#metal bat can probably double jump

[spiderh0rse]

freeman's mind notes pt8, e36-40 (plus secret e0)

e36

delighted to put his hands on a gun again even if there's blood on it

he wants more things to shoot

doesn't think he's fired a gun before (second assertion of this fact) but it does feel familiar

has had a reoccurring dream of being Snoop Dogg

thinks the barnacles were made by the biology department

someone in Biology named Heather than Gordon tries to hit on sometimes. She is supposedly stone cold

calls himself The Freeman again

everyone was proud of the pollen that killed people

"goat cheese massacre"

return of the Fall Damage. Bemoans the lack of shock absorbers and drugs

confused at why he's wearing the HEV suit

vaguely remembers the ResCas proper

would not drink neon hi c ecto cooler

he doesn't like liars

black mesa is NOT a tourist trap

he is right tbh. Trespassers literally do have rights. You're supposed to make any unreasonable dangers clear and obvious. Warn with signage or some shit

aims to think like a squirrel that has anger problems

the nation of Freeman

yeah this sequence of events is normal and leads to promotions

e37

had some job interviews in grad school. Never knew how to answer their questions

thinks of the building as alive AGAIN

oh hey we're in the part of the facility that Physics of the Crowbar did astoundingly well

gotta avoid the blood shower :(

this gunk BETTER not get in his hair

he doesn't want to smell like mcdonalds

GROWLS

meat chunks in his hairrrrrrr

he no longer likes orange

he's 80% sure cheetos aren't made like this

undertow fuckin with him

his values have sunk since he woke up

prepared for when he gets Alzheimer's. He'll escape room his way out of the retirement home easy

wants a sword cane when he's old

you just shot a SNOT MONSTER, sir.

he remembers everything? (he does not) (he thinks the string theory crowd got into AnMat)

plans to sell the satchel charges to Eddie

yes the magnum does grant godlike ego

he isn't an optimist

this is NOT a democracy he has a GUN

"BLAH!!!"

freeman have you butchered animals before or

would love to land in a ballpit

naptime :>

bat JUMPSCARE he CANCELLED THE CREDITS. SHOCK. AWE.

e0

new intro. Tram ride to some vending machines.

attempts to flirt with the hazard course hologram

doesn't comment on the HEV suit's voice this time!

he's not coming back to the hazard course

only getting HEV suit training because he's capable of physical activity

derides the game-based language of the tutorial

"hup! hoo! hah!"

i WISH there was rubber padding around the knees of the suit

fatphobia,,

he always wanted to be a hamster man

finds the long jump module cool

"nreeeeeeoooow"

could press buttons all day!

Slur count: five.

e38

back to cafeteria intro

he can't sleep :(

HATES the room's vibes

self hypnotizes again. Lmao

TANK OF ACID! SUPERB!

he is a CAT

his faux-southern accent sucks so bad. hillbilly but worse

no come on you can dodge an incinerator

liked the Addams Family. Identified with the Thing, he says.

concrete corridor agnostic

double dead end!

he feels like strangling something.

feels like he wouldn't mind the nickname Dr. Stranglelove

growls again

backup backup gun dependency does rely on state yeah

he wanted a banana milkshake

he's talkin specbio,,,

he remembers lasers are BAD

limbos on by that awful tripmine

"BLLLAAAAAAHHHHHHH"

e39

[incoherent raging] followed by "wait! I have satchel charges!"

deeply comforted by having this amount of explosives. Wants to draw a smiley face on one

welllll the radiation sign is a bit off the requirement but that's a half life note not a freeman's mind note. He should know though

claims his geiger counter is trendy and fashionable

we have reached the non OSHA compliant location

he is clearly being sarcastic here but he does talk about seeing what was probably a mall santa

jello knees..... He's in painnnnn

this isn't even a SPA

he feels like he's in a sub in the cramped metal halls

back to the classroom analogy

it IS the amps that kill you yessirre

part of the opposable thumbs club!

takes the time to study the trapped alien grunt. Says it could get a management job

he hates biolabs :(

goes through the Atom Experience

incoherent babbling

he Remembers that everyone wants him dead. Shoots a probably innocent guard

now plans to kill the whole world

he's a gun farmer :>

usually when stuff goes long he concludes that everyone wants him dead

he's honestly a little relieved that he doesn't have to guess if people want him dead or not

doesn't recognize the vox

GRAPPLING HOOK MENTION

e40

new intro, shotgun-elevator shaft

the eternal issue of understaffing: doing weird bullshit always

"superbus" w/e well superbia is pride so I'd imagine this is "greatness" followed by whatever words he isn't reading

he isn't reading them because he doesn't know latin

human body staircase,,

door conspiracy!

actually thinks before he pushes a button

"woah-hoho-oh..."

hiccups :(

he gets really nervous after killing people

oh the subtitles have suddenly cut out

his normal work was in quantum mechanics and general relativity

stumbles over his saying "I don't know"

"there's no actual right to privacy but it's implied by the rest of the constitution. And this gun,"

prototype cheese slicer or pita cutter- you decide

HE CAN'T HELP ANYONE IF THEY'RE NOT CALM

RELAX AND FOLLOW THE SOUND OF HIS VOICE

back to hitting any button he sees

he is never going to ask for yellow space maggots jumping at his face

a list of things that makes freeman happy: lasers, food, painkillers, bed rest, not being persecuted, getting his life back on track. Lasers may be listed first here but it is below the rest of these

avoids the gauss gun

seeing body parts lying around used to bother him

wants to sprinkle cloned body parts lying places and tape people finding em

big laser? Badass.

gonna shoot down a satellite with that baby

[illarian-rambling]

😨 They accidentally break a vase. No one is around. What do they do?

Izjik likes to run indoors, so that's probably how she broke it. I'd say she'd try unsuccessfully to fix it, then buy a new one that looks nothing like the old one. She assumes no one will notice because she definitely wouldn't.

I can see Sepo getting mad enough to throw a vase, then immediately regretting it. He'd buy a new one, but he'd actually manage to find one that looks the same, so probably no one would notice.

Twenari isn't always the most careful when practicing her sorcery. If she broke a vase, she'd be able to fix it with magic. She'd be tempted to fess up, but doesn't want to get the 'no sorcery in the house' lecture, so she'd leave it be.

Djek would do some dumb shit like throwing darts while blindfolded. He wouldn't be able to fix it, so he'd hide the evidence and pretend to be just as shocked as everyone else when the vase is found to be missing.

Astra likes to dance with wild abandon, so that's probably how the vase got broken. Thanks to her runes, she'd be able to fix it with ease. No one would ever have to know.

Mashal isn't the most coordinated person, and it's not going to take much force from a thousand pound metal man to break a vase. He'd feel very guilty and fess up promptly, offering to pay for the damages. (He doesn't have any money, but he'd find a way)

Ivander also isn't the most coordinated and likes to swing his cane around for dramatic effect. He wouldn't feel too bad about it and would offer to pay for the damage right off the bat rather than attempting to fix it.

Elsind is usually quite careful, but mistakes happen. He'd be distraught, try and fail to fix it before anyone noticed, then depending on who the vase belonged to, either confess or hide the evidence.

Avymere sometimes pays their guards to jump out at them in surprise places to practice being attacked unawares, so I can easily see a vase getting broken while doing this. If it isn't their vase, they'd apologize profusely and pay at least double the cost to replace it.

Thanks for the ask!

[hound-tooth]

hear me out ok

[emwritesstuff]

housesitting | bucky barnes x reader

summary: Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything.

You can hardly see how Bucky Barnes stumbling into his apartment at 3 am with multiple wounds is one of them. But I guess it might be?

notes: this is my attempt at a more ~comedy centered one-shot, with some making out in the middle because uh, who doesn’t like that? In other news, reader is Chaotic. Canon mcu (Infinity War/Endgame) is non-existent in this.  (word count: 3K)

warnings: language, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, general patching up shenanigans, some making out/grinding but not quite third base

[PART 2: breaking and entering]

Housesitting for Steve Rogers has many perks. The man has the comfiest bed you’ve ever slept in; his coffee machine is top tier; and he also pays for every single streaming service you could think of, because he doesn’t wanna miss anything. An old popsicle thing, you assume.

It’s peaceful, too. The neighborhood is nice and quiet, the other tenants are either extremely polite or too scared of Captain America to make much noise. You’ve had very nice stay-cations at his place, where you were free to choose to binge The Office while eating an entire pizza in the spam of 2 episodes or taking advantage of the quiet to write your grad-school thesis.

So when a loud BANG almost makes you drop your coffee mug on the floor, your spidey senses are immediately on alert. You don’t care how many times Peter insisted that it wasn’t a thing, your arm hairs stood up and your heart started hammering on your chest all the same.

You contemplate squeezing under the bed, turning off the show that was long abandoned and hiding until whatever it is goes away, but before you can do any of that, a string of sharp cursing and soft thumps and thuds snaps you out of your fear.

Maybe it’s a burglar. You could take a clumsy burglar, easy.

Now feeling like Tony had just welcomed you into the Avengers, you hop off Steve’s bed and let your baby Yoda socked feet carry you stealthily into the living room, holding a table lamp as if it was a baseball bat.

Everything is quiet, with no signs of forced entry at the door (you remember someone on Law and Order using those words), and in the dark you don’t notice the bloody trail coming from the kitchen.

You’re imagining things, then. When was the last time you slept? You don’t even feel tired, but you know sleep deprivation always gets you all kinds of crazy.

It happens the second your arm falls to your side and your posture shows the slight of relaxation. A strong arm around your neck and a hand against your mouth to muffle the screaming.

In the quiet of Steve’s apartment building, there is only you shrieking and howling and thrashing against the hold of a stranger.

“Don’t fuckin’ move.” You still.

And then you bite into the hand that is muting you, immediately regretting it when your teeth sink into something hard. Metal? Concrete? Ouch. You resume your resistance, determined, and is shoved away.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you.” His voice is gruff and dulled over the mask he is wearing, and as you’re taking this giant of a man in, you notice it.

The metal arm. The strapped leather jacket. The tortured blue eyes.

Winter Soldier.

The intruder is James “Bucky” Barnes, Steve’s best friend. That’s who the fuck it is.

“I’m Steve’s house sitter! I even have a key.” You say, with arms in front of you to signal no harm but inching closer to the table lamp with every step.

“House…sitter? Where’s Steve?”

“Who knows. Maybe a mission. He texts me, I come over.” You shrug, and put a chair back to where it was before it got knocked over.

“I don’t believe you. Where is Steve?”

“Listen, I don’t know, okay? I guess he’s just out for a few days. I don’t ask. He just lets me stay in here so I can water the plants and feed the Avengers.”

“The– the what?”

“The Avengers! The fish, see.” You point to the aquarium, where a handful of colorful fish swam peacefully in.

Peace. So much for your peace, because now what you have is a surly super soldier eyeing the fish tank like it was the most loathsome thing in the entire universe, except maybe for you.

“I hate this thing. Naming them makes it even worse.” He trudges back to the kitchen, stomping on the floor like he was on a parade.

So much for the other people’s peace, too.

“Hey! Sir. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s 3 in the fucking morning?” You sass, putting your hands on your hips when he retorts that yeah, he does know. “What are you even doing here?”

“Back from a mission.” He grumbles without looking at you, as if you’re the one who stumbled into his place in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t your place, but still.

“Don’t you have a house?” There’s a part of you that knows pushing the Winter Soldier’s buttons is asking for trouble, but your tired and confused brain decides to ignore it.

“You interrogating me? I need a motherfucking– ” He wheezes and nearly doubles over, holding on the door frame between the living room and the kitchen. You finally spot the blood, both on the tiles and seeping out of the Soldier’s jacket and pants.

He’s hurt. Shit.

“– first aid kit.”

“You need a motherfucking hospital!” You shrill, panic chilling your bones. You don’t do blood. Or any kind of wound, for that matter.

The man ignores you, opening up cabinets hastily. You huff, and walk past him to get to the actual home of the first aid kit. Steve’s oldest, closest friend and can’t even find a box with pharmaceutical supplies in his kitchen. You slam it on the counter next to him.

“You’re welcome.”

“Zip it.”

Just a look from him is enough to render you speechless, and not in the good, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. You’re positive that one swat of that metal arm and you’ll be flying out of the window.

He begins by removing his mask, revealing a handsome face underneath, and you try your best to focus on how dark and menacing it looked while locked in that scowl of his. Then, he unbuckles his jacket and discards it on the floor, it coming to a stop next to your feet.

Oh man, he’s naked. Well, not really, just the incredibly toned, strong and muscular top half of him, but you stare wide-eyed as if he was.

“See somethin’ you like, doll?” He quips, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and you turn your back to him, mostly to hide your own embarrassment.

“No.” You cross your arms resolutely, because you definitely don’t think he’s attractive. He is a rude, grumpy, private-property-invader-bastard. Doll. Yuck.

You hear a rumble come out of his chest. Is he laughing? Shithead. Other noises follow, wheezes, small grunts and the tinkle of metal on the marble counter.

A particular pained grunt makes you turn, and you see Barnes with his body twisted, trying to reach a bloody hole on his back. It would be funny if he wasn’t trying to poke a gunshot.

“Do you need… help?” You ask, against your own will, only to be met with his icy gaze.

“No.”

“Come on, you can’t even reach that.”

Another glare is shot your way, and you quirk your brow up. He did need the help, you think, because aside from the muscles and the sweat making him glisten like a delicious – wait what – glazed donut, the man looked like hell.

“…fine.” He slides a pair of surgical prongs, something you identify in your head as oversized tweezers, and you instantly regret your offer. Pressing an iodine-soaked cotton ball to a wound, sure. But not this.

He turns his back to you without a word, supporting himself on the marble. You think that he’s about to make a dent on the goddamn stone if he keeps holding onto it that hard.

“Ah, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Ugh, it’s so gross. Fuck.”

It’s the most horrifying thing you’ve ever done, but you try your best to get to the bullet quickly, so very thankful that Barnes holds himself perfectly still for you. “Got it!”

He lets out a long breath when you toss the prongs and the bullet on the counter with the rest and resumes his cleanup. So, he’s not even going to say thanks. Great.

You try not to think about how you still want to make conversation while you hurriedly scrub the blood from your hands, because aside from the hostility and him jumping on you as a meet-cute, the guy peeks your interest.

Steve has said Barnes is nice, too, and you believed Steve, because he’s basically incapable of lying. Or maybe because he’s pretty. Both, for sure.

With your hands now clean, you turn to him, mouth open with some kind of conversation starter that is immediately forgotten.

Oh man, he’s naked. For real this time.

Bucky Barnes has stepped out of his pants while you were overthinking by the sink, now standing in only a pair of black boxers. It’s like he feels you staring at his butt, because he turns to you with raised eyebrows.

“Last one’s on my thigh. I got it.” He’s holding the prongs this time, and you’re glad you don’t have to do anything, because your face next to that groin might make you go into spontaneous combustion.

“Yeah.”

He hums. You hope all of this is a fever dream.

“Isn’t there a med bay at–”

“Don’t like people prodding and pokin’ at me.” His comment makes you grimace. He’s the Winter Soldier, damn it. You know the stories, everyone does. Of course he doesn’t like being prodded.

He looks at you funny, probably because you went dead quiet. You don’t want him to think you feel pity, because you don’t, but god don’t you feel bad for poking him now, even if verbally.

“I’m gonna – grab one of Steve’s – uh. Dude you need to put some clothes on. Jesus.”

He laughs at you again, which you’re thankful for because anything is better than the awkwardness of the other subject. You pick up a black pair of sweatpants that was so deep in one of Steve’s drawers that you know he’d have to have bought it and never had the guts to put it on. This one would do just fine.

If there is one thing Steve Rogers isn’t, is a black sweats guy.

“Here.” You deposit the sweats and a white tee on the counter, one of the millions that you found inside the closet. Barnes was patching himself up now, bandages wrapped everywhere on his body.

Got his ass kicked good. You shudder when you imagine the state of the other guy.

He eyes the clothes, and saying nothing, returns to his task. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“Yeah, but I did anyways! ‘Cause I’m stupid, I guess.” You almost hurl a dirty plate at him when he scoffs, muttering a yeah, guess you are. “God, why are you so grumpy?”

“Well you try being shot 5 times and see how cheerful you are after.”

“You got shot 5 times?!”

Looking at you from between his brows, the Soldier nods to the five mangled bullets sitting on the counter. You think about how you’ve made yourself a sandwich just hours earlier on the exact same spot. You want to puke.

Taking time to look around yourself, you can finally grasp the state of Steve’s ever-so-pristine kitchen, now a mess of dirty clothes, blood and your own few dishes from the night before. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you move, gathering every single cleaning supply you can find, and start working on the cleanup.

You’re struggling, because obviously you’ve never done this before. Anyone can tell, from your soft abdomen and your severe lack of muscle, that you’re not an Avenger. Sure, you work with them, but you’re usually neck deep into advanced tech, not in the gym by any means. Also, you don’t do blood.

That means you have to think about something else, anything else, while you’re manically cleaning the floor. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, the Winter Soldier’s tight ass, four sheep, get it together goddamnit –

“Leave it. I’ll clean.”

You huff, he huffs back, and you look up at him.

“You got shot five times. Go sit down or something before you blow your back too, grandpa.” You call him that to assure yourself that he is old, like actually super old, and thirsting over him is weird. Even weirder when he’s all bandaged and bleeding. And still shirtless. Shit.

He mumbles something that you ignore, and stomps off. You think you actually did a pretty decent job with the cleaning, considering.

You need coffee. Definitely an entire bottle of vodka too, but there was no alcohol in this god’s good home, so you settle for the brew that you made earlier. You pour a mug for Barnes too, because you’re nice like that, and amble into the living room to find him slumped on a chair.

“Coffee?” You start, settling his mug on the table next to him.

“It’s almost 5 a.m.”

“Guess I’m up early for once. Maybe I should go for a run.”

He snorts, and opens one eye to inspect you from where he is. He reaches out for the coffee, using his metal hand, and you consider the two ways this could go.

He’d shatter the mug right then and there. Or, he’d throw it at you. Your jaw goes slack at what he actually does, sirens blaring loudly in your head. Truly astonishing, the most bewildering turn of events.

He drinks from it.

“Thanks. Quit staring at me.”

“Wow, Mr. Winter knows the magic words. Mr. Barnes. Sergeant?” You’re thinking aloud, abandoning any trace of sanity you’ve been holding. You even sit on the couch next to his armchair.

“It’s Bucky,”

Again, absolutely bewildering. You must be going insane.

“– and you talk too much.” He finishes, with an end-of-story tone, and returns to his rest. At least that felt like normality.

“Bucky. Bucky.” You roll the name on your tongue, feeling a weird buzz start to take over you. It grows stronger when you notice he’s looking at you, one brow quirked as if you lost your marbles. “You know, Bucky, this is definitely not how I saw my night going. Home invasion, playing surgeon – not my usual kind of fun.”

You get up, maybe because you decide that you – and Bucky – need a blanket, or maybe because you need a distraction from his chest going up and down like it’s got a business with making you want to touch it.

You’re not a slut, but who knows? Jim Halper would get it.

“You’re that kid, aren’t you? Stark’s assistant.” Bucky’s voice, low and husky, makes you jump. You look at him, your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

It’s surprising that he knows you, considering. He’s – well, he’s basically a celebrity, if ex-assassins could be considered that. You’re only Tony’s techie, and you and Bucky have never actually met, not even in the few parties you had attended to stop your boss from nagging you that you had to actually go out and have some fun sometimes, because you’re still young and cute and you need to enjoy yourself before you get saggy and bitter.

Jokes on him, you were born bitter.

“I’m no kid.”

“Nice socks.”

You wiggle your toes and it makes the ears of one of the baby Yodas move.

“Still not a kid! If you wanna be sad and wear your sad, plain socks, Bucky, that’s entirely your choice.” You said, pointing your index at him, making circles in the air with it to really get your point across.

Bucky smirks, and you go up to him with the two blankets on your arms. He’s blocking the door with that bulky body of his, and you raise your eyebrows quizzically.

“I’ll have you know – meeting Steve’s annoying, mouthy, pretty house sitter is not how I saw my night going either.” Bucky puts a doubtful tone on house sitter, as if he still doesn’t get exactly what it means.

You blink. You’re positive you heard it wrong. Is he… is this flirting?

“You think I’m pretty?”

“I called you annoying and mouthy too.”

“Yeah, I mean I know that much about me.” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “The pretty part is new though.”

Bucky still hasn’t moved from the doorframe, and you find yourself staring up at him. He is inches away now, pupils blown wide in the darkness, and you can see a ring of steely blue around them. He licks his lips, and you’re drawn in.

The maelstrom in his eyes sends you spinning.

“I think someone should say you’re not see through, much less–”

Bucky shuts you up by pressing his lips onto yours, a slow, exploratory kiss, the tenderest he’s been all night. His metal hand rests on your lower back, making you shiver at the cool touch.

You’re all panting and eagerness when you cup his face with both hands and press your body against his. You need to deepen this kiss. You haven’t drooled over Bucky Barnes all night to keep things lovey-dovey.

He responds in earnest, pulling you closer. The flesh hand on the back of your neck is a stark contrast against the chill of the other. You and Bucky stumble from the corridor and back to the living room, knocking over a few of Steve’s decorations in the process.

“I don’t feel as bad for this one.” You mumble against his lips, stopping to look at a particular framed picture of Captain America in uniform, surrounded by every single counterfeit Cap in Times Square.

“S’ one of his favorites.”

You nod, you’re aware. Steve thinks it’s the most hilarious thing ever.

Bucky’s breath tickles the hairs on your neck when he continues.

“I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

You capture his lips again, and you two resume your chaotic redecorating. You’re thankful for Bucky’s strong arms keeping you from falling over, because at this point you’re not sure if your legs work anymore.

He takes you with him when he drops down on the same armchair from earlier, and the dizzy spell you find yourself in is broken when you hear him groan.

Right. He’s battered up and stuff.

“Shit, Bucky, I’m sorry–”

“No.” He pulls you close again, and guides your body to straddle one of his thighs. “Stay right here, doll.”

Doll. God-fucking-damnit.

His hand moves under the elastic band of your pants, oh my god you’re making out with Bucky-Hot-Piece-Of-Ass-Barnes in your wiener dog pajama bottoms, and finds the hem of your underwear. He pulls on it, and you yelp when he lets it snap against your side.

He laughs, and you vibrate along with his chest.

You find yourself grinding on his leg, sucking on his bottom lip, raking your nails along his shoulders, doing anything, everything for more, trying to burn the taste and the feel of him on your memory. He moves on to kiss your neck and you sigh, tugging on his hair and making sure you’re holding on for dear life.

Your eyes flutter open, enough to see the fish Avengers in their tank.

The Avengers.

Steve Rogers is an Avenger. So is Bucky, technically.

You’re making out with Bucky. One of his hands is on your boob.

This is Steve’s apartment.

You manage to sober you up enough, despite Bucky’s constant attacks of open mouth kisses and bites on your neck.

“I don’t think Steve would – if we–” You lift your head begrudgingly to look at him. “You know, on his armchair.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced, but his hand moved up from your butt to your waist again.

Steve Rogers was probably miles away right now and still cockblocking you.

Even worse, his furniture was cockblocking you.

Stupid star-spangled IKEA shopper.

And his hot best friend. Who’s currently smiling at you in a such a way that makes you almost abandon all comradery towards Rogers and the sanctity of his place.

You debate getting up, but resign yourself to burying your nose in the crook of Bucky’s neck and just staying there, because honestly, when are you going to have the chance to do this again. Never, that’s when.

Also, he’s surprisingly comfortable for someone with a metal arm and such a jacked-up body.

“You’re sleepy.”

“No, I’m like, super awake.”

