#yeah def drawing these give me a few business days

[madelynraemunson]

You can answer this privately, but a few weeks ago I was thinking about if Reader was trying to make Eddie jealous with the song I kissed a girl in the background making out with some girl on the stage you know. Or tryna make him want her more lol.

def need to catch up tho

ooooh a lil toxic lovin’ i see i see 😏💋 thank you for helping with the possessive!eddie dirty talk and reactions, my sweet.

from the CMWYW universe

timeline: shortly after chapter 013

𝐈 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐭 18+

a collaboration with @emsgoodthinkin 💌

modern!strip club owner!eddie x modern!fem!exotic dancer!hargrove reader

CW: jealous!eddie, wlw, possessive!eddie, boyfriend!eddie, biting, degrading kink, eddie calls us a slut lmao, bratty shy girl, dom!eddie, sub!shy girl, lmk if i miss anything

[WC: 2.0k]

“I just think you’re getting a little too into it.”

It’s crazy to think Eddie would draw the line at Gareth and not Steve. Yet here you two are, arguing in the dressing room mid-shift because Eddie realized his D&D friends — who are regulars at his D&D themed strip club — have eyes and money. 

“Babe, this is GARETH we’re talking about here,” you emphasize. “Gareth!”

You’re talking about the Gareth who’s gamer tag is ‘Gareth the “Gare Bear” Emerson’.  The same Gareth who still uses the bunny ear method to tie his shoes. The same Gareth who gets upset when his food touches. Aside from his now relatively toned build, clear skin, and knowledge on self-care and personal hygiene, Gareth Emerson is still the same guy. And that guy is a fucking dweeb.

“Yeah, but Gareth is conventionally attractive now,” your boyfriend points out. “And somebody who’s had no choice but to build their charm from the inside out is a dangerous person.”

Projecting, are we Munson? You think to yourself. You couldn’t believe the audacity of your boyfriend. Ever since you two became exclusive, Eddie has become extra protective of you. You didn’t mind it. You actually preferred it because it means he cares. But really, at work? The place you clock in every day (not only to see him but) to make a living?

“You left scratches on his back last time.”

“He paid me to make a girl jealous.”

“And let’s not forget whatever the fuck that was that you did with Creel,” Eddie adds refusing to hear you out. 

“Henry PAID me for a lap dance,” you hiss. “He was lonely, I was doing my job. He came in and spoiled me and your business on his off day, babe.”

The heat dissolves from Eddie’s cheeks when he hears his pet name. Albeit flattering, this conversation between you two wasn’t over just yet. 

Eddie knew what he saw. He knows that blank, fucked out stare from anywhere, and it was prominent when you were giving Henry a lap dance, using the crinkle of his pants to get yourself off.

There’s no arguing there. But you were single when that happened and Eddie at the time made it really seem like he didn’t want anything with you. None of this was taking away from how ridiculous Eddie was being.

“Okay,” you sigh, still choosing to honor his wishes. “No more dances for Gareth.”

“At least for tonight,” Eddie barters, issuing you a fake pout. “Feeling a little bit jealous, but I’ll get over it.”

Stay away from Gareth, or men in general tonight. You can definitely do that. 

Eddie’s a happy camper now. He watches as you do your thing at Vecna’s Lair, cock twitching eagerly in his pants as you swing down the pole and sink your pelvis onto the stage. The men douse you in ones, fives, tens, twenties. And you let it rain down on you with ease. 

But why is Eddie still so jealous? He can’t help but turn green with envy when he sees you smile at your patrons. When you lock eyes with them as you speak. And the way they gravitate towards you and your pheromones like some magnets on a fridge. 

You seem to be unbothered by everything, unbothered by his presence in a room full of other gentlemen. Eddie needs to test the waters. Eddie needs to know you care.

So he decides to grab a beer and approach the first customer of the opposite sex who happens to spiral into his periphery. It happens to be good ol’ Stephanie tonight. 

A regular during the beginning days of the week, this kind hearted, very approachable redhead welcomes Hellfire’s owner with a smile, offering her beer bottle to Eddie for him to give her a clink, hello. 

“Hey!” he chimes. “How uh, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing well, and yourself?”

Eddie grins. “Not too shabby.” 

Performatively studying her with his eyes, he decides to ask her an innuendo-filled question. “You enjoying yourself tonight?”

“What’s it to ya?”

“I always like to make sure my customers are satisfied.”

Her brow does a fruitful quirk upwards.

“So you’re the owner huh? Already so young and successful. That’s quite impressive.” 

“D’aww,” your boyfriend’s hands clutch his chest. “I appreciate that.” 

You can’t help but look over, stomach warped into knots.

Eddie told you to stay away from guys. So why is he flirting with a girl? Specifically a customer you’ve interacted with before. Not that Eddie would know that, since he’s always in his office when Stephanie is here.

Eddie knows you see him now and that’s all the satisfaction he needs. Knowing he got the reaction he wanted, he excuses himself from Steph, strutting back over to his office to disappear for a while and let your mind wander.

But your mind is already two steps ahead. When Stephanie catches a glimpse of you, her eyes sparkle. You wave her over.

“You just keep coming back for more, don’t you?” you infer as she strides towards you. 

Stephanie chuckles. “You just can’t seem to keep me away, Shy Girl. I owe Vicky and Robin one for putting me onto this joint.”

You swing your legs over so you can divert your attention to your stunning regular. She seems to be receptive to your flirtatious nature. And conveniently, the DJ transitions into a very fitting song:

“How are you doing tonight?” you assess her.

Stephanie shrugs. “I’m doing okay. The chick I was telling you about last week stood me up. So I’m here just trying to make myself feel better.”

“OMG I’m so sorry dude.”

But she brushes it off. “It’s okay. The loneliness will die down. I just gotta feel sorry for myself first.”

You rest a consoling hand on your shoulder. Before becoming exclusive with Eddie, you knew the feeling of rejection all too well. 

“You’re welcome here anytime. Even if you just wanna talk. Girl to girl, we can even do a private room for an hour.”

Just then, Stephanie reaches into her bra and pulls out a twenty dollar bill with the smuggest look on her face. 

“What about center stage? You tryna kiss it all better?”

You could’ve… and would’ve done it without the money. But knowing Eddie is in for the plot twist of his lifetime, you’ve rendered the deal priceless. Happily obliging, you accept the money Stephanie insists you take from her and extend your arms out.

“Bring it in, chica.”

It’s not what I’m used to. Just wanna try you on. I’m curious for you…

And then it happens. It starts with a timid smack of the lips to feel out both your comfort levels. The feeling of safety and trust propels you both further into realms of intensity you wouldn’t have thought of exploring with one another before. She tastes of cherry, with a hint of minty coconut. 

You let out a satisfied hum. It registers as a vibration against her full, vivacious chest. Dancing your fingers in her wavy hair now, you pull her closer to your chest as your lips lock in tandem. 

“WHEW!” you can hear Argyle shout all the way from the kitchen. “GAH DAMN!”

…I kissed a girl and I liked it. The taste of her cherry chapstick…

The uproar creates a chain reaction and soon all the gentlemen at Hellfire are hooting and hollering at the relatively unscripted act of affection in front of them. Soon, the money follows. Grinding your hips against her torso now, you chase the feeling of self-indulgence as you unravel yourself onto Stephanie. Right in time for Eddie to see.

I kissed a girl just to try it. I hope my boyfriend don’t mind it.

Floored, confused, and just a tad aroused, your man stands at the foot of Vecna’s Lair with his hands curling at his sides.

It felt so wrong. It felt so right. Don’t mean I’m in love tonight.

His stiff cock protrudes at the posterior ends of his zipper, boxer briefs shamefully laced with the salty spouts of his leaky tip. Fuck, he’s so hard. But still, oh so very pissed.

I kissed a girl and I liked it. I liked it.

Standing where you knew he’d be, you shoot him a wink, letting him know that you’re well aware of his foiled plan. And after you and Stephanie thank one another for each other’s time, you prance off to the dressing room with mountains of bills in your hands.

———

“You think Eddie’s gonna like this green set?”

There’s an itch to burn the cash you got tonight, so you find yourself browsing the internet for lingerie on your phone.

“Oooh,” Nina coos in approval. “Yes girl. You’re gonna look like a sexy dragon of sorts.”

“Mm. And what about this g-string?”

“Yes, get it. I have the same one and it’s so flattering and comfortable. Look!”

Just then the door shoots open.

“Eddie, what the hell?!” Nina shrieks, quickly donning her cloak to cover up. “Knocking, fucker. Ever heard of it?”

You turn towards the entrance to find your flustered man at the door, scowling at you briefly before turning to apologize to Nina.

“Sorry, Neens,” his gaze softens sincerely. But Nina is already storming out. “I was dumb for that.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you tsk.

You two wait until your colleague is out of range to engage in what you both know is about to be some pretty reckless behavior. When all is clear, Eddie wastes no time, pouncing on you, pinning you by the wrists to the drawer of your vanity, leaving love bites at the crook of your neck just keen enough to draw blood. 

Pathetically, you love it. Your dripping cunt swells for the intensity — the fury of his rough hands — the vampiric blows to your hot pulse points — the rugged buckling of his hips as he digs his claws into the tender indents of yours.

“Eddie…” you whimper.

“This familiar?” he demands between breaths. 

“Rings a bell,” you muster, tracing his large display of excitement with your trembling palm. “Though it seems like you don’t necessarily…have a problem with it.”

A sinister laugh escapes his throat.

Eddie huffs. “Think you can be a smart aleck with me without repercussions?”

As swift as they come, Eddie flips you around, easing you safely onto the desk portion of your vanity by the your neck. You squirm around like a brat, whining and kicking at him with your heels in playful retaliation. His fingertips then tightly enclose around your thin lacy bralette, causing a minor tear of the sparkly chrome fabric.

Too far. Grabbing him by the wrist, you eye him in disapproval.

“Eds!” you hiss at him, seriously this time.

“You’re buying new sets anyways,” he shrugs indifferently. “You know, with the money you got for being a needy little slut.”

You issue a low grumble as Eddie sinks his body atop the small of your back. The softness in Eddie returns again when he presses delicate kisses around the tip of your chin.

“Mine, remember?”

He spins you around again, ordering you to your knees with an authoritative snap. You oblige a little too quickly, but you don’t care. You’re at the mercy of him tonight and always.

“Yours…” you breathe, knowing he’s about to fuck you and your mouth to spit and tears. “Yours only…”

He smirks, satisfied with himself. You bite your lip eagerly as you watch the King of Hellfire — and your heart — unbuckle his belt, ushering his pants down to line his pulsing cock up against your lips. Desperate for more already, your tongue peaks out to say hello. The deep lines of his snarky face concave further.

“Pucker up, sweetheart.”

💞 valentine’s divider by @saradika-graphics 💞

happy valentine’s day, sweethearts 💌

tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @mediocredreams , @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @lindseyj23, @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @justinelittlewoodsworld , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay

[hufflepuffhollander]

off limits: tom holland one-shot

a/n | this is my submission for @chloecreatesfictions’ 1k writing challenge! i’ve never done the “brother’s best friend” trope and i def got a little too excited and carried away! real talk, this might be the cutest thing i’ve ever written

summary | as harrison osterfield’s younger sister, you’d always just seen his best friend tom as an annoying older brother. until, one day, you didn’t.

cw | tom x osterfield!reader. contains language, alcohol, recreational use of weeeed, teenage angst, sexual tension, fluff n’ stuff. 5k words.

For as long as you could remember, Tom Holland had been a stitch in your side that you could never get rid of.

Growing up as your older brother’s best friend, he was always at your house when you were children— and his favorite pastime when Harrison was boring him was to break into your room and mess with you, stealing your toys or running his hands across the piano keys when you were trying to practice in peace. No matter how many locks you put on your door just to keep Tom out, he was always able to pick them.

As you all got older, he grew to annoy you in a different way, blasting loud, grungy music through Harrison’s bedroom walls late at night or eating things out of the fridge that clearly had your name on them. Once he’d started to garner some attention as an actor, his ego skyrocketed, and somehow he became an even bigger nuisance. He dragged Harrison away from you and took him all over the world while you had to sit idly by and love your brother from a distance.

When Tom would come over now, he would talk of nothing but hollywood parties and getting drunk with the biggest a-listers when he knew you were listening. He would ignore you when he breezed past you in the hallway, and even had the audacity to go into your bedroom when you were out and smoke a blunt on your bed so your whole room smelled like a music festival when you got home; and worst of all, it was your weed.

It was sufficient to say you were Tom Holland’s least enthusiastic fan. And it was rather unfortunate, because you were a big stan of the MCU—and secretly loved getting high and watching and re-watching the spider-man movies the most. Okay, don’t make that face. They have a good storyline.

It was a regular Friday night, you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone while Harrison and Tom were getting ready to go pub hopping. Harrison always invited you, but you never took him up on his offer because you knew how flirty you got with alcohol in your system and wouldn’t dare feel that way around Tom. He was notorious for taking anything nice you said about him and rubbing it in your face for at least a week after. 

“You know you secretly love me, babe.”

You hated when he called you babe, and he knew it. But since you’d both grown up, time had done you both a favor, and there was always an air of something you couldn’t quite place your finger on whenever you interacted...the pet name just made it more interesting.

“Hey, y/n, are you sure you don’t want to come out with us?” Harrison yelled from outside your bedroom door, and you peeked your head out to respond.

“Nah, it’s fine, Haz, go have fun. I have enough uni work to keep me busy.”

“It’s a Friday night, nerd.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and smiled. “Sorry I’m not a budding alcoholic like you, big bro.”

He laughed, blew you a kiss, and he and Tom were off.

Only about an hour later, you decided to take a break from studying and light up a joint, turning on your go-to movie for background noise- but were snapped out of your vibey trance when you heard the front door swing open, and your brother’s loud, drunk voice.

“W-why are we h-home, you div,” he slurred, as his heavy footsteps start to climb the stairs. After a long moment, you heard him collapse on his bed through your thin walls, still stammering out his words. “Thomas, I promise you, I am fineeee...”

“Mate, you’re sloshed. Go to bed.”

You decided to leave them be. This was a typical occurrence- one of the boys went too hard too early, and the other had to babysit until they made it home to pass out cold, usually on the bed, or the couch, or on a good day, the floor.

A few minutes passed while you hotboxed your room, feeling amazingly relaxed, until you saw your doorknob wriggling out of the corner of your eye. Your door was locked, so you ignored it. But the knob kept twisting and falling back in place, making the whole frame shake. After a long while of witnessing a ghost try to make its way into your room, you watched your lock turn slowly and click out of place, the door creaking opened to reveal Tom, swatting at the air when a cloud of smoke greeted him.

You snapped your laptop closed before he could hear his own voice flowing out of your speakers. “Tom, for the last time, stop picking my fucking lock!” You beamed your nearest pillow at him—which he caught before it struck him—and he threw it back, hitting you square in the face. Of course.

He flashed a cocky smile. “Why? It’s so easy.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious! I could’ve been naked or something!”

He just stood in the doorframe, giving you a once-over in your thin cotton t-shirt and yoga pants, and kept that smug expression locked on his face. 

“Ew, Tom, you’re disgusting. Get out.”

He decidedly did not get out, instead closing the door behind him and hopping up next to you on your bed, the divot in your mattress leaving your bodies pressed much too close together. You were met with a strong whiff of his cologne and the gin he must’ve been drinking earlier. “I’ll take that,” he muttered as he lifted your joint out of your fingers and took a puff, sucking his breath in as his lungs filled. 

Your stomach filled with a dull fire and you narrowed your eyes. “Do you mind?”

He turned to face you and blew a big puff of smoke directly into your face, the notorious smirk making its reappearance. “Not at all, thanks for asking though.”

You groaned aloud. “What are you doing in here?” he took another draw and handed you back what was rightfully yours, smoke dissipating from his mouth as he spoke.

“Haz is pissed and I’m bored.”

You relit the bud and inhaled for a long while, figuring you’d need to be pretty intoxicated to not smack him in the face if he tried to talk again. “Well, go be bored somewhere else. I was busy.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you and reached across your lap for your computer. “Doing what?” 

Oh shit. “Dude, can you not-?!” you yelped, but he had swiped it too quickly out of your grasp, and opened it up to find himself paused on your screen. You laid back on your bed so he couldn’t see your cheeks now flushed with embarrassment and grabbed your lighter from your nightstand. It was going to be a long evening.

He leaned himself over to catch your eye and had the stupidest, most prideful look plastered across his face. “Gotcha.”

You punched him in the arm as he erupted into laughter—but the anger inside you had been dulled by the weed and replaced with a childlike silliness—and you started to giggle, too. You looked up into his eyes, pupils now wildly dilated and tinted red around the edges.

“Shut up, Tom, you’re high,” you said in between chuckles.

“Yeah? Well so are you!”

You poked fun at each other for a while, suddenly in a mutually fantastic mood. You knew in the back of your mind that none of this would be happening if you hadn’t gotten stoned together, but you enjoyed the warm company anyway. 

“Well, you gotta finish it, don’t you?” he said, settling back down and fixating the computer on his lap so you could both see it.

“You really want to watch your own movie?”

“Doll, it’s my favorite thing to do.” he smiled at you.

“God, you’re the worst.” you felt some butterflies make an entrance in your chest that had never been there before.

He pressed play and cozied up on your bed, lying back against the wall with his arm lazily draped behind you. You pulled a blanket up onto your lap and had really no choice but to lean on him for support, neither of you admitting out loud that you were full on cuddling and not angry about it.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna share?” he whined, pulling at the corner of your blanket.

“Get your own,” you responded, internally high-fiving yourself for finally getting the chance to sass him back. Sure, you had your head comfortably resting on his shoulder, but that didn’t mean you were suddenly friends.

You let the movie play, the two of you blowing through the joint until it was a dwindling nub. The scene where Peter has his big kiss with MJ started, and you stifled a snigger as their lips met on the screen.

Tom had clear offense laced through his words. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged.

He sat up to look at you, eyebrows knit together in an angry pout. “Tell me.”

“I just...feel bad for Zendaya, that’s all.” you covered your mouth to keep from laughing, and his eyes rolled so far back into his head you were sure they’d be stuck that way forever.

“You’re such a brat,” he started, his ego finding its old place back in his voice. “I’m an amazing kisser. She told me herself.”

You looked away from him, taking a heavy exhale. “Yeah, whatever, dude.”

He sat even more upright and paused the movie, taking hold of your shoulder to make you turn to him. “What, you don’t believe me?”

You realized then how physically close you had gotten, as you could feel the syllables of his words in his breath hitting your face. He was doing that thing boys do, when they’re thinking about kissing you but don’t- their stares going back and forth between your lips and your eyes in a not so subtle way. It freaked you out to see him that close and personal, and you whispered back exactly what you knew would irk him the most.

“Nope.”

He moved his face impossibly closer to yours, and you felt his soft lips lightly brush over your own. You weren’t sure if this was real, or just a high hallucination, but you didn’t move away. This was entirely uncharted territory.

“Tooommmm!” you heard Harrison yell out from the other side of the wall. “Where are yooouuu?! I’m so thirsty!” Tom immediately jerked his head away from you and shook himself out of the moment. You brought your hand up to your cheek and shuddered at how hot it had become- your own body was betraying you.

“God, he’s gonna be the death of me,” Tom said, shoving himself off the bed and walking out of your room, glancing back at you for a moment and then closing the door behind him. Just like that, he was gone, and you were left trapped in your own psyche wondering what the hell had just happened.

Over the course of the next week, things has become exponentially weirder between you and Tom. He seemed to be spending much more time at your house than he normally did, even sleeping a few nights there instead of driving the five minutes back to be in his own bed. One unsuspecting morning, you knocked on your bathroom door, annoyed that it had been shut for such a long time. 

“Haz, if you use up all the hot water again, I’m gonna kill you,” you said in between knocks. You were taken by surprise when it swung open, steam billowing out into the cool air.

“Whoops,” you heard a voice say, immediately realizing it wasn’t your brother. You took a step backward to see Tom emerge, wearing nothing but a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp and clinging to his forehead, and he looked like some glowing magazine model. 

“Uh, sorry,” you stammered, accidentally inhaling the yummy smell of his soap and shampoo emanating off of his skin.

He noticed you eyeing him and a sly grin appeared as he rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. “Shower’s all yours, babe,” he said, bumping your shoulder with his own as he walked away. You were stuck in place and didn’t see him glancing back at you as he wandered down the hallway. 

Another day after that, Tom and Harrison were looking for a certain record to play, but it was nowhere to be found. “It might be in y/n’s room,” Harrison said, sitting back in his lounge chair. “Wanna go grab it?”

Tom coughed. “Why do I have to get it?”

“Because I’m comfortable.”

Tom felt a mix of annoyance and nerves in his chest as he walked the short distance down the hallway to your room where the door was already cracked open. He invited himself in—excitement faltering a little when he saw you weren’t in your usual spot on your bed—and started to sift through your bookshelves.

You had been in the bathroom getting dressed after your shower, but realized you left your shirt in your closet- and seeing that Harrison’s bedroom door was still shut, you figured it was safe to run across the landing into your room without anyone seeing you. In just a bra and spandex shorts that left little to the imagination, you swiftly made your way across the hall and walked through your door that was still open a crack to see Tom kneeled down as he shuffled through your record collection.

He heard your small gasp when you entered to find him, and swiveled around to you standing only a few feet away from him in the least amount of clothing he’d ever seen on you. He abruptly stood up but didn’t move, eyes sparkling as they rolled down your body.

“What the fuck! Why are you always in my room?!” You were too shocked to think about finding something to cover yourself with, and put your hands over your face, trying not to die of embarrassment. Tom remained glued to his place on your carpet, clearly at a loss for words.

“Tom, can you leave please-”

“Right, yeah, okay, uh, bye-” he hurried out of your room, swinging the door almost shut but leaving just a crack so he could speak into it.

“...I like your shorts.”

“TOM!”

He chuckled and closed the door, and you slumped against the wall, still holding your head in your hands. What was this sudden hold he had over you? And why did you love the way that he was staring at you?

That night, you had a big paper to complete, and you were perched in your bed typing away as it got dark. In between two songs on your playlist, you heard the familiar jiggle of a doorknob. Looking up over your screen, you watched as the metal turned in its socket, and heard a soft “crushed it” as the lock undid itself. Your door opened steadily and slowly, a familiar face peeking in at you.

“Hi.”

“Oh sweet jesus,” you mumbled.

“You busy?”

“Clearly.”

“Cool.” Tom let himself into your room, shutting the door behind him and sauntering over to your bed, sitting down next to you, bouncing like a little kid and singing his words. “Whatcha doooin’?”

