#but anyways I hope this is a little bit like what you were thinking at least!

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Part 4 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you finally start dating.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A/N: Look at me sticking to my upload schedule. Although I might be able to publish the final two parts earlier since I had more time to write because I had to cancel some plans thanks to conjunctivitis.

I hope you enjoy these two finally getting together. As always, happy to hear what you think :)

After your conversation with Jenni you continued to sit on the couch, staring at your phone as if the device would be any help in figuring out how to ask Ana out.

As it turned out, it actually did. While you were still contemplating, weighing the pros and cons of every option, your phone buzzed with an incoming message. Your heart skipped a bit when you saw it was from Ana, just like it always did. And your heart definitely skipped more than one beat once you read the message.

You read the words over and over again, finding it impossible to believe this was actually happening. For so long you had told yourself there would never be anything more than friendship between you and Ana, and now all of the sudden your whole world had been turned upside down in the best way possible.

A little birdie just told me about the conversation you had.

Hope you don’t mind she told me.

Jenni said you didn’t tell her not to tell me, so she thought it was fair game.

Anyway, what do you say about changing our hangout tomorrow to an official date?

You know as a date, as more than friends.

Ana’s reply was almost instant.

Of course I don’t mind, it makes my life a lot easier!

I really owe that birdie, but don’t tell her that.

And yes, I’d love to do that!

You quickly texted back that you were excited about it as well, before putting away your phone grinning like a fool.  You felt like you were floating on a cloud of happiness, something that you hadn’t experience in a long, long time, maybe never to this degree.  

Great, I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow.

Already looking forward to it.

---

The next day you got more and more nervous the closer the time for Ana to pick you up came. However, whenever the anxiety threatened to become overwhelming, you just thought about the Swiss woman; how happy you always were in her presence and how at ease she made you feel, as if you were perfect just the way you were. Every time you did that you immediately felt much calmer; less anxious nervous and much more joyful excited. 

 Still, it took you forever to pick out an outfit, mentally thanking Ana that she had texted you earlier in the day to at least let you know what style of clothes you should be wearing, elegant but not overly fancy. In the end you settled on a black dress because you could never go wrong with that, and it did show off your body in the best way possible.

Even with all the internal debating about your outfit you ended up being ready almost 30 minutes before the pickup time, because you had started so early. Therefore you settled down on the couch, trying and failing to distract yourself with your phone.

Only a few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door. With a frown you went to open it, hoping it wasn’t your parents with some sort of request to help them out. You definitely didn’t have time to do that right now.

However, when you opened the door and laid eyes on Ana your frowned turned into a big smile. You were always happy to see her, but tonight even more so. Finally you got to be with her in the way you wanted, no more pretending to be just friends.

“Hi,” you greeted her, too distracted by the blonde’s mere presence to wonder why she was here so early.

“Hi,” Ana echoed, stepping forward to hug you. You melted into the embrace and turned your face inwards against her neck, relishing in the fact that you didn’t have to suppress gestures like this any longer.

“Ready to go?” The Swiss woman asked you after a bit.

You nodded, grabbing the bag you had conveniently placed next to the door. When you turned back towards Ana, she reached out offering you her hand. You instantly laced your fingers through hers, the small contact filling you with warmth and an overwhelming sense of belonging right there in this moment.

When you were getting into the car you heard the church bells ring and suddenly realized how early the Swiss woman had been. It wasn’t like she was known for being unpunctual, but also she wasn’t usually this early.

“How come you were here this early? Did I have the time wrong?”

That seemed like the most logical explanation, even though you had checked the time in Ana’s text about at dozen times.

“Well, I knew you’d be ready early and I didn’t want to make you wait unnecessarily and maybe get anxious.”

Your heart melted at this. It was so thoughtful of Ana and it showed how well she already knew you. This fact put you even more at ease. There was no need to pretend or try to show yourself in the most favorable light, this woman already knew you and somehow she still liked you.

“Plus I was excited to go out with my friend,” the blonde continued.

For a second your stomach dropped at the last word, but when you looked over and saw the humor in Ana’s eyes you recognized that she was just teasing you.

“I guess I deserve that,” you conceded, “And for the record I never wanted you to be just my friend.”

You were a little surprised by your own boldness. However, Ana made you feel like it was not only okay to say what you were thinking, but that it was in fact exactly what the Swiss woman wanted.

“That’s good to know,” Ana stated, sounding much more serious all of the sudden as if she still hadn’t been totally sure about your feelings.

Suddenly you felt a little silly for not taking into account that other people got insecure as well. You had been so focused on yourself, that you had never considered how it must have been for the Swiss woman to constantly hear you emphasize that you were merely friends.

“I’m sorry about that, I just didn’t think there was any possibility you’d ever like me too,” you apologized.

Ana looked over at you sadly. “I know, but we’ll work on that,” she promised.

“On what?”

“On the way you see yourself! Don’t think I missed how you didn’t believe me when I told you that everyone I know on the Spanish national team likes you and is always looking forward to seeing you,” the blonde elaborated.

You didn’t quite know how to react to such blatant flattery. Most likely this was just Ana being sweet, but you couldn’t lie, it was still nice to hear.

“See, you’re doing it again. You don’t believe me,“  the blonde accused you softly.  

You whipped your head around to look at Ana, shocked that she could read you so easily. Up until now you had always prided yourself on having a good poker face, but apparently the Swiss woman saw right through it.

She didn’t say anything else though, merely smiling at you gently. The silence gave you the time you needed to gather your thoughts. Once again you found yourself being surprisingly honest.

“It’s just because I’m nothing special, I’m just me. I’m too quiet and not very interesting. It’s not like I think everyone hates more or anything. But why would anyone particularly like me?”

In your opinion you had made a good point, but Ana’s eyes were filled with disapproval and sadness on your behalf.

“Because you’re a great person! You always have an open ear for everyone. If there’s anything you can do to help someone, you do it without hesitation. You have such a good heart and you’re so mindful of everyone around you, doing your best to make everyone feel seen and heard.”

“Sure you don’t talk everyone’s ears off as soon as you meet them, but once you’re more comfortable? You tell great stories that always make me feel as if I’m right there with you and I love hearing what you think about things because I can tell that you took your time to form opinions. And to see you speak passionately about the things you care, that’s just something else!”

“Also, I love how much you appreciate the beauty around you. Going somewhere with you is such a treat because you will always point out the pretty flowers, the interesting cloud constellation or the cute dog you see with so much joy and reverence.”

“And let’s not forget that you’re gorgeous. You have the most beautiful and kindest eyes I have ever seen and don’t even get me started about your smile!”

You were overwhelmed by how easily, without even thinking about it first, the Swiss woman managed to list all of these nice qualities. It made you more inclined to believe her. At the very least Ana had you convinced that she meant every word she had said, and that in itself was a good feeling, even if you weren’t convinced all of this was actually, objectively true.

“I could keep talking all night long about all the reasons why I like you so much, but I guess you wouldn’t really appreciate that. So instead I’ll keep bringing it up for as long as you’ll let me be a part of your life, which I’m hoping will be a very long time,” Ana concluded.

“That’s probably a good idea, otherwise you’ll spend the rest of the evening with a tomato head,” you joked.

You had always hated how easily you turned red, your frustration usually only making it worse.

“I wouldn’t complain about that for a second, I find your blushing adorable,” Ana commented, which of course only made you blush even more, but for once you didn’t mind as much.

You arrived at your destination soon after, and you immediately recognized the place from pictures you had seen of Lola and her girlfriend. So the mystery of how the blonde had chosen where to take you was solved. You had never actually been to the restaurant yourself since it was very romantic and mostly frequented by couples, but you had heard good things about it.

By the end of the evening you could definitely confirm that all the praise you had been told about the restaurant was justified. Although in all honesty every place would have felt like heaven to you when it was the location of your first date with Ana.

The conversation stayed mostly light and happy for the first half and hour, both of you enjoying each other’s company and this new and exciting situation. In a lot of ways it wasn’t all that different, you talked as easily as before, the conversation flowing effortlessly. So once again you realized that you had gotten into your heard for nothing. Things weren’t awkward or weird at all, like you had been concerned about.

Sure, there were some differences, all of them positive though; the way you kept slipping from normal conversation into light flirting, how you just gazed deep into each other eyes a few of times, and the way Ana placed her hand onto yours and left it there as long as she possibly could, sighing when she had to retract it because you both needed your hands to eat.

“So do you want to talk about the national team?” You asked, once the last of your nervousness had settled.

Ana shrugged her shoulders unsurely, smile dropping from her face. You had to fight the urge to take it back and apologize for probing; reminding yourself about the conversation you had had after the game against Barcelona. It was okay to ask, and if the Swiss woman actually didn’t want to talk about it, she would tell you. Still, this went entirely against your instinct.

“It’s just such a frustrating situation. Inka is a horrible coach! At least for us, maybe it’s just not a good fit, I don’t know, but for us it doesn’t work. We’re playing badly and the atmosphere at camp isn’t how it used to be. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nothing like what I heard about Spain, but everyone was kind of in a state of constant annoyance and was so happy when we could leave.”

“And the worst thing is that the home Euros is coming closer everyday and I wanted that to be the crowning moment of my career. Maybe that’s selfish, I don’t know, but now? Now I think it’s going to be nightmare, if I even get to go at all,” Ana finished her rant that had began passionate and angry, but fizzled out into something more like helplessness. 

Exactly like after the game against Barcelona the Swiss woman looked drained, her shoulders slumped and her smile no longer reaching her eyes. It made you simultaneously want to give her the longest hug in the world and go and punch Inka in the face.

However, since you were still sitting in the restaurant you settled on reaching over and giving her hand a good squeeze, before doing your best to come up with a good response.

“I’m so sorry things are like that and I’m always here to listen if you need to rant about it or hold you if you need to cry. Trying to keep in your emotions isn’t healthy.”

That was probably one of the most hypocritical things you had ever said, you who always held your emotions in until you felt like imploding. However, theoretically you knew that wasn’t a helpful thing to do, so you weren’t going to advise someone else to do that.

“And I can help you figure out if there’s anything you and the girls can do. I did a lot of reading and looking things up when everything was going down with Spain. Of course it’s a totally different system, but I’m still happy to help out,” you offered.

A soft smile, a real smile, one that made Ana’s eyes shine, returned to the blonde’s face.

“I appreciate how much you care. That means more than I can ever express with words. To be honest we’ve already started looking into what our options are and have been talking with the Swiss federation. So maybe it’s not quite as hopeless as it feels right now. The next few weeks should give us an answer to that,” Ana told you.

You felt some relief at that. Surely there was no way the Swiss federation would be as difficult and idiotic as the Spanish one. Right? Therefore things would hopefully be sorted out before too long and Ana would get the home Euros she deserved.

“That’s good. I’m confident things will turn out okay,” you said with more confidence than you actually felt. But Ana didn’t need to know that. If you were wrong in the end you would deal with it then, right now the best thing you could do was strengthen her hope.

“Yeah?” The Swiss woman double-checked, confirming to you that this was actually the right thing to do.

“Definitely,” you assured her, praying to a god you didn’t believe in that you wouldn’t be proven wrong.

“I think so too,” Ana admitted quietly, as if she was scared to say it too loudly out of fear of jinxing it.

“Now let’s talk about other things. I don’t want Inka to ruin the mood on my date as well, she has done enough of that during camp. How about we focus on your national camp instead? I heard you almost made Jenni rip out her own hair with your cluelessness,” the Swiss woman teased with a big grin.

Your first instinct was to tell Ana that it was totally fine to keep talking about the situation with her national team, that it wouldn’t ruin anything. But then she mentioned Jenni and all the teasing you had endured, and all of the sudden you wanted to beg her to continue talking about the Swiss team. Anything to avoid speaking about how oblivious you had been.

“Come on, let’s be honest Jenni would never rip out her precious hair or do anything else to ruin her looks,” you deflected, basking in the sound of Ana’s laughter. You would never get tired of making the blonde laugh.

You kept up the banter for a bit, before you remembered a specific thing you had been fretting about for the last 24 hours. It probably wasn’t something you should bring up on the first date, or maybe it was exactly the kind of thing you had to mention on the first date. You still hadn’t made up your mind about that.

All you knew was that in that moment, feeling happy and secure in Ana’s presence, you wanted to talk about it. And maybe it was time to do what you wanted more often and worry less about whether it was the ‘normal’ thing to do. What was normal anyway?

“There’s something I need to tell you”, you blurted out, kicking yourself for making it sound so ominous. No one ever said ‘I need to tell you something’ about unimportant stuff.

“Of course, I’m all ears,” Ana replied, smiling at you encouragingly.

“Okay, so…” You swallowed, trying to gather yourself. „I’ve never been in a serious relationship before. I mean I’ve dated and had flings and such, but never a serious long term relationship. And I don’t know it that’s a problem for you. I would totally understand if it was. And maybe I shouldn’t even have brought it up tonight, so I’m sorry if I’m making this awkward. Although if it is a problem then it was probably good I told you today. I…”

“Schatz,” Ana interrupted you. You didn’t really know any German, let alone Swiss German, but you were fairly certain you remembered this one. The use of a sweet pet name relaxed you significantly; she wouldn’t do that if this was in fact a deal breaker.

“I don’t care about that in the slightest. I’ve never been in a relationship with you either, so that will be brand new for me too. We’ll figure it out together,” the Swiss woman promised.

“Together,” you echoed. You loved the sound of that.

---

As time passed and more dates followed it became clear that Ana had been right. Things between the two of you just progressed naturally and not once did you feel out of your depth because of your lack of experience with relationships.

You shared a magical first kiss on a walk through the city after your second date. Ana’s lips felt pleasantly warm on yours in the chilly night air. After that all dams were broken and you spent a lot of time kissing like two hormonal teenagers, slowly or more precisely pretty rapidly moving on to other activities.

After the first time you slept together, the two of you lay in Ana’s bed facing each other. The Swiss woman gently traced her thumb over your forehead and your cheek, looking at you lovingly. Although you did your best to avoid using this word for anything to do with Ana just yet. It was too early to even think about love.

“Are you okay? Was this okay?” The blonde whispered, her eyes serious and for some reason slightly worried.

You stared at her in surprise. Could she not see how happy and satisfied you were, how cherished and lo- adored you felt?

“This was perfect and I feel amazing. You know I had sex before, right?”

Suddenly you weren’t sure if you had been clear about that. Maybe you had given Ana the impression that you weren’t just a relationship virgin, but an all around virgin.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but still this is a big step and I just wanted to check in. It’s different when feelings are involved,” Ana elaborated.

For a moment you just grinned at her like an idiot. If you thought you had been feeling lo-, adored before, it was nothing to how you felt now.

“You’re just the absolute sweetest, tesoro. And you’re totally right, it is different. So much better! I can’t wait to go again, but right now I need some sleep. Someone wore me out.“

You looked at her pointedly, but that quickly changed into a smile when you saw how proud of herself Ana looked.

“In that case, sleep, mi Schatz. Because I definitely need you to be ready for another round soon,” Ana said, pulling you against her and kissing your forehead.

It took you all of five seconds before you fell into a peaceful slumber, your face buried in Ana’s neck.

---

However, you were right too, about everything sorting itself out with the Swiss national team. You were eating lunch at Real’s training ground when you heard, willing the time to move faster because tonight you would finally see Ana again. The two of you hadn’t been able to meet up the last few days because of insanely busy and conflicting schedules.

So when your phone buzzed with a message from Ana your heart fluttered happily. Hearing from her was always the highlight of your day. Things at Real were still less than ideal. You didn’t feel connected to the team, most of them still seeing you as ‘that Altético player’.

You were well aware that you were to blame for that as much as anyone, maybe even more so. Your efforts to integrate into the team had been minimal to say the least. And you felt a fair bit of anger at yourself for being so unprofessional, but somehow that still wasn’t enough to change anything. You just didn’t want to be there. It was as simple as that. And you could pretend, but you couldn’t change your actual feeling.

Day after day you forced yourself to be perfectly punctual, train hard, listen to the game plans and analyses, but there was no joy to any of it. Not even when you played games, something that you had always loved before. You were simply going through the motions.

At least you were having a pretty good season; otherwise your disappointment with yourself would have been through the roof.

When you checked your phone you saw that it was a screenshot announcing Inka’s departure from the Swiss national team. A happy squeal escaped you, everyone turning to look at you. It wasn’t like you to be loud, especially not in a cheerful way.

“What is it?” Misa asked curiously.

You simply showed her your phone, a smile appearing on the goalkeeper’s face.

“This is great news,” she agreed.

“Amazing news,” you corrected.

Now you were even more excited to see Ana later that night and celebrate this special occasion.

You were happy that you had decided to meet up at your place; this gave you the opportunity to prepare something special. However, you didn’t have much time, so you found yourself standing in the store after training looking around frantically and blanking on what to do.

The first idea that came to mind was to get a cake with a message like ‘She’s gone!’ on it. But you seriously doubted that you would get one on such short notice. Also a whole cake for just the two of you didn’t sound like a good plan.

So maybe just a card? What kind of card though? You had some strong suspicions that there wasn’t anything like an ‘I’m so happy you got rid of your stupid national coach’-card. 

You could practically feel the seconds ticking by, getting more and more anxious by the minute. Time was running out and you still didn’t have the slightest idea what to do.

Noticing how tense you had become you forced yourself to exhale slowly and relax your body, starting with your jaw and slowly progressing downwards. There was no reason to get so stressed about this. Ana wouldn’t expect any grand gestures; you wouldn’t disappoint here no matter what you did or didn’t do.

As you calmed down the fog in your brain lifted and you regained the ability to make decisions. After having a swift look around you settled on buying the ingredients for Ana’s favorite meal, as well as two caramel cupcakes. As a last minute decision you added two candles to put on the cupcakes, one an I and one a G. This way you could literally get the satisfaction of seeing Inka Gring’s legacy go up in smoke.

Later that evening Ana arrived at your apartment with a bright smile on her face and some extra pep in her steps. She immediately pulled you into a tight hug, rocking the both of you excitedly from side to side.

“I’m so happy for you,” you told her, leaning back slightly to beam at her, before getting closer again and peppering her face with light kisses. 

This made Ana giggle. “And you know what makes me happy?” She gasped.

You stopped your kisses and tilted your head, unsure of where the Swiss woman was going this. It didn’t seem like the kind of question she would ask if the answer was the obvious one; Inka leaving.  

“That you are so happy for me. It means the world  to me that you care so deeply, about both the good and the bad things happening in my life,” Ana clarified.

A blush cropped up on your face and you moved to hide your face in Ana’s neck, but the Swiss woman gently stopped you

“Don’t. You know I love your blush,” she murmured, placing her hands on your slightly pink cheeks and taking in every inch of your face. “So beautiful.”

Of course that only made you blush more. Ana winked at you, but didn’t stop you when you once again stepped forward to bury your face in her shoulder.

The two of you spent a nice evening together; spirits were high all around thanks to the good news. Ana showered you in compliments for your cooking and when you brought out the cupcakes she burst into laughter.

“I love this! Like a cleansing from Inka,” she said in between laughing.

“Shhh, this is a serious matter,” you chastised her playfully.

“Oh sorry,” the blonde replied, forcing a solemn expression onto her face.

However, it only lasted for all of five seconds before the huge smile that had been on her face all night long returned. You wouldn’t be complaining about that though. A happy Ana made you happy.

“To the end of the unfortunate Inka-area and to a better future for your national team,” you announced, lighting the two candles on fire. “Make a wish!”

Ana leaned forward and blew out the candles with closed eyes. Then she turned to you. “Do you want to know what I wished for?”

You shook your head firmly. “No! Otherwise it won’t come true.”

Ana smirked. “Too bad because it involves you.”

“Wait really? Then I change my mind and want to know,” you backtracked, mentally running through everything she could have wished for.

“Nope, too late,” the Swiss woman informed you.

“Meeeeeaaaaan,” you complained.

Ana just grinned at you, shrugged her shoulders and took a big bite of her cupcake.

When you continued to pout at her, she offered you a compromise, “Fine, I’ll tell you when it comes true, okay? And now enough with the puppy dog eyes. Otherwise I might crack and tell you right now and then we’ll both be at fault when it doesn’t come true.”

“Sounds good to me,” you agreed, biting into your own cupcake with gusto.

And honestly just knowing that Ana had made a wish that included you warmed you heart. It was nice to be such a big part of someone else’s life, someone other than your parents that was. But you wouldn’t think about them right now, nothing was allowed to taint this moment.

Instead of dwelling on your thoughts you looked up at Ana happily chewing the last bite of her cupcake.

“I love you,” you blurted out without thinking about it.

Once the words had left your mouth you instantly regretted them. Not that they weren’t true, they absolutely were, but you hadn’t said them to each other yet. So what if Ana didn’t feel the same and you just ruined this perfect moment? Or even worse, everything!

At least Ana was still smiling at you, that was probably a good sign. If she was going to leave right then and there she wouldn’t smile. Right?

“I love you too,” the Swiss woman simply said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.  

