#also him making the entire town say that he can touch the bowling ball is crazy

[sherbetyy]

OH MY GOODNESS!!! not little pauline the post box! :(

[storiesforallfandoms]

cleaning ~ dean winchester;supernatural

word count: 2411

request?: yes!

“can you do dean winchester fluff like major fluff”

description: in which dean goes to her after a rough hunt so you she clean his wounds, and he reveals how much he dislikes hunting now

pairing: dean winchester x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of physical harm

masterlist (one, two, three)

He showed up at my door, bloody and bruised and looking like he was on the verge of passing out. Most people would’ve slammed the door shut and called the police immediately, but then again, most people don’t know what I know abut Dean Winchester.

I extended an arm to let him give me most of his body weight. I struggled slightly, but I wouldn’t let him know. I guided him into my kitchen and sat him down in one of the chairs. It wasn’t the first time Dean had come over for me to clean his wounds, so I knew exactly what to do the minute he walked through my door. I filled a bowl with warm water, grabbed a number of cloths that I didn’t mind whether or not they became stained with blood, and grabbed a bottle of peroxide from under my bathroom sink.

I also poured up two glasses for Dean, one with water and one with scotch. I knew he needed to hydrate himself, but I also knew water was not the drink he wanted right now.

“What was it this time?” I asked as I sat down across from him. I dipped one of the cloths in the warm water and began to lightly dab it against his face.

Dean winced the moment the cloth touched his face. “Poltergeist. It was a strong son of a bitch this time. The usual salting was barely enough to keep us safe while we tried to burn its remains.”

“Is that how you got these marks?”

He nodded. “It tossed me around like a rag doll a few times.”

I winced this time at his description. “Do you need actual medical attention? I can’t do anything about broken ribs or fractured bones.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m fine. I just need rest.”

I finished cleaning the dried blood from his face and moved to use the peroxide to properly clean his wounds. He hissed the moment the alcoholic cleaner touched one of the wounds.

“Stop being a baby,” I teased. “We can’t let these get infected.”

“Doesn’t make it sting any less.”

I chuckled and shook my head at him. He acted so big and tough all the time, but I knew he was just a big baby. Not that I was going to say that to his face.

As predicted, Dean reached for the scotch instead of the water and downed it in one gulp. He placed the glass back on the table, not even glancing at the water I had given him.

“You should drink some water, too,” I said.

“Yes mom.”

He let out a shout of pain as I suddenly pressed the alcohol soaked cotton ball roughly against his wound. I smirked in pride.

This is how mine and Dean’s friendship started. He was hunting with my dad and, after a bad run in with the spirit, dad had brought Dean back to our house, bloody and on the verge of succumbing to his injuries. I worked fast to clean the wounds and stop the bleeding. He had been unconscious for nearly 24 hours, and I sat by his side the entire time. I think part of the reason why I did was because I felt responsible for Dean’s survival since I had been the one to care for his wounds, but the other part of me knew there was a deeper reason for it.

When he woke up, he thanked me for saving him, and that started our friendship. I wasn’t a hunter. I hated the business, in fact. My dad never wanted me to follow in his footsteps and I happily obliged. But that didn’t stop Dean from coming to me when he was in town on a hunt and he needed something; a place to stay, help finding information, and especially getting his wounds cleaned and bandaged up.

At some point throughout the many years of knowing one another, our friendship blossomed into something more.

When I finished cleaning and bandaging his face wounds, I got up to dump the red tinted water from the bowl into the sink, and to throw the blood stained cloths into the laundry hamper. Dean stayed sat at my table, his eyes on the empty glass in front of him. I could tell he wasn’t actually focusing on it. He had a glazed over look in his eyes that told me he was deep in thought.

“Does Sam know you’re here?” I asked. Dean nodded. “Okay. Go shower.”

That snapped him out of his trance as he turned to look at me in confusion. “What?”

“Well you’re not getting in my bed after a hunt without cleaning yourself up first.”

“I...I didn’t intend - ”

“On staying? I don’t care. You’re staying now. Go shower and I’ll grab you a change of clothes.”

He looked at me with confusion still, but once he realized I was being serious he got up and made his way to the bathroom. As I heard the shower start up, I made my way to my room to grab a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and underwear for Dean. He had stayed over enough times that he had a bunch of clothes poked away in my closet, and I was sure his current wardrobe would join the collection.

I changed into pajamas as well and laid in bed to wait for Dean. I heard him turn the shower off, but there was a long pause before he came out of the bathroom. When he came out with just the towel wrapped around his waist, I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger over his body.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” he teased.

“I have, but pictures aren’t as good as the real thing.”

Dean chuckled and took the clothes I had left out for him. He changed, deliberately turning his back to me to tease me I was sure, before getting into bed and taking me into his arms. I settled against his chest, careful of any other bodily injuries I was sure he had but wasn’t telling me about. Feeling his warm body next to mine made me feel a wave of relaxation and comfort over my body. When Dean was off hunting I always worried about him, even if I knew Dean was a more than capable hunter. These brief moments we had, where we could pretend to be a normal couple, I cherished more than anything.

But I could still feel that there was something going on in Dean’s head. I could feel that he was still tense against me, but not in a pained way like if I was laying on a wound. I knew Dean well enough at this point to know when there was something troubling him.

I pulled out of his grasp, reluctantly, and sat up to face him. “Okay, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

He managed a half smile. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve been very distant since you got here; looking off into the distant, taking long pauses when you think I’m not paying attention. Even now you’re laying here in my bed, a place that is safe where you can rest, but you feel just as tense as I’m sure you would be staying in one of those shitty motels during a hunt. Did something else happen tonight that you’re not telling me? Whatever it is, I won’t judge or anything. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know I can,” Dean said with a sigh. “It’s not something that happened. It’s...I’m just tired.”

“Tired as in physically, or tired as in mentally?”

“Both.”

I sat with my back against the headboard and Dean sat up to mirror my position. We were sat side by side, the covers still pulled up over our legs. I reached out to take hold of Dean’s hand in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, (Y/N),” he said. “The hunting, I mean. I’ve been running after the supernatural almost my entire life. I haven’t had a minute of a normal life ever; not a minute of rest. I can’t live like that anymore.”

“So why don’t you get out?”

He gave me a look that told me he thought I was joking at first. When I didn’t mirror his look he said, “How?”

“How what?”

“How would I get out?”

I found his question so ridiculous that I couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Dean, it’s not rocket science. You can just stop.”

“No I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a number of reasons,” he said. “For one, what would Sam do? I just abandon him after being a hunting team for years and, what, he keeps going on his own until one of those monsters kills him? And two, how am I supposed to stop when I know what’s out there now? I know what could come for me at any time, or what could come after you or anyone that I love. How do I put all that aside and hope for that no one gets hurt?”

Part of me really pitied Dean. I was an only child to a couple that were both still together and still very much alive. My dad had been a hunter, but mom hadn’t. Dad did everything he could to not drag mom into that life, and then, when I was born, did everything he could to make sure neither one of us ended up a part of the hunter life. It’s not what dad had wanted for me, so he let me decide on my own which path to take in life.

But Dean wasn’t that lucky. He hadn’t been given a choice on what life he could live. The night his mom was killed, his dad had made the decision for him: Dean would be a hunter and he would protect his little brother no matter what. John Winchester had engraved that thought process so deeply into Dean’s brain that even now, decades after his dad had died, Dean still believed that hunting was the only life he could possibly have. And for that, I hated John Winchester with every fiber of my being.

“Sam is a grown man,” I said. “If you tell him you want to stop hunting, then it’s on him to decide whether or not he wants to continue on his own. You’re not kids anymore, you don’t have to watch over your brother all the time.”

Dean tensed next to me again. I knew I must’ve struck a nerve by saying that. Sam was the only blood family Dean had left. I more than understood why he wanted to protect him so badly.

“If he were to die alone on a hunt, I’d never forgive myself,” he told me.

“I know you wouldn’t, but I also know Sam enough to know that he’s tough. He’s not going down without a fight, if he even wants to still fight. Have you ever wondered if maybe Sam is just as tired of this as you are? He has lost so much because of this lifestyle, the both of you have. He might want the normal life and the ability to rest just as much as you do.”

Dean was silent. I waited to see if he had anything to say to that, but once I was sure he hadn’t I continued, “And it’s not up to you to eradicate all supernatural beings from the world just because one might hurt someone close to you. There’s hundreds of hunters out there, Dean, all over the world. If you decide to step away from hunting, it’s not going to result in the world being taken over the way you think it is. And if anything were to come after you after you’ve left the business, you know how to handle it. That knowledge isn’t going to suddenly go away because you’re not doing the job full time anymore.”

He didn’t say anything again, but I had nothing else to say either, so we both just sat in silence. Dean ran his thumb over my knuckles, deep in thought again.

“What if something happens to you?” he asked.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” I responded.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that nothing has happened to me this far in my life when my dad has been a hunter since before I was even born, and then my boyfriend has been a hunter the entire time we’ve known one another. Stepping away from the business isn’t going to suddenly make supernatural beings come after me. And, again, if they do I’ll have you to protect me.”

When he looked over at me, I could still see the doubt in his eyes. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to try and convince him. He would have to get to the conclusion himself that it was okay for him to take a step back from hunting, but it was a conclusion I really hoped he came to quickly, for his own sake.

I coaxed him to lay back down with me in hopes it would finally relax him. My words had likely fallen on deaf ears, and in the morning Dean would likely be off again for another hunt, leaving me wondering day in and day out when or if I would ever see him again. But, until that happened, I would cherish this moment with him. I would pretend it wasn’t a fleeting moment, like we could be a normal couple for once.

“I love you,” Dean mumbled into my hair. “I don’t think I could live with myself if anything ever happened to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” I assured him. “Not when I have you to protect me.”

I tilted my head back to meet his lips with my own. I settled against him and listened to his heartbeat as his breathing became steady. My eyes were heavy, but I refused to fall asleep until I knew Dean had. Once I felt his body loosen up beside me, I looked up again to see his eyes were closed and he had finally fallen into a deep sleep that I knew he desperately needed. I smiled to myself and kissed his cheek before finally drifting off to sleep myself.

[cora-vizsla]

Cabur Chapter 3

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 9K

Warnings: Talk of strict parents. Swearing. Drinking alcohol. Talk of sex. Smut. Dominant/submissive undertones. Unprotected sex and talk of how reckless that is because you should always use protection. Just a tiny bit of fluff.

AN: I start classes on Monday so I wanted to get out as much as possible. It’s a long chapter but a lot also happens in it. If I missed any tags please let me know!

You helped Din carry everything inside and set him up in your room. He had tried to argue but with him having an ad’ika you felt like he needed the privacy. Once everything was sat down you saw large ears poke out from his bag and your smile was almost painful.

“Who is this?”

He looked down and sighed, nodding at the small creature. It reached for you and you picked it up and it cooed loudly. You giggled and both men tilted their head to the side as if asking you what was wrong with you. It reached its small hand out and touched your helmet.

“What is its name?”

“I’m not sure what his name is.”

“He was your bounty?”

“Yes. Now I’ve been tasked to find his people.”

“What happens if you can’t find them?”

“Then we are a clan of two.”

You held the small creature to your chest and looked down into his big black eyes. He was cute, that was for sure.

“Does he need to eat? What does he eat?”

“Frogs. Anything he can get ahold of.”

Paz barked out a laugh and Din tensed. You brought him over to the kitchen area and started pointing at things. He finally reached out for a can of fish, so you opened it for him. It smelled but he seemed thrilled with it.

“There is a stream close to here. I can go to the village and get you fresh fish. How does that sound?”

He cooed at you and you rest your forehead on his. He shut his eyes and cuddled into you. You ignored the two other Mandalorians in the house and focused on Dins ad’ika.

“He likes you.”

“I like him!”

You glanced up at the two and they were staring at you.

“Why don’t you two go out on the porch. You can take your helmets off. The villagers won’t come near when it’s getting close to dark. I’ll cook and watch the ad’ika.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Din. He is safe with me.”

“I know he is. He can just.. be a handful.”

“He’s my buddy, right sweetheart?”

His face lit up and he touched your helmet again. Din sighed and walked outside. Paz shut the door and looked at you.

“I got the impression you were going to talk to me.”

“I always talk to you, Paz.”

“You know what I mean.”

“We can talk later, okay? Go with your brother. I need space for a little while.”

He nodded and went outside, shutting the door behind him just a little too rough. You set the child on the counter and clapped.

“Alright, kiddo. What do we want for dinner?”

You slipped your gloves off and started to dig through the supplies. You sighed realizing you didn’t have as much as you wish you had. Suddenly a gentle touch skimmed across your hand and you looked down to see the child shutting his eyes and touching you. The image of soup came to mind and the flashes of Din ordering soup for him often. Another image of Din sipping soup under his helmet in a way that the child couldn’t see his face. The child wondered what his savior looked like. You gasped and he moved his hand, looking up at you.

“You use the force, don’t you little one.”

He smiled at you with his sharp little teeth.

“I can make soup, ad’ika. Tomorrow I’ll get you fresh fish to eat, yeah?”

He giggled and you got to working on a fresh batch of soup.

As soon as it was done, you dished out a bowl for the child. He giggled and it warmed your heart that he liked what you did for him. You dished out two more bowls and knocked at the door asking if it was safe to come out. You heard Paz say yes so you opened the door holding the two bowls. They took it from you and Din snorted.

“How did you know the kid likes soup.”

“He told me.”

Din whipped towards you.

“What?”

“You didn’t tell me he’s a force user.”

“What do you know of force users?”

“They have exceptional powers. He used his to tell me how you always order him soup. He wonders what you look like. If he’s your ad’ika why don’t you show your face?”

“I’m.. I’m not his biur. Not yet.”

“Tell him that, though it may break his heart. He thinks the world of you, Din. I’ll go back inside so you two can eat. Sorry it isn’t much. I’ll get more supplies tomorrow.”

When you turned to go back in, Paz grabbed your arm stopping you.

“Thank you.”

You nodded and walked inside, shutting the door and letting out a shaky breath. The child was looking at you and you walked over, seeing he needed more. You sipped at your own the way he had shown you Din did.

“We don’t take our helmets off unless it’s with our children or our spouse.”

He reached his hand out, so you let him touch your bare skin. He showed you Din again, and you could tell he questioned what you had just told him.

“He is tasked to find your people but if he can’t find them you won’t be going anywhere. He will always take care of you even if you aren’t sure what’s going on right now. He won’t ever leave you behind, okay?”

He smiled again and you pat the top of his head. You hoped that Din would figure it out. No child deserved to feel so alone.

---

You cleaned up until the child started to yawn. You scooped him up and walked around, softly singing to him. He fell asleep quickly and you smiled at how precious he looked. After a while you put him down on your bed so he would be in there when Din was ready to sleep. When you walked out both men were coming inside.

“He’s asleep. He ended up really sleepy, so I walked around with him until he fell asleep.”

“Thank you, vod’ika. Sometimes he has a hard time falling asleep.”

“It was nothing, Din. I’m happy to help.”

“Why don’t you tell Din about the little girl in town that needs a biur.”

Din looked at Paz then back at you. You sighed loudly and put your hand on your hip, glaring at the larger man.

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“She has no family?”

“No, she doesn’t. She really likes your vod’ika and hops from home to home to have somewhere to sleep. The village calls this one here cabur and I was yelled at by a small one for speaking ill of her. The little one in question is enamored with her cabur.”

“Vod’ika, why haven’t you taken her in?”

“We aren’t talking about this. None of us. Drop it. There wasn’t even a need to bring it up.”

Din tilt his head to the side, and you could have smacked Paz you were so mad.

“You won’t listen to me. Maybe you’ll listen to Din.”

“Paz, you are the most insufferable pain in the ass I have ever met!”

“And you’re the most bullheaded stubborn sheb I’ve ever met!”

“Well if that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy.”

Paz barked out a laugh and stepped forward. You tensed your body, hands balled into fists as you stared at him. Din looked between both of you and crossed his arms.

“What the hell is going on between you two?”

You both yelled nothing, but it was hard to miss the difference in your inflection. You were furious and wanted Din to know that there was absolutely nothing to talk about. Paz sounded defeated and frustrated that there was nothing going on.

“I might believe that if I didn’t walk up to you on his lap.”

You tossed your hands in the air and let them slap at your legs when they dropped.

“Of course, that’s when you would walk up. You didn’t see all the times I yelled at him or told him off. You weren’t even here to see me shoot him. But yes, you walk up when he pulls me against my will against him. Wonderful!”

“You shot him?”

“Against your will?!”

They both spoke at the same time and you were the one to laugh that time. You slipped your gloves back on and went to the door. As soon as you opened it Paz slapped his hand on it, effectively stopping you from leaving when it slammed shut.

“I will break this fucking door Paz and then you can tell the village why we need a new one. Let me out.”

“You aren’t running away! This is exactly what I was talking about before. Anytime things get hard or slightly uncomfortable you run away.”

“Do you think maybe I’m running from you?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Every time I’ve had to run it has been your fault. Perhaps you should be more worried about your actions that cause me to do this than me doing it.”

He grabbed your shoulder and spun you before pushing your back against the door. You glared up at him and saw Din start to walk forward but he stopped when you didn’t try to fight back.

“I thought we were past this, ad’ika. I thought we were past you trying to run from me when all I have done is try to help you since the moment I got here. Do you know how lucky you are to still be breathing? No one just shoots me and lives. No one yells at me and treats me poorly and gets to live. I’ve killed for far less.”

“Then just go ahead and do it! Go back to the Armorer and tell her that you found me dead.”

“I’d need your beskar, you stupid girl.”

“Over my dead fucking body are you taking this beskar off me.”

“That was just my point! Stars you are obstinate for no reason! If you put half of this fire into getting what you want instead of hiding, you’d have the entire galaxy!”

“I AM NOT FUCKING HIDING YOU GIANT FUCKING OAF!”

Din cackled at that and it broke the concentration between the two of you. Paz stepped back and let go of the door.

“If you aren’t hiding, then talk. Go ahead and run out the door though. I know you’re going to. It’s what you do. You’re no verd. Warriors don’t run from their problems.”

Your entire body was shaking you were so angry. You did want to bolt. You wanted to head out the door and find an entirely new planet to be on away from everyone you knew, including Din. He was supposed to come to you to help you deal with Paz, not question you.

You stomped over to the counter where you kept your alcohol. You didn’t drink often but you had it just in case, more so for wounds than anything else. It was strong and you liked being on your toes. However, this situation was entirely different. You yanked your helmet off and slammed it on the counter, your back towards the two men.

“What are you doing?”

Paz sounded unsure and you could feel Din shifting his weight like he did when he was uncomfortable. You grabbed the bottle and took a huge swig, wincing when it burned your throat. You leaned forward, both hands on the counter and sighed.

“If I’m going to deal with this I’m going to need to be at least buzzed. You’re much to vexing to deal with sober and since your brother has decided to do the absolute opposite of what I was hoping he would do, this is how I’m going to deal.”

You took another swig and pulled your helmet back on, not caring that your hair was hanging below your helmet for once. You turned around and motioned for the living space. It was going to be a long night.

---

Paz filled Din in on everything that had happened in the last year. You chimed in to correct or add to what he was saying. Din listened intently glancing at you when it came up you had been protecting everyone.

“So, you have been living by the creed the entire time.”

“Yes. No one has seen my face. The village doesn’t even know my name.”

“Vod’ika, why are you being so hard on yourself then. Is it your biur?”

You shrugged.

“I think they meant well. I do. It’s just that it.. You know the stipulation when they took me in.”

“I do.”

“What?”

You cursed yourself. Drinking always made you chatty and even though you knew that was what you needed to do, part of you forgot that Paz would be finding things out you had hidden from him before.

“I told you before that the creed saved me.”

“Right, and I said that you didn’t take the creed until years later.”

“You aren’t wrong. The problem is I had to promise to take the creed long before that. Mandalorians are given the choice to take the vow and when they want to. For my biur to take me in, I had to promise that I would train so I was worthy to wear the beskar. Without this metal, without this helmet, I would be dead on the street.”

“So those were your choices? Die or become one of us? Who let this happen? Does the Armorer know about this?”

The more questions Paz asked the angrier he became. It made you tense but it almost felt nice that he knew why you felt the way you did.

“She does. That’s why I was asked to look out for her. They never did anything that could warrant them being sent away, but it was a fine line. There are extremists everywhere in every group, but the Armorer wanted this one to be safe.”

“She wanted me to have a chance. I was forced to take this creed, but it doesn’t change how important it is to me. I swore to be different than them. It’s why I’m so strong in my beliefs, Paz. I need to do things this way, so I don’t end up like them.”

“Then why be so upset about the helmet? Your biur would have disowned you but if you had just gone to the Armorer she would have understood. The rest of us would have understood.”

“I broke the creed. I’ve broken what it means to me. Just because my beliefs on this are different than yours doesn’t make them invalid. I can’t rely on everyone just forgiving the broken creed. I won’t.”

“And you won’t marry outside of love because you don’t want to be like them too?”

You nodded and pulled your legs up, so you were more or less curled up on the couch. Din reached over and put his hand on your knee. He had always been the one to console you even though it wasn’t very conventional. That was how you learned to fight. You channeled all your pain and frustration into fighting.

“Go get some sleep, Din. I have a feeling the kid will be up soon.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind giving up your room?”

“Yes. I have no problem sleeping on the couch.”

He stood and stretched, groaning at the movements.

“Getting old, Din.”

“Yeah, shut up.”

You laughed and said goodnight as he walked back into the room. Before you could stand up to get a blanket, Paz was handing one to you. You thanked him quietly and started pulling your beskar off, stacking it neatly by the couch. You laid down on your side once you were done and Paz sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch so he was close to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of that?”

“It’s not something I like talking about.”

“It doesn’t change that you run from everything.”

“I know it doesn’t. I at least have a reason for it.”

He tilted his head back, so it was resting on your thigh. You felt strange but the feeling wasn’t horrible. His breathing changed a few times like he was going to talk but decided not to.

“Were you actually unwilling?”

“What?”

“When I pulled you on me. Were you really unwilling? I don’t want to upset you.”

“I.. no. It wasn’t unwilling. I would have said something. I was just mad and embarrassed that of all times that was when Din showed up.

He fell silent again and with how steady his breathing was, you almost thought he fell asleep.

“Have you been like that before with someone?”

“Sat on someone’s lap?”

He turned his head to face you and you barked out a laugh.

“Oh! Yes. Yes, I’ve had sex before, if that’s what you’re asking. The creed says nothing about sex.”

“And they never saw your face?”

“You’re the only one who has seen my face since I’ve taken the creed.”

“So, you just had sex with your helmet on?”

You laughed and shrugged.

“It’s the only part of the beskar that has to stay on. You know that. You’re saying you’ve never had sex?”

“Of course, I’ve had sex! What kind of question is that?”

“Oh, so you can question me, but I can’t question you?”

He huffed and rolled his head back, so he was facing forward.

“I guess that’s fair. You know, you’re being pretty bold considering I’m the one who has been drinking.”

“Bold? No. Being bold would be telling you that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckled expecting him to join in with you but instead he just turned to look at you fully.

“I know we fight something fierce. I know that I’m not the most patient person in the galaxy. I do respect you. I think even more than I did before and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Thank you, Paz.”

“You’re nothing like your biur. I understand not wanting to be like them. You just can’t not live because you’re afraid you may end up like them.”

“I’m scared to live. I’m scared to let anyone close. Not that I’ll admit it again once I’m sober.”

He rumbled out a laugh and you smiled at the sound.

“I hope you can begin to trust me.”

“I do trust you Paz. I just know it’s not actually me that you want. You just want the tribe back.”

“You’re so sure of that?”

“Of course. What use would you have for me? You need a woman that will stay home and give you warriors. Someone to come home to. Marrying me out of obligation would do nothing but hinder you. You’re already a warrior. No use for ‘nother.”

“Do I look like the type of man that would come home anywhere? This is the longest I’ve stayed anywhere.”

“I ‘dunno Paz. Look pretty domestic to me.”

He laughed and pulled the blanket up on you, hearing how tired you are by the sound of your voice.

“Get some sleep, cabur’ika.”

“Will you leave with Din?”

“What? Of course not. Din has his own journey. Mine is right here.”

You laughed and rolled away from him. You were so tired that you didn’t even fight him when he turned shut the light off and slipped your helmet off your head. You mumbled out a thank you and giggled when you heard him stumble into his room.

“G’night Paz.”

“Goodnight, cabur.”

---

You stood on the porch watching the sunrise the next morning. You could still hear Paz snoring and as annoying as it was, you were getting used to the sound. When you heard the door open, Din walked out holding the small child.

“Good morning”

“Morning.”

“He wake you up early?”

He grumbled and handed the kid to you. You smiled and scratched the top of his head, smiling when he cooed at you.

“How long are you staying?”

“Depends on if you and Paz are going to kill each other.”

You sighed and sat down, leaning against the wall. Din joined you, keeping one knee bent so he could rest his arm on it.

“I’m not going to kill him.”

“Well then you’re going to need to have sex with him. One or the other.”

You laughed and smacked his arm.

“Din!”

“I’m serious. The two of you need to get some energy out and it’s either going to be fucking or killing. I’ve known both of you for a long time. Never seen either of you at anyone’s throat like this.”