“Homework,” you said, continuing to type and trying your best to ignore the way the sound of his voice was waking up something electric inside of you. He leaned into your body to peer at your computer screen, pretending to be interested in whatever you were writing about. His elbow got in the way of your hands, and you had to stop typing.

“Thomas, is there something I can help you with?”

“Haz is asleep,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder like it hadn’t been a week since your almost-kiss and you hadn’t been actively avoiding bringing it up.

You felt jittery. “And?”

He gently pushed your hands away from the keyboard and closed your laptop shut, giving you a sheepish smile. “Wanna get high?”

Honestly, you did.

You turned on your lamp and turned off the overhead light, put on that record he finally found, lighting a candle and then another hand-rolled blunt. This time, Tom sat upright with you perpendicular to him, your legs swung over his lap. When he made a joke, he’d give your leg a little squeeze- and whether it was purposeful or not, you were filled with schoolgirl nerves every time it happened.

All the angsty barriers built up over years of a sibling-like rivalry had come down between the two of you as you smoked together; you suddenly found all of his bad jokes funny, and he couldn’t peel his eyes away from the cute way you scrunched your nose when you laughed. Every time you exchanged the blunt, you couldn’t help but think about how his lips had just been on it a moment before yours. The night came and went, and you ended up falling asleep wrapped in his arms as he dozed off with his chin pressed to your forehead.

You both woke up at the same time in the dead of night, unsure of how late it had gotten. Still nestled into each other, you exchanged sleepy glances and no words, taking a moment to realize the position you had put yourselves in. 

Tom grazed your jawline with the back of his hand and lifted up your chin with his thumb. You let your eyes flutter shut and he kissed you in the dark for one long, everlasting moment. He pulled back from you hesitantly, leaving you breathless. Did that really just happen?

“We...we can’t,” he whispered, his words tinged with sadness.

Your heart broke for him just hearing his voice. “Why not?”

“You’re my best friend’s little sister, y/n.”

“And you’re my brother’s best friend. So what?” you were almost upset with yourself for being so vulnerable; so visibly pining after him.

“So, you’re off limits,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Says who?” 

That prompted Tom to meet your gaze again, and this time you took initiative, moving your face to his and taking his bottom lip in between yours. He took a sharp inhale as you kissed him and seemed to let all inhibition go as he put his arms around your back and pressed you into him hard, all of his pent up feelings for you suddenly flowing out of him. He kissed you in a needy, desperate kind of way, and you loved every second of it. You ran your fingers through his hair, traced his jawline, using your hands to feel every bit of him that you couldn’t before. The strangest part of it all was how natural it felt- like you had been practicing for this very moment all your lives. 

Your record had stopped spinning a while ago, the room now filled with just the breathy noises of your kisses, your contented hums and his tiny mews when you bit his lips. You were both still barely lucid, and after countless minutes of nothing but innocent kisses, you were on the brink of falling asleep again, serotonin whisking you away into dreams. Tom sighed into you, and clasped his hand around yours.

“I have to go.”

“What? Why?” you felt your heart preeminently sink in your chest; like you should’ve known this was too good to last.

“I don’t want him to wake up and find us here,” he trailed off, staring down at your intertwined fingers fiddling together.

“So that’s it?” you tried to swallow back the sudden upwell of feelings inside you.

“No, no...” his eyes filled with some type of emotional strain you’d never seen. “I- I don’t want this to be it. But I don’t want things to get...messy.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t blame him, because you understood.

“Can you come back tomorrow night?” you whispered, very not ready to let his spot next to you grow cold.

“I don’t know...”

You looked up at him doe-eyed, cooing. “Please?”

He nodded, looking away from you before he completely caved and stayed there forever. “I’ll come back.”

He pressed one last kiss onto your lips and slowly got up, reluctantly letting go of your hand as he left your room. “Goodnight, babe.”

Hearing him call you babe, finally free of demeaning sarcasm, made your heart soar. 

“Goodnight, Tom.”

The door shut and you were left alone, the stillness of your room sticking out in sharp contrast with how quickly your heart was racing.

For the next few nights, Tom spent the evenings at your house with Harrison, waiting until he fell asleep to make his way next door to you. You’d smoke together, watch his movies—and in heated moments got a little handsy—but you never went past kissing, though you both desperately wanted to. It was too risky having your brother right next door; and you knew all too well how paper thin your walls were. But in those secretive hours after solar midnight, just being able to exist next to Tom and letting him hold you, you were the happiest you could ever remember being. The second night he left your room to let you sleep, he placed a light kiss on your forehead after he stood up that made the whole thing feel a little too...real.

The next day, you walked into the kitchen and found Harrison at the fridge. You were in a great mood for obvious reasons but couldn’t let it show. “Hey, got any fun plans today?”

He turned around after shoving a handful of grapes in his mouth. “Nope, got some admin stuff to do and gonna turn in early.”

“Oh, Tom isn’t coming over?”

“No, I told him to take a night off. He’s been smothering me, y’know?” he laughed and ate a few more grapes, but then turned to you, confused. “Since when do you care if he’s coming over?”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say. “Just want to know if I need to stay out of the way,” you faked a laugh and blinked hard, hoping he wasn’t paying too much attention to your facial expressions.

“Uh, alright then. You two are always so fuckin’ weird around each other.” He seemed to feel that was a good way to end your exchange and walked out of the kitchen, throwing a grape at you.

You rolled your eyes at your brother, but then felt the sadness bubble up upon registering that you weren’t going to see Tom tonight. But really, how long did you think you could keep this up? The feelings you were developing for him scared you, you didn’t know what to make of them; all you knew was that your days suddenly seemed much grayer without him.

Nighttime came around, and you couldn’t sleep, so you did the unthinkable and sent Tom a text. Your thumb shook as you hit send, knowing that there was now tangible evidence of the connection you’d developed, that it wasn’t just some invention of your mind.

hey, are you awake?

T: yeah, can’t sleep. you?

obviously, i just texted you.

T: shut it.

A minute passed...

T: got room for one more over there?

You smiled like an idiot at your phone.

maybe.

Less than 10 minutes later, you heard the familiar wriggle of your doorknob. You don’t know why you even bothered locking it anymore.

“Hey you,” he whispered, carefully shutting the door behind him.

“Tom, you know you could’ve just knocked and I would’ve let you in- you don’t have to keep picking the lock.”

“Old habits die hard.”

You chuckled and stood up to greet him at your door as he unexpectedly wrapped you in an amazingly tight hug. He rested his chin on top of your head and started to sway your bodies back and forth. You laid your head on his chest and said hello to his heartbeat.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was almost hard to fall asleep without you,” he murmured, placing another one of those domestic kisses on your scalp.

“Well, now you don’t have to.” you smiled. He waddled you backwards to your bed and you sat down as your legs hit the bedframe, prompting Tom to fall onto you as you giggled into his body that was now covering your face.

“Okay, goodniiight,” he said, refusing to move. You poked at his sides making him jump, and he grabbed your waist and rolled you on top of him. You instinctively leaned down so your lips could clash together in the way you were so used to, trying hard to not confess that you’d completely fallen in love with him when you finally had the breath to speak. He pushed your hair to cascade to one side of his face, and nuzzled your nose with his own, closing his eyes and humming with a smile. “Mmm.”

“Hmm?”

“Just happy.”

You rested your sleepy head on his warm chest, and fell into a deep sleep, letting the steady drumming in his chest be a metronome to breathe to.

~

“Oh, shit. Shit shit shit.”

You woke up abruptly, the bright light of day blinding you as you tried to open your eyes to the string of expletives you’d just heard come from a familiar voice. Once you’d opened them, though, you wish you had kept them shut so you hadn’t seen who had spoken.

“Harrison?!”

He was standing in your room, peering at you with hands half covering his eyes when you realized that there was a sleeping Tom underneath you.

Your brother paced in a circle and exhaled loudly. “Tell me I’m not seeing what I’m seeing.”

You nudged Tom awake with your elbow and immediately rolled off of him, trying to hide the very obvious fact that you had slept together all night. You never let him stay the full night for this exact reason, but he had been so ridiculously happy holding you in his arms that he forgot to set an alarm to wake him at the crack of dawn and leave. You sat up straight in your bed, twisting your hair in your hands, bracing yourself for the inevitable tirade.

Tom picked his head up to see Harrison standing there with his arms crossed, and flopped his head back on the pillow. “Fuck. Hey, mate.” He tried to play it off like this was the most normal thing that could happen on a Thursday morning.

“Is this why you’re always such bumbling fools around one another? You’ve been, what, fucking each other when I’m not around?” Harrison looked like he wanted to throw up at the thought.

“Haz, no, it’s not like that,” you said, but he didn’t seem convinced. “It’s just been smoking together and cuddling, really, that’s it,” you were torn between wanting to console your brother and admitting to both him and Tom that this was more to you than that. But Tom already knew that, because it was for him, too.

Tom looked like a deer in headlights. “I’m so sorry, dude-”

Harrison walked out of the room, and the two of you were left sitting in your bed, worry filling your eyes. Only a moment later, your brother reappeared in the doorway.

“Look, you idiots, I don’t care that you’re snuggling off the clock—you’re my two favorite people in the world, and to see you together, honestly, it’s about damn time,” he started, making both your and Tom’s jaws fall slightly agape. You exchanged a knowing look. Wait, is he not mad? Wait, about damn time??

“But I wish you would’ve told me so we could all hang out together. I don’t appreciate the sneaking around.” 

You cocked your head at him, sending him a loving gaze for always just wanting what’s best for you. 

“I’m just mad you aren’t including me in your hotbox sessions, really.” He laughed and ran his hands through his hair, pulling his face back to make a wild expression.

All three of you started to chuckle out of sheer awkwardness and relief.

“Come here.” Harrison held his hands out and you both gave a mutual aww as you ran into your brother’s arms, squeezing him tight.

“I love you, big bro.”

“I know. Now I’m gonna get out of here before you start kissing in front of me, or worse,” he moaned, swiftly exiting your room. “This is gonna be the grossest thing I’ve ever seen...” you heard him say to himself as he left.

You turned to Tom, still shocked at how well that had gone considering what he was assuming would happen. You swallowed the butterflies that you’d welcomed as friends and stepped back to him still sitting on the bed, putting your arms around his neck.

“And you,” you started, swinging your legs over his lap to straddle him. “I have to confess something.”

Tom placed his hands back on your hips where they rightfully belonged and smiled at you. “I’m listening.”

“I don’t mind you calling me babe anymore.” you grinned at his face drop, obviously assuming that you were going to say something else.

“Oh, and why’s that?” he prodded.

You looked up and off to the side as you squeezed his shoulders. “Maybe because I’m just a tad bit in love with you,” you trailed off, stiff as a board at what he could possibly say next.

“Well, babe,” he put emphasis on the pet name, “That’s a relief, because I was worried I might be the only one falling here.”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, kneading his soft cheeks under your thumbs, whispering exactly what you knew would get him the most.

“Nope.”

[meat--grindr]

another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

·       It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

·       Even better, you aren’t alone.

·       Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

·       The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

·       Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

·       The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

·       The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

·       Okay. Sure.

·       It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

·       In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

·       “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

·       Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

·       “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

·       “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

·       “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

·       And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

·       The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

·       You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

·       In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

·       So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

·       He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

·       You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

·       His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

·       He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

·       “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

·       And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

·       He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

·       “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

·       Limp or lifeless?

·       The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

·       You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

·       You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

·       When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

·       He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

·       “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

·       Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

·       “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

·       He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

·       You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

·       You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

·       “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

·       And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

·       “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

·       The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

·       You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

·       Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

·       Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

·       You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

·       Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

·       For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

·       The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

·       You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

·       When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

·       “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

·       You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

·       His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

·       The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

·       “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

·       You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

·       Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

·       You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

·       “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

·       Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

·       There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

·       “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

·       There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

·       “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

·       “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

·       “Oh, yes.”

·       “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

·       Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

·       “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

·       Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

·       “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

·       The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

·       Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

·       Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

·       Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

·       “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

·       “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

·       You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

·       Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

·       Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

·       Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

·       “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

·       Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

·       “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

·       Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

·       You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

·       You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

·       “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

·       “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

·       You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

·       “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

·       Clever boy.

·       You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

·       He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

·       You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

·       He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

·       His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

·       You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

·       With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

·       His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

·       You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

·       “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

·       “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

·       You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

·       “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

·       “They are aware, yes.”

·       The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

·       Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

·       You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

·       Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

·       “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

·       You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

·       “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

·       The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

·       You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

·       “Oh yeah? How?”

·       “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

·       He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

·       ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

·       You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

·       Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

·       You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

·       He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

·       But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

·       This is going to be fun.

·       You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside.  Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

·       Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

·       “What was that, Count?”

·       “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

·       The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

·       Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

·       “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

·       With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

·       The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

·       “Their…blood?”

·       You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

·       “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

·       Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

·       The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

·       Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

·       The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

·       Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

·       Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

·       You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

·       “What’s going on, Count?”

·       “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

·       “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

·       Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

·       The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

·       Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

·       His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

·       Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

·       You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

·       “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

·       “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

·       Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

·       He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

·       With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

·       The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

·       His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.  

·       He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

·       The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

·       Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

·       He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”

[mypersonmyg]

crash and learn | myg, kth, jjk

pairing: yoongi x reader ft. maggie x taehyung, dani x jeongguk

genre: fluff, college au, the misery chick au

rating: pg15

wc: 2.3k

warnings: swearing, not really edited

summary: you and yoongi just want some time alone OR maybe jeongguk and taehyung will finally stop crashing your dates

a/n: haha i bet you thought i forgot but i didn’t! its drabble week and i will be posting one every day this week (weekends debatable)...this one is a part of the misery chick universe but also you don’t have to read it to get it because...

this is for my FAVORITE CUTIE MAGGIE @kimtaehyunq​!!!! who asked me to write a cute tae and jeongguk request ft herself and yours truly <3 and i think its fun to have one universe with all the members being with one of my friends so,,,maybe more coming?,,,either way i might write another drabble or two to sort of bring this one full circle, maybe not this week but yeah

[drabble masterlist]

[the misery chick]

One date turned to two and two to three, needless to say that months later and Min Yoongi still finds room to swoon for the girl who thought him puffing smoke before the start of the period. The misery chick isn’t gone, but the words are forbidden within a radius of the two of you, more likened to prolonged stares and the occasional glares of those wondering about the developing development of your arms locked and stares stopping on your respective pupils dilated in the glare of the midday sun. 

Though those passersby who let Yoongi pass by for too long without a positive step in the direction of his natural charms hold their tongues, the boys that fill the round of the courtyard picnic don’t hesitate to gag into half eaten sandwiches and dribble the purple fizz from the cans perched at their lips. 

“This is a little excessive, no?” Taehyung, the least bothered of the present, pipes up. He slurps from a straw that traces the length of his arm, wrapping the sleeve of his half buttoned button up. No one dared ask about his latest purchase, Jeongguk who was slurping from his juice box even eyeing with envy the can perfectly placed atop a tuft of grass, feeding into the straw at Taehyung’s lips. “When you invited us on a picnic I was hoping for a little more ‘we time’ and a little less ‘you time’.”

“To be clear, we didn’t invite you.”

“I like to think it was an open invitation,” Jeongguk shrugs, falling back against the blanket spread beneath you. 

Yoongi kisses his teeth, his own position resting against your chest, the perfect avenue for the pass of a grape from your fingers to his lips. He’s too content to bother with the bothersome nature of his uninvited roommates, both found minutes before his departure scavenging the lunch he’d spent the better part of the morning putting together. It was only the delighted pitch of your giggles that stopped him from scolding the two and sending them on their way when they followed you out of the door. He even caught you sneaking a few extra snacks into the basket for the fiends. 

“The point is, I will not hesitate to press my face to Yoongi’s because this is supposed to be a date.” 

“Press your face? That’s fuckin’ weird can’t you just say kiss?” Taehyung snatches the grape from your hand midair, sending Yoongi a smug smirk when he pops it past his geometric lips humming along with the satisfactory burst of the skin against his tongue. 

“No, because it makes you uncomfortable.” You tut, quickly replacing the grape to remedy the pout pulling at Yoongi’s cheeks. “This’ll teach you two to stop crashing our dates!” 

Dates is, in fact, plural because the tag along of your spritely comrades has been less and less few and far over the course of just a few weeks. You aren’t blind to the odd trend, not missing the attachment of Jeongguk specifically with each expected visit. Only recently had Taehyung begun to fill the void at Jeongguk’s side, previously partnered with any member of the house available at the time. 

What you’ve failed to account for with every impromptu double date is Jeongguk’s wise up with each stand in. He began to worm his way with Hoseok, clear that Yoongi would never turn down his best friend and you would never turn down Jeongguk. He would then try his hand with each member of the house, the worst of them being Jimin who had them sent away without even a morsel of the pizza you and Yoongi planned on sharing that day. 

It was that evening that Yoongi stood barefoot in his doorway, scratching at his brows toeing the reason behind Jeongguk’s sudden interest in you to which Jeongguk sputtered and blushed Yoongi out of the door with the assurance that his interest in you still remained platonic despite your commonalities and attraction. 

Jeongguk would never disclose the reason for his sudden interest in the almost daily escapades of Yoongi and yourself for fear that the blush painting his cheeks would be due to the teases and pressures of his friends, much the way he heard his hyungs pressuring Yoongi just months ago. He reasons that the position served Yoongi well, his eyes often traveling to the trace of your hand against Yoongi’s and frequent pecks to his forehead, his cheeks, he averts when you ‘press face’.

He wouldn’t dare admit the lift of his heart when you utter a defeated ‘I’ll just call Maggie and Dani, we can all catch a movie or something’ or when you plan ahead, which you’ve been doing more often, and the two meet you at your destination. The assumption of his appearance for the consumption that is often his source of a meal was accurate at the start. Your weekly dinners increasingly put on hold in place of a date with Yoongi, a point that Jeongguk used to his advantage the first night he beat Yoongi to the front seat of his own car while you snickered on the passenger side and Yoongi grumbled his way to the rear. 

His tactic had been to spend more time with his friend busied by love’s intoxicating hold, but his routine was struck by the catch of his own wrist in the hold of the bug. It was subtle before all at once, just an insignificant flutter passed off as a change in the weather, allergies. It was the not so subtle jab of Hoseok’s elbow into Jeongguk’s ribs after a particularly festive frolic through the spring festival that hipped him to his blind intentions. 

“Dude, you’ve been eying Dani for like three weeks and I’m tired of going on dates with you.” Suffice to say that was the last time Hoseok was glued to his side and Jeongguk only hoped the few feet between him and Dani just ahead provided a gap gaping enough to save her ears from Hoseok’s assail. 

It was a constant trial and error leading up to the night just a week ago that conjured Taehyung in stride, far too dressed up for casual with a confident glint in his eye. 

“You made the right call, I don’t know why it took you so long to make it, but I’m here now. The doctor is in.” Taehyung surveyed the small span of the restaurant's front entrance that day, confident in his abilities to  nudge Jeongguk ever closer to the girl he’s been crazy about for the past few weeks. He found it endearing that the youngest was having a hard time, especially when he was often the target of straying gazes and the not-so-subtle flirtations of all shades. 

It didn’t take long for all involved to realize that the doctor inconveniently called in sick from the moment Yoongi showed up with three ladies en route, one familiar from a photo Jeongguk scrounged and the second filled with a familiarity not quite familiar to Taehyung. You were quick to introduce her as Maggie, and Taehyung couldn’t form a sentence coherent enough for the rest of the night. 

If it weren’t for the quickened explanation on the drive home, Jeongguk would’ve been a lot less forgiving about his botched date, but here they are two weeks later, both lovestruck idiots jumping with each sound of crumpled grass while you and Yoongi are none the wiser to their intent. 

“So, what are we doing tomorrow? Aside from watching you two be all lovey dovey.” 

“I don’t know,” Yoongi’s head tilts, eyes squinting in the face of the sun’s rays. “What are you two doing tomorrow? I personally plan on spending the day with my girlfriend, preferably alone at some point.” 

“Huh, well there’s this horror marathon at the drive-in tomorrow and I was thinking we could all go!” Taehyung nudges Jeongguk’s leg, the younger immediately onboard with the suggestion. 

“Yeah! We could even invite Maggie and Dani so we have someone to talk to when you two inevitably claim the backseat for making out or whatever.”

You eye the two, eyes as wide as fresh puppies and smiles spanning the length of their cheeks. You aren’t completely blind to the trend of the past few weeks, but you haven’t been keen enough an observer to call them out on it until now. You’ve joked with Yoongi in private about your impromptu triple dates, most of the time brushed off with the shift of his lips to your own, too exhausted to think about anything but the moment he finally has you to himself. 

You nudge him with your knee, catching his eye with the minute dip of your head and the draw of your brow. 

“Ya know, you guys could always just go yourselves. I could give you their numbers,” You don’t miss the exchanged glances and tinted cheeks, Jeongguk’s eyes averting to the opposite end of the grass, one hand lifting to tug at the lobe of his ear. “I know Maggie is really into horror and Dani will def tag along if you ask nicely.” 

“Oh...they’re your friends though, I don’t think they’d wanna hang with us.” Taehyung sputters, nearly knocking the can at his side. Yoongi scoffs, head lolling from its place on your thigh. 

“You’re kidding right? The way those two act around you is not exactly subtle.” 

“What do you mean?” Jeongguk’s body leans forward, pupils doubled in hopeful curiosity. 

“I guess you’ll just have to see for yourself.” Yoongi shrugs. 

“And there’s no time like the present!” Your hands flag at something beyond the scope of their heads, Jeongguk freezing on the spot, but Taehyung’s neck craning to capture the bodies bounding over and moments later plopping in the convenient spaces between. Maggie squishes herself between you and Jeongguk while Dani takes the spot beside Taehyung. 

A panic flashes in both of their eyes when they note the unmatched arrangement of bodies. There was no specification as to who Maggie or Dani harbor unspoken feelings for, or what kind of feelings they are,  and the time to question has since vanished. 

The group falls to routine, broken conversations and voices piping in, Taehyung notes the lack of attention the girl that has a grip on his bursting appendage has paid in the past twenty minutes. A simple nod of the head or half smile is the only acknowledgement to his thoughtfully witty remarks. 

He doesn’t miss the drop of her hand to Jeongguk’s arm when he tells a funny joke, her head thrown back with exaggerated laughter and he fights to send a glare his way but thinks better as Jeongguk is too entranced by Dani who has barely said a word since sitting. 

“So, Tae was just telling us about this horror marathon they’re having at the drive-in tomorrow night. He and Guk wanna go.” You fill in once the six of you fall to comfortable silence. You catch Maggie sending a smirk Taehyung’s way, recovering at once when she peeks your gaze out of the corner of her eye. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, Yoon and I could use some alone time so I thought you guys might wanna go with them.”

