#banana strike back

[thmgau]

CHAPTER 6 - BANANA STRIKE BACK [wattpad link]

---

Coming to consciousness, Cherry found herself in a near-empty room, tied up in a chair. The last thing they remembered were last night’s events, when the bananas got them. She had thrown her sword to save Leslie, but got caught by the bananas herself. They knew Leslie was a kind soul. Cherry knew they’d be back to save her.

But right now, Cherry was gonna have to deal with being tied up in a really uncomfortable chair.

“Maybe I can try to untie myself..” they thought. As they fiddled with the rope tying their wrists together, the door handle jingled a bit. Cherry stopped what she was doing instantly as Pim entered the room.

“Well, well, well.. look at what we have here!” Pim said, spinning the Bananainator in his hands. “Alright, asshole. Cut to the chase. Just do the thing.” “Oh, you mean the thing where I turn you into a banana? I wasn’t planning on doing that to you... yet.”

Cherry raised an eyebrow. “Yet?”

“You see,” Pim hummed. “You’re here as bait.” “Bait?” “I know you have friends. Remember when you all came to eat here just 2 days ago? You all were wearing those little necklaces.” “What do the necklaces have to do with anything anyway?” “Friends often wear matching necklaces to symbolize their friendship. At least, that’s how it is where I’m from.” “Does everyone where you’re from wear stupid banana costumes too or are you the outlier there?”

Pim gasped, as if he were offended. “A COSTUME? You think this is a COSTUME?”

“What else would it be?” “Uh.. my SKIN?” “You’re.. a banana?” “Well, half-banana, if we’re going off technicalities. My mom’s a human. My dad’s a banana.” “I don’t even want to think about the logistics of that- hold on a minute. Don’t you run a banana restaurant?” “Yes? Cannibalism’s legal where I’m from, it’s fine.” “Alright, not gonna question the morality of that. Why am I here as ‘bait’ anyhow?” “Oh, c’mon, I just went over that. You’re here as bait so I can turn you & your friends into bananas! Simple as that.” “Why bananas, though? Like, couldn’t you just kill us?” “Why would I kill a potential employee? That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.” “..Potential employee?” “I’m sure you’ve noticed the lack of employees here, yeah? I turn people into bananas so they work here at the restaurant & then I can take over capitalism!”

Cherry was dumbfounded. “...what?”

“You heard me. I’m going to take over capitalism!” “..first of all, you can’t take over capitalism. Second of all, why take over capitalism? Capitalism sucks bad, dude.” “Why do you want to know?” “Because what the fuck else am I supposed to do?” “Oh, I don’t know.. stay silent, maybe?” “Whatever. Better than talking to you, anyway.”

“Rude.” Pim crossed his arms. “Not like you’ll be needing to speak for much longer. I’m about to let the bananas out into the city. Soon enough your little friends will be crawling their way back to this place. Better get comfortable!”

With that, Pim left the room & shut the door, leaving Cherry alone to her own devices.

-

Leslie had stayed awake all night long.

Energy drinks & coffee mugs were scattered all across their apartment. One of those mini-whiteboards was on the coffee table, with incomprehensible writing & sketches on it. Various other papers laid around as well, with even more incomprehensible writings. Its laptop was sitting on the couch, with multiple tabs open all to the varying degree of “how to fight bananas”.

Leslie had to get Cherry back. It was racking its brain with any ideas - anything at all - to get its friend back. They were afraid Juniper, Nora, & Kalani wouldn’t believe them. Cherry getting kidnapped by bananas? It was absurd!

As they scribbled something down on another piece of paper, an alarm went off on their phone. They pulled out their phone to check it.

Class was in 15 minutes.

“SHIT!” it yelled, grabbing its laptop & the charger in a frenzy. They ran out of their apartment faster than they ever had.

-

“So, what’s the plan?” “Uh.. I dunno.”

Juniper & Nora were relaxing in Kalani’s apartment. Juniper was sprawled across the couch, while Nora sat in the recliner. Kalani was hovering (not literally) over the couch, with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“I guess we could watch TV.” Nora shrugged. “Not like we have classes today anyway.” “Sounds like a plan to me.” Juniper grabbed the TV remote & flipped the TV on, flipping through the channels.

“Have any of you heard from Cherry or Leslie lately?” “No. Last I saw them was yesterday at the mall.” “Same here. Usually Les sends us a good morning text, but.. nothing.” “That’s strange.

Juniper stopped flipping the channels. Ze had landed on the news station.

“The news? Really?” “Leslie was gonna break into that banana restaurant, weren’t they? Maybe they’re on the news.” “Alright.”

The news reporter appeared on screen, along with some footage of bananas with arms & legs walking around.

“Good morning, Cincinnati! Today we have some concerning news for you. Starting around 3:47 AM last night, people have reported seeing human-sized bananas walking around the city. Most of them seem to not be doing much harm, but others have reported that the bananas have broken into homes & buildings. We recommend you don’t go out today, & lock your doors, but if you must then please stay safe.”

Kalani, Nora, & Juniper looked at each other.

“What?” “I’m as confused as you are.”

Kalani thought about it for a second.

“The book!” he exclaimed.

Juniper & Nora turned to look at him.

“The book?” “The book said we had to ‘maintain the balance between good & evil’! Maybe this is our chance to do that!” “Oh, you’re right!” “Let me go get the book! Hold on!”

Kalani rushed to the other room.

“You really think someone would write a prophecy about fighting bananas?” “Maybe the bananas are just a stepping stone to something bigger. Something more dangerous.” “Like what?” “I dunno. I’ve never been a prophesied hero before.”

Kalani ran back into the room, book in hand. She opened it up & flipped through a couple of the pages.

“What are you looking for?” “How to get back into those sick outfits.” “You forgot already?” “Hey, not everyone has a perfect memory like you.” “My memory isn’t perfect!” “Didn’t you memorize 150 digits of Pi once?” “I did. Not anymore.” “Fair. How do we get back into the outfits?” “Just pull on the necklace.”

At once, all three of them pulled on their necklaces. They were in their magical girl outfits once again.

“Alright! What’s the plan now?” “I guess we go & find the source of the bananas.” “But where is the source of the bananas?” “I don’t know! That’s why we have to find it!” “Let’s go do that then!”

-

“AAGH! SOMEONE HELP!”

As Leslie rushed to class, they heard a scream ring out from their classroom.

They swung the doors open. Natalie was the only human there, cowering in the corner. A couple of bananas were surrounding her. Leslie had no idea how the bananas ended up getting to college campus, but nonetheless, it knew what to do.

Pulling on their necklace, they got back into their magical girl outfit, with their scythes in hand. They ran up & sliced the bananas in half. Natalie looked at Leslie with relief in her face.

“Oh, thank you- Leslie?” “Um.. hey.” “Out of everyone who could have saved me, I was not expecting it to be you.” “Well, y’know.. hold on, what are you wearing?”

Now that Natalie wasn’t surrounded by bananas, Leslie could see her outfit clearly. It was similar to the magical girl outfits, but everything that was white about the outfit was now black, & Natalie’s tie, skirt, gloves, & shoes were purple. She was also holding a small hammer in her hand, very obviously painted over with purple paint.

“Oh, uh..” Natalie stammered. “This was.. supposed to be a surprise. I was gonna rob a Walmart today after class, & you & your magical girl friends would show up, & I was gonna have a cool villain monologue &-” “Is that a.. squeaky hammer as a weapon?” “UM. NOO. IT’S A NORMAL HAMMER.”

Leslie took the hammer out of Natalie’s hands & hit it against the wall. It made a squeaky sound.

“Yup. Squeaky hammer.” Leslie yawned, handing the hammer back to Natalie. “Well- it’s all I had! Shut up!” “Ok, whatever you say.” “Anyways, what’s up with those banana guys?”

Leslie rubbed its eyes. “Um.. so Cherry & I broke into that new banana restaurant last night &-” “What new banana restaurant?” “Y’know.. Banana Man’s Banana Land?” “Haven’t heard of it.” “Oh well. We broke in there last night & found out that the owner was, like, turning people into bananas, & then we had to fight off the bananas & then Cherry got taken by the bananas &-”

Leslie yawned in the middle of their sentence.

“& I’ve, um.. been up all night trying to come up with a plan to get her back.” “You pulled an all-nighter? Jeez, no wonder you’re tired.”

Natalie spun the squeaky hammer around in her hands. “How about we make a truce? For now.” “A.. truce?” “I can’t fight you in the state you’re currently in. Not to mention, the bananas.. So we’re forming a truce!” “Um... ok.” “Alright! Let’s go, trucie!”

-

“Did I ever tell you guys my sibling’s coming back to Cincinnati?” “They are?”

Juniper & Kalani were in the back of Nora’s car, driving around. They were still looking for the source of the bananas walking around the city. They thought it would be nice to have some conversation so it’s not boring.

“Yea, they said somethin’ about dropping out of college.” Nora explained. “I get it.” Juniper nodded. “College can be stressful sometimes.” “When are they comin’ back?” Kalani asked. “Oh, sometime tomorrow. I’ll have to go pick them up from the airport.” “Ah. Good luck.” “Thanks-”

Nora was interrupted by her stomach growling. “Oh, maybe we should get some breakfast, huh?” “How about we go back to that banana restaurant? The food there was pretty g-” “THE BANANA RESTAURANT!” Kalani perked up. “That might be where the bananas are coming from!” “Oh, you’re right!! How did we not think of it before?!” “To the banana restaurant we go!”

-

It had probably been a few hours. Cherry couldn’t tell how long she had been here, & everything hurt a lot. Their limbs were starting to go numb due to the lack of blood flow.

“Oh, that’s it!” she grumbled to herself. “I’m getting myself outta here!”

They attempted to untie the rope binding their wrists together. It was kind of difficult, considering they couldn’t see what they were doing. After a couple of minutes, Cherry had successfully freed her wrists!

“Finally!” she sighed, shaking her hands to get the blood flowing again. “Alright, now I gotta get the legs free.. let’s do this.”

Once their hands felt normal again, they went to work on untying the ropes around their ankles. It was easier this time, now that Cherry could actually see what she was doing. She got the knot untied in no time.

Finally, after who knows how long, Cherry was able to stand up! Sitting in a chair all tied up in a skirt was incredibly uncomfortable. They pulled on their tie & poofed back into the hoodie they were wearing before.

“Alrighty..” she stretched. “Let’s see if there’s any way outta this stupid room.”

Now that they weren’t tied up in a chair, Cherry could get a good look around the room. There was a door, but Cherry assumed there was a good chance it was locked, & she did not want to attempt to lockpick anything again.

There was a desk to the side, covered in old newspapers & diagrams. Cherry walked up to it, hoping it could give them some clues on how to escape. She grabbed one of the newspapers. It was from sometime in 2019, based in a place that Cherry had never heard of.

“BANANA ECONOMY IN SHAMBLES!” the front page of the newspaper read.

“Banana economy?” Cherry wondered. This intrigued her, so she kept reading.

The newspaper talked about the economic crash of the banana society. Cherry didn’t even know there was a banana society.

There was another newspaper right under it, published about a week after the first newspaper. The headline on this one read, “HUMAN ECONOMY DOING FINE.”

“Why are bananas getting news on how humans are doing?”

Cherry thought back to what Pim had said about himself early.

“My mom’s a human. My dad’s a banana.”he had said. That means Pim could easily pass as a human, which he had! Cherry & the others had simply just thought he was wearing a banana costume.

“He must have moved here because our economy was better..” Cherry mumbled. “Still not sure what he means by ‘taking over capitalism,’ though.”

At that moment, they heard the door opening. Cherry quickly threw the newspaper back on the desk as Pim entered the room, Bananainator in hand.

“HEY!” Pim yelled, aiming the Bananainator at Cherry. “How’d you escape?!” “You kind of suck ass at tying knots, dude.” Cherry replied, tugging on her necklace & transforming back into Hero Mode.

“Ohh, you’re gonna pay for this!” “I’d like to see you try!”

-

Despite all the bananas walking around the city, it was actually quite a nice day. There was a mild breeze, but it was sunny, & everyone knows sunny weather is the perfect time for motorcycle rides.

Leslie sat on the back of Natalie’s motorcycle, fighting off any bananas that got close (which was few, due to the speed of the motorcycle). The velocity of the motorcycle was enough to keep Leslie from passing out.

Earlier in the classroom, after the truce was made, Natalie mentioned that she had a motorcycle they could use to get to the banana restaurant & save Cherry. As Leslie’s only other form of transport at the moment was walking, they agreed to hitch a ride on the motorcycle.

“So.. you ride this motorcycle to class?” “Of course! Way faster than walking.” “Alright.”

It was silent for a second.

“It’s a nice motorcycle.” Leslie said. “Thanks!” Natalie grinned. “Got it for my 18th.” “Sweet.”

Natalie pulled up into a parking spot at Banana Man’s Banana Land & stopped the motorcycle. “We’re here.” she nodded, hopping off of the motorcycle seat.

As Leslie hopped off of the motorcycle as well, another car pulled up into the parking lot as well. Leslie recognized it as Nora’s car instantly, due to the parking ticket on the windshield wiper that Nora had flipped over on its back & wrote “NORA’S CAR” on.

Nora, Juniper, & Kalani exited the car & spotted Leslie.

“Les!!” the three of them exclaimed, running over to it. “Oh, hey!” Leslie waved. “Are you ok?” Juniper asked. “Yea, I’m.. I’m fine.” Leslie said, yawning.

“Your friend here stayed up all night long.” Natalie leaned against her motorcycle. “They never would have gotten here if it weren’t for me.”

“Jesus, Les. You must be exhausted.” “Wait a minute,” Nora glanced at Natalie. “Aren’t you the girl who stole our book yesterday & demanded to join us?” “Yea. That was me.” Natalie shrugged. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Nora, Juniper, & Kalani summoned their weapons.

“Oh.”

“Hey, wait,” Leslie said. “We have a truce.” “A truce?” “Yea, me & Leslie here formed a truce. Once we’re all done with this banana business, your group & I are back to being rivals.” “We’re rivals?” “Listen, I was gonna do this whole thing where I robbed a Walmart & had a big villain speech & it was gonna be cool!” “I see. Does this have anything to do with the almost-matching outfit?” “Yes. I made it myself, in fact!” “Oh, you did? That’s cool.” “Thanks. Self-taught.”

“Alright, enough small-talk.” Leslie stretched. “Cherry’s in that restaurant & we need to save her.” “Cherry’s in there?” “It’s a long story, but she’s in trouble.” “Well, we have no time to waste, then! Let’s go!”

-

Either it was the adrenaline or the fact that she would be turned into a banana if she fucked up here, but Cherry was handling her sword better. Not completely better, but it was fine for the time being.

Pim was attempting to shoot Cherry with the Bananainator, but they were blocking every shot with their sword.

“Why won’t you just give UP already?!” Pim yelled, firing another shot from the Bananainator “I don’t give up very easily.” Cherry responded, blocking the shot with her sword. “Plus, I’m a big fan of not being a banana.”

Pim fired a few more shots, but Cherry blocked all three of them, albeit barely. The two of them had been at this for a while, & Cherry was noticeably getting more & more worn out.

“You’re getting tired!” Pim grinned. “Might wanna take a rest for a second!” “& let my guard down? No thanks.” “You know, overworking yourself is very- OW!”

A hammer flew into the room, hitting Pim directly in the back of the head. It made a squeaky noise as it hit the ground.

“Who did that?!” he yelled, turning around. “That’s what you get, banana boy!”

There stood Natalie, with a grin on her face. Behind her stood Nora, Juniper, Kalani, & Leslie.

“You’re gonna PAY FOR THAT!” Pim turned his aim toward Natalie. “Try me, bitch!”

Pim fired a shot. Natalie ducked, along with everyone else, & hit the window in the main room, shattering it.

“OH, YOU-”

Natalie ran off before Pim could finish his sentence.

“HEY, WAIT! GET BACK HERE!”

Pim shoved past everyone else & ran up the stairs to chase after Natalie. The other 4 went down & over to Cherry.

“Cherry!!” Leslie smiled, embracing her. “Les! You came back!” “Of course I did! I spent all night trying to come up with a plan to save you!” “All night? Jesus, Les, we are getting you a nap after this is done.” “Speaking of.. this situation, we’ve got some fighting to do!” “Yeah! Let’s kick some banana ass!”

The group started heading up the stairs.

“So what’s the banana guy’s deal anyway?” “Oh, Pim? Turns out he’s using this restaurant as a front to take over capitalism. Also, that’s not a banana costume.” “He wants to take over capitalism? That’s not possible!” “That’s what I was saying!” “Are we just skimming over the part where you said he wasn’t wearing a banana costume?” “Oh, yea, his mom’s a human & his dad’s a banana.” “That sounds disgusting. & also genetically not possible.” “Don’t we share 50% of DNA with bananas?” “Yea, I guess so.”

They arrived back upstairs to the main area of the restaurant. Pim was trying to shoot Natalie with his Bananainator, but she was dodging every shot.

“WHY WON’T YOU STOP DODGING?!” “Why won’t you stop having bad aim?” “I- SHUT UP!”

The group looked toward each other.

“So what’s the plan?” Kalani asked. “He seems to rely on that Bananainator he has too much.” Cherry said. “If we can disarm him & break it, he won’t be able to fight back.” “What about the other, uh.. banana guys around?” “I dunno. I guess we just fend them off?” “Sounds good to me!”

Kalani aimed her wand at Pim, who was busy trying to hit Natalie with the Bananainator.

“Just as a warning, this is the first time I’ve ever used this thing.” “Some training before-hand would have been nice, wouldn’t it?” “Yeah.”

Kalani fired a magic blast at Pim. It hit him smack-right in the face.

“OW!” he hissed, turning his attention toward Kalani. He fired the Bananainator at Kalani, but Juniper slid in & blocked the beam with eir spear, sending it flying into the sky.

“So that’s how you wanna be, huh?” Pim scoffed. He snapped his fingers a couple times. “BACKUP! BAAAAACKUP!!!”

All at once, a few dozen bananas approached Pim. He pointed at the group. “Get them!” he commanded.

The bananas turned toward the group.

“Ah, shit, here we go again.” “Again?!” “Don’t worry about it.”

The group readied their weapons as the bananas raced toward them.

Cherry, despite being tired from blocking Pim’s attacks earlier, still had some fight left in them, & was slicing some bananas in half. Nora used her whip to push back some of the bananas, & even cut some of them. Leslie used its scythes to dice the banana in half. Juniper was stabbing bananas with pheir spear, & Kalani used his wand to send magic blasts at the bananas.

As Leslie sliced a banana in half, they noticed that Natalie was being surrounded by bananas. Pim had his Bananainator aimed at Natalie, & there was no way she could avoid it.

They had to act fast.

Pim had his finger on the trigger. Leslie ran over to where he was standing, scythes in hand. Its plan was to use one of its scythes to flick the Bananainator out of his hands. However, there was a rock on the ground & Leslie had tripped, their scythe cutting deep into Pim’s glove.

“OUCH!” he shrieked, dropping the Bananainator on the ground.

Leslie swiftly grabbed the Bananainator from the ground & rolled over, standing up. Pim noticed this very quickly.

“HEY!” he yelled. “Give that BACK!”

Leslie smiled as it threw the Bananainator into the ground as hard as it could, shattering the device into various pieces.

“NO!!” Pim screamed, running over to the now-broken Bananainator.

All of a sudden, all of the faceless bananas (the ones that weren’t dead, anyway) all transformed back into humans. They looked around, confused & unaware.

“Where am I?” “Why the fuck am I in a parking lot?” “How’d I get here??”

The group just kind of glanced at each other, not wanting to explain that everyone had just been turned into bananas.

“Uh.. don’t worry about it!” Juniper gave a thumbs up to everyone. “Just go home! Everything’s normal now.”

Everyone just shrugged & walked away.

Pim was grasping at the remains of his Bananainator. “My plan.. it’s RUINED!!” he sobbed. “Damn. That sounds like a skill issue.”

Pim glared at the group (+ Natalie), tears in his eyes.

“Just you wait until my BOYFRIEND hears about this! I’ll have my revenge on you, just you wait & see!!” Pim yelled, running away.

The group looked at each other.

“Well.. we did it.” “We did! Isn’t that neat?” “Yeah!”

“So, Natalie..” Leslie looked at her. “Does this mean our truce is over?” “Oh! Uh.. yeah! No more truce! From now on, I’ll be your worst enemy! Mwahahaha!!” “Alright, you have fun with that.” “See ya later, heroes!” Natalie chuckled, hopping on her motorcycle & riding off.

