#half of these are in a giant pile on my bedside table...

[good--merits-accumulated]

Domestic Anderperry headcanons

As requested by @aj-scott725 - thanks AJ! :] These are all kind of nebulously post-canon.

- When Todd gets into a new poem/body of work, he doesn't tend to gush about it; instead he gets into a dreamy state for a few days and leaves books lying around with pen scribbles all over the pages. Neil gets into the habit of collecting them so he doesn't lose track of them, putting them on their bedside table, and making a note of them so he can read them too

- Neil gets it into his head to learn how to swing dance one summer, and they spend a couple of weeks twirling each other around the living room. It doesn't go awfully well (Todd has two left feet and almost cracks his head open by falling over the sofa), but they're not half bad at it either. Sometimes their downstairs neighbour Mrs. Springer will play Rachmaninoff on the piano and they'll leave the windows open so the music gets in and dance around and around the room

- Todd falls asleep in a couple of minutes every time he gets on any type of transportation without fail. The first time it happens in a taxi they're still young and afraid and when the driver glances for half a second too long at them in the rearview mirror, at Todd's head on Neil's shoulder and the way Neil curves around him unconsciously, Neil stiffens and glares. But by the time the taxi arrives he and the driver have spent ten minutes talking quietly about their boyfriends to each other (the driver is "practically engaged, can you believe it" to a journalist named Martin in Syracuse, and he reminds him "just of your guy, they're exactly like each other, the wheels start going and they're out like lights"). They shake hands as he gently ushers a half-awake Todd out of the taxi and he never sees that driver again, but the memory remains a small golden jewel in Neil's mind

- Neil is unequivocally on washing up duty, because Todd can't stand feeling wet food in the sink. To make up for it he cleans the bathroom, although this also because it helps him think - not uncommon for Neil to come home from rehearsal to find him with their giant flowery cleaning gloves on scrubbing at the toilet bowl, dictating poems to a voice recorder. He proposes Todd dedicate his first poetry collection "to my darling husband and the porcelain god" and gets kicked out of the bedroom for a night for his troubles

- The apartment's heating is kind of shitty (read: the landlord refuses to fix it) so they sleep with three blankets all piled up on top of each other. Neil, who runs cold, isn't too concerned about the whole thing. Todd pretends to complain about it but secretly he loves the comforting pressure (God, have weighted blankets been invented yet? Can we get him one?) and sleeps with the blankets pulled to his chin and his face pressed into the crook of Neil's neck for maximum coverage. This also works in the mornings because he doesn't like the sun's glare, so Neil will often sleepily put a hand over his eyes before he wakes up so it doesn't bother him

[night-dark-woods]

current to-read list in no particular order (asterisked are bc seth dickinson mentions them in the reddit ama...)

haunting of hill house

left hand of darkness (reread)

eros the bittersweet - anne carson

autobiography of red - anne carson

antigone & antigonick - anne carson (first is a translation, as much as any of her work can be considered strictly such, second is a version)

(i also have the greek but thats. a long term project.)

grief lessons - anne carson

the illiad: a new translation by caroline alexander

*authority & acceptance (books 2 and 3 of the southern reach trilogy after annihilation)

*blindsight - peter watts

*the luminous dead - caitlin starling

*the devourers - indra das

*the cartographers - peng shepherd (seth mentions a different book, but i wasnt grabbed by the premise, but this one sounds rly cool)

*downbelow station - cj cherryh

*ninefox gambit - yoon ha lee

three body problem - liu cixin (even tho i keep trying to read the beginning at the bookstore and not getting sucked in)

a broken blade - melissa blair (ya book for fun)

broken earth series - n k jemison

how to hide an empire: a history of the greater united states - daniel immerwahr

the bright ages: a new history of medieval europe

on looking: eleven walks with expert eyes - alexandra horowitz

ancillary justice - ann leckie (finally lol)

why fish don't exist - lulu miller

caliban's war - james s a corey (maybe. the first book was. predictable and tropey in a very fun way BUT so clearly SciFi Written By A Man)(two men, in fact)

gardens of the moon - steven erikson (fourth(???) time's the charm to actually read the full series?)

assassin's quest - robin hobb (maybe. i may give up and dnf this book about the whiniest protag since holden caulfield)

what moves the dead - t kingfisher

too like the lightning - ada palmer

[justasillyoldfox]

Oh No He's Hot

♡The title was a joke, but I don't know what else to call it. He's my favorite vice admiral aside from Garp and he needs more attention with the men

♡Smoker x Narcoleptic!Vice Admiral!Male!Reader

WARNINGS: Fluff

♡You were trying to get your work done when you were feeling very tired, you had eventually succumb to your drowsiness and passed out on your desk. Smoker was searching the building to find you. He finally found you sleeping on your desk, he sighed through his nose. He walked over to you, stopped in front of your desk.

♡"Vice Admiral {L/N}, wake up," he said while shaking your shoulder, you opened your eyes lazily and looked up at him. You both stared at each other for a bit before you yawned, bringing small tears to the corners of your eyes, you rubbed away the tears and looked him, still tired. "Ah Vice Admiral Smoker, what brings you to my office?" you asked, "I came for the papers about the recent mishap that happened with a few of my soldiers," he practically demanded. "Ah those papers, yes," you said while looking around the small pile of your desk before remembering that they were in your left drawer.

♡You handed him the papers and he took it with his free hand since the other was in his pockets. He looked at you expectedly, you ran a hand through your hair and sighed before leaning back into your chair, "If you want to say something Smoker-kun, say it," you said while staring at him with tired eyes and a small frown. "I don't have anything to say to you {L/N}," he said as he walked out of your office.

♡You sighed heavily before attempting to finish the small piles of papers on your desk. Once Smoker was out of your office he was grumbling and mumbling all the way back to his office. Once he reached his office he threw the papers on his desk and slammed his hands on the table, 'God how am I this weak around him,' he had thought with an angry blush covering his cheeks.

♡Later that day you were heading home since you were officially off duty. You got home earlier your lover did. You decided to shower before he got home. You stayed in the shower what felt like forever under the warm water, you eventually got out, put a town around your waist, and headed to your shared bedroom.

♡You dried off and put the town on the floor, planning to put it in the washer later, and put on a pair of boxers before laying on the large bed. You had closed your eyes, feeling tired. Before you knew it, you fell asleep. Your lover had gotten home by now, "{Y/N}, I'm home," he said, you didn't reply which didn't worry him to much, 'Maybe he's in the bedroom,' he thought to himself before walking down the hallway/up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

♡That's where he found you half naked, asleep, and a towel on the floor. He sighed, going to the bathroom and picking up your uniform. Coming back to your room he placed the clothes on the edge of the bed and grabbed the towel you used and took them to the kitchen, putting it in a small basket. He looked at the kitchen, 'Might as well heat up some food,' he thought, not wanting you to actually go to bed hungry and pester him about food.

♡He heated up some leftovers from the night before and took them to your room, not before grabbing utensils of course. He sat the food on the bedside table, turned on a snail with a light attached to it. He looked at your sleeping face before patting it to wake you up. It worked since you slapped his hand away before realizing it was him, "Ah sorry, I must've fallen asleep again," you said before sitting and yawning. You scratched your stomach before looking at him lazily, "Need somethin'?" you asked as he kept looking at you.

♡He coughed and mumbled something, you tilted your head to the side with a giant question mark appearing above you. He groaned. "I heated up some food for you so you wouldn't bother me about being hungry," he said with a small blush, you smiled gently at him and kissed his cheek, "Thank you, love," you said as he gave you the plate for you to eat. The entire time you ate he had taken off his uniform, folded both of your uniforms, put his staff like thing on a hook with his vice admiral jacket, and put your shoes near the end of the bed.

♡You had finished your food and laid on the bed waiting for him, he was wearing sweatpants and brought you a pair of sweatpants to which you gladly put them on. He climbed into bed and you both laid next to each other, basking in each other's warmth. His head was to your chest and your legs wrapped around his waist. You were brushing your hands through his snow white hair,he made small humming sounds. You both favored these moments since you both never really got any alone time.

♡You were slowly drifting of to sleep and Smoker had noticed this. He climbed over you to turn the snail off and placed a gentle kiss against your lips, "I love you Smoker," you said before closing your eyes, "I lover you too, {Y/N}," he said before laying his head against your chest and closing his, drifting off to sleep.

♡I want more of him, please 🥺

♡Lmao found this in my drafts, hopefully this is satisfactory :]

[dyinglikenarcissus]

One more time

Foxy doesn’t want to get her hopes up and tell Bucky they’re expecting again

Sigma!Bucky x black female omega!reader

So I scribbled this down because I enjoy writing this couple. I proofed it but barely. I’m trapped at work so imma just post it.

Warnings: All my content is 18+ but this is just soft fluff. Mentions of pregnancy loss, angst, fighting, a/b/o content

Please don’t copy or repost my work, thanks! Plagiarism is rude

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated ☺️

2k word

-Look I’m not even gonna put a divider-

You love Bucky. He’s perfect. Definitely your other half. He makes you so happy and feel so safe and loved. You loved sleeping in his big arms. You especially loved when his metal one would slip under your night shirts and just hold your breasts as he slept like you were his stress ball. You loved walking downstairs to find that he made you both breakfast and coffee to share out on the balcony in the crisp morning air. You loved just sitting quietly with him while reading or scrolling through your phones or watching a movie curled in his lap. You loved this quiet life he built and you loved his giant cabin. And his giant cock. And how he used it to destroy you almost every night. Everything was perfect.

Until you peed on that little pink stick.

It was already hard enough to get a test. Bucky rarely let you go out alone especially now in the dead of winter. The roads were dangerous and he didn’t want you out alone. You could respect that. You didn’t particularly enjoy driving in the snow anyway. So he planned for it. He built you a little green house over the summer so you could grow fruits and vegetables and herbs for meals. He hunted and fished and stocked piled food in a giant freezer. He cut up so much fire wood and built a pile taller than you and almost as wide as the house. He made sure you were both ready to be self sufficient over the winter months.

But you knew he wasn’t ready for this.

The two of you were being anything but safe. You’d been off birth control since you mated, he always finished inside of you. Because you both wanted this. That’s why you were out here in this cabin, still on sabbatical from your job, still paying rent on your little apartment. Bucky constantly told you just to end your lease and quit. He’d take care of you. But you were hesitating on that just like your body was hesitating on this.

You were late. You’ve been perfectly regular since college. You’ve only been late once before and that’s when you were…

Since you knew Bucky would never let you drive to the little corner store alone, you overnighted tests. Lots of tests.

Overnight out here in the rural mountains meant about three to five days and even then someone had to go to the tiny post office and pick up the mail and packages. So when Bucky came home and announced you had a package, you quickly plucked it from his hand and rushed up stairs to hide its contents. You knew he’d ask questions if you stuck around and you might be able to side step him if he had to hold his tongue until later.

You tucked them into your bedside table but pulled out one to take.

But this didn’t mean anything, right? It could be a false positive. You’ll take another one next week. And spend another week avoiding your mate which was extremely hard in one house. Given it was a very large house but there were only so many places to hide and…

Shit.

Same results.

So you made a doctor’s appointment back in the city and continued to avoid him.

You spent a ridiculous amount of time in your green house. Your little pomegranate tree was going to be beautiful. And your oranges were huge for just a little sapling. You giggle at it as it bows under the weight of its own fruit and tie another stake to it.

“Found you,” Bucky’s voice sounds from the green house door. You instantly tense and glance around for something to keep your hands busy. But then his hands grip your shoulders lightly. “Stop trying to get away. We’re gonna talk.”

“Wha-What do you want to talk about?” He turns you around to face him, piercing you with those blue eyes. He lifts an unamused brow leaving you to flounder under his stare. “Um, I-I’m-uh…I’m just not feeling well and I don’t want you to catch it.” It wasn’t completely a lie. You were getting nauseated and cramping and if you didn’t know better you would’ve thought you were sick.

Bucky’s eyes soften and he lifts a hand to your brow. “If you aren’t feeling well, you should rest,” he advises. “You don’t feel warm...”

“It’s a stomach thing,” you quickly correct.

“I’ll make soup tonight,” he smiles tipping your face up. “I noticed you haven’t been eating as much as normal. Why didn’t you just tell me?” Because eating anymore would definitely result in morning sickness and he’d know immediately.

“It’s good,” you insist. “I just haven’t been feeling well. I made an appointment in the city. Hopefully they’ll figure out what’s wrong.” He sighs and kisses your forehead.

“Go inside and rest,” he commands, bundling you back up for the cold. “I’ll finish up out here.” You nod and follow his instructions. But you don’t notice the glare that follows you back to the house.

He can’t take you to your appointment. He just can’t. He’ll insist on coming in with you and when he sees you’re at the OB/GYN and not at primary care, he’s going to know.

You whimper softly at the prospect of confronting Bucky. You couldn’t lie to him. He’d just scent you and smell the deceit.

You got dressed and ready to go before emerging downstairs with your nerves tensed for a fight.

Bucky took one glance at you and a frown marred his beautiful face. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Um, my doctor’s appointment,” you whisper.

“That’s today? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I can go by myself.”

“Oh no. Half the roads aren’t plowed. There’s no way I’m letting you drive in that alone. Give me five minutes to change. Stay right there.”

You’ve never disobeyed your mate. You couldn’t. But he couldn’t come to this appointment. You break into a sweat thinking about how it was now or never.

He’s going to be so mad. But you can sooth his wrath, right? He can’t stay angry forever, right?

You grab the keys to his truck and dash out the door.

You return home with about a hundred missed calls and text messages and even more fear at your future. The doctor confirmed it. Gave you an ultrasound and everything. You got to hear its little heart fluttering and see the little bean forming in your womb. You did blood work but he said right now everything seemed normal. But he took in your apprehension. He started you on prenatal vitamins and a special diet and set up weekly appointments just to keep an eye on the progress and give you peace of mind.

But you can never do that again. You could feel your mate’s anger radiating out of the house as soon as you stepped out of the car.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bucky shouted as soon as you entered the home. Your eyes widened at the large male, now firmly in your face. “I was so worried. You could’ve gotten in an accident! I could’ve lost you, too,” his voice chokes off at the words before letting out a huff of irritation. You can only watch in fear as he paces in front of you.

“Bucky, I-“

He holds up a hand to stop you and your mouth clicks shut.

“Did I do something wrong?” His voice is quiet and he refuses to look at you. You know if he were with an alpha, this conversion would never happen. He’d lock you in a room and throw away the key until he felt like talking. But your Bucky, your mate, your sigma, was giving you a chance to explain yourself.

But you just couldn’t put what your were going through into words.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you whisper.

“Is there someone else?” You start to speak but he stops you. “I can’t scent anyone on you but you’re lying to me and keeping secrets and avoiding me! I just,” he lets out a harsh growl before stepping back up to you. “Who is it? What do they do that I can’t?”

“No. No, Bucky there’s nobody else. Just you.”

“Stop lying!” He uses your actual name. He’s never called you by your actual name. It makes something in you break and tears fall from your eyes.

“There’s no one but you. Please, Bucky. I can’t-I can’t tell you right now. I have to figure it out for myself.”

“I’m your mate. We can deal with whatever you’re going through together. Please, let me back in,” he whispers holding your face. You can’t do this. You can’t keep lying to him.

But you’re having too hard a time accepting the facts.

“I can’t, Bucky. Not yet.” He snarls at you. Actually snarls at you and you step back slightly, cowering in submission. He lets out a soft grunt and you can tell he’s watching you even if you can’t make eye contact with him. He snatches the truck keys from the hook you just placed them on and trudges outside leaving you in stunned silence.

He left. Just like that. You’ve fought and argued before but he’s never left. You drop to your knees as a sob wracks your body. “No, no, no, no, no,” you cry. This was destroying you. Both of you. You had to figure this out now. You gather yourself up to rush back out into the snow just to see the tail end of the truck pull out onto the main road.

He didn’t come back for two days. Your car was there but there was no way you’d make it through anything of this winter terrain in your little sedan so you were stuck at home with your feelings. You left hundreds of messages but you could never bring yourself to say what was actually wrong.

Why were you such a fucking mess?

You’d lose another one at this rate and you couldn’t bear that.

As soon as he came back you’d tell him. But he had to come back first. You missed him so much. And he wouldn’t even return your phone calls.

You cry into your strawberries all alone in your little green house. Maybe the salt water will help them grow. Your phone buzzed on the counter and a photo of you and your mate at Universal Studios popped up on the screen.

“Bucky!” You cry answering it.

“It’s Sam actually,” the familiar voice responded.

“Oh,” you tried to keep the disappointment out of your voice but that was impossible. “Is everything okay?”

“Obviously not,” he barks through the phone. “I thought I got rid of him a year ago and now your mate’s back in my guest room and won’t tell me what’s going on.”

You sniffle softly listening to your mate’s best friend’s best friend. “We had a fight,” you explain.

“And he left you out there alone?”

“I have plenty of food and firewood,” you explain.

“That’s not the point. Fucking sigmas,” Sam sighs. “What’s going on?”

“Um I’m-I’m-“

“What the fuck, Sam! Why do you have my phone?”

“Bucky?” You whisper at the new voice on the other end of the line.

“You two need to talk! Fucking talk to her!” Sam insists.

“As soon as she stops lying to me, I’ll talk!” Bucky growls. It sounds like there’s a commotion going on between them.

This has to stop.

You take a deep breath and ball your fist at your side. It was now or never. “Bucky! I’m not lying! I’m pregnant!”

There were twin, “what?”s on the other end of the phone before Bucky finally spoke up. “Foxy, say that again.”

Your lips tug upward at the nickname and you let out a soft sigh. “I’m pregnant.”

“Take this. I gotta go home,” Bucky’s voice comes out in a rush and you hear a soft ‘oof’ from Sam.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Sam’s voice calls. “Wait! Your phone! God, he’s such an idiot. Is that what this was all about?” He was addressing you again.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Things got a little out of hand,” you explain.

“Do me a favor, just tell him next time,” Sam sighs. “Here! Your fucking phone!”

“I’m on my way, foxy,” Bucky voice chimes in. You hear a door slam and an engine start.

“Please, be careful,” you wish.

“I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you smile, really smile for the first time in far too long.

The second he walks through the door he scoops you into a big hug. “My sweet, sweet girl,” he mutters into your hair.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I-“

“You don’t have to explain it,” Bucky sighs as you slip your arms around his shoulders. “I know. I get it. We’ll be extra careful with this one.” He lifts you to wrap your legs around his hips as you nuzzle your face into his neck.

“I’m so scared,” you whisper.

“I know. But I’m with you. No matter what, I’m with you. Please don’t forget that.” His voice rumbles through you and you feel so comfortable and loved.

“I told you I wasn’t lying,” you smile, stroking the cropped hair at the nape of his neck.

“You were,” he insists. “There is someone else. They’re in your tummy.”

“Bucky,” you giggle, pinching his shoulder.

“Let’s go lay down. Couldn’t sleep without you, fox,” Bucky admits, carrying you upstairs. You cling to him a little tighter. You love Bucky. He keeps you safe. He loves you. He is your happiness.

[beeroses]

Keyed Up

@lilacyennefer​

@write-it-motherfuckers​

^ Thanks to these two blogs for the prompt. It got the writing motor going! And kudos on the gif to the owner, it is not mine! Nor are Tig and the Sons, which I voluntarily relinquish to Kurt Sutter and his brilliant, twisted mind!

Warnings: Language and a lot of not-so-subtle Tig 

Story based on this prompt below : 

Living in Charming wasn’t Plan A. By God, it wasn’t even plan H. Yet, that’s where Y/N’s been living for the last year and a half and it has been most probably the best year ever. Between working 2 jobs and handling, well, let’s be fair, an entire kindergarten of adult bikers, life’s been busy but quite bright and fulfilling. Handing up hanging around the Sons has been a series of happy coincidences that went from meeting them at the diner you worked at to helping bartending on busy weekends at the Clubhouse to them bluntly asking that you helped with bookkeeping. Starting first with the garage, you became quite aware of what was going on around the lot but got no details. But when you started doing the books from the club, they couldn’t hide you their activities anymore. Instead of fleeing, like they thought you would, you actually found a way to possibly care about them anymore. Instead of the whole thing scaring you, it actually got you very protective of them and more scared of them getting hurt than you getting mixed in the very bloody scene they played on. 

One Son brought a side of you that you didn’t know existed, before meeting him : something along the lines of a momma bear with her cub or a giant mountain gorilla with his offspring. The question remained though as to which came first? Did you start worrying about Tig more because of much he knew just how to put himself in the worst possible scenarios? Or did you over exaggerate the actual amount of danger surrounding the man? One way or another, although you always made sure everyone was alright, you paid extra attention for any kind of scratches or heavy bleeding on Tig. 

- We’re off on a run for a couple of days, Sweetheart, will you be able to come keep an eye on the garage, Jax asked you. 

- Of course, have some books to finish up anyways and it’s gonna be so damn peaceful without all of you around to bother me! 

- You do know you’re faking bothered and you’re not even good at it, right ? Tig asked you, smirking while making you blush slightly. 

- It’s not because Y/N answers your every needs and calls that you’re not a bother, Jax replied, rolling his eyes at the obvious manoeuvre Tig was trying to pull. 

- No, it’s because I’m Y/N’s favorite, he answered back, putting a very confident arm comfortably around your shoulders, pulling you to him, while your face felt so hot, an egg could’ve fried. 

You quickly got up, mumbling something to do on the something about something that you promised to something and disappeared in the other room. The boys were left chuckling about it and Tig was left wth a tingling all along his arm, where he held you. 

