#you picked the rIGHT time to flaunt your foolishness-

[monkiinart]

golden combination

[akuaya-eng]

(Main story) Chapter 6 - Episode 3

- REVEALED TRUTH -

(Adder walks in)

Espada

Adder…!

Vanis

Hey, Adder. It's rare to see you come all the way out here. Did you come to pick me up?

Adder

It seems you've been wasting time chatting. How much longer do you intend to take to capture that bastard and return?

Vanis

You could have waited a bit longer. Adder's arrival surprised everyone. Look, especially Espada.

Adder

So you're here, Espada. You still look as gloomy as ever. But you should feel good, right? Your master is about to achieve the glory of causing a calamity.

Espada

Even without the help of the Belladonna family, Lord Dia would have accomplished it alone. I don't know what you're planning... but if you intend to use Lord Dia, you'll have to deal with me.

Adder

Such an interesting guy. Since when did you start using such voluptuous language? There's a "half-devil" ring to it.

Espada

…!

Adder

It seems like you can't understand the difference in our strength. You'll never be able to part with your own human blood, Espada. It's about time you return to the Devil World. Staying with that bastard won't benefit you at all.

Espada

My place is here. I will not return.

Adder

Ha. Apparently weak ones are attracted to each other. You've always been hopeless.

Espada

…! Insult me all you want, but don't talk about Lord Dia.

Adder

Don't bark so loudly. The idea of my foolish brother becoming a watchdog is laughable. As a devil weak in both power and heart, what can you do...? Ah, too bad. Your ability to run away was excellent.

Espada

………

Dia

Adder Belladonna. Why have you come from the Devil World? Are you here for sightseeing? Is the Belladonna family that idle?

Adder

As the head of the Belladonna family, I've come to show you the path as a devil. For a thousand years you've been crying in this desolate place. Aren't you tired of wasting your life?

Dia

… What do you want to say?

Adder

It's simple. It's time to make up your mind. Abandon your lingering feelings for the human world. The opportunity is within your reach. Cause a calamity. Become a true devil. Don't be swallowed by a vortex of chaos; become the chaos itself. That is what it means to flaunt your power as a devil.

Espada

………

Dia

I was wondering what was all this dramatic entrance, but... you devils all say the same thing. If you want to pretend to be a renowned devil, try a bit of temptation. With that kind of attitude, you won't get my cooperation.

Adder

So, a being who became a devil later in life can't understand the honor of causing a calamity. What meaning does a life have if it's just weak and barely surviving? You're not that foolish, are you, Evil Prince?

Dia

………

Vanis

… Hey, Espada.

Espada

… What?

Vanis

While the important people are negotiating, why don't we have a little chat alone? For Adder to personally try to get Dia to cooperate, he must really need Dia's power.

Espada

Stop acting like it's somebody else's problem. You must control all the schemes. After all, you're the Belladonna family's dog now. If you don't follow orders, you won't be able to get a meal.

Vanis

It's not like Espada to be so mean. If I'm a dog, let's try to get along as fellow canines. Besides, I want Espada to come back. Rosé looks so lonely.

Espada

Don't make me laugh. Are you really concerned about Rose? You probably just want to offer Rodé a new toy because you're tired of playing with him.

Vanis

Sharp as always. But I don't mind. It's true, Rosé's behavior is interesting. But-- I think it would be even more fun if Espada was there. That's all.

Espada

Give it up. I won't return to that mansion and deal with Rosé.

Vanis

I see. That's a pity. I'll save the temptation for next time… Hey, Espada. You should support your master more.

Espada

… It's Lord Dia's decision. It's not my place to interfere.

Vanis

After all, Espada is half human too. You understand Dia's feelings, don't you?

Espada

… I have nothing to tell you.

Vanis

Hehe, your loyalty is impressive. I should learn from you.

----------

Adder

The next calamity we plan will cause immense damage to humans and angels, plunging them into despair. Their lack of self-awareness about their place needs to be corrected. That's one of our missions as devils.

----------

Fiori

If I keep just listening in silence… That guy… is gonna do whatever he wants…

----------

Adder

You can't think you can escape this mission forever... Besides, you've never caused a calamity since becoming a devil, have you?

Dia

………

Espada

…!?

----------

Fiori

Huh…? What did he say…

(thinking) That was close…! My voice was too loud… Good. It seems they haven't noticed I'm eavesdropping.

----------

Espada

Lord Dia has never caused a calamity…?

----------

Fiori

So, that means… The "Red Moon Calamity" has nothing to do with the prince…!?

----------

Espada

Lord Dia…

----------

Fiori

Prince, what does this mean…?

----------

Dia

………

[gasstationpopcorn]

“I’m a good Christian woman, honey. I have nothing to say to that. ‘Cause you picked the right time to flaunt your foolishness in front of all of my friends, fans, family, and folks at home. The absolute nerve. I’m a teacher and a mentor.”

[not-harukal524]

His meat cleaver isn’t but his *I get hit by a truck*

…. Anon, if I may quote a Queen: “I'm a good Christian woman, honey. I have nothing to say to that. 'Cause you picked the right time to flaunt your foolishness in front of all of my friends, fans, family, and folks at home. The absolute nerve.”

[sumiiregarii]

"I'm a good Christian woman, an' I have nothin' to say to tha'. 'Cause you picked the right time to flaunt your foolishness in front of all my friends, fans, family an' folks at home... The absolute nerve, I'm a teacher an' a mentor... You talkin' all tha' foolishness."

[vanillanaps]

Unthinkable | Bucky Barnes

Summary - Tired of hiding your relationship with Bucky, you decide that you’re ready to go public, but when he doesn’t have the reaction you expect, things take a turn for the worst

A/n - Unthinkable x Alicia Keys

Category - 40s!Bucky x black!Reader, angst

Warnings - well it’s the 40s with a black reader so, language, implied smut (if you squint) talks alluding to racism.

Word count - 2.0k

♡♡♡♡

A soft breeze gushed through the open space of the cracked window, filling the room with crisp air. Yours, along with his, body laid beneath the thin fabric that barely covered anything. Slick with sweat limbs were limp, chest heaving as your breathing tried to regulate. You were connected to one another, his fingertips trailing the side of your naked hip as his warm lips pressed soft kisses onto your shoulder.

“I should go soon, doll.” He muttered into your neck, a smile gracing his lips once he heard you groan. Wrapping his arms fully around your waist and pulling your body flush against his, “I know, I know. I don’t wanna go either, but I have to.”

You relished in the moment for a while longer. The way his lips felt against yours, his calloused hands following along the curves of your body, gripping it where he pleased before it all ended. Bucky pulled away from you with one last kiss. You watched him as he sat on the side of your bed, pulling his boxers up his legs and over his hips.

A quiet sigh escaped you as the dread flooded in. You hated this. Bucky quietly sneaking his way into your neighborhood, into your window to spend a few hours of the night with you. A whole 19 hours passing by before you could hold him in your arms again. Sure, you’d see him on the streets, but what good was that? You couldn’t walk over to him, hug him, hold his hand, kiss him. Hell, you would barely be able to speak to him without receiving the looks you had gotten for simply just living in your skin. But, was it worth it? Was fearing the way people viewed you worth you finally being happy in public with the love of your life? Would it be worth letting the plethora of women that came up to flirt with Bucky fly free? Countless amounts of times had you watch women walk up and flirt with your man. Of course, he’d turn them down but not without that charming smile that had them still thinking they had a chance. That charming smile that won you over in the first place.

You wanted to be able to flaunt Bucky. To tell those women that he was taken by you. To be able to tell your family that you were in a happy relationship and found someone to spend the rest of your life with. A man that you were so deeply in love with and who were ready to have a family with, but you couldn’t do that in hiding.

Your eyes followed Bucky around your room as he collected his scattered clothes, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He glanced over at you, letting you know that he was listening before pulling on his pants. Taking your lip between your teeth, watching him dress, you started second guessing yourself. What if he didn’t feel the same as you did? What if he only liked you because it was a secret? He would be satisfied with his lay for the night and was relieved in the fact that he wouldn’t be bothered by you until he would be by your window again—No, no. Bucky wouldn’t do that, Bucky loved you inside and out, he would never use you in the way that you're implying. He’d never use you in a way that you didn’t want to be used, “Doll? What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?”

The concern in his voice pulled you from your thoughts and pushed away all the bad ones. He sat besides you, his steel blue eyes locked into your brown ones. You finally spoke, “..What do you think of me?”

Bucky eyebrows shot up in surprise. He could tell by the look on your face that something was bothering you, but was he expecting this question? Not in a million years, “What kind of question is that?” He huffed out a laugh.

“Buck, be serious.” You pouted, pulling yourself up to lean against the headboard, using the blanket to cover your chest, “What do you think of me?”

His eyes searched your face, finally realizing that you were serious. Had he done something recently to make you doubt yourself in such a way? Had he not been showering you in enough love whenever he got a chance to see you? Did he not call you beautiful enough? Spew to you much he loved you?

He nodded taking your hand into his, letting his thumb brush over your knuckles, “Well first, I think you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You’re gorgeous, smart, hilarious, compassionate. You’re the only woman that I have ever loved more than anything in this world. And I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you...someday.”

Someday. Someday. Someday. The word repeated over and over in your head. Someday when? Today? Tomorrow? In the near future? How could it be someday when there wasn't a day the two of you had been seen together.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Nerves taking over your entire body. It was now or never. If he loved you like he said he did, there would be no objections, “I don’t wanna hide us anymore, Bucky.”

This time, it was Bucky’s turn for his heart to beat out of his chest. Were you being serious? Where did all this come from? The two of you had a schedule and it was there for a reason.

His eyebrows furrowed as he let out a nervous chuckle, “Baby, you’re joking—right? Tell me you’re joking?”

Your chest filled with pain as the tears bubbled in your eyes, pulling your hand from his grasp as you cleared your throat desperately not wanting to cry, “I’m serious, James.” His face dropped at the usage of his first name. He hated when you called him that. It was too serious—too formal. James didn’t feel like him. To you, he was Bucky, baby. Now you sat here calling him by his government, it definitely wasn’t a joke.

“But, why? Why would you want that? I mean, we do this for a reason, Doll.” He expressed, trying to reach out for your hand again only for you to push it away as you scrabbled out of the bed, scanning the room for your clothes now as he took your spot from watching on the bed.

“Why would I want that? Maybe because I’m sick and tired of us having to hide. Seeing you for what? 5 hours out of the 24 of the day? Sometimes even longer due to us working, or just having separate lives completely?” You ranted, pulling your undergarments on, picking up your dress from hours before and tossing it in the hamper, “I want to be seen with you, Bucky. I want to be able to kiss and hug you without a care in the world. Walk down the street holding your hand. Cuddle up with you at the theatre while watching a movie. I want to tell those girls that come up to that you’re taken! I don’t want to watch from the sidelines anymore! I’ve been doing it for a year and I don’t want to be your dirty little secret anymore!”

“Y/n, lower your voice before someone gets suspicious.” Bucky told you as he stood from his spot on your bed and made his way over to you, stopping you from wandering around the room. You were frustrated and he could tell by the way you had started cleaning in the middle of your rant, “Look at me.” He pleaded, face following yours as you turned it in every way trying to avoid him, but eventually his hand came up to grab your chin, forcing your face to stay still as his eyes came in contact with yours, “I hear you baby, loud and clear. I love you and I’d never want you to feel unhappy or insecure in our relationship—but we do this for a reason. Do you have any idea about the things people will say about you? The looks you’ll get? Baby we can’t, not now at least.”

“What can they say about me that they already haven’t, Bucky?” You sighed, finally letting that tear slip down your cheek, “I don’t care about them, I care about you! I care about us! And this—situation we have is hurting me.”

“I’m just trying to protect you.” He tried explaining.

You pushed his hand away, moving away from his body as you walked to the opposite side of the room, “Trying to protect me or trying to protect you?”

“Excuse me?” Bucky was taken back by your words.

Your tongue ran over your now dried lips, the saltiness from your tears now lingered on your taste buds, “How can you say you want to spend the rest of your life with me when you don’t even want to be seen in public with me?”

Now it was his turn to get defensive, “Don’t put words into my mouth.”

“How else am I supposed to take it?! What are you protecting me from, hmm? Have you listened to anything I’ve said?! People are going to talk about me because I’m just me. Simply because my skin is darker than yours and theirs.Whether I’m with you or not! I don’t care about what people think of me, if I did they would’ve ran me out of this town a long time ago. The only opinion I care about is yours!” You argued, “But clearly you do care about what everyone else says.”

Bucky stood there, shocked and confused. Just a few days ago, you were perfectly confined in what the two of you had been doing for over a year now. What had drastically changed that had you wanting to risk it all, “Yes, Y/n, I do care because I don’t want to sit and listen to people shit talk the girl I’m in love with! I want to marry you! I will marry you! I’ll propose to you right now and go out to get you a ring. I will do anything to make you happy and you know that. Why can’t you do this for me and just be patient?”

“Patient ‘till when? No matter where we go, we will get looks from people, Bucky! There’s no stopping that!” You were exasperated. This was getting nowhere, he was hellbent on staying a secret and you were the exact opposite. You were foolish to ever think this would work. Not in these times, “It’s getting late. Maybe you should just go.”

“So that’s it? You’re gonna kick me out now?” He questioned, waiting for response, but when your eyes never left the ground he got his answer. Bucky shook his head as put his shoes on before grabbing his jacket and going over to your window, opening it more. His escape route since it caused less attention than your front door. He glanced back at you one more, “I love you.” If possible, you’d be able to hear his heart shatter into a thousand pieces when you didn’t return your affection. There was never a time he didn’t leave you without the both of you saying I love you. This has done it now.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he left through the window. You waited a minute before going over to check if he was clear as you shut the window. Not a moment passed by before the tears began rolling. You questioned how a simple request had turned into this whole fiasco. You should’ve listened to your gut and never asked that stupid question because now everything you worked for, had gone to waste. All the love and commitment that had been put into your relationship was in the trash. Guess it wasn’t meant to be after all.

[the-slasher-files]

Hello there! I’m back with another request. Can you write some headcanons of Michael, Jason, Bo and Bubba if their S/O was an artist? I’m an artist and I would love to see their reaction if I showed them one of my latest drawings.

Yay.. ok so I’ve got a few requests for this (from a shy s/o to a confident one) so I kind of mixed them together :) also btw I don’t write for Bubba but I will write for all the others, plus more! hope you enjoy 🔪💕  

MASTERLIST

SLASHERS WITH S/O THAT LOVES TO DRAW OR IS AN ARTIST

INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, VINCENT, and CHROMESKULL

JASON VOORHEES

First of all living where you do at the cabin there is so much inspo from deer, to the lake, to changing of the seasons.. It is honestly the best place for an artist

Jason always noticed a black notebook lying around with pens and pencils on every other surface, and you were oddly protective of the book, so he left it alone respecting your boundaries

Sitting with him in the quiet cabin Jason loved the sounds of the pencils scratching along the paper, and he loved to watch the soothing motions of your wrist going to work

Slowly he will become more and more interested in what you're doing and he needs to see. Sneakily inching himself closer to you as you work away and stretching his neck as far as he can, catching a glimpse then feeling guilty

Jason wants to respect you so much but it kills him that you’re not showing him. So when you were in the shower he quickly ran to the book and gently ran his fingers over your work, amazed at how good everything was and how you brought the nature/animals to life in the book from around the camp

Flipping a page then he is met with sketches of himself, with the mask and without, his hands, some of his wounds with the bones sticking out... it was beautiful and he couldn’t look away until you walked into the room pushing him away from the book but seeing his expression made you melt, he loved it so much and slowly brought out confidence in you, making you show him your work all the time

A few times he had brought some art supplies home from a group of teens that came along

One day he came home to canvases all over the floor and red paint splattered all over your old t-shirt Jason freaked out thinking it was blood in the dim lighting, he stepped on your canvases with muddy boots and held you up making you yelp... “Baby it’s just paint”... well now he feels foolish and upset for stepping on your art

The next night he still felt bad but you showed him what you had created from “the incident”... Bright colours framed the bootprint and brought out the muddy tones, some of the canvases had pressed flowers along the details of the print and it was so beautiful Jason immediately hung them on the wall  

Just an fyi he wants to always do crafts with you lol so make sure you help him

MICHAEL MYERS

Now this guy is pretty indifferent to everything but something about your art brings out a new side in him

You can say a lot of things about Michael but you cannot say he isn’t observant, he sees everything and knows everything

Like Jason he notices your many notebooks and various art supplies around the house, but he is far more intrusive than Jason and will rip the notebook from your hands holding your neck if you protest as he flips through it

Watching his face nothing changes, he just scans the pages then throws the notebook down walking away leaving into the night

The next morning notebook, paints, pens, brushes and other supplies litter the kitchen counter... wonder who got those???

Michael loves watching you work on your art, watching your facial expressions, the way the pens run along the paper and how the paint coats the canvases.. oop you just gave him an idea

One night he came home gruesomely cover in blood a little more than extra, and Michael moves above you and the art you are working on, whoops he is dripping blood on the canvas, then smearing it, then moving his knife along it using it as a brush, I guess

You yelled at him at first but watching how he seemed to enjoy the colours mixing together and the way the blood dried was sort of.. cute

You knew Michael had a funny and creative side just by the way he walked into the bedroom one night with a sheet over himself and sunglasses on, and the way he leaves marks on your body in a certain pattern or framing his favourite features of you. Michael’s art was his kill you realized

He really loves your pieces, even though he would never say so and Michael’s favourites were the sketches of himself you did and he would paint blood along them

You weren’t gonna lie it made the portraits more interesting and honestly beautiful, they quickly became your favourites as well

I’m sorry but my horny self just wants to see Michael in an all-black suit at an art gallery admiring the masked portrait of himself covered in blood... sorry but it’s hot lol

BO SINCLAIR      

So Bo is not really observant so it might take him a while to notice the art supplies around the house but even then he thinks it’s just Vincent’s

You will probably have to do just do the art in front of him before he gets that its your art supplies.. man sucks lol

Bo really enjoys your company when he is in the shop, you just sitting there working away in your notebook and him under the hood of his truck

He doesn’t necessarily push to see what you’re drawing but Bo teases, the harder you hide it the harder he teases... “what ya got in there sex drawings?” “Fuck darlin’ let me be your model”

If you don’t want him to see what you’re doing never leave your notebook behind because the man is a snoop in every sense of the word

Bo 100% supports your art even though he isn’t very interested in it and doesn’t really get it, if it makes you happy he will steal supplies from his twin and if victims have notebooks or pens he will bring them to you immediately  

On a day where you decided to spend the day at the shop, sitting on your chair sketching away while Bo was organizing his tools, he kept catching your glances and smirked “Baby, you need somethin?” he would ask smugly.

“Nope” a simple answer not stroking his ego “gonna grab a beer from downstairs you want one?” Bo nods as you make your way to the mini-fridge. Quickly the man strides over to the notebook, opening the page where you had placed your pencil. He knew it, sketches of himself, it makes his ego skyrocket.

“BO!!” pushing him away and he grabs the book holding it just out of your reach smirking “Momma always said I’d be a good model” “Don’t flatter yourself Sinclair, you’re the only man around for miles that doesn’t wear a mask or look like a trash man” you laughed as him smirk fell... run

He honestly loves your art even though Bo gives you a hard time... His favourite thing is falling asleep to the pencil sounds against the paper when you’re laying in bed together

VINCENT SINCLAIR

SAAAAAAME... lol

The man notices right away that he begins to lose his an unused notebook and some of his best art pencils

It made you very nervous to show Vincent what you sketched and painted since he was just so good at art in every way. It was unfair

His favorite thing to do with you is make little sculptures from wax or clay, he could tell you were very creative and good at what you made, and he would always be super supportive

Vincent’s praise and support made you more comfortable with doing your art around him and even showing him. The man loves it and loves all of it

Different from his brother, Vinny respects you a lot and is fine with not looking in your notebook until you’re ready to show him. He hates when people see his unfinished work and flip through his notebooks as well

The good thing about dating him is Vincent’s art stuff is now yours

Also he is a very good teacher, somehow though he cannot talk, Vinny never makes you feel bad about your art and if you need help he is more than happy to support

Art date nights!! Getting the idea from your phone, you lit all the candles and brought down all the paint you could along with the large unused canvases you had found. When Vincent strolls downstairs his eyes go wide, seeing you in just your bra and underwear “I’m ready for art class Vin” you giggle

When he finds your paintings or sketches of himself without his mask Vincent’s heart melts, finding someone like you to love him, let alone see his destroyed features as art kills him

CHROMESKULL

Jesse is a very watchful human, even when he isn’t at home the guy has cameras literally everywhere

When he was gone on a "business trip" you had all the free time in the world, plus you had picked up some new art supplies, so why not work a large piece when Jesse isn't around to distract you... When you had worked on for a few hours you got a text 'How's the painting coming along?' And that's when you realized cameras are everywhere!

If you are a shy person with your art he basically doesn’t allow you to be, he’s a pushy spoiled man but he is also very supportive and it makes you more confident in showing him  

Jesse honestly loves art and has many expensive paintings in his large home, so when he sees your art you better believe he will have Preston frame the art and put it on the walls, with special art gallery lights really making it look perfect

If you need any and I mean any art supplies no matter how expensive Jesse supports it *hands you his gold credit card*

"Oh.. renovations? To the already perfect mansion?" "Yup.. it's your new art studio"

Art, wine and cheese nights... the perfect date

Feeling uninspired? alright time to change the scenery, let’s go to a tropical destination or a wintery cabin. The man wants to spoil you and put your passion at the top of his priority list, plus he just wants a vacation and see you in your swimwear

It doesn't matter if you're shy about your art or confident Jesse will say he is taking you to an event, get you all dolled up and take you to an art gallery event that is just your art... surprise! Dumb rich bastard loves your work and flaunts it to everyone he can

[teacupfulofstarshine]

you're the pink in my cheeks (i'm a little bit soft)

summary: "and i know we'll never grow old together / cause you'll never grow old to me / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft / you're the pink in my cheeks / and i love that it means i'm a little bit soft"

- "monster," marceline (adventure time)

(OR: 5.4k of soft domestic lesbian!analogical, featuring lesbian!moceit, trans male!remus, trans female!roman, and Gay Shenanigans)

a/n: huge thank you to dandie for beta'ing this fic!

i just wanted to write wlw is that so wrong of me? no. no it is not.

