#give me grandkid sleepovers!

[cmivr]

Hello! Since you don't mind us asking you some questions, then what would you usually do in your dr? Like, what are your chores and such if you're not hanging out with Camilo?

okay to clear sth up 😭 i don't actually spend all my time with camilo! i just talk about him a whole lot skhsjwhd i only see him for 2-4 hours on weekdays and 6-10 hours on weekends! sometimes longer if i sleepover, and sometimes i don't even see him at all!

anyways, i spend my time helping out with my family at the shop! my papa visits the farmers to gather materials and checking the quality. my tio's in charge of cutting and sizing fabrics. my mami does most of the sewing and color coding and designing. i do a little bit of everything! i'm also the one taking measurements and delivering all the stuff

i also hang out with my other friends too! there's this girl named natalia, she's 17 and she manages her mami's cute little restaurant that i frequented so much that we became close. i would sit at the counter and chat with her and possibly sweet talk her into giving me a free dessert. also carmen! he's a very kind guy whom i met at the fields when i was helping my dad pick out the best cotton. me and his baby sisters are good friends and we'd play in muddy puddles together.

i'm also at casita pretty often. i practically almost memorize the whole house! i spend my time gossiping with isabela and dolores, talking about fashion and sewing with bel, discussing with pepa about dresses she might want to order, helping julieta out in the kitchen, sharing stories with abuela and the grandkids, goofing around on the rock climbing wall in luisa's room as we just chat about anything and everything, and i'm also very close with antonio! gosh, antonio is adorable, literally my second favorite madrigal. don't tell camilo but i'd honestly pick little tonito over him anyday

i went on a little rant there whoopsie 🏃‍♀️

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Three

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Morgan, various characters in other chapters

Warnings: language, sexual innuendos and implications

Chapter Summary: Reader has dinner with her family and gets grilled even harder than her food. But she’s turned to a light simmer when Bucky takes her out for their first date.

Author’s Note: This chapter is fucking monstrous lol. I did not expect it to be this long so it might be a couple extra days before the next chapter so I can catch up! I’m also not sure if my Italian is accurate so I apologize in advance. I used to work for a man named Gennaro from Naples and he called me “bella” so hopefully I’m sort of right? If you like the story so far, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Part One • Part Two

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

Dinner that night was tense, to say the least. It was nice to have your dad, step-mom, sister, and uncles Happy and Rhodey over again, but your dad wasn’t quick to forget what he saw earlier.

“What was that with Barnes today?” Tony asked as you all sat around the dining room table in your midtown flat, poking away at the remnants of your meals.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

Your dad just gave you an incredulous look. “You know what I mean.”

You sighed and avoided meeting his eyes. “I was just working on his arm, dad. I didn’t wanna make him lie down on a hard lab table while I poked around to do what you wanted and quiet his arm,” you explained.

“Wait, Barnes as in Bucky Barnes?” Uncle Rhodey clarified.

“Yeah,” your dad confirmed, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found her kneeling between his legs while he sat shirtless on the couch.”

“You’re sleeping with Bucky?!” Rhodey asked.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone!” you defended, dropping your fork onto your plate. “I’ve known him for a month.”

“That’s never stopped your father,” Pepper mumbled under her breath, making you huff out a laugh despite your current grilling.

“Listen, when I said ‘no fraternizing with coworkers,’ I meant it,” your dad said.

“Please stop saying ‘fraternizing.’ It’s weird.”

Tony sighed and crossed his arms. “No ‘slumber parties’ with coworkers,” he rephrased.

This made Morgan perk up in her seat, having spent the past couple minutes confusedly watching you and your dad bicker.

“Can we have a slumber party, [Y/N]?” she asked.

“Yes, honey, we can have a slumber party,” you responded.

“Tonight?” she continued.

At this, you pointedly looked at your dad and raised your eyebrows as a way of saying ‘are we done now?’ You could tell he didn’t want to end the conversation, but you were grateful for the sudden change of topic. Tony uncrossed his arms and leaned against the table as he replied to your sister.

“If your big sister says it’s okay, you can have a slumber party tonight.”

Morgan lit up like the Fourth of July, quickly listing off all the movies she wanted to watch even though you knew she’d fall asleep halfway through the first movie.

As your family packed up to leave, leaving Morgan since she had a drawer of clothes for the impromptu sleepovers you’ve had before, you calmed your racing heart before saying the words that would either make your father more suspicious or completely quash his suspicions.

“You’ll have to pick her up by four tomorrow. I have a date.”

All of the adults turned to face you. Pepper had a huge smile on her face, clearly excited for you, but your dad and Rhodey looked ready to fight. Happy looked curious, maybe even worried, but he played a big role in raising you so while Tony was the overprotective parent, Happy was the comforting parent (not that he’d ever let anyone know that).

“A date?” The tone of your dad’s voice made you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to go on dates.”

Your dad let out a quiet harumph at that, but understood where you were coming from. “I know, sweetheart. Forgive me for being a bit overprotective of my little girl.”

“I get it. I appreciate your concern,” you said with a smile, “but this is good for me. You want grandkids eventually, right?”

“Oh god,” your dad groaned, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m not old enough to be a grandpa but I’m old enough to have a heart attack at the mention of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“So what’s this person’s name?” Pepper piped up. You visibly tensed and internally panicked. You couldn’t just admit it was Bucky after denying anything there. But his name was technically pretty common...

“His name is James.”

Rhodey snapped his fingers and pointed at you as he said, “I like him already.”

‘Yeah, sure you do,’ you thought. The sight of your dad narrowing his eyes at you and crossing his arms as he stood in the entryway of your apartment made you nervous. Maybe James wasn’t good enough to get him off your trail (probably because he was right).

“How did you meet this guy?” Tony asked.

If anyone else had asked, you would’ve said ‘work,’ but that’s the last place you could say to your dad — with whom you worked.

“Uhh, at the grocery store. We accidentally followed each other and got a lot of the same food so he jokingly accused me of stalking him and we just hit it off,” you rattled off. It’s a good thing he didn’t know how your friend Monique met her girlfriend or he’d know you were lying.

“That’s so cute,” Pepper cooed. She was definitely the more relaxed of your parents, possibly because she wasn’t your biological mom. She had been raising you since you were ten though, so she played a big part in your upbringing.

“Text me his last name so I can run a background check,” your dad said. You’d love to think he was joking, but you knew he was serious.

And as much as you knew you’d regret it, you had to make a joke…

“His last name is Barnes,” you said, keeping your face as serious as possible. “James Barnes. I actually know his middle name too: Buchanan.”

“[Y/N] [Y/M/N] [Y/L/N], you better be joking right now,” Tony said. He was already getting red in the face, clearly unenthused at the prospect of you dating the man who, admittedly, killed his parents — your grandparents. Yeah, understandable.

“I’m obviously kidding,” you said, forcing a laugh. “It’s just funny that they have the same first name and you’re so anti-Bucky.”

“You’re gonna send me to an early grave,” he muttered. “I’m going home before I actually have a heart attack.”

You said your goodbyes and ‘I love you’s before you and Morgan put on your pajamas and set up a pillow fort in the middle of your living room to watch her favorite sleepover movie: “Shrek.”

As the movie went on, you leaned back in the fort to take a photo of Morgan with the movie in the background. Well, the back of Morgan’s head as she was engrossed in the movie she’d seen a million times.

[Image attached] She’s got her teddy bear but where’s my Bucky Bear? 🥺

Across the city, Bucky’s phone buzzed from its spot on the kitchen counter as he made himself a late dinner. He didn’t recognize the number, but smiled when he saw the picture of who he assumed was your sister or niece.

I never got an invite. Looks like more fun than my night.

You smiled to yourself when you saw his reply, rolling your eyes at the lack of exclamation points and emojis. Typical man.

What does your night look like?

Eating a late dinner and talking to you.

Talking to me isn’t fun?! I’m hurt 😢

Not as fun as actually being with you.

Even though he wasn’t there and didn’t say it verbally, you could feel your cheeks get hot at his words.

There’s no way sweet talk like that didn’t get you in more than four beds.

You’re still on that? I swear doll, I have the same number as you.

Whatever you say! 🙄

There was a lull in conversation after that, giving you time to move your sister to lie on her back with pillows and blankets in the fort so she could sleep more comfortably.

Are we still going out tomorrow?

You let the next Shrek movie start automatically, but you didn’t pay any attention as you texted Bucky.

I’m still down if you are 👀

You sent him your address and let him know you’d wait on the front steps for him so he didn’t have to come all the way up. With the exchange of ‘good night’ messages, you drifted asleep to the sounds of Shrek 2.

•

The next morning, you somehow managed to wake up before your sister, then brought her back to the land of the living with the smell of French toast.

You spent your day watching another movie with Morgan before fixing lunch and taking her to a park down the road. Morgan’s childhood was definitely different from yours. Happy was the one who took you to parks and shopping, but Tony parented at home. Morgan would have the same early experiences, but the world knew Tony and Pepper had a daughter. They kept her identity hidden for now, waiting until she could decide if she wanted to reveal herself later in life. The world never knew about you.

And you had to be somewhat grateful for that. You still got all the perks of being a Stark — the money, the Tower, meeting the Avengers (and having James Rhodes as your godfather) — without the stress of fame. But part of you still wished you could talk about your father without keeping his occupation vague and referring to him as “Anthony” when telling stories instead of Tony.

Morgan also got to know her mom. You only spent the first seven years of your life with your mom before she was killed in a drive-by shooting. The police investigated it like crazy because everyone thought since it was Tony Stark’s wife, it had to be a targeted hit. But since she never took the same jogging route twice, all they came up with was an unplanned drive-by. You cherished the memories you had with her, but still openly welcomed Pepper when she came into the picture. She may not have played the same type of role in your life, but she helped shape your middle and high school years.

By the time you and Morgan got back to your place, she was exhausted, climbing back into the still-intact blanket fort to take a nap. When your dad and Pepper stopped by to pick her up, she was still knocked out.

“We’ll get out of your hair so you can get ready for your date,” your dad said with Morgan in his arms. “Send me this James guy’s last name. I still want to run a background check.”

“Dad,” you grumbled. “I already did my research. He’s clear.” Kind of. He technically has murdered hundreds of people, including your grandparents, but he’s reformed and fighting for the good guys now. Not that your dad would let it slide if you told him that.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned. “Let me know if you need to hide any bodies, okay?”

“You got it,” you said with a laugh as they headed out. You had two hours to get ready for Bucky, giving you plenty of time to look extra cute.

By the time six rolled around, you were all dolled up and ready to go. The autumn weather had you in a jacket and boots, but that just pulled your outfit together.

Your doorman Matt was standing inside the lobby when you ran downstairs, tossing him a small wave as you left.

“Have a good night, Miss [Y/L/N],” he said with a nod.

“See you later, Matt!”

You stood at the bottom of your building’s front steps, checking your phone and looking up and down the block for Bucky. It was six on the dot, so you figured he’d be there soon.

“Hey!” You looked up from your phone to see Bucky jogging toward you, a black leather jacket covering his arms and a black glove hiding his left hand. “Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t get away from Sam. Had to tell him I was gonna check out my old stomping grounds in Brooklyn.”

“You’re, like, 30 seconds late. I’m just glad you’re here,” you said with a smile. “So what are we doing tonight?”

Bucky’s smile faltered as he looked down at you. Your boots gave you a bit of a height bump, but Bucky still stood taller than you.

“I, uh, I kinda thought you had something planned,” he said softly.

“Oh, oops,” you laughed. “Well… what about those Brooklyn stomping grounds of yours? Care to show me around?”

Bucky lit up at the recommendation and started leading the way to the nearest subway stop. Before you started down the stairs, he paused and turned to you with a sour expression.

“I probably should’ve asked if you’d rather get a cab,” he said.

“Bucky, I take the subway to work every day. It’s fine.”

“Why do you take the train? You don’t live too far away.” You two made your way down the steps to the bustling station.

“It’s just easier. Less work for me,” you explained. “I didn’t take the train much as a kid so I like taking the opportunity now that I can.”

“Most people don’t willingly take the subway,” he laughed. “Steve and I always used to talk about how we’d be rich enough to have a car someday. But now that I could get any car I wanted, I don’t think I want one. I like the subway.”

“Even though it’s smelly and dirty?” you joked.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “It’s one of the things that still reminds me of home.”

The gentleness in his voice nearly brought you to tears. This man had been through so much and was still the sweetest soul you’d ever met. Forced into a war he didn’t want to join, experimented on, tortured and brainwashed, hunted by every government in the world, captured, frozen, and forced into another war and more battles he shouldn’t have to join. He just couldn’t catch a break.

“Well I’m excited to see what else reminds you of home,” you replied.

The trains to and through Brooklyn were relatively busy so you and Bucky couldn’t really talk much, but it was a Saturday night so you couldn’t blame people for getting out. It was tough to find seats, but Bucky was willing to stand to make sure you could have a seat. Ever the gentleman.

When you made it to Bucky’s Brooklyn stop of choice, he started telling you more stories from the ‘40s, like when Steve couldn’t get off the train in time and accidentally went down another stop so Bucky ran to the next stop and found Steve heading his way anyway. And how he and Steve followed his sister Rebecca on a date “to watch out for her,” he said, and her date thought they were stalking her and tried to beat them up. And all the fights he pulled Steve out of.

“Punk was a chihuahua who thought he was a Rottweiler.”

For a while, you two walked around the streets of Brooklyn just telling each other stories. You were careful about names you used, often just calling Happy “Uncle Harry” and Rhodey “Uncle James.”

Bucky showed you the movie theater he and Steve used to go to, which was surprisingly still in business. You walked past what used to be a diner Bucky frequented but was converted into a bridal shop.

“This used to be a magic store Steve loved,” he said, looking up at the bank on the corner of the street. “Things have changed a lot.”

You heard the nostalgia in his voice, clearly missing the New York he grew up to love. He had a soft smile on his lips as he reminisced, though.

“What about where you lived?” you asked. “Do you remember where that is?”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I could never forget that.”

Everything was within a fifteen minute walk of where you got off the subway so even though your feet were getting tired, you followed alongside Bucky as he led the way up and down the streets. Before too long, you strode up to a large brick building that had clearly been remodeled recently, if the fresh windows and front doors were any indication.

“It’s… a lot nicer than when I lived here,” Bucky said with a sigh. “But it’s been nearly 100 years so I can��t blame them for updating things.”

“Brooklyn is kind of booming now, too,” you added. “More people to appeal to, ya know?”

You stared up at him again, seeing that same lost look as before, like he wished to turn back time and show you the Brooklyn he knew. So you decided since he couldn’t do that, you’d show him the Brooklyn you knew.

“Come here. My turn to show you around,” you said, holding your hand out to him. He gave you a small smile before grabbing your hand in his and letting you pull him back to the subway.

Ten minutes later, you hopped off the train with Bucky in tow and headed to the little Italian restaurant you found while exploring the city a couple years before. It wasn’t anything elaborate; it was honestly more of a little hole-in-the-wall, but you liked the quiet atmosphere.

“Bella!” the owner shouted as you walked in.

“Hey Genny,” you smiled at him.

“Who’s this?” he asked as he approached you, raising his eyebrows when he saw Bucky.

“This is James,” you said. You opted against using his more common nickname to avoid any recognition.

“James, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Gennaro, but you can call me Genny. Welcome to my restaurant.” The two men shook hands before Genny ushered you two to a table and handed you menus. “Would you like to start with focaccia?”

“Yes please!”

“Con formaggi?”

“Si! Grazie!”

Gennaro left you and Bucky while he started your appetizer.

“You speak Italian?” Bucky asked.

“Definitely not,” you laughed. “I’ve just been coming here for a while and have picked up on some things Genny says. Like ‘bella’ means ‘beautiful,’ this pizza,” you pointed to your favorite pizza on the menu, “‘cinque formaggi’ means ‘five cheese.’ But I could never hold a conversation.”

“Un peccato,” Bucky sighed before flashing a smile at you.

“You speak Italian?!” you nearly shrieked. “No way! Don’t talk shit with Gennaro behind my back.” You pouted at Bucky, but knew he wouldn’t say anything bad about you. Maybe an embarrassing moment or two — like your dad walking in on you between his knees — but nothing negative.

“I picked it up pretty quickly back in the day,” Bucky explained. “Before I was sent to Germany, I was stationed in a small town in Italy for a while. The locals didn’t mind having us there because we kept the Nazis out, so they taught us some Italian when we were in town.”

“Maybe I should take Gennaro up on his offer to learn Italian,” you mused.

“Or you could learn from me,” Bucky was quick to offer. “I’ll teach you some stuff when you’re working on my arm.”

Your server arrived with the focaccia and water for both of you, before giving you more time to actually look at the menus instead of talking. You decided to split a bottle of red wine and two pizzas, one of your choice and one of Bucky’s. As the night went on, you and Bucky both opened up to each other even more than before. You could easily blame the buzz from a couple glasses of wine, but Bucky’s super soldier serum made you confused. His cheeks were flushed and he had more than half the bottle, so you wondered if maybe...

“Can you still get drunk?”

“Unlike Steve, yes. It takes more than this,” he said, lifting the nearly empty bottle of wine, “but since Steve and I received different serums, they work a little differently. I can definitely get drunk. Marijuana admittedly hits harder.”

You paused as you stared back at him, his elbows perched on the table and his clasped hands propped under his chin.

“Are you drunk now?”

“No,” he laughed quietly. “A little tipsy, sure, but not drunk by a long shot.”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, reluctantly accepting that he was just as buzzed as you but not quite drunk.

Before long, your server brought over your tab and you realized how empty the restaurant had gotten. Then you noticed the broom and mop the server had brought out to the floor, then the dark ‘open’ sign, and finally the clock on the wall.

“You closed 20 minutes ago and didn’t kick us out?” you shouted at Gennaro. “Genny, you can always kick me out! I feel bad!”

Gennaro walked over to your table as you scrambled for your wallet and handed the server your card to run.

“I can’t kick you out, bella. You and your moroso are welcome any time.”

“I think this poor girl would beg to differ,” you said as the server handed your card and signature slip back. She just laughed at your comment, agreeing without saying it outright.

You left a hefty tip and hugged Genny before you and Bucky, both still a bit tipsy, shuffled outside.

“Thanks for buying dinner,” Bucky said. “This means I get to pay next time, though.”

He said it so casually and you already planned on another date, but it still kind of caught you off guard.

“Next time?” You smiled up at him and took a step closer until you were almost toe-to-toe. “There’s gonna be a ‘next time’?”

“I sure hope there is,” he said quietly, his smirk sending a rush up your spine.

“If you insist,” you sighed. He knew better than to believe you weren’t excited for your future plans. “I’m cold. Care to get an Uber with me?”

He gently grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, pulling the loose opening of his jacket over your arms and wrapping his arms around you to help keep you warm.

“Well, yeah. I need to make sure you get home safe so ‘next time’ can happen,” Bucky said as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“You know, I don’t usually let men spoon me on the first date,” you joked as you tapped away to order an Uber.

“I can stop, if you want,” he teased.

You gripped his arm as he started to pull away. “I never said that.”

Bucky rode back to your place with you, keeping conversation casual as you both avoided the controversy you were about to face: to kiss on the first date or not. You never really had any issues with it before, but you already really liked Bucky. You didn’t want to risk messing it up by moving too fast. But what grown man would think a kiss on a first date was too fast? Well… maybe one born in the early 1900s…

Before your thoughts could throw you into a downward spiral, the driver pulled up outside your apartment complex. Bucky stepped out first and held the door open for you to scoot out after him. As you stood at the bottom of the stairs to your building, you felt those nerves creeping up on you again. God, you hadn’t felt this nervous about a date since high school.

“I had fun tonight,” Bucky said first, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Me too,” you smiled back. “I’m excited for what you plan for next time.”

Bucky laughed at this, the crinkle of his nose making your own smile grow. God, you wanted to invite him inside already. In your defense, you’ve known him for a full month and spent even longer getting heart-eyes over him in college.

But you reined in your hormones and just took a step closer to him to rest your hands on his chest. His right hand came up to rest on your waist, but he kept the metal hand in his pocket. With your hand placement, you could feel the thrum of his heartbeat and judging by the pace, you knew you were both on the same page. As you were trying to shove your nerves aside, Bucky asked the one question you were hoping for.

“Can I kiss you?”

Knowing he wanted this as much as you did relieved some of your nerves, but also made the moment that much more real. You smiled up at him and nodded your head.

“Yes, please do.”

You perched up on your toes to meet him halfway, letting his lips mold to yours. His hold on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer; you gripped the lapel of his jacket in your fists. Suddenly the cold of the night no longer existed. All you could feel was the warmth radiating off of him as he held you close. He pulled back for a second before diving right back in, this time nipping at your bottom lip. You giggled against him, but didn’t stop him from taking the innocent kiss a step further. Your hands slid from his chest to the nape of his neck before tangling into his long hair. The vibration from his moan as you tugged on his hair ran straight down your spine, making it even harder to leave the date alone.

Reluctantly, you both pulled apart just enough for your noses to brush against each other, the stubble of his beard still tickling your nose. You opened your eyes enough to see the smile on his lips as he pulled back a bit more to see your face.

“I’ll see you Monday?” you said quietly, as if speaking any louder would break you two out of your bubble.

“See you Monday, [Y/N],” Bucky replied just as quietly. His hand slipped from your waist as you backed away, biting your lip at him before you turned and scurried up the steps. Bucky stood on the sidewalk until he could see the light in your apartment flick on, just to make sure you were safe.

[rahleeyah]

A little follow up to this post; Elliot's new partner comes over for dinner.

The next day, Stabler comes in looking a little sheepish.

"Doing anything Friday?" He asks.

They've only been working together a month or two, and they don't really talk personal stuff, as evidenced by the fact that Stabler introduced him to his not-wife and didn't even bother to mention her connection to him. Stabler's never asked him about his weekend plans. Mark is immediately wary.

"Why?"

Stabler laughs.

"Listen, Liv wanted to know if you wanna come by for dinner. The boys have sleepovers that night."

Idly Mark wonders if all six of their kids are boys and where the hell they found six families willing to host them for sleepovers. Maybe some of them doubled up. His first instinct is to say no, but honestly, he's curious about her. Captain Benson. Olivia. Liv.

"Yeah all right," he says.

"You should bring your girl. If you want."

Mark raises an eyebrow at him, and Stabler lifts his hands in a "don't shoot the messenger' kind of way.

"Liv said I should ask," he says, like that explains everything.

"You always do everything she tells you to?"

Mark just wanted to tease him about being whipped, but Stabler's face gets kinda serious.

"Yeah," he says. "There's a lot of shit in my life went wrong that would've been right if I just listened to her the first go round. Took me thirty years but I've learned my lesson."

Thirty years. That's a hell of a long time, Mark thinks. Thirty years, six kids, four grandkids, and working the job the whole time. He doesn't know how they're still alive.

"Her name's Kelly," he says. His girl. "I'll bring her."

Stabler gives him a smile that's all teeth.

So Friday rolls around and Mark and Kelly turn up at the address Stabler gave them with a bottle of cab bc he says Liv only drinks red. It's a nice little house in Queens, on a nice little street, two big ass black suvs parked out front. His and hers tanks.

"Are you nervous?" Kelly asks him. He wants to say no. Why should he be nervous? He spends all day, every day, and some nights, too, with Stabler. He likes the guy. But then he's never had dinner with a Captain before. She definitely makes him nervous.

"Nah," he says, and kisses Kelly quick before they get out of the car.

Stabler answers the door in jeans and a black button down and no shoes. He's comfortable, in his own home, and Mark can smell dinner from the doorway.

"Elliot Stabler, this is Kelly (can't be arsed to pick a last name)."

"It's so nice to meet you," Kelly says as they shake hands. "Mark talks about you all the time."

"Back at you," Stabler says with a grin. It's bullshit, Mark hasn't told him anything, but he can't help thinking the man just did him a favor by lying. Kelly is smiling ear to ear.

"We brought this for you. Mark says your wife likes red."

"She's not my wife," Stabler says reflexively as he takes it. "But she'll love it. Come on."

There's bookshelves everywhere. Mark figures they must be hers, he didn't peg Stabler as much of a reader. There's pictures everywhere, too, but Stabler's walking too fast for Mark to get a good look at them. In the kitchen she's waiting for them, Captain Benson. Her heavy, dark hair is pulled back today, and she's wearing soft, casual black pants and a cream colored blouse. She doesn't look scary, at home like this. Stabler goes to her, passes her the wine with one hand and lets the other settle at the small of her back, lets it stay there while he makes introductions.

"Thank you so much for having us," Kelly says. "You have a lovely home."

Benson looks at Stabler before she answers, the two of them sharing a private smile.

"Thank you," she says. "With a seventeen year old and a ten year old in the house it usually looks more like a federal disaster area."

"You didn't have to clean up just for us, Captain," Mark says. It's partly a joke and partly a test, and she sees through him at once.

"Please," she says. "Just Olivia here."

"You're a Captain?" Kelly shoots Mark a dark look. He may have forgotten to mention that to her.

"She's gonna outrank me for the rest of our lives," Stabler says easily. His hand is still resting at the small of her back.

"And don't you forget it. Now, who wants a drink?"

They stand around the kitchen with their wine glasses while Stabler and Benson finish cooking. He does as much of the work as she does and Mark is kind of impressed, bc he didn't peg Stabler as a cook, either, but he can tell Kelly's taking notes. The conversation flows pretty easy; Benson is nice and she knows how to talk to people, and she keeps the conversation away from work, keeps Kelly engaged. But it's kinda weird seeing Stabler, who Mark initially thought was a grim son of a bitch, smiling so much at this woman he can't take his eyes off of. They carry the food to the table, settle down to eat, and at the first lull in the conversation he strikes.

"How long you two been together?"

Stabler told him thirty years already, but he wants to hear the story. He figures it's a good one.

They share a look, Stabler and his not-wife. Like they wanna get their stories straight before one of them answers. It's not a question Mark would have thought would require a dress rehearsal.

"Long time," Stabler says softly.

Olivia reaches for him under the table. She's discreet about it, but Mark can tell her hand has just landed on his knee, and it's not going anywhere.

"It's a long story," she says, and then she switches gears. It's a fascinating deflection. "I want to thank you for coming," she tells him then. "I wanted to get to know the man who's gonna be watching his back. But I wanted to wait until I knew he hadn't scared you off."

"He got a history of running off partners?"

She laughs, Stabler doesn't.

"What's the record?" He asks. He wants to know if it's true, if Stabler really doesn't work with anybody for long. There's another long, strangely communicative glance between the pair of them.

"Thirteen years," she says, very softly. Stabler reaches for her hand and kisses the back of it gently.

"Lucky thirteen," he says.

Holy shit, Mark thinks. They were partners. That's the story they don't wanna tell. They were partners for thirteen years, and now they're shacked up. It's kind of impressive.

"Mark says you have six kids," Kelly says then. She doesn't like being left out. "Is it just the two boys at home now?"

Benson's smile is a little forced. Under the table, Stabler covers her hand with his own, there against his knee.

"Yes," she says. Doesn't offer anything else. Like she's waiting for Stabler to decide how much he wants to tell them.

"My first wife-"

"Only wife," Benson says, so quietly Mark almost doesn't hear it. Stabler shoots her a wounded look. Apparently it's a disagreement they've had before.

"My first wife and I had five kids. She uh. She died. A few years ago. The older kids are grown. Maureen and Kathleen have kids of their own now. Dickie's getting married next year, Lizzie's…Lizzie. Eli's a junior this year. Liv adopted Noah when he was a baby."

It's a lot of information to take in all at once. He can tell that Kelly regrets asking. She thought it would be a safe topic of conversation; what mother doesn't want to talk about her children? She hadn't counted on the baggage. But Kelly is Kelly, and she is devoted to her optimism.

"You're like the Brady Bunch," she says.

Benson laughs out loud. Stabler relaxes, infinitesimally.

Mark can see it all in their eyes now, though. How Stabler was married to someone else, had five kids with someone else, while they were working together. How he lost her, how he grieved, how he and Olivia finally got together and made a home out of the wreckage but the memory of his wife lingers, and maybe Olivia isn't ready to assume the title she's always thought belonged to someone else. She'll live with him, fuck him, raise her kid with him - Liv adopted Noah, he said, no mention of his own involvement, like he wasn't involved at all - but she can't bring herself to be his wife. We'll get there, Elliot told him. He wonders if that's true. He feels kinda bad for the guy.

[airi-p4]

Perfect asymmetry: Epilogue

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

It’s finished!!! YAY! Thank you if you read this until the end <3

Read on AO3

_________________________

Chapter 4: epilogue

The day it marked Luka and Marinette's 1 year anniversary arrived. "Time sure flies" Luka commented, and Marinette giggled in agreement while feeding him some raspberry ice-cream with her spoon. She missed his mouth on purpose so she could clean his lips with her tongue and he assured she didn't need any excuse to claim him anytime she wished.

It was at that moment when Luka offered Marinette a little present box. Marinette gasped when she saw its contents.

"I finally got an apartment for myself. I want you to have a key too. You can move in with me or not- but I'll be happy to see you there as much as possible"

"Luka I- Oh my God! Thank you so much! I'm so happy!" She jumped to hug him with moved tears in her eyes. "I didn't know you managed to get the money"

"Thanks to my stupid bandmates. How ironic" he shrugged and she giggled.

"Luka-" she kissed him. "Can I see the apartment now? I would love to see it. And maybe check how comfortable our new bed is…" she suggestively kissed his ear.

"Well. I'm also looking forward to finding out…" he smiled, kissing her neck while she laughed.

"Stop being gross and get a room!" Juleka groaned from afar, approaching hand in hand with Rose.

"What a way to ruin the mood…" Luka groaned, and Juleka smiled triumphant.

"You're here to get ice cream too?" Marinette asked.

"Yes. Sweethearts ice cream" Juleka smiled looking at Rose, who smiled back at her before giving her a quick kiss on her lips.

"Wait- what does this mean? Are you two together now?" Luka asked, and the new couple nodded. "It was about time!"

"That's fantastic! Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!" Marinette jumped to hug her friends.

"It's all thanks to you, Marinette," Rose said.

"Me?"

"You were right that day during our sleepover at the Liberty. I wasn't in love with prince Ali. I can't believe it took me so long to realize how I felt about Juleka… Thank you, Marinette"

"No need to thank me. I'm happy to see you so happy together now"

"So Marinette was your cupid and Juleka was ours, huh?" Luka shrugged.

"How is that?" Rose asked, and Juleka urged Luka to shush, but he ignored his sister's warning.

"Juleka was having a hard time because of her body complex. She was crying over how her breasts were asymmetrical in size and how she would never be a model because of that. And look at her now! She has already made it to magazines and commercials!" He teased. "Anyway- I told her how Marinette's breasts were also slightly different and she cheered up. Then she encouraged us to get together" Luka explained.

"Wait- Is this true? Are my breasts different in size? And you knew all this time? This is so embarrassing!" Marinette panicked.

Luka laughed at her reaction. "You know what? I would say it's a perfect asymmetry: while one breast is more sensitive to touch, the other one seems to prefer kisses. Doesn't it make it perfect?"

"Luka!" Marinette punched him in embarrassment.

"What?" He shrugged. "Look at Rose. She seems thrilled to try it out now. For me, you're perfect as you are, Marinette. I wouldn't change anything about you"

"Luka… I- Me neither" she widely smiled. “I love you”

"I love you, too” he kissed her. “So- let's go see that apartment now?"

"With pleasure!" She winked.

It wasn't in their plans to have Juleka and Rose come along, but what was a little sacrifice when they would soon have the apartment everyday all by themselves?

___________________________________________________

As the years passed everything turned to the right direction for the Couffaines at complete: Juleka was a popular model who encouraged girls to keep healthy body types and to be happy with their bodies, remarking how imperfections are part of beauty too. She and her wife Rose created a foundation to fight against eating disorders and lack of nutrition, Rose directing it and getting financial support from prince Ali to help, too, those who couldn't afford any food at all. They married and lived happily together with their daughter.

Anarka decided to tour around the world with her boat and some friends she used to have a band with before when her children left to live on their own. She wanted to become an authentic pirate, bringing music to every harbor the boat stopped at. She always made sure she was there for important events: her children's weddings, her grandchildren being born and all of their birthdays. Her grandkids loved her.

Luka Couffaine lived the happiest life he could ever dream of. He managed to rent a centric apartment in Paris and invited Marinette to move in with him while she was at University. His band with his stupid members became very popular, internationally known, going on world tours from time to time… never long tours because he couldn't bear it to be apart from his dear girlfriend.

When Marinette finished her university studies, Luka proposed to her. She said yes, of course, but asked him to wait until she had her own brand established before getting married. Luka didn't care much about tags: girlfriend, fiance, wife...- he just wanted her to stay by his side forever, so he didn't mind waiting. But the unplanned arrival of their first son made Marinette's plans turn and rushed their marriage (only because it would have been too much for Marinette's grandfather, Roland, to accept her having children before marriage). He changed his job to music teacher at the University while selling his composed tracks to music and television companies.

From then on, their family grew. They had 4 children in total: 1 boy and 3 girls. Marinette conquered the most prestigious fashion shows in the world, becoming one of the most well-known designers and fashion brands of the century. And the couple's children grew up to like both music and designing, ready to take over their parents name's when they grow up.

FIN

[writingsbychlo]

how fucking funny would a stiles bodyswap fic be?? i just think it would be hilarious, especially if they’re hanging out and the sheriff is the one who accidentally gives it away that stiles is in love with her when he’s talking to her because she’s in stiles’ body.

stiles tells her she has to go downstairs and greet his dad because from work because thats what he always does, and they know they’re going to have to stick together until they figure this out, she she says that they’re going to have a sleepover and ‘study’ and all in stiles’ body and the sheriff is like

“a sleepover, huh? anything I should know about?”

and she’s so confused, because she has no idea what to say so she’s like “uh, no? what do you mean?” and she throws a ‘daddio’ in there to really sell it, and the sheriff kinda narrows his eyes at her before saying ‘son, I don’t want any funny business up there. I don’t know if you confessed to her or not yet, and she’s always welcome to stay over, but just remember, I’m too young for grandkids yet.” and she’s like “... confessed what again?” and the sheriff is like “that you’re in love with her, obviously.”

and she holds onto that information until they get switched back, because she doesn’t want their first kiss and confessions to be while she’s in someone else’s body. the second they work it out, though, literally the first thing she does is kiss him and he’s so confused and stiles (now in his own body) is like “thats the thanks you give me for figuring it out? I should have messed us up with a spell years ago.” but she jus whispers that she loves him too, and then they’re kissing.

except, then there’s a knock at the door, and the sheriff says she specifically said ‘no funny business’, but he looks at her as he says it, and they’re both like 0.0 and then the sheriff invites her for dinner. while they’re eating, he causally goes, “so, was it weird?” and he KNEW THE WHOLE TIME because he knows his son and he figured it out pretty quickly, and they’re shook that he just TOLD her stiles was in love with her and he’s like “someone had to do it.”

also, funny things like her playing lacrosse in stiles’ body and at first him saying “try not to fall, it’s a hard game.” and afterwards he’s like “why did you do that!! now they all think I’m good at lacrosse! you were supposed to play like crap, not an athlete!” and yeah it would just be hilarious.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Little Birdie Drabble #2

Coming out to dad

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 789

Little Birdie Drabble Series Masterlist

Bucky was standing in his home office, one suspender slung over his shoulder, the other undone and hanging from his shirt tail. The door of the office was thrown open in invitation. He wasn't busy by any means, but Wanda was home. She and her dearest friend Natasha were upstairs in her bedroom doing hell only she knew. 

The pair of them had been friends since Wanda started middle school a few years ago. Occasionally, Bucky would allow Natasha over the house for a sleepover- but only if Wanda’s chores were finished in the meantime. 

It was long after he had been finished, Bucky was in his office, going through the monthly bills and assessments. It was tedious work, and oftentimes, she’d be seated across his desk with a calculator in hand, as he threw numbers her way to add or subtract. 

The numbers frustrate him, he knew he’d be cut back with all of his overseas business meetings that went for weeks at a time; time he’d loathed because he couldn’t drag Wanda alongside him.  He hated to be away from her. But she didn’t mind too often, she always had the company of his house maids and butlers to boss around. She wasn’t snooty, but she was damn sure spoiled. 

As she sat on her bed, she strung her hands in distraught, plucking thread out of the pillow in front of her. She’d just finished a long conversation with her friend about coming out to Bucky. But she was terrified at the thought. Negative rants ran through her mind, images of Bucky’s disgust clouded her own judgement. 

“Wanda,” Natasha scooted closer to her, lightly gripping her hand and squeezing gently. “He’s your dad and he loves you more than anything.”

“He wants grandkids,” she frowned. “But, ‘Tasha, how can I give him a grandkid and marry a man when I don’t feel attraction for them?”

She smiled and stood away from the bed before holding a determined hand out to Wanda. “You’re gonna Tell him today and I’ll take you to senior homecoming in four years.”

Scoffing, Wanda rolled her eyes playfully “jerk.”

