#i want them to be disgustingly happy but first they gotta suffer

[leirsulien-archive]

Do I daydream about ava and liv living in a cottage with 500 cats and 200 cows and sheep, about them braiding eachothers hair while calling eachother 'my love', about them baking bread together and liv painting ava in a field of flowers?

Yes.

Do I also daydream about putting them through hell, heartbreak, injury and near death scenarios?

Yes.

It's called balance.

[haileyyanneupton]

fairytale 🧚‍♂️ 🪄

in which Hailey realises that maybe — just maybe — love isn’t a complete scam after all. 

upstead oneshot (hailey upton x jay halstead)

warnings: mention of sexual assault

masterlist | series masterlist 

Hailey had always found it disgustingly cheesy when the books she would read would describe falling in love as something that happened "hard and fast." She just didn't believe in it. Maybe it was because she had never really been in love — at least not in the way that the fairytales made it out to be — or maybe it was just some ploy to set every little girl's expectations far, far too high.

They were sitting in his car one day, checking out a suspect that looked good for a double homicide when it happened. He had made some stupid joke and of course, Jay being Jay had cracked up laughing at his own sense of humor. It wasn't the joke that made her fall, but the way his eyes lit up in amusement and happiness — genuine happiness too, not that knock off shit. It was the way his head turned to face Hailey without any hesitation to see if she was laughing too; the way to him, she was the only person that mattered. It left her a feeling little winded and a little bit like she was floating, but she didn't mind. Right there, in the passenger seat of his car with binoculars in her hand is where she realised that sometimes, with the right person, you could indeed fall hard, and you could fall fast. The first time she met him, it was no secret to anybody that she wasn't too fond or Mr Jay Halstead to say the least. He had that cocky smile that could piss her off to no end, but what bothered her most was just how hard it was to hate him. She'd be lying if she said she didn't have a vendetta against attractive detectives in the CPD — every time she had allowed herself to like them, even if it were just platonically, she'd always wind up getting hurt. That was why she tried to keep her distance from Jay to begin with — but alas, just as fate would have it, Erin's unexpected departure had left Hailey partnered with the detective she had told herself she would stay away from at all costs. Her painted hatred didn't last long. After even just their first proper shift together, Hailey found herself bending over backwards to make her new partner's life a little bit easier after a case they had been working had gone sideways, Jay's 9mm behind the death of a young girl that had hit him pretty hard. She managed to get a read on him right away — he was so scared, so broken — even Hailey knew that the unfortunate ending to a case had to be just the tip of the iceberg. She wasn't going to fix him — that wasn't her job — but she was going to fight like hell until he could do it himself. She knew what it was like to be there, she remembered how awful it felt; she wouldn't wish it upon anybody, much less her partner who she was becoming strangely fond of with each passing moment. Their first few months working together flew by, but that didn't mean that it had been uneventful. Hailey and Jay had grown close relatively quickly, their personalities gelling together like no other. It was nice to know that someone had your back, but for Hailey, who had somewhat left an entire life behind her when she joined intelligence, their first major challenge as partners came when Ronald Booth inserted himself back into the scene. Really, she knew that she should have expected Jay to do what he had and dig up all that he could find on Booth the second he got a whiff that something had gone on between him and Hailey, but alas; all she wanted was to be seen as who she had worked her entire life to become. Someone who was strong, independent — not someone who allowed themselves to be taken advantage of, someone who ended up in the hospital because she couldn't fight off some old guy. When her stubbornness had reared its head and landed both her and Jay back in Booth's warehouse for a last ditch attempt at undermining him, things turned ugly — and fast. It all happened so fast. One moment, they were about to make the exchange — the next, she was being shoved into a car door while being checked for a wire. His hands against her — god, she could still feel his dirty, disgusting touch from that New Years Eve party like it was yesterday. She had gotten so close to forgetting, so close to pushing it down just far enough so that she wouldn't have to think about it, but when he ran his hands up and down her legs and groped her with such a hunger that her breath hitched in her throat and bile rose, burning her oesophagus and leaving a bad taste in her mouth, she simply couldn't forget. She almost let herself slip back to that night — him on top of her, his weight enough to keep her from moving — but the sound of Jay's voice behind her kept her anchored right where she was as she breathed through it. One more second, and it's over. That's all. Just one more second. "Come on, man. You don't gotta do it like that." There was silence for a moment. You know the kind. The kind that fills the air in the eye of a storm, right before everything goes from bad to worse. Still, no matter how prepared you are for everything to turn to shit again — it's never really ever enough. "Gun! He's got a gun!" "I don't have a gun, man —" she could hear the panic in Jay's voice. "Take it easy! I don't have a gun!" "Back it up!" "I don't have a gun!" Booth was distracted. His hands were still on her, but his grip had loosened. His hand was resting on her hip now rather than grabbing it, and with his attention diverted to the situation unfolding behind them, she took her chance and ran with it. Her elbow collided with his nose as she twisted his arm back in a shape that arms were definitely not meant to go in, a distinct crack echoing through the air for a split second before the sound of two much louder pops overpowered it. She had pulled the trigger faster than she had been able to process, and before she knew it, Tyler had hit the ground and was gasping for air he wouldn't get no matter how hard he tried. Hailey couldn't even turn around before Booth was gone — but she wasn't about to let him get away that easy. He found her before she found him, which was definitely not the way she wanted it to go. Her back hit the wall first, followed by her head hitting the railing of a staircase as he threw her around like a ragdoll. What infuriated her more than anything was how easy it was for him to do it, her body hitting different corners of each stair as she fell down them. Hailey's legs were flailing around methodically, aiming for all of the weak spots as she tried everything she had been taught (and a bit more) to get the upper hand. Finally, she regained her footing, but it wasn't long before he had her by the shoulders and was slamming her up against every wall he could find yet again. Bang. "I knew you were a cop!" Booth growled dangerously, his tone venomous with fury. "I just didn't want to believe it!" Bang.

"Believe it!" With a quick and smooth movement, she finally had some kind of control as she took the position of the slammer, and not the slammee. She was so angry, the adrenaline rushing through her veins so quickly that she threw punch after punch without feeling a thing, a small smirk curling the corners of her lips upwards as it was Booth's turn for a little trip down the stairs. He was halfway unconscious by this point, but she didn't care — he was right where she wanted him now. "Admit you killed Garrett!" Booth smiled a sick grin as he let out a hearty laugh that made Hailey nauseous. "You'll never find him." She felt the anger and white hot, blinding rage bubbling up inside of her, choking her, clawing at her throat as she held the gun to Booth's face. She would never forget the feeling of her finger brushing up against the temptation of the trigger over and over and over again, or the myriad of thoughts rushing through her head. One squeeze of the trigger, and he's gone, Hailey. You could end this right here, right now. Garrett. What about Garrett? Booth is the only one who knows where Garrett is, Hailey — don't kill him! But he's right here, and the gun. . . it's right here in my hands and —

"Hailey!" Jay's voice started out loud, but faded into a whisper. "Hailey. Hailey." Her breathing was heavy, and even though his voice had snapped her out of whatever rage she was in, part of her wanted to jump right back into it and finish the job. Hailey's blue eyes were trained on Booth like it was life or death, never flicking away from the man for even a second. "Hailey —" Jay tried to coax his partner this time; he knew if this continued on the way it looked like it was going to, things wouldn't end well.  "He wins if you do it. This is not how you beat this." His hand was on her shoulder, following the rapid rising and falling of her chest as she held the gun firmly in place. her fingers were trembling but she showed no fear, a ferocious, burning flame in her eyes. She was not done yet. She wasn't. "Please, Hailey, please." He was desperate now; she could tell by the way his grip tightened ever so slightly at the same time that his voice changed. "Please. This is not the way. You — You gotta trust me." It was the pleading that struck her hard enough to really realise what she was doing. It was the pleading that gave her the strength to fight against the rage and finally swing her right leg off of the scum beneath her and growl at him to get up, the sight of him struggling providing her with a secret, visceral pleasure that she would never be able to explain. But when he sat up a bit too quickly for Hailey's liking, the woman deciding that the awful man hadn't suffered quite enough yet, her boot collided with his face one last time before walking her right out of the stairwell. If she stayed, she knew one person would be coming out in a body bag and the other in handcuffs.  She had a feeling she knew which she would be in.

Jay and Hailey's relationship shifted after that night, but neither of them viewed it as a bad thing. There was something about trauma and tragedy that tends to bring people together in some bittersweet way, and despite the fact that they each had their own perspective of what had happened in that warehouse, both of them knew that without the other, things could have ended much worse. It was soon after that that their 'thing' started. Drinks at whichever bar was closest quickly became a regular occurrence, but during the summertime when the crowds got a bit too crowded for either of their liking, they found themselves more and more often bypassing the bar all together by picking up a 6 pack of beer and retiring back to one of their apartments instead. 

After a few times, Jay had compiled a bunch of clothes that he either did wear anymore or that no longer fit him and had left them folded up in the dresser of the guest bedroom for Hailey, who frequently would crash in her partner's guest room after a long night. She secretly loved the scent of his cologne on the neckline of his hoodies that she'd sleep in, though she'd never admit it to her or anybody else — especially once she noticed how much better she slept when she had one on.  

Fast forward a few months, and that's when it happened. That was when her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach from the realisation of what had just happened in a matter of seconds as she sunk back down in her seat ever so slightly, her brain screaming with a million different emotions. She had been quick to mask it, turning her head to look out the window until before she knew it, she was looking back at the dark haired man so intensely that she thought if she looked away for even a second, he'd disappear. Looking turned into kissing, and kissing turned into a personal hour which lead to a little bit more. The whole time though, in amongst everything else, one thought stuck out more than the rest. 

This is your fairytale, Hailey, she thought. This right here is your happy ending. It's him.

a/n: sorry it’s not very long, and that the ending reads kind of rushed, but i’m actually sorta proud of this one aaaa???? i hope you all like it!! might do a part two 👀 

tagging: @ruzek-halstead @detective-buttercup @lissethsrojas @justanotheronechicagofan​ did y’all ask to get tagged? no but i’m tagging y’all anyway bc i value each and every one of u and my tags are reserved for awesome ppl only so 🥰

[kiribakuhappiness]

Bakugou's Wedding Studio

Katsuki's

by KiriBakuHappiness

(AO3 link)

Bakugou Katsuki / Kirishima Eijirou Wedding Planner / Engaged AU Fluff/Humor/Light-Angst/Romance Rated T (for Katsuki’s colorful language) Word Count: 6315

Author's Note:// I really don't know where this story idea came from but I just had such an overwhelming urge to write it so now all of you are going to have to read it - enjoy!

Katsuki has never been to a wedding before.

The fuck would he waste his time going to one of those dumbass things for? To watch relatives who he didn't know and had never cared to meet before cry disgustingly and blow snot into rags in celebration of someone else in the family getting to have bland missionary sex for the rest of their pathetically monotonous lives?

Or did the joy come from listening to people whisper about the decoration choices and chuckle in disdain about family drama or was all the fun wrapped up in making sure someone's estranged uncle didn't get too drunk and try to piss on the bride's gown or -

Where the fuck was the fun in any of it?!

Fuck. Katsuki hated weddings - and he's never even fucking been to one before but that hardly matters because he gets the overall fucking gist of them just fine on his own. He's seen all the damn movies.

The weepy vows and the overly-edited wedding photos and the drunken hook ups in the coat closet or bathroom with someone who may or may not be a distant cousin or, fuck; it was all so very cliché and annoying.

Unfortunately, Katsuki's mother was a fucking wedding planner - so guess who knew way more about weddings than he'd ever planned to know?

You're a fucking genius. It's this guy.

Just shoot his damn brains out now. 'S not like he's gonna need them much after suffering through all of this shit.

"Katsuki," his mother swats at his arm and abruptly pulls him full force back into the wretched reality of this entirely undesirable situation. "Are you listening? This is important to me - I'm really counting on you for this one, kid!"

Katsuki barely holds back a groan. Barely.

He might be reaching 24, but his attitude still felt like that of an angsty teenager most days, and all of this unnecessary needling really wasn't helping with his high blood pressure that his doctor kept insisting that he had.

He shifts in the uncomfortable plastic chair by the edge of the hospital bed and tries to pay attention - he does - because his mother got hit by a car not three hours ago, and while that was so insatiably fucking hilarious to think about on its own, the resulting chaos that had ensued after such a laughably out-of-bounds incident that had dragged his ass head-first into all of this was most certainly not.

"I could do this shit in my sleep if I had to. I was forced to go with you to meet-ups like this all the damn time, remember?" Katsuki grumbles bitterly as he proceeds to flip through the scarce few channels on the television screen hanging up in the corner of the room.

Mitsuki snatches the remote from him when he passes over the same dull history channel about sharks for the third time since he'd arrived with a bag full of hastily packed shit from the house after he had gotten the call from the hospital.

"Yeah, when you were seven." She turns the television off and tosses the remote out of his reach into the other vacant chair on the far side of the room. Katsuki scowls and watches it soar away, briefly mourning the loss of the only thing getting him through this conversation with his mental stability still in tact.

"How fucking hard can it be?" Katsuki continues to gripe as he slouches further down in his seat, throwing his feet up to rest his boots on the bed with his ankles crossed. "'You want this piece of shit flower, or this piece of shit flower? You want this dumb table set up, or this dumb table set up?' I think I can fucking handle it."

His mother sighs and runs a hand over her bruised face, but he can still see the smirk that she's so desperately trying to hide in her palm. She can't fool Katsuki - she might sell lovey-dovey bullshit day in and day out to poor saps who waste all of their hard earned life savings on some big dumb party that most of their guests who are invited to attend are too drunk to even remember the next morning anyway - but she's just as much of an asshole as Katsuki is.

Mitsuki was just significantly better at hiding it in front of her important valued business clients.

"Just... please be on your best behavior, alright? And wear something nice. A sweater, maybe? You do own nice clothes, don't you?" His mother goads as she finishes organizing the gigantic black binder open on the bed sheets in front of her before she slaps it shut with a satisfied grin that stretches the bandage on her cheek.

"Oh yeah," Katsuki snorts with a condescending roll of his eyes. "Want me to get my finest jewels out of the damn vault, too? Maybe hunt down an endangered cougar and wear its scent as fresh cologne?"

His mother's hand comes up to her face again, but her shoulders are shaking. "How did I ever raise such a charming gentleman?"

"Beats me, you're a fucking bitch," Katsuki counters easily as he lumbers up to his feet. He reaches for the binder but his mother is quicker and she snatches it up to hold it close to her chest.

She's giving him her most serious look now.

Ugh. That means they're officially done fucking around.

"I mean it, Katsuki. This client was a referral - I really need them to have a good experience," his mother repeats for what must be the seventy-billionth fucking time.

Katsuki melts back into his chair with a disgruntled whine that could have come from a five-year-old's temper tantrum. "The fuck can't you just reschedule this shit for if it's so damn important?"

"Because the couple needs to be married and on a flight in exactly two months. Do you know how fucking long it takes to plan a wedding, Katsuki?"

He does. "No."

His mother smacks the binder against the top of his head before she finally holds it out for him. "Don't screw this up, wise-ass."

How fucking encouraging.

Katsuki snatches the binder from her with another overly-dramatic roll of his eyes as he shoves himself up to his feet again and starts for the door. "Hope you get a bed sore, devil woman."

"Love you too, you little shit!"

-

His mother's office building is way too fucking fancy for Katsuki's taste. Expensive wooden flooring and tall ceilings and Rome-inspired pillars and some kind of old fucking statue of a half-naked woman right at the damn entrance with her stone breasts all hanging out.

Was this supposed to be a wedding planner's studio or some kind of fucking art museum? Katsuki can't even tell anymore.

He supposes that it has been a pretty long time since he's last been back here, and he can't ignore the fact that his mother's dumb business has come a long way from being the dinky little hole in the wall that it used to be.

Still, the statue feels like a bit of an over kill. Katsuki can't stop staring at it. Where the fuck were her arms? And why did her eyes look like that?

Were they... moving?

His body tilts dangerously far to one side as he eyes up at the woman's face with a squinted gaze. She was definitely tracking his movements - this statue was seriously fucking cursed or something. It probably came to fucking life at night, creepy ass piece of -

"Uh... am I interrupting something?"

Katsuki nearly staggers over his own two feet as he hurries to try and right himself before he whips around to spot the culprit who has so suddenly decided to sneak up on him.

"Hah?! Fucking hell, make some damn noise next time!" Katsuki reprimands with a harsh glare. He hates being fucking spooked like that.

The man in front of him grins a wide, toothy smile. "Sorry, man! I didn't mean to startle you! Uh, is this... the Bakugou's Wedding Studio -"

Oh shit. This is the guy that Katsuki is supposed to meet with today?

His sharp gaze takes in the plain jeans with the rip in the left knee and the dark V-neck combo that he's wearing; a pretty casual get up considering the dumbass shirt and tie that Katsuki's hag of a mother seemed to think that he desperately needed to wear for this. She was so full of shit sometimes.

Fuck, was this guy still talking?

"- so I hope that's okay and everything!"

Katsuki has no idea what he's going on about, but it doesn't matter. He waves a dismissive hand around in the air, anyway.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Red. You ready to do this or what?"

The guy blinks in surprise at him and one of the hands he's had pushed down into the pockets of his jeans suddenly reaches up to touch at the stupid spikes of red hair styled on the top of his head before he laughs boisterously.

"Alright, a man of action - I like that! Let's do it!" Red cheers, thrusting a fist up in the air and beaming another ridiculously happy grin. What a fucking nut job.

