#we heard a loud whack

[frenchbreadandeggs]

JIN ENJOJI X READER | non-consensual clothing removal. implied assault. slight manga spoilers about Jiji. 3.4k wc

“Wanna go out and stargaze?” That’s what Jiji said before the both of you were chased down by blood sucking aliens. “I’m never going out stargazing with you again!” you screamed at his ear as the both of you ran away from the aliens. “I’m sorryyy!”

“Hey, gimme that crab leg!” Momo yelled, as she tried to take a plate from grandma Seiko.

“Quit it kid, I paid for this!”

The two brawled at the table, leaving you, Okarun and Turbo Granny trying to eat peacefully.

Okarun let out a sight, glancing between Momo and Grandma Seiko as they wrestled over the crab leg. Plates clattered and the table shook under the petty chaos but neither of them showed any sign of backing down.

“You guys do this every time,” Okarun muttered, shaking his head as he poked his food. “Can’t we have a normal meal?”

You could only shake your head, while Turbo Granny cackled beside him, already halfway through a plate stacked high with food for a small lucky cat. “Let ‘em fight! Adds flavor to the meal!” she said, her sharp toothy grin stretching wide as she shoved more food into her mouth.

Momo finally managed to grab the crab leg, only for Seiko to counter by whacking her on the head with her hand.

“Ow! That’s dirty fighting!” Momo protested, rubbing her head.

“All’s fair in love and seafood!” Seiko shot back, snatching the crab leg back on triumph. “This is mine!”

Okarun sighed, again, pushing his plate away. “I’m starting to think I should’ve stayed home.”

“Momo, you can take my crab leg instead.” you pushed your plate towards her, her eyes shined like stars as she hugged you.

“My only loving cousin who is blood related to me actually cares for me, unlike that hag over there!”

“Who you sayin’ hag, huh?!”

“Ow ow ow! My ear!”

Both of them started bickering again, you could only give Okarun a small apology for seeing your family like this. He shyly waved it off, taking his food again and continued eating again. Before you could take a bite of your food, you heard a knock on the door. You quietly excused yourself as the both still brawled as you walked towards the door to see who’s outside at this hour. Opening it, you were greeted by a familiar face.

“Hello, kawaii-chan!” Jiji greeted you with a smile.

“Jiji! Why are you out here at this hour?” you asked, surprised by his visit.

He took something from his back and showed a plastic bag.

“Mom asked me to give this to your aunt—”

“Grandma.”

“G-grandma, she made too many and we couldn’t finish it with just the three of us so we got the extras for you!”

You gratefully took the plastic bag from Jiji, “Do you want to come in?”

“Uhhh actually… I wanna ask you if you wanna stargaze, tonight.” he looked away, pink blush coloring his cheeks. But you somehow didn’t notice.

“Oh, sure! I’ll put this inside and change—”

“But your clothes are decent enough though,” Jiji interrupted, pointing at your uniform.

He wasn’t wrong. You’re still in your school uniform since you usually eat first before changing into pajamas.

You shrugged, “Sure, I’ll tell Granny that I’ll go out.”

You offered Jiji to enter the house even joining in the dining area with the four but he politely refused. 

Upon entering the dining room, the scene hadn’t changed much. Momo and Seiko were still bickering, their voices loud enough to echo through the house. Okarun however, was now unconscious on the floor with a bump on his head and Turbo Granny laughing.

You sighed, shaking your head as you placed the bag on the table, “Oi, I’ll be going out with Jiji tonight. Don’t do anything weird at this house.”

Before they could even give you a response, you’ve already left.

“That was quick.” Jiji said as you were putting your shoes on.

“Nah, they were fighting over a crab leg so I just told them I’m going out with you and left.” you responded, taking a step outside the house.

“So, where are we goin’?”

The cliff overlooked Kamikoshi City, the entire landscape spread out beneath you like a glowing painting. The city lights sparkled across the skyline, casting a soft glow over the distant buildings and streets. Each flicker and glimmer seemed to pulse with life, creating a breathtaking view that drew a gasp from you.

“This is… amazing,” you murmured, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin. The vastness of it all, the contrast between the peaceful night sky and the bustling city below, was overwhelming in the best way.

Jiji stood beside you, hands in his pockets, smiling at your reaction. “Yeah, I thought you’d like it,” he said, before stepping closer.

He then placed his hand on your head, tilting it upward. “But look at this,” he added. Above, the stars twinkled like tiny diamonds scattered across the midnight sky, their light seemingly to pulse with an ethereal glow. 

The sight was mesmerizing, the stars stretching endlessly into the distance. “Holy shit…” you whispered, captivated by the beauty of the midnight sky.

Jiji chuckled softly beside you, lowering his hand. “Told you.”

As your eyes glued at the sky, Jiji cleared his throat. “Uh, I have something to say to you,” he mumbled.

“Hm?” You pulled your gaze away from the sky, turning to face him. The sight that greeted you was unexpected—Jiji’s face was flushed a deep red, like he’d just stepped out of a sauna. His usual carefree demeanor was replaced with visible tension, and he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s up?”

Jiji fidgeted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… uh…” He trailed off, his nervousness intensifying. His usual confidence seemed to evaporate in the cool night air, leaving him at a loss for words.

“Jiji—”

You paused mid-sentence, your heart suddenly racing as you caught sight of something lurking behind Jiji. A faint, blue glow flickered in the shadows of the trees, two piercing eyes that seemed to watch you intently.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you instinctively took a step back, feeling a chill run down your spine. He turned, following your gaze, and his expression shifted from confusion to alarm as he spotted the glowing eyes.

“What the hell is that?” Jiji muttered, his flusterness momentarily vanishing.

The eyes narrowed, and you could feel a sense of dread creeping closer. Whatever it was, it wasn’t friendly. You instinctively moved closer to Jij.

He felt you draw closer. Without thinking, he turned and pulled you behind him, his grip firm as he shielded you with his body. His grip on you never loosened.

Before either of you could react, a long, metallic tentacle shot out from the shadows, wrapping around your ankle. Panic surged through you as it yanked you off your feet, dragging you towards the darkness of the trees.

“Hey! No!” Jiji shouted, instinctively lunging forward but the distance was too great.

You clawed at the dirt, desperate not to be dragged into the unknown. While you were being dragged, you saw a branch. Quickly taking it, you then jabbed it to the tentacle resulting in letting you go.

Footsteps quickly went up to you and held both of your arms and helped you stand up to your feet.

Jiji huffed, “We need to get out of here—”

Before he could finish his sentence, another tentacle shot out from the shadows, snaking around his waist and lifting him off the ground. He let out a startled gasp, eyes wide with shock as he dangled helplessly in the air.

“Jiji!” you screamed, your heart racing as panic surged through you. You reached out instinctively, but the distance between you felt overwhelming.

As the creature stepped out of the shadows, your breath caught in your throat. It was a metallic alien, its body shimmering under the faint moonlight, revealing a sleek, elongated form covered in glinting scales. Its eyes glowed with a menacing blue light, illuminating its sharp, angular features.

“Foolish humans,” it spoke, its voice echoing unnaturally, reverberating in the still night air. “I need female blood to sustain myself… and a male genital. How lucky I am.”

“What’s with you aliens and private parts!” you shouted.

“Power,” it responded wickedly, sending shivers down your spine. “Now shut up, this won’t hurt.”

Before you could react, it lunged another tentacle toward you. It was too fast, ensnaring both of your arms and lifting you off the ground. You gasped, feeling the grip tighten around you like a vise.

Jiji's eyes widened in horror as he struggled against his own restraints. “Let her go!” he shouted with desperation, his voice breaking through the tension in the air.

The metallic alien turned its glowing gaze toward him, its expression unreadable but its intent clear. “Silence!” it hissed, the tentacles around you tightening as it drew you closer to its maw, the cold metal brushing against your skin.

As it drew nearer, the alien grumbled, “Your clothes are useless; the more skin exposed, the more places I can draw blood.”

With a swift motion, it tore the top of your uniform, leaving you exposed down to your bra. You gasped, horror and anger washing over you. “My uniform!” you shouted, kicking your legs frantically in a desperate attempt to break free. “You perv! That cost my week’s allowance!”

The alien’s glowing eyes narrowed, its metallic form looming over you with a chilling satisfaction. “Do not concern yourself with such trivial matters. Your pain will only serve to nourish me.”

“Shut up!” you spat back, anger rising within you. “You think you can just take whatever you want? I won’t let you!”

The alien ignored your words as it revealed more tentacles at its back, shutting you up in the process. This is it, it is your end.

You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the pain you feared would come. Instead, to your shock, the alien released its grip on your arms, and you fell into someone’s waiting embrace.

“Gotcha!” came a familiar voice, warm and reassuring. You opened your eyes to see Jiji holding you securely in his arms.

“Jiji?! How—”

“I trained under your aun— I mean your grandma without needing the evil eye!” he declared, a grin breaking through the tension as he tightened his grip on you.

You remembered he did train under Granny Seiko. You looked at the side where the unconscious alien was and saw the ground dented.

Before you could speak, a blast cut you off not far from your position. You froze, heart racing as a UFO descended from the sky, its tentacles swaying ominously at its sides. To your horror, more aliens—similar to the one that had attacked you both—poured out of the craft, their glowing eyes scanning the area as they began to advance.

“We need to run! WE NEED TO RUN!” you screamed, adrenaline surging through you. You jumped out of Jiji’s arms and grabbed his hand, yanking him into a sprint.

The two of you dashed through the underbrush, branches whipping against your skin as you navigated the chaotic terrain. The sounds of the aliens behind you echoed in the night air, their guttural growls mixing with the rustle of leaves and the pounding of your heart.

You were now being chased by blood sucking aliens.

“I’m never going out stargazing with you again!” you screamed at his ear as the both of you ran away from the aliens.

“I’m sorryyy!” he cried out loud.

Jiji’s legs burned as he pushed himself to keep pace with you, heart racing more from fear than the sprint itself. “How was I supposed to know they’d come out of nowhere?” he wailed, his voice cracking as another alien screeched behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see one of the blood-sucking aliens close in, its grotesque, tentacles stretching unnaturally fast. “Less talking, more running!” you yelled, grabbing Jiji’s arm to yank him forward as he tripped over a rock.

“I really didn’t mean for this to happen,” he huffed, his breath ragged from the frantic sprint. “I just wanted us to have a chill night, look at the stars, maybe talk about—”

A sharp, hissing sound interrupted his apology as another alien leaped from a nearby tree, its glowing blue eyes locking onto both of you.

“Save it for after we survive!” you barked, dragging him down to the road you both took when you hiked to the cliff. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins as the aliens screeched louder, closing in from every direction.

Jiji stumbled again, nearly pulling you down with him. “Why do these things always happen when we hang out?!”

“I don’t know! But maybe we should stop hanging out!” you yelled, half-joking as you pushed yourself harder. Your legs burned, but the fear of those creatures fueled you.

A blast of energy hit the ground beside you, sending dirt and debris into the air. You barely dodged it, pulling Jiji out of harm's way. The cliff edge loomed nearby, but there was no time to admire the view.

“We need a plan!” Jiji shouted, glancing back at the approaching aliens. “We can’t outrun them forever!”

“You can do that laser beam shit right?!” you said, “I haven’t fully controlled my powers unlike Momo but I can push them into one line and you can blast them!”

Jiji's eyes widened as he stumbled, nearly tripping over a branch in his shock. “W-What?! I haven’t exactly mastered that yet!”

“We don’t have a choice!” you interrupted, yanking him back on track. “I’ll line them up. Just focus!”

The screeches from the aliens were growing louder, closer. You could practically feel their cold, metallic presence nipping at your heels.

“Alright,” Jiji huffed, swallowing his fear. “But if we die, I’m blaming you!”

You threw him a sharp look, “Just concentrate!”

Gathering your breath, you dug deep into your energy reserves, feeling a familiar warmth surge through your veins. You pivoted, locking your focus on the swarm of aliens behind you. With a fierce shove of your hand, you forced the air around them to compress, pushing them into a tight line like bowling pins. They writhed and screeched in response, tentacles flailing in resistance, but you held them there, your heart pounding from the strain.

“Now, Jiji!” you yelled, sweat beading down your forehead.

Jiji planted his feet, his expression grim as he raised his trembling hands toward the creatures. The familiar energy crackled around his palms, flickering uncertainty. For a second, you thought it wouldn’t work, but then—

A beam of bright energy shot from his palms, exploding into the air with a deafening roar. The blast surged forward, striking the trapped aliens and sending a shockwave that lit up the entire forest.

When the dust settled, the screeching had stopped. Only silence remained.

Jiji, breathless and wide-eyed, turned to you, a mix of awe and disbelief on his face. “Did… did that really just work?”

You exhaled heavily, releasing the tension in your body as you slumped down on a nearby rock. “Barely,” you muttered, staring at the smoking crater where the aliens once stood. "But we’re alive, so I’ll take it."

Jiji collapsed beside you, laughing weakly. “I need a nap.”

“Hey,” you raised the upper part of your body and faced him, “We need to go home first.”

He looked at you, then his eyes looked down. There was this unexplainable reaction from him as his face turned red again and looked away.

“Huh? What’s the matter?”

“You don’t have a top on…”

Your eyes widened as you followed Jiji’s gaze, realizing that your torn uniform had been left in shambles from the earlier attack. Heat flooded your cheeks as you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest.

“J-Jiji!” you sputtered, glaring at him as you quickly tried to cover yourself. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?!”

“I—I didn’t want to make it weird!” Jiji stammered, his face a deep shade of red as he kept his eyes firmly averted, staring intently at a nearby rock. “I mean, we were fighting for our lives! There wasn’t really time to—”

“Ugh, just—turn around or something!” you snapped, completely mortified.

Jiji awkwardly spun on his heel, back facing you as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, right! Sorry, my bad!”

You groaned in frustration but couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up despite the embarrassment. “This has officially been the weirdest night ever.”

“Agreed,” Jiji muttered, still bright red. “Here,” he draped his jacket over you.

You blinked in surprise as Jiji draped his jacket over your shoulders, the fabric still warm from his body.

“Thanks,” you muttered, pulling it tighter around yourself. The jacket was oversized on you, the sleeves dangling past your hands, but it was much better than nothing.

Jiji rubbed the back of his neck again, his usual energy replaced by an awkward tension. “No problem. I, uh, didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You nodded, you then remembered something. “Oh yeah, you wanted to say something?” you said, looking up to him.

Jiji froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as if he had forgotten all about what he had planned to say. His face turned red, again, and avoided eye contact, glancing everywhere except at you.

“Uh… yeah,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head nervously. “I… I wanted to tell you something earlier, before, you know—” he gestured vaguely at the destroyed cliffside and the direction the aliens had fled.

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Before the aliens attacked?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, taking a deep breath as if he were trying to summon all of his courage. “I just... I didn’t get the chance because of all the chaos, but I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now.”

You waited, your heart pounding slightly. “Tell me what?”

Jiji glanced at you briefly, then quickly looked away again. “I… I like you,” he finally blurted out, his voice rushed but genuine. “Like, more than just friends.”

“It’s almost midnight, where the hell is she?” Momo grunted, worry laced in her annoyed voice. “She haven’t exactly mas—”

A knock on the door cut Momo off, she hurriedly ran to the door and opened. Momo's eyes widened at the sight of you standing there, wrapped in Jiji’s oversized jacket, while Jiji stood awkwardly behind you, shirtless and looking very out of place. Her mouth hung open for a second, taking in the bizarre scene before her.

“What the—?” Momo blurted, her annoyance quickly shifting to shock. “Where the hell have you two been?!” she then looked at Jiji,  “And why are you half-naked?!”

You were too tired to speak, but you forced yourself anyway. “Long story… involving aliens. Again.”

Jiji scratched the back of his head, clearly embarrassed. “I can explain, but it’s not what it looks like!”

Momo crossed her arms, her expression a mix of disbelief and concern. “You’d better explain fast, because this is getting ridiculous.”

You pushed your cousin inside the house, “We’ll do that tomorrow, it’s super late.”

“Okay fine,” Momo huffed, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

As Momo disappeared into the house, you turned back to Jiji, exhaustion weighing on your shoulders. The events of the night were still catching up to you, and it felt like you could collapse at any moment.

Jiji shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, his face still slightly flushed. “So… would you still stargaze with me?” he said with a weak chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

“Of course, though the place should not be reeking of spirits and aliens.” you replied, putting your hands inside his borrowed jacket.

Jiji gave a soft smile, “No aliens and spirits, noted.”

“Yeah,” you replied, letting out a small, tired laugh. “Let’s save that for a less eventful night.”

For a moment, you both stood in the quiet hallway, the weight of the night hanging between you.

“Get some rest,” he finally said, his voice soft. “I’ll head home before your grandma decides I’m staying the night.” He offered a small, playful smile, but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” You gave him a tired nod, then glanced toward the door. “Thanks again, Jiji. For… everything.”

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, smiling a little brighter. “You don’t have to thank me. You’re my… friend.” His voice faltered at the last word, and for a split second, something more flickered in his eyes before he quickly turned and headed toward the door.

As he opened it, a gust of cool night air swept in. “Goodnight,” he said, throwing a final wave over his shoulder before stepping outside.

You stood there for a moment longer, staring at the now-closed door, a strange mix of relief, exhaustion, and something unspoken settling in your chest.

“Hey, Jiji.”

“Yeah?”

“I like you too.”

[xxblairexxss]

Pick me up (Part 1)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

Charles got a call from Monaco prison and he wished you took it more seriously.

I had this in my draft for quite a while so I guess I should share it with you guys because I think it’s adorable!

✧.* tags! @i83andrew @cltrlne

“Is it recording?” You took a step back and accidentally hit your hind foot against the leg of the armchair. “Oh my god. Wait, let me sit first.” You plonked yourself on the mint coloured seat and brought your hair up to tie it into a messy bun.

The sound of a dial tone resounded from your phone. You had enabled the loud speaker once the call was connected to the number you had clicked. “I’m so nervous!” You covered your grin and whispered to the other phone that was propped up against your mirror and was recording, the time at the top end of the screen started calculating every seconds.

“Hello…?”

“Oh!” Your mouth formed an ‘O’ as you quickly pressed on the space button. “Hello, this is a collect call from the Remand Prison of Monaco for inmate Y/N Y/L/N.” Came on the text-to-speech voice from your laptop that you had set aside.

“What the heck?!” You heard Charles’s voice went louder into the phone as he cleared his throat after.

You clicked on a different tab and pressed on the spacebar key again. “Say yes if you would like to accept this call.”

“Yes, please.”

“Baby!” You cried out.

“Honey, what the fuck is going on?” You had a hard time to control your giggle hearing how tensed he was.

You sighed. “I–I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“Can you come pick me up?” You faked a wept and quickly covered your mouth to bury your smile, as if he could see your face.

“How did you get arrested?” You could hear he was getting stressed and then came a soft sound of a door being closed. You were so sure he had segregated himself because his voice was louder this time.

You held your tongue, trying to make it looked as if you were having trouble to talk from heavy crying. “I told you I was going to go to Starbucks, right?”

“Yeah? And did you get possessed or something?”

“No! I found this cute mug and this old lady tried to steal it from my hand so I whacked her in the head.”

He breathed out and you knew he was trying to calm himself down so there was only silence in the air for a few seconds. “You….beat an old lady for a mug? Honey….” The tone of his voice changed from fretted to full of disappointment.

“She tried to steal it from me!” You replied, defending yourself.

“Didn’t give you a reason to smack her! What were you thinking? What— what am— are you okay, honey? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, but they made me wear this jail outfit. I don’t like it and it’s cold here.” You could barely took a breath when he replied to you straight away.

“The audacity of you to complain about that after you punched someone, Y/N. What am I supposed to do now? When can they release you? How many years?”

“They said you can come pick me up but you have to bring a pen because there’s some agreements you have to sign.” You answered. You had been silently giggling so you hoped the phone call didn’t pick up the sound of it.

“What agreement? Oh my god, how serious is this matter? What else should I bring?” He sounded like he was walking back and forth, probably from the agitation or he was indeed, looking for a pen.

“I don’t know! You need to come in 30 minutes or they won’t accept any appeal and you’ll have to wait for another month.” You pulled the phone away and winced when he howled in distress.

“Y/N! You should have told me earlier! Can you please take this seriously? We spent 10 minutes on the phone already. I’m coming.”

“Charles, wait!” He ended the call before you could say anything and convulsed with laughter, your body and shoulders shook from it. “I need to call him back before he literally go and pay the prison a visit. Bye!” You clicked on the red button on the screen of your phone and the video ended.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Can You Come Around

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

pairing: modern!steve harrington x modern!fem!reader

wc: 2629

cw: mad flirting, swearing, alcohol, drinking, weed, smoking, mentions of cheating, men being weird, smut, 18+ mdni, fingering, teasing

a/n: set in modern times with the reader as the front woman of a new band in NYC. hope you guys like it!!

steve masterlist

“Goddamn”  Eddie whispered as they all stared up at the stage. 

It was Robin’s twenty-first birthday, causing everyone to meet up in New York City. Since Robin was the last of the eldest teens to turn of legal drinking age, the group decided to go on a small trip in honor of the momentous occasion. 

A four day trip with four of Steve’s closest friends—what could possibly go wrong. 

Originally? Nothing.

Wednesday and Thursday went off without a hitch. Seeing as her birthday was Wednesday, they spent the night bar hopping, snagging free drinks from those who were feeling generous enough to donate to their celebration, and snagging as many free desserts from as many restaurants as possible.

Then Friday night hit. Abandoning their original plan to try this bar near NYU that Nancy had been raving about, they found themselves in some other part of Greenwich, at this random bar that Eddie just had to go to. 

You see, the group had run into one of Eddie’s old friends on Thursday, and he wouldn’t stop raving about this random band that only Eddie seemed to have heard about. And that’s when Eddie turned to look at the group. 

