#another new year post and it's belated lol but oh well

[striveattemptfail]

ちょっと遅いですけど。。。。旧正月おめでとうございます@/hnhr_mgr 先生🐰🎊 寒いです！🥶

[Trans:] It's a bit late but....Happy Chinese New Year, Hinohara Sensei 🐰🎊 It's cold! 🥶 [ 🐦 via twt ]

i know japan doesnt celebrate lunar new year but IT'S THE YEAR OF THE BUNNY SO SHOUHEI NEEDS SOME EXTRA LOVE 🥺🥺

[chouxsardine]

The Lucky Ones -- Danny Wagner x reader

Summary: Does superstition still work its magic when it comes to love? --a spontaneous new year tradition leads to confessions between you and Danny

Pairing: Daniel Wagner x reader

Word Count: 3229

Warnings: mention of alcohol, cussing, superstitions, slight allusion to previous abusive relationship, insecurity

Genre: fluff, COTTON-CANDY-GRAPE LEVEL OF SWEETNESS, friends to lovers

Author's note: Here is a VERY LATE Danny's Birthday/New year fic and also my first time writing Danny! Inspired by the viral tiktok trend about amusing new year traditions. I find them very interesting. I wish everyone a belated happy new year and all the best wishes. Please enjoy :))

🎧: The Lucky Ones by Lana Del Rey (by now titles from song is canon lol I'm so sorry)

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You have always been a superstitious person, not religious, not believing in magic or the supernatural, just superstitious. Yes, you do believe ghosts exists, and you try to cover your eyes and ears when watching horror films. You hold awe and veneration for some “higher power” like your primitive ancestors. Since childhood, you have always been meticulous about the details, from the direction in which your slippers are pointing at when you take them off before bed to what to eat for breakfast the day of your school theatre showcase. Growing up, many people misunderstood your behavior as symptoms of OCD, but only you know that it is merely the result of your obsession with coincidences and the compulsion to recreate the happiness they have brought to your life; far from being diagnosed as an disorder.

You are going to spent the New Year’s Eve with Danny. You have known each other since you were little kids and have been best friends for over two decades. Friends and families have been teasing you two about being together, and almost everyone thought at least one of you was going to make a move during Christmas. But, alas, nothing happened as the days passed, and here you are, about to draw an end to another year of your friendship. Your feelings for Danny have certainly have developed beyond just platonic level, but you also didn’t want to ruin the precious friendship you have built throughout the years. Plus, you have to admit that you are waiting for a sign. Ah, yes, it is your superstition at work—you believe that there will be an omen indicating the time is ripe to confess your true feelings for Danny. It is not very often that he gets a break from touring and returns home. For now, you just want to be close to him, spend quality time together, and create more memories.

It is safe to say that you nearly jumped off the couch when you saw the trend about “eating twelve grapes under the table at midnight of New Year’s Day for good luck.” How are you only seeing this the afternoon of December 31st? You are already at Danny’s, and the only food you brought over is your renowned passion fruit cheesecake.

“Danny? Do you have any grapes left?”

“What?” Danny yells back from downstairs.

“Do we have any grapes?” You look around the room. The fruit bowl on the counter is filled with limes, which are for making margaritas later. Oh, you should have known better.

“I don’t think so. Do frosted grapes count?” Danny enters the living room and opens the fridge door.

You watch expectantly as Danny opens the freezer section. To your disappointment, there are only five freezer-burned round objects that could hardly be identified as grapes huddled together in a ziplock bag.

“What’s wrong, y/n? Suddenly craving some grapes?” Danny asks amusingly.

“No…well, yes,” You defeatedly close the fridge door and show Danny the post you just read. “It says you’re supposed to eat grapes for good luck.”

“Hum…”Danny’s eyebrows knit in concentration as he skims the article. “I think grocery stores are still open today.”

That’s the thing about Danny. Although you try to hide your superstitious behavior from others, you are never afraid to be yourself in front of him. Instead of thinking you are weird or childish, Danny finds your “little rituals” cute and endearing. He never presses on with questions, which only makes you more willing to explain them to him. And Danny is one hell of a listener.

Nothing compares to the last grocery run of the year. Maybe last-minute Christmas shopping comes in a close second. You are prepared for sensory overload when you see the preoccupied parking lot.

“Looks like everyone forgot something for their dinner,” Danny pulls open the passenger’s side door. Panic suddenly struck you.

“What if everyone has read about it and grapes were sold out?”

“I guess we will find out in a minute.”

Your worries almost became reality. There were only a few bags left on the fruit shelf, and they were obviously being picked over—from the plastic packaging, you saw a few were squished and watery, the ones near the bottom looked withered and brown. But you were positive that you could knock together twenty-four grapes from them.

“I swear you’re my lucky star, Danny. I bet there would be none left if you didn’t come with me.” You sigh in relief as you put all the remaining three bags into the cart.

“That’s a lovely to hear, y/n. Anything else we need for auspiciousness?” Danny asks half-jokingly.

“Actually, we do!” You remember the title of the little pop-up link as you scrolled to the end of the article and saw it mentioned collard greens and black-eyed peas.

Collard greens were easy to find; the panic threatened to twist your stomach again when you didn’t see any canned black-eyed beans.

“Kidney beans…chickpeas…romano…lentils….” Your eyes move fast down each row. “They only have bags of dry beans and we don’t have time to soak and boil them!”

Danny is scanning the label with you until he reaches to the top shelf and grabs a can of mixed beans.

“Look, there’s black-eyed peas in mixed beans. We can just pick them out,” Danny suggests.

“Oh my god, that’s genius!” You perk up immediately.

“Just making good use of my height advantage, I guess,” Danny beams.

On the way home, you are humming along to Queens playing in the radio and clutching the grocery bag containing a bundle of collard greens, a can of mixed beans, and three bags of grapes in your arms, as if you are taking home a puppy from the shelter. Danny couldn’t help but smile at your little expressions of contentment; he loves how you are always able to preserve the childlike innocence to appreciate all the tiny beautiful things.

As soon as you get back home, you dive into further research. By dinner, you had watched a dozen of different videos and five more articles about how exactly one should eat the grapes, answering your question of which colour grapes should you eat (both are fine, and you made sure to buy both red and green ones), whether you should eat them at the countdown to the new year or the first minute of the new year (the latter) , and whether you should sit under a table while eating it (answers vary on this one, but you decided to do it under the table anyways).

Danny is washing the grapes at the kitchen sink.

“Y/n, do you want to pick out the twelve you’re gonna eat?” He asks as he drains them in the strainer basket.

“Oh yes! Thanks for washing them, Dan,” You scamper over. Danny looks so cozy and relaxed in his sweater. His curls tied back into a small pony tail, a few stubborn strands framing his face. The hot, attractive drummer on stage that has the fans screaming and swooning is so different from the huggable human-sized teddy bear that you get to see a lot more often, but it still has the little girl inside you all rosy-cheeked and fluttered nonetheless. For a moment, you are lost appreciating his profile, his lips slightly pursed, long eyelashes casting shadows as he looks down in concentration. The grapes look delicate in between his strong and lean fingers.

“Y/n?”

You are pulled back from your thoughts and bump right into Danny’s mossy brown eyes staring at you. You feel your cheeks getting hotter. Is it still normal to feel the butterflies even after you’ve been friends for so long?

“You are doing this together with me, are you?” You ask as you hold up two grapes to the light, turning and inspecting them as a gemologist. You never wanted to push your own habits and rituals onto others. You have learned from that mistake in past relationships and have since been careful about not coming across as the superstitious version of the lunatic “horse girl”. Although Danny has been considerably supportive about this—buying the grapes with you, coming up the clever solution with the beans, and now this grown ass man is leaning over the kitchen counter and being the judge of a “grape beauty pageant” —the insecurity deep down still peeks around the corner.

“Of course, my dear. I wouldn’t say no to some good luck for the new year.” You can tell Danny’s smile is genuine. Upon seeing the curve of his lips, you could heard the bubbles of second thoughts in your mind popping.

“Look, we even got the cotton candy kind of grapes, those are your favourite.” Danny holds up a bunch of particularly green and shiny grapes.

You almost let out a chirp at the sight of it. You must’ve ignored the label as you hurriedly picked them up at the store. As the name suggested, they do taste like cotton candy. When your teeth break open the skin, the juices are like pure honey pouring down your throat. “And they make the best frosted grapes too!”

“You’re right. We can make another batch with the left overs to ‘replenish our frosted grapes arsenal’.”

You feel a warm, tingling sensation on your palms. Itchy palms are a good sign, right?

Half an hour to the new year, you have already situated yourself under the bar table in the kitchen, the only table in the entire house that is high and spacious enough for two grown adults to crouch under.

“Mind your head!” You extend your hand to pad the underside of the table as Danny gets down on his knees and scoots next to you, almost bumping his head.

“Ooops, close call,” Danny sat down cross-legged. “You know what, I just realized my house probably wasn’t the safest if there was an earthquake or something.”

“Shhh….Danny!” Out of your superstitious habit, you immediately put your fingers on his lips to shush him without much thinking. “Knock on wood!”

Danny pliantly knocks three times on the table above his head, laughgin at your seriousness.

You withdraw your hand, the softness of his lips lingering on your finger tips. “I don’t think this little table is going to do much anyway if it really comes to that,” you said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

The phrase came out his mouth so naturally, without a single second of hesitation. It transported back you into the time in kindergarten when you were pushed aside while waiting for you turn to play on the slide, you looked up through tear-blurred vision; the time when you were on a camping trip and you were nervous about stepping off from the canoe onto the river bank; the time in the scary escape room where your palms were all sweaty and your teeth were biting your bottom lip so hard that it almost drew blood…all these times, there were always a pair of steady hands beside you and a calming voice saying, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You quickly blink a few times, getting back to reality and focusing on the two plates in front of you. It must looked like the weirdest “Girl Dinner”—a forkful of boiled collard greens, one tablespoon of black-eyed peas rinsed and drained straight out of the can, and twelve grapes (six green and six red).

“Okay, enlighten me on how to do this,” Daniel asks.

“So I looked into it a bit more. We are supposed to eat each grape along with each chime of the clock once it strikes twelve, but realistically I don’t think anyone can do that without choking, so we just have to make sure we finish all of them by 12:01. Then we eat the veggies and the beans.”

“Uh-huh, weird combinations,” Daniel muses.

“I know. That’s why I got us champagne afterwards to wash it all down.” You point to the two glasses not very far from you.

“Damn. All teed up.”

“Oh I almost forgot! One more very important thing: you are supposed to think about the wishes for the new year as you eat the grapes, one for each month!”

Your palms grew slimy again as your eyes glued to the counting down on the phone screen.

“Oh my gosh, Danny we are doing this…six, five, four, three, two, one!”

You close your eyes and start popping grapes into your mouth one by one. The excitement and adrenaline crush down the twelve preformed coherent wishes in your mind into word soup. Apart from the recurring ones like “health,” “safety,” and “happiness,” the letters spelled “Danny” again and again. Wishing Danny to stay happy and healthy, luck and success for the band and touring, hoping you get to see Danny more, spend more time with Danny, be with Danny….

You swallow down the last bite of your grapes as you open your eyes. You see Danny looking at you, smiling, his cheeks still puffed like a hamster from chewing. There is something magical about seeing the person you wished for right there the moment you open your eyes. It is like seeing the fairy godmother popping up on your birthday cake after blowing out the candles. You giggle as you both devour the greens and the beans, and your glasses clink together as you gulp down the champagne, releasing the satisfied “ahhh” exhale afterward.

“Oh wow.” You hold up the phone. The both of you watch as the seconds tick to 00 and the minutes change from 0 to 1.

“Happy New Year, Y/n.”

“Happy New Year, Danny.”

You two still sit in the not-so-comfortable position under the table, listening to the echoes of the chimes and the sound of fireworks in the distance, savouring the imaginary freshness of the new year, taking it all in like sniffling the smell of ink on the crispy pages of brand new books. Suddenly, you feel the warm feeling slipping away from you, as if visualizing a red line dropping on a thermometer. You don’t know if it’s the sight of the empty dishes and glasses or the adrenaline ebbing away, you aren’t prepared for the previously tamed insecurity to suddenly resurface. The aftertaste of the grapes turned sour in your mouth and made your skin crawl.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Sensing the change in your mood, Danny turns to you, immediately finding your hands and soothingly brushing circles on your palm with his thumb.

“Danny, are all these…am I…too much?” Your voice are incredibly quiet, fearing it will break. Before Danny can answer, you continue, “do you think this is too….childish and crazy?”

“Okay, y/n, take a deep breath,” you felt the warmness of Danny’s hands steady on either side of your cheek, grounding you in his loving gaze and gentle touch, “you’re not going to cry on New Year’s Day, that’s not good.”

You take in a shaky breathe, trying your best to ease the stinging feeling in your eyes as the tears threatened to spill.

“Good girl. Now, talk to me. What happened? Why are you sad all of a sudden?”

“Danny, I just felt like…” you are plagued by the flashback of the hurtful words of your ex, it still stings as you recite them, “I need to grow up and quit these stupid superstitious nonsense, quit fooling around like a five-year-old…and, and treating everyone around me like one!” You inhale deeply again to regulate your breathing.

“No, y/n. Look at me, and listen.”

“You don’t make eye contact with the microwave timer when it’s has 13 seconds remaining. You always try your best not to step on cracks on the pavement, which makes you sometimes do those goofy strides. You always visit every wishing well in the cities we travel to.”

Your eyes widens as Danny recounts each of your weird little habits chapter and verse. Wait, he remembered all of them?

“I don’t give a fuck what other people have said about them, and I wish you don’t either.” Danny always tries not to swear in front of you, so you know he really means it when he pulls out those words.

“They are what makes you…you. They are an essential part of being y/n, and that’s important. You should never second-guess or change yourself just because some asshole yaps about it. Remember that one time you told me you always cling on superstitions because you feel like good things don’t often happen to you in life, so when they do, you want to remember the way they come and try to make sure they visit the next time?”

You nod, your heart melting.

“Hearing that breaks my heart, y/n, because I think you deserve all the good things in life. It’s my wish that in the new year, this beautiful, kind, and wonderful girl in front of me will stay away from toxic people, keep the people that love and cherish her close, and always prioritize her own well-being.”

“My wish and my luck is seeing you be happy, you know that? I’m the luckiest man in the world when my girl is the happiest.”

“Danny…” You lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a few seconds to savour the moment. You feel like an air ballon fueled by the love in your heart, free and fearless.

“I really like you, y/n,” he said, “as a friend and more than a friend.”

“I like you too, Danny. My feelings are mutual.” The words automatically fall out your lips, as if they have been prepared for this moment for years.

“Yeah? You know what my other wishes are? I hope y/n can be my girlfriend. I want to prove to her how lucky and deserving she is of all the good things.” He is looking at you as if you are the most precious being in the whole world, and in this moment, you truly are.

“I think…I can make that wish come true.” You say timidly, your hands also cupping his jaw. You can feel the pulse on his neck, eager and quick.

“You know it’s also good luck to kiss loved ones on new year’s day, right?” He whispers as he draws your chin to pull you close. Without any hesitation, you attach your lips to his. The kiss is soft and loving, with the residual sweetness of cotton candy grapes.

Because you were closing your eyes and making your wish, little did you know, Danny was watching you every time he popped a grape into his mouth. Every wish he whispered silently in his heart is related to you. He hoped that you’d be by his side for all the twelve upcoming months. He would be the happiest man in the world if even one of your wishes included him.

It turned out that good things don’t always need a sign to happen. True love is always on the hunt; it may creep up on you or catch you by surprise, but either way, it will always find you in the end.

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Yeah! you made it! Thank you SO MUCH for reading :))

any comments and feedbacks are greatly welcomed and deeply appreciated

Do let me know if we want a tag list :D

Some more of my works: Mariner's Complex || Permission to Fall

Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word

[cadybear420]

Performance for fluffember🤍

The Voice of an Angel

Fandom: High School Story (Original Trilogy)

Pairings: Aiden Zhou x Evie Ayana (female HSS MC), maybe with a small side of Ajay Bhandari x Cher Lee (female HSS:CA MC)

Characters: Aiden Zhou, Evie Ayana (female HSS MC)

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Fluff, Singing, Performance, Dancing

Word Count: 2,128

Summary: On Evie’s 18th birthday, Aiden and the jazz band whip up a little surprise for her. Takes place approximately between HSS:CA 2 and HSS:CA 3 (though my memory of the HSS:CA timeline is a little more fuzzy).

A/N: First of all: to the anon who sent the prompt, major apologies for sleeping on it for so long. Coming up with writing ideas is a bitch, but it is something I want to do more often. And there was also that one time when Tumblr turned off editing for answers to asks, which carried over to the draft post for this for a while. Second of all, I’m fucking obsessed with this song from Doctor Who (“My Angel Put the Devil in Me”, from the Series 3 soundtrack) and I think Evie and Aiden would be as well. Third of all, yes this is a belated birthday fic for Evie, but I’m glad to get it out before the end of Evie’s birthday month at least. Also haha both Evie’s birthday this year and in the setting of the fic were on a Friday. Fourth of all, arghrghrargh my first time writing a fic where one character sings to another AND does a choreographed dance to it too. It’s a lot more difficult than I imagined lol. 

(Also, the outfit I imagine for the other jazz band kids)

Prompt: Performance

Source for prompts here. Even though it's long past November, I'll still accept prompt suggestions from this list year-round.

Tags: @inlocusmads @aces-and-angels @aria-ashryver @lover-also-fighter-also @jerzwriter @choicesmc @3rdstreetfrank @dutifullynuttywitch @lovealexhunt @lilyoffandoms @peonierose (as this is the complete version of this WIP and this challenge bit), and @choicesficwriterscreations

Friday, March 8, 2019. The day of Evie’s 18th birthday. She’d been planning to host a birthday party at one of her favorite restaurants in the city, starting in the early evening after school. Almost everyone she knew from school was invited. 

It was late in the afternoon now. Evie took one last look at herself in her new outfit– a navy blue suit with a purple floral necktie– and grinned, before dashing to the living room. There, her dad was checking his phone. 

“Alright, I’m ready to go!” she said. 

He turned to her. “Actually… we can’t leave just yet…”

She pouted. “What??? But Daaaad, the party starts at 5 PM and it’s already 4:45!”

“The people doing the decorations are… taking a bit longer than expected.”

“Oh…”

“It’s a bit awkward to go to a party when they’re still putting decorations up, isn’t it?”

“That’s true,” her face softened. “Do the other guests know?”

“...yep! I’ve just told them, in fact.”

“Okay… but how long do we have to wait?”

“Shouldn’t be more than… ten to twenty minutes?”

Evie pouted again. 

“It’s not that long…”

“Okay, fiiiiine, I’ll be patient…”

“And I’ll be doctor!”

Evie winced. “Dad, NO…”

…

About twenty minutes passed, and then finally, her dad said it was okay to start driving to the restaurant. After a fifteen minute drive, they arrived, and Evie wasted no time going in. 