Katsuki leads him around the creepy statue lady and across the wooden floors of the studio towards a set of black leather couches set up in the corner by the large bay windows overlooking the street below. He slaps the binder on the table and flops down onto the couch before he mindlessly flips it open to the first page to pull out all of the dumb introductory forms.

The faster they get through this shit, the quicker Katsuki can go home and take these uncomfortable clothes off - gotta keep his eyes on the prize.

Red plops down on the couch next to him, still smiling that mega-watt grin. Katsuki is used to seeing that stupid fucking look on his mother's more sappy clients' faces.

It's all about the fucking love, right?

Definitely not about all of the money.

"This place is really nice," Red compliments unnecessarily as his eyes sweep across the studio. "Did you decorate it yourself?"

Katsuki snorts at that. And then he rehears the question in the back of his mind and he cackles again because holy shit - that's the funniest fucking thing anyone has ever asked him. "Hell no. Just filling in for my mom or whatever. 'S her place, not mine."

"Oh, are you... not a wedding planner then, or?"

Shit. Backtrack - fucking backtrack.

"Hah? 'Course I am! You think I come here and do this shit for fun or something?" Katsuki snarks back as nonchalantly as he can. He really needs to just get this over with.

"Where's your wife-to-be, anyway? Shouldn't she be here nitpicking all of this shit over with you?" Katsuki grumbles absentmindedly as he yanks out a pen and finally settles down to do quite possibly the most boring thing to have ever been invented.

"Nah man, I just told you! My ah... husband-to-be had something come up at work, so he couldn't make it in today," Red explains again anyway, entirely unperturbed with having to repeat himself. "It's just me!"

Gay? Huh. Katsuki wouldn't have ever guessed.

"Whatever, just make sure he doesn't call and complain if he doesn't like what you pick out," Katsuki warns as he flips the pages of the binder to the first horrible section of a long list of equally horrible things; the venues.

"Don't worry about it, dude!" Red reassures with a confident thumb thrust into his puffed out chest. "I've got a great sense of style!"

-

So.

That was a fucking lie.

Red's got something - but it ain't style. A brain tumor, maybe.

"You want to do what?" Katsuki can't help but ask incredulously. His pen stalls in his casual note-taking as he raises an eyebrow and lifts his cheek off his clenched fist to better stare at the other man so that he knows just how ridiculous his dumb request sounds.

"You don't think that'd be awesome?!" Red expels with just as much disbelief, sitting up now with his hands thrown out wide in the air as though to adamantly argue his point. "First the ceremony, then the reception - or whichever one comes first, I guess I already forgot - but then, boom! Paintball tournament! It's fool proof, man!"

They've been at this for two hours now and Katsuki thinks there must be something seriously wrong with this guy. He's kind of starting to think that he isn't even really engaged. There's just no fucking way. He's literally a child with adult spending money.

"My mom ain't gonna plan a fucking paintball tournament for your wedding, I'll tell you that right now," Katsuki snorts with a further bewildered shake of his head at the very idea of it as he resettles his cheek against his fist again.

Red beams a mischievous sort of grin as he casually leans over to elbow Katsuki in the bicep. "Buuut your mom's not my wedding planner, you are! Right? C'mon, I can totally tell that you're way cooler than she is!"

Huh. Red's got some kind of a point there. Maybe not a complete one, or a valid one, but it's the start of something intriguing for sure.

Katsuki flicks his pen around in his fingers as he entertains this woefully horrible temptation to fuck with this painfully typical wedding design that Red's husband-to-be seems to be so dead set on having. Katsuki can't help but agree with the idiotic manchild; maybe that's what weddings need more of these days in order to be less shitty.

Some kind of entirely chaotic activity that causes real physical harm.

Besides, his mother did tell him that he was meant to do whatever it was that the customer wanted - whatever they ask for, just tell them you can do it and then figure it out from there! - and this overly enthusiastic redhead sitting on the other end of this leather couch from him wants a fucking paintball tournament at his wedding.

This temporary gig might be a lot more interesting than Katsuki originally gave it credit for.

"Alright, Red... you've piqued my interest," Katsuki concedes cautiously as he pens in a little added note at the bottom of the seventeenth modified color scheme they had finally settled on. "You want a paintball tournament, I'll give you a fucking paintball tournament."

"Woah, really?!" Red lights up like a fucking Christmas tree at that. "Oh man, you must be the best wedding planner ever!"

Katsuki tries not to look too smug. What a horrible fucking compliment, anyway. But still - Red's got the right idea. Katsuki was the fucking best.

He might not mind working with this idiot for the remainder of this project, after all.

"What other kind of crazy junk you want?"

"Oh, dude! I've got lots of ideas!"

-

A wedding generally takes anywhere from 200-500 hours to fully plan and execute. Katsuki's currently got about 10 1/2 logged with Red over the course of their past few meetings together, which only left a bare minimum of around 189.5 more hours to go.

Still, it wasn't really as painstaking or horribly boring as Katsuki had been expecting it to be. Despite the moron's horrendous sense of style and apparent fucking colorblindness, he did have a shit ton of incredibly dumb wedding event ideas to spout off endlessly about, and Katsuki was almost having trouble narrowing down which horribly inappropriate ones to choose to include in the draft proposal from their long ass list.

He couldn't believe how much he found that he really didn't mind walking into his mother's wedding studio in preparation for another long session with the weirdest client he's ever had the misfortune of meeting. This wedding was gonna be fucking awesome if Katsuki had anything to do with it.

His unusually optimistic attitude about this unfavorable situation changed rather abruptly when Red finally walked through the door a half an hour later, though. He wasn't alone this time.

Red's Fiancé was... not what Katsuki expected.

Not that Katsuki had really been expecting much of anything. To be honest, he'd almost forgotten that the dumbass even had one. But of course, it takes two to fucking tango, and here the lovebirds are now sitting on the opposite couch together from the one Katsuki had chosen.

"I read over the draft proposal last night and - " Red's Fiancé gives Red some kind of half-sympathetic/half-grimaced look. " - while I appreciate the eccentricity, I really don't think my family wants us to have a Slip N' Slide at our wedding."

Your family is fucking lame then, Middle Part. Katsuki crosses out the Slip N' Slide note in his binder with a disapproving scowl.

Red's face burns with a bright flush of color as he reaches a sheepish hand up to rub at the back of his head. "Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I went a little overboard with it. It was just really fun planning everything out with - "

Red blinks for a moment as his face smooths out before he glances in Katsuki's direction for what might have been the very first time since they had arrived. "Oh, I guess I've never really gotten your name before!"

Katsuki shifts in his seat and doesn't look up. "Katsuki."

"Right, Katsuki! It was really fun planning with him these past few sessions; he's gotta be the best one in the city or something - I was getting so excited for the wedding!"

Tch. Katsuki was sorta getting excited to see all the tom-fuckery come together, too. But whatever.

"I'm sure it'll be just as exciting," Middle Part tries to satiate like a parent calming down an obnoxious child with a condescending pat on Red's knee. The tone grates on Katsuki's nerves for reasons he can't even begin to come up with.

Middle Part turns back to Katsuki, then. "But in a more... traditional sense, if you know what I mean."

Katsuki's eyes narrow down at the binder in his lap, but he knows he's got a job to fucking do - his mother would have a damn heart attack or something if he didn't do what he was supposed to be doing right now - so he simply tears out the draft proposal form, crumples it up into a little ball, and tosses it carelessly over his head to land somewhere on the wooden floor behind his couch.

Back to boring old fucking business.

"Oh, I'd also like to go over the color scheme one more time? I'm more of a pastel person and the reds are all very... bright."

-

Katsuki can't stop thinking about it.

He hates that he can't stop thinking about it, but that doesn't make it any less true that he can't stop thinking about it.

Katsuki didn't know up-from-down about Red - fuck, he hadn't even been paying close enough attention to have ever caught the guy's real name - but something about their session yesterday with Middle Part didn't sit right with him.

It was all-in-all a very typical meeting. His mother would have been fucking ecstatic with the outcome. They changed the color scheme to something more pastel spring-timey and replaced the red Hibiscus flowers with some boring ass Tulips and they even had to go back and pick a different venue cause Middle Part had some kind of damn phobia of the fucking water or some shit and truly seemed to believe that the scenic lake-side cabin property that Red had chosen out on the outskirts of the city would be too much of a distraction for him to focus on The Big Day.

Pretty much everything that they had planned out together in their earlier sessions had to be changed. And throughout the entire fucking process, Red didn't say another damn word the whole time.

Not to give his opinion. Not to express any kind of interest or growing excitement. Not even to protest. He merely sat there with that plastered on goofy grin, with Middle Part's hand wrapped tight on his knee, and didn't say a single damn thing.

Katsuki can't stop fucking thinking about it. When he'd first met Red, he was certain that guy's COD was going to be suffocation from forgetting how to take a pause inbetween his incessant ramblings long enough to remember to breathe.

It wasn't even any of Katsuki's damn business. He knew that. And he didn't fucking care about the relationship dynamic of a newly-engaged couple that he didn't know and hadn't even met for more than a few hours. It just felt like such a big damn fucking waste of time because obviously this was all going to end in some kind of a divorce.

Middle Part was stiff and proper and had a huge stick up his ass, and Red was just so loud and expressive and wanted a fucking rock-climbing wall at his damn wedding. It was like watching some suburban soccer mom tame a real-life Rolling Stones Rockstar or some shit.

How did those two fuckers even meet in the first place? Fall in love? Get engaged? It didn't make any sense to Katsuki, and it was really starting to piss him off.

During their next session together a few days later (sans Middle Part again, who just had to run off and attend some hoity-toity business garden party or something else that happened to be more important than planning his damn wedding), Katsuki literally couldn't stop himself from asking, "You really want a boring ass wedding like this?"

Red stops mid-babble with his glass of champagne poised at his lips that Mitsuki had vehemently demanded that Katsuki supply for this next meeting - because how could he have ever forgotten to do such an important part of this overall incredibly lame process?

"Oh, I mean... it's not really supposed to be an actual party. It's more of a serious thing, you know?" Red tries pathetically to explain the purpose of a wedding to a(n unlicensed) wedding planner, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I guess I got a little carried away with it all before. Sorry if I wasted your time or anything, I told you I'm no good at planning this kind of stuff..."

There it is again. That incessant needling in Katsuki's gut that he'd noticed also happened when Middle Part had placed that hand on Red's knee and didn't let go of it for the entire time that they were sitting together on that damn couch.

Katsuki purses his lips into a thin line to prevent himself from saying anything asshole-ish, because he's sure that one of the rules to being The Best Wedding Planner Ever was not to insult the Fiancé.

"That's why I really need your help here, man!" Red continues on, unbothered by or just too plain stupid to recognize Katsuki's silence on the topic. "You're so talented; I just know you'll make it the best day ever!"

It slips out before Katsuki can even think about stopping it. "Shouldn't that be your new husband's job or something?"

Red blinks over at him in surprise at such a statement, and Katsuki blinks down at the binder in his lap because - fuck - even he knows that was way totally out of line.

"Let's just fucking finish picking out the - "

It's the movement that he spots out of his peripherals as Red leans forward to place his glass of champagne on the table that causes Katsuki to stiffen and finally snap his eyes up from where they'd been glued to the binder.

Shit, Red doesn't look good. His brows are furrowed and there's an uncharacteristically obvious frown on his lips as he watches the bubbles in the champagne glass float up to the top. Katsuki waits with held breath for him to do something more, his heart pounding in his chest, and eventually Red looks at him again and offers him an entirely forced apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I'm just... I'm not really feeling that great today. I think I'm gonna have to cut this session short, if that's okay."

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Katsuki's big ass mouth has gone and done it again. He doesn't even have enough time to try and salvage anything or react to such a sudden departure before Red is leaping up from the couch and scurrying across the studio towards the front doors.

Katsuki watches him leave with his pen hanging limp in his hand and his mouth slightly parted.

His mother was totally going to fucking ream him for fucking this one up.

-

"You said what?!"

Katsuki tosses an exasperated hand up in the air and glares harder from where he's standing at the foot of the bed in the master bedroom. He hasn't even taken his denim jacket off yet. "You didn't have to fucking meet this guy, alright?! He was pretentious and boring and - "

Mitsuki snorts with an angry roll of her eyes. "Newsflash, you fucking psychopath - you don't have to like the clients that you work for, you just have to do your damn job! He's not your Fiancé, this isn't your wedding!"

"I fucking know that! He just really fucking pissed me the fuck off!" Katsuki yells back, red-faced and frantic as he forces fingers to tangle through his explosive hair.

"You have to fix this, Katsuki - "

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Why's it gotta be my responsibility to convince this guy to marry that total fucking d-bag? It's gonna end in a divorce, anyway!"

"That's not even any of your fucking concern, moron! Let the divorce attorney deal with all of that crap!"

"It's not fair for Red!" Katsuki continues to argue adamantly none-the-less, slapping the back of his hand into the palm of the other for emphasis.

Mitsuki blinks over at him now, eyebrows scrunching in the center of her face and - shit, he doesn't like that look she's giving him at all. "Who the fuck is Red?"

"T-the fucking guy! The one I've been dealing with this whole damn time, the - "

"The guy who wanted to have a dunk-tank at his wedding?!" Mitsuki asks incredulously. "If you ask me, that's not fair to anyone getting married."

Katsuki glowers over at her as he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and curls them into tight fists to try and pull himself together.

"Least it would've been fucking entertaining to watch..." he grumbles bitterly, but fuck, he knows the old hag has a damn point.

Mitsuki's looking at him especially closely now and it's making Katsuki squirm under her laser-focused scrutiny. He clenches his jaw to combat the uncomfortable bout of feelings rumbling in his stomach and flings his hands (still secure in his pockets) out once more in a baiting sort of gesture.

"Fucking what?" Katsuki spits defensively.

"Oh... my god," Mitsuki leans back into the pillows on her king-sized bed like she's just been given the most horrible news. "Don't tell me you fell in love with a fucking client, Katsuki."

Katsuki's entire face scrunches up unpleasantly at that accusation like he's just swallowed an entire lemon. "The fuck?! Are you outta your goddamn mind!?"

"Are you?! Katsuki, he's engaged!" She whips one of her purple satin pillows at him. "You're supposed to be planning his wedding!"

Katsuki's hands are too tangled up in his pockets to prevent the assault and the pillow smacks stupidly against his chest and tumbles to the floor at his socked feet. "That's what I was trying to fucking do!"

"Really? Cause from what your dumbass just told me, it sounds a lot more like you've taken some kind of damn interest in this fucking guy and want to ruin his marriage before it's even started!"

Katsuki blinks at her because he doesn't even know what to fucking say in response to that. It's so totally outlandish and stupid. He's not fucking in love with Red - he doesn't even know that asshole! They've been in the same room together for approximately 25 hours - 4 1/2 of which Red hadn't even spoken a single damn word for!

Mitsuki heaves a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. It's like she can't even fucking look at him right now. "Just go, Katsuki. I should've never fucking asked you to do this for me in the first place."

Fuck.

Katsuki shifts his weight restlessly from one foot to the other. He knows he's an asshole, and he knows his mother's a batty fucking bitch, but that's why it always makes his stomach twist so uncomfortably whenever she looks at him like that - or rather, whenever she doesn't look at him like that.

Assholes needed to stick together, damnit!

"Mom, I'm fucking sorry or whatever, I just - "

"I know. Now leave. There's leftover soup in the fridge. Grab some when you go." Mitsuki picks up the magazine she had been perusing through before he'd so brutishly trampled his way into her room and she starts reading it again like he wasn't still standing there staring at her, and that was just the end of that.

Katsuki had fucked it all up. Someone's marriage, his mother's new client, her expectations of him - all of it. Fucked it right up from the ground up.

He clenches his jaw again and exhales a hard, agitated breath through his flaring nostrils before he snatches up the pillow on the floor and chucks it onto the bed as he stomps over to the door and finally leaves.

-

Katsuki has only ever bought flowers twice before.

Once when he got suspended from school for getting into a fight, and once when he totaled his piece of shit car trying to out race some idiot who had egged him on at a red light. Both times his mother had received them with the very same reactions - an incredulous stare, a long thoughtful pause, a heavy reluctant sigh, and forgiveness.

Lilacs were her favorites - and Katsuki only fucking knew that cause his old man used to drill it incessantly into his damn head all while growing up before that asshole had to go and die of brain cancer. ‘Whenever your mother is angry with me, I always buy her Lilacs. They soften her right up!’

That was the only reason why Katsuki was clutching onto such an embarrassing collection of recently purchased Lilacs as he pushed his way through the door of the Bakugou’s Wedding Studio a few weeks later.

He gave his mother time to cool off, and he went and got the damn flowers, and now he just needed to find the batty bitch.

There were quite a few people here today milling about on the furniture and perusing through the catalogues - some guy sitting next to his soon-to-be-wife was ogling the damn statue like he’d never fucking seen boobies before - and honestly, Katsuki would have turned around and walked right back into the street if he hadn’t spotted his mother’s head bobbing by somewhere in the background of all the fucking chaos.

Alright Katsuki, it’s fucking show time.

He regrips the Lilacs in his sweaty fingers as he maneuvers through a crowd of bridesmaids who are all screeching about something or another at a decibel that only fucking dogs can hear, before he finds himself suddenly face-to-face with his mother’s urgently frantic energy.

They both stop at the same time and stare at each other for a moment. Mitsuki breaks the silence with a click of her tongue again the roof of her mouth and a sharp turn of her gaze onto anything else in the room that isn’t him.

“I’m kind of busy right now - “ She tries to breeze past him but Katsuki just steps in her way and prevents her from leaving.

“Here.” He thrusts the Lilacs up into the space between them. His jaw tightens and he tries not to think about how fucking ridiculous he must look right now.