“Horror?” Dani speaks up, gently shifting to shield herself from Jeongguk’s wandering eyes. “That’s cool, but I don’t know that’s not really my thing.” 

“That's okay!” Jeongguk startles himself with his words, lowering his voice with a nervous chuckle. “I mean, we don’t have to stay the whole time, I wouldn’t mind leaving early. We could get some food or something.” 

“Hey, not all of us are chicken. I wanna stay the whole time,” Maggie pokes her tongue in Dani’s direction, earning the same in return. 

“I’m not chicken. There’s just only so much nuclear family, last girl blah blah blah that I can handle.” Dani shrugs, turning her attention to Jeongguk for the first time that he’s aware of, since she arrived. “It’s okay, you guys should just go without me.” 

“No, I wanna hang with you. We could go to this new pizza place in town if you’re interested?” Jeongguk is pleased to note that you and Yoongi have gone back to your regularly scheduled program, pretending as if your date hasn’t been crashed for the millionth time. Taehyung and Maggie, on the flip, are watching you two as if they’re already tucked into the boot of a car with popcorn between their fingers. 

“Um...I mean, if you really don’t mind. I don’t wanna steal you or them away from the movies.” 

“I’ll stay...ya know, Maggie and I. We could stay and watch the movies and you two could go after the first one or two.” Taehyung glances at Maggie whose eyes are already taking him in, flashing away the moment pupils meet. 

“Yeah, that’s always an option.” She agrees, flashing you a thumbs up. 

“Great!” Four heads snap in your direction, Yoongi is finally sitting upright and you’re all smiles, neatly folding your blanket to pass off. “So it sounds like you guys have a lot of planning to do and we have a lot of kissing to do, so we’ll be seein’ ya!” 

“Wait, don’t you guys wanna finish your food?” Maggie gestures to the half eaten meal left resting in the basket.

“No no, you guys have it. I’m actually in the mood for pizza now so we’ll probably grab some on the way home.” 

“Okay...bye, I guess.” Dani watches with scrunched brows and Jeongguk and Taehyung send Yoongi the same look he’s been sending for weeks for a completely different reason. He sends them a smirk, arm slung around your shoulders as the two of you leave your date crashers in the dust with potential of their own. 

“Have fun!” 

[freddiefcknmercury]

A Promise(part 2)- Crimson & Clover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader(Black coded/Genderless)

Word Count: 2.7+

Warnings/Disclaimer: SMUT. ANGST. cursing. mild depression/heart-ache. etc etc. if something needs to be tagged please lemme know.

A/N: LOL I'm back on my bullshit yall. heavy angst/depression from the previous Steve centered storyline so if you haven't read "You really think I didn't know?" I'll do some magic linky links here and at the bottom just in case. Also I'm trying something kinda different with the way I post the fics so feedback is welcome.

ALSO this one comes with a tiny playlist! there are Bolded lyrics throughout if you want to get a deeper sense of where I was emotionally writing this and where reader is as well you can Def give these songs a listen, they are in order of appearance:

Crimson & Clover- Tommy James & The Shondells

Every Time I Breathe- Arlissa

Navy Blue - Hasani

Summary: Bucky takes an extended leave for "work" related reasons and reader slips back into some dark places in his absence...

~*As always, be Nice to me I’m Delicate*~

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He said he might be gone most of the week. Sam called the day before and all you know is it's something important. He didn't go into detail, just packed a bag and you'd never seen him do that before. But he was also only gone a day or two at a time and never felt the need to tell you about it before now either.

Up until recently you'd tip-toe around each other. Not like you used to with Steve though, worse. Bucky is a lot better at making sure you don't know he's there until it's too late. It felt like you'd never get used to each other, or more likely that you'd never want to. You might've still been secretly hoping that he'd stop caring and go away... after a while you got tired of your own bullshit and realized he's giving off that vibe on purpose. Wordlessly telling you how you should feel about him, not wanting to get too close. You never much liked being told what to do.

It was only about two months before you became a Barnes' expert. You'd sit up at night listening intently for when he'd shower, get in bed, or wake up. He never slept more than five maybe six hours at a time, you'll never understand how he can function like that. You know how he likes his coffee, which angle he holds his cup. How and where he takes off his shoes, how much ice he puts in a drink, the way he likes to cut his toast, and what time he has to do all of it. There's an almost unnerving pattern to him, one that's always been there and you were just unwilling to notice for so long, and you're not sure if he's even aware of it.

You woke up to him already gone. You knew he was leaving but actually being left alone like that unsettled you more than you anticipated, a serious case of Deja vu. You went into your routine like normal, because everything still was, but by the fifth day... you stepped into the front room and got that empty feeling. One you hadn't really had since...

It stopped you for a few seconds longer than you liked and a large knot formed in your stomach. You spent the whole day trying to ignore the feeling but it only got worse. Like a hunger pain but much more vague, crawling through each muscle. You'd catch yourself staring at his room, Bucky's room but also... Steve's. It's the first time you let yourself admit to him fully crossing your mind in over a year.

You laid up in bed, trying to count the metaphorical sheep to no avail. Getting up thinking that a snack or a warm drink will stop the restlessness, you pause in the tiny hallway shared by your bedrooms. The low blue light from the moon outside dustily illuminating the space through  a cloudy bathroom window. You stare at the door like any second he's going to ask what you're doing up so late and you can tell him to mind his own business while pouring two cups of tea.

You just wanted to touch the knob; turn it to make sure it still works- that you're still "allowed in there if you want". But stepping inside was too far, an invasion of Bucky's privacy, and you felt it. But you couldn't help yourself. You needed to know.

They were definitely cut from the same cloth. Sparse furnishings and no decorations, save a few very small trinkets he'd held onto from who knows where. There is exactly one row on his bookshelf filled with composition notebooks that were beat to hell and back. Sticky notes lined the edge of most of the pages, so much so that they easily could've been mistaken for feathers on a quick glance. You dare not touch them. Observing someone with a past that checkered is very different to reading into the things they deem worthy of physically writing down.

Where Steve used to leave small drawings and notes Bucky left half empty ink pens and a few well used pairs of gloves. You saunter to the far corner of the room and caress a worn leather jacket hanging precariously on the lowest peg of a coat rack. Doing a slow sweep of the space something in the otherwise barren closet catches your eye. The knot in your stomach that had almost disappeared was back and it brought friends. Your shirt. His shirt. The big one that said BROOKLYN across the front, what you didn't know was your "going away gift." The one you balled up and shoved in the top corner of his closet, at the time hoping you'd never look at it again. You're amazed that it's still here, that Bucky hadn't tossed it out or tried to give it back to you when he moved in.

So you put it on. You're still not sure why but you needed to wear it. To feel it drape over your skin, enveloping you in warmth and that beautiful clean familiar scent you... loved once. It sent a shiver down your spine. The knots in your stomach were gone but now there's one in your throat. You can feel the tears seated right behind your eyes. You sit on the bed holding your face pleading with the water to stay put but it's too late. You miss him. You hate to admit it, but it's true and it always has been. You're angry and you should be, you loved him- you thought he might've loved you. Pulling the hem of the shirt up you wipe the tears off your face and fall into a pillow, trying to calm yourself out of your rage unintentionally drifting into sleep.

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

You wake up to the sound of music in the kitchen.

...Ah, now I don't hardly know her, but I think I could love her...

You sit up quickly checking your phone: 11:34am. You'd fallen asleep in Bucky's room, in his bed. A blanket had been placed over you and a short scan of the room returned a brown leather duffel bag and set of black boots that weren't present last night. He'd come back early this morning and found you here. You can feel your heart fall straight out of your ass, the void that was left being filled with pure embarrassment. Is he angry? He did tuck you in...

As slowly and quietly as possible you make your way towards the door, poking your head out just enough to assess the situation. You can see his back in the kitchen, he's hovering over the sink. You notice the couch, the spare blanket and pillow from the bathroom closet folded neatly on one of the arm rests, he had to sleep there. The void gets deeper. You pull the door open just enough to slip out of and there's a quiet creak. Steve never did fix that, and you just figured out why.

Bucky didn't turn around but definitely noticed. He steps to the side, now in front of the stove and you here something crack and sizzle. You're not sure what to do here. You can try to apologies and explain but there's no un-embarrassing way out of this one. You fold your arms over your stomach trying to hold all your very delicate pieces together while you attempt to speak up. Finally reaching the bar and fully prepared to say good morning when he quickly sets a hot bowl down in front of you. White rice and a fried egg- runny yolk. You'd make it for breakfast when you'd get up early or couldn't sleep, a friend from school put you on to it. Looks like he's been studying you too. You make eye contact but, just briefly. From what little of the expression you get on his face nothing indicates that he's mad. But he hasn't said anything to the contrary either.

How was your trip?  Dangerous I bet-sorry you couldn't come home and sleep in your own goddamn bed! Oh?! AND you made me breakfast!

You feel like a crazy person.

"Comfy last night?"

He's pouring himself some coffee, not yet turning your way. There's no hostility in his voice.

You chuckle nervously.

"Yeah.. sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it."

He sets a small glass of juice down in front of you. Heavy eye contact this time, but his expression is soft. He didn't ask for an explanation and you really didn't want to give him one. But you still feel guilt looming over you. You take the glass in both hands and nurse it.

He nods at you with a squint, taking a big sip of coffee.

"If I knew that was yours I would've given it back."

The shirt. You forgot you actually put it on. You hold your breath stroking the fabric gently. Contemplating your next words.

"It's not- well, not really."

He raises an eyebrow.

"It was a gift, so I guess it does belong to me..."

Glancing back down at it you can see him realize it says "Brooklyn." His expression changes to a knowing one and it reads like regret but he quickly tries to box it back up for you. This is a new move for him.

There's a much longer pause in conversation than either of you would like before he shifts his weight awkwardly.

"Sorry."

You push glass, now empty back across the bar towards him.

"Don't worry about it-"

You swivel in your seat quickly, taking your bowl and getting up to leave. He steps out from the kitchen after you.

"Thanks for breakfast."

The tears had been welling up and started to pour over as you left. You're still in no state to pretend to be a functioning person right now. Trying to save him from your ugly cry face by escaping but he grabs your shoulder gently suggesting you backwards.

You cover your mouth to hush a sob. You can see your chest start heave but there's nothing you can do to stop yourself. He grabs the bowl setting it down carefully, then you feel a warm metal sensation squeezing the back of your neck.

"You don't have to be over it."

He's been back a couple hours and already knows you're still a mess. You scoff, laughing at yourself really.

"What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing."

He whispered back quickly, exasperated, but tender.

You sniffle; pathetic.

"That's not how it feels."

"He fucked up. He just doesn't know it."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you into his embrace.

It's nice to feel another person. A real solid human being; you can't remember the last time you hugged someone like this. You turn in his arms to face him. He looks tired. Not just 'had-to-sleep-on-an-old-couch' tired. Emotionally repressed. Maybe he has actually wanted to talk to you. He pulls you into him, it's just a hug  but it almost hurt how sweet this was.

Then a thought came to you, not really sure how, you can't handle more rejection right now; but you kissed him anyway, hard. Like him being gone almost killed you- because it did. He pulls away from you, just a little, reading your face his own expressionless. You search his eyes for any kind of hint as to what's going on inside his mind. You're not ready to admit this was a mistake yet. There's no real way to know how long you stood there like that. You only dare to move after you hear the song change in the background.

Words... thought they just fade away

but hurt... gave them a place to stay

"Do something."

You were sure it was just in your head but it creaked out past your lips in less than a whisper, pleading with him.

He covered your mouth with his, smoothing both hands down your neck to your shoulders gripping them gently, intently. You cling to his waist almost afraid to explore anywhere else, then slowly drag nails along his back. He pulls you back into him, you want to fuse with the warmth radiating off of his body, he bends and you collide onto the floor with a muffled thud. He cradles your head quickly so you don't get hurt but you wouldn't care at this point.

The way you fit into each other is unnerving, like your bodies weren't meant for anybody else. You both scramble to undress him in between breathy wet kisses and he's... magnificent. He pulls off his shirt and you swiftly run fingers from his neck down each arm. The metal one is warm, this surprises you for some reason. You watch as each "muscle" dances at your touch and you catch a small glimpse of something on his face that resembles insecurity... or fear. He shelves it quickly in response to you bucking your hips up to dismiss your underwear.

He buries his face in your neck, warm breaths ghosting your skin. Hooking his hands behind your knees he hoists your legs up around his waist. He bites down gently and you gasp. It's too much. He's everywhere, all at once. The last person to touch you event remotely close to this was-

"...Steve."

It just came out, you almost didn't notice it. Bucky stops, pulling back and away. He scans you, a pitiful, panting mess on the floor. The most vulnerable you've probably ever been and definitely in front of him. He shakes his head slowly once, chest heaving.

"No."

Knots line your stomach once again. He grabs your wrist to hold your arms in place up above your head and presses his forehead against yours.

"Look at me."

You hold eye contact there for a solid minute, you're sure of it. He leans forward delicately dragging teeth against your ear.

"You're gonna keep saying it until you can't forget."

He drops his hips and lines up with your entrance. You feel a thick wash of euphoria from the pressure, throwing your head back as much as possible given the floor. You roll your hips along to his, cradling each other perfectly.

His eyes didn't leave your face until you both feel your legs begin to tremble.

"Oh Bucky."

The only words you can remember.

You feel every stroke hasten and all his muscles tighten each time his name falls from your lips. He pulls your shirt up to your neck looking to spatter kisses and bite marks across your torso. You futilely dig one set of nails into the floor and the other in his shoulder as he hungrily growls into your stomach, cursing, longing for mercy.

"Fuck."

You pull him back up to your face demanding his tongue. You hear the floorboard creek from the pressure of a metal hand, the flesh one surely bruising your hip by now. There's a deep enduring moan from the back of his throat as he finds his release inside you. You gasp at the sensation and you both pant into each other, nothing but a mess on the floor now.

He presses a long, firm kiss into the bridge of your nose then falls gently on his back beside you. You roll your head up to look at his face, whatever it is he's feeling isn't immediately obvious as he stares up at the ceiling. You shift onto your side placing a light, cautious hand on his chest and he glances over at you, reaching to squeeze your thigh reassuringly.

The sky is Navy Blue soon to be baby blue and baby you got nothing but time...

He looks over your face in a deep sigh before retiring his gaze to the ceiling.

"I don't know him... The guy that left you like that."

You watch intently has his jaw clenched, he's never been able to hide that bit very well.

"I don't know what kind of..."

He trails off, clearly upset.

You sigh deeply.

"I was gonna die that night."

He rolls his head back to look at you.

"The day I met him? I had pretty much made up my mind."

You start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Almost reminiscent.

"But he found me in the staircase..."

You hate how subtly he did some things. If you weren't lying next to him. There's no way you'd ever be able to tell his breathing had changed.

"Essentially-"

You pick your head up, chin on his sternum.

"He saved my life."

You state matter of factually. You watch his body relax in a short, bitter way.

He rolls his head over just enough to look you in the eyes. You kiss his chest once tenderly before moving to stand up. You extend a hand down for him to grab.

"That isn't good for your back."

"You really think I didn't know?" Part1

[froegs]

My Stardew OC’s!

long post, but feel free to read up if u wanna ask questions or request to see more of them!!

Ivy Sodbuster!

Quick Facts about Ivy:

She worked in customer service @ joja for 6 years

She was a dedicated scene kid 8th grade and all through high school, unfortunately she had to trash (almost) all her clothes and redye her hair bc of joja 😞

She only wore business casual bc she would go and work for seven hours and come home, sleep, repeat. When she started working on the farm she was broke as hell so she had to rip the sleeves off her shirts and cut her jeans into jorts so she could have work clothes

Emily was her first friend in town bc she saw ivys busted ass and said..... let me help you

She became friends with Sam second just because. He was around.

She inherited grandpa’s farm with her cousin, Oakley (my friends oc, once she finalizes a design I’ll draw them more).

Oakley’s more “mature” (bc shes 30) but she just is really anxious. Ivy tries to set her up with Leah but they don’t click,,, Oakley ends up falling for chicken man.

Sam introduces Ivy to Seb and instead of Farmer falling for NPC its the other way around Fr.

Seb crushes on Ivy immediately

His first attempt at flirting was like “hey ivy...... wanna see me beat Sam at 8pool for 3 hrs straight?” And Ivy immediately joined Sam’s side and demolished Seb in 8ball.

Ivy ended up hanging out with the ASS trio on a daily.

Seb and Ivy started dating Fall 1 of year 1 after they confessed their feelings for each other during the dance of the moonlight jellies festival

They moved in together 3 days after Seb’s bday

And were married Summer 10

They fast burned this bitch but they are so stupidly in love

In Year 3 Spring Ivy’s other cousin on her moms side became pregnant and chose to give it up for adoption, but beforehand she asked everyone in the family if they wanted a baby

Ivy looked at Seb like 👀

So on Year 3 Winter 1 they brought home their son, Finn

I think this is a classic trope for all Sebastian lovers but he def dresses Finn up in a frog onesie and calls him tadpole !!

Her favorite activity is fishing, that’s how’d she find excuses to hang out with Seb by the lake

She loves making artisan items, especially truffle oil. Oakley prefers large crops and agricultural designing and ivys like fuck yeah mushroom >:D

Milo NoLastName!

Quick Facts About Milo:

Milo was smuggled into Pelican Town by the Traveling Merchant when he was 6 and was taken in by Gil and Marlon.

Gil was 55 and Marlon was 46 when they “adopted” Milo

Gil took the most care of him and Marlon kind of had the attitude of like... a dad when your family pressures him to get a dog. First week their like FINE I GUESS we have to TAKE CARE of HIM. Next week: me and the bestie!

Milo looks up to Gil so much. His favorite brown jacket was Gil’s old one.

Marlon took Milo into the mines when he turned ten as a sort of “coming of age” trip and.... a bat nipped a part of his ear off.

Marlon said it’ll build character

But he was freaking out about it

Gil was upset but got it patched up.

I head canon that Evelyn taught the kids in town before they went off to high school, so four times a week (he’d usually stay home Friday to reset and relax or help out his dads) he’d have to socialize with the others

But he was always a few years older than them so he felt kind of distant

The others in question were Alex, Penny, Sam, Abigail, Sebastian, and Maru

Once he graduated middle school he convinced Gil to let him homeschool so he could find geodes and sell them during most the day.

When he was 17 he finally reached floor 120 of the mines, but on his way climbing back up he got attacked by three squid kids and void spirits, lost his left ear, and blacked out

He was rescued by Marlon, who rushed him home and took care of him

Because Pelican Town didn’t have a doctor at that time, the bus was broken down, all Marlon could do was try and clean up his ear and give him antibiotics and make sure it didn’t become infected

He lost his hearing in that ear

That was the biggest injury he’s gotten so far, but he was grateful when Harvey moved to town

Harvey opened his clinic, fresh faced (ish) at 26 and immediately some scruffed up 24 year old saunters in like “thank GOD ur here dude, here’s fourteen years worth of problems. Good luck.”

It didn’t actually go like that

But

Basically

Milo’s not really a social person, at 25 he discovered he could easily buy a car and drive out to the desert to try his hand at skull cavern. He came prepared but ended up needing emergency surgery that night anyway

He slowly but surely became friends with Sandy and the desert trader. He liked the trader for her prices and Sandy for her kindness.

He also fell in love with....... HARVEY!! (shocker)

Harvey actually fell in love with him first :))

Idiots to lovers slow burn

Hell they’re not even together by the time ivy rolls around and they met like.... 6 years ago??? My god these bitches.....

Pheobe Dy

Quick facts about Pheobe:

Pheobe actually grew up closer to the desert than Zuzu City or pelican town!

Her parents own a decent sized cacti farm and she’d bus into town for school where she met Sandy and Emily!!

I like to believe there’s another town (not as small as Pelican) but close knit in the desert. I hc that Sandy’s shop, skull caverns, and the trader are just like the entry road to a nice desert town

Anyway

She got into fashion and design when Emily pulled her and Sandy into it in sophomore year of high school

Sandy didn’t like it that much and would usually hit glue or staple pieces bc she’d procrastinate the whole time lol

But Pheobe and Em where DEDICATED

they’d hang out after school to design clothing and critique each other’s work (with love, of course)

Pheobe went to college for clothing design with her backup being IT and computer work (another passion of hers)

She started dating Sebastian when she met him during a trip to a small computer repair store in ZuZu city

He thought she was cute so he gave her his number and they met at Stardrop Saloon

She felt a need to like him, not because she was actually attracted to him in any way, but because she was a ~closeted lesbian~

So that relationship didn’t last too long

Ok maybe a little

2 years

But she’s bad at cutting off things, ok?

That’s when she realized she liked her best friends... Sandy and Emily

Emily and Sandy were already in a pretty open relationship by the time Pheobe came around, but it still took her some courage to admit her feelings to them.

They started dating when all three of them were around 26.

Emily moved with her sister Haley to pelican town a year into their relationship, and Sandy and Pheobe followed.

They bought a car so Sandy could maintain her shop in the desert

There is now a house where that garden that Harvey stands in 25/8 is. And Sandy and Pheobe live there. I don’t make the rules.

Pheobe and Emily work together on a small clothing company, they design the clothes together, Emily makes them, Pheobe made a website and uploads them there, and Sandy sells some at her shop :D

The three of them would like to tie the knot one day, but right now they’re super content on where they are, so sometime in the future :)

[samwrights]

Aoba Johsai 3rd Years as dads [hc]

Lmao, as if I was gonna stop at Karasuno. I’m a Seijoh hoe through and through 😂😂😂 this ones a little off the rails but it’s my blog and I write what I want. I’ll get to the rest of Seijoh later, maybe, but these turned out way longer than I anticipated.

Slight TW; mentions of miscarriage.

Iwaizumi;

I love this supportive man so much 🥺

I don’t even want kids and I’d let him turn me into a baby factory, idgaf.

Ahem, n e ways.

Low key, he would be freaking out over your guys’ first kid. Didn’t matter that you were in live-in S/O’s, or that you’d been together for y e a r s.

Homie wanted to marry you first, finally get you guys out of your shoddy apartment, maybe spend a few years traveling the world.

He wanted to live the life of a dink, at least for a little while before eventually starting a family with you. Apparently someone’s pullout game weak af.

Despite not being prepared for parenthood, your pregnancy actually goes pretty swimmingly. Iwa would def be the man to come with to all doctors appointments, parenting classes, and would literally call his mom every three seconds freaking out because he has no idea what color to paint the nursery.

“Mom, I can’t just paint it whatever, what if the baby doesn’t like it?” Don’t ask me why, I just know it would be a fact.

