” he says, pulling the blankets back, “come here.”

He pulls her into a sitting position and slides off the bed, towing her along with him to sit on the edge of the mattress. He kneels on the floor between her knees, his hands on her hips.

“If you think for one second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I don’t care if you wear giant milk-stained T-shirts and have spit up in your hair for the rest of our lives, Scully. You’re it for me, okay?”

She pulls in a shuddering breath and wipes at her eyes, but won’t look at him.

“Stay here,” he commands, and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. When he comes back, he returns to his post kneeling at her feet.

“We knew this was going to be hard,” he says tenderly, holding one of her hands in his. “You said it yourself before Molly was born, that it would be the hardest time in our lives, and that we’d be at our worst. And I’m telling you that if this is your worst, sign me up, okay? It hasn’t changed how I feel about you.”

He holds up his other hand, a diamond ring perched between his thumb and forefinger.

“If you’re not ready to say yes yet, that’s okay, but I need you to know that I still want to marry you, Scully. I’ll wait forever if that’s what you need, but there hasn’t been a single day since I asked that I haven’t still meant it.”

Her tears have stopped, though her eyes are still wet and the tip of her nose is red. She looks from him to the ring and back, her eyebrows stitched in contemplation.

“I didn’t hear you ask me a question,” she says quietly, and he picks up on the slightest lilt of playfulness in her voice, which makes him break out into a smile.

“Dana Katherine Scully, love of my life, mother of my child, will you marry me?”

She smiles then, and he thinks his heart may burst right out of his chest.

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” she answers, and he takes her left hand, slipping the ring on her finger.

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him repeatedly, soft pecks devolving into lingering smooches as he shifts up slightly, pushing her back gently to recline on the bed. He moves over her, kissing along her jaw and down her neck, not going any further, not wanting to rush her.

She brings her hands to his hips, letting the tips of her fingers slip under the waist of his sweatpants, and his cock stirs. It’s been so, so, long, and he wants her desperately, but not until she’s ready. She pushes her hand down the front of his pants, gripping him as he grows hard under her touch. It’s overwhelming in the best way; he feels like a teenager being touched for the first time.

“I wanna have sex,” she breathes into his ear, the words rushing out quickly as though she’s afraid she might change her mind if she waits too long to say them.

He pulls back to look at her. “Are you sure?” he asks, and she nods, bringing her palm to his cheek before glancing at the ring on her finger and smiling.

They move slowly, though still with a sense of urgency that a baby sleeping in the next room brings. He pushes her shirt up and she lets him take it off, then slips the yoga pants off her hips, leaving her in basic black cotton briefs. He sees the hesitancy in her eyes as he looks at her body, now softer than it was before Molly, curvy in different places, purple streaks running from below her belly button to disappear under her panties.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing her chest, her breasts, her belly, running his tongue along the grooves of her stretch marks. He loops his thumbs under the waist of her panties and tugs them down slowly, quickly undressing before he rejoins her in the bed.

“Tell me if anything hurts, okay?” he asks with a serious expression, and she nods, letting her legs fall open as he settles between them. He lines himself up with her entrance and pushes in achingly slowly, watching her face raptly. Her mouth opens slightly, and she takes in a sharp little breath. He’s about to ask her if it hurts when she closes her eyes and her mouth drops open further as she breathes out “oh,” in a way that he knows means pleasure, not pain. When he’s all the way in, their hip bones pressed together tightly, he stills and kisses her for a while, feeling like he could melt into a puddle for how good everything feels. His heart, his mind, his body, he is all wrapped up in her and it’s exactly where he wants to be.

He begins to move, and she responds with an arch of her back and a little gasp, her hands clutching at his shoulders. Little by little, he increases his pace until he knows he won’t last much longer.

“What do you need?” he asks, and she brings her hand to her breast.

He dips his head, flicking at the hardened bud of her nipple, and feels her clench around him. He plays with the level of pressure, licking and sucking, pleasantly surprised that she is enjoying it even as her breasts have taken on a purely functional role these last few months.

She pulls in a huge breath, arching her back and pressing her head into the mattress and he groans as he feels her tighten around him. She emits a single piercing cry when she comes, stifling it with an arm slung across her mouth. He pours into her, burying his face in her neck, clinging to her like a life raft. She is, in fact, all he needs to survive.

Resting half his weight on the mattress beside her, he stays inside as they both come down, panting and smiling, brushing hands over each other’s skin, reconnecting.

“Ah!” Molly yells from the living room, and Mulder laughs.

“You’re being summoned,” Scully says with a tender smile.

He withdraws from her, handing her his T-shirt to clean up while he slips on his sweatpants and retrieves Molly from her bassinet.

“Guess what, Goose?” he says, using his special nickname for her, “Mommy and Daddy are getting married.”

“AH!” She squeals, flapping her arms.

[idris-hunts-the-mando]

Right place, Right time  \the departure pt.1/

Rating: Mature

Words: 6.1k

A/N:  this took me the bulk of a week to complete, i think ill make a few small bite sized works for a while, working on the next part in a week or so, once i get myself back together. give me all the love you as a reader can, I’m fueled by praise/hj 

pairings: none yet

Warnings: series typical violence, hard swearing, moderate gore

I woke up sore and hurt in the bunk room, the cold cot felt like frozen river stones under my tired bones. I could tell we arrived at our destination from the frostbite settling into my fingers and nose. The slow neutral hum of machinery was a tell tale sign that the ship was at ease, the noise usually deafening. Pulling my threadbare scarf up over my neck and chin, i started regretting choosing this particular cargo ship going to a frozen planet for a runaway plan. I braced for the aggravating beginning to the tiresome day and sat up from my cramped bunk space. sleeping in a room with a dozen oily work worn men didnt make any part of the trip to Maldo Keris easier, not to mention the fact they all saw me as more of a womp rat and less of a sentient being. keeping my eyes to myself, i shoved my tattered boots over my feet buckled my tool belt to my hip and hurried out of the barracks before the bulk of my crew mates woke up. stepping out onto the loading dock,i took a breath in. the smell of poorly filtered air irked my mechanics brain. It would be such an easy fix if they payed me to care. But alas, for this particular voyage, i was bunked out like a stowaway, giving in return my fix-it help around deck for passage off my planet of origin. Sighing out the musty air, i checked my stations. Navigating the hold was like a womp rat through a maze, you had to be rather nimble and graceful to get through the makeshift corridors without issue. Unluckily for me, I was neither nimble nor graceful. When i got to the panel, i took out my key ring and unlocked the rusted metal door to expose the intricacies within. the wiring looked tip top shape, but the fuel lines needed a bit more attention than the other tangle of electronics, so i took out my multi-tool to tighten the fittings. The liquid distilled Rhydonium that flowed through these particular lines was a less explosive substance than its pure form, but dangerous nonetheless. the multi-tool was a newer model, so it didn't fit this type of bolt all the way, but it was better than nothing. Better than allowing it to loosen over another voyage and have the ship explode mid hyper-speed.

  My mind was so stuck in its own world, the training I had over the many years in a scrappers shop spewing all of its knowings about rhydonium and fuel lines that I didn't have time to notice the first lieutenant Maegs stalking his way over to me. I jumped a moment before he spoke, tightening the last half inch of the bolt down maybe a bit too aggressively.

  "We the captains crew appreciate the helping you've been do'en for this ol beasty of a ship," he mentioned, one his independent eyes viewed me separably, while the second one was monitoring my work. I froze for a moment out of fear, but i didn't think he took notice. "You're more than welcome to stick 'round 'an see what else you can fix up for this rust-bucket." the first lieutenant never gave me much of a hard time, unlike most of the crew. But I had made up my mind the first night in hyperspace that I would haul ass out of this suffocating ship as soon as a habitable planet was spotted. I finished up closing and locking the wires box, shaking my head slowly and turning to face him.

  "I do love the sentiment, lieutenant. but maybe another time if our paths cross again." I forced an obligatory smile, avoiding making eye contact with him at all costs out of fear for not having the attention span to pick and stick to a wondering eye. If i could ever force myself to say something nice about the ship and its crew, it would be the acceptance of short interactions. A conversation rarely surpassed the 'how are you doing today' phase, by the moons it never got to that phase in the first place. And I was a person of not many words, and not much of a filter.

  Maegs nodded slowly, clasping two of his 4 arms behind his back and turning away. I felt the need to repay his unprompted kindness with some suggestions for the ship before I left it for good. Call me sentimental, but this ship, albeit mostly composed of literal blood sweat and spit, was my ticket into a new life. "don't let yourself get caught without changing the air filtration system, them new republic scouters are picky about what type of poison you use for cremates." I remark with a little smirk. Maegs paused, narrowing his eyes, amused by the backhanded remark. He had surely gotten complaints about the smell before. He gave a thoughtful nod toward me, and allowed himself a small smile. I looked down in my hands, the key ring still hanging off my index finger. I tossed it towards him and was relieved when he caught it. he turned with no further words needed. On his way to the control room, he pushed the cargo bay door release button. My line of sight was clear from the opening door to the nearby port town and when the frosty air stung my face, I knew in my soul that this was a good thing. Taking in a breath of the salted frozen air, my body naturally recoiled. I'm not one for cold. 'Ah well, way to go picking the nearest ice planet than idiot' I scolded myself, pulling my cloak back over my shoulders to take the first step out of the ship held together with sticker line and bantha spit. 'Good riddance'.