“No.”

“Nancy—”

“I said no Eddie, this was the plan–”

At one point he even got on his knees and pleaded with Nancy. 

She eventually caved when Eddie offered to sponsor her drinks for the rest of her trip.

Which is how they found themselves packed in the back corner of this surprising large space. It had to have spanned across two buildings since it was just this giant, underground hall that was covered in drawings, in stickers, in posters, in murals, in graffiti—dark, but not dingy, which Nancy and Robin greatly appreciated. Once the group had managed to snag a table in the back, and gotten their drinks, they all started talking to one another. 

It was loud, but since there was no music playing, they could still hear one another pretty well. 

That was until your band walked on stage the crowd of college kids roared. 

To say that Steve was completely and utterly entranced by you was an understatement. The roaming lights around the audience would catch his eyes every now and again, but it didn’t matter if he was being blinded since he could only see you anyways. 

As you greeted the audience, Eddie elbowed Steve slightly in an ‘I told you so’ manner. “You’re going to fucking love them man.” 

Steve only nodded in response, watching your smile broaden with each roar of applause from the crowd. 

The night went on like this, Steve being completely despondent from all conversations happening at the table, and the group making fun of his infatuation. He barely even finished the beer in his hand, only able to focus on the sound of your voice filling up every available inch of room. It was hard to not breathe you in with every single inhale he took. 

As the night was winding down, the crowd only grew. But as all good things, your performance had to come to an end. Your voice rang out. 

“New York!” 

They roared in response to you. 

“I just want to thank you all for coming out tonight to support me and my friends. At the end of the day we’re just a bunch of idiot twenty-two years old that fucking love music, and we’re so grateful you guys decided to come out and support us tonight.”

Steve heard Eddie scream over his shoulder with the rest of the crowd.

“Now, we only have one song left in our set–I know I know it’s devastating but some of us wanna get fucked up too.”

The opening chords of the song rang out and Steve swore he was going to go deaf. He had never actually felt sound before, but there was a first time for everything. 

Nancy whacked Eddie’s shoulder. “I fucking love this song, why didn’t you lead with that?” 

Eddie’s eyes grew wide as your voice floated over. 

Can you come around? Fuck me nice. 

“You know—you LIKE–this song?”

Pull my hair. Sing me lullabies. 

“Eddie, we listened to it in the van on the way here..”

And we can pretend that we're in love. 

Steve blocked out the rest of their conversations and zeroed in on the thrumming of his pulse as you continued to sing. 

“When you come around, I’ll wear red. And I’ll forget all the awful things you’ve ever said. And we can pretend that we're in love.” 

Singing has been a passion of yours from a very young age. You were in vocal lessons the second you turned four, and dance lessons by five. Your parents were certain you were going to be the next broadway triple threat. You had even picked up the guitar and piano by age seven. But by the time you hit middle school, you had become more interested in writing, in poetry. You dropped the dance lessons and picked up drum lessons instead, much to the chagrin of your father. Writing poetry turned into writing music, and suddenly you were sneaking off to go to concerts every night, finding ways to get into bars to see local singers and bands. It was exhilarating watching people pursue their passion.

You found your bandmates in your first semester at Columbia. You had been in the wrong place at the right time, finding out that one of your lab partners could also play the guitar and the bass. And then you found out she knew someone who played the drums who was looking for a few people to hangout with. Then you found out that the drummer's sister was a keyboardist who was over at NYU. And NYU’s roommate? Well she just so happened to be one of the greatest guitar players you had ever heard.

That’s when you guys started playing and writing music together. 

“Until I throw a punch and you call me a cunt and that tips me over the edge. Ah, you throw my phone out the window. The next thing the neighbor says she’s calling’ the feds, and I wish you were dead. For a sec. I wish you dead. “

You couldn’t help but feel as though someone had shot electricity through your veins. Any time you stepped out on that stage, it was as if the world shifted under your feet and suddenly you could feel every single pulse of every single person in the audience. 

Tonight was no exception. You had officially released two EPs with collections of songs on them over the past few years, but a few weeks ago, your band had signed with an agent, who was able to get you more gigs, better gigs. She was incredible. 

Exactly a week ago, you had released your first ever single with a label. Your EPs were listened to, and you were an up-and-coming group to look out for, for sure, but you had never had a single before. 

It blew up.

“But you come around. At ten pm. We watch tv. We break the bed.” 

Tonight was the first time you were singing the single live, and hearing the entire audience screaming the words back to you took your breath away. You almost forgot the next words since you were so baffled at just how many people knew your songs, how many people knew the words. 

 And we can pretend that we're in love. We can pretend that we’re in love.” 

You couldn’t help as your eyes roamed the entire audience the whole night, but during this final song, you locked eyes with someone in the back. 

He had these gorgeous eyes that only showed for a brief second as the light that had roamed over him, before it moved on and he was gone again. 

Your heart almost jumped into your throat and your stomach flipped. Who the fuck was this man, and how did you find him once you finished singing this song? 

“Until I throw a punch and you call me a cunt and that tips me over the edge. Ah, you throw my phone out the window. The next thing the neighbor says she’s calling’ the feds, and I wish you were dead.”

This song was written over the course of twenty-seven minutes. 

About four months ago, your relationship of three years had decided that you weren’t enough. And instead of ending it all proper-like, he decided to go and fuck some random girl in his ethics class. 

The irony was not lost on you. 

For a sec. I wish you dead. I wish you were dead.

After you had finished performing, you went backstage, congratulating your bandmates, but your mind was somewhere else. It was in the back of the venue with one of the most gorgeous men you had ever seen in your life. 

At the same time, Steve Harrington was running through all of the ways he would be able to find you in this crowd. He wasn’t about to tell his friends he was running off to find you, since it was Robin’s birthday night after all, but he wasn’t about to not take the chance. 

“They’re fucking amazing…” Robin slurred out a little bit, having had six shots in the past ten minutes. Wearing a “It’s my birthday” sash in a bar is all fun and games until you receive your tenth tequila shot and eighth free margarita from kind strangers. 

“Alright…maybe we should…”

Steve and Eddie chuckled at the sound that emanated from Robin’s mouth. He was sure if he put in the effort, he could translate it to a negative response to Nancy’s suggestion. 

“I’ll be right back Eds, while Nance and Johnny take Robin back. I know you wanted to stay out a little longer.” He muttered to Eddie before heading off, towards the hallway near the side of the venue. 

Steve found a bouncer near the end of the hallway who was smoking a cigarette and nodded outside. “Do you mind if I…?” 

The guy shook his head. “Knock twice to be let back in, yeah?” 

Steve nodded and headed outside, reaching into his pocket to pull out a joint from the small container in his pocket. 

Just as he did so, he heard a cough from beside him. “You don’t happen to have a…”

As Steve looked up, your voice trailed off. The rest of your sentence didn’t matter since you were face to face with the mystery man from the back of the room. 

“Hey you’re–” Steve pointed at you before realzing how fucking dumb he must sound. But you just shrugged and nodded. 

“Yeah. How’d you like the show?” 

Steve held the lighter up and lit the joint that was in your hand. “Loved it.”

“Yeah?” 

All you could notice was how gorgeous his eyes were again, stunned into a moment of hesitation with words since you were absolutely too mesmerized by him. 

“Great fucking show.” 

That and his hands. You would let those fucking hands do anything to you. 

“Think so?”

Steve nodded, and bit his lip as he looked you up and down shamelessly.

You come around. Fuck me nice. Pull my hair. Sing me lullabies.

You shoved Steve up against a wall, lips against his. He tasted like weed and whatever beer he had been drinking earlier. 

His hands cupped your ass as the two of you began to make out in the dimly lit alley behind the venue. 

No other words needed. 

Your body rolled reflexively against his, causing him to moan softly into your mouth. 

“Just gonna kiss me pretty boy or…” You muttered as you kissed across his jaw, sucking and leaving marks all across his neck. 

Steve took the opportunity to roll the both of you against the wall so now his body pressed yours up against it. 

His hands had moved from your back to your hips, squeezing them ever so slightly as to get more of a rise out of you. 

It was working. 

He slipped one of his hands down the curve of your hip and to the front of your jeans, unzipping them as you moaned into his mouth. The fingers that had previously been on his neck were now twisted in his hair. 

Steve’s pointer finger slid up your panties, causing your whole body to jolt at the touch of him between your thighs. 

“Please…fuck…P-Please.” 

His lips trailed down your cheek and towards your neck. 

The feeling of his hand so close to your pussy and the fanning of his breath over your neck was enough to almost send you over the edge right then and there. 

Steve knew better than to keep you waiting. Brushing aside your underwear with his thumb, he pressed a finger up into your core. 

Steve’s eye’s grew darker at the feeling of how completely soaked you were, just for him. 

Your hips rocked back and forth slightly, trying to get him to move, trying to get the friction. 

Steve took the hint and dug his finger in further, getting up to his knuckle in pussy. 

Once Steve had thouroughly fucked you with just one finger, he decided to add another. And then another, causing you to tug even more on his hair. 

Steve decided right then and there, he loved the feeling of your squirming on his hand while you yanked the shit out of his hair. 

“F-fuck–shit I’m…I’m so..” 

Steve started rapidly curling his fingers inside of you, over and over and over again, brushing against your g-spot over and over and over again. 

His other hand came up to your mouth and he slowly pushed his two middle fingers inside, causing you to slightly choke on them, and then moan. 

It was muffled by the digits in your mouth, but it was the final straw that caused your orgasm to snap your body in half. Choking slightly on one hand, and your pussy convulsing on his other, you had ascended to heaven. 

A man had never made you cum just by fingering you before. 

In the midst of your orgasm, body spasming at Steve’s fingers contined to fuck your insides, that Steve was probably just a god—a sex god really. No man could be this handsome and fuckable, while also being phenomenal at sex. 

Eventually as your body calmed down, and Steve removed his hand from your mouth, you felt his lips on yours. Your hand instantly shoved him hard against your lips, feeling the need to feel something of his skin on yours. 

He slowly circled his fingers causing your body to let out another moan, sending a shiver up your spine. 

After a few moments Steve pulled away, and you opened your eyes to take another look at the man standing with you. As you did so, he very gently pulled his hand out, looking you in the eyes the whole time. 

You might as well had cum a second time right then and there as he slowly slipped his fingers, covered in your orgasm, into his mouth. If you thought about it too much, you were sure you basically drooled right then and there for this man. 

“You…”

Steve raised his eyebrows at the fact that the woman he had just heard singing her heart out was now speechless at him. 

“Me?” 

“You’re coming back to my apartment.” 

“Oh?” 

You nodded and slid one of your hands down to zip up your jeans and fix your shirt.  Not that it mattered since you looked like you had just been fucked to heaven and back in an alley. 

Not even a moment later, just as Eddie was leaving the club he received a text from Steve: 

Dont wait up

[erikahenningsen]

Rejanis idea that's been floating around my head if you want it: Gretchen shares her "Songs Regina Hates" playlist with Janis. Janis plays it whenever she wants to annoy Regina (often).

"Ew, what the fuck is this?"

"You've never heard 'Don't Stop Believin''?" Janis asks, a little incredulously.

Regina cuts her eyes to Janis briefly before turning back to the road. "Of course I've heard it. Why are we listening to it?"

"Do you not like it?"

"No. Change it."

Janis bites her lip to keep from laughing, and hits the skip button on her Spotify playlist—the one Gretchen had shared with Janis when Janis and Regina started dating so she would know what not to play around Regina. The one titled "Songs Regina Hates." The one Janis has been waiting for the precise right time to play.

There's some big accident on I-90, which has resulted in bumper-to-bumper traffic. They're going to be in this car for the foreseeable future, and they're barely moving, which means that, if necessary, Janis can open the door and roll out before Regina can kill her.

The opening notes of "Mambo No. 5" start playing and Regina visibly grinds her teeth.

"Next," Regina says shortly.

Dutifully, Janis skips to the next song: "Uptown Funk."

Regina turns to fully look at Janis, eyebrows knitted together and mouth tense. "What the fuck is this playlist?"

"Just some of my favorite songs," Janis replies, clenching the muscles in her stomach to keep from laughing.

"These are not your favorite songs, you hipster bitch," Regina shoots back.

"You don't know everything about me," Janis says.

Regina lets out a big sigh, like the fact that Janis is still alive and in Regina's presence is some enormously burdensome gift. "Just... change it."

"You got it," Janis says enthusiastically, hitting the skip button and letting Ed Sheeran's "Thinking Out Loud" play.

Before Janis can blink, Regina's hand shoots out and snatches Janis's phone out of her hand.

"Hey!" Janis protests, reaching for it.

Regina knocks her hand away. "Janis, stop. I'm driving."

"You took my phone," Janis says incredulously.

Regina ignores her, looking at the screen. "'Songs Regina Hates'? What the fuck is this? Are you so obsessed with me that you keep track of the music I don't like?"

"The only person obsessed with you is you," Janis says, grabbing the phone back.

"Says the person who texted me I can't stop thinking about you this morning," Regina replies, eyebrow raised.

"You've literally texted me the words I'm obsessed with you." Janis crosses her arms.

"I said I was obsessed with your boobs, not you."

In retaliation, Janis changes the song to "Old Town Road."

"Who the fuck made this?" Regina demands, reaching out to whack Janis on the arm without looking away from the road.

"I was sworn to secrecy," Janis insists, dodging the hit.

Regina narrows her eyes. "I'll find out."

It's probably meant to sound threatening—and it probably would be, to someone else—but Janis just rolls her eyes.

"Can we please listen to some normal music," Regina says exasperatedly.

"Okay," Janis says in a mock-defeated tone.

About ten seconds into "Lose Yourself" by Eminem, Regina reaches out and presses a few buttons on the console, disconnecting Janis's phone from the bluetooth.

"Hey!" Janis cries. "That's so rude."

Regina cuts her a withering look. "Second option was throwing your phone out the window."

Janis huffs out a breath, irritated despite the fact that she was deliberately annoying Regina for her own amusement.

Regina glances at her, looking amused. "Don't pout."

"I'm not pouting," Janis denies. "You're just mean to me."

Regina's smile morphs into something different, something almost... predatory.

"I'm not mean," Regina says. "In fact, I'm very generously going to give you a chance to make it up to me when we get home."

Janis frowns, confused. "Make what up to you?"

"Allegedly enjoying the worst songs known to humanity."

Janis snorts. "I'm sooo sorry."

Regina reaches over and places a possessive hand on Janis's leg, fingers digging into the inside of her thigh. It makes Janis shiver, and, judging by her smirk, Regina notices.

Regina gives Janis a look that makes little sparks zip down her spine.

"You better be."

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

The Art of Stealth

masterlist

summary: jason doesn’t seem to understand the art of sneaking into your dorm room quietly

pairing: jason teague x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 0.9k

warnings: none really, language, bed sharing, jason being adorable, tooth rotting fluff

timeline: set before the show, so no real spoilers

author’s note: i looove this character so much and i really wish he was in more than 20 episodes :,,)

You and Jason started dating when you were Sophomores in High School. You were there for him each football game to cheer from the bleachers, and when he got accepted to Metropolis University you were both overjoyed. When you also got accepted, Jason was that much more excited about going to college.

Suddenly all the trips back to Smallville he’d been mapping out had no need to be taken and he could simply see you on campus.

Jason was part of a fraternity with his teammates, but you hadn’t joined a sorority. So, Jason would sneak into your dorm room. However, he wasn’t very good at the actual sneaking part.

**

A loud crash woke you up and you grabbed the baseball bat from under your bed. You were ready to whack the shadowy figure that had climbed through your window when you heard his voice.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jason groaned. “God, you need to put some pillows under the window or something.”

“Jason? What the hell are you doing?”

“Visiting my girlfriend? So we can sleep in the same bed?” He stood up, a smile on his face. “What? It’s Saturday, everyone’s sleeping in and no one will notice I’m in here!”

“You’re adorable, but if you get caught in the girl’s wing you could get expelled!”

“You kidding? Who could expel this adorable face?” He was still smiling as you turned on your light and tossed the bat onto your bed.

“How do you look so cute right now? You just fell into my room!” you laughed a little.

“Awe you love me, don’t you?”

“I really do.” You got on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his full lips. “So much.”

**

You were studying for an upcoming test when you heard a rushed knock at your door. You slowly got up from your chair and walked to the door, the knock continuing up until you opened the door.

“Oh my god, Jason!” you gasped and pulled him into the room quickly. “What the hell?”

“What?” he asked, furrowing his brows and smiling.

“It’s after nine and a weekday! You can’t be here! Did anyone see you? God damn it, Jason if I have to bribe the girl across the hall again I-” He cut you off by grabbing your face and kissing you. “Alright, you’re forgiven.”

“I think I’m getting better at this whole sneaking around thing, though,” he said, walking over to your bed and sitting down. “I’m like ninety-five percent sure no one saw me.” He leaned back and grinned before someone knocked on the door. You motioned for Jason to hide, so he rolled onto the floor.

You opened the door and were met with your smiling neighbor, “Hey Casey, wha- what’re you doing here?”

“I saw Jason come in here, Y/n,” she said flatly. She held out her hand with a smile. “C’mon, girl’s gotta eat!”

“This is so unfair! I see your girlfriend going into your room every night!” you said. You went to your dresser to grab five dollars.

“The perks of being a lesbian, Y/n!” Casey smirked when you handed her the money. “You should try it sometime.” You closed the door.

“Jason, you can come back out,” you told him before he slid out from under the bed.

“You know you’ve got like ten pairs of panties under here?” He smiled up at you from the carpet. You rolled your eyes and held out your hand which he took and used to heave himself off the floor. “Love you,” he said and kissed you.

“Next time I’m sneaking into your place,” you mumbled.

“Ooh no!” He shook his head. “House full of horny guys that might combust if they see you in your tiny pj’s? No thanks, sweetheart.”

“Well then, just slide five dollars under Casey’s door before knocking on mine tomorrow, okay?” you laughed.

**

“Good morning,” you mumbled, snuggling into Jason’s chest. Your eyes suddenly flew open. “Oh my god!”

“Shit,” Jason sighed.

“Shit is right! Hurry up and climb out the window!” you exclaimed, pulling the covers off of him and standing up. “I am not getting expelled just because you haven’t grasped the art of sneaking in and out of my bedroom!”

“Wouldn’t it be smarter to just act like I came here early in the morning?” he asked. He stood up and put his pants on from the night before. “If anyone asks, you can say you had to help me study?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You nodded a little, looking into his bright green eyes. You then shook your head, “Wait, no it doesn’t! Stop giving me that look that makes me do anything for you and just hurry out of here before someone sees you!”

He grinned, “You really are a sucker for this smile, aren’t you?”

“I really, really am so please get out of this room before I fold and jump back into bed with you!”

“I love you,” he said before he kissed you. He then put his shirt on, kissed you again, and climbed out the window. “See you in class, my love!” He peeked his head into your room and you kissed him one last time before he left for good and you closed the window.

“My love?” You scrunched up your face a little. “Who talks like that?” You laughed lightly then groaned to yourself, “god damn it, I love him so much!”

[lesbosaur1]

Scars, a DNF Fic

okay guys this took forever to write, and I'm still not sure how to format this stuff in Tumblr, but here we go!! 2.9k words!

George always wondered why Dream only wore hoodies and long sleeves.

TW: Language, mentions of self harm, suggestion of Alcohol

Everyone has scars. Either mental or physical. And George knows this well. Not so much the physical part, as his few scars are from stupid childhood shticks and mosquito bites. He never really went outside or did anything stupid. He preferred to stay inside and play games with Dream, his best friend.He and Dream met ages ago, but now that they finally live together with Sapnap, George has been noticing some things that he never saw before. Mostly because he didn’t know what Dream had looked like for years, but he recently has been noticing that Dream doesn’t wear short-sleeved shirts. Always hoodies, mostly merch from his friend’s channels. But even when he first came out to meet George when the two first met in real life, he still had long sleeves. Which annoys George for some reason. He wants to know everything about Dream. Not in a love way, George doesn’t love Dream. At least he thinks so.

So while Dream is out shopping with Sapnap, George stays back, frustratedly flopping onto a couch. He had tried literally everything he could think of to get Dream to take his hoodie off. Including turning the heat up in the house. Which only led to Sapnap complaining and walking around shirtless for an hour. But not Dream.

He groans and tosses his head back, only to be immediately whacked in the face with a tail. Spitting hair out of his mouth he turns to glare at Patches. But he can’t stay mad at that face. Especially since that’s Dream’s cat…..

He picks Patches up and ignoring her annoyed grunts, stares her in the eyes.

“What is he hiding?” He mumbles to the cat, like she’s going to tell him.

Patches blinks, swats him in the face and jumps off the couch to go do cat things. George sighs. He knows it’s weird. Like, why does he care so much about seeing Dream’s arms? It’s not like he finds Dream attractive, or has a thing for arms. He just wants to know. Right?

He jumps up as the main door opens. He hadn’t even heard the car! Sapnap walks in with a pineapple for some reason and Dream follows behind him. In a hoodie with Bad’s logo on it.

George sighs. ‘Of course’ he thinks.Then flushes, did he sigh out loud?

Dream looks at him. “Did you finish editing?” He asks in that stupid, idiotic, not at all deep, definitely not attractive voice of his. George blinks. “Uhhhh” he trails off. Dream rolls his eyes. “I’m not doing it for ya George. You’re not conning me into it again!”

Sapnap’s voice echoes from the kitchen. “He’ll do it George! You know he’s too much of a simp to say no”

Dream jumps over the couch and runs at Sapnap. “Take that back idiot!” He says, bear hugging Sapnap and picking him up off the floor. George watches with an amused face, used to the two of them fighting. He knows Dream doesn’t like him like that. He watches as Dream tosses Sapnap onto the couch like a doll, his mind flashing to thoughts of how strong Dream must be, and what his muscles look like…..

