#...did hand quilt the whole thing which. gonna try to not do that again

[poisonhemloc]

fully finished my first proper quilt. Calling it 'this is why we remember to slow down and take our time and measure properly' (alt 'thats the cats quilt now'

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - ch. 8

There's a lot of things that need to be talked about for Frankie and Ashling in this chapter, but we also finally get to see Frankie in full cowboy mood!

Summery: Cowboy Frankie returns to New York to work things out with his 'maybe girlfriend' Eva. But he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

Series Master List

Warnings for the whole series can be found here

Frankie woke up a bit confused as to why he was on his couch the next morning, then the previous day came back to him while his lower back protested about sleeping on the couch;  Aisling turning up, asleep now, only feet away, in his bed. He rolled over onto his side and peered over the edge of the couch to his bedroom door, it was slightly ajar. Pushing himself off the couch, he quietly made his way over to it and peered inside, finding the bed empty. He was a fairly light sleeper, Aisling must’ve been very quiet if she’d snuck out without him waking up. He turned and realized the quilt on the couch was gone and he looked out through the window, spotting Aisling on the porch swing, wrapped in the quilt, watching the morning light over the prairie. 

“Morning,” he said, opening the front door, “You like the view?” 

“Morning, Frankie,” she said, turning and giving him a bright smile, “it’s gorgeous, I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

“It’s pretty spectacular, and just wait until you see the sunset.” He thumbed towards the kitchen behind him, “I’m gonna make some coffee, how do you take it?” 

“Just milk, thanks, ‘Fish’.” 

He chuckled, “Coming right up, Ash.” 

He came back a few minutes later with two mugs and handed her one, joining her on the swing with his own. Aisling had pulled up her legs so Frankie gently rocked the swing with his bare foot on the porch. 

“This is how I imagined it,” she said, wrapping her hands around the mug, “when you showed me the photos of this place. You sitting on the swing, watching the view and rocking back and forth.” 

“It has been known to happen,” Frankie replied, pausing before he continued in a lower voice, “You know I need the silence, and this is as silent as it gets.” 

Aisling looked over at him, he was staring out at the prairie, his eyebrows pulled together as if he was working something over in his mind. Then he lifted his hand and rubbed the strong curve of his nose, and sighed. 

“Do you wanna know what happened in New York?” he asked, still looking at the prairie. 

“Yeah, I think we need to start there,” Aisling replied and he looked over at her, “I won’t walk into something with you again without understanding what happened, Frankie.”

He nodded, “I agree, you should understand. And then…” he paused, glancing down at his hands, something vulnerable shifting in his face before he looked up again, “and then, maybe…you need to decide if you want to stay or not.” 

It was Aisling’s turn to nod while Frankie seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment, taking a sip of his coffee and Aisling did the same, looking out over the prairie as he started talking. 

“I think you need to know what happened before New York though,” he began, “And I’m not making excuses for anything, just telling you how I ended up where I was.” 

“Ok.” 

He drew a deep breath and rubbed his nose again, trying to ground himself before he began.

“You know I was in the army, as a pilot. I was in special ops, which means I was in a team of five guys that went on some highly classified missions. I’ve killed people, as a soldier, and many of the things we did, I’m not proud of.”

He paused and glanced over at Aisling to see how she'd react, but she was still looking out over the prairie with the coffee mug resting on her knee. 

He took another sip of his coffee, considering how to phrase the next part before deciding to just say it, hoping she’d understand that he’d left it behind now. 

“Going back to civilian life wasn’t easy, and I didn’t handle it very well. I started using drugs to numb myself from all the shit in my head. Eventually I got addicted. To cocaine,” he looked over at her again and she was looking back at him this time. “I’ve been clean for almost two years, and I don’t do any other drugs.” 

Aisling nodded in response, “The army stuff, is that what’s in your head? That makes you crave silence?” 

“Yeah, it’s like my brain can’t sort through the distractions of a busy place and decide what’s an actual potential danger, and what’s just background noise. It forces me to be vigilant for any potential threat, check the exits, check the people around me, make sure I’ve got my friend’s backs covered all the time, like I’m on a never ending mission.” 

“Sounds exhausting,” Aisling said, “And explains why New York stressed you out so much.” 

Frankie nodded and scratched his beard, “It never fucking shuts up in that city, the only time my head was quiet while I was there was with-” 

He cut himself off and glanced over at Aisling who was still looking at him. 

“You said I was the only one who made your mind quiet.” 

Frankie nodded again, unable to keep looking at her, instead he looked down at his bare feet for a moment before he looked out at the prairie that was slowly filling with sunlight. 

“When I was with you in New York, I could focus only on you, the rest faded into the background.” 

“Is that why you kept coming back to the bar, even though you had a girlfriend?” 

Frankie winced under the directness of her question, but he nodded in response, focusing on the prairie. 

“The rest of the story,” he said, “is this; I met Eva when I was addicted, in Florida. It’s where I lived after the army. I’d made some really terrible choices, the worst one left one of my friends dead after we went on a mission we never should’ve touched. I was numbing the pain and the noise with coke every day, and she helped me get clean. She was what I needed then, I suppose, but in reality, she probably should’ve been just a friend, not my girlfriend. I wasn’t in the right place for a serious relationship. But I talked her into moving out here when I realized I needed this kind of space, this kind of life, to get my head straight again. Herb, who runs the ranch, is my NA sponsor, he got me out here.” 

Frankie paused and looked over at Aisling again, she was looking at him and when their eyes met, she smiled at him. 

“Don’t worry, you haven’t said anything to scare me off yet, just tell me what happened.” 

Frankie felt relief flood his chest, a weight lifting, and he nodded as he continued; “I don’t know if Eva hated it out here from the start, but I know she hated it pretty soon after we moved here. She hated how lonely it was, so far from any kind of city, bars, clubs, all the stuff she loved doing. So after a few months, she left me, moved to New York for a job. I went after her, tried living there for about two months, and failed, miserably. I almost started using again. So I came back here.” 

Frankie sighed, bracing himself for the most recent part of the story and Aisling noticed he was picking at his cuticles, his fingers restless. Putting down her coffee mug she took one of his large hands in her own and held it still. He gave her a weak smile and inhaled before he continued. 

“It was over then, when I came back, we thought we’d try a long distance thing but we didn’t even stay in touch, it was just over. But then she called me a few weeks later and told me she was pregnant, that it was mine, and I went back to New York.” 

Frankie looked over at Aisling who was still holding his hand, absentmindedly rubbing her thumb over his small tattoo. If the pregnancy had surprised her, she wasn’t showing it, she just kept her eyes on him as he told her the rest, nodding to keep him going.   

“That’s why I was in Brooklyn when I met you, I was waiting for her to get home from work so that we could talk about what we were going to do. I thought maybe the baby would make her want to move back to Montana and we could get a place closer to Big Sky, or even Bozeman. But that wasn’t what she wanted,” Frankie shook his head and rubbed his hand over his face, sighing deeply. “That third time I came back to the bar, when we went back to your place, she’d had an abortion without telling me about it.” 

Aisling felt her heart twist, with both anger and with relief, for a few seconds she’d thought Frankie was going to tell her Eva was still pregnant, that he’d be a dad in a few months. Anger filled her heart when she saw Frankie’s eyes shift into grief. 

“I know Eva and me having a baby was probably the worst idea in the world,” he said, his voice low as he looked down at his feet again, “I can’t live in New York and she hated living here. And I know she has every right to make the decision on her own, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head and Aisling felt him grip her hand tighter, “She didn’t even let me go to the clinic with her, she wouldn’t even let me help her or tell me what was going on. She told me it was fucking food poisoning...and then the next morning there was blood in the toilet and she told me it was over, just like that.” 

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” Aisling murmured, “that was a horrible thing to do.” 

“And then you were there, all soft and warm, and I could just lose myself in you,” Frankie said, turning his head to look at Aisling, remembering how good she’d made him feel when he needed it the most that night in Greenpoint. “You made my head go quiet at a time when it was driving me insane. And it was such a fucked up thing to do, I shouldn’t have used you like that and I felt so fucking guilty afterwards.”

“That’s why you went all weird after we had sex,” Aisling said, remembering how he’d almost shut down in her bed, “You were feeling guilty.” 

Frankie nodded, and his eyebrows were so tightly knitted together when he looked at her that she had to scoot closer to him on the porch swing and wrap her arms around his wide shoulders. He gratefully hugged her back, holding her tight as he mumbled in her ear. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve stopped myself, it wasn’t fair on you, Aisling. And then I had to leave, I couldn’t drag you into my mess, it just would’ve made it worse and I didn’t want to put that on you.” 

“But why did you go back to Eva?” Aisling asked, sitting back so that she could see Frankie properly, “You were with her when we met at Smorgasbord.” 

Frankie swallowed and gave a small shake of his head, Aisling had removed her arms from around him and he already missed her touch. But this was the hardest part to explain, he dropped his head and rubbed at his thumb. 

“It’s like I was being pulled in two directions, I knew, rationally I fucking knew, staying with her wasn’t a good choice. But the other part of me was saying it was the right thing to do, that it had been good once, and that she’d helped me through so much shit. She put up with me and helped me get clean when everyone else bailed. And when I got back to her apartment that night, she was crying, begging me to stay, saying she needed me and she only realized when she thought I’d left. So I did what I thought was the right thing, and stayed.” 

He sighed deeply, “And I know I should’ve told you, but I was just too much of a coward,” he looked up and met Aisling’s eyes, he could see some of the hurt he’d caused her as she was reminded of what he’d done, and it killed him inside. He wanted to make that go away, but he knew he could only hope she would understand on some level, and maybe forgive him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to pull you into my mess, I should’ve stopped things after we first kissed,” he shook his head again, exhaling and looking out over the prairie. 

“If you’d told me, I probably would’ve yelled at you anyway,” Aisling said and gave him a crooked smile, “but I would’ve preferred if you’d told me, instead of finding out at Smorgasbord.” 

Frankie nodded, “I know, and I have no excuse. I was a coward, I should’ve been honest with you. And I deserved everything you said, I fucked up.” 

Aisling wasn’t about to disagree on the deserving thing, he should’ve told her, but she was starting to understand what kind of demons he’d been fighting. 

“And after that, you stayed with Eva? She forgave you for having sex with me?” she asked, still sitting close to him, close enough so that she could see the way his eyes seemed to be looking at something else than the prairie. His fingers were picking at his cuticles again, and his foot had started tapping on the porch floor. 

“I stayed, but I don’t think she forgave me. She said she did, but then she’d hold it over me when she wanted me to do something. The whole thing sat between us the whole last month and it just got worse. So we had one last fight and broke up, and I left the same night.” 

“When you came to see me after closing?” Aisling asked but Frankie ignored her question, he seemed to have lost himself in the spiral of thoughts the memories brought on.  

“I always seem to fuck everything up,” he said, not answering her question, “I made so many bad choices, both back in Florida and then in New York…I messed up things for Eva, I hurt you and got you pulled into my fucking mess of a life, I shouldn’ve just stayed away from you, my shitty choices caused you pain and I know I caused Eva so much pain. I just…” he trailed off, sighing deeply as Aisling threaded her fingers through his, stopping him from ripping apart his nails. 

“You fucked up, that’s human, Frankie, but at least you’ve realized it and you’re owning it,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “I was so fucking mad at you, I’m not going to deny that. I wanted to punch you so badly.” 

“I would’ve let you, I had it coming,” Frankie said with a shrug, but Aisling shook her head and Frankie missed the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. 

“I got over my anger for you pretty fast. That thing you said, about needing silence? I had a feeling there was a lot more behind that then just ‘can’t stand the noise of the city’,” she rubbed her fingertips over his hand, circling around his bull’s eye tattoo, her touch soothing him as he looked down at the way her fingers moved over his skin, “But then I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And it’s not like you’re the first guy to ghost me, I usually forget them pretty fast.” 

Frankie raised his eyebrows in surprise as he looked up at her and Aisling couldn’t help laughing, “Please, you’re not that special, ‘Fish’. But you’re the first one who’s apologized for it and then refused to leave my head,” her eyes went soft, still holding his hand, “but I understand why you did it, and where your head was at. I just needed to hear you explain it because you felt special. To me.” 

Frankie kept looking at her, her face was serious and she meant what she said, and he believed her. 

“What made you come out here?” he asked, “After three months and no word from me?” 

“Female intuition,” she said, her mouth quirking up in a quick smile, “That, and a really, really shitty shift at the bar.” 

“Female intuition about what?” Frankie questioned, but Aisling just smiled at him.

“Give me breakfast and that tour of the ranch and I might tell you, we’ll do one fucked up story at a time. But I forgive you, Frankie. Thank you for telling me all that. I know it couldn’t have been easy.” 

He shook his head, “It’s been on my mind since last night, but I needed to tell you, both for myself and for you.” 

“How do you feel now?” 

Frankie closed his eyes and took a deep breath, listening to the inside of his mind. It was quiet, light, and he smiled. 

“I feel good,” he said, “I told you everything, the worst is over now.” 

Aisling smiled at him and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his scruffy cheek. 

“The worst is over, Frankie. Now give me breakfast.” 

Frankie watched her for a second as she got up and went into the cabin again, while he remained on the porch swing. He really felt lighter, he hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding on to that whole story, and how nervous he’d been about telling her. Now he felt like he could start over, like they could start over, with everything out in the open. His face cracked into a relieved grin and he pushed himself off the swing, following her into the cabin. 

“I can’t offer that much for breakfast,” he said, she was pouring herself a second cup of coffee from the pot when he came in, “Eggs and toast, some hot sauce, that’s about it.” 

“Sounds good, point me in the right direction and I’ll be a bit more helpful than last night,” she said, folding the throw blanket and leaning down to lay it neatly on the couch where she’d found it. When she turned around Frankie was standing at the counter with an odd expression on his face.

“You ok, Frankie?” she asked and he blinked a couple of times.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I-I’m fine,” it took him a beat too long to respond and Aisling noticed the red blush flaring up on his neck as he abruptly turned back to the counter. “Eggs, toast, I’ll get us sorted.” 

She glanced down at the t-shirt she’d slept in, one of Frankie’s, and smiled. She’d taken it from the chair in his bedroom last night, it had smelled clean, and she’d been too tired to ask about it. The sight of her in his t-shirt seemed to have stirred something in him, and she grinned behind his back. 

“If you’re sure, I’ll just go get changed. But I’ll sort the dishes,” she said, pushing back her giggles and leaving him nodding at the counter. 

Frankie was gripping the edge of it, trying to contain the hard on that had sprung into life when he’d turned and seen Aisling, the hem of his old gym shirt rising up over her soft legs. It had been an effort to contain the groan that threatened to escape his throat, he remembered all too well what those legs felt like. And now they were here, disappearing underneath his fucking t-shirt. 

“C’mon, pendejo, I know it’s been a while but get a fucking grip,” he muttered to himself as Aisling disappeared. Willing his body to behave and going through the pre-flight checklist for his favorite helicopter model, he grabbed the eggs from the fridge, forcing his hard on to calm down. 

Aisling returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, back in her own clothes to his relief, and laid the table. 

“So what can I expect to see on this ranch tour?” she asked as they sat down with plates of eggs and toast. 

“Herb staring, probably,” Frankie chuckled, “I think he’s been expecting me to become a monk since I got back from New York. And horses, lots of horses. Do you know how to ride?”

“Yeah, sure, we had a pony club between the bodega and Johnson’s Laundromat. Me and my trusty steed Silver would ride out every Saturday, taking in the views over Manhattan from the WNYC Transmitter Park.” She made a sweeping gesture as if she was showing off her expansive land and Frankie rolled his eyes at her sass. 

“Smartass,” he growled as she winked at him, “Ok, so then there might be some riding lessons too.” 

“Really?” Aisling dropped her smirk as her eyes widened, “You can teach me?” 

“Yeah, of course, we’ve got two really calm horses for our inexperienced riders, I’ll let you ride one of them,” Frankie pushed back his chair and picked up the plates as Aisling chewed her lip nervously. 

“On my own?” 

“No, well, not at first anyway,” Frankie reassured her, “I’ll be leading her while you get used to it and figure it out. I won’t let you fall, don’t worry.” 

“Ok…slightly more nervous about the tour now, but also excited, thanks, Frankie,” she said, taking the dishcloth from his hand and shooing him away with her other hand, “Get dressed, I’ll sort this.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie smiled and left her to deal with the dishes. 

It was further down to the ranch than Aisling had first thought. Frankie had told her the land it sat on was bigger than all of Greenpoint, and she easily believed him as she saw the prairie spread out around them. He pointed out some of his favorite spots as the truck rumbled down the dirt road, passing in and out of dips in the nearly treeless land. Not until they came closer to the foothills did small thickets of trees appear, framing the ranch that nestled in a small valley next to a river coming down from the Rockies.  

Frankie parked the truck next to an almost identical one by the main building and Aisling stepped down. They were greeted by two dogs running at full tilt across the yard, their tails wagging madly as they started twirling around Frankie, only stopping to sniff Aisling for a second, before going back to jumping around his legs. 

“Alright, alright, calm down you crazy mutts,” Frankie laughed, “I was here yesterday.” 

He managed to grab the collar of the black and white one, giving it an affectionate scratch, “This is Whiskey, he’s the old man even though you’d never believe it. That over energetic golden,” he pointed to the golden retriever who was now spinning in circles around Aisling’s legs, clearly very excited about a new person, “is Benny. Named him after an old friend of mine, they have the same energy.” 

Benny the golden did a few more laps and accepted a scratchie from Aisling before he and Whiskey took off, someone calling for them in the distance. 

“Cute dogs,” Aisling laughed, trying to wipe Benny’s drool off her hands until Frankie handed her rag from the back of the truck. 

“Cute and bat shit crazy, but great company on the trails. The guests love them and spoil them rotten.” He stuffed the rag into his back pocket and grabbed a few apples from a crate in the back before holding out his hand for her, “C’mon, let me introduce you to Herb before he yells at me too.” 

Aisling took his hand, it felt so natural, and it wrapped around hers like it was meant to always be there. She wondered if Frankie had even reflected over the gesture, he seemed so at ease here, and he made her feel like she belonged here with him too. With a smile he tugged her along, leading her across the yard and towards what looked like a reception building. 

“This is Herb’s office but he lives upstairs in the main building behind us, and the ground floor is for the guests who don’t stay in the cabins. During the busiest season the place is packed with guests and we hire some of the locals to help us out. It’s quiet now in the off-season though.” 

Herb turned out to be an older version of Frankie, gray curls sprouting around his Stetson, large hands, warm smile and the same quiet demeanor. Aisling could see why the older man would’ve been able to connect with Frankie and help him towards sobriety. 

Frankie introduced her just as ‘Aisling’ and she didn’t miss the quirk of an eyebrow in Frankie’s direction just before Herb shook her hand. Clearly Herb had been told about what happened in New York. After some small talk about the ranch, Frankie told Herb he was showing Aisling the stables, and Herb invited them over for dinner later in the week. 

“Miranda, my partner, will be very happy to have someone else to talk to for a change,” he said with another warm smile before waving them off towards the stables. 

“Nice guy,” Aisling said as Frankie held open the door to the large barn, the smell of hay and horses hitting her nose. 

“He’s been a life saver,” Frankie said, “he knows what to say to get me away from the itch of using, he’s been there himself and he always cuts through all the bullshit. It was what I needed.” 

“I guessed, from the way you talk about it, you still feel that itch?” Aisling asked, pausing as Frankie closed the door behind them. 

“Not all the time, not anymore, but yeah, sometimes. I think I’ll always feel it on some level,” he’d stopped in front of her, his eyes suddenly worried. “Does it bother you? That I was addicted?” 

Aisling shrugged and something flashed over her face, “Before yeah, maybe I would’ve had my doubts,” Frankie saw her frown at a memory as she looked up at him, “I have some history with addicts and I know how it fucks up lives. An ex, years ago, he promised he was clean and then he faked a break in to our apartment. I believed we really had been robbed until the police caught him trying to sell my phone on a street corner, high out of his fucking mind. And there was other shit too, the drugs always took precedent in his life. It took me a while to get away from him and I’ve been kinda weary since. So maybe, if you’d told me before, I would’ve cut my losses.” 

“I’m sorry,” Frankie said, “that probably makes you feel differently about me-” 

“I know your story now, Frankie, and it’s different,” she cut him off, “I’ve also seen how easily it happens and how hard it is to get out of,” she took his hand again, smoothing out his twitching fingers, he hadn’t even realized he was doing it again, “And I understand why you got addicted. What you did in the army, it must be difficult to just leave that behind when you were suddenly back to civilian life.” 

“It was, and I’ve seen people deal with it in different ways, I think mine was one of the worst ways though,” he rubbed his thumb over the top of her hand, looking down at their fingers intertwining. 

“At least you’re still here, Frankie,” Aisling said, dipping her head so that she could catch his eyes under the peak of his cap, “I’m glad you’re still here. And the addiction doesn’t make me feel differently about you.”

A soft neighing from further inside interrupted their conversation, a buckskin colored head sticking out from one of the stalls with a curious look at the two of them. Further down the stable other horses poked their heads out, looking at the visitors. 

Frankie glanced over at the buckskin horse who was giving him an almost exhortative look, as if to tell him to get a move on. 

“Thanks, Ash,” he said, turning back to her and she saw his worried look soften, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, “Now come meet the locals.”  

She was still holding on to his hand and now he wrapped his fingers around it and led her towards the horse who gave another impatient whicker. When they got close to the stall, it dipped its head and nudged Frankie’s free hand, looking for treats. 

“This is Dolly, she’s my girl,” Frankie said, smiling as the horse nipped at his pockets, “always wanting treats, I may have spoiled her a little bit.” 

She’d found the apples he’d stuffed in his pockets and was trying to get at it and Frankie pulled one out and handed it to Aisling. 

“Have you ever fed a horse before?” 

“Never been this close to a horse before,” she admitted, “I’ve only ever seen the ones that pull the carriages around Central Park.” 

“Ok, so hold your hand out flat, like this,” Frankie said and flattened her palm, placing the apple on top, “she won’t bite, but she will slobber a bit on you.” 

“That’s alright, it’s already covered in dog drool,” Aisling laughed. 

Frankie guided her hand within reach of Dolly’s searching muzzle and Aisling felt the soft lips brush over her palm as she gently took the apple. It crunched in the horse's mouth and frothy, apple scented, drool dripped onto her hand. 

“At the risk of sounding like a squeamish city girl, but ‘ewww’,” Aisling giggled, holding her hand as far away from herself as possible as Frankie laughed. He pulled the rag from his back pocket and handed it over. 

“We have washing facilities in the stable, luckily, but let's meet the rest of the crew, they’ll expect apples too.” 

Giving Dolly a scratch on her golden head, adding promises of coming back soon, Frankie led Aisling down to the next stall where a chestnut horse was waiting for them. 

