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carav4l · 9 months

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Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Summary: After the first Quidditch match of the year, Y/N founds herself in the wrong side of the bar at the club she works at. And she’s not specially happy about it. However, Theo Nott is even more pissed, and he has all the rights to be.

Warnings: violence (not developed, but a fight does take place), swearing.

Before you read: this piece is set in a CollegeAU! English is not my first language, so please take that into consideration and be nice. Also, the whole piece is written in third POV because it’s the one I’m more comfortable with. Reader’s house isn’t specified, but definitely isn’t Slytherin or Gryffindor for the plot’s sake.

Y/N had to cover for one of her colleagues that night, Aubrey, who was feeling unwell after accidentally tasting some unfinished potion they had been working on that morning’s class. So, much to her regret, Y/N had to experience the post-season party from behind the bar at the Witch’s Hour Nightclub. Y/N wasn't the biggest fan of Quidditch by any means, but she did love everything that came with it at the castle: the colorful stands, skipping classes to watch the other’s houses games, the tension during the match, and above all, the celebrations that followed.

"Can I have two strawberry daiquiris, please?"

Ginny Weasley's words were met with a nod from Y/N, who smiled hoping to conceal her frustration. As she prepared the drinks, she glimpsed her group of friends amidst the dance floor frenzy. Just about ten minutes ago, they had all been keeping her company, sympathizing with her bad luck until Y/N urged them to enjoy the night on her behalf, and they had moved towards the dance floor to never come back. With all honesty, Y/N didn’t blame them for doing so.

Once the daiquiris were ready, Y/N placed them in front of the redhead without a word, her forced smile still in place. After paying for her order, the Gryffindor left the bar to join Luna Lovegood on the other side of the room.

Y/N barely had time to stash the money in the cash register before another group of girls shouted their order at her, noticeably less politely than Ginny. Y/N found herself close, very close, to spitting on the three Sex on the Beach cocktails in front of her. She couldn't stand how people could seem to lose their manners with the slightest bit of alcohol in their system. It didn't take her long to realize that, when it came to those girls, the unjustified attitude was because it had been Y/N who had taken their order, not the curly-haired guy going back and forth behind her.

Theodore Nott seemed considerably more annoyed about working that night than Y/N. And rightfully so, given his position as chaser on the Slytherin team, which had also happened to lose the game that day. Well, if Y/N was in a bad mood, Theo seemed ready to hex anyone who entered his line of sight at any moment.

Y/N took the wad of bills the group left, or rather slammed on the counter, and turned to head back to the register. This time however, she ended up colliding with something herself, most specifically her coworker's chest. The boy’s hands shot to her waist to prevent her from falling, and Y/N felt the exposed skin between her black crop top and low-rise sequin miniskirt burn. She unconsciously grabbed onto Theo's forearm, her chest constricted by the sudden scare.

"Hey angel, seems like you really tripped over me there," he said with a grin once Y/N steadied herself, not even making an attempt to let her go. In fact, she felt like he was tracing circles on her hip with his thumb. Y/N became acutely aware of the places where Theo's skin touched hers. "You good?"

She lifted her gaze to his watercolor eyes and cursed herself for the effect they, and the boy himself, seemed to have on her. It was utterly stupid, as everyone knew that Theodore Nott wasn't available and didn't seem like he would ever be. The boy seemed way above any one-night stand or anything as trivial as college relationships. Y/N believed she could count on one hand all the girls she knew he had been involved with. In some way, she respected him for that.

"Yeah, sorry," she apologized with flushed cheeks, silently grateful for the dim lighting of the venue. "It's just that tonight's been a mess and I'm a bit distracted."

Her words got lost in the music resonating through the speakers. Theo put a finger to his ear to signal that he hadn't heard anything, then buried his hand in Y/N's hair and gently brought their faces closer. Y/N repeated her response, earning a nod and a guttural sound of agreement.

"Tell me about it," Theo sighed then, pulling his face back just enough for their eyes to lock. They were so close that their noses almost brushed.

"I still don't quite get why you're working tonight, to be honest. I thought there was an unwritten rule that said Quidditch players didn't have to work on match days."

"Well, let's just say dear boss couldn’t seem to care less about that rule," the guy said, giving a sidelong glance at Philippa Harvey, a rather ill-tempered Ravenclaw who happened to be the club's manager. She was on the good side of the bar, dancing suggestively with a guy Y/N couldn't quite place. "Let's say she made me an indecent proposal, and I turned her down. And voilà, here I am."

A pang of something close to jealousy reluctantly settled in Y/N's stomach. It's not like she had any right to feel that way, anyway. She opened her mouth to express how sorry she felt for him, both for Slytherin's defeat and the fact that Philippa had finished screwing the night for him, but the sound of someone banging on the counter forcefully stole her opportunity.

"Hey, you two! Less groping and more pouring drinks."

It was a Gryffindor from the Quidditch team, tall and big, with a rather ordinary face. Y/N assumed that's why she couldn't remember his name. In any case, he seemed pretty drunk to her.

After trailing her cheek with his thumb one last time, Theo let go of her and with the distasteful expression he had worn all night back in place, told Y/N that he would handle it. She sighed and resumed the task of putting away the money in the cash register. Once done, she walked over to where Theo was serving the Gryffindor big guy to attend another one who had just arrived at the bar.

As she was about to start making a gin and tonic for him, a shot glass was placed right in front of her. Y/N raised an eyebrow at Theo, and he just shrugged in response. "It's going to be a long night," he seemed to convey with the gesture. "We might as well make it as enjoyable as possible." She agreed, so she took the shot and brought it to her lips without hesitation. Theo did the same with his own shot, never taking his eyes off her, and Y/N wasn't sure if the rush of heat that swept through her body was due to the alcohol or his gaze.

"Have another one on me, Nott," the Gryffindor guy interrupted them again, placing another pair of bills on top of those already on the counter. "And another for your gorgeous coworker. It sucks that you have to be the one serving drinks after how we beat the shit out of you guys this afternoon, don't you think?"

Theo clenched his fist around the glass, his knuckles turning white. Lips pressed into a stern line, he continued preparing the jerk's drink without looking up from his task. Y/N continued hers, not taking her eyes off the scene unfolding by her side.

"I also think it sucks that such a pretty girl like you has to be on that side of the bar," the Gryffindor guy persisted, unabated. Y/N looked at him out of the corner of her eye, still working, grabbing a bottle of gin from under the bar and pouring it into the glass in front of her. "When you get a break, you could look me up. We Gryffindors know how to show a girl a good time."

Disgusted, Y/N opened her mouth to tell him that she'd rather get eaten by a basilisk than to let him lay a finger on her, but someone beat her to it.

"Don't you even think about talking to her," snapped Theo, slamming the drink down in front of the Gryffindor with such force that Y/N thought the glass might shatter. "In fact, don't ever look at her again."

Y/N was taken aback by such words. She glanced at Theo with a racing heart, but he didn't return the look because his gaze was fixed on the idiot. The latter laughed brazenly.

"And what are you gonna do about it?"

Y/N saw a glint of anger in Theo's watercolor eyes, so she hurried to slip under the boy's arm resting on the counter and interpose herself between him and the Gryffindor. For a moment, Theo ignored her and continued to glare at the rival idiot. With a slightly trembling hand, Y/N grabbed his face by the jaw and forced their gazes to meet. If he had taken her that intimately before, he shouldn't mind her doing the same, right?

"Theo," she called him. He however, not willing to give in attempted to turn his face again. "Theo, just leave it. It's not worth it."

Y/N felt Theo's grip on his jaw tighten even more, but he nodded imperceptibly anyway.

"Fine."

"Yeah, Nott, listen to your little whore."

In the blink of an eye, Theo had jumped over the counter and landed a solid left hook on the round-faced Gryffindor. Y/N gasped in surprise at the sight. The Slytherin boy wasn't particularly known for getting into fights, not even when they happened during a match and the rest of his team and some of his friends were involved. That was more typical of Mattheo Riddle, or Lorenzo Berkshire. By Merlin, even Malfoy could be more prone to fights than Theo.

But there he was, straddling a guy who was a head taller and twice his size, punching him repeatedly in the face. Y/N figured the only reason Theo barely had gotten a scratch on his cheek was that, as she had suspected earlier, the Gryffindor was quite drunk. For a moment, Y/N just stood there, doing nothing but watching the spectacle unfold before her eyes, as if in a trance that prevented her from looking away. It didn't last too long luckily, and once she managed to move, she went straight to the dance floor, heading for the area where she thought she had spotted Theo's group of friends over an hour ago.

If it hadn't been for Draco Malfoy's bleached blond hair, Y/N didn't think she would have found them in the mass of dancing bodies. Pushing any insecurities the group might make her feel deep down, Y/N grabbed the wrist of the person who was closest to her and shook them hard enough to get their attention. Mattheo Riddle's dark eyes met hers shortly after, giving her an unfriendly once-over from head to toe. The guy didn't even bother to speak, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Hmm... I'm Y/N Y/L/N," she introduced herself awkwardly, trying not to dwell on it for too long. "I work here with Theo. This is actually about him. He's fighting with a Gryffindor idiot, and I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it, but the guy is like twice his size, and I can't separate them."

Surprise transformed Mattheo's face, which only confirmed the belief that Theo and fighting didn't usually appear in the same sentence. He turned to his friends to convey the message, and they all hurriedly followed Y/N to the bar where Theo was still straddling the Gryffindor, as if Y/N had never left. In less than a second, Mattheo and Blaise had each of Theo's arms and were leading him out of the club, followed by Lorenzo, Draco, and Pansy.

Once again, Y/N stood still, not quite sure how to proceed. One thing was clear though: she definitely didn't want to be near the idiot once he woke up, or when his friends showed up and looked for someone to blame. Y/N approached the bar again to inform her only other coworker, a girl from her house with whom she maintained a friendly relationship of greetings and pleasant smiles in the corridors, that she was going to make sure Theo was okay. The girl nodded, and without further ado, Y/N headed for the back exit of the Witch's Hour, reserved only for staff and, on this occasion, Theo's friends.

Outside in the dimly lit alley, she found the curly-haired boy sitting on an old wooden crate, with Pansy Parkinson crouched in front of him at a distance that, for some reason she couldn’t wrap around her finger, seemed too short to Y/N. Pansy seemed to be giving him a quiet scolding even though there was no one else there but the two of them and their other four friends, standing prudently apart. Theo had his gaze fixed on the ground, and although Y/N couldn't see his eyes because of his bangs, she noticed that his jaw was clenched once again.

Y/N approached cautiously the rest of the group. The smell of tobacco from Mattheo and Lorenzo's cigarettes wafted into her nose, causing her to wrinkle her nose in distaste. Blaise was the first to notice her presence.

"You didn't need to come out," he spoke in a calm tone, giving her a friendly smile. Y/N shrugged and returned the smile timidly.

"Blaise’s right," Lorenzo chimed in between drags of his cigarette. The contrast between his boyish face and the action itself shocked Y/N. "Pansy knows how to handle him."

Y/N made an affirmative sound before giving a proper response. Why had she come out, anyway? The answer briefly crossed her mind, but she couldn't even process it correctly, let alone speak it out loud. She decided to go for the most obvious excuse.

"I just wanted to make sure he's okay. After all, this happened because..."

"I don’t fucking care, Theodore!" Pansy's shout cut her off mid-sentence. The five turned their heads toward them. Pansy had stood up and was pointing an accusing finger at Theo. "You're supposed to be the smart one in the group. You shouldn't stoop to this crap."

"Ouch," Mattheo whimpered, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Don't play the victim, Riddle," Draco said, leaning against the alley wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "She hasn't said anything that isn't true."

"It's still pretty uncalled for on her part."

The conversation died there, unlike the ongoing one between Pansy and Theo. Y/N decided to wait until Theo's friends went back inside the club to talk to him alone about what had happened. She didn't feel up to doing it with all those strangers watching her from the other side of the alley, and there was no need to create such a scene.

The night was strangely cool for the time of year they were in, and considering how lightly she was dressed, Y/N began to shiver slightly. Thanks to Merlin, only a couple more minutes passed before Pansy concluded her scolding and headed back to the club. Y/N couldn't quite grasp the look she shot her as she walked by. It wasn't a look of complete disdain, at least not entirely, but it lacked the warm smile Blaise had given her earlier.

"Ignore her," Blaise reassured, that same smile still on his face. Shifting his attention back to Y/N, he noticed her shivering and promptly took off his green and black Quidditch team bomber jacket to offer it to her. "Here, take it. Give it back to Theo, and he'll return it to me."

Y/N barely had any time to refuse, but was grateful that Blaise didn't give her the chance to as she truly could use some warmth. She slid her arms into the sleeves of the jacket, which was considerably larger than her, and involuntarily breathed in its scent: expensive cologne with hints of mint and chocolate. Y/N couldn't help but find it somewhat addictive.

Once alone in the alley, Y/N walked over to where Theo was still seated, head down and hands tangled in his hair.

"Hey," she managed to say.

After a significantly long sigh, Theo raised his gaze to meet hers. With a tired smile, he greeted her in a hushed voice.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhhm," Theo barely made a sound in response, unsure of what else to say.

There was an air of something new between them, and neither was quite sure how to proceed. Y/N raised her hand with the intention of cupping his face to see for herself if what the boy had said was true, but her hand stopped midway. She attempted to disguise the motion by placing her hand on her chest.

"Thanks for standing up for me," Y/N finally said, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

"Anytime," Theo murmured, his voice slightly huskier than usual. In a sudden surge of courage he took Y/N's hand in his and tugged it gently, bringing her closer to him. He played with her fingers as he spoke again. "I wish you hadn't had to see that, though."

"Let's just say you could have settled for threatening him or something," she excused him, downplaying it with a giggle that made the boy smile. "But I'm still grateful you did it."

Silence once again settled between them, but this time it felt more comforting in a way. For a few moments, they simply locked eyes, trying to find in each other's eyes all that they were feeling themselves. Y/N was genuinely surprised to find herself in this situation with none other than Theodore Nott. There had always been a sort of mutual understanding between them, a silent complicity they didn't share with any of their clubmates. But Y/N had always assumed it was a simple friendship, that Theo considered her a part of the short list of people he tolerated, and that was it.

However, under the dim light of the moon that night, it felt like much more to her.

"I think we should go back inside," Y/N said in a hushed voice, fearing that if she raised her tone too much, the magical moment would come to an end.

"We should, yeah," Theo agreed, but despite his words, made no attempt to go back inside. If anything, he pulled Y/N's hand a bit more until she was practically between his legs.

With his free hand, Theo cautiously cradled her face, as if unsure if she would pull away. On the contrary, Y/N tilted her head letting it rest in his hand, unable to believe that all these displays of affection were coming from him.

"Can I ask you something?" Theo's voice caught her slightly off guard, but she nodded all the same.

"Sure."

"Never wear Zabini's jacket again," his words caught her with a bit of surprise, and her cheeks turned an even rosier shade.

"Why? Are you going to lend me yours or something?" she joked, pushing a couple of strands of hair from Theo's face, using the excuse to touch him again.

Theo's gaze darkened a bit, and for a moment, Y/N cursed herself for choosing those words. Maybe they weren't at that point yet, right? Perhaps they hadn't reached the teasing phase, and her comment might had made Theo close up. It wouldn't surprise her coming from him.

Y/N didn't dare breathe again until Theo spoke, eyes filled with certainty.

"Consider it done."

Her heart raced, and seeing the smile that transformed her face into one of unexpected joy, his did too.

