#is also being pressured by his mum to find a 'nice girl' and settle down like his other brothers have

[ampintherain]

My Baby Love

*GIF NOT MY OWN- creds to theothersideoffantasy*

Owen Patrick Joyner x reader request!!!

Maybe the reader is part of the JATP cast and once at a gathering the cast starts teasing the reader about who she’d date among the boys. She gives her opinion on each boy but Owen gets upset when she says she wouldn’t date him because he’s a baby (even though she’s only 2 years older). She knows it’s stupid but it’s the only excuse she can find to fight her feelings. Everyone notices how oblivious they both are so at every occasion they keep mentioning how a great couple they’d make ? At the beginning Owen and the reader stay close but eventually the reader becomes more and more flustered and tries to distance herself to suppress her feelings. At the end they just have a heart to heart convo and kiss ? I need major fluff 😂

Requested By: @shimmeringfrenchie

I LOVED THIS REQUEST! I hope I can create the story you want💜

When I got the call to be in season 2 of Julie and the Phantoms, I never once imagined that it would end up like this- me falling for someone two years younger than me, I had never been attracted to someone younger than me before, I always went with older guys it was just something that I had always done so when I met Owen, I thought that he’d end up being like a little brother to me and that was what I had hoped. 

“Hey Y/n!” I heard Charlie call my name as I was leaving the lot, I turned around to see the brunette running towards me with Owen close by, my heart began to race as I saw the blue eyes belonging to the gorgeous boy, 

“H-hey” I stuttered, clearing my throat before regaining my confidence, “wassup?” I questioned, looking between the two boys, catching Owen staring at me, I smiled and tore my gaze away, focusing my attention back onto Charlie, 

“Well, Owen and I are having some of the cast over tonight for takeout and we were wondering if you wanted to come? Savannah really wants you there” the brunette asked, I nodded happily,

“Well, if Sav wants me there, I guess I have no choice” I joked, just as Savannah walked past us, tucking me into her side

“That is very true, I wouldn’t want to endure a night with the cast without my best friend being there!” Savannah smiled. I had developed a very close friendship with Savannah within a week of filming, the first day of bootcamp she had showed me around and always made sure I was alright, we later realised that we had very similar interests and decided to move in together for the filming of the season and the friendship stemmed from there, she was most definitely my best friend and the truest friend that I had ever had. 

“Fine, I’ll be there. What time?” I questioned, looking back over at the boys as Savannah squealed happily beside me,

“Does 7 sound good?” Owen asked, I looked up at him and my breath caught in my throat- he was single-handedly the most attractive person I had ever laid my eyes on and it was almost painful how much I liked him.

“Yep, sounds perfect. I’ll see you then” I smiled, waving the boys goodbye before walking off with Savannah, we wandered through the parking lot before reaching my car, we both hopped in and Savannah took a hold of the aux cord, playing her created playlist of all of Justin Bieber’s hits. 

The time to leave for Charlie and Owen’s place soon came round, I changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie before slipping on my Converse and heading to the door with Sav. “Should we walk or no?” I asked, Savannah shrugged her shoulders, soon going for the option of walking considering the boys didn’t live that far away from us and it was a nice evening in Vancouver, “so, you and Owen?” Savannah questioned after a short silence, my heart rate quickened at the mention of his name, I turned to her with a confused look etched across my face, 

“What?” I laughed, as we entered the boys’ apartment building and making our way up to their apartment, “I have no idea what you’re talking about” I rolled my eyes, knocking on the door lightly, the door swung open, revealing Owen smiling his award-winning smile, pushing his hair back from his face before stepping to the side, “hey O” I smile, 

“Hey Petal” he said, giving me my usual nickname before pulling me in for a hug, I wrapped my arms around his waist and gave him a tight squeeze, “Hey Sav” Owen continued, letting go of me and giving Savannah a quick hug, I walked further into the apartment seeing Madi, Charlie and Jeremy all sat in the den chatting away, 

“Hey Losers” I joked, sitting next to Madi, she pulled me in for a tight side hug, pulling away just as quickly before crossing her legs and settling further into the coach. Savannah swiftly joined the group alongside Owen, sitting beside me whilst Owen sat next to Jeremy.

We had been at the boys’ apartment for around an hour or two, just eating pizza and chatting, “oh guys!” Savannah spoke excitedly, shuffling in her seat comfortably, 

“oh what?!” Charlie mimicked Sav’s excitement causing her to glare at him

“We should play Honest” she suggested, looking over at everyone’s confused faces towards the game suggestion “Honest? You guys, it’s self explanatory, it’s like the best game. You ask someone a question and they have to answer honestly.” she shrugged, I turned to the girl sat beside me, raising a singular eyebrow, “Y/n/n, it’s the best game. Honestly. Come on, please guys” she whined, 

“I think it’ll be fun” Madison smiled enthusiastically, as always, bringing the mood up and tempting the group into the activity that Savannah had suggested, Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and I chorused a small ‘fine’ causing Savannah to squeal with excitement, reaching over my head to give Madi a high-five. 

“Okay okay, I’ll go first... Madi, what’s the worst thing about filming?” Sav questioned, Madi thought about it for a second or two, her eyebrows furrowed as she chewed lightly on her lip,

“I’d say the super early mornings and really really late nights, I’m definitely not used to this new sleep schedule... um... Jeremy, what’s your favourite thing about Carolynn?” Madison smiled, “I only ask because I love seeing your face when you talk about her... it’s so cute!” Jeremy blushed and looked down at the floor for a small moment,

“Okay, I have a lot of favourite things about Carolynn but, one of the things I love most about her is her heart, she has the kindest soul, she cares about everyone she knows so deeply and she is really willing to do anything for the people she loves, she puts other people’s needs before her own and I just think it’s the most beautiful thing” Jeremy gushed, causing the girls and I to ‘aw’ at him, he was totally loved up and it was something that I could only ever wish for, 

“I wish someone spoke about me like that” I said, Jeremy smiled at me before asking Savannah which show she preferred to film- Julie and the Phantoms or Knight Squad to which she answered Julie and the Phantoms, giving the reasons of being able to sing and dance and she also mentioned how she loved the closeness of the cast, saying that we were more like a family. 

“Okay... Y/n, who would you date out of the boys- y’know out of Owen, Booboo, and Charlie” Savannah questioned, refusing to mention Jeremy as we all know that he would never have been an option based on the pure fact that Carolynn was his soulmate, 

“Right... well,  I’d say, probably Charlie because as much as I love Boo, he’s more of an annoying brother and I’d just find it weird if we dated and Owen’s a little baby” I explained, 

“Oh some I’m only your option because of process of elimination, great. Thanks y/n/n” Charlie joked, I rolled my eyes at him and looked over at Owen, I watched as his eyes lowered and his mouth turned down, he quickly faked a yawn before standing up off the couch and stretching, yawning again,

“Right, well I’m gonna head to bed, I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Night” he said shortly, promptly leaving the den and making his way to his bedroom, he quickly stole another glance at me before shaking his head and entering his room. After that, the rest of us slowly started to disperse, Madi left first, then Jeremy and then Sav and I. 

I crawled into bed and stared up at my ceiling, I couldn’t fight off the feeling that I had really upset Owen, it must’ve been me, I mean he was fine all night- he was engaged, laughing, cracking his stupid jokes and then everything changed once I said that he was a baby... I didn’t really feel like that, I mean, I liked him. A lot, it’s just that I’ve never really gone for younger guys before, I always dated much older guys. But there was just something about him that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, something about him had me hooked and I couldn’t figure out whether it was a nuisance or something that I wanted to happen, all I knew is that however I was feeling, it was something beyond my control. 

I just didn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t say that I was a control freak but I definitely didn’t enjoy not being able to have any type of control of what was happening in my life, I always planned on dating and marrying someone a few years older than me as that is what my mum did, my grandma did, and my great grandma. I don’t have any understanding on why I wanted to do the same as them, maybe it was because of my desperate need to impress the women in my family. They’re all successful and they always used to build up this pressure on me to be the perfect woman, I had no room for mistakes. So my falling for Owen, was not in the plan, something out of my control and quite frankly, it was driving me insane. 

For the next few days, I tried to talk to Owen but no matter how hard I tried, it seemed that he was trying even harder to avoid me at all costs. “I don’t know why you would say that...” Charlie said as he sat beside me at the lunch hall, “it’s obvious you both like each other” I furrowed my eyebrows and looked at the boy, scoffing

“Yeah, right” I said, rolling my eyes and picking at my food, essentially just pushing it around the plate aimlessly, a silence fell over the two of us as I peered up to see Charlie staring at me with a look on his face as if it say ‘are you serious?’ 

“Y/n/n... you do like him. I don’t care what you have to say and how much you’re going to deny it. You like him” he shrugged just as Savannah sat across from us

“What are you guys talking about?” She asked breathlessly as she had just finished her dancing scene, I gave her an obvious look that she immediately picked up on “ohhh, Owen?” she questioned as I nodded slowly

“I was just telling our friend here, that she likes Owen and that it’s so obvious that she does” the Canadian explained blatantly, to which Savannah agreed, informing me that it was written all over my face whenever I saw Owen, or even whenever his name was briefly mentioned.

“You’re just caught up on the fact that you want to be like your mum and date older guys. The heart wants what is wants Sweetie, and your heart just so happens to want a 20 year old with lucious blonde hair.” Savannah joked, I rolled my eyes and stood up from the table, 

“I refuse to stay here any longer with you guys just talking absolutely nonsense” I replied, shortly. I looked at the two people I was previously sat with before gathering my food and quickly throwing it away as I walked past the bin. I walked out of the small lunch hall and made my way to my trailer.

“Uh.. hey y/n. Wait up” I heard a familiar voice call, Owen. I turned around and smiled up at him nervously. We hadn’t spoken in days, only having fictional conversations as our characters but after that? Strangers. “Can... can we talk?” he questioned, rubbing the back of his neck. I nodded, unable to form any kind of functioning sentence, I silently ushered him into my trailer, closing the door behind me. Owen sat on my small loveseat and patted the spot next to him which I reluctantly took.

“Uh... so what’s up?” I questioned, spluttering slightly, I placed my hands in my lap, closing them and fiddling with my thumbs- a habit I picked up in middle school, whenever I was asked a question by one of my teachers, I would twiddle my thumbs over each other in a circular motion, I wasn’t too sure whether it was something to do with my anxiety or it had links to my thinking process and to this day, I’m still unaware of what it roots to but I have never been able to wean myself off of it. 

“Did you mean what you said...” the blonde boy questioned me, “y’know, about how you wouldn’t date me because I’m a baby?” I glanced up at him quickly before diverting my attention to the plain wall in front of me. I inhaled sharply when I felt Owen’s slightly calloused hand make contact with my cheek, he held on to my face lightly as he brought my eyes to meet his own “because I’m not a baby Y/n, I’m just two years younger than you, it’s not like you were in high school when I was born. You were two. I’m not a baby” he reiterated, I nodded and sighed

“Yeah O, I know... I don’t know why I said it. I regretted it the second it left my mouth. Look, ever since I was younger, I was surrounded by women who all married men older than them and my mum always told me that that is how it should be, but it doesn’t feel like that with me... yeah I’ve dated olderguys but-” I cut myself off, worried that if I let all my emotions out to Owen, he wouldn’t reciprocate and I would officially ruin the entire friendship alongside the whole cast dynamic because there would be this awkward tension between Owen and I but just times by a million. 

“But what?” he pushed, his thumb running along my cheek causing me to instinctively close my eyes at the blissful feeling it was giving me, the simple touch melted away all of my anxieties “actually wait” he spoke, causing my eyes to shoot open, the anxieties to come rushing back in, I glanced up at him and furrowed my brows together “Y/n, I like you. A lot, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anybody before. Hearing you call me a baby made me feel like you would never see me in that way, and it’s fine. Totally fine. If you don’t feel the same way but I just feel like I need to tell you everything I feel. Y/n, when I see you, everyone else just fades away. I physically can’t picture my life without you in it in any way, even if we just stay friends. I need you with me, you calm me down... so yeah” Owen said, the confidence in himself slowly fading as he continued to ramble, watching my face to see if I expressed any indication other than confusion, I slowly reached up and took a hold of his hand bringing it down in my lap and enclosing it with both of my hands.

“Owen, I like you too... that’s what I was going to say. I’ve dated a few older guys and they just never made me feel the way you do. Owen, you make me laugh so much, you make me feel protected and always cared for and I have never experienced that. Growing up, I had this pressure put on me by my mum, grandma and even my great grandmother, they all used to tell me that ‘dating older men is the way it should be’ and that’s all I thought of, I never thought that a younger guy would come along and sweep me off my feet but you did Owen Patrick Joyner, you really did and I can’t keep denying my feelings for you to everyone and especially to myself.” I breathed out, looking up at Owen with tears welling in my eyes just threatening to spill, Owen abruptly yet gently grabbed my face pulling me in close to him, his lips ghosted over my own as he let out a shaky breath

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted” he said before he pressed his lips to mine in a passionate kiss, I could feel butterflies erupt in my stomach at the feeling of his soft lips on mine, one of his hands moved from the side of my face to the base of my neck, pulling me in closer and deepening to kiss, my hands traced up his arms and draped themselves over his shoulders, toying with the ends of his hair. 

This. This felt right, this was how it was supposed to feel. Electrifying, loving and passionate. I never thought I’d fall for someone younger but here he was, Owen. My baby love. 

[acciomalfoy]

Head Boy (Bill Weasley x Reader)

Summary: Once Bill Weasley gets Head Boy there’s only one thing stopping you from talking to him - the Head Girl.

My parents pushed a letter into my hand as I was about to board the train, and my mum hugged me.

“We’re so proud of you, honey. Remember to owl us.” I hugged her back in confusion.

“Wha-“ Dad cut me off.

“We love you, stay safe.” Then I was on the train and they were gone. I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter with a Hogwarts seal. I read the parchment in my hand, and reread it. I was returning as a Gryffindor prefect. I stared at the headboys name, and I bit my lip. I had been trying to avoid Bill Weasley, on account of me having a massive fat crush on him. I was already seventeen, and I knew his birthday was in a couple months. If Bill was Head Boy, then maybe it was time I finally grew up and confronted my feelings.

“Salazar!” I swore when I saw who was Head Girl. It was a ghastly girl who shamelessly flaunted her “love” for Bill, and I knew I wouldn’t get a single slot of rounds with him. Of course, I didn’t want every round with him, but a couple would be nice. We were already decent friends, but my giggling friends had ruined the last several conversations we had. I knew it was a mistake to tell them.

“Hey, Y/n! Did you forget you were a prefect?” Bill popped out of nowhere, and I gasped.

“Bill!” I held a hand against a wall to steady myself, and he laughed. Godric, that laugh.

“You better get changed now, we have a meeting. I’ll wait for you.” He nodded towards the bathroom and I nodded.

“Sure. Thanks.” I toddled into the bathroom to get changed, and when I emerged he was leaning against the wall of the carriage, deep in thought.

“Oi, William!” I clicked my fingers in his face and he blinked.

“Finally, I thought I was going to turn to dust before you came out. Come on, meetings started.” He linked an arm with mine, and I felt a tingle of electricity run up it. We walked into the prefects room and took a seat at the back. All the heads of house were there.

“Welcome back, prefects! As you all know, Catherine Rawlings and William Weasley are head girl and head boy, making them in charge of organising rounds. If you are unable to complete rounds, you are to talk to them about it. If they find your reason implausible, or not worthy of changing the schedule, then you are able to pursue the matter with us.” McGonagall beamed proudly at all of us, and I couldn’t help but smile back. When I looked at Catherine, I saw the smug look on her face. Bitch.

“Now, did anyone lose their badges over the break?” Two hands went up, and I raised mine. It really wasn’t my fault. My cat is very temperamental.

“Honestly L/n, what am I going to do with you?” McGonagall smiled at me, and I took the badge she offered me.

“Thanks Professor. You know as well as I do how much Charlie hates shiny things.” She nodded, knowing my cat even better than I did.

“That I do.” She walked back to the front of the room.

“Alright prefects, you’re free to go.” Bill met my eyes, and the second he stood up McGonagall shook her head.

“Mr Weasley, as head boy you’ll be staying behind to sort out the rounds. Miss Rawlings, that’s you too.” Catherine swung around to smile at Bill, and I realised she had something green in her teeth. Serves her right.

“Bye, Bill. See you in the hall.” I waved before I left, feeling quite bad for myself. I found the carriage Bethany and Gabbie were in, and settled down for the long train ride. After a gruelling couple of hours, we arrived thanks to the magical train. My back was throbbing as I stood up, and Gabbie shouted in surprise when she tried to stand up and her foot was sleep.

“Help!” She yelled at she fell instantly. Bethany and I cracked up laughing as we stared at her on the floor, and we left without helping her. We could hear her shouting obscenities, and we laughed as we stepped off the train.

Once again, the magical view took my breath away. As I stared up at Hogwarts, stark against the pink sky, I was hit by the realisation that this was the second last time I would ever see this view. Things were never going to be the same, and it hurt.

“Bye, Beth. Gotta go catch the first one.” She nodded at me as I ran forward, her eyes also set on the view in front of us. I weaved in and out of students, some of them yelling my name, others glaring. When I reached the front, I saw Hagrid.

“Hagrid! Any room for me?” He laughed when he saw me, amid petting thin air.

“Have you ever been on time, Miss L/n?” He stepped aside to reveal a spare seat in Catherine and Bill’s carriage, and I laughed out loud. I really couldn’t help it.

“Thanks! See you at Hogwarts!” I waved at him as he set our carriage off and I looked at Bill.

“Fancy meeting you here, Weasley.” I held out a hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, L/n. I trust you enjoyed the train ride?” We shook hands, and then dissolved into laughter. Small things amuse small minds.

“Anyway, why didn’t you speak up earlier Bill? We could have adjusted them.” Catherine butted in, and Bill stopped laughing.

“I forgot.” He rubbed his neck, and I knew he was lying. He winked at me, and I tried not to laugh.

“What’re you laughing for? Got something to say?” Fucking hell, is it a crime to laugh?

“I didn’t realise laughing was forbidden.” I glared at her, and she glared back.

“Any chance of me getting my schedule early?” I looked at Bill with my best puppy dog eyes, and he looked away.

“Nope. You’ll get it as soon as we get there. We have to have a quick meeting to discuss the new rules, new house passwords, and schedules. Wait, do you want to choose our password?” Bill asked me excitedly. I gasped.