“This is Clover, she’s going to teach you how to ride,” Frankie said and reached up, scratching the red horse behind one of her ears, making her whicker softly and bump up against his arm. 

“She’s pretty big…” Aisling said, looking at the rest of the horse’s body and Frankie heard the nerves in her voice. 

“Clover is our grand ol’ dame, she will stand stock still until you’re comfortable on her back, and she’ll help you stay on, she has the smoothest gait.” 

He gave her hand a small squeeze, “And you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you want to try, you’ll never find a teacher as good as her.” 

Aisling nodded, holding out her hand for Clover to smell. The large horse gently nudged her hand and she marveled at how soft the touch was. 

“Give her an apple and some scratchies, you’ll see what a sweetheart she is,” Frankie said, handing Aisling another apple from his pocket. Clover didn’t move, even as her nostrils flared when she smelled the apple. It was as if she could sense Aisling’s nerves and was staying extra calm. Aisling held her palm flat and offered the apple to Clover who carefully took it between her lips, pulling back a little before she crunched down on it. Unlike Dolly, she didn’t drool at all, the very picture of a refined lady, gently munching on her treat. 

“Reach up and rub her forehead, scratch hair between her ears, that’s her favorite spot for scratchies,” Frankie said, patting Clover’s neck affectionately. Aisling did as he said and ran her fingers through the coarse hair, scratching at the roots. Clover whickered softly and dropped her head, her big eyes half closed as she enjoyed the sensation. 

“She likes it,” Aisling smiled, as Clover moved her head closer so that Aisling could reach further up between her ears. 

“Yeah, she’s enjoying herself for sure,” Frankie replied, giving Clover a pat on the neck.  

He loved seeing Aisling in the stable, on the ranch, and he felt his need to make her visit as unforgettable as possible so that she’d come back. 

To stay for good. 

The thought flashed across his mind as he watched Aisling chat to Clover, telling her what a nice lady she was. It sent a jolt through him, and he suddenly felt panic at the idea of her leaving. They barely knew each other, it was crazy to think of her staying for good so soon. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted her to stay, watching her leave would be the hardest thing he’d ever done, he could already feel the desperation in his bones. He thought he’d lost her, only for her to turn up out of the blue, and he knew he’d been delusional when he thought he could put her in his past. Now that she was here, without the complication of Eva, he desperately wanted her to stay. He needed her. 

“Frankie?” 

“Huh?” 

“I said, I think she wants another apple,” Aisling said, looking at him while Clover nudged his pocket, “You kinda zoned out there for a second.” 

“Yeah, sorry, I was miles away,” he said, pulling out a second apple and feeding it to the horse. 

“You ok?” she asked, her hand on his arm, warm through the flannel shirt. 

“Yeah, I was just thinking about some things,” he replied, smiling at her and coming back to the moment,  “Let’s get a saddle on her and we’ll have your first riding lesson, if you’re up for it?” 

Aisling stroked Clover’s soft nose and smiled up at the big, gentle horse, “Yeah, I’m up for it. You’re right about Clover, she’s going to take care of me.” 

Leaving Clover behind, Frankie showed Aisling the tack room, and they picked up a saddle and a bridle. He walked her through how to saddle Clover and then led her out into the paddock behind the stable. There was a step ladder set up at one end and Frankie led Clover to it while Aisling followed. 

“So, we’ll use the step ladder for now, it’s easier until you’re used to the saddle,” he said, taking Aisling’s hand as she stood next to Clover. “Stand on the top step, gather the reins in one hand and hold on to the pommel with the other, put your front leg in the stirrup and swing your back leg over her rump and sit down in the saddle.” 

Aisling took a deep breath and climbed to the top of the short ladder, giving Frankie a nervous look as he stood next to Clover, smiling up at her. 

“If you feel unsteady, just squeeze your legs around her middle and pull yourself straight with the pommel,” he said, stroking the horse's neck. Clover whickered softly but didn’t move a muscle as Aisling carefully put her leg over the saddle and sank down. 

“Oh shit…this is high up,” she muttered, her hands holding the pommel in a death grip. 

“Try to relax and sit really heavy in the saddle, like, sink down onto your butt properly and grip her sides with your legs.” Frankie gently put his hand on Aisling’s calf and pushed it towards Clover’s flank. 

Aisling nodded nervously and sank down a bit further into the saddle and Frankie felt her leg flex under his hand. 

“You’re doing great, and you haven’t fallen off yet,” he grinned up at her and she quickly stuck his tongue out at him. 

“You promised I wouldn’t fall,” she reminded him and he chuckled. 

“You won’t, you’re doing great. Just hold on to the pommel, keep your legs tight around her and we’ll go for a little walk.” 

“Ok,” she nodded, adjusting her grip on the saddle and Frankie saw her clench her jaw, squaring up. 

“Relax, hermosa,” he gently reminded her, stroking her leg, “breathe.” 

Aisling nodded, but his warm hand sent sparks through her bloodstream and she felt herself clench for other reasons. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she forced herself to relax, but still hold on with her legs around Clover’s round middle. 

“Are you ready?” Frankie asked her, squeezing her leg again before he moved to hold Clover’s reins. Aisling nodded and Frankie clicked his tongue, making Clover move forwards. The big horse swayed gently under her and Aisling gasped, gripping the pommel even tighter, as she tried to sit heavy in the saddle. Frankie watched her over his shoulder as he led Clover in a big, slow, circle around the paddock. The horse walked carefully, treading gently as if she was balancing Aisling on her back as much as Aisling was trying to balance herself. 

After a full circle, Frankie saw Aisling’s white knuckle grip on the pommel loosen a bit, and she lifted her head, daring to look at the surroundings. 

“You’re doing great,” he told her, and she smiled back at him. He kept leading Clover at a slow, steady walk and Aisling felt herself relax properly. The horse was swaying under her in a smooth motion, and it got easier to move her hips in the rhythm of the gait, following along with the motions. She let herself look around the ranch, the wellkept buildings, a few groves of trees and then the mountains climbing up behind the main house. As they circled the paddock, she saw the prairie in the other direction, open and endless, just a few rolling hills in the distance. Somewhere above them a bird screeched and she saw Frankie look up. 

“An eagle,” he said, pointing to a tiny black speck high up in the sky, “a bald one, I think. They’re pretty common here.” 

“Wow, really? I don’t think I’ve ever seen an eagle,” Aisling replied, squinting up at the bright blue sky, the tiny bird circling high above them. She felt her balance shift and she quickly looked back down, gripping onto the pommel. Frankie was still looking at the bird, his head tilted back as he led Clover, and she took a moment to watch him. He looked so comfortable, the reins loosely in one hand, the other shielding his eyes under the peak of his cap and he was matching Clover’s slow pace. It was hard equating the man she saw here with the story he’d told her about his background, a soldier who’d killed enemies, his addiction and how he’d ended up here. It was even hard to see the man she’d met in Brooklyn in him. He’d been so watchful and troubled there, here, he was clearly calm and comfortable. If she didn’t know better, nothing could’ve convinced her that he wasn’t born and raised on this ranch, always a cowboy. 

“You really look like you belong here, Frankie,” she said, “I can see why it means so much for you to be in Montana.” 

Frankie looked over her shoulder at her and gave her a crooked smile. 

“I feel at home here, and it means a lot to hear you say it,” he turned his head and looked forward again, “Eva never understood it or saw it, I think that was a big part of our problems.” 

“Do you think you’d still be together if she’d stayed in Montana?”

From behind she saw Frankie shake his head, “No, I don’t think so. We should’ve been just friends from the start. And even though it was good in the beginning, and I think we were happy, at least I was, it wasn’t right in the long run.” 

Aislin chewed on her lip while Clover continued to walk slowly around the paddock, not asking anything more and Frankie noticed, glancing back at her over his shoulder. When he caught sight of her face he turned and started walking backwards. 

“Whatever it is, you can ask me,” he said, “You’ve earned the right to any answer you want from me.” 

Aisling sucked in her lips for a second, meeting his open gaze, before she sighed. 

“I wonder about us… I wouldn’t have come all the way out here if I didn’t feel something special about you and…” Aisling trailed off and Frankie stopped, making Clover come to a halt as he stepped closer to Aisling’s leg, putting his hand on it. 

“You’re special to me too, Ash,” he said, “I thought I’d blown it, and I’m over the fucking moon that you’re here.” 

“But are you ready for a relationship? You’ve been through some heavy shit, I don’t want to be a distraction for the healing you need to do.” 

Frankie let go of the reins and put his hands up towards Aisling, “Take your feet out of the stirrups and swing your leg over her back, I’ve got you.”  

He motioned for her to trust him and she did as he said, clumsily sliding off Clover’s back into his hands on her waist. Frankie turned her around as she got her feet on the ground and didn’t let go, his large palms warm on her sides as he held her close. 

“I’m going to be healing for the rest of my life, I’ll always be dealing with the shit in my head,” he said, his voice low as he moved his hands up to cup her cheeks. “But I know it’ll be easier to handle if you’re my distraction, if you want to be with me too.” 

Aisling looked up at those warm, brown eyes, his eyebrows pulled up in his worried little frown under the cap. He was waiting for her answer while his thumbs slid across her cheeks, soft and gentle. 

“I really want to be with you, Frankie,” she answered, “But only if you think you’re ready for another relationship.” 

“With you? Absolutely,” he said, without hesitation, “I thought I’d lost you, and I was prepared to never find someone like you again because no one has made me feel as calm as you do, and you don’t even try. Just being with you does something to my brain. And now that I have a second chance at that? No way am I letting you walk away without telling you exactly how much I need you, how much you mean to me.” 

He leaned his head forward, the bill of his cap pushing up so that he could rest his forehead against hers, “I’m ready, I want this, with you, Ash.” 

“I want this too, Frankie,” she whispered, biting back the tears that threatened to push up as he made her feel like the center of his universe, only him and her, standing close together in the warm paddock. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and soft as his eyes drifted down to her lips, and she gave him a small nod, closing the last short distance between them. 

Feeling his lips on hers again was even better that she remembered. Without hurry he gently kissed her, cradling her face in his palms, the cool tip of his nose brushing against her skin. As his plush bottom lip slipped between hers, he opened his mouth, and his familiar taste flooded her brain. It had been four months since the night they spent together, but it was as if no time had passed at all. His touch, his smell, his taste, it was all so familiar to her as she wrapped her arms around his middle and pulled him closer. 

Minutes passed, and Clover waited patiently next to them, shifting her weight as Frankie and Aisling made up for lost time. Eventually she turned her big head and looked back at the two humans wrapped around each other, and gently nudged Frankie’s hip. With a low chuckle, Frankie reluctantly pulled himself away from Aisling’s lips and looked at Clover. 

“Are we boring you, ma’am?” 

The horse neighed softly and nudged him again and Aisling smiled, resting her head against Frankie’s chest as she watched him scratch Clover. His other arm was wrapped around her shoulders and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. 

“One lap around the paddock on your own, and then we go back to the cabin,” he said and she looked up at him. 

“On my own?” 

“You’re ready for it, Clover will take care of you,” he smiled, seeing her frown, “C’mon, I’ll teach you how to get up without the step ladder too.” 

“If I fall, I’m blaming you, and not Clover,” Aisling threatened him and he chuckled. 

“I’ll accept that, now turn around.” 

Aisling quirked her eyebrow at him, “What do you have in mind?” 

Frankie’s face split in a grin as he caught the double meaning of what he’d just said, “Many things, but not right now, hermosa, just turn around.” 

The wink he gave her made heat rise in her cheeks and he leaned in and gave her another kiss, letting it linger as his tongue nudged her lips apart again. With soft hands on her waist, he turned her around and placed another kiss on the side of her neck. 

“Lift this leg,” he murmured, tapping the outside of her right thigh, “and put it in the stirrup.” 

He straightened up and she did as he said while he moved her hands to take hold of the saddle. 

“Now, pull yourself up until you can swing your left leg over her back and sit back up in the saddle, I’ll help you.” 

Her legs felt a bit jelly-like, the mark of his lips on her neck burning hot through her system, and she took a deep breath to stabilize, holding onto the saddle. 

“One, two, three and up,” Frankie counted and she pulled herself up, his hands gripping her waist and giving her a boost. 

Settling in the saddle was a little bit easier this time and Aisling tightened her legs around Clover’s middle, finding her balance. Frankie watched from the ground and then reached up and adjusted her hold on the reins. 

“Hold them like this in your left hand, and you guide her by moving the reins and your hips, she’ll feel it,” he gave her hand a squeeze, “You ready?” 

“Yeah, I guess, now or never?” Aisling gave him a nervous laugh and he smiled up at her. 

“You’ll do great, you’re already sitting really well in the saddle. Just roll your hips forward and click your tongue, she’ll start walking.” 

Aisling gave an experimental click of her tongue and Clover’s ears peaked up, moving back and forth as she started walking. Frankie backed away to the center of the paddock, watching Clover slowly walk as Aisling tentatively raised her hand and moved the reins. 

“Breathe, hermosa,” he chuckled, “Relax, just like before, she’s got you.” 

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” Aisling giggled, sinking down deeper in the saddle as Clover moved into a steady walk, making Aisling’s hips sway with the motion. 

“When you get to the gate, put a bit of pressure on the left side of her neck with the reins and let her know you want to turn to the center of the paddock,” Frankie said, “and increase the pressure of your left leg too.” 

“Ok,” Aisling replied and Frankie smiled as he saw her mentally preparing as they neared the gate. Clover was a smart horse and as soon as Aisling shifted in the saddle she knew what was expected of her and turned left. 

“Oh…” Aisling huffed out, surprised, “It worked!”

“Of course it worked, you’re a natural at this,” Frankie smiled, “Try it again, turn her in another direction.” 

Aisling guided Clover to the right, back towards the fence and then again towards the gate, her grin widening each time the big horse understood her commands. 

“I can’t believe I’m actually riding!” she exclaimed, giggling as Clover turned again, “You’re such a good teacher!”

“Thanks,” Frankie grinned and Aisling smirked, winking at him. 

“I was talking to Clover, actually.” 

“Oh, oh! I see how it is,” Frankie laughed, “Well, then cowgirl, why don’t you just go ahead and ride on down towards the stable and let Clover show you how to clean her up once you’ve climbed down from up there?” 

Aisling stuck her tongue out at him as Clover whickered, as if she’d understood the joke and was laughing along with them. Frankie came up alongside them and patted Clover on the neck, smiling up at Aisling. 

“I’ll get the gate behind you, just ride to the stable, and I’ll help you down.” 

“Ok,” she replied and moved the reins again, and Clover adjusted her direction. 

Frankie waited until they were clear of the gate, then he pulled it close and latched it. 

“Frankie!” Aisling called from behind him and he turned around, hurrying to catch up, “How do I stop her? Where’s the brake?” 

He chuckled, “She’ll stop when she gets to the stable, don’t worry. But to halt a horse, you pull back gently on the reins and say ‘Whoa….’.” 

Clover stopped as they reached the space in front of the stable, turning her head and looking up at Aisling as if to say ‘Here we are, all done.’. Aising patted her neck, and scratched the mane. 

“Thank you for not letting me fall, Clover,” she said and the horse whickered and boobed her head up and down a few times as Frankie caught up to them. 

“Need a hand down, or do you want to try by yourself?” he asked, coming up to Clover’s side. 

“I’ll try, but can you stand there in case I slip?” 

“Sure, I’m on stand-by,” he replied, smiling up at her and Aisling felt like she couldn’t get off Clover fast enough so that she could get close to him again. Pulling her feet out of the stirrups she awkwardly swung herself out of the saddle and slid down Clover’s side. Frankie’s hands found her waist and he held her steady as she turned to him. 

“You’re a natural,” he smiled, the dimple deep in his cheek, as he pulled her closer. 

“Not my first time as a cowgirl,” she winked at him and Frankie raised his eyebrows, his grin widening. 

“Really? What other things have you been riding, cowgirl?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teased and he chuckled, bending his head to hers, the bill of his cap knocking against her head. 

“As I remember, you did an excellent job riding me last time,” he said, his voice amused and promising, rumbling in his chest as he gave her a smirk. Aisling wrapped her fingers around his curls and pulled him closer, smiling up at him as he glanced between her eyes and mouth, the pink tip of his tongue coming out to wet his lips. 

“Are you offering more lessons?” 

“Hermosa, you don’t need ‘em, you’re fucking perfect, all I’ve been thinking about since that night.” His eyes had gone dark and lust blown and Aisling could feel the growing hard length of him firm against her hip. She knew her eyes were just as needy as his and it was a great effort to let go of his soft curls and nod her head at Clover behind her. 

“Wanna show me how to clean her up and then take us back to the cabin?” 

Frankie pressed his lips against hers, a quick, firm kiss, promising more, and then nodded. 

“Yeah, let’s get this lady a rub down and then we’ll head back.” 

He grabbed Clover’s reins and handed them to Aisling, “You lead her, I’ll talk you through what needs to be done.” 

With Frankie guiding her, Aisling got the tack off Clover and rubbed her down, cleaning her hooves, and led her back to her stall. The grand old lady patiently waited while Aisling fiddled with the straps and struggled to pick up the large hooves, scraping them clean from dirt and any rocks. 

Frankie watched her from the sidelines, smiling as Aisling chatted to Clover, and Clover whickered back, fondly nipping at Aisling’s arm as she passed around her head. Clover’s calm demeanor had made Aisling go from nervous and jumpy around the big horse, to calm and comfortable, moving around her as if she’d tended to horses her whole life. Frankie had seen it many times before, all the inexperienced guests who came to the ranch were won over by Clover’s ‘teachings’.” 

“We’ll go out on the trail tomorrow, take Dolly and Clover up to the creek and go for a swim,” he said as Aisling slid the bolt closed on Clover’s stall and he came up behind her, putting his hand into hers. “Would you like that?” 

“You think I’m ready for that?” Aisling asked, feeding Clover the last apple from Frankie’s pocket and rubbing her nose. 

“Yeah, absolutely, we’ll go slow, and Clover will take care of you, just like she did today.” 

“Ok, yeah, I’d like that, it sounds really nice,” Aisling replied and Frankie smiled, rubbing Clover’s head a final time before they started walking back towards the exit of the stable. 

“You’re lucky, I never take guests to this creek, it’s my special place.” 

“Am I getting preferential treatment?” 

Frankie slid his arm around her waist as they walked across the yard, “Absolutely, I want you to have the best possible experience here so that you want to come back, Clover was the first trick, the creek is the second one, I think you’ll love it.” 

“Hmm….” Aisling said, wrinkling her brow and Frankie glanced over at her. 

“What?” he asked and Aisling gave an embarrassed shrug. 

“When I left New York, I didn’t actually think any further than getting to Montana, I don’t even have the money for a return ticket….” she confessed, “I was thinking I could find a job in a bar in Big Sky or something.” 

Frankie’s heart soared, and Aisling saw the grin that split his face, “You were gonna stay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’d like to, if you want me to? And I don’t mean that I’m gonna move in with you just out of the blue, but maybe I could find something in Big Sky, a small place, a job. And then we’d be closer together than two thousand miles.” 

“I’d love that,” Frankie said, squeezing her side, “I’d fucking love that, please stay, Ash. And you can stay with me for as long as you want, we can figure everything else out later.”

“You really want me to stay? It’s not weird as fuck that I just turn up and move in next door?” Aisling was smiling at him, his bright grin was all the answer she needed but she wanted to hear him say it too, to confirm that it was really real, squash that last bit of nagging insecurity. 

“Yes, I really want you to stay, the thought of you leaving and going back to New York makes me miserable. Having you here? I’m the happiest man in the world.” He pulled open the door of the truck and held out his hand for her to climb in and she settled in the seat before bending down to press a quick kiss to his smiling lips. 

“Thank you, for making this so easy, Frankie.” Happiness was settling in her stomach like a little warm ball, the anxiety finally disappearing as he closed the door and jogged around the truck. He slid into his seat and started up the truck, his hand finding hers as soon as he’d put them on the road back to the cabin. 

The ride back was mostly silent, Aisling was looking at the landscape in the afternoon sun with new eyes, looking at it as a place that might be home, memorizing landmarks, a warped tree, the curve of the road and how it dipped just before it started climbing up towards Frankie’s cabin. The silence was peaceful, there was no need to fill it with anything, it just wrapped around them comfortably like the soft breeze through the open windows. Frankie’s hand was warm around hers, she could see how he glanced at her from time to time, one hand on the steering wheel, the other caressing her skin. 

“I feel so good about this,” he said as the truck pulled up in front of the cabin, turning to look at Aisling with a smile as he turned the engine off, “Is this even real?” 

Aisling chuckled, “I spent two horrible days on a bus and then you took me stargazing on the prairie, let me crash in your bed in the cutest cowboy cabin I’ve ever seen, and I’ve just spent the afternoon learning how to ride. I’m not wholly convinced I’m not still just daydreaming in Greenpoint.” 

Frankie tightened his grip on her hand and gently tugged her towards him across the bench seat.

“Come here,” he smiled, pulling her onto his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was a tight fit with the steering wheel, but his warm body was pressed up against hers, and the smile he gave her made up for the gearshift jabbing into her thigh. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, Ash,” he said, “What did I do to deserve you?” 

“Buy very expensive beer,” she said with a cheeky grin that he mirrored, his hand cupping her cheek and pulling her down to his lips. 

“Pay me back with kisses then,” he chuckled, brushing his mustache over her lips as he felt her breath against his mouth. 

“You’re a cheap date, Fish,” she smiled and he caught her bottom lip between his, pulling her closer as she hummed into the kiss.

Chapter 9

Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @amyispxnk @thewiigers  @lady-bess @missladym1981 @peppermintfury @typewriter83 @anoverwhelmingdin @vabeachazn

[riisume]

Not So Tough (Original Characters)

Summary: Elliot McCarthy and Nox LeBlanc don't get along and were put on cleaning duty together and things take a turn.

A/N: I'm trying to draw less because my drive for it is low. But I have given myself permission to write til my heart's content as a creative outlet! So I decided to write a tk story with my ocs Elliot and Nox. I started it several months ago and finished it up today... '-' Decided to post it cuz I feel like this is the best thing I've written ever.

This is a tickle fic! If this isn’t your cup of tea, turn back now. :^) There is also swearing if you don't like that? Idk!

Word count: 2139

Elliot disliked a lot of things.The list of things he disliked had exponentially increased during the time he was spending with The Resistance; The uncomfortable, pitiful excuse for furnishing in their underground quarters, the damp and musty smell that wafted through the halls, the people. The list went on. Charlie had promised that her group would be willing to help “he and his sibling return to their appropriate continuity”, but there was a whole lot of that not happening. Elliot was growing impatient. Especially because instead of being provided a way back home, the two would be put on duty for trivial tasks, which he hated the most.

One of today’s trivial tasks involved helping one of Elliot’s least favourite people in The Resistance tidy some of the rooms; Nox Leblanc. She was bossy, dramatic, and arrogant. A conglomerate of things that the young man found insufferable in a person. He hated working with her. Nox would always act like she was above him and scrutinize every little thing he messed up on or fumbled with and today was no exception.

