#I mask!! a lot!! if my friend says 'oh nah she always seems on top of things' is that going to preclude diagnosis?

[bugfeelings]

Seeking an adhd diagnosis is like "bring someone from your childhood, someone from your adulthood, your 3 most recent report cards, $500, and your firstborn to an appointment you had to call the same practice 5 separate times to be given after following a breadcrumb trail of referring providers. you may or may not receive the diagnosis"

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

chained, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You ever fuck someone wearing a collar and a chain... that's attached to the hot girl with the demonic grin? No? Just Min Yoongi? In his defense, he really likes a bad bitch.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; yup, there are Marilyn Manson and Slipknot references; D/s smut (fem reader, black leather collars and a chain leash, [a lot of] choking, saliva everywhere, handjob, m-receiving oral, slight edging, hair pulling, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - rapper, sub!Yoongi x goth (also kinda his manager? lol) dom!reader; kinda PWP; Yoongi's POV

--

feel like I'm hexed, yeah, that bitch bad collar on her neck and her ass real fat

Most people would say, “Nah, dude, don’t mess with girls like that.”

Most people would say, “She’s fucking scary, why the hell would you think she’s hot?”

Most people would, but Min Yoongi wasn’t most people.

“I want to play a game.”

He tilted his head. “Then let’s play a game.”

She grinned, wild hair over her left eye. “Yeah?”

The first time he met her, he was at a bar and a woman was chatting him up, engaging him in conversation he didn’t want to be in. Fuck. The only reason he came was to accompany his friends, but they were all much more extroverted than he was and had already wandered off with potentials of the night. He didn’t want a potential. He just wanted a damn shot of whiskey and then he was going to slink into a corner and pretend nobody existed.

He minimized his responses to, “Mhm” and “Yeah,” but the woman wasn’t getting the hint and the bartender was busy. Sigh.

All of a sudden, a short man with a white, mannequin-like mask appeared. The white mask was painted with black streaks. He had stringy, long black and red hair and was wearing black coveralls.

Yoongi and the woman jumped away from each other, disconcerted by the appearance of the strange, tiny man.

“Bartender! Hey, real quick, can you get my friend here a drink?”

And then, fuck.

Black leather jacket, silver hardware. Tight fitted white top, so shredded the black bra underneath was visible. Short black pleated skirt. Ripped tights. Thick black boots with chains. Yoongi felt his eyes widen, looking up and down at this curvy frame. Wild hair, lush tits, juicy thighs, an ass that could put anyone in a trance with the way those hips swayed. Dark makeup, playful grin with red-stained lips.

A black choker with at least eight-centimeter spikes.

A pure white contact lens in her left eye.

“Hey, you can’t cover your face here,” a patron interrupted. “That’s creepy.”

The small man in the mask didn’t reply. The woman in black, however, swatted a hand like she was whacking away a fly.

“He’s part of the entertainment. Buzz off.”

“Oh, yes, you’re the band’s drummer, right?” The bartender rushed over. “Sorry, sorry. What will it be?”

The masked man said nothing.

“Double shot whiskey on the rocks,” the woman replied for him. “Did I get it right this time, Hana?”

A single nod from that stringy head.

“What about you?”

Yoongi jumped, startled the woman in black leather was addressing him. She cocked her head to the confused bartender. “You’ve been standing here ignored for the past ten minutes. I noticed because I was waiting for the guys to suit up to bring Hana to the bar.” She waved her hand. “Come on. Give me your order. I got you.”

“O… Oh. Same thing.”

She nodded. “Ya heard him. And don’t just only pay attention to cute girls, bartender.”

The bartender’s cheeks flushed. “A-Ah, I apologize! I’ll have them ready right away.”

The woman sighed and shook her head, completely ignoring the chatty woman who was making eyes at Yoongi, trying to get near him again. Yoongi pretended not to notice, stepping closer to the short, creepy man. The white mask didn’t move. The woman leaned down a bit because the man was shorter than she was with her height and platform boots.

“Don’t be takin’ nothing with the whiskey now. I’m treatin’ ya,” she chuckled under her breath.

Yoongi noticed the slight satoori. It made her voice a little deep and gruff.

“Shut it.”

She snickered. “Made you talk, Hana.”

The white mask went back to being silent.

She sighed and stood back up turning her attention to Yoongi. “Sorry about my friend here. He doesn’t like talking or people. I’m trying to get him to be more personable. Is it working?”

Yoongi blinked.

“Uh.”

Damn, every time she smiled, he felt a thrill shoot up his spine. White teeth showing, pink tongue peeking out between them.

It just seemed a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

“I know it’s not working. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The masked man might as well have been a mannequin with how still he was.

“You’re his manager?” Yoongi found himself asking.

She shrugged. “Kind of? I actually just own the studio space the band records. But I like coming to the gigs sometimes if I can. Good excuse to get a little drunk, eh? Plus, I’m trying to find musicians to rent out the other spaces.”

Fuck.

Was it his lucky day or what?

“I’m looking for a studio space to record my music, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised. “No shit? You wanna talk some business?”

Oh, they talked business to bass and drums thundering the bar.

Later, they talked about some… other things too. What could he say? Yoongi liked a bad bitch. She wore leather, she owned cluster of studio spaces – “well, they ain’t mine, they’re my dad’s, but he’s never here, he’s off gambling and chasing booty, I think” – she gave him a fair price, and she loved to suck dick.

Yoongi didn’t find out about that last bit until later.

Right now, she was clipping the end of a silver chain to the collar around his neck.

It was heavy, probably metal. The collar he was wearing was thick black leather, with a steel ring resting against his collarbones. Yoongi was pretty sure she was doing a number on him. He wore a lot of black, yeah. He liked leather jackets too. But being around her presence was messing with his head and he was pretty sure he was being influenced by her energy. He used to hate his eye shape and his dark circles, but when he saw himself in the mirror with her tangled around him, riding his dick, he found himself thinking he didn’t look so bad after all. He looked good standing with the woman with the white contact lens and the demonic grin.

Maybe he was a little crazy, but everyone was a little crazy. Yoongi wasn’t worried about something like that.

Right now, she licked her teeth with that lithe, pink tongue of hers.

The other end of the chain was connected to the collar around her neck.

“You wanna play?” she drawled.

Fuck, he loved that shit. Her voice got slightly deep and throaty when she spoke in satoori. He wasn’t sure if she noticed it or not. It must be from her father. She mentioned that she had been raised by her dad – “sporadically, he liked to travel and, by travel, I mean gamble and chase ass, although surprisingly he didn’t come back with more kids, so I guess he learned his lesson” – but she was kind of the same way.

Not the gambling bit.

He didn’t really mind it though. She didn’t try to hide anything and he encouraged her to be herself. Plus, no one was getting the treatment he got. Yoongi was pretty sure about that, because when she fucked around, she did it in public. He had to be the one to tell her to take it upstairs and go for the throat.

Alright, not the throat. The dick.

In some way, Yoongi felt that was her way of asking if he approved, because she never took it upstairs and out of his sight unless he gave her the go ahead.

Right now, her tongue extended and wiggled in the air, glossy and slick with her saliva.

He smirked, open-mouthed and with a flick of tongue at the edge of his teeth.

She gripped the chain and yanked him by the neck to her face, crashing that demonic grin to his lips.

Like an injection or a spell, it gave him a rush, the firm leather snapping against his neck, chained to her, both wearing the collars, but she was always in control, always, and he liked it like that, liked the way she traced his lips with her powerful tongue, her saliva his aphrodisiac, before she captured his lips and rolled her body into his lap, skin to skin, moving like a snake, his gasp against her devouring mouth, her bare ass sliding on his thigh, fuck, so sexy, so soft, so bouncy, one hand on his face and another on his shoulder, fingers spread out and tendons flexing.

He liked to say she was the angel that held up her blinding halo with devil horns.

She yanked on the chain and Yoongi sucked in a breath, closing one eye as she licked his cheek, ending with a kiss on his brow. Cold air chilled his wet skin, making him shiver.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

Pretty sure neither of them believed in a god but it got the point across.

He raised his hand and she smacked his wrist down, pinning it to the bed.

“Nuh uh.”

Yoongi wasn’t really expecting her to let him.

He raised his other hand. It was immediately swatted down onto the bed, her eyebrow cocking.

“Naughty, naughty.”

He cocked an eyebrow back, defying.

She leaned down and snatched the chain in her mouth, tugging on it with teeth and neck, narrowing her eyes. The white contact lens on her left eye gleamed under her lashes. She always wore it except right before sleeping. He once asked her why and she had shrugged.

“Mental security, I guess.”

Now, she growled like an animal.

“Down.”

She looked like she was about to headbutt him. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He lowered himself slowly, her mouth holding the chain taut until he was laying on the bed. She grinned, pleased at his obedience. Yoongi was quite sure that she was probably the closest being to a succubus that he would ever encounter with the violent thrill of arousal she was giving him with those plush lips and white teeth around the silver chain, pink tongue circling around the metal to tease him.

Maybe he was the crazy one for being turned on by it.

She dropped the chain on his chest. He flinched, the wet, heavy metal thudding onto his sternum, right against his pounding heartbeat. She rubbed her thigh against his balls and hardening cock, raising her head, chain following, higher, higher, letting go of his hands, arching her back, tits up, until it was fully taut between his neck and hers, the sides of the collars forcefully digging into his neck and hers. Yoongi did not lift his head from the bed to reduce the tension. Her devilish smile widened. A chain tug-of-war between collar to collar, both of them choking the other.

She lifted her hand and licked her palm, saturating it with saliva.

She reached down and wrapped her long fingers around his stiff length.

Didn’t say he could touch her though, so Yoongi didn’t.

“Think you can last longer than last time?”

He clenched his jaw. “Maybe.”

She pulled harder and he locked his neck and shoulders, clutching the sheets with a sharp gasp, pleasure shooting up his core, firm, strong strokes up and down his cock, fuck, fuck, every damn time, that second of cold as her saliva soaked his skin and then it warmed up fast to hot, slippery ecstasy, hard and getting harder, his pre-cum mixing with her saliva, staring at her hard nipples and juicy hips, knees around one of his thighs, shaking her ass when she noticed him looking, changing the pace, addicted to the feeling of her hands. He could feel the bones and the hard muscle of her grip and, sure, that didn’t sound sexy, but it felt incredible, adding stimulation in that inescapable hold and paired with slickness, choking his cock slightly and he craved every second of it, thighs tense and hard, growling in his throat as he dug his head into the mattress, pulling the chain for all it was worth, lightheaded now, the leather cutting in, probably leaving a mark, locking eyes with mischievous orbs and an impish smirk, the sides of her collar also cutting into the sides of her neck, choking herself as she was choking him while jacking him off.

Black haze threatened the edges of his vision.

He was going to pass out or cum. Yoongi didn’t care which happened first.

“F… Fuck!”

Yoongi snapped his jaw shut and shot up her forearm and down his length, strained groan of her name leaking past his teeth, bolts of pleasure invading his nerves all the way up to his scalp, blossoming into an erotic haze. She snapped her head forward. Oxygen flooded his brain, his jaw going slack with a moan, his eyes rolling back, high so high his whole body shuddered, barely registering her movement, hearing the lewd slurps of her drinking up his cum.

Wet.

Hot.

“Shit!”

Her mouth enveloped his twitching length, burying it deep into her throat, slathering tongue and satisfied hiss, chain clinking against his stomach and hitting his trembling balls, twisting her head so the chain wouldn’t cause any damage to them as she began to suck, flashes of tongue flickering out of the edges of those plush lips, grazing his crotch and scrotum, pointedly staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

She bounced her hips when she noticed him looking, shaking her ass as she sucked his dick.

Yoongi grinned.

His vision was barely focusing, trying to recover from orgasm in the midst of the intoxicating pleasure of her soft and tight mouth, tongue rubbing under the head of his cock, causing it to jerk and swell in the back of her throat and then she thrust it all the way back in there, taking him impossibly deep, sinfully moaning around his cock, vibrating it with lust. He glanced at her hands, fingers spread out and joints locked, tendons flexed, pointed black fingernails clawing into the sheets.

The heat flaring over his abdomen and hips was rising to his limit once more.

Yoongi panted her name, hoarse and breathless, realizing his Daegu satoori was suddenly more prominent in his disheveled state.

“I’m gonna cum–”

She popped her mouth off his cock and he snapped his teeth, snarling.

“You bitch.”

She grinned, wiggling her tongue, thick plops of saliva dripping down and hitting his flinching hips and throbbing cock, the head an angry purple-red from being so roughly stimulated after orgasm. The white contact gleamed alongside the devious glint in her right eye, black pupils blown out, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

It didn’t matter who was on top because she knew she was always on top.

To be clear, Yoongi didn’t take shit from anyone without a fight. It got him in trouble sometimes, but this particular brand was trouble was the kind he liked. She gave him a long period of two seconds to roll the condom down before tangling one hand in the metal chain and the other in his black hair, pulling both in opposite directions. He hissed dangerously, plunging his hard cock into the wet, waiting heat, scorched by her roughness and his desire, one of her legs on his shoulder and the other around his waist, smacking their bodies together with violent force.

The tip of her tongue traced her teeth, grinning demonically.

“Come on, you said you were gonna play the game with me, Yoongi,” she chuckled, naughtily mocking him, voice deep and rough from her satoori.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” he growled in kind, low and gravelly.

She pulled on the collar much harder than his hair, but both were equally arousing, prickling pain on his scalp and circulation cut short once again, brief flashes of oxygen bleeding through with his aggressive thrusts, the excess chain knocking against her collarbones, just another layer of sound along with slapping hips and squelching juices, her velvet walls clenching around him with every descent, not going fast so he could last, burying deep and hitting her hard. She winced, guttural growl at the base of her throat and the side of his lips quirked up.

“Too much?” he taunted.

“I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” she grunted, jerking her hips up and brutally squeezing the head deep inside.

“Fuck…”

He knew she wouldn’t let him do anything she didn’t want, so he kept going, her wrist flicking up with every thrust, leather collar snapping into his skin, thinning his breath to gasps at the stinging pain, the hand in his hair releasing him, messy black strands invading his vision, but he had no time to complain, groaning as her nails dug into his back and dragged up, inflamed hot lines that shot into his system and fed his adrenaline. His fists bunched the sheets, locking his shoulders, clenching his jaw, flexing his neck, and now he was being choked again, consistently this time, oxygen thinning out once more, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Her smile sent thrills up his spine and they split at the base of his head, tendrils of vicious desire numbing all sensations except lust, gluttonous for the pain that nourished more pleasure, greedy for everything she forced him to take, too prideful to ask her to loosen her hold, desperate not to give in to her wrath, usually slothful but now using every fiber of his strength to push himself to the limit, high getting higher knowing that anyone would be envious of how good he got it from that fiendish playful grin and hot delicious body under him, collared together in joined sin.

She let out a low moan, basking in him, feeding his need to satisfy hers.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

He managed to get out half of a breath, staring into those irises, one real, one covered in white.

“Fuck, your voice gets me off every time,” he hissed.

He slammed his hips down and she clamped around his entire length, releasing the chain, both of their heads tipping back, his in the air and hers into the pillows, moans in unison as he shot into the condom and she released onto his twitching length and skin, coating him with slickness. The scent of sex permeated the air, his previous orgasm soaked into the sheets already and hers smearing with it as their hips descended, his throbbing cock pulsed by her flinching walls, her thighs tense around his waist and his hard ones against her ass, making sure to lean forward so he didn’t fall out, savoring every second of their joined bodies.

The hotel room was certainly getting some important use.

Yoongi remembered he had been annoyed when she said he should rent one since the potential gig was rather far away and transportation so late at night was going to be a bitch. He almost didn’t do it, but she rolled her eyes and booked it anyway, triumphant when he sold out the venue. Not a huge venue, but bigger than he had ever performed before.

He still said she had to make it up to him for making him travel farther than he originally wanted.

As usual, Yoongi was not disappointed.

“Housekeeping is gonna be pissed,” she chuckled. “Smells like sex.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“How’s your throat?”

“Pretty sure rapping strains the inside of my throat, not the outside.”

She chuckled. “Now you hurt all over.”

“Good.”

Yoongi closed the distance and kissed that smirk, metal chain sandwiched between their hot, sweaty skin, the steel rings of the black leather collars clinking against each other.

--

masterpost

-

the lyrics in the beginning are from hot demon b!tches near u!! by CORPSE ft night lovell

[stoney-siren]

May I Have This Dance? PART 2 (Sal Fisher x Reader)

 Link to Part 1 

Summary: After you confront Ash on your crush on Sal, she takes you to some friends who she believes to have good advice on what you should do. Meanwhile Sal is trying to work up the courage to asking you out.

Warnings: Swearing, possible mentions of drug use, slight angst?

It had been a few days after your conversation with Ashley, that day she had taken you to go meet up with Maple and Chug, who were somehow excellent advice givers. Not only that, but they knew how to keep a secret too, you weren’t too trustful of them at first, but after a couple of days with their lips sealed, you started to trust them a bit more.

So there you were sitting in your apartment with Ash, your mom was out getting groceries, so it gave you two some time to try and plan out how to ask Sal to the prom. Little did you two know that Larry and Sal were doing the exact same thing on the fourth floor in Sals room.

“I was thinking of either wearing this purple dress I have, or a green one.” Ash commented as she messed with her polaroid camera.

“I think the purple would really compliment your eyes.” Ash smiled at your feedback and nodded her head in agreement.

“What do you think Larry, Todd, and Sal are doing?” She questioned, getting up and sitting beside you at your desk and taking a look at what you were writing.

You have been spending almost the whole day writing down ideas on how to ask out Sal, but everything that came to mind just sounded either cheesy, dumb, or both.

“Probably playing some video game on Sals gear boy.” You responded, sitting next to Sal and watching over his shoulder as he attempted to beat a video game was one of your favorite things to do, you found it adorable how he celebrated every time he beat a level.

“Speaking of Sal, these ideas of yours are starting to get pretty creative!” Ash took the paper you had been scribbling on from the desk and started to read what you had been writing. 

Quickly, you snatched the paper back, even though you appreciated the compliment, you couldn’t help but imagine every way Sal could turn down every idea you came up with.

Sal stood in front of a mirror in Larrys room, messing with his hair and thinking of how he’d style it for prom.

“You should do a bun, I heard a lot of people find those attractive.” Larry commented from somewhere in the room, he himself was occupying his time with a painting he was working on.

“Nah dude.” He let his hair fall to his shoulders as he removed his pigtails, messing with the blue strands in his face.

“They’ll probably like your hair regardless what it looks like! If you wanna go with something mature then maybe you should just wear your hair down.” He continued to suggest from his easel.

“Yeah maybe,” he began, touching his prosthetic. “Larry, what if I want to kiss them?” That caught his attention real fast.

“Then do it bro! Nothings holding you back, unless of course they don’t want to.” He set his brush down and made his way over to the mirror, putting his hands on Sals shoulders.

“Yeah but.. They’ve never seen me without my prosthetic before, what if I scare them?” This was Sals usual nervous thoughts, always afraid of how his appearance would affect others.

“You’re not gonna scare them, trust me. You know (Y/N) better than that, they’ve gotta be the most kindest, and accepting person we know!” Larry tried to reassure his friend as Sal lowered his hand from his prosthetic, turning his gaze to his feet.

“I guess.” Deep down he knew Larry was right, but all the anxiety pent up inside just wouldn’t budge. 

“The dance is in two days, you still have time to think of what you want to say to them.” And that’s all Sal thought of for the next two days, practicing in the mirror, even asking his dad for advice, which ended horribly since Henry was more proud of the fact that Sal wanted to ask someone out rather than giving him advice.

“Mom, I have to get going soon.” You tried to exclaim as your mother snapped another photo of you in your prom dress, part of you was feeling disappointed that you never got to ask Sal to the dance, but he had been avoiding you for the past few days now. 

In fact, you actually started to grow worried that somebody might’ve told Sal about your little crush on him, your bets were on Chug. You could see him somehow spilling the beans on accident and then immediately trying to take it back and playing it off as a joke.

“Oh just one more photo!” Your mother cheered, snapping you from your thoughts, but before your mother could continue on with her photo shoot, there was a knock at the door.

“Those are my friends, can I go now?” You asked in a more harsh tone, trying to hint that you were getting impatient. Honestly, your mother could probably fill a whole scrap book with the amount of photos she had taken of you.

“Oh, fine! Maybe I could get a picture with you and your friends though?” She attempted one last time to get a few more pictures out of you.

“Mom!” You whined as you stepped over to the door, opening it to see your dear friends, Larry, Ash, and Sal.

“Heya (Y/N)!” Ash chirpped, she was wearing that purple dress that she spoke of a couple days ago. Larry and Sal were both in suits, and even though Sal still wore that blank prosthetic mask, he looked nervous for some reason.

“Hey (Y/N), y- you look nice.” Sal spoke, and wanted to punch himself for stuttering. Larry nudged Sal lightly and did his best not to burst into laughter right there.

“Thanks Sal! You look lovely too, are we ready to go? Where’s Todd.” You questioned, looking around for that brainy friend of yours.

“He’s helping Chug out with his outfit, he’s kinda nervous since he wants to ask Maple out.” It was Sals turn to nudge Larry back and give him a look from behind his prosthetic.

“Dude! We weren’t supposed to tell anyone!” Ashley and you both laughed a little, and honestly it was because you both knew Chug liked Maple from the start.

“Trust us, our lips are sealed!” You commented, stepping out of her apartment and waving your mom behind before closing the door before she could come attack you four with her camera.

You and the others stepped out of the building into the night, Larry pulled some car keys out of his pocket and unlocked Lisa’s car, which wasn’t far.

“We’re taking your moms car? Please tell me she’s okay with this.” You asked Larry, he only laughed and patted your shoulder.

“Yeah, she’s completely chill with me using her car tonight as long as I don’t wreck it! Only problem is that one of the seats is unavailable, and there’s six of us.” Larry explained.

“I call shot gun then!” Ash shouted as she rushed to the car in heels, it amazed me how fast she could run in those, even if they weren’t that high.

Chug and Todd had made their way out of the apartment just as Ash got to the car, you could now see what Larry was talking about when he said Chug was nervous. The poor guy was sweating bullets.

“Two people are gonna have to sit in the trunk.” Larry continued to explain, and Todd immediately spoke up.

“Chug can’t sit in the trunk, this nervous wreck will throw up all over Lisa’s car.” Chug tried to protest, claiming he wasn’t nervous, but it was clear to everyone that he was.

“I don’t mind sitting in the trunk.” Sal finally spoke, he seemed less nervous than before has he proceeded towards the car.

“Well then it’s settled I guess, (Y/N) and Sal will sit in the trunk, Todd and Chug will sit in the back, and Ash and I will sit in the front!” Before you could even try and argue with him, Larry was following Sal to the car with Chug and Todd close behind.

Why would you even try to fight with him on this? Being stuck in a small space with Sal Fisher? It was the perfect moment to try and make a move, you supposed you just didn’t want the others to overhear you, or end up having Ash tease the both of you.

“So you decided to join me?” Sal joked as you climbed into the trunk and laughed.

“Guess so!” You sat beside him as Larry closed the trunk and got into the drivers seat, starting the car and putting on some heavy metal music. Nobody really seemed to complain since he was giving everyone a ride.

“How are you feeling, (Y/N)?” He continued to conversation as the car was too noisy for anyone else to hear the two of you.

“Fine I guess, a bit nervous.” He seemed to relate to that as he nodded and stared up at the ceiling of the car, the both of you sat side by side, with your hands dangerously close. His nails were painted black, his hand looked so soft and holdable.

“What are you so nervous about? We’re gonna have fun tonight.” He stated that with enough confidence that it almost felt like a fact.

Silence fell between the two of you as Larry’s metal music started to overtake the car, the sound of Todd reassuring Chug mixed into the ambiance of the car. Slowly, just ever so slowly, your hand creeped closer to Sals, your mind raced with thoughts both positive and negative, what if he pulled away? What if he held your hand? Before your hand could even touch his, Larry took a tight turn, and Sals body crashed into yours.

“Larry!” You could hear Ash yell from the front of the car, your head hit the floor of the trunk rather roughly.

“What!” Larry cackled as he continued to drive the car, the pain in your head instantly faded when you made eye contact with the blue haired boy on top of you in a rather intimate position.

“U- Uh- I- I’m so- so sorry (Y/N)!” He immediately sat up and pulled himself off you as you sat up yourself. Before you could try and say anything, Larry took another tight turn and this time you fell against Sals chest, his back colliding with the side of the trunk.

“Larry! Sal and (Y/N) are in the trunk without seatbelts! Could you be a bit more gentle on those turns!?” Todd spoke up this time, you were just praying he wouldn’t turn back and take a look at the two of you, now smushed together.

“S- Sal I’m sorry!” You could feel your face practically about to burst into flames as you tried to pull yourself up, and his hand wrapped around your wrist to help support you.

“I- It’s okay, it’s neither of our faults, just Larry’s reckless driving.” He chuckled off the tension between the two of you as the car started to come to a halt. Todd turned back in his seat as Chug exited the car.

“Hey, we’re here.” He stated bluntly before leaving the car. Larry opened the trunk for the two of you as the both of you climbed out, Sal gave Larry a punch on the shoulder.

With that, most of your friends vanished into the crowd of students you have known for a while, you stuck close to Larry and Sal though as you made your way into the schools gym, which was now decorated surprisngly nicely by your peers. Students were dancing, chatting, and overall having a nice time.

“Hey, hey (Y/N)!” Ash shouted over the music, she looked relieved that she finally found you. It had been almost an hour into prom, and you have just been standing to the side and dancing to some of your favorite songs. Maple had came by a few times to ask you about the Sal situation, but you didn’t have much to say to her. You just didn’t know how to approach him after that moment in the car.

“Yeah Ash?” You responded to her, you knew your voice was gonna be a bit soar after tonight, but who cared?

“I got the DJ to play a slow song after this one! You need to go find Sal!” Ash yelled to you, instantly your face heated back up almost similar to that moment in the car.

“Why would you do that!?” Now beginning to panic, Ash took you by the shoulders and looked you in the eyes.

“Because the both of you need to just get your shit together and dance!” And with that she pushed you off into the crowd to go find Sal.

Instead of finding Sal, you found Travis Phelps, school bully and your friend groups worst enemy. You couldn’t help but sometimes feel bad for the guy though, since you heard his dad was a preacher and he was always looking a little beat up. Travis gave you a disgusted look.

“Oh, it’s you, I overheard you and that bitch.” He sneered, you wanted to defend Ashley, but he went on. “Do you really think that freaks gonna wanna dance with you?” 

“Shut up Travis, all you ever do is pick on us, I don’t understand what we did to deserve your cruelty!” You replied, clearly upsetted by his comment.