It’s a lie, because now that the sparks have flown and the rush of blood in your ears gave way to the quietness of the early morning, you feel yourself drifting, on and off, surprising yourself when you come to once and find that Bucky is still there, warm under you.

“Sleep, doll. I need it too.”

You shift, ready to let his rhythmic breathing lull you to sleep. The last 75 sleepless hours catch up with you.

“Bucky? If you want to break into someone’s house again sometime – I have a first aid kit too. Just sayin’.”

[mellointheory]

inhaling smoke, i just awoke pt. 2

Red is curled up on his couch, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a rapidly cooling styrofoam cup of instant noodles clasped between his hands. He ate about half of it before he got distracted by the tv, and the rest served better as a heat source, honestly. It was criminal how cold his apartment was; he was wearing his earmuffs inside, for God’s sake.

There’s a knock on the door and he looks up, setting the cup of cold, soggy noodles on the coffee table. He gets up, still swathed in his blanket, and shuffles across the floor to open the front door. Antfrost is standing there, wearing the same thick green coat from earlier that day, with a long shape that looks suspiciously like a firearm strapped to his back underneath it.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

“I’m always ready.” Red pulls his blanket off and balls it up, chucking it back over at the couch. He picks up his baseball bat, giving it a quick once over to check the coat of red and white paint, then slots it into the straps on his back. His bag is sitting next to the door, the velvet pockets lining the inside carefully packed with the pots that he’d chosen. The sedatives Antfrost had requested, swirl pale yellow in their black cushioning. He’s brought some additional ones just in case; shimmering harsh pinks and purples and blues in the shadows of his bag. Antfrost peers inside his bag and nods in approval.

“How far away is it?” Red asks, stepping outside and closing the door behind him. Antfrost leans against the door while Red locks it, his face peering out of the depths of his green hood. His eyes do glow a little, soft blue light that Red would probably have to get very, very close to have reach him. He adds that to the bucket list.

“It’s close enough to walk; we should have time. And I don’t want to get there until after the doors close.” Antfrost turns and starts walking. His tail is tucked away again, safe from the cold that bites at Red’s hands and face when he follows.

“Can I call you Ant?” He asks. “Antfrost is kinda long, you know.”

Ant shrugs. “I guess I don’t mind.”

“Fantastic. Okay, and what’s your plan then?” Red shoves his hands into his pockets as they reach the street. It’s snowing again. Flakes land in his hair and on his shoulders and melt when they touch his skin.

“They close the doors after everyone’s finished betting.” Red can tell from the bitterness and focus in Ant’s voice that this wasn’t a spontaneous thing; he’s been planning this for a long time. “It’s a warehouse that they took over and repurposed. There’s still catwalks on the ceiling and ways to get in from above. I can drop the gas you made and knock them all out and steal the chimeras.”

“That seems like a solid plan.” Red agrees. “What were you planning before you got me to make this for you, though?”

Ant taps his waist. “I was gonna try to get them with the tranq darts I have, but this will be a lot more effective.”

Red shudders at the thought. “You know tranq darts aren’t immediate, right? They take time to work into your bloodstream.”

Ant is silent. Red quickens his pace to catch up--he has longer legs than him, but the cat hybrid moves with more speed and lightness than he does--and looks the man in the eyes. Ant is only about half a head shorter than him, but the hybrid has his shoulders hunched and is looking down so Red has to lean over a bit.

“You knew that, didn’t you?” He repeats.

Antfrost squints up one eye gingerly. “Maybe….?”

“Jesus, you’re lucky you found me.” Red straightens up and continues walking.

“Well, I’m not sure about that yet,” Antfrost mumbles. Red chuckles.

He can tell when they’re getting close to the chimera fights, because he can hear the cheering. Antfrost pushes his hood back as they approach, his head craned up to scan the side of the warehouse. His ears twitch, little flakes of snow falling on the soft fur and standing out against the dark brown in the harsh lights of the warehouse.

“There’s a ladder over there.” Ant points up, bounding lightly over to the rungs. As he runs his tail untucks from wherever it was hidden away, furling out behind him. It swishes in Red’s face when he mounts the ladder after the hybrid, almost brushing his skin. He wrinkles his nose, eyes crossing when he tries to focus on it.

The snow on top of the warehouse is undisturbed except for Ant’s footprints in it. Red follows the hybrid across the roof to the mouth of a heating vent that arcs from the concrete. The metal tube channels sound and warm air up from the warehouse inside; one of them welcome and the other not. He can hear cheering, and snarling. Ant’s ears flatten back against his skull at the sound and his tail begins whipping around like an angry snake. There’s a quiet growl that Red half thinks is coming from the hybrid’s throat.

“What now?” Red asks, partially to distract Ant from whatever rage is welling up inside his little catboy heart.

“Inside.” Ant ducks over and clambers inside the mouth of the vent. Red glances down inside before he follows. It’s a short drop that Ant somehow managed to make silently, then the thing levels out. He adjusts the bag slung over his back and eases himself down inside as slowly as possible. Nevertheless there’s a quiet clang as his boots hit the metal, and Antfrost hisses a quick shush at him. Red drops to his hands and knees and starts crawling down the vent after the hybrid.

“There’ve been far nicer reasons for me to get on my knees for someone,” he whispers. His voice echoes a little against the metal walls. It’s dark in the vent, and he can only barely see the movement of Ant’s tail in front of him. It’s a pity, just a couple more degrees of visibility and he’d see something much more pleasant to look at.

“This is a little bit more important than sucking dick,” Antfrost’s voice wafts back at him.

“Agree to disagree.” Red says. The noise of the cheering below them is now too loud for him to hear what Ant says in reply.

Antfrost’s back drops down from Red’s view and he sees the vent has opened up. When he looks out he finds a catwalk spanning the ceiling of the warehouse, with Antfrost already crouched on top of it. Below them is a throng of the cheering, shouting audience surrounding a ring in the center of the floor made out of concrete barriers. Two chimeras are fighting in the ring, a blur of blood and fur and scales. Red has a strong stomach for gore, but that doesn’t mean he finds it at all pleasant to see what the things are doing to each other.

He lands on the catwalk next to Antfrost. The hybrid jumps, then shakes himself.

“Give me the sedative,” Ant whispers, holding out his hand. His eyes are focused on the ring below.

Red reaches into his bag and pulls out one of the glass bottles; luminous pale yellow liquid swirling behind the glass. He reaches to put it in Ant’s palm, then pauses.

“What’s your tolerance level?” He asks.

“What?”

“Chemical tolerance. You’re a hybrid--it’s definitely been documented for you.” Hybrids are treated like second class citizens; shuffled around to keep more survivable areas of the city habitable for normal humans. Most hybrids have their chemical tolerance marked down somewhere so the government knows what areas they can dump them in without having them immediately die. Red has unusually high tolerance for a human, which is part of why he chose this line of work.

“I don’t know, seven?” Ant whispers back.

“It’s on a scale of one to a hundred, idiot.” Red reaches into his bag and fumbles around for a mask. There’s a screech from the creatures below.

“Red, they’re dying.” Ant says, trying to snatch the bottle out of Red’s hand. Red relents and shoves it into the hybrid’s palm. He pulls out the other two bottles he’s prepared, waiting as Ant arches back his arm to throw.

It’s a work of art, his aim. The first bottle lands directly in the thick of the audience and shatters, the liquid inside turning to gas the second air touches it. It balloons outward, clogging the air with thick yellow mist. Antfrost grabs the second bottle and hurls it so it breaks directly in front of the double doors that serve as the exit. The people down below are panicking; it’s like stepping on an anthill.

Red is good at his craft. A few seconds, and they’re already collapsing. Antfrost throws the last bottle; ensuring the entire warehouse floor is coated with heavy yellow fog. There are hybrids and cyborgs, here and there, who are only momentarily confused by the attack from above, whose systems are too resilient to the gas and are now gathering their bearings. One of them looks up and sees them.

Antfrost tackles Red to the catwalk. It shakes when they hit the metal and he’s momentarily stunned, to stunned to even protest. He still hasn’t gained his breath back when one of the cyborgs on the floor opens fire, bullets punching into the railing and barely missing them. Ant leaps off Red, whipping a crossbow out from under his coat. He aims down below, pulling the trigger. Red is still on his back trying to reinflate his lungs, and he can’t see if Ant managed to hit any of his targets.

A bullet strikes uncomfortably close to his head and he rolls upright, charging across the catwalk with one hand shoved into his bag. He fumbles for a bottle, then stumbles as something severs one of the wires from which the catwalk is hung. There’s the screech of metal and they plummet.

The good news: most of the onlookers collapsed near the edges of the room, not in the center where they fall, and the only casualties are two of the four hostiles still on their feet. The bad news: there are still two people trying to kill them.

Red Red struggles to his feet, yanking his baseball bat out from the straps on his back. Antfrost glances over at him, just for a moment, then leaps backwards as the cyborg swings a fist at him.

Red doesn’t have time to spare concern for Ant, because there’s a hybrid with claws and fangs and a nasty grin on her face charging at him. She has three arrows bristling from her shoulder, and she’s unsteady on her feet. He sidesteps, grips his bat firmly in both hands, and slams it into her shin. She collapses, lashing out at him with a clawed hand. He hops backwards on one foot to avoid her, stomps the tip of the bat to the ground to stabilize himself. She lurches forward, dragging herself with her good side, and sinks her claws into his calf. Red’s first reaction is, he must admit, a dumb one. He tears himself away and is rewarded with claws ripping through the muscle of his leg. Fucking Christ it hurts.

He falls just out of the reach of the hybrid. She has too much tranquilizer in her bloodstream to get up again and she’s already going under. Red tries to reach for his black bag only to realize he dropped it when the catwalk fell.

Catwalk.

Cat.

Antfrost.

He snaps his head up to see Ant dangling from the grip of the cyborg. The hybrid snarls, his hands wound around the arm at his throat. His claws are fully extended and scrabbling against the black metal.

Red screams the first thing he can think of as loud as possible.

“HEY, CUM SLUT.”

The cyborg whips his head towards Red, glowing yellow eyes narrowing. His grip loosens in his momentary distraction, and Ant thrashes forward, sinking his teeth into the man’s shoulder, where metal meets flesh. Red wonders what he has to do to get the catboy to bite him like that.

The cyborg hisses a swear and slams Antfrost to the concrete. Red panics and grabs the fallen baseball bat on the ground next to him. He hurls it towards the fallen hybrid.

A brown-furred hand snaps up and snatches the bat out of the air. Ant rolls backwards, dodging a punch from the cyborg, and leaps to his feet. He bends his knees, grips the bat, and swings.

Red painted that bat months ago in red-and-white stripes out of paint he mixed himself. It was combined with a little chemical mixture that turned acidic when it moved at a fast enough velocity. Red had never been able to swing it fast enough to get those decorative stripes to transform into something that could burn through whatever it hit in milliseconds

.Antfrost, on the other hand, can.

The bat sheers straight through both of the cyborgs legs, eating through the metal like it was butter. The cyborg hits the ground, his legs severed at the knee.

Ant gives an incredulous look at the bat in his hand, then lowers it and bounds over to Red.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“Claws.” Red says brightly, trying to ignore the warmth seeping from his leg and the burn of the gashes through his muscle. He likes pain sometimes, in certain circumstances, but these are not the type of circumstances he tends to enjoy.

“Do you have a painkiller in your bag?” Antfrost drops to his knees next to Red.

He screws up his face. “Something like that.”

Ant turns and leaps over a few inert bodies, grabbing Red’s bag from the wreckage of the fallen catwalk and bring it over. He puts it down and latches his hands under Red’s arms, pulling him into a sitting position.

Red unzips the bag and pulls out a small vial that shimmers a tantalizing blue.

“You know, they say never get high off your own supply,” he says wryly as he uncaps it, “but this is an exception.”

It tastes like melon milk and fizzes a little as it goes down. Damn, he really is a good producer. The lady who ran the pharmacy he worked at couldn’t make one of these taste good for the life of her.

The pain in his leg fades and he relaxes. Antfrost has climbed into the ring and is picking up the two sedated chimeras, carrying them carefully to the empty cages next to the ring and laying them down inside. He takes the cages outside through a small door labeled Exit, and through a rising haze of uncanny calmness, Red wonders if he’s just leaving. He would be concerned about it, but even with his high tolerance the drink he took is getting to him. He doesn’t feel high or buzzed, just calm.

Ant runs back inside, empty handed this time, and comes over to Red. He bends down to look him in the eyes.

“Are you—were your eyes always that…shiny?” Ant asks.

“Yeah, it’s from exposure.” Red replies. He stares back into Antfrost’s eyes: large blue wells, with his pupils widened in the low light.

“All the chimeras are loaded into a truck out back. Can I carry you?”

“You can pick me up any day, Ant.” Red tells him.

The hybrid slides his arms under Res’s back and legs and heaves him up, walking carefully to the door. His arms are warm and his fur is soft where it brushes against Red’s skin.

Antfrost helps him climb into the passenger’s seat, then runs around the front of the truck to sit behind the wheel. He starts it with the keys still in the ignition and spins the wheel, pulling out from behind the warehouse.

Their section of the city is already near the outskirts, and the drive probably doesn’t take long. Probably. Red’s thoughts wander as Ant drives, thinking about animals and chimeras and acid paint. He snaps back to reality when they’ve officially left the city. It’s easy to tell, because outside is a wasteland of hills and trash.

Ant pulls over on the side of the road and stops the truck.

“Can you walk?”

Red glances down at his leg thoughtfully. The effect of his mixture is wearing off, and it stings slightly, but he nods anyway.

They unload the cages one at a time, driving a little way in between each one. The chimeras run as soon as Ant opens the cages, smart enough to head for the hills.

The last one they unload is the larger of the two that were in the ring when they broke in. It’s still sedated, so Ant leaves the door wide open and then sits on the ramp of the truck to wait for it to wake up.

Red climbs up beside him, shivering a little at the cold night air. “What about the other one?”

Antfrost casts a glance back into the truck. “It’s not doing so good. Too hurt to let out.”

Red looks at the cage with the aforementioned creature. It’s some kind of cat creature with horns and spikes on its back, its shoulder torn open in the fight. It sleeps fitfully.

“Are you sure they’ll survive out here?” He asks.

Ant rests his chin in his hands, hunching his shoulders. “I mean, I did.”

“You lived out here?”

Ant nods. “I’m not actually from Hypixel City. I lived out here until some people came promising opportunities and riches. It was bullshit. I was barely any different from them.” He nods at the still sleeping chimeras in their cages.

“They made you fight?”Ant nods. “For a while. Then Bad came and got me out.”

Red stares at Ant’s ears and the velvet-soft fur on them, the pads on the palms of his hands, the twitch of his nose. He sneezes, rubbing at his whiskers with one hand. Red wonders about the kind of madman who looks at the catboy sitting next to him and forces him to fight in a pit for entertainment.

“I’m cold.” Antfrost says suddenly. Red deliberates for a second, then scoots over and wraps a hand around the hybrid’s shoulders.

“What about you?” Ant asks, staring at the open cage on the ground and the sleeping chimera inside.

“What about my past? Well, nowhere near as bad as you.” Red laughs at the thought of comparing their childhoods. “I have unusually high tolerance for a human, so i started working for a pharmacist. Maybe I accidentally mixed something wrong and blew up the area.”

Ant gives him a sideways look. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

The hybrid chuckles, letting his head rest on Red’s shoulder. “Thanks for doing this, Red.”

“For you? Anything.” The words are bold, but he’s not in the mood to hold back his thoughts at the moment.

Ant doesn’t reply, but there’s an unmistakable rumble in his chest that Red immediately identifies as a purr. They sit there for a long time, under the moon in a wasteland, waiting for a creature to wake up and leave its cage.

They talk, about colors and toxins and friendships and names. They sit there until the chimera wakes up slowly, stretching its limbs, and scrambles out of its cage as fast as possible.

And in a toxic wasteland under a yellow moon, sitting on a stolen truck, Red kisses the love of his life for the first time.

Three years later and he wakes up to the chill of a winter morning.

Antfrost is lying next to him, curled around him to soak up as much heat as possible. Red moves to get up, but his boyfriend mumbles something in protest and somehow wiggles even closer to him. Red relents and lies back down, wrapping his arms around the hybrid.

And, finally, his hands aren’t cold.

[obsidiancreates]

Freezer Duty (Part Two)

"Okay, okay!" Cheyenne shouts. Everyone is gathered in the warehouse, shouting and holding money. "Guys, settle down! This is simple, okay? If you think Jonah is a vampire put your money in this stupid fedora-"

She holds up said Fedora, a hat that Jonah has tried many times to wear and has been relentlessly mocked for each and every time.

"-and if you think he isn't a vampire, put your money in this crazy big mug!" She holds up a novelty mug that says 'My hair is as slick as my moves'.

Bets are placed, and the games truly begin.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah looks at the customer and nods as they drone on about... something. He's trying very hard to focus on what, but it's just impossible. His lunch was completely unsatisfying, and he's still tired as hell.

"-so then the bagel caught fire-"

He just feels groggy and sick. And he's freezing! He even put his jacket on under his vest, and he's still cold! If only he had one of those cardigans from college with him...

"-and anyway, I just hope this won't turn out the same way."

Jonah nods along for a minute more before registering that the "conversation" is finally over. "Okay, well, good luck with that, ma'am," he says with a tired smile.

"Thank you, um... Joe-neh.”

“It-it’s Jonah, actually- and she walked away. Okay.” Jonah sighs and yawns, stretching his arms. He accidentally swings then out too wide, and knocks something over right onto the ground.

He jumps at the sheer volume of the impact! “WHAT IN THE-”

A barbell in a box smashes against the ground, denting the floor.

“How did- who- where-” Jonah looks around, trying to spot someone who would misplace a barbell into grocery!

He kneels down to take a look. It’s cracked the floor significantly.

He looks at his hand. It’s not even red where he accidentally punched the absurdly heavy weight. He struggles with grocery bags more often than not, and yet this- whatever this even is- happened?!

“Gotta be at an angle,” he mutters to himself. He puts his hands on the shelf, rubbing it, crouching down and examining it closely. “Just slid off at the lightest touch, clearly.”

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“Wow.” Mateo looks at Brett. “How did you even get that over there? It must weigh like, a million pounds.”

Brett gives no reply. Nor any indication that he heard Mateo at all. 

“Fine then,” Mateo says, offended. “Well, that’s a point for the ‘vampire’ better for sure.”

“Totally.” Cheyenne is already marking it down in her notebook.

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Dina watches Jonah on the security cams. “Let’s see how you like this one.” She pulls out her walkie-talkie. “Do it now, Garrett.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right?”

“Just do it!”

At the customer service desk, Garrett sighs and pulls out his phone. He taps an audio file, and holds it up to his mic.

Dina watches Jonah like a hawk.

First his head lifts up, clearly confused, and then after a moment he claps his hands over his ears. Over the camera she hears him shout, “What the hell is that?!”

Customer turn and looks at him with bewilderment, and looks around. 

Jonah looks around too, somewhat distressed.

“Ha!” Dina stands up a little and points at her monitor. “Superhuman hearing!”

“Hey, Dina?” Garrett says over the walkie. “What is this supposed to be doing, exactly?”

“That’s a frequency human ears can’t hear, but Jonah just did,” she says happily.

“Are you serious?”

“Always. He’s freaking out in the middle of grocery,” she says with a laugh.

“Okay, turning this off now.”

“No! I want to see how long he can handle it first, for future reference.”

“Yeah, well, I bet against him being a vampire so this doesn’t benefit me at all.”

Garrett lowers the phone and turns it off. Dina watches Jonah drops his hands from his ears with a small gasp of relief. She plops back into her chair with a disgruntled sigh.

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“Hey, Sandra? Um, so, we got a complaint,” Glenn says, trying to get Sandra’s attention, “Someone said that a bunch of bats flew out of the hole in the ceiling and started trying to rip their hair out? Anyway, uh, we can’t call animal control without corporate approval, so I need someone to handle that...”

Glenn waits for a moment, and then clears his throat. Sandra is still focused on something else. He clears it again, more insistently. Still nothing.

“SANDRA!”

The shrill shout make Sandra jump. Glenn smiles pleasantly when she turns around. “I need your help with something- ... wait a minute...”

Sandra is holding a spray bottle, garlic powder, and real garlic. “Um, I’m... restocking,” she clearly fibs. Glenn raises an eyebrow.

Sandra deflates. “We’re playing a game,” she admits. “To see if Jonah’s a vampire or not. Since garlic might kill him Dina and Marcus are making me wear garlic perfume, which is just garlic in water, to see if it makes his nose bleed or anything.”

“What?”

“I know we shouldn’t be playing a game at work-”

“Who cares?! Jonah might be a vampire?”

“Um... yes?”

Glenn shouts fearfully. “But-but vampires are damned! Jonah’s soul might be damned?!”

“... Yes?”

Glenn quickly runs away. Sandra waits, shrugs, and goes back to spraying garlic-y water on her neck.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jerusha? We’re gonna start up a new savings account! ... Well, Jonah might be a vampire, so I think we’ll need to pay a heavy fee to get him into Heaven! ... Of course we have to do it! He probably can’t even think of Heaven now! OH! I prayed for him this morning, what if that hurt him?! Oh, god... I need to call Pastor Craig about this! Oh- hmm? Oh, yeah, I can bring home Italian, what do you want?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah leans away from Sandra. “Yeah, uh, it’s-it’s certainly... pungent.”

“A good signature scent?” Sandra asks meekly.

“It... leaves a strong impression,” Jonah assures. And a strong headache...

“You don’t think it’s too strong?”

“Well, um... now you mention it, it... might, be a little... much. Uh... garlic-ish. Kind of.”

“Oh. Do you not like garlic?”

“I love it! I love garlic, just... not as a perfume.”

“You’re not allergic?”

“I just said I love it, so... no.”

“Okay. Um, thanks.”

Sandra walks away, leaving Jonah thoroughly confused.

“What was that about?” Amy asks, walking up.

“I think Sandra got garlic on herself and is trying to convince everyone it was on purpose,” Jonah says, slightly distracted sounding. He looks at Amy. “That or she genuinely wants to smell like garlic all the time.”

“Huh. ... I bet it was Carol.”

“Oh, that’s a good guess!” Jonah exclaims with a smile. “Why didn’t I think of that one?”

“Mmm, you’re off your game today. Anyway, I asked Glenn and we think insurance will cover a basic checkup if you think you need one.”

"Good, good, because I had another thing happen.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I started hearing this like um, this-this ringing sound, kind of? But I don’t think anyone else heard it. ... Everyone sort of looked at me like I was that guy from last Halloween...”

“Oh, yikes.”

“... Anyway, I’ll call at the end of the day.”

“You’re sure you don’t need to go home?”

“Well I’d like to but our insurance is so bad our boss thought I might die, so.”

“Right.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, Garrett-”

“Whoa, where the hell did you come from?!”

“The cafe. Here.” Dina tosses a pack of toothpicks to Garrett. “Hold one of these up around Jonah’s heart and see if he panics.”

Garrett looks at her skeptically.

“It’s the closest thing we have to a wooden stake! I mean, I could carve one, but we’d lose a chair or two.”

“Yeah, Dina,” Garrett pushes the toothpicks back over to her. “I’m not doing that.”

“Why? Scared you’ll kill him by accident? You can’t trip, it’ll be fine.”

“No, because this is stupid. And because if he is a vampire, I don’t want him to think I tried to murder him!”

Dina considers this. “... Alright, fair game. I’ll find someone else to do this.”

“Wait, really? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Any idiot could hold a toothpick to someone else’s heart.”

Dina walks away, huffing, as Garrett is left with an odd feeling of dejection.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah pauses as he walks past patio. He doubles back, and spots Marcus using one of the grills.

Marcus looks up and grins. “Hey! Feeling peckish?”