CW: alcohol mentions, a few sex jokes, swearing, one implied instance of potential sexual activity (although it doesn't go any farther than making out; if you want to skip that part, skip the section that starts with "Did you get the right kind of popcorn?")

word count: ~5.4k

read it on ao3!!

“I think I may be going insane,” Logan says, squinting at her laptop screen. Virginia, hanging upside-down in the armchair, looks up from her phone and blinks.

“And why is that?”

“Because I am starting to agree with Rosie’s anti-Florida agenda.”

“I didn’t realize that there was an anti-Florida agenda.”

“Rosie has one, and I have always thought it facetious. However, if this laboratory does not start sending me my requested samples and information in a timely manner, I will be forced to concede that Rosie may have . . . a point.”

“You, agreeing with a lit major? I never thought I’d see the day,” Virginia teases. Logan initially resists the urge to stick her tongue out or flip Virginia off, because that would be childish, but then she remembers that Virginia does not care about her childishness, so she sticks her tongue out. Virginia snorts with laughter, and Logan feels warm, fizzy pop-rocks bursting in her chest.

Her phone buzzes next to her, and she picks it up. There’s a new message blinking for her attention on the screen.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

a, b, or c

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

. . . What?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

*rolls eyes*

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

i need you to make a selection, logan. a, b, or c.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

I am confused. What am I selecting between?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Yes. I would like to know. That is why I asked you.

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Also, I am not a meteorologist. Or a boy.

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

it’s a meme, i’m sure v will be happy to show you the og. but first: make a choice

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Option B, I suppose?

[from: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

vodka it is!

[to: snesbian (snake lesbian)]

Wait, what?

Her phone buzzes again, another text thread lighting up, and Logan abandons the now-fruitless conversation with Jan to see that her wife has texted.

[from: soda poppy]

y is jan fillin a thermos with vodka and sayin u gave her the go ahead? >:(

[to: soda poppy]

I am unsure. She texted me asking me to make a choice between “a, b, and c” with no context given. When I eventually selected “b,” she excitedly mentioned vodka and logged off.

[from: soda poppy]

her an remy r going 2 a pta meeting tonight an i guess they’re goin drunk

[to: soda poppy]

Is that a . . . normal occurrence?

[from: soda poppy]

sadly yeah

[to: soda poppy]

Wait, is she even allowed to attend PTA meetings? You two don’t have any children?

[from: soda poppy]

she’s on the school board so she has the right 2 attend. idk if she’s supposed to or not but its never stopped her b4

“Everythin’ good over there?” Virginia asks.

“I believe I may have just enabled Jan to attend a PTA meeting drunk.” Virginia snorts, swiping at her phone.

“Good for her, honestly. The only reason she and Poppy live in that neighborhood is so that Jan can flaunt her wife in front of all the capital-s Straight people, because she’s a petty fuckin’ bitch.”

“That is a strange word choice for your best friend.”

“I hate Jan, she’s a bitch,” Virginia says, smirking fondly at her phone. Logan knows her girlfriend well enough to know that this statement is disingenuous, so she stands up, stretching her arms above her head, and leans down to drop a kiss onto Virginia’s forehead.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan blinks awake slowly, feeling for the position of her limbs. She’s on her left side, left arm tucked up under her pillow to cradle her head, wrapped in the thick comforter of their bed. Her right arm is slung across Virginia’s body, and her girlfriend is pressed up against her, head tucked right under Logan’s chin and face nestled into her neck and chest. Virginia breathes, slow and deep and even, and Logan hums, huffing out a soft exhale.

She carefully wiggles out of bed, tucking the comforter around Virginia’s curled-up form. Virginia grumbles when the cool morning air slips against her skin, because she is a foolish woman who insists upon sleeping in short shorts and a spaghetti-strap tank top no matter the current weather patterns. Logan wraps her up, making sure that she’s shifted into the middle of the warm divot of body heat, and Virginia settles in, asleep again in a heartbeat.

Logan turns to the corner chair, where her early-morning outfit is already laid out: athletic leggings, a sports bra, a moisture-wicking quarter zip jacket. She changes quietly, lights off, and tugs on a pair of ankle socks before slinking into the bathroom. Once the door is shut, she flicks on the soft lights over the vanity and carefully undoes her sleep braid. Normally, Virginia does Logan’s hair, because Logan is not good at dealing with her wavy, tangled, curly mess, but she won’t wake up her girlfriend for that. She can, at bare minimum, pull her hair up into a high ponytail for running purposes.

They live in a small town only a short walk (and even shorter bike ride) from the beach, full of little two-story brightly-colored beach cottages. Logan steps off her front porch, pulls out her phone, and quickly shoots a text.

[to: ginny <3]

I am headed to the beach for my weekly run. I will likely return before you wake up, but in case I do not: I will be back before 9 AM.

[to: ginny <3]

I love you <3

Logan kicks up the kickstand on her bike, runs her fingers over the glossy dark-blue paint flecked with white and silver and gold to mimic stars, and swings one leg over the bike seat. She carefully pedals out into the narrow road and heads for the beach. The cool early-morning air whips past her face, and she chances a glance up at the dark-blue-turning-light-blue-grey sky and smiles.

She’s always been an early-morning morning person, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan’s sneakers dig into the hard-packed wet sand along the water’s edge as she runs. Seagulls scatter in front of her, and the podcast Virginia recommended hums in her ear. The sun creeps up, up, up onto the horizon, coloring the blue-grey into streaks of brilliant pink and orange and gold, light reflecting off the water in resplendent diamond sparkles.

Logan runs half a mile down the beach, turns around, runs back to where she started and then runs half a mile in the other direction before turning around and running back to her starting point. By the time she’s bent over, hands on her knees, huffing out breath while her legs burn pleasantly, the sun has emerged fully from the ocean, and Logan is beginning to wish she had worn a visor.

She takes a moment to appreciate the sensory experiences of being on a nearly-abandoned beach: the scent of salt water, the sound of waves crashing against sand, the errant cries of gulls squabbling over fish. Their little beach is not nearly pristine enough for a tourist attraction, and too far north along the Atlantic coast to be warm year-round. Still, Logan loves it, and cannot imagine living anywhere else.

She hunts along the water’s edge as she walks, briefly, a cool-down before the bike ride home. She finds a few things worth photographing, a few crabs to shoo back into the ocean, and a few things worth gathering: an intact clam shell whose smooth curve runs unbroken from the heel of her palm to the tip of her index finger when she lays it flat in her hand, a light gray rock worn smooth by the waves that turns dark-gray-almost-black when wet, a small spiral shell that she thinks may have broken off of the top of a snail shell. Logan wraps all three things carefully in a small handkerchief from the little bag she keeps in her bike basket, pulling out her phone to note the time (8:37 AM) and the message notification flashing at her.

[from: ginny<3]

dunno why you insist on being a morning person. stop by the dunkin on your way back and get us breakfast?

[to: ginny<3]

You had Dunkin for breakfast three times this week. You should consume something healthy.

[from: ginny <3]

>:( >:( >:( >:(

[from: ginny <3]

counterpoint: you bringing me dunkin is better than me not eating breakfast at all. which is the alternative because i do not want to get up and prepare anything

[to: ginny <3]

Your womanly wiles will not work on me in regards to Dunkin breakfast.

[from: ginny <3]

bitch (affectionate)

[to: ginny <3]

Would you like me to make you breakfast on my return, beloved?

[from: ginny <3]

. . .

[from: ginny <3]

will you make me an omelette? with all the cheesy goo an shit?

[to: ginny <3]

I will make you an omelette with some degree of “cheese goo.”

Logan slides her phone into her pocket, huffing out a laugh at her girlfriend’s behavior, and hops onto her bike again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Your omelettes are always so much better than mine,” Virginia says, moaning as she sinks her teeth into an enormous bite of egg and cheese. Logan, calmly dicing bell peppers to mix into her own omelette, smiles.

“All food tastes better when it is prepared by someone who is not you.”

“You’ve clearly never had anything the twins have cooked.” Virginia takes another bite, pops a multivitamin into her mouth, and chases it down with a gulp of milk. “Besides, it tastes better because you made it.”

“I am not the most accomplished chef in the world, certainly, but I am glad you enjoy my cooking.”

Virginia laughs softly. “Lo, I like your food because it’s prepared by someone who loves me. I can taste the love in everything you make for me.”

Logan turns back to her peppers to hide her blush. “Love is not a measurable ingredient when cooking.” Virginia laughs again, louder this time; when Logan sets the knife down, she hears Virginia’s chair scrape out behind her as she stands, feels her arms wrap around her waist, feels the cool skin of her face press into her neck.

“Love you.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Stressful day at work?” Logan asks, hearing the door slam.

Virginia kicks off her flats, sending them flying into the wall with a clatter. Logan sets down her crochet project and moves toward the entrance of their house, where Virginia is shrugging off her rainjacket to reveal a mint-green Peter Pan-collared blouse and dark gray dress pants. “The stressiest.”

Logan takes the jacket and shakes it out on the tiled entranceway before hanging it on the hook. “I am sorry, beloved.”

“Lots of assessments, lots of parents who don’t understand why I’m assessing their kid, lots of parents insisting that there’s nothing wrong with their kid, or that there’s no way their kid could possibly have the deficits that I’m seeing. Like, I wouldn’t make this shit up, you know? Literally, let me help your child. You came to me, remember? I’m not in the habit of imposing myself onto people.”

“That sounds very stressful,” Logan says. She tries to picture a life where she spends all her time interacting with people she doesn’t know on a regular basis instead of her little corner of the university biochemistry lab where she only has to interact with three or four known people and her immediate supervisor, mostly by email. It sends icy fingers skittering down her spine.

“It is, I hate it. I mean, Kitty’s my supervisor until I get my C’s, so if I have problems I can consult with her, but like . . . why are people the way that they are.”

Logan stretches up and presses a gentle kiss to Virginia’s cheek. “I love you, Ginny.”

Virginia exhales and folds herself around Logan, draping her body over her girlfriend and going limp and boneless. “I don’t wanna be a real person for the rest of the night.”

“That can be arranged.”

“But it’s my night to make dinner.”

“I do not mind switching and having you make dinner tomorrow,” Logan says. “This is an acceptable deviation from the routine.” Virginia pushes her face into Logan’s neck, and Logan nuzzles the side of her head, and she sighs like the entire world has lifted off her chest.

*~*~*~*~*

(This is how it starts:

Logan, taking a class on British literature in her sophomore year because she needs to meet her core requirements. Logan, meeting Rosie, disagreeing with her on almost every single point she raises in class, hating when they’re paired up for their midterm project but earning the best grade in the class overall. Logan, seeing a text from Rosie about how her housemate needs people to participate in a research study for extra credit. Logan, making the long trek down to the health sciences building and seeing Virginia for the first time, thinking that she’s pretty and not knowing that she’ll be thinking that for the rest of her life.)

*~*~*~*~*

“Hello, gorgeous,” Virginia hums.

“Are you talking to me or to the mint plant?” Logan says, aggressively stabbing her pointer finger against the Delete key. It clacks loudly, and she mutters an insult under her breath. “I am going to set myself on fire. I swear to god, I am.”

“Obviously the mint plant,” Virginia says, turning and dropping a kiss on Logan’s head. “You okay, honey?” Logan grumbles more and shoves the laptop away from her with a disgruntled noise. Virginia moves the laptop away and leans over to kiss her forehead.

“I am trying to politely word an email whose essence boils down to, ‘If you do not send me my fucking samples in a timely manner, I am going to be forced to commit an Atrocity the likes of which this earth has never seen’,” Logan says.

Virginia laughs so hard that she sits down on the tiled kitchen floor, wiping tears from her eyes. “You are so funny,” she wheezes. Logan feels her irritation fade a little under the brightness of her girlfriend’s joy. “Let me see the email, I’m good at professional bullshitting.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Braid my hair!” Rosie says, throwing herself down onto the couch. Logan lifts her laptop up just in time to keep Rosie’s head from slamming into the keyboard.

“Ginny is your best bet for braids, Rosie. I have limited experience.”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy, It just has to be off my neck.”

Logan saves her document and sets her laptop on the coffee table, poking at Rosie’s ribs until she slides onto the floor and settles cross-legged between Logan’s thighs. “A comb and some hair-ties would be appreciated.”

“REMUS!” Rosie shouts.

“WHAT?”

“BRING ME A BRUSH AND SOME HAIR BANDS!”

“GET YOUR OWN!”

“I’m going to kill that man,” Rosie mutters, rolling to her feet. There are suspicious muffled thumping noises from the other room for a few minutes before Rosie emerges, victorious, hair somehow even messier than it was in the first place.

“You are the single loudest person I have ever met,” Logan sighs, taking the comb and the hair ties and beginning to drag it through Rosie’s curls. Rosie winces, just a little, at the pull of the comb, and Logan tries to be more gentle.

“Thank you!”

“I did not say that was a compliment.

“Hey!”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan tugs her sweatshirt sleeves down from where she’d rolled them up previously, shivering a little. Part of her wishes that she had worn leggings instead of capris as she drags the folding chair a little closer to the bonfire, toes dragging through the still-sun-warmed sand. The speaker set up on the food table blasts some sort of current pop music, and Rosie and Poppy dance around each other, chanting the lyrics at each other. They are both very loud and very off-key and, Logan suspects, fairly drunk as well. Remus is in the ocean (definitely buzzed, potentially naked) and Jan is standing at the edge of the ocean, watching to make sure he stays alive.

“Hey,” someone says, low and rumbling in her ear. Logan does not flinch (just barely) and turns to see Virginia, holding a plastic cup with a poorly-drawn sketch of the state of Virginia on it. Her hair is starting to come loose from its messy bun, and her sweater sleeves keep sliding down over her wrists and nearly dunking into her drink, and her breath smells sweet and alcoholic. When she lifts her hand to Logan’s cheek, her fingers are cool, and Logan shivers.

“How’s my girl?” Virginia asks.

“Cold,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia laughs, tipping her head back and exposing the long strip of her neck. Logan wants to lick it.

“You’re adorable,” Virginia says, leaning in and pressing her mouth against Logan’s ear. Her breath is warm and slightly damp. “So pretty, my Logan, and so smart. I bet you know exactly what chemical compounds are making the flames turn that color, hmmm?”

Logan can feel her face burning hotter than the bonfire, but Virginia just sits languidly in her lap, feet propped up on the armrest. Her toes are painted pale purple, and the glitter sparkles in the firelight.

“How many drinks have you had?” Logan asks.

“Enough to feel all tingly,” Virginia says, swirling whatever’s in her cup. “How many have you had?”

“None,” Logan answers honestly. Virginia leans her head against Logan’s shoulder, and her wispy frizz tickled Logan’s nose. She sneezes, and Virginia giggles in the high-pitched, superficial way she only giggles when she gets really, really drunk.

“You sound so cute when you sneeze.”

“I do not.”

“Of course you do,” and now Virginia is looking at her, eyes glowing warm in the firelight. “You sound cute when you do anything. You’re cute when you exist. You’re cute no matter what. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Logan hates the taste of alcohol, but she leans in and kisses Virginia anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

“Lo.”

“Hmmm?”

“Pick a color.”

“What?”

“I’m painting my toes again. Pick a color for me.”

Logan flops over onto her stomach, staring at the neat row of creme polishes sitting on their ottoman. Virginia’s bare feet are propped up in front of them, spread apart awkwardly with neon lemon gel toe spreaders, and she studies the nail polish like she’s trying to determine which vial isn’t poisoned.

“I like that one,” she says finally, pointing to a pale pink polish the color of the flowers Virginia brought her on their first date. Virginia hums, picking the bottle up and tilting it critically in the light.

“Not the one I would have picked, but I said you could pick, so I guess we’re doing it.”

Virginia tosses some bottles of toppers (or “tacos” as she calls them, slang from one of the YouTubers she likes) onto the bed while she paints her toes, and Logan sifts through them to settle on a blue-yellow iridescent one.

“I do not know how you can get behind wearing something called a Unicorn Skin,” Logan says. Virginia just shrugs and plucks the bottle from her hand. Their fingers overlap - Logan’s warm from where they’ve been tucked under her body, Virginia’s cool from where they’ve been gripping the glass bottle. Impulsively, Logan lifts Virginia’s fingers and kisses the tips.

“You’re going to smear the polish,” Virginia mutters, even though she painted her fingers earlier today and they’ve been dry for a while. She doesn’t bother to yank her fingers away, either, so Logan kisses them again.

*~*~*~*~*

“Logan!”

Logan is fully aware that the only thing keeping Poppy from crashing into her like a floral-sundress-covered cannonball is the casserole dish in her hands. She counts her blessings and steps aside to let Poppy in.

“Where’s Jan?”

“Getting something from the car! It’s my turn to drive us home, so she brought something to drink.”

Jan primly kicks the passenger side door shut with her heeled ankle boots, a bottle of wine grasped by the neck in each hand.

“I hope you do not intend to drink both of those in their entirety tonight,” Logan says. Jan rolls her eyes and offers one of the bottles to her.

“This one is a gift for you and Ginia. The other one is for me.”

“None for Poppy?”

“Poppy is the designated driver, so she will not be drinking. And I know she already told you that.” Logan rolls her eyes, and Jan flips her off. “Are you going to invite me in or not?”

“What are you, a vampire?” Virginia shouts from the kitchen.

“Only one of us dresses like the undead, darling, and it isn’t me,” Jan calls back, stepping into the house. “Are the twins here yet?”

“They cannot attend. Remus has orchestra practice and Rosie is teaching a dance class. You already knew both of these facts, because you are in the group text.”

“I am not.”

“You responded to a message in the group thread fifteen minutes ago.”

“That was the NSA agent assigned to monitor me.”

“You are a liar.”

“What else is new?”

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: hey every1! DONUT 4get to make ur bakesale goodies and drop them off at r house by 7 am on fri!

lo tide: Please use normal words. I am begging you.

snesbian (snake lesbian): then beg.

lo tide: I do not recall asking for your opinion.

snesbian (snake lesbian): and yet i give it to you anyway. am i not generous

virgin: if you don’t stop making fun of my gf i swear to god

virgin: also remus if you don’t stop changing my name i’m gonna end you

virgin has changed their name to gin(ny) and tonic!

gin(ny) and tonic: much better anyway

violets are blue rosie is me: i believe you meant anygay

gin(ny) and tonic: i said what i fucking said

ace attorney irl: you changed your name :(

gin(ny) and tonic: every day the Lord regrets giving all of us mod powers in this chat

snesbian (snake lesbian): i have no such regrets

lo tide: Can we circle back to the bake sale, please?

soda poppy: Whatchu wanna kno???

lo tide: I assume it is school related?

soda poppy: yep!

soda poppy: fundraising 4 this year’s art club field trip! since im the faculty advisor im in charge of approving and setting up 4 the fundraisers

lo tide: I see. And why, exactly, is it our responsibility to make things for this fundraiser? Should it not be the students’ responsibility?

soda poppy: they r makin stuff 4 it but also i gotta make sure some of the stuff will b edible yknow

lo tide: I see.

gin(ny) and tonic: listen i know that jan is like. a professional pastry chef an shit. but i’m not making anything fancy like a cheesecake or smthn

gin(ny) and tonic: i’m making like. fuckin brownies

snesbian (snake lesbian): smh don’t you care about the Children at all?

gin(ny) and tonic: no. they’re not my kids

ace attorney irl: i will make cookies

soda poppy: u cannot make them inappropriate shapes

ace attorney irl: :(

violets are blue rosie is me: do not worry, i will make sure they are an appropriate shape

violets are blue rosie is me: i’ll make cupcakes!

lo tide: I believe I have a recipe for lemon squares that I can make. Will lemon squares be sufficient?

soda poppy: yeah! just keep ur stuff free of common allergens like tree nuts

gin(ny) and tonic: so my plan to just yeet you a bag of reese’s peanut butter cups and call it a contribution is out then

*~*~*~*~*

Virginia throws a box of brownie mix into the cart and dusts her hands off. “There. Done.”

Logan raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look, we have the rest of the ingredients at home. We have tap water, we have oil, we have eggs, we don’t need anything else. What do we need for your lemon thingies?”

“Lemons, presumably.”

“You’re a comedian,” Logan deadpans. Virginia flips her off, and then leans in to kiss her cheek. “I do need lemons, though. Lemons, more eggs . . . I have a list in my phone.”

“What phone?” Virginia says, dangling Logan’s galaxy-patterned case above her head. “I think you’re too short for this, Lo.”

“Give me my phone,” Logan says, rolling her eyes. Virginia wiggles it above her head, laughing.

“Maybe you should give me something in return.”

“Like what?”

Virginia grins. “Like a kiss, perhaps?”

Logan rolls her eyes again, but she leans in and kisses Virginia gently, swiping her phone back when Virginia lowers her hand to cup her face. “Thank you for paying the toll, sweetheart.”

“You are ridiculous,” Logan says. It doesn’t stop her from gently kissing Virginia’s cheek before pushing the cart down the aisle again.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

lo tide: What time did you want us to drop off the baked goods, Poppy?

soda poppy: if ur gonna b in the area, u can just drop them off at my house!

ace attorney irl: i made some of the shapes inappropriate but those ones r 4 u and jan

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the bake sale?

ace attorney irl: . . .

soda poppy: what did u make 4 the children, remus.

ace attorney irl: nothin’ too crazy! jan had some normal summer shapes - suns, flip flops, etc. etc. used those

soda poppy: :D thx remus!

ace attorney irl: made some fishies too! but the octopi are just for u an jan.

ace attorney irl: i . . . may have painted dicks on them

soda poppy: well at least u warned me right

*~*~*~*~*

“Did you get the right kind of popcorn?” Logan asks.