When the boys left, you finally showed yourself again to say goodbye and tell them that everything was under control. 

The hours and days ticked by painfully slowly while the Sons were off doing God knows what with God knows who. You managed to close a lot of books that were piling up but deeply missed the ruckus that the boys brought around the clubhouse : it made it alive. 

You did have many very decent qualities to you, but being the kind of person that always had a phone around in case of emergencies wasn’t one of them. Which meant, it often stayed on your bedside table or on the kitchen counter for the entire day, because ou forgot it there that morning. You always said it made you mysterious but for most, it just made you impossible to reach. Calendars have always been a big mess as well. Never fully knowing which day it is, you still always found yourself at the right place where you’re supposed to be. 

Leading to that evening. It was engraved in your memory that the boys were coming tomorrow therefore, obviously, they couldn’t be coming tonight, right? 

You went out with friends for an old-fashioned diner-movies-gossiping, which basically always ended in : When are you and Tig finally get together? And you desperately changing the subject, blushing and babbling about him being just a good friend, nothing more, just like the others. our friends laughing that you could actually believe yourself. 

The thing is, tomorrow would not be the day the boys arrived home because tonight was. And your cellphone may have been beeping and lightening up and ringing, the fact it was tuckered under a pillow on your couch made it absolutely impossible for you to notice it. 

You came home fairly late that evening, fiddling with your keys when you heard loud noises coming from the inside of your house. Panicked, you took  a flower pot from your porch and slowly unlock the door and opened it. Peeking inside, you waited for indications as to where the sound was coming from. You heard nothing for a while and decided to go in slowly to try and found out what was going on. And then, coming out of your bedroom door with a baseball bat in his hands stood… Tig. Fucking. Trager. You put the flower pot down and opened the lights to see him bleeding from his arm and with a scratch on his head. 

- WHAT THE HELL TIGGY?? 

- WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, WE’VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU FOR 2 HOURS STRAIGHT, I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. WHAT DID WE SAY ABOUT YOUR CELLPHONE??

You blushed slightly, realizing your phone was left at home and the boys were actually worried about you. You took it from under the pillow and threw a shy smile at Tig. 

- Oops… Hey! Wait a minute. How did you actually get in?

You pushed pass him, ignoring the bleeding he had on his arm for another minute while you went to look at your bedroom window. You turned back at him and sighed, rolling your eyes in *faked* annoyance 

- You have got to stop breaking into my house.

He smiled coyly at you. 

- I wouldn’t have to if you’d just give me the keys, while throwing you a flirty wink. 

You grabbed his unhurt arm and dragged him to your bathroom where you could deal with his injuries. You forced him to take a seat and took upon yourself to find something to treat him. While you looked for alcohol swabs, he took his sweet time detailing your face, your eyes and your body in the nice clothes you decided to wear to go out. When you turned around, you saw his eyes glued to you and couldn’t help your blushing. You dealt with his minor injury quickly and threw all the stuff you used away. While your back was slightly turned to him, he grabbed your waist and pulled you on his lap. Feeling his breath on your neck and on the soft skin right behind your ear made you both giddy and very nervous. 

- I’m not kidding, if you’d just give me that key of yours… he murmured, lips close to your ear

- Tiggy, you just threw yourself through my bedroom window, I don’t think giving you the key would be safe, you mocked, trying to keep some kind of composure. 

- What if instead of crashing through your window, I wanted to come crash here, sometimes, he insisted teasingly, while you felt his nose in the crook of your neck and his hand on your thigh, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

- Tig… you breathed out.

Hearing his name being said so close to a moan made him turn your head towards him and pull you into a steamy kiss. After a while (could’ve been a minute, could’ve been three hours, you really did suck with time), the two of you pulled away to try and catch a breath. You stood up, turned around and left the bathroom. Tig, left alone with wide eyes, started freaking out, thinking he went too far, too fast, again. But this time, he bit his tongue for pushing away someone he truly cares about. Panicked and wild-eyed, he gets up and starts following you to explain but bumps into you when he gets out of the bathroom. 

Standing there, with a crooked smile on your face, you grabbed his hand to pull him into another kiss while discreetly slipping your key in the hand you were holding. You felt him smile against your lips while he grabbed you to pull you even closer to him. 

Nothing needed to be said. He had your key and you had no certainty that he wouldn’t still break into your house just because. But you sure wouldn’t have it any other way, because he may had your key now, but you had him and it’s all that mattered. 

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 4

-----

The next day, Marinette woke up in her bed, still dressed. By the time her father brought her into her room, she was already asleep. The emotions finally caught up with her somewhere along the way. Remembering the end of the evening, her eyes immediately latched onto her finger, but the ring was not there. A mere second before a panic attack, she looked at the bedside table, where both the box and the ring rested. She let out a breath. She didn’t lose it. 

“Morning cupcake,” a voice startled her. “Are you okay?” Her father was looking through the repealed doors. 

“Yeah… Did yesterday really happen?”

“We are still at Wayne Manor and I seem to remember to have put the ring on the night table.” 

“I can’t believe he actually proposed!” Marinette jumped off the bed and started to pace around with a dreamy look on her face. “I mean I know we are married, but it was still so romantic! And in front of so many people! Oh, Papa! I’m so happy!” She fell back onto her bed. 

“I’m glad you’re happy, cupcake. Remember that your Maman and I will always be here for you.” His smile took a sadder shade. “I know you’re almost a grown-up with a job and all, but to us you will always be the same little girl that I used to fit in the palm of my hand.” 

“Don’t worry Papa. I won’t forget you and Maman.”

“Good. Now let’s go open the presents! Race you!” He ran out of her room and toward the big tree in the hall. Mari giggled at her father’s antics before following him; the ring shining on her finger. 

In the back, Tikki floated with a big smile on her face. Her chosen finally had a chance for some happiness. If only that ruddy alley cat did not run away with the miraculous. She could still feel Nooroo and Duusu active. She could wait one more day before telling Marinette though. The girl deserved a peaceful Christmas.

---------

By the time Marinette arrived by the tree, most of the people were already gathered. Dick was seated in a large armchair next to a pile of gifts. He was dressed in a full Santa Claus outfit, complete with a fake beard. The only reason she recognized him was because of his voice.

“Now that everyone’s here, who wants…” He started, but someone interrupted. 

“Before that, I need to apologize.” Johnathan Kent turned toward Marinette. “Yesterday, after you left, I made some unsavory accusations about you, for which I want to deeply apologize.” Just for a second, his eyes jumped toward Sabine. The girl noted that her mother was glaring at the older man. “I’m a simple man and this… secret world you all live in is strange for me. Please, accept my sincere apology.” 

“Oh… No problem Mr. Kent. To be honest I’m still getting used to it all myself.” She smiled at him. Marinette was not that oblivious not to guess what kind of accusations the older man had made. 

“With that out of the way, I think we can get started. Maybe let’s begin with the youngest?” Dick said, trying to imitate how the real Santa Claus would sound. Marinette would admit that he was close.

“Me! Me!” Mar’i started floating in the air until Jon pulled her gently to the ground. He really got into the ‘older brother’ role. 

“Yes, you, sweetheart.” 

Mar’i received several gifts from the pile. Marinette was surprised to see one from her family. Inside were several baked goods from their bakery. She didn’t remember her parents packing any, but maybe they made them here.

“Me next!” Jon was giddy. His pile of gifts was slightly smaller, but there was a box of sweets there too. 

After that, it was Marinette’s turn. She received probably even more than Mar’i. There were also gifts from her Nona, grandfather, uncle Wang, one without a name tag that she was pretty sure came from aunt Sandra, a giant box from Chloe, and a small one that she had no idea who sent her. It was wrapped with a paper with black cats that would look better somewhere around Halloween, but she was too distracted to question it. Damian was busy arguing with Jon about whether he would get the Kryptonite knuckle dusters or not. 

She started with the largest box that Chloé sent her. Inside, there was a giant chest filled to the brim with detective novels and a letter that she chose to read when she was alone. Next was the gift from her uncle, which turned out to be an intricately decorated stone bowl for mixing ingredients. 

Her grandfather got her a beautiful rolling pin made half from cherry wood and half from solidified resin. The resin was in dark green color that reminded her of Damian’s eyes. But Roland had no idea about that, did he…?

Many gifts were some nice fabrics, a gift card to Gabriel, which she was tempted to burn as soon as she got it, but out of politeness just put it back into the box for now. Finally, the gift from aunt Sandra contained a set of beautiful daggers, a Katana, and a hairpin that had a space to pour poison inside. 

Her parents gave her a new rope dart, this time with a sharp end that she could use in combat. The line it was attached to was made from titanium-carbon alloy that would be able to withstand point-pressure of at least two tonnes. The weapon itself was practical instead of good-looking. The blade was thick, looking a bit like a diamond. The edges were sharp and the tip very pointy. The grip of the weapon was wrapped in a red cord for a more comfortable grip. Mari thanked them both before pocketing the weapon into her bag for now. She would probably fashion a better place for it.

Finally, only one box remained. The mysterious cats. Mari was about to open it when Jon noted it and leaped at her. The bow came undone the moment he covered the small box with his body. Everyone waited, watching carefully what was going on.

Nothing happened.

“Tt. Kent? Mind explaining to us why you decided to smash my Angel’s gift?” Damian glared at him.

“Um… I might have accidentally scanned it. You don’t want to see what’s inside. I definitely don’t want to see what’s inside ever again,” he shuddered. 

“Show me,” Sabine demanded. She picked up the squashed box and opened the top before closing it. A small lighter made its way into her hand and before anyone knew better, it was aflame. Seeing people staring at her, she smiled. “Nothing to worry about. It was a terrible prank.” She wrapped the now-charred remains and some vaguely straight shape into the torn paper. 

“What was this Maman?”

“A very distasteful prank.”

Marinette looked at the shape in her mother’s hand and her blood suddenly ran cold. It was shaped like a knife. The knife.

“No… He knows?! He can’t know!” She panicked, but Damian quickly pulled her closer to him, immediately soothing her some. 

“No, Sweetie. That bastard thought he would appease you by offering a painting of a stabbed Ladybug.” Sabine’s expression was heralding God’s wrath.

Jason growled. “He is sick.”

Next to him, Tim muttered so that only Stephanie could hear him. “You gave B. a crowbar on your first Christmas back…” Superman heard it too, judging from his reaction. 

“So what now?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we won’t be coming back beyond ‘appearing’ at the airport when your class is scheduled to leave. I still can’t believe how incompetent your teacher must be to force you to travel with them.”

“I know it might sound stupid, but I think you will be safest in Gotham City.” Lois offered. 

Mari nodded sharply before cuddling into Damian. “Don’t worry, Angel. I will protect you.” He reassured her while hugging her close to his heart.

“I can protect myself.” She huffed but didn’t reject his hug. 

“That I don’t doubt.”

“There is a good chance he won’t be able to reach you in Gotham anyway. He is just one kid, which will make crossing the border much harder for him.” Stephanie pointed. 

“He has his daddy’s money. That will probably be enough.”

“Let’s hope not. I will send the warning to the border control that he might be trying to enter the country, but that’s the best I can do.” 

“Meanwhile I will go check if my guns are working…” Jason tried to leave, only for Tim to grab the back of his jacket and pull him back into place.

“There is no point worrying for now. Let’s just enjoy Christmas.” Sabine nodded for everyone to return to gifts. When no one was looking at her, she pulled Jon to the side and placed the knife paper on the stone floor. They didn’t speak, not to start another drama, but the boy understood. A short heat-vision later the knife was no more than a piece of smoking paper and molten steel.

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

A blonde boy walked toward the terminal. He was dressed in a light gray long-sleeved dress shirt underneath a dark gray vest. He also sported a black necktie, dark gray dress pants, and black dress shoes. His hair was combed back, adding to the impeccable look. The green eyes swept over the guards as they observed him closely. He presented the passport.

He noted that it took them longer than it should. His eyes fell on the wanted poster next to the guards. 

“I’m not my idiotic cousin if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Ah… Um…” The guard that was speaking to him was clearly confused. 

“Really? Ugh! That idiot decided to play supervillain and suddenly I have to suffer for it! I am not Adrien Agreste.” He ruffled through his bag, not caring that several guards almost drew their weapons. He finally pulled out a magazine with him and Adrien standing side by side, modeling for Gabriel. When side by side, the difference in their styles was even more pronounced.

“Apologies, mister. You must understand thought…” The man started to back-track.

“Yeah yeah. Spare the prostrating.” He dismissed the guard and walked past the checkpoint. Once he was out of the hearing range, he grinned. “It’s not you that I want to see on the floor…” He whispered omniously. 

-----------

Marinette and Sabine arrived through a portal five minutes from the airport, with ten minutes to spare before class was scheduled to meet. The two did not carry any luggage so they would get past the customs much faster. An upside to having all your things brought through a magical portal the day before. 

The airport was buzzing with activity. Marinette and her mother quickly got past the checkpoint and met with Chloé, who awaited them eagerly. 

“Dupain-Cheng! How was Christmas with the Waynes?” She asked in a hushed voice, so the class didn’t hear her. 

“Well…” Mari grinned before showing the blonde her ring.

“What? Now that’s what I call a good Christmas gift.” 

“How did you like the belt?” Marinette asked. In response, Chloé showed her that she was already wearing it. It was white with some golden glitter around the elegant buckle. There was a barely visible MDC logo etched on the buckle. The designer worked on it for some time before repurposing it as a Christmas gift. She had to cut on the glitter decorations, but in the end, the more minimalistic design appealed to Chloé. 

Sabine watched the two girls talk. A year ago, the woman wouldn’t believe her eyes if Marinette and Chloé acted this friendly. Now though, they were cute. 

“Did you get my gift?” The blonde asked impatiently.

“Um… Yes. The books are great.” 

“What was under the books!” The girl whispered, hoping to avoid Sabine’s watchful eye and ear.

“What?” Marinette looked surprised and Chloé had to resist the urge to facepalm. 

“Honestly Dupain-Cheng! You’re ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!”

And then the mood was broken when the rest of the class found them. 

“Good morning Marinette.” Madame Bustier greeted the girl. “Sabine.” 

The older woman did not return the greeting. “It’s Madame Cheng. We are here in the role of chaperones.” She almost seethes. “Let’s keep at least the illusion of professionalism.”

“Um… right. Moving on kids!” The slightly embarrassed teacher declared. 

“She is just as bad as Maribrat,” Alya muttered to Lila when she thought Sabine couldn’t hear her. The glare she received in response made it clear she made a mistake in her judgment.

After they got to the plane, people started to whisper when Chloé and Marinette didn’t join them in the economy class where they had their tickets. Instead, the two left for the first class. 

“Why aren’t they joining us!?”

“Because Chloé’s father paid for hers and I can afford mine.” Marinette normally would be against such blatant flaunting of wealth, but she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing it a bit into them that she earned the luxury. 

“She probably…” Kim suddenly lost his ability to speak when he was met eye-to-eye with Sabine Cheng. 

“Think carefully about what you want to say next.” 

He could almost see the flames of hell burning brightly behind her. “Um… she probably earned it?”

“Good boy.” 

“While I agree that Marinette earned it,” Caline started speaking and Sabine, Chloé, and the girl in question all had to resist the urge to groan, sensing there was more to that sentence. “I think it would be preferable if the girls joined the class for the duration of the flight. It would serve to strengthen the bonds between kids.” 

“And how exactly do you plan on fitting them when all the places in this place are bought out. Not to mention the price difference. Or maybe you thought money was not a problem?” Sabine asked, her voice dripping in sarcasm. 

Before Caline could answer, Lila decided to open her mouth. “Maybe Madame Bustier and you, madame could switch places with them. We know how hard our teacher worked and a bit of relaxation and comfort would do her good. You too could probably relax a bit from all the hard work in that Bakery.” 

Immediately after that, everyone started to agree and try to convince the chaperones to leave them alone. Sabine was about to protest when Caline spoke up. “Well, I think it would be acceptable, provided the girls agree.” She sent both a glare. 

Sabine’s blood boiled. She wasn’t sure if any normal girl would actually have the strength to stand up to a teacher in that position. Only the fact that Marinette looked completely unbothered stopped her from reacting. 

“Of course they won’t agree! They are too selfish!” Alya shouted. 

Some of the people on the plane started to stare at the group, with many gazes falling on Marinette and Chloé. 

The blonde scoffed, but her best friend grinned. “Sure.” She pulled her ticket and handed her to the teacher. “But we’re blocking the flight, so let’s move.”

Chloé handed hers to Sabine, smiling politely at the woman. “Marinette suspected this would end like that.” She whispered before taking a seat next to Dupain-Cheng. Both girls pulled out old-fashioned dictaphones and started recording what was going on with the class. Then Chloé gave Mari one of her detective novels and they started reading. 

Sabine shook her head. Her little girl had a plan and she would trust her. And after seeing Lila in action, she now had some idea how that liar worked. The way she manipulated people’s opinion reminded her in some ways of the assassin training she underwent. 

-----

The plane was already half-way to Gotham. Sabine did her best to ignore Caliné’s rambling about Marinette, switching between praising her and making her into the heart of all the problems with the class. If she didn’t know better, Sabine would think that the teacher had some sort of mental disorder. Beyond simple stupidity that is. 

Out of the blue, Caliné stopped rambling and Sabine saw her asleep, snoring lightly. 

“A strong sedative. It should give us at least an hour of peace.” A calm voice spoke from behind her. 

“Sandra.” Sabine greeted her sister politely, but without the usual cheerfulness. “Clever of you to choose here of all places to meet me. Don’t think that it will let you escape my wrath. You left that girl on the mercy of a monster.” 

“Cassandra was… I did regret what I did, but I couldn’t risk trying to reclaim her. Not until I was sure she could defend herself.” Sandra said, allowing emotions to enter her voice. Sabine could tell she was genuinely saddened by the situation. 

“You could’ve brought her to me. I would raise her along Marinette without a second thought. And you know that nobody would dare to come after me.” The older turned in her seat to glare at her sister. Two men at her side were both also sleeping, each with a small wound on their neck. They had complete privacy. 

“I… I’m sorry. By the time I managed to find her again, I… I was ashamed. I admit that it pained me to see what Cain did to her. But I couldn’t…”

“We will talk about it when I can scream at you properly.” Sabine cut her off. “For now I want to know what is so important you decided to show up personally, risking my wrath.”

“The boy has allies.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but they are influential enough to shield him from many of my contacts.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you tried. As opposed to with your daughter.”

“I deserve it…” Sandra lowered her head. 

“Yes, you do.” Sabine huffed. 

“If I find the kid…” 

“He sent Mari the knife he stabbed Ladybug with. I have no idea how he got his sticky hands on it…” 

“You still have the bag, right?”

“Already waiting for me in Gotham.”

“I will try digging some more, but I’m getting blocked at each turn.”

“Meanwhile I will keep both our girls safe.”

“I got the picture of Talia by the way.” Lady Shiva allowed a smile to ghost her face. “I carry it framed and put it by my bed. She got a few copies too.” 

“Good. That might remind her not to trifle with us.” The sisters shared a laugh, but Sabine was still angry and it showed. She would give her sister a piece of her mind when the time came. 

-----------

A figure stood cloaked in shadows. The small screen showed a series of images. 

“Poison Ivy; Bane; Penguin; Riddler; Mr. Freeze; Two-Face; Scarecrow; Clayface; Falcone; Harley Quinn; Killer Croc; Joker…” 

“The previous Hawkmoth was a fool.” Another figure spoke from the shadows. Their voice was neither feminine nor masculine. “He stuck to a moral high ground, giving powers to untrained kids. Then again, he was fighting kids.” 

A small, butterfly-like creature floated in the air. “But that is precisely what the Butterfly Miraculous is supposed to do! Its powers will work best with the common people.” 

“Interesting.” The main figure grinned. “So my father wasn’t such a fool after all.” He laughed when another image appeared on the screen. “And I see that my trap is already working.”

Duusuu had to hide from fear. This was not the kind boy they knew. What could’ve happened to Chat Noir, the great kind Chat Noir that made him into… this.

-------

Masterlist // Next

[reidecorating]

Waking up Slow

Requested: Nope, this is just what happens when I decide to avoid studying for physics 

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x Female Reader 

Word Count: Around 2k

Summary: It’s been a dream of mine to wear Gube’s alien shirt and make him food and just have a good old yarn with the man so I decided to write about it. This is just a whole lot of flirting and banter and making out on a Sunday morning

Warnings: None, a lil spicy but pretty SFW, might mistake this for a pillow though, with the amount of fluff

Rays of impatient late morning sun poured in through the gaps in the curtains, which were hastily shut the night before, as they failed to meet in the middle. Matthew never minded sleeping with them half open. Some nights, he would squint and try to make out constellations in the cosmos as his whole world lay curled up beside him, her ear against his heartbeat the way a young child would listen to the ocean through a shell. Other nights, when they would both lay tired and out of breath, she would call him moonlight as her fingers danced along his collarbones, shimmering in the star shine as the thin veil of sweat painting them was the only evidence of what they had been doing previously. However, now, while the two of them remained entwined, the white sheets appeared to glow yellow in the wake of the stars which had collected into one, hours ago. She woke up to Matthew’s arm draped around her waist, having found its way under the fabric of the shirt that scantily covered her, in an attempt to share the warmth of her skin. Stretching and letting out a yawn, she debated falling back asleep, seeing as her only interlocutor was still doing the same. Craning her neck over the pile of poetry sitting on the bedside table, obscuring her view, she made out the small digital numbers reading just before midday, and turned to face the dozing man beside her.