#theo nott x reader #theo nott #slytherin boys #theo nott imagine #theodore nott #blaise zabini #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #harry potter #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #harry potter imagine

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bettyfrommars · 2 months

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Ring of Fire

a biker Steve au

Part 1 || I went down, and the flames went higher

18+ONLY || afab!Reader, eventual smut, alcohol consumption, allusions to dirty deeds, smoking, allusions to sex with someone other than reader (not cheating), allusions to violence/fighting, bloody knuckles, eventual breaking & entering, biker!Eddie, biker!Hopper, reader and Steve are in their early 30's. Please read warning for each part.

masterlist playlist

Summary || You haven't set eyes on Steve Harrington since the 8th grade, but you have no problem recognizing him almost 20 years later when he steps back into your life. A lot has changed in Hawkeye, the town you grew up in, but a lot has stayed the same.

word count: 5k

A/N || This is my version of Hawkins, a town called Hawkeye, and it is a desert town surrounded by tumbleweeds, agriculture, and junkyards. Even though Steve is a biker and a mechanic, I try to maintain his "essence". I plan for this to be a shorter series, like 3 or 4 parts, but those are always famous last words from this lyin', cheatin' mouth. This is a niche fic, and for the ten people who will appreciate it, I love you.

The bell on the door dinged to let you know you had a customer, but you didn’t look up right away, you were too busy trying to figure out why your till was a few bucks short for the day. Donna would not be happy. Heavy foot falls made it to the counter and then the person in question cleared his throat.

“Ten on pump 2 and a pack of reds, please,” the voice was deep and scratchy, like he was recovering from a sore throat.

You closed the cash register and glanced up for the first time.

The sight made you inhale a sharp breath and hold it. The man had on a thick motorcycle jacket zipped up halfway over a white tee, atop blue jeans that were a dark denim wash, faded over time, with a tattered hole in one knee. There were tattoos scattered over his flesh, peeking from his collar, and down his hands. Letters on his knuckles spelled something that you couldn't quite make out, and he had a luscious mop of maple syrup hair on his head that looked like it had once been gelled into place but lost the fight hours ago. He raked a big hand through it slowly, pausing halfway through the movement, and tucked his chin to pin you with an anticipatory stare.

The last person you every expected to see again was Steve Harrington.

He pushed his wayfarer sunglasses up to reveal hazel eyes that were just as sad as they were electric. Swiping the tip of his tongue over his top lip, he repeated himself. “Pump 2?”

You gave a flustered wave of your hand. “Yes, of course,” turning to pull a soft pack from the wall behind you. “Matches?”

He shook his head, and then, “just a sec,” before sauntering over to the aisle on the other side of the potato chips.

Tossing a back of Magnum condoms on the counter next to his smokes, he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and said a polite, “those too, please.” The wallet was as worn as his jeans and connected by a chain to one of his belt loops.

The cash register made loud click-clack noises as you punched in the numbers and gave him the total. You weren’t expecting to see the wad of bills that fanned, but then he handed you what you needed.

“You new here?” He asked as you passed him his change, rolling a piece of bright green gum from the inside of his cheek to start chewing it again.

You stumbled over the question. “New to this store or Hawkeye?”

A smirk lifted up one side of his mouth. “Both, I guess?”

He was well aware that you were new to the corner gas n’ sip because he’d been a regular customer for years, and he definitely would have remembered you.

Definitely.

Yet, something about you felt very familiar.

“I grew up here,” your delivery was dry.

Steve tilted his head back to assess you down the bridge of his nose and frowned like he didn’t believe you. You noticed that his hands were rough and stained with evidence that he did some vocation of hard labor for a living.

You decided to humor him with a clue. “I left Hawkeye right before my freshman year. My hair was different back then, and my mom drove a big, white Buick LeSabre—-”

With an unblinking stare, he blurted your name, repeating it a few times in disbelief as the memory seized him.

There you were, the one who’d haunted his middle school dreams. The first notable crush he ever had, standing a few feet in front of him

“Shitttt,” he continued, scooping his purchases up in one hand, huffing out a breath. He searched your face, and you watched the light in his eyes intensify. “You were a year older than me, right? I remember you were always so bossy on the playground.”

You sealed your lips over a chuckle. “Well, someone had to keep you and Eddie from dismantling the playground equipment to sell to the salvage yard.”

Steve chomped down on his lip in a smile, his hip finding the edge of the counter, trying to get closer to you. “Copper,” he corrected with a one-eyed squint. “We wanted to dismantle the lampposts. Copper wiring could earn a pretty penny back then.”

“You’re still good with your hands I see,” gesturing to his calloused digits, the moons of his cuticles stained from motor oil, knuckles slashed with white scarring.

He flexed his right hand into a fist and then opened it again, deliberate and slow, watching you as he did so. “I do alright.”

He was leaning over the counter at that point, elbow resting next to the cash register, hip jutting out behind him, holding his mouth as if he were about to say something—-

“...and then, do you know what Ned said to me? Nothing, that’s what. Three days and I barely get two words out of him. Before you go, there are two crates that need to be put away in the back—-”

56 year old Donna, your boss, approached the front desk from the back room, buzzing with conversation. She stopped short when she saw Steve there, and tucked some silver, permed hair behind her ear.

“Oh, hey Steven,” she greeted.

“Donna,” he gave a twitch of a smile, standing to full height again, slipping his wallet into his back pocket. “I was just catching up with an old friend.”

Donna had on bright pink lipstick and heart-shaped, baby blue clip-on earrings. “You know Steve?”

“You could say that,” you stared at him as you said it. “I’ve tried to put it behind me.“

Steve ran his tongue over the ridge of his teeth at that, and you could see that the left incisor was gold.

Donna crowded in behind you, trying to get to the styrofoam container with her food inside that was on a stool just below the rack of caffeine pills. It was leftover burger and fries from the diner across the street and the smell had been making your mouth water.

“How’s Eddie?” Donna asked, and it was obvious she was talking to Steve. “Haven’t seen him drop by here in a while.”

Steve pulled his sunglasses out of his nest of hair and slid them back down to his nose before giving you one final look. You backed up against the cigarette display to watch him go.

“He’s been busy,” Steve gnawed his gum, addressing your boss. “Business at the garage has picked up since the only other mechanic in town split. I work there part time when I’m not—” he swallowed back whatever he was initially about to say. “---when I’m not doing other things.”

Donna shoved the corner of her sesame seed bun burger in her mouth, chewed it and kept talking. “I saw Robin yesterday. Her and Ratchet back together?”

In the past few days of your employment, you were learning that Donna was a pillar of gossip in the community, and she wasn’t afraid to ask the tough questions.

Steve scratched the stubble on his chin, possibly contemplating how much he should share. “I think they have an understanding,” he chimed diplomatically, stealing another glance in your direction.

“Say hi to Wayne for me,” Donna added as Steve pushed his way out the mostly glass door. He waved over his shoulder in response, nodding that he would.

You shimmied further along behind the counter, pretending to organize the pens, so that you could follow where Steve was going, see what he was driving.

To your surprise, he pumped gas into a hulking, coal black motorcycle with ape-hanger handlebars and blue ghost flames on the tank. You were staring with your mouth slightly agape when Donna’s voice broke your concentration.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, cheek of food again. “That boy is adorable, but he’s bad news.”

“Why?” The question was out of your mouth before you were cognitively aware of it.

She thumbed ketchup from the corner of her mouth. “You ever heard of the Coffin Kings?”

Your gaze flicked to the side, catching Steve as he kicked a leg over to straddle the bike. “I don’t think—it doesn’t ring a bell.”

You were lying; of course you’d heard of the Coffin Kings. How could you forget the horde of long-haired bikers who cruised through town when you were a kid, a few of them stopping by to pick Eddie and Steve up from school on occasion. Eddie’s uncle Wayne was one of the original members, and most of the teachers kept their manners around the boys for that reason alone. Sure, Steve got detention for carving his initials into one of the school desks, but little did you know that it was only because he knew you would be in there too.

Steve revved the bike to life until it was growling, idling in place with his back to you while he strapped his bare bones helmet on.

“How do you know him?” Donna asked, not afraid to be pushy.

“Well, I—” you thought about the specifics of that question. “I don’t know him at all anymore, really. We were just kids. It’s been a long time.”

“You want my advice?” Donna wiped her mouth with a tissue from a nearby Kleenex box.

You didn’t, but you knew you couldn’t stop her from giving it to you.

“If you’re looking for a bad boy type, his friend Eddie is a much better catch. Runs his own business, works hard, stays out of trouble. Steve? Well, let’s say Stevie is just—-”

You turned to her as Steve hit the main road and shot into the distance. “He’s what?”

You waited while she rolled her lips together, wetting them thoughtfully, turning her gaze to the ceiling.

“He’s a nice kid, but he’s trouble,” she sighed. “He’s not the type you’d want to get serious with, if you know what I mean.”

Coincidentally, you did know what that meant. You were a bit of a connoisseur when it came to trouble; not only could you sniff it out, but it flocked to you like seagulls on a parking lot french fry.

But what Donna didn’t know was that you were no angel.

You scoffed at her suggestion. “I’m not looking for a relationship any time soon. I plan to stay single for a while.”

Donna dumped the rest of her dinner in the trash under the cash register. “In that case, you and Steve have more in common than I thought.”

—-----

Steve had the rest of the evening off, he should’ve gone straight home to have a beer in his boxers in front of the TV and try to pass out early. He’d been slinging wrenches at Munson’s Garage that day, a double shift to help Eddie out, and his hand was throbbing so hard he had to take it off the throttle and shake it out.

But also, who was he kidding? He hadn’t slept more than a few hours that whole week. He needed a distraction, he needed people, he needed to forget his gut-wrenching loneliness for a while.

He revved the throttle, shooting himself faster along the empty highway, passing nothing but flat alfalfa fields and the odd farmhouse every mile or so. The low, desert hills rolled like sleeping giants on the horizon as dusk descended.

The Blue Light Tavern was housed in a brick building built in the 40’s, located between the truck stop and the Rosebud Motel, about a mile or so from the center of town. The only way anyone passing by would even know it was a tavern was due to the neon Pabst and Jameson signs in the two tiny front windows. There were already two motorcycles out front when Steve pulled up, and he found a spot at the end.

The bartender that night was Angie, and she greeted him by name when he strolled in. He asked for a beer, picked some songs on the jukebox, and started a game of pool with a fellow MC member, cigarettes bobbing from their lips as they played.

That's when you walked in.

He took a drink from his pint glass, pausing it there, watching you scan the room before making your way quietly to one of the stools at the far end of the bar, on the corner, closest to the door, as if you might have to make a run for it. You were in the same clothes you’d had on at the gas n’ sip, but now you wore a zip-up black hoodie, hugging it around your ribs as if you were cold.

The guy Steve was playing pool with was known as Big Jim around Hawkeye. Head of hair slicked back with generous sideburns down to his jaw, and a white scar making a thin indentation from the corner of his mouth to his ear. He wore a long sleeve red and black flannel under his Coffin Kings kutte with the name Hopper patched on one side.

Hopper said something to Steve and he appeared to ignore him, but finally blinked a few times. “What did you say?”

Hopper held his pool cue across his lap as he sat on one of the tall swivel chairs against the wall, long legs braced wide. “It’s your move, Romeo,” he drawled, plucking his smoke from the ashtray to take a drag. .

Steve suddenly got very confused, frowning when he turned to his friend. How could Hop know he was interested in you?

Hop gestured to the green felt under the Budweiser chandelier with his chin, exhaling, framing his lips to make an “O” with the smoke. “Your turn, pipsqueak.”

“Right,” Steve huffed, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall.

—--------

You waited outside, staring up at the Pabst neon that was missing the “b”, trying to work up the nerve to go in. The Blue Light Tavern had been around so long, you remembered it from the rare occasions when your dad met up with his buddies, back when it was called The Hideaway. Before the accident, back when you were a kid and considered Hawkeye your home.

You were officially a resident once more, but you weren’t sure if you’d feel at home anywhere ever. You weren’t sure if you’d ever feel safe again. You weren’t sure you’d ever feel again.

When you finally opened the door, smoke billowed out, and the low-lit, grimey ambiance felt like a familiar friend. You weren’t in the mood to drink, necessarily, you just didn’t want to sit at your apartment alone. There weren’t many public places open in Hawkeye after 9, so you’d just been walking around aimlessly for the past hour. Your tiny rental above the Gas n’ Sip was empty but for a mattress, two kitchen chairs, and five or six boxes you still needed to unpack. It all felt too dismal and overwhelming to tackle after your first full day at your new job.

“What’ll it be darlin’?” The brunette bartender asked, using a white rag to wipe down the bar in front of you. There was ice melting in a tumbler, a few used toothpicks, and a sticky ring on the woodgrain. She scooped it all out of the way and then stared at you with a hand on her ample hips.

You were flustered and said the first thing that came to mind. “Can you make a gin and tonic?”

“I think I can handle that,” she winked, moving out of the way to grab a glass. You could hear the billiard balls clacking together over the music of Bringin' on the Heartache by Def Leppard , but there was a jukebox and a length of partition in the way, so you couldn’t see who was at the table. Including you, there were only a handful of customers that night; one surly man with a long gray beard at the bar, a couple at a table looking up at the mounted Zenith TV on the wall playing a muted episode of the Twilight Zone, and another two were throwing darts at a well worn target.

Angie placed a white cocktail napkin before setting your drink down. “Someone bought you this,” she had tiny veins of red around the cracks of her bare lips, as if she’d been wearing lipstick earlier.

“Someone?” Disbelief came first, and then it made you paranoid. The last thing you wanted was to get hit on by—-

“It was him,” Angie gestured down the end of the bar to where Steve caught your eye and bucked his chin at you.

The universe really did have a sense of humor.

—-----

A few minutes later, once he finished his game and let Hopper win just to move things along, he sauntered over to put his booted foot up on the bottom rung of the stool next to you. His white tee had a V-neck, exposing a tuft of chest hair. “Are you following me?”

You swished your drink with a red stir stick, and then sucked it clean. “I won’t let this freebie go to my head, Harrington. I bet you buy drinks for all the new women in town.”

He gripped a fresh cigarette between pursed lips and lit the end, looking up at you from under his furrowed, James Dean brow. “Yeah, but you’re not new.”

“Shhh it’s a secret,” you snipped two fingers in the air like a pair of scissors and he grinned at that, offering his pack of reds for you to take one. One of his ears was pierced, and a small silver hoop curved there.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t,” you answered flatly, leaning over so that he could light the end for you with his plastic blue Bic, inhaling so that your cheeks hollowed.

“You want to read my palm again?”

“Again?” You exhaled smoke to the side.

Steve straddled the stool and got comfortable with his elbows on the bar. “You read my palm once when we were kids,” he straightened his arm, locking his elbow, so that his palm was open in front of you. “I think you said my love life would be troubled, but I’d live a long life. And then you made some crack about how I’d let the right one get away.”

You huffed a laugh and chomped onto your bottom lip to keep from smiling too big, staring at his strong fingers as they wiggled in front of you, veins popping strong in his forearm.

“I can’t believe you remember that.” Tilting your head to the side, you took another sip of your drink, cringing a little at the strength of the alcohol; it was a glass of gin with a splash of tonic. But maybe Angie’s heavy hand was a blessing that night.

The gold in his tooth flashed like lightning in a storm. “I remember everything,” his voice was soft and deep, and you had to look away before he turned you into a brainless, lovesick zombie from his vampiric-strength powers of persuasion.

Clearing your throat, you squirmed a bit under the weight of his stare. “My palmistry days are behind me. I’m out of practice.”

He slid his hand back, but slowly, hoping you might want to touch it or grab it or—-

“But I am curious—”

Fingers flexed flat again as an invitation.

“---what does it say on your knuckles?”

“Oh these?” He made two fists and twisted them to read it himself as if he wasn’t sure, and then put both palms flat and slid them back in your direction, fingers splayed.

Murmuring aloud as you spelled it out, you realized that the right knuckles spelled LOVE and the left ones said PAIN in thick, capital lettering.

“My turn,” he pulled back his shoulders, taking another drag, squinting, before resting his cigarette butt back in the ashtray.

“Your turn for what?”

“Questions. What is that key around your neck for?”

You slapped a hand over the metal piece dangling from a chain, not realizing it had escaped the confines of your shirt collar, fingering it thoughtfully as you thought about what type of story you should make up.