  Walking into town was harder than expected, the ice on the ground blended into the ice of the horizon, making spacial reasoning a thing of the past. The only anchor I had to the planet besides its heavy gravity was the stark grey buildings stapled to the sheets of ice about 10 meters in front of me. I never could have guessed the sky of Maldo Keris could get any uglier, but planets like these have a way of surprising a person. I tucked my hair and ears away with the hood of my raggedy travelers cloak, bracing myself from the heavy winds by retreating further and further into my cloths. I stayed on the worn path from the ship's dock port, hearing from previous crew mates that this was the warm season, that the ice was thinner and the creatures lurking underneath had no sense of remorse. Now nervous at the revival of that pleasant memory, I kept a close eye on my surroundings, not having the most faith in my feet for staying their course. The wind stung at my exposed skin, reminding me I was wearing only my work cloths that weren't  meant for the sudden change in climate. The cloak I had was best at protecting my human skin from the suns above. Beyond that, my tatterd outer layer didn't do much for the safeguarding of my body heat.

  I was relieved to have stumbled to shade from the wind so quickly, the heavy kit bag on my back was starting to feel more like a boulder taped to my body than a simple means of containing my tools and spare cloths. Paying attention to the signs overhead, i quickly located the nearest cantina and rushed towards it as fast as any human Popsicle can. Opening the circular doors with the press of a button took me into what felt like a summer time resort. Hiding my appreciation for the warmth from the patrons staring at me, i collected my composure and swiftly found an open table. The electronic doors closed rather harshly behind me. I recognized the sound of faulty pressure hinge and eyed the door for a moment when i took my seat. That door was a danger to customers who get caught in it, it could cause some serious injuries for larger species and even fatalities for humanoids.

  Sitting down at the frosty old wooden chair was a relief on the fatigue in my joints. It was neither a comfortable seat, nor a relatively stable one, but it gave me time to take off my pack and study the small, rather ugly, room I found myself to be in. It wasn't too long before I would have to order something, or I feared starvation. The crew mates on the cargo ship were kind, if the bare minimum counts. Food once a day (as per average in the parsec), and as much sleep as necessary per species or race. For humans in particular, that amount of time was annoyingly low. tired and hungry was a bad mix for me as it is, but add cold to that mixture, and the first person to get on my nerves would be the last. i checked the contents of my bag to make sure everything looked as it should and moved up from my chair, replacing the spot with my hefty bag. I was rather confident that if any Kung Nerfhearder tried to run off with it, it would be too weighted for them to get far. I may be rather small compared to other sub species of humans, but i pride myself on my strength often.

  Making my way to the bar counter, I lean up between two silent patrons sitting a few seats away from each-other. I get the barkeep's attention with a wave of my fingers, calling him to me. "What kind of meal do you have on the stove top right now?" I ask with my flattest low tone. In port towns like this its important to be as emotionless as possible in order to not draw attention to yourself. Colorless, shapeless, uniform and mad was always the role you had to play to make it through the galaxy.

  "We got a silver weed in the radiator, it'll be 3 credits." He replied, picking up a glass and wiping it out with his rag covered hand. I pulled the amount needed out of my pocket and set it down on the bar counter. he swiped his hand over the credits, picking them up quickly. nodding, he left the sight of the bar for only a spit second before returning to the table with a small bowl of mush. I tried my best to smile and be thankful for the meal, but as the bowl transferred to my hands I had to focus on not gagging. I hurried back to my private table in the corner and settled back into my seat, dropping my bag on the floor between my legs to keep it as safe as possible. The last thing I want is a soup that tastes like the scrapings of a persons shoe into street worn snow, but what can you expect on a planet such as this. Prodding the gelatinous mass in the bowl with my spoon, I ponder the ever growing question of 'what in the hell is in this shit'. my mind wonders deep into its personal wonderland while my environment continues to be less and less favorable.

     Hostile voices from the other side of the cantina rise louder and louder, as if at the warm up stage of a slowly progressing screaming match. The feeling of sourness in my heart rose with a predictable inclination. The tension in the air grows as yet again the same scene unfolds before my and all other patrons of the cantina's eyes. I strain my neck to see what was happening. At the far end of the room, closer to the door than I am, I saw the oddly familiar face of a poor amphibious creature's head being slammed on the table he was sitting at. The oldest and most primal of situations, the strong picking on the weak. Three tall imposing figures towered over the poor humanoid looking fellow who was obvious to any idiot to be lacking in intimidating features. Seeing this obligatory show of power for any insecure creature with anger issues never sat right with me. It reminded me too much of where I came from, the slums of sand and glass where bullies like these were treated like royalty without challenge from the ones they harassed.

     'Dank ferrik, don't do it' i challenged the assaulter internally, as if pleading with them to harm their victim any more so I would have a reason to put in use my blade skills. i had no idea where I've seen that face before, but as they say, curiosity killed the Cathar. And there it happened, the final action in the escalation. The largest of the assaulter lifted the poor guy to his feet and the ring leader lifted his knife to the throat of his victim. A cry of anguish and fear came from the poor fool being restrained, and that was my last straw.

     I stood from my chair, kicking away my bag and drawing my vibroblade from my thigh holster, walking over to the group across the tavern. I growl, squaring my shoulders and stiffening my legs to make me seem bigger. I must have looked pretty wild, my tattered cloak drawn over my body like a dark fog, and my scarf still pulled up like a mask over my nose with only my furious green eyes over the top. Just as I started my warpath towards the men, the heavy ring shaped door to the cantina opened abruptly, startling a few of the onlookers. I knew what type of situation I had put myself in and how important focus and intimidation was, so I didn't take any time away from the assholes with blades to gawk at who had happened to stroll in. With my attention solely married to the poor bastard and his assailants, I noticed all of their attention was stripped from their target and glued to the newcomer. Evaluating my surroundings, I saw most of the other patrons in my sight were enthralled too. This piqued my interest and I felt it safe enough to turn and check out the royalty.

     Standing soberly at the bar counter, the figure of a mandolorian stood in silence, facing the bar keep. My heart dropped first, than my jaw. Only legend, only in the oldest fables and the scary stories my nan would use to scare me into not stealing the sweets late at night, had I ever heard of the likes of him. from the bescar armor forged in the heart of a black flame forge (or so i've been told) to the galaxy known creed of mandalore, this being was the stuff of leadgeneds. To be feared and adorned wherever they so chose to walk. but not anymore. Not since the planet turned to glass a hundred years ago, destroying much of what was known of the infamous warriors.

     I don't think the aggressors saw me and the dangerous piece of weaponry clasped in my hand, instead they looked drunkenly amused at the new patron, like sly cats with a new toy. surveying his surroundings, the warrior's expressionless visor swept the room. He inspected the threat levels of the patrons, the bullies, the amphibious humanoid sucker that was caught under it all. The mandolorian made no comment as he momentarily swept over me, with my clenched fist around the vibroblade. Rather he ignored me entirely, leaning against the bar counter and staring absentmindedly at the wall ahead of him. The scum saw this as an odd mandolorian intimidation tactic and took it to heart, growling a string of multilingual insults. I couldn't quite understand all the words from their  chosen dialect, but something about a drink spilling and how it was somehow the mando's fault.

     when they didn't get a response, they snorted, puffing their chest out and stalking towards the armored newcomer. Continuing to talk in another language I didn't understand fully, the bar keep attempted to translate, feeling the tensions rise in the air. "He says you spilled his drink." a moment of silence, with the smell of anger wafting from the half intoxicated bantha shaggers, And the barman attempted to diffuse the situation by offering the men drinks to hopefully get them to settle down. And by the two suns it did not. The drink slid from the barkeep's hand and down the table. The mandolorian took it out of its trajectory and started the assault, smashing the creature's head on the counter to his right and simultaneously twisting the louder man on his left arm until the knife in his hand stabbed himself in the ass. As the third attempted to run out the front door, mando caught him with his grappling wire and pulled him back. The tangled creature got his blaster from a thigh holder and shot a round at his would-be captor. The blaster fire ricochet off the bescar Armour, bringing the mando's attention to his own firearm. With the tangled assaulter in the right position, mando fired a single shot at the door of the cantina, Forcing the wiring to go into hyperactive shut down, closing the doors around the alien. The doors struggled for a moment, and so did the thing caught in it, but nothing stopped the metal and electricity from slicing through the meat of its body. The legs of the now dead man fell to the ground at the door with a sickening thump.