Her eyes brushed over him in all his sleeping beauty, head resting against the supple skin of his upturned palm, brown hair brighter in the morning light, pixie nose tilted up towards the headboard. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks at whatever he was dreaming of, and she wanted, so badly, to taste the pink of his parted lips, to join his dreamscape by breathing into his lungs. A large portion of the sheets had been stolen by her in the middle of the night. While she was bundled up like a cinnamon roll, Matthew lay exposed to whatever monsters and ghosts he claimed reside in his house. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath, but her eyes trailed down to where the waistband of his pyjamas hung temptingly low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination. Catching her off guard, he pried open one eye, the murky waters of a pond spilling into her view. “It’s rude to stare,”

“Not at art, it isn’t,” she combated his teasing. He groaned theatrically as he stretched out across the span of the bed before regaining his position. “I won’t take sugar in my coffee then, you’re sweet enough,” he smirked. “Oh no, could you please move, I’m actually trying to look at the portrait behind you,” she teased. “Evil,”

“But you love me,”

“I do.”

He removed his arm from where it rested, a little too low on her body, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger on her cheek, absentmindedly stroking his thumb against the slight flush of her face. She tilted her head slightly to delicately graze her lips against the inside of Matthew’s wrist, making his breath hitch. “Kiss me?” She asked, giving into the adoring look in his eyes. “Your wish is my command, m’lady,” 

“Wow, a magician and a genie, I really hit the jackpot with you,”

“You’re really going to leave bodybuilder off the list? With muscles like these? I’m built like…Dwayne Johnson. Did you know they wanted me to be in the Fast and Furious series? But they actually thought I was ‘too buff’ and ‘too macho’ and all my sex appeal would distract from the plot, so they had to settle for Dwayne.”

Laughing into his chest, she pulled herself up and straddled his waist, bringing the blanket with her as if it were a cape. “I’m not joking, Y/N, my net worth is sixty thousand dollars per muscle,” he continued, one hand behind his head and the other now resting on her bare hip, tracing light circles on the skin where her giant shirt had ridden up, revealing the black band of her underwear. “Essentially, what you’re saying is that I could sell you on the black market and make a lot of cash?” She asked him raising an eyebrow and toying with the mess of his hair. “You could, but then you would miss out on this.” He finally kissed her, slow and tactile. Resting on her forearms, linked together above his head, she let her hair drape down and tickle the sides of his face. He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, at a painstakingly low pace, his hands now caressing her jaw and dabbling with her hair. She breathed him in while he continued to gently suck at her lips, then jaw, then neck, eliciting faint moans from her. “We’re hungry,” he spoke, halting his actions, removing her from her reverie. “Matthew, don’t stop,” she whined semi-facetiously. He gave her a smug look, eyebrows raised. “Fine, I’ll make you food - only because you did it yesterday - but we’re not done here,” she huffed, making him chuckle as she crossly got off him, and out of bed. “It looks nice on you, pumpkin,” Matthew chirped. Tilting her head in confusion, she looked down and realised he was referring to his whimsical alien shirt she had stolen the night before. The buttons that were undone torturously left Matthew craving her skin, as she gave him a glimpse of his favourite view each time she bent down to slide on a sock. “Considering it is a woman’s top…”

“Hey!” He threw a pillow at her, “I thought it looked nice, something a space cowboy would wear during his leisurely time,” “I didn’t say it didn’t look nice!” Her hands went up in surrender, suppressing a smile when she threw the pillow back in his direction. Making her way towards the kitchen, she left him starstruck and staring at the ceiling, smiling to himself like a teenager in love.

Eyes getting tired of reading the words of Robert Frost, when his stomach grumbled loud enough to genuinely frighten him, he placed down the book and followed the enticing aroma wafting into his room. When he saw her, she was humming to herself, swaying to the rhythm of whatever song was playing in her head. He admired her bare legs as the hem of his shirt skimmed the tops of her thighs. Gazing at her tied hair swinging to and fro, giving him snippets of the back of her neck, he became eager to pick up where they had left off. “Hey there lover of mine, wasn’t it you who told me its rude to stare?” She beamed at him, turning around cradling a giant bowl of some sort of mixture in one arm while sporting a giant wooden spoon with the other. He realised she must’ve heard him shuffling around, he wasn’t the most graceful person alive after all. His heart melted at the smile she sent his way, tucking his lip beneath his teeth to avoid grinning back so hard he would sprain something. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he glanced down at his feet from where he leant against the doorframe. She still made him nervous. However, the man never failed to make her fall past the point of no return each day, so they were even. “I’m so in love with you, Gube,” she shook her head and laughed, facing the stove again. He stepped forwards and slunk his arms around her, planting a kiss on her cheek before dipping a finger in the batter to taste it. “I tried making us heart shaped pancakes,” she muttered sheepishly. “Key word, tried.” He stifled a laugh, looking at the piles of pancakes on their plates, decorated in berries and cream. “Maybe if you squint and look at them from really really far away they look a little bit like hearts…”

“Do you have a warrant for all this pancake slander? Because I wasn’t aware that you were the geometry police,” she poured the last of the batter into the pan before piling up more dishes. “The proportions in my paintings can speak to that,” He pointed to his latest work in progress leaning against the wall, its newest layer drying in the spring breeze which was fleeting past the rickety handles of the kitchen windows. “I’m glad Picasso came and went when he did, poor man’d be facing some real competition if he was still around,” setting down his warm brew in front of him as he dug into his - what was now - brunch, she continued to tantalise him. “Are you mocking my curvaceous abstract cockroach? It actually came to me in a dream once,”

“Matthew, you did not just use the adjective ‘curvaceous’ in regards to an insect,” she chuckled, “but a dream? Really?” She pressed on, wondering, one, why he was dreaming about the revolting beasties and, two, whether she should leave him while she still could. “No, I lied, I just saw your face and felt inspired,” he winked. “Hurtful,” she scoffed. “All the artistic recognition is getting to your head, fame changed you Gube,”

“What’s a man without his roach?” A fake western accent glossing his words as he made a gesture of stroking a bug between his hands made you throw your head back in laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned, a roach-less man!” She chimed in, sounding almost as Texan as he did, making it his turn to laugh.

They ate in a serene silence, aside from Matthew’s odd compliments to the chef, both enjoying the view from opposite sides of the kitchen counter.  “So, aside from finishing that horrid thing,” she tilted her head in the direction of his painting, “what’s on the agenda for the one, and the only, Salvador Dali, today?” Matthew breathed out a laugh in response to her comparison. “Would you still love me if I grew out my moustache like his?”

“Bold of you to assume I love you even without the moustache,” A false and dramatic look of hurt found its way onto his face as she teasingly blew him a kiss from where she stood at the sink. “Anyway, now that you’ve completely destroyed my self confidence and broken my tiny, fragile heart, to answer your question… You are, actually,” he spun around on his bar stool. A sea of scarlet rose up her neck and made a home in her cheeks at his simple remark. “Well… I’m glad, because you’ve been at the top of my ’To Do’ list for a while now.”

She placed their cups in the sink and made her way over to where he sat, the seat of the stool resembling a bottle cap. “Is that so?” He smirked, now wearing the same shade of blush she was, as she stood between his knees, letting her hands snake up around his neck. “Mhm,” she gently planted her lips on his, “and you’re one thing I’m not going to procrastinate on getting done,” 

“You’re killing me, Y/N,” he breathed against her mouth. “You’ve always wanted you be a ghost, haven’t you?” She felt him smile against her as her lips glided over his. She placed one hand, still warm from the coffee it had been cradling, on his chest while the other inattentively played with the wiry tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck. The effect she had on him hadn’t changed with time, even after two years, she realised, his racing heartbeat evident beneath her palm.

This time, when their lips met, it was slightly more desperate, the need for one another gushing from both of them. She captured his bottom lip beneath hers, gently biting down before drawing back for air. Matthew gazed at her devotedly, eyebrows furrowing together when she kissed him again. While her tongue traced over his lips, enchanting him, his hands travelled down to her thighs, gripping each of them firmly before standing up and lifting her onto the counter. Their lips separated with a small smack as she gasped at the contrast in temperature between the granite and her skin. His nose skimmed hers when he made his way back down along the same path he had travelled earlier that morning, this time, unbuttoning the remainder of the shirt she wore, the heavenly sounds she was making leaving him in a trance. He adored seeing her this way, unguarded and sinking in his touch.  “You’re sensational, Matthew,” she sighed, tugging at his hair and craning her neck back to allow him more access. He nipped at the column of her throat, smiling to himself at the comment. She had no clue what she did to him. “Angel, I don’t often get dessert after breakfast, but do you think you can make it happen for me today?”

[chubbyhl]

i just want to see fat harry being loved by louis😎 maybe some stuffing, cuddles and belly rubbs that's all

Anonymous said: fully kink centered feedee harry fic sounds like a dream

Anonymous said: could you give us lots LOOOTS of louis teasing harry about his weight gain?

Anonymous said: i just want some stuffing that's all😭

Fulfilling MANY prompts with this one! Around 2k of feedee Harry getting stuffed, I hope y’all enjoy (also...this is kink-centered so if you’re not into that, I apologize, I’ll post more fluffy content soon)

--

Louis’s favorite part of any day was always when he got to feed his boyfriend.

 His day to day was rather dull; waking up earlier, going to work to teach music to young kids, and then trying not to fall asleep on the train home before he went and made dinner.

 But making dinner always brought him a bit of peace, as he picked out the perfect meal, chopped up each ingredient, formulated it perfectly so it would be ready when Harry eventually got home from work. He always made the best meals for Harry; always more than one course, the richest flavors, always good enough to make Harry ask for seconds.

 When he thought about it, it was probably no wonder Harry had gained about 150 pounds in the two years Louis had known him.

It wasn’t intentional, at first. Harry was a little chubby when Louis had met him; mostly just a round belly on an otherwise skinny frame, something he had blamed on starting a new desk job that gave him no time to work out, and a lot of time to sit around and stress-eat. He and Louis went on all the usual food-centric dates a new couple would go on; movie dates with popcorn and soda, Mexican and Italian restaurants, ice cream to end the night. Louis remembered putting on a little weight during that time too, but he quickly realized just how much Harry loved to eat whenever they went out. He would order extra-large popcorns and cherry Cokes for himself, three scoops of ice cream to Louis’s one, two main courses and a dessert when they went to dinner.

 “You really love food,” Louis remembered commenting once at dinner, and Harry just laughed and patted his belly.

 “It’s no wonder this thing is getting bigger, then,” Harry had said.

 They had also had sex for the first time that night, although at first Louis tried to tell himself the two were not related. Not even if Harry pushing his bloated stomach against Louis’s own flat belly finally made him cum later.

 A few Google searches and awkward discussions later, the two of them figured out what they both wanted: Harry to gain more weight, and Louis to get him there.

 Now, Louis flitted around the kitchen, humming to himself as he got out some plates. It was a Friday, so Louis had taken a break from his usual cooking and had taken the route of ordering in instead, getting some food from Harry’s favorite fried chicken restaurant. He had already stripped down to just his briefs, and hummed happily to himself as he heard Harry’s keys in their apartment door as he plated some of the take out.

 “Hey, babe,” Harry’s voice called, immediately followed by, “Damn, that smells good.”

 “You hungry?” Louis returned, already smiling to himself as he laid out Harry’s beloved chicken tenders in a pleasing layout on the plate.

 “You know it,” Harry called back. Louis heard him tossing his keys in the bowl by their door, and then blushed as Harry’s heavy footsteps came down the hall.

 Harry came in a moment later, smiling as he came up behind Louis, slipping an arm around his waist and kissing behind his ear. He was dressed in his usual work attire, a white button down and a now-loosen tie, although as usual, his buttons had started gaping over his undershirt, pushed out by a day of battling Harry’s round, heavy belly.

 “God, this looks so good,” Harry sighed. “Where are we eating tonight?”

 “Where do we always eat on Friday?” Louis countered, twisting around to kiss Harry’s cheek.

 “Oh, is it a bedroom kind of night?” Harry chuckled, kissing Louis back.

 “Uh huh,” Louis smiled. “Get comfy, baby, I’ll be right in, okay?”

 “Alright, honey,” Harry agreed. He kissed him one last time, and Louis just smiled as he cut down the hall, on the way to their room.

 Louis put the finishing touches on the plate he had made;  a dozen chicken strips, some home fries, several tubs of dipping sauce, all laid out neatly. He had also gotten two giant bottles of Harry’s much-loved cherry Coke, and he had bought some fresh ice cream, which he left in the freezer. He balanced one bottle of Coke under one arm as he carried the plate to the bedroom, pushing it open with his hip. Harry had made quick work of getting undressed, and was currently just in his boxers, propped up against a pile of pillows behind him. His belly sat round and heavy, covered half his thick thighs, which he had generously spread out. Most of the tattoos he had had when he and Louis met were faded and stretched out over his thick arms, chest, and stomach, and Louis always loved to see them, how they stood out against his pale skin and were obscured by all his curves.

 “You look so good, god,” Louis gushed as he set the plate of food and soda down on the bed, “One second.”

 He opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a pair of black silk ties, and Harry smirked and lifted up his arms, letting his wrists against the metal bars of their headboard.

 “I always know you mean business when you bring those out,” he said, and Louis just grinned and leaned over, tying one of Harry’s wrists to the headboard.

 “I sure do, big boy,” Louis said, giving Harry a quick peck before he went to the other side of the bed to secure his other wrist. When he was done, he finally crawled onto the bed and settled himself in Harry’s lap, his legs on either side of his boyfriend’s thighs. He didn’t waste any time as he picked up a cup of ranch and a chicken tender, dunking it in the sauce a few times before  he offered it to the other man. Harry ate happily, taking a big bite and moaning as he chewed, and then happily finished the rest of the tender.

 “How was work today?” Louis asked as he reached for a thick fry, dipping it in ketchup as he lifted it to Harry’s mouth.

 “Fine,” Harry said in between chews, “I helped an old lady with her taxes. How about you?”

 “A kid spilled an entire Capri Sun on my piano, I almost had an aneurysm.”

 “Well,” Harry chuckled. “That explains why I’m having a dozen chicken fingers for dinner tonight.”

 “Uh huh,” Louis agreed, grabbing another piece of chicken. “All my stress goes right in this belly.”

 He gave Harry’s stomach a firm smack, and then went back to feeding him more chicken.

 Louis gave him three more chicken tenders and several more potatoes before Harry started complaining he was thirsty, and then Louis twisted off the top of his Coke and held the heavy bottle with practiced hands, setting it against Harry’s lips and tilting it back. He always drank it fast, and Louis always liked how it made his stomach swell quickly.

 When Harry was done with his soda, Louis took it away, and then quickly went back to feeding him. He always got lost in watching Harry eat; how eager he was, his big bites, how his face began turning red the more he ate. Three more chicken tenders, and Harry started squirming a big more, his breathing more swallow. Louis knew he was getting full, probably was dying to rub his own belly, but his hands were still tied to the headboard.

 “You want more, baby?” Louis giggled. He grabbed another chicken tender, dipping it in the thick ranch, and then brought it to Harry’s waiting lips. He smiled at Harry chewed contentedly, letting out a long sigh as he finished, only for Louis to shove the rest of the chicken finger into his mouth.

 “You look bigger lately,” Louis said, palming the curve of Harry’s belly. “I must be picking the right foods.”

 “You have,” Harry agreed with a long exhale. “That and I can’t say no to you.”

 “Harry, I mean, seriously,” Louis continued. He rubbed both hands along Harry’s bloated belly, pushing down a bit at the plushness. “Just a few months ago, you were so cute and chubby, and now you look fucking huge.”

 Harry groaned at that, closing his eyes as his cheeks turned red.

 “And look at this,” Louis pointed out, jabbing his finger into Harry’s underbelly. “I can see where your pants dug into you, you’ve needed a new size for weeks, and you wear 44s.”

 He delicately picked up another chicken tender and dunked it in the ranch as he kept rubbing Harry’s belly with one hand, pushing it roughly against Harry’s lips.

 “I mean, honestly, it’s so much weight,” Louis continued, shoving the rest of the chicken into Harry’s mouth, “Didn’t you play baseball or something in high school?”

 Harry grunted and let out a long sigh as Louis grabbed more fries.

 “You know damn well it was track and field,” Harry said. “And I was team captain.”

 “Well, forgive me for forgetting,” Louis rolled his eyes. He dipped down, kissing and licking the curve of Harry’s belly, and then grabbed one of the last two chicken tenders left.

 “You know I never would’ve gotten this big if I hadn’t met you,” Harry said, and Louis grinned.

 “Oh, baby, I know. I know,” he smiled, and then pushed the chicken tender into his mouth. He watched Harry chew, slow and labored, and then reached around him, grabbing his thick love handles and giving them a shake.

 “And for the record, I think you could afford to put on a few more pounds,” Louis said, reaching for the soda again. “Come on, open up for me.”

 Louis held the bottle steadily as Harry swallowed down the soda, and then he made steady work of dipping the last few fries in dipping sauce and feeding them, bit by bit, into Harry’s exhausted, open mouth. He was beet red now and groaning as he chewed, but Louis kept fondling and rubbing his bloated belly, feeling the heft and heat of it. Finally, there was just one more chicken finger, and Louis poured the last of the ranch onto it and then broke it, folding it in half so he could shove the whole thing in Harry’s mouth in one go.

 The other man took his time chewing, and when he finished, and let out a loud groan, struggling to catch his breath as he tried to collect himself. Louis set the now-empty plate and bottle of soda on the bedside table and then lowered himself down, kissing all over the impressive curve of Harry’s belly, then up to his soft, wide chest, his big, sensitive nipples, over to the fleshy, stretch-marked under parts of his arms. Then, finally, he was up to Harry’s face, with his round cheeks and his thick double chin and his sauce-covered mouth, and Louis kissed his fiercely, holding his fat cheeks in between his hands and he did so.

 “Christ, I’m lucky, aren’t I,” Louis sighed. “Grew myself the perfect boyfriend.”

 Harry just let out a labored laugh, and then winced as the mere action made his stuffed belly shake.

 “Don’t worry, you’re going to get a blow job out of this,” Louis said. “And your cock in my ass after that. Whatever you want for being so fucking perfect.”

 Harry sighed, tossing his head back and weakly flailing his tied hands.

 “Can you – oof – untie me first? My arms hurt.”

 “Oh, baby, of course,” Louis cooed, quickly moving to remove the ties. “Anything you want.”

 He untied one restraint, and then moved to the other, although he paused when Harry spoke.

 “Lou?”

 Louis glanced over, looking at his big, pink-cheeked boyfriend.

 “Yeah, baby?”

 Harry’s eyes sparked, a smile coming over his swollen, red lips.

 “You’re gonna get me dessert later, right?”

[quarantined-with-bucky]

Crash

Bucky x Reader

Words: ~ 4,900

Summary: Bucky learns what he likes about life: you

Warnings: Angst, but also fluff

A/N: Mildly inspired by “Crash” by You Me At Six!

...

Wait, where you say you've been? Who you been with? Where you say you're goin'? Who you goin' with?

There was a knock on your apartment door. Plucking yourself off the couch, you trotted towards the door, pulling it open. You were met face to face with Bucky, a smile immediately finding your lips. His visit was a surprise, he hadn’t said anything about stopping by. “Hey,” you greeted, about to stretch out your arms for a hug, stopping immediately when he didn’t return your smile. 

Oh. And that’s when you peaked over his shoulder and noticed Steve standing on the street, leaning against the car. “Sorry, doll,” Bucky apologized, offering you his arms for a hug.

You accepted, pulling him close and tucking your face into his chest. “’S okay, Buck.” He told you earlier that he may have to be leaving to go on missions, he couldn’t say exactly when or where. But this took you by surprise; it was the first mission he’d been sent on since he’s met you – since he started dating you.

“So, it looks like I’m going to have to raincheck dinner on Friday,” he mumbled shyly, pulling away, but still holding you firmly at the waist. He awkwardly chuckled, hoping you’d at least find light of the situation in his old charm.

You smiled up at him. “Let me know when you’re back?”

“You’ll be my first stop.” He moved a hand to cradle your jaw, leaning towards you for a goodbye kiss. You obliged, biting your lip and watching him saunter back towards Steve.

Bucky stood next to the man, giving you a stiff wave. “Make sure he comes back in one piece,” you call out to Steve, waving back at the both of them.

Steve laughed, waving back. “Will do, (Y/N).”

You stood frozen in the doorway, leaning against the frame as you watched the boys climb into the truck, pulling away, heading off to wherever the hell they were going.

Wait, keep me in your skin, Keep me in your chest. I'll wait for it to start, I'll wait for it to end.

Bucky sat at the camp sight, the soft light of the fire illuminating the picture before him. He held the edges carefully, the image creased perfectly in the middle from where he’d folded it up to fit in his pocket.

It was a photo of the both of you. You were at the bar, one around the corner from your apartment, that you took him to months ago. It was the night of your friend’s birthday, and you wanted to bring Bucky along to meet a few of your friends. He was nervous at first, not sure if they’d recognize him, if they knew his past, if they’d be scared of him.

However, everyone welcomed him with open arms. They didn’t ask him too many questions, didn’t pester him about his arm. Instead, they told him extremely embarrassing stories from your past. And, damn, it made him laugh; you were blushing like crazy, trying to cut them off after every story – doing so by buying rounds of shots if they promised to stop talking about you.