You could tell him the truth, but you weren’t sure you were emotionally equipped to answer any further questions. You made a fist around the key and started massaging it with your thumb, when another hulking biker with a thick mustache cupped a meaty hand onto Steve’s shoulder.

“Bones just paged, we gotta meet them at the junkyard on ,” the big man shifted his kind, blue eyes to you, blinking with a nod of his head to acknowledge your presence, and offer his silent apologies all at once.

Steve stood without argument, clearly duty bound, but his attention remained on you. He motioned Hopper ahead, and then he idled there, internally stumbling over his words.

“Any chance you’ll be here again tomorrow night?” He flicked the spark on his lighter a few times as he spoke out of nervous habit.

You tucked the metal key into your shirt. “I work the late shift at the gas station tomorrow.”

His mood seemed to lift slightly at knowing where you would be.

“Taz,” Hopper hummed from the door where he braced it open with his broad back, offering a blast of fresh air to the nicotine saturated walls. Taz was Steve’s nickname in the club, but that was just one more thing you had yet to learn about him. He adjusted the collar of his leather jacket, gave your bicep a tender squeeze as he went by, and leaned down to whisper, “it’s good to see you,” at the shell of your ear, giving you goosebumps.

Once he was gone, the tavern suddenly felt emptier, the sound of George Thorogood singing about drinking alone pounding much louder as you stared down at the glass in your hand.

You finished your drink and then you made the trek back home, hugging yourself against the crisp night breeze, wondering how you would occupy your time for the next couple hours before you found sleep.

—------

The roar of their two engines cut through the dry June night like a knife, affording no illumination but their headlights and the moon. Steve had replaced his leather jacket with his own MC leather that said TAZ on the front from one of his saddlebags, bare flesh of his arms exposed to show the scattering of tattoos there as he gripped the handlebars. Both riders wore clear safety glasses to protect their eyes from the wind and the kamikazee bugs.

Snipes Junkyard loomed menacingly in the expanse of desert, shrouded in cobalt night. Heaps of twisted metal wreckage, smashed cars all piled on top of each other, and a high fence made of corrugated metal with curls of razor wire along the top ridge.

There was a group of bikes parked out front when they arrived and two of the Coffin Kings Prospects, Riot and Krebs, guarded the gate to the place.

Both new arrivals put their helmets on the end of their handlebars and tucked their safety glasses into their front pocket as they approached.

“What are we walking into?” Hopper asked, and Riot was already shaking his head in answer.

“The underground tunnels were breached,” he said, tucking a strand of curly black hair behind his ear. “Crater isn’t happy.”

Crater was a Hawkeye native who got his nickname because of the chicken pock scars that covered his cheeks and jaw. He was also President of one of the other MC’s in town called the Skull Crushers.

When tensions were high among the gangs, there was always a good chance someone would pull a gun or start punching, so Steve and Hopper shared a weary look, bracing themselves before entering.

—------

Just as you were about to step up onto your block, you caught sight of someone coming out of the mini mart that you lived above. A side door led up a flight of narrow stairs, and the top room was all yours; it was the size of a tin can, but it was shelter and you were grateful.

Through the soft glow of the front window, you saw Donna’s husband Ned behind the counter with his half-moon reading spectacles on and a novel open in front of him. Which reminded you to make sure you brought some material to entertain you on your shift the next night.

Somewhere not too far off in the distance, a group of coyotes yipped their excited whines.

The person who’d just come out paused on the sidewalk to light a smoke, and you sank around the corner of the building to watch the guy in the jeans, leather, and thick boots stroll over to put some gas in the tank of his Harley. Bulkier than the one Steve rode, this one was glossy obsidian with chrome pipes and a sissy bar in back, as if he usually had a rider with him. His hair was unruly, long and dark, and once you caught a glimpse of his profile from the dim beam above the pumps, you knew right away that it was Eddie Munson.

You thought about getting his attention to say hello, but then realized that your social battery was tapped for the day. The cigarette dangled from his mouth when he took off, and you waited until he was down the street before darting to the stairs of your apartment.

—-----

A few hours later, Steve’s left hand with the PAIN held a black payphone receiver to his ear while the other hand rolled the numbers on the rotary dial. His knuckles were freshly spit and bleeding, since one of the Skull Crushers had come at him during a misunderstanding at the meet earlier, and he was forced to lay the guy out. He felt wired, like rest had somehow become his enemy, something he ran from as it tracked him ruthlessly.

A woman who went by the name Lorelei picked up on the second ring.

“It’s me,” he coughed and tasted that familiar copper tang. “It’s Steve. Are you busy?”

It was almost 4 in the morning, but Steve had been a regular customer for a few months and, also, she didn’t mind his company. He wasn’t like her other customers; he didn’t want the typical things from her.

His hand haphazardly bandaged with a red handkerchief; he hugged it to his chest when he knocked at the door of room 8 at the Rosebud Motel. When it opened, Lorelei stood there with a silk, periwinkle kimono wrapped snug around her curves, and motioned him in. There were two lamps on in the room, both of their shades were draped with floral scarves, and a candle burned on the nightstand, smelling of essential oils, bergamot and lavender. She didn’t live at the Rosebud, but she did stay a few nights in a row there when she was working.

Steve's relationship history thus far had been a blur of endless disconnect, a series of hit and runs that left his heart empty and his eyes vacant. It was easy for a guy in a motorcycle club to get laid; their parties were always crawling with eager pussy. But after a certain age, that wasn’t what he craved anymore. He often worried that the parental dynamic he’d witnessed growing up, or lack thereof, had fucked him up to the point that he would never be able to have a normal relationship with a girl he liked.

A while ago he’d given up on love, figured that he was broken. But he still had urges, and making them transactional helped him to disengage further.

“What are you in the mood for?” Lorelei hooked a finger into his belt loop and pulled him closer, searching his face. “Same as last time, hmm?”

Steve lowered his head, internal exhaustion making him dizzy. He held her arm, thumbing the delicate material of her robe. “Not tonight,” he swallowed thickly. “Just the stuff that…comes after.”

Nodding that she understood, she cupped his chin so he would look at her. “Will three hours be enough?” One look at him told her what he needed was 24 at the least, but three was all she had to give.

Over the years, Steve had come to realize that his insomnia was somehow cured when he could sleep next to someone. To roll over and have them there, to hold them. Alone, his mind raced, and nightmares plagued the inside of his eyelids. With Lorelei, they mostly slept side by side, and the weight and familiarity of her was somehow enough to calm his nervous system down to a reasonable level.

“Come,” she sat him on the edge of the bed and knelt to unlace his boots. He wrestled to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, ready to pluck some bills out, but she put her hand up to stop him.

“After, okay? I trust you,” she whispered, tugging off the first boot by the heel, rubbing the ball of his foot a little before moving to the next shoe.

Steve’s head bobbed on his neck, and then he rolled it back to center, eyes heavy.

He always refused to undress fully, and Lorelei suspected it had something to do with how vulnerable it made him feel, but she never asked questions. He scooted up to find the pillow with his head, and by the time she crawled in next to him and put her hand on his thigh, he was out.

-------

Thank you to my darling readers who love biker Steve!

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington series #Steve Harrington fic #Stranger Things fic #biker!steve #biker!steve harrington #Ring of Fire

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serendipnpipity · 4 days

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The Magician: “The representation of pure willpower. With the power of the elements and the suits, he takes the potential innate in the fool and molds it into being with the power of desire.” (x)

Not-so-little design breakdown below!

Of course Phil had to be the Magician. Take a look at his TATINOF and II segments—the literal reference is already there (and can be seen in his outfit, which is a mix of the TATINOF magician’s tuxedo and the II red button-up).

Not only that, the Magician is characterized as a “master manifester”. How many of this guy’s tarot predictions have come true? Talk about psychic manifestation abilities.

The wand held by the Magician traditionally represents balance, being a “perfect union” of two ends of a candle (x). What’s a more perfect union than PINOF itself, the pinnacle union of dnp’s channels in those first ten years? Hence, the wand in his hand became a Sharpie, and to mimic light emanating out of what would be a candle flame traditionally, I added cat whiskers in bright yellow.

The workbench in front of the Magician holds all four suits (pentacles, cups, swords, wands) to symbolize how everything can be channeled together to create (sorry, “craft”, taken verbatim from the website) new ideas and endeavors. The bench itself I stole straight out of the phouse (other side partial kitchen reveal yay), while the suits have been turned into dnp-project-related objects. The pentacle (glitterface pentagram) and sword (slime knife) are from DAPC, while the wand (Wii remote) and cup (Flame Susan mocktail) are from DAPG.

This card, helpfully, is surrounded by plants; I chose some of their non-crispy houseplants for the background. In the back, obviously, is the vine creeping along the cool black wall in the kitchen area. In the front, the fronds are inspired by plants I could see in the background of the 2nd London apartment AP set, accompanied by two roses (orange, for the flowers Dan receives at the end of WAD… and the orange heart).

I saw in the visual breakdown for the card that one site says the infinity above the Magician’s head represents “the equilibrium of opposites that The Magician requires to create”. That is THE most Dan and Phil thing I have ever heard, with all their cosmically coincidental opposite characteristics.

When I drew that infinity on the background though, on the phouse wall, it hit me. This is the “forever home”. Of course, there’s an infinity sign plastered on top of it. This revelation was so strong, I broke down and texted @bewareofthenewphannie about it.

Oh, and ginger quiff Phil? Thank Misty for that one, they suggested it would be a good look if I wanted to combine past and present in one outfit/style.

All in all, I had so much fun making this! What a pleasure and an honor to be a part of such a beautiful project. 🧡

@dnptarot

#dan and phil #phan #dan and phil art #phanart #THANK GOD it's done!!!#ser sketches #quite possibly one of my favorite things I've ever created for the phandom so far #thank you dnptarot for making this project a reality <3 #out of everything surprisingly those leaves gave me GRIEF #but by golly was it worth it :)#MISTY I MENTIONED YOU AND THEN GOT YOUR USER WRONG TERRIBLY SORRY

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quest-for-pluto · 1 year

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Asterism

Human!Neteyam x Human!Female!Original Character.

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Summary: He stared at his hands as they hovered in front of his face, tremors running up and down his fingers. His five fingers, not four. And deep, warm brown skin. Not blue.

When Neteyam dies, instead of ending up in Eywa’s promised paradise, he wakes up on an apocalyptic earth, with a strange human girl as his only hope for survival.

Interlude 1: She Has Spoken

Neytiri sat alone in the Sully marui, holding her son's handmade necklace between her fingers. He had crafted it himself at ten years old, after he'd seen his father wearing one.

Only warriors wear necklaces, Jake had smiled at their son, ruffling his braids. You may make one after your first hunt.

Neytiri's lip wobbled as she clutched it close to her chest, exhaling deeply and feeling warm tears blur her vision. She barely noticed his approaching footsteps until her husband laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"It's time," he said softly.

Her chest squeezed painfully at the realization that this was the last time she was going to see her son without visiting Eywa, to touch his face and stroke his hair. "I don't want to go," she choked out. There was not enough air on this planet to soothe the ache in her lungs as they tightened.

Jake sighed deeply through his nose. As he maneuvered around to face her, she observed the small cracks in his normally stoic expression. Glimpses of the true pain and exhaustion he was feeling that he would never let anyone else see.

"Neteyam needs you," he said quietly, reaching up a hand to brush away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. "He needs his mother."

Neytiri closed her eyes, gathering all of her hurt and suffering and stuffing it into a tiny bottle at the back of her mind. She felt a false calmness wash over her, a strength reserved only for her children. She opened her eyes. "He does," she whispered, reaching up to rest her own hand on top of his.

Jake helped her to her feet, leading her to where the body of her eldest son floated on a woven stretcher, his limbs tied together in the traditional fetal position.

The rest of her children plus Spider were already there waiting, keeping the stretcher afloat. She felt a usual spike of resentment and bitterness towards the later, but it was tamped down by the overwhelming sadness of the occasion, and the satisfaction that his father was most likely dead for good now. There were more important things to focus on.

Everyone from the Metkayina clan had gathered in the bioluminescent water, holding flickering torches as they respectfully waited for the funeral proceedings to start. The Olo'eyktan's family stood at the forefront.

Ronal's eyes flickered up as they approached. Her chin dipped in respect. "With your permission," she said. "We will start now."

Neytiri fought the urge to close her eyes and run far, far away. Instead she looked at her husband, both of them nodding in consent.

They wadded carefully into the water, the crowd parting respectfully for them as they came to stand before their son's body. Neytiri took a deep breath.

"Pamtseol ngop ayrenut," she sang. "Mì ronsemä tìfnu, mì hifkey."

(Music creates patterns, in the silence of the mind, as weavers do.)

"Awnga rol fte kivame. Kame fte rivol. Rerol tengkr kerä ìlä fya'o avol ne kxamtseng."

(We see to sing. We sing to see. We sing our way down the eight paths to the center.)

"Aywayl yìm kifkeyä ìheyut avomrr sìn tireafya'o avol, na waytelemä hìng."

(The songs bind the thirteen spirals of the solid world to the eight spirit paths, like the threads of a Songcord.)

Neytiri unclapsed her son's necklace, fastening it around her own neck with a pained heart.

Jake took her hand as they approached Neteyam. Her son's eyes were closed, a peaceful expression smoothing out his features.

"It's okay," Jake said softly, not to one person in particular, but to everyone in the family. As one, they mounted their ilus and began to pull the stretcher with their brother and son further into the vast, glowing waters. Once they got far enough out, they dismounted, treading closer to the stretcher to slide Neteyam's body out of it.

Neytiri choked on a sob as she held her son close for the last time. His hair drifted softly around his head like a halo, his lips slightly parted. Lo'ak rested a hand on his brother's forehead, as if reluctant to let him go.

With deep, shuddering breaths, Neytiri and Jake plunged into the water, each holding either side of their son as they lowered him gently to the glowing coral ground. As soon as the glowing plants tenderly enveloped his body, his parents let go, treading upwards.

That was when something strange happened.

The coral glowed even brighter around their son's form, but instead of disappearing into the plants, his body started to convulse. Small twitches that Neytiri denied at first, and then undeniable, full body convulsions that shifted the coral around him. Neytiri yelped in shock, a few air bubbles escaping her mouth.

The Sully family watched in fascination and disbelief as his chest began to glow from his bullet wound, the hole seemingly starting to close on its own.

With a cry, Neytiri swam back down to her son, narrowly escaping the grab Jake made for her arm. She cradled his body gently in her arms, shaking him urgently. "Neteyam!" She screamed underwater, uncaring of the air escaping her lungs. "Neteyam!"

Just as she felt herself begin to choke, two strong hands grabbed her by the arms, yanking her and her son up to the surface.

"Neteyam!" She coughed, bringing him back to the stretcher and cupping his face. The rest of her family quickly crowded around the stretcher, peering over him with bated breath.

"It's gone..." Jake whispered in wonder from beside her.

Looking down, she gasped in amazement. He was right, the bullet wound that had pierced her son's chest, leaving a small gaping hole, had healed almost completely. The only evidence left behind was a circular, slightly raised scar.

"By Eywa," Neytiri whispered, frantically pressing her ear down over his chest. Sure enough, the steady thump-thump, thump-thump of her son's heartbeat rang clearly in her ear, moved steadily against the skin of her cheek. Her eyes watered as she whimpered from joy, slowly raising herself to stare directly at her wide-eyed husband.

"He's alive," she breathed, voice thick with emotion.

*******

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katareyoudrilling · 1 year

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Laminated (✂️ Dieter Bravo x Female Reader)

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Summary: Dieter has the receipts

Word count: ~1.4k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Vasectomy kink (aka the opposite of breeding kink), oral (F receiving), PIV, vibrator

A/N: I am as surprised as you are that out of the many fic ideas floating around inside my brain, Dieter is the one that organized his way out first! All of my vasectomy kink fics are marked with “✂️“ in my Masterlist. If you would like to join the Vasectomy Kink Club sign up for my Taglist! The link is in my bio and on my Masterlist. Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Masterlist

Taglist - link in my bio and on my Masterlist

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Dieter leans over the table where you’re working. His large hands grip the edge.