“He wants me to marry him.”

“I know you have your own ideas for marriage, but in our tribe, you know it’s about convenience and strength. Who can you be compatible with to make sure the tribe lives on?”

“I hear what you’re saying.”

“You’re letting your pride keep you from the tribe. We need you. Paz needs you. The Armorer isn’t on Navarro anymore. I’m not sure where she is or where they all moved to but there aren’t many people left. Having one more person would be a huge deal.”

“So, I just enter into the marriage like a negotiation?”

He shrugged.

“Why not? Aren’t most marriages like that? Not that I’m well versed in that but it’s all a negotiation. Decide what you both can and can’t live with and meet in the middle. As much as he pushes my buttons, he isn’t a bad man.”

You sighed and nodded.

“I know he isn’t. I just don’t want him to regret it later.”

“That sounds like his decision to make. Not yours.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

You tilt your head and laughed, picking up on his playful mood.

“Thank you, Din.”

“You’re welcome, vod’ika. You two will figure it out. Neither of you have anywhere else to be. May as well be together instead of you both being alone.”

“What about you?”

“I have the kid.”

“And what happens if you find his family?”

“Then I’ll be showing up on your doorsteps. Don’t worry about me. I’m used to doing things on my own as a bounty hunter.”

“That mean you’re leaving soon?”

“I need to. I have a lot to do to find the Jedi. It seems like every time I find something out, I need to do five different highly dangerous things to find out something else.”

You laughed and rest your head on his shoulder. He squeezed your leg playfully before sighing at the child.

“You ready to go, kid?”

He looked up at you and touched your hand. You slipped the glove off, letting him connect with you again. He showed you his time with you and you felt how comfortable and safe he felt. You smiled and pressed your forehead to his.

“You will always be welcome here, ad’ika. Take care of Din for me, yeah? He won’t ever admit it, but he needs you just as much as you need him.”

Din sighed next to you but didn’t correct your statement. You handed the child over to Din and stood when he did.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to Paz?”

“I already told him I’d be gone by the time he woke up. Besides, I’ll see you two again. You know how to get ahold of me.”

“I do.”

“Thank you for letting us stay here.”

“Always, Din. I mean that. If you ever need anything just call. The blue giant and I will be there.”

He put his forehead to yours again and you shut your eyes, not wanting to cry. As much as you knew he needed to go, you were going to miss him terribly.

“This is the way.”

“This is the way.”

He stepped away and slung his bag over his back, walking into the woods and out of sight. You looked back towards the cabin and sighed, knowing there was a huge talk that needed to happen between you and Paz. You hoped desperately that both of you could keep calm enough to come to an understanding.

---

Paz finally came out of his room and you motioned for him to sit next to you. He instead sat in front of you by the wall and you sighed.

“You’re so stubborn.”

“We know this. Din leave?”

“Yeah. He left this morning. He said you already knew he was leaving.”

“I did. We don’t really do the goodbye thing.”

“I let him know that if he needed help from us to just comm me.”

He snorted and crossed his arms.

“Volunteering me now?”

“Well you seem to be sticking by my side so yeah.”

“Where else would I go? Not like I have a home to go to.”

You crossed your arms and tensed up.

“Is that how you feel? We just built you an entire room, Paz. You don’t see this as your home?”

“It’s not sustainable. We’re safe for now but soon enough they will come looking for us. There are a lot of people who want to wipe out the Mandalorians.”

“Why are you being so hostile today?”

“I’m not being hostile.”

He basically snapped at you, so you narrowed your eyes. When you tilt your head to the side he scoffed and looked away.

“Could have fooled me.”

You got up to head to the kitchen and heard him stand, following you.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

You turned and he was directly in front of you. You jumped slightly and he wrapped his hands around your biceps. You already had your armor on, but he easily wrapped his large hands around you.

“You keep running.”

“Paz, I’m going to cook food. Aren’t you hungry?”

“What?”

You laughed and shook your head slightly.

“I was going to go into town today to get fish for Din’s ad’ika but since they’re gone, I wanted to make something to eat and figure out what we need. I still have some of the soup or I can make something new.”

“I.. you don’t need to cook anything new. The soup was good.”

You started heating the food up while he stood leaning against the wall. He had his arms crossed as he was watching you.

“I know that when you came around, we were already pretty secluded, but our warriors were never meant to fight alone. We used to have vast armies, and everyone had their role. When the purge happened is when we had to learn to fight on our own. We held onto the tribe mentality as much as possible, but I always hated how we taught the young they were on their own.”

You listened to him, leaning back on the counter. As much as you normally would say something sarcastic, hearing Paz speak about the culture was always something you enjoyed. It also helped that he wasn’t talking down to you.

“When I could be around to teach the children, I made sure that they knew we were important to each other. I think being out on my own made me forget that for a long time. Being utterly alone makes you think of things differently, even if that means it isn’t always right.”

“I can agree with that. When you’re the only person you need to look out for it becomes a little easier. I don’t.. I don’t usually care so much about myself. What has kept me going is the obligation to the village here and making sure I could send back to the tribe whenever possible.”

You dished out the now warm soup and moved to the living area, sitting down on the couch. Paz sat down on the chair near the kitchen and you heard his helmet set down on the counter. You took your own off and sat it next to you. You were surprised at how comfortable it was being in the house with him, even if you couldn’t really look at him.

“When I first came here, I refused any comforts. I slept on the ground in a side alley in the village. It made the village very upset to know I wasn’t warm and safe. They didn’t understand that it doesn’t really matter where we sleep; we’re just happy to be actually sleeping.”

Paz chuckled and you smiled.

“They offered me all the best houses there, but it didn’t feel right taking from them. They finally insisted I live here and furnished the entire thing. I didn’t really have any credits to offer them, but I couldn’t just take without payment. That was how we decided on our agreement. I could help them, and they could help me. It makes them feel good when I’m taken care of.”

“And you feel better know that you’re keeping them safe.”

You hummed in agreement and drank some of the soup, smiling at the memory of the small child enjoying it so much.

“Running may have been what brought me here, but it isn’t what kept me in one place. I am comfortable but I just wanted to feel like I was taking care of someone like I would have been taking care of the tribe.”

“You have a very kind heart, cabur. I understand fearing being like your biur but you are nothing like them.”

“Thank you. It makes me feel better hearing that. I know that they were extreme and stricter than most. I just want to live by the creed without losing who I am at the core.”

“You sound more at peace today.”

“I guess so. Din and I chatted before he left. Plus talking to both of you last night helped too. I’ve been… stubborn.”

You heard him slip his helmet on, so you did the same. He sat down next to you on the couch, being physically close to you for once. You turned so you had your legs crossed and could face him fully. He made the couch look so little but there was more than enough room for you to sit any way you wanted.

“I did always tell myself that I would only marry for love. However, your point that I don’t let anyone close to me was valid. I can’t love someone if I don’t let myself near anyone.”

“Did Din tell you that, so you finally believed it?”

“No. I knew when you said it that you were right. I’m not very good at admitting that.”

“Neither am I.”

You laughed and nodded.

“There aren’t many of us left and those that are happen to be scattered across the galaxy. I am lucky to still have two tribesmen close to me.”

“We are lucky to have that. You aren’t the only one.”

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry. I’ve been horrible towards you for saving my life and it was wrong of me. I don’t know if I would have done the same thing for you then, but I would now. I’m sure you know that I’m not in love with you, but I do have tremendous respect for you. I know there are things we would need to talk and work out, but if you truly want me to be your riduur, I will accept. This is bigger than just the two of us. Our tribe needs both of us”

He turned and put his hand on your knee. His hand felt warm even with all the armor and you tentatively put your hand on top of his. He squeezed your fingers in response.

“What do you need from me?”

“I don’t expect us to change. I don’t want us to feel like we need to act differently.”

“What of ad’ike? Do you still want children?”

“Yes, eventually. There are plenty of children who need biur. When we are both ready and feel like it’s time, we can discuss it.”

You expect him to bring up the small girl in the village, but he didn’t.

“I also want you to promise me that you will not regret this. If you.. meet someone else.. and want to promise yourself to them, then you need to do it. I will not come in the way of your happiness. Not any more than I already have.”

“You would absolve it for me to be with someone else?”

“Yes.”

“You know that means you likely would never find another within the tribe.”

“I know, Paz. You did save my life and now you want to marry me to so I can go back to our family when the time comes. I at least owe you a way out.”

He reached over and pulled you, so you were sitting sideways on his lap. One arm wrapped around your waist and the other rested on your leg.

“I know I’ve made mistakes and I’ve let you down. I’ve hurt you more than any enemy could and for that I am sorry. I know you think in your head that I am only doing this because of the tribe but that isn’t true. I want us to start over. I will do whatever it takes. We can figure all this out together. We both know what is at stake and I’ve let you down before, but I am so thankful for this chance. You said you don’t want us to change, but cyare you have already changed me so much.”

You felt your chest tighten at his admission. You desperately wanted to say something, but you were at an absolute loss of words.

“You deserve so much better than what you’ve gone through in your life. You deserve so much better than me.”

“No. No you’re a good man. I don’t know that I can physically not give you shit every day but don’t think for a second that I think less of you.”

He chuckled and held you tighter.

“I wish you could see yourself for the warrior you are. Your strength is so much more than could be put in words. I’m glad you opened up to me last night. I know it hurts to do that.”

“It does.”

“I need to see all of it though. Just like you need to see every side of me. Guess it’s a good thing you’ve already seen me being a total asshole.”

You laughed and felt some of the tension fall from your shoulders.

“I just feel you’re settling because you feel guilty about my broken creed.”

“It’s much more than that to me now. I would be the luckiest Mandalorian in the galaxy to have a riduur as strong and resilient as you. Someone to raise warriors with together. Between your smarts and my brute strength, they would be unstoppable.”

He placed his hand on the side of your helmet and turned your face towards his.

“Whenever you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together.”

---

Your trip into town was fairly uneventful. You were able to tell Paz more about the village and the history you had learned from the elders. He listened intently which made you incredibly happy.

Something had shifted between the two of you. His entire attention was on you and his movements synced with yours. You tried to remember if he had always gently touched your back when you stopped to look at something. Did he always turn towards you so fully when you spoke?

You couldn’t figure out if he was acting different or if it was you. It was entirely possible that you were finally letting that wall down around him. You noticed things that would keep you alive but social interactions weren’t something you looked at closely.

It wasn’t that you disliked what he was doing. It was just different.

“The market should be opened by now. There isn’t usually a lot left so I don’t feel as bad taking what no one else wanted.”

“They get more supplies tomorrow?”

You nodded and felt your face heating up. He was overwhelming but you absolutely decided you liked this side of Paz. The two of you continued through the village and made it to the market. You worker smiled at both of you and you didn’t miss the way she looked at Paz’s hand resting on your lower back. She gave you a huge smile and wished you both a good day.

“They’re all so friendly here.”

“Yeah, they are. It’s nice to not hide who we are. They like the fact that we’re Mandalorians.”

“Nothing like Navarro.”

“Which is why I like it here.”

You walked back to the cabin, both carrying the food. You put things away and started a meal, having finished off the soup earlier that day. Paz sat in the kitchen chair watching you cook and hum to yourself.

“Is there something you want to talk about? I don’t think you’ve looked at me this much in my entire life.”

“I think you need to bring Lahta here.”

“Paz.. I don’t want this life for her.”

“It would be her choice. Your circumstances were different. That isn’t the norm. We bring foundlings home and give them a chance regardless of what they choose.”

“I’ve never seen someone not take it.”

“I don’t know many that haven’t. It is still a choice.”

“Then they’re cast aside if they don’t want to?”

“No. They live with us as part of the tribe. You don’t remember people being around with no helmets on?”

“My biur kept me away from most. Can we.. can we talk about this later? I’m a bit overwhelmed if I’m being honest. We’ve talked about a lot today.”

He sighed but nodded.

“Okay. We will talk again though.”

You nodded and finished cooking. You did want to discuss bring the girl home. You had thought about her often and it kicked up once you found out she had no family. It was just too much to process. You sat the plate down in front of him.

“When.. when do you want to.. share vows?”

You winced at how meek you sounded.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“How do I know I’m ready.”

“I’m not sure. You will though. We will both know.”

You grabbed your food and walked into the living area again. Slipping your helmet off, you started eating enjoying eating a hot meal. You thought about how soon you could actually eat with Paz and it did warm your heart.

“You looked beautiful when you were dying.”

You choked on your drink and started coughing.

“What!?”

“No.. I.. fuck.. When I saw your face. You were beautiful.”

“Paz, there were a thousand different ways you could have said that better.”

You burst into laughter and you heard him grumble.

“I mean it. I didn’t mean to put my foot in my mouth, but I did mean it when I said you’re beautiful.”

“I do have to say that when I thought of my future husband calling me beautiful, it didn’t sound like that.”

“Maker kill me now.”

“No. Not now.”

“When then?”

“I told you. Once you go lay down by the wood line. I’m not dragging your ass.”

You burst out laughing when you heard him slam his helmet on, so you did the same. He stalked over to you, looming over you still sitting. You desperately tried to stop laughing but you failed miserably.

“You think you’re so funny, huh?”

“I think I’m fucking hilarious, actually.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm? Did you not hear me? Is your hearing going, old ma-“

You were cut off when he abruptly grabbed you by your chest armor. He lifted you up like you were absolutely nothing and spun so he was pressing your back against the wall. He moved himself forward, pressing his body against yours. You worked hard to control your breathing, but he must have noticed. The dark chuckle that came from deep in his chest sent a shiver down your spine.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?”

You knew damn well if you spoke at that moment your voice would have cracked, so you shook your head instead.

“That’s what I thought, little one. You’re such a brat sometimes, you know.”

“I may have noticed.”

He chuckled again and pushed one of his legs between yours, holding you up more efficiently. You stifled a small gasp but again he chuckled at your reactions.

“I think you like getting a rise out of me, cyare.”

“Perhaps you’re just easily provoked.”

He pressed his leg forward more and you gasped. Your hands shot to his shoulders and you gripped the straps to his armor. He moved his hands to your hips and gripped them hard.

“I’ve thought about this, you know. I’ve wondered what little noises you would let slip through your lips when I put my hands on you. I’ve thought about how much you would like me dominating you. Tell me, cabur’ika, is this the reaction you were hoping for?”

“Stars you and cocky.”

“Tell me to stop then.”

“Why would I do that?”

He growled out a laugh and lifted you more so you could wrap your legs around his waist. He immediately turned and head to his room, kicking the door shut behind you.

“Holy shit its dark in here.”

You hadn’t even thought of putting a window in, more concerned with having a space for him. He pinned you back against the wall, using his body to keep you up when his hands moved up and took his helmet off. You inhaled sharply through your nose but there was absolutely no seeing anything even as your eyes adjusted to the dark.

“It has its uses.”

“I can’t see anything.”

“Good. Then we aren’t breaking the rules.”

“Pretty fine line.”

He chuckled and moved his hands to your helmet. You tensed slightly but nodded, helping him remove it.

“Your bucket is so light.”

“Well in comparison to yours all my armor is light I’m sure.”

He set your helmet down carefully next to his on the dresser and placed his hands gently on each side of your face. Your breath was shaky as you moved your hands up to do the same to him. You smiled when you felt his soft skin and the facial hair covering the lower half of his face. You traced your thumb across his bottom lip and felt the sigh slip through.

“So, this is why you asked if I had sex with my helmet on. You figured out a loophole.”

“Surprised someone as smart as you didn’t think of it.”

“Maybe I just don’t like cheating the system.”

Your voice was playful, and you felt a smile spread across his face.

“Hmm, but if we didn’t cheat the system how would I ever be able to do this?”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. You gasped against his lips at the sensation. You had thought of kissing before, but you never expected it to feel so intimate. You had let others touch your body, that didn’t seem like a big deal to you. His lips pressed against you was hands down the most intimate feeling you had ever experienced.

You were afraid that you would feel inexperienced and naïve, but the way Paz kissed you was everything. He slowly showed you what to do with your mouth in a way that made you hungry. This was nothing like how you learned how to fight; violent and unforgiving. You learned how to press your lips to his in a way that clouded every other sense. The feeling of him against you quickly made you breathless. When he broke away, he pressed his forehead to you and rubbed his nose against yours.

“You have far too many clothes on, mesh’la.”

“I guess you should fix that problem then.”

He chuckled and kissed you quickly before starting to work on your armor. It was shocking to you just how easily he was able to hold you up. He made quick work of your armor and you laughed at the fact that he seemed more proficient than even you were.

“I may have studied your armor so I would know just how to get it off you.”

“How often have you thought of doing this?”

“I’m not sure they make numbers that large.”

You bit your bottom lip and giggled as he unhooked the rest. You went to start on his but he stopped you.

“Please, cyare, let me do this. Let me take care of you.”

You hesitated before letting out a breathy response of okay. He moved to pull your gloves off and then your shirt. Once your skin was bare, he pulled his own gloves off and ran his hands up your sides with a groan.

“You’re so soft. Stars how are you so soft?”

He leaned forward and started peppering kisses down your neck and shoulders while his hands ran roughly up and down your sides. Eventually he wrapped one arm around you and pulled away from the wall, quickly moving to the bed where he set you down on your back. He pulled your pants off you leaving you completely bare below him. You were able to see his outline but with how dark it was it was absolutely impossible to see details beyond that.

“Why is it that I’m the only one with nothing on?”

“Is someone impatient?”

“Yes.”

He laughed and made quick work of his armor. You watched him as you moved further up the bed, getting comfortable. He unceremoniously removed his clothes and tossed them on the floor near his feet. Your heart started to race when he crawled up the bed and grabbed your hips. The surprised gasp that fell from your lips was embarrassing when he yanked you down, so you were directly below him.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll let you go right now.”

“That would make me an awful liar.”

He kissed you again as you ran your fingertips across his skin. His chest was littered with small scars and bumps from years of fighting. It was a start contrast from the way that he gently kissed you. The man had destroyed and killed for most of his life yet his hands were skilled in the way that they gently worked your flesh in them.

He trailed his kisses down your neck where he suckled the skin, absolutely leaving marks in his wake. You breathlessly moaned at the sensation and he groaned in response.

“Such beautiful noises for me, cyare. Stars this is better than any dream I possibly could have made up.”

He worked his way down, worshiping every inch of your skin that he could get to. When he pulled your pebbled nipple into his mouth you arched your body into his. He gripped your hips roughly and held you in place. Your hands shot to his head where you laced your fingers through his hair. He groaned against your sensitive skin when you gently tugged at his roots.

“Tell me what you want, mesh’la.”

“Oh stars. You. I want you.”

“Hmm, that isn’t very descriptive.”

You huffed in frustration and he chuckled. He slipped off of you, so he was laying at your side. You wined at the loss of contact but quickly silenced yourself when he kissed you deeply. He continued to kiss you as he ran his hand down your body until he was able to slip a single finger between your already soaked folds.

“Maker, cyare, you’re already so wet for me.”

You moaned against his lips and he started working your sensitive clip. He kept kissing you as he worked your body better than you possibly imagined it could be done. When he slid his hand down further and started to slip a single digit in you gasped at the way it stretched you.

“Maker, Paz.”

“Fuck you’re tight.”

He grabbed your hand closest to him and guided it down to his throbbing cock. You gasped again when you felt just how large he was.

“Uhm, how.. how is that even going to fit in me?”

He laughed and continued to push his finger in and out of you. When he pushed a second in you arched your back and moaned loudly.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No. Oh stars.”

He continued working you and you wrapped your hand around his shaft. He groaned when you did and picked up the pace that he was using on you slightly. He continued kissing and sucking at your neck as you felt your climax inching towards you. When he started rubbing his thumb against your clit you cried out soon after, hit hard by your orgasm.

“Fuck I need you, cyare. T-tell me to stop.”

“No. Please don’t stop Paz.”

“Come on, mesh’la. Tell me what you want. I need to know. I need to hear it from your pretty mouth. I want to hear you beg for me.”

You whimpered when he pulled his fingers from you, feeling suddenly empty. When he kissed you, you pushed him and climbed over, straddling his waist. When you placed your hands on his chest and sat up, he groaned and gripped your hips hard.

“Why is it me that has to beg? Maybe I want the great Paz Vizla begging for me.”

“Oh, is that what you want? You want me to beg you to fuck me? Beg you to sink that tight pussy down on my cock?”

“Yeah. I do.”

He hummed and pushed you down, making you grind along him. You gasped and grabbed his wrists. He chuckled and used your surprise to flip you both back over. You gasped again when your back hit the bed and he pressed his weight on you. He kissed you deeply, so you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him further forward.

“Such a needy woman. Just tell me what you want, and you’ll have it. I’ll always do whatever I can to give you everything.”

You wanted to fight against him. You wanted to prolong the game and not give in. You didn’t want to submit; not yet. Something about the way his hands ran over your body and how he pressed into you dissolved any resolve you had to keep your submission at bay.

“I want you, Paz. Please. Show me how much you want me. Let me give you ever piece of me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He kissed you again, this time softer and passionately. One hand held the side of your face while the other reached between you. You felt him press against you as he continued to kiss you.

“Relax, mesh’la. It’s just me. You know me. You know I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

You moaned against him and he gently pushed into you. The stretch was slightly painful at first, so you appreciated the care he was taking. He pushed the entire way in, filling you in a way you never knew possible.

“Haar'chak, you are so tight.”

He braced himself on his forearms that he placed by your head. When he stared moving inside of you, there was no way you were stopping the moans from falling from your lips. Your entire thoughts were consumed with him and everything he was making you feel. You wanted to move your hips to meet his thrusts, but he was just too much. You were too full, and his body had your legs spread too far.

“Stars how I’ve dreamt of this. I’ve dreamt of you split open on my cock moaning for me.”

You cried out at a harder thrust when he hit just the right spot inside of you. Paz groaned and hooked one of your legs up higher. You felt tears start to well in your eyes at just how overwhelmed your body was. He had achieved the impossible by going further inside of you.

“Come on, cyare. Cum for me. Let me see what it feels like.”

He tilted back so he was on his knees, lifting your lower back up so he could continue to pound into you. He moved his thumb to your clit and worked it until you screamed out. When you clamped down on his he growled and moved quicker. You let your head fall back onto the bed as he mercilessly pounded into you.

“Where?”

“Inside. Fuck- implant. I have the implant.”

With three more strong thrusts he came hard inside of you. He stayed deeply seated inside of you until you felt him start to soften and he slipped out. You whimpered at the feeling and he chuckled as he flopped on the bed next to you.

“Fuck, Paz.”

“Already did.”

You laughed out trying to catch your breath.

“I guess now would be a weird time to ask if you have any diseases, right?”

You turned to where you knew he was and laughed again.

“Yeah that talk is usually before sex. But no. I have no diseases. We honestly should have had this entire talk long before now.”

“Oh well. Not a lesson I plan on needing.”

“Oh?”

“Nope.”

“Not planning on fucking anyone else within an inch of their life?”

He barked out a laugh and pulled you, so you were resting on him. You shivered when your sweaty skin started to cool off, so he yanked a blanket over both of you.

“No. You’re going to be my wife, mesh’la. I’m all in with you. Even if you didn’t have the exact body made to fit against mine.”

“Hmm. You sure know how to lay it on thick, Vizla.”

“Oh, I’m just starting. For now though, sleep would be nice.”

You nestled into his chest and sighed. For the first time in a long time your body felt relaxed and comfortable. Before long the sound of his snores filled the room and you smiled against his skin as sleep took you too.

---

Translations Haar'chak: damn it cayre: belovid ad’ika: little one, child vod’ika: little brother/sister cabur: protector/guardian

[mourntheantagonist]

“You’ve never been bowling?”

Steve is looking at Billy like he just said the worst thing in the whole world.

“No?”

Billy was standing in Steve’s room inspecting the bowling pin that sat on his desk, the one that Steve had stolen one night when he and Tommy had broken into the alley after homecoming. Steve remembers crawling down the slick lane and reaching for the center pin because he didn’t intend to end up like Tommy who had taken just two steps passed the line before he wound up flat on his back with his head hitting hard enough against the wood floor that he would have a headache for the next couple of days.

Teenagers in Hawkins had their pick of only four places in town to hang out unless they were willing to take the hour long drive into the city for some real entertainment. Those four options included the junkyard, the quarry, The Hawk, and of course, the bowling alley. More often than not it would be far too cold for the quarry or junkyard, and The Hawk was only ever good for taking girls to sit in the secluded back row while they didn’t bother to even pay attention to the movie on screen. So Steve, Tommy, and Carol all found themselves at the lanes fairly often.

It was one of the few little things he had where he felt like he was genuinely having a good time with friends. When people came over to his house he could never escape the thought that they were only there for the free booze and his pool and his parents who didn’t give a fuck and not for Steve himself. Drinking out of a flask Carol snuck from her mom while they sent multiple balls down the lane at a time giving the staff a never ending headache when they fucked up the ball return was an entirely different atmosphere.

So Steve had a nice relationship with bowling. It was such a stupid little activity he did drunk or high with friends, but those were some of the best times of his life.

And to find out that Billy had never been bowling before? He was beyond offended.

“How have you never been bowling before?”