“If by ‘the right kind’ you mean ‘your favorite kind,’ then yes, I did,” Virginia says, coming into the living room with a large yellow bowl full of fluffy popcorn. “What are we watching tonight? It’s your turn to pick, isn’t it?”

“Gay fish,” Logan says.

Virginia sets the popcorn on the coffee table and blinks at her. “That is . . . quite the description of Finding Nemo, sweetheart.”

“Not Finding Nemo, Ginny. Luca. It’s new, and it’s not explicitly gay, but there is a very obvious queer reading. I thought we could watch it together.”

“Anything with you sounds wonderful.”

“Sap,” Logan mutters. She leans in to kiss Virginia’s cheek, but Virginia turns at the last moment and presses their lips together.

“Are you sure you want to watch a movie?” she says. “We could just make out instead, if you want.” She pushes gently on Logan’s stomach, guiding her to lay on her back on the couch. Virginia lays on top of her, gently sliding a hand to rest warm and heavy on her stomach. She leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Logan’s neck, and then her jaw, and then rubbing their noses together.

“Tonight is movie night,” Logan says. Virginia presses their mouths together, and Logan hums, gently pressing up into the kiss. “We should be watching a movie.”

“Are you sure?” Virginia says. “I think we should pursue this avenue a little further.”

Logan squirms a little. “I - I would not - um - no, thank you.”

Virginia’s eyes, which were hazing over with something, clear as she blinks. “Okay, sweetheart.” She leans back, sits up, pulls Logan into a sitting position. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I just - I am not in the mood for that tonight. If that is okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Virginia says. She holds out a hand, and Logan takes it. Virginia kisses the back of it before settling herself on the couch. “I am so proud of you for expressing a boundary and telling me you were uncomfortable. I know that expressing boundaries is something that we’re both working on, and you did a wonderful job. Tell me what you want, Lo. Please?”

“I would like a kiss,” Logan says. “Just one. And then I would like to cuddle, and - and I would like us to watch Luca together. Is that acceptable?”

Virgil nods. “Of course, love. Come here, hmmm?” Logan settles next to her, and Virginia gently cups her cheek and presses their mouths together. “I love you, Logan. So much. Of course we can watch Luca now.”

Virginia lays an arm along the top of the couch, allowing Logan to cuddle up against her and rest her head on her chest. “I love you,” Logan says softly.

“I love you too, sweetpea.”

*~*~*~*~*

Logan rolls over, yawning, and feels a small weight displace itself from her thighs. She blinks awake slowly, lifting her head and pushing her curtain of curls aside to reveal a black cat mewing at her grumpily before settling into a sushi roll beside her.

“Did I wake you? I am sorry, Galileo . . .”

Galileo settles against her, purring softly, while the ash-grey cat at the foot of the bed pads slowly up to curl on Virginia’s back. “That’s your favorite spot, isn’t it, Andromeda?” The cat emits a soft “mrrrp” before settling back down to sleep. Logan yawns, smiles, and gently strokes her hears. “What should we do, girls? Shall we stay awake and be productive members of society?”

Neither cat responds, and Logan looks at Virginia. She’s haloed in the morning light, eyes tightly shut, mouth hanging open, drool leaking into a puddle on the pillow. She snores a little - one, two, three snorts before settling back into a deep sleep.

“No,” Logan decides, “we shall not.” She lays back down, gently nudging Galileo a few inches over so that she can snuggle up to Virginia. Galileo stretches out, pressing a paw directly into Logan’s cheek. Logan shoves her, and she resettles onto Logan’s feet with an indignant noise.

“You can sleep by my face when you do not kick my face,” Logan mutters, curling into her love.

*~*~*~*~*

groupchat name: be gay do crime

soda poppy: r u all comin 2 the bake sale 2morrow?!

lo tide: I was under the impression that we were only providing the baked goods. Is it not for the students at the school?

soda poppy: we got waaaayyyy more stuff than we thought so we r havin a 2nd bakesale 2morrow 4 parents an stuff!

soda poppy: we r gonna need sum help with setup though . . .

lo tide: Poppy, please do not even -

soda poppy: 🥺🥺🥺 p l e a s e

lo tide: Poppy.

snesbian (snake lesbian): logan

lo tide: If I agree to stop and pick up coffee for everyone, will that motivate you all to turn out?

violets are blue rosie is me: i’m always a slut for free coffee

lo tide: I’m sorry, where did I say that this would be free?

violets are blue rosie is me: D:<

ace attorney irl: eh i’m down for it. where you swingin’ by?

soda poppy: there’s a panera p close 2 where the bake sale is!!! it’s gonna b at the morning girl’s basketball game

lo tide: Does anyone have any issues with Panera coffee?

violets are blue rosie is me: nah. large iced coffee, add three ounces of half and half, two pumps of sugar syrup, two pumps of vanilla, and caramel drizzle.

ace attorney irl: complicated bitch much?

violets are blue rosie is me: why must the cain instinct betray me like this

ace attorney irl: the cain instinct started when we stole each other’s genders in the womb

violets are blue rosie is me: this is true this is true but you’re still a bitch

ace attorney irl: large hazelnut coffee, two sugars, please

snesbian (snake lesbian): large dark roast, black

soda poppy: medium decaf coffee, two ounces of almond milk, and two pumps of sugar syrup!

gin(ny) and tonic: large caramel latte

lo tide: You . . . are going to ride in the car with me to pick up the coffee, we can order our own coffees. I do not need your order, love.

lo tide: But I appreciate the information <3 <3

*~*~*~*~*

“We come bearing gifts,” Virginia announces loudly. “And by gifts, I mean we bought a baker’s dozen of cinnamon crunch bagels for everybody.”

“Well, there are twelve cinnamon crunch bagels and one plain bagel, bagged separately, for me,” Logan corrects, expertly balancing two coffee trays with a bagel container. “Also, we made more brownies.”

Poppy looks up from where she’s instructing two high-schoolers on how to hang a sign properly and grins, waving brightly. Jan is leaning on the table, hand on her head, sipping at a water bottle.

“Vodka or whiskey?” Logan asks dryly, handing over Jan’s black coffee. Jan blinks at her, flips her off, and drains a long swig from her cup.

“Water. Partied a little too hard with Remy last night, and now I’m hungover as shit.”

“We suspected as much, which is why we brought you an extra coffee.”

“Lifesaver,” Jan says, knocking back another long drag of coffee before taking a sip of her water bottle. (Logan suspects the bottle is actually Poppy’s, due to the sun-shiney stickers plastered all over it.) “You and Poppy both. But if you tell anyone that, I’ll gut you like a fish."

“No, you won’t,” Logan says, turning to hand Rosie and Remus their respective drinks. “You never do.”

Jan flips her off, but Virginia comes up behind her and leans her forehead against her shoulder. Logan turns, kissing her forehead, and smiles.

Life is good today, she thinks. Life is good.

(screen names!

virgin -> gin(ny) and tonic; ginny <3 = virginia (virgil)

lo tide = logan

snesbian (snake lesbian) = jan (janus)

soda poppy = poppy (patton)

ace attorney irl = remus

violets are blue rosie is me = rosie (roman) (thanks to @rosesisupposes for letting me borrow your screen name for this!)

[secret-engima]

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret DoTF Characterization Rant

OKAY, ME RANT RAMBLING ON LUNA’S CHARACTERIZATION IN DAWN OF THE FUTURE IS A GO.

This is … likely going to get messy, but I’ll try to keep it at least moderately coherent. Lemme start by saying that- for the most part- I did actually enjoy Luna’s chap. I’ve been enjoying the book (kinda-sorta-mostly, I really liked Aranea’s chap at least) and I don’t think it’s like- a BAD book? Necessarily? But I feel like it is extremely telling in regards to how the characterization/lore is treated that my brain is automatically filing this thing under “fanfic that’s not my HC but is okay-ish” rather than “canon I will be gleefully tweaking as I please”. My brain is literally looking at this officially licensed book and equating it to fanfic. To fanfic that NEEDS EDITING.

With that out of the way, lemme attempt to summarize my (main) issues with Luna’s Characterization and then I’ll expand on them from there. Get ready for the salt.

1. Luna’s backstory is inconsistent. She herself states multiple times that Oracle training is grueling and involves both physical and mental trials as well as things like fasting for long periods of time WHILE doing said training, yet she is mostly treated like a well-meaning but overall pampered, naive princess who is only now being forced into hard circumstances and has to adapt accordingly. She is also treated like she doesn’t know “common people” that well and doesn’t know how to interact or pick up things like lies (????). A common example is how she treats Sol as trustworthy but reserved when according to Sol’s POV she is literally debating shooting Luna as a possible threat. And Luna supposedly doesn’t pick up on this danger. But we’ll get back to that.

2. Luna is characterized as being oblivious to how people outside Rich Oracle Circles live. That despite traveling all over the world she has never really seen it’s “ugly” sides because she’s always traveled in fancy guarded processions with the sick brought to her. Pretty sure the book specifically mentions at one point that she’s never “considered” what it would be like to be anything other than an Oracle. Admittedly this issue could go under number 1 or 3a but I’m putting it here because I’m salty.

3a. This and the next problem are heavily intertwined and, not going to lie, I could make an entire rant just about these two issues all by themselves, not just in Luna’s context. The first is that Luna is portrayed as not being able to make her own decisions, not even wanting to make her own decisions, until she is forced to or has her “eyes opened” by Sol, our jaded Long Night survivor character. The author treats Luna’s sense of duty as some form of social brainwashing she needs to “get over” and spoiler alert I hate it with every fiber of my being.

3b. Playing right off the whole “Luna is incapable of making her own decisions and that’s why she does her freaking job until someone ‘opens her eyes’” is the idea that Luna’s faith is a character flaw. Lemme reiterate. The story treats Luna’s faith. As a character flaw. Rather than the entire cornerstone to her character and one of the big reasons she’s as amazing as she is. Her faith is treated as foolish and shortsighted, something that has only survived for this long because it has never been challenged and, heads up, the rant I am going to go into on this one specific thing is going to be long and extremely salty.

Alright I think I’ve covered the basics. Starting from the top, BRING ON THE SALT.

…

1. Luna is pampered, well-meaning but naive and bad at reading ulterior motives of people.

….*slow, deep breath* Luna. The Oracle. Who became the youngest Oracle in history. Because her mother was murdered in front of her while her home was burned down and conquered by the people who then proceeded to rule her country, subvert her brother to their cause, and generally control and monitor every aspect of her life that they could. Luna, who was fully prepared to take a single suitcase and escape her own home and run off alone to get to Altissia and had to be stopped by her own brother (who you’ll note brought a bunch of soldiers with him, which indicates he did not expect a submissive response if he came alone).

This girl who was canonically physically abused as a child by a Niflheim officer (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZHzBtIfpdg slow this down if you need to confirm, but she is grabbed and manhandled and hit by an adult man when she only looks to be twelve, around the age Tenebrae first fell), who has spent twelve years living under the rule of a nation that is not only aggressively atheist but has willfully attempted to kill one of the very beings she serves and openly plans to do so again. The woman who successfully survived the fall of Insomnia with only one magic-less glaive as her backup for most of the event, then evaded the search efforts of an entire empire with only her own wits, a dog, a Messenger who has only ever been shown to talk rather than fight, and the extremely grudging on-off help of her brother who works for said empire. All while waking up the Astrals and forging covenants that were slowly killing her from the strain, which is the exact thing the empire was trying to prevent her from doing. Then, when it became necessary to complete the last covenant, turned herself in to the very same empire that has imprisoned her since she was a child and has been actively hunting/trying to stop or kill her since Insomnia’s fall.

That girl. Is pampered. Is naive. Is bad at reading people and telling when they have ulterior motives or are lying.

Pull the other one. I’ll kick you.

But seriously, how are we supposed to believe this? Luna’s life post Tenebrae’s fall to Niflheim is only pampered in the sense that she was given fancy clothes and fed regularly (outside the grueling fasting periods mentioned in this same book). She had no freedom, no privacy, her guards were all either men who wore the same uniform as those who killed her mother or were monsters infected with the very scourge she is sworn to purify. The Oracle is famous, is revered by the people. To keep the people on their side, the Empire would have flaunted her, would have taken her to all the shiny events. Luna would have had to dine with, converse with, even dance with the very same people who ordered and condoned the murder of her mother, her own imprisonment, and the brainwashing of her own brother to the enemy side. She would have been the epitome of a bird in a gilded cage or a dog on a silk leash and humans are not meant to live like that.

Am I really expected to think she survived a situation that oppressive, that toxic, that actively hurtful, for years by being naive and bad at reading people? Am I really expected to believe that she cannot tell when people are out to use her or hurt her or are lying to her? Am I really expected to believe that she is pampered and doesn’t have, at the very least, PTSD from seeing her mother murdered and her brother join the very people who did it, let alone everything else that would have followed over those years?

Really?

Luna didn’t have a pampered life. She suffered abuse. Longterm emotional abuse, likely sporadic physical abuse until she learned to play along well enough to escape such punishments, and almost certainly gaslighting (again: religious leader being held captive by an aggressively atheist nation that wants to kill the pantheon this religious leader communes with).

Luna would have learned to navigate the canonically cutthroat politics of Niflheim while being at best an outsider and at worst a target because of her beliefs, her nationality, and her loyalties to the Lucians (nobody was surprised when Luna went on the run. Nobody. Her continued devotion and loyalty to the Lucians -Niflheim’s enemy- was absolutely a well known factor). She would have learned to pick truth from lie and when to pretend she hadn’t noticed in order to survive. She would have lived twelve years knowing that any mistakes or misplaced moments of trust would be paid for in either her suffering of the suffering of the people close to her like her servants, or just the citizens of Tenebrae in general.

And none of this is taking into account her Oracle training, which the book does not elaborate on but repeatedly states was hard and grueling and she completed it years earlier than any Oracle in history.

There are a lot of words I would use to describe Luna, but pampered and naive are not among them.

…

2. Luna is oblivious to how people outside her rich circles live and has never considered being anything else but an Oracle until Sol specifically points it out.

The book states that she mostly travels in procession (ie, with tons of servants to serve her every need and bodyguards to keep the masses at bay) so clearly she can’t go anywhere too dangerous, otherwise her servants wouldn’t be able to come. Right? Oh boy where do I start with this.

I know! Let’s start with the fact that Luna canonically maintains the blessings on Havens! You know those things. They’re your only safe place to camp at night and they can be found in all sorts of nifty locations like the middle of the wilderness where cars can’t go, chocobos won’t go, packs of wild animals will literally leap out of the bushes to eat you (Voretooth packs can get up to twelve or more members all trying to eat you at once, fun fact), and poor choice in clothes will lead to broken ankles at best? The ones that can be found in the depths of locations so dangerous that even the Hunters are leary of going inside and are actively forbidden from approaching unless they are a very high rank?

Off the top of my head some of the Havens that come to mind is the one in the middle of Malmalam thicket, the top of an active volcano, multiple spots in the middle of the voretooth and coeurl infested desert, two up in Vesperpool aka the home of all demon crocodiles and flocks of cockatrice that are bigger than the average car and can literally turn you into stone if you aren’t careful.

Yeah those places. She maintains those. Depending on how often Havens need to be maintained and if the weather/nature shortens that time then she might also have to periodically enter the dungeons Noctis explores in game that also have Havens hidden inside where it is always dark all the time and infested with daemons.

The book also states that the sick (who are highly infectious and not supposed to be touched by people who can’t heal the scourge and in the later stages of sickness become extremely violent and prone to biting in order to infect other people) are … brought to her…

By whom? Exactly?

Moving on from that giant and obvious plot hole to the “never seen or considered other lifestyles” bit: Luna has traveled literally all over the world. In her duties of healing the otherwise incurable she has gone all over Niflheim, Tenebrae, and Lucis. She has walked through the streets of cities filled with lights and glamor and stood on the dirt roads of towns so small they have to go to the next town an hour or more away to buy groceries or check their mailbox and who’s royal hotel suite is just a caravan with a new coat of paint and “welcome Oracle!” sign. Luna’s work is to cure the Starscourge, which is a disease that I can almost promise the rich don’t get. Because the rich and fancy do not risk their lives by going into daemon territory (Prompto, a middle class Insomnian, didn’t even know what wild animals would be like, you expect the rich and famous to be any better?).

The vast majority of Luna’s patients would be people like Dave the Hunter, or Sania the scientist who wades into the wilds. The truck drivers and the farmers and the electricians risking their lives to repair power lines in the middle of nowhere. She wouldn’t be going to cities except to talk to the refugees who fled there from the outside and thus picked up the Scourge. Her only two social circles would be Niflheim’s cutthroat nobility and the “unwashed masses” who come to her for healing. Guess which ones she’ll be more invested in getting to know on a personal/friendly basis and interacting with.

Of course Luna has interacted with and understands “common folk”. Luna is a caregiver, not just physically, but emotionally. She is beloved by the people because she is kind. That means she talks to them. More importantly, she listens. She has held the hands of the farmer as he begs her to heal him, because the harvest season is so close, and if he can’t work, if he dies, then what will become of his wife or the people his farm feeds? She has embraced the sobbing refugee mother as the other breaks down in gratitude for a child who’s skin is a healthy shade and who’s veins no longer bulge a sickly purple. She has met people who are not rich, but who are content. Who have lives that do not hinge on the razor thin dance of staying true to self and not exposing weakness to those who want to eat her alive. Who can laugh with their neighbors and kiss that nice boy down the street just for the fun of it, who can defy curfew to dance in the rain with the person they love and risk, at most, a lecture and a weekend grounding.

And no, they aren’t rich, no, they aren’t influential or powerful, but they are peaceful. They are happy.

Am I really expected to believe that Luna has not looked on these people’s lives from afar, listened to their rambles as they try to distract themselves from the sickness she is drawing from their veins, and not yearned to be the same? That she hasn’t thought over and over again about running away and being free from her gilded cage? That she doesn’t know anything about the lives of the people she heals even as she walks down their streets and steps into their houses so she can heal those who are too sick or too violent to be safely taken out of their room? That she has never thought about what life could be like if she wasn’t an Oracle as she watches the landscape roll by and walks through the wilderness to find the lonely farmsteads that the townsfolk tell her has sick children that cannot be let out of the shed for fear they will bite?

Setting all of that to one side, what human hasn’t thought of being someone else? What person on this planet, hasn’t looked at another person’s life that is so very different from their own and gone “huh, I wonder what that would be like” even if only for a moment before moving on and forgetting about it? Humans are creatures that dream by nature, that are curious by nature. To assume that Luna is not just because she gets to have the fancy dresses and servants is stupid.

…

3a: Luna is unable to make her own decisions and is only the dutiful Oracle because she doesn’t know any better and needs a “wiser” rebellious character to “open her eyes”.

Okay buckle up. I have tried to suppress the salt until now but over these last two points I don’t care. I will be salty. I will be sarcastic. I will be mean. I will reference Real World faiths (tho I’ll try to keep that to a minimum).

Both 3a and 3b are actually systemic issues in storytelling (particularly noticeable in movies/shows but maybe that’s because I’m pretty lucky with my book choices) that I despise with a passion. Specifically 3a relates to the chronic issue writers seem to have with characters not being allowed to be happy with their role in life. There’s this persistent thought, this narrative push, that if a character is following in the footsteps of their family, is entering the “traditional” profession that their parents (or grandparents, or entire generations of predecessors) have been in before them then they must be unhappy with their lot in life. That this is clearly the character being “repressed” and that if they are content then they are either a bad guy (see: every antagonist from a proud military family or every ruler who thinks they are better than everyone because of bloodline ever) or they are just blind to their own unhappiness.

Now, the basic idea of “character discovers they are unhappy in current role and seeks a new one” can actually be done really well. But those stories that do it well have a lot of internal conflict, a lot of self-reflection and searching and choosing to take a new path after really giving it some thought. Maybe they have help along the way, or encouragement, or another character to show that it’s possible by example and that’s okay.

What is not okay is infantilizing a strong, intelligent character by saying “oh it just never occurred to them until they are told that they are unhappy by this much more worldly wise character and then they went and did it”. That is not okay. It not only trivializes the efforts of every real person who has proudly followed in a parent’s footsteps to become something (a doctor, a missionary, a soldier, an actor, even an electrician, pick a life goal and I promise someone has been inspired to do that by their parent being one before them) but it also takes an otherwise strong, dedicated character and implies that they are too stupid to think for themselves or have any free will until the plot and a Shinier Character demands it.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret is an Oracle, as her mother was before her, and her mother before her, and all the way back two thousand years to the very first Oracle we see in canon. Possibly back even farther, depending on if any of Aera’s ancestors were Oracles too. That isn’t a suffocating tradition, that is a heritage, that is a culture, that is a necessary, life-saving service that canon proves literally kept the world from falling into eternal darkness (Luna was the last Oracle, the day after she dies is literally the last time we players see sunlight until the end of the game when Noctis dies to restore it). Luna is not stupid or repressed for following in those footsteps, she is breathtakingly strong for shouldering her heritage as the Last Oracle with pride even when the forces controlling every other aspect of her life want her to be ashamed of it and give it up.

The empire that took over her home when she was twelve are actively anti-magic and anti-Astral. Luna is someone who speaks to the Astrals and is born with a magic that can heal the very sickness they want to weaponize. They couldn’t outright forbid her from training to be the next Oracle because that would cause the people to riot, but they could and absolutely would try to make her give up in any way they could. They would have insulted her, demeaned her, hurt her, and imprisoned her. They wouldn’t have wanted a “real” Oracle, they would have wanted a puppet who said pretty promises and then did nothing to stop them.