“We’ve been over this, Dieter,” you reply without looking up from your laptop.

“I know,” he hangs his head and scuffs the toe of his slipper against the hotel carpet. “Just thought you might change your mind.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Dunno,” Dieter shuffles about sadly.

“There are lots of other women, and men, on this set. I bet one of them will have sex with you.”

“Nope.” He drops down to his elbows, resting his chin in his hands. “Asked them all.”

“Well doesn’t that make me feel special.” You roll your eyes and finally glance over at him. He looks like his usual disastrous self. But somehow a ratty bathrobe and holey t-shirt suits him.

“Come on sweet cheeks, you know I asked you first.” He winks. Damn him.

It’s true. He had asked you first. You hate that you had felt a jolt of excitement when he approached you that first day but getting involved with one of the actors was never a good idea. So you declined and watched as he seemed to approach anyone with a pulse. He’s a mess, but it still surprises you that no one said yes. Did they look at him?

You shrug and keep working, unwilling to meet his puppy dog eyes.

“Oh! Oh! I know!” Dieter exclaims suddenly. He digs in the pockets of his pajama pants and pulls out a cloth wallet stuffed with bits of paper and cash and held closed by a Velcro tab. He rips it open and the contents explode across the table.

“Wow, thanks for the mess, Dieter,” you brush some crumpled 100 dollar bills off your keyboard.

“Wait, look,” he unfolds a piece of paper and lays it in front of you.

“Your STI results?” you ask, looking down the list of tests marked negative.

“I’m clean, see?” He sounds so proud.

“This is from before filming started.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since.”

“Even so, it’s not the problem. I’m sorry Dieter.” You hand him back the folded paper, then shove the rest of the mess in his direction. What looks like a laminated business card catches your attention. Amongst the scraps of paper and wads of money, it has been kept pristine.

“What’s this?” You hold up the card.

“The results of my vasectomy,” he answers as he dejectedly re-stuffs his wallet.

You look down at the card in surprise. Sure enough, it appears to be a portion of a lab printout. His name, the real one, at the top, followed by a date ten years ago and 0.0000 sperm per mL detected. Laminated.

“Is this real?”

“Of course. I would never lie about that.”

You believe him.

Dieter Bravo may be a lot of things, but in your experience, he is honest to a fault. Heat begins to stir in your belly. You swallow thickly.

“You should have led with this.”

Dieter looks up at you surprised.

“Does that… Do you…” he stutters, his brown eyes wide with hope.

This is probably an incredibly stupid decision. You will probably regret it. But at least that regret will be short-lived and not require any medical intervention. Dieter is a complete disaster, but in a really endearing way that has gotten under your skin this past month. Fuck it.

“Yes, Dieter, I want to have sex with you.”

“Amazing,” he replies as a huge smile lights up his face and crinkles his eyes.

- - - - - - - - - -

Dieter follows you into your hotel room. As soon as the door clicks closed behind him, he has you pushed up against it, devouring your mouth. He tastes surprisingly minty and fresh. You melt against his plush lips and whimper needily as he explores your mouth with his tongue.

His warm hands glide up your sides and tilt your jaw up to give him access to your neck. As his lips trail downward, you gather the courage to say the thing that has really been making you hesitate.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” you start.

“I’ll still wear a condom, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s not that. I trust you. I want you bare.”

“Fuck yes,” Dieter growls as he grinds into your body and nips at your collar bone. His loose, baggy pants do very little to hide his erection. You briefly lose your train of thought as he licks his way across the swell of your breasts.

“I can’t cum without a vibrator,” you blurt out.

“Ok,” he replies moving back to taste your mouth again.

You pull back, “What do you mean, ok?”

“If that’s what you need, then ok.”

“But…”

“But what, sweet cheeks?” He looks deep into your eyes as he traces your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. His open and earnest expression unwinds your doubts a little bit more.

“That’s not the response I usually get,” you admit quietly.

Dieter exhales through his nose and regards you seriously. “Fuck those guys. I’ll do whatever you need to make it good for you.”

And he does.

He eats you out like a man starved. Grabbing handfuls off your ass and hips while he devours you with his mouth. His glorious tongue circles your clit with warm, firm strokes. It isn’t enough, but it feels so good that you just give yourself over to the sensation. You roll your hips into him and tug on his messy curls making him hum his approval against your center.

There’s no judgement or disappointment from him as he kisses up your stomach, not having made you come. His whiskers tickle against your skin as he attends to each of your breasts before meeting your lips once again.

You feel the fat tip of his cock nudging against your entrance and you open for him, drawing him in with your heels on his non-existent backside.

You both sigh in relief when he is fully sheathed inside you. It’s been too long. For both of you.

He feels so good dragging against your walls while he circles your clit with his thumb. You meet each thrust of his hips with your own and savor every moan that escapes his pouty lips.

Dieter’s breathing intensifies and he pulls out. “Fuck you feel so good… I don’t want to come yet.”

He reaches for your clit suction vibrator and turns it on before handing it to you. “Show me, sweet cheeks.”

He settles on his heels between your legs, stroking his cock, as you touch the vibrator to your swollen clit. You immediately arch off the bed with a gasp. He has gotten you so aroused that you are most of the way there.

You close your eyes as your walls begin to flutter and tightness builds low in your abdomen. The deep rumble of Dieter’s voice telling you how beautiful you are, how hot it is to watch you, how he wants to see you come spurs you on. You feel your orgasm approaching when Dieter surprises you by sliding back into your channel and sending you careening over the edge.

You clench around him and cry out as Dieter strokes deep and hard, syncing with the pulses of your pussy and drawing out your orgasm. You toss your vibrator to the side and he replaces it with the heel of his hand, grinding down into your clit. You spasm against his hand and dig your fingers into his broad shoulders as he finds his own release with a groan.

Dieter slips out of you and pulls you into his side. It doesn’t surprise you at all to find that he’s a cuddler.

“That was amazing,” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Mmhmm,” you agree nuzzling deeper into his side.

“You know what sounds really good right now?” he asks, drawing lazy circles on your skin.

“What?”

“A kitkat.”

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

Masterlist

Vasectomy Kink Club:

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#dieter bravo x reader #Deiter Bravo #vasectomy kink #normalize toys #pedro pascal characters

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theoddcatlady · 5 months

Text

Organ Donor

I just wanted to go to college. That’s not too far out there right?

I’m not going to give you the whole rundown of why I had to resort to what I did. All you need to know is that I didn’t want to end up in debt for the next thirty plus years and I needed to get out of my parent’s house as soon as possible.

I looked up a bunch of ways to make cash quickly. I didn’t want to hurt anyone else to do it, of course. I’m not a psycho. But it took a little less digging and a little more dumb luck. This was about three years ago. I was applying for jobs at a coffee shop when I saw a black van pull out in front of the place.

Three girls exited the van, I barely recognized one of them as a former classmate named Kayla, she was so pale and unsteady on her feet. But she was beaming. She strode inside and she ordered something up front, but I couldn’t hear exactly what she said.

I was more distracted by the row of black stitches going up her side.

She was wearing a crop top so they were out in plain sight. I wasn’t able to stop staring. She didn’t seem like she was in pain, but I had no idea how.

I guess it was on me that she noticed me staring, but she was hardly bothered. She just smiled, grabbed her cup of tea, and headed right for my table. She took her seat and gestured to the scar.

“Hey, it’s ugly, but it’s ten thousand in the bank.”

I sputtered for a moment but the dollar signs had already flashed in front of my eyes. “What did you do?” I asked, my curiosity peaked.

Kayla sipped her tea slowly. “Mmm, donated a kidney. I could’ve made a lot more from something a teenee bit more vital, but it’ll help put the down payment on a new car!” She said in a manner so casual she could’ve been talking about the weather.

I nearly laughed because I thought she was joking. But then I glanced at those stitches again. “… Are you kidding me?”

“What, like you haven’t heard of it?” Kayla laughed. “I think most of our classmates have donated something. There’s not exactly much to do for cash in this dying town, and we all need to get out before we drown with it.”

Ten thousand dollars. That would be amazing. “… How do you do it?”

Kayla winked before she took a card out of her pocket. “I thought you might ask. Here, if I invite someone to donate, I basically get commission. Go to the address on the card. Next week, ten PM. Be there on time or you’ll miss your chance.” With that, she threw away her tea and walked out of there.

It’s stupid how easily I went along with it. But I mean, God gives you two kidneys, you don’t really need both. And ten thousand freaking dollars. I’d have to work my ass off for so long to get anywhere close to that, and that wasn’t even considering how odds are my dad would steal my savings again if I left it be long enough.

So I was there, right on time, at the Red Corner bar with a few other people around my age. Kayla was there, it was clear she’d recruited at least three people to come with her if you include me. The rest had clearly done this before, they were showing off their various scars and talking about how much of a cake walk it was. Just go to sleep and wake up with a wad of cash.

The black van pulled up in front of the bar and the window rolled down to reveal a middle aged woman with silver strands in her otherwise black hair. Her white coat was neatly pressed and she was wearing a pink scrub shirt underneath. She just looked like your average doctor you’d go to for a well check.

“All right, it’ll be a busy night if all seven of you are going, so let’s not waste any time. You all ready? Don’t feel bad if you have to back out, there’s no shame in it.”

I glanced around to see if anyone looked hesitant. The other two newbies did look scared, but the confidence was just oozing off of the people who’d done this before. I wondered what else they could donate since they’d already likely parted with an organ. At the time, I assumed blood or maybe skin.

“Well, all right. Hop on in, I have water ready but snacks will wait until the operation is over.”

We all clambered into the van, which had no seats so we all just had to sit on the floor. The woman handed us all water bottles. “For all you first timers, I’m Dr. Harris. I’ll likely be operating on one or two of you tonight, my associates will handle the rest. It’s all right to be a little nervous, but I promise there’s no risk in this,” She said before she pulled into the street and began driving us someplace else.

I cleared my throat after taking a long drink. “Isn’t there always some risk with donating an organ?” I asked.

Dr. Harris laughed and glanced back at me. “Not the way I do it. You’ll wake up tomorrow morning feeling like nothing is wrong, you’ll immediately be able to go back to your daily activities. Kayla, dear, the forms are tucked in the box back there. Hand those out so we know what we’ll be taking tonight,” She said.

Kayla popped up two thumbs before she started digging through a cardboard box and threw papers at all of us, along with a couple pens. It was a pain in the ass to read the whole thing, since the van was dark and I’d only get the occasional glimpse of light from passing street lamps. Still, I got just enough to be able to check off my ‘l. kidney’ on the list of organs I wanted to donate.

I expected to be taken to some shady warehouse full of sinister people armed with scalpels. Instead, the van pulled up to a rather comfortable looking home in your average suburbia. Dr. Harris escorted us to the backyard, where we entered a walk in basement that had been transformed into an operating theater. Everyone else down there looked just as professional as Dr. Harris, surgeons slipping on masks and gloves or washing their hands.

“All right, let’s get the newbies out of the way first.” Dr. Harris rested her hand on my shoulder. “I think I’ll be operating on you. Come on, let’s get you ready.”

I was let into a side bathroom where I dressed into a surgical gown. I’d never been operated on before then, I didn’t know what to expect.

I did get an inkling something wasn’t quite normal when I was sat down on the table and given a red liquid to drink by a man I assume was like a nurse. It had no taste, I might as well have been drinking air. I laid down on the table as I was hooked up to all the machines and a mask was placed on my face.

Strangely I felt no fear as I was told to count backwards from ten. I didn’t even make it to six before I was out for the count.

Since I’m writing this, I’m sure you guessed I woke up the next morning. Along with all the other operatees, we’d been put in a guest bedroom on the main floor. Nothing felt out of place, I felt no pain. I removed my gown to check out if I’d even really been operated on.

But there was that line of stitches up my side, and although I felt fine, I scared myself half to death when I looked in the mirror and saw how pale I was.

Dr. Harris treated us to breakfast, casually asking how we felt and if we liked blueberries in our pancakes as she shoveled bacon and eggs onto our plates. She was an amazing cook. After we had our fill, we got taken back to the cafe and told if we ever wanted to donate again to be at the Red Corner at the same time and day of the week.

And that was that… or it was going to be anyway.

Luckily for me Dr. Harris was more than understanding and put the money on a gift card so my parents couldn’t once again get into my bank account and empty it out. A few days passed before I bumped into Kayla once more at the coffee shop. She ordered me something and we got to talking. We’d not really been friends in highschool but after our little organ donor experience we’d had gotten a bit of a connection. And she is a really nice person, a bit bubbly and superficial but nice.

We got around to talking about the donation and I asked what she’d donated.

“Oh, a kidney.”

I frowned. “I meant this time, not the first time,” I said.

Kayla laughed and her casual smile sent chills down my spine. “I donated my left kidney the first time, and I donated my right kidney last time,” She said, sounding oh so proud of herself.

I suddenly felt cold. Like I said, it’d already been a few days since we donated. She looked fine, her skin even got a little color back into it, but both kidneys gone?

“You’re full of shit. You can’t live without your kidneys,” my chest went tight and I found myself reaching for my cellphone, “You need a hospital-”

A blur of motion and Kayla had grabbed my wrist, squeezing it so tight that I thought she was about to break it. Her sunshiney expression had been immediately exchanged for something hostile. “Don’t be stupid,” She said in a low voice, glaring and giving my wrist another squeeze before letting go and going back to being that happy go lucky Kayla. “I promise. I’m fine. Dr. Harris is an amazing doctor, after all.”

I felt sick as I rubbed my sore wrist.

That night I went to Dr. Harris’ house. She hadn’t exactly hidden her street or address from us, no bags over our heads or blindfolds as she drove us there, but she wasn’t surprised in the least to see me at her front door. Before I could say anything she just gestured me inside.

There she fixed me a cup of tea and let me sit on her couch while she told me her story.

“You know, I was once a real doctor. One of the finest surgeons in the country,” She sighed as she enjoyed her own cup of tea. “I knew if a patient was on my table, they’d make it out. I wouldn’t let them die. My fellow doctors put that up to the typical surgeon ego. We are not exactly known for being humble, but why be humble when we’re honest? And it wasn’t my pride speaking either. I just knew no one would die on my table if I was the one holding the scalpel.”

I turned my cup around and around in my hands. “You took both of Kayla’s kidneys,” I finally said. “She’s a dead woman walking.”

Dr. Harris slammed her cup down on the side table, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. “She is not going to die!” She took a deep breath calm herself before she glanced at her cup, which had massive cracks going up both sides. “… Damn, I really need to control my temper. It’s my temper that’s really always gotten me into trouble you know.”

She pulled her chair closer. “It was about eight years ago when I had a patient that seemed just as determined to die as I was to save her life. A fifteen year old girl who’d been in a car accident, her body mangled and full of more glass than blood. Even when the surgery was over, my fellow doctors told me there was no guarantee she’d live. But damn it, I wasn’t going to let my patient die!” Her voice shook and a tear went down her cheek. “She was just a child. So I went with an… unorthodox method. And I saved that girl’s life.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

Dr. Harris sighed. “I will not share all the details. Just know that it was, in the eyes of the hospital board, an act of malpractice and had nothing to do with her miraculous recovery. I lost my medical license, I was blacklisted from all hospitals in the country. I was called everything from a lunatic to a satanic sociopath. But Satan had and still has nothing to do with my work. How I managed to get the human body to work without the pieces inside is all me. With more practice on small animals, I found that it works out much better if the person whose parts are replaced is in relative good health, so I figured out my new path. Take organs from the healthy, give them to the not so fortunate, those who likely wouldn’t survive my new operative technique. I’m saving lives, and I’ll never let one be taken.”