“Um, are you allowed to be- isn’t that kind of dangerous, actually?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I uh, get special treatment after cutting off my thumb,” Marcus brags.

“Oh... kay. Um...” Jonah looks at the steaks, mouth watering. “I guess... I could use a snack.”

“Great! How rare do you want it?”

“... Do you mean how well-done? Just- usually people don’t start with the assumption of rare...”

“Well, a lot of my friends like their steaks bloody.” Marcus laughs, and then looks at Jonah very seriously.

“Oh, um, that-that’s... cool.” Jonah looks at the steaks sitting on the plate, in a pool of red, metallic-smelling, warmed blood...

He wipes his mouth. “Um, medium rare,” he says quickly. “And I’m just- I’m going to head over to the um, I think I saw a spill! In isle, uh... yeah.”

Jonah quickly walks away, and Marcus pulls out his phone to text Cheyenne. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Glenn, I was thinking and I think we should send Jonah to- whoa.” Amy stops in her tracks, standing in Glenn’s doorway completely still as her boss tries to quickly hide the fact that he’d been crying.

“Um, go on, Amy.”

“Glenn, are you okay?” Amy closes the door and sits down.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Glenn waves off. “Just worried about Jonah, you know?”

Amy sighs. “Yeah, I am too. He said he heard a ringing in his ears, so I think maybe we should send him to the doctor and just use the jar method-”

“NO!”

Amy startles at Glenn’s shout. “Why?”

“Because he’s a vampire now, and-and who knows what the scientists will do to him!”

Amy closes her eyes and shakes her head, trying to process that. “I’m sorry, he- what? Why do you think that?”

“Everyone does!” Glenn swings his arm out for emphasis. 

“... So... there’s no evidence, just people spreading rumors?”

“He had the two holes in his neck!”

“Okay, but, vampires aren’t real. You know that, right?”

Glenn shakes his head. “The Devil can do terrible things to good people! And-and one of those things, is turning best friends into vampires!”

Brushing past the fact that Glenn believes Jonah to be one of his best friends, Amy stands up. “Okay, Glenn, how about we go out there and look at Jonah.”

“... I’m scared to.”

“Just come on.”

Amy drags Glenn out of the office and runs into Justine. “Hey, Justine, where’s Jonah?”

“Oh, I think he’s at the grills-”

“Kay, thanks!”

She takes Glenn to Jonah despite Glenn’s protests. “See? Jonah is perfectly norm-”

She stops, and Glenn shrieks.

“Not what it looks like!” Marcus assures, fumbling with a napkin to wipe the blood off of Jonah’s chin.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*minutes earlier*

“Why do I need to be blindfolded for this?” Jonah asks nervously, fidgeting with his hands in his lap as Marcus covers his eyes.

“I want you to guess which one is cooked right without seeing it.”

“Wh-why, though?”

“Because... it’s a game!”

It’s to see how sensitive Jonah is to blood.

Marcus cuts a slice of steak, and holds it up. Jonah hesitantly opens his mouth, and Marcus shoves the steak piece in. Jonah coughs. “Very aggressive.”

Marcus shrugs, and waits.

“... Medium well?”

“Yes! Noice! My friend knows his steaks. Okay, here’s another one.”

Jonah chokes a little. “You really don’t have to shove it, in, um, you almost stabbed me.”

“Just tell me the steak...”

Jonah chews. “... Medium rare?”

“You are on fire! Okay, one more.”

Marcus shoves the fork into Jonah’s mouth. Jonah hisses in pain, biting down on the very rare piece of steak. Blood dribbles down his chin, both from the meat and his own mouth.

“Oh, shit, I am so sorry! Let me help, um-” Marcus grabs a napkin, and starts trying to unfold it.

Amy and Glenn round the corner at that exact moment. Marcus looks at them with slight fear. “Not what it looks like!”

Jonah coughs, spitting out the steak onto his lap. “This game went horribly wrong!” He takes off the blindfold and grabs a napkin himself, pressing it to the roof of his mouth.

Glenn looks like he’s about to faint. Amy holds her hands up. “What the hell happened?!”

“I was seeing if Jonah could tell different steaks apart and I kind of, uh, stabbed his mouth.”

Jonah looks at Marcus with an incredulous glare (that almost seems to have concern mixed in, but all of Jonah’s expressions look like that).

“Okay, Marcus, go back to the warehouse! Jonah, let me see- dammit, okay, lets go find some kind of antibiotic mouth spray or something-” 

She leads Jonah away as Glenn and Marcus are left behind.

Glenn looks around for a moment, swinging his arms. “So, um... how did he do?”

Marcus smiles. “Awesome,” he chuckles. “That guy is totally a vampire, I’d bet my windshield.”

“Oh.” Glenn’s voice is weak. “I-I think I need to sit down.”

Marcus holds up a plate. “Want a steak?”

“... Sure.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amy takes the plastic off the spray and holds it up. “Okay, take away the napkin.”

Jonah takes it out of his mouth, and Amy shines a light in so she can aim the spray. “Where did he get you? I can’t see any holes.”

Jonah points. Amy squints. “No, there’s nothing. Not even any bleeding.”

They both look at the very bloody napkin.

Amy’s brows furrow. “... Sure healed fast.”

“I-I guess it felt worse than it was.” Jonah runs his tongue over the roof of his mouth. “You’re sure there’s nothing?”

She checks again, and her eyes drift to his teeth. ... Are those two actually sharper, or is she just imagining it?

“... Yeah. Nothing.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonah heads back out onto the floor, stomach rumbling. He got two bites of steak, which just made him more hungry really.

He passes by the grills. Glenn and Marcus are gone, but a steak remains. The rare one.

He stares at it for a moment, and then gives in. He walks over, picks up the plate-

And the next thing he knows he’s holding the steak in his hands, and it’s bone-dry. He blinks, and looks up and around as though he thinks someone else could have come in and dried out the steak.

He has a metallic taste in his mouth, and he does feel marginally less hungry. Still at a stomach-growling level, but it had been starting to hurt.

He looks down at the now inedible steak. He sets it back down and walks away, trying to figure out what the hell happened and why he had blacked out again.

He passes by Sandra, who’s texting something to someone.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Another point to Vampire.” Cheyenne smugly marks it down. “Told you.”

“Alright, alright, I shouldn’t have doubted you,” Mateo admits. “So what do we do? I mean, we can’t keep working with him now, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if he tries to bite us?”

“Ooooh. ... I guess I hadn’t thought of that. ... He’s probably going to be a nice vampire, though.”

“Sure, for now. But what if someone like, eats his lunch?”

“Wouldn’t his lunch be people now?”

“Okay, so then, what if someone becomes his lunch? ... Should we carry garlic on us?”

“Ew.”

“Super ew, but I think I’d rather stink than be dead. Which is saying a lot, when I run out of cologne I use Febreeze.”

“Which kind?”

“The sea breeze one.”

Cheyenne nods approvingly. “Well, maybe we can get some holy water? I bet Glenn could get us some.”

“Oh, I think there’s some at my house, actually. Tita uses it when we get ant infestations.”

They both smile at their foolproof plan, and keep working.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Amy watches Jonah from a distance.

He can’t be. It’s just not possible. Vampires aren’t real, they’re just in books she swipes from Emma (and reads herself) sometimes. And besides, Jonah doesn’t look like one!

Well, he kind of does, but he looked like that before this morning. Although he does look a little paler than usual...

No, no, it’s winter, of course he looks paler than usual, everyone looks paler than usual because there’s no sun.

... It was weird how his mouth was completely fine... and he has been acting weird today...

...

She plasters on a smile and walks over. “Hey, Jonah.” She wraps him up in a big hug.

“Oh! Um, hi, Amy.” He hugs back, and Amy shivers a little.

He is freezing.

She pulls away. “Just restocking the freezer?”

“Uh, no, why?”

“Oh. You just, feel really cold.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a chill all day.” He rubs his arms. “Not even coffee helped. But I don’t think I have hypothermia, so I’m not sure what’s going on...”

Now Amy feels a chill. “Well, um, how about we go sit by that heater display, then?”

“Yes, thank you, I need that.” 

As they walk, Amy tries to get a good look at his teeth. He rambles on the whole way over, but she can’t get a good, clear view. 

They sit down, and Jonah sighs. “Oh, that’s so much better. Feel less like a walking corpse now.” He laughs at himself.

Amy laughs too, forcing it out as she eyes his smile.

Those two teeth are definitely longer.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun sets over the Cloud 9, and Jonah sighs in relief. Finally, almost time to go home. He’s going to sleep right awa-

He pauses his mopping (someone chugged three giant sodas and did not have the stomach for it). 

Where did that sudden burst of energy come from? 

“Must be the relief,” he mutters. He finishes mopping up, and is immediately approached by a customer.

“Excuse me, but there’s a section back there with broken lights. Can you help me find my way around?”

Jonah sighs, hands on his hips, but nods. “Sure! Sure, no problem.” 

He hadn’t even noticed the broken lights earlier, he could have sworn he could see perfectly. He follows the customer over to the dim, isolated area.

And blacks out.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, Cheyenne?” Amy walks up to the cosmetics booth. “I heard you guys did a betting pool about Jonah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Cheyenne chuckles. “It was super fun, everyone was sending me stuff all day and some of the tests were super silly-”

“How about we shut it down?”

“... But, it’s almost the end of the day...”

“Yeah, I know, I know, just, it seems in poor taste.”

“How?”

“Kind of feels like it’s making light of what happened to Jonah, right? And I mean, I don’t know how I feel about gambling about someone who has a gambling problem, you know?”

Cheyenne considers, and nods. “Well, we won’t keep it up, it was just for today. We all know the answer anyway, he’s totally a vampire.”

“No! No, uh, he isn’t, because vampires don’t exist. So he can’t be.”

“Um, he totally is.”

“But he is not, because that’s fantasy.”

“No, really! Look at all this evidence everyone sent me.” Cheyenne pulls out her phone and shows the group chat to Amy. “We would have counted you in but... well, this.” She gestures to Amy, and the current conversation as a whole.

A crowd has begun to gather. Amy turns and looks at everyone. “Okay, guys, it was a fun day but this, vampire betting pool thing is over!”

There’s disgruntled chattering. “So there’s no payout?” someone shouts.

“Nope, everyone should take their own money back and let’s leave this to rest!”

“Like Jonah?” someone else jokes. The group chuckles.

“Not like Jonah, because Jonah is alive and well!”

“Well, vampires aren’t technically alive-”

“Sandra!” Amy snaps. “He is not a vampire!”

Dina scoffs. “Come on, even I think it’s obvious, and I’m not prone to thinking stuff like that. Unlike Glenn.”

“Where is Glenn, actually, he should be putting a stop to this-”

“He went home early. Something about needing to start a fundraiser to buy Jonah a new soul. His pastor is a con artist, but I respect his convincing marketing.”

“... Okay, then, Dina you put a stop to this.”

“Why?”

“Because Jonah! Is not! A vampire! There are no such things, and-and he just can’t be one, okay? Because he is a-a nervous, stuttery, sweet little man and it’s just not possible!”

Sandra glances over into the isles, and stiffens. “Uh, guys?”

“It could all be a ruse,” Dina says with a shrug. “He’s a creature of the night now. Can’t trust him anymore.”

“No, he is not!”

“Why are you so insistent about this?” Mateo asks. 

“Why are you wearing a cross choker like you’re a teen going through a phase?” Amy fires back.

“This is to protect my bodily fluids from your ‘sweet little man’.” Mateo makes a sassy face at her.

“Guys,” Sandra says again, a little louder.

“He’s not my sweet little, I just meant he is in general a good guy!”

Garrett, highly amused, joins in the teasing. “Good looking?” 

“No! I mean, yes, kind of, he’s not bad I-I guess- how did this turn into a thing about me? Stop saying Jonah is a vampire when he is not!”

“Guys!” Sandra’s shout finally draws everyone’s attention. “Look.”

A blank-eyed customer shuffles out of the isles, a worried Jonah following. “Ma’am, please, are you okay? Do you need me to walk you to your car? What happened?”

She doesn’t reply, which seems to make Jonah more frantic. As she walks past, everyone gets a clear view of her neck. 

Two little holes, slightly bleeding.

And Jonah seems to have more color in his face.

“Ma’am, please, what happened in the isle? Did you trip? Did I trip and fall into you? Whatever happened I am very sorry-”

They both disappear out the doors. Cheyenne lowers her phone. “I’m texting that to Glenn.”

Everyone is quiet for a moment, the only sounds those of Cheyenne typing on her phone.

Finally, Dina pipes up. “I think Amy lost the pool.”

[smells-like-mettaton]

Rating: G

Summary:  Papyrus's New Year's resolutions include: trying new fashion choices, helping his brother talk about his feelings, keeping his friends from murdering each other over Monopoly, and admitting his crush on Mettaton.

Word Count:  4333

XXX

“Hmmm… I feel a little… nervous.”  Papyrus tugged at the end of his shirt.  His very long, very tight shirt.  That aspect felt more embarrassing than the fact that Mettaton’s face was cross-stitched into it.  “This outfit is very different from my battle body.”

Sans blinked.  His grin stayed tight, but still not as tight as this strange shirt.  The red-and-pink fabric clung to the invisible magic that filled out his form.  His usual crop tops covered just his ribcage, but this full-length shirt… it showed his abs.  A full six pack of them.  It was weird.  

Of course, he knew that if he had physical muscles, he would surely have such a buff physique.  A skeleton’s clothed form was based on their perception of their true self, after all.  Sans was lazy and round.  Papyrus trained daily, and his magic chiseled his form to show it.

He just hoped he didn’t look too chiseled.  He didn’t want to intimidate anyone with his handsome figure.  Though… perhaps a certain robot wouldn’t mind...

“You don’t have to wear it, bro.  I’m sure the bucket of bolts will understand.”

No.  No, the ‘bucket of bolts,” the fabulous Mettaton himself, would not understand.  He would wonder why Papyrus didn’t wear his Christmas gift to the New Year’s Eve party.  And then Mettaton would never believe how much Papyrus cared for him…

“No!  Change can be refreshing.  New year, new fashion!  Yeah!!!”

“...Alright.”  Sans shrugged.  

He wouldn’t understand.  He was wearing the same dingey hoodie he’d worn every day in the underground.  At least it smelled a little better now that Toriel was around to occasionally wrangle it off of him and throw it in the wash.  (Sans always complained, but Papyrus had caught him sniffing it and smiling dreamily each time.)

“You could stand to freshen up too, you know!  Don’t you want to impress Miss Toriel?  HMM??”

He elbowed his brother in the ribs (nyeh heh) but it wasn’t as effective as usual.  This shirt had long sleeves, which left Papyrus’s arms looking more filled-out than in his battle body.  And thus, his elbow had less boney-nudging power.

“Hey.  Don’t try to jack-et up my style. ‘Sides, if Tori didn’t like the hoodie, it hood have ended up in the garbage ages ago.”

“Oh my gosh!!! Both of you belong in the garbage then!”

“Only if you’re there too, bro.”  Sans winked.  “Come on, I think we’re late enough to make an entrance.  I know a—”

“Geez, Sans, I know you can teleport.  You don’t have to be dramatic about it!”

Sans’s browbones scrunched.  “You really are nervous, huh?  It’s gonna be fine, bro.  You’re gonna knock that robot’s socks off.  Y’know, if he had socks.”

Sweat beaded on Papyrus’s forehead.  He wasn’t surprised that Sans had guessed the source of his anxiety, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it.

“N-no I’m not nervous!  It’s just… hot in here!  Let’s take that shortcut and hope that Miss Toriel has been banned from the celebratory cider!”

“Yeah, it’d be a shame to have to lock her in her own garage this time…”

Sans casually slipped his arm through Papyrus’s and led them towards the bathroom.  Of course, when Papyrus blinked at the entryway, they were suddenly walking through the tall doorframe into Toriel’s living room.

It wasn’t covered in Mew Mew- or Mettaton-bits.  That was a good sign—Papyrus would’ve hated to miss a live chainsaw fight again.  At the Gyftmas party, he’d been too busy wrangling Toriel to watch.

Sound always took a second to catch up with Sans’s shortcuts, so Papyrus felt Undyne’s smack on his back before he heard her.

“ACK!”  He jumped before attempting to cover it with a cough.  Undyne laughed.

“Dude, I know you don’t have to breathe!  You can’t fool me!”

“It was a courtesy scream! Of greeting!  Because I know how much you love to be intimidating!!”

“Heck yeah I do!  Thanks, Papyrus!”  She slugged him again for good measure, this time on the shoulder.  It felt weird, with his bones covered in layers of protective magic and fabric.  “Lookin’ good, by the way!  I haven’t seen you in a full shirt in… geez, has it been a year?  I almost didn’t recognize you!”

He tugged at his collar, though it wouldn’t keep him from sweating.  Toriel kept her house cool, at least.  Probably because she was covered in fur.

“I know, I know.  It still feels unseemly for a royal mascot to be seen out of uniform…”

“Nah, it’s all good!  I’m sure all the monsters with two good eyes won’t have a problem recognizing the Great Papyrus.”

He felt his cheeks warm.  “Nyeh heh... heh… so it doesn’t look weird?  Sans said it was fine, but you know Sans… he only wears the same smelly outfit, day in and day out!  I can’t trust his fashion sense.”

“Then trust me.  I practically invented fashion!  Like, if you replaced Mettaton’s face with… a spear!  Or an anime princess with a sword!  IT WOULD INSPIRE FEAR INTO THE HEARTS OF YOUR ENEMIES!”

Papyrus hunched his shoulders and scratched the back of his neck.  At least the shirt didn’t have a high collar, so he could still feel the tips of his vertebrae.  

“I’m not sure fear is the emotion I am going for.  Perhaps… grandeur?  Or even… admiration??”  His skull heated a bit more.  Oh, he hoped his cheekbones weren’t stained pink.  He hadn’t intended to keep his feelings from his best friend… but Undyne and Mettaton butted heads so often.  He just wanted everyone to be friends!  

Especially his best friend and the robot he maybe-sort-of had a crush on!

Undyne took a step back, squinting at him with her one good eye.  Darn it, she was so perceptive!

“B-but I didn’t say it was romantic admiration!”  Papyrus clarified.  “It is—”

“OH MY GOSH!!”  Undyne interrupted, her voice echoing over the human program Toriel had on TV.  “YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON—?”

“SHHHH!”  He slapped her hands over her mouth.  She batted at them with her face-fins, her muffled shouting seeping through his gloves.

Eventually she quieted.  Probably because the whole room was staring at them.  Sans and Toriel on the couch, Frisk squished between them.  Flowey on the windowsill, leaves crossed and faking disinterest.  Alphys with wide eyes, as if predicting what Undyne was about to shout.  And Napstablook, Mew Mew, and…

Mettaton.

Papyrus didn’t need to gulp.  He did anyway.

“DARLING!”  Mettaton spread his arms wide as he strutted towards Papyrus.  His heeled boots somehow made a loud CLICK-CLICK-CLICK, even though the living room’s floor was carpeted. “Oh, you look wonderful!  Positively ravishing!”

He stopped at arms’ length, then scanned Papyrus up and down.  It felt like his robot vision could see right through him.  Not that there was much to see—just normal bones.  It was still rattling regardless.

“Th-thank you!  The Great Papyrus strives to always be ready to be ravished!”

Sans spit out his drink.  Thankfully it was just water, and not anything more intoxicating.  With Frisk present, adult drinks would be off-limits.

But it still left a puddle on the floor, and wet bubbles gurgling out of Sans’s eyesockets.

“Oh dear.” Toriel bit back a giggle. “Frisk, do you mind getting your dunkle a towel?”

Frisk nodded eagerly, shooting Papyrus a wink before scampering off to the kitchen.  Double dang it.  Even Frisk could see right through him!  Of course, Frisk was a master of flirtation, even if none of it had wooed Papyrus in the end.  Perhaps the child could help him… if he survived this current encounter. 

He straightened his spine.  He was the Great Papyrus, and he would not be intimidated by a soul-fluttering crush.

“I um—I mean—”

Undyne pushed in front of him before he could come up with a super-effective conversation saver.

“Dude, you got Papyrus a shirt with your face on it?  Why didn’t you pick out something cool?”

“Please.” Mettaton snorted, even though he also didn’t need to breathe.  (They had so much in common!!) “You’d have me embroider your human cartoons instead, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh, YEAH!”  Undyne was one of the few monsters who could almost match Mettaton in height, and she made use of that fact.  Their noses—er, Mettaton’s nose and where Undyne’s nose would be—were nearly touching.  Papyrus wished that meant they were about to hug and make up, but Undyne always kept her friends close and her enemies closer.  She’d be more likely to strangle the robot than hug him.

Alphys hovered near her girlfriend, but her stammering was too quiet to break up the intense glare-off.  That was too bad; Alphys was the one person who was beloved by both Undyne and Mettaton.

“You care about Papyrus, right?  Don’t you want him to look as cool as possible?” Undyne continued.

“Of course I do.”  Mettaton nudged her back with one gloved finger.  “Papyrus is the very epitome of cool. And thus, the only accessory that could possibly accentuate his natural style is my face.”

Papyrus blinked.  Maybe Alphys wasn’t the only person Undyne and Mettaton both respected.

“WOWIE!! You… think I’m that cool?”

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised, darling.  I don’t cross-stitch for just anyone.”  Mettaton winked—or maybe it was just a blink; his bangs covered the other half of his face—and then turned on his heel.  “You may join Mew Mew, Blooky, and I in the kitchen if you’d like. Mew is absolutely desperate to be crushed at Monopoly.”

“HEY!  YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S GONNA GET CRUSHED, METTA-LOSER!”

Mettaton rolled his eyes.  “Seriously.  What is the point of an insult if it doesn’t include at least one clever pun?  No class whatsoever.”

“Exactly!”  Papyrus agreed.  

“Hey, Me and Al want in on some metal butt crushing!”  Undyne bent down and seized her girlfriend in a headlock, making Alphys’s face burn red.  Papyrus wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or lack of oxygen, since that was her natural state around Undyne anyway.

“W-well, a-as long as all c-crushing is metaphorical…”

“Darling, the only Metta-phorical thing at this party is me.”

“UGH!!  Papyrus, how can you hate Sans’s puns and put up with this?” Undyne threw her arms in the air, which had the side effect of releasing Alphys.  “Come on, babe, I’m gonna need you to come up with our battle strategy!”

“Umm, you do know that Monopoly isn’t a fighting game, right…?”

Mettaton, Undyne, and Alphys all trailed into the kitchen with various levels of excitement.  Papyrus was about to follow them when he caught Sans staring again.  

Frisk was wiping his face with a snail-embroidered dish towel.  His brother didn’t even blink, and his eyelights had gone oddly dim.

“Brother?  Are you alright?”  Papyrus leaned over the armrest and said in as quiet a voice as he could manage.  “Did you want to play Monopoly too?  You can be on my team!”

“Nah, it’s all good. I think Tori, Frisk, and I are gonna play Uno.  It’s a lot easier for a lazybones like me.”  He winked, but Papyrus wasn’t fooled.

“Sans.  You made a New Year’s resolution to be more honest about your feelings.  As is the time-honored tradition, you must keep your promise or risk a year’s worth of bad luck!”

Toriel and Frisk shared a glance.  Had they seriously not heard of this tradition?  Frisk had an excuse, being both a human and a child, but Toriel was hundreds of years old!  

“Uh. Bro. I didn’t make any kinda resolution like that.”

“I know!  You were too busy boondoggling, so I made it for you!”  Papyrus grinned.  “It’s already written on the refrigerator at home, so don’t even try to get out of it.”

Sans let out a long breath through his nasal cavity.  His smile looked strained.

“Alright.  You’re always better at comin’ up with that kinda stuff than me, anyway.  But it’s no big deal this time.  Really.  I’ll tell ya after your Monopoly game.”