“Whatever, can’t wait to hear all about how Sally Face rejected you tonight!” His final remark made your heart sink, as you heard a familiar voice from behind you. Sal was standing there with Larry close behind, looking ready to beat the crap out of Travis.

Waves of embarrassment washed over you as Sal just seemed to blankly stare at you, was Travis right? Did he really not like you like that? You didn’t want to think about it, you did the only thing you could think of, which was to run away from the three of them and escape to the outside of the school. 

You hated Travis for doing that to you, he let everything you worked so hard on just slip out right in front of Sal. Hot tears filled your eyes as you collapsed to your knees, attempting to frantically wipe your tears.

“Stupid, stupid..” You mumbled, the music from the gym had made its way outside the building now muffled though and more quiet, you always hated how loud school gatherings would play their music. As you attempted to contain yourself, you heard the door you exited from open and close, and a soft and gentle voice call out to you.

“(Y/N)?” Sal called, the sound of his shoes against the concrete floor rang in your ears as you lifted your head.

“Sal.. I’m sorry. I..” You were lost for words, what were you suppoed to tell him? Try and lie? Tell the truth? You soon snapped out of it again as you heard slow music begin to play from inside the gym, and Sal offered his hand out to you a bit hesitantly.

“(Y/N), may I have this dance?” Your heart sank as you quickly took his hand, he pulled you onto your feet and wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping his other hand entangled with yours.

The both of you were so close that you could hear him softly breathe against his prosthetic, your heartbeats were almost in sinc as he began to lead you passively with the song. His eyes remained on yours, and yours remained on his.

“Sal,” you began, he was all ears, “Do you like me?” He lightly laughed at your comment, which made you a bit nervous until he responded.

“(Y/N), I’ve had a crush on you for like, three years. I’ve been waiting for a moment like this since forever.” He spoke softly, you never knew that he could be this romantic, it made your heart just want to burst from your chest.

The song eventually ended, but Sal continued to hold you, slowly he untangled his hand with yours and touched the bottom of his prosthetic. You had always silently theorized what Sal may have looked like under his prosthetic, so excitement overcame you as Sal slowly lifted his prosthetic off his face.

“You’re.. A work of art.” The compliment escaped your lips before you could even process them, his cheeks grew deep red as he sheepishly smiled.

“Thank you, (Y/N), would you.. Or.. Could I um.. Kiss you?” He softly asked, of course you responded with a nod before pulling him into a light kiss. Sal instantly dropped his prosthetic and carressed the side of your face with his now free hand, you wrapped both your arms around his neck as he kissed you back lovingly and passionately.

When the two of you separated, you both were blushing messes, and lost for words. Your moment was at and end when you heard Larry open the door and call out for you two, Sal took your hand and gave you a caring smile.

“We should head back now, okay? Enjoy the rest of the night.” 

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read this :) if you want more Sally Face content lmk! 

[whump-a-la-mode]

Gilded Cage - Part 7

I can only describe this as tooth-rotting fluff. Our whumpee deserves it!

Thank you so much to everyone for going through this story with me. I’ve had so much fun.

@worstcasescenariolullaby

CW//Hospital setting, medical talk, talk of broken bones, talk of surgery, altered states of mind, mentions of death, mentions of building collapses, conspiracy

“Are you sure about this?” Sidekick’s face twisted in a mask of concern.

“I’m sure.” Villain nodded.

“The Heroes...”

“The city won’t let this happen again. Come visit me in hospital sometime, okay? I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

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The felt piece on the bottom of the chess pawn had long since worn away, leaving a dull screeching noise in its wake as Villain moved the piece forward on the board. In expectation, they raised their head to their opponent, before gazing back down at the board. Examining the playing field. Furrowing their brows.

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Their opponent, Old Friend, spoke, their tongue filled with equal parts laughter and playful teasing. “And... there goes your rook.”

“What!” Villain’s gaze darted about the board, before grumbling and removing their fallen piece, adding it to a quickly growing pile. “You’re cheating.”

“How does one cheat at chess?”

“By being better than me. There, okay, there goes your pawn.”

“And there goes your knight.”

“Asshole. Come on, you have to have a secret. You gotta tell me.”

Old Friend smiled.

“You’re so intent on taking my pieces that you don’t worry about your own. Also, I was in the chess club back in school, so...”

“Nerd.” Villain stuck out their tongue.

“Alright, candle boy.”

“Hey! I told you-”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just really funny.”

“I could disintegrate a candle-”

“I know, I know. It’s your move, dude.”

“Fine. Is turning the board to ash a valid chess move?”

“There’s enough fire damage on the pieces as it is. Candle boy.”

“At least come up with something better than that. Like... Like blowtorch. That sounds cool.”

“Blowtorch? What are you, like, seven?”

“Eh, there’s worse villain names out there.”

“You don’t have one yet, do you?”

“Nah. I’m not that breed of cocky. They just call me the arsonist, I think.”

“That’s pretty underwhelming.”

“Meh.”

Again, Villain studied the board a moment. They sent a rook forwards, knocking over a knight on the other side.

“Your move.”

Old Friend nodded, and, for a few moments, they sat like that. Accompanied by nothing but the sounds of the city and the scraping of pieces on the board.

“Did Violet ever have a name?”

It took Villain a few moments to register the question. They moved a piece before looking up.

“What, like a villain name?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think so. You could ask her.”

“Aw, man, you haven’t heard?”

Villain frowned, lips pursing together to form a thin line.

“She’s gone?”

“Bridge collapse. I was always warning her, taking roots out of the ground like that is gonna make something fall eventually. Just so happened to be right on top of her. It’s a shame, really. Gonna have to find somewhere else to get our lettuce, now.”

“Not funny.”

“I know. And... check.”

“What?”

“Checkmate.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

Villain shoved the board away from themself, sitting back and stretching their arms above their head. Old Friend swiped the remaining pieces from the board, beginning to once again set the stage for their next game.

“This time, think about the risk you might be putting your pieces in. It’s not worth it, losing a knight to take out a pawn, y’know?”

“I guess.”

“What’s got you acting so sad all of a sudden?” Old Friend looked up. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m gonna get a candle.”

“Okay. You good?”

“I just... I just need a candle.”

Villain stood, stiff legs aching with pins and needles as they moved across the small, damp-walled apartment. The kitchen, or what was little more than a countertop with a fridge and microwave, was barren, snack bowls long since left with nothing but crumbs.

They drew open the door of one of the wall-mounted cabinets, unveiling a series of shelves, stacked with white pillars of wax. Most lumpy and misshapen, the rest bent and folded in on themselves. Villain selected one, moving back to where Old Friend had just finished resetting the board. They sat in their spot, a place already well worn into the carpet.

“Do you want to play again?” Old Friend’s voice had grown quiet, concerned.

“Yeah... Just give me a second.”

“Need to let it out?”

“Yeah.”

The firebrand gripped the white-waxed candle in one hand, then the other. Feeling the film transfer from palm to palm. The flame in their stomach answered the call without hesitance. They had already felt the heat, struggling to escape into their veins.

It was slow, at first. The wax did not melt, simply molding itself, bulging and shifting as to allow Villain’s fingers to make their mark. Their eyes fixed upon the process: The control of it. The way in which the wax moved only on their call.

It helped them breathe.

“Violet...” They began, frowning again. “That’s the second bridge accident this year.”

“There’s a lot of bridges, to be fair.”

“But not a lot of collapses.”

“What are you saying?”

“It seems so much like a coincidence, but... How many have we lost, this year?”

“Violet and Argyle, uh, Aaron I think. Dana and Evelyn and-”

“And what month is it?”

“April?”

“Exactly.”

“I mean, we lose a lot, but...”

“And they’re always accidents. Car crashes. Building fires. Drownings. But they’re not accidents.”

The wax yielded with more readiness. A few droplets fell, deftly caught by Villain’s other hand.

“What do you mean, they’re not accidents? I don’t think people drown on purpose.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s not what I mean. If they were actually accidents, you would think they’d happen at random times. But-”

“It’s always when the Heroes are around. Always during battle.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t think the Heroes are doing it on purpose, though. I mean, they wouldn’t just blow up a bridge to kill one villain. The battles just get too intense, I think. I mean, how many times have you almost died in battle?”

“A lot.”

“Same here. That’s all.”

“No. No.” Villain shook their head. “I’ve almost died many times. But I haven’t died. Because I’m not stupid. And the others weren’t, either.”

“I don’t think the Heroes are killing people, Villain.”

“Then what else are they doing?”

“I don’t know, protecting the city? Whatever nonsense they say.”

“Protecting the city from us. Supposedly. But it seems like they’re a hell of a lot more focused on these big battles.”

“That’s kind of our fault, to be fair.”

“Is it? Most of our didn’t choose this life.”

“We’re still doing, I mean, crimes. Like, we’re definitely criminals.”

“Then they should be taking us to prison.”

“Isn’t that what they do?”

“When is the last time you heard of anyone going to prison?”

“I mean, uh... What about Jared?”

“You mean the one they got in a van that then mysteriously exploded?”

“Oh. Right. What about, uh, didn’t they get Kara?”

“Yeah. And then pronounced her dead at the hospital.”

“Okay. Maybe... maybe you have a point.”

Between Villain’s fingers, a single droplet of candle wax fell.

“Yeah.”

Old Friend sighed.

“Do you want to play again?”

“Mhm.”

Villain drew the heat from their palms, allowing the remnants of the candle to solidify in their hands. They placed it down, then, though droplets of white still stuck to their fingers.

“I think...” Old Friend looked down at the board, considering their first move. “I think if the Heroes ever capture you, you’ll find they’re a lot kinder than you expect.”

Villain snorted in laughter.

“If the Heroes ever capture me, there will nothing left of my body to find.”

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“It’s a miracle.”

“It is. The damage they sustained... I can hardly believe that there’s enough blood left in them to keep them alive.”

“Hardly any blood. Hardly any body, either.”

“Yeah.”

“A real miracle. The guys down in Radiology, they thought we got the scans mixed up. They confused them for those of the guy in the other room. The motorcycle crash one.”

“That makes sense. To think that a human did this...”

“Not a normal human. A lot stronger than a normal human.”

“But with the same morals as a normal human.”

“You’d hope so.”

“Oh. Crap, looks like they’re waking up. Let’s give a bit more propofol... They need their rest.”

Villain’s closed eyes twitched, as though dreaming. At least, they did not think they were dreaming. It was hard to say, these days...

Had it been days? Or just a couple of hours? They tried to think, to remember, but the will to do so was deeply buried under blankets and bitter-tasting medicines. They longed to sit up, to move, to open their eyes, but those thoughts came from such a small part of their mind. The rest of them was so tired...

The numbness, now, was softer. Warmer. It was not a force of overwhelming heat, laughing at them and telling them to forget their pain, to keep moving. Instead, this time, the numbness was simply warm. Pleasantly so. Urging them to rest, to sleep, to ignore the taste of iron on their tongue that refused to go away.

Sleeping and wakefulness, to them, felt to be a sliding scale. They spent much time at the former end, in blissful unconsciousness, but had yet to find themself at the latter. They struggled for it, struggled to get close, but their anxious murmurs and twitching were always responded to with soft words and hands and more warmth in their veins.

Vilain was floating for a moment. Again, the hundredth time, they struggled to part their lips, but only managed to exert effort to no end.

“Their leg... I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Are you sure they’re strong enough for this?”

“Yeah. We can’t wait any longer. The bone will heal wrong if we wait any longer.”

“Okay.”

The numbness was stronger, that time.

“Villain? Villain?”

Their eyelids twitched, again.

“They said you’d opened your eyes, earlier...”

There was more softness, in that tone. Not the pitying notes of a doctor or nerve-wracked surgeon, but the warm coaxing of a friend.

The hand on their wrist was cold.

Their fingers twitched, then their lips. They tried to utter out a syllable, but only managed a shaky breath.

“Yeah, that’s it. Thank you. Do you remember me?”

Did they? They weren’t sure what they remembered, anymore. They remembered being here. They remembered the blankets and the half-hearted attempts by the nurses to coax them into swallowing a spoonful of jello.

“It’s Doctor. Do you remember me? Do you remember Doctor?”

“Doctor?”

The word came out more like a croak. Their eyes twitched with more furor this time, until, at long last, the world flooded into sterile existence around them. They got distracted, a moment, by the pattern of white tiles above.

“There you go!” There was genuine pride in that voice. “I knew you could do it.”

“Mmm.”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” That cold hand moved from their wrist to their hand. Trying to hold it, to embrace their fingers. But Villain did not have the strength for such a thing. “I’m so sorry, Villain. I’m so sorry.”

“F- for what?”“

“I- I almost killed you! Had you stayed under my care... I’m sorry.”

Villain blinked a moment, trying to think.

“You...” Their throat felt so terribly raw. “You were right.”

“It wasn’t right to let Hero try to kill you.”

“No... Not that. You said, uh, about warmth. ‘Bout heat.”

There was a smile. Villain did not have to see it to know that it was there.

“You understood?”

“Yes. On th’stage.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did good.”

“I get it, now. I think... Heat can, uh, it can destroy buildings.” Their words were awfully drawn out, hard to understand through their lengthy slurring. “But it can also... bake cookies.”

Doctor laughed, at that.

“You’re right. You’re right.”

Villain’s fingers finally agreed to move, wrapping around Doctor’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Villain.” Another sigh. This one, warm. “Have you heard, what they’re saying about you? You lost so much blood. And your organs were all over the place. It’s a miracle that you survived.”

The grasp on Villain’s hand tightened.

“They said you only lived because you wanted to. Because you really, really wanted to survive. Is that right?”

“I... I think it is. Yeah.”

“Yeah. I’ll be back, okay? Get some rest.”

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It was three weeks after, that they were allowed to have any more visitors. Three weeks of medicines and surgeries and treatments and x-rays. It all blurred in their mind, until the calendar held as little meaning to them as the results of their blood tests.

They weren’t healed. Certainly not. But wakefulness no longer felt like such a monumental effort.

The jello tasted like nothing as they placed it upon their tongue. Nothing but sugar and sweetener, desperately trying to mask the tastelessness of gelatin. By the time the door opened, which it did with such a force that Villain wondered if it had been struck with a battering ram, they were almost done with the cup of overly-sweet dessert.

They jumped, nearly dropping their plastic spoon as their gaze snapped upwards. For a split second, the figure in the doorway made their limbs begin to shake, a familiar pressure reviving on their neck. But, it only lasted a second.

Sidekick looked different. Their stature was the same, certainly, as well-muscled as ever, but it was no longer draped in any sort of uniform. Instead, a grey sweatshirt struggled to contain their form, marked with the logo of some sports team or another.

Villain took another bite of jello.

“Good news.” Sidekick’s smile had the same media allure that Hero once showed the cameras, sending a shiver down Villain’s spine. They strode nearer, confident steps striking the tile floor. Compared to them, Villain felt terribly small. “Come on, don’t you want to hear it?”

Another bite and the cup was empty. They placed it down on the small table next to their bed.

“Um... Yeah. Okay.” They could not muster up nearly enough energy to match that of their visitor.

“Okay, so, J- sorry, uh, you-know-who, they found the video. The real one. Without all the edits.”

“That’s... good.”

“Mhm. We have news stations willing to broadcast it, too. Put some doubt on the story, right?”

“Right.”

“You... Don’t seem as excited as I remember you being.”

“Sorry.” Villain’s gaze cast downwards. “I’m still just a little tired, and all.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. You got hurt pretty bad. Do you have any idea when you might be out of here?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll try to ask a nurse or something. When you’re strong enough, though, we’ve got this whole plan. You’re gonna be, like, our emissary. Between us and the villains, yeah?”

“Uh... why?”

“Well, I mean, the Heroes only really exist to stop you and the other villains. If we can just... convince them to stop doing villain stuff, then the public will start the see that the Heroes are, y’know, not all their cracked up to be.”

Villain struggled to suppress a smile. They couldn’t imagine trying to ask some of their former cohorts to all of a sudden go on the straight and narrow.

Still, even beneath the blankets and the medicine, they felt the smallest scrap of warmth return. A tiny ember, floating in their stomach.

The opportunity to turn their pain into something other than nightmares and tears in the hospital bed’s pillow.

“When I’m out of here... well, we’ll have to see, I guess.”

“That’s all we can really hope for. Now, uh, I kind of have to go. They’re about to notice I broke a window.”

“You w-”

“Sorry! Gotta go!”

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It was the smell that made Villain recognize their second visitor, more than their appearance.

They looked different. Quite different. Taller, slightly, with tight cords of muscle now curling about their neck. Nothing like the tiny twig they’d once known.

It looked like they’d finally hit their growth spurt, after all. A decade late.

The scent that they carried with them was one of freshly cut wood, the rural stench of sawdust, accompanied by the damp musk of a home long forgotten.

“Holy shit, candle boy.”

Four words. Four stupid words, uttered the moment Old Friend walked through the door.

Villain burst out laughing.

Not laughter of sorrow, or of venom. True laughter. The warmth that filled their chest this time had nothing to do with flame.

“So, am I allowed to hug you, or...”

“There’s no doctors here to tell us not to.”

“Good point.”

The warmth in Villain’s chest only increased with Old Friend’s embrace. Their friend buried their head in their shoulder. The tears wet quickly through Villain’s hospital gown.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“You didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I should have-”

“It’s in the past, now. I’m just so glad you’re alive.”

“Just to be clear... you’re not a good guy?”

“I don’t know what I am. But I’m still your friend.”

“That’s all I care about.”

The embrace broke off after over a minute, though it was still far too soon.

“We have an apartment. Me and Aggie and some others.” Old Friend stepped back. “We have a room all set up. Even found some of your old stuff. I know it’s gonna be a while, but... you’ve always got somewhere to go, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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The End

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I can’t thank you guys enough for reading through this story and experiencing it with me. This is the end of this story, but I hope to make another one soon!

There is no next part, so there are no story paths to choose from for next time. But, I still have options to pick from. I want to hear what you think Villain’s choice will be!

A) Be a hero. Go with Sidekick, and liberate the city

B) Be a friend. Return to Old Friend. Make life good again.

[lampmeeting]

D for Charles/Magnus, I for Magnus/Toki, L for Charles/Pickles, and F for Melm/JT.

eeehEHEHEHE DILF *rubs my little hands together* don't mind if i do~

D for Drunken Love Confession - Charles/Magnus

pre-klok. :') magnus has been chipping away at charles' resolve. there's just something about the bookish, put-together little chuck offdensen that makes magnus wanna break through all his defenses and see him come undone. he always did like a challenge. they have heated, passionate debates about the direction of the band. they get in each other's faces. magnus even kissed him once, but charles pushed him away, furious and blushing, and demanded he leave his office.

after six months of this weirdly charged back-and-forth they have, the band invites charles to come drinking with them to celebrate pickles' birthday. charles declines, concerned they're just inviting him to come because they want someone else to play designated driver. but magnus intervenes like "nah i'm driving tonight, promise. so go nuts." and charles seems to think it over... and eventually agrees.

so they all go out! at first charles seems to be pacing himself, but pickles gets shots, and it's all downhill from there. magnus, staying dutifully sober, watches the rest of the band + charles get sloppy and silly, not minding in the slightest the way charles leans against him a little in the booth and touches him when he laughs. he starts to regret not getting drunk himself, but he'd promised charles. it's enough just to see charles' mask slip, albeit not quite in the way magnus wanted. but he'll take it for now.

at the end of the night, magnus drops the band off at the apartment and then continues on to charles' place. he pulls up, and charles tries to get out of the car, but stumbles and falls. he's a lot more fucked up than magnus suspected. magnus helps him to the door, but charles seriously looks like he's about to black out, so he takes him inside, cleans him up a little, and puts him to bed (on his side, in the recovery position, he knows the drill). before he leaves, he can't help himself... he runs fingers through charles' sweaty hair and strokes his jaw. charles opens his eyes, seeming surprised that magnus is still there, and then... he smiles at him. a genuine smile. and as his eyes close again, he whispers something that freezes magnus in place.

"...mmfm...mmlove you..."

"...what?"

but charles is under again, and magnus leaves in a panic. charles doesn't, can't, have feeling for him. that's too much. magnus just wanted some fun, right? maybe get charles worked up enough for an angry fuck. but...love?

magnus can't sleep. the next time magnus sees charles, charles pulls him aside. "i apologize that you had to babysit me like that the other night. i can't exactly recall everything that happened, so if i said or did anything, ah...embarrassing, i'm very sorry."

so charles doesn't remember what he said. or he does and he's just trying to save face. magnus should be relieved about this, but for some reason his heart feels suddenly sore...

"oh, yeah, no...you were out like a light. don't worry about it."

--

I for "Idiots in Love" - Toki/Magnus

post-post-galaktikon. weirdly enough i'd probably write this from like nathan's pov or something. he's having everyone over to the house for some reason, maybe a holiday or his daughter's first birthday or something (her cool uncles wouldn't dream of missing it). this means..... rrugghhgh magnus is coming over. it's the first time he's interacted with magnus since pickles and charles' wedding, so maybe a good couple years, and he's not looking forward to it.

everyone arrives. toki and magnus are the last to show up, and nathan has to do a double-take because this is SO not magnus. half his hair is back in a ponytail, he's let his beard grow in some, and he's wearing a sweater?? and he's smiling? he genuinely seems happy to see nathan, gives him a hug, says a warm hello to abby.

over the course of the afternoon nathan has to keep looking at him and reminding himself that's magnus fucking hammersmith because he's just so... animated? friendly? he's sitting next to toki and they're holding hands, and when others are talking the two of them are making eyes at each other and cuddling and laughing at little things they seem to be sharing between themselves. they're being a couple of absolute goofballs together, and honestly it's a bit sickening to watch. is magnus just faking this?

at some point nathan excuses himself to the kitchen for something, and while he's in there he's joined by magnus, considerably more subdued.

"sorry, man, i just...i thought maybe we could talk for a sec."

so they talk. they catch up a little. nathan learns magnus has been hitting the therapy especially hard over the past year, making some meaningful strides. it's not an act, he's genuinely happier now. or at least trying to be.

"i mean, you know how it is, nate, right? doesn't abby make you wanna be better just because she exists and she loves you?"

okay, nathan can understand that. he still doesn't understand... them. but it really seems like magnus has turned a corner, which... good for him, he supposes. as long as he's treating toki well.

when they return to the party, nathan watches magnus sit back down with toki and give him a kiss like he'd been gone all month, and they giggle to themselves again. this time, it seems...all right.

--

L for "Love at First Sight" - Charles/Pickles

i'm gonna flip the script here!! i've already done the whole "charles sees pickles on stage and goes gaga for him" twice now... so i'd pull away from the 80s and do a fic where they actually did meet for the first time in the mid-90s when pickles was in dethklok.

so they've got their shitty original manager (the one from doomstar) still, and he's just not pulling his weight. he's managing a few other bands and his heart isn't in dethklok the way it used to be. pickles is worried they're stagnating, and when he learns that it's been magnus lately making sure they get booked, that's the last straw. they all come together, and they tell the dude to fuck off. but then this leaves them without a manager. magnus offers, but pickles has already been wary about how possessive magnus seems about the band recently, so when pickles says no the rest of them vote the same.

pickles blows through his old contacts looking to dig up some manager from his past who can either wants to manage dethklok or has connections to someone else. no dice. skwisgaar comes up with no one. magnus is still trying to campaign for himself. shit gets dire when somehow seth finds out dethklok is lacking management and leaves pickles a voicemail offering his "valuable fuckin' services". pickles blows his fucking top, swearing and screaming. "HOW HARD IS IT TO FIND ONE GUY CAPABLE OF MANAGING A FUCKIN' BAND??"

the doorbell rings, and pickles, still raging, throws it open.

"WHAT??"

"ahh!"

it's just... a dude. like a normal-ass dude. glasses. a nice dress shirt and slacks. nice hair. handsome. he's nervous as shit, but that almost makes him more handsome.

"i, ah...i-i was told that van on the street belongs to, ah...to someone here? i clipped the, ah, the bumper. just a little. but it's noticeable."

anger forgotten, pickles just... stares at him. are his eyes green or brown? and that jawline...

the man shifts his weight just a bit, peeking into the apartment with wide, curious eyes. "sorry, that, ah... that's quite the drum kit."

"huh?" pickles looks back at it and steps inside, and the man follows as if he's simply meant to be there. "oh, yeah, thanks. you play?"

"hardly. a small jazz kit in college for a friend's music project but it, ah, obviously didn't go anywhere." the man glances around and seems to realize that he's just waltzed inside. "right, ah, so about the van--" he pulls out his card. charles f. offdensen of finch & associates. an honest-to-god lawyer. huh. so he's a smart guy. good-looking to boot. knows a bit about music, apparently. and he's looking to make things right about hitting the van...

pickles smiles, hearts in his eyes. "ya like metal, charlie?"

--

F for "Fake Dating" - Melmord/Twinkletits

aaahahah... okay. so, this would be when melm is living with john as part of his continued therapy. a few months pass, and they've actually become good friends, melm thinks, not just therapist and patient. it's nice living there with john.

and then, john gets a call from his ex-wife, joy. she's in town, and she wants to come over for dinner one night before she leaves. the only thing is, she's got her new fiance in tow. she and john ended on pretty mutual terms, so there's really no bitterness there, but even so, john knows it's going to be an unpleasant evening. and then there's the question of what to do about melmord.

"you can just stuff me in a back room and pretend i don't exist. i'll be real quiet."

"absolutely not, you've been watching too many sitcoms."

"excuse you, that's jane eyre."

john just doesn't exactly know how to approach explaining melmord's presence in the house. because he knows joy, and joy will ask.

"tell her i'm a friend who needed a place to crash?"

"joy knows i don't do friends anymore."

ouch go melm's feelings.

"well, uh... you could just tell her the truth? that i'm your patient and i live with you?"

john pulls a face. "absolutely not."

in a flash of sitcom inspiration, melm snaps his fingers. "i got it! i'm your boyfriend! we'll pretend to date!"

"pretend to--?? mel, honey, no. okay? i understand you're trying to help, but--"

"but what? what's your brilliant idea, doc?"

cut to john introducing melmord to his ex-wife.

"and this is my... well, he's uh, my boyfriend actually. my boyfriend melmord."

melm is all smiles as he leans in and takes joy's hand. "please, just call me mel."

and then of course at the end of a long night, joy and her fiance leave, and john and melm pat each other on the back for a job well done. they really gave it their all, put on a convincing performance full of long embraces and doting glances and romantic touches. neither of them really want to talk about how easily it came to them, and how unwilling they both are to bring it to an end.

"well, uhh... good night, then." john chuckles. "darling."