Natasha scrunched her nose in playful detest before pulling her friend through the hallway and down the stairs before softly knocking on Bucky’s office door, gaining his full attention. 

“I thought you girls were asleep by now,” Bucky smiled at their matching pajama sets. He’d really have to thank his maids for the shopping sprees. 

“Mr. Barnes,” Natasha held her head up high in the air before pushing Wanda’s back towards her father. “Wanda has to tell you something crucial and meaningful.”

“Oh?” Bucky settles the papers down in his desk before leaning against it and crossing his arms. “What would that be?”

“Daddy,” Wanda swallowed her dear and stood ramrod straight. Taking a deep breath in and out, she closed her eyes, “I need to tell you something important and I’m really hoping you’ll forgive me.”

“Is this about the broken vase I found in the pantry this morning, young lady?” He raised a brow, cocking his head to the side. “You know you could have just told me about it, it was cheap anyway. Super glue does wonders to fix cheap items.”

Her eyes flew open. She wasn’t expecting him to find that vase quickly. She’d actually broke it two days ago and had forgotten to toss out the pieces. “Dad, no, this isn’t about the vase, though I apologize for that.”

Creasing his brows at the torment on his daughters face, he relaxed his arms and gripped the desktop. “What happened, Little Birdie?”

She opened and closed her mouth several times until Natasha slipped her fingers between her own and squeezed softly. “I’m in love, dad... with a girl.”

Looking between the pair of friends, he beamed softly. “Come here, Wanda.” He beckoned her with a single curl of his finger and she waltzed over to him. He gently wrapped his arms around her before picking her up off the floor, much to her dismay. “I want you to know that I love you, dearly. Nothing will change that. I support you in everything you chose to do in life.”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Even if that means I become the villain in my life?”

“I could help you with your evil schemes to take over the world,” he chuckled as he rubbed his nose against her own. He put her back down on the carpet before peering at Natasha, a playful smile curling the corner of his mouth. “I guess this saves me the embarrassment of having the sex talk, right?”

“Dad, oh, my god!” She grabbed Natasha’s hand and ran out of the room

[alexiethymia]

post-canon souma x erina headcanons

(because there is absolutely no way they aren’t AT LEAST dating by that point. heck if tsukuda hadn’t said he planned for them to be married, I would’ve thought they had been since I don’t see either of them changing their last names)

POINT

he calls her first out of absolutely anyone he knows when he comes back home and from erina’s dialogue they’ve had this practice for quite a while, literally an ldr right there folks

it seems the usual thing is that erina arrives earlier than him to yukihira and that she waits inside for him so that means she’s the one who usually opens up the diner; that’s right it looks like she’s even been given keys to yukihira’s! if that doesn’t scream domesticity, I don’t know what does

the familiarity between erina and grandfather; the way he calls her erina-chan or how he leaves it to her to tell ‘the boys’ where he’ll be, and just how he speaks to her as if already seeing her as a granddaughter-in-law

that whole reunion! so soft, after both their inner monologues, and just for them alone. the ‘i’m home’ on souma’s part and the ‘welcome home’ on erina’s part and how erina is probably always the first to welcome him home since he calls her first and ‘home’ for them doesn’t just mean ‘japan’ but coming home to ‘yukihira’s’ and even better coming home to ‘her’ waiting at the place he calls home. THE DOMESTICITY I CANNOT. THEY ARE LITERALLY HUSBAND AND WIFE MATERIAL.

THE PARALLELS. erina as saiba and souma as tamako. 

it’s actually souma’s inner monologue that convinces me. what his dad and asahi said has already been on his mind for a while and in this chapter it’s already solidified into an absolute certainty, the ‘forever’ is what clinches it to me. he’s been dedicating his cooking to erina all this time after all. it seemed to me that it’s in this chapter that he came to a resolution that it’s forever, no-takebacks between them. wouldn’t surprise me that when erina finally says ‘delicious’, he’ll just propose there on the spot. headcanon that that’s why he wants there to be a lot of witnesses when he didn’t before because he could propose at any time. wouldn’t even be surprised if after this chapter he really did propose with all their friends surrounding them because of how he ‘swears’ that this’ll finally be the dish to make her say ‘delicious’ (at this point delicious has become code for ‘I do’ between them not kidding)

HEADCANONS (since Tsukuda said the rest was free to our imagination, and anyway he confirmed their romantic feelings towards each other already, so many possibilities and I hope the anime builds on it)

when souma came back from his first tour abroad, they were already about to graduate as third years; it was erina’s teary, frustrated face, as if ready to smack him (and she does) when she sees him again that puts everything into place for him

but he still doesn’t say anything

since he already missed a lot of his requirements and the graduation exam he was granted a special exam by the headmistress herself, beat her in a shokugeki in order to graduate; that high-stakes confrontation was just like them; I think he did eventually beat her in that shokugeki or in a shokugeki because at present it seems their challenges don’t consist of shokugekis but him just feeding her and he did eventually take over yukihira’s, that would have probably been enough to satisfy jouchirou’s condition 

she still doesn’t say it’s delicious. not because she doesn’t want to, but because there seems to be something stopping her. it’s ok, he’ll wait for her to be ready.

so she becomes dean full-time and he becomes owner of yukihira’s but she invites him to teach at tootsuki often; he has this habit of his, pre-asahi, of when he was bugging her to eat his dishes but she’d have her hands full with paperwork so he just feeds her. just like that (you know what I’m talking about that blessed volume 36 inner cover). souma’s just like ‘say ahhh nakiri’ and erina’s just ‘?!?!?!’ but it’s more troublesome fending him off and fighting off her blush so she just. gives in to it. so it wasn’t that uncommon to see the dean being handfed with chopsticks by yukihira-sensei to make sure she eats (so hisako totally approves) while making sure this is finally the day she says ‘delicious’, while she multitasks with paperwork in her office. and that just fuels rumors among the student body and even their friends don’ know what the heck they are?? it’s just their something and they don’t really say anything about it, not like they need words when they have food and that’s enough of a language for them. and erina is still oblivious. 

as repayment for teaching at tootsuki, souma invites erina to help out at yukihira’s and cheekily tells her she has to wear the uniform and that he’s the boss this time around. erina just scoffs. and that’s how souma’s grandfather finds them, cooking together at yukihira’s, and with how souma grows to look more like jouchirou everyday and erina’s short hair, it’s like he’s seeing a young jouichirou and tamako all over again. he’s a bit teary and more than a bit glad to be introduced to erina-chan.

souma was in for a surprise to find out asahi was erina’s older brother, as if the nakiri family couldn’t get weirder enough already. asahi does not give him an easy time AT ALL, always saying he was never going to hand over his precious baby sister to souma. souma just gets hit by dejavu and not a small amount of irritation. shokugeki battles are frequent. (asahi knows they’re inevitable though, his younger sister and ‘younger brother’, he just likes to tease and prolong it); the lines in the nakiri family are pretty clear-cut, anyone apart from asahi and azami (like father and son) wholeheartedly approve of souma for erina (not that either of them know it); mana: what has you so irritated? doesn’t that boy remind you of yourself when you were wooing and already married to me? azami:..................; mana apart from senzaemon is probably souma’s biggest supporter in the nakiri family (even if he probably wouldn’t take the nakiri name) since she witnessed his devotion to erina so early on; azami probably weighs being saiba-senpai’s in-law versus having souma as a son-in-law. it is not an easy decision. 

eventually wanderlust hits again and souma decides to travel to learn more and be a better chef. after all erina still hasn’t said ‘delicious’ 

for erina’s part, she’s sorely tempted to just finally say it, but apart from the fact that she’s nakiri erina, she’s also scared at what comes after, if finally saying ‘delicious’ would end this tenuous something between them. but at the same time, she’s tempted to say it just to get him to stay. but she’d never clip his wings like that especially when he was the one to give her a chance to break free from her birdcage (just as souma doesn’t take her away from what makes her a nakiri and has only ever pushed her upwards even so early on when he made her headmistress in their first year; I STAN A HEALTHY, SUPPORTIVE, AND INDEPENDENT POWER COUPLE OK). and always, always, no matter how far or how long (only a few weeks at most, because souma probably can’t last that long anymore) he always comes back home. to cook for her. to her. just like how saiba-sama always came back to tamako-san no matter where his travels took him and ANWAY WHY WAS SHE COMPARING THEIR SITUATION TO THAT OF HIS PARENTS?? erina is still in denial. 

see, for his part, erina really is the best motivation because he can’t go back to see her without an outstanding dish that will dazzle her and he can’t not go back to her, so he puts his all to creating his recipes, the sooner to see her and make her finally say it’s delicious. it’s the same way erina puts her all to running the academy and make sure it’s not a disappointment to him when he comes back home.

the first time they say goodbye at the airport (because she wouldn’t let him hear the end of it the last time he left with just a note, not without a little hurt), she tries to be stone-faced, after being conspicuously left alone by his family and their friends, and he just says ‘see you nakiri, i’ll miss you’ and goes off without even hearing her reply which is just as well since erina probably couldn’t speak for how red she was. she swears she’ll kill him when he comes back for making her realize, because ah, now erina remembers a girl’s sleepover and love-talk and now she knows.

after numerous goodbyes at airports and ‘i’ll miss you’s and ‘next time for sure’s from souma, the day erina finally stutters back ‘i-i’ll miss you too’ is when souma asks to kiss her on the cheek (anything more would probably make her combust)

erina initiates their first kiss and souma’s like oh so that’s why they call it the ‘god tongue’ 

jouichiro and his grandfather give him a lot of grief about his relationship with erina since ‘could he hurry it up I want erina-chan as my daughter/grandaughter -in-law and grandkids/great-grandkids already!’ and souma’s like ‘she hasn’t said it’s delicious yet pops!’ and jouichirou is just dumbfounded at his kid’s stupidity and his grandfather’s just exasperated ‘what is it with you yukihira men wooing your future wives by stuffing them silly?’ the key to a woman’s heart is through her stomach after all.

after erina finally, FINALLY, says it’s delicious, souma’s too nervous to even celebrate - the ring? the ring?? where did he put it? - erina stops him in his tracks because she says to him with a small smile and a twinkle in her eye - ’hmphh I guess you’re no longer that plebian I first met, so how would you like to be promoted to my precious person? - souma recognizes it, of course he does, and of course she’s beat him again. he can’t help the blush on his face and doesn’t know who laughs louder, his pops or him. 

at the wedding, erina asks him what now since she’s already said his food was delicious. souma’s there grinning manically ‘what are you talking about? you think one measly delicious is enough after how many times you’ve denied me? I swear I’ll make you say delicious a million times - no a hundred million times - for the rest of our lives.’ and erina can’t help but cry and smile and laugh through her tears. he’s always told her she was at her most beautiful laughing. there could have never been more perfect vows for them.

although I don’t think either of them will change their family names as I’d see them always support each other through their endeavors, I headcanon that after so much responsibility at such a young age erina would enjoy retiring at yukihira’s and just savoring her warm family time, something she’d desperately wish for when she was young and now has in abundance. she’d still consult and run restaurants but would probably leave most of the leadership to alice in later years.

souma and erina have a son as cheeky as his father and as brilliant as his mother. they have cooking showdowns with erina as the judge, but unlike tamako, she almost always declares their son the winner; souma: unfair, you only pick him because he’s your son. erina: he’s your son too dear and of course since he has the best of both of us; they also have a younger daughter who’s every much the tsundere erina is and as wild as tamako was (I DEMAND MY TWINTAILS SORINA DAUGHTER THANK YOU VERY MUCH); her brother probably dotes on her and they probably have the same relationship as soe and mana as well as asahi and erina. between the two of them, it’s their daughter that inherits the god tongue but she doesn’t want to be a chef and that’s perfectly ok with the whole family.

And that’s a wrap.  Honestly, that was a better ending than I expected. For me, in terms of satisfying resolutions of shonen ships they rank up there with Ed and Winry, Kaneki and Touka, Medaka and Zenkichi. It’s that softness and the promise of more to come, them knowing and us, the audience knowing their mutual feelings for each other, with the knowledge that they will eventually get married. I have the anime to look forward to at least and seeing all those moments animated.  

[queenmylovely]

Good Company

Summary: Gwilym lee x fem!reader. Your family’s annual ski trip with the Lees is the first time in a while you’re seeing your childhood best friend Gwilym. 

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: cussing, fluff, smut light (18+!! marked with ***)

A/N: This is my entry for @laedymoon​ 1k follower celebration! This is only my second Gwil fic and it was actually really nice to write. I got some definite inspo from @sweet-ladyy​ MOTH ch. 5, this is a bit of a switcheroo on that, but if you know you know ;) Thank you to @coffeewritingwine​ for beta-reading! Any feedback including likes, replies, reblogs and asks are greatly appreciated! Especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

Masterlist

(gif by @mazzelloplots​; ugh he’s so hot) 

🎿🎿🎿

Every March, for so long that it had become tradition, your family and one other would go on a ski trip. This trip started before the two pairs of parents were even married, and continued until now, when their kids were all grown up and had kids of their own.

This year, by some miracle, all kids, spouses, and now grandchildren were able to come. So it was you; your brother, Nick; your sister, Kate, her wife, Jen, their daughter Ella; and your parents Julia and James. On the other side was the Lees: the parents, Tom and Ceinwen; their son Geraint, his wife Mary, kids Siân and Aled; another son Owen; their daughter Rhiannon, her husband Elwyn, their son Tomos; and finally, their third son who was your age and your childhood best friend, Gwilym.

There was no way the 18 of you would fit into one house, so you were divided into two that were next door to each other. The people with small children were in one house (affectionately dubbed the “chaos house” by you) and the rest of you were in the other. The houses were identical, two four-bedroom cabins with just enough room to house you all but not enough so that anyone could avoid each other. It was all by design because good old T, C, and double J wanted to make the most out of having all their kids and grandkids together at once.

Each couple had their own room, the kids were in one, Nick and Owen were sharing one (as they were also best friends), and you and Gwilym were sharing the other.

Which was fine. The two of you had had countless sleepovers since you were little, going all the way through until the summer before university, so you were totally comfortable in each other’s presence.

Now that you were grown up, you were still close. Since you were both living in London, you did try to see each other at least once a month, but it was difficult with how busy Gwilym was with shooting and such. So when the trip came around, and you hadn’t actually seen each other in over three months since the annual Christmas Eve eve party that your parents had, you were super excited for a week with him and both families.

_____

Your flight had been delayed so you knew you were the last one arriving. The cabins you had rented were at the ski resort, and you took the ski shuttle to them, your luggage in tow. Luckily, you would be renting the actual skis. Getting off at the main building you had a bit of a trek to the cabins. By the time you reached them, you were out of breath, your hat was about to fall off your head, and you were sure that sweat had plastered your fly-aways to your forehead, but you were too excited to see everyone to care.

Knocking three times, you only had to wait a second before the door was flying open. Owen was standing there, beaming at you, and although he had seen you only two weeks before at Nick’s birthday drinks, he pulled you into a big hug and squeezed you too hard with a laugh. You got much gentler hugs from the others, except Nick who just pulled your hat down over your eyes before giving you a quick side hug. Then the kids seemed to realize you were there and a ten and eight year old, Siân and Ella, respectively, came running over, yelling your name. You hugged them both and kissed the tops of their heads.

Then the two two-year-olds, Tomos and Aled, toddled over, curious as to what was causing the commotion. When they recognized you (both were very smart two-year-olds), they garbled out your name. With a grunt, you managed to pick both of them up at the same time, giving them big kisses on the cheek that they laughed at and then returned, no doubt getting whatever they had last been eating on your face.

The only person who hadn’t greeted you yet was Gwilym. Your mom saw you looking around for him and said, “Gwilym’s just down the hall in your room getting the bed ready.”

“Okay. Better go say hi and put this in there,” you replied, grabbing the handle of your suitcase.

The two of you were in the only downstairs bedroom, so you walked down the hallway past the kitchen and a bathroom, finding the door slightly ajar all the way at the end.

You knocked lightly before pushing it all the way open, “Knock-knock, is the movie-star decent?”

Gwilym was just finishing making the bed, placing the little throw pillows perfectly when he looked up and saw you. He grinned and walked around the side of the bed, rolling his eyes before pulling you into a tight hug.

“Sorry, no movie stars here, love. Just me, hope that’ll do,” he said into your hair and you let out a little contented sigh. No one gave hugs quite like Gwil.

“As if,” you said, pushing on his upper arms to look at him. Your hands stayed there and his stayed on your waist. “You cannot play a member of Queen in a big Hollywood movie and then refuse to be called a moviestar. We’ve been over this.”

“We’ve also been over that I’m the same exact person I’ve always been,” Gwil said, a little sternly.

“Well I know that,” you said, hitting his arm lightly and then letting go. He did the same. “No amount of fame could knock the dork out of you. Or let me forget what a nerdy little kid you were and still are.”

Gwil laughed at that, relieved that you still saw him the same. In the year and a couple months since Bohemian Rhapsody had come out, you had only seen each other a handful of times, and for no longer than three hours. He had been a bit worried that you could have come to think of him differently and just hid it well around others. But your teasing definitely assuaged that worry.

“So I made up the bed for us. There’s an electric blanket under the comforter so we don’t get cold. I don’t think this cabin has the greatest insulation,” he pointed out, looking at the walls distrustingly.

“Thank you for that, you know how much I hate making beds,” you told him and he smiled. “Another thing I would appreciate is if you let me sleep on that side of the bed.”

You pointed to the one furthest from you, and Gwil looked at it then you.

“Is this your thing about not sleeping the closest to the door?” he asked, squinting at you.

“I know, it’s irrational or whatever, but I’d just feel safer if I didn’t sleep closest to it,” you replied. You had just a bit of a fear that murderers or something would break in and attack everyone during the night.

“I guess I can. But I don’t know how good of protection I’d be. I’m no self-defense expert,” Gwil admitted, smiling.

“Even if you aren’t they’d kill you before me, so maybe I’d be able to run away,” you said matter-of-factly.

Gwil’s face turned into one of shock and he exclaimed, “So I’m just a killing buffer to you? You’d run away while I was being brutally murdered? Good to know I’m disposable.”

He crossed his arms and frowned harshly, but you knew he was just pretending to try to make you feel guilty. Nevertheless, you hugged him around his crossed arms, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him.

“Aw, Gwilly, you know that’s not true. You’re much more than that. You’re my smart, handsome, funny, dorky, best, best friend in the whole wide world,” you laid it on thick, trying to flatter him into not being “upset,” though nothing you said was a lie. When he didn’t budge, you started tickling his sides until he broke and started laughing, uncrossing his arms and grabbing yours to stop you.

He wrapped his arms around you again, resting his chin on your head that you had turned to the side and laid against his chest. “Okay, I’ll sleep closest to the door. You’ll be safe. As long as the murderers don’t come in through the window.”

Eyes widening, you looked straight at the big window that was next to your side of the bed. Your arms tightened around Gwil, genuine fear creeping into your voice, “Don’t even joke about that.”

_____

Since it was mid-afternoon when you got there, there was to be no skiing that day. Instead, the whole group made dinner together (well, really it was the grandparents with a little help from the other parents peeling vegetables and setting the tables). You and Gwilym were in charge of the kids while Owen and Nick were sent to buy wine, beer, and juice boxes. Siân and Ella were doing their own thing, playing some kind of spy game that had them giggling and using a pair of walkie-talkies.

Aled and Tomos were content to sit on your laps. You and Aled were playing patty cake while Tomos was playing with Gwil’s short beard. Tomos was having a good time, but every so often, he pulled a little hard and Gwil winced in pain, reminding him to “be gentle.”

Once dinner was ready, you picked up your respective kid and called to Ella and Siân. They dutifully followed you to the tables, and you plopped the toddlers into their high chairs next to where their parents would sit.

Dinner was good, a chicken alfredo with homemade sauce that was sure to please everyone, including the picky eaters. There were also roasted carrots that even Ella, who hated vegetables, could stomach.

That was followed by a movie, but everyone talked over it.

“Has Aled bitten anyone? Tomos has done it like once, but I’m hoping he doesn’t enter a phase.”

“The target is in place, get ready for attack, over.”

“Aaah! Stop hitting me! Why are those pillows so hard?”

“I see the girls are enjoying their walkie-talkies, you’re welcome, by the way.”

“Do you have any podcast recommendations that aren’t true crime? I just worry about Siân hearing since she would actually understand what they’re saying.”

“Y/N, Michael’s the cousin that lives in California, right?”

“No, that’s Mark,” you half-yelled back to Nick, who was talking to Owen and Tom. Then you turned back to Gwil, “Wait, you already wrapped? I thought you were shooting until May.”

“No, that’s when it comes out,” he corrected you.

“Oh… Does that mean you’ve been in London for weeks and you haven’t tried to make plans with me? Where were you for Nick’s birthday?” you asked, in a teasing tone but you were also a little bit mad.

“I’ve been travelling some. But I was at a Fashion Week thing,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Whatever, moviestar,” you said with a huff. Then you adjusted how you were sitting so you were against the back of the couch instead of facing Gwilym.

“Y/N…” Gwilym started, but trailed off because he knew you would probably interrupt him.

“Nope, don’t talk to me right now. I want to be able to sleep in the same bed as you without strangling your pretentious ass. Just let me cool off,” you told him. You were being a little over-dramatic, but you knew that in ten minutes you’d be done being annoyed. Both of you knew you weren’t really all that angry because you were still sitting with your thigh and arm pressed to his. When you were really mad, you didn’t even want to be in the same room as him.

_____

Once everyone was making their way to bed, you and Gwil took turns in the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“You’d better go first, I have my whole skincare routine,” you let him know, slight anger long having faded away.

“How do you know I don’t have one?” he shot back and you just rolled your eyes to his laughter.

As he was brushing his teeth, you changed into your pajamas. Just an old uni shirt that was too ratty to wear outside of the house anymore and a pair of cotton running shorts. But it was soft, oversized, and very comfy, so it was perfect for sleep.

“All yours,” he told you, walking into the room just as you pulled your shirt over your head. You were facing away from him, so at most he had seen your back, but you didn’t really think about it, grabbing your stuff, giving him a quick smile, and heading into the bathroom.

As you walked away, Gwil took in a big breath. After not seeing you very much over the past year and a half, Gwil was feeling different seeing you now. You had always been beautiful, but Gwil could’ve sworn your beauty had increased tenfold over that time. That, or he had just been taking it for granted since he used to see you constantly. Whatever it was, everytime you guys hugged, or when you sat close to him on the couch, or just now when he had gotten a glimpse of your lower back as you dressed, Gwil’s cheeks heated up uncontrollably and he had to fight to act normal.

Since the two of you were so comfortable physically around each other, he couldn’t pull away because then you would know something was up and ask him about it. He had no idea how you would react and he didn’t want to risk the years of your friendship and the bond between your families over a crush.

You walked into the room with a fresh face and moisturizer, ready for bed. Gwil was sitting on the bed, looking deep in thought.

“Can I turn off the big light?” you asked, hand over the switch.

“What? Oh yeah, let me just get the lamp,” he told you, getting up and turning on the lamp.

As you switched off the light and then walked to your side of the bed, you took another look at his pensive face, “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Gwil looked at you, pausing for a moment before answering, “Just thinking about which side of the mountain I should go on first. I don’t know if I’m too rusty to hit the backside right away.”

“Oh, you should definitely do the frontside the first day so we can ski together. Otherwise, I’ll be left alone with the kids on the bunny hill. I need your guidance,” you said with a goofy smile, climbing under the covers.

Guidance, Gwil thought for just a moment before recovering and getting under the covers himself, “Okay, sounds good, I’ll join you on the front side.”

“Thank you!” you said, beaming at him. Then you leaned over and pecked his cheek, “We’d better get to sleep. Early morning and all.”

“You’re right,” he said, turning off the lamp, glad that the darkness would hide his red cheeks at your kiss. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Sweet dreams, Gwil.”

_____

The next morning, the musical sound from your alarm woke you up. You groaned, opening your eyes slowly and lifting an arm to turn it off. Except the arm wouldn’t lift. Looking down, you realized you were tangled up with Gwil.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment for a second, but then you thought again and realized it was Gwil and he would not care at all that the two of you had ended up cuddling. The two of you tended to cuddle whenever you got tipsy anyway.  

So you slipped your arm from underneath Gwil’s and were able to turn just enough to reach your phone and turn the alarm off. Your movement made Gwil stir and he blinked his eyes heavily. Then they opened wide when he realized how you were situated.

You giggled at his look and said, “Morning, Gwil.”

Relaxed by your laughter, he let out a chuckle too, “Morning, love.”

Neither of you moved from each other’s grasp, happy to be lazy and warm in each other’s arms for the moment.

“I feel like I just got the best sleep I have for months,” you told him, playing with the collar of the shirt he was wearing.

“Mm, me too,” Gwil agreed, squeezing you in his arms a bit.

“Maybe we should always sleep in the same bed,” you joked.

“Haha, yeah,” Gwil replied kind of awkwardly, but when your phone went off again, you were distracted.

“That’s my ‘you better be awake by now’ alarm, so we better get up,” you said, patting his chest before disentangling yourself from him.

Gwil let you go and got up himself. Realizing the family was going to head to the mountain in less than an hour, the two of you rushed to get ready and eat breakfast, not having time to chat very much.

_____

“I am in dire need of hot chocolate. I’m sooo cold,” you announced, your teeth chattering as you removed your snow-soaked jacket and hat.

“Same, I’ll go put the order in,” Gwil said, having removed his wet clothes faster than you.

“And some fries,” you called after him and he waved over his shoulder in acknowledgement. “And chicken strips!”

Gwil just shook his head, but you knew he would get you them anyway. He was always so good to you. Sometimes it made you wonder whether there was anything between you, but neither of you ever made a move, and it never seemed like the time to talk about it. You loved Gwil, sure, but loving him as your best friend and being in love with him were two different things. Sometimes that line became a bit blurred, especially when you noticed how good he looked on this trip, his hair and beard having grown out. But these feelings had popped up before, and had gone away in a couple weeks, so who’s to say that this time would be any different?

“Alright, here we go, you mooch,” Gwil said, somehow managing to balance two cups of steaming hot chocolate, and a giant basket of chicken strips and fries.

“Let me take this,” you said, grabbing the basket from him so he wouldn’t accidentally spill. You grabbed a couple fries and shoved them in your mouth. “Thank you!”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to talk with your mouth full?” Gwil asked sarcastically, as the two of you sat down.

“Actually, you’re the first,” you replied in an equally sarcastic fashion.

“Whatever, give me some of those fries.”

The two of you ate, mostly silent because you were very hungry. The ski lodge’s stereo system was playing the radio at a medium volume, so you were content listening to that. Then “Bohemian Rhapsody” came on and you looked at Gwil with wide eyes.

“It’s your song!” you said excitedly, immediately swaying to the music.

Gwil threw his head back in slight exasperation but laughed all the same, humming the rhythm of the guitar and doing some light air guitar that made you break out in laughter.

The whole situation brought him back to a time probably two years ago when he had finally been able to tell you about the project that was Bohemian Rhapsody.

_

“You what?!” you exclaimed. “You’re playing Brian fucking May?! What the actual fuck, that’s so exciting!!”

Then you tackled him in a hug that actually knocked the wind out of him.

He coughed and then replied with a grin, “Yeah, it really, really is.”

You pulled back at him and smiled, “Okay, tell me everything. Even the stuff you’re not supposed to.”

Gwil chuckled and smiled back, “There’s not a ton to tell. Serious. But I can show you a mockup they did of the Greatest Hits album.”

He pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of the four actors’ faces superimposed onto the album cover next to the original. It took you a second to tell them apart. Multiple seconds in fact. What gave it away was the actors that were playing Roger Taylor and Freddie Mercury. Then you looked back and forth between Brian May and Gwil’s version.

“You literally look like a carbon copy of him, what the hell? Oh my gosh, I cannot wait to see you in a wig,” you gushed, laughing as you continued to stare at the two pictures.

Gwil looked at you, smiling and you caught his eye when you looked up, rushing forward to hug him again.

“I’m so proud.”

Over the course of filming, he had you on set a couple of times, and you had met the rest of the cast. They were a great bunch and you loved how happy Gwil was around them. Part of you was a little jealous that they got to see so much of him, but it was his career, and overall you always stayed supportive.

He had invited you to the premiere too, but you had sat with his family to watch it, as he sat with the rest of the cast. The popularity of the movie meant he had been busier and busier, and it was hard to see him consistently. That’s why you were so happy for this week’s vacation; a chance to reconnect.

_____

Ever since the movie had been announced, everyone from both families had taken to listening to Queen much more than they had previously, both to be supportive, but also because it just reminded them how good their music was.

So, that night when you were hanging out with Rhiannon, Kate, and Jen in the kitchen of the chaos house making cookies while everyone else was making dinner, you were playing Queen in the background. Soon, the conversation turned from family gossip to a debate about the members while looking at pictures of them as the cookies baked.

“Listen, I will concede that Roger does have a certain appeal as a blonde, but Deaky just has something else,” Rhiannon stated.

“Hmmm, I can’t really relate about his looks, but I definitely think Deaky wrote some of their best songs,” Kate pointed out.

“I gotta say that there’s something about Brian’s voice, though, that makes me feel something, like, in the depths of my soul. His voice is just so melancholy and soft,” Jen said dreamily as she pointed at him in a picture. All three of you turned to look at her, pulling faces and then everyone cracked up.

Gwil walked into the house, looking for the four of you to tell you that dinner was ready when he heard loud laughter coming from the kitchen. He smiled to himself, wondering what you were laughing about and then he overheard you talking.

“Don’t get me started on Brian. He looks…” Gwil was sure that you were about to say “Just like Gwil” but instead you finished “So hot in this picture.”

Gwil’s eyes widened at the implication as he connected the dots; if you thought he looked exactly like Brian and Brian was hot, did that mean that you thought he was hot? Gwil didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he didn’t know how else to interpret what you said. Maybe there was something there. Maybe his crush wasn’t one-sided. Maybe he should talk to you about it? Maybe.

For now, he just walked up to the swinging kitchen door, knocking lightly before he walked in.

“Dinner’s ready. You all better get over there before it gets cold,” he warned with a smile, ignoring the way you rushed to take your phone off the counter and that you hardly looked at him.

Kate, Jen, and Rhiannon looked at each other quickly; they had seen the looks both of you gave each other when you thought no one was looking and had actually talked to each other about it when they were on the ski lift. Gwil was easy to read and they were certain that he was practically in love with you, but you had been a little harder to understand. But then you went and said what you thought of Brian and that was the final nail in the coffin.

“Yeah, we’d better get over there so the guys don’t take all the food,” Kate said with a smile.

“Oh, but the cookies aren’t done,” you pointed out.

“You’re right. Gwil, why don’t you stay with Y/N and help her out and we’ll save you guys some food?” Jen asked, though it seemed more like a direction than a suggestion.

“Yeah, you don’t mind,” Rhiannon said, looking at you and then Gwil pointedly.

“Uh, okay sure,” you said, a little confused as to why they were acting strange.

“That’s fine,” Gwil answered at the same time, making eye contact with his sister and nodding ever so slightly, but you missed it.

The three of them walked out of the room and then out of the house to the other one, whispering and giggling all the way.

You shot Gwil a confused look but he just shrugged.

“So what type of cookies are they? They smell good,” he asked pleasantly, walking to stand next to you.

“Oatmeal chocolate chip. Mom’s specialty, although now she’s passed that off on me and Kate,” you responded with a closed-lip smile.

He groaned appreciatively, “Those are my favorite.”

“I know,” you said, smile growing, “That’s why I suggested them.”

“You’re literally the best,” he said, pulling you into a hug that you accepted happily.

“I know,” you said, resting your cheek against his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. His rested over your shoulders and he chuckled in response.

You were tired from the day of skiing, and it felt nice to be in Gwil’s arms, so you relaxed there, closing your eyes. After a minute, Gwil decided he did want to talk to you and pulled away slightly. Looking up at him, you waited for him to speak, but he just stared at you for a moment. You found yourself unable to look away from his intense eyes, and they were getting closer and closer, though who was moving you didn’t know. You got so close you could see little flecks of green and hazel in his blue eyes and feel his gentle breath on your face.

The air felt charged with possibility, and you were just about convinced to lean up the two inches more and connect your lips. You were two more seconds away from closing that gap, now needing to know what kissing Gwil would be like. You were sure that once you started you wouldn’t be able to stop.

Then the timer on the oven went off and both of your heads whipped to the side to see where the noise was coming from. You broke away from Gwil to turn off the timer and then opened the oven door and took out the cookie trays with oven mitts. As you were placing the trays on the heat proof pads on the counter, Gwil turned off the oven.

“They can just cool here until everyone’s done with dinner,” you said too quickly, and Gwil nodded.

Then the two of you took off for the other house, Gwil about five steps behind you. It wasn’t until you were in the other house and surrounded by a bunch of loud family members that you felt you could breathe normally.

_____

That night, after getting ready for bed, turning off the lights, and climbing under the covers, you patted the part of the bed next to you and reached your arms out to Gwil.

He paused for a second so you said, “Come on, if we’re just going to wake up like this anyway, we might as well save sleeping us the trouble.”

“You make a good point,” Gwil conceded, scooting closer to you, again grateful the lights were off. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you cuddled into his side, bringing one of your legs over his closest one.

Once both of you were settled, you patted his chest and wished him a good night, him doing the same with a squeeze of your hip.

As you were dozing off, Gwil thought that at least the almost kiss or whatever it was hadn’t made things so uncomfortable that you couldn’t sleep next to each other. That was a good sign.

_____

***

Once again in the kitchen, you found yourself in his arms. But this time, instead of anything interrupting you, your lips crashed together. The kiss was hot and intense, and before you knew it, you were seated on the counter with Gwil standing between your legs.

Hands were everywhere; yours were running through his hair and tugging on it as his roamed across your breasts, hips and ass. Then you were unbuttoning his pants and he was pushing them down along with his boxers revealing his hard cock. You hopped off the counter, turning around and laying over top of it, and Gwil pulled your panties off, throwing them to the side. With a few swipes through your wet folds, Gwil pushed into you, a gasp of pleasure escaping you as he did.

***

_

Gwil opened his eyes blearily, having been woken up by you moving and then your loud gasp.

“Y/N?” Gwil asked softly, but when you didn’t answer, he looked at your face and saw your eyes were still closed. The two of you were now in a more typical spooning position, having migrated to it throughout the night. By the low amount of light that was in the room, Gwil assumed it must be early morning.

Then you squirmed again, this time practically grinding into his cock, and Gwil froze in shock. You let out the most wanton moan Gwil had ever heard in real life and he had to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from gasping himself.

Just when Gwil thought he couldn’t have been more surprised, you said, “Yes, Gwil, right there,” and Gwil almost moaned. His cock was definitely getting hard, and he didn’t know what to do so he moved his hips back away from yours so you wouldn’t be able to feel it.

He tried to remove his arm from around your waist, but you were holding it to you even in your sleep, and he feared that if he moved you too much you would wake up and know that he heard you. And see his hard-on.

Then you squeezed his hand and whined, “Fuck me harder, please Gwil,” and he didn’t have the choice but to wrench his hand away from you. Getting out of bed and out of the room as quickly as possible, he headed to the bathroom to take a cold shower. As hot as it was that you were having a sex dream about him, he felt it would be wrong to bear witness to it and give himself any pleasure because of it. It did further confirm the idea that you had feelings, or at least a subconscious attraction, to him though, so that was a plus.

Gwil’s sudden movements had pulled you from your dream, and as your body slumped in the bed you only just saw him before he left the room. But you saw his boner and your eyes widened as you remembered your dream. There’s no way he could have known what you were dreaming about, right? The boner was just morning wood, right? Then you shifted so you were sitting up and felt that your underwear were a mess. Maybe it had been kinda obvious. Fuck.

You got ready before Gwil was done with his shower, going to the kitchen to help with breakfast. When he came down the hallway and the two of you made awkward eye contact, you felt your cheeks heat up to a dangerous degree and ran into your mom who was carrying a stack of pancakes.

At breakfast you and Gwil sat next to each other like usual and when his leg brushed against yours you knocked over your glass of water. As the two of you were wiping up that mess, you kept bumping into each other and your hands kept touching and your breath caught every time. By the time breakfast was done you were dizzy with all of the blood that was rushing to your cheeks and lower stomach as each brush and accidental touch reminded you of your dream.

“You know, I didn’t get very good sleep last night and I’m feeling kind of off. I’m gonna stay here and take a nap, maybe join in the afternoon,” you told those around you.

“Gwil’s not kicking you in his sleep is he? He used to do that to me all the time when we were kids,” Geraint said with a laugh.

You laughed lightly in response, “No, nothing like that. Just a restless night. Have fun you guys.”

Then you went to your room and laid down on the made bed, staring at the ceiling as you waited for everyone to leave. When you heard the door close and no more footsteps followed, you walked into the living room and flopped on the couch.

“Can we talk?”

You just about jumped out of your skin and looked around, realizing you hadn’t noticed that Gwil was sitting in the armchair across from the couch. You sat up and hid your face in your hands and heard Gwil walk over and sit by you.