Throughout your relationship as teenagers, Iwa was always your hype-man cause he loves flaunting his woman at whatever she chooses to succeed at. Which made Oikawa hella jealous but irrelevant. Now that you guys were going to be a family, it was like falling in love with you all over again and he literally hyped you up everyday with how great of a mom you were going to be.

Endless comments on how beautiful you looked while pregnant, regarding your glow or how he gets so overwhelmed with love knowing that you are having his child. Fucking simp.

If you feel he’s laying it on too thick, you tell him it’s actually Mattsun’s and Iwa is just a cover so you can run off with him and Makki. 0/10, does not appreciate.

The closer you get to your due date, however, all jokes are completely off, and Hajime is in full on protective husband/dad mode. Did I mention y’all still ain’t married or

He does literally everything for you just to make sure you aren’t in too much pain or discomfort. Mfer won’t even let you pick up a laundry basket 💀

“Honey, I’m fine! Please, I can’t sit on the couch all day, there’s going to be a permanent imprint from my ass on it.”

“Baby, why is the couch wet?”

“Huh. Guess my water broke.”

Annnnnnd cue Hajime screaming his head off while proceeding to grab your hospital bag packed with clothes, a spare aux cable, and your toiletries, before rushing out to the car, starting it, and driving to the hospital.

Without you.

With that being his only major faux pas, Iwaizumi welcomes fatherhood with open arms. Sure, y’all didn’t have your house yet and a wedding was going to be difficult to plan (though if you’re down for the courthouse, he was in), and he didn’t have enough saved to buy you a ring that screamed “Mrs. Iwaizumi” to him.

But in the mean time, he could not get enough of his girls. Even little things like feeding your daughter or watching tv with her in his arms with you snuggling up to his side made him the absolute softest boy.

It may not have been his ideal situation in the past, but now all he looked forward to was watching your family continue to grow with a few more hopeful additions.

Oikawa;

Well this is awkward. You and Tooru I mean Oikawa broke up a few months ago. Not that it was a particularly bad break up; definitely more on the mutual side.

You wanted to continue pursuing your dreams and he wanted to carry on being a Pro. (Personally, I picture Oikawa being with a musician of some sort that posts covers of YouTube).

So even though you guys aren’t together anymore, you still keep up with how he’s doing in the pro VB world and he low key still watches your covers on the internet.

Your posting becomes less and less frequent, he notices over the span of a few months until you stop uploading all together. He thinks nothing of it until he gets a notification that you’ve finally uploaded a video. Two. Years. Later.

“Where we’ve been.” He doesn’t miss the collective pronoun before clicking on the video, seeing you standing with your guitarist, the former Nekoma VBC captain, Tetsurou Kuroo, as well as a cute, pudgy baby.

A baby that looked nothing like Kuroo and a whole lot like Oikawa did when he was a baby.

The video talks about your hiatus, as well as how you and your now boyfriend/guitarist were enjoying your life as parents and making music was hard with your little boy, and that the two of you needed to prioritize your son first. you introduce your baby, but the first thing Oikawa discovers is that the age of your baby and the duration of yours and Kuroo’s relationship didn’t add up. Don’t ask me why Oikawa knows how long you’ve been together, he has his resources.

Considering the toddler was two, and you and Kuroo had been together for a year. And the baby didn’t look anything like you OR him

Oikawa is flipping out now, and tries everything in his power to get a hold of you. Which oddly enough, wasn’t that hard considering your number is still the same.

“Did you finally figure it out?” Was all you said to him. He’s so upset that you didn’t tell him—that could have been him. Standing with you. Holding his baby—not bed headed fuck holding HIS son.

After FTing him, you, Oikawa, and Kuroo agreed to set up a meeting with all of you so Oikawa could finally meet his flesh and blood. He’s excited, but man oh man is he salty.

He missed his son’s first steps, first meal, holding him, teaching him how to walk, his first words; he missed ALL of it.

But the bitterness he feels completely goes away when he sees baby Oik’s in person for the first time. He had never, in his entire twenty three years of living, been in love until now. Despite your hesitation, you allow Tooru to hold his child for the entirety of your little meeting, allowing him to make up for lost years.

The three of you agreed on a form of joint custody that allowed Oikawa to have his son while you toured or were busy working, and you would have him while he was out doing his thing.

TL;DR, Oikawa takes the opportunity to make up his lost years spoiling the fuck out of his baby when he can and, oddly enough, the arrangement works out to benefit the both of you.

Ngl, parenthood is hard for him. Not because he doesn’t know how to parent, but rather because he never pictured his first child to come about this way. He would never admit it to anybody, not even Iwa, that knowing he had a child that he was barely a father to left him feeling lonely. That loneliness, however, motivates him to truly be the best dad that can be so that maybe when his son his old enough, he would rather live with him instead of his mom

Ofc, he teaches his offspring how to play volleyball as soon as he’s old enough to learn. But outside of that, Oikawa’s favorite thing to do with his son is little quiet nature walks away from the bustling city to have quality time with him.

Hanamaki;

This chill mfer 💀💀💀 for some reason, I feel like his love language is touch.

Your relationship with him was so simple, even after moving in together in your second year of college, years ago.

Well, it was simple.

As simple as life could be with four demons overrunning your house.

Due to the number of children the two of you had, with all of them being no more than two years apart in age, you became a stay-at-home mom, leaving Makki to provide for the six of you.

Because of your hellions wreaking havoc on you all day, Takahiro always wound down from work with the kids by putting on a movie and even reciting the script in his own voice to keep them entertained. Allowing you to go wind down with a glass of wine while you took a bubble bath.

Your oldest was Makki’s right hand man at the ripe age of 7. He always made sure that, as the big brother, he was looking out for his siblings and being the man of the house to help mommy while he worked.

Makki never raises his voice at the kids. Ever. Period.

If he’s upset with them or they did something they weren’t supposed to, he resolves the issue by picking them up, sitting down on the couch with them in his lap and staring at them. “Why did you draw on the walls with crayon, little man?” He would ask the offending five year old boy in the most calm voice.

“I wanted to paint a pretty picture for you and mommy!”

“And we love it. But next time, dude, if you put it on paper, I can bring those pictures to work so I can show everyone else.” Yeah, he calls his sons dude.

If his youngest and only daughter began crying over anything—Makki was on it like flies on shit. Little princess is not allowed to cry in daddy’s presence. He’s always quick to figure out why she’s crying too and, he learned, it’s mostly just because she wanted attention.

“When did you get so good at this?” You’d tease him.

“We’ve had lots of practice, honey.” 💀💀💀

A lot of the time, he felt really bad because he felt that he just kinda left you with the kids while he worked, and he’d be a little insecure. He thinks you’re tired of him and that you want to leave sometimes.

He thinks you don’t notice when he’s upset but he kinda dumb dumb cause you’ve been together for almost half of your lives, ofc you know when he’s upset.

While he’s laying in bed, nonchalantly scrolling through his phone before falling asleep for the night, you sit at his bedside, giving him the look. “C’mon, Takahiro. I can tell when something’s bothering you.” His lips would purse a little bit before locking his phone and putting it on his night stand, then holding whatever hand of yours that was closest to him with both of his.

“Ya ever just...get tired of our life?” Aksfnrjfl WOW THAT CAME OUT WRONG. This is why he prefers touch, he’s shit with words. “Wait no, that’s not what I meant. D-do, uh...a-are you happy?” Wow he really shit with words. Even if this would be conversation y’all would have at least once a year.

But no matter how many times you told him you loved him, he needed to feel it. Why do you think you ended up pregnant nearly every year? “I’m getting my fucking tubes tied after this, Makki.”

Matsukawa;

This goof would be your partner in crime second to Makki of course.

Half the time people kinda forgot you were dating let alone married because the two of you had always been playful and full of laughter; the only change was PDA was sprinkled in.

Sitting in his lap, little pecks during conversations, burying yourself in his neck or him burying himself in your hair, a hand always on your back or your shoulder.

Homies super subtle touchy.

The biggest reminder was when you’d announced your pregnancy to your friends. While Makki was super excited to be an uncle, Oikawa and Iwa were kinda like “y’all actually have sex??” Like you weren’t fucking married??

But whatever, y’all goofy and in love or w/e and it almost seems that the two of you aren’t taking pregnancy seriously. You totally are, but your friends don’t think so.

Coming up with baby names was Issei’s favorite pastime. But he went super left field with a lot of them, so you unfortunately had to veto them.

Painting and preparing the nursery was also an absolute blast. Because you both wanted the gender to be a surprise, y’all painted the room white on top with a full rainbow on the bottom, complete with gender neutral wall decals.

Honestly, he was so so so excited to be a dad. But mostly, he was just so smitten with you. It wasn’t hard for him to, considering the two of you were best friends long before dating.

He definitely turned your ultrasound pictures into memes that he hung in the babies room. “The last time I got pussy” captioned under the first ultrasound was his favorite.

You woke up one day in excruciating amounts of pain—like someone was carving out the muscles in your stomach and separating them from the skin from the inside and you knew something was wrong. “Issei, we gotta go to the hospital now!”

“N-now?” All jokes are gone, all laughter void and absent. “Honey, you’re only at the end of the first trime—“

“I know, idiot! We gotta go now!” You’re sobbing while hunching over your stomach, trying to walk but not succeeding in getting very far. Instead, your husband opts to carry you out to the car before zipping on over.

The sudden appointment had taken hours and the both of you felt drained. Well, you actually were. All of the pain you had experienced earlier in the day did not compare to the devastating blow of hearing that you had a miscarriage.

Silence fills every space that the two of you were in but, knowing you as well as he did, Mattsun refused to leave your side. Even if you had to pee.

“Babe, I have to pee.”

“Cool, which bathroom do we wanna use?” He wasn’t making jokes for the sake of being funny, which was the reason you allowed him to sit on the edge of the tub while you handled your business, holding your fingers in loose threads. It’s weird, but this was not a time for either of you to be alone to indulge your demons.

“We’re gonna get through this.” His arms would wrap around you from behind, carefully folding over your once filled womb, with his head resting on top of your own. “Just you and me, babe, against the world.”

“And Makki.”

“And Makki.”

[vlogsquadssquad]

Model for me

summary: (pre relationship) David wants to start taking sexy pictures for his instagram. for aesthetic purposes you agree.

a/n: I badly wanted to turn this smutty but I also have more pics for this theme. let me know if you want a part 2!

warning: slight n*dity, swear words. 

mood board:

“i’ve never done this before. it’s kinda weird.” you laugh nervously. “yeah, i haven’t either. if you’re having second thoughts we don’t have to..” david smiled to me. “no, no. i want to. it’s just i’ve never gotten naked in front of someone who... 1. wasn’t my boyfriend & 2. who wasn’t about to have sex with me.” davids cheeks blush at the thought of you and sex. he clears his throat. “well, today will be a first.”

david loves taking disposable pictures of his friends but one thing he’s been introduced to lately is nude or sexy disposable pictures for his page. he was complaining to the rest of the friend group about it. you promptly offered your services. you modeled here and there but you were mostly an actress. you’ve been nude on screen before but never in front of someone who was a deep, personal friend. he got really excited and showed you his inspiration. the pictures were beautiful and you agreed to be his first. nude model, that is.

“so obviously i want it to be very sexy. maybe take your hair down? messy hair is what i want to go for.” you and David were alone in his bedroom, everyone else was off shooting or still hungover.

you took your hair down and looked in his mirror in the bathroom. you teased your hair a little. luckily you curled your hair last night so there were slight loose curls. you smudged your makeup slightly to give that, steamy look. he watched as you tended to yourself. he knew you were incredibly beautiful. but all let loose like this, he couldn’t stop his imagination from roaring. you glanced to him through the mirror and he smiled. “it’s perfect. you look so good.” “thank you, david.” you pat his shoulder as you walk out of the bathroom.

“you know the fans are going to go wild and think we’re together” you both giggle as you pick up your phone to respond to a business text. “should we do it in my bed, or? should we go to a hotel. i don’t mind either way.” you glance up to him. he looks nervous. “we can just do it here. that’s the beauty of shoots like this. they cost little to no money.” you point to the closet like a question and davids nods his head. “yeah, you’re right. it’ll be fine.” he yells to you as you enter the closet.

“can you hand me the sheet?”

“the what?” he peaks in the closet & it met with your naked body. his eyes darken with lust as he goes over your naked body. “david!!” you scream and laugh. he snaps out of it, “i’m honestly so fucking sorry i didn’t realize-“ “just hand me the sheet to your bed!” you laugh still. he loved you were able to laugh at yourself and not take it too seriously. you wrapped the sheet around yourself and headed to davids bed. he adjusted the curtains for lighting and then looked at you laying in his bed, naked.

“hold it there.” he snaps a picture.

he admires you for a second after the picture is taken. blown away by your natural sexiness. you usually keep it a mystery and you aren’t one to flaunt. but today you are. and david is soaking it all up. he takes more pictures and loves that you take direction so easily. the pictures come out amazing. 

------

David posts the pictures a few days later with your approval and fans go nuts. he captioned each picture, “perks of being friends with a model.” but fans still speculate a romance. 

comments...

these are definitely post sex pictures! 

just date already

“friends” okayyy... 

y/n is so sexy. pls date me

“id really like our next shoot to have France vibes.” David says which draws you from the comments. “yeah, that'd be so cool! im down when you're down.”

------

“so I brought some things for the shoot today.” you yell out as you enter davids house. “awesome, whatcha got?” he muffles as he eats a cupcake. then he notices your white dress (pic 3 below) and gulps. “well I have lingerie, don't know how you feel about that, but its there,” davids eyes widen at the thought of you in lingerie. maybe this shoot idea wasn't such a good idea. “I also have a big faux fur jacket in my car and this mirror!” you pick up the old, gold mirror with incredible detail. “wow, I love all of it!” David smiles, “ I also have some props. these are Natalies cupcakes but we can have a couple,” he had a smirk on his face “I also have newspaper and a tea platter, cup combo, I don't know whatever this is.” you giggle. “this one is gonna be crazy I can't wait!”

you head to davids bedroom once again to do the shoot. “closet again?”

“well actually, I like that dress...” davids thinking face was on. “here eat this cupcake and go against that wall. um, do it... seductively. i’m doing mouth down.” 

“ok, I think we got a few good ones. lets do the lingerie next.” you nod and head to davids closet with the other half of the cupcake. you put it on and walk across the room to check your phone and davids eyes follow you. he's breathless. you tilt your head up and finish the cupcake. David snaps a quick picture and it turns out to be his favorite. 

after a while David directs you outside with the fur jacket and nothing on. “spin around for me. I love the candid ones.” he looks to you with love in his eyes and you spin around giggling. “faster, go, go, go! throw up!” you laugh harder and after a few more snaps you head back inside his room. 

you strip from the jacket and you're now completely naked in front of your crush. he can't stop scanning your body when you break him out of his trance. “do I need to leave you two alone?” eyeing his pants. he looks down and his face goes red. “no, fuck, sorry. its been a while.” he mentally kicks himself for saying that and you blush. you grab the mirror and take a couple shots with the reflections. 

next David grabs the teacup and newspapers from the kitchen and gives himself a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘she's just a friend’ he thinks to himself.

-----

“I want these to be a little more casual. so maybe not completely nude. after the last photo session, the fans need a break.” you laugh at his joke and nod your head in agreement. “for sure, well I didn't bring anything today but I wore a cute bra.” you pulled your giant cardigan up from falling off your shoulder. David smiles with his tongue slightly out. “that's perfect”

you take photos around his house which are way more laid back than the photos from a week ago. 

comments...

bet you they hooked up and so they're taking a break from completely nude.

she's the best as innocent sexiness.

am I the only one whose sick of her?

 is she tied up? they're def hooking up!!!

“do you see these comments? people are sick of me!” you laugh at David. “how can that be? makes no sense” he smirks back at you. you so badly want to kiss him, but how can you kiss him when he puts you in this box as friends. he kept looking at you as you scrolled through more comments with only one thought in his head. ‘God, I want to show her I could never get sick of her.’ 

-----

part 2? I have more pics to post with this storyline and I really wanna wrap it up with smut during a shoot. let me know!

[ickle-ronniekins]

erica paint me a word picture of how george would handle his wife needing to take a mental health break from work?

can this be real pls also a la duet???

also not to be mean but i may or may not have made myself cry (but def did)

You wondered, as you placed your head down onto your kitchen table, just how much more you could handle.

It wasn’t that you weren’t strong. You were. More than, actually. But since the end of the war, things had been never-ending, and you’d been working tirelessly.

Your husband, also working ridiculous hours, seemed to enjoy it. He’d climb into bed at night, slide his body next to yours and wrap his hands delicately around your waist. He’d feverishly whisper against your neck about everything going on -- how busy the shop had been, the new line of products he and his twin had been working on, how many new people they’d needed to hire due to the sheer volume of customers that had been coming in. But even on the nights when he asked you how your day had gone, you’d be sound asleep in his arms before you’d been able to tell him.

Familiar hands grasped your shoulders gingerly. He traced his fingers gently down, only to wrap his arms around your waist. He pressed a kiss to your hair and murmured, “You alright, love?”

“’Course,” you breathed, but your voice was tried and delicate. The war had taken a toll on everyone, and with your mental health still healing from the aftermath, work had taken a toll on you, too.

“You’re my wife,” he said, and you could feel his grin against you. It was difficult not to smile at the statement, too. “I know when you’re not alright.”

You sucked in a breath. “Just a bit tired,” you told him, turning around and placing a hand gently to his cheek. His red hair glistened brightly against the sunlight flooding your flat. “Works’ been hectic lately.”

“You haven’t slept in days.”

You swallowed down the all too familiar lump that appeared in your throat. “Yeah.. insomnia’s back.”

“Meditation’s no help?’

You shook your head. “Not this time round. Tried to do some guided ones. Just kept me up. Chamomile tea seems to be working, just barely.”

“Why don’t you take a much needed break?”

You scoffed. “George, don’t be ridiculous. I simply can’t.”

“Actually, it’s more than simple.”

The soft grin from him alone was enough to make you melt into a puddle onto the floor. You smiled at him and weakly replied, “You’re sweet. But I really can’t. And even if I could, we need the money.” You stood up from the table and cupped his chin in your hands. “I’ll be fine. Promise”

“Of course you will,” George replied as he squeezed your hips. His voice was stern, but had a softness to it you recognized very well. “Because you’re going to take a break. At the very least, three days. You need to sleep. You need to eat. You need to relax your muscles. You’re on your feet all bloody day. I’ll take up a few extra hours at the shop.”

“George--”

“--plus, Fred will be there to help. Ron, too. We’ve kind of roped him into it. Hermione’s idea.”

“--this is ridiculous--”

He wasn’t listening. “--you’ll be back to new in no time!”

“But--”

He silenced you with a soft kiss. When he pulled away, he tapped your nose with his pointer finger. “Nope. No ‘but’s’. Only ‘yes’s’. You need a bit of time off, darling, and I’m not taking no for an answer. Yeah?”

You swallowed thickly. You knew you weren’t going to get out of this no matter how much you fought it, and you were too tired to argue. Plus, the idea of a long afternoon nap to de-tense did seem rather inviting..

A small grin lifted your cheeks and you nodded at your husband. “Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Now, I’m going to make you a cup of tea, draw you a bath, and light those soothing candles you love so much. Can you do something for me?”

You poked him in the chest and peered up at him questioningly. “What’s that?”

“Can you give me a hug?”

You giggled at the very child-like phrase he used, and you were immediately transported back to your days at school when he’d acted so silly. He’d grown up. But he was still silly.

You looked up at him, your chin digging into his chest. “Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to your nose. “Anything for my girl.”

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 17

"How's that?"

Stewart vibrated as his back and facial panels slid back into place; his metallic body buzzed loudly against the table he was sitting on, and the noise made Petra and Merlin both jump.  Eli started returning various tools and spools of wire to the toolbox she'd borrowed from Selene (a second, different set of borrowed tools - that woman had no shortage of miscellaneous tools, materials, and doodads sitting around) and then waited for Stewart's systems to reboot.

A flurry of images and briefly flashing text projected out in front of the AI's "face" as he came back online then his usual polite, smiling expression was staring them down as he stood up.  "I do not detect anything out of place.  Who would you like me to test this on?"

"Arlo.  He's up top waiting."

Stewart's face blanked for a brief instant before being replaced with a stylized speaker icon.  "Hello Arlo.  Are you able to hear me?" ((Continued below cut))

There was a pause, then sounding out from somewhere near Stewart's shoulder came "I hear you, Stewart.  I'm not hearing any static or interference either - you're nice and clear."

"Good.  Ending transmission."  Stewart's face came back and he gave Eli a nod.  "It would seem you've successfully patched me into your Hi-Def's network."

"Good to hear.  That was easier than expected."  Eli flipped the toolbox closed and turned to Merlin and Petra.  "And thanks for the extra hands."

"Not a problem. It was quite educational to watch someone who is knowledgeable about the inner workings of an AI work," Petra replied with a smile.

Merlin nodded at her.  "Indeed.  When we first obtained Wendy we didn't feel confident to examine her components too closely -- we simply patched in her new power supply and that was it.  Having now seen Stewart's inner parts I feel much more at ease with the thought of potential future repairs."

"Here's to hoping it'll be well in the future before anything gives out," Eli replied.  She glanced to her Hi-Def - it was just past noon.   "I'm going to go check in with Selene, then I have a training session with Arlo and I might also be checking in with Martha this evening.  If you guys need anything I SHOULD, assuming nothing goes wrong, be either at the Civil Corps building, Martha's, or out in the fields near Selene's place."

Petra nodded and took one of the toolboxes from the table.  "We planned on checking on some of the plumbing down here, which shouldn't be more than we can handle."

With a wave over her shoulder Eli left and began to trek to the elevator; Selene was down in Stewart's room, inside Stewart's docking station.  There was a hatch-style door in the floor that supposedly led down to the final sub-level that held Stewart's severs and, since Stewart was unable to release the locks for it, they were having to painstakingly cut their way through the thick steel.

They'd managed to weasel out a bit more information on what Stewart claimed was the absolute, last, bottom floor to this place: it had been a late addition to the facility - added nearly nine months after the rest of the place had been constructed.  It was built by tunneling underwater from the nearby river (a river that she remembered well but it didn't exist anymore) and had been used as a sort of secretive, non-disruptive way to move equipment and people in and out of the facility.  By Stewart's explanation it was quicker and more efficient; it seemed to make perfect sense to the AI but with Eli it didn't sit well with her since he'd seemed to imply that the majority of people working within this facility hadn't even been told it was there.