“Really?” You couldn’t help but ask.

Ana got up and came over to your side of the table. She grabbed your hands, softly pulling you up so you were on eye level.

“Of course I love you. How could I not? I guess we still have some work to do until you see yourself the way I see you, as such an amazing, good-hearted, beautiful person,” she told you earnestly.

“I really love you.” It was the only thing that came to mind, Ana’s compliments once again overwhelming you.

“That’s good because I really love you too,” the blonde replied with a chuckle, gathering you into her arms. “And I won’t rest until you love yourself too , exactly the way that you deserve.”

You just snuggled even closer into Ana, a deep calmness filling you up from head to toe. It wasn’t something you were used to, usually there was always some anxiety running in the background. However, the blonde brought you so much peace.

It was something you had never expected before you experienced it yourself. You had always thought love would be all excited butterflies and exuberance. There was some of that of course, but also this all-encompassing calmness, that was in many ways even better than all of the excitement.

[bokettochild]

thoughts on Fable LU

I know most creators in the LU circle like to make Fable be a nice, gentle person in contrast to Legend- the sweet to his sour if you will, but you know what?

I want Fable to be the most ice queen level sort of screwed up that, when the chain find out Legend has a sister, they THINK she's the sweet one- only to meet her and realize that Legend is the nice one in the family.

I want a Fable that lost her mom and dad because Ganon's servants were hunting her family down for ages, killing off every Hylian Knight as they sought out the hero, hoping to eliminate him before Ganon emerged. I want a Fable that knows her father was betrayed by his best friend and cast into the dark world. I want a Fable that's watched the king make dubious decisions for years and has come to accept them as normalcy. I want a Fable who doesn't hesitate to kill for the good of her kingdom. I want a Fable that's well aware of how dark the world is and grew up with that knowledge.

I want a Fable who has watched her brother tear himself apart for the world they protect, who's seen him go from innocent child to grief-ridden young man; full of guilt and still desperately wanting to save everyone. A princess who contrasts her hero, but not in a way that makes him look cruel, but highlights the humanity of the saltiest hero.

A princess who is cold to outsiders, in contrast to how Legend befriends other kingdoms with ease. A princess who will kill, where her hero shows mercy. A princess who makes the tough decisions, because she won't force others to do so for her. A princess who is dangerous and cold, someone who makes even the heroes doubt which side she stands on.

I want a Princess Fable Hyrule who has set her sights on being strong- not because she wants to be 'great' or because she wants power, or even to go down in history. Not even for Hyrule. (She never got to see Hyrule or know it's people, it makes no sense that she'd love them with anything like someone who actually knows anything about them personally, not like her brother). No, she wants to be powerful for one reason: so her brother can stop forcing himself to be strong.

She called this little boy to help her and watched him make his first kill and sent him on a mission that slowly tore him apart and reforged him into a hero. Like her predecessor, she blames herself for stealing his childhood, except Legend is her brother, and she has no way to give back what he lost. So, instead, she tries to create a place where he no longer has to remain what he became, and maybe can go back to being what he was before; carefree, content, and happy. (He won't, but she wants him to have that option anyway).

She's a wildfire to the court, to her enemies she's a storm, but she's a warm, gentle thing with her baby brother.

She's the scary Zelda to me. I think all of them should be affected by their worlds and experiences, but I feel like she, of all of the princesses, has the best potential to be hardened. After all, she's been through most of the same hell as Legend, only unable to change it. She's been powerless long enough, I want her to be just a bit power hungry in the wake of it.

I want Fable to be scary!

[joelalorian]

Fevered Flame

Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Summary: When Marcus Pike lost himself in work after that debacle with Theresa, he didn’t expect to take on a sizzling new case in the quirky town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Nor did he expect to meet you, an up-and-coming agent also looking for a fresh start. An unprecedented heatwave, mind-boggling art thefts, ancient Aztec legends, this case had the works. How would he ever solve the case with the temperature rising between you both?

This fic is my contribution to @iamasaddie's Little Lady Kinky May writing challenge. Prompts were Marcus Pike and Temperature. This is my first time writing Marcus Pike and I hope I did him justice. I learned a few things about myself during this process, the most important being that I am incapable of writing porn without plot, or a romantic angle, apparently. This story turned out waaaaay different than intended because of that. I apologize now for the plot heaviness between sexy bits.

WC: 10.4k – I’m sorry, I have no idea where all these words came from

Warnings: Explicit 18+, too much plot, heat making people cray cray, sexy sweatiness, lots of cursing (I’m from New Jersey, I can’t help it), nonsensical crime stuff, a plot that came straight outta left field, protected and unprotected sex (p in v), pussy eating and cock sucking, inappropriate use of an ice cube and hot springs. No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname and boobs, otherwise, I tried to keep her a blank slate. Some terms of endearment. IDK, there’s probably more but I can’t think right now.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this utter ridiculousness. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics. Moodboard by me.

Masterlist

Still reeling from the aftermath of Theresa Lisbon choosing that pontificating windbag Patrick Jane over him nearly a year ago, Marcus Pike buried himself in work. The transition from Texas to DC and adapting to leading a whole new team took his mind of his misery. However, the lonely nights in his new home, the one purchased with hopes of building a life with Theresa in mind, were untenable and he took on more fieldwork than someone at the director level typically would. Hence why Marcus found himself driving through the desert to some quirky small town in New Mexico called Truth or Consequences.

What the fuck kind of name was that for a town, he wondered idly as his right hand pumped the rental car’s AC to full blast. Having already stripped off his suit jacket and tie, Marcus sweat clear through his lavender dress shirt within minutes. The heat was ungodly. Surely it couldn’t be normal. How could people live like that?

Eyes scanning the dashboard display of the mid-size SUV the agency rented for him, they nearly bugged out of his head at the temperature reading. Lit up in glaring red, the numbers 121°F taunted him as sweat dripped down his temples.

Jesus Christ. Death Valley had nothing on this place.

Marcus steered the vehicle toward his hotel, opting to change into something a little more suitable for the local climate before checking in with the agent representing the local field office. The FBI put him up in a supposedly nice hotel, though he didn’t have high expectations of what that meant in a town like this. As long as the AC worked, he’d survive.

Thirty minutes later, Marcus took his second shower of the day, this one much colder than the last, and jumped back into the SUV in an outfit more typical of a golf outing than an FBI investigation. It was the best he could do with what he packed. The local agent texted him the address of an art gallery, the first in a series of apparent crime scenes, and he plugged the address into the GPS.

Normally, you didn’t mind the heat, preferring that to cold winters, but this current heatwave was beyond ridiculous. You sweat just by simply existing. You never experienced anything like it in the five years you’d been stationed in Albuquerque, and you suddenly found yourself longing for the bone-deep cold of a northeastern winter as you waited for the DC agent to arrive.

The chilling sea breeze of a New Jersey winter sounded like heaven right now.

A sleek silver SUV pulled up next to your government-issued sedan and you watched with an assessing gaze from the driver’s seat as Director Marcus Pike exited the vehicle clad in khaki shorts and a turquoise polo, trendy aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes from the glare of the desert sun. His dark brown hair was short and styled back off his forehead, and a neatly trimmed scruff lined his top lip and jaw.

You knew from a quick glance at his FBI profile that he was a decorated agent, but his government photo did not do him justice. The man was fucking gorgeous in person. Exiting your own vehicle before he caught you staring, you introduced yourself.

He flashed you a smile full of boyish charm when you gave him your name, causing your heart to thump double time. “You can just call me Jersey, everyone else does,” you finished, holding your hand out to shake his.

“Marcus Pike, Director of the Art Crimes Squad in DC,” he replied, his larger hand engulfing yours in a firm, yet not overbearing, shake. “Just call me Marcus.”

The two of you gazed at each other, the sun beating down on you both like laser beams. Holy fuck, Marcus was even hotter up close. Yeah, his FBI file photo did not do him any justice at all. Not wanting to make things uncomfortable by staring too long, you gestured toward the door to the gallery.

“Shall we?”

Marcus cleared his throat and nodded, following behind you as you strolled casually through the entrance. “Wanna give me a rundown of what we know so far?”

“Sure,” you replied. “We’ve had paintings stolen from several galleries in town. Despite its odd name and small-town status, Truth or Consequences has a rather robust art scene. Lots of expensive art showcased in these galleries.”

Marcus nodded as you gave him some background. He likely read most of this in the file on his flight out here, but you could appreciate the necessity of running over it again verbally. Repetition was the mother of… whatever the fuck that saying was. Your brain was already too fried from the heat.

“The thefts started almost a week ago, not too long after the start of the extreme heatwave this area is currently experiencing. There has been one painting taken every other day so far, always at the peak heat of the day when the townsfolk are too overheated and tired to pay much attention. No eyewitnesses and the thief artfully avoided any surveillance or security cameras so far.”

You watched Marcus jot down some notes, tapping the end of his pen against the small notepad as he reviewed the information.

“So, three paintings taken so far, and it’s still early in the day. I’m guessing we can expect another theft today?” You nodded and Marcus tapped the pen against his bottom lip this time, causing you to avert your gaze before he caught you ogling the plump flesh.

“Have there been any patterns identified?”

You could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “Just in the types of paintings taken so far. They all depict scenes of cool, serene landscapes.”

Dark brown eyes held your gaze. “So, the exact opposite of the current weather situation.”

Again, you nodded. “That’s the only pattern so far. We haven’t been able to determine any order to the galleries hit and, unfortunately, this town doesn’t have the law enforcement manpower to guard all of the galleries and still attend to their normal duties. We do have unis posted at the galleries that haven’t been hit yet, just in case. That’s the best the townies could do though.”

Humming in thought, Marcus walked around the gallery, causing you to scramble to keep up. It was fascinating watching his mind work, his big, brown eyes taking in every minute detail around him. When he stopped in front of the empty spot marking the first stolen painting’s former home, you paused next to him, debating on sharing the only other piece of information you had so far.

“There’s, uh, something strange that may or may not be related to this case.” That got Marcus’ attention and his eyes shot to you once again, brow arched curiously.

“Do tell,” he replied with an encouraging smile. You blinked slowly, trying in vain to maintain your concentration in front of such a handsome man.

“I will on the way to the other galleries. Just… just promise to hold judgment until I finish telling you everything. It’s a little… unorthodox compared to what we’re used, I’d say.” You led the way back to your car, gesturing for Marcus to get in on the passenger side. It made more sense to ride together. Thankfully, you left it running while inside the gallery, making the interior still nice and cool.

Once seated, his head cocked to the side endearingly, the tilt of his lips bordering on an indulgent smile. “Ok, I promise.” The cadence and depth of his soft-spoken voice set you aflame and you had to practically shake yourself to not fall to your knees in praise of this man.

Jesus Christ, Jersey, have a modicum of professionalism and self-respect, will ya, your inner monologue chided. Your libido hyperfixated on the veritable stud before you whether you wanted it to or not. It’d been too long since your last tumble in the sheets, apparently. Recentering your focus, you pulled out onto the main road heading to the next crime scene.

“Good,” you croaked. Feeling the heat creep up your already overheated flesh, you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you can tell, the weather here is ungodly hot – hard to miss it. This is not entirely normal, from what I understand. It’s tempting to chalk it up to climate change, except for one strange thing. Drive twenty or thirty minutes outside of town and the temps are far lower, though still hot by some standards. The temps within the surrounding towns are in line with the more normal averages.”

Brows furrowed, Marcus’ dark eyes searched your face, clearly looking for more context clues. “The heat certainly seemed excessive on the ride over from the municipal airport. I had to stop at the hotel and change or I would have melted to the pavement in my suit.”

You chuckled. “I know the feeling. The average temperature here is supposed to be in the low 90s this time of year, not thirty degrees higher. And the usually cooler desert nights haven’t existed for the past couple of weeks. It’s very strange.”

“And it’s just this town, you say?”

Pulling to a stop in front of the next gallery, you nodded. “Strange, right?”

“Very,” Marcus replied, deep in thought as he followed you inside.

It carried on like that the rest of the afternoon until the heat became just too much after checking out the last crime scene. Like everyone else in town, you sought refuge in the coolest place you could find, which happened to be a hole-in-the-wall pub just off the main street.

Just when Marcus thought things couldn’t get weirder with this town, you led him into a dark and dingy little pub, settling right up to the aged bar. If you weren’t a certified agency employee, he would be terrified that you were luring him to his untimely death.

As it was, the scraggly old barkeep gave him the creeps when he shuffled over, eyeing the pair of you with the same attention he would three-headed aliens. “Coldest beer in town. Two pints?” The man’s voice as rough as he looked, he didn’t wait for an answer.

Marcus shot you a look, eyes wide and uncertain, but you merely shrugged in return. He didn’t normally drink on the job, but between the heat and the early start for traveling, Marcus decided his day was finished. He chugged at the frosty draft when the barkeep placed it in front of him. The old man was right, the pint glass was frozen and small chunks of ice floated in the foamy beer.

“Damn, that’s good,” he nearly moaned, feeling refreshed.

“I know, right?” you replied, nearly half done with your own pint. “I don’t normally like beer, but I could drink it all day long when it’s ice cold like this. Especially in this heat, you know?”

The first round went down easily, and quickly, and the old barkeep, whose name turned out to be Harry, placed another round down before Marcus even thought to ask. The pair of you settled into easy conversation, getting to know each other outside of the job. The more you drank, the more your Jersey accent started to peak through. He found it cute and kept asking you questions just to keep hearing you talk.

Soon enough, any thought left in his mind about Theresa evaporated. How could he still think about his ex-fiancé when a hot, smart, sweet little thing like you sat before him, chatting, and flirting away the evening. Theresa had nothing on you.

It took exactly a fraction of a second to be struck by your beauty that morning. Confident and intelligent, not mention damn good at your job, he quickly realized your natural beauty served as icing on the cake. You were the entire package, and he was trying his damnedest to not charge ahead trying to get you into bed.

Turned out you both had similar relationship history, married too young and divorced, no kids, longed for a dog if only your job didn’t call you away so often. You were practically the female version of him, Marcus thought. It made him all the more curious about you.

Before long, you both ordered some bar grub and went back to talking about the case. Neither of you could make sense of what you had so far. There were vital pieces of the puzzle missing, that much was apparent.

Harry unceremoniously dropped plates full of burgers and fries in front of you, not even trying to hide the fact that he eavesdropped on your conversation.

“You think your case has something to do with the heat?” the old man questioned, leaning heavily on the bar top.

You and Marcus shared a look before you nodded.

“There’s some local lore you might find interesting, then,” Harry said, pausing for dramatic effect and you gestured for him to continue. “Well, as the legends go, the Flame of Quetzalcoatl was hidden somewhere in town centuries ago. They say it was a gem gifted by the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl himself, but who the recipient was no one knows. The gem is said to hold the power of the sun and the wielder of it has the ability to control heat.”

You and Marcus sat there in silence, absorbing the tale Harry just shared. After a few minutes, Marcus glanced at you, doubt clear in his expression.

“This town just gets fuckin’ weirder by the minute, I swear,” he said, sipping at his pint once again. “I might actually believe that little story if I was a few more beers in.”

You laughed, but your face didn’t hold the same doubt as his. “I don’t know, Marcus. If living out here for the past few years has taught me anything, it’s that these Aztec legends are often too close to the truth to blow off.”

Harry harrumphed. “I’d say so, little lady.”

“Besides, it’s the best we’ve got right now,” you said, nudging Marcus’ shoulder with yours. “Couldn’t hurt to play that angle until a better lead pops up.”

Marcus found himself agreeing, much to his surprise.

Over the next few days, you and Marcus researched as much as possible about local lore related to Aztecs, searching for any hint of what Harry told you. In that time, three more paintings were stolen. The thief started leaving little clues as if to goad law enforcement.

The first cryptic clue further convinced you of the potential voracity of the Aztec legend. Written in drip red paint in the spot where the fourth painting had been located, Marcus suspected the thief meant it to look like blood.

When the feathered serpent sheds its skin, the heat will rise.

“Holy shit,” you gasped when you first read it. Turning to Marcus, you declared, “Quetzalcoatl was known as the Feathered Serpent.”

His dark brown eyes widened, meeting yours in shock. “No way.”

You nodded, flipping through your notepad to find your most recent notes on the case. “Yes way. That book we borrowed from the Historical Society talked about it. Remember?”

Marcus nodded slowly as the information came back to him, his eyes searching yours, trying to make sense of this completely bizarre case. “Didn’t the book say something about Quetzalcoatl being a signal of transformation? Think the clue has something to do with that?”

“Yeah, could be.”

The pattern continued the next day with another clue left behind.

Where the earth boils and the water steams, the gem of the sun awaits.

The pair of you debated the meaning of the second clue over cold beer at Harry’s pub. As the case evolved, so did the connection between you and Marcus. You both flirted unashamedly when you weren’t talking about the case. It turned out the agency put you both up at the same hotel – your rooms on the same floor even. You were beginning to hope that he would make a move, yet completely terrified of that happening at the same time.

Despite your best efforts, the thief remained one step ahead of law enforcement, somehow managing to steal from galleries you had actively guarded. How in the world was this guy doing it?

Things were slowly coming together once a third clue was discovered.

Seek the place where fire and water dance, and there you will find the sun’s heart.

Without a local FBI office to work out of – the Albuquerque one you worked out of was over two hours away – you’d decided to setup camp in a quiet booth at Harry’s. He kept you full on pub grub and refreshments – soda and water during work hours, of course – and chipped in with his local knowledge whenever he thought it needed.

In fact, it was Harry who guided you toward understanding the latest clues.

“Have you two heard about the hot springs? This town is famous for them.” The old man dropped the nugget of knowledge along with a plate of fries and shuffled away, leaving the two of you to stare after him.

Marcus turned to you; his lips pursed in thought. You ached to nibble on the plump flesh of his bottom lip, to feel the gentle scratch of his facial hair against your soft skin as you did so.

“Where the earth boils and the water streams,” Marcus recalled the second clue in that delicious, soft-spoken voice of his, sending a wave of gooseflesh over your skin. “Seek the place where fire and water dance.”

Shaking your head free of naughty thoughts, you focused on the clues and the knowledge bomb Harry dropped, picking right up on Marcus’ thought process. “Fire, heat, and water... The hot springs!”

Marcus beamed at you; eyes sparkling as he came to the same realization. “It has to be. Makes sense, right?”

“Sure does,” you agreed, grinning back at him. “But there must be a ton of them. How would we ever find the right one?”

Sitting back in his seat, Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ll have to keep digging. Do you still have that book from the Historical Society? Maybe there’s something else in there to help us.”

“It’s back in my room,” you reply. “Fancy ordering room service at the hotel while we go over the clues again?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What was he thinking, agreeing to go back to your room to continue working on the case.

An unwitting temptress already, how was he supposed to control himself when you invited him into your room for dinner, drinks, and after-hours casework?

In the already excessive desert heat, Marcus was sweating bullets as he followed you into your room, conveniently located only a few doors down from his own.

“I have a bottle of cab, is that good?” you questioned, kicking off your shoes with a sigh before reaching for the screw cap bottle.

Audibly gulping, Marcus squeaked out an assent and wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts. He glanced around the room to distract himself, noting happily that you were a tidy traveler, much like himself.

“I have bottled water as well. Would you like one?” Marcus nodded. With an indulgent smile, you held out the small ice bucket. “I like mine over ice. Would you mind?”

Eager for a moment to clear his head, Marcus grabbed the bucket. “No problem.” The echo of your chuckle followed him as he rushed out the door.

“What is wrong with you, dude?” he whispered to himself as he strolled down the hall to the ice machine. “You don’t even know if this woman wants anything more than just reviewing the case. Calm the fuck down.”

Feeling a little calmer and more under control after his private pep talk, Marcus knocked on your door with the full ice bucket in hand. You let him in with a broad smile that nearly made his heart stop.

“Perfect.” Plucking the bucket from his hands, you returned to the makeshift kitchenette area to fill two cups with ice and water. Two glasses of cabernet were already sitting on the tiny table in the small designated sitting area of the hotel room.

Marcus joined you on the couch, case file in hand, seated close due to the limited space. You dove right in to discussing the case, easing his nerves. The pair of you compared the facts of the case, debating theories and potential connections. Without any physical evidence, you still didn’t have any viable suspects, which was incredibly frustrating for both of you.

“I’ve never had a case like this,” Marcus said. “It’s hard to believe that this could all relate to a myth about an ancient god. It feels weird even saying that aloud.”

“I know. It’s giving me Twilight Zone vibes.”

With the lack of viable suspects serving as a brick wall in furthering the investigation, conversation switched to other topics.

“You’re from New Jersey?” Marcus asked. “What brought you out here?”

“Yep, born and raised at the Jersey Shore,” you replied, that northeastern accent peeking through as you drank more wine. “Classic reason for relocating – I followed a guy, the one I told you a little about. We got married young and one day he woke up and decided he wanted a change of scenery. I followed along without argument, and we wound up out here. Biggest mistake of my life.”

“Ahh,” he said with a nod. “That asshole.”

“Yeah, that asshole.”