It would have been so easy for Luna to go down the same path her brother did. To give in to the empire and it’s propaganda that she would have been forced to listen to every single day of her life for twelve whole years. It would have made her life so much easier to be a puppet Oracle who didn’t have to walk miles through the wilderness to maintain Havens, or defy the empire by maintaining loyalty to Lucis, or leave her manor home to heal the sick that could not come to her themselves. As a puppet Oracle she could have stayed in the Manor and only treated cases that could reach her doors and were vetted by the empire. She could have eaten the finest foods and worn the best dresses and never had to worry about a pack of hungry Voretooths or a rogue Behemoth tearing her apart. Most of all, Niflheim wouldn’t have been nearly as oppressive or violent. They would have gladly given her the illusion of freedom and control as long as she played along rather than been fully willing and prepared to run into the jungle with a suitcase just to escape as seen in the movie.

Luna was not blindly fitting into a mold and she was not and has never been incapable of making a decision. The fact that she shows up in canon as a strong, dedicated woman who is in control of her emotions and not afraid to face down a giant sea monster with the power to summon tidal waves with just her words and a glorified pointy stick proves that. The idea that she needs a “wiser” character to come alongside her and “free her” from her own duties is not only stupid, it undermines one of the key things that makes Luna such a strong character despite her relative lack of screentime.

Furthermore, canonically, one of Luna’s main reasons for sticking with her duty as Oracle isn’t because it’s tradition, it’s because of what Niflheim did. In the Kingsglaive movie, when Nyx Ulric is getting angry at Luna for doing really reckless, life-threatening things, she tells him quote:

“I do not fear death. What I fear is doing nothing and losing everything.”

That’s not a woman who is blindly following a path laid out for her. That is a woman who is desperately, furiously fighting against the people who killed her mother in front of her the best way she can: by being the Oracle they cannot stand for her to be.

But sure. Luna is only the Oracle because she doesn’t know better and it never occurred to her to be anything else until some jaded kid with a shotgun made a snide comment about it.

3b: Luna’s faith is a character flaw that has only survived this long because it wasn’t challenged by a worldly wise character who knows better.

Not going to lie but words cannot express how much I hate this trope. This is another thing that shows up a lot in television/movies but also in books too, and that is that a character is not allowed to have a faith in something/religion unless they are 1. Foolish, 2. Brainwashed/tricked into it, 3. A crazy fanatic, or 4. It’s a character flaw they have to overcome by becoming more jaded and atheist and hateful.

Because … that’s not how it works. There are- millions (billions) of people all over the real world who are intelligent, well educated, thoughtful, kind, and religious. And no I’m not just talking about Christianity (tho I am Christian so you can see why this trope grinds my gears so hard). There’s Hinduism, there’s Islam, there’s Buddhism, there’s Judaism, there’s so many faiths and belief systems okay. And no we don’t tend to play well with each other or accept the validity of the others but that doesn’t mean we’re fanatics or brainwashed or stupid. And no we really don’t appreciate it when media introduces a character who follows a religion (even fictional ones!) only to make them an antagonist or rip it away from them in the name of “improving their character”. Just like every other cultural group ever who really doesn’t like their heritage and culture being used as a butt of jokes or is turned into a caricature or used as the basis for the antagonist being Evil™.

But no. We can’t possibly have a character who’s faith makes them strong or gives them comfort in times of hardship unless they are deluded. We can’t possibly have a character who is both intelligent and faithful. We can’t possibly show a character who is breathtakingly courageous and selfless as well as religious unless we point at their faith and go oh look a horrible character flaw to overcome by having non-believer characters open their eyes via sarcastic commentary.

And look. Look. I am well aware that the plot of Dawn of the Future has Bahamut as the Bad Guy™. I am fully aware of that. But if you want to be purely honest and technical, that doesn’t invalidate Luna’s faith because (spoilers) the other Astrals fight Bahamut to save the world. They hear her cries and the come to fight on behalf of Lucis and Noctis and all of Eos and they kill Bahamut even when that ensures their own destruction.

But we’re not actually here to talk about whether the Astrals deserve Luna’s faith in them, we’re here to talk about why insisting Luna’s faith is, by nature of being a faith, treated like a flaw and why it is treated like something so weak it only survived to this point because Luna didn’t face anything “bad” enough to “snap her out of it”.

Spoiler alert, it’s not a flaw and it’s not weak.

Going back to something I have mentioned several times already: Niflheim is an empire run by people who actively want to kill the very beings most of the planetary population worships. The very same people in charge of Luna’s life for twelve years, starting from when she was twelve and very emotionally vulnerable and traumatized, hate the Astrals. I repeat: They hate the Astrals. They have devised weapons to try (and spectacularly fail) to kill them. Half their continent is a winter nightmare-land because they tried to kill Shiva the Glacian and she went “haha, nice try, lemme leave a fake corpse here that constantly pumps out freezing temperatures and blizzards”.

Am I seriously, honestly, supposed to believe that these people didn’t try to tear down her faith at every single opportunity? That Ravus wouldn’t have tried to bully and cajole and harass her into abandoning her faith because he knew that her faith was what kept her walking her chosen path as Oracle and that said path was destined to kill her? Am I seriously supposed to believe that Luna didn’t spend those twelve years having to sit there and bite her tongue to keep from raging at these cutthroat nobles as they gloated and sneered and spat on the names of the Astrals who gave Luna the very magic she uses to heal those in need?

Luna never needed Sol to come along and say “what have the Astrals ever done for you?” because I promise that she’s heard some variation of that exact phrase from everyone in her life. From her own brother to the Emperor himself she has heard some form of this question, this taunt. In the Kingsglaive movie, General Glauca even says something to the order of, “To what god do you pray? The gods do not listen.” Right before he kidnaps her.

Luna’s faith isn’t something blind, and it is not a flaw. It is a cornerstone of her character. Luna’s faith is a bloody, stubborn, tenacious thing that she has nurtured and shored up and been steadied by through twelve years of emotional abuse and physical imprisonment. Luna’s faith is an unshakeable thing that can only come from long nights spent crying into the silent dark of the room and asking “is this real? Am I right? Should I give up? This hurts so much, what do I do?” and finding the answer to be “yes this is real. Yes I am right. No, I won’t give up even though it kills me. Yes it hurts, but what I believe in is stronger than this pain.”

Faith is not optimism and it is not fanaticism. Optimism can be broken by hardship and fanaticism has no room for selfless kindness or acceptance of other people not being as devoted as they are. Faith is personal. Faith is a bedrock, and maybe it’s a bedrock that makes no sense to people on the outside, but it is a bedrock and it can make mountains move.

Just as Luna proves when she runs rings around an Empire to win the respect and cooperation of Titan and of Ramuh, to stand amid the rain and tell an enraged TideMother that “it is in mercy that men offer praise, and in shedding grace that the gods solicit worship” and not flinch because she knows she is right.

Luna’s faith is a fierce, scarred thing that has taken every kind of suppression and propaganda and poison the empire could throw at it and kept on going.

Furthermore. Luna’s faith is treated by Sol as something empty. Because when did the Astrals ever help her or comfort her or save her?

I can answer that. They helped her when they gave her Umbra and Pryna, who kept her company through her life and gave her a way to talk to Noctis. A way to reach out to a person who was not either imperial, warped by imperial propaganda, or too afraid to speak out against the empire for fear of dying. They comforted her when Gentiana became a second mother for Luna after the death of Queen Sylva. A physical shoulder to cry on, a sounding board to bounce fears off of, a well of advice when it was asked of her, a rock to retreat to when Ravus turned away from her and the empire continued to control as much of her life as they could.

Gentiana, who is really Shiva in disguise, has been with Luna since she was a small child.

One of the Astrals themselves has been with Luna for almost her entire life. Has guided her, has comforted her, has led her to safety as she fled Insomnia’s ruins.

Shiva had no reason to do that. The Oracles have done their duty since the time of Aera without her help or company. Shiva didn’t have to stay. She didn’t have to linger and offer comfort and become Luna’s friend. She didn’t have to listen to the last words of a scared young woman who wanted only to see her fiancé one last time and promise to carry them to Noctis in the event of her death. Shiva didn’t have to cry on behalf of Luna. Shiva didn’t have to help Luna remember what it was like to be an ordinary woman (“Yet others need not hide their grief. Is she [Luna] so different from them?”), and in fact, if Shiva had played up to most of the stereotypes, she would have done the opposite and done her hardest to suppress any part of Luna’s personality that wasn’t her Oracle duties.

But she did. Shiva was there, and she remembered. Shiva loved and we as a fandom may yell at the Astrals a lot for not doing more to take care of the Starscourge, but of all of them Shiva gave the most because she came down and she lived, and walked, and loved this Oracle, this scared child, this frightened, weary woman who couldn’t even turn to her own family for comfort. Shiva’s husband Ifrit was betrayed by humankind and yet Shiva still defended them, she kills Ifrit to protect the man (the king) that Luna loved.

And at the end of the game, in those final moments outside the Citadel, when it’s just Noctis and his Retinue against all of Ardyn’s armies of daemons, when Luna calls out to these Astrals whom she has remained faithful to her entire life, even unto her death…

They answer.

Every. Last. Astral. Who is not corrupted like Ifrit, comes down at her prayer and fights. Even Leviathan who’s only voiced lines are screaming wrath against the humanity that forgot her, even Bahamut who otherwise remains aloof in his plane of magic beyond the concerns of the mortal world. Luna calls, and they answer her.

“What have the Astrals ever done for her” indeed.

Luna’s faith is a driving force of her character, it is irrevocably intertwined with her duty, with her choices, with her desire to help people and save the world even if it costs her own life, and in the end her faith is rewarded. Not in the way we want for her, because we love the ultimate happy endings where everyone lives and nobody dies. But Final Fantasy XV was never a story about happy endings. It was a story about coming of age, and tragedy, and sacrifice. Of holding onto hope against all opposition, and of having faith that someday the dawn will return, even if bringing about that dawn requires personal sacrifice.

…

Okay this is over 5k words, I’m tired, and I’m extremely salty so I can’t really figure out how to wrap this up but there we go, my salty personal rant about why I think Dawn of the Future messed up some really critical parts of Luna’s characterization and why it’s Really Bad that they messed up those specific things.

Also I kinda despise them making Bahamut the bad guy in DotF because yes he’s a jerk and yes he really could have done the whole Prophecy thing a ton better, but in the original FFXV one of the things that made the game so heartbreakingly tragic to me is that most of the characters involved weren’t pure evil. They could be greedy, and flawed, and crazy, but in the end the source of the problem was too big to pin on one character.

Do you pin the entire thing on the god of war for his mistakes in trying to bring about peace, or the god of fire for trying to destroy humanity and no longer being there to do his job and purify the plague? Do you blame the Astrals for their hubris or humanity for theirs, because Ifrit loved humanity until they betrayed him so deeply he went mad? Do you hate Ardyn for causing the Long Night or pity him for being a victim of Somnus’s greed? Can you blame Somnus for everything even though the Scourge was going on long before him and kept spreading long after he sealed Ardyn away? The whole thing is a tragedy because at this point it’s a problem too big to fix without someone paying a price too heavy and we hate that because the characters who pay that price are the ones we grow to love over the game.

But that is an entirely different rant for an entirely different day when I am not so tired and my hands no longer hurt from writing this much in one sitting. Thank you and good night.

[rina-writes]

The Absolute Worst

Summary: You accompany your brother, a newly famous YouTuber, to the Dolans house for a collab.  Through a series of misunderstandings, you determine that Ethan Dolan is the worst human being in the world. Luckily, the feelings are mutual. Much to your chagrin, because of a misstep on your part, you are now quarantining with Dolans for 14 days. Your only hope is to make it through the tension without it all blowing up in your face.

Warnings: Angsty in the beginning, then smut and then fluff towards the end. (Just in case this isn’t clear...single!Ethan)

You touched your face with disbelief as you stared up at Ethan Dolan’s smug face.  You couldn’t believe that you had forgotten to put on your mask, and of all times now? Your face turned red hot as your hand dipped into your pocket to pull out the triple layered fabric mask. You slipped it behind each ear sheepishly, unable to meet Ethan’s eyes.

“What was that about my brother and I being socially irresponsible?” Ethan asked you, folding his arms. “I believe you went as far to say that we are terrible role models for our incredibly young fanbase.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know how he was staring at you.  Besides glaring at him all day, you had followed the twins for a couple years.  Ethan seemed to be a sweet guy, with his boyish look of large hazel eyes, tousled dark brown hair and rosy red cheeks.  The behavior you saw today revealed him to be a complete douche bag.

For starters, when you first arrived with your brother, the boys were too busy to greet you.  Something was so important on their phones that they could not tear themselves away.  You and your brother watched them awkwardly in silence, wondering what to do.  It was only when you cleared your throat did Grayson look up and introduce himself.  He had to yell Ethan’s name and slap him on the shoulder to get Ethan to pay attention.

The boys gave you and your brother a tour of their estate, and Ethan lingered around his car to brag about it.  As he drowned on and on about his Tesla, you looked at your brother with a worried expression.  Your brother was younger than you, and quite impressionable.  His most recent video recently gained popularity earning him a check from YouTube with more zeroes than anyone in your family had seen in their lifetime.  Your entire family respected that it was your brother’s money, but everyone was praying he didn’t do anything foolish with it.  Given the fact your brother could not even drive without a licensed driver accompanying him, you didn’t like the starry look in your brother’s eyes when Ethan bragged about the car.  Your heart almost dropped to your stomach when your brother agreed and said, “I’m definitely buying a Tesla.”

“Y/b/n,” You said in a warning tone. “You should really focus on getting a place to live...”

“Lay off, Y/n.” Your brother whispered to you, harshly.

You were a bit taken aback. Your brother never spoke to you like that...at least not in public.  You had a fairly good relationship, and he knew you meant well.  You instantly blamed it on the fact he was trying to look cool in front of Ethan.  

“If you need a place to live,” Grayson smiled, walking over to a navy blue wrapped van.  “How about this nice van?”

You blinked slowly.  Why on Earth would your teenage brother want a van?

“Is this the van from your cross country trip?!” Your brother yelled, running over to it.

“Oh hell no...” You said a little too loudly.  The last thing you wanted was for your fanboy brother to get duped into buying a lemon. You put your hands on your hips. “And how much is this van, Mr. Dolan?”

Grayson’s eyebrows went up at the accusatory tone, and you saw Ethan’s shoulders square up behind his brother.  You didn’t back down. Sure, they were large muscular dudes, but you weren’t a coward. At least...not when it came to your younger brother.

“It depends on how much you want to offer...” Grayson said, recovering from his shock with a soft smile.

“How much did you buy it for?” You asked, cutting off your brother before he could jump in.

“$75,000...” Ethan said, folding his arms as he walked forward. “But we’re selling it for 74, plus $100 since Grayson took the time to build it up nicely.”

You gulped.  You glanced at your brother who had fallen silent.  That was more than what was in his bank account at the moment.  You definitely couldn’t afford that.

“It’s less than the Tesla...” Grayson offered with a soft laugh.

You watched as your brother’s eyes widened, followed by the slump of his shoulders.  You sighed.  Great, now your brother felt like a loser because he couldn’t afford these fancy cars.

“If you’re done flaunting, it would be nice to start the video.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Y/n...” Your brother frowned. “Don’t be rude.”

Your jaw dropped behind your mask as you looked at your brother with shock.  You were being rude? They were the ones making your brother feel inferior!

“No, Miss Y/l/n is right.” Ethan said, walking past you to the tiny shed where they were going to film the video. “We should get this show on the road.”

You knew he was making fun of you for calling Grayson Mr. Dolan, but you didn’t care. The faster you could get out of this house, the better.

Just as you were getting started filming, Ethan got a call.  He left to answer it, but then ran back in with haste.  

“Gray, we gotta go! The interview has been moved up to this afternoon.” Ethan announced.

“Wait, what?” Grayson asked, looking at his watch.  “What time?”

“4pm.” Ethan answered.

“Damn...” Grayson stood up. “We need to leave now if we’re gonna make it.  Sorry, man.  Can we take a rain check?” Grayson looked at your brother sumpathetically.

Your brother nodded, disappointed, but he clearly understood.  You, however, did not.

“How do they move up an interview last minute?” You asked.

Ethan frowned. “It was a mistake made by my assistant.  She mixed up the dates.”

“I thought you said it was moved up?” You questioned.

“I didn’t think I needed to give the gory details.” Ethan groaned.  “Honestly, I don’t have time for this.”

“Well, sorry!” You put your hands up in defense.  “Excuse the fact that we don’t actually live around here and had to taken an Uber 2 hours to get here. The least you could do was make our time worth it.  But no, go to your interview.”

“Y/n...” Your brother whined.  “...it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” You argued, looking at your brother.  You could feel your face soften when you saw the embarrassment in his eyes.  You felt like your mother humiliating him in front of his classmates.

“Sorry...I’m not myself today.” You said, more to the boys than to your brother.  “Let’s reschedule.”

“No...” Ethan said, clearly a mix of annoyed and amused, “Come with us to the interview and we will finish filming after.  It’s not like we need daylight or anything. Does that work for you, Miss Y/l/n?”

You looked at your brother who nodded, so you nodded as well.

You rode in the Tesla to the studio where the interview was taking place.  Your brother was texting you and you did your best to not let your annoyance show on your face.

Y/b/n: Can you stop being so mean? What’s up with you??

Y/n: ME???? I’m not the one treating people like second class citizens. They are such jerks.

Y/b/n: Why because they have nice cars? Because they have busy schedules?

Y/n: Because they are PHONY. How do ignore to people sitting right in front of you? How do you claim to be down to Earth and sell a teenager a $74k van?

Y/b/n: Can you just stop? You’re blowing it out of proportion.

You sat back in the seat with pursued lips as you looked out the window.  Your brother did the same, looking the other way.  You knew the conversation was over for awhile.

You watched from the sidelines as the twins did their interview, scoffing every now and then.  You would occasionally see Ethan looking at you and you did nothing to hide your disdain. He didn’t say anything about it until your drove back to the house.  Now around 7pm, Grayson offered to pick up food for you all to eat. Your brother volunteered to go with him and before you knew what was happening, you were left alone with Ethan Dolan in his kitchen.

“What was so funny during the interview?” Ethan asked, his eyes dark and his jaw set.  His hands were on the counter top supporting his weight as he looked at you. His blue medical mask was tucked a bit under his nose, adding emphasis to the glare in his eyes.

“I just couldn’t get over how easily you lie.” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh.

“Oh?” Ethan asked, quirking a brow. “When did I lie?”

“Well, for one thing, they complimented you on your manners, but little did they know how poorly you treated your guests today.” Your eyes narrowed.

“Huh, okay.” Ethan nodded slowly, his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. “But that’s a matter of opinion, no?”

“I don’t think...” Your voice faltered as you realized it really was. But who was he to tell someone that they should not feel upset about how he treated them?

“Please, continue.” Ethan folded his arms on the counter, lifting one up to rest his cheek on his palm.  “This is fun.”

‘What a condescending prick.’ You thought.

“Fine.” You humored him. “How about the fact that you claimed to be observing the covid procedures, but the first time I saw you whip on a mask today was right before we walked in to the studio. Not to mention the countless times we see you online around people without a mask.”

“I stood six feet apart from you until we were in the car.” Ethan said, defensively. 

“Sure, fine.” You agreed. “But what about the second point? You should take responsibility to at least quarantine with people if you are going to be regularly collaborating.”

“Am I supposed to quarantine with every single person I am less than six feet away from without a mask?” Ethan asked with a smirk.

“Yes!” You said, incredulously. “Have you been ignoring the news?”

“So, are you saying that you do?” Ethan asked. “Little miss perfect?”

You rose your head proudly. “Yes, I do.” 

When Ethan didn’t say anything you stood up taller and continued. “I can’t tell you how to treat others, but I think you are being socially irresponsible to not at least adhere to the health rules set by the state of California.  Most of your fanbase is incredibly young and you are setting a poor example for them.”

“I see.” Ethan leaned over the counter to touch your hand. “This is about 3 feet.”

He looked up at your through his long lashes with a bright, mischievous grin. “You, young lady, have forgotten to put on your mask.  What does that make of you?”

Which  leads us to where we first started. As you recalled the fact that had put your mask in your pocket when you guzzled water from your water bottle, you suddenly realized in the confusion of ordering dinner, you forgot to put it back on. Ethan who was now standing on the same side of the counter as you from six feet away, stood there mockingly.

“What was that about my brother and I being socially irresponsible?” Ethan asked you, folding his arms. “I believe you went as far to say that we are terrible role models for our incredibly young fanbase.”

“Ethan...” You started, as you put on your mask.

“Oh, I don’t get a Mr. Dolan?” Ethan tsked. “How rude.”

Your stomach turned.  You wanted to vomit. The thought of apologizing to Ethan Dolan revolted you. You met his eyes, putting on a false air of confidence.

“I was wrong. While I try to consistently follow the rules, even I can make mistakes.” You didn’t say sorry, but you hoped it would be counted as an apology nonetheless.

“So,” Ethan smirked walking a step closer. “By your rules, and the rules of the state of California, doesn’t that mean that we should quarantine together?”

You felt face flush and your eyes go wide.  You stammered your reply. “Of course not! I have to self-isolate myself, but why on Earth do we have to do it together?”

“Am I supposed to believe you can self-isolate at home?” Ethan asked.

You looked down.  You couldn’t.  You and your brother were currently staying with a few friends while you tried to find a place of his own. It would be, to use your own words, socially irresponsible, to go back to a friend’s place without taking the proper safety precautions.

“Grayson and I are actually staying at an Airbnb.  As you can see, our house is currently under construction” Ethan gestured to the tarp on some of the furniture. “We have a spare guest room for you and your brother. You can stay there, we can film a few videos with your brother, and you can make sure everyone is safe.”

“I--” 

Before you could respond, the door opened.  Grayson and your brother walked in with a feast of food for you all to share.  They instantly recognized the tension between you two and Grayson looked to Ethan for an explanation.  With the largest, phoniest smile you had ever seen, Ethan declared, “Y/n and Y/b/n will be staying with us!”

“What?” Your brother and Grayson asked in unison.

“I’ll explain .” You told your brother as you walked over to him.  You started to push him toward the front of the house to speak to him privately. You turned around to look at Ethan and said,

“We will not be imposing on you for free.” You said, sternly. “We can talk finances after I talk to my brother.”