The room was alive with upbeat music, purple decorative lights and flowers, and many of Evie’s friends. It seemed like just about everyone she’d invited had shown up– her main friend group, her teammates, her friends from the other cliques and Hearst, Cher and her friends from theatre, the seniors from last year who hadn’t gone away for college… 

And all of them greeted her with a big “Happy birthday, Evie!!!”, in unison. 

Evie inhaled, beaming at her friends. Many of them ran over to hug her, a few others cheered for her. 

Then she saw Emma and Cher push their way through the crowd and grab her by her arms. 

“Evie! There’s a special surprise for you, right now!” said Cher. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” said Emma. “Just come with us…” 

The crowd parted, making way for Emma and Cher to pull Evie to the opposite side of the room. As they did, the party music slowly faded out and the lights began to dim. 

“What the–” Evie started. 

“Shhhh. You’ll see soon enough!” Emma replied. 

When they made it to the opposite end of the room, a warm spotlight turned on over her, and there she saw it. The jazz band, all set up with their instruments and dressed in matching snazzy black-and-red suits and… devil horns? Yes, devil horns. 

And at the front of it all… was none other than her beautiful boyfriend Aiden, all dressed up and holding a microphone. 

Evie just about stopped in her tracks as she took in his outfit– a snug, ivory-colored flapper dress that had silver beads sewn into intricate patterns, and hung just barely above his knees. Along with that, he also wore a couple of matching long pearl necklaces, a fluffy white halo accessory over his head, and winged eyeliner.

“Wow…” Evie felt her breath catch. “Aiden, you look–”

Just then, Aiden signaled to the band… and they started to play. 

Evie grinned broadly, her eyes immediately lighting up at the familiar upbeat jazzy tune, and watched intently as her boyfriend danced towards her, in steps that were careful and rhythmic, yet lively. 

Then the tempo slowed, and he held the microphone to his mouth and began to sing. 

“I'm a country girl, I ain't seen a lot… But you came along, and my heart went pop! You took a little streetcar to my heart… And an apple of love fell off my apple cart~”

Evie’s cheeks flustered at his melodious voice. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard him sing– he’s sung to her plenty of times, and they’d practically been doing Evie-Aiden duets since the day they met. But this… this was different. Aiden had never done a solo singing performance for her before, let alone one that involved a bit of dance as well. 

“You looked at me, my heart began to pound… You weren't the sort of guy I thought would stick around… Hey, but it don't have to be eternally… My bad, bad Angel put the Devil in me~”

And his singing voice was all the more different this time around too. Even later into their relationship, as Aiden had become more confident about his singing, there was always still a hint of nervousness in his voice when they sang their duets. But this time, he sang loud and clear. Like he was owning the stage. 

Aiden performed a small twirl before stopping, his eyes meeting hers as he began slowly walking up to her, making her heart jump a little.

“You lured me in with your cold grey eyes… Your simple smile, your bewitching lies…”

As he sang that verse, he reached out and grabbed onto her bright purple tie, making Evie’s face heat up as he began tugging on it gently and pulling her closer to him. 

“One and one and one is three… My bad, bad Angel… the Devil in me~!”

The tempo picked up again. Aiden let go of her tie and took her hand in his as he broke out into energetic dance movements while still singing the lyrics to the song, the skirt of his dress swishing about as he swayed gracefully to the instrumental music. 

Evie squeezed his hand and matched his movements, her pulse racing now.  All the while, the crowd watched with excitement. When they came face-to-face again, she was giving him an almost drunken smile.

Soon enough, Aiden broke from her hold and turned around, sashaying slightly as he started stepping away from her… before looking over his shoulder, catching her gaze once again. 

“My bad, bad Angel~ you put the Devil in me~”

Aiden shook his butt side-to-side to the beat, giving Evie a knowing look that made her cheeks brighten. The music slowed, and he turned around to face her again. 

“So, now my dear, I ain't the girl you knew… 'Cause the Angel's got Heaven, but I get you…”

He sauntered back up to her.

“And the tree of life grows tall, you see… My bad, bad Angel… you put the Devil in me~!”

The beat slowed to a more gentle, relaxed tune as Aiden placed his arm over Evie’s shoulder. 

“Oh… You put the Devil in me~”

Aiden gestured towards Evie’s arm, and she placed her arms around him, taking hold of his waist as they began to rock together. 

“You put the Devil in me…”

Gently and smoothly, Aiden broke out of her hold and took her hand again. Lifting her hand, he twirled himself under her arm, then placed himself backwards against her body– all without missing a beat. 

As Aiden continued to sing, Evie wrapped both of her arms around his middle, embracing him from behind. Aiden pressed back against her and placed his free arm over hers, almost as if to hold her arms in place, as they began to sway side-to-side together again. Evie practically melted into him, his body warm against hers. 

“You put the Devil in me…”

Then, the song picked up again. 

“You put the Devil in… me~!”

He swiftly yet carefully broke from her hold again, and danced in a circle around her as he sang the last few verses of the song. She turned to follow him, their eyes locked onto each other yet again, as he gave her an almost sultry gaze. 

“My bad, bad Angel, you put the Devil in me!”

At the final note, the lights slowly faded back on. Aiden stood in front of the now cheering crowd and took a huge bow, grinning proudly. 

Once he straightened back up, Evie finally let out a high pitched “EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”, bouncing up and down before leaping onto Aiden, sweeping him up into her arms, and spinning him around. Aiden gasped, dropping his microphone with a loud *thunk*– but then quickly held her face in his hand and pulled her in for a passionate kiss, prompting the crowd to cheer louder. 

After a moment, Aiden broke the kiss. “Happy eighteenth birthday, Darling~”

Evie squeezed him tighter. “Aiden, that was…” She took a deep breath, a starstruck look in her eyes. “Your singing is amazing… I mean, I’ve heard you sing before, obviously, but…”

A slight but visible rosy tint grew on his cheeks. 

“But I’ve never done a singing performance for you, I know. I figured it was about time I did.”

“And you were fucking amazing. I’ve never heard you sing like that before… like, you were already good, but I didn’t know you were this good…”

“I mean… practice makes perfect, after all…”

“That’s true…”

He planted a small kiss onto her lips, making her whole body warm up. 

“And what made you choose that song from Doctor Who for your first performance? I mean, obviously I love the song–”

“That’s just it. I know how much you love the song, and the episodes it came from.” He chuckled softly. “And, I mean… I don’t blame you. It is a fantastic song.”

Evie’s smile grew wider. “God, Aiden… I fucking love you.”

“I love you too, Evie.” 

They pulled each other in for one more kiss, holding each other tightly, before she set him down. 

“And I love your outfit too… you look absolutely gorgeous, as always~”

Even as Aiden beamed at her so brightly, his cheeks turned as red as the other band members’ devil costumes, prompting Evie to giggle.

“Well… I have been having a lot of fun trying on new outfits…” he said, softly. 

At that moment, Ajay and Cher popped up beside them. 

“Hey… if Aiden likes singing, dancing, and dressing up in fancy outfits now… you think we could convince him to join the upcoming spring musical?” Ajay said. “His talent would just be unmatched…”

Evie and Aiden turned towards them. 

“The next play’s gonna be a musical?” Evie said. “I’ve been wanting to act in a play, but, uh… I don’t think I’m ready for one that involves singing…”

Aiden raised an eyebrow at her. “But we’ve literally been doing duets ever since–”

“That’s different. I can sing alright when it’s more casual, but in a professional musical performance? I’m not that good.”

“You should still consider it!” Cher chirped. “If not an acting role, you can always still be an assistant director or a techie…”

“That sounds much more my speed.”

Cher turned to Aiden. “You should definitely consider trying out for a singing role, though!”

Aiden put his hand on his chin thoughtfully. “It could be fun… I know Evie doesn’t want to sing in a musical, but imagine if we got lead roles together…”

“Oh, perhaps I could be convinced now…” Evie said, before smirking playfully. “But, let’s be real. Put Aiden in the musical, and he’ll probably just upstage all the other singers with how good he is. He’ll make everyone else look like chumps.”

“Hey!” Cher exclaimed, her face scrunching up into a pout. “Are you saying I sing like a chump?”

“What– no, I–” Evie’s face fell. 

Cher dropped her pout and grinned again. “Kidding! You probably have a point… I do sing every now and then, but it could use a little more work. Especially since I’m planning to go for an acting role in the musical, of course.”

“Well, if we can’t get Aiden in a singing role for the musical, perhaps he can be a musical director and help coach the actors who are a little more inexperienced?” Ajay suggested. 

“Actually… that’s a great idea!” Aiden said, his face lighting up. “I’d love to do that!”

Ajay beamed. “Oh, perfect! We’ll talk to Mr. Olson on Monday.”

“I’ll need some time to think about it… but I’ll let you know if I do decide to accept.”

“Sounds good to me!” Ajay reached his hand out, and he and Aiden shook hands. “Anyways, great job on your performance, Aiden! And happy birthday, Evie!”

“Yeah! Happy birthday, Evie!!!” cheered Cher. 

“Aww, thank you both so much!” 

Evie gave each of them a warm hug before they walked off. Aiden placed his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek, and she turned back to him.

“Thank you so much, Aiden. For being the best boyfriend ever, and for giving me this awesome birthday.” 

“It’s my pleasure~” Aiden hugged her tighter. “But… there’s still more, of course. Ready to enjoy the rest of your birthday party?”

“Oh yes!”

[wartakes]

KD’s First Annual “Top 4 Nat Sec Things I’d Burn to the Ground if I Could” (OLD ESSAY)

This "essay" was first posted on February 3rd, 2021.

It's not really an essay to be honest but it was a belated listicle for the New Year because I was feeling very burnt out (not long after I posted this I'd start throttling back my output on the essays lol).

(Full essay below the cut)

I meant to do this piece to start off the new year, before certain events distracted me – and a lot of the country and the world, apparently. But the year is still only one month old, so I think we can comfortably call it pretty new. And as is customary in a new year, folks often make resolutions on things they wish to change or work harder on in the coming year, make wishes that they hope will come true, and generally hope for what might be better or different.

It is in that spirit I offer you my own contribution of a sort:

KD’s First Annual “4 Things in National Security That I’d Burn to the Ground if I Could.”

First, a clarifying note: No, these are not threats or calls to violent revolution. When I say “burn to the ground” I mean that in a purely metaphorical sense (though I’d still say burn down the physical structures in some cases because they may have bad juju left behind but I also say we should do that only after we’ve fired everyone and they can leave with their personal items. I shouldn’t have to explain all of this in a perfect world, but we live in far from a perfect world, so I’m going to err on the side of caution.  

A second note: Just because I think we should get rid of these things; doesn’t mean I don’t think we need something like them or a better version of them. In fact, I think all of these things are necessary for a country’s national defense in some shape or form. However, I think the version or versions we have of these organizations or institutions are so flawed and so beyond repair or reform at this point, that the only way that we can have anything resembling a positive version of them is to shut the existing one down and start over with a clean sheet of paper. I tend to have a similar attitude towards law enforcement, but that’s a story for another time (not fully a national security topic, but it might still cover it here if there’s any interest).

With those disclaimers and covering of my ass out of the way, let’s get on to the list:

U.S. Military Service Academies

Oh, the service academies. What distinguished graduates you have given us. From famous Civil War traitors, to rampant cheaters, to noted man of integrity and best Secretary of State of all time Mike Pompeo, and all manner of other leaders and elites – ranking from mediocre to downright awful – in between. Oh, to say nothing of all the sexual assaults the academy students mange to pack in between classes and the poisonous and harmful professional culture they perpetuate within the military’s officer corps.

But all that is ok apparently because sports ball. Sports ball, folks? Sports ball.

Now, is every graduate of a service academy an awful person? No. Are enough of them bad to justify just burning these institutions to ashes and starting anew? Yes. At least in my opinion. Is the pitiful excuse for a military leadership ethos that they instill in the officer corps bad enough to justify that as well? Very yes.

Though, the buildings themselves are nice. Maybe instead of burning the actual buildings down we should just shut the academies down and repurpose them as housing for homeless veterans, or for the refugees from the wars we’ve been waging in the Middle East for a good two decades now.

Oh, and we’ll let the Coast Guard keep their current one. They don’t really seem to be hurting anyone (as far as I know). Or the Merchant Marine, I guess. But West Point, Annapolis, and Colorado Springs? Pack your shit and move out. We’re shutting it down and starting over with something that doesn’t just churn as many rapists, cheaters, and traitors per capita and maybe creates officers who care about those under them and serving the people – not just the state. I dunno, we’ll figure out what officers and an officer culture should actually be like later – that’s an article within itself I need to write. I not only think the military still needs to exist, but we’re gonna still need officers. I feel running a military unit by committee and debate, Russian Revolution style, may not be the best idea in the world when it comes to modern warfare – especially when the bombs and the shells start falling.

Special Operations Forces

These guys are supposed to be masters of their craft in unconventional warfare, counterinsurgency, counterterrorism, and so on. Instead, the only thing they appear to be masters of is what we like to call in the biz: having a normal one.

And boy do current and former special operators ever have a normal one. Whether its spousal abuse, drug smuggling, attempting to carry out poorly planned coups in foreign countries, committing horrific war crimes in foreign countries – and then getting Presidential protection for it from Trump because he thought it should be more horrific, or just shooting up random civilians at bowling alleys here at home, nobody really compares in the skill of having a normal one like US SOF community. Really setting that bar high there, folks.

It’s always been hilarious to me that these guys are supposed to be elite badasses who supposedly make their enemies tremble in their boots and are just doing so much winning all the time – just constant winning. Yet, the wars in which they have been at the forefront of since they started, rage on with no real end in sight with them having accomplished virtually nothing except rack up the body count for all involved. If that isn’t a damming indictment of them being pretty much worthless in their current form, I really don’t know what is.

I say, shut it all down, send them all off to their second careers as Instagram influencers, and let’s go back to the drawing board. It’d give us a great chance to re-examine some concepts about SOF that we previously took for granted. Do we really need special operations force (or two, or three) for every branch of the military? Probably not. Should they be able to operate with the level of impunity and lack of accountability they do now? Absolutely not. Do we really need as many of them as the whole SOF enterprise has bloated to? Also probably not. Should they be going off and getting involved in endless forever wars of dubious legality or necessity? Absolutely not.

I say we start over, slim down, and go back to training SOF to blow up bridges to slow down authoritarian states that are invading their neighbors, or training rebel guerillas to fight back against an authoritarian foreign occupier, o rescuing hostages – stuff of that nature. Not just walking around the Middle East in Gucci gear committing war crimes and then coming back home and starting a racist coffee and/or military themed apparel company.

The Central Intelligence Agency

Do I really need to justify this one?

Like, really?

If you know anything about the CIA you should know it’s beyond saving at this point. I could list you a litany of their misdoings both at home and abroad. Literal books upon books have been written about it, and I could fill this entire article with hyperlinks to articles, documentaries, and much more describing it all. Countless stories of scandals and misconduct, such as torture, coups, assassinations and drone strikes, support of horrific violent groups and governments, and what have you – ever since its founding.

How do we solve this? Simple. Tell everyone at Langley their services are no longer required, have them pack up a cardboard box, and then literally set that cursed place on fire and let it burn until all the bad spirits have been released. Then bulldoze over the remains and, I dunno – turn it into a pet cemetery or something. Or just pour cement over it like it was a toxic waste dump.

Now, this leads to another question: do we need an intelligence capability? Well, some leftists may not be happy with this answer because the CIA has conceptually poisoned the well for them so thoroughly on this topic, but in my opinion: yes. When pull a Henry Stimson and decide that “gentlemen don’t read each other’s mail,” you’re not doing yourself any favors but you’re giving plenty to anyone and everyone who wishes to do you harm. I’ll save that discussion for an essay of its own, but while I still think we need intelligence gathering and analytical capability, I don’t think the CIA is the answer by any means. We need to start over with a new culture, new people, new methodology, and new ideology guiding it all – among many other new things.

Defense Contractors

Defense contractors have to be some of my favorite punching bags in the national security field. And why shouldn’t they be? They just make it so goddamn easy. Its all so justified. They’re either at best amoral, or at worst bordering on Dr. Evil levels of supervillainy with the role they play in fueling conflict.

But its not just the evil that makes me want to get rid of them. It’s the fact that they can’t even do their goddamn jobs right while being evil. I read defense and national security news and analysis pretty much every, and you’d be hard pressed to go more than a couple days without seeing some story about a major defense procurement program that has run into issues that will delay and almost certainly drive up the cost of the end product – if the program isn’t cancelled before you even get to production. Hell, for a while last week, we were getting at least one of these a day.

This is not new by any stretch of the phenomenon. The decades following the end of the Cold War are littered with dozens of failed acquisitions efforts that wasted billions upon billions of taxpayer dollars only to end in little to nothing to show for it. Efforts to build new amphibious armored vehicles, self-propelled artillery, stealth scout helicopters, airborne laser systems (you see now I wasn’t joking with the Dr. Evil comparison), or comprehensive plans to entirely transform the Army have all ended in failure – but not without running up hefty price tags first.

Even the programs that do get through and do get fielded often do so plagued with problems. Take the F-35 Lighting II Joint Strike Fighter for instance – the world’s most expensive weapons system in history, which despite almost two decades of development and a trillion dollars or so in funding is still plagued with both hardware and software problems – so many issues that Defense News has an entire section of its website dedicated to them.. Or the KC-46 Pegasus tanker aircraft, which the Air Force itself has called a “lemon” and that I can only describe as the defense procurement version of Sideshow Bob constantly stepping on rakes. Oh and don’t even get me started on the Navy’s Littoral Combat Ships – which someone wittier than I on twitter once aptly described as a “glorified jet ski”, which is once again having technical issues that are only the latest in a long line of problems and have led the Navy to halt deliveries.

I could go on and on with stories like this. We could also have a very detailed discussion or on why the defense industry can’t seem to do anything right since the end of the Cold War – don’t’ get me wrong, they sucked back then too, but they could least delivery a bit more regularly. We could have a debate on whether these failures and overall state of the defense industry is the result of incompetence, laziness, or willful malevolence and greed on the part of the defense contractors – my opinion is the answer is “all of the above” to varying degrees.

However, we’ll save all that for another time because it’s definitely a topic that deserves an essay of its own – or two, or three – to pack in all the detail. The main takeaway here is, is that whatever you call this disaster factory – whether its military industrial complex or defense industrial base – it’s not working. Its time for it to go.

Now I’ve built up a reputation of adding caveats at this point, so far be it from me to defy expectations at this point.  Shocker: I believe we still need a capability to manufacture weapons and military equipment. However, I don’t think this should be something private sector corporations should be doing for profit. War is a racket, as Marine General Smedley Butler famously said – but it doesn’t have to be that way.