“Bill, that’s hardly appropriate-“ The bitch tried to butt in, but we ignored her.

“Yes! Holy shit! Can I make it nugget?” It was perfect. Reminded me of the crisp, tender chicken nuggets at home.

“Like, the gold?” Bill was confused, and I gasped.

“You mean, you’ve never had a chicken nugget?” It hurt to think that he hadn’t. Definitely something I would bring him from Christmas at home.

“No?” I shook my head.

“Doesn’t matter. That’s what I want the password to be.” Bill nodded.

“Okay, that’s settled. I was dying trying to think of a password. Way too much pressure. Hey, we’re here!” The carriage pulled into Hogwarts, and I was too busy being pleased with myself to stick the finger at Catherine.

“I’ll help you down.” Bill got out first, and he extended a hand to me.

“Such a gentlemen.” I smiled at him and climbed out with his assistance. We kept walking, ignoring Catherine’s shout.

“Oi!” We laughed as we entered the castle.

“We’re meeting here.” Bill stopped beside a pillar off to left of the main entrance, and I stopped with him.

“Can nugget really be the password?” I asked, hoping to Godric it was true. Bill laughed, and my heart soared.

“If you want it to be, then it will.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“Thanks a lot.” Apparently Catherine didn’t how to be anything other than a massive bitch.

“For what?” Bill held up a peace sign, and I snorted.

“Regardless, L/n, your schedules being swapped already. I decided to take up an apprenticeship that contradicts my rounds.” Why she had to tell me that, I had no clue, but Bill stiffened.

“At least let her see it first.” Bill said quickly. Catherine shrugged.

“Sure, but it isn’t hers anymore. It’s mine.” Cow. Other prefects joined us, and McGonagall handed out our rounds. When I looked at mine, I saw I was with Griffin for all of them. Every last one. Fuck.

“I’ve swapped with Griffin.” Bill whispered in my ear, and I gasped.

“But I’ve swapped with you. Here’s your new one.” Catherine snatched mine out of my hand to give me hers. They were all with Bill, which was Griffin. When I looked at them, I realised something.

“Sorry, Catherine. I can’t do these. I take level four potions during these.” I tried to take mine back, but she pulled it out of reach.

“You’ll have to get rid of it then.” Bill raised an eyebrow.

“Give Y/n her rounds.” Catherine glared.

“No. They’re mine now.” Bill walked away, and Catherine smirked at me. Annoying bitch. Bill returned with McGonagall in tow.

“What seems to be the problem?” She asked, looking at the two of us.

“Catherine is trying to swap rounds but I can’t do hers and she won’t give me mine back.” Try me bitch. I don’t have a problem with being a tattletale if it’s to her.

“Is this true, Miss Rawlings?” Catherine sputtered.

“No! I was merely comparing rounds. Here you go, L/n.” Catherine handed back my sheet, but she was glaring. McGonagall left, and Catherine stuck the finger up at me.

“Watch yourself, Catherine. Wouldn’t want the title of head girl taken from you.” I blew her a kiss before Bill pulled me into the Great Hall, laughing.

“Thanks, Billy. Ready for all our rounds?” I ruffled his hair as we sat down at the end.

“Do you know why we have every round together?” Bill asked me, and I shook my head. I was grateful as Helena to Slughorn for offering me advanced level four potions classes, because without him I’d be good as gone.

“It’s because I like you. A shit ton. And Catherine’s a cow and she keeps trying to get me alone, but I don’t want to be alone with anyone but you.” I almost laughed at the thought of Bill being horny, till I realised what he said.

“What? You’re serious?” He nodded, and I smiled softly.

“I like you too. I’m so glad I don’t have rounds with Griffin. I almost shitted myself when I saw.” He pulled me in, and we hugged as students filed in.

“So,” I started.

“So,” He let go of me, and we stared at each other.

“Are we dating?”

“Can we please date?” I took one of his hands. It was almost double the size of mine.

“We may, kind sir.” We laughed, and I couldn’t imagine being soulmates with anyone else.

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [23]

Masterlist

Warnings: dirty talk, Dracula swearing, very VERY dom Drac, mention of a breeding kink you’re welcome, biting, fingering (f receiving), oral (m/f receiving), thigh riding, squirting, just Claes Bang in general

A/N: since you were all so lovely to DraccyBoi in your asks (he’s still anticipating more asks btw), you receive a gift of smut! Also this one is so long I’m so sorry (pun intended)

~^*^~

Jack was smiling awkwardly at you. You hadn’t seen nor heard from him since you left Yorkshire and you were certain thar your friendship had come to its second end.

“Your mum invited me.” He explained and you rushed over to hug him.

“I am... so glad to see you.” You confessed, “but why the hell did you come all the way down just for a stupid party?”

“Well...”

How could he tell you? There was a lump in his throat that stopped him from speaking any further. If he told you, he would shatter everything that you had built. By the way you were quite literally glowing, he knew that you were finally enjoying your life. He was happy for you, of course. He couldn’t tell you. Not tonight. Besides, if he was lucky, word would reach you by the morning from somebody else, anyway.

He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here now and you’ve been a terrible friend by not messaging me or anything. For all I knew, you could have become a bloodsucker.”

“He won’t turn me.” You told him, “now come, there is alcohol in the kitchen.”

Taking his wrist, you lead him into the kitchen and straight towards the many half-drunken bottles of alcohol. The patio doors were swung open, the sound of laughter breezing in as many of the fishwives very obviously stood flirting with Dracula. He had been trying to get away and get back to you for the better part of 10 minutes but with no success. You ignored the sounds, helping Jack to pick the best alcohol for his mood and stood laughing with him for a minute or two.

“Hey, um, I was wondering if we could possibly go talk somewhere a little more private?” Jack suddenly piped up.

“I hope this won’t be like your private “talks” with Lucy.” You teased.

“Oh god, no. I don’t want to die just yet.” He chuckled.

“Very well. I’m sure you remember just where we can go.”

The place was another little sacred trove that you and Jack only knew about. This one dated back much further than Robin Hood’s Bay and had been the location of many break downs, underage drinking sessions and of course, your outrageous teenage gossip. Taking his wrist, you plucked up your own glass and pulled him out into the garden. You ignored the stares of the many women who suddenly began excitedly whispering.

However, it was almost too hard to ignore Dracula. You knew that being seen with Jack would hurt him, and you truly didn’t know how far you could push him before he left you or killed you. But Jack very rarely wished to speak privately with you. If he did, it wasn’t for no reason.

The bottom of the garden seemed miles away with such an angry, hot glare being sent your way. Had the man somehow developed laser vision within the next second, Jack would have been left without the lower half of his left arm, you were certain. With your betrayal being spoken so carelessly as if you weren’t even there by the wives, Dracula’s temper was rising quickly. You were definitely going to pay this time. You knew it. When you reached the bottom of the garden and both you and Jack disappeared beyond the small cut out in the bushes, Dracula’s temper surged. He finally waved away all of the women and made his way inside to slump down on the sofa, ignoring all the questions of the men.

When you emerged on the other side of the bushes, a small shed greeted you. Still painted with all the little flowers and signs Lucy, Jack, Daniel and yourself had painted, it reeked of a time long ago when you had been care-free and happy. The inside was a little dusty, but the cushions were still useable and the fairy lights still worked, so it wasn’t completely abandoned. You took your seat.

“Okay, so what’s going on?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“I... well...” he hesistated.

“Jack, I hate to pressure you, but my very angry vampire boyfriend may just kill me for being with you right now, so the last thing you can do for me is tell me. I’m practically on my death bed.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m moving back to London.” He blurted out.

“You’re what?! Why?!” You were shocked. Jack had settled in nicely in that little cottage you had left. He had begged you to stay. He was convinced that living by the sea was where he wanted - no, needed - to be!

He knew he was going to have to lie to you. He refused to ruin your evening further. Just his presence had caused a shift in the mood, he knew it. There was no way he would admit the truth. Not until at least tomorrow.

“I just... I missed it here. I’m... I want to be back down here, with you. With my family again.”

“Jack,” you sighed, “youre an awful liar.”

“I know.” He smiled sheepishly, bowing his head.

“If you can’t tell me why, I understand.” You smiled softly at him.

“No, it’s just- I-.. I can tell you but, I don’t want to ruin your evening.” His eyes looked up at you through his lashes.

“Then tell me tomorrow. Should we go coffees or something?”

“Yes but... you’ll need to bring Dracula.”

Okay. Something was wrong. You could tell by the way he strained to say his name that Jack did not like vampire one bit. After all, he had turned Lucy into a monstrosity and stolen you away from him, leaving him alone hundreds of miles away from anyone he knew. For him to ask you to bring Dracula to talk to him, no, something was definitely not right.

“Jack, what is going on?”

“Please, just... we’ll talk tomorrow. Until then, I missed you.”

He moved on, pulling you into him. He had truly missed you so very much, and if weren’t for the fact that he had begun to see you a little differently than before, he’d be livid with you for leaving him as you did.

You spent a little more time in the privacy of your little shed, just catching up on the weeks that you hadn’t spoken. It was nice to be with him again.

Whilst you were in there, Dracula was sulking hard. He had heard the wives (who had come inside for the comfort and privacy of Jack and yourself) whisper about how Jack suited you much better than he did. ‘Well he’s much closer to her age, they have much more in common’ one had whispered. ‘Yes, and they’ve been friends for so long, it’s inevitable that something would happen eventually.’ Would it be bad if he went in there and tore her head off? ‘And the way he looks at her! I don’t think she realises. That Dracula looks at her like she’s food.’ They laughed. ‘Now, come on, Sally, that’s how your Mike used to look at you!’ Another bout of laughter.

Music was playing quite loudly in the kitchen, drowning out their voices, but Dracula could hear them clearly. His fingers gripped onto the arm rest of the sofa. Is this what society had come to? Mother’s bashing their own children and the people in their lives? How sickening.

“Awe, look!”

The room burst into sounds of endearment and Dracula finally stood. Stepping forward, he turned to look through the kitchen and out of the window. You had emerged again with Jack, and you were on the patio, arms around his neck, his hands dropped to your waist, swaying to the music.

‘Give me reasons we should be complete // You should be with him I can’t compete // You looked at me like I was someone else, oh well // Can’t you see // I don’t wanna slow dance // In the dark’

You threw your head back at something he had said, and he buried his head into your neck, right on top of where the bite Dracula had given you was concealed.

A hand came on to his shoulder and he turned his head to see your father. His cheeks were a little red and his eyes were glossed with alcohol.

“Don’t worry,” he began, “she’s only doing it to control her tyrant of a mother.”

“Her mother is insistent on picking her suitor?” Dracula folded his arms.

“You see that fella over there?” He pointed to a man standing in the corner. He was around your height, with a round, slightly puffy face. He wore a visibly expensive suit, fat fingers gripping a sherry glass which was empty except for a thin layer of liquid at the bottom of the glass. His flaming orange hair stood out, and he was currently talking to another young lady who was clearly jusy a little repulsed by him.

“Yes, I see him.”

“She’s been trying to get [First] to date him for years. Silly woman. He’s nowhere near good enough for my baby.”

Your words rung in his ears - “tall, handsome Mark” - and he scoffed in amusement and disbelief that you had played him like that. He looked like every middle class asshole portrayed on the television. And by the way he was shuffling closer to the lady he was engaged in conversation with, he could see why you constantly rejected your mother’s advances.

“I feel that someone should go and rescue that poor girl.” Dracula chuckled, thinking of how he could possibly get you back. He looked over at you once more. Now that the song had changed, so had your dance.

‘How long // Til you play me the song // That will me belong to you // One dance // With my baby tonight // And we’ll dance til the night is though’

You were a little more carefree, twisting your hips and laughing. Your fingers were interlocked with Jack’s as you lead your arms high above your head and arched them down and out. Jack was flushing a little and you laughed, pulling some space between the pair of you but keeping your hands locked. You were singing the lyrics. Your voice had always been pretty.

“I think it should be the taller of us, go give him a good scare.”

He intended on scaring two people tonight...

He glided across the room, quickly finding himself at the side of Mark and the lady. He pushed down his mischevuous smirk.

“I am sorry to interject, but I was just wondering if I could have a word with this fine lady.”

Her eyes lit up at his intrusion and he watched relief flood her face. He was her knight in shining armour, and he was going to milk it for everything that it was worth. Her hand immediately came out to wrap around his exposed forearm and pulled herself closer to him.

“Yes, thats fine-“

“Aren’t you supposed to be with [First]?” Mark sneered, looking Dracula up and down with disgust. It wasn’t the first time someone had looked at him like that, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“Weren’t you?” Dracula jeered and Mark’s face deepened with a scowl.

“Come on, boys, don’t fight.” The lady beside Dracula spoke, trying to keep the peace.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dracula turned his head to her, “it would hardly be a fair match.”

“Why you-“ Mark’s face reddened, really bringing out the orange on the top of his head.

“Now if you’ll excuse us. Come along, pet.”

Using his free hand, Dracula placed it over the top of the woman’s and lead her away quickly.

“What a creep.” She retorted, “you’re Dracula, aren’t you?”

“Great observation. Though, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.” He lead her over to the sofa. Her pulse was lively. He sat down, and she, like a magnet, took a seat right next to him she pulled herself closer so that their legs were touching and she was almost moulding into his side. Dracula smirked. Please, please let you walk in and have a taste of your own medicine.

“Chelsea.” She purred.

“Beautiful. Now, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Chelsea? While I have you all to myself.”

“Are you sure you should be talking to me like this? You came with [First].”

“Do you see her around?”

Her eyes lit up once more. So she was one of these girls you spoke about with such distaste. A “thot” if he remembered correctly. A man-stealer. He could not have chosen a better target.

~^*^~

You spent another hour or so in Jack’s company, and it was during this house that the house began to die down as people began to leave. Your mother had asked you and Dracula to stay the night, as it was quite a drive back to his apartment and it would be dangerous to drive so late. ‘He’ll be too tired to drive!’ She’d almost wailed, as if she had a premonition of you getting into an exhaustion induced car accident. You assured her that he wouldn’t be tired at all he hadn’t slept in hundreds of years he wasn’t going to start today. But you ended up agreeing, anyway. She had kept your bedroom the same, including the single bed, so you didn’t really know where he’d be for the night. Maybe she’d force him to stay downstairs...

Once most of the people had left, you and Jack finally decided that it was a good idea to go back inside. After all, it was getting quite cold. Your mother was in the kitchen, talking to the last two wives who had yet to leave and the two eyed you when you walked in. You rolled your eyes. You hated her friends with a passion. In the living room, the last few men were stood laughing with your father. Mark was still floating around, sending sharp looks over to the sofa. Jack was quick to grab your hand, but regretted it when you squeezed in so much anger that you almost broke all of his fingers.

“Jack.” You spoke through your gritted teeth.

“Calm down.” He whispered, “don’t give them something to gossip about tomorrow.”

“They’re already going to be gossiping about us. Might as well juice it up a little.”

“Seriously don’t. Chelsea of all people isnt worth it.”

“I swear I’m gonna go over there and rip her damn extensions out of her fucking head.” You narrowed your eyes, “look she’s touching his chest!”

Your display of jealousy was making Jack chuckle behind his stoic face. He continued to hold your hand, thankful your grip had loosened. Sure enough, Chelsea was running one of her long fingers down the opening of his shirt where the expanse of his chest was available for her to touch. Dracula looked oh so very pleased with himself. Jack immediately knew was was happening and had to snort at the scenario. Trust Dracula of all people to give you a taste of your own medicine.

Chelsea laughed at something Dracula had just whispered into her ear and she pulled herself closer, wrapping one leg over his and curling her fingers around his bicep.

“I’m going to break her fucking kneecaps!” Jack pulled you backwards as you balled your fists.

“Calm down.” He chuckled. You snapped your head towards him, and he pulled you back into the kitchen.

“After I’ve put her in the hospital, you’re next.” You warned.

“You do realise that he’s doing it on purpose, right?” You pushes yourself away from him as he spoke, scowling.

“I don’t care why the fuck he’s doing it. The point is that-... that fucking slag has her hands all over my boyfriend! All over! And only I’m allowed to touch his chest!” You crosses your arms, unable to stop the pouty scowl on your features. You were mad.

“You are never drinking again.” Jack decided, “alcohol makes you vicious.”

“Sluts throwing themselves onto my boyfriend make me vicious!”

Jack burst into laughter. Your frowned settled deeper into your features and you very almost followed through with your urge to throw a glass at him. This was not funny! You could hear your parents saying goodbye to another set of guests and you finally decided enough was enough. Your heels clicked on the tile floor and then the sound shifted onto wood. You stood before Dracula, whos arm was around the other woman’s shoulders as he laughed with her. He looked you up and down with a cocky smugness that had your blood boiling.

“Oh, hi [First].” Chelsea gave you an obviously fake smile.

“Up now.” You ignored her, gaze burning into Dracula’s face.

“I am very comfortable here, thank you.” He retorted, not holding back his smirk.

“Up.” You growled. Dracula raised his eyebrows, mouth dropping with the smirk still evident.

“Someone’s moody.” Chelsea whispered. And that was it. The switch was flipped. The button was pressed. The red mist came down and you were no longer going to hold it back.

“If you ever step foot into my parents’ house again, I swear to god you will regret it. And if you don’t remove your hands and legs from my boyfriend within the next half-second, I going to drag your rat-ass onto the street and kick your fucking ass into next year.”

Dracula was looking at you like you were a meal. He had seen you upset. Yes, many times he had pissed you off. But this jealousy driven rage you were in right now? It was the hottest thing he had ever experienced. And he’d been in some very sexy situations.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Her scratchy voice pierced the air.

“Did you not hear me?” You stepped forwards, eyeing her down like she was a piece of rotten meat covered with maggots, “did all of the plastic surgery on your face ruin your hearing? Should I repeat myself?”

Jack was in hysterics in the kitchen. Your father was watching in the corner with the proudest look on his face. Dracula was ready to jump you and help with your pent up anger.

“You bitch!” She rose, but before one of her hands could connect with you, you had grabbed her firmly by the hair and was dragging her through the room. She screamed and tried her hardest to get out of your grip but your fist had turned to steel. She pushed you hard into the door frame and you let go of her hair at last. One of her hands flew up, connecting with your face. Dracula rose.

“Don’t.” Your father stopped him, “she can handle it.”