Elliot was folding blankets while Nox was sweeping the wooden floor that was riddled with dust bunnies. Elliot wasn’t the best at folding blankets, not that he’d admit as much. At home, he’d resort to laying his blanket out over his mattress to avoid the having a quilt pathetically rolled up at the end of his bed. It wouldn’t be long before Nox would take notice of the clumsily folded up covers.

Feeling eyes boring into the back of his head, the blond sighed, already aggravated. Peering over his shoulder, he spotted the brunette woman with that same scrutinizing look, glaring at him as her green eyes flitted from him to the messy quilts. He couldn’t help but speak up.

“Look, if you’re gonna chew me out about how I should be doing something better or about how I’m fucking shit up, just do it already.” Elliot huffed. Nox’s eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed. Gripping the broom in her dainty hands, she stepped up to Elliot, almost challengingly.

“Well, since you asked, I should start by telling you you’re doin’ a piss poor job of folding the blankets.” She started, her tone as hoity toity as usual. “Honestly, Mommy and Daddy did a shit job teaching you such a basic skill.” A look of disdain crossed Elliot’s features. His parents were a touchy subject for him and June by extension. A quip burned on the tip of his tongue. It was a burning that he couldn’t ignore. Throwing down the blanket he was attempting to fold, he glowered at Nox, his hazel eyes meeting hers with an equally challenging look. When she didn’t so much as flinch at his glare, Elliot felt his resolve buckle.

“A-and Mommy and Daddy did just as much of a shit job of teaching you basic manners, huh?” Elliot’s voice shook, his stutter betraying him once again. He prayed. Begged to whatever cosmic or heavenly deity of this world that was listening to not let Nox catch that stammer… The corners of her lips quirked into a smug, amused smile. The gods weren’t listening… The woman couldn’t help but laugh into the back of her hand and the young man felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Oh, Elliot, sweetie. We all already know you’re not as tough as you make yourself out to be.” Nox idly toyed with her hair. He wasn’t entirely sure, but Elliot swore the cocky smirk plastered on her features widened once she noted his visible discomfort. Begrudgingly, the thin blond adjusted the beanie hat on his head before going to pick up the crumpled quilt he threw down.

“Whatever. I don’t even know what you’re talking about...” Muttering and turning his back on the other, Elliot shook off the clumps of dust that wasted no time clinging to the thick sheet during it’s time on the floor.

The taller woman seemed pleased that the bratty boy backed down without much of an issue. She had deduced a while ago that he wasn’t as confident as he seemed after observing him some, pushing buttons here and there, and challenging him at times. It was types like these that were usually trying to compensate for an insecurity or put up a defensive wall. After all, Nox would know how those types worked all too well from personal experience. Though, unlike Elliot, she had perfected her confidence. Solidified her defenses. Not much could penetrate them, much less someone with a weak will like her current cleaning partner.

Nox decided to keep pushing. She was having fun with him.

“You don’t?” The woman canted her head in mock confusion as she crept towards Elliot, dropping the broom she was holding to the floor. “Hm… That’s funny. I recall hearing that The Resistance’s favourite otherworldly, tough brat could be brought to his knees by the lightest of touches…” At that, she reached out, briskly walking her thin fingers along Elliot’s spine.

The reaction she received was far more entertaining than she ever could’ve hoped for; Elliot practically leapt out of his skin, a high-pitched shriek resonated from him that echoed down the halls of the base. He arched away so sharply that  Nox was almost convinced that his thin frame would’ve snapped in half, before he waved his arms behind him in a frantic attempt to shoo the woman away. That poor blanket was on the floor again.

“Agh! D-d-don’t do that!!” Elliot whipped around, immediately shielding himself with his arms. A look of amusement and intrigue made itself apparent on the green-eyed girl’s features as she stroked her chin.

“Aaaah, so the legends were true.” A mischievous glint in Nox’s eyes made a chill run up Elliot’s spine. “The younger McCarthy is suuuper ticklish..!”

Elliot hated that word; ‘Ticklish’ and all of it’s other iterations. It always embarrassed him because he knew he was hellishly so… Not that he’d ever admit it of course. He hated that he couldn’t stop his face from turning a deep shade of red whenever someone asked him if he was ticklish. He hated the way he would be helpless when they inevitably tested the waters. He especially hated the way people would tease him about the noises he’d make while he was trying to fight the urge to succumb to the mirth.

Elliot knew that people enjoyed poking fun at him because of the way he overreacted. He had been told so many times, but it was unavoidable when he got flustered. It was something so engrained in him that he couldn’t fight it no matter how hard he tried.

“Sh-shut the fuck up! You just… You just caught me by surprise, okay!?” Elliot huffed indignantly.

“I did? Oh, so you totally won’t react if I just… Tickled you again?” Nox flexed and wiggled her fingers as she began to close in on Elliot. He felt his heart begin to race as he backed away. He didn’t want to be subjected to this humiliation! Should he run? Where would he even go? Someone was bound to ask why he was running down the halls in a panic, then what? Elliot couldn’t just go whining about how Nox was threatening to tickle him, that would be mortifying! He’d rather die! Maybe a retaliation was in order? … No. Elliot was terrified of tickling others, even in self-defense. He knew that would just invoke their wrath further and he’d suffer tenfold.

The most the distressed blond could think to do was attempt and reason with his assailant… Not that he thought she would listen, but he was desperate.

“W-wait, c’mon-! We’re… We’re supposed to clean up and- MNGH-!!” Reasoning proved to be just as unhelpful as he expected when Nox’s fingers began to prod and wedge themselves into the soft divots of his ribs. His arms couldn’t protect him completely. “N-noHOHO! NGH- BIHIHITCH! A-AH!”

Elliot’s eyes were squeezed shut and he could only imagine how wide Nox’s devious smirk was as he swore in between frantic laughter and yelps. Her fingertips pressed into the tender areas of his sides, causing him to buck wildly and twist away from her tickling digits… There wasn’t much else he could do when his back hit the wall, rendering him unable to back away further.

“N-Nox! SHIHIHIT-! Nohohooox! AH-! Quihihit it! QUIT IHIHIT!”

“Hmm…” As she continued to torment the other with simple poking and prodding to the exposed areas of his midriff, Nox hummed in mock thought. “And what if I don’t want to? This is entirely more entertaining than sweeping and folding blankets, wouldn’t you agree?” At the mercy of Nox and his own mirth, Elliot couldn’t do much but shake his head wildly in disagreement. As much as he struggled to stifle and choke back his own squeals and guffaws, they still managed to spill past his lips. Once he started laughing, it was nearly impossible to get him to stop until the person tickling him decided they were finished.

“While it might be more entertaining, there’s a job that needs to be done that you two were put in charge of and there sure is a whole lot of that not getting done.” A familiar calm, baritone voice sounded from the doorway. Nox froze, pulling her hands away from Elliot. The two’s attention snapped to where the voice was resonating from.

She was so lost in her amusement towards the boy that she wasn’t aware of her superior, the right hand and body guard of the leader of The Resistance, leaning on the doorframe, quietly observing the subordinates with narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow. His large, built arms were crossed in disapproval.

“B-Bernard!” Nox felt her cheeks grow warm. It was known far and wide throughout The Resistance that she had an untamed lust for the man before them. Her normally bossy disposition and superiority complex would shatter whenever he was around, rendering her desperate and vulnerable. Whether Bernard himself was aware of that was a different story. His dark eyes held the disapproving gaze. “I was… I just- Elliot, he was being uncooperative, and I-” At the sound of his own name, Elliot shot a glare at the woman trying to pin the whole debacle on him.

“M-me!?” Trying to regain his composure, Elliot straightened up, patting down the wrinkles on h is sweater. “You were the one who’s fucking bossing me around like always and-”

“Enough.” Bernard didn’t have to yell more times than not. This was one of those instances. Between Nox’s devotion, desire, and respect towards the dark-haired man and his intimidating aura having a solid grasp on Elliot, the duo shut up right away, their gazes meeting the floor. He continued to speak, his voice was leveled and cold. “Frankly, I don’t care what the two of you do while you’re off duty. Have all the tickle fights you want or bicker until your heart’s content then. Not when you have a job you need to get done. Understood?”

“Yes, sir…” Nox acknowledged him quietly.

“Y… Yeah.” Elliot followed up, shifting awkwardly. The larger man’s posture relaxed once the two seemed more cooperative, his arms falling to his sides. Though, the stern look hardly wavered from his features.

“Good. Both of you get back to work, make sure this room is spotless in a couple of hours.” Bernard turned to leave the room with a light and aggravated sigh.

The room was quiet and still until Bernard’s footsteps that echoed down the hall were no longer audible. Nox approached the doorway, peeking out for good measure; He was gone. She looked back at Elliot who was silently picking up the quilt he was fussing with earlier, patting the flecks of dust off it. With a sigh, she returned to Elliot, lightly tapping her fingers on his shoulder to get his attention. He flinched, whipping around to shoot a glare her way.

“Whoa, whoa! Easy-” Nox pulled away. “I was just going to… Offer to help you fold the quilts.”

“Help…?” Elliot echoed in disbelief, suspicion weighing heavily on his brow.

“Y-yeah, just… To get it done faster so Bernard doesn’t get upset at me because I have you holding me back!” She huffed, a hue of pink dusting her cheeks. “Here, I’ll teach you how to fold the quilts. It’s easier with two people.” The boy seemed to relax after a moment when Nox offered her hand.

“Uh-huh…” Elliot knew her change of tune was because of Bernard, though part of him wondered if she was musing over her earlier comment towards him about folding. “Er, thanks, I guess…” He gave her the one end of the blanket.

“Don’t mention it, Tough Guy. Now, just follow my lead…”

[enhais]

Hii I love your works!! How about yandere vampire Enhypen and their reaction to their s/o tries to poison them so they can escape but fails

yandere!enhypen’s s/o poison them to escape but fails

content: gn!reader, yandere, possessive behaviour, mentions of punishment, the reader tries to poison/kill them, manipulation

[im trying a new layout… let me know if you like it or not </3]

jungwon

you didn’t know about the cameras watching your every move and were therefore devastated that your pathetic attempt to poison him failed.

he came home from work and you offered him a cup of coffee which he immediately turned down. “you think you’re so smart, huh?” he backed you into the counter, making you feel weak underneath his stare. this was a talent of his and you hated it. with tears in your eyes, you knew you were gonna get punished, “im sorry…” you trailed off, voice quiet as you traced your eyes down his shirt instead. jungwon loved seeing you like this, it made him feel in control. he tutted, “what am i going to do with you?” before grabbing your wrist and pulling you to the bedroom.

heeseung

he was smarter than you thought. he had no toxins in the house, not even powerful cleaning products. he tended to use soap and house remedies, not giving you a chance to poison him.

you were looking everywhere, thinking that he had to have something. a few moments later you found it. nutmeg. a couple of teaspoons would result in seizures, irregular heartbeat, and nausea, only to name a few. you decided to make his favourite soup and use an excuse like “i just wanted to make you happy.” because that would make sense. he ate the whole thing and even asked if there was more, but you just smiled. he loved you so much and he was so grateful that you had cooked for him. it wouldn’t take long before he was breathing heavier and scratching his throat. “you’ll regret this.” was the last thing you heard before running towards the door. it wouldn’t open. not without his fingerprint. you were fucked.

jay

he saw you putting something in his food, so of course, he switched the plates before you noticed - making you the one to eat the poison.

a spoonful of food went into your mouth and you didn’t question jay sitting on the other side, smiling and waiting for the show to start. suddenly, you began choking. reaching for the water, jay cleared his throat, “you tried to poison me, hm? you tried to kill your soulmate?” panic flushed through your body, what were you supposed to do? you couldn’t stop couching, giving jay a pleading look to help you. “you want to live?” you nodded frantically, “let me kiss, and touch you without refusing, for an entire month, and i’ll give you the antidote.” as tears slipped from your eyes, you nodded yet again. “good pet.”

jake

he had no idea what you were doing. something was off, he knew that much, but what he wasn’t sure of. it was the way you acted, like you were covering something up. he had never seen you like this before and it worried him.

you had just put poison in his water and was going to give it to him before the quilt set in. looking into those puppy-like eyes of his, it made your heart break. why did you want him to die? “what’s wrong?” he asked concernedly, seeing how you were breathing unsteadily, “i- im sorry. i’ll give y- you another glass…” you answered before going back to the kitchen. he never found out what you did, but he had his suspicions.

sunghoon

there was not a chance you were getting away with that. he had locked away all the vital toxins because he knew he couldn’t trust you. those were for him, and him only.

however, you were rather confident that you could open the safe, no matter how difficult he made it seem. you slipped away one night when the guys were over, telling your apparent lover that you were going to the bathroom. he squeezed your hand and nodded, letting you go. you went to your shared bedroom and looked inside the closet. there it was. your hands started to fiddle with the lock, but with no luck. after a while, sunghoon decided to check up on you, thinking something was wrong. “what are you doing, baby?” he cocked his head and raised a brow. shit. “please, im sorry…” he laughed and dragged you out to the living room, “you will be.”

sunoo

similar to jake, he wouldn’t think of his darling to be the kind to poison him. and you wouldn’t have the heart to do that to him either… but if you had to, you had to.

you didn’t know what to use, but you’d heard that bleach had an effect. it would make one vomit which would then lead to other problems. you had seen some bleach in the basement from the first day you arrived. sunoo was sleeping, but no wonder, it was three in the morning. you got the bleach and poured some into his morning coffee, letting it sit until he woke up. an hour passed and you started to regret your doing. he had been so kind to you, why would you want to leave? anxiety filled your body and you started to cry. “what’s wrong?” sunoo mumbled, a warm hand caressing your arm. “don’t drink the coffee… i- i made a mistake.” he smiled slightly, tracing circles with his thumb, “we’ll talk about this later, hm? get some sleep.”

niki

you’re fucked if he finds out. you know that, right? he’ll turn into the thing you feared the most. you wouldn’t see light for weeks. you tried to kill the most important person in your life and you had to pay a “reasonable” price.

you wanted to get out of this hell hole. he told you multiple times that he was the one for you, but it was rare to see him act like the person he told you that he was. he treated you with disrespect. he wanted to be the one on the throne, being worshipped and loved, instead of putting you up on a pedestal. you hated him and you had to get away. the poison was locked in a cupboard in the basement. you knew where the key was, but niki had a very close eye on you. when he found out what you were doing, seeing you poison his drink, you dropped the bottle. “you know what’s going to happen, right?” your eyes met the floor, but he bent down to look at you anyway. he had that sick smile of his plastered on his face, “i’ll try my best not to hurt you too much.”

[holobandit]

Howdy Neighbor!

Chapter 10: Skinny Dippin’

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Agent Whiskey | Jack Daniels/AFAB!Reader

Read it on Ao3

Series Masterlist

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Warnings: No use of Y/N, Legal Age Gap, Food Mention, Food Consumption, Alcohol Mention, Alcohol Consumption, Intoxication, Kissing, Touching, Smut, Skinny Dipping(duh), Whiskey Dick

Summary: Jack has been planning this star watching by the river date since he dropped you off after the fair. It's finally time to go out on that perfect date.

A/N: I got a certain scene from this chapter in art form by the great @frying-panties !! Def go check it out after reading this chapter, and check out fry's page too!!

Those promises of more dates did come. Each one ended in Whiskey going down on you, making you cum, vision going white as he licked every drop up. He never asked for anything in return, which you found odd. Even when you try to initiate, Whiskey was quicker to get you on your back and your legs spread for him. Even after he was done, with an obvious tent in his pants, he never asked for you. He was taking things slow, extremely slow. Whiskey wanted to do this right, he wanted to make sure you were taken care of first, even if that means neglecting what he wanted. Old Whiskey would have fucked you on every surface of his house by now. He wanted to do this right, let his heart lead instead of his dick. He could tell you wanted to please him, wanting to fulfill his needs as well. Whiskey needed time to convince himself that he was worthy of his needs, of you.

This next date was simple, just you two by a secluded spot by the river at night. He would park his bronco by the bank, pull out the snacks and drinks so you two could watch the stars at night. You were just excited to be spending time with him again. You were counting down the minutes until sunset.

Once you heard that familiar car honk, you raced down your stairs and slipped on your sneakers. You practically skipped out to Whiskey’s Bronco. Whiskey let out a soft giggle as you buckled yourself in.

“Somebody is happy to see me.” Whiskey winked.

“You kept me waiting all day!” You lean into Whiskey, “You know how much I like spending time with you.”

Whiskey closes the space between you to lay a soft kiss on your lips, “Ain’t ever gonna get tired of kissin’ you.”

“Same here, cowboy.” You smile back, “Now where are we heading?”

“Oh,” Whiskey smirked and started the Bronco down the road, “You’ll see soon.”

Whiskey drove down to his place, and went right by it. The sun was painting the sky with oranges and red. It was beautiful, but the cowboy next to you had your whole attention. The roof of the Bronco was off, letting the reds of the sky hit your cowboy’s tanned skin, making it glow. His chocolate eyes were made brighter by the oranges of the setting sun. You really loved Jack, especially in this moment, just holding your hand and enjoying the joy ride in his Bronco.

Whiskey finally turned off the main dirt road and to a little clear spot by the local river. The Trees hung over you two until it hit the bank of the river. Whiskey backed up his Bronco to where the trunk was facing the river. He parked and got out of the car. You followed him to the tail gate and watched him open it. In the trunk was a small cooler along with a bag. He then stepped up onto the tailgate and grabbed the bag. He pulled out two quilts of the large bag and laid them down across the bed of the trunk. Whiskey sat down on the mat and patted next to him. You couldn’t keep your excitement to yourself. You practically leaped up to the trunk bed. Whiskey let out a soft laugh as he reached back to the cooler and pulled out two beers, along with some crackers and pepperoni to snack on.

“This is the best view to watch the sunset,” Whiskey mentioned towards the river, “Glad I can share it with you.”

Whiskey leans in and softly kisses you, running a hand up your thigh. You pull away and grab one of the beers in his free hand. You scoot closer to him as he grabs the bottle opener from the bag. You couldn’t help but lightly run your hand on his thick thigh, giving it a light squeeze.

Whiskey let out a soft hum, “You ain’t even had a sip of that beer and you’re already getting touchy?”

“You made me wait all day.” You sigh.

“Then you’re gonna have to wait a little more.” Whiskey smirked.

Whiskey popped open your beers and open the bags of snacks. You two chatted about your day as you watched the sunset and the stars slowly come up. Whiskey listen intently and gave you small kisses on your cheek and forehead between the chats. You returned them as well, Whiskey humming in approval.

After Whiskey finished his first beer, he set the empty bottle behind him and pulled out a mason jar with a few peaches at the bottom, making the liquid in the jar have a light orange tint to it. It had some scotch tape on the jar that said:

To: Jack

Congrats on the new brewery! Make sure to share this.

From: Champ

“Guess what I have!” Whiskey lightly shook the mason jar back and forth, causing the peaches to swirl in the liquid.

“Someone gifted you moonshine?” Your jaw dropped, “How is that-“

“As long as I don’t sell it, it’s perfectly legal here in Texas.” Whiskey winked, “Wanna try some?”

“Someone has to be below the legal limit to drive.” You shot him a look.

Whiskey leaned back as he spun the mason jar lid open, “I trust ya to drive my girl here. I’ll enjoy this peachy delight, but I’ll make sure to save some for my sugar.”

My Sugar. You and Whiskey were really at this point in your relationship, calling him yours and vice versa. You leaned in and looked up at the night sky, watching the stars shine down on the two of you. Hearing the occasional cicada sing, you really cared about Jack. Hell, you loved him. You’re going to tell him that.

You turn back to Whiskey to see him tacking a large swig of the peach moonshine. He swallows the drink, and you could just feel the sting on Whiskey’s face. He shuts his eyes tightly and lets out a long “hooo boy”.  You couldn’t help but laugh.

“A little too much for my cowboy?” You raise an eyebrow, jokingly.

“The peach flavor is helpin’ a little.” Whiskey’s voice was a little hoarse, “But it’s way too good to not drink it!”

You shook your head as Whiskey giggled before he downed another swig of the moonshine. Whiskey got very cuddly as the night went on. The stars began to shine even brighter, and the moon shined down onto the river, reflecting right into your little oasis. Whiskey was at his fourth drink of the moonshine, and you could clearly see the drunkenness on Whiskey’s cheeks. He had started rubbing small circles on the small of your back. He kept rambling on about how pretty you were and how he just adores you. He was like a lovesick puppy with his rambles.

With one last swig of moonshine, Whiskey was finally able to get one of the soaked peaches into his mouth. He was absolutely showing off for you. Some of the moonshine escaped through the corners of his mouth. You wish you could kiss away the peachy moonshine on his face, but he quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand. You finally pry the mason jar out of his hand and spin the lid back on it.

You reach back to put the moonshine in the small cooler, “I think you’ve had enough, Jack. I don’t…”

You turn back to see that Whiskey had gotten down from the bed of the trunk and was making his way over to the bank of the river. You yell his name, and he stops. He kicks of his boots and pulls off his socks. He slowly began taking off his clothes and hanging them on a low hanging tree branch. He looked back at you, making sure not to turn his back, wanting you to get a good look at his ass. You had to admit, it was a great ass too. Whiskey hung his hat on the branch and sauntered his way into the river. Once Whiskey’s thighs hit the water, he stopped and turned to face you again, and still made sure his has was at a decent angle for you to look at.

With a smirk you could see from miles away, Whiskey yelled, “Ain’t you comin’, Darlin’?”

Your body betrayed you and you began to make your way over to where Whiskey had hung his clothes. Whiskey turned his back to you as he walked deeper into the river. You took this chance to tear of your clothes, throwing them onto the branch and making your way into the cold river. You slowly followed Whiskey’s path until the both of you were in shoulder length water.

Whiskey finally turned to face you, “Knew you’d follow Ol’ Jack.”

Your teeth chattered and goosebumps rose on your skin, “I followed you out here because I didn’t want you drowning on my watch!”

“I ain’t that drunk, Darlin’,” Whiskey laughed, “And it looks like somebody gettin’ chilly.”

Whiskey reached out and pulled you close. He was a furnace in the cold water. Your hands shot out of the water and wrapped themselves around Whiskey’s neck. You began to play with the hair at his neck. Whiskey hummed in approval as he began laying kisses up your neck and slowly drifting his hands down to your hips.

“Knowing you, you probably planned for this to happen.” You joked.

“Oh, I did.” Whiskey said between kisses.

You raised an eyebrow at his response. Whiskey stopped kissing your neck and just chuckled to himself.

“There are two towels in the bag I brought.” Whiskey ran his thumbs across the front of your hips.

“I should have guessed.” You giggled, “No, I should have known.”