Billy just shrugged his shoulders like Steve was being entirely ridiculous with his shock. “I don’t know, maybe cause San Diego has more than five things to do? Why would I waste my time throwing a ball into a gutter?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Steve says, taking the pin from Billy’s hand because he simply lacks the proper respect to wield it. “We’re going bowling, right now.”

Before Billy could even begin to protest, Steve was dragging Billy down the stairs and out through the front door, and Billy was just too curious and too preoccupied enjoying Steve’s assertiveness over something as trivial as a heavy ball and ten pins.

Since the alley was only four blocks away from Steve’s house, they were in and out of the car in no time at all. It was late at night on a Wednesday so the alley was mostly empty save for the actual bowlers who weren’t just there to wreak havoc.

Just as you walk through the glass double doors, directly to the left was the most pathetic arcade you could ever see. It was really bold to even call it that with the flickering neon sign that hung above the entryway. All they had was a mostly empty claw machine, pinball, and the only actual arcade game worth playing, Pac-Man, had a piece of white printer paper taped to the screen with ‘out of order’ written in black sharpie. Billy was already having trouble reasoning why Steve would choose this run-down place with the loudest carpet flooring he’d ever seen as his main hangout space.

While Steve paid for their shoe rentals and their game, Billy wandered around aimlessly, staring at the rainbow of neon that decorated the place that seemingly had no rhyme or reason for its pattern. Most of the other bowlers were all together at the far right of the building, so of course Steve reserved the far left for the two of them. Steve hands Billy his pair of size elevens and together they walk over to their own personal lane, secluded from everyone else in a way that almost felt entirely private.

Steve has had a fucking attitude since the moment Billy mentioned how he’d never been bowling before. Even with the close proximity of the alley to his house, Steve insisted on driving ten over the speed limit, something he constantly was on Billy’s ass about whenever Billy drove the two of them in the Camaro. He just stared forward mumbling “I know the chief of police” whenever Billy opened his mouth to say anything about it. But, with all of the anger in that little body of his, there was also enough excitement clear in the way he walked from point a to point b that calmed Billy’s lingering thought that Steve might just take the two bowling balls he had in his hands and smash his head in if he even dared to say a word about all of his huffing.

So Billy kept his distance and let Steve set it all up for the two of them, setting the balls into the return and entering their names into the system. It was then, while Steve was sitting in front of the little monitor punching away at the keypad that Billy finally saw Steve’s look of anger change to a smile... but not a happy smile. A fucking evil smile. Steve looked up at Billy with the most heinous eyes before darting his eyes over to the screen above the lane before he broke out into a fit of laughter. Billy looks up to the screen and sure enough, printed in bold digital lettering read two names.

1. Steve

2. SugarTits

“Real mature.” Billy said, barely having his voice heard over Steve’s own laughter, “You finally out of your pissy mood?”

“Just put on the shoes sugar tits.”

The two of them slipped on those absolutely ridiculous looking bowling shoes and what was originally all fun and games to Billy had quickly turned on its head.

Steve was up first. And yeah, Steve did spend a lot of his time at the alley just goofing off, but occasionally he would actually try to knock down some pins.

And he was fucking good at it.

Billy watched as the ball traveled fast down the lane with the perfect spin, knocking over all ten pins right on impact. The ‘X’ appeared on the screen and Steve turned around with the most smug look on his face that Billy had ever seen.

“And that’s called a strike.”

Billy just scoffed. Sure, Billy hasn’t ever held a bowling ball in his life, but he schooled people at skeeball and isn’t bowling just like skeeball but... bigger? Additionally, Billy is anything if not competitive.

Steve is stifling his giggles while Billy stands there trying to just figure out how to hold the ball, eventually figuring it out and setting himself straight in front of the lane, mailing one swing of the arm only for the ball to refuse to come unreleased from his fingers. He’s lucky he didn’t break any. Steve can’t help but laugh as he watches the display from the comfort of his seat and his strike on the scoreboard.

“You need help over there baby?” Steve asks.

“Fuck off I’m fine”

Steve puts his hands up and backs off and continues to enjoy the free entertainment that Billy is giving him.

On his second attempt, Billy actually manages to throw the ball... directly into the gutter.

“I can ask them to put the bumpers up for you babe.”

Billy just turns around and gives Steve a pinching gesture signifying he is “this close” to breaking his fucking neck.

Instead of letting Billy embarrass himself once more, and after the novelty had kind of worn off, Steve gets up to where Billy is standing waiting for the machine to cough the blue eleven pounder back up.

“Let me show you how to do it.” Steve says, picking up the ball as soon as it comes in and wrapping his arms around Billy’s waist. He shows Billy how to position his fingers and lines him up about eight feet back. “Okay, so you’re going to want to aim just to the side of the center pin, and you’re gonna want to throw it so it goes fast.”

It’s good, solid advice, but it went directly in one ear and out the other with the way Steve is touching him. Arms tenderly wrapped around his waist, hands gently wrapped around his wrists to guide his hands all while in a public place, and not a single person bats an eye. It’s just a guy teaching another guy how to bowl properly. There’s nobody close enough to see how Steve plants a kiss to his neck or grabs at his ass and it’s just so thrilling.

Steve guides him through the throw, and it’s definitely far from perfect especially considering Steve isn’t left handed like Billy is, but it actually knocks down some pins instead of finding a home in the gutter. The echo of the pins toppling over is fucking music to his ears and Steve’s arms are still wrapped around him, practically hugging him at this point and Billy just leans into it. Loving the feeling of being public about their relationship without being public about it.

They stand there for as long as they can without it seeming suspicious and Steve goes to take his second turn. Billy watched again from the same seat Steve was sitting in and watched Steve bowl a double.

Except he doesn’t actually watch the strike happen, too focused on staring at Steve’s ass through his jeans as he bends over. The way they tighten makes his own jeans tighten for an entirely different reason.

“Your turn.” Steve says.

But Billy has another idea, walking up to Steve and taking him by the wrist, moving his hand so it’s palming his dick.

“I think I’ve had enough bowling for the day.”

And usually Steve would never walk out on a streak like that, but this trip was all about the fun that could be had at the Hawkins bowling alley.

And fucking in the parking lot was certainly fun.

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (3) — Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 3.7k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Terry has given very generic instructions to Frog about how to retrieve her birthday gift. A more then welcome surprise follows. 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None. (Wow. I’m shocked.)

Once more let me thank potter supreme @joheunsaram​ (I’d be wandering in darkness and despair without you. Lob U)

Here is my complete masterlist and in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

“Hello?”

You felt deeply embarrassed venturing into the backyard of a stranger.

“Excuse me? Hello?”

The heavy sound of something slamming against the floor of a garage had you slightly worried. You were ready to run away when the door opened. The neighbourhood wasn’t familiar to you and Terry’s refusal to tell you anything about the specific address she had given you scared you even more.

You feared you’d end up at one of Terry’s friends with benefit’s house.

You changed your mind, however, when you recognised the man standing out of the door.

“Frog? Is that you?”

“Taehyung?” You said, recalling the name of the man. You had met him only a couple days before, spending a good time with his friends while your own had ditched you.

“Hello Frog!” He exclaimed, incredibly happy to see you. “Are you here for a four pm meeting?”

“All I know is that Terry told me to be here by four. She gave me the address but,” you laughed, shaking your head and touching your hair nervously. “She didn’t mention it was you. She didn’t say anything. She only said it was a surprise.”

Taehyung’s laugh exploded suddenly, deep and loud. “That explains many, many things.” He nodded to himself, waiting for you to get closer. “Welcome to my studio,” he said, letting the door open a bit wider.

The space inside was bright and airy, with a wall that resembled a glasshouse, while the others were made of brick and lined with shelves. In a corner you noticed a strange contraption, like an iron cauldron, and an unfamiliar machine close to a basin. There was also a large table all along the glass wall, like it was waiting for plants to be hosted, but none were found.

“With me you’ll learn the humble, raw art of modelling clay.”

You turned to him with a furrowed brow, completely confused. “Clay?”

“Yes. Clay.”

“You model clay?” You asked, giving him an amused look.

“I am an artist,” he stated clearly. “I also model clay but that’s not all I do.”                                                                        

“So that’s my gift? A clay lesson?”

“Ten clay lessons. I’ll make you an intermediate.” Taehyung reached a wooden cabinet, opening it and taking out a large block of clay, grabbing something from his apron and detaching a smaller part before putting the clay back in the cabinet. “But first, let me get you an apron.”

You felt your eyes blink in confusion. “You teach?”

“Art should answer anyone’s calls, in my opinion. I help people learn how to call.”

You were positively impressed. The quiet, if a bit Darcy-esque man, seemed relaxed and talkative in his natural habitat.

Taehyung reached a coat hook on the wall, giving a good look at you before choosing a garment suitable for your height. “This should do,” he said, offering it to you and letting you put it on.

You appreciated the independence he allowed you, allowing you to wear it yourself. You hung your tote on the now free hook and slipped your arms and head into the different loops before closing the tie around your waist in a cute ribbon.

“You'll want to fix your hair before your hands get messy,” Taehyung suggested, watching you carefully get it out of harm's way, since the last thing you wished for was dirt in your hair.

“You didn’t mention you teach art the other night.”

He smiled shyly. “The night you introduced yourself, I remembered I had gift lessons booked under your name. I wanted your birthday surprise to stay a surprise.”

You were entirely endeared at the thought. “That’s very sweet of you!” You exclaimed, watching him collect the piece of clay he had previously cut.

“It’s not a big deal,” he murmured, looking away as his cheeks blushed.

He was eager to watch you learn. He already felt like your hands could have so much potential. He had studied them all night after he met you, watching the sinewy fingers arch and straighten and hold and curve. “Okay, let’s start from a little bit of theory.”

He moved to the table by the window, “Would you mind grabbing a bowl with some water, there?” He pointed to a large utility sink in one of the corners, where you found a bowl and filled it halfway with water.

You made a careful work of walking to the table, placing down the bowl and sighing in relief once you realised you had caused no issues so far.

“Two questions. Have you ever used clay before?”

You snorted and shook your head. “Nope.”

“So you supposedly know nothing about it?”

“Exactly.”

He chuckled and bobbed his head. “That’s okay. All you need to know so far, is that clay is a mineral, and it can have different compositions which make it more or less difficult to model and to cook. I’ll have you use very generic clay, which is suitable for beginners, isn’t too picky about cooking and will look a bit plain, but is also pretty easy to shape. You’ll thank me later.”

You raised your eyebrows and smiled.

“It’s easy to work with, it cooks at low temperature and is also cheap, which will make it better if you ever choose to continue this hobby,” he explained. “It will take a fairly long time for you to master several techniques with this one, so no use spending money on fancy stuff. We’ll keep that for when you’re an upper intermediate. All cool?” He asked, checking in on you with his beautiful, dark eyes.

He had very pretty eyes, you noticed.

“Yes, got that.” You confirmed, startling when he slammed the clay against the table.

“Cool.” He replied with half a grin. “Let’s start from zero.”

Once more he extracted a tool from the pocket of his apron, showing it to you. “This is a wire. You’ll find one in your apron too.”

You rummaged in the pocket and found it. “This will help you with step one — Wait. Lemme start from very very zero.”

He walked back to the cabinet and dragged a block of clay out — the one he’d cut a piece from a few minutes ago. “This is called craft clay or potters’ clay. It’s ready-made and you can buy it in any diy shop. Some artists make their own mix, but let’s start with this since it’s specifically made for learners.”

“It looks very tough,” you commented, testing the small amount he’d cut before, prodding it with your finger.

“It just needs some love,” he explained, pouting sadly. “Clay is so misunderstood. It needs to be firm. But it’s pliable, as long as you treat it appropriately.”

You arched your eyebrows. “I just thought it was softer. Messier, somehow.”

“It is once you wedge it and moisturise it.” Taehyung acknowledged. “Clay contains platelets. Platelets make it solid, but also plastic as long as it’s not dry. Right now you have two enemies. Shape memory and air.”

Taehyung’s hands got on the piece instinctively. “Today I’ll only manage to explain wedging and centering. So be careful and pay attention. If you mess up wedging, your life will get ten times more impossible on the wheel. Let’s start.” He brought the main block back in the cabinet. “That one needs to stay fresh.”

Once at the table he settled beside you. “What’s wedging?” You asked, staring at your piece of clay.

“Wedging is your starting point. As you saw earlier, ready- made clay comes in blocks. Which means square. On the wheel, you’ll always start from a cute soft ball. Which means round.”

Taehyung’s hands massaged the clay for comfort. He felt somehow uneasy at the way he was going to interact with you. “Basically clay holds memory of the shape it was in. You want to erase it to make it more pliable. Like… When an introvert is in their comfort zone for too long and you need to get them back in society and you just… force them in several different social circumstances to warm them up, make them more versatile. More sociable.”

God, he felt ridiculous. He was using his inner turmoil to explain pottery.

He was going to defenestrate himself.

“Okay,” you laughed. “I got the introvert thing. I like the parallel.” You smiled and for a second you thought about all the years you’d been there, shaped like a block to fit inside someone’s life — or to fit them in yours.

You could use some wedging too.

“We usually wedge on plaster, or concrete or wood, because they get the extra water out of the clay. You want it to be a tiny bit humid. But not wet.” Taehyung spread his large hands over the small disk in front of him. “You want to make it more homogeneous. Uniform. For today let’s use the ram’s head method. It’s basically like kneading dough.”

His hair fell over his eyes as he bent down, leaning towards the table. “We have a small amount of clay, since you’re starting. You basically want it to become a thick block first.”

He bent the disk in two, turning it in a thicker, longer rectangle before placing his hands to the opposite sides and pressing, making the clay become more compact.

“Okay, try,” he invited you to do the same.

You mimicked his actions, focusing on the cold, solid feeling of the material under your fingertips.

“Use your palms. Don’t be afraid to get your whole hands on it. You’ll need all your strength.”

You nodded and followed his lead, the cold expanding to your palms, the feeling amplifying beautifully. It was somehow reinvigorating after the initial strangeness.

“Good. Now. Ram’s head.” He inhaled and regained his position. “These,” he said, wiggling his fingers, “and these,” he explained circling his hand around his shoulder. “That’s where you want to focus. All your strength resides there. You won’t feel it right now, but you will once you work with larger pieces.” He steadied himself and placed his palms on the sides of the piece. “Palms on the sides. Your wrists will do all the work. Your thumbs wrap around the top of the piece. The other fingers on the back of the piece. Focus on the wrists. You want to push the clay downwards first, then outwards, to the back of the piece. Okay. Position your hands.”

Taehyung stood straight up, allowing you to see his clay, on top of which he was previously bent over.

“I’m not…” You frowned and tried to feel the clay under your hands, trying to recognise the different sides.

“It’s okay. May I?” He asked, bringing his right hand close to yours.

You nodded, waiting for the contact.

It was chalky, somehow, almost dusty with the way the clay was already drying up, but it still held some cold dampness.

He corrected your fingers, staring at them and giving them a slight twist. “This way your wrists should reach just fine.”

He stood at your side, respecting your personal space even though his hand touched you. The smile on his face was the gentlest, most exciting thing you had felt in a while.

“Okay, mirror it with your left,” he told you as he stepped back, regaining his own space.

“This feels nice,” you admitted, giving the first twist of your wrist.

“Let’s see if you still think so after wedging for twenty minutes,” Taehyung chuckled.

“Twenty minutes!?” You said, already worried.

He giggled and shook his head, his curls brushing against his forehead, which you didn’t notice, because you were too busy focusing on the clay under your hands.

“Ten, usually. Twenty if you need very pliable clay. Like if you’re doing hand-building. But we can use something a bit rougher.” Taehyung helped you get out of the position your clay body was stuck in. “Help it with your fingers. Bring it back, yes,” he encouraged you once the position was right. “And now your wrists. Exactly. Look at you. You’re learning!”

He looked excited when you turned to look at him. He was literally shining with the meek sunlight coming from the window.

“I’m learning!” Your excitement mirrored his own.

“Okay, now, watch. This is why it’s called ram’s head.” Taehyung showed you the spiral on the sides, and the elongated triangle on the front.

“That looks fancy!” You said, feeling curious about the shape.

“Keep going and yours will be just like this!” He spurred you on, making you work harder and faster, which eventually led you to the ruthless burning that possessed your arms afterwards.

With his elbow, Taehyung pointed at your shoulder blade. “Just push your body weight into the clay. The whole motion should mimic a wave,” he showed you how. “If your hands are positioned right, you only need to lean in to wedge— Just. Like. That! Good job, Frog!”

You smiled and went on, paying attention to his corrections, and his gentle advice, enjoying the gentleness with which his pinkie finger pointed to a specific direction, or a finger that was in the wrong position, realigning it.

“Nice! Now, tuck the corners in in a cute fluffy ball. See how soft and warm and round it feels now?”

You nodded enthusiastically. There was something in menial tasks that always made you happy with yourself. Seeing the results of your efforts and hard work always made you feel accomplished, productive.

And it’s been a while since you felt that rush, except for seeing an organised shelf in your shop, with books neatly aligned and rated.

“Okay. I’ll show you how to work the wheel. We got little time left, so maybe I can show you the groundwork and then you can toy around with the body I centred, so you can get familiar with the feeling.”

You agreed.

Taehyung gave a few more twists to your clay body and brought it to the wheel. “Okay. Here we go. Forget Ghost, this thing is a lot more difficult than that. And forget all that water. Too messy. Bowl?” He asked.

Your forehead creased as he pointed to a small stand with a basin. It looked like a short version of a vintage stand for those porcelain bowls used in bedrooms.

You moved it closer to him.

“Thank you,” he smiled and caught the clay body, throwing it on the middle of the turning plate, currently still as he hadn’t yet activated the wheel.

“You can aim for the centre. There’s an indentation to show it. See,” he pointed to the plate. “There are all these circles to show you if you’re actually following the shape.”

He dipped a finger in the bowl, letting the extra water drip down, until it was just slightly damp. “You run around the base to seal it. That way you don’t need to slam it down and you don’t risk watching it unstick and mess around with you.”

“Okay. Great!”

“Now. Position is very important. With your legs you hold the holster and the wheel. Don’t worry about getting too close. Check three things. Knees around the wheel. Elbows braced on your thighs — that will stabilise you. And your torso leans forward. Not angled but perpendicular to the wheel. You need to be right on top of it, so your weight sinks down. Not across.” He showed you the correct position, his lean frame protecting the ball of clay like a hen defends her chicks.

Watching him become so tactile and connected with the material under his hands was endearing, but also fascinating, especially with the way his hands wrapped around the body.

“Okay, let me centre it for you, then you can try. It’s a procedure that can go back and forth, so I’ll have you doing this over and over for a few times. It will help you familiarise with it.”

“Thank you,” you replied, watching his fingers sink in the water. “Now, trick. You wet your hands. Let them drip down just a little, so you don’t drench your piece. If the piece is drenched, the platelets will loosen and the walls of your cup, bowl, vase, whatever will collapse. And we don’t want that, right?”

The way his head snapped towards you with an inquisitive look made you shake your head and reply readily, “nope.”

“Exactly. So, we sink our hands in, rest, and— one, two three, drip and—” he moved his hands over the clay body, letting a few tens of droplets fall onto the material. “Nice and wet. Not sodden, of course. We don’t want that, remember?”

You blinked and nodded as his hands started moving.

Taehyung grinned as he noticed your captivated gaze. You were learning. You were curious, interested, completely amazed. It was the most satisfying look he had ever seen. “This is your treasure now. You curl yourself around it and protect it. Like a dragon hoards its gold.”

He leaned down into the piece, his foot looking for the pedal and pressing it down very, very delicately.

“Your pinkies and ring fingers are doing all the work right now. They seal around the base, reinforcing the sealing we did before. Once you gave enough spins around the base — oh, feel the plate with the side of your pinkie and palm!” He reminded himself, showing you the part of his hand and securing it around the wheel once more. He corrected his position. “You will feel the clay push you up. That’s when your palms close in. You want to make sure it goes up.”

The wheel suddenly stopped and Taehyung showed you the result. “See. Cute mushroom shape. A two inch stem, and then the round hat.”

You bent down to check and studied the way the table started spinning slowly again, showing you the consistent shape.

“More water. Same technique.” He repeated the dip-drip process. “Now. Pinkies stay in. Lots of pressure. And your palms are going to push the hat of the mushroom up. You want it to turn into a cone. So once the hat disappears, you’re gonna keep your hands steady, with a lot of pressure, and drag them up, slowly. And bend them inwards slightly, into a tip.” He followed the process with his hands, his fingers steady and his veins thicker at the effort and the pressure. The way his elbows braced against his hands brought even more blood to the back of his palms.

Still, you didn’t let that cloud your focus. You stared at the process, especially once he stopped the wheel and took his hands off.

“Now we’re bringing it downwards with the thumbs. We’re helping it regain the center. This,” he prodded the ball of his thumb, the soft part where the finger could sink, “is the part that gains the centre. You push it down, while your fingers lean over. Like you’re projecting energy from your palms.” He finished showing the procedure, showing how the ball of clay was a perfectly round dome, placed in the exact middle of the wheel.

“Now you take the lead!” He turned to you with a grin.

With a shy blush you watched him stand up and gesture to the seat elegantly.

You settled down and fixed your position around the wheel, following the instructions he had given you previously.

“That’s nice. Closer.” He corrected you helping your seat closer to the holster of the wheel.

“Now we’re ready to go. Wet your hands—” he directed you, helping you count the dip and drip. “Steady.”

You placed your pinkies tightly around the base, feeling the dome a bit too large for your hands. That’s because it was shaped for his large hands.

“Yes. Steady,” he encouraged you. “Go.”

The taglist is open!

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

[going-fancognito]

“What if the Champions kept trying to confess their feelings, but the reader is oblivious af to their attempts?”

Lol this was really fun to write. Unfortunately I don’t really know how to write Daruk in a romantic relationship, so I left him out of this one. Hope that’s ok.  Remember, my ask box is open if y’all have any requests :)

Revali:

Is practically tearing his feathers out in frustration

It’s been months

He wasn’t even being subtle about it

Busts out the cheesiest pick-up lines he can think of

Even invites you on a trip aboard Vah Medoh

(Normally he’d have an arrow ready for whatever fool so much as breathed near his divine beast)

But whenever anybody asks about your relationship with him?

“Oh no, Revali’s just a good friend.” 

ASDFGHJK-

Please figure it out soon, he’s gonna go mad at this rate

Mipha:

Like with her crush on Link, she has trouble expressing her feelings

Precious girl is a bit shy about it

(She’s the original Paya guys)

One day, she approaches you with her handmade Zora armour 

Unfortunately, no ones informed you about Zora customs, so you just assume it’s a gift

“Wow thanks Mipha, this is great! I’ve been meaning to buy new armour for awhile now.”

Poor girls a blushing mess

Later, one of the other Zoras will recognize the princess’ handiwork, and fills you in on the meaning

What you decide to do with the info is up to you ;)

Urbosa:

Is the most patient of the group

Urbosa’s in no hurry to advance your relationship

She just enjoys the time you spend together

However, there are still moments that flew right over your head

Like the lingering touches around your waist whenever you guys went sandseal-surfing together 

Or the days you’d lose track of time, and end up spending the night at her place to avoid the sandstorms

Sleepovers were innocent and you both just spent the entire time conversing over anything and everything that came to mind

If you were a guy, she’d disguise you as a Vai and sneak you in for the night

“Can’t let my favourite Voe get their cute face lost in the desert, can I?”

(dang, she’s smooth)

Take notes Revali 

Don’t even think of trying to enter Gerudo town in disguise on your own though

(Crush or not, Urbosa will drop-kick your ass into Death Mountain if you try sneaking into town without her permission)

Eventually, she will confess how she feels about you

Is very straightforward about it, leaves nothing to misinterpret

Afterwards, sleepovers together might be become less innocent ;)

*cue the sexy saxophone music*

Link:

Is more of a shower then a teller

So any attempt he makes is probably done through actions

Needless to say, that plan blows up in his face

Flowers? “Oh thanks Link, my neighbours’ been looking for something to brighten her house up”

Jewlery he picked up from Gerudo town? “Is this ‘cause I mended your tunic last week? You know you don’t need to pay me back or anything.”

A kiss on your hand? “Lol, Hyrule Castles’ etiquette must be rubbing off on you Link, is that how they greet people over there?”

Look him in the eyes, you can probably see him internally screaming

Eventually, he comes up with a plan that’s absolutely foolproof

The two of you first bonded over a shared love for food

So food is how he’ll get through to you

He invites you over for dinner one night and you have to stop yourself from drooling when you arrive

Link was one of the best cooks you know, and today is no exception

Soon he approaches you with two bowls and you start to dig in, until you notice what tonights dish was

“Uh Link, is this creamy heart soup?” He barely looks up from his bowl and gives you a quick nod

You cheeks grew warm “Heh, interesting choice. Uh, you probably forgot, but some Hylians consider this a couples meal. Like, you're only supposed to eat this with your lover?”

Link puts down his now empty bowl and looks you straight in the eyes.

He nods. Yeah, he knew already.

Now you were confused. “Wait, then why did you-oh.”

OH.

Wow. Is it just you, or was the room getting really hot?

