#i am sick and need rest. but sure. let your dog keep barking and being unleashed so you have to scream for it to come back.

[kagedbird]

i fucking hate poorly trained dog owners.

[allsassnoclass]

hello! congrats on reaching your follower milestone! could i request the prompt "The intimacy of feeling someone’s warmth through their clothes when you hug" for roylum? also i would love a picture of your dog if you have any to spare! 🦥

hello sloth anon! your penny pics were posted a few weeks ago here, and now here is the prompt!

roylum: the intimacy of feeling someone’s warmth through their clothes when you hug

The sun is just about to set on the horizon when Calum finally waves goodbye to his taxi driver, safe on his front stoop after a long day of trying to get here.  His backpack rests heavy on his shoulders, his suitcase near-bursting at his side, and his stomach chooses that moment to give an unsubtle rumble.

He needs to eat something for dinner and sleep for about five weeks.  First, though, he needs to get inside.

The front entryway is dim, even with the large windows positioned to let in as much sunlight as possible.  Calum drops his backpack with a thunk, pushing his suitcase to the side and kicking off his slides haphazardly in the pile of other shoes left near the door.  He strains his ears for any signs of life, and after a moment the silence is broken by the skitter of Duke's nails on the floor and the jingle of his dog tags.

Man, he's missed his dog.  He saw him less than a month ago, before they went to England to start the album promo cycle, but it still feels like too long.

Duke starts barking before he rounds the corner, the howl that seems too low for his small body filling the air and Calum's heart, and Calum is right there to scoop him into his arms when he finally comes into view.

"Hey buddy," he says, sinking to the floor, Duke wriggling too much to keep a hold of.  He howls again, entire body vibrating with the force of his wagging tail, and Calum laughs, holding his head in place so he can kiss the top of it.

"I've missed you, too.  I'm back until November, and I'm going to spend every single second of it with you.  Yes I am!  Are you excited?  Isn't that exciting?"

Duke howls in agreement.  Calum laughs, scratching his fingers all along his sides, pausing once he finds the ticklish spot that makes Duke thump his leg.

"Duke?" Roy calls from somewhere down the hall, probably his bedroom.  Calum's grin doubles in size.  He kisses Duke's head again and Duke lunges at his face with his tongue out, catching Calum on the chin.  He laughs again, tilting his head back so he doesn't get dog slobber in his mouth.

Roy rounds the corner then, taking out his wireless earbuds as he does.  He's wearing a worn, oversized shirt that Calum is pretty sure used to be his, and there's a ring of pink around the collar from where his hair dye has bled.  Calum can't wait to see if the shower is still red, too.  He pauses when he sees Calum, then smiles.

"You should've called me to pick you up," he says, dropping to the floor next to him.  Duke spins around himself in the miniscule space between them, yowling again.

"With LA traffic?  Taking an airport taxi got me home faster.  I'm so fucking sick of airports."

Roy lets out a laugh, their fingers bumping together as they both pet Duke.

"The price of being a world-famous musician," he says.  "Speaking of, congrats on the album.  It's fucking sick."

"You too," Calum says, knocking their knees together.  Duke jumps over them and does a lap around them, skittering away when Roy reaches for him again.  He stares at them expectantly, tail wagging.

"I haven't fed him yet.  I think he was waiting for you," Roy says.  Calum sighs and stands, knees cracking.

"Better get him something, then.  I still need to eat, too."

"I can throw something together," Roy says, taking Calum's outstretched hand to help himself up.  "I haven't had dinner yet, either."

"Family meal," Calum hums.  He gets two steps towards the kitchen before Roy's hand tugs him back, his wiry arms wrapping around Calum's waist.  Calum fits himself against him easily, arms over Roy's shoulders, Roy's face tucked near his neck.

Calum loves the way that they fit together.  Roy is all lithe lines and sharp angles, but Calum easily molds to him, ribs slotting alongside each other and grip tight.  Roy is warm, body heat seeping through his threadbare shirt and Calum's travel tee, and Calum's sigh releases some of the aching exhaustion brought on by a day of travel, relaxing against him.

Duke whines.

"I'm allowed to hug Calum, too," Roy huffs.  Calum can imagine his playful glare at the dog.

"There's enough of me to share," he says.  Roy's hair tickles his cheek as he tilts his face down, lips landing on the juncture between Calum's neck and shoulder like a brand.

Duke barks twice.

"Give me a moment, buddy," Calum says.  Roy adjust his grip, holding him even closer, if possible.

In a minute, Calum will let go to feed his dog, and he and Roy will find something for themselves to eat for dinner.  They'll spend the night catching up on the albums and concerts and interviews of the past few weeks, then they'll both head to bed, where Calum will be able to fall asleep next to him for the first time in too long.  For now, though, Calum continues to hug him, wrapped up in the feeling of home.

[catintheruemorgue]

annoying things they do

summary: small things these guys do that just grinds your gears a bit.

characters: oda, dazai, kunikida, twain, akutagawa, atsushi, mori, poe, ranpo, fittzgerald, steinbeck, chuuya, yosano, gin, kouyou, higuchi, alcott and lucy

these are all based off things i do or have inconvenienced my life lmfao i’ll probs do a part two with everyone i missed this just got wayyy to long lol next im posting being friends with double black 

Oda:

If you're wearing shorts and have bruises he will poke them when you're resting your legs on him. He’s silent about it too and if you yell at him he pretends to act like he doesn't know what you're talking about.

Will smack your sunburn but this one is actually an accident. He just wanted to pat you on the back because you're amazing.

Will space out when you talk too long, sometimes certain objects are just so… mesmerizing

Dazai:

Loves to jumpscare you the only exception is if it was a trigger. In that case he will just call your name and whip something at you for you to catch at random.

When you're driving he likes to reach over and honk your horn. It's almost caused so many roadside fistfights.

If he sees a dog in public he will bark and growl at it.

Kunikida:

Won’t let you on the bed without socks on. You could be sick as a dog and he’ll still enforce this rule.

Cleaning is hard because he has a hard time throwing things away. You'll spend extra time as he holds two identical pens, trying to decide which one he wants to keep. He’s learned to plan certain days in his schedule for cleaning now.

Won't let you turn up the music in the car and will keep it at a level that's so low it's annoying.

Twain:

Walks around the house shirtless but then complains about how cold it is.

Blasts his music so loud when he wakes up in the morning and it's always early 2000’s hits. It's not rare for you to have Pocketful of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield stuck in your head by 9 am.

Always has to climb something, this stems from his adventurous side. It's not really that annoying but when you’re in a crowded area and he runs off to go climb the tall statue, screaming at you to take a photo… Yes it is. Especially when children try and follow him and you're stuck receiving glares from the parents.

Akutagawa:

Will not let you throw any food products out. He tells you it's a perfectly good meal (even if it's not) and that he will eat it tomorrow. It’s sad because you know this stems from childhood but it’s still annoying.

Reuses the same gross, musty ziplock baggies. You keep buying new ones but he doesn't get it lol.  

Will tell you if your breath smells, hair is messy, outfit is ugly. He does not see an issue with this and it's nice knowing someone has your back but he doesn't have to be so rude about it..

Atsushi:

If he drinks he's one of those drinkers who will not let you take it from him. Keeps an iron grip on the cup. He finishes it no matter how drunk and always throws up. Thankfully he rarely drinks.

He stops to help everyone, literally even if they just look like they need help. You've been late to so many things.

Will eat anything. Once you made steak and somehow forgot about it. It was hard as a brick yet he still almost broke his teeth eating it. You think you saw some tears as he told you it was delicious.

Mori:

Listens to people's conversations in public and isn't afraid to comment, loudly, about it. You know it's loud because they either stop talking or try and confront you guys.

Comes up to stops fast and brakes so hard you feel like he does it on purpose.

Sometimes if he and Elise get into a “disagreement” he’ll try and rope you in to take his side and you always do, knowing it would probably give him more satisfaction if you chose to side with her.

Poe:

Asks for constructive criticism but will then argue with you about why you're wrong.

Always humming a song he heard Twain singing and then it gets stuck in your head too.

Will deny stupid things like why your favorite mug is in the trash or why he just let out rather loud scream in the bathroom. You know he's lying because he looks away and makes sure his bangs are covering his eyes.

Ranpo:

Will call you out on any lie even if you don't mean to lie you just forgot about some of the details.

Don't take him grocery shopping if you have a set amount you want to spend. He won't even sneak, he will just say he wants something and throw it in the cart.

Such a backseat driver even though he can't drive.

Fitzgerald:

Likes to act like he's still in his twenties and will somehow get the two of you invited to college parties where he will attempt to do a kegger in front of everyone. You end up being the one to hold him up and he always ends with a, “LETS FUCKING GO!”

Likes to ask for the senior discount even though he's not that old, he just likes to hear the women validate that he's not old.

It’s scary how he used to buy without looking and now will scream if the price on a price tag is too high.

Steinbeck:

Always looking at the grass for wheat to chew on. It's so cheesy when you walk into the city and he's got it sticking out of his mouth.

He gets weirdly intimate with nature and you feel like you're third wheeling.

Has the mentality that he has to provide for you because he is the man. He gets so shocked when he finds out you still want to work.

Chuuya:

Has a hard time making decisions you could ask him what he wants for dinner and his mind will just break.

Gets way too pissed at movies and will actually get up and walk away. Once you were kicked out of the theater because he wouldn't stop yelling at the screen. Another time he walked out you waited a whole ten minutes before you realized he wasn't coming back.

Sometimes activates his ability at night and it's so scary waking up to him floating halfway across the room.

WOMAN TIME!!!!!!!!!!

Yosano:

Will glare at you so intensely if you say something she disagrees with.

Always tries to rope you into drinking with her even if you’ve said no the past ten nights.

Will describe wounds or injuries in such detail and just won’t stop, almost like she’s trying to fuck with you, but she’s not.

Gin:

Claims to be nothing like her big brother but then will go on to make the same facial expressions and do some of the same mannerisms as him.

Will spend hours trying things on just to put it all back, leave the store and change her mind when you’re almost home. Then she’ll have you run back with her to buy it all.

Is used to sneaking around so scares you a lot. Also on the topic of being silent sometimes she just won’t respond, thinking you can just read her vibes / mind.

Kouyou:

Will judge what you eat, especially fast food but will try and steal a fry in private when you're not looking.

Will say things like, “Well that's just the way the world works.” If someone tries to share their baggage with her. You understand she’s had a pretty rough life but it's caused you to almost spit out your drink multiple times.

At functions forgets about you for about an hour while she mingles with everyone else, you could tap on her shoulder and she'll dismiss you like you're a subordinate. Until you clear your throat again you'll see the slight blush as she apologizes.

Higuchi:

She has no sense of privacy. If she hears a crash or loud noise she will bust down the door. It’s sweet but not when the noises are usually from you knocking all the shampoo bottles down again.

Horrible road rage actually puts you on edge to be in the car with her. She doesn't even have to be driving.

Likes to act like she's a professional at everything and people usually believe it because of her suit. It's so nerve wracking when she giggles when they walk away with false information.

Alcott:

Will agree to everything you suggest but you can only tell when she doesn’t want to do it when you’re currently doing it.

Yet she’s not afraid to grumble about how annoying it is when someone bumps into you and doesn’t apologize. It’s sweet but you’re left dealing with the situation if the person is aggressive enough to say something.

Always corrects your spelling or if you say something like “I could care less.”

Lucy:

Will fish for compliments in a very obvious way like, “Wow. Wish someone would call me pretty..” and then just stare right at you.

Kicks you so violently in her sleep but won't let go of you so you cant get away.

Constantly stealing from restaurants. You're banned from a couple restaurants because she got caught trying to steal a cup or salt shaker.

[saeyoungchoismaid]

The King

Pairing: King!Lucifer x f!reader Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: uh minor character death, mention of war?, fighting, near-death experience???  Summary: Prince Lucifer, the eldest son of King Henry, has been exiled from his kingdom, but when his father becomes sick, he's supposed to become king once his father passes. The future king is to marry (Y/n) to join their kingdoms together. Instead of him becoming king though, his father chooses Lucifer’s younger brother to become the king.  Word Count: 5.3k words A/N: this fic is entirely based on the movie The King on Netflix!! I let you guys vote on who the fic would be about and most of y’all said Lucifer, so you ask and you shall receive!! If you want a better understanding to what’s going on, feel free to watch that movie!! The first part is from 13:25 and kinda just goes from there 

You feel your heart drop to your stomach when the man announces to the king, “Your majesty. Prince of Wales.” Your husband-to-be leans forward to look down the long row of men at the entrance, confirming that, yes, his brother is in fact here. After all this time. 

“My son,” the king starts, “come in.” You rise with the rest of the crowd, suddenly finding it hard to breathe as he walks down the aisle to the king’s throne, your hands starting to shake from nerves. Just how long has it been? Lucifer stops a little ways away from you, his eyes trained on his father. You could hear a dog barking outside the castle from how quiet it is in the room. 

You stop breathing when his eyes flicker to the right to look at his brother, only to freeze when they spot you right by his side. You stare right back at him, the sound of your heartbeat filling your ears. Both of you look away from each other when the king takes in a deep inhale before speaking. 

“I feel my life nearing its natural end, and yet, still even I must appear of ruder health than you.” He pauses and you watch as Lucifer blankly stares in his father’s direction but not actually looking at him. “The time has come for us to consider the issue of my succession,” the King announces, ending the sentence with a cough. This part makes you feel sick suddenly. 

Lucifer doesn’t know yet of his father’s decision? 

“You will not be king,” he states abruptly. Lucifer doesn’t react physically but you can tell, just by his eyes, that he is surprised, and maybe a bit disappointed, by this news. “While you are my eldest son, for reasons that are on display for all here to see, you will not inherit this crown.”

“Nor have I sought it,” Lucifer quips before you can even blink, venom dripping from his words. 

“That privilege and responsibility will instead fall to your brother Leviathan,” the king informs him. At the mention of his name, Leviathan sits up straighter. Lucifer’s eyes move to him before once again finding yours, his brother not seeming to notice the look Lucifer gives you. Well, he didn’t really give you a look, per se. Again, it’s in the eyes. 

I guess he’s starting to catch on to where this is heading. 

“He is soft, but he is eager. He will lead my army against the newly treasonous Solomon.” Your eyes flicker to your fiance, seeing him take a deep breath and look down. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’s nervous about tomorrow. He wants to serve his father and make him proud. “I will assume that this news comes as neither surprise nor disappointment.” When you look away from Leviathan to focus back on the king and Lucifer, you find that Lucifer is, once again, staring at you. 

His gaze makes you feel pinned to your spot, air having a hard time finding its way to your lungs. “But it is my duty as king and father to say it to you directly.” His eyes finally leave yours to focus back on his brother, his eyes now pinning him to the floor. 

“And what of miss (L/n)?” Lucifer asks, your heart lodging in your throat at the mention of your name. All eyes turn to you but you can’t take your eyes off of those piercing, dark eyes. 

“Miss (L/n) is the bride to be of the next king, you know this,” King Henry informs. To prove his point, Leviathan reaches down and gently clasps your hand in his. You just hope that Leviathan doesn’t feel how clammy your hands are from how nervous you feel. You watch as Lucifer’s eyes flicker down to your conjoined hands, his own hands balling up into fists. 

“When do you fight?” he asks softly his younger brother, suddenly changing the subject.

“I set off tomorrow,” he informs, hand tightening on yours. “We fight by week’s end.”

“You need not fight. These feuds need not be yours,” Lucifer reassures instantly. You can see the fear and dread he holds for his brother. He’s never been much of a fighter. When you two would get into arguments, he’d either avoid the subject, instantly apologize, or avoid you altogether. When you were informed of his battle, you almost wanted to laugh. You’re sure that you’d do a better job at leading a war than he would be. 

“I have said what you were summoned to hear,” the king finalizes, bringing all of your attention back to him. Lucifer takes a deep breath as he looks up at the ceiling, clearly trying to keep his composure. “Leave us now.” Lucifer smiles, the clear disbelief he feels being evident. 

You watch on with solemn eyes as he leaves, your posture suddenly slumping with dread. So that’s that, you suppose. 

Luckily for your fiance and King Henry, you were the best healer in the country. Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration but you were quite good. Because of this, King Henry allowed you to go with his son to the battle. No one would say it out loud but you were all sure that Leviathan would somehow end up injured one way or the other. 

You walk alongside your husband-to-be, coming to stand beside him as he sits down in a chair. “Lord Simeon,” he greets before sitting. “Are your men ready for the day?” he asks once he’s sat down. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth to chew on it, a nervous habit that you’ve picked up over the years. 

“They are, sire.”

“Very good.” A pause ensues. “Tell me of your preparations.” When Lord Simeon doesn’t immediately respond, you cringe a bit. Leviathan just seems so awkward and out of place here. 

“My lord,” he warns, staring off behind you two. You turn around to find the true reason he had gone silent. 

Lucifer moves towards you all on top of a horse, his brows furrowing for a moment when he sees you. He slides off the horse as his brother asks him why he’s here. “I will not allow this havoc to transpire. I’ve come to see it stopped,” he replies, eyes moving to look at you. You think he’s going to address you but Leviathan speaks up before he can. 

“This is my battle,” his brother protests. 

“If I have my way, there will be no battle.” He pauses before walking in between you two, his side brushing yours. It causes a shiver to go down your spine and you’re disappointed by your reaction to such a simple thing. 

“You, come ‘ere,” he says to someone behind you. Your heart skips a beat at how demanding and confident he is. 

“My lord.”

“You have no place here!” his brother declares as he turns around to face him once more. You keep your back to him though, afraid of how your body will react to him. 

“Go to the rebel camp. Deliver the following message to Solomon. Tell him that Prince Lucifer challenges him to settle today’s score man on man. He and I. We will fight in our armies’ places.” This has you turning around to look at him, eyes widened and heart racing for a completely new reason now. 

Is he mad?

“Yes, my lord.”

“Who do you think you are?” the man who was answering to Leviathan just a few moments ago asks. 

“I am nobody to you,” Lucifer says with a shake of his head. Lucifer then turns away from him to walk to a tent to get armor, eyes connecting with yours as he passes. You want nothing more than to chase after him, beg him not to do it, but you know better. 

You know that once he puts his mind to something, there’s no stopping him. It’s something you’ve always both loved and hated about him. 

Despite this, you still find yourself following after him. 

You follow him inside an isolated tent, his back to you when you enter. You just stand there though, not knowing what to do or say. “You will not stop me, brother,” he says as he starts to unbutton his shirt. With no reply, he turns around and stops halfway down his shirt to look at you. Your eyes automatically move to his bare skin before you can stop yourself. To your surprise, he slowly continues unbuttoning it. 

“I think you’re in the wrong tent, Miss (L/n),” he says lowly, almost playfully, causing your eyes to move up to his. You gulp a bit, trying to think of something, literally anything, to say. 

“I’m not. Why must you refer to me in such a way?” you reply, slowly walking further into the tent. He lets go of his shirt when he’s done with the buttons, his upper half on full display to you now. 

“In what way, Miss (L/n)?” he asks, eyes boring into your very soul. You suck in a breath as you stop at the table between you two, looking at the armor that covers it instead of looking at him. 

“Calling me that. You need not do so. You used to just refer to me as (Y/n),” you reply softly, fingers brushing across a chest plate that is cool to the touch. You’d rather be touching his chest but you would lose that finger if you were caught doing so. 

“That was when I thought you were my bride-to-be,” he informs. Your breath hitches at this, your fingers coming to a stop on the shiny metal. Does his heart beat for you the way yours does for him? Is he upset about losing you and not at the fact that he won’t be king? 

“You may still refer to me as such. This changes nothing…” you argue, eyes still refusing to look at him. Your heart skips a beat when he starts to walk, moving to go around the table to meet you. You avoid him though by going around the opposite way. 

“My brother’s sudden role of becoming the new king changes everything,” he argues, stopping on the spot where you once were. You stop in his old spot, finally moving your eyes up to meet his again. 

You find despair and desperation lingering in his eyes but you aren’t sure that if he knows you can read him so well. He’s so used to hiding his emotions and being seen as emotionless nowadays. 

“It doesn’t change the feelings I once held for you…” you whisper, suddenly afraid that someone might be listening in now. He stares at you silently for a long moment, your heart beating faster at his pause. 

“Does my dear little brother know that I was your first kiss?” he asks, tauntingly starting to walk around the table again, to which you reciprocate by redoing what you had done before. 

“Whilst I was yours too, if I recall,” you tease right back, a smirk coming to your face. He hums and stops at the other end of the table, pulling you to a stop too at your end. 

“So, what are we going to do? Keep playing this game of cat and mouse?” he asks as he slips his shirt off and drops it to the table, bringing his hands to the table to lean against it. Your eyes flicker to his arms, watching as his muscles roll under his smooth skin as he leans against it. You gulp before flashing your eyes back to his strong gaze. It takes you a moment to realize what he just said. 

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest, turning to look away from him. You don’t notice how his eyes move to your deep neckline then, drinking in the sight of your cleavage from the side. “Lucifer, you mustn’t say such things. You know we can’t…” you trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Maybe if you don’t say it out loud, it won’t come true. 

Maybe there is still a chance for you two. 

Before he can reply though, you hurriedly change the subject. “You’re a fool to want to fight Sir Solomon,” you jab. You wanted to beg him to take it back, to not risk his life for something that isn’t worth it but, again, you know it’d be fruitless. 

“I am no fool, Miss (L/n),” he replies shortly, tugging on a new tunic that has a thicker material. With that, you leave the tent. You mustn’t get such fairytale ideas, like the possibility of you two having a future, in your head. You are engaged to his brother, to the future king, and nothing can change that.

“You have no place here,” Leviathan asserts as soon as his brother comes out of the tent. He fixes his armor as he converses with his brother. 

“You do not know war, Leviathan,” is his calm reply to his frantic brother. 

“I do know war,” he argues. He doesn’t. 

“You do not,” Lucifer speaks your thoughts without knowing he did so. “You’ve been recruited to our father’s madness, to wars that need not be fought. These men are not our enemies. Our father has made them thus.”

“Why then are you here? You so disapprove of our cause and yet, still, you find it necessary to upstage me.” You aren’t able to hold back a snort. Leviathan is sounding more and more like a child throwing a tantrum by the minute. The duo turns to look at you at the sound, making you quickly start coughing to hopefully cover it up, knowing that if one of the other men heard you disrespecting the prince, the future king, in such a way, you’d surely be punished. 

Leviathan is too much of a coward to say anything to you about it though. 