Your father was right. You kneed Chelsea backwards, face red with a livid and boiling rage. Really, you should have had steam coming from your ears. That’s how angry her hit had just made you. Your fist came up, connecting with her face and it did a lot more damage than her hand had done. She cried out in pain, trying once more to fight back but you tangled both of your hands into her hair. The door was still open, your mother having stepped out into the front garden to watch with a look of horror.

“Don’t you ever come back!” You screamed, driving her out of the door and down the path. When she was out of the gate, you threw her body and she tumbled into the road. She looked up, glaring at you. You were heaving. Your arm came out to point at her, “don’t you set foot on this fucking street again! I’ll know if you do and I swear to the devil himself that I really will hurt you next time!” You roared.

“Sorry, did I make you insecure?” She sneered, “it’s not my fault I’m a better woman than you could ever be.”

A scream of pure rage left your lips and you stormed into the road. A car was on its way, but you ignored the blaring lights as your foot connected with her jaw. Had it been disconnected from her body like a football, it would have disappeared over the houses never to be seen again. Your foot connected with her body again, this time her ribs and then you were pulled backwards by two strong arms around your waist.

You weren’t done with her yet and as his grip tightened, dragging you backwards, you bent your leg, tearing your shoe from your foot and launching it at her. It struck her right on her forehead, bouncing off with a thunk and she finally rolled on to her back.

“I suggest no one follow us, I’m going to calm her down.” His voice rang through your ear as he momentarily propped you down before grabbing your wrist and pulling you up the stairs. He had clearly been snooping during the length of the party, as he got your bedroom right the first time and swung you in. Due to the imbalance of your legs with only one heel, you stumbled. The door shut and you angrily turned to face Dracula. He had blocked the door.

“Move.” You growled.

“You are not going to kill anyone tonight.” He warned you.

“No, I won’t kill her. I’ll fucking destroy her.”

“Right. Calm down.” His voice was stern and had you not been so livid, it would have turned you on in an instant, “it’s not so clever now, is it? Sneaking away with other men. It’s not nice feeling such intense jealousy.”

It hit you that he truly had been doing it on purpose. He had let her crawl all over him, put her hands all over him - just to get back at you! You hadn’t seen Jack in weeks and you simply wanted to talk to him! How childish!

“I fucking hate you! You’re such an asshole!” You cried out, digging your fingers into your scalp as you tugged on your hair. You were so far gone into the red mist that it was beginning to feel difficult to leave it.

“You don’t hate me.” He stated plainly.

“Yes I fucking do! I definitely hate you right now!” You were red in the face.

“Is that so?” He cocked his head.

“YES!”

He was in front of you within and instant and his hands firmly gripped your waist, driving you backwards until the back of your knees hit your bed. You toppled backwards and his lips were on yours.

This dream was nothing but calmness. A warm water up to your waist. It rippled around you as you walked forwards with no problem. You were in nothing, and neither was he as he outstretched his hand. You were soon in his embrace, chests connecting as he tilted your head up to look at him. He held you close, freely falling back into water. It crashed over you, but you did not need to hold your breath, nor feel as though you would drown. Your hands moved to his face as you sunk further down, a darkness slowly overcoming you both. His lips came into yours and a warmth spread throughout you. His hands dug into your waist, pulling you close. Your legs automatically wrapped around him.

Coming out from the dream, you were panting, a string connecting yours and Dracula’s lips. You were now in the same position that you had been in in the dream - legs around his waist, hands on his face, his hands still firmly on your waist. It had calmed you down. Only a little. But it has definitely worked.

His eyes glossed over you and lifted you up a little, to undo the ribbon at the back of your necklace. He gently pulled it away , using his other hand to force your head up so that he could get a good look at your scar.

“Jealousy is a wonderful colour on you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on so quickly in my 524 years.” He purred.

“You’re an asshole.” You breathed. On the outside, your body was calming down from the rage, but mentally, you were fuming still.

His mouth came down, tongue working on the beautiful mark he had made. You moaned out, fingers lacing into his hair at the contact. You wondered if this mark would feel the same if someone else kissed it? Or was it like werewolf lore, in which you were marked and connection by your mate with it was a nerve straight to your heat?

Either way, your body immediately lit up at the contact. You pressed a messy kiss to his cheek in response, breath hitching every time his tongue worked on the scar. Pulses were shooting through your body.

Dracula pulled away for a moment, kneeling up between your legs as he pulled them from his waist. His hands travelled down your left leg, fingers soon having the clasp of your shoe undone and gently pulling it away.

“I can’t believe you threw your shoe at her. I planned on keeping them on you.” He sighed.

“What do you know, Count Dracula has a thing for fucking girls in heels.” You teased with a roll of your eyes.

He began to chuckle and your hands worked at his jacket. You pushed it down his broad shoulders and he helped you pull it away from his arms. You laughed at the sight of him. His dress trousers were tight on his waist, accentuating his waist and you began to laugh harder. He was looking down at you with an unreadable expression. Most likely out of habit, his chest was rising and falling, straining against the shirt. His hair was a little disheveled.

“What is it?” He smirked.

“You look like you’re about to go and do the samba on Striclty!” You chuckled.

“At least someone is feeling better.” He smirked.

“Oh, I’m still fucking livid with you. I’m just taking the piss to keep myself calm.” You chuckled.

“Then maybe you want to take some of your frustration out on me, my darling?”

Using the material of his shirt, you pulled him back on to you, attacking his neck with kisses. He sighed at the feeling. Your warmth was spreading through him and all he wanted was to get you out of that dress.

“I need to tell you something,” you mumbled over his skin, your fingers now working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Yes, my darling?” His hands were running up and down your sides.

“I may,” a kiss, “or may not,” another kiss, “have forgotten,” another kiss and you pulled away to look up into his eyes with a faux innocence, “to put on any panties before we left.”

At your words, an animalistic growl tumbled through his chest like thunder.

“Fuck.” His hands stopped your own from undoing any more buttons and he pulled the material over his head in one swift movement, “you dirty fucking thing.”

You mewled. You’d never get used to way profanities spilled from his lips. You loved it. A rush went straight to your core. He came down once more, attacking your neck with kisses and working down to your collar bone. His hands grazed over your breats, still covered by the soft material of your dress. While he was busy, your fingers began work on the buttons of his trousers. When he had finally kicked them off, you pushed him up so that you could sit up a little.

“I should lock the door and leave you in here for the rest of night. And tie you up for good measure.” You whispered, paraphrasing him from the first time you had done this.

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough to break anything you attempt to bind me with?” He grumbled, moving to kiss your neck again. You stopped him.

“I want to try something.” A look of wickedness set in your eyes.

“What is it?”

“Go sit.”

He decided to listen to your command, making himself comfortable at the head of your bed. Within the next moment, you were straddling him. Your dress had ridden up your thighs. Dracula’s cool hands grazed up to the material.

“Can I?” He asked softly.

“You don’t need permission, Drac. Use me however you wish. Do whatever you want.”

He groaned at your words. With one fluid movement, the dress was off and you were straddling him, completely bare. He sucked in a breath at the sight of you. Chest a little flushed, nipples already perked up for him, legs over his, your hot core not quite touching him.

“Shit.” He whispered, “what do you want to do, darling?”

“Has anyone ever ridden your thigh before?” You sighed back, willing yourself to be still. There was something else that you were interested in riding, however, you knew that you couldn’t. You wondered if he’d every tell you why.

“I don’t think they have, no.” He sounded like all of the breath had been stolen from him.

“First time for everything.”

You shrugged and then manuvered both him and yourself so that you were straddling his left thigh, but you still did not make contact. His hands moved down your body, making sure to quickly give both of your nipples attention before resting on your hips. Your pussy was already drooling. How, he had no clue. He had barely touched you.

“Do I turn you on that much?” He chuckled.

“No, anger does.”

And you sunk down. Dracula watched the way you threw your head back, biting your lip as you help back your whimper at the feeling. You had only done this once before, and with with your ex. His thighs had never been too big and it had been a little uncomfortable for you. Dracula however... sweet Jesus. Such an expanse of muscle, thick and hard like other things, you suspected. His coolness spread over you and you wiggled your hips to get used to the feeling. You didn’t think you ever would.

“Move.” He suddenly commanded, voice dark. You dare not disobey, rolling your hips slowly against his thigh. The friction was enough, sending little jolts through your clit. Within a matter of minutes, your juices were covering most of the front side of his thigh, dripping down on to the bedsheets that hadn’t been changed since you were seventeen. Pink with white hearts. So mature.

He was enchanted. He couldn’t believe he’d struck absolute gold. The way you moved against him, the heat you were providing had him hissing. He was straining against his boxers, but he was too busy watching every minuscule movement of your body to care.

Your hands flew to his shoulders to stabilise yourself and you quickened your pace. Pleasure was building with the constant friction and you gasped when Dracula decided to flex his thigh beneath you. Your hands slipped, head rolling onto his shoulder and he had to grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements. You were trembling with the sudden build of pleasure and your hands moved down his firm front, coming to rest on his bulge. You smirked, biting lightly on his shoulder as one hand slipped beneath the waistband.

His girth was heavy in your hand, the only part of him other than his mouth that was hot. Your fingers couldn’t quite reach all the way around and you wondered if he was scared of hurting and if that was why he wouldn’t just fuck you into oblivion.

“[First]-“ he cut himself off when your thumb ran over his slit, collecting the few beads of precum that had collected. He groaned.

“You were saying?” You began pressing soft kisses against his shoulder. He flexed his thigh in response, a horrid tremble racking over your body and you sighed into his shoulder. His fingers were going to leave bruises. You were certain of it.

“You don’t have to.” His own head lolled back to rest on the highest metal bar of your bed frame.

“I want to.”

Your hand began to slowly pump his length, which was most definitely proportionate to his 6’4” tall body. Just feeling him in your hand had a hot wave of your slick dribbling down his thigh. You were going to cum. He knew this, too, slipping one of his hands down between your legs to help stimulate your clit a little more. The extra coolness, the firm, quick circles he drew had your body trembling as your orgasm washed over you. You kept your hand on his cock, loving the heat and the feel of it. When you had rode your orgasm out, you removed your hand and peered up at him.

He groaned at the look of you. Cheeks pink, eyes blown with the utter horniness you were currently in the midst of, lips parted and plumped from all of the kisses.

“Drac,” you began, in a quiet purr, “I need to taste you.”

“No.” He breathed sharply.

“Why not?” You repositioned yourself on him, purposefully connecting your core to the bulge in his underwear. Your hands flew around his neck, the utter feeling of it making you shakily moan. Your slick began to soack through the material.

“Because...” he began, “fucking shit.” You kept moving lightly, loving the way it felt. He gripped your hips once more, holding you in place, “stop.” He groaned.

“Drac, I need you. So badly. You can’t keep denying me when all my body craves is you.”

Oh, his heart. Of course, all he wanted was to pin you down beneath him and fuck you so hard that you forgot your own name. He had driven himself crazy thinking of all the things he wanted to do to you. He’d given himself all sorts of grief wondering how well you’d fit together, stretching you out, feeling you take him like how you took his fingers. There was just one problem.

“I can’t,” he looked over your face, clearly upset himself at having to deny you something you both wanted, “I’ll be honest...” he took a breath.

“Tell me.”

“The last thing you want inside of you is undead sperm, darling.” He whispered, catching your neck in a kiss.

“Why is that? Surely it’s all the same?” Your body was beginning to ache for more.

“It’ll kill you, [First]. Either way it goes in, that’s it.”

“But you... Lucy...”

“Do you really think I cared if she lived?” He looked up at you, “I love you, [First]. I want no part in hurting you. Ever.”

“Then I just won’t swallow.”

Another groan left his lips. Had he known you were such a fox in the bedroom, he may have thought twice before falling utterly head over heels for you. What on Earth was he going to do with you?

You managed to get out of his grasp, pushing yourself backwards, simultaneously curling your fingers around the waistband of his boxers and tugging. He lifted his hips, knowing that you were going to be stubborn on this. His member sprang free, hitting his somach as it did so. Now, it was your turn to eye him up greedily. Once his boxers had met the fate of the rest of the clothes in the bedroom, you lowered yourself down to all fours to assess your options. Your mouth quite literally dropped in surprise. Dracula chuckled.

“Have you finally realised that you may be a little too big for your boots?” He teased.

“Jesus Christ, Drac, you’re too big for my damn boots.”

He burst into laughter.

Seriously, how the hell were you meant to do this?! You knew he’d be hung, because, well, he was so tall! And broad! But you didn’t expect him to be so...

“What is it? Like six inches?”

“Why would I know something like that? It’s not like I go around... measuring. But since you asked so nicely, seven and a half.”

“Typical man. You all need to know your dick sizes, don’t you? What do you do, compare in the bathroom?” You chuckled.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the stereotype that women congregate in bathrooms together?”

“Yeah but guys are obsessed with their cocks.” You rolled your eyes.

Before he could get another word out, you had suddenly moved forwards, licking a long, slow stripe from the base of his shaft and to the top. Hot and heavy on your tongue, you hummed, letting the vibrations rack through him. He gasped. You smirked, running your tongue over the tip, collecting a little more precum.

“Promise me you’ll stop before I release.”

You nodded.

“Wait,” you peered up at him, “can’t we just use a condom?”

“Absolutely not.” He answers sternly, “I’m most definitely only fucking you with nothing between us. I want to fill you up with my children, watch you overflow with my seed, bulge with my offspring. There’s no way in hell that I will do with any such thing preventing me from doing so.” His eyes darkened considerably as he spoke, dick twitching at the thought of fucking you full of his cum. You felt your juices spill from your cunt, between your thighs.

“You kinky motherfucker.”

His moan ripped through the room as you sucked him into your mouth, tongue swirling over his tip. Your jaw immediately ached with the stretch of accommodating him. You couldn’t help but giggle at his response to your mouth, the feeling of your laugh heightening the sudden pleasure.

He gazed down at you, unable to conceive that this moment was his reality. Locking eyes, you sucked more of him into your mouth, and whatever you couldn’t fit, you used your hands. Slowly, wanting to savour him, you began bobbing your head up and down. In all honesty, you were surprised he could even get hard, considering he had no pulse and no way for the blood to course his veins. His taste was pretty much the same as any other in the world. Salty, the bitter taste of his precum silencing the taste of the skin. But, because it was him, it was just a little more of an enjoyable taste.

Your tongue worked as your head bobbed and his fingers soon found their way tangling in your hair. He was wasting no time in controlling the pace and the depth of your movements. Slowly but surely, he was forcing your down more. Noises of his absolute and pure pleasure filled the room and your stomach was flipping. You were soaked and then some, feeling your juices almost flowing down your legs. You needed something on your core. Anything.

“You can take it,” he groaned, talking about his entire length down your throat.

You probably could. You’d definitely taken bigger during your post-breakup hookups. But you were still pissed at him. So you pulled off, coughing just a little to make it seem as though you truly couldn’t. He gazed at you.

“I’ve had enough.” You stated stoically.

“[First]?”

Truth be told, he panicked. Had he pushed you too far? You stood, facing away from the bed to let your grin of pure evil break out on to your features. Dracula was momentarily frozen in shock. He couldn’t believe he’d just-... his eyes caught your reflection in your TV and he suddenly grew just a little angry again.

You moved towards your dresser, leaning against it as you looked down at the wood, inspecting the groves. He picked himself up, prowling towards you. You gasped when his hands tugged at your hair, pulling your head backwards. He was looking down at you.

“Bitch.”

The sound of his hand connecting with your ass filled the room (and most likely the hallway, too), and you squeaked, arching your back more. He watched the way his smack rippled through your flesh.

“I wasn’t finished.” His mouth moved to your neck as his hand kneaded where he had just hit. He bit down hard on your scar, and you arched your back further, ass knocking into his dick. He hissed, “hand. Now.”

You offered him your hand and he lead it to his length. His other hand fell from your hair and moved to grasp your breast, pinching your nipple hard. Guiding your hand, he helped you to pleasure him and you turned in his arms, sinking to your knees. Taking both of your hands, you batted him away and leaned to drool all over the tip which was now blushing violently. He was close. Good. Wrapping your fingers tightly around him, you quickened your pace and he had to arch over you, gripping the edge of the dresser just to try and keep himself calm. As much as he had wanted these intimate moments to be sweet and loving, there was something in the anger that made this nasty, utterly fithy version feel phenomenal.

“Shit.” He growled through gritted teeth.

He twitched between your palms and you tipped your head back.

“What happens if it touches skin?” You inquired softly, slowing your movements for a moment.

“Nothing-“ he gasped, “don’t- don’t stop.”

His own voice stuttered and immediately, you picked up the pace. Oh, the growl that came from him as his hot seed shot out, soaking your chest in a sticky substance. It ignited your skin, a moan rippling from your own throat at the feeling of being covered in his cum.

When the strands stopped, and he began to grow flaccid in your hands, he took a step back to admire you. His seed was slowly seeping down your chest, over your breats, over your stomach.

With no hesitation, he picked you up and threw you back on to the bed, quickly settling between your legs.

“What a good little thing you’ve been for me. Look at you,” he meant your cunt, of course. You were soaked. Your legs gleamed with your juices, “all for me?”

“Every last drop.”

“Let me repay my debt.”

Your fingers balled the sheets the second his tongue darted out, trialling the taste of you. He groaned and went straight back for seconds. He lapped up your juices, circling your clit before moving back down towards the source of the sweetness coating his tongue. Thank god he read that book Lucy sent him on how much sex had changed, otherwise he would have never known bliss like his head being between your legs.

The feeling of his hot tongue giving your core much needed attention had you crying out. It didn’t matter that your parents were downstairs, or that Jack was most likely still here. Fuck them. You had a vampire eating you out like he was starving.

Your hands once again found their way to his hair and your hips began to move on their own accord. It had been so long since you had been in this situation, and the Count was most definitely outdoing every other person before him. He was devouring your cunt like a starving man and holy shit, nothing could ever amount to this. Your hips were quite literally jerking at the pleasure taking over your body.

Dracula’s hands moved to cup your ass and pulled you closer, prompting your legs to wrap around his head and hold him there. It only took a few more flicks of his tongue, a few more sucks on your clit before you let go, body trembling as your pussy contracted over nothing. More of your juices spilled and Dracula wasn’t quite done with you yet.

The hungry look he gave you when your legs finally released him had you rolling your head. You couldn’t go again. Your stomach was knotting.

He slid two fingers in with ease and the feeling of finally being full was enough for years to begin to stream down your face. The pleasure was growing too intense for your body to handle, but it seemed Dracula didn’t care anymore.