Link grabs your bowl and cleans up while you continue to process this new information

You’re still quiet when he later escorts you home, and now Links’s starting to get nervous

Maybe he came on too strong? Should he have been more subtle about it? Oh Hylia, what if you began to avoid him after this?

On the outside, he’s totally cool. Inside? The boy is now a screaming ball of anxiety.

His worries are soon put to rest however, once you arrive at your doorstep

Still red-faced, you manage to give him a quick peck on the cheek before stuttering out a “goodnight” and ducking inside your home for the night

It takes a moment for Links brain to reboot

He places a hand over where you had just kissed him a moment ago, then lets out the goofiest grin

Looks like the way to your heart really was through your stomach

(Yeah good job Link, now the reader’s just hungry for you)

Bonus

Sidon:

SURPRISE!

You’re the one who actually confesses this time

Sidon’s a pretty friendly guy in general, but he acted especially affectionate towards you, since you were close friends

Whether it was holding you're hand or placing his arm around your shoulder while strolling through Zoras domain, you both were always touching in some form or manner

With all time you spent together, it’s no surprise that you fall hard and fast for the Zora prince

Plus, who can resist that fine piece of hot shark man

When you finally tell him, Sidon responds with his usual grin (God that smile of his I'm dying-)

“Thank you Y/N, I’m always overjoyed to hear you say so.”

“No-” you stammered, “No Sidon, I mean I like you, as more than a friend.”

His smile turned a bit bemused. “Um, alright? Thank you Y/N, I also like you as well.”

He wasn’t getting it. “No Sidon, I mean romantically. Like, as in I was hoping you might like to go out on a date?”

Cue confused shark boi

“But, are we not already dating?

Wait, what?

[Sidon used uno-reverse card]

[reader was now inflicted with confusion]

Turns out, with how you both acted with each other, Sidon assumed you both just naturally fell into a relationship. 

Basically, he thought you guys were a couple this whole time

He just forgot to do the whole, “confessing to you” part

Looks like you’re not the only one who’s oblivious

You’re a match made in heaven 

[lightsupinthenorth]

Harringrove teachers AU part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 

Thank you to everyone who read, liked and/or reblogged the previous parts. Also, the people who said something nice in the tags or in reactions own my heart. Just thought you should know ;) <3 

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume​, @marianaosborne​, @liglitterbug​, @hmg621 @spreckle @goldenweatherharringrove @yikesharringrove @yogurtfordinner @wingedbears @charlotte-frey @hargrovesharrington​

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

I hope the tags are working because I recently had some trouble with them (ah, Tumblr is a mess). 

I was planning on keeping the chapters short but every part has been longer than the last so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (then again, it’s still pretty short so I guess it’s fine ^^). 

I’ll stop rambling now.

*

Billy didn’t know how he had ended up in this situation, this situation being Steve and he making out in the otherwise empty teachers’ lounge, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He wanted to keep Steve’s soft lips on his forever. Sadly, he didn’t get his way: there was a loud bang, and suddenly Steve’s lips were gone. Steve was gone too, as well as the teachers’ lounge. Billy woke up at home, in his bed, hard as a rock in the basket-ball shorts he was wearing as pajamas.

Great, he got an erection just from dreaming he and Steve were kissing. What was he? A teenager? That was pathetic.

Billy was considering rubbing one out, despite the embarrassment, but there was another loud bang that made him remember why he had woken up in the first place.

What the fuck was happening this early on a Saturday?

Billy instantly worried Max had fallen or, worse, that someone had broken into the flat and would hurt her (highly improbable in such a small town, but Billy wasn’t alert enough to be logical). The concern killed his arousal in two seconds tops. He shot up from bed and exited his bedroom in a hurry.

He found Max in their open kitchen, mixing what appeared to be pancakes ingredients.

“What was that noise?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.  

“I dropped the pan. Sorry.”

“There were two noises.”

“I dropped the mixing bowl too. Let me live! It’s your fault, you stored both these things on the highest shelf” Max complained.

“Hey, no need for a defense, I’m not accusing you. I was just worried, shitbird.”

“Oh… well, I’m okay.”

“And you’re making pancakes, so I’m certainly not going to complain.” Billy added.

“Who told you I was making some for you?”

Billy pouted, even though he knew Max was bluffing. He could see the amount of batter in the mixing bowl. She had quite an appetite, but there was no way she’d be able to eat all of that on her own.

“So mean, so early in the morning.”

“What can I say, I love messing with you.”  

Paradoxically, Billy was happy that she did. When they had first met, he’d been a perpetually angry teenager, and teeny tiny Max had done everything she could to stay out of his way. Once Susan had announced she was ill, though, Billy had tried his hardest to be the brother Max deserved. After Susan’s death, Billy had looked after Max and kept her safe from his father until he had turned legal. He had then fought to get Max away from Neil and had obtained full custody of her.  

It had been hard to balance getting his degree, working part-time jobs, and taking care of Max. Even more so with Neil trying to steer trouble every now and again. But they had made it out alright, in the hand, and Billy didn’t regret a second of it.

“Sit your ass down.” Max said as she turned the stove on.

“Oh no, no way. You ‘sit your ass down’. I’ll take it from here.”

Max was good at finding the best recipes and at mixing ingredients, but the cooking process was another thing entirely: she had nearly burned the kitchen down almost every time she had tried using the oven or the stove. Her cooking privileges had been revoked after the fifth time.

“Ugh, fine.”

Billy had two plates full on pancakes in no time. He put one in front of Max and went to sit down with his own on the other side of the table. The second his ass touched his chair, Max asked:

“So, you have plans with Steve and Robin this afternoon?”

Billy frowned.

“First of all, it’s Mrs. Buckley and Mr. Harrington for you”, he started, just to get on her nerves (he didn’t give a fuck how she called her teachers), “and second, how do you know that?”

Max arched an eyebrow.

“You literally talked about it with Steve right in front of me yesterday”, she said, ignoring Billy’s reprimand (no surprise, there).

“Oh… right… I did.”

Truthfully, Billy had stopped paying attention to Max and El the second he had laid eyes on Steve and the dumb spot of blue paint that had been resting on his cheek as if it had any right to.

“So, what are you guys going to do?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going to grade papers.”

“Well, that’s exciting.”

Her sarcasm was off the charts.

“Tell me about it”, Billy mumbled, around a mouthful of pancake.

“Ew, gross.”

Billy stuffed even more pancake into his mouth, in defiance, before he spoke again:

“So, Art club, uh? What’s up with that?”

They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk about it the day before, because Friday night was movie night, and they had eaten dinner in front of the tv. Plus, Billy would have been too distracted to hold a conversation (Steve hadn’t left his mind).

“Steve said I should come. He noticed I haven’t been speaking to a lot of people, and he said it might help to do an activity in a smaller group…” Max wasn’t looking at Billy as she explained.

“Anyway, I think he was right. He’s the best!” She beamed as she said it, finally looking up from her slowly but surely diminishing pile of pancakes.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Billy was glad, really. He was also a bit frustrated that Steve had managed to talk to Max about making friends, when Billy hadn’t known how to bring it up without offending her, but he wasn’t petty enough to show he had a problem with it. Even if Max calling Steve “the best” was treason of the highest order, Billy just wanted her to be happy. If Steve’s intervention helped more than Billy himself could, then so be it.

They finished breakfast, got ready for the day and then went grocery shopping. As they got back to the flat, Max went to her room to chill, and Billy read for a while before he started preparing lunch. Keeping busy distracted him from thinking about seeing Steve in the afternoon. Well, he didn’t think about it too much, at least.

-

When Billy made his way into the coffee shop, Steve and Robin were already seated, talking animatedly… in another language.

“Hi. Was that Italian?”

They must not have noticed him approaching, because as soon as he greeted them, they stopped talking, and Steve looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey Billy”, Robin said, “as a matter of fact, it was.”

“Don’t you teach French and Spanish?”

Billy was perplexed.

“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t speak Italian.”

“It figures”, Billy shrugged.

He wanted to ask Steve where he had learnt Italian, because it intrigued him. However, he chose not to. He didn’t want to talk to him unless it was necessary. It’d be better for everyone if they had the bare minimum of interactions together, surely.

“Are these new piercings?” Robin asked, gesturing toward his ears.

“Uh, no. I’ve had them for a long time. I just don’t wear them at school.”

“Well, you should. They look really cool, and I’m sure no one would have anything to say about it.”

Billy stared at Steve pointedly, but Steve looked away as soon as he caught his gaze.

“I’ll think about it.” Billy finally said.

Steve and Robin already had their orders, so Billy took his wallet from his bag and went to the counter. He glanced at the display case and eyed the cherry pie with envy, but decided against it. After this morning’s pancakes, it wouldn’t be reasonable. Plus, he hadn’t hit the gym in a few days. He had to start indulging less if he wanted to stay in shape. He went for a simple black coffee. As the burly man behind the counter, whom Billy guessed to be Benny, asked him if he wanted anything else, Billy nearly surrendered, but he powered through. He handed Benny a ten-dollar bill and put the change he was given in one of his pockets.

When Billy went back to their table with his cup of coffee, Steve was blowing on his cup of steaming hot tea. Billy’s eyes caught on the ‘o’ shape of Steve’s lips, which reminded him of his dream. He averted his eyes, praying to God he wasn’t blushing, now that he couldn’t hide it behind his tan anymore (screw Hawkins, Indiana).

As Billy sat down, he noticed Steve had a piece of the pie he’d been eyeing. Not fair. He nearly started pouting but caught himself. After all, his pie-less state was his own fault. Why did he have to be reasonable?

Billy took his pen and the essays he had to grade out of his backpack to give himself something to focus on. But then Steve started eating. And he moaned. Quite obscenely.

“Mh, this is so good. Benny is a magician. You guys want a bite?”

Billy really wanted to say yes, not only because he wanted pie, but because Steve was the one offering. It would have been weird, though? Right?

“No thanks” he ended up saying. What a hard thing to say.

Robin had no such qualms. She needn’t have, since she and Steve were actually friends. Not only did she get to experience Steve warmth and kindness, she also got a bite of his pie. Did she even know how lucky she was?

Billy got into his grading. And he was already past the no-pouting stage of the afternoon. It sucked to be him, sometimes.

“You should probably wait for Steve to finish eating… and drinking too, to be honest, before you put your students’ paper on the table. That man is a disaster.”

Billy had to admit Robin was right. He ate lunch with Steve on a regular basis, and had therefore seen him spill a bunch of things on himself. Thankfully, nothing he had ever spilled had reached Billy, so they were probably safe.

“Oh come on! We’re on opposite ends of the table.” Steve objected.

“I know, but I’m sure you’d find a way.”

Steve scoffed but didn’t try to argue his case any further. He looked adorably ruffled when Robin laughed at his expanse.

They didn’t say anything more for a while, as they were finally doing what they had come here to do. At some point, though, Robin brought up a point one of her students had made about the French translation of “Newspeak” in George Orwell’s 1984, which led her and Billy to launch a discussion about the novel.

Steve offered no input whatsoever, but he had stopped grading and had been staring at them for five minutes straight.

It was making Billy’s skin itch.

At some point, he couldn’t take it anymore and asked:

“What’s your opinion Steve?”

“Uh… I… I don’t really have one.” He stammered, caught off guard.

“How come?”

“I, uh, I haven’t actually read the book.”

“Oh. Well, you should. It’s an amazing book.”

Steve fidgeted with his red pen, repeatedly taking the cap off and then putting it back on.

“Uh… I don’t know about that. It’s not really my thing.”

“How can you know it’s not your thing if you haven’t read it?” Billy asked, a tad defensively.

“I didn’t mean the book… I meant, reading.”

Steve bit his lower lip.

“Why not? Is that beneath a math buff such as yourself, or something?” Billy’s tone had become hostile.

And, by pulling accusations out of his ass like that, he had gone from defensive to straight up aggressive.

“No. ‘course not… It’s just… reading is hard for me… I’m, uh… I’m dyslexic, so…” Steve trailed off, looking down at the pen he was seemingly holding in a vice grip.

Billy was speechless with shame and regret, as Steve offered a wobbly smile and said: “I’m gonna… go get some more tea”, before leaving the table.

Billy stared at his retreating form before he turned to Robin and found her glaring at him. If he could have felt worse than he already did, he would have.

“So… should I go apologize right now or should I leave him alone and apologize later?”

Teenage Billy would have probably not apologized at all, but present-time Billy knew better. He felt like the biggest jerk.

“I’d say, go for it.”

Billy followed Robin’s advice and, with knots in his stomach, he went to Steve, who was waiting for his tea behind the counter.

“Steve, man… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” Steve said, but his eyes didn’t leave his own shoes.

That wouldn’t do. Billy had made Steve feel shitty, and he would make it better if it were the last thing he did.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Billy had let his frustration with Steve get the better of him, and that was unacceptable. Steve was not particularly nice to him, so what? It wasn’t a reason to be outright mean to the guy.

“Really, it’s no big deal… It’s not like it’s a secret… my dyslexia, I mean.”

“Yeah, but you obviously didn’t want to share this piece of info with me, and I should have dropped it.”

“I just… I was afraid you’d find me stupid… But you probably thought I was stupid already, anyway… what with me never having anything interesting to say when Robin and you talk about literature.”

“Hey, I don’t…”

Benny placed Steve’s cup of tea on the counter, cutting Billy mid-sentence.

“It’s on me”, Billy said, fishing his five-dollar bill of change out of his jean’s back pocket and handing it to Benny.

“You didn’t have to.”

Was Steve blushing or was it a trick of the light?

“I want to make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for, but thanks.”

Steve grabbed his cup of tea and was going to go back to their table, but Billy held him back.

“Wait… I want you to know I don’t find you stupid, okay? I know I’m kind of a jackass, but not enough of one to actually think dyslexic people are stupid.”

“Good to know”, Steve replied.

“So, are we good?”

“I told you, we are.” Steve assured, smiling brighter than he had ever smiled at Billy before.

The knots in Billy’s stomach loosened, and his heart filled with warmth. So that was how it felt, when Steve’s sunshine fell upon you? Billy couldn’t wait to experience that feeling again.

“We should get back to Robin.”

“We should” Billy echoed, before following Steve, awestruck.

[sometimesiwrite]

Sick of This

 A/N: Modern AU inspired by a random piece of dialogue from TW2 (Roche’s Path) in Vergen when Geralt and Zoltan speak with Yarpen and Burdon (I think). We hear a story about how Geralt took care of Triss while they were travelling together and she had a horrendous illness. I’m working with hybrids of these characters, but primarily drawing on game dynamics with a bit of book influence for Yennefer and some Netflix influence for Triss. 

Summary: Geralt and Yennefer are in town for a an important political dinner when Geralt learns that their friend, Triss is down for the count with a terrible stomach flu. With some time to spare, he visits her, intending to stay a short while, but her condition worsens to the point where Geralt feels he can’t leave. Internal and inter-personal conflict arises as Geralt vies to skip dinner in favour of caring for a friend in need. tl;dr: Going through a relationship rough-patch (again) and realizing you might have feelings for a close friend makes for a difficult night.

Characters/pairings: Geralt x Triss; Geralt x Yennefer; Yennefer x Istrid; Jaskier

Warnings: Infidelity, verbal abuse/toxic partnership, detailed descriptions of vomiting/severe nausea/stomach pain.

MASTERLIST

Triss looked down at the illuminated screen of her phone: “In town for a few days,” the text read. “Long story. Yen has a work thing. Anyway, let me know if you want to grab a drink.” The number didn’t belong to a name in her contacts—but then again, Geralt’s number never did. Every few months, he’d get a new pay-as-you-go so that old clients wouldn’t try to contract him under the table. It only took two calls from the same tight-assed, penny-pinching hypocrites who’d tried to low-ball him on his first case to make him realize an ever-changing phone number was a good idea. So: burner phones. As a nice added bonus, it made it harder for the Redanian Secret Service to keep tabs on him which meant a little more… investigative freedom when push came to shove. The few people he ever contacted regularly—Triss, Yennefer, Eskel, Lambert, Jaskier (Vesemir didn’t text)—never bothered putting his number in their contacts. By the time they got around to updating his number, he was changing it within a few weeks anyway. Besides, he insisted it was safer for all of them if they didn’t have his name in their phones in the first place. By now, everyone knew that if they got a text from an unknown number, there was a 99.9% chance it was Geralt. 

The toilet gurgled as Triss returned to the sofa with a groan, scrunching her knees up against the pain in her stomach. She checked her phone again: “Only if you’re free, I know Foltest keeps you pretty busy…” She rolled her eyes and replied, “Thanks, Ger. Ordinarily, I could use one right about now, but I’m feeling pretty sick. Think I should stay home </3” She smiled weakly as the text fwiipped its way up the screen. Too bad she was laid up. Would’ve been nice to see him. Her friends always said he was too grumpy and moody to be any fun, but Triss always thought of him as being quite mellow and calming to be around. He never imposed expectations on their time together, unlike her other friends who were always scheming, gossiping, or bitching about their bosses. Just easy conversation and a few good laughs as they caught up on the past few months or years or however long it had been since they last saw each other. 

She checked her phone again and fired off a few brief “not today, babes, sorry, I’m just so sick” texts before her mouth started watering again and she headed into the bathroom: a routine by this point. A few girlfriends had offered to keep her company with rom coms and ginger tea, but she was already feeling so exhausted and it was only 1pm. Besides, Triss wasn’t sure she was prepared for anyone other than her cat (who was hiding under the bed) to see her like this: tawny cheeks flushed with fever, tight brown curls haphazardly bunned on top of her head in a pragmatic attempt to keep them out of the toilet and away from her face, frizzy ringlets falling loose down the back of her neck… and she was acutely aware that she smelled of sickness. Her body’s best attempt to rebalance itself meant that her underarms would overpower even her best deodorant. IF, that is, she cared enough to put any on which she Did Not. She was also, like any sensible woman in her current state, not wearing a bra. 

Nope. Today was a day of horrendousness. Her phone pinged. “You need anything?” 

“A new body might be nice. If you happen to see one that would suit me… 😝” 

The fwoop! came in before her screen went dark: “LOL, I’ll see what I can find. Any preferences?” 

Triss smiled despite the pain in her stomach. “Hmmm I did always want to be a physiotherapist. Oooh! Or a gymnast!” Fwiip!

Fwoop! “Still at your same place? I can send it by courrier. Should get there before 3:00”

Triss was trying hard to come up with a witty enough comeback, but her head was starting to ache. Hmmm. Yes, body, I would love to hydrate you, but you keep rejecting everything I put inside you. “Ugh,” she groaned again and made her way to the toilet. When she got back a few fruitless minutes later, she checked her phone again. Nothing. She just replied, “Thanks, Ger. BRB, going to go die now. When the courier gets here, just tell him to transfer my soul into the new body. I’ll leave it under the Welcome mat.” The TV flipped on as its owner began the endless Netflix Scroll of Indecision. She finally settled on Blue Planet for the 50th time hoping that slow-moving sea blobs would be soothing in some way. 

It didn’t. Another excruciating hour of bathroom visits every ten-to-fifteen-minutes had her googling ‘pressure points to relieve nausea’ by 2:30. She had just pinched a spot on her wrist between her thumb and forefinger when she heard a soft knock on her door. “Ugh, no, GO AWAY! LEAVE ME TO DIE IN PEACE!” she called out from her nest on the sofa. It was too late. The she heard the door brush against the spongy beige carpet as someone poked their head inside, “Triss?” It was Geralt.  

“Oh gods, no, Geralt, stay back, save yourself!”

He gave a low chuckle and Triss already felt a little better. How does he always manage to do that?  “I don’t have a new body for you, but I might have the next best thing. Permission to enter?” 

Triss let out a rueful groan, “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She heard him step in quietly and toe off his shoes as the door closed. A second later, he came around the corner with a Rexall bag in hand. He’d been to a barber recently, and his silvery hair was looking more stylish than usual—cut shorter on the sides and stylishly swept back from his face. Paired with his dark-teal flannel shirt and grey denim jeans, Triss thought he looked unusually striking. 

Geralt tilted his head sympathetically at the sight before him. Triss was bundled on the sofa in an oversized sleep shirt and sweatpants, fuzzy socks bunched around her ankles, and what looked like any and all home remedies gathered around her: hot water bottle, cold pack, three mugs of tea (ginger, peppermint, and chamomile by the smell of them), a glass of ice water, a barely-touched bowl of chicken broth, a mangled bag of oyster crackers, and a thermometer. 

“You’re really down for the count, huh? Got a fever?” before she could object, the back of Geralt’s hand was on her forehead. It felt cool and refreshing against the dry heat of her face as he assessed her condition. “Meh. Could be better, could be worse.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Triss retorted with a halfhearted smile. “Ugh… sorry, um, I have to…” she pointed towards the bathroom and Geralt raised his hands (‘say no more’) as his friend scuttled exhaustedly around the corner. He busied himself with watching manta rays gliding through the open ocean until he heard the toilet flush and Triss emerged again, looking ragged and a little sheepish. “Sorry,” she said, pouring herself back onto her nest of blankets and stuffed animals. 

Geralt shrugged, “No need to be, you’re sick. Here,” he reached into the pharmacy bag and brought out a box of ginger Gravol tablets and a medium-sized bottle of Cherry Punch Pedialyte—she was allergic to most over-the-counter cold and flu medication.

“Geralt, you didn’t have to do all this for me. How did you even know I had the stomach flu?”

He looked over her shoulder at her laptop which was still open to the page of various nausea-relieving pressure points, “Hm. You should have this stuff around anyway,” he paused as Triss swallowed heavily and went to the bathroom again. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to take care of herself, her mother had been a nurse practitioner for heaven’s sake. Still, Geralt was never one to leave a friend in need if there was something he could do about it. A particularly visceral sound drew him from where he was perched on the arm of the sofa. Triss was crouched on the bathroom floor, shivering with her forehead resting on her elbows over the toilet bowl. She spat. Geralt sat on the edge of the bathtub. “How long has it been like this?”

“Since about... 10am,” she managed to get out before her entire body heaved. Geralt instinctively reached out to place a hand on her back. She didn’t object. She never objected to these little shows of affection from Geralt. There was always something reassuring about them, and it felt particularly nice to be reminded that she wasn’t alone just now.

Geralt rubbed slow circles across her back as he coaxed her through retching and dry heaves. “You know you could've just asked.”

“I know but—”

“Stubborn?”

“Uh-huh,” Triss admitted, sitting back on her heels and flushing the mostly-empty toilet. “Besides, the last thing you need is to be taking care of a gross friend right before getting ready for a fancy business gala.

“You clearly don’t know just how little I’m looking forward to this evening,” Geralt grumbled, passing Triss a cool glass of water to rinse with. 

“Not looking forward to talking the talk, Mr. Slick P.I.?” Triss’s eyes gave a twinkle as her freckled cheeks pulled into a cheeky smirk.

Even when she’s a mess she still finds a way to light up. Geralt furrowed his brow at his own thoughts. Where did that come from? “You know how it is, all this high-society stuff, rubbing elbows, laughing at tasteless jokes. It’s just not me. But Yen—well…” he sighed heavily, “I dunno. She’s right in that it’s a good way to get the information we need, stay visible to the right people but… I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. I know she’s your friend.”

Triss raised an eyebrow, “Oh, go on. Trust me, there’s nothing you can say about Yennefer of Vengerberg that will surprise me. Besides, you’re my friend, too.” 

“Hm.” Geralt stared down and fiddled with his crossed thumbs. “Lately I can’t get anything right. I’m always asking the wrong questions, or I’ll try and talk to her about something I want us to work on and it’s never worded the right way and then it just turns into a fight which is what I want to stop doing in the first place. And then I’m either too sensitive or not sensitive enough and… it’s like she has a set of rules inside her head she won’t tell me about. Feels like it’s harder than it should be. But who am I to know?”

“I’m sorry, Geralt. Yennefer can be so unfair sometimes. I don’t think she understands how much she can push against the people she cares about. It’s one thing to be a friend, at least I can take a breather every now and then if I need to. But it’s different for you. You don’t like taking time apart.” Triss offered an apologetic smile before groaning and leaning back over the toilet and Geralt’s hand took up its place on her back again as he worked her through another round. 

Geralt’s phone rang as Triss flushed the toilet. “Sorry, it’s Yen. I should take this. Be right back. Yen? Yeah, I’m with Triss, got a stomach thing, I stopped by to bring her some...” his voice disappeared around the corner as he went into the bedroom. Triss couldn’t make out their whole conversation, but it sounded tense. The phrase, “...just trust me to dress myself, I’m not a—,” came through the drywall. Triss sighed sympathetically. It certainly hadn’t been smooth sailing for the two of them. Geralt had his own flaws and foibles in the romance department—he could be callous and insensitive in favour of honesty at times, and never shied away from pushing buttons—but Yennefer was mercurial, brazen, rash, and brutal; all excellent qualities for a powerful and influential chief advisor. But as much as Geralt was his own handful, she’d never known him to willfully hurt someone he cared about, and was quick to apologize when he did. 

When Geralt came back, Triss was trying to push herself to standing. He caught her as she swayed on her unsteady legs. “Whoa, whoa, Triss, easy. Here, sit back down, wait here for a second.” Triss did as she was told and settled miserably back onto the bathroom floor. Geralt immediately returned with two blankets before disappearing again. A few minutes later, he returned once more with a tea tray on which was balanced Triss’s laptop, a small glass of Pedialyte on the rocks, the pack of gravol, and the box of oyster crackers. 