It was your fifth day staying with the Dolans and it felt like an eternity.  You decided on paying $500 for your two week stay, far cheaper than any place in California would request for two people.  To make up for it, you offered to do some of the cooking and most of the cleaning. Since you were able to work online, you would use your lunch break and after work to prep the meals.  

Food was the only thing you and Ethan could agree on.  He would compliment your meals, as he could only really make breakfast.  You were grateful for the times he would present you with pancakes while you worked. 

Outside of food, you bickered all the time.  You didn’t like his attitude, his unsolicited advice, and cocky smirk. He apparently didn’t like your temper and your over-protectiveness of your brother that caused you to butt into conversations that did not concern you.  On the other hand, Grayson and your brother got along quite well.  They frequently worked out together and went surfing together.  It was the most happy you had seen your brother since he moved to LA.  You still wanted to leave the Dolans, but you hoped that Grayson would still be a good friend to your brother after you both had left their residence.

After all, you had no intentions of staying in Los Angeles forever.  Unlike your brother, there was nothing drawing you to the city.  It was one of the reasons you were being so harsh on your brother.  If he was going to be out here alone, he needed to be taught how to spot those who had his best interest at heart.  There was no doubt in your mind that Ethan Dolan could not care less about anyone but himself and his brother.  He was the absolute worst.

It was Saturday and thus your brother and Grayson went to surf.  You were surprised when you emerged in the kitchen to see Ethan cooking pancakes.  You assumed you were in the house alone.

“Why aren’t you surfing with them?” You asked, standing in the doorway.

“Yes, good morning Miss Y/l/n. I am doing well, thank you for asking.” Ethan remarked, not looking up from the frying pan he was coating with coconut oil.  “For your information, I don’t like surfing.”

“Oh.” You shrugged, opening the fridge.  As you pulled out the water bottle you had chilling overnight, you felt Ethan’s eyes on you.  

You became incredibly aware that you were wearing a night set that was in the luggage your friend dropped off the first night of your stay.  Since you thought you were alone you didn’t bother to change, but now you felt embarrassed.  It was one of those cartoon print night sets with a tank top and matching shorts.  The top was quite large so it covered the top half of the shorts, but the shorts were small and didn’t cover much of your behind.  It looked a bit ridiculous, but it was surprisingly comfortable.

“Cute set.” Ethan commented.

You turned to look at him, expecting to see some kind of tease in his eyes, but you didn’t. He was staring at you almost blankly, as if he was waiting for your reaction.

“Thanks.” You said, sipping your water bottle. 

Ethan placed a small pancake on a plate and used the fork on the side to cut it. He blew on it gently, bringing your attention to his full, pale pink lips.  He walked over to you and held out the fork.

“Tell me what you think, new recipe.” He asked, cupping the fork as he brought it to you.

You removed the bottle from your mouth and opened your mouth to receive the pancake.  Ethan’s hand rested on your chin and you blushed. You chewed slowly and put a thumbs up of approval.  You covered your mouth before saying,

“It’s really good. Like you don’t need syrup or anything.” You reviewed.

Ethan’s eyes lit up and for a second, you saw the YouTuber you witnessed on the internet.  He didn’t seem like the monster you had been arguing with the last few days.

“I”m glad you like it.” Ethan grinned. “You inspired me to try new things with your unique recipes.”

“Uh thanks...” You said, the right side of your body leaning on the counter.

You watched him cook in silence, before realizing you could help by doing the dishes in sink.  The sounds of pancakes cooking and the water hitting the dishes was the only thing that filled the room before Ethan broke the silence.

“Pancakes are done. Let’s eat ‘em while they’re hot.” Ethan suggested.

You turned off the water and dried your hands as Ethan put the plates on the table.  You sat across from each other and began to eat. You usually didn’t eat together, as you were both usually working while eating. You noticed Ethan wincing without touching his food and you looked up.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“You chew really loudly.” Ethan said, annoyed. “I hate the sound of chewing.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You asked. “How am I supposed to eat without chewing?”

“You could chew less obnoxiously.” Ethan suggested.

“Or maybe you can stop being a little bitch and stop whining about stupid stuff.” You stabbed a piece of pancake and chewed it loudly.

“Real mature.” Ethan said, covering his ears backing away from the table. 

You didn’t care.  You followed him, chewing as loudly as you could, even into the living room. When you didn’t have any more left to chew, you continued to smack your lips.

“God, you’re so f*cking annoying.” Ethan yelled.

“I’m annoying?!” You repeated. “HA! You, Ethan Dolan, the most spoiled, self-righteous, arrogant person I have ever met.  You are the absolute worst.”

You slammed your finger into his chest as you spoke.  Ethan seized your hand quickly and your eyes widened.

“Why don’t you call me Mr. Dolan?” Ethan asked, a darkness in his voice. 

“Because you don’t deserve my respect.” You said, you eyes wide with indignation.

Ethan chuckled. “Do you have a complex about me or something?” His grasp on your hand slipped to your wrist. “Cause it seems like you just want to f*ck me sometimes.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You scoffed, pulling your hand from him.

“Oh? Let’s find out.” Ethan said, cockily. Ethan leaned in, caressing your cheek gently making you freeze.  You could feel your heart racing as your mind went back to how soft his lips looked. Your eyes danced upward to look at the ceiling. Your body seemed to move on it’s own toward him and you realized, you kinda did want to kiss him and punch him in the face at the same time.  You resigned to the former and your eyes fluttered close.  You waited, and nothing happened.  You opened your eyes to see Ethan staring at you with a smug smirk.

“Hm, told ya.” Ethan said, backing up.

Tears stung your eyes with humiliation, and you bit down on your lower lip. “You’re such a f*cking asshole. I’ll say it again, you are the worst person on this whole planet. I can’t stand you.” 

You turned to run back to your room.  You were going to leave this place even if you had to live a tent for the next nine days.

Ethan lurched forward and grabbed you. Turning you in his arms, he cupped your face and kiss you deeply.  You gripped his shoulders as his tongue slid expertly into your mouth and began to play with yours. As much as you wanted to resist, it felt really good.  It was like something inside of you was put to rest and another part of you was coming alive. When your hands dropped from his shoulders, Ethan’s own hands went down to your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss, letting your tongue explore his mouth.  Your tongues fought for dominance, but for once you didn’t care who won. Ethan’s hands gripped your backside and you let out a soft moan. You felt Ethan’s body tense and he suddenly scooped you up.

“Jump,” He commanded, breaking the kiss to do so.

You were still in a daze, as you stood on your tiptoes and your pelvis pressed into his.

Ethan lifted his hand to give your butt a smack. “Jump.”

You did and he carried you to the couch. He tossed you on top of it, admiring you from above.  His hand reached out to grab one of your breasts, confirming his suspicion that you were not wearing a bra. You arched your back toward and he smirked at you.

“Does this mean you want me?” He asked, grinding his hips into yours. 

“I can tell how much you want me.” You smirked back at him as his ever growing bulge pressed into your hips.

“I’m going to make you say my name...scream my name.” Ethan warned, slipping his hands under shirt to cup your breasts. “Just tell me you want it.”

“I’m not going to beg for it.” You arched you back as his thumbs circles your nipples, hardening them with ease.

He rested his head in the crook of your neck, still teasing your nipples and grinding into your hips. “God, I just need you to say it. I need you to say, you want me to f*ck you.”

There was something arousing about hearing him sound so needy yet so dominant in your ear that you succumbed.

“Please f*ck me, Mr. Ethan Dolan.” You practically moaned.

Ethan gave your neck a sloppy kiss, followed by a light suck earning a free sighs of pleasure from you.  You tugged on his tank top and he leaned back to pull it off.  He also took the liberty of raising your shirt to reveal the breasts he had slowly been making the acquaintance. 

“God, these are beautiful.” He remarked making your blush. “Shame they belong to such a troublesome woman.”

“Hey--” You started to protest, but soon one of your nipples was between his lips and getting kitten licks from his tongue. You let out a loud moan as put your hand on the back of his head to hold him down.  One of his hands was holding your back up while the other slipped past the crotch of your pants to tease your slit through your underwear. 

You gasped and Ethan took the opportunity to kiss you again.  This kiss was even hungrier than the first, his tongue desperate to taste every bit of you.  Meanwhile, his middle finger was doing a great job of adding the right amount of friction to arouse you. Ethan smiled softly as he felt the dampness on his finger, taking it as an invitation to rub your folds without a a barrier. 

“Ah, Ethan...” You moaned, as he slipped his middle finger inside of you while letting his thumb play with clit.

His mouth went to your other breast to give it the same attention as the previous one.  His other hand tweaking the already hardened nipple to keep it aroused.  Ethan relished your pleasure as you squirmed under him, moaning his name like it was the only word you could remember.  He rewarded you by inserting his ring finger inside you as well. Your hips bucked and he chuckled at the sudden reaction.

Ethan let go released your nipple from his lips with a pop before commenting. “Someone is eager.” 

“Let’s hope your dick doesn’t disappoint.” You said at him, with half open eyes.

“God, it’s like you like riling me up.” Ethan growled. “I can’t stand you.”

He pulled his hand out from inside of you and you couldn’t stop the whimper from leaving your lips.  Either Ethan didn’t notice or he didn’t bother teasing you about it, because he didn’t make a remark.  He pulled down your shorts and underwear in one motion.  He admired your clit for a moment and you spread your legs teasingly.

“Wanna eat it?” You asked, biting down on your lower lip.

“You don’t deserve it.” He teased.  “But, I’ll grace you with the pounding of a lifetime.”

Ethan pulled down his pants to his knees and did the same with his underwear. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock: large, hard and proud, an audible gasp leaving your lips.

“I’m guessing it doesn’t disappoint.” Ethan smirked up at you.

“Just because you got the equipment, doesn’t mean you know how to use it.” You retorted.

Ethan leaned forward to hover directly over you. His eyes were controlled and filled with lust when he said, “We’ll see about that.”

You couldn’t think of a response and even Ethan was surprised he stunned you. He decided to take the opportunity to get you in the right position.

“Get on all fours.” He commanded, and he was shocked again to see you follow him so readily.

There was something alluring about seeing you with cartoon printed night shorts pooled at your knees and your shirt raised up your back to reveal your moist slit and perky butt eagerly waiting for him.  He would never be able to look at that outfit the same.

He positioned himself at your entrance, rimming you to get his tip wet.

“Should have put that loud mouth of yours to use and get me all wet.”

“You don’t deserve it.” You retorted.

Ethan smirked, but his smirk turned to a loud moan when you pushed back on to his dick letting him penetrate you.  He had to grip on to you to not fall on top of you in pleasure.  If he wasn’t already on his knees, he would have dropped to them.  You felt heavenly to him, so wet and tight, like you were made for each other.  

Ethan snapped out of it quickly.  He had to show you how good he was and not that he was only someone blessed with the right equipment. He pulled his hips back before slamming them roughly into you. You moaned out, but it wasn’t the kind of moan he was looking for.  So, he did it again from another angle.  This moan was a little closer, but not quite.  He did it a few more times until he found the spot.  The spot that made you scream his name from the top of his lungs.

“E-Ethan, oh Ethan, right there.” You moaned. “Please, Ethan, again...”

He did it again, just to make sure and you gripped the couch arm for balance. He continued to ram into you with the speed and strength to hit the same spot over and over again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you almost started drooling. You did your best to push back against him and he grunted each time you did in response.

“Ah, Ethan...I’m gonna...” You warned.

Ethan could feel you clenching around him. “Damn, already?” Ethan let out a chuckle. “It’s almost like I’m good at this or something.”

“Shut up, Dolan.” You growled.

“What was that?” He asked, slowing the rhythm of his hips.

“God, Mr. Dolan.” You relented pushing against him at the previous speed. 

“Hmm” Ethan kept his dangerously slow pace.  “I”ll give you what you want, only if you explain why you hate me so much.”

“What....” You whispered harshly.

Ethan’s hand slipped around you waist to massage your clit as he pumped into you even slower.  Your head collided with the couch cushion as you groaned loudly.

“Why now?!” You yelled, mostly to yourself. Speaking was hard enough as he stimulated you, and it mostly came out in gasps.  “I didn’t like the fact that you made my brother feel small, okay?” 

You tried in vain to push back against him, but he was strong and controlled the pace.  He did move a bit faster.

“I-I really didn’t mean to...” Ethan said, he also sounded out of breath. “...I guess I was kinda trying to impress you guys.  But then you were being such a bitch.”

“Well, you had a shitty way of showing your interest.” You scoffed.

“And you have a bratty way of telling someone to be better.” Ethan retorted.

“Can you please just f*ck me now?” You begged.  “Please, Ethan...I need it.”

“I thought you weren’t going to beg me...”

“ETHAN FOR GOD SAKE!” You yelled, making him laugh.

“Fine fine....” He said, as though he was doing a small favor and not plowing you on the couch in the living room.  

He grabbed both your hips and slammed into you with an even faster speed. He pulled you down on to him, hitting you from a different angle while still managing to hit your spot each time.  You leaned back, your back hitting chest and you bounced on top of him.

“Oh yeah....” Ethan groaned. “That’s it, baby...”

“Baby?” You asked.

Ethan pulled your head back to meet his eyes. “Look at those eyes, you’re mine now, baby girl.  Don’t deny it...”

You couldn’t if you wanted to because he instantly bent down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth.  While the action slowed down your ability to bounce on him, Ethan was some how able to continue pushing up into you; driving you to your climax.  You weren’t sure if you would say you were his, but you were pretty damn sure this was going to be the best sex you’ve ever had.

As your orgasm rolled over you in waves, you shuddered as you felt Ethan pull out of you. With all the strength you could muster, you turned around and grabbed his dick to hold it steady for your waiting, open mouth.  The sight alone made Ethan release and he watched as his seed hit your tongue. He held your head, entangling his fingers in your hair to keep you steady as you took in all of his following spurts.  You looked up at him to meet his eyes, and Ethan swore the last spurt of cum was because of that alone.

“That was so freaking hot...” Ethan commented.

“I guess you deserved that.” You grinned,  after swallowing the last of his seed while licking the reminisce off your lips.

“Well, now you’ve spoiled your breakfast.” Ethan teased.

“Only fair you spoil yours too.” You teased back.  You leaned back on the couch opening your legs making Ethan chuckle before he obliged.

After making you orgasm again, you and Ethan awkwardly laid on your sides as you stared at each other. 

“So...” Ethan said, slowly.

“So...” You mimicked, before continuing.  “I’ll go first.”

“No, I will...” Ethan argued.

“Can we not argue for once?” You groaned.

“Fine...” Ethan sighed.

“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about you and Grayson. To be honest, I think I wanted to hate you a bit.” You admitted.  “I was jealous of what you had achieved, not on my behalf, but my brother’s.  I didn’t want him to get discouraged or worse, look up to you guys and become douchebags...no offense.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Ethan groaned. He absentmindedly rubbed circles on your cheek with the back of his hand.  “I guess, me being rude when you first walked in was just my toxic habit of not being able to stop working. It was something related to the company and I wanted to just get it done.  I’m working on improving and focusing less on work. But, the bragging, I didn’t mean to do it. I just become a bit preach-y sometimes.”

“I get it.” You smiled. “To be honest, I was kind of nitpicking these past few days. I never thought I would admit it out loud, but I kind of like it here...with you.”

“Well, I do give killer head...” Ethan teased, making you laugh.

“God, don’t start.” You pushed him lightly.

Ethan leaned in and kissed you softly, no tongue, just enjoying your lips again his. You stayed like that for awhile, giving each other little kissed before slowly sitting up.

“We should get dressed before Grayson and my brother get back.” You said, putting your clothes back on.  “I think this would scar him for life.”

Ethan laughed. “You’re right. We should change...”

By the time Grayson and your brother came back in, you thought you covered up everything you both did.  You were both in your usual lounge wear and finally eating the breakfast Ethan prepared, though you did have to reheat it.

“How was the surf?” You asked your brother as he washed his hands at the sink behind you.

“Good.” He grinned.  He pointed between you and Ethan sitting across from each other. “You two become friends or something? You’re not arguing.”

“Oh, uh...I guess you could say that.” You said, blushing.

Ethan smirked, thinking about the multiple times you begged him earlier not to make any comments about your interaction to your brother.  You weren’t sure if you and Ethan were going to be more than friends just yet, and you didn’t want  your brother to know you banged guys so readily.

“Judging by the size of the hickey on her neck, I’m guessing they are a little bit more than friends right now...” Grayson remarked, emerging from the right side of the kitchen.

Your eyes went big as you stammered a response.  You watched as your brother’s smile from his laughter at Grayson’s “joke” faded into shock as he saw the bruise on your neck.  Your hand shot up to cover it, not helping your case at all.  You looked at Ethan for help, but he was red as a tomato.  For someone who talked a lot of smack he was just as awkward about this as you were.

“Oh my god...Y/N...I can’t believe you slept with one of my idols.” Your brother groaned, covering his face.  “You are the absolute worst!”

[hankwritten]

Lies, Damned Lies, and Valentine’s

Day 7 of the valentine’s day event, Whole Team

“Have the RED team vandalized us in the middle of the night?” Medic asked, gazing around the common room which had been papered with tiny hearts. “What is with all the pink?”

“Ach, it’s Valentine’s day, boyo!” Demo told him with a hearty slap on the back. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Medic adjusted his glasses, which had fallen out of place with the overzealous display of masculine affection. “My wife and I are…estranged. I have not celebrated a Valentine’s day in a very long time.”

“Well, so long as you made your cards, you’re celebrating just fine.” When Medic didn’t respond, Demo pressed a, “you did make some cards, right lad?”

“Cards for who? I told you I have not spoken to-”

“For the team ya quack,” Demo snorted. “We always make cards for each other on Valentine’s day.”

“…Like kindergarteners,” Medic asked drily.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud doc,” Demo elbowed him. “It’s a tradition.”

Medic crossed his arms, and kicked a small paper heart that had fallen on his shoe. “Well no one told me about it.”

At that, Demo finally paused. “Ah, I suppose everyone forgot to mention it to the rookie. Don’t worry though!” This time, Medic dodged the pat aimed at his shoulder. “Everyone knows you only got here a month or so ago, they won’t hold you to any obligations.”

“What a relief.” Medic rolled his eyes.

He was able to put the ridiculous conversation out of his mind thanks to the oncoming battle, slinging on his pack with a feeling of purpose. Dealing with REDs and avoiding Spies took most of his concentration, as a day that he went about distracted was a day he’d find quite a few Sniper shots through his head. However, as much as he’d dismissed Valentine’s by the midday break that afternoon, it appeared his teammates hadn’t.

He’d followed Heavy to the cover of the sentry nest, but as his partner was filling up Sasha, he noticed that Engie had laid out a few pieces of folded paper on top of the dispenser. Medic wandered closer. It took him a moment to parse what he was seeing, but then he remembered the travesty that had become of the common room and realized Demo had been dead serious about Valentine’s Day. Engineer’s valentines were spread out neatly, all unique, all cheerfully signed by members of the team. Scout had draw a rather good rendition of the man himself standing next to his sentry, a little heart between them. Sniper had written ‘THANKS TRUCKIE’ in block letters. Even Soldier had put in some effort, as he had used red, white, and blue construction paper to make what might have been the shape of Texas if you squinted enough.

Nearby, Pyro was showing off their own collection. Scout had also drawn a picture for them (of Mayor Balloonicorn), which they had delicately set in the grass, their other cards out before them. The one from Engie they were attacking with vigor, since the Engineer had been forward thinking enough to glue tiny pieces of candy to the folded paper.

“They’re all real nice Pyro,” he was chuckling. “Though maybe put them back in your pocket? Don’t want them to get dirty.”

Pyro nodded, and began shuffling them back into a pouch within their chemsuit.

“They take this very seriously, don’t they?” Medic noted absently about the pair.

Heavy, having loaded on the ammo required, turned and saw Medic mulling over Engineer’s cards. “Oh, da! Every year. We do not spend holidays together, so for team, is closest thing.”

As he spoke, he reached into his front pocket. Something with Demo’s handwriting dashed all over it appeared in his hand, obnoxiously saccharine with its copious hearts and overuse of the color red. Yet the Heavy Weapons Guy displayed it proudly, and Medic offered him a wry smile.

“I had no idea,” Medic mused.

“…Team forget to tell you?” Heavy rumbled. “Heavy see. Heavy wondered why doctor did not give him one.”

Medic coughed lightly into his hand. “I wasn’t aware until this morning-”

“No, is alright. Heavy’s little joke.” He patted Medic on the shoulder, which was (surprisingly) more reserved than Demo’s attempt at the same. “We kill RED babies, that is gift enough, da?”

Medic agreed, and followed him off into battle. However, this time the threat of the loving spirit stuck, and Medic found himself skewered on the end of the Spy’s knife more than he was comfortable with. He tried to shake himself, to forget his teammates’ foolish obsession, but one thought kept rankling him: he might have not known to send out cards, but why hadn’t anyone gotten him anything?

They returned to BLU base with an embarrassing loss on their collars, though you wouldn’t know by looking. Everyone was in the common showing of their haul, passing around heart shaped cookies that someone had made last night and stuffed in the fridge. Medic tried one, and nearly gagged on how much sugar had been crammed into such a small package.

Apparently everyone had gotten the same memo about Demo’s cards, as each one came with a tiny novel vodka attached. Demo peeled off the last one (from Soldier with a picture of a shovel on it, saying simply I Dig You) with the utmost care, lining them up next to his whiskey bottle.

“Look!” he grinned to Soldier. “Me scrumpy’s birthed a litter!”

Soldier, who had taken to taping his own cards to his helmet, slapped him on the back. “Congratulations! You’re a grandfather!”

Scout, like Pyro, couldn’t help but flaunt his, claiming that he got the most out of anyone. When Sniper pointed out that everyone got seven cards, he pivoted to say, “yeah well mine are the best, quality over quantity Snipes.”