Papyrus’s browbone furrowed.  “Okay… but Toriel and Frisk are my witnesses!  You can’t wriggle out of it this time!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, bro.”

After one last knowing look, Papyrus left him in the living room.  Perhaps he just wanted some alone time with Toriel, but that look… it had definitely been focused on Papyrus.  He wasn’t so smitten by Mettaton’s charms to ignore that.

But Papyrus trusted his brother.  And he trusted his own ability to pin Sans down by his gross hoodie until he got answers, if necessary.

“I hope you guys saved me the car!” Papyrus called as he plopped down at the kitchen table.  

The empty seat just happened to be next to Mettaton.  Had Undyne been wingmanning… (wingwomaning… finwomaning…?) for him already?  Maybe he should’ve revealed his crush earlier.  Her letter had managed to woo Alphys, after all.

“Oh no…” Napstablook said quietly. “We, umm, didn’t bring that Monopoly…”

“We brought Monster Monopoly!” Mew Mew brushed her hair out of her face with a paw.  “It’s way cooler, mew~”

“It’s, umm, a-actually… Pocket Monster Monopoly, if we’re being specific,” Alphys said from her spot in Undyne’s lap.  

“POKEMON!” Undyne grinned.  “You remember watching Pokemon with me and Al, right, Papyrus?  There was the epic fight between the Charizards, and then there was the lab that got Alphys all spooked, and then Ash got turned into a rock and you started crying—”

“I remember!”  Papyrus cut her off.  Not because he was embarrassed—it had been perfectly reasonable to cry when the human was resurrected by the love of the strange monsters.  But Alphys might not want to think about the anime lab that had been reminiscent of her old home.

“Great!  Then pick your mon!”  Undyne reached around Alphys to push the two remaining pieces towards him.  

One was an orange lizard Pokemon with flames on its tail.  Was that Charizard? Papyrus had expected Undyne to pick that one, but she’d chosen a blue turtle-looking Pokemon with canons coming from its back.  Alphys had presumably let her pick, or else they would’ve had the round pink Pokemon.  Mettaton had chosen that one, and was cooing it it as he balanced it on his fingertip.

The other available option was Pikachu.  Everyone liked Pikachu.  Papyrus set that figure on the starting square.

“Excellent choice, darling.  Now it’s time for the real show!”

The real show turned out to be a three-hour long battle royale.  Despite Alphys’s insistence that Monopoly wasn’t a fighting game, the board game was interrupted by three and a half chainsaw battles.  Two of those were stopped by Toriel entering with slices of pie and fistfuls of fire magic, respectively.  The other two were settled by Sans distracting Mettaton with bad puns, and flashing his blue eye socket.  Drama queen.  It worked though, startling Mettaton and Mew Mew into calling a draw.

“Not that it matters, since Al and I are winning anyway!”  Undyne grinned, stacking her paper cash into a tall tower.  “I’d like to see your MTT-brand resort come back from that!”

It was true.  If anything, Mettaton and Mew Mew were battling for last place.  Each of them only held a few mortgaged properties to their name, while Team Shellshock (as Undyne named her and Alphys’s duo) had racked up monopolies on the two highest-priced sides of the board.  Napstablook had owned the two purple spaces at the beginning of the board, until all the fighting drove them to vanish into the ground.  They later reappeared the living room, chatting quietly with Toriel, Frisk, and Sans, and occasionally calling out “Oooo-no.”  Papyrus wondered how he was playing the card game with no arms.

Papyrus himself was rather satisfied with owning the orange properties before Free Parking.  His stacks of houses caught the other players as they escaped from jail. Plus, Tangela and Victreebel were rather cute.

“Do you hear her, Papyrus?” Mettaton raised the back of his hand to his forehead and leaned dramatically into Papyrus’s space.  “Insulting my brand when she hasn’t even had the nerve to duel me!  Of course, I would have to show her mercy, on account of her being Alphys’s one true love.”

“You? Show ME mercy??” Undyne stood abruptly, accidentally dumping Alphys onto the floor.  “Oh, uh. Sorry babe.”

“I’m used to it…” Alphys muttered.  “Maybe I should just stay down here…”

“No!  No more fighting!  The Great Papyrus will not allow this lighthearted board game to devolve into yet another brawl!” Besides, he really did not want to find out what Sans would do if the others caused any more damage to Toriel’s house.  The scorch marks on the tile would already take hours to buff out.

“Very well, darling.  I’ve showed off all of my moves for the night, anyway.  I wouldn’t want to let my performance go stale.”

“Oh, like it wasn’t stale to begin with,” Mew Mew said.  Mettaton glared at her before—to Papyrus’s surprise—the robot rested his head on Papyrus’s shoulder.

“Wake me up when Mew comes up with some more original material.”  His metallic eyelids slid closed.

“It’s Mewtwo to you, bolts for brains!”  Mew Mew pointed to her character, the purple Pokemon from the movie.  

She’d landed on Alphys and Undyne’s Nidoking space again, but neither of the girls seemed to notice.  Undyne because she was busy snapping a not-so-discreet photo of Mettaton on Papyrus’s shoulder, and Alphys because she was still under the table.

In response, Mettaton just started emitting tiny Zs.  Papyrus was careful not to move and possibly disturb him, even though his bones wanted to rattle with nervous energy.  No one had ever slept on his shoulder before, let alone a handsome robot.  Normally he was simply too bony to be comfortable.

Maybe this new shirt would have to become a permanent part of his wardrobe.

“Enough. ENOUGH. ENOUGH!!!  I refuse to play under these conditions any longer!!” Mew Mew shoved herself back from the table.  Her tail lashed back and forth, and the bells in her hair jingled angrily.

“Mewtwo—” Papyrus called, but she was already in the living room, opening the door to leave.  He sighed.  Why was it so difficult to be friends with everyone…?

“Oh!  Uh, h-hi, Asgore!”  Mew Mew’s voice was suddenly respectful.

Asgore?  Papyrus had thought he wasn’t invited, since the party was at Toriel’s house.  He tried to crane his neck to check on Miss Toriel, but couldn’t turn far enough with Mettaton’s weight on him.  Well, Sans and Frisk would surely be there with her.  Hopefully with enough moral support, the two Dreemurrs could get along.

If not, they probably couldn’t do much more damage than Mew Mew and Mettaton already had with their chainsaws.

“He made it!”  Undyne grinned toothily before throwing Alphys over her shoulder and jogging to join them in the living room.

Which left only Papyrus and Mettaton in the kitchen.  Alone.

Stars, he hoped Mettaton couldn’t tell how sweaty he was.

“Finally,” Mettaton murmured, wrapping his arm around Papyrus’s not-bicep. “As much as I adore the spotlight, every star needs a moment to regain their shine.”

Papyrus blinked.  Mettaton’s fingers tap-tap-tapped over his sleeve, a rhythm that was both comforting and baffling.  What was he doing?  Had he been faking sleep this whole time?

“I… are you alright, Mettaton?” He settled for asking.

“Oh my.  I am being awfully forward, aren’t I?”  He let go of Papyrus’s arm, but still left his head resting on his shoulder.  His dark hair obscured his eyes from Papyrus’s angle.  “This… isn’t something I’m used to, you know.”

Papyrus cleared his throat.  “I, the Great Papyrus, know many things!  But you will have to be more specific.”

Mettaton chuckled.  “Very well.  I am not used to cuddling with such a sweet, sincere, and devilishly handsome skeleton.”

His jaw dropped.  Literally.  It clinked off of Mettaton’s shoulder and landed in Papyrus’s lap.  He had to reattach it before he could ask the question that pounded in his soul.

“Are you… flirting with me?”  He didn’t have his dating handbook with him!  Or a plate of emergency spaghetti!! How was he supposed to secure Mettaton’s affections??

Though… Mettaton seemed affectionate enough already, without any of those things.  Could it be… that he just liked him?

“Finally!  I made a bet with Alphys on how long it would take you to notice.  The suspense was absolutely killing me, darling.  You do know how to create dramatic tension.”

“Mettaton.”  Papyrus scooted his chair back, leaving him space to grip Mettaton’s spiked shoulders.  “You… like me?  Romantically??”

Mettaton’s smoulder looked a little less confident than usual.  “Is that so surprising?  You’re the only one who shines as brightly as me.  Your energy… your passion… you give one hundred percent to everything you put your mind to.  That’s what makes a true star, darling.”

“Wowie…” Papyrus breathed.  His head felt like it was spinning.  Of course Mettaton, being an actor, would be good with words, but… these ones felt sincere. “Would you like to… maybe… go on a date??”

The robot blinked before shooting his signature dazzling smile.  “I thought you’d never ask, darling.”

“Are you two done flirting?”

Papyrus jumped at Frisk’s voice.  Their head had poked through the entrance of the kitchen.

“Of course not!  I, the Great Papyrus, have barely begun flirting!”  He puffed out his chest, and Mettaton laughed.

“Fabulous!  That’s the confidence I want to hear!  It’s no wonder you were able to help Alphys.”  Mettaton’s smile softened.  It was something Papyrus had never seen before, something that had certainly never been captured on film or broadcast on television.  He would like to save that smile forever, if he could.  “I must thank you for that, by the way.  I… haven’t always been the greatest friend to her.  But you were able to do for her what I should have.  She has positively sparkled since your self-confidence lessons.”

“I am glad to hear it!  Alphys is a wonderful friend, and she deserves to feel wonderful about herself!”  He beamed.

“Keep flirting if you want, but you’re gonna miss the ball drop,” Frisk called again, and then their messy brown hair disappeared back into the living room.

“It can’t be that spectacular,” Mettaton scoffed, though he hadn’t stopped smiling. “Now, if I were swinging in on the disco ball… now that would be a way to ring in the new year!”

“We’ll have to plan that for next year!  I can’t wait to build a giant disco ball.  It will be just like building a puzzle… but spherical!  Nyeh heh heh!!”

“I’ll be looking forward to it, darling.”

And then, before Papyrus could blink, Mettaton gave him a quick peck on the cheek.  Warmth pulsed through his bones, even though Mettaton’s metal lips were cold.

“Nyeh! Heh!!  Heh???” He melted back into his chair with a hysterical giggle.  He could see the appeal of Sans’s hoodie now.  It would be nice to have a hood to hide his blush in.

But Mettaton was giggling too.  The sound mixed with the cheers from the living room as the clock struck midnight.

“Happy new year, darling.”  Mettaton winked.

“Happy new year!”  Papyrus pulled him into a hug that probably would’ve crushed someone not made of metal.  But Mettaton was, so everything was fine.  “Have you regained your shine now?”

Mettaton squeezed him back.  “Oh yes.  I definitely have.”

XXX

“Some party, huh?” Sans yawned when they arrived home hours after midnight.  It was a miracle he’d stayed awake this long.  He’d even helped Toriel clean up, despite leaving Papyrus to clear the mess from his holiday party last week.  Sans definitely had it bad, but at least Toriel was a good influence on him.

“It certainly was!”  Papyrus beamed.  “I’m sorry I did not spend much of it with you.”

“‘S alright.  Frisk filled me in on everything.”  Sans winked.  “I gotta admit, I was worried at first, but I’m happy for ya.”

“Worried?”  Papyrus squinted.  “Wait… is that why you were acting weird earlier?  I thought it might be about Miss Toriel.”

He chuckled. “Not this time, bro.  You, uh… I don’t want you to think I don’t believe in ya, because I do.  If anyone could get a superstar boyfriend, it would be you.”

Papyrus’s face warmed.  He wasn’t sure that Mettaton was his boyfriend yet, but… he could be!  Eventually!! The thought was nearly enough to make him see stars.

“But, uh, I just didn’t want him to lead you on.”  He shrugged, hands in his pockets.  “I’m glad he’s head over stiletto heels for you too.”

“Awww!”  Papyrus squeezed his brother’s shoulders with one arm, the other grinding his knuckles against his skull.

“Hey, hey.”  Sans pretended to struggle, but he was laughing.  “Watch the skull.  These things bone’t grow on trees.”

That pun was absolutely horrible, but Papyrus elected to ignore it for now.

“Thank you for caring, Sans.  And thank you even more for not scaring him away.”

“Me? Scare anyone? You must be thinking of a different Sans. That would take way too much energy.”

“Oh, you can’t play innocent with me!  You were going to give Mew Mew and Mettaton a bad time if they broke Toriel’s dining table!”

Sans’s eye sockets widened, as if he’d already forgotten about breaking up the fourth chainsaw fight.

“Heh. Nah, all I had to do was spook ‘em a little.”

“Spooking and scaring are synonyms, brother!”

“But I didn’t scare him away.  In fact, I think I scared him towards ya.” He winked again.  “You’re welcome, bro.”

Papyrus just shook his head and let out a soft nyeh-heh-heh.  By the time he blinked, Sans had disappeared, probably shortcutting himself to his bedroom.  It was rather late, even for Papyrus.

He flopped in his bed, still in his long-sleeved MTT-brand shirt, and dreamt of the fond memories to be made in the new year.

[brokenkingdom-forgottenempire]

Safe With Me (McReigns)

One night Roman got jumped by a group of strangers.

Long ass fic ... 

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It was past midnight. Roman just got off his night shift as a barista. The café closed quite late that night, and they still had to do some extra cleaning inside the shop. The café would be closed for three days for the holidays so they did not mind spending extra time cleaning the floor and other utensils.. 

Roman sent a text to his boyfriend earlier to inform him. Drew tended to get worried whenever Roman arrived home late with no message. The café was owned by his friend, Seth, and Roman was more than happy to work there. Those two were best friends since high schools. Unlike Roman, Seth was married to Jon. Now, the three of them were more like family than friends. The café was busier earlier, people coming in and out to get their drinks, desserts and pastries. Seth handling the cashier, Roman and Becky were busy with the drinks, Sasha and Bianca baking and preparing the cakes and breads, Baron would served them. 

They all made a great team, and Seth would always tell his friends by the end of the day that this café would be nothing without them. Business had been great so they would have extra tips every night. Tonight was no different. The moment the gate was pulled down and locked, six of them were ready to go home, Roman observed as Sasha’s wife, Bayley, waited outside the shop, Becky’s girlfriend, Charlotte, was leaning against her car that she parked across the street, chatting with Bianca’s husband, Montez. Baron lived a block away from the café so he would walk home alone. The taller man was always so quiet around new people but he would rant to Roman and Becky about his boyfriend, Tyler once in a while. 

Roman smiled and bid Baron good night as the quiet man walked away and waved back at him. Jon was helping Seth loading some of the things he needed to bring back home at the backseat of their car. “Are you sure you don’t want to send you home, Ro? I mean, we’re heading to the same direction, we can just drop you off in front of the block?” Seth asked. He quietly hoped Roman would agree, but the Samoan just shook his head. 

“I’ll be fine, Seth. Go home and rest, I’ll text you or Jon once I reach home,” Roman chuckled as Seth pouted but the younger man gave in. Seth knew it was useless to argue with his best friend, especially after midnight and Roman probably wanted to take a walk alone to clear his mind after a long day at the café. 

Seth and Jon hugged the bigger man before leaving, “Don’t talk to strangers, Roman. Call us if you need anything. I have my baseball bat with me in the trunk so they better don’t mess with my favourite man,” Jon hugged him tighter and Roman just gladly hugged back just as tight as he whispered ‘thank you’ to the other man. The couple then drove off, and Roman walked home alone. He had his phone in hand. The wind was colder tonight it sent shiver down Roman’s spine. The Samoan tugged his jacket closer to his body to shield himself from the winter night breeze. 

After walking about 10 minutes, Roman was a block away from his and Drew’s shared house. He checked his phone to see if Drew sent him anything. It was almost 12:30am. Before, Roman could make a turn to his place, a voice stopped him.

“Hey, sexy. Need us to accompany you tonight?” A male voice. Roman turned to look over his shoulder and saw a group of five men standing not far away from him. Judging from the bottles they were holding, Roman guessed none of them were actually sober. The Samoan did not say anything in reply and continued to walk away. He had his hair up in a bun as usual but sure they had mistaken him as a woman...with a built physique. Roman was taller and way muscular than them. ‘Drunk ass can’t tell gender apart,’ Roman thought to himself. 

Roman tried to ignore the group but suddenly a hand grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him back. He yelped in surprise, and before he could defend himself felt a fist made a contact with his jaw. He could taste the metallic taste of blood on his tongue now. ‘Oh God,’. 

The Samoan struggled and clawed at the man’s arm who still had his hand in his locks. Roman was never a pro fighter but he could still fight back. He drew his fist back before punching the man above him right at the middle, causing him to double over and loosen the grip on Roman’s hair. Of course, it was far from over. Before Roman could run away two of the men from the group grabbed him. Punches and kicks landed on his body. Roman fell on the ground, him arms shielding his head from getting a kick on the face. His knees tucked close to his chest to reduce the impact of the hit. 

“Strip him,” another male’s voice ordered. Roman froze in his position. What.

Roman did not manage to protect himself before two men held him down, a pair of hands unbuckled in belt, and another pair forcefully tugged his jeans down. 

“No! Let me go!” Roman trashed around, trying to break free but the two drunk men had a strong grip on his wrists, a knee pressed him down hard by the chest, and hands wrapped around his neck, restricting his air. Roman coughed out blood but he still struggled. He was getting raped. Oh God, he was going to die. Drew would be so devastated. Oh God, Drew.. “D-don’t touch me!” Roman’s wheezed out when he felt cold, sticky hands grabbed his naked thighs. The hands on his neck tightened and he felt dizzy. Drew. He needed to go back home to Drew. Black spots began to appear, his eyesight blurred out by tears. He was choking. No air. Roman’s eyes rolled back into his head. 

Then he heard a ‘thud’. Something fell? Then another one. Then another. The hands on his neck were gone and air rushed back into his lungs. Roman breathed in greedily but he ended up coughing from the pain on his chest. His body was too weak to sit up. What happened? Roman tiredly opened his eyes only to see Drew standing next to him, swinging a hockey stick at another attacker’s head. Roman whimpered as he watched the stranger fell down on the ground not moving. 

“Roman! Jesus, baby, you’re bleeding! Don’t move, I’ll call an ambulance,” Drew’s voice was filled with fear. Roman looked up at his boyfriend, the Scottish man fished out his phone from his pocket, ready to dial. The Samoan reached up and grabbed Drew’s arm, tugging at it for attention. “What is it, babe? Can you see me? Can you breathe? Say something, love. Oh God, I should’ve waited for you outside-” Drew was rambling. He never rambled. Drew only did that when he was in a panic state. Roman persistently tugged the other man’s arm and Drew had to bend down closer. 

Drew did not get to ask before Roman pulled him down for a kiss. Drew held to hold himself back, he did not want to hurt his boyfriend further when he tasted blood on his own tongue. Drew was the first to pull back. Roman, with blood trickling down the corner of his mouth, smiled tiredly at him. “You came.” was all Roman could say after a while.

“Of course I came, you idiot!” Drew huffed out. His boyfriend was out of it. They probably hit him in the head, and now Roman was completely out of it. “Enough talking, you’re bleeding! We need to go to the hospital now. I’ll carry you,” Drew was ready to lift his 260 pounds boyfriend but Roman shook his head. 

“No. Don’t want hospital. I want you. I’m cold. My jeans-” 

“I pulled your jeans up earlier when you almost passed out. You’re cold because you’re lying on wet sidewalks. We’re going to the hospital,” Drew scooped him up easily but the sudden movement caused Roman to whimper in pain, his leg hurt. Did they break his leg too? His chest hurt. Despite all the pain he was feeling on his body, Roman would rather stay inside their bedroom, warm and safe, than to spend the night on hospital bed. 

“Baby, please, I don’t wanna go,” Roman slurred out his words. He was too tired. He hated the hospital. He just wanted to cuddle up with Drew, warm in their bed. He almost got raped He almost died out here. He just wanted Drew. 

The Scottish man sighed heavily before leaning in to kiss Roman on his forehead. “Ro, we need to get your head check. They hit you, your head is bleeding, they strangled you too, “Drew’s eyes unconsciously darted down to Roman’s neck. Red trace of the attacker’s fingers and some bruises were starting to get more visible on the Samoan’s bronze skin. The sight made Drew want to just crack the asshole’s skull with his hockey stick. “I just need to know that you’re okay, Please, let’s just go-” A loud police siren cut Drew’s pleading off. Roman shut his eyes tight when he heard it. It was too loud for him. The Samoan just curled further in Drew’s hold as if it would help to reduce his headache. When did Drew call them? 

“Are you two alright?” Sheamus’s voice. Their neighbour. Drew’s officemate too. “I called the cops when I saw Drew started swinging. The medic should be here soon too. Are you okay, Roman?” The Irish man asked. Roman nodded weakly and gave his best (bloody) smile. 

“I’m alright-”

“No, you’re NOT alright. Shut up,” Drew cut Roman off before he turned to look at their neighbour. “God, thank you so much, Shea. I didn’t know what would ‘ve happened if I didn’t come out to look for him. They almost-”

“But they didn’t. Roman is safe now, the cops are here. You saved him,” Sheamus gently patted the Scottish man’s shoulder, comforting his worried friend. Drew’s eyes were teary as he held Roman tighter in his hold. Using all the strength he had left in him, Roman wrapped his arms around his Scottish boyfriend, burying his head in Drew’s chest. He could hear Drew’s heart thumping against his ribcage, unsteady and fast. Roman just nosed Drew’s clothed chest, inhaling his boyfriend’s fresh-out-shower body gel helped to calm him down. He was safe. He was with Drew. Drew was here holding him. 

The ambulance arrived minutes after the cops did. Sheamus and a couple of officers had to restrain Drew from attacking the assholes who hurt Roman. The Scottish yelled something about they were lucky he did not crack their skulls open for touching his boyfriend. All five of the attackers were handcuffed and jammed at the back of the police van. 

Drew had reluctantly left Roman to the healthcare workers. They were patching the Samoan up, checking for any broken bones or internal damages. Fortunately, they found none. Roman had sprained his knee when he fell earlier. There was an open wound near his hairline. Black and blue patches began to appear around Roman’s neck but it was nothing serious. The wound did not need stitching. No concussion. The medic did advise him to go to the hospital for further checkups but Roman turned it down. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, he was fine. 

The Samoan was thankful when they told him the blood that he spat out earlier was from the cut inside his mouth when one of the assholes punched him in the face. There was still a throb of pain around his chest area whenever he inhaled too deep, he would end up coughing, but of the health worker ensured him his ribcage was alright. Roman lifted his head up when he saw an officer approaching him. He calmly answered the questions regarding the incident and if they did anything else to him. Roman just shook his head and turned to look at where his boyfriend was standing with Sheamus, also being interrogated by another police officer. 

Roman told everything from when he left the café, walked down the streets and met the group. How they attacked him, what he felt when he was losing consciousness. Roman did not realize when Drew got to him but he surprisingly did not flinch away when the Scottish man reached out and intertwined his fingers with Roman’s, holding him tight when Roman paused his story. The police officer was patience enough to let Roman had small breaks in between too. 

Once the Samoan had done telling his side of the story, the officer told the couple that they would handle everything else from now. The medic just told Roman to rest more and to report if there were any rising concerns especially his head and chest. The couple thanked the workers and before they could go, a familiar voice broke the peaceful silence of the night time.

“Where are those sonofabitch?! I’m going to f*cking murder them!” Jon yelled put, baseball bat in hand, ready to swing it at anyone at all. Some of the officers from earlier rushed to surround him. “Don’t touch me! Where’s Roman?!” Jon charged front to stand face-to-face against one of the officers who told his men to hold fire. 