It ended up not working, everyone growing more and more intoxicated as they continued teasing you. But you found it to be all in good fun, just enjoying you night out with your boyfriend and your friends. You spent the whole night attacked to Bucky’s arm, linking your own two arms around his, his hand resting on your thigh. You buried your face in his shoulder to smother your laughter or after they said something embarrassing about you.

It was one of the best nights he’d had in such a long time; he doesn’t remember laughing for so long or so genuinely in a while. Your friend had secretly snapped this picture of you, sending it to you the next morning. You groaned and rolled over in bed; your few hours of sleep interrupted by your phone buzzing loudly. Bucky handed you your phone, holding back his laughter at your raging hangover. You mumbled an “oh my god” and showed your phone to Bucky, cheeks tinted pink.

It was dark, the bar had been dimly lit where you were sitting. Cups half full, empty shot glasses, and beer glasses littered the sticky table in front of the both of you. Your face was buried in Bucky’s shoulder, unable to conceal the drunk smile taking up your whole face. You held on tightly to his metal arm, the glare of the metal prominent in the photo. Bucky was gazing down at you, a similar grin painting his own lips.

As you tucked yourself into his side to resume sleeping, he took your phone and placed it on the bedside table, but not before sending it to himself.

That was the picture he carried with him on missions. He tucked it away into his breast pocket, hidden underneath his armor-plated vest, right above his heart. He patted atop his armor for safekeeping.

He couldn’t wait to see you when he got home.

Just crash, fall down, I'll wrap my arms around you now. Just crash, it's our time now, To make this work second time around.

It was eight days later when he showed up on your doorstep again. This time, when you opened the door, you were met with a smiling Bucky; he was clean shaven, his hair pulled back behind his head. He was wearing that red Henley you loved so much, and his arms were open wide, waiting for you to run into his arms.

So that’s exactly what you did: hopping off the front stoop into his warm embrace. He caught you, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, intertwining your hands behind his neck. The two of you stood on your front steps, embracing each other, kissing each other, for what felt like an hour. Eventually, Bucky made his way into your apartment, plopping down on the small sofa, not taking you off his lap.

That became routine for you two. Whenever he had to leave, you’d spend a whole day holding each other when he came back.

We grew up, We worked and changed our ways. Just like wildfire, Been burning now for days. Tearing down those walls, Nothing's in our way. I said, nothing's in our way.

Time flew by; before you knew it, it was your two-year anniversary. Two years of bliss, two years filled with commitment and trust and love. Despite taking it slow at first, after that first mission, you two became inseparable. Given the fact that he spent a lot of time with the Avengers: working, training, and on missions, you had no choice but to spend every bit of free time together.

You’d spent your fair share of time at the Avengers Tower, spending the night at Bucky’s place, joining him at parties, watching the sunrise on the roof of the skyscraper. But there was something about your place that Bucky felt more comfortable. He was like a giant in your tiny apartment. Meager living room, tiny couch, lined with pillows and blankets; modest kitchen, two small chunks of countertop on either side of the oven, shelves crowded with spices and utensils, pots and pans hanging off the pot rack on the ceiling above the island; crowded bathroom, utilities barely able to fit in the small room, no room to maneuver, shower head just too short for Bucky; humble bedroom, packed bookshelves, clothes strewn about, bed pushed under the one window, narrow enough that you have to sleep half on top of Bucky – not that he minded, except for the fact that his feet hung off the edge.

It made him feel small and safe. He hadn’t felt a home in a long time. He went from the frontlines of World War II to the empty cell of Hydra to a block of ice. He’d spent the majority of his life without comfort. And when he was welcomed to the Avengers, he hadn’t received much either. There were shrouds of hospitality, yes, but something about it lacked an intimate feeling. Vast corridors, high ceilings, large rooms; Bucky decided he wasn’t a fan of minimalism. He much preferred “cottagecore” as you liked to call it.

He loved to garden, taking care of your houseplants almost too much. He’d named all of them, from each viney philodendron to the splaying palm trees. He had an almost aggressive watering schedule. Soon, he began spontaneously bringing you flowers and houseplants – your small apartment turned into a jungle.

It was the morning of your second anniversary when Bucky asked if you wanted to move in together. “Do you mean you want to move in with me?” You clarified smugly, flitting your eyes above the coffee mug currently held to your lips.

He giggled childishly, happily. “Maybe,” he mumbled, drawing out the first syllable. He sipped his tea, mimicking you as you couldn’t contain the smile pulling at your lips.

You sauntered across the kitchen – as in, you took two steps closer to him and you were already chest-to-chest – and tilted your head up to his. He kissed you on the tip of your nose before you could respond, the grin on your face already confirming your answer. “You think you can fit all your clothes in my bedroom,” you teased, eyebrows raised in challenge.

He rolled his eyes, pointing his chin towards the open door of the bedroom. Piles of your clothes and his clothes thrown over chairs, folded on top and in the dresser – he practically lived with you already. “I think my clothes fit just fine in our bedroom.” His tone dropped, as did his face, burying it into the crook of your neck, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your collarbone.

You hummed, setting your mug down on the counter beside you, wrapping your arms around his neck and broad shoulders. You traced the top of his spine on the back of his neck, barely dragging your finger on the surface of his skin; the tickle brought a smile to his lips against your skin. “It seems so.”

And then he moved in. It’s not like he had much, anyway; everything he had technically belonged to Tony. He spent one Saturday bringing over his clothes – in which you graciously shoved into the dresser beside yours  – knickknacks – to which you’d decorated throughout the apartment, displaying them on shelves, on the walls, between pots of plants – and boxes of memorabilia. Bucky thought about stealing his king-sized bed, just so he’d be able to fit without curling up into you (also so you’d have more room to roll around), but he wasn’t even sure it would fit through the door. He wouldn’t change anything about it, though. Everything felt like home, it felt like you.

You shared countless memories in that apartment: long nights spent talking instead of sleeping as the New York City traffic blared through your window, endless nights of baking (and burning) desserts, numerous movie nights that half-the-time ended in the two of you having sex on the couch or falling asleep innocently in each other’s arms.

No matter how many times he woke up with cramps in his legs and a sore back from falling asleep on your tiny plush couch, he still couldn’t wait to do it again the next night.

…

“(Y/N),” he whispered your name, face pressed up inches from yours, pillows smushed together and against the wall. Your sleeping eyes fluttered, eyebrows twitching, and bridge of your nose crinkling slightly. Soon, though, you were completely relaxed again, and Bucky almost felt bad waking you up – but not really. “(Y/N),” he murmured a bit louder, this time smoothing your wild hair down against your head, pulling his fingers through the knots.

You hummed, stirring in the bed, inadvertently stretching, pressing your palms against the wall, toes lengthening to the edge of the bed, pulling the bedsheets off you (and Bucky). “’Sup,” you mumble, immediately closing your eyes again, burying your face into your pillow and tucking your hands underneath your chin.

He smiles, gazing down at your tired form, obviously exhausted from the night prior’s festivities. “Baby, wake up,” he almost groans, faux upset that you weren’t giving him attention.

“I’m up,” you hum, not moving – not even opening your eyes.

“Let’s get married.”

You laughed in your pretend sleep, reaching your hand out blindly up his arm and up to his cheek, patting it lightly. It wasn’t the first time he said it; although the other times he had either been extremely intoxicated or sleep talking. “Do you have a ring for me, darling?”

“I do.”

And with that, your eyes popped open, meeting his staring back at you. You then narrowed your eyes at him, crinkling your nose. He was beaming at you with a shit-eating-grin, hand curled under the pillow propping up his head, curled up like a goof. You couldn’t find any words.

“So,” he continued, filling the gap of your shocked silence. “Will you marry me?”

Sitting up in bed, you propped yourself up on your elbow, staring down at him. He quickly took the cue, flipping around and digging his hand around under the bed. He returned facing you, sitting up next to you, sheets pooling at his hips. He held up the box, opening it with his metal hand.

Your breath left your lungs.

“Bucky,” gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, eyes flitting between the ring and his eyes: blue, glossy, and glazed over with passion. “Oh my god, Bucky.” You kept repeating yourself, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“So…is that a yes?” He chuckled, nervously holding the box, gesturing it towards you.

“Oh my god, yes!” You nearly screamed, tears now fully flowing down your face, holding your hand out for him to place the ring gently on your finger. You then threw your arms around his neck, kissing your fiancé. He smiled through the whole kiss and you felt his heart beating next to yours.

You pulled back to fully look at the rock now sitting on your left hand. “I hope you like it; I had to go through my sister’s daughter, who had to go through a ton of old keepsakes and it took a while so I would’ve gotten it sooner, but – ” he cut himself off, realizing he was rambling when he met your growingly perplexed facial expression. “Anyway, it was my mom’s ring. And my pop saved up forever for it. I know it’s not huge and probably out of style and you deserve a million diamonds – ” he cut himself off again with a deep breath, anxiously scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought it would be nice – but if you don’t like it, you can just tell me and – ”

This time it was you who got him to shut up, leaning forward, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his lips to yours. “Bucky, I love it.” It was beautiful. The diamond was small, still in perfect condition. The gold band was twisted intricately around the stone, newly polished and sparkling in the light shining through the window. What was even more appealing about the ring was the sentiment behind it. There was no two people that Bucky looked up to more than his parents; he often told you stories describing how much they loved each other, how hard his dad worked to finally convince his mom to go on a date with him. He beamed with pride when he spoke of them, recounting their hardships but how that never impacted their love for each other.

There was nothing more he wanted – then or now – than to give pass his mother’s ring along to you. He just happened to be lucky enough that his sister and niece saved it after all this time. He admitted that he could’ve gotten you a new ring, probably through a loan from Tony. Bucky technically didn’t have an income – just Tony’s money. And he did, in fact, offer to buy you the most expensive diamond ring in the world, a ten-carat ring from Antwerp; but that didn’t feel right. This was the only thing that Bucky had actually felt right about in a long time.

…

One month from that day, it was your three-year anniversary.

It happened during dinner – one random Thursday while the two of you sat at the edge of the kitchen counter, enjoying a casual plate of spaghetti.

“What ­– ” You choked on your mouthful of noodles. Coughing slightly, you sipped some wine, washing the rest of your bite down. Then you repeated yourself firmly: “What?”

“You heard me,” he responded, casually, mouth full of garlic bread.

“Now?” You ask, eyes wide, but unable to stop the smile forming on your lips.

“Yeah, why not?”

You stood from your stool, holding your palms against the island counter on either side of your dinner plate. “You were the one who said you didn’t want to do anything special for our anniversary.” You laughed, completely knocked off guard, mind moving a million miles per hour.

He raised an eyebrow. “You really thought I’d say that without some trick up my sleeve?” And, in fact, you were surprised when Bucky wanted to have a very low-key anniversary – he’d always been one for romantics. “Thought you knew me better than that,” he smirked, throwing a wink your way.

You rolled your eyes and swatted at his arm. “Are you being serious?” You leveled with him, leaning over so you were staring directly into the eyes of the man sitting beside you.

He smiled back kindly at you. “What do you kids say these days? Deadass.”

And you burst out laughing. Maybe you were a bit wine-drunk – but, god, this was something you’d never grow tired of. And that was perfect, considering you had already agreed to spend the rest of your life with him. There, in all honestly, was nothing that made your heart flutter like Bucky being an old man. “Okay,” you then whispered, cupping his jaw in both of your palms. “Let’s elope.”

So that weekend, that’s exactly what the two of you did.

Bucky had “borrowed” one of Tony’s cars – he assured you that he asked to take it for the weekend, but the smile and laugh in his voice told you otherwise. There was no time to question him further – no need, in fact – as he threw your suitcase in the trunk and opened the passenger door to you, ever the gentleman.

It was a short drive to Brooklyn Botanical Garden. You’d taken Bucky’s word for it, a place he remembered from his childhood; it was somewhere his mother used to drag him to and roam around – obviously with time he grew to appreciate not only the memory but also the serenity. He knew that was where he saw the both of you getting married; he knew that seeing you adorned in white surrounded by the beautiful trees and flowers was a sight he would never get tired of imagining.

Now, it was a sight burnt in his memory, holding your hands in his, a simple white gown falling perfectly on your body, veil pulled back that made it seem as though you were surrounded by clouds, the beautiful angel you were, anyway. Your hair was free, moving ever so slightly with the soft breeze; cheeks tinted pink as your skin glowed in the sun that shined before you; a bright grin painted your lips, so genuine that it made small crinkles form around your eyes. God, those eyes – gleaming in the reflection of the bright light before you, sparkling with love and laced with anticipation.

You faced a similar view, Bucky donning a casual grey suit; you insisted that was the one he brought with, a light grey contrasting his dark hair and deep blue eyes. While you had no doubt that seeing Bucky in an all-black suit was one of your all-time favorite looks, this was much more fitting for the occasion. The bright morning sun, the light-colored leaves surrounding your union; black was too harsh. Black, after all, was the color associated with the Winter Soldier. His uniform was black, his mask, his pants, his boots – his whole life was shrouded in darkness. This could not have been more the opposite; it was untraditional color, but so was your wedding and, hell, your whole relationship.

It was you and him, the officiant and the witness. You couldn’t remember either of their names, and you didn’t care, either. The only thing that mattered was Bucky’s eyes staring down at you, your hands held in his large ones, him slipping the wedding band on your finger.

And the kiss: perfect. You didn’t have the words to describe it. One hand found your waist as the other snaked through your hair, holding the back of your neck, guiding your lips up to his. Your arms folded around his neck, allowing you to pull your entire being flush against his body. He gave you two pecks on the lips before pulling away, letting his forehead rest against yours, staring into your eyes, glazed over with tears. His heart was full, it took all of his willpower not to breakout in tears. “I love you,” he whispered.

Your smile never faltered as you repeated those words to your husband.

…

“Buck, I have to get ready for work,” you called to him, yelling over the sound of the shower running.

“I’m almost done,” he responded, peaking his head from behind the curtain.

You stood at the vanity mirror, holding your hairbrush in one hand, flat iron in the other, makeup bag propped skillfully on the corner of the sink, one wrong movement away from spilling all over the floor. The mirror was fogging up ever so slightly; Bucky always insisted on taking the hottest showers possible. You began work on your hair when the water shut off, curtain swinging open, Bucky stepping out to grab a towel.

The two of you were practically pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, your elbow actually jutting out to nick his side as he toweled-off his hair. He laughed, maneuvering so that he stood behind you, his reflection towering over yours in the mirror. “I think we need a bigger place.”

He frowned, holding his hands against your hips. “But I like this place.”

You set the hot instrument on the edge of the sink, turning around in his arms. “I think we’re out of room,” you replied, thinking of the stacked up boxes of wedding gifts everyone sent you; you didn’t have anywhere to set them out or store them, thus everything remained in their boxes stacked up in your living room. Books and clothes lined every wall of your bedroom; you couldn’t fit nearly anything in the bathroom – and, hell, Bucky didn’t even fit without having to crouch under the showerhead.

He smiled down at you as you ran the brush through his freshly washed brown hair. “I guess so,” he mumbled shutting his eyes, reveling in the feeling of you softly brushing out his hair. “Plus, we’re going to be needing some more room to grow.” He peeked open his eyes, shooting a wink in your direction.

You cocked an eyebrow and yelped when his hand tucked against the underside of your thighs, pulling you up against him; you locked your ankles around his back and held onto the back of his neck, droplets of water still rolling down the nape of his neck and down his back, tickling your skin. You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

“You’re telling me you want little baby Barnes running around this place? It’s kind of a hazard, (Y/N),” he teased, then pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You rolled your eyes and pressed your hand against his chest, signaling him to drop you. Once he did, you turned around, back once again against his chest. “House first, then baby.”

“Really?” He gasped, staring at you in the mirror, wrapping your frame in a backwards hug. His eyes lit up, a huge smile creeping on his lips.

“Better get house hunting,” you said, shooing him off to get dressed so you can finally get ready for work.

Crash, fall down. I'll wrap my arms around you now. Just crash, it's our time now, To make this work, second time around.

There was a knock on your front door. You set down the sponge you were washing dishes with, placing the bowl in the drying rack next to you. Wiping your hands on your jeans as you walked over to the freshly painted door. Bucky had painted it a deep forest green before he left. You’d been waiting for ages to find the perfect color, the best shade to match the cozy, rustic – cottagecore – living space the two of you had cultivated together.

Once the door was done, you felt it was finally finished. Everything was so much bigger, but you two made sure to fill it with large, comfy furniture, displaying all of your wedding gifts graciously (and obviously Bucky’s plants). He made you wait outside while he painted the door; he didn’t want you breathing any fumes in that could harm the baby growing newly inside you. You rolled your eyes: “It’s the twenty-first century, Buck. We don’t use lead paint anymore. It’s okay – plus I want to help.” You picked up a paintbrush, reaching towards the paint can.

“(Y/N),” he groaned, grabbing a hold of your wrist, instead holding it up to his chest. “I just don’t want anything to happen. Please,” he pleaded, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes, curling out his bottom lip.

A soft smile pulled at your lips and you quit protesting. “Okay, baby,” you giggled, gazing up into his blue eyes. He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, blushing hard as he did so, laying a hand to your lower belly. It hadn’t grown much, only three months – hell, it was still the size of a plum (which also happens to be your husband’s favorite fruit) – you weren’t even showing yet, nonetheless he was still so excited, so proud, so in love. And nothing had changed since he met you on day one. He still looked at your with the utmost admiration, a lustrous gloss in his eyes as he stared down at you. You’d only grown more beautiful by the day, to him. You were his to come home to, his to protect, his to love.

You spent the afternoon out front in the garden, pruning bushes, watering flowers, and pulling weeds. You’d detested yardwork – everybody did – but there was something about doing it while you called across the lawn to Bucky, still positioned at the front door, cracking jokes and sharing anecdotes that made it all worth it. You wouldn’t trade this for the world: to be able to do chores with Bucky, even the most menial work, because he enjoyed doing them, just because he got to do them with you.

You walked to the door, kicking a few rogue shoes out of the way, and swung it open.

You were met with the sight of a uniformed chest, straight ahead in your line of sight.

You dropped to your knees, holding your hands to your chest, feeling your heart race. You couldn’t breathe – you were almost feeling yourself for a pulse.

He knelt down and wrapped his arms around you.

It was just the two of you in that moment.

You buried your face into his chest, the tough leather scratching your face. The wetness of your tears smeared across the surface of the material, painting your cheeks. His hand rubbed up and down your back, cooing softly in your ear. You didn’t know if he said anything in that moment, your mind couldn’t register anything coming out of his mouth, your ears clouded with a loud ringing behind your eardrums.

It was a loud, open, ugly sob – you sounded like a toddler throwing a fit; damn, this was quite the tantrum.

You pulled back suddenly, fisting at the chest of his uniform. It startled him; he tore himself away from you quickly. There was no way of knowing what you looked like – eyes red and puffy, cheeks glistening with wet tears smudged along your lips and chin as well. You couldn’t even stop, as you pulled away to look into his blue eyes, your own tears kept flowing, eyebrows knitted together and breath still hitching. He looked tired – exhausted; you didn’t know how long he’d been torn up like this. His face was pale, cheeks red and irritated with tears, blue eyes filled with tears exactly like yours.

“Is he really gone?”

He stared at you for a moment, new, fresh tears flooding in his eyes and down his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip, unable to trust his own voice. But Steve found the strength to muster up two words, the words that made you bury your face into his chest again, crying harder than before:

“I’m sorry.”

[forgadgetsandgizmos]

Malex Drabble

* *

No one had seen Alex in three days. 

Which, okay, he left town frequently enough for the Air Force that it could be no big deal. But ever since Alex spent a week in a basement because everyone, including Michael, thought he was at a recruitment job out of town, Alex checked in when he left. Usually with Michael. And Alex hadn’t told Michael that he was planning on leaving, much less checked in.

Michael should’ve let it go. No one else is worried, there’s no dangers around, no lingering threat that could result in Alex being missing or worse. But Michael couldn’t shake the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

And he kept circling back to Alex hadn’t told him that he was leaving.

Which is how he ended up here, standing in Alex’s driveway and staring at the old Christmas lights still dangling from the porch, trying to shake off his paranoia without invading his friend’s private space.

On second thought, that’s exactly what he did last time and he turned out to be right. He started for the door. The game plan that time around had been Find Alex, and okay, it was the same here. Whatever, it was a good plan. At least this time he knows where the spare key is kept.

Michael jogged the last couple steps up to Alex’s front door and knocked loudly. “Alex?”

No response. He stood on his toes to peer inside through the glass in the top of the door. From what he could see, none of the lights were on and no one was moving around inside.

“Alex, I’m worried about you,” he tried. He knocked on the door a few more times. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming in. He backed away to dig the key out of a bottle buried nearby. “Using the spare key,” he added. If Alex was inside, it probably wouldn’t be helpful if he thought Michael was going to telekinetically break his lock.

When he was met with more silence, Michael unlocked the door and took a hesitant step in.

“Alex?”

He made his way around the house. The kitchen held a small pile of take out bags and dirty, plastic containers. Alex was here then, and eating. That was always good, Michael acknowledged.

He walked over to Alex’s bedroom door and knocked quietly, cracking open the door as he did and poking his head inside. A blindness darkness greeted him.

Michael blinked quickly, trying to help his eyes adjust as he took in the room. Heavy, drawn curtains blocked any light from the windows. Two large, empty bottles sat on the bedside table closest to the door. It was too dark to be sure, but the thin, tall neck made Michael think it was tequila. The bed held a pile of blankets surrounding a curled up figure in the center.

Michael let out a breath, his shoulders slumping.

