#because light from the sun miles and mile away hit it and it bounced perfectly into the mm wide holes in my face

[mollypaup]

The fact that visual is the preferred method of sight across most species is insane to think about

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 7: Courtship

WIP: Silent Magnets Pairing: Devin x Everett Timeline: 1975 (when will the modern timeline return from war?) CW: none Rating: T (though I think it could go lower tbh) Words: 1,611

***

I'm gesticulating when I talk—nothing new and kind of relatable as far as Everett goes—the van is chugging along, traffic is light on the highway, the sun is bright, and the tunes are scratchy and cool.

"Did he think I was dumb?" I snap a pout at Everett, my curls bouncing directly out of my face along with the breeze from the window. "Ev, you gotta tell me the truth. That was a ‘this broad is dumb' look."

"Ah, no," Everett laughs, peeking into the rearview mirror at the car we'd just passed. "He was concerned that you didn't know half of the door is…hanging on by a miracle..." With this comment he leans across me and yanks the handle of said door, thus activating the lock once more. "And I can't say I blame him."

"He thought I didn't know our door is falling off?" I throw my hands up and all but shove myself out of the window. "You're the stupid one, pal!"

Everett takes my hand closest to him and pulls me back to my seat. "Okay. Maybe don't exit the vehicle until it comes to a complete stop."

I sigh. "Wilco," I grumble, though I'm giggling with him at this point. I lace our fingers together. "I think we need to get some sleep. We're either gonna end up crashing this thing or we're gonna go insane."

Brushing his thumb over the back of my hand, Everett takes the next exit. "I second that," he says a little too jovially.

"Where are we going, sir?" I ask in a goofy English accent.

Everett leans into the wheel to better determine when to merge into traffic and complements my silly voice with one of his own. "Yes, I was somewhat hoping we could find a place to rest our weary heads. Some would say it is against the law to drive while intoxicated, and I believe that's where we are headed with our exhaustion." 

We're moving again and that's when it hits me. There's a silence in the van only broken by "How Sweet It Is" coming in over the radio at the most crucial time, and I look down at our hands. Perfectly grasping one another. Mine, very small in his.

It was so natural. I didn't even notice it had happened. And I think it hit Everett weird then, too, because he squeezes my hand lightly, confirming that it's what's going on. We hold hands all the way to a quaint lodge a mile or so off the highway, after which he parks, turns off the van, and we sit for a few minutes. Silent.

I look at our hands again.

"I may be out of line," Everett says eventually, and like he very much knows he's not out of line, "but consensus has agreed that the next logical step is to address this." He holds our hands up between us and affects a knowing grin I can't help feeling soft about.

"Okay," I exhale, fatigue dropping onto me like a six-ton weight. I watch people entering and exiting the motel for a moment. "It makes me feel good and like we should've been doing it this whole time." A blush rises into my face but I turn my eyes to him almost with defiance against my nerves.

He tilts his head down as he, too, people-watches a bit. "Well. That's been addressed." He pauses. "You have baby hands."

"No I god damn don't," I retort as he unlatches our grip on one another. It doesn't seem urgent, in fact it seemed hesitant, but we're separate again now in any case.

He checks us into a double room, the implications of which don't fully land until I step over the threshold and register the one bed in the middle. I freeze in place, and Everett comes up behind me to take stock of the accommodations.

"Yeah!" he says sharply. "Let me go to the front desk to switch rooms."

I grab his arm as he turns away. "No."

Everett pivots to me and his eyebrows jump toward his hairline.

"I mean," I stammer, "unless you wanted to…I just thought it would be easier if—"

"It's alright." His face has softened and he's smiling at me, warm. His eyes sparkle with assurance. "I didn't expect it, that's all."

Nodding, I take my bag from him. "Swell. Okay. That's swell. Saves us a lot of trouble."

Everett orders food for us while I take a shower. We stuff our tired faces with pizza while watching the only clear channel on television, which happens to be the news. We stay up shockingly late, considering how close we are to passing out, and it's well into evening before Everett emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered himself, dressed in an adorable striped pajama set and drying his hair with a towel.

"Très chic," I snicker from my place propped up against the pillows.

He does a twirl for me, arms outspread. "Why, thank you, sir." He crawls into bed next to me, yawning loud. "You're sure this is okay?"

"Yeah."

I stare at his face as he pinches the bridge of his nose, tucking his arm under his pillow and dropping the comforter over himself.

In the quiet, he forces his eyes open to look right back at me. They're so devoid of energy but they're patient...like he's waiting for me to change my mind.

"Can I kiss you goodnight?" is what actually comes out of my mouth.

At first, I think he's going to instantly reject me. But he pushes himself up onto his elbow and holds his other arm out to me.

I'm drawn to him, shifting until I'm close to being right on top of him, and he guides my head down to his face. Presses a kiss to my mouth. Sweet, lingering, and there's a purity to it I don't think I can properly explain. It's so familiar and nostalgic for a time of my life that never happened. His lips are so inviting, so welcoming, and a thumb brushes across my cheek in the same motion it'd brushed across the back of my hand in the car.

Before I can savor the kiss like it should've been savored, it's over. He leans back and pushes a curl behind my ear.

"Good night," he whispers.

And I couldn't say for sure what happened between then and the next half a minute—I guess my overly expressive face gave me away—but Everett's fingers are in my hair and I'm kissing him again, a little less sweet though the purity is still there, and he lies down with me, and I become addicted to kissing him until we fall asleep in each other's arms.

Waking up to Everett the next morning is enough to energize me for the rest of my life, I think. He stretches and gives me another peck on the lips, and neither of us minds the morning breath so much. We get our morning routines out of the way, pack up, go out to breakfast hand-in-hand, and set out on the road once more with new songs in our hearts and lighter laughter.

"What do we call this, then?" I ask over lunch.

He circles the air with a forkful of salad and jabs in my direction with it. "We call it a courtship."

My incredulous snort finds its way around my French fries. The restaurant is beginning to fill with people as the afternoon rush hits. "A courtship? The brave knight is pitching woo?"

"Only if there is woo to pitch." He winks at me.

I turn my face to conceal how smitten I am. "Honestly, I'm surprised you'd even consider it."

His chewing slows and he frowns at me. "Why not?"

"I didn't think that, um…the fact that I don't align myself with womanhood was something I guessed wouldn't be attractive to you."

Everett swallows his bite and spears his next one without a hint of a second thought. "This is an incredibly new courtship, Devin. Feelings may change over time…some from you, and some from me. You won't be the same person ten years from now, you may not even be the same person ten minutes from now. Neither will I. A relationship could be the wrong move for us in the long run…though I suppose I'd like to give it a try," he added with sincerity. "You could find yourself embracing your womanhood eventually. Or you could disavow it altogether. None of it matters. All I can say with utmost confidence is that the most attractive thing about you is you."

I'm stunned. "Really?"

He looks for a second like he could reach across the table and shake the nonsense out of me. "Sweetheart…I am unsure about a lot of things, but this is not one of them."

My insides feel like they've been baked in a ten thousand degree fire and I'm floored. No one in the history of my life has ever said anything like that to me before…and to a point, I'm overwhelmed. Here's someone willing to ignore what I'd thought for years was a failing. Someone I feel more myself around than anyone else I've met dating back to when I was little. Someone who embraces not only the fact that I am a child of two worlds and the tribulations that come with it but the person I am in my heart, and is apparently willing to embrace the changes to himself as a result.

We sit with our knees almost touching under the table and I realize that I'm watching myself fall in love with him.

[nationalharryleague]

In the Long Green Grass

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: the fluffiest fluff with husband!harry  

Word count: 2K

A/N: Hi everyone!! Merry Christmas to all that celebrate!! this is my Secret Santa (run and organized by the lovely lu (@meetmymouth​) gift to the sweetest angel who walks among us miss hasibi (@peachybloomss​)!!! I hope you enjoy it my love!!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what everyone thinks in my ask! Thank you so much for reading!! 

*** 

You were stirred by the sounds of the waves crashing against the cliff outside the home as the early morning sun streamed in through the windows. A small huf and whine left your lips, always one to ask for just five more minutes in bed, before you climbed from underneath the warm plush blankets and your toes hit the icy and worn wood floors beneath you.

The buttery yellow sunlight thwarted your plans to fight yourself back to sleep for those last few moments, prompting you to reach out your arms in a longing stretch. You released a light and sleepy hum of surprise when your arm hit a tiny furry body, and not the arm of the man who loved to sleep late in the bed beside you. Peeping one eye open, you made eye contact with Piper, Harry’s small jet black cat with glowing green eyes who was laying next to you, curled up on sheets that still held the indent of his body in them.

Piper wore a face of annoyance, obviously blaming you for interrupting her precious beauty sleep, and her eyes followed your body as you forced yourself out of the bed with one goal: find Harry.

Harry had a habit of disappearing, especially in a new place where there was just so much to explore. He was a wanderer (and an aquarius); always on the move, carried along by a thought or idea he just couldn’t resist. It was hard for him to sit still, a trait he probably picked up after tour after tour after tour, never allowing himself the luxury of rest or relaxation after it was never allowed to him. That was why you had insisted he needed time away from the city, finding a perfect spot in a small cottage that sat on the edge of a cliff along the ocean with a back garden full of sweet smelling flowers and tall cushony grass.

You tiptoed carefully down the spiral staircase that lovingly let out groans underfoot, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, into a kitchen that looked straight out of a fairytale. It was small with moss green cabinets and large bay windows that filled the space with light that kept the seemingly hundreds of plants in the house happy and thriving. A cool ocean breeze came in through the open windows of the small breakfast nook, bringing along the scent of a fresh pot of coffee that sat on the butcher block countertops like it had been waiting for you to wake all along. While you felt a jump of excitement within you for the coffee, it still hadn’t been what (or who) you were looking for, even though you were very glad you found it.

A sweet cup of coffee was thoughtfully prepared in a tea cup you had found in the cabinet with small wisteria flowers painted around it’s rim. You knew Harry would poke fun at your cup choice if he were there. “Tea cups are for tea,” you could hear him say, perking up the edges of your mouth into a gentle smile as you sipped it carefully. But the flowers reminded you of the beautiful wisteria tree that flowed in the wind and scattered it’s petals all over the back garden; you just couldn’t pass it up.

It took you quite a while to find him, even with the new found caffeinated energy running through your system. You had run into the two other cats at the house, both rather chubby tabbys named Jack and Gus, that called this back garden home on your search and you obviously had to say good morning. The two rubbed themselves up against your legs, begging for a scratch behind the ear and a bit of attention, and you obliged. Who were you to deny them of it?

The garden the cats got to call home was a dream. It was filled with every variety of colorful flower imaginable and blanketed in a sweet air that always hovered over the space. Your favorites were the small peachy blooms that smelled of sugary perfume. A stone fence ran the perimeter of the yard, a white picket fence in the middle opening to a swath of overgrown grass that swayed in the wind on a hill. If you squinted, you could see the house of the couple you were renting the cottage from, but they were far enough away it felt like you were the only people around for miles.

When you spotted a Harry-shaped hole in the tall grass up the hill, you had a sneaking suspicion you had found your missing husband.

The tall grass squished beneath your feet as you climbed the hill, creating a soft padding below, and the long blades tickled against your bare legs as you made your way towards him, still only dressed in one of his perfectly worn t-shirts from the night before.

“There you are,” you hummed happily when you reached him, standing above him as he layed in the grass. “I thought that I lost you.”

He looked like a renaissance painting as he laid in the grass that was dotted with small pink and purple wildflowers. His curls had gotten a little longer during his much needed break and they splayed out around his head in delicate ringlets like a halo. The light from the still rising sun bounced off his slightly dewy skin, giving him a glow that lit him up even more than usual. Stubble danced across his cheeks and jaw, framing his perfectly pink lips that held a gentle smile as he looked up at you from the ground. And his eyes squinted slightly, shielding his pupils from the ever growing brightness of the sky, creating delicate little wrinkles around his sea glass green eyes that looked so vibrant in the light.

A worn book that you hadn’t seen before, bound in dark green leather with gold detailing, sat on his chest; Poems for Lovers: A Collection was embossed delicately across the cover.

“You’ll never lose me,” he mumbled up at you, a gravel in his voice like it was the first time he had used it that day. You had been married for almost two years and had been together for five, but your cheeks never failed to redden when he spoke sweet nothings like that. “Good morning, angel,” he said softly, reaching his hand up for yours.

You moved to place your hand in his, but ended up only linking your pinkies together in the process; a light tug from the man below you signaled for you to join him on the ground. You couldn’t resist, sitting yourself down with your legs crossed in front of you on the slightly damp ground next to him, pinkies still locked together.

“Morning,” you greeted. “I missed you in bed. Piper isn’t much of a cuddler,” you chuckled while absentmindedly playing with his fingers, twirling his wedding band.

“She’s not very nice, is she?” he smiled, opening his eyes fully to meet yours as you strategically moved your body to block his delicate eyes from the sun. “I’m sorry my cat’s a bitch,” he joked. “She still thinks she’s my number one girl.”

“I tell her I’m sorry that I stole her spot in bed all the time, she never listens. Won’t even have a civil chat with me about it,” you teased sarcastically.

Harry let out an enthusiastic giggle at your words; it was high pitched, and came from his belly in loud bursts of air. His cheeks scrunched up and forced his eyes closed because he was smiling so wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes once again. His laughter was infectious and you couldn’t help but join in.

You two must have looked insane, sitting in the grass in a field in the middle of nowhere just after dawn, laughing like idiots. But you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Well, a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t have hurt.

As your gigges died down, you turned your attention to the book resting on his chest. “You ditched me in bed for a book?” you teased, letting the remaining laughter escape your body.

“I couldn’t sleep and I found it on one of the bookshelves. I thought it would be nice to read in the grass and watch the sun come up.”

“You should have woken me up. I could have thought of a few things we could have done to tire you out.” A smirk played on your lips as you tapped your chin, pretending to think, as you watched his eyes grow in amusement from your innuendo.

“You looked too peaceful sleeping. Also, drool and bedhead don’t really turn me on if I’m being honest.” It was your turn to react to his teasing.

Your jaw dropped in feigned offence and your finger flew over your shoulder to point back at the cottage. “I can go back if you’d like your privacy,” you said incredulously and with dramatics, until a few chuckles broke through and your resolve softened once again.

“Oh no no no,” he spoke with a grin, “come here,” moving the book and tapping his chest for you to rest your head on. You turned yourself around to lay yourself on the ground, placing your head on his chest and listening to his steady and calming heartbeat.

“How are your poems?” you asked, referencing the book he was now holding in his hands.

“They are very good. I’m glad I found it.” His voice reverberated under your head as he spoke, and you rose and fell softly with his breath.

“Read me your favorite.”

“Okay,” he began, thumbing through the pages as he held the book above both your heads. You listened as he let out a small “ah, here it is,” before he dramatically cleared his throat. “You might remember me talking about this one already, but I love it.”

You knew he loved it before he even began reading anything. He loved his poetry, especially when they were about love. Harry was a hopeless romantic at heart, often saying to you and interviewers “I just love love.” He loved falling in love with you and becoming a team, just as much as you did with him.

“It’s called The Wait,” he spoke gently, his voice taking on a deeper and more enunciated quality. You recognized the poem immediately, as it was the one referenced on his pants for the Vogue cover shoot. He had dedicated it to you then, and was doing it again now in the grass. “It seemed like years before I picked a bouquet of kisses off her mouth and put them into a dawn-colored vase in my heart,” he began. He spoke slowly and smoothly with the consistency and sweetness of honey. “But the wait was worth it,” he continued. “Because I was in love.”

You couldn’t help but think of your own story as he read. He had chased after you for years, with you always insisting that he was your best friend and you were afraid to ruin that. But gradually, your best friend became your lover, and your lover became your husband.

“I like that one a lot too.” You spoke softly and with reflection. “It reminds me of us.”

“That’s why it’s my favorite.”

You two layed in the grass for hours, not a care in the world, as he read from the book. Every poem took you two on a journey into a love story, one that for the two of you only existed on the page, but told of a very real love that couldn’t have been dishonestly written.

But with how you felt in the moment, with the joy and loving warmth you felt in your belly, you were sure you could write a million poems about the love you had with him.

Thank you so much for reading!! Reblogs/feedback mean the world!!! 

[certified-dumbass02]

Alright yall, this is my first crack at an xreader or second person ficlet. I never actually felt the desire to read any until I saw Black Widow and fell in love at first sight with Yelena (self-explanatory). I don’t think I ever would have tried this but I was inspired by the lovely @peachbear88 and the song Clouds by Borns.

Let me know what y’all think

~*~

Clouds

Clouds

“Lena! Let’s go watch clouds!” You shout excitedly, bouncing up and down on your toes as you poke at the lump under the covers. A soft groan emanates as a blonde head pops out from her cocoon, blankets clinging to the top of her wild bed head like a nun’s habit.

Bleary green eyes squint at you as her face pinches up in an adorable yawn, and for an instant, you almost feel bad for waking her early on a weekend when she usually sleeps in. Almost.

You know Yelena, when she’s fully alert, has an active imagination that relishes its chances to run wild. Her mind works a mile a minute, and her watchful eyes catch everything with the excitement of a child and the experience of a worldly woman. It’s one of the many things you love about her. This activity is right up her alley, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

“Clouds? Is that a show?” Her accent is thicker and her voice rougher from sleep, so you grin at her and pat her head fondly as you sit on the bed next to her. She grunts, mumbles something about not being a cat, but leans into your hand as you smooth her hair down anyways.

“Not a show. It’s where you lay in the grass, look at the clouds, and try to see if you can interpret any shapes out of them.”

She frowns slightly. “Isn’t it supposed to rain today?”

“No! It’s the perfect day to go to the park. So sunny.”

A delicate blond brow quirks up, and you find yourself wondering how someone with sleep crust still in her eyes can look so devastatingly beautiful. “If it’s sunny, there won’t be clouds to watch, no?”

Yelena’s long eyelashes flutter against the back of your hand as you wipe the crust away adoringly. “Partly cloudy. But still sunny, so no rain.”

She smiles at you, soft in the light streaming through the window, and nods. “Alright, let’s go watch the clouds.”

~*~

The blanket beneath you is soft beneath your back, the sun warm on your face, and the smell of fresh cut grass fills the air as you lie in the park with Yelena, watching clouds.

As predicted, she’s taken to it like a duck to water.

“That one! That one right there!” She points excitedly, hand jutting up in the air in front of you. “It’s clearly a grenade launcher!”

You open your mouth to protest, but no sound comes at as you squint further at the cloud, because hey that actually does kind of look like that grenade launcher Yelena brought home that one time and giddily mounted on the-

“And that one is most definitely a ladybug,” she points at a different one, closer to her side.

Your face breaks into a smile. Yelena’s imagination is stretched so far to accommodate all she is and all she’s learned in her life; the way her mind works has you looking fondly at her in wonder and awe.

You recover yourself and your bearings before she notices you staring. “That one is a swan.”

She cocks her head slightly at you and frowns. “It can’t be a swan. Look at that spot of cloud up near its head - it doesn’t belong.”

“Ahh but my dear,” you tut, bopping her nose lightly as she giggles. “That spot is a trumpet for our dear bird.”

She grins in delight as she understands. “Like the Trumpet and the Swan!”

You nod at her with an answering smile and hum you agreement. Yelena had found that book on one of your bookstore adventures and had, perhaps surprisingly, adored it. Her copy is still proudly on the nightstand beside the bed at home.

After the swan cloud, the two of you continue gazing, with the suggestions becoming progressively more ridiculous as the afternoon wears on.

A juggling clown. An exact imitation of the country of Vietnam. An elephant on a unicycle. A World War 2 tank. A sickle and hammer, as you eye her with a smirk and she shoves you playfully with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

Maybe, it is that shove that knocks your sense out of you.

Maybe it’s the way the sun glances off her golden hair and lights up her blazing green eyes. Maybe it’s the fact that her smile fills your chest with air at the same time it knocks it out of you. Or maybe, it’s because it’s been on the tip of your tongue for months now and you just don’t see the point in shutting your mouth any longer - was there ever really a point?