“Jon! Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Please excuse my husband, he’s just worried-” Seth tried to pull Jon away from the cops. Some of them had guns in their hands, waiting for orders. Seth apologized over and over again before turning to calm his husband down. “Babe, please. Don’t do this. I don’t want anything to happen to you too,” Seth’s hand moved to stroke Jon’s face. The man with the baseball bat huffed and tucked his weapon away, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Seth! Jon!” The two men turned their heads when they heard Roman’s voice. Seth did not seem to bother when the officers tried to stop him as he ran to hug his best friend. 

“Jesus, Ro! What happened?! Drew called Jon earlier and told us you were attacked? Oh God, look at you! I should’ve forced you inside the car-”

“Seth, I’m fine. Breathe. Calm down. I didn’t mean to scare both of you. I’m okay now. Drew beat them up with the hockey stick.” Roman did not push Seth away and just tightened his hug when he felt Seth crying on his shoulder. The Samoan shushed the younger man, his head throbbed in pain but he ensured Seth that he was alright. 

“Next time, we’re not taking a ‘no’ from you, Ro. We’re driving you home or we’ll drag you home.” Jon’s voice made Roman turn his head. He did not realize Jon was standing so close to him at the side. Roman reached out and pulled Jon into a group hug. His strong arms wrapped around the couple as he tried to calm his still racing heart caused by the incident. 

“I’m sorry.” Was all Roman could say. 

Seth slapped his chest lightly at Roman’s apology. “Don’t apologize, you big goof! I’m just so glad you’re okay!” Seth’s eyes were still glassy, tears still leaked at the corners. Roman nodded in reply before pecking both of their foreheads. It had become his habit now. Even Drew knew about it. Speaking of Drew, the Scot just silently approached the trio, Sheamus was still with him, telling Drew how to make their area safer for all of them. 

Once the police officers and medics left, Drew and Roman invited them into their home for some drinks, and Roman just could not stop apologizing to his two best friends and their neighbour, Sheamus for causing all the trouble. Sheamus shook his head and patted Roman’s back, telling the Samoan that anyone would do the same if they saw their neighbour being attacked like that. Seth was still clinging onto Roman’s arm, and Jon had to convince Seth that they would visit Drew and Roman again tomorrow, and Roman needed to rest. That did it for Seth as the younger man slowly loosened his grip on Roman’s arm. 

Seth went to hug Roman and Drew once last time before they left. Jon did the same and thanked Drew for telling them because they both knew Roman would keep it to himself for the rest of his life with the excuse that he did not want to worry the couple. Sheamus bid everyone good night (or morning) and went back inside. 

Roman watched as Jon’s car drove away before he let Drew guide him back into their home. Drew’s arm wrapped protectively around his boyfriend’s waist. Once they were safely inside their bedroom, Drew wasted no time as he dragged Roman to lay down on top of him on their king sized bed. Roman did not protest and just wrapped his arms around Drew, holding onto him like an anchor. God, he almost got raped and died in the attack. 

“I love you,” Drew whispered.

“I love you too, baby. Thank you. I love you so much,” Roman moved up a little to kiss Drew full on the lips, deep and long. All the fear from earlier vanished, knowing that he was safe in here, with his favourite man. 

“I’m walking you home next time. Or Seth and Jon can drive you home. If I ever find out that you walk home alone again, I’m tying you to this bed. Screw your job at the café. Do you hear me?” Drew’s warm breath washed over Roman’s face. The older man just nodded silently. 

“Make love to me?” Roman asked suggestively before he moved to straddle Drew. The Scot just stared at his boyfriend as the Samoan spat on his hand to stretch his own hole. “Make me forget about them?” Drew did not need to be told twice. He stroked his dick as he watched Roman stretched himself open. Two fingers in, Roman began writhing in pleasure, causing him to moan shamelessly. The Samoan moved his hips up and down, riding his own fingers as he fixed his eyes at Drew’s blue ones, lust was evident in both of them. Roman did not want to remember the cold hands gliding up his bare thighs as his jeans were yanked down. He wanted to forget the smell of smoke and liquor as they held him down on the hard concrete ground. He wanted to forget fingers that wrapped around his neck, suffocating him to almost unconsciousness. 

Drew grabbed a small bottle of lube he kept on the nightstand next to their bed, and squirted some directly on his dick, making sure he would not hurt Roman. Drew gripped at the base of his dick as Roman moved to hover his hole right above the head, aligning them before the older man slowly eased down the fat length. 

“That’s it, baby. Take it all,” Drew’s deep voice was almost too much for Roman. The Samoan continued to slide down his boyfriend dick, whimpering as he felt the meat went deeper within him. Drew knew Roman did not like to take it slow, he would usually tell Drew to just shove it in, but he would let Roman lead tonight. He was not sure if Roman was in the right headspace for some rough sex either. 

“Ahh fuck, babe!” Roman cried out as he had finally seated on Drew’s dick, balls deep. The Samoan began grinding his hips, hole muscles massaging Drew’s hot meat. Drew’s head fell back as he groaned in pleasure. He really wanted to slam his dick hard inside of Roman but the band aid on the older man’s temple was set like a reminder for Drew to go gentle unless it was Roman who wanted it. 

“You feel alright, Ro?” The Scot asked, gently pulling Roman down to give him a kiss. Roman smiled and nodded his head as returned the kiss. “Promise you’ll tell if you feel lightheaded.” Drew planted a kiss on Roman’s forehead.

“I promise. Please fuck me hard, Daddy. I need it. Please.” The older man slowly lifted his hips and brought it down again on the thick length, grunting loudly as he felt the head went deeper and deeper every time he moved. 

“Get on your back, baby. We need to put less pressure on your knee.” Drew ordered, and Roman moved without arguing. He needed this. He needed Drew. The younger man grabbed both of Roman’s legs and spread them apart as he settled in between. Drew did not waste anymore time as he slid in almost smoothly, causing Roman to arch his back. Drew leaned in, capturing Roman’s lips with his, swallowing muffled moans as he began bucking his hips. 

Drew pulled his cock almost all the way out before he slammed it back into the Roman’s twitching hole. Their bedroom was filled with the sound of skin slapping skin. Roman’s long, ink black hair splayed on the white pillows. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the bedsheet tightly, almost ripping the fabric off. 

“Fuck, Drew! You’re so- ah - deep! So fucking deep. So good.” the man below panted, eyes rolling back when Drew hit his spot. 

“Fuck yes, baby. I want you to feel me. And only me.” Drew’s mouth trailed down on Roman’s back thigh, kissing the exposed skin and biting it. “I want your body to remember how my dick feels like. No one else can touch you. Only me. I’ll break them in half if they dare to even think about touching you. You’re mine, baby boy.” He moved to plant more kisses on Roman chest and down to his navel. The older man gasped when Drew teasingly bit the skin around his belly button. 

“Yes, Daddy, yes! Harder please!,” Roman’s voice cracked, feeling his prostate being assaulted over and over again by Drew’s hot rod. “Please, I’m about to come. Harder, baby.” His hands reached up to hold onto Drew’s biceps when Drew sped up and ram into his boyfriend harder. Roman’s breath hitched at the pleasure. His mouth fell open in a silent scream. 

“Come for me, Roman,” Drew’s voice was enough to bring Roman to the edge. He came without touching his dick. Ropes of cum spurted out every time Drew slammed in, and it landed on Roman’s stomach and chest. That was one intense orgasm for Roman, his body was sensitive all over. However, Drew had not come yet. He gently hooked Roman’s legs on his shoulders, big hands spreading the fat cheeks more before he began thrusting in again. “Ooh fuuucckkkk. Slow, babe, please. You’re getting too deep.” Roman’s whispered plead was it for Drew. The Scots continued to fuck harder and deeper, milking more pleads and cries of mercy from his older boyfriend.

After several thrusts, Drew came inside Roman, painting the walls inside white. Roman whimpered as he tried to milk Drew’s spent cock more with his oversensitive ass muscles. 

Before pulling out, Drew leaned in to kiss Roman once again, stopping few times to tell Roman ‘you’re safe here, baby’, and ‘I love you’. Roman just hid his face at the crook of Drew’s neck, he breathed in the Scottish man’s scent and he knew no one was going to hurt him. Drew was there with him. Drew would protect him. 

Drew dragged Roman to their bathroom, helping the older man to take a quick shower. Once they were done, Drew pulled Roman back down into their bed, tucking the older man’s head under his chin. Roman’s arms came to wrap around Drew’s waist while Drew’s big arms pulled Roman closer to his chest. They fell asleep like that... in each other’s arms. 

[illyrian-lover-flower]

My little mischievous partner ~ part 2

It felt all too slow. How Cassian opened his door, how he ran over to Rhys room on a mushy ground - where normaly cold,even marble should have met his naked feet.

With cold sweat cloaking his forehead and chest, he flung open the dooble door to Rhys and Feyres bedroom - locked it shut and jumped under the heavy blanket his brother slept under.

To Cassians luck was Feyre still out together with Mor and Amren. Just great, now they had to fight off Bryaxis on their own.

Cass would rather wait for Nesta than do this now. No hundred Illyrians could get him out there to this horrible creature.

Rhysand stired slowly awake by the constant shivering of his blanket. At first he had turned to his side and had hugged the round bundle, nuzzling into it as he mumbled “Oh, Feyre darling, you don’t need to purr for me.”

If the thing waiting outside the door wouldn’t have been Cassians worst nightmare he would have perhaps laughed, or thrown the blanket, over his together rolled form back. Making it obvious that he isn’t Feyre - but he was motionless. The shivers that wrecked through him already too much movement for him.

And so he wasn’t able to do anything as his brother pulled the heavy blanket aside. Rhys sleepy face was enlightened by the soft hue of moonlight as he looked down at him with a lust stretched smile and something dark welling in his violet eyes.

But all that was gone as he suddenly noticed the form of his shivering brother. A  yelp escaping him as he hurriedly skidded back to his side of the bed.

The soft midnight blue blanket between them a strained bundle, as both gripped onto one side of it.

“What in the mothers name are you doing here Cass!” The commander swallowed hard, not answering as he only asked “Can I please stay here? Feyre won’t be here before sunrise anyway. Like that you won’t be lonely.”

Rhys only glared at him before heaving a sigh, dragging a hand through his already sleep mussed hair “Fine. Just don’t tell Feyre of this - you know just as much as I do that she will not let us live this one down.”

Cassian only nodded - fine with whatever his brother wanted from him, if it prevented him from having to step out of the room.

For a long time there was only heared the rustling of the blanket, that shifted back and forth between the two of them until they settled. Both their naked backs turned at each other.

While Rhys closed his eyes again and his breathing started to even. Cassian was far away from finding sleep again. His heart still beating like a thunderstorm in his chest, his wings slowly closing in around him. Every movement outside, the sway of one of the trees, a bird or a bat fluttering past the window -every motion that caused the shadows to move made him shift. His nerves strained to the point of snapping at any moment.

The ticking of the grandfarther clock in the cornor had him wince with every tick. Still he managed to calm down, thinking that all the things he had seen in his room were probably just an imagination because of his drunken state.

Maybe it was just that.

Still with an unerving feeling in his guts, did he close his eyes. An exhaused sigh leaving his bloodless lips as he nuzzeled into the pillows.

The dancing shadows in the room, that had danced around his vision and had frightened him, were now a soothing black blanket behind his closed eyelids.

Sleep soon wanting to drag him down into its cloudy world - that was until he heared it again. That meatallic sound of a laugh.

“Hihihihihi!”

His body moved on its own accord as it sat up straight. The sweat that had once vanished returned as his gaze hurried around the room. His brother was snorring beside him and everything seemed normal, that means almost normal.

There was a dark shadow, just by the door.

A pitch black clawing fog that swirled around aimlessly on the wooden double door.  

His heart beat spedup at the sight, the metallic laugh a screech in his ears he did never want to hear again. Cassians breathes came uneven as he shook his brother awake - this time not taking his plate wide eyes off of the shadow, that slowly started to take form.

Rhys growled as he was once again dragged out of sleep, but as his grumpy glare saw Cass ,almost porcelain white skin - he did not question his brother -that looked straight ahead.

With a tired puzzeled gaze did the High Lord follow the view of his Commander, after he sat up. His thick black eyebrow furrowed as the question was written all over his face. The clawing fog that now formed into the stature of two persons was not at all familiar with him. Wait a clawing fog?!

Rhys violet eyes slowly widened as he came to the realization - still he breathed to his brother “I’m pretty sure there is a reasonable reason behind this.” 

And it would most likely not the reason of a company searching Bryaxis, that had killed off dozens the last time they saw them.

Cassian only stared further at the fog, as the metallic laugh was heared again.

And the black mist started to lift. Strand for strand it unwrapped two persons. At the sight of those two pairs of legs, was Cassian glad - knowing it was not his worst nightmare, but who were then the intruders?

Rhys slowly scooched closer to his brother as he ,too, saw the two pairs of leggs. One pair, the more delicate and smaller one, covered in a pair of shiny grey harem’s pants. The tiny feet covered with a pair of silver ballerinas. While the other one seemed more masculine, a long turquoise sheet of fabric dangling over a pair of white pants.

And soon the two frightened brothers were greeted by their little angry, ancient friend. Amrens silver eyes swimming with an emotion both did not want to know what it promissed, while her blood red mouth formed into a twisted smirk as she looked up at Varian.

Varian beside her, was quiet as always. His face seeming a bit more grimm, but also lighter as a smirk, too, layed on his lips and he picked up the tiny female.

Her short legs wrapping around his middle imedeatly as his lips found purchase on her red painted ones. One of his large hands wound around her behind, to keep her steddy beside him - while the other tangeled and ruffeled her silky short black hair.

A growl escaping the two of them, while they did not seem as if they noticed the confused and quiet disturbed gazes of the two brothers, that were frightened for their life at the view.

They both were happy to call someone like Amren their family and that she found herself Varian, but both did never want to find out these specific things. Seeing how their chests pressed into one another, her hips grinding into his. There would have not even fit a sheet of paper between them. It seemed like as if the two wanted to become one right infront of Rhys and Cassian.

And it might have been that the two accted like little boys, that just had cought their parents in the middle of something, but they did not want to watch this unfold even more. A shiver running down both of their spines as they thought about it. And so Rhys took the bravery to clear his throat - loudly.

But the pants of the two were louder as they broke appart. Amrens arms wound thightly in Varians hair, their eyes only snapping away from each other as they heared Cass massive frame coliding with the floor.

The commander did not want to see this unfold any longer, but the blanket had cought his legs at the attempt to flee. All pairs of eyes on his form on the cold floor. Annoyed by the reason for his fall he snapped “You two having your fun?!”

Amren only smirked, as her whole body stayed wrapped against Varians. Her blood red lips one devils smirk as she answered: “Thank you very much Cassian, it is actually quiet fun for the both of us, yes.”

Varian had the decency to turn a bit red as he nudged his dark nose against her almost white cheek. But the smirk that formed on his lips as well, had the two brothers shaking.

Rhys slowly crawled to Cassian as to not caugh the attention of the two smirking lovers and leaned down to him. Freeing his brother all too slowly from the silky fetters around his ankels. “We run at three, got that?” Cassian only nodded. Bracing himself on his forearms as to slowly get up.

But before Rhys had even got the chance to say one, went Amrens attention back to them. That words that left her smirking mouth had them flying for the door behind them. “Would you like to join us?”

They both moved fast as lightning for the door. The heavy wood flinging wide open at the force Cass used to open it up with. This was worse than Bryaxis! decided Cassian for himself as he bolted down the hallway to the living room.

There was no way in hell he would open up that cursed chamber of his. Afterall they both had already been in his room. Oh gods he did not even want to think about that!

And while both, Cass and Rhys, ran down the stairs to sleep on the couch. They did not hear the metallic laugh that left Rhys and Feyres bedroom.

None of the two carred about the sound, as they both ran to get their eyes as far away, from the two, as possible. Rhys not carring at all that his bedroom was used for their fun.

There were plenty of rooms in the riverestate. He and Feyre could simply move into one of them, though the explanation might be a bit difficult.

Even though both Illyrians did not know why Amren showed up in the middle of Rhys bedroom - they were horrified. The few pictures that they had seen in the dimm hue of moonlight, enough for the rest of eternity.

The fire in the fireplace to source of warmth as they , both, layed under a pile of blankets on the couch. Sleep without a nightmare hard to find for the two of them.

*****

As the two drunken and sleepy Illyrians stumbeled out the room, was the seer in need of biting her bottom lip -hard- to prevent herself from bursting out laughing.

And it seemed that even the stoic shadowsinger beside her, had to pull hard on his leash of restraint to not burst out lauging too.A light snicker escaping him.

Elain nudged his, brown painted, arm with hers. A smile on her lips as she gazed up at him. Him and his turquoise eyes.

She pounted.

Bold in her drunken state did words leave her mouth, she would have never said if she was sober - but that whole plan of hers was something she would have never done in a sober state.

“I like your hazel eyes better.” was all she mumbled

Azriel grew stiff for a moment at the comment, before he lifted his scarred hand and pulled the two contact lenses out. Revealing his hazel eyes onse again. The emotions inside of them, that made the green and brown appear like one swirl of color - as if they had been painted by Feyre herself with her oil paint, a true master piece. Making the seer lose her breath.

And so did the Shadowsinger as he heaved a sigh once the two foreign bodys were out of his eyes.

The kind smile he offered his friend was something breathtaking, but Elains breath was knocked out of her lungs for another reason.

Her still silver eyes widening at the red smeared lipstick on his sinfull lips.Those lips that had touched and caressed hers like a real lover, wrapping her soft cold lips into the warm blanket of his.

Even though the act, they just had put up, seemed wild and full of passion and like something that was clearly created by Amren and her lover.

But it wasn’t.

It was a song that was sung by the uniting bodys of the Shadowsinger and the seer. A symphony that only their soul and body could create, but that was something that could only be felt by the two of them.

Two drunken ones not even able to notice the difference between those who played infront of them and those which were the real ones.

The hight difference between ‘Amren’ and ‘Varian’ , that stood in the middle of Rhys and Feyres bedroom, gazing at each other with such warmth and intensity that could melt ice, was a lot lesser than the original one.

Something the make up skills of Elain could not make up for.

As well as the bulkier stature of ‘Varian’ and since it was dark, it was also not noticed that his entire backside was covered in shadows.

The black swirling whisps little snakes around Azriels wings, covering everything up like a cloak. Something he had already done many times - mostly durning spies and visits to the mortal lands after the war.

And Elain needed to admit, her eyes taking in every inch of Azriels disguised form, that she would never want anyone else besides the shadowsinger.

His tan, but not ebony skin. His hazel eyes - not quiet brown but also not grey or green either. His touseled soft black hair, instead of white flowing one.

Elain realized with shock, as she lifted her hand to cup the Shadowsingers brown cheek, that there would never be anyone as beautiful as Azriel for her.

Body and Soul. Of course did he have cracks and weired habits of his. Scars covering his body, his hands mostly, but also his heart. His kind heart that seemed for most cold, but was in truth the hearth of a fire to which, at least, sweet Elain wanted to come home forever.

Her pale hand that rested on his dark cheek and tried to smear away a bit of the color on his gods crafted face, did nothing. She only caressed his cheek. And the Shadowsinger could do nothing more than close his eyes - leaning in to the soft touch of hers.

A chuckle escaping his relaxed face as he realized what the intensing swipes with her thumb attemted to do. “You do remember, El, that you yourself had put smearproof make up all over my skin, right?”

Elains eyes widened slowly “Oh.”

Azriel burst out full laughing at her short memory, that usualy remembered everything from the start of her fae life, her tipsy state having clearly infected her a bit too much.

Both probably too tipsy at this point that they did not care at all, that they were laughing like maniacs in the middle of darkness. Bold words leaving their mouthes as a fire ignited between the two.

Elain innocent smile, seeming all weired and twisted in Amrens form. But Amrens looks fit her wicked tongue just right. 

A gleam in the silver contact lenses of hers. “Well I guess that I have to remove it all again then.”

Azriel did not know how he would have reacted if he had been sober, but all he remembered in his tipsy state, was that he closed the little distance between them. One of his scarred hands holding his lenses as the other lifted to the seers soft cheek. 

The distance between them, the distance that was barely there - was unbearable as Azriels already red smeared lips were only milimiters away from hers. A soft whisper of them and his words everything against them.

A few little words, a touch all it needed for Elain to shiver from delight. Gosepumps appearing all over her body. 

“You would not be capable of what you unleash, little seer.” 

Elains breath was cought in her lungs. There were only a few times were he called her with such names. She mostly knew in which situation he used which nickname for her, but with these she never knew. 

His gaze always holding, in such moments, a stronger intensity. 

“I think you’re underestimating me, Spymaster.” 

And just before she closed the milimeter between them, breathless words left her lungs. 

“Because I know I could handle you, Azriel. Forever.” 

Those were the words that unleashed the Shadowsinger. Never in his life had he heared such sweet words and for the first time of his life did he want to taste these sweet words on her lips.

Every mother damned syllable of them. 

A dance of soft lips fighting against each other, erupting in the soft hue of moon light before they were gone in a shadowy breeze.

_______________________________________________________________

Taglist (please contact me if you want to be added or removed from the list):

@heirofthrnightcourt004

[goldenponcho]

A Cruise Fit for a King Chapter 7

Last Chapter | First Chapter

As soon as the keys had entered the ignition and his eardrums were blasted with a couple hundred decibels of industrial metal, Hugo knew that this would not be a leisurely drive. He braced himself against the dash as the tires ground into the earth leaving a dirt cloud behind them. A frantic grasp for a seatbelt confirmed that there wasn’t one.

Hugo caught a sideways glance from the gap between her face and her glasses as Cai smirked. From what he could see, her eyes appeared purple, but that was probably due to the reflection of the red lenses. They could have been blue, maybe light brown.

She turned to look directly at him and yelled something he could hear, but couldn’t make sense of.

“WHAT?!” he cupped a hand around his ear but had to return it to brace himself against the dash again as the truck plowed over what must have been a full size log.

She laughed, which he could hear even over the cacophony through the radio before she switched the track to a much mellower slow jazz, “Sorry! I forget most other mutes hate loud music. So! How’d you wind up in the middle of the ocean? I didn’t think most primates were particularly fond of water.”

“This one certainly isn’t,” he slowly lowered his hands from the dash as Cai seemed to be driving a little more cautiously, “It’s a rather long story, though.”

“Right…you’ll probably wanna rest before getting into all that. OH!” Cai reached around to rummage through a dirt stained cooler in the back seat before handing him a thermos. “This should have a pH a little more to your liking.”

Yellow eyes bulged as Hugo took it and fumbled with the cap, splashing some of the cold water out as he downed it in seconds.

“Woah! Slow down, Speed Racer! You’ll make yourself vom doing that!”

Hugo calmed his gasping breath, leaning back against the seat with closed eyes and taking a moment to enjoy the last of the cool fluid running down his throat. It was several seconds before he felt eyes on him and reopened his to see Cai staring with a grin. He quickly righted himself and wiped the dribbled water from his beard.

“There should be one more in there I think…if you want it.”

Hugo nodded vigorously, “Yes, please,” and turned to dig through half melted ice to find another thermos.

“And slow your roll!” she chortled, “I don’t want puke on the upholstery!”

He had been about to down this one the same as the last but decided she was probably right and attempted to pace himself. As he took small sips, the markings on Cai’s exposed leg caught his eye. Jagged stripes and irregular spots tapered from beneath her open cloak nearly to her knee. He had pointed them out before but hadn’t had the time to really consider why a mandrill might have such markings. Perhaps the mutagen that changed her ancestors was a bit different than the one used on him in the burrow lab. Or maybe it could have to do with cross breeding between similar mutes…

“There’s plenty more water at home if you need it.”

He was shaken from his musings, and felt his face grow hot, wondering if she had caught him staring.

“Stuff to eat too. We’ll be there in a second; it’s just up the road here.”

Hugo glanced out the window as they came through the trees and onto an actual paved road. This was starting to look a bit more like some areas of Las Vistas; old, overgrown buildings, sagging power lines, all the remnants of a long gone civilization.