His face flushes and he smacks his head lightly, ‘Stop thinking about him like that George! That’s your best friend!’ He says to himself internally.

But the thought is still in his head. ‘you two kissed already remember? And you liked it’ George internally yells at himself. It was New Year's Eve, and being high on exhilaration from finally being together and a bit tipsy on champagne, had resulted in a hug and soft peck that wasn't spoken of again. George didnt like thinking about that.

Eventually they get up, go through the routine, his thoughts spiraling like this rollercoaster him and Dream had gone on together, Dream’s arm wrapped around his waist for balance. ‘dammit george’

They eat dinner together like always. For some reason Fundy ends up calling Sapnap after, so it ends up being just George and Dream for a few hours. George keeps everything normal, talking about a chat he had with Puffy and Tommy and Wilbur’s latest stream, a reaction to an upcoming movie. It’s about ten when Dream gets up, motioning to his room. “Gonna go change” he says. George nods, denying his quickening pulse. It’s risky, what he wants to do, but they’re best friends, nothing could go wrong!

He sits and mulls for a while.He can hear Sapnap’s muffled conversation from his room, talking about some anime character or other, but he walks past his door, not chiming in. Instead he walks up to Dream’s door. His pulse is fast, faster then when he plays for MCC. Maybe not as fast as when he stepped out of Sapnap’s Tesla and saw Dream, the sun raining around his face and broad shoulders, making him look like a god, handsome and beautiful and…..

He ignores that thought, squares his shoulders, and pushes open Dream’s door. The heat hits him in the face first, Dream”s bathroom door open, steam billowing from it into the room. George swallows thickly. This feels different then his normal curiosity. But things with Dream have been different lately anyways.

He pushes all thoughts out of his mind and peers around the bathroom door. His best friend is standing in front of the mirror, fiddling with his phone, his hair wet. There's a towel around his shoulders. George follows down every line of muscles, making it down to his basketball shorts, where the edge of his boxers peek out. His face is red and his pulse is definitely faster then that first meeting now. His thoughts are racing so fast he can't even make out a coherent one except ‘whoa’

His eyes catch a twisted scar on Dream’s leg, and some nicks on his arms. He can't see his right shoulder yet, but he longs to.

And then Dream looks up.

‘god George you're such an idiot’ is what races through his mind at first then, ‘could my face get any redder?’ One glance in the mirror says that it can. He nervously meets Dream’s eyes.

“George?” He says, in a confused tone, turning to him.“Shit shit shit sorry Dream I just-” He cuts off seeing Dream’s right shoulder. He lets out a small gasp and steps forward, all thoughts of embarrassment rushing from his head, only focusing on the multitude of purple, and white parallel scars going down Dream’s shoulder to his forearm. A tentative finger reaches out and brushes along one.

“Dream?” He says softly. “What-?” Dream is the one to turn away this time, his hand reaching for his hoodie which is hanging in the back of the door. George catches his wrist, his small fingers encircling it.Dream’s eyes flick up to his. “George” his voice is small, sad, broken, “don't do this. It doesn't matter anymore, they're old, its-”

“That does matter!” George’s heart throbs with pain. His eyes flick across the scars, counting in his head. ‘twelve’ he notes. He sighs. He can't- can't just do that. His eyes were so pleading.

He sighs. “What's that one from?” He points at the scarred over gash on Dream's leg.

Dream blinks. “W-what? I thought you- umm I was geocaching and I fell into some quicksand. I was with my girlfriend and sister and I had to pull myself out alone cause they weren't there. A stick caught. Why are you-”

George cuts him off, ignoring the weird sting from Dream saying the word ‘girlfriend’ that can't be jealousy. Why would he be jealous of Dream having an ex girlfriend?

“And that one?” He says pointing towards what looks like a skinned knee that never healed.

Dream swallows. “Uh there was a spider in my car and I jumped out of it, but my sister was still in the car and I hadn't put it into park so it was rolling away” A faint smile crosses his lips. “I had to jump into the car and stop it. Skinned my knee real bad”

Before George can think, he reaches out and traces a small little pucker on Dream’s bare chest. He pulls back with a gasp as what he just did hit him. ‘Goddamnit George! Why are you acting like this??’

He puts on a small smile. “I- uh- what is that one from?”

He didn't notice that Dream’s muscles tensed up at his touch, that the taller man’s face had turned a slight shade of pink.

“Uh y’know those like little blowtorch things that you can make with a lighter and hairspray?”

George sighs. “Seriously?”

Dream cracks a small smile. “It was worth it! It was really cool!”

George's smile slowly turns back into a soft, but serious expression again. “And those?” he says, resisting the urge to trace all twelve of those white/purple lines.Dream fidgets with his hands before pushing past George to go sit on his bed. George's face heats up again as his shoulder brushes against Dream’s bare skin. He follows behind him, watching as Dream tosses his towel onto the floor and sits on his bed, head in his hands.

All George wants to do is put his arms around him, like they do all the time, but something is different now. “Look, Dream. Look at me?” He says softly. Dream raises his head. His eyes are red, bleary. George hadn't noticed before but Dream looked tired today. There's a faint faint laugh from Sapnap’s room. He must still be on call with Fundy. George gathers himself, his racing thoughts starting to evolve into a headache, and sits down next to Dream. “We can just sit for now? Okay?”

He says, making sure not to touch Dream, even though he badly wants to.

Dream nods, his wet hair flinging cold droplets all over George. George shivers as they hit his skin, but he shakes it off. “So- uh- I’m sorry I kinda barged in on you changing” He starts to say slowly. “Yeah why did you? Did you need something?” Dream says, raising his head out of his hands. His chest is still bare, and George flicks his eyes away quickly, realizing he’d been tracing his abs and v-line with his gaze. His face turns red again and he coughs to cover up a small sigh. “N-no I had just been realizing that, uh, you only ever wear long sleeve stuff, and I wanted to see why” he admits. “Sorry that’s weird”

Dream smiles softly. “You could’ve just asked. I would’ve told you.” His face falters. “Maybe. I don’t know. I trust you”

They sit there in silence. Dream’s leg bounces up and down rapidly and he fidgets with his hands. George doesn’t say anything. He knows it’s hard for him to sit still.

There’s a yell from outside.“GEORGE!” It’s Sapnap, bellowing from the living room. George glances at Dream again. “I- i should go see what he wants-” He says awkwardly. Dream looks down at his hands. “Yeah. I guess you should.”

He says quietly. George stands up and walks out, not looking back even though he wants to, so bad. His heart is breaking.

“What Sapnap?” He asks, stepping into the living room where Sapnap lounges on a couch with an X-box controller in his hands. Sapnap starts rambling on about how this game that he plays is coming out with an update and that’s why Fundy called him, and he’s gonna be so mad if they get rid of this one feature. George listens, fumbling with the chain around his neck that Dream had given to him ages ago. He still hadn’t taken it off. Sapnap breaks off and squints at his shirt.

“Why is your shirt wet? You didn’t take a shower” He states. George winces. “Oh, uh Dream took a shower. From his hair”

Sapnap pauses, then a grin spreads across his face. “God the media would kill to know that. DNF for life baby!” He says, pumping his fist into the air. George sighs.

“Are you kidding? That’s so old! We all know Dream doesn’t like me like that. We’re just….. best mates.” Those words tasted bitter as he said them, which was weird as hell. He doesn’t love Dream! Not like that!

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Gogy, gogy, gogy.” He says, standing up and putting his hands on George’s shoulders. “He looks at you like you’re his whole universe. I love you man, and as much as I would complain about third-wheeling everything, god could you two just kiss already? Like holy shit guys c’mon! Y’all considered getting married!”

George’s face flames, though he doesn’t know if it’s anger or embarrassment. ‘Embarrassment? I don’t have anything to be embarrassed about’

“I-I mean yeah but that was only so i could get a visa- and” He’s fumbling words, trying to explain himself.

Sapnap sighs. “Go to him” Sapnap says dramatically, “Go to your dream man. Geddit? Dream, man?” He laughs. George rolls his eyes, his face aflame. “Real funny” he turns away from Sapnap and almost runs back down the hallway to Dream’s room.

“Dream?” He asks softly as he walks in. Dream is still sitting on his bed, but he had a white T-shirt on. ‘Which somehow makes him look even better then shirtless, and shut the hell up George.’

He shakes his head and sits next to Dream, his shoulder brushing his, which makes his whole body go hot again. ‘damnit George’

“Sorry about Sapnap he was talking about some game and-” George's voice cuts off as Dream thunks his head onto his shoulder. George lets out a little gasp. Which is so weird. ‘We used to be so close like that all the time. But now I can't stop seeing Dream….. differently. And shut up George this isn't about you!’

He balls his hands into fists, drums them on his legs for a few beats and makes up his mind. He slowly reaches up and slides Dream’s right shirt sleeve up. He definitely notices now that Dream’s muscles tense, and his breathing quickens. ‘that doesn't mean anything right? Just best mates’ He assures himself.

“I don't know what to say” He admits eventually.

Dream sighs, and raises his head up, and George falls into his eyes. He shakes his head and snaps himself out of his trance. Dream starts to talk. “Look, George.” He starts with, George's heart starting to pound in his ears, “those first few months after the face reveal were um…. rough.”

He pauses. “And I was kind of alone then. Sapnap was in England and I was just here. Alone.” His words start to get faster, more frantic. “And I got in my head and I didn't know what else to do and it was just over and over again-” George lightly traces the scars as Dream keeps rambling. “And I know it was stupid, so so damn stupid because I just am a stupid fucking clown that messes everyth-”

George kisses him.

And it's wonderful. Just a soft kiss. But it was George’s first kiss ever (that he counts) and he didn't expect it to be like this. It was soft and simple, but George could swear that he feels Dream lean into it a little, as Dream’s long curly hair brushes his face, as his nose touches his. He pulls back and sees something, something in Dream’s eyes.

His face flushes bright red, the reddest it's ever been, his neck and ears hot as he looks down at the ground. “Sorry” he mumbles. ‘why am I so stupid with emotions!? He obviously didn't want that I seriously just messed up’

“George…..” Dream says softly. George looks down at the ground, clenching his hands into fists in his lap. “S-sorry Dream it won't happen again I didn't mean to-”

And this time it's Dream that cuts him off.

This kiss is longer, a bit deeper, more intimate. George feels Dream’s hand wind itself around his neck and into his hair, holding his head in place. He can't believe this is happening and normally he'd be way overthinking this but his head, his head was empty. None of the worry or thoughts of anything.He tentatively puts his hand on Dream’s chest, feeling his warm skin through his T-shirt, the strength that Dream holds. It breaks off and George looks up, a bit out of breath.

“I- uh. How long have you-?”

Dream smiles, “Since the best friend quiz” he admits, scratching the back of his head. “Been wanting to do that for a while”

George starts to laugh. “Dreammmmm!!” He says. “Seriously!? I've been stressed about that for ages!” His voice turns a bit more serious. “But promise me something?”

There's a heartbeat of silence. “Yeah?” comes the reply.

“If you ever…… wanna do that again,” George’s hand slides up Dream’s arm, settling in the spot where his sleeve covers the scars, “talk to me?”

“The kissing? Cause I'll be talking to you all the time then?” Dream says with a mischievous smile. George turns red again and covers his face with his hands.

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

Dream laughs. “Fine, fine. Yes. I promise Georgenotfound that I'll talk to him if I ever feel shitty again. That work?”

“It does” George says.

“God finally” says a voice from the doorway. Sapnap stands there, eating a bag of chips. George buries his face in his hands again as Dream lunges off the bed to slam the door shut in Sapnap's face. There's a muffled shout of indignation and “we gonna have to set some ground rules now!! Hands above the lap gentlemen” yelled through the door and some wild laughter as he walks off.

Dream fidgets again before he pulls George’s hands off his face, the cool metal of his ring brushing George’s fingers.

Dream looks a bit nervous, and George's brain goes into panic mode. “What?” He asks.

“No! No no no nothing's wrong sorry George” Dream says quickly. “I just uh had been writing a new song.”

George tilts his head. “Really?”

“Um yeah. So uh can I play it for you?” He looks like a nervous puppy afraid of the response.

“Of course!” George says, basically vibrating with excitement. He did love Dream’s music. It was like the only thing he listened to now. He even listened to it in the shower and- ‘now is not the time George’

Dream had got up and turned a dial on his speaker system, the one thing he spoiled himself with. Music comes through, soft at first, then growing.George takes Dream’s outstretched hands and stands, leaning his forehead against Dreams’.

🎶 “I can't breathe when you're not there, you're not there, you're not there. I can't sleep it's a nightmare” 🎶

[jettboat]

CHAPTER 3 - NEW INFORMATION AND COOKIES

"Dude! That's so cool! Are you like invincible right now?!" Bdubs stood up from his chair in excitement, making Etho jump.

"Yeeess... Until someone hits me and finds my heart-" Etho stopped before looking back up at his friend. "You're not going to hit me to find my heart, are you?"

"What?! No!" Bdubs sat back down and crossed his arms. "I don't want to hurt you!"

Etho's shoulders seemed to relax, which made Bdubs's heart sink.

Did Etho think he was gonna hurt him? Why would he ever do that! Did someone he trusted hurt him?

Before Bdubs could follow that train of thought, a knock on the door rang out through the house.

Etho and Bdubs froze, Etho pulled back up his mask. Bdubs immediately looked down at his cocoa to let Etho stand up.

He heard Etho walk towards the door and creak it open. Then he heard a sigh of relief before a familiar voice made it's way to Bdubs's ears.

"Etho! I heard what happened!" BigB said before dropping his voice to a rather loud whisper. "Is he causing you trouble?"

Bdubs heard Etho close the door. "No BigB, he's fine. Better than I thought, actually. Oh- You can look up now, Bdubs." Etho said.

Bdubs looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin.

BigB was part wood! He was a creaking like Etho??

"Don't be scared! I can only hold my human form for so long and I can't transform right now!" BigB explained hastily while wildly waving his arms, nearly whacking Etho in the face.

"Human form?" Bdubs asked.

"Yeah! I can only keep up my human form for an hour. Etho, here, can hold his all day." BigB explained.

"Until I need to go to sleep." Etho chuckled, taking off his mask.

"Yeah, until he needs to sleep. You still need to tell me how you managed that, dude!" BigB responded.

"Not right now, do you want a hot cocoa?" Etho asked pointing his thumb towards the kitchen.

"Sure. I wanna get some info outta Bdubs." BigB explained.

"I'm still here, you know!" Bdubs yelled before looking back down at his cocoa so the others could move.

The two creakings moved around the house, BigB to the couch (Bdubs only knew that because Etho started telling BigB to not get splinters and leaves all over his recliner chair again) and Etho to the kitchen.

Bdubs heard Etho pour a mug of hot cocoa and give it to BigB before making his way back to his spot across from Bdubs.

"So, what type of creature are you?" BigB asked.

Bdubs took a long sip of his cocoa. "I'm just a human." He mumbled.

"What's wrong with being a human?" Etho asked.

Bdubs looked at the two creakings for a moment. "You guys aren't gonna be like 'arg he's a human! I'm gonna kick him outta my woods!' or something like that?"

The two creakings now looking very confused.

"What?? No?? Why would we do that?" BigB asked.

"My old village didn't have a lot of humans in it, I got bullied a lot, got into a few fights... So, you guys... Aren't angry?" Bdubs asked.

"No! Of course we aren't!" Etho said. "We thought you'd be angry at us!"

"Well. This is one confusing night." Bdubs laughed, making the other laugh as well.

The laughter was interrupted by Bdubs's growling stomach.

"I'll find some food." Etho said before Bdubs turned to look at BigB.

"Any other questions?" Bdubs asked as he heard Etho rummaging through a chest in the kitchen.

"Yep!" The creaking responded. "Why'd you come into the garden anyways?"

"Oh! Grian and Martyn wanted me to find out what Etho was in exchange for a life." He explained.

"Those two are trouble together. Wasn't it Grian first, then Martyn joined in the shenanigans later?" BigB asked.

"Yeah! It was weird, Grian was giving me the details of the deal and Martyn was just standing there listening." A chill ran down Bdubs's spine. "I don't like what they're planning."

"Me neither." Etho had sat back down at the table.

The creaking tossed one cookie to BigB and handed one to Bdubs.

BigB gasped happily before immediately munching on it.

Etho nibbled on his, Bdubs usually saw him eat by raising his mask a bit so he could eat and no one could see his eye, and that was when he rarely ate around others.

As Etho ate his cookie, his two eyes stared down at his snack as if inspecting it, but his third eye scanned the room of any dangers. It landed on Bdubs for a split second before quickly looking away. Bdubs guessed Etho was still getting used to his friend knowing his secret.

Bdubs dunked half his cookie into his cocoa as BigB made a muffled gasp as an idea struck him.

"I heard about this new biome! A kingdom of sweets! We should totally go tomorrow! It might have answers on the two mischief makers!" BigB exclaimed.

"How will sweets help us get Grian and Martyn off our tails?" Etho chuckled.

"Grian's a sugar plum fairy. Duh!" BigB raised his arms in the air, sprinkling crumbs all over Etho's couch and rug. "It will definitely have answers to what their up to."

"I like the sound of that!" Bdubs said.

The two looked towards Etho with goofy smiles on their faces.

Etho sighed. "I'm out numbered, aren't I?"

"Yep!" The two yelled in unison.

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

"Martyn? Where are you going?" Ren asked as he watched Martyn fold and tie a rope around his dress so it wouldn't drag on the ground.

"Going on a quick trip with Grian, will be back soon!" Martyn explained before looking up and smiling at his snail-dog friend.

"Can I come?" Ren asked, his tail wagging a bit.

Martyn bit his lower lip, he looked torn.

"I'm sorry, you can't. You need to watch the base, I'll be gone for a few days at most." There was a crack in Martyn's voice when he spoke. Plus, I... It might be dangerous. I don't want you getting hurt. Not when you're on yellow."

Ren was quiet for a moment before walking up to Martyn and giving him a tight hug.

"Then be careful. Please." The snail-dog said softly.

"I will... I will..." Martyn mumbled as he hugged Ren just as tightly.

Ren wasn't sure why Martyn needed to go with Grian, but he knew his friend would be okay.

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

Martyn broke down into tears when he left Renwood.

He was tired. Tired in general and tired of being forced to follow Grian around... Or what was left of Grian...

The watchers were awful beings. Martyn knew that well. And if he wanted to see Ren after this night, he'd need to keep following Grian.

And so, he walked off towards the Sub 1 Club's base to find the watcher.

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

I'm so glad you guys are loving this au as much as I do!

So sorry for the long wait! I've been super busy! Have this really long, lore filled, chapter as a reward for your patience!

Also, I haven't announced this but I changed Bdubs to a human! He gets ✨lore✨!

After the main plot is finished, if you guys want, I can make one shots and qnas in between the mer au!

Thanks for reading this really long chapter! Have a great day! And a cookie from Etho! 🍪

[makos-hotbox]

I need the classic "freezing on a mission so we have to warm up by cuddling" with ghost or könig and fem reader honestly I can't pick when it comes to these to so you get to 💀

Maybe reader falls into a lake by accident so she's extra cold, but it is snowing so that doesn't help on bit.

Bonus if she gets sick and now they have to take care of her <3

LARGE FONT VER. (coming soon)

… 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄

`⌁ ◜ 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫… 𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞! ◞

Quick and smooth.

That’s how all missions with König were. The two of you had always been the perfect duo for in and out situations. König’s sniping skills were remarkable. Paired with your quick feet and close combat skills? Where there was one, the other was close by. König would stay back and shoot down any straggling enemies while you speed through the compound in search of your target with your K9 in the lead.

Just like you are now. Cold winter air biting at your skin and freezing your lungs. You thanked yourself for deciding to wear the spiked boots this time. The layer of ice on top of the concrete you were running on would have definitely screwed you over if you wore your normal shoes.

“All targets down back here. I’ll start following you.” König’s hushed voice came over the earpiece. You didn’t answer, but none was needed. König knew where you were, and he wouldn’t want you talking and bringing attention on accident. Your job was to be stealthful, get in and out in one piece.

The snow that had made it way into your uniform had melted, leaving you a bit damp under all those layers that were meant to keep said snow out. It was already enough to make you feel gross and uncomfortable, giving you all the more reason to hurry up with this execution. Turning a corner, you finally caught eyes on your target.

He was alone, unaware that all his men had already been taken care of. He thinks he’s safe. Reading up on his history and file made you sick. No man like him should feel safe knowing he’s murdered tons of innocents. With a loud whistle, you sent your dog to go ahead and grab him.

Over the screams and begs for mercy, there was finally an opening for you to sink your knife into his flesh. Bringing an end to the dangers that he caused. Finally. Shadow waited patiently with a wagging tail as you slowly got up from the cold ground. “Gruselig.” Startled, you quickly turned around to see König standing not to far away. He laughed at your reaction, seeing you as a tiny kitten now. No longer a vicious wolf who just executed their target.

“Fuck… don’t sneak up on me like that!” You whacked his arm, which only made him laugh more. “Whatever. Anyways, our targets down. Mission accomplished. Now let’s leave because I am freezing.” König heard your teeth begin to chatter and shook his head. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder to hold you closer to him, as you both walked back to the truck.

Shadow followed as you all left the snow covered compound. Eventually going into the forest, piles of snow everywhere you could see. It looked like every winter wonderland scene in the movies; gorgeous.

Spotting the truck tucked between some trees, you pulled away from König with a sudden burst of energy. “Race you!” And before he could respond, you sprinted through the remainder of the forest. All that was between you and the vehicle was a field of snow.

Hearing König’s loud stomping through the snow as he caught up to you, a scream of excitement left your lips. A large grin on your face as you enjoyed your time with your boyfriend. Still managing to keep your lead, you sped up enough to leave a big gap between you and König.