At the very least, since the river was gone (there's no way the marsh could be THIS deep) and Stewart showed no signs of damage anywhere in his connection to his servers, Eli was fairly confident that it'd be an easy job to get his server banks out of there once they managed to get to them -- no water meant no current flooding and no apparent damage likely meant no previous flooding had happened either.

Though, to think that the river that provided all of Dubei with water was-

 Don't think about it.

It was a bit of a walk to get down to Stewart's room; when she entered through the glass doors she could already smell the metallic tang of burnt metal, and could just barely make out the flicker of flame within the pillar that housed Stewart's docking station.

"How's it going?" she called.  There wasn't an immediate answer but the flicker went out; she reached the pillar and bent to peer around the corner.  "Selene?"

"Yeah, it's going," came the woman's disgruntled response.  The builder was kneeling on the floor with a cutting torch in hand, and there was a pile of what looked like severed bolt heads sitting on the ground next to her knees.  "Stupid dumb door and its stupid dumb lock."

Eli laughed quietly; Selene flipped up the heavy welding facemask she was wearing and shifted to look up at her.

"Just a few more bolts to get out and then I can flip the top half of this hatch back and get inside at the lock," Selene continued.  "I have no idea what you all used to tighten these damn things but they may as well be cemented in place."

"AIs with impact wrenches, probably.  And a lack of lubrication over the centuries is likely why they're basically bonded to the hatch now."

Selene blew out a sigh that quickly turned into a raspberry.  "Pain in my butt.  Anyway, it'll probably be another day before I punch through the top, and then no idea how long it'll take to get the lock to release or cut through it."

Straightening with a nod Eli glanced back toward the door; she thought she'd heard footsteps and would rather not get cornered in a room with the scholars.  "If you need any help let me know."

"Will do - though at the moment there's not much anyone can do to help.  Not enough room in here for too many people and I only have this one torch that's strong enough besides."

"Want me to stand here with a palm leaf and fan you?"

Selene snorted and flashed her a brief smile before flipping her mask back down.  "Talk to me in another hour or two and I might take you up on that. It stinks in here."

"I'll ask Stewart and see if he can up fan speed in this room to get some higher airflow temporarily - see if that helps with the smell any."

"Thanks Eli."

She left the builder woman to her work and made the long trek back to the surface; Arlo was sitting at the (currently extinguished) firepit, with Asher and Mali.  The three of them looked up as she walked over.

"Arlo was telling me you had a busy afternoon but when you have some time I'd like to speak to you about some security methods I think we could try," was Mali's greeting when Eli was close enough.

"Sure thing."  She glanced between the three of them; Adam was likely still asleep since he'd taken the overnight shift.  "Any particular reason or are we just throwing things at the wall to see what sticks?"

"Seeing what sticks," Mali answered.  "Still no sign of our guest - they're either gone or not falling for the plan."

"Or being overly cautious since whoever it is knows at least one of us is armed," Eli said after a pause, gesturing toward her waist.   Currently the gun was holstered at the small of her back but it was clear what she was referring to.

Speaking of guns Selene had recently shown her some blueprints of rifles that her little factory could make -- assuming that Selene could get the needed materials.  It was mostly a metal-and-springs issue, something that Selene assured her could all be gathered in the ruins around Portia.  It was on Eli's To Do list...she might not be able to quick draw a rifle like she could the revolver but her accuracy at long distances would go up dramatically.  

"Wish they'd just get it over with - either make it clear they've left or let us catch them," Asher grumbled.  "Hate feeling like something is watching me."

Eli shrugged.  "It'll sort itself out one way or the other."  She looked to Arlo.  "Ready?" He nodded and got up off the stump he was using as a seat; she turned around and took a few steps then stopped.   "Oh, right-"  She tapped a pair of fingers to her Hi-Def's screen.   "Call user: Stewart."  

The screen highlighted Stewart's name, then a moment later enlarged the text so that his name was all that showed on the screen.  After a few seconds the screen took on a green tint.  "-hey, Stewart?"

"How may I assist you, Eli?"

"Selene's still down in your station and the smell is starting to get to her.  Could you adjust the air circulation for that room only?"

"I can, yes, but instead it may be more efficient to adjust my station's circulation."

"Whichever will help with the metal fumes.  Might even cool that area down some."

"I shall do so then.  Anything else?"

"That's it, thanks."  She palmed over the screen to end the call and put the Hi-Def back on stand by then glanced over her shoulder at Arlo. "Right, ok.  NOW I'm ready."

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

"Hello!"

The cheerful call came from the direction of the door; Xu couldn't actually see the door from where he was bent over organizing a drawer in his desk but he recognized the voice easily enough.

"Good afternoon Lily.  I haven't seen you in awhile."

There was the sound of footsteps approaching and by the time he straightened the girl was standing at his desk smiling politely.

"Oh I know.  I went home for a week to catch up with my mom.  Is Harrison not working today?"

"I'm afraid I sent him on an errand right before you arrived so he'll be gone at least a half hour, if not longer."

Lily nodded, scrunching up her lips and nose for a moment.  "Well!   That's ok.  I'll see him eventually.  I actually wanted to ask YOU something too."

"Oh?"  Xu bent again to quickly push the drawer shut; it wasn't a pressing matter to get the new patient files in alphabetical order right this instant, after all.  "Are you feeling ill?"

"No no, nothing like that," Lily said with a wave of her hand.   "Harrison told me how you had a machine that changed hair color and I was wondering how it worked and how much it'd cost."

"Ah, yes," Xu replied with a chuckle.  He gestured over at the Uplifter and Lily followed the gesture with her eyes.  "That's the machine there and, from what I understand, it interacts on a molecular level to temporarily instruct your body to use an injected dye rather than your naturally made melanin to color your hair.  It also adjusts the melanin already present so that the hair you already have matches the color that will be growing out of your scalp.  It IS, as I said, a temporary measure however and will only last three or four months.  I am uncertain about the long-term effects of this procedure however so I would caution you to think it over."

Lily hummed and rocked back and forth, staring at the machine.  "Has anyone tried it yet?"

"A few people.  So far they've not reported any issues though they would be beyond the time period that the procedure would still be working...at that point I imagine it would be no different than having applied a dye directly to your hair -- your natural hair color would be returning."

"Cool..." she sighed.  She continued to stare the machine down for a moment before looking back to him.  "What colors can it do?  Can it do purple?"

"Well..." he started.  "I believe so.  I know it can handle the full spectrum of what one would consider natural colors.  I would need to find the manual for it to provide a full list of examples."

Lily blinked at him.  "Manual?  Like an instruction book?"

Xu nodded.  "Indeed.  My assistant recently moved into her own practice so we had to separate out our belongings, so to speak.  The manual has been misplaced but I'm certain we'll find it once she's fully unpacked.  I would need it to know what settings to use to get the intended color."

"Ah...  Ok!  I'll just have to wait to see if the book turns up then.  I had another question too -- Harrison said it could...alter faces?"

"Yes," Xu said slowly.  "Based on the information we found with it this machine was originally a gift to a woman who was known to be very beautiful.  The face-altering function seems to have been aimed at allowing her to look young and lovely, no matter how much she aged."

Lily wrinkled her nose.  "That sounds weird.  All that effort to not even look different...  Is it permanent?"

"I can't see how it would ever revert as its a surgical process.   Thus far I've managed to turn it into a medical procedure to help those with facial wounds."

She nodded.  "I think he said something about cleft lips.  THAT sounds way more useful than...the other thing.  How does THAT work, anyway?"

"Well..." Xu said, scratching at the top of his head; he glanced to the Uplifter, wishing more than ever that the manual hadn't gone missing.  "There's terminology in that particular part of the manual that I still don't fully understand but based on my best guess, the machine scans your face, saves a picture of it within itself, and then somehow makes a two-dimensional image into a three-dimensional one and fills in any imperfections or removes any blemishes, then somehow recreates that corrected image from your own flesh and blood.  You do have control over what it will or won't do, mind you, but a lot of it is...how was it worded... "artificial intelligence-guided algorithmic corrections."

He looked back to her and saw the utterly blank look on her face and smiled.  "Believe me, I felt just as you look right now when I read that part."

"I haven't the faintest clue what any of that meant but at least it can still help people," Lily said after a pause.  She then straightened her back and gave him a smile.  "I'll be back later if I don't see Harrison before then -- and DEFINITELY will be back for my purple hair!"

Xu smiled and waved as she bounced toward the door.  "Have a good afternoon, Lily."

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

"-and Carol said your fabric was on back order," Harrison said.   "She's hoping it'll be in next Tuesday with the rest of her missing order."

"At least we're not in any danger of running out of bandages before then," Xu replied.

Harrison waited for Xu to take the last few bottles out of the basket before he returned the basket to its place inside a cabinet.  Most of the supplies Xu had ordered had come through - empty glass bottles for storing liquids, small sealable pots for salves and lotions, tongue depressors, cotton-tipped swab sticks.  He'd also ordered a large roll of plain cotton fabric to cut and fashion into bandages; there was a woman here in town named Carol who tended to order fabrics in bulk so Xu always put in his order with hers to save them both on shipping costs but apparently her entire order had been held up somewhere.

"Did you happen to run into Lily on your way back?"

Harrison spun around to face Xu.  "What?  No, I didn't.  She's back?"

Xu chuckled at him.  "She is.  She came in asking after you, and also after hair color.  I certainly hope Phyllis finds that manual among her things...  I still can't see how it got misplaced, I'm so certain I always return it to same place each time."

"Yeah..." Harrison hummed - he had only half heard Xu; the bulk of his brain was celebrating the fact that Lily had come back like she said she would.   "Did she mention if she'd come back here, later?"

"Yes," Xu laughed.  "Go on - go find her then.  You've already completed today's lesson AND the errand I needed you to take care of so I don't have anything else that was planned for the day."

Harrison stood, unable to keep a grin from his face.  "Thanks, doctor!"

He grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door; where would Lily have gone... Maybe the town hall?  She would need to rent another room at the Happy Apartments while she was here.  But maybe she'd already done that...well.  He had to start SOMEWHERE.  He hurried down the hill with his jacket flapping over his arm, scanning around him as he went; she wasn't at town hall, and she wasn't at the Round Table.  Portia wasn't a large place but it would still be pretty easy to miss her if he just ran around like a madman.

He hurried down to the central plaza - it was large and open and if she was there she'd be easy to spot... And it didn't appear she was here either.  Oh well. From the plaza there was a set of stairs that led up to the hill that the clinic and Civil Corps building was perched on; Harrison hated climbing these particular stairs but from here it'd be quicker than walking all the way around to go up the hill near the cemetary.  With a huff he started his jog up, and was puffing and out of breath by the time he reached the top.

But, he did spy a familiar figure approaching the clinic from the other direction.

"Lily!"

She looked up at his shout and then waved happily at him.

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

"He's been reading more now than he ever has..." Martha murmured, glancing toward a door behind her that Eli assumed led to Toby's room.   "It's honestly shocking.  He never was one to take to homework."

Eli smiled and helped herself to another slice of the raisin bread that was on the table between the two of them.  "Well, he's technically doing homework he wants to do now so I guess that's the difference."

Martha smiled and took another piece of bread herself.  "It's such a relief, even if it does mean that he's thrown himself at the...at the adventurer's path."  Her smile faltered a moment and she limply dropped the bread onto the little saucer in front of her.  "I can't bear the thought of losing him like I did his father."

"I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't have a high chance of happening.  I can't promise it never will though," Eli added after a moment.  "He is, however, doing well and actually focusing on the lessons I'm giving him.  I thought all the bookwork would bore him but...well, it's not.  Which I find surprising for someone his age."

Martha nodded; she seemed to force herself to take a bite of the bread and it took ages for her to swallow it.  "-he's been quite the chatterbox about your lessons so I know what he's learning.  I just hope it'll be enough."

"When he becomes an adult it'll be up to him to make all the right choices and keep himself safe," Eli said after a moment.  She offered the woman a sympathetic smile.  "Who knows - you might be raising the next big hero.  I'd say the next Peach but I fu- I freaking hope not because that'd mean the world went to hell again."

That managed to bring a smile back to the woman's face and she seemed much happier when she took her next bite.  From the other side of the door she'd indicated a moment ago there was a loud scraping noise then several thumps before the door was flung open with Toby framed within it with his arms full of papers and books.

"Mom, I nee- hi Eli!"

"Toby, stop yelling in the house," Martha sighed as the boy came hurrying over.  She very narrowly managed to move a plate of butter out of the way before he plopped the books and paper down in a haphazard pile.  "Toby!"

"Sorry mom.  Eli - what's the difference between venomous and poisonous?"

Eli scooted her plate out of harm's way and dusted cinnamon off her fingertips; the papers were full of Toby's messy handwriting but she could read it well enough to see that he was dutifully copying (and even illustrating) notes out of an animal guide she'd managed to buy and give to him.  "Venomous means if IT bites YOU you'll die.  Poisonous means if YOU bite IT you'll die."

Toby snickered.  "That's dumb - I wouldn't just BITE an animal.  But that's the answer?"

"Yep.  Venomous basically means an animal can't poison you unless they bite or sting you first. Poisonous means you have to touch it, eat it, or otherwise inhale or ingest the poison to be poisoned.  A simple rule of thumb is to be watching for stingers, fangs, or bright colors, but THE safest way of dealing with either poison or venom is watch where you're putting your feet or hands and avoid touching any animal or insect as much as possible -- and even if said animal or insect is something you know for a fact isn't harmful you shouldn't be bothering them anyway.  You never know if an animal or insect is capable of spitting something at you either so it's best to just leave them alone."

"Got it..." the boy muttered, shuffling through the rumpled pile of papers.  "So I'm going to have to put poisonous in a pile and venomous in a pile and make sure I got it right because I thought those meant the same thing and they don't..."  After a moment he slapped all the papers back into one pile.  "Oh, mom!  I need more paper!"

"I'll buy more tomorrow," Martha replied.

Toby scooped everything up again and hurried out the door with a few scattered pages fluttering to the floor behind him.  Martha sighed and shook her head, and stood to go collect them.

"Well... Anyway.  When it gets warmer out and he's out of school I'll start the physical stuff," Eli said after a pause.  "If you're still willing, that is."

"No, no, I can't walk back on our agreement or else he'll think he can't trust me if I promise something," Martha said.  "I may not like it but at least I can rest easy that he's not just...just running headlong into things like he usually does."  She took a steadying breath and came back over with the sheets of notes that had been left behind.  

"I'll do my best to make sure he doesn't do something dumb," Eli said.  She stuffed the last bit of the raisin bread on her plate into her mouth and then dug into a pocket.  "-how much for a loaf of this?"

"Oh, uh - I actually don't have any more baked at the moment.  This was the last one."

"That's fine."  Eli dumped a handful of gols on the table and started sorting them into piles of 100s.  "Can I pay now for two loaves and come get them in the morning?"

Martha laughed.  "Absolutely.  Two loaves would 180 gols."

Eli shoved 300 at her.  "I'll donate toward more paper since I'm the reason he's burning through so much."

Martha carefully swept the gols up and slipped them into her apron pocket.  "Thank you, Eli.  I may hem and haw and fret like an old hen but I really do appreciate that you're teaching him how to be safe."

With a chuckle Eli headed toward the door.  "If he actually sticks with the training all the way through he'll know how to survive pretty much anything.  -- oh, right.  I meant to ask - I was going to rope Dr. Xu into this eventually, for some first aid training since mine is...oh, about 300 years out of date.  Are you all right with that?"

"Well, of course.  Why wouldn't I be?"

"I have no idea how squeamish you might be and up until today I didn't know how much he was sharing.  If he's being the chatterbox as you claim and it'll bother you then I need to set some pretty firm boundaries up front."

Martha blinked.  "Oh.  Ah.  That's a good point.  I wouldn't say I'm squeamish but..."  She took a steadying breath.  "I'll manage.  He needs to learn if he's going to be safe."

Eli nodded and put her hand on the doorknob only to jump a bit as someone knocked on the door; Gale was on the other side and he started as she opened the door to find his fist raised mid-knock.

"Oh!  What timing - I apologize for knocking in your face, Eli."

"No worries, I was just about to leave is all."

"Ah, well, I suppose 'what timing' applies a second time.  I came looking for you."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong but time IS of the essence," the man said with a chuckle.  He leaned around to peer in at Martha.  "Sorry to intrude on your home and steal your guest, Martha."

"It's no trouble, Gale."

The man chuckled and hurried out of the way so Eli could step outside.

"So what's so pressing?" Eli asked as she carefully shut the door behind her.

"Let's walk and chat," Gale suggested.  He waited for her to take the few steps needed to reach his side and then they began a leisurely stroll up the street -- Eli assumed this was going to end at the town hall.

"So!  The scholars have decided to take everything they've learned back to Atara next week and spend a few months there sharing with their peers," Gale went on.  "That will be one less thing to juggle schedules with. However: I'm expecting that shortly after their departure the pledged monetary assistance is going to arrive, and at that point we'll begin construction on expanding the clinic.  We've finalized plans with Dr. Xu to expand the building to house both more space to treat patients in, as well as a few spare rooms to use as classrooms."

Eli nodded.  "I'm aware.  I did have a question though."

Gale looked up at her.  "Yes?"

"Moving Stewart out of the facility is a good idea but I don't want the place to be abandoned except for the occasional poking about by scholars.  What are your long term plans for it?"

Gale slowed to a stop, rubbing at his chin.  "...to be frank, I haven't really thought a lot on what to do with it.  I don't think anyone gave much thought either to the other ruins around Portia - we've been scavenging what we can out of them for ages, but those ruins aren't even close to being in the same fantastic shape as the facility is so I can at least confidently say we won't be taking it apart.  Why do you ask?"

Eli blew out a long sigh.  "Well...at the risk of sounding sentimental, I just don't want to see it go unused or be torn apart.   We've been working on plans to transition it to a new, and renewable, power source, Petra and Merlin are checking that all the plumbing is still intact and working... I had thought once that maybe we could turn it into a college where Stewart could teach generations of doctors while treating patients of his own."

"That thought HAD crossed my mind but as it would be inconvenient to move the clinic itself I'll admit I'm uncomfortable with the thought of him traveling between there and the facility.  Not just from a security standpoint either, mind you -- I'm worried that if, in the future, we have a medical emergency that's beyond Dr. Xu's expertise that it would then take too long for Stewart to get back to town."

"Yeah...that's a good point," Eli said after a pause.  "Still.  I'd really love to see the place being used again.  Maybe more housing?"

Gale nodded, and then chuckled after a breath.  "Goodness knows we're going to need that soon. The Happy Apartments can only hold so many, after all, and there's only a handful of empty residences available for buyers.  If anything we could utilize it for short-term available housing, or long-term if someone is genuinely wanting to live there.   We'll definitely have work to do to make it all livable again, and we'll have to look into expanding our transportation along with..."  Gale paused and waved a hand.  "Look at me going off on a tangent, ha!  Come - let's go sit in my office and I'll get to what I I needed to speak to you about."

She nodded and they started walking again. He led the way to the town hall's door and held it open, gesturing for her to enter ahead of him; the office was spacious and a bit chilly, and smelled of paper and old books.  As he closed the door behind them Eli moved over to sit in one of the plush chairs in front of Gale's desk and a moment later Gale shuffled around the desk to lower himself into his own chair.

"Portia's fiscal year will be starting soon and I need to have our budget settled.  I wanted to ask you again if you're interested in becoming one of our Civil Corps members."

Eli leaned back in her chair, taking in a deep breath.  "...I am, but do you think Portia's folks would be all right with that?"

Gale waved a hand at her.  "I think they'll be more than all right with it - by now I'd argue you fit right in and I can't see any problems aside from the usual ones, and as I've said before if there ARE any problems you just let me know and I'll have a talk with the troublemakers.  But, from what I've seen, there's really only one person who would continue to be a problem and I like to think he'd know better than to try anything now."

A half smile twitched across her face then she cleared her throat. "Well...  What would happen with my position in the Research Center?  I don't want to leave them hanging."

Gale laughed.  "Pardon me for assuming but I didn't think for an instant that you would abandon Merlin and Petra, or anyone else for that matter.  Any and all instances of you being consulted on technological matters would be properly paid for, and your position's salary would be converted into a fund to cover such."

She smiled and shook her head; just by virtue of being alive she WAS the world expert on "Old World" tech-

 Don't think about it.

"You don't need to pay me for helping out with anything.  What it sounds like to me is most of my chosen duties won't be changing - I'll just be adding on the Civil Corps bit, right?"

Gale nodded.  "That sounds accurate...do keep in mind that if it seems like you're being buried in tasks you only need to say something -- there's a balance between being helpful and being taken advantage of.  Now...in addition to you becoming a Civil Corps member, I've had one other person requesting to sign on here for a time."

Eli blinked at him.  One other person...was it one of the Pigs?   Could they even do that?  She didn't have any real grasp on how the Flying Pigs's organizational structure worked.  "Really?  Can your budget handle two more town guards?"

Gale nodded again; he shuffled through some of the papers on his desk and pulled out one that was covered top to bottom, margin to margin, with tidy handwriting.  He turned it around toward her and picked up a pen to begin gesturing at underlined areas and numbers -- this must be a part of the budget paperwork, she realized.

"It can.  We've had additional positions budgeted for for years, just with no takers until now.  You can see how things add up here and here.  I intend to have all this printed, dated, signed, and on file for anyone to reference within a week."

With his nod of permission Eli took the handwritten budget plan and looked it over; she was somewhat familiar with budget balancing as she'd always had to sign off on anything coming out of HQ to confirm that all the numbers matched with what she had on hand or had requested for her squad.  So far as she could tell Portia's numbers all lined up nice and neat, and she could even see a few "emergency" funds had been created with the influx of trade that had come to the city over the last few years.

Of course, these numbers were way smaller than she was used to seeing and dealing with...

 Don't think about it.

She handed the paper back.  "Seems in order.  To make it official on the books consider my answer to be "yes."

Gale smiled and returned the paper to a stack on his desk.  "All right!  I'll consider this finalized for now and have the paperwork ready for you and Asher in a few days."

Ah, so it was Asher that wanted in... Well, that was an interesting development.  It at least made more sense than anyone else she could think of.

"Anything else?" she asked then.  "Not that I'm rushing out of here or anything - I just want to be sure everything is in place."

"I think we've got everything covered," Gale replied.  "Oh, yes - being as I already mentioned that this will be available for anyone in Portia to reference..."  He hopped out of his chair and motioned for Eli to follow him over to one of the bookcases.

Now that she was actively looking at them she could see that while a large number of the books seemed to be regular reading material there were several shelves full of leather-bound ledgers that were bursting with papers (and some looked old -- Eli spied more than one spine that was flaking leather and heavily worn at the middle where countless numbers of hands had touched and handled them).  Gale pointed and then, with a sweeping motion, indicated one of the lower shelves of ledgers.