“You said you live alone?”

Cai shrugged, “Sort of…”

Hugo was about to ask what she meant by that before she pulled the truck over into a large parking lot. In front of them was a large stone building, probably almost the size of his palace, covered in the usual greenery and flora that had consumed most man made structures. A couple of trees stuck up from the roof, large, but practically saplings compared to what the full height of a mutated tree would eventually become. An eroded, engraved stone face next to the entrance read “Halemaumau Public Library”.

“You live here? Alone?”

“I know! Pretty lucky…” She shifted into park and turned off the truck, opening the door to get out.

Hugo followed, taking in the scenery. In front of the entrance was what must have once been a fountain, now just a sheet of orange and blue stained glass that had been shattered at the top standing in the middle of a large basin with stair-stepped, roughly cubbed out rocks around it. As they rounded the other side, the glass glowed as the sun shown through from the other side.

That was when he heard stomping.

“Op!” Cai gave a nod, “Here comes my security system.”

As the stomping grew louder, it soon grew faster, and from around the corner of the library, a blue, triangular head appeared, with four bulging, golden eyes.

“Gertie!”

Slitted pupils darted from Cai to Hugo, and he felt the fur stand up along his back as the mega mute’s head rose up on an impossibly long neck to open its mouth into a rattling hiss.

“It’s ok, Gertie; he’s with me!”

The giant gecko seemed satisfied with her response and lowered its head again before licking all four eyes at once with four separate tongues. Hugo stopped himself from jumping when Cai nudged his shoulder with hers, motioning to follow her to the massive double doors.

The blue glass doors were fogged, further blurring the inside, and when Cai opened one, a warm vapor escaped. Hugo’s eyes widened as they were both covered in a coating of condensation. He shook his mane, only for it to floof out into even more of a disheveled mess, which Cai politely pretended not to notice as she stepped ahead of him into the library.

The inside was a veritable rain forest. Tropical plants and trees had completely overtaken the empty shelves, and the front desk was buried under the roots of one of the trees that sprouted up into the ceiling. He also thought he heard the sound of moving water.

“Pretty nifty, idn’t it?”

“Yes, NIFTY…” Hugo shook his head again, droplets of water scattering from wildly frizzing fur, “…and WET…”

Cai smirked and motioned for him to continue around the tree with her, “Don’t worry, the other rooms aren’t nearly as humid.”

Empty shelves littered the expansive room, many toppled like dominoes and some shattered and disassembled. Some had been used to build platforms to the upper level next to a demolished staircase.

As they rounded the debris, the whole floor along the back side of the building was hollowed out to make room for a stream to flow through from outside. And around it were five more mega mutes all acknowledging their presence but seeming to mind their own business: an eight limbed sea turtle; two multi-eyed and horned chameleons; a bat with four wings and two mouths, one on top of the other; and a six winged, four legged macaw.

“That’s Morla, Thing 1 and Thing 2, King Gidora, and Edgar,” she pointed them out in order.

There was a discontented grunt followed by a yelp from Edgar before he flew to perch on the ledge of the second floor, and Hugo gasped. A perfectly average, completely normal sized walrus lumbered forward to take his place.

“Aaand Lil’ Tubersteins got here a couple weeks ago,” Cai seemed a little uneasy at the comparatively small animal, “No one messes with Lil’ Tubersteins. He’s got some serious inner demons he’s working out, I think.”

Hugo took a sudden step to stand next to Cai, “WHERE did you find that?”

Cai shrugged, “He found US. That’s how any mute ends up here. He must have swam upstream from the ocean. I guess there ARE a few non-mute animals left out there…”

Hugo shook his head, “Not ones that weren’t mutes before…”

If Cai hadn’t still been wearing her sunglasses, he would have seen her eyes widen, “That’s sinister and off-putting… It sounds like you’ve got experience.”

“More than I’d like to have…” he trailed off as he couldn’t muffle a yawn.

“You can tell me about it after nap time…” She placed a hand on his shoulder and led him toward the makeshift staircase, “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

[askkrenko]

Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Onix Line

Look, I’m not saying Onix is inherently a metaphor or was designed to be one, but just as we use euphemisms in the real world, there is absolutely no way that the men of Kanto don’t refer to their “Rock Snake Pocket Monster” and mean something entirely different from an actual Onix. DESIGN:  Onix is a huge serpent made of boulders stuck together, with an inexplicable spike on its head, and you know what? It gets the point across. Its size makes it scary, it blends in with the terrain enough to make it clear why it’s advantageous to look like that, and it’s design is simple but also detailed enough to not look silly. I really like the design of this long, hard beast. Steelix is then less interesting. The metallic sheen and tail spike are cool, and I do actually really like the head redesign, but the crossbars don’t strike me as anything that do anything but make it harder to go through tunnels, they look kind of goofy like stubby arms and legs, and Steelix’s huge head makes its body look short.  This thing is thirty feet long but because its head is so big compared to the rest of it, it looks more childish than Onix does. 

It seriously looks like this thing needs to keep growing, and it’s all because of its ridiculous, massive head. Shrink that thing down and we’ve got a much better serpent. Mega Steelix is an overdesigned mess. It still looks too short, it has a weirdly flat face, it has crystals now for some reason, and what’s with the blue hexagons?   Oh, and the crystals aren’t even sharp so it looks LESS dangerous than Steelix did. Onix has three forms and its later forms are just... less good.

EVOLUTIONS: I dislike trade evolutions, but what I really dislike is trade evolutions that require a specific item. If the item can do it, just let the item do it. You’re asking for extra steps with another player that don’t really enhance the gameplay. It’s just a chore.  At the time of this writing I’ve mostly completed my Crown Tundra and Isle of Armor Pokedex. I’m missing some Sword Exclusives... and I’m missing some Pokemon that only evolve by trading. Because I have to take time out of playing the game to actually get that dealt with. And the ‘requires a metal coat’ thing is just an excuse to explain why Onix couldn’t evolve in gen 1. At this point, just let it be a trade evolution. Onix, Magmar, Rhydon, Slowpoke, all of them.  Steelix is a great choice of Pokemon to Mega. While I don’t like the visual design, Steelix as a Pokemon always needed a bit more of a boost, and it was frankly a bit big. Very few Pokemon evolve past 450 stat total, and Type Null’s the only Pokemon with a stat total over Steelix’s 510 that gets to evolve (And frankly, Type: Null to Silvally is one of the smallest evolutionary jumps in all of Pokemon in terms of raw stats.) So yeah, Steelix was a good choice for a Mega, bring up a weaker full evolved Pokemon.

On the other end of the spectrum, Onix is big enough that adding a Baby Onix at some point would be an entirely reasonable option. This isn’t to say I think the games actually need one, just that there’s clearly room for it in the evolutionary line. 

Art by mark331

TYPING: 

While Onix was a Rock/Ground type, the decision to evolve it away from that was probably due to Rhydon and Golem already existing. Rock/Ground is very mediocre defensively. Though it has an immunity and five resistances, two of its six weaknesses are double weaknesses.  Offensively, the combo’s got super-effective hits on eight types, with nothing resisting both. But you’re not using Onix in a real fight, you’re using Steelix. Steelix is Steel/Ground, which gives it one of the best defensive lineups in the game. With eight resistances, two immunities, and four weaknesses, Steelix is capable of some serious tanking.  Offensively, Steel instead of Rock still gives Supereffective Stab against seven types, and once again there’s no type that resists both Steel and Ground attacks.

Art by Arvalis

STATS:  Steelix has 200 defense.

That’s it. That’s all Steelix’s stats. Okay, its HP and Attack are average. Its Special Defense is sub-par but not painfully so, and its speed is negligible. But it has 200 defense, one of the highest in the game, and when combined with its strong resistances, Steelix is one of the tankiest tanks around. 

Mega Steelix ups the stats that needed it most. While a defense rise from 200 to 230, while amazing and the new highest, is actually kind of negligible at that point, upping Special Defense to 95 and Attack to 125 turns Steelix into the full package, minus the part where it always, always, always goes last.  The weird part there is, Onix has a respectable speed of 70. Guess all that metal slows it down.

ABILITIES:  Steelix has three ability options and, honestly, they all should be good but none of them really live up to their full potential on Steelix. Sturdy is probably the least necessary of the three, but Steelix is still vulnerable to one big hit from a strong hit from a special sweeper, and being able to give a flat ‘no’ to those is useful.  Sheer Force is a particularly powerful ability that increases the damage of attacks by 30% by removing their beneficial secondary effects.  Steelix has a decent variety of moves that can take advantage of this, most notably Iron Head and Rock Slide, but also the elemental fangs for type coverage.

Rock Head is probably Steelix’s strongest ability. Rock Head removes recoil damage from attacks, and while Steelix only has two attacks that can take advantage of this,  one of them is Head Smash, a 150 Power Rock Move that normally deals 50% of the damage dealt as recoil damage.  Rock Head doesn’t have the versatility of Sheer Force, but a Super-Effective Sheer Force Thunder/Ice/Fire Fang is still only doing slightly more damage than a neutral Head Smash, and Steelix’s best attacks, Earthquake and Body Press, can’t benefit from either. Mega Steelix, sadly, does not get Rock Head. Mega Steelix gets Sand Force, which increases the damage of its STAB and Rock moves during a sandstorm. Obviously, this takes effort to set up, and Steelix doesn’t get the Rock-type defensive benefits, but hey, if you’re going to Sandstorm, Mega Steelix is a great idea.

Art by Isabelle Rathner

MOVES:  It’s weird to say, but Steelix’s strongest attack isn’t STAB. While Mega Steelix just Earthquakes basically everything forever,   Steelix’s 200 defense to 85 attack ratio means Body Press outdamages even Earthquake, though it does have the issue that more things resist Fighting than are weak to it. 

From there, you’ll want some coverage. Earthquake, Head Smash (with Rock Head), various Sheer Force attacks, etc, are all options.  Steelix is also slow enough that Gyro Ball is often very strong for it, especially if you get a nature with -Speed instead of the more obvious -Special Attack.  Mega Steelix is heavy enough to reliably Heavy Slam, but I wouldn’t try it with regular Steelix. 

Generally, for coverage you want to combine Ground with Steel or Fighting with Rock.  “Ground and steel” might seem obvious because Steelix is Ground and Steel, but Head Smash and Body Press are both as strong as Earthquake, and how well your Steel moves work really depends on what you’re fighting. And you can use three if you really want to. 

Then you get the setup moves. Steelix has two great setup options. Iron Defense raises its already insane defense to a ludicrous level and functions as Swords Dance for Body Press. On the other hand, Curse increases  the Power of Gyro Ball while also raising Attack and Defense one stage. It’s not as much raw power as the Iron Defense+ Body Press strategy, but, as said, a lot of things resist Fighting. In fact, Fighting and Steel make a good attack duo for coverage purposes, and Curse still increases damage from Body Press, just by one stage instead of two. What makes Steelix interesting here is that with a few turns of setup it can start sweeping, and its defenses mean there’s only a few attacks that can do good damage against it.

For a more defensive option, try having another Pokemon lay down Spikes, then have Steelix use Stealth Rock and bat Pokémon about with Dragon Tail. Whipping up a Sandstorm also works great in this scenario.  Combine with Leftovers for maximum longevity, and your opponent will probably take a lot of random damage throughout their team before something’s able to put a serious dent in Steelix.

Art by Tious

OVERALL:  Steelix is a lot of cool stuff that interacts in weird but not quite great ways. Sheer Force is a strong ability, but it can’t really take advantage in the way Nidoran can. Rock Head is great, but it doesn’t get STAB with either of the moves it applies to, unlike Aggron who gets Rock Head with STAB Head Smash. And then there’s Sand Force, which is strong, but as Steelix isn’t actually a Rock type, it doesn’t get the special defense boost.

You know, I kept thinking it, but this whole time it feels like Steelix would be better if everything else were identical but it was Rock/Steel instead of Ground/Steel... Though I guess Steelix’s defenses are overall more favorable, so maybe not.

Steelix is a great tank, and it has a few options of what to do while tanking, especially now that Body Press exists. Mega Steelix is even stronger, with a real attack stat. 

I just find myself moderately disappointed in all three ability options, despite them all being great ones. 

Also I still think Onix looked cooler.

[fluffychubbyrose]

Bucky x Insecure/Self Conscious Wife Reader.

Requested.

One Shot.

Warnings- Bucky may be O.C., Language, and slight slight NSFW blink and it's gone.

Sorry it isn't exactly what you requested and that it took so long but here you go hope you like it!!!

(I don't own these pictures.)

Tonight is my 1st anniversary of being married to Bucky Barnes. I managed to get out of work early today so I could pick up a new red with black lace baby doll with a matching bra and pantie set to hopefully boost my confidence up a little for tonight. I made sure that it wasn't to form fitting so that it didn't accent the new rolls, stretch marks, and bigger belly pooch I've seemed to gain since I've been eating so much fast food and junk food because of how busy I've been, and Bucky has been even busier than I am. Neither of us have had any time to sit down and eat a proper home cooked meal in forever. Let alone spend much time together.

That's the real reason why I wanted off early today so I could cook us a nice homemade meal something not sopping in grease or out of a package and I know Bucky is still uncomfortable out in public. Plus this is supposed to be our special night to spend some time together finally in what feels like forever there's no need to go out and be uncomfortable when we could have a nice night in, relax, and enjoy ourselves.

Hell I've probably seen him only a few times this week which didn't last more than 10 minutes at a time because one of us would have to rush off to our jobs or we are so exhausted from work that we just shower and go straight to bed.

That's why I gave my boss a 2 week notice that I needed to be let off early today and have a week off for vacation. I asked Bucky to do the same if he could but he didn't seem to concerned about it which hurt because this is our first anniversary but maybe he just forgot that it's this week he probably has a reminder set or something already planned.

It doesn't stop a little voice in my head saying 'He wasn't concerned because he doesn't care. He has nothing planned. He's tired of you already. Why would he want someone as big as you?' I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head knowing that it isn't true. Bucky loves me and I love him. Though as the hours tick by and it's already 9 p.m. and he still isn't home yet, so that voice continues to whisper more and more hurtful things. So much so, that I'm losing confidence in what it says isn't true.

I double check my outfit it's a knee high black keyhole dress to show off some of my cleavage without revealing the new baby doll and undergarment set I have on underneath. I smooth my hands down my dress with nerves from waiting so long for Bucky to come home. I text him when I was preparing dinner and he said he would be home in an hour or two.

That was three hours ago so instead of focusing and fussing on why he's late I double check the table I set earlier with a navy blue table cloth, clear vase with red roses in it, and two silver candle holders with white candles in them waiting to be lit so we can have a nice dinner by candle light. I smooth out the table cloth and mess with the positions of the roses out of nerves. I pace a little worrying my bottom lip while doing so and I'm glad I went with a lip stain rather than lip stick or I would have it all over my teeth by now. I glance at the stove, the dinner I made had been placed in the oven on low so it will stay warm until he gets home since he still wasn't here by the time I finished cooking it.

I sigh losing hope that he would be home anytime soon when the clock read 10 p.m. already and he hasn't text me to let me know he's running late. So I let my hair out of the up do I had it in and sit down at the table.

I'm about to take off my heels because all the pacing I did is making my feet feel like they were going to fall off when a disgruntled and ashamed looking Bucky rushed through the front door slamming it behind him with a box of chocolates in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. I jump and put my leg back down on the floor and I'm about to stand up when Bucky rushes to me saying "I'm so sorry baby girl I completely forgot." my heart lurches at that, and before I can stand up all the way he sets the gifts on the table and kisses me.

Hard. Weaving his arm around my waist while his other hand starts running through my hair. He turns leaning me against the table his body flushed with mine as I wrap my arms around his neck and tug on his hair. We break apart a few moments after with him holding me in a dipped position.

My face is burning and I'm left gasping the momentary hurt forgotten. I look up at him a bit shocked as I bring my arms down and push on him gently. He stands us back up, his arms still around me and my hands on his shoulders. "You look fucking gorgeous doll!" He says breathlessly looking me up and down.

I turn my head to the side with a small embarrassed smile on my face and his hand comes up and turns my gaze back towards his. "I mean it! Your beautiful and I love you so much doll!" His hold on me tightens and he moves so he's even closer to me like he's trying to make sure that there's absolutely no space between us.

"I know we haven't seen each other much and haven't been spending much time together but I'm going to make it up to you, I swear! I told Fury I need the week off so we can spend some much needed time together, and I'm so sorry sweetheart it's our first anniversary and I already messed it up. Steve is the one who told me it was our anniversary when he saw I was still at the tower planning for an upcoming mission. I just got caught up in it all." He says with sigh leaning his forehead on mine. He pecks my lips and give me an apologetic smile. "I rushed home but not before getting your favorite chocolates and flowers as an apology!" He says scratching the back of his neck a clear sign that he's embarrassed for forgetting our anniversary. I pull back from his embrace and look up at him holding his hands.

"You haven't messed it up, your here now that's all that matters and I love you too. Also as good as that chocolate sounds it'll have to wait and be our dessert because I made us dinner." I say bouncing a little, excited to show off the dinner I made. "I can smell it and I'm starving! Thank you for cooking for me baby girl, I swear I don't know what I ever did to deserve you. Hell I still think I don't deserve you most days. You've helped me so much to become a better man, like I used to be before all of this." He gestures to his metal arm.

"You've helped, no loved me through it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I can never thank you enough Y/n. I'm sorry I've been so busy and that's no excuse, it wasn't fair of me and I should have been making more time for you, to love you, and appreciate everything you do for me and that starts tonight after dinner. I'm going to make it up to you. Because there's something I want for dessert and it isn't that chocolate." He says giving me a predatory gaze making my heart beat rapidly in my chest.

My mouth goes dry and there's a lump in my throat. My face is burning and I try to subtly squeeze my thighs shut but the smirk he gives me as I move to place the flowers into the vase with the roses let's me know that he saw. Once I finished I grab the chocolates and then walk quickly into the kitchen and set them onto the counter for later, then I put my oven mitts on, just in case the plates got hot and take dinner out of the oven.

I turn around and use my foot to close the ovens door, the whole time his gaze never wandered from me. Not even when I walked over and set the plates down. "Fuck doll you made my favorite!" He groans out looking at me like he just won the lottery before sitting down. I light the candles and quickly sit down as well with a happy smile on my face.

I think we both ate much more quickly than anticipated from it being so late, and the fact that I don't think either of us can recall the last time we had an actual home cooked meal. I lean back in my chair with a happy sigh and place a hand on my over stuffed belly. Before any negative thoughts can pop up about how big or plush my belly has gotten, Bucky suddenly stands up and picks up both of our plates to go put them in the sink. He leans down towards me pecking my check and says "I'll be right back." I smile at him and he smirks in return. My nerves and insecurities are coming back full force but it's now or never as I head to our bedroom and strip out of my dress. I only get a moment to look at myself in the mirror before Bucky is in the doorway staring me down like I'm a feast laid out for a starving man. My face is burning again and I gulp nervously we haven't done anything like this in a long time, our schedules haven't allowed for it. We've been too tired or had to rush off to work.

"I love you so much." He says in a breathy moan with a dreamy look on his face, looking right into my eyes with such an intensity of both love and lust that I can't help the warm feeling spreading through my chest or how I get teary eyed and upset for doubting him or his love for me in the first place. I've been letting my insecurities get the better of me lately.

When he married me I was already a bit on the heavier side, so I should have known better that a few extra pounds or rolls wouldn't phase Bucky or even make him bat an eye on how he see's or feels about me. He proved just how much he loves me and just how beautiful he thinks my body is for the rest of the night.

@whyamihere-bro

[alecmagnuslwb]

Distance

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Four

Read on AO3

Jason holds his side tenderly as he ambles into the safehouse. Nothing feels broken, but it hurts like hell and all he wants to do is take a hot shower and crawl in bed with Roy.

Sadly one of those things is not option so the shower alone will have to do.

Jason tosses his helmet over the back of the couch and makes his way around it gingerly avoiding the toy Lian had left on the floor. It’s been sitting there weeks, Jason not bothering to pick it up since he’s become so used to walking around it.

He lets it lay there for the same reason he has yet to move Roy’s old t-shirt from the back of the couch. He misses them. He misses their presence and if leaving things exactly how they were the day they left for Star City makes him miss them a little less then that’s what he’ll do.

This Gotham safehouse just doesn’t feel like anything more than a safehouse without them there. Jason sighs flopping down onto the couch and regretting the way he bounces a little as he lands, an ache running through his ribs.

He moves around as little as he can taking off his leather jacket and unstrapping his guns. If Lian were here he’d ignore his aching ribs, suck it up and immediately put his guns in the safe, but since she isn’t leaving them on the coffee table so he can pass out on the couch for a while seems reasonable.

In theory he shouldn’t be so miserable, the pain of a few bruised ribs is nothing new and the summers always mean that Lian and Roy are gone. Summers are spent with the Arrows; Jason makes the trip out there once or twice if he can and spends the rest of his time keeping the scum of Gotham at bay that the other Bats miss or just don’t have the right style to handle.

The distance sucks, but he’s coping or at least he acts like he is when he talks on the phone with Roy almost every night or video chats to read Lian a bedtime story. He’s usually better at hiding it, but last night he’d been called out on his moping three separate times by Bruce and Damian. Bruce had just been slightly more delicate about it, not calling him a wimp like his little brother. The teasing however had led to him going out alone tonight, a thing he doesn’t do much these days, Roy almost always by his side.

Three years in with Roy and Lian and this little family they’ve built together and it should be easier to be apart by now, but somehow it’s more difficult. They’ve burrowed into his chest, his heart, his life and this safehouse they call home and it all feels emptier without them there.

Jason closes his eyes trying to not think about the big empty space and just rest for a few minutes. All he needs is a quick power nap before he gets up puts away his guns, takes a shower and collapses into the bed that’s far too big for one person.

He’s just on the precipice of sleep when he hears a shuffling sound upstairs.

He’s up in an instant, gun in hand as the sound of footsteps nears the metal spiral staircase. With no lights on the moon shining through the windows is the only thing illuminating the space, giving Jason still dressed in all black a cover of darkness. He crouches enough so that if need be he can use the couch as cover gun locked, loaded and ready.

The steps grow closer and Jason settles himself up just enough above the couch to have a decent shot when he recognizes the shadow expertly skipping the second to the last stair that always makes an awful squeaking metallic sound when hit.

“Jesus, Harper,” Jason says turning on the safety of his gun as he stands to his full height. Roy jumps, practically falling off the bottom stair. “I could’ve shot you.”

Roy turns hands in the air in surrender with a smile on his face.

“Sorry, didn’t hear you come in, fell asleep on the floor trying to pack some of Lian’s stuff back away.”

Jason holsters his gun and vaults himself over the back of the couch to get closer to Roy. He winces as he lands, his bruised ribs not loving the movement.

“You okay?” Roy asks nearing him. He reaches out batting Jason’s hand away from where he holds his ribs pulling up his shirt and undoing the clasps of his armor to get a look at Jason’s injuries.

“Not that I don’t love you getting me naked, but I’m fine I promise, just a little bruised,” Jason says not really making any effort to stop Roy as he gives him a sharp look and continues to strip away gear and push Jason’s shirt up to his pecs.

Roy runs his fingers carefully along the already dark and mottled spots.

“Rough night?” he asks.

“Ran into a pack of crazy Gotham hillbillies making meth down near the docks, there were more of them than I thought,” Jason explains. “You will be pleased to know after I shot one in the kneecap he moaned that he wished I was the arrow guy because that would probably hurt less.”

Roy chuckles still eyeing the bruises on Jason’s stomach. “Clearly he’s never taken an arrow to the knee then.”