"yeah, haha, sleep good, uh... sugarbear."

they laugh. they're standing in the hall laughing. they should really move apart from each other and go to their respective rooms if they're going to sleep, but they're not moving. and they're still laughing. and now melmord is touching john's shirt, fingering a button, and john has a hand on melm's hip...

"maybe," melm says quietly, "we can just pretend for, like... a little longer?"

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

ii. Fun Facts About The Cast | Actor Au | Obey Me

Request: Its not, I love this AU tho

Word Count: 2303 words

Page Count: 6.5 pages

A.N. Hope you guys all like this! Fun facts about the cast lmao

[ Actor AU Masterlist ]

Fun Facts

Benjamin ( Lucifer )

- Is the dad of the cast.

- In any scenes with Dmitri ( Luke ), he makes sure to know if he is alright, and often will stop scenes to ask.

- He also is an overall joker, so he has trouble filming most of his scenes, will often start laughing in the middle of filming and can break character the easiest.

- Best with kids overall, probably due to having his own, keeps their lives private tho.

- His hair was white for a past show, but the directors liked the look, so that's why he has white tips.

- One of the few male characters who cannot do those diets to accentuate his abs- so that's why his character is always covered up.

- He's in shape! But, he likes the fat that protects his muscle, he says he needs to stay soft to hug his kids.

- Known diabetic, so there's a table full of foods so his sugars are stable, the cast has glucagon shots all over the sets to be safe.

- Is in his early thirties, but people say he can pull off early twenties- he just snorts at this.

Avery ( Mammon ) 

- Takes the job seriously, and his scenes are easiest to film.

- Dark humor and often is the "Lucifer" of the cast.

- Seeing him switch from Avery to Mammon leaves the rest of the cast and crew fucking s h o o k.

- Will always be seen looking his finest.

- No, no one has seen him in public in sweatpants or anything like that. His image is very serious.

- Is a sweetheart when with the rest of the cast tho.

- His eyes are actually that blue.

- No one is sure if his hair is actually white or not, the way he speaks about it is vague, and fans are always theorizing.

- Watching over Benji ( Lucifer ), and is usually the one to tell him to check his sugars, since the other is quite forgetful.

- Is an immigrant from Turkey, so he has an accent, makes people thirst for him more.

- Helps aspiring actors and directors get into the field, and goes on hard work and talent, not who tries to pay him off.

Jackson ( Leviathan )

- Is the resident fuckboi.

- Always with males and females hanging off him, at this point the pop gave up, no- they aren't his partner.

- Flexes a shit ton.

- Wearing chains, a Rolex, and anything designer.

- Donates half of his salary to ocean reserves and protection funds, he has the money for it, and the show pays him well.

- Always at the beach, or near lake houses and shit, the one ( 1 ) thing he likes about his character.

- Hates the fringe he wears with a passion.

- His hair is actually a light shade of brown, his eyes are a darker shade, but still pretty light.

- First generation, his parents are Korean, so you can pick up hints of their accent in his speech patterns. Gets heavy when he's sleepy. 

Ross ( Satan )

- Is a stoner.

- Goes on Instagram lives with either MC and gets high, talking about the dumbest shit or he's alone in his room and his cats join in.

- "So, if you think about- oH MY GOD PRINCESS. YES, COME TO DADDY."

- Has a kitten curled up on him, purrs loud as hell because mf is so warm, and the lives turn into purring ASMR sessions.

- Into self care, has a line of vitamins, face masks, and everything you can think of.

- Calls his fans his SaStans.

- Dmitri ( Luke ) is his younger brother.

- Will never let him out of his sight, and they love to be as mean as they can to each other, they love each other but love to bully one another.

- Is from the Bronx, so his accent is what Avery ( Mammon ) mimics for his character, often just records Avery's lines and sends them to him so he can practice.

- Owns an animal shelter he funds.

- "Carol Baskin? Who's that?"

- The REAL tiger king.

- Gets all his cats dyed to look like tigers.

Micheal ( Asmodeus )

- Chill as fuck.

- Has like 5+ kids, so the role fits him perfectly, and now it's an on running joke among fans that they are all his illegitimate children.

- You know why Asmodeus on the show wears so much makeup? 

- His eldest daughter is one of the makeup artists, and she loves to try new looks on him, and the producers think it would fit the character well.

- People speculate his age, looks young but is in his late 30's.

- His first child was born when he was 16, so he likes to support safe heavens and things like that for struggling youths- from being kicked out to needing assistance with mental health.

- Tired af.

- Always in sweatpants, him and Ross ( Satan ) are the trademark bums of the cast.

- Thinks it would be hilarious that when Micheal is revealed, in the show, that he plays the character.

- Is a writer as well, TSL is a real series and he writes it, so they let him use it in the show.

- Vlogs in his car, in a Wendy's parking lot, eating a shit ton of food and talking about the most random shit.

- Half asleep in all interviews, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, it's gotten to the point where everyone memes it too.

James ( Beelzebub )

- Himbo.

- One of the few cast members closest to their character.

- Absolute sweetheart.

- He's 20 years old.

- But how is he so fucking big???

- Comes from a big ass family, the middle child, he's baby 4 out of 9.

- All his siblings are redheads too.

- Very playful tho, with the cast always going along with his antics, making for the best bloopers.

- The contacts he wears make him blind af, which doesn't help since he's so tall, and will bump his head on the doorways and such.

- Can speak Scottish-Gaelic, and even has an accent to top it off.

- He is an absolute unit, and one of the characters who does the stupid diet to show off his form.

- Literally on the verge of passing out sometimes, so he needs to rest with Benjamin ( Lucifer ).

- All pictures, shirtless scenes, and such are filmed first so he can rest after and go back to a normal diet.

- Quiet guy, but loves talking about sports and his siblings tho.

- Is always carrying MC and Dmitri ( Luke ) around, now there are many off-guard photos posted to the casts shared twitter+instagram accounts

- Still pretty new to acting, but is amazing at emotional scenes, to the point fans actually think he's having a breakdown.

- Nah, he's just thinking about being alone, without his family- and it gets him bawling for said scenes.

Conner ( Belphegor )

- Crackhead 

- Will not stay still, either for filming or just when everyone is chilling.

- Scenes where he's asleep? He's usually turned away from the camera, cause the idiot is smiling and giggling.

- Has tripped over his tail multiple times.

- Comes from a farm-life, literal cowboy, his southern accent just hits hard.

- He hides it very well, but it comes out at times or with certain words.

- Sees Benjamin ( Lucifer ) as a mentor, he's in his early twenties and new to the scene, but they are best friends.

- Benjamin ( Lucifer ) has now acquired a new child.

- A living meme.

- You know how Tom Holland can't keep a secret?

- Yeah, he's worse.

- Rest of the cast have all had to physically stop him from talking at one point.

- The cow pillow? It's actually his, when he got the role his father has sewn it himself, so he will bring it with him.

- It's basically free promo for the show and comforts him in the city space.

- Gets overwhelmed in large crowds, so he usually makes sure to have another cast member close by, or he will literally leave to a less crowded place to take a breath.

- Apologized to MC after the scene in which he kills them.

- His mama raised him right, so he takes MC to his house for a movie, in which they cuddle and relax for the night.

- Felt really bad for like... a whole week.

- "Country boy I love you~"

Thomas ( Barbatos )

- Brat.

- This is one cocky man, he's smooth as hell, and one whisper can make you weak in the knees.

- Grew out the one side of his hair, but he slicks his hair back or will pin it back, dyes it himself when it's time to film.

- Loves to piss Alex ( Simeon ) off.

- Has a true crime podcast with Roman ( Diavolo ), Alex ( Simeon ), and Benjamin ( Lucifer ), because they're all old friends.

- Donates to the cold case foundation because he knows what it's like to lose someone and not know what happened to them.

- He has a twin who is his stunt double, they love to fuck with the rest of the cast, both of them are little shits.

- Is the motherfucker who makes a channel and reads the crackhead fanfics

- Loves every word of it tho.

- Responds to every fans dms. Every. One. As a whole account for this shit.

- Walks with a bit of a limp, so he wears a brace to help even himself, but during wide-shot scenes you can catch it sometimes.

- Took actual classes to be a butler for the role.

Roman ( Diavolo )

- Himbo 2.0

- Catch this man tweeting what he's trying to search up at 2 in the morning.

- Leaves them because it's hilarious, makes videos where he reads them out sometimes, it's all in good fun.

- He has a set of triplets at home, so that dad energy radiates into the show too.

- You know how Diavolo seems sus at points of the game? Yeah, he's still like that IRL.

- The rest of the cast was put off at first, but that's how he is, and everyone eased up pretty quickly.

- Makes jokes that he has family in the Italian mob, but needed to stop once his father called him, saying that there were too many eyes on the family now.

- Man was s h o o k.

- Has sensitive skin, so all his makeup and body paints need to be specially made, made with all natural products.

- The bags under his eyes are baby bags.

- Will bring his kids on set, to which everyone will gush over, and watch them when they aren't filming.

- Very private with his kids ( to the public ), doesn't post about them much, and only the cast really sees them.

- Wine dad.

- Catch him bringing the whole cast out for "family trips"

- People nicknamed him Caesar

- So many JoJo references now

- "SHHHHIIIIIZZZAAAAAAAA"

- "Please, no."

Dmitri ( Luke )

- Is actually 12.

- Quotes vines, tiktoks, and other memes.

- Is one of the few people that Alex ( Simeon ) is openly nice too.

- Also has an accent, but since he's young and is learning, can now mimic every other cast member's accent.

- Wear earplugs for certain scenes, because of how raunchy and dark the scenes can get, so Simeon and Barbatos are always conveniently in the way, hiding the plugs.

- Is Ross' ( Satan ) younger brother, and if he isn't hanging off of him he's with James ( Beelzebub ), Benjamin ( Lucifer ), or MC.

- They know there are some sick fucks in Hollywood so he has an adult with him at all times.

- Posts pictures of him cuddling up to his brother and the kittens, new foods he is trying, and some pictures with family.

- He often is considered the new Gordon Ramsay.

- Had a collaboration with him.

- It was amazing.

- Best boy, catch him taking a nap in his ( and Ross' ) trailer, surrounded by tiger kittens.

- The TIGER PRINCE.

Alex ( Simeon )

- Avatar of wrath who?

- The embodiment of "No talk me, I angy"

- Jkjk, though he does have a temper, he only loses it with Benjamin ( Lucifer ), Roman ( Diavolo ), and Thomas ( Barbatos ).

- A sweetheart with all children though, like you know Simeon on the show? 

- Yeah, he's only like that with kids.

- And respectable adults.

- Mama raised him well 2.0

- Grew up in NY

- Born in Gucci and Balenciaga.

- Was a child model and slowly expanded to acting.

- Dark humor galore.

- If Simeon met Alex, he'd probably have a stroke, cause THOSE WORDS are coming out of HIS mouth.

- Says the weirdest shit too.

- "Put your hand on my ass and call me a virgin."

- Bro are you okay???

- He is fluent in five languages and has a high IQ.

- Speaks: English, French, Italian, Arabic, and Mandarin

- Has a support system for children who struggle to learn conventionally, with trained tutors who are affordable, he knows what it's like to need certain needs met to learn, and he wants every kid to get that chance.

- Rough around the edges but has a heart of gold.

Derek ( Solomon )

- Loves to smoke with Ross ( Satan )

- He is more aloof than chill.

- One of the more awkward members, doesn't know how to socialize well, and is very shy.

- Watch out for Dmitri ( Luke ) on the down low.

- Didn't have the best life growing up, so he is a lot more street smart than book smart.

- Doesn't have a big social media influence.

- Very nice to fans, gives full hugs to them, and everyone feels so appreciated.

- Has a husky named Blue.

- Also has an owl, who he took in when he found it on his porch with a broken wing, and nursed it to health.

- He set it free, but she comes back often, and has a nest in the tree closest to his house.

- Named her Lovely.

- Animal person, so he helps Ross out with his animal shelters.

- Uses Blue as a living pillow, and only sleeps in his boxers when Blue is on his bed, because goddamn does that dog radiate heat.

- Him and MC live together, having grown up together, and made their livings together. 

[staarshines]

It’s Not All Roses Chapter 1: astra (HighSchool!AU) || P.D.

| It’s Not All Roses Masterlist |

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side. What the hell were the odds?

[A/N]: i haven’t been on here for months but we don’t talk about that❤️ also, the pandemic doesn’t exist here. bonne lecture.

Your Sour Patch Kids and Sprite, Finn’s Milky Way and Gatorade… You look over the items in your hands once more, hurrying through the crowds of kids masked in orange and white, proudly showing off Amidala-Skywalker High School’s colors; a stark contrast to the crowd bathed in red and black on the other side of the podium.

You mentally curse yourself for even wanting to come to the Homecoming game between Amidala-Skywalker and Geonosis High—dragging Finn along with you on top of that.

If Homecoming was this overhyped, you were going to be pissed.

Lost in thought, you unavoidably manage to run into someone, wincing when you hear the crack of your Sprite can hit the ground and open.

“My bad.”

You look back up to see a cute guy looking back at you with apologetic eyes, grinning, while his wild chocolate-colored curls frame his face.

“No, you’re good. It was my fault for running into you.”

“Nah, that was me. Got a little too focused on the game.” Both of you erupt into awkward laughter, bending down to pick up the snacks now lying on the ground. “I’m Poe, by the way.”

You look up once more, breath hitching in your throat because of how close you are to him—had you moved five inches closer, your lips would be pressed flush up against his. Your cheeks heat up at the thought and you forget how to speak for a few moments, watching him hold back a smirk.

This fucker knew exactly—

“I’m Y/N,” you quickly blurt out, flashing him a quick smile and grabbing the candy and sports drink, noticing another Sprite can that Poe hadn’t picked up. “I think that’s yours.”

“No, that one’s yours.”

“Even if it is mine, I ran into you, so you should have it.”

“Honestly? I was hoping you’d say that. Rey would kill me if I didn’t come back with her Sprite.” You chuckle and nod, standing up and smiling when he motions for you to go up the steps first.

You’re thinking about where you’ve seen him on the way up to your row, realizing that he was the one who pranked a girl—you’re guessing Rey?—in your english class by removing her headphones from her laptop’s jack while she was in the bathroom. Mr. Kenobi nearly fell out of his seat when he heard “WAP” blaring at full volume.

Needless to say, she was not happy.

You slide into the row Finn is sitting in, throwing him his candy and the Gatorade bottle—the latter of which he nearly doesn’t catch, which would’ve resulted in it hitting the brunette next to him.

“Y/N! Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side.

What the hell were the odds?

You then remember that Finn and Rey are watching you look around like a madman, snapping you back to the situation of introductions and small-talk at hand.

“Right! The girl who—”

“Whose music blared in a dead-silent classroom in the middle of our english class? Yeah, that’s me.” You chuckle slightly, nodding to her and sitting down. Poe’s gaze catches your eye and he quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head.

What are you doing here?

A quick tilt of your head in Finn’s direction, then the game’s direction. Watching the game, apparently.

Raised eyebrows and the hint of a smirk. You following me?

An eyeroll and a bit-back smile. Oh yeah, definitely.

He shrugs with a smile on his face and sits down next to Rey, and you stifle a chuckle when you see her snatch the Sprite and Airheads from him, cracking the can open.

“What, do you two know each other?” It takes you a second to realize Finn’s question is directed at you and Poe.

“I mean kinda, we just ran into each other a while ago. Oh, that’s Poe. Poe, Finn, Finn, Poe.” They exchange warm smiles but nothing more.

“Well, I promise I’m not aiding him in anything,” Rey reads your mind, winking and eliciting a giggle from you. You look over to find him scrolling through his phone, earning a slight frown from you as you resume your normal position and pop a Sour Patch Kid into your mouth, mindlessly watching the game go on. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you lazily pull it out, checking the notification.

      Instagram Poe Dam(n)eron (@damndameron) has requested to follow you.

        You look over at him once again, finding him now watching the game. Hm, so we’re playing this game? All right. Opening the app, you accept his request and click on his profile, a bit surprised when you see that he’s private—he pegged you as the type of guy to have a public account. Nevertheless, you hit “Follow”, waiting a few moments before refreshing and seeing that he’s accepted, giving you full access to his profile.

You see about four posts and a few story highlights, but nothing out of the ordinary. You click on his most recent post, scrolling past the beach, a hot tub at a cabin, a picture of him and Rey at Pike’s Peak—was she his girlfriend?—and lastly, a picture of someone who you guessed was his mother and him as a baby. He’s standing on her feet in what looks like their living room and you can tell that they’re dancing, a grin frozen on his mom’s face while Poe flashes a toothy smile—his dad must’ve taken the picture. It was dated November 21, posted almost one year ago. Curious, you click on the comments and start reading through them.

kare_kun_ Thinking about all of you.

r.skywalker you'll always be her flyboy, poe.

snapwexley01 she’d be so proud of you, man.

j_pava  Wish she was still here with us. Stay strong, Poe.

The last comment makes it all click into place, and you feel a pang in your heart. He’d lost his mom. How long ago? He was maybe four years old in that picture. You suddenly feel so empathetic that all you want to do is give him a hug—he was a momma’s boy; you could read it right off his face. You keep the date in mind: November 21st.

“Well, we won.” You look up in a daze to see that the clock was 6 seconds away from halftime, the score being 31-9 in Amidala-Skywalker’s favor.

“How do you kick someone’s ass that badly?” you ask with a sort of wince even though you were on the triumphant side, clicking your phone shut.

“Like that, apparently,” Poe remarks, just before the halftime buzzer rings. “You guys wanna get out of here and go to the baseball fields or something? It’s a lot less noisy but you can still hear the game’s commentary.” You’re a bit surprised at his proposal, seeing as you four just met, but you’re definitely not opposed.

“Why not?” Finn responds, shrugging his shoulders. You four get up and leave the row, nearly getting trampled in the number of kids leaving their seats to either go get food or leave the game entirely.

“C’mon, flyboy, you’re gonna get lost!” Rey yells from behind you. Flyboy. Wonder where he got that nickname.

“Oh my God, please— He did not!” you laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth while giving Poe a disbelieving look.

It’s pitch black outside now and you four are bathed in the floodlights of the baseball stadium, sitting on the grass just by home base.

“There’s fight, there’s flight, then there’s complete idiocy. Guess which one Poe has programmed into his DNA.” Poe narrows his eyes at Rey, throwing Finn’s empty Gatorade bottle at her which she catches with ease.

“It’s not my fault I wasn’t thinking—”

“Thank you for admitting that.”

“—I was panicked! There was a s’more in my hand and I just threw it in the other direction!”

“While not thinking that the bear would come after you for more,” you add, watching him huff, seeing a hint of a pout on his face. “Remind me never to go anywhere near the woods with you.”

“I like her already,” Rey remarks, to which you crack a smile.

“How long have you two been dating?” you try to crack the question as casually as possible, but let’s face it: the anticipation is eating away at you. To your surprise, they both burst out in laughter—so they’re not together?

“Oh my God, I wouldn’t date Poe in a million years. I couldn’t handle being that much impulse control for him—He’s already a liability as my best friend,” Rey laughs, shaking her head.

“I— Rude. But honestly, I wouldn’t date you either. You don’t know how to have fun,” he exaggerates the statement with his hands. You smile at their banter, a bit surprised at their relationship’s similarity to yours and Finn’s. “How long have you two been dating?”

“We’re most definitely not dating,” Finn chuckles, earning a slap to the shoulder from you.

“No need to act like you’d never date me! Remember the kiss on the playground in third grade?” you ask sarcastically, the memory bringing back a bout of nostalgia.

“That was third grade! And I was dared to do it!” You laugh, throwing an arm around him.

“I mean Finn, you seem pretty passionate about making sure she knows you don’t like her,” Poe winks, earning a fake gag from Finn.

“Oh, please. She’s like my sister.”

“Literally,” you add. “I’m pretty sure I saw you more than I saw my own parents during my childhood.”

“You, Ben, Han, and Leia, yeah,” he nods.

“Ben, Han, and Leia..?”

“Ben’s our best friend. The three of us practically grew up together with Han and Leia—his parents.”

“Han and Leia like—Dr. Solo and Dr. Organa? The ones who teach at the school?” You nod, answering Poe’s question. “I don’t think they’re married—are they divorced?”

“Never got married,” Finn explains. “Just two best friends who had a one-night stand and actually stayed civil with each other after learning about the pregnancy. They raised Ben together—and us, too, basically.”

“I miss him,” you murmur. “Why’d his stupid ass have to want to go to that college prep school way over in New York, anyway?”

“Probably just to make Han and Leia proud after all they’ve done. Mark my words, he’ll be back here in a year or two. You don’t get the high school experience at a prep school.”

“Are you talking about First Order Preparatory, the big one in New York?” Rey interjects. “That’s not a boarding school last I checked.”

“Nah, he’s living over there with his Uncle Luke. I mean, we FaceTime and all, but it’s just not the sa—”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Poe, she’s coming over here.” Both Poe and Rey scramble to get up, leaving you and Finn to do the same while you steal a glance behind yourself, trying to see who Rey is talking about.

“Run,” Poe whispers in a panicked tone; Rey grabs his arm before he can take off.

“We’re not running, genius!” she hisses, looking behind you once more. You turn around, finally spotting a blonde wearing an orange shirt and white shorts, stripes of white paint just under her eyes. “We’re walking away. Quickly. Very quickly.” You turn around, finding them nodding to you and Finn; the four of you begin in the opposite direction from whoever the blondie was.

“Who are we r—walking very quickly away from?” you ask, keeping up at a brisk pace.

“Zorii Bliss. She’s been after Poe ever since fifth grade,” Rey explains, picking up her pace.

“Just tell her you’re not interested. Simple,” you mutter, arching an eyebrow.

“You think I haven’t tried? What was this summer, the seventh time I’ve turned her down?” Poe groans, and you suddenly feel terrible. They were actually running from this girl who’d been after them for five years. Couldn’t you get a restraining order or something? “She’s been with five guys—”

“Six,” Rey corrects.

“—six guys in the past four months. All she does is play them then blame them, all while still somehow looking like the victim. The Smoky Mountains trip we were just talking about—the bear and the s’mores? You don’t know how hard she tried to get in on that trip.”

“Sheesh,” Finn starts, “someone needs to—”

“Poe!” you hear someone, presumably Zorii, call out from behind you four.

“—get the hint,” Finn mutters, and the four of you turn around to find her just maybe fifty feet away. What the fuck, did she run to catch up or something?

“Hide me,” you hear Poe whisper, and before you can ask how, he’s already crouched behind you, arms around your waist.

“Long time no see,” she calls out, sauntering now. Aw c’mon, how about you run like you were doing before? Look all desperate for the cameras?

“What—She knows you’re here!”

“But I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

“Nope.” You start to argue with him but then stop, realizing he really didn’t want to see her.

“Aw, that’s cute.” Christ, even her voice was insufferable. She looked like a bitch, too.

You really just wanted to punch her in the face.

“What do you want, exactly?”

“Who are you, his girlfriend? Funny, Poe hasn’t really ever dated anyone.” She shuffles a bit to the side and you copy her footwork to guard Poe, watching her raise her eyebrows and laugh in disbelief. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“And you didn’t answer mine,” you quip smoothly, hearing Finn quickly stifle a laugh from beside you. She gives Finn a dirty look, and you swear you’re about to drag her from her hair right now. “What do you want?”

“I just came over to say hi to Poe since we didn’t get to meet too much over the summer,” she shrugs. “Zorii Bliss.” You don’t respond, waiting for her to make her exit. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“Couldn’t be more bothered to.” Rey sucks in a sharp breath and you’re worried that you’ve crossed some sort of line, but your stance doesn’t waver. She rolls her eyes and blows a kiss to Poe before turning on her heel and walking away—you’re sure she’s swaying her hips on purpose.

“Damn,” Poe murmurs, getting up from behind you. “You really said ‘no, bitch’ to her.” You laugh a little bit at his statement, shaking your head.

“She just really pissed me off. Hopefully that taught her a lesson and she’ll leave you alone now.”

“We can hope. I nearly fought her in the middle school parking lot once.” Finn raises his eyebrows at Rey but you just nod impressedly.

“Y’know, we should take a picture so we have something to post on Instagram,” Poe suggests. “I haven’t posted for a while.” He’s actually one of the boys who cares about his Instagram? Respect.

“Yeah, neither have I.” You shush Finn before he can start to whine about taking pictures, but Rey seems to have the same reaction as him. “Aw, c’mon you guys, it’s just one picture.”

“Fine,” Finn drawls. “Just one.”

“Maybe two,” you add with a giggle, watching him shake his head as you pull out your phone, opening the camera. “Okay, any ideas on where we should set it? Because the four of us sure as hell aren’t fitting in a square if I take a selfie.”

“If you have a popsocket, you can try to hook it inside the diamonds of the fence.”

“Good idea, flyboy,” you test the nickname out, watching his reaction closely to determine whether you’re crossing a line. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, so you breathe a sigh of relief.

After having set your phone up on the fence—“You’re taking too long. Let me do it.” “Finn, you’re not going to have any more luck than I am.” (He, in fact, didn’t)—you press the shutter button and quickly run back to the four, throwing an arm around Finn and watching Rey neck Poe, earning a laugh from you. It’s a bit too late when you realize the picture’s already been taken, and it takes about three minutes for you both to coax Finn and Rey into taking another one. The second one turns out almost perfect, though, seeming like one of those cliché VSCO pictures that everyone posts around this time.

“Numbers,” you state simply, handing your phone to Rey. She starts adding her contact information, taking a quick selfie for her contact picture and then handing the phone off to Poe. “And give me your Instagram handles, too. I’ll tag you guys when I post.”

“You already have mine,” Poe remarks while not looking up from the phone, and you’re sure that you’re the only one who can hear the slight smugness in his voice. He hands your phone back to you and you see that he’s set the picture of his annoyed face after Rey necking him as his contact photo, which makes you giggle a bit.

After you’d sent them the pictures—Poe had named the groupchat “the avengers”, which sparked a conversation about Marvel (Finn and Poe were arguing over the best Avenger right now)—you edited the pictures slightly to make them better, uploading them to Instagram with the caption, “no friendship is an accident.”.

You four were now walking out of school boundaries towards your neighborhood—yet another thing you four discovered you had in common—but you were lost in the stars, hearing traces of the current conversation on hand (something about Asgard and the Tesseract).

“Hey. Snap out of it.” Poe snaps his fingers in front of your face and you blink, shaking your head and looking back at him.

“Huh? Sorry.”

“Staring at the stars?” he asks, looking up at the sky himself.

“Yeah. Found Ursa Major and Cassiopeia,” you point out, watching him genuinely look for the constellations, humming when he sees them too. “You like stargazing?”

“I do, actually. Have a telescope in my room and everything.”