“I do this not to steal your thunder, brother. I do it to save your life.”

“Pardon me, my lords. Our herald has returned from the rebel camp. They have refused Prince Lucifer’s offer. They want battle.” You can’t stop or deny the relief that fills your entire body. You watch as Leviathan walks away, once again reminding you of a child throwing a fit by stomping their feet. You don’t know why he’s acting in such a way though. He got what he wanted. 

You look to Lucifer to find him already looking at you, your heart skipping a beat from his gaze. You wordlessly follow after your fiance, not trusting yourself to be alone with the handsome male. 

Your eyes widen when you see the man of the hour ride up to your side of the battlefield, your fiance pushing through his men to reach the front. Without thinking, you follow after him. You don’t trust him to be civil or to not be a coward. 

“Where is Lucifer?” he calls, making your heart fall out of your chest and onto the dry ground. Has he reconsidered? “I come to fight him in our armies’ stead.” Yes, he did. Oh god, you might be sick. 

“No. His offer was refused,” Leviathan responds instantly, your eyes moving the back of your fiance’s head now. For once, you actually agree with the man-child. 

“The offer has been reconsidered.” No, no, no.

“I said no!” he shouts, making you cringe a bit. You don’t mean to be so mean to your future husband but he just doesn’t sound threatening at all. He really does just sound like a child to you. 

“Why is the little dog barking?” he asks and you want to laugh but you also know it’s not supposed to be funny. But, c’mon, he practically just read your mind! “Hm?” he hums with a taunting raise of his brow at your husband-to-be. “Where be the big dog?” he screams, making you flinch at his sudden volume. 

In a flash, Lucifer pushes through men and comes to stand beside you. “It will be done,” he says with his eyes trained on your enemy. He goes to move forward but you grab his wrist before you can tell yourself not to, his squinted eyes softening when he turns to look at you. 

“Lucifer, please,” you whisper for only him to hear, your eyes starting to sting. What if he gets hurt? Or worse.

Solomon chuckles to himself as he looks between the two of you. “And here I am with the whoring fool,” he starts, Lucifer seeming to not care about the words coming from his mouth. He was overall indifferent until his next words. “Have you claimed your brother’s wife to be as your own? I’m sure you’ve taken her innocence by now too. Takes a whore to know a whore.” Lucifer pulls himself from your grip and marches forward, coming to stand next to his brother. 

“This fight need not be had, Solomon,” Lucifer warns, doing his best to remain calm when really, all he wants to do is punch him in the jaw. “My father will soon be dead. Your grievances will die with him.”

“Don’t be afraid of our small contest, young Lucifer. I promise to finish it quickly and not embarrass you too much in front of your new whore,” he taunts before turning away from him. “Come on.” 

Lucifer is quick to move forward, his jaw clenched tight before it’s hidden by the helmet he slides on. His tongue poking the inside of his cheek is still very visible though, letting you know just how truly peeved he is. 

“Your father is plague to England,” Solomon declares as he slides his helmet face down. “Come for me, big dog!” he shouts as he points his sword at Lucifer. Lucifer does the same before getting into position, your whole body shaking from how nervous you are. 

They start to circle each other and do so for a moment before Solomon speaks up. “Once I claim your head, I might just claim your brother’s too before taking your whore. I think she’ll love bouncing on my cock and calling my name,” he taunts, trying to get a reaction out of him. 

A reaction he did receive. 

Lucifer instantly plunges forward with his sword, only to be blocked and pushed aside. The fight continues on for a while, each one getting in hits and gaining the upper hand before it’s the other’s turn. Your eyes leave them as three men ride up to the fight, watching the two hit and slice at each other. 

Lucifer ends up dropping his sword while Solomon is attacking him, slyly grabbing one of the other men’s daggers as he backs away from his opponent. Once they fall to the ground, fear swallows you whole as it seems that Solomon will deliver the final blow. Before he can though, Lucifer trips him and brings him crashing to the ground and before he can recover, he moves on top of him and stabs him in the neck. 

You almost cry from the relief that you feel. 

He removes Solomon’s helmet before marching towards his brother with it. “Someday this will be your head. Dropped at the feet of a man who might otherwise have been your brother. Come with me, Leviathan. Please. Walk away from this field.” You stare at Lucifer in awe, feeling just how much he cares for his brother. 

“After you just stolen its prized scalp?” He’s joking. He has to be. “This is what will be spoken of tomorrow!” He’s not joking. “This field was mine!” he shouts. God, you’ve already said this so many times but he really is just a child on the inside. He’s acting like Lucifer just took away his toy when it was his turn to play with it. “It was to mark my dominion. Instead, now it marks only this head. This bloody head!” You look between the two, hoping for Leviathan to just let it go and to realize that Lucifer just saved his life. 

“Move!” he screams. Guess no such thing will be happening today. You watch him go before turning to look at Lucifer, only to find him gone. You quickly pick up your skirts and walk speedily to the tent he was getting ready in. When you arrive, you find him tossing his armor off and dropping it to the earth. 

He stops when you come in, his eyes holding all of the words he left unsaid to his brother. He doesn’t say anything as he takes off the last of his armor, gently setting it down onto the table. Without thinking, you charge forward and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I thought you were to die out there today,” you whimper, letting your tears free and land on the ground by his armor. He softly shushes you as he wraps his arms back around you, gently rubbing your back with one hand while the other cradles the back of your head. 

“Shh, it’s alright, (Y/n). I’m alright. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, kissing your temple. You sniffle as you pull back, staring up at him with your watery eyes. You didn’t have time to pull away from him before his lips found yours. Now that they’re there though, you can’t bring yourself to deny him. You greedily kiss him back, praying that no one should walk in and find you two in such a vulgar state. 

He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, stealing the breath right out of your lungs and taking it for his own. Your hands move up his back to his hair, tugging on the long strands as he slips his pink muscle into your mouth. A moan tumbles past your lips and onto his without warning, making him hum and drag your body impossibly closer to his. 

A man’s barking laugh from outside of the tent snaps you out of your moment of relapsed judgment. You pull away from him and listen to you both pant, breathing in and out the same air from how close you are. “I must go,” you breathe before disappearing from the tent in the blink of an eye. Once outside of the tent, your hand grasps at your chest, trying to calm your racing heart and the blush that is surely spreading across your cheeks. 

It was odd hearing the news of Leviathan’s death soon after Lucifer had defeated Solomon. You had gone back to the kingdom, thinking the fight was over, only for your fiance to continue on in his desperate attempt to prove himself. He met his end in the western fields of Wales during battle. You didn’t cry though, you simply frowned and looked out the closest window to you. You never loved him, but you did care for him, just not enough for you to shed tears over his death.  

Soon after his death, you find yourself standing amongst the priests and minions of the king, frowning at the ill king as he rests in bed. He wasn’t the best king to rule but he was usually quite kind to you, so you held no hatred towards the man. You look away from him when you hear screaming, a sigh coming from you. 

His son doesn’t feel the same way, it appears. 

You watch him walk in, flinching a bit when he refers to his father as a monster. He walks past one of the men, saying as he walks past, “Move. Leave him.” 

“The king needs rest,” another man argues, standing up to the angered man before you. 

“Soon he will have it,” he quips, moving around this man as well. 

“He’s dying,” the man hisses, continuing to insist that he leave the king alone. 

“Leave,” Lucifer breathes, the single word dripping with venom. The man drops his argument then, slowly moving out of Lucifer’s way. When Lucifer reaches for his father’s covers, you step forward. 

“Lucifer,” you say softly but it was like you weren’t even there. He tugs the blankets off of him and drops them to the floor, moving around the bed to stand on the opposite side of you. It seems he also realizes that you’d be able to calm him if he just gave you the chance. 

He doesn’t want to be calm though. 

You stand still as Lucifer places his hands on the bed and moves to hover his head over his father’s, leaning in to whisper, “You feel this cold? Wretch.” 

You’ve never seen him like this before.

Your eyes begin to water as his father shakily tries to raise his hand to touch his son, your hands squeezing at the sides of your dress as you watch him gently touch Lucifer’s hair. Lucifer begins to rock, seeming a little unnerved by this. 

“Lucifer. Lucifer. You must be king, Lucifer. Please. You must be king, Lucifer.” It was honestly a strange sight to see him so weak, to see him begging his son for something so openly. Tears started cascading down your face as he starts to have trouble speaking, his face scrunching up in pain and...disbelief? Regret? Worry? Fear? You aren’t quite sure. “I know not what I have done,” are the king’s last words before he lets out one last groan before going still. 

You wipe at your eyes and cheeks, turning to watch Lucifer leave his father’s side to stand before the others. They all start to bow and get on one knee, your eyes widening a bit at the realization that he really is the king now. 

You lower yourself into a curtsey, watching fresh tears leave your eyes and fall to the wooden floors. “You know not what will become of you. So, I offer you this. The most blessed reprieve, the most dreadful misery. You shall suffer the indignity of serving me, the wayward son you so revile. But know now that you will be watched over by an altogether different king.” 

With that, he brushes past everyone to leave the room. You raise from your curtesy to quickly follow after him. You don’t bother calling out to him as you follow him, wiping away your final tears before taking a deep breath. 

When he finally stops, he is in front of a grand window that looks over the front of the castle and shows snippets of the town where he’s been living. “Lucifer,” you whisper as you come up to him, noticing that he seems to not hear you. You aren’t sure if this is because of how quiet you are or because he is stuck in his head. 

Becoming the king can do that to you. 

You quietly come up behind him and slowly wrap your arms around him, leaning into his back. You feel his body shaking, soft cries escaping him as you silently hold him. You feel his arms come up to rest on yours, tears splattering on your sleeves and skin. You let him cry though, not making a peep. 

There’s nothing you could say that would heal him right now. 

You’re there for every part of the ritual that Lucifer must complete to become king, your heart seeming to race the entire time. You don’t shout along with everyone else as he is pronounced king, everyone joyously shouting, “King Lucifer!” over and over again.

You’re right beside him at the table as you and the king's companions and allies eat to celebrate his success, your hands secretly conjoined with his underneath the table. Your new relationship, if you would even call it that, didn’t need to be a secret anymore, seeing as how he is king and you are to marry whoever the new king is to be, but just yesterday it was his brother and it almost feels wrong to be with Lucifer now.

Not that you were complaining one bit. The man beside you has had your heart since the beginning. 

You watch as the gift bearer announces gift after gift and you continue to watch on as Lucifer gives every single gift away to someone else. He’s so noble. It makes you swoon each time you see him act in such a way. It wasn’t until Dauphin’s gift was presented that his mood suddenly shifted. 

“From the Dauphin, son of his majesty Charles, King of France,” the announcer says before stepping to the side to allow Lucifer access to whatever was inside the decently sized box. Your brows furrow as you watch him stare down into the box, becoming more concerned the longer that he doesn’t move. He finally reaches in and takes out something that you cannot see. You don’t have to wonder for long what it is since he announces it. 

“A ball.” A heavy pause. “There is no accompanying message from the Dauphin?”

“No, my liege.” Another long pause. 

“I shall keep this gift. This one is sent only for me. For the boy I once was,” he says softly before throwing the ball against the wall and catching it single-handedly. You aren’t sure why such a simple action makes heat come to your cheeks. He then walks back over to his seat and sets the ball down but doesn’t set himself down. 

“I have a gift of my own that I’d like to present now,” he says as he raises his hand to cut off the announcer from announcing whoever’s gift was next. Everyone appears just as confused as you, your eyes turning up to look at him instead of the announcer. You find his eyes already on you, along with a gentle smile. “(Y/n),” he says as he offers you his hand for you to take. You wait for him to continue but he says no more. You gently place your hand in his and allow for him to help you stand, your free hand gathering up your dress. He leads you to the fireplace behind your chairs, the heat of the fire not helping the blush that appeared only a moment ago. 

“My darling (Y/n), ever since I met you, I knew you and I were to be wed someday. Now that I am king, that day is closer than ever before. I hope you will accept my gift,” he says softly to you, not really caring if others heard him or not. He then removes something from his pocket before going to one knee, your eyes widening even though you two are already engaged. You look down to your left hand and see the ring that has been passed down through his family for generations. His eyes move to where yours are, a small grunt leaving him as he brings one hand to take it off. “My gift to you is a proper proposal that you may decline if your heart so desires. I shall no longer ask you to be my wife because it is your duty. I shall ask you to be my wife because I want you to be.” Your eyes sting at his confession, your heart trying to beat out of your chest to fly into his hands. 

“I want to be with you too, Lucifer,” you whisper, afraid if you spoke any louder, your voice would give out. He smiles brighter than before as he slides the ring he picked out onto your ring finger, putting the old ring into the box in place of the new one.

He then stands and wraps his arms around you in a hug, your eyes burning from the oncoming tears. He swiftly pulls back though to share a passionate kiss with you, clapping and shouts of joy ringing around you. When you both pull away from the kiss, you let out a watery laugh as you look down at the beautiful ring. “You and I will rule this kingdom together until we meet our end. You shall be by my side every step of the way, no matter what hardships we may encounter. I love you, (Y/n).”

You sniffle and wipe at your teary eyes with a big smile. “I love you more, Lucifer.”

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

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⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[underkita-archive]

polyester

kita shinsuke | w.c 2k

a/n: sigh pain,, this is inspired by the song heather by conan gray! i was walking my dog when the song came on and i was like huh, what if i just write a leetle something? which became u know,, 2k words,,,, anyway uh note that this not really an x reader fic,,,

now with the companion piece cotton

set post-timeskip

warnings: just sad, poor use of past tense honestly i struggled so hard, unrequited feelings/love, some tears being shed, feelings of regret

On the second day of your first year of high school you meet Kita Shinsuke. 

Quiet, collected, Kita Shinsuke. 

It had been completely by luck of the draw. You could remember your nerves, still afraid of navigating the ins and outs of high school when there was a gentle tap on your shoulder in the first year hallway. 

“You dropped this.” He’d placed the notebook in your hands before you could stutter out a thank you, left to watch as he approached the Miya twins with a stern look.

To call it love at first sight may have been an exaggeration, but at the time you couldn’t help but color it as such.

His cool demeanor and dedication to a sport that hardly rewarded him was far more admirable than you would’ve liked to admit. So you had found yourself at few more volleyball matches than someone who never cared for the sport.

And when Miya Atsumu came careening into the classroom one frigid morning spouting nonsense and demanding one of the girls in your class volunteer to be the volleyball club’s team manager you couldn’t have stopped yourself from raising your hand if you tried. 

He wasn’t even captain yet, but the two of you worked closely. Staying behind to clean up after the raucous first years, careless second years and overworked third years.

The only ones dedicated enough.

Somewhere in between those late nights cleaning and those early mornings prepping, between the quiet whispers and watching him become more and more dependable.

You had fallen in love.

It hadn’t surprised you, you knew you were doomed from the start. Since that one lucky day in the first year hallway, you knew it had been a matter of when not if.

There had been more than enough opportunities to confess your feelings, to free yourself of the endless nights of pining, of being tormented by all the what ifs and almosts.

Yet you watched in perfect silence as your first year melted away. Watched as Kita earned the right to being called captain, and let yourself be consumed by the role of the doting team manager. 

Once again you had found yourself letting the months roll by, allowing your feelings to rot away at your insides, suffering in the way he seemed to form a kind smile solely for you, living for the quiet praise and approving nods he’d occasionally offer.

“Why don’t you just confess?” Your friend had said, tired of the sad way you would carry yourself after a particularly taxing day of spending too much time in Kita’s proximity. 

“Nationals, I’ll tell him when we win nationals.” You promised, trying to convince yourself that it would be the right time, a poor attempt at trying to conjure up a speck of bravery. 

By the time Nationals had arrived you had prepared your heart to the best of your ability, ready to see your team take their rightful spot as the champions.

And when they didn’t, whatever courage you had cobbled together shattered. So you sulked. Standing on the balcony of the hotel, staring up at the light polluted Tokyo sky, shaking from the biting cold.

“You’ll get sick like that.” You hadn��t thought your blood could run any colder until his voice interrupted whatever pitiful thoughts had been running through your mind.

“I-It’s...fine.” You hoped he chalked down the stammer in your words from the weather over nerves.

“Mmm. Don’t stay out here too long.” You nodded your head, keeping your eyes focused on a flickering star struggling to make its presence known when there was a weight on your shoulders. You couldn’t help but snap your eyes down, the familiar shade of maroon now hanging over your body. 

And what should’ve finally been said that night was left in the air, left struggling like that little star in the sky. 

With a heavy heart you watched him graduate, watched as time kept moving without bothering to let you catch up.

◇ ◆ ◇

Years later you can say with confidence that your school girl crush has aptly faded, telling yourself that there was never a need to confess.

Until your phone beeps late one Thursday night.

Engagement dinner. 

Your eyes scan over the text, once, twice, again and again until you lose count, until your chest feels tight and your face burns and what were once feelings you thought had faded start rearing their ugly head.

You won’t allow whatever leftover hormonal thoughts poke and prod at what you’ve built up. You’re older, wiser and most importantly you’ve moved on. 

So you clean up nicely, put on something nice but not too nice, just a touch of perfume and only check twice in the mirror before you walk out the door to call a Lyft. 

The restaurant is unfamiliar, nestled in a cute little neighborhood. It’s fitting for Kita, it’s homey and cozy but nice enough for the occasion. 

You try not to choke as he approaches you, a grin too large splaying across his usually serious face, oddly enough it fits, furthermore it hurts.

It takes you a second too long to notice the woman beside him, the sight of his arm tucked behind her back as she curls into his side, she offers you a shy yet refined smile. You barely catch her name, the overwhelming sensation of the past creeping up on you, tearing down whatever walls you had carefully built over the years.

They show you to the table, Aran, Akagi and Gin already there with their charming and familiar smiles, yet the lovely reunion is unable to distract you from the way he pulls out her chair, making sure she’s properly settled before he takes his place beside her once more.

You think of the maroon jacket that had weighed so comfortably on your shoulders that freezing Tokyo night, you think of the words that laid on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far as Kita patted your head and returned back inside.

The lost opportunity.

Only to have the once sweet memory dashed away at the lightness of your left ring finger, as you’re forced to witness the woman beside Kita rest a perfectly manicured hand atop his, the ruby gemstone set on a golden band gleaming so beautifully in the low restaurant lighting.

“Captain! Sorry we’re late! Congratulations.” Miya Atsumu with his usual loudmouth tears through your concealed pity party, a small smile finding its way to your lips at the way Osamu trudges behind him with that special irritated look reserved solely for his brother.

“It’s just Kita, I haven’t been your captain in years.” He rises from his seat, taking his bride-to-be’s hand and introducing her to the ever famous Miya twins. 

“Sure sure, manager-chan! Looking good!” He’s by your side in seconds, thick arms already pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“You’re gonna break her ‘Tsumu.” 

“Shut it ‘Samu, I would never.” His hold only tightens at the statement, the rippling of his muscles against your body causing an undeniable rush of heat to bloom across your body. 

“Enough of that.” You laugh, wiggling out of his grip with an exasperated laugh.

A few more former players of Inarizaki pour into the restaurant, old memories tossed around with endearing fondness and one too many congratulatory toasts leaves your heart aching worse than before, regret eating away at you, the inevitable question of what if cycling though your thoughts. 

“Doing okay?” Atsumu’s closeness is nothing new, somewhere over the years your boundaries had skewed, his face being a little too close was to be expected at this point.

“Sure.” It’s a noncommittal reply that Atsumu would normally call you out on, but he accepts it only after letting his gaze linger on you for a moment.

The minutes tick by as Kita retells the picturesque proposal he had carefully planned, unfiltered adoration and fondness adorning his eyes.

Lovestruck. 

An expression you had wished this man to have focused on you just a few years ago. 

What if?

The question taunts you, what if you hadn’t been a coward? What if you had said it that night? Or any other moment spent by his side? Would it be you? 

Another sip of the bitter wine offers no reprieve from the taunting thoughts, whatever mask you had been donning the entirety of the night starts to wear down, you can feel it slipping out of place. 

“Boy am I sweatin’!” Atsumu barks out, knocking his shoulder against yours, true enough his cheeks are tinted a soft blush, eyes glossy from one too many beers.

The exclamation causes a few snorts and chuckles around the table, a scathing comment from Osamu and a faux jeer from Suna.

“Maybe you need a walk.” You mumble, picking at the food you had long abandoned earlier in the meal. 

“Ya know what? You might be onto somethin’, let’s go.” His fingers are around your wrist before you can register what he’s saying.

“Atsumu what?”

“C’mon, say bye!” 

“Atsumu!”

“You be safe, thank you for coming.” Your head spins as Kita offers that same smile, still a little too wide as he offers a nod and turns back to his fiancee. Atsumu tugs at you again, only for you to shake him off, turning properly to the happy couple. 

“Congratulations Kita-san. I wish you both,” You swallow the bitter lump in your throat, “I wish you both unending happiness.”

You’re turning on your heel before you can receive a reply, biting back whatever pent up emotions threaten to spill over as you rush out of the restaurant, practically running down the sidewalk fueled by the desperate need to get as far as you possibly can. 

“Hey hey slow down!” You don’t bother slowing, let alone stopping, knowing fully well the professional athlete chasing after you will catch up in a matter of seconds. “I said slow down.”

The second his hand touches your shoulder whatever walls left standing come crumbling down.

“It hurts.” It’s nothing more than a whisper before he’s turning you around to face him, a hand still planted on your shoulder as the tears that have been welled up for nearly five years begin to fall. The tears you hadn’t allowed yourself to shed.

“I know.” His voice is pained as he draws you closer, letting you close the distance as you lean against him. The trail of tears burns against your cheeks, they’re filled with shame, with unspoken words, with unrequited love. 

It’s almost poetic, the way you two stand there in a broken silence under the flickering light of one of the odd stores dotting the street. It feels like hours pass by, the initial ache in your chest starting to lessen as you meet his gaze.

“Could you... consider me?” There’s something profoundly sad in his eyes, an exhaustion from years spent quietly resigned from confessing a truth that you were all too familiar with dotting his expression. 

“I,” can’t, “don’t know.” 

“I know that I’m not him, I don’t think I can be anything close, but just, do you think you could?” There isn’t the slightest trace of his boyish charm nor the cool demeanor he normally holds in serious situations. He feels smaller, more exposed and for the first time in all your years of knowing him.

You can see weakness.

“I can’t make any promises.” It feels almost too soon, a little rushed for you to be able to make sense of anything that’s transpired, you don’t want to hurt him, you don’t want to lead him on. 