“Alex, it’s me. Can I come in?”

He received a faint humm in response.

Taking that as a yes, Michael slipped into the room and shut the door behind him, careful not to make any loud noises. He slowly inched closer to the bed Alex had buried himself in. He wasn’t sure what the protocol here was. Alex was physically fine; Michael could see enough to make out the movement of the blankets from Alex breathing. Strands of hair peeked out of the fuzz pile and the sunlight in the hall shined back at him from Alex’s prosthetic where it was laying on the floor near the bed.

But Alex obviously wasn’t fine. From what Michael had seen, Alex had apparently spent the past three days of avoiding his friends in bed, ordering takeout, and day-drinking. While Michael may not have much experience with avoiding worried friends, he did have a decade spent deep-diving into a bottle or three in his belt, and multiple empty maybe-tequila bottles did not equal fine.

“Alex, what’s going on,” Michael whispered. He sat on the edge of the bed with one leg still on the floor, hand hovering over Alex’s body as he waited for a response.

After a few seconds, Alex reached a hand out of his pile and pulled the blanket closest to him tightly, framing his face.

“What are you doing here,” he croaked out, eyes still closed.

“I was worried about you. You haven’t responded to me or anyone else in three days.”

“I’m fine.”

Michael caught the blanket before Alex could pull it back over his head. “I see that,” he noted dryly.

Alex huffed and opened his eyes. “I am. You can go now.”

“Not until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding everyone in favor of alcohol and shitty take-out.” Michael kicked off his shoes and crawled over Alex onto the bed. He leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes. “I can sit here all day.”

He opened one eye to see Alex glaring up at him. “I’ll just listen,” Michael offered.

Another huff.

Michael closed his eye again and waited. A minute or two later, he felt the mattress moving under him. He opened both eyes to see Alex sitting up beside him and offered him a smile.

Alex’s lips twitched in response and Michael felt his own widen to a grin.

Michael waited patiently beside him.

“I got a phone call,” Alex started. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor well-away from Michael as he spoke. “I loved being in my squadron. Some of the guys were family in a way I hadn’t had before, you know?”

Loved. Were. Michael stopped smiling.

“Flint and Clay always felt really distant. When I was a kid, I thought it was because they remember Mom. And I love Gregory, but we weren’t super close as kids.”

And Flint and Clay were two peas in a Jesse-spawn pod, Michael wanted to add.

“We has to be together all the time, we didn’t have a choice but to get close. There were four of us that were,” Alex tutted, searching for the word. “I don’t know. Saying brothers feels weird considering my real brothers.”

“I get it,” Michael said softly. He and Max and Isobel, they weren’t actually siblings. But Max and Iz were so important to him, to his life on Earth, and to his past, that calling them brother and sister felt inadequate. “They were real. What brothers should be.”

Alex nodded. “Besides me, it was Hunter, Jamie, and Patrick. Hunter and Jamie died in the same explosion that blew off my leg. Which. . . sucked. But Patrick was okay. He stayed with me as long as he could in the hospital in Germany. He missed their funerals to stay with me.” He took a steadying breath. “He had to ship out eventually. He was assigned a new unit and left for an eight month tour about six months ago.”

Alex looked up to meet Michael’s eyes. He schooled his face, trying to project a sense of calmness and security. He just hoped that the grief and pain and mourning he saw in Alex’s eyes wasn’t echoed in his own.

When Alex spoke again, it was so soft Michael had too strain to make out the words. “Patrick’s new unit chief called three days ago. He - he’s dead.” Alex voice shook as he choked back a sob and leaned into Michael.

Michael gripped Alex tightly and pressed his lips to his forehead. Michael didn’t - he couldn’t comfort this. He had lost a whole world. . . but he hadn’t know them. He lost his mom but, so had Alex. She might not technically be dead, but she had left when he was so young and stayed gone so long that she might as well be. The only think Michael had to compare was Isobel and Max and if he lost them. . . well. He’s sure he would be in the drunk tank in a lot worse shape than this.

“Alex,” Michael said softly, turning to press his cheek against Alex’s head, “When I was a kid, I spent years imaging what it would be like to lose Max and Isobel, either when they got sick of me and left or if they got caught and were killed. I planned out how to be alone, as much as it killed me to admit that, since that implies I wasn’t alone with them,” he chucked lowly.

Michael buried his free hand in Alex’s hair, letting the soft, dark strands run through his fingers. Alex stayed quiet. “I stopped because I met someone who was different. He treated me the same way Max and Iz did and no one had ever done that before. In my experience, people weren’t just nice for no reason. Even Max and Iz treated me like they did because they viewed me as their brother. And this guy, I could never seem to drive him away. And I certainly tried my best,” he admitted, “especially after graduation. He was the fucking sun and he made me realize that I wasn’t better than everyone else. It kinda opened up my world.”

Alex stirred at that. “Life isn’t a rom-com, Michael.”

“Okay, but it is a telenovela. I mean hello, alien from outer space here.”

Underneath him, Alex made a sound that reminded him a baby whining.

“You interrupted. There was more,” Michael chided jokingly. He gave Alex a light flick on the head. “I would still fall apart if I lost Max and Iz. That hasn’t changed. But I would want to keep on going now. Because of you. And you don’t have to get over this or be okay because of me, that’s not what I’m saying-“

“Michael.”

Michael shut up. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Alex finally moved from his half-laying down, half-sitting up position and looked at Michael. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Alex smiled sadly at him and let his hand hover over the side of Michael’s face. “Thank you.”

Michael’s eyes lightened. “Thank you,” he returned. They were words he’s been waiting to say to Alex for over a decade. Since they were seventeen and stupid in love. He owes Alex so much.

They weren’t seventeen anymore. Picking a place to make-out that wasn’t the pickup of Michael’s truck was no longer their biggest hurdle. Now, that would have to be a toss up between the giant government conspiracy, the alien-DNA-targeting-bomb, and the various murders him and his siblings were hiding.

No, they definitely weren’t seventeen anymore. But as Alex curdled back up under his blanket mound and buried himself into Michael’s side, Michael knew that, for him, that was the only thing that had changed.

[phonecallwithsatan]

just look for my owl (three)

a.n. : I am in awe that there are TEN of you that follow me. I don’t even care if I get bullied for geeking out over ten followers. I’m so happy and glad you all enjoy what i’ve written. My lovelies, here is chapter three of this series. I think its getting interesting but im too scared to add mature stuff in here because i dont know how you all will react. Look at me, speaking to my ten followers. It’s a press conference at this point. Chap. four is soon to follow tonight so please keep out for that! This fic is a they/them reader, so  I will only refer to you as they/them. 3k words, fred weasley x y/n, enjoy!<3

Our beloved Fred Weasley falls for Ilvermorny student [y/n] [l/n]. He’s determined to get to them, but the only way he can is through post sent through the two. The only thing left for the pair is to just look for an owl.

Check out chapter two before you read this!

☾

It had been four days since that owl came in to deliver Fred Weasley’s Professor a parcel from [Y/n l/n]. 

It had been four days since Fred hadn’t stopped thinking about [y/n].

Luckily, no suspicions from his professor were brought up about the missing photo, and he was glad. The professor even came in during his quidditch practice to chat with the students cheerfully, even taking a few photos of the team as a whole and separately. 

Today was the 31st of October, and the Triwizard champions were chosen shortly after Fred began to dig into his food, irritated at the interruption that faced him.

Or maybe he should say the Quartet champions now that Harry was facing the tournament too.

Dinner wrapped up a bit after that, and the two twins carried on to their dorms surprisingly silent the whole way. Not causing any ruckus or speaking even.

Perhaps it was because they were disappointed at the selection of Harry even though he was younger than the two twins. They could have had a chance now that he was chosen, but Fred knew that it wasn’t about that.

He didn't know about his twin at the moment, normally he does, but Fred was in a hurry to get to his dorm and sleep, as he had no homework.

Everyday for these past four days, Fred has dreamed about [y/n]. Dreaming, thinking, pondering, it was all connected to them. Not a particular storyline, not at all, his dreams were more of the idea of a real-life physical them.

[y/n] in his jumper, [y/n] in Hogwarts robes, their hand in his under the table during dinner at the great hall, how they would say his name in any context. His thoughts were severely occupied with them and Fred was okay with that.

These ideas followed their way through the portrait hole, into the Gryffindor common room, and up the stairs to the boys dorm. 

He had yet to wash himself off after his long day, so Fred went off to the left side of the dorm to access his trunk at the end of his bed. He takes out a simple orange towel and closes the chest up. He then takes off his sweater vest only to place it on his bedspread.

Walking over to his bedside table, Fred decides to let [y/n] take a dip into his daydreams as he looks in his drawer for the photo of them.

No, thinks Fred. No, no, no, no, no, cascading words now fill Fred’s brain as he panics about the fact that his polaroid was missing.

The polaroid of [y/n] was now missing from Fred’s bedside table, confused as to how exactly he misplaced something so golden.

His whole dresser was obviously rummaged through. There were a few sickles missing along with an extra jar of ink and- his stash of Fizzing Whizzbees and Jelly Slugs. He genuinely frowned at the candy more than anything else, but then he remembered about the photo that was missing- stolen now.

Fred whipped his head back to see who was in the boys’ shared dorm, and the only person he saw was his twin chatting with a visiting fifth year student. 

Now completely turned, Fred walks to the front of his bed and pulls out his trunk, wondering if he had left it in there by accident, but it was no luck.

“George,” started Fred with his back to his twin.

George turned to his brother. 

“What is it, Fred?” He asked with confusion. He noticed the drawer hanging on by a thread off the rest of the table and decided to completely disregard his conversation at that point. “I’ll catch you later.” 

As the friend walks out of the boys’ dormitories, Fred begins to explain what had happened, hand motions waving around. They usually appear when there is something wrong.

“Someone rummaged through my stuff,” Fred motions to his dresser, “did you let anyone else come in here and mistake it for yours?” 

George looked at his twin with furrowed brows until his face lightened up a bit from the clarity. 

“Yeah, actually. Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff was in here and he asked me for some ink.”

“George, what the hell.” Fred was beyond confused as to what, first of all, Cedric Diggory, one of the Triwizard champions, was doing in the Gryffindor common room. Why he was needing ink in the middle of the day and why his drawer. “You let him go through it? Half of my items are missing.” Fred was furious at how irresponsible his brother was at the moment.

“He was desperate and I felt bad.” A simple response from a boy with little to no empathy when it came to using a twelve-year-old student as a lab rat for their inventions. A particular unnamed candy that is still a work in progress gave her severe diarrhea for weeks straight.

“George, he stole money, candy, and t- What is wrong with you?” He cut himself quick before he could expose [y/n] to his brother. He was mad at him and now was not the time to gush about them.

“It’s fine, we’ll talk to him tomorrow.” George laughs at his twin for being unmanageable, but Fred is unamused.

“Piss off.” Fred takes his towel and goes town to the bathrooms, bringing a change of clothes with him.

☾

Fred was a bit after hours for students, but he couldn't wait to get the bath located in the prefect's bathroom.

Yes, Fred had snuck in there, but that's because the boys’ dormitory bathroom was disgustingly filled with too many boys in one perimeter. So with this in mind, Fred knew exactly where to go to relax from the fuming that happened between himself and his brother.

Fred dropped his towel by the edge of the water and took off his shoes. Setting them neatly by the towel, he began to work on his shirt. He loosened his tie but not all the way so the loop in it would stay. He began to unbutton his shirt, hands working a bit slower than normal. He did not come here often, nor was he a prefect, so he took his time.

He looked up from his hands and Fred looked at the mermaid mural on the stained glass, thinking of [y/n], the beauty remarkable from either photo. Not that Fred was comparing physical features from the mermaid and from [y/n], he was rather just acknowledging how both were, to put it literally, breathtaking. 

The colors from it shaded his body in colors of pinks and blues, diluting a bit now that the white shirt was shrugged off his body. The color was not as vibrant now, but his light skin and freckles that were splattered all over his chest created a new palette of shades.

He dropped his shirt on top of his other items and he undid his belt, leaving it on the belt loops of his pants as he takes them off as well, folding them up unlike his shirt and dropping them on his pile of clothes. All he had left were his boxers, and they were soon added to the tower of items on his right side.

He stepped into the water while simultaneously checking for any other visitors. It was a bit late for that, though, considering that he was completely exposed at that point. 

The moonlight shone through the glass, some areas of the floor painted colors with the light. The water was flowing from a few taps and bubbles were flying everywhere. Fred shifted a bit from his old placement in the giant pool so his arms were now propped on the edge.

Now with the photo in the hands of a certain someone he considered a snake, even though they were in Hufflepuff, Fred needed to confront Cedric for not only his money, his candy, and his ink without consent, Fred needed to confront him about [y/n]. What kind of a freak just steals a photo? 

Oh, thought Fred. 

What if, somehow, Cedric gets a hold of [y/n]? Impossible, he reassured himself. Cedric doesn't even know their name. He knows nothing. He's a loathsome rat who steals money, candy, ink, and photos. 

Smiling to himself for coming up with that description, Fred quickly goes down the same road again.

What if, somehow, [y/n] likes him, instead? What if- His mind was filled with ‘what-ifs’ and ‘somehows’ that clouded his brain. Cedric shouldn't have been running through his mind regardless. There’s just no possibility where [y/n] would even meet him.

He was consumed with someone who did not know he existed Fred was jealous that someone else was in possession of that photograph.

The only way to eliminate Cedric was to get to [y/n] first, and he knew his plan from the moment he saw their photo.

He was going to catch his professor at the owlery in the castle, and sneak his own letter in there. This way, both parcels would miraculously be carried over the Atlantic ocean.

His professor wouldn't notice and hopefully [y/n] wouldn't be too freaked out.

The tap finished spewing water and the room went silent except for a few drips coming from one of the spouts. Fred estimated his time and decided to waste none of it, so he dunked his head underwater out of impulse and came back up with his hair sticking to his forehead. 

He needed to write.

☾

Fred was now back in his common room sitting on a couch with his parchment spread out over his legs and couch, and his wet hair slowly dripping on it, making the ink smear a bit. He had crumpled up at least five different drafts of a few sentences while sitting there.

He was wearing grey pants and a gryffindor jumper, keeping him warm on the first day of November. It was about one at night and he could hear his brother, Ron Weasley, snoring from the upstairs dorms.

He dug up a few polaroids he had taken with his brother at the beginning of the year to drop in the parcel. Fred had decided to make this out to his mother, Molly Weasley, hence the photos would have been for her. Molly wanted photos taken with their new camera and photos of their new brooms for Quidditch being put to use properlly.

Normally, Fred didn't really use muggle instruments, but he did have a shared camera with his twin, George. Luckily, a shop in Hogsmeade sold refills for it.

And they would have, Fred and George ended up taking photos of themselves during Quidditch practice, making sure to hide the camera from teachers and spectators so it wouldn't be taken away. Snape would make it his life goal to snatch it away from them when really it did no harm.  They took photos of their jerseys, the field, a few separates, a few with the team, and two separate ones of the twins. They were planning to give them to their mum, but these photos would be put to use differently.

It was a brilliant plan in his eyes. [y/n] would surely respond to his so-called mistake, right? Hopefully they would send a letter back, and maybe a few polaroids for himself to keep. It’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Fred began his sixth attempt at writing out a letter to his own [y/n].

Mum,

We miss the burrow. And you and dad, of course. 

As promised, the photos. We think you’ll really enjoy these, since you probably miss our ravishing looks.

There’s not much to write about, mum. Ginny is okay, Ron is alright, and George is asleep somewhere right now. Otherwise, they would have scribbled something on here.

Fred

It was too short but he couldn’t think of anything else to write to his mum. She had written to Ginny a few days prior so he had given all viable information to Ginny’s response letter.

He reacted quickly to the water that dripped off his hair and snatched the parchment before it could bleed and combine with the ink. The script was perfect, absolutely incomparable to his other drafts.

Time moved fast and it was now two in the morning. Fred took his parchment and placed it neatly in the parcel. He took his stack of polaroids and placed them in the parcel.

Almost forgetting, Fred searched through the polaroids and found the two individual snapshots of the twins in their uniforms. Molly constantly mixed the two up when they wore their quidditch uniforms, always forgetting who was #5 and who was #6. Their own mother. It severely got worse every year.

From totally forgetting to absolutely forgetting, Fred forgot that this letter wasn’t even going to reach his mother. He had already marked up the photos though, that was just an afterthought.

He looked at the photo of himself and his twin standing in front of the center field, astonished as to how clear it was. He could see his features perfectly unlike the photo he previously had of [y/n] that was blurry but nonetheless readable.

Shoving the photos back into the parcel, he wrapped it up nicely and carefully wrote the address of the burrow on it.

His plan was slowly coming into action, and Fred was just excited to see it play out.

☾

Fred had ended up spilling everything to his twin the day he planned to sneak his letter along with McGonagall’s.

“So you have no clue who [y/n] is, and you’re providing photos of you and your friends to this person, might I add again, who you don’t know? Fred, this is ridiculous.” George was talking to his twin in the corridor right before the owlery as they were both waiting for the professor to return with a response letter. Fred had been holding onto the parcel for a few days now, and yesterday, he saw that familiar brown owl arrive again.

McGonagall greeted the owl mid-class and took the letter in hand to place it safely in her desk. The owl remained on the window perch for the rest of class.

Fred wasn’t able to see who sent it, but he knew that owl all too well to be mistaken for someone else owling his Professor.

Just as Fred was about to respond to his brothers snarky question, they heard footsteps down the hall and they began to walk up to the owlery.

They had decided to distract McGonagall with a familiar owl, Hedwig. Harry had been complaining how she had been squawking too much for normal. Harry wouldn’t mind, though, because he never had to know that his owl was involved in a hopelessly romantic ploy.

Fred and George were now in the owlery next to Hedwig, feeding her snacks they had brought for compensation. It was only fair to her that she got something in response. A few strange squawks escaped her beak.

“Good morning Mr. and Mr. Weasley. Are you writing someone?” McGonagall was an expert at knowing who was who just off the back of their heads. Granted, she could probably tell the two apart without them turning around. 

“Just paying a visit to Hedwig here, professor. We need to get going soon.” George glanced at Hedwig mid-sentence and gave the professor a small smile.

Their plan was failing terribly. McGonagall was getting her owl ready for the journey by winding the ribbon around its leg to hold the letter more in place. 

Normally, Fred and George would just place a note in Errol's beak, but since it was a longer distance they would have to find a way to tie it around the owls leg.

Luckily, Hedwig served as an amazing distraction as she began to choke and squawk on the snacks they were giving her. It was a time of crisis but the twins had to act fast.

McGonagall turned to the twins and quickly discarded her owl to help them. She pushed them aside and began to aid the choking owl, George began to laugh a at the visual of an owl choking, but quickly put it away as he got a scolding look from McGonagall, who was now shaking the owl. 

Fred used this distraction to run over and tie his letter to the owls leg, attaching his and his professors letter to the owl. The animal began to flap its wings, confused as to why an unknown ginger was picking at his feet, but Fred was too busy to yell at it.

By attaching his letter to McGonagall’s owl, Fred didn't need to get authorization from someone to send it. He also did not have to get it searched, as he was sneaking it through.

He turned to see George motioning him to hurry, laughing at the same time because his professor was still talking to the bird, trying to get it to stop choking. 

Fred was able to tie the letters successfully and shooed the owl quickly, noticing how the two letters weighed it him down a little, making Fred laugh too. He didn’y understand how he pulled it off, but he was happy it worked- somewhat. The owl was steadily flapping it’s wings but Fred could see that it wasn’t used to that type of weight on its feet.

He speed walked back to his professor who was oblivious as to what happened behind her back. The twins were wrong for laughing at the McGonagall who wanted to just help them deal with the animal cruelty they put on Hegwig, but it was a visual they would never forget. And truly, it was a little funny and dramatic.

Fred wondered again how the hell his absurd plan worked, but he was glad that he was able to send out the parcel, and avoid murdering his friends owl with food.

“There, girl. You’re alright. You spit out.” McGonagall consoled the owl by patting her head. She turned to the twins and scolded them for being so irresponsible with someone else's owl.

“Potter doesn’t know, does he?” She asked.

The two twins looked at eachother and ran off laughing, leaving McGonagall clueless to everything that just happened. 

Soon after that, Fred realized that he had just created the beginning of something new in his life. Something that he had yet to receive not in person, but rather in a form of a letter.

All he had left to do was look for that Brown owl.

[costcohotdogslut]

DAY 1

“Welcome back viewers! As we just saw before the break, our celebrity housemates have all entered the Big Brother House and have officially started the game. Will personalities clash? Are alliances already forming? Let go to the live feed to find out!” said host Julie Chen.

As the screen shifts to a view of the living room, we see all the castmates lounging around and getting to know one another.

“So this is it everybody, the Big Brother House! I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t wait to get the game started!” said Jake.

Met with some cheers, Miranda decided to speak up. “I know, right? And it’s crazy that we all pretty much know each other already!”

This was true. Seeing as how this was the first season of Celebrity Big Brother in the US, the producers decided to go with a cast of the hottest, youngest, most talked about singers and actors. Apart from Jennifer, who was a milf, and James, who they needed as the sacrificial lamb to go home first. Plus, there was nobody messier than an ex-Disney/Nickelodeon act, so this season was guaranteed to be a disaster (in the best way possible).

“Which is why I’m assuming you’re all going to be fighting over me! Naturally I’m the strongest player here, the best looking, I’ve competed on Dancing With The Stars, and would’ve made the finals if it wasn’t for that stupid bitch from Full House.” James gloated, an awkward silence amongst the housemates as they all just stared at him. “Now, if you’d all make your case as to why I should be in your alliance, I can start making some decisions!”