Medic shouldn’t have been irritated. He didn’t care about Valentine’s Day, not in the slightest, so why was he getting so terse about his teammates’ holiday cheer? Of course they didn’t get cards for the rookie, they probably would have gotten cards for their old Medic, not him.

That thought itself would have put anyone in a sour mood, but the tipping point was when he walked the corner and saw Spy delicately arranged bits of red-hued paper into a manila folder, smiling slightly as he set the last one down. Medic was close enough to read, saw Sniper’s handwriting, and also that the poem it was quoting was incomplete. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. / I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. The next two lines were missing— Medic knew enough of poetry to glean that—which meant Sniper probably had the other half. All shuffled always with the other ones he’d gotten from Scout and Engie and Demo and whoever, but the most important thing Medic could determine from the display was all those people had given Spy valentines too. Spy. Medic’s eye twitched. Before he knew it he was barreling past Spy, out past the others in order to get to the hallway. There were a couple exclamations of confusion, a few calls asking what was wrong, but Medic ignored them all.

He didn’t need their obligatory attempts to include him, he could see when he wasn’t wanted.

“Doctor! Wait!”

He considered not stopping for the deep voice behind him, but unless he wanted to go charging off onto the battlefield, his path would eventually take him back around base. He sighed, and turned to face the man behind him.

“Can I help you?” Medic snapped. There was no use pretending he wasn’t miffed.

“What is the matter?” Heavy asked. “Have not seen you this angry before.”

“Well that is not a big surprise considering we barely know each other, apparently.” Medic crossed his arms.

Heavy furrowed his brow. Always a man of few words, he either didn’t know what to say, or figured it was better not to antagonize Medic further, and so he settled for waiting for his teammate to elaborate.

Medic relented eventually, shoulders sagging as he exhaled. “I realize I am not…part of the team so to speak. I understand I am not as close to you all as your old Medic was, and I do not blame you for not including me, but it is still…difficult to watch everyone open cards and…not receive any myself.” God it sounded so childish when he said it allowed. He was a doctor for god’s sake! He should be above such petty jealousies.

As his self consciousness closed in, he hunched, and failed to look at Heavy. It took the man saying, “doctor did not get valentines? Is not possible,” for Medic to turn back around and see him shaking his head. “At very least, Heavy give card.”

“You…?” Medic unfolded his arms. “When?”

Heavy raised an eyebrow. “Did doctor not check locker?” When Medic blinked, Heavy added, “is where we put at start of day, so none get lost.”

“…Just like in kindergarten,” Medic finished the thought and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God I am such a dummkopf.”

Heavy chuckled, clearly glad to have resolved the situation. “Medic is far from. Come, we look now.”

So Medic did come, entering resupply and walking to his locker, taking a moment to brace himself as he grasped the handle. He turned it. Immediately, he was hit with an avalanche of purple, pink, and red, an absolute tidal wave of valentines rushing out to greet him from where they’d been conglomerating inside his locker like a clogged artery.

There were so many, decorated all with his class symbol or words of thanks. Pyro had made at least four, decorated with crayons and rainbow drawings, sticking slightly where the paint hadn’t dried. Medic picked one off the floor. Scout had drawn Archimedes beautifully, which was astounding considering the two hadn’t gotten along since the Über incident, and it must have been quite a strain to sit still long enough to capture the bird’s likeness. Engie had detailed out a list over every time Medic had saved his bacon in the past month, Spy had written something long and oddly heartfelt, Soldier had gifted him a coupon for one free haircut. The list went on.

It took Heavy gently touching his shoulder while he read Sniper’s uncharacteristically kind letter to realize he was holding his hand over his mouth. He cleared his throat, but despite that still couldn’t find words.

“Medic is part of team,” Heavy stated, matter of fact. “We appreciate. Do not forget that.”

Medic’s eyes fell on a large card, tucked behind the Quick-Fix in the back of the locker so it hadn’t come tumbling out with the rest. This one was unquestionably from Heavy. Medic wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did.

Delicately, he reached out and took it, seeing it was nearly the size of a proper book, made out of two pieces of paper tied with a string. He gently gazed over the words inside, drinking them all in, and then softly spoke, “thank you mein friend.”

“Is no trouble.” Heavy squeezed his shoulder, and Medic could tell his friend was smiling by the chuckle in his voice. “Now! We go. Back to party, doctor should get to show off his cards too.”

“Yes, lets. But ah…not this one though,” Medic finished, softly folding Heavy’s card back up. “This one I will keep here.”

Heavy smiled. “If doctor likes.” With that, Medic followed him back to the party.

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

For your October ask! 1 + 13 (separate or together)

You got it! Prompts are “ruffled hair” and “black cat”.

-------

Phryne marched up the path, a woman on a mission. Really, if Jack was going to drag his feet getting them a warrant, she was going to be forced to take matters into her own lock-picks and perhaps it would do him good to be reminded of that fact.

And, she thought as she reached the front door, if she happened to finally get a glimpse inside his house at the same time, well, that was just the cherry on top of the investigative sundae.

She knocked once, twice, no answer, which was strange because his motorcar was clearly parked out front.

She was just about to knock again when she heard a small noise behind her. She turned, not sure what to expect, but didn’t see anything. Then she heard it again. Was that... meowing?

Phryne looked down and sure enough there was the source of the sound — a small, black cat.

“Hello,” she greeted, because manners. “Who do we have here?”

The cat backed up a step, clearly a little skittish, so Phryne took a seat on the top step of the porch and held out a hand in greeting. The cat sniffed at her for a moment before coming close enough for Phryne to gently pet it.

“Aren’t you a sweet girl,” Phryne murmured, continuing to stroke the tiny animal, who nuzzled in closer. The two of them stayed that way for a few minutes and it was calming, for both of them, which was why, Phryne reasoned, she didn’t immediately hear Jack’s approach.

“Dinah!” he exclaimed, half irritation, half worry. “There you are.” 

Jack huffed, moving closer with perhaps more worry than irritation after all, given that he only seemed to register Phryne’s presence after checking that the cat was alright.

“Oh, Miss Fisher! What are you...”

He didn’t finish his question, though, probably because of the dumbfounded look on his partner’s face. But she couldn’t help it.

He was... flustered, in a way she’d never seen before. Hair disheveled, tie and suit coat gone, sleeves rolled up. And when he went to sit next to her on the step she saw he was missing socks as well, his feet just sitting bare in the shoes as though he’d thrown them on in a hurry.

In a word, he looked delicious.

But, to Phryne’s credit, she recovered quickly.

“Hello, Jack! Who’s your friend?”

“This is Dinah,” he explained, surreptitiously examining the cat, even as she stayed curled into Phryne. “A house cat who decided this evening that she wasn’t.”

“Oh, was there a jailbreak?” Phryne asked with a grin.

“Mmmm,” Jack agreed. “I opened the door to get the evening edition and she scurried past me faster than you can say — well you know.” He shrugged and leaned back against the step. “I’ve been out looking for her for almost half an hour.”

“Well she must have gotten hungry. Like father, like feline, hmmm?”

Jack didn’t look amused at the joke so Phryne took it upon herself to look amused enough for both of them, because partnership. “Though I must say, Jack, I’m quite pleased. A black cat? Very brave of you to flaunt superstition like that.”

“Well they’re only considered unlucky in some places, Miss Fisher. Scottish lore, for example, holds that a black cat's arrival at a new home signifies prosperity.”

“And is that what happened to you?” she asked, as Dinah rubbed her cheek on Phryne’s leg.

“Actually, yes,” he chuckled. “I had only been here a few weeks when she sort of… showed up. Turned my life upside down for a bit, but here we are.”

“And that famous Robinson heart just couldn’t turn her away?” Phryne teased.

“More like that famous Robinson superstition couldn’t be forgotten; my mother would never have forgiven me for passing up such good fortune.”

Phryne rolled her lips to refrain from commenting further; Jack Robinson might talk a good game, but as he’d talked it he’d also scooted closer to the cat and was not scratching her behind the ear.

“Well maybe I should take her off your hands, Jack. It is, after all, believed that a lady who owns a black cat will have many suitors.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Somehow, Miss Fisher, I doubt you are suffering from a scarcity. Though she does appear to have taken quite a shine to you.”

“Mmmm, she has. And well restrained, Jack, not making any jokes about how they’re often seen as witches’ familiars.”

“I would never,” he denied, vehemently, but with a sly glint in his eye. “But while we’re on the subject, have you come to put a spell on me?”

“Well if you have to ask, Jack, I’ve clearly not cast it right.”

Jack chuckled again and the sound warmed her in a way she hadn’t expected. She turned to look at him and his expression as he smiled back was so unbearably fond and his hair was ruffled and he was sitting so close and his empty house was right there... 

Phryne swayed towards him, wondering if maybe this was the time, finally, to change the tempo of their waltz and take the next step. And then Jack was swaying too and they were so impossibly close...

And then, because this cat was clearly the canine equivalent of Aunt P, Dinah meowed loudly and with purpose, breaking the mood and whatever enhancement it held.

Jack looked startled for a second, before jumping to his feat. “I think perhaps you were right about her being hungry. I better get her some dinner.”

Phryne nodded as Jack hurried over to his door and opened it with a key. “Traitor,” she whispered to the cat who simply gave her an unconcerned look before running into the house.

Phryne stood then too, smoothing down her skirt. “Well it seems you have plans, Inspector, so I suppose I will see you tomorrow. Good luck with the prisoner,” she teased before starting down the walk. She had gotten about halfway when Jack called out to stop her.

“Miss Fisher?”

“Yes, Jack?”

“Did you... you never told me what you needed.”

“Oh, I...,” Phryne stood there, momentarily unable to recall the initial reason for her visit. She shook her head at her foolishness, though, and got a hold of herself quickly, because Phryne Fisher. “Yes, I wanted to remind you to get a wriggle on with the Matthews warrant. Time and tide wait for no man, Inspector, and I am right there with them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Fisher, though I doubt that will sway the judge.”

“His loss,” she trilled as she kept walking to her car, a little more swish in her step than was strictly necessary. She talked a good game too, but still, that was odd. Forgetting why she’d come over? That was not like her at all. Cats, she decided, were very distracting.

That… or maybe she wasn’t the only one who could cast a good spell.

Couldn’t say that she minded.

-------

October Prompts

[dashhoney25]

E. Part VII

Hazel

Arriving home, you felt mentally and physically drained from the intensive work out that you endured. The brisk walk you took before leaving had your heart rate up, and you couldn't get the conversation with Jade out of your head.  The information about Erik and Adonis seemed foolish to believe, but with all of the facts; it all seemed quite plausible. Because of Erik's attitude and deceptive nature, it could be true. But Adonis, the possibility that he could be an escort; it didn't make sense to you. You didn't want to believe that Adonis had been around the block and got paid to flaunt his assets, but what could you do about it; you've sampled his guilty pleasure as well.

Even though you still haven't heard from Erik, the encounter between you and Adonis was beginning to weigh on you. This newfound feeling that you hadn't experienced in months, came with side effects. You could still feel Adonis on you, around you, and in you. You craved his touch, and would do anything to be in his presence at this moment; but your pride wouldn't let you. You exited the drafted text message to Adonis and put your phone on 'Do Not Disturb'. Undressing yourself, you walked into the bathroom and got into the shower.

Washing away the stress of the day would definitely help, not to mention that you wouldn't be consumed with your phone for remainder of the day. Taking advantage of the hot water that cascaded down your body, you enjoyed the relaxing moment before being knocked back into reality. Turning off the water and wrapping yourself in a towel, you tied your hair into a messy bun and followed up with your skin care routine. You grabbed a big blue t-shirt and a pair of Savage X Fenty panties to set on the bed. Grabbing your phone, you opened Spotify to play one of your favorite sexy playlists to fill your home through your Google Home Mini.

After drying off, you lathered in your favorite jasmine and vanilla scented lotion before getting dressed. You walked into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of Hennessy while you danced to the music playing. Taking your glass into the living room, you took another long sip before placing the glass on the table to dance.

P*$$Y Fairy (OTW) by Jhené Aiko

You swayed your hips to the beat as Jhené serenaded on the track. You'd give seductive eyes to your invisible audience as you moved your body seductively, getting against the wall you arched your back as you slid down into a split.  You got up on all fours and arched your back as you turned your head and rolled on your back. Bringing your hips into a bridge you pulsed up and down before crawling on the floor to get to the couch to hold it for support. Gripping the couch, you popped your ass while standing on your tip toes, hoping your knees wouldn't buckle. Looking back at your ass while you continued to dance, there was a sudden banging at your door. "Who could that be?" you thought to yourself. "Maybe it's next door" You said to yourself ignoring it. You climbed onto the couch and laid down to sing in bliss as you enjoyed this time. Another bang to the door interrupted your concert. Huffing, you paused the music and got up to answer the door.

"Erik?" You questioned as he smiled mischievously. "In the flesh" he said as he stood more in the doorway looking down, you noticed a bag in his hand. "Aren't you gonna let me in?" He asked getting closer to you. You folded your arms in disgust, "Don't you think you owe me an apology?" You asked. "I can do that inside, come on Haze" He pleaded. You weren't in the mood for company at all, especially not Erik. You rolled your eyes and turned on your heels walking back inside as Erik followed behind you to close the door.

"I heard some music in here, what you got going on?" he asked placing his bag down. "Minding my business" you say opening the fridge, looking for something to eat. "You not excited to see me?" Erik asked. You grabbed a jar of salsa and went to the cabinet for a bag of tortilla chips. "Why would you ask such a dumb question? Like I said you owe me an apology" you said taking your snack to the couch and turning the music on; lowering the volume. "I didn't think I needed to once I saw you leave the lounge" Erik said sitting next to you. "Excuse me?!" You questioned in disbelief. "You always mad at me, and get over it like usual; once I saw you leave with my brother, I figured you'd forget about it." Erik chuckled. "And I thought I was right, since I hadn't heard from you anymore." You rolled your eyes at his stupid remark, "I just don't have the energy for you anymore E. After the way you dismissed me at the lounge, I was done" You said dipping a chip into the salsa. Erik smirked, revealing his dimples. "Any other time, had you left alone; you'd be blowing my phone up the next day still bitchin' about it" he said taking your chip and eating it.

You looked at him shocked, "But you didn't call me the next morning. So what happened?" Erik asked. You prepared another chip for yourself and continued to eat. "None of your business Erik." you said. Erik bit his lip, "Having withdrawals yet?" he questioned as his hand landed on your thigh. A dumbfounded look formed on your face. "Withdrawals from what Erik?" You questioned closing the bag of chips and the jar of salsa. "Heard you been getting busy" he said raising a brow. Embarrassment crept in and you got up to put away your snack, Erik got up and stood next to the bar stools. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, you've been off my case lately so mission accomplished" Erik said playfully. "Whatever I do, it has nothing to do with you. And fuck what you heard by the way" you replied. "Well you fucking my brother is what I heard" Erik let out. Your stomach instantly dropped and your face turned hot, you knew you were turning red; damn your light complexion.

Erik turned your face to his and stared in your eyes. "But you still ain't had none of me yet" he said lowly leaning in to kiss you. As soon as his lips pecked yours, you pulled away and attempted to move away from Erik. Only for his lips to hit against your neck, you felt weak and he hovered over you. He kissed you again, "You didn't have to give it to him" he muttered. You really weren't in the mood for this, and his jealousy towards Adonis frustrated you. You didn't know if he was trying to seduce you, or slither his way into your folds but your mind was thinking one thing; and your body another.

Water by Kehlani

Erik continued to tease you with kisses as you tried to focus on other things. His hand reached your thighs and gripped them roughly to wrap your legs around his waist. Gasping, you shouted "Water!"  Erik chuckled as his finger trailed the lining of your panties. You continued to mouth the words of the song to yourself in an attempt to get into the mood. You felt like you were betraying Adonis by doing this, though you wanted Erik to have it all along on your own timing; things just didn't turn out that way. Erik removed your panties in one swift motion and you quickly pulled your shirt down in embarrassment.

"Damn I ain't felt this wet in years. . ." the song echoed.

"Quit being shy Ma" Erik called out as he spread your legs and kissed at your thighs. You sighed heavily and tried to reason with him as you sat up on your elbows. "Maybe we should chill out tonight E" you explained. "For what?" he questioned as he nibbled at your thighs, not making eye contact. "Because, I'm. . ." your voice trailed as his fingers reached your folds. "Shit Erik!" you called out as his fingers disappeared inside of you. "You were saying." He asked looking at you, fascinated with his fingers being coated in your goodness.

The look he gave you was enough to make your body melt, closing your eyes you threw your head back and spread your legs for him to continue. "That's a good girl" he said using his thumb to satisfy your clit. Your body jolted at the sensation, knocking you back into reality of what was going on. As the music continued to play, Erik hooked his fingers which brought pleasure to your g-spot. Your mouth fell agape while your breathing picked up, you rolled your hips against his fingers to intensify the sensation; your folds were dripping wet by now. Erik was indulging in how sexy you looked, unfolding for him like this knowing that he was the cause of your puddle. Removing himself from you, your breathing returned to normal as you slowly opened your eyes to find Erik sucking on his fingers.

"Damn" he sighed as he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. You sat up and adjusted your shirt, trying to regain your composure. You grabbed your glass from the table and downed the rest of the alcohol. Taking the glass into the kitchen, Erik followed close behind as you placed the glass in the sink. Erik's arms snaked around your waist as his kisses trailed your neck, turning you to face him he kissed you passionately leaning you against the sink. You pulled away and looked away to catch your breath. "We really shouldn't do this" you said lowly.

"Why you thinking so much?" he questioned, sounding just like Adonis you had mini flashback. "Erik I'm just... not..." you shrugged your shoulders not knowing what to say. Pulling away from him you walked away to your bedroom to grab a pair of pants to wear. "I've been around enough women to know when something is going on" Erik said walking into your bedroom. You stepped into the cotton pants and sat on the edge of your bed. "What do you mean?" you asked. "You're fighting yourself to let me have you Hazel." Erik admitted. "Your body is responding to me perfectly, but when I look at you all I see is fear and confusion" He said getting in your bed.

"E get off the bed, I'm about to go back in the other room" you said standing up. "Nah come here, we ain't done talking" he barked. You huffed. "There's nothing else to talk about" you said climbing in the bed, keeping a distance between you two. Erik pulled you into his lap, making you straddle him. "This isn't necessary" you said twiddling your thumbs looking away from him. Erik turned your face towards his, rearing a scowl on your face. "Tell me how he makes you feel." Erik said placing his hands around your waist. There was so much concern and sincerity in his voice, "How does he make your body feel in ways that I cannot?" Erik portrayed a sense of sensitivity to this situation, especially because he knew that he wasn't the first to be with Hazel; but deep down he wanted to be her last. Knowing that his brother was a tough act to follow, he never saw himself in this position; let alone asking about Adonis' highlights performed on Hazel's body.

"He?" you questioned. Erik grew impatient, "ADONIS! What the fuck did Adonis do to you that you can't give yourself to me?!" he yelled. You were stunned that he yelled at you, but turned on at his whining; he yearned for his brother's secrets that you vowed to keep secret; it's bad enough that you couldn't hide the fact that you indeed fucked Adonis. "Why are you thinking so much Erik?" you flipped on him. He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I wouldn't worry about someone who isn't here" you teased. "Maybe you'll get what you want if you just relax" you encouraged. Erik didn't enjoy your response at all. He quickly pushed you onto the bed and pulled your pants and underwear off. He hovered over you and kissed you roughly as his hand rested on your neck.

You were caught off guard by all of this and opened your eyes as he kissed you. I guess Erik could feel your eye lashes tickling him, he looked back at you and pulled away. "He wasn't rough" you whispered. Erik nodded his head in agreement and continued to kiss your neck roughly as he cupped your breasts underneath your shirt. Erik ignored your suggestion purposefully, he knew he could do what he wanted; but when it comes to your body, he'll have to figure out that rough isn't the answer.

Still massaging your breasts, Erik sucked on your nipples and twirled his tongue against your rings causing you to arch your back. Erik smirked and bit them as he slid his index and middle finger back into your folds watching as you moaned. You weren't into biting, but something about his teeth against your flesh ignited a fire within you. You spread your legs, allowing for deeper access while he moved from one nipple to the other; scooping his fingers into you deeper you creamed at his hooked motions inside of you. "Mhmmm" you let out clawing at his back. You felt fabric and opened your eyes. "Take this off!" you commanded.

Pulling out, Erik stuck his fingers inside your mouth before taking off his shirt. Swallowing your juices you smiled in satisfaction. Watching Erik undress, the regret crept in as you realized that you two were too far gone to stop now. Erik wasted no time to strip down and you watched as his hard pleasure stick sprang free from his boxers. "Be patient Princess" he said looking at you, you couldn't stop staring at it; considering Adonis hid his glory from you, up until you tasted him for yourself. You groaned in satisfaction as he got back in bed and began feasting between your thighs.

Erik came across as a novice pussy pleaser, he stayed in one spot and flicked his tongue rapidly, spreading your folds hoping to receive some feedback from you. Your precious pearl was not responding as well as you expected. Placing your hand on your hood, you pulled it back to alert Erik that your clit required attention. You looked down at him, hoping eye contact would put you in a better mood; Adonis knew how to please you and his tongue game was heaven; it's a shame that Erik isn't the same when it comes to foreplay. Erik eyes met yours as you watched his tongue flick against your clit. You felt better, but he was still lacking.

Sighing heavily, you closed your legs, stopping Erik. He looked at you upset. You opened your legs "Lick here" you said pointing to your favorite spot, "Suck there. Insert your fingers and pump into me while looking at me" you instructed. You pulled your hood back and took his hand, "Rub there, suck it, and don't rush the finale" you barked. "Aight" Erik said smirking, he was about to begin when he spoke, "Adonis ain't have to get this talk did he?". Those 9 words immediately ruined it for you, you climbed to the end of the bed and laid on the pillows next to Erik. "Just fuck me" you barked. Erik looked confused, "What I say?" he questioned. "Hurry up Erik!" you said rubbing your clit to salvage the last bit of your arousal.  Erik hovered you and swatted your hand away, "Damn you are having withdrawals! Guess I need to come by more often" he said in a cocky tone. Erik's ego seemed to be bigger than his dick, all this shit he's talking is putting you in a horrid mood.