“I can’t-“ you panted, “I can’t go again.”

“Yes you can. You’re going to cum all over my fingers and prove to me who owns you.”

He began to thrust his fingers, loving the lewd sounds that filled the room. Your knuckles had turned white, your fingers curled. He was loving every second. His cum was drying on your chest now, becoming more visible as it stopped glistening. However, the sheen of sweat on your body gave you a heavenly glow.

Here you were, on the end of his fingers, eyes rolled back with the pleasure he was giving to you and you still managed to look like an angel. He breathed an amused sigh.

Your hips were grinding down into his fingers, you were spilling over his hand. Never had he met anyone quite like you... Who got this turned on by a vampire?

“Let’s see if I can just...” he trailed off, and when he pulled his fingers back, he inserted a third. The stretch didn’t burn due to the amount of lubrication you had created between your juices and his saliva. Instead, you felt even more pleasure, the stretch satisfying every thirst you’d had since... well, as long as you could remember being into the man currently using you.

“Drac-“ you whined through your tears, “please-!”

Though you weren’t explicit, Dracula knew your body all too well and bent down to press sweet and tantalising kisses to your clit. You whined, grinding onto his face and onto his fingers. Your stomach was burning with an ache of the overstimulation now and the orgasm that was building was going to be intense, you knew it.

Once again, his tongue worked on your clit and huge sparks of electricity coursed your body. His pumps grew faster and he widened the space between his fingers to stretch you even further. Your pussy was throbbing to release. It was so close. You squeezed your eyes shut, moans growing louder and higher.

“Holy shIT-!”

He pulled away as he felt a gush overcome his fingers. You clamped over his fingers so tightly as the most intense wave of pleasure came over you. He watched, mouth agape as the fluid squirted out, soaking the sheets below. Dracula held a smirk on his face. Your body convulsed as your orgasm continued to wash over you and a little more fluid gushed out. When you went limp, panting heavily, Dracula pulled his fingers out and couldn’t help but want to try the newest substance to come from your body.

It coated his tongue and...

“Well, now that’s better than blood.”

You laughed at his words, but the tightening of your stomach due to overstimulation made you “ow.” The realisation hit you that you had literally screamed down the entire house as Dracula had mouth and finger fucked you and you continued to laugh despite the intense pain in your gut. Dracula moves to your side, curling into you and laughing into your neck.

Breakfast was going to be awkward as fuck.

~^taglist in the reblog sorry^~

[cynicalrainbows]

So the very lovely @shut-up-heather-d requested some headcanons for TNBT featuring Kitty and Jane or Catalina and Anna and I didn’t get round to it yesterday because I’m useless but hopefully they’re still enjoyable, even if they are a day late!

Catalina and Anna

Catalina obviously gets to know Anne more quickly and easily because she’s Cathy’s best friend and she’d already heard a bit about her before Cathy started living with her BUT she also gets very invested and interested in Anna too, partly because she’s terrified that Cathy’s jealousy of her is going to lead to her doing or saying something REALLY bitchy one day and she’ll have to smooth it over and everyone at the school will judge Catalina for being a Bad Guardian but ALSO because she utterly empathises with the feeling of being the New Person who is sort of on the fringes. So she’s sympathetic to Anna anyway and then after the sleepover, she is just also very very grateful to Anna and decides she is going to do everything she can to encourage this friendship because Anna is clearly A Good Egg. (That’s a phrase Catalina definitely wouldn’t use but....I have a compulsion to use it here. So it’s staying.)

To that end, she makes sure to let Cathy know that Anna is very much welcome if Catalina ends up having Anne over, and she sometimes asks Cathy how Anna is doing with fitting in at a new school. And generally she does pretty well because she’s Cool and Nice and Fun. 

Of course there’s always one bitch of a parent- one of the Dad’s is a Farage supporter (because there’s always one) and he goes off to his kid about ‘EU immigrants taking all the jobs’ and then this gets repeated at school and then some other kids join in because....well, it’s raining and they can’t play out so this is a fair second. Anne and Cathy do their best to defend Anna (who makes a valiant effort to defend herself too until it becomes Too Much because actually she sort of does want to go home still? And being TOLD to but not being able to is horrible) but they don’t have an amazing understanding of what’s being said so the kid with the awful Dad ends up sort of getting the better of them, until Anne ends it all by throwing a chair at them. 

That does shut them up. 

Cathy comes home from school boiling with rage at the injustice and at how Anne got into trouble and how even the teacher who told the mean kids off ended up talking to Anna too about ‘fitting in’ and ‘ignoring them’ and how now Anna is really miserable and saying how much she hates being here and how everyone back home is MUCH nicer. 

Catalina decides she’s going to try and help- so she calls the school to let them know that she knows what’s going on (and her opinion of how it was dealt with) and then she has Cathy ask Anna over to play without Anne. Once she’s over, Catalina manufactures a reason for Caty to be out of the room for a bit and then she asks Anna a bit about what she’s been going through. Anna is a bit wary of telling her anything because....well, she’s just this random adult who she’s never talked much to before, but Catalina tells her about how she’s gone through the same thing, how she knows what it’s like. 

Anna breaks down with the guilt- about how she’s being blamed for stuff she doesn’t understand and how much she misses home and then how she feels like she’s not allowed to admit it for fear of seeming ungrateful, and Catalina is VERY reassuring and validating and lets her know that she’s allowed to miss whatever she wants and how she absolutely doesn’t deserve to be harassed by mini xenophobes. Anna really enjoys having a grown up who isnt her parents actually understand and Catalina tells her that she’ll have a chat with Anna’s Mum and that if Anna ever wants to talk to her more about it, she can. 

Anna’s Mum is so grateful for Catalina’s intervention because now Anna has an adult who can not only empathise but also give actual advice AND that Anna doesn’t have to worry about upsetting, and so Anna sort of gets into the habit of calling Cathy and Catalina whenever she’s having a hard time. 

She comes over to play sometimes and she and Cathy and Catalina (and sometimes Anne too) make traditional German deserts and Anna finds the tv shows she misses from home online and it just helps her settle in better. As she acclimatises, she stops calling so much but she and Catalina still have a sort of understanding that Catalina is there if she needs her, in a capacity as more than just ‘Cathy’s godmother’ and it’s all very pure and wholesome.

Jane and Kitty

Jane does everything she can to try to give Kitty the validation and attention that she misses out on- she knows that while Anne’s extroverted nature means she doesn’t get overlooked often, Kitty just sort of blends into the background and people go between either treating her like a toddler and not expecting ANYTHING of her (because she’s four and it’s pretty much always easier to dothings for a four year old than to have them do it themselves) OR they randomly expect her to be able to do things she’s never tried or practised before because ‘that’s what normal kids are doing’. So Jane tries very very hard to give Kitty a space where she can try things and make mistakes and (most importantly) not be punished or blamed for it. She’ll spend forty minutes waiting for Kitty to choose her clothes and dress herself independently because she knows it’s something she needs to be able to do and the only way to learn is to practise. She doesn’t ignore her or anything- she stays right there and is wildly encouraging but she makes Kitty do it herself and makes a big thing out of how only really, really clever big girls can do up all the buttons on their cardigan by themselves and doesn’t Kitty want to show Pink Kitty how clever she is? She also praises her extravagantly for asking to do a thing by herself because she knows she really needs to nurture Kitty’s independence before it’s crushed out of her entirely.

For things like chores also she’ll have Kitty help her as much as possible, even when it DOES mean she has to then secretly go and re do it later. She makes a little apron for Kitty to wear for chores (not because it’s needed but because dressing up just makes everything more bearable) and a slightly bigger one for Anne (who fully gets into a the spirit and likes to pretend that she’s a poor Victorian servant girl being cruelly overworked by her mistress, like Sara Crewe, or an orphan like Annie- and of course Jane indulges her too and will threaten Anne with all sorts of dramatic, hilarious punishments while she sets her to tasks) and a very tiny one for Pink Kitty. Anne’s Mum simultaneously HATES that the girls are being encouraged to do chores like ‘the help’ but also despairs that their bedroom is a mess.

When Jane makes them breakfast or dinner or whatever, Kitty gets her portion and then Pink Kitty gets a tiny portion on a saucer. (When Kitty is brought to Catalina’s, Silver Kitty sometimes gets brought to the table too and is given a crumb-sized portion as well on a plate made from a 5p.)

Jane does all she can to normalise Kitty’s situation for her- she doesn’t want Kitty to feel eithe pressured to feign love and adoration for a mother she never met OR to feel like it’s a secret. She keeps telling Anne’s Mum not to freak out when Kitty gets confused and calls Anne’s Mum ‘Mummy’- she reminds her again and again that it’s just that she’s four and she’s copying Anne and to just gently correct her and move on, and that no, Kitty getting bored when they visit Jocasta’s grave isn’t a horrible sign of her being an uncaring child, it’s just that she’s too little to really get it. She is so looking forward to when Kitty is old enough to actually hear proper stories of Jocasta but for now she doesn’t want to push things.

She is awful for changing the ending of books and turning off films if she thinks they’re getting too scary. Anne didn’t even KNOW Harry Potter was anything other than ‘fun story about wizard boarding school’ until Cathy asked her whether she was scared of Voldemort. Kitty meanwhile has NO idea that there is an extra Mog book where Mog dies- as much as Jane knows that it’s an excellent and child friendly explanation of death, she can’t even think about it without crying herself. Eventually, she gets Catalina to read it to Kitty (Catalina tears up herself but she hides it better; Kitty is fooled, Cathy less so.)

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone: Chapter Six

Title: Subway trolls and pancakes

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y , @innerpaperexpertcloud , @alievans007 , @tragiclyhip​

They stop at the closest bodega for a cup of take out coffee and a carton of chocolate milk, then hand in hand navigate the snowy sidewalks on their brief jaunt to the subway. Tanner is excited about their morning out. Words rapidly leaving his lips as all his pent up thoughts come spilling out; sentences running together and often making little to no sense as several different topics messily mix together. But Tyler lets him get it out. Tanner often very quiet and shy and finding himself lost in the chaos of their home; unable to get a word in edgewise at times and then finding himself growing more and more frustrated. It always leads to a meltdown; tears and screaming hyperventilating and sometimes even the odd destructive episode. The latter hasn’t happened in a long time; both his parents and Tanner himself recognizing the triggers and the warning signs and able to calm him down before things escalate that far. It’s been a journey to say the least; learning how to both handle and help a kid like Tanner. Specialists and fellow parents of children with Autism and autistic adults themselves have been extremely helpful; they’ve found the strategies that aid him the best and in turn, help him thrive. Music therapy and appointments disguised as play, sensory items that provide him with the ‘break’ that he needs when overwhelmed, deep pressure applied with hugs and weighted blankets and vests. It’s a whole new world that has been both overwhelming and rewarding. Tanner isn’t the only one that’s being helped. It’s an adjustment for the entire family and everyone has had to make changes and sacrifices. But it’s also been a positive thing. What could have broken a marriage has actually made it stronger; working as a team and discovering just how strong and determined the other is and witnessing what lengths they’ll go to help their family thrive under even the most difficult of circumstances.

Tanner is a gift. An extra special one. In a way that his siblings aren’t. He’s opened their eyes to an entirely different existence, bringing out the depths of their patience and compassion. He’s beautiful and intelligent; the depths of his knowledge and information stored away inside that little brain simply profound. And talented; cooking and baking, drawing, playing the guitar and singing. But he DOES struggle. Anything social is a challenge for him; extreme difficulty in making friends, becoming extremely shy and withdrawn and even scared if a stranger approaches him for even the smallest of chit chat. And his fears and triggers are numerous; thunderstorms, needles, too much noise and conversation going on around him at once, the sudden and sharp clattering of dishes, the seams inside clothes. Things that most people would never even notice, are extremely heightened for him. And while most are easily recognized and identifiable and the entire family goes out of their way to accommodate him when possible, new issues seem to arise every day.

But the subway is one of his favourite places. The dark tunnels don’t faze him, nor does the crowd of people during the more busy times. And when the noises become too much he knows to simply put on a pair of sounds cancelling headphones and then concentrate on something else; whether it be a book he’s brought along of a sketch pad or even games and videos on one of his parents’ phones.

This morning he’s in his glory; kneeling on the seat beside Tyler, nose pressed against the window as he stares out into the darkness. The subway is quiet; people choosing to stay in after the snowstorm or already flooding earlier trains in hopes of beating the masses that will flock to malls and boutiques to complete their Christmas shopping. While extremely advanced intellectually speaking, he’s a lot younger in other ways; social skills and emotional maturity putting him around the level of a five or six year old. The difference is most apparent when he’s with his twin; TJ becoming older and wiser with each passing day while Tanner struggles to get to the level at Declan -or even Brooklyn and Takota- functions at. And he’s much smaller than his older brother as well; gifted with his mother’s height and slender body and some of her petite features. But there’s never any problem recognizing the Rake in him. The facial expressions and mannerisms and that Australian accent that he’s developed; much thicker and stronger than any of his siblings.

“Dad?” Tanner pipes up from beside him, one hand tightly gripping the top of the seat while the other keeps a firm hold on his chocolate milk; stomach pressed against the back of the seat, his father’s arm wrapped tightly around his middle.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the subway trolls are real? Do you think they exist?”

“Subway trolls??”

“Remember the subway trolls? TJ talked about them during the summer. When we came here to visit Ovi. About how there’s trolls living down here. Do you think it’s true? Do you think there’s really trolls down here?”

“Something tells me that’s something your brother made up: to freak Takota out. He had nightmares for three weeks after that.”

“Everytime we come on the subway, I try looking for trolls. But it’s dark and the train is fast and I can’t really see ANYTHING. But it could be true, yeah? There really could be trolls. They could exist.”

“Trolls aren’t real. It’s just something that people made up. A long time ago. They just exist in movies and books. Like in The Lord of The Rings.”

A look of visible disgust appears on Tanner’s face. “Those are Orcs. NOT trolls.”

“Same thing.”

“No, dad. They’re not. You need to read the books again. Orcs and trolls are NOT the same. I mean, they’ve evil, but orcs aren’t much stronger than humans. Trolls have superhuman strength. Plus, they’re HUGE. Orcs are just the size of normal people. Even mummy knows this stuff.”

“That’s because mummy is a nerd.”

“She’s not a nerd! She’s very smart. In a lot of different things. She even speaks three languages. You only speak one.”

“I speak two. English and profanity.”

“Swearing is NOT a language.”

“You’re right, it’s not. It’s an art form.”

“You do have A LOT of swears in your vocabulary. It’s pretty impressive; that you know that many bad words. You know twenty different ways to say the F word. That’s cool. You’re smart in your way and mumma is smart in hers. Is that why you fell in love with her? ‘Cause of how smart she is?”

“It was one of the reasons.”

“I wanna meet a girl one day. Like mum. Mum is super cute and tiny and really funny. She makes me laugh a lot. And she’s got a really nice, kind smile and pretty eyes.”

“Yeah, she does. She’s pretty special, huh?”

“She is,” Tanner smiles.. “You’re a lucky guy, daddy. She loves you a whole bunch. I see it in her eyes, you know. They get all sparkly and shiny when she sees you. Like yesterday when you got home. As soon as you got out of the cab, her entire face changed. Her cheeks got rosy and she had a huge smile and her eyes were shiny. Like she was going to cry but not crying eyes at the same time. I want to meet a girl like mummy. Then I’d be lucky too.”

“You would,” Tyler agrees. “You’d be the luckiest guy on the face of the earth.”

“I’ll ask mummy about the trolls. When we get home. She might know. She lived here before. Maybe she’s seen one. That would be so freaking awesome.”

“Something tells me that mummy hasn’t seen a subway troll. Something also tells me they don’t exist.”

“Why you say that?”

“Have you ever seen one? I’ve never seen one.”

“Just because we don’t see things, doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I haven’t seen a lot of things, but I know they’re real.”

“That’s a very good point, actually.”

A sudden pout appears on Tanner’s face; entire body stiffening. “I don’t like this part of the ride. It gets really noisy and extra dark here. Can I sit on your lap now? You make me feel safe.”

Nodding, he places the backpack sitting on his lap between his feet. It contains everything the ten year old could need during the time out; headphones, weighted lap pad, various fidget items, an extra sweater that’s a size too small but Tanner enjoys wearing because it’s ‘tight and feels like a hug’. Scooping his son off the seat next to him and settles him on his thighs; Tanner wrapping both arms around his neck and sliding his body forward in order to have that comfort of body against body. And he slips his hand up the back of the little one’s jacket, hoodie, and t-shirt; giving him that press of a warm, soothing palm against his bare skin.

“I don’t like this part, daddy,” Tanner whimpers, and tightens the hold on his dad’s neck. “It’s scary.”

“It’s okay, mate. I got you. You’re fine. Close your eyes; I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

“Alright,” he squeezes his eyes shut as tight as he can. “I trust you.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”

“I know you won’t. But it’s still scary.”

“Nothing to be scared of,” Tyler assures him, and presses his lips to his temple; the end of his nose resting against the side of Tanner’s head as he speaks to him in a low, quiet voice. “Nothing can hurt you. Ever.”

“Not when you’re here. You won’t let anything hurt me.”

“Anything or anyone. You’re alright, mate. Just breathe. It’s almost over. Just a couple more minutes. Why don’t you tell me about some of your dreams? The ones you were writing about? Tell me some of them and I’ll read the rest. I want to hear about them.”

“Okay,” Tanner takes a deep, shaky breath, but keeps his eyes screwed shut as he launches into a recap of one of his many dreams.

Tyler’s not sure how many of these dreams are actually real; they’re vivid and often far beyond Tanner’s level of maturity. And he often wonders if it’s just tales the ten year old has conjured up in his own mind; a very detailed and colourful imagination that is often underused AND under appreciated. But he never questions their validity or ‘tunes out’ when his son is sharing his stories; letting him indulge in that little fantasy world of his where things probably seem a lot easier to handle and cope with. And it gives Tanner a sense of confidence and pride in himself; knowing how well he can both tell a tale and how well received it is by the one person he’s always so eager to please and make proud of him.

Today the dreams are about dragons and sea life. Two very distinct ‘dreams’; the first consisting of Tanner being the brave and noble knight that saves the princess and an entire kingdom from an untimely demise. The second he’s an underwater explorer; making friends with all the marine creatures and building a completely self-sustaining and livable underwater habitat for both humans and sea life. And he sees the way people around them react to both Tanner’s story telling and the gentle and calm way Tyler deals with him; the smiles and the comments about how ‘cute it is’ and even the praises of ‘it’s nice to see a daddy out with the little ones’.