Cherry sighed, leaning against the wall of the building. “So... I guess we’re officially heroes then, huh?” “I.. guess so, yeah. We just kind of saved the world.” “Well, we didn’t save the world. We saved capitalism, which is frankly worse, but who cares?” “Let’s just ignore the capitalism part & say we saved the city, huh?” “Yeah. Let’s go with that. C’mon, let’s head home.” “Alright! Nap time!”

So, they all got back into Nora’s car & drove back to their dorms, with the thought of their heroic actions in the back of their minds. They had saved the day! But.. what would come next, they wondered?

They were sure it would be fine, whatever it was.

[athousandsuns2010]

3:44 am bowl of rice krispies

[katsukistofu]

my caffeine mix-up!

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. you accidentally pick up the number two hero’s coffee so picks you up instead. | pt. ii

You take a sip of your morning coffee and almost spit it out on your dashboard.

This could not be your order. It was so… unusually sugary. Too sugary. Like someone liquified a whole candy store and shoved it into a venti cup.

Still reeling a little from the overly sweet aftertaste that lingers on your tongue, your eyes trail down to read:

Vt Crml Crnch Frap

5 Banana

Ex Caramel Drizzle

Extra Whip

Extra Ice

Ex Cinnamon

7 pumps Add Dk Crml Sauce

Ex Caramel Crunch

1 pump Honey Blend

Heavy Cream

Double Blended

What kind of pretentious asshole orders this garbage? Were their taste buds dead?

You mentally sent your condolences to the poor person that had to make this disgusting monstrosity of a drink. Please, you would’ve taken one look at the order and thrown it in the trash.

Your eyes searched the paper cup for who your local coffee shop transgressor was– catching sight of a scribble in blue marker reading “H-A.” You moved your hand a bit to reveal a “W-K-S.” A sense of dread creeps in as you numbly stare at the squiggly heart next to it.

It was like someone slipped an ice cube down the back of your shirt.

You had mistakenly picked up the wildly famous winged pro hero’s order and to make things even worse, put your mouth on where his was supposed to be.

Okay that sounded kind of dirty. But it’s not like you could drive back and return it now, what with your lip gloss already staining the lid.

Hey, um, I think I accidentally took a sip of the Hawks’s coffee? Oopsies? You guess you could pay for his order to be remade, but who’s to say he’ll even come back for it, much less accept it from some random stranger?

You were already running late to your desk job as is, and your coworkers were probably scratching their heads, wondering where you were since you always arrived at least half an hour before them. Should you just throw it away and pretend it never happened?

Oh god, would some person dig through the trash the moment you turned your back and extract your DNA from your lip gloss on the lid, thinking you were a deranged fan who stole his drink on purpose?

Or worse—that you were his secret girlfriend picking up his drink who had just wanted a little taste first before delivering it to him?

Your brain starts to wring itself dry of all the possibilities that could happen, shuddering despite each one being as unlikely as the next. An impressive mental workout for an un-caffeinated person at barely eight in the morning.

You wish you never even went to get your usual little treat today. That barista definitely looked right at you when you went to pick up your order, you swear they did.

But now that you’re thinking about it, maybe they were looking at the person standing behind you that you didn’t see as you rushed out of the shop? How do you even miss a man with wings that big?

Something gently knocks on the driver side window and you almost jump out of your seat.

As you roll it down with caution, your brain momentarily stops functioning as you’re met with a pair of striking golden eyes. Another inch of tinted glass down, a strong Grecian nose.

Forget work, the hell. You didn’t even know noses could be that pretty, and as your last bit of window disappears into the car so does your self-respect as you realize he’s abandoned his usual tan-colored jacket, standing before you in his black compression shirt with gold embossment.

Forget everything, actually.

You don't realize you’re holding your breath until he laughs at you, and you sheepishly close your slightly parted lips.

“Didn’t know coffee thieves came this cute.” Drinking in your appearance his keen eyes stray from yours, slowly trailing down to your trembling lips, a stark contrast to the growing smirk on his. “Or this nervous.”

His fingers drum absentmindedly on the side of your car door, clear amusement written across his handsome face as he waits for you to say something. You collect yourself and snap out of your thoughts, taking a deep breath.

“I’msososorryIdrankyourcoffee!” You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment as your words come out in a jumble. “I totally grabbed the wrong order and I can’t believe I didn’t see you waiting behind me, I swear I’m not a creep–”

“Hey, hey,” Hawks gently interrupts you, reassurance laced in his voice. “It’s all good, no harm done.” He taps the paper cup that somehow miraculously hasn’t slipped out of your fingers yet.

“Sooo was it good?”

You choke on air, not expecting that. “Your drink?”

“Yeah, my drink.” He shoots you a cheeky grin. That bastard. “Good or nah?” You pause, contemplating if you should lie–no. No, today you chose honesty.

“...Genuinely, I have no idea how you drink this shit.”

Hawks laughs at your bold answer. “Thanks for being my little taste tester anyways. Too sweet, huh?” The tip of his finger traces around the remnants of your lip gloss on the lid, the cup still in your now slightly shaky hand as you nod.

His touch seared against your skin, as his pretty fingers closed around yours to raise the drink up to his lips to take a slow sip, eyes never leaving your own.

With a gaze that was infuriatingly sultry as it was sweet, like a bird of prey beckoning a field mouse to be their next meal, he murmurs, “Just how I like it.”

You’re not really sure he was talking about the coffee anymore.

He hums, and your thighs involuntarily clench a bit as his soft-looking mouth closes around the opening of the lid to take another sip.

“I’d say you’re a villain that deserves their own special category.” He grins, eyes sparkling conspiratorially. “One that involves letting me take her out to dinner.”

If you weren’t sitting down you know your legs would have given out. “Like… like on a date?” You gape at him incredulously. Because there was no way. Hawks. Just asked you out.

“Now sweetheart, what else would it be?” Hawks smirks at your dazed expression, like you’re sure you misheard him. So cute. “I mean, unless you don’t want to–”

“No!” He blinks, and your hand flies to cover your mouth at your sudden outburst.

“I-I mean, I want to…” You shyly say at a much quieter volume, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. He leans closer to you with a grin, languidly resting his folded arms over the open frame of your car door.

“It’s a date then. I know this really good sushi and ramen place down the block near my agency, my treat of course.”

“If I’m a villain is this your idea of rehabilitation?” You joke dryly. “Because it’s working.”

He tips your chin up. “Oh don’t worry pretty, I’m just getting started with turning you into a good girl.” A hot flush creeps up your neck to your cheeks, and you almost melt into a puddle right then and there at your steering wheel.

“I’d love to stay but I’m actually so late for work right now.” You utter weakly, chin still resting against his finger. Hawks tilts his head at that, unfolding his vibrant crimson wings as he wordlessly opens the front door of your car.

With little effort and an impressive flex of his biceps, plus a sharp intake of breath from you, one of his arms slips under your thighs and another firmly hugs you just under your shoulder blades as he lifts you up to his firm chest.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he feels your flustered arms hastily reach up to wrap around his neck. Honeyed eyes like molten gold meet yours as he gives a gentle squeeze to your thigh through your pencil skirt, and once again you find yourself needing a reminder to breathe.

“So, where to?”

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“IS THAT FUCKING HAWKS OUTSIDE OUR COMPANY’S BUILDING?!”

say you can’t sleep, baby i know, that’s that me expresso~ ♪

[puzzled-pegasus]

Here's some silly little metaphors that I think the dragon tribes would use

SkyWings

“Don’t count your clutch before they hatch.” (Don't plan too much too soon)

“Gold is better than silver, but silver is better than nothing.” (If you can't do it perfectly, still try your best. Most dragons forget the second part.)

“‘Sorry’ can't suck the fire back in.” (The damage is done and now you're dead to me.)

“You been eating too much burnt meat or something?” (Are you nuts?)

“Stop all this smoke and use your fire.” (Stop rambling and get to the point already; or stop complaining and do something)

“Doesn't know his tail from his wings.” (Stupid or clumsy)

“You fly like a depressed pigeon.” (Slow flier)

“There's no fire in a rainstorm.” (Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work.)

“Nighttime is for the NightWings.” (What are you doing up? Go to sleep.)

SandWings

“She’s all rattle, and no strike.” (Like all bark no bite)

“A diamond in a pile of quartz.” (Like a needle in a haystack)

“You’re watering the cactus and ignoring the sapling.” (You’re focusing on the wrong thing; barking up the wrong tree)

“Everyone thinks the camel looks silly until the dry season comes.” (Don't listen to them, they don't know how unique and strong you are)

MudWings

“Crocodile tears.” (Fake crying in order to gain sympathy)

“You can only catch a trout if your mouth is open.” (Be open to new experiences)

“If the tree gives away too much, it ends up as a stump.” (Don't let people take advantage of your generosity)

SeaWings

“Happy as a clam in high water.” (Very happy)

“The flying fish feels like a fool when it sees an osprey.” (Don't compare yourself to others, run your own race.)

“Plenty of fish in the sea.” (Plenty more opportunities to come.)

“You’ve got ink in your eyes.” (You're blind to something important)

“Lobsters only die when they don't leave their shell.” (Keep yourself busy with new experiences and you'll life a long life)

NightWings

“Sleep is for the dead.” (Why waste your time sleeping when you could be productive)

“SeaWings know their fish and SandWings know their cactuses, but we NightWings know everything else.”(NightWing supremacy propaganda)

“Being nice to a deer never got one in my mouth.” (Other dragons don't matter, only your goals.)

“A prophecy always comes true.” (I told you so but more cryptic)

"You're counting the stars." (You're doing something tedious towards an unachievable goal)

RainWings

“Gray’s her favorite color.” (She's a huge bummer)

“A lemon is yellow on the outside, doesn't mean they're not sour.” (Referring to someone who is two faced or fake)

“I love honey, but I’d rather not get stung by the bees.” (I could do this, but it requires effort so I don't wanna)

“Nobody likes a rotten banana.” (Nobody likes a bummer/downer)

“Don't tie your tail in a knot” (don't get all upset)

“I have all my berries in a basket” (I have everything sorted out)

“You couldn't sneak up on a pineapple” (insult to one's camouflage skills, popular among children)

IceWings

“The seal who asks why the orca is chasing him is the first to get eaten.” (A favorite of parents telling their kids to shut up)

“Not the sharpest icicle on the roof” (kinda stupid or slow)

“Clear as polished ice” (i understand or see it very well)

“You're looking a little pink in the face” (you look sickly. IceWings can turn pink from eating too much krill; a symptom of malnutrition. This line can be applied to any illness.)

“Blue blood kills, red blood spills.” (Patriotic propaganda implying that IceWings win every fight

“The SkyWings toss their blue eyed hatchlings because they're worried they'll be as strong as an IceWing.” (More propaganda)

HiveWings

“Pretty is for the SilkWings.” (Vanity is stupid and impractical)

“If it buzzes like a bug and bites like a bug, it's a bug.” (Don't ignore the obvious)

“Clearsight works in mysterious ways.” (I don't know the answer to your question, now go away)

SilkWings

“It's not always good to know how the honey gets made.” (Don't stick your snout where it doesn't belong)

“She's got a couple of threads loose.” (Calling someone a little crazy, threads refers to weaving)

“The bee minds its flowers and the spider minds her silk, it's when they mix that bad things happen.” (Mind ya business)

LeafWings

“Flytraps only trap because the soil doesn't feed them.” (Dragons don't get angry out of nowhere)

“Looking like a leaf only hides you in the forest.” (Time and place)

“If a branch doesn't bend, it breaks.” (Be flexible)

“Even the corpse flower attracts the flies.” (Even someone who seems ugly to one dragon they can seem irresistible to another)

[dreadsuitsamus]

Bleach Men Taking Your Baby to the Grocery Store Headcanons

author's note: yes the premise is random but it's also very cute and perfectly in line with my recent onslaught of baby fever. also, the banners in this post were created by the always amazing @actuallysaiyan!! thank you for the gorgeous banners, babe! 🩷🩷🩷

pairings: kensei muguruma x reader, byakuya kuchiki x reader, grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader, renji abarai x reader, ichigo kurosaki x reader

warnings: children ages 5 and younger and grimmjow's parenting lmao this is mostly fluff and some mischief mixed in from the babies

Kensei is definitely the tough parent of the two of you, and he relishes in that fact

But goddammit do those baby eyes make him waver

As he carries little Mila into the store, he tells her they're only there for necessities

No candy, no sugary cereals, only what you've tasked him to buy for dinner

Despite being only three and a half, however, Mila has a pretty good idea of how to get her way with Kensei

It's gotten slightly less effective since the pacifiers have been removed from her arsenal, but anything that cracks her dad's tough exterior is remarkable as is

It starts off innocently enough, though soon the way she sings her little song and bops her head around becomes rife with intent

"Daddy, can has hug?" She blinks up at him, holding her arms up

Either he's willfully choosing to fall into the trap, or Kensei is merely blind in the face of his precious girl

"Of course, baby." Kensei picks her up from the cart and kisses her wonderfully chubby cheek, leading the cart behind him as he continues through the store with Mila hooked on his hip

Mila curls up, humming as her eyes scan the shelves for something she wants

"Hold Momma's list for Daddy, okay?"

Mila's little fingers hold the list carefully, and soon Kensei is at a crossroad

"Broth. What kind of broth?" He mutters, fishing his cell phone from his pocket to call you

As usual, it turns into a bit of a squabbling match. He thinks remembering every little detail is silly, and you think you've made this dish so many times he should know you need chicken broth

Kensei is sufficiently annoyed by the time the phone call ends, and Mila strikes then

"Daddy, can has kiss?"

"Yes, baby." She gets a kiss on either cheek, and the kiss she gives his cheek right back is just about the final nail in the coffin

With Kensei holding her, she's able to reach the shelf and snag a little box of animal crackers

"Daddy, can has this?"

Played by the fucking toddler again!! That's three times this week!

"... Don't tell your brothers." Kensei sighs, hanging his head in shame

It's not all bad though; he does get another sweet kiss from his princess

Byakuya is a strict but ultimately fair father

Little Jasmine has grown up under his watchful eye, though through that she's certainly learned just how many of his limits she can press and how to get around them

Going to the grocery store is rare, and even more so if you're not present for the journey

But it's vacation time, and you're busy setting up the cabin for your family's stay, so Byakuya has been tasked with gathering enough groceries to make it through dinner and the morning's breakfast

Byakuya holds Jasmine’s hand and they walk inside together, Byakuya using a tissue to pick up one of the small hand baskets. There's no telling the last time this thing has been sanitized!

“What would you like for dinner tonight?” Byakuya asks the five year old, and Jasmine hums thoughtfully

How can she end the first day of this vacation with a delicious banana split?

Appealing to her father's tastes will increase the likelihood of success, and her father is quite fond of spicy foods…

“Can we have curry?”

The light in his eyes isn't missed by the girl, and she can practically taste an ice cream sundae with a waffle bowl already

“You're becoming more accustomed to spices, I see.” Byakuya hums and begins to survey the store's offerings, whereas Jasmine is mentally preparing her list for dessert

“Daddy?” Jasmine dials up the sweetness in her tone while Byakuya examines the various cuts of chicken on display

“Yes?” He hums

“Can we have a treat tonight?”

“What sort of treat?”

“A surprise treat. Please, Daddy?”

Byakuya pauses. He's no fan of sweets, and in general sugar is limited in the Kuchiki household

But she did say please

“Mm… I suppose.”

Byakuya doesn't meet your eyes when he and Jasmine return from the store with more ingredients for ice cream sundaes than dinner and breakfast combined

He is such a sucker, but he's happy to be played when he receives his banana split with a chocolate syrup drawing of his beloved Wakame Taishi from his darling daughter

Renji tries his best to be a strict father, but his determination wavers frequently. He wanted for many things as a child, and as a parent he doesn't wish to push that same feeling on his child as long as he's capable of providing a warm, loving home

Not to mention, that damn two year is old is just so cute it makes his heart melt at the mere sight of the toddler

“C’mon, honey, gotta get some soup for Mommy.” Renji murmurs as he carefully takes little Rin from his car seat, carrying him into the store on his hip

“Why?” is Rin’s favorite question right now, and Renji’s eye twitches a bit

“Because her tummy is upset.”

“Why?”

“... I don't know.”

“Why?”

“I don't know!”

“Why?”

Renji gently pinches his son's lips between his fingers. “Shhh… Quiet time.”

But of course, the moment he lets go, Rin is back at it again

“Why?”

“Because now Daddy has a headache.”

Rin, as gently as he can while simultaneously not managing much grace in the act, pats his father's sunglasses that sit atop his head

“All bedder?”

Renji's lip practically wobbles at the sweetness. “Yes, Daddy's all better. Thank you, sweetie.”

Rin rests his head against his father, playing with the Renji’s chain while he surveys all of the varieties of soup, Renji occasionally pulling the chain away from the baby's open mouth

Rin whines after his third attempt to eat the necklace, so Renji quickly grabs the first can of chicken noodle soup he sees and makes a dash for the checkout. No baby meltdowns in public, for the love of God

Renji gently bounces the baby, pleading softly with him to calm down. It's not working very well, however, and these damn checkout lines aren't moving at all!

Desperation wins and Renji's grabbing a lollipop before he knows it, tearing the wrapping off and popping the sucker into Rin’s teeny mouth

His plan to calm the baby works, and by the time he's actually able to check out and purchase the soup, the small pop is already gone and the tantrum is starting to blossom again

And just as Renji gets the baby strapped back into his carseat, he checks his phone to see a text you sent twenty minutes ago that practically sends his eyes popping out of his skull

Can you pick up a pregnancy test too?

He glances over at the toddler, and can practically see the boy as a big brother already

Even with a fussy baby in round two of the long lines, Renji's smile doesn't waver and he just kisses and coos at the hopefully soon-to-be big brother

Grimmjow is an interesting parent. Much like how every day with a four year old is a mystery, every day with Grimmjow is a deep dive into the unknown

So when sending the man and his mini-me to the grocery store, you're not quite sure what they're going to come home with. Hopefully it at least includes the items on the list, otherwise dinner is going to be very different from what you've planned

“Oi, keep up!” Grimm looks over his shoulder, the four year old having been distracted by a vending machine

“Want snack.”

“Too bad. Let's go.”

The toddler’s stare is a little too lead paint-y for Grimmjow's liking

“Zen.” Grimmjow looks on, unimpressed as he fishes a coin from his pocket. “Fine, brat. You win, you get a snack. I win, I get a snack.”

That gets the boy to smile, clapping his hands as he jumps in excitement

Grimmjow smirks. “Heads I win, tails you lose.”

The coin is flipped off of Grimmjow's thumb and he catches it easily, Zen waiting with bated breath for the results. Does Daddy win or does he lose??

Grimm sucks his teeth, shaking his head and tucking the quarter back into his pocket. “Heads I win. Tough luck, kid. Maybe next time.”

Zen pouts, watching his father slip a dollar into the vending machine and press the buttons for a honey bun. “Aw man…”

“C’mon.” Grimmjow opens up the snack, taking a big bite and grabbing the front of Zen’s coat, carrying him inside of the store like a handbag

The boy can't help but giggle as he looks up at his father; he loves air jail!

“You're in jail. Stop laughing, fuckin’ psycho.” Grimm shakes his son a bit, hiding his own laughter into the next bite of his honey bun. He's a hardass, but that baby's laugh is precious and melts him like ice cream on a sunny day

Heads turn at the way Grimmjow carries Zen, but Grimm is highly unbothered by such judgment. His kid is happy and healthy, and anyone that thinks otherwise can kiss his ass, for all he cares

“You got the list?” Grimm looks down at Zen, the boy fishing out the neatly-folded post-it note you lovingly tucked into his jacket pocket

Grimmjow perks a brow as he reads off the ingredients you've listed. “Say, kid—” he looks down at his son. “Whaddya say we ditch the list and get some pizza instead?”

Zen claps happily at the idea and Grimm grins menacingly, crushing up the grocery list and tossing it on the floor as he hoists his boy over his shoulder, stuffing the last bite of the honey bun in his baby's mouth whilst flipping off a scandalized woman at the checkouts

Growing up with two younger sisters was good for something after all, Ichigo thinks as he wrangles his twin girls through the parking lot with relative ease

The three year olds are stubborn and independent, having insisted they walk instead of having daddy carry them! But they still want to hold his hands, of course

why no he is not melting like a lava cake, why do you ask?