Whatever the reason, it comes bubbling out of you, and you open your mouth anxious and eager and praying you don’t stutter or trip over your words because you want it to be right. Yelena deserves right.

“Hmm,” you hum, looking at her from the side of your eye. “I think that one looks like my future.”

She frowns slightly, brow furrowing in confusion as she turns her head to squint at you. “What?”

You grin, feeling more confident now, because of course this is exactly what you want to be doing, who you want to be doing it with. “That one looks like my future.”

“The dark, shapeless blob is your future? Doesn’t seem very promising.” She tuts in that blunt, sarcastic way of hers.

You’re turned fully on you side now, facing her as she turns to face you, and her smart mouth has you burst out in raucous laughter, like it always does.

“You’re not even looking at the clouds! How can you say one looks like your future? What does a future even look like?!” She splutters in indignation as you start sucking in breaths in between cackles. Yelena tries to glare sternly at you, to no avail. She is a deadly, dangerous woman, but she couldn’t intimidate you if she wanted to - and she would never, ever want to.

Deciding to abandon her half-hearted glower, she proceeds to sulk cutely.

It’s this pout finally calms you, and you smile. It’s maybe the softest smile you’ve ever done, and this is definitely the softest you’ve ever been, but somehow it feels like you’ve done this before. It doesn’t feel scary, or overwhelming even if this is new to you, because it feels like you’ve loved Yelena your whole life.

“You’re right. I wasn’t looking at the clouds,” you say, letting it hang suspended in the air for a moment so you can fully relish the second it clicks for her. You see exactly when it does; her green eyes widen and her cheeks bloom a pretty, dusty pink as your smile grows impossibly larger and softer. “You. You look like my future, Yelena Belova.”

For an instant, it seems like she truly believes you - she flushes deeper than you’ve ever seen. The next instant it changes, like she wants to believe you, but a battle rages in her eyes between the faithful and the skeptical. The instant after that, she shakes her head almost imperceptibly, mouth pursing and she scoffs, laughing you off.

You see it for what it is. Her sound is dismissive, not out of apathy, but out of fear. Her eyes roll, but snap back to you, practically begging you to be sincere - to mean it, because for some ungodly reason no one else has. Cagey as she is, she will never ask for it aloud.

Yelena very carefully gives you an out; it’s as much to protect her as it is to protect you. You could join her, laugh it off as a corny joke and avoid this, probably forever, or you could stay and embrace it.

As if you could ever do anything but stay.

You reach out a hand, setting it down in the grass half the distance to her stiff, rigid body. Almost automatically, Yelena reaches out with her own, and as you twine your fingers together, you see the tension melt from her form.

“I mean it, Lena. Anytime I try to think about my future, all I see is your face over and over. It’s like I was sleepwalking before I met you, but then you woke me up,” you whisper gently, because these kinds of soul-bearing words are made for quiet, intimate murmurs, not loud, boisterous declarations. “A life without you would be no life at all.”

The blonde beauty you’ve found yourself enamored with inhales sharply, like you’ve hit her in the gut. The green eyes you associate with warmth, with laughter, with home, flicker with hope, but still, she seems conflicted.

Hoping to finally put her mind at ease, you squeeze her hand and smile again. “I love you, Yelena. I don’t want anything, or anyone, but you. I want to go wherever you go, then come home together to a closet full of pocketed vests and flannel and a whole pack of dogs. Nothing else could compare.”

Immediately, it’s like a damn breaks. She swiftly launches herself at you, burying her face in your neck and nuzzling the pulse there. If you feel wetness on your skin as she mumbles out an “I love you too,” you don’t mention it. Instead, you grip her tighter, warmth from her body and her words seeping into your bones like molasses.

You two lie there for sometime, love admissions pouring from you both like free-flowing wine. Eventually, she settles her head over your heart as you rest your chin on blonde hair.

“So what do you say, Lena? Will you be my future for forever?” You ask, running the pads of your fingers lightly over her knuckles.

She grabs your hand, kisses your palm simply. “Yes.”

You can feel the ghost of her smiling lips still on your palm, so you bring your twined hands up to your own grin and buss her wrist and the knuckles you’d mapped out earlier. “Even if it means being dragged out to watch clouds with me?”

Yelena turns then, humming in faux consideration. “The activity could grow on me in time. Not unlike you,” she pauses for a moment and then smirks devilishly. “Or a rash.”

You bark out a laugh. “Wow, comparing me to a rash? We’re off to a great start.”

You watch as green eyes roll, knowing and happily expecting to see as much for the rest of your life. “Well, you proposed by comparing me to a fat rain cloud,” she shrugs. “I think we’re even.”

“It’s not a rain cloud! It’s a perfectly normal cloud - and hey! I wasn’t even looking at that cloud, remember?”

“It absolutely is a rain cloud. You implied I was large, amorphous, and filled with liquid, liable to ruin outdoor sporting events and the days of small children by pissing all over them.”

“I so did not! And it isn’t going to rain!”

“Yes it is.”

~*~

It rained.

Smiling into your kisses with Yelena’s warm hands on your neck, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

[yeojaa]

stages: rise (with me).

[ read part one ] 

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  mature.  tags.  alluded/referenced drug use (please be responsible).  they take an innocent shower together.  wc.  1.7k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​ @coepiteamare​ i love y’all.  author note.  jungkook’s rave journey continues. 🤠  soundtrack.  songs to comedown to:  hold me close (climax).

They say you never forget your first time.  They’d be right.

You haven’t left Jungkook’s mind - framed perfectly in the centre of his thoughts, lovely with your star-speckled cheeks, the glitter in your hair.  Mona Lisa but so much more, printed to the backs of his eyelids, picture perfect in neon light and stardust.  He misses you often, despite the fact he always sees you at things like this.  Spies you dancing in a kaleidoscope of colour, made glow-in-the-dark by the appliques on your chest, the rubber toe of your sneakers.  You move as if the music lives in you, as if there’s nothing in the world but the melody. 

It’s easy to get lost in the sway of your hips, the rhythm of your body when the stage erupts in colour and the bass drops.  It captures all of his attention, has him staring like a fool in love, utterly unable to do anything but stop and admire.

God, you’re beautiful.  

His heart stutters in his chest, nearly falling out of the cavity when you catch him in the act, raise a hand and offer the sweetest wave.

There’s a sea of people between you - two dozen writhing bodies - and all he can see is you.  The shape of your smile when he returns the gesture, palms sweaty, pulse racing like a thunderclap.  How the simple expression feels like an explosion of stardust, illuminating everything around you.  (It’s definitely not just the light show.  It’s all you.)

He wonders whether it’ll always be like this - whether the pieces of you will forever be wedged into his heart, little splinters of affection built up like scar tissue.  Whether they’ll ache on days like today, where you’re too far and he’s left to orbit you, caught in your gravitational pull with no hope of escape.  If the scent of strawberries and sugar will remind him of you until he’s old and grey, still hung up on the pretty girl that’d saved him from a meltdown, because no one’s ever felt the way you do. 

“Kook, you good?”  He hears the question, feels the words bounce around in his skull.  Everything’s clearer than it was that first time.  His head’s not under water and he’s not drowning.

(But he wouldn’t mind if it was your voice that called him to sea.  He’d wade a hundred, thousand, million miles for you.  Get swept away by the waves just to hear your voice once more.  It’d be a good way to go.  The best, he thinks.)

“Y-yeah?”  There’s still a haze - a faint fuzziness at the edges of his conscience.  Cotton candy floss that spins everything in circles, sugar-spun particles aching his jaw when he zones out just a little too much, knuckles blown white, water bottle in his hand eviscerated. 

It takes a concerted effort to refocus his attention.  He wants so badly to keep watching, admiring, wanting.

Mischief is palpable, three heavy lines of red striking through syllables.  A new challenger appears in the form of another bottle, lidless and so close it makes Jungkook’s jaw ache in anticipation.  “Want some more?” 

Did he?  Of course.  He can’t have the thing he’s been craving for months;  this will have to do.

“Careful, baby boy.”  You’re suddenly there, right in front of him.  So close he could touch you, smelling like berries and cream and smiling brighter than the sun.  (He swears he might go blind, doesn’t mind when the rays are so warm.)

All at once, he’s shaking all over, limbs loose, foot bouncing.  Stop it, he tells himself, worries for the state of his joints because he thinks he might topple over any minute now.  That there’s nothing he can do to save himself from the sound of your laugh, the way your eyes glow with the strobe of the overhead lights.

He remembers how you held his hand last time, laying in the strange bed wrapped up in your arms.  Your voice static in his ears, cotton threads in the quiet, stretching on and on until he’d fallen asleep.  How you hadn’t left, not once, not even when he’d been burning up, white hot heat tearing through him, sweat pouring from his brow.  

You’d stayed all night, soothed the tremor of his bones.  Promised him things would be okay.  And they were.

The ordeal had left him raw and aching and tired, all the weight of the world carried in the bags under his eyes.  A walking skeleton, nothing but a bag of bones when he’d groaned awake, tripped alive out of his slumber.  But you’d put him back together, glued each piece with nothing but honey and molasses, thick and heavy and so sweet.  Cooed a sweet good morning at two in the afternoon, stamped the shape of your tenderness into his skin and melted tension away with just one caramel-coated smile.

“Hi,”  he says, stutters, hoarse as hell.  Eager as hell.  In love as hell.

(He’s never felt like this before.  Not then.  This is better.  You’re not a mirage in the desert, a vibrating silhouette brought to life by a lightshow.  You’re you!  You’re here.)

“How much have you had?”  

Anyone else, it might be condescending.  But not you.  You’re smiling at him still, reaching too, and he thinks he’s okay - that he’s in control this time.  Realises he’s wrong when he’s leaning too close, falling into the small of your palm, laughing along with you when he nearly topples you both over.

You smell like strawberries and home;  he inhales like you’re spring.

“Not as much as last time.”  Which was to say, just enough.  Not so much he’s a mess, unable to control the rattle of his teeth or the tingling in his fingers.  One cap.  A double.  Nothing outrageous.  Jungkook was smart this time - had finally learned his lesson.

But god, if he doesn’t want to be back where he was that first time with you.  Out of his mind, held together by your touch, seams strung tight by your hands.  That’d be better.

“Good boy.”  Your voice is all of his favourite songs, twinkling in his ears, making his head spin.  It’s all he hears.  The thing in his chest wobbles uncertainly and then so do his knees;  you catch him against your side, hold him together with fingers along his side, fingers replacing the rungs of his ribs.  

He hopes you’ll stay.

It’s easy to get lost in you, distracted by your hand in his, the shade of your smile when you look over your shoulder.  How you fit in his arms, settled like a familiar weight in his lap, curled against his chest.  He’s burning up again - a furnace on a summer night, beaded in sweat and hair sticky.  You don’t care.  You cling to him, run your fingers through his hair.

He swears he’s falling in love, giddy, over the moon, high in the sky with no hopes of coming down.

(But he is.  He can feel the slow-coming clarity, the tremor that dies to a bare tremble when you’re close by.  Your presence medicates him and he doesn’t mind;  you’re angel food cake and lemon tart, not sickly sweet syrup.)

When you guide him into the bathroom, lights off, bumbling about in the dark, it doesn’t matter.  You’re lit up in every colour of the rainbow, Polaris centred in your chest, guiding him home.  He follows without hesitation, crowds you against the sink and giggles to himself when you comb through the sweat-slick tangle plastered to his forehead.

He’s burning up but you cool him down, soothe the ache in his chest when it stutters again and cries out for you.  A salve for his wounds - all the things he doesn’t think about, that sit just beneath the surface and beg for attention.

“Are you okay?”  You ask and he’s barely paying attention to the words, every ounce of focus where it should be:  on you and all your glory.  Each sliver of skin that reveals itself in the darkness.  So pretty he could cry, so soft he swears he’s got velvet in his hands and not your hips.  Picture perfect.  

He says yes but he means no, because how can he be okay when he’s with you.  When you’re pulling him into the glass-walled shower, warm despite the cold water, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle.  When you push his hair back and coo a noise that hits him twice - once in the gut and once smack dab in the centre of his chest.  When you’re working out the knots, untangling all the fucked up parts of him with the gentlest motions.  

(Of course Jungkook’s thinking too much, putting too much meaning into how careful you hold him, cradle him like precious glass, unafraid of the broken edges.)

(He can’t help it, though.  Can’t can’t can’t.)

(Wants you too much, wants this too much.  God, save him.)

“Relax,”  you tell him, saccharine and safe, kissing him like you need him just as badly.  There’s a fire lit in the bottom of his chest, a roaring inferno he has no control over.  It dissolves every part of him, turns him to jelly as he melts against you and takes everything you’ll give.

Please, he thinks.

He hasn’t said the words out loud - too afraid, scared of what might come if they slip past his cage of teeth - but you answer all the same, hold him closer, assure him with measured strokes of your hands over the uncertainty he wears like armour.  Sweep it from his shoulders with twists of your fingers and an adoring laugh.  Make him vulnerable and weak and and and—

He doesn’t care.  

Maybe it’s the comedown or maybe it’s you.  It cracks his rib cage in half, splits him wide open, and he doesn’t think twice when you reach in, settle alongside his heart, and make a home. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​​ @outrofenty​ 

[need-a-fugue]

Trustworthy (Chapter 3)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Does fluff warrant a warning? Well, before we get into the gritty mission, here be some fluffy fluff. Oh, and language. Because I speak that shit.

Thursday came sooner than anticipated, and with it came that awful rush of dread that enveloped you each and every time you set foot in an airport. You’d think you’d be over this by now, your job shuttling you off to the far corners of the Earth, making it so that the only way you could ever get to where you needed to be – Bogota, Juarez, Islamabad, home – was by plane. But… no. The fear of plummeting to an inevitably fiery death inside a giant can filled with the recycled breath of dozens – even hundreds – of strangers was one you were simply never going to get over.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding,” Benny barks out amid a thunderous laugh as he watches you down another pill and chase it with a tiny bottle of vodka. “Is it even safe to take Xanax with alcohol?” he asks, his face screwing up in confusion, a hint of concern breaking through the amusement. “Are you so scared of flying that you’re willing to risk an OD?”

“Seems strange, given your profession,” Tom mutters as he sidesteps Ben to slide into the row of seats behind you.

You offer no reply, instead blinking your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the awful activity of preparing for takeoff. The doors haven’t even closed yet, people still steadily boarding the plane, your new teammates still stowing bags and chatting merrily around you, and yet you’ve already buckled in, pulled the lap belt as tight as it will go, and downed your second Xanax in an hour.

“She’ll be alright,” you hear from above. You crack open a single eye and look up to see Santiago looming over the back of your seat. “Fish,” he calls out, tossing a quick glance at the man still struggling with fitting everything into the overhead compartment. “You sit with her. Tell her about all the times you’ve flown. Keep her calm.”

“I’m calm,” you mumble under your breath.

He looks down at you and raises a brow, gaze holding yours even as he tells his friend, “And don’t let her pop any more pills.”

“No shit,” Ben chuckles as he steps out into the aisle, relinquishing his seat just as Frankie finally slams shut the door on the overhead bin. “We’ll have to scrape her off the floor otherwise.”

Frankie slides in next to you, the tiny armrest barely allowing for any space between you and the scorching heat radiating off of him. Normally you might be okay with that, it certainly felt good in the chilly parking lot the other night. But right now you’re feeling flush and hot and on the verge of possible combustion, the odd suck and click sound of the plane’s door shutting and sealing you in causing a bead of sweat to begin sliding down your temple.

“Truth be told, I’m not too wild about being on flights where I’m not the pilot,” he says, his soft voice pitched perfectly to sound just over the hum of the plane, the new buzzing in your ears, and the sudden woosh of air from the vent that he reaches over to switch on above you.

“Comforting,” you mutter, shutting your eyes against the harsh, dry air blowing down on you, but inclining your head back into the steady, cooling stream just the same.

“Just don’t tell her about how many times you’ve crashed, Fish,” Ben laughs from across the aisle. You bolt upright and crane your neck around the man beside you so as to stare the giggly child down, wide eyes gleaming with a very real threat that actually causes his smirk to break and a subtle, “sorry,” to slip past his lips.

Frankie takes your hand, pries it away from the armrest that you’d been holding in a death grip, and he gives you a little nudge with his elbow, encouraging you to lean back in your seat. “I’ve never crashed,” he corrects, shooting Benny a swift, reprimanding glare before turning back to you. “I’ve just… had a couple of rough landings. But each time everyone walked away fine.”

“Yeah?” you question, critical brow cranking high. “And how often do people walk away from rough landings on a commercial airplane?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Not often,” he admits. “But they also don’t go down often, so there’s that.”

Your eyes blow wide, slight gasp catching in your throat as you eke out, “Are you trying to jinx us?”

He twists in his seat to look at you, his fingers wrapping just a little bit tighter around your hand as you inadvertently shake in his grasp. “Trust me, princesa, this is the least dangerous thing we’re gonna do this week.”

The heady bolt of fear subsides a bit, quickly replaced by a tinge of confusion – princesa? – and a hint of irritation. Your face twists into an overdone pout – “Don’t call me that.” – but you can’t deny that his words do, somehow, put you at ease. Or perhaps the Xanax is just kicking in. Either way, you find yourself settling back into the seat, body and mind both suddenly sluggish and heavy. You twist towards him, away from the window and the blinding glare of the early morning sun as it reflects off the stark white wing of the plane, and you let out a small disgruntled grunt as the too-tight lap belt digs into your hip.

Frankie easily contorts himself in his seat so that he’s able to face you bodily, smiling – perhaps teasing – eyes never disconnecting from yours as he too settles in and reclines his head to the headrest. “Gotta have some kind of callsign over the radio,” he states, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a coy, crooked smile. “You don’t like princesa… how about loquita?”

“Fuck you,” you bark out amid a snort of a laugh, the offended pitch to your voice and wide-eyed stare setting him to very nearly vibrate with stifled giggles.

He takes a moment to swallow down his obvious amusement, holding your gaze all the while. Then he clears his throat and pulls his features into a stern set. “Don’t take it personally. I’d call anyone who hates to fly crazy.”

You issue out a short, incredulous scoff. “Maybe if I were the pilot, I’d like it. If I were in control.”

“Yeah,” he admits with a nod and a sigh. “That helps.”

But the truth is, you don’t actually think it would help that much. Because, well… “What person in their right mind thinks, you know what I’d like to do? I’d like to ignore the fact that God gave me legs instead of wings and I’d like to leave the ground. I mean… the ground is the safe place, man. What are you thinking?”

He smiles over at you, a soft, tender expression that sets off a flutter deep in your core. “What kind of person wants to stay on the ground with everybody else when they can climb into the heavens and move through the clouds?”

You bite back the grin that begs to break out and instead flatten your face in the most deadpan expression you can muster. “Are you fucking with me right now?” He merely shoots a wink in response, the light from outside your window reflecting in his deep brown eyes as they pierce into you. You roll your own eyes, but can just barely hold back the quirk to your lips as you say simply, “You’re the crazy one.”

He lets loose with a soft chuckle and shifts further in his seat so that he’s entirely facing you. “You never wanted to play in the clouds?” he asks, grin pulling wider. You feel a new heat – a welcome and comforting one, not the panicky, dizzying burn from before – blossom inside of you as you notice a single dimple cave in on the side of his stubble-dusted face.

A long sigh escapes you. “I mean, I did watch a lot of Care Bears growing up,” you offer, working to keep your expression still and set. But his smile simply grows and it’s just a breath of a moment before you break and let loose with a beam of your own. “God,” you nearly whine as an airy chuckle spills out of you. “Play in the clouds? You’re so cheesy.”

“Hey, I happen to really like cheese.” He raises a rather serious brow as he asks, tone low and sincere, “Can you imagine what the world would be like without cheese?”

You force a stoic glare, bite back a smile. “It’d be terrible. No nachos or pizza…”

He shakes his head slowly, sadly. “All the macaroni would be naked.”

You release a soft sigh. “One third of those popcorn tins would be empty.”