My answer? Nationalize them. All of them. Boeing, General Dynamics, Lockheed Martin, the whole lot. Nationalize them. Providing for the national defense shouldn’t be a money-making endeavor. It should be an obligation taken on by the state in order to defend its people – and that’s the key: the people. Not just  protecting the institutions and certainly not just corporations and the wealthy and the elite. Competition for who gets to build what shouldn’t be about getting a paycheck, it should be for the pride of having done the best job providing the military with a tool that – while we hope we never have to use it – will be used under just circumstances to defend ourselves and others from unequivocal and clear aggression.

You want to make money? I dunno. Start a podcast with a Patreon (or an OnlyFans). But making the machines and material that are unfortunately necessary for the grim and permanently reality of armed conflict shouldn’t be where you go to become rich and powerful. Not on my watch.

That’s All Folks! (For now…)

I could go on for pages more with these – I haven’t even gotten to the National Guard yet (I bet that one might cause some interesting opinions). But I do try to keep those somewhat short and accessible, so your eyes don’t glaze over the first couple paragraphs in. I thank you for sticking with me this far in on this self-indulgent journey. I’ll be doing more of these in the future – not least because its fun (being the giant nerd that I am), but also because it gives you a bit of a preview of topics I’m planning to cover on their own in the future, as well as more of an idea of what I’m about with my own ideology and outlook.

This year may not have gotten off to the greatest start, but what were we expecting really? It can be hard not to get bummed out and black pilled somedays for sure – I struggle with it off and on. But at the end of the day, while I think things will probably get worse before they get better, I remain convinced that they can and will get better eventually. So, we might as well start planning for it now so we can get a running start when that day comes. Making a little click-bait style list gives us at least something to work off of once we get there, right?

[boba-beom]

it's honestly so great, i really missed being here. home. with the people i love. i spent most of my life here and sometimes, i really miss it and i wish i could've been able to stay here for uni as well. that happens when you live abroad i guess, you long for your home, for your people, for your language, for your culture and your food.

omg you had your birthday?? belated happy birthday 🥺 i hope you had an amazing time with the people you love❤️ i haven't known you for that long, but i really enjoy talking to you and seeing your posts on my notifs. you always manage to bring a smile on my face c:

LMAO NOT THE "you're getting older" message pls😭 i don't know much about the whole situation, but he seems confusing? is he being friendly or is this going to become some sort of casual thing between the two of you? idk if you've ever watched friends, but there's this submarine guy phoebe went out with at some point and basically he resurfaced every 2 years and they had the most amazing time together. so it could be something like thaaaat? or it could be just him being friendly. guys are so confusing honestly😭

ah, i swear, rediscovering things is a whole new experience and i'm sure you'll enjoy it as if it's the first time. i just love it when muscle memory kicks in, cause it feels like "wow i can't believe i remember this" and also "damn it, i AM good" LOL. what type of guitar do you usually play though? classical, acoustic or electric?

ahh, you're welcome. honestly at this point i'm convinced that you could write about a trashbag and i still would like it, because your writing is that good. it captivates you in its own way and i enjoy seeing all these scenarios i've never thought of or seen before on here (• ♡ •)

that sounds like a good idea. i hope everything goes well with your coursework and you get a good grade. you got this!!❤️

when it comes to university, i start my next semester in april and my timetable is such a mess, i'm really not looking forward to the next semester in a way lol. but on the other hand, i'm super excited for some of the lectures and seminars i'll be attending. we're finally taking two clinical psychology lectures and this one seminar about mental disorders. the clinical part has always been my main interest ever since i started my bachelor's, so i'm excited to finally dive in deeper. oh, that reminds me. what are you studying if you don't mind me asking?

that's so true smiles, thank you🥺❤️ i'll definitely tag you once it's out, thank you for being so supportive❤️❤️

ohh the uni trip sounds so exciting, i hope you had a good time!! and it sounds like you've had a very productive couple of days!! hope you're also resting and taking care of yourself <3 pls that post made me so soft, it was so well written and i just loved the moments between mc and beomgyu🥺 really showcased how well they matched each-other, almost fitting perfectly into one-another like two puzzle pieces. i also use bullet points to write sometimes haha they really do help with planning/brainstorming and then also connecting everything into one once you're done.

i've been pretty well tbh, just eating a lot and having a good time with my friends and family hehe. i can't believe i go home in three days though, these past few days really felt like a fever dream.

of course being in the comfort of your own home is the best over anything, but I'm really happy you got to spend time with your loved ones <3

this was longer than I expected lmao

and thank you! yes, it was only a small celebration since I had quite a loud one last year. plus I only stayed home for 3 days since I had uni a couple of days after my birthday.

it's funny actually, yesterday he went to my home city for an interview and he was there for two nights, but last night was his last night in the city and I was added to a group call with him and our bsf. my bsf left the call around 2am but he and I kept talking until 6am :') and he had a train to catch at 10am... it was nice, I feel like I did genuinely get to know him a little more without having our bsf there to prompt us to talk. but I feel like I enjoy talking to him, but I think I'm going to leave it at just friends... for now since that's all what it feels like at the minute :>

that's so true! and I have an electro-acoustic guitar!! I do want an electric guitar at some point though, or even a bass too. are there any other instruments you want to learn or have played in the past?

and pls, you're too sweet :') I do have the tendency to use flowery terms and what not, I can't help it though hehe but thank you so so much for always being so interested and I love hearing your feedback because I always wanna know what goes on through someone's mind or their thoughts about anything of mine that they've read.

but thank you! I've been progressing well, but I do need to make timetable or a schedule for things I need to do, slowly but surely I will be okay!

I hope your next semester won't be too hard on you! omg my sister does psychology too and clinical is something she's wanting to do :> I do interior architecture and design! I'm loving it, truly, but it's just the fact the deadline's coming closer is something that makes me anxious about my work is all.

I had a long rest over the weekend and I've been back on the grind since monday so I've been keeping on track with what I've been wanting to do! and yes, that piece was written a little differently than what I usually do but, again, thank you for liking it so much! I'm happy my imagination was envisioned well to you<3 and for writing, everyone has their own ways, as long as you enjoy the process then go for it!

I hope you have/had a save flight, my love! as always, there will be more times when you can come back home and spend time with them again! it's just something you can look forward to next time, yano? rest up and I hope you have good days ahead of you 💕

[merv606]

samtory college au, thoughts?

Hello Anon, who I definitely do not know 😈

This turned into a Drabble - maybe a short story lol it’s not 🌶 but maybe I’ll add to it, and clean it up - post it on AO3.

Maybe a belated bday present 😂 I mean if by chance oh great anon it has been your bday recently 😏

Maybe, they end up at the same college.

They had reached an easy truce at the end of High School. Mainly because they had to - Tory had joined Miyagi-Do after one lesson on Terry’s dummy - she was able to recognize a lot faster than Daniel did how messed up his methods were, even if he didn’t look at any of them the way he had Daniel.

Chalk it up to Daniel being more naive than Tory at that age in some regards to life - but maybe she had enough sources of pain without adding another one to it. Karate had been a safe space and it was quickly being eroded at Cobra Kai, but she found it again under Daniel’s teachings.

Turns out she and Daniel are a lot more alike than she realized. They both have a strong work ethic and sense of duty when it comes to family and those they love - would do anything for those people. He knew what poverty felt like, what hopelessness and powerlessness felt like. How that leaves a stain - a feeling of not being good enough - that you always have to be so much better just to show you’re half as good (even if you’re so much more) just so someone will give you a shot. That feeling like you always have something to prove - although the chip on Daniel’s shoulder about that has lessened over the years, it gives Tory hope that maybe hers will too.

Plus there is their tempers - Amanda calls them both her hot heads.

She understands now though, why he tries so hard to protect Sam from it - that life - and she starts to see the girl in another light as well.

Sam works just as hard, in her own way, and has her own problems - some Tory would never have even realized before.

That people dismiss her the same way for different reasons - thinking she never deserves what she gets. That it’s all handed to her and she has no cares in the world - how wrong Tory was. How wrong both girls were about each other.

With learning though, comes understanding and with that acceptance, even if it is hard to shake off the manufactured hate they felt for each other.

And when Tory realizes she may be mistaking hate for something else, well she buries that too - she has a good thing going.

She gives the brunette her Trophy at graduation - explaining it’s hers anyway- and that easy truce grows into a friendship. Both girls realizing that in each other they found a type of friendship they never really had before but then college looms, and it threatens this new found thing they have, this thing that is their own. Although both girls don’t really know what this thing is yet, they both want to protect it, nurture it and see what it can grow into.

But, Tory has been working hard. With Amanda and Daniel’s help, not as much on her plate to worry about because of them, her grades were good and she allowed herself some hope that maybe college and all those things she had long since given up on getting might actually be within her grasp. Opportunity; a better life.

She won’t take their money - her pride she will not compromise on but she is willing to accept help now at least - so she agrees on a loan.

Turns out both Amanda and Daniel never went to college and it kind of makes what they achieved that much more impressive in her eyes / these “rich people” she assumed were so snobby and entitled, know hard work.

Turns out, she was doing to them the same that people did to her, and she has to admit, we all need to learn to look at things through different perspectives sometimes.

But she and Sam make a deal that, when they get letters, they wait for each other to open them together and Sam gets into a few and so does Tory but they manage to get one together.

Daniel and Amanda think it’s a great idea - at least they’ll have each other - some support and familiarity.

And one night, at college, after a few too many drinks for both of them, liquid courage, although Tory will swear she’s never been afraid of anything ever - even when Sam is one the warpath - she’s tiny but scary, okay (like father like daughter) - this new found thing morphs into something else. In the form of breathy sighs, smooth skin under rough hands, wetness and heat between both of their legs, and frantic movements as they try to get into each other’s skin, the same way they realize they’ve already gotten into each other in so many other ways.

Still.

She’s walking past a shop one day and it’s in the window - and she laughs to herself / she can’t not buy it. She hasn’t called Sam that that for many moons, but just for old time’s sake.

Besides, it’ll show off her tiny waist and small chest, and Tory will be able to slide her hand up the shorts where her girl is always welcoming for her, and have some fun with her “princess” later on.

[ichika27]

OnS Chapter 97-98

I forgot to make a post last month so I’m doing both in one post. I can’t make an overall catching up post anymore and binge at a later date cause scanlators don’t seem to be translating this anymore and so I’m reading this from the official site/app which only has the first 3 and the last 3 chapters available. Every month, the oldest of the latest three gets taken down and replaced with the newest one so... yeah.

Anyways, uh, enjoy...?

First, we have a Shinoa flashback. Due to having a demon inside her, she’s being experimented on. Both her and her older sister who are conceived this way. Shinoa however, unlike her gifted sister doesn’t reach expectations.

Damn, that’s really self-depreciating. I’m used to seeing those from posts by teenagers and young adults, not little kids baby Shinoa’s age.

I’m both happy and sad her reasoning for this is cause she’s worried about Mahiru. That young and she’s thinking of how to protect her older sister.

Some Shinoa and Shinya interaction! Young Shinya lets himself lose against his adopted older brother and Shinoa calls him out on it. Shinoa’s been this sassy since childhood, huh? lol.

Shinya muses at the fact that his fiancee, Mahiru, already loves someone else and wonders what kind of person he is. Gosh, I wanna know how he and Guren met (it’s in the LN, I think?).

That’s actually pretty cute. Mahiru fangirling over Guren like this kinda makes me forget for a second this is a shounen series and it’ll not end well.

Mahiru warns Shinoa that she can’t be weak and can’t show any desire. They also can’t show anyone they actually have demons inside of them. Their lives were restricted from the moment they’re born and they know it.

Oh boy...

I remember when my siblings were that young and I just ended up wincing. It makes sense, I mean just like how getting a body used to poison would strengthen the body’s resistance, pain could make one used to it so much that it’ll take worse torture for anything to affect you.

Shinoa understands though. Aww... she’s beaten up and there’s a threat she’d suffer but she’s still thinking of her big sister.

Everything Mahiru did and is about to do is either for Guren or for Shinoa and overall, for herself as she loves them both.

And so she makes a deal with Krul.

Meanwhile, Mika is still in his happy place and his demon self wants to make sure the happy dream never ends. I feel bad but after all the crap Mika has been through, I get why he’d rather retreat to fantasy.

I mean the world is burning and most of us decide we’d spend our days online. I can relate.

Ashera, Kiseki-O, and Gekkouin are hanging out and trying to find a way to get to demon Mika. I’m happy the three are interacting but severely disappointed they’re on Sika Madu’s side. Yeah, they’re working for the big bad.

Still fun to see them talk to each other though.

That’s... kinda what some people in the fandom want (including me). This... this is all their plan, huh?

Back to the flashback, Mahiru makes a deal with Krul - help her in whatever it is she’s planning and Krul gets to find Ashera. Mahiru just wanted to live a normal life with Guren and her sister but if she’s not allowed then she’ll find a way.

Krul figures out Sika Madu is listening to their convo and can actually possess Shinoa at anytime. Krul tells the gang the First Progenitor, Sika Madu, is their enemy while Sika Madu tries (not very hard though) to convince them he’s not and he just wants his son back.

You know what, I hated Guren. He did a lot of dickish things over the course of the series shattering my perception of him from season 1 and yet...

They want to turn Mika into Yuu’s Cursed Gear. It’s something I wanted and I’m sure what some others in the fandom wanted as well when Mika was turned into a demon. This was their plan all along. From the start.

Now I dunno how to feel about him anymore but heck I am interested in finding out what the hell is going on now.

Ashera has now been given orders. They (the demons) have to capture Mika before the main characters could.

I am sad but I am also hoping so bad that Ashera is still in Yuu’s side. I do hope he betrays the First Progenitor and helps Yuu and the others. If I’m feeling this way about Ashera, I’m much more disappointed seeing Gekkouin working for the First. He and Yoichi were so close and the first one to be friends or at least have an understanding between all the human/demon partners. I always thought that was nice and amazing and I’ll be sad if he and Yoichi became enemies.

--

I’m excited at seeing how this all goes next month! Seriously, after the what happened in season 2 this entire story has slowly become some kind of roller coaster ride and this is just another twist on that. I dunno what’s going on in the author’s mind but I do hope I get to see this to the end. Thank you for reading this and Belated Happy New Year!

[softbiker]

Agent 14 Oneshot

Warnings: maybe a couple bad words

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: While this is a continuation of the Steve x Agent 14 series, this particular installment has...almost no Steve lol. Just wanted to warn people before I get in trouble for that. It does, however, feature Agents 41 and 28 (from series written by @nacho-bucky​ and @kentuckybarnes​ )! Also, I plan on expanding and posting the full “menu” of custom drinks that 14 makes for her friends, so stay tuned for that! As always, enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

She squeals when the ad pops up as she’s scrolling through Instagram.

There it is, in all its glory, right between yet another engagement photo and a “no filter” celebrity selfie.

The S’mores Frappucino.

A towering frozen swirl of sweet vanilla and creamy milk chocolate, topped with the most mouth-watering promise of all: marshmallow whipped cream. And all of it dusted with a generous sprinkle of crushed graham cracker pieces. It’s enough to make 41 want to lick her phone screen.

With a flailing little backwards somersault, she rolls herself off the couch and bounds down the hallway towards Clint’s room, tie-dye socks slipping on the freshly polished floors.

“Guess what season it is?” She flings the door open with one hand, brandishing her phone in the other, her grin nearly splitting her face as she bounces up on her toes, eager to see his reaction - only to pull up short, a soft frown dragging her lips back down. The room is empty.

“Tweets?” 41 glances around the room, taking stock of the discarded socks and inside-out jeans littering the floor, a pair of her own boots flung to one corner, a plush sea turtle smiling at her from the bed. There’s a Sharing Size bag of peanut M&M’s on the nightstand, next to an open can of Red Bull, leaving a ring on the cover of last month’s Men’s Health which he’d permanently borrowed from Sam. She looks up at the ceiling - typically he leaves a vent open as a point of entry if he’s been…exploring up there. But no dice. Their vent remains screwed in place.

Shoving her phone in the front pocket of her hoodie, she backtracks towards the kitchen, rounding the corner from the hallway and sliding into the room Risky Business-style. A blazing mid-morning sun floods the room with light through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bouncing off of the metalwork backsplash and casting sparkles across the empty table. Hands on her hips, she huffs to herself, wondering where he’s run off to, before the clinking of glass bottles catches her attention.

Sticking up from the open door of the fridge is a vaguely familiar yoga-panted ass, waving in the air as its owner rummages through the shelves and drawers, muttering under her breath.

“Nat?” The red curls bounce in her ponytail as she stands at the sound of 41’s voice.

“Oh, hey, kid,” Nat smiles, propping a hand on her hip. If she’s at all bothered by the fact that her friend and coworker just got an eyeful of her backside, she hides it all with a poker face she probably mastered in super spy kindergarten. “What are you up to?”

“Just looking for Clint.” 41 pouts. She shifts her weight to one leg, scratching at her ankle with the toe of one sock. “You haven’t seen him have you?”

Natasha’s eyebrows flicker up as she closes the refrigerator with her hip.

“Oh - he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“The boys are all out for the day,” she sighs, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Some kind of belated bachelor party for Tony - even though he’s been married for a year, he said he missed out on the experience; so he kidnapped all of our male counterparts for the day.” Nat shrugs one shoulder, smirking. “Frankly the concept seems outdated - and sexist. But when has Tony ever listened to me?”

Nat notices the way her shoulders fall, the way her hands roll up inside the sleeves of her hoodie. Poor thing. And she’d come in here looking so excited, too; now her frown settles too deeply at the corners of her lips, eyes cast somewhere on the floor. Abandoning her search for a snack, Nat slides onto a bar stool at the island, propping her chin in one hand.

“You have any plans for today?” she prompts. She’ll deny it till her dying day, but the formerly made-of-marble assassin feels…soft at her core now. No, not her abs - her backflips are as tight as ever; but somewhere behind her ribs, deeper than her muscles, there’s a marshmallowy give to her now - the press of fingers could leave a dent on her.

And that’s why, God help her, she couldn’t stand the sight of 41’s frown. Couldn’t endure the downcast disappointment in her gaze. Couldn’t walk away from her halfhearted, sighing shrug.

“Not really,” 41 mumbles, licking her bottom lip. “I was just gonna see if Clint wanted to go get Starbucks with me. They’ve got the S’mores drink now.”

Pulling her phone from where it’s tucked into the waistband of her yoga pants, Nat quickly swipes through her messages and pulls up a group chat named ‘No Boys Allowed’.

I’m so gonna regret this, she thinks, but she types up her proposal anyway and taps send. Time to assemble.

 ***********                                                                                                  

The bell over the door dings cheerfully, and 14 fights her inner groan long enough to yell over her shoulder, “Welcome to Starbucks!” She doesn’t turn from the drink in her hands, too afraid of spilling the milk (again) and having to remake this caramel macchiato. Gaze intent on the cup in her hands, she drizzles the sides with caramel, watching the sticky sweet goop glide down the walls of the cup. Satisfied that this should meet the customer’s request for “extra, extra caramel”, she reaches for her milk jug, glancing up from the machine where her espresso shots are queueing.