“I can wait,” a wistful quirk of his lips rekindles the ache from before as an expression you’ve surely worn in the past washes over his face, “I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

And in a matter of two, maybe three seconds, the world seems to tilt, just a few degrees, just enough for the angle to change, for that memory of the muddled Tokyo sky to shift a few inches to the right from the struggling star to the one shining in softly in the distance.

Your hand moves before you can even think, fingers curling around Atsumu’s chilled ones, intertwining them carefully as you offer him something akin to understanding, something a little deeper, not quite sure what you’re truly conveying.

“Just for a little bit longer.”

[talkfastromance4]

stuck with u-- calum hood oneshot

a/n: hii! so this came outta left field but I went with it. based off of ariana grande’s song with justin bieber. very loosely edited, but yeah, I hope you like it :)

word count: 4,111

warnings: mentions of quarantine, a break up, sweet moments, male receiving oral, female receiving oral, spitting, unprotected sex, funny sexual moments

Masterlist

Feedback is always welcome and enjoy! :)

• • • •

She came over to return his box of things, giving herself a pep talk before she did. It’s a few days before their new album releases and two weeks before touring begins. They always had an expiration date, this she knew, but she hadn’t put into consideration how badly it would sting.

Like any normal couple, they had their ups and downs with minor arguments here and there, but their stubbornness was the same. Neither one of them wanting to give in first left them each brooding in their separate corners until the bell struck for another round of heated words then they’d stalk off to their respective corners again.

It was a cycle that kept cycling until her eyes filled with tears or the steam finally sizzled out from them both. In exchange of heated words were the remaining apologies, words of kindness, and a conclusion to whatever their fight had been about.

She’s at a stoplight, Halsey’s magical voice surrounds her in her car, and she glances to the box in the passenger seat. A small notebook lays on top that holds small poems or songs he wrote for her, about her. It was given to her on her birthday, but she couldn’t keep it now, not when their time is up. Next to the notebook is his green Empathy hoodie she stole awhile ago and on top of that is a small stuffed bear he won at a fair.

A car horn pulls her from her reverie, and she continues the familiar roads to his house. After dropping off his things and getting hers back from him, she was heading back home to spend time with her family so the back part of her car was full of duffel bags and her pillows.

She stares at his house, suddenly it seems so daunting as memories swim in her head. Countless nights of wandering through the front door after a night out or at Michael and Crystal’s for a small party. Mornings of coffee and breakfast created by him filled with whipped cream and syrupy kisses. Her eyes sting with tears and she shakes her head quickly. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry another tear over him.

She checks her phone to see a comforting message from Crystal of good luck and a safe drive home with many heart emojis.

“You can do this; you can do this. In and out and he’s behind you,” she mutters to herself then grabs his box of belongings.

Before she can ring the doorbell, he opens it and Duke is barking at his feet, jumping up on the glass trying to get to her, his fluffy tail wagging joyously at her return. Her heart falls, she’s going to miss Duke a lot. Calum opens the door.

“Hey,” he greets, his voice gruff and scratchy. She hopes he’s not starting to get sick; he needs to rest—

She stops herself short, it’s not her concern anymore.

“Hi,” she says quietly and enters the house. Her shoulder brushes his chest, they both tense and his aftershave invades her nose. The smell of him and him alone brings back more memories of cuddling by the fire, snuggling on the couch, walking up behind him while he’s making dinner and burying her face between his shoulder blades.

Duke continues to vie for her attention as she moves into the kitchen. The news is on with the volume down low, numbers and the word ‘China lockdown’ traveling across the bottom of the screen. She sets the box down on the counter with a thump then squats to her knees to give Duke a proper hello and goodbye.

“I’ll um, go get your stuff. Help yourself to something to drink.”

“I’m gonna miss your cuddles, Dukey,” she whispers to the old dog and kisses his nose. He licks her chin in return.

She stands and waits, not even bothering to get a drink because she doesn’t plan to stay long. Why does he want to prolong their goodbye? She leans against the counter waiting for Calum’s return and she realizes she’s in the same spot from months ago where she tried to prepare him dinner for once.

He was being exceptionally affectionate, lifting her arm so he could press his lips to her wrist then slowly down to her elbow—

“I think I have everything,” his voice startles her from the good memory. “I made sure you didn’t leave any of your books behind.”

“Thanks,” she gives him a grim smile taking the box from his hands. Their fingers brush, his heat always made her forever cold fingers warm. A shock ran through her fingertips.

The pair stare into their boxes respectively, shuffling through memories of their relationship.

“This isn’t mine,” Calum holds up the small notebook of songs and poems. “I gave this to you as a gift, Y/N.”

She stares at the book of words in his hand, words of love and light reserved for her only.

“I can’t keep it, Cal,” she whispers, eyes pooling with tears. She tries to blink them away and on instinct Calum moves forward. She backs up into the corner of the counter. “No, don’t. Please.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s hard enough, Cal, all right? I know our time was limited,” she crosses her arms over her chest, “but I’m still hurting and I’m probably going to hurt for a while longer.”

“You think I’m not hurting, too? This was—is the hardest breakup. I’m hurting, Y/N, I am.”

She risks a glance up at him to see the wounded look in his eyes. Calum shifts forward, his hands cradling her face gently in his palms, his forehead pressed to hers. She dares not to move, because once she touches him then it’s all over. There’s no way she could recover from that.

“Look at me,” his lips kiss her forehead, another stab at her heart. She shakes her head. “Baby—”

The news anchor’s voice interrupts their moment declaring the state of California has issued a lockdown effective immediately. No one is to leave their homes for any reason, no going to other houses, no contact with anyone. The world shut down and now they’re stuck together.

**

It’s awkward at first, moving her things from her car into his house. She decided to stay in the guest bedroom, no matter how badly she wanted to crawl into his bed and never leave. He was on the phone with the guys and management discussing what this means for their album release and tour well late into the night while she contacted her family.

She could do two weeks with her ex, nothing tricky about that, right?

She was wrong. The first week was rough, they bounced around each other like meteorites trying not to collide. When he’d walk around the house shirtless she had to force herself not to stare. More memories and the ache to run her fingers over his tattoos was too strong. They ate in separate rooms and tried to remain separate as much as possible.

She watched the live he did with the band for their album release, listening along with them and crying at songs she knew Calum wrote. Small nods to their relationship tugged at her heart.

The second week things were looking up because she would be leaving soon. The smell of him would linger on all of her clothes a lot longer now, but she needed to get out. She needed to get over him and that’s hard to do when you’re stuck under the same roof.

Plans had changed yet again, and she’d be with him a lot longer. Tour has been cancelled and in the process of being rescheduled as much as it can be. Calum has been stressed; she feels it radiating off him one morning while he’s sat at the kitchen table. His coffee cup is still full, his shoulders hunched to his neck from stress.

Without thinking, she moves behind him and rubs at his shoulders. He jumps at her touch but then relaxes into her touch, letting her remove the stress that she can from his muscles.

“D’you want to talk about it?” she asks softly.

“Not really,” he shakes his head then sighs. “There is something I’d like to talk about though…”

“Yeah?” her thumbs rub up his neck into his hairline, his blond hairline that he re-dyed for the wildflower music video that never got filmed.

“Can we talk about us?” he asks. Her hands still their motions in his hair.

“What about us?”

He spins around, her hands falling from his warm skin. He takes her hand in his, fingers linked together like so many times before, his brown eyes captivating her. He swallows harshly.

“We’ve got all this time on our hands, might as well cancel all our plans we had and spend it together,” he says.

“Even if it’s just you and me?” she strokes his cheek with the backs of her fingers.

“I can’t fight it anymore,” he shakes his head. “I thought it was hard before but it’s even harder now with you here. I don’t want to let you go.”

“So…what does this mean exactly?”

“It’s just you and me,” he rises to his feet taking her other hand in his. “It means whatever we want it to.”

“Let’s have a date night, a new start,” she offers.

“That sounds good,” he smiles.

At around six o’clock, they meet in the kitchen wearing comfy clothes. Something they both agreed on to make the night even easier and more comfortable. She had on one of his shirts with shorts and socks that went up to her knees. He had on basketball shorts and a blue t-shirt; he remembers how she likes him in blue.

They were making dinner together, homemade pasta with sauce to match. A bottle of wine was opened, and their glasses were filled with the sweet nectar.

“Remember when we got poured out at the festival with Mike and Crys?” she laughs while stirring the sauce.

“We were so muddy,” he joins in her laughter. “Your hair was sopping but you looked adorable all muddy.”

“You wouldn’t join me in the puddle,” she nudges him.

“Because I didn’t want to get sick and guess who was in bed for four days with a cold?”

“Yeah but you took care of me,” she grins.

Calum takes her hand that doesn’t have the spoon in her hand and lifts it to his lips. With his eyes trained on hers, he kisses her fingers, kisses the center of her palm, then her wrist.

“I’d do it again, you know,” he murmurs on her skin. Goosebumps rise on her neck and all the way down her body. “Take care of you.”

Their eyes lock and the mood changes, the sauce bubbles as they lean in closer, closer, and closer still until—

The timer on the oven buzzes signifying it’s ready for the garlic bread. Calum sighs, gives her wrist one more kiss then returns to his task at hand. She’s left flustered and warm while she stirs the sauce then adds the noodles into the boiling water.

During dinner they had another glass of wine and joked about more memories together, dreams they wanted to do with one another. Unlike the first week she was there, their chairs were pushed as close as they could be at the table. Their plates were empty, and his arm was on the back of her chair.

“We should just rent a small camper and travel along the coast,” he says rubbing her neck with his thumb.

“Maybe we can afterwards,” she chuckles wiping off pasta sauce from his cheek. “When we can leave the house again.”

“Good point. So, since this is a first date, now it’s time to dance.”

She quirks an eyebrow up. “Dance? I’m in a t-shirt and knee-high socks.”

“Perfect dancing outfit come on. Up you get, little lady,” he tickles her neck as he rises from his chair. She giggles at his touch then is pulled from her own chair by his hand.

“There isn’t any music,” she laughs falling into his chest.

“Oh shit, hang on. Hey Alexa, play the Y/N playlist,” he says.

“Playing Y/N playlist on Spotify,” Alexa responds, and Ariana’s voice fills the house.

“You have a playlist for me?”

“Of course,” he grins then dips her down. She squeals from the sudden rush to her head as she’s tipped backwards, but Calum would never let her fall.

He pulls her back up, both of them giggling as they dance in the kitchen. Her fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, it’s getting longer and shaggier by the day. His curls are coming back, and she’s been itching to play with the soft twists.

“I’ve missed you,” he confesses.

“I missed you, too,” she whispers. Their eyes meet just as Justin Bieber’s voice croons in the speakers.

“My plan when you came over was to try and get back together, you know. Even before all of this happened, I was going to ask if you’d wait for me to come back from tour. I wasn’t going to let my stubbornness push away the best person that’s happened to me.”

“Cal…”

She cups his cheek the same time he leans down and presses his lips to hers. An electric surge courses through them as their kiss deepens. He grips her waist then lowers his hands to her ass giving her a hefty squeeze. She gasps at the contact and he slips his tongue in her mouth. Calum spins her around, lifting her up so she’s seated on the counter.

Her legs wrap around his waist, accordingly, pulling him as close to her as possible. The song changes to Lover of Mine just as his hands creep under her shirt. His fingers skim her skin, thumbs brushing over her soft nipples that turn hard upon his touch. He groans, giving her breasts a firm squeeze before lifting the shirt from her body.

Their eyes lock, lips red from their kiss. She traces his lower lip and he’s quick to duck his head down to suck on her neck. She gasps when his hand cups her sex, his thumb rubbing her core through the fabric while his mouth descends to her breasts. She bites her lip, but a small moan escapes her as he sucks on her nipple, his thumb moving in tantric circles.

“Calum…Cal…please…” she begs in a whisper, her fingers tightening in his hair.

Getting her message loud and clear, he lifts her in his arms, lips assaulting hers as he makes his way to his bedroom. He kicks the door shut so Duke doesn’t interrupt then drops her to the bed. She giggles and he laughs along with her yanking his shirt off. She removes her shorts and panties the same time he drops his shorts to the floor.

She’s quick to grasp him in her palm, stroking towards herself, looking up at him. He touches her cheek affectionately; it’s been so long since they’ve had each other this way.

“Love the way you look at me like that,” he mumbles, his thumb rubbing under her eye.

A smile flickers on her lips before she suctions them around his tip. Calum’s eyes close sequentially but he forces them open so he can watch her, another love of his. Her tongue swirls and rolls the only way she knows how to do before taking him further in her mouth.

Calum groans at the warmth of her mouth, he brings his other hand to her cheek, watching her eyes close as she concentrates. Flashes of her like this flood his mind, from their first time, to the time they snuck away at Ashton’s house because he was wearing that suit she loved him in so much she had to have him right then.

When he reaches the back of her throat, he snaps back to the present and moans from the sensation. She takes him that deep again and he holds her face tighter.

“Up, up, up, up,” he orders pulling her off him. As much as he loved getting head from her, he loves returning the favor more. “Lie back, baby, legs up.”

She licks her lips, swiping her thumb over leftover spit which is insanely hot and pushes herself to the center of the bed. He follows her hungrily, pushing her ankles up and to the side so she’s open and pliant for him, only for him.

He keeps his eyes on her as he kisses her thighs, nibbling his teeth every now and then with his thumbs rubbing her ankles softly. She situates the pillows behind her head so she can have a better angle to watch him. She loves to watch as much as he does.

“Ready?” he asks, and she giggles, nodding quickly.

He flashes her a wink before closing his mouth on her clit. She moans on contact while he sucks then transitions to flicking his tongue at the nub, teasing the tip of his tongue in her hole sporadically. He loves pleasuring her with his mouth, he can feel her moans on his tongue as she drips for him. Her hands fly to his hair guiding his mouth to where she needs, and Calum lets her use him.

He pulls away a fraction so he can gather his saliva then spits it on her core, watching it dribble to her entrance before he slurps it back up with her arousal. Her moans are sinful at the action, her hips moving with his motions, moans getting louder and louder until she gasps out his name in one breath. Her legs go rigid in his hold as her orgasm crashes into her.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he grunts, swiping his tongue up and down, up and down until her body relaxes. He looks up already meeting her gaze, chest heaving from the bliss. “Ready for me?”

“Always,” she nods.

They move quickly, situating themselves in the right way. He holds her ankles until he’s hovering above her, then lets go so he can grab hold of his shaft then slaps it against her pussy in a teasing manner. She moans at the contact, her legs falling open wider. Calum rubs her temple with his thumb nearest her head as he nudges himself between her folds.

Her mouth opens like it always does when he inserts himself the first time, he slips right in and they moan together at being connected once more. He rests his other hand on his bed, and she lets out a squeak.

“Ouch! On my hair, move, move, move!”

He lifts his hand spewing out ‘sorry, sorry!’ quickly as she readjusts herself. They’re giggling and he bends down to kiss her, she wraps her arms around his neck. She shifts her hips slightly underneath him in a rocking motion, but he wants more of her lips.

“If I’m going to do all the work, I should have been on top,” she teases jutting her hips up once more.

“Yeah? You want to be sassy right now?” he hums pressing himself into her more, she lets out a choked moan.

“You going to fuck me right now?” she hums in the same tone, smirking against him.

Calum growls then pulls himself out of her only to plunge with force right back in. She screams out his name as he starts a rapid rhythm, hips snapping against hers, the bed shifting with his movements. Her head tilts back as her back arches so she can take him even deeper.

Calum sucks onto her breast, fucking into her swiftly, her wetness has him moving faster and faster until—

“FUCK!” he groans when he slips out of her entirely and thrusts into her thigh. She’s laughing above him, and he curses lowly to himself again. He glances up to see her giggling behind her hand. “Think it’s funny, huh?”

“Am I that wet?” she laughs poking his nose. “That’s your fault you know.”

“I take that as a win, baby,” he sighs teasing her hole once more with his cock. He grins up at her. “No one makes you as wet as I do.”

“Hmm, you’re not wrong,” she smiles then wiggles beneath him.

“You want more?” he teases pressing his tip in slowly, she bites her lip.

“Please,” she whines.

“You have to keep your legs still, so I don’t slip out again,” he breathes then pushes in once more.

He finds his rhythm from before, her body arching the way he loves but he feels her legs shift. He growls then pushes them up to her chest, he plants his knees to the mattress, her ass cheeks resting on his thighs.

“What’d I say?” he pants, and her eyes roll at his tone and the angle he has her body in. he jack hammers into her, his balls slapping her thighs.

She squeezes the pillows next to her head until her knuckles are white, her cries of pleasure are music to his ears as he feels her clench around him. Sweat builds on his brow and his chest and he’s damned to have her orgasm as many times as he can. Her eyes close as her second orgasm hits, she’s pulsing around him in such a good way it makes him ache.

When it’s over, he releases her legs so he can pound into her with his waist. He holds her to his body, face buried in her neck so he can leave marks on her skin. She’s coming once more, chanting his name in his ear and he groans at the sound. She kisses his ear, teeth grazing his lobe as a new orgasm rolls into the next.

Feeling his own release approaching, he shifts again. This time he moves backwards pulling her with him so they’re in a sitting position. He wraps her legs around his waist, her body is heavy against his from the tumultuous pleasure he’s giving her. Calum’s arms snake around her back, it’s sticky with her own sweat and he licks into her mouth the same time he starts thrusting again. Her ankles lock behind his back, she hides her face in his neck at the new angle.

“Look at me, baby, please,” he begs tugging at the hair by her neck. He holds her in place, their eyes meeting, her mouth falling open with their thrusts.

His movements slow to a more tenacious speed, still full of passion but with a layer of love and adoration. Calum moves his hand from her waist so he can anchor himself to the bed, thrusting his hips quicker. She helps as much as she can, her body is nearly spent but she wants to feel him cum inside her, hear his moans and see the bliss in his eyes.

“Come for me, Cal,” she pants, “come for me, baby…”

His hips jerk and he releases his orgasm inside her, his hips move lethargically, milking his climax for as long as he can but their eyes stay locked. When he’s finished, they both let out a long sigh, knocking their foreheads together. Their breath is hot on each other’s faces, sweat beads roll onto each other’s skin, a mixture of him and her.

They stay in the position, legs crisscrossed, arms wrapped around one another, heartbeats slowing from a rapid pace to syncing together. After a few more moments, they disentangle, and Calum has to help her walk to the bathroom. She can already feel the soreness in her lips, but she’s missed the pleasured ache.

They brush their teeth, she uses the toilet, then crawl into bed together. She’s already passed out as soon as her head hits the pillow and Calum draws designs along her back until he falls asleep as well.

The next morning, they wake later than intended but give light kisses in the morning sun.

“I love you, you know,” he tells her caressing her face. His eyes litter over the small marks on her neck and breasts he gave her.

“I love you, too.”

“Are you all right being stuck with me?” he grins pulling her leg over his hip.

“Lock the door and throw out the key,” she grins capturing his lips between hers.

“It’s just you and me.” He moves to roll on top of her, but she pushes on his chest lightly so she’s on top.

“I’m stuck with you,” she whispers, kissing him as she grinds herself on top of him.

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[nugnthopkns]

eyes full of stars

word count: 3.1k

warnings: insinuated!fem reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, slight sexual innuendo (kind sorta maybe, minors please be aware)

recommended listening: cowboy like me | taylor swift

a/n: it’s cold and snowy. to combat the winter blues i wrote about a sunny minnesota summer with brock :))

You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen Brock this carefree. 

The season was hard on him. There were large periods where he didn’t put up any points, and trade rumors started to circulate. Halfway through, before the playoff push even started, the negative social media comments came rolling in. You frequently saw fans request a trade or say that the organization should regret drafting him. Brock did his best to brush everything off, but it was beginning to waer on his mental health. You’re devastated when they fail to make it to the postseason, but you know it’s for the best. The injured team will spend the offseason recuperating and be ready for the next one. Besides, it means you and Brock will get to spend more time on the lake. 

So here you are, packing the car for the twenty-seven hour drive to Minnesota. Brock insists on driving, says it’s relaxing, but you aren’t sure you agree. Prone to car-sickness so fierce you can barely look out the window, you’d much rather fly. Everything is exasperated by the fact you’re a nervous traveller to begin with, afraid of taking a wrong turn or missing an exit. You’re a terrible road trip partner but at least Brock could talk to the dogs. Coolie and Milo loved car rides, and you can typically hear your boyfriend having full on conversations with them as you fade in and out of consciousness. 

“Ready to go babe?” Brock asks as he closes the trunk. The question is delivered with a bright grin, and despite your anxiety you return it with ease. 

“I don’t really have much of a choice do I?”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he moves towards you. Sliding his hands into the back pockets of your jeans he kisses you lazily. It’s comforting and all-consuming at the same time; doing a great job of occupying your mind with thoughts of him instead of the journey ahead. “I suppose not,” he says, planting a final kiss on your forehead. “It’ll be fine. You can take a Gravol right before we cross the border and you’ll be asleep before we hit Seattle.”

It’s the best plan of attack, so you agree immediately. After taking one last run into your shared apartment to use the bathroom and make sure everything is in order, you make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat of Brock’s jeep. Music filters through the speakers at a low volume, and you focus on the retreating skyline of Vancouver. You’re excited to get back to Minnesota, to relax and see your boyfriend in his natural habitat. Countless days are about to be spent lounging lakeside enjoying each other’s company. It will also be nice to spend time with Brock’s family: they’ve been incredibly welcoming over the years and you can’t wait to catch up with them. You know Brock’s itching to spend time with his nephew, and just to be at home. 

Just as Brock said, you’re asleep before Bellingham. It’s fitful, and you’re frequently woken up by the dogs barking a little too excitedly in response to something Brock said. However, it does a good job of keeping you from emptying the contents of your stomach onto the floor. Somewhere in Idaho, a good seven hours after you left Canada, you awake for the final time. 

“Look boys, Mom’s finally awake!”

You laugh at the comment and lean over the center console to ruffle his hair. It’s still long from the season, and curls slightly around your fingertips. 

“You’re hilarious.”

Brock takes his right hand off the steering wheel, unravelling yours from its resting place and entwining your fingers together. He places a kiss to the back of your palm. “You know I’m just teasing,” he whispers. “I know these drives are hard on you. Thank you for doing it twice a year.”

Instead of answering verbally, you squeeze his hand tighter. Though it’s true you hate driving through five states, you’d do it twice a week if it would make Brock happy. It seems a bit much to convey with a single gesture, but you can tell from the smile that graces his features that Brock understands. The two of you sit in silence, enjoying the scenery and trying to scout for a rest stop. Coolie and Milo are getting antsy and you’re also due to stretch your legs. 