“Or filled with, I dunno, kale-dusted popcorn or something.”

You snort out a laugh, nose wrinkling in disgust. “What would we eat with tomato soup? Grilled eggplant?”

He shrugs. “What would Green Bay fans wear to the game?”

And again, you laugh, this one full and buoyant. “Poor Wisconsin, their entire economy would collapse.”

“What about the French?” he asks.

And it’s your turn to offer up a shrug. “They’ve still got wine.”

He stares at you for a lingering moment before his eyes flicker just past and out the window. “Maybe it sounds a little cheesy,” he begins, ticking his chin towards you, towards the tiny airplane window behind you. “But look out there and tell me there isn’t a part of you that wants to climb out there right now and bounce through those fluffy little bastards.”

Your brows pull tightly together, a quick flicker of pure shock shooting through you and causing you to whip around so fast that a crack sounds from your spine. Outside the window are, in fact, hordes of white puffy clouds peppering the bright blue sky. “What…?” you choke out, utter confusion lacing the word.

When had you taken off? When had you reached altitude? How had he managed to distract you so effectively as you climbed thousands of miles into the sky in this deathtrap tube?

You stare out the window for a long moment, giving yourself time to breathe, to comprehend. Allowing your fingers – which had just clamped painfully down on Frankie’s hand yet again – to slowly relax and loosen their terrified hold. No, there’s no part of you that wants to go out there and bounce around in the damn clouds. No. Way. In. Hell. But there is a part of you that begins to get lost in the soft, subtle beauty stretching out all around you. It’s still scary as hell. But it’s also… amazing.

Frankie watches as you continue to gaze out at the sprawling sky, bright blue on this beautiful day, a day he’d like nothing more in this world than to be out in, flying through the wide-open sky. Your hand remains wrapped around his, even if the intense grip has slackened. And your shoulders are still nearly pressed to you ears, so tense and taut. But there’s a sort of wonder wrapping about you now too, a look of, if not joy, at least appreciation.

“Los cielos,” he mutters from behind, seemingly to himself, his tone dreamy and airy and full of something like… wonder. You toss a glance over your shoulder and catch the way the sun lights his face as he stares just past you, his eyes fixated on the world beyond. You stare for perhaps a beat too long, not realizing until his gaze slowly shifts from the window to you, catching you in the act. The dimple caves again, wide smile pulling once more as he locks onto your eyes, light laughter bubbling out of him as your gaze pings away in a swift moment of embarrassment. He squeezes your hand, tightening his grip on your fingers for a single, quick, perfect millisecond before he utters, honeyed voice once again carrying more than a hint of teasing, “Cielo.”

Confused, you look back up at him, your brow twisting. But you let out a groan the moment he tenders another wink, the moment you realize that he’s just offered up another ridiculous callsign suggestion. You roll you eyes again, but make no move to pull out of his hold nor turn from his heated gaze. “So much cheese…”

He laughs again, his grin pulling tight as he watches you settle back into your seat with an exhausted sigh. You raise a brow in question, in challenge. And the smirk fades to a stony façade as he gives a single, definitive nod and declares, as though all has been settled, “Cielo.”

000

The flight knocks you for a loop. Less than an hour in, you’re passed out, snoring away on Frankie’s shoulder. You wake at one point to discover a pool of drool leaking from your gaping mouth and soaking through the shoulder of his button down, but you don’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed, nor the grace to apologize. Instead, you lazily swipe at the mess and turn with an incoherent mumble before dropping your heavy head against the cool glass of the window. You’re pretty sure you hear the tinkling of laughter coming from across the aisle – pretty sure that’s the sound that woke you from your drug-induced slumber to begin with – and you can definitely discern the throaty whispers of shut the hell up and you’re an asshole, Ben coming from the man by your side. But you’re too laden with sleep to really process or care.

For the next however many hours, you dream. Dream of bouncing through clouds in a bright blue sky. Dream of slinking through the jungle with strange men by your side. Dream of falling and floating and somehow rising to fly. You sleep and dream – and snore and drool – until an all-too familiar laugh sounds from above, a barking command of, “Hey, get your ass up, agent,” echoing in Santi’s exasperated – yet amused – tone. You blink open your eyes, tilt back your head, and see both him and Tom glaring down at you as they stand – bent awkwardly from the low ceiling of the plane – in the row behind. “Everybody else is already lone gone, bonita. Get your ass off the plane.”

Your brow furrows and your middle finger rises steadily upward, but somehow the rest of your body feels too heavy to move and it takes a kindhearted gentleman in a tattered old ballcap to ease you to your feet and out into the aisle.

“The second one was a mistake,” you mutter wearily as you nearly faceplant into Frankie’s chest.

“Yeah,” comes from behind in an annoyed scoff as Santiago reaches over to collect your bag from beneath the seat. “I’m confiscating your Xanax.”

The ride to the run-down inn and resort – far from the city and cheap as all hell – passes in a blur. But by the time you arrive and check into your little bungalow, you’re feeling, if not refreshed, at least awake.

Everyone agrees to meet up at the tiny restaurant at the edge of the grounds in about twenty minutes, just long enough for a quick rinse and wardrobe change. And somehow you manage to be the first one there, allowing you the opportunity to have a quick chat with the bartender – which results in a free, giant fruity concoction – before settling into a table in the corner. You let out a relaxed sigh and breathe back in the humid jungle air, realizing only in this very moment that a part of you actually missed this place. That a part of you might just think of the Amazon as home. You glance around, take note of your surroundings – as you always do, always have done, even before your law enforcement training – and begin to watch the rather handsy young couple at the bar as they giggle and swoon.

It isn’t long before Benny jogs up behind you and drops into the seat on your right. He sets down a fruity drink that looks suspiciously like yours, making you wonder if the bartender treats all tourists to a free, sugar-fueled beverage and perhaps your flirting earned you nothing at all. But as the others meander in and join you, all with mere sweating bottles of beer in their hands, you decide instead that you and Ben must just be the most special of the bunch.

Of course, that notion begins to chafe once Benny turns to you with a wicked look in his eye and pulls his phone from his pocket, nonchalantly swiping though a parade of terrible photos with an all-too delighted smile. The first few show you passed out on Frankie on the plane, mouth gaping wide as you spill drool into his shirt. “Oh, God!” you gasp, only just now recalling the brief moment of near lucidity from earlier in the day. “You took pictures?!”

You give him a quick slap and try to grab the cell from his hand only to have him rear back and laugh out, “Wait, wait, these are my favorites,” before scrolling through the next dozen or so, each picture showing a steady progression of your drowsy head falling from Will’s shoulder down to his lap as the two of you sat in the back on the drive in from the airport.

“You talk in your sleep,” Will states plainly from across the table, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

You cock your head suspiciously at him, gaze narrowing. “Liar,” you accuse despite knowing full well that it’s true.

The corner of his mouth quirks into a crooked grin. “Something about… sliding down rainbows?”

“Ooooh,” you drawl out, nodding your head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Frankie kept talking to me about Care Bears on the flight in.”

The man to your left takes a steady gulp from his beer, a swallow so huge it makes you think he’d been navigating the desert all day, desperate for a drink. “You were barely conscious for more than five minutes on that flight. You don’t have a clue what I talked to you about.”

“Better not have been anything dirty,” Santiago interjects pointedly.

You turn and pin Frankie down with an intent yet amused stare. “I definitely remember something about playing in the clouds.”

“Naked?” Ben asks as he jostles your other side with his elbow.

“Ahora, eso seria realmente el cielo,” Frankie mutters softly, ducking further beneath the bill of his hat and trying desperately not to laugh as you level him with an astounded glare.

By the time the food comes, your table has managed to outdo the small group of college students in the corner in terms of noise, filling the only partially walled-in establishment with a relaxed sort of banter and the occasional booming laughter. Benny continues his jokes and playful ribbing, eagerly pulling you in to blend with his tightknit group. Will and Frankie both remain mostly quiet, despite their comfortable-looking grins and occasional bursts of laughter.

Tom’s demeanor is similar, perhaps a bit less relaxed, a bit more guarded. Even after claiming to be cool with your presence on this little escapade, he’s anything but warm and welcoming to you. It doesn’t escape your notice that he continues to pull Santi aside to whisper what you can only assume are either covert sweet nothings or – far more likely – mission-related thoughts and plans that he still doesn’t quite trust you with. You shrug it off… it’s fine, really. You’ve had to slip into other cliques and clusters before, wedge yourself into a special operations task force or try to integrate in with local police to gain access to intel. This wasn’t your first rodeo. And frankly, compared to the Federales in Juarez, all of these guys had welcomed you into the fold with wide-open arms.

It isn’t long – or it doesn’t feel like long, anyway – before Santi rises and tells everyone that he’s heading to bed. A shit-eating grin passes over his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, familiar looking pill bottle. He shakes the remaining Xanax around and states simply, “For once, I’m actually gonna sleep great.”

Tom follows hot on his heels after issuing out – in a tone equal parts dad and captain – “We’re up at 0500 and I don’t want any of you to be dragging ass.” Everyone nods their assent, but the moment he and Santi are out the door, Ben promptly buys another round and the four of you who remain settle into a new rhythm that lasts until the tiny restaurant and bar finally shoos you out so they can close for the night.

The lot of you wander the grounds of the inn for a bit after that, indulging in the cool breeze after hours of sweltering heat, and continuing to laugh and talk. But as you make it back to the bungalows, the brothers break away, Ben disappearing into his room without so much as a grunt of goodbye, and Will raising a pointed finger high and telling you and Frankie both to, “Get the hell away from these mosquitos and go get some sleep. Otherwise, Redfly’ll be raining down shit on everyone in the morning.”

But you’re now more awake than you’ve been all day, sated from a too-large dinner and positively sloshing with alcohol, well-rested after your many-hours-long nap during your travels, and you just can’t seem to make yourself shut up, not even once you arrive at your door.

And Frankie seems to welcome it, listening intently as you babble on, filling the gaps with assertions of his own. Now that Ben’s no longer around to monopolize the conversation, you and Frankie develop an easy back and forth, the dialog taking on a soft, steady, even cadence. You talk about everything, the two of you. About Mexico, because you spent nearly four years in different parts of the country, and he still has family in a few of those areas. And you talk about all the places you’ve been, you with your sprawling career and general lust for travel – Road trips are more my thing though… and camping, hiking… Have you ever been through Bryce Cannon? God’s country. – and Frankie with his time in the military and more recent contract work – Yeah, nature’s great and all, but have you walked through the bazars in Marrakesh? Unbelievable. Though I wouldn’t say no to a day of fishing off the Gulf.

You talk about Santiago, each sharing stories of the man who had only just become a trusted colleague and friend for you over these last few years, but had been one of Frankie’s most beloved people for well over a decade. And that leads you into asking about the other guys too, each of whom you find yourself getting to know better and better from even just the few stories he shares as you two recline back into the railing of the bungalow’s small porch. He even manages to get you comfortable enough to share some stories about your own comrades over the years, the good, the bad, and the ugly… and the long-time partner who bled out in your arms following a bust outside of Albuquerque. Though you don’t spend much time on that, eager to move on almost the moment that your partner’s name passes through your lips.

The look on his face, though – as you share those sparse details from that most awful day – tells you immediately that Frankie understands exactly what it’s like to lose a partner, a brother in arms. And while that isn’t a surprise in the least – he had just gotten through telling you that he spent fifteen years in the special forces after all – that knowledge does cause you to feel a whole new pull. It makes you scoot a bit closer, makes you drop your hand easily atop his, your sweaty palm gliding along his warm skin before he reciprocates by slowly turning in your grasp and twining his fingers with yours.

“So,” he breathes out after a moment. “You’ve been out here for… three years?”

You nod, a soft smile blooming as you think about this bizarre and stunning corner of the world. “About that.”

His gaze travels out into the lush jungle located just beyond the row of bungalows, small porchlights illuminating just enough of the canopy to remind you both of where you are. “What’s the city like?” he asks after a beat.

“It’s nice,” you rush out. “Small, relaxed…” Your lips purse together as you think on what to say, how to describe this place that has been your home for three years now. “Lot more tourists than you might think. It’s funny, even the people who live here – in the city at least – a lot of them are transplants from Bogota.” You give a nonchalant shrug – “The streets flood a lot. That’s not always fun.” – and relish the deep chuckle emanating from the man by your side. “There’s a legend about how it got its name,” you say suddenly. “I’ve never really gotten any details about it, but supposedly a Colombian soldier fell in love with an Amerindian woman…”

“Leticia,” he supplies, the name slipping from his tongue in a perfectly accented drawl, falling out into the dark night in a soft, low rumble.

You nod. “And he named the city after her.”

Frankie huffs out a small laugh, a light and airy rumble. His gaze continues to wander, dark eyes shifting along the barely perceivable horizon. “Must’ve been a hell of a lady,” he mutters absently, giving your fingers a squeeze.

You watch him closely, his features soft and relaxed in the low light, the slightest hint of a smile still riding his lips. “Yeah. Must’ve been.”

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

[explorationsoftheid]

I just ran across these on Instagram.

Now I won’t say this is an absolute list but it is interesting. Starting from the top:

I don’t make noises. I want QUIET, and I don’t disturb that quiet.

I have my habits and ways of doing things. I tend to make the same thing for breakfast and take the same thing for lunch. It bugs me to change my routine whether for food, or how we do something, or what the schedule is. At work they changed the test sheet for one of the devices and I was really annoyed that it was different. It wasn’t that the change was bad, just different. Fun Fact, at work I managed to make it my JOB to develop and write procedures for things we do and make.

I like colours and lights. I was fascinated by prisms in school, even made a couple. Give ten year old me a couple of mirrors and a prism and I’d happily spend the afternoon fiddling with them until the sun went down.

Safe Spot? My desk. I work there, watch videos there, eat there, When in doubt that’s my happy place.

Motor Coordination? Don’t make me laugh. I almost gave myself a black eye on the trampoline, with my knee. Dancing is a totally lost cause. I chronically trip going up stairs. I’m continually dropping, tripping or poking myself because I’m just crap when it comes to coordination. On the other hand running was great because I could set up a pattern, a pace, and just keep it going all day. I still work out by running on the treadmill.

I’ve never liked Christmas. I mean starting with taking down all of our perfectly good stuff to put up “holiday” things, knowing full well you have to switch it all back in a month. Then there’s the parties, and the crowds, and well everything. The IDEA of Christmas is fine, but I’m not comfortable with the execution.

Yeah, on my desk I have a lamp with the transformer in the base. It gets warm. I find that I’ll spend a lot of the day with my left hand on the base of the lamp. I like kitties for the same reason. Nothing like warm AND purring.

I’m not so worried about my food touching, I don’t want them to mix, but if a little gravy gets on the peas I’m cool. I do tend to eat each food and then go to the next. (I still eat M&Ms by colour).

Oh yes I used to wear sunglasses all the time outdoors, and sometimes indoors. Less so now because I’ve arranged things to not be so bright.

I used to sit weird a lot. On my foot, sideways with my legs over the arm of the chair, on the floor with my book on the chair. Yeah I did that.

Not much for headphones. Honestly I don’t listen to much music, though that comes and goes. Mostly I keep my workspace as quiet as possibler. At my job I have some of those muff-style hearing protectors. I’ll wear those of the ambient noise level goes up.

Loud noises? See previous answer.

I do like animals. Oddly I’m more fascinated with extinct ones though.

Comfy clothes? Yes, but for me it’s jeans and a three button sport shirt. For a long time I had a series of light, long sleeve cotton jackets. I’d wear them outdoors, indoors, everywhere. When I got my wisdom teeth pulled we went home, and I was still doped up pretty good. My SO put me to bed but I refused to let her take my jeans or jacket off. I woke up a few hours later and asked why I was in bed fully clothed with my jacket and even shoes on. “Don’t go there” was all she said.

I doodle, I draw, I colour, I like it.

Define “plain food?”

I tend to fidget more by bouncing my knee than my hands. I learned early on that was more acceptable than drumming my fingers, or wiggling them, or whatever.

I’ll keep my shoes until they are falling apart before I get new ones. Last time I hit the jackpot. When I went to get new shoes I found the exact same make, model, and style I had gotten two thousand miles away and seven years earlier were still being made. It was almost like I had just cleaned the old ones. That was a happy day.

Yes, I want to touch things. From the pillow on the shelf to the chromed steel wrench in the bin.. But I can hear my mother’s voice in my head, “Look with your eyes, not your hands”. Though I still really want to touch things to understand them. Fortunately my SO is of like mind so we’ll be in somewhere and touch the stuffed animals, or the pillows, or brush the sequinned jacket, or whatever.

And that is an insight into me.

[calumance]

Omg:( maybe mama was away for a few days and when she gets back she comes home to find her sweet boys having fun at the pool🥺🥺

This is on the longer side, I got carried away. I’m sorry 🙈🙈🙈 Enjoy!!! ❤️❤️❤️

        You looked at the board showing all of the flights. This was the third time your flight has been delayed, and you were going on your fifth hour of being at the airport. All you wanted to do was go home and cuddle with your boys. You sighed and ran your hand along the back of your neck as you dug your phone out of your pocket. As you scrolled through your contacts, you moved away from the screen so that other people could look at the status of their flight. The dial tone rang back to you as you waited for Calum to answer. “Hey, love!” Calum seemed excited to hear from you.

        “Hi, darling. They delayed my flight again. I don’t know what’s going on. I’ve been here for so long. I just want to go home.” You ran your hand along your brows and sighed. “I shouldn’t have agreed to go on this trip.” There was an announcement over the loud speaker that you ignored, knowing that your flight wasn’t going to take off for another two hours.

        “But, honey, that trip was good for your career. Remember we talked about this.” You hummed in response and looked at the people passing by you to get to their respective gates.

        Calum was silent for a second, feeling your frustration. “Don’t worry about us. I have everything under control here.” He sounded confident, but it reminded you of all of those Hollywood movies where the husband says they have control, but really they have the exact opposite of control.

        “Do you actually have control, or are you lying to me to make me feel better?” You asked him as a smile spread across your face. The first smile you’ve smiled in about eight hours.

        Calum laughed. “No, I’ve actually got everything under control. You worry about getting home, don’t worry about us. We love you, okay?” His voice was caring, his voice was the only thing you wanted to hear for the rest of your life.

        You looked at the rings on your left hand and spun them in a way that the light hit them just perfectly. A smile stretched across your face, “I love you too, more than you know. I just miss my boys so much.”

        “We miss you too, but we’d rather you get home late and safe than on time and hurt.” You could hear Logan and Aiden playing in the background. It made your heart hurt. You missed them so bad, all you wanted to do was hold them in your arms and kiss them and tell them you loved them, but the airlines had other ideas.

        You bid Calum one last goodbye before hanging up and slowly wandering around the airport in an effort to waste more time. You ended up buying things you know you didn’t need, but you were bored, and you were mad. You were mad that you could be home right now, you were mad that you could’ve said no to this trip. But, here you are, stuck in in airport for seven hours buying things that you would probably end up getting rid of in a year or two.

        As you sat in a seat by the gate, you shoved all of your impulse buys into your bag and leaned back. Finally, the boarding for your flight was announced. As soon as your group was asked to board, you jumped up and practically ran to the front of the line. You had thought that once you were on the flight that you would start to feel less anxious, but as you sank down into your seat, the weight on your chest never lifted. As you waited for the plane to finish boarding you texted Calum: “Just got on the plane, everything still good at home?” The message sent, and you looked at the window, watching the baggage handlers load the plane. You always like to watch them, make sure your luggage actually made it on the plane.

        Your phone buzzed in your hands and you looked away from the baggage handlers and at your phone. “Everything is fine here, glad you’re going to be home soon. I love you, have a safe flight.” You smiled at the message. Calum was hands down the most amazing person you knew. He knew exactly what to say and do even when you didn’t. He was without a doubt your seconds half, and that was why you just wanted to get home to him.