“Loike… this is litcherally the first time I’ve even heard of you, and you’re acting a little dodgy mate, know what I mean?” Charli responded.

“Huh? Whatever, don’t want some foreign bitch in my alliance anyways. Anyone else?” James asked, only to be met with a chorus of boos.

Truth be told, James knew he was laying the asshole-ishness on a little thick, but he came into the game with a plan; he was going to be the season’s villain! Everybody loved a villain! But judging by the looks he was getting from everyone, not even 20 minutes into the game… he figured that he would lay low for a while until they all cooled off.

“Whatever. If you guys need me, I’ll be in the gym.”

As James awkwardly left the room, leaving the other housemates stunned, Dustin cleared his throat.

“So… who’s up for some cocktails?” He asked, met with enthusiasm, of course, because he was Dustin.

After an hour or two of socializing, naturally everybody began to go their separate ways, heading to the bedrooms to claim their beds and no doubt start strategizing about the game.

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“A twin bed? Are you kidding me??” Sabrina exclaimed, tossing her bag to the side and sitting down with a huff. “If the producers seriously think I’m gonna sleep on this pile of fucking rocks, then they have another thing coming!”

“I hear you bestie… JAKE! DIEGO! Come here now!” Logan yelled out, his current boyfriend and ex-boyfriend running over to his beck and call. “I’m gonna need you two to push all three of our beds together, like, now. I’ll let you two figure out who gets to share with me and who gets the floor. In the meantime, I’m gonna go find Charli and Lorde, we’re all gonna have a group meeting.”

As the two males quickly got to work and the blonde knocked over a bedside table in frustration, they heard Victoria call out from across the room.

“Hey guys, look what I found!��� Victoria beamed.

In its own little part of the house was a separate room decked out fully in gold, with a small seating area and a huge California king bed.

“Oh, so this is where my bed is! Thank god I didn’t already start unpacking.” Sabrina said, throwing herself back on the bed and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Uhm, I’m pretty sure this is actually me and Dustin’s bed. I let the producers know about our accommodations before we entered the house.” Victoria replied, causing the blonde to give her a look.

“Err, no it’s okay, I’m fine having my own be-“Dustin said before Victoria put a finger to his lips to shush him.

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll handle it. Sabrina, get off, you’re messing up Dustin’s side of the bed.”

“No! Why do you two get this giant bed to yourselves! That’s not fair!” Sabrina shouted, getting in Victoria’s face.

“Oh, but for whatever reason you think you’re entitled to it?” Victoria shouted back, Kendall trying to pull her aside to stop the fighting.

“Guys, I think this bed might be for me, there’s an outlet next to it and I need somewhere to plug in my CPAP machine.” Lorde said, suddenly appearing in the room alongside them.

“Oh, this room is nice!” Raini said, appearing in the room with Carlos and Max beside her.

Housemates! I see you’ve all found the Master Bedroom. There’s no need to fight over it, as you’ll all have the chance to claim it, so long as you’re the current reigning Head of Household.

“See? There’s no reason for you two to fight over the bedroom after all!” Kendall said, throwing an am around each girl before they shoved him off.

“Stay out of it, Kendall!” They shouted in unison.

“But what about my CPAP machine?” Lorde asked.

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In one bedroom, Logan, Lorde, Sabrina, Charli, Diego, and Jake were all huddled together in a circle.

“Now, I’m sure you can all figure out why we’re together right now.” Logan said, standing up above the others. “You see, I’ve decided that I’m going to take all of you to the final six with me!”

As everyone cheered, Logan cleared his throat. “Jake, could you go stand guard at the door and make sure nobody’s around? We need to talk business. First plan of action, who are we evicting first?”

“I vote Carlos. Physical challenge wise, I think he poses the biggest threat.” Lorde said, with Jake nodding his head in agreement from the door.

“We can vote Carlos first. But if it’s a mental challenge, then I think Raini poses a threat too.” Sabrina said, Charli agreeing with her.

“You both have a point, I guess we’ll just have to see how the first challenge goes.” Logan responded, pacing around the room with his hands behind the back. To the side, Diego sat quietly, a troubled look on his face. “What’s wrong Diego, you look like you don’t agree with us.”

“No, it’s not that Logan, it just that… this alliance… don’t you all think it’s a little obvious? I’m sure the others already expect us to team up, and I feel like they’ll try to pick us off one by one. I don’t know, I feel like we’re just setting ourselves up to be targeted.”

“Gee, Diego, it sounds to me like you don’t want to be in the final six, do you? If you’re just going to sit there and backstab us already, feel free to leave the room!” Logan scowled, pointing an accusatory finger at Diego.

“NO! It’s just that-“ Diego responded before being cut off by Logan.

“Save it. All in favor of voting Diego out of the alliance, say I!” Logan barked, the other four all yelling out a cheerful “I!”.

“Fine. When this alliance backfires, Logan, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Diego said before storming out of the room.

After a brief, awkward silence, Jake spoke up. “Soooo… does that mean we’re the final 5 now?”

Before anybody could answer that, suddenly a loud crash came from the nearby closet, with Jennifer falling out in a tangle of clothing and hangers.

As everybody glared at her, she let out an awkward chuckle. “Okay, so maybe I was eavesdropping on all of… that… but what can I say? I live for drama!”

“Cool. So… would you be interested in joining our alliance and being in the final 6 with us?” Logan asked.

“YES! Oh my god, I’ve been avoiding Kendall all day, I just know he was going to ask me that question any second.” Jennifer exclaimed, being met with open arms by her new alliance mates.

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Meanwhile, in the common room, the rest of the housemates, minus James, Carlos, and Diego, were all gathered together. Max, Aly & AJ, Victoria, and Kendall were all playing charades, with Victoria, his partner, screaming at him for his god-awful impersonation of an mime (why couldn’t he have picked something more obvious, like a toucan?). On the couch sat Raini and Miranda, who were playing scorekeeper for each team.

And in the gym, James and Carlos were both lifting weights, with Carlos being James’s spotter.

“I can’t believe it’s already almost the end of the day, and NOBODY has asked me to be in an alliance with them! Everyone in this house must be a complete fucking moron if they don’t see just how valuable I am to have on their side!” James, said, grunting as he pushed the bar above his chest up and down.

“Uh, yeah.” Carlos responded, half-tempted to let go and let the bar fall on his former bandmate’s chest.

Truth be told, Carlos would rather be anywhere but here. Him and James had only spoken twice since the indefinite hiatus of Big Time Rush, and he was shocked/upset when he saw him walk in the house as a fellow housemate. They had had a bit of bad blood due to… something, that had happened between them back in the apartment.

Carlos wasn’t stupid. Earlier during their workout session, James had asked if he wanted to form an alliance, and he knew it was only because nobody else wanted to be around him. But, before coming onto the show, Carlos had binge watched every season of Big Brother, and if things went as they usually did, there was much more of a focus on physical challenges at the beginning of the show, with the challenges becoming more mental as the show progressed.

So he would be in an alliance with James, at least for the beginning. At least until he could join a stronger one.

“Well, whatever. Looks like it’s just me and you against the house then, bro.” James said, pushing the bar off of him and taking a swig of his water. “So I don’t know about you, but I say we vote that british chick out first. Didn’t like the way she was talking to me earlier.”

“Charli?? Why? She’s not even a threat!” Carlos asked.

“Well then let’s evict Kendall! He’s fucking annoying, and I’m pretty sure he was watching me get dressed to work out.” James responded, Carlos facepalming himself as James clearly had no idea how to strategize.

“Let’s… discuss it when the time comes. Do you mind spotting me?” Carlos said, but before he could say anything else, another figure had entered the room.

“Oh, hey guys… mind if I be in here with you for a bit?” said Diego, also donning his workout attire with a towel draped over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, that’s fine.” Carlos responded. He had never met Diego before, but he had certainly heard about him before. When he and Logan had broken up, Diego was the first guy Logan had rebounded with, and from what he had heard through the grapevine, things had gotten pretty serious between them. For whatever reason, they had broken up, seeing as how Logan was dating Jake now (not that Carlos was keeping tabs or anything, Logan’s personal life was just VERY publicized on gossip sites and the tabloids). He was going to question why he wasn’t with the others, as he had been before, but he decided against it, seeing how bothered he had looked when he walked in.

“Nice to see a fellow alpha male in the house. The name’s James.” The taller male said, putting out his hand to shake, which Diego reluctantly took.

“Diego.”

“Well Diego, me and Carlos here were just doing a few reps, care to join?” James said.

And for the next hour, the three of them did, falling into a… somewhat comfortable chit chat. They mostly just talked about fitness regimes, and then outside projects they had worked on (none of the ones James had named off ringing a bell in Diego’s head). Diego, of course, droned on and on about the podcast he does on woodworking, even if the other two didn’t seem as interested. And Carlos talked about life as a now-married family man, and the struggles of managing a career and a billion-dollar enterprise alongside it.

Eventually, the three of them had all tired out, taking the time to catch their breaths.

“Nice work out, man.” Carlos said, James nodding his head in agreement.

“Yeah, we gotta do this more often. You know, I was thinking… three alpha males likes us, dominating the competition? We’d be unstoppable, and nobody would suspect a thing. What do you two say we form an alliance?” James said, the other two taking a second to think it over.

“Yeah… yeah that sounds good actually.” Diego said.

“Me too… but first things first, I think we oughta hit the showers.” Carlos responded.

As the three of them made their way over to the restroom, James stopped dead in his tracks.

“Just so you two know, I’m not gay, so don’t get any ideas in there.”

However, despite his disclaimer, the three of them did end up fucking in the shower, with James in the middle, Diego in the front, and Carlos in the back.

Looks like some of our housemates are getting to know each other pretty well. To see the exclusive footage and catch other behind the scenes clips, make sure to tune into Celebrity Big Brother: After Dark.

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Attention housemates! If you would all make your way to the common area, we are about to begin our first Head of Household competition!

As everybody got situated on the couches, the main screen lit up, with host Julie Chen appearing on the screen.

“Welcome, everybody, to the first Head of Household competition. To start things off, and to commemorate our very first celebrity edition of Big Brother, we’re going to be doing things a bit differently this time. Prior to tonight, we asked viewers to vote for their pre-season favorite housemate, so hopefully you made a good impression in your introduction packages.” Julie said. “The winner of America’s vote will not only be the first Head of Household, they will also be responsible for choosing the first two nominations tonight, with one of you going home. Because we haven’t implemented a Power of Veto just yet, these two nominations will be locked in. Now, is everybody ready?”

“Ready!”

“Perfect. Now, in a landslide vote, America chose their favorite housemate to be… Raini Rodriguez! Congratulations, Raini, as the first Head of Household, tonight’s nominations fall in your hands. Feel free to discuss amongst your housemates, and let us know when you’re ready to nominate.” Julie said.

“Thank you, Julie, and thank you America for choosing me to be the first Head of Household!” Raini said. “So, first off, I guess I just want to say that whatever happens tonight, I hope there’s no hard feelings amongst any of us. We were all chosen to represent the first season for a reason, and I know that it’s going to be a great season. ALL of us are stars, and the sixteen of us are absolutely all within the same caliber.”

“Except for James.” Charli said, causing a VERY loud and hysterical reaction from everybody. Aly & AJ were rolling around on the floor, Miranda was fanning away the tears forming in her eyes, and Jennifer couldn’t stop cackling!

“Guys! Guys! No, I request the floor, guys!” James sputtered out, not expecting for him to suddenly be the laughing stock of the cast. “I’ll defend myself a little bit! No! I’ll defend myself a little bit! Guys! Okay, okay okay okay okay OKAY!”

“BITCH! Sit your ass down and shut the hell up, bitch!” Kendall shouted, standing up and feeling the blood rush to his head as everyone, if it was even more possible, became more hysterical and on the verge of pissing themselves. It was as if he was living a real life episode of drag race, and everybody else respected him and thought he was hilarious! Victoria had actually ended up peeing herself a little from laughing so hard, meanwhile Max was scrambling to take a hit from his inhaler.

Sitting down, still feeling flustered from all the praise, Kendall crossed his legs to hide his very obvious erection, no doubt needing to RUN to the bathroom after the eviction ceremony to take care of his little problem. Seeing how bright red James was, and the superiority complex he felt over the male that he had worshipped all these years… he actually already took care of his problem. Well, one of his problems at least. He’d have to change out of his shorts and do a load of laundry, now.

Once things had somewhat settled down, and James was sitting in his chair, steam practically shooting out of his ears, Raini stood up.

“Okay Julie, I think I’m ready.” Raini said, taking a second to compose herself. “This may not come as much of a shock, as seen by the… reaction, all of us had moments ago, but the first housemate I have to nominate for eviction is… James.”

“Oh fuck this! Are you kidding me?” James said, crossing his arms as he sat back, beyond furious with everybody around him.

“Very well, Raini. James, that means that you are up for eviction and are at risk of being voted out of the house tonight.” Julie said from the screen. “Now, Raini, please tell us who the second person is that you are nominating tonight.”

“Before I say her name, I just want to say that I have absolutely no ill will against this girl. She’s a great person, and a fellow Disney colleague of mine, but I feel like her attitude earlier today wasn’t the greatest. The second person that I am nominating tonight is… Sabrina.”

“WHAT! Is this some fucking joke?” Sabrina exclaimed, as producers told her to sit back down and not cause any more trouble.

“Very well. James, Sabrina, that means the two of you are up for eviction. Before the other housemates make their way to the confessional room, you each have 30 seconds to state your case and explain to the others why you deserve to stay in the Big Brother household. James, you are up first.” Julie said.

Standing up with his hands in his pockets, James was clearly agitated, but did his best to force a fake smile for the others. “Well, what more can I say than that I’m a strong player, a great potential ally, and if you all decide to keep me in the household, I’ll give you guys a shout out on my patreon, maybe even give you a feature on an upcoming song! We can do a vlog together for my Youtube channel! Whatever it is you guys want, I’m open to collaboration.” Sitting back down and still forcing a smile, he definitely felt a lot better about his standing in the competition.

“Thank you, James. Sabrina, you’re up.” Julie said.

“If you vote me, a GIRL, out of the house over a GUY, then that means you’re probably misogynistic.”

…….

“Is that it, Sabrina? You still have twenty seconds to make your case.” Julie asked.

“No, I think I made myself loud a clear.” Sabrina responded.

“Alright then. Housemates, one by one, you will make your way to the confessional room to cast your vote, and then we will announce which celebrity housemate will be leaving us tonight. Going alphabetically, Aly & AJ, you’re up first.” Julie said.

One by one, everybody cast their votes.

Aly & AJ: “We vote James. We didn’t like the language he used to some of the women here in the household, and we think it’s time for him to leave.”

Carlos: “James. I know we’re in an alliance, but I can’t align myself with somebody like him, it will only affect my game.”

Charli: “James.”

Diego: “I’m sorry to say it, but James.”

Dustin: “James.”

Jake: “I wanted to vote for Sabrina because she was being a little mean to me earlier, but I forgot she’s on my alliance, so I have to vote for… James.”

Jennifer: “James.

Kendall: “Well… I was going to vote for Sabrina, but I don’t want people to think I’m a misogynist! Plus I think he saw me earlier watching him undress, and I’m kinda afraid that he might put a pillow over my face while I sleep! So I vote for James! >~<”

Logan: “James. I fucking hate him.”

Lorde: “I vote for James.”

Max: “I thought he was a cool dude at first, but he really showed his true colors tonight, so James.”

Miranda: “I have to vote for James.”

Victoria: “James. But I have a feeling that Sabrina has her eye on Dustin, so I’m definitely watching out for her.”

As the housemates all made their way back to the living room, the camera panned on both James and Sabrina, both looking extremely nervous as they awaited the results.

“Thank you everybody for casting their vote. After tallying the votes, we had a 13-0 unanimous decision… James, I’m sorry, but you have been evicted from the Big Brother House.” Julie announced.

“You know what? FUCK all of you, you’re all a bunch of goddamn losers. I didn’t even need to do this show, you know! And to think my own two allies voted me out too, what a fucking joke.” James exclaimed, the rest of the cast glancing around to see who the two people were that he was referring to.

“And that concludes tonight’s eviction ceremony. James, please make your way to the jury house, and we will see you once more at the finale for the final vote.” Julie said, as James stormed off. “That has been tonight’s episode of Big Brother, tune in tomorrow to see what else our housemates have in store from this. Also, be sure to watch the live feeds on Big Brother: After Dark, and watch behind the scenes clips on BigBrother.com. This has been Julie Chen, thank you, and goodnight.”

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Day 1 Statistics:

Head of Household Wins:

Raini: 1

Current Alliances:

Alliance 1 – Logan, Lorde, Sabrina, Charli, Jake, Jennifer

Evicted Housemates: 16th- James

[readyplayerhobi]

Caramel Latte

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 2k

; Synopsis: You take Hoseok to a popular convention as a birthday present and get to see him in his element for once.

; A/N: Short and sweet, don’t expect much from it! :)

Peppermint 01

-

Saturday mornings are normally for sleeping in. Or at least, they are at Hoseok’s place you’ve discovered. He liked to either game or watch films till the early hours of the morning with you before crashing in bed for the next few hours. The lack of work the next day meant that he fully engaged in his night owl activities, even if you preferred to be in bed by 11. 

Recent events mean that sometimes he’ll change it up a little and go to bed at 2am instead of 3am, only he’ll spend that remaining time entertaining himself with you instead. Apparently, you were a worthy enough distraction to break him away from his important gaming sessions.

What that means normally, is that you can’t raise the man until at least 10am. Sometimes even 11. Or, after that intense StarCraft session he’d had the other month, 1pm. You’d soon discovered that your boyfriend sleeps like a rock and is nigh on impossible to wake until he’s ready, but you can never find it in yourself to be annoyed at him when he sleeps so cutely.

Dark hair a messy pile on his head, soft lashes creating dark shadows on his cheeks while his lips pursed out in the sweetest pout. And that’s to say nothing of the odd positions he gets himself into during the night hours. Yes, he’s a cute sleeper along with being a very, very deep sleeper.

But not today. Today, Jung Hoseok had woken far earlier than you had. In fact, by the time you were blinking blearily at the clock on the hotel bedside table he’d already showered and was halfway into his clothes. 

It takes you a few moments to recognise what you’re looking at before you’re sighing and rolling your eyes with a slight smile. A month ago, for his 31st birthday, you’d surprised him with tickets to GeekinCon, the largest pop culture convention in the country. It was ridiculously expensive, but it had been worth it to see his face light up with sheer excitement in a way that you’d never seen before.

He hadn’t even been this excited when you’d gotten together, or the first time you’d slept together. Which had made it all the more sweeter when he’d bounced, no vibrated, on the sofa next to you with the biggest smile on his face.

The last month had thus been spent with Hoseok frantically spending his free time constructing an outfit to wear. You hadn’t particularly understood what on earth he was on about at first, until he’d shown you pictures and you’d realised with growing horror that your awkward boyfriend, so shy that he flushed just being looked at, wanted to dress up as one of his favourite comic book characters.

And not only that, he’d wanted you to dress up too.

You hadn’t wanted to, but it was hard to say no when you’re notoriously timid and nervous boyfriend was so willing to do it. So you’d said yes, and he’d happily made a costume for you too.

Which meant that you spend the next hour getting ready and carefully applying makeup to match the character he’d chosen. But you have to admit, it’s completely worth it as you both stand in front of the full length mirror that hangs on the back of the bathroom door and you get to see the blindingly white smile of Hoseok’s, the heart shape taking over while his eyes narrowed into crescents of pure happiness.

God, you were so whipped for this guy.

He’d chosen to dress as Doctor Strange, meaning that he had a rather magnificent looking red cape over his blue outfit and an intricate looking chain around his neck. You weren’t familiar with the comics, but you’d seen the film and thought he looked pretty damn good either way.

Benedict Cumberbatch, eat your heart out.

And he also looked rather dashing with the white streaking through the sides of his hair, the top gelled back off his forehead. He’d had to forego the whole moustache business, but still. Hoseok made a rather enchanting Steven Strange.

Given the short time frame and the amount of time he’d spent on his own, and boy was it a surprise discovering that he could sew and all that, your own costume was much simpler. The Scarlet Witch from the film universe, made easier as all it had truly required was buying matching clothing. He’d made mutterings that the purists wouldn’t like it, but you didn’t understand what he was on about honestly.

It just made him happy to have you dress up with him, so you did it.

You thought it looked nice though, and the red leather jacket was pretty enough that you were pretty positive that you were going to wear it after the convention. It was easily recognisable who you both were thankfully and you were just content that he was.

The next hour is spent just getting into the convention centre itself, waiting in the queue before finally being let loose in the cavernous halls. You’ve never been to one before, and you can’t help but look around in admiration at the sheer scale of everything.

The main floor is split into booths, with each one being occupied by a different company or series. Some are purely sales booths, hawking their posters and figurines to the legions of equally geeky people walking around while other booths are gargantuan monoliths to the game, film or television series they’re promoting.

They’re full on with a complete immersion of the senses with your eyes and ears being bombarded with lights and music, almost to the point of it all being a little overwhelming.

You see a full scale police car advertising some zombie horror game along with an incredible display of cool models at the Marvel stand, the very sight of it making Hoseok practically squeal with excitement. In fact, you seem to spend a lot of time taking photographs of him stood in front of a lot of the stuff while he smiles and poses brightly.