Your giggles quickly turned into soft moans as Whiskey grabbed fistfuls of your ass. He lightly nips at your neck and whatever skin is breaking the water. You glid your fingertips around his neck and down to his chest. Your hands slowing dip into the water. You feel a shiver from Whiskey as you graze his nipples. You lightly tug on them which gets you a deep moan from his throat. You try to dip your hands even lower, but Whiskey jerks his hips away from you. You pull your hands out of the water and pull Whiskey’s face away from your neck.

“Jack…” You whisper, “What’s wrong? You’ve done this every time we’re intimate. Is there something wrong? Wrong with me?”

“No! Nothin’ wrong with you, Darlin’.” Jack sighs, his face still in your hands, “It’s….just me.”

You look into Whiskey’s eyes, and you see hurt, a lot of it too. The way the moon light is shining into Whiskey’s eyes make them even more sorrowful. You realize what Whiskey needs in this moment.

“Jack,” You run your thumb across Whiskey’s bottom lip, “I let you kiss me because I care about you. I let you hold me, go on dates with you, and ride up that path on your farm because I care about you. What I’m trying to say….”

You take a deep breath in and lock eyes with Whiskey again, you feel tears well up in your eyes. Every moment you shared with him has led up to this moment.

“I love you, Jack.” You exhale, “Let me show you my love by taking care of you.”

You felt tears begin to roll down your face. Whiskey’s hands quickly comes out of the water to wipe them way. After Whiskey wiped them away, you see a soft smile creep up on your lover’s face. You close the space between you two for a soft kiss. It’s extremely slow. You lightly tap your tongue along his bottom lip to ask for entry, and he happily obliges. You taste the faint hint of Georgia peaches on his tongue, it’s intoxicating.

Whiskey breaks away from the kiss to say, “I love you so much, Darlin’.” He dives in and says in in-between kisses on your lips, neck, and any skin available, “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love-“

He pushes up against you until you could feel his half-hard cock pressing into your lower stomach. You slide your hand down to Whiskey’s cock and run your fingertip above his slit. He whimpers. You know this is about how hard he’s going to get tonight from drinking all that moonshine. You could care less, if he feels good, then you’re happy.

Whiskey pulls away and whispers your name like it’s sacred, “Let’s head to my place. I wanna treat you right.”

You nod, “And I want to treat you right, Jack.”

You two lean and touch foreheads and stay still for a moment before you two make the swim back to the bank to get your clothes and get dried off.

Divider by saradika

[crystalas]

Instincts

Instincts

A one shot inspired by @purble-turble and @its-kall-the-clown Cos I love the two concepts and they need to be together. Secret relationship Pregnancy and the concept of nesting, this is also pure fluff.

 Red Son was feeling a conflict of many emotions at the moment and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it; on one hand he was elated that he was soon to be a parent and so happy to be going through this with the one person he has ever met that seemed to get him. He would often find himself day dreaming of what he and his little one could be doing as they grow up, hearing them say their first word, watch them take their first steps, the whole idea was exciting!

But he also felt a foreboding dread in his stomach when he thought about it too, there was the fact that he was indeed having a child with an enemy of the family. Even if his family doesn’t immediately kill his mate and child if they found out they would no doubt have plans for their grandchild given its heritage. Which is why they were hiding out till MK could safely defend himself and their baby from any harm without Red Son just in case his family tries anything.

The one thing however that had Red Son terrified whenever he thought about it was the child itself. The more research he did into pregnancy, birth and possible midwifery [there was a bloody good chance he was going to be the one delivering their child so he wanted that stuff memorised!] the more he realised how easily this pregnancy could go horribly wrong.

There was the factor of biology, MK was human and Red Son was a demon two beings that had vastly different life spans. Demon pregnancies lasted twelve to eighteen months while humans only lasted nine, would the child be born premature or be okay at nine months? Would the child be only ready at twelve and need caesarean to be born? Red Son balked at that idea it was scary enough at the idea of a home birth but he couldn’t imagine him purposely stabbing MK to get their child. Not to mention the difference in magic, the creation side of Monkey King’s powers and the destructive nature of his fire magic did not seem like a good mix, especially in a baby!

Red Son would wake up sweating after having nightmares of coming back home to find MK’s charred remains on the bed and their child innocently playing with the burnt remains of their parent’s entrails.

Although Red Son was feeling all these emotions and more, he planned on keeping them to himself. MK was going through enough as it is; seeing as he had to stay hidden from his family. MK wanted nothing more than to announce the news of their little bundle of joy but Red Son informed them that his parents had Bull Clones on constant surveillance of their hang out, there was no safe way for them to know without Demon Bull King finding them. He didn’t need Red Son telling him that he might have a flaming chest burster growing in his belly! So Red Son was going to be the best supporting partner and if that meant going on an ice cream run then so be it.

He came into the apartment and headed to the kitchen to put the ice cream away he froze when he saw the living room…

It looked like someone had tore up the sofas and then had been knocked over in a struggle. He couldn’t see MK anywhere so slammed the ice cream down on the table and searched the house. The airing cupboard had been opened and emptied out it looked like something had ransacked his house…Red Son’s heart started to pound and his throat was dry as he couldn’t bring himself to call out and was about to go into full panic mode when he heard something.

“Dang it!” MK groaned.

Red Son honed in and found himself bolting to the bedroom where he heard the voice and nearly tore the door off its hinges to find MK kneeling on the floor with what seemed every cushion, pillow, blanket and pile it up on the mattress that had also been pulled onto the bedroom floor. MK turned around to see Red Son staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for the mess…” he muttered, “I don’t know why but I really want to make a blanket fort but I can’t get it right which doesn’t make sense…and ugh this is so frustrating!”

Red Son stared at MK for a full minute before he burst out laughing both in relief and at the sheer absurdness at the situation.

“You’re nesting!” he chuckled once he got a hold of himself “I can’t believe it, you’re nesting!”

“What?!” MK cried “I’ve read that pregnancy scroll you showed me! That’s a demon thing, I’m not a demon!”

Red Son leant down and hugged MK from behind.

“Hate to break it to you Noodle Boy but you’ve got a lot of demon in you right now!” he laughed as he reached forward and put a hand on MK’s six-month belly. MK pulled a face as they recalled having an ungodly craving for wheat grass and charcoal during the early months, that had been embarrassing to be caught eating.

“So, want help me have another crack at this?” MK demanded as Red Son helped him up, the fire demon laughed again.

“Sure, but let’s try and minimise the use of material I would like to sleep in a bed tonight…”

After an hour of trail and error they finally created a nest that MK felt comfortable in, it was a sort of tent made from bedsheets, with the winter quilt as the floor with every spare cushion and pillow used to add for support. The edges of the nests were raised slightly by the cushions and pillows underneath as it was now sat on the floor in a corner of the bedroom.

“This is such a weird thing to feel compelled to do” MK muttered as they laid in their creation.

“Not really when you consider that most demons lived in caves or run-down buildings, I imagine wanted a safe soft place to have your young is a very practical instinct…” Red Son explained as he rolled over to face his partner. MK was looking thoughtful and rubbing his stomach gently.

“Does this mean I’m probably gonna give birth in this?”

“If you want, but if that is the case, I’m going to laid down some plastic sheets. No offence but I don’t want this stuff to get stained…”

MK took a spare pillow and smacked Red Son in the face with it.

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

oasis

Peter Quill x Reader

Prompt: “can we share the blanket?”

Summary: quill catches you building a blanket fort to surprise groot with, and surprises you by helping. the two of you decide to test it out before the crew get back, and he shows you a side of him you haven’t really seen before.

Warnings: smut, fluff, hint of angst, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, adult language.

Word Count: 4,486

Got a Request? Prompt List: here

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You were humming quietly along with the dulcet sound of the Fleetwood Mac you’d left playing over the ship’s speakers, enjoying the way it echoed lightly down the metal walls of the corridor towards you. You made your way down to the cargo bay of the Benatar, your arms piled high with the sheets and blankets you’d just pilfered from your bunk. You cursed quietly to yourself as the toe of your slipper caught on a seam in the floor, tripping you up slightly as you went. Still, it did nothing to dull your good mood.

You dumped the blankets on the floor once you reached the quiet corner of the cargo bay you’d selected earlier, joining the stacks of pillows you’d already brought out between two shoulder-high storage crates. You smiled, pleased with yourself, releasing a happy sigh before setting about your self-appointed task. You never got hours like this, peaceful, simple moments without the sounds of crewmates arguing or the clattering of metal on metal. You loved your life with the Guardians, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t sometimes crave the quiet.

You bent over, searching through the stack of blankets for the biggest.

“Not that I mind the view, but you wanna tell me what you’re doing with my bedding?”

You jumped, startled, before arching your neck to look back over your shoulder. Peter Quill was standing behind you, leaning his shoulder against the ladder to the cockpit with his arms folded across his chest. He’d removed his jacket since re-boarding, the short sleeves of his tee shirt showcasing the muscles in his arms. He had an eyebrow raised in wry amusement, a trademark smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes at him before turning back to what you were doing, unsure if you’d imagined his gaze lingering over your backside.

“Your bedding is safe. This is all from crew quarters,” you assured him. Both you and Mantis struggled with the cold of the ship when you were off world, so you’d made it a mission even before she’d joined the crew to always have more than enough blankets on board. They’d kind of become bulky souvenirs of the planets you visited, and you usually kept them stacked in a locker in the corner of the bunk you shared with her and Gamora. Thankfully now that you’d all upgraded to the Benatar, you had more space – while Quill, as captain, still had his own private quarters, there was now an extra bunk for Drax, Rocket and Groot to use. You glanced down at the pillow in front of you. “…and a few from the medical supply crate.”

“What, you finally got sick of hearing Drax’s snoring through the wall?”

You turned around to face him properly, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Are you kidding? It’s like white noise to me now. I don’t think I could ever sleep again without an active sawmill present.” Quill chuckled. “What are you doing back? You guys only left like an hour ago.”

He shrugged. “Xandar gets boring fast.”

It was your turn to raise a brow. “There’s a whole planet out there full of gullible idiots, pretty women with loose morals, and plentiful booze. What more could you want?”

“Wow.” he snickered. “I feel seen.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So? Why couldn’t all the wonders of Xandar’s seedy underbelly hold your attention, Star Lord?”

He ignored the question, the easy smile still on his lips. “The hell are you doing, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you come join me and find out?”

He gave you a smirk, the glint in his eyes mischievous. “Can we share the blanket?”

“I think there’s more than enough to go around,” you said dryly, and his smile widened. Your impatient answers to his flirty remarks always seemed to entertain him. Which was probably why he kept doing it. “But that would be the idea.”

“Huh?”

You pulled one of the pillows to your chest and wrapped your arms around it. “It’s a surprise. For Groot.”

“Is he sick of Drax’s snoring?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, standing and shaking out one of the largest, heavier quilts. You flung it over the crates, letting it hang over them like a canopy. “I’m building him a pillow fort, jackass.”

“A pillow fort.”

“Yup.”

“A pillow fort.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “Quill.”

“Why exactly?”

“C’mon, dude.” you said, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it, one-handed, with a grin. “Didn’t you ever build a pillow fort as a kid?”

Peter was quiet for a moment before he made a show of rolling his eyes and shrugging. Still, a small smile teased at the corner of his lips. “Want a hand?”

***

You sighed in satisfaction, wiping your hands together as you surveyed your work. The two of you had, on his suggestion, shoved the crates back against the wall, and in the little alcove you’d created together was one hell of a pillow fort. You’d draped sheets and blankets over the entire thing and layered more over the metal floor. Pillows had been thrown into haphazard piles, making the whole thing seem like some kind of gaudy, cozy nest. Quill had surprised you by rigging the string of lights he and Rocket sometimes used to do repairs at night to a much lower brightness and had hung them around the makeshift tent like the fairy lights you’d had as a kid.

“I think it’s safe to say that we nailed it.” you said proudly, holding up a hand. Peter grinned beside you, slapping it with his own in a high-five. “Groot is gonna love it. Storytime was always better in a fort when I was a kid.”

“Wanna try it out?”

You grinned widely at him, and the two of you dropped to your knees at the same time. Peter held the ‘door’ open for you, letting it drop closed behind him as he crawled inside after you. You turned to collapse happily among the cushions, sighing contentment as you stretched out languidly. Peter took a similar position beside you; the two of you barely fit inside, his shoulder bumping against yours. You bent your knees and drew them up towards you to bring them inside the fort, and you hooked one over one of his. He had his bent as well, and your foot dangled a couple of inches off the floor. He tucked his hand behind his head, looking over at you with an amused smile.

“Comfy?”

Peter looked up, considering the fort. “Y’know, I don’t think we made it big enough.”

You furrowed your brow, turning your head to look at him. “What d’you mean? Groot and I will be fine in here.”

He shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, we barely fit in here as it is…”

“Why, Peter Ignatius Quill,” you said teasingly, laughing when he cocked an eyebrow at you. “Are you saying that you want to join us for story time?”

“You know that’s not my middle name, right?”

“I blanked.” you admitted with a shrug. “What is it?”

He laughed loudly, the sound breaking through the peaceful bubble the two of you had created between the blankets. “It’s Jason!”

“My bad,” you giggled, shying away from his as he reached out to poke you in the side. “It was the first thing I thought of!”

“Think of something cooler next time!”

“Alright, alright…” you surrendered, turning your head towards him and reaching over to prod his arm with a fingertip. “But don’t dodge the question. Are you – the big, bad, space pirate leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy—saying you would like to come read children’s stories with me and Groot?”

“It is such a turn on when you start describing me like that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, I get all tingly, all the way down to my—"

“You’re still avoiding the question.” you said pointedly, cutting him off. He breathed a quiet chuckle as you did, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. “Story time?”

“Well, why not?”

“You know we’ve moved past picture books, right?”

He smacked you lazily on the bicep with the back of his hand by way of retort, letting his hand fall back to rest on his stomach. He interlocked his fingers above his belt buckle, the picture of casual relaxation. Your leg was still thrown over his, your calf pressed against his inner thigh. His gaze returned to the canopy above, and you studied the angle of his jaw absentmindedly, your eyes tracing along the dusting of strawberry blonde stubble that seemed darker in the muted light. “I spent a good chunk of my quality time building this stupid thing, I should get some use out of it.”

You raised a cynical brow, amused. The two of you never could help but poke at each other with childish barbs and banter, maybe even more so than the two of you dished it out to the other members of the crew. Maybe it was a reflex at this point, but it was still always entertaining. You affected an offended tone as you spoke again, even with a smile on your face. “Well, if you think it’s so stupid, why’d you spend all this time on it?”

“It’s not…” Peter sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s not stupid. It’s just…”

Your brow furrowed as you watched him struggle to find the words. You sobered, surprised that he hadn’t caught you in your joke. Instead, he seemed… flustered. “Quill?”

“You know, I forgot about it ‘til now.” he said ruefully, almost disbelievingly. He raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair. “…I used to build these when I was a kid.”

“Yeah…” you said slowly, confused. “I mean, a lot of kids did…”

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, I mean when my Mom got sick.”

“Oh.”

It was all you could think to say.

“It got… it got really hard, once she was hospitalized.” he said, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. His voice was soft and thoughtful, almost as if he’d forgotten you were there. Even so many years later, you could hear the thread of pain in his words. He reached up to touch his fingers to the edge of one of the blankets. “I built one of these one night, and basically never left it. I’d tuck myself away in it for hours with my Walkman and just ignore the rest of the world. Got to the point where I didn’t even come out for meals; Grandpa had to drag me outta there every day for school.”

You hesitated a moment before reaching over slowly and covering his hand with your own. “Peter…”

His eyebrows twitched upward as he looked down at your hand in surprise. You felt his hand turn under yours, his fingers smoothing almost carefully over your skin as he took hold of it. He looked up, turning his head to meet your eye. “You never call me that.”

You could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your fingers with each breath he took. The edge of his belt buckle brushed against your knuckle; a stark coldness compared to the surprising heat of his body.  You meant your response to be cavalier, dismissive even, at this sudden change in the atmosphere between the two of you. Instead, it came out softly, barely more than a murmur. “Sure, I do.”

He shook his head, a small smile curving at one side of his mouth. Even though neither of you had moved, he seemed so much closer to you now, the two of you shoulder to shoulder. “No, you don’t. Not really. Closest you’ve ever gotten was tacking ‘Ignatius’ on it just now.”

You shook your head in amusement, smiling back at him. “It was a joke.”

His thumb brushed rhythmically over the back of your hand, his head turning to look back up at the blankets above you. “Sure it was.”

“What do you care?” you said teasingly. “I didn’t think you liked your first name so much, Star Lord.”

He shrugged the shoulder pressed against yours, meeting your eye again. His eyes were dark in the dull light, shining with amusement and affection. They were almost magnetic, and you felt warmth rise in your cheeks as your gaze fell to his lips briefly. You felt his hand squeeze yours, and there was a charming, knowing quirk to his lips that made your heartbeat quicken.

You swallowed as he leaned towards you, and when he spoke, his lips were barely an inch from yours, his voice was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it over your own heart.

“I don’t mind it so much when you say it.”

Peter’s lips met yours, brushing against them in a chaste, whisper of a kiss. It was soft and gentle, his nose bumping against yours. His tongue touched your bottom lip as you parted them to breathe, his thumb still smoothing circles over your hand. You felt a shiver tingle its way up your spine, and his other hand came up to slide over the leg still thrown over his as he rolled onto his side to face you. His tongue slid languidly over yours, and you could feel his smile as he kissed you more deeply.

You exhaled shakily against his lips as his hand smoothed up your thigh, and he gave a light snicker as you parted, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Apparently you really like it.” you said after a moment, your voice unsteady. He grinned, his hand still trailing slowly up your leg, and your breath caught as it teased down to your inner thigh. He moved to kiss you again, but you pressed your free hand to his chest. “Peter.”

He smiled softly and reached up to tuck hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “Yeah?”

“What exactly are we doing?”

He smirked, his face moving towards yours again. “Want me to draw you a diagram?”

Peter kissed you again, his hand on the side of your neck. You let it linger for a moment, your fingers curling in the front of his shirt and tugging him closer. Peter responded eagerly, his hand moving down to take hold of your hip and pulling you towards him. You rolled onto your side, and Peter slung your leg up over his hip, his hand sliding up the back of it. It lingered just below the curve of your ass, gripping your leg almost possessively.

You felt his hips press suggestively into yours, and you couldn’t help but whimper against his lips, your hand tugging at the hair at the back of his head. Peter chuckled as you did, and you pulled away, embarrassed by your reaction.

You moved your hand to his shoulder, avoiding his gaze and looking down at his chest. You took a steadying breath, willing your heart to stop pounding. “Peter.”

You could feel a quiet laugh in his chest, his hand moving up to your waist. You shivered as his fingers ghosted up under your shirt to tease at bare skin. “Y/N.”

Your lips parted, intent on questioning him again… to ask what you were doing, where this sudden change in your friendship had come from… to ask what would happen later, if you didn’t stop. But then you felt the gentle, affectionate brush of his lips against your forehead, and suddenly, you didn’t feel the need to talk anymore. Instead, you met his eyes for a moment before you kissed him again, cupping his cheek in your hand.

Peter smiled into the kiss, the hand on your hip moving to the small of your back, urging you closer to him. The cold metal of his belt buckle was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and your ran your other hand down his stomach to the hem of his shirt. He groaned lightly into your mouth as your fingers crept under his shirt to caress the smooth skin of his stomach. You traced your nails over the muscles, and they twitched in response.

His hand moved to your ass, squeezing it eagerly and urging you closer. Peter slung his hips into yours, and you whimpered into his kiss at the feeling of him hardening against your thigh. Your hand moved to his side, and he broke the kiss with a light laugh, his face falling to the crook of your neck.

You grinned widely. “Are you ticklish?”

“Pfft, no!” he scoffed obnoxiously, wriggling away from you as you ran your fingertips across his waist again. “You—”

He caught hold of your hands, forcing you onto your back and straddling your waist. He pinned them on either side of your head, a cocksure smirk on his face as he looked down at you. “Now you’re in trouble.”

You snickered, wetting your lips with your tongue. You pushed your hips up into his suggestively. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, Star Lord?”

His grin widened, interlacing his fingers with yours and moving them above your head as he bent down towards you. His nose brushed lightly against yours, his mouth hovering teasingly above yours. You arched up to kiss him again, and he moved out of reach playfully, instead trailing kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck.

He lingered over your pulse point, and your eyes closed, a light moan escaping you as he sucked a mark into your skin. “Oh, well, that just sounded… cute.” He murmured against your skin, releasing your hands, and tugging your shirt up over your stomach. “But, that’s not what I’m looking for.”

He moved down to press kisses down your stomach, and you ran a hand through his hair. He leaned into it as he undid your jeans with practiced ease, and your hand tightened reflexively as he tugged them roughly down your thighs. Goosebumps erupted over your legs, his nose ghosting over your stomach and his teeth catching the waistband of your underwear and snapping it against your skin teasingly.

“And what exactly are you— Oh!” you jerked under him as he forced your legs apart and bit your inner thigh, his hands gripping tightly at your hips as he lathed his tongue over the mark he left behind.

“Closer…”

“I’m not ticklish, Quill.” you told him, rolling your eyes as you caught on to what he was trying to do. “But I— fuck, Peter!”

You bucked under him as he pushed your underwear to the side and rolled his tongue against your clit, your hand tightening in his hair. He snickered at your reaction, the sound devolving into a groan as your nails scraped against his scalp, his stubble agitating the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he brought you undone with his tongue.

The lights danced behind your eyelids as Peter slid two fingers inside you; tucked away in your little oasis and feeling everything he did to you made your heart flutter and your stomach tighten. You grabbed at the pillow under your head as you rolled your hips up into him, your chest heaving. “Pete—fuck, don’t… God, I’m gonna—”

He sucked on your clit and you came, arching up against him and your thighs clenching around him. You moaned aloud as you did, too loud for your little hideaway, eyes squeezed shut and toes curling. Peter continued to slowly pump his fingers inside you as he moved up to kiss your hip softly before straightening into a kneel between your legs. He watched his hand, his thumb circling lightly over your clit. He broke into a wide smirk as you twitched at the sensation, his eyes travelling up your body to your face. “Yeah, you love it.”

You bumped your knee hard against his side by way of retort and he finally withdrew his hand with a grin, holding your gaze as he licked his fingers clean. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah?” he ran a hand up your thigh, his other unbuckling his belt. “What are you gonna do about it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, fisting a hand in his shirt and dragging him down for a kiss. It was long, and languid, his tongue sliding over yours, his hand on your hip and his thumb hooked in the waistband of your underwear. You broke away to tug at his shirt pointedly and he straightened to pull it off. Your eyes followed the muscles of his arms, your hand smoothing over a pectoral as he leaned down to kiss you again. He dropped the shirt to the side, moving to remove yours as well.