        When you looked out the window, the baggage handlers were pulling the conveyor belt away from the plane. You pulled your eyebrows together and started to feel a pang of anxiety in your chest not having seen your bags get loaded into the plane. You tapped the screen of your phone, playing it off as nothing, they probably loaded it while you were reading Calum’s message. You sat back in your seat, putting your phone in your lap and tried everything in your power to relax.

        The plane landed through an intense amount of turbulence. There was a heavy thunderstorm a few miles outside of Los Angeles, so landing was absolutely horrific. Out of all the flights you’ve been on, that was by far the worst. Once the plane touched solid ground, you let go of the arm rests and shook out your hands. The sky in Los Angeles was absolutely clear, the sun was out, and from what you could tell, it was hot as hell. It made you smile, it meant that once you got home, you could hang around the pool with your boys.

        As you got off the plane, you nearly ran towards baggage claim. You bounced on the balls of your feet as you waited for your luggage to make its way on to the carousel. Before you knew it, almost everyone from your flight had left, there was only a handful of people still standing around. Most of them with the same confused expression as yours. You were about to walk away to get some answers when someone from the airport came out, announcing that there was a cart of luggage at the previous airport that had been missed, so the luggage would not get here until the following day.

        Your heart pounded, because, still, all you wanted to do was get home and hug all of your boys. The agent pulled everyone who was missing their luggage into the customer service area and started helping each person one by one. As you stood off to the side you texted Calum. “I landed about a half hour ago, but my luggage is still in Chicago. Going to get this sorted out an then I’ll be on my way home.” You slid your phone back into your pocket as you waited for your turn to talk to the agent.

        Since you were home, you opted to have your luggage shipped to you. There wasn’t anything in there so important that you needed it absolutely right now. What you needed absolutely right now was to go the fuck home. Once you had your luggage situation sorted out, you took the first shuttle out to the long term parking lot that you find. It felt amazing sitting in your own car, and the thought of crying passed through your mind, but instead, you held it together and drove as quickly as you could home.

        When you got home, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. The sun was still up, it was still hot as hell, and all you could think of doing was striping down and diving into the pool. You walked through the front door and dropped your bag on the floor. You looked around hoping to see all of your boys hanging out in the living room. Instead, you found all three of them hanging out in the pool. Aiden was in the pool wearing a black bucket hat, exactly like the one Calum always wore, and a pair of green pool floaties. You pulled your eyebrows together wondering why he was wearing those when you knew Aiden learned how to swim a couple of years ago. Logan was standing on the edge of the pool, also wearing a black bucket hat and green pool floaties eagerly waiting to jump into the pool. Calum was in the water, Aiden just a few feet behind him. Calum was wearing the same black bucket hat and was holding his arms out waiting for Logan to jump.

        Your heart melted into a puddle at the bottom of your chest. You quietly opened the back door and stepped into the back yard. “I promise I’ll catch you, come on Logan.” Logan hesitated and then finally jumped in, laughing hysterically once he knew Calum had him. All three boys looked up at the same time and caught sight of you.

        Logan and Aiden scrambled to the sides of the pool. “Mom!” They yelled out. You hurried to the edge of the pool to help them out so you could scoop them into your arms. It was the least of your worries that they were wet, and now you were wet. They latched onto you and you held them as tightly as you could. Their love being exactly what you needed after the day you just had. Finally, they let go of you and jumped back into the pool.

        You looked at Calum as you sat on the edge of the pool and you reached forward to cup his face. He pushed himself out of the water just enough to press his lips to yours. As he pulled away you kept your hand on either side of his face. “Why is Aiden wearing the floaties that barely fit him? He knows how to swim, you know.” You laughed.

        Calum shrugged, “I know, but you can never be too sure. I missed you so much.” He said grabbing onto your thighs and pulling you closer to him. As your lips met his, you smiled against his lips. You were never going on another business trip ever again.

************

Tag list: @mantlereid @notinthesameguey @viiirg0 @wheniminouterspace @thinkofmehlgh @another-lonely-heart @limer-encia @itsmytimetoodream @babyoria

[what-if-i-imagine]

Hey darling, do you think you could do a DamiJon one shot with the sentence starter "Are we on a date right now?" Where Damian is very oblivious to his and Jon's feelings and doesn't understand crushes/love much to Jon's frustration?

Sorry This took so long! It doesn’t exactly match up with the last pat of the prompt, but here you go!

It was a sunny day, as was the usual for the bright and busy city of Metropolis, and Damian swore he was the only one for miles who was not enjoying the lack of cloud cover and gloomy weather. Everyone they passed by on the streets wore blinding smiles and talked with too much enthusiasm for a Monday afternoon. People waved at strangers and stopped for street performers, and in general acted as the Utopian image of city life.

Damian almost found himself missing the dark and very real streets of Gotham. Almost.

Of course,  that didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying the day so far.

At that particular moment, he was walking down a sidewalk with a certain Kryptonian boy who was laughing far too hard for someone who hadn’t been told a joke.

“The acting was unrealistic, the CGI was terrible and the props and costumes were the work of anmitures,” Damian persisted, still hung up on the awful movie they had gotten out of half an hour before. It had been the newest installment in the Sunrise series, and it was so bad Damian would have been at a loss for words if he were forced to watch just five more minutes.

He had only gone to see it in the first place because Jon had loved the first movie and he, Raven and Todd had all loved the books. If the books were anything like the movie had been, Damian would have to have a serious talk with his friends and brother about their taste in media.

“Stop laughing, I’m serious,” Damian huffed, but despite his annoyance he was fighting a smile of his own.

“It’s good bad,” Jon said through his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes and clutching his side.

“That wasn’t ‘good bad’ it was a disgrace to all of cinema!” Damian scoffed. “I knew you were tasteless, but I had no clue it was this atrocious.”

“You just aren’t getting it because you’re taking it too seriously,” Jon insisted. “If you stop looking at it as an actual romance and look at it from a comedic angle, it’s the best thing ever.”

“The protagonist was bland, her love interests behaviors were unrealistic, and the message of the story is disgusting,” Damian continued to list off the movie’s flaws.

“Damian, stop for one second,” Jon said, finally freed of his laughter. “Remember, we aren’t the intended audience. The intended audience is teenage girls. It wasn’t meant for a message, it was meant for escapism and wish fulfillment for its intended audience. When you keep that in mind, it’s an absolute masterpiece.”

“Tt, whatever you say farm boy,” Damian rolled his eyes. He checked his watch while Jon laughed a little more. “We still have three hours before we have to meet Drake and the Clone.”

“Perfect,” Jon bounced. “That means we have time to stop by the arcade, sweets shop and my favorite cafe!”

“If you insist,” Damian sighed.

“Don’t be like that, I’ve had this day planned for weeks!” Jon whined, tugging on his arm. “I even did extra chores this week so we would have enough money.

“You could have just asked me to bring my wallet,” Damian said.

“Nu-uh, there is no way I’m letting you pay for our first outing together,” Jon shook his head.

“This isn’t our first-” Damian was quickly cut off as Jon pulled him into the arcade, his super speed and strength slipping ever so slightly so that he had to rub his arm and catch his breath afterwards. By the time he regained his balance, Jon had rushed over to the coin machine and was feeding in a twenty he had earned from mowing the lawn and washing the dishes.

When he came back, he took Damian’s hand and dumped about half of the coins into it with a grin. He had been practically glowing ever since they had met up that morning, an effect that Damian could easily write off as being due to the shining sun and not his presence, as Drake had insisted. Even inside the arcade, shaded and away from the sun, the fifteen year old was still shining brighter than any of the neon lights around them.

Damian just shook his head but relented as Jon dragged him around the arcade, showing off his gaming skills and earning tickets. Damian was decent at most of the games, but was too unused to the mode of gaming compared to the consuls he played on with his family to truly be any good. He would never admit that out loud of course. It would go right to Jon’s head he was sure.

Damian had run out of coins and only had a fistful of tickets by the time Jon was down to his last two had had a plastic bag filled.

For his last game, Jon took Damian by the hand and pulled him towards an arm wrestling game that reached to the ceiling with a bell at the top. Damian had seen such a game in a cheesy movie Brown had shown him and the rest of the family. After asking his father more about the game, he was informed that, as many carnival games were, it was completely rigged and impossible to win.

“Those don’t actually work you know,” Damian said, leaning against the machine with an unimpressed raise to his brow. “Even for your strength it won't budge.”

“Want to bet?” Jon asked, his grin growing wider, a far cry from the shy and timid Jon Kent and much closer to the Superboy he knew from their late night escapades.

Damian snorted but gave a single nod. A simple dip of his chin, never breaking eye contact.

“All of the loser’s tickets to the winner?” Jon asked.

“Whatever you say,” Damian agreed.

Jon rolled up his sleeves and, gaze still on Damian, took hold of the fake hand and started the simulated arm wrestling contest.

Damian actually gave a jump when he felt something rush past him inside the machine and hit the bell at the top with an almost deafening ding ding ding!

While he stared wide eyed up at the bell, Jon cheered and collected the tickets spilling out from the machine into his plastic bag. When Damian turned back to him, still slightly in shock, Jon was holding out his hand expectantly with a self satisfied smirk.

“The machine must be broken,” Damian said as he handed them over.

“Whatever you say,” Jon teased. After taking the tickets, he took Damian’s hand again and went up to the prize counter to feed the tickets into a machine to get a receipt. He handed off said recit to a tired looking teenager, only a year or so older than Damian, bouncing on his heels.

“Could I have that bear?” he asked, pointing up to the ceiling. Damian followed his finger’s direction and found a large bear that was at least five feet tall hanging from the ceiling. It had a superman symbol on it’s chest in the shape of a heart, which was more than enough to make Damian roll his eyes. It was very much something the young Kent would waste his tickets on as a gag with his family.

The teenager behind the counter smiled through their clear as day lack of sleep and scanned both the recibt and the little sign that announced the bear’s price. He had to pull over a ladder and get a long hooked pole to unloop the bear from where it was hung up, and struggled with handing it to Jon over the counter.

As soon as the bear was in his arms, though, Jon immediately pushed it to Damian’s chest. He struggled at first, with the bear being as big as himself, but managed to get a good hold on it and look around it to furrow his brows in question.

“I won it for you,” Jon said like it was obvious. “If you need me to carry it it can.”

“I am perfectly fine carrying the monstrosity on my own,” Damian said. “You couldn’t have chosen a more impractical gift?”

“It's not an impractical gift,” Jon said. “It’s cute.”

“Can it not be both?” Damian asked, but relented in following Jon out of the arcade the fastest he could with the monstrous stuffed animal in his arms.

“Sweets shop or cafe next?” Jon said allowed, though it was clear he was asking himself.

“We only have time left for one of the two,” Damian said after checking his watch again.

“Cafe it is then!” Jon said. He guided Damian back down the Metropolis sidewalk, pointing out different stores and vendors along the way as he told stories about them. Damian only heard half of the stories, his sight too focused on Jon’s lit up and expressive face for any of his other senses to properly function.

Halfway through a story about a noodle store he liked to visit with his older brother, Jon noticed Damian’s staring. He ducked his head, his cheeks flaring bright red, and Damian couldn’t help but give the smallest of smiles at the reaction.

The rest of the walk to the cafe, Jon’s voice was back to its usual shy softness as he chatted on about the city he so clearly loved. Damian didn’t stop his staring, but did end up lost in his own thoughts about the past years’ events.

He could still very clearly remember the day when he was thirteen and his father had carefully sat him down in his study for a talk. During that talk, he was told of one of the most disturbing things yet to happen in his life, which was saying something considering his childhood.

Through dimension hopping events that Damian never bothered to understand, Jon had gone from ten years old to seventeen overnight. He was different now that he was so much older, and Damian found a hole grow in his chest from the loss of his closest friend.

The event was possibly the thing that finally cemented his bond with Drake, and they had both lost their kryptonian friends under circumstances completely out of their control. The only problem Damian saw with the bonding they had done was that Drake had gotten Conner back. Not only had he gotten him back, but the two had started dating not too long after his return, which brought Damian an odd sense of jealousy he had never been able to understand.

After a year of consideration between himself and his parents, Jon had gone to Zatanna for help in reversing his physical age. The magician had agreed, but had only been half successful in her daunting task. The next time Damian saw Jon, he was only a year younger than him, still with his ever present height advantage, now coupled with his mental age.

Damian was still ashamed when he remembered his initial reaction of slamming the door in Jon’s face. He had refused to speak to the Kryptonian for months on end, so unsure of how to feel about the entire situation he had found himself in. He had gotten his friends back, but he wasn’t sure if he was still really his friend.

He still wished that his family could have stopped being so damn unconditionally supportive for one moment and knocked some sense into him so he could have accepted Jon’s returned presence in his life earlier than he actually had.

It had been a year since the two had fully reunited, apologies coming from both ends despite Damian’s admit denial that Jon had anything to apologize for. He was big enough to admit he had been the one fully in the wrong even though everyone repeatedly told him his reaction was perfectly reasonable for a fourteen year old presented with such a stressful situation. Even at sixteen, he couldn’t understand Jon’s easy forgiveness of his behavior.

“Dami?” Jon pulled him from his thoughts gently, cheeks faded to a much softer pink, but the blush still clearly present.

“I’m okay,” Damian nodded, ignoring the clear pull in his chest. Jon had been so gentle with him the past year no matter how much they had both moved on, and it was enough to drive him crazy “You were saying?”

“We’re here,” Jon smiled, nodding to the cafe now in front of them.

Damian gave a small smile in return and followed Jon to the outdoor table he claimed to be his favorite. While Jon placed their orders at the front, Damian set the super bear up in one of the seats at the table. He pulled out his phone while he waited, finding texts from Grayson, Todd and Brown all asking him a variation of ‘how’s the date going?’

Damian responded to all the texts from his prying siblings with ‘it’s not a date’ and put his phone away again to look around at the others sitting outside of the cafe.

There were a few younger high school and older middle school students hanging around the tables and benches outside the cafe, enjoying the nice weather and food Jon had claimed to be some of the best in metropolis (“Besides that one time Conner brought me with him to a custody required dinner with Lex a few years ago. That was the best,” he remembered the teen chatting on the walk there). Damian realized Jon had probably learned about the cafe from friends he knew from school.

As he looked around, though, he noticed more and more that the other teens around him were all there in pairs. Sipping on milkshakes and coffees together while they ate a split pastry. Some were holding hands over or under the table, or kissing on benches or leaned against the cafe’s garden walls. Subconsciously he found himself beginning to go into panic, because this was clearly not a place a normal friend from school would take Jon.

He didn’t understand why he was panicking at the notion of the boy having a boyfriend or girlfriend, or having gone on dates before. He was mentally aged to nineteen, even if he was currently dwelling in the body of a fifteen year old.

Maybe it was because sitting among these couples brought out something in him that had nothing to do with Jon. At least, he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with Jon.

He had never felt threatened or out of place when at events that had many couples, his age, younger and older, all gathered and acting as couples. He knew the divorce, widowing and murder rates in Gotham meant that very few couples actually lasted for life. Even around his family he never found himself upset because he was too happy for their pairings. His father and Selina had made a great match despite his earlier doubts, Grayson and West were married with kids of their own, Todd and Harper as dysfunctional as they were still held Damian’s vote as the best fit couple in the family, and Drake and Jon’s cloned older brother were engaged to be wed in the spring.

But these couples were affecting him in such a way that he started to squeeze his stuffed bear’s paw under the table.

What’s wrong with Gotham? He thought, rerunning every statistic and horror story of love he knew from the city. The thought quickly morphed into What’s wrong with me?

It had been a long time since he asked that question, two years to be exact, and it was quickly waved away back to his first question. It had taken years of extensive therapy ordered by Alfred and plenty of love and care from his family, colleagues and friends to help him accept there wasn’t anything wrong with him. He was raised in harsh circumstances that his mother had gotten him out of and to his father the soonest she could. He had built walls and defences, and he knew now at a more mature age that they were all just for show and were unneeded now.

He looked around at the couples again and forced his heart not to harden in the presence. It was beautiful what youth and a good city could do to grow love, and he would be damned if he let a coping mechanism from his childhood make him view it as any less.

“Sorry I took so long,” Jon’s laugh caught his attention and he gave a soft smile up at his friend.

“Not at all.”

Jon took his seat across from him and sat down the tall pink and white milkshake between them as well as a napkin with two cookies on it. Just with a glance Damian could tell Jon had gotten him a dark chocolate variety, and couldn’t help but let his smile grow.

His attention on the cookies of course made him belatedly notice that the milkshake was singular and had two straws sticking up from the top.

“I wasn’t sure what flavor you wanted,” Jon admitted while Damian’s gaze whipped around them, knowing there must be a mistake. Instead of an explanation, Damian’s eyes locked onto a few couples who had a drink or milkshake set up the same way. One drink, two straws, with them drinking from them happily as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“It’s strawberry and cream,” Jon said, drawing his attention again. The teen across from him was nervously adjusting his glasses and pushing back his dark curls, looking anywhere but Damian. Damian noticed the faint blush dusting his cheeks and smiled, before his entire face went red at realization that he had just smiled at his friend blushing.

His brothers’ and Brown’s texts suddenly came back to mind, along with a few romcoms they had watched together and his own observations of his family and their significant others. The movie with a shared bucket of popcorn, the holding hands, the bear purchased and given after winning an arcade game, and now the obviously romantic cafe with a two straw milkshake and a blush.

“Are we on a date right now?” Damian blurted, eyebrow furrowed but eyes wide.

Jon’s head snapped up so quick Damian had barely seen it, compliments of super speed, his eyes equally as wide, “I thought we were, but your expression is telling a totally different story. You don’t have any kryptonite batarangs on you right now, right?”

“Why would I-” Damian shook his head, “We’re on a date no one had the decency to tell me?”

Well, technically Grayson, Todd and Brown had told him, but that wasn’t important. What was important was how shrill his voice was to his own ears, and the sympathetic glances a few couples were giving him.

“I asked Tim to ask you if you go on a date with me since my phone broke,” Jon was babbling now, hands flying around as he tried to explain. “I thought when he told Conner that you said yes you were saying yes to the date!”

A set up, Damian realized. Drake had fully intended for this mess to happen just to spite him. The man was lucky Damian now accepted he loved him, or he would never live to see his spring wedding.

“I need a second,” Damian said, resting his head in his hands. His face felt hot under his fingers, and he feared to imagine just how red it had become. A lifetime of training was all falling apart all because he had spent an entire date with a cute boy completely in the dark to the fact that it was a date.

Wait. Cute boy?

Did he think Jon was cute? Jon was cute, he had always known that, but did he really think he was cute in the way that Drake found the clone cute?

He had been jealous when Tim got the clone back but he lost Jon. That meant something, he had always known that, but he had never really looked into it. If he thought Jon was cute in that way, it explained the jealousy. The feeling of emptiness the half kryptonian boy’s absence had left him with. The reaction of honest to god fear when Jon came back in a way that was definitely socially unacceptable for him to be with.

Jon is cute. I like Jon. Jon likes me…

“Dami?” Jon said quietly, nervously. No, it was more than nerves now, he was afraid. He was afraid in the same way Damian had seen him in his older form. Rejection and heartbreak surly making the taste in his mouth bitter as apologies he didn't need to say weighed on his tongue.

“We’re on a date,” Damian finally said, peeking up from behind his finger. He said it as the statement it was and not the question from before.

“If you want to be,” Jon nodded, some of the fear falling away.

Damian took his hands away from his face but kept his eyes on the milkshake instead of Jon’s face. It was already starting to melt and turn sluggish in its tall cup.

“I want to be,” he said, a soft smile falling on his lips.

“Thank goodness, because I don’t know what I would tell Mom if I went home single,” Jon sighed in relief, then stopped. “That does mean you want to be my boyfriend, right?”

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Damian affirmed, smile growing wider. There was something fuzzy and warm and safe growing in his chest. It reminded him of Jon, as silly as it was considering Jon was the one who put it there.

“Thank goodness,” Jon repeated, letting his head fall on the table. “I think that was the most stressful thing I’ve ever done.”

“Jon, you’ve fought gods.”

“That was a hundred times easier than this was.”

“The milkshake is melting.”