“Oh?” You’re stepping in stride with him, completely forgetting about the other two who are also with you.

“Yeah. Y’know… you need a nickname.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I dunno, I just think…” he looks up at the sky then back at you, grinning as if he’s figured something out. “Astra.”

“Astra?” you ask, recognizing the word to be Greek for “star”.

“Astra,” he confirms, nodding. You raise an eyebrow, but you can’t deny that you like it.

“Well, it’s not terrible.” You were understating. You kind of loved it.

“I’ll take that as a win.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @bbluespiritzuko, @brooklynsmorales, @marvel-dameron, @marvelinsanity​, @softly-sad, @yourbucky084, @mcolbz14

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades​, @arkofblake​, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess​, @propertyofdindjarin​, @coldbreadbouquetworld​, @melvls​, @waatermelon-sugaar​, @thedevilwearsbeskar​

Poe Dameron: @yougottakeeponkeepinon​, @poe-damnnn-eron​, @lapilark​, @peterhollandkait​, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​, @twomoonstwosuns​, @writefightandflightclub​, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust​, @legamelo​, @xremember-me-notx​, @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby​, @yourbucky084​, @agents-assemble​, @asianravenpuff​, @daydreamerinadazedworld​

“It’s Not All Roses” Taglist: @marvelous-capsicle​, @fishswimbetterunderwater​, @r2fucku, @missmadwoman​

[comradelup]

if ur still taking prompts, can i have 50 from general (“I didn’t know where else to go.”) with blupjeans? 👉👈 -ise

[TW: injury]

There’s a knock; three heavy pounds, then silence. Barry opens the door and a woman falls forward, like she had been leaning on it. She only straightens when Barry helps her up, and then he sees why.

She has an arm wrapped around her middle, and bruises littering the skin visible to him. Even when wearing a red robe, the bloodstains are visible and pronounced.

Barry looks up, at the woman’s face. It’s also bruised, and under the mask, one eye is blackened.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Phoenix Fire says, and she falls forward again, unconscious.

And Barry? He’s seen a lot of things. For someone who seems exceedingly average, he has a strange life, including being the one of the people whose life has been saved by local flamethrowing superhero Phoenix Fire.

She is… resplendent, simply put. Barry considers himself lucky that he is friends with her, or as friendly as one can get with a superhero. See, Barry has information and she acts on it. No one knows of his existence or his role in her work, but she considers them a duo. They’re coworkers, in a sense. It’s incredible to know that he’s making such an impact in his city, and it’s even more so to know that he gets to do it with such an amazing woman.

…An amazing woman that is unconscious on his couch. Barry doesn’t even know what to do, but his body acts on survival instinct, rushing to grab first aid supplies and start taking care of her.

There isn’t a lot of blood, and it’s all from random places on her body that line up with rips in the fabric of her costume. He guesses whoever she was fighting had a knife as well as a mean right hook. The thing on her side seems to be a broken rib, and it takes priority.

One wikihow article later, she’s laid on her back in a slightly upright position, which cushions under her back and knees. Barry has an ice back held over her chest with one hand, while his other tries to place a bandage on one of the cuts as neatly as possible. Maybe it’s because she’s here and she’s hurt, but Barry finds himself messing up more than he normally would.

He stops, uses her limp hand to hold the pack in place, and gets to work on the cuts with two free hands. He has to rip the fabric more to get enough room to work, and he feels a pang of guilt until he remembers that clothes are easier to fix than stab wounds. There are really only a handful of them, but the fact that the number is higher than zero makes him really, really upset.

He’s not dumb, he knows he has a crush on her. It’s the size of this city, but he doesn’t act on it. She’s adored, and rightfully so! She probably gets love declarations every other day, and she just doesn’t need her partner to add to that.

What he needs to do is help her. And he does that, carefully cleaning the cuts and applying bandages as he goes. After about twenty minutes, he removes the ice pack, and when the coolness leaves her she shifts, groans, and stills.

“Phoenix?” he asks.

She grunts, and her eyes— …eye is screwed shut. But her voice is forcibly light as she says, “Hey, babe.”

That too. Babe. How does she get away with calling him that? Moreso: how does he survive? “…Hi.”

She tries to move again, but Barry places a gentle hand on her shoulder to still her. “Take it easy. You shouldn’t be, y’know, getting up and moving around in this condition.”

She reluctantly relaxes, brow creased. Taking shallow breaths, she gingerly traces a finger over where her broken rib is. Immediately she flinches and winces, and Barry takes her hand and moves it away from her torso.

“Thanks for fixin’ me up, Barry,” she says, not letting go of his hand. She gives him a small smile.

He smiles back. “Of course.”

It lingers for a moment, with Phoenix just looking into his eyes and holding his hand, before she eventually lets go. Her hands fold on top of her chest, and she lets him get back to work.

FUCK. “Um. How did you end up… like this?” he asks, going back to his bandage application.

Her eyes stay closed. “Fightin’ bad guys, babe. It’s what I do.”

“I could tell that much,” Barry says, “Was it anyone in particular?”

“Nah. Some guys trying to mug this poor boy. I got him away but the guys ganged up on me,” Phoenix says, “They were just dudes, not like, a supervillain, so I didn’t use my powers on ‘em. I just sorta… beat them up. Knocked them unconscious and called my brother to come deal with them. I still don’t trust cops with things like that.”

Barry hums, nodding. Phoenix’s brother is almost like a celebrity, he’s someone that Barry always hears about but has never seen in person. How he “deals” with cases like this is still a mystery to him. Somehow he always makes sure they’re safe but properly dealt with.

“Mmm… you got a remedy for this?” Phoenix asks, and Barry looks over to see her pointing at her black eye.

“Oh, yeah, hold on.” Barry grabs the ice pack again. It’s not too cold, but it’ll do for now. He passes it to her and she carefully places it over her eye.

He goes back to silently cleaning and bandaging. Once he’s done, he sits back on his heels and starts cleaning up the floor around the couch, littered with first aid supplies. “I think I’ve done all I can. I mean, you should probably go to a hospital or something but, you know, you’ll make it through the rest of today.”

“Thanks,” Phoenix says, “I think I’ll be fine, thanks to you.”

Her uninjured eye is closed, so she doesn’t see Barry’s blush. “Glad I could help.”

She smiles. “You always do.”

And Barry doesn’t really know what to say to that. Phoenix says, “Wanna know a secret?”

A secret? “Sure?”

“My name begins with L,” Phoenix says, opening her eye to grin at Barry.

That’s… “Are you sure you wanna be, um, telling me that?”

She nods. “You can call me that, if you want.”

“Elle?” he asks, and she nods again. “Okay… Elle.”

She smiles, cheerful, and Barry feels the sappy feelings tailor made for her bloom in his chest. Her smile falls eventually, and it’s replaced with a tiredness Barry is sure he’s never even experienced, and he’s pulled too many all-nighters to count.

“I don’t think I’m concussed, so I think I can sleep, right?” Elle asks. Her eye slips closed anyways.

“I think so,” he says, “But do you wanna sleep here? Or go home?”

“I’ll stay here. I trust you.”

She trusts him? “Okay,” he says simply.

“I’ll need a new ice pack once I wake up though,” she says, “This ain’t my first rodeo.”

Barry chuckles. “I know.”

She smiles, one last time, then she lets the exhaustion of her day pull her into sleep. And call him creepy, or weird, but Barry watches her sleep. He watches the rise and fall of her chest, and it reminds him that she’s real, that he’s real, and that life goes on, no matter what.

[lluvguts]

dog-ears, or bookmarks? // reddie

pairing: kid! richie tozier / eddie kaspbrak

warnings/genre: purely fluff! lots of (wholesome) pining!

word count: 1894

summary: A reddie library meet cute

Ten year old Eddie Kaspbrak clutched his mother’s sweaty hand as they ascended the stairs in the Derry Public Library. He could smell her floral perfume as they went, rolling off her in stifling waves to mask the stains of sweat on her sheer dress. Eddie counted the steps, each one closer toward the kid’s section of the library and further from that stinky perfume. It reminded him of the mornings Eddie had to stand by his mother’s bedside, holding his nose as the whole room reeked of grandmothers and mildewy furniture, to take his medicine.

His mother stopped mid-climb to fix her eyes on Eddie’s wrinkled nose and shortened breaths.

“Are you alright dear?” She asked.

Eddie nodded and ducked away from her coddling hands, reaching to feel his pulse and ensure he still had his inhaler.

“I’m fine, Mommy,” Eddie whined, wiping his streaming eyes. “Do you have your library card?”

She straightened up and wiped her damp hands along the front of her chest. “Of course I do, Eddie dear. You know the rules, you get to look for one approved book while I sit and read.”

“Yes Mommy,” Eddie murmured as they reached the second floor and took in the rows and rows of bookshelves and children’s painted tables. Eddie could hardly contain his excitement. The library was one of his favorite places to go―it was quiet, orderly, and smelled clean most of the time. It was the only place Eddie could slip into the old pages of a book as his regular self and close them, a new person. A detective, a brave knight, a dragon, anything but the delicate little boy he really was. Eddie didn’t think being so soft was fair at all―even if his mother believed that a boy did not need a magnifying glass, a suit of armor, or the ability to breathe fire to get through life safely.

His mother patted his shoulder. “Now Eddie, I’ll be over here by the coloring tables. When you find a book, bring it to me so I can check it for you.”

Eddie groaned internally as he padded away from her clammy grip. She hardly let him pick out books he liked, her “book checks'' were always: “That one looks a bit scary, Eddie dear,” Or “Heavens, of course not! Don’t you see that ghost on the front? I don’t want to start giving my Eddie nightmares now.”

But maybe this time it would be different. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find a good book to read―or even better: some company.

Eddie realized with a thudding chest as he walked, it was different. He’d headed straight for the kid’s section typically filled with the horror books when a shoe poking out from the two bookcases stopped him. The sneaker was attached to a leg, attached to a skinny boy sprawled out on his back with a book inches from his pale face. Scattered around him were stacks of paperbacks, and Eddie hovered over his lanky frame with a slight grin. The boy was reading the Goosebumps books.

“I haven’t read that one,” Eddie whispered, crouching down between the shelves so his mother wouldn’t see. He pointed at the book in the boy’s hands, and that was when Eddie could see his face. Clunky glasses framed his deep brown eyes, and a mess of blackish brown hair hung just below his eyebrows. When Eddie met his sly glance, magnified behind his glasses, both boys broke out in childish grins.

“The Werewolf of Fever Swamp? It’s a classic,” The boy stated. He staggered upright, adjusting his frames, then stuck out his arm. Eddie blinked at the boy’s hand, fascinated as some of his fingers were decorated in Spiderman Band-Aids and his wrist was covered in Rainbow Loom bracelets.

The dark-haired boy frowned, as if he were truly hurt by Eddie’s hesitation. “You’re supposed to shake my hand.”

“Oh.” Was all Eddie could muster. He slipped his hand into the other boy’s and they shook like esteemed gentlemen. His palms weren’t sweaty and flushed like Eddie’s mother’s, but thin and soft in all the right places. It made a weird feeling buzz around in Eddie’s stomach, like he was about to throw up a swarm of butterflies.

“My name’s Richie.”

Eddie liked the sound of his name. He liked the way Richie said it, being able to see his teeth when he whispered. Richie, Richie, Richie.

“I’m Eddie,” He murmured back, scooting aside one of the piles of Goosebumps books to make room.

“Eddie.” Richie tried the word, as if it were a new piece of candy on his tongue.

Eddie noticed that Richie’s copy of The Werewolf of Fever Swamp had been closed before he could mark his place. With a little burst of pride Eddie turned to his fanny pack―the very one his mother would not let him out of the house without―for the bookmarks he had made. Himself. It was something Eddie enjoyed doing, when his mother was not nagging him on his vitamins or forcing him to sit through reruns of Wheel of Fortune.

Eddie thumbed through the few bookmarks he’d brought, hoping Richie would like the one he’d drawn a Stormtrooper on.

“Here,” He started, handing over the taped up strip of paper. “You didn’t save your spot.”

Richie stared at Eddie’s bookmark with a pink face then shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay, Eds. I don't use bookmarks.” He whispered quickly.

“Then what do you use?” Eddie asked, growing worried that Richie did use bookmarks, just not ones from delicate little strangers at the library. Eddie thought he was tough, tough enough to use the grown up scissors by himself and not get cut. Maybe Richie would see he wasn’t as weak as the kids at the play yard thought he was.

He whispered it like a delicious secret between them. “Just fold the sides here, y’see?” Richie held up the book, and sure enough, a dog-eared corner showed his last page. “I’m gonna keep reading. Do you want me to, uh, read out loud?”

Read out loud? No one had ever offered Eddie to read with them. Most of the time he read his books alone, with the stuffed animals on the tops of the shelves as his only friends. Those butterflies came fluttering back inside Eddie’s body, but this time they nuzzled hot into his lungs so all he did was nod hurriedly, afraid they’d spill out.

Richie grinned again and shuffled over to Eddie’s side, leaning against a bookshelf. He propped the book on his knobby knees and began where he’d left off.

As he read Eddie became transfixed by the soft, boyish timbre of Richie’s voice, no longer listening to the story but to the short catch of breath as he whispered each eerie sentence.

He craned his neck closer toward Richie’s shoulder to see the pages for himself, and was met with the smell of bubblegum coming from Richie’s lips. Eddie’s eyes glanced briefly at them, more interested in their softness―Richie was lost in the story, hardly paying attention to him―and the sweet taste his words left in the air. Richie read the next passage in a fake, trembling-all-over voice, and for effect, flinched backward as if frightened. Richie’s shoulder met Eddie’s chin and for a second, Eddie didn’t think much about his next choice as he let it rest there. Richie didn’t seem to mind either. He flipped the pages with Eddie’s head on his shoulder and they listened together about the ill-fated Tucker family. Eddie’s heart began to falter.

Arrhythmia. His mother’s ghost word appeared in Eddie’s mind, though he didn’t know what it really meant. He thought it was something that happened when your heart got so excited it wouldn’t beat right for you.  

But it wasn’t the story that made Eddie’s heart excited. It was Richie. It was the way his dark eyes glistened behind his glasses. It was his electric blue Hawaiian button up and the white undershirt tucked inside his shorts. It was in his kindness to even be sitting next to Eddie. It was the fact that he was no longer alone at the library.

Richie had stopped reading at the sound of a shrill whisper echoing through the stillness.

“Eddie! It’s time to go back home.”

“That’s my mom,” Eddie said with a sad sigh, shifting away from Richie’s shoulder and looking up at his fixed expression.

“What?”

Richie thrust the book into Eddie’s fingers. “You read it.”

Eddie stared down at the cover as he got off the floor. His heart jumped to its own rhythm again, forgetting to beat a few times when Richie eased back on the stiff carpet and picked up Vampire Breath instead. Eddie didn’t want to leave. He wanted to sit back down with Richie and finish the chapter, the whole book, the piles all around him, all so that stovetop heat would return to his cheeks and he’d melt at Richie’s words all over again. Maybe Eddie didn’t exactly need a knight’s armor for things like this, when he felt like a warm dish of butter. To have a friend.

Eddie decidedly slipped the Stormtrooper bookmark into the front page and bent down to set it on one of the piles. “I don’t think she’ll let me take it. She’ll say it’s too scary or something.”

Richie put Vampire Breath on his chest and thought for a moment.

“Come back next weekend, maybe I can get my mom to meet yours,” Richie murmured back, then winced at Sonia’s panicked call for her son again.

“What for?”

“So you can come to my house...I’ve got all his books in my room.” Richie said with a blush. “Plus comics.”

“But,” Eddie peered over the shelves in worry, thankful he didn’t see his mother’s looming body yet. “Why would you wanna hang out with me?”

Richie didn’t miss a beat, though his cheeks were red. “Cause you’re a cool dude, Eds.”

“Eddie! I said one book, mister.”

Eddie stood over Richie like he had been a while ago, at a loss of what to say. He could still hardly believe that someone would want to spend time with him. The idea that he was cool. Eddie had an inhaler and religiously wore a fanny pack and thought of himself as anything but cool.  

“So you’ll come back then?” Richie asked hopefully, his eyes wide behind the lenses.

“S-Sure, Richie. I’ll be back.”

As he walked away he heard the sound of Richie’s book pages flipping, and the angry eyes of his mother bore down on him.

“What were you doing this whole time?” She demanded in a strained voice. “You kept me waiting, I was worried you’d been kidnapped.”

Eddie felt that familiar constricting in his throat again whenever his mother was nearby. All of the words from the books disappeared. He didn’t live in the pages of R. L. Stine anymore; he was nestled inside the chokehold of delicate and weak and asthmatic.

But maybe next time Eddie could enter the Derry Public Library doors a different boy. One that may still be a bit fragile and small, but had someone else to walk through the aisles with. Had someone else to read with. And he wasn’t alone.

[lu-undy]

Valentine’s Day 6 - Confession/Heart

I had two ideas so here you go! First one is Heart + Confession, read it here on AO3!

Or under the cut!

"Would you like more wine?" 

"If you still don't charge for it, yeah." 

"I might start doing it."

"No, you won't…!"

Spy chuckled and filled Sniper's glass again. 

"Oi, no, Hootsy, wine's not for you, mate." Sniper gently pushed his pet owl away from the glass. "You got water with Spy's kitty." 

"Hoo!"

"What's this talkin' back now, eh? Who taught you that?"

"Meow!" Spy's long haired, white cat jumped on the coffee table and supported her feathery friend. 

"Course, Spy's kitty taught you that, eh?" 

"How dare you?" Spy answered and his cat hopped on his lap. She purred as the man in the mask ran his fingers through her luscious fur. "Perle's manners are irreprochable, Bushman." 

Sniper chuckled. Spy looked like a Bond villain stroking his cat like that, one leg on the other, sitting on the sofa next to him. The light from the fireplace added to the theatrics of it.

"Yeah, as much as yours, eh, you thief."

"Are you talking about the cigarette from the other day, again? It was not theft." 

"What was it, then? Robbery?"

"Non, a magic trick." 

"Oh, right, yeah, a magic trick where you steal my cigarette off my very lips never to be seen again?" 

"Besides, how could you possibly know it was me?" Spy asked with a playful smirk.

"Cause the cig started floatin' on its own. Not a lot of people can cloak and do that, Spook." 

"It could have been the enemy Spy, non?" Spy teased further. 

"Nah, it was you."

"Again, how could you know?" 

"The other Spy would've just backstabbed me and gone away. You're the constant pain in the neck!"

Spy chuckled and took a sip of his wine.

"So if I understand correctly, the pain he inflicts is in your back, while the one I do is on your neck?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that." Sniper answered his friend's chuckles.

"Well then, no wonder why you keep complaining about your back, hm? And look at your posture… Straighten your back, Bushman." 

"Can't. Hurts too much." Sniper tried but the pain stopped his motion. 

"Has it always been hurting like that? Perhaps you should see Medic about it?"

"Nah, it's just the rifle's weight. I used to be doin' a few contracts here and there so I didn't really have to hold it and strain m'self for days on end. Now in Mann Co., things are quite different."

"Hm. I see. Still, maybe it is worth having it checked by Medic if it is indeed that painful?" 

"Nah, the guy's a freak. Chances are he'll open me up and put a brain or something in my back, ugh!" Sniper winced.

"As much as he is a freak, he is the medical expert here and knows his trade." 

"Meow…" Perle went to Sniper's lap and he scratched her jaw. She purred. 

"Yeah, I know… Still, the idea of goin' to him gets me more tense." Sniper answered.

"Do you want me to go with you?" 

Sniper looked at Spy. He expected to see mischievous eyes with a hint of mockery in his voice. He found none of that. Spy seemed genuinely in the mood to help him.

"Nah. I just don't like goin' there unless I really have to. But uh, thanks, eh?"

They exchanged a gaze and a grin. 

"May I then suggest something else?" Spy asked. 

"What?" 

"Give me your back." 

"What? No, you're a Spook!"

"Bushman, I am not the one who stabs you in the back. Apparently, I only weigh on your neck…!"

Sniper was still hesitant. 

"And who have you shared most of your evenings with as of late? And who are you getting drunk with today, on a Friday night, hm?" Spy raised a playful eyebrow. 

"You…"

"Getting yourself drunk with me is way more dangerous than facing the other way and giving me your back. Now, please…" Spy gently pushed his cat aside and scooted closer to the Aussie. "Your back." He gestured to Sniper to turn. 

"Right…" Sniper sighed and turned on the sofa. "But I swear, if you put one of your butter knives there…!"

"Breathe." Spy put his hands on Sniper's shoulders. "And let your shoulders fall."

"Mph…" Sniper grumbled. 

"Silence and follow my instructions, Bushman. To think that you normally are the least sociable… And now, when you would benefit from remaining quiet, that is when you decide to speak…! Good. Now…" 

Sniper didn't see it but Spy removed his gloves before putting his hands on the Aussie's polo shirt again, on his shoulders. 

"Here is your spine…" Spy let his fingers slither down slowly, gently tapping Sniper's vertebrae. 

"Playin' the drums on my back now?"

"Shush! I am counting!" 

"What the hell are you counting? The places to put a knife?" 

"Non, you fool…" Spy chuckled. "I am counting your vertebrae. And to answer your worries, if I were to put a blade in your back, I would put it here." Spy gently pressed his index and middle finger slightly left from Sniper's spine. "Hm. I can feel the stab scars left by my counterpart through your shirt."

"Yeah, you both stab where it hurts, eh?" 

"Namely, straight to the heart." Spy said and Sniper chuckled. 

"Almost romantic, eh?" 

"It is absolutely so!" Spy answered as his palms slid to Sniper's shoulder blades. He started pressing harder. 

"Oh, is it now - ouch?! That hurt…!"

"Oui, I can feel the knots." Spy confirmed. "Take a deep breath, I will work on them." 

"Right… Be gentle, ok? It hurts when you press it down…"

"Never has anyone complained about my massages in the past. Relax." 

Sniper thanked the Lord Spy was behind him and couldn't see the pink on his cheeks. 

"Here… Do you feel this…? This is one knot… It is a bundle of muscles that has decided to stay tense because you are making it work too much…"

"Spook?"

"What now, Bushman? A witty remark about how muscular your back is? Oui, it is more muscular than what I thought, now, please, remain silent and continue breathing deep and slowly."

"N-no, Spook…" Sniper's cheeks turned a shade more pink. "Shouldn't I be lying down for this?" 

Spy stopped sharp and his eyebrows jumped. 

"Oui, you should. But seeing how reluctant you were to give me your back, I did not want to suggest anything more."

"It's ok. If you think it's better for me to lie down, then I'll do it." Sniper answered. 

"You can't lie on this sofa, you are too tall and wouldn't be comfortable. I am afraid the only piece of equipment that might work is my bed." 

"Uh…"

"I have no issue with this but will understand if you would rather sit here."

"No, it's fine. Let's get there. My back's been killing me for long enough." Sniper answered. 

"Are you sure?" Spy's hand sank down and Sniper turned to him.

"Well, if you wanted to stab me with your tiny knife, you'd have done it by now, right?" He smiled.

"I would have indeed." Spy nodded and returned the grin. "Follow me." 

Both stood up and Spy led the way to his bedroom right next door from his smoking room. 

"Jesus, that's the biggest bed I've seen in my life, d'you never drown in there?"

Spy rolled his eyes and gave a small chuckle. 

"Lie down on your stomach."

"D'you need my shirt off?" 

"Almost romantic, eh?" Spy quoted Sniper. 

"Alright, Spook, don't make it weird…!" 

"You are the one who suggested removing your shirt as you entered my bedroom." Spy answered. 

"Yeah but not like that…!" 

Both chuckled. 

"If you so wish, you may, it would indeed be more practical for me. In that case, let me get more comfortable too." Spy removed his tie and undid his cufflinks before rolling his sleeves up along his forearms. 

"Wooh, Spy with no tie? You alright? Not feelin' too naked?" Sniper snickered. 

"Barely." Spy answered with a smirk. "Now, if I am to work on your bare back let me bring some oil." He walked to his night table and opened the small cupboard door. Sniper saw multiple bottles there.

"Oil? What're you gonna do? Season me and cook me? I knew you Frenchies ate weird stuff but come on…!" 

Spy retrieved a small glass bottle. 

"Says the man who can eat whatever crosses his scope in this God forsaken desert." 

"Yeah well… It's good if you know how to grill it. Should come around one day and try. I'm good with a barbie." Sniper removed his top, giving his back to Spy before turning to him. "So, want me on my belly?" 

Spy raised one interested eyebrow. It might have been because of Sniper's invitation, or his physique, perhaps even both.

"Oui, please. And you are inviting me to play with dolls? I did not take you for one with such interests, Bushman."

"What?" 

"You said, and I quote, 'I'm good with a barbie.' Barbies are dolls for little girls." Spy motioned his colleague to lie and Sniper did, on his stomach and laughed. 

"I'm not talkin' about Barbie dolls, you genius. A barbie for us is a barbeque!" 

"Ah…" Spy smiled. "It would make more sense than a feral Bushman playing with little girls' toys." He spread just a splash oil in the palm of his hands and rubbed them together. 

"Oof, your hands are cold, Spook…!" Sniper's body tensed at the first touch with Spy's hands.

"Like my blood, if I believe your words…" 

Sniper smiled. 

"Right, I'm sorry. I don't think you're that cold." 

Spy rolled his eyes with a sweet grin. 

"I know, Sniper, I know." Spy rubbed his hands slowly on Sniper's back. "Are you comfortable here?" 

"Your bed's the best thing I've ever laid on in my life… You must fall asleep in the blink of an eye…"

"Believe it or not, I rarely do."

"Really…?"

"Mh-hm." Spy let his hands explore Sniper's back. Slow circles, pushing his palms between the shoulder blades, kneading the skin and soft muscles underneath.

"That's where you get yer beauty sleep from, eh?"

"What? You make no sense, mon ami. The wine is getting to you." Spy softly chuckled.

[My friend]

"No… It's yer hands… And yeah, I'm as comfy as I could ever be…"

"That, I am not sure of. Here, lay your head on my pillow." Spy pushed it and Sniper obeyed. 

"Christ, what is it made of? Angel wings' feathers…? That's gotta be the softest thing ever…" Sniper felt his head delicately sink on his colleague's pillow, and took a deep breath. Gosh, it smelt of a mix of Spy's perfume and the scent of his shampoo, it smelt expensive, subtle and minty...

"Almost, almost… But oui, now you are comfortable. And please, relax." Spy started running his fingers around the Aussie’s spine again.

"It's hard…"

"Why?" Spy was now whispering. 

"Cause… I don't know." 

"Let me help… Please." Spy went on whispering, and between the slow waves of his menthol-tinted whispers whirling in the air and the movements of his hands, sliding on the Aussie's back, pushing the muscles to surrender, Sniper gently closed his eyes. 