From what you told Marcus about your ex-husband, he knew the guy was a real piece of work. Classic narcissist who beat you down emotionally the entire time you were together. Marcus was happy that you kicked the guy to the curb two years ago and the divorce finalized last year. No one deserved to be treated like that, especially you.

“Are you going to stick around here now that’s all over with?” He found himself curious about your future plans.

Shaking your head, you laughed. “Hell no. I put in for a transfer already, for anywhere on the east coast closer to home. I’m no picky.”

Marcus perked up at that. The DC headquarters always had openings. He’d get to see you again if you were transferred there. “I could put in a good word for you, if you’d like. You’re a great agent from what I’ve seen so far.”

Ducking your head bashfully, you peeked at him through your lashes. “That’s pretty high praise coming from a director,” you deflected.

“I mean it, Jersey.” He kept his voice low, using your nickname for the first time, and watched in delight as you shuddered.

The air in the room shifted, sexual tension thick and nearly overpowering. Marcus watched as your pupils dilated, lust overtaking the previous sparkle. He gulped when your tongue darted out to lick your lips tantalizingly.

Shifting ever so closer, your scent washed over him. You smelled fucking delicious, hints of cocoa butter and salty sweat, reminding him of the beach. His shorts suddenly became tighter, his cock twitching to life. He wanted to devour you.

The next thing Marcus knew, your lips were pressed to his as you basically ripped the clothes from each other’s bodies, the now empty bottle of wine knocked from the table to the carpeted floor in the process. Despite the cool air pumping from the air conditioning, your skin felt hot to his touch.

Licking into your mouth, savoring the taste of you mixed with the bite of wine on your tongue, Marcus steered you backwards until your hamstrings bumped against the mattress. He eased you down onto the bed, detaching his lips from yours to take in the electrifying sight of your naked body splayed before him.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his fingertips tracing down your smooth skin slowly, teasingly from your neck to your toes.

Your eyes, blown wide with need, burned into his before dipping down to take in his naked body with a gasp. His cock bobbed eagerly as you stared.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Marcus said, his soft voice filled with awe, matching the wonder in his eyes.

“Me either,” you replied, “but I’m happy it is. You are so fucking gorgeous, Marcus.”

Marcus couldn’t help the blush that pinkened his cheeks. Reaching behind him to the bucket, he plucked a large ice cube from the slowly melting pile. His eyes remained locked on yours as he popped the frozen cube into his mouth, sucking lightly before his tongue pushed forward and his lips puckered as a portion of the ice cube stuck out.

The breath left you when he dipped his head down to run the cube along your clavicle and down across your breasts. Your nipples pebbled beneath the chilly wetness as Marcus directed the ice cube back and forth a few times. He watched delightedly as goosebumps peppered your skin when he moved the cube down your belly in a zigzag pattern.

“Oh, fuck.” Your chest heaved and fingers tightened their grip on the bedsheets when Marcus dipped further down, running the quickly melting cube over your mound and through your slit. The cold nearly shocking to the overwhelming heat of your labia.

Using his tongue to increase the pressure, Marcus circled the ice cube over your clit until you cried out, one hand loosening its grip on the sheets to tangle your fingers in his thick hair. He shifted, plunging the cube into your entrance, pushing as far as his tongue would extend, then leant back to watch your pussy suck the cube further until in melted into mere dribbles of water.

You laid there panting, eyes hooded and wanting, as Marcus dove back in, using his tongue to continue the work he started with the ice cube. He lapped and sucked at your clit, two thick fingers slipping inside you, until you became a blubbering mess, blurting out unintelligible words and moans, finally falling apart beneath his ministrations.

Marcus slurped at the evidence of your long overdue release, savoring the sweet, tangy taste of you. His hips thrust against the mattress of their own accord, his body seeking any sort of friction against his aching cock it could find.

“Your mouth is a lethal weapon, Marcus,” you said breathlessly, hands reaching under his shoulders to drag him up your body. “Now let’s see what you can do with your cock.”

His hair flopped forward over his forehead from your fingers tangling in it and he grinned in satisfaction at your comment. His boyish charm proved too much to handle, and you yanked his face down to yours, tongues tangling in a scorching kiss. You nibbled on his plump bottom lip between fervent kisses, savoring the plushness between your teeth.

Whining when he pulled away suddenly, your fingers grasping for purchase to pull him back, Marcus winked at you when he slid off the bed. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m coming right back.”

Digging in his shorts to find his wallet, Marcus pulled out a long-forgotten condom from the tri-fold leather and checked the date on the foil packaging to make sure it hadn’t expired. Content with the remaining half-life, he ripped the package open with his teeth and slid the latex material over his cock.

You beamed at him when he climbed back onto the bed. “I knew you were a smart man.”

Marcus slid up beside your body, turning you so your back pressed snug against his chest. “Safety first, baby. Wrap it before you tap it, right?”

Your laughter became strangled when he slid inside you, splitting you open on his cock. “Oh my god. You feel so good!” you cried when he began to move inside you after a long pause to let you adjust to the sheer size of him.

Marcus started at a slow pace, getting a feel for the way your walls tightened around him. Gripping the bed covers with your right hand, you reached your left hand up and around to tangle in his hair behind you. He picked up the pace as you tugged gently on his locks, his lips peppering your neck with soft, wet kisses.

When, at last, Marcus began pounding into you, you reached between your legs with your right hand to rub your clit. Despite the cool air blowing over your bodies, the heat between you had your skin glistening with sweat. You cried as Marcus hit a particularly pleasurable spot deep within you, his own moans morphing into grunts as you clamped down on him.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight around me. I can feel you clench every time I hit this spot.” His words were murmured into your ear, barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin. Marcus plunged forward to hit your g-spot, proving his point when you clenched tightly around him once again. “Yeah, just like that.”

You plunged clear over the precipice then, crying out his name and any number of praises as an orgasm overtook you. Marcus talked you through it, his voice like sugary syrup, while he never once let up on his thrusts. Minutes, hours later, he followed you into the overwhelming bliss with a shout of your name followed by a string of curses.

“That was amazing.” Marcus nuzzled your neck as his hips slowed, the last shots of his cum dribbling into the condom. “You are amazing.”

Lost for words, you just hummed in agreement. Knackered from the excessive heat, long day of investigative work, the alcohol, and the mind-blowing sex, you hovered on the edge of sleep while Marcus got up to dispose of the condom. He returned with a wet cloth and cleaned you up with tender dedication. Tossing the cloth aside, he paused, standing naked and uncertain next to the bed.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” you replied sleepily, tossing the covers down so you could both slide under them. “I hope you like to cuddle, Mister.”

Grinning at you, Marcus wrapped his arm around you, curving his body around yours. “You bet your ass I do.”

You both fell into an exhausted sleep feeling hopeful and satiated for the first time in a long time.

Waking up in Director Pike’s arms was not something you expected would happen on this case. You fantasized. You hoped. Sure, all of that. But you never, ever expected it would actually happen. But it did and it felt fucking incredible.

You already knew he was damn good at his job. It was impressive to see that his single-minded focus and massive talent carried over to his skills in the bedroom as well. You replayed the night before in your head as you showered, remembering with fondness all the ways Marcus surprised you, how cherished he made you feel, the sheer pleasure he brought you.

How were you supposed to focus on the case now when your mind was completely overcome with thoughts of Marcus. You were almost relieved when he slipped out of the room after sharing a cup of hotel room coffee with you. You weren’t sure you could keep your hands to yourself if he stayed much longer, the rumbled, sleepy look proving almost too adorable to resist.

Marcus met you in the hotel lobby, two large cups of iced coffee and a brown paper bag clutched in his hands an hour after waking up together. “Good morning, Jersey girl,” he greeted you with a wink, dark brown eyes sparkling in the soft morning light filtering through the windows.

You chuckled at the variation of your nickname, already knowing that would become his signature endearment for you. “Good morning, handsome. Long time, no see.”

His grin grew wider. “Come on. Let’s ride together. No sense in taking two cars anymore.” He handed you one of the iced coffees and the paper bag, pulling the keys to his SUV out of his pocket.

Clad in gray cargo shorts, blush polo shirt, and a pair of boat shoes, Marcus looked ready for a day spent on the water rather than investigating art theft. The sight made your mouth water and you gulped at the iced coffee. As he drove, you both munched on the bagels he picked up along with the coffees while waiting for you.

“I figured we’d start taking a look at some of these hot springs to get a feel for them and see if anything else in the clues pops out at us,” Marcus explained between bites. He always chewed with his mouth closed and waited until after he swallowed to speak. You loved a man with impeccably manners.

“Great idea. I put a list of them in the file.”

“I know,” he beamed at you. “I saw it last night, before… It’s what gave me the idea. Thought we’d start with La Paloma and work our way down the list. What do you think?”

You nodded, sitting back in the passenger seat contentedly. Much to your surprise, there wasn’t an ounce of awkwardness between you two after last night’s surprising turn of events. Everything felt natural, like it was meant to turn out this way and you basked in the effortless interactions between you and Marcus.

Marcus spoke to the manager upon your arrival at La Paloma Hot Springs & Spa and the gentleman gave you a quick tour of the facility before allowing the two of you to investigate on your own. You split up to cover more ground, the scent of mineral-rich water tickling your nose as you worked your way through the facility.

Searching the private soaking tubs, you ran your hands along the edges looking for evidence of hidden compartments that might contain the artifact. Still uncertain if that was what you were actually looking for, it didn’t hurt to search. When you found nothing, your focus shifted to the vintage décor including the old photographs hanging on the walls, looking for any signs or symbols that might be a clue.

An hour later, you and Marcus reconvened at the front desk, disappointed that you both came up empty, yet undeterred in your drive to figure out this case.

You visited a number of other hot springs, conducting the same kind of searches yet never finding additional clues or evidence.

“It’s like we’re missing something,” Marcus said as you both climbed into the SUV, burnt out and sweaty, after your latest search came up empty. You’d spent the entire day running from hot spring to hot spring across the small town to no avail.

“Yeah, but what could it be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not just any old hot spring? We need more to go on.”

Just then, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from the TCPD. Another painting stolen right under their noses – or rather, right behind the officer’s back as he turned around while patrolling one of the galleries. The thief had lightning-fast reflexes, apparently.

“Alright, thanks Chief. We’ll head over there now.” You ended the call and relayed the information to Marcus.

“This guy sure is brazen. I’ll give him that,” he lamented, carefully spinning the SUV around to head toward the latest crime scene.

“He’s got some balls, nicking a painting while an officer is standing right there. It’s like he’s begging to be caught.”

“That or he’s just a fucking lunatic.” Marcus met your gaze for a long moment after parking the vehicle. “Is it wrong that part of me hopes we don’t catch him too soon?”

Your heart thumped in your chest, lips quirking upwards into a shy smile. “No, not after last night…” you admitted. “We could always stay a few days after solving the case and explore this.” You gestured between the two of you.

Shutting off the car, Marcus bobbed his head. His previously styled hair fell across his forehead, the heat having worn away the product he used this morning. “I’d really like that.”

The TCPD officer met you at the door and led the way to the scene of the latest theft, his shoulders hunched in shame. “I never saw him; he was there and gone in seconds. Managed to leave this behind though, taped where the painting had been.”

Marcus accepted the paper, holding it up so you could read it.

Where the serpent bathes in earth’s warm embrace, beneath the soothing waters, the heart of the sun lies hidden.

“This message is different. Different, but the same. I mean… I don’t know what I mean,” you sighed frustratedly.

Marcus patted your shoulder in a manner appropriate for a professional audience. “No. I get what you mean. It’s tying the clues together in a different way. Giving us more hints at once.”

Heaving a sigh of your own, you nodded. What a great relief to feel understood. “Exactly.”

Conferring with the forensics team first, you and Marcus departed when they confirmed the thief left no trace evidence behind. No fibers, fingerprints, or hair. Nothing to clue you in on who the thief could be. Nothing, not even on the adhesive used to tape the clue to the wall or the paper itself. The perp was either lucky or extremely tidy.

Seated once again in the corner booth at Harry’s dingy pub, Marcus devoured his burger while you daintily nibbled at your fries. The extremely high temperature ruined your appetite. The case file sat open on the table as you placed sticky notes on a photocopy of the latest clue.

“’Where the serpent bathes’… that has to refer to the hot springs, right? And the serpent would symbolize this Quintessential guy?”

“Quetzalcoatl. The god’s name is Quetzalcoatl, for Christ’s sake,” Harry chimed in as he dropped off a fresh round of cold draft beers.

“Yeah, that guy,” you said, pointing a fry at Harry in thanks. Marcus laughed at your adorable ridiculousness. You made investigating this mind-boggling case fun.

“Right. And ‘in the earth’s warm embrace’ refers to the warm waters of the hot springs as well. That’s caused by geothermal activity, is that correct, Harry?” Marcus questioned.

The grizzled old barkeep lingered by your table, too caught up in his own curiosity to return to his duties. “Mmhmm, that’s what they say. I’m no rock scientist, mind.”

“You mean a geologist?” you chirped, a shit-eating grin gracing your pretty face.

“Yes, you mouthy little shit. Don’t sass me or I won’t help solve this case,” Harry grumbled. For a moment, Marcus worried you would be offended by the old man, but your tinkling laughter convinced him otherwise.

Marcus stifled a laugh when you rolled your eyes playfully and re-focused his attention on the clue. “That could be the earth’s warm embrace part, then. And ‘beneath the soothing waters’ refers again to the hot springs.”

“Uh huh,” Harry chimed in again, pulling the case file closer to him, aged eyes squinting to read your notes. Neither of you would normally let a civilian get so involved in a case, but Harry proved himself integral to solving this particularly challenging and unusual case. Pointing an arthritic finger to the final line of today’s clue, beneath the soothing waters, he added, “It refers to the artifact being hidden there, beneath one of the hot springs.”

Harry slipped into the booth on your side, and you flashed Marcus a smile. The old man was fully invested now. Thankfully the bar was empty but for a few regulars who could help themselves as far as Harry was concerned.

“Ok, so to summarize, we know the hot springs are involved,” you stated, processing the facts aloud as well as in your head. “And we know that the artifact is hidden beneath one of them. The question we’ve been chasing all day is which one, right? So, do any of the known hot springs have a serpent symbol or painting or something along those lines associated with it?”

Marcus shook his head as you flipped through pages of notes. “Definitely didn’t see any in the ones we checked out today.”

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy, you two idiots will be my age by the time you figure this out,” Harry stood from the booth, his voice gruff with annoyance, though whether that was from dealing with the two of you or the effort it took to stand with aged, arthritic bones was anyone’s guess. “You’ll want to check out Riverbend Hot Springs in the morning. You’re welcome.”

Mouths agape, you both watched the cantankerous old man shuffle back to the bar, grumbling to himself the whole way.

“Did he just solve the case for us?” Marcus asked when his gaze shifted back to you.

“I think so,” you laughed. “Thank fucking goodness. My eyes were starting to cross from looking at this file so much.”

Looking it up on his phone, Marcus confirmed that the Riverbend Hot Springs were closed until morning. Knowing their work was done for the day, he flashed you a heated look. “Want to go back to my room? Maybe cool off in the shower?”

Marcus had a nicer room than yours, the walk-in shower encased in glass and large enough to fit a few people. The perks of being a director, you guessed.

You barely glimpsed at the room before Marcus backed you against the already deadbolted door. His mouth pressed against yours, tongue dancing along the seam of your lips, begging for entry. You let him in eagerly, tongues tangling and teeth clashing with urgency. His hands were everywhere, stripping away your clothes and sliding against already bare skin in turn.

Once you both gave into the spark, stoking the fire into flames last night, the want turned into a blazing inferno that neither of you could extinguish. Not that you wanted to, anyway. No, you were content to burn to a crisp as the fire raged.

Marcus had you stripped naked within minutes, his mouth having never left your own in the process. Eager to return the favor from last night, you sunk to your knees, undoing his belt and shorts as you stared up at him. Marcus tore off his shirt while you shoved his shorts and boxer briefs down his slim hips to pool at his feet.

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus moaned as you wrapped your hand around his hardened length, testing the girth and weight of it in your grip. You tugged playfully a few times, getting to know the feel of him. Still staring into his lust blown eyes, you slowly leaned forward to glide the head of his cock around your plump lips before slipping him inside your mouth. A delicious whine fell from his lips when your tongue lapped at the little droplet of precum without breaking eye contact.

Not wanting to torture him unnecessarily, you began to move, taking more of his cock into your mouth until he bumped the back of your throat. Bobbing your head, you soaked his cock with your saliva, sucking every now and then to increase the sensation. Your left hand tugged the base of him where your mouth couldn’t quite reach, twisting with each upward stroke to further enhance his pleasure, as your right hand massaged his balls.

Panting heavily above you, Marcus slapped his palms against the door to support himself as you continued sucking his cock. Experimenting with how far you could take him, you hollowed your cheeks, easing farther down his length and breathed through your nose.

“Jersey girl… ungh. Please, I’m gonna come down that pretty little throat if you don’t stop.” You could feel his thigh muscles flex and twitch with the effort of not blowing his load down your throat as he stuttered out the words.

Taking pity on the man, you eased back until his cock audibly popped out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you until Marcus severed the link by stepping backwards on shaky legs.

“You are too good at that, my little minx. Come here.” Marcus helped you up, leading you into the shower once you regained your balance. He kissed you deeply as the cool water from the shower head cascaded over you both.

The water felt good on your overheated skin and Marcus pressed you backwards against the sturdy glass. Hiking a leg up around his waist with one hand, he gently cradled the side of your face in the other. Your gazes locked as he reached around your thigh and teased your clit.

“So wet for me, my Jersey girl.” Already on edge from sucking his cock, you were drenched and ready for him. “Did sucking my cock turn you on that much, my Jersey girl?” You mewled and, with the slightest shift of his hips, Marcus notched his cock at your entrance, feeding you inch by inch until your walls gripped his entire length tightly. “Fuck, you feel like heaven.”

Droplets of water rained down your bodies as he thrusted into you, your lips pressed open-mouthed against each other, noses bumping, exchanging breaths and moans without actually kissing. The stretch was intense but pleasurable, and you could feel every ridge of him inside you.

You suddenly realized why that was.

“Shit, we forgot a condom,” you said in between moans, your hands grasping his plump ass to make certain he didn’t stop.

Marcus showed no signs of stopping, his hips almost seemed to pick up the pace. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no!” you gasped; eyes fluttering shut as he nudged that spot inside you just right. “Please don’t ever fucking stop.”

“Ok,” he breathed against your lips. “I’m clean and it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.”

“Same,” you replied. “And I’m on birth control, so please, come inside me.”

Marcus groaned deeply at that, his head shifting so he could nip at your neck, soothing the sting with little kitten licks of his tongue. Pulling back, he murmured, “Turn around.”

You did so, whining as he slipped out of you. With a gentle hand, Marcus pushed your upper body against the glass and pulled your hips closer to him so your back arched perfectly. Your tits were pressed up against the glass wall of the shower and, just beyond it, you could see your reflections in the mirror. Only a slight mist of steam swirled in the air from the temperature of the water, and it didn’t hinder your view at all as Marcus closed in behind you, slipping his cock back where it belonged.

You watched your reflections, mesmerized, as he fucked into you, his wet hair flopping over his forehead when he bent forward to kiss along your shoulders and neck. Your hands came up on either side of your head to brace yourself against the glass, hoping that the strength of his thrusts wouldn’t cause it to shatter.

Marcus reached a hand around your thigh, slipping between your legs to pluck at your clit as you fucked you. Every single cell in your body felt aflame, ready to burst at the pleasure racing through you. It didn’t take long for you to explode, eyes squinted shut as you keened.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. Come on my cock, my little Jersey girl. I can feel your cum gushing around me. Fuck, baby.” Once again, Marcus talked you through it in the soft voice of his. He continued thrusting as your walls trembled around him, driving him right over the edge after you, rope and rope of cum splashed your walls as he made the loveliest sex sounds in your ear.

You stayed like that, pressed up against the glass with the weight of Marcus leaning against you, chests heaving, until you both came back down from the high. Taking a few minutes to actually wash the day off each other, you settled on the bed wrapped in towels afterwards.

The two of you talked long into the night and, unable to keep your hands or mouths off each other, you had sex twice more before falling asleep.

Unable to come to an agreement on whether backup would be necessary at this point, you and Marcus finally decided to bring one officer to investigate the Riverbend Hot Springs with you. An extra pair of eyes could be useful, on that you both agreed.

Known for its scenic outdoor pools on the banks of the Rio Grande, visitors usually flocked to Riverbend. The facility not only had the hot springs, but hotel rooms and spaces for recreational vehicles as well. The manager was less than pleased when Marcus informed him that any guests present would have to stay in their rooms and out of both the common and private pools during the search. The last thing the investigation needed was public interference or contaminated evidence.

Searching the private pools first to appease the guests and resort manager, Marcus swiped his hand over his sweaty face when you found nothing.

“Let’s check the common pools now,” he sighed, wondering if it would be another fruitless adventure.