I swallowed. This sounded like the words of a crazy person, but she sounded so devoted to it, so sure of herself, I found myself believing her.

So my next question is one maybe you’ve already guessed.

“How many organs can you take?”

Dr. Harris’ smile was filled with glee.

“Any one you’re willing to give.”

My other kidney was next, which was foolish but I wanted to know for sure that I wouldn’t die. I waited four months to prove Dr. Harris’ words- that no matter what she took from me, I wouldn’t die.

I did both of my lungs in one go, and although I find myself short of breath more often than before, I have no real problem with it. My pancreas was next, followed by all my intestines. I have less of an appetite, but that’s not a problem. I can save money on the food bill. I did cry when I woke up after my cornea donation and found I could still see, although I can no longer shed tears and my eyes do look a bit strange if you stare at them for too long, how glassy and fake they look and how black the veins are.

The final operation was the only one I think Dr. Harris was truly hesitant about. No one had actually checked that box before. I had enough money to begin my life, but I wanted to be comfortable for years to come.

So I went under that knife and let Dr. Harris take the last thing I could give.

There’s a strange emptiness inside of me now. I don’t cry, I don’t mourn, my exes all call me stonehearted. I’m not hurt by that.

But there’s an odd peace to not really caring at all.

And in this new apartment, in this new life… I’m finally free.

It only cost me my heart.

#my stories

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hournites · 2 years

Text

The Booth

Hournite Week Day 4 - Jealousy

Summary: Beth sets up a kissing booth.

~.~

DAY 1

Rick does not hate this Blue Valley High event for once. Unlike dances like Homecoming or any other obnoxious pep rally during the football season, this was one of the only things that could get him to come back to school after hours. The back-to-school fair held every September had always been gratuitously sponsored by the American Dream. A Ferris wheel and bumper cars set up in the faculty parking lot, carnival games, food trucks and cotton candy stands littered along the front and back fields attracted wide-eyed double-ponytailed freshmen students and seasoned and otherwise bored BVHS seniors alike. Every past year, Rick would secretly supply beer for the popular kids drinking on the roof, the weekend always turning into one of his most profitable occasions.

He’d also sit on the roof, left alone, watching over the student population in bright colours and cheer uniforms scattered around below like ants.

This year would be the first time he’d get to be one of the ants and he could not help admitting to himself how good it felt enjoying the fair and belonging with friends on the other side.

The second Rick parked the Mustang, Yolanda and Courtney flew out of the car, making a beeline for the line to purchase a row of tickets.

Rick huffed and rolled his eyes, taking his time to catch up with them. Principal Sherman was in a t-shirt and baseball cap cranking up the sound system playing the top 40 and Yolanda was explaining to Courtney which food trucks to avoid. Rick cut through the line to some light protests, joining the two.

“Let’s get fries, I’m hungry.”

“I want fries too.” Courtney raised her white star-shaped sunglasses, propping them in her hair. She flexed the toes in her shoes but failed to peer over the taller heads in front of them. “But Yolanda said if we don’t get in line for these now, it’ll loop twice down the courtyard later.”

Rick pulled a wad of tickets out of his pocket with a smirk. “Yolanda doesn’t know how these work as I do.”

She gaped at him. “Where did you get those?”

He shrugged, pulling them out of the line and into the high grass field. “They buy them at the dollar store. Why spend a dollar per ticket when it costs five to get a pack of two hundred?”

Yolanda took ten tickets and stuffed them into the pocket of her jean shorts then passed some for Court. “Usually I don’t condone cheating but this is a game-changer.”

The girls ripped off enough tickets for the value of at least fifteen food items and carnival games each. Rick had already torn off a few strips for Beth but hadn’t found her yet. He would never venture out to the student clubs area of the fair before this year, but Beth was running a booth with other club presidents, kicking off the year’s first Teacher Appreciation Club fundraiser.

“Where’s Beth?”

He did his best to sound casual, scanning around the crowd for some of her standout clothing. She was the only member of her club, she wouldn’t be able to switch out with others for shifts. Rick thought she’d probably get hungry. Lonely too, but he didn’t want to assume. “I was thinking Yolanda could go show Court the Ferris wheel and I could get her some lunch?”

Yolanda and Court looked at each other.

Rick waited for them to answer, standing still in the middle of two balloon dart games with an eyebrow raised.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Court finally said gamely. “I have a better one, though. Let’s all say hi to her first, then do the food and rides.” She didn’t let anyone else get a word in, nodding her curly ponytail at Yolanda and then Rick. “Yeah? Yeah! Awesome, let’s go!”

They trekked over to the club booths, chatting about their new school schedules and comparing opinions about the new art teacher until they found Beth sitting alone at her vibrant red and white craft-decorated booth.

Rick stopped short a few feet away, his face drawn white as a sheet. “What is she doing?”

“We’ve been over this,” Courtney said with a dramatic sigh.

“You told me she had a bake sale.”

“No.” Yolanda was having a very hard time keeping her mouth in a straight line. “We said she was raising money. There was no bakesale about it.”

“Of course, there was a bake sale!” Rick argued. “That’s how you raise money! Not…” He waved his hand at the gigantic woodshop-painted pair of lips hanging from the left corner of her poster stand. “Not that!”

Because that was a kissing booth just a yard away. A kissing booth with Beth Chapel waiting patiently behind its table in a white dress, absently playing a game on her phone while waiting for students to visit her. The table was decorated with fairy lights in mason jars surrounded by an even larger jar for donations. A few signs were propped up on display.

1$ per cheek kiss. $5 for lips.

“Is she crazy? Why would she decide to do that?”

“I think it’s cute,” Court said.

It was extremely cute. Incomprehensibly impractical and likely to yield no profit from a business perspective, but cute as hell. The fact Rick could readily agree to that was only the start of the huge problem. He stuck his hands into his pockets and looked away as his cheeks burned.

“She’s not going to make any money.” It came out harsh but he didn’t mean it like that.

Okay, he did mean it like that, but it wasn’t any slight on Beth.

She looked adorable and this was a cloyingly sweet thing to do but as the velvet red rope stood to manage the nonexistent line, nothing could argue that this entire concept was bound for failure. Especially when she had Model UN’s national flag cupcakes as her main competition. “Nobody is going to kiss her.”

“Rick, that is so rude.” Yolanda rolled her eyes and dug into her purse for a dollar. “That is not true.”

She pushed Rick to get past him and strolled right up to Beth’s booth, dropping in her change. Beth glanced up from her phone with a bright smile and she leaned in to press a kiss on Yolanda’s left cheek.

Rick and Courtney spied from behind the Justice for Isaac Bowin! BVHS Band booth.

“If you’re so worried about her club’s finances, why don’t you give her a real kiss?”

“Why don’t you?” he shot back.

Courtney laughed. “You call that a threat?” She blinked her eyelashes innocently at him. “It’s not that big of a deal. See? Watch.”

She looped her arm into Rick’s and semi-dragged him over. Beth sat up straighter in her seat and waved at them.

Courtney emptied out the pockets of her jean shorts to find some crumpled bucks. Sliding them over, she let Beth press a quick peck to her lips.

It was implied that it was his turn next, what with Yolanda and Courtney’s twin stares. The sun beat down on his back hard enough to break out in a sweat. Remembering the burning hole in his pocket, he strode over and handed her the saved tickets instead.

“For me?” She turned around and stuffed half of them into the purse slung over her chair. Her nose crinkled and she leaned her elbows onto the table, her face against her clasped hands with the rest. She took a giant whiff of carnival food with a longing sigh. “I’ve been sitting for two hours. I would die for a funnel cake right now.”

“You want a funnel cake?” With all the red glitter, the shimmer of Beth’s plum gloss, Court and Yolanda’s pointed silence, and painted lips staring him down, Rick jumped at the opportunity to escape the pressing it’s your turn thoughts. He tugged the tickets right out of her hands, hurrying back into the crowd.

~.~

Beth smoothed out the laminated cards on her booth’s table describing what events her club would be putting on the next fiscal academic year. Over the summer she had budgeted for a get well soon package for Mr. Deisinger, flowers for springtime and a box of chocolates for Miss Woods for taking the time to really help Rick (As club president and its only acting member, Beth was glad she did not have to justify all her expenses to a team). While she technically could supply most of the needs required by pulling these activities off by herself–she had a generous allowance– Sticking to a club budget would help with her professional accounting skills.

Yolanda brought Courtney to the bumper cars ten minutes ago, so she was by herself back on her Instagram page liking all the other club exec stories when a cardboard box of sea-salted fries and a healthy heaping of ketchup slid under her nose. Beth looked up to find Rick perched on the ledge of her wide table with her treats. “Your funnel cake.”

“Thank you!” She grinned at him and took some fries, then pushed the carton over to share some with him as she ripped off a huge piece of the fantastic greasy dough. “Oh my gosh, these are so yummy.”

After another bite, she gently dapped her mouth with her napkin, sheepishly mindful of the sugar crumbs likely all over her mouth by the way Rick kept looking at it.“Have you done anything fun yet?”

“Eating is fun,” said Rick.

Beth pouted. “Don’t you want to play one of the games?” She reached out and squeezed the muscles of his arm playfully. “You’re strong. I bet you’d win the high striker without even needing the hourglass.”

Rick began to stammer, to her surprise. “M-Maybe. I’d rather stick with you though.” He tapped the donation jar and inhaled deeply. “Any luck?”

“Not yet!” Though she wasn’t too concerned about it. “There’s still tomorrow and Sunday.”

“You’re really okay with anyone kissing you?”

She bit her lip, twirling a fry into the ketchup. “I thought it would make good practice.”

“For what?”

“You know,” she said shyly. “A kiss that matters.”

Rick cleared his throat. “I guess it’s good then that Yolanda is advertising your booth.”

“What?”

He nodded over at the group of girls coming over. Beth straightened her back and fixed her hair.

“Oh!” She licked her lips once more self-consciously. These would be the first visitors to her booth that she truly didn’t know. “How do I look?”

Rick was taken aback by the question. “Me?”

“Yes, you, silly. Who else is here? Do I have sugar on my face?”

Rick gave her a once over as she turned it side to side. She should’ve brought a mirror but she trusted Rick. He'd tell her if she had powdered sugar all over her face. “No…You’re good.”

Beth shot him a grateful smile and he returned it.

The girls walked over to her booth and Beth got busy explaining how it all worked and what her club was for. Rick hopped off the table and quietly slipped away.

Yolanda knew what she was doing, bringing over some of the school’s most popular girls. She’s not sure how she did it, especially with the way most of them treated her now. And more especially, Beth wasn’t sure how they’d react to her.

This was not a Cinderella remake, but she did brace herself upon their arrival, unsure about their silence when she explained her club and the rules and was silently thankful Rick stuck around to watch them listen to her. Fortunately, they did not mock her club or rip her handmade glue-gunned posters. In fact, upon realizing Beth had set up an event of being kissed for extracurricular credits, four other girls signed up to volunteer on the spot.

“You know they’re not going to stay as club members,” Yolanda told her when she came back with Court and a huge bag of popcorn. “Come Monday, they’ll forget the Teacher Appreciation Club exists.”

“Oh, I know.” Beth grinned and slung her purse around her shoulder as the other girls' popularity attracted a larger crowd than Beth ever could by herself. She nodded at the jar already half stuffed with money. “But who am I to stop them give a helping hand for a good cause?”

“You mean helping lips?” Court joked as one of the girls grabbed a senior by his collar and fully initiated a make-out with him.

The three girls tilted their heads, watching with mutually unsettled fascination. “Is that allowed?”

Beth shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just glad I can get out now to enjoy the fair.”

The three stepped out of the student club area and bumped into Mike and Jakeem, arguing over who had the best muscle mass for a successful attempt at the high striker. Remembering their conversation from earlier, Beth looked around the sea of people. “Where’s Rick? He could help!”

Courtney stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “He was being a baby so he went home.” Mike and Jakeem snickered. Yolanda stepped on Courtney’s foot.

“What?” she exclaimed, words muffled with popcorn. “It’ch Sch’rew!”

“Is he okay?” Beth frowned, looking up at the Ferris Wheel. She hoped he didn’t get bored waiting for her. She assumed she would have had to miss out on the activities but now that her booth had a shift schedule running… Rick acted like he didn’t care but she knew if she wasn’t busy with her fundraiser he would’ve had fun with them.

Yolanda smiled at Beth and nodded, tugging her along to the face paint tent with temporary tattoos. “C’mon. You should get sun cheeks. I’m getting a butterfly.” Court stuck out her wrist. Tattooed stars were lined up and down her arm. “Yeah. Don’t worry about him. Rick’ll be back tomorrow.”

~.~

DAY 2

Saturday morning at Blue Valley High was pleasantly sunny, not nearly as hot or wild as the Fair’s kick-off day of festivities the day before. He didn’t even know why he was doing it, but immediately after parking the Mustang, Rick’s feet began walking over to Beth’s damn kissing booth. It was like a bad compulsion. He knew it was best to just steer clear and stay away, but a part of him had to become a miserable witness to Beth offering up kisses to any kid in town.

Courtney and Yolanda blew up his phone when he left the fair early, and fine, maybe he deserved that. Later that evening Beth uploaded a photo of herself with moons face painted onto her cheeks. Rick felt doubly guilty about ditching so fast, staring at the candid close-up pic of her nose crinkled and eyes sparkling, her glasses reflecting the fluorescent carnival lights. After several long gruelling minutes he summoned the courage to double tap for a like on the app.

“It’s just a kiss.” Rick muttered this to himself over and over as he crossed the Whack-a-Mole stand. He half considered using some tickets on playing a round to rid his mounting frustration.

It was not just a kiss.

If it was just a kiss, his palms wouldn’t be sweating through his jeans by his sides and he wouldn’t be giving himself a stupid pep talk as he marched through wet grass on the football field to get to the courtyard. Nobody was forcing Rick to cough up the money for Beth’s booth with a gun to his head and as much as the girls poked and teased he didn’t have to do it.

Rick wanted to, though. Not donate the money. Kiss her. Rick wanted to kiss her. Rick wanted to kiss Beth Chapel. Now more than ever, the urge was so bad.

He had known this for a while now, but Rick was pretty certain that little fact was not something Courtney or Yolanda knew about. The girls joined the JSA to fight injustice and become heroes. Beth joined the JSA to save people.

Rick had to remind himself nearly every day. She did not sign up for Rick to develop awkward feelings for her.

It wasn’t something that easily came up in conversation and Rick was not going to volunteer something as embarrassing as having a crush on one of his only friends. He wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, or when, but one day Rick became so attuned to the way her eyes lit up that it was like a dynamite stick blew up in his chest. So sue him. Rick just wanted to kiss her.

He kept thinking these thoughts, still unsure how he was going to greet her as he glanced up at the decorated field. He almost had a heart attack when he saw the line zig-zagging on the school property, stretching from Beth’s booth. An alien feeling of absolute horror almost choked him.

“You can’t cut the line, moron!” Travis hollered when Rick pushed through the crowd of guys and girls. Rick didn’t care. How were these many people clamouring over Beth? How many people did she kiss?!? Would he even matter anymore? After a fifty, a hundred? What good would Rick’s kiss be after tasting half of Blue Valley High’s student population?

He found Jakeem in the mess of students and ripped him out of the line. “What the hell is going on?” It was stupid, but after everything that went down with Grundy and Eclipso, to see Jakeem milling around here with all these strangers felt like a betrayal. “Why are you here?”

Jakeem chuckled awkwardly, flipping the rim of his bucket hat so he could crane his neck up at him. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You’re too young for her!” he snapped.

“Only by 5 months.” Jakeem worried his lip. “Is that too wide?”

Rick blinked. What.

“Helen Cho and I bonded over isosceles triangles.” Jakeem stuck his hands into his hot pink shorts. “She’s in my math class.”

“So you are not here to kiss Beth?” Rick asked to be certain. He raised his voice at the ten or so students gathered in that area of the line. “None of you are here to kiss Beth Chapel?”