However, your lead didn’t last long. König was barely leaving the forest just as you finished crossing halfway through the open field of snow. And after one particularly heavy step, a loud crack was heard. Not a moment passed before the ice under your boot broke and sent you plunging into the cold water. A shock immediately hit your spine from the sudden temperature change.

The water felt like needles against your skin as you panicked, trying to swim back up and get out. Reaching a hand out to the surface, you felt something firmly take hold of it. You were immediately yanked out of the water, König being your savior. He held you steady as you tried to regain your composure.

“Holy shit!— Y/n are you okay?” König worried, watching as your body began to shiver even more. You nodded your head, too cold to even speak. “Let’s get to the truck, no more running. We need to be careful.” Instead of letting you walk though, König picked you up in his arms and began carrying your shivering body to the vehicle. Shadow was still a happy dog during all of this. A bit messed up considering his handler just fell under the ice of a surprise lake.

You had no complaints though, all of the shivering was causing your muscles to ache. Once König got to the truck, he placed you in the passenger seat and quickly moved to the driver's side. Turning the heater on, he quickly drove away from the area of your recent mission back to the base so you could change.

»»»

After arriving at the base, König ignored the greeting from Soap. Too busy helping you back out into the cold weather. The snowy wind already making your teeth chatter again. “Woah! What the hell happened to you c/n?” Soap tried to stifle his laughter with no sucess.

“K… kiss m-my ass-ss So…Soap.” You grumbled, shivering jaw making the comment much less threatening. Before Soap could bother you anymore, Ghost shooed him away. Also waving off you and König, urging for you to get inside and take care of yourself.

Grabbing your hand, König led you inside and through the halls of the base. Your legs ached from the uncomfortable feeling of your cold gear pressed against your skin. The feeling in your fingertips had gone away long ago and you were aching to have it back. König still hasn’t said much, just quiet whispers of encouragement here and there.

Finally, the two of you reached your room. As soon as the door was shut, you began to discard your uniform. Yanking off the wet fabric while König searched for some warmer clothes for you. “Get in the shower Maus, I’ll bring your clothes. You get warm.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Quickly, you ran into your bathroom and turned on a hot shower. Relief flooded your body feeling your muscles relax and warmth make its way to your fingertips. For a few minutes, you just stood there and allowed for the warm water to just wash over you.

There was a quick knock at the door before it was opened, König’s voice reaching your ears from the other side of the shower curtain. “Your clean clothes are sitting on the counter. Do you need anything else, Liebling?” He asked.

“No, I think I’ll be okay. Thank you König.” You replied, washing the soap out of your hair. König left the bathroom, going back into your room to take care of the dirty uniform.

Getting out of the shower, you quickly threw on your warmer outfit and walked into your room. König had set up your portable heater and some extra blankets on the bed. The man himself was busy looking for a movie on your laptop for the two of you to watch. He had taken off his veil, and also changed his clothes. “Feeling better, Maus?”

You nodded your head with a small smile on your face. Joining him on your bed, the two of you shifted so you could lay comfortably with each other. “Much better. Thank you so much for helping me out of there König… I don’t know what could’ve happened if you weren’t there. I almost couldn’t find anything to grab onto.” A shiver went down your spine at the memory of being in that dark, freezing cold water.

“It’s okay, Maus. Remember, as long as we’re together, I’m never letting a damn thing happen to you. Not a splinter, not a drop of blood.” König said reassuringly, squeezing you closer to him. His free hand played with your hair while the other continued to search for a movie.

The remainder of the night was spent with the two of you curled up in a cuddle pile. Movies playing back to back until the two of you fell asleep. König wanted to stay and also make sure you would be okay after experiencing all of that cold weather. Your body never shivered again, König prevented that with his insane body heat.

Sweet kisses and romantic gestures were shared, while also being interrupted by your jealous K9 who seemed to only ever care about you when you were being loved. It was perfect. And only perfect because this was normal. It wasn’t a special thing for you two to be lovey dovey all night. Daily, endless words of love were shared. And it was your favorite thing in the relationship.

»»»

The next morning, you opened your eyes to see your bedside clock. 9:00 A.M. you slept in longer than usual, and the scratchy feeling in your throat explained why. Bursting into a fit of mini coughs and sniffles as your nose begins to run. Shit.

König ran out of the bathroom, a concerned look on his face. “Oh Gott. Maus, you’re sick.” a loud groan left your lips, sending more discomfort to your throat. “I’ll be back. You stay here. I’m going to go get medicine. Don’t move!” He quickly left the room, not giving you any chance to speak up and tune him down.

He was going to take care of you whether you liked it or not.

REQUESTS:: OPEN

» 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞 … 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧

[justyanle]

Karma is my Girlfriend

(Lo'ak x f!Reader)

Aonung and his group keeps on pestering you and the Sully's, what does Aonung possibly deserve?

Ever since you and Jake Sully's family moved to the Metkayina clan, Aonung and his peers have not done anything but bicker with the Sully children, specifically Kiri and Lo'ak for their differences that stood out from the family - hair above their large eyes that were phrased "eyebrows", followed by an additional toe and finger.

You weren't lying if you said you didn't find the uniqueness of the two Na'vi admirable, especially the boy you had grown to fall for. His reckless and carefree behaviour made you feel free every time you hung out with the handsome Sully boy you were crushing on, his hollowed cheeks more prominent when he talks, the smile that could beat a thousand fireflies in the dark, eyes that could be your source of light in a faint cave, the personality you seek for comfort and happiness.

He often let out teasingly romantic remarks such as "If we were ever mates, our children would look good," then simply taking it back with a "because their daddy is obviously smokin' hot, their mommy though, she's ehh." to obviously tease you in a flirtatious yet degrading manner.

You have been a close friend to every member of the Sully family, they loved and accepted you as an important figure to their family. The Sully couple took you under their wing when your parents have finally been at rest during battle, protecting the Sully family with their bodies, meeting Eywa's peace in the process.

The least they could do was protect you the way your parents protected the Sully's. You had sworn to follow your parents' actions to look out for the Sully family as well, which leads to this very moment.

You and Kiri have been having a chat while being on the shore, peacefully observing the small-scaled animals that were hidden under the layers of water and sand until Aonung and his flock of unfortunate-looking friends smugly arrived at the controlled scenery.

Aonung came closer to the two bodies laying on their bellies, just observing the sand looking at each other once the mini-sized animal was doing something eventful.

Aonung releases a cackle from his stomach, his lips quickly moving, "The hell are they doing?! Haha! Are you two some kind of.. freaks?" the faint sound that was faded due to the water made the two girls look up, curious on who was speaking.

"Huh? What did you say?" Kiri questioned as she cleaned up the water from her now puzzled face while [Y/N] just had a salty look on her face, already anticipating the teasing that will happen.

"He asked if you guys are freaks!" an earache replied to Kiri's question. [Y/N] and Kiri just scoff as they quickly trudge away from the emitting argument.

"Leave us alone!" You yelled at the group of Na'vi boys tormenting and touching at your body parts that were different from theirs. Trying to gently push Kiri away from the chaos happening so she could leave the scene sooner, not getting into a bigger problem until..

"HEY!" You hissed and swatted Aonung's hand that pulled your tail too hard, he chuckled halfway before a sudden stinging feeling has been planted on his cheek, the contact of your palm and his face releasing a loud "whack!" sound. That would definitely be a dark blue until tomorrow.

The shock on his face was brightly displayed before maneuvering his body that stumbled backwards due to the slap forward to you.

"Bitc-" He started, straightening his body and towering over you trying to put on a cover of being intimidating.

"Back off fish lips!" A booming voice was heard throughout the shore, the familiar Na'vi emerging from a place.

"Ohh! Another four-fingered freak!" Aonung's smirk once again finding a place on his horrid face.

Such names were voiced out once again. "Look at his little baby tail!" "Baby tail!" "Look at his tail!" "Awe, baby tail!" "It's so cute!"

"Leave us alone!" Kiri's voice was heard once again, trying to get the Metkayina boys to stop harassing the Omaticayan kids.

Then, the eldest Sully child had stopped from the waters that [Y/N] and Kiri were once in, shoving Aonung a way in a dominant manner.

"You heard what she said. Leave them alone." Neteyam said poking his pointer finger on Aonung's chest as a way of trying to tell him to flee.

"Ohh, big brother coming-" Aonung raised an arm at his peer, signalling him to keep quiet, Aonung could only look at Neteyam in amusement while he was practically threatening him.

"Back. Off. Now." Neteyam ordered, this time, poking harder at Aonung's chest. Aonung raised his arms in the air as a way of showing him surrendering. "Smart choice.. And from now on - I need you to respect my sister." He looks back at Aonung's group to make sure they're listening, one of Aonung's friends hissing back as a response.

Aonung raises his arm in front of his friend, trying to get him to stop. "Let's go." Neteyam said, ushering us to go with him and flee the problem that has hopefully finished escalating, Aonung and his friends going back to making fun of the Omaticayans that were now leaving the finished argument - though, a finished argument was what you wish actually happened until Lo'ak walked towards Aonung once again.

"Lo'ak come back!" You said, trying to keep the argument from escalating another time, you followed Lo'ak, standing beside him in case of anything worse erupting again. "I got this [Y/N]."

He raised his hand up to show Aonung, a clear view of his extra finger. "I know this hand is funny, look, I'm a freak, alien," the Metkayinan boys only chuckled, knowing they agreed to the boy's statement about himself "but it can do something really cool, watch," he started to use his other hand to guide the one he was just demonstrating "first up on the top, I'm gonna hold it real tight like this," he continued with his hand in the form of a fist "okay, then,"

A tight fist flew to Aonung's face with speed and power, punching him once making him stumble back, he lands another two more which makes him fully fall down on the grainy sand beside the salty waters beside him.

"It's called a lunch bitch, don't ever touch a Sully woman again." Lo'ak warned before getting into a fighting stance, unfortunately he was tackled down immediately a moment after.

"Shit.." You mutter as you glanced at Neteyam, who was visibly just as stunned as you are. You let out a sigh as you quickly rushed to the madness that was unfolding before you.

You speedily kicked the back of the knee of a guy that was pulling on Lo'ak's tail and made him land face first, pinning his hands behind his back as you grabbed a handful of his hair and repeatedly bobbed his head up and down into the sand, making sure he consumed and had his eyes engulfed in them.

You stood up once again pulling the other guy that was tugging on Lo'ak's tail by his queue and tightened your grip, considering his nervous system was in there. "RAH! THAT HURTS!" he yells out an ear bleeding yell, while you drag him away from Lo'ak so he could get a chance to fortunately stand up, you quickly shoved the boy you were dragging and straddled him, elbowing his face repeatedly in a pattern that left his eye a dark color with puffiness indulged, a nose that was bleeding like a murder scene and a burst lip that had probably popped from the pressure you gave.

Seeing Lo'ak in the corner of your eye, he was winning against Aonung, the sight of the two Sully brothers rocking the shit of two Metkayina boys into the next decade was a sight to laugh at - until, Aonung got back up again.

You wasted no time to get to your crush's side to pack a kick at Aonung's side, leading him to face the ground that he just stood up from, immediately on the floor again. Lo'ak chuckles at the sight of Aonung miserably failing to get up due to your repeated kicks on his back followed by another kick, this time from Lo'ak, the kick landing onto his gut.

The pattern of you and Lo'ak giving a hit at Aonung's body was going well until -

"STOP!"

Oh shit. That deep, booming, and awfully recognizable voice of the former Toruk Makto fills the area.

"What the hell were the three of you thinkin'?! That's the Olo'eyktan's son you were quarrelling with!"

Though, Lo'ak made the scolding less vulnerable with his oh so familiar touch that never failed to keep your mind basically gravitate down your heart. You and Lo'ak had always been hip to hip, or rather, skin to skin due to the close proximity you guys have always been having since you were children.

When you were younger, they were just simple taps, and nudges - growing older though, the touches became more frequent and electric, becoming hands holding and tight hugging. Anyone can see through the two of you like you were closets made of glass.

The feeling of your hands tangled with his four fingers was always an exciting feeling, his extra finger was there to keep your smaller hands warm.

When the lecture was over, the two of you were forced to apologize to Aonung and his friends.

Walking hand in hand out of the marui, you can't help but laugh at the conversation you two were remembering, getting reminded of the look on their faces.

"You should've seen his face when I slapped him, Lo'ak! Holy shit!" You giggled with your crush

"You should've seen it up close when he was getting punched! He looked so mad he seemed constipated!"

The two Na'vi laughed until a comfortable silence filled in the conversation you just had.

"Lo'ak?"

"Hm?"

"Sully woman?"

He felt his breath hitch in his chest, shocked by the slip up he was reminded by, the heat rising to his cheeks making it a deeper purple than it already was.

"I- Uh- You know, you're a Sully woman, we're best friends, yeah- I w-want to like, make you- uh-" his lips were forming into an "O" shape when you placed a honey-like kiss on his cheek.

You were giggling to practically yourself, the feeling in your stomach was like the feeling of watching the rising sunrise, like a seed that was once planted is now blossoming.

"Are you trying to ask me to be yours, Sully?"

"Hell yeah!" he yells, laughing between the sentence, he pulls your body onto his, "My Sully woman?"

"Definitely your Sully woman now."

As said, your both tight embraces of each other has led you two to a bittersweet kiss, plump and slightly chapped lips made contact, the kiss being more eventful than the beautiful sunset behind the figures.

You're still the most beautiful out of every sunsets and sunrises we see experience here. He thought.

BONUS

Aonung watched the sight from afar, clearly interested in the two's relationship.

"Damn, karma really hits you bad huh Aonung?" one of his friends stated, also looking at the young couple beneath the scenery.

"Shut up, it's not karma. How would it be karma?'

"Oh so you just don't consider it being karma when we got our asses clocked into another decade? THEN, you see your enemy smooching with the girl you find beautiful? That's karma, bro. She's like, the karma."

MY GOD I JUST PUSHED THIS OUT OF MY ASS BECAUSE THE LAST TIME I TRIED TO SAVE THIS I ACCIDENTALLY PRESSED DISCARD INSTEAD OF SAVE SO I HAD TO START ALL OVER AGAIN, I WAS FUCKING CRYING

reqs r open 😼😼😼

[fiveraccoonsinatrenchcoat]

Quiet My Fears (With The Touch Of Your Hand) Ch. 4

Steve Harrington x f!reader

Description: Robin doubles down and Steve's having nightmares, imagined and real.

Warnings: Language, Steve is extra sad in this one folks.

Word Count: 3635

Previous Chapter! - Next Chapter!

My Masterlist! - Series Masterlist!

Notes: I'm back! Everyone come collect your crumbs!

Summer heat enveloped Steve as he got out of the car into the garage, hot and soft on his skin after having sat in the harsh (though definitely welcomed) blow of the air conditioning during the drive back from the grocery store. He circled to the back of the vehicle, opening the trunk and deftly weaving his forearm through the loops of as many plastic bags as he could in one go; three on his right arm, three on his left, the final bag gripped in his non-dominant hand.

It wasn’t his parents' garage, he wasn’t sure whose it was, but the detail didn’t seem to hold any importance at the moment. 

The door to the house was unlocked, the residents home, so he carefully twisted the knob and inched inside. He winced as the bag containing the dozen eggs he’d bought bumped into the doorframe rather hard. He hoped the sliced cheddar cheese had taken the brunt of the whack.

“I’m home!” he called into the house and put the bags on the kitchen counter. He heard faint commotion coming from upstairs, followed by rapid footsteps.

“Oh, thank Christ,” you responded as you revealed yourself from behind the doorway to his right. It was most certainly you, though you seemed frazzled, and maybe a tad older than he thought you should look, though again, the detail seemed irrelevant. 

“What happened?” Steve questioned, concerned.

“Donny Dino has disappeared,” you explained. Steve seemed to grasp the severity of what you’ve just said, despite how silly it might sound to an outside observer.

“Not Donny Dino,” he proclaimed, a smile on his face despite the shake of his head.

“Do not laugh, this is a life or death situation!” you exclaimed, though you seemed to be suppressing a laugh of your own.

“It is not ‘life or death.’ It’s a stuffed Brachiosaurus.”

“A stuffed Brachiosaurus that our son loves more than both of us combined!” you declared. You moved across the tile floor to the other side of the kitchen, checking underneath the table as you went. “Why can’t these kinds of crises ever happen to you, huh? I go to the store, the kid sits happy as a goddamn clam, but the moment you leave, shit hits the fan!”

“We will find Donny Dino, alright?” Steve assured you. You bent down to look underneath the sofa, probably for the fourth or fifth time. “He’s here somewhere.”

“I know, it’s fine, but he’s panicked, and that always leaves me panicked, and-” you cut yourself off, straitening up and turning to look at Steve, when a small voice called with all its might;

“I found him!”

Another bout of quick, excited footsteps followed, a small boy bounding down the steps and stopping only just before ramming himself into Steve’s knees. Looking at him, with his own big baby deer eyes and the fluffy green dinosaur held tightly in his arms, Steve felt a swell of adoration bloom in his chest

“Where was he, buddy?” you asked as you scooped him up into your arms.

“Under the bed,” the boy explained very matter-of-factly.

“What?” you asked, deflating just a touch. “You told me you already looked there, little dude!”

“I didn’t see him the first time!” 

“Or the second time, or the third time, yeah, yeah,” you said, smiling as you walked into the kitchen with Steve following behind you. 

Steve worked quickly to get the groceries put away as you and the boy sat at the table pushed up against the windows, discussing the harrowing journey poor Donny Dino had to go through before finally being rescued from “the under the bed,” as the boy put it. Steve had just opened one of the cabinets, back turned towards the kitchen table, when a loud crack of thunder sounded, seemingly coming from nowhere. 

“That’s odd. Didn’t think it was supposed to rain today,” Steve said as he turned to look out the windows. The bright, sunny sky he had been under just a few minutes ago had darkened, turning a foreboding gray, filled with fat storm clouds and crackly lightning. A pit formed in his stomach; no, that’s not right, that can’t be right. 

“Steve?” you asked from behind him, voice small and unnaturally even, like you had to think out your words very carefully. 

You were standing now, and the boy in your arms had his face tucked into your neck. Steve was about to ask you what was wrong when big, horrible vines made themselves visible from behind you, wriggling and dripping with muck as they slowly, painfully slowly, began to intertwine around your neck, your ankles, your son.

“No,” Steve breathed out. “No!”

He ran, darted towards the two of you faster than he thought was possible. Not fast enough, though, as the vines ripped you backward into a thick black void behind you, sounds of your and your sons screaming mixing together into a horrible ring as you went flying away from-

Steve flew upright in bed, back stiff as a board. Not real, not real, it wasn’t real. His breathing was coming out strangely, though he couldn’t tell if it was too fast or not fast enough. Either way, he probably wasn’t getting the right amount of oxygen. He shut his eyes again, hard, and ghosted his hand to your side of the sheets to really, finally prove to himself that you’re okay, you’re asleep right next to him, and-

His hand was met by empty sheets.

Oh, god, what if it hadn’t actually been a nightmare? What if it had been real, and he had just forgotten? He threw himself out of the bed and scrambled out into the hall.

You were sitting at the end of the kitchen counter. The linoleum was raised above the rest of the surface there, and you were perched on one of the tall bar stools with a textbook laid out in front of you. 

“Are you alright?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” Steve supplied quickly. “Sorry, yeah. Just, uh, just a bad dream.”

“Your turn this time, huh?” you joked, though Steve was still reeling and could do little more than just nod his head and trudge over to you.

All of you still had upside down nightmares, though for the most part, they had steadily been slowing down, yours and Steve’s included. Unfortunately, however, yours had come back in full force over the last few months. Your doctor said it was fairly common; hormonal changes can result in very vivid and oftentimes upsetting dreams, she had explained. You’d been waking up screaming at odd hours of the night at least once a week for the past month and a half. It made Steve feel wildly guilty.

You greeted Steve with open arms and pulled him into the tightest hug you could manage from where you were sitting. His fingertips glided ever so delicately across your bump before his whole hand planted onto it. Still there. He had to double check.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked.

“No,” he answered.

“You sure? Might make you feel better.”

“Yes.” He pulled away from you and hopped up onto the seat next to yours. His eyes caught the time glowing on the face of the microwave. It read 5:02. “What are you doing up, anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you said. “Figured I might as well do something useful.”

You gestured down to the textbook on the counter. You had finals next week and, should you do as well as Steve knows you will, you would be graduating a month after that. 

“You want help?” Steve asked you. He picked up a stack of flashcards you had made.

“You should go back to bed,” you said, pulling the stack right out of Steve’s hands. It made him laugh.

“Only if you go with me, and I know you won’t, so let me help,” Steve insisted. You considered for a moment, and when Steve gave you some fantastic puppy dog eyes, you conceded.

“Fine.” You handed the stack back over to Steve, who accepted it with a dramatic flourish.

“Thank you. Okay, first question. I definitely don’t know this one,” he began. “John William Waterhouse is known for painting during which artistic movement?”

Come sunrise, you and Steve had powered through Art History, Women’s Studies, and American Literature. If the flashcards were anything to go by, you were going to pass each and every one of your finals with flying fuckin’ colors. 

Eight a.m. rolled around far too quickly for Steve’s liking, and as much as he would’ve loved to sit with you for the rest of the day, he had an opening shift he had to get to in an hour's time. 

Monday mornings at Family Video were about as dead as any store could get, but the completely full return bin kept him relatively busy once the doors were opened. Actually, if he timed the rest of the opening duties correctly, he could generally get through the day without having to do any real work at all. Usually, he would have been able to fill any extra time by chatting with Robin, but that seemed unlikely for today, if the scowl on her face from the other side of the front door told Steve anything. Keith had a matching disdainful look on his face as the pair came inside, though that wasn’t a surprise to anyone. 