     After this, the silence in the room was so thick you could swing at it with a hatchet and not make a dent in the shock factor. unsurprisingly enough, every patron went back to their own businesses with each other as if nothing had happened. A pair sitting at a table close to the door went swiftly to the half body to move it away to continue the flow of traffic as they then scurried out the doors, carrying the top half between them. Scavengers i bet, black market womp rats' i thought, sighing at how quickly the circle of life can flash before your eyes. death isn't something to be dewlled on in a universe like this, now back to the issue at hand.

     recollection hit me like a half ton of bricks when I remembered where I saw the face of the teal looking bastard with a knife previously on his neck. Spite flooded in my blood as I narrowed my eyes at my next target, shoving my vibroblade back in my thigh holster aggressively and stomping towards the useless excuse of flesh. "You're a dead man now, Mythrol." I said to myself. he must have heard me, or possibly sensed all the rage walking swiftly at him. His eyes upturned towards me, full of fear, but I now remember there is an ugly smugness to him too. I made it to the table, putting my hands down in front of him, leaning my top body weight on my palms. "You better have a divine excuse for not meeting me at that port you Druk Nerfhearder, or you'll be seeing the wrong side of the ice ocean outside in 30 seconds." I could barely contain my frustration with this sniveling worm, he was the reason i had to bunk with the disgusting oiled engineers for a week in hyperspace. The reason I had only 12 credits in my tech vault and less than that on hand. He scammed me out of a decent ride and my entire years savings. It was a genuine miracle how well I kept myself from not leaping over the table he sat at and giving him a new meaning to crazy bitch.  

     "H-hey, hey you, long time no see huh, man am I sorry for missing out on that meting we had that one time, sorry pal I kinda slept in-" but before he could make up any more exuces, any more lies, my vibroblade was at his throat right where the other man's was just a moment ago. He hissed and recoiled back in his seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times, trying to breathe, to speak. whichever it was, it wouldn't matter soon. He had talked enough in his lifetime to anger hundreds of poor victims throughout the parsec, letting him one last word would be a dishonor to all of them.

     Before I could press the blade into his flesh, a firm leather covered hand wrapped around my forearm, pulling it away carefully. I looked at the arm, attached to it was a shoulder, and atop the shoulder sat a gleaming bescar helmet. I felt my heart sink into the depths of my stomach, the anger switching places with feral panic that I tried my absolute best to contain. No words came from the mandolorian, a simple shake of his head was all i got. he loosened the grip on my arm, letting it recall back to my center of gravity.Ii looked down at the arm, looking for any obvious signs of damage, but his grip was closer to gentle and firm than harsh. A soft metallic thud brought my attention to the table, where the mando has tossed a puck. A bounty puck. Today was certainly a day for emotions, because T felt as pleased as a jawa coming across the flashing screen of Mythrol's face on the holographic screen projected by the puck.        Mytrol looked between me and the mandolorian a few times before painting his face with a fake smile, the wheels in his head turning into overdrive trying to make a lie up to get himself out of this one. "Is that me?" he questioned, the forced denial barely hiding the fear in his eyes. "Aw come on, I can pay you more than that pitiful bounty, a whole new cruiser," he pleaded, bargaining for his life. "on me, waddaya say."

     The mandolorian doesn't waste a breath to reply, his electronically filtered voice filling the getting-to-be awkward silence. "I can take you in warm." he placed a hand on his hip holster, bringing attention to the deadly gun strapped in it. "Or I can bring you in cold." Mythroll's face turned pale with fear, looking like a sort of pale blue spirit. Gulping down what could have been vomit, or another plea for life, he couldn't move at all, just staring at the mandolorian's unfeeling visor.

     The mandolorian slaps restraints on mythrol's wrists, pulling him up and out of his chair in one swift motion, the disparaged lump following along with his hands bound together. He seemed resigned to his fate as he was pulled out of the cantina, leaving in his wake and eruption of whispers and a few sobs of relief from the clientele of the bar. I myself was in a state of shock by what had happened and the intense speed at which it had occurred, Standing in front of a table with drops of blood on it not knowing what to do next. Mythrol had cheated me out of a lot of money, and he was just walking away, atoning for crimes he didn't commit against me. that in and of itself felt somewhat fair, fair to any of the galaxy he had screwed over so far.  

     My body flew back to my table mostly on its own, smashing into the chair at which I had just been sitting less than a minute ago. I hauled my ridiculously large bag over one shoulder, the extra strap free in the wind. I knew i had to at least try. for myself. Running back to the door panel where the halfed creature had met his end, I slammed the controls urgently, opening the door back out to the wild wind of Maldo Keris. Scanning the nearby environment was hard without protective goggles to shield me from the dust and yuck in the wind, but I spotted a pair of hulking figures 15 yards from the cantina, moving at a steady pace away. Try for me, I can do this one thing for myself. I sprinted as fast as I could with the pack over one shoulder, making me surely look like some sort of lame bantha to any possible onlookers. "Wait! wait please!" I called out to the mandolorian, my tone accidentally becoming demanding, but I think that helped to get the mandolorian's attention. They stopped and Mythrol looked at the mando, as if he was pleading to get him away from me in fear I had came back just to fight a mandolorinan for a chance to stab him again. As tantalizing as that thought was, the actions I were taking were purely selfish. I deserve justice just as much as any poor sap sad enough to cross paths with the scamming womp rat or the mystery person who called for the bounty.

     "Please let me come with you for when you collect his bounty." I asked somberly, stopping my chase a few paces away from the pair standing together. "I swear I wont take the credits from you, I just want to see him pay for what he's done." Tiny beads of sweat pearled at my brow, my breath was labored in my throat. Even walking with my bag was hard, but I had just chased down a bounty hunter and his captive. Strands of my hair stuck to my forehead and I wiped them away with the back of my forearm once they crept into my eyes.

   Mytrhol had to get his two cents in of course, holding the bounty hunter by the cape and making his eyes go wide with worry. "I don't know who this person is, don't let them come along, they could try to hurt me!" He plead, tugging on the cape like a whiny child. Now the anger came back, a cold rage in my fists, ready to start brutalizing someone at the drop of a pin. I narrowed my eyes at Mythrol, who didst bother to return the look. the mandolorian stared for a moment, looking off behind me in thought. The worry then set in, a fear whispered in the back of my skull 'You'll never get your closure and die alone on this hell planet.' My eyes went to the obsidian visor of the mando, creasing my brows together, subconsciously chewing on my lip as he made his decision. Loosening his shoulders, he slumped his head downward, as if morally defeated. I was taken aback by the conflict he was having about weather or not to let a weird stranger aboard his ship or not. oddly enough I understood his seeming frustration, I wouldn't let me go if I were him. He picked his head up after a second, looking me up and down as if to study me entirely. I felt eyes over my body, it was weirdly intimate. When he made his way back up to my eyes, he stood in silence for a moment before asking. "Do you have any weapons on you besides the blade?"

   Certainly a different question than what I thought was going to be asked, so for the answer, I had to think about it for a moment, mentally going through my bag and person. "n, no. I have my vibroblade. and a sack full of my electrician's tools, but they arn't traditional weapons." I responded earnestly, my tone going flat again. Another moment of silence, Mythrol looking quickly between the bounty hunter and myself.

   "If you truly wish to see the bounty delivered, I can take you to the trade. In exchange for the ride there, my ship needs mild internal repairs. If you try to cross me," He paused, a hand went to his blaster as a warning. A flashback to the cantina entered my forethought, the image of his hand on his blaster the same way as it was now moments before a man got cut in half. The warning was received properly, I felt thoroughly intimidated. "You'll be dead before you could pray to any gods." damn. That was intense. thoroughly intimidated, to the core. i took a breath in, almost allowing myself time to rethink my request in its entirity. but i responded with a quick nod. I knew my way around most ship interiors, if the ship wasn't rusted and breaking in half on take off, i knew i'd be able to mend it.

   The mandolorian gave no other word to me and turned, walking towards the ice flats docking crew. I allowed myself a cheeky smirk, fulfillment at the succession in my pursuit gave my heart a good warm squeeze. Following along behind the mandoloian a pace, he negotiated with the docking crew, asking oddly enough for a live pilot, not a droid. Some harmonic whistling came from the ferryman, hailing over a rust bucket of a speeder. As the speeder came to a stop to collect its haul, rusted pieces of under backing fell from the rear, clanking to the ice annoyingly. We all loaded into the speeder, I sat in front with the driver, the mando and his bounty in the back, a gloved hand around Mythrol's bicep at all times. We reached out frozen destination, the driver of the speeder calling one last warning to the three of us after collecting his dues and puttering off towards the port.

   I took a moment to asses the hull of the razor crest, it wasn't too bad for a pre new republic vessel. Some battle scars here and there around the landing gear, a charred blaster fire mark on the windows of the cockpit. This was truly the ship of a bounty hunter. Turning to follow the speeder's course, I couldn't help but feel a deep unease, he had warned about the ice planet's personal creature of death, Ravanack. Just then, the entire rusty hull of the speeder and its driver were swallowed whole in a single angry bite. The ravanack retreated back into the ice just as Mythroll let out a girlish scream of terror. He booked it twords the mandolorian who was opening the hatch to the belly of his ship, screaming for dear life to let him in. The ice where the speeder was swallowed started cracking in the direction of the ship, very quickly speeding directly at Mythrol.