It’s cute, and his sheer enthusiasm for the whole event is infectious. 

“Come on, t-take a picture with me! We have to! It’s Thor’s hammer and Cap’s shield!” Hoseok says eagerly, gesturing to you before leaning forward and taking your hand. Your cheeks heat slightly at the sight of everyone waiting for you both to finish so they too can have a turn before you lift up your phone and turn it into selfie mode.

The screen fills with both your faces and you angle it until you have the models in view as well; Hoseok’s smile so vivid that it’s all you can see when your thumb snaps the photo. Before you can even say anything, he’s taken your phone and is pleadingly asking the next person to take a proper photo.

You’re beyond fascinated that your introverted boyfriend has suddenly become this extroverted ball of animation. He didn’t even stutter when asking that and you just look up at him with wide eyes as the photo is taken. The phone is handed back to you by the person, who you only just note is wearing a Captain America outfit.

“You two are cute together.” He says, grinning before standing in place while Hoseok’s reaches for your hand once more, fingers twining together before he’s pulling you through the crowd.

It’s only when he stops in front of the DC booth that you get a chance to run your hand along his arm, getting his attention as he looks down with a raised brow. A bit of his hair has slipped out of position and is laid against his forehead roguishly, causing you to reach up and move it out of the way.

“What’s up? Are you okay? Do you need the restroom? Are you hungry? I think the food place is over th-” You stop him with a hand to his chest, letting it rest there against the smooth clothing before your fingers play with the chains of his necklace idly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy. Or confident.” He pauses for a moment, lips pursing before they turn up in a bashful smile, his cheeks turning a soft golden pink as he looks down at your interlinked hands.

“I love these things. It’s...everything I love in one place. I’m too excited to be shy. Besides, everyone here is like me. Nerdy, and I think a lot of them want to pretend to be someone else too. And I get to share it all with you.” Hoseok looks around wistfully, biting his lip and you look around too.

There’s plenty of other people who are dressed up as their favourite characters, being stopped by random people for photographs as they pose happily. You’d both been stopped plenty of times already, and you’d watched with wide eyed amazement as Hoseok of all people had posed with plenty of vigour and excitement every time.

This was the man that was often too shy to take photos properly  with youand yet you were pretty sure that you had more photos today on your phone of him than from the last 9 months of dating. He really had become another person when he’d put on that cosplay, and you enjoyed his bout of self-confidence.

“That’s good, I’m glad that you’re happy and enjoying it. We’ll have to do this again then. Only you can have more time for your outfit.” Hoseok’s eyes brighten, the harsh lighting of the centre making them almost look like they sparkle as his smile spreads once more. You’re half convinced that he’s never going to smile again after today because he’s done it so much.

“Really? You’d really come back? Or go to another? With me? And dress up?” Snorting, you lean into him and push him towards the DC booth where a giant Batmobile is set up. Despite his avid arguments, you know that he secretly loves everything DC just as much Marvel.

“Yes, I’ll go with you again. This is nice, it’s like I’m seeing an unfiltered you. You cranked up to eleven. The you that I know and love but in public. And next time, I want to be Batgirl and you can be my Batman.” He looks dubious at that for a moment, eyes narrowing as you wait in line for the new photo op.

“I dunno...I don’t think I’d suit a Batman. I’m not...buff. Nor am I all,” He proceeds to make some unintelligible noises that are a few octaves below his normal voice, causing you to laugh. “No...I can be...ooh, Nightwing. He has a cool suit.”

“Sure babe, you can be whoever you want. As long as you keep smiling at me like that and looking this happy, I don’t care.” Hoseok looks at you for a moment, eyes scanning you over before he smiles big and presses his lips to your forehead firmly.

“I love you. Have I told you that today?” You smile and shake your head almost childishly, enjoying the way he looks at you so purely. Once you go home, you have no doubt that he’ll revert back to himself but for now, you just want to enjoy this outgoing Hoseok in his element.

“Well I do. I love you, and thank you.” His voice starts off strong before tailing off, cheeks reddening while his eyes lose their confidence as you stare at him firmly. There he is; your Jung Hoseok is still there. Just hidden for a little while.

That’s fine, you think to yourself as you tell him you love him too and wrap your arms around his waist, as long as you’re happy.

[lovelyrocker]

Love Is Blind Ch.36

~ RPF

~ Characters: Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles, Lexi Ackles(OFC)

~ Pairings; Jared x Lexi(OFC)

~ Warnings: None

~ Word Count: 3,085

~ Un Beta'd - All Mistakes Are My Own

~ *FEEDBACK IS GOLD*

 Love Is Blind Masterlist

<Previous Chapter

Lexi rolled over in her queen bed, the sound of the wind whistling outside made her shiver, the blanket slipping from her shoulder. Jared tightened his arm around her naked waist pulling her against his firm bare frame. The tree branches scratched against the windows, Lexi opening her eyes in the dark room.

"Is it still snowing?" Jared mumbled into her hair.

"I think so." Lexi sat up reaching for Jared's shirt on the floor. Jared bit is bottom lip seeing the sheet slide down her bare back in the pale light that shone from beneath the bedroom door. "It sounds like it’s gotten worse out there." Lexi commented turning out her bedside lamp to find her panties. 

She slid them on and opened her curtains to see glowing white snow falling from the sky in a heavy downpour.  Jared having slipped on his boxers was behind Lexi peering out the window. 

"I think it’s safe to say we are in a full blown storm." Jared said sarcastically. Watching as the wind bent the trees as if they were rubber. The snow moved across the ground as if snow piled on the ground was a white ocean of waves. A tree branch snapped, the wind sending it flying into the power lines, sparks lightening up the sky with a bright flash of white. Jared and Lexi jumped back as the entire house went black. "You okay?" Jared asked Lexi.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She felt her way to her side table. "I have a flashlight somewhere."

The bedroom door opened and a beam of light shone through. "Y'all okay in here?" Jensen asked as Lexi turned on her flashlight. Both Jensen and Lexi then turned their light on Jared, Jensen only seeing his naked upper half. "Please tell me you're not entirely butt ass naked."

"I have underwear on." Jared answered with his hands up.

"Thank God." Jensen breathed out before turning to Lexi. "You may want to spend the night downstairs where it will stay warm."

"We'll bring blankets down." Lexi smiled at her brother.

"Fully clothed!" Jensen flashed his light back at Jared. "If you don't mind." He walked out of the room with an eye roll.

"Here." Lexi giggled handing Jared his pants. "You're not getting your shirt back, though."

Jared slipped his pants on. "It looks better on you anyway." He leaned forward buckling his pants placing a kiss to her lips.

 Jensen had pushed the giant L shaped sofa close to the huge fireplace that was burning so bright it lit up most of the giant living room. Jared had hauled down an arm full of fluffy blankets and plush pillows. Lexi was in the kitchen, the kettle beginning to whistle on the gas stove. Jared leaned his shoulder against the wall,arms crossed over his chest and a smile on his face as he watched Lexi fix a cup of tea. His eyes scanned over her, his cowboys t-shirt nearly reaching her knees, her bare feet and pink pedicured toes. The dark wine colored hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back in thick waves.

Lexi looked over at him seeing Jared through the dim candle light across the room. "What?" Lexi paused smiling at Jared. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Jared dropped his arms and walked over to Lexi slow and calculated. Like a lion inching towards its prey. He took her face into his hands and kissed her hard. 

"What was that?" Lexi asked out of breath when Jared finally pulled away. 

"I love you." He told her running his fingers through her hair before resting his hands on her cheeks. "I love you so much and I'm glad we are looking past our stupidity."

"I'm not calling it stupidity. I'm calling it stubbornness." Lexi corrected. " And I love you, too." She met his eyes. "More than you know." She placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. They walked into the living room Lexi handing Jensen his cup of tea and crawling onto the couch next to Jared. "I can't believe after all the storms y'all have been through and all the times the power went out, you two still never got a generator." 

"Because usually we're on set." Jensen said getting comfortable. "You're gonna freeze in just that shirt." He pointed towards Lexi cuddled up next to Jared.

"Have you ever slept next to Jared?" Lexi hitched her thumb towards Jared. "His body heat makes me sweat."

"No, I've never had the pleasure." Jensen said sarcastically.

~

It was early morning, close to twelve thirty am. Jensen keeping an eye on the storm with his phone, as long as the internet holds out on his cell. He looked over at Jared, a book in hand, his other arm draped over Lexi. She lay with her head nestled between his chest and arm, her legs wrapped with his and her hand resting on his stomach. He saw Jared look down at Lexi with adoration before placing a kiss on her head. 

"I'm glad you two fixed things." Jensen said from across the couch.

Jared glanced across to Jensen. "Yeah, me too." He placed his book aside. "I know it doesn't make sense but, when we were apart I felt so lost." 

"Cause she is your anchor." 

"I know she is." Jared gave a grin. 

"And you're hers."

"You think?"

"I know." 

Jared pulled himself up some, Lexi's head sliding down to just above his stomach, her arm wrapping around his waist.  "Can I tell you something? Without you being a big brother about it?"

"Of course." Jensen asked standing with a stretch. "Wanna drink?"

"Yeah, sure." Jared pulled himself up to sit better, careful not to wake Lexi. Jared pushed her hair from her face and kissed her cheek softly once more.

Jensen smiled, pouring him and Jared a glass of scotch handing it to him. "So," Jensen sipped. "Spill." 

Jared smiled. "With Lexi it's so different." He took a breath focused on the sip of the golden liquid at the bottom of his crystal glass. "You know, a big part of what kept Lexi and me at odds for so long was my fault." He confessed still focussed on his drink. "I've never-" He gave an exhale. "It terrifies me how much I love her." He finally looked up from his cup. "With Gen, yeah I loved her so much, I did. But with Lexi it’s different. It’s so much more. And that scared the crap out of me because I thought Gen was the one and it was end game. I mean she's the mother of my kids. Then we divorced."

"Then Lexi came to Vancouver." Jensen added.

"I can't even tell you what it was. But from day one when I saw her again after all that time, it was like a growing seed that I didn't even know had been planted." Jared looked back down at his glass. "Then we kissed and-"

"When did you kiss for the first time?" Jensen asked sipping his scotch.

"The night of her birthday party. When she was sixteen." He kept his eyes cast to the glass. "Cassie and Ellie took over her bed so she crashed in mine. When I came out of the shower she was asleep and for some unknown reason I leaned down to kiss her cheek. She turned at the same time and I kissed her lips instead." Jared gave a small huff. "She turned in and kissed me back." He smiled. "It was like she set a fire inside me. I-I couldn't get her out of my head after that."

"Then not long after that the stow storm." Jensen motioned with his hands. 

"Yep." Jared poured he and Jensen another. "And now," Jared looked down at her sleeping form beside him. "Aside from the kids, she's my everything."

Jensen watched the look in Jared's eyes as he spoke of Lexi. The way he explained his emotions and feelings was exactly how he felt about Danneel. He knew Lexi felt the exact same way about Jared. If his baby sister  was gonna fall head over heels in love with a guy, at least it’s someone Jensen knew as well as himself. 

Lexi stirred giving Jared waist a squeeze. "I'm glad you two are having yet another bromance moment, but lower your voices."

 "Sorry baby girl." Jared smiled.

"Sorry , Punk."

"Its cool." Lexi sat up next to Jared. "So, what's the topic at," She turned the watch on Jared's wrist to read the time. "One am?"

"Nothing." Jensen chimed. "Just guy stuff."

"Sure." Lexi rolled her eyes at her brother. "Whatcha got?" She grabbed the glass from Jared throwing it back. "Not bad." She tipped the glass up before placing in on the side table snuggling back into Jared's side. 

Jared slouched in the couch wrapping his arms around Lexi pulling her closer. Jensen downed the rest of his drink doing the same.

~

The next morning Lexi was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand, papers spread out on the table in front of her. The wind had finally calmed and the sun was trying to peak through the thick cloud cover. Jensen walked into the kitchen rubbing his eyes, hair a mess.

"Nice hair, Porcupine." Lexi smiled.

"Coffee?"

"Dumb question." Lexi pointed to the counter with her cup in hand.

Jensen poured himself a cup walking over to Lexi. "What're you working on?"

"Choosing the sketches for the new issue." She glanced back towards the living room. "Jared still asleep?"

"Mmhmm." Jensen mumbled filling his mouth with coffee. "He was still snoring when I got up. Tell me, how do you sleep next to him when he sounds like a freight train."

Lexi giggled. "He doesn't snore like that all the time." She took a sip of her coffee. "Most of the time it's a sweet humming sound." She smiled thinking. "I find it comforting."

'You would." Jensen rolled his eyes taking another gulp from his cup.

"Why is that?"

"Because you and Jare are equally weird." 

"You say that like it's a bad thing." She placed a handful of papers aside. "Not many people find some who is both the love of your life and a fellow weirdo."

"So, you're saying Jared is the love of your life." Jensen looked at his little sister who was clearly unaware that she'd made the comment.

Lexi paused mid reach for another stack of papers but didn't pick them up. She looked to Jensen and furrowed her brow. "What?"

"You just said Jared was the love of your life."

Lexi looked down at the pile of papers in front of her. "Well- I- he- we," A nervous chuckle was all she managed to get out fully. 

"Punk," Her eyes met his. "This is me you're talking to."

She leaned back in her seat with a look of deep thought on her features. "What I feel for Jared," Lexi swiped a hand over her face  giving another chuckled exhale.  "I have read about great loves and soulmates and, and these stories of people who find each other through the most horrific scenarios." She looked up to Jensen again. "I never thought happily ever after was real except in books. Till Jared fucking Padalecki." She gave a giggle. "So, yeah, Jared is the love of my life." She smiled at her big brother.

Jensen chuckled. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"Does that bother you?" Lexi peeked at her brother from over her coffee cup. "That the person I'm in love with is your best friend?"

Jared walked into the kitchen scratching his head. "Morning, baby girl." Jared leaned over wrapping an arm around Lexi's shoulders placing a kiss on the top of her head. 

"Morning, babe. Want me to get you a cup of coffee?" Lexi looked up at Jared as he stood up tall. 

"Nah, I got it." He reached grabbing her cup. "I'll get you a refill." 

Jensen watched as Jared fixed two cups f coffee and sat down next to Lexi. They talked while looking through papers and going over photos. He smiled when they finished one another's sentences and he watched as they poked fun at each other with little quirks and inside jokes. They really were in love. He sat back and wondered how things would have been different if he hadn't been such a hard ass. Would they be married? Would they have a kid?

"I'm sorry." Jensen said out of the blue causing Jared and Lexi to look at him in the most curious way. 

"For what, Dork?" Lexi nudged his foot with a smile.

"I'm sorry for all I did a few years ago." Jensen looked down into his cup.

"Jay, we talked about it. It's okay. We get it." Jared assured.

"Yeah we talked about it but I never really apologized for throwing yall lives into turmoil over this." He gestured between the two looking up. "I never should of forced you two to split up and given you ultimatums basically making your lives hell and forcing you to break each other's heart." Jensen looked at Lexi. "I'm not your dad and I didn't have the right-"

"Okay, first off." Lexi cut him off. "You raised me most of my childhood hood. I love dad to death but we all know the only reason you didn't adopt me is because no one wanted you to look like a weirdo because you were so young and I was almost a teenager."  

"Still." Jensen spoke sitting back in his chair. "I should have seen how much you loved him." He turned his attention to Jared. "And you, I should have known you would NEVER hurt Lexi."

"No hard feelings man, you know this." Jared assured once more.

"If I would have never done the crap I did maybe some of the shit that went down would have gone different."

"Like what?" Jared furrowed his brow.

"Lexi wouldn't have gotten back with Chris. She would have never let him back into her life and she would never have hurt herself like she did. And you two wouldn't have went back and forth for three damn years torturing one another." Jensen took a breath. "Lex, I felt like I needed to protect you because of what happened when you were fifteen. Like it was all on me."

"Shut up." Lexi snapped at him. "None of it was your fault, you dipshit. If you wouldn't have done what you did then I wouldn't know what I am capable of on my own two feet."

"And I wouldn't know how much this woman here means to me and how much she's changed my life and opened my eyes." Jared kissed the back of Lexi's hand.

"I wouldn't know what real unconditional love is. And that I deserve it." Lexi turned her attention from Jared to Jensen. "And I wouldn't know how amazing of a family I have. One that supports me and wants me. You all CHOSE me. When I was a kid you chose to be my family. And that was the best thing that has happened to me because look what it had brought me." Jensen smiled with a tear in his eye. "I mean, I get to deal with this oversized five year old for the rest of my life, now." Jensen and Jared let out a laugh. "I love you, you dork." 

Lexi stood and wrapped her arms around Jensen squeezing him tight, Jensen returning the hug with equal pressure. The light flickered on and Lexi stood. "And God said let there be light."

After putting the house back to the way it belonged the three of them dug out the driveway. The sun slowly made its return to brighten up the sky showing everything covered in pure white. It was truly beautiful. The sun didn't last long, though. By the time it fully broke through the heavy cloud cover, it was already beginning to set making way to night.

Back in Jared's room that evening they lay in his huge bed, each to their own devices as they rubbed their feet together, letting the other know they were there. It was a small comfort knowing they had the other back. 

Jared shifted his eyes looking over at Lexi, who was occupied on her tablet. He smiled at her concentration on her work, her stylus never stopping for too long. 

"Would you marry me?" 

Now that made her stop. She placed her tablet down looking over at Jared. "What?"

Jared turned onto his side facing Lexi. "If some day I were to ask you to marry me, would you?"

"I- are- are you asking me now?"

"If I did would you say yes?" He leaned up on an elbow placing his hand on her face looking into her eyes. "If I were to tell you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you and someday I want you to take my last name, would you say yes?"

"Jensen said not to marry young." Her eyes were borderline between excitement and panic.

"You're young, me not so much." He smiled. "And that's why I said someday. Not now because you're only twety and Jensen dd ask me to wait till you were older. But, when that time comes in the not too distant future that I wanted to make you mine forever, would you say yes?" He sat up face to face with her and reached beneath the pillow pulling out a small blue box. "Would you let me promise you tonight, that my intentions are to make you my wife some day?" Jared opened the box revealing a beautiful white gold band with pink/purple diamonds on either side of a round cut pink/purple diamond in the middle. 

Lexi looked from the diamond to Jared tears brimming her eyes. "You're saying you want to make this a- a forever thing?" She asked with no breath.

"That's the plan." Lexi pressed her lips to his as soon as she spoke. "So, no?" Jared pulled away, he and lexi letting out a laugh. Jared slipped the ring on her finger and placed a kiss on it.  

Next Chapter>

TAGS: @onethirstyunicorn @xostephanie @saxxxyjared @dreaminemz @squirrelnotsam​ @thevelvetseries​

[in-tua-deep]

I'm like, ridiculously invested in the Lumberjack lesbian mom au, so I have a question and an idea that bounces off the question. Does she know they have powers? And then what if they were in the city and she (or some other probably child civilian) gets trapped in like... A burning building or something, and Five gets her out but people see him and Reginald actually does show up, following the rumors of potential Umbrella Academy kids so Ellie gets to make good on her threat😂

She does! But not at first, they keep that under wraps because they assume that if she figures out they’re The Umbrella Academy then she’ll send them back oof and they have Vanya’s inclusion to throw off the scent as well because there’s six umbrella academy kids and seven of them

but i mean Ellie wasn’t exactly born yesterday one of these little sucker’s name is Five and sometimes they call each other by numbers or - on rare occasions - their hero names (usually only when they’re sniping at one another but Luther occasionally does it out of habit)

and these kids have weird trauma that pops up oddly. Like the fact that when Ellie is first getting everyone dinner she expects them to be,, you know,,, kids. Descend upon the food like a pack of ravenous wolves. They’re seven thirteen-year-olds they might as well be feral little gremlins regarding food they’re still growing. But nope they all very quietly pile around Ellie’s shitty table where they had to drag in like four chairs from various spots around the house into a mishmash pile and quietly wait as Ellie piles food on her own plate and she’s like “??? what are y’all waiting for???” and ben just blinks and looks at her oddly and is like “uhhh you haven’t given us permission to eat?” and ellie is just like “shit chow down kids y’all don’t need permission” but they’re all still hesitant and luther is like “how,, how much are we permitted” and ellie is just “????? i mean make sure your siblings get some but if there’s any left and you’re still hungry you can always go back for seconds”

just klaus being wide eyed and all “What’s seconds?? wait you’re telling me that after we’re done we can go back and get MORE food? just like that?” and ellie’s heart is breaking and also she’s mentally looking at her budget again about feeding seven ravenous children and figuring she’ll teach the kids to fish and what in the forest is edible 

(she’ll figure out soon enough the kids already know, they’ve been living in the forest for a while before they came upon her and she adopted them, so ellie won’t have to worry too hard about feeding them when they come home with buckets full of blackberries and mud on their clothes)

but the point is that she’s pretty sure your average 13 yr old can’t help with the lumber with the amount of ease that Luther shows. She’s also pretty sure that the way the kids keep squirreling Vanya off into the woods is pretty suspect and so are the patches of woods where the trees are blown down like a localized tornado. Plus it’s hard not to notice that sometimes Five will go off in one direction and show up in another place entirely.

they think they’re being so sneaky about it

it’s probably five that gives it up in the end

they’re all gathered in front of the tv watching a movie with songs and dancing. Let’s say footloose because why not. Allison adores movies and dancing and all of that and will often make her siblings dance with her along with the characters and so they all have the furniture shoved back against the walls as they goof around. Ellie is sitting on the couch and Klaus is trying to teach her how to knit to no avail (he’s just much better at it than she is, she just doesn’t have the patience for this kind of thing - but then again she’d thought the same of Klaus but he seems to enjoy having something to keep his hands busy when he’s sitting with Clyde sprawled across his lap)

someone moves wrong and stumbles into someone else and they trip and hands go flailing and Five flinches but he’s had training at avoiding projectiles pounded into his head (and his flesh, bruises upon bruises and blood dripping down his lip) and so he does what comes naturally to him - he jumps before Diego can crash into him. Not far, just a few feet to the left as Diego crashes to the floor, but they all freeze because Five jumped

in front of Ellie

and Ellie is scowling at her knitting which she’s pretty sure she dropped a few stitches fucking somewhere and she isn’t sure where but she barely looks up she’s just like “No powers in the house” and jabs at something with a needle that might be picking up a stitch but might also be losing another one?