Robin, of course, barrelled right past Steve into the break room without a word. He desperately wanted to follow her but knew he wouldn’t be able to say anything helpful. Keith stopped in front of him.

“I don’t know what the hell you did to her,” he remarked, voice as lifeless as ever, “but you really shat the bed on this one, huh?”

“I’m aware of that, thank you,” Steve muttered.

“Just felt like it was worth reminding you.” 

The rest of the day moved silently, and Steve was sure it would never, ever end. Three p.m. couldn’t get there fast enough. 

Keith, always on Robin’s side of any conflict (even the ones he knew absolutely nothing about), let her spend the majority of her shift doing paperwork in the office. That not only meant that Steve wasn’t able to get in a single word with her, but also that Keith was out front with him. All day long. He didn’t even get to sort through the returns like he wanted to; Keith commandeered that task pretty much immediately, leaving Steve to mindlessly walk circles around the store and pretend to look busy.

Steve spent most of the day weighing whether or not punching him in the face was worth his job.

Just past two o’clock, Robin poked her head out of the office, calling simply, “Keith! Come here for a second?” She retreated just as quickly as she had appeared.

“Watch the door,” he ordered as he rounded the desk. “And don’t touch my returns!”

Steve grumbled but did as he was told anyway. 

The pile of returns taunted him from the counter the whole time Keith was away. His organizational system didn’t even make any sense! Clearly, it wasn’t alphabetical, but it wasn’t by genre either, so-

“Harrington!” Steve jumped out of his skin at the sound of Keith calling his name, charging out of the back like a freight train. “What the hell did you do?”

“What?” Steve questioned.

“You did something!”

“And?”

“And, now I’m losing my best employee over whatever stupid bullshit you pulled!” Keith raved, slamming a piece of paper onto the counter. Steve turned his attention to it, eyes skimming across the words scribbled across the page in Robin’s chicken scratch handwriting. The only words his brain was really able to process were ‘two weeks’ notice’ and ‘last day’. 

“No, that can’t be right, she-”

“Everything was fine, and then you two got into this dumbshit fight, and you are fixing this!” Keith demanded.

“What do you want me to do?” Steve inquired. “She won’t listen to a word I say!”

“I want you to go into the office and make her stay!”

“But-”

“Office! Go!” Keith pointed towards the door.

Reluctantly, Steve left the counter and walked away. Behind him, he heard Keith call “You fucked with my tapes, didn’t you!”

Stalking through the short stockroom between rows of too-tall metal shelves, Steve felt like he was about to burst into tears. He stopped in front of the closed office door and read over Robin’s two weeks’ notice one more time before knocking on the door.

“It’s open,” Robin said through the wood. 

The office, and the stock room too, had no windows; the only light in either space came from the hissing fluorescent lights in the ceiling (it didn’t help that at least half of the bulbs had gone out, and Keith couldn’t ever remember to order more). It was always freezing back there, and the Spring heat mixed with the day’s forecast of pouring rain and dense, dark clouds, making the whole building humid to the point where there was condensation pooling on the cinder block walls. The whole back half of the place felt more like a cave than a building.

“You’re quitting?” Steve asked, holding the letter aloft. 

“The only reason I work here at all is because of you, idiot. And there’s no way you can keep working here now. I’m not gonna keep torturing myself here because of some delusional idea that you’re the same person,” Robin spat.

“What does that mean?” Steve asked. Hurt pooled behind his eyes and in his throat; he was worried he might choke on it. “I’m still me, I promise.”

“You lied to me for months.”

“And I’m sorry!” he lamented. “I should never have lied to you. I should have told you everything that was going on, from the very beginning! I was an idiot, but I was fucking scared, and-”

“I don’t really care, Steve!” Robin said. “You can be as sorry as you want to be, but that doesn’t change how much it hurts to know that you’d rather keep this shit from me than just fucking talk!”

Steve just stood there, mute.

“My last shift is next Monday. I’ll make sure Keith changes the schedule so we don’t have to see each other.” Robin stood up from the rickety old desk chair and quickly gathered up her belongings  from her locker.

“Wait, please don’t leave yet!” Steve pleaded. “Can we just talk about this?”

“Nope,” she spat out.

“Hold on, wait!” Steve chased after Robin as she darted towards the front door. Keith’s eyes followed the both of them. “Your shift doesn’t end ‘til four. Can we please just talk until then, at least?”

“Keith!” she blurted. “Can I leave early?”

“Are you still quitting?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then no,” Keith answered.

“See? Can’t leave yet,” Steve tried, desperate to get her to stay.

“Too bad,” Robin responded. She backed towards the door and called to Steve as she was pushing it open, sarcasm soaking her words, “ sure hope they don’t fire me.” 

Steve watched in silence as Robin unlocked her bike and peddled off, stormy winds whipping her hair and soaking her clothes.

“Great job,” Keith mocked. “I mean, really, that was a five star performance if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Fuck off,” Steve barked, walking passed the counter toward the stockroom door.

“Hey, you can’t talk to me like that!” Steve ignored Keith’s words as he gathered his own things to leave, his boss hot on his heels. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You definitely don’t get to leave, I need you to cover the rest of Robin’s shift!”

“I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure something out,” Steve huffed, pushing the door open and stomping to his car. He sped out of the parking lot with a squeal.

Steve thought, sometimes, that he felt all of his emotions much stronger than everyone else felt theirs. He must, right? The only other person he knew who cried as much as he did was you, and that was really only because you were pregnant, so in his head, it didn’t count. 

He used to despise it when he was younger; he thought there was something wrong with him, though that line of thinking was most likely his father’s doing; Steve was always too sensitive for his dad. By the time he was in high school, he had gotten very good at pushing it all down, down, down, into the recesses of his brain, where sadness could transform into anger, anger into aggression. 

He’d grown up a lot since then, but he’d naively assumed that becoming an adult would make his feelings easier to handle. Clearly, he had been wrong, and he felt just as powerless and small in the face of his emotions as he had when he was little. It all felt far too big for him to have to face all by himself.

And he really did have to face it by himself. He had you, but it was really more like you had him. It was his job to shoulder the brunt of the weight, and god, he wished more than anything in the world that he hadn’t pushed Robin away like he did. He desperately needed her to untangle everything he was feeling, to revel in the joy and quell his incessant worry about what he (well, really you) was experiencing.

He knew that it was his own damn fault that Robin was angry, and the feeling left a physical ache in his bones. It wasn’t the baby she was mad about (he really hoped it wasn’t, at least) it was Steve’s cowardice. The lying, the sneaking, the fact that he was too much of a pussy to just tell her the fucking truth! And even in the end, she still didn’t end up hearing it from him! Every bit of vile anger that Robin threw his way felt completely deserved.

Steve had lost his mother, and now his closest friend, and if it weren’t for you, he might not have had anyone left at all. 

He had calmed down some by the time he made it back home. The sound of fat raindrops colliding with the roof of the car provided Steve with the perfect white noise to fill up his head and drown out his pathetic self-pity before he could walk through your apartment door and worry you with any of it.

Steve shut the door, turned to face it, and dropped his forehead to the wood with a thud. He shut his eyes and sighed. He could feel the condensation from his breath build up and make the paint feel sticky. So far, he had fixed exactly nothing. 

“That you?” you called through the apartment. 

Steve sucked in a sharp breath and responded, “yeah.”

You appeared in the kitchen. Steve tried his hardest to put on a convincing smile.

“How was your day?” he asked you. The absolute last thing he wanted to talk about was his own. 

“Good. Yeah, good,” you responded. You were fidgeting with the odds and ends on the counter, like you were pretending to dust. You flitted through the room. “My, uhm, my mom called.”

“What?”

“Told me they aren’t going to fly out for my graduation, so I shouldn’t bother saving them any tickets,” you stated very matter-of-factly. 

“Seriously?” Steve asked, dumbfounded.

“Yep,” you chirped. You began wiping down the countertop with a wet rag.

“Did you tell her. . .” he trailed off. He was sure you would know what he meant.

“Yeah. I did.”

“What’d she say?”

“Nothing. She just hung up.”

Steve wanted to kill your mother. He wanted to kill her for the way she treated you, and he wanted to kill your father for the way he did nothing about it. This was by no means a new desire for him, but whatever anger he had felt towards them in the past paled in comparison to how he felt hearing what you had just told him.

Your mother had reached a new level of cruelty that made his blood absolutely boil.

After the “earthquakes,” they wanted to move away, out of state, and you didn’t want to follow them. You had already turned eighteen at that point, you were an adult; they couldn’t force you to go, but your mother took it personally and your father was too much of a pushover to go against her wishes in any way.

Things just never really went back to normal after that.

“Jesus, that’s,” was all he could think to say. “That’s awful.”

“Y’know, honestly,” you began. “I think it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked. The tone of your voice, the way you told him all of this as if it was no different from any other anecdote about your daily goings on, made him think it was very much not fine. 

“I am,” you said. “They don’t get to be half in half out of my life. Either they’re here, or they’re not here. It’s all or nothing, I’m not going to force them to love me if they don’t.”

“They do love you,” Steve insisted, though you only responded with a look that read as ‘are you fucking kidding me?’. 

“All or nothing,” you reiterated. “They have chosen ‘nothing.’ No good reason to pretend like they haven’t.”

Steve made his way over to where you were standing in front of the sink with your back turned to him. His hands met your sides in a wildly delicate touch, your name a whisper on his lips as they met your left temple. You turned around in his arms and he held you tightly as you cried.

Tiny Little Taglist: @sheisjoeschateau @hazydespair @damon-loves-pie @pariahsparadise @anislabonis-love @alexa4040 @starsforviolet @luvlexi-darling @palmtreesx3 @prestinalove

[ddejavvu]

i just read your fairy!reader and hotch fic and i couldn’t stop thinking about it bc the way you write is absolutely enchanting, so i’ve got to request: a fairy!reader x tangerine story?? potentially along the lines of him finding her after a job (maybe the person he killed had been keeping her captive) and she starts helping him on jobs or cleans him up after them and it gets super fluffy and cute?

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

--

There's a bleeding man panting a foot from your cage. He's staring down at your captor, or- your former captor now, the man's body lifeless as blood oozes from the cuts he'd obtained. There's another beside him, shorter, darker-skinned, and the crowbar he'd plucked off of the workbench to whack your captor with is still hanging from his limp grip.

"So that's it, then?" The shorter one glances up at the taller, and the taller man shrugs, "'Guess so. No one else we need to take care of?"

"Just the one," The shorter one assures him, and your heart races as you realize they're not going to see you, you have to make yourself known.

"Excuse me!" You shout, hoping your voice will be loud enough to carry over their heavy breathing. It works, they hear you, and both flinch violently as they turn and frantically scan for whatever noise they'd just heard.

"The fuck-" The taller man hisses, eyes wild and dangerous, "Who's there?"

"Tangerine," The shorter one spots you, eyes widening then narrowing in disbelief as he elbows his friend, pointing at you, "Look."

"What- What the fuck?" The taller man - Tangerine...? - finally sees you, flinching away and watching as your wings flutter aimlessly behind you, "Are you- what are you?"

"I'm a fairy," You gush, helpless and scared, "And- and that man was keeping me here, locked up." You point at your captor's dead body, "The keys are in his pocket, please- please help me, I- I'll starve if you don't! I promise I won't tell anyone I saw you, just- just please help."

Your eyes are brimming with miniscule, crystalline tears when you finish your please, and the shorter one bends slowly at the knees, keeping his eyes on you as he feels around the the keys.

"Yeah," He breathes, "Uh, yeah, we'll get you out. Tan," He can't stop staring at you, mouth slightly agape as he blindly shoves the keys at Tangerine, "You do it."

"Oh fuck me," Tangerine murmurs, "'Always has to be me, huh? Right, uh, fairy-"

"Y/N," You inform warily, hands wrapped around the bars of your cage, "I won't hurt you, I promise. Please let me out."

"Yeah, I've gotcha," Tangerine mumbles, squinting at the keyhole to your cage. The sound of the lock clicking is like music to your ears, and when the door swings open you can't help but lunge for Tangerine.

He lets out a scream so high-pitched that his friend honestly thinks it came from you for a moment, but you latch onto Tangerine's cheek, arms wrapped over his nose and around the back of his head to hug him for letting you go.

"Thank you," You gush just beside his ear, voice soft so that you don't deafen him. He relaxes when he realizes you're just hugging him, muscles slowly loosening where they'd been tight and stiff.

"Yeah," He breathes, mustache prickling against the skin of your leg, "Yeah, uh- fuck, okay, what are we gonna do with you?"

"Open the door," The man on the floor suggests, and Tangerine looks down at him bewildered.

"We can't just open the door, Lemon. What, so she can flutter out there and get hit by a semi-truck? I'm pretty sure fairies aren't supposed to live in the fucking city!"

There's a gruff rasp to Tangerine's voice at the end of his sentence, one that's accompanied by his eyes practically bulging out of his head as his neck tenses. You flutter down to his chest pocket, perching yourself on the hem of the fabric there and resting a hand on his stiff neck. He brings his chin to his chest in a quick flinch, but realizes you're trying to soothe him, and sends you a polite, but apprehensive smile.

"Okay! Okay, so what, then?" Lemon snaps, straightening up from where he'd been kneeling beside your captor's body, "You're just gonna take 'er home? Tuck her into your pocket? Feed her little crumbs of biscuit for breakfast, huh?"

A resolute frown etches its way over Tangerine's features, and you have a sneaking suspicion he's only agreeing to spite Lemon, "Yes. I am, for your information."

He glances down at you, stuffing a finger into his breast pocket and holding it open for you, "There y'go, love. Slide right in there, 'n you can come home with me 'till we get you back to wherever you came from."

"Thank you," You breathe, rushing to shimmy into Tangerine's breast pocket. It's warm there, it's nice, and it smells like him. You're a bit disappointed that he doesn't smell like oranges, but his scent is nice otherwise.

"You're insane," Lemon huffs, eyeing your contented expression as you settle in Tangerine's pocket, "You're gonna get investigated by the government or something. That's some Area 51 shit right there, Tan."

"The government is already looking for us," Tangerine scoffs, "A bunch of them are. This can't hurt."

"Can't hurt. Can't hurt!" Lemon throws his hands up, letting the crowbar clank to the ground after he hits his thigh, "That's what you always say. And every time, it fuckin' hurts!"

"Don't listen to 'im," Tangerine looks down at you, murmuring so that Lemon can continue on his rage-fueled tirade without interruption. Tangerine's face is much kinder when he looks at you than when he looks at Lemon, and you feel his soft features coaxing a smile out of your own, "You'll be nice and safe with me, love, I'll make sure of it."

[roughentumble]

oh, i forgot! i worked on this and finished it forever ago, in my notes app. i'd already uploaded a partially finished version, but i filled in the missing pieces, added some yennefer, and gave it an ending. @fangirleaconmigo had liked it the previous time around, so hopefully she likes this finished version! link here to the old version, in case you're curious what got added.

fic summary: geralt gets sent back in time to the dragon hunt, and makes changes at key points in the timeline to lead to a better future. he can't remember that he went back, or what choices he's supposed to make, he just gets vague feelings.

======

geralt wakes up in a daze.

there's something on the tip of his tongue-- like when you don't remember a dream, but you remember the shape of it. he fights to recall it, because it seems so big, so important, as the last strands slip through his fingers. his body wills him to stand up, and so he does, as if he could chase the fragments that way, but moving only seems to dislodge them further. he doesnt even recall falling asleep. he sees-- jaskier, a few feet away with his back to him, far enough he'd have to call out to be heard, and everything is hazy as he stumbles over, some sort of need he cant name thrumming under his skin. he could get angry about it, or-- or...

he places a hand on jaskier's shoulder, and jaskier whips around in surprise, blinking owlishly at him. he starts to say something, brow furrowed with concern and sympathy, but geralt cuts him off with a squeeze of his shoulder. "i think you were right. we should go to the coast."

concern gives way to joy, like the sun breaking through the clouds, lighting up his entire face. "you-- really? actually, you'd want that? what caused the change of heart, did you whack your head or something?" he waves his hand in dismissal, keeps speaking before geralt can interject. "doesn't matter, really, what matters is that you did. i'll pack my things right away, and we can load up dear old roach, and i can compose a stunning ballad out of this whole mess because i am a miracle worker, and-- oh you'll just /love/ the coast i'm /certain/ of it! fine wine and pearls and the salty sea stretching out forever over the horizon, and the sunsets, oh! to die for, truly!"

perhaps he did hit his head. there's dirt in his hair, more than usual, and he doesnt think he woke up in a bedroll... but he can't find it in himself to care. it all came out so easy, and something about it had felt right. he reaches out to take jaskier's hand in his own, and jaskier only trips over his words for a moment, glancing down at them in confusion, then smiling even brighter, if that was even possible. that feels right, too. in the same way he cant put his finger on. he'll examine it later, when he's a little more awake. for now he just pulls jaskier gently by the hand towards camp, so he can do that packing he was talking about.

they leave the mountain, and the cursed dragon hunt, behind, without much fanfare or a word to the others.

===========

he doesnt like the coast much, as it turns out. sand isnt great for poor roach's hooves, salt sticks in his long hair making it unmanagable, and the large swath of ocean in front of him makes him edgy in a way he doesnt want to put a name to, because geralt of rivia does not /do/ being afraid. it's all logic, is what it is, giant sea monsters lurk in those depths, and surely no witcher is equipped to deal with their likes. a certain healthy cautiousness makes sense, he reasons.

he likes jaskier at the coast, though.

happy and free, laughing, backlit by the sun, sand on his cheek and pants rolled up to the knee. fancy shoes dangling from his fingers.

/foolish bard/, he thinks, stepping closer, brushing away the sand, /foolish, silly little bard, never brings the proper footwear anywhere we go./ out loud he says "i'm in love with you."

he watches closely the play of emotions across jaskier's face, the joy morphing into shock, disbelief, mouth gawping open like a fish. in the next moment he's dropped those fancy shoes to grab geralt's head, yanking him down into a kiss that's equal parts frenzy and passion and finally coming home. they kiss until the water laps up to their ankles, arms tangled around each other.

the incoming waves claim just one of jaskier's fancy, impractical shoes, and he curses the sea, running into the water as if he could fish the thing out, or else batter the sea into compliance. geralt laughs, and laughs, and pulls jaskier from the salty sea to kiss him again, and again, and again, even as he complains about his lost shoe. "you'll be compensating me for that, witcher." he warns, shaking his finger.

"wouldn't have it any other way," geralt responds, breathless with joy, and jaskier sinks into his grip.

========

"i want you to come with me. to kaer morhen."

jaskier stares at him with open-mouth. it isnt an offer given lightly. even in all their years of on-again off-again, geralt never extended this particular invitation to yennefer. maybe he was too scared of being known, or too scared of being trapped in one place-- if things went sour when they couldnt just leave, would it go away for ever? she's gone away forever anyway, for all his clinging and carefully calculated space. she said no, and he found-- he found--

years he's spent, dragging his feet. years, and with jaskier it's so old and yet so new, and he's decided that he is sick of the waiting, of the right pace. he wants jaskier with him, now and always. "this winter, the two of us. up in the blue mountains."

jaskier is nodding before geralt can finish speaking, tears welling in his eyes. "i want that too, love. gods, you know i'd follow you anywhere." and then he laughs, free and joyful and it's the best sound geralt's ever heard in his life. jaskier reaches out, touches his cheek, like he's confirming this is real, and geralt leans into his space to press their foreheads together. inhales the scent of his tears mingled with pure joy, and it smells like the ocean.

=================

they keep heading south, because it isnt time to head north yet, and because geralt's got a feeling he'd really like to disprove. can't explain where it comes from, exactly, just that he feels a tug, senses a rumbling in the earth, hears whispers on the streets. he climbs the rocky outcropping while jaskier waits by roach, idle and bored. he wants to be wrong. wants it so badly he hasnt even shared his theory with jaskier. he looks out over the path below.

he is not wrong.

a sea of black and gold. cintra is the gateway to the rest of the north, and it's about to fall.

============

he tells jaskier to wait in the cintran marketplace. if this works, geralt will be able to meet him there without injury, or at least be able to send someone to fetch him. if it doesnt, he'll need to resort to drastic measures, which should put him in jaskier's path too. he's grateful for this decision when he ends up surrounded on all sides by calanthe's men-- he has no doubt jaskier would be able to extract himself from the danger as he always does, but he still doesnt like seeing it. he holds a knife to the throat of an old friend, and wonders why it feels familiar. wishes that it didnt.

when they fall through the portal, dodging calanthe's trap, jaskier is far enough away from their stall that he doesn't hear the commotion-- presumably, anyway. geralt wishes he could see him, just to confirm he was safe, confirm he actually made it, but he's too preoccupied to linger on the thought.

he's led through bullshit and lies, attempts to buck fate, but he can feel the tightening noose of destiny and knows its all pointless. he'll walk away with his child surprise, it's just a matter of whether that leaves him with a target on his back.

calanthe orders him gone, and eist escorts him.

"i remember when you honored the Law of Surprise. what changed?" geralt asks, needs to provoke something real out of one of them, desperately hopes for a chink in someone's armor.

"i had a granddaughter." eist throws at him blithely.

"so protect her." geralt says through gritted teeth. the conversation feels like one he's had a million times. "what if calanthe's wrong? what if they come and ciri is trapped?" he presses.

"i fight side by side with my queen." eist replies, unmoved.

"you put too much faith in that woman."

"well, you weren't there. after pavetta died, calanthe would wake up howling in the night. The Lioness, nearly broken." eist shakes his head, looking off in the distance as he relives the memory. geralt's temples throb, lips ghosting over the words along with him, wondering why the hell it's so familiar. "someone who's able to pull themselves out of that, they'll have my confidence till my final day."

geralt wants to scream. its not enough. it isnt enough. why do their minds never change?