   My instincts kicked in and I hopped out of the way, swinging myself onto the floor of the cargo hold of the ship with the momentum of my bag. Just as i got out of harms way, the mandolorian swung himself out of the ship to grab the petrified blue idiot only moments before the jaws of his early death lunged out of the ice, driving sickeningly deep into the landing gear of the razor crest. I winced at the damage done, scrambling back away from the flying Mythroll the mando had haphazardly chucked at me. The mandolorian seemed to ignore me entirely, herding his bounty into the cockpit with him. As the engines revved and the propellers blasted their heat down towards the ice at max capacity, the beast clung tightly to its prey of metal and paint, determined wholeheartedly to bring the ship down to its frigid death. The mando hopped down the ladder, rushing to the cargo bay door with his riffle. he stabbed the bayonet into the beast's head, sending a current of electricity into its skull. the beast roared furiously, releasing the ship and sinking back into the inky ocean.

   I collected myself and scrambled up off the floor. the cargo bay doors closed quickly, leaving the mandolorian and myself in the ambient humming of the bay. His breast plate rose and fell, getting less an less noticeable as he calmed down. turning towards me. He nodded at a upturned metal basket with a weather worn blanket tossed over it. I took the hint and put my bag on top of the makeshift stool, retrieving from it my more universal tools. Going from one job to another wasn't my ideal, but this was a more opportunistic adventure. My original goal was only ever to get off the sun bitten planet i was from, beyond that was up to fate, and I can't really complain about where it took me today. Now i'm headed to gods know where with a mandolorian and his bounty who single-handedly ruined the last year and a half's hard work I had done. turning my head towards the mandolorian, I saw him stand in the hallway between the cargo bay and the cockpit, eyeing his bounty.

   Words hung on the end of my tongue, ready to ask millions of questions out of pure adrenaline fueled thrill. But I stopped myself from spilling over, taking notice of the details in the mando's body for the first time. For the most feared warrior in the galaxy, this man looked as any other bounty hunter. His armor was chipped and dented, highlighting the flaws in the outer most shell of himself. A deep rooted curiosity took roots just then, desiring to know more of what laid under his iron and bescar plates. "Where should I start working first?" I asked as politely as possible. feeling a need to use respective words when in the presence of a man who just stabbed a water beast in the head. This got his attention away from the bounty if only for a moment. He paused for a second, going through the archives of his mind to see where needed the most urgent attention. Turning 180 degrees, he lifted a gloved hand to point at the panel of buttons and levers at the end of the metal room. It looked mostly in tact, but only mostly. There was blaster char at the center of the damage, near the bottom left hand corner of the panel itself. "Yikes." I whispered mostly to myself, reaching in my bag for a clean oil rag. Acknowledging the mandolrian's request with a glance and half nod, I got to work at the station. It looked to be the control panel for the gun hold under the main cargo bay. The possible stories tied with the maiming of this piece of equipment swarmed my mind, finding my own way of theorizing any number of adventurous tales.

   A few minutes go by, tweaking the damaged area as best I could to fit my hands into the circuitry. Mythroll passed by quickly, entering the open door of the munitions hold to the ladder down. I got nervous for a moment, than I heard him calling back to the mandolorian pilot, talking about molting and stellar seasons. What an odd being. Slimy thieving nerfhearder. Going back to work, not questioning the reasons tmythroll went down there. so wrapped up, figuratively and literally, in the wires of the control panel, i hadn't noticed mando sneaking past me, silent as death. I hadn't noticed him, that is, until I heard the thumping and crashing of combat and the pitiful yelps of the bounty rise to draw my attention toward the lower hold. Mythroll's shout cut short with an angry metallic hiss. The fear now taking a hold of my stomach, I pulled my hand out of the tangle to look nervously down the ladder, seeing the mando start his ascent. "carbon freezing." he said simply. I know his intention was to explain what had just happen in hopes to ease my worry, but no. it worried me more. Drawing my thought to the intense reality that I was willingly trapped on the ship of a proven dangerous bounty hunter. I felt rather idiotic in that moment, the crushing weight of the situation bringing me to a moral defeat. The mando slid by me, his body language more casual than it should have been seeing as how he had just half killed someone in the hold of his ship. He paused momentarily, looking over my work. nodding, He left in silence, returning to the cockpit.

   After a second, I gathered my thoughts and took a deep breath into my lungs. The reality of my life now was flipped upside down and tossed into a spinning vortex of crazy, but I know my strengths. I know myself and what i can handle. This? was obviously odd and scary and new, but the skills I cary can get me far. Exhaling, I focused my mind at the task at hand. Knowing my entire world was going to be changing from here on out was more calming than expected. The determination I felt towards my own new chapter of life soothed my aching back and fried nerves. This was going to be epic.

   A/N: i'm so glad to have finally finished this, holy hell ;-;    

[ladynestaarcheron]

“Fae fertility cycles had never been something I’d considered, and explaining them to Nesta and Elain had been uncomfortable, to say the least.

Nesta had only stared at me in that unblinking, cold way. Elain had blushed, muttering about the impropriety of such things.” A Court of Frost and Starlight, page 45.

So…Elain doesn’t want to talk about periods. Where ever did Feyre, a girl who lost her mother when she was eight, learn about hers? I wonder...and thus this was born.

---

Nesta's loved stories all her life, but she doesn't think she'll ever be able to write one, because whenever she tries to in her head, this is what she comes up with: Once upon a time there were three beautiful princesses who lived in a beautiful castle. Then their mother died and their father lost all their money and they had to move into a rundown little cottage on the edge of town. The end.

Sometimes, when the night is quiet and she has time to think, she puts a bit more effort into it. Swaps the beautiful for different adjectives that fit each of the three of them in turn (clever, kind, creative, when she is feeling generous, cold, silly, and hopeless when she is less so), and describes the castle in more detail. Carved from the earth itself is a phrase she rather likes, although she's not sure it would make for a pretty home and it definitely isn't true, anyway.

Tonight is particularly quiet, because Elain has been asleep for hours and Feyre still has not come to bed, so Nesta takes her time in her mind to write something that might be worthy of putting to paper one day. Perhaps it's time she comes up with a different beginning than once upon a time...

Nesta's internal narration, however, is sharply cut off with a crash and a stumble. Elain stirs slightly next to her, but does not wake.

"For goodness' sake," she hisses, sitting upright. "What on earth are you making all that racket--"

Her castigating falters when she catches sight of her youngest sister's face. The moonlight spilling in the room catches on the silver in Feyre's eyes, the tears streaming down her face. She's shaking.

Nesta pushes the blanket off of her and crawls out of bed to meet her. "What is it?" she asks, tightening the tie of Feyre's nightgown. She's not quite sure what to do. If Feyre cries about their mother or their, well, life, she does it to Elain or Father, and only when Nesta cannot see. And Elain always goes to Father, so it's been quite some time since Nesta's had to comfort anyone but herself.

"I think I'm dying," Feyre whispers, voice cracking, and Nesta's heart lurches. Typhus? Like their mother? Oh, and they do not have nearly the same amount they had when Mother was sick; what medicines will they be able to afford? Because so much of it was spent on Father's leg--not that he's ever attempted to earn any of it back, of course, and now it's twelve-year-old Feyre who'll have to suffer for it.

Still. Best not to scare the child any further.

"What do you mean?" Nesta says, making her voice calm.

"I have a terrible headache," Feyre says, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, "and the worst stomach pains of my life and my back, too--"

Nesta's breath stops in her lungs. All the symptoms of typhus Mother had, except for the rash. All the forgotten gods. What are they going to do? Should she wake Elain and Father for this? She should, shouldn't she? But what good will that do? Are they all to sit by Feyre's side and wait for her to die?

"--and I'm bleeding."

Nesta blinks at that. Mother had had a cough, sometimes, but very dry; no blood at all. "You're bleeding?"

Feyre can't answer vocally. She only nods.

Nesta gives her a once over. She doesn't see any blood. "Did you fall?" she asks, puzzled. "Where is the blood?"

The room is too dark to tell, but Nesta thinks Feyre's cheeks flush. "I didn't fall...it's--I'm--it's under my nightgown."

"Well, sit down and lift it up, so I may have a look."

"No," Feyre says, clutching herself tighter still. "It's...you won't know what to do. You cannot...it's between my legs," she blurts out, and clenches her hands into fists as she tries to control her sobs.

Relief crashes over Nesta, as violently as the grief of her mother's death. Along with a bit of guilt--she had not realized she should warn Feyre about cycles. Elain had merely come to her one day, red-faced and squeaking about where Nesta kept the linens, and she had shown her. But she had known about it all--well, Nesta is not quite sure Elain is very well aware of sex, but at any rate...

"You're not going to die, Feyre," she says, awkwardly patting her sister on the shoulder. "Come here. I'll draw you a bath."

"You..." Feyre says, sniffling slightly, "you know what to do?"

"I do," she says, and turns so her sister can undress and slip into the tub. They're not going to be able to afford hot water soon, are they? What'll they do then? Boil it in the fireplace? "All right, stay here and calm down. I'm going to get you something to help you settle."

Nesta makes her way to the kitchen, heating up some tea for Feyre and putting a small bit of brandy in as well. Just a little bit, to help her fall asleep. She supposes they'll need to have more poppy and willow bark on hand for pain now, if Feyre'll be having back aches as well as cramps.