After letting the dogs run around to release some energy and using the bathroom, you start the final leg of the day. Missoula, Montana, is the destination. Not quite the halfway point, but close enough that you could tackle the rest of the miles tomorrow, the city has a wide variety of pet-friendly lodging. You insist you drive the rest of the way, giving Brock a well deserved rest. Looking at the interstate for hours can cause serious highway hypnosis. Not even twenty minutes after getting back on the road he’s asleep, snoring softly as he rests his head on the window. 

You take a moment to admire your boyfriend. He looks so relaxed and peaceful, and the forehead creases that are starting to develop from over analyzing hours of tape disappear. Brock looks years younger, and you know the youthfulness will creep back into him the longer you’re in Minnesota. You can’t wait to see him without any cares again. 

Less than two hours later, the hotel creeps up on your left. Pulling into the first available parking space, you turn the car off before waking Brock. 

“Brock, we’re at the hotel,” you say softly, jostling his shoulder. “Let’s get checked in and then we shower.”

The mention of washing off a day’s worth of travel has him letting the door fly open. You had made sure to pack your overnight bags in an easily accessible spot, and work at getting them out while Brock wrangles the dogs. For being cooped up all day, they’re extremely well behaved. Once cleaned up you imagine you’ll take them on a long walk and grab some food. 

“Hey, give that back. Milo!” you hear Brock yelp, and peek around to see what’s happening. The younger pup has Brock’s bucket hat between his teeth and is in the process of tearing across the parking lot. 

With a giggle you call him back. “Milo, come here baby,” you say. Without a second thought, the dog bolts towards you, knocking against your shins when he fails to stop in time. You lean down to scratch Milo’s ear, and as soon as you ask him to drop the object he places it in your open palm. “Good boy,” you coo, letting him lick the side of your face. 

“He’s your dog alright,” Brock huffs from where he’s standing, Coolie running circles around his ankles. 

You toss the hat over the roof of the car as you laugh at him. “You’re just jealous he listens to me.”

“I sure fucking am. He’d be an absolute nuisance if it wasn’t for you.”

The rest of the night is spent unwinding from the long day. Dinner consists of the greasiest burgers you can find, and you roam around the city hand in hand, the dogs leading you. By the time you get back to the hotel you’re spent. Sleep takes over rather quickly, and you’re dozing off before Brock gets back from brushing his teeth. Once ready for bed, he slides his body against yours. The pair of you fit together like a puzzle, and after a quick kiss you let sleep consume you. 

The second day of travel is much the same, except you do a better job of staying awake. You take a different anti-nausea medication and frequently switch with Brock. Conversation flows easily, ideas for summer excursions and repairs that need to be done around the house. The Boeser’s are kind enough to lend you their lake house during the off season, but the property can be a lot to manage. Brock takes it all in stride, and somehow actually enjoys spending hours mowing the grass. He says it’s relaxing, mind numbing work, so you let him handle it. Country music flows from the car speakers, and eventually talking turns into a full on concert. Milo and Coolie do their best to harmonize with Brock, and it’s too cute not to post somewhere. You sneak your phone from your pocket and manage to catch some of it on video, posting to Instagram immediately. Those from the Canucks organization you have on social media will love it; Brock’s teammates will most definitely chirp him for being tone deaf. 

It’s late by the time you pull into the driveway of your temporary home, almost eleven. Grabbing only the essentials and leaving the rest to be unpacked tomorrow, you unlock the door before flopping on the couch. The dogs follow suit, laying on top of you. When Brock walks in he shakes his head, but still leans over to kiss you. 

“Make sure you text your mom and let her know we made it,” you call to his retreating figure. “And let her know we’ll be over in the afternoon once we get situated.”

You swear he flips you off, no doubt poking fun at your maternal instincts. “Yes ma’am,” he replies. 

“Ma’am?” you shriek. “I am not fifty. You’re so gonna get it Boeser.”

After gently nudging the dogs off your legs you’re chasing after him, laughing all the way. Brock’s a lot faster than you, being the athlete he is, but you don’t give up hope. In a last ditch attempt to get him back, you launch yourself forward, square into the middle of his back. The change in weight distribution has him falling to the floor, sprawling the width of the hallway. Both of you are giggling messes, delirious from lack of sleep and the knowledge you get to spend four months of uninterrupted time together. 

“I love you, you know that right,” Brock murmurs into the crook of your neck. He dots chaste pecks along the skin and you sigh at the feeling. 

Pulling him closer, you make sure to properly enunciate your words as you respond. “Yes sir.”

Brock eyes darken visibly, and he shifts his body so he’s resting on top of you. “You’re in for it now,” he groans, dragging himself to his feet. You quickly follow, meeting his lips in an eager kiss. The pair of you stumble the rest of the way to the bedroom, bodies intertwining like ivy vines, and Brock makes sure to kick the door shut to ensure your pets don’t interrupt the salacious activities he has planned. 

☼☼☼☼

You settle into a routine fairly quickly. Mornings are spent alone while Brock works out, and afternoons are for lounging in the sun. The hours after the sun fades away are spent huddling around a bonfire with friends, and midnights are for just the two of you. Sometimes Brock lets himself rest and spends the day in the middle of the lake doing his best to fish, leaving you to spend time with his mom and sister. They’re lovely; warm and welcoming, making sure you’re never too lonely or bored. You and Brock also spend a lot of time with his nephew, doting over the toddler. Seeing your boyfriend with him makes you want kids, but that’s a conversation that is yet to be had in any serious light. 

Sometimes you join Brock when he does typical professional hockey player in the summer things. It turns out you're quite the golfer, and have put him to shame many times. Countless days are spent helping him fix the roof of the lake house because he insists on doing it himself even though he knows nothing about roofing. At least seven phone calls to his father and a desperate run to the hardware store later, it’s completed; sealed and free of cracks. Though you’re a terrible fisher, Brock tries his best to teach you. Truth be told, you don’t have any interest in the sport, but his tongue pokes out slightly when he’s thinking about how to explain a concept and you think it’s adorable. 

Coolie and Milo are loving being able to roam free, and you both spend a lot of time outside with them. You’re only ever really in the house at night, reading or playing games on the patio furniture Brock’s mom picked out. It’s peaceful; existing like this. You swear you could do it forever. 

Being home allows an invisible weight to be lifted off Brock’s shoulders. There’s a pep in his step, and he’s always smiling. Even the intense at-home workouts can’t seem to bring him down. You’re delighted, how could you not be? It’s as if the only things that matter to him are enjoying a few beers lakeside and coaxing you out of shorts in the dark. You suppose that’s the truth. 

☼☼☼☼

It’s incredibly warm out. The sun beats down on your back as you turn the pages of your novel, half listening to the conversation Brock is having with his friends. A group of you are on the boat, enjoying one of the last full days of summer. Later in the week you and Brock will pack up the car again, making the long trek back to Vancouver. You’re sad time has passed so fast, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to be back in the city. It’s your home, and the boys seem to be really fired up for the new season. You have a feeling some really good hockey is going to come out of Rogers Arena. 

“Yo Y/N, who’s the better driver. Me or Boes?” 

The question pulls you from the fantasy taking place on the pages, and you look to see who’s speaking to you. It’s Brock’s dearest childhood friend, someone you consider family at this point. “It’s absolutely not Brock,” you shrug. The comment earns a loud laugh from everyone and you find yourself joining in. 

“Ouch babe, that hurts,” Brock says as he slides into the free space next to you. Casually wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder, he leans down to whisper into your ear. “Looks like you need to be taught a lesson.”

His words have a vaguely sexual connotation, and you look around nervously. Your swimsuit won’t cover the flush that will be sure to rise on your skin if Brock tries anything. Everyone seems to be engaged in their own conversations, but you still feel queasy about getting caught. Though Brock’s friends are the type to laugh it off, you’d be absolutely mortified. 

Before your brain can overthink anything else, you’re being lifted from your seat. It only takes two seconds for Brock to hoist you over the side of the boat and throw you into the cool water. You land with a glorious splash, but take your time coming to the surface. Partly to bring your temperature down, partly to make your lover squirm. 

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you yell to him from below, but the bright smile you flash him lets Brock know you don’t mean it. 

He sets his hat on top of your book before climbing over the edge. “Shut up,” he fires back, diving gracefully to join you in the water. 

A small splashing match breaks out, and soon everyone else is in the water, picking sides. You swim until your skin is wrinkled beyond recognition, pruned and puckered something akin to a raisin. Only once the sky begins to redden do you head for home. Brock keeps the boat at cruising speed, and you sit comfortably in his lap. Once back on land, dinner is quickly thrown together. A mish-mash of what’s left in your fridge and what others have brought, but it works. The boys huddle around the grill and everyone else swoons over the dogs, who are on their best behaviour. 

Later in the night, once the dishes are cleaned up and some guests with day jobs have left, you settle into Brock’s side at the fire. Not caring if you get chirped for the PDA, you hold his face in both your hands and rest your forehead against his. The scruff that’s grown in since the last time Brock shaved tickles slightly, but you’re too in love with him to care. It’s been so refreshing to see him relaxed, acting without a care in the world. Hopefully the attitude he currently has will stick and not disappear once you hit the Vancouver city limits. 

Brock takes a sip of his beer before offering the bottle to you. You gingerly place it to your lips, making a face at the taste. He laughs at your reaction, pushing a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. 

“Still tastes disgusting,” you mutter, reaching for your own drink to wash away the taste. 

The fire crackles gently behind you but you barely register the sound, in your own little world where everything is perfect. It’s you, Brock, and the dogs living in a house similar to the one you’re currently residing in, living life to the fullest. 

“You gonna come back to me, space cadet?” Brock chuckles, tracing the outline of your nose. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry,” you apologize. “Was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Us. The future. Living in a lake house just like this one and spending all our time being so in love with each other that our friends constantly make fun of us. Maybe having kids in a couple of years. How I love seeing you like this; so at peace and full of life.”

In lieu of a response, Brock kisses you passionately. It’s a soft kind of passion: one that holds you tenderly and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. He tastes like the Coors Light he’s been drinking, but somehow the idea of beer is much more appealing when mixed with Brock. You lose yourself in him for a while, relishing in the gentleness of his hands resting on your waist. Eventually you return some of your attention to the others, but even then you can’t find it in yourself to focus. Your mind is filled with nothing but love for Brock. 

It’s seems that he’s feeling the same way, because he continually leaves kisses across your shoulder blade. “I really, really love you,” Brock confesses, and you feel him smile through the thin material of your worn hoodie. 

You intertwine your pinky with his and let them sit comfortably in your lap. “I love too. So much that it’s all consuming.”

Brock often leaves you breathless in more ways than one, but sweet sentiments like this will always take the cake. Especially when they happen on summer nights where he’s free to be his authentic self.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[voiceless-terror]

Oooo 16 mixed with 39 w Jon for the fluff/angst prompts?

Hello there, anon! Can you believe, that in all of my whump fics, I’ve yet to tackle the bread knife incident? High time we corrected that. The two prompts this is referencing are- “Do you need to go to the hospital?” and “If you don’t rest you won’t get any better.” Had this written for a bit, but I spruced it up and decided to post as I’m working on reconstructing chapters. Hope you like!

“Jesus Christ.”

“I-It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Admittedly, it doesn’t look great.

There’s a trail of blood following Jon to the sink, a bloody handprint or two on the counter (and probably a few door handles), and his shirt is similarly stained, the rumpled white button-up painted with red. The slice (more than a slice, probably a stab) to his arm bled more than he anticipated and is probably still bleeding under the towel he’s currently using to stifle the flow. Jon’s swaying where he stands; the loss of blood has him feeling weak, and the dizziness and dull throb in his head leftover from Michael hasn’t abated. All in all, he must look a mess.

Judging by Martin and Tim’s expressions, this is probably a fair assessment. Martin immediately goes to his side, though Jon flinches away as he tries to reach for his arm. He tamps down the guilt he feels at Martin’s look of rejection. “It’s n-nothing, really-”

“Nothing?” Tim scoffs, slowly making his way over as he dodges Jon’s mess. “We leave you alone for twenty minutes and suddenly you’re finger painting with blood. The hell happened?”

“Did you reopen one of your wounds?” Martin’s hands are hovering above his arm, like he’s trying to approach a skittish animal. “I told you not to pick at them-”

“Uh, n-no.” Jon leans against the counter- his vision’s starting to go, he should’ve sat down instead of puttering about like a fool. “It’s-it’s a new one.” Sufficiently cowed by Martin and Tim’s worried stares, he gently removes the towel with a hiss and yes, it’s still bleeding profusely. Damn. 

Tim hurriedly pressed the towel back down, leading him over to a chair as Martin lets out one of his disbelieving squeaks. Tim’s always been good in a crisis and Jon wants to lean into the touch but something in the back of his mind rebels against it, whispering paranoid nothings in his ear. Wrong wrong wrong. There’s something wrong, something bad. Find out. So instead he flinches out of his hold as soon as he’s sat down, ignoring the exasperated look this gets him and putting pressure on the wound himself. 

“What did you do?” he asks but Jon doesn’t meet his eyes, instead looking down at his lap. “How’d you get that?”

“A-A sandwich.” He can feel Tim’s stare, practically hears Martin’s fretting. “I-I was-”

“A sandwich,” Tim repeats, his voice deadpan. “A ham and cheese stabbed you.”

“No!” Words aren’t making sense, they’re hard to put together. He wants to lay down, he wants to sleep, he wants to be far away from these people and what they’ve done and what they might still do to him. “I cut myself...making a sandwich. W-With a knife. A bread knife.”

“A bread knife.” Martin’s talking now, his voice high-pitched and concerned. “A bread knife did that.”

“Where is it, then?” He wishes Tim would let up, would just take the story and leave him be, let him bleed.

“I-I put it back. I cleaned it and I put it back.”

“Let me get this straight-”

“For God’s sake, Tim- that doesn’t matter right now!” Now Martin’s at his side, hauling him up out of his seat with a steady hand that takes the brunt of his weight as he lists to the side. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“I-”

“Why am I even asking? Of course you do.” Martin’s muttering, already dragging him halfway out the door. “I’ll get us a cab. You two will just bicker the whole way. Take care of all this will you, Tim?” He gestures with one free hand to the mess Jon’s made and Tim just sighs wearily, nodding his head. He throws Jon one last glare but it’s weak and more worried than anything. He feels the guilt bubble up again. He should apologize for the inconvenience, tell them what happened, who visited. But then the voice creeps up, starting its chorus in the back of his mind.

He stays silent. He doesn’t speak as Martin takes more and more of his weight and the world tilts around him. He’s in a cab. Martin’s hand is warm and should be comforting but it isn’t. His arm stings and Helen’s gone and Michael’s laughter echoes and he can feel the worms burrowing back in, and over this cacophony of pain is the miserable choir singing wrong, wrong, something’s wrong someone’s there someone’s watching, waiting until they’ve got you alone-

He struggles in Martin’s hold but its weak and must seem more like a squirm of discomfort, for Martin doesn’t let go, just keeps up his murmured reassurances and his touches that sting like a thousand tiny needles.

He doesn’t know how long they’re at the A & E for. He barely registers Martin dragging him inside or talking to the nurses. He watches dispassionately as the wound’s stitched up, his other scabs disinfected from constant picking. Nobody lectures him or says much of anything- one mention of the Magnus Institute shut them right up. Jon is as much thankful as he is discouraged. He really is alone. He feels it even as he’s shoved back into Martin’s arms with a disingenuous smile and a ‘get well soon!’ 

Martin’s eyeing him critically as they wait for the cab; Jon’s too tired to fight at the probing hands that inspect the bandages. “Still your story, then?”

“Hm?” The world is hazy, but Michael’s laughter is starting to fade.

“Bread knife.”

“Oh...yes, yes it is.” He tries for some defiance but his voice is small and weary. Martin sighs in turn.

“You know you can tell me about these things, right? Me o-or Tim, maybe Sasha-”

Jon snorts. “Tell you when I’m making lunch?”

Martin’s face remains serious.  “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

Jon doesn’t want to have this conversation so he nods in a clear dismissal, sighing in relief as a cab pulls up outside. Martin reaches for the car door, helping him in before hurrying to the other side. Jon’s about to tell the driver to take them back to work when Martin interrupts in a no-nonsense tone, rattling off an address with a please and thank you.

It’s Jon’s address.

How does he know my address? Has he been following me? He is the one who found Gertrude’s body, after all. What if- what if-

“I can see your mind going a mile a minute, Jon. What’s wrong?” He startles, moving as far away from Martin as possible and hitting the car door with a wince. Martin continues, his eyes betraying nothing but concern as Jon’s mind spirals. “You’re not going back to work. You just got stitches-”

“How do you know my address?” The words are meant to be an accusation, but they just sound like the bark of a small dog. Martin seems to agree with this assessment because he rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. It takes him a moment to gather himself, and every second makes Jon’s heart beat faster until it’s rabbiting in his chest. What does he know, what did he do?

“You don’t remember, do you?” Martin sounds sad, disappointed. It hurts more than Jon would like to admit.

“R-Remember what?”

“You don’t remember the three times I had to do this, back when you were supposed to be on sick leave?” Jon blinks.

He doesn’t remember much of that time. He remembers the pain, the paranoia, the fear- all of it tuned up to a fever-pitch. Trying to go back to work and being promptly shooed out by Martin, who took one look at his limp and still-bleeding wounds and shoved him back in a cab. Was he covering his tracks? Is that why he didn’t want me around? He has the faintest memory of arms scooping him unceremoniously from the trap door to the tunnels at night, this time accompanying him in the cab and making sure he got home, since Jon had exited the cab early and snuck back several times before. It’s embarrassing and disconcerting, these gaps in his memory. Gaps that Martin has to fill. Martin, who he can’t trust. Martin, who’s talking right now. 

“- really, Jon- if you don’t rest, you won’t get any better. Tim tells me you’ve been skipping physical therapy, skulking about-”

“I don’t skulk-”

“Well, it’s sure as hell not sneaking if you leave a trail of blood wherever you go!” Martin’s voice raises in frustration, though it immediately quiets as Jon flinches, again. He heaves a massive sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose as if fighting off a headache. “We’re worried, Jon. We’re all worried. About you, about Gertrude, this whole mess- but you’ve got to talk to us. You’ve got to let the police do their job. And for the love of god, let us help you. Because-” he swallows, his next words earnest and spent. “-because we’re scared too. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Martin’s worried. Martin’s scared. Martin found Gertrude’s body. Martin’s always outside his office. Tim’s tired, Tim’s getting angry. Sasha smiles when she shouldn’t smile. Elias is up in his office, telling him everything’s fine and to rest but something’s watching, something’s wrong, Gertrude’s dead and someone killed her and someone’s coming for you next-

The next thing he knows he’s standing outside the door to his flat, Martin at his side. The door looks like a normal door, but Helen went through a door and didn’t come out. She didn’t come out, and Michael laughed, and there’s a war coming and he’s so stupid, so ignorant-

“Are you going to be okay?”

Jon takes the key from his coat pocket with shaking hands, shoving it in the lock. He doesn’t want to go in but he can’t stay out here, not with Martin who found Gertrude, who knows where he lives. “Y-Yes. You can go. Thank you.”

He’s inside before Martin can protest any further, slamming the door shut and leaning against it wearily. It looks like his flat, he hopes it’s his flat. Martin’s talking on the other side, asking him to call if he needs anything. Jon’s not going to do that, of course. He waits for the inevitable sigh, listens until Martin’s footsteps fade away. He’s safe, for now.

He locks the deadbolt.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073586

[justcallmenikki7]

BTS Reaction To: Them Getting you a Guard Dog

Mafia!Au

Summary: your mafia boyfriend gets you a guard dog

Warnings: mafia au, mentions of a jealous jimin, and Jungkook being a sneaky boy

Request:

Hey would you mind doing mafia bts reaction to gettinf their significant other a guard dog?

W.C.: 1.7k

Notes: Ah, it feels good to know that I am almost done with this school year and that I got my escape (writing) back.

and shout out to @jungkookiebus​ for making the banner for me! <3

Jin:

“HE’S SO CUTE,” you yelled happily, petting your new guard dog, Vader, in an excited manner. “Who’s a good boy, huh? Who’s a good boy?” You cooed, voice in a childish tone.

Seokjin sat back in his desk chair, watching in awe at you and the new purebred chocolate lab he got you just an hour ago. He was surprised that the dog was not growling at you, already have been trained to the T on being a guard dog. But, how could anybody resist you? You are just so loveable and trusting that it is hard thinking that you could be a bad person.

“Just remember, love. He is your guard whenever I am gone, and what ever you command to do, he will do it. So, be careful on how you act towards someone, because he will catch on if you give a person a bad vibe and Vader will attack.” Jin explained, wanting to make sure you knew what kind of guard dog you have.

“So, if I say ‘sick ‘em’, Vader will attack?” You asked, curiosity in your tone.

Smirking at your question, “yes.”

Eyes wide in wonder and excitement, “Hehe, good.” Rubbing Vader’s ear’s affectionately, you pressed a kiss to his snout, “You and I are going to have some fun.”

Yoongi:

One day ago, Yoongi got you a German Shepherd that is trained to be a protector. He even made sure that the dog could catch scents, such as bombs, ammunition, guns, drugs, and all of the above in order for your safety whenever he is not around. Yoongi knew that having men following you around as your ‘guards’ made you uncomfortable, besides his six closest friends, so he went with a different motive: a dog. Plus, you have been begging to get a dog to start your guy’s little family (this made Yoongi smile like a kid on Christmas morning).

So, Yoongi was not surprised to see Max curled up on the couch with you, face laid on your side, wide awake as he watched Yoongi walk into the living room.

“Wassda.” Yoongi commanded, watching the dog with a smirk as Max jumped off of the couch both quietly and skillfully, leaning down to give him a pat on the head. “Good boy,” he praised the dog. Walking over to you, Max at his side, Yoongi picked up your head, maneuvering himself so he was sat on the couch and your head laying on his lap. Max made himself comfortable at Yoongi’s feet. “My little family,” he whispered in a quiet, awed, voice as he stared at you and Max.

Little did Yoongi know that you were awake, hearing every word he said.

Hoseok:

Hoseok took you to a dog training company that sells dogs who have been trained specifically to be protectors since they were pups. Hoseok has been wanting to get you a guard dog ever since you were kidnapped six months ago while you were walking home from work. Ever since that day, he has not forgiven himself for what happened and will feel at ease knowing that you have extra protection since he does not trust people with you, besides his six brothers. So, knowing you are safe will keep him more focus at work and during jobs instead of panicking every second.