41 waves ecstatically when she meets her gaze over the espresso machine, a suspiciously casual Nat smirking over her shoulder. Wanda is following close behind them, hands shoved in the pockets of a denim jacket, despite the summer heat. Maria is already standing in front of the register, eyeing the menu, with 28 next to her, a pair of dark sunglasses pushed up on top of her head.

14 blinks.

With quick, nimble fingers, she finishes the drink in front of her and sets it up on the mobile order stand, awaiting the customer. Chase, the barista who should be covering front, is nowhere to be seen; but she doesn’t have any other drinks waiting, so she strides up to the register, tilting a curious brow at her friends.

“Ladies,” 14 smiles, tilting her head to one side. “This is…a nice surprise? A kidnapping? A mission?”

“Relax,” Maria says, punctuated with a good-natured eye roll. “We’re just here for the coffee.”

“Oh, sure,” 14 crosses her arms, leaning a hip against the front counter. “You guys are a little short-staffed, aren’t you? Where’s all the testosterone?”

“Looking for a certain star-spangled specimen?” Nat pipes up. Their group has clustered around the register in a close semicircle. “Boys’ day out. Some kind of adventure that will probably land Tony in the doghouse…but then again, he’s partying with a couple centenarians, so how bad could it be?”

“You’d be surprised,” 28 mutters with a quirk of her eyebrows.

In front of a group of super spies, superheroes, and super intelligent women, 14 fights to put on the best poker face she’s ever had in her life. At the mention of Steve - as well as the news he wouldn’t be joining them - Nat watches her closely; the only sign of her disappointment is the way she purses her lips, eyes flicking towards the door as though she might prove them wrong. And then it’s gone, her eyes turning back to her friends, a beaming, nose-scrunching smile fixed on her face.

“That sounds awful,” she giggles. “But very on-brand for Tony.”

A chorus of assent from the ladies, rolling their eyes and scoffing at the endless supply of evidence they have to that fact.

“Alright so…what can I get you?” 14 prompts. As much as she’d like to stand here, chatting with her friends, she’s still on the clock for another hour and a half - and there’s work to be done. Maybe it stings, chafes her heart a little, that this little outing doesn’t quite include her; that she’ll make their drinks and then they’ll leave, and then more drinks for more people for the rest of her shift. But these customers are more pleasant than most, and it’s not as though she won’t see them later, so she shoves down her insecurity and taps at the screen of the register, opening her till.

“Well we were thinking…” Wanda starts, glancing at Natasha. The two share an amused smirk that 14 doesn’t like at all. “…that maybe you could surprise us?”

“Except me!” 41 raises her hand, bouncing up on the balls of her feet. “I haven’t had a S’mores yet this year, I need one! Please?”

Stunned, 14 looks around the group, cocking one eyebrow.

“So…one S’mores, and then - you all want to be surprised?” What a request - she didn’t trust anyone to make a drink for her…that could really backfire.

“Well, you know us,” Nat shrugged. “You know what we like, what we hate, what we won’t drink…”

“Besides, it never hurts to try something new,” Maria smirks.

Teeth sinking into her bottom lip, a slow smile spreads across 14’s face.

“Alright, ladies, say no more-”

It takes her little more than a minute to line up her plan, squinting at each of her friends in concentration, a Sharpie poised to mark each cup, labeled with a name in her characteristic block-print scrawl. They crane their necks over the tops of the machines, trying to see behind the bar and guess what she’s whipping up back there. Ingredients flit through her hands, shaken into one cup, then exchanged for something else for the next. Syrups, cinnamon, juices, toppings. They try and fail to keep it all straight from one cup to the next, but she’s too fast, hands reaching between two drinks at once.

Finally, with a last look over her shoulder, goofily sticking her tongue from the corner of her mouth, she piles 41’s coveted marshmallow whip on top of her drink and sprinkles the graham cracker topping with a generous hand. 41 barely contains her squeal as she grabs 28’s elbow and points at it.

“That one’s mine! Doesn’t it look amazing?”

One by one, she lines up the drinks at the end of the bar, turning the cups so each name is properly shown.

“Alright, so what am I in for?” Maria cautiously waves her drink under her nose, letting the steam waft up from the small opening in the lid. Hers is a hot drink, its contents concealed in a thick paper cup proudly bearing the same green logo as its cardboard sleeve.

“I thought you wanted to be surprised?” 14 smirks, sliding 41’s frappucino across the bar into her glitter-nailed hands. 28 grabs hers as well, a refreshingly cold…something - she plunges in a straw and swirls the ice as she examines the pale pink color of the drink.

“Well, bottoms up girls,” Nat shrugs, inspecting the layer of foam on top of her drink before raising it to her lips. Wanda taps her cup with 41’s before tipping hers up as well. Standing behind the bar, a rag in her hands, 14 gnaws on her lip as she watches them sip her creations. She shifts her feet as she waits for the verdict.

“Wow.” Wanda’s brows shoot up, tongue flicking over her lip. “This is really good.”

“Yeah,” Maria agrees, going in for her second taste.

“Don’t know why you sound surprised,” 41 says around her straw and a mouthful of whipped cream. “Everything she makes is delicious.”

“Oh, thanks,” 14 brushes off the compliments with a one-shouldered shrug. “If you like it I’ll give you the recipe, so you can order it again?”

Various noises of agreement, all enthusiastic, all from full mouths. She smiles, grabs a blank receipt paper from the register and a pen from the pocket of her apron.

“Okay, so yours Wanda is a double dirty chai with cinnamon…”

  ***********                                                                                                  

Folding her apron over one arm, 14 releases her hair from its butterfly clip and reaches for her backpack. She keeps a spare change of clothes folded neatly in the bottom, in case she has to run errands after work and can’t go out covered in coffee and syrup. The bathroom is empty and she ducks inside, slipping into a pair of cutoff shorts and and a tie-dye t-shirt; her faithful sneakers can make it through work and life, thankfully, so she wiggles her feet back into them, not bothering to untie the laces.

It’s been a long day. And a glance at her watch tells her it’s only…1:09 p.m.

Backpack on one shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head, she makes her way back out of the café, pausing at the end of the bar to get her drink.

“Here, girl.” Jade, the barista who made her drink, smiles as she hands her a straw. “You look like you need this.”

“I feel like I need this.” 14 smiles back as she jams her straw into the cup and takes the first sip. Iced blonde americano, 2 pumps toffee nut, a splash of sweet cream. She makes a small noise of pleasure - hits the spot every time.

“See you tomorrow!” she waves to her coworkers as she backs out the door, dropping her sunglasses down to her face as she steps into the unrelenting summer sun. Not two steps out the door, turning to the street, and she nearly bumps into-

“Nat?”

“Hey, long time no see.” Nat wiggles her fingers in a mocking little wave. The rest of their posse is clustered around a couple of bistro tables haphazardly shoved together outside the café.

“What…you guys are still here?” 14 cocks her head to the side. It’s been over an hour and a half at least, their drinks are sitting empty on the tables in front of them. She had assumed they’d be long gone.

“Well, duh,” 41 grins. “We’re going to lunch! And then - oh, we should get pedicures!”

“Oh, can we go to that new Thai place?” Wanda asks, leaning her elbows on the table. “It’s only a couple blocks down from here.”

“God, the things I would do for some egg rolls right about now-” Maria agrees, patting her stomach.

They start to stand from their tables, the metal chairs scraping loudly against concrete, and 28 gathers the empty cups to throw away in the trash cans next to the door. The group shuffles and chatters, eager at the prospect of lunch; purses and wallets are snatched up, phones tucked back into pockets. Wanda leads the way as they march off in pursuit of pad thai and egg rolls, the rest of the group falling in behind her on the sidewalk. Even in the early afternoon heat, they link arms and laugh and stand too close together, sharing giggles and gossip.

Nat lightly bumps 14 with her shoulder, her green eyes gone pale and glittering in the sun.

“You didn’t really think we’d eat and run on you?” she smirks. “Come on, I’m starving.”

14 ducks her head and grins.

“Just one second-” she says, sliding her phone from her back pocket. She snaps a picture of her drink, then smiles at Nat. “Okay, now we’re good.”

Nat rolls her eyes.

“Wow, that was so basic-”

“Shut up.”

A few minutes later, sitting in a blessedly air-conditioned Thai restaurant, she captions the photo ‘new drink for you to try next time - I highly recommend it’ and hits send.

Somewhere across town, shoved cheek by jowl with his buddies in the back of a stretch limo, the interior vibrating with music and lit with flashing LEDs, a super soldier smiles at his phone.

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (26)

@spickerzocker​ said:

hey there! just a heads up that i tried to click on the "why i don't ship" explanation link in your faq and it says that there is no post with that url/it's generally broken. also your "a conversation about recovery" thing is beautiful and hurts in the best way and i love it. have a nice day!

Yes, I intentionally took that link down awhile ago, and last night I went and updated some of the tabs on my blog. Here are my basic thoughts:

I wrote that link years and years ago, while I was first navigating the internet and while I was still figuring out important things about my own identity and opinions. I ran my blog differently back then, but by the end of the first few months, I knew I was uncomfortable with shipping. 

As people began to interact with me and my work, I told them over and over again no, I don’t want to talk about that, and I don’t want to write about it, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think that was a common position to take at the time, so it wasn’t what people expected from me. 

During those years, I felt like I had to justify myself and give a valid explanation. I wrote that post explaining why I had that boundary, and I put it in a place where anyone could find it.

I said no when people asked, let them make jokes about it, and made jokes about it myself in response. As time went on I got more and more exasperated when I had to repeat myself. I wrote definite rules into my ask box, request tab, and FAQ. People still asked. I wrote it into my description. People still asked. 

The truth is yeah, there’s a pretty simple explanation for my discomfort. It makes sense. It’s easy to understand, and most folks think it’s a “good enough” reason to leave me alone. The difference between young-me and current-me is that I no longer feel the need to justify myself. 

None of y’all need to know why I set the boundaries that I set. My explanation isn’t relevant, and I’m not obligated to give it. I said no. That’s enough. 

I think a good number of folks remember my explanation from the past, and I don’t mind that at all. There may be a time where I talk about it again, in a more appropriate context, so I guess we’ll see.

That’s a lot of information in response to a very helpful ask. Thanks! The link is gone now, and I’m so pleased that you enjoyed the fic :)

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Anonymous said:

U suck

Kenza sent this anon as a joke. She’s right, and I thank her. 

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Anonymous said:

I'm a doctor and ive seen it all.....but the milk fic made me gag

Excellent

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@wingedskyes said:

Ah. Wait. I wasn't on anon....uhm. oh well. It's fine. I like milk and am not ashamed. 😆

I don’t think I received another message from you actually, but I too like milk and I’m glad we’re on the same page

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@thelittleredheadedmusician said:

To add to the milk discussions: my best friend from home and best friend from college have each finished a gallon a milk by themselves within 2 days.

I do that too, every once in awhile. When the milk craving hits it’s a gallon a day

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Anonymous said:

"TIM! POUR HIM. A GLASS OF M A L K!"

Hold on I have to google some things

Yeah this is funny

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Anonymous said:

I have read that milk fic three separate times and every time I’m laughing just as hard as Tim and dick by the end it’s just so excellently executed and builds so perfectly that by the time dick cracks I’m ready to go too and I just lose it it’s amazing I love it

Awww anon I’m so pleased :)

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@the-smartass-under-the-mountain said:

Just wanted to drop by and say your recent fic with Tim antagonizing Damian with increasingly outrageous milk concoctions had me giggling. It was so cute and refreshing to see Dick enjoying Tim's little prank. And Bruce's reaction to just... walk away was fantastic!

Thank you! I’m always so thrilled when y’all think the jokes hit

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@njtheboywonder​ said:

I havnt really enjoyed a fic in years, but i stopped to read ur fanfic with tim drinking milk just to fuck w dami amd it made me smile. Thanks, for writing it.

Oh that warms my heart <3

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@bruciewayneisbatman​ said:

Tim Is totally the guy who would drink ridiculous amounts of dalgona coffee to annoy damian, according to that fic.

Had to google that one, but I guess so huh

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Anonymous said:

(diff anon) but that birthday fic was so good oml and you have opened my eyes as to the batfam in quarantine this is such a Concept

We’re all here dying..... together...

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Anonymous said:

Happy birthday! 🎉 or belated! 🎂 thank you for being in the fandom. 😊

&

Anonymous said:

To anon! Sorry. I forgot to add that! Anyway, thanks to them we get a lovely fic. I hope you have many more birthdays! 😊

Message for you anon

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Anonymous said:

Your writing gives off good vibes

Hear that guys I “passed my vibe check.” Is that what the youth say these days? I am an elder now and I do not know

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Anonymous said:

finding your blog while being relatively new to batman fandom is such a bliss. your batfam content especially is *chef's kiss* amazing.

Thank you my darling :) I’m glad you’re here

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Anonymous said:

Best line in a fic? Hard to pick just one, but this particular one from "Just Desserts" by fyeahbatmanandrobin on Tumblr is one of my faves: “Anyone else would be hard-pressed to provide the particular brand of excitement you bring to my life, Dami.”

&

@noisypaintersong​ said:

For the line thing: "I don't doubt it. Bruce Wayne, the unexpectedly normal guy wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a superhero wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a fake socialite wrapped in a businessman wrapped in a secretive billionaire." He paused. "…You're the seven-layer burrito of Gotham," he pondered. - Barry to Bruce in 'Of Friends and Foes' by Paganpunk2 on FFN. It's one of the funniest things I've read someone say to Bruce LOL

& 

@kirakats​ submitted:

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Anonymous said:

“I do know that according to everyone else, there is no chance, no future, no universe where I stay a hero.” Describes my frustration with the way DC treats Damian so accurately. Let the kid be a hero dammit.

Thanks! That’s really helpful. I’ve got a decent answer to my question now. 

@kurawastaken​ submitted:

So this is Kenza retaliating against me for the milk fic. I very much hate tomatoes and specifically ketchup. This photo (1) is a nightmare and (2) fulfills its intended purpose.

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Anonymous said:

I love your blog!!!

And I love you 

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Anonymous said:

quick question: how do you think jason reconciles with the fam?? i think in the comics they kinda just reboot and now he’s on better terms. but like what conversations happened, yknow??? (you’re doin great work by the way, it rips out my heart but it’s great)

This is an amazing question, and I’ll be thinking about it for the next bit, I think. That would be a really interesting topic to explore in depth

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@angel-gidget​ said:

*hugs you real tight* would you please send this to the first 10 people in your dash? Make sure someone gets a hug today and stay safe!

Oh thank you for the hug <3

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Anonymous said:

I hadn’t been aware of that Memphis petition, but I live in Memphis too (Altho I know you said you just grew up there so you may not be living here currently haha) so ig I just wanted to say thanks for bringing it to my attention!

!!!

I’ve been in Texas for six years now, ever since I started school, but I’m still in and out of Memphis for family purposes. Love the trash heap of my birth 

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@damianwaynerocks​ said:

hey! any chance you know of any other dc heroes around damian’s age?

Sure! You could try Billy Batson, Jon Kent, or Maya Ducard

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Anonymous said:

hi! i don't know if it's okay to leave anons like these but ive been feeling down because my country has passed a bill that deprives us of lots of human rights freedom and i want you to know that i just found your blog through the damian/bruce + justice fic and it comforted me. im slowly going thru your works and so far they are all comforting. i love your stuff, thank you.

Philippines? I’ve heard some things, and I’m real sorry y’all’re going through that. I don’t know that there’s anything I could say about that to help, but I hope you’re finding joy somewhere

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@awesomeness-ofgaybitches​ said:

Tumblr hates you. The links in your bio and to your fic masterlist don't work on mobile. I'm sorry.

FUCK

[crescentmoon223]

When This is Over

As promised, my Stella/Scully quarantine fic. Heads up, it’s SUPER SMUTTY - you’ve been warned lol.

Tensions run high when Stella and Scully are forced to self-isolate together at home during a global pandemic. How far will Scully go to convince Stella to take her on a belated honeymoon once this is over? (Hint: bedroom hijinks!)

Read it on AO3 Note: This is set in present day (spring 2020), post Two Worlds Collide and after their wedding. When I write the sequel to TWC, it will be set during the summer and fall of 2019, directly after the epilogue (and yes, it will include their wedding!) Sorry if this is confusing, but it’s the only way the timeline made sense in my head lol. Obviously, I would rather write the TWC sequel first (and I do hope to write it next month!) but the idea for this quarantine fic hit last weekend, and I decided to go for it while it was relevant. I hope you enjoy! xx

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There were certain sounds that Scully associated with this new chapter in their lives. The clatter of fingers on a keyboard. The murmur of newscasters from the television in the kitchen. The flute music Stella listened to while she did yoga. And currently, the bump and clatter of her obsessively cleaning their flat. Scully looked up from her laptop with a smile as Stella entered her line of vision. She wore gray yoga pants with a black tank top, her hair tied back with a red polka-dot bandana. She wiped down their already sparkling countertops, spraying and scrubbing at spots only she could see. Everyday Stella was a neat freak and a bit of a germophobe. Stella during a viral pandemic was next level. “Nice ass,” Scully called as Stella bent to wipe down the front of one of the cabinets. Stella shot her an exasperated look, but she turned, leaning over the sink to rinse her cleaning cloth in a way that pressed her breasts together, emphasizing her cleavage beneath the snug-fitting tank top, and it certainly wasn’t accidental.