Another two hours of searching – lifting stones, moving decorative displays, going inside the pools themselves, even going so far as to request a shovel from the grounds crew to poke around in the landscaping – turned up nothing.

“At least there’s only one pool to go,” you said, trying to stay positive about finding something. “This has gotta be the one, right?”

“Let’s hope,” Marcus replied. Drenched in a mixed of sweat and mineral water, he wanted nothing more than to slip between cool sheets with you and an ice-cold drink. This case sucked.

Located at the far end of the property, overlooking the Rio Grande, a rock wall encased the final pool for support given the topography on the side along the river dipped lower. Marcus directed the officer to start at one end while he joined you in working your way up from the riverbank. Thorough in your search, you left literally left no stone unturned. One particular large slab placed in the landscaping next to the pool like a decorative display required your and Marcus’ strength combined to lift, and you gasped when you saw what sat in hiding beneath it.

“Is that a fucking trap door?” Marcus asked with a grunt as he glanced down and pushed the rock slab to the side.

“Yeah, it fucking is.” Bending down to open it, Marcus stopped you.

“Wait a second, Jersey girl. We don’t want to just go rushing down there.” He called the officer over for a quick chat, asking him to find the manager and see if anyone knew anything about where the trapdoor led.

Minutes later, the manager and resort engineer joined the group. No one knew a damn thing about what they found. It wasn’t depicted on the as-built drawings or any other schematics the engineer had on file. That did not bode well. Turning to the officer, you asked him to call for back up.

“We’ll head down to scope it out. Come down once backup gets here. In the meantime, please keep the guests away from this area,” Marcus directed the officer and manager before turning to you. “Ready, Jersey girl?”

Pulling your service weapon from its holster, you nodded confidently. “With you at my side, I’m ready for anything.”

Marcus flashed that boyish grin before wrenching the trapdoor open. As suspected, narrow steps carved into the stone descended down into darkness. Before Marcus could ask for one, the facility engineer handed him a flashlight.

Stepping carefully down the steps with the flashlight held high in one hand and his service weapon in the other, Marcus descended into the dark unknown with you right on his heels. At the bottom, a pathway led through more rock, dim light visible in the distance. You reach out while walking along the pathway to find the rock is surprisingly warm.

“I expected it to be cool to the touch,” you murmured, not wanting to make too much noise in case someone or something waited in the shadows.

“Hmm?”

“The walls,” you pointed when Marcus turned around. “They’re warm.”

Directing the beam of light in the direction you pointed, Marcus touched the back of his hand to the wall and looked back at you with a questioning brow. “How?”

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrugged.

“Latent heat from the surface?” he took a guess.

“Your guess is as good as mine. We’re below ground deep enough that it shouldn’t be this warm.”

Marcus continued on down the path, the rock walls growing warmer the farther you progressed. Finally, you turned a corner into a dimly lit chamber, the air filled with oppressive heat making it hard to breathe. You both scanned the room for threats, finding none. The chamber was oddly free of spider webs or bugs or people, aside from the two of you, but a pool of water bubbled inside a ring in the stone floor. Above the pool, an abnormally large, fiery opal appeared to float in the air, the glow from it the only source of light in the chamber aside from the flashlight in Marcus’ hand.

“What the fuck?” you questioned, confused as all hell why the gem just floated in air. “I’m getting some real X-Files type vibes and I DO NOT like it.”

Marcus couldn’t help the twitch of his lips even though he was just as confused as you. “This must be the Flame of Quetzalcoatl.”

“Ya think?” Your nerves made you snarky, a trait Marcus found profoundly adorable and endearing.

Stepping closer to the artifact, Marcus shielded his eyes from the fiery glow. He reached out with one long finger, nearly touching the object when the grinding sound of rock against rock reverberated through the chamber. Jerking back instinctually, both you and Marcus drew your pistols on the sudden intruder.

“Who the fuck are you?” you blurted at the man, your nerves shot to shit, your FBI training the only thing holding you together at that point.

Wild-haired, with oddly composed attire, the man practically vibrated with energy, a glint of insanity in his eerily green eyes. Under one arm, he carried another landscape painting, likely just stolen from another gallery. As if by magic or something equally befitting the utterly odd nature of this entire case, the other stolen paintings appeared, strategically placed along the rock walls rounding the chamber.

“I really don’t like this, Marcus,” you said through gritted teeth. His concerned gaze met yours briefly. “Me either, Jersey.”

It happened, as these things tend to do, suddenly and unexpectedly. The man lunged forward, dropping the painting without thought, and reached a trembling, emaciated hand toward the artifact. Marcus matched the man’s movement, reaching for him rather than the floating, glowing gem. In the process, a glass pedestal you didn’t even know was there, nearly invisible but surely the reason the artifact appeared to be floating in air, toppled over, sending the artifact flying.

You watched, awestruck and frozen in shock, as Marcus tackled the crazy man to the hard ground and the artifact shattered against the rock wall, simultaneously. Almost immediately, the temperature plunged until a damp coolness filled the formerly stuffy chamber, and the man shrieked in despair.

“No! No! No! You’ve ruined everything!” The man continued screeching. Moments later, TCPD officers rushed into the stone room, a few assisting Marcus with securing the thief in cuffs.

Among the backup that just arrived, the police chief stepped up to your side as you gave Marcus a hand in getting back on his feet. “Strangest thing,” the thick-bearded, squat man in uniform said, “the temperature dropped at least twenty-five degrees out of nowhere, just as we started making our way down here. Am I to believe it had something to do with whatever happened down here?”

You and Marcus shared a look before shrugging at the police chief. “I have no clue what even happened down here,” Marcus admitted. Tilting his chin in the crazy man’s direction, he added, “Your boys will bring him in for questioning? We’d like a shot at him, too.”

“Of course. We’ll get him processed. Come by the station whenever you’re finished up here.” The chief followed the officers escorting the man from the chamber, leaving behind a forensics team to gather evidence.

Standing above the shattered artifact, you sighed. “How the hell do I write this up in a report?”

“Very carefully and creatively,” Marcus replied with a smirk.

The interrogation didn’t take long, the man caving like a deck of cards in the wind. His name was Edmund Fawkes, a local starving artist driven mad by the excessive heat. Already obsessed with ancient mythology and local lore, he discovered the hidden chamber containing Quetzalcoatl’s Flame and, seeking the power and prosperity described in the legends, decided to take possession of it by appeasing the ancient god with landscape paintings.

It didn’t work, clearly, but Edmund was relentless in his insanity, continuing his thievery until you and Marcus caught him.

None of it made sense and there were so many things that could be attributed to entirely coincidental circumstances that you didn’t really care how the pieces fit together. The thief had been caught, the paintings returned to the appropriate galleries largely undamaged, and the town was no longer in the clutches of a deadly heat wave. That was all that really mattered.  

On your way out of the police station, the case solved as far as the bureau was concerned, you turned to Marcus. “How long are you sticking around?”

Gazing at you with those chocolate puppy eyes, his lips twitched into a grin. “I have several weeks of PTO saved up. Figured I’d use some of that. Maybe all of it if I have a reason to.”

You grinned back at him. “I’m sure we could find a reason for that.”

An hour later, the sun dipping past the desert horizon, you found yourselves naked and neck deep in the soothing mineral water of a private hot springs pool. Given that business was completed, you checked out of the hotel the bureau set you both up in and reserved a room at the best resort in town for a couple days of relaxation.

“I’m going to miss this odd little town, especially Harry and his dingy pub,” Marcus said, pulling you closed to his side as you soaked in the soothing water.

“Me, too. I’m going to miss you most, though. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, both professionally and otherwise,” you admitted, leaning your head against his bare shoulder.

Marcus stilled for a moment before tightening his hold on you. “Why don’t you come back to DC with me?”

“What?” Your head tilted back to meet his eyes.

“You said you put in for a transfer back to the east coast, right?” You nodded and he continued. “Well, come back with me and we’ll have that transfer fast tracked. I’m certain there’s a position for you in DC. We won’t be on the same team, but that’s probably a good thing.”

You giggled at the boyish grin he flashed you. “If you’re sure, I’m game. I just don’t want you to feel like we’re rushing into anything.”

“Pssh, rushing, smushing. I’ve waited long enough to find someone like you. Now that I have, I’m not letting you go,” Marcus insisted. Gesturing between you, he added, “I mean it. There’s something amazing here, I know it. We can leave in a few days, spend a week or two exploring the city and each other before getting back to work.”

At a loss for a worthy response, you pressed your lips against his. The soft kiss quickly turned heated as you spun, straddling his lap, with your hands gripping the stone edge of the pool. Marcus ran his fingertips down the slick skin of your bare back as you squirmed into place, his cock swelling to life at the feel of you above, against, around him.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to ride you yet,” you murmured against his lips, grinding your bare pussy down on him.

“Now’s your chance, Jersey girl,” Marcus gasped through a moan. “Take me and use me, baby.”

Overheated despite the contrasting bite of cool air on your damp skin and warm water engulfing half your body, you eased yourself down onto his cock. You’d never get used to the exquisite stretch as he split you open. Drawing out the anticipation, you slid down his length with agonizing slowness, eliciting delicious whines from Marcus.

“Don’t torture me, baby. Please,” he begged to no avail. Peppering his handsome face with kisses, you kept the pace slow and torturous until he writhed beneath you.

At last, you took his full length inside you and started to move, bouncing eagerly on his cock with your head thrown back in pleasure. Marcus’ eyes stared at your breasts, bobbing along the water line and glistening from splashes of the mineral water as you moved on him. Mesmerized, he could look nowhere else, and his fingers shifted to pluck at the hardened peaks of your nipples.

The air temperature continued to drop as night set in, steam rising up from the warm water of the pool, dancing along your skin in beautiful swirls of water vapor. The clear, starry sky the perfect backdrop to your love making – for that’s what it was now, so much more than sex this time as you gave your whole self over to this wonderful, unexpected man who changed your life in a matter of days.

Overwhelmed with feelings, you keened as his cock nudged at all the right placing, your clit stimulated by grinding on his lap. “Fuck, Marcus. I’m gonna cum.”

Marcus thrust his hips upward at that statement, eager to drive you straight over the cliff into that beautiful abyss. “Do it, baby. Come all over my cock, my beautiful Jersey girl.”

Always good at following instructions, you did just that. Your eyelids slipped closed as you spasmed around him, head thrown back in ecstasy, his name falling like a prayer from your lips.

“That’s it, just like that,” Marcus crooned, pressing soothing kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re strangling my cock, baby. Gonna make me come too, sexy girl.”

A few more erratic thrusts upward and Marcus came with a fury, cock pulsing with rope after rope of his spend deep inside you. Breathless and exhausted, you clung to each other until shivers settled in from the plunging temperature.

“Let’s get inside, my Jersey girl. We’ll clean up, climb under the covers, and cuddle while we make plans for the future.”

fin

[tyran-the-tyranical]

I keep seeing people bringing up Raphael’s line about Mol and are coming out with (in my opinion) a little bit of extreme takes.

“What a lovely specimen she is a blushing Apple begging to be plucked”

Firstly, this is just gross and predatory behaviour regarding Mol, just not in the way people are claiming.

He calls her a blushing apple and what he means by this is that she stands out - he sees potential in her and he’s planning on plucking that and exploiting it to his own whims. Of course blushing seems to have its own connotations but in relation to the apple analogy it makes sense. The sentence in itself is very disgusting and gross, but not because it gives off “pedo” vibes, it’s because he’s being predatory but not in any sexual way, there’s nothing sexual about it, literally nothing.

It’s gross because that’s what devils do, they prey on the weak, sick, elderly and children, the most vulnerable in a society because they’re easy prey (in their minds, etc) he’s also may be planning on grooming her presumably into a future position that would serve him later on (like what Korilla does now), yet might I add there’s nothing sexual about it.

People also bring up Gortash as an example but theres also nothing to add with that either. Gortash was abused by Nubaldin (who is an employee of Raphael’s), who says it himself that he would beat Gortash until he was sobbing, there is no mention of Raphael partaking in this let alone any other sorts of abuse (tho he’s not innocent here either, negligent in the very least)

Also, when looking at Gortash’s design it’s clear he holds some sort of admiration for Raphael, he copies his outfit somewhat with the devil’s accessories and such, which would be strange if any abuse by Raphael happened.

Raphael is a devil and if we even look at his father, who in canon, takes good aligned children/babies and eats them so perhaps the leap to something just as sinister isn’t too crazy to come to. Yet, at the same time there is no evidence of this whatsoever other than vibes which is a weak argument in the first place.

His line about Mol is purposely made to be uncomfortable and weird, Karlach even comments on it being such.

“please let me smack this creep”

The line is supposed to show how predatory and deplorable he is, but where I think people are getting confused is that they think him being predatory automatically means he is a pedo, which just isn’t the case. No where else in the game is it stated he has an affinity for specifically children and especially not in that way.

Karlach I think even says more about it after the conversation on how she sees mol going down the same route she did, as in someone taking advantage of their naïveté but not sexually, just that they’re going to use them to their own ends and screw them over in the long run, I think if Karlach thought he was being sexual about it she would’ve been a bit more pissed or comment about it at the very least (more than just calling him a creep lol)

Like I know I might be crazy for this comparison but this feels like when ppl were saying William Afton is a pedo, on the basis of him being (literally) predatory around kids and vibes - you can be predatory and not a pedo, the two aren’t synonymous.

I also think it’s kinda disingenuous to push away criticism by saying you’re only defending Raphael bc ur attracted to him etc, I can like his character and still think he’s a shitty disgusting person, as well as having critical thoughts on that matter, especially since I love my girl hope (justice for hope fr) and I will most likely always kill Raphael in my playthroughs too since he’s such a lil freak anyway.

I really think it’s just a total lack of media literacy, just because these characters are preying on kids weaknesses/vulnerabilities (luring them into selling their souls or grooming them to work for you in the future) does not equate to them being pedophiles. Is it gross and deplorable behaviour? YES, that was the point, but does that mean they’re pedophiles? NO.

The line is gross, it’s supposed to be, and I understand if someone’s first thought might be is he a yknow, but to stick with that and to boldly claim he’s something that there isn’t any evidence for is wild to me. Call him a predator, a groomer, murderer, a literal devil, all things he literally is lol.

Look maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m being wild, I’m not trying to defend him, he’s disgusting and literally evil lol, yet I still think it’s a misjudgement of his character, since there’s other evil characters in game but that doesn’t mean you can just add every evil thing a person can be into them, like minthara, even Gortash, orin or ketheric or whatever, they have their limits, (tho orin is probably the one with the fewest limitations lol) but if you’re going to call anyone a pedo have it be Mizora, least she grooms Wyll and follows through with disgusting touching (everytime she’s licking him in the promotion, EW, tho that’s not in game so debatable)

I get that with such a clearly and obviously disgusting line that that might be the conclusion people will automatically come to but at the same time I just ask that you do some more thinking on the matter, like sure he’s just a lil pixel dude but at the same time it’s a bit worrying to see how quick people will confidently jump and claim he’s a pedophile.

Anyway, media literacy is dead and we’ve killed it.

[sunlightmurdock]

AETERNA | Two

ONE | MASTERLIST

SNYOPSIS: the show begins.

WARNINGS: smoking; the fic takes place in the 70s and so 70s era things will happen; mentions of minor character death; this fic has mature themes and is intended for adults, minors pls dni. spooky stuff. word count: 7.2k

…

On days that Billy works late at the shop, or just can’t find time to entertain your whims, you walk home from the Pines. It’s not too bad of a journey, you’re lucky that Fred and Joan didn’t pick a place too far out.

If you were to cross the creek at the bend, right outside of work, it would shave a good twenty minutes off of your journey. In the interest of keeping your Keds white and your socks dry, you take the longer route and walk down West Avenue.

Past the laundromat and Miss Jessie’s hair salon. Along the grass verge, sticking to the side of the road where there’s no footpath. People drive safer this close to town. Usually.

Early afternoon and you’re thinking about that evening.

Olive was supposed to come along with you tonight, but she blew you off to go fool around behind the old firehouse with this older guy she’s seeing. Twenty-eight, a father-to-be, and he still gets his kicks in the bushes like a teenager. Gnarly.

It’s for the best, though; your mom doesn’t like Olive too much. Joan wasn’t ever too strict with you — she let you scrape your knees and muddy your Sunday Bests, a couple minutes after curfew here and there never hurt. But to her, someone like Olive is someone treading water and bound to go under.

In Olive, you have found the big sister you had always wanted, but you wouldn’t go under with her. You’re too smart for that, your father says.

Without Olive, it’ll just be you and Georgie tonight. You just hope that he doesn’t get the willies and make you leave before it’s over. Fred would probably be pretty upset if you did wind up coming home without his only surviving son.

Wesley’s pictures are still up around the house, and his room remains untouched down the hall from yours, but he’ll have been gone five years in July. He doesn’t come up in conversation much anymore.

In another life, he would be driving tonight. You’d get shotgun and radio privileges, Georgie would get to be a real little brother and be banished to the backseat. You’d get your kicks chasing after gold-skinned West-Coasters and Wes would do what he always had and man the fort.

“You’re back!” Georgie greets you — half scaring you to death — by leaping down from the second stair and onto the runner by the door. You wobble in the direction you had come, the screen door clapping against your backside and deciding for you that you’re staying inside. “I’ve been waiting forever!”

“Yeah? Forever?” You drop your bag by the door and point a finger between the stripes on his t-shirt, right into that ticklish spot against his ribs. When he grins, he looks like your big brother had. He’s not much like Wes, though. It’s better that way.

“Man, and now I have to wait for you to get dressed!” Georgie realises, throwing his head back in complaint. “What time are we leaving?”

“Little after five,” You say and step around him as he spirals to keep with you, glancing down at the chunky brown wristwatch you use primarily to time Mr. Wheelan’s phone conversations with his mother against your smoke breaks. “Hour and a half. If that’s alright with you.”

He lingers at the bottom of the stairs while you hasten for your room. An uncertain frown works its way onto his freckled face as his stomach rumbles under the confines of his Sears’ Best t-shirt. “… Before supper?”

“Fred gave me money — we’ll get something on the way.”

From the downstairs hall, he curls his fist into a ball and celebrates under his breath. You wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway, your fingers already dropping the needle onto your still inky, sexy new Fleetwood Mac record.

After a month and a bit of trying, you had nabbed it at a store a town over. Atwood’s excuse for a record store rarely had the new stuff.

Sharp, fast-guitar strums and Lindsay Buckingham’s wicked vocals. There’s nothing better. Well, not yet. Someday soon, Lindsay Buckingham will be on the guest list to one of the lavish parties you’ll throw. By then, you won’t sing as embarrassingly as you do in your childhood bedroom.

Making your way through buttons and fastenings and stockings and Keds, you hop and dance to lyrics you haven’t quite memorized yet while shedding the candy-striped version of yourself for someone far superior.

Wiggling your hips and nodding your head as you pick through your closet, you’re searching for a safe middle ground in a sea of far from between. You’ll need something that Georgie won’t snake to Joan about, and something California at the same time. That’s where they’re from, you figure. With tans and smiles like that, it just seems like the reasonable guess.

Your skin-tight bell-bottoms are the obvious choice. Georgie can’t nark on you for jeans, but then again, these are so much more than jeans. They’re heaven sent. You’d spent your first Pines paycheck on them, and they were worth every penny.

The record plays on through tracks two, three, four and into “Go Your Own Way” while you’re still making up your mind on how to decorate your top half. Red would be your usual pick to stand out, but you’re going to be surrounded by a sea of red so that’s out. Green would make you stick out like a Christmas tree. Yellow works, you guess, in a McDonalds kind of way.

There’s no need for an alarm clock. By track six, Georgie is trying your doorknob and reminding you promptly that it’s a little after five. Fred installed that bolt lock on your door a little over a year ago. It keeps your brother out in the hallway. Your wristwatch, discarded, confirms that it’s exactly six minutes after five. That means time for make-up is over and you really need to find a shirt.

“We still have time for burgers, right?” Georgie bounds down the stairs ahead of you with reckless abandon and lacking coordination, slipping on the rug and catching himself on the stair rail.

“If you tie your laces in less than ten minutes.” Your answer is purely to tease him. You’re uncertain about the denim waistcoat you were forced to pick, but the jeans save it. Your new leather boots will make it.

As you zip them up your calves, Georgie races past you, almost banging into the front door as he wrestles it open. As he tears outside, you notice his feet halfway jammed into his sneakers, wobbling with each step. “I’ll tie ‘em in the car!”

Joan stops, wincing through her view from the dining room window as her overconfident little boy steps onto his own lace and tumbles into the door of the family station wagon.

“Nice going, Airhead!” You call out, turning your head mid-jibe to find your mother watching you. Her face flattens sternly, but she decides her priorities lie with making sure her airhead son picks himself out of the dirt okay.

The screen door rattles behind you as you jog down the steps and Georgie scrambles to his feet, brushing off his blue jeans.

“Wave bye to Mom.” You remind him, waving sweetly at the dining room window as you unlock the car and slink into the driver’s seat.