“Hobi!!” You squealed excitedly, seeing the one and half year-old black German Shepherd. “Can we get him? Please?” You dragged the ‘e’ out on ‘please’ in exaggeration, giving your boyfriend of five years puppy dog eyes.

“Of course, baby girl,” he answered, giving you a gentle smile. Looking up at the worker, expression neutral, voice deep. “This one.”

When the papers were all filled out and you guys were ready to go, Hoseok took you all to a pet shop to get the necessities. On the way, Hoseok read all of the skills that Tyson has. Seeing that he could be good use during jobs, Hoseok smirked to himself.

“No.” You denied, already knowing what that smirk meant.

“Why not?” Hoseok whined, knowing that he was caught.

“Because he is mine, you can get your own dog.” You glared, moving Tyson away from Hoseok in a protective manner.

Pouting, “Fine…” It was quiet for five minutes, “Ple—”

“I will not tell you no, again, Jung Hoseok.”

For the rest of the day, Hoseok was begging you for attention once he realized that you were punishing him by giving him the silent treatment.

Namjoon:

“Why does Gator have on a superman costume?” Namjoon asked, not even surprised by the sight he come home too.

Smiling sheepishly, “I was bored, and I decided to dress up Gator.” You giggled to yourself, looking at your feet with a smile on your face.

“And this is the only idea you had?” Namjoon questioned again, dropping his suit jacked on the couch while he unbuttoned the two top buttons on his button up shirt, exposing the honey colored skin of his chest.

“Yes! Well, no. But!” You exclaimed excitedly, “At least I can make a page only for Gator on Instagram of photos of only him! He’ll become famous!” You clapped your hands, grinning wider once you saw Gator’s tag wag with your excitement.

“The purpose of getting Gator was for your protection, my Queen. Not, for dress up.” Namjoon stepped closer to you, just enough so he could pull you into his arms. At your frown, Namjoon released a sigh, leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“But I wanted him to be in style when he kills someone if someone attacks me…” you trailed off.

Chuckling, Namjoon nuzzled his face into your neck. “What collars and outfits did you have in mind for him?”

And with your excited squeal and fast talking, Namjoon felt like he conquered the world.

Jimin:

Jimin sat on the other end of the couch, arms crossed and a pout on his face.

He was jealous of a fucking dog. A dog!

If the underworld, and world all together knew about this, then he would his title as the deadliest mafia leader in the world. But, for some reason, right now he would not care because he is petty. Watching you give belly rubs to Athena, the German Shepherd guard dog he got you just a day ago. And right now, he is not fond of the female German Shepherd because she had taken you from him.

Releasing another sigh – louder than the one before – you stopped what you were doing to give your boyfriend an unamused look. “Really?” You asked, “You’re really jealous of a dog?” Not answering your question, you released a sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re incredible,” you laughed, getting up from the floor so you can join him on the couch.

Realizing what you were doing when you opened your arms to him, Jimin happily threw himself into your arms, pushing you down onto the couch so he can lay on top of you. “Much better,” he smiled, kissing your collar bone.

“I’m dating a child, Athena. And he is your master,” you explained to your dog, laughing loudly at the sigh she gave out.

Taehyung:

All you said was “I want a guard dog for when I go to places when you’re at work!”

Dog – singular. One, uno.

Being in a relationship with a mafia boss who loves being in style and extra, you did get a dog, but you got two more with him. So, now you have three dogs – plural. Okay, you cannot lie to yourself, you are ecstatic about having three dogs. Two being German Shepherds and one being a black lab.

“Let’s go show off our newest additions of our family!” Taehyung said excitedly, dragging you off the couch. Pausing, he looked at you with a smirk, “In style.”

Agreeing with him reluctantly, you allowed Taehyung to dress you in designer clothes before you guys left the house. Of course, the dogs are in style too with Gucci collars and leashes. As you guys walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand, Taehyung would smirk at everyone who stared.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” You laughed, looking at your boyfriend with a smile.

Lowering his glasses so you can see his eyes, he smirked and gave you a wink. “You know it.”

But Taehyung loved it whenever Yeontan, the chocolate lab, and Ace, the black German Shepherd would get on both sides of you whenever you stopped to look at something, and Apollo stood beside Taehyung, staring at you intensely.

Jungkook:

Both you and Jungkook were talking a walk in the Seoul park with your new guard dog, Azrail. Jungkook was holding the leash in his right hand while he held your hand with his left, a smile on his face whenever you ran your thumb over his knuckle.

“Kookie! Look at those roses!” You gushed, admiring the roses beside the sidewalk with wide eyes, “They’re so beautiful!”

“Not as beautiful as you,” Jungkook replied back honestly, not caring that he sounded like a lovesick puppy.

“Oh shush,” you waved him off with a blushing face.

“Y/N?” You heard a male’s voice calling for you, catching yours, Jungkook’s, and Azrail’s attention – especially Jungkook’s and Azrail’s attention.

Noticing your Jungkook’s aura changing from loving to deadly, Azrail stood straighter and the fur on his back standing. Being the kind person you are, you greeted the male with a smile, even though you are not comfortable with talking to him – something Azrail caught on too. Manuvering his way in between you and Jungkook, he stood very close to you in a protective manner.

“Heel,” Jungkook warned quietly. He watched the exchange curiously, wanting to see if he needed to have Azrail interfere, you know for experimental purposes. When you and the male, Max, were bidding goodbyes, Max tried to give you a hug, alerting Jungkook and Azrail. “Intimidate,” Jungkook whispered.

Barking loudly, causing you and Max to flinch, especially Max. Looking at Jungkook in disbelief, Max could not deny that the deadly smirk that Jungkook was wearing was terrifying, especially with Azrail growling deadly at him.

[odelschwanky]

Change of Heart (Ikkaku Madarame x Reader)

Word Count: 2057

"C'mon! You're not gonna get any better if you keep slacking off like that!"

You slump over, leaning on your sword. You were so sick to your stomach. It was fraying your last nerve, trying not to lose your lunch while you attempt to keep up with your lieutenant. He was as fervent as ever with the training and you were just... struggling.

The tip of your sword screeched against the stone of the training ground as you charged him again. You drug it up and brought the hilt alongside your cheek in a less than eloquent stab. Your style was usually so smooth, delicate, beautiful. Right now, you were floundering. There was hardly anything aesthetically pleasing about your form right now.

You couldn't help it. You weren't getting much sleep these days. Every day seemed to bring more and more challenges whether it was paperwork or meetings with the squad or that mess with the former Captain Aizen. It didn't matter how much you had to do, it never truly healed your unhappiness. Truthfully... you had been awful.

Most days, you'd be in your room at the barracks with the blinds shut for as long as you could muster before duty called you to be somewhere else. Today was one of those days. Exhaustion plagued you due to weeks with no rest and the emptiness was too much to bear. The only thing that could get your mind off things was having the living shit beaten out of you by your lieutenant.

"Sloppy!" 

Ikkaku called this, deflecting your attack with ease. He grabbed the sleeve of your shihakusho with his free arm and used it to toss you to the ground.

You landed hard, the stone scraping your hands. You held back a sniffle. Your hair gathered your sweat and clung to your forehead. You swiped at it, as your lieutenant loomed over you, blocking out the last orange rays of the sun.

The wind in the Seireitei was gentle at this time in the evening, the leaves from the trees scattered about by it. Long shadows were cast by the dying evening light and the taste of autumn carefully kissed your senses. You could hardly concentrate on any of these beautiful things, as your training session with Madarame fuku-taichou proved grueling.  They always were, but today was the worst.

"Fuku-taichou..." you heaved raggedly. You wanted to stop. Your shoulders hunched as you lay there, peering up at him. Tiny droplets of moisture twinkled on his chest in the light and the shine of his skin was brighter than the sun behind. He had taken off his shitagi and kosode when you two had begun. They lay in a heap, leaving your lieutenant with a bare chest rippling with the sinew of muscle. You eyed them as they descended into his hakama, which were soaked in sweat. You figured you were sweating just as much, now covered in dirt as well.

Your sword had been knocked from your hands and skidded over, out of your reach. You resisted the urge to make any type of excuse. He had taught you that "excuses were not what made a good shinigami". You remember his words in full.

"What is it?" He glowered, looking you up and down. He was waiting for you to ask for a break, or to quit. He should know that it wasn't in your nature to give up. You'd show him.

"Nothing."

You struggled to your feet and walked to retrieve your sword. Gripping it in your hands, you turn back to your lieutenant with a newfound zeal. You charged him again, your blade a little more refined. You swung and slashed and he dodged your attacks fluently, countering in spurts. The clashing of metal and wood echoed throughout the courtyard, and it kept you sharp. Your narrow eyes fixated on Ikkaku's every movement and through your fatigue, you could still predict his movements. He was not getting the better of you.

He smirked, bringing the point of his spear down on your harshly. It took both of your hands to steady your sword against it, one on the blade and the other on the hilt. You gritted your teeth, swearing under your breath. You could see the notch form in your weapon, where Ikkaku's blade cut into the shiny silver metal. You pushed one hard time and flew back, giving yourself time to regroup.

"Giving up?" He barked, stretching himself like a bored dog. This made you shrink in shame. You were giving your all and he seemed like he was just getting started.

You shook your head. Your mouth had gone dry and your vision was fuzzy. Ikkaku's form blurred quickly and suddenly he was...

Sideways? 

Your limbs felt heavy and your head felt light. It didn't even hurt when you hit the ground and the last thing you saw was your lieutenant rushing to your side, his weapon clattering on the ground behind him. You could faintly hear your name before you faded from consciousness.

"(Y/n)! Hey! (Y/n)..."

***

It was cold in the room, and pretty dark now that you opened your eyes. You were on the ground in a simple shikibuton. Your fingers grasped for the blanket that was loosely around your shoulders. A shiver tore through your body and although you fought it, it rattled you through.

A figure sat beside you in the dark and it almost strained your eyes to decipher it. You could see that tell-tale bald head from anywhere. He didn't bother putting his clothes back on from training.

"Fuku-taichou?"

Ikakku was up in a moment, fussing over you in a way that you weren't at all used to. A calloused hand smoothed back the hair from your forehead and the other gently cupped your neck. His touch warmed you up. From your core to your stomach, to your neck and face, you were just one big blushing mess. You thought it was best not to talk. You didn't want to embarrass yourself.

"Hey, there." He chuckled in relief and you could help but notice the nervousness in his voice.

"Hey..." you choked out. Your eyes did a once over of his face, searching for something that might tell you what this was all about. You had never seen your lieutenant so high strung. He was normally a Type B, who loved to fight just like the rest of your squad. He was never too worried about anything... He definitely seemed worried now.

A sharp pain pierced through your consciousness. You couldn’t really tell where it was coming from. This probably meant your spiritual pressure had decreased to almost nothing. You held your head and winced, causing your lieutenant to hold you a little tighter. 

You didn't want to tell him he was squeezing you.

"Hey... take it easy, will ya? You passed out in the middle of training."

That's right. You did. It was so sudden, you didn't even see it coming. It was all those wondrous weeks of sleepless nights and stressful paperwork. And on top of all that, Ikkaku never let you rest your laurels. Always training, always improving, always fighting.

"Oh," you groan, trying to sit up. Ikkaku helped you, using his hand to steady your waist. There were those stupid butterflies again. Why was he being so nice to you? Maybe he felt guilty for running you into the ground.

"Hey... (y/n)?"

You looked at him in his face. His eyes were cast down and he seemed sheepish. This was very unlike him. You grabbed his hand, thinking it would help him speak.

"Unohana said that you were really weak when you came in here. Not just from training... but for the past few weeks. She said you haven't slept... Is she telling the truth?"

His raspy voice got the better of you. You didn't dare lie to your lieutenant.

"Yeah... It's true."

Ikkaku sighed, gently letting go of you and rubbing his head in frustration.

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?"

You shrugged. It was just a private thing. You didn't want to make excuses as to why you weren't your best. You didn't think he'd understand anyway. When he was sad or angry or even happy, Ikkaku's only solution to everything was training or fighting. You just weren't that way, not like you used to be.

"I just didn't want to bother anybody with my problems... especially you. You expect a lot out of me... I didn't want to let you down, Madarame."

Ikkau huffed, folding his arms. "Listen. Drop the stinkin' formalities. I'm Ikkaku, alright. We've been knowing each other forever."

You nod slowly. It was true. You two had known each other for as long as you'd been a part of the Gotei 13. All this time... you'd been pushing away feelings for him because, well, his one true love was the heat of battle. You didn't think he had time for you.

"Okay," you relent. He didn't seem satisfied until you repeated his familiar name.

"Ikkaku."

The way it rolled off your lips was... right.

"And second, you'll never let me down. Ever."

He grabs your hand again and squeezes it tight.

You couldn't help but laugh. As abrasive and aggressive as Ikkaku could be, this soft side was kind of adorable. You weren't used to it at all and truth be told, it scared you a little, but you were happy to see he actually cared about you rather than just keeping you around to use for a personal punching bag.

"Now what's this about you, not sleepin'?"

You looked away from him. "I don't really... know." You try to explain your struggles with your emotions and the abuse your sleep schedule puts you through. By the end of it, you're tired of trying to find the words and you're not even sure if it makes sense. All the while Ikkaku sits by your side and listens intently.

"It sounds to me like you're stressed out, and you don't have anybody to listen to you. You need comfort."

You paused. Ikkaku had hit the nail on the head. These past few weeks have been nothing but stress and worry and sadness. You didn't tell anybody how you felt and well... bottling it up had taken its toll on you.

"Am I right?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah. You're right." You were honestly very surprised.

Ikkaku laughs. "Well... I guess this is a good enough time as any."

Ikkaku climbs underneath the covers with you, much to your alarm. A flush fills your face and your heart rate quickens to the point where you think you're going to faint again.

"W-w-what are you doing?!"

Ikkaku shrugs and smirks. "I'm comforting you. And I'm listening."

You couldn't do much as he wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you close to him. The moonlight spilled in from the windows onto the floor of Squad 4's med room. It was empty in here except for the two of you, making you feel a little better. Ikkaku's presence did calm you... when he wasn't trying to kill you.

When you were face to face with him, close enough to feel each other's soft breaths, he spoke again.

"Actually. Can you just listen to me for a second?"

You nod inquisitively. You wondered what he had to say.

"Uh... (y/n). I'm sorry I've been so hard on you. I should've noticed."

You never broke the bond between your eyes. "It's okay." You assure him this, letting him envelop you further.

"No... it's not. I don't ever want to see you this way again. Especially if I'm the one who is hurting you like this."

"You're not hurting me, Ikkaku. You're here right now, holding me and helping me."

He quietly laughs but a small hint of disapproval in the turn of his lips. "Don't comfort me. I'm supposed to be comforting you! The point is, I'm always gonna be here. So I'm gonna start caring for you... like I should have a long time ago."

You were at a loss for words. So Ikkaku beats the living shit out of you, you pass out and you wake up in an alternate reality where he's confessing his feelings for you? At this point, you don't even want to question it. It's a dream come true, so you'll leave it at that.

"How does that sound?"

You inch forward and place a gentle kiss on his lips. They tasted like alcohol, which you weren't surprised by. It was a comforting taste. Ikkaku's hands snake around your shoulders more firmly now as he tightens his hold around you. You laugh a little, touching his chest gingerly.

"It sounds... perfect."

[pengychan]

[Coco] Mind the Gap, Pt. 23

Title: Mind the Gap Summary: Modern Day AU. Tired of Ernesto’s snide remarks, Imelda decides to put him in his place and her husband is more than happy to help. It was supposed to be a one-night deal. Things quickly get out of hand. [OT3, mostly porn and humor. Plenty of instances of Ernesto being Dramatic, Imelda getting Sick Of His Shit, and Héctor trying to be the peacekeeper. Don’t expect anything serious.] Pairings: Ernesto/Héctor/Imelda Rating: Explicit.

Art by @swanpit​.

[All chapters are tagged as ‘mind the gap’ on my blog.]

A/N: Long overdue make-up sex? Long overdue make-up sex. Only the epilogue left before this is all wrapped up!

***

“... I need water.”

“Seconded.”

“Thirded.”

Silence. Some shuffling.

“Well, who’s going?”

“I’m not. I went and got Coco back to sleep when she cried. Did my part.”

“I am not getting off this couch.”

“If you make me go, I’m only getting water for myself.”

“I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Uugh. No, I don’t.” Ernesto groans, rubbing his eyes before dropping his head back against the couch’s backrest. He grimaces towards the kitchen. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Three in the morning.”

“What! Where has the evening gone!”

“Where has the entire day gone, we began discussing this over lunch,” Héctor mutters, laying upside-down with his legs over the backrest.

He is not wrong, really: they have quite literally spent half a day and much of the night discussing where to go from there. They talked through lunch, through the afternoon with Coco passing from one set of arms to another whenever she was not napping, talked while Héctor changed her diapers with a frequency Ernesto found frankly concerning given the child’s small size. They took a brief break from talking while walking their dogs - best to be careful with their words outside - and feeding Coco respectively. 

More talking ensued as they put Coco in her playpen to watch a cartoon, as they cooked dinner, as they ate it, as Coco fell asleep cuddled up to Pepita while the dogs watched with envy from outside the playpen, with Dante having finally learned that trying to jump in would spell disaster. 

They discussed everything they could possibly discuss - their arrangement, how it could work going forward, whether to tell Coco, what to tell Coco once she was old enough, how to keep it private business without having to actively hide, what family members could be told and what family members could never - coming to the agreement Imelda’s brothers were probably the only ones who could be trusted, at the moment, to possibly know if it came to it.

“I never thought I’d see the day I had to say they can be trusted over our father,” Imelda said as she disappeared to put a very sleepy Coco in her crib, and Héctor and Ernesto were still snickering at the idea when she came back. They sat on the couch with a drink, resumed talking, and never stopped except for the time Coco began crying and had to be soothed by a very concerned Héctor.

Until, of course, exhaustion and thirst caught up with them at three in the damn morning. 

“So, I’m going to be the waiter from now on,” Ernesto mutters, just a little dramatically, as he finally gets off the couch to fetch everyone some water. He guzzles down a glass, fills two more, and brings them back. Héctor and Imelda drink just as greedily while he flops back down on the couch, exhausted and honestly still absolutely stunned.

“... This is-- is this really happening?” he finds himself asking, very quietly. Part of him fears this is all a dream, that he will wake up alone in his bed to find none of this has really transpired. The other two pause, look back down at him - and maybe Ernesto let something vulnerable show a bit too much, because suddenly they’re both leaning down with the clear intention of giving him a kiss. Exactly at the same time. 

With predictable results. 

Bonk.

“Ow!” Imelda yelps, wincing back.

“Agh! Oh God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--” Héctor frets. Imelda just slaps a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter, which just comes out of her nose with a honking sound. Ernesto just laughs, his own head unscathed but oddly light. Yes, this is happening. He couldn't have dreamed up something so stupid if he’d tried. 

It is happening, he thinks. We’re giving this a chance, he thinks. For the love of God don’t fuck it up, he tells himself, but says none of those things aloud. He just laughs until he has to catch his breath and it dies down in a snicker. That’s when Imelda leans down to kiss him briefly, this time without bumping her head against Héctor’s.

“I think that means we’re officially too tired to function,” she says. “Let’s go to bed.”

Ah. Right. It is three in the morning. Ernesto clears his throat and sits up. “Of course-- I’ll drop by after lunch, then, so we can go rehearse--”

Imelda pinches his earlobe. “Who said anything about you leaving?” she asks, an eyebrow raised. Ernesto’s words die in his throat. 

Right. Yes. This is happening.

Not that anything physical is going to happen just yet. They are all much too tired to do anything other than shuffling into the bedroom as quietly as they can - “whoever wakes her up has to calm her down”, Imelda threatens - and changing their night clothes - it is odd, finding one of his nightshirts still in their closet, washed and neatly folded - before they flop on the bed. 

At least, Ernesto and Héctor flop down on it. Imelda is decidedly more dignified, and leans down between them. Héctor pulls her close, and immediately holds out the other arm for Ernesto with a grin. Part of him is still wondering if he’s dreaming this, really, but when he slides closer, leaning against Imelda’s body with Héctor’s arm around him, again he knows he will not awaken alone after all. He smiles. 

“Your arms are freakishly long,” he mutters, very romantically, causing Héctor to snort. 

“Oh, thanks, amigo,” he mutters, but his hand keeps resting on Ernesto’s side. “Don’t hear you complain when I give the best hugs ever given.”

“That’s debatable, who decided it is you to give--”

“I said--” Imelda cuts him off, then yawns. Loudly, and without bothering to put up a hand against her mouth. “Sleep,” she mumbled, settling her head back down, forehead against Héctor’s chest and one hand resting on Ernesto’s forearm around her waist. It’s not clear whether it’s an order or just a declaration of what she’s about to do, but they do take it as an order. 

They are, after all, exhausted. There will be time to marvel over getting all of this back in the morning; for now, Ernesto leans down his head, closes his eyes, and sleeps basking in their warmth.

***

***

They get to sleep a grand total of two hours and a half before they awaken to a chorus of wailing, barking, yapping and yowling. It’s hard to tell what started first - Ernesto apparently would put money on the wailing, though Imelda is ready to counter-bet a chihuahua yapped first  - but the fact stays, someone needs to go put an end to it before half the condo is at the door with murderous intentions.

Thankfully, Héctor is out of bed almost immediately. He’s still sleepy and misses the door the first time, hitting the wall before stumbling out with a murmured ‘I’m fine’ to go make sure no horrid monster has attacked Coco in her crib. In his haste he leaves the door open, and two chihuahuas as well as the cat rush in, with the small dogs yapping and trying without success to jump up on the bed. 

The other two as well as Dante clearly decided to stay behind and watch Héctor’s baby-soothing operation. Imelda stifles a yawn, bringing a hand up to her mouth. “Those dogs are not allowed on the bed,” she says the instant Ernesto moves to pick them up, just as Pepita jumps to settle down next to her head.

Ernesto scowls. “That’s favoritism,” he points out, and a little monster yaps as though to agree. One of them whines, clearly trying to move her into relenting. Imelda remains entirely unmoved. 

“Pepita is clean,” she replies, reaching over to scratch Pepita behind the ears. Her green eyes, fixed on Ernesto, narrow. Hard to tell whether it is in pleasure for the ear scratch or in displeasure for the man back on her owners’ bed, but if it’s the latter, she will have to get used to it.