Feyre is submerged underneath the water by the time Nesta returns. She hands her the tea and sits on the floor by the bath. "All right," she says, half wishing this had fallen to Elain, half grateful on Feyre's behalf that it is not their silly sister explaining this. "Well. I suppose you have not heard about cycles."

Feyre thinks. "I...suppose not."

Nesta's lips quirk. She should just say it. "You know how pregnancies start."

It is again too dark to be certain, but Feyre reddens, she thinks. "I--I have not--"

"No, no, I know you haven't," Nesta says, vaguely wondering where Feyre has learned about sex. She decides she does not want to know. "At any rate. Before...that, a girl's body needs to be ready. For pregnancy. So every month, the body goes through a cycle. And at the end of the cycle--" or is it the beginning? Nesta can never remember. "--you bleed. And you can feel cramps or back aches or headaches or any of the life...for a few days."

"How many days?" Feyre asks, fingers tightly holding onto the cup.

"Depends. Elain's is three. Mine is five. Sometimes it can be different...especially in the beginning."

"The beginning?"

"Now. For you. Your first few cycles, I mean."

"How many will there be?" she asks.

Nesta shrugs. "I don't know...once every month until you can't bear children any longer. So around..." Feyre is twelve, this should last till she's around fifty... "four hundred fifty, give or take."

Feyre's eyes widen. "Four hundred and fifty?"

"Well, don't think about it that way," Nesta says hastily, realizing how morbid that sounds. "Just...track your months as they come. You'll barely think of it in a year from now."

Feyre sips her tea. "I never knew you and Elain..."

"Well, it's not something you can really tell. It's not like your skin changes color or anything." She adopts a more timid tone. "It's...all right. Really. I'll bring you some stuff for pain tomorrow. And it should get better. Each day is easier than the last, and by the time your grown, it'll probably hurt less, too." Nesta's only fifteen herself, so she's not entirely sure that's true, but it's what Mother told her. "Anyway. Baths help. And they're good to rid the blood...oh. I'll show you how to put on linens..."

After Nesta has wrapped Feyre's under things and crawled back into bed, her mind wanders once again to her story. What if the ending were different this time? Somehow. The mother not dying, perhaps. How would that go? If they were all in the rundown little cottage together?

Before the words have faded from Nesta's mind and sleep claims her, the bathroom door opens once again. Feyre shuffles out and into bed, taking her place on Elain's other side.

"Thank you, Nesta," she whispers, voice soft and still watery from her scare.

"It's okay," she says back, softly. It's not quite a proper reply, is it? But perhaps it's what she needs to hear, anyway.

She'll wake early and rouse Elain, she decides. Tell her to extend some extra kindness to Feyre...and that should be all right. Not a perfect ending. But maybe a little better then what might've been, too.

[tiny-slasher]

Bo Sinclair x Reader | Swamped

Alternate Universe where Bo and Vince aren’t murderers.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

I had a dream the other night about Bo, and decided to turn it into a fic. My dream was actually a bit darker toned...but it didn’t turn out that way in the fic. So if this seems a little chaotic, that’s why. Blame dream me. Dream Sweepy is a different entity altogether. She should not be trifled with.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Your soaked shoes squelched against the burning pavement, steps heavy as your waterlogged clothes weighed you down. You angrily wiped the sweat from your brows as you squinted, trying to see even a foot in front of you in the bright, afternoon sun.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Your sister's voice grated on your ears, making you clench your teeth in frustration. You heard her quicker steps try and keep up with yours; her own shoes splashing water against your legs as she got closer.

"Please say something? I said I was sorry!"

You sharply turned to her and snapped, "Tell that to the car sinking in the swamp."

Your sister pushed her sweat-soaked hair from her face, expression the most apologetic you'd ever seen. The anger in your heart fizzled a bit when she whispered another apology, but that didn't ease your frustration. Your nerves were still a bit rattled after the ordeal, and there was a bruise forming on your shoulder from where you'd hit the window of your car. Irritated didn't begin to cover how you felt.

Still, you were thankful neither of you had gotten hurt.

"How far do you think we gotta walk?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't know."

"My feet are starting to hurt..."

"Be thankful you still have feet."

She huffed and crossed her arms, muttering under her breath as she trailed after you. You couldn't really blame her...it was very hot, and the two of you had been walking for over an hour. You continued for a while longer, each step more difficult than the last. You'd developed a pretty nasty headache, either from thirst or from the heat, and your sister wasn't doing much better.

"Hey, you think there's anyone up over there?"

You looked up to where your sister was pointing, eyes widening. There, slightly obscured by trees was some sort of old building, made almost entirely out of wooden planks. The windows were dingy, and a screen door covering the entryway. It almost seemed abandoned, if it hadn't been for the old pickup truck parked on the dirt in front of it.

"Come on," you said, making your way off the paved road and onto the dirt.

As the two of you made your way over, you saw a sloppy, hand-painted sign at the top of the building that read "Mechanic", and you raised an eyebrow at it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you walked up the front creaking front steps. Your sister stood close behind you, her posture just as nervous as your own. You rolled your shoulders back and straightened up, and headed into the building.

The screen door rattled and creaked loudly as you pushed it open, the springs holding it shut straining against your hold. You heard the low, static hum of a radio playing some sort of old country song. There were boxes of tools and grease-covered appliances without any real organization, and the floor looked like it had never been swept.

"Vince, shut the damn door 'fore you let the gnats in!"

You stepped into the room, your sister less than a foot behind you, and turned to your right to see two young men. One was standing, resting his arms on a wooden rail that acted as a room divider. A dirty hat rested on his head, and his grimy hands picked at the splintering wood they rested on. The other man was sitting in a chair, with his boot-covered feet up on a scratched up desk that took up nearly all the space in the cramped area. He was messing around with a pocket knife, running his thumb over the blade innocuously. There were papers scattered over the entirety of the desk, rustling in the breeze of the desk fan that sat in the corner. You noted the few other pocket knives laying around, holding the papers down.

The one standing noticed you first, and his relaxed expression grew a bit nervous. He cleared his throat, offering you a grimy, but polite smile. The one sitting lifted his gaze towards you, and paused in his fiddling. You swallowed as his gaze pierced you, pinning you in place without having to move a single muscle.

"You definitely ain't Vince."

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, eyeing the man down almost glaringly.

"Well come on in then," he sighed, setting his feet on the ground and running a hand through his tousled and slightly sweaty hair.

You stiffly walked and sat in a chair on the other side of the desk, thankful to finally give your feet a break.

The standing one walked over with another chair, gesturing for your sister to sit in it. She thanked him, and practically fell into it with a loud sigh. You caught an amused glint in the sitting man's eyes, before he turned back to look at you, squinting at your damp clothes.

"What can I do for ya?"

"We need a ride."

"Car troubles, right?" His brows furrowed, "You too cheap to have me fix it or somethin'?"

"I don't think you can fix it," you dryly replied, earning an offended scoff from him.

"If anyone can, it's Bo," the standing man said behind you, a proud smile on his face as he gestured to the man in front of him.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose, "No it's not...trust me it's not worth the trouble at this point."

The man standing behind you shifted as he continued to lean on the railing, as the sitting man...Bo, squinted at you.

"The hell'd you do to it?" he asked judgmentally.

You crossed your arms with a pout, and out of your peripheral you saw your sister begin to sink lower and lower in her seat, hoping to not be brought into the conversation. Bo, however, noticed, and leaned back in his chair with a raised eyebrow.

He smirked at you, "Ah, someone decided to sabotage the ride, huh? What'd she do? Put her hand over your eyes?"

Your sister sunk even lower, and you didn't feel the need to reply.

Bo leaned back in his seat, "Well where's the car at? Lester can tow it over here for ya."

You glanced back at the man behind you, who gave you a confirming nod, and you sighed, "He might not be able to find it."

"Why not?" Bo asked, twirling his pocket knife in his hand.

You reached over to trace the scratches in the wood of the desk, your fingers coming dangerously close to one of the pocket knifes lying there. You slowly lifted your gaze up to Bo, eyes dark.

"It's sinking in the damn swamp somewhere."

There was a long drawn out silence, before Bo laughed so hard his head lolled back. The man behind you...Lester, began to laugh as well, but tried to be a bit more polite about it. If you hadn't been extremely annoyed, you might've noticed that Bo's laugh was very endearing.

"Ah shit," Bo coughed and snickered at you. "Is that why you're drippin' all over my floor?"

You narrowed your eyes, and grumpily leaned onto the desk.

"Look, can you just give us a ride into town please?"

Bo continued to calculatingly stare at you, as if weighing his options.

"I mean, my services ain't free, darlin'."

Normally, you might've been lured in by that southern drawl, as Bo had intended, but you glanced over at your sister. She was tired, hungry, and most likely had blisters on her feet just as bad as your own. The anger on your face melted into concern, and Bo noticed. The two of you shared a look, and you could see the moment that Bo had made up his mind.

With a deep sigh he stood up, and grabbed the car keys on the desk. "Come on then, I ain't got all day."