The girls gasp at the sight of a shopping cart with a racecar on the end that's the perfect size for two little ones!

“We don't even need a cart.” Ichigo deadpans, though it's in one ear and out the other as the babies pile into the little racecar, turning the steering wheels and beeping the (thankfully noiseless) horns

He feels like an idiot but as the dutiful father he is, Ichigo complies with his girls’ wishes and pushes the cart into the store

Chubby fingers point as little voices call out for candies and trinkets, and Ichigo's quick with each of his responses

“No.”

“I said no.”

“No ma'am!”

He's definitely cleaning their ears out when they get home, because clearly they can't hear him! Why else would they ask for things a million times over, hm?

“Daddy always say no.” Indigo pouts, her sister nodding in agreement. All they want is some candy!! Why is Daddy so mean?

Ichigo sighs in frustration as the aisle he needs to go down is absolutely packed, and he's stuck with this behemoth of a shopping cart. Settling it at the end of the aisle, he kneels down to make eye contact with the girls

“Stay put; I’ll be right back.”

Ichigo quickly rushes down the aisle, weaving between people to get to the pasta section

Now… If only he could remember what shape of pasta you told him to buy

Indigo and Imani look at each other, covering their mouths to hide their mischievous giggles

Those Push Pops they were eyeing are still nearby, and Daddy isn't!

As the tag team they are, Indigo and Imani spring into action, Indigo rushing to get the candy while Imani (who turns up the cuteness to a ten!) rushes down the aisle to her father

Ichigo frowns and picks up Imani, scolding her for leaving the cart

It isn't exactly effective, however, as the baby eyes and the cooing let her off the hook easily

When they get back to the cart after Ichigo remembers which pasta you've requested, he sets Imani back into the racecar

Indigo slips a blue Push Pop into her twin's hand, the two of them sharing a conspiratorial smile

They almost get away with it too, though when Ichigo's strapping them into their car seats he notices the lollipops

“Stop stealing!!!!”

These girls will surely be the reason he takes medication for his blood pressure, and he dreads the day when they become teenagers!

[merakiui]

Hello! I'd like to place an order for a flower bouquet with banana pudding and lemon squares for guests Floyd and Jade Leech (together) please!

yandere!floyd leech x (gender neutral) reader x yandere!jade leech cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping, dub-con, implied loss of virginity, mentions of implied death/murder, jade and floyd's morbid back-and-forth banter note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You wake to the dreary interior of a stranger’s van, lying on your back with your wrists tied expertly above your head. There’s thick tape plastered over your mouth and it ensures you’re kept quiet. The only noise you manage to produce is a weak, muffled sob. Your struggle is brief and futile, for the restraints won’t budge no matter how hard you pull.

You realize, rather quickly, that your head is resting in someone’s lap. That same someone is currently peering down at you, his head tilted curiously. Two-toned eyes blink at you, shimmering with a childlike glee.

“Wakey, wakey, Li’l Shrimpy,” he sings.

Staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, you think you’ve just met the Devil. He senses your intent to escape before you can even act on it. Clicking his tongue, he wraps his arms around you and drags you into his lap, holding firm.

“No need to be scared. I’m not gonna hurt ya.” With a toothy grin, all sharp points flashing at you, he pokes your cheek. “Jade might.”

You’re made aware of the second man then. He turns around to greet you from the driver’s seat with a kind, close-lipped smile. He looks friendly enough, but there’s malice thinly veiled in those polite features of his. Both of them bear a striking resemblance to one another, but if you look close enough the differences begin to show through. Eye shape, the way the part in their hair sits, that stray dark strand… You look between the two of them, silently urging for an explanation.

Jade chuckles, feigning sheepishness. “I wouldn’t do anything without reason.”

“Hear that, Shrimpy? You’re in good hands. We just wanna play with ya for a bit.”

You shake your head, whining when his fingers stray too close to your throat. He pets you fondly, soaking in your terror like a parched plant. You squirm in his lap, inching as far from him as you can get, but he’s everywhere—clinging to you, his face in yours. He presses a wet kiss to your cheek. Revulsion shudders through you.

How did this happen?

You were on your way home from work when the van pulled up and the door opened. Arms shot out to drag you, kicking and thrashing, inside and then a rag was being held over your mouth. It wasn’t a far walk—safe by your standards! You’ve done it dozens of times prior.

So why now? And why you?

Lying there, perfectly at the mercy of two strangers, you wonder if it would’ve been any different if you knew them. Maybe then it would be easier to find some sort of crooked comfort in the midst of so much fear and uncertainty.

Jade slides out of the driver’s seat to join you and his brother in the back. You catch the scenery beyond the van during the slim second the door’s open. Trees reach towards a gloomy sky on all sides, tall, hulking pines that close you in with twin monsters. It’s isolated, the ideal location for something nefarious and foul. Your stomach churns, and suddenly you feel sick.

The door shuts, and the forest vanishes. Just like that. As if it was never there at all. As if someone’s turned the page in a novel and the landscape has fallen away to account for the next scene—one far more gruesome than the last.

His arrival has you pressing back against the other’s chest. In this enclosed space, both of them don’t seem to fit. It’s too compact to account for long, lanky limbs. For a short moment, you wonder if both of them are trees.

“Let’s take the tape off, shall we?”

“Ooh, good idea, Jade. I wanna hear Shrimpy’s voice.” In one hasty motion, the tape is ripped from your mouth. Stinging pain settles beneath your skin. You yelp.

“Now, Floyd, you’ll scare the poor thing to death if you handle them so harshly.” Jade’s words sound sympathetic, but his laughter dampens them with insincerity. 

“Oops. My bad.”

You open your mouth and then shut it. What can you say? What are you supposed to say?

More importantly, what won’t send you to your grave right away?

“I’m sorry. If I did anything to upset you, I’m sorry. So please don’t…”

“What’s there to apologize for?” Floyd grips your chin and turns you towards him. “You did nothin’ wrong.”

And that’s what’s so sickening about it. Not the leering or the kidnapping. Not the fact that they’ve trapped you here in the middle of nowhere, in a van that no one will ever find. It’s the unlucky innocence of it all—the fact that you are merely a victim of chance and nothing more. No grudges or revenge needed. No real motive. Just bad fortune.

Wrong place. Wrong time.

Looking into Floyd’s eyes, you can’t find a spot of remorse. You suspect it’s much the same for Jade, who tasks himself with untying the laces in your shoes and slowly slipping each off your feet. Floyd watches this with a lazy smirk.

“You ever think about gettin’ new shoes?”

“T-They’re my work shoes…”

“Yeah? Where do you work?”

You swallow thickly, helplessly gazing about the van. It’s messy, things strewn about in disarray. A blanket bunched haphazardly. Empty pill bottles. Candy wrappers. Old receipts. A first aid kit. A shrimp plush missing its eye. Despite all of this clutter, the interior smells eerily sterile. Fresh like mint. The juxtaposition tricks your nose and eyes terribly.

“An i-ice cream parlor…”

“Ooh. No wonder you smell so sweet.” Floyd pinches your cheek. “Don’tcha think Shrimpy smells yummy, Jade?”

“Quite yummy, Floyd.” He sets your shoes aside before turning back to you. Large hands run up the length of your legs. Even though you’re fully clothed, you’ve never felt more bare. “So much so I’m tempted to take a bite…”

You squeak when he squeezes your calves. A devious grin curls on his lips, revealing the beginnings of his pointed teeth. “A-Are you going to kill me?”

Jade hums, tilting his head as he pretends to mull it over. “What do you think, Floyd?”

“You wanna wind up another number on the news, Shrimpy? You think anyone’s gonna come lookin’ for you?”

“M-My family—”

“Will be very sad if they aren’t allowed the closure an open casket provides,” Jade finishes matter-of-factly.

Your heart plummets into your stomach at that implication. Biting back bile, you shrink away from both of them. They share a glance, giggling in unison.

“Poor Shrimpy, having to be pieced back together like a puzzle…”

“Stitched up like a patchwork quilt.”

“Mm, yeah, but that’s no fun. Shrimpy’s too cute to become chum. I don’t wanna put ’em in the ground.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Jade’s fingers work to slide you from your pants. You fall still in Floyd’s arms, looking on in silent horror. He gazes at you. “Don’t look so devastated. We won’t kill you.”

The first tear slides down your cheek. Soundless. Alone. Floyd leans in to lap at the rest that follow, tracing a line up your face with his tongue.

“Aww. You went and made Shrimpy cry.”

“Have I?” Jade moves in to dab at the tears on your left side. Pressing his fingertips to his tongue, he smiles. “So it seems.”

Your shirt comes off next, slid up until it stops at your bound wrists. Floyd gets impatient halfway through and, seizing a blade from somewhere in the back, cuts you free of the pesky fabric. Much like your hope, it falls around you in tattered pieces.

It’s when you’re turned and pressed face-first into Floyd’s crotch that you begin to panic. Jade slides the knife through your underwear, peeling it away with a satisfied sigh. You writhe uncomfortably. Floyd’s fingers are in your hair next, holding you up just enough so that he can reach down to pull himself free from his sweatpants. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen a cock before. Thick and veiny, achingly hard with pre-cum beading at the tip, it terrifies you more than the slick fingers prodding at your hole from behind.

Floyd takes hold of his cock and taps it insistently against your cheek. “C’mon. Open wide.”

You watch him through your lashes, your lips pursed tightly. There really is no other way, is there? You’re trapped between the two of them, your life in their hands. Or, more fittingly, snapped up in their jaws.

“Please… D-Don’t make me…” you whisper, but it’s a pointless plea.

Floyd tuts, temper flaring. “Don’t make me shove it down your throat.”

Jade’s hand massages your cushy ass. It doesn’t do anything to comfort you. “Be gentle, Floyd. I suspect this is their first time.”

“Is it really?” His gaze flicks to your face, searching for an indication that Jade’s observations are true. An odd light sparks in empty eyes. “You’re a virgin?”

A cold sweat washes over you. Your heart won’t stop pounding. Blood is rushing in your ears, trickling through your veins and electrifying your nerves. It’s too loud. Too dizzying. You’ve never felt fear so raw and cloying before. It claws at your throat, setting it aflame. It flicks on your fight or flight. It brings with it the animalistic urge to survive. Above everything else, no matter what it reduces you to in the end, survive.

“W-Will you let me go?”

“So you can go cryin’ to the cops? Yeah, right.” He scoffs and pats your cheek. “Either answer my question or open up.”

“How does this sound?” Jade offers just as one lithe finger slips inside your hole. You wince and grit your teeth at the intrusion. He chuckles and, without warning, forces a second inside. “If you’re good, we’ll stop by the ice cream shop when it opens tomorrow and get you a milkshake.”

Floyd’s lips split apart in a cheesy smile. “Aren’t you a lucky Shrimpy? Jade likes ya.”

You crane your neck to look at him. He smiles sweetly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Every other part of him seems so receptive to you, but his eyes betray him. They’re just as cold and dull as his brother’s. You’re nothing more than a cut of meat—an offering to sate his appetite.

“It’s important to feed your pets. They’ll starve otherwise.”

“You just wanna get yourself a sundae.”

“That, too.”

“We might as well get somethin’ to eat if we’re gettin’ sweets. Shrimpy can pick the place. Bet they���ve got great taste.”

“A brilliant idea. I’d like to know what sort of cuisine they’re partial to.”

You’re not sure how they can carry on like this as if it’s normal. It’s gross. You feel like you might vomit.

Floyd’s cock prods at your lips. This time, throwing your dignity aside in order to survive, you open wide.

You’re not killed, but something in you dies inside that van.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 5: Artemis, Goddess Of The Hunt]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.6k

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

“So you smoked grass in college,” Aegon says, pondering you with glazed eyes as he slurps his cherry-flavored Mr. Misty. You’re in Biloxi, Mississippi where Aemond is making speeches and meeting with locals to commemorate the first summer of the beaches being desegregated after a decade of peaceful protests and violent white supremacist backlash. Route 90 runs right along the sand dunes. If you walked out of this Dairy Queen, you could look south and see the Gulf of Mexico, placid dark ripples gleaming with moonshine. “And swore, and had a boyfriend, and presumably, what, did shots? Skipped class on occasion?”

“Yeah,” you admit, smiling sheepishly, remembering. You stretch out your fingers. “I chewed gum, I talked during mass. And I loved black nail polish. The nuns would beat my knuckles with rulers, I always had bruises. I wore these flowing skirts down to my ankles and knee-high boots. My hair was a mess, long and blowing around everywhere. My friends and I would do each other’s makeup, silver glitter and purple shadow, pencil on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner and then smudge it out. If you saw a photo you wouldn’t recognize me.”

Aegon takes a drag on his Lucky Strike cigarette, weightless smoke and the tired yellowish haze of florescent lights. Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth is playing from the Zenith radio on the counter by the cash register. “I’d recognize you.”

“I used to skip this one class all the time. The professor was a demon. I could do the math, but not the way he wanted me to. Right solution, wrong steps, I don’t know. I learned it differently in high school, and I couldn’t figure out the formula he wanted me to use. So he’d mark everything a zero even if my answer was correct. I couldn’t stand that bastard. Then the nuns kept catching me sunbathing on the quad when I was supposed to be in Matrices and Vector Spaces. I racked up so many demerits they were going to revoke my weekend pass, and then I wouldn’t be able to go into the city with my friends. So I stole the demerit book and burned it up on the stove in my dorm. Almost set the whole building on fire.”

Aegon is laughing. “You did not. Not you, not perfect ever-obedient Miss America!”

“I did. I really did.” You sip your own Mr. Misty, lemon-lime. Across the restaurant, Criston and Fosco are eating banana splits—dripping chocolate syrup and melted ice cream all over their table—and passionately debating who is going to end up in the World Series; Criston favors the Cardinals and the Orioles, Fosco says the Red Sox and the Cubs. The rest of the Targaryen family is back at the hotel watching news coverage of the Republican National Convention, something you can only stomach so much of, Otto’s cynical commentary, Aemond’s remaining eye fixed fiercely on the screen as he nips at an Old Fashioned. “I was wild back then.”

“And you gave it all up to be Aemond’s first lady.”

You think back to where it started: palm trees, salt water, alligators in drainage ditches. “My father grew up in a shack outside of Tallahassee. No electricity, no running water, he dropped out of school in eighth grade to help take care of his siblings when his mom died. They moved south to live with their aunt in Tampa, and my father wound up in Tarpon Springs working as a sea sponge diver.”

Aegon’s eyebrows rise, like he thinks you’re teasing him. “Sea sponges…?”

“I’m serious! It paid better than picking oranges or sweeping up in a factory. It’s dangerous. You have to wear this heavy rubber suit and walk around on the ocean floor, sometimes 50 feet or more below the surface.”

“What do people do with sea sponges?”

“Oh right, you would be unfamiliar. You’re supposed to clean yourself with them, like a loofah. Soap? Water? Ringing any bells?”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You’re a very mean person. Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example for the merciful wives and daughters of this great nation?”

“Painters and potters buy sponges too. And some women use them as contraceptives. You can soak them in lemon juice and then shove them up there and it kills sperm.”

“I suddenly have great appreciation for the sea sponge industry. God bless the sea sponges.”

“So my father spent a few years diving, and he fell in love with a girl who worked at one of the shops he sold sponges to. That was my mother. They got married when he had absolutely nothing, and by their fifth anniversary he had his own fleet of boats, a gift shop, and a processing and shipping facility, all of which they owned jointly. They just opened the Spongeorama Sponge Factory this past April, a cute little tourist trap. But my point is that they were partners from the start. My father listens to my mother, and she works alongside him, and it was never like what I’ve seen from my friends’ parents: dad at the office 80 hours a week, mom at home strung out on Valium, just these…deeply separate, cold planets locked in orbit but never touching each other. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted a husband who was building something I could be a part of. I wanted a man who respected me.”

Aegon watches you as he lights a fresh cigarette, not saying what you imagine he wants to: And how is that working out? He puffs on his Lucky Strike a few times and then offers it to you. You aren’t supposed to smoke, not even tobacco—it’s not ladylike, it’s masculine, it’s subversive—but you take it and hold it between your index and middle fingers, inhaling an ashy bitterness that blood learns to crave. The bracelets on your wrist jangle, thin silver chains that match the diamonds in your ears. Your dress is mint green, your hair in your signature Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo. Aegon is wearing a black t-shirt with The Who stamped across the front. When you pass the cigarette back to him, Aegon asks: “What music did you listen to? The Stones, The Animals?”

“Yeah. And Hendrix, The Kinks, Aretha Franklin…”

“Phil Ochs?”

“I love him. He’s got a song about Mississippi, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware. It’s one of my favorites.”

“And I’m currently getting a little obsessed with Loretta Lynn. She’s so angry!”

“She’s sanctimonious, that’s what she is. Always bitching about men.”

“Six kids and an alcoholic husband will do that to someone.”

Aegon winces, and then you realize what you’ve said. Loretta Lynn sounds a lot like Mimi. He finishes his Mr. Misty and then fidgets restlessly with his white cardboard cup, spinning it around by the straw. You feel bad, though you shouldn’t. You wouldn’t have a month ago.

“Aegon,” you say gently, and he reluctantly looks up at you, sunburned cheeks, blonde hair shagging over his eyes. “Why do you ignore your children? They’re interesting, they’re fun. Violeta invited me to help her make cakes with her Easy-Bake Oven last week. And Cosmo…he’s so clever. But it’s like he doesn’t know who you are. He might actually think Fosco’s his dad.”

Aegon takes one last drag off his cigarette and discards the end of it in his Mr. Misty cup. Now he’s fiddling with it again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t have much to offer them.”

“I think you do.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do,” you insist. “You can be kind of nice sometimes.”

He frowns, staring out the window. You know he can’t see anything but darkness and streetlights. “I should have been the one to go to Vietnam. If somebody had to get shot at so Aemond could be president, I was the right choice. No one would miss me. No one would mourn me. Daeron didn’t deserve that. But I was too old, so Otto and my father got him to enlist. Now he’s in the jungle and my mother has nightmares about Western Union telegrams. If I was the son over there, I think she’d sleep easier.”

I’m glad you’re still here, you think. Instead you say: “Your children need you.”

“No they don’t. Between me and Mimi, they’re better off as orphans. Helaena and Fosco can be their parents. Maybe they’ll have a fighting chance.”

The glass door opens, and a man walks into the Dairy Queen with his two sons scampering behind him, all with sandy flip flops and carrying fishing rods. The dad is at least six feet tall and brawny, and wearing a Wallace For President baseball cap. You and Aegon both notice it, then share an amused, disparaging glance. You mouth: Imbecile bigot. The man continues to the cash register and orders two chocolate shakes and a root beer float. At their own table, Criston is mopping up melted ice cream with napkins and telling Fosco to stop being such a pig.

“Me?!” Fosco says. “You are the pig, that spot there is your ice cream, do not blame your failings on poor Fosco. I have already let you drag me to this terrible state and never once complained about the fried food or the mosquitos. And that thing out there is not a real beach. The water is still and brown, brown!”

“For once in your life, pretend you have a work ethic and help me clean up the table.”

“You are being very anti-immigrant right now, do you know that?”

Aegon begins singing, ostensibly to himself. “Here’s to the state of Mississippi, for underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines.”

“Aegon, no,” you whisper, petrified. You know this song. You know where he’s going.

He’s beaming as he continues: “If you drag her muddy rivers, nameless bodies you will find.”

Now the man in the Wallace hat is looking at Aegon. His sons are happily gulping down their chocolate shakes. Criston and Fosco, still bickering, haven’t noticed yet.

“Oh, the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes.”

“Aegon, don’t,” you plead quietly. “He’ll murder you.”

“The calendar is lyin’ when it reads the present time.”

“Hey,” calls the man in the Wallace For President hat. “You got a problem, boy?”

Aegon drums his palms on the tabletop as he sings, loudly now: “Oh, here’s to the land you’ve torn out the heart of, Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of!”

In seconds, the man has crossed the room, grabbed Aegon by the collar of his t-shirt, yanked him out of his chair and struck him across the face: closed fist, lethal intent, the sick wet sound of bones on flesh. Aegon’s nose gushes, his lip splits open, but he isn’t flinching away, he isn’t afraid. He’s yowling like a rabid animal and clawing, kicking, swinging at the giant who’s ensnared him. You are screaming as you leap to your feet, your chair falling over and clattering on the floor behind you. The man’s sons are hooting joyously. “Git him, Paw!” one of them shouts.