"i need your promise you won't come back." eist says, and geralt pauses in the entryway, weighs his options.

it's so godsdamned familiar. and yet, he cant say anything but the truth. "if i hear ciri's in danger, you know i can't do that."

"i know."

the bars fall.

jaskier was shopping nearby. he hears the clatter, and comes running. its so like them-- somehow they always find each other.

he calls for geralt, running up to place his palms on the bars, face screwed up in fear and outrage.

guards close in, shouting at jaskier to step away from the prisoner, and geralt whips around to face eist. "dont hurt him." geralt pleads.

"he's your companion. a weasly little thing, there when you claimed the law of surprise in the first place. how do i know he wont try to break you out? or take the child surprise for you?" eist asks, and geralt's stomach plummets.

"you're a reasonable man, eist. i understand your commitment to calanthe, but jaskier hasnt done anything. he isn't bound to ciri by destiny, he has no claim to her. nilfgaard is nearly at the border, don't doom him by locking him in the dungeons when he's harmless." he grips the bars tighter, knuckles turning white from the strength of his grip.

eist looks considering, so geralt presses on. "please. as one old friend to another, he's just a bard. don't punish him for my folly."

"we were never old friends." eist disputes. "...but i dont see the harm one bard could cause." relief hits geralt like a tidal wave, and he lets out his breath in one big exhale. "i dont think i've ever seen you scared before." eist cuts a look at him, and his eyes seem to pierce through geralt. he steps closer to speak in a low tone. "nearly at the border, you say?"

geralt nods, trying to project just how seriously he means it. "i wouldnt lie about this."

eist thinks for another moment, then says "i'll get him a guest room in the castle."

geralt's knees nearly buckle with relief. a guest room he can move freely in, and the castle will be the most well-fortified place during the inevitable seige. jaskier has a chance of survival. "no!" he hears for behind him, and he whips around to stare at jaskier.

"no, geralt, i wont leave you! they cant imprison you, you havent done anything!" he presses, tears welling in his eyes. he knows what's coming as well as geralt does, and he stinks of fear. geralt walks to the other side of the small cell to grasp jaskier's hands through the bars.

"jaskier, it's alright. i'll be right where i need to be. it's destiny, remember? i just need to know you'll be safe while i do it." jaskier looks unconviced, but geralt squeezes his hands tighter. "promise me you'll stay in your room. promise you'll wait for me. /promise/."

jaskier blinks back tears. "i promise." he says, and geralt lets out another sigh of relief. he leans forward as jaskier does, foreheads as close to touching as the bars will let them.

"alright. let's go." eist says, and a guard finally steps forward to place a hand on jaskier's elbow. he looks geralt in the eye, shoulders squared, a silent promise that they'll see each other again.

geralt meets his gaze. and then he's taken away.

============

++++++++++++

"this is cirilla. ciri, this is--"

"ah-ah, let me do my own introductions, i get to say it so rarely, after all." he says, cutting geralt off and turning to ciri. his shoulders roll back, posture straightening, carrying himself with a sudden air of gravitas. "my name is julian alfred pancratz, viscount de lettenhove. graduate of oxenfurt, master of the seven liberal arts, and esteemed poet and minstrel, better known throughout the kingdoms as the famed bard jaskier. at your service." he bows deeply, a fluid, graceful movement, and when he comes back up he looks rather pleased with himself.

there's a beat of silence. "...my partner." geralt finishes his earlier statement, eyebrow raised and thoroughly unimpressed. ciri mostly just seems surprised. "don't worry, you get used to the chatter."

jaskier splutters, cheeks turning red in offense. "you! that was a perfectly lovely introduction, you

great big oaf, i dont know why i put up with you."

ciri giggles nervously, then claps a hand over her mouth, a much needed moment of levity for the young girl. it cant last forever, though. geralt says "we need to go to sodden hill."

"why?" ciri asks, dread filling her stomach at the thought of all that destruction, and geralt places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"i think yen is there and i need to find her." he explains, and jaskier rolls his eyes.

"always chasing the old witch," he says, with maybe an undercurrent of jealousy, insecurity. it's something geralt will need to address, but not now. not like this.

"come on, bard." he says as he mounts roach and pulls ciri up with him.

"oh, left to walk as always while she gets the royal treatment? just a simple, gruff 'come bard', like im some dog who'll heel for you, i see how it is. so much for partner." he says with a sniff, and ciri giggles again, still a little uncertain. geralt bites back a smile.

"you can walk the other way, if you please." he replies, and jaskier sputters once more.

they quiet as they reach the battlefield, empty but for destruction and corpses. jaskier holds his nose for the stench.

geralt steps away from them to speak to the first person he sees, a woman in obvious shell-shock, looking around as if she's lost everything. perhaps she has. she looks at and yet through geralt as he speaks to her, seeing him without seeing him. then she speaks, and all of jaskier's disdain falls away with a gasp, hand flying to his chest.

"yennefer is dead."

it hangs in the air, dampening sound, stilling the trees. yennefer is dead. she is no more.

geralt's heart pounds in his ears, and he has so much and so little that he wants to say. he opens his mouth, and then stops. feels so faint, blinks away the fog in his mind, as certainty overcomes him.

"no, she isnt." he says, and tissaia looks at him with such pity, like he's in shock. and he doesnt know why he said it, except that it feels true. he feels almost lightheaded, shaky on his feet, anchored only by his knowledge that yen is alive.

"we are bound by fate. i would feel it if she were dead," he says, and he doesnt know if that's true, but he knows the certainty, and has no other explanation for it. it makes something like hope flicker across tissaia's face, warring with the absolute desolation.

"it cant be," she says, unwilling to trust the words of a strange man she's never met, one who couldnt know

"i'll find her," he says. "we'll meet again."

===

"i'm sorry." jaskier says, his voice so quiet. ciri is uneasily asleep, and jaskier and geralt sit around a fire.

"there's nothing to be sorry for. we'll find her again." geralt says, because it has to be true. it feels true. it must... it must...

jaskier lays a hand on geralt's arm, his voice soft and sympathetic. "then im sorry she's missing." he says, even though he clearly doesnt believe it.

the jealousy and insecurity has bled away now that she's gone. now that he /thinks/ she's gone, anyway. "all our old fighting... it was all so petty. even up till the last--" he stops himself, changes tracks. "...it was all so pointless. i know i pulled you between two people you cared about very much. and im sorry for it."

"i never minded. not really, not the little stuff. you and yen wouldn't be yourselves if you didnt bicker." geralt says, and jaskier shoots him a wane smile. he leans in to kiss geralt's cheek.

"then i promise i'll find something to be catty about when we find her again." he says, tucking geralt's hair behind his ear. "just-- i know this insecurity is gauche, considering the circumstances of her... disappearance. but if we do see her again, you'll still pick me, right?"

"yennefer means very much to me. but now that i have you, you're it for me, jaskier. i promise." he leans in to kiss jaskier on the mouth, short and quick and still so emotional. "she's my destiny, but you're my choice."

jaskier lets out a shaky breath, and pulls geralt in for another kiss.

===========

"tell me, friend, who changed you."

geralt smiles to himself as he considers his answer. "yennefer. ciri." he pauses, looking over at his companion, currently fiddling with a tchochkey on a shelf. "...jaskier." said man turns around when he hears his name, then freezes as if caught, item still in hand. when he meets geralt's eyes, though, he smiles, and geralt smiles back.

"well, you've the girl and the bard. but where is this lovely lady yennefer?" he asks, and geralt's smile falls.

"...she's gone." he says, and jaskier's mouth twists.

"last we heard, she was dead." jaskier says gently, and geralt flinches. he still refuses to believe it.

"she isnt," geralt insists, "but... wherever she is, she's still lost to me. who knows where she's gone to lick her wounds."

there's silence for a moment, pity etched into nivellen's eyes. "...i am sorry." he says, and geralt nods. let him think what he likes. geralt knows better.

=========

+++++++++

eskel says that if he had a princess surprise he would fuck her, and geralt feels blind rage rising in his chest, overpowering his mind as he thinks to ciri, little ciri, broken ciri, /his/ ciri. a child.

eskel would never say that, geralt thinks to himself, the absolute wrongness of it all settling over him like a cloak. something in his chest urges him forward. he wants to take eskel aside and slap sense into him, wants to know what happened to his most trusted brother, his most beloved, his other half, but he feels that same faintness in his head. he's starting to notice it, but it doesnt want to be noticed, it leaves him foggy and confused.

a vague impression seats itself in his mind. it almost sounds like 'i should have...' but it's gone just as quickly. he moves as if in a dream, filling a tankard with white gull, dosing it with sedative hidden away from when they were boys, when they needed to subdue witchers for medical treatment in a full keep.

eskel takes the mug and drinks it so fast, drinks like he's trying to outrun something, drinks like there's horror nipping at his heels. he falls asleep at the table, and geralt volunteers to bring him back to his room. vesemir offers to help, and he has no excuse to turn him down when carrying a full grown witcher's weight is such an ordeal, though he sweats under the collar when eskel cant even drunkenly stumble between them, fully dead to the world. vesemir must know something is wrong. he must.

they get him to his room with a lot of grumbling but no real issues, throw him down on the bed. "he drank himself into quite the stupor," vesemir says with shrewd eyes, brow furrowed.

geralt doesnt know what to say. "what's going on here, geralt?" he asks, and geralt's stomach plummets.

"i have to-- i cant explain, i just have to--" he starts, struggling for the words. "something is wrong. he's hurt." vesemir sends him a look that screams 'duh'.

"so you drug him to work on him in secret? this isnt like you." vesemir says, and geralt gets the crazy urge to laugh, because it isnt like him, he doesnt know what the fuck he's doing, except that he /must/.

witchers are allowed to lick their wounds in private, theyre allowed to come home angry and changed. geralt pushed them all away after blaviken, and none of them held him down, forced him, none of them acted like the mages that made them. he feels sick.

"we have to. vesemir, we--" he starts, grabbing eskel's shirt and lifting it to look at the damage. vesemir holds out a hand to stop him, and then they both fall still with a gasp. there, in his chest, right above his heart, is a piece of embedded wood.

it's big, not like a splinter, maybe the size of a fist, with spindly roots that anchor it, spreading out like veins under the surrounding skin. it pulses, just a bit, and embedded within the center of it is something else, a chunk of rock that almost looks like obsidian. rock gives way to wood gives way to flesh.

"we have to get it out of him." geralt says suddenly, going for the knife at his hip.

"we don't even know what it is," vesemir says, though the disgust is plain on his face. "what if removing it kills him? it could be in too deep."

"and what, just let it grow? it's right above his heart, it'll kill him soon anyway. and it's /moving/." geralt says, and vesemir looks pained.

"...i'll keep him out using somne," vesemir says, "we need to get it out fast but careful. dont leave a single branch behind."

they nod to each other, and geralt heats up the knife using igni, lets the flames lick the blade, then he gets to work.

eskel screams in his sleep, fighting against the drugs, against vesemir's hold, the first touch of heated metal enough to make his whole body tense. the wood contracts, roots tightening visibly beneath his skin, and geralt grits his teeth. one by one he pries them out of his guildsman's flesh, the wood sizzling and popping when touched by the hot blade. blood streams down eskel's chest, and he screams again, whole body arching

the roots convulse in the open air, trying to return to the safe haven of his veins, only to be cut off and thrown to the floor. a new root tries to grow in the old one's place and geralt cauterizes the stump, pressing the flat of the knife to it to produce even louder sizzling. if the thing could scream it would be, and eskel convulses once just like the thing in his chest.

suddenly, footsteps. the other's had heard his screams. lambert bursts in, shouts "what the fuck's going on?!" and geralt shakes his head, knowing what a strange scene they make, how threatening he looks holding a red knife.

"there's no time!" he says.

"go get every healing potion in the keep, now!" vesemir shouts, struggling not to break his own concentration. there's stillness, and then some of the gathered witchers run to do as told, while the rest watch in silent horror

geralt gets his nails under the edges of the thing and begins to lift, eskel once more arching up to follow him. it moves agonizingly slow, tearing eskel's flesh as the bark is dragged past his delicate muscle tissue. it seems to go on and on as geralt pulls, and to his own horror, he realizes something. it isnt just growing out, it's growing down. down into him, down towards his heart.

sweat drips down vesemir's forehead from holding the sign so firmly and so long. the root on the bottom extends down into eskel's chest, down towards his heart. geralt has to act fast and careful all at once.

his knife wasnt made for cutting wood, but he pushes it between the lump and eskel's body anyway, carving away at the spot where the root connects to the whole. there's so much fucking blood, he can barely see, and he has to drag the knife back and forth to get even the tiniest bit of progress, utterly devoid of leverage or the proper teeth to dig into the plant's flesh. then, finally, with a twist of his wrist, he snaps the wood chunk free from the root, cauterizes it, and throws it to the floor. only one last step.

he pushes flesh aside and sees the root go down, wrapped firmly around a rib, and then...

his heart. beating. right out there in the open, skin and muscle shoved aside to make way for that /THING/. the root is wrapped around the heart, squeezing, causing his convusions, and geralt feels sick, but there's no time to stop or wait. vesemir's control is slipping. blood is flowing faster now.

his fingers slip through blood and fat and viscera and things meant to be kept inside as he tries to untwist the root from the shock-white of eskel's rib bone. it snaps, apparently brittle now that it's disconnected from the whole, and geralt throws another piece at his feet. his hands arent clean, arent washed, but there's no goddamn time, so he slides a finger down beside his other half's very heart and hooks the back of the root. pulls so slow, so careful.

it pops free with a spray of blood, and all falls still.

"g'r'lt?" comes slurred from the bed. "did th't come outta' me?" eskel asks, and then immediately falls unconcious once more.

vesemir slumps against the wall. "gwain, coen," he says, panting just a bit, "the pig we were keeping for meat? slaughter it. we need a skin graft, clean and quick. everard, merek, sutures and everything else we need to clean and bandage."

only lambert remains, pale and silent, staring at the floor where the pieces of now inert wood rest. time seems less linear, suddenly, and nobody has much clue how much of it passes. all they know is that lambert cleans up the pieces of foreign blood-soaked thing into a jar for safekeeping, and the supplies filter in. eskel gets healing daughts poured down his throat, and geralt keeps working to stitch his chest together with pig skin, wont let anyone else touch him. they both breathe easier once the final stitch is in place, and geralt steps back with shaking hands as the other witchers wipe down his skin, slather it in healing poultices, and cover him in bandages. geralt falls asleep on the floor, trembling, without the sense in his head to clean away his brother's blood.

when eskel wakes up, he thanks them. tells them his head felt wrong, something whispering in it, ever since that leshen got one lucky shot. says the leshen didnt look right, didnt act right, that he couldnt remember how to kill it once it embedded in his chest. "it's like it went to seed in him," vesemir says in horror, and everyone shakes their heads, and they dont know what to do. but eskel is there. he is weak, and he is bedridden, and he is /there/.

finally, kaer morhen can rest.

=========

vesemir doesnt think these flowers are the answer. he doesnt recognize them-- though if he knew every part of the formula, it wouldnt be lost to him as well. still, though, it doesnt sound right to his ear, even if he doesnt know as much about flora as one might if they'd dedicated their life to the study of it. he can imagine, though, being desperate enough to believe it. he thinks back to eskel, and how they'd almost lost him to such a stupid error. he feels the loss of their way of life, their traditions, weighing on his shoulders in a way he never thought he'd face in his lifetime.

the little scrap of paper in her hand is so innocuous. and even if it's wrong, or merely an approximation of what once was, he feels the need to keep it, to catalogue it, preserve it as he has everything else in the keep... even the unsavory ones. the metal rack so many boys died on, that countless others were changed in, /chained/ in, sitting in the basement like it's a coffee table. like it's nothing. like it isnt horrific.

but it's all he has. and it's what they needed.

his fingers curl around the paper. "how many other people know of this blossom? would be likely to put two and two together?" he asks.

"not many at all, i would imagine. even fewer would know how to apply the knowledge , or enough inner workings of witchers to make the leap. and it's only a theory, anyway, i cant confirm it as of yet." she replies, watching him closely.

their numbers, so weakened, so devastated. the continent is running out of monsters, but it hasnt run dry just yet-- witchers are still needed, and theyre dwindling. and yet...

he flicks his fingers, and the page goes up in flames. a little cast of igni, and suddenly the secret is unknown once more. "cant let anyone know how we're made-- sorcerers have been after the information for as long as there have been witcher schools. no telling what havoc they'd wreak across the continent if they had the recipe. and... there will be no more boys."

he looks at the ashes in his hand, and he aches in ways he doesnt have words for, for the life he had and the men he lost and all those boys. "i thank you for your diligence, and your offer," he says diplomatically, "but i urge you to forget what you've discovered, and tell no one. and if you do decide to divulge our secrets, then i can only pray your approximations were wrong."

she had looks surprised when the fire burst to life, but understanding settles across her features.

there will be no more potions. no more blood spilt for these old stones. and there will be no more boys. he never even mentions their clandestine conversation to ciri. she deserves her choices, but she's a traumatized child, and he's an adult. he doesnt need to burden her with this.

=====

+++++

"yennefer of vengerberg." jaskier says in awe. cant believe geralt was right. cant believe she's alive. "shouldve known you wouldnt stay dead, rotting necrophage that you are," he says, catty and mean and a little breathless because she's /alive/. but then her arms are around him, and she's hugging him so tight he can barely breathe, and he lets out a shocked grunt. "uh? hugging? you're hugging me, you do know you're hugging me, right?" he asks, mouth running faster in his confusion.

"oh jaskier," she says, "it's so good to see you."

"good. to see /me/. did you hit your head at sodden? is that where you've been all this time, wandering the countryside mindlessly?" he asks, and she snorts. snorts! like he's funny! which he is, but she's never admitted it before.

"oh how i miss when my problems were as small as a single sing-songy twit." she says fondly, taking him by the shoulders and leaning back to take a look at him.

"now i'll never admit to having said this, i'll deny it if you ever try to tell... but i am very glad you're not dead, yennefer." it comes out so damn soft, and for all their bickering it's hard not to be soft about someone you've known at least ten years. he cradles her arms in his palms, so they're both holding each other but at arm's length. "but i really must ask, where the hell have you been? we've been looking for you!"

"it's a long story," she says evasively, and he narrows his eyes.

"ah, well, if it's long then you certainly wouldnt want to tell it twice." he says, and leads her down the corridor, towards a closed door. "here," he says gently as he pushes it open, "i figure if you're here, you'd like to see geralt, too."

the room goes so still. "i knew," geralt says. "i knew we'd find each other." he says, and yennefer runs into his open arms for a hug, stress melting away as she tucks her face into his neck. for the first time in a long time, she feels /safe/.

jaskier watches them fondly, shoulder resting against the doorway. they'll have time for questions and answers. for now they can just be happy the world has a touch less death in it.

=======

"yen," he says gently. "im sorry for what i said. you would make an excellent mother."

yen's face does something complicated. "geralt--"

"ciri will need one." he says, and yen recoils in shock, to hear him offer it so plainly.

"so-- what, you want you and i to play house with your little orphan?" she asks, and it comes out harsh, but she doesnt take it back. geralt shakes his head.

"it wouldnt be like that. im... im with jaskier now." geralt replies, and that makes yen's eyebrows fly up in shock. "we wouldnt be... together like that. but we would be friends. partners. equals. i think it might be good for us, to take the heartache out of the equation. and ciri needs a teacher, someone like you. i think you'd be good for each other." he pauses, and when yen has nothing to say to that, he says "think about it."

she steps through a portal with ciri anyway. she sees him beg them not to leave, and she walks away anyway. but his offer rings in her head as loud as voleth meir's promises, and halfway to their destination yennefer brings them to a stop. ciri is so bright. so bright and beautiful, and with such great power, hair like geralt's and a heart like geralt's, so hurt and yet longing so deeply for love, and she looks at yennefer with such /trust/. so much trust, and she's leading this doe-eyed girl astray, what could be hers, what /should/ be hers, and yennefer is tired of sacrificing and sacrificing and sacrificing. she loves hard and she loves vicious and she loves selfishly, and when ciri demonstrates her powers yen thinks /my daughter did that. my. mine./

she thinks /you cannot have her,/ she thinks /you will not take this from me,/ she thinks, /i will no longer have no choice. i have a choice. i am making it./

and she turns on her heel and leads ciri in an entirely different direction. she leads ciri away from doom that ciri never even knew was hanging over her head. voleth meir screams, and she walks away anyway, down a road where she knows an equally angry geralt will find her. she only hopes she can talk him out of his rage before he sends her away.

====

"i want to know where yennefer of vengerberg is going." geralt says to codrinher and fenn. they look at each other, and then back at him.

"and you think we know this? we dont keep track of EVERY person on the continent, geralt." fenn replies

"i dont have time for games. i just need something, anything. where was she recently. she has--... someone very dear to me. and i must find them." geralt says, hands balled into fists.

they exchange a look. "we truly cant tell you her whereabouts. she hasnt been seen in quite a while. all that's known is that she was mumbling to herself last she was seen, before she vanished."

"what was she saying?" he presses, and codringer looks thoughtful.

"something like 'turn back to the forest, turn back to your mother'?" he says, scratching his chin.

"turn your back to the forest, hut hut. turn your front to me, hut hut." geralt says, understanding dawning on him.

"could be. our ears on the ground didnt hear it any clearer." fenn says, seemingly annoyed that there's information she doesnt know.

"i know where she's going " he says, throws a bag on coins on the table, and leaves as quick as he came.

===

geralt has his sword drawn before they even see him, terror lancing through him at the idea of ciri being taken to that being. ciri shouts with joy when she spots him, then with fear as he presses his sword to yen's throat. she lets him, no fight in her.