"This shelf here holds what amounts to all of Portia's governing history for the last two decades.  Anyone is welcome to peruse the old records as needed.  All that's asked is you don't take the ledgers out of this office."

"Noted," she said.  "Do you get many takers on that?"

"Yes, actually," Gale chuckled.  "The budgetary highlights are usually printed in our newspaper a month or two after it's all been settled but there's a small handful of people who want to read it before the ink's even dried."

She smiled at him and glanced to the door; there wasn't much else needed here, and not much else she had to add.  Gale noted where she was looking and bustled over to the door to rest a hand on the knob.

"Thank you, Eli, for agreeing to this sudden meeting.  I hope I haven't derailed your evening too much."

"Nah, not at all."  She walked toward him and he opened the door for her.  "Have a good evening, Gale.  Let me know if you need anything else."

"I certainly will.  Good night."

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

"Gale's already told me" was Arlo's greeting when she got out to the facility the next morning.  "I'm excited to welcome you and Asher aboard."

Eli smiled as she knocked a clod of mud off the side of her boot before coming over to sit on a stump next to the firepit.  Adam was up and had eggs and bacon in a pan over the flames; Mali and Asher weren't in sight but she assumed they were both still in the tent.  "Excited to get back into my career field."

Arlo nodded, then studied her in silence for a moment.  "...is it going to be awkward for you, taking orders from someone else?"

She offered him a sly smirk.  "Not really, assuming you don't issue an order I consider stupid."

His face tinged red ever so slightly.  "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Then we're all good.  I spent years taking orders before I reached a rank where I was giving them -- I know how chains of command work and I'll do my best to remember I'm NOT in charge anymore."

Again Arlo nodded; he crossed his arms and shifted to look out over the marsh in the general direction of Portia.  "Right.  Remington is on patrol as we speak, and Sam's patrol starts when his ends.  We'll sort out a time to properly welcome you and Asher to the team and then shift patrol patterns around -- since Asher will be staying here anyway this region will be his, for sure."

Adam flipped a few pieces of bacon and grunted, looking up to them.  "Might not need the patrols if Mali's idea works."

"I know but I'd rather plan for what we can handle if it doesn't," Arlo replied.

Eli looked between the two of them.  "I haven't gotten to talk to Mali about this new idea yet so what am I in for?"

"A bunch of heavy lifting and electrical work," Adam responded before Arlo could answer.  "Assuming we can find a working door that'll fit."

"Even if it doesn't we can probably widen the hallways," Arlo picked up.  

"Hang on, a door?  What kind of door?" Eli interrupted.

Adam jerked a thumb over a shoulder toward the southeast.  "Mali's convinced we can repurpose some doors out of a ruin out that way.  Twice as thick as what's down in the facility now, lockable, and should prove to be a right pain in the ass to get through if you're not supposed to get through 'em."

Thick doors...  "Blast doors?" she asked, though more to herself than to the others.  And if it was to the east -- WOW Industries?  Or from somewhere else around here?   "A standard sized blast door is...I've no idea how we'd get blast doors out of there, much less down into here.   We'd have to remove the elevator car entirely and pray it fits down the shaft."

Adam shrugged.  "All I know is Mali remembered having to get through what she called security doors back when we first found the All Source AI - I'm not sure where she saw 'em and she didn't say when she had the idea.  She checked with your research folks and we seem to think that if we can just get 'em here and installed then we wouldn't need a constant guard up top because no one's getting in through those things if they're shut tight."

"We could still have a guard but move them down into the facility itself..." Eli mused.  "Out of the elements, in a proper apartment.   That would solve the question of what to even do with this place once Stewart's out too."

"A nice perk, if it works."

They turned around in unison to see Mali approaching them from the tent.

"The question is: do you think it's possible?" she went on as she came to stand at Adam's shoulder, gaze fixed on Eli.

"Well... Possibly.  The biggest hurdle is going to be getting it to fit down the elevator shaft - wiring is the easy part."

Mali nodded and shifted around Adam to sit on the far side of the pit from Eli.  "Then after I've eaten you and I can go looking to see if we can make it work."

"Sounds like a plan," Eli said.  After a pause she looked back to Arlo.  "I'll keep the rest of my day open so we can all meet, if that's all right?"

"I'll check in with Remington and Sam and let you know where to meet," Arlo answered with a small nod.  "And Asher, too."

"We've all got our marching orders for the day then," Eli chuckled.   She got up and stretched and, out of habit, scanned their surroundings for anything out of the ordinary.

In the distance she could see a familiar smudge of blue against the grass -- that was a gaggle of scholars heading back out this way.  She probably should have clarified with Gale on the exact date they'd be heading back home but oh well; depending on how long it took to dismantle and move a set of blast doors they might not be underfoot anymore anyway.

WOW Industries would probably have the doors that Eli was thinking of; she'd never given any thought to what it would take to move one of those things but knew they were strong enough to take heavy fire, literal fire, could seal to contain gas leaks, and also were built to immediately shut if there was ever a fluid leak too.  She had her doubts that the rubber seals would be in workable condition after all this time but so long as the doors hadn't rusted out then they'd still suffice as a security measure.

Granted, there were those doors along the elevator shaft...those were technically still vulnerable access points.  Maybe, just maybe, they could turn the blast doors flat and have them open to let the elevator down, rather than try to seal up the other doors and rely on a single door at the bottom floor.  They'd have to do some digging and run new wire, but...

She turned back around to the others.  "Just had an idea where size isn't going to matter much."

[inyourwildestdreamslove]

Edge of Seventeen

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader x Billy Hargrove

Type: CYOA

Summary: You’re the new girl in school and not everyone can handle you. Steve and Billy are up for the challenge though and end up begging for your attention. Who will you choose?

Hawkins, Indiana is a wasteland. When you moved here you may as well as moved to the middle of nowhere. You could feel your soul die as you step out of your car and into the school parking lot. You casually run your fingers through your bleach blonde hair, lightly teasing it up to give it more height and body. You lazily pull the cigarette from between your lips and release the smoke into the air. You lazily shut your door and start towards the school, your heels clicking as you turn the heads of the small town school. 

They had never seen anyone like you before. 

You are wearing baggy jeans with a black crop top and a flannel over that. You have an assortment of necklaces, bracelets, and rings to finish off the look with your combat boots. Your forearm sports an assortment of tattoos that you notice draws the attention of the students as you pass them. You can feel the whispers in the air around you. How can you not? You are the new student, and you are far from what would be considered normal. 

It doesn’t take long for you to find yourself in your first class of the day and thoroughly bored. You glance around the classroom at the students, most of them casting you curious looks. You don’t really pay too much attention to them. Except one. 

He has brown eyes and voluminous brown hair. He’s cute… nothing to write home about, especially with this tee shirt, jacket and jeans. He isn’t really your type, too popular boy and less bad boy. You hold his gaze for a moment before you send him a slow smirk. You giggle to yourself as you watch his cheeks flame up and he whips back around in his seat. 

Oh… He’s interested.

The day is a boring mass of introductions and curious stares. Those that do approach you usually do so more to ask obnoxious questions and less to make you feel welcome. After having your life pried into for the past four hours, you are relieved when lunch rolls around. 

You find a table and sit down before you pull out the sandwich you brought for lunch. No way do you trust cafeteria food. You begin to eat, enjoying the peace for a moment and try to ignore the stares and whispers. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that they have moved onto a different topic when the room goes quiet. You glance up in enough time to see a guy come walking up to you, he’s all confidence and tight jeans. He licks his full lips and smirks at you as he sits in the chair opposite you. A moment later, a couple take a seat at the same table, the guy next to him and the girl beside you, as if you have been friends since kindergarten. You feel your guard go up at the intrusion, mostly because you have no idea what their intentions are. The pair just gazes at you curiously, but don’t make to say anything. 

“So I see you’ve stolen the new kid status away from me… I’m Billy,” the first guy says smoothly, with a smolder in his eyes as he extends a hand out for you to shake. You hesitate a moment before you take his hand and tell him your name. 

He sends you a slow smile, everything about him deliberate. He leans forward on the table, making it a point to show off his impressive arms in the process, as if he wants to tell you a secret. The couple begin to bicker about something as they share a plate of fries, but don’t make to introduce themselves. 

“This place is a real drag, but I would love to help you get acquainted if you want,” he ends the offer with a wink. 

“Thanks… Umm… you know any good places for music?”

“What kind of music?” he asks but you can see by the look on his face, he already knows. If nothing else, you feel like the two of you share a similar taste in music, even if he is laying it on a little thick. 

“The good shit… what do you think I listen to?” you ask with a smirk of your own. You feel yourself loosening up a little bit, since he’s too busy hitting on you to make you think he means any harm. 

He sends you a smile, an actual smile and not just that smirk he thinks is so attractive. It is, but he doesn’t need to know you think so.

“I bet you love Metallica, Scorpion, Def Lepord? The good shit.”

You feel a smile of you own dance on your lips, “So you do know good music…”

“Of course, I do!” he looks you in the eyes before he starts singing ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ and you can’t help but laugh at him. He laughs along with you after a moment before the two of you pick up where he left off. You end the part with a smile as you lean back in your seat and ignore the stares of the students around you. You aren’t a stranger to performing in front of people anyway. 

“I know a few good places we could go…A local band that’s pretty good is playing this weekend… want to go with me? I’ll introduce you to them?”

The questions is casual but you can see the hunger in his eyes. 

“Sure… I’m looking to join up with a band anyway. Knowing someone in the music scene around here would be great.”

“Oh? You play?”

“Yeah,” you say casually as you notice a pair of familiar brown eyes watching you with concern from a few tables away. 

“What do you play?” 

Your attention slams back to the guy in front of you, “Drums.”

You watch his eyes light in intrique before the bell drowns out what he was going to say. You get up and bid the trio bye before you pull out your schedule and start off down the hallway attempting to find your next class. 

“Hey! Wait up!”

You glance back to see Brown Eyes behind and you fix him with an intriguing expression. 

“Yes?”

“You uh… know where you’re going?”

“Nope… Not a clue,” you answer matter of factly.

“Right...Uhh… want help? I’m Steve, by the way,” he says holding out a hand to you. 

“Well ‘Steve by the way,’ do you know where French II is?”

“Uh… Yeah… down this way…” he says with a light laugh at your teasing.

You follow slightly behind him as he makes his way down the hallway. 

“So,” he says clapping his hands together, “how do you like Hawkins?”

“It’s different…”

“Good different? Bad different?”

“Remains to be seen… It sucks being the new kid…” you say your voice flat. 

“Yeah… I’m sure it does… Hey look... I know it’s none of my business, but Billy isn’t a good guy to be hanging out with.”

You raise your brows at the male beside you and pause in your tracks. 

“Why is that?”

“Well… he’s not a very nice guy, he has a different girl every week, actually every few days, and he’s kind of a bully.”

“I see… And I should just take your word for it?”

He winces realizing you have no reason to listen to him. 

“Look… you seem nice…”

“Do I? That’s why the student population is convinced I’m some sort of delinquent, right?”

“I don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Think you’re a delinquent.”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

“Well Steve Harrington, that’s very nice of you to say, and I appreciate the warning.”

“You’re welcome!”

You turn to walk into the classroom that you’ve been standing in front of for a moment.

“Hey! Uh… There’s this band playing this weekend… Do you want to go...with me?”

“Hmmm…. Billy asked me to go with him…”

“Forget him and go with me,” he says giving you a smirk as he takes a step towards you. There he is… you knew a guy as good looking as him has game.

“I don’t know… that just might ruin your golden boy image…”

“Golden boy image?” he scoffs, “What makes you think that?”

You just laugh, “Half the female population has been glaring me down since you walked over here…. Just a guess!”

“Then we shouldn’t disappoint them,” he says leaning down as if telling you a secret. 

“I don’t know that I’m your type Golden Boy…Can you handle this?” you say as you finger the collar of his jacket. 

“What? You don’t think I can keep up? With you?”

You shrug, “Maybe… Or maybe you just aren’t my type?”

“Now you’re just making excuses…” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“We’ll see….” with that you walk into class and roll your eyes as you are once again called to the front of the class to introduce yourself. After you take a seat you can’t believe that two guys have asked you out within about thirty minutes of one another. The only question is now, who are you going to the concert with?

Who do you choose to go with? 

VOTE!

VOTING IS CLOSED GO TO CHAPTER 2 TO SEE WHO WON!

So I’m doing this one a little differently... I’m going to have you guys vote on certain plot points in this story. I want to see how this goes... Kind of an experiment if you will... Don’t worry if your guy doesn’t win there will be other chances in the future! Now go forth my children and vote!

[normal-thoughts-official]

Can you tell us more about Magnus's and Alec's biggest kinks?

what can i say except YEA BOI

i mean i do feel like this is a lil repetitive because i do talk about that frequently but you cant stop me from saying it again. i think orgasm delay/denial is huge for the both of them, although it's usually relatively short-term (a few hours if they're having sex directly, maybe a few days with like long pauses). Magnus loves feeling all needy and desperate, wet and squirming and begging, and Alec loves seeing Magnus like this under him, open and trusting and asking, begging for more. Alec can tie Magnus up and eat him out for hours, slowly and teasingly, tongue circling Magnus' clit steadily, not a lot of pressure, but unrelenting until he's squirming and trying desperately to thrust deeper against him, but unable to because of the ropes :') and he just gets lost in that good good subspace, floating in pleasure, as Alec runs his big hands through his body, makes him feel good, and makes him wait and want and ache for more

or if its a bit more long term...... i always think phone sex, Alec is in a trip for like two days and he won't be sleeping at home, so he tells Magnus not to touch himself before Alec is back. and Magnus is already wet just from hearing that request, all breathily going "yes, Master" and Alec smiles but kisses him, slowly but filthily, strokes his cheek with his thumb lightly, and then leaves. and all day Magnus is just on edge, feeling needy and excited and maybe he even whips out his collar to wear while he's at home to ground himself (on that topic: Magnus absolutely loves collars!! might elaborate later)

and then at night when Alec is at his hotel he calls Magnus and asks him how his day has been, and Magnus tells him how on edge he was, how excited and turned on, he's all breathless and saying he can't wait for Alec to be back, and Alec jerks off to that, teasing Magnus all the while, telling him all the things he wants to do to Magnus, but reminding him not to touch himself. and Magnus is just moaning and rocking slightly against the bed, needing something, but not getting it. and then once Alec comes, asks him how he is, makes sure he's fine and wants it to keep going, says that he loves him.. he hangs up and Magnus is just. aching for it all night. and then when he gets home the next day Magnus is waiting for him and dolled up and desperate and Alec makes him come until hes pretty much boneless under him, relaxed and happy and sated

on the topic of collars!! Magnus loves collars and thats a true canon fact and that's just how it is. i feel like they're kinda neutral to Alec (i mean he likes them, loves seeing Magnus wear them, especially one with his name on it, so he can draw Magnus closer and touch him all over and say that Magnus is his, his beautiful perfect pet slut... I'm getting sidetracked. anyway. he does like them, but he's not crazy about them like he is with other things) but you know since Magnus loves them of course he loves them. Magnus absolutely adores them, the texture, the feeling of being owned/belonging, the way they help him feel grounded and centered doing a scene, the light (obviously consensual) humiliation of wearing one. if he's teased long enough, he can come just from having the collar be put on, and when he does it's just the most beautiful thing. hmmmm

i think Alec definitely has a brat taming kink and even if Magnus doesn't per se, he doesn't mind acting bratty if it's gonna get Alec to fuck him hard and deep. it usually doesnt last long after like foreplay and stuff unless they're doing a lightly kinky version (like no edgy, collars, etc) because then he just wants to let go and submit, you know? but if it's lighter he definitely enjoys bantering with Alec and provoking him, getting Alec to snap and just give it to him. Alec is always great but he's also like. endlessly tender and loving and while that's obviously incredible, when Magnus wants Alec to just fuck him hard and rough? being bratty is the way to go

also obviously Magnus has a praise kink and Alec has a "praising Magnus" kink, he can spout poetry about him and his body for hours in bed, tie him up and absolutely worship his body as he tells Magnus every little thing he loves about his body, and Magnus is overwhelmed, blushing, and crying (good tears, happy, and he definitely doesn't want Alec to stop), but feeling so loved and adored like he never has, and like he deserves (and like Alec deserves to love and adore, too, because he loves Magnus so much he could burst from it sometimes, and he wants to express that as much as possible because he never thought he'd get to, okay). this is very emotionally loaded for the both of them, because Magnus cant even believe Alec at the beginning, instinctively shakes his head in negative because theres no way Alec sees him like this. but he does

Sorry for making it angsty udndjdndk but on a similar but lighter subject, i think Magnus absolutely gets turned on from being romanced. like when Alec goes all traditional courtship on him and gets him flowers and wears a suit and kisses the back of his hand, looking up at him with that intense lightwood stare? hes so fucking horny, man. and it takes him a while to even realize that, until one day Alec is like "Magnus, you know i dont romance you and take you on fancy dates just for sex, right?" and Magnus is like "hm? yeah" and Alec is like "well ok its just that every time we do it you kind of. jump on me" and Magnus is like hmmmmmmmm and alec's like "wait. does it turn you on?" and Magnus never thought about it but it makes sense and oh god it totally turns him on

so you know 🤷 whats a guy to do but bring that into play? and so they make this elaborate date in their loft, both of them in some fancy tuxes, maybe Magnus has a vibrator against his clit that Alec controls? and they have dinner, and slow dance, and all the time Alec is watching him with hungry eyes, playing with his vibrator, leaving lingering touches on him that have Magnus shivering and almost begging, but then Alec pulls away and pretends nothing's happened and fuck he loves it. and then when do finally skip the foreplay and get to business, Alec undresses him very slowly, taking his time, kissing every new inch of skin, being so delicate and careful with his beautiful boyfriend/princess. and again it's a little overwhelming for Magnus because its so tender but it's also perfect and he may or may not need like double the orgasms he usually does after such long, teasing foreplay

also theyre def into roleplaying sometimes and dressing up. i think Magnus is into some light feminization like being called Princess and whatnot, wearing panties, thigh highs, etc. i think theyre into exhibitionism, that Magnus loves creampies, that they both love cockwarming...... thats what Ive got djdndjdndi this ask is long enough as it is

also you know just to make sure that its said that all of this is totally consensual and doesnt mean anything about their relationship outside of the bedroom, and thats why it works. Magnus doesn't want to be below anyone and theyre always equals in their relationship and will never act like anything but. that's why they trust each other to do this in the bedroom in the first place. because they know that once it's over, they're back to being partners, and loving and caring and dorky like they always are. also there are always safewords and either of them can tap out, etc. just so there arent any doubts about that

[touchmycoat]

5, 6 (i already know this is some insane amount), 9, 10, 16, 23, 26 (house)

BAAABE :*

5. What is the perfect environment for you to write in?

my office cubicle apparently kdsjfnksd

no but genuinely anywhere i can zone out. i make faces & mutter to myself when i write tho so, anywhere where that wouldn’t draw weird glances lmfao

6. If you’re really concentrating, how many words can you write in a day?

bahahaha i think Farmer’s Almanac holds the record rn—10k, give or take.

9. Do you prefer to write AUs, canon divergence, or canon-compliant fic?

#selfintrospection, my pattern per fandom seems to be starting with canon divergence! I’m a side characters ho, y’all know this, so I always like to recenter the narrative & get a surer foothold in my own interpretations of character first. but after that.... no preference! I love (and have written) all three to great enjoyment heheheh just depends on where i wanna see ‘em fuck

10. Do you enjoy writing dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?

NFJDNFJDNFJD HOW CAN I CHOOSE

Exposition is sexy, and i get to be the most experimental & excessive & self-indulgent here w/ style choices.

Dialogue is sexy, ‘cause voices and humor and dirty talk and heartbreak and communication!!! I’m a movie ho so i’m all about that plot-driving script game ;;;;

Plot is sexy ‘cause that’s where you get to fuck around with all the canon themes, subvert & avert & redistribute them!!!!!!!! I’m a slut for that!!!!!!!!!

can’t choose won’t choose :’D

16. What is your most underrated fic?

LMFAO you know i’m gonna say Sword of the Yi Maiden ;) she’s basically like, our child ;;

23. If you had to remix one of your own fics, which would it be and how would you remix it?

well once i sort out the single dad!Song Lan universe, i’d loooooove to switch gears & swerve into single dad!Xiao Xingchen B) just for kicks. But where Song Lan is like, a high school lit teacher and A-Qing is our favorite local delinquent child. XXC gets called in for a parent-teacher conference, and he’s actually kind of dreading it at first because AQ honestly never had too many complaints about the English teacher, so if this Song Laoshi was suddenly going to betray his daughter’s trust and tattle on her XXC would def take AQ’s side.

But! Turns out SL’s calling him in to be like “hey, AQ never does homework but is fine with participating in class if i kind of trick her into arguing about it, so i figured she just really doesn’t like being told what to do. That’s fine! But that also means I don’t think she’ll respond well to me sitting her down to talk about her higher education options, so I figured I’d run it past the parent first to see if you have any thoughts about how we’re going to proceed.”

it’d be SO fucking funny... AQ stops skipping class or stops zoning out the moment she catches onto her dad’s little ~thing for Song Laoshi. She starts challenging him in class instead on every little thing (”yeah but don’t you think it’s inherently racist to require us to read conrad at all, if there are so many books out there written by actual African postcolonial authors”) but he’s just happy she’s engaging so they bond

they’re both super proud and near tears at graduation, and AQ is too but to hide her own embarrassingly feelings she’s like “don’t pretend y’all aren’t just crying ‘cause you can finally date each other now that it won’t be fucking WEIRD for me”

26. Which part of House was the hardest to write?

hmmmmm I think I had the most number of false starts w ch. 3!! i never save shit rip but at one point i straight up had like.... 13 pages all blacked out? Oh i remember, the scene where AQ first tests SL. I had that set in like, the breakfast stall, in a busy street, a quiet street, etc. etc. I was putting each of their conversations in different contexts too, just seeing how they would play out based on the surroundings??? i even thought about dropping AQ’s POV completely at one point but I’m very glad i didn’t. The current version is actually the very first opening for the chapter i ever wrote so, el oh el, i try not to think all that effort went to waste. It’s more like, I had some ideas, but i had to prove none of them would work before i could proceed with this one, y’know?

BUT TELL YOU WHAT I DID SAVE THO. The first draft of the Ch. 2 opening? After I wrote this i was like “yikes this is way too conventional a set-up for a flashback let’s just do it,” and wrote the current version on ao3 lmao. I kept the chapped knuckles thing~

Under the Cut:

((Behind the Scenes of Fic Writing Asks!))