Jon bounced up at that and quickly leaned forward to start gulping the sugary drink from his straw. Damian shook his head with a smaller smile and leaned forward as well.

His face lit up in heat once again when their noses brushed and Damian realized just how close there were, but he didn’t pull back. The milkshake was good, but it had nothing on the bashful and overwhelmingly happy look in Jon’s eyes. Damian was sure it was a look he could get drunk off of if he tried.

“We should probably get going,” Jon said with heavy remorse after they finished the milkshake.

“Probably,” Damian agreed, checking his watch. He wished he had the ability to make time stop, just for a second. He had just found out this was a date, and it was already ending. He would have to use the walk back to Drake and the clone to make up for that lost time.

As they walked down the sidewalk they finished their cookies and stared ahead at the near setting sun. When they were both finished, Damian took Jon’s hand and intertwined their fingers without looking towards him.

“Our next date you should take me to that sweets shop you’ve been talking about,” Damian said with a smile teasing his lips. He glanced from the corner of his eye just in time to catch Jon smiling a close lipped but wide smile. Domain was sure he would never get over how shy Jon could get in his civilian persona.

“I will,” Jon promised.

They reached the fountain they were meeting their brothers much too soon for Damian’s liking. Drake and clone spoted them right away, surly partially due to the oversized stuffed bear Damian was hulling along, and smiled upon spotting their intertwined fingers.

“I see the date went well,” Drake said with a devilish grin.

“No thanks to you,” Damian glared.

“He was just having a little fun,” the older Kent boy waved off Damian’s anger. “You figured it out before it ended at least.”

“Barely,” Damian rolled his eyes.

“But we still had fun,” Jon interjected. “Thank you for bringing Damian with you. It was a good first date.”

“First date as in there will be more,” the clone’s grin matched his fiance’s as he looked between them. “Jon you sly dog, did you get yourself a bat boyfriend?”

“Oh my God,” Jon mumbled, face going red in a new way for that day that was more familiar to Damian as his My Family is Embarrassing me Please Send Help face, as titled by his brother.

“He did,” Damian spoke up for him with a slightly puffed chest.

“I did,” Jon repeated with a smile down at Damian.

“Well, it’s time for me to get your little bat back to Gotham,” Tim interjected.

“Who are you calling little?” Damian raised an eyebrow. He was as tall as Drake and still growing. If it weren’t for Cain, Drake would have been the shortest of the bats.

“Can you please let me live in a fantasy where my little brother is still little for five minutes?” Drake pleaded with him.

Damian rolled his eyes again as Drake kissed his fiance goodbye.

Together they started to walk away from the Kent brothers and back to Drake’s car. Drake allowed the kick that came to his shins as they walked off and even smiled. When they got to the car, Damian had made up his mind.

“Hold this,” Damian said, passing the bear off to Drake as quickly as he could with a stuffed animal of it;s size. “If you drop Jon Jr. I won't hesitate to stick a blade in your shin.”

“Got it, no dropping,” Drake grinned at him over the bear. “Go get him.”

Damian nodded and ran back in the direction they had come from until he reached the fountain and spotted the Kent brothers walking in the other direction. He had to rush to keep up with even just their walking speed, reminding him of how much Jon had to control himself and slow down the entire day. Luckily his own speed, as human as it was, was enough to reach them before they got to the clone’s car.

Without a word, Damian grabbed Jon’s arm as he turned to face him, and pushed up onto his tiptoes to lock their lips together. Jon froze under his hand before melting into the kiss and sliding his hand into Damian’s hair and his other arm around his waist for support.

Damian pulled back with Jon chasing after his lips with his eyes closed. He smiled at the sight and pecked Jon’s lips one more time before parting fully and starting his run back in the direction of his brother’s car.

“You’ll call me, right?” he heard Jon yell behind him.

Damian turned on his heel to look back, “Get your phone fixed and I will.”

Then he kept running, a wide grin on his face.

Maybe sunny days in Metropolis weren't so bad after all.

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

OC Kiss Week Day 7: Courtship

WIP: Silent Magnets Pairing: Devin x Everett Timeline: 1975 (when will the modern timeline return from war?) CW: Just a bunch of fluff to cleanse the palette from yesterday’s prompt that no one seemed to like lmao Rating: T (though I think it could go lower tbh) Words: 1,611

***

I’m gesticulating when I talk—nothing new and kind of relatable as far as Everett goes—the van is chugging along, traffic is light on the highway, the sun is bright, and the tunes are scratchy and cool.

“Did he think I was dumb?” I snap a pout at Everett, my curls bouncing directly out of my face along with the breeze from the window. “Ev, you gotta tell me the truth. That was a ‘this broad is dumb’ look.”

“Ah, no,” Everett laughs, peeking into the rearview mirror at the car we’d just passed. “He was concerned that you didn’t know half of the door is...hanging on by a miracle....” With this comment he leans across me and yanks the handle of said door, thus activating the lock once more. “And I can’t say I blame him.”

“He thought I didn’t know our door is falling off?” I throw my hands up and all but shove myself out of the window. “You’re the stupid one, pal!”

Everett takes my hand closest to him and pulls me back to my seat. “Okay. Maybe don’t exit the vehicle until it comes to a complete stop.”

I sigh. “Wilco,” I grumble, though I’m giggling with him at this point. I lace our fingers together. “I think we need to get some sleep. We’re either gonna end up crashing this thing or we’re gonna go insane.”

Brushing his thumb over the back of my hand, Everett takes the next exit. “I second that,” he says a little too jovially.

“Where are we going, sir?” I ask in a goofy English accent.

Everett leans into the wheel to better determine when to merge into traffic and complements my silly voice with one of his own. “Yes, I was somewhat hoping we could find a place to rest our weary heads. Some would say it is against the law to drive while intoxicated, and I believe that’s where we are headed with our exhaustion.” 

We’re moving again and that’s when it hits me. There’s a silence in the van only broken by “How Sweet It Is” coming in over the radio at the most crucial time, and I look down at our hands. Perfectly grasping one another. Mine, very small in his.

It was so natural. I didn’t even notice it had happened. And I think it hit Everett weird then, too, because he squeezes my hand lightly, confirms that it’s what’s going on. We hold hands all the way to a quaint lodge a mile or so off the highway, after which he parks, turns off the van, and we sit for a few minutes. Silent.

I look at our hands again.

“I may be out of line,” Everett says eventually and like he very much knows he’s not out of line, “but consensus has agreed that the next logical step is to address this.” He holds our hands up between us and affects a knowing grin I can’t help feeling soft about.

“Okay,” I exhale, fatigue dropping onto me like a six-ton weight. I watch people entering and exiting the motel for a moment. “It makes me feel good and like we should’ve been doing it this whole time.” A blush rises into my face but I turn my eyes to him almost with defiance against my nerves.

He tilts his head down as he, too, people-watches a bit. “Well. That’s been addressed.” He pauses. “You have baby hands.”

“No I god damn don’t,” I retort as he unlatches our grip on one another. It doesn’t seem urgent, in fact it seemed hesitant, but we’re separate again now in any case.

He checks us into a double room, the implications of which don’t fully land until I step over the threshold and register the one bed in the middle. I freeze in place, and Everett comes up behind me to take stock of the accommodations.

“Yeah!” he says sharply. “Let me go to the front desk to switch rooms.”

I grab his arm as he turns away. “No.”

Everett pivots to me and his eyebrows jump toward his hairline.

“I mean,” I stammer, “unless you wanted to...I just thought it would be easier if—”

“It’s alright.” His face has softened and he’s smiling at me, warm. His eyes sparkle with assurance. “I didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

Nodding, I take my bag from him. “Swell. Okay. That’s swell. Saves us a lot of trouble.”

Everett orders food for us while I take a shower. We stuff our tired faces with pizza while watching the only clear channel on television, which happens to be the news. We stay up shockingly late, considering how close we are to passing out, and it’s well into evening before Everett emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered himself, dressed in an adorable striped pajama set and drying his hair with a towel.

“Très chic,” I snicker from my place propped up against the pillows.

He does a twirl for me, arms outspread. “Why, thank you, sir.” He crawls into bed next to me, yawning loud. “You’re sure this is okay?”

“Yeah.”

I stare at his face as he pinches the bridge of his nose, tucking his arm under his pillow and dropping the comforter over himself.

In the quiet he forces his eyes open to look right back at me. They’re so devoid of energy but they’re patient, like he’s waiting for me to change my mind.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?” is what actually comes out of my mouth.

At first I think he’s going to instantly reject me, but he pushes himself up onto his elbow and holds his other arm out to me.

I’m drawn to him, shifting until I’m close to being right on top of him, and he guides my head down to his face. Presses a kiss to my mouth. Sweet, lingering, and there’s a purity to it I don’t think I can properly explain. It’s so familiar and nostalgic for a time of my life that never existed. His lips are so inviting, so welcoming, and a thumb brushes across my cheek in the same motion it’d brushed across the back of my hand in the car.

Before I can savor the kiss like it should’ve been savored, it’s over. He leans back and pushes a curl behind my ear.

“Good night,” he whispers.

And I couldn’t say for sure what happened between then and the next half a minute—I guess my overly expressive face gave me away—but Everett’s fingers are in my hair and I’m kissing him again, a little less sweet though the purity is still there, and he lies down with me, and I become addicted to kissing him until we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Waking up to Everett the next morning is enough to energize me for rest of my life, I think. He stretches and gives me another peck on the lips, and neither of us mind the morning breath so much. We get our morning routines out of the way, pack up, go out to breakfast hand-in-hand, and set out on the road once more with new songs in our hearts and lighter laughter.

“What do we call this, then?” I ask over lunch.

He circles the air with a forkful of salad and jabs in my direction with it. “We call it a courtship.”

My incredulous snort finds its way around my French fries. The restaurant is beginning to fill with people as the afternoon rush hits. “A courtship? The brave knight is pitching woo?”

“Only if there is woo to pitch.” He winks at me.

I turn my face to conceal how smitten I am. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’d even consider it.”

His chewing slows and he frowns at me. “Why not?”

“I didn’t think that, um...the fact that I don’t align myself with womanhood was something I guessed wouldn’t be attractive to you.”

Everett swallows his bite and spears his next one without a hint of a second thought. “This is an incredibly new courtship, Devin. Feelings may change over time...some from you, and some from me. You won’t be the same person ten years from now, you may not even be the same person ten minutes from now. Neither will I. A relationship could be the wrong move for us in the long run...though I suppose I’d like to give it a try,” he added with sincerity. “You could find yourself embracing your womanhood eventually. Or you could disavow it altogether. None of it matters. All I can say with utmost confidence is that the most attractive thing about you is you.”

I’m stunned. “Really?”

He looks for a second like he could reach across the table and shake the nonsense out of me. “Sweetheart...I am unsure about a lot of things, but this is not one of them.”

My insides feel like they’ve been baked in a ten thousand degree fire and I’m floored. No one in the history of my life has ever said anything like that to me before...and to a point, I’m overwhelmed. Here's someone willing to ignore what I’d thought for years was a failing. Someone I feel more myself around than anyone else I’ve met dating back to when I was little. Someone who embraces not only the fact that I am a child of two worlds and the tribulations that come with it but the person I am in my heart, and is apparently willing to embrace the changes to himself as a result.

We sit with our knees almost touching under the table and I realize that I’m watching myself fall in love with him.

[katefiction]

Revolution, Part 2

by katefiction (Maria) / 2014

The plane hit the tarmac hard. George bounced off my lap momentarily but didn’t wake from the six hour sleep he’d enjoyed; his head lopped to one side.

I leaned towards the window to watch as we slowed to a stop. All I could see was the golden brown hue of dust. This wasn’t your usual runway, in fact it wasn’t even an airport.

When Susannah had left us at an airfield just outside London, I knew instantly that our flight wouldn’t be taking us to a regular city airport somewhere in Iowa. There was no checking in, scanning our passports or going through security; just a field and a small patch of tarmac. The plane was small and shabby, and as it spluttered into life, I worried about whether it would manage a nine hour flight.

Susannah, if sensing my anxiety, apologised, ‘I’m sorry Ma’am, it’s all Jamie could do at short notice’

I placed on a weak smile, ‘it’s fine, as long as it gets us there’.

Get us there it did, and we were finally in Iowa, with my one and only clue of finding William.  

Once the plane was still, I unclipped George from his infant seat belt and then did my own and headed to the doors. The pilot and his co-pilot were the only other two on board and the plane juddered as the co-pilot jumped out to let the steps down for me.

‘Thank you’ I said, barely managing to see him through the dust as I took the hesitant steps off the plane.

He said nothing and instead walked to the back of the plane to open the baggage bin. I heard a thump and turned to see him throwing my three bags unceremoniously onto the ground.

Around us was nothing but land as far as the eye could see. Green grass shriveled to brown in the searing heat and dust rose up in clouds with each step I took.

By now, the change in atmosphere had woken George up, and he sleepily rested his head on my shoulder, blinking away the dust and sunlight that were irritating his eyes.

I pulled my bags away from the plane and onto the side of the runway-come-dirt track, and waited as the co-pilot did what appeared to be some checks on the plane. After twenty minutes and a refuel from two tanks kept at the back, he banged his hand on the side of the plane twice, and the low rumble of the engine began.

He turned to look at George and me waiting expectantly on the track, and briefly gave us a puzzled expression, before striding towards the plane.

‘Um…excuse me!’ I called.

He turned, ‘yes?’

‘Are you taking us somewhere else?’

He furrowed his brow, ‘we’re going somewhere else, I don’t know about you’

‘Oh’ I said, trying not to show the surprise on my face. ‘So um, will there be a car coming to take us to Redfern because this is a little too hot for him’

I indicated to George, whose face was turning red.

‘No idea, we were told to bring you here, that’s all’ he said shortly and made moves to get back onto the plane.

‘Wait!’ I shouted, trotting up to the cockpit, ‘I don’t even know where we are, where am I supposed to go?!’

‘Not my problem’, he shrugged and got into his seat.

My face must have been covered in panic, because a moment later, he stuck his head out of the window. ‘Bus stop is that way!’ he pointed to the left.

With that, the plane chugged its way along the track and disappeared into the sky, leaving me, George and our bags deserted on the road, in the middle of nowhere. Two small fish in one very big pond.

*

I should’ve known this would happen, I thought to myself as I sat on a tree stump making up some formula for George.

It had only taken ten minutes of walking in the direction of the elusive ‘bus stop’ for him to start wailing with hunger. I was hopeful for a moment that the sheer volume of his voice would alert someone to come and help us, but we hadn’t seen a soul since the plane left.

Truth be told, I needed to sit down too. Carrying three bags and a baby felt like a mountain trek in this blinding heat. It hadn’t occurred to me to change my watch before we left, but I decided it must be the afternoon, given the sun’s position, and I hadn’t eaten anything in twelve hours.

I munched down on an oat bar that I’d packed as George drunk, surprising myself at how hungry I was. My appetite had disappeared along with William and this was the first time in days that I felt that familiar pang in my stomach, as if to remind me I was still human.

I rifled through the back pack and found George’s little red sun hat and placed it on his head. I had stupidly chosen to wear jeans, and was regretting it intensely as the sweat permeated the fabric and rubbed against my skin. I pulled my hair into a bun on the top of my head and placed my face in my hands.

I had no idea where we were, my phone had no signal, and my baby was close to getting sun stroke. This was not how it was supposed to be. 

George seemed to sense my fear at that moment and began to cry.

‘Hey, it’s ok’, I said in my most soothing voice and picked him up to rock him close to me. ‘We’ll find our way, I promise. And then we’ll find daddy and he’ll give you the biggest cuddle because I bet he’s missed you so much’

My eyes started to sting and I forced William out of my head. As convinced as I was at the time, going to Redfern was nothing more than an impulsive whim. What had I been thinking to bring George here?

When we watched the palace being seized, I thought I’d understood that meant the end for us. The reality of ‘the end’ only truly hit me as I sat on that tree stump, miles of emptiness each way I looked. Jamie had organised that plane as a favour, I realised. He had no obligation to us anymore; it wasn’t his job to look after us.

The monarchy was abolished in all but writing. How could I expect a car to come and pick us up and take us to Redfern? How could I expect anyone to do anything for us now? I dug my nails into my palm, so scared and angry, I could scream.

Only George stopped me from doing so, and as we got up to keep going, I changed my focus to him. I couldn’t let this be about finding William and let the disappointment crush us if he wasn’t here. Now this was about getting George to safety.

*

Forty minutes into our walk and my feet were dragging in the dirt. The sun was relentless, and finding any shade was impossible. George had wanted to walk at random intermissions, but had soon got tired and I was carrying him once again, my arm becoming dead from the weight.

In the distance, a small light suddenly shimmered into view. I shut my eyes and opened them again, suspecting it was my eyes playing tricks on me. But the light remained and it was coming closer and forming into a shape.

A car.

My heart leapt and I stopped, ready to wave it down. As it got closer though, I heard my doubt creeping in. What if they recognise us?

I took in my situation: a woman and a baby alone on a deserted road, and they could be anyone.

My protective instinct kicked in and I carried on walking before the car could get close. But it had already seen me stopping and slowed as it approached. The window rolled down.

‘You ok there ma’am?’ the man said, a thick grey beard covering his face. My heart skipped at the sound of the word ‘ma’am’ before I remembered that this was America.

‘Fine thank you’ I said, walking as fast as I could.

‘You tryin’ to get somewhere?’

‘Just the bus stop’ I said cautiously and added, ‘is it close?’

‘Keep going for another half a mile’ he said. ‘You want a ride?’

 ‘No no we’re fine, and you’re going the opposite way anyway’

‘I can turn around’ he said and began to reverse slowly in time with my pace, like a snake slithering in the grass.

Sweat beads started forming in my hands.

‘I said no!!!’ I snapped.

‘Jeez, forget it’ he said switching gears, and sped off, his tires sending small stones flicking in our direction.

I wiped my hand on my jeans and felt my body relax. Maybe he was just being friendly, or maybe he wasn’t. Over the years, I’d learnt to trust very few people. For better or worse, putting my guard up was one thing that had come out of being with William. 

Right now it felt like the only good thing he had ever given me was the little boy on my hip.

‘Nearly there baby’ I said to George as he gazed into the distance, clearly wanting to sleep.

I sped up, encouraged by the stranger’s confirmation that the bus stop wasn’t far and after ten minutes, I saw it. Just a metal pole with a bus sign attached. If you blinked you would miss it, but to me it was like finding water in a desert.

I breathed a sigh of relief, sat down on the ground and waited.

*

When I saw a bus approach, I stood and stuck out my hand long before it had a chance to see us. There was no way I would let it miss me. It came to a creaking stop beside us and George let out an involuntary ‘ooh’.

The doors creaked open and I piled us and our bags on. A large woman sat at the helm, chewing on some gum and a few passengers were dotted among the worn seats.

‘Are you going to Redfern?’ I asked wiping the sweaty hair from my face.

‘Twenty’ the bus driver said glancing at us before returning her gaze ahead.

‘Oh…so you are going there?, I just want to check because I’m new around here and a little lost’ I rambled despite myself.

She looked at me, deeply unimpressed, ‘yes, twenty dollars’

I scrambled around in my backpack and found my purse. My heart dropped when I looked inside.

‘I don’t suppose you take pounds?’ I said sweetly.

She threw me a dirty look, ‘twenty dollars or get off my bus’

I panicked and could think of nothing to do but beg, ‘look please, my baby’s been in the sun for over an hour, I need to get to Redfern and this is all I have, please…’ I shoved two twenty pound notes in her direction, ‘here have double, you can change it later surely?’

The woman eyed the notes, ‘you think I’m stupid, lady? I know what’s going on in your country; she won’t be on those notes for much longer, your money’s useless here’

I looked down at the notes, seeing the Queen’s face staring back at me.

‘This is perfectly good money!’ I pleaded, ‘I’m giving you double, I have more if you want it’

‘You might as well give me this gum for all that’s worth’, she spit the gum into her hand and threw it out the window, ‘now get off my bus’

Just as I was considering getting onto my knees to beg, a figure appeared by my side and passed her a twenty dollar note.