"i couldnt do it. i turned back. back to you." she swears, and geralt glances between the two of them, trying to assess if ciri is alright.

"geralt, what are you /doing/," she begs, looking so young and so frightened.

"what did she promise you? money? power?" geralt asks, betrayal running deep, burning him up inside, because he'd /trusted/ yen, and first chance she got she ran off with his child. /his/. to sacrifice her to something old and foul.

yen looks decimated. "...i cant be ciri's teacher. my magic... it's gone." yen says, and geralt startles at that. then she whispers, soft and broken and desperate, "geralt, she's in my head."

suddenly geralt sees her for what she is. someone very hurt, and very alone, who fought through the promises and manipulations of a demon to bring his daughter back to him. he slowly lowers his sword and pulls yennefer into an embrace. "we'll fix it." geralt promises

====

it doesnt get any easier to ignore voleth meir, but she looks around and sees kaer morhen, and the family that she's been welcomed into, and remembers that she's allowed to stay. that she has fought tooth and nail for every inch of her life until now, and she can keep fighting. that ciri is /hers/.

she teaches magic anyway, without demonstrations. it's hard for ciri, and it's hard for yen, but she isnt as worthless as she feared she'd be powerless. ciri looks up to her. ciri hugs her. ciri asks her hair be plaited for dinner. ciri is her choice, and she makes it every morning.

until one morning, it changes.

it starts small, just a creep, just a tickle. but she snaps her fingers, and a book by her bedside begins to float.

she'd burned herself out, ran her magic dry, scorched the channels it flowed through, but it healed. it came back with time. it was always going to come back with time.

she collapses to her knees and sobs, sobs like a child, for what has been returned to her.

and without her magic to tempt her, voleth meir loses her foothold in yennefer's mind. the whispers quiet and fade until theyre nothing but a memory.

and finally, yennefer is free.

=========

when geralt lays down that night, he dreams.

"ive found a djinn," yen says,

and geralt sees himself ask "another one?"

"except i wont try to tame this one." yen says, insists that it could be the answer to their problems. "we could keep ciri safe, teach her how to use her powers, if we phrase them just right the wishes could be the thing that saves us."

the scene changes. once more, he has a seal in his hand. "i wish i had the hindsight not to get into these problems anymore." he says, because he never makes the right choice.

the dream falls away with the sunlight streaming in, bright on his face. he looks down around him, at the little family he's created; jaskier by his side, ciri's head in his lap and feet near his face, yennefer asleep on a cot with her hand on ciri's. and he decides that this time he did make the right choice. he decides that he's happy.

[dangraccoon]

Warm

Week 3 ~ polar plunge ~ holiday cookies ~ *Domino Squad* ~

Word Count: 465 Content: flirting, kissing, neck kissing, making out, suggestive so 18+

@clone-wars-winter-challenge

Mando'a Guide: bas'ika - baby animal cyar'ad - lover sarad - flower cyar'ika - sweetheart di'kut - idiot

The oven dinged as it hit temperature, and you wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your arm. You smiled down at the dough that lay across your countertop, little shapes with crisp, clean lines, all ready for the oven.

You pushed the tray in and set the timer just in time to hear a loud clamoring at your door.

Your smile grew as the door slid open, revealing the five brothers you were hosting. They were bickering–you’d be more surprised if they weren’t–and covered in snow from their skiing expedition.

“Come on, Cutup,” Fives groaned, his arms wrapping around his brother’s neck, weight pulling them sideways. “Droidbait’s too bas’ika to do it–”

“I am not!” Droidbait protested.

“And if it’s just me and Fives,” Hevy continued. “It’ll just be two guys in a cold pond. You gotta, Cut!”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Cutup rolled his eyes. “When are we going?”

“Hello, cyar’ad,” Echo said, being the first to notice your presence and amused grin. He stepped forward, planting a kiss on your cheek. 

“Maker,” you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his face into your neck, ignoring your half-hearted attempts at batting him away. “You’re freezing!”

“That’s what happens when ya faceplant in the snow,” Cutup crowed, ruffling the thicket of curls atop Echo’s head, receiving a blind whack from Echo’s arm.

“So warm,” he murmured against that overly sensitive spot near your ear. “You gonna warm me up, cyar’ad?”

Even as his brothers piled into the living room, bickering over seats, Echo kept you in the entryway, pressed up against the wall as he kissed at your neck, reveling in the quickly heating skin.

“Somethin’ smells good, sarad,” Hevy called “Whatcha got for us this time?”

“Hmm?” you answered, your mind in a dizzy haze while Echo worked his icy hands beneath your sweater. You caught a glimpse of Fives from the corner of your eye.

“Stars,” Fives groaned as he ducked back around the corner. “Out here in front of the maker and everyone.”

“Ha!” Cutup cried. “‘I’m gonna get ‘im a cyar’ika’ didn’t you say?”

“Stow it, Cutup!” Fives mumbled.

“Yeah,” Droidbait smirked. “‘Gonna teach ‘im everything I know’–this is all your fault, Fives!”

Echo huffed, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “I’m gonna kill them,” he sighed. “I hate them.”

“No, you don’t,” you giggled. “Besides, they entertain me too much.”

As your boyfriend groaned again, you heard the other room fall too quiet.

You grinned wickedly at Echo, whose eyebrow quirked up.

“Fives! Hevy!” you called. “Touch those cookies and I’ll cut your hands off!”

You heard one smack the other. “Di’kut, you’re too loud!”

“How is it my fault if Echo’s cyar’ika’s got sonic hearing?”

« Previous Week Next Week »

Thanks for reading! - River

TCW Winter Spectacular Prompt Challenge Master List DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @padawancat97 @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[zenscrypt]

"keep counting (for patterns to repeat)"

read on ao3 here!

Rated: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Content Warning: suicidal ideation/thoughts

Summary:

The clicking footsteps he’s heard pause with another of Tallulah’s loud calls, and Etoiles squints, trying to see where she went--

Whack!

Ah. “Good left-click, Richas,” he jokes in lieu of a greeting. The egg punches him again, also in lieu of a greeting, before Etoiles’ hands are grabbed and carefully guided to the signs he’s placed.

[ TONTON can i propose a trade offer >:D ] [ we get llulah, you get EGGZA? ]

-- It's a quiet night on Quesadilla Island when Tallulah comes to visit her tío's cave for some training. Along the way, Etoiles gets more visitors.

Tallulah is not a fighter.

Quesadilla Island is not built for pacifists.

Purgatory especially was not. The feeling of an axe sitting in her paws was unfamiliar, unwieldy, even uncomfortable, makeshift and knobby because she made it herself at Dapper’s insistence. There were so many mobs -- so many summonings -- and she tried so hard to remember what her papa taught her, to mimic what Chay would do to protect her, to follow the words one of her tíos gave as advice. “Tallulah, when you’re sad, just kill mobs!”

Needless to say, Tallulah was really sad in purgatory. She wasn’t a fighter then, despite everything she went through, and still, she doesn’t think of herself as one now. But she wants to try.

“Tallulah? You don’t need to learn to fight, you are already amazing with your flowers?”

Emphasis on try.

It’s a quiet night when she joins Richar and Pomme on their late-night adventures. Not much happened with Tío Bad, thankfully, besides Richar insisting on breaking Bad’s machines consecutively to see if he would notice, and Pomme and Tallulah watching the chaos unfold. Bad shooed them off eventually after a goodbye with the ghosties; it was late enough Tallulah considered going to sleep, until Bad voiced his surprise of Tío Etoiles being awake at this hour. Pomme disappeared in a flash, as expected, and Richar asked Tallulah if she would stay up to hang out.

It wasn’t often Tallulah got to spend time with her tío. He seemed so busy nowadays, either sleeping through the week or completely gone from sight despite being online, which she wouldn’t want to interrupt. She doesn’t know how badly that code infection is impacting him either -- if it was the cause for him sleeping so much, or the reason she and her family never saw him as often, or if it did anything at all.

Turns out, he’s working on rebuilding his cave entrance when she agrees to come with Richar. Well -- Pomme is, Richar is helping her with the design, and Tío Etoiles is gathering whatever few supplies he can easily grind for. It reminded her of decorating the nest with herself, Chay, and Papa Phil.

It’s a little funny. Tío Etoiles really hasn’t changed, has he?

That brings her to this moment, adjusting the speaker block Pomme gave her. “Tallulah says,” the machine-voice in the block says, which grates Tallulah’s ears a bit as it says her own words, “i want to be a better fighter to defend myself tío, flowers can’t do that against withers :p”

Etoiles hums faintly. His inventory covers most of his face as he gathers more wood for the eggs, but she quietly watches the numbers of that warped scar glitch emerald skin into binary data. His eyes, sightless and cloudy-white, squint at each item he selects. There’s a pause between the items that takes… longer than normal. He doesn’t seem focused.

Tallulah can’t tear her eyes away from the code-infected scar. It’s-- is it a scar? It’s a strange shape that took his entire left arm. It’s infected, which is a more pressing worry. It goes into an eye. Is it impacting him that bad, that he looks so exhausted?

It’s pretty late, too; she asked him how he was, and he mentioned being unable to sleep but not having the energy to explore or do dungeons. Which… sounds like his chronic disease also, but…

Well, it reminds Tallulah of herself mostly. She’s stared at the ceiling of her papi’s house for so long she knows exactly how many blocks it takes up. She could recreate it with only her memory if she had the chance. Playing music only reminded her of how empty the house was, on really bad nights. Some nights, she thought the next day would never come.

She caught herself asking if she wanted it to, sometimes.

Maybe asking for fighting lessons wasn’t the right thing to do. It seemed like a good distraction, but she doesn’t want to force him to if he’s feeling the way she felt on bad nights. Guilt wells in her little eggshell -- did she mess up? He hasn’t responded yet--

“Tallulah,” Etoiles calls softly, stirring her out of her spiraling thoughts, “have you seen my dojo?”

Oh.

Oh!

Tallulah jumps to her feet in an instant, shaking her head rapidly. Maybe she didn’t mess up! Maybe her plan will work! Etoiles is pushing himself up to his feet as she bounces in place, chirping with excitement. When he gestures for her to follow him, she’s already scampering down the staircase to his cave.

---

Tallulah is a good fighter, Etoiles learns.

Flower picking is her strong suit, something better suited for her limited breath and less-than-sharp ears, but Phil must be teaching her well because she uses her height to her advantage. Her aim is impeccable too -- she’s quick to find the weaknesses in his armor and swings with enough force that Etoiles can actually feel the stick smacking into skin. Of course, she gets winded after each of her attacks and Etoiles backs away to give her space, quietly observing.

He does his best to deliver the pointers she seemingly asked for, which is shit because another sleepless night doing nothing but thinking means his English is starting to slip. He’s also missing his swings to give her a challenge, unable to focus long enough on stars and stardust to find where she’s at. He nearly trips on her on occasion, easily the most frustrating of this night. How can he not see a little egg in front of him?

During a moment where Tallulah’s breath starts to sound like a whistle, Etoiles calls for a break. “You did well,” he says, reaching over to pat her mushroom head. Inside her shell, her breath rattles, but she manages a wheezy chirp of satisfaction -- and then faceplants into the tatami mats. Etoiles huffs out a laugh.

“Pick yourself up, queen, you play so well! You can fuck up everyone in your path, no problem. You don’t need my help.” Which he means. He was just about as clumsy and shit as any regular mob on this island, and if he had no armor, he would’ve been dead. Her biggest issue is trying to do so many jumping attacks for critical damage, but if her threats are mobs, she’s perfect. Her form wasn’t even sloppy.

In the distance, he hears the sounds of teleportation and lifts his head to the dojo entrance.

While still face-down and breathing hard, Tallulah slaps a sign on the ground. Keeping his ears alert, Etoiles reaches to translate it. [ you were good target practice tho :D ]

More teleportation sounds go off. He grins at the sign. “Good target practice? Tallulah, I was shit and you know it. I was like- like that horse riding mob, Tallulah. A meature. You could’ve killed me no problem. If you had your flowers, I would be dead in one hit.”

Tallulah trills, and her blurry shape shifts back to a proper sitting position. She’s close enough that her eggshell brushes against his knee, bleeding warmth into his padded leggings. The next sign she places is directly in front of him. [ papa phil thinks roses are pretty strong ]

Does he? Etoiles scoffs, bumping his knee against her goodnaturedly. “Of course Felipe Minecraft knows this. To him, roses must do plus ten damages, and- and Pomme’s favorite flowers do twenty! Sunflowers do three, I know this because they’re a shit flower.”

That wins him another delighted trill and a keyboard smash of a sign, which he takes as a victory.

Faintly, he hears footsteps, clicking on his quartz floors. Richas and Pomme’s footsteps are quieter than that, but the fact that he can hear this visitor is reassuring. Whoever it is wouldn’t announce their presence so easily if they wanted to harm Tallulah.

He can barely see Tallulah’s stardust pattern next to him, so he doesn’t bother trying to figure out who this is. They’re approaching him anyway. He’ll find out soon enough.

To his left, there’s a gentle rattling noise -- a maraca, he registers, because Tallulah stops shaking it when he looks over. There’s a new sign she’s written, replacing the one in front of him, [ here tío, i think papa phil would want you to have this ]

In her extended paws sits something with a vibrant, rich red color.

A rose. Oh, of course -- what else could it have been? A stray thorn pricks his finger as he takes it, and his dark blood beads onto the soft, scarlet petals just before his body heals over the wound in the next half-second. He huffs out a quiet laugh, rotating the flower in his hand carefully. “This is for me, Tallulah?”

The purple of her mushroom head dips in an enthusiastic nod. It isn’t blue, and it’s not a cornflower, but Etoiles thinks it matches the collection Pomme’s been giving him in his backpack.

“Thank you, Tallulah,” he says solemnly, switching it to his off-hand to pat her bouncy helmet. “I’ll be the strongest warrior on the island with this.”

Tallulah bumps her head against his hand affectionately with a happy chirp. He can hear her tail wag just slightly, dragging on the mats underneath them, before it gives an audible thump. She trills loudly, sudden, and rocks up to her feet, bounding off and out of the dojo without another word. Etoiles blinks.

The clicking footsteps he’s heard pause with another of Tallulah’s loud calls, and Etoiles squints, trying to see where she went--

Whack!

Ah.

If the noisy, high-pitched chirps now ringing in his ears weren’t enough of an indicator of who’s here, the dark blue sign in front of him and hazy red blob of a cow head is. “Nice left-click, Richas,” Etoiles jokes in lieu of a greeting. The egg punches him again, also in lieu of a greeting, before Etoiles’ hands are grabbed more gently than the fast (and painless) punches and carefully guided to the signs he’s placed.

[ TONTON can i propose a trade offer >:D ] [ we get llulah, you get EGGZA? ]

Ah, that explains it. Phil’s here.

Well-- almost Philza. Tallulah and Ph-- Eggza are too far away for him to see, somewhere between his white floors and the distant, dark blackstone of his staircase entrance. “Richas, that is a shit trade, man,” he bemoans, tearing his eyes away but making sure his voice still carries through his cave, “why would I want that piece of shit egg? He doesn’t even have a shell! He- he doesn’t have flowers like Tallulah, and I’m a builder, Richas. I want flowers, not goats.”

It’s pointless to goad on Eggza, he knows, their usual banter tends to fall flat when it’s one-sided -- this man, this tryhard is so focused on grinding for shitty cookies instead of spending time with friends -- but like the grin on his lips, he can’t help himself. Richas lets out a squeaky laugh, reminding him of Pac’s laughter, and swats for his attention again. [ KKKKKKKK ] [ I don’t see any goats but YOU tonton >:D ]

“What!” Etoiles exclaims in mock-offense. “How could you say that, Richas? You’re standing right here?”

Whack. He’s learned, since telling Richas about his blindness, that the egg now communicates his head movements with more punches instead. Somehow, it works for them. Richas paces in front of him with that chirpy laughter before he finally breaks his sign and replaces it with a new one. [ how did llulahs training go??? ]

“She doesn’t need training, actually,” he says. Chayanne is the warrior between the two siblings -- Etoiles would know, constantly ribbing on the egg’s fighting style much to his dismay -- but when your dad is Felipe Minecraft, it makes sense to him that she would impress him so much. To not only fight, but be able to land precise hits when already struggling for breath is black-belt worthy to Etoiles, no stick fight required. “She already knows how to fight well, and I was just a, uh- a body for her to hit. She didn’t need my help.”

Was purgatory what changed her? Fighting to survive would do that, he thinks -- turn pacifists into keen-eyed warriors, even the ones that prefer flowers to weapons like Tallulah. He frowns and presses his thumb against one of the thorns on the rose. What a shitty life, to be forced to fight.

The eggs weren’t forced to fight each other, at least. They weren’t against Badboy and Toby Roblox at least -- or, really, any of their friends. Their siblings. They just had to survive, not compete, not win.

(Ever since that three-day-long dream he had of another purgatory, another chance to win, another fight to survive and kill both strangers and old comrades -- it felt like a dream to him. He hasn’t been sleeping well recently. When he closes his eyes, he dreams of radioactive water, of that brand on his hand staring back at him, of tearing into flesh with his swords and covered in blood and wanting more -- and then he wakes up on this shit island where nothing happens unless he’s unconscious.

Seriously. He sleeps an hour later than usual, and Phil is saying he missed the biggest fight of his lifetime, Empanada died, Tubbo’s armor is gone, Phil was knocked down-- he missed a fun fight because this shit island hates him and so does insomnia.)

Whack! [ so she kicked your ass?? 0_0 ] Richas’ sign says, jerking Etoiles out of his thoughts.

It’s not hard to kick my ass, he wants to say, just stay up until 4AM and log-in right at the spot to turn in your contracts to override all of my team’s hard work. His skin catches on the thorn. Phil’s geta click on quartz again, and Etoiles grins. “Richas, she destroyed me, man. She is- she’s a black belt in my dojo, I stood no chance. She took out this flower and I was on the floor instantly. Minus 70 damages.”

Following right after Phil’s geta are more tapping claws, which wheeze as the egg gets closer -- whack, Tallulah smacks Richas away, startling a bark of laughter from Etoiles. “Like that! See! She’s so cracked!”

His dojo quickly fills with the typical sounds of eggs bickering with each other, the occasional thump or whack of a playfight happening somewhere behind him. Etoiles tilts his head to find a familiar leathery-black mask staring down at him. “Hello, Eggza,” he hums, smiling wide enough to bare his teeth.

Phil makes a muffled, indistinct noise as Etoiles pushes himself up to his feet, and the dark wings behind him rustle quietly, shifting in place. “Are you here to collect your egg, Eggza?” he asks.

A quiet huff. “No?” He raises an eyebrow. Tallulah’s sing-song chirps sound victorious somewhere to his right with Richas’ indignant hisses following right after it. Pomme must’ve stayed at the cave entrance to focus on decorating. What was it Richas asked? “There are no cookies here, Phil. Have you come to my dojo to fight?”

Another huff, this time accentuated with a faint laugh-like noise. Etoiles exclaims in disbelief, “What? You come to my dojo and not want to fight, Felipe? Why the hell are you here then? To say ‘hello, mate’ and be the man that you are?”

Phil laughs that quiet noise again and then turns on his heel in a careful motion, eyeing the ground for a moment. Then-- Etoiles blinks when he hears the sound of… a sign being placed. Phil placed a sign? Curious, he peers around the silhouette of a wing and finds a dark green sign-- dark green?-- “Phil, my bro,” he exclaims, now genuinely incredulous, “you are not an egg? What are these signs? Did you make them just for you?” Sure, maybe that shade he’s never seen before could exist, alongside Gegg’s vibrant-green, but Phil using it?

Is this how deep it goes? he wonders, backing up to give Phil’s wings space. This state that he’s in, Etoiles has only came across Phil around the bakery at spawn, gathering cookies for his eggs -- but he knows Phil like this, too. At least, part of it.

Purgatory didn’t change just Tallulah, after all.

Phil’s wings healed during that time, and with it, something else inside him too. He was coherent in purgatory, though -- coherent enough to speak, stumbling over his bird-like noises to clarify what he was trying to say. Writing with signs is new. (He sees why Fit and Pac call him Eggza now, even if Phil is far from an egg in Etoiles’ eyes.)

How different is he, then? How much is intact since purgatory? His wings were broken from the flight carrying Tubbo, but they weren’t clipped, the Federation hasn’t intervened (yet), they aren’t small and weak and hidden like before the eggs disappeared.

An old itch begins to flare up. Phil’s changed. How far?

The shadows in front of him shift eventually, revealing what Phil’s written. [ can i not say hi to a friend? :> ]

Just as he stooped down to translate it, Etoiles is smacked by a small, fast-tapping paw. Phil’s also hit, eliciting a startled caw from the man and a chorus of tittering egg-laughs. Etoiles hums. “Yes, Richas?”

Richas guides his hand to the signs instead of smacking him again. [ pleasure doing business with you tonton o7 ] [ llulah n i will get back to work >:D ]

Oh, that’s what he asked. Etoiles didn’t even give him an answer -- and he considers complaining again, just to rib on Eggza some more, but instead he ruffles Richas’ cow head. “Okay, Richas,” he says. “Pomme is your leader, don’t forget that.”

Thump. He places another sign. [ don’t forget that ur the best tonton >:] ] Tallulah nudges Phil and chirps something beside Etoiles; Phil echoes it, the noise richer in response, unfamiliar to his ears. Maybe something referring to flock, if he guessed right.

With that, the two eggs head off, their claws scratching at quartz as they run.

Silence follows where Etoiles doesn’t fill it. Phil’s head is turned away, watching the eggs leave, and for a moment, Etoiles wishes he could see. Are there more feathers where there hasn’t been? What else has changed that he can’t see? How much is still Phil?