His mother’s list of reactions is consistent, at least; an incredulous stare that drifts down to eye at the Lilac bundle, a softening of her features as she takes in all of the different little purple petals - she’s probably thinking about dad, just like Katsuki does every time he has to wander into that damn flower shop on the other side of the city to purchase these stupid shits - and then... a heavy sigh.

She reaches out and takes them from him, and his hands dive back into his pockets purely on instinct and flustered nerves. Mitsuki looks up from the Lilacs and catches eyes with him again.

“They didn’t go through with it,” Mitsuki informs him. As if he even fucking cares.

“Hm.” He grunts back in some kind of forced response.

Mitsuki sighs again, softer this time, and runs the pad of her finger along the lush flowers. “Well... I’m sure business will be fine without them. I really wasn’t expecting such a rush like this today, so - “

“Uh... hello.” A voice interrupts from somewhere outside of their private family bubble.

Katsuki and Mitsuki both whip around and - holy motherfucking shit - it’s Red.

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a plaid shirt today, and his obnoxious spikes are loose and under the protection of a bandana. He grins sheepishly at the pair of them, his cheeks are already dusting with flushed color. “A-again, I guess. I just wanted to come by and apologize for wasting so much of your family’s time with... everything. I really hope I didn’t cause too much trouble for you.”

“Wait, you’re Red?” Mitsuki chimes in before Katsuki can even rub two brain cells together enough to spark any kind of a thought.

“Huh?” Red blinks at her in confusion before suddenly he’s laughing so loudly that people’s heads are starting to turn in their direction. “Oh! Haha, yeah I am! You can call me Eijirou, if that’s easier for you. Red works fine too, though, I guess!”

Eijirou.

“Anyway,” Red clears his throat, and he looks uncertain as he shuffles his weight around restlessly. “I know it was a bit of a shit show, but I really want to make up for it! I know some people who are recently engaged and I recommended your studio to them! Katsuki was so great with everything, and my friend Denki really wants to do something with zip-lining for his wedding!”

“Zip-lining?! Look kid, I appreciate the business, really, but - “

Katsuki elbows her hard in the ribs with a sideways glare sharp enough to cut glass. His mother eyes him back and they stare at each other for a long time, having one of their infamous telepathic arguments, before Mitsuki throws her hands in the air in added exasperation.

“Zip-lining, touch-tank, hell, I’ll order some fucking panda bears from the local zoo if they want it,” she declares to the heavens above.

Before Katsuki has the chance to snap at her, one of the dog-whistle bridesmaids is summoning her over from the other side of the room, and his mother beelines it towards them in an obvious attempt to escape. Katsuki watches her leave with a scowl.

“I, uh,” Red clears his throat again, and it causes Katsuki to snap his gaze back onto him once more. “I actually stopped by earlier this week but you weren’t here. I was kind of hoping to catch you, I... wanted to thank you.”

Katsuki blinks at him in disbelief. “Hah?! For fucking what? Ruining your goddamn wedding?”

“Ruin it?” Red’s head shoots up from where he’d been intently watching the tips of his sneakers. “Dude, are you for real? You didn’t ruin anything, you saved it! You saved me! I was always taught growing up that a wedding had to be perfect, and beautiful, and professionally photographed. And I was always told how stressful it all was and I was really nervous to come here and try to figure it all out - but when I was planning my wedding with you, it was... fun! And exciting! I couldn’t wait for it to arrive so I could watch all of my friends and family having the best time together on the most important day of my life!”

Katsuki can really only think to blink at him again, because truly, there must be something wrong with this fucking idiot. Nobody in the history of ever has probably been this excited for a botched wedding.

“Anyway,” Red shifts again, grinning that sheepish smile of his that squints his eyes and makes the flush on his face that much more prominent. “I know I was like... just engaged a few weeks ago or whatever but... do you want to maybe go play paintball with me sometime?”

Holy shit. Red was fucking asking him out on a date. Is that what was fucking happening right now?

There must be something wrong with Katsuki, too, because - “Sure, why the fuck not?”

Red is beaming again, and Katsuki’s heart is racing in his chest like some kind of dumb prepubescent child, and Katsuki’s never been to a fucking wedding before, but if he can manage not to fucking screw this up just like everything else, then he already knows that his and Eijirou’s wedding is going to be the best fucking one in history.

He’s already planning on it.

-

Author’s Note:// AHBXHBAXA - Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this dumb little short story! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated but never expected! <3

[inkblotsandpapertrails]

Heart of Stone {R.H.} [Pt 6]

Warnings: Angst

Pairing: Racetrack Higgins x Reader

Description: You didn’t agree with your brothers much. You didn’t like how they treated people or handled emotions and etcetera. But you could all agree that the Delancey’s were a proud family. A strong family. You didn’t get close to people, you didn’t show emotion, you didn’t let anyone have power over you, no matter what, because that made you weak. Except for the pretty newsboy with the foghorn voice and smart jokes, apparently.

A/N: i haven’t been making race suffer as much as i could be...

It was not a date.

You had been repeating that phrase in your head for the past few days. It was not a date. It was a rally. A newsboy rally, where everyone attending would be wearing simple work clothes, so it really didn’t matter if that was what you wore, too.

So why were you still hovering in front of the mirror, like if you stared at yourself hard enough, you’d magically change what you looked like?

Your clothes had been through hell the past week. Jumping out a window, crashing into a dirty alley, running through New York City, getting beat to hell and back, then running through New York City again had not been kind on your humble work clothes. Medda had done the best she could, and the woman was certainly a hell of a tailor, but it was still easy to see the faint stains of dirt and blood, the black thread against the white fabric of your shirt, and the mismatched patches decorating your trousers. You didn’t even know where your vest had run away to – the moment you’d realized it was missing, you’d spent about ten minutes panting in a corner while Medda frantically tried to calm you, panicking about what your uncle would do when he realized you’d lost an expensive vest. Then you remembered your uncle no longer took care of you anymore. You did not feel any better.

“Still staring into that mirror, Snow White?” Medda joked as she poked her head into your room.

“Evil Queen.” You said absentmindedly. “The Evil Queen’s the one with the mirror.”

“Eh, Snow White suits you better.”

You shot her a playful glare.

“Excuse you, Miss, I think you mean the Huntsman.”

Medda rolled her eyes and made her way fully into your room, and you couldn’t help the pang of fondness in your chest when you realized just how careful she was when it came to respecting your space.

“You’ve been saying all week how it isn’t a date.”

“It’s not!” You snapped far too quickly. “And it’s only been four days.”

“Potato, pot-ah-to.” Medda shrugged. “What’s got you all rattled?”

You lifted your shoulders in an awkward shrug.

“[Y/N].” Medda said firmly with a raised eyebrow.

“I-It’s just-“ You stammered quietly, feeling entirely too exposed in this situation. “I don’t care how I look, okay? I like my clothes. They’re comfortable, I – I feel comfortable in them. I’m used to them, y’know? Where I was brought up, stuff like dressing up, looking pretty, it was just... Unnecessary. It isn’t like I’d hate to dress up once in a while, but...”

“But?” Medda prompted.

“I – I know these clothes.” You stumbled over your words with how fast you were speaking. “And I know they’re messy and beaten up but they’re mine and I like them and I feel comfortable and safe in them and I just – I just...” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. “What if Race is expecting me to wear something... More than this?”

Medda sighed, moving to stand behind you at the mirror. She placed her hands gently on your shoulders – not hard, not hurting, just a comforting presence. A silent ‘you’re okay, I’m here’.

“What do you see?”

You wrinkled your nose.

“I dunno, a kid?”

“Well, that’s a better answer than what I was expecting.” Medda chuckled. “But I meant something a little more specific.”

“Work clothes?” You frowned. “Messy hair, eyebags? What?”

“No, you stubborn little raincloud.” Medda rolled her eyes. “I see a very determined young person. Someone who felt so deeply for people they didn’t even know that they went against everything they believed in to help them. Someone who had such a strong moral compass that they risked everything they had just to do what they thought was right. Someone brave and honest and kindhearted. And I can guarantee you that Race sees the same thing.”

You averted your gaze and thumbed at the fraying hem of your shirt.

“Even if I look like this?”

Medda tipped her head back and groaned.

“Oh, you stupid kids will be the death of me.” She sighed. “Look, kiddo – why did Race start talking to you?”

You furrowed your brow as you thought back to that sweltering day in July. So much had happened since then... Could it really only have been a week? You felt the corner of your mouth twitch into a smile when you remembered Race cockily smirking at your uncle, his cheeky comments in his foghorn voice. The way he looked at you like you were this foreign object, something totally new and exciting that he’d never seen before...

“I laughed at his joke.” You said quietly. “He was making my uncle go crazy, saying all the stuff I wished I could say... So I laughed, and he heard me. And then he wouldn’t leave me alone, the asshole-“

“No cursing in my theatre, ya little wretch.” Medda flicked you over the head with her finger, making you giggle. “You see? That’s what brought him over to you. Not what you wear, or how you look. Understand?”

You nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” A small smile curved over your face as a spark of warmth bloomed in your chest. “I like him.”

“Oh?”

You groaned and tipped your head into Medda’s shoulder.

“I like him!” You whined. “Ugh, I like him so much. I hate it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” You muttered. “But it’s... It’s so weird.”

“Oh, honey, it’s always weird the first time.” Medda snickered, patting your shoulder gently. “It’s fun and embarrassing and exciting and scary and... Oh, it’s wonderful.”

“Mostly embarrassing, though.” You said petulantly.

“And you can stop that right now.” Medda huffed, swatting your shoulder. “That’s your silly teenager brain talking. Being in love is beautiful, don’t be scared of it! I know something’s strange when you’ve never felt it, but honey, you mustn’t run from it, okay? Especially not when it’s with someone special. Don’t throw something away just because you’re not used to it.”

You swallowed heavily. A small part of you wanted to object to the ‘love’ part. You and Race had only known each other for a week – granted, you were usually always thinking of him; ‘oh, that’s a cute dog, Race would go crazy over it’, ‘wow, this sandwich is great, I should get Race to try it’, ‘I’m cold, I wish Race were here to-‘ -  well, that part didn’t matter. And yeah, maybe you missed him when he wasn’t there, and maybe he made you happier than you ever thought you could be, and maybe – oh.

Oh.

“I, um.” You mumbled shakily. “I-I won’t.”

Medda looked about ready to make another smart comment when you heard a knock on your room door.

“Gotta go.” You grinned, darting out of the bathroom and ignoring Medda’s protests that ‘the damn rally’s only downstairs, [Y/N], slow your roll!’. You rolled your eyes and scampered through your bedroom, so caught up in your eagerness that you tripped over the doorway and collapsed into a firm chest.

“Whoa!” Race laughed, grabbing your shoulders to steady you. “Gee, someone’s happy to see me!”

“Shut up.” You shoved him away with a roll of your eyes. “Or I won’t come.”

“Aw, c’mon, [Y/N]!” Race whined pitifully. “After I bragged aboutcha to all the fellas?”

“You did not.”

“Sure I did! Ask Albert, he threw a chair at me.”

“You’re so weird.” You scoffed, ignoring the way your stomach flipped at the idea of Race bragging about you. The two of you looked at each other for a moment, entirely content to just smile each other and know exactly what the other was thinking, when you heard a small squeak from behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see Medda grinning in the back of the room, her hands cupped over her mouth.

“Ignore me.” She smiled. “Ignore me, I’m not here.”

You rolled your eyes and slammed the door.

“C’mon, let’s go.” You scoffed, making your way to the stairwell.

“Hey, hey, hold on a second!” Race protested, swinging you around by your arms in a way that was so disgustingly romantic you weren’t sure how to handle it. He held you by both hands, looking you up and down like he wanted to take in every little detail.

“What’re you doing, idiot?” You snorted, avoiding his piercing gaze.

“Just lookin’ at’cha.” Race said quietly. “You look nice.”

You cocked your head and glanced at your grubby sleeves.

“I look the same as I always do, Race.”

Race met your eyes with a curious smile.

“So?”

And just like that, you were set alight. If your brothers were here, they’d scoff and scold and mock you for being so easily undone. For losing all ability to speak over one simple word. Over one simple boy. They’d tell you to grow up, to stop acting like a mooning little kid, to realize how stupid you were being and in that moment, all you could think of was how you just... Didn’t care.

You should’ve. It felt weird not to. Their grip on you had been so strong – how could it just go after a week? But the only thing you could think of was Race. Race’s smile, Race’s eyes, the way Race looked at you like you were worth something...

The way Race made you feel like you could be more than you were ever meant to be.

You took half a step forward and placed your hands on his shoulders, pulling him into a sheepish brush of lips. It lasted half a second, possibly even less, but when you pulled back, Race was looking at you with wide eyes. You bit back a proud smile. You don’t think anyone had ever looked at you like they wanted you before. Like you were something special.

“Let’s go.”

“Uh – yeah.” Race stammered, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, let’s, um... Y-You look nice.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“You said that already.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah.” Race chuckled. “So, um...” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you linked your arm through his.

“You’re so dumb.” You snorted, shoving him with your shoulder, which made him shove you with his, which made you shove him hard and run down the stairs with Race hot on your heels screaming for vengeance.

You loved every second of it.

oOo

The night went from dreamlike to nightmare in about three minutes. Personally, you thought it had to be some kind of record.

“Race!” You yelled, jumping over the crowd to search for a mop of blonde hair. Everything was moving in a blur – the newsies were all in disarray, littles crying and teenagers yelling; pretty much all of the Manhattan newsies were scrambling, desperately trying to explain what had happened while the other boroughs turned on them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a flash of golden curls.

“Race!” You cried, tearing after him as he ducked through the theatre doors. “Race, wait!”

You grabbed his wrist. He yanked it out of your grip and whirled around, and it was then you saw the tears running down his cheeks.

“Race, I-“

“Don’t.” He snapped. “I don’t – he fucking-!”

“I know.” You said quickly, running your hand soothingly down his arm. “I know, Racer, I know-“

“Do you?!” Race cried. “Tell me, [Y/N], fucking tell me how you know. When did something like this ever happen to you? When did your friend, your family, the person you risked everything for, just completely betray you in front of everyone?!”

You narrowed your eyes.

“You’re right, Race. When have I ever known what it’s like to have your family let you down and stab you in the back?”

Race softened, deflating before your eyes.

“I didn’t-“ He said quietly. “I’m sorry...”

You sighed. He looked so lost, so scared... You could only imagine the amount of pressure he had on his shoulders. You swept him into your arms and squeezed him tight, as if you were tethering him to the ground.

“I know.” You murmured in his ear. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“The newsies...” Race whimpered. “They’re gonna – I don’t – Jesus, [Y/N], I ain’t ready for this!”

“I know, I know. It’s not fair.”

“I don’t know what to do!”

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here with you.” You murmured, rocking him back and forth. “Come home with me, okay? Come to my room.”

“The lodgin’ house, the newsies... [Y/N], they need me-“

“You’ve been working yourself to the bone for days, Race.” You said firmly. “You need rest. One hour, alright? One hour, rest, stay with me. We’ll figure out what to do together, I promise.”

Race shuddered in your hold, his head jerking in a nod against your neck. Wordlessly, you tugged him to the theatre’s fire escape and led him up the ladders, waiting on each platform to help him up. He clung to your hand similarly to the way a child might cling to their parent’s clothes, terrified of losing them and not knowing where to go. You guided him through the window of your room and shut it behind you, dragging the thin curtains shut.

“Here.” You said gently. “Bed.”

Race shook his head.

“It’s yours, I can just-“

Without even acknowledging his protests, you nudged him backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed. You hopped onto the mattress and pulled Race down with you until you were both cuddled up on the tiny twin bed, your body crammed against the wall and Race just teetering on the edge of the mattress.

“This is your bed.” Race muttered half-heartedly. “I shouldn’t even be here right now, I gotta go the lodging’s an’-“

“Race.” You said gently. “Y’know how you’re always trying to get me to take help? It goes both ways.”

Race screwed his eyes shut and took a shuddering breath. You stroked your hand against his cheek, and tried to ignore the pang of sympathy you felt when he leaned against it in a way that was almost involuntary, as if he was so desperate for touch he hadn’t even bothered to think about keeping up his strong façade.

“It’s just us, Race.” You murmured. “You and me, okay? I’m here. And I ain’t going.” You smiled, remembering that day in the alley, the two of you excited and terrified, rocking on the brink of you didn’t even know what. “No matter how scary it is, or how bad things get. Okay?”

Race looked at you for a moment, lips parted and eyes wide and shining. His lip twitched, and that was the only warning you got before he began to cry.

You sighed and pulled him against you, holding him close to your chest as he wept into your shoulder.

“What do I do?” He sobbed pitifully. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tangled your hand in his hair, keeping him anchored to you.

“I don’t know, love.” You whispered. “Don’t think about that now, okay? Get all this out, and then we can start on the rest.”

Race made a devastating sound in the back of his throat, a broken cry that made your heart shatter inside your chest, and clutched at your clothes desperately.

“M’sorry,” he panted between his sobs, “m’sorry, m’sorry, this is so – God, you must think-“

“I think you need to cry right now.” You said firmly, pulling one of his hands away from your shirt and pressing it to your lips. “I think you need someone to hold you and tell you you’re safe. And I want to be that someone, okay? So if you need to cry, then cry. I won’t let go, Race. I want to be here.”

Another sob wracked through Race’s body. You shushed and soothed as best you could, running your fingers through his hair and rubbing circles on the back of his hand as he cried. Eventually, his heaving sobs gave way to smaller shudders, until even those were replaced by the gentle rise and fall of tired breaths. You couldn’t help but smile at his sleeping form – he looked so sweet, so at peace. He deserved that, you thought. Race deserved so, so much.