He stands straight and grins, cheeks dimpled as he waves toward the window.

The old radio system crackles to a start, and Joan watches from the dining room window as you reverse it down the driveway and pull out onto the main road.

The sky sits between purple and blue, darkening like a bruise as the station wagon follows the winding country roads that stretch out towards the O’Malley farm. It sits between mountain foothills, on the verge of Cole County, almost in Martock County — country club central.

In the late afternoon, your brother is buzzing. He can barely contain his excitement, or his singing voice despite you making him promise to stop exactly six miles back. He shoots a gleaming look up at you, grinning as he holds onto his vanilla shake like it’s a Pulitzer Prize. Fast food, his favorite flavor shake, and a trip to the realm of the unknown all in one night.

He’s going to have a lot to talk about come Miss Lindsay’s class Monday morning.

You plan to have plenty to talk about Monday morning, too. I.e. the dirt on those guys you spotted out by airport road; you saw ‘em first, and Olive is, in some regards, spoken for — so they’re all yours for now. At least one of them must be single. The guy with the mustache had a girl in his passenger seat, after all. But she didn’t seem to want to hit you for drooling all over him, so either she’s a Martian or she says he’s fair game.

“There it is, I see it!” Georgie declares, spotting the glowing Ferris wheel through a break in the trees. Your stomach twists, a giddy excitement toying at your nerve endings. You play it cool, shooting him a knowing smile, tugging the wheel to a slow left.

The O’Malley farm is the biggest in the area, threatening to be the oldest thing around too. Of its acres and acres of land, the circus has been allotted a four acre space at the forefront, just off the road.

You were here once for a Fourth of July fireworks show. You’d spilled mustard on your new white jeans. Your older brother had put you up on his shoulders and you’d forgotten how sad you were, lost in a sea of red, white and blue sparks.

Georgie lights up with the foreground, his jaw going slack as he stares out at the sea of sounds and colours ahead of him. Sure, it’s Saturday night but this place is packed. The designated span of grass is filled with Atwood’s car and truck collection; you do as Fred would want, and leave the station wagon at the end of the row. It’ll be easier to get out later.

It’s all neon around here. Purple lingers in the darkening sky, the dirt and the grass dry and the air brisk. Lights and screams overpower the song playing over the radio. The same one you’d heard out on Airport Road. Electricity fizzles in your stomach the way static feels on your fingertips when you reach for the television screen.

“Can we get cotton candy?”

Your head turns. Your gaze flickers downward. You eyeball the emptied cup, the now missing vanilla shake, and then look back at your brother’s ecstatic face. His feet kick uncontrollably in the footwell. Your lips purse, as if to consider the proposal. Guitar plays on around you, all electric like the feeling in your stomach.

“Yeah… we’ll see,” You cut the ignition and grab your purse from the passenger side footwell. With the engine, the radio dies too, and the song stops abruptly. The familiar guitar riff cuts out before you even remember where you’ve heard it before. “Let’s get our tickets first.”

Though, it might be kind of a fun joke to get him all hopped up on sugar and take him back home to kill Fred’s Saturday Night Movie Marathon. His VHS collection is unrivaled amongst the dads of Atwood.

Georgie is absolutely not, under any circumstances, allowed to get his grubby little paws on a single one of those tapes. Not because they’re dirty, or scary — but because Georgie likes to understand the mechanics of how things come apart and Fred prefers his belongings intact.

Your eyes are drawn to every corner of your peripheral, your boots tracking through dry dirt path. One hand on Georgie’s shoulder, you keep note that he’s still with you as your eyes explore. Dirt spills into grassland and you’re off the path; you just aim for the centre.

The fairground roars around you, hitting the peak of Saturday night excitement, carnival games singing and rattling around you and the carousel singing out dead ahead. Lights and games whir wildly around you, it feels like you’re still hearing that electric riff even now it’s gone.

“Can we go on the Ferris wheel?” Georgie tugs at your forearm, barely audible over the thrum of the whirring generator beside you. A shrieking scream tears your attention from him. To your far right, there’s a Rotor ride — a giant, spinning green cage that sticks you to the wall with one of Newton’s laws. If your eighth grade teacher was hotter, you’d know which one.

“If you’ll ride that one with me.” You point a gel-polished fingertip toward the spinning ride. Georgie shifts a bit, and fiddles with his hands. He’s eleven this year, getting too old to be chickening out of fairground rides.

“Alright.” He agrees without nodding, or really even moving. Your wristwatch is still on your bed at home, but with all the crowds out here, you know you must have time. Your hand presses between his shoulder blades, carrying him with you as you start towards the spinning ride.

Fifty cents later and you’re looking across at him, each of your backs pressed flat against the flimsy, green-painted metal. He reaches out for your hand and squeezes his eyes shut. You turn your head towards the lilac hue and inhale; buttered popcorn and sugar-sweet candy floss filling your senses.

“Smell that?” You ask him, squeezing your fingers around his. He peeks one eye open, his nose wrinkling. He smells it too, the sweet scent in the air. The sky’s coloured like it’s full of it, lighter than usual because of all the sugar. “No one’s ever been afraid while eating candy floss.”

And he stumbles off, feeling like he’s still spinning in circles and regretting that big vanilla shake a little bit, but grinning. The safety of being with a big sister isn’t something you ever grow out of. He looks up at you, your hand on his shoulder.

Your hair whips around you as you follow him off of the ride, still laughing at the way he’d shrieked. Your eyes crinkle at the edges and your knees angle towards each other like you’re laughing so hard you might pee, your laugh is far reaching.

The eyes on you, though amused, turn away as quickly as they’d found you. The feeling lingers anyway and you turn, looking through the crowds, searching for the attention you feel. Your instincts are good, but your eyes catch on the wrong thing. Your admirer has already turned in the other direction.

The sky has darkened sometime since you stepped onto the ride. It verges; safe, summer lilac bloom and tinged toward the color of a fresh bruise. The lights around are so bright that the O’Malley farmland looks like it’s being consumed, fading into the dark around it.

To the right side of the Big Top is a rectangular booth with a helpfully illuminated TICKETS sign hanging above, and a man inside shouting the same word on repeat with different varying offers.

His sights land on you. Something sudden, mechanical, almost. His gaze is stiff and unwavering, eyelids peeled back, irises black. Immediately, you feel watched. Not like before, not something instinctual that had made you turn to look.

It feels like even the sky up above notices, the sky skulking towards that kind of blue named after the darkest point of the night.

Wearing a black button-up shirt with a red waistcoat, he’s the only person around that you can see in a uniform. His face is a grease-paint white and there’s a red smile painted across his lips. They stretch back to reveal straight, white teeth, bared like an animal. Then, they curl at the edges and become something more natural — something closer to a smile.

“Show’s about to start! Sales close in the next five minutes, folks! Get your tickets!” He calls out like he’s looking right through you, even though you’re walking right for him now.

Steadied, no longer spinning, Georgie stares in awe, his neck craned all the way back as he watches the Ferris Wheel carriages rock and wobble. Safe with his big sister, he’s not looking. You curl your fingers into the back of his shirt, losing the sinister, greased-red smile in the crowd for a second as you reach for your purse with your other hand.

The bodies pass by and there he is again, watching you once again, but up closer he’s not so scary at all. You can see the way the paint is brushed onto his skin, and his eyes aren’t really black but more of a deep brown. His lips stretch into a goofy, friendly grin.

His rigid fingers relax against the wooden podium he’s posted behind, nail marks in the wood hidden behind his glove-covered palms.

“Hi, kids,” He’s got the goofy clown voice nailed, too. He almost makes you smile as he looks towards Georgie and plants his hands on his hips from inside the booth. “Are you excited for the show, young man?”

“Yes, sir.” Georgie answers back, suddenly bashful as he hangs off of your forearm.

“Two tickets, please.” You tell him, that awful, cold feeling ebbing away as you dip into your purse and pull five dollars from your wallet. Two dollars for kids, three for adults. Steeper than the movie theater, that’s for sure.

“Here you go! You kids enjoy the show now.” The clown slides the two pink stubs under the plastic for you, tipping his head to the side and grinning real wide once again.

“Thanks.” You turn and plant your hand on Georgie’s back again. Those folks who stick reins on their kids might be onto something. “It’s about to start. We’ll do the wheel later, okay?”

People have already started to filter in ahead and behind you. The tent is quieter, and darker than outside, the screams of excitement seem so much further away. Following the flickering string lights, you venture deeper under the shade of thick, red and white canvas.

Ahead of you is a circle marked by red borders, a round, dirt-bottomed arena for the performers. Rows and rows of bleachers surrounding the space, pushing at the walls of the tent for the audience. It looks bigger inside. They were expecting a big crowd, and they got it.

“Here.” You pat softly at his shoulder and point to the second row of bleachers. Front row might be better for someone his size, but you would just about die of embarrassment if you got called as a volunteer.

“Uh-huh. Do you want a soda?” Georgie asks, planting his butt onto the wooden bench beside you, rocking the soles of his Chucks into the wooden slat below. He’s been waiting to ask, these dimes have been burning a hole in his pocket since Fred handed them over this afternoon.

A gentleman always pays, and that’s what Georgie’ll be someday soon.

You chortle, shaking your head. “I’m alright. Do you need some money?”

People filter in around you with hushed pardons and thank-yous. You set your bag down under the bench and that’s where it remains, forgotten, for the rest of the evening..

“No. I brought mine! — I’ve gotta get you something,” He explains, the freckles on his face disappearing as the lights above you flicker on and off purposefully. He fishes a hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of coins, presenting them to you urgently. “Popcorn?”

Instantly, you recognise this as the workings of your father. Wesley, too. A smile ticks at the corner of your mouth, then catches.

The last person standing takes their seat. The circus tent stirs, buzzing to life with hushed whispers of what’s to come. There’s a constant whir in the background, the sound of generators keeping this place going.

Craning your neck back, you study the support beams. The podiums so far up that you can no longer see the wires, the hooks for silks, the point at the very top of the tent where all of the lights stem from.

A reminder that summer grows nearer by the minute, the tent is already thick with the warm evening air.

Your gaze flickers back to the tall podiums and the bowed ceiling of the canvas as the stage lights flicker and then dim. A thud rings out like a stack of books dropping as a spotlight hits dead center on the red curtain that hangs. Everything settles into an abrupt quiet.

“After. It’s starting.”

Anticipation settles under the canvas, weighing heavier than the early May air. Popcorn crunching and shoes fidgeting against the wooden bleachers, a cough from somewhere to your far left.

Then, with another thud, the tent falls pitch black. Georgie squeezes your wrist. He’s still scared of the dark.

With a rush, a spotlight beams on the center of the arena, revealing at once a man in black slacks and an elaborate red tailcoat. From beneath the brim of his top hat, his mouth twists into a smile, the rest of his face hidden under the cast of a shadow.

His white, gloved hands stretch out from behind his back and lift from his sides in an almost greeting gesture. He spreads his wingspan, addressing the audience as he steps forward and looks swiftly up, his gaze piercing and blue.

It tracks that he’s the one in charge around here. Older, but young in the way his eyes glint with trouble. He looks left to right, following the curve of the audience, captivating his spectators with knife-life sharpness.

The crowd has fallen resoundingly still. Popcorn goops with the threat of cooling, congealing butter. Shoes are unwavering, suddenly stuck. Georgie’s eyes bulge, blinking back at the unblinking Ringmaster.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen.” With a chilling air of calm, his lips peel back into a toothy smile. It’s friendly by nature, but cold to the eye. His head twists slowly, bending thirty degrees to the left, his smile spreading the way water does when puddled. “To the greatest show in the world.”

Ambitious, you think. Some hot guys and some speeding fines and suddenly the rest of the world are out of the running.

You recognise the self-assured leader of it all. He’s the guy from the first van, the big one, with the girl in the passenger seat. Hell on wheels, coming over that hill. Brown hair feathers from under the hat and sits around his jaw, the only part of him that’s not immaculately kept.

The tailed coat he wears is effectively tailored, showing off the gold watch on his right hand and the glimpse of a tattoo from under the sleeve of his left arm. The jacket is especially extravagant, threaded with gold buttons and woven thread down the lapels. He’s a lot more polished-looking than the guy at the ticket booth.

There’s something similar in the way his eyes land on you though. His gaze is gone again as soon as it touches you. His smile keeps on spreading, a puddle seeping through the sand floor at his feet, reaching, tendrilous, for the bleachers.

Music starts behind him, light and bouncy like the kind of sounds a carousel plays. He peeks backwards, and returns his gaze to the audience with a knowing grin.

“Sounds like my friends are excited to meet you all,” He says quietly. Then, he smiles and waves the idea off. The music stops with a beat. “They’ll have their turn. First, I have something to share with you all.”

He’s a hell of a magician. Captivating, really, the way he manages to keep track of the packed room. He’s everywhere, and aware of everything at once. During a trick in which he made a rabbit disappear, not into a hat, but into the very back of the crowd — someone near you began to whisper their theories. You don’t know how he heard what they said, but you know that it wasn’t an accident when that rabbit peed in their lap.

Beneath the awe and wonder of his run-of-the-mill magic routine, there’s something inexplicable. Something in the way he maneuvers; the way he smiles like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. All magicians are, you guess, but this is different.

The show flows on beyond him, performers emerging from the shadows with knowing looks on their faces. All of them hold onto that punchline through their tricks and trials, their mind-bending illusions and death-defying stunts.

It doesn’t stop with the appearance of the face you had been hoping to see. As he takes the stage, twisting a flaming staff expertly to a drumbeat so loud that it feels like it rattles your brain itself, he too is in on the joke. He throws the burning stick into the air. As it flips and spins, he takes a moment to look out across the crowd.

With the thundering drum beat, the orange glow of the flame, the sweat beading down his chest, the crowd hangs in anticipation as the object hurtles back down towards him. Searching through the sea of faces, a calm smile settles onto his face. He leans back, opens his palm, and catches the burning staff before it strikes him.

As much as his performance strikes an interest in you, you’re concerned that it might spark an interest in Georgie for a different reason.

Once he has returned into the same shadow behind the curtain that they all come from, there’s something that lingers with you. A delusional sense of hope, maybe, that because he looked at you once, he would do it again.

The evening’s entertainment draws to an end with another visit from the Ringmaster. With his unnaturally blue eyes and his stretching, tendriled smile, he bids Atwood goodnight. The last ones in are the first ones out, the Big Top becomes more shadow than human as the sea of faces filter out into the fairground.

“That was awesome!” Your little brother declares, throwing his hands up into the air in balled fists. “Could we come again?”

Oh, you’re planning on it. Golden Boy’s act alone is enough to guarantee you a return spot. Later tonight, when you’re alone and in bed, you’ll be thinking of the way his aptly golden biceps flex as he curls back to nail the tip of the blade into the center of the target from a distance.

Come Monday morning, Olive will be hearing all about how she missed the way sweat beads at his chest when he’s doing that fire show.

“Yeah, maybe,” You shrug. “If Fred’s okay with it.”

Fred’s okay with everything. Georgie grins, and then remembers the condition of him being allowed to go tonight.

“Oh, wait. I have to buy you something.” He remembers, shoving his hand deep into his pocket to confirm he still has his sweaty handful of change.

Fred will check to make sure, otherwise you’d tell him to keep his money for another day. You smile, and shrug once more, looking around.

“I’ll take a Coke.” You tell him. The stand is right in front of you. It’s not that far away and even with the crowds, you shouldn’t have any issues spotting the red and orange stripes on Georgie’s shirt. You were younger than him and venturing further by yourself. You don’t think twice before letting him rush off ahead of you.

He knows exactly where you’ll be waiting for him. Just to the left of the shadowy entrance to the Big Top, you push your fingers into the tight front pockets of your jeans, looking towards the inky-indigo evening sky.

It’s getting colder, now. You’re too old for your mother to remind you to take a jacket these days. Your boots trail in the mud, starting up an even and uniformed route to pace along for warmth. Georgie waits patiently at the back of the concessions line.

An evening breeze bristles at your exposed arms and carries the smell of burning tobacco. You turn your head sharply to the left, and crane your neck. The fields around the fairground are pitch black, like this pasture is the only thing around.

The smell has you wandering just a little further, around the wide bend of the Big Top, you squint through the shadows and light up just like the Ferris Wheel behind you.

Illuminated by the orange glow at the end of his cigarette, lurking in the shadows, he’s already looking at you by the time you spot him. Wearing the same black slacks he had worn for the show, the string lights behind you catch on the gold of his necklace. Your lips twitch as he smiles across at you.

The cigarette sticks between his lips like it just wants to be there as his lips stretch wide. His cheeks hollow a bit as he puffs at it, sweat drying on his skin and prickling the blonde hairs on his arms.

Watching you wander his way, he can’t help but smile back at you. Friendly is kind of his thing when it comes to this place. After all, you came all the way out here to see him, it’s the least he could do.

“Evenin’,” He drawls, Western in more than just the way he’s dressed, as he pushes up from where he was hiding to smoke against the Zoltar machine. He saunters towards you, the light catching his skin and making it glisten like real gold as he steps into the light.

“Evening.” You greet right back, lips catching on a grin. You straighten up like he’s somebody important and that makes him smile right back at you, the bridge of his straight nose wrinkling with enjoyment.

Taking his cigarette from his lips, it settles between his index and middle fingers, then lowers to hang around his waist. His inky-black, dress-pant adorned waist. The same as he was wearing during the show. Those things don’t fit like the kind of suits you usually see — the ones you’re familiar with end just above the belly button. His sit so slow on his waist that you can see the black band of his underwear.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can.

He hasn’t changed yet, he always sneaks out back for a smoke before he heads out to make himself known around the fair. Tips come rolling in if he makes himself friendly. That’s not why he’s here, hiding in the shadows, with you.

“So, how’d you like the show?” He asks. His cigarette wobbles between his lips in a real Clint Eastwood kind of way. The gold crucifix on his necklace slips on the chain as he moves, revealing a dark ink etched into his skin below. A cross, tattooed onto his skin, just between his collarbones at the base of his throat. The same as is on his necklace.

You tear your eyes away from his chest and look him in the eye. Georgie would pitch a fit if you asked to bum a cigarette. Really, you only smoke with Olive, anyway. “It was cool. My brother loved it.”

“And you?” He prompts, placing the cigarette back between his lips and inhaling deeply. Like he finds oxygen in the smoke, as if he’d been holding his breath since the last hit. He quirks an eyebrow at you as he lets the breath sit on his chest.

He knows he’s good looking, clearly — you can see that in the way he juts his hips out before he walks like a cowboy does. But, you can play too. You shrug at him, suddenly coy.

“It was alright.”

A breathy chuckle slips his lips.

“Yeah?” He beams at you, all intrigue and amusement, green eyes glinting as the neon lights of the fairground rides illuminate his face. “You’ve seen better?”

Oh, you like the way he plays. You trail towards him, slipping into the shadows of the Big Top. Close enough now that you can smell him; sweat, smoke and an equally smoky cologne. It smells expensive, for a carnie.

Your shrug is a balance between ditsy and daring that particularly seems to strike a chord of interest within him. “Still holdin’ out for the best, is all.”

Smirking around the growingly short cigarette, he puffs at it once more and plucks it from his lips again. Tall, broad and muscled all over — he must have served before. A bit older than you, he’d probably be the right age for it. He carries himself calmer than the other Vets you’ve seen. He doesn’t have that look in his eyes.

He’s what they should all look like, if they’d gotten to age like normal.

“Smart girl.” He decides, rolling it between his fingertips for a second. You watch as he drops it into the dirt and stubs it out with his boot. Green eyes on you once again, a flash of neon crosses his face as the ride roars into action once more. “I’ll see you.”

He says it like he knows it to be a certainty, taking a step back. His usual after- show ritual will continue with or without you. Next comes an outfit change and a spritz of cologne, then some Front of House showboating.

“Don’t you have a name?” You prompt him, brows drawing together as he wanders backwards.

He grins. “Jake.”

Jake. He even says his own name like he likes the sound of it. Like he thinks you’ll like the sound of it. Backwards, his boots fall into line behind each other; you don’t even realise you’re following him until his footprints are the only ones in the mud anymore.

Jake’ll be seeing you. You’ll be seeing Jake. It seems set already.

“Excuse me.” You turn and look over your shoulder, a muscle in your neck catching as you do a wide-eyed double take and spin.

One hand on a red and orange striped t-shirt, is the man of mystery himself. Standing tall, especially tall, taller than he had looked driving along the road that day, is Mr. Movie Star, stone-faced. Wearing a white vest with an unbuttoned blue overshirt and rolled blue jeans, he looks even better than before.

When he hadn’t turned up in the show, you’d started to think that you had imagined him. Speeding along that country-road with his sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose and the prettiest smile you’d ever seen.

Well, here he is. He doesn’t look half as happy to see you.

Your brows furrow as your gaze falls down to where his hand sits. Georgie’s shoulders heave with a shuddering, relieved sigh, tears burning in his eyes as he stares back at you with a glass Coke bottle trembling in his hand.