When Erik swatted your hand away, he could tell you were growing angry. He quickly slid inside of you, watching your facial expressions change as if he alleviated all of your worries. You gripped his back and groaned out in pleasure. "Deeper" you cried out. Erik obliged, he and Adonis felt equal in size; but Erik had a little bit more girth. Erik felt better than you imagined and you couldn't help but kiss him passionately as he grinded inside of you. You vowed to not cum for him, due to the connection you had with Adonis; but that may not be an option with Erik.

"Shit, you wet as FUCK!" he chuckled. "Good" you breathed out, as his strokes became sharper. "You like that?" he asked flashing his golds smiling. You bit your bottom lip as you stared at him intoxicatingly. Erik flipped you over and admired your bare body on top of him. Throughout all the bullshit between you two, you guys always shared a moment of innocence when you were alone. You watched as his chest heaved up and down, his hunger grew for you the longer he stayed inside of you. Your usual way of riding consisted of leaning over and clapping your ass against his pelvis; but Erik's dick was so much to handle that you wanted to challenge yourself. Sitting straight up you planted your feet flat against Erik's sides and held onto the bed to push your body up and down on Erik's thick pleasure stick. The intensity between you two was an all time high, the relationship had finally been expressed in all forms.

Erik grabbed your hips and helped to bounce you as his hips bucked each time you came down on him harshly. With anyone else, I'm sure you'd find this way of fucking to be uncomfortable, but something about Erik and how he looked at you, the pain was worth it. "Fuck! Is this too deep?" he questioned. You shook your head and closed your eyes as you felt tears forming. You felt like you were riding his dick into the sunset as you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter with each stroke. "You taking this shit real good Princess" he cheered. Erik's hands squeezed your breasts roughly which brought a smile to your face as the tears fell from your eyes. "Scoot back" you urged. Erik moved back into the pillows and you leaned over him, placing your hands by his ears as they submerged into the pillows.

"Hold on Daddy" you said seductively bititng his bottom lip, Erik kissed you sloppily as his tongue danced against yours, "Shit!" you let out between kisses. Erik groaned against you in satisfaction. You pulled away as your breasts hit has face, you began to grind against him again feeling him pull his hips upward to meet you halfway. "Ahhh!" you said as his dick massaged your walls effortlessly. Picking up your pace riding, Erik bit your nipples to your liking, the more he bit and sucked you the faster your ass clapped against his hips. "Goddamn baby girl." Erik called out. "Mhmmmm" you groaned in pleasure; Erik slapped your ass as you rested on your heels and held his sides to bounce on him. As bad as you wanted to ride Erik in reverse, he hadn't unlocked that level of freak in you yet. "Why you held this from me?" he questioned. You covered his mouth and rode him faster attempting to get your nut.

Erik bit your hand and you pulled it away. "E please stop it!" You said placing your feet flat on the bed, opening your legs, you curled your hips against his and grinded slowly; taking his hand to play with your clit. "Just relax" you said seductively looking at his angry eyes. Rolling against his shaft, you grabbed your breasts moaned out loudly. "Fuck Erik go faster!" you cried out as he had stopped playing with you. Continuing to ride him, you didn't realize that Erik was just laying there enjoying the show, you were a moaning mess and couldn't contain yourself. You did all the work, fucking yourself into a euphoric high as you felt like you were a one man show.

"Erik" you breathed out coming from your high, "Are you done?" Erik asked non-chalantly. You were confused and knocked out of your high, "Not really" you said looking at him confused. "Get up" Erik barked. "What?" you asked, confused. Was he not satisfied with the sex? Erik held you and pulled his body away from you, slowly pulling out. He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Erik walked into your closet and grabbed some towels, he placed them in the bathroom. Erik walked into the livingroom and grabbed his bag. Bringing his bag into the bedroom he took out his toothbrush and tooth paste. You got out of bed and followed him into the bathroom.

Erik

I had never done anything like this before, I always finish what I start. But I couldn't get over Hazel hiding this seductive nature from me for so long that, that she gave into my brother before me. I was baffled at how her body didn't respond to me when I attempted to dive in between her folds, anyone else would've came instantly at my touch. Not to mention, her harsh delivery of directions; I tried to joke with her and play it off but she wasn't having it. Even being inside of her, I felt like her pussy didn't belong to me; I knew she wanted me but her body and mind didn't need me, she didn't yearn for me like everyone else. But the show she put on for me, was nothing I had ever experienced. Her body was amazing and the way she felt inside was sensational but, she'd been permanently marked by my brother.

It was evident that she tried her hardest for me, for me to accept her but I don't think I could live up to her expectations. It pained me to ask her about my brother, but he took her from me. Never would I have imagined that he'd make a move on her, knowing that I had been trying for years. As close as we were in that moment in her bed, I felt so disconnected from her. I wanted to be alone and gather my thoughts before returning to bed, but Hazel followed my lead and brushed her teeth with me. She looked at me with saddened eyes laced with confusion.

She stepped into the shower and waited for me. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Nothing" I said standing under the hot water, relaxing my muscles. She sighed, "Erik I know when something's bothering you" she said wrapping her arms around me, "Now talk" she said kissing my neck. I exhaled heavily and kissed her forehead, "I'm good ma" I said dismissingly. Hazel pulled away, "Erik, you and I both know you only came over here to have sex once you got word of what happened with Adonis." She began. "Now that you got what you wanted, why are you being so cold towards me? I mean if anything I should be upset with you for manipulating me into doing this." "Manipulate?" I questioned raising a brow. "You did what you wanted to do. I didn't force you!" I barked.

She scoffed, "I said multiple times that we should just chill and you continued to seduce me!" she replied. "Well it won't happen again, it's over with" I said simply. "Erik. You and I both know that this isn't over between us." She said looking into my eyes. "I know your secret now and no I won't ever be okay with what you and your brother do, but I can't cut you out of my life. I'll always love you" she said in a comforting tone. I turned away from her and grabbed her soap to lather against my towel, "I'll always love you, but just because you know that I take my pleasure elsewhere and get paid to do it, it doesn't change what happened with Adonis" I admitted. "Erik really?!" she said shocked. "You fuck all of my friends and you expect me to just get over it. But I have sex with your brother one time, and I mean one time and you shut down on me?!" she yells.

I turned to face Hazel and ran the soapy towel all over my body, "It wasn't a part of the plan!" I said. "What plan?" Hazel questioned. "Adonis was supposed to be here for you in the ways that you wanted since I couldn't be. In return, I'd continue to fuck on the side to pay him since he was spending all of his time with you since he wouldn't be able to take clients. But being here for you didn't mean fucking you either!" I yelled at her in anger. "Isn't that what an escort does Erik?!" Hazel retorted. I quickly backed her into the corner of the shower and had my hand around her neck. "You wanna try that again?" I asked angrily. She looked at me coldly and removed my hand. "You're full of shit! You expect for the world to revolve around you and when something doesn't go your way you can't handle it! You got what you wanted Erik! Yet you were so concerned about someone else that you couldn't enjoy yourself!" I yelled. "He knows I've been tryna get you ever since Vic!" I snapped. "Fuck that! Victor isn't here anymore! If he was then I wouldn't be dealing with the both of you!" she remarked. "Too bad he cheated huh?!" I said coming behind her.

"Fuck you Erik!" Hazel yelled turning towards me. I backed her into the wall and placed my hands on the shower wall by her ears. "Fuck me? You wanna talk about fucking when Victor cheated on you with multiple women and you still wanted to take him back! I fucked your friends and you still love me through the bullshit! A nigga only gone do what you allow and that's how I know yo ass ain't going nowhere!" I spat. Hazel's face became red and the angry scowl on her face appeared, "But when I fuck your brother your dick still couldn't stand a chance against his! He eats my pussy with passion and knows me inside and out! And that magical sword of his, has been down my throat and I've swallowed his seed; better hope I don't multiply!" she said harshly gripping my balls painfully. I pushed her off of me, and got out the shower leaving her to shower alone.

Ten minutes later she got out of the shower and found me getting dressed. She had a towel wrapped around her body, "So you proud of being a brotherfucking hoe?!" I spat. Her hand came across my cheek so fast "Don't you ever fix your mouth to defame my character" she said angry; my cheek stung slightly. "It's true!" I retorted. "And you wanted your share of it too! I hope you're fucking happy!" she yelled dropping her towel to find something to wear. I admired her body from a distance, she glared at me angrily. "Aren't you about to leave? Your slice of heaven is over!" she yelled at me. I grabbed my phone and opened my camera, "I'm taking a picture, so it'll last longer!" I retorted.

Hazel charged into me as we fell onto the bed. She grabbed my phone and noticed no pictures were taken. She slapped me, "Ass!" she replied, getting up from my grasp I pinned her down and kissed her. She tried to fight me back and bit my lip hard. I placed my hand on her neck and continued to kiss her, she gave way to my demands; pulling away tears streamed her eyes. I wiped her tears and laid next to her. The look in her eyes brought the truth to fall from my lips. The truth of it all is that no matter how much I tried to break her with my words, she cut me deep by giving me her body, knowing I wouldn't fulfill the yearning need  I longed for, for years.

"It's a lot of shit I can't accept right now, and you're right. I'm wrong for how I've treated you in the past, and I'm wrong for my actions and the part I played in where we are right now. For years, you've been there for me and I fucked you over everytime. I can only be upset with myself for what happened between you and him. But I'm not ready to accept that you probably won't ever belong to me. No matter how deep I dig in you, how passionate I kiss you; your body screams Adonis" I admitted. "I'm sorry for talking shit to you the way that I do. But Hazel I do love you. I have love for you, and I'm in love with you. You've opened my eyes to the fact that this game out here is cold and this escort shit ain't got nothing on what's between your legs. I shouldn't have let Adonis get close to you. I should've stayed home with you those nights and listened to you. And I regret it all. But I need some time to think through this. I can't come at you correct and demand something from you when I'm battling bullshit with myself. Like you said, my ego is bigger than my dick and I couldn't agree more." I said feeling myself getting a little choked up.

Hazel pulled me into a hug and cried on me. We didn't say anything but we held each other as close as we could. I didn't expect for everything to come out like this, but spending this moment with her made me realize that money and fucking ain't everything; it's about that connection and loyalty to that phenomenal person who loves you unconditionally. My pride got in the way of what really mattered and because of my faults, I let her get away. Her friends didn't matter to me, but Hazel should've let me go a long time ago; but this pain that I'm feeling, knowing that we don't connect intimately it hurts. Never in my life have I felt so empty over some pussy, and Hazel wasn't just property to me. She was everything that I wanted once I was done being on my bullshit; but I never thought she'd fold on me.

Hazel kissed me passionately and interlocked her fingers in my dreads as she held onto me tightly. I pulled away and looked in her tear filled eyes and kissed her once more. "I should go. I'll let you know when I make it in" I said as she got off of me. Hazel wrapped the towel around her body and watched as I grabbed my bag. She got up from the bed and followed me to the door. Hazel pulled me into one last deep kiss, "When you're ready, I wanna talk about this" she said staring in my eyes. I nodded my head in agreement. "I love you, Er.. Eri.. Erik" she said in a shaky voice. "I love you too" I said opening the door and leaving.

Walking out of Hazel's apartment building, I headed to my car and pulled my phone out. Reaching my car, I dropped my bag inside and pulled out my phone. Starting the car, I made a phone call and waited for it to answer. After three rings, the phone picked up, "What's up E?" Adonis said. "We need to talk" I said.

A/N: This is the last installment of The Series. I hope you guys have enjoyed! If you guys have any suggestions; I will definitely consider continuing, or even write an alternate ending. I have enjoyed writing this as much as I've loved reading your wonderful comments!  Let me know what you think & feel free to submit requests for another mini-series! <3

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. 

Crimson Butterflies

Ao3

Chapter 1: Falling Under Hard Times

Touya took a long drag of his cigarette, enjoying the flood of smoke into his mouth and nose and the stimulating nicotine within. His cyan eyes were lidded as he half-basked in the darkness of the alleyway, yet despite his apparent loitering, his gaze was keenly fixated on the man waxing the hood of his sleek cobalt blue Porsche across the street. The man had some gall, preening in his five-hundred-dollar leather jacket and designer skinny jeans in this part of town; he was obviously just looking for a quick fuck, as he increased his efforts every time a woman walked by. He’d sidle around the edge of the car, making a show of flexing his muscles as he swept the wax-coated rag over the smooth blue, shining surface of his sports car. He’d then flash a wink and a dazzling smile, making the demure girls giggle and prance away in their heels. Touya wasn’t sure how many girls he intended to hustle this evening, considering he’d netted ten phone numbers in the hour that Touya had been watching him from the gloom. 

Just go in the bar and get to schmoozin’ some bimbo, already, Touya grumped, leaning against the cold, grime-coated alleyway wall with a scowl. I’m tired of watchin’ you cast your net for gold diggers. Though, Touya supposed that he wasn’t much better than those gold diggers, considering he was spying on the man with the intent to steal the Porsche he’s pretended to clean for the last hour. The sun was sinking below the cityline, catching on the rigid corners of the skyscrapers to scatter the beams and send bright yellow rays of light spearing in all directions. The day was ending and night was beginning, and soon, beasts like Touya would come out to prowl. This really was no place for a big-headed moron like that to be flaunting his car, but then again, that’s what allowed Touya to conduct business. 

A street urchin had to eat, and it was gonna be good pickings when a Porsche was involved. 

After five more minutes, it was clear to Touya that the man had no intentions of retreating into the bar until the sun had completely withdrawn from the sky. Touya’s gaze began to wander, exploring the different shops crammed into the plots lining the cracked tar and disjointed sidewalk of the boulevard. His cerulean eyes landed on the flickering static of an older, box-style television perched on a wooden box in the display case of an electronics store. Electronics always sell well, Touya thought, pushing himself away from the wall. 

He barely glanced left and right before stepping off the sidewalk to saunter across the street. The man glanced in his direction, doing a double-take when he noticed the dark blue-purple scars and staples holding his skin together. Touya was quite used to the stares and surprised looks, but that didn’t stop him from flipping the pretentious bastard the bird. The man flushed and busied himself with fake-shining his Porsche. At least he had some common sense, but that wouldn’t help when Touya decided to nab his precious car. 

A little bell twinkled weakly to signal Touya’s arrival into the electronics store. A ceiling fan circled slowly above his head, accented by the floor fan noisily spilling air towards the front counter. A man drinking Scotch grunted at Touya, not even bothering to look up from the pornogrpahic magazine he was flipping through. Touya almost felt bad slipping his hand inside his coat pocket to reach for his pistol, because he had to respect the sheer energy exuding from this old dude. 

“I ain’t got nothin’ for ya ta take, youngun,” the man huffed as Touya approached the counter. It made him smirk; this clearly wasn’t the old-timer’s first rodeo. “If yer just killin’ time until that prick abandons his Porsche next door, I would appreciate if ya just left a fella alone. I got a granddaughter to feed, and not enough money to put food on the table with you upstarts struttin’ in here every week stickin’ me up.” 

Touya slid his hand free of his pistol to lean up against the counter and lean his cheek in his hand. A street urchin had to have respect for a fellow man fallen under hard times. The old man’s gaze flickered up from his magazine finally, but when he realized that Touya wasn’t pointing a gun at him, he resumed ogling at the nude woman draped across the hood of a car in a very provocative and revealing pose. 

“Does your granddaughter know you’re spending money on porn mags instead of food?” 

“Tch. I nicked this from her good-for-nothin’ daddy’s stash,” the old man countered. He grabbed the plastic water bottle beside him, half-filled with the dark brown slosh of tobacco dip, and loudly spit into it. He snorted very unnattractively before giving Touya a tired look. “Does your momma know yer out here robbin’ poor old men blind?” 

“You’re mistaken, old man. I’m just out here robbing rich stuck-up folks blind,” Touya smirked. The old man nodded appreciatively before looking back to his magazine. “Ain’t got a momma, anyway. At least, not one that cares.” Frowning, Touya picked at the fraying lining of the counter while the old man snorted with an understanding nod. After basking in comfortable silence with the old-timer, just listening to the flip of the plasticy magazine pages and the rumbling of the old fan, Touya looked outside to see that the Porsche was finally abandoned. 

“Don’t get yerself caught,” the old man said without looking up when Touya sauntered back toward the front door. 

“Don’t rat me out,” Touya countered, turning around with a smirk to walk backwards out the door. The little bell chimed farewell as he spun on his heel, a bounce in his step as he approached the Porsche. It really was a sexy car, shining oceanic blue as the fading sunlight played over its surface. Touya didn’t even spare a glance around to see if he was being watched as he strutted up to the driver’s side and tried the door handle. Unbelievable, he thought incredulously as it unlatched without resistance and pulled open. What a smug bastard. 

Touya half-expected for the keys to fall out when he pulled down the sun blinder, but apparently the man wasn’t that foolish. Just as he was preparing to crawl into the car to start digging into its electrical innards, he heard a pained whimper. 

Eyes narrowed, he looked over the roof of the car in the direction he thought the noise had come from. An alley loomed before him, shrouded in darkness as the sun continued to sink lower and lower. He wondered if he’d imagined it until he heard it again— a high-pitched whine, this time followed by an agonized moan. Curious, he closed the door to the Porsche and slowly walked around the front of the car, angling his head to try and peer into the shadows. He could seek a wobbly, shadowy blob in the gloom, slumped beside a dull gray trash can. 

“Hello?” he called, stepping into the entrance of the alley. His shadow stretched across the dirt-coated cobblestone, long and ominous; it made the strange figure flinch and curl into a ball, another whimper echoing in the dark. Touya debated just letting it alone until he caught the sight of bright red smears on the ground. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking back up at the strange, trembling figure. Slowly, he walked forward, holding out his friends to maintain a non-threatening posture. “I know I look like a monster, but I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he joked. “If you’re injured, I can help ya.” 

The shadow wobbled beside the trash can, debating; it didn’t flee as Touya crept closer. He stepped aside, allowing the light to fall over the stranger. The last beams of the sunlight spilled in now that it was unobstructed, illuminating a girl huddled beside the trash can, her expression pained as she pressed her hand into her left side. Touya could see crimson blood oozing through her fingers and staining her white form-fitting dress. Her black stockings were scuffed and torn in several places, like she’d fallen several times, and she was missing one of her boots. Her wild blond hair was crimped and tangled with dirt, twigs, and leaves, and her face was a bruised and bloody mess. She’d clearly suffered a beating. 

Touya wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved in that. Whoever beat this girl to a pulp was probably nearby, and if this was a lover’s quarrel, that was the police’s business, not his. His ticket to at least a month of high living was parked just a few yards away; if he bothered with this girl, he certainly wouldn’t be able to make off with the Porsche and go sell it to his auto dealer. As if she could see his interest waning, the girl reached out to clutch at the tattered end of his coat. 

“Please,” she begged hoarsely. “Please don’t leave me…” 

Well, damn, he thought, his mouth twitching down into a frown. Sure, he was a piece of shit, but he wasn’t heartless; how could he refuse her, when she was bleeding out and pleading so pathetically? Her eyelashes fluttered as she let out another small groan, body swaying as she struggled to stay conscious. She lost the strength to continue to tug at the hem of his jacket, but as her hand slipped away, Touya quickly leaned down to gently grasp her hand. He ran the pad of his thumb over the scrapes and bruises over the top of her hand while he crouched down, looking the tired girl square in her hazy eyes. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you,” he promised quietly. Her eyes flooded with tears and then rolled down her cheeks, mixing with the blood and dirt staining her face. They then fluttered shut as the relief overwhelmed her, finally sending her into unconsciousness. Touya caught her when she slumped against him. “Jeez… What have you gotten me into?” he sighed with a wan smile and nestled her head into his shoulder; her labored breaths puffed against his scarred neck, but no answer. As gently as he could, he bundled her small body into his arms and stood. She whimpered, her fingers clawing into his shirt and blood staining the material. She snuggled into him, seeking his warmth and comfort, and Touya couldn’t help but smile slightly. 

“Clingy, aren’tcha?” he chuckled, adjusting her to make her fit more comfortably against him. He turned to look longingly at the Porsche. The owner had procured some company; the girl giggled and touched his arm seductively as she sat in the passenger seat, making sure to spread her legs just enough to give him a peek of the show to come. The man wasted no time in rushing to the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life and the tail lights flashed crimson in the gloom, the beams refracting like the wings of red butterflies as he zoomed off with what could have been Touya’s prize. 

Touya looked down at the unconscious girl sleeping fitfully in his arms. Would his consolation prize turn out to be better than the original, or was he getting himself into something far more troublesome than he imagined? He supposed he’d just have to find out. He turned on his heel to melt into the shadows, leaving the city streets he knew too well behind him.

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Love at First Fight (Sternclay)

 Several people requested #15 of the meet uglies for Sternclay: “I step out of the bathroom and right into the middle of a bar fight and you punch me accidentally so I punch back on instinct” SFW.

“FUCK!” Barclay slams back against the bathroom door, left hand held to the eye that just got the worst punch he’s had in years. He hasn’t survived on his own this long by being passive, and so he throws his right out in the direction of the punch. 

“Shit!” The man flicks his dark hair form his face, touches his lip, “sir, don’t do that again, and kindly get the fuck out of DUCK!” He grabs Barclay, yanking him down out of the path of a swinging pool cue.

“What the hell-”

His enemy-cum-protector is already moving again, grabbing the cue on it’s next swing and yanking it from the hand of the enraged biker swinging it. Then he shouts in pain as a thrown bottle connects with his neck and sends him to the ground.

“Fucking rat, we’re gonna skin you alive.” The man formerly holding the pool cue advances on the prone figure as he tries to stand. Barclay spots the insignia on the back of the biker’s jacket. Four numbers that mark him as a neo-nazi.