Read the rest on AO3

Scully closed out of the software the university was using for its virtual classroom. She’d been teaching forensics online for a week now, and it had gone relatively smoothly, although she missed the face-to-face interaction with her students. Setting her laptop on the table, she returned her attention to her wife. “Planning to stop cleaning anytime soon?” Another sharp look from Stella. “I’ll stop when it’s clean.” Scully knew better than to argue with her. She fought a smile as she remembered the abject horror on Stella’s face after she’d been told that as Detective Chief Superintendent, a position which required little to no field work, she was one of the non-essential Met personnel who would be expected to work from home until the self-isolation period had passed. In the days since, she had quickly demonstrated why she was not a good candidate to work from home. Unable to go to the office—or the pool—she’d covered the living room table with Met paperwork, file folders and notebooks filled with her ingenious musings. When she wasn’t working, she alternated between cleaning fits, ill-fated yoga sessions that tended to end in a lot of swearing and whiskey drinking, and watching entirely too much news BBC coverage on COVID-19. In short, she was driving Scully crazy. For her part, Scully had a more pragmatic approach. She’d suffered through many less pleasant quarantine situations than this one during her time on the X Files, and she’d already faced the potential end of the world as she knew it…more than once. She was perfectly content now to teach from her home office, run her own data on the progression of the virus, and spend plenty of time with her wife. If only she could get Stella to settle. “I need to check on my mom, and then we should start thinking about dinner,” Scully told her. “There are steaks in the freezer,” Stella said. “I’ll put them in the sink to thaw.” “Perfect.” Scully picked up her laptop and opened FaceTime to dial her mom. Maggie’s face appeared on the screen, and Scully felt something deep inside her relax. Probably the hardest part of this mandatory self-isolation was being trapped an ocean away from her mom, who was in a high-risk category due to her age. Thankfully, Maggie had lots of people checking on her. “Dana, I was just thinking about you,” she said with a smile. “How are you today, Mom?” “Oh, I’m just fine. Fox dropped by earlier. He brought me groceries, that sweet man.” Scully’s heart clenched. Mulder was a sweet man to check on her mom for her, not that she’d ever doubted this about him. They were family, in every way that mattered. She made a mental note to call him in the morning to thank him, and to make sure he was taking care of himself too. “He didn’t come in, did he?” “No. He left the groceries on the porch and then sat and talked with me for a while through the window.” Scully smiled. “That was nice of him.” “He talked a lot about increased UFO sightings, particularly in areas with the highest rate of infection.” Maggie’s eyes widened. “Mom.” Scully shook her head in exasperation. “It’s not an alien virus. In fact, it originated from bats.” “Well, he was very convincing, is all I’m saying,” Maggie told her. “He always is,” Scully agreed. “You’re still feeling fine? No symptoms?” “I’m as healthy as a seventy-six-year-old woman could expect to be,” Maggie said. “I even went for a walk around the neighborhood earlier, and before you ask, yes, I kept my distance from everyone else.” “Good,” Scully said, wishing more than anything that she could reach through the screen and give her mom a hug. “Remember, there’s no reason to panic if you do develop symptoms, but it’s extremely important that you get tested right away. Tests are hard to come by in the US, but I know people who can pull strings for you.” “I know, I know,” Maggie said, waving her hands impatiently. “How are you and Stella?” “We’re fine,” Scully told her, glancing toward the kitchen, but Stella was nowhere in sight. “Just a bit stir crazy, but who isn’t?” “I imagine this is very difficult for Stella,” Maggie said with a knowing smile. Scully grinned. “You got that right.” “Did I hear my name?” Stella emerged from the hallway, having changed into a white T-shirt and drawstring pants, her hair loose over her shoulders. She sat on the couch beside Scully, waving politely at Maggie. “Hi, Stella,” Maggie said warmly. “How are you?” “I’m fine, despite what Dana may be telling you,” she said, giving Scully a look. “And how are you, Maggie?” “The very same,” Maggie said with a laugh. Stella joined the conversation for a few minutes before excusing herself to the kitchen to check on the steaks. “I’ll talk to you again tomorrow, Mom,” Scully said. “And call me anytime, for any reason, no matter the hour. Promise?” “Will do,” Maggie said. “Good night, Dana. I love you.” “Love you too, Mom.” She ended the call and closed her laptop. Her gaze caught on the gold band glinting on her left ring finger. She was thankful for it for so many reasons, but right now, it symbolized a vitally important connection between her and Stella. If the worst were to happen and one of them became sick, they would have spousal privileges at the hospital. Stella was her next of kin, with visitation rights and the power to make any difficult decisions that might need to be made. And Scully would do the same for Stella. Both of them had living wills and all their wishes already clearly defined, but it gave her an extra sense of peace knowing they had each other. She touched the ring with a smile. “What do you want to do until dinner?” Stella asked, rejoining her on the couch. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.” She smiled as Stella’s fingers traced the seam of Scully’s jeans from her knee slowly up her thigh. They’d always enjoyed an active sex life, but being stuck at home together had made them even more insatiable than usual. She reached for Stella, sliding one hand into her hair as she pulled her in for a kiss. Stella smelled like lemons and soap, her lips soft and pliant against Scully’s. She stared into the azure depths of Stella’s eyes as her mind flipped all the way back to their first kiss against the side of Stella’s car over twenty years ago. They’d shared a lifetime of kisses since, two continents worth, from London to Maryland to Wyoming. Lately, she’d been wanting to add someplace new to that list. She pressed her lips against a sensitive spot on Stella’s jaw, feeling the shudder that ran through her. “You still owe me a honeymoon, you know.” “This isn’t enough for you?” Stella quipped, hands roaming beneath Scully’s shirt. “Endless weeks trapped here at home, fucking each other senseless?” She shook her head, gasping as Stella sucked at the spot beneath her ear that had always been her undoing. “I’m serious. If we survive this pandemic—” “If?” Stella interrupted, her tone sharp. “When,” Scully corrected. “When this is over, we owe it to ourselves to take a real vacation, one that has nothing to do with work or family. Just you and me, celebrating our marriage somewhere special.” Stella said nothing, instead swirling her tongue over Scully’s neck while she teased her through her jeans. But despite her already-wet panties, Scully persisted, because seduction as a form of distraction was the oldest rule in Stella’s book. “Paris,” she said, sliding into Stella’s lap. “There are so many museums we could explore, so much art. The Mona Lisa…” Stella arched her hips so Scully could move against her, friction building through their clothes. “I’ve seen the Mona Lisa.” “But I haven’t.” She slipped a hand between them, touching Stella through her pants, pleased as Stella’s breath hitched, nipples hardening beneath her T-shirt. “Take me, Stel.” “Yes,” Stella said throatily. “Take me to Paris,” she clarified, fingers moving over the soft cotton of Stella’s pants, already damp with her arousal. “We’ll see,” Stella hedged. She thought vacations were a waste of time and money, an extravagance that could be better indulged in fine liquors, fabrics, and other luxuries right here at home. Scully was generally inclined to agree with her. They both worked hard and traveled often enough for work or to visit family that a separate vacation just for the two of them sometimes felt like too much effort. But this was different. She’d already lost too many years to unpredictable viruses and quarantine protocols. She deserved a trip to Paris, at the very least. They both did. But if sex was Stella’s preferred means of communication at the moment, maybe she could use that to her advantage. Scully bent her head and kissed Stella, hands sliding behind her back to hold her close. Her tongue slid into the welcome heat of Stella’s mouth, tasting whiskey. “Picture it, Stella,” she murmured against her lips. “Sidewalk cafés, wine and cheese and melt-in-your-mouth pastries on our balcony.” “Mm,” Stella said noncommittally, hands gripping Scully’s ass. “Versailles,” Scully whispered against the pulse point on Stella’s neck, watching as goose bumps rose on her skin. “Gardens. Flowers. So many beautiful churches.” “I hate church,” Stella said breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to sit through a service with me, just admire the architecture and the stained glass.” She swirled her tongue over Stella’s collarbone, rewarded by a sharp inhale. “Let’s go, when this is over.” “Dana…” Stella’s body stilled beneath Scully’s. “We don’t know when that will be or what the world will look like.” “I know that.” She sat up, taking Stella’s chin in her hand to force her to meet her eyes. “I know that better than almost anyone.” “Then why are you pushing me for a trip right now of all times?” There was a fragility to the fierceness in Stella’s gaze. She was afraid. Scully softened at the realization. “The world will look different when this is over, and it will be a while before we can go to Paris, but it’s good for morale to have something to look forward to, and I would imagine the economy will need a boost from tourism when all is said and done.” “I can find you plenty of architecture and stained glass right here in London.” Stella popped the button on Scully’s jeans, pushing down the zipper with a soft metallic hiss. Scully pressed closer. “Not the point.” “Agree to disagree?” Stella’s fingers dove down the front of Scully’s underwear. Her hips rolled against Stella’s hand as a soft whimper escaped her throat, and a wicked idea took hold in her mind. “I’ll play you for it.” “What?” An adorable wrinkle appeared in Stella’s brow. Scully sat up straighter, grinning. “Sex games are your specialty, are they not?” Stella’s eyebrows lifted. “What kind of game?” “If I can make you come first, we go to Paris. If you make me come first, we stay home.” She dangled the bait, knowing Stella would be unable to refuse, even as she also knew her chances of winning were slim. Stella’s self-control was legendary, after all. But it would be fun to try, and it might even distract Stella from the reality of their situation for a little while. Sure enough, the flame in Stella’s eyes lit. “You’re on.” * * * Stella pushed Scully onto the bed and climbed on top of her, both of them still fully clothed. Now that Scully had made this a game with their honeymoon as the prize, they were both eager to take things slow. Frankly, Stella couldn’t imagine a better way to spend what remained of the afternoon than to slowly and relentlessly tease Scully right over the edge…repeatedly. “You smell good,” Scully murmured, shifting beneath her so that Stella’s right thigh slid between her own. “I took a quick shower while you were talking to your mother.” Stella pressed her thigh more firmly against Scully, rewarded by a little moan. She liked this position, being on top, in control, a feeling that had been in short supply since she’d been sent home from work. Stella hated laying low, waiting the threat to pass. Her every instinct screamed for her to get out there on the frontlines and fight this thing. She’d fearlessly stared down every kind of evil imaginable over the years, but this one was different. There was no bravery in going outside now, nothing but her own stupidity to blame if she allowed the virus to catch her. There was a helplessness to being trapped at home that was slowly eating her alive. She’d cleaned everything she could get her hands on, the only way she knew to fight this faceless threat. She’d checked on Fran nearly as often as Scully called her mother. She’d watched while Scully analyzed articles and data, showing her graphs that scared the fuck out of her, while Scully herself faced their uncertain future with a kind of serenity that made Stella want to scream. Distantly, she wondered if Scully knew all of this, if she’d manufactured this sex game to get Stella out of her head for a little while, to give her a sense of power here that she couldn’t find elsewhere right now. It wouldn’t surprise her, but she wasn’t going to let it ruin this moment either. She slid a hand beneath Scully’s top—a crisp black button-down she’d worn for her online teaching earlier that day—and cupped her over her bra. She brushed her thumb back and forth, feeling Scully’s nipples harden beneath her touch. Scully deftly untied the drawstring on Stella’s pants, slipping a hand inside. “Stella,” she said in a scandalized tone. “Did you FaceTime my mother without underwear?” “Easier to get undressed afterward.” She swallowed a whimper as Scully’s fingers slid over her bare skin before retreating to palm her equally bare breasts. “I’ll say.” Scully pushed Stella’s shirt up, helping her slide it over her head. Stella straightened, tits bouncing as she rocked her hips against Scully’s. The coronavirus was outside her control, but this—her body, her pleasure—this she controlled. That she would win was already a forgone conclusion. She could hardly believe Scully had even offered the challenge. “This might be a better view than anything I would find in the Louvre,” Scully said, gaze locked on Stella’s tits. “All the more reason not to go.” Stella began unbuttoning Scully’s blouse, pausing after each button to kiss the newly exposed skin, leaving a wet trail down the center of her chest and over the clasp of her bra. She continued all the way to the waistband of Scully’s jeans, her shirt now hanging open at her sides. Scully looked down at her, chest heaving, bottom lip pinched between her teeth. “Well, don’t stop there.” “Wasn’t planning to.” Stella eased the shirt down Scully’s left arm and then the right before tossing it to the floor. She helped Scully wiggle out of her jeans, dipping her head to kiss her through her underwear before she stripped those away too, followed by her own pants. Once they were both naked, Stella turned her attention to worshipping every inch of Scully’s bare skin. She kissed her breasts, teasing Scully’s nipples until they had tightened into tight rosy buds, which she flicked with her tongue until Scully moaned. Stella looked up and caught her gaze as she began to kiss her way down Scully’s stomach, making sure to pay special attention to all of her most sensitive spots, like that little patch of skin just below her left hipbone, the one that made her whimper and squirm as Stella’s tongue swirled over it. “God, Stella,” Scully groaned, hands fisted in the sheet. “Mm,” she murmured as she flicked her tongue against Scully’s clit, causing her hips to buck upward with a gasp of surprise. Stella was torn between the desire to drive Scully straight over the edge or to hold herself back a bit and at least give Scully a fighting chance. In the end, she wanted this to last as long as possible. Power games in bed were a huge fucking turn on. Just thinking about what was to come had her throbbing in anticipation. She teased Scully with her tongue, licking and sucking but never giving her as much pressure as she knew Scully preferred. She pushed a single finger inside her, thrusting in time with her tongue, toying with her. Scully’s gasping breaths became increasingly labored, her hips shifting restlessly, her arousal fueling Stella’s. She reached between her own thighs, pressing two fingers against her aching clit. She stroked herself once, twice, just enough to give herself momentary relief from the tension building there before returning her hand to Scully’s body, letting her own need drive her as she focused on her wife. She nipped Scully’s clit, drawing a strangled cry from her lips, before trailing a string of wet, open-mouthed kisses down her inner thighs until Scully was writhing beneath her. “Stop,” she mumbled, pushing at Stella’s shoulders. Stella smiled as she complied, sliding up Scully’s body to kiss her on the mouth, tongues tangling, bodies pressed together from head to toe, spreading heat with every movement. They kissed for what felt like hours, and Stella was lost in the sensations, the warmth of Scully’s breath on her cheeks, the weight of Scully’s breasts against her own, the teasing rub of her skin against the parts of Stella that ached for release. And then Scully was moving, shimmying down to position herself between Stella’s thighs. She inhaled sharply, everything inside her tensing in anticipation. Scully was talented in too many ways to name, but the wicked pleasure of her mouth was something that still overwhelmed Stella in the best possible way. She began with one long, slow lick, and Stella felt herself arching off the bed, her body instinctively seeking more. Scully centered the heat of her mouth over Stella’s clit, swirling there until Stella was dizzy with desire, unaware of anything but the hot press of Scully’s tongue and the powerful need coiling inside her. She moved her hips, rocking against Scully’s mouth, allowing herself this moment of surrender before she slid sideways, rolling to face Scully. Need pulsed wickedly inside her, invigorating her, burning away the ugly things that had built in her chest during the day. “Touch yourself,” she demanded, feeling a shiver of excitement as she watched Scully push a hand between her thighs in response. Scully stroked herself, slowly at first, gradually picking up speed. Her lips parted in silent pleasure, and Stella watched, entranced. Scully stared straight into her eyes as she moved, pleasure apparent in the flush on her cheeks and the slightly dazed expression on her face. “You too,” Scully said breathlessly. “Touch yourself.” Stella did, bringing a hand between her thighs, which were already slick with a combination of her own arousal and Scully’s recent attention. She kept her touch light, careful not to give herself too much stimulation, not when Scully had already brought her so close to the edge. She skimmed her fingers over herself as her core clenched, seeking the release she so relentlessly denied herself. “How close are you?” Scully asked, gaze dropping to Stella’s hand, watching as she touched herself. “Not very,” Stella told her, which was technically true, although she could get herself there quickly enough if she allowed it. “On a scale of one to ten,” Scully persisted, her own fingers still moving, stroking. “One being barely aroused, and ten being the point of no return.” Stella smirked. “Six.” “Oh.” Scully slowed her fingers, looking pained to do so. “And you?” Stella couldn’t help asking. “Eight.” She whimpered slightly. “Maybe a nine.” “Interesting.” Stella reached for her, drawing her close. She pushed Scully’s hand aside, replacing it with her own, and fuck, Scully was so wet. It sent a hot thrill through Stella’s body, shooting straight to her clit. Swiftly, she rolled, sliding a thigh between Scully’s in a move streamlined by years of practice, intimate knowledge of exactly how to position herself so that their pussies pressed together for optimal pleasure. Immediately, Scully began to move, grinding vigorously against Stella. “Nine,” Scully gasped. “Definitely a nine.” Stella was headed there pretty quickly herself, her clit thrumming with need beneath the hot, wet slide of Scully’s body. She watched as Scully surrendered, shuddering in her arms, her pussy pulsing against Stella’s as she came, whimpering, hips jerking, and it was so powerful, she nearly took Stella over the edge with her. She began to move against Scully in earnest now, chasing her own release. She arched her hips so that her clit rubbed against Scully’s pelvic bone with each thrust, and yes, this was it. This was perfect. So fucking perfect. Need coiled hot and tight in her core. Scully rolled away with a wicked grin. “I demand a rematch.” “Well, that’s hardly fair,” Stella said, attempting to steady her voice as her thighs pressed together uncomfortably. “Not exactly a level playing field now, is it?” “It’s perfectly fair,” Scully told her. “You deserved to start with a handicap.” And well, she had a point. Even in her current state, Stella could probably still win their bet. She blew out a long, slow breath. Strike that. She could definitely still win their bet. She could win it three times over if she had to. The game was all part of the thrill for her, and as long as it lasted, she didn’t have to think about what was happening outside their flat, the invisible threat she didn’t know how to fight. “All right.” Scully gave her a smug smile, but Stella kissed it right off her face as she moved in, getting right down to business this time. She fucked Scully hard and fast with her fingers, not letting up until Scully was writhing against her all over again. Once she had her sufficiently worked up, Stella withdrew her hand, trailing her glistening fingers over Scully’s stomach, thrilled with the way she trembled beneath Stella’s touch. “And now?” she asked. “Where are you on your little scale?” “At least a seven.” She pressed a thigh between Stella’s legs, angling her hips to give them both some much-needed friction. “You?” “Same.” Stella pressed herself firmly against Scully’s thigh, attempting to hold still, but Scully stymied her with her own movements, causing her thigh to rub rhythmically against Stella’s already hyper-sensitive clit. She gripped tighter with her thighs, allowing it…for now. “You’re so gorgeous when you’re this turned on,” Scully said reverently, tracing a hand over the contour of Stella’s face. “Makes me want to tease you like this forever.” Stella exhaled, hearing the hitch in her breath. Her thighs, still clamped around Scully’s, began to shake. Scully’s hips stilled, bringing them both to a gasping halt. Stella unthreaded their legs, channeling the energy inside her into a blistering kiss, her lips devouring Scully’s, tongues thrusting in an imitation of the act their bodies craved. This kiss was deep and ravenous, feeding a hunger that only grew with each passing moment. Stella could lose herself here, every cell in her body achingly, breathtakingly alive, adrenaline coursing through her veins, all centered in the pulsing ache between her thighs. They moved together, never quite allowing their bodies to touch the way they needed, instead letting the whisper soft brush of skin against skin stoke the fire blazing between them. “Stella,” Scully gasped, fingernails biting into Stella’s back, causing her to exhale sharply in pleasure. “Do that again,” Stella demanded, her voice low and hoarse. Scully’s nails bit into her skin, dragging slowly down her back to dig into her ass, hauling her up against the welcome heat of Scully’s body. Their hips pressed together more firmly now, and Stella couldn’t help but gasp as Scully thrust against her. “Fuck,” Scully mumbled, and Stella grinned against her lips. Despite her best intentions, Scully had very little willpower when it came to postponing her pleasure. “Nine again, hm?” Stella asked. “Yes.” Scully’s movements became increasingly frantic. Stella arched her back, separating their hips, causing Scully to swear. But Stella wasn’t quite ready for this to be over. Not to mention, Scully was also incredibly, impossibly beautiful when she was this turned on. Her blue eyes gleamed with desire, cheeks flushed, breath coming in irregular gasps. Stella slid down to lavish her breasts, licking and sucking as Scully writhed beneath her. And then, Scully rose, flipping Stella beneath her and pinning her to the bed before she’d realized what was happening. “Time to get you to a nine,” Scully panted, and Stella shifted restlessly against the bed. Truthfully, she’d already been there a few times, and it wouldn’t take much to bring her back…or to carry her over the edge. She held herself still as Scully crawled down her body, giving her a heated look before she closed her mouth directly over Stella’s clit, sucking hard. Stella’s hips bucked, and she held her breath against the urge to beg for more. Scully was on a mission, her tongue licking, flicking, swirling with such an intensity that for several long moments, Stella completely lost her wits, grinding shamelessly against Scully’s mouth. Scully pushed two fingers inside her, expertly stroking her upper wall, and just like that… “Nine,” Stella gasped, pushing Scully away as her core clenched desperately against the emptiness left behind. “Oh, I definitely like you like this,” Scully said, eyes burning hot as they raked over Stella’s body, scorching her everywhere they touched. It was all she could do not to bring her hand between her thighs and let Scully watch as she fucked herself right over the edge. Instead, she pounced, hands gripping Scully’s hips as she evened the score. She held nothing back, nipping and sucking at Scully’s clit as she pushed two fingers inside her, followed quickly by a third. She showed no mercy, working Scully hard and fast, dimly aware that she wasn’t even trying to slow Stella down this time. Scully came in a wet rush, her pussy clenching around Stella’s fingers as her body shook and her hips bucked, followed by a long, low cry of relief. Stella rolled to the side, one hand already between her legs, fucking herself as hard as she’d just fucked Scully. “Wait,” Scully gasped, rising unsteadily as a smile stretched her cheeks. “No,” Stella protested, even as her hand stilled. She could wait. She could keep this up as long as Scully wanted to play. But she was ready to come. Her body shook with the effort not to. “I won fair and square. Twice.” “Yes, you did.” Scully planted a hot kiss against her lips. “And you deserve to be rewarded properly for your efforts.” “Do I?” she asked, one hand still pressed firmly between her legs but not moving, holding herself on the brink of release. “Yes,” Scully said with a brisk nod. “Hands off.” Stella complied, desperately curious as to what Scully had in mind. She steadied her breathing, trying to relax, pushing back her need so that she’d last long enough to properly enjoy her reward, whatever it was. Scully scooted to the edge of the bed and opened the drawer where they kept their toys. A fresh wave of arousal rushed through Stella, and she pressed her thighs together. As she watched, Scully took out the hot pink strap-on that was possibly Stella’s favorite possession. Scully slipped into the harness before turning to face Stella, pink cock jutting in her direction, and she couldn’t help it. She moaned. If it was possible to come from anticipation alone, this would be the moment. Scully squirted lube onto one palm and slicked it over the cock, warming it beneath her palms with long, sweeping strokes while Stella clenched her fists in the sheet to keep from touching herself. She ached to be filled, desperation making her weak. “Ready?” Scully asked as she crawled onto the bed, and Stella nodded, thighs parting in anticipation. “You’re so wet for me, Stella,” Scully said as she allowed the head of the cock to brush against Stella’s entrance. “Mm,” she agreed, gripping Scully’s ass, pulling her closer. “Impatient, are we?” Scully quipped, rocking her hips so that the head of the cock slipped inside Stella. She whimpered, too far gone to argue. Scully pressed forward, testing Stella as her body adjusted to the toy before she drew back and slid home, filling Stella completely. She moaned in relief, falling back against the mattress as Scully straddled her, thrusting into her hard and fast, just the way Stella liked. Scully reached between them, stroking Stella’s clit in time with the movement of her hips, and Stella was done for. Her eyes fell shut as she rocked up to meet Scully, barely able to breathe past the need rising inside her, throbbing in her core, building hotter and stronger with each thrust until she thought she might burst from the power of it. “More,” she gasped. Scully picked up the pace, pounding into her as her fingers circled Stella’s clit, harder, faster, and then she was coming, arching off the bed with a moan as the orgasm rushed through her, leaving her hot and tingly in its wake. She lay there, gasping for breath, still impossibly aroused by the feel of the cock inside her and the woman on top of her. Scully paused, allowing Stella a moment to catch her breath before she resumed her movements, this time tilting her hips so that the head of the cock rubbed against Stella’s G-spot on every stroke. She swore as need rose inside her again, impossible stronger and more urgent than before, so intense she could only writhe and swear beneath Scully as she carried Stella swiftly toward a second orgasm. “Come for me,” Scully whispered, and Stella did. Her core ignited with release, pulsing through her with such an intensity, she almost thought she was having an out of body experience. A high, keening cry tore from her throat as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her. It kept coming, she kept coming, as her body released all the tension she’d built up during their game. When she regained her senses, she was limp and shaky, her body covered in sweat, her pussy still tingling with aftershocks of pleasure. “Wow,” Scully whispered. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you come that hard.” Rather than answering, Stella pulled her in for a deep, drunken kiss. She wasn’t entirely sure she could form words just yet, let alone move, so she just lay there, panting for breath, as Scully climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom to clean their toy. She returned a few minutes later and tucked the dildo back into its drawer before sliding into bed, a pink cloth in her hands. She pressed it against Stella’s flushed face. The cloth was warm and damp, and it felt so good as Scully gently wiped the sweat from her skin. She worked her way down Stella’s body, washing away sweat and sex. When she’d finished, she tossed the cloth toward the bathroom and crawled in beside Stella, one arm thrown over her stomach. They lay like that for a while, both of them calm and sated. Scully’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Stella’s skin. “We’ll have a lovely honeymoon here in London when this is over,” she said softly without a trace of disappointment in her tone, true to her word. Stella looked down at the gold band on her finger. She tightened her arms protectively around Scully as teared pooled in her eyes. Despite their self-isolation, what if the virus managed to penetrate their home? What if something happened to Scully? Stella couldn’t bear the thought. Scully closed her eyes, resting peacefully in Stella’s arms. Was she daydreaming about their honeymoon? Stella tried to imagine it, but she found herself picturing Scully sipping champagne on the Eiffel Tower, eating pastries at a sidewalk café, spouting scientific details as Stella showed her magnificent stained glass in Saint Chappelle and Notre Dame, so much stained glass it would take her breath away. If they survived this—when they survived this—how could Stella possibly deny her the honeymoon of her dreams? How could she deny either of them that chance? She held Scully tightly, burying her face in the floral-scented depths of Scully’s hair. “But not as lovely as Paris.” Scully pulled back to give her a baffled look. “You were right,” Stella whispered. “We should go to Paris.” Scully beamed at her with a joy so pure, it warmed even the darkest, most fearful parts of Stella’s heart. “Really?” “Really.” She drew in a breath. “But it will be a while before we can go, Dana, and I don’t—” “I know.” Scully brought their lips together for a gentle kiss. “It took us twenty years to get married. However long we have to wait for our honeymoon, it will be worth it.” Stella nodded as a tear slipped over her cheek, knowing in her heart that it was true.