You stopped him, urging him back down onto the cushions. You swung a leg over his hips slowly, running your hands down his chest before pulling off your shirt. Peter’s eyes dropped heatedly to your chest as you unclipped your bra, his lips parting. He looked almost awed as he stared up at you, his face cast in shadows by the dull lights above you. Your spine tingled at his expression, and you held his gaze as you ran your hands over your chest and rolled your hips slowly over his.

Peter’s head fall back against the pillows at the sensation, his eyes closing and a soft groan slipping between his lips. The sound was intoxicating, as was the feeling of the hard length of his erection pressing up against you. You bit your lip, brow creased as you slowly continued to grind against him. His hands slid up over your thighs, squeezing them rhythmically with every roll of your hips.

You scratched your nails lightly down his stomach before unfastening his pants and wrapping your fingers around his cock. His breath caught as you did, leaving him in a shaky sigh as you stroked him, moved your underwear to the side and slowly sunk down onto his erection. “Jesus Christ, Y/N…”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, offering him a cocky smile of your own. “You love it.”

He laughed quietly, taking hold of your hips as you began to fuck yourself onto him slowly. You leaned forward to take hold of his biceps, enjoying the feel of the bulging muscles under your hands as you rode him. He encouraged you to grind against his pelvic bone and you whimpered; you could feel him stretching you wonderfully, each corkscrew of your hips sending sparks dancing up your lower back.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered, watching you with half-lidded eyes. He ran a hand up your side to your ribs, his thumb resting along the curve of the underside of your breast. “You’re like… fuck, you’re like…”

“Having trouble finding the words there, Star Lord?” you teased quietly, your head lolling back, your eyes closed. You moaned as he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, exhaling slowly as you down to press kisses to his collarbone. His hand moved to your hair, bunching by your ear, and you felt his lips brush the top of your head. “None of my blood is exactly rushing to my brain right now.”

“I’m flattered,” you joked lightly, nipping playfully at his throat.

“But I can say: you call me that again, and this’ll be over a lot quicker than it should be.”

You giggled into his neck, kissing him headily before straightening again. You ran your hands up your sides, bouncing languidly on top of him. Each rise and fall had him sliding against your g-spot, and you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back as his hand returned to your sex. He circled your clit with his thumb and you moaned brokenly.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got fucking fantastic tits, sweets?”

You whined, cupping your breasts and squeezing. Your hips jerked as he pinched your clit, and he swore, thrusting up into you. “Somehow, it – oh, fuck, Peter—”

“God, you’ve got the sweetest voice,” he sat up, his free hand ghosting up your side and gliding over your chest. You shivered at the feeling of it, falling against him, your hips never stopping. Peter’s fingers quickened on your clit as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he murmured in your ear as you tightened around him, an intoxicating mix of sweet nothings and cursing. You ran your fingers through his hair, clinging to him s you felt your orgasm approach.

Peter wrapped his other arm around your waist and bit down on your shoulder, and you came with a cry, hips stuttering against his as each wave of it hit.

Peter hooked his fingers under your chin and raised it gently from where your face was buried against his neck, pressing a kiss to your temple… your cheek… your forehead… the tip of your nose… as you came down, before cupping your face in his hand and capturing you in another breath-stealing kiss.

You rode him unsteadily as your hips shuddered with aftershocks, your thighs squeezing around him. Peter grunted against your lips, his moan muffled as he came, still buried inside you.

“Y/N…”

You kissed him again, your chest heaving against his, eyes fluttering open as you finally caught your breath. “Mmm?”

He grinned at you, pushing hair out of your face with a careful hand. “Yeah. You love it.”

You shoved at his chest, smiling as he laughed in response. You climbed off of his lap shakily, your face warm. “You’re such a—”

Peter let himself fall back against the pillows again, refastening his pants but not bothering with his belt. “Heartthrob? Casanova? Sexual—”

“Deviant?”

Peter smirked, reaching up to ruffle your hair. You ducked away from him, smacking at his arm as you found your bra and clipped it back into place. “Where’re you going?”

“The last thing we need is for the crew to come back and find us like this,” you pointed out, tugging on your pants and the first shirt you grabbed. “Rocket’ll never let us hear the end of it, and Drax’ll be… Drax.”

“That’s a good look on you.” Peter said, his hands tucked behind his head. You looked down at yourself; you’d pulled on his shirt instead of your own. You flushed, but he caught hold of your wrist before you could pull it off again. “Leave it.”

You smiled down at him softly, tucking hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that just as obvious?”

Peter’s hand moved down to your hand, delicately interlacing his fingers with yours. “Would it be so bad?”

“You… you want the others to know about this?”

He pushed himself up onto his elbow, his free hand sliding against the side of your neck and giving you an affectionate smile before pulling you down for a soft, lingering kiss.

.

.

.

.

tags: @peterquillthecutest @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink​ @s0ftness​ @bombardia​

if you would like to be tagged in future stories for quill or any other character, please let me know :) don’t forget to like/comment and please reblog :)

[teddyylou]

Monday: Klance Drabble - teddyylou

Keith woke to gentle kisses being pressed to the shell of his ear. Wrapped up under the warm covers of his bed, he pulled the strong arm that was hugged around his middle even tighter, pressing his boyfriend’s hand, which had crept up under his shirt as they slept, to his chest, kissing his knuckles. 

“Hmm, morning, baby,” Lance hummed, burying his nose snuggly into Keith’s mess of black hair. Keith felt him breathe out happily, the way their feet brushed together at the foot of the bed adding to the serene feeling that was swiftly taking over all of his senses. Every place on him that Lance touched tingled with a warmth that sent goosebumps all over his body, and every breath they took in unison as they snoozed well past Keith’s alarm made his heart swell and his smile grow exponentially. 

“Morning, Lance. Mmh, it’s so sunny and nice you could almost forget that it’s Monday,” he mumbled, rolling over so that he could face his boyfriend. “And your sleepy voice is just so sexy,” he giggled, pressing their foreheads together. 

Lance scrunched up his face, still yet to open his eyes, simply holding Keith closer to him to stop him from wriggling around so much. “Yeah, you can even hear the birds chirping,” he replied with a content sigh, purposefully skipping over Keith’s crass sentiment. 

“Aw, you also say really sappy, cliche things when you’re half asleep. Did you know that?” Keith’s aimed a toothy grin at Lance as he opened his eyes to lour, who merely pulled the pillow out from under Keith’s head and gently smack it back down over his face which a ‘whump’.

Keith tossed it aside, rolling over to share Lance’s pillow so that he could press a kiss to his lips. ‘The first one of the day’ he thought to himself, closed mouth to avoid Lance’s nasty morning breath.

“Hey Lance, you know you have terrible morn-”

Knock, knock.

“Keith, are you up? I heard your alarm go off. Breakfast will be on the table in five; don’t make me come and get you.” Keith and Lance froze as Keith’s mother spoke gently through the door from the hallway. Keith even heard Lance hold his breath.

“Yeah, uh, coming mum,” he called back. They waited for her footsteps to disappear down the hall before Keith could even tear his eyes away from the door, relaxing against his bed as Lance let out his breath with a disappointed sigh. He knew what was coming.

“Okay, Romeo, out you go.” Keith patted Lance’s thigh as he pulled back the covers. Lance, left only in his sweatpants, laid firmly on the mattress shaking his head.

“Nooo, I don’t want to go. Let me stay,” he whined, attempting to pull Keith back against his chest before he could reach for the hoodie he’d stolen from him about a week prior. 

“Mum would kill me if she knew you’d been sneaking in at night, you have to,” Keith pleaded, eyes wide as he tried to force Lance out of his bed. 

“Keith, I’ve been staying here about three nights a week for the last two months! You don’t think she knows?” He asked, leaning over the bed to put his socks back on, tying his converse with a huff. 

“Nope,” Keith said frankly, shaking his arms until his hands poked out of the ends of Lance’s hoodie. He climbed out of bed, catching one of Lance’s arms as he grabbed his shirt, pulling him to his feet. “And she isn’t going to find out. Now, window. Out.” Keith gave Lance a gentle push towards the second-storey window, an easily slidable roof just underneath it that would drop Lance in the front yard of Keith’s house. Lance held his hand up to his heart, scorned. 

“Nine whole months I’ve loved you and here you are, forcing your dear, sweet boyfriend out of a window to ride his bike the whole way home. How you wound me,” he feigned. Keith raised an unsympathetic brow, arms crossed over his chest.

“Forsooth,” he mused, causing Lance’s facade to crack with the upturn of the corner of his lip.

“Ah, so you finally did your English homework,” Lance said, one foot already standing on top of the garage. He straddled the window sill as he slid on his shirt.

“I may has't,” Keith smiled before dawdling over to Lance, handing him his phone. “See you at school.”

“Don’t be late,” Lance said, standing fully on the roof so that he could lean back in, hands supporting him on the sill. “I love you.”

Lance kissed Keith sweetly, clearly not caring as much about morning breath as Keith did. 

“I love you too,” Keith said before leaning in again, even if he knew that Lance did it on purpose, because Keith really just wanted to kiss his boyfriend. “Bye.”

“Bye,” they muttered to each other between short pecks before Lance pushed himself up, slid down the roof, and landed skilfully on the lawn. Keith watched him as he ran down to the street, pulling his bike out of the bush he had stowed it in, and rode off towards his own house. Keith watched until he’d disappeared over the crest of the hill that led to his street, actually enjoying the warm sun and the singing birds because Mondays were always good when he started them next to Lance. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Keith was startled back to reality by his mother’s voice. He’d not even noticed she’d come back up to find him.

“Oh just… some birds,” Keith lied. Krolia stared at her son for a second. 

“Okay,” she replied. “Come get breakfast, we have to leave soon.”

“Cool, be down in a sec.”

***

Keith woke up tangled in sheets and all of the extra blankets he and Lance had thrown over themselves as they went to sleep the night before. His entire body was engulfed in the warmth of the strong arms holding him close, heat radiating off Lance’s chest that was pressed tight to Keith’s back. 

Lance groaned as they both stirred, instantly pulling Keith even closer as the raven wiggled around to face his boyfriend. Keith felt a sleepy kiss against his forehead as he tucked his face into Lance’s neck. It was warm there. No need or desire lingered to go anywhere else. 

Lance adjusted his feet to intertwine them with Keith’s. He, however, managed to pull the blankets with him as he did and for a brief moment, a gust of piercing cold air let itself into their safe cocoon. In unison, they gasped an indigent “Ah!” and huddled in together, giggling as they found themselves safe from the dreary Monday morning weather.

They laid in silence, sharing soft, lazy kisses as the rain poured on outside. The windows were fogged and if they tried just the slightest it was as if nothing else in the world existed outside Keith’s bedroom. 

Until they heard shuffling around in the kitchen below.

Keith let out a deep sigh, placing a few more kisses to Lance’s defined collar bone before patting his side solemnly. 

“Hhh, you should probably go now,” he weighed the unfortunate words on his tongue as he spoke. Lance merely groaned in response, snuggling deeper under the mountain of soft blankets where the sting of the outside couldn’t get him. 

“Keith, baby. You can’t possibly make me go out there. You wouldn’t make me ride home in the rain,” Lance begged, holding him and rocking him, like a half-hearted shakedown. Keith huffed, considering his options for a second. 

He peeked his head out of the covers, hair still a mess over his face. It looked so cold out there that his skin prickled just at the thought of it. But then he thought of his mother downstairs, catching them. Each rattle of a closing kitchen draw made his heart pound. It was a tough choice.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna make me ride home. I can’t believe my small, loving, sweet boyfriend is going to send me out like this. I could catch a cold Keith. Do you wanna be the one looking after this snotty-nosed bastard?” Lance persisted almost too loudly and pointed to himself. 

Keith snorted and placed his hand over Lance’s mouth to hush him. He thought about it for a second longer, eyes narrowed to a squint, shifting from the bedroom door to the window. Lance’s eyes remained wide as he awaited Keith’s verdict. 

“Fine,” Keith said after a second. Lance whispered an elated cheer before pulling the both of them back under the blanket pile to cuddle.

Keith didn’t know what his next move was, but while he was laying so comfortably and soundly in Lance’s arms he was sure of one thing. That move was not going to be for many, many minutes. He opened his eyes so that he was just staring blankly at Lance’s chest as the brunet carded a hand through Keith’s knotty hair​​—the pair simply pretending that it wasn’t as such due to Keith sleeping like the dead, and Lance’s fingers totally weren’t getting stuck and tugging on a knot every few strokes. 

Keith was almost completely lulled back to sleep when he heard a knock. 

“Keith, I called you already what are you up to?” His mother’s voice became increasingly clearer as the door opened ajar and without a second to lose he threw the blankets over Lance’s head, holding them tightly up to his chin. He hoped it looked like he was just really cold, and that their entangled bodies just looked like Keith under a mass of about four quilts. 

If Krolia knew anything, she wasn’t letting on; Keith thought he was safe.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Bit hard to get out of bed today. I have to plan my course wisely to get from here to the warm shower with as little time in the antarctic hallway as possible,” Keith explained, trying to appear nonchalant as Lance feathered kisses to anywhere he could reach on Keith’s chest without moving. Krolia nodded inconspicuously. 

“Okay, well, breakfast is on the table, get it while it’s hot,” she told him taking a step back out of the room. She stopped, however, just as she was about to close the door. “Oh, and there is a place set for Lance too,” she eyed Keith smugly, a faint smirk on her lips as she closed the door. 

Keith heard a quiet ‘oh fuck’ from under the covers and, well, yeah. That. 

[malienessan]

This is for @theredquilt who very successfully argumented a win in the GMS Day 1 Bingo, arranged by @goldenlionsilverfox . The request was for something spooky, and this is what my brain came up with.

Link has been hearing things in the walls of the Creative House. But why doesn’t Rhett hear it?

What’s in the wall?

For some time, Link had been hearing something in the walls of the Creative House. Not every time he was there, but often enough to consider it disturbing. He had convinced Rhett to get the exterminator there, thinking it might be mice in the walls. That wasn’t the case, there were no infestations in the house.

But the sounds kept disturbing Link. There was like an insistent scratching in the wall between Link’s office and the Jack-and-Jill leading to the Skyn Wallz room, as if something was trying to make its way out. He hadn’t told Rhett that the exterminator guy was there because of a specific sound, he was afraid that Rhett would think it was his depression that made him hear things.

His depression was, for now, under control, Link felt happy and content with his life. And happy people didn’t hear things in the walls, right?

And yet, Link did.

When he and Rhett decided to spend a weekend at the Creative House, Link decided that he would simply shut the sound out of his head.

The wives were taking the kids to North Carolina for a long weekend, Thursday to Sunday, and the guys thought it would be a great opportunity to get the creative juices flowing.

Thursday evening, everything was ok. No strange scratching sound, not even once. They churned out the outline for a pilot, getting all sorts of great ideas, working until the middle of the night and then slept in their separate beds in their separate offices.

Friday night, however, was not so peaceful. The sound had started early, when the sun came up. First just a little, like a cricket crawling along a wall. But as the day progressed, the sound grew in intensity, it sounded like a mouse, a rat, a raccoon and when nightfall came, Link couldn’t even be in his office. It sounded like someone was clawing their way out of the wall, slowly, undoubtedly. And if Link put his head to the wall, which he only dared to do once, he could feel the vibrations of the wall being shredded to pieces.

It was then that he broke down, went to get Rhett and told him all about what he had been hearing. It only confirmed what he had been afraid of.

“Link, there’s no sound, I swear.” Rhett looked at him with concern. “Nothing at all. Can you hear it now?”

Well yeah, it sounded so loud that it almost drowned out Rhett’s voice. Link only nodded, almost crying.

“Look. You can sleep in my room tonight, we’ll drag your bed there, and tomorrow we’ll call your doctor, see if you need to check your meds or whatever.” In an unusual physical display of affection, Rhett put his arms around Link, letting the shorter man rest his head against a strong shoulder. They would get through this.

Said and done, they made room for Link’s bed in Rhett’s office and somehow managed to make it feel like a sleepover, something they hadn’t done in too many years. They closed every door they could, to try and shut out the scratching, and almost succeeded. If Link put a pillow over his head, he could barely hear it.

***

In the middle of the night, Link woke with a start. His heart was beating heavily, he was certain something had scared him awake. He listened for the sound, it couldn’t be heard. And neither could he hear the faint sounds of Rhett sleeping, which frightened Link a lot more than the scratching noise. Where was he?

He was just about to get out of bed and go looking for Rhett when he saw him coming through the door. He shut it behind him and turned towards Link, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

“Link? Why are you up?”

“I think I had a bad dream. It’s alright, got a little worried when I couldn’t hear you breathe.”

“Oh, Link. Here, let me help you relax.”

Without asking, Rhett sat down on the bed behind Link and started rubbing his shoulders. Link thought about asking what he was doing, but it felt so good that he just let it happen. Those big, strong hands, working on Link’s tense muscles. It was… wonderful, was the word he searched for. His head lolled forward, letting Rhett work him over, trying to suppress the small moans he felt build in his chest.

“Link… relax, let me take care of you…” Link felt Rhett’s breath against his neck and then the slight scratch of his beard.

“Rhett, what are you doing?” Link made as to move away but was held in place by Rhett’s firm grip.

“Link, bo, just let me do this, please?” He ended by kissing that sensitive spot at the back of Link’s neck, making Link shiver all over. “It’s been too long, we should have done this a long, long time ago.”

Rhett placed kisses over Link’s neck, letting his big hands slide down Link’s back, giving comfort and lighting small fires in the pit of Link’s belly. Soon, one snaked around Link’s midriff, almost tickling, but never wavering, until it had grasped Link’s hard dick through the pajama pants.

“Aah… oh, Rhett, are you sure?”

“Mmhmm, I sure am.” Rhett smiled against Link’s neck. With assertive movements, he let his hand slide under the hem of the pants, grabbing hold of the long, smooth dick, letting his thumb slide through the beads of precum coming from the slit. Link shuddered.

“Rhheeeettt…” He couldn’t stop the moan but felt desperate, was he gonna cum in his best friends’ hand without even kissing him? Link twisted in Rhett’s arms, trying desperately to turn around and finally, he could look his friend in the eye and kiss him. It was… better than Link could ever have imagined. Rhett’s soft lips, the scratching of his beard against Link’s chin, his tongue licking its way into Link’s mouth.

Rhett smiled at him, taking a new grip of the still hard cock and with a few smooth moves, brought Link to the edge.

“Will you cum for me, bo? Then you can sleep again.”

Link tried to object, wouldn’t Rhett want anything in return? But he only shook his head, they could do that tomorrow, or any day after that. This was how it was now.

Rhett kissed Link, jerking his wet dick just right and with a moan, Link came, so hard it made the world spin. He was vaguely aware of how Rhett put him back in bed, and pulled the quilt over him, and then Link slept.

The next morning, Link woke up, feeling happy and content. He was a little sticky, in the nether region, and figured he would get up and have a shower. He could hear Rhett in the shower and decided to traipse over to his own office. When he got there, he stared in shock. There was a big hole in the wall, as if something had burst through. He fled, running in panic back to Rhett’s office, yelling for his best friend.

He couldn’t hear the shower anymore and when he looked through the door to the bathroom, it was empty, no signs whatsoever of anyone having a shower. He ran back and then he heard Rhett calling to him from the living room.

“Link? Link! What’s wrong?” As Link rushed there, he was met with the sight of a newly woken Rhett on their living room couch. “Are you alright?”

Link stared at him.

“Ah, yeah…? What are you doing here?”

“Well, you talked in your sleep, so loud that I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t wake you. I decided to sleep here instead.”

“But… But what about last night, what we…?”

Rhett looked at him, confusion evident on his face. “Last night? We what?”

Link just turned around, running back to his room, looking at the broken wall again. He was crazy, he must be. He must have gotten out of bed that night, busted the wall somehow and then dreamt the whole episode about Rhett. It was time to call the doctor. Defeated, he got a towel from the dresser and went to take a shower.

As he stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the shower, he thought he saw movement behind him. The shower curtain moved. Link thought he would faint when it was pulled to the side and Rhett stepped out. But it wasn’t really Rhett. It had eyes that gleamed at him.

“Hey Link. Thanks for letting me out of the wall.” When the thing smiled at him, Link started to pass out. He could vaguely hear Rhett calling out for him, the real Rhett, as the thing in the mirror turned its head towards the bathroom door, a grin on its face.

[heresathreebee]

Morning Of and After

SMILF Jesse X Female Reader

Summary: You meet Jesse in a bar and take him home. Masterlist

Word count: 3.3k words

Warning(s): +17 | swearing, drunk sex, porn with(out) plot (?), p in v sex, from behind, morning angst, mutual masterbation

AN: bitch I watched a 30 second clip of a tv show JUST to see an underdressed Alex Brightman. What has my life come to. Ah well, I'm gonna enjoy it while I can. Blame these lovely, inspiring fools @hoodoo12 @go-commander-kim @escape-your-grape

Jesse's not sure why you were hanging off of him at the bar but he's basking in your attention now. You didn't hesitate to give the cabbie your address, arm permanently looped around his shoulders for balance. You had both been drinking– exactly how much was a mystery– and Jesse was eager for a breakthrough in his dry spell. 

Your lips are wet and on each other as he kicks your door closed. Pulling your clothes from your body proves a little difficult, especially with you wrestling to take off his. He catches a case of the giggles when you get his head stuck in his shirt but the laughter quickly turns into a moan when he feels you slip a hand into his underwear to fondle his junk. He remembers gripping your wrist like iron and ripping his shirt from his face. He gives you a gentle push backwards, right onto the edge of your bed (he didn't know that was there but he would have been happy to take you on the floor too). 

Your top is misaligned but far from off, however you are bare from the waist down and wrap your legs around his hips to pull him towards you. Jesse's just as desperate and he slips his pants down midthigh, then stops to rummage in his pocket for a condom. He has to bat your grabby little hands away or he won't last. It's a little hard to see through the haze of lust and alcohol but he manages, and then he's pressing you into the mattress leaning on an elbow and sliding his fingers through your slick folds. 

He groans and plants a kiss on your mouth. "Fuck you're wet..." 

The man wastes no time and hooks two fingers inside you, eager to stretch you out and make you come now because you're fucking gorgeous and it's driving him to the edge without any stimulation. 

You mewl beneath him, nails scratching his scalp and chest heaving as if begging for his attention. Jesse's mouth waters heavily as he sloppily licks and sucks at your breasts, pushing your top aside and just nipping at the lace bra still intact. He has no idea how high you are until your inner walls contract around his fingers so hard he worries they might break. And with a practiced motion, he eases you down from your orgasm, fingers slowing down until he slips them out. 

And just for the hell of it, he flicks your clit and feels you jump beneath him. Suddenly your teeth are digging into his neck and he howls. 

"Fuck me already," you growl. 

You spread your legs wider to fit his hips to the center and drag him into another rough kiss. Jesse has some trouble maneuvering with his pants half on, but he catches the head on your lip and pushes in groaning at the familiar feeling of being engulfed. Bottoming out inside you sends an electric tingling sensation down his spine and he has to stop for a moment and catch his breath. 