I looked over, an old man with a walking cane and all but five teeth missing smiled at me.

‘Thank you so much’ I said quietly as the doors slammed shut and the bus set off.

‘No trouble’ he said in a hoarse voice and eyed the notes with his pearly blue eyes.

‘Oh here’ I said, handing them over, ‘please have both of them, it’s the least I can do. I’m sure you’ll be able to get them changed’

‘Oh no no’ he croaked, taking the notes and pocketing them, ‘I’m keeping these, they’ll be worth something in a few years time’

I got the feeling this man was a hoarder by the look of his moth eaten shirt, and yet vintage looking watch. He reminded me somewhat of a crow, swooping down on anything shiny.

As I walked to the very back of the bus with George, he remarked, ‘nothing better than a souvenir from a sinking ship’ and patted his pocket.

I smiled at the thought of him inside Buckingham Palace, choosing between all the treasures that must be up for grabs. The memory of the Republic taking the palace suddenly re-entered my mind and made me wince.

Despite the stuffiness of the bus, the journey was a welcome respite. I managed to feed and change George after he slept for an hour and a half, and cleaned him up as best I could without the luxury of hot water and a bath.

He was much happier now and giggled merrily as I sang The wheels on the bus to him. The other passengers on the bus didn’t seem so appreciative and shot me dirty looks as I sang. But for once I didn’t care what other people thought of me.

I hadn’t bothered to ask the bus driver how long the journey to Redfern was. I was prepared to wait for as long as it took. My patience paid off, because after two and a half hours, when it was only me and the old crow man left, the bus came to grinding stop.

‘Last stop, everyone off!’ the bus driver shouted and I gathered my belongings.

‘Is this Redfern?’ I asked the old man as we alighted.

‘One and only’ he laughed like it was a joke I should be in on.

I looked to the left and right once the bus had left. Redfern appeared to be what I’d heard called a ‘one stoplight town’. Just one road with rows of shops was before me. I assumed the houses for the 104 residents must be close by.

‘I don’t suppose there are any hotels here?’ I asked, and immediately realised how stupid it must’ve sounded.  

‘No ma’am, Mary might have a room if you’re lucky’ he said.

I seized at the chance of a place to stay, ‘and where would she be?’

He pointed behind me where a rickety old building stood with a wooden sign reading Mary’s Bar and Inn.

At least I didn’t have to travel far this time, I thought with forced optimism.

‘Thank you so much…for everything’ I said.

‘See you around’ he said, hobbling off. I had a feeling that in a town this small, I probably would.  

*

Mary’s was just how I imagined it when I pushed open the wooden door. The small bar that faced the door was held up precariously by a pile of wood on one side. It was lined with wooden stools whose upholstery was torn and bore the marks of cigarette butts. Only one man occupied the stools and a small middle-aged woman stood behind the bar, cleaning a glass.

She looked at George and me with suspicion, ‘can I help you?’

I walked towards the bar, carefully avoiding the spilt drink on the floor, ‘I was wondering if you had any rooms available?’

Her green eyes looked as though they were scoping me out to see if I was any threat to her and her little town. Clearly my dishevelled appearance and George who was chanting ‘woh woh woh!’ on repeat to the man at the bar were harmless and she softened.

‘Twenty five for the night ok?’ she asked in a strong accent.

‘Fine, but I’m afraid I only have pounds. The lady on the bus wouldn’t take them but I promise they’re fine, if you can point me to a post office tomorrow, I can change them…I can leave you something like my watch as deposit if you like, we just need somewhere to stay tonight and…’

‘Whoa there’ she held her hands up, ‘I don’t need your life story, pounds’ll do for now’

I laughed weakly, ‘sorry, it’s been a long day’.

‘Let me show you to your room, you look like you need the rest’ she said and led us up a narrow staircase to the side of the bar.

It turned out that the ‘inn’ part of Mary’s was just two small rooms, each equip with a chest of drawers, a bed and a window. It also turned out that we were its only visitors.

Mary handed me the key and pointed down the hall, ‘That’s my bedroom if you need anything, bathroom’s next door’

‘Thank you, this is perfect’

‘If you hear a racket in the morning, it’s just the delivery guys, we start pretty early around here’

‘I’m sure this one will be awake at the crack of dawn anyway’ I said gesturing to George.

Mary tickled his chin and he squirmed away, smiling at her, ‘does he have a name?’

‘G- uh- Alexander’ I said, stumbling. ‘And I’m Libby’

‘Well good night Alexander, sleep tight’

George blinked at her and after wishing her a good night, we retreated to our room. 

I changed him into a baby grow and rocked him to sleep as he fed lazily on a bottle. I would have to make sure I got him some solid food the next day. After tucking him in, I peeled off my clothes and noticed I hadn’t packed myself anything to wear in bed. A t-shirt would have to do.   

My body reacted to the bed as soon as I lay down, sinking into the hard springs with relief. My mind however, was buzzing. It was as if I could hear the crickets chirping outside.

Surely in a town of 104, William couldn’t be that hard to find. If he was here at all. And if he wanted to be found.

I slept fitfully that night, my eyes popping open every hour or so. My dreams were littered with a collection of absurdities; planes and crows swooping into the palace, chewing gum stuck to my hair, and William, driving us on a bus to nowhere.   

*

Early the next morning George woke happy and refreshed from a good night’s sleep. Nevertheless, he was hungry and the powdered milk I’d been giving him was rejected as soon as I’d tried to put it in his mouth. We had put him onto full fat milk a month before, and he loved it. Now he needed something solid to keep him going.

We dressed and went down to the bar where Mary was stocking up on drinks.

‘Morning’ I said.

‘Morning to you, sleep well?’ she asked, bending down to stock the spirits.

‘Very well thank you’ I lied, ‘I was wondering where I could pick up some milk and something to eat for him?’

She looked up at the clock on the wall which had just struck 6.30, ‘at this time? We don’t even have 7-11s out here’ she laughed.

My heart sunk and I wondered if it would be too much to ask her for something to eat.

Reading my mind, she added, ‘I would give you something but I’m waiting for my milk delivery myself, and I’m all out of eggs and bread. Does he like tilapia?’

‘Um…’

She laughed again, ‘it’s a fish’

‘Oh, maybe not yet, though he will eat anything’

She stood up straight and placed a hand on her hip, ‘I tell you what, if you want some air, you could go down to the farm to see if any milk is ready, Bette makes bread too so she might have some if you’re lucky. They’re the only place up earlier than me in this town’

The thought of walking made my feet ache after yesterday, but I supposed I might as well.

Mary rung open the till and dug out some cash, ‘here, you can pick me up a loaf and some eggs while you’re there…and you can pay me back in dollars later’

I smiled ruefully. Who would’ve thought I’d ever need to borrow money.

With my mind focused on getting food for George, I’d tried to put the reason we were there to a corner of my mind. Maybe I was scared of what I would find. Or what I wouldn’t.

‘Mary?’ I began, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen a man come in here or around town. My age, tall, blond hair?’

Mary stood and thought for a moment, sticking out her bottom lip, ‘nope, should I?’

I tried not to let the disappointment show and fixed a smile on, ‘it’s fine, it was a long shot’ I said, suddenly not able to meet her eye.

After Mary gave me the directions to the farm, George and I set off. It was a beautiful day, and I found myself actually enjoying the walk and the fresh air as it breezed through my hair. I could still feel the weight under my eyes from the days of sleepless nights, but something about having a goal kept me going. Even if it was just bread and milk.

We weaved our way through the houses that were behind Redfern’s main street and carried on until we found the large crop fields that Mary had described. The farm covered acres and acres of land and I had to squint to see the white farm house and outbuildings that went with it.

George was completely taken with the place and fidgeted to be let down. He stood for a second amongst the long brown crops which stood proudly and were as tall as him.

‘Go on, run!’ I encouraged, pushing his back.

He was clearly unsure of what to do, so used as he was to walled gardens and indoor spaces.

I nudged him again and he took a step reluctantly. I felt a pang of guilt as I imagined Lupo running free here with George chasing him.

I bent down to his level, ‘I bet you can’t catch Mummy’ and set off on a slow exaggerated jog.

‘Mu!’ he squealed and came after me, scrabbling at my legs.

I laughed and ran again until he didn’t need any more encouragement and I left him to run and fall through the crops until we got to the farm house. 

Mary had told me to knock at the door because Bette would probably be inside baking. When no answer came, I tried again. Even George had a go, bashing at the door with his palm.

‘I don’t think she’s here, shall we go look around the side?’

We walked around to the side of the house where some cows were grazing in a field. George wondered over to them and watched them from a respectful distance with his hands behind his back.

Over to the back of the house was a barn and a red pick-up truck parked outside. I watched as a figure carrying a bale of hay on their shoulder came in to view. They walked to the truck and threw it in the back, before going back to the barn to get some more.

Just when I was beginning to think this place was deserted.

I strode over, calling to the person as they came back out of the barn, ‘excuse me! I’m looking for Bette…’

‘She’s away for a couple of days’ the man called back as he threw another bale in.

I turned to check George was ok, ‘maybe you can help? I was after some milk and e-‘

I returned my gaze to find him standing by the truck like he’d been frozen to the spot. My voice caught in my throat.

‘William’

*

It was his hands I noticed first, covered in dirt, his nails blackened underneath. Then came his face, a light covering of hair formed over his jaw and chin, but there was a glow to him I hadn’t seen in months. The darkness had lifted from under his eyes, but they were still the same blue jewels. On his head was a Stetson, and as I scanned down his body, I took in a chequed red shirt and jeans.

‘Kate…’ he said, then pausing. ‘…how…?’

I could see a smile beginning to creep up on his face, ‘where’s George? Is he here?’ he said quickly.

‘He’s over there’ I said and turned to watch our boy bouncing up and down on the spot, still fascinated with the cows.

William took a step forward, but I put my hand out.

‘Leave him’ 

William noticed the lack of warmth in my eyes, ‘are you alright?…how did you get here? I can’t believe this…’

‘I could ask you the same thing’ I said coldly, surprising myself. 

‘Baby…’ He reached out his hand and touched my forearm, but I snatched it away. His hand was hard, dry and unfamiliar. I crossed my arms over my body.  

‘I’m so glad you’re ok, I’ve missed you’ he offered, glancing over to George. ‘Both of you’

‘It looks like it’ I said quietly.

He sighed and took of his hat to rub his forehead, ‘I was worried you’d be like this’

I didn’t expect to feel like this. I thought the moment I saw him, my body would swell with relief and happiness. And for a second it did, but once that tide rolled back out, all I was left with was raw, unrelenting anger.

‘Are you surprised?!’ I said, louder now. ‘I don’t understand how you could leave us in the middle of the night with nothing but a scrap of paper. Do you have any idea…?!’

He pressed his lips together, ‘let me explain, please’

My chest heaved, but I said nothing, giving him the space to speak.

‘Shall we go inside?’ he asked.

‘No’. I wasn’t ready to let go by letting him sit me down and appease me.

‘How much do you know already?’ he said softly.

‘Nothing, I know nothing’

‘Alec and Steven, they’re working for them’

‘I’d figured that much out’ I said refusing to look at him. 

‘I didn’t leave you Kate, I was taken’

My eyes met his and I momentarily felt a flash of regret, but it wasn’t enough to override how I already felt. ‘You don’t look very taken.’

He tried to ignore my comment and continued. ‘The night it happened, I had this feeling something was going on. When I called Jamie to ask him about Papa, he told me to be careful…on guard, and so I was. You remember how I locked all the rooms up?’

I nodded.

‘I just had this inkling that it wouldn’t stop with Papa. I stayed awake all night, listening for a sound that I knew would come. It was about two am when I heard the click of the door. As soon as I heard it, I took George to the panic room and pulled out one of the drawers to use as a cot. I saw an old receipt lying around, scribbled down that note and shoved it in with him.’

He rubbed his jaw and I saw pain flit over his eyes.

‘I walked into the living room and I knew immediately they were there for me. There were three of them, one grabbed my arms and held them behind my back and another went to search the apartment. When he came out, he asked me where ‘the boy’ was. I told them he was with your parents.’

My body stiffened at the thought of someone taking George. ‘Who were they?’

‘The Republic, some other group, people working for Alec and Steven…I honestly don’t know, I just know they wanted me and George out of the way. You have to believe me, I had no idea where they were planning to take me. I didn’t know if they were even going to keep me alive.’

I pulled my arms tighter around myself.

‘The next thing I knew I was being bundled into a car, then a plane and I was deposited here’

‘And you didn’t think to let me know you were ok?!’ I said incredulously.

‘I didn’t have a way. For the first few days, they stayed with me and watched me every minute. They told me not to try anything; that keeping quiet would keep you two out of harm’s way.’

‘I can’t understand why you didn’t tell me, how easy would it have been to wake me up and talk to me? We could’ve sorted it out together, we could’ve run like your father did, but you decided to abandon us instead’

William’s jaw clenched. He was so unused to me being angry with him, and not pouring my love over him. ‘I was protecting you.’

I laughed, ‘you were protecting us? By leaving us alone? Have you any idea what we’ve been through to get here?!’

‘I’m sorry’

I scoffed at the words, which seemed so meaningless.

‘I couldn’t let them take George. Do you honestly think I would’ve let them lay a finger on him?’

I looked away, knowing he was right.

‘If I told you my suspicions, you would’ve insisted we stay together, and I couldn’t let that happen. I realised if they wanted me, they would want George too, so I hid him and hoped they wouldn’t realise I was lying before it was too late.’

‘Alec was so interested in where he was the next morning’ I said.

‘Exactly! In the light of day, they knew they couldn’t take him. Imagine if it got out that they’d kidnapped a child from its mother. I believe they planned to take all of us and when I didn’t let that happen, they settled with just removing me.’

I let the information process. William had known we were in danger and hadn’t told me. When that danger appeared at our door, he gave himself up willingly to protect us. It was the stuff of heroism, yet why didn’t I feel grateful?

‘And now? Where are these men?’ I looked around.

‘They left, but I still feel like I’m being watched’, his eyes shifted over the land.

‘Were you ever going to make contact with me?’ I said quietly. ‘Or is this just a convenient way for you to run from your old life?’

‘Catherine’, he said sternly. He rarely called me that in private ‘Remember I didn’t know where you were either. I watched on the news when the palace was taken, and heard them say that you, George and Harry had gone into hiding. I was sick with worry’

If George hadn’t been there behind us, I could’ve struck him at that moment. ‘YOU were sick with worry?! Poor you!’ I spat.

William’s patience had run thin. If he was expecting an emotional reunion, he certainly wasn’t getting it. 

‘What did you want me to do! I thought they were going to hurt you and George’.

‘You should have told me! I am your wife William, I’m not a child!’ I screamed. George turned around and stared at us. 

William smiled and gave him a little wave, but he was too far for George to recognize him. 

‘I’m sorry ok? You’re here now and we’re together, isn’t that all that matters?’

I shuffled my feet in the dirt. I thought that was all that mattered, finding William safe and reuniting our family was all I’d thought about. But now it was here, why did I want to run as fast as I could? 

‘Look, can I please say hello to him?’ William asked.

I nodded and looked away.

William strode up to him and swooped him up off the ground. 

‘Hello my boy!’

‘Da! Da! Da!’ George shouted and my heart ballooned. 

‘Have you been on adventure GB?’ he said, holding him up in the air. ‘Were you a good boy for Mummy?’

I walked over to the two of them, ‘I wouldn’t call it an adventure’.

He looked at me, concern in his eyes. ‘What happened?’

‘Oh we were just abandoned in the middle of nowhere, walked for miles in the heat to find a bus, were followed down the road by a strange man, and when we found the bus, the woman refused to take my useless money’

William knew anything he said now wouldn’t go down well.

‘But it’s ok, because you were doing it to protect us’ I said with a tight smile. ‘He’s hungry, do you have something for him to eat?’

‘Yeh course, come inside’ he said, trying to place a hand on my back. I shrugged him off. 

We entered the kitchen on the side of the house and George and I sat on a wooden bench at the kitchen table as William cut up a banana.

‘This is where you’ve been staying?’ I said, looking around the room, with its wooden beams running across the ceiling and old, chipped appliances on the work tops.

‘Not here exactly. This is Bette’s house, she owns the farm. My place is the outhouse next door’.

He mashed up the banana and started feeding it to George.

‘Your place?’

‘Our place’

George wolfed down each spoonful. ‘Gosh you’re hungry’ William laughed.

‘He’s only had formula milk since we left London’ I said, wiping the smile off his face.

I didn’t want to be cruel, but I couldn’t help it. Finding William here looking better than he left, a healthy tan glowing from his face, wasn’t what I’d expected. Compared to George and I, who were tired, aching and already homesick. 

As if hearing my thoughts, William said, ‘you’ll like it here Kate. I know it doesn’t seem like much now, but you’ll get used to it. George can run around all day, and maybe we can get him a pet, I can teach him to ride a horse…’

‘You’ve got it all worked out haven’t you?’ 

‘Thinking about you two here is what’s been getting me through every day’

He placed his hand over mine and this time I let him, no matter how much I wanted to pull it away.

‘So why did you tell me not to come looking?’ 

William breathed heavily out of his nose, ‘it was stupid, I was in a panic. I just thought it might stop you from doing anything drastic. I didn’t want you hunting around with Alec and Steven there. If they realised you suspected them, they might’ve…I don’t know, I don’t want to think about what they might’ve of done.’

‘It’s a good thing I didn’t listen to you then’

He smirked, ‘like you ever listen to a word I say’

I averted my gaze to Geroge, not wanting to let him suck me in.

‘What you did was amazing, you know that? George is lucky to have you’

‘Please don’t patronise me’ I said bluntly.

‘I’m not…I’m just…proud of you’

‘I’m glad I have your approval’ I said sarcastically. 

‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise’ he said, a pleading tone in his voice. ‘You’ll see, we can have a life here’

William had it all planned in his head, I could tell. A new life for the three of us in this tiny town with no-one we knew. It was his dream after all.

While my head was still stuck in London, worrying about what would happen to our country, our family, our home; he seemed to have thrown it over his shoulder and not looked back. I hadn’t known much when I’d gone to find him, but the vision of us bringing William home was what I’d presumed from the start. 

But there we were, all my presumptions and feelings turned on their heads. 

My resentment towards William wasn’t going anywhere, and it seemed, neither were we. 

[cosmicbash]

@friendshipfisting requested some grumpy Em at the beach while chatting and I got a little bit carried away writing dorky fluff so-

You lucky heathens are getting a huge prompt drop. Hope you enjoy~

(This is long enough I could post it to ao3 if someone wants to come up with a title ahah)

--

Marshall hated beaches. He always had, they were just always so overcrowded whenever he tried going. And huge clusters of people did nothing but stress him out, even before he got famous and all those claustrophobic fears of a crowd closing in on him suddenly became a reality.

When he was younger and getting absolutely trashed everyday it was easier to deal with. The combination of pills and booze kept him mellow enough that he could even throw himself into a crowd at his own concerts. Helped build up somewhat of a tolerance for whenever he got up on stage.

Outside of performing however? They were still an absolute nightmare that made his stomach twist up into knots. A brief pass through, and maybe a few stops to meet and greet fans he could handle. But actively plopping himself into the hot sandy clusterfuck known as a public beach? That was the furthest thing from fun or relaxing that he could think of. 

Luckily living in the middle of Detroit meant he was mostly free of dealing with said landscape.

So why in the hell was he struggling to get comfortable on some stiff itchy wooden beach chair, with the ocean loudly looming not very far away?

"The wave's are freaking perfect today-" Colson was beaming a smile at him, almost as blinding as the sun resting behind his pretty wet head. The lighting ironically formed a halo around the self proclaimed rap devil. It made Marshall want to snort. "You should seriously come in."

"I'm perfectly fine right here." Under the safety of his umbrella, above the hazardous hot sand. And most importantly far away from the heavy crashing waves. 

Swimming wasn't his best skill either, afterall there was not much need to swim when you avoided the beach. Sure he could wade in a pool and float on his back if needed, but moving, rushing water was a completely different ballgame.