[tyranttortoise]

Answered Asks Below!

*All right, so I got through some easy SSLL asks and general asks, so if you got a tag notification, it probably means you sent me an ask months ago, and I’m just now getting to it.  Sorry about that!

I’m gonna put all of them under a cut, with also just some thoughts on the past few months, too!

I wasn’t very active on here last year, and man, that sucks!  I really do wanna get back to it.  I felt like my words had been taken from me.  I’d get un-depressed long enough to write, and then something would happen to send me write back down the hole, all of my motivation gone.  

I came back last time, and a few days later, I wrecked a scooter and ended up bleeding all over the streets of Atlanta.  I’m not trying to be gross, but man, there was a lot of blood.  My glasses broke and cut my eyebrow and forehead, so that just poured.  If you guys ever wanna hear the full story just ask, but long story short, I ended up as a trauma in the hospital, got about 8 stitches for my trouble, and broke five ribs, my cheekbone, and my brow.  So that derailed things a bit, then some friends came and stayed with me for nearly a month, and then the holidays hit.  So there’s all the time from when you guys last saw me accounted for, ha.  

I’m still not doing fantastic mentally, but the other day, I was drunkenly telling one of my friends that I just wanted to write, that I wanted the words again, and that I was happiest when I was actively answering asks and talking to everyone on here.

And he said, “Get paper and a pencil or your tablet or you laptop -- whatever you kids use to write.”

“I can’t,” I argued, and he cut me off.

“I’ll help you.  Trust me and get it.”

And he ended up telling me what to write for some stupid UT crackfic that got me laughing and talking about the characters again, and the next morning... I just started writing until I found the words again. 

And now I hope I can keep sharing them with you.  <3

___________________

SSLL Asks:

I enjoyed this way more than I should’ve.  xD Well done!

@crazymadkatt  I’m so glad you enjoyed it! =D  I’d love to do a chapter like that.  It’s one of the tropes I’d been putting off because it was so common in the other reverse harem fics, but it’s been long enough now that I definitely plan on doing my take on it soon!

Oh, a real date’s coming, but let’s just say... I think you’ll like the new update. ;D

He’s a combination of both, I’d say.  The cool, lazy perception of Stretch, with the gruff flirtation of Red.  Wrap all that in a buried past, sprinkle in some extreme devotion to his brother, and mix in a healthy amount of low self-esteem and self-loathing that he tries to hide, and wham!  Rus!

@jukovon​  Hi there!  Sorry for the super belated reply!  8D  I’m so happy that you enjoyed the fic!  As for the Edge screen time... Hopefully, the latest update will help with that!  ;D  I don’t have a Twitter, actually.  I’m not entirely sure how it works.  I recently got into Instagram, and that’s been a weird learning curve, too.

Also, I just looked through your blog, and holy hell, your art is killer! <3

I know exactly what you’re talking about because I used to pretend those were real cigarettes when I was a kid.  I don’t think they’d be sweet enough for him!  Like, his version of the Grillby burger craving is a spider donut from Muffet’s, and he loves honey, so I think he’s got quite the sweet tooth.  I also see him as wanting to roll the sucker stem in his teeth or gnaw on it, and I see those candies as breaking down/ disintegrating too quickly for that.

As much as I’d love to include them, I think my head might explode if I give anymore cameos lol.  But thanks for your interest!

It’s the little details that matter. ;D  Right now, Q’s the only one that gets capitalization.  

Thank you so much!  In the case of HT, I’ve always thought that there was a deeper story -- and the comics have recently been shedding some much needed light on that backstory, too!  I’m a sucker for character development and figuring out what caused them to be that way, you know?

Also, I don’t know why, but I’m really against Crooks with braces.  I dunno, I just think it’d be harder to fix than that because of monster teeth.

@imonlymildlyinsane​  This made me so happy.  <3  When I first started writing him, so many people thought he was weird because he was kinda different from the other SF Paps interpretations, but now I kinda feel like he’s the norm.  He needed an endearment like Stretch and Red, so I went with darlin’ because it’s the one I use the most... because I’m also from the South.  xP  Sweet Home Alabama over here.  Sorry for such a belated reply, but thank you so much for sending this my way!  <33

If we’re talking general Sans and Paps, yes, but SSLL Sans and Paps... they used to be, and Papyrus still keeps up with them through text/social media/functions he attends as the monster mascot, but Sans has really pulled away from his friends after the incident with the machine.  Mostly because he doesn’t want them to find out -- and also wants to keep Frisk far away from Axe.

@desktopdinosaur​  Same skeleton time, same skeleton channel! ;D  

_______________________________________

General Asks:

@kawaiiplum​  Thank you so much!  <3  I’m so stoked that you’re still reading and still excited over the notification!  x]

They’re currently closed, but if I become active again, expect that to change!

Thank you, hun!  I’m glad to see you’re still around, too! =D  I hope everything’s been good with you!

@messedupessy  AHHH, I’ve missed you soulmate!!  <333  Sorry to hear your sleeping schedule’s fucked; mine’s about to be because I’m going to start nightshift and not get home ‘til 7:30am.  xP  I hope I’ll be around more for realz this time, and I’m really glad to see you again!!  <333  I love youuu!

@kuroshiro101  Hey Kuro!  I’ve been not okay, but getting better as a good way to put it.  =D  And I’m absolutely in love with your icon!  <3  How’ve you been doing?

@desktopdinosaur  Happy New Years!!  <3  I hope yours was a blast. =D

I’m stoked to see another x-ray tech Undertale fan!  =D  I definitely think skeleton love is a byproduct of our occupation; even before Undertale, I collected skeleton decor just because it related to my job lol.  Thank you!

I’ve got you!  It was this post, where I brainstormed a few scenarios.   If you’ve written it, let me know!  I think the credit would go to me, if you used that portion, but *shrugs* 8D  You know I’m always down for anyone writing anything about stuff I spit-ball, and I’d love to read it, so sent it my way!

Hanging in there, sweetie!  How about you? <3

When you’re right, you’re right. ;P

@literal-cacophony​  I’m sorry this response is like 3 months late.  8D  But thank you so much for sending this to me!  I wanted to make sure you saw that I got it.  You’re such a sweetheart, and I’m so happy that my writing’s been able to help you.  You guys definitely lift me up with all of these nice comments, and I appreciate it so much.  <33  I hope I can start writing as much as I did back then.

[supersoldiersruined-me]

I Could Never

A/N: This is so late, my brain hasn’t been my best friend lately. But, surprisingly, as I’d mentioned, school seems to have kickstarted my creativity. So here I am with a belated birthday gift for my space girlfriend @stanclub! I’ve already told you and keep saying it but I’m so happy to have you in my life! (at least I’m posting this while we’re still in Leo season! lol) 💕 Warning: um...cursing? no smut in that one. bit of angst. rpf Word count: 1.9k

Main Masterlist  | Drabbles Masterlist 

You had come home once to a fully decorated house, speechless before the immensity of work that was put into it. You hadn’t been able to spend Christmas at home, and Chris wanted to make sure you’d get a taste of it. After swearing that the band-aids on his fingers didn’t cover his struggle with the Christmas tree needles, you had settled down with hot cocoa in front of the fire and played board games until the wee hours of the morning.

On your birthday the year prior, a twelve person table was filled with family and friends who sat around a hearty brunch; his mom - who had grown to love you like her own daughter - joked about the pots of failed hollandaise sauce her son had expertly burned. His final result was amazing though. 

Needless to say that Chris had settled a high level of expectation for surprises; that you soon found out was taken for granted. Flowers, amongst other things, were usually delivered to your house on special occasions, no exception. But only fresh-cut grass is being blown onto the rain stained pavement as you stare at an empty porch, and the sudden chill has you rushing back inside after one last quick glance around.

With your head well rested on the cold ceramic of your stand-alone shower, you let the warm water travel down your body, flushing away the sting of disappointment. Disappointment that, you’ve convinced yourself, holds a lot more meaning than simply being left giftless on your birthday. Salty tears are washed away; gut shivers have seized their attack on your poor nerves. Once the handle of the shower deprives you of warmer water, you settle to give him the rest of the day, while absentmindedly patting yourself dry and heading out to the patio for some fresh air.

The faint buzz of your phone on the wooden chair startles you out of a daydream.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid! How’s it going?” A familiar voice echoes through the speaker with a spark of joy.

“Seen better. How about you, Mackie?” You know he can tell exactly how bad you feel, but he’s learned not to bother people with too many questions. Mostly you.

“T’sall good,” he adds, still bashful. “Hey, do you think you can do me a solid?”

A small sigh escapes your lips. It’s faint enough so he doesn’t feel guilty for asking, but quite effective to relieve a bit of tension in your heart.

“Sure. Seems like I have the day to myself anyway...” You know he can deal with your sarcasm - being a fluent speaker himself.

An hour later and a bottle of milk down, you’re sitting on the couch with his youngest in arm, watching that one scene in Moana on repeat. The floor has become the most hazardous place to walk, but the smell of fresh cookies, and the sweet snoring of the toddler seem to have cheered you up after the frustrating morning. The location of his house on a hill makes for the most beautiful sunset view. The rays bounce on the pool outside and heat up the room wonderfully. Soon the moon would take its place and begin another day, and the thought of having spent it alone brings back a small headache.

You’re setting the baby in his bed when a knock at the door startles you. You tiptoe through the dark house out of habit, which comes in handy for the situation. Not bothered to look out the small window by the door, you spring it open in one swift movement, and your knees practically give in when your eyes meet his baby blues. Before you can put a word in, a series of giggles comes from somewhere on his left; not only indicating that he has company, but that this company is female and apparently trying too hard to impress him. He’s wearing a black shirt, neatly tucked into some clean jeans; just the way you had recently suggested he tried. Hair slicked back and glimmer in his eyes. Dreamy, as usual. Clearly he wasn’t here to help babysit Mackie’s kids.

Another minute goes on before their laughter dims down and Chris seems to acknowledge your existence. 

“Um, listen,” he begins through choked laughs. “I’m gonna need you to put this on.”

You look down at the black strip of fabric in his hand.

“Why should I?” The young girl hisses at your answer and bro-punches him on the arm.

“You said she was feisty. But man, she got you there.” You assume that your eyes dart through her soul because her sparkly smile immediately disappears. She glances quickly at Chris, and waves her hands in front of her before proceeding. “Oh, god. Look, I’m...” Her eyes shut close as she realises what you might have been insinuating. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m just here to take your place. I’m Anthony’s usual babysitter. Chris called me because he wants to ta-”

Her story is punctuated with Chris’ hand on her mouth. His brows rise up as a warning, and the poor girl snakes around you and into the house, taking the hint.

“I don’t know what you want, Chris but I’ve had a long day and I just-”

“Hold on, hold on!” His hand circles your wrist when you try to walk past him. “Y/N, okay look. I don’t want to break the surprise but please, put the blindfolds on and come with me.”

A small laugh comes out in a sigh, and your head shamefully drops down. So there is a surprise.

His finger carefully tips your chin up so he can look at you again.

“You thought I had forgotten?” His accusation is nothing but a friendly remark. Shivers run up your spine at the grin he offers next. “I could never,” he whispers a bit too close to your cheek. The last cloud dissipates and the stars begin to shine brighter. All of a sudden the air is a lot easier to breathe, although your heart seems to run faster.

His hands stretch the fabric in front of you, and you comply to the invitation. With your back towards him so he can secure it properly over your eyes, careful not to tangle your hair into it, you feel like a little kid waiting to unwrap their presents - albeit you’re the one being wrapped up. You curse yourself for doubting him. The ‘I could never’ replays in your mind, oddly pulling new sensations out of you - added to the fact that his breath tickles your neck with his proximity.

The ride is quite short and only makes his intentions much more mysterious. The only option to be ticked off the hypothetical list is him taking you out downtown, which would have taken twice the time. And you’re relieved to have a more casual night, considering the not-so-glamorous sundress covering your body. One thing Chris hadn’t thought of was to keep you from hearing your surroundings. As you stepped out of the car, the splashing of water gave up the first clue. 

“Chris, if you want to throw me down the river this wasn’t-”

“Oh, just shhh.” 

You walk down a small path, small branches snap under your feet, a faint cackling waits in the distance. The humming of the city seems to fade with each stomp, allowing you to relax for the first time today. Once you’re a few more minutes away, the grip on your shoulders tightens, bringing you to a stop. You hear him take a deep breath.