Then you looked up at him painfully, “Can we actually just never ever talk about it?”

Gwil got worried; he had wanted to talk to you about your feelings for each other, but he didn’t know what to do if you were just going to shut him down.

“Why?” was all he could think to say, trying to get some explanation.

“Because it’s so embarrassing,” you replied, looking away from him.

Gwil got a bit peeved that you would say that and scoffed, “Embarrassing?”

Now you were confused. He should understand why you were embarrassed. Then it dawned on you that you might be talking about two different things. “Wait, what did you want to talk about?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” he said with a huff. Then he took in a deep breath, “What I wanted to talk to you about is that I have feelings for you. I wasn’t sure to trust them at first because we’re so close and I worried about transference or whatever, but it’s not that, it’s you.”

You felt the embarrassment completely drain from your body, replaced with happiness at his words. Although you were a little surprised, you were more than relieved that he felt the same as you. Smiling, you took Gwil’s hand in yours and told him, “Me too. It’s you, my feelings are all for you.”

Returning your smile, and with nothing to stop him or interrupt him this time, he leaned in and kissed you. It was much slower and more delicate than the one in your dream, but it was also infinitely better with the real Gwil.

Moving your free hand to cup his cheek, you deepened the kiss softly, teasing your tongue along his lower lip. He opened his mouth, moving his tongue with yours. Even though it was gentle, it was a deep kiss and still took your breath away.

You pulled away after a minute and breathed, “Wow.”

Gwil smiled, pressing his forehead to yours and repeated, “Wow.”

Then your lips connected again and Gwil’s hands moved one to your hair and one to your back, keeping you close to him. You couldn’t believe in how long you had known each other you had never done this. It was quite possibly the best feeling in the world, Gwil’s lips pressed to yours, the drag of his tongue, his strong hands on you, and you didn’t want to stop. That is, until Gwil pulled away. You followed his lips and he gave you a quick peck but pulled the rest of the way away after.

You looked at him, waiting for him to talk so he said a little awkwardly, “So what are we?”

Nervous laughter from you followed his question and you gave him a look.

“Well, I just think it would be good to answer that before anything else happens,” he defended.

“No, you’re right, you’re right, I was just surprised. Normally I have this conversation after something else happens,” you joked and then took a deep breath. “I, for one, want it all. I want to date you, to be your girlfriend, to kiss you, everything else. I want everything with you.”

Gwil breathed out a sigh of relief, “I want everything with you too.”

“Good,” you smiled, leaning back in for a kiss. Gwil indulged you for a few seconds but pulled away again.

You frowned and pouted, “What now? Haven’t we talked about everything?”

“Well, there was one more thing. As your boyfriend now,” he said with a cheeky smile, “I’d like to know about the dream you had this morning. A dream, it seemed, that was about me.”

You facepalmed and felt your cheeks get warm again, “This is exactly what I didn’t want to talk about, it’s so embarrassing.”

“Well I was thinking that as your boyfriend I could maybe try to help you recreate it,” he said with a wink and you felt heat pool in your lower stomach.

“Okay,” you said breathlessly. Then you thought for a second, “But probably not in the kitchen.”

“It was in the kitchen?” Gwil asked, surprised and you nodded sheepishly. “No, maybe not in there. I do know of a nice big bed that we could use though.”

You smiled in excitement, standing up and pulling Gwil with you, saying flirtily, “Show me this bed.”

“As you wish,” Gwil said, grabbing your waist and picking you up. You squealed but wrapped your legs around his waist as his arms supported your thighs. Then he carried you down the hallway, your mixed laughter bouncing off the walls as you exchanged messy kisses on the way.

🎿🎿🎿

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[giyuu-no-tsuma]

Heeeeeey, since you are manga caught up and you have read the ending, how about, Sumihiko and co time-travel to the Taisho era and meet their ancestors?? How interesting would that be, and Touko would recognize they all existed! (Also Kanata x Touko is cute, screw the sick minded people saying it's incest)

Ahhhh, what a awesome and interesting ask! Well, I don’t really argue with close-minded people about something, so if they still want to be stubborn and still want to think it’s incest, best thing is to leave them be, because we know it’s not incest and Gotouge already explained it, their fault they’re stubborn not anyone else’s. 

Anyways to the ask! Without an illustration since there aren’t GIF’s or pictures:

PS: Time-travel doesn’t seem realistic to me, so excuse me if I took it into my comfort zone, I had a better idea for it!

Sumihiko and his brother were having a sleepover over the Agatsuma’s, Kanata mostly by Touko’s side, holding her hand and both smiling to one another. Sumihiko and Yoshiteru talking about anything really.

Their conversation went on, until Sumihiko brought up the story of their ancestors and how they fought with the demons and the Demon King.

Touko listened to their conversation and rolled her eyes, stating that it was just fiction, that their great-grandpa was just someone with big imagination. Upong which Yoshiteru argued her statement, earning a harsh pull on the ear.

“What if they actually existed and fought against them? Can you prove it’s fiction?”

At Sumihiko’s answer, Touko had much hesitation, she herself didn’t have any proof to her statement. So she just said she didn’t.

“What if we time-travel?”

*Of course Yoshiteru was greeted by his oldest sister’s scolding and ear pulling.

“You dummy! Time-travel doesn’t even exist! Why is it that you’re like this always! Was great-grandpa Zenitsu like this?!”

“Of course time-travel is impossible... But if they existed, then surely some memory or something may be there.” Kanata tried to reason and calm Touko down, so she could stop pulling on poor Yoshiteru’s ear, which was pretty swollen and red.

Touko stopped doing what she’s doing, smiling and giving the reason to Kanata. That boy surely made her relax a little.

“Well, great-grandpa Tanjirou fought with this katana right?” It was when Sumihiko pulled out the katana they kept as memory.

Kanata wasn’t that happy his younger brother took the memorial katana without asking.

“Sumihiko, you shouldn’t have taken it. It’s a memorial.”

“I know, I know, but I’m curious about great-grandpa and his adventures with the demon slaying job! How he and great-great-great Aunt Nezuko had it. We know the story of our three-times great uncles and aunt dying and our three-times great aunt turned into a demon, how they went throught it, so many things I want to know!”

Sumihiko’s enthusiasm was evident, and it all started to get Touko more interested in the topic. Well if they really did existed, then maybe there is something somewhere to know about them.

The four talked about the topic until pretty late, and called it a night, everyone sleeping in futons in the living room. Soon, they all started to dream. It was a shared dream. In the dream, Sumihiko woke by started, he was in a different house, didn’t seem to be Touko and Yoshiteru’s. It all looked pretty ancient, like the Taisho era.

“Eh? Where are we?” The boy looked around, and felt pretty out of place and worked out, he noticed his brother was sleeping next to him and shook him lightly. “Kanata, Kanata! Nii-san wake! We’re not in home!”

Kanata groaned and slowly opened his eyes. “Sumihiko? What are you saying-” He was quick to sit up, his brother was right, that wasn’t  home. He quickly turned to Touko sleeping by his other side and shook her. “Touko? Touko-chan, wake up, something’s up.

Touko was quick to be up and smacked her brother awake. “Wake you you dummy!”

Yoshiteru yelped and scrambled to his feet. “Wha, nani nani?!”

“We’re not home, where is here?!” Touko was becoming pretty agitated, when Kanata held her hand and she calmed almost immediately.

“Don’t worry Touko-chan, if you’re here with me, then nothing can happen to you.” He reassured her softly.

It was night in that strange place. Soon they heard some voices, turning looking in awe.

“Tanjirou! Where are we going?!” A blond with the same appearance as Yoshiteru but save from the blond to orange hair.

Then the called boy stood there, it was Tanjirou, Kanata and Sumihiko’s great-grandfather, very alike with Sumihiko, save from the earrings and the scar.

“Great-grandpa Zenitsu...” Touko whispered

“And great-grandpa Tanjirou...” Sumihiko echoed.

“It was real after all...” Touko was no convinced and Yoshiteru took advantage of it.

“I was right all this time, not Nee-san?”

“Urusai, baka!” Touko kicked him in the side, she had such a temper, once again she found herself being held by the hand by Kanata and she calmed.

“I wonder why my sister is such a hooligan...” Yoshiteru grumbled, but then quickly shut up at the glare said sister shot him.

Soon it came the time where Nezuko pulled out of the box and stood next to her brother. Many similarities with Touko. The other girl at seeing her three times-great aunt, she got a real shock, she was demon. All the stories told by their other family members were right and the diary her great-grandpa wrote also was right, she could tell that this was a time where they still were not close to defeat the threat that was Muzan.

“Woah, that kid Giichi’s ancestor” Sumihiko commented, meaning Giyuu who was with the trio, same hair but longer, same deep blue eyes and face shape. Giichi was an elementary kid he often ran into when he was in a hurry to his school, he was watching the ancestor of that kid.

Suddenly Yoshiteru had parted from the group and it was only by Touko who freaked out.

“Ah, where did that idiot go?! Yoshiteru!!” She barked, searching around, they were in an unknown territory but that kid really had to disappear just like that?

Kanata put an arm around her. “Don’t worry Tou-chan, we’ll find him, that’s for sure,” Though he really was in the same with his girlfriend of wanting to smack that kid good.

Yoshiteru had adventured himself a little in the dense forest, wanting to see a demon or see if one would come. He was curious. And his urges to do so came when out of nowhere one jumped at him. The boy screeched. “GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

“Oh no that idiot got into trouble!” Touko ran where she heard her brother’s scream, going along with Kanata and Sumihiko. When they got there, they froze seeing it was a demon.

Soon a voice was heard. “Water Breathing, Second Form: Water Wheel!”

The demon’s head was sliced off, and Yoshiteru turned to look at his savior, Tanjirou stood there, going over to see if the boy was okay.

“Are you okay?”

“Yoshiteru!!” Touko ran over and immediately smached her brother upside the head. “Baka! Only you would think on getting lost and into trouble in unknown territory, you idiot!” She smacked him again, having half the mind to just smack his tush for that, but restrained herself.

“I-I’m sorry Onee-san...I was scared!” he immediately started screeching with tears, but this time his sister sighed and hugged him. She turned to look at Tanjirou... her three-times-great uncle...

Tanjirou blinked. “H-hey, you kid... you look like Zenitsu..” He stared at Yoshiteru then to Touko. “You like Nezuko...” And then was Kanata. “And you like Kanao....” what got him into a freeze was Sumihiko who looked like him, saved from the earrings and the scar.

“Tanjirou, what’s wrong?” Giyuu soon joined and so did Zenitsu and Inosuke.

The four kids from many, many, many years later where stared at like they were aliens.

“G-great-grandpa...” Sumihiko started.

“Great-grandpa?” Tanjirou blinked, was this some sort of dream? Was he asleep and dreaming that he had a great-grandson? Where were his kids and grandkids then? If this kid was his great-grand son? He didn’t understand.

After a big explanation, Tanjirou understood, in the future he was to marry Kanao, have kids and grandkids, these two Sumihiko and Kanata were his last generations, therefore in the time where these kids were from, he and the others were likely dead.

“This is unbelievable but, here you are.” 

“You were awesome, great-grandpa, really awesome!” Sumihiko exclaimed happily. “You fought with everything and the others too. I’m glad I was able to meet you, something that I thought impossible.”

Soon, back to the current time, the four were starting to wake.

“Uh what?” Sumihiko looked around, they were back at the Agatsuma’s home, so all that was just a dream?

Kanata rubbed his eyes and looked around, unsure of what just happened a while back.

Touko yawned and blinked. “A dream?”

Yoshiteru was simply sleeping soundly still.

“That dream felt very real.” Kanata commented. “So it might’ve been a clue to the mystery of our ancestors.

“Still awesome we got to talk to them even if a dream, that’s checked outta the bucket list!” Sumihiko chirped.

Touko smiled. “Great-grandpa Zenitsu, simply like Yoshiteru, a cowardly yet heroic and strong man. Not that Yoshiteru is that, but our great-grandpa was.”

“Now we now they existed, the heroes.”

From now on the ancestors were remembered as existent and so the demons, even honored. The dream was actually a real thing.

[miidnightglosss]

Boston Tea Party - Part 1 (Grell Sutcliffe - Chapter 1)

There's a tradition in Boston, Massachusetts, one where every student at the end of their eighth-grade year of school throws their papers and textbooks into a bonfire and parties the night away before their souls are ultimately crushed before going through the trials of high school life. Those who still have their souls, at least.

Grell Sutcliff, 14, had decided to follow this tradition surrounded by a number of her best friends. Her bright red hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She pulled down her black tank top ever so slightly and adjusted her white skirt accordingly. Her flip-flops lagged behind as she took a seat next to one of her best friends, Johanna West. "Are you sure you're just gonna stick with Bart Simpson over there? I know, like, thirteen other guys that are way cuter than him," Grell offered, her English accent apparent.

Johanna rolled her hazel eyes as she pushed the bright orange side of her hair (wig technically) out of her eyes. Her tan skin glowed against her sun while her eyes reflected the light. She had a fuchsia and orange split dyed wig that went surprisingly well with the rest of her somewhat toned-down clothing. Johanna had worn just a black cut-off tank top and dark denim shorts, her black Doja Cat hoodie slung over the back of her camping chair. She crossed her legs and bounced her Van-covered foot as she spoke again to Grell. "Yes, for the one-millionth time. And no amount of your criticism is going to change that.

"I'm just saying," Grell continued. "If you weren't promised to him, who would you date?"

Johanna and her boyfriend, Bart, have been promised to marry each other ever since he proposed (kind of) early last school year. They've known each other two years prior and figured "why the hell not?" They were a good pair and bounced off of each other well. Most of the time.

The two girls looked over to the rest of their group, which mostly consisted of boys. Walker Auteberry was playing football with Sebastian Michaelis, Matt Connery, and Ronald Knox.

Walker Auteberry was basically a pure athletic paragon. Tall, blond, fit. Not too terribly muscular. His curls bounced on top of his faded hair as it dissolved to match his tanned skin after a trip to Honolulu.

His face lit up with a smile, which was soon turned to shock as Sebastian tackled him to the ground. His porcelain skin and ebony hair were the perfect contrast to Walker's appearance. Sebastian was a bit leaner than Walker, but couldn't get a tan for shit. He was very punk or e-boy and often wore shades of black and gray with tiny bursts of red or purple color here and there.

Ronald Knox was a mega playboy. He also had blond, almost golden, hair with a few brown tuffs in the front that he somehow managed to pull off. His unnaturally green eyes, those similar to Grell's and William T. Spears's, were lit up with intensity as he chucked the ball over to Sebastian once more, making a touchdown. He was the preppiest among the boys.

Matt, Johanna's cousin, was somewhat of a mix between them. His blond hair had been dyed black, a bit darker than Sebastian's. He was more emo than the two. There's a difference. He wasn't putting in too much effort, but he was enjoying himself nonetheless.

Ciel Phantomhive, son to one of the richest families in Boston, sat beside his fiancee, Elizabeth Midford. Also wealthy.

Johanna smirked. "Probably either Sebastian or Ronald."

Grell furrowed her eyebrows. "What the fuck? Sebastian, hell yeah, but Ronald?"

"What?"

"They're complete dorks."

Johanna shrugged. "I have a thing for dorks."

"Then why are you with that?"

The girls looked over to Bartlomiej von Grimmelshausen, Bart for short. His family was traditionally Polish, but they were also the founders of one of the leading sportscar companies in town, Luxus. He had wavy jet black hair styled with a taper fade and ivory skin. He had around the same build as Walker but had grown a bit colder and more business-focused over the past few years. He had just thrown on a short-sleeve flannel with a white tank top underneath and a pair of black shorts. He stood alone as he fished in the nearby lake.

Johanna sighed. "I don't know. We have history and he's not someone I wanna lose."

"I ain't sayin' she a gold digga--"

Johanna playfully swatted Grell's arm. "Shut up! I'm not in it for the money."

"Then what? In my opinion, any of the other guys here would be more compatible with you."

"Right, like William?"

"Hey, now," Grell started, using her parent voice. "William's off-limits."

"Fine," Johanna finished jokingly. Jacquelyn Marek came over after a conversation with her parents at another site. All their parents were friends and they let them have freedom, but not too much. "Hey, what's up?"

Grell looked up to Jackie. She possessed auburn hair and ivory skin, much like Walker. She'd worn a yellow cropped tube top and black shorts today. She seemed distraught but tried hiding it. "Um... Yeah. Hey, do you guys wanna have a sleepover? You know, one last hurrah before high school starts?"

"Sure. It can't be at my house, though," Grell shouted. "Not after last time!"

"He gave me a weird look," Walker yelled back across the field.

"That's not a good reason to chuck a tube TV out the window," Matt replied

The girls giggled to themselves. "I'd have to ask August and Florence but they'll probably be fine with it." Johanna brushed some fallen leaves off her lap as she stood up. "I have to ask Bart something. Be right back."

Jackie moved in closer to Grell. "So when are you gonna make a move?"

Grell sighed dramatically. "I've already told you, once the time's right."

"Yeah, well, you'd better speed it up. He'll get snatched up quickly, especially somewhere as prestigious as the Phantomhive Academy. The geeky nerd bitches will be all up on him if he lets them." Jackie peered over at the adults to make sure they weren't looking and pulled out a Juul. She took a puff before offering it to Grell. "Wanna try? It's strawberries and cream."

Grell wrinkled her nose. "The fuck it is. And, no. I'm getting enough lung cancer just standing next to you." Jackie shrugged and took another hit. "What do you mean he'll get snatched up?"

Jackie raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? Someone like him up at a place like that? His parents are practically begging for grandkids."

Grell gazed longingly at her crush as he sat and scribbled in his notebook. "You're being incredibly vague right now."

"But you do know what I mean, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

Grell's crush, William, was way out of her league. Just like a majority of the people in her friend group, the Spears were wealthy. Will wanted to get into his own business. So did Grell, but while she was thinking of her own fashion line, he was thinking of his own line of supercomputer androids to help humanity. His short dark brown hair was always slicked back and his icy glare could cut through stone. He had a lean build and tall figure to match his business-as-usual aura.

"If you want, I could probably spike everyone's drinks and maybe move things forward a little."

Grell whipped her head towards Jackie, eyes full of disbelief and concern with a hint of curiosity.

"I'm doing it." As Jackie skipped away, Grell couldn't find the words to stop her.

♞

A couple of hours had passed before the parents had decided to give their kids some alone time. As soon as that happened, Jackie called up a local caterer to bring the group a giant bowl of punch. While everyone was busy being preoccupied with each other, she snuck off and poured in a few tiny shots she'd smuggled from the same gas station she'd gotten her Juul.

Grell watched as Johanna and Bart played a game of Marco Polo in the lake. Johanna trod the water as Bart found her hips beneath the waves. The couple smiled having found each other and kissed, right before hearing an "ew" from Matt, and getting splashed by a wave of water. Soon it had turned into a chicken fight, Johanna and Bart versus Matt and Walker.

Grell snapped out of her trance as a red solo cup was presented in front of her. "That could be you pretty soon," Jackie reminded. Without another word, Grell shot down the punch within a few huge gulps and assisted in passing them out, throat burning.

Soon enough, everyone was holding a drink and coming back to the punch bowl for more. Fireflies illuminated the skies as everyone danced to Bottoms Up by Trey Songz.

Jackie marched on top of a stump and raised her free hand. "Attention, assholes of Boston, Massachusetts!" Everyone in the group, including a few others, looked her way. "We're now going to play Truth or Dare now. I go first. Ciel, truth or dare?"

Normally, Ciel would be one of the first to deny a game of Truth or Dare. However, he was under the influence. He shrugged, an arm wrapped around Elizabeth's waist, whose hair had now been taken out of her usual drill tails. "Truth."

"If you were to make out with one guy here, who would it be?"

Ciel eyed Sebastian up and down. "I think we all know the answer to that already." The group let out a chorus of hoots and hollers as Sebastian purred back. Lizzie lazily swatted Ciel's chest.

"Okayokayokayokay-- OKAY!" Jackie silenced them again. "You pick someone now."

Ciel looked up, down, and all-around at the group until his eyes laid on William. "You!" He pointed overdramatically. "Truth or Dare?"

William, giggling like a maniac, had chosen dare. Never took him as a happy drunk, Grell thought to herself. "I dare youuuuu--" Ciel hiccupped-- "to make out with the most attractive person here."

Grell’s cheeks flushed a bright red as she nervously laughed along with her friends, Walker finding it the most hilarious thing in the world and slapping his hand on his knee while he wheezed for air.

She realized two things: one, he could pick someone, literally anyone, but her and confirm exactly what he thought of her. Two, he could kiss her and it would be the start of something beautiful. Either way, it was totally nerve-wracking. It wasn't like Will to spontaneously make out with someone. It wasn't like Will to get drunk without him really even knowing either. It wasn't like him to get drunk.

Grell didn't realize how much she had been overthinking this entire situation until William stood right in front of her.

Shit. Seductive. Go. She tried her best to look playful and flirty despite how much she was shaking right now. She hasn't noticed how much taller Will was to her. At least a good half a foot. Grell decided that it would probably be best to just let herself loose in the moment, so she snaked her arms around William's neck as he wrapped his around her waist. They stretched ever so slightly so that their lips were inches apart until they finally collided with each other.

It was everything Grell had dreamed it would be. His soft lips seemed to fit hers perfectly. Will licked her bottom lip, asking for permission to enter her mouth. She allowed him without hesitation as their tongues wrestled with each other for a good while. Her hands tightened through his hair while his gripped her hips tightly, pulling her closer to his body. Grell could've stayed like that for the rest of eternity--

"Okay, Grell, get you some!"

Johanna laughed at her remark from behind the two as Jackie cackled along with her. William drew away from Grell and opened his eyes, leaving Grell helpless, her eyes longing and her face red.

William smirked as Walker pat him a couple of times on his shoulder and the game continued. Grell couldn't pay much attention, though. She was certain that kiss meant one thing: they were meant to be together.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

[mf-despair-queen]

Ski Trip - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen​

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 18,427

Summary: Stiles wants to make his senior year ski trip count - memorable. He wanted to confess his crush on his long time friend. Yet, things take a turn when she starts to see Stiles in a new light, her own long time crush coming to the surface.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Protected Sex, Oral (fingering, hand job, blow job), Shower Sex, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Public Fingering

Notes: SURPRISE. I LIVE. 

Every year, Beacon Hills High School would hold a winter trip for each of the different classes, a different destination every time.

Freshman year, the drive to Santa Monica was worth listening to the breathy snores of your best friends on either side of you. The sight of the beach, smell of the salty air, the countless unsets you watched while the boys ended up sunburnt.

Sophomore year, the tour of Alcatraz left you with a chill up your spine when you swore you saw a ghost walking up the path while staring out the window. Your pale face will never be forgotten and still, to this day, leaves you the laughing stock of many pack sleepovers.

Junior year gave the relief from the nogitsune, taking a camping trip to Catalina Island. The hiking, the swimming and the campfires with endless smores left you with the sweet feeling - sweeter than the sweet tooth the melted chocolate left you with.

That’s what led you here: Senior year. The final trip you would make in your high school years. Though, that didn’t explain why you were climbing out of a police car at six in the morning on a Friday. The school doors were chained shut - though that didn’t stop people from breaking in before - and a dozen plus buses sitting in the parking lot. Bundles of teens were gathered around, some looking as if they were about to pass out while others were running on so much coffee, they were buzzing and jittering.

You were lucky to be in the middle: tired but awake enough to feel the excitement beginning to seep in. As you climbed from the car, Adidas covered feet placed on the asphalt and the door slammed shut behind you, you couldn’t help but smile at the bus you were going to be loaded into. Coach Finstock was having people load their luggage into the compartment underneath, yelling at students to straighten up for the trip to the mountains.

That’s right. This year’s destination? Big Bear Mountain Resort for a three-day ski trip. Despite your lack of knowledge on skiing, you were hyped to see the vast white horizons, snow being a rarity in Beacon Hills. The eight-hour drive would be painful, the chairs uncomfortable and your shoulder bound to turn into a pillow, but you knew the moment you stepped off the bus and saw the mountains before you, you would be happy you agreed to go.

“Let me out!” you heard behind you. Turning to the voice, you spotted your friend pouting through the window of the cop car you climbed out of. Stiles was stuffed in the back of the vehicle when him and his father arrived to pick you up, Noah kind enough to agree to drop you both off so Roscoe wasn’t left in the parking lot until you returned after the weekend. You had to bite you lip to hold in your snicker, catching Noah’s satisfied grin. You knew he purposefully shoved Stiles in the back, making sure he couldn’t escape on his own.

“What’s the magic word?” you toyed, seeing him pout more.

“If you let me out, I will give you the cookies I stashed away,” he said. You hummed playfully, cocking your head at him. Noah leaned against the car, trying to shield his laugh from watching you torment his son. “Y/N!”

“Y/N what?” you continued.

Stiles sighed, resting his forehead on the glass. “Please?”

You smiled, opening the door before Stiles realized what you were doing. The spastic man flailed his arms wildly, failing to catch himself before he fell to the ground, groaning in pain. You giggled happily, stepping around the stilled man to approach Noah. The sheriff was unloading your luggage, placing each suitcase on the ground before slamming the trunk shut.

“Make sure he doesn’t die,” Noah told you, extending the handle of your suitcase for you. You grinned at your second dad, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. He happily returned the hug, kissing you on the top of the head. “And have fun.”

“We will, Papa Stilinski,” you told him.

“Stop having a love fest without me!” Stiles whined, grabbing his suitcase. “I feel left out and unloved!”

“Your dad loves me more,” you joked, seeing Stiles pout from the corner of your eye. Breaking from the hug, you turned to your best friend. “Fine. Come here, Sti.”

You missed the way his cheeks lit up when you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your head in his chest. The man froze, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your form in return. His father, however, didn’t miss the blush that spread across his cheeks, giving his son a smirk that Stiles knew was the teasing expression he often got for having a crush on you. You were naive enough to miss the clues, leaving Stiles grateful, but his father often prodded at the boy, constantly asking when he would make a move.

“Why don’t you go save us a seat?” Stiles asked, pushing you away. “I’m just going to say bye to my dad and I will be in.”

“Alright,” you agreed. “Don’t take too long. We are supposed to leave soon and Finstock will leave you.”

“I know,” Stiles chuckled, watching you wave one last time at his father before rushing to the bus with your suitcase dragging behind you. Stiles left his lips twitch upwards, the smile on his face growing wider. The smile dropped when he spotted his father’s smile. “What?”

“When are you going to ask her out?” Noah questioned, stepping to his son’s side.

“I don’t want to ruin anything though,” Stiles murmured just loud enough for his dad to hear. “She’s my best friend and I don’t want to lose her by telling her that I’ve had a crush on her since we were ten.”

“If we can have a father-son moment for just a second,” Noah hummed, turning to Stiles. “I’d say go for it. I really don’t think she will reject you like you are thinking.”

“I don’t know…” Stiles sighed. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” Noah let out. “Think about it like this. This is your last trip in high school. You will be skiing together. You will have three days that you can figure something out. But, don’t let that time go to waste. Use that time and show her that you care, and you want to be with her. Use that time to get closer to her in ways you normally can’t or don’t. Don’t let this time go to waste.”

Stiles pursed his lips together, glancing at his dad. “I’ll think about it.”

Noah sighed under his breath but wrapped an arm around his son regardless. “Do what you think is right. I just want to see you both happy.” Noah gave Stiles’ shoulder a firm squeeze, seeing his son smile slightly. “Now, go have some fun with your friends. You deserve it.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Oh, wait,” Noah uttered, rushing to the passenger seat of the car. Stiles quirked his head, following his dad slowly. If his blush before wasn’t bright enough, it sure was now. Noah turned back to Stiles with a box in his hand, the familiar XL label making the boy grimace to himself. “Just to be safe out there, Stiles. I don’t want grandkids right now and-”

“Alright dad! I get it!” Stiles hollered, swiping the box of condoms from his dad’s hand and stuffing it in his backpack. His face was beet red, feeling the piercing gaze of other students on his back. “I’ll be going now! I will text you when we get there so you know that we are safe.”

Stiles rushed away without another word, placing his luggage with the others underneath the bus. His footsteps were quick, the man stumbling up the steps into the bus. Honey eyes found your form quickly, your hand waving wildly at him. His pink lips curled upright, rushing to the seat you saved him beside the window. Scott and Kira were already sat behind you, hands intertwined between them. Malia and Lydia were across the aisle, Malia sleeping already while Lydia was reading a book.

Stiles slid into his seat just as Finstock was climbing into the bus, the doors closing at the wheels rolling. The man slumped into his seat with a heavy sigh, his backpack placed between his feet. You leaned forward to glance at his face, giving him a knowing smile. “So, what did you dad say? I heard you yell about something.”

Stiles’ face flushed, the thought of the condoms in his bag and you - his crush - next to him making his heart race. His thoughts wandered for a second, the image of you in bed with him, the condom package broken into before he rolled the rubber down his shaft. Your legs were spread wide while he prepared himself to slide into you, hearing you moan his name loudly-

“Stiles!” you called, waving your hand in front of his face. The man quickly shook his head, cheeks red. “You cool?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he uttered, leaning back in his seat. “I’m cool. Totally cool…”

This is going to be a long weekend, he thought to himself, staring out the window at the passing trees. The blur of green faded into darkness as his eyes drooped, head lulling to the side without warning.

~

“Stiles, can you stop drooling on my shoulder now, so we can get off the bus?”

Stiles’ nose twitched before sweet, light honey eyes fluttered open, your face blurred from drowsiness. His lips parted with a monstrous yawn, his hand coming up to wipe the trail of drool that was dried to his chin. His eyes continued to blink to focus his vision on the sight of vast white through the window outside, the people he grew up with and went to school with for his entire life running around with cheerful smiles. The trees, despite their green nature, were covered in the pristine white glow, adding to the natural beauty he wasn’t used to. The sun above reflected off the ground, making everything glisten before him.

“Wow. We’re here,” he murmured, turning back to you. His face reddened when he realized that the bus was empty besides you and him. Worse yet, there was a wet spot on your red Beacon Hills lacrosse hoodie that you stole from Stiles’ closet once, never returning the warm material. It was the evidence of his sleep - the evidence that he had, once again, fallen asleep on your shoulder and shamefully drooled on you. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m used to it,” you giggled, standing from the seat. Your arms extended above your head with a stretch, the bottom of your hoodie and shirt riding up to show a small portion of skin. The sight alone made Stiles’ face heat up, turning away as best he could; though, ultimately, he failed. He continued to stare, admiring the pleased look you had from the satisfying pop of stiff limbs, the way your chest protruded, becoming more evident through his hoodie, and the curvature of your backside in the tight jeans that hugged your form perfectly.

He had it bad.

“Well, let’s go sleepyhead. The rest of the pack went on ahead while I attempted to wake you up for the last ten minutes.”

“Sorry,” Stiles laughed, following you from the bus. A cold shiver ran up his spine from the chill of the weather, but he marveled at the mountain and the resort that you were staying on. The ski slopes were packed with people, the ski lift running with dozens of people headed up for a round of fun. The string of lodges and cabins contrasted the slopes, roofs covered in the same fluffy snow that he saw in every direction. He grinned at the sight of hot tubs, steam billowing from the hot water through the cold air, cheeks tinging a light shade of pink at the thought of what could happen with that. His heart was racing with excitement and thrill, swallowing the lump in his throat of hopes of something happening that would change his life.

Glancing around for his friends - his pack - he turned to you for answers. “Where is everyone?”

Before you could respond, a snowball was flung through the air, hitting Stiles in the back of the head. Said male flailed around obnoxiously, falling face first into the snow under him. A loud snicker floated through the air, your hand covering your mouth to shield your own laugh. Stiles’ groans were muted, his mouth full of snow. Scott was tossing another snowball in his hands, eyes flickering a crimson red that screamed werewolf-y mischief.

“That’s just rude, Scotty,” Stiles choked, flopping onto his back and sitting up in the snow.

“Well, you’re the one that kept us waiting!” Scott teased, extending a hand to help his friend up. “We’ve been waiting for you guys to join us. Finstock is getting the rooms situated right now, but they aren’t wanting us to head up the slopes until tomorrow. He said we could either explore the main lodge area since that’s where the food is and they have some games like pool or air hockey. Or, we can stay outside and play in the snow! So, we decided to stay outside and play around with each other.”

“That sounded dirty,” you laughed. Scott rolled his eyes while Stiles laughed, having to catch himself on the side of the bus in his fit of chuckles. “I think it was a great decision, Scott.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, taking your hand to pull you away. “Let’s go meet up with everyone!”

Scott gave Stiles a knowing look from behind as he watched your forms retreat away, his ears listening to the rapid heartbeat in Stiles’ chest. His grin grew, planning to talk to his girlfriend later about the matter at hand.

Your arms were thrown around the girls when you spotted them, breaking away from Stiles’ handhold to run towards them. They all laughed happily, jumping around in the snow. Boots crunches against the white ground, Stiles left to roll his eyes at your enthusiasm.

“I’m so glad we are all here, guys,” you mentioned aloud, breaking from the hug to look around at everyone. Scott stopped next to Stiles, all eyes beginning to bore into your form. “It really means a lot to me that everyone could be here. I know we’ve lost people and some of us aren’t around, but they are here with us in spirit. We’ve come a long way since Scott besides to become this badass werewolf and all.”

Scott rolled his eyes, laughing lightly. “Thanks.”

“You know I love you, Scotty,” you joked. “But, really guys. This is the last time we have together. And we’ve been through a lot to get here. After everything with Theo a few months ago, I’m just beyond grateful that we could all be here now to enjoy these days together. I want us to make every second count. This is a great chance to make memories and do some pack bonding. And who knows, maybe these memories will be the kind we will never forget. This is a once in a lifetime chance and I don’t want us to regret not doing something while we are here.”

Stiles glanced at his feet, taking in your words. In a way, they reminded him of what his dad told him. The urge to make the move, to finally put it out there how he felt, was looming strongly over him. This would be the last chance to do something like this. This was the last trip of high school. This was the last time that everyone would be together. But more important, this could be the last chance he had to confess in a romantic way before you would leave for college. If he didn’t do something, he could lose the chance forever.

Was he willing to take the chance to make a move, to not regret that he didn’t use this time to do something? He would have to think about it heavily. He didn’t want to ruin what he had, but he also wanted to make this time count no matter what.

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Malia asked, picking up a handful of snow. Her eyes glowed a familiar cobalt blue, an evil grin growing on her face. “Who’s up for a snowball fight?”

“How do you even know about snowball fights?” Lydia pondered.

“Kira told me about it,” she hummed. “All I know is I get to throw this at people and I’m down for that.”

“Oh, Malia,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Well, we can do three on three.”

“As long as it’s not all of the supernaturals on one team against us,” Stiles joked, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not in the mood to get my ass completely kicked because someone has supernatural abilities they can use against us. I’ve had it happen before while practicing lacrosse. I’m look at you, McCall.” Stiles turned to glower at his best friend who maintained an innocent face.

“Fine. How about Scott, Kira and Stiles against me, Lydia and Malia? Does that sound fair?” you offered.

“Why do Scott and Kira get to be on the same team?” Stiles whined. His lips sealed before continuing his thought, the pleading sense of wanting to be on your team on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t sure if he could throw a snowball at you reasonably.

“Because Scott and Kira won’t aim at each other if they are on separate teams.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles muttered. “Sounds good to me.” Everyone else was in agreement, splitting off to set up bundles of snow to act as forts.

Before Stiles could join the couple, you stopped him, holding out a pair of gloves. “Don’t forget your gloves, doofus. We don’t want you to get sick.” His lips remained pursed, watching you slide the gloves on his veiny hands, his skin softer than you remembered. Even with the multitude of calluses on his palm, his hands were soft, fingers tracing the veins subtly.

“Thanks,” he mumbled with a smile, your cheeks lighting up to match his. Your eyes locked, your gaze lost in his deep brown eyes. You were melting inside from the delicious honey color. He had to clear his throat to break the stare down you were having. “I-I should go join Scott and Kira.”

“Yeah. You do that,” you told him. Stiles backed away, tripping over his feet before running away, ducking behind a massive pile of snow. His quiff popped out from the top, making you laugh. He peered over to see your still form, nervously ducking away, rubbing a hand to his hair anxiously.

The snowball fight began not too long after. You had joined Lydia and Malia behind a small snow fort, making a plan of attack that was sure to win. You had Lydia after all she was the perfect strategist in this situation. You broke away from each other, hiding behind your manmade forts while balls of snow began to fly through the air. Loud bouts of laughter floated through the air, snow colliding with body parts in soft thumps for the most part. Malia tended to throw too hard, but the normally ended up hitting Scott in the face in those occurrences.

While hiding behind a fort to the side, a pile of snowballs ready for attack, you missed Stiles sneaking up on your side with a giant snowball in his hand. Your eyes were focused forward until your ears perked up, the sound of his footfalls growing louder. In a quick swoop, you grabbed a snowball from your pile, pelting at the man. Stiles attempted to dodge it, succeeding in avoiding the hit but dropping his own snowball from his tangled feet. A loud yelp hit your ears before feeling his weight sink down onto you, his body pressing against yours completely.