“You sure nothing’s broken that looks pretty nasty?” he says fingers still gliding along the tender edges of the bruising. Jason closes his eyes for a second enjoying the touch, he’s felt touch starved for over a month now.

He nods in the affirmative and after a few more seconds of scrutiny Roy seems to believe him letting his shirt drop and moving his hands to settle on Jason’s hips.

“What are you doing here?” Jason asks as Roy pulls him in tipping their foreheads together.

“Dinah and Ollie got called away by Bats for some off-world Justice League thing and the demon brat called Emiko out for a Teen Titans mission, seemed like they were all gonna be gone for at least the rest of the week and I happened to miss you so thought I’d surprise you,” Roy explains quietly.

“Considering I almost shot you I’d say I was surprised,” Jason says reaching up his tired arms to rest on Roy’s shoulders.

Roy snorts. “Well that wasn’t the plan, we should have been here by dinner but then our flight got delayed and my phone died, we only got in about twenty minutes ago and despite her insistence she was going to stay up all night if she had to so she could see Jay Jay she passed out immediately, as did I despite my best effort.”

Jason smiles fondly his affection for the little girl who’s come to be his daughter just as much as Roy’s growing exponentially and impossibly greater every single day.

“I’m sure she’ll make up for it bright and early no doubt,” he smiles and leans back a little bit. He runs his fingers through Roy’s hair undoing the messy bun at the base of his neck, it’s getting long past his shoulders now and in desperate need of a cut.

“So how long do I get you for?” he asks pressing a kiss to Roy’s cheek before walking back over to the coffee table and picking up his guns.

Roy follows him as he heads over to the wall safe. He presses his thumb to the discreet panel next to the painting Alfred gifted them and it pops open revealing the safe.

“Well technically forever,” Roy grins as Jason turns the dial putting in the combination and popping open one of the seven safes they have to store weapons. “But in this immediate case four whole days. Then it’ll only be about two more weeks before schools back in and you won’t be able to get rid of us for months.”

Jason smiles as he double checks the safety on his guns before sitting them in the safe and sealing it tightly. He swivels back to face Roy as the painting shuts tightly back to the wall.

“Oh the horror,” Jason teases grabbing Roy’s hand and heading for the stairs. “We can do a whole lot in four days.”

Roy hums in agreement looking Jason up and down as they make their way up the stairs.

“But first I need a shower,” Jason says pulling away from Roy for a moment when they reach the top of the stairs to peek into Lian’s room. Space shapes play on the ceiling from her nightlight as she lays nestled into a million stuffed animals at the center of her bed.

Roy wraps his arms around him from behind pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder as they back away from the door.

“Want some company?” he asks pressing another, much slower kiss to Jason’s shoulder as he pulls Lian’s door closed.

“I always want your company,” he replies twisting around and out of Roy’s hold already pulling his shirt of over his head as he heads down the hall towards the bathroom attached to their bedroom. Roy’s footsteps pick up their pace behind him not wasting a second of the four days ahead of them.

[zigtheeortega]

as good as gold

✿ pairing: mal x mc

✿ word count: 2971

✿ tags: @roguemal ; @violinet ; @nickyvalentinos ; @adrixnrxines ; @senatorraines​

✿ author’s note: okay so this is honestly the weirdest coincidence... i started working on this fic back in early march, and i abandoned it bc it was originally going to be smut, but i just never got around to finishing the actual smut because i wasn’t feeling it, and i wasn’t that confident in the plot. i totally forgot about it, until i read today’s chapter... and i saw parallels between this fic, that i’d abandoned, and the diamond scene/elite skill scene today with mal.

it made me a lot more confident in this because it made me feel like i genuinely understand mal’s character more than i ever thought? (there are parallels between his list of favorite things, stealth, the sneaking around, etc.) anyways, i wrapped it up and thought i’d post it; thank u andrew for writing one of my favorite characters ever and confirming actions and dialogue i thought he’d do ! andrew stans rise. (hope u enjoy pls lmk if u liked it!)

“Thank Gods they sent us. I’m dying to stretch my legs,” Mal said, tossing the gold coins in the air, the clinking of the metal ringing out against the walls of the abandoned safe house.

They walked towards the entrance, the fresh air hitting them, and their lungs were grateful for the relief. The mildewed stench had been unbearable, but they had to suffer through it. The bounty on their head was enough to turn anyone against them.

Their collective rations weren’t enough to keep them fed. With Tyril being the perpetrator, they agreed it was safe enough for Mal and Zilyana to visit the marketplace, as long as they laid low.

“You’re telling me,” she smiled, inhaling deeply. The scent of the damp, mossy alleyway was incredible in comparison to the moldy smell of their hideout.

She shielded her eyes, squinting at the intense light. They had not seen the sun in days, so the warm blanket was a semblance of hope. She’d rescue Kade soon enough; the warmth on her face proved that all hope wasn’t lost.

They walked in silence, weaving through the alleyways towards the marketplace. Mal stopped abruptly at the end of the alleyway, bracing his forearm against her chest to keep her from going any further.

She caught herself gaping at him as he peeked around the corner a couple of times. His windswept hair framed his face beautifully, curling around his defined jaw, the tips resting neatly against his beard.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a smirk on his face. “Caught you staring.”

She averted her eyes, looking upwards. “Was not.”

“The blush in your cheeks betrays you.”

There was no hiding the violet heat creeping across her face and ears. She’d been drawn to his charismatic nature, his carefree, adventurous attitude one that she envied. He owed nothing to anyone, and he never thought twice about his perception to others.

But underneath the snarky, flirtatious facade, lurked layers of melancholia that she wanted so desperately to uncover.

He cocked his head towards the opening, signaling the coast was clear. “Thought I heard something. We’re safe.”

She scoffed, following closely behind him. “Your definition of safe is ‘not currently being chased’?”

He laughed breathily, and shrugged. “You hit the nail on the head. I’m like a honey trap for trouble.”

The sound of bartering shoppers hit them before the smell of fish and sweat did. “What’s the plan? They might recognize us,” she whispered in his ear, acutely aware of the proximity of their bodies.

She noticed him pocket the gold Tyril had given them for the food. “Mal, what –”

“Just trust me on this, kit. I’ve probably stolen as much food that’s in this marketplace, twice over. I can get us the food and we can keep the loot.” He tried stepping forward, but she grabbed a fistful of the back of his shirt.

“Or we could just stick to the original plan and use the gold for our food and go,” she said, tugging him backward.

“As long as we can have a quick escape route, it’ll be seamless,” he said, turning to meet her eye. “Trust me, Zilyana.”

And she did.

The mischievous look in his eye was enough to send her heart into a tailspin, but his mention of her name was what sealed the deal. It was a rarity that Mal traded in her nickname for her real name, so when he used it, she knew he was being honest for once.

She didn’t know what part of her compelled him to take her under his “wing”. Maybe he was tired of being alone. Maybe he was desperately crying out for someone to get to know the real him. Maybe he’d been calling out for so long, and she was the first to answer.

“I trust you, Mal.”

His eyes softened. She knew he hadn’t heard that in a long time. “Follow my lead.”

At the end of the last alleyway, there was a large fabric trade stand, with various cut and uncut fabrics of different colors and materials, finished garments hung from a clothesline.

He tossed a dagger into the wooden scaffolding holding up the stand, startling the old man at the booth. When he stood to inspect it, Mal snagged two black cloaks.

“These cloaks serve as both a disguise and a red herring. If we’re caught, ditch the cloaks as fast as you can. Then we can walk freely without anyone knowing what we looked like in the first place,” he said, slipping his hood on. “It’ll be a piece of cake.”

“And we’re distracting them and snagging their food? Seems cheap,” she said, putting her hood up, annoyed at her ears poking into the fabric.

“You’re distracting them, and there’s a reason old tricks still work, kit.”

----

Zilyana used her natural seduction to trap a few unsuspecting suckers, and Mal snagged the food, storing it on the roof of a taller building, just high enough to not be spotted from other rooftops if they laid down.

“I’ve never had an apple before,” she purred, stroking the vendor’s arm with the tips of her slender fingers. It was a horrible lie, but it was working.

“Y-you haven’t?” he stammered, clearly flustered.

“I’m not from around here,” she smiled, leaning forward, exposing just enough of her collarbone and the top of her breasts to reel him in.

“I don’t normally do this, but this one is on me,” he smiled timidly, handing her a bright red apple. Little did he know, Mal had been snagging item after item from his stand behind his back.

She took it from him, brushing her fingers across his knuckles. “You’re too kind. I owe you.” 

He blushed furiously, looking anywhere but her face. “I wouldn’t mind taking you out to my favorite tavern down the road––”

“Oh, I’m leaving town tomorrow,” she pouted, batting her eyes. “I wish we could’ve spent more time together.”

Mal emerged from the alleyway, watching closely. She didn’t know if he was capable of jealousy, but his nonchalance vanished when the vendor asked her on a date.

“I’m closing up shop soon, if you’re willing to wait for me.” He said, the blush still lingering on his cheeks.

“Balmed is that you? Oh my Gods, it’s been so long!” She exclaimed, looking at Mal, who still watched from the shadows.

The vendor turned quickly, noticing no one was there. He looked back at her, then double-taked, scrutinizing his stand of apples. “Hey…”

She sprinted past him, kicking the back of his knees so he crumpled, but it didn’t stop him from yelling, “Thief!” at the top of his lungs.

Mal grabbed her hand, whisking her down the dark alleyway. The sun had dipped just below the buildings, making the alleys a perfect getaway.

They rounded the corner, ready to discard their cloaks, but they spotted guards barreling towards them from both directions.

“What do we do?” She practically cried, gripping his shoulder.

“There’s two of us, and four of them, kit. You do the math,” he smirked, unsheathing his dagger.

“But that makes it sound like we should run–”

He whipped his arm forward, sending a dagger into the nearest guard’s shoulder before decking the other in the jaw.

Zilyana knew that Mal’s sheer dumb luck was part of the reason he was a notable thief. He somehow managed to survive in every situation, like a rodent.

She drew her sword and slashed the guard in front of her in one fluid sweep, kicking the other in the chest, sending him sprawling.

“That was a little too easy,” she trailed off, her senses sparking. She had no control over her elven senses, but they usually came to her when she needed them most, similar to a fight or flight response.

“I think the guards have us cornered but we haven’t met them yet. I can hear footsteps.”

Mal’s eyebrows rose. “We’re completely surrounded?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

“Alright? What are we gonna do?” she asked, hysteria begging to burst through her calm demeanor.

“The rooftop where we stashed the goods isn’t far away. I’d say five buildings or so over. After they pass, we’ll have to jump from roof to roof –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m not even in the right garments to jump right now,” she shook her head, gesturing to her casual dress.

“You’re just gonna have to flash the entirety of Port Parnassus,” he teased, turning to the wall next to him, covered in mossy vines.

He grabbed onto a vine and started climbing, her on his heels. The footsteps were within Mal’s hearing range by the time he got to the rooftop, so he extended an arm for her to grab.

She gripped his forearm, pushing herself off of the wall. It sent her flying into Mal, the momentum too much for the short distance. They fell over, her landing on top of him, chest to chest, their noses nearly touching.

She could see a snarky quip forming on his lips, but it never came. She watched his smug grin dissolve into admiration, his gaze softening as he glanced back and forth from her eyes to mouth. The lingering rays of sunlight struck their rooftop, hitting Mal’s face, transforming his dark brown eyes into a stunning liquid pool of amber, flecks of gold she’d never noticed before reflecting the light.

He reached up, pressing a gloved hand on her face, gently stroking her jaw. She leaned into the embrace, closing her eyes and sighing just low enough for him to hear.

A low growl rumbled through his chest, the vibrations passing through her own. He watched her, transfixed, through half lidded eyes.

“Have you always been this beautiful, kit? Or have I just been too stupid to notice?” He whispered, tenderly gripping her chin with his thumb and pointer finger.

She smiled, holding back a laugh as they heard the guards clamor down an alley nearby. “I don’t know if I’d say you were stupid…”

With his eyes trained on her lips, she leaned down, closing the distance between them, her parted lips meeting his. He could’ve frozen up – he could’ve pushed her away. Instead, he tangled his gloved hand through her hair, deepening the kiss.

He snaked his arm around her waist, his grip firm and commanding. He tasted sweeter than she could’ve imagined, his scent even more intoxicating up close.

He pulled away, searching her features. She couldn’t tell if he was thinking she’d regretted it that fast, but she was determined to ease his mind. Zilyana recognized the walls he put up; they were familiar because they mirrored her own. 

“Anything we do from this point on, I won’t regret. Don’t worry,” she whispered, stroking her thumb across his beard.

He looked at her like he was truly seeing her for the first time. Like he was safe with her. Like he wanted her too. 

The guards passed through the alleyway next to them, the clanking of their armor drowning out Mal and Zilyana’s labored breaths.

He pulled her close, tucking her underneath his head, his arms circling her protectively until the guards passed.

They stayed in the same position, embracing, until the sun set, making way for the midnight skyline freckled with glimmering stars.

After the street lanterns were lit, and the residents of Parnassus were tucked into bed, they were momentarily safe enough to discard the cloaks and sneak back to the rooftop where their food was stashed.

Once they were on the rooftop, Mal gestured to her to walk towards the edge of the building. She looked out at the edge of the port city, the vast body of water rippling, the waves flicking calmly against the docks, the water reflecting the moonlight.

“I never get tired of views like these,” he sighed, snatching an apple and taking a bite. “I love gold, but I love a pretty view more.”

She eyed him, brows furrowed. “Alright, I love gold more. But scenery is a close second.”

“Mal the Magnificent is getting candid? Color me surprised,” she grinned, watching his expression match her own.

“What can I say? You’ve grown on me, kit.”

And that was all the validation she needed. She was chipping away at his facade brick-by-brick, and one day his defense would crumble. 

She’d be the only one to witness the beautiful destruction.

She crossed the distance between them, facing him while he chewed and swallowed his mouthful of apple. Juice dribbled down his beard, and she wanted so badly to taste the sweet flavor of his lips again.

“You’ve grown on me, too,” she said, reaching for his hand with her own, hooking a finger around his. She used the other hand to delicately swipe her thumb across his facial hair, drying his face of apple juice.

He watched her in awe, looking at her as if she were the only being in the world.

“We should probably get back,” she whispered, refusing to break eye contact. “They might be worried.”

“Yeah, they might be worried,” he repeated, still staring at her, squeezing her finger with his own. “But I think it’s better we stay the night.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to miss a second of seeing the moonlight on your skin,” he said, eyes roaming over her face.

Her face heated, breaking eye contact first. She knew the violet tones in her cheeks would betray her calm exterior once again.

“I could look at you for hours…” he trailed off, stepping closer towards her.

Their bodies were barely touching, their faces close enough so that the wind made the tips of his hair tickle her cheek.

He took his leather gloves off, revealing his scarred, calloused hands, likely from the years of training with blades. He cupped her face in his bare palms, the heat from his hands counteracting the chill of the sea breeze.

It was the first time he touched her with his bare hands, and she relished in the contact. It was a feeling of intimacy she hadn’t felt before.

She’d been abandoned by her birth parents and adopted by a human family. When they passed, she felt not only the tremendous loss of her parents, but the longing to be wanted by those who willingly left her before.

She saw so much of herself in Mal. The classic signs of abandonment issues were blatant in his personality. He wouldn’t admit it to her then, but he’d grow comfortable with her and come around. And she’d be there for him.

She watched as he leaned in tentatively. She closed the gap between them, pressing her mouth firmly against his, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He melted in her grip, a low groan coming from his throat at the initial kiss. She parted her lips, begging to taste him again.

She drug her hands around his torso, meeting at his belt buckle, unlatching and untying until they fell to the ground with a clank. She slid her hands underneath the tail of his tunic, pulling upwards. She was met with the firm muscles of his stomach, a soft tuft of hair from his navel to the waist of his pants.

“Zilyana, I…” he breathed, eyes half lidded.

“I want you,” she finished, pulling back just enough so that she could meet his gaze.

His hair had become unruly, whipped by the sea breeze and the momentum from running through the alleys of Parnassus. Loose strands framed his face like vines on a stone wall, begging for her hands to wrangle them.

“You sure you want this? We can pretend like it didn’t happen when we go back,” he said. She detected a twinge of uneasiness in his voice, like he didn’t know what he wanted from her.

“We can work it out later, Mal,” she whispered, running her hands farther up his chest.

He groaned, both because he was trying to maintain responsibility and his body was responding to her touch. “You’re right. Fuck it.”

He kissed her fervently, ripping at the laced-up ribbons on the back of her dress. The air between their bodies crackled, their unbridled sexual tension finally reaching its climactic end.

She tried helping him out of his clothes, but stopped after a few failed attempts. “For a simple guy, you have a complex wardrobe.”

He laughed, the deep bass of his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “I can be flashy when I want to be.”

He stripped his tunic off, then his boots, before helping her slide out of her dress. Her undergarments were thin, just thin enough so that he got a glimpse of her naked body underneath.

He rested his hands on her waist, pulling him towards her. She grazed her fingers across his stomach and lower back, lightly touching the dozens of scars. He had a story behind each scar, and she wanted to hear every one.

He eased her onto the stone, gently, like she was as fragile as a priceless heirloom.

“Look at you, Zilyana… so beautiful,” he whispered, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I told you I like a pretty view.”

She searched his eyes, the trace of golden flecks gone with the sunlight, and she smiled internally. She was learning to love gold, too, as greedy as it sounded.

----

[fandomrewrites]

Season 1, Episode 1: Wolf Moon

Hello! I have posted this story on my Wattpad (@stephielynn1226) but I decided to post it on here as a reader insert. I hope you guys enjoy and please leave constructive criticism! This story will be a Scott McCall x Twin Sister and at the beginning (Y/N) will be dating someone named Nate Wilson who I picture as Dylan Sprouse though I will not give him any specific characteristics so you can picture him however you want.

Season 1, Episode 1: Wolf Moon

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, Nate Wilson (OC) x Reader

Warnings: Nothing really, just the usual things to expect from Teen Wolf.

Word Count: 3,181

Season 1 Masterlist

It was the night before the first day of school and I just hopped out of the shower. I could hear my brother in the room next to mine preparing for his lacrosse practice tomorrow. As I was setting my phone down to charge I heard a creaking noise coming from downstairs. I quickly poked my head out of my room, “Scott? Did you hear that?”

Scott appeared from his room with a metal bat in hand, “Yeah, stay behind me.”

“You’re the one with asthma, maybe I should be protecting you.”

“Really (Y/N/N),” though I couldn’t see my twins face I knew he rolled his eyes when he answered.

As we slowly descended the stairs, my hand on Scott’s shoulder, we kept our eyes and ears peeled. We couldn’t see anyone inside so Scott slowly opened the front door and screamed. As soon as I saw who the intruder was I rolled my eyes and leaned on the door frame. 

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?” Scott exclaimed.

Stiles Stilinski, my brother’s dorky childhood best friend, was hanging upside down from our roof. “You weren’t answering your phone! Why do you have a bat?”

“We thought you were a predator!”

“Predator?” I mumbled giving Scott a questioning look.

Stiles laughed as he clumsily got down down from our roof, “Look, I know it’s late, but you guys got to hear this. My dad left twenty minutes ago. Dispatch call. They’re bringing in every officer of the Beacon department and even the state police.”

“For what?” Scott and I asked in unison.

“They found a body in the woods,” Stiles replied.

“A dead body?”

I scoffed, “Obviously Scott. They wouldn’t send that many people out there if they were looking for a body of water.”

Scott glared at me and then turned to Stiles who was trying to hide a snicker by continuing talking. “It was a girl probably in her twenties. Nobody knows what happened to her yet.”

“Wait, if they found the body, what are they looking for?” I question Stiles, as I stood up straighter and Scott nodded in agreement, wondering the same thing.

Stiles started to grin, it was the same grin he gets when he’s about to tell us some stupid idea, “That’s the best part... They only found half of the body! We’re going, so get dressed.”

My eyes widened as I started shaking my head, “Yeah right, we have school tomorrow and I am not stomping around through the woods looking for half of a body. You two idiots have fun and tell me about it tomorrow.” I then waved goodbye over my shoulder as I headed upstairs to get a good night’s sleep for classes the next day.

*_*_*_*_*_*

~ BEEP BEEP BEEP~

I quickly slammed my hand down to shut off my alarm then let out a groan. I slowly pulled my blankets off and stretched before getting fully out of my warm bed. I went to my closet and pulled out a black long sleeve crop top, black skinny jeans, and gold heels. I applied my usual smokey eye and mascara then brushed my chocolate brown hair. I checked my mirror to make sure y outfit, makeup and hair all looked good then made my way to the bathroom Scott and I share. I quickly brushed my teeth then headed downstairs with my bag and phone.

“Morning mother,” I gave my mom a quick kiss on the cheek and grabbed a granola bar from the pantry.

“Good morning, sleep well?” She questioned as she sipped her coffee.

“Yeah, just wished I could have slept longer.”

My mom chuckled, “Of course you do, that’s all you ever want.”

I dramatically gasped and put my hand over my heart, “Mother! That is not true! How could you say such a thing!”

She then rolled her eyes and smiled, “Is your brother up?”

“I think so, it sounded like he was getting ready when I was in the bathroom.”

“Could you double-check for me, I don’t want you two to be late on your first day back.”

“Sorry, no can do. Lydia texted, she just pulled up.” I then headed out the door and shouted a quick goodbye and I love you to my mother.

*_*_*_*_*_*

When Lydia and I arrived at the school we were talking about the classes we had together and what we were looking forward to for the coming year. 

“Hey, Lydia! You look--” I glanced to the side, recognizing the voice, and rolled my eyes seeing Stiles call for my best friend. I admired his persistence but wished he would stop trying, knowing that he was just embarrassing himself. Lydia and I continued walking and stopped by our lockers that were right next to each other.

Someone came up behind me and grabbed my waist as I let out a shriek. 

“I told you to stop doing that!” I said turning around and slapping the arm of the culprit.

“Sorry babe,” my boyfriend, Nate, replied with a smirk then pressed a quick kiss to my lips.

Nate and I have been together for a little over a year and we have been in the same friend group since I can remember. He was my first everything/ First boyfriend, first kiss, first time, and first love. I honestly don’t remember a time when I didn’t have him, Lydia, Lydia’s boyfriend Jackson, and Jackson’s best friend Danny by my side.

I shook my head but smiled quickly shutting my locker, then turned to Lydia, “See you after first period!”

She gave me a bright smile and a nod then turned walking away, probably to find Jackson. Nate then grabbed my hand and walked with me to our first class, History.

History dragged by with the only interesting thing being that the teacher brought up the body in the wood before class began.

After class Nate and I met up with Lydia who Immediately grabbed my hand and dragged us over to a girl I didn’t recognize. “This jacket is totally killer. Where did you get it?” Lydia asks bringing the girl’s attention to the three of us.

“My mom was a buyer from a boutique back in San Francisco.”

Lydia glanced at me then smiled at the new girl, “And you are our new best friend.”

I quickly smiled and stuck my hand out, “(Y/N) McCall, that’s Lydia Martin. A pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, I’m Allison Argent.” She smiled back and shook my hand. I saw Allison glance behind us so I turned my head just in time to see Jackson grab Lydia’s waist and kiss her.

“So, this weekend, there’s a party...” Lydia quickly invited Allison.

“Friday night, you should come,” Jackson continued.

“Oh, I can’t, it’s family night on Friday... But thanks for asking.” Allison quickly declined. Little known fact about me, I can easily pick up when someone is lying and without a doubt in my mind I knew Allison was lying. I do have to give her credit though, she said the lie so fast that it was very believable for the others around me.

“You sure? Everyone’s going after the game.” ate joined into the conversation, his arm casually slung over my shoulders.

“You mean football?”

“No, football here is kinda a joke. He’s talking about lacrosse.” I said, “They have practice in a few minutes. If you don’t have anything else to do Lydia and I were going to watch.”