Song Lan stood at the entrance of his room in the inn, fist clenched hard around Fuxue’s hilt as the rain came in. Night had been the herald, and now, the lantern at the top of the stairs to Song Lan’s left was flickering wildly, buffeted about by the stormy wind.

The inn’s owner, an older woman in her 50s, spoke a string of worried utterances as she hurried up the stairs to close the window. As her hands approached the latch though, Song Lan sensed bloodthirst. Fuxue went flying.

The woman screamed, but the harm was over; a mutated critter of a hungry ghost slumped against the window frame, pinned there by Fuxue’s cool blade. Instead of closing the window for her, Song Lan pressed two paper talismans on either side. He pulled out Fuxue and watched the hungry ghost dissipate.

“Daozhang, daozhang, gratitude,” the woman wept. “A few here and there is nothing, you know? But once they begin to stay, and bigger things start to come, and we have young ones in the house, oh, it terrifies me, what state this city has been falling into…”

Fuxue returned to its sheathe, and Song Lan still had his fly-whisk tucked in his arm. He gave the inn owner a polite bow.

“I will attempt an extermination tonight.”

“Daozhang is so reliable,” the woman said, tears instantly transforming into simpering gratitude. Her distress had been in part a show, meant to move Song Lan into action. Song Lan did not mind; this was his third night at the inn, after all, and the second time the inn owner’s requested a favor from him. It stood to reason that she would think he needs more affective convincing, even if she’s wrong.

“I may trouble you for tea upon my return,” he murmured. When the woman reached out to pat his elbow in a matronly gesture, Song Lan stepped back, disguising the gesture as a readjustment of his robes as he replaced the stack of talismans back in his sleeve.

“Of course,” she replied, hand waving in the air before lowering back down to her side. A spot of tension eased at the base of Song Lan’s neck. “The stove never stops burning in our kitchen, particularly when we have guests. Just give our door a knock if the evening chef isn’t around. We’ll take care of you.”

Song Lan was grateful. He’d need the hot drink when he returned from the rain—soaking in the deluge always left his skin feeling beaten and bloated. And the sensation, if untreated, never failed to transform itself into two long iron nails hammered deep into his skull and brain. The pain was best avoided if at all possible.

(Xiao XingChen knew this about him. Nothing’s ever eased the migraines faster than XingChen’s smile as he wordlessly pushed a cup of hot water or tea across the table. Nothing’s ever distracted Song Lan from the pain more effectively than wondering exactly what would happen, if XingChen’s fingers lingered and his own could touch, just lightly, those perpetually chapped knuckles.)

(Take better care of yourself, Song Lan had once chastised when blood came seeping up between cracked skin.

I forget to, XingChen had confessed, sheepish lines crinkling around his eyes.

Had Song Lan been anybody else, he would’ve said out loud what he wished he could’ve said out loud: I’ll do it then.

Had Song Lan been anybody else, he would’ve thumbed a layer of protective grease over Xiao XingChen’s dry hands himself, save them both the need for cheesy lines and impotent promises. Words often got him into trouble, he knew this; he much preferred the vows made in every shared action that was mutually fostered into consistency. But what did it say about him, that his hands flinched from touch and Xiao XingChen walked at a careful radius around him, that he couldn’t make a vow on any level that counted?)

The extermination was no reprieve from the discomfort, the dissatisfaction, the disassembly of it all. The sky was falling apart and so was his skin. Moderation was less a stranger to Song Lan than longing, but tonight, the berating of his body was not moderated at all.

A year of searching, over, just like that.

An opportunity to apologize, gone, just like that.

A promise.

A dream.

So do you like him then? You want to really build a family with him?

Gone. Just like that.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Always Chasing After You

Rating: T

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 5655

Summary: Baz is out for a walk, when the most ridiculous and beautiful boy in the universe runs into him. And the Chosen One has gotten himself into trouble. Again. Based on "there’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close" and "I’m dying and I’m confessing my love for you" requests

Read on AO3

AN: Again, I can't express my apologies enough for taking so long with these requests. Stupid work and health, ugh. Idk if you guys are annoyed, but I'm def annoyed with myself. I hate being too tired to do things. But I got this done so yay! Hope you guys like it :)

———————————————

Baz

Why the fuck am I out here? It’s the day before Christmas Eve and bloody freezing, yet I’m wandering the streets like some moping emo. That’s probably what I am honestly. A depressed, lonely, lovesick emo, trying to freeze away my stupid feelings.

I shove my hands in my jacket pockets, warming up slightly. And my stupid lovesick brain imagines that warm, callused fingers are there heating my skin. I rip my hand out, keeping it in the cold, making the thoughts disappear by sheer stubbornness. No, stop it, subconscious. It’s not possible. Just because Snow and Wellbelove broke up last week doesn’t mean there’s a chance for me. There will never be a chance.

My head drops. I stare at the snow dusted ground, trying not to think of him. As if that’s even possible.

“Fuck fuck fuck!”

That’s the last thing I hear before a bloody fucking battering ram hits me. I yelp as I fall over onto the pavement, barely stopping my head from smashing open with my arm. Something or someone is pressing my back down. I whip my head back, ready to scream my head off, but then I’m met with panicked plain blue eyes.

“Snow?” I say.

“Baz?!” he replies, panting for breath. “What are you doing here?!”

“I could ask you the same thing.” I look to my left, and my eyes widen. “Why is your bloody sword out?”

“Uh, well, actually.” A rumble thrums through the pavement, like distant thunder. It gets closer and closer. Simon scrambles off me (unfortunately) and holds his sword tighter.

“You’re gonna want to run,” he says. “Like, now.”

I lift my head up just in time to see scaly feet pounding on the ground. “What the fuck?”

“Now!” Snow grabs my arm and hauls me to my feet. I scramble to follow him, the thundering sound chasing after us.

We bob and weave and duck through the streets. There’s only a couple of people, and they run away pretty quickly when they see whatever is behind us. I try to take note of Snow’s appearance. He’s in jeans and a hoodie, both tattered and bloodied. He’s not even wearing winter boots, just ratty old trainers. Bloody hell, he’s going to catch his death of cold. If we’re not killed by whatever’s chasing us first.

I catch up to Snow (thank magic for football). “What the ever loving fuck is going on, Snow?”

Snow dashes around the corner, and starts speaking between panting breaths. “Uh, long story short, accidentally wandered into a goblin nest while looking for a late night snack at a twenty four hour store.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah.”

I follow Snow down a side street, and the thumping follows. “You are an utter fucking disaster, Snow!”

“Um, duh!” He grabs and swings around a pole to make a tight turn. I just use my feet like a normal person. “Why are you out here late at night? Isn’t your house in Hampshire?”

“I was at my aunts and I needed to clear my head.” Because I can only think about you, Snow. And it’s driving me to the brink of insanity.

Simon barks out a laugh. It’s wonderful noise. “What are the odds, huh? Just running into you.”

I let out my own tiny chuckle. “Yeah, true enough.”

We run down the streets at breakneck pace. Luckily, London provide lots of tight corners and winding paths. Snow looks over his shoulder a couple times, making his eyes widen in fear. That worries me. Snow has fought a chimera and a dragon. It takes a lot to get to him rattled, and he definitely looks a bit shaken up right now.

Snow dashes down a road, and I follow. But I quickly slam into his back with a formidable thwack, falling on my arse. “Ow!” I shout. “What the fuck, Snow!?”

“They looped around,” he pants out. “They fucking looped around.”

I scramble to my feet. I’m faced with oncoming horde of goblins, all pop star pretty with sharp teeth and claws. “Fuck.” I look over my shoulder. Another group is fast approaching. “Going back isn’t an option.”

Snow looks back too and frowns. “Fuck, you’re right.” Their thundering steps get louder and louder. “You got your wand?”

I pull it out of my inside pocket. “Always.

“Good.” He spins on his heels, sword raised high. “I think we’re going to have to fight our way out.”

“It’s the chimera all over again,” I grumble.

“Don’t get pissy about the chimera, that one was your own fault.” He moves into his fighting pose, every inch the mighty hero. Stupid Snow. Why must he always be so impressive?

I stick my wand out, fire already building at the tip. “Well, this one is your fault, so now we’re even.”

He growls deeply. The sound hits me harder than it should. “Just shut up and fight, Baz.”

“Gladly.”

The goblins close in. And all hell breaks loose.

It’s an absolute tornado of claws and blood and fire. Snow hacks and slashes like a madman. He’s a bloody force of nature with that sword. Nothing can get past him, no one can touch him. I unleash volleys of flames. The goblins roar and reel away, clutching their burnt arms. They jump at me with their supernatural speed, but luckily I’m a creature of darkness too. I block their attacks and kick them off with ease.

As I whip my wand around, sending a fiery lash into the final goblins’ face, I hear Snow shout loudly behind me. My dead heart kicks into overdrive. I spin around instantly. I couldn’t stand it if he got hurt, or worse. No no, that can’t happen.

Snow is being pushed back, feet digging into the ground, sword locked with a goblin’s claw. His drooling maw is far too close to Simon’s face for my comfort. His long teeth graze his face, drawing a drop of blood. My vision goes red. I charge forward and bash my shoulder into the beast’s broad chest, making him fly backwards into some of his fellow brethren. They fall like furious bowling pins, motionless on the ground.

After all the chaos, there’s a moment of silence. The calm after the storm, I suppose. Snow and I stare at each other, both our chests rising high in desperate gasps for air. There’s goblin blood all over his body, but he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

Snow’s gaze is wide, but I can’t tell what emotion lays behind it. Shock, fear, amazement, I have no clue.

“Baz...I...” he starts, words stalling out like a bad car motor. I open my mouth to reply, just as the worst pain I’ve ever felt scorches down my back.

I scream in agony, probably loud enough to wake some Normals. I stumble forward until a pair of strong arms wrap around me. Snow drags me over the waking goblins before they stand up. The pain is throbbing, burning, aching. I’ve heard rumours that goblin claws cause particularly terrible wounds. Unfortunately, they’re true. I push through it to get to my feet, running next to Snow away from these damn creatures.

We run like before through the serpentine pathways. The goblins are slower because of their injuries. They’re more than a few paces behind us. And it can definitely work to our advantage.

Snow and I turn a sharp corner. My eyes catch a narrow, almost invisible crack in a wall. I grip Simon’s arm tight and haul him towards it with all my remaining strength.

“Hey-” I cover his mouth before he can attract more attention with his shouting. He looks at my hand in surprise, but doesn’t push me off. I listen as the hoard approaches like an oncoming storm, then rush right past us. I wait until their heavy steps are completely gone before I (reluctantly) lower my hand from Snow’s mouth.

“They’re gone,” I sigh.

“Thank God,” Snow says.

We both take deep, calming breaths, though our chests are restricted in the tight space. I subtly flick my eyes downward. Blood hell. There’s barely an inch between Snow and I. Just a sliver of air separating my cold corpse from his warm being. He’s still disgusting, covered in goblin blood and dirt, but he’s still the most gorgeous thing in the cosmos. I force my eyes upwards, only to be met with Snow’s own.

Strangely, they’re not scared, or even shocked. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. All I can focus on is that he’s staring at me, that his pink lips are parted slightly, that I can feel his breath on my skin. He’s so close. One step, and we would be pressed together from head to toe. I could kiss him. Right here, right now. He doesn’t want me though, he never has. Yet...he’s looking at me like that. With wide, curious, pretty eyes. Could it be possible? Could he really?

“Simon,” I whisper. And in that moment of weakness, I reach forward, just about to touch his tawny cheek. Miraculously, he doesn’t pull away.

But that’s when the horrible pain shoots through my entire body again.

I gasp and hiss, suppressing the terrible scream I want to let out. My legs completely give out underneath me. Every bone in my body turns to jelly. As I’m falling, for the second time tonight, I feel arms wrap around me. Snow stops me from smashing my skull on the pavement. He gently lowers me down, my head pillowed on his thigh. I wish I was well enough to appreciate this.

“Holy fuck, Baz,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t know,” I reply, voice strained. I feel like I’m thinking through a fog. ”My back, it really hurts.”

Snow reaches around me, and I faintly feel his hand press against my back. When he pulls back, his palm and fingers are practically dripping in blood.

“Well,” I chuckle weakly, “that’s not good.”

“T-That’s a lot of blood...”

“No shit, Snow.”

He looks down at me with his wide eyes. “Why didn’t you say it was this bad?!”

“Well, we were a bit busy running for our lives.”

“Still!”

“Don’t worry, I’m-” I cough violently into my hand. When I pull it away, there’s tiny drops of scarlet on my pale skin. “Fine.”

“Oh my god, you’re dying.”

“Am not,” I grumble defiantly. Though, for once, Snow might have a point.

“Yes you are!” He runs a hand through his tangled curls. “Fuck, I don’t know any powerful healing spells. I don’t even have my wand!”

The reality of the situation finally hits me. Vampire healing can only work so fast. I suppose the wounds are too wide for it . Snow doesn’t have his wand, and it’s not like he can cast a proper spell anyway. I’m too weak to try to cast anything.

I’m going to bleed to death in an alley while Simon Snow holds me in his arms. It’s not exactly how I imagined I would go, but close enough.

The most surprising part though is how worried Snow looks. I’ve never seen him panicked like this. And all it’s over little old me. Interesting. Horrible, but interesting.

“Fuck, maybe we can get you to a hospital,” he mutters, more to himself than me.

“Snow,” I say, but he doesn’t listen.

“Maybe we can do to Dr. Wellbelove, he could help.”

“Snow.”

“Or maybe the Mage-”

“Simon.” That finally gets his attention and our eyes meet again. His are quivering, matching his shaky breaths. I reach up and touch his cheek. It’s soft, just like I always thought. “It’s okay.”

His brows pull together in indignation. “No, it’s not. You only got hurt because of me, a-and now you’re dying and I don’t know what to do!”

My weak hand trails from his cheek, down his arm, and finally lands on top of his fingers. “Stay,” I say hoarsely. “Just stay.”

Snow’s face tenses up again, and I swear I can see a few tears on his pretty face. It breaks my heart into pieces. He squeezes my hand. “Okay.”

I smile softly. My mind and body are fading, I can feel it. All my thoughts are getting muddled, inhibitions lowering, bravery rising in my final moments. I may finally be brave enough to say the one thing I’ve always wanted to.

“Hey, Snow,” I whisper.

“Yeah, Baz?” he replies.

“I never hated you.” His eyes bug out of his pretty skull. “You’re too incredible to hate.”

His lips fall open again. I want to kiss them. “What?”

“You’re amazing, the best person I’ve ever known.” My limbs are growing weaker. Snow’s face is becoming a blurry abstract blob of blue and bronze and gold. “I love you, Simon.”

The last thing I see is Snow’s beautiful face fall into utter shock, blue eyes sparkling and pink lips open wide. That’s a good thing to die looking at. I lose the ability to move at all. Everything is fading away. I wonder if my mother will greet me in the afterlife. I wonder if I even have a soul to go there.

And that’s my final thought before the world goes black.

———————————————

Hurts. Everything hurts.

My whole body aches worse than it has in years. Is this what Hell feels like? Just painful darkness for all eternity, uncertain of where you even are? It’s a far cry from fire and brimstone, but somehow so much worse.

Slowly, my other senses come back to me, something other than searing pain. I feel softness beneath me and over me. I hear clamoring voices and footsteps. And is that...bacon? Does hell smell like bacon?

It takes me awhile, but I realise I can open my eyes. Everything is too bright and blurry. I blink as my vision readjusts. Okay, I don’t think this is hell. Instead, it’s a small white room with old pine furniture. A closet, a desk, a shelf filled to the brim with books. I recognise the knapsack on the floor, dark blue with a feminist patch sewn on in blatant defiance of Watford’s uniform code. My eyes scan further up, and immediately grow wider.

Snow is curled up in a ratty arm chair, still dressed in his goblin blood covered jeans, hair tangled with the goop. His sleeping face is awkwardly squished against the side, a little drool falling from the corner of his mouth. But strangest of all, sprouting from Snow’s back are a pair of massive scaly red dragon wings that curl around him like a cocoon. A matching devil’s tale drapes over the seat and onto the floor. And I thought Snow couldn’t get anymore fascinatingly strange.

“Good morning, Basil.” I jolt up, causing pain to lance through my body. I hiss as I turn my head, though I already know who it is.

“Hello, Bunce,” I reply. “Where am I?”

“My house, in my room specifically.” She walks forward, looming over me in a strangely menacing way. “You’re welcome for the bed, by the way.”

I look down at the little twin bed I’m in. The sheets are moderately nice, and there’s a Star Wars blanket on top of me. “Um, thank you.” I run my hand over the fleece. It feels real enough. I look up at Bunce. “Am I dead?”

“Nope. Not for lack of trying though.” She points down, and I follow her finger. Well, this is something. My entire torso is wrapped in tight bandages, all the way from my shoulders to my waist.

“Oh my...”

“Yeah. You can thank my mum for that. She’s got five kids, she’s used to patching up scrapes. Though this was more than a scrape.”

“That’s an understatement. Damn goblins.”

“Simon told me all about it.”

My eyes flick over to Snow, curled up in his little wing cocoon. “What happened? How did I get here?”

She sighs and puts a hand on her hip. “Simon showed up here in the middle of the night carrying you and looking like...that. You were barely alive. He begged me to heal you. So we brought you upstairs and I casted every healing spell I know while Simon told me what happened, about the goblins and you saving his life. Then my mum bandaged you up. You survived, obviously, but I warned Simon that you may not wake up, considering how much blood you lost.” She glances over at the sleeping dragon boy. “He hasn’t left that chair, wouldn’t move no matter how much I asked him. For once, you might have a better idea of what’s going on with Simon than I do, Basil.”

If I had enough blood to blush, I would. Simon stayed with me. Was it out of guilt? Or something else? “I’m not sure, actually.”

“Alright.” She sounds a bit annoyed, but accepts it. “Do you need anything to eat? Or...anything to drink?”

I gulp and stare to the side. “Are you really buying into Snow’s crazy theories now, Bunce?”

“Not really. But you’re injured, so if he’s right, I think I’d rather ask than have you die.”

“Will you turn me into the Coven?”

Her eyes flick over to Simon, and her face softens, arms falling down. “I know I’m supposed to, but you saved my best friend’s life. I think it would be a dick move to turn you in after doing that.”

“You promise you won’t?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I promise.”

I see no sign of deception, no sign of malice. She looks genuinely kind. If I were stronger, I would probably keep refusing. But right now I feel like I’ve been run over by ten very heavy lorries. I don’t think I could survive without blood right now. So I lean further back against the wall.

“Animal blood works,” I say quietly. ”Despite Snow’s assumptions, I don’t kill humans. And if you have any real food it would be appreciated. I need that too.”

Bunce nods. “We made some blood pudding yesterday. I’ll get the leftover pig’s blood from the fridge. And I’ll make some soup too.”

I nod slowly. “Thank you, Penelope.”

She lightly pats my shoulder, trying to not aggravate my wounds. “Welcome.”

She turns on her heels and walks out. I take deep calming breaths, both for my wounds and for my panic. I just admitted I was a vampire. Penelope Bunce knows I’m a dark creature. But she hasn’t killed me. She’s grateful, because I saved Simon. And then I said I loved him. Bloody hell, what have I done?

“Baz?” I slowly turn my head to the side. Snow is rubbing his eye like a toddler just waking up from a nap. It’s absolutely adorable.

“Good morning, Snow,” I say with a raspy voice.

He stretches out, feet touching the ground and wings spreading out. He looks bloody majestic, like a storybook creature. “You’re awake.”

I laugh softly even though it hurts. “Yes, I am, last I checked.”

Snow stands up with shaky legs. His wings flare out and I’m even more glad that I can’t blush. “I...I thought you were dead.”

“Apparently I nearly was.”

“Yeah...” He walks towards while fiddling with his dirty fingers. “I really thought you were. Dead that is, in the alley after you passed out. There was so much blood...”

My heart aches at his small voice and nervous fiddling. He looks so scared. And it’s because of me. It hurts, yet a dark part of me wants him to care that I nearly died. “Yes, that goblin wasn’t playing around I suppose.”

My joke lands with with not even a fizzle. Snow’s face stays tense and nervous. He very slowly walks closer, like he’s afraid. I’m not sure of what though. “You were bleeding out, and I couldn’t think of anything to do. I was so sure you were going to die. I-I’ve never felt more scared and helpless in my life. And then...” He lifts his head. And his wide, wet, vulnerable eyes finally meet mine. “Baz, do you remember what you said to me? Just before you passed out?”

I gulp down the massive lump in my throat. Of course I remember. It was the stupidest decision I ever made, and I only did it because I assumed I was dying. Now I’m here, alive in a world where Simon Snow knows how much I adore him. So what do I do now? Do I run away? Or do I face the damage I’ve caused? I stare at Snow’s open face. There’s none of his usual anger. Snow has always worn his heart on his sleeve, he can’t hide anything he’s feeling. He’s obviously nervous, pulled in physically and emotionally, but he doesn’t look scared or angered. I think for once he doesn’t hate me. And I think for once I don’t need to be afraid.

“Yes,” I force out. “Yes, I remember, Snow.”

He lets out a quiet shaky, breath. A lot of tension leaves his shoulders. I think he assumed I would run away. I can’t blame him, I nearly did. Snow steps closer, standing at the edge of the bed. “Okay, okay. Did you, uh, mean it?”

My mouth pulls into a frown. Yes, Snow, I wanted to mess with you the minutes before I assumed I would die. Part of me wants to be angry, but I have never been truthful with him before. I can be now though. I nod slowly. “Yes, I did, Snow.”

“Oh.” His voice squeaks in this utterly adorable way. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Um, how long have you uh, felt like that?”

I chew my lip for a moment. No Basil, you’ve already gotten this far, don’t be a coward now. “A long time. Almost since we met.”

His eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Y-You’ve never said anything...”

I sigh, putting a hand on my stomach. “I never could, Snow. We’re meant to be enemies.”

“Oh, yeah...” He looks at the end of the bed and lazily lifts his arm. “Can I, uh, can I sit here?”

“Go ahead.” I’ll never object to having Snow near me, even if it’s at the end of a bed and between a sheet.

“So,” he starts tracing random patterns on his leg, “I know we’re supposed to be enemies. But you don’t want that, right?”

My heart aches, just like it did the moment I realised my feelings at 15. “No, I don’t. But it’s not like I have much choice.”

“Who says?”

I furrow my eyebrows. Even that hurts a bit to do right now. “Let’s see, my father, my aunt, your mentor, years of power abuse, the ghost of my mother, and the entire bloody Magickal World.”

“But none of those people are you, Baz.”