“I think you lost something.” The man of your dreams tells you, stone-faced, cold.

“Shit.” You whisper, and Georgie doesn’t even consider scolding you. He looks up at the man who had helped him find you, and heads for you instantly. “You okay? What happened?”

“I turned around and I couldn’t see you.” Even though he’s older now, right on the verge of being grown, his voice trembles and you remember he’s not like you were. He’s scared of the dark and he sleeps with a stuffed tiger and night; he’s sweeter than you’ve ever been.

He goes to wrap his arms around your middle and you welcome him with a one-armed embrace.

The guy from the road is still watching you. His hair is tousled and his shoulders are stretching out that overshirt, his cheeks are warm and pink. Eyes dark, he eyeballs you from boots to earrings.

“Thanks,” You can’t help but take a look behind you. Jake is long gone already. You smile softly in polite gratitude. “Sorry, I just — took my eye off him for a second.”

His eyes linger on your face, a silent second too long. The wait almost makes you squirm on the spot, wondering if he recognises you, if he’s mad at you. Finally, he meets Georgie’s gaze and shoots him a cool shrug. “It’s all gravy.”

Georgie unravels himself from you and pushes the Coke bottle into your hand, and you hold off on pushing him away by his face to get to know his knight in shining armour.

“Have a good night, little buddy.” With another nod of acknowledgement, the handsome man makes no effort to sugarcoat the bluntness of his tone. He drops one boot backwards and moves to turn away.

Now, you haven’t been jealous of Georgie too many times in his life so far, and not many older siblings can say that. But on this occasion, you’ve barely been graced with two sentences and Georgie’s all of a sudden been awarded a nickname? — Not gravy.

“Thanks, again.” You call out in a moment of panic. It happens before you have a chance to develop something as cool as your exchange with Jake. Then again, Jake had seemed to want to speak to you. The Movie Star turns and looks at you over his shoulder, barely giving you a second of eye contact as acknowledgement as he plucks his cigarettes from his pocket.

They sure do smoke a lot for people surrounded by canvas and gas-guzzling generators.

“I really appreciate it.” You continue, cursing yourself, curling one hand into Georgie’s shirt as you follow after him. He closes his eyes, rolling them into the back of his skull as he hears you hurrying behind him. “He’s always wandering off.”

“No, I—“ Georgie struggles as your arm wraps around his scrawny shoulders, hugging him to your side and covering his mouth.

“Really, it was no sweat.” His lighter clicks open and ignites, then flips shut and disappears back into his pocket. Not so much as a look in your direction at this point.

You really should cut your losses and take Jake as your win — you can’t have them both anyway. The Movie Star’s lips almost twitch. Cut your losses and take Jake— he likes that.

“I didn’t see you in the show,” You continue anyway, something unnatural in the way you’re itching for him to so much as look in your direction. It’s been a while since you last saw action. “So, you like… work here?”

Idiot. You cringe, and even Georgie looks up at you in unimpressed wonder.

“You could call me security.” Smoke curls around him, leaving you five paces of dirt road behind. You make a face at him from behind. He’s not as friendly as the others, who have now emerged from the shadows to greet their fans. Instead, he walks ahead, skulking under the string lights like he’s silently hating them for illuminating him at all.

You cut your losses at once, stopping in his tracks, pursing your lips. Jerk.

Georgie struggles at your side and you’re reminded to let him go from the pseudo-headlock you’ve squeezed him into. The man of your dreams, the perfect movie star to fit into your Napa Valley retirement plans, disappears into the crowds of people.

You’re stuck on that day by the road. He had seemed into you then, grinning across at you like you were the bee’s knees, shooting you that easy-breezy peace sign. Maybe it was the halter top he liked.

“Can we go on the Ferris Wheel now?” Your younger brother reminds you of the real reason you’re supposed to be there, standing in the O’Malley’s south pasture past his bedtime. Flattening out your frown and sticking your fingers into his hair, you nod your head.

“Yeah. Come on, just don’t pee your pants.”

So, your Saturday night didn’t go exactly how you had pictured it. You’re not too sure what you were really expecting of the two guys you’d seen just once. But, your little brother is still grinning and talking a hundred miles a minute when you get back home that night, and that counts for something.

You’re perched on the kitchen counter, kicking your legs and snacking on a slice of sugar-sweet clementine. The waning light overhead almost makes you forget how dark it had been beside that Big Top — how you’d found Jake all alone.

“The I-75 thing didn’t work out?” Fred whispers to you, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he pats your shoulder and passes by to drop his last beer bottle for the night into the recycling. You look back at him and smile while Georgie whittles on and on and on.

“Alright, alright,” Joan hushes, tucking her reading glasses into her hairline and giving up on her magazine to devote her attention to her youngest. “You can tell us all about it in the morning. I think you’d better head on up to bed for now.”

He closes his mouth and looks around the lemon yellow kitchen. Fred’s no help, and neither are you. He huffs and gives in to the idea of bedtime.

Dutifully, he hugs both of your parents tonight and heads for the hallway. He doesn’t head to bed before he has peered back around the doorframe and smiled back, thanking you for taking him.

The stairs groan, the hallway creeks and Georgie’s door wheezes shut. Everything about this house talks.

“Oh, I’m going to need my bag back for work on Monday, sweetheart.” Joan remembers, packing up her Cosmopolitan and dirty Martini set up from the kitchen table. Rollers in and green, mint-smelling face-mask smeared around her features, your mother has Saturday night rituals of her own.

And, you don’t have a bag.

You had one. You had taken your mother’s brown shoulder bag that she takes to work even though it fits a little more than a wallet and some keys on a good day. Shit, your wallet too.

“Sure.” You answer tightly. “Let me clear my stuff, you can have it tomorrow.”

The curiosities of a mother cross her mind, but a girl’s gotta have her secrets. She smiles and gives your bicep an affectionate squeeze as she heads for the stairs. “Okie dokie. Don’t be up too late.”

You wince at the thought of her bag being somewhere in that South pasture unattended, or gone by now. Probably rifled through. You hope there weren’t any receipts in there — she gets awfully protective about her receipts.

“Tell me the bag’s in the car.” Fred says from behind you as the groan of the stairs grows faint and the creeks of the hallway ready to start. You pivot cautiously towards him, still grimacing. He presses his lips into a line and shakes his head. “You’d best get out there and find it before she finds out, kiddo.”

“Mhm. Planning on it.” You answer with a sigh.

Really, it’s not such a bad thing, you think to yourself. You could go back there tomorrow without all those crowds, without Georgie. Maybe do the whole damsel in distress thing and see which one of them comes running with your misplaced bag.

Closing your eyes and twisting onto your side, you spot the pointed, red canvas top of the tent from your window. All of the neons are gone now, powered down for the night. They’re over there, just beyond the stretch of those woods. Jake, and the one who hates you.

…

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer-blog1 @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @hersuitisbanana @one-sweet-gubler @atarmychick007 @ximehs @nnatel @topherwrites @seitmai @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

[aka-indulgence]

Imminent Threat: Baby Pictures Confirmed!

I was bitten by the inspiration bug and I do love this idea a lot, heheh…

Wanna see what happens if HT!Sans catches a glimpse of your baby pictures?

(HT!Sans x Female!Reader)

(No warnings just be prepared for silly, fluff, and cute (aggression))

——————

Sans twiddles his thumbs, watching you leave with the dishes into the kitchen. Your parents had forbidden him from doing the dishes.

“You made us this wonderful meal! It’s her turn on the chores anyway,”

“What! I come home to see you and you’re just making me do chores?”

“Yes! It’s to catch up on all the chores you missed these past few months! Hahahah!”

He turned to you and whispered a pathetic little “sorry,” but you waved him off.

“It’s ok, I’m used to it. Might as well treat them since I can’t cook like you, right? Keep them company.”

So here he was, sitting on the table, feeling like he was going to expel the meal he just ate, watching your parents wipe their lips with tissue like they were about to interrogate him.

“So, how’s living with (Y/n) like?”

“good.” no no. too fast. talk more. “she…… she’s nice.”

nice? is that all i have to say about her?

“Ah. That’s good to hear,” your dad replies, taking a sip of tea from a mug.

…

i guess if i said the other things i thought of her, they’d probably want to take her away from me.

“Hey, I hope she’s more active than how she used to be. She used to stay home for days, and we’d have to remind her to go outside and get some sun!” Your mom chortles, and Sans rubs the back of his neck.

“a… actually… she’s the one that wants to leave the house now. i don’t… like leaving. the house is nicer.” Sans forces a grin, but he can’t tell if it’s coming off as awkward or spine-chillingly horrifying.

He can’t gauge how your parents reacted. Your dad smirked, and your mom tilted her head. What does that mean? Do they not approve? Sans usually prides himself in being able to read people like a book- even after the head injury. But his skull is full of thoughts.

“I imagine you’d have to stay at home to hone that cooking skill, then?” Your mom offered, “that stew was amazing! The blend of herbs and spices, the broth wasn’t too thick or thin, and the meat was cooked to perfection…”

Your dad chuckles. “I don’t know about cooking as much as my wife does, but I’ll tell you what, that’s one hell of a stew you’ve got. You could probably start a restaurant,”

“heh… heh you think?” His grin turns more genuine as his cheeks turn a tinge of dark blue.

“How did you learn to cook so well, Sans? Did you go to culinary school?” Your mom pries.

“oh… no actually, i learnt it all myself,” Sans explains, “back in the underground we didn’t have much to go on but we didn’t want to eat something completely tasteless so i learnt how to make things taste good with what we had…”

Sans realizes too late that maybe he brought up the underground a bit too casually, because all of a sudden your mom looks stricken with guilt, and your dad looks awfully uncomfortable.

“O-oh, I’m so sorry Sans, I didn’t mean to…”

“no no. i-i brought it up, you don’t have to apologize,”

Is he smiling too much? Should he be frowning? Wait hold on he’s looking at your mom too much, he should look at your dad now. Oh he’s looking away…

Why was he so bad at this? He’s relied on looking scary and stopping everyone from trying to talk to him. B-but he likes your parents, they’re nice, some of the few humans that actually look past his scary face and see him as… sort of harmless?

Your dad broke the silence.

“Yes, I’ve always tried to make the most of my meals. Like when I have crumbs I’d toss them near the anthill we used to have in the backyard. Hahah, one time when (Y/n) was very little she saw me throw breadcrumbs and asked me what I was doing. I told her I was feeding the ants, and she must have been really impressed with that idea… because,”

Your dad got into a fit of giggles, and Sans perks up.

“Tch… hih! Because the next day I found her standing in front of the anthill… with bread on top of it. Whole wheat, whole bread slice. I asked her what she was doing! And she said ‘I’m feeding the ants!’ She looked so proud I had to take a picture of her! I think I have it on my phone,”

Sans mouth opens. He all but quaked in his chair, having to physically restrain from grabbing your dad’s phone.

“m-m…” Sans coughs trying to regain composure, “may i see it,”

“On it, just… give me a sec…” Sans watched as your dad scrolled and scrolled, until…

“Found it,”

He turned his phone around.

There you were, no older than 3, in a little bucket hat, sleeveless shirt and shorts, with tiny flip flops. You had a bright, sunshine smile on your face, and humorously… a slice of bread sitting amidst the grass and dirt just a foot or two away from you.

Sans’ eyelights shrinks, his grin gone. Carefully, he takes the phone out of your dad’s hands and zooms in on your face. You had dimples in your cheeks, and they… they looked so plump like little squishballs. Your eyes were round and sparkled in the sun. His hands shook.

He must’ve looked unhinged.

“What do you think?” Your mom asked.

“sh…… she’s so small……” Sans breaths, then swallows, turning to your dad. “d… d’you… do you have more…?”

Your dad snorts, his arms crossed. “‘Do you have more’ he says,” he scoffs. “Kid, we have an entire baby album.”

****

You tuned out of the conversation in the kitchen, earphones plugging your ears, a tried and true ‘dish washing’ playlist playing as your background music. It was a nice break. You’re happy to see your parents again, but they can be a bit overbearing at times… ask Sans odd questions about monsters, sometimes mention how tiny you look next to your boyfriend (which had Sans hiding his face… they thought he was offended but he was mortified, worried your parents were hinting at how he was like with you in private).

Though you certainly didn’t miss doing chores back home, you did see it as a bit of a reprieve.

But then over the music, you heard laughter… loud laughter. It didn’t sound like your dad. And Sans doesn’t usually laugh that hard. It started soft at first but it got louder and louder, until you were sure that was Sans. What were they doing to him? It almost sounded like they found his most ticklish bone and was torturing him with him.

A laugh startled you so bad you almost dropped a clean plate onto the floor. You took off an earphone just in time for your mom to walk in.

“Hi dear, this is your dad’s, he’s finished his tea. You don’t have to wash it if you don’t want to…”

“Yea, ok-” you say, distracted and looking over your mom’s shoulder as if you could see what was causing all the ruckus. “What is happening???”

“Oh,” your mom laughed, “Sans is such a sweet, delightful monster. Your dad’s showing him your baby pictures-”

“Excuse me my WHAT?!!”

You threw the gloves onto the sink counter, washed your hands hastily, and yanked the other earphone off, tossing them haphazardly into a pocket. Tripping over your feet to sprint into the room, though you realize you’re too late.

Sans is vibrating on the sofa, having migrated from the table it seems. His eyelight was blown wide, the widest you’ve seen it, glued to the open book in front of him. Your dad flipped a page, looking unaware of the murderous skeleton next to him.

“And here… oh this was on a trip to the beach. She’d gotten scared of water because of a wave too big had brought her out from shore and her legs couldn’t reach the sand. It wasn’t out to sea or anything, but when you’re that small it must’ve been scary. But the hotel had a pool and I couldn’t have my daughter stay afraid of water… this was after a fun session of swimming in floaties and being swung into the pool.”

“ah… HAHAHAH! bright… orange…!”

It was clear to you now. Sans wasn’t laughing from something funny. He was overjoyed. So overjoyed he can’t contain it in himself that he just bursts with it. His eyelights warbled. They looked like hearts shimmering under a running river.

You grabbed your head in despair. “No, no no- what have you done!”

Your dad had looked up immediately, while Sans’ didn’t, holding onto the album. Though… his grin had twisted into something dark.

Dad took a photo out, the one he was just explaining: a picture of you laughing in orange floaties, floral swimwear, carried by your dad in a clear blue pool, looking up at the camera. The sides of the picture were slightly yellow.

“Do you remember this, poppy? It’s weird to think you were ever scared of water now… it’s hard to stop you from swimming, nowadays,”

You can’t help but smile in your heart a little. It brought back happy memories of travelling with your parents when you were little.

Unfortunately, there are far more pressing matters at the moment.

“No, wait, dad… what did you do?”

“What?”

“You… you showed Sans my baby pictures?”

“Baby and toddler pictures,” your dad corrected. “Also there’s no need to be embarrassed, I feel like it’s a right of passage to have your baby pictures shown to your significant other by your parents.”

“No, I’m not embarrassed,” you shake your hands helplessly, “it’s just… Sans is gonna kill me,”

There was an incident, almost a year ago now. You were shuffling through some things you found in a box you never unpacked… at the bottom you found a polaroid of you rolled up in a baby blue blanket and, admittedly, looking pretty darned cute.

You showed it to Sans, innocently. It’s cute, you can admit it, and you knew Sans would appreciate it.

Oh how naive you were.

He held the picture, stared at it. Was at a loss for words, though he kept trying to form them helplessly, bringing it close to his face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then he muttered.

“b… baby…… b… baby…”

Then he went crazy. Picking you up, not listening to your protests- usually when Sans gets in a cuddly mood he ignores your complaints but that time, it was like he really couldn’t hear you. His pupil was blown wide and constantly shifted from heart to circle. He squashed you in bed, smooshed your cheeks, kissed you until you were gasping for breath- you don’t even think it’s a sexual thing, he was just overcome with cute aggression!

It wasn’t a one time thing either. Carelessly, you’d leave the picture propped up on the window as a cute memento aesthetic… thing, maybe, but every time Sans looked at the picture too long, he’d get into his violent cuddly moods and kidnap you to the bedroom to squish you. Eventually you had to hide it to avoid inducing anymore ‘cute-induced murderous rage’ in him.

And your parents just opened pandora’s box for you.

Your brows furrow in worry as Sans looks up from the album to you, his eyelight tightening into just a fraction of what it was before, zeroing in on you. His grin was wide and deranged. He chuckled, a low, threatening sound.

“heh heh… i’m going to crush you.”

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of Doom 2024 Day 2 - It didn't have to be this way

Satoru comes to slowly. His head is throbbing and he can immediately tell that something is off. His cursed energy is just out of reach, his vision is obscured and most telling of all is the fact that is skin is prickling.

Suguru isn’t anywhere near then.

He maintains his position a moment longer, taking stock of the situation and he’s not at all surprised to find that he’s tied up. Satoru doesn’t bother to test the restraints though, because he knows he doesn’t really have to and instead he strains his ears to figure out if he’s alone or not.

There’s a slight shuffling to his right and then some murmured words which are answered by a different voice, so Satoru knows there are at least two other people with him.

It doesn’t matter, ultimately, but it feels good to figure things out for himself.

Once Satoru is certain he’s not going to throw up from his headache even if he moves his head, he picks himself up, sitting straight in the chair and giving at least some relief to his bound hands.

“Oh, look who is with us,” a voice sneers at him and Satoru guesses they saw him move.

“I wish I could,” Satoru says, his voice just a little raspy so he can’t have been out for too long. “Mind taking off whatever you put over my eyes?”

“You wish,” the voice says, and Satoru expected as much.

He’s not quite sure why his captors are this careful though, because whatever they gave him has his cursed energy locked away anyway, and it’s not as if he could do anything with his eyes alone.

Satoru can’t even turn on Infinity like this and the chafing on his wrists is not thanking him for it.

“Where’s Suguru?” Satoru asks, not bothering to ask who they are or what they want because both answers will be inconsequential in the end but his captors only laugh.

“Concerned, pretty boy?” one of them taunts him. “Don’t worry, he’s safe and sound at the school. For now. You can visit his grave there soon enough. If you can even find him under all the rubble.”

Satoru frowns.

“You’ve got something against the school?”

He’s probably dealing with a handful of curse users here and they are clearly not the strongest, nor the smartest, or they would have killed him on the spot.

“You don’t have to concern yourself with that,” a new voice chimes in. “The school won’t be standing for much longer and all your friends will be gone, too.”

Satoru rolls his eyes—not that they can see it—because this doesn’t seem as if they thought it through properly.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Satoru tells them and he’s being completely serious about it, too.

It’s downright stupid letting him live, especially since they already had the upper hand once. Satoru will have to double down on his training after this; he knew that detecting and neutralising poisons should have been a priority and yet he still slacked off with that.

Oh well, it can’t be helped now.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get to that, if you don’t want to join us,” someone to his right says and of course. Of course these idiots were hoping that Satoru would join them and whatever cause they are fighting against.

“I’ll pass,” Satoru cheerfully informs them, the prickling of his skin getting stronger with every minute that passes now and he knows that Suguru is almost here.

This is going to be fun.

“You know, it didn’t have to be this way,” Satoru cheerfully informs them. “If you go now, you can still get away with your life. I promise I’ll make sure no one comes after you.”

That earns him a round of laughter and Satoru smiles indulgingly at his captors.

“I don’t think you understand what’s going on here. The school will be blown to smithereens by now. Your friends are dead. And if you don’t want to join us, then you’ll be next.”

“Yeah, sure, sure,” Satoru nods, not bothered in the slightest.

Suguru will have noticed the moment Satoru was taken and he’s not going to be happy about it.

Things between them have been a bit—fucked up, as Shoko so lovingly put it, ever since the incident with Toji. Neither of them had taken it well, learning the extent of their injuries and their co-dependency has gone through the roof since then.

And this feeling, this prickling under Satoru’s skin whenever Suguru isn’t near is just one of those things. Satoru knows that Suguru feels it, too, because while before it always was Satoru who stuck close to Suguru, their roles are much more evenly divided now.

Satoru is still the one who instigates it much more often than Suguru, but if he doesn’t, Suguru is right there, right up in his business, getting as close as he can.

And the fact that Satoru has been taken and is nowhere near Suguru right now? That’s just going to make him go a little bit insane, just like it’s making Satoru insane right now.

He could get out of his restraints; he knows, because Suguru made sure to properly teach him the ways, but in all honesty, it’s much more fun to simply sit here and wait until Suguru comes and gets him.

It makes Satoru feel all special.

Satoru knows that there’s no way in hell that Suguru will let his captors get away with their lives and that’s just as well, if you ask Satoru. They have a system in place ever since they realised that they might just both be a little bit fucked up and so far it’s served them well.

It stopped Satoru from killing all the clapping people in that horrible room and it stopped Suguru from wiping out that village that thought it’d be okay to beat and lock up two little girls for being different.

These curse users though, they won’t even get half as lucky, because Satoru very much thinks that they deserve everything that’s coming for them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” someone asks Satoru and now that makes him laugh.