Triss let out a soft giggle, “What is this?”

“You need to try and get something in you. Might not be pretty at first, but if you don’t get some fluids soon, you’re going to be in bigger trouble.”

“Really. I had no idea. I can take care of myself, you know… sorry that was,” Triss sighed. “It’s been a long day

Geralt hunkered down next to her on the floor on top of a throw pillow, “Hey, I get it. But that’s not why I’m here. Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to. So take this, with a sip of this,” he handed her a blister pack of the Gravol and the glass of Pedialyte, “and let’s see if you can keep it down.” 

“Cherry Punch. How did you know this was my favourite?” Triss could no longer hide the fondness that was welling up despite her unrelenting discomfort and growing exhaustion. Geralt gave a muted smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “How’s Yennefer?”

The lines on Geralt’s face became more pronounced, “She’s… fine.” Triss tilted her head (‘really?’) and Geralt relented, “There’s a chance Istrid will be there tonight.”

“The head of the Archeological Association? I don’t get it, what’s he got to do with you and Yennefer?”

Triss could guess the answer from Geralt’s pause. His words merely confirmed it, “They have history.” 

“You don’t think that Yennefer will—I mean, she wouldn’t—”

“She has. She doesn’t know that I know, but…” Triss’s heart sank. “I don’t know why I’m waiting for her to tell me. Guess I don’t want her to feel like I went out of my way to find her at fault—which I didn’t, by the way. I found out by accident.” 

“I’m sorry, Ger.” The weight of Triss’s head against his shoulder brought Geralt out of his daze and he looked down at the messy updo of mahogany hair. He smiled again, a delicate, private, unconscious thing that sparked from an unconscious uplifting somewhere in the middle of him and pulled the corners of his eyes. He thought about ignoring it, not wanting to have to go digging inside himself for what it meant. Instead he wrapped an arm around Triss’s shoulder and pecked a chaste kiss to the top of her head. 

“How’re you feeling?”

The answer to that question proved complicated. Triss’s spirits were a bit better thanks to Geralt’s stubborn-yet-easygoing caretaking. But the introduction of contents into her contrary stomach was yielding less-than-desirable consequences. Painful cramps persisted between more frequent bouts of vomiting—which by this point was mostly dry-heaves followed by the occasional expulsion of bile. Meanwhile it was 5:30 and Geralt’s phone beeped a notification. He checkecked the screen with one hand while he soothed Triss with the other: Where are you??? Yen. Who else could it be? He’d have to call her.

“Geralt, go! Really, I’ll be fine I promise. You’ve got to rub elbows and laugh at bad jokes, remember?” Triss propped herself up on wobbly elbows over the toilet bowl, not trusting the wave to be over. 

Geralt was already dialling. Triss heard the faint echo of her friend’s voice on the other line as she answered with, ‘Where the HELL are you?’ 

“I’m still with Triss, Yen. Things aren’t looking good here, she’s just gotten worse. If I can’t—Yen, listen if she doesn’t—if she doesn’t get any fluids in her I’ll need to take her to the hospital.” Geralt pulled an apologetic face and Triss gave him a reassuring wave that she’d be fine if he stepped out for a minute. “Yen, please, I thought we talked about this, please don’t use that tone, it makes me feel…” The conversation continued, though this time in the living room: “I know this is an important night for us to both be there, Yen, you’ve been reminding me for the last month, but I can’t just leave until… what’s that supposed to mean? That’s not—no, hang on, that’s not fair, Yen… Well if you already don’t believe me I don’t—Okay, then you tell me what I’m supposed to say! I’m tired of this, Yennefer, I am so. Exhausted trying to figure out exactly what to say in order for you to not react like this every time I… can I finish?...”

Geralt was pacing back-and-forth now, and Triss could tell from the tone on the other end of the line that Yennefer wasn’t backing down anytime soon, “Geralt, if you don’t leave Triss’s apartment and come back here and get dressed this instant, I swear I will—”

Geralt paused outside the bathroom door for Triss to flash a wilted thumbs-up as she tried to drink more Cherry Punch Pedialyte, “Or you’ll what, Yen? Count to ten and then chuck me in the coi pond? I—you know what?” he moved back into the living room, “No, you know what? How ‘bout this: I’m staying here with our friend who needs help, and you can go to this big event, embarrassment free, and do what you do best without the big idiot holding you back. Whatever needs to get done at this dinner tonight, I bet you’ll do better on your own than worrying about me screwing something up.” 

Triss heard his phone flip shut followed by a heavy sigh before his sock feet padded back into the bathroom. Unfortunately, just then, her suspicions about not being finished proved correct as her mouth, once again, began to water. Thankfully Cherry punch wasn’t nearly as bad coming back up as other flavors were known to be. In less than a second, Geralt was there with a warm hand and a blanket around her shoulders. They didn’t talk much over the next little while as Geralt continued his attempts to soothe Triss’s stomach enough to hold something down. After an hour, Triss finally was able to rest a little, albeit still in quite a bit of pain. But with the toilet no longer an ongoing necessity, the sofa once again became a viable option. Geralt scooped up the blanketed bundle and carried her back into the living room to continue their journey under the sea, complete with cold compress and bendy straw.

By 7:30 Triss hadn’t needed the toilet at all in the last hour, and some of her stomach pain was starting to diminish. However, she was still shivering and achy, and not interested in food. She kept insisting that Geralt had time to meet Yennefer at the gala, that she would be perfectly fine on her own, but Geralt wasn’t convinced. Showing up now would not only put Yennefer in the awkward position of having to save face by not murdering him in cold blood in front of a dozen or more foreign dignitaries, but it would also mean having to face Istrid who, if he wasn’t already, would doubtlessly be very interested to hear Yennefer’s thoughts on a great number of things before the night was over. Geralt didn’t trust himself not to do something he’d regret—or at least that Yennefer would regret.

Another hour in and Triss was starting to perk up: minimal stomach pain, and she was making a decent dent in her Cherry Punch. Geralt decided it was time for a little chicken soup. He made a freezer pizza for himself and cracked a beer while he warmed up a can of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle, ladelling out all the broth into a mug for Triss so she wouldn’t be tempted to eat more than she could handle. Geralt had only one goal for her tonight: keep everything down. If she could do that, then he had at least been able to do something for her. If not… Geralt tried very hard not to listen to the voice that said, ‘then you’re no use for anyone’ in the back of his mind. Thankfully, Triss finished her broth without concern and he didn’t have to worry about that voice for the time being. Instead, he settled a little deeper into the sofa cushions as Triss resumed a comfortable spot against his shoulder. 

After another little while, a miracle happened: Triss started to have fun. That characteristic sparkle came back to her eyes, and the two friends quickly began to actively enjoy their evening. They watched The Fellowship of the Ring and took a drink of beer or Pedialyte every time Frodo had a dramatic closeup, was stabbed, or rolled his eyes for dramatic effect. Geralt microwaved a bag of popcorn, and Triss cautiously had a few oyster crackers as they laughed and caught up. Finally. It may not have been the original vision for what drinks and casual hangs would look like, but it was good. It was nice. Relaxed, and pleasant. Easy. Geralt’s mind wandered as the Fellowship fled the Balrog, and he didn’t notice the little line his thumb was leaving on Triss’s blanket as it traced up and down her shoulder. He also didn’t think twice when she shifted, half-asleep, to lie her head in his lap and his hand moved to the curve of her waist. It wasn’t until he looked down in the direction of soft snoring that he was reminded exactly who was lying in his lap. 

His initial thought was, ‘shit,’ as he slowly removed his hand from her waist, not wanting to wake her, but also not knowing what to do. It was suddenly all so intimate, though he didn’t quite know why. As he watched her, peacefully asleep in his lap, he realized he didn’t want to break away. Didn’t want to wake her to adjust to a more ‘appropriate’ orientation. He touched her shoulder again. That was nice. That felt… nice. She stirred, and Geralt wondered if she was comfortable as he brushed a tight ringlet behind her ear. She smiled in semi-consciousness and his heart sang. This was bad. This was very very bad. He reached for the remote and flicked the tv off. It was after midnight, and high time everyone went to bed. Alone. 

That was the only option. Right? In theory, no. There was another option, and a significant part of Geralt wanted to go with that one, stay in this soft warm place where everything felt easier… where he felt happy. But a louder part of him knew that wasn’t right, wasn’t fair; that even if he was unhappy—even if Yennefer had spent the night with Istrid (Geralt tried not to think about that). The bottom line was Triss felt well enough that he no longer needed to stay with her to make sure she was alright. That was why he’d come. If he stayed for other reasons, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone. End of discussion.

“Triss,” Geralt murmured, rousing her as gently as he could. 

“Hmm?” Her eyes fluttered open to see Geralt staring down at her. She didn’t remember lying down in his lap, but she must have just before she fell asleep. “Did I fall asleep on you?” 

Geralt’s eyes crinkled, “Hm. Yeah. You were pretty out of it.”

“Ah, shit, I’m so sorry!”

“You needed the rest. Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s passed out on me, and you’re significantly easier to deal with than Lambert.”

Triss bunched her blankets around her shoulders and shivered sleepily, “You should go. Yennefer’s probably waiting for you.”

“Hm. Yeah, probably,” Geralt heaved himself off the sofa as Triss released her hair and gathered her nest to head to the bedroom. Geralt waited until she was bundled in bed. “All set?”

A little smile peeked over the tops of the covers, “Mmmhmm, thanks.”

“Need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Goodnight, Ger.”

“Goodnight, Triss,” Geralt flicked off the light. In the entranceway, he paused with his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and left, locking the door behind him and putting the key back in its usual hiding place. Enough now. Done. He was determined that whatever he had felt, whatever warm, unexpected thing had bubbled to the surface, would forever exist behind that locked door, frozen in time. A blip. The important thing was nothing was acted on. Not really. At worst, they wandered into a grey area by accident. These things happen. The key now was not to dwell on it, to move forward. 

Geralt’s stomach soured as he slid his keycard into the slot of room 622. The lock clicked open as the little light on top flashed green and Geralt turned the handle, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. He toggled the dimmer switch next to the door; the lowest setting would give him enough light to get changed without waking up—Yen? The bed was empty, still freshly turned-down, with his pre-approved evening attire laid out as he had suspected. He fucking hated that tie. He put the suit back in the garment bag from whence it came and checked his phone. Nothing. No texts, no missed calls. Might still be out. It wasn’t unusual for these events to turn into afterparties which was where most of the juicy information was gathered. He hit speed-dial. 

“Hi, Jaskier? It’s—yeah, hi. Listen. Are things still going over there? I just—hm? Yeah, she’s doing okay now. Took awhile for me to get anything in her, but no hospital visit so… yeah, she finally got to sleep just as I was heading out, made sure she was hydrated and had a little something… I’m sure she’d appreciate that… Actually, that’s why I’m calling, I just got back and she’s not in, I was wondering if you knew where she…When?…Okay…No, archeology… Mmm no, they’re very different fields. Nevermind, thanks, Jas…Yeah, no it’s, um, I just wanted to make sure that she was okay. Didn’t want to bug her in case she was in the middle of—something. Yeah… Well don’t let me interrupt that. Okay, all the best. Go get ‘em tiger. ‘Night.” 

Geralt tossed his phone on the bed and flopped heavily on top of the duvet and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Goddamnit, Yen.”

__________________

@the-space-between-heartbeats 

@just-a-sad-donut 

@oxenfurt-archives 

@thirstyforred 

@titaniafire 

@belalugosisdead 

@lonelygayz 

@awkward-turtles-world 

@iloveyouyen 

@criminaly-supernatural

@friendlybelladonna

@enkelikauneus 

[words-writ-in-starlight]

prompt: modern MDZS, Wen Qing berating someone as she does DIY bullet removal

Leverage AU, huh?  Sounds like you want to talk about a Leverage AU.  For this H/C ask meme!

“Everything was under control, Wen Qing,” Wei Wuxian says, smiling through clenched teeth.  There’s drying blood gluing his slacks to his skin and sweat beading on his forehead and throat, but his hands don’t tremble as he lowers himself into a chair.  He at least has the good grace to sit at the table, so that she’ll have somewhere to put her supplies.  She’s going to murder him anyway, but it’ll be much more convenient to kill him in a kitchen chair than on the couch.  Wen Qing likes her couch.  She intends to keep it blood-free.

“Clearly it was not,” Wen Qing half-snarls, and she snaps a hairtie around her bun to keep her hair out of her face as she glares down at him.  A quick rummage in her pockets produces several purple exam gloves, liberated from the hospital during a shift and forgotten.  “A-Ning, get me a towel from the kitchen, one of the flour sack ones, and a bowl of warm water, and the shears kit from the junk drawer.  Everyone else, figure yourselves out, I’m not running a daycare.”

A-Ning, who’s always been a good boy even if Wen Qing is taking pains not to know what he does with his time these days, vanishes like a cat into the kitchen.  Mianmian, who has sense, promptly knocks her knuckles against Wei Wuxian’s head and says, “Be good, Yuandao,” before she flops down onto the couch without regard for her regal evening gown and apparently goes to sleep.  Nie Huaisang, who knows when he’s no longer needed, picks his way across the room to Wen Qing’s only armchair, and folds himself up like an origami figure that looks very unlikely in his suit.  

Lan Wangji, who has never done anything convenient in his life, remains standing beside Wei Wuxian’s chair and blinks at Wen Qing.

Wen Qing has no idea why everyone pretends Lan Wangji is completely unreadable.  He couldn’t be clearer if he printed make me move, I dare you on his forehead.  He’s smeared with blood, all down one side from half-carrying Wei Wuxian to her doorstep, and he’s bruising up blue on one cheekbone, and there’s a table knife tucked into the pocket of his suit jacket, bent out of shape into makeshift brass knuckles.  Wen Qing doesn’t really feel like fighting the point just now.

“Fine,” she snaps, “just stay out of my way.  And you,” she adds, pointing at Wei Wuxian.  He cringes a little, because he’s smart.  “We’re going to have a talk.”

“Jiejie,” A-Ning says, reappearing with towels and trauma shears in hand.  She doesn’t twitch when her brother pads up behind her and lays the lot on the table.  Wen Qing is used to her brother drifting around like a ghost, and to his wide-eyed expression of trying to get on her good side.  “Don’t be mad at him.”

“I am very mad at him,” Wen Qing says.  “Bring me the water or I’ll be mad at you too.”  Wei Wuxian snorts out a breathless laugh, and Wen Qing grabs the trauma shears from her tidy pack of tools to shut him up.  “So,” she says, crouching down and briskly cutting up the seam of his pants toward his knee.  “What the fuck happened?”

“Got shot,” Wei Wuxian says, helpfully.

“I can see that,” Wen Qing says, and only barely resists the urge to give his leg a shove and see if that makes him focus up.  She cuts the extra fabric away, straight across the knee crease, and gives a light tug on the rest, just to check if she might be able to get it off immediately.  Wei Wuxian makes a breathy noise, like a swallowed gasp, and she absently touches his calf, a soothing gesture until the trembling eases.  “Can I get a little more detail?  Was it a cop?”

“No!  I’m--I’m just a hacker, people don’t shoot hackers,” Wei Wuxian says with completely false confidence.  “People shoot, I don’t know, cat burglars and hitters.  Lan Zhan’s been shot, right, Lan Zhan?”

“Clearly, people shoot hackers too,” Lan Wangji says flatly.  But then, because he’s weak, he adds, conciliatory, “But yes.  Five times.  It is my job.”

“My brother’s never been shot, right?”  Wen Qing raises her voice at the end, over the rush of water in the other room, and hears a squeak of alarm.

“Uh--that’s right, A-jie!”

“Because I would kill him,” Wen Qing tells Wei Wuxian matter-of-factly.  “And then I would kill his entire team that got him shot.  You understand that, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nie Huaisang confirms from the armchair, because he might be a ruthless son of a bitch when he feels like it, a mastermind whose best game is poker and has the mask to prove it, but he’s also a well-trained younger brother and he’s never once had the guts to fuck with Wen Qing.  “Wen Ning has never been shot.”

“Good,” Wen Qing says forbiddingly.  “Because I don’t ask questions about what you get my brother into,” she continues to Wei Wuxian.  “Just like I didn’t ask questions about how my brother paid for my degree.  But that doesn’t mean you get to show up on my doorstep at eleven on a Saturday night with a bullet hole in your leg, and answer no questions.”

“That’s fair,” Mianmian says, without opening her eyes.  “You have to give her that one, Yuandao.”

A-Ning slips back into the room and puts a metal bowl of warm water on the floor next to Wen Qing’s knee, and then walks into the bathroom, because he’s a good boy and he knows what she’ll need before she can even ask for it.

“This is going to hurt,” she tells Wei Wuxian, quiet and serious.  "Keep talking, it’ll keep you awake.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he complains as she wrings out a cloth until it’s only damp.  “You won’t even let me pass out?  I got shot!  I got shot taking down the CEO of an oil company, by the way, you should--fuck!”

Wen Qing’s free hand locks around Wei Wuxian’s lower leg, a practiced grip to hold him in place as he startles at the pressure on the wound.  “Hold still, and it’ll be quicker.  Tell me about your latest idiot crusade, Wuxian.”

She soaks the blood-stiff cloth until it can be cut away and lets Wei Wuxian’s shaking voice wash over her, barely listening.  Something about an oil spill, and a family whose entire town was crippled when the fishing industry went belly up.  It’s all very idealistic.  It’s all very Wei Wuxian.  They got the guy on camera shooting a civilian, though, which is apparently just icing on Mianmian’s grifter cake of very illegal bank transfers and a burgeoning RICO case.

“Okay,” Wen Qing says, when she’s cut away the rest of Wei Wuxian’s pant leg and exposed the bullet wound--halfway up his outer thigh, blessedly clear of the artery, but clearly a very small caliber, the kind of thing a CEO might be able to get into a benefit without looking excessively paranoid.  Which brings her to...  “Well, this is going to suck a lot,” she says.

“It already sucks a lot,” Wei Wuxian says, and his laugh is a little hysterical.  “What in particular are you thinking about?”

“Next time,” Wen Qing says, carefully dipping her tweezers in rubbing alcohol, “get shot with a bigger gun.”

“Absolutely not.  What?  I’m not getting shot again, and definitely not with a bigger gun, what is wrong with you?”

“This bullet didn’t go all the way through,” Wen Qing says.  “So I’m going to have to take it out.  A-Ning, come here and hold a light.  Lan Wangji, hold him down.”

Wei Wuxian lets out a breath and it trembles, but for all his dramatics, he’s never been a coward.  Once, when Wen Qing was in undergrad and she and her brother were surviving the fallout of the Wen mob going to prison in droves and Wei Wuxian had just been kicked out of the Jiangs, he cut open his palm with a broken glass.  He sat on the floor and let Wen Qing pick shards out of his skin for twenty-five minutes, and joked and teased the entire time.

“Okay,” Wei Wuxian says.  “I’m ready.”

It’s a bad hour, as Wen Qing pulls the bullet from his thigh and then puts two stitches in the hole.  Wei Wuxian doesn’t scream, doesn’t cry, just takes shallow, shuddering breaths and doesn’t move.  Sometimes he even laughs, a ragged sound of apparently genuine amusement when A-Ning wonders aloud if Jiang Yanli is going to kill them before Wen Qing gets the chance, and a bark of vicious humor when Nie Huaisang reports that their target’s been arrested on more fraud charges than you could shake a stick at.

“We’re not telling A-Li,” Wei Wuxian says when Wen Qing finally tapes down gauze and collects her bloodied tools into the emptied water bowl.  “She’ll come look sad at me.”

Wen Qing summarily ignores him.  Instead, she looks at Lan Wangji, who looks nearly as shaken as Wei Wuxian.  He’s not holding him down anymore, but his hands are still resting on those stiff shoulders, a thumb smoothing over the skin at the nape of Wei Wuxian’s neck just above his collar.  Wei Wuxian’s head tips a little toward that side, resting lightly on Lan Wangji’s forearm without apparent concern for the blood on the hitter’s wrist.  Maybe Wei Wuxian’s, maybe whoever got to experience the pleasure of being punched by one of the Twin Jades.  

“Don’t let him do anything stupid,” Wen Qing tells Lan Wangji firmly.  "I can get him antibiotics--you are taking them, Wei Wuxian--but I’m not getting him painkillers, because the second he feels okay he’s going to get A-Ning to teach him to free climb a building or something, and A-Ning is going to do it because I raised him terribly, I guess.”

“Hey,” A-Ning says.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I will keep Wei Ying from doing anything stupid,” Lan Wangji recites obediently, and goes up a few notches in Wen Qing’s estimation.

“We’ll get out of your hair, Qing-jie,” Wei Wuxian says, stirring like he’s going to get up, and Wen Qing stands and sighs and scowls, and peels off her gloves to make a neat little ball of latex in one palm, all the blood concealed inside.

“You can stay here,” she says.  “You can take A-Ning’s room and he’ll sleep on the couch.  Everyone else, you have to get out unless you want to sleep on the floor, though,” she adds, pointing to the two in her living room.

“I will stay,” Lan Wangji says.

“Yeah,” Wen Qing says, already distracted by the odds of being able to find a pharmacy open at this hour.  “A-Ning has a full, you’ll fit.”  Wei Wuxian makes a choking noise, which she ignores.  “I’m going out to get ahold of some meds for you.  Don’t do anything stupid, and lock up if anyone leaves.  A-Ning, don’t let this idiot leave.”

“I won’t, A-jie,” A-Ning says obediently, and Wen Qing stomps into her bedroom to change into something not speckled with blood.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes

Chapter 39:  Villain Hunting

Dove was working for him again. Not happily, but he'd take what he could get. The man had appeared in his shop the morning after he left the message with a grimace on his face that said he'd rather be anywhere else in the world but a stance that suggested he was ready to work. That was convenient for him because he had a job for him. He'd kept Smee overnight, but now he'd overstayed his welcome. He had a plan for letting him go back out into Storybrooke, one that would ensure that if Hook was here and he knew where he was, then he'd find him. But that plan had hinged on the dove before him standing there. How lucky for him that his accomplice knew how to use his brain.

"It's good to have you back in my services, Mr. Dove."

"It's not like I have a choice, as you so kindly reminded me."

That was true. During the Curse this had been Dove's only job, and he, and his family, had profited greatly from it. He could have found another job now that the Curse was broken, but one that would pay as handsomely as he did and come with a rent-free lifestyle for himself and his parents? Doubtful. Very doubtful. So here he was, taking instructions once more. In five minutes, he informed his employee, a man in a red hat would come around the corner of his shop. Dove's job was to follow him for a couple of days. He wanted to know where he was going, who he was seen with, and he especially wanted to know if he was ever seen in the company of a man with a hook for a hand.

Dove agreed for his usual reimbursement and when the man stepped outside he saw him take a step, then fall into the air as a white dove soared away where the man had once been. He'd smirked. Dove wasn't pleased to be back with him, but he imagined that being able to do that again, to fly off in a different body and perch on a roof, certainly worked in his favor.

He released Smee a few moments later. The man was alert but obviously exhausted from a night in his basement. He smelled of sweat and piss and fear as he untied his bonds. "Now you listen to me," he growled menacingly as he worked. "I'm gonna let you go now, and you are going to go tell any of your old friends and crew mates that the girl you tried to take is off-limits. She's under protection of the Dark One. She's not to be touched, harmed, or even gawked at from across the street. Stay clear of her, stay clear of her library. Do we understand each other, Mr. Smee?"

The man had nodded vigorously and the second he motioned toward the open door he was up and out. He ran for his freedom like it might disappear if he wasn't fast enough, but he had no idea that he wasn't free. Not truly. Dove was watching. He was certain of this because twenty minutes after he'd freed him, he received a call from him.

"You want me to follow Barrie Kensington?"

Barrie Kensington…was that who he was here? The name didn't ring a bell, no property leases came to mind, no history. But Dove had said the name so easily…

"You know him?"

"Who doesn't?"

"How do you know him?" he questioned. "What does he do?"

"He gets things," Dove answered as if it was obvious and he should have known, like he was surprised he needed to tell him. "Guy's a mouse, but he's resourceful. Half the time you've wanted me to find you something, it's because I've gotten it from him."

William Smee, procurer of hard to find objects, was Barrie Kensington, also a procurer of hard to find objects. Sometimes he thought the Curse outdid itself.

"Have you ever seen him in the company of a man, tall, one hand?"

"Can't say I have, but he works with damn near everyone, and I've never followed him before."

"Your friend Scarlet, he's known for some of the same things, can you see if he has knowledge of him and a friend he might have with a hook?"

"No can do," he answered. "Scarlet has been missing since the Curse broke, no one has seen him and he's not answering his phone."

Shit. He'd never particularly cared for Scarlet. He had kept him on his payroll during the Mary Margaret situation and he knew that the boy was good for giving information to Dove when he needed him to. He hadn't a clue where he'd disappeared to and he didn't really care. But he did lament not having the information he needed.

"Where is Smee now?"