“Is it done yet?” Tanner inquires, as the last of his final tale leaves his lips. “Are we past the scary part?”

“Yup. All done.”

“Good,” he heaves a sigh of relief. “But can I still stay here? Can I still stay on your lap?”

“You can stay there as long as you want, Nug.”

“I love you daddy. Thank you.”

“No worries, mate. I love you too.” He removes the hand from underneath Tanner’s clothing and briefly lays it on the back of his head; placing a kiss to his cheek before wrapping his arm around his waist. Even THAT’s been a learning process; expressing emotion and talking about feelings and showing affection. He’d grown up not being allowed to do any of those things; his father only beating him more savagely if he cried or begged for him to stop or if he cried over the loss of his mother. Meeting and marrying someone that craves both giving and receiving affection had been a real eye opener; showing him just how badly the old man had screwed him up both physically and mentally.

“Nug?”

“Yeah?”

“I gotta ask you something.”

“About what?”

“Mummy.”

“I don’t know what she wants for Christmas. She says ‘nothing’ EVERY year.”

“I already got that all figured out. This is about something else.”

“Okay. What is the something else?”

“When I was gone, did mummy seem sad?”

“Mummy is always sad when you go away. She misses you.”

“But did she seem extra sad, maybe? Did it seem like she was having a hard time with me being gone? A harder time than usual?”

“Maybe a little. I mean, she was really sad. She did cry a few times. And locked herself in the pantry once. But that’s ‘cause Millie was being mean and driving her nuts. I pushed tissues under the door; so mummy could wipe her face and blow her nose. We all get snotty when we cry.”

“I’m glad you help mommy out. Especially when she’s sad. You’ve always been good at that; helping take care of her. What about at night? Anything go on at night? Maybe you were supposed to be sleeping and you heard some things? Maybe mummy really upset and crying hard extra hard or…?”

“I snuggled with her a couple nights. On the couch. Because she said she said she couldn’t sleep and that she was feeling lonely. I went down to get a snack. I know I shouldn’t have; that I’m not allowed downstairs by myself in the middle of the night. I’m sorry, daddy. I was hungry though and mummy wasn’t in your room and I went looking for her. She was eating ice cream out of the container and watching Sex and the City. Are you mad? That I went downstairs by myself?”

“No, mate. I’m not. You went looking for mum, right?”

“Yeah, because I was hungry and I knew she would make me a snack. She always makes me an English muffin. Toasted. With a piece of cheese and two slices of tomato on it. With pepper sprinkled on top. And when I couldn’t find her upstairs, I got worried. So I went looking for her. We had snacks and she let me have some ice cream and then we snuggled on the couch watching Sponge Bob. I stayed up until she fell asleep, and then I went and got the big blanket of your bed and your pillow and took them downstairs and tucked mommy in. Then I went back to bed. Once I knew she was really fast asleep and comfortable. I gave her a goodnight kiss. Three, actually. Two on the lips, one of the forehead. Like you do. You always kiss her on the forehead.”

“You are a good son, Nug. A great son. That loves his mumma very much.”

“She’s the best mummy in the whole world. If I could pick mummies, I’d pick her above everyone else. Because she loves me no matter what. She doesn’t care that I’m different. That my brain doesn’t work like everyone else’s. She just loves me. No questions asked. Just like I love her no matter what. Even when she gets mad and yells. But I don’t like when she cries. It makes my heart hurt.”

“Was she crying a lot? While I was gone? More than she’s ever cried before?”

“I guess. TJ and I could hear her the first couple of nights. Crying in the bedroom. We were going to see if she was okay, but we didn’t want to get in trouble. Takota and Brookie went in though and slept with her. She seemed okay in the morning. She likes when we come in to cuddle. She doesn’t like the big bed all to herself.”

“Did she say anything to you? About me being gone?”

“Not to me. But I heard her talking to Desi. He came over every night to check on her and make sure she didn’t need anything. I heard her saying how worried she was about you. That she was scared something would happen and she’d never see you again. That she’d already almost lost you twice before and that she couldn’t take it a third time. Desi tried to talk her down; told her everything would be okay and that you’d be home before she knew it.”

“That was it? The whole thing you heard?”

“Most of it. She also said that she’s never loved anyone the way that she loves you. That you couldn’t ever possibly understand how much she does. That you saved her. In every way someone can be saved.”

“She said that?”

Tanner nods, then reaches inside Tyler’s jacket and pulls out the wool beanie he’d put in one of the pockets for safe keeping. “Will you help me when my glasses fog up?” he asks, and he yanks the hat down onto his head. “They always fog up when we go out in the cold.”

“I will help you.”

“And over the really high snowbanks?”

“I’m going to toss you in those. Have to call someone to dig you out.”

“Daddy…” he crosses his arms over his chest and stares at him pointedly. “...that’s not very nice.”

“I would never do that to you. TJ, yeah. You? Never.”

“You know…” Tanner scrambles off his lap as the train begins its final approach to their station, then curls all of his fingers around three of his father’s “...if I got to pick daddies, I’d pick you.”

Tyler smiles down at his son. “You would, would you?”

Tanner nods. “In a heartbeat.”

*****

Breakfast is a success. A small diner in Battery Park that Tanner had found online three years ago; spending hours online searching for the best pancake spots in New York City and reading all of the reviews and browsing all the menus. He’s very detail oriented. Choosing places to eat and shop on not just popularity and the items being offered, but on the way the food appears in pictures; a keen eye for attractive colour palettes and neat and tidy -and appealing- presentation. He’d put so much research and time into it that Tyler hadn’t had the heart to tell him that maybe somewhere closer to home would be a better fit; no ‘scary’ trips on the subway meant less crowds and noise and almost assured no sensory meltdowns which in turn, would mean an extremely hard day for Tanner. Once something is ‘set off’, he remains on edge and anxious for hours; the mere stress of his brain going into overload causing him to be destructive and aggressive. The latter is always directed at himself; yanking his hair out, banging his head off walls, scratching himself until he bleeds. And while it’s always a worry that something will spark the behaviour, they’ve become better at recognizing the warning signs; identifying triggers and able to remove him from a situation before it becomes too much for him to bear.

The morning had gone well. Tanner had been talkative and cheerful; uncharacteristically engaging with the waitress and carrying on conversations -albeit brief, as too much chatter and eye contact make him extremely uncomfortable- with fellow diners. He’d only had difficulties twice. Needing his weighted lap pad and some fidget toys when the wait for food was longer than expected, and a flight to his father’s lap when a larger group of diners came in and their voices were needlessly loud and obnoxious. A tight as possible embrace and encouraging and comforting words whispered had quickly soothed him, but he’d still insisted on staying perched on his dad’s thighs while he finished the remains of his breakfast.

After a quick trip to the Cartier store -a little something for mummy as a form of both apology and an excuse to spoil her- and to pick up some novels to read at Tanner’s favourite used book store, they returned home and onto the final ‘event’ of the morning; time spent at the private park. It’s cold and the wind brutal, but Tanner is in his element; loving the way he can ‘crash’ into the snowbank at the bottom of the slide, tend to building his own snowman without interference from his well meaning but way too hyper younger siblings, and time on the swings. And while he has two of his own hanging from the ceiling in his bedroom, he prefers being outside; leaning as far back as he can and staring up at the sky. It’s gray and dreary today, but he’s in his glory; catching snowflakes on his tongue and giggling the entire time.

That laugh -one he’d inherited from his mother- is more than enough to tolerate the frigid temperatures; a hot cup of coffee and the hat and gloves Esme had both nagged him about taking along -and had resorted to shoving into the pockets of his coat before he stepped out the door- enough to stave off the chill. And he’s leaning back against the wrought iron fence and sipping the strong brew -two shots of espresso helping to fight off the lingering exhaustion from jet lag- when the gate to the park swings open. It’s a highly controlled and private area. Only those who live in Gramercy Park have access; given keys when they take up residence. And while he isn’t necessarily worried about the stranger joining them, that old inkling of hyper-vigilance never fails to make an appearance when he spots an unfamiliar face. It’s the years spent on the job; burning bridges and stepping on toes and making a lot of enemies along the way. Revenge is par for the course; dirtbags sticking up for other dirtbags and seeking vengeance for fellow drug lords, rapists, murders, child predators. The list is vast and seemingly endless; he’s gone up against the lowest of the low and somehow lived to tell about.

The worry is always there; that someone will come looking for him and then use his greatest weaknesses to destroy him. It’s why he’s extra careful now; willing to do anything in his power to keep his family safe. Five years ago had been bad enough; if word got back to the wrong people that it was his business employing the mercenaries sent to clean up messes, the result wouldn’t be pretty. Far more devastating and widespread than what happened at the hands of Mahajan and Asif’s remaining people. And while he highly doubts that the woman and child stepping through the gate pose a threat, his brain immediately tends to think of the worst. Especially when one of his children -arguably the most vulnerable of them all- is with him. But he manages a polite smile in the woman’s direction, then shuffles his weight from foot to foot when she approaches; an attempt to keep warm and his discomfort at the idea of having to be social. It was one of the things that sold on him buying the brownstone; no one bothered with him and likewise didn’t seem to give a shit that he mostly stuck to himself.

“It’s amazing how they can stand being out like this,” she comments, as she sidles up next to him.

It’s way too close his own comfort; the sleeve of her fur lined coat brushing against him. He sidesteps; putting just enough space between them to let her know she’s invading his space, yet enough to come across a complete asshole. She’s new to the area; a face he hadn’t seen last Christmas or during the month they’d spent in the Big Apple over the past summer. Tall and slender; shoulder length blond hair sticking the bottom of the black and gray knit beanie and too much make up on her face.

“My daughter LOVES the snow,” she continues, nodding in the direction of the little girl attempting to make conversation with Tanner. It can go either of three ways; Tanner acknowledging her presence and actually speaking in return, completely ignoring her and acting as if she doesn’t even exist, or he’ll be so anxious that he’ll flee to his father’s side for comfort. “It’s why she took moving here so well; used to the weather in Utah I guess. I’m Natalie,” she offered a slender hand encased in a lambskin glove.

“Tyler. You just moved here?”

“Couple weeks ago. Took a job with Goldman Sachs. I’ve always wanted to live here, mind you. A dream going back to my childhood; Central Park, Broadway shoes, shopping at Bergdorfs. A lot of stuff on my to do list. Your accent; you’re a long way from home.”

“Our second place is here. Kids love coming to stay. Especially during the winter. They love having a white Christmas.”

“Must be a change. Going from somewhere hot and sunny to this. Why go from the ocean and the sand to snow and slush? And most of all, why New York City?”

“My wife spent some time here. Fell in love with it. Always wanted to get back. And our oldest lives here. In Queens. He’s in his first year of med school.”

“You have a kid old enough to have done four years of undergrad and is now in med school?”

Tyler nods. There’s no need for specifics. No reason to tell a complete stranger about Ovi and his background and how he’d wound up going from Mumbai to Colorado and then onto Australia. That part of their lives is firmly rooted in the past; Dhaka, Asif, Mahajan Senior. And it’s not something either of them enjoy revisiting. The years have gone by excruciatingly slow; leaving mountains of mental and physical issues behind. “I’ve got grandkids too.”

“Seriously?”

“Two of them. Boy and a girl. Three and eight months.”

“You’re a grandpa?”

“As much as I hate being called that, yeah. I am.”

“Makes you feel old? Being called that?”

“Just thinking about it makes me feel old.” He takes a swig of coffee; watching as Tanner abandons his snowman and his new playmate in favour of returning to the swings. The ten year old is doing better than expected; not growing agitated or anxious when the little girl immediately follows him and once more attempts to make conversation.

“How old is he?”

“Ten. Eleven next month.”

“He’s shy. Or he’s already playing hard to get when it comes to girls.”

“He has Autism. Aspergers. It’s one of the things he struggles with; making friends.”

“I’m sorry, it must be hard. It must be…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I mean, look at him. He’s healthy. He’s happy for the most part. He’s beautiful. He’s a good kid. A REALLY good kid. We’re lucky to have him.”

“And are those your only two? The med student and him? Quite the age gap.”

“Actually, I have six more at home.”

Natalie’s eyes widen. “You have eight kids?”

“I do. Well, technically the oldest one isn’t mine. Not by blood. We took him in when he was fifteen. But I do have six more at home.”

“All biological?”

Tyler nods.

“All with the same mother?”

“Every last one of them.”

“I don’t know whether you’re crazy or brave. Or a mix of both.”

“Guess that’s up for debate. It’s a pretty full house.”

“God help the woman who got pregnant SEVEN times.”

“It was actually only five times. We have two sets of twins. Ten and five.”

“Wow,” Natalie laughs. “That’s quite the brood. You don’t see that very often these days; big families like that.”

“Once we started, we couldn’t stop I guess. We were supposed to be done at four, but…”

“Things happened.”

“That’s one way of putting it. You said you just moved here?”

“Number thirty-three. You?”

“Eleven.”

“The one right on the corner? With the two dogs? A shepherd and a…”

“Australian shepherd. Mac and Saju. Two major pains in the ass.”

“They love to stand on the couch. Look out the front window. My daughter always waves to them. She keeps hoping one day they’ll be outside. So she can meet them.”

“They’re standing on the couch because they like to spy on the neighbours. And growl and bark at the squirrels. They’re used to koalas and kangaroos. Not squirrels. They’re not the brightest, but they’re loyal.”

“I walked by the other day and when I saw all the kids out front, I thought it might be a daycare. That was a nanny with them? Cute little thing with dark hair. Didn’t look old enough to be their mom.”

“That IS their mom,” he confirms. “My wife is very tiny and cute. And I agree; she does NOT look old enough to have that many kids.”

“It would be nice to meet some of the other families around here. There aren't many with young kids, so it was a relief to see people at the park. My daughter’s always looking for new friends.”

“Well, she’s got a lot to choose from at our house, that’s for sure. I don’t think the wife would mind if you popped by. She’s the social butterfly. Complete opposite of me.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be holding your own in this conversation. A little gruff at times and straight to the point, but…”

“This is me on my best behaviour. It doesn’t get any better.”

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “I think it’s perfectly fine how it is.”

Smirking, he downs the remains of his coffee and tosses it in the nearby trash. It’s a line that’s been crossed. Not appreciating little smiles and flirtatious comments and the insistent way she keeps stepping even closer to him; not realizing that he grows more agitated and uncomfortable each time he moves away. It’s annoying; unwanted attention even AFTER you’ve told someone that you’re married. Most women -and some men- seem to take it as a challenge; an extra thrilling chase to land someone that’s declared themselves unavailable. And maybe it’s worked for them before; landing a guy that claims to be happily married and getting him to abandon all his morals and betray the one person he’s supposed to love more than life itself. But that sure as hell ISN’T him. He doesn’t need or want anyone else. Perfectly content to spend the rest of his existence with just one person; happy to wake up to the same face every day, kiss the same lips and make love to the same body , and hear the same voice and laugh.

“Daddy!” Tanner calls as he bounds through the snow; wrapping both arms around one of Tyler’s thighs. “Can we go now? I’m getting cold. And I miss mum.”

“Yeah, we can go. I bet she misses you too.”

“Hey there, cutie.” Natalie smiles, and crouches down to the little boy’s level.

“No,” Tanner shakes his head and slides behind Tyler, hiding himself behind his father’s legs. “Please don’t.”

“He doesn’t like eye contact. Not with people he doesn’t know. Scares him. It’s okay, Nug.” Reaching behind his body, he lays a hand on the back of Tanner’s head and gently pushes; encouraging him to come out of hiding. “Don’t be nervous. I’m right here. Nothing’s going to happen. Just people trying to meet you. Wanting to be friends.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. Just someone being nice. Can you come on out? At least say hi? There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Come on…” he lifts one leg, allowing Tanner to slip between them. “...can you just say hi? I won’t ask for more than that.”

Tanner nods, both arms once more wrapping around his father’s thigh; body leaning into him, needing that comfort and support. “Hi.”

"I’m not trying to scare you, I promise,” Natalie says. “Just trying to make friends. What’s your name?”

Tanner glances up at his dad. Looking for reassurance. And permission.

“It’s okay. You can tell her.”

He looks back at the woman in front of him. “Tanner.”

“How old are you?”

“Ten. Almost eleven.”

“I hear you have a lot of brothers and sisters.”

He nods. “I have a twin. He’s older than I am. His name’s Tyler. Like daddy.”

“And is he as handsome? As you and daddy?”

“I don’t know. I guess. He’s really tall. And strong. Like daddy. He’s almost taller than mummy already!”

“Well your mum’s pretty tiny,” Tyler reasons, and straightens out Tanner’s scarf and hat; pulling the beanie down over the tops of his ears. “Speaking of mum, want to go see her?”

“Yeah,” Tanner nods enthusiastically. “I wanna see her. I miss her. I want to give her a hug. And her goodies. We got mum her favourites,” he addresses Natalie. “Mummy loves croissants. From a certain place. So daddy and I took the subway to get them. And he got her something really nice. From a really expensive jewellery store. There was lots of sparkly stuff in there. Mummy likes sparkly stuff but never lets daddy buy her any. She says he spoils her too much.”

Natalie smiles. I’m sure your mom deserves to be spoiled.”

“Oh, she definitely does. She’s the best mummy. And the prettiest. She puts up with a lot. Especially from Millie. That’s my oldest sister. She’s a bitch.”

Tyler frowns. “Tanner….”

“I’m just sayin’. Millie is really mean. She’s almost a teenager. That’s why. They get mean at that age. Girls. That’s what daddy says.”

“And on that note,” Tyler chuckles. “I think we should go home. You’re gonna wanna pee soon, aren’t ya.”

“Yeah. And you can’t drop your pants and go in the bushes here. Wayyyy too cold. I got snow in my boot. My sock is wet. I can’t walk in wet socks.”

“You could if you wanted to. It’s like a hundred feet away.”

“Naw. I don’t like it. The feeling. My foot is cold. And wet. My sock is too squishy.”

“You’re demanding.” Scooping Tanner up with one hand, he settles him on his hip, then reaches for the bags he’d hung earlier on the rungs of the fence. “Ready to go? Go and see and mummy?”

“Ready, Freddy. I’m hungry.”

“Me too.”

“You’re ALWAYS hungry. Giants eat a lot. Bye” ! Tanner waves a mitten in farewell in Natalie’s direction. “I like your hat, by the way. I like the panda bear pin on it. It’s sparkly. And I like panda bears.”