Ernesto makes a face. “I can’t imagine it’s hygienic.”

“She grooms herself for hours on end--” 

“With her it tongue, that’s not cleaning a thing--”

“Well, it’s more than dogs do. I have only ever seen them use their dogs only ever use their tongues to lick--”

“They’re clean! I bathe them every week!“

Imelda blinks. In the next room over, Coco’s wails are quieting down. “... You do?” 

“With a very expensive dog shampoo, too. I advertised it on my Instagram account - I mean, their Instagram account. Didn’t you see?”

Ah. That. “I think I unfollowed both when we-- broke things off,” Imelda admits, causing Ernesto to frown. “It stung,” she adds quickly. “Seeing you.”

“Ah.” He clears his throat. “Well, I-- I haven’t been posting a lot, so you haven’t missed much. Should get back to it. I think the dogs have more followers than I do at this point.”

“Well, they are cute. I suppose,” Imelda concedes. Pepita jumps off the bed, clearly satisfied with her dose of scritches, and is followed outside by both chihuahuas. Imelda props herself up on her elbow. “You should try with shirtless photos,”she adds. It’s mostly meant as a joke, but Ernesto is clearly considering it. 

“I already posted plenty. And a couple where I was only wearing a--”

“I mean, more shirtless photos,” Imelda rectifies, very much aware of what photos he is referring to. Unlike Héctor, whose social media accounts are bereft of any sign of life aside for the occasional photo of a guitar, a music sheet, or Imelda going over his latest work, Ernesto is very much active and not precisely trying to disguise the fact his sexuality is ‘yes’.

“I guess I could take a trip to the beach for a few more shots, after we’re back from Santa Cecilia...” he muses, and Imelda is about to ask if they’re meant to join him for that trip to the beach when Héctor walks back in, a triumphant grin on his face and phone in hand.

“She’s sleeping! Look!” he whisper-exclaims, and gets right back in bed between them before he proceeds to show them thirty identical photos of Coco sleeping. “Isn’t she the most beautiful little girl?”

“She is,” Imelda agrees with a small grin, leaning her chin on Héctor’s shoulder. “Not that I’m biased or anything.”

Ernesto scoffs. “You absolutely are.”

“Not everyone is your mamá, Ernesto,” Héctor snickers, elbowing him. “Telling everyone within earshot how handsome you were going to be once you shed your baby fat.”

“Well she was right, I did turn out-- what! She never said that, pendejo!” He huffs, giving Héctor’s shoulder a shove that almost sends him flying off the bed. He laughs it off, flopping back down. 

“She did too, Ernestito! Heard with my own ears!”

“Mph. Your stupid elephant ears.”

Héctor’s expression turns coy. “Ah, what can I say, it’s my cross to bear. Much like a dick a couple of inches longer than yours…”

“It’s not, Héctor!”

“Is too! We checked with Imelda’s measuring tape, remember?”

“... You did what with my measuring tape now?”

“We had a disagreement to settle, mi amor.”

“And we found it’s-- maybe an inch longer! At most! And mine is thicker, too!”

“Oh no, it was longer than that. Need me to refresh your memory?”

“We can arrange that, if you let me catch another couple of hours of sleep,” Imelda mutters, causing the squabble to die down. There is some grumbling, a few more shoves, but soon enough they’re all settled to sleep again, basking in the warmth and enjoying blissful silence.

For another fifty minutes.

***

“Oh my God!”

“Gah!”

“Wha--??”

Héctor barely catches himself before he falls off the bed, flailing his arms and only narrowly missing Imelda’s face. He reaches to turn on the bedside lamp, and sits up to look over to the other side of the bed where Ernesto is sitting upright, hair tousled, a horrified expression on his face as though he just awakened from the worst nightmare a human mind can conceive. 

“Ernesto? What is it?” Imelda is asking, concern plain in her voice. She puts a hand on Ernesto’s forearm and he looks back at them, eyes wide and skin ashen. 

“Oh my God, ” he repeats. “My mother has seen my Instagram.”

Ah, Héctor thinks. 

“Ah,” he says, mind already wandering to some photos that are probably not meant for the eyes of one’s own mother. 

“Oh,” Imelda repeats, clearly thinking the same. 

They succeed in staying serious for almost five seconds before Héctor cracks, and Imelda is quick to follow. 

“Pffft…”

“Heh…”

“She has been looking up my account for ages-- she even mentioned it, I had forgotten-- what if my father-- stop laughing!” his voice comes out a whine, and it’s what entirely undoes them. “This is serious! Stop laughing! I’ll have to look her in the eye when we go back for Coco’s christening! I-- uuugh!” Ernesto lets himself drop back on the pillow with a groan, covering his face with an arm. “I hate you both.”

“No, you do not.” Héctor grins down at him and, while Ernesto scoffs, he fails to say otherwise. 

“If she brings it up, I will dig myself a grave and crawl in it.”

Imelda snickers, leaning across his chest. “If they’re that terrible I don’t think she’ll want to bring them up.”

He pulls his arm off his eyes, frowning a little. “Not that I’m naked in those photos, I’m not an idiot, but I--” he trails off with a sudden intake of breath when Imelda’s hand slips beneath his nightshirt, across his chest. Héctor sits back a moment, watching them - Imelda’s tousled hair and the strap of the nightgown falling off her shoulder, the way Ernesto arches a little at her touch. 

It’s not the most alluring sight he’s ever laid his eyes on, but it comes pretty close - and it hits him suddenly, the realization that they have this again. It leaves a lump in his throat and a dumb smile spreading on his face while he watches Imelda lean in and kiss Ernesto’s lips. When they break apart, Ernesto’s breathing is quicker and his eyes wide. 

Imelda grins, and tugs at his nightshirt. “Since we clearly are getting no more sleep this morning, would you mind getting this out of the way and let me take your mind off your mother going through embarrassing Instagram photos?”

Ernesto is sitting up and pulling the shirt up over his head before she’s even done speaking, but he doesn’t get to take it off - not before Héctor moves suddenly to pull them both in his arms, and squeeze tight. 

“Agh!”

“What the--”

“Really?”

“And here I was trying to be seductive,” Imelda mutters, face pressed against Héctor’s chest.

“It was a very good effort,” Ernesto informs her, head still tangled in the shirt. 

“Thanks.”

“Unfortunately, you married an idiot.”

“Oh, like you didn’t stick to the idiot long before I got him to put a ring on it.”

“What can I say, I felt bad for him.”

“... You guys realize I can hear you, right?”

“No doubt you can, with those ears,” Ernesto mutters, voice still muffled by the shirt wrapped around his head. “Can you let me go now?”

“Do I have to?”

“If you want us to get anything done before Coco needs breakfast, yes,” Imelda says against his chest. “Now, if you’d let go and fetch the lube and condoms…” she adds, and Héctor is off them and across the room so fast he almost topples on the floor. 

With most of his blood flow already getting redirected in his nether regions, Ernesto’s power of thought may not be at his highest. However, as he gets the shirt off his head and throws it off the side of the bed, he does pause a moment to think. Or try to. Something is definitely different. 

“Condoms? Not on the pill anymore?”

“Not yet. It already failed, anyway, and I really am not ready for another little miracle. At least if the condom breaks we’ll notice right away.” She reaches up to brush back his hair, and leans against him. She is warm against his bare chest, her lips so close to Ernesto’s own. Her nails rake lightly down the back of his neck, and he swallows. “But it shouldn’t happen, if you know how to put one on properly.”

He makes a face. “Well, of course I know how to put on a--” Ernesto begins, and then trails off. The amount of blood going straight to his cock is making it very hard to think about anything else, but he’s not yet so far gone he can’t catch the meaning of her words. He stares at Imelda, mouth hanging open.

There are...few things they did not at least experiment with throughout the relationship, but at no point did Ernesto get to be in her. Not with his cock, anyway. It simply never happened, Ernesto would think, but he knows deep down that was not it. It was a line Imelda did not want to cross, the one that marked the difference between her husband and the annoying-- acquaintance -- friend turned unlikely lover. Something Héctor could have while he could not. Until now.

He should try and play it cool, of course. Get cocky and say he’s glad she changed her mind there, she has no idea what she has missed out on. Instead, he sputters.

“What-- are you-- sure?”

Imelda’s expression turns coy, a finger running down his chest. “Well, if you’re afraid to disappoint…”

What!

“What!” Ernesto huffs, crossing his arms. “For your information, I never disappoint.”

“Sofía told me otherwise.”

“Sofía should mind her own-- wait a moment, since when are the two of you on gossiping terms?” he asks, just a hint of panic making it to his voice as he tries to run the numbers on the amount of ammunition Sofía may have to use against him. Unaware of his worry, or maybe all too aware of it and hiding it very well, Imelda shrugs. 

“She ordered a pair of shoes and we got talking.”

Talking about what, Ernesto wants to ask, but before he can open his mouth Héctor is back on the bed and kissing his shoulder, causing him to trail off and his breath to catch a moment.

“Here,” Héctor smiles against his skin, pressing a condom in his hand. “Put it to good use, we have no others left until we restock.”

Despite the rising heat, his own quickening breath and the by now unbearable friction of underwear on his erection, Ernesto raises an eyebrow. “That busy, even with the baby?”

“Not really. It’s that Dante found the box.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, ah. The vet judged me the entire time. Not that he said anything, but--”

“... Surely we can have this conversation another time?” Imelda intervenes, tapping her fingers against Ernesto’s chest in a motion that is… a little more annoyed than seductive now. Héctor blushes a little, and gives a sheepish grin. 

“Heh. Right,” he says, and without warning he suddenly pushes Ernesto forward, causing him to fall over on top of Imelda. He barely catches himself, hands braced against the mattress, and almost protests - but then he looks down to see Imelda leaning on her back beneath him, head between his arms and hair spread across the pillow. Her skin is flushed, and ah, the way she looks at him. If one could bottle that look to sell it, they’d make billions.

“I can’t help but feel I’m terribly overdressed for the occasion,” she tells him, and starts unbuttoning her nightgown. She barely makes it to half the buttons before Ernesto’s mouth comes down on hers, hard. She melts into the kiss in a way he cannot recall her ever doing before, fingers tangling in his hair and Christ - Christ - it is almost worth the long months without them, waking up in his own bed.

Ah, it’s good to be home.

“Ah--” Imelda sighs and throws back her head while Ernesto’s mouth trails down her throat, to her breasts. He only stops with a startled gasp against her nipple when a pair of familiar hands pull off his boxers, and a very familiar finger begins to probe as him, slick with lube. 

“Oh, don’t mind me back here,” Héctor calls out, and Ernesto can almost feel the grin in his voice when he slides the finger in, slowly but without hesitation, getting another gasp out of Ernesto he barely muffles against Imelda’s skin. “Want me to put on the condom for you while I’m at it? You look busy,” he adds. His other hand closes on Ernesto’s cock in a soft squeeze, and he almost cries out.

“Christ-- don’t do that!” he pants, suddenly terrified he’s going to just come like that, before anything can happen. Héctor chuckles, but does pull back the hand. The other hand pushes in another finger, sending more shivers up his back. God, he’s shaking - this is bliss, never enough and yet too much, how can he possibly hold himself together?

“That horny?” Héctor asks lightly, as though conversing over a glass of wine. Ernesto snarls.

“I’m about to fuck your wife, what do you think?”

“Ah, good point.”

Beneath him Imelda, who somehow managed to unbutton the rest of her nightgown and shrug it off, laughs and forces his head back by the hair to kiss his mouth. He doesn’t resist - how can he resist? - and only lets out a noise of surrender. The finger within him retreats and Héctor is leaning across his back, putting the condom on him with surprisingly delicate fingers. His own cock presses against Ernesto’s thigh, hard and hot and already slick with lube. When he pulls back, Ernesto lets out a whine. 

“Don’t bother with fingers,” he groans. “I can take it-- por favor--”

A kiss on the back of his neck, just as Imelda’s mouth presses on his throat. She has a leg on either side of Ernesto, and his cock brushes against the warm skin on the inside of her thigh. It is only a soft brush, but it’s almost unbearable on heated flesh. He lets out a shuddering breath, and glances down to meet her eyes. 

Are you sure?, he asks without words, and Imelda responds just as wordlessly, pulling his mouth down on hers and arching beneath him. Whatever shred of self-control Ernesto had left is annihilated and he kisses her back, frantic, before pushing his hips forward purely out of instinct and oh--

He slides in so easily and for a long, blissful moment, Ernesto forgets how to breathe or move or think. There is only that tight heat, Imelda’s scent in his nostrils and her breath against the side of his neck as she clenches around him - the soft moan filling his ears and the nails sinking in the skin of his shoulders.

And then Héctor is bearing down on him, mouth on the back of his neck and weight across his back, pushing into him unbearably slowly and all too fast at once. Everything is too much. Nothing is enough. He wants and needs and yearns and yet it’s everything he could possibly ask for, and more. 

As much as he enjoyed the strap-on and Héctor’s ass, this might just be the best variation of Ernesto sandwich he’s ever had.

“Pepita got your tongue?” Héctor chuckles against his ear, settling deep into him, resting his chin on his shoulder and glancing over at Imelda. “You good?” he breathes. Imelda lifts her head to kiss his lips. Her skin is flushed, eyes half-lidded. 

“Oh, yes,” she says, and kisses Ernesto’s neck again. “You are thicker, I’ll give you that,” she whispers, perfectly audible to Héctor, whose chuckling protests are not very believable. Her hand cups Ernesto’s cheek, her fingers calloused from working leather. “Don’t worry about a thing,” she murmurs, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. “We’ll take good care of you.”

“Christ--” Ernesto pants, and manages to lift himself up on his elbows just enough to get some weight off her, and rest his forehead on hers. He’s so acutely aware of everything - the smoothness of her skin and Héctor’s chest hair against his back, her hand cupping his cheek and his chin on his shoulder, the heat around his cock and the cock in him. “I don’t know-- how long I can last,” he manages to admit. 

“Ah, don’t worry about that, amigo,” Héctor speaks, and tilts his hips, sending a jolt of pleasure up Ernesto’s spine and tearing a gasp out of him. “Wouldn’t be the first time. And we can do this whenever we wish…”

He says something else after that, or Imelda does, but none of their words makes it to Ernesto’s brain. They start moving in tandem, in him and around him and on him and beneath, and it is all that Ernesto can think of or feel. It is all he wants to feel right now. 

The moans that leave him are louder than advisable, with Coco sleeping just a couple of rooms over, but Imelda is quick to muffle any noise he makes with a kiss. Good move, that.

None of them is in the right state of mind to go soothe a cranky baby, after all.

***

[Back]

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[bssaz97]

Meeting Xing and Citrine Part 3

A/N: Time for the third installment of a collaboration between @tanakaclinkbeard and myself. Features his OC kids (Xing Xiao-Long and Citrine Rose Arc) going to my AU and mine (Rowan and Summer) going to his. If you would like to see how they’re doing go check out his blog. Now on with the show!

- Xiao Long Residence -

Taiyang crouches down as he keeps the watering can in his hand, tending to his sunflower bed in front of his cabin home. The veteran Huntsman now grown old and even grew a nice beard during his free time, enjoying his recent retirement.

Ruby: Morning Dad!

Taiyang lifted up his head as he recognized that voice from anywhere, a warm smile graced his face as he got up to greet his daughter’s family.

Taiyang: Petal, what brings you byyyyyyy-

Taiyang loses his train of thought as both his daughters walk up the path but he sees two entirely new young children who were not the grandchildren he was expecting.

Yang: Hey Dad, we got two kiddos that we’d like to introduce to you

Citrine lets out a cheer and runs up and jumps into Tai's arm.

Citrine: Grandpappy!

Xing with his eyes still red from crying never left Yang's side and clutched her pants leg, giving Tai a wave and doesn't really look at anything but the ground.

Xing: Hi.

Taiyang: Um, Hi there. Ruby? Yang??

Citrine proceeded to climb up Taiyang like she did Ruby before.

Taiyang: Whoa! Haha, easy there, this old man ain’t what he used to be.

Citrine giggles and looks up and gives Tai a big hug.

Citrine: Missed you!

Tai was still a bit confused as to what was going on, but hugs the tiny girl in his arms nonetheless.

Taiyang: Girls, perhaps he can continue this conversation inside?

Ruby: That sounds fair.

____________________

Taiyang: So these two are from another universe where you are married to Jaune, you get pregnant and have a child, while both Rowan and Summer were sent to their universe.

Yang: Basically.

Taiyang: And this was done because...?

Ruby: We’re still not entirely sure.

Xing listened to the adults silently, never saying a word, but in his eyes there was a touch of sadness. While this man may look like his grandfather, it was clear to him that this was not the same grandfather he knew, and therefore did not immediately recognize him or Citrine as his own.

Yang: But they are two great kids and were happy to meet them!

Taiyang: Well while I’m happy to have more grandchildren, won’t their parents be worried sick if they find them missing?

Xing is still holding on to Yang while Citrine bounces around.

Citrine: What’s this? What’s that? Where’s Uncle Zwei? Is he back yet?

Taiyang: Uncle... Zwei?

Ruby: Yes their Uncle Zwei who’s definitely related to us and is your son, right Daddy?

Xing wordless takes out his scroll and hands it to Tai showing the same picture he showed Yang and Ruby earlier.

Taiyang: ....OH! I see, right of course, Zwei! Oh that son of mine. He’s ah... on a mission right now, just missed him.

Citrine: Awww! I wanted to see him. Does he have a different haircut? Does he have kids? Am I older than them?! Xing! Don't you wanna know?

Xing: ....Not really.

A bark is then heard coming from the kitchen.

Taiyang: .... Uh oh.

Xing looks up as well as Citrine who sequels

Citrine: Puppy?!

Xing once again does not move from where Yang was, still clutching on to her.

She gets ready to bolt where the barking is from, but Ruby gets up just in the nick of time.

Ruby: (‘SHOOT! I completely forgot about our Zwei being at Dad’s house!’) Um, Citrine, wait sweetie!

Citrine stops and gives her alt mother a pouty look.

Citrine: But puppy mama!

Ruby: Well you see Sweetie, Dad’s dog is a big old and needs to be handled delicately.

Just then the black and white corgi comes in from the kitchen, tongue out and moving about as youthful as ever, despite the few gray spots here and there.

Zwei: *Barks!*

Yang: Delicately sis? Really?

Citrine gasp and runs up to pick him up.

Citrine: Soooo cuteeeee!

Zwei (corgi) then starts to lick at her face.

Xing: Oh. That's what he looks like here.... that's weird.

Yang: Man you sure are smart kid. ‘Sniff’ So proud…

Xing blushes and hides his face.

Xing: Thank you.

Ruby: ‘sigh.’ Well since the dog is out of the bag- Shut it Yang! I should just tell her. I hope she’ll understand though… Sweetie can I talk to you a minute please?

Citrine: I can still hold him right? Pleaseeee?

Ruby: Of course.

Xing: ...My head hurts mom. Can I leave the room?

Yang: Hm? Oh sure thing Xing, you can rest in one of the rooms upstairs if you want.

Xing gets up and wordless goes up stairs as Citrine walks up to Ruby.

Ruby: Now sweetie, you know I love you right?

Citrine: Ye!

Ruby: Ok good, because I have something to confess.... I haven’t been entirely truthful to you.

Citrine: Huh?

Ruby: I may have told you a half truth because I didn’t want to confuse you or make you sad but now I realize that by hiding this truth from you that I’m also going to hurt you. So I’m very sorry that I had to keep it secret, but understand I did from a place of love. ‘Sigh’.... Citrine. That corgi you’re holding. That’s Zwei.

Citrine gives Ruby a blank stare for a few minutes

Citrine: .....Why does the puppy have the same name as uncle Zwei?

Ruby: No sweetie, what I’m saying is... This IS our Zwei. I don’t have a brother in my world. So... he doesn’t exist here.

Citrine looks even more confused.

Citrine: But.... you said he was on a mission.

Ruby: I know, I know what I said... I-I only said that because I didn’t want you to find this out right away. I wanted to spare you that pain and didn’t want to make you feel confused.

Citrine: ....I don't get it....

Yang: Citrine, you know how me and your mommy are not like us right? We’re different.

She nods, still petting the corgi in her arms.

Yang: Well it’s kinda like that, like how we’re different from your Mommy and Auntie Yang, our world is also different.

Citrine stared at them for a while before smiling widely.

Citrine: Okay! Can I show Xing the puppy?

Ruby: Sure thing sweetie.

She jumped up, it was clear to both of them that she didn't really understand, and wanted to move from her spot. She ran up stairs to where Xing was.

Taiyang: I’m still not entirely sure what is going on, but I do hope she and Xing are alright, this must all be very confusing for them.

Yang: Yeah... no kidding.

A scream was heard from upstairs as Citrine cried Yang's name out.

Citrine: Autine Yang! Star's noise is bleeding!

Yang: What?!

All three members of the Xiao-Long household quickly ran up the stairs and went to a room which had an open door.

Citrine was crying holding on to Xing, who was clutching his nose looking embarrassed at the wall. A Lot of blood was pouring from his noise, staining his clothes.

Citrine: Xing please don't die!

Xing looked at the adults awkwardly.

Xing: …Hi.

Yang: Oh gods Xing! Uh I mean, it’s ok, look we’ll get you clean up. Dad can you get some tissues, soap, and a clean shirt?

Taiyang: Sure thing.

Ruby: Oh Xing, what happened? How’d this happen?

Xing: Um... my powers are acting up.

Taiyang comes back with all the things .

Taiyang: I’m back, what'd I miss?

Yang: Powers? Xing what are you talking about?

Xing: Do- Do you guys have maledictus-eris here?

Ruby eyes widened just for a moment upon hearing those words.

Ruby: What did you just say...?

Xing: Auntie?

Yang: Oh gods.... Shoot, where’s Ren when you need him? Look sweetie, don’t worry, let’s just get you cleaned up real quick.

Xing: Uncle Ren and Zwei usually helps me... Da long doesnt like me....

Taiyang: Da Long?

Ruby: Look Xing, sweetie, I need you to listen to me carefully. How many times has your nose been bleeding like this?

Xing: Like as of today?

Ruby: As far as you can remember.

Xing: Um. Since I was 5.

Ruby: ....We need to get him to Anima.

Yang: Wait now?

Ruby: Yes now Yang. {turns to Citrine} Sweetie, want to go see Auntie Nora and Uncle Ren?