As he walked out of the building, you grabbed one of the pocket knives on the desk and stuffed it into your pocket...just in case, and then followed him out.

He surprised you by opening the passenger door, waiting for you to get in.

"Didn't realize you were such a gentlemen."

He smirked at you, about to reply when your sister cut in, "I want to sit in the back!"

She was already in the truck bed next to Lester before you could so much as roll your eyes. After you and Bo got into the truck yourselves, he started it up and began driving into town.

"So, what brings ya all the way down here to Ambrose?"

You shrugged, "Just a road trip, we were passing through."

"Yeah, most people do. There ain't much to see down here, 'sides a buncha mosquitos," Bo hummed. "And a wax museum...but it's kinda an eyesore. Definitely overrated."

You hummed in reply

"Do you even get business out here?" you asked curiously.

"You'd be surprised how many people run outta gas, or blow out a tire," Bo glanced at you with a smirk. "Although, I ain't had many people drive straight into the water before. Most people tend to stay on the road, yknow?"

"Fuck you."

Bo's laugh was hearty, and a bit wheezy. You tried to ignore the flip flops your stomach did at hearing it, but a smile still managed to reach your lips.

You stared at the scenery for a while, thinking about all the things you'd have to sort out once you got into town. You'd definitely need some new clothes, and a shower...you were sure you'd begun to smell pretty awful.

"Sorry for getting your truck all gross," you gestured to your damp and sweaty clothes.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. Lester stunk it up long 'fore you got here."

You huffed out a small laugh, catching the way his lip curled when he grinned. You relished in the warm feeling in your stomach upon seeing it, until you glanced out the window and saw that he was pulling into the parking lot of a small restaurant.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry, and I'll bet you and your sister back there are too after all that walkin'," Bo replied, getting out of the truck, walking around to your side to open the door.

"I-"

"You can consider it as your payment for havin' me chauffeur you all over town."

"You drove me ten miles down the road...that's not exactly going all over town," you retorted, folding your arms. "And I don't want to buy you dinner."

Bo just smiled at you, and began to walk into the restaurant, expecting you to follow him. Your sister ran up beside you, droning on about whatever she and Lester had been talking about. Bo stood at the door, holding it open expectantly at you. What were you gonna do? Walk to the nearest hotel? With an angry huff, you shoved past him, sending a scathing look his way. His smirk was smug towards you.

The restaurant was pretty old, but full of people. The food smelled good, at least...and you were hungry.

"Alright, so you grab a tray, and then walk over to that lovely lady behind the counter to tell you what you want-"

"I know how to order," you bit out to Bo, as he leaned away from your ear. He simply smirked at you and then looked back up the menu hanging above the food line.

"Damn, that steak sounds pretty good..."

"Don't you fucking dare," you hissed, earning a glance from your sister. Her eyes flitted between you and Bo, and then she grinned at you. The look you gave her was enough to keep her mouth shut, but her grin spoke paragraphs.

Eventually, the four of you made it through the line. You'd been nervous when Bo ordered, but was relieved when he picked something cheap; reciting it as though he'd done it a thousand times before. You grabbed a cup and swiftly walked over to the drink fountain, filling it with water...since you hadn't had anything to drink in hours. You turned to head to the table you saw Lester and your sister sitting at, only to run straight into Bo and spill water down your already damp front.

"Need me to carry that for ya, sweetheart?" he drawled, eyes lidded.

"No, I've got it," you bit out, rushing away from him as fast as you could.

Sitting down, you picked at your food with your fork. Your stomach felt a bit queasy, just from the entire ordeal you'd been through that day, so you didn't eat much. You focused on sipping your water, instead.

Bo sat down across from you, his legs hitting yours as he stretched them out obnoxiously far. You glared up at him, but he pretended to not notice. When you shoved at his leg, he just smiled at you, and ate a bite of his meal, stretching his legs even farther into your space.

"So, Lester said you had a twin, Bo," your sister said. "Is he as handsome as you?"

Bo snorted, "He wishes."

"Uh...Vince has a...his face 's got a lotta scars," Lester said awkwardly. "He and Bo were conjugated."

"Conjoined, dipshit," Bo barked. "The fucker stole half of the back of my head, and never gave it back."

"He might still be holdin' a grudge, since you got half his face."

Bo turned to Lester, who was failing to hold back a grin, and smacked him upside the head. Lester let out a loud laugh, and you couldn't help but feel a bit amused.

"So, are you the baby brother?" your sister grinned at Lester, who turned red.

"Yeah ma'am, s'pose I am..."

You sipped at your water, making an effort not to guzzle it down.

"Not hungry?" Bo asked, nudging your ankle with his foot.

You looked back down at your food, "Not really...it's been a long day."

Your sister took that as confirmation that she could help herself to it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You felt Bo's eyes on you the entire time, but you tried to ignore him.

Lester spoke to your sister, both of them enjoying each other's company and friendly banter. You could hear them, but your mind didn't process anything they said. You simply continued to sip your water, mentally going over what you would need to do once you were a hotel somewhere.

You were abruptly torn from your thoughts when Bo's boot nudged your foot, aggravating the blisters that had already formed there. You winced and irritatingly looked up at Bo, only to find him leaning back and looking over at Lester. Rolling your eyes you looked away, glancing over at the desserts in the corner. Your eye twitched when you felt his boot touch your foot again, a bit more strongly than before. It wasn't until the fourth time he did it that you finally snapped your head over to glare at him, only to have him get up from the table and walk off. You slumped in your seat grumpily, running your finger along the rim of your cup of water.

You blinked when a piece of pie was set down in front of you.

"Ooh thanks!" your sister exclaimed, when Bo set another piece down in front of her.

You stared at Bo as he sat back down across from you, with his own piece.

"Come on now, don't tell me you ain't got room for dessert, at least?" Bo incredulously remarked, biting into his own.

You huffed, "Not when I'm the one paying for it..."

Bo snorted, "Come on, just eat it 'fore it gets dust on it. If you don't like it, you can have mine."

Sighing, you took a bite of your piece, and found it much more enjoyable than you'd expected.

"Good, ain't it?" Bo smirked, and you resisted the urge to flip him off.

You watched tiredly as your sister devoured her own piece, telling Lester about the gator they'd seen out their window earlier that day. It hadn't been that impressive...a tiny little thing, really, but Lester seemed entranced by the conversation nonetheless. You smiled at a joke he made, when you heard a clinking noise from in front of you. Glancing down, your eyes widened at the sight of Bo quickly snatching his fork, which had snagged a large chunk of your pie, back and shoving it into his mouth.

"Hey!"

"You were lettin' get all nasty!" he defended himself, laughing and wincing as you kicked at his legs.

Your sister was snickering at the two of you, when Bo's phone starting buzzing. He pulled it out, and answered it with a sigh.

"Yeah? No we're fine, we'll be home in a little while," he said. "Yeah sorry...forgot to tell you. Okay, bye."

Bo hung up, and then stood, "Guess we'll have to get a move on. I forgot it's movie night."

"Oh yeah!" Lester exclaimed. "Vince is probably so mad..."

"He'll live," Bo rolled his eyes, heading towards the door.

"Wait...aren't I supposed to pay?" you frowned, confused.

Bo smirked, "Nah, I already paid. Come on."

Your mouth hung open as he walked off, and you couldn't tell if you were relieved or infuriated. Deciding it was the latter, you stormed up to him as he pulled open the door of his truck to let you in. Getting up in his face, you hissed, "You did that all on purpose, you jackass!"

"Sure did," he winked. "What're you gonna do?"

You just huffed at him and crawled into your seat, glaring at him as he shut the door and began to walk to his side. Suddenly struck with an evil idea, you leaned over and locked his door. The smirk on his face fell, and he stared at you through the window.

"The hell are you doin'?"

You flipped him off, earning a fiery glare in response.

"Open the damn door!" he demanded, before sending you a confused smile. "This is my truck!"

You just casually sat on your side, seeing your sister and Lester watch everything unfold from the back window, and smirked at him.

He tugged harshly on the door handle, jiggling it as if that would magically unlock it, "If you don't open this door, I'm gonna call the cops!"

You rolled your eyes, "You've got keys dumbass."

Bo froze, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. You could hear Lester howl in laughter, and Bo yelling at him to shut up. He practically slammed the door shut behind him as he got in, turning to give you a scathing glare.

"...Where to, sweetheart?" he bit out lowly, his eyes burning.

"Hotel please," you replied with a smile.

He started the engine and then began the short drive into town, sending you angry glances every so often.

"Don't be like that," you grinned. "I was just getting even."

He just fumed in embarrassed silence, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. You frowned, realizing he'd gotten much angrier than you'd expected.

"I'm sorry, I was just messing with you," you sighed. "Thanks for giving my sister and I a ride...you didn't have to."

He grunted in affirmation, his grip loosening a bit.

"And for putting up with how bad I must smell."

At that, Bo let out a soft laugh, "Nah, I've smelled worse, trust me."

The rest of the car ride was comfortably silent, with the two of you occasionally making eye contact with each other. Soon, a hotel came into view, and you tried to ignore the feeling of disappointment in your chest. It only grew heavier as he pulled into the parking lot there.