“Well, I like your glasses. You’re awful cute, you know that.”

“Cute like daddy, smart like mummy,” Tanner declares, as he curls an arm around his dad’s neck. “Bye new friend!”

“Bye, kiddo. You be good. Although something tells me you always are.”

Tanner giggles. “You’ll change your mind once you get to know me. I can be really annoying.”

“Something tells me you’re more cute than annoying.”

“Just you wait,” he singsongs, and then gives one final wave before being carried out the gate.

[mollyhw14]

Fallen Angel: Tied to the Devil's Daughter - Haechan / Lee Donghyuk fic (demon au) ♛ CH3 ♛

Haechan made himself comfortable in the seat where Renjun had just been, checking to see that was okay with everyone, earning a small nod from Mark.

"I didn't know you were friends with Renjun, Haechan?" Mark asked, looking at the boy curriously with sudden interest.

"Yeh I've not him for a few years now we used to go to the same dance academy outside of school!" Haechan answered, looking a bit awkward, not used to the attention.

"Wait how on earth do you two know each other?" Phina motioned to the two boys, sending her brother a confused look.

"Oh, well um... I volunteer at where he stays." Mark said lowly, hesitantly looking at Haechan's reaction, confusing Phina even more.

"I thought you volunteered at an orphanage?" Cheonsa piped up from the side of the Haechan, also interested in the conversation.

"Um... yeah...." Mark scratched the back of his head, clearly not wanting to carry on the conversation further. Luckily, to Haechan's relief, Renjun was back with the drinks.

"Dude you're kinda in my seat," Renjun motioned his head subtly towards Cheonsa, Haechan quickly got the hint.

"Oh is this the Cheonie you were talking about!" He got up excitedly letting a now red faced Renjun back in the booth.

Now not knowing where to sit, he awkwardly stood at the end of the booth. Phina couldn't help but laugh, finding the situation very amusing, seeing him distressed.

"Dude you can have my seat, I need to get going anyway, thanks for the invite Phinie it's really helped my stress." Mark turned to wards his sister giving her a soft smile before sliding out the booth and heading out.

"See you Mark," everyone called in unison and Haechan slid into Marks prior spot.

"So... you're the new kid then?" Cheonsa asked, trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Yes and what? You got a problem with it?" Haechan snapped, annoyed with the awkward atmosphere.

"Oi don't speak to my friend that way!" Seraphina could feel her anger rising and she knew if this was how he was going to act, she'd definitely end up snapping at him.

"Phina it's fine- honestly though, your temper is as bad as Phina's over here, but honestly just relax and calm down" She muttered towards Haechan. At times like this, Seraphina always questioned why Cheonsa was nice to people, she just didn't understand it.

After another hour or Renjun and Cheonsa attempting to flirt with each other, and Seraphina sat awkwardly in silence whilst Haechan start staring at her phone, she decided it was time to go home. After all, she was knackered and needed to cool down after being so angry all day, her parents wouldn't like her staying out too late either.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm off!" She clapped to the group, standing up to go.

"I'm just reminding you, you still owe me a birthday present." Her friend gave her a pointed look, causing her to sigh.

"I know, I know." Hands up defensively, she walked off towards the door.

She heard the last of their conversation before exiting the door.

"I didn't know it was your birthday tomorrow?", "yeah it's my 18th Renjunie!"

"Why am I always annoyed at everything, it annoys me," Phina moaned to herself, walking down the dark alley ways towards her house.

She came to a holt when she saw the familiar dog lurking in front of her.

"Wilson! Come here boy!" She shouted towards the fawn Pekingese as it trotted over to her.

"You always appear when I'm angry or annoyed, you must definitely be my guardian Angel Willy Bob." She petted the small dog before carrying on her journey, feeling a little less annoyed, with Wilson close behind her.

Arriving at her house, she heard the shouting before she even got inside the house. Her parents were shouting at Mark once again about his grades. Poor Mark just wanted to go and become an entertainer, but their parents where transfixed on him going to university and it upset Phina having to watch him suffer.

That night, Phina checked up on Mark, seeing him with headphones in and writing down lyrical poems which he always did when he was upset or anxious. Sighing, she closed his door and made her way to her own room. Eventually, she settled off to sleep with a heavy heart, wanting nothing but her brother to be happy.

"You don't belong here." Her mums voice rang in her ears, repeating the same phrase.

"You're not one of us." This time it was Cheonsa's voice. Her voice sounded like she'd been crying out of fear.

Why was she scared?

Was she scared of me?

An agonising pain in her back cut Seraphina out of her thoughts, her eyes sprung with tears as she let out a blood- curdling scream. Why did her back feel like it was on fire? Was she going to die?

The same pain then went through her teeth, causing the girl to bite down on her hand out of shock, hoping the pressure would make it stop.

The next thing she saw made her stop in her tracks, shocked and scared at what she could see.

All around her lay bodies, numerous bodies, laying in a massive pool of blood. Each body was lifeless and stacked up high, screaming tor life to come and take its place back in their bodies.

Screaming, Phina woke up. Sweat pooled round her body, and she was shaking from fright. The last thing she'd seen was glowing red eyes staring back at her. She couldn't make out if it was a mirror or somebody else. Was that her eyes? It can't have been!

She looked at the clock on her bedside table, the time read 6:30AM, meaning she would have had to be up in another half an hour anyway. Instead of going back to sleep, she got up and readied herself for the day.

Arriving at school, she greeted her best friend with a cake she’d quickly grabbed on the way, earning a big smile from the blonde girl.

“Aw Phina! Isn’t this like the first cake you’ve gotten me? Like ever.” She chuckled, as she got a small punch to her arm from the brunette.

“Can I not buy my best friend a cake for her 18th Birthday?” She questioned, a hint of playfulness in her tone.

“Of course-” Cheonsa was cut off by a stabbing pain in her back. In shock, she leant forward subconsciously until the pain slowly went away. Tears formed in her eyes from the amount of pressure which had been put on her back and she felt like she was being suffocated.

“Cheonsa, CHEONSA! Are you okay? Hello are you okay?”

Seraphina looked around for anybody that could help her, she couldn’t understand what was wrong with her friend.

“I’m fine Phina, it’ll stop in a minute.” Her friend wheezed next to her.

After 5 minutes went by, Cheonsa could finally stand up properly, but this didn’t stop Phina from being worried.

“What was all that about?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve been getting them all morning, the pain comes and goes but it hurts like fuck.”

This cause Seraphina to look at the girl in shock. Cheonsa barely swore, so when she did, that definitely meant the girl was in severe pain.

“I’ll be fine Phi, honestly stop worrying!” She gave Phina an encouraged smile, squeezing her shoulder in comfort.

“Thank you for the cake, but you better head off to your class the bell’s about to ring.”

“Oh shit.” With that, Seraphina was off, giving her friend a hug and a pointed look to let her know the topic wasn’t being dropped, before heading off to her first class.

“Okay class, now we’re going to learn a new routine today.”

Seraphina jumped from the floor in glee, she loved learning new routines.

“Guessing you’ve finally learnt how to control that temper, Sunshine,” the amused tone of the boy she hated the most rang from behind her. She groaned out loud at the fact that she’d forgot he was now in her dance classes.

“Because my temper is usually reserved for little dickheads like you.” She shot back at him, getting into a space to learn the dance.

“You little shit-”

Haechan was cut off my a clap of the hand from their teacher, narrowing her eyes at two students who wouldn’t stop bickering.

“Now class, I will be putting you into pairs for this routine, and please don’t moan I don’t want any funny business.”

Well that was Phina’s hopes of showing her dance teacher that she was a great performer crushed, because she nearly doubled over in shock when she heard the next announcement.

“Seraphina and Haechan you will be working together.”

They weren’t going to get any of this routine done with him being her partner. Especially if he kept being a fucking annoying brat.

[1littleshippergirl1]

Percy x OC

Percy had no time for romance. 

He said it often enough now, whenever his mum or one of his siblings brought up the subject again and again. Because it was usually brought up again and again. He knew she meant well. She only wanted to see him happy like his other brothers and sister were. He was grateful for that, especially after all the rough times between them. Honestly, he didn’t even deserve that much from her. 

But back to his lack of romance. 

She was beginning to not take what she deemed as an excuse for an answer any longer. It wasn’t an excuse, but she--nor the rest of his family, much as he tried to convince--wasn’t listening. She felt he was using that as a crutch and had been since Audrey left him. He wasn’t, thank you very much. It was not a crutch. Definitely not a crutch. How could he think of dating right now? That was so far off his mind. He had two daughters to care for. They needed his attention and love more than another woman did. 

Why didn’t anyone understand that? It wasn’t that he intended to put it off for the rest of his life. Merlin knows he greatly missed the championship he once shared with Audrey. Yes, it would’ve been nice to get out again but now just wasn’t the right time.  He couldn’t be off gallivanting for a woman; Molly and Lucy were growing up and he wanted to have a front side view of everything. They were his number one priority, as they should be. He refused to be like those other parents; the ones that were concerned with their social and romantic lives than their own child. Honestly, it was entirely irresponsible of them. Those people didn’t deserve to be parents. 

Now that the girls were older and into their teenage years, he was feeling immense pressure from the family to settle down again. His mum was especially bad at this. She’d been dropping not-so-subtle hints that some friends of hers had daughters or nieces or goddaughters who were single and adored kids. George had asked him if he was planning on getting out there again. Even Oliver offered to introduce him to some ladies that played on Puddlemere or from an opposing team. 

Each time, Percy flatly told them he wasn’t interested. 

What was the rush? He’d inwardly sigh in exasperation. Why did he have to be in a relationship with someone? Couldn’t he just enjoyed the rest of Molly and Lucy’s youth before he started to look? Charlie was older and he only just married his long time girlfriend that most of the family didn’t know he had until a few months after the war ended--that had been a source of major gossip within the family. His mum was not pleased to learn they eloped when they came by the Burrow to announce it. Charlie ended up running outside, yelping when their mum tried hitting him on the backside with her slipper. 

He appreciated that they cared. He really did. He just wished they didn’t care quite as much. Let alone having the audacity to speak of the matter in front of the girls during one Sunday dinner that he should have stayed home from. Now they, too, were concerned about him being alone. That was the last thing he wanted and it was the last thing they should’ve been worried about. They were young; he wanted them to soak up every bit of their adolescence as they could. Not fretting that he wasn’t with anyone. 

Furthermore, he wasn’t alone. Everyone else might think otherwise, but it was true. He wasn’t alone. He had his daughters and that was enough for him. Why did he need a woman to feel happy? Why did have to be looking for one? It was rubbish, that’s what it was. Completely, utterly rubbish. They assumed he must be unhappy, longing for that connection he once had. It would have been nice, he could admit. Not the worst thing in the world. And if he managed to find one, if that were occur, who said things would last? Percy didn’t have the best track record when it came to relationships. 

There’d only been two in his lifetime. The second one wasn’t even supposed to have happened, if he was being honest. It sounded harsh, but was the untold truth. He was happy it did, though. That second relationship gave him two of the most beautiful girls in the world--and he didn’t care if he was being biased or not. Still, it wasn’t how he envisioned things turning out. His first was with Penny and that was short lived.

They’d broken up shortly after their seventh year ended. She was accepted into the St. Mungos healer program. She worked tirelessly; working sometimes a number of weeks straight before getting a short break. He was just starting his position at the Ministry. They went days without talking. No letters, no meeting up for some butterbeer or lunch. No dates. Nothing. He hadn’t meant to ignore her at the time. He’d been caught up. The beginning of his unfortunate downfall. If only he could travel back in time and smack himself before he spiraled down too deep... 

At some point, she did start sending him letters again, cordially asking if he would join her for lunch. He never responded, being so distracted with work and feeding into Mr. Crouch’s demands. She eventually came to his office, shutting the door behind her, standing there for seemingly an eternity before blurting out the words. 

They were quick. Like ripping off a bandage. 

She admitted that she thought it was best if they broke up. He was in the midst of paperwork, simultaneously having a quill charmed to take notes beside him. He never even looked up. He was that engrossed. Only when she left in tears that he glanced up, feeling a twinge of guilt. But he’d been too embarrassed at what he perceived to be the only failure of his that he kept it from his family for the longest time. Just knowing that the twins would pick on him for it, especially for the fact that it was Penny who broke up with him. She didn’t give much of a reason other than she didn’t feel the spark anymore and gave a measly excuse that they needed to focus on their respective careers. It’d hurt, more than he felt he could bear at the time. It was partially the reason he threw himself more into his work. It was an escape. A reasonable one, he’d told himself. And until he was standing there in front of some of his family, nearly about to go on his hands and knees to beg for their forgiveness, he didn’t see a problem with that. 

And then there was Audrey. She was supposed to be his happily ever after. That soured shortly after Lucy was born, but he supposed it began to go downhill prior to her becoming pregnant with Molly. Which led him to now: single. Not where he expected to be but he was there all the same. No use whining about it or trying to hastily change that fact. 

He thought of himself as being single for a long time. Perhaps forever. 

Little did he know what fate had in store for him. 

~~ 

Percy was wearing his favorite work robes. The robes were sky blue; a color that his mum affectionately said matched his eyes. George said the robes made him stuffy and uptight--when their mum glared at him, his brother held up his hands in surrender, claiming he was merely joking. He still liked them. They were incredibly soft and a smidgen more casual than his others. He wore these on Friday’s, a day that it so happened to be. After he finished his shift, he decided to not go home right away. The girls would be fine. They were having friends over and Molly was at that age where everything Percy did was seemingly embarrassing and going to ultimately ruin her social life. 

He usually had to refrain from snickering. But he did it. He was a good dad so he didn’t even though he wanted to. 

About fifteen minutes after leaving the Ministry and walking through Diagon Alley, he found himself standing in line at Florean Fortescue's. The line was moderately long, with Percy having to be all the way back at the front door. He was the last person there, which was fine. He could wait. He felt he deserved a treat after the tough week he dealt with. And it was such a nice day outside, he might as well eat it here. Maybe pick up something for Molly and Lucy as well. 

His head was turned to idly look at the bustling people out in the Alley. It wasn’t as horrendously busy as it was during the few weeks prior to school starting, but it was enough for a Friday. Just as he turned back to look ahead, something--someone bumped into his chest and immediately there was an ice cold feeling soaking through his robes, nipping at his bare skin. He gasped, startled, staring down at the chocolatey mess that was now smearing on the material.

“What on-” The words died in his mouth at the sight of the young woman in front of him. She had to be around Ginny’s age, perhaps younger but not by much. Not to mention- 

She was pretty, he could admit. 

Her hair was like Lucy’s; blonde and up in a high ponytail on the top of her head. Her eyes were hazel and just the way they looked, made her seem so innocent. She must have had muggles for parents, judging by the t-shirt and pair of shorts that reminded Percy of what Oliver wore the majority of the time he wasn’t in his quidditch uniform. 

She didn’t seem embarrassed by her accident nor did she widen her eyes in horror like he would have done if he was in her shoes. On the contrary, he blinked when she took the cone off his chest and licked at the remaining ice cream like nothing happened. 

That was....odd to say the least. 

“Sorry about that,” she chirped.  “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Do you ever get lost in daydreams? I do. That happens to me a lot. My friend, Randy, says if my head wasn’t screwed it would fall right off. Isn’t that funny?” She let out a giggle that was probably too loud for being out in public, kind of obnoxious but also sort of...endearing. “Isn’t it such a lovely day? I love sunny days. They’re so pretty. Do you like sunny days, too? I think most do. Oh, you have a stain. I’ll take care of that. Here.” She brandished her wand and with one smooth flick, the ice cream vanished. 

Percy was rendered speechless. She’d said all that one long breath without taking a break. Not to mention she certainly wasn’t shy. “Er, it’s quite alright and, er,  thank you.” 

She distinctly reminded him of Oliver again. Oliver had talked the whole way from Kings Cross to Hogwarts on their first train in first year. 

She slapped a hand to her forehead in a rather dramatic fashion. “Oh, goodness me! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Abby Adams! What’s your name? You  look familiar. Have we met and I just forgot? That's possible. I forget sometimes. Than again, you look like you’re hard to forget.” To his astonishment, she giggled again and a bit of a pink flush came onto her cheeks. 

For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. His blasted tongue was flimsy and he deliberately ignored the smirking teenage girl who was serving people at the counter. It didn’t even register that it was his turn to order now. But the girl wasn’t bothered by that. She was enjoying the show, it seemed. “Percy,” he eventually managed to say. “Percy Weasley. We might have gone to Hogwarts together.” 

Her eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh you’re a Weasley! That’s right. I was in your sister’s year. We didn’t really talk much. I didn’t have many friends at Hogwarts. My best, best friend is Randy. He’s a muggle but he knows all about magic. I told him. He liked reading my textbooks. I remember you were Head-Boy. Everyone thought you were annoying but I didn’t. I thought you were interesting. Do you still talk to Oliver Wood? I remember you guys were always together. He plays for Puddlemere, not that that’s a surprise. Am I right?” 

“Right,” he murmured. 

She took a glance at her watch. “Oh, darn! I’ve gotta scatter. Break’s almost over. Bye, Percy! Enjoy your ice cream!” She flashed him a smile as she exited the shop and apparated away. Percy kept staring at the last place she stood until the girl at the counter hummed and he blushed. 

“What’s up with him?” the girl said out loud. 

An older bloke who was nearby responded. “Well, I’d reckon to say he’s in love.” 

Love? No. That was preposterous. 

....Or was it? 

 ~~ 

This is part 1! I’m gonna go through different moments between them. 