He feels your feet sliding up his thighs, one foot still in a heel which catches on his waistband. His hips give a test rock and you moan against his collarbone, legs twitching at his sides. 

Jesse sets a subtle pace, rocking into your heat and drooling a little. You feel so fucking good underneath him, so right, like eating apple pie on the Fourth of July. His balls start to tighten and he almost lets go, but the feeling of your pussy twitching draws his attention to your face. You're close to coming again but not anywhere near where he is. The sloppy drunk part of him wants to just keep going and finish but the real Jesse wants this to be good for you too and what's a little second orgasm between drunk strangers? 

He pulls out and despite your immediate protests, you quickly become curious when Jesse's hands push and pull on you as if trying to move you. 

"What are you doing?" 

His chin has a small glisten and his eyes are so watery. There are hickeys forming on his neck and a scratch or two rising on his shoulder. The hairy expanse of his chest is turning red from friction and he looks as unreal as a dream until he says, "turn over." 

Your legs twitch and you definitely soak the quilt on your bed. Did you hear him right? This guy? Soft, pretty boy who was just a second ago gently rocking your world? 

He licks his lips and says, "turn around. I wanna do it the other way. On your knees." 

Fuck. Well you're definitely shaking with excitement as you fulfill his command. You finally manage to slip your top off and fling it into the abyss off the bed. You wiggle your hips into the requested position and shiver as a warm hand slides up your spine. Another warm hand locks around your hip and you feel him enter you with no resistance. The rough material of his jeans scratches at your thighs as he begins to thrust, longer strokes that leave you empty and full, empty and full again. You quickly slide off of your elbows and press your face into the blanket, loving the way he seems to lose himself again inside you. 

God, does he even know he's moaning right now? It's so hot, somehow hotter than him driving his cock deep inside you. The slapping sound of his hips against your ass sendings endorphins straight to your head. After Jesse breathes another 'fuck,' you slither a hand underneath your body to circle your clit. The first touch of your fingers to your sticky little button causes you to tighten around Jesse's cock and you hear him choke. He leans over your back and settles a hand on the bed to proper himself up, changing the angle of his thrusts and hitting some spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. 

"Fuck, so good," Jesse mumbles, sweaty forehead pressing against your shoulder. "Mmmm… gonna come…" 

Fuck that's exactly what you needed to hear. Your whole body turns tuat like a bow string and your walls constrict into a vice. Your legs quiver from the strong shocks of your orgasm, forcing a long, broken moan to escape your chest and black to creep into your vision. 

Your orgasm is the end of your partner. Jesse's hips stutter to a stop as he fills up the condom, unable to breath for a few seconds as he forgets his name, his location, and his sense of self and all there is left is you. Eventually Jesse's soul slams back into his body and he collapses his full weight on top of you unintentionally crushing you. He feels you laughing and at the urge of an elbow in his ribs, he rolls over and off of you. You're still giggling, boneless and satisfied as you try to catch your breath. 

You turn your head towards him to look over his blissful features. His skin glistens in the half light and he's probably seconds from falling asleep. You put a hand out on his chest and shake him awake despite yourself, knowing you need to clean up. 

"Up," you command. 

Jesse shifts off of the bed sluggishly, disposing of the condom in the bin by your desk and grabbing the waistband of his jeans like he's not sure what to do with them. You reach out mischievously and slap his ass causing him to yelp and look back at you in disbelief. 

"Take those off and get back here." You fling the quilt of your bed off and curl under the topsheet with a hand out to him. 

Jesse looks confused. He moves slowly, crawling back in naked and incapable of meeting your eyes. You place a guiding hand to help him lay his head on your silk encased pillow. "Stay," you command, and dip into the bathroom to clean up. 

Jesse lies awake but not for long, his body thumps with the beat of his heart and it lulls him to sleep. He's snoring softly when you come back and flip the lights off. 

~

Jesse's head is pounding in the morning, but he's had it worse. Like way worse. The bedroom curtains are drawn but the sun is direct and the light reflects off the walls a little too strongly for his liking. You look pretty in nothing but sheets and it's turning him on a little bit. 

What the fuck was a girl like you doing with a guy like him anyways, he wondered, over his skinnier and better looking friends? And then he wondered, how much did you have to drink last night? It unnerves him that he doesn't know the answer. You left the bar together but you didn't walk in together, who knows how many jager bombs or tequila shots you had before you met him? 

Jesse's really hyped himself up now, his hands are getting clammy and he's about to start fidgeting if he doesn't figure something out soon. When you wake up will you remember him? Did you know his name like he knew yours? Would you throw him out in disgust? Maybe you were the type who took them home because you knew they'd be gone at first light. Maybe you liked it that way. 

Jesse takes a deep breath to steel himself. He's intent on thinking things through until… until he realizes it took 10 minutes. From the time you entered the apartment to the time he came, it took 10 minutes. Oh god… that is the nail in the coffin for him. 

He slides out of bed as quietly as possible. His face is hot and his hands are cold as he slips into his underwear, then his pants. He lets his feet carry him out of the bedroom and into the hallway where he finds his shirt, and he gets distracted looking at your soaked lace underwear as he reaches for the keys by the door. 

You actually live really close to his work, which is where he left his car last night. If he can just get some distance maybe he can think better. He could probably use a tylenol more than anything right now. 

Jesse's waiting for a light to change at a crosswalk when he realizes these are not his keys. All regrets about leaving his phone number on a paper somewhere at your place go out the window when he realizes he doesn't have his phone either. 

"Fuck," he mutters in defeat.  

Returning back to your apartment is the real walk of shame. He hopes someone will stop him, ask him if he lives around here or something so he can chicken out and maybe get a friend to get his stuff back. The cute like trinkets hanging off your car keys do give him some interesting insight into the things you like. 

He can't remember if he left the door unlocked and celebrates when he doesn't have to knock and wake you up. He probably should have clued in when he heard the sound of a sink turning off, but he's actually more hungover than he thought. He fully freezes like a deer in headlights when you appear with a towel on your head and fresh lounging clothes. 

The look you give him should have turned him to stone. "Hey Jesse. Forget something?" 

He opens his mouth and nothing but a weak "heeeeyyy," escapes. His mouth flaps like a fish and he suddenly remembers to put your keys back from where he found them. Busted. "I ee I was just going out to grab some coffee… and like a tylenol… but guess I grabbed the wrong keys, hahah..." 

The twist of your mouth is a little cruel. You let the towel rest on your shoulders and toss him his keys from the kitchen counter, warm hand lingering over his heart in an affectionate but threatening way. "Coffee sounds good. There's a shop a mile that way, honest to god espresso and cheaper prices than the usual dig. I'm sure I've got a bottle of tylenol somewhere around here, I should find it by the time you come back." 

Oh...K? Are you… planning something? Should he fear for his safety? Apologize? Not knowing what else to do (and distracted by the feeling of you caressing his chest), Jesse simply nods and turns to obey you. Only at the door does he turn back and gesture with his key hand, "you uh, haven't seen my phone, have you?" 

You're smiling. You've got no bra on beneath your baseball tee, hair soaking your shoulders, and tiny tiny shorts with pockets– a pocket carrying what he clearly recognizes as his phone– and you're smiling. 

"I like my coffee strong. Just tell them my name, they'll know what to make." Jesse doesn't know what else to do except sputter and leave. 

~

It would have been a short walk but it's an even shorter drive. Jesse stands in line assessing the menu with his hands in his pockets. You were mad at him. 

Ok, that was fair. 

You were upset that he left you without a goodbye and had stupidly forgotten his things and had to come crawling back. So you weren't that kind of person. He knows that now. But you also weren't screaming at him or begging him to stick around. 

Jesse didn't know what to think of your reaction. But you knew his name. He told you his name in the cab and if you remembered it's because you weren't blackout drunk. That's good for both of you. You didn't seem too hungover either, maybe you'd had less to drink than he did or at least the same. This is good, these were good things. 

It didn't make going back to your place less terrifying though. 

~

You left the front door cracked and Jesse pushed his way in with a cup in each hand. "Boy, they sure do like you down at that coffee shop! Extra this and extra that. I'd kill to have a place like me like that." 

You seem… calmer now. The tension in your movement is gone and you peck his lips with a kiss as you take your coffee. You reach around him to shut the door and walk to the couch expecting him to follow (and of course like a dog on a leash, he did). You passed him a tylenol and took a few yourself, washing them down with your drink before leaning back with your arm over your eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Jesse blurts out. You peak at him from under your arm. "I… I didn't know if you wanted to see me when you woke up so I…" 

You snort. "Jesse, honey. If I didn't like you, you would have never made it to my room. Not even close. And if I didn't want to see you in the morning–" 

You sat up and pressed yourself almost into his lap– "I would have fucked you at the club." 

Now is not the time for a boner, this was a serious conversation. In any case, you eased up on your dominating stance and fell into his side like you belonged there. It felt nice. You smelled like fresh laundry and peaches (definitely your body wash or something), and weren't mad at him anymore. In fact you passed his phone to him and settled back. Jesse wrapped an arm around you and rested his cheek on your head. He had almost drifted back to sleep when his text tone dinged. 

MASON: Where the fuck are you? 

Jesse sighed. You knew exactly what that sound meant and became determined not to let him go without a fight, but Jesse stopped you from climbing into his lap very firmly, by flipping you onto your back and holding you down. He can't help but blush, his ears turning red as he glares at you. 

"I have. To go," he scolds. "My buddy Mason's got this project he needs help with and I promised I'd be there to help him move his stuff." 

You whine, grabbing his wrists and sliding his hands up to cover your breasts. "Can't it wait a little longer? We can be fast." 

Jesse's brain short circuits and his hands inadvertently flex. "What?" 

He knows your nipples are hard because he can feel them, and you're looking at him in that way that makes his pants tighter. You don't have to say it but when you do, he falls hook line and sinker. "Come on, babe. Round 2? Before you go?" 

How could he say no to that?

Jesse kisses you roughly. His hands squeeze your tits before he plants one to hold himself up and the other to draw you closer so he can grind his hips into yours. You gasp, pulling at his hair and then fumbling with his pants for a second just as you change your mind. Jesse protests as you push him backwards, then he stares as you slide those tiny shorts off. He goes right to circling your clit with his thumb and takes a long look at the dark spot on your new panties. 

"So easy to get you wet," he praises, swiping his thumb down over the wet patch before returning to his pronounced circular motions. 

You let him toy with you, feet resting on his shoulders until you remember your little game. you gently kick his hand away and replace it with your own, sliding the fabric aside and making him watch two of your fingers glide deep inside you. Jesse groans, intent to help out but you stop him. 

"Just me," you gasp. "Just you." 

Jesse seems momentarily confused. Then you see it click in his head and he scrambles to take his cock out, already fully erect and dark in color. He starts to stroke himself, eyes bouncing around your form and drinking in the sight of your self administered pleasure. His eyes roll back at the squelching sound filling the space between you, continuing to stroke himself with a dry rasp. 

Jesse calls your name and grasps your wrist. His tongue swirls around your fingers hungrily to suck the slick from them, groaning as he does. It's a moment's distraction as his own fings dip into your wet heat and come out coated in more. He replaces his soaked hand on his cock and strokes with renewed vigor. 

"God," he hums. It feels so good, watching you watch him is turning him on way more than he thought it would. He's getting close to coming at the thought of painting your stomach when his phone starts ringing. 

He grows an annoyed glance at the offending device, then does a double take and pounces. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck– hey boss!" 

You looked at him, completely stunned. Jesse pretended not to notice you and listened intently to the voice on his phone, nodding his head absently and to your horror, tucking his cock back into his pants. He doesn't look too happy about it, but he swallows his pride and tells his boss he'll 'be right there.' 

He's already apologizing as he pulls you up from the couch and sets your clothes right. Jesse peppers your sour face in light kisses, rubbing your arms as if to soothe you from a blinding rage. 

"I promise I'll make it up to you," he says donning his jacket. "I don't know when or how but I will I–" 

"Arcade. Thursday. 7 pm." You zip up his jacket and glare at him so he knows there's no room for argument. 

He smiles, "I can't wait," he drops a hearty kiss to your lips. "Thursday, 7 pm. Want me to pick you up?" 

"Only if you plan on staying the night." 

"That's a yes then." Jesse leaves and you cannot wait for Thursday.

[glenncoco4]

You Can Count On Me

A/N: Well, we’ve finally reached the big reveal. Ch. 13

"Aw, thanks, babe." She's having too much fun with this. Leaning down, she connects their lips one more time, twice for good measure.

Julia grabs her best friend's arm, a bright smile crossing her face. "Bertie, it's happening?!"

"Oh, I think it's already happened." She gives the pair a knowing glance, something telling her that this development isn't so new.

The agent pulls back from her fiancé’s lips, a thrill running through her body when she’s met with a smirk, yeah, they’re both enjoying this way too much. Soon the smirks turn into laughter, her forehead finding his chest as they enjoy this moment of stupefaction that their know it all mothers are consumed by. 

“Why are you laughing?” Roberta quizzically looks at the couple whose still laid out in the snow and back to her best friend whose dream filled gaze is no help to her at all. 

Standing up from her straddled position on her partner’s waist, Kensi steps back, reaching for his hand, becoming an anchor for him to get up out of the deep snow. “We know what you two have been doing for the past 20 years.”

Julia nervously bites her lip, her eyes now looking at anything but the accusatory eyes of her daughter and pseudo son. “Whatever do you mean?”

Shaking his head, the younger blonde wraps his arm around his best friend, pulling her into his side. “Fess up or we’re eloping.”

Julia shakes her head, doing a double take as Marty’s words wash over her. “You’re-“

A hopefulness fills the older blonde’s being as she looks to Julia, both trying to not get ahead of themselves. “Wait, what’s going on?”

Pulling off her glove, Kensi reveals her left hand, a certain finger not bare as it was the last time the older women saw it. “We’re engaged.”

“So soon?” Julia elbows her best friend, telling her to stop with the dumb questions. They don’t need to plant any questioning doubt in the kids’ heads and have to start this whole process over again. 

He places a kiss to the top of her head, the chill of the air around them is no match for the scent of lavender that envelopes his nostrils. “We’ve been best friends for over 20 years and dating for 3 months.”

Tilting her head back, the brunette��s mismatched orbs find those cerulean blues that she loves so much. All the emotions swirling in their eyes, conveying everything they feel and love for the other. “We don’t need anymore lost time.”

“I’ve got to tell your father!” The smile that’s plastered to the older brunette’s face is comparable to an excited golden retriever. 

“Oh, about that.” Marty stops his pseudo mother and now soon to be mother-in-law from taking off in a full on sprint to the cabin.

She turns back around, a look of confusion set in her features. Great, Bertie, you already made them change their minds. “What?”

The detective grimaces knowing his fiancée’s not gonna appreciate him keeping something from her. “He may already know.”

Kensi’s hand finds her fiancé’s bicep, swating his arm in surprise that he would keep something like this from her. She’s not really surprised though that her motormouth partner couldn’t keep their news from her dad. “Marty!”

“I didn’t tell him, he just figured it out.” He shrugs, trying to look as innocent as possible.

••••

They feel the two pair of eyes on them constantly. Really they should’ve expected this from the beginning, every once and awhile the pair will share a kiss just to see the two older women’s reactions. At first it was kinda hilarious because whenever Marty’s lips met Kensi’s one or both of their mothers would be right there, squealing in excitement. Now, it’s kinda getting annoying. Not the kissing each other part, no, that will definitely never get old, but their mothers watching their every move…yeah, that’s not fun. 

It’s pretty much expected as they step out of their room on Christmas morning that both Julia and Roberta are right there to greet them in excitement. The thing that catches them off guard though is when presents are being opened and the two have giddy smiles on their faces as they thrust a box towards the partners. 

“Open ours next!” Roberta states as her eyes widen in anticipation. 

“Who’s it for?” Marty asks, brow furrowed in question.

“Both of you!” Julia exclaims enthusiastically bouncing up and down where she sits on the couch, jostling her husband in the process. 

Kensi’s brow furrows as she shares a look with her fiancé. A little bit of dread filling her being, scared to what the box could possible contain. Her mind going into overdrive thinking about a photoshopped picture of what their future child will look like or something worse like a scrapbook of their entire future planned out. “Both?”

“Just open it.” Umberto finally makes himself known, thankful that after today he won’t have to hear about this secret gift for the rest of his life. 

Slowly they each take a side, freeing the lid from the box, revealing a patterned quilt of some sort. “A blanket?”

“It’s a baby making blanket.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Unperturbed by her pseudo daughter’s look of confused shock, Roberta feels the need to further explain. “We read that if you were to create a quilt and shove it full of the couple’s baby clothes then it would bring you good luck when trying to conceive.”

“But you two didn’t even know we were together until a few days ago.” The detective states.

A knowing smile crosses Donald’s face. “Oh, we knew it was going to happen eventually.”

“How were you so sure?” The agent looks to her father but can feel the rest of the adults’ knowing eyes on her. 

“Lets see, there was Marty’s prom-“ The former marine states.

“And then Kensi’s.” Roberta’s fiancé finishes. 

Marty shakes his head in confusion at the swarthy man’s interjection. “Umberto, you weren’t even there.”

“Ah, but I saw the pictures, papi.” A grin curls at the corner off his lips as he leans back against the chair. 

Julia nods in agreement when she remembers a key piece of information that no one’s talked about since the day it happened. “Then there was the fact that Marty got drunk and cried in your father’s arms when you and Jack got engaged.”

The young blonde feels his body run cold. Not because of his supposed confession but the actions that might have followed. He’s not surprised that he showed up to talk to the man he’s always seen as a father, its just the not remembering part that has him confused. “I-I did?”

“Yeah, you were pretty wasted that night, son.” The marine interjects. 

“Huh, so that’s why I woke up in your old room that morning.”

“Yep. I was about to head to bed when I heard sobbing from the room. Opened the door and there you were…wearing one of her dresses, clutching a picture of you two and crying.” 

“Wait, what?!”

Donald bites back a laugh as the blush rises to Marty’s cheeks. “I’m just messing with you. No, you showed up at the front door and we talked, you told me that you always thought that you’d be the one proposing to her. I was trying to take you to your old room when you stumbled into Kensi’s and face-planted on the bed.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Roberta exclaims. “One night when I was on Kensi duty after asshat left and she may have gotten into the wine…anyway, about 2 bottles later while we were watching Titanic for the 100th time, she said she felt like she was Rose and Marty was Jack, they were destined to be together but life had other plans.”

Kensi’s jaw drops in shock as she turns to her fiancé and then back to her soon to be mother-in-law. “I-I said that?”

“Yeah, and then you passed out, started doing that snort snore that always brings a smile to his face.”

Shaking her head in denial, she couldn’t’ve possible told anyone. “No, I-I never-“

“Believe me, I was just as shocked as you are now. I mean I had always hoped you two would quit beating around the damn bush.“

Marty’s eyes find his fiancée’s as they share a look of confusion and awe. His lips find hers as the new realizations wash over them. Everything makes sense now. Why after her engagement to Jack their parents started pushing them more, making these tiny decisions that would leave the pair alone…saying these little things that would stay in the back of their minds. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She places another kiss to his lips before he pulls them back against the couch, proudly throwing the blanket over their bodies. 

The former marine huffs a laugh, shaking his head. He honestly doesn’t know how these kids were so blind considering everything they’ve been through over the years. “You two really had no idea, did you.”

••••

It took a little over a week, but the childhood best friends are finally left alone on their own accord as their parents head out to the village for a New Year’s Eve party. To say he’s been dreaming about this for forever would be a bit of an understatement. There’s just something just so special about this place and what it means to them, frankly every time they make love is special, but this cabin during their favorite time of year…its the fantasy of all fantasies for him. 

Now here they are, sitting in front of the roaring fire with a pile of marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers at their disposal. More so Kensi’s than his. He’s content just watching her, watching her devour her favorite camping treat as the snow falls outside and she sends him a chocolatey grin. He is one lucky bastard.  

His eyes follow her as she takes a final bite of her most recent s’more. There’s more chocolate on her fingers than there is on her lips, which makes it an easy decision for him as he grabs hold of her hand, his eyes fixated on her finger as he brings it towards his lips.

Her breath catches as he looks up from under his eyelashes and envelops her coated finger with his mouth. If she weren’t already sitting down, she’d be laid out on the floor as her legs turn to jelly. The moan that escapes her lips is one that often leaves her when her best friend’s involved. 

He can’t take it much longer before his lips are on hers, and he’s leaning forward, bringing them both to the ground as a moan escapes his lip. “Mmm. You have no idea how longs I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“Sophomore year of high school.”

“Okay, so maybe you do know.” His lips continue their ministrations against the base of her neck, earning him a glorious moan. 

“Marty?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Stop talking.”

He pulls back from his onslaught of kisses, his eyes finding hers. “If I had a dollar-“

Shaking her head, the brunette leans up and nips playfully at his bottom lip. “What did I just say?”

“Oooh, is Mistress Kensi getting angry? She gonna spank me?”

“Alright, maybe I’ll just go finish myself in a warm bath.” She goes to push him off of her but he begins to envelope her entire body with his. 

“No! No! No! Shutting up! Shutting up!”

“That’s what I thought.” Her fingers thread through his golden locks as their eyes darken with an intensity that neither of them has ever known. “Now make love to me dammit.”

A little while later as they lay sated, wrapped up in their baby making blanket in front of the fire, she hums in contentment. “I still can’t get over it.” 

“I know, I’m pretty fantastic.”

She playfully nips at his ear earning her a moan. “I’m talking about how everyone but us knew that we were crazy about each other.”

He turns his head, their lips but a breath apart. “Oh, we knew. It just took a little liquid courage for our subconscious minds to realize it. And then obviously running into each other after being apart without contact in months for the first time in our lives gave us the little push we needed. Not to mention our over baring mothers continuously planting these little seeds in our head probably helped too.”

“I’m glad we finally came to our senses.”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t go skinny dipping with me in the hot tub.” She places a quick kiss to his lips before hopping up and walking towards the back deck.

His eyes go wide in excitement as he follows her lead and chases after her. “Oooh, we can make our own bubbles.”

The agent abruptly stops at his words, spinning around with a look of disgust. “Ew.”

He winces, shaking his head. Way to ruing the moment, Marty. “Yeah, I heard it.”

[roguestarsailor]

You know what since we’re still in quarantine and i have nothing else better to do, i need to obsess over ACOTAR. I don't like a court of frost and starlight. For the longest time I couldn't figure out why I didn't like it. I aggressively read the book in maybe a day and I closed it feeling frustrated and annoyed. My version had A Court of Silver Flames preview so that definitely contributed to my annoyance greatly.

It's because it felt too perfect. Everything that had happened -- after the entire war was fought and won, they just go back to their normal lives? Yes there were hiccups and yes there were still aspects that made every IC character feel like their problems aren’t solved yet...but it didnt feel right. yes i enjoyed the snowball fight between the bat boys, feyre + rhys sexy time, and those little comfort moments too, the slice of life type things and seeing feyre accomplishing her goals and how hopeful the future seems BUT its too fast. the good parts of the book did not offset the bad parts of it.