Taiyang: Wait can someone explain what’s going on?

Yang: Ruby he can’t travel like this.

Ruby: I know! I just- I’m trying to think.

Citrine cheers and then goes quiet and gets nervous.

Citrine: Um... is Valerie there?

Ruby/Yang: ....ah crud.

Xing: Valerie isn't gonna be there Citrine. She is back at home.

Citrine: .....

Xing: I can survive the trip mom.

Yang: Are you sure? You don’t need to rest or anything?

Xing: I just want Da long to leave me alone.... I'm... I'm not weak!

Yang: ....Ok then, then let’s go to Anima. Lucky for us, I know a quick way to get there.

Xing nods and lays back on bed.

Yang leaves the room briefly and pulls out her scroll and dials a number.

Yang: Hey it’s me. Listen I know it’s short notice, but... I need a favor. Can you get us to Anima today?

-Fin-

[ecoamerica]

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[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Fool For You (2/4)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader 

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: Part 2 of a request for @mynameisliterallycash!

When Lester said he was getting dog food, you figured he meant one or two small bags. Instead, you watched as he hefted two huge bulk bags of food over his shoulder. They each had to weigh around fifty pounds and he carried them like they were nothing. Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped, awestruck by the casual display of muscle.

Dazed still, you trailed after him to the checkout. While he made idle chatter with the clerk, he was completely unaware you were wrapped up in an entirely different check out of your own. Heat rose to your cheeks, allured by Lester’s physical strength as daydreams of him literally sweeping you off your feet flooded your thoughts. He turned around, snapping you back to reality as you tried to wipe the dopey expression off your face.

“Alright then, ya ready to –” Lester stopped short, sending you a puzzled look, “Hey are ya okay?”

“What? Of course, I am. Why are you asking?” you responded rapidly, embarrassed you’d been caught staring a third time.

“Ya sure? Ya look a little red. Ya ain’t gettin’ sick or nothin’, are ya?” Lester said concerned. He reached out his free hand and pressed its back against your forehead, “Don’t feel like ya got a fever.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you stuttered, his hand against your head sending static through your brain as you tried to come up with an excuse, “It’s just from the cold air today, I think.”  

“Okay, if ya say so.” Lester shrugged as he gestured for you to follow him out the door. You cleared your throat, thankful for the gust of wind that cooled the fire trapped in your face.  

“You sure you don’t need help with those?” you asked.  

“These? Nah, they ain’t so bad,” Lester responded, “You oughta see some of the bucks I gotta haul ‘round. Damn things weigh a ton! Nearly threw out my back once tryin’ to throw one on the truck.”

“Never knew you were a regular strongman. I guess it never occurred to me the deer can’t carry their own dead weight.” You said with growing admiration.

“That’s what I’m there for!” Lester said gleefully as he tossed the bags in the back. He closed the bed and rested against the truck as he crossed his arms.

“Well, thanks for taking me along for the ride, anyway.” You said, leaning next to him.

“Sure thing! I love bringin’ ya ‘long like this,” Lester told you, affectionately nudging you with his elbow, “I’ll tell ya, havin’ someone to talk to wouldn’t hurt during my day job neither. Might go a long way makin’ some of the time go by. Gets a little too quiet drivin’ ‘round all day all by myself.”

“Well, would you mind if I tagged along once in a while?” you proposed, looking up at him.

“Ya’d do that? I mean, ya’d really want to?” Lester asked excitedly, “It can get kinda gnarly.”

“Sure. Why not? Can’t be any gnarlier than Bo on a bad day. It’s got to be better than sitting around getting old in Ambrose.” You said, smiling back at him.

“Ya really don’t have to, if ya don’t want.” He said, giving you the option changing your mind.

“I know I don’t, but I would really like to go with you. That is, if you don’t mind.” You could practically see him vibrating with joy.

“Mind? Course I don’t mind! We’re gonna have so much fun together, I promise! Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best!” he exclaimed, elated. He jumped up from the truck and wrapped you up in a tight hug, swinging you back and forth. You couldn’t contain you laughter, even if you couldn’t breathe with the way he was squeezing you.

Lester set you back down, leaving you with only a ghost of the feeling of his warm embrace. You lingered in place trying to memorize the sensation while he went ahead to open the passenger door for you without a second thought. Once you were seated, he closed the door and got back in beside you. He threw you a carefree smile as you took off once again.

The two of you made lighthearted conversation on the way back to Lester’s cabin. You started going back and forth about the art of catching various animals that try to make a home in your garbage. Well, it was mostly Lester walking you through the process, breaking it down by species. You listened to how he had basically mastered the art of pest wrangling without killing them. Your heart swelled hearing how insistent he was that killing them wasn’t necessary. He never wanted to hurt anyone or anything if he could help it.

You were just about to ask him a question, when he abruptly hit the brakes. You both lurched forward before falling back into your seats. You glanced around, collecting yourself from the sudden stop.

“Is everything okay? Why’d you stop?” He didn’t answer, as he began to carefully scan your surroundings, “What are you looking for? Lester?”  

“There she is!” Lester shouted, pressing his face up against his window, totally distracted from your questions. He smiled back at you over his shoulder, “Follow me!” He threw his door open without another word and jumped out, anxiously waiting for you to join him.

“Follow you where? Wait for me!” you called after him. You swiftly slid out of the car and onto the ground, clueless as to why you stopped here of all places. Lester darted ahead, chasing something you couldn’t see. You did your best to follow close, but he ducked down into the grass. You jogged to where he disappeared to find him on his knees, reveling in an assault of kisses from a delighted stray dog. Surprise took over your features, thrilled to be meeting a new friend.

“I missed ya too, girl!” Lester gasped through his uncontrollable laughter, echoing through the woods, “Ya been good a doggy? I bet ya have! Hope ya ain’t been too lonely out here!”

“Who’s this, Lester?” you asked in gentle voice, immediately enamored with the dog before you. She was about Jonesy’s size, with a blonde shaggy coat. She looked young with energy and enthusiasm that gave Lester a run for his money.

“Oh, Y/N! I’d like ya to meet Buttercup!” Lester said as he separated himself from the dog’s abundance of affection, “Buttercup, this is my friend Y/N!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Buttercup.” You said as you got down to offer your hand for a sniff. Buttercup took a few whiffs before deciding you were in fact a friend. Her tail wagged back and forth as she allowed you to pet her as well, “She’s so cute, Lester!”

“I know! Ain’t she the sweetest?” Lester concurred, “I found her snoozin’ in a patch of buttercups, so that’s what I started callin’ her!”

“How long has she been here?” you asked, scratching Buttercup behind the ears as she jumped up to rest her front paws on Lester’s shoulders, licking his face once more.

“A while now, I see a few strays runnin’ ‘round while I’m workin’. So, I try and visit with ‘em, if I can. But I left some bowls to fill when I’m on my route, case they get hungry.” Lester managed to gesture to an empty bowl a few feet away from you despite being smothered by more kisses. That explained the industrial sized bags of food. “Speaking of which – you hungry, Buttercup?” she barked in response.

Lester grabbed the bowl and jogged back to the truck to fill it with Buttercup in tow. Your eyes followed after him, the dopey look returning to your face. He conversed with Buttercup like an old friend as he scooped out her food. He was so attentive and kind, listening to her response and matching her excitement. They made their way back to you, thick as thieves. Lester set the bowl down when he made it back next to you, petting Buttercup while she dug into her meal, “Now, don’t eat so fast ya get sick, there’s plenty where that came from. Ole Lester’s got ya covered.”

You let out a deep sigh, endeared by the scene before you. Lester treated every person and creature with such consideration and care; and he never asked for anything in return. He had so much love in his heart and he was willing to share it with anyone who wanted it. With as much as he gives to everyone else, you wondered if anyone had ever told him how much they care about him or appreciate his presence in their life. He deserved to have someone who could give him back all the love he put into the world.

You wanted to be the one. You would finally treat him right. He all but stole your heart and he deserved to hear it from you, even if he might not feel the same. The consequences suddenly didn’t seem to matter so much in this moment. You wanted him to know how important he really was to you, because everyone deserves to know they are loved. You needed to tell him now while you were brave enough.

“Lester, there’s something I need to tell you.” You started, heartbeat racing in your ears, drowning out all the doubt and second thoughts. He perked up, listening close.

“Ya can tell me anythin’, Y/N. Ya know that.” Lester said softly, that warm smile pulling at your heartstrings again.

“Lester…I lo–” a deafening crack of thunder cut you off. With that, Buttercup hightailed it back into hiding. You gasped as you stood, starting after her, worried she may get lost or hurt in the impending storm. You moved to run after her, “Oh no, Buttercup, wait!”

“Hold up, Y/N! Ya can’t catch her, believe me, I tried.” Lester called to stop you, “I tried gettin’ her in the truck a few times to go to a shelter, but she don’t like it. If she ain’t ready to go, we can’t make her. She’ll come ‘round when she’s ready.”

“But we can’t just leave her out here.” You said, searching the area for any sign of her.

“Don’t worry ‘bout her too much, she’s a survivor.” Lester said, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. “’Sides she’s got a little hideout not far from here. I found her there a couple times and left a few blankets after makin’ sure it wouldn’t cave in on her. It’ll keep her nice and dry ‘til this blows over. Alright? She’ll be safe, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, almost tearing up at the thought of her shivering somewhere all by herself.

“Sure as my name is Lester Sinclair. We can even come check on her tomorrow, if ya like.” Lester offered, “But we really oughta get outta here ‘fore the rain starts.”

“Okay,” you said hesitantly, “Promise we can check on her?”

“Yes ma’am, I swear. Cross my heart.” Lester assured you, drawing an X over his chest.

You both started toward the truck once more. You silently cursed the weather for interrupting your confession. The moment had passed and the doubts had returned to their work. Despite this, the affection swelling in your chest still pulled you to act on some part of it.

Without thinking too hard for once, you took Lester’s hand in yours. He glanced down to your linked hands and then back at you.

“Are ya scared of thunder storms?” He asked curiously.

“No. Why?” You responded, confused where he got that idea.

“Ya just look a little nervous is all. Thought ya might not like thunder or somethin’.” Lester explained, “I know storms used to scare the hell outta me when I was a kid. Never used to like ‘em one bit, ‘specially if I was by myself.”

“No, I kind of like storms.” You told him.

“Oh, then are your hands cold or somethin’?” Lester asked, gesturing with your connected hands, trying to understand the reason for the spontaneous handholding.

“Uh, well, not exac–”

“Cause ya look a little rosy again. Just makin’ sure ya ain’t gettin’ frostbite or nothin’.” He interjected.

“No, I’m okay.” You told him with your hundredth sigh of the day.

“Well, just in case. Take this.” He said as he released your hand and took off his hat to pull it over your eyes with a chuckle. He readjusted it on your head, revealing the way he was beaming at you. You rarely got to see him without his trusty hat. Even with his hair being a little sweaty and sticking every which way, it was still ridiculously tempting to run your fingers through. The energy radiating from him was so wholesome and pure. Looking at him, you could swear the clouds lifted and the sun was shining all of a sudden. He squeezed your cheeks in his hands, with a laugh, “There, now ain’t that better! Nice and toasty.”

“T-thanks, Les.” You stuttered, reaching up to feel the soft fabric of his hat, the heat in your cheeks only growing more intense under his hold on your face.

 “My pleasure! I gotta say ya look mighty cute right now. Helluva lot better than I ever looked.” He told you, releasing your face and patting you on the back, “Now, let’s make like Buttercup and get to shelter!”

You made it back to the truck right before the heavy rain started pouring down. Lester took off down the road again, toward his cabin. You watched through the window as the storm raged on outside, matching the storm in your mind. The time had felt so right to tell Lester everything, but now you weren’t sure. What you were sure of, however, is that you needed to tell him soon. You thought you might actually burst if you didn’t. You couldn’t keep living like this.      

[keanureevesisbae]

Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat - Chapter 16

Summary: Veterinarian Olivia Tran has zero time for bullshit. After becoming a mom at age twenty three, the one thing she wants is a good life for her daughter Vanessa. Her ex didn’t want anything to do with her nor the baby and she decided that man are officially banned out of her life. But then she meets Henry Cavill at her clinic and her ban slowly starts to crumble apart. Henry on the other hand is looking for one thing: a family. And when he meets Olivia Tran, he finds just that.

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran (ofc)

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 2.6k

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

I had been feeling a bit weird for a week now. Ever since Henry and I got back from our little getaway, I felt pretty nauseous, but I have that from time to time, so I didn’t think anything of it. Things started to get a whole lot worse, when I went back to work. I nearly vomited all over multiple dogs, because of the smell of their disgusting anal glands. Normally they don’t bother me that much. The smell isn’t my favorite of course (and I wouldn’t make a perfume out of it), but nearly vomiting because of it, that has never happened before.

I became more and more tired and my breasts start to hurt a lot more, but yet again, I didn’t suspect anything. It was until I was laying down on the couch, while Vanessa was doing groceries with Henry. Kal plopped next to me on the couch and placed his head protectively on my stomach.

And that’s when I was starting to suspect something.

I could be pregnant.

And basically this was all my fault. While I had been constantly pressing about how we are not ready to add another baby to our family yet, I hadn’t been consisted with my birth control and never once urged Henry to wear a condom.

In these four days I have been acting like a total zombie (and knew damn well why, though I claimed otherwise), I kept beating myself up about it and the longer I kept quiet about it, the more I hated myself.

I mean, Wesley ran away, so why would this time be any different? Henry could always decide that this isn’t what he wanted. Men are pigs, they have proven me that, but I was absolutely blindsided by Henry and his love, that I might have missed some signs.

After I dropped the “I think I might be pregnant”-bomb on Henry, he hasn’t said anything. He keeps on staring at me and I have no clue what he is thinking. Is he anger? Is he sad? Is he disappointed?

‘You think you are pregnant,’ he finally manages to say. ‘How are you not sure?’

Okay, he hasn’t lost his ability to communicate, that is a good sign right? ‘I haven’t taken the test yet.’

He nods and simply stares at me. Why is that making me uncomfortable? He needs to say something!

‘I have been pretty tired,’ I whisper, ‘and nauseous and my breasts hurt. Then Kal placed his head on my stomach, in a way he never did.’ I let out a shaky sigh and add: ‘And also, I have been pretty inconsistent with my birth control and we have been having a lot of… You know, we engaged in tons of unsafe bedroom activities.’

He is still not saying anything.

‘Henry, please, just say something to me.’ Tears burn in my eyes, while my doubts turn into realities. He doesn’t want me, nor Vanessa, nor this possible baby. ‘You know, I should go, I’m really sorry.’

‘Why are you apologizing?’ he asks, stopping me in my tracks with his words.

Now I don’t know what to say. ‘Why shouldn’t I be apologizing?’

‘This is what we wanted, right?’

Is he serious?

Come to think of it, of course he is serious. I mean, I feel like that man was totally ready to get me pregnant the second I agreed to having a kid with him in the future.

I really shouldn’t have underestimated him.

‘Sweetheart,’ he whispers, ‘you shouldn’t feel guilty about not being consisted with your birth control. Besides it takes two people to get pregnant and we don’t even know for sure yet, do we now?’

I shake my head, because he is right. It does take two people to get pregnant.

‘You haven’t taken a test yet and since you haven’t been taking your birth control steadily, isn’t it possible that you can get your period any minute now?’

‘Henry, it’s been six to seven weeks since I last had my period.’

He blinks. ‘Oh.’

‘I’m so scared,’ I whisper in a hoarse tone, with a voice crack in the process. ‘I’m really scared.’

‘Why is that, sweetheart?’ He takes a step closer to me, his hands holding onto mine.

‘Because so much is going to change,’ I say. ‘And what if you leave?’

He shakes his head. ‘I get that you are scared,’ he says, ‘because so much is going to change, that is true. But you have to remember: I’m right here. I’m right here with you and I’m not leaving you. Sweetheart, I’m no Wesley, please remember that. I’m am currently no Wesley, nor will I ever lower myself to be him. I’m here for you to stay. Every step of this journey.’ He pulls me closer to him, before he wraps his strong arms around my waist. ‘The second you and I get home,’ he tells me, ‘I’m going to buy a test for you.’

My heart swells with nothing but love. How on earth could I have underestimated this man? This beautiful human, who has shown me nothing but love and compassion. I feel so stupid now for thinking that low of him. ‘I know this might be hard for you,’ I tell him, ‘but could you please not say anything to anyone?’

‘I’m going to try,’ he chuckles, his cheeks a little bit more pinkish than before, maybe from happiness or hold in tears. ‘It might be a challenge, but I’m going to try.’ Henry presses kisses in my neck and whispers: ‘I’m so happy, sweetheart. I can’t believe that this is truly happening. Not only will I be a dad to Vanessa, but to a possible other kid too.’

This is such a different reaction. I still have nightmares about the disgusted look on Wesley’s face when I told him I was pregnant for real. I only think I’m pregnant now and Henry is ready to set up the entire nursery. ‘I love you so much, Henry. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I truly am.’

‘Oh sweetheart,’ he whispers, leaning back a bit, so he can look at me. ‘You don’t need to feel sorry, ever. I understand you were scared, especially with what that idiot Wesley did.’ He gives me a long kiss on my lips. ‘But remember, sweetheart, I love you more.’

≫≫≪≪

It feels good to have told Henry. I was pretty stupid for thinking that he would leave me for this. I mean, we are talking about Henry. Henry Cavill. During the rest of our visit at his parents house, he kept beaming with pride and everyone was wondering what the hell was going on inside his head. When we were a bit secluded from his family, he kept kissing me, touching me and I never felt more loved.

He kept his promise. The second we got home, he went out for some groceries, giving me time to cuddle up with Vanessa. We are on the couch as I spoon my little girl as we watch some television. When Vanessa was younger, I made these idiotic and unrealistic measurements: no television, no sweets. Now I turn on the television myself, because I want to know what Winnie the Pooh is about to do now.

But I do realize, that as soon as we add another baby into the mix, it’s all going to be different and what is happening here, will not happen again.

I think Vanessa would be a great big sister. I know she would. She keeps on telling me that she’ll be such a wonderful big sister and I believe her right away. Though I don’t like Bettie’s mom, Bettie herself is a pretty sweet kid and Vanessa is such a sweetheart to all of Bettie’s little siblings.

But I also know that taking care of another child is going to mean a little less attention for Vanessa. She has been my one and only for so long and she got so much attention from Henry since he came into our lives: how will she handle this?

What if she thinks that Henry and I are going to love the other baby more than we love her? I press pause on the remote control and nudge Vanessa. ‘Sweetheart, can you do something for mommy?’

‘Of course,’ she says.

‘Can you give me a hug?’

Vanessa’s eyes light up and she turns around, so she can cuddle up against me. ‘I always want to give you hugs, mommy.’ She has been really desperate for my attention today and I feel so bad for making her feel a little less important. Normally, I notice everything she does, but seeing her like this because I missed something important, that breaks my heart.

‘You know I love you right?’

‘I know,’ she says. ‘Daddy told me you were feeling a bit sick, so I know you can be a bit tired and grumpy. But that’s okay, I still love you too.’

Sometimes I wonder how I managed to raise a young girl that is so well spoken. In school she always scores at the top of communication skills. Now her work is sometimes lacking and she is easily bored and because she has such strong communication skills, she has to stand on the hallway a lot because of her foul mouth, but other than that, I’m so proud of her.

Parents are always impressed with the way she introduces herself, before she plays with their kids. I was often afraid that she wouldn’t be accepted by her friends, her peers, because she was a lot better in communicating, but the other kids didn’t mind. They actually start to look up to her.

She is such a strong little person and I’m so proud of her.

‘Yeah, but remember: no matter how grumpy, tired, annoyed of sad I am, I will always love you.’

‘I know,’ Vanessa says. She has a tendency to push her hand under my shirt and place it on my back and right now, it’s no different. ‘I can’t wait until daddy officially adopts me.’

‘I can’t wait either.’ I press a kiss on her forehead and sighs deeply, yet content. The door opens and Kal barks in excitement. Normally Vanessa would’ve jumped up to rush to Henry, but now she stays put.

Henry walks into the living room and smiles brightly when he sees us. ‘There are my two favorite girls,’ he says, placing the bag on the table. He pulls out some chocolate. I know what he wants to do, but we both decided that we would wait until Vanessa was in bed. Time does go by faster when there is chocolate involved and he knows it. ‘Is there room for one more?’ he asks.

‘Always,’ Vanessa says with a smile. ‘Dad, you go where I was laying, so I can cuddle on your chest.’

Henry chuckles and positions himself right next to me. Vanessa curls up on his broad upper body. ‘Who wants some chocolate?’ he asks.

Vanessa opens her mouth and when I see him feeding her a piece of chocolate, I think to myself how much he loves being a dad. The role of being a father suits him so much.

I know he is going to be there for me, for Vanessa and all the babies we’ll eventually have. I’m so lucky to have this, this family. I never knew I wanted to have a family with a husband, a dog and kids. I thought that I’d be with Vanessa, until she was old enough to go to college and I’d still be a vet, a little older than forty and have an empty nest.

But now I’m going to have it all. I’m going to have a man who I probably will marry one day. I’m going to have kids. A house. A dog.

‘Have you been sweet to your mom?’ he asks Vanessa.

‘I’m always sweet to my mom.’

‘I know you are,’ he chuckles. ‘What is the plan for tonight?’

I place my head on his shoulder and my hand on Vanessa’s back. ‘This little girl has to go to bed early, because she has school tomorrow.’

Vanessa pouts, but realizes that won’t work. ‘Okay,’ she mumbles, before she yawns. ‘But I’m not tired yet.’

Henry chuckles. ‘Well, I have an idea. How about you try to stay in your own bed for as long as you can tonight?’

‘But daddy, what if I get scared?’

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t think that will happen, because Kal can sleep in your room tonight and the nights after that.’

Normally we wouldn’t allow Kal to sleep in her bed, but I think this is a smart move from Henry. When we bring a new baby in the mix, we need to make sure that Vanessa is loved and cared for properly, because a new baby is going to take lots of our time. And this is something that she wanted for so long already.

‘Really?’ she asks. ‘Mommy, you think this is a good idea?’

‘I do,’ I say with a smile.

Vanessa jumps off Henry and rushes to Kal. ‘You can sleep in my bed tonight. I’m going to get ready!’ She sprints upstairs and Kal follows her, barking loud.

‘You, my love,’ I whisper to him, ‘are a very smart man.’

Within record time Vanessa and Kal are ready for a good sleep. We give them both a big kiss and leave on her night light. I smile as I stare at my sweet daughter, who is maybe becoming a big sister very soon.