Your door creaked open. You lifted your head to see Medda poking her head into your room, looking at you with concern. She pointed at Race, mouthing something along the lines of ‘okay?’. You made a see-saw motion with your hand. She winced and motioned to come inside. You shook your head, cradling Race’s head against your chest with care. You could handle this one. Medda smiled gently and nodded, closing the door quietly behind her.

Race murmured something in his sleep, nudging his head against your now still hand. You tried not to laugh and continued your stroking, thoroughly enjoying his little hum of content as he nuzzled against your collarbone.

Yes, you decided. You could handle this one. No matter what Race was going through, you would always handle it with him. If he wanted you there, that was.

Race tightened his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

You decided to take that as a yes.

(tag list: @annabethgranger123 @farfromjustordinary @yxseminx @oswin05 @theater-geek76 @wnygirl2012 @fayepummeluff  @enbyalbert @inconspicuousasparagus )

[runaway-train-works]

I'm happy to see you are possibly writing again, I love your fics! What WIPs do you have at the moment?

Oh Nonnie! This is so lovely, thank you! I’m really glad you enjoy my fics! 

I have had a lot going on this last year with pandemic fucking up my life in more ways than one, as well as suffering from a severe case of writer's block, so I’ve been annoyingly dabbling in lots of things but failing to actually get anything finished. However, I’m hoping the winds of change are finally going to give me a break and so I might actually complete something soonish!

In answer to your question about my WIPs, I fear you might regret asking this question because I have so many! I’ve had to put them under the cut but if you fancy reading more about them then you can check them out, and feel free to ask me any questions about any of them!

And All Because I’m Mad About The Boy

The 5th instalment of my Ad Au series. It’s going to be a long one I think, and will feature them going on their stag dos (bachelor parties) as well as a decent bit of angst! I’ve written the first section as well as some notes on later sections. 

Black Mirror

This is the fic I go on about but have never written more than the opening scene of. It’s kind of Black Mirror meets Total Recall - Harry goes to a company that downloads holiday experiences straight into your brain, and he has a holiday romance with ‘Louis’ A year later, he sees Louis in real life and it all unravels from there. 

Boxer ABO AU

Louis is a sassy omega who is quite snobby when it comes to ‘alpha thugs’ that box, but gets dragged along to a boxing event by Liam and meets boxer Harry. Harry asks him out, and Louis turns him down, however, he’s unreasonably miffed when Harry takes the turn down a little too well and precedes to do all the chasing, much to Harry’s amusement. 

Cursed Is The Fool Who’s Willing

My ABO fic I have already written 70K for. I need to get back to this, I’ve just come to a point where I’m so stuck with the plot that it’s a real struggle, even though I know how it’s going to end. Very frustrating, but I will finish this if it kills me. The general plot is Louis regularly offers himself up as an omega for alpha ruts, but has a strict no real names, no repeats policy. That is until he meets Harry who gets under his skin.

Dreams ABO

I actually wrote about 10k of this after my very first fic, but haven’t really returned to it. Harry is an alpha in his last year of high school, and Louis is a new omega who decides on his first day that Harry is his alpha and they’re meant to be together. Harry isn’t so sure. 

Gotta Blame It On My Juice

I started writing this for the ridic fic exchange but had to drop it and pinch-hit another fic at the time. I even have commissioned artwork for it! The prompt was ‘Louis is a registered sex therapist and he is pretty sure his new next-door neighbor, Harry, has a fetish for old women because he keeps having elderly women over and they always leave his house in a wheelchair (seriously where does he get all these wheelchairs?), turns out he's just a vampire who likes old lady blood the best (that is, until he tastes Louis) 

Grumpy Neighbour

This was meant to be a fest last year but never got it finished, based on Harry being Louis’ grumpy neighbour who Louis is pretty determined to win over, so when his shower breaks, he keeps going over to Harry and Niall’s flat to use theirs and walking around in just a towel. 

Harry/Troye

Haven’t got a title yet, but based on a Tik Tok of Troye’s where he gets flirted with by the receptionist when he’s getting his sexual health screening, 

Housesitter AU

I have a 4K outline of this and I’m pretty into the idea actually. Fake relationship AU based on the film with Goldie Hawn and Steve Martin but a few differences. Louis is high school hearts with Liam, and when he buys a house in the village they grew up as a surprise for them to live in, Liam tells him he’s actually been wanting to break up. Louis has a sort of rebound one night stand with Harry and tells him about the empty house. A few weeks later, he turns up to sell it to find Harry’s been living there and has told everyone he’s Louis’ fiancé as a cover. Cue a fake relationship to help mend Louis’ broken relationship with his parents as well as win Liam back by posing as the perfect husband material, but it doesn’t quite work out like that. 

I Was Just Tongue Tied

Gay disaster Harry meets Louis in a sushi restaurant and tells too many fish puns. 

If You Bring Your Blue Skies Back

Gay disaster Louis meets Harry on a plane and repeatedly embarrasses himself.

Let’s Get Into Physical

Liam meets Harry in a yoga class and is pretty oblivious to Harry’s advances. 

Lumberjack

I was writing this a while ago for a Christmas fest and wrote about 10K, but then other lumberjack fic came out and I gave it up. Based on writer Louis going to his usual remote Scottish getaway to finish his new book, but the new local maintenance/lumberjack type guy Harry is very good looking, very distracting and very NOT into Louis. 

Moments

Louis is a married man but goes to a gay speeding dating night with Liam for moral support but meets Harry and his world turns upside down. 

Pretences

My Big Bang from last year I never finished (sensing a theme yet?) Got to about 20k but it just got so big. I thought from my outline I had it all worked out but when I actually started writing it, it just seems like such a huge fic that I struggled. Based on Louis being a doppelgänger for the Prince and he’s asked to step in for the royal wedding day when the princess is getting married. Harry is the one that helps him through it all. 

Sad Songs Say So Much

Girl direction fic based on Louis knowing when Harry is upset because she always plays the same sad songs playlist so goes out her way to make her happy, and Harry has no idea. 

Sharry

Adore You/Lost In Japan canon fic about Harry and Shawn hooking up in Japan. 

Shiall

Fake Relationship AU based on Niall asking Shawn to go to a work dinner party as his fake boyfriend, but Shawn plays the role a little too well. 

This City’s Gonna Break My Heart

My Narry fic that I’ve been chipping away at, which is disgustingly overdue. Based on the song Heartbreak Weather, where Niall hooks up with Harry one night and it becomes a casual thing but Niall’s more into it than he would like to admit. 

Wouldn’t It Be Lovely

Based on My Fair Lady, Harry is an art curator that must turn Louis into a ‘respectable artist’ rather than the tracksuit wearing chav he is. I kind of gave up when I realised that it wasn’t the nicest storyline and Harry would have to be an insufferable dick for most of the fic. 

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 13 | Chapter 15 | AO3 link

“Ugh, do they seriously think I’m going to get my hands dirty cooking like some maid?” Chloé scoffs loudly as Marinette’s father demonstrates how to make the perfect ganache. “If I want a croissant, I just make my butler get it for me.”

“He’s not making croissants, Chloé!” Rose says as Adrien shoots Chloé a quick look out of the corner of his eye, debating whether to tell her to pipe down or avoid making a scene. “Those are macarons!”

“It’s all done with a flick of the wrist!” Tom says, still stirring the ganache. “But you mustn’t go too fast or you might splash yourself!”

“And soil my Chanel pants?” Chloé complains. “Who’s he kidding?”

Tom holds out the mixing bowl to demonstrate the emulsion, and Adrien has two choices: he can do the right thing and tell Chloé to shut up, or he can lean in to see the emulsion and ignore her, letting her grow even worse. Marinette’s words from last week come swimming to the forefront of his mind.

“I’m telling you this because you’re the only person she’ll listen to.”

But just before Adrien can gather himself enough to tell Chloé to stop it, he catches sight of Marinette leaning in to see the bowl with sparkling grey eyes and his confidence ruptures like a pin in a balloon. He can’t call Chloé out now. If he does, he could ruin this whole thing for Marinette, when she looks so happy to have her father here to show them how to bake. And ever since the photoshoot, ruining anything for Marinette is the absolute last thing that Adrien will ever do.

Later, he decides. Next time Chloé’s mean, I’ll call her out. She can’t do too much harm beyond a few nasty comments anyway, right?

Decision made, he leans in with Nino to view the bowl until Tom takes it back and asks Marinette to go and put it in the fridge in the cafeteria and Lila volunteers to accompany her. But why does he feel like there’s a stone in the pit of his stomach?

His question is answered when the fire alarm goes off moments after Marinette leaves the room and Miss Bustier leads them out of the class in an orderly fashion. When they’re gathered in the courtyard and Principal Damocles is grilling them to find the one who called the fire department with a false alarm, Adrien can’t properly focus. All he can think about is how he’d once again turned a blind eye and pretended that everything was fine to avoid getting involved. But Marinette had been right: ignoring Chloé’s antics hadn’t made them disappear.

In fact, when Chloé smugly points the finger at Marinette and declares that she must be guilty because she was absent from the classroom when the alarm went off, Adrien starts to wonder if his inaction had just made the situation even worse.

“Uh, excuse me, sir, but it couldn’t possibly be Marinette,” he pipes up, raising his hand and hoping that he at least doesn’t outwardly look like he’s a mess internally. “Why would she disrupt her own father’s cooking class?”

Marinette’s look of gratitude tells him that he’d done the right thing by standing up for her, especially when Alya chimes in to add that Marinette didn’t have her phone when she left the classroom and Lila adds that she’d been with Marinette the whole time and can confirm that Marinette definitely hadn’t done it. But he can’t help feeling that it’s too little too late and that there’s still going to be backlash from this situation.

Part of him wishes that Marinette had never given him that talk. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so…guilty right now, like he’s had a hand in this purely by not using his power to rein Chloé in. But part of him knows that Marinette had been right to give him that talk, and that he really does need to stand up and speak out, especially when he’s the only one with the power to do so. Ignoring Chloé in class certainly hasn’t made this go away, after all.

“Well, we all know it can’t be me,” Chloé says in that tone of voice that all but says that she is the culprit but good luck proving it.

“I’m not gonna let her get away with this!” Marinette hisses. “I’ve gotta tell –”

“Hang on, Marinette.” Adrien rests a hand on her shoulder so that he can better whisper in her ear without anyone but Alya overhearing. “We don’t know for sure it was her.” He means to tell her not to make a scene when she’s got no proof, to let him talk to Chloé first and try to right this wrong, but Alya jumps to agree with him and add something about not stooping to her level before he can get the words out.

“Fine,” says Mr Damocles. “Since no one is owning up, the whole school will be punished!”

Adrien’s stomach drops, while everyone around him gasps and protests. This is so unfair! Why is he being punished for something he hasn’t done?

Selfish, selfish, chides a nasty little voice in his head. You had your chance to put a stop to Chloé’s antics in class. This is punishment for your inaction.

“What?” Chloé bursts out behind Adrien, her shrill voice smothering the voice in his head. “I’m not so sure my father will react so kindly to me being punished without any proof!”

Adrien’s heart skips a beat. Despite the overwhelming knowledge that Chloé won’t actually do so, he can’t help but hope that she’s going to shut the principal down all the way and get them all out of this punishment. But apparently, she doesn’t see the hypocrisy in weaselling her way out of punishment without proof while letting the rest of them suffer for something there’s no proof of them doing, as she smiles rather smugly and tucks her phone away after Principal Damocles declares that she is the only one exempt from punishment.

She didn’t even try to bail you out either, says the nasty voice. She threw you to the wolves with everyone else. Is she really that great a friend? All she does is hang off you and smother you, no matter how much you ask her to stop.

Adrien’s lost in his thoughts as he shuffles off with the crowd to collect cleaning supplies for their punishment. There’s so much he could have done. He could have spoken out, pointed out that Chloé’s logic should apply to them all and no one should be punished until the culprit is found. As much as he loathes using the Agreste name, he could have used it in this instance to cow Mr Damocles into submission just as Chloé does with her father’s name. Chloé might get away with exempting herself from punishment, but she probably wouldn’t be able to do much about no one being punished. Demanding that she be exempt from punishment is an easier injustice to ignore than demanding that everyone be punished after the punishment is lifted from everyone, as that just makes her look plain vengeful. And she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it without pitting her father against Adrien’s when she knows very well that if she does that, she alienates Adrien, which is another reason why he never does it.

Is she really your friend? is the question replaying on a loop in Adrien’s mind as he scrubs the window while Chloé lounges nearby on her phone, surveying the courtyard of working students. She’d just let her “Adrikins” take the fall for something he hadn’t even done; something that she’d done. In fact, this isn’t even the first time she’s done this. Adrien distinctly remembers his very first day of school, when Chloé had stuck gum on Marinette’s seat and let him take the fall for it and be branded “Chloé’s friend”. If he hadn’t gotten lucky enough to get Marinette to believe the truth, he would’ve ended up with her hating him, and the thought of sweet Marinette hating him is enough to make his stomach roll.

Now he understands why no one wants to be branded with that label; this is a side of Chloé Bourgeois that makes him sick, a side that he’s been trying to ignore all year for fear of losing his first and, for the longest time, only friend.

“If Chloé hates you because you make her take responsibility for her actions, then she’s not really your friend. Sometimes…the right thing is the hard thing, and you just have to do it, even if that means losing those years of friendship.”

He looks over at Chloé, who’s bullying Rose by calling her Cinderella – yes, bullying, because that’s the only word to accurately describe just how gleeful she looks at picking on Rose – and then looks down at his own hands. Does he really want to be friends with someone who’s so disgustingly nasty? Does he really want to associate himself with that behaviour by virtue of inaction?

“What do you have? Friends who like you as Adrien. Friends who you used to sneak out to see even though your father never let you go,” Plagg’s voice says in his head. He realises that while he’s terrified of losing Chloé and ending up friendless, being alone is no longer a possibility. He’s been at this school for months now, and not only is he friendly with all his classmates, but he’s also got friends. Real friends that he’s made himself! He’s got Nino, who feels like more of a best friend than Chloé’s been all year. He’s got Alya, who’s hilarious and fun to hang out with, even if they’re not as good friends as he is with Nino.

And he’s got Marinette. Marinette, who’d not only made him a scarf by hand with her own time and materials but had also let him think it was from his father purely because she’d known how much that would mean to him. Marinette, who had staged a protest and then gone and tracked down Ladybug just so that he could go back to school, knowing how much school meant to him. Not only that, but she’d risked her own future fashion career by making a negative impact on such an influential fashion designer with her protest and defying him in such a way.

The sound of Rose crying snaps Adrien out of his mental mess, and he looks over to see Chloé smirking widely and lazing back on the bench while Rose shuffles off with her broom, wiping her eyes.

“There’s a quote by Majestia that Alya told me on our first day of school that’s stuck with me: “all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing”,” says Marinette’s voice.

“You were picked to be Chat Noir because you can be brave and selfless and put others before yourself. Don’t act like a spoiled brat and prove Master Fu wrong,” Plagg’s voice adds.

Scowling, Adrien storms over to Chloé with clenched fists. Oblivious to his fury, she squeals, “Adrikins!” and throws her arms around him, crushing him while he tries to dislodge her. He’s once again reminded of Nino and Marinette and Alya, who never touch him without his permission or hang off him, and his heart swells for them as he finally tugs Chloé off him and sets her on her feet at arm’s length.

“Tell me, was it you, Chloé?” he says in a hushed voice, not wanting anyone else to overhear. Just because he’s finally calling Chloé out doesn’t mean that he needs to make this a public spectacle, which feels like an appropriate compromise until he’s more comfortable with publicly standing up against injustice and wrongdoing.

“Of course it was me who called the fire department,” Chloé brags, crossing her arms, no trace of remorse anywhere on her body. “So what?”

“And it doesn’t bother you that everyone’s being punished because of you?” Adrien says in one last-ditch attempt to get Chloé to display some semblance of humanity.

“No,” Chloé says immediately. “Why would it? They all seem to enjoy getting dirty making cookies. How’s it any different getting dirty cleaning floors? They should be thanking me, if anything.”

Adrien takes a deep breath so that he doesn’t end up going off at her. What he’s about to do is going to hurt enough, so there’s no point in making it more painful than it needs to be. “Chloé,” he sighs, facepalming. “How long have you and I been friends?”

“Since we were adorable little tots, Adrikins!” Chloé coos. Her kissy face makes him nearly take a step back out of fear that she’s going to jump at him and try to actually kiss him.

“Well,” he says, shaking his head, heart hammering at the terror of taking action rather than ignoring it like he’s done in the past. “Sorry, Chloé, but I can’t be friends with someone who treats other people like this. You’ve gotta be nice to people.”

“N-Nice?” Chloé squeaks, the word sounding foreign coming from her mouth. She looks around at the courtyard, and everyone glares back at her in response.

“Yes,” Adrien says firmly. He has to stick to this. He can’t just retract it when she turns on the waterworks, because Marinette’s right: he’s the only one with the power to make her learn and change. “It’s not that hard.”

He turns and walks off, back to the window he should be cleaning, leaving Chloé to process the fact that they’re no longer friends. But it’s not just out of respect for her feelings. It’s also because if he looks back and sees her devastated face, he doesn’t trust himself not to cave and give her one more chance.

.

Marinette must have fallen through a wormhole into another dimension. Maybe Hawkmoth had created an akuma with the power to send people across time and space. That’s quite possibly the only reason for Chloé to not only have thrown a party for everyone with seemingly no agenda whatsoever, but to also have invited Marinette.