"Spook…?"

"Hm?" 

"Thanks." 

"You are more than welcome." Spy was on his knees, next to Sniper's body. 

"No… Really…" 

"And oui, really, you are welcome." Spy didn't realise it but the smile he had lingered on his lips for a long while, while silence fell in the room. The smell of the oil rose and filled the air. It was pinetrees, a fresh forest under Spy's skilled and warm fingers. 

"Sniper, please, I can feel you are tense…"

"Sorry… Havin' a spy behind my back isn't easy to accept." 

"Hm. Let me try something." Spy stepped off of the bed and behind his shut eyelids, Sniper saw the lights in the room drop. He opened his eyes and saw that Spy had indeed switched the lights off.

"Spook?"

"Shh, now," Spy hopped on the bed to resume his position next to Sniper's body. "Close your eyes again."

"Spy, it's worse, now I can't see you."

"You couldn't see me before either, your eyes were closed." 

"Y-yeah, guess you're right." 

"Close your eyes again and breathe in long and slow breaths, from your lower stomach preferably." Spy started the massage again.

"Why?" Sniper asked yet obeyed anyway. 

"Because this is how newborns breathe, from their lower stomachs, not filling their chests with air. Carefree, baby breaths are from your diaphragm, not your lungs." 

"Really…?"

"Oui."

"How d'you know that…?" Sniper's words were slower and Spy smiled. 

"Contrary to you, I live in the city where I experience these wild exchanges called social interactions…"

"Spook…?" Sniper's lips pursed up in a smile.

"What that means is that I use my vocal chords to communicate with other human beings." Spy went on with his teasing, as well as with the massage. He could feel the knots below his hand.

"Spook, I know what you mean…"

"Oh, my apologies. I assumed a feral Bushman like you would hardly understand." 

"Pfff, you and your big words…" 

Spy smiled. 

"But you like my big words, as you call them, and you don't want me to stop talking."

Sniper's lips retracted and his smile slowly vanished.

"W-what…?" 

"I have never heard you ask me that many things or question me that much for as long as I know you."

"It's the wine, Spook…"

"Non, it is not. We have been drunk before, together, and more than just this. Non, there is something else." Sniper fell silent.  "Something that annoys you, I can feel you tense again under my hands." 

"Mmh…" Sniper grumbled.

"You may speak it out if you so wish." 

"I just… I like your voice. It's calm. That's it." 

Spy smiled.

"And I, your sense of humour." He answered. 

"Hm, that's just cause you're a posh snob but deep down… You're just a simple bloke…" Sniper's voice was different. He sounded almost sleepy. It made Spy's smile widen. 

"I might be." He simply replied as he moved on to the next knot. Now, he applied pressure to specific points, circling around firmly yet not too much, just what was needed to slowly bring the tension down. "Since you seem to like hearing me, may I tell you a story?" 

"Sure…" 

"This is a classic French poem. It was written to educate Louis the 15th as a young boy." 

"Mmh…" Sniper smiled. He didn't have the energy to mock his friend. 

"It is called Le corbeau et le renard, the crow and the fox." Spy started and then recited it in French. 

To Sniper, it was gibberish. God only knew what Spy was reciting. But it rhymed, the rhythm was soothing, it rocked Mundy almost to sleep and what a velvet voice… He could listen to it for hours without tiring. 

As he recited the poem from memory, Spy untied the remaining knots on Sniper's shoulders. When he finished, he did not stop massaging. He went on, because he liked hearing Sniper's soft mumbles, his groans as the tension exited his body and dissolved away. 

Sniper was somewhere between asleep and awake, in that limbo where nothing was exactly real or a dream. His body had completely sunk in Spy's mattress and pillow, and everything felt heavy now, so heavy… 

The Frenchman finished the poem but went on, seamlessly. He jumped from one poem written more than a hundred years before for a prince, to one he was improvising for a friend.

"Et je n'oserais jamais t'avouer, 

[And I would never admit]

Ce secret qui me hante, qui me fait rêver,

[This secret that haunts me, that dream,]

Sentir ta peau, glisser sous mes doigts curieux, 

[To feel your skin slide under my curious fingers,]

Sentir ton repos, et te voir aussi heureux. 

[To feel you rest and to see you so peaceful.]

Si j'étais un homme de grand courage, 

[If I was a man of great courage,]

Je te le dirais.

[I would tell you]

Qu'avant de dormir je vois une image,

[That before falling asleep I see one image,]

Celle de tes yeux sur moi pour l'éternité."

[That of your eyes on me for eternity.]

Spy stopped and sighed. The whole room now smelt like a forest in winter, yet the air was warm. He winced and started regretting it. Even though it was in French, declaring his love for his colleague was… odd. Arh, he shouldn't have. Such words don't need a translation to be understood. 

"Spook…?" 

"Oui?" 

"That prince's poem…"

"What about it?"

"Longest poem I've ever heard in my life." Sniper answered, his mouth half in the pillow, and his voice slightly muffled. Spy grinned.

"Well, I do apologise. I did not want to bore you." 

"Nah… It's fine. But uh… The end…"

"Oui?"

"Rhythm's different…" 

Spy raised an eyebrow but then shook his head.

"Indeed." 

"Why…?"

"Because it is not part of the poem." 

"What d'you mean?" 

"I… took the liberty to add a few verses, which by the way have nothing to do with the poem itself." Spy admitted.

"Oh…? What did you add…? I mean, what's it mean?"

Spy smiled, albeit sadly. He fell silent, thinking of the best way to answer. Meanwhile, Sniper sat up and turned to him. 

"Spook…? What is it?" He sat cross-legged in front of Spy who was sitting on his knees, his head lowered. 

"Sniper?"

"Yeah?" 

"If… If you were to put an arrow through me," Spy started, and Sniper listened carefully. They felt alone in the world in the intimacy of Spy's bedroom, in total darkness. "Where would you put it?" 

Sniper raised his index and poked Spy on his chest. "Like you with your knife, through your heart." 

Spy nodded and lowered his head again. He sat on his behind and raised his knees in front of him before wrapping his arms around his legs. 

"Why are you askin' this?" 

"Because you did exactly that, thus answering your own question better than I could have."

"What…?" Sniper took a moment to think. He had asked Spy what were those words that he improvised at the end of his poem, and the Frenchman had made him say that he put an arrow through his heart? "But I'd never shoot you, you're a teammate." Sniper answered. 

"I am a teammate?" Spy answered and Sniper clearly heard distress, maybe even disappointment. 

"Yeah, and a good mate." Sniper put his hand on Spy's shoulder and the Frenchman sighed. "What is it, Spy? Tell me?"

"And I would never admit

This secret that haunts me, that dream,

To feel your skin slide under my curious fingers,

To feel you rest and to see you so peaceful.

If I was a man of great courage,

I would tell you

That before falling asleep I see one image,

That of your eyes on me for eternity."

Sniper's jaw dropped. 

"These are the few verses that I added." Spy sighed and put a hand over his eyes. "Of course, it rhymes in French." 

Sniper opened round eyes of surprise. 

"Spook…" 

"Non. You don't need to say anything." Spy wiggled his shoulder to move Sniper's hand away and stood off of the bed. He headed for the bedroom's door. "You may dress back up and leave. I apologise and will understand if you wish to not spend more time with me." 

Sniper was about to answer but Spy left the bedroom and shut the door. He leaned his back on it and sank to the floor, hiding his face in his hands. 

What a moment of weakness…! Bravo, Spy, bravo. Four decades of existence and romantic adventures to ruin this. Remarkable! One would think that with more than forty years of existence and more than twice that number of romantic conquests, Spy would know better. But non. Or at least, not when it counted. 

If the seduction was part of the mission, then yes, of course, it would be a piece of cake. Spy would just be himself and chances are the person would fall. 

But Sniper was not part of any mission. He just happened to be the kind of company that Spy so rarely experienced. Witty remarks, banter, teasing… Everything was perfect with him, it flowed naturally and he didn't have to hide his job to the Aussie! 

There was close to no lies between them. Well, apart from Spy's feelings for his colleague. 

"Spook?"

Spy removed his hands off his face. Sniper was right on the other side of the door. 

"Spook, I know you're here… Uh… Can I open the door?" 

Spy pushed his heavy self back on his feet and adjusted his shirt. 

"Oui, you may. My apologies." He turned and went back to the sofa where he saw the bottle of wine, the glasses on the coffee table. Next to them, Hootsy was sleeping, wrapped in Perle's fur. 

Sniper pushed the door and entered the smoking room. 

"Uh… Spy?" He approached the sofa from behind.

Spy raised his hand to cut him short. He didn't want to drag this situation and make it more awkward. 

Sniper sighed. He stayed there, planted behind the sofa for a second. But then he frowned and walked around to sit next to the Frenchman. 

"Spy?" 

"What now? I told you, you may leave." 

"Where would you put your knife if you wanted to stab me from the front?" 

"What?" Spy finally turned to Sniper.

"Show me."

"Sniper-"

"Where?" He insisted. 

"You know where."

"Spook, just show it to me." 

"There." Spy nodded to Sniper's chest. 

"With your finger…" 

Spy sighed and pointed at Sniper's heart. 

"There, are you satisfied, now?' 

"No." Sniper wrapped his palm around Spy's finger and kept it hanging in the air in front of his chest. "Open your hand." 

"What?"

"Open your hand, c'mon." 

Spy obeyed and opened his palm.

"Now close your eyes." 

"Sniper, where is this going?" Spy asked, irritated.

"Nowhere if you don't do what I'm sayin'. Now, eyes, shut." 

Spy sighed and frowned but obeyed.

"Here…" Sniper pulled Spy's entire hand to his chest. "Now tell me what you said again."

"What? Why? You want to humiliate me now?" Spy opened his eyes.

"Shut up and bloody do it!" 

They locked eyes and stared madly at each other until Spy's eyebrows relaxed. If those were his last moments of friendship with Sniper, he would do anything the Aussie asked him. He closed his eyes again.

"And do it in French, please." 

Spy rolled his eyes behind his shut eyelids. Oui, Sniper, anything you want, he thought.

And so he repeated the few verses of his improvised poem. Spy knew how to appreciate poetry, not only in words but in any situation. Yet, he wasn't as good when it comes to making some of his own. 

As he recited the lines that he started to know by heart now, he felt Sniper's chest bumping against his palm harder and faster. Spy opened his eyes and looked down at Sniper's chest, then back up at his collar that he saw was trembling. He frowned, not understanding why Sniper’s heart would wake up while hearing gibberish…

Soon enough, he finished.

“D’you feel it?” Sniper asked and Spy frowned, lowering his eyes.

“I feel your heart, oui.”

“No, you felt it. Stop lyin’, Spook, be clear!”

“I am!”

“No!” Sniper answered and Spy looked away. “Please… You’re not making it easy for either of us. Just say what you think.”

“Fine. Oui, I felt your heart beat faster as I spoke. Why? Were you holding back laughter?”

“Why d’you always have to think that I’m mocking you? No! It’s the opposite, you idiot, I was bein’ moved!” Spy’s eyebrows jumped. “Yeah, I was bein’ moved! I… Look I have no idea what you just said meant, but I can feel it, ok? Listen to you when you speak French, you sound completely different! You don’t sound like a cold-blooded snake and you don’t sound like you’re just a mate, you sound so… so… sensitive!”

Spy’s blush was visible, even with his mask on. He was thankful the lights were off. Sniper tightened his grip on Spy’s hand.

“C’mere…” He pulled Spy from behind his neck and stuck his head on his chest. “Listen… D’you hear that?” Sniper whispered and Spy nodded against his chest. “What is it?”

“Your heart.”

“Yeah, now sit up, let me listen…” Sniper pushed his head against Spy’s chest and the Frenchman blushed beyond his ears. He started sweating under his mask. “I can hear yours. It does the same thing as mine.”

“What do you mean?” Spy asked.

“Gosh, you’re thick sometimes! Well, I love you too, you idiot! There, I said it, is that clearer? It’s gotta be, can’t make it more clear than that, eh?”

Spy slowly grinned, and his smile transformed in a smirk.

“Why’re you smug now?”

Spy poked Sniper’s heart.

“Boom, stabbed right in the heart, and you confessed before I did.”

“Wha-Spook!”

Spy chuckled. 

“I love you too, Bushman. Viens ici…”

[Come here...]

Spy pulled Sniper from his collar and kissed him passionately. When the surprise passed, and it soon did, Sniper wrapped his arms around Spy, one hand around his waist, the other on his back, pulling him to himself equally strongly. When their lips parted, both chuckled.

“I hate you when you play me like that, Spook.”

“Non, you don’t.”

“Shut up...” Sniper chuckled. 

“Not a chance.”

“Pfff…”

Their embrace lasted and they clung to each other, Spy’s head beneath Sniper’s jaw.

“Sniper?”

“Yeah?”

“Straighten your back.”

“Not my fault, you’re small.”

“It is your fault. You are too tall.”

“Tiny snake.”

“Giant kangaroo.”

“I love you.” Sniper tightened the hug.

“So do I, and I don’t intend to massage you everyday, so please, straighten your posture.”

“Nah.” Sniper answered.

“Why? Is it just to annoy me?”

“Partly, yeah.”

“What is the other part?” Spy asked, his eyes closed in the safety of the Aussie’s arms.

“The other part in me thinks that it wants more massages from you. You got amazing hands.” Sniper answered.

“Mh, you have seen nothing of what my hands are able to do, Bushman.” 

Spy smirked as he heard Sniper’s heartbeat jump under his masked ear. 

[itwillbeall-dwight]

trials in error

danny "jed olsen" johnson | the ghost face/felix richter; fluff and angst; canon-typical violence; enemies to fwb to lovers to enemies lmao; 5677 words

a/n: did i finish two fics in the same day? yes i did. i’ve had this done since one in the morning but didn’t want to post it them bc no one would see it by the time it was flushed out of the tag bc tumblr hates fic writers for real actually.

my friend booker is to blame for this. they mentioned this pair to me offhandedly but then i turned around and made this, and basically learned 2 things. 1) writing danny is fun, and 2) i have. a lot of feelings. about them.

while i have a couple of long pieces to finish, requests are still open, so if you liked this and would like smthn written, feel free to shoot me an ask!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “Tell you what.” He folded his arms over the top of the generator, looking the man in the face as he rested the side of his head against his forearm. “You’re still a noob, and I can’t be having anything fun with that. I’ll give you, hm… 10 seconds to run and hide, phone a friend, you know… not die, but after that, you’re all mine. Sound good?” The blonde remained silent, blinking at him in bewilderment. That was as good of an answer as any. “Alright. 10-” “Ah, wait, but what about-” “-9-” He didn’t say anything after that, dropping the wires in his hands and taking off into a sprint, stumbling as he stood to his full height - and oh boy, was he a tall guy - and turned a corner of old cars. Danny chuckled, standing up to rest his ass against the side of the gen, flipping his knife in his hand as he kept counting down. “8… 7… 6-5-4-3-2-1- ok, here we go.”

Another day, another trial. As the fog cleared from his vision, the Ghostface flipped his small knife in his hand, feeling the silent breeze whistle through the tendrils on his uniform. The Autohaven Wreckers was as sorry of a sight as it always was, but one that he’d grown quite accustomed to use as his playground. From the sight of the old garage, he could almost pick out memories of all the times he’d scared the pants off of the poor survivors, which he took more than enough pleasure in doing. Danny looked around, still absently flipping his knife in his hand as he formulated a plan, taking a brief moment to watch the ever-present moonlight glint off of the freshly cleaned blade before he looked up once more, a slow grin forming behind the mask as the game began.

 Poor Meg thought he was stupid, thinking she’d lost him at a simple enough loop around a pile of tires, all up until he pulled her off of her generator with a cackle (“screw you, creep” she said as she slammed her fists into the back of his shoulder - changed her tune real quick after he slid a hook into hers). Nea didn’t hesitate in giving him the runaround, powering a generator in his face and slamming a locker door into him for good measure. Danny knew the girl would throw a palette at him if she had the chance - she was the most fun to play with. But he soon lost her, so soon after catching her, but it was that detective asshole that ruined their fun, as he’d shone a damn flashlight in his eyes while he had Nea on his shoulder, finally, enough for her to wiggle free and run off again. And by the time his vision had cleared, the both of them had gone. Danny growled - as much as he enjoyed fun, it was only when he was winning was it any good.

 It was while he was stalking around the battered old killer shack looking for the bastard that he saw him for the first time. Blonde hair, broad shoulders, and a fancy suit that just screamed rich, with a touch of “please tear me off or splatter me in blood, both sound great”. A man he didn’t recognize, sat on a generator, eyes darting around as he worked the best he could with shaking hands, clearly on edge about being left on his own to work. Whatever annoyance he had in him melted like hot wax, as he approached, slowly, knowing this guy would be a wonderful victim to mess with. The killer’s fingers curled around the edge of the wall as he watched the man, the way he swallowed and sighed, muttering to himself in reassurance in a tongue that sounded familiar to him, too quiet to tell. The generator got louder and louder, its mechanisms and inner parts in tune as the man worked his magic, almost letting himself smile in triumph as he grabbed another wire.

“Hey there, handsome.”

A voice from behind his neck, raspy and deep, caused him to jump, a spark sending the generator into smoke as he turned, face going white as he pushed his back against the wall.

Oh, he was right. He was going to be fun, all right. Danny chuckled. “Oh, sorry. Did I scare you? Tend to do that. It’s in my… nature.”

The man swallowed, glancing around for any kind of help, seeming to find none as his attention turned back to the killed, speaking in a low, rich voice, though it shook from fear. “Don’t you have… things, to be stabbing?”

“Why, is that an invitation?” He laughed again, leaning up against the generator and crossing one leg over the other. “Nah, I’m just kiddin’. Ain’t it enough to get to know the new neighbours? Haven’t seen you around before, pretty boy. They smuggled you in, huh?”

“I… suppose.”

He hummed, tapping the blade of his knife against the metal of his knife, the clanging making the survivor jump. Oh, bless him - well and truly, it was a mistake for him to get caught up here… but a happy mistake, to be sure. “Got a name?”

“Huh?”

“Like I said, I like to know the neighbours, ya know… real close and personal. A preference. Bit of normalcy. Soooo…”

He remained silent. So he was a little bit smarter than what he’d look like, from the way he was shaking in his rich white boots. Impressive.

“Tell you what.” He folded his arms over the top of the generator, looking the man in the face as he rested the side of his head against his forearm. “You’re still a noob, and I can’t be having anything fun with that. I’ll give you, hm… 10 seconds to run and hide, phone a friend, you know… not die, but after that, you’re all mine. Sound good?”

The blonde remained silent, blinking at him in bewilderment. That was as good of an answer as any. 

“Alright. 10-”

“Ah, wait, but what about-”

“-9-”

He didn’t say anything after that, dropping the wires in his hands and taking off into a sprint, stumbling as he stood to his full height - and oh boy, was he a tall guy - and turned a corner of old cars.

Danny chuckled, standing up to rest his ass against the side of the gen, flipping his knife in his hand as he kept counting down. “8… 7… 6-5-4-3-2-1- ok, here we go.”

 Curious as it was, he lost the blonde beauty soon after he let him go, instead finding Meg oddly open about where she was, spriting right into his vision. Not that he was complaining; a game was a game, and if the runner decided that she wanted to play tag, then who was he to turn her down? Especially when she was so easy to catch… though as soon as she was hooked, flashlight clicking and Swedish profanities in his ear was enough to make him chase after Nea rather than go after his original chase once again… they were painting a target on their back, and for what? To save the new guy’s skin? He wasn’t an idiot. Just surprised that some of them had the compassion.

 Well, they managed to get another generator done, but the two girls were dead, and a soon injured Tapp was surely soon to follow them. A means to an end, it seemed, as his knife plunged into the detective’s side and sent him crashing into the dirt with a grunt of pain, rolling over onto his back with one eye open, the other wincing in pain, the shadow of the killer cast over him in the moonlight as he wiped his blade.

“OK, Detective, we’ll make this real nice and simple.” He crouched down next to the survivor, taking note of how the blood pooled around him as he laid on his back, staring up at him. “Tell me where your new friend is hiding, and I’ll let you live.”

Silence.

“C’mon, it’s not that hard of a choice to make. I’ve heard getting sacrificed is long and painful, like your insides are getting ripped at over and over again until, poof, you’re back again, at that cozy little campfire, only a little bit more traumatised to show for it. Now, you want that to happen to only one of you, or both of you, hm?”

Tapp looked away, seeming to ponder the possibility.

“Self-preservation instincts, Detective. I know you have them.” He tapped his knife into the dirt. Humans were fickle beings, easily swayed when their life was on the line.

The detective sighed, chest shaking from the strain. “Fine. I know where he’s hiding. But I can’t… breathe right, with a knife in my chest, so come a little closer.”

Danny blinked, but surely he didn’t have any more tricks up his sleeve, so he did as he was told, for once in his life, letting his mask get inches away. “Yes?”

A moment of silence, before there was a whisper in reply, backed by the assurance of an idiot who knew he was going to die regardless, as he spat blood pooling in his mouth onto the mask of the ghost almost pressed against his own. “Go fuck yourself.”

He was almost stunned at the bravado, leaning away with a chuckle, though he gritted his teeth through it. “Oh, you’re a funny man. Absolutely hilarious, you know that?” But still, that was as good of an affirmation of choice as he was going to get from someone so stubborn, so Danny grabbed him by the front of his vest and hoisted him up onto his shoulder.

 The screaming echoed as the heavens opened up, the Entity surely pleased with her feast for the evening, but he still wasn’t done… oh no, far from it. There was still one more handsome devil to track down. Danny rolled his neck, grinning at the gentle cracks from the strain, strolling more than hunting, at this point, for the well-kept survivor he didn’t know the name of, but was practically dying to know. He almost skipped up the crane, looking out of the window as Rapunzel did out of her tower window, before chuckling to himself and hoisting himself out. Danny tapped his blade against his hand, almost going to begin whistling if not for the angelic cries coming from the hill just close by. A grin overtook him, as he chased the calls of cherubs from the ground below.

 He slammed that hatch shut with a satisfied sigh, throwing his knife between his hands as he looked around and arched his neck for the doors. Normally the whelps would just give up at this point, but the guy was new, and probably didn’t know what was best for him. Still, the doors were easily within view, so if he made it out of this alive… well, he wouldn’t, so no promise needed to be made. The killer chuckled to himself, finally settling on wrapping his fingers around the handle of his blade, curling one by one, slowly and deliberately for no one in particular, before setting off to take part in the real game that had begun.

 He had no idea how he did it. Perhaps Danny had become too complacent in his work. But that handsome devil slipped past him more than once, enough for him to open up a gate and tiptoe his nice ass into certain safety. The survivor stared at him from inside the gate as he walked past in bewilderment, shaking like a dog in the rain that was just waiting to be gutted, battered old medkit in hand. And while he was stunned, the man swallowed, nodded, and left the trial head high, descending back into the fog as it began to consume the old gas station, leaving Danny to stare into darkness, barely blinking.

 Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it?

—

His name was Felix, he’d learned from the pig in the meat plant, having overheard it while she watched him blow the generator out by accident and got cursed out by the familiar bane-of-their-existence Swede. German, from the way he’d spoken to Danny by the generator in their first encounter, high up on the social ladder from the way he dressed (unless he’d gotten all dressed up just to see him? Funny, that would be, but very unlikely), shaken by the fog and with a disposition not unlike a lost dog. 

 And yet, despite his nerves and cluelessness to the fog, he always seemed to escape him. He didn’t know how he did it, but from finding hatch to evading the hooks, Felix somehow managed to keep him on his toes. Trials were somehow more exciting, knowing there was a challenge, and a chance to catch he who refused to be caught. Danny knew he was going to revel in the moment, when it eventually came - there was no way someone could be better than him, when he was so in his element.

So, after not seeing the man for the entire trial while hunting through the streets of Badham, catching him at the gate seemed like a dream come true. And he was none the wiser, as Danny quickly slammed his hand against the wall next to the lever, making him jump and freeze, pulling his hand away, two bright lights reflecting onto his face. “And so we meet again.”

“S-so we do.” He ran a hand through his hair before it found a place at the back of his neck, quietly taking a few steps back.

“Aht, aht. I wouldn’t run. I’ll just find you again anyways.”

He stopped. 

“...You know, I don’t quite know how you do it. It’s like you’re avoiding me on purpose.”

“That is… the point, is it not?”

“Oh, how rude- people come here to see me, surely. I’m a spectacle; call me a master at my craft.”

Felix chuckled - god, he chuckled, though it was riddled with nerves, but it most certainly happened, and sounded great - fiddling with the cufflinks on the sleeves of his suit jacket as his back straightened a little, as if flicking a switch to go from sorry sight to professional businessman. “Well, I… don’t suppose you’d be willing to show me why?”

He blinked. “Are you… flirting with me?”

“Am I?”

Danny wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not, from the way he stood beside the lever at the gate, leaning a shoulder against the brick and folding his arms across his strong, broad chest (the way his shirt was unbuttoned just so was something Danny now noticed, and couldn’t stop noticing, barely tearing his eyes away to meet his gaze again) with an almost expectant look. “You’re... a weird one.”

“I… suppose so. Anyone normal would have ignored you and already run for their lives.”

The killer chuckled. “You’re not… entirely wrong. But I gotta say, I do like that. Among… other things.”

Though his eyes weren’t visible, it was as if the survivor knew exactly where he was looking, coughing and covering his mouth with the side of his fist. How cute was that?

He almost couldn’t contain himself. But he managed, somehow, not sure where this whole thing was going, but more than ready to go along for the ride. “Say… how far are you willing to ask that question, anyway? You really wanna know that bad, huh?”

Felix swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up again, with his piercing blue gaze, lips parting just so into a coy little smile. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Danny had never thought a man of such sophistication was willing to whore himself out for freedom, but sure enough, he himself opened the gate to let the German go, almost sad to see him leave (though it wouldn’t be for long), but very much enjoying the view.

 He paused. He was supposed to catch him and kill him, wasn’t he? Danny frowned, somewhat troubled, but tried to justify it as returning to old habits in Roseville, as he left the gate, and waited for the fog to consume him again, taking a seat just outside the battered old preschool.

—

It was like the attraction of magnets with twice the force as soon as they saw each other, wasting no time as suddenly Felix’s back was slammed into a tree, a loose and cold gloved hand finding its way up his shirt, sending a shiver up his spine for another reason as he felt lips hit his, with a hunger and desperation he was not expecting but certainly didn’t mind reciprocating, as Danny soon found out. And he wasn’t complaining; he was damn good, for a man with the disposition of a 40-year-old virgin, moving his hands to Danny’s wrist and placing his hand on his waist, which again, he did not mind at all, while the other was still halfway up his shirt. Let the man take the lead, at least for now, because it’s the only chance he’ll get to.