"Home," the Dove answered. "He went right to his apartment." No surprise there, after a night in his basement he'd probably need to shower, sleep, and eat before he went about his way. He could allow him that concession.

"Stay on him, Mr. Dove. If he meets a man with one hand call me immediately and if he goes anywhere near the library…don't let him get in the front door."

"Fine," he agreed in an unfriendly tone.

"Hm…no 'got it, boss'? Even for old times?"

There was nothing but silence on the other end. It only made him smirk.

"I see you've learned to fly again," he mentioned idly, as if he was trying to initiate chit chat, a habit he never engaged in without reason.

Dove promptly hung up the phone without answering. He chuckled as he put his phone back in his pocket and returned to his own work. He had to admit, he enjoyed people who knew their place in their relationship but refused to accept it, refused to be frightened or scared of him. Those who were weaker standing up to him left him amused and intrigued. Belle had been one of those people; Jefferson and Ruby were like that too. Now it seemed that Dove would be joining their ranks. He was rather looking forward to the entertainment that would bring. He needed entertainment, considering the dull hole not having Belle at home had left in his life.

He hadn't been back there, not to stay, not really. That first night he couldn't bring himself to go when she was in the library, alone and vulnerable. So, he'd stayed in the shop that night and over the course of the next few days he'd begun to make a habit it out of it. During the day he worked in the shop like he normally would, taking calls and text messages from Dove who reported that Smee seemed to be following instructions. The docks, the bowling alley, The Rabbit Hole Bar, Granny's, even the Middle School…Smee paid visits to all of them after he was released, it was the same story each place.

"I don't know what to tell you," Dove informed him on one call. "He goes in, he talks to someone, he leaves, he goes to the next place and does it all over again. So far, no one has had a hook for a hand."

Dove was confused; he saw it with clarity. Smee was simply doing what he'd asked him to do, going to his old crew mates and friends, delivering the warning he'd told them to. He was aware that doing that could potentially put Belle at risk, but he also knew that no one without a substantial amount of power would dare to attack a woman under his protection. With the protection spell he'd placed on the library, he'd know if anyone like that tried anything. Fortunately, few people came and went at the library, and he could feel that no one with power greater than Ruby dared to enter. Belle was safe, but that didn't stop him from spending every night in his pawnshop. Just in case.

It wasn't entirely bad. During the day he could do his usual work and during the nighttime, that was when his real work began. At night his work room transformed into his own little workshop, just like he had in the basement, only he found himself forcing himself to take a break from his spell for the town line. There were other things he needed to do.

Smee's attempt, futile as it had been, had scared him. There were so many, many dangers in this world, so many enemies, he never wanted to be caught off guard again. For the first night, he tried to find as many as he could. He didn't have a crystal ball, but he could pour water into a cauldron, add the proper ingredients, and ask it for images. The first he pulled up, his test image, was of Belle. She was in the library, sitting in a chair with a book in her lap, clearly asleep. She was safe. But only if he could keep her that way.

He tried searching for Hook next, but nothing came into the cauldron. He tried to summon an image of Zelena only to experience the same results…nothing. Smee had said that Hook wasn't here, that he wasn't in this world. That would make sense. The cauldron could only summon images of this world. To test that theory, he requested an image of August Booth. This time the cauldron gave him an image. There he was. A man made of wood, sleeping in a bed located in some kind of cramped and messy room. But where that messy room was…he couldn't tell. That was the problem with the cauldron, it could summon images, but it couldn't tell him the location of individuals, he would only know where they were if he recognized the place and unfortunately, he hadn't a clue where that room August was in was, and his magic kept taking him into the forest.

But there was another way, an old-fashioned method used for location…scrying. It was old and it involved maps. For that reason alone, it was complicated. The magic could work, but if it didn't have the right map, then it would be useless. And scrying could be done with crystals and head magic…but it was stronger with blood and heart magic. Still, he had to try. For Belle's sake.

He retrieved a map of Storybrooke, it was small, and not nearly as detailed as he wanted it to be, but he tried. With a crystal and by concentrating on August Booth he sat down and watched the crystal hover and sway and swing…and then circled a section of Storybrooke forest. The place he'd already checked. That was convincing but also devastating at the same time. Everything he'd seen, every sign, every piece of magic indicated that Booth was there! But when he'd gone, he couldn't find him. It was magic. No doubts, no assumptions, he was certain. He was using magic to hide. So, until he figured out a way around that…

He didn't stop searching at Booth. He continued his work, knowing that while Booth was important, he also needed to know the location of his enemies. Via scrying he found Smee sleeping in his apartment and Belle in the library and Regina in her home. There was nothing when he focused on Cora. That made sense. Regina wouldn't have wanted her here and claimed to have killed her in the Enchanted Forest. He still doubted that, but for now, he'd accept it, given she was no threat. Zelena and Hook also yielded no results, but now that he was thinking things through, he was curious about something else. Well…two someones was probably a more accurate description.

Cruella and Ursula. He'd watched as the Apprentice had opened a portal for Maleficent's child that they'd fallen through. He suspected it was to this world. He hauled out his globe and made an attempt but had no results when searching for the child. He expected that. There was no bond between them, nothing but a single image of a hand poking through an egg for him to recall and use. Scrying was already very weak magic; it needed a strong memory to work. Besides, he suspected the child was outside of Storybrooke, there was no telling what the magic would do with those outside. So, he tested it on someone he did have a better connection to first. He closed his eyes, focused on Ursula, the sea witch, the woman who had once taken Belle, and let the crystal roam over the globe. He spun it gently when he felt the need to, let it move over, up and down, until he felt a tug on the string of gold holding it. It had landed.

New York City.

He scrambled to the place he kept his maps and guidebooks, the places that he'd imagined going to search for Bae. One was for New York City. He opened the map, spread it wide on his table, and let the crystal do the work that it couldn't do on a globe. This time he felt the tug quickly. He looked down at the tourist map, and suddenly there wasn't a doubt in his mind the magic was working. It tracked the sea witch to an aquarium in New York City. Like always did call out to like. The former sea dweller would have gone somewhere she felt comfortable, working side by side with her fishy friends made sense. But then…where was her other friend.

He couldn't locate Cruella in the city, a surprise since he could easily see her fitting in there running a gallery or jewelry store. But no, he used the globe again and instead found her in upstate New York, of all places. Unfortunately, he couldn't pinpoint her. He didn't have any large maps of upstate New York to point him in any specific direction. However, he was satisfied that they both lived far enough away from Belle that he didn't care.

But doing all this…it did give him another idea.

He took a deep breath, moved the globe closer to him, closed his eyes and focused one more time…on Baelfire. For a brief moment, when he felt the crystal pull, he dared to hope, dared to dream that he didn't need August or Emma, that he might find his boy here and now all on his own. But then he opened his eyes. The crystal hadn't settled. It was hovering, swinging in a circle just as it had with Booth out in the woods only this time it circled parts of New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, and even a little bit of Massachusetts and Pennsylvania.

He took a deep breath and clenched the crystal in his hand until it hurt. He hunched himself over his table and swallowed hard, anything to keep himself from overturning the table in anger. He held on to what was good. He had been right. Baelfire was close. Somewhere in the Northeast, south of here. It was still half a dozen cities to explore, but now he'd learned roughly where he was. It was better than searching the entire United States. And he'd learned something else too. The crystal had circled for Bae just as it had with Booth. It had circled out there for Bae when it hadn't for Cruella or Ursula. Not just one other thing. Two other things.

First, if it had the same reaction as it had for August and he'd concluded that it was because August had magical protection then logically, he had to make the same conclusion for Bae. He, too, was using magical protection.

Second, if he was using magical protection out there, then that meant August had been right. There was magic of some sort, beyond Storybrooke, unstudied magic…

The implications of that were terrifying.

It meant there was a possibility that he was going to need more than just one spell to get him over the barrier.

[welcometoels]

Session Sixteen - Ebeneezer’s Offer

The figure by the fire is offensive to the senses.  He looks like a pile of filthy rags has somehow grown a man’s face, sounds like a cautionary tale about the perils of overindulgence, and smells like an ash tray at the bottom of a midden.  Something about him doesn’t feel right, and the rest just doesn’t bear thinking about.

However, Ebeneezer Chaotic-Neutral gives all impressions of shooting straight with the group.  He welcomes them to the safety of his camp, but also makes it clear that there is more to the situation than may first be evident.

Snapping his fingers, he calls over a luxuriantly mutton-chopped Human called Harry.  With a beguiling shuffle, Harry passes out pieces of paper to the party.  Printed on these papers are artistic representations of each of the bipedal members of the party, with their names printed beneath.  According to the text, the four of them - “and also a Dog” - are wanted for the crime of grand theft at the Dragonhall Bank.

(At this point, the penny finally drops for Julius, who honestly had no idea what was going on.  Bless his sweet Otter soul.)

According to Ebeneezer, these sheets were intercepted on their way out of Monthend to the surrounding towns.  So far, they’ve been held within its walls, but who knows what would happen if word of rhe party's crimes spread further afield.

Fortunately, Ebeneezer has the power to put the record straight.  What he lacks, though, is the funds and the motivation.  Granted, he made a promise to a certain group - a group with whom Cailynn is very familiar - that he would keep them safe for the immediate future, but that period of time is finite.

So, Ebeneezer puts forward a proposition.  It just so happens that, in a neighbouring town, there is a certain artefact: A certain artefact that a certain contact would pay a certain amount of money for.  A very, very large amount.

Being a businessman at heart, and one with a loose definition of property rights, Ebeneezer is keen to fulfil this contract.  All previous attempts, though, have been failures.

This is where our team comes in.  If they can retrieve the thornéd helm of Thornhelm, Ebeneezer promises to use all of the means available to him to clear their records and ensure that word of their supposed crimes spreads no further.

The team confers.  Some are less troubled than others - notably Oddsock, who barely even appears on the warrant.  In a panic, Julius momentarily transforms into a chocolate Labrador, but returns to Otter form after giving it a bit more thought.

Though it quite rightly tests their morals, the adventurers agree to acquire the artefact, and they head off north-northwest to Thornhelm.

Throughout all this, Kadis has been very quiet, and it is while they are journeying that he reveals why.  Before he entered the mysterious doorway and met his new friends, Kadis had spent a brief moment in Thornhelm.  While he was there, he helped fend off a group of bandits who were hell-bent on stealing the very item they were on their way to take.

Naturally, he is feeling very conflicted about this.  Though this plan is the simplest way to resolve their current situation, stealing the item he was previously charged with protecting just doesn’t sit right with him.

Fortunately, an unexpected distraction arrives as they reach town - a distraction in the form of a Half Orc in a utility kilt bedecked with various carpentry tools.  Though Kadis has never actually seen this person, he knows who they are as soon as they speak.

Khoth is a former sorcerer, now living a simple life in Thornhelm performing odd jobs.  Back when Kadis was living here, they knew each other well.  It was a fraught relationship at first - Kadis being very persistent with his questions about magic and how it might relate to the ruination of his home town - but Khoth grew to like the chatty blind monk.

Khoth greets Kadis warmly, and extends that warmth to the rest of the party, inviting them to the Harp & Spider - a welcoming boozer that serves a delightful foamy nut brown ale.

After fetching a round in for the group - and pouring Oddsock’s into his special dog bowl - Khoth quizzes them on what has been going on with them.

This is where Kadis makes a very bold move - and one which results in some pained noises from other members of the team: He opts to tell Khoth everything, up to and including their mission to steal the helm.

Khoth is quiet for a moment, then makes it very clear that, while he will not stand in their way, he will not assist them in stealing from his adopted home town - this is as far as he is willing to go for a friend caught in a difficult situation.

He also offers occasional pieces of advice as the team outlines a series of bizarre, nonsensical, and sometimes outright counterproductive plans:

Suggestions of giving money to Ebeneezer in place of the helm are quickly shot down, since they don’t know how valuable it is (probably very valuable) or how dangerous the intended recipient is (probably quite dangerous)

Finding an artefact of equal value is also mooted, but rejected since they don’t know of any other artefacts

A few vague suggestions of “using magic” are bandied about, though without much certainty of what kind of magic

Just packing it in and returning to Dogwood was also on the table, which would have been nice right up until the warrants for their arrest arrived

Talion does have one bright idea off the back of all this, and mentions that he can create a replica of an item magically, which lasts up to three hours (though it is sparkly and plays music when you touch it).

Somehow, this becomes a cornerstone of the plan, so they leave Khoth in the Harp to pursue... something?

One little piece of intel they did glean from Khoth was that the artefact is being held at the church, which is very easy to find.  The tallest building by several storeys, the church dominates the landscape with its tall, square tower.

The doors are open, and nobody is inside the spacious main area.  The crew takes a moment to admire the stained glass windows, the simple pews, the sturdy door at the far end, and the statues of a female Gnome holding an apple.

Julius becomes quite excited by the latter, and inspects the statue to confirm that this figure is indeed a Forest Gnome, just like his dear Pa.  Oddsock is also drawn to the statues, though mainly because the apple resembles a ball.  He has about as much success in extricating the apple as he had getting the ball from the statue in Mansion de Mortesque.

Kadis takes a moment to make sure that everyone understands the plan.  It is unclear whether or not they do.  What is clear is that empty churches are very echoey, and all the chat and apple-grabbing has attracted some attention on the other side of the closed doors.

The bearer of the attention turns out to be a Gnome by the name of Father Sassafrass - at least, that’s what they think his name is, but it is impossible to be certain thanks to his outrageous lisp.

Kadis approaches and asks if the priest remembers him.  One might more reasonably ask if Kadis remembers the priest - it’s not a voice one would easily forget - but the question has been asked the way it was asked, and the answer is “no”.

It transpires that the current Gnomish occupants of the church are recently new, with the previous priest having left due to stress cause by the constant threat of banditth.

Now, Kadis goes for the same bold gambit that he attempted on Khoth in the Harp.  Nobody else in the team is entirely sure why, but he begins to tell Father Sassafrass all about their recent troubles, the task they’ve been given, and the bandits they are working for.

It is at this point that Sassafrass begins to panic.  The mention of banditth has put him into a tailspin, and nothing the group can do will stop him worrying about banditth and the people in front of him who work for banditth.

[DM’s Note: It is also at this point that I learned that, no matter how well you plan a session, and how much effort you put into your presentation, your players may just collapse into incessant giggling over a Gnome who keeps saying banditth.  I learned a lot on this day.]

Talion tries turning on the charm to help disarm the situation, but Sassafrass resists.  Instead, it takes the soft brown eyes and luxuriant fur of a Golden Retriever to help calm down a manically lisping Gnome.

So delighted is he with the nice doggy, he calls his companion, Sister Rilliriwae, to share in the joy.  Rilliriwae does not have a lisp, but does have her own challenges, and tells the group they can call her Wiwwi.

[DM’s Note: I learned A LOT on this day.]

Once everyone calmed down a bit, a discussion followed wherein the group outlined what would eventually become their plan:  They would take the helm, hand it off to Ebeneezer, go along for the exchange with the purchaser, steal it back from them (leaving a replica behind), then return the artefact.

Though Sassafrass is unthertain, and Rilli thinks the plan is vewy convowuted, the team manages to get them onboard.  The helm is upstairs, at the top of the tower, magically locked behind a statue of the goddess worshipped herein.  All they have to do is go upstairs with the golden apple - handed to them by Rilli - and say the name of the goddess.

The goddess’ name is Salathawaras.  After a few repetitions from both Father and Sister, Rilli writes it down for the team, and they head straight to the top of the tower.

Well, most of them do.  Oddsock takes a scenic route, investigating two rooms on the way: one open, containing simple sleeping quarters and nothing interesting; the other locked, and smelling faintly of musty fabric and soap.  Oddsock drags his little canine arse across the latter door, and joins his friends.

After inserting the apple and speaking the special name, they gain access to a mostly empty room.  In the very middle sits the Thornhelm on a little pedestal.  Over in a far corner, an oversized suit of armour keeps watch.

Something about this setup makes the team feel somewhat paranoid.  Oddsock approaches the armour and investigates it thoroughly, both outside - using his own doggy senses - and inside - using a Mage Hand.  Finding it to be a normal - if unusually large - suit of armour, he demolishes it in disgust, leading to calls of concern Sassafrass downstairs.

Now that the armour has been disregarded as a threat, Talion approaches the pedestal and eyes up the helm, while Julius makes thorough annotated notes for the future replica.  In a departure from the plan, though, Talion makes the replica now, and takes the true helm in a manner best described as ‘Raiders Of The Lost Ark’ style.

The switch is completed with panache, and nothing terrible happens.  Then, Talion decides to take the replica as well, for reasons.  Still nothing terrible happens.  Sometimes a pedestal is just a pedestal.

Back downstairs, Talion shows off his replica helm.  Rilliriwae is concerned about how sparkewwy it is, and Sassafrass isn’t certain if banditth would like that, but Oddsock’s charm gives them total confidence in the plan.  The party leaves, and Oddsock pisses on the door on the way out.  Another church successfully marked.

To celebrate a job well done, the team gathers at Cones Of Coldness, a nearby gelateria, for a round of ice creams.  Oddsock eats his while it is held by his Mage Hand, to the delight of some nearby urchins.

Suddenly, Talion remembers that his replica helm only lasts for three hours from the point of creation, so the group sets off back towards camp.  He then also remembers that he doesn’t actually need it yet, and launches it into the trees for a squirrel to find.

On the journey back, the group inspects the Thornhelm.  The helm itself is utterly mundane, but the “thorn” rising from it undoubtedly contains a lot of magic - specifically necrotic.  Oddsock tries it on, but is unable to channel the power.  He does look magnificent, though.

The team puts their heads together to try and understand what the thorn could be. After a lot of thought, and some consultation of Julius’ notes, they notice how similar it looks to the teeth of the undead beholder that they fought all those days ago.  Similar, but definitely larger.

Kadis’ face mask begins to twitch, and the tiny baby beholder wobbles forth through the air.  It runs its tiny tentacles along the tooth and coos softly.  Their suspicions as to the nature of this artefact are all but confirmed.

Arriving back at camp, they make the handover to Ebeneezer, who graciously receives the bounty.  Keeping his word, he immediately despatches two of his best boys to Monthend to begin the name-clearing process.

In the meantime, Ebeneezer makes the camp’s sparse facilities available to the group.  They are welcome to bed down, enjoy some freshly roasted two-faced pig, and otherwise make use of what is there.

Julius asks if there is any fish, and, though there isn’t, Ebeneezer points towards a nearby stream where the Otter can try his luck.  His luck is good, and he returns to camp with a fresh fish the full length of a helm’s thorn, plus a couple of pretty little stones.

Talion also has a productive moment, penning a new song about a certain someone.  It’s not as pretty as his previous compositions, but it is certainly passionate, in an embittered way.

His performance catches Ebeneezer’s attention.  The wizened pile of filth knows a thing or two about the woman currently known as Zanthia, as it happens.  He knew her many years and several names ago, back when she was Nora Stumbletoe.

According to Mr Chaotic-Neutral, she fell in with a band of thieves and tricksters known as Olidammara’s Revellers.  She made a reputation for herself quickly, for being very good at two things.  Nobody present sees fit to ask what those things might be.

After this little chat, Talion puts forward a suggestion - that he and his companions should take care of the handoff to the purchaser.  Ebeneezer rejects this immediately - his right hand man Harry will be on that duty - but, after some persuasion, he allows the group to accompany Harry and a few select bodyguards tomorrow morning.

Julius also has things to talk to Talion about.  For a while, he has had concerns about everything that has been going on.  His dear old Pa told him not to stray too far from the cottage, but since meeting with the group he has seen and experienced so many things, good and bad.

What is on the poor little Otter’s mind is - did his Pa lie?  Has he missed out on so much life?  Talion comforts his friend as best he can, as the group settles in for a night of fireside sleep.

Tomorrow will no doubt be another eventful day.

[danielcooperrp]

Terror

As much as he loves being around his wife, like, all the time, these days, he’s grateful for the little pockets of time he gets one-on-one with their daughter. Just over the six month mark, Anna tells them something new about herself every day, and the chance to see it, to be the first one to discover that she gets the hiccups when she eats too late or that she’s afraid of the leprechaun on his Celtics sweatshirt, feels like a personal triumph. So when Ally told him that she was going to take a long weekend and help Nat out on a service mission in Ecuador, he sent her off with a kiss and a wave of the baby’s chubby fist, ready for some quality daddy-daughter time in the city. 

Around noon on Saturday, after a lazy morning snuggling in bed, Daniel sets them up in the living room, queuing up the Patriots’ 2001 AFC Divisional Playoff game on the TV. “Okay, Jelly Bean,” he says, lowering her into her Pack ‘n’ Play, “if we’re gonna get you caught up on Patriots history, we’re gonna have to start you early. The Snow Bowl is a perfect entry point, so pay attention.” She blinks up at him with wide eyes. "Just be glad I’m not starting you with Red Sox history, little girl. It’s much longer and much more depressing. You don’t need to learn about Bill Buckner ‘til you’re older.”

He settles on the couch with a mug of tea and hits play, and soon he’s narrating the game to Anna. “So the false start means that a set offensive player crossed the line of scrimmage before the ball was snapped. Can you say ‘scrimmage’?” She shrieks, shoving a stuffed bulldog into her mouth. “Fantastic.” 

Just after the start of the second quarter, a familiar odor pervades the room. He pauses the game. “Uh-oh!” He grins at the baby. “I think someone needs a diaper change, and since Uncle Connor isn’t here, I have a guess who it might be.” 

He bends down to scoop the offender into his arms, dramatically pinching his nose to make her giggle. He carries her into the nursery—what was once Jonathan’s room—and sets her up on the changing table. It takes him longer than strictly necessary, given his penchant for singing operatic ballads to narrate everything he’s doing, much to his audience’s delight. She cackles as he dances the wet wipe in front of her, giving it an impossibly deep baritone. 

He’s just finished snapping the closures on her onesie (navy blue and red, for the occasion) when he hears what sounds like exploding glass from the living room. Confused, he picks Anna up and, cradling her against his chest, tentatively leaves the nursery. It takes him a few moments to see what happened—the room looks more or less normal, the usual insane amount of baby toys strewn all over the place, his mug of tea where left it on the coffee table—but before he can register the glittering sea of glass on the floor, something flies across his field of vision. 

“Fuck!” he shouts, ducking back into the nursery. He slams the door shut, and the baby starts to wail. Over her cries, though, he can hear the telltale sound of tires screeching on the street below. 

“Shh,” he whispers, bouncing her more anxiously than is probably helpful. Anna’s face is growing red, so he presses nervous kisses to her cheeks, murmuring, “It’s okay, baby girl. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He sets Anna in her crib, giving her a random stuffed animal to occupy her, and then he edges carefully to her window, which also faces the street. It’s completely clear, not a person in sight, so he guesses it’s safe to go back out. 

When he reenters the common area, he nearly vomits; the front window is entirely shattered, glass shards everywhere, and sitting on the floor in front of the TV, guilty and shocking, is a brick. He stares at it, unblinking, unable to comprehend what happened. It’s like all those years of education suddenly vanished, and he’s left with the mind of a child: Where did that brick come from? Why is in the apartment? What happened to the window? 

Stepping carefully in his socked feet, he ventures further into the room, heart pounding in his ears. He peers closer at the brick, like it’s a bomb that could explode at any moment, and something new catches his eye. There’s something in Anna’s Pack ‘n’ Play, something much different than the array of fluffy animals and wooden blocks she’d been playing with earlier. When he sees it, his stomach drops, leaving him woozy: a second brick, right where his baby girl had been sitting just a few minutes earlier. 

All caution abandoned, he stumbles forward, skin crawling, itching over his bones, to snatch his phone up from the coffee table. He scrolls frantically for his phone app, ready to call the one person he can think to need in this situation—but pauses, finger hovering over the dial button. No. Panicking is not going to help. There’s a way to handle this, and it involves a different contact. He scrolls again, and makes a call. 

“You need to come into the city,” he says flatly, quietly. “Now. Tell no one.” He hangs up. 

He moves mechanically back to the nursery, touching as little in the room as possible. He’s vaguely aware of pain in his feet, but he ignores it. He closes the nursery door again once he’s inside and picks Anna up out of her crib. He can’t imagine putting her down again, couldn’t think of not having her directly in sight. He sits stiffly in the glider that they uses to rock her to sleep, bouncing her automatically in his arms. She’s mostly stopped crying at this point, having now worn herself out. She wanders in and out of sleep, her eyes opening and closing with no real sense of reason. They sit in the quiet, her little chest rising and falling, his almost perfectly still as he barely breathes. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes, though it feels both like forever and like no time at all. There’s a mechanical crash in the living room—that stirs the baby—and a familiar voice. “DANIEL! ANNA!”

“In here.” He doesn’t even know if his voice is audible.

But it must be, because half a moment later, the nursery door is banging open, and Anna wails in his arms. “What the fuck happened?” Tony demands, suit deconstructing around him. “It’s like a war zone out there.” 

He has to work hard to pull himself together into something resembling a human person. “They threw bricks. Through the window. Two of them.”

“Who?”

“No idea.” His eyes fall down to Anna, who’s gripping the front of his shirt in one tiny fist. “One of them landed in her Pack ‘n’ Play.”