That hits hard. It’s delightful if not a bit tragic that Snow thinks I have any control over this matter. That I have any ability to do what I want.“No, but that’s not the point. Even you call me your nemesis.” And it stabs me in my undead heart every time I hear it.

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbles. Snow finally looks at me again, his gaze now determined. “But I’m not sure that’s true now.”

I won’t lie, that sends an ever frightful spark of hope in me. I school my face, only raising one eyebrow. “Oh?”

Snow nods, hands linked in his lap. “Yeah. I mean, I thought you were an evil monster, but you’re not. You’re a snob, and a bully, but you’re not a monster.”

“Thank you?”

He sighs and drags a hand over his tired face. “Sorry, words, ugh. What I’m trying to say is that you’re not the villain I always thought you were. You helped me fight the goblins and saved my life, twice really. I don’t think an evil person would do that.”

My mouth nearly twitches up into a smile, but I keep my composure. “If you say so...”

“Yeah, I-I do. And then,” he gulps a little, “when you were dying, seeing you like that...it was horrible. I suddenly thought about life without you, and it was terrifying. You’ve always been there. I can’t imagine you not being near me, where I can see you, where I can make sure you’re safe.”

Oh, how incredibly glad I am that I can’t blush right now. Why must Snow do this to me? My undead heart and broken body can only take so much. “You care for my safety? What, want to make sure you’re the one who kills me?”

Snow tilts his head back. “Baz, stop,” he groans loudly. “I’m trying to be serious here! I’m saying I don’t want you to die at all! The thought of you actually dying scares the fucking shit out of me. When you passed out, I sprouted fucking dragon wings and flew you here I was so terrified.” He puts his face in his hands, shoulders trembling with every breath. “You said you fucking loved me, Baz. I...I can’t even think about killing you now, it makes me feel sick.”

Crowley. He looks so upset, so broken. My brave strong hero, completely destroyed by the thought of my demise at his hands. I never thought I’d see the day. It’s absolutely heart wrenching. It’s difficult for me to lean forward, but I do it, for Simon. I place my hand on his. They lower slightly from his eyes, letting me see a sliver of plain blue.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry I scared you. And I’m sorry I put that on you so suddenly. It was unfair.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t yell at me or storm off to go bash something. Snow just grabs my hand tight while he wipes his eyes with the other. “It’s alright. Y-You thought you were going to die...”

I squeeze his hand lightly. “Yes. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to say it otherwise.”

He nods slowly, looking me in the eye. And I think we understand each other more now than ever before.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” he says quietly.

“You don’t have that option,” I reply. “Neither of us do.”

“I don’t care.” He looks at me with his puffy eyes and little frown. “I’m not going to fight you. Everyone else can fuck off.”

A laugh spills out of my mouth. But even that relatively small sound hurts my chest. I hiss and press a hand over my heart. And to my utter surprise, Snow presses his own hand there.

“Lay down. You should actually rest. We both should.” His voice is soft, caring, and I wish I could hear it like that all the time.

I do as he says, shimmying down so my head rests on the pillow. I expect Snow to go back to his chair. But instead, he moves further up the bed. I freeze, and he decides to look up.

“Can I?” he asks. “T-The chair isn’t really comfortable...”

I slowly nod, hoping I won’t burst into flames from all the insane emotions inside of me. Snow lays down, just next to my arm, human and dragon limbs alike hanging off the edge. I shift to the side. Snow moves even closer. We stare at each other for a long moment, time and space bending around his plain blue eyes and freckled face.

“I like this,” Snow whispers. “What we’re doing now. I like this better than fighting.”

“What is this?” I ask, because I’m genuinely confused. I know what I want this to be but Snow might have an entirely different idea. He probably does.

“I’m not sure yet. I just know I like being close to you, making sure your safe instead of yelling. I don’t know if it’s...love. Love is a big word. I’ve never really fully got love, never learned about it as a kid. But I care about you a lot. I always have, but now it’s a good way.”

I’m filled with a mix of emotions. A swirling sea of hope and confusion and wonder. I want to believe Snow loves me or one day could, I really do. But it’s an impossible feat. Right? “Snow-”

“You called me Simon before.” That little smirk is so annoying and so attractive.

“Simon,” I sigh. “That’s very nice to say, but you know how strongly I feel. So please don’t play with my emotions.”

Snow shakes his head as hard as he can. “I’m not, I wouldn’t do that, Baz. I-I just...so much has happened today. I’ve just found out my enemy has loved me for almost seven years after nearly being killed by goblins. My tried as fuck brain is still catching up and shit. But I do know I really care about you, and I want to try...being with you in a better way. That’s all I can say for sure right now.”

If Snow were a terrible person, someone like me, I would doubt him. Maybe think this is some long plot to get me to let my guard down. But he’s such a golden hero, always has been. He’s honest, honourable, and kind to a fault, the things I love the most about him. He wouldn’t lie to me. But there’s still so much in our way...

“What do you want us to do then?” I sigh. “Just pretend we’re not on opposite sides of a war?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe we could do this and show everyone they can work together and don’t have to fight.”

“And the whole world of mages will hold hands and sing a song about cooperation.” My pessimism and sarcasm are always persistent.

Snow smiles slightly. I feel something brush against my hand and I jolt. I know exactly what it is though. All warm with rough calluses, what else it could be? “Could I start by holding your hand?”

I gulp again. I can’t imagine how ridiculous I look. I want that so much, but I’m scared. I’ve been scared for years. Snow has always been braver than I am. Maybe I can be brave too.

Slowly, I take Snow’s rough, warm hand in mine. Our fingers weave together perfectly like a finely made tapestry. Snow rubs his thumb back and forth on my skin. It’s so simple, yet my body feels like it’s burning to happy ash.

“We can talk more later,” he says. “I know you’ll want to overanalyze everything even more.”

I laugh again, not caring that it hurts my chest. “You know me too well.”

He smiles and squeezes my hand. “Yeah. Not as much as I thought I did though, so I want to learn more.”

It’s a miracle I’m not a puddle right now. I think Snow’s hand is the only thing anchoring me to this Earth. We stare at each other for a long time. He just keeps smiling. And slowly, I start doing the same.

“I want to learn more about you too.”

We grin at each other. Snow and I are both damaged, confused, exhausted young men. But that only means we can understand each other better than anyone else. It will be incredibly difficult. Almost everything and everyone will stand in our way. There’s a high chance of more bloodshed and tears. Yet, I think this could work.

Oh, how I want this to work.

———————————————

Penelope

Making any sort of food in my kitchen is incredibly difficult on a good day, what with six people living here, but today is particularly hellish. My mother and father are racing around trying to prepare for Christmas supper. They keep asking if Simon and Baz are going to be here tomorrow and if they’ll need more food. Priya asks if Simon is a pokemon now. Pip wonders if Baz is really a vampire. Pacey wants to eat the candy canes early. It takes far, far too long to make some damn soup and blood.

Finally, I get up the stairs with a bowl of chicken noodle and a thermos full of pig’s blood. I have no idea how Basil drinks this stuff. It smells absolutely vile. I keep the thermos far away from me as I climb the stairs. Slowly, I push open my bedroom door. And I nearly drop everything because of the sight I see.

I’m not sure what to make of this. Baz and Simon are both asleep, on the bed, very close together. I’ve never seen them so close, except when Simon was cradling Baz’s unconscious bleeding body earlier. This is far less horrifying.

Baz is still laying on his back with one hand on his stomach, but his other is entwined with Simon’s. He’s curled around Baz, face pressed into his long neck, arm draped over his shoulders, and one leg slung on top of his like he’s trying to climb Baz’s long body. Even his dragon limbs are all over Baz, tail wrapped around his thigh and wing draped over them like a scaly blanket. But the strangest thing is that Simon looks...calm. I’ve seen him sleep before, curled in a knot and whimpering from his nightmares. From what Simon has said, Baz has nightmares too. Right now though, they’re just laying there with no sign of pain.

Baz got seriously injured after saving Simon’s life. Simon brought a near dead Baz to me while almost in tears. Now they’re tangled up together and sleeping peacefully.

Everything is starting to make sense.

I leave the tray on my desk. I doubt the soup will still be warm by the time they wake up, but I’d rather let them sleep. Simon and Baz are still snoring softly when I close the door. And I think that’s the best thing to happen today.

———————————————

AN: Alright another one done! I've still got a quite a few in my inbox, including the ones I had to skip and go back to later. And if anyone else wants to send a request before I close them, please do so by September 2nd. You can choose from the cliche/trope list or just what you want. I can't promise I'll get to it soon, but I'll do my best. Have a nice day :D

[got7-markjinson]

Be With You - JB

Def. 1/? vol.3 : Song Fic Series

A Song Fic series collaboration with @katdefbeom and @ijustwantacue! Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Reader X Jaebum Genre: Co-worker!AU, Fluff Word Count: 1.7k+

JB didn’t know when it started. He remembers there was a time when he was just dragging himself to work every day without much motivation except to get a complete paycheck every month. It’s been a year since he got hired as a tech support in this company. Every day’s the usual. Getting a few calls from the senior employees about something acting up from their desktop and would usually be solved by “turning the PC off and on”. His team mates are funny in their own way, but even though he tries not to, sometimes he just feels he’d rather be by himself. Which is probably why apart from company activities, he wouldn’t want to hang out with them.

And then you came and suddenly you became the reason why he wakes up every morning and come here in the workplace. You were a new hire in the admin department. The usual fresh face, a little plain to some but something just draws him into you. Maybe it started when he saw you using a Bart Simpson notebook. Or when your phone suddenly started blasting Ryo Fukui’s jazz music. It was just as if everything about you was just made up of what he likes.

It is one of the usual day at the office, he and a few of his team mates are on a coffee break in the pantry when he saw you sitting on the couch just beside the glass window of the building. You are so engrossed on a book. JB peeked and saw it’s a photography book, an edition he was quite familiar with since he has one of his own. He smiled to himself as he took a sip of his hot coffee.

“I am just so hyped up for tonight”, Jackson giddied.

“Me too! All girls from the admin team are coming, right?”, Bambam confirmed.

Just then, JB couldn’t stop himself and asked. “Admin team?”

“Yeah, bro. They confirmed everyone’s going.”, Bambam answered.

“Yeah, and if it wasn’t for you, our team would’ve been in complete attendance too.”, Jackson teased and tapped JB’s broad shoulder as he and Bambam snickered walking back to their desks.

Earlier that same day, somebody just started asking for a drink out after work. It is Friday night and it is the last day of work before everyone will get time of for the holidays. Naturally, the invite just spread around like wildfire. Some might see it as a celebration for the whole work that was done this year. Some might see it as just a farewell party until they see each other again next year.

You however weren’t really given a chance to say no for this event when your boss confirmed that everyone from your team will be coming. You confided to one of your team mates that you’re not really ‘dressed’ for the night out, what with you wearing your running shoes on. She let you borrow a dress she has kept from her lockers and a pair of high heel shoes, just like she’s always prepared for this kind of emergency. Now, you don’t have any reason not to go.

You put on the outfit and entered the bar awkwardly, getting uncomfortable with high heels on, you sat on one of the empty seat.

Looking around for something to busy yourself with, you were surprised by Jackson yelling, “Is it the end of the world???”, and everyone’s attention turned to him.

He walked towards JB, who just entered the bar. “Guys! JB came! Let’s all cheer!”

JB was too embarrassed at his co-worker/friend’s ruckus that he just laughed as everyone cheers. His time in the spotlight was brief however, and as everyone went about their usual thing, his eyes started to get busy scanning the faces to look for you.

He walked about, going further into the bar until finally he found you. You walked out of the restroom and he noticed something awkward with the way you walk. Scanning further down your legs to your toes, he finally figured it out. The heels broke on one side of your shoe.

You wouldn’t want to make it too obvious, so you decided to just stand in the corner leaning to the wall while bobbing your head, acting like you enjoy the blasting music and silently cursing yourself for leaving your running shoes in your office locker.

“Y/N, hi.” You turned to see JB approaching you.

Yes, the cute IT guy from work. You remind yourself and tried your best to calm down.

“Hi.” You say.

“Are you alright?”, he asked.

You blinked in surprise. Does it look like you’re not? You panicked, “Yeah, I... I’m fine.”, you nodded.

Just then, he grabbed your hand and dragged you towards him, “Come with me.”, he leads you out of the bar and you’re now walking on the paved street outside. His hand still held tightly to yours, and you can’t help but lean to his side to balance your walk wearing un-even shoes.

“Where are we going?”, you asked.

He doesn’t answer and instead stopped and entered a shoe store. He leads you to an empty couch and sat you down. He turned his focus on the display of lady slippers and picked a silver one with a shorter heel.

“I think you’ll look better with this on.”, he says bending one of his knee in front of you, and your face flushed in response to his action.

He tried to reach for your feet to take off the shoe you were wearing but you pulled it away.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, looking up to your face.

You don’t even know what’s going on right now and struggled to say something, “Uhm… I left my purse at the bar.”

He chuckled at this, “It’s okay. Let’s just say it’s a gift from me. Okay?”, he asked and waited for you to respond.

Still confused by what’s happening, you nodded and took the shoe from him to try it on.

“Just as I pictured, it really does suit you.” he says and gives you that smile that makes his eyes disappear.

Walking out of the store, you muttered a quick, “Thank you” to JB and he was all grin walking beside you. And he knows it’s not necessary anymore and he prays you don’t notice it, but he’s still holding your hand. He’s also secretly praying the time stops at this moment while he’s still with you or that the bar was still further down the road, but he must let you go now as you both went back to the party.

Going back to your place with your team mates, acting like everything’s normal, you sat down. They didn’t even notice you were gone. You tried to mingle with everyone and not to read more into what just happened, but your mind was still in the cloud over the fact that JB just held your hand and walked with you and bought you shoes. You kept asking yourself why. You were never really close. You see him at the office but aside from the usual nod that acknowledges each other’s presence, there really wasn’t much interaction between you two. Maybe you were just overthinking it, maybe he’s just that nice. And that he’ll do it for anyone on the same situation.

You were glancing his direction all night thinking about it that you lost track of how many shots you already did. All you remember was that your vision got cloudy and your head felt like it was in the clouds. And then everything went dark.

You woke up in an unfamiliar room, covered in unfamiliar blanket over an unfamiliar bed. You looked around. The room was painted gray, and the window is covered in dark blue curtains. You saw a few lights streaking out from the corners that made you realized it’s already morning.

On the other side of the wall, you saw pictures lined up on display. They were beautifully taken sceneries just like the ones you always like to see from the photography books you collect.

As you are busy admiring each piece of prints, you heard the bedroom door opened and you quickly turned to see JB.

Seeing your surprised face, “Are you already awake?” he asked.

“Yeah… I’m sorry. Uhm… where am I?”

“Oh, ugh, this is my house.”, he walked closer “You got drunk last night, and nobody seems to know where you live, so I took you here. “, he paused and panicked,” Don’t worry! Nothing happened. I didn’t do anything. I promise!”

You giggled at his panicked expression but quickly cleared your throat to compose yourself. “Uhm…”, you pointed to the pictures hoping to change the conversation and also satisfy your curiosity, “Are these taken by you?”

“Yup!”, he answered proudly looking over the pictures as well. “I love taking sceneries like this.”

How can you be so perfect? was the words you thought of in your head and instead the words that you said was, “You’re very talented.”

“...They’re beautiful.”, you added.

“And so are you.” he answered, and you turned to his direction finding him looking deep in your eyes. So deep that it made you held your breath.

Looking closer at you, he can’t deny his feelings anymore. And the way you look this morning doesn’t help at all. Your hair that was always cleanly tied up away from your face was now flowing messily down the sides of your cheeks and chin, framing your features perfectly. Your eyes that were always behind glasses are now open. And it was beautiful and clear, clear enough that he sees his reflection through it. It was just too beautiful that JB couldn’t stop himself from reaching his hand and hug you.

Having you enclosed in his arms he whispered, “Please be with me.” He pulled away and went back to looking at you. You were speechless.

“I know you don’t know much about me, but I wanted you to know that I have always wanted to be with you. I’ve been feeling this way for so long. All I know is I love you. And I can show it to you and prove it to you every day. Will you stay with me?”

You grinned, and instead of answering right away, you leaned your face close to his and gave him eskimo kisses in between smiles.

“It’s the same for me. I’ve wanted you for a while now. And my answer is yes, I’ll stay beside you forever. Yes, I’ll be with you.”, you replied back and this time he pressed his lips against yours, sealing your vow to each other.

** A/N: Yes, I also think they are both weird people. 

[yoonia]

50 Questions Tag

I was tagged by @katdefbeom thank you love!!!

1. What takes too much of your time?

It would be my job, recently. I have a few ongoing projects that are taking a lot of my time because I’m constantly drawing.

2. What makes your day better?

When I’m too tired to move from the couch and my cat comes bumping her forehead on mine. and a good cup of hot coffee.

3. What’s the best thing that happened to you today?

Waking up late after working non-stop since Sunday haha

4. What fictional place would you like to go to?

The world of Howl’s Moving Castle (ugh, same!)

5. Are you good at giving advice?

Nope. I can barely solve my own problems I can’t trust myself helping anyone else.

6. Do you have any mental illness?

I have mild depression growing up because of a big traumatic loss that happened during my childhood and being tossed around between one legal guardian to another. That trauma also gives me seasonal depression that occurs at the end of the year, which is the only reason why I always have to be home with my family during the holidays. Then I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder after having a huge surgery in 2013. I still get anxiety attacks once in a while but I’m trying to get better.

7. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?

Yes. A lot.

8. What musician inspired you the most?

On Kpop, it would be Yoongi and Tablo. Their stories and their music move me in many ways. In general, would be Daughter.

9. Have you ever fallen in love?

Yes. I guess. :)

10. What’s your dream date?

One day where we can lounge around, walk by the beach or just stay home with homecooked dinner and a movie marathon at home without having to worry about work getting in our way. We’ve been pretty busy the past 6 months.

11. What do others notice about you?

Timid. I don’t know, I’m really quiet in real life. People just see it as me being shy, which is half true while I just basically don’t socialise with people well unless I know them already or already close with them.

12. What is an annoying habit you have?

I’m a worrywart. But one of my bad habits that I had just got called out on recently is that I tend to disappear or stay away from people when I’m dealing with stuff. It’s like I always prefer to be on my own and create my own bubble to hide in when I have a problem or in trouble. I don’t even check my phone to return any kind of contacts people around me give whenever I do this. 

13. Do you still talk to your first love?

No, I don’t even know where he is :))

14. How many ex’s do you have?

Two. At least that’s how many times I had gotten into serious relationships.

15. How many songs are in your playlist?

OMG too many. I have too many playlists to begin with.

16. What instruments can you play?

Guitar. a bit of piano

17. Who do you have the most pictures of?

Yoongi. Jungkook. My cat, Myo.

18. Where would you like to go before you die?

My grandparents’ motherlands perhaps. I’ve always wanted to travel and track down the places where my grandparents and my parents have been.

19. What is your zodiac?

Libra

20. Do you relate to it?

Definitely yes. 

21. What is happiness to you?

Achieving my goals.

22. Are you going through anything right now?

Too. Many. Work-graduating-preparing to move-long distance relationship-writing project (original writings)-physical therapy-just therapies in general.

23. What’s the worst decision you’ve ever made?

This might be defined as worst and best, probably. But when I broke up with my overly possessive and stalker-ish ex, I had to leave not only the place I lived in or the city I was at because he would stalk me everywhere I went, so I bought a ticket to Bali where my sister was living at since I felt like it would be the safest to be with her and went there without telling anyone. I managed to escape him for a few months, met my current boyfriend there as well, but I also got my passport confiscated by my granddad ever since that day :’)

24. What’s your favourite store?

Miniso (holy yes, my ultimate guilty pleasure) and Daiso. 

25. What’s your opinion on abortion?

It’s a personal choice. What a person decides to do with their life and any part of it should never be other people’s problem.

26. Do you keep a bucket list?

I used to. I find it pointless when I know I might not have a chance to do anything about it.

27. Do you have a favourite album?

HYYH series by BTS, Epik High’s Sleepless In ______, 2014 S/S by Winner, End Credits by EDEN, The Wild Youth EP by Daughter

28. What do you want for your birthday?

Anything from BT21, a long vacation

29. What are most people’s first impression of you?

Same answer as before lol. A smol, shy person. Some people also think I’m a bit cold and guarded.  

30. What age do you seem according to most people?

Okay, here’s the deal. Way before I started posting my selfies or confessed my birth year on my blog, people have thought that I was much older because of how I act here. Meanwhile, people in real life always think I’m younger :’) 

31. Where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping?

Under the pillow, where it would be safe from Myo’s attacks. Both Toothless and Myo used to kick my phone off the dresser or the bed while I sleep so I had to keep it safe ever since.

32. what word do you say the most?

'literally’

33. What’s the oldest age you would date?

um...10 years?

34. What’s the youngest age you would date?

2-3 years. any younger I might get arrested or locked up by my overly protective brother.

35. What job/career do most people say would suit you?

Artist/painter. All the females in my immediate family have always been involved in art (my mom, grandmum, my sis) so it just naturally grew on me too.

36. What’s your favourite music genre?

I just...listen to any kind of music, basically. 

37. If you could live in any country in the world, where would it be?

Japan :)

38. What is your current favourite song?

Tired by Jutes

39. How long have you had this blog for?

Since 2016

40. What are you excited for?

Payment day :))) 

41. Are you a better talker or listener?

Listener.

42. What is the last productive thing you did?

I just spent the whole night drawing for a project and I have been working on it since Sunday with only 8 hours of sleep since then. I think that’s productive enough :/

43. What do you want for Christmas?

Anxiety free holiday.

44. What class do you get the best grades in?

English!

45. On a scale of 1-10, how are you feeling right now?

5

46. What can you see yourself doing in 10 years?  

I have no clue. I will probably be that cat lady that spends hours knitting while cursing at the world. I’m kidding, I’m hoping that my plan of creating an art or interior design studio works. If not then, yeah, cat lady life it is.

47. When did you first get your heartbreak?

My first, and biggest one ever, heartbreak happened when I was 8 years old.

48. At what age do you want to get married?

I have no plans or target on this but ask me again on my 25th birthday

49. What career did you want to have as a child?

An artist/painter and a writer on the side, just like my mom :)

50. What do you crave right now?

My bed. or probably a good coffee cause I’m still working :))

—

I am tagging: @seoulso @aiimaginesbts @seokeros @kittae @the95liner @floralseokjin @underthejoon @kpopfanfictrash @baebae-goodnight @m00nk1ld @jeonjagiya @war-of-hormoan @def-initely-soul @trbld-writer and whoever else wants to do it. But only if you want to!