Jakeem shook his head slowly, and so did the confused but dissenting crowd.

Rick let out a huge breath of relief. “Can I stand with you?” There were still 20 or so people in front of Jakeem.

“Wait! You want to kiss Beth? That’s cool!”

“Never mind,” he said impatiently, walking to the front.

Finally, he got a glimpse of her. Sitting in the middle chair in the row of popular girls and cheerleaders, Beth was counting money. Her dress today included a green and pink cow print that Rick weirdly enjoyed, and another shade of vibrant plum lipstick. The entire outfit was classic and breathtaking. Rick needed a moment to calibrate his senses from the beauty overload by the time he got to the front.

Beth frowned at him. “You can’t cut the line, Rick.”

He leaned against the side, trying to be smooth. “C’mon, it’s me.”

She carefully folded a ten-dollar bill in half. “I can’t give you special treatment just because…” Beth swallowed and tore her gaze away. She tucked the bill into the money box and cleared her throat in a dainty manner. “You’ll have to wait your turn if you want to kiss Chrissy or Dana.”

“Chrissy or Dana?” The line of cheerleaders sitting on stools dragged down from Mr. Deisinger’s art room were all the same. Perfect hair and straight white teeth and skirts rolled up so high up their thighs they looked like underwear. Any one of them could’ve been a Chrissy or Dana.

Beth said, this time more curtly, “You’re holding up the line.”

Rick closed his eyes. “Are you saying you don’t want me here?”

“I’m not saying that.” One of the girls passed a clipboard to her. She scanned it, briefly looking up at Rick. “I’m working and you’re distracting me.”

“Is this about me skipping yesterday? It’s not like we made plans.”

“Don’t I know it,” Beth muttered under her breath.

Rick pulled a face at her odd attitude. “What the hell?” he wondered aloud. “Are we fighting?”

Beth crossed out a name in her schedule sheet. “We’re not fighting,” she said plainly. “We’re talking.” She waved a dismissive hand to the back as a new guy stepped up to kiss her. Rick’s eyes went wide when she leaned over and gave his cheek a smooch like it was nothing. She stuffed his $1 away, and then glanced up at Rick again a moment after. Clearly, he was an afterthought. Rick scoffed when she raised a single eyebrow, biting on his cheek until he tasted copper. He spun around and pushed his way through what he now understood were five separate lines. Rick followed his brain instead of his heart and stayed the hell away.

Yolanda found him an hour later at the picnic benches, stabbing aggressively at his vinegar fries.

“Sheesh.” She grimaced at his plastic fork slicing through soggy fried potatoes as though he was Shiv or something. “What’s got you in a funk?”

“Nothing.” Rick scowled. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” she balked. “What’s my fault?”

“You invited half of the school to join Beth’s stupid kissing booth!”

Yolanda laughed out in disbelief. “You’re mad that I helped Beth raise money?”

“No!” Rick threw his fork into the cardboard food box. “I’m mad that sixty people are going to give her mono or something before I get the chance to–” He cut himself short but it was too late. Yolanda’s look was knowing. Rick slouched. “Whatever.”

Brian won the balloon pop game nearby, triggering a clamour of bells and whistles.

“You want to kiss her.”

Rick sighed for a very long time. Needing something to do with his hands, he began to shred his box into tiny pieces. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Yolanda clicked her tongue softly. “You’re nervous.”

“I don’t get nervous.”

“You do around Beth.”

Rick didn’t reply.

“You know…” Yolanda gave Rick a sidelong glance. “Maybe you just need practice.”

“What?”

“If Beth gets to kiss so many people, you could too.”

“What does that even mean?”

She shrugged. “Have you asked if she needs volunteers?”

Rick let the idea marinate in his brain for a good two minutes. She had a point, it was better than leaving early again to pathetically watch reels on social media.

Yolanda frowned at his staring. “What?”

“Do you have a mint?”

She rolled her eyes, rooting through her purse.

~.~

Rick pushed through more disgruntled guys to get to the kissing booth. Nobody was currently lined up for Beth, but the cheerleaders from earlier still had quite a few each. “Hey,” he said in one windless breath, climbing over the counter.

Beth and the girls all exclaim and protest his sudden ambush.

“Rick!” Beth watched as he kicked Dana off the stool next to her. “What are you doing?”

“Adding a little gender equality around here.” Rick plopped himself down and reached over for that clipboard with the schedule. He crossed off Danaa’s name and then ripped out a fresh sheet of paper from the pile underneath. RICK got scrawled carelessly on the front of the paper with Beth’s pen. The new name card propped in front of him.

He cupped a hand around his mouth. “I’m open!”

Beth jumped when Dana spun around in her bedazzled flip-flops, interested. “No!” she yelped suddenly, shutting Rick down before he could even get started, slapping her hands chaotically over his makeshift name card and shoving the money jar away. “No, he is not for sale!”

Rick leaned back as Beth manhandled his affairs, standing right in front of him and blocking any line from forming. He peeked around her waist, folding his arms. “Why not?”

“Because!” she snapped, crossly. “You haven’t gone through the, uh, orientation training!”

Jenny W made a funny face at the end of the booth. “What training?” She circled a manicured finger around her mouth. “ All I needed were my two lips.”

Chrissy and the other girl bobbed their heads. “Mmhmm.”

“This is my booth!” Beth cried. “If I say Rick can’t be a kisser, he can’t!”

Dana stood awkwardly at the front. “So do I put away my five dollars or…?”

Rick fixed Beth a look. “Do you want to raise money or not?”

“I do,” she replied meekly.

Rick took that as an answer and beckoned Dana over. The money landed on the table. Rick closed his eyes and swallowed harshly as Dana teetered over the edge to bestow her kiss. Beth went concerningly quiet beside him. Rick reminded himself that she put him through the same thing, but worse. He was the one that liked her. But when he felt Dana’s breath tickle his face and a sharp gasp emitted next to him, he turned his cheek and pulled away, rocketing from the chair. He couldn’t do it. Not for a first kiss. Not even to fill that pitiful aching hole in his chest, the one that demanded payback. Even Rick had standards.

Rick yanked his school bag from the corner of the booth and fled before Beth could yell at him for being such a mess.

~.~

When Beth got home Saturday evening, Rick’s Mustang was parked in her driveway. Her dad nodded at Rick, who was sitting on her front steps. They both waited for her dad to go inside.

Beth hesitantly stepped forward in her cow-print dress. Rick was playing with his car keys.

“I think we need to talk.”

She nods. Worried about this moment, she said, “We don’t have to. It’s okay.”

Rick’s brows furrowed in a way Beth had always thought was tragically cute.

She failed at her own advice, unable to stomach the stretch of silence. “The booth got wildly out of control. I couldn’t micromanage everyone.” While this was true, it was not the whole truth behind her absurd behaviour. “I asked the other girls not to come tomorrow. There’s only one member in the Teacher’s Appreciation Club. My booth should be run by me.”

“That makes sense.”

“I’m sorry for today,” she said.

“I’m the one that cut your line.”

They looked at each other. Her street was quiet, eerily empty. There wasn’t anyone around except for the crickets, no light but the stars overhead and the soft orange light emitting from her living room window. Beth shivered in her short sleeves. Now that the sun was long gone and she wasn’t wearing any tights, she was cold. Without having to ask, Rick went to his car and pulled out a hoodie from the backseat. Beth slipped her arms into it, taking a gift for what it was, appreciating it without questions.

“Are we good?” Rick asked.

Beth nodded. “We’re good.” If she continued any longer, she’d confess that even when he did truly stupid things could she never be mad long.

Rick looked like he wanted to say more. Beth just wanted to hide from the embarrassment of today in Rick’s forest-smelling sweater.

“You’ll still visit me, right?” Beth asked right before he got into the car. “Tomorrow?”

He smiled crookedly at her. “I’ll be there.”

DAY 3

Rick was indeed there. Bright and early. Her booth was vacant again, but after the chaos this weekend, she didn’t mind.

Flattening the skirt of her green dress, Beth gave him a genuine smile. “As you can see, I’m not very busy.” They both glanced at the cupcake stand from Model UN. They looked especially yummy today.

“Do you want one?”

“I can’t walk away from my booth unattended.” She met his eyes and then looked away, not expecting his gaze to be so heavy. The repetitive beat of the carnival music thumped in her ears. “I can shut it down. We can finally explore the rest of the carnival together.”

“We can do that.” Rick was probably tired of this booth anyway.

“Awesome. Let me pack everything up.”

“Or…” Rick began softly, reaching into his back pocket. Beth watched him slide three fives across the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked carefully, mindful of the way her heartbeat morphed to that of a hummingbird. Small. Erratic. Wild.

“This is a kissing booth, right Five dollars per kiss?”

Beth stared at the money as hope crept in all the right places. “You want to kiss me?”

“Only if you want me to.” He seemed nervous again, second-guessing. “For your club. We don’t have to–”

“I’d kiss you for free!” Beth steeled herself. There was no turning back now. “I don’t care about my club.” She shook her head. “I mean. I do, but I care about–”

Rick leaned forward and cupped her face with his big hands. He kissed her quiet. Beth gasped sharply, pressing herself closer to him. The wooden plank of the countertop dug into her dress belt. The happy tiny laugh from Rick wove into her heart. They pulled apart only to kiss again.

His low voice asked, “does this matter?”

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly. “This was what I was practicing for.”

#beth chapel #rick tyler #hournite #rick x beth #stargirl #hn fic #hournite week 22 #jealousy #fluff #tkv fic #hournite fic

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scotianostra · 1 year

Text

On 14th March 1952, the first TV programme was broadcast in Scotland.

The BBC’s new television studios, grandly called Broadcasting House, were located at 5 Queen Street. The invitation had specified “Dress -- Highland or Dinner Jacket”.

Guests included Scotland’s aristocratic and cultural elite all in their Highland attire, plus a handful of London-based BBC executives in Dinner Jackets who had ventured to their new outpost in what they saw as the frozen North.

In the main studio, the VIP audience was in the focus of live television cameras and the atmosphere was tense. The pictures on the monitor screens were small and horizontally lined, in black and white, but they reminded me of Robert Burns’s lines:

O wad some Pow'r the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us!

In his speech opening the transmitter, the Secretary of State for Scotland, the James Stuart, found the time to put in a good word for John Logie Baird. This was followed by a Prayer of Dedication by the Very Rev Charles L. Warr, Dean of the Thistle and Chapel Royal.

After a Vote of Thanks by James Miller, Lord Provost of Edinburgh, the stage was taken over by the first live television entertainment from Scotland: a performance by the Royal Scottish Country Dance Society, with Tim Wright and his band.

By 8 p.m. the studio was off the air and the tension relaxed. A buffet was opened and glasses of wine appeared while the guests watched the rest of the evening’s programme from London, starting with Television Newsreel.

It was seen by a large audience in England but the Scottish viewing numbers were small, with only 2730 licence holders on record as of March 14th 1952. The event saw crowds gather outside electric stores to watch the broadcast.

In Helensburgh, John Logie Baird’s birthplace, there were just ten licence holders. Television has become a mass medium changing Scottish life and culture for ever, but it has been a mixed blessing.

On the plus side, the old cathode ray tube sets with their small screens have been replaced by digital flat screens, with much larger and sharper pictures in colour. On the minus side, most of the small town cinemas in Scotland have closed; for example, Helensburgh has lost its two cinemas.

Five years later it was the turn of STV.

"This is Scotland" was an hour of entertainment, anchored by James Robertson Justice, to mark the opening of STV on August 31 1957. This was a far more elaborate show than the little 30 minute segment at BBC Scotland marking the opening of their television in 1952.

STV dispensed with dignitaries and there was no prayer of dedication, but instead a big variety show featuring singers and dancers and other celebrities including Alastair Sim, Ludovic Kennedy and Stanley Baxter.

The STV programme had Jimmy Logan in his prime, and a film clip from the south of France in which Deborah Kerr was interviewed with David Niven.

John Logie Baird was not forgotten; James Robertson Justice paid him an elaborate tribute and showed a replica of the early 'Televisor' set.

There was also an appearance of Jack Buchanan in the inevitable top hat and tails; leading the audience in a chorus of "I belong to Glasgow" Jack, unknown to most folk, was ill at the time, was to die of cancer just two months after the STV opening, so this must have been his last appearance.

#scotland #scottish #television #broadcasting #broadcasting history #history

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borntodie-94 · 8 months

Text

Derek Hale part 2

Part 10 of series

"We're about ten minutes away She just got sick, Scott are her treatments not working, why isn't she getting better?" He asked

Thud you had passed out, you fell to the left.

Beep beep beep

When you came to you were in the hospital. Scott, and Stiles were talking to mom, Stiles and Scott visibly shaken. Tears stained your moms face, you look at your left arm to see an IV and more tubes then you can count, on you right was a blood pressure cuff, and an oxygen sticker. Your mom walks away, the boys started to talk a bit more.

"So Derek was telling me to anchor myself to something to help control my anger, and it will help me with not shifting." Scott says

"Well I still don't trust him." Stiles announced in defense

"Just be careful scott." You say slightly sitting up, your eyes widen at the amount of pain that shoots through your body as you set up

"Y/n, how do you feel?" Scott asked approaching the bed

"OH like sun shine and rainbows." You mock rolling your eyes

Scott sat down on the bed, his eyes were blood shot red, he's been crying. Stiles stood his distant, but you could see the tears he fought so hard to keep hidden. You had an idea of what was wrong, and you were ok with it, you gave a weak smile at the boys. The nurse walked in with a fluid bag and some syringes full of medicine.

"Hello Miss.Mccall, this is so you stay hydrated and these are the medicine that goes with your treatment." She says showing you the syringes and bag of fluid

She hooks everything up and pushes what needs to go through your IV, she then leaves, a few minutes later your mom walks into your room.

"Hey, so we are going to start another treatment on top of this one." She says trying to fight the tears and choking on her words

"Can I ask what's wrong with you y/n?" Stiles ask

"Heart failure and kidney failure. It's been like this since we were little" You said looking at stiles

"Oh," He said using the sleeve of his jacket wiping his face

"They put you on the transplant list, but right now it's medication that will help slow down the process and dialysis for your kidneys." You mom said as she looked at all the medical supplies around you

"When do I get to leave?" You asked wanting to get out of the stuffy room

"Tonight, they'll discharge you tonight." Your mom said

You were ready to go home, you hated going to the hospital. After a few hours the nurse came back with new prescriptions and discharge papers, she took out your IV.

"So y/n next appointment you have is in a week and we're going you put a port on your chest so that giving you medication and dialysis will be easier." She said handing you the discharge papers

----skip

You woke up for school, and started getting ready. When a knock was at your door.

"Hey, mom said you are not going to school today after what happened last night." Scott said as he cracked the door open.

"This is stupid, I don't get why I can't go what the fuck." You said setting down your back pack.

Scott just shrugged and walked away, you thought for a minute on what you could do today, you were going to bike to the old Hale house, and meet Derek and see what he really wanted with your brother. You waited an hour before heading to his house. When you arrived you stopped a good twenty feet and dropped you bike behind a tree. It looked like no one wad hoke, no car out front. You walk up to the front porch, didn't bother knocking you thought no one was there. You walked in leaving the door ajar. The hake house was in shambles, the fire had done number on that house so many years ago. Some floor boards were caved in, cobwebs hung and dangled from the rafters. You heard story's growing up of why the fire had happened, each one worse then the last.

"Who are you, And what are you doing in my house!" A booming voice shot from the top of the stairs. Your eyes shot to the stairs to see a silhouette of a man illuminated by the sun.

"What do you want with my brother scott!" You shouted. The man jumped from the stairs to the floor.

"You're Scott's sister, I don't see the resemblance." He said squinting and circling you.