You closed your eyes upon impact, groaning from the slight ache you experienced from the collision. Your back rested against the snowy ground, Stiles’ arms on either side of you. Flecks of snow were laced in your hair, the beanie you had been wearing having fallen off when your bodies hit the ground, and on your face. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, meeting the embarrassed stare of Stiles.

It took a moment to realize how close you were together. Your legs ended up twisted together, chests pressed together - rising and falling in sync. Puffs of air were exposed through parted lips, his hot breath fanning over your face. His breath was minty and mixed with the natural strawberry and mint scent he exuded. Your faces were close enough that yours noses brushed together, lips nearly touching. Your heart was pounding to your chest, face flushed a beet red.

At this distance, you could clearly count the moles on his cheeks. You could admire the bright red of his lips. You could marvel at the bright color of his eyes. Your fingers itched to feel his soft locks. It was a rare chance to admire him, recognizing just how handsome he was. But this was one of the few times that you felt something inside you churn, your stomach knotted with unknown emotions.

The feeling tightened, growing more prevalent when he carefully lifted a hand, brushing his glove covered fingers through your hair and along your cheeks. “You had some snow…” he murmured, words falling off before he could finish a complete thought. His honey eyes quivered with an unreadable emotion, his hot breath fanning over your lips. One small move and your lips would connect with his…

Stiles yelped and fell to the side when a snowball connected to the side of his head, his body sinking into the soft flakes. Sitting up flustered, face bright red and hot and bits of white falling from your locks onto your lap, you turned to see Malia cheering happily, fist pumping the air. “Bullseye!”

“I’ve been hit,” Stiles called desperately, flailing his arms through the snow to make a snow angel. “I am off to heaven. See? I’m a snow angel now.”

He sent you a cheesy smirk, finding his face full of snow after a brief encounter with your unamused expression. You stood from the snow quickly, your footsteps crunching away from him. And with each step, you couldn’t explain why your heart wouldn’t stop pounding against your chest. Placing a hand over your heart, you pondered on what happened, Stiles’ face flashing on repeat through your mind.

What is going on?

~

“Here are your keys!” Finstock called as everyone gathered after dinner, people rummaging through the piles of suitcases to find their belongings. “And I will have no indecent acts while we are here! Keep your grubby little hands to yourself! And yes, that pertains to you too, Greenburg! Even though no one will want to put their hands on you.”

You slid through the group to grab the keys for the room you were sharing with Kira. You returned to the group grinning, the two keys dangling from your finger. “Ready to go? I could use a nice hot shower after all that snow earlier.”

“Yeah, about that,” she murmured, wrapping a dainty hand around your wrist. The kitsune dragged you away quickly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“Well, I was hoping you would switch with Scott for the weekend.”

You blinked at the thunder kitsune, coking your head in confusion. “Eh?”

“Well, this is our last trip and I was hoping to have some…” Her face brightened, her eyes avoiding yours. Strands of her dark hair covered her face to hide the blush she had forming. “Some quality time together. I talked it over with Scott earlier and he was going to talk to Stiles, but we thought that you two could room together so me and Scott can be together. What do you think?”

Your mouth went dry, palms growing sweaty. Nervously, you wiped them on your jeans, rubbing your lips together. “But Finstock-”

“Doesn’t have to know!” Kira quickly cut in. “Please, Y/N. It would mean so much to me. And you and Stiles are great friends anyway! So, there won’t be any awkwardness.”

Right.

You let out a heavy sigh, handing her the key to the room. “Fine. Give Scott the key and he can give it to Stiles. You owe me big time, Yukimura.”

Kira squealed, wrapping her arms around your neck before rushing towards her boyfriend who was still engaged in a conversation with his best friend. Both boys turned to look at the kitsune, yet Stiles’ eyes managed to lock with yours across the main lobby of the lodge. Your stomach churned at the awkward, lopsided smile he sent your way, taking the key from Kira.

The walk up to the rooms with the pack was oddly silent, the tension palpable between you and Stiles. It was the first time you had ever felt this sort of weight on you, and you couldn’t explain why it started. Since arriving in the mountains, it felt like things were different, and you were struggling to understand what it was and why it was happening. You couldn’t breathe looking at him.

Stiles quickly opened the door to your room, both of you rushing inside before Finstock could place his finger on the switch. Stiles clicked on the light in the room, both of you aweing at the interior. The two queen beds had red duvets neatly made with tons of fluffy while pillows at the head. The closet was large enough for both suitcases. The bathroom had a large glass shower with a rain shower that would coat your boat from above. The view showed the slopes, the moon glowing off the snow along the mountainside, and the steam from the hot tubs that resided just below your room.

“This is nice,” Stiles chuckled, flopping onto one of the beds. “I could get used to this.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, pushing aside any awkwardness. Your body crashed next to his on his bed, kicking off your boots until they thumped to the plush carpet. A brief silence filled the air between you, both of you turning to stare at each other. The second your eyes met, you could feel your cheeks heating up, subtly admiring his handsome features. Licking your lips, you broke the silence. “So, how much you want to bet Scott and Kira are gonna bang all weekend?”

“Oh, no doubt,” Stiles laughed, shaking his head but never breaking his eye contact with you. Without warning his hand rose to brush through your hair, his lips curling into a cute smile. “I’m glad we came, Y/N.”

“Yeah…” you hummed quietly. “I should go shower.”

“In a bit,” Stiles mused, rolling onto his side and wrapping an arm around your waist. Your body burned from the contact with his skin, but you didn’t fight the feeling of butterflies that fluttered inside. Stiles’ face burrowed into your shoulder, his hug on your body tightening. “Let’s just stay like this for a minute.”

You didn’t say anything, letting your eyes drift closed. Your nose nestled into his soft chocolate quiff, inhaling the waterfall mist he used as a shampoo. You relaxed in his arms, drifting off to sleep with three tiny words that lingered in your dreams, your heart aching for more.

You’re so beautiful…

You awoke in the middle of the night still locked in the same position. Your eyes widened, slowly unwinding from his embrace as Stiles slept soundly. You slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. With your back to the door, you slumped to the ground, taking heavy breaths.

“What are you doing to me, Stiles? Why are you making me feel like this?” you asked yourself under your breath. “Am I really developing a crush on you?”

~

“Who’s ready to ski?!” Scott called to everyone as you gathered your gear from the rental desk. The skis were tucked under your arm, your hands adjusting the beanie on your head. Small puffs of air left your lips as you followed the pack outside to the lifts.

“You’re one to talk, McCall,” you laughed, poking him with the ski. “You’re snowboarding!”

“Same difference!”

“No, Scotty. It’s not,” Stiles chuckled.

“Go to hell.” Scott rolled his eyes, shoving Stiles in the shoulder. Inadvertently, Stiles crashed into your side, making you halt and stare at the ground. Stiles, too, stilled, glancing back at you. Since you woke up, things felt off between you. Stiles was sad to find you curled up in your own bed instead of in his arms. For you, you were unsure of these feelings that were growing inside you, even more unsure of how to address them. Or, even if you should.

Stiles could tell something was different with you, but he tried to lighten the mood, wrapping his arm around you anyway. He felt you tense briefly, letting out a deep breath. “I’m sorry for whatever I did,” he whispered.

“What?” you questioned quickly, glancing up at him. “You didn’t-”

“I always do something. You can’t even argue that fact,” he chuckled. “I don’t want things to be awkward. I want us to have fun today!”

“Things aren’t awkward! I’m not awkward,” you denied quickly. “I-I’m just nervous…”

“Nervous?” Stiles inquired. He blinked in wonder, glancing between you and the slope that your eyes turned to. “About skiing?”

“Well, yeah,” you covered, pushing the weird vibe between you and the man you were rapidly developing feelings for over the course of the trip deep inside your pocket for later. “I’ve never really been skiing before…”

“Seriously?” he asked, honey eyes widening. “But, we went all the time when we were little before my mom died.”

“Correction. You and Scott always went. I always ended up sick or stuck to sledding. I never tried skiing.”

“Well, shit,” he huffed, pursing his lips. You watched him closely, eying the side of his face. A smile formed on your face from his silly appearance, the silly knit monkey hat on his head covering most of his hair, some strands of chocolate poking out. The braided cords down the front dangled against his speckled cheeks, swaying in the chilly breeze that blew by. His coat was thick and a matching monkey scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck, tucked into the front of the coat to keep out of the way. His gloved hand reached up to ruffle his hair, halting when it came in contact with the hat he wore, opting to toy with the free bunches that clung to his forehead. Finally, his head turned back towards you with a smile ebbed upon it, his teeth glistening in the sunlight - pearly white and as pure as the snow you stood in. “Well, one of us will just have to teach you!”

“No, no, no. It’s fine, Stiles. Maybe this is just a bad idea,” you told him. “I don’t want to waste anyone’s time by trying to help me ski. I want you guys to have fun, so maybe I should just stay here.”

“Y/N, we will have fun if you are there with us. It’s not a waste of our time to help you.”

“Stiles, I don’t know-”

“Just come on! I will let the others know what is going on and once we get up the mountain, we can get you on those skis with someone to help you learn!” he told you, beginning to run forward. He turned on his heel, taking steps backward before calling to you again. “Come on! Get on the ski lift!”

“Stiles, I don’t know,” you pouted.

“Don’t argue with me now, Y/N,” he laughed. “I want to help you. I don’t like seeing you sad. You’re too beautiful to be sad. You look more radiant when you smile and have fun with the rest of us.”

He took off, leaving your face red and burning. You stood still, covering your face with your hands. “God dammit, Stiles Stilinski. What are you doing to me?”

“Y/N!”

“I’m coming! Keep your panties on!”

Your nerves were sinking in as you sat on the ski lift with Stiles, the spazz bouncing in the seat. You had to slap his arm to keep him from moving too much, the feeling of dread resting as a lump in your gut at the thought of the lift breaking. It was swaying too much as it is. Your heart hammering against your chest added to the knot that swirled inside you when he carefully took your hand in his, his gloved thumb smoothing across the top of your hand in an attempt to give you comfort. Your face buried in your scarf to hide the blush on your face, darting your eyes to the side of his face to admire him and keep from staring at the large drop below you.

Getting off the lift was easy enough but strapping on the skis was the worst. Your butt was cold while sitting in snow at the top of the mountain. Your hands shook as the skis were strapped to your feet. Your heart dropped at the slop before you, the height of the mountain making you queasy. Everyone was bustling around with excite, Scott already making his way down the mountain on his snowboard with loud hoots and hollers. Malia and Kira weren’t far behind, leaving you to wonder how you were going to descend the snow banks without eating snow or breaking a limb.

You were already mentally preparing yourself for an injury.

Your eyes were glued to the snow when two gloved hands found their way into your sight. Lifting your eyes, you were met with the sparkling honey eyes that glowed from the winter sun overhead and a lopsided smile that matched the funky monkey hat he wore. You couldn’t help but giggle and smile, taking his hands to stand from your spot, knees concaving in to keep from sliding to your doom.

“Why are you laughing?” he pouted at you. You laughed more, shaking your head.

“I can’t believe you are wearing that hat,” you laughed. Stiles cast his eyes upwards as if he could the grey, knit material that covered his hair. One hand released yours, patting his head and feeling the red yarn ball on the top, the strings floating in all directions with the wind. You bit your lip to hold in your laugh, burrowing into your scarf to avoid his gaze - the gaze that made you hot. “That’s the gag gift I got you last Christmas.”

“You call it a gag. I call it rad.”

“That was horrible,” you teased. Stiles rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “So, what’s the plan? I thought someone was going to help me since you guys dragged me up here against my will-”

“You came willingly.”

“-and you said that you would talk to Scott about helping me learn. But big, bad alpha werewolf Scott Dickhead McCall went flying down the mountain without warning. Malia and Kira weren’t far behind him.”

“Well, um,” Stiles began, his own face burrowing in his scarf to hide his red-hot blush. The feeling of your eyes burning into his skull made him sweat, the young man clearing his throat a few times. His Adam’s Apple stealthily bobbed with each swallow he did to moisten his throat. His palms were sweaty and for once, he wasn’t more glad to be wearing gloves. Otherwise, you would pick up on his nervousness. Clearing his throat one last time, extra loudly, his eyes lifted to meet yours. “The others decided I would help.”

“What, did you draw the shortest straw?”

Stiles frowned, wanting to retort with the fact that he wanted to nominate himself at first even if he wasn’t the best at skiing himself. He was mixed since he wanted you to have fun and he was most likely to fall on his face, yet he wanted to spend time with you. When the others suggested he should do it, he knew he wouldn’t have to push for either side. He knew arguing wouldn’t get him out of the task because once Scott named Stiles your ski instructor for the day, the others would back him. Part of him was happy that the others agreed on him, but the other half knew he was being set up to be close to his crush.

Scott’s evil glint gave it away.

“I’m offended,” Stiles huffed jokingly to cover up his slight disappointment. “Naw, the others just thought I would be the best to help you. Us humans have to stick together in the pack, you know!”

“Everyone thought that you, Stiles Stilinski, the clumsiest one amongst us, was right to teach me how to not fall face first into the snow or break my leg while skiing down a very tall mountain?” You laughed. Stiles nodded with a large smile. “That makes no sense, Sti.”

“Exactly. It’s all about misdirection.” His hands flew wildly around him cutely.

“You confuse me, Stilinski,” you huffed, trying to straighten your body. Two hands found your waist when you wobbled on the skis, a sigh of relief leaving your lips when you didn’t fall. “You know, for someone as clumsy as you, you’re surprisingly very steady on those skis.”

Stiles smiled down at you, chuckling deeply. The sound of his husky voice escaping from deep inside his throat made you quiver in his hold. “Don’t let me fool you. This is all a facade. My legs are shaking so bad and I’m surprising myself that I’m even standing up straight right now. I’m pretty sure if I try to back away and ski own this mountain right now, I will end up with snow in places that it doesn’t belong.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help,” you teased. Stiles flushed a bright pink, your cheeks mirroring his immediately after. His fingers seemed to curl into your sides tighter, making your body burn. “So, how about teaching me to ski?”

“Right,” he laughed.

The second he attempted to back away from you, your feet, strapped to the skis, slid under your weight, the support you had before no long present. A squeak left your lips, bracing yourself to fall forward into the snow as your feet slid out from under you. Luckily, the two hands of Stiles found your waist once more, the cold touch of his gloves hitting your skin when your jacket rode up. Your face hit Stiles’ broad chest, your savior stumbling and sliding back in the snow. The skis didn’t stop you from falling sending you both to the ground - you on your knees and Stiles on his ass. You were resting between his legs, pressed close to his body.

His deep groan rang in your ears, your hands gripping at his jacket. Your eyes squeezed shut, nose flaring before even attempting to lift your face to look at him. A wave of heat rained over you when you realized how close you were once again, a repeat of the prior day playing in your mind. Your noses brushed together, his warm, minty breath fanned over your face, his hands held your sides. A shiver ran up your spine - and not from the snow that made your jeans wet.

“S-sorry,” you uttered lowly.

Stiles didn’t respond. He seemed to be daydreaming, his eyes glued to your face. His lips pursed together and parted slightly, his tongue darting out to wet them. Golden orbs flickered between your eyes and your red lips, his fingers gripping your sides harder every time they met your awkward smile. Under your palm, you could feel his rapidly pounding heart slamming into his rib cage at an uneven pace.

His hand rose from the ground where he was keeping himself upright. You thought you had a loose strand of hair he was going to push back, but nothing was free from the beanie you had on. The frozen tips of his fingers grazed the side of your cheek, pulling you closer to him. Each inch his fingers slid across, your body shook more, wishing it was his soft skin that was brushing against your skin. Your stomach was churning with a range of emotions, hormones running on high. Your body was burning from the unexplainable feelings and your mind was screaming at you to do something - anything - to release the pent-up emotion.

He was inching forward, lips parting. His low voice escaped, your ears barely recognizing his words. “Why must you do this to me?” he murmured to himself, not expecting you to hear him at all. “You drive me crazy.”

“Stiles,” you mumbled, meeting his eye. He leaned closer to you, you leaned closer to him. You didn’t know what he was doing, but your mind kept repeating the same thing: kiss him. You were desperate to feel his pink, cupid shaped lips on yours, wanting to feel how soft they were. You had dreamt about the feeling all night, ever since these weird feelings started. You kept picturing that his lips were as soft as his skin and as warm as his heart, and you wanted to find out for sure.

“Y/N,” he started. His lips were nearly upon yours. They were so close that all you would have to do is lean forward. You hesitated, not knowing if he would want to kiss you back - and you wanted him to make the first move. A puff of hot hair hit your lips as he exhaled, slightly panting. “I-”

“COWABUNGA!”

A mound of snow hit the side of your head, your body - and Stiles’ - falling into the snow. You huffed out a growl, sitting up in the snow. Stiles coughed, wiggling uncomfortably where he sat. In the time you were trying to keep your balance with Stiles, not even beginning your lesson, Scott had managed to make his way down the mountain, onto the ski lift, and back up to the spot you were at now. When he slid to a stop, the snow went flying straight onto your forms, ruining the moment you were sharing.

“Seriously Scott?” you glowered, bundling the snow in your hands and chucking it at him. Scott laughed, his werewolf instincts kicking in to swipe the snowball away before it nailed him. “You’re such an ass!”

“You guys are slow! What are you still doing up here?” Scott asked. Your glare on the wolf narrowed, your rage seething out.

“Stiles is trying to teach me to ski! Excuse me for not being a skilled wolf like you. I went to move and fell, taking Stiles down with me. Then you just had to come around and splatter us with snow.”

Scott grinned. “Well, excuse me. Sorry that you guys are slow and falling over each other,” he joked. “Though, I’m surprised you fell first. I figured it would have been Stiles.”

Stiles glared at his friend, the underlying teasing tone about his best friend’s crush too obvious. “You’re an ass.”

“You guys love me.”

“I don’t know. We fell over, you covered us with snow and now I have snow down my pants. I didn’t need a cold dick and ass, McCall,” Stiles grumbled. “I am questioning this friendship.”

Stiles stood carefully, almost falling on his face again before helping you up. He helped to brush the snow off your body, fixing your beanie on your head and the scarf around your neck. Returning the favor, you swiped at the wads of snow that clung to him, Stiles chuckling when you played with the monkey hat more than necessary. Scott watched the entire time, his evil grin growing.

“Well, I’m going to have some more fun. Try not to fall for each other even more than you already have,” Scott mused, eying your close stature.

Stiles glared at his friend. “Scott!” he called as the werewolf took off down the slope. Stiles broke from your hold, preparing to go after his friend, stumbling in the snow to start. He left you unsteady, unsure what to do to get down the mountain. You were sliding through the snow after Stiles, your feet and skis turning inwards. The handles were still resting in the snow, unable to be used to help you stop. You were beginning to rocket towards Stiles’ back.

“Stiles!”

He turned to look at you when he heard you call his name, your body hitting his. You were sent tumbling into the snow again, legs tangled with each other. His mouth was full of snow and your forehead hit the back of his head. Every inch of your body was pressed against his, your face flaring up. Scott was laughing as he disappeared down the slope, leaving you with the man you were developing a crush on.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, rolling off of him into the snow. Stiles pushed himself up on his hands, coughing from the snow he had swallowed from the forceful impact. You were lying next to him, staring at the side of his face. Slowly, he looked over at you, making your cheeks heat up. He still felt so close, but your nerves were wracked from the ruined moment. You weren’t sure where you stood and if you should try to resume what was once started.

“It’s fine,” he said, standing from the snow once more. His gloved hand extended towards you, ready to help you up. His lips curled upwards into a smile, your own smile impossible to keep down. Even with the anxiety he gave you, the dawning feelings that seemed to be surfacing from inside you, you loved this moment. Your hand slid into his, fitting perfectly in his larger grasp. He lifted you to your feet, hand on your waist so you didn’t fall again.

A silence filled the air between you until you cleared your throat, the staring contest that started when you were placed to your feet ending. You had been focused on the golden glint in his eye, marveling his handsome features. Your cheeks were hot when you blinked, looking away from him. “S-so, um,” you choked out. “How about that ski lesson?”

“Y-yeah,” he breathed shakily, shaking off the nerves that were creeping in. “R-right. Skiing. Now. Let’s teach you without me dying.”

You giggled, Stiles smiling at the sound. “That’s not possible.”

“A guy can hope,” he quipped, shuffling away to grab the poles. “So, let’s get you skiing.”

“Yeah.”

When did I start feeling this way for you, Stiles?

~

The steam escaped the bathroom as you shuffled into the room. The sun had long set, dinner was done and gone, and it was technically quiet time. Which ultimately meant that it was time for people to gather in their rooms to hang out, some hanging out in the lobby playing pool and foosball. You had agreed to meet the girls in Lydia and Malia’s room to hang out. Malia had brought an entire suitcase of snacks, so you were planning to have a girl’s gossip night that was long overdue. After dinner, you rushed back to your room to shower and change before spending hours with the girls.

You froze when you spied Stiles sitting on his bed, surprised he was still around. “Hey,” you spoke lowly, catching his attention. “What are you doing here? I figured you’d be hanging out with Scott or something.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. His voice shook slightly, your head cocking to the side. You could feel his anxiousness seeping out of him. “I mean no. I wasn’t planning to hang out with him tonight. He said he was going to crash early because he didn’t sleep much last night.”

“That’s way too much information from Scott.”

“That’s what I said,” Stiles chuckled for a second before losing his smile. “I was thinking about maybe hitting the hot tub for a while. It’s not something we get to do very often and I thought it’d be a nice way to relax. I was thinking, um…” he paused, rubbing his lips together. “I was thinking maybe you’d like to come with? Just as a way to get out of the room, relax in some hot water. It’s in an indoor garden area too so it’s a nice setting. I scoped it out earlier.”

“Well, I would love to but,” you told him, your heart dropping when he frowned sadly. “I already made plans with the girls.”

“O-Oh. Yeah. That’s fine. I completely understand. Well, um, if you get bored of girl talk, you’re free to join me I guess. I’d love it if you did. I’ll wait for you if you want.”

“Stiles-”

“It’s fine. I swear,” he cut you off, grabbing his towel. You noticed that he was wearing his swim trunks and a hoodie, ready to head out. “Go and have fun. I will see you later.”

He rushed for the door before you could say anything more, the door slamming shut behind him. You let out a sigh, dropping your towel on the bed. You felt horrible for bailing on him, not wanting him to be alone, but you had made plans. But his offer replayed over and over, making the butterflies rampage inside you. The thought of Stiles in a hot tub - you were flustered.

Shaking off the thought, you brushed out your hair quickly, grabbed your room key and ran out of the room, straight to Malia and Lydia’s room. The girls were waiting for you, letting you get settled before the talking started. The conversations ranged from school, home life, relationships. You name it. For the most part, you stayed silent, listening to the girls’ rant and rave with each other while Lydia did their nails. You were snacking on potato chips, letting your mind wander back to the man that had been on your mind since your stepped foot on the mountain.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Lydia called, snapping her freshly painted nail in your face. You blinked, turning to look at her.

“What?”

“You’re staring off into space,” she said.

“And you’ve been quiet this entire time,” Kira added.

“And you reek,” Malia huffed. The others glanced at her in confusion. “What? She smells like anxiety. And something else that I only ever smell from Stiles when he’s around her. I don’t know what it is.”

“I’m fine guys. Sorry to be spacing on you.”

“You aren’t getting away from this,” Lydia mused. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah. So, you’re thinking about him.”

“Him?” you asked.

“Stiles,” all three girls said in unison. Your face lit up, beet red to the max.

“W-what? No, I’m not!”

“Oh girl. You’re lying to yourself badly,” Lydia hummed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you told them. “I’m not thinking about him. Stiles is just my friend. Nothing else is going on between us.”

“Do you really not see it?” Kira asked. You blinked at her, the girl shaking her head. “The way he looks at you, as if you are his whole world? The way he smiles when you are around? The way he talks about you like you are an angel?”

“The way you smile when he makes you laugh? The way your eyes light up when he is mentioned?” Lydia continued.

“The erection he gets by staring at you?” Malia blatantly said. You all looked at her, seeing her shrug. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Not the point,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “The point is that He likes you, Y/N. He always has. He has liked you for so long.”

“No. No, no, no. He has a crush on you, Lyds. Not me. He told me himself.”

“Do you really think he would tell you to your face that he likes you?” Kira pointed out. Your eyes fell to your lap, avoiding their looks.

“He’s had a crush on you for like… forever,” Lydia said. “And you like him back.”

“Do I?” you asked, fiddling with your fingers. “I don’t get it though. How did I start crushing on him all of a sudden? I don’t understand how these feelings hit me so hard, so fast.”

“You’ve always liked him,” Malia said. You turned to look at the coyote, waiting for her to continue. “I may not be the best when it comes to these human relationships, but even I can see that you have always liked him and he has always liked you. When we dated, he always talked about you. He would say your name in his sleep. He would smell different when you were around. And you would always brighten up when he walked into the room. You would talk to him every day. He was the first person you would call when something happens. You would always start a conversation with something like ‘Well Stiles said this’.”

“Let me ask you this. Does he make you smile all the time? Do you think about him all the time? Do you crave being by his side, knowing that he is safe and happy? Do you want what is best for him?” Lydia asked.

You thought about him - about your entire relationship with him. He was the only person to always make you smile. He always was there for you. He was able to cheer you up when no one else could. You loved spending every second of the day with him. He made your heart flutter, making you feel special. You craved his happiness - he deserved the world. And you wanted to be the one to give it to him.

“I…” you started, hugging your knees. “Have I always liked him?”

“Yup,” Lydia said, popping the p for emphasis. “You probably buried the feelings because you didn’t want to ruin anything with him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Y/N, you like Stiles. And until now, you have ignored those feelings. You are only beginning to see it now I think because Stiles stopped hiding his feelings back. He’s been very obvious this entire trip,” Lydia pointed out.

“I…” you began to say again before collapsing on Malia’s bed. “Fuck. How could this happen? How have I been so stupid? How could I overlook such an obvious crush?” your body began to thrash against the bed, whining loudly. “He means everything to me. He makes me smile, he makes me happy. He’s smart, handsome, funny, caring. He’s everything I could ever ask for. And I’ve ignored the funny feelings around him because he was my friend. He’s Stiles - my best friend.”

“Girl, you have it bad,” Kira laughed.

“Don’t point it out!” you bellowed, throwing a pillow at the girl’s head. She laughed, catching the pillow and hugging it to her chest. “Now that you say it out loud like this, it hurts to realize how much I like him. God, I’m pathetic. I can’t even pick up on my own feelings for a guy. No wonder I’ve only ever had one boyfriend.”

“Eric was hot though,” Malia hummed.

“He was a dick.”

“A hot dick.”

“Well, now that you actually admit that you do like him like we all knew, why are you here? You could be hanging out with him right now,” Lydia mused, glancing at her freshly painted nails.

“Well, I promised to hang out with you guys-”

“Then you were distracted with your thoughts.”

“-Because I was confused!” you squeaked, flushing a bright red. “I kept thinking about him. He’s been running through my mind since we got here. All of these things just kind of hit at once.”

“Back to the point,” Lydia pushed.

“I told him I couldn’t hang out because I was here with you guys. And he was going to hang out at the jacuzzi for a bit anyway.” The three girls around you stayed silent, leaving you to blink in confusion. “What?”

“You left him to hang out in the hot tub. Alone?” they asked.

“Well… yes?”

“Do you understand what you are saying?” Kira asked.

“...No?”

“You’re hopeless,” Lydia sighed. “That boy is hopelessly in love with you and probably thinking he hopelessly fell in love with a girl who will never return her feelings. He is out there waiting for you in that hot tub while you sit up here asking questions. He wanted to spend some time with you alone in a, need I say it like this, but a very hot way.”

“No. That’s not true. I’m sure there are others out there. Right?” you asked.

“I’m pretty sure everyone is inside. I heard Greenberg say something about drinks in the lobby on the other end of the building,” Malia bluntly said.

Pushing yourself into a sitting position, your eyes fell to your lap. Your mind went to the saddened face of Stiles before he bolted from the room, his offer for you to join him whenever on repeat. You recalled every second of your lives together, the caring, loving look he would cast upon you when he stared at you from across the room - or even next to you. The way he put you first, taking hits to protect you from the supernatural, made your heart race. Your ears rang with the sound of his uneven heartbeat when your arms would wrap around his waist, your head rest on his chest. His strong arms would wrap around your petite frame, his body make you seem small no matter what, giving you warmth.

But the familiar sadness you saw not even an hour ago in his golden eyes cast a shadow on all of those happy thoughts.

“Do you really think he’s waiting for me in the hot tub?” you spoke lowly, daring to glance at the girls. All three shared a look before speaking in unison.

“Hell yeah.”

Your lips pursed together, hands curling into tight fists. Resolution made your stomach churn, skin beginning to burn. Your eyes squeezed shut before you stood from the bed you once laid upon, rummaging through the room to find your flip flops. The girls didn’t seem to mind as they resumed a conversation, the only knowing expression being the sly smiles on their faces. You didn’t bother to grab anything more than your room key before making your way to the door.

“I’m sorry to leave so early guys. I just… I have some loose ends to tie up. I’ll see you girls in the morning for breakfast.”

The door slammed shut behind you with a loud bang. With your presence gone, the three girls shared a high five, bursting out laughing that their plans had finally succeeded.

“The ship is sailing finally. It’s only been too long in the making.”

~

The sky was dark and filled with stars, bright lights twinkling through the glass roof above your head. The patio door shut behind you quietly, your hand used to keep it from slamming and alerting someone of your arrival. A small chill ran up your spine, the winter air seeping through the glass windows the encased the garden, but it was warmer than you could have ever imagined. Flowers bloomed amongst the greenery, a shimmering blue light in the distance seeping through the leaves of the plants. Your feet moved slowly along the smooth gravel path, hands stuffed in your pockets.

There he sat - alone - in the bubbling hot warmer. Steam billowed in the chilled air, wrapping around his form to make him look mystical. The lights from within the hot tub make the water glow - giving his body a saint-like aura. He wasn’t aware of you standing there staring at him, his eyes staring at the water while his hand threaded through it, waves rippling outwards from the strokes of his long fingers. He looks like a god. He looked handsomely beautiful. He looked amazing. And your heart wouldn’t stop slamming into your chest with nerves, anxiety, unexplained emotion and unreleased, rampaging hormones for the man that you had always liked without realizing it.

His head finally rose when you stepped closer into his line of sight, your voice picking up. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he murmured unsurely. A dead air formed, his tongue passing over his lips in thought. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with the girls.”

“Well, what are you doing here alone?” you asked. He gave no response, making you sigh. “Stiles, don’t ignore me please.”

“I’m not,” he abruptly denied.

“That’s why you are avoiding looking at me?” you pushed. He stayed silent, making you shake your head. You made your way around the hot tub to the steps, feet slipping from your flip flops before taking tentative steps up to the water. The water was warm when you dipped them into the water, bubbles tickling the bottoms as they popped o the surface. Your arms wrapped around yourself, hugging your body tighter to keep arm from the shivers that ran through you. “Do I have to apologize?”

“Why would you apologize for something you didn’t so?” he asked, eyes flickering up to you.

“Because it is my fault,” you told him.

Stiles chuckled, shaking his head. His arms, dripping with water, leaned back against the hot tub, his body sinking a bit into the warmth. His eyes were glued to you at this point, waiting for you to continue. “Pray tell, Y/N. What is your fault?”

You kicked your feet through the water, debating on telling him. But your mouth parted and your words flowed before you could stop them. “Because I didn’t realize how you felt until now.”

His arms dropped into the water, his brows raised in shock and his jaw slack. “W-wha-”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had a crush on me?” you asked. His eyes dropped to the water. “Stiles.”

“What was I supposed to say?” he asked quietly. “I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t want to ruin us.”

“It wouldn’t have ruined us.”

Stiles chuckled, looking up at you. “You say that now. But what would you have said if I came out and said that that I like you, Y/N? What does it mean to you when I say that I like you.”

You paused, giving a cheeky smile. “That I am obviously the most awesome girl in your life and you are glad to have me as your friend?”

Stiles scoffed playfully, splashing water at you before leaning back again. “You’re impossible.”

“I know I am,” you told him. ‘That’s why I never realized how I felt back.”

This caused Stiles’ brow to knit together, his forehead crunching together with a mound of wrinkles that looked adorable on his. He looked like a lost puppy, confused why you wouldn’t give him a treat. “I’m confused,” he admitted under his breath.

Rolling your eyes, you stood from your seat on the edge of the hot tub. Stiles’ honey eyes followed you, growing wider by the second when you stripped the hoodie you had worn over your head. His breathing faltered, caught in his chest at your appearance. The camisole you wore was sheer, almost see through under his piercing gaze. It was also his favorite color - a lovely shade of blue that matched your skin. Your shorts hugged your thighs, leaving your silky legs bare for him to admire. You carefully folded the hoodie, placing it away from the water so it wouldn’t get wet.

He was shocked when you stepped further into the water, submerged to the waist by the heat. The camisole began to stick to your skin, showing patches of skin through the material where the water hit it. But you didn’t stop there. His throat clogged, his Adam’s Apple bobbing, when your legs perched on either side of him, your body straddling his waist. He tried to will himself to stay calm, but the chances that he was growing harder under the weight of your pelvis to his was one hundred percent. Your eyes had a certain gaze that he hadn’t seen before, confidence and arousal swirling in your irises. Dainty hands were placed to his broad shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under the tips of your fingers while holding yourself upright. His arms stayed on the edge of the hot tub, afraid to move.

“What are you doing?” he croaked lowly, words near impossible to hear.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” you told him. “I’m sorry that I never realized before, Sti. I overlooked it until now and I don’t know how I did it. It was so obvious and I wish you had said something before because it wouldn’t have changed who we are It would have made us stronger. Nothing can break us apart and I want to give this a chance if you are willing.”

Stiles’ mouth opened and closed, unable to produce the words he was thinking. “What are you saying?” he eventually uttered.

“I’m saying I like you too, you dork.”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. His face grew red, and it wasn’t from the heat of the water he sat in. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His arms dropped into the water, hands hitting your thighs. His heart was beating out of his chest.

“Your silence is not a good sign, Stilinski.”

He broke from his trance, shaking his head. Your laugh hit his ears, making them redden in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s not every day that you hear something like that.”

“I get that.”

“When did this come up?” he asked, moving his hands up to your hips. “I mean, I’m not complaining but… I’ve pined over you for so long and I thought… I thought I’d never have a chance. I had fallen in love with a girl that would never notice my feelings. I’ve been trying too hard to show you this entire trip but it felt so hopeless. Now, here we are, sitting in a hot tub with you-” he choked a bit on his words, “-straddling my waist, saying that you like me too. I’m so confused.”

“I think I always liked you too,” you told him wholeheartedly. “But I never wanted to admit it. I didn’t think I’d see you as more than Stiles - my best friend for life. But, this entire trip, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. All I could think about was you and I would get flustered because of it. I couldn’t understand why I kept seeing you in this new light, realizing how handsome you are. How attractive you are. I couldn’t stop thinking about how happy you make me. And the girls finally pointed out that I like you as more than a friend. And I feel stupid that I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“So, that’s why you are here now?” he asked, tilting his head.

“That’s why I’m here now,” you confirmed. “I couldn’t sit around and wait knowing that you would be here waiting for me.”

His face lit up. “I-I wasn’t waiting.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, Sti,” you giggled. “But, I came here to tell you that I like you, Stiles Stilinski. As more than a friend. And I’m sorry it took me this long to see that.”

“I like you too,” he spat without hesitation. His hand rose from the water, pushing some hair from your face, fingers sliding down your cheek. Your eyes locked together, staring deep into his golden orbs that screamed the loving emotion he was trying to portray for so long. No more was it hidden behind a wall of fear. His lips curled into a smile, the bottom lip tugged between his teeth nervously. “Can I kiss you finally?”

“You know, it’s more romantic if you just do it.”

Stiles chuckled, tilting his head upwards while pulling you forward. Lips smashed together in a soft connection at first, his lips tender pillows that molded against yours perfectly. They were smooth, the cold not having chapped them like he feared prior to leaving Beacon Hills. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling the sparks flying the second his lips pressed down on yours. Fireworks were flying, popping in your ears in an array of explosions. His thumb ran across your cheek, helping you to relax.

The first kiss was short, almost like he was testing the waters. He broke away for a small burst of air before pulling you back in for a deeper, more intense kiss. Your hands moved around his neck from his shoulders, tugging his closer. Your chest pressed against his, the gap between your bodies nearly nonexistent. His head tilted to the side to give him better access to your mouth, noses not bumping as bad. His plump lips would drag down against yours, enveloping them in his warmth. The kiss seemed to suck he life from the, the puckering of his lips and harsh sucking making them swell and turn beet red.