"You're such a drag," Colson's eyes rolled, long legs kicking up sand while he crossed the distance between them. He was still dripping water all over the place, stray droplets splashing onto Marshall's legs when he loomed ever closer to the chair.

Reflexively the older man tucked his notebook away in the nearby bag, knees pulling up so he could resituate himself. Legs crossing indian style to give the brat a place to sit. 

Marshall couldn't care less about being a "drag", he'd been very vocal about his displeasure with the whole idea of wasting a day at the beach. For once he'd taken over the role of bitchy pushover. Spending most of the night before and morning of their trip muttering under his breath, listing all the reasons why it was such a stupid idea. But still going through with the process of booking and reserving a secluded spot for them on some remote beach.

The only reason he'd put up with it at all was for the younger rapper's sake, something which he hoped Colson could actually learn to appreciate. It wasn't common for him to concede like this, but it was only fair. "You enjoying choking on salt water and burning your skin?"

The tall blonde dropped down with a hard plop, legs bouncing to disturb more sand while the beach chair creaked. The bitter question didn't seem to phase his good mood one bit. "Yupp! Loving it. I've missed the beach, I was starting to look like a ghost."

More water splattered against Marshall's ankles, had his skin twitching. "One more big wave like earlier and you might be one-" The brunette was thankful he had shades on, just recalling the moment only a half hour prior when a huge wave had suddenly crashed down and disappeared his partner made his face curl up. It had been a genuinely terrifying minute of watching and waiting for Colson's soaked head to reappear above the water. One that nearly had him leaving his tiny sanctuary to pound down the length of sand separating him from the water. 

Thankfully the younger rapper had resurfaced, farther out then when he'd been hit. Laughter visible even from his distance with the hard shake of the boys shoulders and wide smile. 

"What? That was nothing, you should've seen how big some of the waves over in the Bahama's could get. Now those, those could totally sweep you out to sea."

Clicking his tongue Marshall gave a swift nod, fingers prying open their small cooler to dig out a cold bottle of water. "I'll take your word for it." The last thing he needed was for the kid to get a Bahama's vacation plan into his head. 

Colson sighed dramatically, upper body dropping down to drape over the older man's lap. Inciting a string of curses and half hearted shoves from how the action left water soaking through his shorts. "A little bit of sun and water isn't gonna kill you old man, you look ridiculous all bundled up here in your shirt and hat. Like some horrible undercover pap who's hiding a camera in his beach bag."

The observation was accompanied by a soft laugh and long fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, trailing up along his jaw to flick his hat.

Marshall's teeth set in a line. "What, you want me stripped down streaking across the beach? Tattoos and dick free for an actual reporter to see?"

The chance of some paparazzo being nearby was slim to none, they both knew that. Marshall had gone out of his way to rent the accompanying two beaches on either side despite the small cliffs between them. There was noone other than their own mix of security teams for miles. The only chance someone was getting a shot of either of them was with a drone.

In theory Marshall could strip down and dance about the beach all he wanted, grab Colson by his skinny waist and fuck him down into the sand until he was choking on a seashell. He was fully confident in his team.

That didn't mean any of that sounded remotely tempting however.

"Maybe not running across the beach," Colson snickered body twisting until he was lying with the back of his head against the older man's crotch. Arms curled up over his head so he could lightly grip onto his sides and stretch the rest of his body out. "A slow sensual walk towards the water sounds a lot better. Would give me something really great to look at."

The harsh tug on wet blonde locks barely elicited a reaction. "If your hoping for a full moon tonight you're gonna be disappointed. News called for clouds-" It was easier to deflect from the brats flirting then reward him with a proper response.

"With how your pants sag I'm guaranteed at least a half moon before sundown." This time Marshall was the one sighing, head shaking while he rubbed his temples. Colson of course looked beyond pleased with his joke, damp hands rubbing up over the front of his shirt to lightly massage his shoulders. "Unless your planning on dressing correctly for once while we walk the shoreline."

"Who said anything about walking along the shoreline? When did I agree to that?"

"What, we're gonna have a beach date and not enjoy the sunset together? It's no wonder you've been divorced twice." The light teasing had Marshall snorting despite himself. Palm pushing his sunglasses up off his face and much to his partner's delight knocking away his sunhat.

"Actually I let Kim's other boyfriends worry about the mushy shit like that, last time I went to a beach with her she left me passed out along the shoreline while the tide was rising." The memory had him chuckling quietly to himself while his gaze trailed along with white shoreline. "Fucking bitch almost let me drown all because I snorted her share of coke."

"Jesus-" Colson's lips burst apart in a laugh. Palms leaving the older rapper's shoulders to cup his neck instead. "Hope she at least cleaned your pockets out before she left-"

The suggestion had Marshall's gaze dropping back down, lips quirking up into a smirk while his fingers raked through Colson's knotted hair. "You'd think so right? Damn bitch swiped my wallet and forgot the motel's key card. Came back to wake my half submerged ass up and bitch how hard of a time I was giving her- like- fuck me for not reminding her it was in my back pocket while I was drowning!"

The outburst had them both laughing finally, Colson's boisterous and expressive was Marshall's was quieter and reserved to a soft shake of his shoulders. A few years ago the same story might've dragged up residual hurt feelings. Colson's soft fingers tickling his throat and heavy body helped keep them away.

"I'll keep that in mind in case I wanna drown your ass sometime soon."

"Probably already have it planned out, why your so eager to get me walking along the shore."

This time when Colson snorted it was followed up with a firm pull. "Fuck, ya caught me-" Large hands curling around the back of his neck to pull him down for an upside down kiss. It was interrupted by panted breaths and light shakes of the younger rapper's head but the action soothed his mood nonetheless.

Colson's mouth was warm against his own and tasted like salty sea water. Marshall even swore he could feel the scratch of sand against his chin but continued to kiss back anyway. The moment was pleasant, helped ease what little stress he had left in his temples.

The broke apart when his back started to ache, fingers tugging softly at the tangled blonde locks until they separated. "If I walk you along the shore like some cheesy hallmark movie can we skip the whole lovey dovey sunset gazing bullshit?"

Colson mock gasped. "And ruin my proposal I had planned?"

Leaning back Marshall moved to uncross his legs, forcing his behemoth of a partner to sit up himself. "If it's another collab idea dragging me out into this ridiculous sun and pesty sand was the worst way to soften me up-"

"Actually I was gonna propose we try fucking out in the ocean. Was hoping the whole weightless thing with the water meant you could hold me up while we fucked." The sleazy wink had Marshall shooting Colson a worried look. It was hard to tell how serious the brat was being. It sounded just like the kind of stupid thing he would actually plan.

"That's one way to break the news to the media," The brunette couldn't help but shake his head and laugh while he climbed back up onto his feet. Hand catching the wide umbrella so he wouldn't knock it over. "Rap God Eminem and rival MGK found naked adrift at sea together. Nude!"

For what felt like the millionth time that day Colson cackled, long neck stretching out while he threw his head back. "We- haha- We don't both have to be naked! Why would you take your shorts off too? You actually wanna skinny dip with me?"

"God no. I don't think I'd ever get the sand out of my ass. Fuck I've been sitting down this whole time and there's some inside my thighs." 

Colson was less graceful when he stood up, full on jostling the umbrella with his head. Fingers curling around the older rapper's abandoned hat to slap it back ontop of his head. "That's half the fun of going to the beach. Getting sand in all kinds of-"Their eyes met in a brief flirty gaze. "Uncomfortable places."

The wink that followed was all the encouragement Marshall needed to start walking towards the beach. Eyes rolling so hard he thought they might get stuck in the back of his head. The sooner they got down to the shore the sooner he could get back to comfort of a nice soft hotel bed.

And promptly screw the blondes brains out.

[oyesmendes]

love is...

a/n: everything i dreamed of with the right person. this is a WIP that i’ll be adding onto whenever i have new ideas!! just bc love is alot of things and there are many concepts that i adore. ❤️

love is walking your dog on a Saturday morning no matter how tired you are.

There was no explanation as to how Luke and Quinn fell in love with one another, it just happened. They were like two peas in a pod, puzzle pieces that fit perfectly with one another. Maybe they had their dogs to thank, but neither of them would ever admit that.

The pair met each other on a Saturday morning, where Luke was dragging Petunia on a walk while Quinn was being dragged by Bowie. The park was quiet seeing that it was only 8AM, but Quinn had to get the energy out of Bowie or she’d never have a moment of peace during the day. Luke and Petunia on the other hand, they didn’t have a reason to be at the park but up till today, Luke was thankful that he was.

“Oh come on Bowie, don’t shove your face into her ass” Quinn tugged on the leash, pulling her German Shepard towards her.

“S’alright, I don’t think she’d mind having a new friend. Isn’t that right, Petunia.” Luke cupped the face of his dog, planting a kiss on the top of her head. Quinn smiled at him, then releasing the tug that she had on Bowie. He ruffled the top of Bowie’s head, earning a bunch of kisses from the large dog.

“I’m Luke.”

“I’m Quinn.” They shook hands like normal strangers but it was no doubt that they noticed the beauty of the other person - Quinn saw the way Luke’s eyes shone under the light, and he saw how Quinn’s smile was brighter than the sun. They let both their dogs off the leash, allowing them to get to know each other as their parents interacted. Little did any of them know that the two dogs would become best friends, just like their parents did.

It’s like the warmth of the sun rays hitting your skin

They were out on a hike again, this time without their dogs. The afternoon sun beating down on the pair mercilessly as they hiked uphill. Her hand was intertwined with his, the skin to skin contact was sweaty, but comforting. It had only been three months since they started going out with each other, a month since they shared their first ‘I love you’ and two weeks since she met his best friends. Everything seemed to be going at top speed, but it all felt right to Luke, like things had fallen into place and he was finally seeing light again. Quinn enjoyed these moments with him as well, getting to know Luke for who he was off-stage, as a normal human being.

It took them three hours to reach the end of the trail, the magnificent view of LA right below their feet. Luke had his hand around her shoulder, Quinn’s arms wrapped around his waist as they took in the sight. They always stood like this at the end of their hikes - just to take in the view and bask in the sun. They talked about their lives while they hiked, what they had missed before they found each other. Quinn told him about her massive family, her boring 9 to 5 job, her favourite food, and anything she could think of. Luke told her about his extraordinary job as a musician, the travelling and his bandmates who he called his brothers.

They’d drive to either of their homes, dogs bounding at them when they entered. Quinn would dance while she cooked, and Luke would hum softly to the tunes while admiring his girl. They would kiss more than cook, often times causing a scene with their food.

“Luke! The pasta!” Water was overflowing out of the pot due to their lack of attention to it. She’d panic but Luke would laugh it off, saying how they should order takeout the next time. Though throughout the rest of their relationship, no one ever recalled them ordering takeout. 

It is midnight driving with no destination

“You sure we should leave the dogs alone at this hour?” Quinn questioned as she put on her sneakers, Luke grabbing both their jackets in his hand.

“They’d be fine, they’re both well trained. Besides, they’re probably tired out after hanging out with each other the entire day.” Quinn still had her worries, but she wouldn’t pass off an opportunity to be with \ Luke, so off they went. They were driving on the somewhat quiet streets of Downtown LA, no destination in mind. Just soft music playing and talking about the little things in life. Quinn had a bag of McDonalds on her lap, feeding fries to Luke two at a time as he drove onto a street that up to the hills. He stopped at a random parking lot, one with a view of the skyline and they both got out of the car to sit on the hood. She was snuggled in his arms, fries and chicken nuggets devoured a long time ago.

“Quinn?” She hummed in response.

“Do you want to get married?” He looked down at her. Her head was resting on his chest, a soft smile graced her lips.

“Are you proposing right now?”

“No, but I would like to in the near future.” She sat up so her eyes met his. He watched as her hands grazed his cheeks, across his lips and along his jaw before she leaned in to press her soft lips against his. She smiled into the kiss, just like always because it felt good, she felt happy.

“I would love to marry you, Luke Hemmings.”

But love is also ugly

“Don’t you dare put this on me, Quinn.”

“Put this on you? Fuck, who was the one who walked into the house all somber and moody? Who was the one that snapped at me when all I did was ask how you were?” He could see the fire in Quinn’s eyes, the anger bubbling in her chest.

“I don’t need you breathing down my neck every second of the day!”

“I’m not doing that!”

“Fuck!” Luke swiped his hands across the kitchen island, throwing the beer bottle to the floor. Quinn’s eyes widened as she took a step back, wrapping her arms around her torso. The dinner she spent the afternoon cooking was now long forgotten, sitting ice cold on the dining table. She looked at Luke who had his hands gripping the counter top so tightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he breathed. Quinn put her hand atop Luke’s, stroking it softly. She already had her keys in her pocket, hoodie over her T-shirt and Bowie’s leash in her hand.

"I-I should go."

"Don't." Luke said barely over a whisper.

And you have to realise, it’s not always 50/50.

Quinn approaches him slowly, hand resting on his back. She hears him sob, tears dripping onto the counter top. Her touch brings him back to reality, pulls him out of those thoughts and his grip loosens from the table. She takes this chance to move him so his body faces hers.

"Don't go" He chokes out. Quinn could feel her heart physically break from the sound of his words. She cups his face in her hands so their eyes meet.

"Okay, I'm not leaving. I'm here." He leans his head on her shoulder, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. She tries to take as much of his 6’3” body into her tiny frame, rubbing circles on his back. She lets him cry his heart out, and babble incoherent words.  

"I just want to love you in the way you deserve." Luke pulls away first, wiping the tears that stained his cheeks.

"Baby, you are doing that. You’ve always done that.”

"No, not on days like this. I can't give you what you deserve when I'm like this." His head is now hung low, back pressed to the kitchen sink behind him. She approaches him, hands intertwined with his. Quinn kisses his knuckles softly and brings his hands to her chest.

“You can, and you always have. Lu, you’ve given me your everything the past eight months we’ve been together. You’re human and it’s impossible to always give me the same amount of affection and love every day, you need to understand that. This is life - we give, we take and somewhere along the way we might lose some; but that doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Through it all, love is crazy and it works, especially between the right people.

Quinn bounces on her feet as she’s stood in the arrival hall of the airport, a huge sign in her hand that reads ‘I’m looking for Quinn Barker’s Boyfriend!’ In neon yellow against a black background. She spots his tall figure a mile away, head of curls hidden under a hoodie with his large suitcases in tow. He was too engrossed in a conversation with Michael that he nearly misses her. Thankfully, his brothers had long noticed her striking sign, a smirk forming on their face once Luke noticed her.

It felt like a scene from the movies when his eyes locked with hers. She was running towards him and he opened his arms for her to crash straight into him. Tears of joy filled both their eyes, finally being able to hold the other person after being apart for six months. Quinn grinned as she pulled away, reaching into her jacket pocket to take out a black velvet box.

“I have something for you.” She mumbles. Luke looks at her in surprise - is that box what he thinks it is? She opens it, and in it holds two gold rings. His smile grew even wider and her face was starting to hurt from the permanent grin on her face as well.

“You made me wait too damn long, Lu. So I’m gonna ask you - will you marry me?” He kisses her passionately at her words, murmuring a ‘yes’ as their lips moved. Luke picks her up from the floor to spin her around. Quinn squeals as her feet lifts off the ground, laughing and smiling like the idiot that she is. When he puts her down, she takes his ring and slips it on for him as he does for her.

“You’re crazy, future Mrs Hemmings.”

“Crazy for you, my love.”

[applsauss]

Romantic

Description: Romantic: consisting of or resembling a romance; idealistic, imaginative, marked by emotional appeal; a romantic person. Romantic, the word saturates Daisuke’s existence.

Fandom: 
Star Blazers/Space Battleship Yamato

Pairing: Daisuke Shima (Mark Venture)/Reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warning(s): None

A/N: I don’t know if there’s a fandom for this but I just love Mark Venture so goddamn much. I listened to ‘Space Song’ by Beach House while writing this.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


      Daisuke has never been one to feel romantic, to have his brain fuzz down until the only thoughts he can process are emotions. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s ever gotten truly carried away, and most of them have happened on the Yamato’s bridge: After a battle, after a warp, after something momentous, causing him to leap up and grapple with the person next to him - usually Kodai - shouting with joy, a wide grin on his face as he turns himself over to the relief of surviving for another day.

Daisuke has never been one to feel romantic, he’s always just felt like himself. He had a girlfriend once, but broke up with her after a month because he felt like she was prying too much into his personal business. Kodai had choked on his laughter when Daisuke confessed his reasoning while they were still in school - and Daisuke has never been one to feel romantic, he was under the impression that moments like in the old movies where the Earth was still full and beautiful didn’t exist. 

He didn’t think that light could fall so perfectly and hair could look so soft or a face could be so inviting. He didn’t think that a person could meet another’s gaze so softly, didn’t think people really flirted by sly innuendo, by trading compliments and grazing fingertips across bare skin, but they do, apparently, and he does, apparently, and so do you.

“And you do that for fun?” Daisuke asks with a warm chuckle, allowing himself to openly stare at your face for as long as he wants because he’s drunk off the warmth in his chest and if he’s not insane, then you really are flirting with him and he really should play this game with you for as long as he possibly can.

You laugh with him, a cute expression on your face as you meet his gaze, unwavering, like you know something he doesn’t, but are willing to let him in on the secret. He doesn’t mind the expression at all, revels in it, in fact. 

“We should go sometime.” You smile, then look back out the window to stargaze. “When we get back, I mean. I’ll take you to the peak, we can go at your pace,” you say wistfully, “I’m sure the hike would still be worth it, even if all the vegetation’s burnt off. The lake was beautiful.”

You’d been telling him about your favourite hike near your home; just two short miles with an elevation gain of over two-thousand feet - a piece of cake, you’d described it as. 

“I’d kill for some fresh air anyways,” you say.

You play this game with him often. You regail him with some outrageous story of an athletic feat - usually to do with hiking or snowboarding, sometimes swimming - and then once he expresses the proper wonder and disbelief, you suggest he go with you next time, like you really mean to show him your home, one of the last places on Earth to be destroyed by planet bombs. He’d been living without the sun for six years before your family had been forced to relocate. There’s a smidge of jealousy in that thought.

“I wouldn’t make it halfway,” Daisuke counters, voice so smooth it nearly startles him. His eyes dart down to your hips when you sway closer to him, and he sucks his cheek between his teeth to try and ignore the way satisfaction blooms in his chest. 

“But you’re a military jock, aren’t you?” You nudge him with your elbow and tilt your head back to stare up at him. He bites his cheek harder. 

Most people are shorter than him, you’re no exception, and he’s never thought much about his height except for the passing smugness he feels when Kodai has to glare up at him until now. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the way you stare up at him through your eyelashes. He’s unfamiliar with the masculine sort of pride pooling in the bottom of his stomach.

You’re alone with him on the observation deck, leaning against the railing and watching the stars pass by the Yamato, and the darkness creates an atmosphere he’s never quite experienced so strongly before. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Dude!” You laugh, “You’re fit. I’m sure you’d be fine.

Daisuke snorts in surprise. “Oh, I’m fit, am I?”

You laugh again, an almost embarrassed expression on your face, maybe even a blush, but he can’t tell because of the damp lighting. “Sure,” you say, “I mean, I see you at the gym all the time.” 

Oh, Daisuke is well aware that you see him often at the gym. He sees you often as well, and he’s not so shameless as to stare, but he’d have to be blind to not notice the way the muscles in your core tense when you do pull-ups, or the way your thighs contract when you do squats. Everyone aboard the Yamato has a required exercise regiment to keep their bodies in working order, but yours is the only one he’s interested in.

He’s caught your gaze in the mirror more than a couple times, and at first, he was mortified at being discovered, but after he mentioned it to Kodai, who suggested that it must mean you were looking at him as well, he grew a little confident. Maybe he would even, at times, get carried away trying to impress you with the number of chest presses he could do in a row.

You give a big yawn, covering your mouth with your palm, and the sound you make strikes a chord in Daisuke. “Jeez. I’m tired. It’s way past my bedtime, you know.” 