“Criston?!” you shriek, but he and Fosco are already here, tugging at the man’s massive arms and beating on his back, trying to untangle him from Aegon.

“Stop!” Criston roars. “You don’t want to hurt him! He’s a Targaryen!”

“A Targaryen, huh?” the man says as he steps away, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his tattered white t-shirt, stained with fish guts. “All the better. I wish that bullet they put in Aemond woulda been just another inch to the left. Directly through the aorta.”

Aegon lunges at the man again, hissing, fists swinging. Fosco yanks him back.

“Are you gonna call someone or not?!” Criston snaps at the girl behind the cash register, but she only gives him a steely glare in return. This is Wallace country. There’s a reason why it took four years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to finally desegregate the beaches.

“We should go,” you tell Criston softly.

“Yes, we will leave now,” Fosco says, hauling Aegon towards the front door. Then, to the cashier: “Thank you for the ice cream, but it was not very good. If you are ever in Italy, try the gelato. You will learn so much.”

“I can’t wait ‘til November,” the man gloats, ominous, threatening. His sons are standing tall and proud beside him. “When Aemond loses, you can all cart your asses back to Europe. We don’t want you here. America ain’t for people like you.”

“It literally is,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “It’s on the Statue of Liberty.”

“Yeah, where do you think your ancestors came from?!” Aegon yells at the man. “Are you a Seminole, pal? I didn’t think so—!” Fosco and Criston lug him through the doorway before more punches can be thrown.

Outside—under stars and streetlights and a full moon—Aegon burst out laughing. This is when he feels alive; this is when the blood in his veins turns to wave and riptides. You didn’t think to grab napkins from the table, so you wipe the blood off his face with your bare hand, assessing the damage. He’ll be fine; swollen and sore, but fine.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you say. “You could have been killed.”

Aegon pats your cheek twice and grins, blood on his teeth. “The world would keep spinning, little Io.” Then he starts walking back towards the White House Hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the four of you arrive at your suite, Aemond, Otto, Ludwika, and Alicent are still gathered around the television. The nannies have taken the children to bed. Helaena is reading The Bell Jar in an armchair in the corner of the room. Mimi is passed out on the couch, several empty glasses on the coffee table. ABC is showing a clip they recorded earlier today of Ludwika travelling with Aemond’s retinue after he made an impassioned speech condemning the lack of recognition of the evils of slavery at Beauvoir, the historic home of former Confederate president Jefferson Davis. The reporter is asking Ludwika what she thinks makes Aemond a better presidential candidate than Eugene McCarthy, as McCarthy shares many of the same policy positions and has an additional 15 years of political experience.

“This McCarthy is not a real man,” Ludwika responds, her face stony and mistrustful. “He reminds me of the communists back in my country. Did you know he met with Che Guevara in New York City a few years ago? Why would he do such a thing?”

Now, Otto turns to her in this hotel room. “I love you.”

Ludwika takes a sip of her martini. “I want another Gucci bag.”

“Yes, yes. Tomorrow, my dear.”

“What happened to you?” Aemond asks his brother, half-exasperated and half-concerned. Criston has fetched a washcloth from the bathroom for Aegon to hold against his bleeding lip and nose. Aemond is still wearing his blue suit from a long day of campaigning, but he’s taken out his eye and put on his eyepatch. His gaze flicks from Aegon’s face to the blood still coating your left hand. On the couch, Mimi’s bare foot twitches but she doesn’t wake up.

“There was a Wallace supporter at the Dairy Queen,” you say. “Aegon felt inspired to defend you.”

Aemond chuckles. “Did you win?” he asks Aegon.

“I would have if the guy wasn’t two of me.”

On the television screen, Richard Nixon is accepting his party’s nomination for president at the Republican National Convention in Miami, Florida.

“He’s a buffoon,” Otto sneers. “So awkward and undignified. Look at him sweating! Look at those ridiculous jowls! And he comes from nothing. His family is trash.”

“Americans love a rags to riches story,” you say. And then, somewhat randomly: “He loves his wife. He proposed to Pat on their very first date, and she said no. So he drove her to dates with other men for years until she finally reconsidered. He said it was love at first sight. He’s never had a mistress. And jowls or no jowls, his family adores him.”

Aegon turns to you, still clutching the washcloth against his face. “Really?”

You nod. “That’s the sort of thing the women talk about.”

There’s a knock at the door. You all look at each other, confounded; no one has ordered room service, no one is expecting any visitors, and the nannies have keys in the event of an emergency. Fosco is closest to the door, so he opens it. A man in uniform is standing there with a golden Western Union telegram in his hands. Alicent screams and collapses. Criston bolts to her.

“It’s okay,” you say. “He’s not dead. Whatever happened, Daeron’s not dead.”

Otto crinkles his brow at you. “How do you know?”

“Because if he was killed, there would be a priest here too.” They always send a priest when the boy is dead. Aegon glances at you, eyes wet and fearful.

“Ma’am,” the soldier—a major you see now, spotting the golden oak leaves—says to Alicent as he removes his cap. “I regret to inform you that your son Daeron was missing in action for several weeks, and we’ve just received confirmation that he’s being held as a prisoner of war in Hỏa Lò Prison.”

“He’s in the Hanoi Hilton?!” Otto exclaims. “Oh, fuck those people and their swamp, how did Kennedy ever think we had something to gain from getting tangled up in that mess?”

“But he’s alive?” Aemond says. “He’s unharmed?”

“Yes sir,” the captain replies. “It is our understanding that he is in good condition. The North Vietnamese are aware that he is a very valuable prisoner, like Admiral McCain’s son John. He’ll be used in negotiations. He is of far more use to them alive than dead.”

“So we can get Daeron back,” Aegon says. “I mean, we have to be able to, right? Aemond’s running for president, he’ll probably win in November, we have millions of dollars, we can spring one man out of some third-world jail, right?”

The captain continues: “Tomorrow when your family returns to New Jersey, the Joint Chiefs of Staff will be there to discuss next steps with you. I’m afraid I’m only authorized to give you the news as it was relayed to me.” He entrusts the telegram to Otto, who rapidly opens it and stares down at the mechanical typewriter words.

“I have to pray,” Alicent says suddenly. “Helaena, will you pray with me? There’s a Greek church down the road. Holy Trinity, I think it’s called.”

Obediently, Helaena joins her mother and follows her to the doorway. Criston leaves with them. Otto gives his new wife a harsh, meaningful stare. Ludwika, an ardent yet covert atheist, sighs irritably. “Wait. I want to pray too,” she says, and vanishes with them into the hall.

As the captain departs, Mimi sits up on the couch, blinking, groggy. “What? What happened?”

“Go with Alicent,” Otto tells her. “She’s headed downstairs.”

“What? Why…?”

“Just go!” he barks.

Mimi staggers to her feet and hobbles out of the hotel room, her sundress—patterned with forget-me-nots—billowing around her. The only people left are Otto, Aemond, Fosco, Aegon, and you. The fact that you are the sole woman permitted to remain here feels intentional.

After a moment, Otto speaks. “You know, John McCain has famously refused to be released from the Hanoi Hilton until all the men imprisoned before him have been freed. He doesn’t want special treatment. And that’s a very noble thing to do, don’t you think? It has endeared him and the McCains to the public.”

Aemond and Otto are looking at each other, communicating in a silent language not of letters or accents but colors: red ambition, green hunger, grey impassionate morality. Fosco is observing them uneasily. Aemond says at last: “Daeron wants to help this family.”

“You’re not going to try to get him out.” Aegon realizes.

Aemond turns to him, businesslike, vague distant sympathy. “It’s only until November.”

“No, you know people!” Aegon explodes. “You pick up the phone, you call in every favor, you get him out of there now! You have no idea if he has another three months, you don’t know what kind of shape he’s in! They could be dislocating his arms or chopping off his fingers right now, they could be starving him, they could be beating him, you can’t just leave him there!”

“It’s not your decision. It could have been, had you accepted your role as the eldest son. But you didn’t. So it’s my job to handle these things. You don’t get to hate me for making choices you were too cowardly too take responsibility for.”

“But Daeron could die,” Aegon says, his voice going brittle.

“Any of us could die. We’re in a very dangerous line of work. Greatness killed Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Huey Long, Medgar Evers, John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Vernon Dahmer, Martin Luther King Jr., does that mean we should all give up the fight? Of course not. The work isn’t finished. We have to keep going.”

“Will you stop pretending this is about America?! This is about you wanting to be president, and everything you’ve ever done has been in pursuit of that trophy, and you keep shoving new people into the line of fire and it’s not right!”

“Aegon,” Otto says calmly. “It’s unlikely we’d be able to get him out before the election anyway. Negotiations take time. But if Aemond wins in November, he’ll be in a very advantageous position. The North Vietnamese aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t kill the brother of a U.S. president. They don’t want their vile little corner of the world flattened by nukes.”

“Still, it feels so wrong to leave a brother in peril,” Fosco says. “It is unnatural. Of course Aegon will be upset. We could at least see what a deal to get Daeron released would entail, maybe his arrival home would be a good headline—”

“And who the fuck asked you?” Otto demands, and Fosco goes quiet.

“Okay, then tell Mom,” Aegon says to Aemond. “Tell her you’re going to pretend Daeron made some self-sacrificial vow not to come home until all the other POWs can too. Tell her you’re going to let him get tortured for a few months before you take this seriously.”

Aemond replies cooly: “Why would you want to upset her? She can’t change it. You’ll only make her suffering worse.”

“What do you think?” Otto asks you, and you know that he isn’t seeking counsel. He’s summoning you like a dog to perform a trick, like an actor to recite a line. He’s waiting for you to say that it’s a smart strategy, because it is. He’s waiting for you to bend to Aemond’s will as your station requires you to, as moons are bound to their planets.

“I think it’s wrong,” you murmur; and Aemond is thunderstruck by your treason.

Without another word, you walk into the bathroom, turn on the sink, and gaze down at Aegon’s blood on your palm. For some reason, it’s very difficult to bring yourself to wash it away.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s mid-August now, the world painted in goldenrod yellow and sky blue. The Democratic National Convention is in two weeks. You and Aemond are posing on the beach at Asteria, surrounded by an adoring gaggle of journalists who are snapping photographs and jotting down quotes on their notepads. You’re sitting demurely on a sand dune, you’re building sandcastles with the children you borrowed from Aegon and Helaena, you’re flying kites, you’re gazing confidently into the sunlit horizon where a glorious new age is surely dawning.

“Mr. Targaryen, what is it that makes your partnership so successful?” a journalist asks as flashbulbs pulse like lightning. “What do you think is the most crucial characteristic to have in a wife?”

Aemond doesn’t need to consider this before he answers. He always has his compliment picked out. “Loyalty,” your husband says. “Not just to me or to the Targaryen family, but to our shared cause. This year has been indescribably difficult for me and my wife. I announced my candidacy, we embarked on a strenuous national campaign that we’re currently only halfway through, I barely survived a brutal assassination attempt in May, in July we lost our first child to hyaline membrane disease after he was born six weeks prematurely, and at the beginning of this month we learned that my youngest brother Daeron was taken by the North Vietnamese as a prisoner of war. To find the strength not just to get out of bed in the morning, not just to be there for me and this family in our personal lives, but to tirelessly traverse the country with me inspiring Americans to believe in a better future…it’s absolutely remarkable. I’m in awe of her. And when she is the first lady of the United States, she will continue to amaze us all with her unwavering faith and dedication.”

There are whistles and cheers and strobing flashbulbs. You smile—elegant, soft, practiced—as Aemond rests a hand firmly on your waist. You lean into him, feeling out-of-place, bewildered that you’ve ever slept with him, full of dull panic that soon you’ll have to again.

“How about you, Mrs. Targaryen?” another reporter asks. “Same question, essentially. What is the trait that you most admire in your husband?”

And in the cascading clicks of photographs being captured, your mind goes entirely blank. You can think of so many other people—Aegon, Ari, Alicent, Daeron, Fosco, Cosmo—but not Aemond. It’s like you’ve blocked him out somehow, like he’s a sketch you erased. But you can’t hesitate. You can’t let the uncertainty read on your face. You begin speaking without knowing where you’re going, something that is rare for you. “Aemond is the most tenacious person I’ve ever met. When he has a goal in mind, nothing can stop him.” You pause, and there are a few awkward chuckles from the journalists. You swiftly recover. “He never stops learning. He always knows the right thing to do or say. And what he wants more than anything is to serve the American people. Aemond won’t disappoint you. He’s not capable of it. He will do whatever it takes to make this country more prosperous, more peaceful, and more free.”

There are applause and gracious thank yous, but Aemond gives you a look—just for a second, just long enough that you can catch it—that warns you to get it together. Fifteen minutes later, he and the flock of reporters are headed to one of the guest houses to conduct a long-form interview. This will be the bulk of the article; you will appear in one or two photos, you will supply a few quotes. The rest of the story is Aemond. You are an accessory, like a belt or a bracelet. He’s the person who picks you out of a drawer each morning and wears you until you go out of fashion.

Released from your obligations, you return to the main house and disappear into your upstairs bathroom. You are there for fifteen minutes and emerge rattled, routed. You pace aimlessly around your bedroom for a while, then try again; still no luck. You go back outside and stare blankly at the ocean, wondering what you’re going to do. Down on the beach, Fosco is teaching the kids how to yo-yo. Ludwika is sunbathing in a bikini.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You whirl to see Aegon, popping a Valium into his mouth and washing it down with a splash of straight rum from a coffee mug. “Huh? Nothing. I’m great.”

“No, something’s wrong. You look lost. You look like me.”

You gaze out over the ocean again, chewing your lower lip.

Aegon snickers, fascinated, sensing a scandal. “What did you do?”

Your eyes drift to him. “You can’t make fun of me.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

There is a long, heavy lull before you answer. When you speak, it’s all in a rush, like you can’t unburden yourself of the words fast enough. “I put a tampon in and I can’t get it out.”

Aegon immediately breaks his promise and cackles. “You did what?!” Then he tries to be serious. “Wait. Sorry. Uh, really?”

You’re on the verge of tears. “I’ve been bleeding since I had the baby, and I hate using tampons, I almost never do, but Aemond wanted me to wear this dress for the photoshoot and it’s super gauzy and from certain angles I felt like I could see the pad bulge when I checked in the mirror, so I put a tampon in for the first time in probably a year. I’m not even supposed to be using them for another few weeks because my uterus isn’t healed all the way or whatever. And now I can’t get it out and it’s been in there for like six hours and I’m scared I’m going to get an infection and die in the most pointless, humiliating way imaginable.”

“Okay, calm down, calm down,” Aegon says. “There’s no string?”

“No, I’ve checked multiple times. It must be a defective one and they forgot to put a string in it at the factory and I didn’t notice, or the string somehow got tucked under it, I don’t know, but I can’t get it out, it’s like…the angle isn’t right. I can just barely feel it with my fingertips, but I can’t grab it. I’m going to have to go to the hospital to get it taken out, but I’m scared word will spread and journalists will show up to get photos when I leave and then everyone will be asking me why I was at the emergency room to begin with and I’m going to have to make up something and…and…” You can’t talk anymore. There are other reasons why you don’t want to go to the hospital. You haven’t stepped foot in one since Ari died; the thought makes you feel like you are looking down to see blood on your thighs all over again, like you’ll never have enough air in your lungs.

“Did you bleed through it? Because that should help it slide out easier.”

“I don’t know,” you moan miserably. “I mean, I guess I did, because there was blood when I checked a few minutes ago. I had to stuff my underwear with toilet paper.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Aemond you couldn’t wear this dress?”

You give him an impatient glance. “I’m tired of having the same conversation.” When do you think you’ll be done bleeding? When do you think it’ll be time to start trying again?

Aegon sighs. “Do you want me to get it out for you?”

“Please stop. I’m really panicking here.”

“I’m not joking.”

You stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have fished many objects out of many orifices, you cannot shock me. I am unshockable.”

“I’d rather walk down to the sand right now and strangle myself with Fosco’s yo-yo.”

“Okay. So who are you gonna ask to drive you to the hospital?”

You hesitate.

“I’d offer to do it,” Aegon says, grinning, holding up his mug. “But I’m in no condition to drive.”

“But you are in the proper condition to extract a rogue tampon, huh?”

“Two minutes tops. That’s a guarantee. My personal best is fifteen seconds. And that was for a lost condom, much trickier to locate than a tampon.”

Perhaps paradoxically, the more you consider his offer, the more tempting it seems. No complicated trip and cover story? Over in just a few minutes? “If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never forgive you. I will hate you forever.”

Aegon taunts: “I thought you already hated me.”

You aren’t sure what you feel for him, but it’s certainly not hate. Not anymore. “Where would we do it?”

“In my office. And by that I mean my basement.”

“Your filthy, disease-ridden basement? On your shag carpet full of crabs?”

“You’re in luck,” he jokes. “My crab exterminator service just came by yesterday.”

You exhale in a low, despairing groan.

“Hey, would you rather do it on the dining room table? I’m game. Your choice.”

You watch the seagulls swooping in the afternoon air, the banners of sailboats on the glittering water. “Okay. The basement.”

You walk with Aegon to the house and—after ensuring that no one is around to notice—sneak with him down the creaking basement steps, the door locked behind you. Aegon is darting around; he sets a small trashcan by the carpet and tosses you two towels, then goes to wash his hands in his tiny bathroom, not nearly enough room for someone to stretch out across the linoleum floor.

You’re surveying the scene nervously. “I don’t want to get blood all over your stuff.”

“You’re the cleanest thing that’s ever been on that carpet. Lie down.”

You place one towel on the green shag carpet, then whisk off your panties, discard the bloody knot of toilet paper in the trashcan, and pull the skirt of your dress up around your waist so it’s out of the way. Then you sit down and drape the second towel over your thighs so you’re hidden from him, like you’re about to be examined by a doctor. Your heart is thumping, but you don’t exactly feel like you want to stop. It’s more exhilarating than fear, you think; it is forbidden, it is shameful, it is a microscopic betrayal of Aemond that he’ll never know about.

Aegon moseys out of the bathroom, flicking drops of water from his hands. He wears one of his usual counterculture uniforms: a frayed green army jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki shorts, tan moccasins. He kicks them off before he kneels on the shag carpet. He checks the clock on the wall. “2:07. I promised two minutes max. Let’s see how I do. Ready?”

You rest the back of your head on your linked hands, raise your knees, take a deep and unsteady breath. “Ready.”

But he can see that you’re shaking. “Hey,” Aegon says kindly, pressing his hand down on the towel so you’re covered. “Do you want me to go to the hospital with you? I’ll try to distract people. I’ll pretend I’m having a seizure or something.”

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. “I just want it out. I want this over with.”

“Got it.” And then he begins. He stares at the wall to his left, not looking at you, navigating by feel. You feel the pressure of two fingers, a stretching that is not entirely unpleasant. He’s warm and careful, strangely unobtrusive. Still, you suck in a breath and shift on the carpet. “Shh, shh, shh,” Aegon whispers, skimming his other hand up and down the inside of your thigh, and shiver like you’ve never felt before rolls backwards up the length of your spine. “Relax. You alright?”

“Fine. Totally fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely in there,” Aegon says. His brow is creased with comprehension. “No string…you’re right, it must either be tangled up somehow or it never had one to begin with. Maybe you accidentally inserted it upside down.”

“Now you insult my intelligence. As if I’m not embarrassed enough.”

“I should have put on a record to set the mood. What gets you going, Marvin Gaye? Elvis?”

“The seductive voice of Richard Milhous Nixon. Maybe you can get him on the phone.”

Aegon laughs hysterically. His fingertips push the tampon against your cervix and you yelp. “Sorry, sorry, my mistake,” Aegon says. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, on his temples; now his eyes are squeezed shut. “I’m gonna try to wiggle it out…”

As he works, there are sensations you can’t quite explain: a very slow-building indistinct desire, a loosening, a readying, a drop in your belly when you think about the fact that he’s the one touching you. Then he happens to press in just the right spot and there is a sudden pang of real pleasure—craving, aching, a deep red flare of previously unfathomable temptation—and you instinctively reach for him. You hand meets his forearm, and for the first time since he started Aegon looks at your face, alarmed, afraid that he’s hurt you again. But once your eyes meet you’re both trapped there, and you can’t pretend you’re not, his fingers still inside you, his pulse racing, a rivulet of sweat snaking down the side of his face, his eyes an opaque murky blue like water you’re desperate to claw your way into. You know what you want to tell him, but the words are impossible. Don’t stop. Come closer.