Or maybe the latest akuma is mind-controlling Chloé? Reversed her personality? Something? Anything?

“Adrikins!” squeals the voice from every one of Marinette’s nightmares. Chloé comes dashing through the crowd of people milling in the ballroom of Le Grand Paris to throw herself onto Adrien and kiss his cheeks, and Marinette grits her teeth and forces herself not to say anything because why do people keep touching Adrien without his permission?

“Hey, it’s okay!” Lila whispers as Chloé brags to Adrien about being nice, which is a story that Marinette’s very interested to hear. “You know Adrien’s not into her at all! You can relax.” She nudges Marinette teasingly.

“I’m not jealous!” Marinette argues, resisting the urge to tear her hair out in frustration. She’s not! She’s mad that Chloé can’t see how uncomfortable she makes Adrien! Why does everyone have to reduce her to some silly, lovesick, jealous girl just because of a crush?

Her mood swiftly improves, though, when Rose rushes over to kiss Chloé on the cheeks and thank her for the invitation, followed by Kim and Max. But then the universe plays possibly the worst joke ever on Marinette by having a dazed Chloé walk off and nearly slam into Marinette, then freeze as she comes to the same conclusion as Marinette: that she also needs to kiss Marinette’s cheeks in greeting. And not only is this bad enough, but literally everyone in the whole room has paused what they’re doing to watch the two archrivals be forced to play nice with each other.

Marinette’s totally not going to do it. As Chloé leans in, she’s tempted to shriek and back away while warding a cross and chanting an exorcism. But she feels Tikki shift in her purse, no doubt wanting to get a closer look at what’s going on, and she realises that she needs to suck it up and just do it. She’s Ladybug! She can handle two seconds of a polite greeting! She just needs to pretend she’s wearing the mask and she’s not Marinette right now, because Ladybug can’t snap and tell Chloé to buzz off. If Chloé can be nice then so can she.

Two seconds and then it’s over, and Marinette and Chloé are staggering away and coughing and spluttering to erase all traces of the friendly greeting. Alya cackles and says, “I should have gotten it on video!” and while Marinette’s not too happy that her best friend is teasing her about this like it’s a great big joke that she’d had to play nice with her bully, she also gets that Alya isn’t trying to be malicious or anything.

“You don’t need to rub it in,” is what she ends up saying, playing along with Alya’s teasing.

Soon enough, the party’s in full swing, but Marinette can’t find it in herself to enjoy it. There has to be some ulterior motive to this, because Chloé Bourgeois doesn’t just play nice for fun. Marinette finally has her answer when, a short distance away, Chloé tears into Mylène but then visibly collects herself and nods at the shorter girl before walking off. Marinette doesn’t miss how she shoots a glance at Adrien, who’s also sitting there with Nathaniel, before she leaves.

“This whole BFF thing is just one big charade!” Marinette scowls to Alya and Lila. Why can’t anyone else see past it? Maybe they’re just giving her the benefit of the doubt, while Marinette’s too blinded by her dislike of Chloé when she’s normally the first one to extend the olive branch to people. “She’s just doing it to get close to Adrien!”

“But you didn’t want to come to this party until you knew Adrien would be here too,” Lila points out, smoothing down her short tangerine dress. “Remember when we were modelling your designs for you and we got the invites?”

Normally, Marinette would just let a comment like that slide. But she’s already annoyed by how Chloé’s got everyone hooked by her fake niceness act to blatantly suck up to Adrien, and she’s absolutely sick of how Lila’s just dismissing her as jealously lovesick rather than someone who’s fed up with her archrival’s bullshit, especially when Lila was the one to out her crush to Adrien in the first place.

“Please don’t compare me to Chloé,” Marinette snaps, crossing her arms. “That’s not fair, Lila. I might have my moments, but I’m never constantly mean and rude like she is. I never bully people like she does!”

“Whoa!” Lila holds her hands up. “I’m so sorry if I upset you! I…well, I was just saying that you also didn’t want to play nice until Adrien was involved –”

“Um, I wouldn’t go there –” Alya says.

“And why would I have wanted to come to Chloé’s party unless the only person she’s nice to was coming too?” Marinette says. “Why can’t I ever be upset about something without people insisting that it’s because of Adrien, like I’m some stupid, jealous teenage girl? I know I went too far sometimes, but – but – just don’t! How is me coming to a party because my friend is also going the same as Chloé only not being a bully because of him?”

She’s breathing hard after her outburst, light-headed, while Alya and Lila stare at her in wide-eyed shock.

“Marinette –” Lila says, her eyes starting to glisten. Marinette’s stomach drops. Nope, no way, if she’s made someone cry then she can’t do this –

“I need some fresh air,” Marinette blurts out, stumbling away from Alya and Lila towards the hotel doors. This is exactly why she never stands up for herself. Standing her ground leads to disappointing other people, and how can she be a nice person if she disappoints others? But at the same time, she just couldn’t stand there and continue to be labelled a silly, lovesick girl.

“You did the right thing, Marinette,” Tikki says, zooming out of Marinette’s purse when they’re alone in a nearby alleyway and Marinette can sink to the ground with her back against the wall.

“Did I?” Marinette says, blinking rapidly so that she doesn’t burst into tears. The last thing she needs is for Chloé to see that she’s been crying; Chloé won’t ever let that go, as nice as she’s claiming to be now. “Did you see Lila’s face? I – she – upset her made, Tikki! What if – what if – gah – I am Chloé just like?”

“Marinette, listen to me.” Tikki hovers in front of Marinette’s face, and Marinette forces herself to focus on the kwami’s lilting voice rather than the panic bubbling in her chest and stomach. “You weren’t mean to Lila. You just stood up for yourself.”

“But I made her upset!”

“You didn’t say what you said to upset her. You said what you said to stand up for yourself. People are always going to be upset when you show them that they’re wrong, because they don’t like that feeling. No one walks around thinking that they’re wrong. But I know Lila will realise that she’s wrong and she won’t hate you.”

“What if she is still upset, though?”

“Then that’s her problem.” Tikki nuzzles against Marinette’s cheek. “You weren’t wrong in setting your boundaries, and you weren’t mean about it.”

Marinette takes a deep breath, then smiles and hugs Tikki. “Thanks, Tikki. You’re always there for me when I need you.”

“Of course I am, silly,” Tikki giggles. “You’re my friend. I’m – Marinette, look out!”

Marinette’s head whips around and her stomach drops when she catches sight of the purple-black butterfly circling above her head. She shrieks and leaps to her feet, backing away down the alley and looking for something – anything – she can use to protect herself.

“Calm down, Marinette!” Tikki urges, swooping to her side. “The akuma can’t get you if you’re not upset!”

But it’s too late. Before Marinette can put a lid on her emotions, the butterfly darts towards her head, and she’s only able to turn her head just enough that it sinks into a hair ribbon rather than an earring. Immediately, her feelings of terror and distress and raw anger explode, surging through her like lava, filling her with the need for justice, to make this right.

“Miroir, I am Hawkmoth,” says a smooth voice in Marinette’s head. “Your friend calls you a mirror image of the girl who bullies you? Well, I’m giving you the power to show everyone their own mirror images and make them reflect a little on themselves. All I ask for in return is –”

“No.” The word is weak and broken, but it still escapes Marinette.

“Pardon?” Hawkmoth says. The emotions intensify and it’s so tempting to just give in, to let Hawkmoth empower her so that she can get vengeance and right the injustice of being treated like a boy-obsessed teen girl…but that’s not right. She doesn’t need vengeance. She doesn’t…

“I said no.” Marinette takes deep breaths, fighting back against the tsunami of emotions rolling through her. “I don’t want your power.”

“Nonsense. You want justice, to right the wrong that was done to you. I can feel it.” Hawkmoth brushes off her denial as easily as Lila had brushed off her feelings, which amplifies the negative emotions but not in a way that’s likely to make Marinette to agree to his power. “In return for this power, Miroir, I ask for –”

“I’m upset about people dismissing me and not listening to me and you do the same thing to me?” Marinette snaps. She clenches her fists, as though this alone can help her fight off Hawkmoth’s influence. “Just because I feel like that doesn’t mean it’s right to act on it! I said no, Hawkmoth! Leave me alone!”

The dizzying surge of negative emotions suddenly dies down. Marinette slumps against the brick wall, taking huge gulps of air to try and steady her whirling head and trembling hands as the realisation that she’d been two seconds from being akumatised crashes down on her.

“Way to go, Marinette!” Tikki crashes into her face to hug her. “You fought Hawkmoth off! You’re amazing!”

“I am?” Marinette lets a smile spread across her face. “I am! I didn’t get akumatised!” Her smile fades slightly. “I was just…he didn’t even listen to me when I said no! And it felt just like when Alya kept reducing my feelings to a crush back when I was in love with Adrien, and like what Lila did before, and I got even angrier but at him.”

“You’re so strong!” Tikki says, then gives Marinette a sly little grin. “And you definitely made Hawkmoth upset by standing up to him.”

Marinette bursts into loud laughter, sliding down to the ground for the second time. Tikki’s joke has banished any lingering negative emotions, instead filling her with giddy relief, and she’s about ready to brush herself off and go find Alya but she gasps as she’s standing up.

“Tikki, do you really think the akuma’s just gone back to Hawkmoth?” she says. “What if it’s looking for someone else to akumatise?”

“It’s possible,” Tikki says. “The akuma may not have even been here for you specifically. All these people in the same place as Chloé and she’s trying to be nice? Hawkmoth might have sent that akuma pre-emptively in case Chloé snaps and upsets someone.”

“I’m not surprised,” Marinette snorts. “If Chloé’s just doing this to impress Adrien and not because she wants to be nice, she’s bound to break eventually. Should I transform in case the akuma finds someone else? Or should I wait?”

“I’m not sure,” Tikki says. “Ladybug’s presence could keep everyone calm, but it could also make them panic at the thought of an akuma being nearby –”

A scream suddenly reaches Marinette’s ears from inside the hotel. She and Tikki exchange a look.

“I guess the akuma already found someone else?” Tikki says.

“I don’t even want to know what Chloé’s done now,” Marinette says. “Tikki, spots on!”

[sansy-fresh]

hey, i've got a joke! slim walks into a bar. portugal walks under it.

There was always something disgustingly wonderful about cracking open his sockets, confused and in pain, a moment of agonizing bliss before he remembered just who he had pissed off the night before, who he’d gotten to beat the everloving shit out of him. It was a game, a fun one at that, poking and prodding, something exhilarating in the way that he would feel a spike of rage, of fury, just before the pain began and everything hazed out between blows and attacks.

When P opened his sockets that morning, feeling the dried mess of what he knew was blood causing him to stick to the sheets- honestly, if they weren’t already browned and stiff in so many places then he may have actually been the slightest bit annoyed at the fact- the pain was welcome, and he allowed himself to simply sit and relish what he fucking deserved, not bothering to look any farther than the fact that it hurt. The memories would come back in time; they’d be hazed and confused but he always, always would remember just what words he said, what buttons he pushed, blackout drunk or not.

Every time it happened, he could feel himself slip away just a little farther, and since no one cared enough to bother to pull him back he only had a few more beatings to take until they had to wipe dust off of sheets that were so stained with blood that they were stiff enough to be cardboard. He sighed, hard, ribs aching  at the motion (bruised, probably, maybe even broken, and wouldn’t that be a damn treat?) as he pushed himself up, cradling his skull in his hand.

“Mornin’, Sunshine!”

P jumped with a curse, falling out of bed and landing in such a way that his vision went black around the edges, pain shooting up his spine. His head snapped around as he checked the room, eyes narrowing with a snarl as his gaze landed on Slim, the other perched happily on a chair with a grin. Before he could say anything, the other was talking.

“Gotta say, I really thought you were done for last night. You got the shit beat out of you!” He seemed almost happy about it, maybe even impressed.

Portugal got up with a groan, struggling to stay standing, sending the other a glare. “Get th’ fuck out.”

Slim shifted in the chair, turning and hooking his knees over the top before letting his head hang back off the bottom. “I dunno what you said to the edgelord to get him to beat you like that, but holy shit it must’ve been bad.”

God, he had no idea what the fuck this guy’s problem was. “If yer smart, you’ll get th’ hell out, boyo.”

“Or what?” Slim grinned, snickering. “You’ll limp over here and insult me to death? Oh, I’m so scared.”

P watched as Slim turned back upright, balancing his elbows on his knees as he cradled his head in his hands, blinking innocently. “The hell do ya want?”

Slim shrugged, grinning, and P watched him for a few more moments before he turned with a growl, limping over to his closet and grabbing the first outfit he saw, making his way out of the room. There was a creak from the chair, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Slim following him, happily looking at his surroundings with his hands in his pockets. He slammed the bathroom door in the other’s face, locking it as he turned to the mirror, barely glancing at his reflection- the glimpse of green was enough to make him look away as quickly as he could- before starting to pull on fresh clothes.

No noise came from the other side of the door, but he wasn’t an idiot, and he knew for a fact that the drugged-up asshole was still standing on the other side. He kicked the stained clothes against the tub, vowing to pick them up later, before he yanked the door open. Sure enough, Slim was leaning against a wall, scrolling through his phone, entirely unconcerned. The other glanced up as he glared, and Slim raised a brow at his expression. “What?”

P sneered. “Sorry to tell ya, but I don’ got any drugs. If ya wanna be a fucking disappointment, then go do it somewhere else.”

Slim laughed. “And miss out on these thrilling conversations? I would never.”

He shoved past him, hand coming up to cradle his ribcage as he made his way into the kitchen. He turned just before Slim followed after him, glaring, and something must have finally gotten through that thick skull of his because he stopped just outside, one leg lifted and eyes wide in shock, before he shrugged, dropping his leg and standing just outside the door frame.

P filled the kettle with water, slamming it down on the stove and swirling around on his heel, hissing. “What.”

Slim shrugged, face expressionless, and for a moment P was almost impressed that he could do something other than smile like an idiot. “You’re a lot more trouble than you’re worth, shorty. Say that you were to take it too far with the wrong person.” Slim lifted up both hands, palms out, grinning. “Not that I give two shits, mind you, but if they did something that they regret then the consequences would be pretty shitty.”

“So what?” P sneered, aware of how tense the atmosphere was becoming. “Please tell me ya aren’t as stupid as ya look ta think that a slap on the wrist’ll make me stop.”

Slim grinned, leaning against the frame. “I came to kill you, actually.”

P took a step back, running into the counter, watching the other grin.

He laughed, face turning to the side before he looked at him from the corner of his sockets. “Calm down, bud. You see, I was watching you sleep- creepy, I know, but whatever- and I got to thinking: ‘Hey, he really likes to piss people off, doesn’t he? I wonder why that is?’”

Slim turned, facing him fully. “Because it’s not like you really fight back to win. So what is it, kid?” He stepped forward, expression quizzically calm, the side of his mouth lifted slightly in a smirk. “Are you kinky, or do you just hate yourself that much?”

P growled, reaching over and grabbing a knife before taking a step forward, anger making him imagine someone slightly shorter, attacking and knowing, knowing that with his injuries it would only take a few well placed hits, and it’s not like Slim didn’t know exactly how to bring someone down. But the other just caught his wrist, grabbing his other arm and lifting him in the air. P shot out his leg, kicking him in the side, but the pain that burned up his bones had to be worse than whatever injury it inflicted on Slim and so he just hung, waiting for the pain to start. Which is why the laugh was so shocking.

He kicked out again, more pain making his body throb. “So what now? Yer gonna try ta make up fer all the times ya just let yer friends suffer while you were off somewhere, so high that ya couldn’t even walk?” Another kick. Slim was frowning. “Ya think that somehow, ya can be the good guy, get rid of past mistakes, like this’ll somehow get them to see ya as anything other than a fucking failure who can’t stay sober fer longer than ten minutes?”

“Jesus.” Slim set him down, wrenching the knife from his hand before raising a brow. “So I guess kinky’s not the answer.”

P yanked himself away, going over to the table, picking up a chair before launching it at the other. Slim yelped when it hit him, the chair breaking into splintered pieces and making him fall back on his ass. “Why won’t ya jus’ leave!?”

“Cause I’m an asshole.” Slim stood up with a groan, brushing himself off. And then he gave P a pointed look. “Cause part of me almost feels sorry for you.”

P glared at him, stalking over to the stove and grabbing the kettle, pouring the water into the cup and dropping a tea bag into it carelessly. He sneered. “Why? ‘Cause I remind ya of yerself?”

“Nope!” Slim said. “Because you remind me of m-” he paused, sockets narrowing, before he clicked his tongue. “Huh. Holy shit.”

“Fuck off.”

Slim grinned at him before he looked down, nudging a piece of the chair with his sneakers. “Heh. Alrighty.” He winked. “I’ll see you around then, ey greenie?”

P growled, turning away. He heard footsteps as the other made his way out, though they stopped just after the creaky board that P knew was just in front of the door. “By the way,” Slim called, boisterous and obnoxious, “there ain’t nothin’ wrong with the color of your magic.”

And then the door clicked shut, washing him in peaceful and lonely silence.

A wonderful fic by the magnificent ollie for you all to enjoy ^^

[wittystiles]

The Agreement || Part Three || Stiles Stilinski

Author: wittystiles

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Stiles goes to surprise reader at work, and the two end up getting a surprise of a different kind.

Warnings: Cursing (its me afterall). Fluff. So much fluff. Sass (again, it’s me).

A/N: Once and again, I have to give thank you credit to my wonderful wifey @ellie-bee242 for helping me with this part. I don’t think I can write anything at this point without her by my side (metaphorically) egging me on. She’s my muse (sort of. God, who do I think I am?). Anyway. This parts disgustingly cute and I hope you enjoy.