"Well, here ya are," he said, not looking at you.

"Thank you," you assured him, opening the door to get out.

You paused, reaching into your pocket to pull out the knife, and held it out to him.

"Is that...did you snag one of my knives?" he asked with a laugh, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah..." you mumbled. "Sorry I just..."

"You're smarter than I thought. You keep it," he chuckled, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes, and shoved it back towards you. "Somethin' to remember me by. Besides, you know where I'm at if you ever wanna look at this handsome face again."

The heaviness in your stomach lifted at that realization, and you smiled at him. Leaning over, you gave him a kiss on the cheek, to which he stiffened and stared at you in surprise.

"I'll see you around, Bo," you said, getting out of the truck.

He nodded, beet red and adjusting the collar of his shirt, while Lester climbed into the passenger seat.

"Y'all be safe," Lester said with a smile.

You and your sister waved at them as they drove off, a bit sad when they finally disappeared down the road.

Your sister nudged you in the side, "You're welcome."

"For what?"

"Wrecking the car," she grinned. "If it weren't for me, you would never have met Mr. Handsome."

You kicked at her shins, "Shut up."

"We're goin' to see them again tomorrow, right?"

"Of course."

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet ugly asks, 18 with the ot4? nsfw, if possible? thanks

Here you go! It is indeed NSFW.

18: we were just introduced at a party by our mutual friend and when my partner comes to join us, you freak out because you were just outside making out with them and you pull me aside to tell me

“Duck! Over here!” Aubrey waves him through the crowd, pointing to the lumberjack lookalike next to her, “this is the guy I was telling you about. Barclay’s an old friend of Dani's and, get this, he and Indrid know each other too. Wait, where is mr. mothman?” Aubrey cranes her neck.

“He had to work a late shift, but he says hi. Literally” He fumbles his phone, “fuck, sorry, first thing to go when I’ve been drinkin is my coordination.” He eventually triumphs, showing them the photo of Indrid, silver hair tied back and Void the Rat perched on the sleeve of his ‘Waffle House’ shirt. The sticker on the photo says “Hi!”

“Aww” Barclay’s voice is the epitome of gentle giant, “he always wanted a rat. I’m glad he got one.”

“Whelp, now that I got you two talking, I’m gonna go spend some ‘quality time’ with my girlfriend.”

“Just don't get caught makin’ out in a closet again.” Duck calls. Aubrey flips him off with a smile.

“So how did you and Indrid--oh, there you are babe. Thought you mighta snuck out to take a work call.”

“No, just had to de-escalate a shoving match on the back porch. I know you love Jake, but maybe next time we should just have him over rather than coming to the kind of party we outgrew in undergrad. I’m discovering I don’t enjoy being under the influence in this kind of cramped party anymore."

“Yeah, not really loving the noise. I lose my voice enough in the kitchen. Duck, this is my boyfriend, Joseph. Joseph, this is Duck, he’s a friend of Dani and Aubrey’s.”

Duck crunches his cup as his mind takes a violent spin an hour into the past.

He’d been out on the side deck getting some air and sipping his beer when a guy who looks like he walked in from the set of some splashy T.V show where everyone is hot joined him. His lips looked damn good whenever he sipped his beer and Duck did his best to turn on the southern charm. It was sort of working, until he complimented the guys button up; it was covered in drawings of cryptids--including mothman, Indrid’s favorite--and fit him in the way that made Duck want to rip the buttons off with his teeth. As soon as he demonstrated his enjoyment of listening to a hot guy talk about monsters, the taller man moved gradually closer, bumping shoulders and locking eyes with growing boldness. When Duck said the song booming out of the house was his go-to for putting the moves on someone, the other man asked to see his technique.

They spent the next three songs in the darkest corner of the porch, Duck’s back pressing into metal slats as his new friend wove his fingers into his hair and teased their tongues together with an experts touch.

When Duck breathlessly asked if he wanted to go somewhere more private, he murmured, “Only after we’ve had a chance to talk about some things.”

Then his phone buzzed and he was gone, leaving Duck horny and tipsy under the stars.

Back in the present, he does everything possible to keep from meeting Joseph’s eyes as he mumbles, “I, uh, I, I need some help with somethin in the kitchen? Fuck, yeah, kitchen, Barclay can you come help?”

“Sure. Be right back, babe.”

The kitchen is packed with people doing ill-advised things with drinks, so Duck keeps Barclay in the hall as he whispers, “Man, I, I’m so fuckin sorry but I gotta say somethin’. Joe and I, we, uh, we already met.”

“Makes sense, he’s been in town a year. I just got here.”

“That ain’t the kind of meetin I mean. We got a little, uh, friendly on the porch tonight.”

Barclay gives an “ah” of understanding. Then he chuckles, “thought he looked a little ruffled when he passed me earlier.”

“I’m real fuckin sorry, I didn’t know. ‘Drid and I got an, an agreement, but I shoulda checked to see if he was datin someone.”

“That would have been smart.” Joe appears at Barclay’s shoulder, “but that’s why I said we needed to talk before we did anything else.” He strokes Barclay’s beard, “you and Indrid aren’t the only ones with an open relationship of sorts.”

“Ohthankfuck.” Duck slumps against the wall.

“While I was making sure no one made a punch that could give them alcohol poisoning, you were getting hot and heavy? That’s not fair, babe.” Barclay teases.

“I’ll make it up to you, big guy. Are you safe to drive?”

“Gonna give it another half-hour, just to be safe. You need a ride home, Duck?”

“Uh, sure, that’d be great.”

Soon, he’s bundled in the back of a Subaru, Joe sitting beside him while Barclay navigates through Saturday night traffic. They luck out; the game ran long, so they’re not fighting the throng coming out of the football stadium. When they reach his apartment, Joe stops him and hands Duck his phone. Duck didn’t even feel him take it in the first place. As he waves goodnight, he spots a new number sitting in his contacts and smiles.

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

“...the point is, it amuses me that Joseph shares my taste in me.” Indrid sips his white chocolate mocha, then yawns wide enough for Barclay to spot his tongue piercing, “apologies, I didn’t get to bed until three.”

“Jesus, man, gonna tell Duck to start knocking you out.”

“I was working on commissions.”

Barclay gives him a disbelieving look.

“....I was working on commissions until midnight. Then I spent three hours watching videos on the finer points of home entomology.”

“There it is. You can’t fool me, I remember what you were like at sleepovers.”

“It was very important to read every single Eyewitness book your parents generously bought you.” Indrid takes another sip with an imperious tilt of his head.

Barclay bumps his unoccupied hand, “It’s so fucking nice to see you again.”

Indrid looks at him over his glasses, brown eyes as beautiful as they were when he was sixteen, “Likewise. Oh!” He perks up, “do you know what this means? We can have a double-date! I’ve always wanted to try that.”

“Sure Joseph will be into it; he has a spreadsheet of optimal date locations. Bet he’ll have fun making one for double-dates.”

“That is...exceptionally geeky.”

Barclay sends a love-struck smile into his coffee cup, “Yeah, he is.”

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

Joe is more diabolical than Duck gave him credit for. And he thought he was pretty fucking cunning after he suggest seeing the local hockey team; the chilly arena gave Indrid and excuse to cuddle up to anyone who held still for too long and gave Joe plenty of opportunities to make double entendres about sticks in Duck’s ear.

But a night out at “Woofs” AKA the kind of gay bar where Duck and Barclay get hit on constantly is a whole new level of torment. Especially because Indrid hangs off Duck proudly (when he’s not teasing Barclay for the number of free drinks he’s getting) and Joseph even asks him to dance. When he peeks over the taller man’s shoulder, he sees Barclay resting his hand on Indrid’s arm while whispering something that makes him grin.

Dancing really is the most fitting thing he could be doing, because it’s what all four of them have chosen to do about this; dance around the fact that Indrid and Barclay dated, dance around the fact Joe and Duck kissed, danced around the fact that they’re more or less acting like a polycule already.

“Oh no.” Joe mutters, eyes on the door, “things are about to get loud.”

Duck’s about to point out that the club is already loud when he’s pulled out of the path of not one, but two bachelorette parties. They opt to stay, although Barclay gets hit on by someone who doesn’t believe he’s gay. Joe takes him onto the floor for a slow dance while Duck steps into the bathroom. When he comes out, his boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

“You guys seen ‘Drid?”

Joe shakes his head, all three of them already moving for the door. They find Indrid across the street on a bench, hunched over and tapping on his knees.

“‘Drid?” Duck sits gently beside him, “you get overwhelmed?”

Indrid nods.

“You wanna head home?”

Another nod. Duck suspects the overstimulation spiked without warning, which usually means…

“You need to be nonverbal for a bit?”

This time Indrid looks at him when he nods, then cringes when he sees Joe and Barclay are watching.

“Our place is closer.” Joe offers, copying Duck’s tone, “we can all bus back there so you can be somewhere quiet. Or, um, if you need it to just be you two, that’s fine too.”

Indrid holds up a finger, indicating option one. Duck helps him up and let’s him stay hidden against his shoulder while they wait for the bus.