Aegon clears his throat, forces himself to look away, and at last dislodges the tampon. It appears dark and bloody in his grasp. “No string,” he confirms, holding it up and turning it so you can see. “Factory reject.”

“Just like you.”

He glances at the clock. “2:09. I delivered precisely what was promised.” He chucks the tampon into the trashcan and then grins as he helps pull you upright with his clean hand. “So do you like to cuddle afterwards, or…?”

You’re giggling, covering your flushed face. “Shut up.”

“Personally, I enjoy being ridden into the ground and then called a good boy.”

“Go away.” You nod to where he disposed of the tampon and say before stopping to think: “You’re not going to keep that under your ashtray too?”

Aegon freezes and blinks at you. He smiles slowly, cautiously. “No, I think that would be a little unorthodox, even for me.” He pitches you a clean washcloth from the bathroom closet. “That should get you upstairs.”

“Thanks.” You shove it between your legs and rise to your feet, smoothing the skirt of your dress. “I owe you something. I’m not sure what, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey,” Aegon says, and waits for you to turn to him. “Maybe I’m not that bad.”

“Maybe,” you agree thoughtfully.

Just before you hurry upstairs, you steal a glimpse of Aegon in the bathroom, the door kicked only half-closed. He has turned on the water, but he’s not using it yet. Aegon is staring down at the blood on his hand, half-dried scarlet impermanent ink.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, it’s me again. I’m in solitary confinement. There’s a guy in the cell next to mine; we talk to each other with a modified version of Morse code. Tap tap tap on the wall, he taps back, etcetera etcetera, you get the idea. You’re not going to believe this, but he says his name is John McCain. Well, actually, he told me his name is Jobm McCbin, but I think that’s because I translated the taps wrong. I might be in the Hanoi Hilton, but at least they have me in the VIP section! Hahaha.

Every few hours the guards show up to do a very impressive magic trick: they wave their batons like wands, I turn black and blue. Sometimes one of my teeth even disappears. Isn’t that something? Houdini would love it. There’s a rat that I’m making friends with. I give her nibbles of my stale bread, she gives me someone to talk to. She’s good company. I’ve named her Tessarion.

Allow me to make something absolutely fucking clear.

I would very much like to be rescued.

[vampzzi]

TRAINED OUT

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Captain John price x Keegan P Russ x "Soap" MacTavish x Konig x Female reader

cw: this all consensual, running a train, creampie, tit fucking, blowjobs, choking, hair pulling, blood kink, rough sex, cervix kissing, awkward sex positions that took me too long to figure out how to write, Dacryphilia, cum drinking, cumming on body, just really messy sex, porn without plot, consented recording, anal fingering, anal sex with prep, vaginal sex, pussy slapping

author's note : thank you for 100+ followers, enjoy this mess of a post while I push myself into exam week. post will be more distant cause of exam week

TAGLIST (just ask to be added!!) : @antishadow2021 @banana-gurl20-blog

MALE VERSION ! . . . .

The camera light flickered as Keegan held the phone, the light flashing red showing that it was recording as you looked up at the camera and looked away nervously. When Soap mentioned something about a train, you didn’t think it would be this many people. 

You held your finger up and counted..Ghost, Keegan, Soap and Konig. Price was briefly mentioned but you didn’t know how much you could take before he could get to you. 

Alright..Soap turned his back to you and held a smile as you nervously smiled back and did a stiff wave as cleared his throat. “You’ve got a long way ahead of you, but before we get to it.” He paused.

 “Are you clean? Like any STD’s orr” chiming in before he could finish “If I had an STD, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have agreed. That’d be cruel and evil.” He only nodded at your response “Anyways, who do you want to go first?” You haven’t thought of that yet, Keegan only held on the phone and kept it rolling.

He seemed uneasy but calm, his icy blue eyes burning into yours as you broke eye contact with him and looked at your options. “Keegan.” He clutched onto the phone with a tight grip as he tensed up and relaxed, trying to keep his composure. “Alright then.” 

He out stretched his arm  as Keegan walked up to him and placed the phone  in his hand. It honestly made you wonder what would people think if this is what the Task 141 does in their freetime, “training”. 

 Keegan literally had no fucking idea how he got convinced to do this, this is something he’d think about and immediately say “nope” or “pass”.  He had experience it’s just he felt vulnerable in this situation, this felt way more than intimate and he couldn’t put his finger on this feeling.

“Say..instead of 1 person, how about you pick one more Name.” Soap spoke as you chuckled and pointed without even thinking “Ghost.” He was expecting to be last if he was honest with himself but that quite surprised him. Ghost and Keegan sat on the bed as you sandwiched yourself between the two big men as you felt smaller. 

They were both insanely strong and good looking, your breathing was heavy as you looked around. Keegan shoved what little bit of dignity he had inside him and kissed you as you submitted in the kiss. Ghost hands snaking around your waist as the skull part of his mask dug into your skin as he rested on your shoulder, he wasn’t going to lift his mask in front of all these people.

Now if it was you, it would be completely different. But he still did it anyway as he placed kisses on your neck as you mewled out. He nibbed and dragged his teeth from the atlas of your neck to your collarbone, repeating the motion as he bit down harder and harder each time. 

Each time, it would strike moans out of you as Keegan’s tongue explored the wet cavern of your mouth, tongues meshing with each other while your vision doubled, the feeling of you being disassociated from your body had you pushing yourself into the men. 

The feeling of your blood trickling your neck along with the feeling of Ghost’s warm tongue licking up the evidence as you pulled away from Keegan to breathe. As they both looked at you, pupils blown with lust, hair in a different state than a few minutes ago. 

You were completely out of it and they were too as Ghost raised his head from your shoulder and smirked as your blood was at the corner of his mouth, the metallic smell held a trance over you. Keegan helped you lay back as your head laid over the edge of the bed and your bottoms were pulled off as well as your garments, the room was actually colder than you thought it was as the coolness washed over your warm pussy.

Keegan's hands trailed down your waist and over your mound to your wet folds while Ghost was focused on the belt of his pants, he really should have taken all these unnecessary belts off just like when he took his gear off before getting here. Freeing himself from the decades worth of belts, he pulls his pants down as you can see bulge in his boxers as you almost salivate at the sight.

Your other partner on the other hand is already heavy against your folds, rubbing up and down against your cunt as he smears your juices over his heavy cock. Ghost pulls his boxers down and takes his cock out and strokes it as he smirks “Open wide, pretty girl..” he coos as you open your mouth and he slowly pulls into your mouth as you take every inch.

He’s still pushing into your mouth until he pushes through the tight squeeze and settles inside your throat while you’re to the base of his cock. Face against his shaved pelvis , as Ghost holds a taunting smirk on his face “pretty slut taking what’s giving to her..” he says under his breath, Keegan is more busy thrusting into your cunt as he pushes inside and you jolt forward. 

Choking on Ghost’s cock as he groans out at the feeling, they both thrust at the same time but not the same pace. Ghost is calling you a bitch,whore while also keeping it warm while Keegan is grunting and pulsing inside you as he cusses and whines about how tight you are. 

The roughness and whininess from them has your head spinning. You can only take what your given while Ghost fucks your throat throughly, your pretty sure you have a bulge in your throat from Ghost big size while he fucks your face at a pace, you’re not sure how he’s lasting so long at. 

It doesn’t help how Keegan is fucking you and hitting your sweet spots along with your cervix while flicking your clit and pressing down on it, even applying a slap to it as your eyes are watering and your letting out choked sobs and moans. Konig and Price watch closely as you get your holes stuffed and fucked, the pushing back and fourth from the men cause of their harsh unwavering paces. 

No signs of stopping as Keegan can sweat drip down his back and the side of his forehead as he can feel his cock about to explode, as he edges himself to keep going as that doesn’t go as planned as he pulls out and cums all over your cunt, you moan around Ghost’s cock as he’s still fighting his own denied orgasm. 

He holds you close and paints your throat white, the warm fluid filling your mouth as you gulp it down as it’s the best you’ve ever had. He pulls out of your mouth as some cum drips out and onto the floor as you pant out and the men collect their clothing and move out the way.

 “Hm, you lasted longer than I expected,” Soap muttered out. “Guess it our turn Konig” Soap passes the camera back to Keegan. Konig uncrosses his arm and stops leaning on the wall as Soap and Konig walk up to you as you sit up. 

Soap took off his shirt and completely stripped himself but his boxer as he laid down “Come here Name”. 

Soap says as you move over to her and he grabs you by your hips and helps you into a kneeling position as he has you spread your legs a bit more, you help him get his boxers off and he lets out a light hearted laugh “eager, aren't we?” he teased as you rolled your eyes and examined his girth and size.

Not as thick as Ghost or Keegan but he made up for it with his length, “C..Can I?” you breathe out and “Course you can darling.” you slowly sink your pussy down on his cock as he moans out, slapping your ass as you yelp. 

“Fuck, you are tight!” Soap says as you hit the base of him as you feel Konig’s warm hands on your ass as he’s pouring lube on your puckering hole and circling it. Sinking his fingers into it as you focus on the two mixed pleasures as you feel like you’re gonna go cross eyed soon.

Once Konig deems you’re prepared enough, his cock is at your hole. He only says one thing before pushing into you “I hope you’re for this.” The bass and growl in his body has your body shaking as he pushes inside as you dip your nails into Soap’s chest, The way they’re both deep inside of you just like the previous two has you wondering how they don’t have partners. 

They don’t go in Unison like Keegan and Ghost would, they’re fucking brutual. Both moving at fast pace that has you slapping against the base of Soap with loud noises as Konig slaps your ass and holds onto it while fucking into you and Soap is just thrusting into you with a fucking rough pace as he keeps kissing your spots. 

You could pass out from all this if you really wanted to, but you didn’t want too, Konig grabbed you by the Neck and held onto your neck as you choked out a moan as he turned your head to kiss him, while he thrusted into you and Soap gave a few harsh thrusts that had you bouncing upward. The recording was going for a while but they kept at it, you didn’t think you’d get creampied by both Konig and Soap but they blew inside of you with loud cursing as Konig held you by your neck with a low growl while Soap was completely out of it.

The room was reeked of sex, cum and sweat. But hey it bought you guys all together in the end as you laid on the bed and your chest heaved up and down. Soap was of course gonna take care of you as this was his silly little idea as he held a rag and helped clean off the cum while Ghost helped you with clothes and Konig helped with your hair and Keegan gave you words of praise. This was definitely going in your diary as the best moment of your fucking life.

* BONUS !! Price <33

While everyone went with Soap to get you things to help clean up the door opened and Price walked in and smiled down at you. “Well, looks like you had fun” you chuckled and sat up. “You could say that”. “Do you mind if I?” he lifted his hands defensively and you clicked your tongue “I don’t mind, in fact I welcome it” bringing a smile to his face. 

He walked up to you and unzipped his pants, pulling his boxers down along with his pants and laying his cock against the soft of your breast. You squished them as he nestled between them and sighed out “Ready?” Price said and you made eye contact with him “Ready than I’II ever be.” He thrusted between your boobs with a rough pace as the tip kissed your lips as you snuck your tongue and applied a kitten lick to the head as he bit his lip.

“Fuck..Do that again” he said as you repeated the kitten licks to his head before taking the tip in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it and licking in the slit while he thrust between your soft breast as he gasped and grunted as he rutted against your mouth to take more of his cock.

He was pulsing as you could feel how much warmer his cock was as he pulled away and came on your tits, opening your mouth as some hit your tongue and face. “You’re fuckin messy, but I love my girls messy” Price said before the door opened to the others returning back.

“Looks like Price is here” Soap says “How about a round 2 but with price?” “sounds like a plan.”

[irisintheafterglow]

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

summary: a creep walks up to the shake stand window. your favorite customer scares him off. (college au!iwaizumi x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: college!au iwaizumi, creepy dude but he gets scared off don't worry, buff iwa gets nervous around you

note: so there's a protein shake stand like right outside my school's gym and that's where the inspiration for this little brain fart came from. also this is wholeheartedly dedicated to @shotorus my favorite iwa simp. i really hope you like this, it's my first time writing for your man but it most definitely will not be the last :D

likes, replies, and reblogs are appreciated <3

You didn’t anticipate finding a gym crush outside of the student rec center. Yet, there he was, every day at 5:00 passing the stand and every day at 6:30 ordering his usual, strawberries and bananas with chocolate protein powder. It’s a wonder how strictly he stuck to his schedule and you made it a point to have his order queued up in the system by the time he got to the window. To your detriment, it seemed that your infatuation had become obvious enough to your usually-oblivious coworkers. 

“At this point, I think you took this job just to ogle him,” one of your friends points out as she runs a colander of fruit under the faucet. You give her a lighthearted glare and she flicks a few water droplets at you. “I’d guess you like seeing him more than the tips that other guys put in the jar. You really do so much for this company,” she says patronizingly and you roll your eyes. She had a point; you tended not to notice the phone numbers written on dirty napkins or social media handles hastily drawn on dollar bills. None of them interested you. None of them, except for the dude with a body like a Greek hero that made you want to get kidnapped by some mythological being. 

“I just think he has a nice physique; is that such a bad thing?” She shoots you a skeptical look and you turn away sheepishly to check the clock. Thirty seconds to 6:30. “He should be here in a little bit,” you say quietly to yourself, hoping she doesn’t hear. It’s a nice sentiment, but ultimately futile. 

“You’re counting down the seconds? Man, you’re worse than I thought.” She pats your shoulder sympathetically as she passes behind you and you lean your hands on the register counter. 

“As if you’ve never had a gym crush before,” you fire back. 

“You’re supposed to actually be inside the gym to have a gym crush,” she reminds you and you groan. “Why don’t you just switch your shift so you can see him while you workout?”

“I tutor before this, remember? Plus, I need to be able to charm the evening regulars so I can keep paying rent,” you admit. She nods in understanding and a glance at the clock shows ten seconds until 6:30. Your other usuals had come and gone for the day: the guy in the blue tank top that only seemed to work his forearms and biceps, the girl with the silly socks that had the most muscular calves you’d ever seen, the two frat bros with their backwards caps and arrogant voices. It hits 6:30, however, and your favorite regular isn’t behind the glass. He isn’t anywhere around, you realize. You can’t help the frown that draws the corner of your mouth down and, when you look to your coworker for support, she merely shrugs before grabbing a tub of powder from the top shelf. “It’s odd that he isn’t here yet.”

“Only you would think that,” she teases and you refocus on pulling up his usual order on the payment screen. “Maybe he got sick. There’s that frat flu going around right now.”

“Why would he be in a frat, though? And also, he’s definitely the type to wipe the hell out of every machine he uses.”

“If he uses machines; personally, he strikes me as a free weights-only kind of guy.” Before you can reply, a knock on the glass startles you back into customer-service mode. The man in front of you looked relatively normal, but the way his eyes looked you up and down several times made your stomach queasy. It wasn’t the first time creeps had checked you out through the window, but maybe you were feeling a little extra vulnerable waiting around for a regular who didn’t even know your name. Avoiding the man’s intrusive gaze, you shakily pull up his order, swipe his card for payment, and let him know that his shake would be ready soon. 

“I have a question,” he says slowly before you can run and hide in the back. “What time are you out of here?”

“I’m not done for a while,” you state vaguely, praying that he wouldn’t ask about the remaining two and a half hours of your shift. “I work until closing.”

“I can come back and get you when you close.” His voice makes your skin crawl and his eyes feel like knives on your body.

“Excuse me?”

“Let me take you out to dinner. A nice looking person like you shouldn’t be alone at night.” Your heart drops into your stomach and your feet remain rooted to the floor, terrified in place. Was he gonna try to do something after you were off?

“Look, I’m not interested in any–”

“Hey, man. Are you done ordering yet? You’re holding up the line,” intrudes a voice that feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders. Somewhere between his usual order time and the creep asking you out, your favorite little crush came to stand in line to pay. His shoulders seemed extra broad today and the muscle of his biceps flexed under his compression shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest, staring daggers down at the guy who was freaking you out. He’d never looked so handsome, all sharp jawline and flexed muscles and piercing eyes. The creep recoils and scurries away, allowing you to take a deep breath that helps relieve some of the tension in your forehead. By pure muscle memory and running on adrenaline, your fingers swipe over the tablet and pull up his usual order before he can even say hello. 

“Strawberry and banana with chocolate protein powder, right?”

“Yeah, that…that’s mine,” he says, slightly taken aback by the lingering expression of panic on your face. While he eyes you warily, you swipe his card and hand him his receipt, suddenly desperate to just disappear into the back for the rest of your shift. “Hey, are you okay?”

“What? No, yeah. I’m fine, totally fine,” you lie and give him a weak smile. His eyebrows furrow slightly and you can feel him try to analyze you, but not in the dehumanizing way as your previous customer. His eyes searched your expression worriedly and you caught him biting skin from his lip in concern. “It’s just that the guy before you was being a little weird.” Calling him “weird” was an understatement, but you didn’t want to inconvenience him more than you already have. “I’m fine, really.” He watches you for a moment more and then nods, murmuring a thank you under his breath and finding a spot to wait for his shake. 

“This fell on the floor by the trash can,” he says plainly when he walks up to the pickup window after you call out his drink. The creepy guy hadn’t left the area yet, so your fight or flight instincts were still going haywire. Your gym crush, however, momentarily takes your attention by subtly sliding a dirty piece of paper across the counter to you as he picks up his cup with the other hand. “Thanks; I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before you can blink, he’s gone, leaving you with a cryptic folded message that makes your head spin. You sputter out an awkward farewell and hastily unfold the piece of paper. 

I’ll be studying in the computer lab until the stand closes. If he’s still bothering you, come find me and I’ll walk you to your car or your dorm or wherever. -Iwaizumi Hajime 

A sturdy rectangle of plastic falls from the paper and you stare at it in disbelief. It was an ID card for the university’s after-hours patrol division with his picture, full name, and student number printed on it. Iwaizumi, you echo mentally, you’re too good to be true. And, true to his promise, he’s a respectful distance away and stands with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants at 9:00 when you lock up the shake stand. You’d lost sight of the creep an hour after Iwaizumi picked up his drink, but the paranoia didn’t leave your body and you’re only able to relax when he approaches you. 

“This is yours,” you say, handing him his ID card with a small smile. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Of course. I’m sorry you had to deal with him,” he replies regretfully, uncomfortably adjusting his water bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. “None of the guys at the gym like him. He’s always hitting on girls and giving them weird looks.” 

“Looks like he was forced to look outside the gym, then,” you laugh lightly, feeling the tension release from your shoulders as you walk next to Iwaizumi in the direction of the parking lot. “Did your drink still taste okay? Or did my nervousness make it taste funny?” When he chuckles, it sounds like sunshine. 

“It was just as tasty as it always is, thank you. You’ve really figured out how to make me the perfect drink every time.”

“Anything for my favorite customer,” you say without hesitation and your face feels like it’s been lit on fire. To your surprise, however, it seemed that Iwaizumi was just as flustered by your words. His eyes widen and his pretty mouth gapes a little bit, blinking rapidly to fix the short circuit in his brain. “I just hope he doesn’t come around here again. He makes my stomach churn.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he forces out and he’s silent for a while until your car is in sight. “Hey, sorry if this is super off-base, but do you wanna workout with me sometime? I can change the time I go but, if it means you don’t feel scared by that guy anymore, I’ll gladly rearrange my schedule.” 

“You want me to workout with you?”

“I’d like to meet you for lunch sometime, too, but I figured I’d start with baby steps,” he admits, running a hand nervously through his hair while you fish your keys from your bag. “If you don’t want to, that’s totally fine–”

“No, no, I’d love to,” you reassure him and he looks visibly relieved. “I’ll change up my shift so you can still go around the same time you usually do, and I can just meet you outside. I’ve been needing a new spotter since mine picked up extra shifts in the library.” 

“Great, yeah, awesome,” he says, a little dumbfounded by how eagerly you would give him a chance. If he was being honest, he’d wanted to ask you your name for months since you memorized his order, but he didn’t want to come off as pushy and ruin his chance with you. “Do you, uh, mind if I give you my number? Or I can give you a social media handle too if you’re not comfortable sharing your number.” God, he’s so good. He is so, so good. “Can you let me know you get home safe?”

“I will,” you promise. “Thank you for everything, Iwaizumi.”

“You can call me Hajime, if you want,” he offers softly and the fondness in his voice makes your heart flip. “Iwaizumi is fine too. Anything is fine.” 

“Right,” you smile. “Well, goodnight, Hajime. Get home safe.”