Feyre literally accomplished pretty much every single goal she made back in ACOMAF just like that?? within a span of what a few months? a year?? She really came back from an entire war -- probably the first war of many since she's immortal and just like that, after her 21st birthday: she gets a whole entire estate, wants to start poppin babies, opens her art studio and starts teaching kids and then acting like she can rule an entire court?? the timeline is sooo short esp since its been brought up over and over again how everyone is literally 500 years old and have a super “messy” history and their changes seems to come super dupe slowly. but feyre, who has only lived 0.000000002% of her fae life, is out here thriving just fine???

the war devastated thousands of illyrian soldiers where its changing the politics of the illyrains and the faes, all of whom feyre has responsibilities over too as high lady. the mortal queens are still at large who left the humans on prythian to die which is why feyre was willing to go to war in the first place! what about the rest of hybern and their land and residents?? they wanted to enslave humans for social and economical reasons! then what about integrating humans w deep hatred and fear with deeply prejudice fae??? there’s also spring and summer court who are literally in ruins. thats literally so much. so idk how feyre is just chillin???? she gonna let rhys do all the hard work???

like feyre sit down. u should not be having a baby. esp since it took u literally a 700 pages to heal from those 3 months UTM. ur telling me shes gonna whole heartedly bring in a newborn in a war devastated world, with civil unrest (illyrains, other courts), with the messiness of human and fae integration, with trauma u and rhys will have to continue to overcome esp after THIS war??? even helping ur sisters w their traumas??

this is a personal opinion on this subject (and maybe my thoughts will change on this later on; opened to other thoughts) but when i read the part about how that weaver/seamstress artist who made that dark quilt that feyre loved talked about how her mate of 300 years didn’t come back from the war and her biggest regret was that she didnt have a kid to remember him by i just thought ur kid isn’t some sort of memorabilia. don’t have a kid to keep the memory of ur mate alive; have a kid cuz u want a kid purely for the sake of having a kid. ur memories and photos and shit will keep their memory alive but its not having a kid. some primitive need to keep the genes alive maybe?? but the way it was phrased and then in turn how feyre was like oh i need  a baby pronto cuz rhys might die in the next war and regret not having a kid with him didn’t sit right with me. also the other couple were together for +300 years and have a rich life together, while shes been with rhys for literally two years THATS NOTHING IN FAE YEARS. thats still the honeymoon phase and also ur problems arent even close to being over!!!

everyone was shitty to nesta. in ACOMAF, we saw how much the IC went through and still did all they could to help feyre. what made them not think nesta deserve the same welcome? nesta is mean as a defense but did no one try to figure out what would help (amren got close but shes so under developed)??? feyre knows nesta feels too much and yet she continued to be shitty. continued to flaunt her wealth, her status, her familiarity/borderline know-it-all attitude about fae/night court, her ~estate~. forcing nest to the solstice party when nesta was literally like i dont belong, im looking at everyone through a window type of thing; the fire cracking triggering her, etc. what kind of power play was that when she made nesta come to her estate, where nesta could SEE how ~homey~ and how suscessful feyre is and fully see all the lovely paintings of everyone feyre loves that explicitly exclude her to tell her to fuck off to a war camp?? bro???? cas was a dick too and elaine was rude. i think a lot of his actions were meant to make her angry since anger keeps u fighting (as was the method of rhys for feyre in ACOMAF) but what he said was stupidly shitty and i demand that he apologize properly. elaine could have done more to help her sister but whatever. mor was definitely an ass too (and im upset for how little her character growth is). 

Lucein. that man can’t catch a break tbh. im happy that hes w the band of exiles cuz he is whole heartedly accepted there. feyre was definitely an asshole to him even tho he helped as much as he could throughout the books. he tries so hard w elaine as well and it did hit my heart a bit when she was like gloves to work in my garden?? no ?? i use my bare hands see oNly aZiReL sEeS mE fOr WhO i Am. and at the same feyre is like flaunting her mate status to lucein which is mean as shit. its like this man can’t find love in prythain. then tamlin sending him his box of his things??? thats for sure brutral. tam was literally his partner through it all; savior of sorts even. no love from IC, no love from elaine, no love from feyre, no love from tamlin, no love from autumn court rejected everywhere! also HIS TRUE FATHER?? HEllo??? 

then on tamlin. i pity the guy! was i suppose to feel that way??? it felt like he is allowed to get a redemption arc and maybe i’ll even root for a redemption arc??? i was absolutely excited for freysand in ACOMAF but after ACOFAS, im like tamlin is....not completely bad??? his relationship w feyre was bad and the controlling parts were very much a no-no. i dont truly understand the dynamics of an abusive relationship but i can understand that it can be insidious and its the little things that hurt the victim. and i felt  feyre through ACOMAF and rooted for her to escape her abuser! but then it felt like i dont think he was doing any of those things out of malice. ill say tamlin is a bad leader and doesn’t know how to run a court outside of what he sees his father do. his understanding on everything is based on the traditions of the past which i think fueled most of the things he did i.e. not telling feyre she was in danger since maybe his mom didn’t do those war planning things. ACOTAR showed how he truly cared/loved and took good care of feyre and her family. he even talked about how he didn’t believe in the enslavement of humans! i think that tam wanted to preserve what he thought was the good (aka feyre + her love of painting) and get back a sense of control that he and his entire court lost while chained to amarantha. but at the same time, i think he truly thought feyre wasn’t safe. he knows rhys can crush minds and knows feyre can’t read/write so when he got that letter telling him shes safe of course hes gonna flip shit and made a deal w the devil (although those temper outbursts were DEFINITIVELY not ok!!!). he also didn’t listen and has sense of he knows best when feyre was not the type of person. but feyre destroyed his entire court. he lost all his sentries who literally went out to die for him during amarantha’s reign. he lost lucien too; his trusted right hand man. his people were cursed for 50 years and then continued to suffer UTM and was in the process of rebuilding too!  but just seeing spring court, WHO BORDERS THE HUMANS, be in ruins where his subjects left him, his people left him and hes all alone in the manson?? that was sooo sad. so im like why does what feyre did not feel satisfactory????? im mad that it didn’t feel right??? maybe there wasn’t a point where feyre talked to tamlin -- like really talked to him esp w her new found voice and power, etc. anyways, i dont hate tamlin and was like oh shit i think feyre fucked up a bit there.

rhys is a dick to nesta. which made me think, if feyre wasn’t his mate would he extend the same love and care to her???  i loved how he tried so hard to make sure feyre was ok. made sure she wasn’t breaking! all of it! but for nesta, he had the audacity to use his high lord voice and be an ass overall. even tho he can see how cas is fucken in love??? even just how he talks to cass feels off too. 

i’ll even go as far as to say because of how terrible ACOFAS was, it created this intense divide within the fandom. i remember reading the first three books and was absolutely 1) rooting for freysand  2) curious about the sister relationship and how it will be mended 3) i definitely didn’t hate nesta nor did i hate elaine either -- but i was adament about them talking it out with feyre for those tough times 4) saw a more realistic and charming healing arc 5) was rooting for feyre to be a stronger voice and grow into herself 6) love the dynamic of the inner circle + feyre

but after ACOFAS, I have this intense need to defend nesta and was super mad at how she was treated after the war and in turn a deep dislike for elaine for both her lack of agency, lack of grit that made all the other characters interesting, and lack of care for her sisters (who showed how much they would risk for her). i dont hate rhys but i was extremely not happy with him and his attitude and behavior. feyre became more arrogant and was acting like how asshole rhysand would act. like her life is perfect now and i was not rooting for her anymore. freysand didn’t feel like they have complimenting qualities that made them interesting in the first place but rather they are merging to become the same person but in a bad way. that mind reading thing was cute in the beginning but it became insufferable since all thoughts were shared so seamlessly it made reading feel weird. 

anyways those are my thoughts on ACOFAS. it was a 1/5 stars for me and im mad those events transpired. reading the other books made me excited to know what was gonna happen and i was truly ready to accept the characters as flawed and nuanced as they are. im not mad about character not liking each other but i am mad that everything felt off. ACOFAS just felt regressive in some parts and forced in other parts. i know not everything ends in a nice tied up bow but this book single handily ruined what i thought about these characters in the worse way possible. this book wasn’t suppose to wrap up all the problems that exists in the other books but it didn’t feel hopeful like i thought it would. it didn’t feel wrapped up and didn’t feel like i should be excited about the next books. theres so many missing pieces i feel that i think need explaining and at the same time, i think it introduced too many problems at once which made it feel like its jumping around everywhere. although im still excited for ACOSF because i love nesta, and nesta deserves so much better and i want to have hope that this bad ending will either make sense later on or it was just a blimp.

[winchesters-favorite-girl]

Flatline-Part Eleven

A/N: Jensen and his sixteen year old daughter get into an argument before she goes out for a night with some friends. A few hours later, Jensen gets a call that is going to change his family’s life forever.

Word Count: 1,727

Warnings: Hospital setting, tiny bit of angst

Masterpost

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Two Months Later

Small beads of sweat were dripping down your face as you gripped onto the two bars on either side of you. With shaking arms you tried to get a better hold on them before attempting to slowly trudge your right foot forward. Your right foot had moved a few inches before it became too much and you started to fall forward but your physical therapist, Robert, grabbed onto you.

“I got ya, don’t worry.” He spoke calmly to you, “You can relax.” Your body melted into him but you felt your anger begin to build.

“You did great kiddo.” Your dad said from his spot next to you and you had to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down so you didn’t go off on him.

“If I was doing so great I’d be able to stand for more than 15 seconds without falling or I don’t know, be able to take a few steps. Even Zep and Arrow can walk and they’re toddlers.” You gritted out.

“God I love how positive you are.” Robert replied as he helped you regain your composure holding onto the bars, “Your siblings are toddlers but they weren’t in a major accident where parts of their bone structure had to be remade and now have to regain the strength to walk again. Oh did I mention that your siblings weren’t told by doctors that they likely wouldn’t be able to walk again?”

You turned your head and glared at Robert, “Someone is sassy today.”

“Looks like someone brought a whole lotta attitude into my gym today.” He spoke back, never breaking eye contact with you.

This was something you loved and hated about Robert, he called you out on your crap and didn’t let you get away with it. He didn’t let you throw yourself a pity party and expected a lot out of you. He pushed you and pissed you off, but his methods were effective and you were already further in your recovery then expected. 

“Try again sweetheart.” Jensen told you from his spot.

“I don’t-I don’t think I can.” You responded with a shaky tone, your body was screaming at you to stop but your mind wanted to keep trying.

“Yes you can, you got this babe.” Your dad spoke but you shook your head.

“You okay kid? Need a break?” Robert asked, recognizing your shift in attitude.

“I’m okay, just-I think I need a minute.” You told him.

“Nothing wrong with that, okay? You’ve pushed it a lot today and already made huge improvements.” Robert said, helping you move backwards and safely into a chair.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Jensen asked, coming to squat down next to you.

Robert handed you your water bottle which you took with a grateful smile, “Nothing,” You replied honestly before taking a sip of your water, “My body was telling me I needed to stop so I listened to it. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right?” You asked, thinking back to when you first started PT and pushed too hard one day which resulted in you passing out, which effectively terrified your father. 

“Right.” Jensen replied with a tight smile.

“What’s that look for?” Robert asked, calling out your father for his odd behavior.

Jensen shook his head, “Nothing. Just happy seeing my girl getting better.” 

You took another sip of your water bottle but continued to look at your dad with a confused look.

“Oookay then,” Robert replied, “Well Y/N is doing great, she’s kicking ass, ahead of my schedule for her and I honestly think in the next month or so we’ll see her slowly and carefully on her feet. Keep working hard kid and with Dad here cheering you on I think in the next six months you won’t need me anymore.” 

“Really?” You questioned excitedly.

“Really.” Robert said with a smile, “You keep working hard and with the support that you have, you got this. We’re done for the day so get into your chair and get outta here.” 

“Yes sir.” You replied, giving a mock salute.

“Thanks Robert.” Jensen spoke, moving your chair next to you so that you could safely get into it.

“You sure you’re okay dad?” You asked before taking a bite of your protein bar, “You’ve been acting all weird since the gym.”

Jensen gave you another tight smile, “Yeah I’m fine sweetheart, just thinking about some stuff.”

“Wanna share with the class?” You questioned, taking another bite of your bar. Your dad let out a long breath and you could tell he was trying to think about what to say, “What is it? Dad, you’re kinda freaking me out, the last time you acted this weird was when you wanted my opinion on asking mom to marry you and you thought I’d say no.”

“It’s just something Robert said is all.” He told you.

“What did he say? I thought he had nothing but awesome news today.” You replied, not understanding where your father was going with this.

“It is, it’s amazing news babygirl and I’m so proud of all the hard work you’ve done.” Your dad told you.

“Okay...then what is it?” You pushed.

“He said the support you’ve gotten has been a lot of help.” He stated.

“Yeah, and? Isn’t that a good thing? You and mom are always worried you aren’t doing enough but obviously you are. You guys don’t push me too hard, you let me try to be independent at home, you come to all my doctor and physical therapy appointments, you’ve been amazing.” You spoke with a smile, “I might suck at saying it but I really appreciate you having my back with all of this dad, being there with me through it all has made this easier.”

Jensen grabbed your free hand, brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on it, “I’m so glad I’ve been able to be here for you and I’m so proud of you sweetheart.” 

Later that night you were settling into bed when a knock at your door grabbed your attention.

“Come in.” You shouted as you attempted to pull your covers up.

“Hey sweetheart, mind if we talk about something?” Your dad asked as he stepped into your room.

“Sure.” You nodded your head as you successfully pulled your quilt up to your chest, “What’s up?”

“Just uh, something I gotta tell you. It’s what I was thinking about during the car ride back from PT today.” He told you as he sat at the foot of your bed.

“Told you there was something buggin’ ya.” You replied, “Why didn’t you tell me then?”

Jensen scratched the back of his neck, “Just wasn’t the right setting.” He replied, “Babygirl you know how glad I’ve been to be able to be with you throughout all of this, right?” You nodded your head, not sure where he was going with this. “Watching you through all of this, it’s been hell as a parent but I can’t imagine not being there with you through all of this.” Again you nodded your head, confused with what he was trying to tell you. “Well sweetheart, it’s been four months since the accident, which means I’ve been away from work for four months…”

“So?” You asked in a harsh tone.

“So, I have to go back to Vancouver next week.” Your dad said in a sad voice, “Jared and I have been able to buy time so that I can be here but I gotta go back so that we can finish this season and so they can start prepping for the next one.”

You didn’t say anything, you just started at your dad.

It made sense, he’d been gone from work for a long time. No filming, no conventions, he hadn’t done anything with the brewery or with music. The last few months he’d been dedicated to taking care of you and trying to spend time with your siblings. 

That didn’t mean it hurt any less to hear he was going back to work which meant rarely seeing him and having to face everything alone. Yeah you had Danneel but she had your three siblings to take care of.

Which meant you were going to be alone.

“You’re gonna leave me?” You questioned, your voice sounding like you were a small child which broke your dad’s heart.

“No honey, I could never just leave you.” Jensen replied, grabbing onto your hand.

“But you’re gonna go back to Vancouver to film.” You stated.

“Yeah.” Jensen grimaced, “But I’ll be back every other weekend and I promise to FaceTime you every chance I get.”

“But you won’t be here.” You told him as tears began to form in your eyes, “Dad, I need you. You can’t leave me.” Jensen looked at you but didn’t know what to say, he knew you wouldn’t like that he was leaving but he couldn’t avoid it. Filming had been put off for as long as possible and you weren’t able to go to Vancouver with him.

“You know I’d stay if I could sweetheart.” Jensen said, wiping the tears that were falling from your eyes.

“But I need you here.” You stated again, “You can’t leave me, I can’t do this without you.” 

Jensen moved so that he was sitting at the head of the bed with you and carefully scooped you up so you were in his lap.

“I’m so sorry honey,” He tried to sooth you as you sobbed into his neck. He held the back of your head while rubbing your back with his other hand, “You can do this sweetheart, I’ll call you all the time and be home whenever I can be.”

“Please don’t leave me.” You cried into his neck, “Don’t leave me alone, I can’t do this alone, I need my dad, please don’t leave me.” 

Jensen continued to hold onto you, his own tears falling down his cheeks. He tried his hardest to keep it together but he hadn’t seen you fall apart like this in months, only this time he was the cause of it.

“Please don’t leave me daddy.” You repeated, holding on tighter to your father.

Jensen closed his eyes as he felt his heart break at your request knowing that he couldn’t do anything about it.

[hermannsthumb]

Hermann preparing for date night with Newt by selecting where to eat solely by what he has a coupon for. Or, ya know, frugal connoisseur Hermann. <3 ksci

inspired by a convo re: the fact that ksci @k-sci-janitor likes to make fun of me for never letting a coupon go to waste even if it means walking like 2 miles in the cold to use it :/ like im gonna NOT get a free Baja blast. (there is one small little allusion to some M rated stuff towards the end in this)

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

It’s not a rare occurrence that Hermann will treat Newt to dinner when the mood of dining out strikes them, but the point is that he’s doing it in a way that’s supremely…shifty tonight. Well, maybe not shifty. Weird? For one thing, he didn’t tell Newt where they were going until they were already on the bus headed there, for another, it’s their sharing-a-lab-anniversary, which tradition dictates they evenly split a bill (even if the origins have more to do with both trying to show up the other and take advantage and order the most expensive shit on the menu). The weirdest thing is definitely that, when Hermann got up to pay the bill five minutes ago—a small, folded piece of paper clutched in his hand—he left his wallet laying next to his wine glass on the table.

Newt stirs his straw around in his cup of soda, clinking ice cubes against the sides, and squints at the wallet. Did Hermann bring cash to pay with? He could’ve stuck some in his pockets without Newt seeing, or his bank card, even, which would explain the forlorn wallet. Or maybe forgetting the wallet was totally an accident, and he’ll be back in a few seconds to pick it up and pay for real when he realizes. That’s probably it.

When Hermann comes back to their table, though, he doesn’t bother with his wallet—he takes his seat, picks up his wine glass, and tips it at Newt. “That was quite lovely, wasn’t it?”

Newt hums. “It was.”

“I quite liked the fish I got,” Hermann says.

“I loved my noodles,” Newt says. “We should try to copy the recipe back at the base.” He sets his straw delicately on the table. “How’d you pay without your wallet?”

“My wallet?” Hermann says. He makes a show of catching sight of the wallet, arches his eyebrows in mock surprise, and picks it up. Here we go. “Oh, goodness. Did I forget this? Well—it’s not as if I needed it…” He tucks it neatly into his inner jacket pocket.

“Hermann,” Newt says, rolling his eyes. “What’d you do, get a hundred-percent discount by reminding them we saved the world a few months ago?” Hermann shakes his head, and takes a long sip of his wine. “Did you write a check? Did you pretend we got food poisoning or something?” Hermann shakes his head again, and this time, his mouth begins to creep up into a smug smile. Newt remembers the piece of paper. “Dude. You got us a fucking Groupon. No wonder you were being so weird about what I was ordering!”

(“I think we ought to stick with the entrees labelled B, Newton,” Hermann had said, flipping a page forward in Newt’s menu. “They look—er—far better.”

“More expensive,” Newt had said.

“What’s it matter? I’m paying.” Hermann had pointed at the noodle dish Newt had ended up getting. “Look, I reckon you’d like that.”)

Hermann finally grins triumphantly. “I did—and saved us quite a decent from our ‘date night’ fund. Pity it didn’t extend to dessert, I suppose, but we could always find some ice cream at the commissary later.”

Newt can’t even pretend to be exasperated. The noodles rocked. And they would’ve rocked even more if he knew that Hermann was saving them a few bucks. “You’re such a weirdo,” Newt says, shaking his head, though he’s mirroring Hermann’s grin. “Is that why you picked this place?”

“Not entirely,” Hermann says. He takes a long, slow sip of his wine. “Mostly I picked it to make a point.”

“About?”

“About my being right.”

Newt sighs. Only Hermann would dredge up old arguments on Lab Anniversary Night. It wasn’t even an argument, really—all that happened was that Hermann asked Newt to hand him his glasses cleaning cloth from his parka, and it took Newt almost ten minutes because Hermann’s pockets were so jam-packed with a million little coupons for everything from granola bars (which they can get from the mess hall for free) to mouthwash (which Newt can snag from the commissary, also for free, whenever they need it) that he couldn’t find anything but. A majority of them were expired. Then Newt remarked on how Hermann was nuts, and Hermann remarked on how Newt didn’t understand the value of making smart financial decisions, and they went back and forth for a bit like that. This was a whole week ago, too. In terms of Newt and Hermann arguments, that’s more than ancient history. “Are we really talking about the fucking coupons now?” Newt says.

“Frugality pays off,” Hermann says, cryptically. “Now we really ought to head out. The forecast is calling for rain, and I don’t fancy getting caught in it.”

They get caught in the rain anyway. Newt invites himself over to Hermann’s bunk to dry off, because Hermann bought a space heater back when they were stationed in Russia, and it travelled with him here to aid through the long nights of overpowering A/C. Right now, it’s aiding Newt through stripping out of his wet clothes. When he’s down to just his boxers, he snags the quilt from Hermann’s bed, and waits for him to finish up in his little en suite bathroom to hopefully catch a hot shower. One of the unexpected side effects of the world not ending and most nonessential personnel leaving the ‘dome in doves is that they almost never run out of hot water anymore. Newt can take a shower at midnight and not freeze his ass off. It’s awesome, really.

Hermann emerges from the bathroom in a dorky little pair of pajamas, a dressing gown knotted at his waist. “Oh, Newton,” he sighs, and prods at Newt’s blanket cocoon with his cane, “not my grandmother’s quilt.”

“I’m dry!” Newt says. “Mostly!”

He gives up the quilt to Hermann and ducks into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He stuck a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet at some point, for when he was too sleepy and lazy after makeout sessions to go back to his bunk, and sure enough he finds it alongside a suspiciously generic-looking tube of toothpaste. It doesn’t even have a label. He doesn’t think much of it until he starts to use it, which is when he immediately gags and begins to rinse his mouth out with hot water. “What the hell is this toothpaste?” he chokes out. “It tastes—awful.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. He ducks his head into the bathroom, looking a bit sheepish. “Well. I found a coupon for that brand, and I know it’s not very, er, pleasant, but—I saved forty percent, Newton.” Newt continues to rinse his mouth out, this time adding some mouthwash into the mix. “Oh, really, now you’re just being dramatic. It’s only toothpaste.”

“Dude,” Newt says. “I feel like I just rubbed, like, acid cement all over my gums.”

“Ah,” Hermann repeats, guiltily.