 Danny chuckled as a hand moved to grab his ass - quite the eager beaver, wasn’t he? He was practically purring as he pulled away, the survivor trying to follow him before reeling back as he moved to kissing up the side of his neck, listening close to the adorable little whimpers that came out of him as he squirmed in his grip. The killer then went to move his hand out from under Felix’s shirt, finally, casually undoing the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt one by one, taking the time to walk down his chest with his fingers and feel the shaking breaths of anticipation under his fingertips. Oh, the things he wanted to do-

 Distant voices were enough to make the survivor crack open an eye, pausing before he began to push the killer’s head off of his neck.

“Hey, hey,” Danny didn’t appreciate the interruption, moving to look up as Felix looked around, like a startled animal, though he still purred in the crudest fashion. “C’mon, buddy, I was just getting started.”

“Quiet.” His voice was low and commanding, still shaking from adrenaline.

And for whatever reason, Danny complied.

He swallowed, listening to the silence of the wind in the barrens of the fog-covered forest and there was another distant call, which upon hearing he began trying to wiggle out of the killer’s grip. “Off.”

“Why?”

“They’re looking for me-”

“And you don’t wanna be seen with me?” He gave a mock gasp of offence, though the grin that was slowly growing larger still remained on his face.“Oh, honey-”

“That’s exactly it. Move, please.”

That was enough to make Danny chuckle, squeezing his hips that he still held, enough to make him yelp a little. “Still so polite. If you want me to do somethin’, hon, you gotta be a little more, ah... demanding, yeah?”

Felix glared. “Alright. Get off. Now.” His voice had an annoyed growl to it, though his voice still cracked a little out of embarrassment, as he pushed down on Danny’s arms to let himself go.

“There it is.” And so he moved, standing back and sliding his hands into the pockets of his cloak. He watched the architect fiddle with the buttons on his shirt to redo them again, rushing to do so and messing it up a few times, mumbling to himself. “Need help?”

He glared again. 

Danny laughed, observing how he looked like a kicked puppy as he went back to fiddling with his shirt, pulling down his own mask again to hide what little of his face he had revealed. “You know, I think you’d look much better with it off.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, that’s not what you were saying with your eyes earlier-”

“You were a lot more tolerable when you were quiet.”

“‘Cos I never had a chance to speak, what, with you all over my mouth.” He shrugged as he spoke, as if it was a nonchalant fact, only smiling wider when he heard Felix try to stammer out a flustered reply, to no avail, choosing instead to simply huff and finish off the buttons on his shirt.

“Regardless, this affair is over.”

“Wait, hold on.”

“What?”

The killer moved his hands up to Felix’s neck, watching the man flinch and hold a breath with a soft chuckle, gently undoing a few of the top buttons that he’d redone. “You normally wear it like this.”

He gently touched at his collar, looking down at his fingers and then to the mask starring back at him. “And you’ve noticed?”

“Hard not to.” He shrugged, tugging at the shirt collar and going to fix up the waistcoat too before his hands were slapped away, which he held up in defence with a grin behind his mask. “So when are we doing this again, sunshine?”

The survivor moved away before he could’ve boxed in against the tree again, taking a few steps towards the direction of the campfire and the voices, though not too far as to disengage from the conversation, perhaps a little unsure how to. “You speak like this will be a regular affair.”

“Well, we had fun, ja?” 

“...Are you mocking me?”

“Not mocking, just… appreciating the culture.”

Felix started, smoothing down the arms of his suit jacket with a light scoff of disbelief. “Truly, you’re insufferable.”

“Can't say you didn’t enjoy yourself though, huh, mein Schatz?” He leaned his shoulder against the tree now, folding his arms across his chest, earning him a weak-hearted glare.

“Werde gefickt.”

“Gerne.”

Being outplayed in his own game of native tongues, somehow, Felix conceded, looking down at his cufflinks again. “You’re… not entirely wrong, so ...perhaps a name, so I can find you.”

“Oh, so now you want to know me? What happened to a one-time affair, sugar?” 

“When you’re so easy to please, I would be an idiot not to take advantage.”

Danny laughed, shrugging with no retort (though he was uncertain if hitting this pretty boy like a fish was just as good as getting in his pants… that much was yet to be determined). He soon trailed off, swallowing to himself, a lie escaping him as effortlessly as it had always done. “Jed Olsen.”

“Mr. Olsen…” Felix pondered for a moment. “...Ja, OK.”

—

So they’d been fooling around, yeah. Danny had always said he was willing to try it, should an idiot be brave enough, and if it was someone that wasn’t either Ace or David - he was a man with some standards, even with the blood on his hands - but never had he thought about it getting this far.

 The sun never rose or set, but people slept and woke as time passed, regardless of the light outside, and that was no exception here. If anything, it was the cold chill of Ormond that awoke him from sleep, though he’d grown complacent in it, realising the teens that called this shithole a home would probably evict him if he so much as dared to complain. Danny still grumbled, attempting to pull the scraps of the blanket over himself, but finding it unable to move. Turning over, he now heard the sound of gentle snoring, the body, next to him sometimes shuffling, but remained mostly motionless, aside from the movements of breathing from his chest. His latest fling, almost his newest obsession… god, he still looked perfect, even now, golden locks of hair falling out of form, the lighting of the shitty little cabin not enough to hide that perfect jawline tickled with stubble in all the right places, red marks down his neck and back from an encounter that had lead them right here, in the bed he was practically renting in the corner of the resort.

 They’d gotten a little adventurous, hadn't they? Banter in the trials was one thing, borderline voyeurism in the entity’s forest was another, but here? Letting himself be taken back to the realms to stay, where killers were not technically bound by rules of obedience, with Danny of all killers, a man who loved to bend the rules? Felix Richter was a smart man, that much he knew, but by god was he stupid. Maybe he thought there was a good man still in there, in the Ghostface. Well, that was his mistake; it was almost cute for him to still hold out hope though, regardless of how much disappointment was awaiting him down the road. Danny gently ran fingertips along the sleeping man’s arm, feeling the soft skin underneath his touch, smiling despite himself, only pausing at the gentle stirring he caused, practically freezing with his hand in the air as the architect moved, and slowly opened his eyes, sleepily smiling.

“Good morning.”

“...Hi,” he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting his hand fall into the space between them. “Hardly mornin’, but sure.”

“Close enough.”

“Sure.”

There was a soft, amused hum from the other man, adjusting his position a little to better face him, hair falling out of place just so, like some disheveled Ken doll. “I would ask if you slept well, but-”

“Oh, very well, thanks to you. Really outdid yourself this time; I gotta say, that was almost the most fun I’ve had since I got here… or maybe even before-”

A light shove to his chest made him stop and laugh a little, feeling the slight coldness of metal from a family ring against one pec, and almost wanting the light touch of his hand to remain there, before it hit the mattress with a thump, dangerously close to Danny’s. “You’re a funny one, Mr. Olsen.”

He sat up, resting an elbow on the stained old pillow and holding his cheek with the corresponding hand, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you liked me better when I was quieter?”

Felix stared at him with those perfect eyes of his, and he laughed - like audible silk it was, smooth and defined, with a sleepy smile and everything - adjusting himself with a hand under his pillow. “Sometimes. Sometimes I like to hear you.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ve been told it’s my best quality.”

“Hmm. Is it how you make jokes to deflect, or how you talk out of your ass?”

“...Well, hey now, Princess, ouch-”

As he tried to defend himself, the survivor smirked, somehow braver here than anywhere else (and it wasn’t his persona), quipping back to match him, and as he was talking, Danny paused, watching the way his eyes diverted and how his mouth moved, how he talked with his body and the way he smiled and waiting for a small hum in response, and how Danny liked the way his name sounded coming from his mouth, even if it wasn’t entirely the true one. Almost made him wonder what the real thing would sound like… no, that was too much, right? Couldn’t get attached. He wasn’t attached, was he?

 Couldn’t hurt to wait a little more to think on that, before escorting this pretty little thing back to the campfire.

—

So he was thinking about Felix a lot more than was normal for an obsession of his. What started off as a vengeful curiosity had morphed into something else, something so ugly yet so beautiful, foreign to Danny in recent years, or perhaps his entire life. Was this how high school girls felt, chasing after the jocks for a chance to get them off, and maybe start a high school whirlwind romance? Well, he certainly wasn’t a prepubescent cheerleader, but the survivor that had caught his attention seemed just like the squeaky clean Prince Charming that girls drooled over.

 And he couldn’t have that. Not at all.

 The fog cleared out of his vision slowly, and he opened his eyes, almost rolling them as the field of corn came into view. Coldwind - the rotten fields, it looked like, from the wide expanse of produce hiding his vision. Despite the cards not being in his favour, a game could still be played here, if he played his hand, carefully. And he was planning to. He’d let himself get distracted. But not again.

 Getting back into the routine of the hunt was like sliding into a comfortable sweater, blood shedding with no tear from him. Laurie was always a thrilling chase, her determination being almost cute. Quentin was similar, though the boy with insomnia had a lot less appeal than the virgin final girl, to be sure. David, of course, was David - loud, frustrating to deal with, and incredibly annoying. And… Felix. He knew how he felt about Felix already.

 As well as he tried to play it, this time, the game was not in his favour, and quite quickly generators across the field were powered, with only a few hooks under his belt. Getting to a gate, it was already beginning to open, three of them already filing into the funnel of the exit. But Felix, he was lagging behind, and without thinking, Danny took a swipe...

 ...No one escaped death. Not even the man he may have fallen for.

 As he wiped the blood from his blade with a gloved hand closed around it, he watched the architect grasp at his side and stumble, leaning a shoulder up against a wooden wall for support.

“Go.” He called to the woman in the blue shirt, standing at the gate.

“Felix, we can’t-”

“I said go, Laurie!”

She gritted her teeth and went to ignore him, running back into the cornfield, but a grip and pull on her arm from David stopped her, as much as she tried to fight against it. Quentin was the last to leave, watching the two of them for a moment before he swallowed, and chased after them, a medkit in hand.

 “Alone time, eh? Hon, we’re on a time limit here-”

“Just get it done.”

Danny tried to laugh. But it didn’t… feel right, somehow, even if it was the same as it always had been. As Felix leaned against a wall to support himself and slid down, knees buckling underneath him, he crouched down to meet him. “I dunno… no fun when they don’t squirm, you know?”

“...Jed-”

“Danny.”

He paused. “What?”

“It’s Danny Johnson. My name, I mean. I lied, when we first met. ...Surprise!” Knife still gripped, he tried to do a small jazz hands movement, though it seemed a fall flat. Only hurt more with what came next.

“...I figured as much.”

“Oh yeah? And why’d you set yourself up for failure like that, sunshine?”

“Because… I don’t know. I thought you were like me.”

The killer deflated a little, tilting his head to one side.

“I… maybe, I thought you were playing something up. I always felt… something else, there. Maybe something even you didn’t know about. Under all that ego, Mr Ol- ...Mr. Johnson, there was a man who cared, once.”

He tapped the blade of his knife against the floor. “...Maybe. I dunno.”

“Do you think he’s still in there?”

Danny didn’t reply right away, dragging his blade through the dirt by his feet absentmindedly. He didn’t entirely know, at this point. Normally this would have been the end of their little game - it was over, he had caught him and won - but something was stopping him. The ground shook, reminding him of that first moment where this fascination had started to plague him. “...You’ve done something to me, Felix.”

He hummed, trying to shift where he sat, holding his side where the blood had stained his very nice suit. “Have I?”

“Must have done. Because this isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

“That’s the reality of most things, I’m afraid.”

“I hate it.”

The survivor almost laughed, though it was pained and strained, clearly struggling… but was the sliver of it that made it, that small smile on his stupid, perfect face - that was enough, it seemed, to make Danny smile too.

He pulled up his mask entirely, tugging down his hood and fixing his hair with a quick ruffle, feeling the cloth tendrils on his sleeves whip behind him from the movement. The killer took a second to stare at Felix in front of him, before he moved his hand up to his face, watching him flinch. “Hey- relax, baby, I’m not gonna hurt you yet.”

“Yet.”

Danny hummed, cupping his face and wiping away the blood starting to dribble out of his mouth with a finger. “There. You’re a messy little boy, aint’cha?”

A cough, more blood involuntarily spilling out from his mouth now, this time splashing onto his shirt and the front of Danny’s suit. “My apologies. I’ll make sure to bleed less next time you stab me.”

“‘Ppreciate it, babes.”

Though he thought the man would shove him away, he instead seemed to lean into the touch, moving a hand to hold onto Danny’s wrist. “You still smell like cheap cologne.”

“It’s the only thing they sent me here with. ‘Sides, your scent goes away after a while.”

“Gross.”

“The one and only.”

And despite his small smile, of both annoyance and amusement, the third overwhelming emotion behind his eyes was that of sadness. The ground shook around them, but they didn’t seem to care, not until Danny moved his hand away and stood to his feet again, grabbing his knife from the floor and wiping the dirt off of the blade on his thigh.

 “Is this it, then?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“...It was fun.”

“Oh yes, it was.” He looked down at his knife, pressing the tip of the blade against his finger and twisting it, the moonlight and bleeding of the ground catching the light of the metal. “...For what it’s worth? You were close.”

“Close to what?”

“Makin’ me a person. Ya know, not a prick, like… an actual loser, with empathy. Almost had me for a sec, hot stuff.”

“Is that why you’re stopping this? Are you scared?”

Danny swallowed down a reply. He took a moment to look down at Felix, who’s eyes had followed him the entire time, making a small ‘call me’ sign with his free hand and forcing a smirk. “If you ever decide you wanna make a mistake again, you’ll know where to find me.”

“...Goodbye, Danny.”

He walked off into the corn, not wanting to see the way those blue eyes stared at him anymore, only stopping at the pained screaming that followed. The shaking of the ground had stopped now. She had come to feast.

 As he stood in the middle of cornfield, he looked up at the sky of the farm, overcast and grey, tendrils of the Entity reaching down to claim her prize, and fog swirling around him to take him back, to lay in wait, until the next time.

 He was right. His name did sound nice coming out of Felix’s mouth. 

[outer-bnks]

Two Burning Hearts Are Dared To Break (JJ x OC) Ch. 5

Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

In which Elle finds a drunk Rafe on the beach after her fight with JJ and turns to him for comfort.

Warning: mild swearing, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of being drunk/intoxicated

A/N: this gif is something else!!! Drew Starkey deserves more scenes in s2, just saying!! Was really fun to write Rafe as a big softie and explore their history together. Elle doesn’t know that Rafe killed the Sheriff. This chapter gives a little bit more info on Elle’s background and her relationships with the other characters. Also this chapter kind of made me wonder whether Rafe would be a good match for Elle. 

Who should she end up with, JJ, Rafe or Topper? Let me know.

Word count: 2k

She had ended up at the beach at the bottom of her house. It wasn’t a surprise that this is where she’d end up, the water glowing in the moonlight, the waves calmly washing onto the shore. It had been a few hours since she had left JJ’s house, her mind still reeling over what had happened between them. The tears had long gone, but the churning in her stomach felt like it wasn’t ever going to end. Watching her feet as she walked along the water's edge, she heard quiet muttering coming from the beneath the tree line. 

Walking towards the sound cautiously, she caught sight of a figure moving up into a sitting position, “Hello?”, the mystery person sounded. She recognised that voice, sighing at the realisation. 

“Rafe? What’re you doing here?” Elle questioned as she moved to inspect the situation more, his face coming into focus.

“What does it look like?” he responded, arms out wide. Elle remained silent, taking note of his tear-stained face and the slight vulnerability that came through in his voice.

“Want some?” he offered, outstretching his hand holding up an almost empty bottle of whiskey. She shook her head, taking a seat next to him, holding her bent legs close to her chest. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“What’s up with you?” he asked confusedly.

Keeping her eyes on the water so as to not give her emotions away, she asked “What do you mean?”

“Well aren’t you supposed to be with your Pogue friends in The Cut, instead of sitting here with a kook, drinking Whiskey on Wednesday night?”. He was right. She should be with her friends right now, grieving, sharing memories, eating, Elle would’ve been happy doing anything with them right now. 

She remained quiet, moving her gaze away from the water to her feet in the sand, not able to find the courage to open up to Rafe of all people yet.

“Did something happen?” he asked softly, wary of pressing too hard, after picking up on her defeated body language.

She scoffed, “You could say that”.

He studied her side profile for a minute, “Do you wanna talk about it?”.

Elle let out a short chuckle. Never would she have imagined that she would be sitting next to a drunk Rafe considering telling him about her feelings.

So instead of doing just that, she put her defences up, sarcasm seeping into her tone “As if you care Rafe”.

He sighed, “I know I’ve been a dick-”

“You could say that again”           

“but… things are different now”

“So what, I’m just supposed to forgive and forget all the times you’ve come after us? You, Kelce and Topper have nearly killed us, on more than one occasion”, she snapped, her eyes narrowing to finally look at him.

Rafe swallowed, his throat working at the seriousness in Elle’s tone. And although he was drunk and couldn’t form coherent thoughts, he felt himself sobering up at her words.

“No. You’re not. You shouldn’t forgive me at all. But you’re one of the only people who would actually understand how I feel right now, and it seems to me that you need someone just as much as I do”, his voice quieting at the last part of his sentence.

Elle searched his eyes, for the smallest glimmer of insincerity, silence falling upon them once again.

“It’s just that. Usually when I need someone to talk to, I go to John B. And now that he’s, um, gone, I don’t know who to turn to” she blurted out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Rafe masked his surprise at her outburst with sympathy, “Can you not talk to the others?”

“Hard to talk to them about the issue when they’re apart of it”, she sighed, twirling with the rings on her right hand. It was one of her nervous habits that she did without realising, along with playing with her earrings. 

His eyebrows raised, finally understanding what she was upset about, “Oh”.

He paused for a minute, trying to gather his sober words amongst his drunk thoughts, “Maybe just give it some time? From what I’ve seen, you guys are like...real friends. That doesn’t just disappear after one fight”.

Elle nodded, his words somewhat comforting her.

They both looked back out to the water, a calmness washing over the both of them.

“Do you ever think that they might still be alive?”, he mumbled, taking another swig from the whiskey bottle.

She sucked in a breath, surprised at his question. Everyone was still too sensitive to talk about John B and Sarah, which made it hard for Elle to process her thoughts and emotions about the whole situation.

It was her turn to study his side profile, watching for any emotions to arise, “Yeah, sometimes. But holding on to that slim possibility, I don’t think it will do us too much good”, she confessed.

He nodded, looking at her quickly before turning back to the water, not wanting to see her reaction when he admitted this. “It was my fault”.

“What?” Elle questioned, her eyebrows furrowing.

“She’s my little sister. I was supposed to protect her. I’m supposed to protect my family”, his tone was rising, his frustration shining through.

She held a calm and steady voice, “Rafe, it’s not your fault.” 

“Yes it is Elle! I’m the reason they got on that damn boat and drove into the storm.”

“Rafe you can’t think like that. You’ll tear yourself apart!”

“A little too late for that”, he scoffed. He ran both hands through his hair before resting his arms back onto the top of his bent knees.

Elle felt an urge to open up to him. To tell him about everything that she was feeling, about her grief and her anger and her loneliness.

She shifted in her position, moving into a crossed legged position. “JJ and I had a fight”.

Rafe waited for her to continue.

“He does this thing, when things become too much for him, he pulls away and tries to shut himself off. Usually you just need to give him time to cool off and he comes back to you. But I don’t know-” Elle shook her head “this time felt different.”

The words that came next didn’t need much preparation, “Well these circumstances are different Elle, he probably just doesn’t know how to cope. I’m sure he’ll come back to you. I doubt he’d ever give you up by choice, that kid’s like in love with you”, he finished, laughing lightly.

Elle laughed, stunned by his response, “What? No he’s not!”.

He shook his head, knowing she’d deny it. “Come on Elle, you’d have to blind- or just stupid, to not be able to see that he is head over heels for you”, he turned, watching as a glimmer of hope flickered in her eyes.

“Nah Rafe, you’re being dramatic”.

“Whatever you wanna believe Elle, but trust me on this,” he paused, maintaining eye contact with for, “if I had someone who cared about me the way that you care about him, I’d never let that go”.

Elle felt her heart swell slightly. Rafe hadn’t been this kind or honest to her, in a long time. She gave him a close-lipped smile, grateful for his words.

Elle watched as the wheels in his head turned, waiting for what question was coming next. Her and Rafe used to be good at this, at sitting and talking and asking each other questions about their lives. 

When Rafe landed on the one he wanted to ask, he turned to her again, his eyes glazed over from his intoxicated state. “Is it fun being a Pogue?”

She took a minute to think about his question,“When you’re a Kook who doesn’t have to worry about money it’s fun. Why do you ask?”

He broke his gaze from her, looking down to the sand, drawing shapes into it with his index finger, “You guys just seem so… carefree?”. His statement came out more like a question.

“I guess. It’s easy for me to be carefree because I come from a privileged background, but uh, for the boys, there’s definitely a lot more to it. Can’t be all that carefree when you have to work 24/7 just to feed yourself and keep a roof over your head”. Her mind flashed back to JJ, the way it always seems to.

He brushed the sand off from his hand, “You know, if I was sober I definitely wouldn’t be saying this but” Elle’s heart quickened for a moment, worried about where this confession was going- “I have a lot of respect for you.”

She couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Respect? Ever since I left the Kook Academy you’ve bullied the shit out of me”. Although what she had said was of a usually serious topic, Elle kept the smile on her face, amused by this conversation.

Rafe nodded, “I know I know. But leaving this lifestyle to be with people who you actually love, that makes you a far better person than I’ll ever be.” He hoped she wouldn’t question him further, he wasn’t ready to hurt her more than she already seemed to be.

Thankfully, she didn’t, “Never too late to be a good person Rafe”

Moments of silence passed before Rafe sighed addressing the elephant in the room, “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too,” she responded, sincerity in her tone.

Rafe’s face contorted out of confusion, “What are you sorry for?”

“Well, after everything that happened with Archer, I kind of just... got up and left you guys” she said, bowing her head to look down at the sand.

He understood what she meant. Her departure from their friendship group had been abrupt, but for a good reason. He let out a soft laugh,“I don’t blame you, he was a piece of shit”.

“Yeah he was, but we were friends.” 

“How do you trust people again after what happened with him?’’ he questioned quietly, afraid to open old wounds.

“Rafe we had a shitty relationship, it’s not like he ruined my life entirely” she laughed.

“It was more than a shitty relationship Elle. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that. And I should’ve told you about her as soon as I found out about it all”. Elle detected regret in his words, but the usual anger that she felt when thinking about Archer and her was absent. Even though it was an emotionally draining time for Elle, life seemed so much lighter back then compared to now.

“Can’t argue with that one.” she shot back, adding in a laugh to let him know that she wasn’t angry.

“Rafe-” she paused, unsure if she wanted to know the answer, “how long did you know about them before I found out?”.

“Uhm,” he hesitated, “maybe like 5 months?” he confessed regrettably.

Elle nodded her head slowly, processing his answer.

“If it’s any consolation, I beat the shit out of him for you”

Elle broke out into laughter. “Yeah I don’t doubt that, but thanks, I guess?”

His face broke out into a full smile, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him smile like that, let alone be the reason for it. 

“You’re welcome.”

A cool breeze washed over Elle making her shiver, deciding that now was probably a good time to get drunk Rafe home. “Hey, we should probably get out of here”.

“Yeah you’re right, I can feel my hangover coming already”.

Elle got out her phone, unlocking it and searching for one of the numbers she never thought she’d have to call again after leaving the Academy- Topper Thornton. 

-----

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[mikauzoran]

Platonic Adrino/DJ Wifi: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Eight

Read it on AO3: Drunk Ladybug on My Balcony? Yeah. This is Fine.: Chapter Eight: Bros First

Alya and Nino were curled up on her bed watching Lupin on her laptop when a slightly impatient knock came at the sliding glass door out to her balcony.

Nino frowned in utter bafflement. “What the hell? How is there someone knocking on your fourth story balcony door?”

Alya stiffened as a wave of dread rolled over her. She glanced at her phone to find she had zero unread texts from Marinette announcing a visit.

That didn’t necessarily mean it wasn’t Ladybug out on her balcony, but Alya took that as a good sign because it would certainly be a lot less awkward and suspicious if it were her boyfriend’s superhero crush out there instead of her own.

“Al?” Nino prompted questioningly.

Alya mentally crossed her fingers as she sat up and set the laptop aside, going over to pull back the curtain, hoping against all hope that it was their resident cat-boy and that Nino would be so distracted that he wouldn’t ask difficult questions.

Chat Noir had his hand raised, just about to knock again, when Alya opened the curtain and unlocked the door.

Instant relief washed across his face. “Oh my gosh, Alya! You will never believe what just happened to me! I have to talk to you.”

And then Nino came up behind Alya and gaped at the hero, making Chat Noir freeze.

“Is Chat Noir on your balcony, or am I hallucinating?” Nino wondered in a state of borderline shock.

“I am so sorry,” Chat spit out, heat rising on his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I…I can explain!”

Nino turned to Alya. “He visits you too?”

Now it was Alya’s turn for confusion. “Wait. He visits you?” she returned incredulously as she looked back and forth between her boyfriend and the superhero.

Nino shrugged. “Yeah. He started coming over, like…when we were fourteen, fifteen. We play video games and watch movies and stuff. Sometimes I run my mixes by him and get his opinion. How long has he been visiting you?”

Alya pursed her lips, turning to frown reproachfully at Chat Noir. “You’ve been visiting him for years?”

“I can explain?” Chat didn’t sound so sure as his shoulders rose up to meet his ears. “Or maybe I should come back some other time. I’m clearly crashing your date.”

Alya rolled her eyes and grabbed Chat Noir by the arm, hauling him into the room. “Get in here.”

She quickly relocked the door behind him and drew the curtain before turning back to Nino and pointing accusatorially at Chat Noir. “Do you know who he is?”

Nino’s brow gradually furrowed as he felt even more lost. “Um…yeah. He’s Chat Noir. You run a blog about him?”

Alya groaned, dropping her head as she shook it. “No. No. Like, do you know his secret identity?”

“No,” Nino snorted as if she’d made some ludicrous suggestion. But then he paused, and the amusement left him. “Holy crap. Wait. Do you?”

Alya turned her mystified expression on Chat Noir. “How does he not know who you are if you two have been hanging out for years? Is my boyfriend dumb?”

“Hey,” Nino whined.

Chat put his hands up in surrender. “No. He just never asked, and I didn’t tell him.” He looked back to Nino. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t tell Alya either. I’ve never told anyone. She just figured me out.”