“You too. Talk soon, okay?”

“I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Maneater

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe meets the Bengals’ new female athletic trainer and finds her infatuating, but other guys on the team warn him of her and her reputation.

(Part one to - part 2, part 3)

Warnings: None

Pairing: Joe Burrow x *athletic trainer* reader

Imagine Universe: Misc.

————————————————————————-

August 9, 2022

“Yo, do you know what this last-minute meeting is ‘bout?” - Ja’Marr

“There's a meeting?” - Joe

I was just sitting at my locker after practice when Ja’Marr came striding up to me.

“Something about a new trainer, I heard.” - Sam

“Oh yeah?” - Joe

“Heard its a female.” - Tee yelled from around the corner

“Why do all of you people eavesdrop?” - Joe shook his head with a laugh.

——

“Okay, settle down everyone!” - Zac

At once. the entire meeting room went silent at the sound of our head coach's voice.

The franchise owner, Mike Brown, was standing next to him, seemingly about to announce something of his own.

“Mike you can take it from here.” - Zac

The older man gave Zac a nod and stood closer to the middle of the floor.

“Thanks for all of you coming together at such short notice, but I'd like to introduce you to our newest hire. She's an astounding athletic trainer and is here to keep you guys healthy as well as get the injured healthy. y/n, would you please step out?” - Mike

The new athletic trainer, y/n, stepped out, and she was one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever laid eyes on.

“Woah.” - someone mumbled

“Hey guys, I'm super excited to be working with the Bengals this season! I grew up in Cincinnati as a Bengals fan, so this is a full-circle moment for me! I'll be in my office if you have any questions you'd like me to answer.” - you smiled

When everyone left the meeting room, there was a bustle in the locker room, with almost every player talking about y/n’s striking beauty.

Unlike everyone else, though, instead of talking about her, I went to her office to talk to her.

Firmly, I knocked on her office door.

“Come in!” - you

After taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

She sent a warm smile my way, and I sent one back.

“Hi, Mr. Burrow! Do you have a question, or is there anything I can help you with?” - you

“No, actually. I just wanted to welcome you to the organization.” - Joe

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Burrow.” - you smiled

“Just call me Joe.” - Joe smiled

“Will do.” - you grinned

Just as I was about to reply, Nick Cosgray, the director of rehabilitation, opened the door.

His eyes darted to me, then to y/n.

“Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?” - Nick

“No, I was just leaving.” - Joe

I stood up and reached to shake y/n’s hand.

“It was nice meeting you.” - Joe

“Vice-versa. I look forward to working with you in the near future.” - you

After nodding, I exited the office.

Ja’Marr was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed while shaking his head.

“What?” - Joe

“You just flashed her with your blue eyes and charm, huh?” - Ja’Marr

“Maybe.” - Joe shrugged with a sly grin

——

August 10, 2022

I was getting lunch in the cafeteria today, scooting my tray around and picking through all of the healthy options.

One last banana, thank god.

As I reached for it, another hand brushed mine, and I pulled my hand back.

When I looked at the person next to me, my stomach fluttered when I saw it was y/n.

“Oh, shit, sorry. You can have it.” - Joe

“Nah, it's okay. I might have one in my car.” - you

“Ew, car banana in the summer? Absolutely not.” - Joe

She laughed and I couldn't help but grin at the way her nose scrunched up.

“I'm not taking a banana from QB1.” - you

“And I'm not taking a banana from the new girl, either.” - Joe

“How about we split it.” - you

“Great idea.” - Joe winked

y/n grabbed the banana and nodded her head to tell me to follow her.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Sam at our usual table, giving me a confused face as I walked in the opposite direction.

She sat her tray down on the table and unpeeled the banana, y/n broke it in half, and placed one piece on my tray.

“Pleasure doing business with ya.” - you

“You too. Are you gonna sit over here by yourself?” - Joe

“No, I'm going back to my office.” - you

“Oh okay. If you ever want to, you can come sit with me, Sam, and Trey.” - Joe

“Thank you for the offer. Have a good lunch, Joe.” - you

That was the first time she’d ever said my name, and it rolled off of her tongue perfectly.

“You too, y/n.” - Joe

She nodded with a smile and walked away. I watched her till she disappeared around the corner and then walked over to my table.

Sam and Trey were giving me weird looks when I sat down, along with Ja’Marr and Tee at the table beside us.

“What?” - Joe furrowed his brows

“The hell was that?” - Sam

“What are you talking about?” - Joe

“You don't share, especially not your fuckin’ food.” - Ja’Marr

Rolling my eyes, I tried to come up with a feasible excuse.

“We reached for it at the same time, only fair to split it.” - Joe

“Joe, dude, I know she's pretty, but have you heard about her?” - Sam

“Heard what?” - Joe

“She's been a trainer for like five other teams. Before she leaves the team, there's always this article saying she hooked up with a player. After she left the Niners, Nick confirmed that she got with the player she was rumored to get with. She's weird about it too, like explicitly telling the guy he’ll never be more than a one-night stand before getting with him. Usually, she's gone in the morning and has filed her two weeks' notice with the team.” - Sam

“What the fuck? Why do teams keep hiring her then?” - Joe

“She's good at what she does, athletic training-wise. But, really, dude, the woman's wild.” - Sam

“Watch out, boy, she’ll chew you up.” - Ja’Marr

“For real, she's a total maneater.” - Sam

————————————————————————-

Authors note: This fic came from my very own brain! 😆

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[languajix]

Emoji Dress-up! (TMNT Fandom Family Reunion Fashion Show event!)

Let's dress up this turtle emoji for the Fandom Family Reunion fashion show, shall we?

This is a turtle emoji! We're gonna call him Carl. Because he looks like a Carl, doesn't he? (I got him from HERE)

Carl feels like playing dress-up in honor of fashion week. What will Carl decide to wear as he struts his stuff down the runway?

And to start us all off, Carl's coming in hot dressed as a charred but totally adorable Smokey from the Sparky AU by @belleyellsaboutturtles! With a bonus Sparky, who seems to really dislike clothes. (Cabin 15)

Time for Carl to turn that smile upside down as he changes into the look of the incredibly cool Foot Captain from @v-albion's True Colors AU! And Carl strikes an unamused pose! (cabin 14)

Speaking of cool, Carl straps on some Citadel fashion as Mikhail from @chessman-protocol's Covert AU! (Cabin 14)

Carl's a big fan of sunglasses, so he makes sure to flash them as he walks down the runway as @karonkar and @owliedoesnothing's Fear's Embrace OC Marco in his usual apocalyptic style! (Cabin 13/Cabin 14 Counselor)

Carl really enjoys dressing up as @twignotstick's character Mikey/Scout! That smile charms us all. (Cabin 14)

And now our turtle emoji friend is making another drastic color choice, as he changes into It's A Complicated Equation Donnie by @leilanising! Look at that tail! (cabin 14)

After a quick jump into the shower to wash off that blue, Carl is back to take the fashion world by storm as the cheery Mikey from @justalittleobsessed's Move Along AU! Check out his stylish mask tails. What a fashion statement! :D (Cabin 15)

@banana-pancake5's Donnie has been through a lot in the Letter From My Future Self AU, but he keeps moving forward! Carl strikes a pose. (Cabin 11)

Fashion goes metaphysical as Carl takes a spin as the adorably tragic Leo (a.k.a. Spirit) from @wandering-ghost's Ghost of the Past AU! (Cabin 14)

Carl puts on some pink for @icequeenabby (and @bluefeather-tmnt)'s super cool OC Billie Hamato from Too Many Turtles! (cabin 9)

Time for Carl to take a walk on the wild side as Donju from the Good Genes, Thick Hides AU, the brainchild of cadoodledoodleydoo and languajix on the blog @clawsandpaws-creativearchive! (cabin 15)

Carl is rocking it as the awesome and very stylish Donnie from Starry TMNT by @just-another-tired-gay-artist! (Cabin 14)

@itzzaira's 2018 Mikey has been through a lot, so Carl bandages up his arms for this one, wishing Mikey good luck with healing up! (Cabin 10)

And last but not least, Carl makes another apocalyptic fashion choice as he takes on Mike from my Hold Every Memory AU! (An AU of Ghost in the Shell by Amevello Blue, which, as I always say, please check out if you haven't read it! Our buddy Carl is almost as big a fan as I am.) (Cabin 14, myself)

And with that, Carl changes back into his normal outfit to take a bow!

(And for anyone with an AU/OC character in here, enjoy your emojis! Use them wherever you'd like - discord, texting, etc! Have fun! If you would like anything tweaked let me know; I've kept all the original files and it's no problem at all to correct anything.)

@tmnt-fandom-family-reunion all cabins mentioned under the emojis, as well as in the tags below.

[incorrectbatfam]

Batfam’s Father’s Day plans

(also on Ao3)

"Morning, Bruce."

The way Stephanie says that instantly makes him look up. She traces her socked toe on the right angles of the tile, looking down. 

"Morning, Steph." Bruce puts his coffee down. "Something wrong?"

"Huh?" She perks up in realization. "No, not at all. I actually just have something for you. I stopped by Walgreens on patrol last night 'cause I ran out of antiseptic, and I saw something that reminded me of you." 

She hands him a dark blue greeting card with a cartoon fruit bat and Comic Sans text reading: You drive me batty, but I love you.

"Get it? 'Cause it's a bat, and you're the Batman." She scratches the back of her neck. "Not trying to make it weird or anything, you're just a cool mentor and whatnot. But also, it's nice to have someone who you can mess around with. My old man was always talking business even when he was at home—you kinda do that too, but in a good way 'cause anything's better than being a D-list villain, y'know. Plus, unlike him, you're working on striking a balance. Sometimes you even have a sense of humor." She chuckles awkwardly. "Anyway, I'm going on a jog. Text me if you need anything." 

Before he processes her rambling, she grabs a granola bar and races out the door. He opens the card and out falls out a handful of purple confetti plus an ever-rare two-dollar bill. Smiling, he brushes the confetti up and puts it in his shirt pocket. 

Bruce checks his watch. Everyone else is already out, except for Cass. She was out late last night on that Clayface mission, but even she should be up by this time. He fixes her a bowl of cereal with the package instructions and brings it upstairs. 

"Cass?" He knocks. "Are you up yet? It's past 9:30."

He hears the duvet crunch like a candy wrapper as she shuffles around. A moment later, the door swings open as a messy-haired Cass yawns. 

"I'll leave this up here for you," he says, putting the bowl on the dresser. "Any big plans today?"

She shakes her head. "Write reports. And relax."

"Well, you deserve a break. Great job on the stakeout, Princess." He plants a quick kiss on her forehead. 

"Love," she says.

"Huh?"

"Favorite thing you do. Love."

He laughs softly. "I try. Now go get dressed."

The rest of the day goes by like any other. Despite it being Sunday, he still has a meeting scheduled with some Singaporean investors on their timezone. By eleven, he and some other executives are gathered around the long conference table as the video call drones on, and it's not until over an hour later that they're finally let out. Bruce loosens his tie and Tim does the same, sighing in relief and exhaustion. 

Bruce asks, "Did you have lunch yet?"

"Oh, I forgot that's a thing," Tim says, stretching. "Hey, remember that ice cream place on 32nd?"

"You want ice cream for lunch?"

"I'd break your no killing rule for their M&M cookie sundae, okay?" he says. "Besides, remember when you took my friends and I there even though we massively bombed our first off-world fight? I might still be a massive perfectionist but that made me get a little more comfortable with failing. Anyway, I thought it'd be cool to stroll down memory lane—and have junk food as a meal without Alfred knowing. Unless you're busy, which I totally get."

"Not at all," Bruce replies, putting an arm around Tim's shoulders. "Duke and Damian will be at the arcade all day and I don't have any urgent side business." 

And so, instead of calling Alfred for a ride, they journey through the Gotham subways with Tim's camera capturing the Grammy-worthy saga of a billionaire CEO battling a common turnstyle. They get a few side-glances in the sparse train car, but besides a teenager asking for Tim's autograph, the civilians leave them alone. Pretty soon, they're at a 1950s-themed ice cream parlor, where the waitress slides their orders down the long chromium bar. 

"Why do they call it a banana split?" Bruce asks, grabbing the cocoa powder shaker. 

Tim pauses mid-bite of his cookie. "...Because they split the banana in half?"

"Really?"

He moves the whipped cream aside to reveal the cut banana in Bruce's dish. 

"How would it sound if I said I never noticed that?"

He smirks. "That's why I'm the brains of this operation."

"Indeed you are." Bruce ruffles his hair. "Though this head of yours could use some shampoo." 

"Will saying I love you get me a free pass out of it?"

"No." He laughs. "But I love you too, son."

Alfred catches on to their little dessert escapade and picks them up from the parlor, though not without commenting on the strawberry stain on Bruce's jacket. As Tim plugs his music into the car, Bruce takes the time to listen to the voicemails he got during their lunch break. 

"Hiya Bruce," Clark's voice plays. "I hope today's going swell for you. I just want you to know that I'm glad I can call you my pard'ner." Bruce snickers at the country twang.

Next is Diana. "Bruce, I apologize if I must keep this brief since I have a curator's convention today. However, I wish to tell you that you are an invaluable teammate and even more remarkable friend."

"Hey Batman, I gave you a shoutout to the Central City press for your help taking down Weather Wizard," Barry says. "Also, thanks for letting me borrow your communicator. I can always count on you to be overprepared. Have a good one!"

"Bats, tell your kid to quit taking my yogurt from the fridge." Ah, good old Hal. "Also, today's all about guys like you, so... yeah. I admit, you could be worse." 

Finally, there's one from Zatanna. "Afternoon, Bruce! I'd tell you in person if I wasn't caught up in Kahndaq, but I hope today is extra special for you. I know how much the birds mean to you, and I know they're gonna treat you well."

(There's also one from Ollie, but he's just asking if he can use the communicator after Barry. In the background, Dinah is is clearly ordering food.) 

After dropping Tim and Alfred home and switching to a more discreet vehicle, Bruce makes his way to pick two of his other kids up from the arcade. 

"Did you guys have fun?" Bruce asks as they climb in.

"We decimated every game," Damian says, "and won you the finest specimen as a trophy."

He plops a five-foot Snorlax into the front seat and buckles the seatbelt.

"This is for me?" Bruce asks. 

"Tt, who else would it be for?"

"I didn't win as many tickets," Duke says, "but I also got you a spider ring and a Chinese finger trap." He puts them in the cupholder.

"Why are you giving me all your prizes?"

"Again, who else would we give them to?" Damian asks.

Duke says, "I think what he means is that you do a lot for us, so this is a thanks from us."

As silly as it might seem, Bruce is genuinely touched. 

Pre-patrol dinner is a quiet affair, with Kate stopping by because she apparently forgot to go grocery shopping. She takes a fingerling potato off his plate. 

"Um, you're welcome?" he says. 

"Bruce, we're family. It's what we do." She takes a bite. 

He takes a piece of asparagus from her. "I wish all of us were here, though. Too bad Dick and Jason have that Penguin stakeout. Hopefully they're being safe."

"Even if things go wrong, they were taught by the best. You should trust them more." Selina gets up and places a peck on his cheek before going to get a drink. 

"I do," he mumbles into his meal. "It's the world I don't trust." 

As he puts on his cowl, he asks Barbara for an update on the evening. So far, Duke is handling a carjacking, the girls are preoccupied with a strip mall hostage situation, Damian is patrolling Metropolis with Jon, and Kate is kicking off her shift with a car chase against Two-Face. Tim and Selina are staying back to catch up on some overdue reports, but other than that, the cave is quiet. 

"Before you go," Barbara says, "my dad was cleaning out the attic and found something you might like."

From her bag, she pulls out a blue mug that says: World's Okayest Dad.

"My brother got it for him a long time ago, but... you know. It's all yours now, if you want it." 

He takes it, running his thumb along the words. 

"It suits you," she says before turning back to relay something to Stephanie. 

The route laid out for him tonight gives him the perfect opportunity to swing by and check on two of his boys. He lands on the rooftop silently, where Nightwing and Red Hood have already set up camp. Evidently, they don't notice him as they keep going with their conversation.

"Did you get dropped on your head as a baby?" Jason asks. "Sour cream and Greek yogurt are not the same thing."

"They totally are, change my mind." Dick glances through his binoculars. "No sign of Cobblepot yet."

A moment goes by as Jason not-so-covertly steals some of his brother's patrol snacks. 

"So how'd family therapy go yesterday?" Jason asks. "Did the old bat finally show an emotion?"

"It was pretty insightful, at least on my part." Dick lowers his binoculars. "I think I realized where Bruce's persistence comes from. It's annoying as hell, but I think that's how he maintains hope. And who knows, maybe it's his love language."

Jason scoffs. 

"I'm serious," he says. "I know none of us are stellar at this family thing, but we care about each other. You can't deny that. We just gotta... refine how we express it." 

"Count me out."

"Jaybird."

"Codenames, Dickhead."

Dick snickers. "You love us, admit it. All of us."

Jason mutters a string of curses under his breath before saying, "If you tell him, I'm filling your mattress with sour cream."

Bruce smiles and leaps to the next building. 

At the end of the night, Bruce finds Alfred brewing tea in the kitchen and takes the kettle from him. 

"I got this," he says. "Why don't you go relax in the living room? I think they added your favorite detective movie to Netflix." 

"This is a pleasant surprise." Alfred raises an eyebrow. "What brought it on?"

"It's Father's Day, of course," he replies, pouring the cups of tea. "You know you've always been a second dad to me."

"You made that clear with last year's breakfast surprise," Alfred says. "Care to join me?"

"Always," Bruce says. "By the way, do the kids seem different to you today?"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

diasomnia ice-cream parlor au doodles

[Referencing this post!]

Hello, yes, I’ve been thinking about the Diasomnia ice-cream parlor AU again 🍨🍦 I guess I must have been really hungry lately www

I see them as offering not just ice-cream, bur also variants like gelato, shaved ice, milkshakes, etc. (They can afford it with support from the Draconia royal family’s funds 😂) The focus here will be ice-cream though, just because that’s Malleus’s favorite.

Imagine walking in and not knowing what to order (there’s so much to choose from!), so you ask the staff to pick something for you… (Yes, I’ve thought about this way too much and now I’m going to shovel this at you—)

Malleus strikes me as a very traditional and old-fashioned guy, so I’d see him falling back on ol’ reliable. You can’t go wrong with a classic sugar cone and a healthy scoop on top!

He recommends mint chocolate chip because it adds an additional pleasant cooling sensation to the actual coldness of ice-cream. Malleus is fond of the flavor himself; it’s great for cooling down a mouth that’s hot from breathing flames!

You’re brave if you accept anything Lilia hands you… You ask him what this is (the ice-cream looks… discolored in some places, and there’s all this weird stuff jutting out from it; is that a piece of lettuce???). He just winks at you and calls it “Lilia-chan’s Super Cute ⭐️ Special”, featuring a bunch of “unique” flavors he created himself.

It comes served in a cup because it’s easier to eat it while walking that way. For Lilia, who is a well-seasoned traveler, foods that are able to be eaten on the go are a plus!

Silver picks out a waffle bowl (it resembles a sturdy bird’s nest) and encourages you to try a lot of different things. It’ll help you to gain an appreciation for the new and unfamiliar! With how wide the waffle bowl is and how many flavors and toppings are in there, this can be good for sharing with friends from all over.

The particular version featured in the doodle has three kinds of ice-cream, each one representing one of the three Good Fairies. A pink flavor, a blue flavor, and a green flavor—maybe rose or strawberry, blueberry or cotton candy, and pistachio? It’s a very naturey palate.

His animal friends have helped with the ingredients; there’s honey drizzled on top, as well as crushed nuts. Freshly picked berries and edible flowers garnish the bowl too—oh, and we can’t forget a generous chunk of honeycomb!

… I don’t know much about Kingdom Hearts, but I’ve heard that Silver resembles Riku from KH?? So maybe Silver can offer some sea salt ice-cream too as a throwback 😂

… Was anyone surprised by this? No? No.

Sebek chose a tall parfait glass for serving so that the dessert can be as tall as possible. It’s a matcha and ube soft serve, swirled high. The green is Diasomnia’s color, and the purple is meant to be the color of the underside of Malleus’s cape. (Sebek wanted to include black ice-cream to for the Draconia royal color, but couldn’t find a good flavor.)