A bit later, Newt goes in to kiss Hermann goodnight as they settle into Hermann’s bed together, but pulls back with a sad little pout when Hermann merely flinches away from him. “Oh, Newton, I’m sorry,” Hermann says, quickly wrapping his arms around Newt and kissing his neck. It softens the blow somewhat. “It’s that bloody toothpaste. You still smell like it. You’re right, it’s rubbish.”

“Tell you what,” Newt says, grumpily. “I’ll buy you a brand new tube tomorrow. My treat.”

Newt mostly forgets about the coupon thing for a bit. The odd little item crops up in the lab that makes him roll his eyes fondly at Hermann, but nothing as major as the Groupon or toothpaste. Hermann’s preferred tea brand swapped out for something Newt’s never heard of in a flavor that Hermann clearly detests, if his face when he drinks it is anything to go by, for example, the chocolate digestives Hermann keeps in his desk replaced with plain ones, his new box of chalk all in a salmony shade of pink and weak enough to snap apart under his fingers if he presses down too hard on his chalkboard. When Newt asks about the changes, the answer’s always the same: Hermann had a coupon for them, or they were less expensive than his usual. Newt just wishes he could understand where this sudden bought of thriftiness came from. It’s not like it was back during the war, where they had to pinch pennies and save in every area they could if they wanted to supplement their nonexistent funding. They’re actually getting paychecks now, on behalf of the UN’s guilty conscience! They have free room and board! They even put a few neat bucks away from some (heavily-redacted) interviews they did back in late January.

What Newt’s getting at is Hermann doesn’t have to limit them ordering out sushi to only places with free delivery on date nights, or skimp on his pizza toppings (four-topping down to two) so they can use a better coupon, or buy any of those subpar teabags or digestives or toothpaste tubes. But he just…is.

The tipping point occurs on a Saturday night about a month after the Groupon incident.

“Nn. Hermann. Do that again.”

“Do—?"

“Yeah.” Newt groans, turning his head to the side. “Oh, shit.”

“Newton—” Hermann kisses his throat. “Newton, you’re—”

“Wait.” Newt pauses. “What is that?”

“Oh, er.” Hermann pulls his hand away. “You mean the—the—?”

“Yeah. It feels…weird.” He frowns. “That is not what we used last time.”

“Oh. No. It isn’t.” Hermann clears his throat. “Well, Newton—see—we were out, so I thought I’d—I’d buy a larger bottle, to last us longer, and I happened to find a coupon for this lovely—er—gallon-sized—”

“You’re kidding,” Newt says.

“Only I thought it was a very frugal purchase,” Hermann says. “We do tend to, er, burn through it rather quickly.”

Newt rolls away from him. “Dude. We need to have a talk.”

Some brief amount of time later, they sit together on the end of Hermann’s bed, clad in their pajama bottoms and, in Hermann’s case, one of Newt’s sweatshirts. Newt waits until Hermann meets his eyes blushingly before he proceeds. “What is up with you lately?” he says. “You’ve been acting so—weird. Weirder than usual,” he amends. “Since when have you cared about saving a couple bucks on random shit like pizza?”

Hermann fidgets, and sighs, and finally reaches to pull open the drawer of his nightstand. He retrieves a piece of paper folded into quadrants, and for a wild moment Newt thinks it might be another Groupon. “Oh, I wanted it to be a surprise,” Hermann says. “I was going to wait until it was all finalized—but it’s close enough now, so I suppose there’s no harm in it.” He thrusts the paper out at Newt, and Newt—still wondering if it’s not another Groupon—unfolds it with surprise to find what looks like a flight itinerary. Two tickets for Hong Kong to Boston, with a short layover; then two more tickets a week after they land for a short trip from Boston to some town in Maine Newt recognizes as being seaside. They’re made out to Hermann Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler and purchased a little over a week ago.

“You kept telling me you wanted me to meet your father,” Hermann says, and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “And—I thought it might be nice, to have an—er—vacation, for a few days. We’ve certainly earned one. And it’s not as if we have any truly pressing obligations at the moment that can’t be put on hold for a week or two. I was planning on booking us a little cottage up in Maine—or maybe just a hotel room, I hadn’t decided—but we don’t have to if you don’t—”

“And you’ve been saving up for it?” Newt interrupts.

“For a few months now,” Hermann says. “Since February, in fact.”

“And that’s why…?”

The tips of Hermann’s ears turn red. “Every penny helped,” he says.

Newt carefully re-folds the itinerary, sets it aside, and then kisses Hermann soundly. It would be safe to say that Hermann’s thoughtful, romantic moods tend to be on the spontaneous side, probably as spontaneous as they are in Newt, so when one strikes Hermann (and in such a perfectly Hermann way as this one) Newt doesn’t like to take it for granted. “Of course I wanna go on vacation with you,” Newt says. “You rock. Seriously.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hermann says, looking pleased.

[lluvguts]

Picnic that is accidentally rained on// Stan & Bill

Please&thankyou 💕

certainly! ❤❤ hope you like it

---

note: they're aged up! 17!

Stanley surveyed the picturesque scene with more scrutiny than Bill had hoped for. The perfect spot for a picnic--one of the few grassy areas in Derry, untouched by the wet season--with the perfect setup: ratty old blanket Bill found in their attic, a few paperbacks he knew were Stan's favorite reads, lemon tea, pastries Bill had his mother prepare in plastic wrap so they wouldn't crumble. Even the goddamn placement of the assorted foods and drink were perfect, but Bill couldn't help but feel a certain something was missing. Bill's truck was only a few feet away, that had to be it. The eyesore. Or was it the lack of songbirds, to flit about their cliché little picnic? An orchestra in the background?

He turned to Stan, who ended his cursory stare with a warm smile that melted Bill to a pool of butter. It made the anxiety that tapped its quick fingers along his ribcage quiet down, too. It was something Bill had grown to love about him: Stanley knew just when to say the right thing, when to grin, when to kiss his lips so he'd stop stuttering.

"I k-k-know," Bill started, but stopped sentence at the warning signs of a stutter. No. It would not ruin this date, not today. Bill was certain of it. He had worked so hard on ending his evil stutter, he scheduled extra speech therapy sessions, even repeated the tried and true phrases that he knew would help until he heard them in his sleep.

Stanley looked at the grass before stepping closer to Bill, grabbing his hand. If he was to say something, it ended when Bill opened his mouth again to speak, his words coming out true and clear. More confident than perhaps he'd heard their whole childhood.

Bill shut his eyes to focus and spoke softer, gentler. "I know it's not much, but I t-thought it would be something you'd like."

Stanley gripped Bill's hand, glancing away briefly at his own embarrassed blush.

"This isn't one of your artfully worded scenes in your novel, is it Bill?" Stan asked while wiping his free hand across his hot cheeks.

Bill's heart resumed its excited drumbeat as he eased the two of them down onto Grandma Denbrough's patched quilt. Once Stan was comfortable Bill handed him one of the chipped cups and the thermos of tea. "Of c-course not. All Original Bill, just for y-you," He replied.

Stan snorted. "You're kinda sounding like Richie."

"Oh really, the T-Trashmouth, huh? 'hey Eds, let me call you names and pretend I'm not flirting with you. I've been in love with you since middle school but I'm too chicken to show it! My Own Get Off On a Good One! Yowza-YOWZA!' Oh oh, and something about E-Eddie's mom." Bill didn't stutter at any of Richie's parts, much to Stanley's liking, as he was in a laughing fit at Bill's gangly arms that swung across his sides and the imaginary glasses he adjusted on his nose.

"That was a pretty good impression. Maybe you do Voices better than he does," Stanley said on the end of his giggling, finally reaching out to unwrap a berry tart. Bill saw him eyeing it, but was too shy to take it first.

"These aren't half bad. I didn't know you could cook." Stan said around the bite in his mouth.

"George helped me make them. He a-added the sugar on top." Bill smiled to himself then looked out to the horizon, where a league of darkening clouds appeared, but to him seemed miles away from their picnic. Nothing was going to ruin their date.

"Books, too?" Stanley asked with feigned horror, placing a hand across his chest. He scooted closer to Bill and rested his chin on his shoulder. "You outdid yourself, Bill Denbrough."

Bill picked up one, the closest of the newly purchased paperbacks. "I c-can try to read to you."

"Okay, but that one might be a bit difficult," Stan said with a nervous glance at the cover. "And not because of the, uh, stutter. You're just gonna think it's dead boring."

"I'm sure I won't. Here, s-see?" Bill used one hand to pull Stan's side closer, and with the other he flipped the book to its front page. The other boy leaned in to see the words for himself as Bill peered at the lengthy first sentence. He wasn't sure why Stan liked this book, maybe it was just the love for reading he picked up from Mike.

Bill opened his mouth to read aloud, hoping the words would sound as perfect in his head as they did on the paper when a fat droplet of water splattered onto the page, soaking the ink in a dime-sized bullet. Bill looked up with surprise at the water falling around them, then back to the book, which was collecting more pellets of rain.

Oh, right. That was the problem. The weather forecast.

He tried not to look too upset as they packed their picnic up into Bill's backpack, the rain steadily growing. Stanley only laughed at the water, and ran a hand through his curly hair that was soon drenched in rain. Once they half-ran, mostly laughed, back to Bill's truck, he spoke up.

"Y-You're not m-m-mad about the rain, a-a-are you?" Bill was in the driver's side, and deposited their things in the back seat while Stanley found a spare blanket tucked under one of the seats before climbing in next to Bill in the driver's seat with it wrapped around his rain-covered shoulders. In some ways Bill was grateful Stan wasn't like Eddie, who at the first sight of storm clouds would go weak at the knees and rush home for his boots and three unnecessary coats. He lived, just a little.

Stan saved a few of the pastries before Bill zipped up his backpack. "Of course not. Why would I be mad? We can have our picnic in here, Bill...but after we warm up a bit first."

His heart was racing, and the anxiety made his words come out choppy and jumbled and anything but perfect. "I was w-w-worried you'd think the d-date was gonna suck n-now, but I'm su-su-sure we can s-s-stay in here till the weather c-c-calms down. Unless y-y-you want me tu-tu-to take you h-h-h-"

"Hey, it's alright." Stan took his hand again, and looked into his wary eyes. He smiled, reminding Bill to breathe. "You don't have to say anything, I'm happy right where I am."

Bill blushed as Stan set the food on the passenger's seat and slipped comfortably into Bill's lap, finding his favorite cuddle position: his legs carefully placed on either side of Bill, hands clasped against his chest, his mess of curls inches from Bill's nose as he nestled in. Bill slid his hands under the blanket to sit snug across Stanley's waist, and the other boy sighed.

"It's so peaceful with the rain."

He was right. The clouds ahead filled the sky in an off-white, everything that much brighter with the blank overhead canvas. Making the soft patter of rainfall against the windowpanes the perfect sound when the boy cuddled close in his lap was heating up his entire body with the warm puffs of air across his exposed neck as he breathed.

"Stan?" Bill whispered.

"Hmm?"

He bent down to murmur in Stanley's cold ear. "Maybe I-I'll add this to one of my b-b-books."

Stanley affectionately thwacked Bill's upper chest, and even if he was flustered he still put his lips to Bill's shirt collar, kissing his skin. Bill tensed, a little flustered himself. They weren't quite at the annoying, honeymoon stage of their relationship, as both Stan and Bill promised they'd never be the stereotypical high school sweethearts. And they definitely were not as lovey dovey as Ben and Beverly were--or for that matter, Richie and Eddie. Good lord, were those two joined at the hip. Hugging in public, practically drooling over each other, always finding a spare moment to make out. Bill wasn't fond of that, thank you very much. It was the tender moments together, without the spying eyes of the other Losers he cherished most.

"You're a hopeless romantic, Billy," Stanley said between another tentative kiss, his pink nose brushing Bill's neck.

Forget the Disney-worthy scene outside minutes before. Bill loved this. He loved hearing, feeling the rhythm of Stan's heartbeat, and the rain that tried its best to copy it. It didn't have to be perfect. But it was with Stan and that was really all that mattered to him.

[builder051]

some things never change

Chasing ghosts

Warnings for mentions of alcohol/drug use and SA

__________________

James wakes in the LaZBoy in the corner lf the living room, his head barely supported by the throw pillow jammed between the chair's arm and cushioned back. Light streams through the cheap blinds. James wonders what time it is. Then, vaguely, what day it its.

He rubs his eyes, which feel full of the haze of leftover burning smoke. His mouth tastes like smoke, too. Sort of like tobacco. A little like weed. He's evidentially been partying, even though that's not typically his thing. At least, not anymore.

James stretches and punches in the chair's footrest with his heels. It makes a popping sound, and that arouses a gran from the sofa across the rom.

"God, you're fucking loud," a small, hoarse voice complains.

"Tash?" James squints to distinguish her mop of red hair from the mound of quilts and afghans. There's a trash bin on ghe floor near what would appear to be Tasha's head. James assumes she's been partying too. Maybe she's the reason he's been partying in the first place.

"Hmph," the pile of blankets replies. James takes it as an affirmative.

"Ok." James pushes to his feet. Dizziness threatens to send him reeling for a moment, but he manages to shuffle into the kitchen and pour water into the coffeepot before his stomach bottoms out and he retches into the sink.

James's mouth and nose burn with bile, and he stifles a hacking cough.

"You ok?" Someone asks from behind James's shoulder.

James tries to keep his natural fight or flight response at bay whilst also stopping another dry retch before it finds its way into his throat. "Huh?" he says quickly. "I-- I'm--"

"Buck," Steve murmurs apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok," James chokes. He swallows hard and forces a smile.

Steve looks at him a little doubtfully. Then furrows his brows in an expression of real concern.

"What happened last night?" he asks in a low voice.

"I'm..." James swallows again, then turns back to the sink and spits. "Still trying to figure that out."

"You came home at two-thirty," Steve offers. "If that helps."

James shrugs. "My guess is that the supposed knight in shining armor wound up getting... pretty busted up."

"You're not all beat up, though," Steve says. "And you weren't that out of it. James is sure he's giving the mildest report humanly possible.

"I know I was high," James immediately admits, putting up his hands in honest innocence. "On what, I have practically no idea."

Regular cigarettes and pot can usually blur the edges for him a little, but it takes something heavier to drop him on his ass. Prescription grade, at least. Though he doesn't explicitly tell Steve that.

"Well," Steve says, glancing toward the living room to see Tasha's current grade of consciousness. "If you were high, she was fucking blitzed." Steve pauses. "And I don't know if it's, like, a thing, or something. I've never partied like that, but--"

"Just spit it out," James says with a sigh, taking the towel from the handle of the dishwasher to wipe his face.

"She didn't have any pants." Steve looks fairly mortified. "Like, you had her all covered with your jacket, like a dress, and all..." He trails off.

That partially explains why there are so many blankets on the sofa. Also why there are no sounds of the laundry machines tumbling all traces of last night out of Tasha's scant clothes.

"Meh." James shrugs. He puts the towel back. "Happens sometimes. Especially if there's something like... an unplanned interruption."

Steve takes a deep breath. "Wow." Then, "If you knew it was, well, that kind of party, why'd you let her go?"

"No question of letting her," James says, suddenly exhausted. "She's 18. She can make her own decisions."

"But, alcohol?" Steve ask. "Drugs? Guys?"

"She doesn't like guys," James says quickly, and with a snarky smile.

"But she was, obviously, well, you know--"

"Transactional," James says. "At least that's probably how it started." He looks into the living room to see if Tasha has stirred any more, which she hasn't. Drunken wakings are like that-- coming and going a bit before one knows what's really real. He hopes that's where Tasha is right now.

James glances at Steve, who still has the same curious look. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?"y

"No," Steve says, "But--?"

"Well, share your body and I'll share my drugs is one thing." It still brings a disgusted look to James's face. "But when you go in there to get her and she's naked and trying to break her own thumb to escape the handcuffs and the second guy's dropping his pants to take his turn..." James squeezes his eyes shut. He feels sick all over again, though he's already emptied the contents of his stomach.

"You want to take her in?" Steve suggests, his eyes wide. "Do a kit or something?"

"You can ask her when she gets up," James says doubtfully. "But if she's behaving anything like her regular self, she's gonna say she agreed to the first guy, and all he's guilty of is being rough. I'm pretty sure I punched the second guy out before he got on her.

"That's just..." Steve pauses..."Nuts. That you know this. That you aren't freaking out about this."

"Yeah, well, I learned pretty quickly that there better be specific relevant details when I first tried taking her to the ER after she turned 18. Hadn't moved out of the home yet, but was still trying to party like a college singleton."

"How'd you... take that?" Steve finally asks.

"Went with her when I could. Surveilled from a distance when she wouldn't let me. Only took her to the ER once after a rough one, and I found out real quick that statutory didn't apply anymore. Of course she agreed she'd consented, and I was the one who looked like a fool."

"What're you doing?" a miserable voice comes from the vicinity of the living room. "Are you talking about me?"

"Shit," James mutters. He wonders if she heard him talking about last night. He hopes not, lest she think he's broken some kind of unspoken sibling confidentiality rule of which they have yet to factor Steve into as something between boyfriend and brother-in-law. “Morning, Tash,” he says, giving Steve a glare that’s clearly meant to say their previous conversation is strictly under wraps.

“Hi.” Tasha slowly gets to her feet from her couch bed, still wearing the bottom blanket as a sort of toga dress over James’s backward hoodie. She stumbles a little, and James practically runs to keep her from falling, even though he’s not completely steady himself.

“Hey,” Tasha groans, grasping James’s arm as he pulls her into a hug. “I feel gross.” She pulls away, holding her hand an inch or so in front of her mouth.

“Yeah, I’m not all sunshine and daisies myself,” James admits.

“What were you rolling on?” Tasha asks skeptically. “Tylenol?”

“Tash, be serious, please.” James wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t want to exacerbate his current headache.

“Oxy?” Tasha tries again.

“Hey,” Steve snaps, suddenly up with the program.

“Don’t worry about it,” James tells him. “My privacy really isn’t the issue here.”

“So you were finally giving in to your cravings.” Tasha touches her tongue to her upper lip.

“So maybe I was.” James does his best not to let anger creep into his voice. He goes with cold, hard honesty instead. “I actually can’t remember what the fuck I took last night. Did. Drank.” James runs his hand through his hair.

“The sink says Guinness,” Steve supplies. “And your clothes say weed.”

James nods. It’s a fair enough assessment. He’s pretty sure pills were involved as well, lest it not be his type of party. The oxy makes sense. He probably rolled a little ecstasy with it, as he thinks he recalls lying on the couch in the house for some unknown period of time before reality set back in and he had to find Tasha.

Lying on the couch. That’s what Tasha ought to be doing right now. More drugs than what piped through James have probably hit her miniscule system. The fact that shey’s up, no matter how unsteady, seems to be a feat to be reckoned with.

“And what’re you on?” James asks, though he knows he’s unlikely to get an answer. At least an honest one.

“Same as you.” Tasha shrugs. “Maybe a little more. Maybe a little less.” She nudges the not exactly empty trash bin beside the couch with her foot. There isn’t much in it substance-wise, but the yellow bile at the bottom appears to be streaked with blood.

Broken capillaries at the back of the throat aren’t necessarily uncommon, James reminds himself, but the whole scene is a little unsettling. Sort of like the fact that she’s still wearing her temporary coat-and-blanket dress, making no move toward increased modesty. It’s as if the partying of the previous night has, for both of them, brought on exhaustion and an expulsion of cold, hard honesty. Something of the type James is more likely to spill; something mature that implies she’s out-aged the fun of the previous night.

It’s weird for Tasha, acting like the miniature grown-up that James knows she isn’t. But then he thinks back to the way he found her last night, and how he’s told her story to Steve without her express permission. Guilt fills James’s stomach, and he doesn’t feel beyond vomiting again. He just hopes Steve does have the sense not to let her know what he knows.

“Do you want to go to bed?” James asks Tasha, gesturing down the hall. “I don’t know what time it is, but it seems as good a time as any to crash.”

“Hm.” Tasha looks at him skeptically.

“I’ll get you some Tylenol. Gatorade, even.”

Tasha gives him a long, hard look that turns her skepticism into something else. James can nearly swear he sees tears at the corners of her eyes, but when he blinks, they’re gone.

“Can I bunk with you?” Tasha’s obvious attempt not to look teary gives her away, but now she seems congested as fuck, wiping her nose on the sleeve of James’s jacket.

“Yeah,” James replies, pulling two bottles of sports drink from the fridge, then putting his arm around Tasha. “Of course.”

“You do too much for me,” Tasha mutters into James’s shoulder. “I know you know it.”

James shrugs. He still feels a little on the toasted side himself, and, to be honest, his little sister’s warm comfort, no matter how binged or beaten, is a positive presence in his life. He wants her to be ok. It makes him ok. If one day she decides she’s not, they’ll handle it. Together. But for now, sleep is in order.

Tasha sandwiches herself between Steve and James in their not exactly spacious bed, stealing the covers and complaining of hot and cold in cycles as the drugs work their way out of her system. She clings to James, then to Steve for a while.

“She won’t freak out if she wakes up and I’m the one with her?” Steve asks conscientiously.

“No,” James replies with purpose. “You’re nice to her, and there’s nothing to be gained by banging you.” James smiles a bit to buffer the ragged truthfulness of the words, but Steve just sighs and nods.

“She’s never had an ‘older brother’s boyfriend,’ has she?” Steve asks.

James shakes his head

“I mean, like, some non-relative to take care of her.”

James raises his brows, but Steve quickly cuts in with a “you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, one that she’s not screwing or getting drugs from, or getting drugs for… There’s a reason so many of them in gangs, you know?” James says.

“You mean,” Steve starts. “She was—“

“Let’s pretend I didn’t bring that up.” James feels warm and sweaty, and Tasha’s unconscious body lies between them, lips subtly parted and hair draped wildly across the pillow.

“Ok,” Steve nods solemnly.

“Home life was tough. College seems like it’s maybe just as bad. Could be a little worse…” James shakes his head.

“And, well, you’re both better at picking at flaws on the other one,” Steve quietly points out

“Yeah,” James sighs. “That’s… probably the truest thing I’ve heard all night.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Steve says with a grin, “But it’s definitely morning. Maybe even noon by now.”

“Fucker…” James reaches over Tasha’s sleeping form to grasp Steve’s upper arm.

Steve shrugs. “Maybe. But I do suggest getting some sleep.” He nods down to Tasha’s curled, heavy-breathing frame.

“You’re kind of full of it, aren’t you?” James smiles. “Finding ways to take care of us?”

“Well, I have to somehow. And if it’s by throwing blankets on the couch and washing puke out of the sink, I’m here for it, I guess.”

“You’re—“

“Helpful?” Steve suggests, grinning. “Kind? Loving? Necessary?”

“Sure.” James reaches carefully over Tasha to give Steve a kiss on the cheek.

“Now,” Steve says, nuzzling James’s forehead as Tasha’s hair comes up to tickle his chin, “We get our well-deserved rest.”