"I'll ask again, before I kick your ass. What the hell do you want with my brother!" You screeched

"I want him in my pack." Derek said as he looked you up and down, he garbed your arm and his veins turned black, he winced and grunted in pain, as your pain started to disappear. " You wouldn't be able to kick my ass you're into much pain McCall." Derek said as he took his hand off your arm.

"One, thank you for whatever you just did, second you can call me y/n, three my brother would never you join your pack." You declared staring deep into his eyes

"How would Scott feel if he found out his best friend and his sister were fucking, before you ask how I know this you reek of stiles." He said through clenched teeth.

You looked at him in dismay, you couldn't trust him. How could your brother trust him, you walk at of his house back to your bike and head home. Scott would be home in three hours, you were going to do more research on werewolves wail you were waiting for him to get home. 3 hours had passed, you hadn't heard Scott come home, until he opened your door seeing you pack a bag to go somewhere for the night.

"Where are you going?" He asked

"Imma go stay at Lydia's tonight, is that ok." You replied

"I don't care, let mom know, and don't forget your medication, have fun don't be stupid." He says walking away

"I'm not leaving yet, I'll leave at 9, I have to make dinner so you can take some to mom!" You yelled after him

The truth is that your weren't going to spend the night at Lydia's, you were going to spend the night at stiles, you knew he wouldn't be home at 9, so you were going to surprise him. Dinner took longer than you thought by the time you were done it was already 8pm. You let Scott know dinner wad done, then you grabbed your bag and went out to your bike, and rode to stiles's. Mr. Stilinski's car wasn't there nor was Stiles jeep, you knew the door was locked, but stiles never locked his window. There was this old tree that you and the boys use to climb out onto from Stiles’s window, you climb the tree, your bag on your back. You came to the branch that reached his window, you lifted the window open and threw your bag onto his floor before crawling in through the window. You fell to the floor with a thump.

#stiles smut #romance #teen wolf #fluff #stiles stilinski

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i-am-phoenix-rose · 2 years

Text

Is this actual love or is it lust? Is there really a way to know for sure?

I think, there is just the one:

Time.

Time tells all, but how do I tell the time?

When I'm texting you for five minutes but it's actually five hours, who is controlling my clock?

When I'm dreaming about you for a year but it's actually just a day, how am I to know what day it actually is?

When I've known you for ten seconds but lived 10 years in your soul, how am I supposed to know how long I have already waited? How long I will still need to wait?

I cannot breathe around you.

My breath is hitched and stuck at the very top of my lungs, the very bottom of my throat,

Wadded up and jammed there like a ball of cotton and emotions.

Suffocating, but comforting.

Terrifying, but thrilling.

My skin has forgotten how to sit still.

It jumps and crawls and shivers under your words alone,

Just imagining what it would be like to be touched by you,

Held by you,

Loved

By you.

Wise men say only fools rush in,

But I've also been told that love makes a fool out of all of us.

So what's the next best move?

What's the next best thing to say?

I spin and I sing and I twirl like a little girl under your words and flattery and the way that you understand my thoughts and my brain and

And tell me that it's okay

To just

Be.

I have craved this.

I have missed this.

And now you give it to me,

From a thousand miles away.

East coast, west coast, no coast,

Give it time and I'll be just toast.

Time.

I hate it.

I love it.

I hate waiting.

I love anticipating.

But is there something for me to anticipate?

Is it worth the tension,

The deliberation,

The risk that comes with letting you in, little by little, and letting you see the real me?

Will there be a reward in the end for my

Vulnerability

And patience?

Time knows.

But time doesn't tell.

This is the greatest gamble that we play.

The gamble of our hearts,

Our souls,

Our time.

I want to spend my time on you.

I want to spend my time with you.

I want to know that it is time well spent.

If only we had just a little more insight

Into what that time will look like

In the end.

#time #phoenix rose #poetry #love #lust #waiting #impatiently

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m39 · 1 month

Text

Doom WADs’ Roulette (2008): Chex Quest 3

Well, folks... This is it... This is the reason why I reviewed both Chex Quest 1 and 2 before tackling this one.

After over a decade since the last Chex Quest game, people thought there was no Chex Quest 3...

They were proven wrong.

G8: Chex Quest 3

Main author(s): Charles Jacobi (Chukker)

Release date: 2008

Version(s) played: 1.4

Required port compatibility: ZDoom

Levels: 5 (E3M1-M5)

Out of the ashes of Digital Cafe comes the official Chex Quest 3, and sweeps out one of the Cacowards.

But first things first – how did this game come to fruition? Well, back in 2003, one of the WAD makers, Boingo the Clown, asked one of the Digital Café employees, Charles Jacobi, if the latter could do some artwork for the WAD project called Ultimate Chex Quest. Charles, after playing what was made of that WAD at the time, has resparked the interest in this franchise in himself. In late 2007, he showed a sketch of a new Flemoid that would later become one of the new enemies in Chex Quest 3, and people enjoyed it.

The lead artist of Digital Café eventually wanted to make a new episode instead of a new set of maps. And with the help of a couple more guys who worked in the same company + others, Chex Quest 3 was released in 2008.

it has been a decade since the invasion of Flemoids. Everything seems to be at peace. Unfortunately, those alien bastards want that damn, A+ quality food Federation has so they launch a complete invasion on the planet Ralston (that’s either the capital planet of the Federation, or probably where Chextropolis is, or maybe even both, I don’t know). Chex Warrior, while stationed at the central command station that’s overrun by Flemoids, jumps into the ship and flies to the planet, trying to save his people from these slime bastards one last time.

If you didn’t read my two previous reviews, I will be playing the GZDoom port of Chex Quest 3, simply for better performance.

Let’s take a look at this episode, and see the conclusion of Chex Quest.

When compared to the previous Chex Quest games, this one is on a whole other level. It’s a gigantic leap in quality. Sure, it’s mostly due to the fact that over a decade passed since the second game so the standards and/or experience in WAD making has increased, but take a look at the locations in this game. It’s not just one overall area like the base on a mining planet or metropolis with few landmarks; it feels like you are traveling all over the world and then some before even reaching the planet.

You start at a space station, then respectively land on a command base, use the metro system to get into the Italy-inspired town (with an orchard that you find upon reaching half of the map), and even visit a national park with a couple of log cabins; and it all ends with a mothership meteor that you get inside and teleport every last Flemoid out of it.

The music in CQ3 also peaked as well. Andrew Benon who created music for the previous games came back for the final time, now with help from Sabrina DiDuro, who made four tracks for this game. I feel like almost all of it sounds engaging and epic, with Chancer being the best one out of the last batch of tracks.

It’s not really worth talking much about the levels’ design. It’s basically similar to what was in the previous games, with some annoying backtracking and one section with a maze (this time at least you are looking for a key).

Here is also something that I didn’t mention in my last two reviews – all of the Chex Quest games don’t show you the amount of ammo to the rest of the guns that you don’t use at the moment. It gets kind of annoying that in order to actually see the ammo amount, you have to switch to another weapon. It might be a nitpick, but it’s frustrating for me.

Chex Quest 3 is harder than Chex Quest 2, there is no doubt. I wouldn’t call it hard per say, you can still finish it without saving or getting hit, but the chance for that is much smaller compared to the previous installments.

The only actual hard moment in this game is when you reach the motherbase meteor in the fourth map and you fight lost soul replacements. It’s more annoying than legitimately hard since you think you are done and you suddenly get rammed by another one of those buggers (and there are 37 of these on this map).

What this game has compared to the previous one is actual new enemies that are not just reskins of the old ones. And while Super Cycloptis, Flem Mine, and Lord Snotfolus are basically replacements for Cacos, the aforementioned lost souls, and the cyberdemon, Stridicus is a faster Pinky with 1.5 of its health, and Flembomination is a boss monster that constantly shoots a volley of two slime balls until it flinches.

While I do recommend trying the GZDoom version of this game, it makes the last map unplayable due to the bug that makes it so it doesn’t register the picked-up keys; both the new flemkeys, and the regular ones. Thankfully, the give keys command seems to work and allows you to finish this map. Like I said just a moment ago, it might be the effect of the GZDoom port since from some of the footage I saw, I don’t think it affects the original version.

Ignoring the key bug in the GZDoom port, Chex Quest 3 is a great conclusion to the trilogy, offering the hardest, and prettiest episode from the original developers.

As for the entire trilogy, Chex Quest as a whole is a lot of fun that starts relatively good, and it gets better as you go further with installments. Like I said in the past, CQ3 has all games in one WAD file, so you don’t have to check what the original versions were (although I won’t stop you from checking them out).

If you are interested in more of the stuff dedicated to Chex Quest, check some YouTube videos (especially the one from AVGN for the fun factor).

And that, folks, marks the end of the journey through the world of Chex Quest. I’ll see you next time.

#doom #chex quest #review #chex quest 3 #doom wads’ roulette #cacowards #2008 #top ten wads of the year

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broken-footstool · 2 years

Note

Story where Innocent Fem Robin walks in on Intersex PC collecting milk and "milk" for her hot cocoa stand.

I had to do research for this. Like, genuine research

Winter was always Alexis’s favorite time of the year. From the crunchy snow that fell in thick sheets to the inevitable days off of school because of said snow. The whole town turned into a winter wonderland and it was almost enough to make a person forget how nightmarish it was to live there. Almost. Aside from the beautiful scenery and free time, there was one thing Alexis loved most about the freezing cold season: Robin’s hot chocolate stand. Every winter, she would transition from selling ice cold lemonade to rich, creamy hot chocolate. And every winter, Alexis was tasked with preparing the whipped cream.

Now, a normal person would just go to the store, buy a few cans of whipped cream, and call it a day. But Alexis wasn’t a normal person. Behind their cool, calm exterior lie a sexual deviant. One that had a knack for adding their own “special touch” to certain foods. And one of those foods was whipped cream. Robin never knew about their personal addition. In fact, no one did. Neither the orphans nor the townsfolk had suspected anything was wrong with their “creamy” topping. It was a fun game that Alexis liked to play each year, and this year wasn’t going to be any different.

“Alexis!” Robin called, lacing the tops of her boots. “Can you come here, please?”

There was a spring in Alexis’s step as they came down the hall. His makeshift blanket robe flapped around his frame, gliding across the floor with the same enthusiasm as them. Alexis knew what he was about to be asked and had been waiting for this moment all week. The first flurry of sleet and ice had graced their area, and he was ready.

“Yes, my wonderful business partner?” They leaned against Robin’s open door, throwing their blanket with a flare before entering her room.

“I’m opening my hot cocoa stand later today and need some whipped cream.” Grabbing a pair of tattered mittens from the night stand, Robin flashed Alexis a smile. “Could you make me some?”

A cheshire grin spread across Alexis’s and they fought to keep their emotions hidden.

“I would be more than happy to.” They said with a smirk.

Robin placed a small wad of cash in her coat pocket and slid past Alexis. Alexis followed close behind, chattering excitedly about the shift in weather and temperature. They hoped the conversation would be boring enough to push Robin out the door faster, and it partially worked. When Robin reached the front door, she pulled the scarf around her neck up over her mouth and turned to Alexis one last time.

“Please don’t let Mable get into the cream again.” Robin instructed, although her voice was partially muffled. “And actually put it in the fridge when you’re done.”

With that, she stepped out of the orphanage and into the cold. Gleefully closing the door behind her, Alexis rushed to the kitchen. On the counter was a stand mixer and some vanilla extract. The milk and whipping cream must have been chilling in the fridge. Alexis removed the bowl from the mixer and placed it down on the floor, placing a foot on either side of it. The special ingredient was the most difficult part of making the whipped cream, but also the most enjoyable. Alexis stuck a hand down the front of their pants and checked to make sure no one was around. The orphanage was nearly empty, with half of the residents outside in the snow, so they didn’t have to be so cautious. Robin wouldn’t be back for another ten minutes, which gave Alexis all the time they needed.

Biting down on their shirt, Alexis slid their pants and underwear down to their knees. They grunted gently, chewing their shirt collar to help stifle their noises as they got to work. While there was ample time to do what was needed, Alexis wanted this part over and done with as soon as possible. The less time they spent exposed in the open, the less likely they were to get caught. Alexis sloppily began to fuck their hand, leaking a bit of precum along the rim of the bowl. A lewd warmth washed over their blushed face and they gradually sped up, drooling through the fabric. Stamina was never something that Alexis had a lot of, but they were capable of producing more than enough fluids in a short amount of time. All they needed to do was focus.

They adjusted their stance so there was enough room to fully thrust their hips. The trickle of precum was now more of a steady flow, signaling that Alexis was getting closer with each movement of his hips. Their stomach knotted and burned with pleasure, and Alexis was ready to go over the edge. Squatting over the bowl, Alexis squeezed their eyes tight and focused only on finishing.

Robin dropped her grocery bag on the floor, staring in both disgust and horror. She didn’t break eye contact with Alexis as they filled the metal bowl with their semen, moaning into their shirt. The sound of the bag hitting the ground caused Alexis to turn and make direct eye contact with her. Without looking, Alexis made their way to the sink slowly, fixing their pants before washing their hands. Robin couldn’t look away, the image of what she just saw burned deep into her mind.

“I know this looks bad.” Alexis dried his hands before placing them on Robin’s shoulders. “People pay a lot of money for extra cream and you know that. It’s profitable.”

“It’s wrong,” Robin retaliated. In the back of her mind, she knew that Alexis was right, but she didn’t want to admit it. Her hot cocoa stand was supposed to be a pure place that served warm drinks on a cold day.

“It’s a life saver. You’ve been earning enough money to keep Bailey happy, right?” Tightening their hold on Robin’s shoulders, Alexis hoped that his argument would be enough to convince Robin that what they were doing wasn’t wrong.

It seemed to be working, because Robin didn’t respond at first. She was lost in thought, contemplating the good and bad of the situation. Robin did earn the bulk of her cash during the winter, that much was true. And her customers did seem to really enjoy the homemade whipped cream. As long as no one else knew, maybe, just maybe, it was okay.

“One condition.” Robin crossed her arms and swallowed, mentally preparing herself for the next words out of her mouth. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“I would rather die than have anyone know.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Robin walked away without another word, picking up her bag before disappearing down the hall. Once she was out of eyesight, Alexis collapsed to their knees, tightly gripping their chest. Their mind couldn’t comprehend how a plan that dumb worked, but it didn’t matter. They still had to make the whipped cream if they wanted to help Robin make any sort of money.

#anon ask #dol robin #robin the orphan #dol pc #anon request

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bettyfrommars · 3 months

Note

Itching for more biker!steve😆

you read my mind

I've been thinking about him so much, everything else is on temporary hold until I can get a first chapter out. It's going to be gritty and wild, and I can't wait.

Here is a little sneak peek to the beginning of our biker Steve story Ring of Fire (has not been edited, and I might switch some details around, but anyway, I'm happy you mentioned it anon)

18+ONLY

The bell on the door dinged to announce a customer, but you didn’t look up right away, you were too busy trying to figure out why your till was a few bucks short for the day. Donovan would not be happy. Heavy foot falls made it to the counter and then the person in question cleared his throat.

“Ten on pump 2 and a pack of reds,” the voice was deep and scratchy, like he was recovering from a sore throat.

You closed the cash register and glanced up for the first time.

The view made you inhale a sharp breath and hold it. The man before you had on a thick motorcycle jacket zipped up halfway over a white tee atop blue jeans that were a dark denim wash, faded over time, with a tattered hole in one knee. There were tattoos scattered over his flesh, peeking from his collar, and down his hands. Letters on his knuckles spelled something, but you couldn’t quite make it out, and didn’t want to reveal that you cared. He had a crazy mop of maplewood hair on his head that looked like it had once been gelled into place but lost the fight hours ago. He raked a big hand through it slowly, pausing halfway through the movement, and tucked his chin to pin you with an anticipatory stare.

The last person you ever expected to see again after all those years was Steve Harrington.

He pushed his wayfarer sunglasses up to reveal hazel eyes that were just as sad as they were electric. Swiping the tip of his tongue over his top lip, he coughed into his fist and repeated himself. “Pump 2?”