“Okay?” Nino replied, feeling like he should say something but not really sure why he should care. “I mean…that’s fine, Mec. I get the secret identities thing. You’re not supposed to tell me, so it’s not really a bad thing that I don’t know. I don’t have to know what name appears on your birth certificate to be your friend, so…it doesn’t really matter.”

Chat Noir winced, and his expression turned guilty as he looked at Nino with eyes pleading for forgiveness. “It kind of does matter, and I’m sorry I never said anything…. Detransformation.”

Nino’s eyes widened as the suit faded in a burst of neon green light, leaving Adrien Agreste standing before him in the Ladybug pyjamas Marinette had made him for his birthday two years prior.

“I am so sorry,” Adrien whimpered, bracing for the fallout.

Nino let out a guttural curse and then repeated it three times in quick succession.

Adrien winced, repeating, “I’m sorry. If I could have told you I would have, but Ladybug is super strict about the secret identities rule.”

“No, it’s cool,” Nino assured lightheadedly, still staring at Adrien like he had just revealed that he had been leading a double life for more than half a decade now. “Seriously. I totally get it. I’m just… Holy crap, you’re Chat Noir,” Nino began to snicker maniacally, sounding like he was hyperventilating.

“Yeah,” Adrien replied lamely, grimacing. “I’m Chat Noir…. Are you okay?”

“I need to sit down,” Nino announced, promptly sinking to the floor and flopping over onto his back.

“Babe, are you okay?” Alya spoke up tentatively, starting to get concerned in earnest.

“Yep,” he continued to laugh. “All good. My best bro is just a superhero. That’s all. Normal day.”

“I am so sorry,” Adrien reiterated, not sure what else to say or do.

Alya’s reaction had seemed so blasé. He hadn’t been prepared for Nino to freak.

“No.” Nino held up a hand to stop him. “Seriously. It’s good. You’re good. I’m just…processing. Poorly. I mean… I’m sorry, Mate. I feel like I should have known or something.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t,” Alya hummed. “He told you about his mystery girl crush, didn’t he? How did you think he knew her?”

Nino threw up his hands in exasperation without moving up off the floor. “I don’t know! I thought she dropped by his house or something! I’ve had a standing friend date night with Chat Noir the past five years! It wasn’t too farfetched to think she visited Adrien like that too. I mean, I would totally sneak in to see him and break him out to go have some fun if I had a Miraculous permanently. That would be my number one abuse of power.”

“That’s really sweet,” Adrien cooed, touched that the thought had even crossed Nino’s mind.

“Romantic rooftop escapades with your girlfriend wouldn’t be top on your list?” Alya snickered, amused.

“Bros before you-know-whats,” Nino announced vehemently, causing Alya to laugh harder.

She turned to smirk at Adrien, elbowing his arm. “Well, good to know where his priorities stand. I always suspected he loved you more.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, returning the playful nudge. “He loves us the same but differently.”

Nino groaned, hissing a sibilant curse as a realization struck him.

“What?” Alya inquired, arching an eyebrow as her boyfriend covered his face with his hands and rolled around on the floor in mortification.

“You okay, Mec?” Adrien inquired hesitantly, leaning in a bit to peer down at his best friend curiously.

“No!” Nino whined, propping himself up on his elbows. “You let me make a total fool of myself!”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. He debated making a remark to the effect of Nino making a fool of himself with or without Adrien’s help but ultimately decided against it, instead going with, “When?”

Nino pointed accusingly. “You let me go on and on about my embarrassing crush on Chat Noir!”

Alya clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. To be fair, she’d felt a little dumb when she’d discovered that she’d been raving to Marinette about her superhero alter ego all these years, but Nino seemed more embarrassed whereas Alya had been able to easily laugh at herself in retrospect.

“I was flattered,” Adrien insisted, crouching down so that he was on Nino’s level. “Seriously. It’s not a big deal. I’m used to people fawning over Adrien’s stupid model face all the time, and Chat Noir’s fans can be a little…um…weird…most of the time, so it was really refreshing that someone thought he was attractive as a person,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Nino sat up, frowning at Adrien, clearly not impressed. “Dude, I went on, like, rants about your ass.”

Adrien shrugged. “I have a very nice asset, and it looks objectively better in magical leather. You have good taste in men.”

Nino’s frown morphed into a miffed stare of disapproval. “This isn’t weird for you at all, is it?”

Adrien flashed another sheepish grin as he shook his head. “Afraid not. Besides, even if it was, I’m sure you’re completely cured of your temporary insanity now that you know just who it is under the mask.”

Nino let out a bark of laughter, roughly tussling Adrien’s hair. “Fat chance, Mec! Nah, now that I know, I’m even more in love with you.” He turned to Alya to mutter a quick, “Sorry, Al,” before returning his attention to his best friend. “Adrien Agreste, will you marry me?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Adrien cackled, nearly knocking Nino over backwards as he launched himself at his friend, wrapping Nino in a tight hug. “Can we have an April wedding? I’m a spring, so I look best in bright, light, warm colours. I think you’re probably an autumn, so deep, warm colours would suit you best. We might need to hire a consultant.”

“Whatever you say, My Love,” Nino tittered, his sides beginning to hurt from laughter.

Alya gave a snort as she put her hands on her hips. “Hey! What am I? Yesterday’s garbage? I thought we were getting married!”

“You don’t even believe in marriage,” Nino continued to laugh.

Alya crossed her arms and gave her head a little toss. “True, but your pestering was starting to make me come around to the idea.”

“Well, how about Adrien can be my sexy househusband, and you can be my wild, adventurous lover?” he suggested.

Adrien shrugged, pulling back out of the hug. “I’m down with that.”

Alya considered for a moment and then shrugged as well. “Yeah, okay. That works for me. I don’t actually believe in marriage anyway.”

Nino gave his eyes a fond roll, turning to Adrien. “I’ll wear her down one of these days.”

“Definitely,” Adrien agreed and then paused, suddenly looking uncertain. “…Are we okay?”

Nino pushed all joking aside and really looked at his friend. “Yeah. I’m not mad or whatever you were worried about. I get that you couldn’t tell me, even though you wanted to. When I first became Carapace, I wanted to tell you too, but Ladybug was pretty clear about the rules, so…”

He inhaled slowly, taking Adrien in. “But, man… Holy crap…. You’re Chat Noir.”

Adrien nodded timidly. “Yeah.”

Abruptly, tears sprang forth from the corners of Nino’s eyes and began spilling down his cheeks. “You get beaten up a lot.”

Adrien winced, replying softly, “Yeah.”

“That’s…” Nino swallowed and tried again. “That was hard enough to watch when you were just Chat Noir…. I don’t think I can do this, knowing it’s you getting thrown around like a rag doll.”

“Sorry,” Adrien whispered, wishing there was some way to make it easier. “I really am sorry, but it’s my job.”

Nino’s eyes widened in fear, and he cursed once more, breathlessly.

Adrien cocked his head to the side in question.

Nino shook his head, his bottom lip beginning to tremble as the tears came harder and faster. He took Adrien’s face in his hands, and his voice cracked as he whimpered, “You d-die…sometimes.”

Adrien held Nino’s gaze, mountains of apologies filling his eyes as he nodded sadly in confirmation.

It was then that Alya beckoned to Plagg who had curled up on top of one of the speakers on her desk. “Cheese,” she mouthed, motioning for him to follow her out into the kitchen to give the guys some privacy.

Plagg willingly complied, floating over to hide in the hood of her hoodie as she slipped soundlessly out of the room.

Meanwhile, Nino, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to hold in the whirling spiral of emotions he was feeling.

Adrien scooted closer, leaning in to rest his forehead against Nino’s. “Shhh,” he coaxed, wrapping his arms around his friend. “It’s okay. I’m okay, Nino.”

“Sometimes you’re not, though,” Nino hiccupped bitterly.

“Only for a little while,” Adrien added, trying to appease. “I try to be careful. I really did hear you when you chewed Chat Noir out for being reckless. I was listening, and I’ve tried not to jump into danger unnecessarily…. It’s just…sometimes it is necessary.”

Nino pulled back to look Adrien in the face, his eyes filled with fierce determination. “I need you to do something for me, promise me something.”

Adrien readily nodded. “Of course.”

“Talk to Ladybug for me,” Nino instructed. “Convince her to give me the Turtle Miraculous full-time.”

Adrien’s eyes widened in surprise. “But—”

“—No,” Nino cut him off. “Convince her. Don’t take no for an answer. Don’t tell me it’s dangerous or some crap like that. Bros don’t let bros stay sidelined. I can protect you. I can keep you safe. Let me help, Adrien. Let me be your shield. That’s what my job is supposed to be.”

Slowly, Adrien began to nod. As much as he wanted his best friend as far away from danger as possible, he completely understood how Nino felt. If their situations were reversed, Adrien would do anything he could to make Nino safer.

“Okay. I’ll talk to her,” Adrien promised, “and I will bug the hell out of her until she gives in.”

Nino let out a long sigh of relief as he nodded. “Okay. All right. Good enough for now…. Thanks, Mec.”

“Thank you,” Adrien stressed, leaning in to press a butterfly’s wing beat of a kiss to Nino’s cheek.

Nino laughed, pulling Adrien into a crushing hug. He gave Adrien’s cheek a sloppy smooch, declaring, “Love you, Man.”

Adrien returned the laughter with interest, settling into Nino’s embrace, finding comfort there. “Love you too.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #400

“it’s an age-old story: the first will be last, and the last will be kings  /  the small will be great, and the great will be weak”

Who was the last person you sincerely thanked? My mom; I thank her every time she cooks for me/us, and I really do mean it. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? Somewhere around a month. What was the last thing to really surprise you? My brother has a fiancee and is having another son! :') Have you ever found out that you have been sleep walking? No. Have you ever tried making something from one of those short cooking videos? How did it turn out? No. Have you ever written a review for a product you bought online? No. What was the last thing you had the urge to do? Idk about anything notable. Is there anyone you feel that takes you for granted? No. What is the last thing you had a craving for? A donut. Do you ever read the comments on social media posts? Sometimes. What was the last thing you felt like you wasted money on? It's so rare that I buy things with my own cash that I really don't know. What was the last thing you wanted to buy, but couldn’t afford? Venus' terrarium on my own. Mom has to help me with buying it. What is a recipe you’d like to try to make for yourself? I don’t cook, so. What goes through your mind when you look back at old photographs of yourself? More than anything, I get sad over how much weight I've gained. I was so healthy once upon a time. It also just makes me miss my childhood. What was the subject matter of the last email you sent? I believe it was about setting up an appointment with my therapist. How do you get your news? Facebook articles, really. What do you think about lizards? I love them! I was that kid that always tried to catch them when I saw 'em. Now I just observe because I don't want to terrify them by trying to pick them up. Have you ever done consumer testing (testing products before they come out on the market)? If not, would you ever want to? No, but sure, I'd do it. Have you ever received anesthesia or morphine? Both. The time I received morphine, it did jack-all for me. If you had to choose which video game to be in, which would it be? Hmmm... I would say Azeroth from World of Warcraft, but too much shit goes down, ha ha. Perhaps the top of the temple in Shadow of the Colossus? So long as I could have someone I love with me, I'd be in Heaven. Although... I doubt there's WiFi there, so I might drop that answer, lmfao. I really don't know. Between the two, would you rather live in a place where it’s only night or where it’s only day? Day. I need the natural light of day sometimes, and if I wanted to sleep, I could just find shade. If you had to be an actor/actress in a movie, what genre of the movie would you be best at? Fantasy. Out of fire, earth, water, wind, light, and dark, which element appeals the most to you? Dark. What’s one thing that you wish was real? Friendly dragons, haha. Is there anything (show, comedian, etc.) that you constantly quote or make references to? No. What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? I have absolutely no idea. I don't even remember almost any of them. What’s your favorite holiday? Christmas. Do you ever have to do yard work? No. Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? Yes. Did/do you listen to Britney Spears songs? Yeah, sometimes. I genuinely don't mind her. Do you still make Christmas lists? Yeah, because I'm asked to. Do you watch the show Dexter? Never seen it. Which musical instrument do you think sounds the prettiest? I'm torn between the violin, harp, and piano. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom, by a year. Do you and your parents like any of the same bands/singers? A lot, actually. Is there any food in your bedroom? What? I have these tictacs I keep in my purse in case of a dry mouth. Medication makes me have that severely, and my psychiatrist recommended me to always have a hard candy available to suck on since it forces salivation. Do you know anyone who has road rage? Who? My younger sister, badly. How far away do your grandparents live from you? They're all dead, but they lived in far away states. Do you know anyone who wants to be the president one day? No. What kinds of chips are in the cupboards? None. It's a bad idea to keep chips in this house, haha. Do you have your mom's or dad's hair? Well, I was born with dirty blonde hair like my dad, but my hair is thick and more similar in color now to my mom's before the cancer completely drained the color. If you were going out with your celebrity crush, what would you wear? OH MY GOD LA;KSDJFAKLWJE I DON'T KNOW I LOOK AWFUL IN EVERYTHING. Have you ever cried when a teacher retired? Teared up, yes, multiple times. Do you swear and yell while playing video games? I might swear under my breath, but that's the extent of it. If you were adopted, would you want to know? At this point in my life, I don't really know. I kinda find myself leaning towards no. Has a best friend ever ditched you for a girlfriend/boyfriend? Pretty much. Do your pets chase after bugs? Roman sure does. When’s the last time you were so excited you couldn’t sleep? Why? I want to say that was the night before I was getting my tattoo redone. Do you own any flip-flops? Yeah, considering they're like... all I wear, ever. Did you ever really believe that the stork brought babies? I don't believe so, no. Have you ever had a dream about sleeping with a celebrity? (You don’t have to give details.) It was the only lucid dream I've ever had and I'm not complaining about it lmao. Have you ever had a dream that upset you or made you cry? Oh I'm sure. Has anyone ever told you that they needed you? Do you think they meant it? Not to my recollection, no, and I don't believe you should ever adopt that mentality and say that to someone. Do you own a laser? No. Is there anything you like to put on a sandwich, that some might find odd? Nah. I do enjoy a layer of potato chips on some sandwiches, like ham and cheese, but I know that's like an actual thing some people just like. What colour are the shoes you wear most often? They're black flip-flops. When was the last time you were required to put on a mask? In the morning when I go to the TMS office. And what colour was the last mask you wore? It's one of those normal blue and white medical ones. The last time you were in a queue, what were you waiting for? To see the woman who would give me my APAP mask. Have you had your Covid vaccine yet? Which one, if you have? Yes, Moderna. If you've had your vaccine, did you experience any side effects? None for the first shot, but my second shot bruised badly and I felt seriously shitty the following day. I was perfectly fine afterwards, though. Can any of your friends sing well? Which one has the nicest singing voice? Sara has an AMAAAAAAAAAAAZING voice. When was the last time you wore make-up, if ever? What shades/colours? I don't even remember, but I'm sure it would've been black. What is something that seems popular, but doesn't interest you personally? Fashion, various TV shows, etc... Are you clumsy or graceful? I am STUPID clumsy. Like it's just ridiculous. Do you like gloves? I like fingerless gloves. Does your sibling(s) have braces? My older sister did as a kid. Do you ever say "OMG" in person? No; it's a random pet peeve of mine, "Internet talk" irl. What was the last thing your parents got mad at you for? Dad, no idea. Mom, uhhhh. Not "mad," but "annoyed" probably better fits how she felt about me leaving the heating pad I use for my cramps on the floor. Do your pets have favorites? I'm definitely Roman's favorite seeing as he is my literal shadow, and I'd assume Venus trusts me more than anyone else, but realistically, she's in contact with almost no one else, so. Who was your first boyfriend/girlfriend? Why did you break up? The first guy to have the title of "boyfriend" was Aaron, and I broke up with him 'cuz I just wasn't as romantically into him as I thought I might be. It was puppy-dog love, and I feel I knew that. My first *real* boyfriend was Jason, who broke up with me because my mental illnesses began to affect his wellbeing. Which I now accept is fine, but he seriously coulda gone about things differently... When was the last time you got a new bed? Is your bed comfy? Late into my teenage years; idk the exact age and don't feel like doing the math. Teddy kept peeing on the bed to where it was just unrecoverable and needed to be thrown away. My current bed is comfy enough. What kind of games did you play on the playground when you were younger? My absolute favorite was digging tunnels in the sandbox, pretending to be a meerkat. The only trend I ever created, haha, seeing as my classmates got into it with me, allowing us to make huge tunnel systems. It was really cool. I also liked playing 4 Square (which I now don't even remember the details of) on the basketball court. Do you remember the first time you ever drove a car? Who were you with? Yeah, my driver's ed instructor and the guy who was on the same route as me. What’s your favorite thing to do when drunk? Would you do this sober? N/A Are you a fan of dogs? Do you have any as pets? I'm picky with dogs. I like interacting with any dog, but I don't plan on ever owning another. I don't like how hyper they can be, and I prefer more independent pets, like cats. Basically, I'll be hyped to meet a random dog on the street and give it some loving, but I don't want to take it home to be my own. Are you an elitist (even a little bit) when it comes to anything? What? No. I cannot stand elitists. Is just being fond of something enough, or does it take more than that to be a ‘real fan’? And I hate gatekeeping in fandoms even more. There are varying intensities of "being a fan," but regardless, if you like something, congratulations, you're a valid, "real" fan. What type of fabric is most comfortable for clothing? I don't pay attention to this, honestly. If you wear one – bras with or without a wire? I'll wear either, but without is way more comfortable. If you wear one – are you able to find cute bras in your size? God no. What length do you like your shorts to be? I don’t wear shorts. What was the last disappointing movie you saw? Warcraft, but not because it was bad. I've talked before how in the theater, the orcs' voices were just so fucking baritone that I couldn't understand almost ANYTHING they said. Kinda ruined the experience for me. What was the last disappointing book you read? Don't recall. Do you ever watch compilation videos? Of what? Very rarely. If I do, they're mostly of animals being silly. Favorite Disney character who isn’t royalty? Probably Dory, but idk. There's WAY too many options to fish through.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Share a Lair 09 || Share a Scare

Charlotte was asleep on top of Max whenever Billy and Nora began to get ready to go. Their parents were going to come pick them up, so they tried to quietly wash up and gather their things without waking Max and Charlotte. Nora even texted them that Max was asleep so not to make noise whenever they came, after she silently snapped a photo of them to potentially use against him later. He looked more peaceful than she could remember seeing him and he even seemed to be smiling a little, though with the eye mask on, she wondered if he was actually asleep. Had to be though, because he’d have sensed her so close for that photo otherwise.

When the monitor sounded, “Alert, parents approaching,” Max abruptly snatched off his eye mask and started trying to get up. He slid Charlotte over carefully and she stirred a little, but hugged the pillow and remained sleeping.

After a moment to drink her in (which Nora definitely noticed), Max urged his siblings to get their things and leave out of the door before their parents came in. However, they made their way in, saw him and Hank cheered, “Oh! You’re awake!” He winced and looked at Charlotte. Still asleep. He put his finger in front of his mouth and shoved Billy and Nora towards the door.

“Max, who is that girl?” Barb wondered.

“A friend. A sleeping friend. Shhh.”

“That’s Charlotte,” Billy said. “She says she isn’t Max’s girlfriend, but they sleep in the same bed and hold hands and stuff a lot. I think they even kiss!”

Barb and Hank both looked a mixture of surprised and excited to hear this. They’d heard of this Charlotte a few times and well, Max hadn’t been involved with anybody in a while and he was usually his best self when involved with someone special.

“Get out!” Max hissed, pushing the line of them towards the door as they protested, his parents asked questions, Billy defended his assessment, Nora fussed about being rudely shoved, and Max shut and locked the door behind them.

Just in time, because Charlotte stirred and looked up at him. Breathily, he greeted, “Heyyyy, You. Good morning. Sorry to wake you. Billy and Nora left kinda noisily.” She was still partially asleep when she sat up and just sat there for a moment, sort of looking around the room. She was adorable when she first woke up. His heart couldn’t stand it. “You want me to get you some breakfast?”

She stretched, yawned and reached for her dental pouch on the night stand. “Naw. I gotta get to work. Thanks, though.” She washed up in his bathroom, changed into clothes that she had in his closet and grabbed Penelope and her bag to head for the tower. “See you later!” She cheered and was gone. He was lonely as soon as she left.

.

Over the next  few weeks, a few things happened. Charlotte began to sleep over every night, without it being a conversation or requiring explanation. Also, Henry got really busy (and cranky), as his superhero advancement assessments neared. This meant that Charlotte was a little bit busier, too, and spent more time in the tower than usual.

She began moving most of her work needs into Henry’s lair. If he passed his assessments and became a hero in his own right, she didn’t know if he was going to even remain working with Ray. They were close, but Ray was sort of a mess and well…

Henry would never reach his true potential if he just went along with him all the time. He might even be held back if he focused on his loyalty to Ray more than his loyalty to himself and his own abilities. He worked hard to get out of the shadow of Captain Man and to be fair, he worked harder than Ray did, in general.

It was a point that she was making as she gave herself a pedicure in Max’s room while he was working out. “I mean… even you, as an already established superhero are here to advance and not necessarily remain in Phoebe’s shadow…”

“What do you mean, Phoebe’s shadow?” He asked.

“I just mean, well.. she was first. In superhero… on the path…”

“Yeah, but I bested her and was granted the position on Z-Force. Our next assignment was leading together, as a team.”

“A team of Thundergirl and SuperMax. Rarely ever said the other way around.”

“You think Phoebe is better than me?”

“I think Phoebe has been working as a superhero longer than you and that it’s something that others are aware of and something that you probably have thought about a few times. Why are you acting like this?” She was genuinely confused, because this conversation wasn’t even about HIM, it was about Henry and she was merely mentioning him to establish empathy. Now, he looked mad or something. But, he smiled.

“I’m good.” The shade of red that he was let her know that wasn’t my true. She bit her lip. “What were you saying? Something something, Henry. Something something something, Kid Danger."

She sighed. "Can I not discuss my job in your room?”

“Henry is your job? I haven’t heard shit about what you do tonight. Just like a huge list of reasons that Henry is too good for Captain Man…"

There he was. There was the Max Thunderman that she had been wondering Whatever happened to him? And for whatever reason, seeing him like this… hurt her feelings. "Sorry. I will take my list and go.” She began to grab her stuff, but wondered if she should just get her immediate things and go, or take all the crap she’d let get comfy in here the past few weeks?

She was considering it when she felt his hands take her wrists gently, “Charlotte, don’t go. I’m sorry.” She didn’t want to look at him. If she did, she might be susceptible. And she couldn’t be susceptible. His tone was unwarranted, unnecessary and hurtful.

“Acknowledged. I’ll talk to you when we’ve cooled off.” Able to keep herself from looking at him, she grabbed her phone and nothing else. She worried that staying a moment longer might make her weak.

“Char…”

“Goodnight, Max.” She told him and headed for the tower. She hoped Henry wouldn’t make a thing out of this, but she was too upset to be in Max’s quarters right now and she certainly wasn’t about to sit in her car and cry. Besides, there was a couch in the lab if she simply couldn’t face Henry.

Whenever she came into the tower, Henry and Jasper had the TV on and were sitting mighty close. Henry was leaning back against the couch on the floor and Jasper was laying on his belly on the couch, resting on his elbow with his other arm rested on Hen’s shoulder. They turned whenever they heard the door swoosh and said “Hey!” to her. Charlotte waved a hand and wondered, “Could I chill here a moment? I can go into another room if you two are in the middle of something.”

Jasper sat up to make room on the couch, swinging one leg over Henry’s shoulder where Hen was now leaned back into the opening of his legs. “Nah. Come on. We’re watching this hilarious movie.”

“By hilarious, he means terrifying,” Jasper said.

She nodded and sat down next to Jasper, who noticed that something wasn’t right and pulled her onto his shoulder. She tried not to cry, but that gesture made her break her resolve. He looked at her and she just wiped her eyes and shook her head. PLEASE DON’T ASK. Fortunately, he did not. He didn’t say anything, either as Henry was oblivious and throwing his head back to cackle at the horror scenes on TV.

After a while, she was falling to sleep on Jasper’s shoulder and Henry was getting up to get ready to go to bed. “She asleep?”

“Yeah,” Jasper said.

“Gonna leave her here, or take her with us?”

“I don’t wanna leave her here. I think something happened. She was sad when she got here,” she heard Jasper say. Now, she had to either let them know that she wasn’t asleep yet so that much more wouldn’t be said, or pretend to be asleep to avoid facing any questions or feelings.

“Okay. Well, bring her. I’m ready for bed,” Henry said. She felt Jasper gently shift her to carry her bridal style to Henry’s room and continued to pretend to be asleep.

The three of them heard the computerized voice call, “Alert, Superior Hero to You approaching.”

Henry looked around, “What the heck was that?” he asked.

“The monitor thingy announcing Max,” Jasper said, settling Charlotte in bed.

“But, why does she say THAT to announce him?” Henry asked.

“Probably because he’s good with computers and most likely programmed her to do so,” Jasper said, laughing a little. “Get rid of him. He’s probably the reason Charlotte was upset. He never comes to your chambers.”

“Right?”

Henry went to his door and opened it to see Max, clearly fresh out of the shower and seemingly upset. “What?” Henry asked.

“Hey… Is Charlotte here? Her car is still outside, but I think she blotted herself off of the house scan.”

“If she did, I’m guessing it was to dodge you. I don’t know how to check a fuckin’ house scan and I’m positive Jasper doesn’t either. What did you do wrong?”

Max nodded his head and looked at the floor. “You’re right. Sorry to bother you at this time of night. I was just worried about us… her…” He sighed and wiped his hand through his hair. “Just… if she ever wants to talk to me, I’ll be available for her, anytime, always.” He turned and started leaving.

“No snivelling or smug little quips?” Henry asked.

Max winced and forced a smile, “Goodnight, Henry.” He didn’t say anything else as he left the exit from the tower into the main house.

Henry just watched him. What the hell was that about? Henry went into his bedroom, where Jasper was laying on his belly and Charlotte was sitting up. They both were facing the door, waiting for him. He was startled to see them not going to bed. “You two aren’t going to bed, and I’m ready to. So, if you’re about to gash over Max, take it out of here.”

“What did he say?” They both asked, ignoring Henry’s request.

He rolled his eyes, “Something like he’ll wait forever to talk to you or something. Go ask him. He’s barely out of the tower. All I know for sure is that you two better let me go to sleep,” he crawled into bed and they got up.

Jasper walked Charlotte to the door and wondered, “You gonna be alright?”

“Of course. You guys have hurt my feelings worse than he could, plenty of times.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. We’re your friends, that’s your… you know…” Jasper said with the shrug of his shoulders.