Patients were steadily coming in and out of the ER, staff being kept on their toes as they worked to keep everyone happy and keep things moving. (Y/N), however, was falling short. She’d been sick for days, which she chalked up to catching the stomach flu from a patient that she’d been helping around the time she got sick. She was luckily not running a fever as she sat in a chair behind the desk of the nurses station, chewing on a saltine. 

Melissa rounded the desk, giving her a soft smile. “Hey, sweetie. How’re you feeling?” Melissa asked, looking (Y/N) over. (Y/N) shrugged her shoulder, setting the cracker back down in the plastic saltine sleeve.

“I’m feeling alright,” she sat forward and made a face. “Scratch that, I lied. I feel like every time I move I’m going to shoot chunks.” 

Melissa nodded, “go home.” She picked up (Y/N)’s sleeve of crackers, shoving it into her hand. “Go home, drink lots of fluids, and rest. I don’t want to see your butt back here until you’re feeling better. It’d be your luck, you’d get sick suddenly, and puke on a patient.”

(Y/N) widened her eyes, “Melissa! I would never.” She stood from her chair slowly and rubbed her forehead. “It’s just a little stomach flu. I’m fine.” “Yeah, but it’s lasted a good long while. I don’t think that’s what it is anymore, (Y/N). Maybe something you’re eating is messing with you. Do you have something every day?” 

(Y/N) thought for a moment, shaking her head. “Just coffee? Though, I have had that every day for years. It wouldn’t just start to affect me now.” Melissa nodded, furrowing her brows. “What else is wrong?” 

“Just the vomiting, really. And God, even when I drink my weight in coffee, I’m still exhausted. I’ve contemplated taking a shot of adrenaline and just, suffering.”

Melissa gave (Y/N) a shrug, taking her arm while the two walked away from the nurses station towards the nurses locker room. “Could the fatigue be part of your PMS? I know you always get worn down easily when you’re about to drop.”

(Y/N) stopped abruptly, eyes widening. “Oh, fuck.”

“What?” Melissa asked with evident concern in her voice. “Do you need a bucket?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No, I just.. Felt like I was going to, it’s passed. I can get the rest of the way there on my own, Melissa. Thank you for your concern. I’m off tomorrow, right?”

Melissa nodded.

“Perfect, I’ll see you the day after then, hopefully feeling as good as new. And, you know what? Maybe it’s this stupid new popfetti popcorn I’ve been addicted to that’s doing it? It’s probably too sweet for me, and it’s upsetting my stomach and causing me to be sluggish.”

Melissa chuckled, “maybe. I’d stop eating it anyway, sounds like it’s terrible.” (Y/N) shrugged, giving Melissa a small smile before hurrying into the locker room. She took her stethoscope off of her neck, flinging it into her locker the moment she got it open. She was starting to get panicked, her mind running faster than she wanted.

Calm down! (Y/N) ordered herself as she pulled her scrub shirt off over her head. She took a few deep breathes, “don’t get yourself worked up over this. It could just be a bunch of weird coincidences. Don’t go getting your hopes up, (Y/N). You’ve got to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” Stiles asked from behind her. (Y/N) whirled around to face him, clutching her chest in fright.

“Jesus Christ, Stiles! What the fuck are you doing in here? This is the female nurses locker room.” She waved her hand around, indicating the locker room. “Seeing as how you’re not a chick, and you’re not a nurse, you shouldn’t be in here.” She looked down, huffing. “Or at least turn around, I’m not wearing a shirt!” She reached into her locker to grab her regular shirt, holding it against her.

“Oh, would you relax?” Stiles asked, taking a seat on the bench between the lockers. “There’s no one else in here, and I’ve seen you naked before. Should we recount two days ago?” He wriggled his eyebrows at her and she slapped him in the face with her shirt.

“Why are you here, Stiles?” 

“I was going to bring you soup for your stomach. You said you weren’t feeling well yesterday, figured you still weren’t.” 

“I hate soup.” (Y/N) sighed.

“That’s why I said I was going to. Instead I settled on lightly buttered toast, and ramen noodles, cause it’s soup like. Salty as hell, but. I figured you’d be okay with that.”

(Y/N) pulled her shirt on over her head, kicking her work shoes off. “You did not have to do that, Stiles. That was really sweet of you, thank you”

Stiles gave her his signature smug smile, “you’re welcome. Gotta take care of my future baby mama, don’t I?”

“And you ruined it. You’re excellent at that you know? Ruining a sweet moment by opening your stupid mouth. You should write a book, ‘how to kill the mood in 10 words or less’ by Stiles Stilinski.”

“Ouch,” Stiles said, standing up from his seat on the bench. “You can starve now, (Y/N). Last time I try being nice to you.” He began slowly walking back to the door, intending on leaving the locker room.

Smiling, (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders. “Fine by me. I wasn’t gonna eat your gross, probably soggy ramen anyway.”

Stiles scoffed, turning around to look at (Y/N) as she was shimmying her scrub pants off. He took a deep inhale, watching her for a second before his brain caught up. “First of all, (Y/N), my ramen is not anywhere close to soggy. I know how to make it, we’ve had enough fights where you took over cooking them for me to know how you like it. Secondly, you weren’t calling my mouth stupid when it was between your thighs.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to snap a comeback at him, instead going wide eyed, spinning on her heels to the large wash bin sink beside her locker. She gripped the edge, leaned over, and released the contents of her stomach, her throat feeling raw when she was done.

Stiles had quickly crossed the room to hold her hair back as she retched into the sink, his free hand rubbing small circles into her lower back. (Y/N) stayed hunched over the sink for a moment, making sure that she was done for the time being, before standing. Stiles released her hair and reached into her locker, grabbing her water bottle.

“I didn’t know that me talking about eating you out was gonna make you that sick, I’m sorry.” He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck while looking down at his feet.

(Y/N) snorted a laugh, shaking her head at him, taking a few small sips from her water bottle. “It wasn’t your comment, Stiles. You doing that was wonderful, and I’m pleased to know we have a use for your stupid mouth. The puking was all me. I’ve been sick, remember? Welcome to what I’ve been dealing with for days.”

“You seem… fine now? You just look a little sweaty if anything, and like you’re about to pass out.”

(Y/N) shrugged, “thanks?”

Stiles gave her a soft smile, turning the water on to wash the sink out, not wanting the smell to make her sick all over again. “So, you think I’m wonderful, huh?”

(Y/N), having realized her mistake, shook her head adamantly. “No, you’re not. I was just trying to be nice since you had to witness me puking.” She pulled her leggings on before reaching into her locker, quickly finding her toiletries bag. She dug around in it before she found her toothbrush and toothpaste. She wet her toothbrush at the sink and began brushing her teeth, leaning her hip against the sink.

“Why do you think you’re sick? Should I head out and get you something after I get you home? An anti-nausea medicine or something?”

(Y/N) shook her head, spitting into the sink. She rinsed her mouth and toothbrush before shutting the water off. “No, I don’t think that this is anything that simple medicine could fix.”

“Oh?” Stiles took her purse from the locker before moving out of the way for her to shut it, letting her slip her feet into a pair of flip flops before offering her purse out to her. “What do you think it is?” He asked, figuring she’d self diagnosed again like usual.

“I think we’ll talk about it on the way back to my place.” (Y/N) pulled her purse onto her shoulder walking out of the locker room, knowing Stiles would automatically follow her.

(Y/N) walked out of the bathroom in her apartment, wiping at the corners of her mouth with the sleeve of the hoodie she wore. “Would you please not use my jacket as a puke napkin?” Stiles asked, looking over at her. “Feeling okay? You haven’t puked in a bit, I was almost sure you were better.”

(Y/N) ignored him, walking for the front door, slipping her feet back into the flipflops she’d kicked off when she’d gotten home. She grabbed her keys off of the hook beside the door. “You coming?” She asked, holding the door open. Stiles scrambled off of the couch, hurrying for the front door. He went to hook his arm around her shoulders after she locked the door, a bit taken back when she began speed walking for the stairs down.

“Alright,” Stiles said, hurrying after her. He took the stairs two at a time, keeping his hand on the railing to make sure he doesn’t fall. “Is there something in particular that’s lit this fire under your ass, (Y/N)?”

Continuing to ignore him, she reached the first floor, heading straight for the door to leave the apartment building. She threw it open, taking a right when she walked out, hurrying down the sidewalk.

“(Y/N)!” Stiles called, following after her. “Would you mind slowing down? You know for someone who was just throwing up, I would expect you to not move as quickly.” (Y/N) reached the Walgreens walking in as soon as the automatic door allowed her to. Stiles walked in after her, managing to keep easy pace with her now that she slowed down. “(Y/N)! Would you please tell me what the fuck is going on?”

She stopped abruptly in an aisle and he had to keep himself from crashing against her. “You know I hate being ignored, (Y/N). This is honestly about to drive me insane. Would you please ju-”

(Y/N) reached up and grabbed his jaw in her hand, turning his head to look at the shelves in front of them. “Oh.” He nodded, feeling her release his jaw. He looked over the boxes for a moment before actually processing why they were there. “OH!” He shouted, looking over at her. “(Y/N)! You think that-... That you-...”

She nodded, giving him an angry look. “Yes, now would you shut the fuck up? Jesus, you’re being loud right now.”

Stiles grumbled, “sounds like what I have to say to you at night.”

She elbowed him in the ribs, returning her attention to the selection of pregnancy tests. She took her time reading them over, deciding on three different brands. “Is that all?” Stiles asked, looking at the three boxes that (Y/N) had shoved into his arms. “Might as well grab a fourth, why do an uneven number?” He asked, looking up at her.

(Y/N) looked less than amused, “does it matter how many I take, Stiles? Really?”

He shook his head, deciding to keep his mouth shut and just follow her to the register. He set the boxes on the counter, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. “Do you want anything else while we’re here because I don’t think we’ll be leaving again tonight. Maybe more crackers?”

(Y/N) shook her head, “no.” She took the bag from the woman and walked out as soon as Stiles had paid. The two made their way back to (Y/N)’s apartment without speaking to each other, the bag in (Y/N)’s hand felt particularly heavy.

Stiles’ mind was racing at a million miles per minute. He knew that if those little sticks in those unassuming boxes came back positive, his life would be instantaneously changed. He’d go from just being Stiles Stilinski, the exceptional FBI profiler, to Stiles Stilinski the soon-to-be father.

He began thinking about how he would be connected to (Y/N) forever after this, how she was forever going to go from just being his best friend to being the mother of his child. He concerned himself with if he would be a good father, if the two of them were making a huge mistake. If (Y/N) would back out, if she would realize that this idea was absolutely insane, if she would want an abortion. He wouldn’t fight her on that, it was her body that would be carrying their child after all, but -

Stiles snapped out of his thoughts when she cursed loudly, fiddling with the keys in her hand. Stiles took her hand in his, giving her a reassuring smile before finding her house key, unlocking her front door. He could practically see the anxiety rolling off of her in waves. The two entered the apartment, and she rushed straight for the bathroom. “Puking?” Stiles called out, ready to offer to hold her hair or get her a glass of water.

She shook her head, not bothering to respond as she slammed the door behind her. Stiles nodded, biting on his lips. “Right.” He took a seat on the couch, resting his elbows on his thighs and his chin on his hand, his knees bouncing nervously. He looked back at the bathroom and felt his stomach do a flip, considering if maybe he was going to be sick instead of (Y/N).

The bathroom door opened and Stiles shot to his feet, feeling like he suddenly couldn’t breathe. He took a few shallow breaths, giving her his attention. “So,” Stiles prompted, gripping his fist with his other hand. “What did they say?”

She held up her phone, “they said wait five minutes for the piss to marinate or something so. We’ll find out in roughly four minutes.”

Stiles nodded, a lump in his throat big enough to choke him. The two sat together on the couch, neither speaking, staring straight ahead at the black television screen. When (Y/N)’s phone went off the pair shot to their feet, eyes wide and hearts pounding. “I guess that’s my cue..” (Y/N) indicated towards the bathroom with her thumb, clearing her throat. “I’ll be right back.”

Stiles nodded, not wanting to speak at this point. (Y/N) bit on her lips, walking off to the bathroom. Stiles began pacing around her living room, his heart pounding in his ears. He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. He’d been through so much, more than any twenty something should ever have witnessed. But this. The anticipation of finding out if (Y/N) was pregnant or not. This might have been the scariest thing he’d ever experienced.

He stopped pacing the second he heard the bathroom door open, watching (Y/N) walk out with her head hung low. His heart dropped to his knees, he felt like it stopped. “(Y/N)…” He whispered, quickly making his way over to her.

(Y/N) wound her arms around his ribs, resting her head against his chest. He could feel a spot of wetness bloom against his chest where her cheek rest. He wrapped his arms around her, beginning to rub her back gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Please, stop crying. I - I don’t know what to say. Fuck, I’m sorry. We don’t have to keep trying. I don’t want you having to go through this again.” Stiles assured her, assuming that the test had come back negative.

(Y/N) kept her cheek pressed against his chest, unable to speak yet, tears still pouring down her cheeks.

“You’re gonna be okay, (Y/N).” Stiles said as way of reassurance. “I know that you wanted this, or, fuck I hope you wanted to be pregnant because if not that would have just been a lot of trying without you mentioning it wasn’t what you wanted. However, it’s okay. So it didn’t happen. It’s cool, it’s fine. We could I dunno, we could keep trying, it’s not like it isn’t fun. Or, I know you’re not a fan but… Doctors really do know a lot, you know? And I mean. Yeah it’s a turkey baster, but it’s got better chances doesn’t it? I’m sure there’s more of an assuran-” He stopped talking, taking a seat on the couch, feeling like he was about to have a panic attack. His heart was back to pounding. He didn’t realize how badly he had actually wanted this baby. How much he had actually thought about it. How badly he wanted to raise his own child, watch it grow. And he thought, God, he thought he was so fucking close. He could practically see his son or daughter staring up at him. Now, that future. That image he had of his happy family was wiped away from him. In the matter of four, eternally long minutes.

(Y/N) looked down at him in confusion, “Stiles…” She held out a test, waiting for him to take it before wrapping her arms around herself. Stiles took a deep breath, turning the stick over to look at the little window, preparing himself mentally for the new wave of disappointment.

One pink line, standing boldly out against the white background.

And another.

He looked from the lines up to (Y/N) before looking back at them, trying to make sure he had interpreted them right. “(Y/N),” he held the test up a bit. “(Y/N), please. I’m begging you. Please tell me this is what I think it is. Please tell me this is positive. God, please let this be positive.”

(Y/N) nodded, biting on her lips to keep from beaming too bright of a smile, “that one and the two others on the counter in the bathroom.”

Stiles felt his eyes well, sitting up on the couch to be able to reach out and grab her, pulling her against him, pressing his face against her stomach. Stiles let out a breathy laugh, kissing her stomach softly, his fingers splayed on her back, holding her as close to him as he could. “I can’t - I don’t -.” He closed his mouth, words failing him. (Y/N) began combing her fingers through his hair, letting him hold her to him. In that moment, (Y/N) realized there wasn’t anyone else she’d rather share this with. Stiles pressed another kiss to her stomach, and she felt a wider smile spread across her lips.

“God, you’re actually pregnant.” Stiles said, but it felt more like a question. “God, you’re pregnant. We did it.. Thank you.” He stood then, and (Y/N) felt what she figured was her heart skipping a beat when she saw the smile on Stiles’ face. In all of the years she had known him, she had never seen him look happier.

“I am.” She assured him, returning his smile.

“I just -, I…” Stiles reached out, cupping (Y/N)’s cheeks in his hands, pulling her into a kiss. (Y/N) hesitated for a moment before reaching up, winding her arms around Stiles’ neck, pressing her body against his. He moved his hands from her cheeks to her hips, gripping them tight before his hands moved to her back, pressing her tighter against him.

(Y/N) broke the kiss for a breath, leaning back a little to look at him. “Thank you, Stiles.”

“No,” he shook his head. “Thank you, (Y/N). For being my best friend, for accepting this crazy agreement, and for not backing out.”

(Y/N) smiled, “we’re in this for the long haul, punk.”

Stiles returned her smile warmly, “so. You’re happy, with this? With being pregnant? It’s not too late, you know…”

(Y/N) let go of Stiles, shaking her head. “Stiles, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this baby with you. I’m in if you’re in. Forever.”

Stiles held his pinky out to her, “forever.”

She looked at his pinky, rolling her eyes a little. “Stiles, come on. We’re not kids anymore. I’m carrying one, but that doesn’t mean I’ve regressed to being fifteen. We don’t make pinky promises anymore.” Stiles nearly pouted, keeping his pinky up. “Come on, (Y/N). What’s it going to hurt? You used to do them all of the time with me in high school, and neither of us have broken one since. Might as well make another one regarding our baby.”

(Y/N) sighed, deciding to acquiesce.

The two locked pinkies, each kissing their thumbs to seal the promise.

~

Tags: @ellie-bee242, @redstringlovers, @lovefilledtragedy, @behind-my-hazeleyes27, @cuillere, @sumcp, @daddyxraeken

If you’d like to be tagged please let me know. (-:

[myaekingheart]

I’ve just gotta vent for a second because there are a lot of nasty thoughts in my head right now and I’ve gotta purge them. 