Your moan was lost when his tongue tapped to your lips, asking for entrance. You had gladly parted them, allowing him to roam your mouth with the wet article without interference. His mouth and tongue were skillful, eliciting a loud moan that was lost to his throat. The tip of his tongue traced the outline of your mouth, along your cheeks as he memorized every inch. He toyed with your tongue, making them playfully circle each other before he continued on his merry way. The intense feeling made your hands curl through his hair, tugging at the chocolate locks shamelessly. His hands returned to your waist, drawing circles through the thin camisole.

The heated make out didn’t stop there. He continued to assault you with multiple open mouth kisses, peppering your forehead, cheek and neck with kisses. A shiver trailed down his bare spine the first time he kissed your neck, a loud moan directed into his ear. He grew harder at the sound, not caring that his erection was pressing up into you. He was too enthralled by the fact that he was finally kissing you. He had his crush in the palm of his hand and he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon. He would cradle this moment - and every moment going forward - not letting you get hurt for as long as he lived.

His lips continued south, kissing along the hem of the camisole. He paused for a second, tilting his head to look up at you. No words were needed. You nodded and he proceeded. The front of the camisole was tugged down, your breasts exposed to the garden air. The chill had made your nipples harden, the lack of bra under your sleepwear only making Stiles happier. His mouth was wet but dry, eyes wide at the beauty of your chest. He leaned forward, tongue darting out to flick at the nipple carefully. He was testing your reaction, unsure how far to go to start.

“More,” you urged with a whine.

Stiles obliged, wrapping his lips around the nipple completely this time. Your moan wasn’t silent. It filled the garden, the feeling of his mouth on your chest unexplainable. He sucked as much skin between his cheeks as he could, tongue playing with the hard peak the entire time. He kissed at your chest without remorse, tugging at the nipple until a loud pop was heard. The kisses on your chest were marvelous, wet and hot on your skin. He loved kissing around your breast, proudly loving your nipple. His wet hand played with the opposite breast, the pad of his thumb circling the nipple, pressing it into your skin. He eventually swapped between your breasts, repeating the actions he had previously done.

You wondered how he was this good when he only had one girlfriend before.

His lips returned to your mouth, fixing your camisole as he did. Not that it helped in the end - the material was wet and clung to your chest, showing the taunt peaks that he made even harder and more boisterous from his tender loving care. He turned to his side as he kissed you, placing you to the seat beside him. Your leg stayed draped around his waist and his hand stayed on your hip, but the angle for the kisses and cuddles made you heat up. The only mistake with the new spot was that you became more aware of his erection, the bulge pressed against your inner thigh.

His breath hitched and the kiss broke when your hand ghosted over the bulge, tugging the string undone in passing. Your hand ended up on his, pushing it down your body towards your throbbing heat. Since the kisses started, your body was aching for more. Your pussy was screaming for attention, trembling with desire. You didn’t know if you were going too fast, but you knew you wanted to be touched by him - and only him.

“Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly, his lips skimming yours as he talked. You nodded, giving him a smile for reassurance. Stiles gave a bright smile in return, returning to kissing you. Long fingers toyed with the front of your shorts before slipping passed the band of them and your panties, connecting with the heated core. They touched your swollen clit first, a wave rushing through you. The closer they inched to your core, the more ready you became.

His middle finger slid inside of you, a prolonged moan leaving your lips. Your arms hugged him close, the finger sliding in and out of you slowly at first. It slowly sped up, curling at the tip for added effect. His trimmed nail scratched at the inner linings of your pussy, the sensitive feeling spiked from the scraping sensation. He was able to reach a depth you weren’t used to, finding a spot that made you quiver with happiness. Your face buried into his neck to keep from moaning too loudly, not wanting to be caught.

By the time he was adding a second finger, your hand was at the band of his swim trunks, tugging the Velcro undone. Your breath hitched at the size of him, his cock fully erect under the tips of your fingers that dipped into his shorts. He was long and girthy - he was frankly rather huge. The twitched against your grip, pulsating under your fingers. Your fingers traced along the throbbing veins, your mouth watering at the feeling. Your hand wrapped around him completely, stroking him as best as you could in his bottoms. Skin was tugged up and over the head before it was released to return to its original position.

Together, you continued to please each other, moaning together. His moans were sexy when they started up after you touched him. There was a gruff husk in the tone, his throat vibrating with the sounds he made. The deep noise reverberated around you, resonating in your ear. It made you grip him harder, jerking him faster just so you could hear it more. His response was to press his thumb to your clit as he pumped his fingers inside of you, urging you to your high.

“You know,” he breathed, fingers halting. Your hand stopped, pulling away from his neck to look at him in confusion. “We shouldn’t do this here.”

“What?”

Stiles smiled, pulling his fingers out of you. He worked your hand from his bottoms, fixing them before standing from the water. You were extremely confused, unsure what he was doing. He grabbed the towel he brought with him, drying off as he stepped out of the water. The man turned, a hand held out for you to help you out, which you willingly took. The man dried you down, tenderly patting the fluffy towel to your limbs. You smiled at him, watching him closely. He helped you pulled the hoodie over your head, his towel wrapped around his neck. Two arms circled your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“How about we head back to the room for the night?”

Your heart pounded, fingers laced with Stiles as he led you back to the room. Your cheeks hurt from the smile that was plastered to your face, holding his hand tightly. The happiness was pouring out of you, not questioning why he stopped the heated session in the hot tub until you got back to the room.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think that you would realize your feelings for your best friend and confess them to him in the same day as getting the best orgasm in your life once you arrived back to your shared room, his fingers resuming what was started before. The two of you fell asleep cuddled together in his bed with large smiles on your faces, left to dream about everything that happened.

~

The following day seemed to be better than ever - the best day in your eighteen years of living.

You had woken up to Stiles’ sleeping face buried in the pillow next to you, mouth slightly parted with soft snores slipping out. His chin was wet with drool. His lashes were splayed across his cheek beautifully. His hair was ruffled and sticking up in different directions against the pillow. He was pleasantly surprised when you awoke him with a kiss, not arguing as he pulled you against him to ignite a hot make out session to start the morning.

No one seemed fazed by your locked hands when you arrived at breakfast. Though unspoken, it went without words that you were an item at this point. It wasn’t how you expected to be called Stiles’ girlfriend, and vice versa for him, but after the heated night you had, it would be odd to think you were something else. Scott just threw his hands into the air, screaming a vehement ‘finally’ that made everyone look at him.

He wasn’t fond of the water you tossed on his face to cool him down.

You spent the morning hours in the main rec room playing games with the pack, Stiles’ arms always finding a way to slither around your waist when you were playing against someone other than him. You weren’t arguing, though it always seemed to cost you the game because you found yourself sinking into his touch, the game of foosball against Scott an afterthought. Kira pulled out a deck of cards, the entire pack settling down to have cocoa as you played intense games of BS and five-way war. The morning was everything you wanted on this trip and more, spiced up by the occasional kiss from your new, unspoken boyfriend.

Stiles successfully got you to ski down the mountain once the afternoon struck, though it took a while since he kept getting distracted whenever he looked at you, his cheeks a bright red and the same monkey hat tugged over his eyes. You were proud of yourself for not crash as you slid across the snow towards the bottom of the mountain where Stiles was awaiting, throwing your arms up in victory. Until you crashed into his body, his broad form cushioning the blow. Your bodies were covered in snow, bodies tangled together, causing you to laugh in unison, a tender kiss shared before the others began making fun of you.

As the sun set, you waddled back to your room with Stiles in tow, snow packed down your pants and shirt from the impromptu snowball fight the true alpha decided was the best way to end your trip - the werewolf stuffing a handful of snow down the back of your jacket before running away from his death wish. You spent nearly an hour rolling around in the snow as the sun disappeared behind the mountain, enjoying the time with your friends. Stiles teased you as you rushed back into the hotel when Finstock commanded it, your legs carrying you towards you room for a hot shower.

“I’m freezing!” you called, Stiles left to shut the door behind you. He was still snickering, locking the door before continuing into the room. The man leaned against the wall near the entrance to the room, golden eyes tearing you apart from behind. His animal-like stare was hungry, admiring you as you shrugged off the jacket, throwing you hat, scarf and gloves onto your bed. He was glad that he had gotten you, though not officially in his head. And after the day, he wanted to change that. He wanted to make you his - in every way possible.

“Stiles?” you asked.

The human male glanced up, meeting your puzzled gaze. You stopped to look at him, noticing that he was still near the door with his eyes on your body. His eyes were swirling with a million emotions, his body unmoving. Wordlessly, he strut forward, tossing off his scarf, hat and gloves on his way. His strong arms wrapped around you, his forehead resting on yours. His breath was hot against your cheeks and lips, the snow melting from the heat your body was no producing.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked abruptly. You blinked at him for a second before a fit of laughter broke free. The man holding you pouted, giving you a sorrowful glance. “What’s with the laughter? I’m being serious here!”

“I know. I don’t mean to laugh,” you managed to tell him through your laughs. “I just figured that after last night, we kind of already were. You’ve been all clingy today and kissy and you still have to ask?”

“I thought it’d be only right to make it official,” he claimed, dimples showing up when he smiled. “I’ve waited for so long for this to happen and I want to do it right. And I want to make you mine, Y/N. You are the one girl I have liked for longer than I could ever imagine and I am here to ask you right here, right now to be my girlfriend.”

“Wow, Stilinski. Who knew you could be so smooth? Where is my klutz of a friend?”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers threaded through his messy locks, nails scratching against his scalp. A happy sigh left his lips, the man obviously enjoying the feeling. “Yes, Mieczyslaw Stiles Stilinski. I will be your girlfriend.”

“Really?” he asked, disbelieving. “You’re sure I haven’t just dreamt all of this?”

“I will walk away right now.”

“No!” he hollered, lifting you of the ground. A sweet squeal left your lips in joy, laughter befalling his ears. The man spun you around with ease, hugging you as close as possible. Your bodies eventually fell to his bed with your boyfriend hovering over you, arms on either side of you. Sparkling orbs met yours, your body melting into a pot of honey he offered with a simple look. His plump, pink lips moved forward, locking to yours in a tender embrace.

They moved against each other in loving grace and extreme haste, speeding up as passion intensified. Open mouth kisses were shared, tongues dancing together between parted lips, hands roaming every inch of the opposite’s body. Lips were swelling from the numerous kisses, Stiles’ lips sucking and tugging joyously at yours. His jacket was shrugged off mid kiss, your fingers softly traveling up and down his arms where countless veins were protruding. It was a turn on you never thought you’d have.

He rolled over so you were straddling him, your arms on either side of his head to support your weight. You were sat up, kiss broken with lips lingering against each other, long enough for him to strip the shirt over your head. Your arms were extended over your head, a smile on your face when he pulled the shirt up, tossing it away. His following immediately after, your bodies falling backwards against the bed.

Your pants were kicked off mid kiss, the only thing separating your bodies being thin pieces of damp underwear - bra and panties for you and the checkered boxers on him. The kisses you shared were heated, your bodies beginning to stick together from sweat that poured out. Your hips rocked instinctively against his, grinding against his pelvis along the defined v-lines that were indented in his skin. Throating groans and breathy moans spilled from his lips when you parted, his hips bucking up to meet yours.

They sped up, bodied rolling aimless around on the bed to alternate who was in control. Not once did he make an attempt to remove the intruding material of your undergarments, opting to suffer with the dry humping that had ensued with the ever-rampant kisses. He was hard, his cock twitching and bulging against his boxers, trying to reach your center. His breathing was unsteady, the warmth of your pussy pressing against his clothed region making it hard to keep calm.

He lost control from the simplest touch. Your kisses were running along his cheek and jaw until you got to his neck. A simple bite and suck mixed with the jerk of your hips into his and he lost everything. His moan was louder, the gruff crackle of his voice becoming music in your ears. His fingers pressed harder into your sides, pushing up into you as hard as he could. His hips sputtered slightly. Honey eyes were sealed tight, his head falling back into the pillows. He relished in the feeling of your hands running along his barren torso, shivering from the touch to his sensitive nipples.

Your body, hovering over his, stopped moving, feeling the discomfort under you. “Stiles,” you started, voice uneasy but playful. “Did you just cum in your boxers?”

“What? No,” he said, drawing out the final word unconvincingly. His eyes cracked open, sighing when he spied the unamused expression from his failed lie. “Fine. Yes, I did. If you dare laugh, I will kick you out of this bed right now.”

Your smirk grew, leaning down to kiss him. “I didn’t know I had that effect on you.”

He sighed into the short kiss, a lazy smile showing up on his face. “You should know you do. It wasn’t what I intended to happen, but it definitely felt good.” The man squirmed following his words before continuing. “Now, this is kind of uncomfortable. I have a cream load in my pants right now and you being on top of me isn’t helping.”

“Well, I guess we should go shower then,” you mused, crawling off of him. Stiles’ forehead crinkled.

“We?”

“I’m a bit cold from all of that snow,” you told him, not glancing back until you reached the door to the bathroom. You cast him a sexy look over your shoulder, flipping your hair so you could see him. “So, are you going to come join me, Stilinski? We should get you washed up.”

You didn’t wait for him to move, but the thump in the bedroom told you that he crashed to the floor in his attempt to follow you. Heavy footsteps thumped across the room, shadowed only by the water flowing in the glass shower. The slam of the door behind you was an indication of his presence, and the warmth of his body pressed to your back confirmed his eagerness. As the bathroom began to fog up, the hot water steaming the enclosed area quickly, you were turned to meet his lips.

His hands roamed your body, skillfully unhooking the bra that was still on your body. It slid across the ground, tossed away carelessly with your panties following. His boxers, wet with his arousal, joined them immediately after, your nude bodies ready for the shower. Stiles broke the kiss, ushering you into the glass shower with a slap to the ass that made you squeal, the man turning to grab two towels before joining.

He didn’t jump straight into anything intimate. The time was taken to wash up, Stiles rubbing shampoo through your hair before himself. He ran the wash cloth along your body carefully, cleaning your skin until it was pristine. He hugged you close, sharing multiple short kisses as a way to warm you up from the cold day in the snow.

Only then did the kisses speed up, his hands began to trace your body. Your hands clawed at his arms and chest, craving more from him as the kisses got deeper - needier. His erection pressed to your thigh, your core aching for even more. Lips traveled along your neck, head tilted to give him access to the region he desired. You were backed into the wall, the cold tile pressed flesh to your shoulder blades, making you tense. Yet, the heat of the water and the warmth of his leanly muscular body seeping into you from the tenderest touches helped you relax, sinking into his hold entirely.

His hips ground against yours, his erect cock trapped between your stomachs. A dribble of precum was seeping from the tip, the wet patch stringing from the dark happy trail of hair that traveled down Stiles’ navel to your stomach, your insides boiling under the smoldering fire that was hormones. The shaft slid between your bodies, twitching every so often as it grew harder. He was ready for more.

Before he could make a move, you had slipped from his grasp, sinking to your knees in front of him. The water pooled around your knees, rippling outwards around your body. Water rained over your form, cascading down your body in pearls of pristine, clear light. Stiles watched you through hazy eyes, your body glistening in the light of the bathroom that glowed above the shower. Your eyes met his, twinkling with unread mischief that matched his name. Yet, he found them beautiful - from the color to the size to the way they made his heart race from a simple glance.

Your hand wrapped around his shaft, a deep breath muffled by the thudding water against the floor. Your eyes closed, lips pressed to the length of his cock, the large appendage hardening and pulsing from contact. A low, breathy moan slid from the man’s lips, eyes fluttering closed from the bliss. He waited for the overwhelming feeling to embrace him like a hug, your lips wrapped around him like he always dreamt of.

The feeling was beyond his belief - better than he ever thought. Your mouth was warm and wet, hollowed for the feeling was tight. You heard his sharp intake of air, feeling his hand weave through your wet locks to keep your hair out of your face as well as having something to hold onto, knowing that he was enjoying it. Your head bobbed along his length, trying not to gag at his large size when he filled your cheeks until you looked like a squirrel. Your hand pumped what couldn’t fit in your mouth, your hand and head moving in sync.

His groans got louder, one veiny hand pressed against the wall to keep him from falling. Your tongue ran along the underside of his shaft, the tip tracing the pulsating vein that protruded from his skin, running along the entire length. You backed away from him slightly, focusing on the tip just as you had the rest of his erection, sucking at it until he was moaning your name. Your tongue lapped at the rough patch that made him quiver, toying with the head like it was a tootsie pop. He was sweet on your tongue, his golden nectar making your taste buds tingle. Your mouth watered, ready to taste every drop of his essence poured into your mouth, sliding down your throat like a waterfall of honey.

He pushed you away, earning him a dazed and confused pout. His hand, tangled in your locks, pushed your head back, a string of saliva draped between swollen lips and the red tip of his cock. He poked straight out towards you, bouncing with never ending twitches, eager for what he had in mind. A hand was extended to you, your fitting in it perfectly. His touch sent sparks through your body, goosebumps popping up along your arms. He helped you stand, your back pressed back to the wall. Your leg was hiked up, his arm under your knee. His lips ghosted against yours, hips bucking forward.

“Please,” he pleaded. “I know we just started dating, but I can’t wait. I love you, Y/N, and I need you. My horny, teenage mind can’t stop thinking about you. I need you. I want you. I want to feel every inch of you. I want to be inside of you. I want to show you how much you mean to me. Please, baby.”

“Stiles, we can’t-”

He backed away with a deep frown. “O-oh. Right! Obviously. I’m not going to push you if you aren’t ready. I completely understand-”

“Stiles!” you called, slapping his chest. He winced playfully, placing a hand to where you hit. “I’m not saying no to sex. I’m not a virgin and a girl has needs to. And you have no idea how much my pussy aches for you. But I’m also not keen on getting pregnant.”

He blinked in confusion before his golden eyes widened, jaw going slack. “Oh,” he mumbled once, the word growing louder the second he uttered, “Oh! Wait! I can fix that!”

He ran from you, the glass door sliding open with a thump against the wall. He didn’t bother shutting it, nor did he mind the trail of water that dripped from his skin as he rushed from the bathroom. His loud curses from the cold air outside the bathroom made you laugh. You could see clothes being thrown around in the main room. You were left to wait for whatever he had.

“Ah ha!” he called, ripping the box of condoms his dad had forced upon him prior to leaving on the trip. The square foil packages piled onto your bed, his hands fumbling to open one as he walked back to the bathroom. He nearly slipped on his own wet path, barely managing to make it back to the shower without crashing to the floor. He was sliding the condom down his length when he stepped in, pinching the end so there was a spot for his sperm to gather when he came again.

You squealed from shock and surprise, Stiles lifting you from the ground. You were pressed into the wall harder than before, legs winding around his waist instinctively. His hands supported you, yours resting on his shoulders. You bit at your lip, his length pressed against your core. Even covered by the rubbed, he was warm.

He glanced at you for silent approval, only moving forward when you nodded at him. He shifted you against him so he could adjust himself at your entrance, sliding into you slowly. It wasn’t the first time you were having sex - a bad one-night stand at one of Lydia’s parties not the best reference when thinking about such an activity - but instantly, he was the best. Stiles filled you to the brim, easing into you to keep from hurting you. The tip rested against your g-spot when he was fully seated between your walls, making it hard to relax with the countless fireworks that were going off. He held you tenderly, allowing you to adjust before beginning to thrust.

Yup. Mark was definitely nothing compared to Stiles.

You moaned his name loudly from the start, Stiles bouncing you slow at first against his hips before speeding up. Crescent shaped nail marks were ebbed into his shoulders, your eyes clenched at the overwhelming sensation. Wet hips clapped together loudly, his slick, covered length sliding in and out of you without remorse. The once slow thrusts didn’t last long, the man slamming into you quickly, reaching deep into your core.

He only stopped when his feet slid under him, nearly dropping you. His thrusts had been too quick for the clumsy man, the water that was gathering around his feet finally too much for him. His head rested on your chest, stilled inside of you. His chest rose and fell, let out a laugh that was contagious. You began to laugh with him, hugging him close. He was pulsing inside you, stretching your walls and strengthening your desire for him to pound you senseless, but not when he was bound to slip.

“Maybe this isn’t the best position,” he uttered, placing you down.

You whimpered lowly when he left you empty, only to be pushed forward - away from the wall. Your hands caught on the glass, breasts pressed to the fogged door. Your mouth parted with a loud moan that added to the fog, Stiles buried inside you once more from behind. Without having to support your weight, he could focus on his actions, his hips crashing against your behind in an array of powerful thrusts.

Your cheeks jiggled, turning red from the constant collision of his body against yours, your pussy tight around him. His cock pistoned in and out of you without remorse, the tip hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. His hand occasionally would slap at your butt, low, dirty words urging you on. You never would have guessed that Stiles liked such rough sex, but you weren’t complaining. He made you feel wonderful.

Your breasts were taut to the glass, your forehead pressed against it as you panted - moaned. The angle made you constrict around him, Stiles able to reach deep into you. His words consisted of one thing: your name. A hand tangled through your hair as he pounded into you from behind, tugging your head backwards. Everything he did was magical and you didn’t want it to stop until you were pouring out around him, clinging to him like your life depended on it.

You were saddened when he sputtered to a stop, choking on the warm, wet air. You had nearly been at your peak when he came to an abrupt halt, cock twitching into your walls with intense vigor. He spilled his seed into the air pocket left in the condom, his orgasm crashing over him without warning. The knot inside of him had coiled and burned in a matter of moments, a prolonged grunt of your name heard.

“Really, Sti?” you asked, glancing back at him over your shoulder. He pulled out, pulling you back against his chest. His hands cupped your breasts, fondling them at you waddled together to the shower knob. You laughed, biting your lip to cover your moan. “Don't try to get out of this! I’m mad at you. You came again and I haven't even finished!”

“I’m sorry, babe,” he hummed. Your face flushed at the new pet name. “But, that’s why we aren’t done yet.”

“Wait, what?”

Stiles discarded the condom before lifting you from the ground, carrying you to the room - still wet. You laughed at him, squeaking when you were thrown onto the bed. You giggled at the pile of condoms on your bed across the way, the man you were now dating grabbing a second packet to slide down his length just as before.

Instead of crawling on top of you, he tackled you from the side, rolling your bodies so you were on top. Your hips ground together, a few heated kisses shared before you found yourself sliding down his length. Propped up on the balls of your feet, hands on his chest for support, you bounced against him. Your head was thrown back, letting yourself go to enjoy the ecstasy of his cock inside of you. His hands were on your waist to help guide your motions, bucking his hips up to meet your pace.

You were a moaning mess. Your nails clawed on his toned chest, playing slightly with the hairs between his pecs. Your hips were clapping together noisily, his cock digging deep inside you every time you crash down against him. Stiles didn’t know where to keep his eyes - they darted between your face, watching you moan his name loudly with your eyes clenched shut, and his cock sliding in and out of you quickly, the condom soaked with your juices. He loved the way your face contorted with pleasure, but he was aroused by the sight of his cock disappearing into your tight pussy.

“Fuck,” he groaned, shifting against the bed. Your sloppy bounces made his gaze hazy, his tongue passing over his lips sexily. “You’re so fucking hot. You’re so fucking tight. God, where have you been all my life? Why did I wait this long to tell you how I felt? This is amazing, Y/N.” His eyes glued to your breasts bouncing up and down with every collision of your hips, the man grunting. “God, I love your tits. I want to suck on them while you cum. And I love your tight, little pussy. You were made for me, baby. Only for me.”

“Only you, Stiles,” you repeated breathlessly, unable to focus. You were seeing stars and his dirty talk was only making it worse. You had to reply on his thrusts up into you to finally pant out at him, nearing your peak. “I’m cumming, Stiles. I’m cumming.”

He sped up, urging you with his husky voice to cum. He pushed to meet your high with his own, straining to orgasm as well. He knew he would regret it later when his cock ached and his legs were sore from tensing, but the idea of spilling his load into another condom at the same time you coated it with your juices, walls closing around him in a hug, was worth the pain.

With a loud moan, you were undone, clenching around his cock as you spilled everything you had. The wet warmth you emitted was more than enough to break him for a third time, the man filling the condom with shot after shot of his thick, white load. He closed his eyes, relishing in your moans, imagining that he was filling your pussy with his cum. He wanted to see your folds dripping with the white liquid, your fingers smoothing over it sexily to show him what he did, just like he saw in his porns. But he had to settle with the air pocket filled with his sweet nectar, strings of cum milked by your tight core.

You collapsed to his chest, Stiles placing your bare, wet body to the bed, the sheets clung to him as he rolled out of the bed, tossing the used condom while fetching the towels. He dried you off - himself included - crawling into the bed next to you. You were weary from your activities, more than willing to cuddle into Stiles’ side after the send sunk from his weight. His lips pressed to your forehead, kissing it lovingly.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I know it’s too soon, but I do.”

“I love you too,” you yawned at him. You knew he was smiling. You could feel it. It made you smile too. Your arms hugged him close, the man pulling the blankets around your bodies. “Thank you for the best night ever.”

“Thank you for the best trip ever.”

“Thank you for being the best man ever.”

Stiles chuckled. “Thank you for everything.”

It was silent for a moment.

“I can’t beat that. Asshole.”

“Ha!”

A fit of laughter filled the room, like nothing had changed.

You were always meant to be with this man.

~

“Did you guys have a good night?” Scott teased as you piled onto the bus the following morning. You cast him a glare, the morning not agreeing with you. The alpha werewolf raised his hands innocently, plopping into his seat. “Was just a question.”

“Be nice,” Stiles laughed, pushing you into the seat by the window. He draped your Harry Potter fleece blanket that was stowed in your bag for emergencies over your lap before taking his seat, his fingers lacing with yours. “You know YN isn’t a morning person when she hasn’t had her coffee.”

“It’s not my fault that their coffee machine broke today of all days.”

“Scott McCall, I swear I will punch you in the fucking nuts if you don’t shut up,” you growled. “See if you have little werewolf babies when I’m done with you.”

Scott sunk into his seat silently, Stiles laughing at your threat. The bus bumped as it began to travel down the road, your head resting on the window. Stiles adjusted the blanket over both of your laps, watching you with a small smile.

“I can’t sleep knowing you are watching me.”

“I can’t help it,” he chuckled, leaning over to kiss your cheek. You turned to look at him, lips upturning slightly. “You’re too cute.”

“I’m also very tired and irritable.”

Stiles hummed in response before leaning over, a sly smirk on his lips. “I can help with the irritability,” he whispered into your ear.

“What?

He gestured to stay silent, his hand slithering under the blanket. You sent him a look, but he grinned. “We’re in for a long ride, baby. So, better get comfortable.”

His fingers dipped into your jeans and panties, your legs parting to feel his fingers at you core. You adjusted your position to lean on his shoulder, trying to get closer to him. Two slender digits slid into your folds, pumping in and out of you mercilessly. You bit your lip to keep quietly, returning his gesture by palming his groin through his pants.

He was right. It would be a very long drive when he was driving you crazy with his fingers burrowed inside you, giving you multiple orgasms that made sitting in your seat rather uncomfortable. But the feeling of his fingers finding the spots that made you quake, drawing shapes and the letters of his name to your clit, was worth the agony of the public pleasing. He would get it later when you could be alone, but for now, you would enjoy what he had to offer on the lengthy drive home.

Your mood was considerably brightened when you arrived back in Beacon Hills. There was a pep in your step that Scott didn’t dare question, leading Kira towards his mom’s car. The multiple orgasms you were given had done wonders to your mood and you were excited to be home. Stiles was grabbing your bags as you rushed to the sheriff, wrapping your second dad in a hug.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” he said, returning your hug with his own. Stiles dramatically threw his arms in the air when he joined you both, the bags at his side. “Did you guys have fun?”

You backed away from Noah’s hug, sharing a glance with Stiles. Your smiles grew, knowing what had happened between you both the entire trip - notably the bus ride home at the moment. His hand reached out for yours, giving it a tender, reassuring squeeze.

“You have no idea,” you both spoke in unison.

“Well, let’s head home then. We can order some pizza and wings for an early dinner and watch a movie,” Noah claimed.

“Sounds great!” you cheered. “I’ll get the bags put away.”

You trudged off with the bags, ready to hassle stuffing them into the police cruiser trunk, out of range from the two Stilinski men. Noah turned to his son, an eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk.

“What?’ Stiles asked.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that little hand hold just now,” he jabbed at his son. Stiles’ face turned a bright red. “Glad to know that the condoms came in handy then.”

“Dad!”

“Am I wrong?” Noah pushed.

“Wha- I mean no! But still!” Stiles yelped, flustered to the brim.

“Calm down, Stiles,” Noah laughed. “I’m happy for you. It’s about time you got the girl of your dreams. And I know that she will make you happy. That’s all I ever want for you - your happiness.”

Stiles smiled softly, hugging his dad. “Thanks, dad.”

Noah hugged the young man back tightly, the rare family moment something he would cherish forever.

“But seriously. I’m not ready to be a grandpa.”

“Dad!”

“No need to worry, Papa Stilinski,” you broke in, causing stiles to jump a mile from his dad. You grinned at the men, hands behind your back to feign innocence. “If he didn’t have any on him, I did. My mom always has me carry some just in case. I am always prepared, just in case.”

You turned without another words, climbing into the back of the police car. Stiles was speechless, gaping at you the entire time. His face and neck were red, his jaw was slack and his heart was hammering. But he oddly found it attractive what just happened and he was left praying that he wouldn’t have a tent in his jeans from what he just heard.

“I like her,” Noah spoke up, glancing at his son. “She’s a keeper.”

Stiles blushed brighter, but smiled nonetheless. “I know she is,” Stiles uttered to his dad. He couldn’t be happier with how things turned out. He had finally gotten the girl. “I’m glad I went on this trip, dad.”

Noah smiled, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “I’m glad. Make sure to take care of her.”

“I will.”

“Let’s go, guys!” you called through a crack in the door. “I’m starving!”

The Stilinski duo laughed, running towards the car where you awaited. Stiles climbed into the back next to you, hugging you to his side. His dad was in the driver’s seat, glancing at the young couple in the back seat. Noah couldn’t be more proud of this outcome; you both were happy, just as it was always meant to be.

And Stiles?

He would never forget his senior year ski trip.

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[laudanine]

My great grandmother's basement was full of boxes. Not disorganized, mind you, very orderly. Labeled. She would store things, but she didn't want to hoard them: anything of value should be kept and kept safe. If you weren't willing to respect a thing enough to take care of it, than why keep it? (Waste was the only original sin in her house: Grams had buried her sister, her daughter, raised two generations of children, survived the Dust Bowl, and moved across the country. We did not waste things.

There were matched sets of glasses so thin they weighed almost nothing, that she'd gotten free-with-a-fill-up at a gas station. She had wrapped them carefully in old newspaper so that when each of "the boys" (her grandchildren) or "the kids" (assorted great grandchildren) finally moved out she was able to give them a set for their first home.

Lime green cut-glass sundae sets came with four mismatched long spoons taped together in a bundle.

A set of enameled cast iron pots in brown and orange, with wooden grips on the handles so you wouldn't burn yourself. The enamel had been scrapped off the bottom, and when we found them my uncle poked his finger into the pan, measured the worn surface with his nail against his finger, and showed me the quarter of an inch length. "That's how much enamel I've eaten in a lifetime!" Dad laughed.

At four I was given a box of costume jewelry, and black rayon clutch-stlye purses, and near-empty perfume bottles smaller than my thumb with plastic lids, and a bottle of coral nail polish. The nail polish turned my fingernails yellow for two weeks, and no matter how long I soaked them the astringent floral smell never left the perfume bottles. My aunt gave me an old hat box that was almost two feet wide and nearly perfectly round except for the hinge, and it became my costume box. A few years later Grams found a hand-sewn dress, floral, layered, a d complete with a bonnet. I wore holes in that dress playing Pioneer.

We found a box of hand sewn quilts she hadn't yet finished, each one a constellation of fabric scraps that my aunts and uncles could point to and say "That was my Sunday dress, which she sewed," and "Those were my favorite pajamas." The batting for each quilt was a pair of scratchy electric blankets sewn together, the wire cables pulled out carefully after the electronics had blown. I think she sourced blankets from the whole town: any time something broke she could take it and remake it, only better.

When I was fifteen I stopped being embarrassed that my family was poor: I was sent to teenage sleepovers with a pillow and thick handmade quilts, and it turns out that you can share a quilt better than a sleeping bag anyway.

There was a box labeled "Joy," her daughter's name. My aunt said that she and Grams had gone through it when she moved out, and my aunt had taken a painted hand towel. The box was full of craft projects, fabric paint because apparently my grandmother liked to paint little seahorses and flowers onto tablecloths and placemats. A rubber stamp kit with her name spelled out, and the words "from the library of," just above it. The stamp was glued together, the little movable rubber letter had been immobilized for decades, and the rubber was cracking with age.

When Grams died we found a careful stack of CRT monitors in the downstairs closet. This was back when those were worth a little money, not much, and they had the name of one of my uncles taped to the shelf above them. He was a chemist, she must have figured he'd know what to do with them.

Each of the grandkids went into the sciences, and each had an additional science-based hobby. My oldest uncle was a chemist and liked, well, actually chemistry. Jim is a nerd. His younger brother was a chemist as well, but one with a half dozen telescopes. My Aunt went into conservation, and when she visited would roll me out of bed before dawn to go birdwatching. My father was a geologist with a porch covered in little potted plants, crossbred apples and grapefruit trees. Grams was why.

The "big house" was honestly too big at three stories. There were four bedrooms and a bathroom on the main floor, then two more bedrooms and a bathroom above. The upstairs rooms were a little bigger, with slanted ceilings because of the roof-line. The basement had a spare "guest" bedroom, bathroom, a shop with a wooden board that marked the heights of more than my father and his siblings. There was a screened in porch off the basement, where the kids would sleep in the summer when it was too hot.

My dad said the first time he had seen the Wizard of Oz when he was 13 it had been a rerun on the TV and they'd all laughed at the "big reveal" moment in Oz because the TV was, of course, black and white. Dad said when he was 14 and Gramps died he heard the EMTs trying to restart his heart, and it sounded like someone cutting up celery.

A few months after I moved out from my parents house, went to a new city to Community College with no car or money and a live-in boyfriend, my Aunt found a box she'd kept for me. Inside were cups and placemats with hand-painted flowers, a four-piece matched set. A tablecloth with a floral fabric sewn on the hem, unfitted sheets pieced together from bolts of fabric which had been not-quite-large-enough to cover a bed on their own. On each was a tag written in shakey cursive was written my full name, middle and all.

[disasterdeacy]

Lavender Knots

A/N: somehow managed to get this up 4 hours before I said that I would! I’m gonna keep this AN short, but I do want to tell everyone that your recent love and support and messages have meant the world to me, and interacting with y’all has made me smile SO DAMN MUCH! Ilysm <3 Pairing: Present Day!Brian May x Young Reader Word Count: 17.7k (Its 40 pages on word lol how do you write small things?) Summary: The media is cruel, and while Y/N can deal with the pressures and nasty words, Brian doesn’t want her to have to... so, he decides to try and help her, by breaking up with her.  Warnings: A N G S T (soz), Fluff (i’m not a sadist), Smut (oh boy its nasty), Age Gap, mentions of mortality, mentions of suicidal thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it unless you’re tryna get Bri to give you a baby, in which case, you do you sis), Major FDA Violations.

Throwing down the copy of the daily mail onto your office desk with a huff, you slump in your seat, groaning and picking up your phone to see 2 text messages from Brian. What usually would’ve made your face light up with a smile makes you frown. Since the two of you had started dating 5 months previous, Brian had completely changed your life for the better. You’d practically moved in together after 2 months, not wanting to be apart for a single moment of the time that you had together. Your family and friends had accepted the relationship with mild confusion, but once they saw how much you smiled when Brian was beside you, they understood exactly how you both felt about one another and never said an ill word about the relationship. Surprisingly, Brian’s kids had been very supportive as well, they had been slightly off putting at first, but after an emergency grandkid sleepover, the 3 May children decided you were as incredible a person their father could find, welcoming into the May family with open arms. The media however... had been less than friendly. Which is why today’s Daily Mail article wasn’t exactly a surprise, yet still managed to burn a bit. No woman wants to be called, in not so harsh words, a gold digging whore, for holding her boyfriend’s hand. And based on the text messages that Brian had sent, he wasn’t taking it too well, asking if you would come to his place immediately after work. A nervous pit formed in your stomach upon receiving the message, and stayed there the remainder of the day until you arrived back at his home around 5.

“Bri? Love...” You sit your bag down, wringing your hands as you walk along the foyer, confusion etched on your face; usually Brian was waiting for you at the door.

 “In here, Y/N...” He calls from the living room. He was pacing back and forth by the fireplace for what seemed like hours now, feeling sick to his stomach. He’d been thinking all day after seeing the article—articleS. They were never ending it seemed. He’d tried to ignore them at first but.... they were starting to make sense. Who was he to hold you back the way he was? To tie you down in the worst way? He was old, ancient, dated; he couldn’t give you children, give you lifelong support and stability, couldn’t provide for you. Yes, that last thought alone was proof of how old he was, but... still. Even if you could provide for yourself financially (he had no doubts about that)—a relationship was supposed to be a partnership. Was supposed to be about helping and supporting and fulfilling one another. Any day now could be his last. Perhaps that was being a bit dramatic, but in all honesty? It wasn’t too far from the truth. How long did he have left before he lost mobility, lost his mental state, lost HIMSELF?