Art isn’t his forte, but Sebek did his best to “recreate the imposing, elegant image of wakasama” in his dessert. The cherry on top, flanked by two conical chocolate pieces, are meant to be Malleus and his horns. The wafer poking out is supposed to “enhance the young master’s presence”. All the other things are extra details in an effort to make the ice-cream larger than life: candied fruit peels arranged in a line (to resemble the spines on a dragon’s tail), mochi balls (“magestones”) piled to one side, and a chocolate biscuit stick + wafer that, together, look like Malleus’s staff.

Sebek tried really hard! … He will aggressively try to sell you on this item.

If you’re really hungry or with a large group, why not go for the Diasomnia Family Fundae? It’s their take on a sundae, served in a glass boat. There’s a whole banana, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and three maraschino cherries! The bramble is made of dark chocolate.

Each student is represented by one scoop and a little candy or chocolate that helps to characterize the boy (horns, bat wings, lightning bolt, or sword). Sebek is a lemon-like sherbet, befitting of his loud, in-your-face personality. Lilia is a bright red berry flavor (strawberries, cherries, cranberries, etc.), like his favorite red juices, deep and complex. Silver is vanilla bean, pure, simple, and earnest. (He could also be a subtle lavender flavor, since that's a flower known to ease you into sleep.) And Malleus… well, that scoop is a pitch black, but the flavor is something you can’t quite place your tongue on. It’s a mystery, just like he is! (Maybe the shop changes the flavor every now and again. They can run a promo where if you guess the right flavor combo for that particular week’s Malleus scoop, they give you a discount or a free cone.)

A lot of chocolate sauce is dripping down from the Malleus scoop; this is because the sauce is supposed to be his “blot”. The bottom three scoops—Lilia, Sebek, and Silver—are blanketed by the chocolate thorns as a reference to how those three were sentenced to sleep.

[fredwkong]

1000: Banana

As the clock strikes midnight, Eric grabs the banana card, letting the other two cards drop. As they fall, they dissolve into dust, creating a small pile of ashes on the floor. Meanwhile, the banana card starts to glow in Eric’s hand. It becomes searing hot, and Eric shields his eyes, cursing. Then, in a flash, it too vanishes.

Blinking his eyes against the afterimages, Eric looks around his room. The box of cards has sealed itself once more. Nothing else seems out of the ordinary, though Eric finds himself feeling a bit warm. He rubs his fingers where they were scorched by the card. They’re still tingling.

Eric drifts through his nighttime routine, washing his face and brushing his teeth in a daze. Could it all have been a trick? No, it’s far too convincing. Eric looks at his pale, scared face in the cracked mirror. “Magic is real,” he tells himself, his voice shaking.

Getting into bed, Eric is sure he’ll be tossing and turning all night, but sudden exhaustion takes him, and he drifts off without any trouble at all.

The next morning, Eric wakes up feeling horny. It’s not such an unusual feeling for him, as a normal 18-year-old boy, but Eric finds himself palming himself through his loose boxers with unusual intensity. His dick seems especially needy for attention.

Needy. The word bounces around in Eric’s head as he strokes himself to full hardness. Yeah, he’s got a needy cock. It’s not just that he has a normal libido, his cock has needs. It needs his hand on it. It needs to thrust, rut, and cum. Eric rolls over onto his belly and starts thrusting into his hand. In seconds, he cums with a groan, leaving a few drops of pearly semen on his sheets. He’s always had pretty light loads.

It’s a pretty uneventful Sunday. It’s warm, so Eric reasons he may as well not get dressed. He sits around in his dorm, playing some video games. He needs to go grocery shopping, but he figures that he can just go tomorrow. After last night, he needs a break.

Throughout the day, Eric feels a slowly growing awareness of his dick. Usually, it’s not much of a problem for him. He’s never been the kind of guy who has to masturbate more than a few times a week. He’s never even managed to get close enough to someone to know if he’s more of a top or a bottom. Sex has simply not been much of a concern when he isn’t even out to anyone.

But suddenly, his dick is grabbing his attention. It just seems to… rub against him, somehow. The fabric of his boxers is stimulating it. How strange.

At the next save point, Eric sticks his hand into his undies. He probably just has to adjust himself. As soon as he touches himself, he groans, loud. His cock feels so good. But he really wants to beat this next boss. He tucks his hardening cock down into the leg of his boxers and withdraws his hand with one last lingering touch of the head. As he does, he feels a slick wetness on his fingers. Did he cum again? No, the liquid is clear.

On impulse, Eric sniffs his hand. The smell is rich, tangy, a little bit bitter. Back in his sex ed, he remembers reading about precum. He’s never produced enough to notice before.

Except for his strangely insistent dick, Eric’s evening goes pretty normally. He finishes up his game and gets ready for bed. As he lies down, he can’t resist fishing his cock out. He rolls over onto his belly and thrusts into his hand once again. There’s a strange smoothness to the motion of his hand up and down his length now, like he has some extra skin. Eric’s about to pull himself up and look when his orgasm suddenly hits him. Without even getting up to wipe off his sheets, Eric falls asleep on top of the dribble of slick cum.

Monday morning is much the same as Sunday. Eric cums into his hand, rutting against his sheets. This time, he puts a pillow down under him. Somehow, this needy cock of his isn’t satisfied. It wants something more. He can’t ignore it as he showers and gets dressed. Even tucked into his jeans as he walks around the grocery store, Eric can’t stop paying attention to his cock. Every time he passes a man, it jumps, sometimes making him moan quietly.

On Tuesday, Eric has a summer class. His cock is so insistent in the morning that he cums twice before walking out the door, each less satisfying than the last. His whole class, Eric rocks forward and back, feeling the occasional drip of precum leak into his boxers as he stimulates himself with his skinny thighs. By the end of class, he’s absorbed nothing, but his boxers have absorbed so much they feel slick as he walks.

Eric resists jerking off as soon as he’s back in his room. He knows it won’t be satisfying anyway. He rips off his jeans and boxers. “What do you want?” he asks his dick.

The head is slick and shiny with precum. It seems to be gathering up under the flap of skin that’s loosened from just below the frenulum. Do guys just grow back their foreskins? As his cock bounces in time with his thundering heart, Eric looks down and suddenly has the mental image of his needy cock jackhammering a thick ass, or facefucking some guy’s throat.

Even as he imagines it, Eric feels the orgasm building. Just the thought of its needs being met has his cock about to blow. “N-no,” Eric gasps, attempting to dispel the images, but then his mind fills with the image of having one boy sucking his cockhead while another mouths at his balls. With an uncontrollable moan, Eric shoots a jet of cum out onto the floor, his knees buckling as his cock continues to unload.

On Wednesday morning, Eric wakes up with a tacky pool of mixed precum and cum on his slender belly, dripping onto the sheets on either side. He must have cum at least twice in his sleep, but his cock is still hard, the foreskin pulled back from the shiny purple head, a steady stream of precum leaking down his shaft.

Eric stares down at his cock, then looks towards the box of cards, still sitting innocently on his desk. “I can’t do this,” he tells the box flatly. “I can’t fucking do this. What am I supposed to do? Get a personality transplant?”

His fingers, where he touched the banana card, tingle for an instant.

As he wipes up the gooey puddle from his belly and groin, Eric has a sudden thought. What would be so bad about just… enjoying this? Most guys would be happy to suddenly have a leaky uncut cock with a need to fuck. He should just enjoy it while it lasts.

“Fucking weird,” he mutters to himself, rolling his eyes and pulling on a pair of boxers.

It’s a few days early, but Eric’s soaked through all his underwear and has to do laundry. He sits in the laundry room, resolved to go through the lecture he couldn't pay attention to yesterday. As the boxers tumble in the sudsy water, the precum stains refuse to come out, sinking deeper into the fabric. By the end of the spin cycle, Eric’s clothes have begun to transform, the colours lightening and legs shortening on all of his baggy, body-hiding clothes.

Distracted by his lecture and the growing sensation of his cock swinging around in his boxers half-hard, Eric doesn’t notice as he transfers the load over to the dryer. As the clothes tumble, the changes become more apparent. The baked-in precum lets off a funky stench, making Eric’s head spin as all of his boxers transform into briefs, his pants into shorts. The sleeves slice neatly off all his T-shirts and vanish.

“Are these my clothes?” Eric mutters to himself as he unloads the dryer. He gives one of the briefs a sniff, filling his nose with the scent of his own pre. “Damn, yeah,” he chuckles, pulling out the rest. He can’t help but think that he should be kinda disgusted by that, right? But no, it’s actually pretty hot that his pre and cum are so powerful they can’t be washed out.

The rest of the day is similarly weird. Eric keeps having these weird thoughts, like he has two personalities in him. One is painfully shy and closeted, while the other is confident and a bit cocky. With every dribble of precum from his thick uncut cock, Eric can feel the shy personality being subsumed into this more confident man.

The next morning, Eric’s woken up by his last orgasm of the night, pumping several shots of cum right up onto his neck. God, he needs to figure out how to satiate this needy cock of his. Before he’s gotten out of bed, he’s already unloaded again, thrusting down into the towel he needs to keep on his bed all the time.

Instead of paying attention to his Thursday lecture, Eric downloads Grindr and uploads a selfie of his torso in bed this morning, covered in a layer of pearlescent cum. “Big shooter, in need of hole,” he writes as his bio. He doesn’t have any shame left, he needs to unload inside of a man. He can’t help but think that the cards heard his plea yesterday, and tore down some of his inhibitions.

Even so, that evening Eric finds himself unable to message back to any of the guys who message him. Every new hole pic or open mouth he receives makes him shrink deeper into his old shyness, even as his cock pisses precum at the sight of all these ready holes. Shuddering through his nth orgasm, he finally falls asleep.

By Friday morning, Eric is basically caught in a continuous, low-grade orgasm. His whole mind is suffused by need, and he snatches up his phone and messages the nearest person with “bottom” in their profile, probably someone in his dorm. “U up?”

The other guy responds immediately. “Damn, can I suck u?”

Eric groans as the thought sends a jet of cum out of his cock. He sends the guy his room number and opens his door at the knock a few minutes later.

The guy is cute, a little taller than Eric, tan with a cute little belly. “Holy shit,” he says, gaping at Eric’s continual leaking and the puddles of cum all over the floor.

“Get in here,” Eric growls, dragging the guy inside to slam the door shut. He shoves the guy down to his knees and rams his cock into his mouth.

It’s like a circuit closes. For the first time in two days, Eric can think as spurts of cum drain down the guy’s throat. He cums for what feels like minutes, until finally the need subsides and he pulls out, his cock softening at last.

The guy wipes at a trail of cum that leaked out of his mouth and licks it up. “So, hi, I’m Blair,” he says.

Suddenly, Eric is laughing. He can’t seem to stop. He drops to his knees in front of Blair and grins helplessly at him while continuing to laugh.

“Uh…”

“Sorry,” Eric says finally, getting himself back under control. “That was… That was my first time.”

“Damn.” Blair looks down at Eric’s soft cock, a bead of pre already forming at the tip of the foreskin. “Can I get be your second time too? Like, after lunchtime, maybe, because I think you filled me right up."

The two boys laugh together. “Uh, maybe. My cock is like, needy—“

Blair is cute and funny, and Eric finds him easy to talk to, even if their introduction was Eric unloading five men’s worth of cum into Blair’s belly. Eric finds himself feeling confident, even a little sexy, as they spend the day together. When they walk together to the dining hall for dinner, Eric finds his cock filled with a new need, and he lowers his shorts for a moment. A cock like his deserves to be seen, to show off the pre stain on his briefs.

Saturday, Eric feels almost normal. Blair gives him a real blowjob in the morning, though Eric ends up facefucking him a bit. His cock just needs to thrust. Then they play video games together between Blair draining Eric's balls until Blair heads back to his own room near midnight.

As he closes the door behind Blair, Eric remembers what happened last Saturday. He turns back to his desk to see the box of cards sitting open. Well, having a hyperactive dick hasn’t been so bad, now that he’s figured it out. He just has to solve whatever new problem these cards are gonna throw at him.

Eric draws his cards

On the first card is a drawing of a dog. It's one of the stereotypically aggressive breeds, a pit bull, standing in a defensive posture with its teeth bared. The wolf-like attitude and masculine lines of its body makes Eric think of cocky, 'manly' guys who always jump to their own defense and snap at anyone who looks at them funny.

On the second card, the art shows a cat. The cat is sitting with its back to the viewer, looking over one shoulder as if Eric isn't worth its time. Just like those independent, self-assured guys who float above everything in their lives, Eric realises. The cat looks like it marches to its own beat and doesn't bother with other people.

On the third card, there's a large, square-headed animal surrounded by smaller versions of itself. It's a capybara, Eric remembers. It looks so relaxed, chilling with its friends. Somehow, the art gives off a happy, carefree vibe. Sure, the capybara doesn't look like it spends much time thinking, but it clearly has a lot of friends and just chills all day.

Or vote here on strawpoll: https://strawpoll.com/e7ZJG4Nzdy3

See Eric's whole journey with the 1000 cards here.

Did your pick not win the vote? Send me an ask telling me what card Eric should have picked to see what could have happened.

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 24

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | AO3

Rating: mature

-----

The next morning, he and Robin drape themselves over a pair of pool chairs to get their lounge on while Steve works on getting the pool in good enough shape for their upcoming party.

It means watching Steve in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of cut off shorts, so Eddie's very on board.

Robin scoffs next to him. "I am so glad you got your shit together so I don't have to tiptoe around you drooling right now."

"I'm not drooling!" Eddie insists, though he does wipe his hand over his mouth just to check.

No drool.

"Metaphorically," Robin clarifies, grinning at him. "By all means, oogle away. Just know Steve's probably showing off a little on purpose."

Eddie squints at him, and sure enough - there's probably no need for Steve to be lifting things that often.

"I hate that it's working," Eddie grumbles.

"Of course it's working." Robin rolls her eyes.

Right, of course it is. Eddie's always known that Steve was very attractive - it used to irritate the hell out of him, that he was susceptible to the same allure as the rest of the masses of Hawkins High. The fact that he thought Steve was a douche used to counter it, but, well.

Now he's pretty much in love with the guy.

Eddie leans forward a little, fiddling with some blades of grass by his chair. "Steve's, uh. It's true, right, that he's had a lot of sex with a lot of girls?"

Robin nods. "It's true. He was in a slump when I first met him, but before - well, before you, he was complaining about all his meaningless relationships that were just about sex when he wanted a real connection."

That's… Eddie doesn't know exactly what that is, actually, or how he feels about it. He thinks it should be weird, talking about this when they're both dating Steve, but - it doesn't feel weird, not really. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Does it bother me that he's been with more girls than I can count before I even got my first kiss? Not really. I mean, sure, I guess a little, in an ugh why is it so easy for him and so hard for me, but, you know. We both had our different ways of finding our other soulmate. Apparently neither of them were successful, since the Upside Down brought you to Steve, and I'm still striking out." She pauses, then adds, "Plus he's like really good at eating girls out, so I'm not going to complain about getting to benefit from him demonstrating his technique."

He takes it back, it's weird and uncomfortable and that was way too much information about their sex life.

Whatever face he's making gets her to laugh at him, eyes crinkling.

"Don't worry, it probably translates over decently well. Besides, I've seen him practically deep throat a banana so you're probably good. Oh, has he gotten to do that thing with his tongue yet?"

Eddie squeaks. He's pretty sure his face is bright red, considering how much it's burning, and Robin's laughter turns into a cackle.

Steve overhears the laughter and turns towards them, hip cocked as he squints at them.

"What's so funny?" he calls.

"Just asking Eddie if he's gotten to experience your tongue skills yet!" she calls back.

"Robin!" Steve yelps, dropping the pool net to come over to them.

"What?" she asks. "Weren't you the one who was whining at me about how you wanted to choke on his dick and then eat him out until he cried?"

The blood that had been flooding his cheeks immediately rushes south, and Eddie has to lean over to adjust his pants and try to make that less obvious.

Yes, please, sign him up for all of that.

"In confidence! I told you that in confidence!" Steve sputters.

Eddie leans back, tipping his head up at Steve with a slow smirk. "I'm feeling a little hurt, here, Harrington, how come I haven't gotten a fruit demonstration?"

Steve gapes at him for a moment, just long enough for Eddie to start to regain his footing.

Then Steve's eyes narrow.

"If I was demonstrating for you, Munson, it wouldn't be on fruit," he replies.

Steve turns his back on them and returns to the pool, leaving Eddie to make a protesting noise - that is not a whine, no matter how much he can read that in Robin's eyes while she laughs at him.

"Do I need to shove you in the pool to cool you off?" she teases.

"Shut up," he mutters, adjusting himself again.

Then he tips his head back and closes his eyes, because if he looks at Steve again in the next fifteen minutes or so, he might need to take Robin up on that.

—

They eat lunch all jammed together on the couch, plates balanced on their laps. Steve's eating with his left hand, because his right hand is holding Eddie's left. Their fingers are laced together, and Steve refuses to let go, and Eddie's pretty sure his cheeks are flushed red, but he's really not going to complain about it.

There's a little bit of sauce on the corner of Steve's lip, and ridiculously, it makes Eddie want to lean in to lick it off.

Fuck, he really wants to kiss him. Is he allowed to kiss him, is that weird? Steve and Robin haven't kissed in front of him, but Eddie kind of figures that's because they knew he had hang ups about the sharing thing.

Ugh, if he wants kissing Steve when they're like this to be on the table, it's probably going to be on him to talk about it.

Eddie clears his throat. "Hey, uh," he starts, but has no idea where to go after that.

Robin makes a little encouraging noise.

"I appreciate you guys holding back on the PDA around me while I figured all this out, but you don't have to anymore," he says.

Steve's eyebrows raise. He looks down, where Robin's toes are shoved under his thigh and he'd been in the middle of eating the olives off of her plate. "I hate to break it to you, Eds, but we haven't been holding back all that much."

"Well, yeah, not for that, but-" Eddie pauses, switching to come at this from another angle. "Not a lot of people know about me. And I'm guessing - not a lot know about Steve?"

Steve nods when Eddie looks at him for confirmation. "Just Robin and you, and Max and Lucas."

Eddie smiles a little. "Same, but Uncle Wayne knows about me."

"Just you and Steve, Max and Lucas for me," Robin adds, which -

Eddie hadn't known that, actually, but it makes him smile brightly at her. It makes it even better, knowing that Robin's in the same boat as him and Steve - that she gets it. "You're the only one who knows about me and Steve, and me and Steve. I don't know how you feel about telling the others who know?"

Steve considers that. "I feel okay," he says finally. "But if we tell Lucas and Max, we have to tell the rest of the party. It's not fair to have them keep that secret."

Eddie doesn't disagree, but - "Table that for now, then. So yeah, just you. And I'd really, really like to just kiss Steve without thinking about it when it's just the three of us, so it'd be really shitty of me if I told you not to."

There's a moment of silence as Robin and Steve look at each other with near identical expressions of confusion.

"Eddie," Robin says after a moment. "I like girls."

Eddie frowns. He thought they just covered that. "Yeah?"

"Only girls," she clarifies.

What.

"But Steve-" he starts.

"Is not a girl," Robin finishes.

"Definitely not a girl," Steve adds.

"Wait, so you - so you're not -" Eddie stammers.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Oh my God, Eddie, have you thought we were dating this whole time?" Robin shrieks.

"Yes! Of course I did! Look at you!" Eddie gestures at them.

"You said you told him!" Steve hisses at Robin.

"I did!" Robin protests.

"I think I would have remembered that!" Eddie counters.

"We were sitting in the kitchen! I told you that Steve has two soulmates, a platonic," she gestures at herself, the motion just as exaggerated as the word. "And a romantic!" She gestures at Eddie this time.

Eddie closes his eyes, fights the urge to just keep repeating Jesus Christ, and opens them again. "Buckley. I wasn't looking at you while we were talking."

"You weren't - well that's just rude, Munson! What were you so busy staring at that you couldn't pay attention to me in the very important discussion we were having?" Robin demands.

Eddie's eyes cut to Steve.

Her gaze must follow his, because she groans. "Of course you were looking at Steve. See, look at that, another person ignoring me because they're obsessed with you."

Eddie squawks. "I wasn't obsessed with-"

His jaw snaps shut as he realizes that might not be a lie.

Shit.

Steve grins at him, looking just a little bit too smug. "It's okay," he says. "I'm kind of obsessed with you, too."

Robin groans, face planting onto Steve's shoulder. "How did we miss this?"

"I thought we were being so mature," Steve agrees. "So open and communicative."

"In my defense, you two did shower together," Eddie points out.