Charlotte was too tired to do her whole ‘Whatever do you mean?’ routine, and too sad. So, she just said, “I think that makes it hurt worse. Whenever your friends don’t get it. When they just hurt you and keep going.”

Jasper felt bad. He knew that he and Henry had issues regarding this topic. He was working on it, though. Tonight, he just said, “Well, at least Max didn’t just keep going. He wants to make it right, whatever he did to hurt you and he wanted to do that tonight. If I had a guy like that, with his hair, and brains, the superpowers, my God, that print! I’d be letting him off easy every time, much more the first time.”

“I am. I just… I guess I’m not used to BS from him. I’m used to him being this escape from being sad or angry.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. I know he’s a super, but he’s human. Go talk to him, forgive him, love on him and you know, give him a little tug, on my behalf…” She cackled at Jasper’s shamelessness.

“Henry is gonna ban you if you keep this up,” she warned.

“He should just take it as an opportunity to step his D game up.”

“Wow. Goodnight, Jasper.” She left laughing.

Max heard the monitor announce, “Alert, Future Baby Mama approaching,” and he gasped and assessed himself. He had been eating his feelings for several minutes, gorging on treats from the snacker and had a pile next to him and probably some on his face! He rushed to make sure he was presentable, and when she landed on the landing pad, he felt at least… clean.

She got up and fiddled with her fingers, “Hey. You’re still up.”

“Yeah,” he said and approached her. He stopped just short of her face and put his hands together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to behave so jealous. I just hate how much you love him. I don’t know. It finally got to me when you just… KEPT talking about him.”

“Jealous?” She repeated, with her eyebrow raised. She sighed, laughed, then squealed, “Men are infuriating!”

He nodded, feeling really disappointed in himself, “I try really hard to be perfect for you, because I know that you’re generally surrounded by infuriating men..”

She softened and stepped closer, to fill the space between them, then just hugged him. “That is so unnecessary, Max. Just be you. I like him. I liked him from Day 1… hundred.” He laughed into her hair and hugged her back. “It’s beneath you, Dude. You and Henry being jealous of each other is SO stupid and I don’t understand why either of you feel that way!”

He leaned back to look at her, “The fact that you don’t know why Henry would be jealous of me is part of my insecurity. He should be jealous of me. I’m ME!”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, “And he’s him. Neither of you could ever be what the other one is to me, so to be jealous is absolutely ridiculous. You two don’t mean the same thing to me. You’re never gonna be my lifelong best friend, because that’s already happened already and nobody else can be that for me, not you, not anybody. And as that person for me, Henry’s NEVER gonna be able to be anything else, in my eyes, so for you to be jealous, when you’re who you are to me…”

He stared into her eyes for a moment, waiting for her to elaborate. He really didn’t want to ask her, but since she didn’t seem to be willing to volunteer the information, he did. “Who am I to you?”

“You’re my Maximus,” she said and diverted her gaze from his eyes.

Whether she meant maximus as in “greatest” or “My Maximus,” as in she was FINALLY claiming him, he was satisfied. Beyond, in fact. She looked at him again and saw him smiling. “Let’s go to bed, okay? No more Henry talk,” she decided.

He nodded in agreement. He hadn’t ever wanted to talk about him in the first place. He gave her a kiss on the lips then rested his lips on her face, “Deal.”

[shannygoatgruff]

Stay Safe, Stay Home Writing Challenge - (Call me if you need anything) @waiting4inspiration​

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Modern Ivar x OC

Warning: Language, strong sexual content

Rating: M

A/N:  First my apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. I lost the original version of chapter 7, but I hope you enjoy this slightly longer re-write.  I think this story only has 1 or 2 more chapters and it’s done.  I’m almost through telling the story I wanted to tell.

Next, I got the idea for this from experience I had with an ex, with whom I am still very close friends. We were actually talking about this particular encounter recently, and I thought it would be fun to write it. I will say, if you have never had sex with someone that you are truly friends with, you have no idea what you’re missing out on!  I think the sexiest sex is the kind where you talk to your partner.  Maybe it’s just the stage I’m in my life.  What you’re doing doesn’t interest me as much as what’s going on in your head.

Finally, I used the lyrics to ‘Imported’ by Jessie Reyes without permission.  I love her and that song and when I hear it, I see Ivar and Cash.  I have included the video at the end of the chapter - the vibe of the song is how I see them as a couple.

Enjoy!

Chapter 6 

Chapter 7

When Ivar moved across the floor, there was grace in his movements. His motions were fluid, and because he didn’t use his legs to aid him, how he curved his spine to usher his mobility gave him the agility of a big cat stalking his prey. One-shoulder worked in tandem with the hip on the opposite side of his body creating this... glide, that was simply fucking sexy.  Cash found herself wondering how good the view of him crawling would look from underneath him.      

Crawling for Cash, however, was anything but graceful. She hadn’t gotten very far, just from the dresser to the full-length mirror, but fuck a duck if it wasn’t hard. At first, she tried to be all sexy, and crawl on her hands and knees, but when she realized Ivar couldn’t use his knees, she switched to an Army crawl.  

After the first pass across the floor, she knew this crawling idea was going to be short-lived.  Not only did she not possess the upper body strength to keep it up, but she was also getting hella ashy.  It was bad enough the rain had washed away most of her lotion, but now she was sliding around on the carpet. She was going to look like she had been rolling around in flour at any minute. Her mother would have a fucking fit if she saw the state she was in.

And how the hell was she supposed to get her toiletry tote across the room? It wasn’t like it was a backpack. It was hard enough trying to maneuver herself around, let alone bring something with her.  She had tried dragging it and even pushing it in front of her.  Both ways were taking forever.  At the rate she was going, she and the tote would get to the mirror by her 30th birthday.  

Ivar leaned against the bed watching with curiosity.  He had never seen an able-bodied person struggle so hard to crawl. Why didn’t she just get up on all fours? He appreciated that view of her.  It was much more seductive then whatever the hell she was doing now.  Currently, she looked like she was trying to do the worm in a breakdance competition for quadriplegics.  

“It may be easier if you use your arms.  You have all of your weight on your elbows.  Try using your wrists and hands. That way, you can move your bag with you.” Ivar laid on his stomach facing Cash and demonstrated, “See?  Like this…” 

“See, like this,” Cash mocked in a high pitched voice rolling her eyes as she continued to struggle across the floor.  Suddenly, she felt the sting of his hand as it landed flat on her ass. It sounded much worse than it felt.  It didn’t hurt in the least, but she still gave him the evil eye, “Did you just?” she feigned shock.  

Being the youngest child, Ivar got away with a lot of shit.  He was used to blaming one of his brothers for everything and he always got away with it. It became a little game he liked to play with them that he lovingly titled, ‘How much trouble can I get you in?’  It was during that time that he started doing this mocking, side to side head motion to symbolize his victory.  As an adult, during a triumph, he continued to rock his head in this obnoxious manner, only now, it also included a shit-eating grin, followed by a dab.  

Cash watched the most incredibly mischievous smile spread across Ivar’s face as he bobbed his head and then he dabbed the air.  He spoke some foreign words and seemed mighty pleased with himself. “Oh, chuckle it up, Chuckles.” She rolled her eyes and sat up.  “Ya, perv.”

God, he had been wanting to do that ever since she started crawling. He just wanted to see if her ass was really as soft as it looked.  It was, and it had the right amount of bounce.  “Sorry. I could not resist,” his smile was so big, it was hard to make out what he was saying, “You were making fun of me. It was all I could think to do,” he whined.

Cash turned toward the mirror and started to dump out the contents of her bag. She picked up her wide-tooth comb and folded her legs beneath her. Leaning into the mirror, she fixed her eyes squarely on his image, “If you wanted to cop a feel, all you had to do was ask.”  She watched as his mouth opened and closed, like a fish. 

“What are you going to do?”  He asked, folding his hands in his lap. 

Cash parted her hair down the middle and secured half of it with a ponytail holder. Carefully detangling the other half with a comb, she reached in the bag for a jar and struggled with the top, “I’m going to put my hair in two braids, so I won’t look totally crazy.”  She held the jar out to Ivar.  “Can you open this for me?”

Silently, he crawled to where she sat and took the jar out of her hands.  With one turn he had the lid opened.  “This smells wonderful. What is it?”  

“A moisturizing mask.”

“It smells like coconuts and berries, and…and,” he took another big sniff but couldn’t quite place the scent, “I don’t know but it is amazing.  It smells soft. Like you.”

“Jasmine,” she took the jar from his hand and tried not to blush.  He thought she smelled soft?  “I made this.”

“You make this?”

“It’s not hard,” she shrugged, “All you need are some essential oils for the smell and different kinds of butters.  It’s pretty easy.  It’s good to keep moisture in.  I could even use it on your hair and it wouldn’t be greasy.  See feel.” She titled her hair for Ivar to feel her hair without the moisturizer. “Now you know I must like you because I’m letting you touch my hair.”  Then, she scooped a small amount of product onto her palm before rubbing it into her hair. After she had worked it though she tilted her head toward him again.  “Now feel.”

His eyes grew with amazement.  “That feels awesome.”  Of course, he couldn’t help but bring his nose to her hair.  “And it smells good.” His nose brushed the side of her ear before making its way to her neck, then back into her hair.  “I like this smell.”

Cash giggled at the feeling, but she couldn’t ignore the tiny goosebumps that started to prickle every inch of her skin.  “Do you know how to braid?”  She asked feeling her neck slowly start to lean more into the warmth of this breath. 

“Hmm?” He looked at her eyes in the mirror and noticed that he had been rubbing her arm.  When did that happen?  What the hell was in that jar? “Braid?  A little. I used to help my mother when I was young. She has very long hair.” He watched as a smooth smile crossed Cash’s face.  “Oh, no.  I cannot. I am terrible at it.”  

“Oh, you know nothing, Jon Snow,” she handed him a brush, “you do mine, and  I’ll do yours.”

“And we can have a sleeping party, like girlfriends,” he mocked in a high pitched girl voice and twirled his hair around his finger, “...and paint each other’s nails and do make-overs!”

“That’s a slumber party, jerk. And as long as there are no pillow fights, I’d be okay with it.”  She nudged his shoulder with her own. “But, I hope you don’t want to be my girlfriend.”

Ivar took the comb from Cash and looked at the floor.  He didn’t want to chance to catch her eyes in the mirror, just in case, “I was really kind of hoping that you would want to be mine.”  

“Really?”  Cash asked said softly before capturing his lips for a soft kiss.  “Good. It’s about time.  I was getting gray hair over here, waiting on you to make a move...”  Smiling into his lips, she wondered, how did her tongue always end up in his mouth?  Was she capable of kissing him without needing to feel his velvety tongue on hers?  She pulled away slightly and pecked him a few more times. “Now, I can’t be all kissing and everything with my hair looking like this.  I’m too cute to be looking this tore up. So you helping or nah?”  

Braiding each other’s hair had been the most intimate thing Cash had ever done with a man, besides Glenn, with her clothes on.  Why was it so easy to trust him?  She let him touch her hair – generally speaking, black women don’t let people other their mothers or their hairdresser touch their hair. Hell, Cash’s parents had been married for over 30 years and she seriously doubted that her father had ever touched her mother’s hair. She had known this man for almost 48 hours and she had already let him see her with ashy legs.  What the fuck was really going on?  

It was something more than just being comfortable around him being bushy and ashy, that’s for sure.  Maybe it was the fact that the things that she normally would be embarrassed about she didn’t give a fuck about anymore. She was pretty sure that if she needed to fart in front of him, she would have,  That’s how secure she felt with him.  

Ivar was amazed that he stopped focusing on his the fact that his bare legs were showing and that he was crawling, hours ago. Whatever it was that he was nervous about before he had met Cash in person seemed like a distant memory.  He had just let this woman braid his hair like he was a girl playing beauty shop. 

Granted, the hairstyle looked badass, especially with the way his head was shaved on the sides – but he knew for sure none of his brothers would have let their girlfriends do that.  Hvitserk would talk shit to him about it for years to come because of it, too.  But, he didn’t care, it felt right.  Everything about her delicate fingers gripping his hair and gently massaging his scalp felt incredible. If she wanted to take every braid out and start all over, he would let her.  He would let her do whatever she wanted if it would make her smile.

Speaking of smiling, as he flipped through his phone for more music for them to listen to, his face lit up when he ran across their song. “You feel like singing?” As soon as the opening beat of Imported by Jessie Reyes ft. 6lack started playing, Cash let her head lean back and smiled.  

Ivar grabbed a brush, and handed her one, too.  If they were going to do this duet any justice, they both needed their microphones and to get into character. Mother nature was already setting the scene outside with the rain still beating down against the patio, creating the perfect backdrop for their music video. 

Bringing the hairbrush up to his mouth, he wanted Cash to see how he had choreographed his movements to the song.  He only wished that he had his braces on because he had an entire dance to go with it.  

Hi, my name is 6Lack And sometimes people me SIX-LACK I don’t mind because they stubborn And my bank account is looking mighty fine We can skip the wine and dine Go straight for the wind and grind She wanna cum, I can make it happen, fuck trying

Ivar rolled his hips from his sitting position on the floor with a devilish look on his face that made Cash lick her lips.  Damn, that boy could sing. Plus, he was sexy and gyrating…fuck! She was trying so hard to be good, but the song was talking about going straight for the wind and grind making people cum and sexy stuff and whatnot…she was only human.

Sometimes, I get messy, you can be my biggest secret I ain’t sliding if you wit him Baby, you gon’ have to have to leave him

Ivar wagged his finger at Cash to let her know that he wasn’t the cheating type. He winked at her when she smiled. 

I got morals on Sundays, sometimes on Wednesdays

He shrugged his shoulder and raised a brow.

Really, it depends but,

Ivar tried his best not to laugh at the face she was making at his stage-worthy performance. He was giving her his best big dick energy vibes. 

You, you’re in love with somebody else Maybe I could offer some help (Maybe I could offer some help) Get over them by getting under me

He watched as Cash closed her eyes and began to sing.  He could listen to her sing all day.  She had a beautiful voice and he loved the changes she made to songs. He especially loved what she did to Jessie Reyes’s part of this song.  

But you might O.D. if you get too much of me Might O.D. if you get too much of me

Cash, too, had a routine for this song, but she was not going to do it for him. Instead, she just did what felt natural at the moment.  She ran her hand down her throat to her collarbone then pulled her legs up to her chest. As she sang, she rubbed her cheek against her knee and gave him a vulnerable stare…

Hi, my name is not important I’m not from here, I’m imported I drink liquor like it’s water Hope my liver can afford it I’ve been lyin’ here with I’ve been lyin…, I’ll be lyin here I’m under the covers like

Her voice…that was the same voice he had listened to countless times over the phone, that was singing to him in person.  It was a little overwhelming.  He reached up and cupped her cheek, and when she opened her eyes he leaned in to kiss her. The kiss so slow and deep and it conveyed every thought and feeling that Ivar couldn’t put into words. 

He had so much he wanted to tell her, too.  Like how he was glad she replied to his comment that day on the Jessie Reyes blog for this song.  He had been listening to Imported on repeat because he was still in love with Freydis.  Even though they had been broken up for a couple of years and he didn’t want her back, he couldn’t get over her.  He was stuck mourning for what they could have been. He had so many hopes and dreams for them.  He thought he had found a beautiful woman that could love him despite his disabilities and he would have a chance at a normal life.  But, it didn’t work that way. Nothing in his life ever worked out that way.

Enter this song and this girl: the song was about finding someone to help you get over a broken heart and the girl...she was feeling a certain way because her first serious boyfriend, who she hadn’t been for over five years, was getting married.  Feelings had a funny way of fucking you up.  

But there they were; keyboard gangsters, in their feelings and being flirty.  They were two people on different continents who were never going to meet, so what harm was it to bare their souls?  Nobody ever died from having another friend; especially friends that liked to sing loved musicals and could go into a monologue from a movie with just the last word of a sentence. Really, friends like that were hard to come by.  

Now, if things kept going in the right direction, soon they would be lovers.  

Thank you, Jessie Reyes.

Cash bit Ivar’s neck, causing him to groan and squeeze her body tighter. Good thing the rain hadn’t washed off the scent of Aqua di Gio that seemed to be oozing from his pores.  Damn! How did he know exactly what scents got her going?  Did this man always smell like walking sex?  And was it natural for a man to have skin this damn soft?  

She watched her fingers as they trailed the lines of his tattoo along his left shoulder.  “What’s this?”  She asked as her fingertips came dangerously close to his nipple, before tracing the line back up the head of the figure to the center of his chest.

Ivar watched her nail slowly move across his skin and tucked his lip in between his teeth at the feeling.  “The mythical Norse dragon, Fáfnir.” Did his voice just crack?  She made him feel like a teenager all over again.  

Cash giggled.  She loved the way he suddenly started rolling his “r” and how his “th” started to sound like a z.  Had it always and she just not notice?  “Your accent is stronger,” she let her tongue follow along the line of his jaw, “it’s so sexy.”  

“It’s hard to concentrate on English,” he said matter-of-factly, making sure to slur his Norwegian tongue into his English words,  hands still gripping her waist, gently rocking with her on his lap, “when you do that.”  He pointed his chin toward the ceiling to grant her better access to his Adam’s apple, “You know, I don’t think I have ever been in this situation and had to speak English.”

Cash's eyes opened in bewilderment as she lifted her head. “You know what? I’ve never seen an uncircumcised penis.”  The thought just hit her.  If they were about to go there and she hoped to God they were, they needed to get all of this shit out of the way.  She sat back on his thighs and looped her arms around his neck.  

Ivar’s smile was so big, his eyes crinkled in the corners.  “Now?  You think of that now?  Really?” 

“I’m serious.”  She said settling back with a slight pout, “Circumcision is a big thing in the US, like everybody does it.  But here, not so much, right?  I mean, you’re not Jewish, are you?”  She raised her brow and nudged her head toward him.  “You know what I mean?”

He shook his head.  “You want to know if I am?”

“Kinda?”  Talk about killing the mood.  There were things that she might want to try with him, but she wanted to know what she might be in for first. Nobody liked those kinds of surprises during sex.  “ Is that weird?”  There were just certain things you need to be upfront about. Even though she suspected she wasn’t certain. 

Ivar shrugged with a glint of mischief in his eyes.  “Perhaps you will just have to find out.”  

“Oh, just tell me.”  She slapped his bare chest and rolled her eyes when he made a face like it hurt. “I’ll tell you something.”  

“I’m not telling you that.  But, I will tell you, that I have never seen brown nipples.”  He ran his fingers between Cash’s bra straps and her shoulders, slowly lowering the straps down her arm. When she didn’t protest, he continued to pull the straps lower.  He looked her in the eyes while she bent her arms through the loops to free herself of them. 

Sucking his lip, he let his eyes trail from hers down to her lips, then lower to her neck.  He admired how her pulse quickened when his hands touched just above her cleavage and when his thumbs gently pushed the lace down to expose her to him, he wanted to lick the hollow of her throat.  “You are beautiful.”  

Brown, white, black or pink, skin was skin, and Cash’s was beautiful and the skin on her breasts was just as soft and warm as the rest of her.  He patiently waited while she unhooked her bra and discarded it away from them, before he wrapped his muscular arms around her, burying his face in between her breasts. “I love boobs.” 

“Really?” She said smiling, as he looked up at her from the middle of her chest. “You didn’t strike me a breast man.” 

“I am an everything man.”  He smiled rubbing his face across her soft skin.  “What is that smell?  God…”  

“Ahh…that is Heliotrope Gingembre,  my favorite perfume.”

“Mine now, too,” he said absently.  Closing his eyes with his head laid on her chest.

She kissed him on the top of his head and started to rub the back of his neck, “You think I don’t know that you’re avoiding my question?  I shared.”

“I did not ask you a question and you did not tell me anything.”  He looked up at her and started to bob his head with that shit-eating grin again.  

“I will pop that little bobblehead of yours off your shoulders.  Now you’re just cheating.”  She rolled off his lap and laughed when he pouted at her and started to reach for her like a child.  “Not until you answer me.”  She sat next to him, but faced him and absently rubbed her hand along the hair on his legs.

He watched in amazement as she did.  She didn’t seem the least bit weirded out by his scars. “Okay, I’m sorry. You want to know if I was cut as a baby?” Ivar laid back on the floor and laced his hand with hers.  He looked at their joined hands and held them up to his line of vision before rolling his wrist. Why prolong the inevitable?  She was going to find out sooner or later.  He figured, if she could see his legs and be perfectly with fine them, odds were she'd okay with an unsnipped prick.  “No,  I was not.”  He laid her hand on his stomach with the laziest hint of a smirk on his face.

“Hmm. Interesting,” she responded wiggling her toes.  She chewed the inside of her lip for a moment then shrugged her shoulders.  “Okay,” she got up on her knees and knelt beside him.  Cash let her hands trail down his muscular stomach and found herself smile when she realized that he was ticklish in the spot between his navel and his waist. 

Carefully, her deft fingers slid under the grey waistband of his boxer briefs before she smoothed her hands around to his hips.  Slowly, she lowered the shorts down his legs, never once taking her eyes off of his.  Since Ivar couldn’t hoist his backside off the floor, he aided her by rocking from side to side as she continued to pull the garment down lower and lower. 

And there he was.  Ivar Ragnarsson in all of his birthday glory.  He was a sexy man.  It was the moment of truth and Cash didn’t quite know what to do or say. Was she supposed to comment or compliment?  Was she supposed to touch him or ask questions? There was so much she wanted to do, but she wasn’t sure if any of it was okay.  

“So?” Ivar placed one hand behind his head and the other on his chest.  “No witty observations?”

“Well, you already know you’re sexy, AF.”  She tilted her head and let her fingers trace the dark line of hair that traveled from his navel to the soft tufts at his groin. “But this…it’s different.”

“Different?  What the hell does that mean?” Ivar laughed.  “It looks the same to me.” 

Her eyes got big and she nodded, “Well, you’ve seen it before.  I haven’t…” She touched it.  It felt the same as others she’d held in her hands.  It was thick, had a nice length, and just the right amount of curve to it.  The bounce back, when she pulled it toward her and let it go, so that it slapped back against his pelvis, made a good sound.  By all accounts, it was a normal cock.  It was hard, and hot in her hands and she even noticed how Ivar’s stomach clenched when she made contact with it.  “So does it feel different?”

“Different than what?” He asked with a labored breath as she continued to hold and turn him over in her hand.  “It feels the same to me.”  Did she know what she was doing to him? She wasn’t jerking him or doing anything sexual, not really, merely touching and having a conversation with him.  It was such a turn on.  

“Let me show you.”  He removed his hand from behind his head and placed it on himself. Lifting his head, he attempted some sort of origami thing with the skin.  “This, I think, is what you are used to seeing.”  He rolled his eyes in his head and sucked his teeth, “Whatever.”  He released the skin and smiled.  “My way is much better.  Much more sensation.” 

“Oh, really?”  She was intrigued.  If she were being honest, it wasn’t the cutest one she’d ever seen.  But, that was because she just wasn’t used to it, yet. She was sure in a few days, she would think it was the hottest one she’d ever seen! “How so?”

“This part in there…feels everything, sometimes too much.”  He picked up her hand and placed it back on his swollen member, before closing his eyes at the feeling, “Sometimes, you have to touch it through the skin…”

“Like a clit?” 

Ivar shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know.  I do not have one of those.”  He let his hand travel up Cash’s thigh and settle right below her hip.  “If direct pressure is applied to you, does it make you,” he wound his hands to try to drive the words forward, “finish faster?”

Now it was Cash’s turn to shrug, “Honestly?  I’ve never had an orgasm with another person.”

“What?”  Ivar sat up, instantly regretting the warmth of her hand leaving his body.  “Are you serious?”  This was great!  Neither had he. But wait…if neither of them had, then this could be the worst awkward first sexual experience in the history of awkward first sexual experiences. They would either be eternally frustrated or their first sexual encounter could literally last indefinitely.  

“Yup. Not ever.”  Cash sat up on her knees so that he had full access to her hips. She placed her hands on his and watched as he slowly started to pull down her panties.  “I think the guys that I’ve been with think all women like the same things.  They don’t want to hear that you might want something different, or they just are in it for themselves. I just usually finish myself off.”

Ivar smoothed the lace down her thighs and held still as she used his shoulders to brace herself against him so she could lift each knee up to allow him to slide the material under her legs. 

He didn’t want to seem like a total pervert but he couldn’t help but look at her. She was right next to him with the most neatly trimmed Mohawk he’d ever seen.  “You’re into landscaping?”  He didn’t reply when she nodded.  Instead, he pressed his lips to her stomach.  “So, when you finish yourself off, do you do it alone or in front of others?”

“Like do I perform?”  She gently caressed his head, “It depends on how deserving the audience is.”  

God, he wanted her.  But, he needed to get one more thing out in the open before that could happen.  He wanted total transparency between them, once and for all.  “Me either.” 

He felt his head being lifted from her warm skin and but he immediately dropped his eyes in embarrassment, “I have never had an orgasm during sex.  The doctor thinks it was stress.”   

“That is so sad,” she wanted to hug him, but she didn’t want to make him feel bad.   She was used to it.  There were millions of women who never had and probably never will have an orgasm – so was the plight of being a woman. But for Ivar to never experience it?  He was too sweet a guy.  It nearly broke her heart. “Do you at least get anything out of it?”

“Yeah. I like giving pleasure to someone else.” He tried to sound upbeat, but it wasn’t exactly a happy subject for him.  What he was saying was true, he used to thoroughly enjoy making Freydis feel good. But, what about him? Didn’t he deserve to feel that way? Shouldn’t he get to experience an orgasmic high, at least once in his life?  At least one time that wasn’t self-inflicted? “ And it does feel good.”

“Do you finish yourself off?”

“Never in front of anyone.”  A devilish smile crept across Ivar’s face and when Cash saw that mischievous twinkle in those beautiful blue eyes, her face broke out in a smile, too.  

Ivar had had many sexual conversations with women before but never before had he had a sex conversation with his partner.  This whole thing, this talking and being together, looking at, touching, and getting to know about each other…all of this intimacy was amazing.  

It was scary as hell for both of them, but damn it all if it didn’t feel natural.  Even if their first time together wouldn’t be perfect, or they would have figure out who couldn’t do what because of physical limitations or just plain dislike, it would all pay off in the end.  Neither of them had a point to try to prove to the other or to themselves.  All they needed to do was enjoy each other.  Who cared if neither had an orgasm?  For the first time, they both were feeling something they hadn’t felt in a very long time.  They felt at home, and safe with each other.   

Cash closed the space between them and pressed her lips to his, “Bed or floor.” She laughed when he laid back and put both hands behind his head.  “Oh yea, carpet burns and group masturbation...I knew you were freaky.” 

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