“Alright,” he adds in a soft tone. He steps behind you, and after a little warning takes the blindfold off.

It takes a few blinks before your mind catches onto the scene before you. 

An off-white drape dangles from a few trees, looping around poles and creating an inviting tent - the ones so popular in fancy home renovation magazines. A picnic cloth sits underneath it, and everything is beautifully lit with a generous amount of fairy lights, tiki lamps and a slow burning campfire along the water line. The sight is mesmerizing, something out of a children’s book, and it has you wanting to shout “I do believe in fairies!” 

The moonlight dances on the lake and glistens back into your watery eyes. With your hands over your mouth you turn around to him. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and his look is to die for. He’s soft and proud and his eyes are full of something new. Something you can’t quite figure out yet.

“This is just…” Your eyes dart back to the secluded area. Something he bothered his siblings with, you’re sure of, until they agreed to lend a hand after their mom insisted Chris’ intentions were founded. But you know he came up with the idea himself. Had it not been for his money, you think, this would’ve been a home-made fort in his living room, and you wouldn’t have complained - although the extra attention does make you feel warm and loved.

Loved. There’s the feeling.

In a rush, you tiptoe towards him, anchoring your arms around his neck and in a heap of passion, your lips come to his. Surprise suddenly takes him victim, until he responds and starts moving his lips, then tongue, against yours. You part with a huff, looking for your breath - which seems to be the theme for the night. His mouth rests on your forehead as he keeps your bodies connected. Hands roam the other in search for meaning. Answers. It’s with drips on your cheeks and a childish giggle that you dip your head back.

“Was about time,” he teases. You puffs in fake annoyance before stealing a couple more pecks. 

“I didn’t see you make the first move...”

“I threw you all sorts of hints! Why did it have to be me?” You laugh at his remark.

“Alright, touché. But still. Thought you were old-school about this kind of stuff,” you clarify.

“I’m old-school as in I like to make sure that she’s the one, you know. All those years I planned things and bought some random stuff and you never asked for more. I could shit in a cup and you’d be hap-”

“Christopher! Fucking mood killer!” You pat him on the chest with your comical accusation, earning a deep laugh - minus the boob grab because he wasn’t about to take his hands from you.

“You get what I mean. You never made a big deal out of this,” he adds as he waves behind you. “You never made a big deal out of me. You let me buy things without always making me feel guilty for having this luxury. And then when I want to watch football with beer, wings and ribs stuck in my teeth you join in with a huge smile of excitement. I love the contrast...”

He closes his eyes for a second, trailing the last words in a shy whisper. Your hand comes to his cheek and your heart melts when he leans into it, water now overflowing under his long lashes.

“And I think I love you,” you say. His sparkly baby blues shot open, volleying between yours and analysing your expression. Looking for a hint of doubt, maybe. But then again, wasn’t this what he had always hoped for?

“I think I fucking love you too,” he answers. He kisses you, as if to seal a deal. 

Best birthday ever.

[softnow]

Mini fic: barefoot

this is an extremely belated follow-up to light, my post-millennium ficlet. i wrote all of it but the last ~3 lines on the first of the year and then promptly forgot about it lol

— — —

He wakes to an empty bed. One arm aches; the other—the one that had pillowed a soft red head as they fell asleep—is not numb. He had been looking forward to the numbness. A new sensation. Proof in his deadened nerves that she had been here. That he had held her.

Now, though, his arm is fine and his bed is cold and a sharp mix of panic and disappointment lances through him. She left. Of course she left. He should have kissed her again. Or maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her at all.

He shifts higher on his pillow, wincing against the heavy throb in his shoulder, and something on his dresser catches his eye: her clothes, neatly folded, right where she left them. The tight coil of anxiety loosens. Unless she drove home in his boxer shorts and old Sunoco t-shirt, she’s still here. She’s still here.

He stands, noting with pleasure that he doesn’t feel as woozy anymore, and goes to the bathroom. The spare toothbrush beside his is wet, and the toothpaste tube has been carefully rolled from the bottom and recapped. He grins through a mouthful of minty foam. The year 2000 is shaping up to be mighty fine indeed.

Finished with his morning routine, he pauses only long enough to confirm that her clothes are still there, that she didn’t pull a runner on him while he tried to wash his face one-handed, before going in search of her. He finds her in the living room, and for a moment, all he can do is stare.

She stands in front of the window, her back to him, leaning against the desk. His blanket from the couch, the one he found her in last night, is now draped around her shoulders, shrouding her all of the way to the floor. Above it, her crinkled, curling hair is the only part of her he can see.

She is...the tiniest thing. He forgets sometimes. She takes up so much space in his brain and his life that he imagines her fifty feet tall, untouchable, his very own Irish Catholic Amazon.

He crosses the room before he can think about it, and if she hears him, she doesn’t show it. He stops behind her and wraps his good arm around her waist, pulling her back into him. She comes willingly.

“Good morning,” she says, hushed, like there’s someone else they could wake.

“G’morning,” he says. And then, because he can’t help himself, “You’re still here.”

She nods towards the window. “It snowed.”

Oh.

“Oh,” he says, disappointment winding up again in his belly.

Stupid, he thinks. She’s here. Does it really matter why?

(Yes, a quiet part of him answers. Yes, it really does.)

She turns slightly in his awkward embrace and, as if reading his mind, offers him a gentle smile. “And I wanted to be.”

He smiles back, dopey. She wanted to be.

Her cheeks color and she looks away, back to the window.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Great,” he says and permits himself one gentle nuzzle of his nose to her hair. She smells like sleep-sweat and sarsaparilla. He notices for the first time a mug of tea clutched in her hands.

“Do you want another pill?”

“Nah,” he says. “I’m good for now.”

He leans into her a little bit more, and she doesn’t stiffen when he rests his chin on her shoulder. A glance down shows him her little toes peeking out from the edge of the blanket. He could count on one hand, probably, all of the times he’s seen her barefoot. Her motel slippers are as ubiquitous as her shiny silk jammies. Something about her tiny pinky toes on his hardwood floor fills him with immense protectiveness. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

She’s quiet for a moment, like her hunger is something she has to gauge carefully and scientifically. “A little.”

“I have eggs,” he says, which, well. Might not be entirely true. But he’ll march through the snow, wounded arm and all, to get her eggs, if that’s what she wants.

“In a minute.” One of her hands, warm from her mug, finds his over her stomach. She threads their fingers together and gives him a little squeeze. Then, “I slept well.”

She says it quietly, furtively, like it’s a big secret that she’s only telling him because she trusts him very, very much. He grins.

“Oh, did you?”

“Mm.”

He nuzzles her again. Whispers, “I did, too.”

She looks back at him. It’s the same look she gave him last night, soft and unguarded, and he feels that same elemental tug.

“Hey, Scully.” He leans in, so close she begins to blur.

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m going to kiss you again, if that’s alright.”

Her eyes widen, and then she smiles—just a little, just the corners of her lips.

“Okay?” he asks, because he wants to be sure.

She nods once, a small dip of her chin. She whispers, “Okay.”

Their mouths meet softly, then firmer, firmer. Her tongue tastes like mint and herbs and the year 2000. She is his only resolution. It is a long, long time before they venture out for eggs.

[mytreefiddy]

It’s SO hard... .

This old planet has made another revolution and another candle is on the birthday cake for me. 

I get home from my birthday trip and make the rounds with my friends and to catch up on their 4th of July weekend stories. A few post celebratory drinks later I end up at Mike’s house.

Now Mike was the first person to welcome me to the neighborhood and I was as much as a part of his family as he was mine.  His wife Kelly was as sweet as they come and quite easy on the eyes along with their two kids.  Their daughter, Taylor was a tomboy and a bit of a trouble-maker if I ever saw one and I had watched her grow up over the years into a bright young women.  She just finished her first year of college and seemed to be setting the world on fire.  That being said...there was a change I noticed in her.  She seemed to be acting a little younger that normal.

Let me set the stage, we were very close and I was the first person she called when she got drunk for the first time so she would have a safe ride home.  I was the one she talked to about the tough stuff and even the good stuff.  Looking back I would say we had a very close bond and we would always hug and I would give her a kiss on the cheek as any good friend would do.  She would sit in my lap or on my knee and really no big deal.

College has always been a time for change and exploration and when she came back and I noticed she was acting a little different, I just thought it was part of the experience.  She seemed a bit more clingy to me, but I thought that was here being grateful for a good friendship.  She was still a bit of a trouble-maker...no..not robbing a bank or stealing the car, but just a bit snarky and would sneak a bit or two of your dessert.  This evening I was eating a cookie and she just leaned over and bit off the other end and laughed.  She has such a sweet devilish laugh.  I gave her the look and she sheepishly looked away...but before she did...she bit her lip...did she really do that???  No, I am sure she was just getting a crumb or something off her lips.  As usual I goosed her sides as payback and the evening continued.

I had the next day off, so I wasn’t worried about a few more drinks and we continued tell stories of our college days (tried to keep them pretty clean) and Taylor shared the usual trials and tribulations of being a Freshman.  Throughout the night I noticed that Taylor was staring at me even when I wasn’t sharing my college adventures.  She was also kind of snuggled up against me and her little dress kept riding up and the top was not staying put.  Let be honest, this wasn’t the first time I saw a flash of panties or a little skin...that just happens when you are around people that much.  You file it away as a Whoa! moment and try to look away faster next time. 

Taylor still had some baby fat, she wasn’t chubby, but had a nice little shake when she walked and when she flossed, everything seemed to move just right.  And yes, I looked away when it became a little to weird.  This night I probably saw more than I should have, but I was a bit drunk so my look-away reaction was just slower....was it?  She also was calling me her other daddy...that was new.  She said I always looked out for her (which I did), but was a little weird being call daddy. 

The night went on and my vision was a little bit fussy and I noticed my hand was on something soft and skin...and...why is my hand on Taylor’s bottom under her skirt?  Taylor was just talking away to her parents and from this angle no one could see.  I tried to move my hand away, but she kept shifting her body to keep it in place.  What the hell??   I quickly excused myself to go to the bathroom.  Did I do that, did SHE do that????  I need to get out of here before something happens.  It was a very nice ass though and those cute panties that she use to wear was now a thong...okay..stop...Okay..thinking about something else.

I told Mike and Kelly that I was going to go back home and thanks for the great evening and drinks.  They said I should stay and Taylor agreed.?.?  I said I was just going to walk home and it would just be easier so I wasn’t in the way in the morning.  I gave them both hugs and a kiss on Kelly’s cheek...a little too close to the lips...man her body felt great against mine...okay...Yes you are now drunk and not thinking straight...go home.  I gave Taylor a hug and kiss on the cheek...but this time she turned and it was more on the lips.  I shook it off and told her goodnight and she said the same...but really softly after she added daddy.  I was out the door!

Just as I was about to close the door, I heard Taylor say, “Wait a minute, I will drive you home...I have to go to the store to pick up a few things.”  I tried to pretend I didn’t hear anything...but she ran out grabbed my hand and said hold on.  She ran back inside and grabbed her glasses, not the glasses...I love her glasses.  I get in her car and kind of pretend to be resting and she is driving me home and just talking away.  I told her thank you and that she should get to the store before it gets too late and to text me when she is home so I know she is safe.  She tells me that the reason she is going to go to the store is for me...I say why.  She tells me she is going to make me a belated birthday cake.  I tell her there is no reason to and to save her money.  Taylor tells me that she is going to do it so just shut up!  I goose her again and joking tell her you don’t talk to you daddy that way.  She sits up tall and says, “Yes Sir!”.  I tell her okay silly I need to get to bed and thanks again.  She then asks if I have any cake mix...I tell her no, I am a chef and I just make it from scratch.  She asks for the recipe and I tell her I will text it to her tomorrow and she says, I need to get the ingredients tonight.  I cave and tell her she can borrow one of my books and go from there. 

We get inside and I stumble a bit in the door and Taylor laughs.  “You okay daddy”, she says.  I say funny and start looking for the book.  After a moment or two I find it, but Taylor is no where to be found.  I call out for her and she is in the kitchen.  “Can I borrow some coconut oil”, she says, I say sure and send her on her way.

I go to the bathroom and do the whole movie sceen with my hands on the sink looking in the mirror talking to myself.  That was close..what was close??  Seemed like something was going to happen...what do you mean?  You are imagining things and you are just drunk and horny...get your shit together.  Note to self, need a girlfriend fast...lol. 

I leave the bathroom and I hear, “OoOOo, Daddy’s been working out.”  Taylor what are you doing?  I though you left...she said I did, but I know where you extra key is (Great!  Now I need to hide that somewhere else).  “What are you doing on my bed?”, I say.  “It is more comfortable than mine.”, Taylor responds.  Okay, you need to get going...this is weird.  “You were the one with their hand on my little ass.”, she responds.  Well I didn’t put it there.  “I know.” she says, but that what made it so fun.  Not thinking, I say, “You are so bad!”.  “Only for you Daddy!”, she responds.  Okay, you really need to go.  “Daddy, you will have to make me.” she says as she bites her lip.  Okay, I go over to the bed and pick her up and take her to the door.  “You forgot my keys...they are by the bed”, she says.  I go back and get them and then she forgot something else over and over again.  I finally set her down and sit on the bed.  I am too tired for these games.  I need to get to sleep.  She says, “Go ahead, I am not stopping you.”  I crawl under the covers and roll over. 

I must have fallen asleep and the next thing I feel is someone sitting on me.  I look up and Taylor is on top of me with her little dress still on.  The straps are slowly falling down her arms and the only thing that keeps the top on is the very edge of the lace trim draped across her hard little nipples.  “Do you like them”, she says?  She gives a little shake and her top falls off.  Her breasts are perfect, perky, and full...she leans in and lets her nipples slowly glaze over my face.  She smiles that devilish grin at me and runs her hands slowly down my chest.  I grab them before she gets too low to stop her and she leans over and puts her breast in my face.  I move my hands to gently push her away and her hand reaches down and slides her hand over me.  She then pulls me up closer to her as she is slowly starting to slide up and down and I hear a slow...almost purr..and she says, “Yes, daddy.” ever so softly. 

“Taylor, come on”, I say.  We can’t do this... .  “It’s okay, you are not my really daddy...”, she moans.  “Your parents are my best friends...”, I say.  Before I can say another word, she locks lips with me.  I so don’t want to do this as I tense up.  Her mouth is so soft and feels so good, I grab her by the back of her ponytail with one hand and the other on her tight little ass and pull her closer to me.  She gasps with pleasure as she wants more.  I help guide her gliding up and down my shaft...that feels so good.  My cock finds its way out of my boxers and now I can feel every fold as she glides up and down.  Her panties are so wet and just fuels the desire. 

By now I have learned all of her hot spots as I found out she likes to have her nipples bitten and then sucked on hard and if my right hand “accidentally” lets a finger caress her little back-side she goes wild as she rides me, pressing so hard.  Pretty soon she had pulled her panties aside and her kitty lips are around my shaft sliding up and down.  With every movement my head is getting closer to going inside her at one point I gasp as I though I was going all the way in and had to stop.  Oh! She feels so good I don’t want it to stop.  I look at her deep and tell her, “We can’t.”  She seems to relent a bit but we are pushing every limit.  I can feel my cock throbbing as she is leaning back and moaning.

All of a sudden she stops dead in her tracks and looks into my eyes.  “Daddy, I need you to Fuck me or make me cum!  I can’t take it any longer.” she moans.  I flip her around so she is on top of me.  For the first time I can really see her little blue thong, so wet that it is see through.  I pull her close to my face gentle teasing her with my tongue on every spot but the one she really wants.  I feel her lips wrap abound my shaft...I let out a slight moan...I want nothing more to slowly feed her every inch and not stop.  I tell her, “No, it is your turn sweetheart.”  “Thank you daddy.”, she says while she takes it deep a couple of times and slowly kisses the head.  I pull her panties off and start to get closer to what she wants.  Deeper and deeper I go as reach the base and slowly let my tongue split her lips and what starts as a soft moan goes to a loud plea of more.  Deeper and deeper I go as my tongue explores every nook not wanting to get her off to soon but wanting her to enjoy the ride.  I found every spot that drove her crazy and a few unexpected ones that make her screen louder.  My fingers joined in on the action taking care to give those special spots extra attention.  My lips were swollen, but sucking on her lips and clit gave her so much pleasure, I couldn’t stop.  I turned her over and wrapped my lips around her clit and two fingers were inside at putting pressure on the top in just the right spot.  Her body was shaking and her moans were louder as she exploded all over my face.  I could have stayed there for hours... . 

She looked at me and said, “Oh, you poor face daddy.”  As she leaned over and licked up every drop.  “Was I a good girl?”, she looked at me and asked as she laid her body against me.  There was so much more I wanted to do and needed to do, but I am glad we stopped before things got every more carried away.  “Yes, yes you were a perfect little girl!”, I told her and then kissed her.

Time seemed to stand still for a long time and then just as nothing happened, we said our goodbyes...although the kissing lingered and she got in her car and left. 

I went back and laid down and tried to think of the amazing night and push the guild aside.  As I was drifting off to sleep, I got a text.  It was Taylor and she said, I picked up the cake supplies and there was a picture if a grocery bag and then a tub of frosting and sprinkles out of the bag that Taylor was holding.  I told her thank you and that I wasn’t that big of a sprinkle fan...but she responded.  You will be!!!..... .

[yaz-the-spaz]

Beautiful Monster (Part 3)

so this is the last installation that will be posted on tumblr! the complete fic will be posted on ao3 later tonight has now been posted on ao3!

also this was supposed to be my New Year’s Day gift to you guys but i just didn’t have a chance to review it like i wanted to in time so it’s just gonna have to be a (way) belated New Year’s gift lol but on the bright side inspiration did happen to strike for the threequel fic during the interim of me finalizing the edits for this fic so it all worked out in the end and you’ll actually be getting a double feature/double belated New Year’s present cause the latest chapter for that will be up soon too (most likely by tomorrow)!

Summary: Zayn is a homeless vampire who, unbeknownst to Liam, has been routinely breaking into Liam’s van for a warm place to sleep. When Liam catches him in the act things end up going in a direction no one expected. And then shit gets weirder. Because Liam might also be hiding some secrets of his own…

Part 1 here

It’s a Thursday afternoon when Niall pops by out of the blue.

The doorbell rings and Zayn goes to answer it cause Liam’s in the middle of feeding the dogs their dinner. He figures it’s probably just someone trying to sell something anyway and he’d rather just let Zayn be the one to tell them to bugger off, but he snaps up when he hears a familiar voice on the other side, that familiar Irish brogue that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Um…hello. You’re not Liam. Liam does still live here, yeah?”

Zayn nods politely. “He does. Who’s asking?”

“His mate, Niall. And you are?”

Zayn perks up at this news, seemingly excited to be meeting a friend of Liam’s, sticks out a hand and smiles brightly. “Zayn, Liam’s live-in booty call.”

Liam blanches, rushing over to the door stiffly.