"Not like that!" Robin says.

"How do you shower together but not like that?" Eddie demands.

Steve shrugs. "The same way you wash someone's hair but not like that?"

Eddie makes a face at him. "Yeah, that doesn't count, I wanted to jump you the whole time."

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it again. "Yeah, okay, me too," he admits. "You kept making these little sounds, I just-"

Eddie waggles his eyebrows. "Keep going, Stevie, you just what?"

"Get sidetracked later," Robin cuts in. "The point is - technically, Steve showered while I was brushing my teeth, and I showered while he was doing his hair care routine. We're soulmates, it's not like it matters what we see."

"But - there was giggling, and smacking, and - other noises," Eddie protests, but it's a weak one now.

Steve shrugs. "My back was all fucked up, man, you know that. Rob was helping me with the bandages."

"And Steve was doing his stupid shower characters," Robin adds, rolling her eyes. "He makes himself a dumb beard out of shaving cream or a stupid hairstyle out of shampoo and does terrible voices, and it's awful and I don't hate it at all."

Eddie - Eddie can imagine that perfectly, actually, and fuck, something so stupid shouldn't make him want so badly, but there it is.

"Stop," he whines. "I'm already in love with you, stop making it worse."

Both Steve and Robin freeze, but it still takes him a moment to realize what he just said.

Oh shit.

Eddie swallows, building up his courage for a moment before he sneaks a look at Steve.

Steve's looking back, just a little bit awestruck. "You love me?"

Eddie can't pull his hand free to fidget with his wrist brace, so he plays with Steve's fingers instead. "Well, yeah. I kind of thought that was obvious."

Then again, apparently some things all three of them thought were obvious were very much not obvious, and he grimaces.

"Yeah," he says. "I really do."

Robin kicks Steve in the thigh, leaning over and snatching their plates out of their laps. "Upstairs, now," she informs them. "I know that look, Steve, and if you're going to make out with him you're not doing it sitting next to me on the couch."

"Upstairs?" Steve asks, and who the hell is Eddie to say no to that?

"Just remember you're supposed to pick Dustin up for patrol in half an hour!" Robin yells up after them. "And I will not be stalling if he walkies asking what's taking you so long!"

"Guess we shouldn't waste any time." Eddie turns to Steve with a smirk, one eyebrow raised, only to find himself pinned to the wall in the upstairs hallway.

Steve crowds in against him, kissing him in short little bursts, like he keeps trying to pull back to say something but can't make himself stop for long.

Eddie doesn't make it easy for him to pull away, chasing him every time he does to kiss him again. He drags his teeth along Steve's bottom lip the next time he pulls back, but this time, Steve actually does stop long enough to speak.

"I love you, too," he pants out against Eddie's lips, the words muffled by how close they are together.

And Eddie - yeah, part of him had known. Like he told Uncle Wayne, it was obvious that Steve cared about him, and it was just as obvious that Steve was really into him.

But mostly knowing about it and hearing it confirmed are two different things, and Eddie surges forward to kiss him again.

Steve presses him back against the wall, one thigh wedged between Eddie's legs - still in those cut off shorts, and if Eddie could bring himself to break the kiss long enough to look down, he's pretty sure he'd get more than a flash of hairy skin. Eddie groans, rolling his hips up so he can at least grind against his thigh.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, before his tongue slides into his mouth at the same time his thigh presses up and up, giving Eddie more friction to rut against.

Which he immediately takes advantage of, grabbing Steve's ass with both hands and holding on as they rock together.

"Wanna make you feel good," Steve says, dropping little biting kisses along the line of Eddie's jaw. "Want you to tell me everything you like."

Eddie huffs out a shaky little laugh. "I, uh. I've never done this before, Stevie."

Steve tips his head back to look at him, brows furrowed for a moment before he seems to get that Eddie means, like, ever.

Despite the fact that he's mostly sure Steve isn't going to make fun of him, his stomach still drops when Steve groans and drops his head down into Eddie's shoulder.

"Steve?" Eddie asks.

"We gotta stop," Steve replies, muffled. "We've only got like twenty minutes left now, and that's really not enough for everything I want to do with you."

Eddie's dick throbs where it's still pressed against Steve's thigh. "It's enough for something, though, come on."

Steve pulls back to look at him. "Eds, your first time is not going to be a quickie in our hallway with Robin downstairs and Dustin waiting on me."

Eddie considers that, then rolls his hips up again, grinning smugly when it makes Steve inhale sharply. "Yeah, I'm pretty okay with that for my first mutual orgasm experience."

Steve makes a face at him, the impact of which is a little ruined by his slightly glazed eyes. "I'm not."

Eddie grunts. "I'm not a girl," he manages to growl out.

Steve looks down between them, where Eddie's still very hard and very pressed into him. "I noticed."

"Then don't treat me like some delicate little virgin," Eddie snaps.

Steve huffs. "It's not like that, it's - fine, why did you tell me, then?"

"What?" Eddie asks, thrown.

"If it's not a big deal, why did you say anything?"

"I… I don't know," Eddie admits. "I just - thought you should be aware, I guess, in case you were expecting something else."

Someone who knew what they were doing.

"Eds," Steve breathes out, tipping his head in to kiss him again. "I'm not expecting anything but you, I promise. Just you, that's all I want."

"That's all?" Eddie asks, and he means it to be teasing, but it comes out a little shaky.

"I want - look, I know it's crap about virginity being special and your first time being perfect and all that, but… it's also not crap."

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"It's - it should be good, Eddie. You deserve to have something go right. I want to take my time with you, not be thinking about how we have to rush."

Well when Steve puts it like that.

"You're such a romantic," Eddie teases.

Steve's ears go a little pink, but he shrugs. "Yeah, I guess I kind of am."

Eddie pulls him back in for another kiss. "I love you," he whispers against his lips, part because he does and part just to see if he can get Steve all riled up again.

"Not fair," Steve mutters back.

Eddie can't help but laugh a little. "It work?"

"Yes." Steve kisses him again. "But it didn't change my mind."

He steps back, though Eddie's pleased to note that he looks both rumpled and reluctant. Eddie sighs, then reaches out to fix Steve's collar, run his fingers through his hair. Steve does the same for him, and it feels -

Well, pretty fucking good, actually.

They head back downstairs. Robin cheers for them, shouting, "Three minutes to spare!"

Steve rolls his eyes, leans over to kiss the top of her head.

Then he drags Eddie to the front door with him so they can kiss again, long and lingering, before Steve finally heads back out.

Eddie drifts back into the living room to sit down next to Robin again, trying not to look too dazed.

She huffs at him, and it's only then that he realizes this is the first time they've been alone since she told him she was coming back for him.

"You still pissed at me?"

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, you fixed that last night. For the record - it wasn't at you, not really. Steve was miserable, which gets my hackles up. I know, he said he was happy no matter what, but I know him. He would have been hung up on you for ages. Plus, the boy likes sex," she adds matter-of-factly. "It would have been awful dealing with him pining and all pent up from not getting laid."

Eddie snorts.

"What?" Robin asks.

"Nothing," Eddie replies. "Just - I'm really glad we don't have to work out a schedule for both of us having sex with him."

Robin lets out a sound that's some unholy mix between a giggle and a shriek. "Okay, first, thanks for putting that mental image in my brain, I need at least three shots later tonight to get that out. Second - oh my god we would run him ragged, he's pretty insatiable but I'm not sure even he could keep up with the two of us."

Eddie cackles, head tipping back in a laughter there's no way he can contain. "I really love you, Robbie," he says quietly when he's managed to calm down.

Her eyes are soft as she looks at him. "Yeah," she says. "I do, too."

"I can't promise that I won't ever hurt him," he says. "Because, you know, sometimes I get up in my head about stuff, and sometimes I miss things. But I love him. It's always going to be him. I won't - I won't ever leave him, or give up on us."

Robin's quiet for a long time. "You and I aren't really soulmates, you know. I can't tell if you just lied to me."

Eddie knows what his knee-jerk reaction to that is. But he sits with it for a moment, breathes in and breathes out, and then decides knee-jerk was the right reaction. "Yeah, you can."

Robin smiles at him, reaching out to tug on a lock of his hair. "Yeah, I can," she agrees.

He opens his arms, and she hugs him, then shoves him off.

"Come on, Steve left us to do the lunch dishes."

—

Steve brings home pizza for dinner when he gets done with patrolling.

"Hey, I was thinking - do you want to head out to Forest Hills when we're done?" Steve asks while they eat. "There's not really anyone there anymore, we could see if there's anything left of yours you want to get."

Eddie considers that. Part of him isn't sure he wants to go back there, ever, but the other part kind of feels like he needs to see it. To make it real again, and not just a thing in his nightmares.

So he agrees, and they head out after they clean up dinner - Robin refuses to get stuck with it this time.

It still feels strange, driving around in the front seat of Steve's Bimmer, but mostly a nice strange. They don't pass many cars on the way out there, and Steve's got Trooper's Thick as Thieves album playing quietly, and Eddie can just lean back and alternate looking out the window with looking at the beautiful boy in the driver's seat.

Steve pulls a couple of empty boxes out of the trunk when they get there, and Eddie sees him hesitate over the nail bat that's still in there from his patrol earlier.

"Here," Eddie says, taking the boxes so Steve can grab the bat.

There hasn't been any sign of Vecna or the Upside Down on their patrols yet, but Eddie's pretty sure they'll both feel better if Steve's carrying it.

The trailer is barely holding together, a huge chunk ripped out of the living room, and Eddie swallows back a surge of tears.

He knows they have insurance, knows what Uncle Wayne said about the stuff in the trailer, but - it was the first place that ever really felt like home to Eddie. Even though the home was more about Uncle Wayne himself than the physical trailer, it hurts seeing it like this.

"Hey," Steve says softly. "We don't have to do this tonight, we can wait."

We.

Like it's just a guarantee that whenever Eddie does decide to look through the shattered remains of his life, Steve will be right there with him. No question.

It shouldn't be, but it's still a little bit of a surprise to realize that Eddie believes it.

"No," he says, though he does lean in for a kiss. "I want to get this over with. Come on, let's look in my room."

His room isn't as bad as the living room, but it's still pretty trashed. He gets to work rifling through the debris while Steve hangs out in the doorway, nailbat on one shoulder and keeping an eye on the dormant but still not closed gate in the living room.

Eventually, Eddie manages to find about a couple of boxes worth of clothes, most of his jewelry, some D&D things, a few other odds and ends. It's not a lot, but it's more than Eddie thought he might have, which lifts his spirits a little.

"I can stop borrowing your clothes all the time," Eddie tells Steve.

Steve makes a face like he's trying not to say anything.

"What?" Eddie asks.

"…I kind of like you in my clothes," Steve admits.

Eddie barks out a little laugh, then sets down his box so he can sidle into Steve's space. "Oh yeah?" he asks, cocking one eyebrow. "You want me to wear your letterman jacket?"

Steve tips his head, which Eddie is pretty damn sure means yes, but I don't want to say it.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie teases as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of Steve's jeans and gives it a tug. "You wanna be my boyfriend?"

"I'm your soulmate," Steve replies, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't stop himself from being reeled in.

"You wanna be my boyfriend," Eddie repeats, voice sing song, and steals another kiss.

"You were the one who said you wanted the full Steve Harrington experience," Steve teases back.

"I was joking!" Eddie replies, but he realized the moment he says it that - well, no, he kind of wasn't.

Steve grins widely at him. "No, you weren't," he retorts, with all the confidence of someone who's just felt a new lie being written on them.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. "So what are you going to do about it, then?"

Steve leans in to kiss him one more time. "Come on. Let's get out of here first."

And, well, all right, Eddie can't exactly protest that.

He picks up two boxes, leaving Steve to grab the third and his bat, then the two of them head back out of the trailer.

They're not too far from what's left of the front door when the sound of footsteps crunches on the gravel nearby.

It's probably just one of the handful of folks too stubborn to leave Forest Hills, but - it's dark, and Eddie can't see anyone, and he can't help the rush of panic that he feels. It must hit Steve the same way, because when he turns back to look at him, he sees that Steve has gone still, head tilted like he's listening.

The sound of a gun cocking rings out far louder than it should.

"Don't move," Jason Carver says.

-----

Tag list (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

At least all three of them are finally on the same page?

Part 25

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC Pick a Fruit: Something To Look Forward to in 2024 ❄🎁🎊

Sup y'all, I'm finally back again! I have not been as active on this blog as I've wanted to be these past two months, but hopefully that will change a little bit as the year settles to a close for winter.

I'm also excited to use my Tarotwave deck which just arrived in the mail this past week. I'm grateful to have backed it on Kickstarter! I know this is gonna be one deck of cards I'll be very amped to use on this blog. It's like an early Xmas gift ^^

2023 has been a bumpy ride for many people (and yours truly), and the biggest thing most of us want to know is how our next year is going to be, and if there's anything good in store. So I made sure to focus on asking for only the most positive and beneficial things that will bless you in this reading, because I want 2024 to be exciting for you and I wanna hype you up.

Pick one of the squishable fruits below to find out a hint or two about what you have to look forward to in 2024.

1 - Strawberry 2 - Orange 3 - Banana

Pile 1: Strawberry

Queen of Cups + VI The Lovers, IX The Hermit, Eight of Wands; Trillion, Anything is Possible, Guidance

For you, pile 1, 2024 is gonna be filled with pleasant little surprises that could appear out of nowhere. The Trillion card is connected to Aquarius and talks about living by ones own truth, but the zodiac is also connected to Uranian forces, helping us receive out-of-the-box insights to whatever challenge we're facing.

I think this pile has spent a great amount of time working on themselves. I don't know if you relate to the word "shadow work" or not, but this feels like you're in the tail end of that cycle. You've grown a lot in emotional maturity over the past months, and perhaps have released some form of major karmic or generational baggage that was weighing on you emotionally. Now it's going to become easier for you to express who you are because the extra emotional burden will not be there as before.

I'm sensing a vast expansiveness to this pile as a result, a willingness to be open to life. It's a calm and steady feeling. This is "come whatever may" energy. 2024 will be a chance for you to settle into the quiet, because that's where the miracles will appear. I feel like this is a quiet that's been anticipated, more relieving than boring. This is a space of being in the flow with life and being ready for whatever comes next without mental resistance.

For some, this could be a romantic reading. I tend to think of strawberries as a rather flirtatious fruit! And we have the Lovers here too. Typically the Lovers talks about decisions, but I don't feel here like you're in a position to be making some kind of clear cut choice at the moment. This is more emphasizing on loving the feeling of love itself. This is a carefree disposition to allowing your heart to guide you when things look overwhelming on the surface.

There's no need or pressure to rush into any kind of decision even if there's an eagerness to do so. You're being encouraged to fully take time out and explore your feelings so you can create a better alignment with the type of person you desire in your life. You're allowing yourself to be curious and open minded without the unnecessary input that others may give you unsolicited. The Hermit is in an empowered position here.

I think 2024 will give you time to lean back rather than pursue, which is not the same as being avoidant. We have the eight of wands here; when the opportunity strikes, it can strike hot! But the key is that you're taking in this energy rather than chasing it. In the meanwhile, you're filling up your cup and learning how to be fulfilled with this peaceful space, and you'll find it easier to be patient when it comes to finding whatever you've been seeking.

You're learning that you have all the time you need to stay in this calm state, and that rushing with everything doesn't always speed up fate. The sense of having more time to sleep and nurture yourself will greatly benefit you when the time comes to receive this incredible spiritual insight, love, or blessings in the material world.

Pile 2: Orange

XI Justice + 2 of Cups, 4 of Cups, 5 of Swords; Single, What You Seek is Seeking You, Stories

For pile 2, the biggest keyword here is Clarity. If you've been in the fog about something for a while, that may start to clear up in 2024. Something that seemed difficult to tackle before will be greatly simplified for you. The Single card is Mercury energy and talks about beginnings in a conventional sense. So you'll look forward to starting over with something next year, perhaps from scratch, so it'll be better than before. You can deal with issues with a fresher mindset.

This is a specific message for a few, but if lately you feel like you've been involved in rumors, gossip, or some form of negativity spread through word of mouth, I see this dissolving in 2024. It will swing back around. Perhaps whoever is spreading the rumor will receive one in return. No hexing done here, but it looks like karma will put in the work to show that you or someone you know is innocent. If someone you know is gaslighting or spreading lies, they will feel the brunt of this. Any negativity sent to you will simply spin around and cancel itself out. So don't worry about other peoples' perceptions in 2024, they will undergo a big shift.

For others in this pile, you may have had some disagreements with your love or even business partner. Either one large disagreement that's been on the back burner for a while, or it's little ones that add up. It'll be different amongst you. But in 2024 these tiny issues will be more easily resolved. Things won't seem to complicated to untangle once any given situation is figured out.

Your energy is spent a lot more here on moving forward and looking for something new next year than dealing with conflicting relationships. With the four of cups, you're ready to move past whatever company or crowd is messing with your mood because you know better shit is on the way and you don't want to waste your emotional currency on anything draining or inherently unsatisfying.

You would rather move into what is right for you than deal with the drama, though I think there will be times when it circles back around and you may have to confront it again… It won't be as difficult as it was in the past, however. You're not dealing with so much confrontation in 2024, especially if you're actively prioritizing healthy relationships and practice healthy boundaries with others.

This may look to be the year where the art of setting mental boundaries is perfected. Mental boundaries means choosing what you'd rather think about than let your mind run loose. No longer trapped in the undertow of other peoples' nonsense, you're starting to get your life fully together. This will spill outwards into the outer world, and this will greatly help ease off the kind of bothersome encounters with people that may have popped up in 2023.

Some of you may identify as people pleasing, which is something that I see less of for you next year. It's almost like the vibe of seeing a kid watch a bunch of other children bully each other during recess, only for that lone kid to decide to go their own way and read a book. He might even make a new friend that way, who knows? 2024 will give you the chance to shrug certain expected worries off your back like water off of duck's feathers. Citrus is clean and refreshing. You can expect only the simplest and cleanest interactions moving forward (yes, I have Simple and Clean inside my head now, oof). It's all about keeping your eye on the prize that awaits ahead.

Pile 3: Banana

9 of Cups + XIV Temperance, XVIII The Moon, 7 of Wands, Prism, Projections, Power

Wow, so much lunar energy in pile 3's cards! I see bananas as lunar because they're shaped like crescents (and to go bananas is to be a lunatic!). Then you got two different version of moon cards on top of one another!

In this deck, the Moon has a softer and more subtle approach than the RWS. There's a greater emphasis on dreams and intuition with this card. Have you been connected to or manifesting with the lunar cycles? Or creating a dream journal to track your visions? If you've been interested in doing so, now would be a good time to look into it, as a confirmation. You're in alignment to receive!

This pile is really feeling the buzz of desires fulfilled and is pushing beautiful energy out into 2024. I'm not seeing specific desires listed here, just the overall potency of manifestation magic. This could possibly be a big year for you even. Just try not to get too carried away with the need to make 2024 into a particular kind of good year. Even if great things are lined up, allow room for the uncertainties to occur. These moments will happen to test you, and you'll need to stand your ground and be firm with what you want without your worries getting the best of you.

Pile 3, with Projections and Power? You are gonna look forward to 2024 being like a canvas for you to paint on. You can decide to paint whatever you wish, for a window of time as brief as the full moon. That's why your other three tarot cards are trying to slow you down a little bit, lol. Even if great luck is offered to you, be careful with how it factors into your life. You're being asked to have modesty, which must mean you're set to achieve or receive something very nice. But yeah, a sense of humbleness and gratitude will really help you here.

You're being reminded with the Moon that you don't have all the answers right now, and it's okay. Oftentimes the wish doesn't get granted until we lose our attachment to it or get sidetracked with life, then it's able to come in more easily. When we try to act resistant and overly arrogant with the seven of wands, it can bite back against us.

I'm also getting a message here about being humble with your blessings so to not attract unwanted attention from people. You could end up in a position where some may throw a lot of projections on you, but you will need to remind yourself of your Prism qualities. Prism is like pure spirit, it's the card of being spiritually aligned with one's self. You will be reminded that beyond good and bad fortunes, the pure spirit of self doesn't change. That is your power source.

Another thing you may look forward to are psychic upgrades. If you've been working on your psychic talent, you could receive a major boost this year. You may experience more clairsenses or messages in your dreams. These experiences and abilities will allow you to find the right time to act or wait on certain choices in your life. Your intuition is being greatly sharpened and amplified in 2024. Use this power with great care.

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2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™