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

This used to terrify Barclay. He and Indrid would be hanging out, would be stealthily holding hands in the top row of the football stadium, and his boyfriend would shut down. Barclay, sensing distress, would try to figure out what was wrong, would start to panic when Indrid couldn’t communicate the things happening in his mind and body. They had more than one fight where his attempts to help only made Indrid more overstimulated to the point he snapped at him to fuck off (and, on one occasion, hissed at him).

They worked it out eventually, Barclay keeping a mental list of things that soothed his friend. Watching Duck do some of them, how calm and loving he was, makes something complex bloom in his chest, as vibrant and beautiful as the Dahlias Duck brought them from the garden (“weather’s been so fuckin weird things are bloomin when they shouldn’t”).

When they make it home, Duck stops in the living room and looks between Indrid and Barclay for a moment. Then he murmurs, “‘Drid, you want Barclay to keep you company for a bit?”

Indrid smiles and nods, takes Barclay’s hand and follows him to the bedroom. He lets his memories drive, keeps the light off, arranges his body so Indrid can relax against him, and pets his hair with slow, light motions. His friend hums, meaning he’s on the right track. As he strokes his head he notices the black roots peeking through the silver; it was jarring to see Indrid with pale hair when all his memories were of dark locks of it falling over his face or catching on Barclays hands.

He looks good with the silver. More like himself.

Metal pokes his chest. He takes the glasses Indrid hands him, sets them on Joseph’s stack of library books, then gives a startled, “nnfph” as his friend pulls Barclay on top of him.

“Like the weight” Indrid mumbles, wrapping his arms around him. The longer they lay there, the easier it is to overhear the conversation in the other room.

“I feel awful, if I’d known I’d have never recommended we go somewhere like a loud bar.”

“S’okay, Joe. ‘Drid is still a little wary of tellin people that’s something he has to consider when goin’ out; Dani and them get it, but other folks think he’s bein’ a buzzkill.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re tellin me. Besides, sometimes it comes up so fast, or happens in places he ain’t anticipatin it. He’ll be okay, especially with Barclay takin’ care of him.”

A pause, then, “Do you need someone to, um, take care of you?”

“Joe-”

“It’s alright if the answer is no. But part of my plan was to get everyone in a, um, bit of a frisky mood.”

A snicker, “Frisky?”

“I was trying not to be too crude.”

“Joe, you know how I feel about you. But we gotta check with the others to be sure everythin is on the level.”

“Tell them to come in.” Indrid whispers, a smile plain in his voice.

“Uh, babe? Could you and Duck come in here a sec?”

“Everythin oka--ffft” Duck snorts a laugh, “guess he improvised not havin a weighted blanket.”

“That I did.”

Duck bursts into a grin, hurrying to settle on the bed near Indrid’s head, “Hey, sugar. How you feelin’?”

“Much better. It helps that this one is very soothing.” He toys with Barclay’s hair, sending goosebumps up his arms, “though it seems he had a slighty different reaction to our contact.”

Barclay was so distracted by the conversation that he hadn’t realized his cock was hardening along the familiar warmth of Indrid’s thigh whenever one of them shifted.

“Fuck, Indrid, I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright. In fact, it is rather relevant to what you two were discussing in the hall. Am I correct that we all wish to be in some form of polyamorous relationship with each other?”

“Yes” say two voices along with his own.

“Wonderful. I suggest we hash out details later. Right now, it seems you two have, ah, unfinished business.”

“Fuckin finallyAH” Duck cackles as Joseph knocks him backwards, kissing him frantically while yanking up his shirt. As soon as his belly is exposed Joseph begins pawing and groping from there up his sides. Indrid nudges Barclay so they can sit up, allowing the other two more room to disrobe. Or, more accurately, for Joseph to disrobe both himself and Duck, since the shorter man is having trouble moving his limbs between bursts of laughter and moaning.

Joseph crawls backwards, shoving Duck’s legs apart and groping his thighs, “I’ve wanted to get my hands on these since the party. Lord almighty did you look good in those jeans.” He kisses his way up the left thigh, moaning and mouthing at the skin. His posture puts his perfect ass in the air, which happens to be one of Barclay’s favorite views in the whole world. He unzips his pants, fights to get his cock out as Indrid begins offering commentary from beside him.

“Mmmm, were I not still rather exhausted, I’d make him do that to us both.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t move his mouth from where it’s teasing Duck’s inner thigh.

“Know you would.” He reaches down to play with Joseph’s hair, “‘Drid’s got a whole fantasy where you blow him while I sit on his face.”

“Funny” Barclay’s voice is turning rough with desire,“he’s got one where he takes all three of us at once.”

Joseph’s face lacks any trace of self-consciousness, a rare thing for him, which means this whole arrangement is fucking brilliant. He simply nods, then takes Duck’s dick into his mouth.

“JEsus, fuck, Joe, ohfuckyeah.” Duck holds Joseph’s head encouragingly, “shoulda known you’d be good at this, you’re so fuckin good at everythin, fuck, fuck.”

Barclay grips his cock, trying to stroke in time with movements of Joseph’s head. Slender fingers carefully push his aside as Indrid purrs, “allow me.”

“You, you don’t have to, you said you were tired-”

“Not too tired for this” he strokes up more firmly, then brushes their lips together, “or this.”

It’s like tasting Hershey Chocolate or Marionberry Pie, transporting him back to their shitty hometown in Eastern Oregon, to summer heat on his skin and basement air in his nose as Indrid proved that yes, kissing boys was what he wanted to do.

Indrid’s certainly gotten better at it since then. Barclay likes to think he has, hopes the other man is feeling even half the things currently piling up in Barclay’s chest.

“Oh.” Indrid sighs as he pulls back, “that’s even better than I remember.”

A particularly loud moan from Joseph, underscored by Duck cursing happily, brings them back to the present.

Barclay moans as Indrid’s hand moves more deliberately.

“Do you remember the first time we did this?”

“Uh huh, c-couch, in that, fuck, that basement rec room at my house.”

“You came so fast.”

“Can’t really blame me.”

“Given the sounds he’s making, he might do the same thing now.” Joseph smiles at them from over Duck’s knee, “that’s one of the best things about you. You’re so sensitive, big guy.”

Barclay whines his name. His boyfriend winks, then dives back down to render Duck speechless.

“You really are” Indrid nips his ear, “remember when we, ah, lost it to each other?”

“Mmmhmm” he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut as if that might make all this last longer. Joseph echoes the noise, making Duck groan.

“Just picture it, Joseph” Indrid is getting into it now, panting and pink-cheeked, “Barclay, eighteen and even shyer than he is now, in my lap, begging me to fuck him.”

‘I, I wasn’t the only one begging.” He grins.

“Of course not. I was desperate to get to it because just seeing you naked had me certain I was going to--one moment” he releases Barclay’s cock, ignoring his whimper to clamber into a position that allows him to kiss Duck as the shorter man grinds into Joseph’s mouth. He doesn’t pull back until Duck’s hips slow and Joseph is busy wiping his lips.

“I can never resist kissing you while you cum.”

“Fuck I love you.” Duck cups Indrid’s cheek. The silver haired man rubs against his palm a moment, then retreats. Duck growls at Joseph, “as for you, you got ten seconds to open your legs so I can show you a good time.”

“So thoughtful” Indrid pecks his cheek, returns to Barclay, “now, where was I…”

“Shy, AHshit, fuckingchristthat’s good.” Joseph’s legs sprawl open as Duck finger-fucks him, sitting on his side to kiss him without obstructing Barclay’s view.

“Ah yes.” He kisses Barclays neck, hand teasing the head of his cock, “you insisted on bottoming because you were so scared you might hurt me. I can still see it, you on your hands and knees, asking me to take you--those were your exact words--then whimpering when I finally got my cock in.”

“Fuck” Joseph is clearly enjoying the story; if Barclay had known he was into this, he would have made all his exes record voicemails describing their exploits.

“If memory serves I came very fast, because you were so much tighter than I expected and you, you felt so good. I used my hands to get you off-”

“Uh huh, fuck, you hadn’t pulled out yet and it was so fucking good, fuck, Indrid-”

“You made such cute noises when you came” a slow, deep kiss as heat floods him, “I wonder if you’ll do the same now.”

“Probably” is all he grunts out before he’s cumming hard enough that most of it hits Joseph’s stomach rather than Indrid’s fingers. His head lolls as his cock pulses, and beneath his own heartbeat he picks up Duck ordering Joseph to be good and cum for him. After a moment, there’s the distinct moan his boyfriend makes during his climax. It’s followed, confusingly, by weak laughter. His eyes flutter open to see Indrid licking his cum off Joseph’s chest, which happens to be ticklish.

He scoots over to join them, Joseph kissing him sleepily the instant he’s close enough.

“You sure you don’t need to cum, sugar?”

“I’m only half-hard, and I know I’m too tired to make it the rest of the way. Not that this wasn’t supremely satisfying. But you each owe me an orgasm sometime in the future.”

“All in favor of blowin ‘Drids mind tomorrow mornin’”

He and the other two raise their hands in sync. Then the four of them collapse, laughing, in each others arms.