“Oh, where do I even begin?” he asks, grinning widely as he notices that the prickling is getting less and less with every minute that passes.

Suguru is close then.

“It was fun chatting with you, but I think this is where it ends now. My other half is here and you’re all out of luck.”

“Did you hit him too hard over the head?” a guy to Satoru’s left asks, the question clearly not directed at Satoru himself and he can only imagine how the other person shrugs.

It’s all they have time for, because then there’s a loud bang and something hits the ground with a metallic sound.

Probably the door that was blown off its hinges, Satoru muses and leans back in the chair, all relaxed and happy, because Suguru is here.

“What the fuck!”

There’s yelling and shouting and so much noise that it’s honestly hard to make out what’s going on without being able to see but Satoru can feel Suguru, so it’s all fine.

People still think that Satoru is the strongest, which would make him the most dangerous by default and while it might still be true that Satoru is a few levels above everyone else they clearly don’t account for the way it makes Suguru a little bit insane to be parted from Satoru.

In all honesty, Satoru would rather take it up with himself in a fight than fight a Suguru who is being kept from him.

No one is able to stand against Suguru like that.

The fight—if it even is one—is over in less than five minutes. Satoru suspects that Suguru had one of his curses simply eat the curse users that were present and soon enough everything falls quiet again.

Except for the footsteps coming up to Satoru.

“Took you long enough,” Satoru says, tilting his head back to allow Suguru to cup his cheek in his hand.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, as he slides the blindfold off Satoru’s face.

Satoru blinks against the sudden light but he makes sure not to close his eyes for too long, taking in Suguru as if he hasn’t seen him for weeks instead of mere hours.

“My head hurts,” Satoru pouts out and watches how Suguru’s eyes soften slightly, though it does little to wipe the manic look of his face.

If this was the last thing Satoru’s captors saw then they must have died scared out of their mind, Satoru thinks, and it serves them right.

He on the other hand feels nothing but warm with that look fixed on him.

“And my wrists,” he belatedly adds and Suguru leans in, almost as if he’s hugging him as he checks the restraints on Satoru’s wrists.

“You know how to break out of these,” he accuses him then and Satoru grins.

“But it’s so much more fun to have you break me out of these,” he gives back and Suguru rolls his eyes at him before he breaks the restraints with ease.

“Let me see,” Suguru then says, carefully taking Satoru’s wrists in his hands and checking the damage.

If Satoru is honest, his shoulders hurt more than his wrists, the position they had forced him in more straining than anything else.

“It’s fine,” Satoru gives back, though that doesn’t stop Suguru’s inspection.

“You knew I would come for you,” Suguru finally says, his gaze still on the slight chafing on Satoru’s skin and Satoru huffs.

“Of course I knew. I could feel it.”

Suguru only hums at that and Satoru rolls his eyes when he realises that Suguru is worrying about something.

“You’re being stupid,” Satoru finally says and now that gets Suguru to look at him.

“Rude.”

“Stupid,” Satoru says again and it makes Suguru smile slightly, so Satoru counts it as a win. “You think I care about this?” he then asks with a nod towards the carnage around them.

There’s more blood than he expected there to be but just like he thought, no corpses are left laying around. Suguru cleaned up after himself.

“You stopped me before,” Suguru reminds him and Satoru nods.

“Yeah, just like you stopped me. But this? This is different. They kept us apart.”

“They hurt you,” Suguru corrects him and Satoru hums.

“That, too, yes.” He takes Suguru’s face into his hands. “I would have killed them, too, if our roles were reversed. And you wouldn’t have minded either.”

At hearing that Suguru’s shoulders drop and Satoru can’t believe how stupid he was, thinking that Satoru would care about any of this.

“Nothing gets to keep us apart.”

“You could have handled this yourself,” Suguru says as he helps Satoru up and Satoru’s head is still throbbing and he does feel a little bit off without access to his cursed energy, but he still plays all of that up, simply so that Suguru will pick him up and carry him out of there.

It takes all of one stumble for Suguru to sigh in defeat and bend down to slide his arm under Satoru’s legs, picking him up in a bridal carry.

“I could have,” Satoru agrees, slinging his arm around Suguru and tucking his face into his throat. “But then you wouldn’t have swooped in like this and I think I might prefer it this way.”

It’s the truth but it’s also a reminder that Satoru doesn’t care just what Suguru did right now to get him.

Satoru would have probably obliterated the entire building if someone had taken Suguru away from him, for however long, even though he, too, damn well knows that Suguru can handle himself.

“I don’t like being apart from you,” Suguru says after a moment, his arms strong and secure around Satoru and it sounds like a confession, like something that’s just meant for Satoru to hear.

“I don’t like being apart from you either,” Satoru gives back and presses himself closer.

He thinks they haven’t been separated for this long in ages—basically doing everything together these days—and in all honesty Satoru hadn’t been prepared for how wrong it had felt.

It’s almost worse than barely being able to access his own power.

“Good,” Suguru breathes out as if he honestly doubted Satoru could feel the same and just for that Satoru nips at his throat. “Hey!”

“You’re being stupid again. It’s us, Suguru, always. I knew you would come for me. I knew what would happen. And honestly, I would have done the same. You know I would have.”

Satoru has always been a bit more open with his possessiveness of Suguru so that shouldn’t come as a surprise, but he knows, instinctively, that Suguru is the same.

“I know,” Suguru sighs out and brushes his lips over Satoru’s forehead.

“So stop being stupid and get me back home, I’m in need of some comfort,” Satoru whines out, pouting up at Suguru for good measure, too, even though he damn well knows that Suguru would spoil him for the rest of the day anyway.

“Dinner and a movie?” Suguru asks and Satoru shrugs because he couldn’t care less about those things.

“As long as you’re there,” he gives back, even though he knows that Suguru is not going to let him out of his sight any time soon.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere,” Suguru immediately replies and Satoru wriggles happily at that.

“Then dinner and a movie,” Satoru agrees because as long as Suguru is there he’d be fine with anything.

And the fact that Suguru doesn’t stop touching him even once the entire evening is only an added bonus.

[shaunashoochiebae]

you should write nat and lottie kissing after practice <333

Locker Room

Word count: 524

Warnings: established relationship (lottienat), precrash/no crash au, brief mention of jackieshauna, nickname use (babe), also probably a little ooc and kinda sucks. sorry 😭🙏

a/n: SO SO SO sorry this took me so long to write i haven’t been motivated recently agh anyway! i hope u enjoy x

The girls were getting cleaned up in the locker room after a quick practice. Just another average practice, preparing for nationals.

Lottie came over to her locker, grabbing her hairbrush as she towel dried her hair, “you were good out there, Nat,” she told the blonde who was standing opposite her, getting dressed. Natalie smiled to herself and nodded, “thanks, Lott. You were, too.” They shared a brief moment of eye contact before Shauna came over, “Jackie’s asking me to go do something later. I think she wants me to go rollerblading,” she boomed. Lottie rolled her eyes, “sounds fun,” she replied sarcastically, brushing her hair. “Oh, yeah. Have fun,” Natalie added, a smirk on her face.

Shauna quickly waved them goodbye and left the locker room, it was just the pair now.

Natalie looks over at the taller girl, “What were you saying? How I was just so amazing and perfect on the field today?” she asked teasingly, sauntering over to her girlfriend. Lottie chuckled at her words, “don’t flatter yourself, babe. You were okay at best.” Natalie nodded, leaning against another players locker, “sure, sure, okay. You were fine,” she shrugged, poking fun at Lottie.

Lottie tossed her towel onto the bench, not daring to look away from her girl. “Don’t be rude, Nat,” she returned, pushing her locker closed. “You know I was good,” she added, a smirk creeping up onto her lips. Natalie’s nose scrunched in thought, “Hmm.. maybe just a little.”

Lottie chuckled and moved to her girlfriend, her hands gripping around her waist, “yeah, you think?” she asked in a whisper, placing a kiss onto Natalie’s temple. Nat nodded, her arms shaking around Lotties neck, trapping her there.

“Not only that, I stopped about a million goals, how’s that for good?” Lottie continued, planting gentle kisses along her girlfriends jaw.

Natalie melted into her touch, humming along to Lotties words like they were a lullaby.

As soon as Lottie’s lips made a tiny bit of contact with Natalie’s, Nat pushed her face up against the taller girl’s. Lottie quickly understood what she wanted and brought her hands up to Natalie’s head, impossibly deepening the kiss. Nat smirked to herself, shifting slightly to sit on the bench next to the pair. Lottie followed, sitting with her without breaking the kiss. The two were just about to get comfortable when they heard a banging sound, causing them to push themselves away from each other, “the fuck was that?” Natalie asked in a low tone, looking around them. Lottie just shrugged when the noise came again and a loud voice spoke.

“Hey, pack it in ladies! Gotta close up the locker room in a minute!” It was coach Scott. Natalie rolled her eyes, realising who it was and stood up from the bench. She held her hand out to Lottie to help her up. “Let’s get our stuff,” Natalie decided, grabbing her soccer uniform from the ground. Lottie nodded, picking up her towel she threw earlier, “He’s such an ass. Can’t even make out in peace,” she mumbled jokingly. Natalie chuckled, playfully hitting Lottie in the shoulder, “shut up, you loser.”

[so-that-was-okay]

I see that after the last episode the majority opinion seems to be that Buck and Tommy did more than kissing already and that they are in a fully settled relationship but I still kinda hope for this all to happen on screen next season. them getting exclusive, calling themselves boyfriends for the first time, ofc saying I love you the first time and doing more than kissing. I think the short season got in the way of it all but Tim also wanted to put Tommy in where he could so the audience new that he is still there. the second half of season 7 did not lend itself for cute dates and new love jitters but I really hope all that development does not happen off screen. I wanna see Buck excited about spending the night together for the first time for example. Or Tommy calling Buck his boyfriend accidentely and being nervous about Bucks reaction. Things like that. There will be drama of course but I need them to be cute with each other a little more before that

Hey, anon!

Ah, so. I have my own little opinions on all this.

At 7x10, Buck and Tommy have been together for an unknown amount of weeks. Months? I don't know. There's something that really makes me want to say they're still in the discovery period of their mutual feelings and attraction. "Having sex" encompasses touching to actual intercourse and everything in-between, and I'm not even sure they reached the stage of "actual" sex. But this is just my little hc, I'm all for them being at whatever stage of their physical relationship.

And it'd also make sense if they were physically fully involved. They like each other, they definitely find each other attractive, Buck is sexually very active and Tommy is making sexual allusions. But I don't know. Something feels like they're not "there" yet.

Also, I want to see a lot of first times too. I'm pretty sure we won't see many of them, but at least the most significant ones. I hope they let them share that with us, and it'd good for the general audience to witness it too. Queer love is often pushed back between lines, it's something that happen where people can't see. They've done a pretty good job so far with Hen and Karen, it's sensual and very loving, and that could work with Buck and Tommy too, to keep it into the rating limits.

You know what? I can almost see a miscommunication between them, like Tommy thinking Buck is not ready yet so he's like a bit distant and try not to engage too much. And Buck thinking Tommy needs time when he's in a new relationship so he's not pushing and suddenly does a lot more sport lol That would be cute, but they're also good at communicating so... 🤷🏽

Anyway. Yes to first times on-screen! Their first I love you will probably end me but hey, little price to pay to see that!

[kamisama1kiss]

*Debby Ryans my hair* Hi, I'm back from the Kenma post could i pretty pretty please request Akaashi, Kenma, Kuro, and Bokuto being a little possessive/their reactions to someone flirting w reader during a game? Like they give reader their jacket over the game or interrupt the person flirting w them. ALSO LOVE THE WRITING HONESTLY I MOGHT BE BACK TO REQUEST NINGAJO LATER IF INFEEL LIKE IM NOW ANNOYING YOU WITH REQUESTS. TYSM FOR ANSWERING MY LAST REQ AND TY IF YOU ANSWER THIS ONE LOVE YOUR WRITING!!

This idea is kissable 😝😚 OFC. I love getting requests and never say no to them!! Please do come back when you wish 🫶

~~~

Their reaction to their lover being flirted with in a game + Haikyuu Headcanons

~ Kenma Kozume ~

When he had his eyes off the game for even just a moment, wanting to see his partner but he was greeted with the sight of a random person hitting on them.

A frown took on his face was immediately visible, looking around for a moment before he snuck off to his partner. "Hey, love. Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything?" Smiling at his lover, ignoring the stranger as he cut them off mid flirting.

"Hm, doing better now with you're here. The team is doing great, " smiling at him, happily answering with the person now feeling awkward and walking off silently. "Mhm, I'll be back later." Moving back on to court where Kuroo hit his shoulder with a good laugh, being proud of him for standing up.

~ Kuroo Tetsuro ~

There was a break between the sets, and he wanted to spend time with his lover now when he had the moment. Now, when waddling closer, there was a clearly unpleasant expression on your face.

His famous grin turned down along with his eyes narrowing, walking up to you anyway with a slight speed in his steps. "It's kind of cold, don't you think?" Asking you out of the blue, cutting the person off. Taking his jacket and placing it around your shoulder with a kiss on your forehead, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he sat down.

Looking at the person acting oblivious, "Oh hey, you were saying?" Only making them shake their head and walk away quickly. You laugh at this interaction. "Thank you, Tatsu"

~ Akaashi Keiji ~

He had sent you a few small waves throughout but wanted to wait until the end to talk to you, but plans got changed when bokuto pointed something out to him. "Akaashi? I think someone is flirting with {Nick-Name}." Which he looked over. "Hmm." Luckily, there was a short 5 minute break for the moment.

"Is everything okay, lovey?" Speaking in his calm, collected tone. Wrapping an arm around your waist. "Yeah, even better with you here." Smiling up at Akaashi. With the stranger now feeling rather awkward so they walked away without much of a word.

"Thank you, they wouldn't listen to me." You mumbled appreciating the aid. "You did good out there, ashi." He appreciated your compliment with a nod, "Thanks, I should get back now." Kissing your cheek, taking his jacket off, and lending it to you before he jogs back to the team.

~ Bokuto Koutaro ~

He'd won a round and celebrating amongst his team even tho there were still maybe 2 more rounds, looking for you immediately after wanting to hear what you thought of his performance.

He felt a ping of pain immediately when seeing someone else talk to you in that way. Shaking it off his mind as he jogged up to you since you'd be sat with the benches near where his game was. Placing both hands on your shoulders with a not so happy expression, the stranger finally noticed the tall volleyball player.

"Uh... I should leave." Could be missed if you blinked, then they we're gone. "Kou, you did amazing." Looking up at him from where you sat. "Jealous?" You cood lightly as he stumbled and shook his head. "Me? Never." Crossing his arms with a pout.

~~~

Ended up writing a bit more than expected 🤭 Anyway! Hope everyone enjoyed it!!♡

[wildsupernova]

summer, sun, and a smoking engine.

summary: when your car breaks down on the side of the road in Hawkins, Indiana, you don’t have many options other than try walking and find help. Thankfully, Steve Harrington is here to help.

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: strong language, no use of y/n, little bit of mechanic eddie thrown in there (not really a warning but i have nowhere else to put this)

a/n: hello! this fic is a bit self indulgent, i guess you would call it. my love life has been quite terrible pretty much all my life, and i’m the kind of person who can’t help dreaming about a movie cliche type meet cute, so i wanted to write this fic to help quell my insatiable desire for a rom com romance. this is part one of what will probably be a three part series, so i hope you enjoy! :)

if you’d like to make a request, my inbox is always open. i also have my prompts list linked below so you request one of those as well.

part 2 (coming soon) | masterlist | prompts list

Stranded on the side of the road in Hawkins, Indiana was not the way you wanted to start your summer vacation. 

You should be in Indianapolis by now, lounging by the pool at your best friend’s house, raiding her parent’s liquor cabinet and getting drunk off your asses until you can’t remember anything the next morning. Not here, pounding against the steering wheel of your shitty rustbucket of a car wishing you’d actually remembered to do what your dad told you and take it to a mechanic before you made the trip. The horn honked as you slammed your forehead into it, but it was quickly swallowed up by endless fields on either side of you. 

The universe had a sick sense of humor when it came to you in particular, and it seemed the jokes never ended. Some vengeful god or cosmic plan had singled you out as the sole outlet for their aggression; just a girl with a particularly unremarkable life, desperate to escape the world just for a few weeks and forget about her ridiculously non-existent love life and only slightly above average academic career. 

Lately, your life has felt like one big joke. Everyday seemed to be the exact same mind numbing routine; wake up late, rush to make it to your 9 am lecture that left you falling asleep halfway through, eat the same shitty college cafeteria lunch you always did, spend three hours cramming for a test you know you’ll fail anyway, and go to bed at 2 am just to wake up and do it all over again the next day. You watched everyone else around you do something with their lives, whether they were partying all night or getting married. Everyone seemed to be having ten times more fun than you, and you were starting to think that you were just destined for a lonely, less than exceptional life. 

By the time you hit 20 with no long term relationships ever (none that really meant anything, anyway), you’d begun to think it was all futile. Maybe you were destined to be alone forever, maybe you just weren’t looking in the right places, maybe it just wasn’t the right time, but whatever the reason, it had you banging your head against the wall every time your roommate gushed about how sweet and sexually adept her boyfriend was. 

That’s why it really shouldn’t have surprised you that today of all days would be the one where you end up stranded in a town you’d never heard of until you saw the ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign a few miles ago.

You’d seen a few cars coming this direction before your car had broken down, so you knew there had to be some sort of civilization not far from here. You’d considered standing by your car and waiting in the hopes that someone would stop to help you, but the sun was already beginning to set and it didn’t really seem like the safest idea to be alone in your car at sundown, especially in some place you didn’t know. That’s what pushed you towards what you were doing now, walking down the long stretch of road and hoping that you’d find someone who could help you not too far down it. 

Somehow, it seemed to feel hotter now that the sun was beginning to set, blistering heat causing sweat to begin forming on your skin almost the minute you stepped out of your car. You’d chosen the wrong day to wear a sundress and sandals, the arches of your feet burning more and more the longer you walked. You swatted at probably thousands of mosquitos that began to swarm you as you walked, and by the time you finally saw the signs of the city, you could feel your hair sticking to your forehead from the thick coating of sweat collecting there. 

The sun was about halfway set by the time you reached the parking lot of the small strip mall, and when you looked at the watch on your wrist it blinked dimly at half past 5. Every store was closed already except for one, a small Family Video store with a single maroon BMW parked outside the door. Finding it the only option you had other than to keep walking, and hoping the AC inside would be working, you pushed your way through the door and hoped someone inside would let you use the phone. And the bathroom. 

“I’m telling you, Robin, I’m hopeless.” Steve struggled to hold the stack of tapes in his hand, almost sending all of them tumbling to the floor when he tripped over a bump in the carpet. 

“You’re not hopeless, you’re just looking in the wrong places.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“Maybe stop looking for the type of girl you had in high school? You’ve matured, so start looking for something new.”

“That's the problem, I don’t even know what my type is.” He placed the stack of tapes on the counter, picking up a few that fell over. Robin came to stand next to him, taking the tape off the top of the stack and starting to rewind it.

“I don’t know what to tell you, figure it out. Who knows? Maybe your dream girl will come walking right through that door any minute.”

The universe has one sick sense of comedic timing, doesn’t it?

Steve opened his mouth to offer up a rebuttal but was cut off by the chime of the bell above the door, hinges squeaking at it flung open then shut rather harshly. He turned towards the door and prepared to give his stupid, fake customer service greeting, but was cut short when he saw who it was that had just come through the door. 

He had never seen anyone like you. Hair a mess as if your hands had been running through it for hours, covered in sweat and rocking back and forth on your heels to stop your feet from hurting, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything more beautiful. Wearing a black sundress covered in white daisies and flat brown sandals, you looked like something out of a rom com cliche, damsel in distress stumbling into his life at just the right time. You looked around the store almost frantically and visibly irritated, but the second you laid your eyes on Steve on the other side of the counter you breathed a sigh of relief. 

He had to snap himself out of whatever trance you put him in when you started walking towards him. 

“Hey, do you guys have a phone I can use? My car broke down like a mile from here and I really need to call a mechanic.”

“Uh, yeah, there’s a phone in the back you can use.” A stray strand of hair fell into Steve’s face as he physically shook himself back into reality. “My friend’s a mechanic, I can give you the number to his shop if you want.”

“That would be perfect, thank you.” The relieved laugh you let out made his face heat up a bit, and he quickly grabbed a piece of paper to scribble the number to Eddie’s garage down on. He ripped it off and handed it to you, nodding towards the door reading ‘Employees Only’.

“Phone’s back there, take all the time you need.”

“Thank you so much,” Your eyes flitted down to the name tag on his vest, flashing him a soft grin. “Steve.”

Once you disappeared into the back room, Steve leaned forward against the counter. Robin let out a whistle and hopped up to sit on the counter next to him, kicking her feet back and forth. 

“Man, I was kidding when I said she’d walk through the door any minute, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that starstruck by a girl you just met.”