“Well, I was going to...”

“Perfect! You’ll come!” Lydia exclaimed before Allison could complete the sentence.

*_*_*_*_*_*

As soon as we got to the field Lydia, Allison, and I found a seat on the bleachers. I looked towards the field so that I could find Nate, Scott, and Stiles. I quickly found all three but frowned when I saw Scott making his way to the goal. “He’s never played goal before, why is he starting now?” I quietly mumbled.

I then heard Allison ask Lydia, “Who is that?”

“Him? That’s Scott, (Y/N) twin. Why?”

“He’s in my English class, first period.”

The whistle blows, letting everyone know that practice has begun and Scott immediately  takes a ball to the head. I winced and crossed y fingers hoping that he would start actually stopping balls, and not with his face. The next few shots turned out a lot better. Scott was stopping every ball that came his way and to be honest, I was quite surprised by how well he was doing.

I couldn’t help the wide smile that was on my face as he was catching the balls. “He seems pretty good,” Allison says after a little bit.

“He’s been practicing all summer,” I smiled at her.

I could tell that Jackson and Nate were both getting annoyed. They were the two best players on the team and watching Scott outshine them made them angry. Jackson quickly pushed his way to the front to take a shot and try to scare my brother. I rolled my eyes and waited in anticipation. Scott easily blocked the shot and I jumped out of my seat, “Woohoo, Scott!” He looked my way and sent me a big smile.

*_*_*_*_*_*

When school ended Nate walked me out of the building, “Are you coming to my house?”

“Sorry, I can’t. I promised my brother I would help him with something.” I gave him a quick kiss, “I’ll call you later.”

I headed to Stiles’ jeep where the two dorks were waiting for me. “I don’t know why you are dating him,” Stiles groaned as soon as I was sitting in the back seat.

I rolled my eyes and started changing my shoes to my black vans, “Good thing you don’t need to know why since you aren’t in the relationship.”

“Stiles has a point (Y/N), Nate’s kinda an asshole.”

“Jackson is kinda an asshole. Nate is sweet, I know he doesn’t really get along with you guys but he’s working on it. I’m making him.”

Soon we were at the Beacon Hills Preserve, where Scott lost his inhaler and apparently got bit by a wolf. The boys caught me up in the car about what happened last night. And yes, I became the usual protective sister when he said a wolf bit him.

Once I was caught up we were trekking through the woods I tuned out the boys so I could focus on searching for Scott’s inhaler. Those things are expensive and mom does not have the money to replace it. When I finally decided to listen to the conversation I wasn’t sure if I herd them correctly. “You smell things?” Like what?” Stiles was asking Scott.

“Like the mint gum in your pocket.”

Stiles started to reach into his pocket while mumbling that he didn’t have gum in his pocket, only to pull his hand out with a piece of mint gum. Stiles and I both looked shocked that Scott guessed that correctly. “So, this all started with the bite?” I questioned my twin.

“What if it’s like an infection? Like... my body is full of adrenaline before I go into shock or something.” Scott was starting to panic.

Before I could try and calm him down Stiles replied, “You know what, I actually think I heard of this, it’s a specific kind of infection.”

Scott and I both gave Stiles a questioning glance waiting for him to continue. “Yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.”

I smirked and shook my head as Stiles continued, “It’s pretty bad but only once a month.”

“Once a month?” Scott was now looking between Stiles and myself.

I nodded my head agreeing with Stiles, “Yeah, I’ve heard of this too. It’s only bad on the night of the full moon.” Stiles and I then shared a knowing glance and both started to howl. Our howls got cut short as Scott hit our arms and the two of us started laughing.

“It’s not funny, there is something seriously wrong with me!”

“We know! You’re a werewolf!” I exclaimed with a huge smile on my face. If look could kill, I would be dead because of the intense glare Scott gave me. “Friday is a full moon, Stiles make sure you keep an eye on him and melt all the silver you can find.” I winked at my brother’s best friend. Stiles tried to hide his snickers behind his hand but failed horribly as Scott walked away from us continuing his search for his missing inhaler. 

Once we reached a specific spot Scott sighed, “I could have sworn it was there. I saw the body, the stags running, and I dropped my inhaler.”

“Maybe the killer moved the body,” Stiles suggested with a shrug.

“Or we’re just in the wrong spot, it was dark maybe you just remembered wrong.” I then looked up and saw a very attractive gentleman watching us. I coughed to get the boy’s attention.

“What are you doing here? This is private property.” The mystery man had a gruff voice as he spoke to the three of us. He seemed ticked off that we were here but it’s not my fault my idiot brother lost his inhaler.

“Sorry man, we didn’t know,” Stiles replied quickly, he seemed a little nervous. The guy in front of us did seem sort of intimidating but I was too busy checking him out to worry about that. What? I may be in a relationship but I can still look. 

“Yeah we were just looking for something, forget it.” Scott continued when Stiles finished. The attractive mystery man tossed Scot his inhaler than turned around walking away.

“Dude, that was Derek Hale! You guys remember, right? He’s just a few years older than us.” Stiles said as soon as Derek was out of earshot.

Scott still looked clueless but the name Hale sounded familiar to me, “Wait, you mean like the Hale fire?”

“That’s the one. It happened like 10 years ago. He lost almost all of his family.”

“I feel sorry for him, I can’t imagine what that must have been like.” I bit my lip and shook my head as I stared off in the direction that he went in.

We quickly made our way back to the jeep, Stiles dropped Scott off at work then quickly brought me back to my house.

*_*_*_*_*_*

The next morning I got dressed in a short sleeve, cold-shoulder, black crop top, high waisted gray and black plaid pants, and black heels. Yes, I wore more black, that is pretty much all that is in my wardrobe and Lydia hates it. Lydia and I once again drove to school together and stopped at our lockers before first period. The minute first period ended Scott pulled me away from Nate to talk to me. “What’s up?”

“Your boyfriend and Jackass think I’m on steroids.” Scott deadpanned. 

My eyes almost bulged out of my head, “What? Why?”

“I don’t know, probably because I suddenly got a hell of a lot better at lacrosse.”

I sighed, “I’ll talk to them, sorry they’re both idiots.” I turned and walked away starting my search for Nate and Jackson. Nate may be my boyfriend and Jackson may be one of my best friends but sometimes I seriously can’t stand them.

I soon found them already on the field preparing for practice. “Hey jackasses!” I stopped in front of them. They both gave me questioning looks and glanced at each other probably wondering why I was mad at them. “My brother isn’t doing drugs. He’s been practicing nonstop this summer so he could get better and make first line. I get that you two are so egotistical that you can’t let anyone one-up you but do not start making false accusations about my brother.” Before they could get a word in I stormed off looking to find Lydia knowing that she always helps calm me down.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I was at Lydia’s house getting ready for the party with her. This is our party ritual, go home together and help each other get ready for a kickass part all while gossiping about things going on in our lives.

After telling Lydia about the argument I had with Nate she claimed that I needed to look hotter than usual so he would regret ever making me mad. This right here, ladies and gentleman, is the exact reason why I love Lydia Martin more than anyone. Working together we picked out a patterned black and white strapless dress with a gold belt that hugged my waist. The dress perfectly showed off my curves and adding a pair of black pumps completed the outfit. 

Not too much later the party was in full swing. Pretty much the whole school was there, which is not surprising for a Lydia party. Stiles pulled me to the side as soon as he saw me, “Have you seen Scott?”

“No why?” Stiles glanced nervously around then pulled me into the laundry room so we could be alone.

“That werewolf joke, not a joke anymore,” he whispers. My eyes widen and I start giggling. “It’s not funny (Y/N)! I know it sounds crazy but I’ve been doing a bunch of research, it’s the only thing that makes even the slightest bit of sense.”

“Okay, well we will keep an eye on him. I’m sure he’ll be fine. But if this happens to be true, we will figure something out. Don’t stress though, Stilinski. We are at a party, come dance with me.” I tugged on his hand and led him out of the room and into the back yard so that we could dance together. As soon as we stepped outside we spotted Allison and Scott so this also gave is a good view to keep an eye on my twin.

Soon after Nate walked up to us with a clenched jaw, “Mind if I step in, Stilinski?”

“She’s all yours,” Stiles sent me an awkward smile and stepped away, making sure to stay close so he could step in if Nate did something that would make me uncomfortable and still keep an eye on Scott.

“We need to talk.” I sighed and was about to follow him until I saw Scott rush out.

“I need to make sure my brother is alright, we can talk later.”

Before I could walk away Stiles rushed past, “I got him, don’t worry.”

Nate then gently tugged on my hand, “Come on.” As soon as we were somewhere quiet Nate started speaking, “I’m sorry I can be an asshole and I accused your brother of doing drugs.” I stared blankly waiting for him to continue. He threw his head back then slowly looked into my eyes, “I won’t do anything like that again, I promise. I love you, (Y/N/N).”

I bit my lip then slowly leaned up to kiss him, “I love you too.” I mumbled against his lips.

[justlightlysedated]

sugar and spice and everything nice

Michael looks down at the address written on the paper in his hands and sees the name of the bakery written in Isobel's loopy handwriting, and then looks back out of his windshield at the shop he's parked in front of. 

It's nestled between a bookshop and a coffee shop, arguably the best place to be if you're a bakery, especially with the name, Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice.

But the display in front of the window looks like it came out of a spread for the fictional magazine, Witches Brew Weekly, and Michael wonders exactly what kind of cake Isobel had made here.

He also wonders exactly why she's throwing a Happy Divorce Party, but sometimes it's better to not understand the workings of his sister's mind. He goes crazy trying to figure her out on a daily basis.

Michael inhales deeply, and tells himself that looks can be deceiving, prime example being himself and how people react when he tells them that he owns his own flower shop and studied horticulture in college.

He grabs his cowboy hat from where he'd set it on the passenger seat and puts it over his head as he gets out of his truck.

Michael walks towards the bakery, eyeing the display with some more interest as he gets closer.

The spiders crawling all over the cupcakes look too real and are creeping him out a little bit, but there is something oddly charming about the three tiered cake depicting the beheading of Anne Boleyn.

Michael walks in through the door, and jumps a little when there is a creepy haunted mansion style doorbell ringing through the room announcing his presence.

He bites down on the smile that wants to pull at his lips and looks around the place.

The color scheme is all dark, mostly black and white but with dark red and dark purple accents. There are three display cases practically caging in the six small tables with two chairs each, made up of glossy purple wood and black glass panelling one with normal looking breakfast pastries and muffins, the other with a different kinds of cupcakes each depicting a Summer yet halloween based theme, like two ghosts snorkeling or a skeleton tanning, and the last, right in front of double doors that Michael is sure lead to the kitchen with a register perched on top and a few baskets full of what looks like freshly baked bread, and underneath on display through the glass beneath a sign that says, Our Specialty One of a Kind Divorce Cakes, No Two Cakes Will Ever Be the Same, We Guarantee, are an array of cakes that could pass for wedding cakes if it weren't for the terrifying scenarios being depicted.

Before Michael can get any closer to see what he can make out beside the one where it looks like a tiny fondant bride is tossing her tiny fondant husband into a wood chipper, the double doors opens, and a young woman with long dark hair held away from her face by a black visor with the name of the bakery and the skull and crossbones design that is at the front of the store stitched with holographic silver thread on the rim. She's wearing a black apron with the name Rosa stitched in the front with the same holographic silver thread over an outfit that wouldn't be out of place in the middle of a mosh pit. She's carrying a tray of what looks like caramel apples with a little sign that says, If you spend more than 20$ you get me for free! and looks up, mouth open like she's about to say something and she stops, giving him a very obvious once over, before making a face at the cowboy hat.

She still smiles, bright and wide and a little flirty, red lips coming off more like a warning than a beacon, and sets the tray down in the space between the register and the first basket of bread.

"Well, hello there," she says, as she leans against the counter. "Welcome to Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice, where we make all of your not so sweet dreams come true. What can I do for you?"

Michael blinks at her, "Shouldn't it be sweet dreams?"

Rosa's grin turns all teeth and predatory, "If you're in them, then sure."

Michael just smiles shaking his head a little before he tugs out the paper that Isobel had given him.

"I'm here to pick up an order," he says and hands over the paper.

Rosa takes it and reads it quickly before making a face, kind of like the one she made when she saw his hat.

She walks to the double doors and pushes open one of them yelling, "Someone's here to pick up the Ice Queen's order!"

Michael would protest the use of the nickname but he knows it's probably something that Isobel would like.

There is a startled yelp, and then the sound of something metal clattering to the floor, before someone is cursing low and fervently.

Rosa just lets the door fall close and turns back to Michael, "The Chef will be right with you."

Michael nods his head and casts a look around the shop and his gaze is caught by the window display again.

"You design all of these?" He asks looking back at Rosa. She has that air about her that tells him that she's artistic, but she shakes her head.

"No," she says sounding amused. "Most of the designs are Alex's, except for the spider collection. Alex mostly keeps me around because I'm much better at customer service than he is."

"Which really isn't saying much," a dry voice says from the double doors.

Michael turns towards the newcomer and feels almost like he's been hit across the back of the head with a baseball bat.

While he blinks dazed and confused, it's almost like everything is moving in slow motion.

The vision stands for several still seconds right in front of the door, being illuminated by the light coming from the kitchen, making his messy hair that is sticking up all over the place, kind of glow golden like he has a halo. He's wearing the same visor and apron as Rosa, but his apron is covered in flour and butter and chocolate and what looks like food coloring. Alex is stitched in the upper right corner of his apron in a rainbow colored thread.

That combined with the dark, dark eyes that seemed like they could swallow Michael whole and he would enjoy every minute of it, and the luscious full mouth, that purses into an annoyed expression the longer that Michael stares at him, makes him consider the warmth jolt in his stomach with the utmost seriousness.

He turns to Rosa to say something, turning his back to Michael and Michael's gaze drops right to check out his ass, and it's almost too good to be true.

Michael feels the hot bolt of attraction and the gooey warmth in his stomach combine to conspire against him.

He has the brief and totally insane thought of what flowers they'll have at their wedding and if they would be in season, before he snaps himself out of it and looks into Alex's narrowed pissed eyes and realizes that maybe the whole slow motion thing had been in his head and smiles as apologetic and charming as he can.

"So sorry," he says. "I kind of spaced there for a second. What were you saying?"

His eyes dart over to Rosa who looks entirely too amused, so he probably hasn't fucked up beyond repair.

Not that there is anything to fuck up.

Alex clears his throat pointedly, and Michael looks over to him immediately. 

Alex's brow is still furrowed, but he seems to be more confused than angry.

He inhales deeply like he's steeling himself and then moves to the side and Michael sees that while he'd been busy committing Alex to memory, they'd brought out a rolling stand with a huge open white cake box, the name and logo of the bakery stamped on the side, the cover is propped open so that the cake fits and there is what looks like a black veil covering the cake from view, and Michael's curiosity peaks, overwhelming the stupefying feeling of attraction, and he leans forward, on the only empty space on top of the counter.

Alex's brow furrows even more, but he just takes a deep breath and lifts the veil over the cake.

Michael has a moment where he thinks that he's been transported to a gallery, because what Alex unveils could very easily be mistaken for a painting.

"Isobel wants you to take a picture even though I already uploaded the time lapse video on the shop's Instagram-"

"Is that a replica of Judith beheading Holofernes but with my sister?" Michael interrupts him leaning even closer, trying to get as close a look as possible.

The cake is three tiered and covered in white icing, with a pillow and pearl buttons design, that Michael remembers from the wedding cake that Isobel had when she married Noah, five years ago, seemingly bursting out of the cake, is the bloody scene, depicted in some kind of frosting or fondant, tiny Isobel with her knee right on tiny Noah's chest, one hand in his hair, holding his head at an angle that exposes his neck and the other holding the hilt of the sword, as she slices through. There is realistic looking blood, and Isobel and Noah are very recognizable, and it's literally the most amazing thing that Michael has ever seen in his life.

He looks up at Alex, who blinks twice at him before speaking.

"Yes," he says shortly, bordering on defensive. "I talked with your sister and she told me her story while I sketched out some ideas, and afterwards she chose her favorite."

Michael just exhales and wonders if it would be creepy to tell someone that he just met that he thinks he's in love with him.

"It's one of the most-" Michael starts and stops looking for a word to say, and Alex just sighs, like he's tired and cuts him off.

"Disturbing things you've ever seen?" He says, a little mockingly making air quotes and rolling his eyes.

Michael's complete attention focuses on Alex's fingers, long and pale and strong and covered in rings silver and black, and several bandages.

Michael stares obviously enough that Alex fidgets a little, looking at his hands and scoffing.

"Don't worry," he says dead pan. "It's not my blood. I only save the blood sacrifices for when I'm making pastry."

Michael laughs, a startled burst of giggles that he can't seem to really control, and Alex freezes completely on the other side of the counter, not moving, barely even breathing.

"I was actually going to say, it's one of the most amazing things I've ever seen in my life," Michael says and sincerely as he can.

Alex just stares at Michael with wide eyes, and he looks a little panicked and like he really needs to bail the scene, but as he turns to Rosa, Rosa turns away, heading towards the entrance.

"I'm taking my fifteen minute break," she says.

Alex opens his mouth, and Rosa cuts him off as she pulls her phone out of her pocket.

"Yes, I'll get you the French vanilla iced latte."

He makes another attempt to say something, but the doorbell rings out again, and this time Michael lets  the smile take over his face.

When he turns back to look at Alex, Alex is staring at him with a furrowed brow.

Michael licks his lips, but before he can say anything, Alex is speaking.

"The amount pending is 60$," he says, and moves towards the register, pulling a receipt notebook from a pocket hanging beside the register and starts to write out the receipt.

Michael pulls out the money that Isobel had given him, the amount due plus a large tip.

Michael leaves the money on the counter, and pulls his phone out of his pocket to take a picture of the cake.

He sends it to Isobel and she immediately responds with a bunch of excited and happy emojis, and a text demanding that he hurry up and get back to her place.

Michael slides his phone back in his pocket without answering her, and turns to Alex who is counting the money and putting it inside of the register before he tears Michael's copy of the receipt off the notebook and hands it to him.

Michael takes the receipt and before Alex can say anything else, his eyes fall on the caramel apples with the sign that Rosa had set down earlier.

"Does that mean I get one of those?" He asks pointing at the apples.

Alex purses his mouth and gives him a look.

Before he sighs and looks down at the apples.

"I like experimenting with flavors in my baking and sometimes it works really well, but most of the time it's a disaster. I still test them out on customers to see if they like them."

Michael nods his head slowly, "So the apple is the experiment you're testing today?"

Alex smiles, a quick brief thing that Michael almost misses, before he grabs one of the plastic cake knives from a jar full of them, and a small white ceramic plate.

He lifts one of the apples on to the plate, using the side of the knife, and then sets the plate down in front of Michael.

He takes the knife and places the edge right by the wooden stick.

He pushes the knife down, and Michael expects resistance, so he's surprised when the plastic knife just falls straight through, cutting the apple in half easily, only a slight crunch towards the bottom.

He parts the two halves and pushes one aside and then starts to speak again.

Michael looks away from the interesting layers of mousse and jelly and cookie, and looks at Alex and then can't find himself able to look away.

"It's a dark chocolate mousse sitting on top of a layer of hot mint jelly and a shortbread cookie infused with jalapeños and lime, shaped into a sphere and covered in a shiny red mirror glaze," he says, pointing out every layer with a finger, and looking so animated that he almost seemed like a different person.

"I'm calling it the Poison Apple. The idea behind the flavors is that they'll balance each other out, and I really like a little bit of heat in my desserts, something that I became fond of when I was overseas. But it's not exactly everyone's cup of tea."

He looks up straight into Michael's eyes and stops talking.

Michael licks his lips and looks down at the dessert. 

"That actually sounds awesome," he says honestly, before he looks back up at Alex who flinches a little like he got caught doing something he shouldn't.

Michael just smiles as reassuringly as possible and asks, "Can I have a fork?"

Alex stares at him for another long moment before he reaches down beneath the counter and pulls out a silver fork, and hands it over to Michael, who takes it smiling at Alex, who continues to look at Michael suspiciously like he's expecting something bad to happen at any moment.

Michael just pulls the plate closer and tries a forkful, making sure to get a little bit of everything, and he barely hesitates as he takes the bite. 

The flavors explode on Michael's tongue one after the other starting with the slightly bitter chocolate and then a sharp burst of lemon and the heat coming from the shortbread before there is a soothing coolness coming from the jelly, and Michael doesn't really understand it and he never in a million years would've thought that the flavors would go together, but it actually works.

"Wow," he says and looks at Alex who is just blinking at him like Michael is being confusing. "It's amazing."

He can't help but sound awed. He hadn't really expected it to taste as good as it did, and he wonders how much of it is due to the fact that Alex was the one who made it.

Michael eats most of the case, knowing he's making the most ridiculous faces, but every time it hits him different.

Alex just continues to stare at him, gaze intense, and Michael finds that he really likes it.

He looks up at Alex then, and Alex is licking across his bottom lip, and Michael feels a pulse of heat go straight down the back of his neck, and he doesn't think that he's ever wanted anyone the way that he wants him, right now, but he also doesn't think that he's wanted to keep someone as much as well.

Before Michael can make any decision, Rosa is moving behind the counter, and Michael's gaze falls on her, and he wonders how long she'd been watching.

The knowing smirk on her face tells him that it was long enough.

Alex jumps back, startled and he looks from Michael to Rosa before he grabs the coffee in her hands and walks straight through the double doors not even looking back.

Michael sets the fork down slowly and he looks at Rosa, who gives him a sympathetic smile, before she motions towards the cake with her chin. "Need some help with that?"

Michael nods his head, and Rosa covers the cake back up.

Together they get it secure to the back of the truck and Michael promises that he'll drive slow.

Rosa turns to walk towards the bakery and then she turns back to Michael.

"Look," she says, a protective edge to her voice."You seem like a nice guy, and you obviously speak Alex, but Alex has been through a lot, and if you're just messing with him-"

"I like him," Michael blurts out, and rubs the back of his neck when Rosa looks at him, feeling a little embarrassed as he looks away from her. "I like him a lot. It actually feels a little insane how much."

"Good," she says and Michael's gaze snaps back to her.

"You gotta be a little insane to try and date Alex," she says, shrugging a little as she turns back towards the bakery. "He's really fucking weird."

And with that and a cheerful see you soon that she shouts from the open doorway, almost getting drowned out by the doorbell.

Michael shakes his head and gets into his car.

Something crinkles as he sits and he pulls the piece of paper from beneath his thigh and looks at the address for the bakery.

He's almost completely sure that he'll remember the way to get back here even without an address, but he pulls his phone out and saves the address in his contacts. 

A pop up appears asking him if he wants to add sugarandspice on instagram, and he clicks yes, and starts the truck.

His phone buzzes with a notification and he smiles when he sees rosa.zombie. is now following you.

He pulls away from the curb and finds his head full of thoughts that are entirely premature, but he can't exactly help himself. 

He wonders if Alex will accept edible flowers and potted herbs in exchange for taste testing more of his flavor experiments.

*

The picture posted on Rosa's instagram before seven in the morning is of Michael eating one of the mousse cakes disguised as a caramel apple with a rapturous look on his face, and Alex is staring at him like he's confused and absolutely flabbergasted.

The caption for the picture is:

rosa.zombie. he is eating one of @manelydead's super special recipes. obviously, he's an alien.

Followed by the following comment thread almost immediately after posting:

lizziethestrange HOLYSHIT!!!

delucastyle holy shit

valentimcsexy hoLY SHIT

iamcamiam holy shit

manelydead Don't any of you assholes sleep in???

guerinsflowers @manelydead 😉😉😉

intergalacticbitch @guerinsflowers you fucking better not!