For some god awful reason I have just been absolutely sucker punched tonight with this awful, heavy depression about my social life and I hate it. Like I am suddenly so depressed about the fact that I have practically no friends, and this includes online, too. Like I have friends online, yeah, but it feels like I don’t have anyone who is happy to see me online every day. I don’t really hold consistent conversations with anyone. It’s like I kind of just scream out into the void and it just lays there without any response or meaning. I feel distant and mute and like I don’t contribute anything valuable to any fandom I’m in. Like I’m just creating shit that nobody will ever give a fuck about. It makes me happy, sure, but sometimes it feels like no one else seems to care. I hyperfixate on things that nobody else cares about, I can’t hold valuable conversations with anyone. I can’t maintain any friendships. I just kind of exist with no purpose, no meaning, I don’t really contribute anything worthwhile to the world. I don’t really feel like I fit into any fandom circles of friends, like either I have none or I feel like I don’t belong or something, and then I see these groups of people online who are all happy and enthused about their fandoms and they get asks about the shit they create, people draw their OCs and all of their OCs are like friends and having a great time together and shit. Meanwhile my OCs are my fucking friends. I live my social life vicariously through the imaginary people in my head because sometimes it just feels like in real life, I have fucking no one. And that hurts. I don’t think I appreciated my friend group in high school enough because yeah, as a group we were probably doomed from the start but like...I look back at the good times we had and fuck do I miss that. I miss having people who cared about me and looked forward to seeing me every day and supported my obsessions and even engaged in them with me and shit. I don’t know, man, it’s just one of those big sad nights where I feel such a heavy fucking weight deep in the pit of my chest and it’s borderline unbearable and I almost want to just rip myself open again just to punish myself for being so fucking stupid because I feel like there’s no solid reason I should feel like this in the first place despite knowing full well that I isolate myself and can’t maintain a friendship or even a goddamn fucking conversation to save my fucking life but I still feel stupid about it because how dare I want friends? How dare I, the social vampire, want to be cared about? Blasphemy!!! I don’t deserve it!! What I deserve is pain and suffering and loneliness!!! Because I am a piece of shit human being!!! And then that all just makes it feel that much worse, like god fucking dammit I am so motherfucking dysfunctional like no fucking wonder I have no goddamn friends because how the fuck could anyone manage to care about something so problematic and broken and disgustingly weird? It’s implausible! Nobody should ever care about this fucking mess, honestly, like I’m just too much of a burden on anyone; no one needs that added stress in their lives, you know? No one needs my added stress. No one needs me. There’s really just no point in my presence, maybe even existence, I don’t know. Nothing I do matters, and no one really cares. I was just never destined to mean anything, or have any friends, or something, I guess. Fuck, I sound so goddamn pathetic. Fuck. 

[writing-wyns]

seven years

I had an idea, and then I did the idea. And then it spiraled out of control. 

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!!! Here’s some pointless fluff featuring your fave boys except they’re like almost 30 years old and still gross as ever. 

Enjoy!

AO3

Bokuto swears that there is something definitely up about sci-fi movies. Not a bad something, but it whooshes around in his stomach, making it twist and knot and he wants the feeling gone. It’s makes him wiggle in his spot on the couch like he’s got a bad case of the ants in the pants and for all he knows, maybe he does. He’s happy, for sure, he’s happy because Kuroo is there, sitting on his feet like he always does and looks damn good in their home: the lights from the TV are soft on his form, contrasting the nightfall shadows, it highlights his angled nose and dyes his already dark hair with shades of pink and red.

His hands are clammy and he touches his fingers to the palms before wiping them on his tshirt with a look of mild disgust. It’s not a bad feeling he has, he knows this for a fact, but he’s positive his stomach just folded in on itself, and that is definitely not good. It’s when he wiggles his toes, where they’re wedged under Kuroo��s ass does he realize just what in the hell is up.

“What are you smiling for?” Kuroo asks, looking at him now. His eyes are squinted because of how dark it is, but the TV flashes onto his face for a quick second and all Bokuto can see is pure joy.

“I’m not smiling,” Bokuto says, but he knows it’s a lie as soon as he says it because his cheeks burn, like he’s been smiling all this time, and - holy hell - he has been.

Kuroo is smiling too now, it grows slowly, creeping up on his face like the morning’s sunrise. “Yes you are,” he singsongs.

He’s giggling -giggling of all things - like a fucking school girl, and he throws his head back on the armrest of the couch, slaps his hands over his face as a cover, and mumbles out around a laugh, “I am definitely not smiling.”

“You are clearly smiling you goober,” Kuroo’s laughing too now. Bokuto’s thinks they’ve caught some weird new disease. Where the symptoms include: spontaneous smiling, random outbursts of laughing, and in severe cases - like himself - not being able to look your boyfriend in the eye. “C’mon Kou, spill the beans,” Kuroo says, his hands are on Bokuto’s knees now and he’s shaking them, as if he could shake an answer right out of him.

“I’m not telling.” His cheeks ache now, and he’s one hundred percent positive that if you looked up ‘face splitting grin’ in the dictionary it would be a picture of him at that exact moment.

Bokuto can feel Kuroo crawl up his body, laying on top of him til they’re face to face, the only thing blocking them from looking at each other is the permanent fixture of his hands on his own face.

“I can’t believe you’re really gonna leave me hanging like this,” Kuroo says to his hands. Bokuto can feel him tug at his wrists and he presses his fingers to his face in resistance. “It can’t be that bad can it?”

Bokuto wants to scream. His heart is in his stomach, or maybe his stomach is at maximum whoosh, maybe his whole entire organ system has exploded, or - or something. “It really is that bad,” he mutters into his hands, “It is so so bad.”

“Like on a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?”

“Thirteen.”

Kuroo is laughing so hard at the admission that Bokuto can barely make out the “oh my god” he manages to choke out. It’s a pretty opportune time to sneak a peek at the man above him, Bokuto thinks, but dear god was he wrong,; because Kuroo’s face is bright and grinning, beaming that lopsided grin he does when he just can’t help himself. Where his eyes crinkle at the ends, and his teeth show, and his nose scrunches up ever so slightly; and Bokuto doesn’t know what the fuck his organs are doing, but it is so goddamn painful that all he can do is let out the weakest of groans as he slides his body even further across the armrest and off the couch.

Kuroo slides down his body with the movement, his chin coming to a rest on Bokuto’s chest, nothing but amusement in his voice when he asks, “What now?”

Bokuto huffs out a breath, his hands haven’t left his face for a single moment, and presses his fingers even harder to his skin, desperately trying to hide that stupid smile that just won’t go away. “You promise you won’t laugh?”

“I will not make a single sound,” Kuroo promises.

“Okay?” Bokuto breathes out the question to himself, and he hears Kuroo echo the word. He takes in a deep breath, filling his lungs, lets it go all in one breath, and says, “I like you so much, like a whole lot, and I am physically dying.”

There’s one whole second of silence til Bokuto tentatively moves his hands away from his face and chances a look at Kuroo, his hand flying back up immediately at the sight.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

Kuroo’s lips are pressed so thin, mouth twisted off to the side, that he can barely manage an, “I’m not!” without completely losing it.

“You’re smiling,” Bokuto accuses.

Kuroo takes a deep breath, a sad attempt to smother the bubbles of laughter that are threatening to escape. “You didn’t say I couldn’t smile.”

Another pained groan makes its way out, and Bokuto’s face is so flushed and red he doesn’t think he’ll ever return to his normal state. “I can hear you laughing you know,” if Kuroo wasn’t laying on top of him, Bokuto would have kicked him. Off the couch, preferably.

“We’re already dating,” Kuroo can barely talk he’s laughing so hard, “for years!”

“I knoooooow,” he says dragging the word out like it hurts.

“I can not believe I am being confessed to seven years into a relationship,” Bokuto interjects with a ‘shut up’ but it doesn’t look like Kuroo wants to let this one go anytime soon. “And you’re embarrassed? Gotta admit it, that’s my favorite part.”

“I take it back, I don’t like you at all. You’re the worst.”

Kuroo wiggles back up, like a giggling little snake on a mission, til he’s right in Bokuto’s face, all smug smiles. “Seven years, and you ‘like’ me? Honestly Kou, I’m a little insulted.”

Bokuto lets his head fall back against the armrest, muttering “when will you stop?” under his breath, Kuroo ignoring his obvious suffering all the while.

“I mean, you’d think after seven fucking years, someone would be, oh I don’t know, in love? Is that what you meant? Don’t tell me you were too embarrassed to tell me you love me? I won’t judge you, ya know, I’m pretty irresistible.”

“That’s it!” And Bokuto is slapping a hand over his mouth because obviously Kuroo does not know how to shut up on his own. “What can I do to make you drop this?”

Kuroo pries the hand off his face, fixing Bokuto with a look that speaks trouble.

“Say it,” Kuroo demands, like he’s got Bokuto right where he wants him.

“Say what?

“Tell me you love me and I won’t mention any of this.”

Bokuto is trying his best to glare at him but he must be doing an awful job because the smile that was already on Kuroo’s face only grows bigger. He slaps a hand over his lips again, but he can feel the upward tilt of his lips in that signature grin of his, and if that wasn’t already enough, Kuroo had taken to wiggling his eyebrows. And it is both the worst and the cutest thing Bokuto has ever witnessed in his life.

I’m a goner, Bokuto thinks. He has died and gone to heaven because of this man, he’s been resurrected and only to die again because of him and he’ll do it a thousand times over. It’s something he knows for a fact, something that is indisputable, and it grinds his weak, fragile heart into a pulp. A small little pulp because the world’s biggest idiot is lying on top of him with a smile that has reached his eyes, a pulp because it’s been seven goddamn years and he’s still not over it.

And he never will be.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he moves the hand from Kuroo’s mouth to his cheek, cupping it gently, thumb stroking in small circles. There is nothing special about the way Kuroo looks in that moment, there’s a day old beard on his jaw, his age has long since started to show, and he’s wearing that same old ratty tshirt from college, and yet - Bokuto is positively melting at the sight. “Kuroo Tetsurou, I am positively and absolutely head over heels and disgustingly in love with you.”

“Disgustingly?” Kuroo asks, his own personal way of trying to keep cool.

“Disgustingly.” He affirms, and Kuroo is nuzzling his cheek into his hand at the word.

The happiest little sound filters out of him, bubbling over til it fills the entire room. Its contagious and Bokuto can’t stop himself from laughing too. “Lucky for you,” he says, scooching closer and closer, their eyes crossing, “I too am positively and absolutely head over heels and disgustingly in love with you.”

They’re giggling way too much to kiss properly, like a couple still stuck in their honeymoon phase, and maybe they are. Maybe they never learned how not to be in the honeymoon phase, still caught up in the whirlwind of crushes turned first dates and tentative kisses on their parent’s doorstep.

It’s been seven years, still stuck in their honeymoon phase, and Kuroo is smiling way too much when he tries to kiss him, his lips instead finding the bridge of Bokuto’s nose and it only makes them laugh even more. He is content and pleased and thrumming like he’s on cloud nine itself with Kuroo peppering kisses all over his face, their laughter never coming to an end.

“Seven years?” He says, kissing Bokuto on the cheek and snorting.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” And Bokuto is squealing, pushing his face away but it’s been long seven years and he couldn’t be any happier if he tried.

[84reedsy]

Complaining Cabin Christmas Special

Sorry! It’s a bit late, but @jessicamoreno62 and I were just having too much fun writing it.

Rating: M

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE WON’T HAVE THE CHEESE FOR ASPARAGUS CASSEROLE??” Henley’s eyes were wide and pleading as she stared Bam down in the toasty trapper shack.

Bam looked up over the rim of his glasses, marking his place in the book he was attempting to read. His attempt was being sabotaged by his fiance's disbelief that Christmas here was going to be drastically different than what she was accustomed to in the midwest.

“Henley, my sweet woman,” Bam tried sugar-coating the news, “How often have we ever had cheese just lying around. We’ll make due, we always have plenty to eat and whatever you decide to make will be delicious.”

“Don’t be a condescending jerk about it…” Henley warned,  displeased with being spoken to like an infant, “I am more than happy to assimilate into your traditions...this is your all’s home after all...but I just want one...ONE thing and you’re telling me I can’t have it.” She crossed her arms, fighting her lower lip threatening to pout out any moment.

Bam sighed folding the page and closing the book, admitting defeat to a quiet afternoon of reading. “From what you said it sounds like we’ve got everything else you need, are you sure this one, tiiiiny ingredient is so crucial?” He asked.

“But...but Bam...it’s cheeeeeeese.” She sank to her knees, her head falling back and he arms dangling down now at her sides. Bam had to stifle his chuckle, but a smirk still played on his lips. She raised her head enough to meet his eyes, “Don’t say it...don’t you dare say it….” She warned, “You can’t Complaining Cabin me...it’s Christmastime....” But it was almost another whine out of her.

“I’m not going to ask you to go there.” He had to laugh now, rolling across his lips in a deep, breathy laugh. He moved his book from his lap, patting his thighs, beckoning her over, “I know this is your first Christmas so far away from home,” holding her in his lap, “I really want this to be a good holiday for you.” He tucked some hair behind her ear, “Try and work with me...just a little?” He asked, his face hopeful.

Henley blew a breath out. “Fiiiiiiiine.” her head laid on his shoulder, submitting to him.

“That’s my girl,” his hand slowly snaked under the hem of her shirt, “Now let me show you your reward for compromising.”

=========================================================

“But, I want regular ornaments, not your gun trash!” Kacey whined, as Matt brought in a box of the decorations he’d made.

“Gun trash? Girl, this are authentic bush tree hangers! Just think, how the lights will shine off the metal casings?” he was trying to stay positive. He and Bam had discussed how they were going to try extraneously to remain positive through Kacey and Henley’s first Christmas in Alaska.

“I want little Santa’s and snowmen and reindeer…” She looked longingly at their fresh cut tree, bathed in white lights, just waited to be decorated. Matt smiled to himself.

“Well the reindeer is taken care of, deer roast is on the menu, hahaHA!” Matt joked, nudging her shoulder. She managed a small smile, picking up a handful of the spent rifle casings and started hanging them on various branches. She had to admit they didn’t look bad, and the brass did reflect the lights nicely, but it still wasn’t the same.

“Maybe we can put up a city tree in the Complaining Cabin…” Matt joked, holding up his hands when Kacey shot him a look, “Easy girl, I’m just playing. It’s Christmas, I want you here with me, not in some tiny, stuffy ‘ol cabin.”

“I haven’t even gotten to town to get you a present.” She set on the edge of the bed looking at the bare floor beneath the tree’s boughs.

“We don’t need to go to town to get me a present. We usually just make something. We go out and see what inspires us. You could get me a dead fish from the shore and I’d love it.” He sat next to her, kissing her forehead.

“A dead fish….A dead FISH, Matt? What in the world would you do with a dead fish?” Kacey looked at him confused, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Well, they make great fertilizer, would be a great thing to have to start a garden, a nice pile of healthy dirt….I could make jewelry from the bones. I could terrify the crap out of Noah with the eyeballs...the possibilities are endless!” Matt laughed at the end, squeezing Kacey to his side. Kacey couldn’t help but grin herself at his suggestions.

“I love you Matt but if you give me a dead fish for Christmas I might cry” Kacey looked pleadingly into Matt's eyes.

“Don't worry, I've got something planned you're going to love” he said tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. He placed light kisses from her cheek up to her ear. Just as he ran his hand up her thigh there was a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Matt called out irritated.

Henley took that as a welcome and let herself in slamming the door behind her.

“Well” she said raising her arms up in the air, “have you heard the news? NO CHEESE!” she exaggerated the words as she yelled them out.

Kacey sat for a moment trying to catch up with what Henley was so upset about. Matt on the other hand caught on quickly and decided to escape while he could.

“I gotta..I gotta..go do something” he said kissing Kacey quickly on the cheek and bolting out the front door.

“No cheese?” Kacey asked walking over to the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, no cheese!” Henley said slouching down into a chair at the small table. “How am I supposed to make casserole with no flipping cheese?”

“Crap if I know!” Kacey said shocked by the realization of the lack of dairy products.

“You want to hear something really bad?” Kacey asked looking Henley dead in the eyes.

“Oh no what?” Henley asked afraid to hear what other civilized convenience they were going to have to spend the holidays without.

“I volunteered to bring the corn for the Christmas dinner. So here I am with 5 cans of corn and no microwave to heat it up!” Kacey said her lips pressed together, arms crossed.

Henley shook her head in disbelief. She tilted her head as something in the room caught her attention.

“Um Kacey, what the hell is that hanging off your tree?” She pointed at the shining brass.

“Oh that! That Henley is what you call ‘homemade’ Christmas ornaments.” Kacey said with exaggerating air quotes.

Before she could respond Bam opened the door peeking his head in.

“Ladies, would you please step outside we have a little surprise for you” he asked flashing a charming smile.

“Unless it's a cooler of cheese I'm not interested” Henley said propping her feet up on the chair across from her.

“Henley dear, would you please just come outside?” He asked again still disgustingly sweet, but his teeth now slightly gritted together.

“No cheese, no deal” Henley said examining her fingernails refusing to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, go tell your brother that unless he has some magical way to heat up this corn I'm not stepping foot outside” Kacey chimed in.

“Alright, you wanna play it like this then that's how we'll do it!” He said slamming the door behind him.

“So much for that Christmas spirit.” Henley muttered, crossing her arms. She sighed, groaning at the end, “Are we...Are we being too hard on them?”

Kacey looked contemplative, but didn’t answer right away.

“I mean...obviously right this minute they are out there trying something that they at least think we’ll like.” Henley bit her lip, starting to feel guilty for being so abrasive with Bam’s face looking as excited as it did. It’d taken her no time to erase that excitement from his features.

“I guess...maybe a little. The holiday is about being selfless, isn’t it...Ugh, we are like, the worst grinches ever.” Kacey stood in front of the tree, lightly flicking one of the casings so it swayed on its branch.