Daisuke rolls his eyes. Your ridiculous sleeping schedule is already a hot topic of conversation within your friend group. “I know. Then go off to bed, now. Like an old man.” 

You snort and smack his chest lightly with the back of your hand. “Shut up.” Then take a step back and look him up and down with a slight smile playing at your lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Shima.” 

“Yea,” he says mildly as you turn and walk away, distracted by thoughts of how much better his first name would sound coming from your lips and what it would feel like to kiss you. “Good night.” 

You don’t take whatever emotion he’s feeling with you when you exit the observation deck. Instead, whatever it is you’ve stirred up in him, soft affection, the excitement that comes along with trying something new, determination to win your heart, lingers as he does, staring at the doorway you disappeared through. And then he casts his gaze out into the infinite field of stars stretching out along the Yamato. 

He leans forward over the railing, then cranes his head towards the back of the ship, in the direction he figures Earth is. A sense of longing builds up in his chest for his home. He wrings his hands together, and notes that they’re clammy. He can’t tell if it’s from talking to you or the sudden bout home-sickness as he thinks about his home the way it used to be and all there is to save. 

He wonders how his parents are doing, if his brother is behaving and doing well in school. Jiro doesn’t even remember the feeling of the sun on his skin, how could a child deserve a life like that? 

A burning sense of injustice takes up residence in his chest the more he thinks about the way the Earth used to be. All his memories of green are faint and barely his own; He was so young when the planet bombs first hit Okinawa. He only remembers humid air; A town with hot summers and mild winters. He remembers lying like a starfish on the living room floor with his friend as they let the fan blow cool air over them. He remembers a suburb with leafy trees and all sorts of bugs crawling up salty, sweaty legs. 

It was nothing like the home you’d described to him, a forest of pines and a cold, rocky ocean traversed by freighters. You’d told him about the way a local dock smells and how smooth lake water is to the touch; What fog feels like on the skin and the way foghorns bounce around in your head. It’s strange, how both his home and yours exist on the same planet. How now, he also longs for a home that he’s only visited through your words, but it is home nonetheless.

Earth is red now, like a desert, and that’s the only way he’s ever seen it in the flesh. It’s all that exists now. 

In old textbooks, it was described as the green planet. He wonders if one day, he’ll get to see it live up to its name from space. He wonders if you’d get to see it too, standing next to him after all of this is miraculously over. If there’d ever be a quiet moment where the two of you might be together to reflect on all of this. 

It’s a romantic thought. He lets himself keep it because when he’s faced with the end, he knows he’ll need it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-


Masterlist in blog desc.

[the-monkeies-girl]

Show Me The Stars. [ Brian May Oneshot. ]

 Listen here. This is based off my College era headcanon for Brian.  

I could not resist!

Title: Show Me The Stars.

Pairing: BoRhap! Brian May x Reader.

Words: 1208

Rating: T. ( VERY FLUFF ) 

Summary: You’re star gazing. Or as you like to all it, Brian gazing.

It’s early 1967. Brian May was about a year away from graduating school with Honors in physics. He had told you the specifics of his degree many times, but, it all boiled down to space. He loved it, the mystery, the allure and the prospect of finding something much larger was always appealing to Brian. But, on this fateful night, the only thing that he found attractive was you seated next to him in an open field. You were seated on a plush blanket, a few smaller ones wrapped around your shoulders and Brian’s to keep you warm. You were holding the lid of a thermos, sipping the hot chocolate slowly as your eyes scaled the sky above. It was beautiful as if a painter had taken a black canvas and splattered white, gold and sometimes even pink and purple paint all over to create the Milky Way. You were breathless and Brian found it striking to watch your lips form words that he couldn’t hear. Words that were encouraging and awestruck, he hoped. Holding a beat-up telescope Brian had gotten for his birthday many years ago, he looked through the eyepiece once again, his nose scrunching cutely as he closed one eye to do so. “Here, (Name)!!” He scooted his telescope over gently and urged you to lean forward to see what he had found. The excitement in his voice was just too pure and too amazingly passionate that you found your heart fluttering with equal emotion as you looked through the telescope. “That’s a bloody planet you’re looking at! Venus! Isn’t it amazing that we can see a whole ‘nother world from here? Basically, our own backyard…”

“Wow…” You gasped softly, readjusting yourself a bit so you could sit the lid down for a moment. “That’s so amazing!!” The topic of discussion was a needle in a haystack. There were so many bright objects in the sky that Venus seemed dull in comparison, but still, it was miraculous to see another planet so vividly as if you could reach out and touch it with your fingers.

“Isn’t it?” He scooted a bit closer to you, your shoulders now rubbing against each other. Neither of you seemed to mind the intimacy. “Here.” He took the telescope from you and rested it back in front of him once more. “I can show you Mars. You know how the surface is red? That’s how it got its name, from the God of War because it resembled blood, it actually does glow red when the sun hits it!” He wiggled his eyebrows comically, looking up to the sky with just his bare eyes. There was no need for a telescope this time around. It should have been easy to spot. And, indeed it was. “Right…” He pointed with his slender fingers and your eyes instinctively followed to where he was gesturing, “There. See it? Do you see it?”

You saw it. Very clearly but that view only lasted a few moments before you found your gaze dropping back to Brian’s face. He was clearly enjoying himself, nearly bouncing out of his skin next to you as he got to properly express his love for the sky though there were moments when you weren’t sure what he was talking about. You reached downwards and touched his thigh softly, Brian’s eyes dropping and landing on that gesture. You wanted to listen to him talk all about space, about theories and the mathematics that came with it for hours and hours and he was more than willing to pile on the information. You’d even ask him questions when he gave you the chance, which to Brian, was an extreme form of endearment. But, at this time… This exact moment in this exact spot, Brian found himself complete speechless. There was nothing for him to say as you held his thigh affectionately, your eyes locking with his. The only proper light that was around the two of you was coming from the starlight above and it was too romantic to pass up. You knew what you wanted and from the way that Brian stared back at you, you figured that he wanted it just as much. Almost blindly, he lifted a hand up and rested it on the side of your face. It was nearly the size of your entire face which made you chuckle. Brian was tall and lanky with a wash of tight curls, though, he often times tried to tame them for they weren’t his favorite attribute. You loved them, though. You loved the way that they framed his face, the way that your fingers tucked back pieces like they were doing at that very moment. You brushed his hair back and gave him a smile, saying, “Thanks for showing me the stars, Bri. I had a good time tonight.”

“My pleasure. You know, tonight doesn’t have to end...” He drew his bottom lip in slowly and searched your face for some sort of sign that it was okay for his lips to meet yours. It was okay to kiss you, it was okay to be this close to you. Brian could almost hear his heart beating in his chest as he began babbling slightly out of nerves, “If you ever need a lesson on astrology, I’m your man. I can draw you charts of the stars and their alignments, I can name you the constellations even, help you with math---”

You had leaned inwards and pressed your lips against his very gently, succeeding in getting him to be quiet. With one hand on shoulder and the other on his thigh, you managed to balance yourself against him to land a kiss on his soft mouth, now leaving him slightly perplexed as you pulled away with a smile. “Brian.”

“Hmmm?” He hummed, seemingly in a trance as he lifted a hand and set it against his bottom lip. He’d just been kissed by you. Kissed. By. You. KISSED. His mind was going a thousand miles an hour or so it felt.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmmm, yeah. Just,” He chuckled breathlessly and fell backwards. You followed his movement and laughed, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you, “Did you really just kiss me or am I just dreaming?”

“I can do it again if you don’t think it happened the first time.”

“I know it happened,” He shut his eyes and smiled that smile that caused something to stir happily inside of you. It was a smile, you noticed, reserved only for you which made it all the more better when Brian let it crack along his face. “But I’m not opposed to some back-up proof.” Giggling lightly, you sat up against his chest and craned your head down, repeating the kiss you had given him a few seconds before. Your mouth pressed against his perfectly, melding together in a delicate dance of want and adoration. Brian sunk into it without any hesitation, one of his hands reaching up and cupping the back of your head. Your hair tickled his fingertips as he held you there above him. He didn’t need the stars. He didn’t even feel like he needed air. All Brian needed he felt… Was you.

Thanks for reading, ya’ll. Likes and reblogs are appreciated! <3

--Miss.Em.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Eight → in which Lilac snaps 

The Baudelaires stayed up all night studying. While Klaus and Lilac traded off sleeping and memorizing measurements, Nick had to forgo sleep entirely as he and Violet quizzed each other on meaningless trivia from Remora’s stories.

Solitude and Sunny, meanwhile finally figured out a way to make staples. Solitude would chase a crab into the corner of the shack and wave Babbitt above it, and when it reached up its claw to pinch, Solitude would quickly retract her precious frog and Sunny would throw forwards a metal sheet they’d swiped from the art room. The crab would pinch it and make a decent-sized staple. It was long and hard work, but it was better than nothing.

When the sun rose, shedding light into the shack, Lilac shook Klaus awake and said, “Klaus, how long was the brown pencil?”

“Six inches.” yawned Klaus.

“Good.” Lilac said.

“Alright, Vi,” Nick said, nervously shutting Duncan’s commonplace book, “What color were the cows on the dairy farm?”

“Brown and White.” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“Sunny, Solitude,” Lilac asked, “You got your staples?”

Sunny threw forwards the last of the metal sheet, and when the crab pinched it in half, she said, “Bene,” meaning, “We’ve got it!”

“Good. Gather them all up.” Lilac said. “We’ll wait outside the shack for our teachers.”

“When do you think the Quagmires’ll get back?” Violet yawned.

“Hopefully they’ll go to bed after class.” Lilac said nervously.

The Baudelaires quickly went outside, where Sunny and Solitude carried their staples. Solitude sat on Nick’s lap as they waited for their teachers to arrive, playing with his jacket as Babbitt hopped around in the grass. Violet and Lilac helped Sunny practice walking, and Klaus just stared at the sky, muttering measurements to himself so he didn’t forget them.

Within a few minutes, the children looked up to see Vice Principal Nero, Ms Bass and Mr Remora coming out of the administration building and walking towards them. They stood up, and Lilac said quickly, “If we don’t pass-”

“That won’t happen.” Violet said.

“I’ll protect you.” Lilac finished. “I promise.”

“We’ll protect each other.” Nick said, carefully placing Solitude on the ground, she held out her hands, and Babbitt leapt up to her, eventually settling in her pocket once again.

The adults finally reached them, and Vice Principal Nero said, “Well, orphans, I sure hope you have been studying, because I told your teachers to make your tests extra hard. And I have lots of thick papers for the toddlers to staple, so they better get to work. Now, Mr Remora and Ms Bass will take turns asking you questions until one of you gets an answer wrong, and then you flunk. Solitude and Sunny will sit in the back and staple these papers into booklets of five papers each, and if your homemade staples don’t work perfectly, then you flunk.”

“That doesn’t seem-” Klaus began.

“A musical genius like myself doesn’t have all day to oversee exams.” Neero said, throwing his papers into a pile in front of the toddlers, tossing a stapler on top of it. “I’ve missed too much practice time already. Begin.”

Solitude and Sunny quickly began stapling, and Mr Remora said, “In my story about the donkey, how many miles did it run?”

“Six.” said Violet.

“Six.” Nero mimicked. “That can’t be correct-”

“Um, actually, it is.” said Remora, taking a bite of a banana he’d brought with him.

“How wide was the notebook with the yellow cover?” Ms Bass asked.

“Nineteen centimeters.” said Lilac.

“Nineteen centimeters.” Nero mocked.

“Correct.” said Ms Bass.

“In my story about the mushroom,” said Mr Remora, “What was the name of the chef?”

“Maurice.” Nick said.

Mr Remora frowned at him. “Who are you?”

“Nick. Your student. Who has definitely been to class every day.” Nick said, glancing at Solitude and Sunny, who were stapling very fast, but very well.

“How long was chicken breast number seven?” Ms Bass asked.

“Fourteen centimeters and five millimeters.” Klaus said.

“That’s right.”

“Oh, hurry up and flunk them.” Nero said. “I’ve never gotten to expel any students, and I’m really looking forward to it.”

“In my story about the dump truck, what color were the rocks it carried?”

“Gray and brown.” Violet said.

“Correct.”

“How deep was my mother’s casserole dish?”

“Six centimeters.” Lilac said.

“Correct.”

The exam continued on for a very long time. Nick kept bouncing his leg to keep himself focused, and Klaus kept nervously adjusting his glasses and glancing towards the horizon, as if Duncan and Isadora would run up to offer encouragement. Lilac braided and unbraided her hair while they talked, and Violet fiddled with her ribbon.

Finally, after Mr Remora had long finished his banana, he said, “Nero, there’s no use continuing. Violet and her brother are very fine students, and they’ve obviously studied hard.”

Ms Bass nodded. “I’ve never encountered more metric-wise children than Lilac and Klaus. And it looks like those toddlers are fine secretaries.”

“Yes.” Remora agreed. “Those booklets look gorgeous.”

“Tank you!” Solitude said brightly, mainly to hide the chirp Babbitt made from her pocket.

“Pilso.” Sunny muttered. “My stapling hand is sore.”

“But surely they must have flunked something!” Nero said. “I want to expel somebody!”

“Why don’t you expel Carmelita?” asked Remora. “She never pays attention in class.”

“I can’t expel her, she’s the most talented girl in the school.” Nero said.

They were interrupted, then, by a furious- and familiar- coughing.

“Baudelaires?” came Mr Poe’s voice. “What are you doing outside an old shack? This doesn’t seem like an appropriate meeting place.”

“Mr Poe!” Nick said.

Behind them, Mr Poe had arrived, holding a huge bag, full of smaller bags of candy. “Vice Principal Nero,” Poe said, “I received your telegram about fifty-four bags of candy, and Mulctuary Money Management thought I’d better deliver them myself. What exactly is going on?”

“The Baudelaires are being tested, clearly.” Nero said. “Lilac and Klaus on their memorization of measurements, Violet and Nick on their memorization of details, and Solitude and Sunny on their administrative assistance.”

“Administrative assistance?” Poe asked. “Egad! Those two should be in nursery school, not working as administrative assistants.”

“They also shouldn’t be sleeping in a shack.” Nick said.

“You’re sleeping in this shack?” Poe asked.

“That doesn’t matter.” Nero said. “Children, I just realized; these aren’t your only classes. You’ll have to be passed by your gym teacher, Coach Genghis. You see? Here he comes now!”

The Baudelaires froze for a moment, before turning around to see Coach Genghis approaching. He had very shiny eyes and a very wicked grin, and in his hands, he held a simple ribbon.

Lilac stared at it hard as Coach Genghis stopped near them. “Ah, hello.” he said. “I just came to tell you-”

“Where are they?” Nick shouted, furious.

“What have you done?” Violet cried.

“Why, here’s your ribbon.” Genghis said. “Vice Principal Nero, these children skipped-”

At that moment, to everyone’s shock, Lilac threw herself at the gym teacher, punching him hard in the stomach and then adding a kick for good measure, sending him stumbling backwards.

“Lilac!” Poe shouted.

Nick, too pissed to be excited, rushed forwards and also threw a punch at the man. Violet raced after him, grabbing Genghis’s hand before he could land a hit on Nick, pulling it backwards.

“What did you do to them?” Lilac screamed, as Klaus raced forwards to help Violet hold the man’s arms back.

“Where are they?” Klaus shouted, sounding furious.

“Let them go, you piece of shit!” Violet screamed.

“Give them back!” Lilac tried to kick at him again, only to let out a frustrated screech when Ms Bass grabbed her and pulled her back, putting her in a kind of headlock to prevent her from further attacking the gym teacher.

Remora ran forwards and dragged back Nick, who started kicking and trying to bite him. Violet was pulled back by Poe, while Nero yanked back Klaus.

“Baudelaires!” Poe shouted, as Violet struggled and started screaming out curses. “What has come over you?”

“You see!” Nero said proudly. “Look at how wild these children are! I must expel them for attacking our wonderful gym teacher.”

“Where are the Quagmires! What did you do to them?” Lilac screamed.

“Give them back!” Klaus screamed. “Give them back!”

“Why, those two twins were simply put in detention in the kitchens for aiding you in your skipping class.” Genghis said, smiling wickedly.

“They’re not twins!” Nick screamed.

“You are a liar, and you are Count Olaf!” Violet shouted.

“Now, children!” Poe said. “Look at this man. There’s no way he is-”

At that moment, Solitude and Sunny gave each other a nod and threw themselves at Coach Genghis, grabbing onto his left shoe. They bit and pulled, and Genghis let out a frustrated cry and raised his leg to kick them off. And while Solitude and Sunny did go flying, so did his shoe.

The adults stared at his bare ankle for a moment, looking at his eye tattoo. That moment was long enough for Lilac to elbow Bass in the ribs and break away, and for Nick and Violet to quickly copy her. It didn’t take much for Klaus to slip away from Nero, and Lilac managed to grab Coach Genghis’s turban as he started to run, ripping it away. He glanced back, and Poe shouted, “Egad! He has one eyebrow!”

“We don’t have time for this!” Nick shouted, picking Solitude up from the ground and running.

Klaus grabbed Sunny, and Lilac shouted, “He has the Quagmires!”

The Baudelaires took off running after him. After running for several days on end, they were much faster than the adults behind them. They raced after Olaf, and as they turned a bend around a building, they saw a truly horrifying sight.

Several feet away, barely visible, the white-faced women, dressed in the uniforms of the kitchen staff at Prufrock, were dragging Isadora and Duncan into a long, black car.

“No!” Lilac screamed.

“Duncan! Isadora!” Klaus shouted.

“Quagmires!” Violet cried.

“Olaf!” shouted one of the White-Faced Women. “We found the brats in the Library, they’d climbed in the window-”

“Baudelaires!” Isadora shouted at the top of her lungs, terror behind her eyes. “We found the book!”

“The Incomplete History!” Duncan shouted. “It was in the librarian’s desk!”

“We took notes!” Isadora cried. “It’s awful! There are horrible things-”

“Everything’s connected! The spyglasses, our parents-”

Olaf jumped into the front seat of the car, starting it as the Baudelaires almost caught up. A white-faced lady forced Duncan into the backseat, and as Isadora was pushed in, she screamed one thing.

“VFD! VFD!”

“Isadora!” Lilac cried. “Isadora, just hold on-”

The white-faced woman forced her into the car, leaping in after her, and within a few moments, the car drove off.

The Baudelaires ran after it, not caring that they likely wouldn’t be able to reach it. And sure enough, within a few minutes, the car drove out of sight. But just before it did, they saw Isadora push herself out of the window and throw something to the ground.

They stopped as the car disappeared past the gates of Prufrock Prep, and slowly, Klaus leaned down to pick up the spyglass. Isadora had thrown them the spyglass.

Lilac took one look at it and then collapsed onto the ground. “Lilac-” Violet began, but she didn’t know what to say.

Behind them, Poe and the teachers had caught up, and they were having some kind of argument. But none of the Baudelaires noticed or cared. Lilac was on her knees, hugging herself and sobbing uncontrollably. Violet dropped beside her, numbly pulling her close. Klaus stared at the spyglass as if he couldn’t believe it was there, and then he also started to cry, slowly sinking to the ground and putting down Sunny, who was wailing. Nick knelt beside him, putting one arm around him and using the other to hold Solitude, who simply pressed her face against his jacket.

They sat for a very long time, just crying and shaking and holding each other. Eventually the boys and toddlers moved to Violet and Lilac, and all six of them huddled together, just embracing each other and crying for their friends.

Then, quietly, Sunny whispered, “VFD.”

Nick and Violet nodded to her silently, while Lilac continued to sob, and Klaus cried, hugging himself and starting to rock back-and-forth, refusing to look anyone in the eye.

It took a long, long while before they all stopped crying, even after Poe piled them into his car and started driving them back to his place, saying something about a new guardian and expulsion, not noticing that none of them listened.

That night, all crammed together into the Poe living room, Lilac whispered to her siblings, “We’re getting them back. I promise you. We’re getting them back.”

But all of them knew that there was a very good chance that promise wouldn’t be kept.