And you’d be stuck with him. No. No, he wouldn’t do that to you. He couldn’t. The thought was unbearable. Smiling a little when you hear his voice coming from the living room, you quickly head in there as soon as you’ve taken your shoes off. “There you are, I was beginning to think you’d ran off.”

Trekking over to him, you move to wrap your arms around him like you did every single day, only to have him flinch away and turn towards the fire, his hand on his chin, eyes glassy with the tell tell sign of unshed tears. The action sends your  stomach plummeting into your  knees, he’d never been so cold or distant, and every insecurity that you’d buried deep for so long came rushing to the surface.

“B-Bri, what’s wrong?” Your voice sounds pathetic, small, weak, and the complete opposite of your normally cheery and boisterous tone. You reach out for him unconsciously, something you were beginning to do a lot of lately, before realizing what you were doing and holding your arm firm to your side, a cold chill running up your spine despite the heat from the fire. “Please, I-I just.. you’re scaring me...”

He swallows hard, closing his eyes a little, but regretting the movement when tears spill down his cheeks. He doesn’t try to wipe them away—the least he can give you right now are his true emotions

“Y/N, I think... I think maybe we should—should take a step back. From things.”

God, he was pathetic. He couldn’t even say it. Couldn’t even give it to you straight. He loved you so much—this was the last thing he wanted! But he wasn’t good for you. That old cliché “if you love something, let it go?”. He never thought it was true. But... maybe in this situation, it was… In your relatively short life, you’d never had to experience something that had the potential to break your heart, never been subjected to a time when you could physically feel your insides disintegrating, so you didn’t know how it felt.. not until Brian’s words sunk in.

“W-what do you mean take a s-step back.. Bri..” Your hands were shaking, hell your whole body was shaking, you knew what he meant, you knew what he was saying, you just…didn’t want to believe it.

“Y-you’re not... Brian, you can’t do this…” Your voice is heavy and choked with tears, every feeling you’d been subjected to over the past 5 months was crashing through you like a goddamn cannonball, and it wasn’t a good feeling. Everything had been for nothing..

“D-do you j-just not love me? Is that it? Did y-you... was all of this a lie” You can’t even make it to the couch to sit down, collapsing onto the floor as the weight of the situation takes hold.

Brian is  shaking himself. He’s scared to touch you—scared of how you’ll react, of how HE’LL react. So he slowly sinks down to the floor next to you, sitting there, utterly defeated.

“I do love you. I love you more than anything else in my life,” His breath hitches; breaks. He tries to keep speaking.

“I love you more than anyone I’ve ever—" More tears fall, and he stares at his trembling hands.

“I’m no good for you, Y/N. Who are we—who are we kidding? You need someone else. You need things I can’t g-give you. You’re going to be 30, taking care of your boyfriend who can’t walk, can’t think for himself—will I even live to see you reach 40? Do you want to be a 40 year old woman tied down to a 91 year old?? How is that... how is this...”

His voice cuts out, and when he speaks again, it’s more than obvious how much pain he’s in.

“How could I do that to you? How could I let myself just... burden you?”

You can’t even look at him, hurt, betrayal, anger, sadness, goddamn near every emotion is washing through you now, taking your heart and smashing it against a rock. I want to be rational, to talk this out with him, to be an adult… It was obvious that he didn’t want this, that his heart was breaking just as much, if not more, that your’s…but you were just so goddamn HURT.

“Y-you said you w-would never hurt me Brian, you PROMISED that you w-would never I do a-anything to make me cry, a—" The dam breaks and you’re sobbing, hands moving to cover your face as you draw your knees closer to your chest, just trying to hide yourself away from the world, from your own embarrassment.

“I love you Brian, only I g-get to decide what’s g-good for me! I-I can’t believe you’d do this to me... a-after everything...” You feel horrible, more than horrible, because you know he means well, deep down you know that... but you can’t help it. You’re pissed, you’re hurt, and you’re not looking to spare any feelings, no matter how much you love and care for Brian.

“Fuck you Brian.. goddamnit, I gave you everything I had, and you j-just... I hate you..”

Its immature, not poetic, and certainly not something you’d ever thought you would say to him, but it’s what you were feeling, and those feelings were valid. Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re standing up on shaky legs, basically running to the door, somehow having enough of a mind to grab your purse before walking right back out into the cold London air, your tears nearly freezing against your cheeks.

Brian flinches at your words, a small sob bursting from his chest. He just sits there; why should he stop you? You hated him. You HATED him. The words kept echoing through his mind. He’d been right—he was bad for you. This proved it. He hurt everyone he ever loved. Every time he tried to do the right thing.... He’s suddenly overcome with a wave of nausea, and he fumbles for the wastebin that was luckily over to the side of the wall. As soon as he gets it in his hands, he’s throwing up into it, his stomach emptying itself. He just feels completely numb. He knows he’s still crying but he can barely feel it; can honestly barely feel anything. Not the heat of the fire, not the hard ground below him hurting his legs. All there is in his head is your words. He can’t even fucking move.

You don’t even know how long you’ve walked for, tears streaming down your cheeks. You were hurt, betrayed, gutted, and immensely guilty at what you had said to Brian. He had been through so much in his life, had lost so many people, he didn’t deserve to be told that someone hated him.. he didn’t deserve that from you, not even when he’d hurt you so badly… You knew why he had said what he did, why he wanted to end your relationship, and if you had just stayed and talked it out with him rationally, like an adult, the two of you would’ve been eating dinner together now. But instead, you’re walking up the stairs to Roger’s house, surprise etched onto your face at the fact that your feet had led you to Brian’s best friend’s door. The two of you had developed an incredible relationship over the span of you and Bri’s, and you knew that you could come to him if anything went wrong, but.. you still felt bad for doing this. When you buzz the gate, he’s outside within 30 seconds, noticing your distraught appearance and quickly ushered you inside, holding you close as he can while you cry. He asks no questions, just comforts you with his embrace before settling you into a guest room.

Brian sits on the ground for a long time—until the fire dies down at least. His phone rings several times, and he can see that it’s Roger, but he doesn’t answer. He’s literally just staring off into space. He feels pathetic and shitty and horrible—but he’s not thinking that because he feels that way. He’s thinking it in the sense of being a horrible person. He knows he should get up and brush his teeth and shower and maybe eat something, but it’s like he can’t. He hasn’t felt like this in... well, he knows when. But thinking about that makes everything worse. The thought crosses his mind that he has nothing to live for anymore, but his logical brain knows that’s not true. That it’s just the depression talking. That he still has his kids. His grandkids. Roger. Unless they all take your side. He wouldn’t blame them if they did.

There had never been a moment in your life where you’d cried yourself to sleep as fast as you did that night. As soon as your head had hit the pillow, the floodgates opened again and every horrible emotion you’d felt that day came rushing right back. You were nauseous, throwing up into the toilet of the en-suite bathroom three times before you managed to calm down. You can hear Roger downstairs, and for some reason just knowing that you weren’t alone was comfort enough. You somehow managed to crawl back into bed despite the debilitating pains in your stomach, head, and chest. This was never a situation you’d thought you’d find yourself in, not with Brian, you’d been so strong and sure in the relationship. Sure, you had only been dating for 5 months, it felt like you’d known him your whole life.. you had been waiting for a proposal any day now…but now.. now it was just over. By some miracle, you manage to fall asleep that night without any nightmares, because for once, your reality was scarier than anything your mind could dream up.

When Brian finally hauls himself up off the floor, his joints creak and bones ache. He gets rid of the mess in the wastebin, and heads upstairs to his bedroom. He showers, doing his best not to eye the razor sitting inconspicuously in the corner. He needed to shave, but didn’t want to chance anything. He wouldn’t backslide; not that far. Still, he doesn’t allow himself to eat after his shower is done. It’s some level of self punishment he’ll allow, even if he shouldn’t. His phone is still ringing off the hook so he finally answers. It’s not very polite, his telling Roger to fuck right off and stop calling him. He knows he sounds absolutely horrible, but... that’s who he was, wasn’t he? A horrible person, who didn’t deserve you in the first place, and definitely doesn’t now.

The first thing that registers when you wake up is that it’s still dark out, and your head is pounding worse than any hangover has ever caused, probably because you’d cried yourself into dehydration. Checking your phone, you’re a little shocked to see that it’s 4am, and that you had about 400 missed calls and texts from Louisa. The sight makes your  heart shatter even more, knowing that you and her father were over... Sighing, you sit up in bed, smiling a little at the Panadol and water that Roger had left by your bed before throwing it back and getting out of bed. Your legs are wobbly, but you needed to do something. You were stronger than this, you had to be the strong one in the relationship relationship, you always had been.. and when you read the texts from Louisa, that Roger had called her, that Brian wasn’t answering any of her phone calls or the door to their house, a sinking pit forms in your stomach, one that you’d only felt the time you’d had to pull your best friend out of the bathtub.. Quickly opening your Uber app, you grab my things and head downstairs, shooting a text to Roger thanking him for everything before you walk out the door, locking it behind you. You hoped that he was strong enough not to do what you were fearing, and you desperately hoped to god that the Uber driver didn’t mind breaking a few laws.

Brian is still laying curled up in bed even after he wakes up, the drapes still closed, everything dark. His stomach was screaming at him to eat something, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to if he tried. He just kept thinking about everything—your words, your crying, the look on your face. You’d been so... angry. God, it made his stomach curdle again just thinking about it. He’d left his phone unplugged, and all the ringing and messages had eventually caused it to die.

 Thankfully Roger’s London home wasn’t too far from Bri’s, and the Uber driver could obviously tell that you were distressed, and kindly stepped on it. Once you were at the front door, after a quick thank you, you shakily pull the keys from your bag, unlocking the door before going to turn off the alarm, only to realize it’d not been turned on. Furrowing your brows, you sit everything down on the dining room table before moving around the first level of the house, searching in vain to find Brian, and with every room you exited with no sign of him, the pit in your stomach grew. You don’t even know how you’d managed to climb the stairs with your legs shaking the way they were, but once you reach the upper landing, you take a deep shuddering breath and head towards Brian’s room, pausing outside the door, just trying to prepare yourself for what you might find. However, what you find is better than the alternative, but still breaks your heart; well, the shards that were left of your heart. Brian was lying still on your side of the bed, curled around your pillow, his body shaking with sobs you weren’t even sure he knew were happening.

“B-Bri.. love…” Your voice is soft, you don’t want to scare him as you tentatively approach the bed.

He barely registers your voice; it literally doesn’t even compute in his brain. It’s not until he sees you that he blinks up at you, frowning, trying to process what he’s seeing. He feels light headed honestly. He was probably dehydrated from crying and puking, and weak from having not eaten.

“I—Y/N? What’re y’doing here?” His words are literally slurred, and he’s embarrassed by how rough he must look.

You can feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to cloud your vision as you look down at Brian. He had obviously taken a shower, which was good, but he was as pale as a ghost, shaking all over, and based on the way his body was curled up against your pillow, he was just as upset and distraught as you were, probably more. Sighing, you drop to your knees beside him, brushing a shaking hand through his hair before resting it on his cheek, swallowing hard, not wanting to scare him or give him any other reason to feel shitty. “I-I couldn’t just leave you like that Bri, I was horrible to you, said things in anger that I never should’ve said... that I never meant..” Your voice cracks a little, worry and pain working it’s way back inside of your chest.

“I should’ve been m-more mature, not walked out like that.. we needed to sit down and talk this out, and instead I-I just blew up and hurt you so much…” Leaning down and place a kiss to his cheek, your tears start to fall.

“I don’t even know how to begin going and asking for your forgiveness.”

He shakes his head weakly, lightheaded as he does so. He’s shivering, freezing cold even under his thick duvet. “I d-deserve it. I deserve for you to h-hate me. I hurt you—m’not good for you, I...” He hitches out a breath, though it’s more like a sob. He curls further in on himself, party hoping you’re just his imagination; that maybe you actually do love him after all. That you can convince him that none of it matters except their love for one another.

“Oh Bri, look at me honey, please…” He doesn’t, only shoves his face further into the pillow, body shaking with sobs, the sound making your own tears fall heavily, clouding your vision.

“I love you Brian, I don’t hate you, I n-never could.. I was angry, and hurt, but I don’t hate you…” He only cries harder, so you quickly crawl into bed behind him, wrapping your arms tight around his body, pulling him as close to you as you possibly could, just wanting to comfort him.

“You don’t deserve for me to hate you, you don’t deserve for anyone to hate you honey, I love you so much, and I’m so so sorry I acted like that…” Your stomach was hurting something fierce, like 10,000,000 tiny knives of regret were stabbing you over and over.

He turns and just clings to you, sobbing into your neck, fear and anxiety and worthlessness all mixing together inside of him. He hates himself for hurting you, for clinging to you, for being so goddamn pathetic. But he’s crying so hard he can’t breathe, and he doesn’t deserve your arms around him but he somehow has them.

“I- l-love y-you” It is all he manages to rasp out between sobs, his hands clutching your back so hard he is sure bruises will form… another reason for him to hate himself.

You breathe a small sigh of relief, squeezing him tighter as you sit up against the headboard so he can breathe better, your lips pressed firmly into his hair, your hands brushing up and down his naked back.

“Shhh, it’s okay Brian, I’ve got you honey, you’re okay.” Your tears are still falling, being absorbed by his curls.

“I need you to breathe for me honey, in and out, in and out.. cmon Bri, I don’t want you passing out, it’s okay…” You start to rock him back and forth as you talk softly to him, just wanting him to calm down enough to where you knew he wouldn’t have a panic attack.

“I-I-Im s-s-so-sorr-y.” He is shivering, trying to following your breathing techniques, trying to get ahold of himself. Jesus, he was so pathetic. “I l-l-love y—" He can’t finish it, his chest clenching painfully, which scares him. He couldn’t have a heart attack now; it was the absolute worst time. So he starts frantically trying to do the breathing exercises, vision still blurry with tears.

Noticing his panicked expression, the way he’s clutching his chest, you know he was already too far gone to avoid the panic attack. “C’mon Bri, let’s get you in the shower.” The shower was the only thing that you’d found worked on him, would help him calm down.. a nice warm shower. Somehow you manage to get him out of the bed, his arms still tight like a vice around you as you try your best to get him into the walk in shower, turning it on as fast as you can, not even caring that you were fully dressed and he was naked still, more than likely from his earlier shower. “Come here love, breathe baby, look at me and breathe, you’re gonna be okay, I’m not going anywhere.. I love you.” You sit down beside him, taking his cheeks between your hands, eyes level and staring hard into his, breathing in and out to show him how to do it

He just feels like he’s spiraling. Like he can’t get anything back under control. He’s fucking terrified; he’s SURE that he’s dying. That this is it, it’s a heart attack, and he’ll be dead on the floor soon, and you’d be happy about it. And yet, the more you encourage the special breathing, the more he does it, until finally, his brain has come back down to his current state: sitting down under the hot spray of the shower, doing purposeful, structured breathing. He still feels numb, but it’s not.... everything, like it had been

“There we go honey, good job...”

You hold him close, pressing a series of kisses to his temple, his cheeks, his forehead, just trying to ground him in any way you can. His arms are still wrapped tightly around you, holding you like a vice.. you don’t even think he truly realizes he’s doing it.

“I love you so much Brian... I know I sound like a broken record, but I’m so fucking sorry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to help you see how much I love you, how much you mean to me…” Your voice cracks, emotions seeping out despite how hard you were trying to push them back to focus on Brian. “Please believe me Bri, I’m so so sorry, and I love you more than anything...”

“I love you too. I love you, I love you, please don’t h-hate me, please. I know I d-deserve it, but I—I love you so much I only want what’s b-best for you.” He presses his face into your neck, kind of choking a bit on all the water streaming down onto y’all, but he doesn’t care

You turn a little to maneuver it to where the water is hitting your backs, your arms still tightly wrapped around him, head resting on his

“Shh, no you don’t Brian, you don’t deserve me to hate you, and I don’t, I could never.” You start rocking him back and forth like a child in need of reassurance and comfort, which was basically what he was now, desperate for care.

“I know you only said those things because you wanted what was best for me, but you’re what’s best for me Brian.. I was only away from you for 11 hours and I felt like a piece of my soul had been cut loose, I can’t lose you..” You let out a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. “ H-How can I be what’s b-best for you when I m-make you feel like this!? How can I—" He swallows hard, trying to chill out, feeling humiliated that you’ve seen him like this, but knowing deep down this is what a relationship was supposed to entail; being vulnerable. If you couldn’t see him like this, nobody could. That didn’t mean he felt necessarily good about it, that the thoughts in his brain didn’t try to skew every little ounce of happiness he felt.

“How c-can I be best f-for you when I can’t even b-BE there for you?” His voice is weak and defeated, his true feelings finally coming to the surface after hours of trying to suppress them. Brian’s sobs weren’t as loud anymore, but his voice was still shaky and hitched, and it cut you like a knife to hear his words.

“Bri.. love, yes you made me feel bad, but that’s one time in a whole cornucopia of times you’ve made me feel so much better…” Reaching up, you cup his face in your hands, making him look into your eyes.

“Just because you’ve hurt me once doesn’t mean you meant to, or will do it again.. you meant well Brian, I know that.. I know that you love me and you only wants what’s best...” You try to steady your voice and keep calm, but you can’t help but sniffle at his last words, the weight of them pressing down on your very soul.

“You ARE there for me Bri, you’ve been here for me since the beginning, and I-I love you! I love you so much, please believe me…”

Tears are still falling from his red rimmed hazel eyes, though he’s not sobbing anymore.

“Y/N it’s not... it’s not about now.” He closes his eyes; he can’t look at you, too ashamed and guilty to see the tears and pain behind your eyes. “It’s about later.” He sighs. “I’m 72, Y/N. 72.”

A cold shiver runs up your spine at the implications of his words, tears springing to your eyes as well as you try to push back the thoughts you’d fought for so long.

“I-I know that Brian, I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you...” You grasp his hand, the action shaky and unsure, your poor heart aching.

“I know we won’t have forever together, t-that I m-might only get 20 years tops with you, b-but I don’t care Bri, I would rather spend 20 minutes with you than 50 years with someone else.” The sob you’d been trying to choke back finally manages to release itself, and you have to duck your head to keep him from worrying. He already had enough to worry about without you blubbering.

“I-I love you, I love you more t-than I’ll ever be able to love anyone else, a-and I-I just, I want to spend every single m-moment we have together loving y-you.”

The older man is  quiet, listening to you. He doesn’t know what to think; what to believe. He knows his own brain—his own thoughts—are intruders. But it makes everything so much harder. He just wraps his arms around you tightly, eyes clenched shut “I’m s-sorry. You deserve better.”

His voice is quiet, hopeless. He just... doesn’t know what to do. He wants you, but feels selfish for doing so. Doesn’t want to push you away, but isn’t that the responsible thing? Or is his mind just tricking him into thinking that?

You just sob harder when he pulls you close, resting his head on yours as you bury your face into his chest. You’re clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you connected to gravity, because in a way he is. The two of you stay like that for a while, you sobbing, him holding onto you for dear life, but after god knows how long the water starts to run cold. Sniffling, you reluctantly pull away from Brian, standing on wobbly legs to turn the water off, clothes absolutely saturated.

“W-well, guess I don’t have to worry about washing these later.”

You try to make a joke, chuckling lightly. Brian just stares at the tiled floor of the large shower, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. Sighing, you crouch down beside him, taking his hand in yours. “C’mon honey, let’s get you dried off and in bed while I go make you some toast okay? I know you haven’t eaten…” He never ate when he got like this, and it was something that scared you tremendously.

He sniffles, struggling and stumbling to get to his feet “Don’t wanna eat.” He’s quiet, his eyes trained on the ground

“I don’t want you to have to take care of me. Don’t wanna be a burden.” Swallowing hard, his stomach curdles again. He has to stop moving; has to balance himself against the wall, otherwise he knew for a fact that he would collapse. “I’m sorry.” He repeats again, wincing when you sigh at him.

“And I’m sorry for apologizing.” His voice shakes, he’s shivering from the cold, and you immediately head over to him, rubbing his arms with your hands, just trying to create some friction/ “I can—I’ll s-stop.” He’s a little dizzy, but still, he moves to grab two towels, one for you and one for himself.

“Here, Brian, just—just let me help you.” You rush to the door, grabbing the towels from him and wrapping him tightly in one. He winces and flinches away from you, making your stomach churn involuntarily.

Stepping  in front of him, you grab his biceps a little harder than necessary, well actually it was the proper amount of force that Brian needed to pull him out of his mind, but you still felt a little bad for the bruises you would probably use.

“Brian. Look at me, and listen to me okay?” Your eyes are hard and stern, you only want to be soft and sweet to him, but sometimes when he would get too far into his head, he needed hard. “You. Are. Not. A. Burden.. you don’t have to apologize for how you feel, you NEVER have to be sorry for how you feel... I love you Brian, I am your girlfriend, your partner in life, and I am going to stay right here, beside you, for the rest of our lives.”

His breath hitches, fresh tears somehow filling his eyes. He winces a little at your grip, but doesn’t really mind it, even if it’s bruising. He just nods, wordless. It’s silent, and then he finally stutters out a word. “O-okay.” he swallows. “I’m sorry—" he cuts himself off, wincing at his automatic apology. “I mean— I’m trying,” it’s stupid to say. He knows words are empty without action. “I love you, too.”

“I know honey, I know you’re trying.” You smile at him gently, moving your hands from his arms up to his face, thumbs rubbing the tears away from his cheeks. “I love you, and I’m going to help you okay? I’m not going anywhere, and you’re never going to be alone in this.” You sniffle, willing your tears away. He’s shivering in the cold, the fluffy towel doing nothing to warm him.

“Come on honey, come lay down.. it’s late, well, early… but, you... you need to sleep.” You grab his hands gently, bringing them to your lips to kiss. “Please?” Your words are desperate, you just want him to be okay, that’s all you ever want.

He nods, letting you pull him back into the bedroom. He’s quiet as you dry him off, his hands on your shoulders to balance himself. He feels... brittle. Like one false move and he’ll break into a million pieces. When you come back from throwing the towels in the hamper, he speaks “Will you... would you stay?”

Nodding gently, you strip out of your clothes before slipping on one of Brian’s oversized sleep shirts. “Of course honey, here...” You bring back the covers, sliding in and pulling him in beside you. “Come here Bri, let me hold you.” He nods and sniffles, wrapping him up in your arms, pulling him close to your chest.

Brian cuddles in close, clinging to you. He’s naked and cold, and essentially tries to bury himself into you and the blankets. He ducks his hands under your shirt, trying to warm them against your skin. You smelled good; smelled comforting. He lets out a shuddering breath, his body slowly warming up.

You shiver a little at Brian’s touches, smiling when he curls in deeper “There ya go baby, just let go.” You drop a kiss to his head, sighing deeply as his hands move up to cup your breasts, your heart pounding at the simple motion.

“You okay baby? What do you need me to do for you honey?” You speak gently, hands moving up and down his naked back

“I need—" He shivers, hands squeezing your breasts gently. “Need you to punish me. He murmurs the words, embarrassed. He doesn’t know how to explain it. His brain was working nonstop, all sorts of negative thoughts and horrible feelings settling in his mind. He couldn’t hurt himself—knew he shouldn’t. That’s what he used to do, when he was younger, when things got bad. But, maybe this would work.

You freeze your movements, eyebrows raising into your hairline at his words. “A-are you sure honey? Are you up for it?”

You were definitely concerned about why he was asking this of you, but you also knew that when he got into this headspace, one thing that helped bring him out was intimacy, but this? Trailing your hands up to his face, you tilt his eyes up towards you, concern written clearly on your face. “Brian, I-I need to know you’re not asking this because you think you deserve to be hurt.. I want to help you, b-but I need you to know that you don’t deserve to be harmed because of how you feel.”

He swallows hard, looking up at you warily “I don’t know about what I deserve but... it’s what I need.” He quiets.

“I need you to hurt me. I can’t do it myself, and it—It’s the only thing that... that helps,” He feels ashamed of his words; of himself. But this was the best alternative to other things. “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You quickly sit up, brushing your hands through his hair. “Hey, it’s okay Bri, I just—I wanna make sure you are sure and you’re okay with it.” The idea of him hurting himself made you nauseous, and if you could do something, anything... to help him feel better and more at ease, you would do. “I want to help you, wanna do whatever you need me to do honey.” You move to straddle his hips, running my hands down his chest, scraping my nails over his nipples, trying to build up to the punishment. “Now... tell me what you want baby, how do you want mommy to punish you…”

He whimpers, back arching up into your touch. He lets out a shuddering breath, trying to think.

“I—I don’t—" He swallows, throat clicking. He wants to feel something, wants something sharp to cut him out of his head

“... spank me.” He flushes, embarrassed at his request.

You can’t help but let out a deep moan at his words, your hands moving to his face to bring his lips up to yours.

“That’s what you want honey? You want mommy to bend you over her lap and spank you for being so naughty?” Speaking against his lips, you bring his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down gently. “Can’t believe you’re such a little slut for me Brian, I can already feel your cock throbbing just imagining my hand on your pretty little ass.” He whimpers, nodding quickly. “Please. I wanna—wanna feel your hands on me—' His breathing is a little shallow, his cock chubbing up despite itself. “Want it to h-hurt to sit down tomorrow. Want to have w-welts.” He’s blushing; he’s never asked for something like this from anyone before. Sure, maybe he’d been dommed, but not this.

“Oh baby, you’re gonna regret asking this...” You smirk wolfishly, sliding off of him, making sure to drag your naked cunt over his cock, pleasure and pride filling your stomach at the whimper that leaves his mouth.

“Come here slut, lay down on my legs...” He eagerly does as you say, rutting his cock against the mattress. “No sir.”

You bring your hand down hard on his ass, biting your lip at the sound the clap of skin makes. You’d dommed him before, been really rough, but never once had you hurt him because he was desperate for it. “You don’t fucking move understand? You don’t deserve to get any pleasure do you? You only get to be spanked like the little whore you are.”

 “ N—No. No, I don’t deserve it. I don’t.” He stutters out, grabbing a pillow and pulling it over to him, shoving his face into it. He clings to the fabric, spreading his legs a little, trying to get into a position he could hold. Please—Please, Y/N— Please, Miss!”

The title sends a rush of arousal in between your thighs, a small moan escaping your throat as you bring your hand down again, harder than before, smirking when he whimpers into the pillow.

“God Brian, you’re such a goddamn slut, look at you all spread out for me to spank.”

You slap his cheeks harder and harder with every go, feeling a little bad about it, about causing him pain.. but, you fucking loved it, loved how hard he was clenching the pillow

He cries out into the pillow, trembling all over, but moaning all the same. He feels messy and dirty and nasty and he loves it. “Fuck, Th-thank you, Miss. I’m a little s-slut. That’s a-all I am.”

He shifts again, trying to move further into your lap from where he was slipping a little. His legs slip open a little more, just as your hand aims for his lower cheek, and as a result, half of your slap lands across his balls. He cries out louder than before, tears springing to his eyes—and yet, he’s never been so hard in his life. “Oh f-fuck—"

Your eyes widen and your persona drops just a fraction, concerned for Brian. “Oh god, honey are you o—"

He’s whimpering and rutting again, his breathy moans going straight to your cunt. “You liked that didn’t you you little whore? You liked me slapping your balls?”

He just whimpers and nods, biting down on the pillow to stop his noises being too loud, which you were having none of. Reaching over you grab his chin and turn his face towards you, your eyes stern, voice hard as you grab hold of his balls in a grip that was just borderline mean.

“Don’t you EVER cover up your noises honey, I wanna hear how hot you are for me.” One firm smack on his ass later and his voice is choking out a sob, begging for more.

He feels dizzy, but in a better way than he had been feeling. He sobs out your name, his hips moving against his will, trying to rut his cock against your thigh. Each movement of his hips caused you to tug on his balls, which were still stinging from the slap earlier. His ass felt like it was on fire, but he loved it. “P-Please... Please!”

His whole body jerks when you spank him again, and he gasps out your name once more. “Y/N I—Oh fuck, I might c-cum—"

Pride swells inside of you, knowing that you had this effect on him, that he trusted and loved you enough to be so vulnerable with you. “Yeah? You gonna cum just from me spanking your slutty ass?”

You start to deliver blow after blow, one hard slap after another, rotating between pulling on his balls and slapping his ass. “Of course you are baby, or course you’re gonna cum just from this.. goddamnit you just love being punished by me don’t you honey, just love having your little man cunt absolutely destroyed because you know it’s what you deserve...” You’ve leaned down, whispering in his ear as you continue to smack and tug, knowing he’s close as can be, just hoping to send him over the edge.

Your final words do it, humiliation streaking through him. He lets out a sob, feeling the dirtiest he’s ever felt in his life as his hips jerk, his cock pulsing out cum messily all over your leg and the bedspread. He’s gasping for air, tears blurring his vision so much that he just closes his eyes. His hips continue to twitch, his balls pulsing in your hand.

“There ya go honey, just let go—breathe for me baby…” You run your hands up and down Brian’s back, gently scraping your nails along the slightly tanned skin to try and bring him back to earth. His entire body was shaking, and his hot cum completely coated your leg, only a few drops seemed to have gotten on the bed, which was a miracle in and of itself. You spare a glance down to Brian’s poor cheeks, wincing a bit as you take in just how red and welted they are. You’d need to get him an ice pack and some salve ASAP, but, you couldn’t move just yet, not with him clinging to your legs the way he was. “Baby, you did so good for me, I’m so so proud of you honey.. such a good boy.”

 He’s panting, trying to catch his breath, his head spinning. His ass hurts, but it feels good at the same time. No regrets. And despite his spinning head, his mind feels clearer than it has in days. “Fuck.” He murmurs, wiping his face on the pillow below him. His hand comes down to fumble at you, finally settling on your side. “T-thank you. I love you s-so much.”

 You bend over, pressing a series of kisses to his back and neck, your hands running up and down the cool skin before moving to rest on the hand he’s placed on your hip.

“I love you too Brian, so much…” Taking one last look at his red bottom, you sigh a little.

“C’mon baby, let’s get you cleaned up and then you can lie down and I’ll rub some salve over you okay? I don’t want you being in too much pain.” You make a move to stand, helping Brian do the same as you lead him to the bathroom, cleaning him and yourself up as quickly as you can before grabbing every moisturizer we own, plus making a quick get away downstairs to grab a few ice packs. Returning to the bedroom, you smile gently when you see him standing beside the bed, hands crossed in front of him, a deep red flush from his hairline to his thighs. “Okay honey, you lie down on your tummy and let me take care of you okay? Just relax and I’ll make you feel good…”

He nods, doing what you say easily, happy to follow your instructions. He lays down gingerly, wincing a little but trying to hide it; he doesn’t want you to feel bad.

He jumps at the first touch of your hand to his skin, but soon he’s sighing happily, relaxing into the mattress.

“That feels nice, love. Really good.” He moans softly, your hands lulling him into security.

 You can’t help but feel a little bad about the welts already forming on Brian’s ass, the redness making my heart clench, but seeing how calm and at ease the action had made him gives you a sense of peace... besides, if it helped him, you weren’t about to refuse him.

“If this is going to be a regular occurrence, I’m gonna have to invest in some top notch blister lotion for you honey.” You chuckle lightly, massaging the lavender lotion deep into his red skin, the sounds of his soft moans filling the room.

 He lets out a sound that’s an honest to god giggle, still feeling a little lightheaded, but this time from the subspace he was floating in.

“Maybe that would be a good investment for us, then. Though I like this...” He trails off, as if losing his train of thought, only to speak again after a long pause. “It smells nice.”

You chuckle “It does smell nice doesn’t it? Lavender helps relax you and soothes the skin, it’s exactly what you need honey.”

You keep kneading his ass for a little bit longer, smiling widely at his little noises, loving that you were making him feel good and relaxed. “You want me to get your back too Bri? Since I’m already back here.”

It just seemed logical, that you would continue the massage. It was about 5:30am at this point, and you knew we both needed to sleep, but Brian was loving this massage, and he seemed more relaxed than he had in weeks, so you weren’t about to stop now.

He pulls himself up on his elbows to look back at you, expression open and vulnerable. “You... you don’t have to.”

He feels a bit of guilt creeping in—nothing like the feelings he was having earlier, but... you’d done so much for him, and he’d done nothing for you.

You reach forward, scratching his back gently.

“I don’t mind baby, I wanna make you feel good.” You know he’s reluctant to accept, he always wants to be the one to take care of you, but he just.. he needs to be taken care of, and you didn’t mind “If you don’t want me to, I won’t Bri, but I just wanna make you feel special.” You lean down and place a single kiss to the middle of his spine, the action gentle and reassuring.

He thinks for a moment before settling back down into his pillow, nodding, his curls bouncing a little.

“Okay, love. If you want to, it would—it would feel nice.” His muscles still ached from his long period of sitting on the floor of the living room earlier.

“Thank you. I love you.” He murmurs into the soft fabric under his face, savoring the words, remembering how just a couple hours ago he’d lost the right to say such a thing.

You move your lips up his spine some more, nipping the skin just a little.

“Of course baby.. you deserve it.” You lean back, squirting some of the lotion onto his back, giggling a little when he jolts.

“Sorry, it’s a little cold.” He snorts, shaking his head against the fabric of the pillow. Shaking your own head, you start massaging his back, straddling his lower back as you work on his traps, digging in hard, working the knots out, your brows furrowing at how tense he was.

“Oh my god Brian, you’re so tense.. I’m gonna have to start doing this more often.. can’t have you getting knots like these on tour.”

He grunts a little at your ministrations—they kinda hurt, but in the best way. Just like earlier.

“Well, I’m an old man, lovely. I’m surprised my entire body isn’t one big knot.” He stretches a little, his muscles rippling under his skin, under your hands. “They work themselves out on tour, mostly. At least I’m moving around on stage. Rog has to sit most of the time.”

You have to bite your lip at the feeling of his muscles moving and tightening underneath your hands, your naked cunt still pressed firmly against his lower back. You were praying, for the first time in years, that he couldn’t feel your wetness, that he wouldn’t be freaked out by you being turned on by this.

“If you were one big knot, I’d spend everyday unfurling it for you.” Leaning down, you place a kiss to the back of his head, nuzzling his silver curls just a tad.

“You’re just gonna have to bring me with you to be your personal masseuse then.. I don’t want you “working out” your knots in stage, you need to be cared for... tenderly…”

“Personal masseuse hmm?” He chuckles softly, sounding thoughtful.

“Sounds like that’s a job that benefits you more than it does me.” He teases lightly; it felt like every nerve of his was alight, feeling every touch of yours—and he did mean EVERY touch. Besides, he knew by now what you sounded like when you were turned on

“Still, I’d be more than happy to offer you the position. You’re more than qualified, you know.”

Chuckling lightly at his words, you move your hands down further on his back, closer to where you were straddling him, yet you were still leaned over, your lips presses against the back of his neck.

“Yeah? Am I just that good or are you trying to butter me up?” He adjusts himself, bucking up into you just a little, causing your clit to rub deliciously against his back. The resulting whimper was one that you couldn’t keep back, and anyway, your mouth was so close to his ear there was really no sense in you trying to hide it... besides, you wanted him to know now, wanted him to know that you wanted HIM.

He groans at the noise you make; at the soft, warm slickness of your cunt against his skin

“Well I’d say you’re the best damn masseuse I’ve ever had, love. You’ve just got a.... unique touch.” He smirks to himself at his dumb innuendo

“.... here’s an idea. How’s about a head massage?”

You stop your movements, sitting up just a little bit as confusion washes over you at his words…you think you know what he’s saying, but.. you’re not entirely sure “H-head massage?”

You hitch out a gasp as he bucks his back again, your clit caught between his skin and your own. “I-I can g-get the head scratcher if you want honey, if that’s what you n-need.” Your head lolls forward, hitting his upper back, a breathy moan escaping your mouth.

He laughs before wriggling himself around under you. You climb off him in confusion, your brows arched at him. He rolls onto his back for tugging at you again.

“Okay, come back.” You straddle his hips, and his hands settle on your waist

“No, up here.” He tugs at you, urging you further up his body, a little smirk on his face.

“You can put your hands in my hair the way I like, but I want you—" You’re straddling his stomach now, and he pouts, trying to get you up to his face. “—closer.”

You raise your eyebrows, smirk wide on your face when you finally understand what he wants. “Oh really? How much closer?”

You slowly drag my pussy along his stomach, inching your way towards his chest. “Here?” He pouts and shakes his head, pulling you closer to his face. “Hmm... here?”

You slide up closer, your legs over his shoulders now.

He hums as if considering it, his hands squeezing your ass as he arches his neck to press a gentle kiss to one of your thighs.

“Well I’ll admit, I like it. But I think I’d like you even closer.” He smiles when you pretend to act surprised, and he looks up at you through his lashes, Hazel eyes wide and innocent.