[punkscowardschampions]

Gen 4.1 Planning

Libi: Okay, so my basic premise for who Libi is going to be at her core, WOO; I was thinking about how we said that she is Tess' second (lowkey third but I'll let you live gal) chance at 'getting it right' and raising a child well, which, OBVIOUSLY, she's never told or anything but there's an innate pressure in that that you'd know on some level, likewise her mum AND dad died so everyone would be quick with those comparisons always, this family and Liam's mum when that contact is made because her daughter died as well as; Then that made me think of the pressure Ro felt because you know, bad shit happened to Bea (Edie and Liam in this case) and then she got saved by McVickers and felt like she owed everyone to be great and do great things; so my vibe is that BUT COMING FROM A LESS SELFISH, WEIRD, PERFECTIONISM ANGLE soz not soz Ro, we know what you did; I see her being better behaved as she grows up, far more than her parents obviously but lowkey better behaved than any of the mcvickers or cali kids ever were because she thinks everyone deserves that, her not causing any more problems, but again UNLIKE Ro, she wouldn't be different to a degree of not fitting in because she'd make a massive effort to be there for everyone and every event, be likeable and get along with as much of the fam as possible, obviously some of that is natural charm but it's also putting in the time ahem Rosaline; like, she's a people pleaser, to a fault, and all she cares about is making everyone else, Tess, Fearghal, Ali, JJ etc etc, happy and making sure she's being what she thinks they want her to be/need her to be, and like that is what makes her happy because she is doing it out of love and respect not obligation but she doesn't know she's doing it, you know? Again, it's innate, how she is, but that's where the arc can come in, in realising that she goes with what makes everyone else happy, is who they need, but what does SHE want herself, and what does SHE need? A way I thought we could make this a Bobby/Libi storyline if we wanted (but we do not have to) is if she does have feelings for him, could be any point on his timeline gfs and kids wise whatever, but she lets him go and have whatever gf or do whatever thing because she's like that's what he wants he doesn't like me or want me like that etc, because she doesn't let herself want things selfishly or do anything just for herself Bobby: we should totally have them be together as little bubs because they are and it's like a running joke that they are gonna get together/get married like we've lowkey already said but more so but maybe the vibe is he is really shy how he is and lowkey it's like a my sister and me vibe where she does all the talking and socialising for him and like all their friends are joint friends Bobby: not in a creepy Ro and Ali way but Bobby: and we will let you outgrow that sir Libi: it makes sense because obviously we're learning sign language so simply Bobby can't communicate with most kids by himself, that's facts, and it's easier to have another kid help you than Jimmy always being there, or whoever he has helping him at school, you know Bobby: oh snap maybe I flip reverse what I said and Cammie's mum is the deaf one too and the vibe could be that like Libi pushes him to get some deaf friends as they become like tweens/teens so he can communicate himself so he does and does become more outgrowing that way but maybe he lowkey leans too hard into deaf culture for a while there and she feels like pushed out by it because it's something she can't be a part of Libi: ooh yeah, that makes a lot of sense Bobby: it adds something to Cammie's character as well being hearing but having two deaf parents so that's interesting Bobby: and also makes sense why JJ have to help them so much as well as them just being young Libi: right, there's a lot of shit Cammie would have to do from a young age if not for JJ lowkey 'cos it's just easier for a hearing kid than it is a deaf adult in this world Libi: her mum could maybe be more partial for ease but yes Bobby: and like it makes sense that Libi would push her feelings aside when those two grow closer/happen because she'd be like well they're both deaf that's something I can't give him and something I want him to have Libi: exactly, it'd feel really selfish to wreck that even if you didn't have all the ingrained shit she does around it Bobby: and obviously he actually wants to be with her as well but thinks she doesn't want that and before you now it there's baby Cammie so it's like well now I gotta try and make this work because don't wanna be a shit father like I had Libi: oh the drama of it all Libi: love it Libi: and we've not really got (that I can think of) a never mind I'll find someone like you type deal Libi: because usually it's like JUST SAY IT but it actually makes sense here to pine and long but let him go Libi: hence I'm here for it Libi: So, what I'm thinking right now is, that they're like never officially together, like it just keeps being an in-joke kinda vibe and like we're JUST best friends and then kind of like family, but obviously as they get into tween/teen years it's beyond a stage you can pretend you're just a kid playing at being girlfriend and boyfriend and as you said boo, that will coincide with JJ wedding and kids roughly so then it'd be more obvious like it's not going to happen seriously, then she can encourage him to get deaf friends etc, but I feel like he should only meet Cammie's mum just before or at uni (or whatever equivalent he's doing after school) so then it is quick and not like they were even mates before so it's less of a shock for all, you know? Bobby: I totally agree because I strongly pictured him being best man at the JJ wedding (soz Pete) and her being one of the bridesmaids and all the bants that go along with that and them both being SO 😳 Bobby: and yeah he could live the cliché that Jac was mocking and literally get with this girl freshers week I'd believe it Libi: Right? it then mirrors the Jameson/Cammie thing except they literally are just BFFs and there isn't anything going on Libi: there's actually weight to this but we're just like haha no don't be silly Bobby: and we've literally not done that trope with childhood boy girl best friends before really because baze are probably the closest but they were always so clearly in love and refusing to fight it so it's fun Libi: exactly, because unknowingly or otherwise, we're fighting against all the cliches and tropes that come with this family Libi: like I'm going to not do any of those things that caused drama for everyone and this is clearly too close to home, even though I don't think anyone would actually be that bothered, we've just really internalized and gone with it Bobby: like how nobody cares Jac is gay except Jac herself Libi: right Libi: but obviously she's good at keeping this all internal because no one can or is gonna clock it and be like, babe, it's okay Libi: like JJ might be a bit like oop, keeping it in the family but as long as you're both happy they really don't care, and same for mcvickers even if Tess is suspish of everyone that comes into any gal's life 'cos trauma lol Bobby: Bobby wasn't trying to make deaf culture happen for himself but Libi would have been so excited for him to get out there and do it that he would've been excited too and then it is literally like a new world opening up because who has he ever interacted with that's deaf before Bobby: didn't mean to lowkey leave you behind gal but Libi: it's kinda her own fault, not to blame you but clearly literally what we do like okay he's happy now mission accomplished Bobby: and maybe Cammie's mum is like the deaf equivalent of those gays who make it their whole identity so she's really selling it and so he also thinks okay this is who I should be with Libi: we know the vibe, like it's more excusable but still, I get you Libi: I see it Libi: a bit of a baby gay equivalent like go too hard and you're like I need to calm this down Libi: UNRELATED BUT Libi: think it will please you Libi: Jay is born 32 like Bobby, I'm pretty sure, and I thought Libi and her would also make for interesting content because Jay obviously feels she owes a lot to the fam for not being stuck with Chloe etc etc and the very little we did with her gave off a similar energy to me Libi: and she has her commitment issues in relationships because of her mum situation so they can bond over the shit that holds 'em back even though it's different stuff Bobby: and her relationship with Ava being her mum but also not being is something I feel like Libi can relate to because of how she was raised and the Rio and Buster-ness of it all because they wanted to raise her and obvs they wanted to raise Jay for a while there too Bobby: plus all the travelling she does is something that Libi could potentially join her in doing if she needs an escape so that's nice Libi: 100% it makes for a strong friendship there's a lot of parallels if not total similarities Libi: it makes a lot of sense, it's coming together baby Bobby: if you need to get away from seeing Bobby literally playing happy families, I can offer you that gal because I'm gonna have her go to uni/live in new york probably now that Nancy isn't because her face actually did live there idk if they still do or what but Bobby: we know the vibe is that she goes everywhere and can't settle so you'll have lots of chances to run away in a way that won't upset anyone Bobby: and when she gets her man and it works out we could totally coincide that because she can be like if I can do it so can you Libi: a mood a moment Bobby: all I know is Bobby is gonna be more chatty because neither Jimothy or Jesse are so I must but not to Jude levels of !!! Libi: a nice middleground Libi: which is kind of what I see for her honestly Libi: less in your face than 1. we were as a little bub 2. a lot of the fam but still sociable enough that it jives well with most of 'em Bobby: I'm so happy about all of this and honestly Cammie's mum being deaf makes so much sense in terms of what we were already thinking about her being more distant and working a lot Libi: if she doesn't give up the fight, she could be some kind of advocate vibe Libi: 'cos then Cammie can't even call her out really Libi: like soz this is important, maam your child Bobby: exactly what I was thinking we're in sync rn boo Libi: because it all makes sense, you gotta follow one thread and then the story shows itself tbh Libi: because tying in Astrid too, obviously that makes sense because she loses her mum too, and she'd ultimately be a really good influence because after Ro dies Astrid is kind of freed to do whatever she wants for herself Libi: and how much happier it makes her, how much she improves...well Libi: sips tea Bobby: I LOVE THIS Libi: and who else is taking the autistic girl that seriously and letting her teach you things Libi: love that for you Libi: she's living her best life and we can see that Bobby: she can be in their friend group, I'm happy Libi: ALSO, I feel as if she couldn't lie to Astrid Libi: because she says how she sees it bluntly and we're not going to feel comfortable fobbing her off because of that insistence, so that'll be good for you even when we're hiding it from everyone else Libi: everyone else you've just got to be vaguely like oh no no and it's dropped and like okay Bobby: we're gonna get to show so many different sides of Libi, I'm always here for that Bobby: and however far we go down the Astrid and her gf eating disorder rabbit hole, we''ll have Libi not treating her like a kid which is great Libi: yeah, there's loads we can do with the end of gen 4 for them all it's a mood Bobby: okay so what or who would you like to throw Libi at first Libi: that is the question Bobby: just so we know Bobby is going to Trinity and studying Business, Economics and Social Studies (B.E.S.S.) which is business, economics, political science and sociology basically so he can end up working at that advertising place with Jimothy after he has done this 4 years Bobby: Cammie's mum is there doing deaf studies which is also 4 years Libi: do we wanna do a rough timeline for these people mentioned here Libi: Jay born 32, we find out about her when she's 7 in 39 Libi: Bobby is born 32 and comes into the story 38 Libi: Libi is born 34, Edam die 35, we know this situation, is 4 soon to be 5 when she meets Bobby vias JJ Libi: Astrid is born 35 and Ro dies in 44 when Astrid is 9 Libi: JJ can get married 46, so Libi is 12 and Bobby is 14 Libi: doesn't have to be when we intro the deaf friends to the point of exclusion obvs but it's timed so we never have the 'real' relationship chat of it all obvs Libi: so Bobby would go to uni in 50-51 and Camie is born 51 start of 2nd year Libi: that gives us this good 4 year period before uni to play with, then obviously we know the vibe of when she's born and making that work etc Libi: Hmm, I think it would make the most sense to do a gap year then stay local, like that's the ideal Libi: because I really think she'd struggle being away from the fam Libi: but I'm kinda thinking maybe to be cruel she DOES go away because it seems like something the fam are like yay about Libi: 'cos she'd try really, really hard to stay but they should at least notice that and she can transfer for a reprieve Bobby: that's really nice actually Libi: she should do her first year in Liverpool, the rest at Trinity Libi: okay, so film studies, it was only 3 years in Liverpool but we're changing to trinity and you do years 1 and 2 (aka whilst Bobby is still there at least for year 1 but I need to check anyway) there and years 3 and 4 at Columbia uni in new york, aka where Jay is Libi: **remind me to check the times but we need to give him a solid bday and I'm changing hers up too Libi: this is just roughly Libi: but this way we can be cruel with it lol

[dvp95]

i don’t want to go

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: teen & up tags: memory loss/amnesia, established relationship, introspection, hurt/comfort word count: 7.4k summary: There are long-term effects of brain injuries, because of course there are. Phil’s got a list in his phone and on the fridge that Dan takes very seriously. It’s more or less a joke to Phil.

a fifth installment of amnesia au? yeah

read on ao3 or here!

Phil has a migraine again.

It's not surprising with the amount of stimulus all around him, but it doesn't stop him from being annoyed by it. He bites his tongue and follows Dan through the shop, making noncommittal noises whenever he holds something up. Dan doesn't seem particularly bothered by Phil's lack of interest.

“Maybe not,” Dan is saying to himself, because he doesn't need Phil in order to carry a conversation.

“Why not?” Phil asks. He doesn't care, really, but he can't keep drifting like he's dreaming, Dan's solid presence the only real tether he's got.

Dan blinks like he's surprised that Phil is contributing. Phil tries not to be irritated by that. It's not fair to Dan when the source is at Phil's temples, behind his eyes, a constant throbbing pain that won't go away until he sleeps.

“We got her something like it a couple years ago,” Dan explains, putting the purse back where he got it from. “She still uses that one, seems silly to get her a new one already.”

“I think girls usually have a few bags,” says Phil.

“Yeah. Doesn't mean we need to supply her habit. Let's keep looking.”

Phil doesn't bother pointing out that he's never met Louise and has no idea what she likes, because Dan is on a mission. They've had to put off the shopping late thanks to check-ins at the hospital and sporadic, unsuccessful house showings with Ellie. Dan has done some shopping online already for both of them, but he’d insisted on at least one afternoon of walking around the shops and buying ridiculous stuff. Tradition, or whatever.

Normally Phil loves Christmas, and shopping for the people he loves is a huge part of that, but right now he just wants to go home and lie down with a heat pack over his eyes.

He locks his jaw so he doesn’t say something he’ll regret and lets Dan lead them through the narrow pathways that this small, overpriced boutique allows. Every time Phil idly tugs at a price tag he feels uncertain and undeserving and, okay, annoyed. That specific combination is more or less his default mood as of late, but it gets exacerbated when he has to deal with a lot of strangers or the familiar dull, insistent pulse of pain in his skull. He’s dealt with migraines his whole life, but they’ve gotten so much more consistent and painful. He’d been warned about that by one of his many doctors - it’s a fun little reminder that his brain doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to anymore.

If Phil said he has a migraine, Dan would take him home immediately. He’d turn off all the lights and shut the blinds and let Phil use his thigh as a pillow; the unscented candles would be lit and Dan’s long fingers would be petting Phil’s hair, rubbing his temples, helping the pain and irritation seep out of Phil’s body.

But, if Phil said he has a migraine, then Dan will also worry, and he will worry loudly. He’ll be quiet while he’s helping Phil, because he’s a good fiancé like that. A good person like that - Phil is sure that Dan would do whatever he could to make anyone feel better, because he’s got a soft heart and relatively good intuition. Then, Phil will fall asleep, or the headache will release him for a little while, and that’s when Dan’s worry gets unbearably loud. Questions about how long it’s been hurting, reminders of things the specialist told them as if Phil wasn’t also in the room, maybe even phone calls if he considers it to be particularly worrisome.

He means well. Phil knows that he means well.

“Perfume isn’t really a good gift,” says Dan. Maybe he’s been talking the whole time that Phil’s been on another planet. There’s no real way to tell. “Not for Louise, she’s too particular.”

“If you say so,” says Phil. He squeezes his eyes shut while Dan’s back is turned, pressing the heel of each palm against them like he can somehow massage the headache away. He doesn’t do it for too long, doesn’t want to draw attention to himself, so after a couple of seconds he returns his hands to his pockets and does his best to ignore their tremor.

--

There are long-term effects of brain injuries, because of course there are. Phil’s got a list of them in his phone and on the fridge, and he’s supposed to say something to Dan or his doctors whenever he experiences them. Dan takes it all very seriously. It’s more or less a joke to Phil.

Memory loss. Well, it hasn’t gotten worse, so Phil counts that as a win.

Loss of balance. Seriously? Phil isn’t going to report every time he trips over his own feet, cracks in the sidewalk, nothing at all.

Mood swings. Phil’s pretty sure that Dan keeps his own record of that, and he has to remind himself not to get grumpy about it or it’ll just be another goddamn entry in the Phil.exe Stopped Working log.

There are more than Phil can easily keep track of, and he’s sure that there are more things that his doctors and specialist and Dan are all watching for. It's frustrating, because he'd rather everything just go back to normal, and he's sure that Dan is only going to work himself up by looking for things that aren't inherently symptoms.

--

Christmas used to be Phil’s favourite time of year. Nothing got him quite as excited as the smell of pine and his mum’s holiday baking. He can tell that Dan likes it too; Dan keeps dragging him places and showing him unfamiliar things and claiming tradition on it all. Phil’s got no reason to be suspicious, but he knows that he would definitely use his fiancé’s lack of knowledge to his advantage, so there’s a part of him that sees six packets of mince pies in their trolley and wonders if he’s being screwed with.

It’s still nice, he supposes. They do up the tree and Dan shows him all their ornaments with the sort of soft dimpling that Phil fell in love with. Back in love with. Whatever. Their flat isn’t decked out the way that it would be if Phil took initiative, but he’s really struggling to muster up excitement for the holiday right now.

Dan notices. Obviously Dan notices. They spend every waking moment together, basically, and Dan knows him well. It would be stranger if he didn’t notice.

“You’ll feel better when we go see your folks,” Dan says, a sad sort of smile curving his pretty mouth. He’s wrapping presents, signing both of their names on all of them, and Phil feels downright useless. He didn’t pick anything out for their friends or families and he can’t even make a cube look as nice as Dan does. “It’s impossible not to be in the spirit around your mum, you know that.”

Familiar dread settles in Phil’s gut, and he shrugs. It’s easier to go back to his notebook than to explain that, actually, the last thing he wants right now is to see his family. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it was just his parents and Martyn, but it won’t be.

His mum has already texted him a few times to tell him great aunt so-and-so is excited to see him again or that the younger kids in the family know what's going on with him and think it's 'so cool', so Phil is prepared for a deluge of extended family travelling to the Isle. He's never been good at being the center of attention, and he's really not looking forward to an entire week of the What Does Phil Remember game. Even the thought of having Dan with him, celebrating together and being out, something Phil can barely wrap his head around, isn't enough to ease the anxiety.

Dan is looking forward to it, though, and Phil feels guilty for not wanting to spend time with his family, so. He doesn't say anything.

Instead, he turns back to his notebook. He finds things slipping through his fingers so much more easily now than they used to, and he isn’t sure if that’s from the brain injury or from getting old, but he hates it either way. Scribbling things down helps, sometimes, even if it isn’t full sentence journalling. Lots of doodles and half-thoughts mixed in with actually useful things; he’d had a list of potential gifts to get for people that he turned out not to need.

He’s sure that if he’d insisted on picking something out himself, Dan would have been more than supportive. The thing is, Phil is too busy fighting his own body to put effort into talking the world’s most opinionated man out of a bucket hat for Martyn. Dan knows better, anyway.

Maybe that rankles more than Phil wants to admit. Maybe this whole thing, really, rankles.

Phil doesn’t like getting angry. It happens, frequently, but he doesn’t enjoy the feeling. He should be able to enjoy this. He’s got a mug of cocoa and the beginning doodles of a storyboard and a gorgeous man wrapping presents under a gorgeous tree, and it’s his favourite time of the year. If anything, he should be happy. Ecstatic. Grateful.

There’s pressure at Phil’s temples again, and he feels that bubble of anger start to swell. It fills him like a helium balloon from the depths of hell, hot and all-encompassing and sudden.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his teeth. If Dan asks, he’ll just say that he’s tired. He uses that line a lot lately. It’s obvious that Dan doesn’t believe him, and Phil doesn’t make any particular effort to sound more genuine, but Dan hasn’t pushed him on it yet.