Tony staggers to the side. “Jesus Christ—is she—”

“She’s fine. We were in here when it—” He takes a deep breath. “But she had been in there just minutes before.” He finally looks back up at his father-in-law, eyes brimming with tears. “It could have killed her.” 

Tony runs a hand over his face. “I don’t understand. Who—why the fuck are people throwing bricks into your place?”

“Did you see them?”

“No, why?”

The words are burned on the inside of Daniel’s eyelids. “They’ve got ‘Die, muties’ written on them.”

The silence echoes, filling the nursery until Daniel thinks the walls are going to collapse. 

“You’re hurt,” Tony says finally, voice croaking. He nods to Daniel’s feet. “You’re bleeding.”

Daniel nods. “I know.”

“Does Ally know? Is she on her way back from...Columbia?”

“Ecuador. And no. I haven’t told her. And I’m not going to.”

Tony frowns. “Uh, hate to break it to you, kid, but I think she’s going to notice the massive hole in your window.”

“No, you’re going to help me get that fixed and this place cleaned up before she comes back.”

With a sigh, Tony says, “Look, kid, you can’t keep something like this from her—”

“I’m not going to lie to her,” Daniel snaps, and then quickly adjusts his temperament when the baby starts to fuss. “I’ll tell her everything when she gets home. But I’m not calling her back here early when there’s nothing she can do, and I’m not going to have her coming home to a terror scene. Besides, if she finds out now, she’ll go through every anti-mutant bigot in this town until she’s arrested or dead.”

“And what’ll stop her from doing that once she gets back?”

Daniel looks him straight in the eye. “You will.”

Tony snorts. “Have you ever tried to stop my daughter from doing something she wants to do? I’m a billionaire but I’m not god.” 

“She’s not going to find the people who did this because you’re going to find them first.”

Tony blinks in surprise. “Daniel, kid, listen, I get that this has been a shocking experience—”

“A shocking experience?” Daniel laughs derisively. He pushes himself up out of the glider, ignoring the stabbing pain in his feet. Tony winces. “What’s shocking is that this is the first time this has happened. What’s shocking is that we weren’t better prepared for it. What’s shocking is that I let myself drop my guard for five fucking minutes.”

“Daniel—”

“You think this is the first time something like this has happened to me? I was four when I first heard someone call my dad a kike. Walking out of Fenway, first home win of the season, we were floating on air, and some skinhead shouts it at him from across the parking lot. I was seventeen when a group of grown men chased me and Connor with bats through downtown London because they saw us leaving a gay club. I’ve been called a fag more times than I could count, and I’ve been with Ally when she’s had to walk past anti-mutant protesters all around town. Shocking? Tony, this is our fucking lives. And it almost cost my daughter hers.” 

He crumbles back into the chair, wiping furiously at the tears on his cheeks. He brushes away the curls from Anna’s face, his heart racing.

The silence is long, ended only when Tony clears his throat. “I can have the window replaced by the end of the day. We’ll get something stronger, bulletproof, brick-proof, whatever. I’ll get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to start scanning the internet for chatter about an attack on you guys, see if we can’t get a lead.”

“You can take the bricks to Detective Shannon McInerney at the station on Myrtle. She owes me a favor, can run fingerprints under the table.”

Tony tips his head to the side. “Why does a BPD detective owe you a favor?”

Daniel shrugs. “I introduced her to her wife. Tell her it’s for me.” 

Nodding, Tony turns to head out. “Take care of your feet, before you bleed out.” He’s almost out the door before he stops and turns back. “What’re the odds?”

Daniel’s barely listening, his attention turned back to the fussing baby he’s holding. “Hm?”

“What are the odds that these asswipes would choose to do this when Ally, a mutant who could easily kill them without breaking a sweat, happens to be out of town by herself for the first time in...god, forever.”

Daniel freezes, considering Tony’s words. He’s not wrong. Ally never goes anywhere for an extended period of time without him, especially not since the baby was born. The only reason she went on this trip at all was because it was only for a few days, and it was all logistical on-the-ground stuff, no actual superheroing required. The chances of them picking a random Saturday to throw bricks through their front window and hitting the one when she wasn’t home...

“What does it mean?” he asks quietly. “Why threaten a mutant if the mutant isn’t there to receive the threat?”

Tony chooses his next words carefully. “Unless the mutant they were intending to threaten wasn’t Ally.” 

The words rush over him like an icy river. His eyes widen as he stares at his daughter, petrified. No one knows, of course, whether or not Anna will end up being a mutant, but if there’s one things bigots hate more than mutants, it’s mutants making other mutants. Anna poses an existential threat to the anti-mutant agenda: the daughter of a powered superhero, the granddaughter of an Avenger, and possibly part of the next generation of mutants. 

The bricks were meant for her.

He nearly vomits. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Tony says quickly. “You hear me? You stay here, you stay with her, you get yourself cleaned up. I’ll have this all sorted out before Ally gets back, I promise you that.”

“And what will you do once you find them?” he asks, devoid of emotion. 

Tony pauses. “What needs to be done.”

A beat. “Good.” 

Tony nods, and then closes the nursery door behind him. Daniel continues to gently rock back and forth, humming tunelessly until Anna’s eyes flutter shut again. He can’t stop looking at her, can’t help but think himself in circles about what he almost lost today. Despite his diatribe to Tony, he is in shock. He’s shocked that despite everything he’s been through, he’s still able to feel the razor-sharp fear of this, the choking panic of how close he came to having his still-beating heart ripped from his chest. There have always been stakes before, the uncertainty of someone else’s behavior, the fierce anxiety of what could be done to him or to Ally or to Connor and Jonathan, but this, this little, impossible thing in his arms, all rounds edges and eyelashes, this is without a doubt going to be the thing that breaks him. 

He presses the softest kiss to her forehead. As much as his body is itching, his limbs aching to get up and run, to stash his little girl somewhere the rest of the world could never hope to touch her, he lets her sleep, breath coming slow and even, lost in a dream where only those who love her most can find her. 

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

Afraid Ch. 5

1988

Bob Rock was a genius. After the first few recording sessions ended with nothing recorded and Nikki, Tommy, and Vince just fighting with each other; he had wised up and made the decision to have the boys all record their parts separate from each other. I thought I was going to have to try to book the first flight home after the second day of Nikki and Vince screaming in each other’s faces one calling the other a diva. Not only were both of them divas, they were both assholes with huge rock and roll egos that couldn’t stand to have another big ego in the room. Mick had become my cigarette buddy when the yelling got to be too much for us. The arguing between Nikki and Vince was so bad Tommy would even leave to join us with the occasional joint to relieve our tension. I tried to only smoke the cigarettes, but Tommy was right, sometimes you just need a few puffs on a joint to deal with those two. I loved working with Bob Rock though, he was meticulous and loved to get to the point. We were working on getting Nikki’s bassline down for the song Kickstart My Heart when Bob called for a break.

“Alright let’s take a breather to eat some food or I may go crazy” He said stretching after getting out of his chair behind the board.

“I’m cool with that I was just thinking about sandwiches” I laughed stretching as well. I stuffed my cigarette pack in the pocket of my leather jacket and headed out to find something to eat.

“Hey wait up!” Nikki hollered after me. The entire week and a half we had been here he had been trying to spend as much time with me as he possibly could. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the company. He was trying to push “us being friends” so hard he even joined me for popcorn and movies in my hotel room one night.

“Did you ever think maybe I am a little over seeing your face Nikki?” I rolled my eyes, not because I was actually annoyed with him, I was annoyed with myself for not being annoyed with him.

“You really hurt me sometimes ya know that (y/n)” Nikki pouted his lower lip out at me which caused my lips to curl up into a smile.

“Your ego is too large for my little opinion to have any effect on you” I snickered, but was cut off by running into Nikki who had stepped in front of me. I looked up into his hazel eyes as he looked down at me cupping my cheek in his hand.

“Your opinion of me actually means the most to me out of anyone here” He said quietly and I drew in a quick gasp of breath. His mouth transformed into a smirk and he pinched my cheek lightly. “Wow (y/n) I didn’t realize you were so good at impersonating a tomato”

“God dammit Nikki Sixx” I scowled reaching up and pinching one of his nipples through his shirt (or ripped up cloth on his torso rather than an actual shirt) causing him to yipe a little bit.

“You know you can’t just twist my nipples all the time without taking me to dinner at least once” Nikki teased throwing an arm around my shoulder.

“Nikki we eat dinner together basically every night because you’re always coming to my hotel room to bother me” I hadn’t noticed I was now allowing Nikki to lead me and we were just walking down the road of the small town the studio was located.

“Those don’t count as dates and I want a date” Nikki said matter of factly.

“It’s not a good idea to mix business and pleasure” I poked him in the ribs lightly trying to sneak a peek at his face in order to see if he seemed to be joking.

“This would be mixing pleasure and pleasure. Music gives me pleasure and clearly it does the same for you. And we can pleasure each other” He shrugged nonchalantly, but his face held a shit eating grin.

“You’re ridiculous” I shook my head as he led me into some time sandwich shop on the corner. I tried not to think about how many butterflies were floating around my abdomen at the thought of a date with Nikki.

I yawned and leaned my head onto my upright palm closing my eyes as Bob and I relistened to the same section of the song getting Nikki and Mick’s parts together on (my personal favorite song) Don’t Go Away Mad. 

“(Y/N), just go to bed” Bob shook my shoulder.

“Helping you is my job though” I grumbled.

“So that means I’m your boss and I’m saying go to bed” He chuckled and I decided I wasn’t going to push it and went to go call a taxi on the payphone when I was confronted with Nikki on a motorcycle outside.

“What are you doing here Sixx?” I quirked an eyebrow making my way to him.

“We’re going on a date” He replied and patted the back of his seat.

“It’s midnight. No place is open for a date” I wasn’t about to go to a bar for a date if that was what he had in mind.

“Will you just hush and get on the bike?” He laughed shaking his head.

I figured I had nothing to lose by climbing on his bike so I got on behind him and put my hands on his shoulders.

“You’re ridiculous.” Nikki shook his head and moved my arms to wrap around his waist. “Hold on tight”

Next thing I knew we were peeling out of the parking lot of the studio and headed down the road. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my face into Nikki’s back allowing myself to indulge a little bit. I pressed my hands against his abdomen feeling his abs underneath my fingertips and allowed myself to picture dragging my nails down his torso having him shiver beneath me. I took a deep breath and enjoying the scent of leather, cigarettes, and the smallest hint of cologne. Before I knew it we were pulling into the parking lot of the hotel.

“Uh are we changing before the date?” I asked confused.

“No the date is here.” Nikki replied getting the bike settled and shutting it off.

“The date is at the hotel that we’re already staying at and eat at every day?” I couldn’t tell if Nikki was just fucking with me or if he was actually that lazy.

“Stop talking” Nikki grabbed my hand dragging me into the elevator pressing the number for our floor.

When we got to the floor our rooms were on Nikki pulled his scarf off his neck and covered my eyes with it. Giggling as he continued to lead me to our secret destination I squeezed his hand and felt him squeeze back. We stopped and I heard Nikki opening a door before he’s ushering me inside the room.

“Okay you can take the scarf off.” He said and I untied the scarf from my head. I was met with a pizza on the bed, some candles, and two bottles of water with a bottle of wine in a bowl with ice.

“Nikki.. This is beautiful” My jaw is practically on the floor. It wasn’t a lot, and yet it was more than she’s recieved in a long time.

“Well get comfy and I’ll put in that movie you’ve been talking about” Nikki nudged me toward the bed.

“Child’s Play?” I asked excitedly taking my jacket and shoes off before climbing on the bed.

“Yup” Nikki smiled devilishly and put the tape in the player.

I had my face pressed into Nikki’s shoulder. I officially had a fear of dolls now I think. Nikki was running a hand through my hair and laughing at me on and off every time I squealed and I tried to tell myself that me being curled in his lap was purely out of fear and not because I’ve been dreaming of being tangled up in him.

“The movie is over you big baby.” Nikki lightly removed me from his lap and shut the T.V. off.

“Listen, dolls are ruined for me forever.” I shivered nervously.

“I’ll be sure to get you a doll for Christmas then” I tossed a pillow at him and he slapped it out of the air laughing at me again.

“Fuck you Nikki if you get me a doll I will fight you.” I tried to come off as tough, but it’s hard to seem badass when you feel like a Barbie could make you cry.

“Oh whatever. I’m going to go to bed so I’ll see you in the morning.” Nikki started to head toward the door to my room.

“Wait!” My mouth spoke on it’s own volition. “Please stay with me. Uh, I’m scared”

“Where would I sleep? The floor isn’t comfortable” Nikki was looking at me funny and a lump formed in my throat.

“In the bed..with, with me.” I spoke quietly.

“Okay.” Nikki smiled and made his way to the bed. “Am I okay to take these off? Sleeping in leather pants isn’t comfortable.”

“I’m not going to sleep in my leather pants so I’m not going to make you sleep in yours.” I was up unlacing my leather pants at the same time he was and we made eye contact. I spun around unable to maintain eye contact without turning bright red. I unclasped my bra and slid it off my shoulders and tossed it to the side on top of my pants and settled into the bed. Nikki settled into the other side and an awkward silence filled the room.

“Okay well goodnight.” I choked out and shut the light off on the nightstand. I layed there staring at the ceiling while my eyes adjusted to the dark. I could see the form of Nikki laying next to me also on his back staring up. There was a loud bang outside the window and I quickly tucked myself into Nikki’s side.

“(Y/N) it was just thunder” Nikki turned onto his side wrapping me up in his arms. I could see the outline of his features and I couldn’t help but reach out to touch his face.

“You make me nervous” I let the words I’m thinking slip out between my lips.

“You make me excited” Nikki whispered back.

“I want to mix business and pleasure with you” I started to close the distance between us when Nikki put a hand on my chest and stopped me.

“You know I come with some baggage.” Nikki sighed “I’ve never been able to make a relationship work before.”

“Nikki we met in rehab shut up and kiss me before I change my mind.” And with that Nikki tangled his hand in my hair bringing our lips together. I had been picturing what Nikki’s lips on mine would feel like since the first time he pouted at me and I could not have properly imagined the way he would make me feel. I brought my hand to his chest and balled his shirt in my fist pulling him closer to me. Nikki tugged my hair and pulled our faces apart in order to catch our breath before he connected our mouths again. I moaned into his mouth and well, the next thing I knew my hands were pinned above my head.

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

A Twist of Fate ch.17 -Call Me Yours

The Elementalist AU

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 2024

Warnings: NSFW

Master List

This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

    When Sunday rolled around, Beckett had an idea. As they were snuggling on the couch drinking their morning coffee, he asked “Do you like bowling?”

She started chuckling. “Would you like to go bowling, Beck?”

His cheeks burned. “I enjoy it, yes. And I wouldn’t mind going on an actual first date with you. Just the two of us. In public. Maybe holding hands.”

“We already went on a date.”

“But not just us.”

“We made out in a parking lot.”

“We don’t have to go.” He said quickly, trying to backtrack, feeling completely foolish for even suggesting the idea.

  She sat up, turning to face him. “I would love to go...” She started.

“Great, then let’s…”

“If you admit that this will be a second date. Our first date was with a group, and I wouldn’t change it for anything. So, if you can admit that we already had our first date, then I will go on our second date. Anywhere you want.”

He stared at her a moment, caught off guard.

“Beckett.” She laughed. “Seriously? Is that hard to wrap your sexy brain around? We did have sex after. And a lot of it. If that doesn’t scream ‘date’ then I don’t know what to tell you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously before meeting her eye and smiling, leaning forward and capturing her lips with his own. “Alright.” He murmured. “Then are you ready for date number two?”

“Readier than you are, apparently.” She joked, kissing him again.

“Ori, when you kiss me like that, I…I…” He moaned quietly as she moved herself into his lap, grinding her hips into his.

He pulled back, running his fingers through her hair. “You’re incredible, Oriana. How did I get this lucky? To have you in my arms right now?”

She smiled softly. “It’s not luck.” With that comment, she began kissing his neck and running her hands up and down his bare chest.

He grabbed her hands and held them, just looking at her, searching her eyes.

“Are you okay?” She questioned.

He nodded. “More than okay. I’m actually…great.” He grinned at her. “I’m great.”

I have the most beautiful girl in the world in my arms. Things are pretty perfect right now.

Hours later, they walked into the bowling alley. Getting shoes and balls they began their game, and it quickly became clear that Oriana was a terrible bowler. He tried to hold in his laughter, but eventually failed as she ended the first game with 50 points.

“Shut it, Harrington. I never said I was good at it.”

“I’m just surprised. The Oriana Miller I know can do anything.”

“Hey! I can do anything! But I won’t always be good at it!” She pushed his arm playfully as he went to start the second game. This time when it was her turn, he went up with her.

“What are you doing?”

“Relax.” He murmured from behind her, his hands trailing down her arms. “Just focus on the pins. Just focus on one spot. Do you have one in mind?”

She nodded.

“Good. Now, just…bring your arm back with the ball and then….” He helped her follow through, together watching as the ball rolled down the lane, knocking down half the pins.

“See? You’ve got this. Easy peasy.”

“Oh my god, Beck, you did not say ‘easy peasy’.” She laughed

“What’s wrong with that? It’s a good expression.” He defended.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her ball as it came back.

“Well it is.” He stepped behind her again, helping her follow through, knocking down all but one pin.

Stepping up for his own turn, Beckett carefully lined up his shot, and as he began to swing, Oriana called from behind him.

“Shake that sexy ass!!”

He jumped in surprise, releasing the ball, throwing it directly into the gutter, and spun around to see a very amused Oriana smirking behind him.

“Ori!”

“Beck, did you get sunburned, somehow?” She asked innocently.

“What?”

“Your face is beet red.”

He did feel his cheeks burning and was pretty sure the crimson color he was sure he was, was now flush all over his body.

“God, you’re adorable when you blush.”

“I…” He blushed harder, snatching up his returned ball and going back up to the lane, completely self-conscious of his ass. He could feel her eyes practically undressing him and he shivered in anticipation. He lined up his shot and got a spare.

Oriana joined him on the floor. “Well, well. Someone also likes it when I’m checking them out, making them blush…”

“It’s your turn.” He mumbled out.

“Hey.” She took his hand and pulled him to her. “Look at me.” She tilted his chin up so he met her gaze. “You, Beckett Harrington, are a force to be reckoned with. And I wouldn’t have you any other way.” She kissed him sweetly before taking her ball. Taking his hand, she pulled him behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist, his other one sneaking up her forearm as he gently pressed a kiss to her cheek.

He could feel her grin at the touch and his heart fluttered, his one hand reflexively tightening on her waist, flushing her against him.

He helped her bring her arm back again, sending the ball speeding down the lane…knocking down all the pins, getting a strike.

“Aaaauuhh!!! Did you see that, did you see???” She jumped up and down excitedly, before twirling around in his arms, and practically knocking him over as she threw herself at him. Standing just a breath away, she murmured, “Beckett…can I stay in your arms? Always?”

He tucked a piece of her hair behind her hair. “I would love nothing more.”

They were once again lost in each other, forgetting their surroundings until one of the alley employees cleared their throat. Breaking apart breathlessly, they both looked at the clerk.

“If you’re done bowling, I need you to move your party of two somewhere else before you give the entire building a lot more than they paid for.” The employee smirked as the tips of Beckett’s ears turned red.

“I’ll go turn in our shoes, I’ll meet you by the door.” He told her, hastily removing his shoes and then practically shoving her into a chair so he could take hers too.

“Geez, Beckett, slow down. We were just kissing.”

“Oriana.” He growled. “It wasn’t exactly just kissing.”

She looked at him questioningly before he stood up again, and then she saw what he meant. “Ohhhhhh” Her eyes brightened. “Well then. We better get home and take care of that.” He hastily returned their bowling shoes to the counter before clasping Oriana’s hand in his and practically yanking her out to the parking lot and back to the car.

“This is a bit familiar.” She said slyly.

“I want to show you something. The sun is setting soon, and I want to bring you to my favorite spot in town. Well, out of town, really.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay…”

He could feel his heart thumping wildly. He hadn’t planned on getting a huge hard on at the bowling alley, and he really really wanted to take her to his special place. He knew she’d appreciate it, and even though he would love to take her home and fuck her, this was more important.

“You’re kinda acting funny, Beck.”

He chuckled lightly. “I apologize. It’s not my intention.” He placed her hand on her leg and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I promise.”

She nodded and leaned her head back against the seat, just watching him, her eyes turning golden. He inhaled deeply at the light flooding throughout him.

She loves me. She can’t say it yet…but she does. I feel it. She’s letting me feel it. No one has ever loved me before. I’ve never loved anyone else. I should tell her. Even if she doesn’t say it back.

Seeing the exit, he turned off the road and drove a bit more before coming into a small clearing. She gasped as she took in the view.

“Beckett….You can see everything from here.”

He nodded proudly. “Yes. I’ve been coming here for years. I think it’s a bit of a secret, very rarely do I come across someone else. Usually it’s just me. Come on.”

They stepped out of the car and walked to the edge of the outlook. The sun was just beginning to set, bathing everything in a golden light.

“It’s beautiful.” She murmured.

“A beautiful view for a beautiful woman.” He blushed lightly as she rolled her eyes.

“Beck?” I had a really good day.”

He smiled softly at her before turning back to the city below, the twinkling lights coming on as the sun moved further down the horizon. He wrapped her arms around her from behind, pulling her close, and moaned lightly as she rotated her hips in small circles, feeling him grow through his pants.

“You’re insatiable, Ori.”

“Only for you.” He could feel her hesitate before speaking again. “I have to tell you something, Beckett.” He turned her around, so he could look in her eyes.

“What’s that?” He murmured.

She bit her lip, and he leaned forward, grasping it with his teeth and pulling lightly.

She took a shuddery breath as he released it. “I’m not the most peaceful person in the world. I’m not even sure what peace is supposed to feel like, but… I think it may feel a lot like you. And that scares the hell out of me. I don’t want to hurt you, Beckett. You’re so good. You have such a good heart.” She placed her hand on his chest. “I just want you to know that. If I ever hurt you…It was never my intention.”

Beckett frowned, pulling her into a tight hug. Why does she keep thinking that she’s going to hurt me? Why does she keep acting like this is all temporary? How can I get through to her? His mind was swimming with a million thoughts.

She kissed him fiercely, tugging him backwards until she hit the hood of his car. “Take me, Beckett. Take me now. I’m yours. So, claim me as your own.”

His dick jumped in his pants. “But we’re outsi…”

She gently pushed him away from her, pulling off her pants before hopping onto the hood of his car, spreading her legs wide, beckoning him with her finger. The sight was out of this world. The twinkling lights behind him, a beautiful girl in front of him, begging for him. He stepped closer to her and never broke eye contact as she undid his pants and shoved them down his legs.

“I’m yours.” She repeated, yanking him to her by his shirt. “Make me yours.”

He grabbed her hips and entered her in one fluid motion, her head falling back in ecstasy. “You’re mine.” He grunted.

“Yes” She breathed.

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours!”

He thrust in and out of her, completely overcome by emotion. She only shows vulnerability to me. She loves me. I love her.

“Beck…” She moaned as he buried his face in her neck, biting into her flesh with his teeth.

“Ori…” He grunted

“Beckett…cum inside me. I need you to come inside me.” Her voice sounded desperate as she rocked into him, working together to intensify the pleasure, building the intensity.

I love her. She loves me. I have to somehow prove that this isn’t temporary.

As he emptied his hot seed inside her, he had her flush against his body, the heat of their passion mixing with the cool air around them. Breathing heavily, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her.

She whispered something so faint he had to ask her to repeat it.

“Official date number two…an entire weekend making love…I think I qualify as your girlfriend.”

He stopped breathing. “Did you just call yourself my girlfriend?”

She pulled her face back, cupping his rosy cheeks in her hands. “Can I be?” She whispered.

He grinned and pulled her in for another searing kiss. “You already are.”

    @annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @coffeebeandragon @drakewalker04 @alesana45 @mfackenthal

@xo-endlessmayhem-xo @divergentofhogwarts @rissah @syltti78 @damienswhore @askdana @giulia2372 @wickedgypsymoon @the-writerly-night-owl  

@aworldoffandoms @endlessly-searching-for-you @nerdynstoned

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[tjkiahgb]

Episode Recap: 3.10, “The Quacks”

The episode picks up not long after the last episode ended, with Buffy asking her friends just what in the hell that Secret Society scheme was all about.

Her friends, who were super excited to help Walker out last week, waste no time throwing him under the bus now.

Jonah didn’t like the Secret Society stuff.

Cyrus didn’t like the robes.

Andi thinks it was kind of a sick way to ask someone to a dance.

Walker watch out for the bus oh my god he has airpods in he can’t hear us! oh my god!

Buffy reels off a list of the things she didn’t like about what happened: no to surprises, no to being put on the spot, and no to predictability. The candles were cool though.

Andi asks if Buffy still likes Walker and she gives a resounding ehh. Buffy explains that Walker made her shoes like how he made Andi shoes once, a long time ago. Andi thinks that is so wrong. Buffy says it’s his “signature move.” Andi and Buffy imagine Walker’s given shoes to every girl in town.