Henry and I go back downstairs. ‘You ready to take the tests?

‘Tests?’ I repeat. I search through the grocery bag, only to discover that Henry bought eight tests. ‘Sweetheart, one was enough.’

He blushes. ‘I just want to make sure.’

I lean in, giving him a kiss, before I walk to the restroom. I somehow managed to pee on all three of them and I know we have to wait at least two minutes.

It’s weird seeing Henry this nervous. He paces around the living room and I tilt my head as I watch him take a few steps, turn around, take another few steps before turning again and repeating it. ‘How much longer?’

‘One more minute,’ I answer. ‘Sweetheart, come here.’ I sit on the table and pull him in a hug. ‘No matter what the outcome is, we’ll get through it.’

‘But if it’s negative,’ he whispers, ‘what are we going to do then?’

I can’t stop my smile. ‘That means we have to try a whole lot harder to get pregnant,’ I say.

His eyes light up and he chuckles nervously, as if he can’t believe what I just said. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I figure that we shouldn’t wait too long. I know I want you to be the father of my kids. I know you want a bigger family.’ I pull him in for a long kiss and whisper: ‘And I don’t want to wait any longer.’

‘Shit, Olivia,’ he whispers. ‘I love you so much, baby.’

‘I love you too.’

‘Time’s up?’

I look at the clock and nod. ‘Yes, time’s up. Ready?’

‘More than ready.’

We both look at all three of the tests and they are all positive. Holy shit, we are going to have a baby, I think to myself. Henry’s eyes are filled with tears, causing me to cry as well. ‘Oh my God,’ I whisper.

‘We’re going to have a baby,’ he says. ‘We are going to become, truly, the Cavill-Tran clan.’

‘Tran-Cavill clan, but okay.’

He rolls his eyes, before he pulls me in for the most intense kiss he has ever given me. ‘You bet your ass I’m going to take such good care of all of you,’ he whispers against my lips. ‘And I’m going to make sure you won’t ever ever regret having kids with me.’

[rjhpandapaws]

sick Connor for the ask prompt? 👀

//oooh? I like this //Android Connor with a Virus

Hank was widely out of his depth. Connor had contracted a virus from one of the computers in evidence in the DPD. It was a failsafe of some kind that the perp had stuck on it in case an android tried to investigate her computer. Hank hated seeing him like this. In the android equivalent of a fevered haze. His soulful brown eyes coming in and out of focus, synthskin flickering on and off. He tried answering Hank the first couple of times he had checked in, but what had come out the first time was a loud blast of static, the second time was a high pitched tone that had sent both Hank and Sumo out of the room for the sake of their hearing. Hank didn’t know what to do. There was Kamski obviously, but the idea of taking Connor back to the Villa left a bad taste in his mouth. He also didn’t want to come to owe the eccentric genius a favor later on. Jericho then? Chloe was there, she knew just about all there was to know about androids, being the first of them. Could he get Connor to the car? Did he really have a choice? He didn’t know what this virus was doing to him, Nines had offered to interface but that was too big of a risk for Hank to be comfortable with. He peeked back into the living room to find Connor without his skin and brown eyes staring at nothing again. He needed to call Josh. He opened his phone and hit the android’s contact, he hoped he wasn’t interrupting anything by calling this early in the day, but this was an emergency and he needed help. Josh answered almost immediately.

“Hank?” Concern laced his voice. Hank couldn’t hear anything in the background so Hank assumed he was in Josh’s head for the time being. He had probably interrupted him at work then, “Is something wrong?” “Its Connor.” He said in a rush, “At worth this morning he interfaced with a computer in the evidence lock up and something is wrong. Its a virus I think.... he’s there sometimes but most if the time his eyes are just hollow. I tried checking in on him but I got static the first time and an electronic screech the second. I don’t know what’s wrong and I can’t move him on my own because I don’t want to do anymore damage. Just, I’m also worried about it getting transferred to one of you but, you guys are the only ones I trust with this.” “We’ll be careful Hank. Don’t worry alright?” Josh’s tone was placating and reassuring, “Markus, Simon, and I are on our way.” Hank breathed a small sigh of relief, he didn’t know how this would go, but he at least knew Connor was in good hands. “Thank you.” Josh hummed in response before he hung up. Hank tried to collect himself and made his way to the living room. Connor’s eyes were still lifeless and his LED was strobing red, yellow would come through in brief flashed but it never stayed. Sumo was sitting in front of the couch with his head resting on Connor’s stomach. The android was laid out on the couch, he had planned to go into stasis and try and fight off whatever this was, but they hadn’t been quick enough and the virus had taken hold. The synthskin was gone on the parts of him Hank could see, and the serial number branded into his cheek glared back at the older detective. It wasn’t as unsettling to see him like this anymore, what was unnerving Hank this time was the circumstances surrounding it. He reached out and squeezed Connor’s stiff hand hoping he could feel it wherever he was within the confines of his mind, “You’re gonna be alright Con.”

The 54 at the end of his serial number was an ugly reminder of the things he had come back from. The stress testing at CyberLife that still had him waking up on red some nights, Daniel and plummeting off that tower, the investigation, Amanda, the revolution, and this hopefully. The things he had been through Hank wouldn’t wish on anyone else, and if he could he would undo it for Connor too. He didn’t deserve that. After the cruelty he had been through he deserved more than this. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the knock at the front door and Sumo’s responding bark. Hank let go of Connor’s hand and answered the door. He was surprised to see Chloe at the door. She smiled kindly at him and he moved out of the way so they could come in. “He’s on the couch. He wanted to try to go into stasis before the worst of it set in.” He said dumbly. He moved through the living room to put Sumo in his bedroom so he wasn’t under foot. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust the androids’ ability to navigate around the massive dog, it was that he didn’t trust how Sumo would reaction under a combination of stress and unfamiliar company reaching for his best friend. “The drive home took too long I think...” He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned and found Simon, “This isn’t your fault Hank. we’ll get him back to Jericho and get this figured out. I promise.” Hank nodded, he knew that, but he still felt responsible. “I know, I just worry. I could have just had tech look at it and he wouldn’t be in this situation.” “Hank, look at me.” Simon’s voice didn’t leave much room for argument so he looked back toward the house keeping android instead of in the living room where Chloe was typing away at a laptop that was hooked up to Connor, “He would have looked at it anyway. This way you were here when something went wrong, because of you he isn’t going through it alone. He has a good friend in you. Remember that.”

Chloe worked on the laptop for about an hour, eventually she shook her head and closed it. That wasn’t a good sign, she stood up and smoothed out her shirt, she still dressed professionally, but tended to avoid dresses and skirts now Hank had noticed. She said something over their link and Markus and Josh moved to pick up Connor’s stiff form. She made her way to Hank and ran one of her hands through her ponytail. She took a moment to mull over her words. “I have good news, I’ve seen this before and I think we can fix it at Jericho.” She looked down, “I can’t say for sure how many of his memories he will get back though, he’s about halfway through a reset.” Hank must have made some kind of face because he took one of his hands in both of hers. “We’ll fix this Hank. Trust me.” Simon squeezed his shoulder, “You three take him, back to Jericho, I’ll stay with Hank for a while. When North gets back fill her in as well please.” Chloe nodded. She squeezed Hank’s hand one last time and then followed Josh and Markus out after she had grabbed her things.

Hank remembered letting Sumo out of the room and into the yard, but the things between that and arriving at Jericho after Simon had gotten a call was a blur. Now he was pacing the waiting room of the android equivalent of a hospital. North was watching him. Every so often she would head back to where they working on Connor, and when she would come back her face would be pinched with worry. Eventually she sighed and stepped into Hank’s path. He stopped and she put her hands on his shoulders. “For fuck’s sake sit down. You’re gonna wear a path into the floor.” She turned him and guided him over to the chairs. “They said it will be about an hour before he’s online again. They’re just making sure the virus is completely gone and didn’t bring anything else back online.” She meant Amanda, he knew that. Connor could undo everything they had fought so hard for if she got a hold of him again. North distracted him by talking about the things Jericho was working on. A lot of it was political, which was a bore to him, but a good distraction from his worry. They were also working on getting android friendly apartment complexes set up and working on getting job fairs set up for both humans and androids alike. He was glad to hear how much progress was being made. It didn’t feel like an hour had passed when Simon came down the hall into the waiting room. “He’ll be waking up soon, if you want to come back.” Simon smiled as Hank stood, “We’re gonna keep him a few days to make sure everything is how it’s supposed to be, and to make sure he rests.”

They followed Simon back. It looked like a hospital room the only difference was the lack of sterile smell. He was still hooked up to a thirium drip and there were machines monitoring his vitals. His synthskin was back and his LED was on a steady cycle of blue, he looked normal, not like he had just come out of android brain surgery. It was jarring, that after all the fear and panic, he was just back to normal. He was relieved to have Connor back. “You’re thinking very loudly Lieutenant.” Connor’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he found himself smiling when he looked into vibrant brown eyes, “The virus is gone and everything is where its supposed to be Hank.” He followed it up with that stupid wink of his, and Hank knew they were in the clear. Hey stayed for a few hours, until he needed to get back to Sumo.

Over the next few days he received pictures from Connor as well as everyone else. The first couple days were him relaxing, helping Markus paint, helping North with paper work. The rest were from Connor usually featuring him getting in some kind of trouble. Likely for not taking it easy. His favorite though was from Simon, it was of Connor and Chloe singing as Markus played the piano. North was dancing with Josh in the background. It was good to have him back.

@i-am-therefore-i-fight

(Prompt from this list)

[authoressofdarkness]

Under the Covers (Chapter 1)

“Do you really think there’s any way I’ll be able to be incognito for any amount of time? Aren’t you worried my ego will feel neglected from going unrecognized so long? Maybe I’ll blow my cover because I’m too desperate for attention.” “You’re not going to be going undercover. You’re going to be assisting our undercover agent.”

AO3 

Someone tell me why I do these things. I swear. Blame @itfeelssogoodmrstark. Now I’ve gotta go work on finals goddamnit-

Narcissistic.

“We need your help, Stark.”

“And why would I help you?”

Self-destructive.

“Because we need you to. And you want these assholes off the street just as bad as we do. You’re the only one in the position to make this mission happen.”

“I’m the only person you consider expendable, you mean. I put myself in danger all the time, so it’s okay for you to do it, too, right?”

Doesn’t play well with others.

“That’s not what I said.”

“And yet that’s what you meant.”

A heavy sigh on the other end. “Hear whatever you’d like, I’m not going to argue with you. I need to know if you’re willing to do this or not, because you’ll need to meet your partner-“

“Partner? I thought I was too volatile to work with others. Besides, Iron Man doesn’t need a partner.”

“Well, we don’t need you as Iron Man. We need you as Tony Stark.”

Compulsive.

“And yet I remember hearing the exact opposite a few months ago. Funny how that works,” he snarks.

“What you do in that tin can isn’t what I need right now. We need something more subtle.”

“Subtle? What about me is subtle? Agent Romanov is the epitome of subtle. Even fooled me. Try her.”

Another sigh, then: “Not that subtle. We need the built-in status and resources that you have as your… distinguished self. That’s key to this mission, as is the partner. Now if you’re gonna ask questions, can you at least come in and debrief in person so I’m not wasting more of all of our time?”

And he has more questions, so he agrees. He’s nothing if not nosy. And it’ll be fun to string Fury along just long enough to get on his nerves even if he decides not to consult on this particular mission.

Consult, of course. That’s his job. He’s too much of a mess to be an Avenger. And that’s fine with him. He likes flying solo, doing things on his own terms, most of the time.

But he has agreed to consult on some cases. Partially because he owes Fury, and he doesn’t like owing people. He’d worked hard to get out of the debt of owing people after everything that happened with Obie. But he couldn’t deny Fury had saved his ass with the whole pallidum poisoning thing. He’d likely have died if left on his own.

And, well, partially because… yeah, maybe he has a bit of a hero complex. But something bothers him too much now about standing off to the side in any serious situation.

And these mutant drugs going around were certainly a serious situation. But he didn’t understand why blasting the drug lord to hell wasn’t going to be enough to handle it.

“So what’s the big idea, Fury?” he asks, a few hours later, as the elder man finally enters the conference room -- where they’d left him waiting for way longer than strictly necessary, he’s sure. “I don’t understand what the big hoopla is. Do you really think there’s any way I’ll be able to be incognito for any amount of time? Aren’t you worried my ego will feel neglected from going unrecognized so long? Maybe I’ll blow my cover because I’m too desperate for attention.” He bats his eyes at him, pulling a mock-sad face.

Fury doesn’t look amused. He drops a file down on the table in front of him. “You’re not going to be going undercover. You’re going to be assisting our undercover agent.”

“I don’t recall agreeing to do anything yet, so careful with all those orders, cyclops.” Tony sits up, dropping the facade in favor of reaching for the file. “What is this?”

“Case overview. Read it.”

“I already know as much about it as you do.” It’s true; he’d already been looking into this particular problem on his own before Fury had contacted him to ask him about consulting. Course, the fact that their interests were overlapping was about the only thing he knew so far, aside from what he’d figured out on his own, but Fury didn’t need to know that.

“Just read it, Stark.”

Tony does. He skims the file, frowning a little as he reads. Maybe they knew a bit more than he did, then.

The head of the operation, from what they could tell, was one Quentin Beck. Or at least, he was the highest part of the food chain that they knew of for now.

He was the man that Tony had landed on, as well. But SHIELD had more on the inner workings than he did. Some of the stock houses, the loading areas, some of the runners involved in the operation. More information about where Beck stayed, what social circles he ran in. He used to be a special effects coordinator, apparently, before he was swept into the life of crime. He had a background in technology and biochemical engineering. Interesting.  

His profile was even more interesting. It looked oddly similar to his, in some ways. Narcissist. Compulsive. Playboy. Doesn’t play well with others. Likes to be the center of attention. Craves power.

“Interesting profile. Let me guess, Romanov wrote it too?” Tony deadpans.

Fury narrows his good eye at him, taking the file back. “Ha-ha. Believe it or not, the similarities in your personalities are part of why we need you.”

“Why? You want me to make friends with him?”

Fury shakes his head. “Beck likes power. He craves attention. He’s smart, he’s sly, and he’s worked years to get to where he is in the food chain. He sees our agents coming from a mile away every time we try to send someone in. He knows who the moles are as soon as they poke their heads out. Two weeks ago, one of our agents went in as a fake buyer and never returned. We can’t afford to keep going like this. We’re getting nothing. We’re losing our people and countless more are dying in the streets because of the shit he’s selling.”

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with me.” Tony tilts his head. “I can’t go undercover. You don’t want me to go undercover, you don’t want me to be friends with him. Am I supposed to be your next buyer? You think he’d buy that? Or do you want me to offer him something? Because I don’t sell weapons anymore, Fury. Not even for you.”

“No weapons. Nothing like that.” Fury pauses. “The long and short is, right now, Beck is untouchable. We can’t get anyone in to get any information and no one is rolling, even the few we’ve managed to get ahold of. He’s funneling his drug money through legitimate businesses, so there’s no proof. He’s covering his tracks well. But he does have one weakness.” Fury pulls a photo out of the file and slaps it on the desk in front of him.

Tony’s eyes drop to it instinctively, and he feels his mouth go dry. It’s a boy -- a pretty boy. Springy, messy curls, Bambi eyes, pouty lips, the whole nine yards. The photo is just a headshot, but he has a feeling that he’s just as lithe and pretty the rest of the way down as he is from the top.

But he’s also young. Obviously young. Mid-twenties, at the most, although he’s struggling to believe that he’s even that old.

He forces himself to swallow, lifting his eyes back to Fury. “Is that his kid?”

Fury barks out a laugh. “No. Not his kid.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet.”

That’s enough to jolt him back to his senses. Tony refocuses, raising an eyebrow. “Yet?” He doesn’t like the sound of this already.

“This is where your similarities come in handy, Stark.” Fury picks up the photo. “Beck has a penchant for pretty young things. Particularly taken pretty young things.”

“That’s sick.”

“That feeds his ego. He likes seducing them. He likes to play sugar daddy for them -- drugs or clothes or money or whatever it is they want in exchange for them making him look good and feel powerful. It’s a game to him. But he only likes high-quality things. The more powerful the men he takes them from, the better.”

“So?”

“So… we need to give him someone powerful to take him from.”

It hits him like a ton of bricks.

This is where your similarities come in handy.

Playboy.

“You can’t be serious. How old is he, twelve? I mean, really-”

“He’s twenty-three-”

“-he’s practically still in diapers. Probably still in school. Forcing him to play lap dog to someone like Beck is just… wrong.”

Fury sighs. “No one is forcing him to do anything, Stark. He knows what’s involved in the mission. I assure you no one will be making him do anything he doesn’t want to do. And he’s not still in diapers. He has a Bachelor’s in Biochemistry and is working on his Master’s.”

Tony blinks. “At twenty-three?”

“It happens. Look at you.”

Look at you.

Yeah, sure, but he’s never met anyone else near close to his level. And look at the amount of emotional damage he sustained from it.

“Fair,” is all he says aloud. “But he’s got so much potential. Surely he’s got better — less dangerous, less dehumanizing — offers. What’s he doing mixed up with SHIELD?”

“That’s for he and I to know and you to not worry about,” Fury says shortly. “All we need from you is to cohabitate and pretend to be together long enough to get Peter inside and for us to see this mission through. Are you going to do it or not?”

“Hold on, back up a sec. Cohabitate? You’re gonna make the poor kid move in with me, too?” Not that he has any qualms about giving the kid a place to live, per se — God knows he has more than enough for both of them. The space, the money, the resources. But that means he actually has to live with him.

He hasn’t had a partner in ages, one night stand or otherwise. Since his capture, he’s plagued by nightmares too much to sleep like a normal person, and letting anyone see the arc reactor or get that close to him, physically, in general is just one big no.

He and Pepper had tried, but there was just too much between them. She had a company to run. He was busy being Iron Man. They had barely seen each other. And when they had seen each other, it was always just… fighting about something or the other. That he was too reckless. That he was too isolated. That he didn’t trust her, that he needed therapy, that the way he lives is unhealthy, that he missed this or that meeting, that he drinks too much, that he just hid too much stuff.  

She wanted to change him, and he couldn’t let her do it. He wasn’t ready. And part of him knows it’s stupid, unsustainable, unhealthy. But he’s not ready to face it all either. He still cares about her, of course, and she’s still the CEO of Stark Industries, and doing a damn good job at it. But the likelihood there’ll ever be a future there is slim to none. He knows that now.

Fury’s voice snaps him back to the present. “It has to look serious, Stark. He can’t just be a fling. Beck won’t take interest in that. We’ve already laid the groundwork for making him move in and making the whole shebang look believable. Now you just need to do your part. Let him stay with you at least a few nights a week, make a few public appearances together, and let him do his job. No one is saying you actually have to sleep with him -- although I admit I hadn’t expected you to seem so turned off from the idea.”

Tony doesn’t dignify that with an answer. “Are you sure this is the only option? Why can’t I just blast him into next week? Or you send Romanov in with her sweet talking to… I don’t know, poison his drink or something?”

Fury sighs. “We need to know what he knows. We need to know more about where the drugs are coming from. How. Why. Who’s involved. Everything. We only get one chance at this, Stark. You know how it works. He’s the highest person we know of that we have a chance of reaching. If he slips away, we’ll have to start over. We lose all our leads. More people die. This could give us everything we need to know. But he has to come to us. And the only way to get him to do that is bait.” He sets the picture back down on the table, jamming his finger into the middle of the kid’s forehead. “He’s fully prepared to do whatever it takes to do so. Are you, hero?”

Hero. It’s not said scathingly, exactly, but it’s clearly a challenge, all the same. A muscle in Tony’s jaw jumps before he forcefully unclenches it, letting out a breath. “So do I get to get his name before he moves in with me, or…?”

Fury smirks. He turns back to face the door he’d come through, raising his voice. “Parker!”

A moment later, the door opens again. This time, it’s the kid from the picture who enters.

He looks even more baby-faced in person. And yeah, he’s definitely just as lithe and gorgeous as Tony had imagined he would be. Great. Good to know.

He approaches the table they’re sitting at with short, fast strides, hands gripping the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder. He was already packed. They certainly banked on him saying yes, didn’t they?

He comes to a stop beside Fury, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stands there. “Hi!” he chirrups. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker. Big fan, by the way.”

Aaaand he’s a fanboy too. This just gets better and better.

“Tony Stark. But you knew that, I suppose.” He looks pointedly at Fury. “You’re going to send him undercover? You sure about this?” He just seems so… pure. Happy and outgoing and young and probably way, way too naive to be mixed up with SHIELD’s shenanigans.

“As sure as I was the first three times you asked.” Fury fixes him with one of his looks. “Are you gonna take him home or not?”

Take him home. Like he’s a puppy or something. Jesus.

Though puppy certainly wasn’t what Peter is thinking, if the way his cheeks color slightly is any indication. This kid is going to be the death of him, isn’t he?

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He stands, pushing the thoughts away. “You ready, kid?”

“All set, Mr. Stark.” Peter starts to make his way around the table, and Tony turns towards the door.

“You can’t do that,” Fury says, stopping them both in their tracks. “You’re gonna blow cover before you even establish it.”

Tony turns back to face him, exasperated. “We haven’t even left yet!”

“And you’re calling each other by formalities, walking with six feet of space between you, and letting him carry his own bag. Really, you’re not off to a great start.”

“What do you want me to do, hold his hand and shower him with kisses? We literally just met.”

Fury rolls his eye. “I know this is going to be hard for you, but don’t be so dramatic. You have to act like a normal, healthy couple. You don’t have to make out on the street, but you could walk beside the kid, for God’s sake.”

“I’m not normal or healthy anything. You should know that -- isn’t that what your agent said?”

Fury ignores him, standing up. He looks at Peter. “Better control your boyfriend, kid, before he blows your cover. I’ll call you when we’ve got a place for you to start.” With that, he turns on his heel and leaves.

They both stare at him as he leaves. It’s silent for a long moment before Peter turns around to face him, color still lingering slightly in his cheeks. “So, uh… ready to go, Mr.- uh… Tony?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go, kid.” Tony lets out a breath and heads for the door, but at a slower pace this time, letting Peter fall into step with him. He opens the door for him, then follows him out and leads the way back to his car. This… this is going to be something, but he isn’t sure if fun is the right word for it.

What had he just gotten himself into?

Let me know if you want to be tagged! 

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!