“She’s probably just…passing through town. Who knows if I’ll ever see her again after this.” Steve popped the tape out of the machine and put another one in, trying to occupy himself with anything other than thinking about you. 

“So? When has that ever stopped you before?”

“I don’t know, Robin. It’ll probably end in disaster just like every other time.”

“I don’t care. If you don’t take your shot with this girl, I might just kill you.”

Almost on cue, the door to the back room swung open again, a visible shift in your demeanor than when you’d walked in. You looked far less tense, and Steve found it hard to keep his eyes off of you. 

“You are truly a life saver. With any luck, I’ll be out of here and back on the road before sundown.” 

“It’s no problem, really.” Steve turned his head away to hide the blush on his cheeks. He gave Robin a look as she silently pushed him to keep the conversation going, eventually holding his hands up in surrender. “My shift’s almost over so I can, uh, give you a ride back to your car, if you want. I’d hate for you to have to walk all the way back in this heat. Plus it's almost dark, I wouldn't want a girl like you wandering around out there alone.”

Steve pressed his lips together tightly when he realized what he’d said, but the smile on your face let him relax. 

“I’d like that, thank you.” You rocked back and forth on your heels while you waited for Steve to gather his things, dress swishing back and forth against your thighs. You laughed a little to yourself while he scrambled frantically, muttering something to himself while he flushed red up to his ears. You flashed him a sweet smile when he finally had all his things, following him out the door and into the beemer you’d seen parked outside when you first arrived. 

Steve was handsome, there was absolutely no denying that. Sunkissed skin that was likely the result of hours of relaxing by the pool, fluffy brown hair you couldn’t help but want to run your hands through and the kindest brown eyes you’d ever seen. You were sure that at one time in his life he was a heartbreaker with all those good looks and boyish charm, but the way he got flustered just talking to you made you believe that he had put those days long past him. 

He seemed almost nervous sitting in the car with you, doing his best to keep his eyes on the road while stealing a few quick glances at you. He adjusted himself in the seat and cleared his throat, trying to break the tension in the air. 

“So, uh, what brings you to Hawkins?”

“Just passing through on my way to visit a friend in Indianapolis.” You smoothed down the skirt of your dress to find something to do with your hands. “Was hoping I’d get there by nightfall but, unfortunate turn of events I suppose.”

“Where are you from?”

“Out of state.” You kept it vague, still not quite sure if you could totally trust him. “I go to school in Indiana though.”

A few seconds later, your car finally came into view, seemingly in much worse shape than you left it. White smoke now billowed from underneath the hood, and you leaned yourself against the dash to try to get a better look from inside the car.

“No, no no no.” As soon as Steve made a U-turn and parked his car behind yours, you opened the door and ran over, running a hand through your hair in a panic. 

“I’m sure it's not…that bad.” Steve tilted his head as he came up next to you, scrunching his face as he looked at the smoke continuing to spill from your engine. “Yeah, I don’t think it's supposed to do that.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You let out a groan before collapsing to the curb, head in your hands. “I should have listened to my dad when he told me to get it checked. Now who knows how long it’ll be before I can get back on the road.”

“Look, Eddie’s good at what he does.” Steve sat down next to you, nudging his shoulder into yours to offer some comfort. “He’ll have her back up and running in no time.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll take a miracle to fix all the problems with this piece of shit.”

Steve’s small chuckle was drowned out by the rumble of an engine, raising your head to see a tow truck traveling down the road towards you and your still smoking car. The red, hand painted detailing stood out against the black body of the truck, and as it got closer, you could hear the rumble of metal music blaring out of the open truck window. The driver, who you had yet to catch a glimpse of, backed the truck until the winch was close to the front of your car, the truck letting out one last puff of smoke through the exhaust as the engine shut off. 

“Always picking up strays, aren’t you Harrington?” The driver called out at Steve as he opened the truck’s door, a soft thud sound following after as he hopped out of the truck. Steve rolled his eyes. 

“I’m helping someone whose car broke down.”

“Mhmm. Bet you wouldn’t be helpin’ em if they weren’t so pretty though.” The man that had stepped out of the truck was the last person you’d expect to run a mechanic’s garage. Long, curly black hair down to his shoulders, arms covered in mismatched tattoos, and a cocky smirk on his face while he chewed on a toothpick. He looked to be only a few years older than yourself, and while you could tell that his disposition was likely off putting to most people he met, you found it oddly…comforting. Better a charming metalhead than a greasy bald guy drenched in sweat, you supposed. 

“You gonna get her car down to the garage or what?” Steve put his hands on his hips, earning a laugh from the other man. 

“Lemme assess the damage man. I gotta see what I’m working with.” He walked to the front of the car, playfully shoeing Steve away from it while he popped the hood. As soon as he did, smoke puffed out from around the engine, causing him to cough and wave it out of his face. He let out a whistle, leaning over the car to get a better look at the engine. “Good news, probably just a busted radiator hose. Easy and cheap fix, no biggie. Bad news? I won’t be able to fix it til’ the morning.”

“What?” You stood up from where you sat on the curb, leaning against the car. “I’m supposed to be in Indianapolis tonight. What am I gonna do?”

“Well, I’m sure ole Stevie over here can help you figure something out, can’t you Harrington?” He clasped his hand on Steve’s shoulder and gave him a rather rough shake. Steve sent him a glare before turning back to you, trying to offer up a sympathetic smile.

“There’s a motel a few minutes into town. Nobody ever stays there, so there should be room. I can give you a ride over, if you want.”

You took a second to take in your surroundings. Here you were, stranded on the side of the road in an unfamiliar small town, with a car that had no chance of working until morning and no way to tell your friend you wouldn’t make it to her house tonight. Your only other option was to start hitchhiking, so staying in a dead end motel sounded good right about now. 

“I guess I don’t really have many other options.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, Eddie’ll take good care of her.” Eddie winked at you playfully, bringing a small smile to your face. “And Stevie here will take good care of you.”

“Eddie, come on man.” Steve hid his face in embarrassment while Eddie snickered, clapping him on the back when he went to hook up the winch. You hide the redness in your own cheeks behind your hands.

“Sorry man, couldn’t help it.” Once the winch was hooked up and the front wheels of the car were off the ground, Eddie hopped back into the truck, leaning out the window to call down to you before he left. “I’ll get to work on her first thing in the morning, promise. She’ll be good as new before you know it.” 

He flashed you another smile before starting up the truck again, driving back towards town while you stood there watching your car get dragged along behind him. 

“Sorry about Eddie. He can be…alot, sometimes.” Steve leaned on the hood of his car, crossing his arms over his chest. You shrugged.

“S’okay. He reminds me a lot of a few of my friends back home, actually.” Steve chuckled a bit and nodded towards his car. 

“Well, you’ll be able to handle him better than me then. Come on, I’ll take you over to the motel.” You climbed back into the passenger seat of Steve’s car, sending him a quick thank you before he drove off. 

The sun was almost fully behind the horizon when you finally pulled into the parking lot of the ‘Stop Inn Motel’, a small, two story collection of motel rooms with a main office smack dab in the middle of it. There were only a few other cars in the parking lot, and the flashing neon ‘vacancy’ sign above your head almost made your head hurt in the dimming light. 

The girl behind the counter only looked up from her magazine after you rung the bell, rolling her eyes as she stood from her chair. 

“It’s $10 a night for a single, $15 for a double.”

“Just a single for the night, please.” You went to reach into your wallet for cash but Steve stopped you, handing over his own $10 bill to the desk attendant. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’ve already had a shitty enough day. It’s 10 bucks, no big deal.” Your shoulders relaxed at the soft smile on Steve’s face, kind eyes softening when he saw the way your mood rose a little. The girl behind the counter dangled a set of keys in front of you, which you took quickly.

“Checkout at 2 tomorrow. Stay after check out and it's a $5 fee per hour unless you pay for another night.” You gave her a nod and a thank you, which she ignored before heading back to her chair from before and flipping through her magazine again. 

Steve helped carry your bags from his trunk up to your room, standing outside while he passed you your bags over the threshold. You thanked him one more time before going to close the door, but he cleared his throat nervously to stop you. 

“Hey, uhm, you’re probably starving after everything today and I thought maybe I could…show you the best places to eat around town while you’re here?” The nervous wringing of his hand had your heart swelling in your chest. You were usually the one nervous around guys like Steve, and you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to turn down his offer. You’d always wanted to take more chances. Why not this one?

“I’d like that.” He raised his head as if he’d expected you to say no, smile curling his lips upwards. “Just give me an hour to get changed. I’m, like, drenched in sweat and dirt right now.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Good. See you then.”

You watched Steve all the way back to his car, closing the door behind you once he got out of your view. You leaned against it for a moment and took a deep breath in, then frantically began opening your luggage to find something to wear. 

Hey, maybe your piece of shit car was good for something after all. 

⊲Part 2, coming soon⊳

[arriansarchive]

hello :)

can I request that ron weasley gets absolutely dominated by male! slytherin! reader, degrading him and asking him to beg? maybe?? If it's not too much you can throw in some overstim and/or fluff too.

thank you・⁠∀⁠・

- 🎗️anon

Sub!Ron Weasley/Dom!Slytherin!Male Reader

OOOUGH I actually love this prompt

I love you 🎗️anon

I couldn't fit the fluff correctly in there, but there's a hug at the end, so take that I guess

And I didn't know how to input the Slytherin part really, but it's there somewhere

Let's goooo first full post back

Okay onto the story

Summary: request above

The fun really started once you and your boyfriend, Ron Weasley, entered the empty bathroom. He had been teasing you all day with his hands rubbing up and down your legs when you passed each other, giving you a very noticeable erection.

It was torture, so you vowed to take him to task once you were alone in the bathroom where you normally met between classes. Whenever the time finally came, you pushed him against the sink and pressed your lips onto his viciously.

"You're a bitch, Ron. An annoying, horny bitch." You panted a little as you tugged his pants off to reveal his extremely hard penis. You raised your eyebrows in muted surprise. He had been planning for this.

"Well, it seems like you enjoy it a fair amount.* He whispered in your ear, motioning to the erection you also had.

You dropped to your knees suddenly once his pants were off and wrapped your supple lips around the head of his dripping penis. Ron let out a low groan that echoed throughout the bathroom; you hoped nobody would hear.

"Shut up!" You reached up and clamped a hand over his mouth.

He moaned into your hand as you continued to move your tongue around his sensitive skin in a dance. You smiled as best you could with his penis in your mouth, wondering if he was feeling the same torture you felt all day.

You pulled your mouth off momentarily, "How does it feel.

Ron moaned a little louder, but your hand muffled the pleasured noise. You could tell that he was getting closer to his climax though you never intended to stop whenever he came.

He started to convulse, obviously pent up from the past busy week, whenever he came hard. You felt the ropes of the salty, sticky substance coat your tongue. Usually, you didn't enjoy swallowing the liquid, but today you just wanted it out of the way.

"Oh, Merlin; I've been waiting all day for that." He smiled lightly.

You looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not done."

You see his Adams apple bob up and down in a gulp of excitement or nervousness; you can't tell. Ron enjoys overstimulation, and you're excellent at going it, so it all works out.

Your hand went down from Ron's face and cupped his penis in your hand gently. It twitches from the mere touch.

"Fuck!" Ron swore.

You smirk a little. "Just a little bit, and I'll be done."

You kiss the lip and drag your tongue down to the base of his dick. He shivers above you, grabbing your head, pushing you down while he quivered.

"Okay, okay, stop!" He groaned in pleasured agony.

His tip was leaking, and he was hard once again, but you stopped anyway. As you stood, he grabbed your arm regretfully.

"Wait! Now that I'm hard again, can you please continue?" He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

You smiled with a false sense of sympathy and gave him a big hug. "You know what? I think I'll leave you to do that, Ron."

Ron stood speechless as you sauntered out of the room, chuckling behind the hand covering your mouth. He's definitely going to get you back tomorrow.

[cheri-2047]

Lyney x Reader (reverse comfort)

TAGS: gore, blood, slight mentions of SA, trauma, child abuse, child labor, fluff at the end

CHARACTERS: Lyney, mentions of lynette, Freminet, Arlecchino

A/N:this was actually from an anon but I accidentally posted it and I had to delete it, anyways I hope u still find this 😞 another A/N at the end

Situation: Lyney used to be more catlike just like Lynette, until when he was being cared for by nobles, they had to cut off his ears and tail.

It was one of those quiet nights. Nights where your boyfriend was a bit more drained than usual. Nights where he would come home tired from a mission and just desperately wanting to go to bed, and nights where he just wanted to lay comfortably in the solace of your arms.

He came home from a difficult mission from “father.” He came with slight wounds and bandages all over his torso, causing you to worry about him before he brushes it off, saying he had gotten treatment from the nurses and the healers at the hearth.

“Please..whats wr-“

“I’m gonna take a shower…”

He said a bit coldly, not intending to sound rude, he really was just tired.

He went off to the bathroom and you couldn’t help but think of what to do.

Is he okay?

No

Is he tired?

Yes

Is he hurt?

Yes

Is he sad?

….you couldn’t tell.

You couldn’t differentiate if your lover was just tired or sad.

That night, lyney skipped dinner once more. Not because he wanted to but because he was extremely exhausted.

“Can we go to bed a bit earlier? Just wanna rest for now”

He said with a smile. You could tell it was forced so you wouldn’t worry. In turn you just nodded to make things easier for him.

“Let’s go.”

You two got in bed. Whenever he was like this, he liked being the little spoon. He hugged you tightly and buried his face on your chest.

“Good night reader…”

He said before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He falls asleep almost immediately. You were a bit restless at the time and just watched him sleep. You from time to time played with his hair and that’s when you noticed two odd bumps.

What the…

You looked at both, it looked stitched closed. You looked at him with a concerned look, as you tried to check on it more “did this happen today? No no it doesn’t look new” as your hands passed over the top, lyney jolted up and sat up, before grabbing your hand violently

“A-ah… sorry sorry I- don’t touch please… not there”

He felt bad for reacting that way to you, as he let go of your hand.

“Sorry! I-I didn’t mean to hurt you”

“It’s alright… just.. sensitive is all”

He smiled, trying to explain.

“I’m worried about you lyney… I saw the stitches…”

Lyneys gaze averted from yours. He didn’t want anyone to see that, even if it was from freminet, or father (even though she already knew).

“I don’t… um…”

Lyney didn’t know whether he should tell you or not. He wanted to but at the same time he didn’t want you to worry.

“If you don’t want to say anything it’s okay… you..you don’t have to. I’m really sorry for touching there darling”

“Mon cher…”

He laid back in your arms

“When..Lynette and I were street rats, before ‘father’ found us…”

He said while playing with his shirt a bit. Still not giving you eye contact.

“We were adopted by nobles. A kind man, he said he was impressed by our tricks on the street.”

“…he would give us a home to live in, to stay away from the streets and in turn we perform for him at his parties”

“Lynette and I needed to ensure we would stay at our ‘home’ so he would force us to practice all day”

“It was all fun and games at first until he started waking me up in the middle of the night”

Lyney clutched his shirt tighter.

“He would scold me into practicing more, yo the point he would pull my tail as if it were a leash”

Your head tilted in confusion

“Tail?”

“One night, after a performance, he pulled me away”

“You did great lyney! But I think it would be better if you looked a bit more… distinct from your sister don’t you think?”

“I didn’t understand what he said, I thought he meant he’d color my hair different, but suddenly I saw a pair of scissors and a medical table.”

“I told myself he’d just cut my hair, that is until he told me to.. lay down on the nearby bed”

“Chest on the mattress” he said”

You held out your hand out to see if he would wan to hold it for comfort.

Lyney let go of his shirt and held your hand

“He then cut off my tail. He covered my mouth tightly with his hand so I wouldnt yell, before he pressed my head down and cut off my ears as well”

Lyney had a pained tone, one he wouldn’t usually wear.

“I used to be like Lynette”

He buried his face on your chest. You felt it getting damp slightly.

Lyney never liked to cry, he hated it. But he never talked about what happened for years. Not just one, not just two, 10.

He hated remembering, but he wanted to tell you.

“So..so that’s why… oh love I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trigger you and I’m so sorry he did that, you don’t deserve that…”

(I’m leaving this space a bit empty so you can also say your own words to him in ur head does this make sense 😓)

Lyney shook his head, before trembling a bit in your arms, before nodding at your response “it’s okay…”

You could tell he was still in pain due to the events.

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Do you… feel bad about what happened?”

“Of course I do… I never wanted for it to happen and I liked it before since it made me look more like lynette”

He frowned.

“What about this… do you have a mission tomorrow?”

“Not that I know of…”

“Let’s go out tomorrow and do anything you want, I’ll pay…like a day off AND date to make you feel better”

You offered, as you hugged him tighter

You feel him nod.

“I love you, thank you Mon cher”

He muttered before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

That night, you spent the night whispering comforting words to his ear until you both fell asleep.

A/N: this wasn’t proofread and I kinda didn’t know how to go for the ending so I made it like that

Sorry this was so badly written 😓 I haven’t been able to write good recently and I really tried.

Anw, I hope this was ok!

REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN !!!

[simmerianne93]

[Simmerianne93]Portrait_poses_11

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Hello everyone!!! How are you today???!!!

I'm 3 days late with these poses.... sorry for that... but here they are!!! Finally!!! The winner pack from the last public survey: Portrait poses with triplets!!! and as such it's a free pack for everyone to enjoy, inmediatly...

Thank you so so so so much for participate in the survey! I'll be doing another one soon, so keep an eye in my socials and here for the announce!!

I really love this pack! I know I say that a lot lately haha but I trully love this one.

Back when Growing Together went on sale, a friend of mine give it to me.... I decided to play with a sim called Pilar to test the expansion pack and she fell in love with Don Lothario. I don't hate Don, I actually love him. I read an NSB that redeemed him a few years ago and I started to love him. So I was glad that my lovely Pilar fell in love with him in this save. They woohoo and my game decided to troll me and give me for the first time a pregnancy with triplets... no traits used no on the sims, nor in the lot... It was just a game's choice.

A few days later, when the triplets were beautiful infants, Pilar and Don wished to woohoo again... I was hesitant xD (I have Mccc and WW installed, and I have a % to get a sim pregnant even with the normal woohoo interaction) and every time they were going to Woohoo, I would cancel the action, but after canceling it about 5 or 6 times, I decided to let them be haha and that was a mistake, 'cause they got pregnant again... with triplets.... yeah... no cheats, no traits... it just seems that this Don and my lovely Pilar were too fertiles... hahahaha...

Anyway, I got two triplets in a row, with just two woohoo tries... and that was when I started to think about triplet packs. Actually, that's how my "Infant_poses_01" came to life... and now you have this new posepack, inspired for that unexpected event to "complete" in a way the triplet's journal... haha kind of a "memories" posepack, triplets for all ages from infants to teen/adults.

I hope you all like them as I do, because I'm in love with the way they came out:

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What is on it?

12 groupal poses:

4 poses for 5 sims (2 adults and 3 infants; 2 adults and 3 toddlers; 2 adults and 3 kids; and 5 teens/aduts)

4 poses for 4 sims (1 adult and 3 infants; 1 adult and 3 toddlers; 1 adult and 3 kids; and 4 teens/adults)

4 poses for 3 sims (3 infants; 3 toddlers; 3 kids; and 3 teens/adults)

--- What do you need?

Andrew poses player.

Teleport any sim by Scumbumbo or Mccc by deaderpool.

"Rustic stool" chair from "Jungled Adventure" Gamepack (tho it can be use with some other "stools" from the game like the one from "For rent" Expansionpack)

"The hipster hugger" sofa from Basegame (or any 3sits-sofa, tho it can glitch a little bit depending on wich sofa you choose)

A double bed.

Invisible infant mat replacement  by mcrudd  (OPTIONAL)

Instructions in the original post.

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TOU

Do not claim my creations as your own.

Do not re-upload or modify my creations.

Do not make money of my creations.

Do not include my creations in Mods folders to download.

Please follow my Term Of Use.

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Download it now here — [FREE FOR EVERYONE]

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If you want to support me:  Patreon | Ko-fi

All my poses overview: Pinterest |  Wix | Tumblr

More in-game preview pics of all my poses: Instagram

My socials: Twitter | BlueSky | Instagram | Tumblr 

Lives and videos: Youtube

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I really hope you like them and I will say in advance: Thank you so much for using them.

@ts4-poses

[madamescarlette]

don't you love when you're like, okay now I'm going to leave this sorrow in the old year so I don't turn into a crotchety bitter person over it, and then you walk on feeling all refreshed and bright no longer carrying it on your shoulders, but then the sorrow wanders after you like a child who was lost in the supermarket weeping its eyes out and it says to you where did you GO I was lost! I was lost and I missed you!!! and you can only sigh and take it by its hand and say to it very well. here's your seat. I'm sorry I left you behind, I promise it was with the best of intentions, but I want to do my best by you, so let's sit together and try to figure out what you're saying to me.

[dinerfries]

signgirl