The man on the ground stands, forcing his feet into a fight stance and gripping the cue. Barclay spots something odd; on the very inside of his leather jacket are three stripes of color, so subtle most people probably miss them. Pink, blue, and white. 

Well, that settles whose side he’s on. 

“No more fucking chase, Lucky” the leader pulls his gun, “you’re going in the ground with the other moles.” 

Barclay grabs the nearest chair and swings it, sending the man to the ground, the gun clattering across the floor. The man who punched him is quickest, grabbing the gun, then his hand.

“You’ve fucked up.”

“You’re welcomeOW.” He’s thrown sideways as one of the lackeys tackles him. As he grapples, a second one decides to start whacking on his ribs with a table leg. The whacks stop after the dark-haired man throws a punch, before promptly stabbing Barclay’s attacker in the eye with the cue.

“Ahfuck, what the hell man?” He’s pulled across the room, ducking and weaving as best he can as the remaining gang gives chase and throws bottles and chairs at them. 

“I had it under control.” The man kicks the door shut and tips a motorcycle against it, “now please tell me you have a car.”

“That” he points to his pick-up, “and no you didn’t. You punched me, some dude minding his own business.” He jumps, frightened, as the man fires the gun into a row of motorcycles, puncturing as many tires as he can before the gang emerges.

“Keys. Now.” The man throws the gun away, but Barclay still doesn’t feel like arguing is an option. 

The man pulls him to the car, shoving him into the passenger seat, and starts the clunker, screeching out onto the near-empty highway. 

“Are you fucking kidnapping me?” Barclay’s question is shriller than he means it to be. 

“No! I’m saving you, because as far as they” he points to the rumbling mass in the rearview mirror, “are concerned, you helped me, which makes you a target. Now hold on.” 

Barclay yelps five profanities laced together as the man floors it down the dust-blown road.

“Don’t you have a fucking motorcycle too?”

“Not anymore. Shit” he fights with the clutch, “come on, just a little farther, we can make it.”

“You should not have that much faith in this truck, trust me.”

“Not helpful.” The man snaps between his teeth. The bikes are catching up to them, he can see the expressions on the rider’s faces and god this is how he dies, isn’t it?

The man pulls a hard left, spinning the car across the oncoming lane just as a row of four semis barrel towards them. 

Oh no, wait, this is how he dies. 

The truck barely clears, horns blaring in their ears as they careen onto a dirt road. The bikers, blocked by the row of semi’s, can’t follow.

“Made it.” The man grins.

“They’ll be able to follow our dust.” 

“Not if we don’t leave any.” Four rapid zigzags bring them to a dried up canal bed, and as the zoom along it he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to Barclay. 

“Do you have a pocket knife or something?”

“Uh huh.” 

“Slice that insignia off the back please. I like that jacket, but I’ll be damned if I wear that symbol longer than needed for my cover.”

Barclay fishes his multi-tool out of the glovebox, slices the little stitches until the four numbers come loose. The culvert ends and after a moment they’re back on a tiny, badly paved road. The man navigates towards a four story, run down building whose sign reads, “Amnesty Lodge” in the hot desert sun. 

“Here we are. Come on, let’s get out of the heat.”

Barclay follows him into a lobby, off to the right of which is a small bar and restaurant. A few occupants wave to his companion, who carves a straight line across the carpet to a back room.

“Glad you’re in one piece.” A woman with a pronounced southern drawl and a cowboy hat on her head nods at him as they walk in, “did you get--who the hell is this?”

“I...don’t know.”

“Names Barclay, ma’am. Your friend here decided to use my truck as a getaway car after a bar fight.”

“Looks like you were both in a fight.” The woman looks at the other man with worry.

“I, um, punched him on accident. My cover got blown and I had to start a fight to get out. Barclay tried to help me.”

“Huh, that was mighty foolish of you.”

“Would it kill anyone in this desert to say ‘thank you?” He growls. The woman raises an eyebrow, then laughs.

“Ha! I like you, big fella, and you can clearly take a punch.”

“And throw one too.” The man rubs his jaw. 

“Could use more of that type around here these days. Alright, you can stay here ‘til this blows over. I’ll let you two fellas get patched up.” She waves her hand, then puts it on the desk to gather up the small, black pouch the stranger sets in front of her. 

Soon Barclay is sweating his ass off in a stuffy motel room, all teal blue and adobe brown, as his host knocks the air conditioner into action. When it finally groans to life, the man turns and looks, for the first time, unsure of himself. 

“Right. So. Um. You’re in the Amnesty Lodge, which is a, um, hideaway of sorts on top of a normal motel. My name is Joseph. Apologies for punching you.” 

“In the bar they called you something else.”

“Lucky was my cover name.” The man pulls off his t-shirt, revealing bruises and a lean body with noticeable lines of muscle. In the amber-tinted light of the room, he looks like he stepped out of a greaser daydream; his hair still tousled from the wind and the fight, lip and nose still sporting dried blood, and regarding Barclay with a concern that should undercut how badass he looks but doesn’t.

“I’m going to shower, then we should get you in an ice bath. Your upper body took a lot of hits.”

Barclay rolls his shoulders and immediately regrets it, “ow, fuck, yeah, think the adrenaline wore off.”

Joseph grabs the phone, calls down to the lobby for a bag of ice before disappearing into bathroom. The water stops just as there’s a knock on the door.

Barclay opens it and finds a young woman with a black and red pompadour smiling at him. Behind her a stocky man sporting a “Joshua Tree National Park” t-shirt is holding a huge bag of ice.

“Hi! You must be the new guy.” The young woman waves at him.

“Uh, I guess.” Barclay takes the ice when the man holds it out.

“I’m Aubrey, and this is Duck.”

“Howdy.” Another southerner. Weird.

“Hold on you two.” Joseph appears behind him, holds the patch from his jacket out over Barclay’s shoulder, “here, Aubrey, need something to burn?”

“Not in the desert she don’t!”

“Relax, I’ll burn it in a trashcan or something. Anyway, Duck’s driving me in to town for my show. Do you need anything?”

“All good for now. Thanks, Aubrey.” Joseph waves politely and shuts the door. Barclay turns with the ice and finds the man wearing only a towel. Manages to push aside the sudden, intense desire to lick the stray droplets of water from his body and follow Joseph into the bathroom. In spite of his protests, Joseph sets the bath up for him (“it’s the least I can do for getting you into all this”). He’s down to his boxers, dusty clothes piled on the floor, as the man adds, “sorry, one more minute, then I can go so you’ll feel comfortable.”

Barclay is tired and sticky and out of patience, “Fuck it, you’ve already punched me and stolen my car, really don’t care if you see my dick.”

“I mean if that’s, oh, oh okay then.” Joseph laughs, looking quickly at the faucet as Barclay steps out of his boxers. The man tries and fails, twice, not to glance at Barclay as he gets in the tub. Any desire to flaunt what he’s got for his handsome man of mystery evaporates when he hits the water.

“FUCKSHIT, goddamit that’s cold.” He lowers himself in, “this better fucking work.”

“It will. This is not the first time I’ve had to deal with injuries.”

“What the fuck do you even do?” He grits his teeth, squeezing the edge of the bathtub.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

“What?” Barclay instinctively backs away.

A soft chuckle, “Yeah, I get that a lot. I work for the Department of Unexplained Phenomena, which leads to some interesting assignments.”

“I’m not, like, gonna get in trouble for assaulting an officer of the law, right?”

“No. Barclay.” Joseph sets his hand atop his own, “you really helped me today, punches aside. Besides I, well, let’s just say I don’t solely answer to the U.S government. I’ll tell you more later, I promise.”

Eventually his time in ice-hell ends and Joseph offers him the bed if he wants to nap. He does, passes out in his clean boxers before Joseph even finishes asking if he wants lunch. 

He wakes up to an empty room. An empty, locked room. 

“Shit” he pulls on his shirt, furiously yanking on the doorknob, “shitshitshit. Hey!” He bangs on the door, “hey anyone out there?”

Footsteps approach, and the door clicks open. He’s ready to run, but freezes when he sees it’s Joseph, holding a tray with two plates of food.

“Are you okay?”

“Okay?” He splutters, “you locked me in!”

“It’s a necessary precaution. We’ve only known each other half a day, and while you seem trustworthy and I know I can handle myself, if you were a risk I needed to keep the others safe.”

“And keep me fucking prisoner?”

“....Yes a little. Look, Barclay” he sets the tray down on the desk, “there are a lot of dangerous things at play right now, and I can’t risk you running off back to the normal world and accidentally giving something away. Just be patient, okay? As long as you’re here, you're under Mama’s protection. And under mine. And I promise I won’t let any harm come to you.”

Something frightened and vulnerable wells up in his chest, and he grabs one of the plates, “Okay.”

They eat in relative silence and after Joseph sets the plate outside he asks, “do you want to watch something? One of the few stations we get shows old monster movies this time of night.”

Barclay nods, joins Joseph on the bed as a giant mantis rampages across the screen. 

“Eesh, they fucked up the scale on that shot.” He laughs to himself.

“No kidding, look, you can even see it knock over what’s so clearly a little cardboard human.” 

“Gotta say, not sure why tanks don’t work on it. Mantises aren’t that tough, right, even accounting for radiation or whatever?”

“You know, I have no idea. I’ll ask Duck; he might know. Or he might roll his eyes so hard he strains them. Again. We all watched ‘Day of the Triffids” and he spent the whole time yelling about how that’s not how carnivorous plants work.”

They watch three movies before Barclay starts dozing off. The shorter man hops up, makes up the pull out couch, and Barclay gladly falls into it, waving off Joseph’s offer to sleep there so he can have the bed. He dreams of orange, glowing eyes, just like he does every night. 

When he wakes up the next morning, Joseph is in a finely tailored black suit, combing his hair back in the mirror. 

“Where y’going all fancy?” Barclay mumbles.

“Work. I should be back tonight. Take it easy, okay, you’re still pretty bruised.” 

“Kay.” Barclay nods and falls back asleep. When he finally trudges downstairs in search of food, he finds Mama in the bar. She pours him coffee, asks how he slept, and brings him a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. 

He takes a bite, grimaces, “Uh, Mama, I don’t mean to be rude but are you sure this isn’t rancid?”

“Yep.” She tops off his coffee, “just can’t cook for shit. Jake does his best, so does Moira, but they have a hard time too.”

“Please let me help.” Barclay eyes his eggs suspiciously, “I’m not bad in the kitchen, worked a lot of restaurants over the years.”

“That so? Alright big fella, come show me what you got.” She tosses him a faded green apron and he follows her into the kitchen. He whips up pancake batter, scrambles eggs, and sticks the cast iron pans into the oven to season properly. Fifteen minutes later, he slides a plate to Mama and makes one for himself.

“Holy shit” she says through a mouthful of pancake, “fuck, you’re hired. I’ll tell Joseph he don’t gotta worry about coverin your lodgin. Assumin you can keep up with them.” She points to the heads poking around the kitchen door.

“Is it lunchtime dude? Because something smells good.”

“Well I’ll be, guess it is” she points to the clock, “let’s see how you are at lunch.”

Barclay spends the next two hours making sandwiches, salad, and staring a stock for tomorrow. He also makes two cobblers that are gone as soon as they come out of the oven. As he takes orders and serves and cooks, the other lodge residents trickle in, and suddenly he’s in the midst of a happy crowd. Dani, Aubrey’s girlfriend, and her cousin Jake sit at the counter and talk to him, while Mama wanders in and out from her office. One of the odder visitors is a tall man with a wide smile who introduces himself as Indrid before taking an entire can of whipped cream from the fridge and carrying it out to his trailer at the back of the building. 

As he’s washing up, Mama comes in and leans against the counter.

“Well, they all seem to like you fine. Which makes me wonder; what are you runnin from, Barclay?”

“What makes you think I’m not just drifting?” He dries a plate, sets it in the stack. 

“I been running this lodge awhile now. The folks who fit right in? They’re always on the run from somethin’. And you ain’t in a hurry to leave, and you ain’t made no mention of family or friends who you gotta let know you’re alright.”

“I, uh, I had some trouble when I was younger. It followed me around, can’t seem to shake it even now.”

Mama nods, satisfied.

“You mind telling me how having a bunch of folks on the run works with an FBI agent under your roof?”

“Joseph’s a double agent; he works for the UP, does most of what they tell ‘im, but his loyalty is here with the folks at the Lodge. Says he sleeps better at night helpin’ us instead of them. Guess at times, like when you met him, he’s kind of a triple agent.”

Now it’s Barclay’s turn to nod. Mama smiles at him, leaves him to his kitchen. It’s not until the end of the dinner rush that he hears, “I’d hoped you’d find a place here.”

Joseph leans against the doorframe, “sorry I missed dinner.”

Barclay proudly produces a  plate of pie, “here, saved it for you.”

Joseph eats as they walk to the room, moaning between bites and licking his fork clean. It seems only natural for them to settle on the bed together, to turn on the T.V and heckle it, to make each other laugh. Only natural for Barclay to feel safe enough to fall asleep on his shoulder. 

And when sirens wake him up, all it takes is Joseph’s arm around him and the words, “don’t worry, I’m here” to send him back to sleep.

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

“How come you decided to help Mama?” They’re as cuddled as the stuffy, hot air allows, Joseph having declared Barclay’s chest the superior kind of pillow.

“I was stationed at Area 51 for an assignment. There was an alien, he’d come through what he described as a gate to our world, and said his name was Vincent. I was the only one who called him that, the others treated him inhumanely. I helped him escape, and he connected me with Mama. She’s been helping aliens for awhile now.”

“That kinda explains Indrid.”

“Indeed. I learned that the UP was working on ways to trap or track aliens from the same homeworld. We decided I was best used as a spy, rather than defecting entirely.”

“Wow.” Barclay cuddles closer, “I always believed in aliens. Sympathized with them too. Dunno, I lost my folks when I was a baby, bounced around from system to system for years, ended up on the street at eighteen. Only thing I ever had connected to a home was this” he holds up his left wrist, on which sits a bracelet with a small orange crystal at the center, “I guess it was dad’s. Never have been able to get it off. Just...I never felt like I had a home.”

Joseph cups his cheeks, “why not make here your home?”

Barclay rests their foreheads together, “I like the way you think, agent.”

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

“What did you need to show me?” Barclay shuts the door to Mama’s office. Dani and Indrid are inside as well, watching him as Mama removes something from a secret compartment of her desk. 

“Joseph just got back, and he brought somethin with him we’ve been worried about for a long time. A way of spottin aliens among us. But that ain’t why you’re here. Dani, lights.”

In the dark she switches on a small, glowing green rod. Barclay stares in awe as Indrid and Dani’s shadows change; Dani’s grows taller, bulkier, and Indrid’s sprouts wings and antennae. 

Mama, shadow the same as always, points, “look behind you, big fella.”

It’s not his shadow. It’s the shadow of something much bigger, with shaggy fur and an ape-like shape.

“I’m...I’m not human? How is that possible, I, I’ve always looked like this, like a guy, I have pictures of my parents and they’re human too, this, this can’t be right.” He whirls in confusion as Dani switches the lights on and sets a hand on his shoulder. 

“Our kind wear charms to disguise ourselves. That is yours.” Indrid points to the bracelet, “I suspect your parents knew you’d be on your own, and one of their last acts was to enchant it so you could not remove it by accident. No doubt they hoped to give you a safe life.”

“I, I want to see, can you get it off?”

“I need some time to prepare. In the interim, there is someone who needs to see you.” He points upwards and Barclay sprints out the door. 

“Joseph, fuck, you’re never gonna believe-” He stops, immediately drops to his knees by the bed where Joseph is slowly bandaging himself.

“Shit, fuck, what happened?” He takes the gauze from shaking fingers and dresses the wound. 

“A bit of a misstep; another double agent had tried to take the device I stole for Mama, so I had to fight him and he was very good with his knife. I’m okay, they’re not deep, but lord almighty do they sting.” 

“Thank fuck you’re okay, fuck, Joseph, I couldn’t deal if I lost you, especially not now.” He carefully hugs his waist, rests his head on his shoulder, “I found out I’m an alien.”

“Oh.” Joseph gasps, “that’s good! I mean, in the sense you might be able to learn more about your family.” 

“It doesn’t freak you out?”

“No, why would it?”

“I mean, there’s a difference between helping aliens out and, uh, uh, like” oh god why did he start that sentence?

Joseph cups his chin, moving it so they’re face to face, “and wanting to be with one?”

“Yes.” Barclay says meekly.

“Human or not, I want to be with you. I’ve spent the last week dithering on whether or not to tell you because I knew this mission was dangerous. I chickened out in the end but, well” he leans forward, presses their lips together.

Tears he can’t explain escape Barclay’s eyes as he kisses back. He’s home, he’s home, he’s home and Joseph wants him, is kissing him over and over, sweet words ghosting along his skin. Then the lips are on his cheeks, kissing the tears away as hands stroke his hair. 

“I want you so bad.” Is all he manages to croak out and as he blushes, embarrassed by insufficient eloquence, Joseph kisses him again. This time is harder, tongue slipping filthy promises between Barclay’s as his fingers tease along his head and throat.

“That’s a promise for later. And this” Joseph murmurs, grinning before kissing under his eye, “is an apology for punching you.”

Barclay chuckles, “babe, if it meant I’d get to fall for you all over again, I’d take that punch in a heartbeat.”

[enigma-im]

Sticks and Stones

Rating: Teen  Relationship: Fae X Female!Human Warning: Strong language, Teasing, Flirting Teasing

Word Count: 904

a couple converses during a party.

———————————————————————————————————–

“This must be the first party you have been to that isn’t selling beer,” Cosmo leans against the wall next to me. I barely regard him with a sideways glance. Continuing to people watch from the sidelines.

“Maybe that’s why it’s so droll, I knew it was missing something but I couldn’t put my finger on it,” I sip at my wine.

“Figures you wouldn’t be having fun here, there aren’t copious amounts of raunchy dancing or orgies in the back room. That is what happened at the brothel you use to work at, right,” he pokes. I see him glance at me over his shoulder. I pay him no mind as I look over at a group of royals conversing. Seeing two giving each other eyes, perhaps trying to figure out how to leave without seeming rude.

“Don’t act like your people are above orgies. You people flaunt your cocks and tits around constantly I wouldn’t be surprised to walk in on one sometime today. Hell, saw you training with Simon in the yard I could feel the tension from the balcony. Was shocked I didn’t see him bend you over and throw out some stress,” I smirk at him. He scoffs at my words, taking a sip from his flute before he counters.

“And you call me the pervert, you see a shirtless man and you wait on the sideline for his dick to make an appearance. Quite the dirty mind you have there, been spending too much time around common whores lately,” he chuckles.

“I have been speaking to a few of your past lovers, yes. Tell me, have you ever been with someone your father didn’t have to pay for,” I cock a brow up at him.

He leans down near me,“ do you count?”

“No, he been paying me under the table. Think he calls it babysitter’s pay,” I grin up at him.

“Such a shame, and here I thought you were here for me. How foolish of me to assume a dog can be anything more,” he sits back up looking bored. I nearly glare up at him but think better of it.

“Well, they say the prince is nothing more than a pretty face, can’t hold it against you to think when your prick makes most of your choices,” I down the rest of my wine, “be a doll and get me another drink?”

Without looking he gives me his drink and takes mine, “do pace yourself, you are a slobby drunk.”

“Funny for you to care since its the only time you get lucky,” I laugh as I take a sip of his wine,“ besides how am I suppose to enjoy this stuffy get together you call a party?”

“How dare you accuse me of putting this on, you can thank my sire for this devastating get together. You wound me by thinking I wouldn’t throw an amazing party,” he scoffs.

“Yea, I should have known on the lack of shirtless men that you didn’t arrange this,” I chuckle. I finish off his wine, starting to feel the warm buzz in my head.

“Like you wouldn’t enjoy that you simple woman. Shamelessly flirt with every single one after you get some alcohol in you,” he rolls his eyes.

“Jealous that I’d flirt with the help before id flirt with you,” I bump his shoulder. He looks down at me through his lashes, fighting back a smile.

“Here I was under the impression we were flirting, don’t see any rendezvous in my future then,” he cocks a brow.

“Got to get me good and drunk before ill consider touching you,” I lazily swirl my empty glass in one hand.

“Like I’d give you the pleasure of forgetting our joining,” he laughs, “I’d want you to remember every awful second before you pass out.”

“Pass out from the drink or the awful sex,” I rest my head against his shoulder. I feel looser and calm from his presence or the wine.

“Why not both, I’m optimistic tonight,” he wraps his arm around my waist. Pulling me close and pressing a kiss to my head. “ would you like to leave and partake in a minute-long lovemaking, I’m feeling well-rested today,” he whispers near my ear.

“Minute long, you are optimistic tonight. You know your record is 45 seconds,” I taunt.

“I was referring to you but alright. Either way, let’s leave this pre-game and get to the main event,” he purrs against my neck.

“Yea, alright. I can go for some necking in your room, going to have to be on your best behavior to get your 1 minute of fame,” I grab his arm and lead him out the room.

“Think you can last that long, maybe you are the optimist one,” he chuckles as he follows.

“You are the one getting lucky but I’m the optimistic one. Funny how you think,” I drag him out the room. As we get into the hallway and far enough from the ballroom I get him against a wall. Dragging him down for a sloppy kiss. He cups my elbow and sides as he holds me close.

“You are too perfect,” he mumbles between kisses.

“Honest,” I lean back with a smirk.

He smiles back,“ honest.” I can’t help but grin widely to match his. I lean back in and take his lips for mine. God, I love this man.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sometimes i have ideas for a couple but no story. This one i imagined two people who at first glance hate each other. they pick and insult each other often, sometimes even yelling. At second glance you can see the tiny smirks when the other gets in a good jab, the loving looks when the other cant see. At third glance you can tell how madly they are in love with each other. that is Cosmo and Nora. two bickering lovebirds who drive everyone around them crazy with their flirting.

I wrote basically their entire lives out, probably post the choppy story on Archive. I love them so much.