The elytrian shifts then, remembering himself and the sign he placed at his feet. Soundlessly, he breaks it manually, without an axe, just plucking it from the ground; Etoiles watches the sign disappear into his inventory.

“You come here to say hello,” he voices, catching Phil’s attention with the lilt in his voice, “except you’re writing with signs. You aren’t an egg, Phil. I know your voice, I know where you live -- I know what you are, Phil. You can speak to me, no? You trust me, right?”

It’s not avian-speak Phil makes -- it’s not the typical squawks and chirps Baghera made, nor the noises he catches the eggs making on occasion -- it’s Endspeak. An ancient language that can be disguised as avian, thanks to similar vocal chord structures, but it’s sharper, centered in the chest rather than the throat. If Phil isn’t capable of speech --

How far can he push?

“It’s okay, Phil,” he says quickly. The rose in his left hand is an afterthought as he searches for a stick. “You don’t need to say anything actually. No worries. How about we stick fight? 1v1? You come to my dojo, you should expect a fight, man.”

Unsurprisingly, Phil turns to place a sign again, and Etoiles lets him. Taps the stick he’s holding against his leg, slowly, counting. It can snap easily in his hands if he wanted it to. A clean snap right through the middle, showering the floor in splintering fragments. Phil steps away.

All the text-to-speech translation says is: [ bruh ].

Etoiles sputters -- partially amused by the simple response, the other-- “Bruh, he says, taking 70 years to type it! He can left-click but he can’t type four letters, what the hell? Felipe, my bro, you should know the rules of my dojo. You can’t ‘bruh’ my rules.”

Then, daring, he takes a step forward and smacks the stick against Phil’s leg, where he knows it is. The answering yelp sounds like a bark forced from his chest -- Etoiles grins, sharp. “Come, Phil! Just one fight. It’s all I ask of you.” Just one. One is fair, one is reasonable, one is all he wants. He has to see who this is.

Another sign is placed. Etoiles hums -- and jabs forward, hitting Phil somewhere in his flank. Phil flinches away with a startled hiss, sparks spitting. He takes a step back -- Etoiles matches him, letting his other hand (there’s a flower there?) brush against the sign to translate it as he passes.

[ not fighting you king, its too late ]

Too late, he says, as if they’re sleeping. Phil stops retreating, so he stops advancing, hitting the stick against his knee. He barely registers the pain. The shadows in front of him are massive, but he’s seen bigger -- seen them spread wider as he stood behind them, shielded from view, the rest of the team, Bolas, next to him. Where is it? “Phil, we are here, aren’t we? It won’t take long. You can win and I’ll stop.”

He waits for a sign to be placed, his grip holding the stick tighter. It hasn’t cracked yet, but he aches for the burn. Tap. tap. tap. Just one fight. Just one.

When he hears nothing, he takes another step forward. Phil remains in place. His geta don’t scuff on the dojo’s floors. If Etoiles focuses, he can see that leather-masked gaze holding his somewhere between growing darkness. Wider, wider, it spreads. There? Is that it?

The stick raises into the air.

Shadows flare.

And when a solid force collides into him and knocks him flat on his back, all Etoiles can feel is blinding victory. This is it. This has to be it. He just has to-- he has to fight back--

His weapon is gone. All he has is a- a stupid flower that doesn’t even have the same attack stat as a stick-- Phil’s weight keeps him firmly on the ground and staying there, talons burrowing into wrists and a heavy pressure on his stomach. He isn’t struggling. He can’t, he reasons, his arms are heavy and he can barely focus -- but he’s baring his teeth to the elytrian above him like he’s winning. “Wow!” he barks, something inside him thrashing when he cannot, “No stick fights, says Felipe, so he pins me down like an American! Like an American football star, okay. I see you, Felipe.”

Whatever noise he was expecting, he wasn’t thinking a- a croon, now so much louder than he expected, rumbling against his pinned body. A rubber beak nudges against his jawline, shutting Etoiles up instantly. It’s strange -- something wars inside his head, instincts vs. logic, with a clear loser. He cranes his neck up, further, to give Phil space.

Well? Phil won. Spoils go to the victor, after all.

Through the mask, Phil’s breath comes out in huffs against his neck, right at the sensitive-- vulnerable, weak, prime spot to notch a weapon-- junction of his neck. Something inside him thrills at the attention.

Distantly, Etoiles wonders how they must look. Is it just them in his dojo, in the darkness of Phil’s feathers, in the night sky gleaming with star-shaped flowers? Are Phil’s wings shadowing over him, shielding him from view, like the void enveloping him whole? Is he prey caught by an elytrian with its wings poised for flight against its back, about to be slaughtered?

Oh, what a way to die. Etoiles sinks into the embrace. Craves it. Part of Etoiles wants to beg -- he needs to see if Phil will do it. If Phil had the capacity to kill him. If Phil could give him a death he’ll finally be satisfied with.

Make me bleed, he prays.

Aloud, he whispers, barely audible even to himself, “Phil? Can I take off your mask?”

Phil pulls away only slightly, his breath fanning over Etoiles’ face. To his surprise, Phil chirps only a second later in the affirmative. When Etoiles reaches a freed hand to the buckles of the mask, Phil leans into his touch, rumbling quietly, contentedly.

Suddenly, Etoiles’ fingers are unsure, breath lodged in his throat, unseeing eyes squinting in concentration and, distantly, anticipation.

The mask is loose and slides into Etoiles’ hand. Carefully, he sets it to the side beside his head. Then, indulgent, desperate, he cranes his neck up and cups Phil’s jaw with the same hand.

Please, he begs. His lips stay shut.

He waits for the fangs. He waits for talons. He waits for the searing burn of pain to tear his throat open and let him bleed out inside his own home, in his dojo, in the arms of his captain.

If “Eggza” is his elytrian instincts repaired, then Etoiles aches to be his first blood.

Phil’s lips are soft, when they press against his.

…oh.

Of course.

A small laugh huffs against Phil’s lips -- because Etoiles should’ve expected this answer.

He hadn’t realized he asked. Or that Phil heard.

Still, he leans into the kiss, fitting his hand securely over Phil’s cheek to press deeper. It was light, Phil asking his own question in response; on any other day, Etoiles would push further, fight even harder for Phil to give him what he really wanted, but the elytrian above him lets out a coo so low it vibrates in his chest as he slots their lips together.

If Etoiles had any more fight left in him, he would insist he didn’t deserve this. Phil’s arm braces above his head somewhere, and talons run through his hair and against his scalp, and it’s so nice. There’s no yanking. No tearing. No fight he had to win. Just… being held and kissed.

So instead, he sighs and gives into the gentle, lapping waves of fluttering, midnight wings.

(Maybe I’m already bleeding, he thinks distantly. Just not the way he initially thought.)

Phil’s the one that parts first with a quiet hum. Etoiles takes in a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut to settle against the mats. His mind feels blissfully quiet for once.

A hand brushes down his face, pets his facial hair, runs across his lips. Etoiles lets it trail over him and feels proud that he only briefly wanted to be kissed again.

Pressure leans against his forehead, stirring his eyes open again. It’s habit to open them, obviously, because he already knows it’s Phil pressing their heads together, his nose slotting against Etoiles’. A trill follows, deep in Phil’s throat, that Etoiles recognizes faintly. He doesn’t know the exact translation, no matter how many times he’s heard Phil make it during purgatory, or to his eggs. He thinks it’s a name. A title, maybe. A declaration.

His chest is tight. Etoiles hums quietly. One day, he’ll figure out what it means.

Eventually, Phil takes mercy on him. With one final trill, he backs away fully, his weight disappearing from Etoiles’ body, and is gone before he even realizes it. The roof of his dojo is plain without the borders of void-coated feathers and golden hair. What a shame.

(What a shame -- that Phil left? Or that Phil didn’t kill him? He isn’t sure.)

As he laments, floating somewhere between the clouds and the night sky, he hears something sharp, quick -- a snap of fingers. Etoiles lifts his head.

Instead of grabbing his gas mask like what Etoiles expected, Phil stands over him with a black-tinted hand offered. Oh. He wants to help Etoiles up? A pleasant warmth sits in his chest like a gentle campfire, and with the snap comes reality.

“Oh, look at you, Felipe,” Etoiles says with a grin, breaking the silent air of his dojo. “Giving me your hand to pull me up like the goat that you are? Thank you, my bro.” He sits up and clasps his hand into Phil’s, letting the elytrian yank him up to his feet with a subtle flap of his wings.

It was a forceful tug alongside an amused chitter, enough that Etoiles has to catch himself before he crashed into Phil; that campfire crackles. It’s not the sun he looks it in spite of the warmth, but somehow, it makes it better. “Okay, Phil? You’re so strong? You have big biceps? You don’t need to flex on me, man, I already know you have a nice cock.”

And, because he can, he reaches for Phil’s face to kiss him again.

His advances are met with a scowl he feels against his lips and a firm swat of one heavy wing upside his head. “Oh, he hits me!” Etoiles shouts with a bark of laughter, ducking out of the way. “Felipe hits me because I gave him a kiss! So you won’t accept my affections either, Phil? Okay, man. Sorry. Your cock is shit, actually.”

Whack! Phil’s wings hit hard, what the hell? The next dodge he does skirts him around the elytrian, sidestepping shadows to stand next to Phil, away from any more wing-hits. Phil chitters louder, almost involuntarily; now it really sounds like his cawing laughter.

Etoiles’ laughing along with him. “Deserved, deserved.”

How could he be so stupid? Why would he ever think Phil would change, just like that, from purgatory? Tallulah still gives flowers, Pomme is still headstrong, Richas… hasn’t changed whatsoever, now that he thinks about it -- and, maybe, Etoiles himself hasn’t changed too. Phil hasn’t.

Phil is still the goat, and the man that won’t listen to his braindead desires of dying a cool death. Why did he ever beg the man to kill him? The thought sounds ridiculous the more he thinks about it.

Would it be legendary? Yes. Is it still something Etoiles wants to happen? Perhaps. Will he ever get it? No.

And he’s fine with that.

Thump. Etoiles blinks. A sign?

Phil turns around to look at him, standing in front with something in his hand and the sign placed by his feet. As Etoiles steps forward to translate it, he catches red in Phil’s dark hands. [ where did this rose come from? ]

Oh. “Tallulah gave it to me,” Etoiles says softly. I forgot it was in my hand, he adds to himself. “I hope it’s not broken?”

The red blur in Phil’s hands looks fine, but it’s hard to tell. Phil examines it with a quiet, contemplative noise for a moment. It’s only a flower, Etoiles catches himself thinking -- but it’s a rose, isn’t it? Roses are strong, Tallulah said. He thought maybe she meant it the same way Pomme means it, but… what about Phil?

A black hand raises to his face, bearing that red, red rose. It hesitates just in front of him, asking, and Etoiles stops himself from taking a step back. Instinctively, he tries to search for Phil’s eyes -- but-- Phil makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. The hand wavers.

It’s Phil, he reminds himself.

When he leans forward, into Phil’s hold, he feels the flower stem slide just above his ear. Talons briefly pinch his skin as Phil carefully adjusts the flower, tucking it underneath his eye-mask, securing it in place. The thorns are gone, as if they’ve been plucked off. All that’s left are the soft petals that brush against the side of Etoiles’ face.

When Etoiles finally gives in and leans down, he feels Phil coo against his lips.

(Flowers aren’t weapons, he knows this. They don't have to be. They shouldn’t be, not just for their shitty attack stats, but also because… it’s nice. A few flowers bloom in his hair on occasion, which Pomme loves for decorations -- and Antoine loves to pluck straight from his scalp -- and while he thinks the blooming is an annoyance, it’s only flowers. The flowers that his daughter loves.

Tallulah said roses are strong, and Phil believes they are, for whatever reason, even when he’s like this. Logically, it makes no sense, but…

Well. Etoiles doesn’t give a shit about the semantics now. Flowers can be powerful if Phil thinks so.)

---

Richarlyson’s feet have never moved faster than the way they do now -- and Tallulah has half the mind to join her in the sprint across Tío Etoiles’ cave. Chayanne is not going to like this when I tell him, she thinks, already imagining the horror in Chayanne’s shell.

[ off she goes ] Pomme writes with a sign that stops Tallulah in her tracks, rumbling in her shell with amusement.

Tallulah faceplants into the floor. [ on her way to ruin a sweet moment :’) ]

Yesyes, Pomme chirps in agreement and a comforting pat on Tallulah’s back, silly egg, silly sibling. With a huff, Tallulah stands back up in time for another wine-red sign to appear, and for Richar to make contact with her papa and tío. He’s accosting them as she expected, surrounding them in a myriad of signs, aggressive chirps, and plenty of punches for the both of them. [ oh well. im sure papa is feeling better now :D ]

Hopefully, he is, Tallulah thinks, but she has a feeling Tío Etoiles is. Beside him, Papa Phil looks content, fondly watching the two bicker with his face free from his silly bird mask. Etoiles takes Richar’s swatting in stride, backing away from him and complimenting his strikes just like when Tallulah was sparring with him.

Unlike that moment, though, Etoiles is grinning, not pensive, and he moves a little more sure on his feet, sidestepping and dodging each Richar blow. He looks… happier.

Tallulah eyes her papa again and rumbles, happy papa, happy, silly. He did that to Tío, she’s sure of it. If a spar wasn’t going to do it, and if Tallulah couldn’t, then she’s glad her papa did. Chayannechen can get defensive over Papa and Pa Missa’s relationship another day. She’s certain this was different, in any case.

Pomme mimics her noises warmly, rustling through her backpack to dig out a diary. Richar suddenly whirls to Phil and starts smacking him with enraged squeaks, causing him to yelp, dodging another attack. Whatever they’re talking about seems like fofoca, but Tío Etoiles doesn’t seem embarrassed, neither does Papa. She can see the rose in her tío’s hair too. Good.

Bomp, Pomme’s placing another sign, floating in the air where she sits. [ whats uncle phil doing here btw??? was he looking for you ? ]

Was he? If she’s being honest, Tallulah isn’t really sure. She left Papa Phil in Rosa’s Sanctuary, where he was half-draped across Missa’s sleeping body, and she wasn’t expecting him to be awake at this time. Even when he’s like this, Endspeaking more than normal, she figured it was too early for him to start gathering cookies. Did he know she was with her tíos and came to find her? Was he here for Etoiles? Was it pure luck, or curiosity, to come here?

She doesn’t know. He was fine, he had reassured her when he first appeared in the cave. Chay and Missa were safe still, but he didn’t elaborate any further than that. She has some guesses as to why her papa is here, like this, and even when he’s extra affectionate and gentle with her in this state, he still doesn’t like sharing his feelings. It wasn’t due to a lack of trust -- it’s just her papa being her papa.

It isn’t a bad thing. He wanted to see somebody here, to check in on them, and Tallulah finds it hard to get upset at her papa when he’s cooing and fawning over her and her siblings. Some nights can be too quiet sometimes.

Eventually, she settles with a simple, [ i think he wanted some company ].

Awake company, that is, at this hour of night. Once she's ready to go, she's sure he'll tag along with her back to the sanctuary for some proper sleep. Whether he woke up due to her absence or from a nightmare, she knows he's tired.

Tallulah thinks she’s earned sleep after this. Tío Etoiles especially deserves it.

[allyheart707]

1,000 Follower Special: The Big Escape Part 2

< - First

"Shhhh!!!" Donnie hissed at his brother who was once again giving away their location with his need to ask a billion badly timed questions.

".. But if she is a mutant, then why Is she working as a scientist? And why is she taking us outside... I thought Dr. Meanie-Pants said that wasn't allowed." ".... Why do you think we are hiding in a cupboard, bro. Clearly, he does not know about this." "WHA- I mean... whaatt? But won't she get fired for that?!" Donnie sighed and shushed him once more. If anyone had been in the room at that moment, their cover would already be blown. Thankfully, nobody has entered the room and nothing seemed to be happening yet. The alarms haven't eve-

RIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG

"Uh-oh." Mikey mumbled, cracking open the cupboards door just enough to peek outside. He let out a quiet squeak when Donnie whacked his hand away from the door, allowing it to close back up.

"... Are we going to get in trouble if they find us...?" Mikey whispered.

"Almost certainly." He whispered back as he attempted to wiggle his way into a more comfortable position and Mikey let out a worried hum.

Everything stopped when they heard the footsteps. Loud and rhythmic thumps of boots on the hard floors. Closer and closer until Donnie was sure that they would enter the employee lounge. If they did.... well, he knew it would only be a matter of time before they were found.

And then, the bootsteps began to fade. Both boys let out a sigh and they slumped against each other. Safe, for now.

What had to be minutes passed like this. The sound of sirens only being broken by the occasional stomping of boots and every time the boys would grow tense as they waited for them to eventually fade into the distance.

After ages of tense waiting and endless silence, the door slowly creaked open. Donnie held his breath, and grasped at his equally tense brothers hand.

"Boys, I found the best way out. It's time to go." May spoke softly into the room, and he could feel his brother melt against him in relief.

"Were in here!" Mikey whisper-shouted as he pushed open the door and shimmed his way out. Donne did the same, watching as Raph carefully made his way out from under the table (It was.... a very bad hiding spot) and Heishi landed with a small huff next to May-

Wait. How did he get on the ceiling?! Donnie opened his mouth to ask, when he was promptly cut off.

"Alright, stick close to me, okay?" She asked, grabbing Mikey's hand once more to make sure the littlest didn't fall behind.

She waited for everyone to give her a nod before finally sneaking back the way she came. Carefully she creaked open the door, peering out into the hallway which, from the lack of footsteps was probably empty. After checking both ways twice, she looked back to the turtles with a tight smile.

"Alright. Let's do this!" And with that, she took off from the room they were in and made a beeline for the next hall. Her head flicking back every few seconds to ensure that everyone was still following her. "Wh- HEY! STOP!" A voice sounded from down the hall making everyone gasp. Dr. Caspen was standing at the end of the hall, radio in hand. They were caught.

"We just need to make it to that door!" May shouted, pointing to a door that stood between them and the women in front of them.

May picked up Mikey and Raph took Donnies hand as they rushed to the door, Dr. Caspen closing in as she shouted for backup on her radio. They slammed open the door, all sliding in just seconds before the other scientist could follow. May shoved it closed with her whole body, keeping herself pressed against the door to ensure it wouldn't open back up.

The supply dock was a mess of action as people scrambled to and fro in a desperate attempt to clear everything from that days delivery out of the way of the doors in order to close them.

The lead scientist in charge of the whole operation was in the middle of this chaos, shouting orders at anyone and everyone he could.

"WERE ON LOCKDOWN, ALL DOORS NEED TO BE CLOSED! What are you guys DOING?!?" He shouted as people fumbled in their desperate attempt to follow orders.

Thanks to the loud chaos of multiple boots scrambling over the floor and his own yelling, it seems nobody noticed their own loud entrance, giving them just enough time to plan their way out of this mess.

The door was open, but there was about a dozen people in there way.

____

@maybelinefox

Ngl I ran out of time to go over and beta read this soooo please ignore any horrible mistakes I made in this until I can read it over and fix them tomorrow. Or, alternatively, feel free to comment them just please be nice, I have very low self esteem when it comes to my writing XD

[mamadoc]

Here’s a preview of the next chapter of my Chenford Fanfiction story. Enjoy!

With that Angela hung up the phone. “Wesley!” she hollered as loud as she dared to without waking up their toddler. “Come to the kitchen!”

He jogged in a minute later. “What’s wrong? They didn’t have the right milk?”

“No. The milk is fine,” she said pointing to the counter.

Wesley saw the grocery bags and started to load them all into the fridge. “So? What’s going on?”

“Tim is in love.”

“Tim? Tim Bradford? He broke up with that Barbie girl a few months ago, right? So, this is someone new?”

“Yeah. It’s the craziest story. He told me the beginning of the story when he was here on Christmas evening, but I think you were giving Jack a bath at the time. Anyway, he was in Denver with his sister and her kids, right? They ended up getting snowed in on Christmas Eve, and he met a woman at the airport. She lives here in LA, and they’ve seen each other every day since! You should have heard him on the phone. He’s totally smitten!” She whacked him on the chest to emphasize her point.

“Tim? Smitten?” he said, pulling the corners of his mouth into a frown and squinting his eyes. “Wow. I can’t imagine what that looks like.”

“I know, right? I told her that he has to bring her to the party on New Year’s Eve, so you’ll get to meet her then.” Then she curled up her lips into a devious smile. “But I am having lunch with her tomorrow, and Tim has no clue!” She cackled at the thought of it.

“Wait, you’re having lunch with her tomorrow? How?”

“That’s the best part of the story. He went all the way to Denver to meet a detective from North Hollywood!” Her mouth was agape in amazement at the coincidence of it all. “And Sergeant Caradine has been trying to recruit her to join our group with the other detectives retiring. He told me today that we’re meeting her for lunch tomorrow. Crazy, right?” Angela was blown away with how it was all coming together.

“Hold on a minute. A detective at North Hollywood? What’s her name?”

“Lucy Chen.”

“WHAT??!!” he said, his jaw practically on the floor. “Lucy Chen?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I know Lucy Chen. We met soon after I started with the DA. She used to date Chris Sanford from my office. I just helped her out yesterday with deal for someone who had information about some mall shooting.”

Now it was Angela’s turn to be shocked. “What? And you’ve been holding out on me?”

“For the record, I had no idea I was holding out on you.” He took a breath and said, “She has long, dark, wavy hair and brown eyes with a petite build. Maybe she’s part Asian based on her name? She’s very kind and compassionate. She seems to care a lot about the people who would otherwise be labeled ‘felons.’ We seem to have some shared beliefs about prosecuting the poor, underserved, and racial minorities. She’s very insightful and a deep thinker. And she always seems cheerful.”

“And she likes Tim?” Angela said, taking in all the information. “Huh.”

Read more here :