“What? You don’t want to be closer?” He lets his head flop back down against the pillows, sighing wistfully.

“Wouldn’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”

 You hum in false consideration, burying your hands in his hair, your fingers locking into a few of his curls, tugging gently.

“I mean... I GUESS I can move a little closer…” You do just that, not giving him any warning before you settle your cunt right on his mouth, groaning at the friction.

“T-this close enough f-for you baby?”

He moans, the sound still loud even though it’s muffled by your cunt. His hands move to clutch at your hips, holding you down firmly so he can start licking over your folds. He’s eager and quick to find your clit, latching on and sucking on it while his tongue flicks against the little nub. You tasted so fucking sweet—he wanted more of it

The noise that escape your mouth at his ferocity and eagerness is borderline obscene.

“F-fuck Brian! Oh baby, y-you, FUCK!” You have to move one of your hands to the headboard to keep myself upright, your orgasm already fast approaching thanks to the sensitivity of your clit from your grinding earlier.

“C-cmon Bri, y-you can do b-better than that honey, e-eat me like you mean it.” You loved talking to Brian like this, it always made him go harder and be more intense.

Brian lets out a noise akin to a growl at your teasing words, his teeth brushing over your clit gently before he tugs you closer to him, his tongue pressing into you as deep as he can get it while his long nose nudges against your clit. He moves his head back and forth quickly, curls bouncing, one hand moving from your hip to slap your ass hard. He wants you to cum on his tongue; wants to have you soak his face; wants to taste you for hours.

You’re gasping for breath as he slaps your ass, both of your hands now clenching the headboard so hard that your knuckles were white. Brian’s nose bumps your clit as his tongue digs hard inside of you one final time before the dam breaks, and your orgasm hits you like a goddamn truck. “B-Bri—o-oh my god!” His groans send vibrations through your clit and up your body, pulling whimpers from your mouth as you ride his face, riding your orgasm out as long as you can.

He makes a desperate sound, licking through your folds over and over again, taking everything you have to give him. His hands move your hips to help you ride it out, making you grind smoothly onto his face. He continues until your grip in his hair turns to pushing away, and only then does he pull away, heaving breaths in. Still, he doesn’t let you get far; pressed hot, sucking kisses over the tender skin of your pale inner thighs. He has his eyes shut, a dreamy sort of smile on his face. He loved eating you out; not only did he love pleasing you, but he always actually enjoyed it, too

You all but collapse against the headboard, your  hands gently holding onto his hair as you try and catch your breath.

“B-Bri, I-I.. fuck honey…” Chuckling lightly, you sit up and gaze down at him, a soft and pleased smile on your face. “Help me lie down please? I-I don’t think I can move my legs.”

Brian tosses his head back at your words, laughing joyfully

“Well then that’s a job well done on my part, yeah?” You tug his hair pointedly, and he hushes up, moving to help you lay down beside him. Once you’re all comfy, he curls up around you, on his side. He settles a large hand onto your stomach, splaying his fingers out. He swore if he focused hard enough he could feel your still racing pulse under your skin.

“Thank you for the head massage.”

Burying your face in his neck, you let out a bright laugh, shaking your head at his words. “I’m more than happy to give you a head massage every single day for the rest of time if you want.”

You press a kiss to his neck before sighing and burying yourseld further into the pillows, winding your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer so he can rest his head on your chest. It’s comforting, being this way with him, and it almost makes you forget the intensity of earlier.. but not completely.

“Ya know, we’re gonna have to talk about what happened earlier right? I think it’s safe to say that we’re not breaking up.. but, we do need to talk about everything…” As much as you don’t want to... but, you were adults and needed to communicate like them.

He tenses at your words, anxiety cutting through his stomach sharply. But he tries to ignore it; to breathe out long and slow and nod

“I know. I know we do.” He’s quiet for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry.”

You give him a squeeze, sighing along with him.

“I know honey, I know you are. And there’s nothing for you to be sorry for. You have valid feelings and reasons to be upset and worried.” Your voice is light, you weren’t scared anymore, you knew we would be and stay together… but, you still needed to talk

“You do still want to be with me right? I know that’s probably stupid to ask, but, I just want to make sure that you still want this.. to be with me, have a life with me.”

He’s quiet for a long time after your question, thinking about how to answer. It’s only when he feels you tensing up that he realizes he’s been silent much too long. He rubs his hand over your side, voice soft when he finally speaks, his stomach fluttering nervously

“Y/N, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. No matter how short of a time that will be,” He sighs, “That’s what’s so scary.”

Closing your eyes, you breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing completely against Brian’s body.

“I want to be with you for the rest of your life too Brian, and I-I know that might not be the most lengthy time.. but, it’s still time that we’ll have together, a chance to be with one another until we,” You release a shuddering breath, not wanting to imagine a future without Brian in it, but knowing that in the next decade or so… it could happen.

“But that’s in the future.. and, I could marry someone my age and them die the day after our wedding, or have them develop cancer 5 years into our marriage.. we aren’t guaranteed tomorrow Brian, Hell, I could die on my way to work in the morning... it’s not about how much time we have with someone, it’s about why we do with the time we have.”

He swallows hard, nodding once more.

“I know... I know, you’re right. It’s just... well, no one likes discussing their own mortality I suppose.” He sighs, reaching blindly for one of your hands to hold.

“I should have... have trusted your opinion. It’s not that I didn’t or don’t, I just... I want you to be happy and taken care of. And I’m always worried I won’t be able to—I know someday I won’t be here. And I just... I don’t know. It was stupid I suppose” He drops his head, laughing humorlessly. “If it was what you were feeling, it’s not stupid Brian.. you’re not stupid for being scared, or worrying about me.. it makes me feel loved and cared for, which is all I know you want for me.. I trust you, love you, and appreciate beyond belief the fact that you care so much about me and my well being, that you were willing to sacrifice your happiness...” You squeeze the hand resting on your stomach, wanting to provide him with just a small ounce of comfort.

“You’ve made me so happy just in the short time we’ve been together.. like, I swear to god Brian it feels like you’ve shoved 10 years of love and happiness into 4 months, and—god, I just—I love you so much..”

  He feels a little bit of relief at your words; that you weren’t still angry with him. Sure, maybe your “I hate you” still rang in his head, but he knew it would slowly fade if he gave it time. He brings your hand up to his lips to kiss it softly

“I love you, too, Y/N. More than anything.” His words are quiet and reverent, like a prayer.

You smile gently at him, leaning forward to drop a kiss to his forehead, still feeling absolutely horrific for what you’d said to him, he didn’t deserve that…

“Bri…” You choke back a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry for what I said to you.. y-you didn’t deserve to have me tell you I hate you, especially when I could never, EVER, hate you. You’ve given me nothing but love and understanding, care and affection... and I-I’ll spend the rest of time reconciling what I said to you…”

He nods, not wanting to think about it, but knowing he had to. “It’s alright, Y/N.”

His voice is still quiet; he doesn’t want you to be upset. He doesn’t want you to beat yourself up over it. He’d hurt you, and you’d said it, and it was all.... in a rush of emotions… something he definitely understood, and he couldn’t fault you for it.

“It’s okay, love.” He pulls away from you just a little, tugging at the covers “Let’s just go back to bed, yeah?”

You still feel like a shit girlfriend, but you know he doesn’t blame you, you know he isn’t holding it against you, and you’re 100% positive that he knows he didn’t mean it...

“Okay, yeah.. bed does sound good.” You allow him to cover you up with the blanket, snuggling up against him.

“Rog’s guest bed is comfortable, but the best bed in the world could feel like a goddamn bed of rocks when you’re not there with me.”

He laughs a little at your words, but then frowns.

“Oh, I should...” He sits up, but makes sure the covers stay tucked over you.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I need to call him. I sort of... yelled at him, earlier.” He barely remembers doing so, but he knows he did.

You try your best to stay awake while Brian calls Roger, but the emotional and physical drainage of the day wacks you in the goddamn face, and before you know what’s happening, you’re falling asleep to Brian’s sheepish voice on the phone with Roger. Brian returns to bed about 20 minutes later, after a rather irritated Roger had given him a dressing down that only his mother’s could rival. He appreciated what his best friend had done for you beyond measure, that he had taken you in and made sure you were safe… he could never repay him for that, and the drummer would never ask him to do so. Curled up in bed next to you, Brian falls asleep in no time, his heart finally healing from the gash that he had inflicted on himself earlier that day. He sleeps for a while, finally waking up around 11:30. So, about 5 hours. Not bad. He’s surprised when he finds you still asleep next to him, though I guess you’d been awake just as long as he had. He lays there for a little bit to wake up more before stretching and getting out of bed. He throws on a pair of underwear and a cozy robe and slippers, trying to keep quiet so not to wake you. Then he sneaks downstairs to the kitchen, digging in his fridge to find something to cook for breakfast, he just felt like he still had a lot of making up to do.

You wake up to the smell of breakfast, tea to be more precise, being made. The smell brings a smile to your face and you roll over and stretch widely, groaning a bit. Grabbing your phone as you sit up, your eyes widen a tad when you see that’s it’s close to noon, and that you have approximately 1350 missed calls and texts from various members of the May and Taylor family. After taking a bit of time to respond to Emily, Jimmy, and Louisa, reassuring them that you and their father were completely fine, you put on a robe and my, well technically they were Brian’s, house shoes and head downstairs. Brian is stood in front of the stove, humming as he cooks, the sight brings a smile to my face as I walk towards him, wrapping my arms around his middle “Mmmm what did I do to deserve this?”

He smiles when he hears you come in; relaxes back into your touch. He chuckles at your words.

“Hmm? Well, you deserve this every day just for existing.” He pauses, flipping over the pancakes he was cooking.

“But specifically? I think what I put you through last night is reason enough for a big, yummy breakfast.” He frowns, sighing, looking down at the pan.

“Although apparently my waffle maker is broken. I guess it’s about time. I think I’ve had that thing since the early 90’s, it’s probably a fire hazard.”

Your eyes widen dramatically and you smack his stomach.

“Brian! You’re an international rock legend, you have more money than the bloody queen, and you’ve been using the same waffle machine for 30 years?” You laugh loudly into his back, squeezing him tightly*

“Could you imagine the headline? Legendary Queen Guitarist and Astrophysics Legend Brian May burns down multimillion-dollar home in Waffle Machine electrical malfunction.”

 He grins, shaking his head, his curls brushing your face.

“Hey, it was a great waffle maker! Besides, they get better with age, I’ve been told. There’s more flavor.” You make a disapproving sound and he grins “Well, Anita and I did have a newer one, but she took it with her. It’s not like I needed it.”

You chuckle and give him one final squeeze, pulling your phone out of the pocket of my robe “YOU got better with age, WINE gets better with age, CHEESE gets better with age… Not waffle makers babe…” Opening up the Postmates app, you tease him while and ordering a waffle iron from Waitrose.

“There, got one on the way now, hopefully one that won’t set your house on fire and kill us all.” You reach up and peck his cheek, showing him the delivery notification.

He pouts when he sees the notification, but leans into your kiss.

“Well I’ll pay you back for that, I swear.” He turns back to the multiple pans on the stove.

“Could you get out some plates? And maybe some drinks? Mimosas sound good, if you’re up for it.”

“You will NOT pay me back for that! A £30 waffle iron pales in comparison to all of the things you’ve given me. Consider it a mutually beneficial gift.” You slap his ass and head to get the plates and cups out, moaning in appreciation of his suggestion for mimosas.

“God yes, mimosas sounds incredible, I’ll make a pitcher?” You shoot him a look of questioning, smiling when he nods. It doesn’t take long for you to run downstairs and get a bottle of Moët, aka the only champagne that Brian drank.. a little cliche but definitely something that made you smile. Bouncing up the stairs, you hyperventilate dramatically, leaning against the fridge

“Okay, with pulp or without?”

By the time you come back up, he’s starting to plate the food. He scoffs at your question. “In mimosas? No pulp please.” You grumble something about him being picky, which makes him laugh.

“Yes mum, I’ve always been picky. That’s what you get with me.” He carries the plates to the little dining area still within the kitchen, before going to get things like syrup and jam and butter.

You shake your head at him, pouring the orange juice into the pitcher, followed by some ice cubes, and the champagne, jumping when the cork pops.

“Ya know, I’m never gonna get used to that.” You mumble it to yourself, but Brian laughs and drops a kiss to your cheek when he passes.

“I guess I’m just going to have to get used to your pickie little ass then hmm? If I’m gonna deal with you for the rest of time, I should get used to the fact that you only like no pulp orange juice and chilled, but not cold, cheese...” You raise your eyebrows at him as you put the pitcher on the table before taking a seat beside him.

He pouts. “Cold cheese is too hard and dulls the flavor, but warm cheese is...” He shudders, before taking his glass from you. “Chilled is the happy medium.” Brian winks at you before sipping his drink. “Delicious. And I hope breakfast suits you. The pancakes have a little cardamom in them this time.”

You give him a look of disbelief, smiling before cutting one of the fluffy pancakes and sticking it in your mouth, groaning in pleasure at the taste.

“Jesus Christ Brian, these are amazing, thank you.” You lean over and peck his lips, mouth still full of pancake.

“I think you should hang up red and just become my personal chef...” You wriggle my eyebrows at him, taking a big bite, throwing your head back while moaning in pleasure, licking the fork.

He snorts. “I wouldn’t make much of a personal chef if all I can really make is breakfast food.” You give him a look and he grins.

“Alright, and noodles. Listen, I lived with three other men most of my life and two of them couldn’t even cook an egg. John was wildly talented in the kitchen, so I didn’t have to be anything special.” He takes a bite of his own, groaning a little.

“That IS good....”

“Told ya so.” You send him a wink, eating as fast as you could, going back for seconds within 10 minutes of sitting down.

“Don’t you dare say anything.. I’m a growing girl, and you made wayyyy too many pancakes for me to only have 3.” You pour some syrup on them, your tongue sticking out in concentration Brian grins and takes a bite of his own food. “I made more because I knew you’d eat them. Plus, who doesn’t love leftover pancakes.” He shrugs.

“I don’t have anything to do today, miraculously. If you don’t either, maybe we could just... have a day to ourselves?” It was rare that the two of you had that, even on the weekends. But the tour was on a little break, and Brian was trying to make the most of it.

“That sounds amazing Bri.” You smile over at him, taking another bite, happiness flooding your body just thinking about the possibilities of what the two of you could do with a whole day to yourselves.

“What do you wanna do? As long as I get to sit in your lap for a majority of the day, I don’t give a shit.” You loved, and I repeat, LOVED sitting in Brian’s lap.. it just.. made you feel safe and loved, plus it didn’t hurt that he usually ended up with a boner, and you usually ended up face down on the couch while he fucked you relentlessly.

He shifts in his seat at your words, smiling a little. Was he already horny just from those words? Yes. Listen, he might be an old man, but his cock still tried to be 20 years old…

“Well we can certainly do that, love. I was thinking of maybe watching a movie or something, and eating ourselves silly, and...” He sighs.

“Well maybe that sounds a bit boring. I just thought we could spend some time together. I miss you, when you’re gone.”

“ Aww, Bri…” You set your fork and knife down, scooting your chair back so you can climb over into his lap. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean  forward to press a series of kisses to his cheeks and forehead.

“I miss you too when you’re gone.. more than you know…” You sigh, remembering how sad you’d been when he’d gone off on the first leg of the tour, leaving you all alone in the big house.

“Wish there was some way I could come with you, the bed is just so empty and cold when you’re not here with me.”

 He looks up at you sharply, arching his brows at your words

“You—You’d want to come?” He honestly hasn’t thought so. Not because of anything you’d done, but just because you had your own life and career you loved, and touring was hectic. It was a hard life to live; always on the go, never any sleep, night after night. But it was his passion and he loved it. But again, he knew it wasn’t for everyone.

 You stammer a little at his words, slightly embarrassed. Sure you’d desperately wanted to go with him when he left on tour.. but, you’d never brought it up because you didn’t want to make him feel like he HAD to bring you.

“I-I mean, I’d like to.. but, I understand if you wouldn’t like that! You’ve been doing this for 50 years, and you probably have a set way of doing things, and I’d probably just get in the way.”

Biting your lip, you shake your head.

“I have 51 days of vacation from work, a-and I could always use that, but…” You chuckle, scratching his head. “I don’t wanna make you feel like you have to let me.”

 His breath leaves his chest in a big huff, hazel eyes wide “51 days of vacation?? How???” You shrug and he shakes his head.

“Okay, well, we’re definitely talking about that later, but...” He smiles up at you.

“Of course I’d want you on the road with me. You might get sick of it, but you could always go back home if that happens. I—I’d love it if you were there. And I know Rog and Adam would like you there too, and the crew won’t mind as long as you don’t sabotage anything.” He winks.

You breathe a sigh of relief, smiling before pressing your lips to Brian’s, tasting the maple of the syrup he’d just eaten.

“Well, I can’t promise that I won’t destroy the dressing room with you...” You bite his lip gently, smirking when you feel his cock thickening under your ass.

“But are you sure? I don’t want to be in the way or do anything that could cause people to be uncomfortable., it’s YOUR space, somewhere you’re most at ease in your element.”

 “It IS my space, and my world. But I’d like to show it to you and share it to you. I want to share everything with you…” He’s quiet, voice open and innocent.

“I’ve never been able to share it with someone I loved before. Chrissie never liked it, Anita already had her own stage... It’s something I love and I’m proud of and I enjoy, and I’d only love it more if you were there.” Though his words are conversational, he’s gently grinding his hips up into your ass, lids fluttering at the feeling.

Your eyes close at the feeling of him beneath you, your breath hitching in your throat.

“I-I would love to do that Bri.. it s-seems so fascinating and fast paced.. I-I think I would really like it.” You open your eyes, hands going into his hair, tugging his lips towards yours, groaning when his arms tighten around your waist, holding you close.

“Besides, I really wanna fuck you against an amp…it’s not fair how goddamn hot you look on that stage.”

He laughs, wrinkling up his nose a little.

“Fuck me against an amp? That doesn’t sound very comfortable.” He teases, cheeks flushed a little at the thought. He always got amped up after shows, his adrenaline pumping. The thought of fucking you after coming off stage, the crowd still roaring.... fuck, he wanted that.

Noticing the blush on his face and chest, you can’t help but smirk, leaning forward to lick a stripe from his Adam’s apple to his ear, loving the way he shuddered under you.

“No? Well... I guess I can just take care of myself backstage if you don’t want me to fuck you.”

You love teasing him more than should probably be allowed, the way he would stutter and blush, and sometimes just absolutely lose control and fuck you senseless… it was a nice game of roulette.

He clenches his jaw, growling a little

“No you won’t. You’ll wait for me to be done performing like a good little girl.” His hands move to your ass, squeezing gently.

“You’ll wait as long as it takes and you won’t touch yourself.” He hums softly, as if thinking.

“Sometimes I’ll practice beforehand in my dressing room. I’ll turn up the volume and let you ride the amp, if you’re that desperate.” Bingo.. that’s exactly what you had been hoping for.. God, you loved it when he was dirty and degrading with you.. usually he didn’t do this, he felt bad for it.. but fuck did you love it. Biting your lip, you start to grind yourself against his cock, trying to look as innocent as possible.

“But what if I don’t wanna be a good girl daddy? What if I wanna be a brat and make you mad? What if that’s what your baby girl wants?” You have to admit.. riding his amp.. feeling the vibrations from red.. god, it was unlike anything you’d ever imagined.

He slaps your ass, jaw clenching.

“Then you can have your own fucking fingers, and I won’t touch you.” He arches a brow at you. “That’s what you want, right? To get off whenever you want?”

A shocked gasp escapes your mouth at his smack, arousal folding your cunt. “N-no, wanna get off with you, wanna have you fuck me until I can’t walk anymore daddy...”

You clench your eyes shut when he smacks your ass again, a small whimper breaking free. “But I-I wanna be naughty too daddy, wanna be a brat.”

“Well naughty girls don’t get this fat cock.”

You whimper and he cocks his head to the side.

“Maybe I’d fuck your throat. Use you, and then leave you be.” He sighs.

“Because no matter how bad you are, I suppose I can’t find someone else. And I’ve got to get off some way.” He says the words lightly, sighing as if put out, but he squeezes your hip gently, hoping to get across that it’s part of this game you’re playing. That he’d never dream of fucking someone else; never want to. You were it for him, and he knew that you knew that.

You’re genuinely surprised by his words and how insanely hot they’re making you.

“No, daddy, no I’ll be good for you, I promise, d-don’t want you going to find someone else, o-only want you to use me as a cum dumpster daddy.” You whimper loudly, grinding harder, loving the way his robe was rubbing you.

“Only want you to use me to fill up with your cum.. p-please daddy I’ll be good for you, I’ll take every drop.”

He is absolutely breathless, your words making him feel hot all over.

“Jesus, Y/N…” He swallows hard, moaning a little as your roll your hips against his.

“Well you’re not being very good right now, are you? Grinding against me right here in the kitchen. Naughty little thing.”

You bite your lip, hands tightening in his hair.

“I-I’m sorry daddy, I’ll be good, b-but your c-cock is just so fucking addicting, and I n-need you!” You halt your grinding even though you know you’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

“W-will you pl-please fuck me daddy? P-pretty p-please? I’ll be so good for you, I-I promise.”

He arches a brow, leaning back in his chair.

“Get off my lap.” His voice is more even than he thought it would be, and he’s thankful for it. You don’t move and he smacks your ass, voice hardening. “I said, get off my lap, Y/N.”

You know that your eyes are probably as wide as saucers, your breath catching in your throat at his harshness, but, you do as he asks, stumbling off of his lap, falling to the ground in your haste to move.

“Shit, I-I’m sorry daddy, I-I didn’t mean to make you mad... I’ll be good I p-promise.” You scramble to get up, only wanting to do whatever you can to please him, to make him know that you would be good.

Brian swallows hard, his head a little dizzy from how much blood was rushing to his cock. Jesus, he was so turned on it wasn’t even funny. And you hadn’t said no, or safeworded out. You were a dream. He scoots his chair back from the table before gesturing to the empty spot in front of him. “Take off your robe and bend over the table. Legs spread.”

You quickly do exactly what he says, shakily taking off your robe and throwing it on the chair you’d previously vacated, leaving you stark naked in front of him. You’re surprised that your legs are actually working, and you stumble your way to the table, bending over exactly as he’d requested, your naked cunt and ass on full display.

“N-now what daddy?” You were so eager to please him, and GOD was this a stark contrast to last night’s events. But that’s what you loved about your relationship with Brian... it was never the same thing, always evolving and always changing.

 He bites his lip, hands coming up to palm your ass before spanking it, watching it jiggle.

“Fuck you look so good like this, honey.” He tugs his robe open, leaning back in his chair and starting to play with his cock.

“What do you want, baby girl?”

You don’t think you’ve ever been so goddamn turned on in your ENTIRE life, the way he was treating you, how rough and dominant he was being? You’d never seen this side of Brian and you were praying to god you never had to go without it ever again.

“W-want you to be rough with me daddy, want y-you to fuck me until I can’t w-walk and c-cum inside of me please” You whimper when he spanks you again, your cunt leaking heavily. “Want you t-to fill me up, I NEED your cum d-dripping out of me please daddy, I’ll do a-anything.” You knew that you should be embarrassed by your begging and desperation.. but you weren’t, not even close.

“God, you’re a whore.” His words are harsh, but his tone is impossibly fond. He sighs, moving his fingers to your dripping cunt, rubbing through your folds.

“You’re absolutely soaked.” He pulls his fingers away before giving your cunt a gentle slap, but a slap nonetheless, much like the slap you’d delivered to his balls the night before.

“O-oh! G-god—daddy please, need your cock!” Your head is firmly placed on the table, hands grasping the corner of the wood as hard as you can without hurting myself.

You had never been so desperate before, usually you were a champion for as much foreplay as humanly possible, but for some reason his attitude and words were just causing you to have a fucking aneurysm.

“Fuck me l-like the dirty little fucking w-whore I am daddy, need y-you to breed me and teach me a goddamn lesson!”

“Breed you?” His voice cracks a little, and he stands, palming your ass, spreading it and your cunt open,

“Want me to fuck a baby into you?” He doesn’t know why he’s saying it, especially when he knows he more than likely can’t do that.

“I’ll bring you on tour with me just to fuck you full of cum every night.” His voice is hoarse as he steps closer, his cock brushing your thigh.

Your noises are pathetic, desperate and wanton.. the kitchen sounds more like a bordello at this point.

“Y-yes Brian, p-please fuck a baby in me daddy, wanna be so full of your cum, and t-then full with y-your baby!” The two of you hadn’t exactly discussed this aspect of your relationship but... you wouldn’t complain if it happened.

“I-is that a promise daddy? You promise to fuck me hard as full every night before and after? I wanna b-be dripping with your cum w-while you’re on stage p-performing for thousands.. me-meanwhile I’m backstage, your cum running d-down my leg...” You press your ass into him, wiggling a little, just trying to get some relief.

He just pushes your legs further apart, making you rest completely against the table. He slips a hand up to your shoulders, pressing against you while his other hand wraps around his cock. He strokes the head up and down your folds, shuddering a little at the feeling.

“Only if you’re good for me, baby girl. You can have all the cum you want as long as you’re good.” He murmurs, teasing at your entrance.

You shudder completely at his words, at the tone of his voice, how his hand feels splayed completely across your back, the way his breath is hot on your neck.

“I-I’ll be good! I-i promise daddy, I’ll be s-so good for you.” You’re near tears at this point, just so incredibly desperate for his cock to be inside you that you can’t control your emotions anymore.

“P-please n-need to feel your cum s-seeping out of me daddy, please, n-need your baby inside of me...”

He can’t take it anymore—shoves himself inside you with one quick stroke and doesn’t let up, not letting you adjust. He just holds you down on the table, one hand on your neck, the other gripping your ass, slapping it every now and then as he absolutely rails you. He doesn’t know where his energy is coming from, but he’s fucking you hard, as if his life depended on it.

“Fuck, your greedy little cunt is taking me so good. You’re such a fucking slut—"

The little scream you let out at his ferocity and sudden intrusion would be enough to garner attention from neighbors if it hadn’t been lunch time on a Thursday. Clenching tightly around his cock, your hands grip the table like it’s the only thing on earth that can keep you from disappearing into the atmosphere. “F-fuck—daddy, y-you’re s-so f-fucking big!” You somehow manage to hitch out the words, your face firmly smashed against the overly expensive wood of the table. Our breakfast was still lying right beside you while Brian went to town on your cunt. He’d never been this hard and rough, but you wanted more.

“C-cmon daddy, y-you can do b-better than that! F-fuck you’re little g-girl’s cunt like you m-mean it!”

 He slaps your ass again, thrusting somehow harder, putting his whole weight into it, grinding a little into you each time. “You’ll fucking take what I give you.” He growls, his hand moving from your neck to your hair, tugging on it, making you arch your back a little.

“Wish I could tie you up all day—leave you open and wanting for me. I can just use you whenever I want. Make a mess of you.” The noises filling the kitchen are obscene, his hips crushing against your ass, going so hard that his balls are swinging to slap against your clit.

 You’re already so close, his cock was pressing deliciously into your g-spot, his balls slapping your clit at a speed and harshness that was sending you closer and closer to tipping over the edge.

“W-want that so much d-daddy, wanna h-have you u-use me whenever you w-want!” You’re trying your best to push away your orgasm, not wanting to cum just yet, and knowing that he probably wouldn’t let you, you had to be good for him, had to do what he wanted…

“D-daddy, I-I’m so close c-can I c-cum all over your cock? P-please daddy?”

 Brian hauls you up a little by your hair, just to let his hand slip over your throat, holding you there, making you balance yourself at an angle where all your weight is essentially onto his cock. Still, he pounds into you, eyes sweeping over the scene you make in front of him.

“You wanna cum already? What a little whore you are.” He makes a disappointed sigh, tutting at you.

“Fine. Cum if you need to. But I’m not stopping.”

The new angle somehow sends him deeper into your cunt that he’s ever been before, his tip prodding your cervix.

“C-cumming for you d-daddy—" You gasp out, his hand closing a little tighter on your throat as you do so, your head leaning back to rest on his shoulder as your orgasm hits you, the intensity of it causing you to genuinely feel like you’re passing out, and you genuinely think you blackout for second.

He curses up a storm as you cum, but doesn’t let up his thrusting. He just plunges himself over and over into you, biting at your neck and shoulder as he lets out strangled moans. He holds you up against him, one hand on your neck, the other on your hip “There’s my naughty girl—just can’t fucking help yourself, can you? God, I can feel you dripping down my balls, even. You’re so dirty.”

 His incessant pounding brings you back to earth, your overly sensitive cunt clenching around his cock again and again.

“I-it’s all for you daddy, m-my cum I-is all yours!” You reach behind you, grasping onto Brian’s neck to try and hold yourself up a little. You can feel his cock grinding and bumping your cervix with every thrust, the noises bouncing off of the overly large kitchen making your cunt tingle even more. You were faster approaching another orgasm, and you knew he was close too, but you didn’t want this to end.

His hands moves from your hip to your clit, rubbing the slick little nub quickly. You gasp and try to arch away from the touch, oversensitive, but you’re literally impaled on his cock. You can’t really move, and he knows it

“Fucking take it, Y/N. You’re gonna take it, and you’re gonna cum again, and maybe then—maybe then I’ll give you want you want.” God, he was so close, his balls tight against his body. It was taking all he had to hang on.

“Y-yes sir, I-I’m g-gonna—" You cut yourself off with a scream, cunt spasming, ejaculation shooting from your pussy, covering Brian’s cock, his thighs, god y-you’d just fucking squirted all over him, in the KITCHEN. It was just as intense as the first orgasm, probably because of how insanely sensitive you already were, your cunt holding his cock hostage inside, your walls tightening around him, the only thing keeping you standing being his arms which were tight around your neck and stomach.

“Oh, fuck—yes, there’s a good girl.” He growls out, eyes rolling back in his head as you squirt all over him, drenching his cock. It’s what he’d wanted; what he knew he could get you to do if he tried had enough. You’d done it once before, completely on accident, and you’d been completely embarrassed and didn’t want to talk about it. But to him? God, it was the hottest thing he’d ever felt. And to feel it around his cock? Well needless to say, he was cumming pretty quickly soon after, still pressed right up against your cervix, coating your insides as his balls pulsed. He moans into your neck, legs trembling, but managing to keep you both upright.

“T-there ya go d-daddy, o-oh my god, f-fuck daddy, f-fill me up!” You gasp and whimper as his cum shoots into you, the warm and strange feeling coursing through your abdomen, filling you completely. God, he’d cum inside of you before, but never this much, he had NEVER cum this hard before...

“G-gonna give me a baby aren’t you Bri? Oh yes baby, god—you’re gonna fuck me full until I’m pregnant baby, fuck!” If it happened, it happened, and I wasn’t going to complain, certainly not if it happened from THIS.

 He just lets out an undignified whimper, hips still rutting into you. He can feel his legs around to give out, so he falls back clumsily into the chair, taking you with him. He lets you rest your head back against his neck as he pulls your legs open, spreading you out. God, if anyone were to walk in right now, you’d be on full display. He groans at the thought, his cock twitching again inside you. He’d never thought about sharing you before—why was he in such a mood today? He sneaks a hand down, fingertips toying with your slick clit, humming when you whimper.

The whimper is weak and barely audible to you, your head lolling to rest on his shoulder, your mouth wide, cunt aching in the best possible way.

“G-god B-Bri I-I’m s-so sensitive...” You didn’t want him to stop necessarily, I mean, his cock was still hard and twitching inside of you... that had NEVER happened and he was.. he was so fucking hard and horny today, and you had no idea what was causing it, but you started to grind against his cock, riding him,.

He coos to you, shushing you softly.

“I know, baby girl. Do you want me to stop?” He presses a kiss to your shoulder gently, just using his thumb to rub up and down on your clit, breath hitching as it makes you squeeze around his cock. He knew he’d slowly be softening, though this was the longest he’d stayed hard in a long time.

You shake your head frantically, whimpering as his fingers continue rubbing you “N-no! G-god no Bri, w-wanna cum on your cock again, w-wanna keep y-you hard a-as long as I c-can!” You knew that he was usually so self-conscious about his ability to stay hard, so you just wanted to make him feel better about himself. You also just wanted to see how many times he could make you cum.

He shudders, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“You’re such a greedy girl.” He murmurs. He’s rubbing your clit quickly, but trying to keep his touch light. He wants to make you feel good, not hurt.

“You’re so good for me, Y/N, love. You’re such a good girl.” He moans, feeling you squirm and flutter around his cock. “You feel so good.”

Your cunt is clenching and quivering around his cock, his fingers softly grazing your clit, and thanks to your previous 2 orgasms, that’s all it takes for your third orgasm to wrack your body, sending you clenching hard around his cock, your hands clutching into the back of his head, your hips moving involuntarily on him.

“I-I l-love you so much Bri, o-oh fuck honey! Y-you’re so good to me!” This orgasm isn’t as intense as the first 2, but to be honest you weren’t sure anything could ever compare to those.

He moans, gasping for air as you flutter around his softening cock, squeezing some of his cum out of you. It drips dirty down his thighs and balls, and he curses.

“F-fuck, babygirl—I love you too, so much— Such a good girl, honey. There you go. It’s alright.” He rubs your stomach gently.

His words and actions are so soft and gentle, causing a small smile to pull at your features.

“Jesus Christ Bri, w-what’s gotten into you honey? That was insane…”

You giggle, turning your head so you can place a sloppy kiss to his stubbly cheek, hand running over the other side of his face. “Amazing and incredible... but insane.”

Brian blushes, leaning down to press a million little kisses over your skin.

“I’m sorry, honey. I... I don’t Know, really. We were just talking and it.... escalated.” He snorts at his own description of what had just happened.

“Are you alright? Let’s get you up and get you clean. I’m sorry I was so rough.”

You chuckle and shake your head, squeezing his thigh.

“I’m fine honey, god, I’m more than fine. I liked it, SO much.” You’re still trying to catch your breath, his hand on your stomach. The touch is making you think about the words you’d exchanged, the implications of what you’d just done.. the evidence of which was running out of your cunt.

“Bri... I meant what I said earlier..about you…” You clear your throat, a little embarrassed. “About you fucking a baby in me...”

 His breath catches, fingers splaying out over your stomach. His heart sinks a little, and he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I... I wish I could give that to you.” He’s quiet, voice a little sad.

“I just don’t know that’s possible for me, anyone.” He hides his face into your neck, trying to apologize.

Your own heart sinks a little as well, not at the implications of his words, but at the fact that he felt so guilty about it, the fact that he might not be able to give you a baby.

“Hey, Bri, honey…” You turn around in the chair, his soft cock falling free, a combination of your cum flowing freely from your cunt now. Brushing your hand over his face, you trace your thumb under his eye where a single tear has fallen. “It’s okay.. I-I don’t need anything else but you… if a baby happens, that’s great, but if not, I’m perfectly content with just having and loving you.”

 He sniffles, nodding quickly, embarrassed that he was crying. He hugs you tight, arching up to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“ know... I know, I just... I wish...” He swallows hard.

“I wish we could. I wish I were younger.” He murmurs. It’s all dreams and nonsense, he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from wishing.

You give him a gentle smile, leaning in to kiss him. “I don’t…” He gives me a look, eyebrows raised in disbelief. You laugh, kissing him a few hundred times.

“I’m serious Brian, we met right when we needed to.. if you’d met me 20 or so years ago we never would’ve worked, mainly because I was a baby...” You try to be funny, giggling at your own joke.

“And that would’ve been a little bit more intense in the media than us today, if you can believe that.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He pokes your side, shaking his head. He sighs, looking up at you.

“Maybe we wouldn’t have worked out. But maybe we would have. Maybe we would’ve been good. Maybe you would’ve... kept me good.” His eyes are a little watery, his insecurities showing through.

“Oh honey.” You wrap your arms around his head, pulling him close, allowing his head to rest on your neck.

“You are good Bri, yeah you’ve made some mistakes in your past, and you’ve done something’s that were less than okay…” He sniffles, making your arms tighten.

“But they made you who you are today, they made you the Brian that I love more than anyone else in the world.. without the mistakes you made, you wouldn’t have learned from them, and you probably wouldn’t be able to cherish and love me the way you do...”

He nods, listening to you for once, just holding you tightly. He was always... overly conscious of his mistakes. His past self and past behavior. He missed being younger, especially with you. He wanted to do so much more than he could with his old body. But then again, he’s sure his younger self would have done something unforgivable. He was stupid. He still was; last night had proved that, but he thought it was a little better.

“I love you…”

You pull him back enough to place a kiss to his forehead, threading your fingers through his hair.

“I love you too silly, so much.” His hands are running up and down your sides, his lips pressing into your neck. You felt so loved and safe, almost like everything that happened last night was just a dream, a bad dream, but only a dream. With Brian, you felt like a better person, which you guess was the best thing to say, because when you’re with someone you love, you’re supposed to feel like a better person… He brought out the best side of you possible, and you were beyond lucky and blessed to have him in your life, holding you in the kitchen of your London flat, the breakfast he’d made you turning cold. Breakfast that he’d fucked you  within an inch of your life next to.