“What?” Allison blurts out, echoes by the others

Ellie looks up, “I mean, I don’t mind you kids using them out in the woods or anything but shit’s breakable in the house and we’re on a budget. We can negotiate when you’re older if you like.”

“you KNOW?” Diego asks, wide eyed and somewhat alarmed

“Diego.” Ellie says patiently, giving up and passing her knitting to an alarmed looking Klaus because really he’s good and if anyone can save whatever the fuck she managed to do it would be him, “Seven kids popped up outside my house. Six of which have the exact same names as the kids from the umbrella academy or whatever. Klaus literally had a nightmare the other night where he screamed about ghosts. And don’t think I didn’t see you throw that pinecone at your sister last week. Y’all aren’t exactly subtle.”

as though it didn’t take ellie fucking forever to put two and two together tbh like she figured out about the powers way before she figured out about the umbrella academy thing. She went to town and saw a gossip magazine with a picture of them all wondering why they hadn’t been seen in public (as if reginald is going to admit to them running away) and ellie was like ‘holy shiT’ at the time

“You didn’t say anything.” Vanya says, shakily

Ellie just shrugs again, “Well I figured y’all would come clean when you felt comfortable enough to. I’m glad you’re trusting me with this.”

“You aren’t going to send us back?” Five asks what they’re all thinking, and he’s shaking like a leaf, blue sparking across his hands like he wants to jump away and is only held back by sheer willpower

“Fuck no,” Ellie snorts, then frowns, “I mean uh, heck no. Don’t swear, kids. But like, your dad was clearly a piece of shit and I wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire, let alone give him even a plant to take care of never mind seven kids.”

There’s a pause as they all digest that

“No powers in the house?” Ben confirms, because they’re all familiar with rules

“Like I said, breakable shit.” Ellie nods, “I trust y’all are being safe using them out in woods at least. Figuring out control is important, but I trust you guys to know what you’re doing. They’re your powers, after all. But - if you ever need me don’t hesitate to ask. I might be just an ordinary person, but I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve.”

“You aren’t ordinary.” Vanya protests immediately, steel in her tone and by the way that all the others spines stiffen Ellie can figure she’s stepped on another landmine. There have been a couple, and Ellie keeps the ones she’s discovered written in a notebook in her room so she doesn’t forget (don’t jokingly put luther in charge, don’t turn off Klaus’s bedside lamp because he’s scared of the dark, don’t use the word rumor in any conversation ever, don’t mention the kids mother, telegraph her movements to five before touching him, and so on and so forth and now she can add ‘don’t use the word ordinary’ to the list as well), “You’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met.”

There’s another lull.

“What happens if we do use them? In the house?” Five asks, voice so very quiet that it’s almost lost as Kevin Bacon loudly says something to the Preacher on screen. 

and Ellie has to think about that, because she hasn’t really imposed any actual rules on the kids outside of like,, normal ones. Please be back before dark. Make sure everyone has something to eat, you can always go back for more if you’re still hungry. Pick up after yourself. The usual. And really, what can she do to punish a bunch of superpowered children, anyway?

So Ellie grins at them, “Then Clyde gets to sleep with me for the night.”

Immediately the tension is broken as the kids protest and cluster around to grab at Clyde dramatically. Clyde snorts awake but gives his tail some thumps at the attention even if he looks a little confused at why he’s receiving it. These days the little traitor sleeps with the kids who let him in their bed and cuddle him at night, all of them piled up on the mattresses that Ellie had thrown on the ground as they nest in the room that used to be her ‘office’ 

(she’s working on the extension to the house for them, but for now they have to share a bedroom. Not that they’ve complained about it, in face Ellie feels like she’s going to have to consult with them on what they want their sleeping arrangements to be in case they end up just wanting one giant bed to puppy pile on - which is fine for now but Ellie is pretty sure as they grow older they’re going to want their own spaces)

okay this got away from me i haven’t even looked at the second half of your ask

honestly if reginald did show up he’d knock on the door and Ellie would answer and then she’d squint at him when he demanded to see the children and would be like “oh hey it’s you ya motherfucker” and she’d be like “nope no kids here”

and reggie would point behind her to the family picture that ellie had taken a month ago that she loves because all the kids are smiling and laughing and ben is holding a frog and klaus is covered in mud and vanya has a leaf in her hair and luther’s pantlegs are soaking wet but it’s them and it’s wonderful and it’s her new favorite photo ever

and ellie looks him in the eye and deadpans, “haven’t gotten around to switching out the stock photo”

and reginald forces his way in and Ellie is maybe about two seconds away from fetching her wood chopping ax for Reasons and then the kids come back piling through the door loudly and raucously with laughs that die off when they see exactly who is in their living room, the front door still swinging open and Ellie looking coldly furious

even Clyde reads the mood and whines and there’s a loud growling grumble which absolutely does not come from Clyde but instead originates from the doorway leading deeper into the cabin where Marmalade/Orange Idiot stands with back arched as he bares his teeth at the intruder like the true guard cat he is

“Kids go to the other room.” Ellie says, and when they move to protest she puts her foot down with a “Now.” and a significant look because Vanya looks like a ghost all the blood has drained so fast from her face and Five is trembling and Klaus has tucked him and Ben behind Diego with wide frightened eyes and she knows the kids are going to eavesdrop but she wants them out of eyesight of their worst nightmare at the very least

Reginald is thankfully silent as the kids troop into the other room

“Clyde you go with them,” Ellie orders the dog, because those kids need as much comfort as they can get right not, and then she looks at the cat, “And Marm, you go too.” and hey her and Marm may not see eye to eye on most things but they both love the kids and Ellie feels like they have an understanding on the level of “if this ass goes into the room with the kids tear him a new asshole” and Marmalade sticks his tail in the air and hisses one more time at Reginald for good measure before trotting off as though he intended to exit the entire time

and Reginald says something about the kids returning and picking up their training pronto and Ellie just cuts him off

“Sir Asshat.” She says, ignoring the small gasp because her kids are not subtle, “I’m going to be straight with you - why the fuck do you think you’re walking out of here with any of those kids.”

and Reginald draws himself up and is like “They are my children. I made them what they are.”

“You traumatized a bunch of perfectly good kids is what you did.” Ellie says, “Look at them. They have anxiety. But that’s not what I’m getting at - though I don’t quite count buying them as being yours to begin with they’re children not furniture - but what I’m getting at is: how are you going to make them?”

and Reginald looks startled

“Those kids in there,” Ellie jabs a finger towards the wall, “Are extraordinary. And on top of that, they have powers the likes of which I’ve never seen before. And you think you, Mr. Hargreeves, are a match for them? If they decide to really go against you? You think you can force them to do anything they don’t want to do?”

She jabs a finger at Reginald’s chest, forcing him to take a step back. Because he came here thinking he had all the power, because he’s a powerful man and money talks. But not here it doesn’t. Not in Ellie’s grandmother’s cabin, in her neck of the woods, not when she has seven children behind her and the man who still gives them nightmares in front of her.

Ellie bares her teeth in what might generously be called a smile if it didn’t look too much like she wanted to tear Reginald’s throat out. “You are very lucky, Mr. Hargreeves. Because if I was in those kids shoes? There wouldn’t be anyone left to come looking for me, you know? You want that luck to hold, don’t you Mr. Hargreeves?”

“Are you threatening me?” Reginald demands, but looks unnerved. And he invaded her home, wants to take her kids away, wiped the smiles off of her kids faces and left them quiet and trembling and afraid just with one glance at them.

“No, sir.” Ellie tells him, “Just pointing out a truth is all. Now Mr. Hargreeves, I’ll even do you a favor and give you another truth for free. You see, you’re going to turn around and get the hell off of my property. You’re going to leave my kids alone, and never darken my doorstep again. You’re going to go back to your sad, miserable, lonely little life and you are never even going to think in the direction of my kids ever again. Do you understand?”

“I could have you arrested!” Reginald says severely, drawing himself up. 

Ellie crosses her arms and looks to the side, where all the kids are now hovering in the doorway and watching this clash between the two adults. “Kids,” Ellie says, mild as milk, “If I were arrested would you bust me out?”

“Yeah.” Luther says, and the fact that’s it’s Luther who answers and has his face set in stone as he turns towards Ellie as if Reginald isn’t in the room. And Ellie is so fucking proud of him it hurts, “Of course we would.”

Ellie nods, “So you see, Mr. Hargreeves, the thing about family is that if you mess with one you mess with all. And I don’t think you really want to mess with us.”

And Reginald turns sharply to the door, cane flashing in the light and Ellie can see the kids flinch back and is kind of regretting not just going straight for the wood ax or maybe one of the kitchen knives or hey maybe just using her fists and going to town she’s pretty sure she can take this pasty old man

and reginald leaves and maybe he vows to return and ellie calmly tells him that if he shows up again she’ll consider him a trespasser and deal with him accordingly

and then he drives off and ellie goes back inside and the kids huddle around her and she sweeps them into her arms and presses kisses on their heads and cheeks and wipes away Vanya’s tears with one hand as she presses Klaus’s sobbing face into her shoulder and she promises them that she’ll never let them go back to their father’s care no matter what

even if that means taking the kids and running

“But your grandmother’s cabin - ” Ben starts, swiping a hand over his own tearstained face as Ellie reaches out to him

“Nana would understand.” Ellie tells him simply, “She’s dead, you’re alive. You come first over any silly little cabin, you hear?”

and that night everyone piles into Ellie’s room instead of going to their own, pressing against one another in a tangle of limbs that Ellie already knows is going to have her waking in the middle of the night sweating like a don’t know what but she can’t bring herself to protest not even why clyde hops in and so does the demon cat who she will never admit she likes

“If he comes back I’m going to kill him.” Ellie says, thoughtful as the kids settle around her, “You kids would help me bury the body, right?”

“If we killed him, do you think we could go rescue Mom?” Diego asks quietly, and Ellie is suddenly turning in bed because the kids only mentioned their mother once and then shut down entirely any other time ellie asked

“We don’t have to wait, sweetheart.” Ellie says, all thoughtful and maybe just a little bit vengeful and petty, “Tell me about your mom in the morning?”

and the kids snuggle closer and nod

and okay later when Ellie finally meets Grace she can admit that she expected an older woman around Reginald’s age not this lovely young woman with her 60s style skirt and her smile and oh she’s a robot?? okay yeah that makes sense there’s no way this literal angel of perfection could possibly be a mortal to begin with

yeah ellie might be fucked

[nancywheelxr]

oooooooo Steve being sick like the sick where you spill all your secrets and the kids find out that Steve is not okay and needs hugs

When Steve doesn't show up for their shift, Robin isn’t necessarily worried. Like, it's a shitty job, she’s not exactly thrilled to be here either.

It’s only when he calls up the store and mumbles his way into calling in sick, which, by the way, involves a whole lot of coughing his lungs out and slurring words that she’s guessing were can’t go, I’m sick, that Robin starts worrying.

When he does this three days in a row, getting less and less coherent each time, Robin officially levels up to what the fuck even, Steven.

So, after her shift, she does what her mother, bless her, always told her not to do: she goes to a boy’s house when she knows his parents aren’t home. And goddamn, she kind of hates that she knows Steve keeps his spare key under a rock on his mother’s stupid rose bushes by the front door. Honestly, what a freaking cliché.

Steve’s house is exactly like he described once– big, cold, and empty– and Robin shivers, tucking her jacket tighter. 

“Steve?” She calls, fidgeting by the stairs. Should she just, invite herself in? Well, she kind of already did that, but–

A coughing fit echoes from what she assumes must be one of the bedrooms. Yup, upstairs it is, nevermind being polite or whatever.

“Just keep coughing,” she tells the empty hallway because holy shit, there’s way too many bedrooms and patience has never been her virtue. 

Obediently, or more likely unconsciously, Steve coughs again. Gotcha. It seriously sounds like he’s racking up a lung, Robin is kind of afraid of what she's going to find there.

“Holy crap, dude,” she says, stopping at the doorway because holy crap, dude, Steve looks awful. His skin is sickly pale and sweaty, his hair is either sticking up or matted to his forehead, there’s a trashcan near his bed that she is so not going to look inside and tissues are piling up on the floor. At any other given day, she would probably make a crack on how boys are so freaking gross, but since he looks like he caught the plague, she’s giving Steve a pass. 

“Robin?” Steve mumbles, blinking his eyes open. Or, at least, Robin thinks he said that; it came out more like an incoherent string of letters. 

“Hey, dingus,” she steps in his room, scrunching her nose at the stuffy smell, and sits carefully at the edge of the bed. The lump under the covers shifts and Steve’s face reappears, looking blearily at her. “Why aren't you in a hospital?”

“Don't need ‘ospital,” he rasps, coughs some more, and tries to smother himself in the blankets. “Just the flu.”

To be fair, it is flu season.

Robin squints, and because she’s like, the world’s bestest friend, she lays a hand on his very gross forehead. “You’re burning up, oh, my God, have you taken anything?”

A hand flops from underneath the blankets and gestures vaguely towards the bedside table, where a couple of cough syrup bottles are lying, nearly empty.

“Jess Christ, did you go through them already?” How's he still alive, holy fuck. “Okay, okay. It’s fine. Let’s take a break on that, though, yeah?”

Steve grumbles some nonsense. Robin is taking that as a yes. Downstairs, the phone starts to ring.

“Lemme die in peace,” he grumbles again.

“I’ll get you some Tylenol,” she replies cheerily.

The medicine cabinet, she figures, can’t be that hard to find. Everyone keeps them in their bathroom, right? 

*

She’s already got a glass of water on her hand and is about to return upstairs when the phone rings again. And rings, and rings, and rings, and it’s going to give both of them a headache, since clearly, whoever’s on the other side is not giving up anytime now.

“Harrington’s residence, you may speak,” she answers with her best fake cheerful telemarket girl voice. It’s a very good impression, Robin truly has a gift. 

“Hello?” A familiar voice says, “who’s this– wait, is that Robin? What are you doing at Steve’s– oh, my god, are you guys hooking up? Why didn’t I know this? What the hell, you guys–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Robin snaps, wishing to god she didn’t have to deal with heteronormativity today; no good deed goes unpunished, she guesses. “Cool your jets, Dustin. I’m here ‘cause Steve is like, super sick.”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Dustin sounds slightly panicked now, “is he dying? Where are his parents?”

“Nah, he’s pretty out of it and a total mess, but he’ll live. Maybe. Anyway, that’s why I’m here,” she shrugs even though Dustin can see her. He’ll know though, the kid is smart. “And his parents are… not here? I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. The place was empty when I got here–” there’s a crashing sound from upstair and Robin counts to ten, then, “YOU BETTER NOT BE TRYING TO GET UP, STEVEN– so, yeah. It’s just me trying to keep the idiot alive.”

A beat of silence. “Okay, got it. Stay strong, help is on the way.”

“Sure,” she drawls, eyebrows raising, “because that’s not ominous at– and he hung up, great.”

Maybe, that means Dustin is sending a real, responsible adult here, or like, calling Steve’s parents, or anything normal like that. Maybe the house isn’t about to be swarmed with little kids that are so going to get sick after this. Maybe Robin won’t have to look after Steve’s children and Steve. Maybe, Steve won’t be a whiny bitch about taking the pills.

Who knows, after this summer, Robin is pretty open to miracles.

*

The good news is– Steve only complained mildly before swallowing the Tylenol, and then only groaned about his imminent death a little, low enough that Robin could totally ignore him in order to snoop around his room, and then promptly passed out.

The bad news is– there are currently four children wearing drugstore face masks like that’ll solve everything here. 

“We came as soon as we heard it,” Dustin explains, voice muffled by his white mask.

“Is Steve going to die?” Max asks, and her face is twitching like she’s going to burst into tears but it’s fighting it with all her considerable early-teen-years might, and oh, shit, her brother died in the mall, didn’t he? Robin can hear the unspoken too hanging there at the end of her sentence and packing all her panic and fear.

Fuck, everyone here is way too traumatized for a tiny as fuck town in the middle of goddamn Indiana. 

“No one’s dying,” Robin assures awkwardly, letting them inside Steve’s room and watching as they all crowd around his bed. Oh, god, their parents are so gonna kill Robin if they get sick later. “Hm. Maybe don’t, you know, get too close.”

“Steve is sick, Robin,” Dustin tells her as if, somehow, she hadn’t noticed that before, and as if it explains everything. Kids are so fucking weird, man.

Whatever answer Dustin is expecting from her that had never been coming anyway is cut short by Steve’s suddenly hoarse scream. His face had been smushed against the pillow so it’s pretty muffled, but it still startles everyone, and Steve is now scrambling, twisting under the covers, kicking and shit, he’s gonna fall off the bed like this and get himself a broken nose on top of the worst case of flu Robin’s ever seen– 

“Shit,” Mike says, “he’s got the nightmares again. Nancy said he used to get them all the time last year.”

“Then wake him up, dumbass,” Robin rolls her eyes, thinking of the quick recap Steve had given her at the mall before everything went to shit. He had certainly not said anything about nightmares, but now that there’s no Russian conspiracy looming over their heads to distract her, it seems pretty obvious shit like that stays with you. Freaking evil goo monsters, man. Of course Steve has nightmares, Robin gets them sometimes and she hasn’t been here for half of the shit that he’s been through. She shakes his shoulder carefully, feeling the way he’s shivering under her hand. “Hey, Steve, yo, wake up.”

Behind her, she can feel the kids crowding to peer over her shoulder. 

And Steve wakes up with a start, jolting up in the bed and nearly throwing them all off it. His eyes are wild and wide, and while the Tylenol has got to have kicked in by now, he still looks feverish and high on cough syrup. “What,” he pants, exhales a shuddering breath and lurches to the side to throw up on the trash can. His hands, Robin notices, are shaking.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Dustin says in what he probably thinks it’s a soothing voice but Robin thinks makes him sound like he’s about to murder someone, and reaches to pat him on the back. “There’s no demodogs here or giant melted flesh monsters or demogorgons or–”

“Thank you, Dustin,” she speaks over his list while Lucas and Max help Steve lie back like little nurses, “I think he got it, yeah.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve mumbles, wounded and hoarse, and curls up, eyes darting around the room in a way that makes Robin glad she left the lights on. “Not them. Hey, Robin, ‘member when the Russians tortured us?”

She goes cold. 

That night had been fucked up and she had shoved it down where she doesn't have to think about, and even if she does try to remember, its all a little fuzzy at the edges after they got caught. The last thing she has a clear memory of before the drug left her system is yelling at Dustin and Erica to get the hell out of there and bring help. All she has next are snapshots– a soldier yelling with a gun in her face, the cold cell floor, Steve bloody and bruised to hell, a sharp needle pricking her neck– then, her conversation with Steve is back in sharp focus, the knee-buckling relief that comes after washing away the panic.

But. “Shit, yeah, dude. Why, were you–”

The sentence hangs in the air and maybe they should talk about this to get, like, closure or some shit like that, yeah, but now is probably not the best time, not in front of the kids, because Jesus, they’re just kids they shouldn’t be hearing about this.

“Thought I was back there,” Steve keeps going, apparently too sick or too high to think about how child-friendly this topic is, “the– the soldier guy, he was ripping off my fingernails, man, he almost did it back there, thought he had knocked something loose in my head.”

“Oh my god,” she hears one of the kids whispering in horror and privately agrees. She knew it had been bad, seen his state when they threw them together in the same cell, but she had known it had been this bad– they tried to rip off his fingernail, Christ.

“And then, then like, it kept going on this loop, and I thought you all were dead, and it was my fault, stupid, stupid, why did I have to go snooping and dragged everyone into this, and I thought, shit, I’m gonna die, and–”

Okay, shit, Robin needs to stop him right there because she knows a panic attack when she sees one and Steve is winding up for a big one. “Alright, hey, hey, Steve,” she says slowly, quietly, careful to leave her voice blank, “it’s fine. You’re fine, man. No one’s dead, look,” she gestures the kids and they all scramble up the bed, for once not babbling on and on, and silently decide to go for a group hug. Robin wisely stays out of it. “See, your kids are fine, you’re fine, and the Russians got fucked, okay?”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, eyes wide and round, and he looks a little overwhelmed with all those kids hugging him, and Robin thinks it’s the cutest shit ever. If she had a camera, this would have been prime blackmail material. More importantly, it seems to help ground him, bring him back to Hawkins, Indiana and not those fucked up memories. “Yeah, thanks, I– sorry.”

Shrugging, Robin offers a small smile, relieved to see he’s already drifting again. “Don’t worry about it, dingus,” she claps her hand quietly, getting the kids’ attention, “come along, kiddos, we gotta let your babysitter rest, now. And you’re all helping me make soup.”

There are groans all around, but they all trail behind her down the stairs.