You gave a flustered wave of your hand. “Sorry, of course,” you turned to pull a soft pack from the wall behind you. “Matches?”

He shook his head, and then, “just a sec,” before sauntering over to the aisle on the other side of the potato chips.

Tossing a pack of Magnum condoms on the counter next to his smokes, he dug his wallet out of his back pocket and said a polite, “those too, please.” The wallet was as worn as his jeans and connected by a chain to one of his belt loops.

“You new here?” He asked as you passed him his change. He rolled a piece of gum from the inside of his cheek to start chewing it again.

You stumbled over the question. “New to this store or Hawkins?”

He shrugged, a smirk lifting up one side of his mouth. “Both, I guess?”

He was well aware that you were new to the corner gas n’ sip because he’d been a regular customer for years, and he definitely would have remembered you.

Definitely.

Yet, something about you felt very familiar.

“I grew up here,” you admitted dryly.

Steve tilted his head back to assess you down the bridge of his nose and frowned like he didn’t believe you.

#Ring of Fire #biker!steve

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fraink5-writes · 9 months

Text

In the Names of Freedom - Chapter 16

Hello, everyone! The next chapter is here!

Thanks, of course, to the fabulous @leio13!

Summary: After confirming the death of his latest target, Xiao’s secret mission is interrupted by an eccentric stranger in green, who claims to be Xiao’s protector! But the reality is much more convoluted… What destiny could possibly link Xiao with Venti—an assassin of hitmen?

This chapter can also be found on Ao3 here. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Stone Gate was a large town scaling the cliff that separated Liyue from Mondstadt. At the top, there was a police station that served as a border checkpoint. Because everyone was forced to stop at the border and the police were unreasonably lax, the town, outside of housing new tourists, had a reputation as a haven for criminals: runaways, smugglers and traffickers who had just or were about to cross the border to safety. That had led to much of Stone Gate’s prosperity until about ten years ago when the town’s growth stagnated. If anything, according to what Morax had told Xiao, it was probably in decline, but there was always a need for a hideaway, so it would never completely fade. From what Xiao gathered, the police did little about the situation either way. Their blind eye allowed the town to grow along with their pockets.

It was those same police whose office Xiao and Venti would be visiting. "So, that's the building." Venti pointed when they were a close distance away. "It's ten in the morning and that's a border checkpoint. How do you plan on getting in?"

"Simple." When Venti had last visited, he probably used a stealthier method more suited for one person in the dead of night, but Xiao had prepared an easier plan. "We just walk in."

"Huh?"

Xiao didn't wait for Venti's brain to pick up the slack. Instead, he just marched ahead. "Excuse me." He approached one of the guards. "We are private detectives from Liyue Harbor sent by Senior Officer Keqing. We would like access to your facilities." He produced a simple form with Keqing's forged signature.

"Is that all?" The disinterested guard asked.

"No." Xiao reached into a pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash, placing it in the guards hands. "Don't tell anyone about this and don't ask any questions."

The guard quickly counted the money before pocketing it. "I understand. Right this way, sirs."

As soon as the guard had left Xiao and Venti alone in the restricted area, Venti let out a laugh. "A request from that Keqing??"

"It's obviously fake," Xiao mumbled. "What's so funny about that? Do you know her or something?"

"Me? Not personally, no, but everyone in this field's heard of her. Her uptight interpretation of the law is a huge thorn in the sides of many powerful people. It's only a matter of time before someone gets rid of her."

"Well, she's on your tracks, so I'd be careful too if I were you."

Venti blinked once then grinned. "Thanks for looking out for me!"

"It's nothing, really…" Xiao preoccupied his eyes by scanning the room. "Can you find this file again?"

"Sure." Venti sat in front of the computer in the archives room. "It should be here." With that, he began hacking into the computer all while humming, muttering and even singing as he went along.

In the spare moment, Xiao examined the select cases that had physical copies on the shelves. The last ten years really were barren compared to the decades before. The final spike in crime was… twelve years ago. Was that why Morax was in the area when he found Xiao? A large chunk of the files had been bundled together with a sticky note reading "Decarabian Collapse." Decarabian… The name was familiar to Xiao, and he had no idea why. From the sound of it, it was related to Mondstadt, which Xiao had no relations to, so then why…?

The onset of a dull headache was quickly interrupted by a whine from Venti. "Aaaaaaaarghhh…"

Xiao pushed his own curiosities aside. "What is it?"

"I can't find it…" Venti's head lightly hit the table in resignation.

Xiao shuffled over to peer at the same screen as Venti. "Let me see."

"Look, this is where I found it last time, April from twelve years ago. But when I look for a file involving the Adepti Agency…"

A single case popped up. "And that's not it…?"

"No, it's not."

"It does say 'unknown boy'—"

"It says he was murdered, Xiao."

Oh… Xiao had admittedly failed to read that far. So then, the other case Morax was investigating at the same time was a murder…? The thought churned Xiao's stomach. He clutched his forehead.

After clicking through a few menus, Venti swiveled around. "Xiao…? What's wrong? You look really pale…"

"I-it's noth—" Xiao couldn't manage the lie. "I just need a minute."

"...Is it about the other… case?"

"I didn't realize that the other case was a murder…"

"Oh." Venti's face fell. "Sorry I didn't tell you… but… well… You should be glad you didn't become another nameless victim."

Venti was probably right; still, Xiao couldn't shake the weird survivor's guilt nagging at him. "Anyway, let's keep looking." He channeled all his attention to the computer screen, which was currently conducting a long search. "It hasn't been moved?"

"No, I checked for other instances of the Adepti Agency elsewhere, but I've had no luck finding this particular case… I'm currently searching for backups, but… I'm not optimistic…"

Xiao could only wait with bated breath.

'0 results found.' That was the ultimate search result.

"Looks like whoever last accessed the file was extremely thorough about deleting it," Venti concluded.

"When?" Xiao grimaced. "Why…?"

"I know you wanted to see it, Xiao, but look on the bright side, whoever deleted it did you something of a favor. Now there's one less copy of dangerous information about you in circulation."

"But we don't know if they copied it or what else they did with it."

Venti seemed to abandon his cheer-up efforts with a sigh. "Why don't we take a break and have lunch? Maybe we'll find something useful around town…"

"Fine." Although Xiao doubted Venti's reasoning, he knew that just standing around wasn't going to change what happened.

***

The lunch spot Xiao and Venti settled on was a simple tea stand with a balcony overlooking the view of Liyue. Xiao and Venti were just one of many duos seated by the Vista. Shortly after they had sat down, an old lady approached their table. "Hello, I will take your orders."

Venti began, "I'll have—"

Xiao had seen Venti's eyes flirting with the alcohol listing. As if he'd let that happen. "We'll both have Pops Zhou's signature tea, please."

"O-okay. I'll be back with two cups of tea." The old lady shuffled away.

Venti glared at Xiao. "Why didn't you let me order?"

"It's my money, and I'm not going to let you start drinking again."

"But we're so close to Mondstadt! They have Dandelion Wine!! From the Dawn Winery!!!"

Xiao didn't understand Venti's whining nor did he care. "We're at a tea shop."

Venti pouted, but he didn't argue.

Soon after, the waitress returned with the tea. "Would you two like anything with your tea…?"

"I'm fine." Xiao didn't know enough about the establishment to eat their food.

"We'll have four of the grilled tiger fish skewers—" Venti grinned more at Xiao than at the old woman—"to share."

"Of course." Once again, the woman left in a hurry.

"What are you doing?" Xiao scowled.

"We're here to eat lunch, remember?" Venti snapped back.

"You can eat, but—"

"You especially need to eat. You'll feel better when you do. I know, I know—you can't eat at unfamiliar places… That's why I'll try it first, you see?"

Xiao sighed. At the very least, he could appreciate Venti's sentiment.

After a few minutes, the waitress placed the food between Xiao and Venti with a nearly inaudible mumble "I'm sorry for disturbing you."

Venti just shrugged. Then he scooted his chair to be closer to Xiao and grabbed a skewer. He bit in without hesitation. "Mmm! How tasty!" He nudged the plate in Xiao's direction. "You should try some too."

Xiao ignored the plate. "It's too soon."

"Ooor you can eat it when it's cold—suit yourself!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Xiao watched as Venti slowly picked at the rest of the skewer. The remainder of his gaze traveled listlessly between the table and the view. He noted that some of the other tables and even the waitstaff were eyeing their table in anticipation.

When Venti had finished cleaning the first skewer, he began a second one with equally excruciating speed. Halfway through, he peeked up from his plate. He spoke softly, "Xiao…"

"What?"

"...You're thinking about that other case, aren't you…?"

Xiao just nodded, hoping Venti would take the hint and drop it.

"Actually… about that case… I can te—"

"This isn't the time for that." Xiao glanced around. "Look around you; everybody's staring."

"And you know why… right?"

Probably because they had caused a scene earlier, but it was possible they were spies. Someone must have anticipated Xiao and Venti's arrival in Stone Gate; that's why they deleted the one file Xiao was searching for…

Venti answered his own question: "We look like a fighting couple."

From that lens, Venti was an especially effective actor. With drooping shoulders and downcast eyes, he truly looked like he had been wronged. Xiao almost felt bad. "So," Xiao whispered, "what do you want me to do?"

"Well, you can at least eat."

Fine. A sufficient amount of time had probably passed since Venti first tried the tea and skewers, and he hadn't displayed any symptoms of poisoning. Xiao's head, on the other hand, was really beginning to pound. He gulped down the lukewarm tea and then forcefully swallowed some of the fish along with his reservations. He finished off the meal rather quickly. "So, now what?"

"Now we make up!"

Make up? "But we weren't even fighting…"

"Like this." Venti made sure to enunciate each word: "I'm sorry, Xiao, for making sure you take care of your body."

"I'm not sorry for keeping you away from alcohol."

Venti's obnoxious grin twitched slightly. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, should we head back to the hotel?"

"Yeah." Xiao stood awkwardly. "Actually, I feel better now… Um, thank you, Venti, for making me eat. It, uh, helped."

"Of course!" Venti's lips broke into a full grin. "What did I tell you? But I still think we should return to the hotel to review what we know."

"Okay." Xiao was happy to put an end to the awkward lunch. "Let's go then."

"Mmhmm!"

Xiao left the dining area with Venti trailing shortly behind him, but unfortunately, Venti wasn't the only one. Shortly after they vacated their table, an unknown woman in purple did too. While that alone could've been dismissed as coincidence, Xiao's suspicions were confirmed after a few blocks when she was still a few meters behind him.

At first, Xiao tried walking faster to outpace the follower. However, Venti, who was always overly laid back, was quick to object to the change after he fell several paces behind. "Waaait!" he called out. If he actually put in an effort, he could be swifter than Xiao, so Xiao refused to let up. "Hey!" Venti pouted, now walking briskly at Xiao's side. "Say something next time?"

But they weren't in a position where Xiao could admit he knew they were being followed. He stared at Venti, only briefly glancing behind him when he had met Venti's gaze.

Venti, for his part, made no effort to look back. He sighed. "Fine."

Even if he ignored my hints, at least he's going along—or so Xiao was happy to think until Venti suddenly grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers.

"Now you can't do that again!" Venti's eyes glimmered with fiendish delight.

At first Xiao lamented the results of his actions, but he quickly changed strategies to maximize the new development. Leading Venti by the hand he had willingly surrendered, Xiao abruptly pulled Venti around one corner then immediately around another into a small alley. They needed to disappear. Quickly. He pressed Venti as far as he could into the wall. Not much could be done about Xiao's appearance, but Venti could handle a few modifications. Xiao plucked the hat off Venti's head, pressing it into Venti's hand, then with his free hand (the other was still cradled by Venti's fingers), he combed the braids from Venti's hair. "Hide your face." He looked Venti in the face. His glossy lips curled into a beguiling smile, and his blue eyes seemed to hold the entire sky inside them, with Xiao in the center. Oh. To Venti, when Xiao had pinned him to the wall and ran his fingers through his hair… Well, Xiao didn’t want to think about how Venti must have interpreted it. Hot regret pumped from Xiao's heart through his arteries all the way up to his cheeks. "S-someone is comin—following, so…" He could barely stammer out the necessary words.

"I know." Venti whispered. He undid his cape and threw it and the hat a meter away, deeper in the dead-end alley. "I can alter my appearance a bit, but maybe you should hide your face."

Then they were on the same page. Xiao wanted nothing more than to hide his face—especially from Venti. But Venti's solution was not one Xiao would have chosen: meshing his fingers in Xiao's hair, he softly pressed Xiao's face into the corner of his neck and collarbone. From his new position, he could hear Venti's warm breathing against the exposed part of his own neck and feel his steady heartbeat, calming and electrifying at the same time.

"She's coming." Venti's words tickled Xiao's skin. His hand jumped from in Xiao's hair to in between his shoulder blades, pulling him closer.

Footsteps approached the alley entrance.

Venti's hand slid lower, his legs tangling with Xiao's. Xiao's heart stopped.

"Ugh." A female voice scoffed. Then the footsteps resumed. As her presence faded away, Xiao heard her mutter (probably into a phone), "Anyway, I'm going ahead to the hotel."

After a frozen minute, Venti released Xiao from his tight embrace, and Xiao could finally breathe normally again.

"We should probably return to our hotel too." Venti chimed up. Xiao couldn’t agree more; he needed time and privacy to process everything that happened that day. But he struggled to act on his approval; he couldn’t move his tongue to speak, much less his whole body. Without letting go of Xiao's hand, Venti dragged Xiao to pick up his discarded belongings. He muttered to himself, "These are going to need to be washed," before leading the way towards the hotel.

"Still, I can't believe how red your face got!" Venti teased as they walked. "

"How was I supposed to react to that?" Having already been subjected to Venti's physical affection, Xiao was feeling defensive.

"I mean, what happened to 'I just want to follow you home, lay you bare, and have my way with you'?"

Xiao's cheeks nearly caught fire. "Th-that was different!"

"Really?" Venti feigned confusion. "How so?"

Xiao was certain it was different, but faced with Venti's question, he couldn't pin it down. Instead, he struggled to slip away from Venti's grasp.

While squirming in vain, someone familiar caught Xiao's eyes. Long, brown hair tied back in a ponytail. Piercing amber eyes. "Zh—Mo—Zh-Zhongli!" He quickly tore his hand free.

Zhongli nodded reassuringly. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Xiao.” He turned to face Venti with a quizzical look. “...And this is…?”

Xiao expected Venti to enthusiastically introduce himself, but, for some reason, he looked as stunned as Xiao, so Xiao ended up stepping in. "This is my tour guide for my trip to Mondstadt. We agreed to meet in Stone Gate."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Venti chimed in.

"Yes…" Zhongli nodded again, very slowly this time. Then he shook his head. "For some reason, you look familiar, but it must be my mistake."

"Oh well, I am a bard, so perhaps you've seen me perform! I've performed in Liyue Harbor a few times."

"Is that so? That must be it."

"If you'd like, I can perform for you—and Xiao, of course—to celebrate this occasion?"

"No, that'll be quite alright. I'm sure Xiao is keeping you busy already."

"Oh, no, traveling with him has been a pleasure!"

"I'm glad to hear that. Unfortunately, I am quite busy myself, but since I did unexpectedly meet you here, Xiao, I would like to have a word."

"Of course," Xiao replied immediately.

Zhongli turned his focus back to Venti. "I hope you understand."

"Oh, yes, certainly. It's not at all a problem. I was just going to go back to the hotel and plan how Xiao and I would spend the rest of our time here."

"Great. Thank you."

"Then I'll be off~!" Venti nearly skipped off, but Xiao grabbed his arm.

"Venti," Xiao breathed. He brought his mouth to Venti's ear. "Stay at the hotel and do not start drinking."

"Sure thing, boss." With a wink, Venti took off.

#Genshin Impact #Xiaoven #Xiao #Venti

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