“I just can’t believe you made me squirt in the kitchen Brian.. sounds like a song from fucking Aerosmith…” You chuckle brightly, kissing his nose.

Brian laughs loudly, his head thrown back against the chair.

“If Freddie’d had his way, it could’ve sounded like one of our songs. But even Roger veto’d some of the dirtier ones.” He sighs, stretching his legs a little.

“I’m actually quite proud of myself for the mess. But I’ll clean it up. Do you want to get into a bath?” He squeezes your hips, smiling up at you.

You moan at the thought of a bath, the wetness between your thighs starting to get a little nasty. “You should be very proud of yourself, maybe you can make me do that once a week from now on.”

You wriggle your eyebrows, smirking when he blushes before leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss, getting up off of his lap with shaky legs, you actually greatly resemble a baby deer.

“A bath sounds great by the way, I feel like a French whore at the moment, so some lavender bath salts would really do the trick.”

He can’t help but laugh at your unsteady gait, but quickly masks his smile when you give him a glare. He stands, walking over to put an arm around your waist and lead you up the stairs.

“Well, I’ll make you a lovely lavender bath, and while you’re doing that, I’ll clean everything up downstairs. Maybe I’ll make us some tea, too. How’s that sound?”

 You give him a pleasure filled smile, cupping his face before placing a sound kiss to his lips.

“It sounds like you’re making me the most spoiled and loved woman in the whole of London.” You giggle when he starts kissing your neck, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he dips you. “Brian! Your scruff is gonna give me beard burn.” You’re laughing hard, my heart lighter than its felt in years.

“Love, I hate to break the news to you, but I think you probably already have beard burn—everywhere.” He chuckles, kissing you once more before heading for the bathtub, busying himself with making you the nicest bath in the entire world. He had a plethora of different bath salts and bath bombs, etc, and he wanted to make everything perfect for you.

You sit on the counter, on a towel of course, watching Brian get the tub ready, feeling beyond happy and at ease. After a while he claps his hands together and helps me down, helping me into the tub.

“Godddddd, you always get these so perfect honey…” You sink into the water, allowing the smells of lavender and oranges to sooth you, the warmth of the water making your sore legs and pussy relax and feel 100x better.

“Please hurry your cleaning so you can come keep me company...” You pout at him, your eyes big and innocent. He laughs, and leans forward to give you a quick kiss, his hand threading through your hair. “I’ll try my best.”

He moves to clean himself up as well, watching you in the mirror, smiling widely when he sees your head drooping to the side. Shaking his head, he bends down beside you, bathing you while you sleep, your mouth open just a tad. Once he’s bathed you, he brushes a strand of hair from your forehead and grabs a bath pillow from the cabinet, for once incredibly excited that you had such an obsession with bath gadgets. Propping your head up, and once he’s satisfied that you wouldn’t drown, he stands, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees, before heading to the door. Brian spares you another look, smiling fondly… Sure, things were tough, it wasn’t going to be an easy go of things… but he didn’t care. Last night, the earth shattering pain he’d felt when you ran out, it only confirmed to him that he couldn’t live without you, and he knew you wouldn’t let him.

tags: @meddows-taylors @toomuchlove-willkillyou @brianmayoucease @leah-halliwell92 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @mariekuuuuuh @unofficialbillnye @stephydearestxo @goodoldfashioned-rogerboy @danamaleksworld @dereones98 @glasgowkisschelseasmile @awkwardangelshezza @bellamy1998 @psychosupernatural @warren-lauren @womanwithahotdogstand @oujiacallme @harrisunn @anotheronebitesthedeaks @stormtrprinstilettos @get-on-your-bikes-and-ride @amor-libre @marymaia00 @ellywritesfics @simonedk @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @sam-mercury-sixx @horrorsinwonderland @toomuchtellyneck @asgardianvamp21 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @marvelstuck @softboydeacon @a-queen-on-her-throne @roger-bang-the-drum @frannyxc @mrsmazzellotaylor @reedusteinrambles @drowseoftaylor @doubledeaky @indieblair @freddiedearfriend @subbysharkbabe

[zontiky]

Okay but au where they're not all related and five is a mysterious orphan Diego keeps running into at odd hours of the night and then him just being like "fuck it he's like 13 he can't be out alone at night" and then just takes him home like a godamn stray and five is THRIVING under the positive attention he never had I beg of you please feed my soul. Also sorry if this doesn't make sense I've had 2 hours of sleep and like 8 coffees today

i think i’ve read a fic similar to this but FUCK YEAH let’s do this (sorry im so late btw i havent been feeling bullet points lately fksjdfks) ALSO HEY OP PLEASE DON’T DIE I HOPE YOU’RE OK??? 

so diego is still a cop and he’s patrolling or doing whatever it is that cops do, and then he sees a kid sitting in an alley

obviously he pulls over like “hey kid you okay?” and the kid is like “shut up go away bootlicker” and diego is instantly “okay then come on im taking you to get food”

the kid doesn’t want to go but at the same time diego can tell he knows that there’s really no better options. this child looks hungry

so the kid and diego go to griddy’s and the kid says his name is five when asked

“that’s not a name”

“is too”

diego+fam have a long history of trauma and reginald called them by number which was their birth order or something? idk OH SHIT WAIT YOU SAID NOT ALL RELATED OK OK COOL SO

luther is a mechanic who diego knows because he’s the dude who’s often the one repairing his car, they’re on pretty good terms and go out for coffee sometimes because luther hates alcohol and diego’s body is a temple so he doesn’t drink

diego is diego he’s a cop but he’s highkey broke and i really don’t know how much cops get paid? hm

ok google says from 34.6k - 89.4k a year and numbers mean nothing to me so lets say he’s just a gremlin who lives in a boiler room because it’s efficient

OR he’s still dating eudora and lives with her

you know what that’s probably the better option i’m gonna go with that. they don’t have as much childhood trauma even though none of the “siblings” come from exactly good homes? but none of them were raised by reggie mcfuckface so it’s less like,,, bad even though they’re all fucked up

WAIT DO THEY HAVE THEIR POWERS

HELL YEAH THEY HAVE THEIR POWERS

ok ok so luther is a mechanic who uses his super strength and endurance to just fucking carry cars around his garage and i know NOTHING about mechanics as a profession but but but luther is good at what he does

diego is a cop who lives with eudora and throws knives like a boss. he also throws tennis balls really hard because stabbing people on duty isn’t advised

you know what? i’m gonna say allison ISNT a movie star, shes a smaller actress with minor roles here and there because she’s a mom and spends time with claire. she doesn’t use her rumor as much because honestly she doesn’t see a reason to? like sometimes she’ll go “i heard a rumor you gave me a free shot of coffee” and like,,, that’s it shfskd

her and patrick are still divorced but that’s because they did it the healthy way. they knew they were drifting apart but instead of rumoring him they broke it off mutually and they still meet up for coffee. they’re friends ok. claire loves her parents

klaus! klaus has problems but because im a soft bitch dave is here in 2019. he’s… also a mechanic…. they all know eachother but dave knows luther and diego pretty well. luther via work and diego via luther

yes klaus! so klaus has a history of drugs and addiction, because while he wasn’t shoved into a mausoleum ghosts screaming at you all the fucking time doesn’t help with staying sober

but because he has a support network he can fall back on he’s doing well, he’s a barista in a coffee shop that allison and patrick & diego and luther frequent

shoutout to klaus

five is an orphan he’s 13 and small and kind of a genius? fuck what if as a kid five accidentally time-traveled to 2019 and thaT’S HOW HE BECAME AN ORPHAN 

galaxy brain

so five is this kid in the wrong time living on the streets not knowing how things work

i mean he does obviously because he catches on quick and he’s smart but really he doesn’t know how some shit works ok. he’s clueless when it comes to technology and pop culture and shit

ben!! ben is alive!! he’s a part time writer and a full time librarian!! he knows klaus because during his homeless days klaus stuck around the library because free bathrooms and also reading to take his mind off the ghosts. they become really close and ben gets klaus to move in with him and then he’s trying to get sober and then ben’s car crashes and that’s how they meet luther and dave OHHHH

additionally: klaus illustrates some of ben’s books because he knows how to draw yay

vanya! she’s first chair in the orchestra and she’s dating helen cho because i say so

so vanya kicks ass at violin, she’s being gay teaching lessons all that good shit what more is there to say

harold isn’t here because there was never an umbrella academy

hmmm back to the,,, actual plot,,, im sorry sksfhdjsk

SO DIEGO FINDS FIVE RIGHT

AND HE’S LIKE “oh no this child is awakening my paternal instincts oh no i have to take him home with me now”

eudora opening the door to see her husband boyfriend with an angry looking teenager at his side: dear god what did you do this time

eudora instantly bonds with five and i mean INSTANTLY like she lays eyes on him and goes “child?? small?? looks lonely?? must protect” and five looks at her like “badass looking lady she probably knows what shes doing might as well ask for info and stuff” but hes actually thinking “oh dang she looks like she knows what she’s doing RESPECT” and yeah ksdjhsdkf

then five expects them to be mean or just get tired of him and kick him out but?? they dont??? wack

diego is instantly like “kid where do you live”

‘um’

“you live somewhere right???”

‘UM’

they find out he’s legally dead and thats another can of worms entirely

so they register and foster five

diego and eudora are registered foster parents you cannot change my mind alright

then five is introduced to luther and dave, and also ben and klaus because theyre hanging around the shop bc it’s their off day

so five instantly has 4 more people giving him instant love and validation and he’s like “woah”

THEN ALLISON AND PATRICK

claire too,, claire immediately adopts five as her older brother

this entire time five is like “i can’t stay im gonna leave soon you all know this right” and eveybody is “yep ok sure” but they all know hes gonna stay

hhHHHH GAME NIGHTS

five beats everybody at scrabble

diego beats everybody at darts, even though everybody calls him out for cheating

vanya beats everybody at musical chairs. she levitates the chairs so nobody can sit down

luther beats everybody at outdoor games. do not play tag with this man you might not make it out alive

allison is the QUEEN of blurt! 

ben is so good at charades it’s unfair

klaus honestly sucks at board games, but he always wins uno and nobody knows how (its the ghosts skfhsdkf)

five is so confused because its obvious all of them are cheating but??? nobody cares?? what

“it’s because it’s fun nobody is actually upset”

whaaaaaaat

so they have to explain to him that they dont play to win they play to have fun and its just a fun thing they do to spend time together and bond

five: mind blown

THEY TAKE HIM TO AN AQUARIUM

BEN JUST CHILLS WITH THE OCTOPI THE ENTIRE TIME

FIVE BONDS WITH CRABS

THEY ALL LOVE SEALS

five gets exposed to modern culture!! klaus and ben teach him memes is what i’m saying 

five goes to school!!! he makes friends!!!! they have nice sleepovers and diego and eudora make them cookies :’)

i want to say. okay so.

reginald exists and he had made grace eariler as preparation for the children he was going to adopt, but he died before he could buy any babies

so grace exists! and!! she knows the “siblings”!!!

so five has a grandma because im not going to lie grace is basically all of their’s mom

she lives in the mansion but she can go outside and DO THINGS and she makes them COOKIES and she LOVES HER KIDS and GRANDKIDS and five ADORES her ok

basically five is happy with his pseudo family that’s it thank you for your time

wait no actually he figures out how to time travel safely and he does go back and forth

sometimes he pops in and he’s like “hey we ran out of milk” and then a second later he’s like “for the love of god wait until tomorrow to get milk dont ask why you dont wanna know” and its obvious that he came back from the future and HHHHHH YES

the commission can’t do shit because found family love is simply too strong

hazel and agnes are the nice couple who run griddys and birdwatch

five is fond of them too honestly like he just loves going to griddys because it has so many happy memories for him and its where he met diego (sorta) and also yay hazel and agnes!!

SO YEAH BASICALLY: FIVE IS HAPPY AND THIS AU IS GOD TIER THANK YOU

THIS IS A GOOD ONE I LIKE THIS AU THANK YOU

[thirteen-beaxhes]

Somebody Else (Tyrus One-Shot)

Summary:

"Cyrus turned to the door that had creaked open, knowing he should have felt reassured by the face that peeked through, looking at him with concern. Hell, 3 months ago he would’ve immediately let loose all tension, walked over to him and sunk in his arms, forgetting everything that was tying him up in a ball of stress.

But this wasn’t 3 months ago. This was now, and seeing that face, at that time, when he was questioning everything, he knew."

Loosely based on the song 'You're Somebody Else' by flora cash

Words: 3254

thank you to @indubitablywrong for helping me out!!!

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

~~~~~~~

Pressure.

Wasn’t it supposed to be the feeling of weight, pressing down on your chest, suffocating you? Gripped around your heart like a black vice?

So then why did Cyrus feel instead that he was being pulled apart? Like he was a piece of elastic tied to two sticks being tugged and tugged and tugged, stretched thin in the middle? Like he was going to snap at any second, breaking and tearing his world apart?

Because that was what he thought, groaning loudly, as he leaned back against his chair, bending back, the harsh light of his study desk illuminating his scattered papers and almost-negatively charged laptop. His head felt like a supernova had decided to cram its way into the spaces between his skull and his brain, filling up his body in blinding pain. The room was dark, and Cyrus had somehow been lucky enough to get his own room, so there was no roommate to worry about.

He slumped forward, the vibrating of his phone drilling a bore in his mind right above his nose, ramming pain all the way in. He hadn’t slept in what felt like aeons, and every fibre of his body wanted to pick himself up off the chair and collapse into bed. Alone. But he couldn’t do that. Because there was drama club, and the magazine, and the newsletter and not to forget his coursework, and goddamn it there was the pressure again, tearing him up bit by bit by bit.

He could just send one text…

No, it was too hard.

But he was just a building over….

But he was never around, never free. Neither was Cyrus, really. They rarely got to see each other, except for their regularly scheduled date nights twice a month where every time they met, the dates grew shorter and shorter.

So basically, he wasn’t texting him because it wasn’t working out.

So then what was the point of him being at that university when the whole point of him choosing it was to stay close to him?

Cyrus shook his head, ignoring the dull muscle ache in his neck. He couldn’t think about that. His hand itched for the phone, half of him pulling him toward it with millions of tiny invisible hands, pushing to send just one text to the name that used to hold a million hearts after the contact name, but now was just a word. But the other half of him had cuffed his wrists to the table, keeping him locked there, knowing that if he sent that text, one thing would lead to another and everything would crumble around him, scattering like tiny pieces, mixing in with the dust that floated in the air during the day when the sunlight wafted in through the windows. But in the end, he didn’t need to send the text.

Because the storm had been building the past 3 months, each raindrop, each bit of debris soaked up into a big black cloud. Every silent streak, every ignored call, every skipped date, every time they let each other go a bit more, all accumulated into a ball of lightning and thunder, tied up in an ugly knot in that same black cloud. A cloud that now stood at Cyrus’ door, with all the fury straining and fighting to get out.

And it was about to.

���Cy?”

Fuck.

Cyrus turned to the door that had creaked open, knowing he should have felt reassured by the face that peeked through, looking at him with concern. Hell, 3 months ago he would’ve immediately let loose all tension, walked over to him and sunk in his arms, forgetting everything that was tying him up in a ball of stress.

But this wasn’t 3 months ago. This  was now, and seeing that face, at that time, when he was questioning everything, he knew.

Cyrus knew it was the end.

So he stifled a sigh and got up from his chair.

“Hey Teej.”

TJ walked in, switching on the light of the room as he walked in. He stood to the side, opposite Cyrus, hands stuffed in his pockets as he balanced on the balls of his feet. The distance between them was so, so much. They never used to be like this, they never had this distance between them. But now here they were, on opposite sides, facing each other with no words to say to the person they loved so dearly.

Cyrus kept his gaze down, scratching through the skin on the inside of his thumb, already drawing blood, but he couldn’t stop. He gnawed on his lips, his teeth hitting an open cut and he almost let out a hiss, but he was used to it. There was nothing else he could do, because TJ wasn’t moving or saying anything, and he didn’t know what to say or do, because they hadn’t been alone in a room without other people for more than 6 weeks, and they had only seen each other on their date nights, in a café or a restaurant, surrounded by loud crowds as they shrank into silence within 10 minutes. Finally, he caved, asking the question clawing at the back of his mind.

“What are you doing here?”

TJ looked up, startled out of his own thoughts. Only then, Cyrus realised he had been muttering to himself all the while Cyrus was looking down. He had been pulling at his hoodie (another stupid basketball one) as he appeared to rehearse something in his mind. He coughed slightly, wiping his nose. “I, you didn’t answer your phone. So I came to check on you.”

Cyrus huffed softly, picking up his phone, exhaling as he saw the 35 missed calls. “Sorry I, I was busy,’ he said quietly, setting down the phone on the scattered papers and books. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing what was coming, because he had just added the last drop of rain to the thundercloud, and it was one drop too many. And now it was going to burst.

He heard a light scoff, and opened his eyes, looking at TJ, who was turning away. “Yeah. You’re always busy,” he said, words dripping from his mouth like poison from spikes.

Cyrus looked down, drawing a shaky breath. “I, I’m sorry, I just have,” he muttered, nervously running his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

He sat back down, sinking into the back of his chair, his headache not helping him focus or keep his vision up. He knew the matter wasn’t over, but the small, naïve part of him wished it was, wished TJ would sigh and wrap him up in a hug, tell him it was okay and that he had nothing to be sorry. But he knew better. He had everything to be sorry for, and he knew that TJ deserved to be mad, and he knew the exact fucking words that were going to leave his mouth in 5 seconds, the ones he didn’t want to hear from TJ, but he knew he had to because he was all out of luck. He was all out of time, time that he had held in his hands like he was the owner, letting TJ believe him blindly. But he had to give it up. Because he needed to face the words.

“We need to talk, Cyrus.”

There it was.

Cyrus gulped, pushing himself off the chair, walking over to the side of the room where TJ stood, but still keeping too much space between them. He kept his eyes down, the rug’s hues blinding and captivating him, taking him away, anywhere but where he was. The small kid still stuck inside him hoped that when he sat down, grabbing TJ’s hand and pulling him down like at a sleepover, the rug would become their magic carpet, flying them away to a future where they made it, where college was a place where even though they were plagued by stress, they would find an anchor in each other. They would fly by graduation, smiling together as their parents cried over photographs. They’d dance through their futures, sailing down the aisle, ending up together, sitting together. Holding hands as their grandkids played in their backyard as the barbeque smoke wafted through the air. Together. That was what he wanted to fly to, holding TJ’s hand, trapping his fears there. But that was a fantasy. And Cyrus had to wake up.

So he looked up, tears already brimming. And TJ was looking away, playing with his fingers. And Cyrus knew that he was itching to grab Cyrus’ hand, just like was itching to grab TJ’s. But they couldn’t do that, it would just make it harder.

They both just stood there, unsure of who should start. How does one pick up the sledgehammer and strike the first blow into a relationship?

It wasn’t the first blow. It was the first of the last blows. The foundations were blown. Now just to tip it the right way.

TJ finally sucked in a deep breath. “Cyrus, I,” he started, his voice choked with unsaid words and wasted tears. “When we,” he started again, looking up to hold back tears from falling, words wavering. “When you told me you’re going to the same college as me, I, I felt so happy. I remember, I, I, spun you around just crying of happiness,” he smiled sadly to himself, spinning his fingers, Cyrus’ memory pulling that visual to the forefront of his mind. “I thought, ‘This is amazing! I’ll see Cy and we’ll make it through college together,’ and I just felt happy,” TJ laughed to himself, wiping away a stray tear. But his smile fell. “But, even then you started to slip away. You just, you looked like you were pushing a smile on your face. And every time I saw you drop your smile when you thought I wasn’t looking, it fucking killed me,” he said quietly, voice breaking like glass falling on the ground. TJ looked up, tears now flowing down his face like a polluted river, a barrage of water coming to drown Cyrus, choking him and dragging him along with the current. “And then,” he continued cruelly, shrugging. “As soon as we got here, it seemed like you took everything you could to keep yourself busy, to keep me away.”

“That’s not,” Cyrus tried to speak up, his voice small, but TJ ignored him, pushing ahead painfully.

“And it worked,” he sniffed, rubbing his red nose. “I got busy too, trying to fill the time you used to hold. But you never left my mind, and that fucking sucked. Because in my mind we were okay, and I still dreamed of walking down the fucking aisle with you,” TJ almost yelped. “But out here,” he said forcefully, his words growing louder and louder. “We barely even look at each other during our so-called dates! So tell me, if that’s us being fucking okay Cyrus!” he broke into a yell, immediately pulling his voice back, leaning against the wall, heaving as if all the breath had been knocked out of him.

Cyrus pressed his hand to his mouth to stop the whimper that was leaving his lips. He looked down, tears filling up his vision, keeping him feeling like he was underwater, being dragged further down. “TJ, I,” he whimpered, unable to find words to tell him, to explain, to fight for them. But there was nothing.

“I love you Cyrus,” TJ said quietly, his voice heavy. “But I can’t do this. I, I can’t keep doing this.”

That should have been the end, the final words, and they both would walk away and break down alone. But for some reason, this small part of Cyrus, the part that had been muscled down by pressure and guilt and stress, the part that led Cyrus to trust TJ the first day on those swings, to grab that shirt from the MintChip sale to go to him, the one that pushed him to look for TJ in Andi’s backyard that fateful party, wrestled its way out. And that part wanted to fight for TJ to stay, for them to stay together, to try and stop him from leaving.

“TJ, I,” he said, grabbing him by the arm, immediately letting go. God even grabbing each other’s arms had become weird. “I’m sorry, just please don’t leave, we, we can work this out! I’m sorry I’m so busy, but, but it’s not because I wanna stay away from you! I love you, I love you so fucking much, that’s why I decided to come here instead, so I could stay with you. TJ, please we can work this out, just don’t leave,” he said in one breath, tears pricking his eyes, some even rolling down as his voice grew higher and higher the more he felt the panic rise up, bubbling like an angry ocean.

But TJ just stopped, looking up slowly, eyes red and puffy. But his expression was cold and accusing, and Cyrus felt a shiver run down his spine. He had never looked at him like that before.

“What do you mean you chose to come here instead?”

Cyrus seized up, moving back. No no no not that question. Why did he have to ask that question? Why did he have to catch that? “W-What do you mean?” he said, letting out a short laugh.

“Cyrus,” TJ said plainly, looking at him painfully. And Cyrus caved, letting a tear slip out as he looked down.

“I applied here at the last minute, when you said you were going after you got your early action,” he whispered, gulping the knot that had built up in his throat. “I actually got into Stanford like I wanted to, but I rejected it.”

“What?” TJ whispered, and Cyrus squeezed his eyes shut, his face scrunching up as he felt the sobs hiding behind the thinly veiled curtain of his control. “You got into the place you wanted to, and just decided to say fuck it and apply last-minute here?” he asked, walking forward, up to Cyrus. “What, because I was here? What the fuck Cyrus? You told me you didn’t get it anywhere so that’s why you were applying here!” he said loudly, and Cyrus flinched, looking away.

“If I told you why you would’ve made me go to Stanford,” he said quietly, and TJ scoffed loudly.

“Cyrus, Stanford was your dream! And you gave it up just because of me!” TJ said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he paced back and forth. “And worse than that, you lied to me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry,” Cyrus pleaded, walking up to TJ, reaching out to cup his cheeks as tears rolled down his face fast, faster than his heart’s racing beat. “I just wanted to be with you TJ, please understand. I, I love you and I couldn’t, just leave,” he continued, as TJ pushed his hands away and he sniffed loudly, trying to wipe away the tears, his breath hitching more and more. He couldn’t find any air to breathe, but he had to find it in himself to gain control, because TJ was there, angry with him, and he had to get him to not hate him. “I just wanted to be with you.”

“Cyrus, that isn’t like you!” TJ said, turning around, eyes red as tears brimmed in them. “You’re the kind of person to know their dreams and then somehow make it happen. That’s who you are! You’re set in your decisions!” TJ ran his fingers through his hair, looking away. “You, you’re right here, and I don’t even recognise you! You’re somebody else!”

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus whimpered, leaning against his chair, chest heaving as sobs started to escape his lips, and he tried to hold them back, he really did. But the dam had broken, the last brick knocked out as the water poured, storming and flooding everything it touched. But Cyrus looked up and saw TJ leaning against the wall, tears streaming down his face as he breathed heavily. Both their dams had broken, and they used to be able to fix each other, to repair every crack impeccably. But now, they both had lost each other’s blueprints.

Cyrus looked at TJ, who looked up to look at him, eyes shining in the white dorm light with the tears that stood till there. And all the fight that small part of him had left him, knowing that this was the end.

So, Cyrus crossed the room, each step feeling like walking on burning coals, the broken glass scattered across the floor. He walked up to TJ, the black cloud stopping its thunder and lightning, the theatrics and horror and fury over. All that was left was rain. Cold, cold rain. Pouring down in buckets, drenching the rubble of their relationship. Cyrus could almost feel the rain as he cupped TJ’s tear-stained cheek. He could barely see over the teardrops hiding his eyes, but it didn’t matter anymore. It was the rain, after all. Rain hid everything.

So Cyrus kissed TJ, pulling him to him, kissing him with all the emotion he had lost over the past 3 months. He tried to get TJ to feel what he wanted to say.

He had fucked up.

He loved him more than anything.

He was sorry.

He was sorry.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Goodbye. And TJ kissed him back equally fiercely, trying to say the same things back, trying to make Cyrus realise that this was inevitable, that this wasn’t just him, or just TJ, it was both of them. That he was sorry.

When they pulled away, cheeks wet and out of breath, they hugged each other, both too scared to let go, to strike the last blow. But eventually, they had to.

They pulled away, and Cyrus nodded, letting the tears fall down as TJ caressed his cheek one last time, walking out the door, closing it behind him with a soft lock.

And the dam broke again, and Cyrus collapsed to the ground, screaming as tears formed a river. And he screamed and screamed and screamed until there was no more air in his lungs and his voice cried for him to stop.

On the other side of campus, TJ did the same, and Marty pleaded at his door, trying to get him to open it. But he just screamed and cried, punching the wall every now and then until his knuckles were raw and it hurt to move them.

And the rain poured around the rubble, and Cyrus and TJ let themselves get drenched, not bothering for an umbrella as they let it pour around them. But with it was the feeling of a weight being lifted, and pressure’s stretch lessened ever so slightly.

Because this had been inevitable.

They would be okay. Not soon. Maybe they would look back every now and then, a pang of regret in their heart. And Cyrus would remember TJ in every hoodie he touched as he strolled through a store, and every time he would walk into a bakery and see a blueberry macadamia muffin. And TJ would remember Cyrus in every swingset he would pass, and every time someone offered him a chocolate chocolate chip muffin.

They would be okay. But for then, they would let the storm pour down on them.

~~~~~~~~

sorry not sorry

General Taglist:

@imhereforthetryus @thelonious-jagger-smitten @youve-got-to-be-kippen-me @tjskipping @luzawithoutu 

Taglist for this fic: 

@bambiandambi @tyrus-and-the-swings @tylercamebackyes @heart-eyes-kippen 

[timehealsfanfictionbka]

Time Heals.....Chapter Forty-Nine

Robyn yawned as she turned onto her left side in the bed. Right after she turned, she felt a warmth cuddle up close to her before a whisper flowed past her ear, “I don’t like you turning your back on me,”

“I’m trying to get comfortable, for your information.”

“Well excuse me, Ms. Fenty.”

Robyn laughed, “you are getting way too comfortable being here.”

“Hey, you invited me over.”

“No, your daughters invited you over. I just didn’t say no.”

“Nice way of splitting hairs but you did invite me into your room.”

“Only because we’ve already been sleeping in the same bed, I doubt the girls would get suspicious or confused if you did sleep in the bed with me.”

“Always using our daughters as an excuse. Tuh.”

“You can always go downstairs and sleep on the couch.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Ok then, shut up and go back to sleep.”

Chris let go a low growl and grabbed Robyn around her waist to pull her on top of him. Robyn squealed as she squirmed in his arms, “Babe, stop playing.”

“Then stop being rude.”

“You the one bothering me at 4 in the morning. I got a right to be rude.”

Chris flipped her onto her back then hovered over her, placing his weight on his hands, “you get on my nerves.”

“You get on my nerves. I would like to go back to sleep if you don’t mind.”

“Nah, I mind.”

Robyn laughed and Chris kissed her lips, “don’t try and butter me up now. You’re keeping me from sleeping.”

“You can go to sleep but you can’t turn your back to me.”

“Ugh...you’re annoying. Fine.”

Chris smiled and kissed her again before laying his head against her chest. Robyn ran her fingers through his hair, “Babe, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do the girls really invite you or do you just show up over here?”

“Yes, they really invite me. I think we spoiled them that week you stayed at my house.”

“I don’t understand how, it was only one time.”

“It only takes one time. You know how much they want us together all the time. They just really liked having us all under one roof.”

Robyn sighed, “I knew it was a bad idea.”

“I mean you liked it too.”

“I did but not like a permanent thing.”

“Why-”

“I’m not moving in with you unless we’re married. And I’m not ready to get married again. We talked about this.”

“We did. I just- nevermind.”

“Chris, you’re still taking my not wanting to get married personal, when you shouldn’t. It’s really not about you.”

“You say that but I’m the one you’re rejecting.”

“I’m not rejecting you. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yea.”

“So what are you talking about?”

“Robyn, it’s not the same and you know that.”

“I think we may need to kill these little sleepovers. I love them but it’s giving the girls false hope.”

“You couldn’t wait until I was gonna leave on Sunday before dropping this bomb on me.”

Robyn chuckled and shrugged, “we were already talking about it, might as well get it out of the way.”

“You like hurting me, don’t you?”

“What? Of course not. I just don’t like to lie to you.”

“I can appreciate that.”

“Honestly, I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you or that I don’t like having you around because I do. I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea and I don’t want to feel like I’m saying one thing but doing another.”

“Seriously, do you really think I can’t take no for an answer?”

“I’m not saying you can’t”

“So why do you keep explaining that you don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea? Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Do not try to analyze me. I said what I said.”

Chris laughed, “I’m just saying, you’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

“But it is a big deal and when I say it’s not a big deal, you say that it is. Don’t try to confuse me.”

“Why so angry, Ms. Fenty?”

“It’s too early for you to be playing with me, Christopher.”

“I mean I haven't really started playing with you but I can. I mean you only got on some pajama shorts.”

“Not having sex with you.”

“That’s not sex.”

“Not having foreplay with you either. You on punishment.”

“Why? What I do?”

“Get on my nerves.”

“I always get on your nerves, so what’s the difference now?”

“Because I said so, Mr. Brown.”

“That’s not fair, Robyn.”

“I don’t care, Christopher.”

Chris poked her side and Robyn flicked his ear, “what time is it, Babe?”

Robyn looked over at her alarm clock, “It is 5:10 am.”

“Did you tell the girls where we’re going for the next week?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll find out soon enough. Surprised your job gave you the whole week off, Mr. Work Hard, Play Hard.”

“Well since I’ve been with you, I’ve been playing it safe, Ms. Homebody.”

“Nobody said you couldn’t go out.”

“I know but I wanna go out with you.”

“Don’t start.”

“Why won’t you accept my affection, Robyn?”

“I do accept your affection. It’s your whining, I don’t like.”

“Oh shut up.”

Robyn laughed, “I’m guessing we’re not going back to sleep anytime soon.”

“I go to sleep when you go to sleep.”

“I figured you would’ve knocked out once you start laying on my chest, it normally puts you right to sleep.”

“True but then you started talking to me so I was giving you my full attention.”

“Well I’m tired and our flight is a late one so I’m going to sleep. Night Babe.

“Night.”

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my God, Daddy, it looks just like the commercials,” Erin and Erica exclaimed as they stared out the back passenger windows at the resort. Chris chuckled as he clicked on his turn signal and merged into the left turning lane, “you really expected something different?”

“You know some places always look good in advertisements but are dumps in real life,” Erica replied matter-of-factly.

Chris glanced over at Robyn, who covered her laugh with her mouth, “that is all you, Robs.”

“Shut up,” she murmured as she hit his arm.

“Can we get in the pool once we get to the villa?” Erin asked.

“We have been on a plane all afternoon and it is getting close to dinner time. We got plenty of time to get in the pool on another day, ok?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

About fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of a one level house. Robyn turned to Chris as her brow furrowed, “Babe, this doesn’t look like a villa.”

“Because it’s not. I rented a house on the resort property.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very serious. It really does pay to know people.”

“Chris, who’s house is this?”

“Ms. Jasmine’s. She comes here during the summer to be close to her grandkids. When I mentioned we were bringing the girls to Disney World, she let me rent it for the week from her.”

“How much?”

“Not telling you.”

“You better be paying her a decent price.”

“You really think I’d take advantage of Ms. Jasmine like that?”

“No but then again I don’t know.”

Chris chuckled, “stop being suspicious and just get out the car.”

Chris rolled up the windows before turning off the ignition, “everybody follow me to see inside then we’ll get the bags.

They all climbed out of the car and followed Chris to the front door. He pulled a separate key ring out of his pocket and unlocked the doors. Robyn gasped as she walked inside, “This is beautiful.”

“Yea, I wasn’t expecting all of this.”

The marble flooring gleamed beneath their feet as they made their way around the house.

“We really need to call Ms. Jasmine and thank her. This is way more than I expected,” Robyn murmured.

Chris grabbed his phone and dialed her desk number. It rang a few times before she answered, “Department of Defense, Jasmine Wiles.”

“Hi Ms. Jasmine.”

“Christopher. Did you make it safely?”

“Yes Ma’am but you didn’t tell me everything about this house.”

Jasmine chuckled, “Boy, don’t say it like that. I’m not a millionaire or nothing. My son-in-law is the property developer and gave me a break on the sale.”

“Oh ok Lady Chapo.”

“Christopher, enjoy that family of yours and get off my phone.”

Chris laughed, “Yes Ma’am. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Chris hung up and turned to Robyn, “you know what you want to eat? I can bring the bags in and go grab something.”

“I think Pizza would be good but we can get delivery. You’ve got to be tired.”

“I’m good, Babe.”

Robyn shook her head as she moved to touch his face, “you’ve been on the plane just as long as us and you drove us here. We will get delivery. You need help getting the bags?”

“Nope, I got it. I’m guessing the girls found their room.”

“Of course they did but they are quiet.”

“They are either asleep or watching TV. Either way they are preoccupied.”

Robyn chuckled and pecked his lips, “get the bags. I’ll order the food.”

Chris left back out to the car while Robyn went to find the twins. She stepped into a bedroom on the left side of the hallway and they were spread out on the bed, watching cartoons, “you girls ok with pizza?”

Erin and Erica turned and nodded their heads. Robyn sighed as she left back to the living room and plopped down on the couch. She looked up a pizza shop and called them as she watched Chris bring in their luggage. Once he was done, he laid down on the couch next to her with his head  in her lap. 

“You ok, Babe.”

“I’m good. Wake me up when the food gets here.”

“Will do.”

Robyn kissed his forehead then rested her head against a couch pillow as she waited for the food to be delivered.

                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mommy, are we going to the park tomorrow?” Erica asked as Robyn started taking out her braids. 

“I’m surprised you have any energy left since you guys swam all day.”

Erin laughed, “who doesn’t have the energy for Disney World.”

“That is very true.”

“Mommy, can I ask you something?”

“Sure Sweetie. What’s up?”

“Are you and DAddy getting married?”

“Well...not right now. Why do you ask?”

“Well Amber at my school said her mom just got married and she got to be the flower girl in the wedding.”

“Really?”

“Yup. And I want to be the flower girl when you and Daddy get married.”

“Well Dollface, it is a given that one of you will be the flower girl and the other will be the ring bearer.”

“Aren’t boys supposed to be ring bearers?”

“No besides it’s not like we have any boys.”

“You could make one.”

Robyn looked down at Erin and laughed, “you are really pushing this baby and marriage stuff, huh?

“I just think it’d be really cool to have a baby brother.”

“If you did get a baby brother, what would you name him?”

“I would name him Samir.”

“Samir? That’s unexpected. Why that name?”

“I like the way it sounds.”

“It is cute.”

“Mommy, has Daddy asked you to marry him yet?”

“No but I haven’t exactly started that conversation with him.”

“Because of him?”

“Because of me. Things like that take time. You shouldn’t do things if you aren’t ready.”

“I guess that’s a good reason but can you still have another baby in the meantime?”

Robyn laughed, “Erin, babies are more permanent than a husband, if I’m not ready to get married, I’m not ready to have another baby.”

“Oh. But you will think about it.”

“I’ll think about it. Just for you.”

“Yay.”

“Ok, come on. We need to get your hair washed, all that chlorine needs to go.”

“Can you give me a braid out?”

“You sure you wanna do that? It’s gonna be hot and I don’t think you’ll want all that hair on your neck.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“I’ll give you a braided bun and we’ll see how it works out, ok?”

“Ok Mommy.”

Robyn led her to the kitchen to wash her hair.