“Um, Niall, hey,” he says, ushering Niall inside quickly, hoping the previous topic of conversation goes forgotten. “I didn’t know you were in town, when’d you get in?”

“Just a couple hours ago. Only here for the weekend really, but I came straight here cause I had to see my Payno of course. How’ve you been, mate? Pretty well I’m assuming,” he says with a grin, dropping his bags just inside the door and turning back to size Zayn up appreciatively.

“Uh, yeah, you know, same old, same old mostly. Work’s been good and the dogs are okay, can’t complain. Zayn is—” he stops, not quite sure how exactly to describe what Zayn is and opting instead to just skirt around it. “Zayn’s been a great help. He’s just, um, he’s staying here temporarily until he can get back on his feet.”

“Oh…okay.” Niall nods but he still looks a little confused, though he doesn’t inquire any further, maybe sensing somehow that it’s not something Liam’s really eager to talk about right now in front of present company.

Zayn smiles at Niall politely, offering to take his coat and Niall shrugs out of it obediently, kicking off his shoes in the process.

Niall follows Liam into the kitchen as Zayn goes to put up his coat and bag and when they’re a safe distance away Niall leans into him and says, “So, what exactly is going on here? Is this, like, a roommate situation? You short on cash or something and renting out your couch? Or are you two dating and you decided to jump the gun and let him move in early or…? Cause, I mean, I know I miss a lot sometimes when I’m gone especially when I have no cell service but when I last FaceTime’d you a couple months ago you said you still weren’t seeing anyone and now you’ve apparently got a live-in boyfriend? What’s the story there?”

Liam shrugs, avoiding Niall’s eyes. “None of the above but also sort of…all of the above?” Liam sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s complicated, okay? But he’s not my boyfriend. We’re just…”

“Sleeping together while you let him stay in your house till he gets back on his feet?”

Liam looks at him miserably but Niall raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m not judging. If it works, it works. As long as you’re happy, you know? That’s all that matters to me. And I mean, he’s well fit so, y’know, good job there.” He smirks. And then a thought seems to occur him and leans in a bit closer, lowers his voice even more, serious now. “Does he know about your…you know?” he asks.

“No,” Liam says emphatically. “And I plan to keep it that way.”

Niall nods solemnly in understanding, dropping the subject and Liam’s grateful.

Niall’s the only “normal” mate he’s got who knows about his secret and has still stuck around. But he travels a lot, always backpacking through Europe or spelunking in Asia or hitchhiking across the Americas (yes, Americas as in plural, as in hitchhiking his way from Canada all the way down to Argentina) so Liam usually only really sees him about twice out of the year most years—for the holidays and whenever else he happens to be in town and decide to pop by Liam’s out of the blue like he’s just done. They’ve been friends pretty much since they wound up roomed together at uni, where Niall, the only actual geography major Liam had ever met, would stay up late talking Liam’s ear off about all the places he wanted to travel to (not that Liam minded cause Niall’s a great storyteller and Liam actually learned a lot from him over those years about all sorts of different places). When Niall discovered travel blogging and found out there was a way he could actually get paid to travel he jumped at the opportunity and has been pretty much steadily country-hopping ever since they graduated. They talk on the phone as often as they can when Niall’s got service or access to decent working wi-fi and Liam’s got a whole drawer full of postcards Niall’s sent him over the years. But even though they don’t see each other as often as Liam would like Niall’s still one of his best mates and apparently still knows him too well.

He stays for dinner and after a bit the slight awkwardness hanging in the air seems to dissipate and the three of them are eating and talking like they’ve all known each other for years instead of just him and Niall. Niall regales them with stories of his latest travels; an incident with goats stealing and apparently trying to eat his luggage in Papua New Guinea, the triumphs of winning over and befriending the meanest donkey in all of Greece, how he was unofficially adopted by one of the elders in a bamboo-weaving village called Ngũ Xã and now has a Vietnamese grandmother.

Liam laughs so much his cheeks are sore by the end of the night, as are his abs, but such is the usual with Niall. As is also the usual with Niall though is the inevitable goodbye and Liam’s already dreading it before it comes but he’s still glad to have had this surprise visit at all even if it was a bit awkward at first. As he hugs Liam goodbye Niall promises he’ll be coming home more often from here on out though and that’s enough to warm Liam’s spirits for now despite his too-sudden departure as Niall sees himself out with a wave and bright grin, rucksack slung over his shoulder. And then Liam is alone with Zayn again. Alone with his own uncertainties and feelings and his messy thoughts.

*

“So what do you guys actually do at these conferences?” Zayn asks in the van on their way back from another highway roadkill stock-up just before Liam’s due to leave again. “Do you just, like, sit around eating barbeque, crushing beer cans against your heads, arm wrestling and organizing pissing contests whilst talking about construction stuff?”

Liam snorts, flashing an amused grin at Zayn. “Is that what you imagine we do? Like a giant frat party or something?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, it certainly sounds kinda like one. I mean you meet every month at some super secret location that—considering you have such shoddy service the whole weekend has gotta be, like, way out in the wilderness somewhere—just to eat a bunch of meat and drink beer with a bunch of other guys for three days. Sounds a hell of a lot like something a bunch of frat boys would do to me.”

“Bit unfair of you to assume that everyone who’d go to a construction conference is a guy, and a butch one at that,” Liam says deftly trying to change the subject.

“Touché. In retrospect, I guess that was an unfairly stereotypical judgment to make,” Zayn concedes with a nod. “But seriously though, what do you guys actually do besides grilling meat cause I’m having a hard time imaging what riveting events you could possibly get up to at a construction conference that would make everyone wanna come back as frequently as every month. D’you lot, like, exchange insider secrets on the performance of the construction trade in the stock market? Make elaborate bets on who’s gonna sell the most piping this year? Build a giant secret fortress in the woods? I mean, like, what is it?”

“Christ, look, it’s just a gathering of a bunch of like-minded people where we can just get together and blow off a bit of steam for a few days, okay?” he snaps, tone a bit too terse, a bit too defensive, although it’s not entirely a lie. Not really. But anyway he hadn’t even meant to snap, it’s just Zayn’s asking too many questions and it’s both not the time nor is Liam in the right mood or headspace to deal with being given the third-degree right now, even if it is half-jokingly. He’s wound up and on edge and he just really, really wants to get on the road already and be far away from here and away from Zayn and all his questions. “It’s not that big a deal, alright, so can we just drop it?”

Zayn raises his hands in defense. “Okay, okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I know you tend to get kinda testy and stressed out before these things, I didn’t mean to upset you, I shouldn’t have pushed.” Zayn’s quiet for a little while before he says softly, tentatively, like he’s afraid of setting Liam off again, “But maybe—I mean, I don’t know if you’re allowed to bring, like, a plus one to these things, but maybe…if you are…maybe one time I could come along with you—I mean, only if you want of course—but it’d just be nice to meet some of your mates, you know? I mean it’s been three months and I haven’t met any of them yet except for Niall, although, like, if you don’t want me to that’s cool too, I totally understand, but I just thought it’d be nice to, like, hang out, you know, like outside of the house.”

Fuck. There Liam goes again not thinking about anyone but himself. He hadn’t even considered that Zayn might feel like Liam’s hiding him. Like he’s a secret to be ashamed of. He wishes he could tell Zayn that that’s not why he hasn’t met any of Liam’s friends. That it has nothing to do with Zayn himself or their current living arrangements or Liam being ashamed of him and wanting to hide him away or keep him a secret.

But he can’t tell Zayn any of that without inviting more questions that he won’t be able to answer so instead he just mutters a noncommittal, “Maybe,” and leaves it at that, knowing full well it’s an empty half-promise because Zayn knowing anything about what actually goes on at these weekend gatherings would be a monumentally bad, bad idea.

*

Predictably he finds out anyway.

*

“What the he—Liam?” There’s a gentle touch at his shoulder. “Liam…Liam?”

Liam blinks gritty eyes open to bright sunlight streaming down on him, Zayn’s blurry face slowly coming into focus above him, sunlight bracketing his head like a halo. There’s a soreness that penetrates every muscle in his body, every fiber of his being, sunk down into his bones, his very cells, pumps through his blood like a visceral thing, but none of that’s new. This isn’t where he’s supposed to be though. The previous day is a blur and as usual he’s groggy as all hell but he’s aware enough to know immediately that this is not where he usually wakes up. Not where he’s supposed to be waking up. The grass, the trees, they’re too familiar. As is the face still currently looming above him.

“Zayn?” Liam croaks hoarsely in confusion, trying to sit up, to re-acclimate himself to this body.

“Are—are you…okay?” Zayn says, eyes full of concern as he looks Liam over.

“Course,” Liam says automatically without thinking. That gets him an even more concerned look from Zayn and Liam sits up properly, trying ineffectively to clear his throat of the raspiness that he already knows won’t fade for at least another couple of hours as he rubs at his eyes and takes in deep breaths of the crisp winter air to wake himself up fully.  It’s not until he’s more alert and full awareness of the situation catches up to him that he realizes just how fucked he is—how this must all look to Zayn—and finds himself scrambling for some sort of halfway believable explanation but coming up completely blank.

He’s naked, covered in dirt and possibly a bit of blood, being woken up in his own backyard miles from the “conference” Zayn believed him to be at and smelling like absolute filth. And his first response had been to act like everything was totally fine and this was all completely normal—which it is for the most part, for him, with the exception of waking up in his own backyard. Zayn though is looking at him like he has two heads and Liam shakes his head quickly, trying to backtrack.

“I mean…um…” Liam falters, grasping at straws for to how to explain any of this without revealing everything he’s tried to keep so carefully hidden. “…Would you believe me if I said I was kidnapped and I have no idea how I got here?” he tries.

Zayn just blinks at him.

*

“So…your not-butch, not-all-male, not-douchy mates from the construction conference...that you just told me wasn’t at all like a frat…kidnapped you, stripped you, and left you naked and covered in dirt and blood in your own backyard…all as part of some sort of elaborate hazing ritual?” Zayn repeats slowly, squinting at Liam dubiously.

Liam nods, fidgeting in his seat at the counter in a lame attempt to avoid Zayn’s eyes. He’s showered and fully clothed now and nursing a mug of tea Zayn made for him to “warm him up” after being left naked in the freezing cold for so long. He doesn’t bother telling Zayn that he doesn’t really need it. The cold doesn’t much bother him in his other body, and even once he turns back it takes a little while for normal human sensitivity to really set back in anyway.

“So, then, are they gonna bring back your van too? And your clothes and all your other stuff that got left there?”

Liam looks up at him, startled two-fold. One, because he hadn’t expected Zayn to actually believe him, though he supposes he still might not but it could just be that he doesn’t wanna pry and is just willing to go along with it because he thinks it’s what Liam wants. And two, because he hadn’t thought of any of that himself and is now wondering how the hell he’s gonna reach the others to let them know what happened (and see if they can bring back his stuff for him) without his phone.

“You know, on second thought, I don’t think I wanna meet your friends after all if they’re the kind of arseholes that would pull some shit like this and just dip. Leave you with your dick swinging in the wind. Literally…” Zayn says, plopping into the seat next to him at the counter and shaking his head.

To be continued...

[Read the full rest of the full fic now on ao3]

[rhaenyra--targarvyen]

Pizza

A (belated) birthday gift for @the-crazy-lemonade-lady ! Sorry it’s late!

Inspired by a post I saw a couple days ago that I just couldn’t not write a full fic for...

Peter hasn’t seen a mess this large since that unfortunate day in chemistry last year where Marcus Stone (accidentally) almost blew up half the lab. 

Of course, it’s awesome too. Every superhero he’s grown up aspiring to be like, raised on stories of their bravery and self sacrifice in the face of impossible odds, are all in one place. Not fighting each other. And Wakanda is amazing. So he’s not exactly surprised that things are so crazy, but really-it’s just pizza toppings. 

Tomorrow they all go their separate ways to fight Thanos (or, as Mr. Stark likes to call him, the giant space grape) but for tonight they feast like champions. Apparently, that means the best pizza that Wakanda has to offer. 

“Spider-Man, give us a headcount,” Mr. Stark says, and Peter complies: there’s Captain America, Black Widow, Thor, Hawkeye, and Dr. Banner, along with the New Avengers War Machine, Falcon, Vision, and Scarlet Witch. There’s the Winter Soldier-or the White Wolf, now. There’s Doctor Strange. There are the ‘good’ aliens: Other Peter, Gamora, Drax, Mantis, the talking raccoon, and the talking tree. And then there’s King T’Challa and Princess Shuri and a bunch of the Dora Milaje who are watching the chaos and trying not to look entertained. “How many pizzas are we going to need?”

Peter is pretty sure that a few of them could eat a pizza or two on their own. “We have twenty. Do we want leftovers?”

“Yes,” Shuri pipes up. 

“So...thirty?” 

Other Peter is talking about how he hasn’t had real pizza in twenty years. Apparently they don’t have it in space. Poor aliens-they’re really missing out. 

“Better make it forty.” Tony jots this down. “You never know when pizza is going to come in handy.” He raises his voice so he can be heard above the general clamor of introductions and half joking arguments. “What does everyone want for toppings?” 

There’s no (definable) response: either no one hears him or no one cares.

Tony gestures towards the fray. “Do some mingling, Spiderling. Introduce yourself while you’re at it.” Of course. Because Peter’s only here to be the errand boy. He had to fight hard to even let Tony allow him to go to space. He hates to see all that effort go to waste now. 

Okay Peter, he thinks as he approaches the first knot of people: Captain America, Dr. Banner, War Machine, and Black Widow. Be cool. Still, his voice squeaks a little bit when he says “Mr. Stark wants to know what toppings you want on your pizza.” 

Dr Banner raises his eyebrows. “When Tony said he hired a kid I didn’t realize he actually meant-”

“I’m going to be eighteen in October.” But he’s used to the jabs about his age-another reason why he’s glad he’s not an actual Avenger. The jokes would be unbearable. 

Black Widow rolls her eyes. “He’s a good fighter. And we need all the help we can get.” He feels himself stand a little bit straighter, buoyed by sudden praise. “Black olives.” 

“Half cheese, half pepperoni and sausage.” Dr. Banner shakes his hand. “Nice to meet you-”

“Peter. I’m Peter. It’s good to see you, Dr. Banner. Although I’m glad you’re not a giant green rage monster.” 

He laughs. “Call me Bruce. And I’m glad too, Peter.” 

Captain America wants all sausage. “How’s Queens?” 

“It’s...Queens.” He’s tempted to ask how is life being a wanted fugitive but he worries Cap might take that the wrong way and he would rather not have an Avenger pissed off at him, especially Captain America. 

“I’ll take meat lover’s if they have it,” Colonel Rhodes says. “Tony should know that.” They nod at each other. Peter has been interning at the Avengers base for Tony the last couple of summers, so they see each other pretty often. It’s nice to see another familiar face, in the middle of all these super people. 

He writes all of this down and says his goodbyes before he moves onto the next group: Thor and the aliens. “Do you guys want pizza?” 

Thor nods very seriously. “I would like all the toppings on my pizza.” 

The raccoon swears. “You can’t be serious. That’s disgusting.” 

Gamora rolls her eyes. “Leave him alone, Rocket.” She turns to look at Peter and he realizes offhandedly that she’s kind of hot, green skin and all. “Pepperoni and black olives.” 

Other Peter looks like a little kid at Christmas. “Half pepperoni, half canadian bacon. That’s what I always used to get when I was a kid.” He looks at Peter in confusion. “Aren’t you kind of young to be an Avenger?”

“Yeah. I’m not, actually. Technically. I got an offer, but I turned it down. I’m a friend of Mr. Stark’s.” He gets the feeling they’ve already stopped listening. 

“I hear you’re going to space with us,” the talking raccoon says. “How long can you hold your breath?”

Other Peter steps on his foot. “Rocket, be nice.” 

“It’s a fair question-”

“Just order your pizza toppings.”

“Pineapple.”

“That’s gross, no one gets pineapple on their pizza-”

The raccoon responds with a series of words that Peter is pretty sure he’s not allowed to repeat, so he moves on to the other three aliens instead. 

“What is this ‘pizza’?” Drax says, looking like he wants to break Peter’s spine. Or maybe that’s just his normal expression. 

Peter is just panicking over how to explain pizza to an alien when Mantis says “It’s like...a pie, except instead of chocolate and whipped cream it’s sauce and toppings.”

Drax still looks confused but Other Peter seems to realize what’s going on so he says “Just order a couple cheeses and a couple pepperonis. We’ll figure it out.”

Peter goes to the talking tree next, who’s playing Angry Birds on a cell phone that looks like it saw its heyday ten years ago. “I am Groot,” he says, without looking up. 

“Hi Groot. I’m Peter. Do you want-”

“I am Groot,” the tree says a little louder in a tone that Peter knows well: shut up I’m trying to concentrate. 

In the spot next to Groot’s name Peter writes I am Groot. Tony can figure that out. 

Falcon and the Winter Soldier are arm wrestling and they don’t look happy to see Peter. They both place insanely complicated orders: one eighth black olives (“No wait,” White Wolf says, “make them green”), pineapple, canadian bacon, sausage, buffalo if they have it, and then Falcon orders a dessert pizza. 

“What’s that?” Peter asks. 

Falcon narrows his eyes. “You don’t know what a dessert pizza is? You haven’t lived.” 

He writes that down too, with two question marks after it. Maybe it’s an Avengers thing. Maybe there are team perks that he doesn’t know about. 

He accidentally walks in on Scarlet Witch and Vision making out in a side hallway so he backs away slowly and doesn’t write anything down for them. He’s going to have to watch a lot of b-99 to get that image out of his head. Not that he’s against it or doesn’t ship it or whatever but...he was not prepared. 

Hawkeye is talking with the royals. He barely even notices Peter when he says “Canadian bacon.” 

The King is a little bit nicer. “I would like pepperoni and antelope meat, if possible. And order several more for the Dora Milaje if you could. They would like some but are too polite to say so.” 

He scribbles that down. “Thank you for letting us stay at your palace, your highness. It’s...nice.” Which is the understatement of the century, but words aren’t his strong suit. 

Shuri doesn’t look up from her tablet. “I’d like what my brother has.” She smiles at him. “I’m almost finished with the new updates to your suit.”

“Oh...um, you didn’t have to-”

“All of your tech is horribly outdated. Maybe in your country it helps you, but it won’t here. I took in the effect that zero gravity might have on it and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” She grins at him and he can’t help grinning back even though he still isn’t quite sure how she accessed his suit when it’s hanging up in the closet in the guest room. He’s lucky; some people had to share. 

He comes back to Tony with the finished list, exhausted. Tony finishes the phone call; from what Peter can hear of the other end, the pizza worker sounds vaguely terrified. 

Tony raises his eyebrows as he scans the list. “What’s a dessert pizza?”

Peter shrugs. “I guess we’ll find out.” 

With the Avengers, there’s never a dull moment. 

So I played with the timeline a little bit so I could get all of them in Wakanda-hope it’s enjoyable anyway lol.