“We should go decorate the Complaining Cabin like the Grinch’s cave. “ Henley joked, “and put a big sign on the front. ‘Bah Humbug!’ “. She couldn’t help but giggle at the thought.

“And we could get some of those lawn reindeer but stick arrows in them so it looks like we shot them out of the sky!” Kacey joked back, the two now in a giggling fit imaging the plastic deer strewn about  in the snow on their sides and a plastic Santa nearby looking horrified at the carnage.

“So what are we going to do? Do we want keep the grinchyness alive or should we cave?” Henley asked, her laugh subsiding. Kacey glanced out the window, only able to see Matt and Bam’s backs facing her.

“Probably give in. They do love us, don’t they?” Kacey leaned on the window sill, her eyes slowly falling to admire Matt’s backside in his jeans.

“Yeah, they keep saying that anyway. Though my money's on them just trying to get lucky most of the time.” Henley teased, “But Matt did go get you that tree...when he has never had one in here before.”

“And Bam let you decorate his rustic trapper shack with sparkly, shiny things and let you listen to endless hours of Christmas music….without complaining.” Kacey chimed in.

Henley hung her head in defeat with an exasperated sigh. “I just can’t believe I didn’t sneak cheese by in the last run. It would have kept in the snow.”

Kacey had to laugh again. “You and your damn cheese…I’m wondering how I’m going to cook this corn. I don’t think it’s going to heat well if I just sit on it.”

Henley looked thoughtful for a moment. “What if I brought you one of my pots, we can put some snow in it to melt and see if it boils on top of the woodstove? I bet it’ll get it plenty hot.” She suggested, walking to the stove and hovering her hand over the top of it, feeling a fairly strong radiant heat.

Kacey shrugged. “Yeah...worth a shot...that’d probably work.”

“I’ll even go sneak you some butter and salt at the main house later.” Henley offered, “Merry Christmas to you.” She joked again. “Should we go let them off the hook or make them suffer some more?”

They didn’t have a chance to mull it over as there was another set of raps at the door. Slowly it opened and Bam peeked his head in again, much less cheery this time, but still hopefulness shined in his eyes.

“Will you PLEASE come out so we can show you your surprise?” he looked like he didn’t really expect them to have changed their attitudes, so he was pleasantly surprised when after a quick glance at each other, they both nodded.

They picked up their coats and hats and slipped their boots on heading out the door. The cold air hitting them like a block of ice making them shiver.

“This better be worth it” Kacey mumbled under her breath.

“Remember, try to look happy” Henley said nudging her with her elbow.

They plastered smiles across their faces and stepped farther out into the snow. But their smiles quickly faded into looks of confusion.

“Wait..where are they?” Kacey asked looking around.

“I have no idea” Henley replied spinning around in a complete circle scanning the area for Bam and Matt.

“What is that wall over there?” Kacey asked pointing at a mound of snow that had clearly been made by someone.

“I don't know but there's another one” Henley nodded her head towards another snow pile a few feet across from the other.

Henley and Kacey cautiously walked towards the walls when out of nowhere something smacked Kacey hard on her shoulder followed by Matt's loud laughter.

“What the hell was that!?” Kacey yelled out.

Henley looked from Kacey's snow covered shoulder to the two pair of eyes peeking up from behind one of the walls. Her eyes narrowed as they locked onto Bam's beaming from behind the snow fort.

“If you know what is good for you” she yelled pointing a finger at him, “you better not even think about it!”

No sooner had the words left her mouth  a giant cold ball of snow connected with her leg. Bam stood up from behind the wall his arms raised in the air, another snowball in his hand.

“What are you going to do about it?” He asked laughing.

“Bam! You son of a” before she could finish he had tossed the other snowball hitting her cheek. She stood shocked, stunned by the cold stinging her face.

Kacey rushed over trying to help brush the snow from her face.

“Why are you doing this to us?” She yelled out.

Matt stood pitching another snowball at her hitting her back. “It's a snowball fight!” He yelled arms raised in the air like a viking preparing for war. “You ladies might want to get behind your fort at some point” he said pointing towards the other wall.

The girls scrambled trying to run for cover making it halfway to safety before they slipped on a piece of ice. Grabbing each other for balance they both crashed to the ground. Matt and Bam taking advantage of the opportunity pelting them relentlessly with snowballs. They made it to their knees crawling the last few inches all the while screaming for the guys to stop.

“I'm going to kill them both!” Henley said trying to catch her breath as they hid behind the cover of their wall.

“Aww look” Kacey said pointing, “they made us a pile of snowballs.”

“Don't fall for it Kace!” Henley said picking up one of the snowballs. She peeked over the wall spotting the top of Bam's head poking over the top of their fort. She raised up taking aim and chucked the snow. It hit directly on his head causing him to duck and yell out all at once.

“God that felt so good!” Henley yelled.

Kacey laughed picking up her own snowball and cautiously glimpsed over to take aim. Just as she raised up to throw it Matt rose throwing  one right after the other at her, all of them hitting their target.

“Dammit!” Kacey yelled. “We have to come up with a plan.”

“Surrender!” Bam yelled out into the cold air.

“Never!” Henley screamed. “Ok, I have a plan” she whispered to Kacey. “You gotta take one for the team!”

“What?” Kacey asked slightly afraid to hear what Henley had planned.

A few minutes went by and when Bam and Matt hadn't received any return fire they called out to the girls.

“Are you ready to give up?” Matt yelled.

Henley nudged Kacey signaling her que to go. She slowly raised up holding a cold ball of snow in her hand. She aimed setting her sights on Matt and just as they had planned he threw one hitting her in the face. She dramatically fell to the ground holding her eye. She cried out rolling over and over crying that she was in excruciating pain.

Matt and Bam both dropped the snow in their hands and came rushing over to check on her. As Matt crouched down apologizing and trying to move her hand to see the damage to her eye Henley rose up hands full and began pounding the guys with snowballs.

“What the hell Henley!” Bam yelled trying to protect himself with his arms.

Just then Kacey picked herself up off the ground laughing hard at the sight of the guys dodging the snow.

“Ha!! We got you!!” She called out laughing. She ran to Henley's side helping her toss the snowballs at them.

“Surrender!” They both yelled out at the same time laughing to hard to even see where they were throwing at this point.

“Never!” Bam and Matt yelled charging at the girls.

The next thing Henley knew is that she was tackled into their fort wall, it crumbling slowly beneath the weight of both of them. She couldn’t help but giggle as they toppled through it, sliding a bit on the snow as they landed. She looked up, pinned underneath Bam’s body. His hair had bits of snow trapped in his curls and even a little in his beard. She reached up, grabbing the bit of snow in his beard between her teeth, swallowing it.

“Girl, just what do you think you are doing?” Bam said with a half-cocked grin.

“Fresh snow….is delicious.” She smirked back at him. Bam shook his head, his grin growing slightly.

“Did you like your surprise?” He slid off, lying on his side next to her.

“Did I like your excuse to assault me with this god forsaken stuff??” picking a few snow clods from his hair, “ I loved it.” She admitted, “But my fingers are freeeeezing now. Let’s go inside and get warm.”

========================================

Kacey squealed as Matt charged her, zigzagging through the trees to keep him at bay. With only two snowballs, one in each hand, she conserved her ammunition. Matt’s laugh echoing through the air let her know how fast he was closing in. A glance behind her make her pick up the pace seeing him closing in quickly.

Making a hard left, she ducked behind a tree. Matt passed looking in every direction, seeing her just a split second before one of her snowballs connected in his face. It exploded upon impact, the ensuing halo of ice particles giving her a chance to get away as she giggled herself.

“Oh, that’s it! I’m really gonna get you now!” Matt warned, his laugh more sinister.

The cold wind whipped across her cheeks as she ran even faster through the snowy woods. Just as the middle of Browntown peeped through an opening in the woods. She felt a hand around her arm and was spun around. Before she knew it, she was smashing the last snowball in Matt’s face again, rubbing it into his stubbly beard with her gloved hand. She couldn’t help but laugh at his face, tinged red from the cold.

“That’s about enough of that. “ He held her close, shaking the snow off his face, “Didja have fun?” He smile was still there, but his voice was slightly softer, his eyes momentarily looking at her lips, before his gaze connected with hers.

“I did...even though typically I despise this stuff, I suppose it can be fun.” She lay her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the bit of warmth that radiated from him. “But I’m starting to get a little chilled. Why don’t you warm me up a bit?” She said, though not waiting for him as she pressed her lips lightly to his.

Matt moaned into her lips, his eyes momentarily diverted as he saw the Complaining Cabin close by.

“I have an idea…” He laughed impishly, taking her hand and leading her to the small structure.

“What have I complained about enough for this?” Kacey asked confused.

“No, not that...we’ll warm up in here faster.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, pulling her into the building. He stoked the woodstove quickly, the smaller space heating up in no time. But they barely waited for the chill in the air to dissipate before coats and clothing were littering the floor.

Matt kissed every inch of her skin as he revealed it, his hands exploring her, making a heat between her legs radiate throughout her entire body. Every touch of his fingers, his hands, his lips, his tongue made her forget the cold outside.

WIth nothing but skin between them, he sat on the couch, pulling her down to straddle him.

“My beautiful little snow bunny….” He slid his hands down her shoulders to her back, his fingertips squeezing as she sank down on him. His head fell back, groaning, the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin. His hands slid to her backside as she moved on him, her own whimpers escaping. His hand smacking her backside lightly, “Good little snowbunny…”

She laughed a little, tilting his head so he was looking directly at her.

“Would you just hush it and make love to me already?!”

“Yes, ma’am…” a chuckled growled in his throat as he flipped her on her back, his mouth claiming hers as he moved inside her.

_------------------------------------

Bam grabbed Henley's hands pulling her up to her feet. He gently brushed the snow off of her paying extra attention to her backside.

“Bam, I don't think I have that much snow on my ass” Henley laughed.

“I know, I just like smacking it!” He smiled proudly at her.

She rolled her eyes at him tugging on his jacket “let's go!”

They made their way back to their warm cabin. The fire Bam had made earlier that day had dwindled down and was now just a blanket of tiny embers flickering in the wood stove but it was still warmer than outside. It only took him a few minutes to get a hot fire going again and he quickly turned his attention back to Henley.

“Let's get you warmed up” he said rubbing her red hands between his.

She smiled up at him. The way he looked at her made her heart race. He leaned forward kissing her sweetly. His warm breath instantly warming her chilled lips. His lips traveled down her cheek making their way to her neck. As his teeth grazed across her skin it sent a chill through her body.

Their clothes were scattered across the cabin as Bam laid Henley down onto the bed. His hands roamed her body as he kneeled between her legs. He leaned forward gently kissing her stomach then his tongue began making lazy circles up her body. His lips glided up her sides, his fingers lightly grazing right behind them. Henley was a trembling mess.

“Are you warm yet?” His voice rumbled as he reached her ear nipping at it with his teeth.

Henley shook her head “not yet” she managed to mumble out.

“How about now?” He hissed as he slid himself into her.

Henley's eyes closed as a gasp escaped her lips. The friction from their bodies immediately warming them both.

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

Once sufficiently warmed up, the couples regrouped themselves and headed to the big house once the light in the sky became dusky. This time of year it wasn’t that late when it happened, but regardless, everyone was hungry and starting to feel in more of a festive mood. The two couples met up in the center of Brown Town before heading to the big house together.

Inside was cheerful and boisterous. The decor while rustic, was still extremely christmas-y. Henley and Kacey couldn’t help but feel perfectly at home here. Ami hugged everyone as they entered, telling Kacey and Henley where to set their dishes on a counter already overflowing with food. Kacey plopped the corn down in the center, Henley putting the asparagus casserole near the back edge, hoping to hide it. She was still slightly disappointed that it seemed unfinished to her, but at least Rainy had found two eggs in the chicken coop, unusual for this time of year with the weather being colder. It seemed less unfinished with those at least. She didn’t even take the lid off, not sure she wanted to display it.

Bam watched her with a smirk. The things she got self-conscious over...no cheese. She’d started not to even bring it, but he’d convinced her to do so. He held his arm out, slipping it around her shoulders as she snuggled into his side, looking up at the tree they’d cut as a family and the girls, Bear, and Gabe had decorated.

“PRESENTS FIRST!” Bear yelled from the stairs, jumping over the railing.

“Aw c’mon, we’re staaaarving!” Gabe said, already sitting at the table, waiting for the food.

“No! Gabe! Presents first...remember?” Matt said, nodding his head toward the tree. Gabe seemed like he remembered whatever they’d had planned and slid out from behind the table, joining the family who was gathering around the tree. Bam sat with one knee propped up, pulling Henley to lean back against him. Occasionally he’d mumble a ‘more’ into her ear, kissing the lobe, or a comment about someone opening a present. His beard and mustache tickled, but it was such a good feeling she couldn’t bear to tell him to stop.

Kacey felt even more giddy seeing her friend and Bam getting along so well; it made her want to cuddle into Matt that much more. Matt sat in one of the few chairs littered about the room, holding Kacey on his knee as he watched his sisters open their gifts. He was a little nervous about his present to Kacey, but was pretty sure he’d done well.

Soon it was Kacey’s turn. She initially was going to wait and open her’s with Henley, but as Henley seemed to be a little preoccupied with whatever Bam was whispering into her ear. Kacey grinned at Matt as she started tearing into the paper. The wooden box was beautiful. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the wood and how well it was put together. She ran her thumb over the little burned marks in the corner. “M & K”.

“I love it, it’s beautiful!” She kissed his stubbly cheek.

“That’s not all, open it.” He spoke softly, flipping the latch up and lifting the lid.

“Oh, there’s more??” She asked excitedly, looking inside. She saw several small parcels of paper inside, picking up one at a time and gently unfolding the paper.

First there was the Santa, made from milkweed tufts for the beard and sees for the eyes and nose. Next was a snowman, made from pieces of styrofoam that washed up on the shore. Next was a reindeer made from spent shells and sticks.

“I helped with those!” Rain piped up, Birdie elbowed her a little, “Well I did...”

“Matt…” She opened the others, more ornaments that were meticulously crafted just for her to hang on her tree.

“I know how much you miss home and that this Christmas isn’t exactly what you are used to...I thought these might make it a little better for you.” His hand rubbed her back slowly, watching her face to see if she genuinely liked them. The small tears at the corner of her eyes were the indication he was looking for.

“Matt...I...I love them...I love you, so much.” She placed them carefully back in the box, turning to hug him tightly, “Thank you…” She whispered, kissing his cheek.

“Henley…” Rain cleared her throat, snapping Bam and Henley out of their little trance, “Your turn!”

“Oh, me? Already?” Henley picked up the rectangular shaped box, shaking it. It made a slight clunking noise, she was unable to even guess what it was. She looked at Bam quizzically before ripping away the paper. She was shocked at first, her face blank as she held up the yellow box.

“You got me...Velveeta?” She turned to look at Bam.

“I...I know you love cheese...but it’s hard to keep that stuff out here...this keeps longer and I thought...I thought you might like to put it on your asparagus stuff.” Bam looked like every second he was regretting his decision more and more. She looked from him back to the box and thought for a moment. She’d said pretty much from the time she arrived that she missed cheese. She probably said it once a day. And here was a man trying to give her exactly what she wanted. What else could she ask for.

She held the box to her chest, smiling, finally showing some sort of reaction. She turned and hugged Bam, almost knocking him back flat on the floor.

“Geez, girl...easy!” He laughed, his arms around her, squeezing her back.

“Thank you...it’s perfect.” She whispered,  nuzzling his neck. Giggling she jumped up and stepped her way around the small crowd of people. She grabbed her dish and put it in the kitchen, grabbing a knife. She giddily added a few bits of cheese to the dish, popping it back into the oven to melt.

“Dammit, Henley...presents aren’t done yet!” Bam said, beckoning her over with a sly grin. She cocked her head to the side, glancing at Kacey.

“They aren’t?” Kacey looked around, all the presents had been opened. It was then she noticed Matt had an envelope in his hand that was identical to one Bam had in his back pocket, “What...what are these?” She pointed to the envelope.

Bam pulled his from his back pocket.

“These? These are your New Year’s presents.” Henley came back over taking the envelope from Bam, smiling curiously at him as she opened it. She made sure Kacey was opening her’s simultaneously before removing the folded paper.

Both girls gasped so loud you’d thought the room was out of air. Their hands flew to their mouths as they tried to stifle the squeals of delight that were begging to come out.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS, BAM?” Henley asked, unable to control the volume of her voice. He nodded, trying not to laugh, “TIMES SQUARE?? FOR NEW YEARS??”

Matt chuckled out loud as Kacey hopped up from his lap, dancing from foot to foot. “Figured you girl’s needed a taste of the city. What better place than the Big Apple!”

The squeals were audible now as the girls jumped up and down, going to hug each other and then back to their respective mates. Kacey jumped into Matt’s arms, tightly holding on around his shoulders, still giggling.

Henley’s giggles subsided slightly only as she was overwhelmed with emotion over their amazing gifts. She clung tightly to Bam as he held her tightly to him. Even as the family milled about, heading to the dining room table, he still held her.

Kacey lowered herself from Matt’s waist, straightening the collar of the new shirt she given him.

“So did I do good?” Matt wiggled his eyebrows at her, with a signature little chuckle.

“You did very, very good. You’re at the top of Santa’s nice list this year.” Kacey cooed, stroking the side of his face.

“I might be so bold as to say best Christmas ever?” Bam’s crooked smile made her stomach tingle as Henley slid her arms around his shoulders. She flicked the brim of his new hat she’d gifted to him before the party.

“Best Christmas, ever…” She smiled at him, “I can’t complain!”