Am I going crazy here? He’s an artist? He makes artsy gifts for people? This would be like getting mad at Andi for making you a craft gift. It’s what she does! It’s not like Walker’s going around giving everyone cheap store-bought gifts like horrible little gnomes or neon green shoelaces. As long as he didn’t copy the exact mural he made with Andi that one time, what’s the problem? It’s a homemade gift. He had to spend time working on it. It’s still really nice. By this standard, would he have also not been allowed to make a drawing of Buffy as a gift? He’s already done that for Andi so that’s off the table. Find a new way to be creative, Walker. Make a necklace out of discarded soda can tabs or make a headband out of an old belt or something. I know art is your thing, but, sorry, you’ve played that card. It’s over now. Move on.

By the way, Andi and Buffy assume, with zero evidence, that Walker is going around town giving shoes to every girl like an unfixed cobbler in heat. Why?

They also assume all those girls would wear those shoes he gave them as gifts to public places like the school dance, despite not being in a relationship with him. I do feel like most people wouldn’t wear something an ex gave them while currently being in a relationship with another person. That’s so thoughtless. Wear shoes Walker gave you as a romantic gift while hanging out around your current boyfriend? Who in the world would behave like that? That would be crazy. A monument to poor decision making. I simply can’t imagine.

Aaaaaanyway, Cyrus assumes that’s it then. Buffy’s breaking up with Walker. And Buffy’s like, yeah, we’re done. I’m ghosting him. Cyrus tells her that’s not good enough. Talk to him. Break up with him in person.

Feels like Cyrus could save himself a lot of energy by recording a voice memo on his phone that says “YOU HAVE TO COMMUNICATE!” and just playing it for his friends over and over again.

Buffy thinks Walker knows, but Jonah assures her he doesn’t because: “He’s a guy.”

The pinpoint accuracy of those three words rattles Buffy to her core.

At the dance studio, Cyrus... dances?

...has a seizure?

...gets attacked by a swarm of gnats?

...reenacts the Ides of March?

...is possessed by the spirit of an evil marionette?

I’m just not sure.

Amber shows up and asks if he’s rehearsing being electrocuted.

Ah. Damn. That’s a good one.

Cyrus tells her he has to come up with an original dance for his choreography final and perform it. Wild that he’s already got a final exam. His dance class was like a month long. No wonder it seems like all he’s learned to do is flail his arms about. Amber volunteers to tutor him in the art of dance choreography.

Wait, does Amber know how to dance? I mean, I guess she did at the house party that one time. But can she really teach Cyrus to capture the raw, super strange energy of this performance?

I have my doubts.

Over at Bex’s, Bowie presents Andi and Bex with a surprise.

That’s right! A plank!

Andi wants to know who the Quinns are. Bowie thinks they all will be, after the marriage. Bex isn’t so sure. (Maybe hyphenate?) Bowie thinks it’s important, bonding them all together as a tribe, but Bex also thinks it’s important for everyone to choose their own identity. (Hyphenate?) Mack is part of who Bex is. For example, it’s on her bowling shirt. (Hyphenate. Stitch “-Quinn” right on to the end of that bad boy.)

Andi proposes they mash up their names but they realize that would make them the Quacks and abandon that idea so quickly they never even consider they could also become the Mann family, which is pretty sweet.

Back at the dance studio, Amber asks Cyrus to touch his toes. He can’t, but in fairness, he’s only been at this dance thing for like two weeks.

Amber tries to get him to do some moves but Cyrus says it’s too hard, so Amber hair-slaps some sense into him.

At the gym for the first Spikes game, Buffy watches the opposing team warmup and settles into some depressing fatalism.

Her teammate, who the end credits tell me was named Kaitlin, says the team is well-aware of that because Buffy’s been saying it all week. Kaitlin tries to get Buffy to say something that builds confidence in the team but Buffy’s not interested.

The team’s coach shows up.

Her name is Mrs. Deborah Mendenhall. She’s the guidance counselor. She’s also late to the game, knows nothing about basketball, has the gait and posture of an elderly woman, and is dressed like a flight attendant for some reason.

On the bright side, she brought orange slices.

So at least no one will get scurvy.

Kaitlin points out that the good news is they don’t have enough girls to even play. Buffy’s shocked no one else is coming and wants to know why. Kaitlin tells her it’s probably because Buffy’s spent the entire week telling everyone they were going to lose and be humiliated.

Look, say what you will about TJ as a team captain, but he only went after one player on his team. Buffy recruited this girls’ team, then spent several weeks alienating and insulting them and eventually got 2/3s of her team to quit before they even got to play their first game.

I hope she’s cleared her calendar for a ton of redemption arcs.

Buffy says the loss would have been really embarrassing, but now they’re going to have to forfeit, which she feels is way worse.

I disagree. You can forfeit with some dignity. Floundering around the court while the other team beats you down leaves barely any room for that.

It’s like this. Say you’re going to a party, but right before you get there, you get mud all over the back of your pants. Huge stain. Can’t get it out. Just go home, right? Forfeit the evening. You walk into that party and everyone’s going to think you had a horrible accident. You can desperately try to explain it’s mud, or you can try to own it in some weird way I can’t even imagine, but let’s be honest, all you’re going to get is a mean nickname and an unflattering reputation about town.

The lesson, kids, is if you have a chance to forfeit, forfeit.

Buffy decides, instead, she’s going to try calling the team.

Up in the stands, Andi asks Libby if she’s still planning on breaking up with Jonah. Libby is. She then points at Jonah and mimics him texting like a dope. Jonah, who is good at picking up subtle hints, wonders if these two are talking about him.

Buffy has no luck convincing anyone from the team to come get publicly humiliated. I say call TJ. Tell him to grab a wig and race down to the gym. Worth a shot.

Instead Buffy looks into the stands to try and find a replacement. She spots her artsy friend who’s shown almost zero athletic ability over the years...

...and thinks, yep, there’s the ticket.

So, Buffy drags Andi out of the bleachers and to the locker room to change as Jonah and Cyrus head up to sit next to Libby.

Cyrus greets Libby with sign language.

Oh, by the way, Cyrus also knows sign language now. Where did he find the time? I can barely commit to the 10 minute Duolingo Spanish lessons on my phone.

Jonah asks Cyrus to do some translating. He wants to know if Libby is mad at him. Libby wants him to learn sign language. Jonah apologizes through Cyrus, but Libby walks away.

Cyrus tells Jonah texting Libby used to be an okay way to communicate, but now the two have been going out for a while. Perfect opportunity for him to pull out his phone and play the “YOU HAVE TO COMMUNICATE!” message.

Also, a while? It’s not been like, a couple weeks? Cyrus’s dance class is over already, Buffy’s team is just now having their first game of the season, Jonah and Libby have been dating two years and I’ve lost complete understanding of the timeline again.

Jonah says he hasn’t learned because he’s afraid he’ll be bad at it.

Cyrus says it’ll be enough if he’s making the effort, but I just want to put this back on the table: forfeit the relationship. Take your mud-stained pants and go home.

At Bex’s, Bex approaches Bowie to do some compatibility testing of their relationship by asking some big questions and jotting down some answers to compare.

Bowie asks her about calzones. I’ll take this one, Bex. It’s pizza with excess bread. It’s hard to get a good cook on the stuffing. The toppings are rarely dispersed in a satisfying way. Not worth it.

Oh? Guess Bex and I are more compatible than I thought.

Bex wants to play seriously though, so they jump in. Bex asks if Bowie would ever want to have more kids, to which Bowie is like...

I mean, why not? If it all goes wrong, Celia’s still around, right?

Buffy brings her newest basketball recruit out to the gym so the game can finally begin. Things don’t start so hot.

Andi gets a pass and then takes off running with the ball like a halfback on a football team.

She forgot about dribbling. Bad sign. Dribbling is probably the second rule almost all people know about basketball behind knowing that the ball has to go into the basket to score points. God, I hope she remembers that at least.

Things don’t get much better from there. The public humiliation of the basketball team happens just as it was foretold.

Mrs. Mendenhall, meanwhile, spends time handing out snacks to the opposing team.

I’d normally be mad about this but she clearly has too many oranges. There’s only five people on Buffy’s team. Might as well not let them go to waste.

Andi gets the ball again and immediately turns it over.

Buffy was worried about being embarrassed, but honestly, Andi’s taking the brunt of it here. Maybe stop giving her the ball? Save her from herself.

Buffy mercifully calls a timeout to think things over.

She pulls the team into a huddle. They think she’s going to chew them out, but instead, she thanks them for showing up. She apologizes for being a bad captain and says she’s realized losing is not the worst thing ever. It’s great that those who showed up are there and that they’re in the game.

Or, basically, isn’t it nice to just be alive and doing stuff? Which is a decent message for life but a really low bar to hurdle for team sports. Congrats to us all on not dying.

They start playing again with a newfound, joyous outlook. I’m glad they’re happy with this, but their play is hurting me physically.

Kaitlin catches a pass and goes up for a lay-up from about a foot away from the basket and nearly misses not just the hoop, but the entire backboard.

It thuds off the side of the backboard and makes a noise that’s like nails on a chalkboard to me. This should be a wake up call for Kaitlin to get her vision checked. Or some kind of medical checkup. Something’s wrong.

Andi gets a pass, then, for some reason, spins, runs the wrong way, and hucks a wild shot up from half-court at the wrong basket.

It goes in as the game ends. Everyone celebrates for different reasons. I’m light headed.

Are we really sure that wasn’t worse than just leaving early? Are we really going with the lesson here of: “Kids, it doesn’t matter how terrible you do, as long as you do.” I hope no one growing up to be a doctor or pilot feels that way. Please, do those jobs well or don’t do them at all. No one’s gonna cheer you if you put the wrong organ inside your surgery patient or get lost and crash land into the ocean.

At Bex’s, Bex and Bowie review their answers and find themselves to be really compatible.

I think the biggest sign of their compatibility was that neither of them thought to ask the other any of these big, important life questions before agreeing to get married.

Lack of forethought and an improvisational approach to life problems suits them well, I guess.

Jonah meets Libby outside the school. He asks her to teach him sign language in sign language.

If he really wants to learn, he should hunt down the 5th grade teacher who made everyone else so fluent.

Libby agrees to. She tells Jonah she likes him.

Jonah says he likes her, 2. They seem to have reached a good level of understanding in their relationship. Amazing what COMMUNICATION! can do.

At Cyrus’s dance class, Cyrus prepares to deliver his final. Amber psyches him up, he heads out onto the floor, and...

Guys. It’s no good.

I mean, he’s doing this march walk thing.

And this scuba move like he’s dancing at a party from some 1960s beach movie.

And the robot.

His big finale is the sprinkler, of all things...

...followed by the Glee throw-your-fist-up-and-look-to-the-sky move.

I just don’t see how Cyrus passes this.

How do you watch that as a dance teacher and not go, “That was the laziest collection of basic, stock dance moves I’ve ever seen. Did you learn nothing? Did you even practice?”

Is this all another lesson about just showing up and doing a terrible job and being happy with that? Again, it’s good to have a positive attitude, but that’s not going to save your GPA.

At Bex’s, Bowie sits Andi and Bex down for a new surprise.

That’s right. Another plank!

Bowie probably should’ve learned to get everyone on board with his decision first before committing to a plank. That “The Quinns” plank is basically expensive firewood at this point.

But Bowie wins Andi and Bex over with this one.

And the news that he intends to take the Mack last name. It really was a foregone conclusion. Doesn’t he know what show he’s on? It’s called Andi Mack, not Andi Quinn. There’s already all tons of merchandise. What are you going to do, render that stuff worthless? Pfft. Good luck going up against the Disney Corporation’s profits, bud.

Bex wants to know if he’s sure he wants to be a Mack, and deal with all of the things that come with being a Mack. But Bowie’s in.

So, the Quinn names dies with Cookie. Long live the Quinns.

At school, Buffy takes out her phone and makes a call. The person on the other end of the line picks up. Buffy’s like, hey, last time I saw you, I don’t think I handled things very well and can we please meet up to talk?

And who’s on the other end of the call?

This guy!

Oh, who is this guy again? God, it’s on the tip of my tongue. It was a weird name. The kind of name they stopped giving babies in the 1950s.

I wanna say Harry? Ronny? Ralph? Was it Ralph? I feel like there was a Y in there.

Let’s just call him Not Walker for now until I can dig through the Andi Mack wiki for answers.

[sammyspreadyourwings]

Poly!Queen prompt? :)

It was during a small thunderstorm when Brian heard the pitiful meowing outside of his bedroom window, turns out that there’s a black cat wandering on the balcony all dripping wet; Seeing this Brian quickly brought it in and wrapped it up with fluffy towels to keep it warm. The cat purred and stayed the night but in the next morning it’s gone, much to Brian’s chagrin. A few nights later there’s the familiar meowing in the same spot again and to his surprise, the cat returned and this time it brought two more of its friends along, one with darker brown fur and one with lighter color fur akin golden. They proceed to make themselves at home immediately as if they own this place and Brian’s not exactly complaining since they’re all so cute and weirdly well behaved. Sometimes it feels like they can actually understand what he’s saying. The cats also insist on sleeping with him in his bed and refuse to be deterred by any means so it becomes a common thing to wake up with three cats cuddling him; It’s a very lovely feeling for most of the time but sometimes he gets really embarrassed when he wakes up with morning wood, arousal simmering hot and heavy and perhaps he’s over-thinking this but whenever that happens, he always finds himself facing “meaningful” stares from his three cats and their lingering glances follow him all the way as he excuse himself to the bathroom, as if he’s prey. About a month after he’s “claimed” by the cats (he gets the distinct feeling that it’s actually them owning him and not the other way around), Brian ran into his ex-boyfriend while shopping for groceries and it dredged up buried old feelings, but not the pleasant kind. He bought alcohol, got home, plopped down onto his bed and got so drunk that while all cats gather to huddle with him, he may or may not have cried and start babbling about missing being loved and cared for and the intimacy between partners. He eventually blacked out with the cats licking his face.

The following morning Brian totally freaks the heck out that when he wakes up, still drunk and disoriented, found that his cats are nowhere to be seen and instead there are three incredibly gorgeous man naked, on his bed, with him, all bearing way too much resemblance to his three cats. On top of that, apparently they’re currently in the process of undressing him. The way that they’re licking their lips and staring at him with such hunger as if they want nothing more than to devour him has Brian weak in the knees and wanting to bare his throat to them instinctively.

I didn’t write the smut, and there are a few reasons for that and I think this turned out nice either way? So hopefully you’ll enjoy!!

🌠🌠

Brian tosses the newspaper into the recycling bin. As usual the rain surprises him, despite having lived in England his entire life. Before he shuts the door, he hears a soft noise. He frowns and turns around, peering enough outside of the door to keep dry. Yellow flashes at him.

“Mrow.”

“I’ll be right back,” Brian rushes to the bathroom to pull out the fluffiest (but oldest) towel he could find before rushing back to the front door.

The cat has leaped down from the window sill onto the porch. He wraps the towel around the sopping wet thing. Brian kicks the door shut while cradling the cat in his arms.

“Hush, you poor thing,” Brian coos.

He wanders into the kitchen and turns on the tap for warm water. Brian grabs the first clean bowl he can find and sets it down on the ground. The cat, despite being stray seems content in curling up in his arms while he moves around.

Once he’s got a bowl of water he quickly runs the towel over the cat, warming up its shivering body.

“There you are,” Brian sets it down, “I’m going to make a bed for you near the heater, hm?”

The cat flicks its tail in understand. Brian leaves it to the water before grabbing the one box he hasn’t broken down yet and grabbing a few more old towels. A safe distance away from the heater, he admires his work.

“Well you’ve got a bed.”

The cat looks up from the water. It really is beautiful, sleek black fur well maintained for a stray. Dark brown eyes stare at him before blinking slowly.

“That means you like me?”

He opens his fridge and frowns. Brian moves over to his cabinet where to his great relief there’s a single can of tuna. It probably isn’t the best thing to give the cat, but the poor thing is starving.

He drops it in a second bowl and sets it down to the food. Brian scoops the cat up, who happily climbs up him and around his neck.

“This is your bed,” Brian crouches.

The cat purrs.

“Okay, let’s get you back to your dinner.”

“Mrow!”

Brian watches the cat devour the tuna. He smiles when it looks up and licks its lips.

“Night.”

When Brian wakes up the cat is gone. He tries to not be so disappointed; it was a stray (likely dumped as a kitten) looking to get out of the rain. It had been nice, though to have something to talk to, even for a little bit. Maybe he should adopt a cat? Surely the shelter will have one that he gets along with.

😺😺😺

Saturday morning he’s woken by something scratching at his window. He’s confused for a moment before he realizes he fell asleep while playing. Brian sets the guitar in her stand, before wandering to the window to see what had woken him up.

It’s not even half six.

He pushes open the window only to jump back in surprise when a black blur jumps in.

“You’re back,” Brian crouches to stroke the cat under its chin.

A second blur jumps in. This one a magnificent gold, it’s hair matted in some places. It trots up to him and weaves between his legs. Brian pets it, trying to avoid the mats. Hopefully they won’t have to shave it.

The black one jumps back on the window, “Mrow!”

A third one jumps up. It looks younger than the other two. This one is dark brown with medium length hair and tiny white markings that make it look like booties.

“Had to convince your friends?” Brian asks the black one.

It blinks.

“Well, I suppose if you’ll have me, I’ll have you  three.”

The black cat resumes its spot around his neck. The yellow one almost seems as though it's pouting, and unsurprisingly the brown one is sniffing away from him and at the box.

“We’ll go, well, I’ll go supplies shopping for you three, but let’s see if we can’t find a vet open on Saturday.”

The black cat flexes its claws into his shoulder.

“Not that I think you’re carrying anything,” Brian soothes, “but I’d rather not risk it. Plus I think a stranger looking at your bits will make everyone more comfortable.”

He must think of names for them.

There is a singular vet clinic in his part of town that opens at eight. Brian has a strange moment of trying to figure out how to get them all into the car and clinic without the mayhem three cats could cause.

Does he still have the dog kennel that his ex left?

😺😺😺

Brian quickly grows accustomed to his three little supernovas. The vet had put him on the spot for names, and so his boys had been stuck with the first thing he could think of. Cosmos takes up his job of being Brian’s neck warmer, flicking his tail in Brian’s face every so often when he needs a break. Helios frequently makes a nuisance of himself, knocking things off desks or tables when he’s been ignored.

Usually Brian must brush him to get him to stop before he escalates to glass things.

Finally, Umbra takes up residence on his lap most of the day before growing bored and napping elsewhere.

Needless to say, Brian’s gotten used to cat hair in places it shouldn’t be and his boys clinging to him all hours that he’s home. Yelling at him when as soon as he gets home from lecturing or playing with his old band. Then proceeding to spend the rest of the day, just out of reach like they’re playing hard to get.

“Fine, don’t love me. See if you get a snack after dinner.”

That usually gets them to come around.

The one thing that he can’t adjust to is touching himself with the cats in the room. Since they run his house now, he struggles to kick him out of his bedroom. Otherwise they just watch him try to calm down his morning wood with almost smug looks on their faces.

“I could cut your balls off,” he grouses before loudly slamming the door to the bathroom.

Sure enough, there are two loud yells from the outside and a tiny white foot poking under the door.

“Fifteen minutes! I swear. Then you’ll get your breakfast!”

As he said, he’s not touching himself with the cats in earshot and resigns himself to cold showers those mornings.

😺😺😺

Thing progress like that for a month. Brian busies himself with his work and writing songs no one will here and playing with his cats. He doesn’t realize how lonely he is until he bumps into Chrissie at a music festival. She’s with her fiancé, judging by the impressive diamond on her finger, and the fact she looks more than a little pregnant.

“Brian May?”

“Chrissie! Hello, dear, how are you?”

“Wonderful!” They kiss each other on the cheek in greeting.

“How about yourself, still enjoying that paper avalanche you call an office?”

Brian grins, “well, you’ll be happy to know summer has come.”

“Did they fall over and the janitor gave up?”

“More like I gave up. Scanned everything and put it on a flash drive.”

Chrissie laughs, “I knew you’d listen eventually. You know, we’re going to be having a baby shower in, oh, what’s the date sweetie?”

Chrissie fiancé, who looks pleasant enough (so he trusts Chrissie or she hasn’t mentioned Brian as her ex), pauses, “I think two weeks from Sunday?”

“Ah yes. Do you still at the flat on Warren?”

Brian nods, “yes.”

“I’ll send you a card. I do hope you show,” Chrissie winks, “I have some friends who are exactly your type.” Brian wonders if she meant the women he used to go after or the men he is now actively pursuing. Or would be, if he went out.

“Thanks!”

Chrissie smiles at him, before grasping her fiance’s hand, “oh, Brian this is Richard, Richard this is Brian.”

“Pleasure,” Brian extends his hand.

“Charmed.”

Brian leaves the festival shortly after that, but not before he slips into a nearby liquor store and buys three of the biggest bottles of “get drunk quick!” alcohol. The clerk looks at him with a frown.

“Having a party,” Brian supplies.

A pity party with his cats. Truly. He’s peaked and he’s not even thirty.

As expected, Helios yowls (more like screeches) as soon as he crosses the barrier. He hears the jingle of Umbra’s collar and Cosmos stretches as he stands from where he was sunning himself. Brian sends the boys a grin but wanders into the kitchen. He makes sure to serve out the proper portions and refill their main water.

Cosmos stretches up his leg, wanting to be picked up. Helios jumps up on the counter, Brian promptly sets him on the ground but that’s when Cosmos attempts to claim his spot.

“Sorry, boys, I’m not in the mood for cuddling tonight.”

“Brrow?”

He flicks his eyes down to Umbra who is staring at him with judgmental eyes.

“I’m an adult you know.”

Brian drops Cosmos on top of Helios (gently), which causes a tiny disgruntled scuffle. It’s enough for him to fill the first shot glass and knock it back. He doesn’t wait for the burn to disappear before he’s knocking back the second.

By the time he’s on his third, the boys have gotten themselves straightened out. Brian is already feeling the heat rush to his cheeks. Not trusting himself (and there’s no one else in the house) he grabs the open bottle as he sways to the living room.

He pulls from the bottle directly clutching the neck tightly. By the time the bottle is a quarter of the way gone, he feels all of his anxiety melt away. Brian sips again.

This time Helios jumps on his chest, looking annoyed at the bottle.

“Can’t have any kitty.”

“Brru.”

He takes another sip. Umbra scratches his hand. Brian drops the bottle. It rattles but doesn’t tip over. He cradles his scratched hand and the tears start coming.

“Even my cats don’t love me,” he whines pitifully.

Cosmos curls up on his shoulder.

“I’m going to die alone, and not even my cats will care.”

Umbra looks guilty and Helios seems offended. Great. Now he’s projecting feelings on to felines.

“I thought that I’d always have you three. Well until you die because cats don’t live as long as humans.”

Which sends him into another fit of tears. Helios lays across his face.

“Please suffocate me.”

“Brru.”

Umbra jumps up and stretches across his lower stomach. Brian sniffles and reaches for the bottle. His fingers wrap around it and he has a second of confusion as he tries to figure out how to drink around the cat.

He manages by pushing Helios to his neck. It does make him choke, but he gets another pull from the bottle. Drinking any more than this is going to give him alcohol poisoning, and he seriously doubts that his cats are going to be able to figure out enough to not let him choke on his own vomit.

“God, I wish someone would love me.”

😺😺😺

Brian wakes up to three very naked men panicking in his living room. It’s dark outside and he decides that he is both too early and too drunk to deal with this.

😺😺😺

When he wakes up the second time. A throbbing headache, but pills and water in reach he figures he must’ve hallucinated the men. At some point he must’ve stumbled to the bathroom to make sure his morning is somewhat tolerable.

Way to go past him.

Brian opens his eyes fully, and much to his surprise there are still three men in his living room. This time they aren’t naked. They are in his clothes though. He hopes they shut the door so the cats don’t get out.

“Where are my cats?”

“Funny story,” the dark-haired one says.

“We’re your cats. Well. We weren’t actually cats? Actually, we are but not really?”

Brian blinks at the blond, “what?”

“Do you believe in magic?” The dark-haired one says.

“No.”

“Oh. Well.”

“That’s fair,” the brunette says.

Brian looks between them all, wondering if he’s just having a fever dream.

The dark-haired one steps forward, “you see, these two slept with a witch and didn’t call her back, and I slept with her brother and didn’t call him back, and who knew witches were real?”

“And the curse?”

“Full moon,” the brunette says, “only true love’s kiss can break it, but every full moon we have a chance to break it.”

“Ah.”

Brian raises his eyes to the heavens. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about this.

“What are your names?”

The three blink at him in surprise.

“Human names,” Brian says, “I’m sure you don’t want me calling you the names I’ve given you for the rest of your time here.” Because obviously they’re going to leave him. Just like everyone else does. Brian bites back the tears and waits for his answer.

“I’m Freddie,” the dark-haired one says, “Cosmos, as you like to call me.”

“Roger!” The blond chirps, “or Helios.”

Brian turns towards the brunette, “so you’re Umbra?”

“Or John.”

“Do you want breakfast? That doesn’t come from a tin?”

The three nod excitedly. Brian shrugs. At least he’ll have company for the day. Maybe this really is a dream, it’s a good one, so he might as well enjoy it while it lasts.