That’s good. Phil thinks it’s good, anyway. He doesn’t like being angry, and he doesn’t want to know how it feels to shout at Dan again.

He doesn’t like it, but he is. He is angry. He is so goddamn angry.

--

There are good days, even in the guilty stress of Christmas planning. There are days where Phil can tangle up with Dan and trade lazy kisses, days where he can go to Starbucks alone, days where his mum calls and they talk about everything under the sun just like they used to. Sure, Phil has to be careful not to touch Dan in ways that are instinctive but not welcome, careful to text Dan every ten minutes when he’s out by himself, careful about what he says to his mum so that she doesn’t start to cry, but those aren’t hardships, exactly, and they don’t make Phil’s good days any less good. It’s just harder and harder to brush them off.

It’s like a parasite, the anger. Even when it’s dormant, Phil feels twinges of irritation to things he normally doesn’t mind at all. The sound of Dan humming when he’s puttering around the kitchen is something he’s loved for as long as he can remember, and now it takes actual effort for pre-coffee Phil not to snap at him or leave the room.

Today is a good day. There are no lingering traces of an ache in Phil’s broken head, his parents aren’t adding any stress to his plate, and he can remember why he loves the annoying things Dan does.

Phil is trailing after Dan again, but that’s because he’s been doubled over laughing at something Dan muttered under his breath and they’re trying not to catch each other’s eye so they don’t bust up again. He follows Dan, reluctantly, into an aisle and starts poking at all the health food packages as if they’re suspicious.

“You like quinoa, stupid,” Dan giggles. He gently smacks at Phil’s hands, and Phil tangles their fingers together. It’s just for a moment, because Dan is actually attempting to shop for healthy food despite Phil’s best efforts, but it makes Phil feel lighter than air. He can hold a guy’s hand, however briefly, in a grocery aisle. He can just do that. It’s terrifying and exhilarating every time he does it, and he can’t help but look around them in a wary move that’s ingrained into him no matter what Dan tells him about things changing.

Nobody is paying them any mind at all. The giddiness in his chest spreads through his whole body, and Phil decides that he wants to feel this way all the time. He knows that it isn’t logical, that his life right now has serious stumbling blocks and that he can’t control the mood swings, but he’s old enough to know that optimism is a conscious choice he has to keep making or he’ll become someone he doesn’t like at all.

He wanders off while Dan reads ingredients on something new he wants to try and manages to add three more snacks to the cart before Dan notices.

--

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on in there?”

Dan’s voice is quiet and his fingers are running through Phil’s hair. He never comments on the length of it, on the fact that Phil is obviously growing it out, but Phil does wonder if it bothers some part of him. If Dan thinks he’s regressing, or clinging to the parts of himself he can control. Phil doesn’t even have a good rebuttal for that.

“In where?” Phil asks. He’s sleepier than he wants to admit and stubbornly ignoring the way his eyes keep drifting shut. He wants to finish this movie, at least, before he hauls Dan off to bed for a good cuddle.

Dan chuckles softly and gathers Phil’s fringe up to kiss his forehead without a barrier.

“Stupid,” he says, absolutely oozing with fondness. Phil wants to curl up in Dan’s love like a blanket sometimes, a safe haven from the rest of the world. “There's something going on in here.”

His long fingers tap Phil’s forehead, so gentle, and the puzzle pieces click together in Phil’s very tired mind. He laughs and turns his face further into Dan’s shoulder. There’s a million reasons he should keep his feelings to himself, but Dan has a way of slipping past all of Phil’s walls. Right now, in this moment, Phil can’t remember a single one of those million reasons. He yawns and buries his nose into Dan’s collarbone. The trace of mint and musk clinging to Dan’s skin makes him feel even calmer.

This is a safe haven. Phil isn’t much of a talker when it comes to his feelings, but he wants to tell Dan what’s going on with him. He wants to be the kind of husband who can answer that question instead of bottling everything up until it explodes.

“I don’t wanna go away for Christmas,” he whispers it like a secret, right into Dan’s chest.

For a long moment, Dan is quiet. Only the pause of his fingers in Phil’s hair indicate that he heard Phil at all.

“Why?”

There’s hurt and bewilderment in Dan’s voice, because of course there is. Phil is too tired to feel a proper frisson of irritation, but he can’t hold back a sigh. He presses the softest kiss to Dan’s collarbone and comes up to give him a sleepy smile. “Sorry,” he says. “I just mean I want to stay here with you forever.”

It’s the truth, but it’s not the whole truth. Phil watches the quiet confusion in Dan’s big brown eyes turn to mush before he rolls them.

“Alright, if you’re bringing up the F word,” says Dan, “then it’s definitely bedtime.”

“You have a lot of F words,” Phil notes. His smile feels more genuine now. “Famous, forever…”

Dan shudders dramatically and presses his fingers into Phil’s ticklish sides to make him laugh, too loud for the time of night.

“Fuck you,” Dan says, dimples in full force. “C’mon. Bed.”

“There’s still like half an hour left,” Phil protests. He doesn’t actually care much about the ending of the movie, but it’s fun to dig his heels in and get Dan all fond and exasperated. He can’t bite back his grin fast enough.

“You don’t care,” Dan laughs and stands up, turning off the TV sometime in the process. Phil is very impressed by the multitasking.

“I don’t,” Phil agrees. He’s all too happy to leave the topic of Christmas on the sofa, in the twinkling lights of their objectively very pretty tree. He pulls Dan into a soft, lingering kiss and then gestures at the ceiling as if it’s an explanation. “Mistletoe,” he says, and then darts around Dan to get to the bathroom first.

They haven’t hung any mistletoe. Dan’s bark of a laugh follows him through the quiet, dark flat and makes every corner of it feel brighter.

--

In the morning, Dan looks up from his phone. “Were you serious about not going anywhere for Christmas?”

Phil hasn’t had his coffee and there’s a twinge behind his left eye, so all he can really manage to do without scowling is shake his head. It seems to be the answer Dan was looking for, anyway, since it makes his shoulders relax and his lips curve up a bit. Phil feels a little guilty for lying and some irrational annoyance at Dan for not being able to tell, but he focuses on his coffee and on that pretty pink patch on Dan’s cheek to ground himself.

--

Through his whole life, Phil has never liked hospital or being prodded at by doctors, but he’d gotten off easy before now. He’s found himself sitting on a flat mattress or an uncomfortable chair in the past six months far more often than he ever wanted to. They run tests and they ask him questions and never figure anything out.

It’s a surefire way to get Phil’s migraines to make an appearance. The combination of fluorescent lights, difficult conversation, and stress from the lack of any progress hasn’t failed to make it feel like someone is jackhammering his frontal lobe yet.

Dan has a hard time sitting still at the best of times, so he tends to pace around the room whenever they have these appointments. Even so, he manages to hold the thread of what the doctors say better than Phil can. It’s probably important for Phil to be paying attention to what his neurologist is saying, since he’s here to follow up with her after his last episode, but Phil is having such a hard time concentrating lately. Especially when it’s the same stuff, over and over again: they don’t know what’s causing this, common things keep getting ruled out, he’s a mystery but he’s not in any danger, etc.

They’re starting to sound like Charlie Brown’s parents to Phil at this point. He relies on Dan to tell him the important bits later.

Normally the various doctors he’s seen since he first fainted haven’t minded if he zones out a bit. They call it a symptom and say his concentration isn’t going to be what it used to be, don’t accept Dan’s apologies for it, but the truth is that Phil just can’t listen to them talk about him like they’re verbally shrugging and not lose his entire mind. Today, though, his neurologist makes a point of getting his attention.

“Phil,” she says, and Phil realises that he doesn’t actually know her name.

“Sorry, what?”

She doesn’t sigh, but Phil imagines it’s a close call. Dan stops his pacing around the room and stands with his arms crossed and brow furrowed, giving his full attention even though he isn’t being spoken to.

“Phil,” she says again. “How are you feeling?”

“About what?” Phil asks.

Her lips twitch. “In general. I know this whole experience must be a lot for you, and I was wondering if you were talking to anyone about it.”

“I talk to you guys,” says Phil, gesturing around her office to indicate the doctors as a whole. “And to Dan, and my family.”

Phil doesn’t make a habit of lying to his doctors, but he hates that it does feel like a lie to say he talks to his family about his feelings. They’re just… in mourning, basically, for someone that Phil will probably never be again. Dan is too, but he’s a lot more open and easy to talk to. He sees Dan’s eyebrows raise at the answer and has to hold back a giggle.

“I was actually asking if you’re in the process of seeing a psychiatrist,” the neurologist clarifies. Phil’s brief amusement from the exchange sours quickly. He’s not sure what the doctor and Dan see on his face, but she’s quick to keep talking. “You’ve gone through a trauma, Phil, and it’s very normal to struggle with it. Talking to someone unbiased and professional can be a helpful way to wrap your mind around what you’re going through.”

There’s something she isn’t saying, as well. Phil hears it anyway. He has a suspicion that his doctors think his memories could come back if he goes to therapy, like he’s repressed them or something instead of them being stolen from him.

Phil doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep the frustration out of his voice if he does.

“That’s a good idea,” Dan says, more to Phil than to the doctor.

Of course Dan thinks it’s a good idea. Dan goes to therapy and enjoys it. Well, okay, ‘enjoy’ is a strong word. It benefits Dan, gives him tools that he can use on days where getting out of bed feels impossible, gives him an emotional outlet that he desperately needs. Dan feels things so strongly and so deeply that it scares Phil, sometimes.

Phil… doesn’t. He’s got better things to do with his time than worry about the why and how of every fleetingly wayward emotion - he’d rather push it down, move past it, on his own time. He imagines spilling his guts to a complete stranger and almost laughs. He can’t even tell his mother how he feels about being treated like a circus freak or tell his fiancé how he feels about celebrating Christmas this year. Hell, Phil doesn’t even tell waitstaff when they bring him the wrong thing. It’s funny to picture him laid on a sofa and laying out his whole life for someone to poke and prod at.

He knows he’s still making a face, and he sees something in Dan’s shutter. Phil taps his own knee at the same time that Dan taps his own finger against his forearm. One, two. We’ll talk about this later.

“Can I ask something that might sound a bit rude?”

“You can ask anything you’d like,” Phil’s neurologist says. She looks inordinately surprised by him even offering to speak, which almost makes Phil laugh again.

“Well, I just,” Phil starts. He doesn’t like the way Dan is staring daggers at him like he’s waiting for Phil to make a wrong move. Purposefully, he angles his body away from Dan to talk directly to the doctor. “I just want to know. Are we running out of things to do here? On the medical side of things, I mean. Is this a last resort, might as well try it, sort of thing? Or do you genuinely think that my brain will work better if I let someone analyze it every week?”

Dan makes some kind of noise. Phil ignores it.

“I believe that psychiatry is a very important tool for recovery in many of my patients,” she says. To Phil, that sounds a lot like a non-answer. He’s pretty well-versed in those himself.

“Okay,” he says, trying to keep his tone level. “So you think this is all in my head?”

“Only in the sense that your head is where you keep your brain,” she says, rather kindly. “And your brain has been through a lot. Traumatic brain injuries can affect you months and even years after the original incident, and I was only suggesting that you consider an avenue that has helped others with symptoms and difficulties following such an enormous thing.”

“I don’t have any difficulties,” Phil says, stubborn. He can feel Dan’s gaze and already knows what he’s thinking, but this isn’t a knee-jerk reaction. He doesn’t think he needs to go to therapy.

“It’s up to you, entirely your decision,” she says, which makes a tense part of Phil relax. He knows that logically, but his anxiety appreciates it being said out loud. “I’ll give you some reading to take home about the benefits of therapy while your brain is in recovery mode, okay? Take some time to think about it before you dismiss it.”

The topic changes to something about blood work that Phil has already heard, so he feels comfortable zoning back out.

He chances a glance at Dan, who is practically vibrating with things that he’s surely desperate to say. Phil taps his own knee again to circumvent the argument happening in front of one of his doctors and watches as Dan’s jaw clenches.

--

Irritability. Phil keeps his eyes fixed on the window in the backseat of their Uber so he doesn’t have to look at Dan. He’s got a throb in his temple and every time Dan makes a noise like he’s about to talk, it makes irrational annoyance spike through Phil. He doesn’t want to snap, but he thinks he might if Dan actually speaks to him. Luckily, the drive is without incident.

Anxiety. Well, Phil already had that going for him, so there’s no way to tell if the brain injury made it worse. The silence between them in the lift lassos Phil’s Worst Case Scenario thoughts into the forefront of his mind. What if Dan has finally had enough of this?

Impaired social skills. The door shuts behind them and Dan turns to face him, hands on his hips. Phil lingers for four whole seconds and then murmurs something about taking a nap, escaping downstairs.

Phil lies on his stomach with his face buried in Dan’s pillow and wonders exactly how many side effects he can check off today. He’s clearly already fucked things up.

--

Obviously, Dan doesn’t let him get away with wallowing alone.

“We’re talking now,” he says, firm. Phil noses further into the pillow for a moment and considers not responding. It isn’t that he wants to make Dan angry, it’s that he doesn’t want to get angry himself, and staying quiet seems like the most effective way to stay calm.

He knows Dan won’t accept that, though. Dan isn’t the type to walk away from Phil, no matter what mood he’s in.

So Phil sighs, rolling onto his back. “I don’t want to go.”

“I can tell,” Dan huffs. “I really think you should, though. Therapy is -”

“No,” Phil cuts him off. He interrupts Dan more often than he interrupts anyone else - due in part to the sheer amount of time that Dan spends talking - but he never likes doing it when they’re having a serious conversation. His head hurts, though, and he can’t lie here and listen to Dan espouse all the wonderful things about getting psychoanalyzed when that’s only a little bit what this is about. “No, Dan, I’m not just talking about therapy.”

A beat. The mattress dips where Dan sits down, but they don’t reach for each other yet. “Okay. What else are you talking about?”

“I don't want to go to the Isle,” Phil tells the ceiling, because that's easier than watching the disappointment crest over Dan's face. “I don’t want everybody asking me questions and looking older and making me feel like I’m broken. I get enough of that here.”

“Excuse me?” Dan asks, and Phil squeezes his eyes shut like he won’t be able to hear the hurt in Dan’s voice if he can’t see. Dan’s palm presses to his thigh, making him jump a bit. “Phil, hey, no. Look at me.”

Phil bites his lip and sits up. He takes a couple of breaths before he opens his eyes, though, letting his anxiety run rampant on what kind of emotions he’s going to see in Dan’s big brown eyes when he does. In the end, it’s primarily confusion. The bad things are there, too, the hurt and disappointment and maybe anger, but it seems like Dan is mostly just unsure why Phil is saying the things he’s saying.

“I don’t want to see my family,” Phil whispers, swallowing around the guilt rising like bile in his throat.

“You love your family,” says Dan. “And you love Christmas.”

“I do,” Phil agrees. His voice is still quiet, like someone other than Dan might hear him if he says it any louder. Dan’s mouth twists unhappily. He tangles his fingers with Phil’s and squeezes, just on the edge of too tight.

“So what’s the deal? I don’t understand.” The admission seems to take something out of Dan. He curls closer to Phil and rests the back of his free hand against Phil’s forehead.

“I don’t have a fever, Dan,” says Phil. He doesn’t duck away from the attention, though, because Dan pushes his fringe off his forehead and leans in to kiss it. The simple action quiets the noise in Phil’s mind so much that he smiles a little bit. “And I’m not going to fucking break, y’know, but I might if I have to be around so many people I barely even know anymore while my head pounds and they act like I’m a teenager.”

Something like comprehension hits Dan’s expression, but he still isn’t happy. “You do know them, though.”

“Not really,” Phil says with a little shrug. “I love them. I’d rather see them separately, though. I don’t want to feel like an animal in a zoo or something, babe.”

“So, what, you want to just stay home?” Dan asks.

His tone makes it sound like that’s ridiculous, unheard of. Phil looks down at their joined hands and lets himself really think about it. What would his family really do if he claimed not to be up for travelling? They’d be disappointed, obviously, and some of them might lay the guilt on a little strong, but.

But. Phil can see it. Christmas morning in this bed, legs tangled with Dan’s and trading lazy bribes for who has to get up and make coffee. Giving Dan his gift under the tree they decorated together, watching the way he’d light up, doing sappy things like dancing to carols in a kitchen they don’t own. It sounds infinitely better than his cousins asking him questions he doesn’t know the answer to and trying not to jump every time Dan holds his hand in front of family members.

“I do,” Phil says, as honest as he knows how to be. “You’re my family, you dork. I want to spend Christmas with you.”

“I’ll be with you wherever we go,” Dan reminds him.

Phil knows that, but it isn’t the same. He doesn’t have to play a role when it’s just him and Dan. He can be a little grumpy and headachy without being paraded around afterwards. He can feel a sense of himself in his favourite holiday instead of forcing himself into a role that he isn’t sure suits him anymore.

“The whole thing has been making me anxious for, like, weeks,” Phil admits. Dan’s brow furrows, but Phil doesn’t have the energy to feel bad for keeping that from him. “I want a lowkey Christmas. I want to just… spend the day with you and make our own traditions and give you the only present I was able to pick out myself. I don’t want to deal with coming out or, I dunno, hearing about all the tragedies I’ve been so fucking lucky to miss out on being around for. I’ll have a headache all week, Dan, and you must know that.”

For a long moment, Dan doesn’t say anything. He raises their joined hands to his mouth and presses soft kisses over the back of Phil’s hand.

“I didn’t know that,” Dan says, quiet. The disappointment is still obvious in his expressive eyes. Phil is fairly sure that Dan couldn’t hide genuine emotion if he tried.

Phil thinks about Dan teasing his mum over not being able to find an app, trading friendly jabs with his dad, making his brother laugh so hard that he’d doubled over at the table, and he realises that this is disappointing to Dan for more than the standard reasons.

He doesn’t know much about Dan’s family - only as much as Dan is willing to share on any given day, which is barely anything at all - but he knows how Dan feels about Phil’s family. Now he’s got a whole new guilt complex. Maybe he ought to suck it up, for Dan’s sake, so that Dan can spend Christmas getting spoiled rotten by Phil’s parents and he can know what it feels like to be loved unconditionally.

“I’ll tell you what,” says Phil. He squeezes Dan’s hand. “If you stay home this Christmas with me, and maybe do dinner with your family or with our friends instead of travelling, then I’ll go to therapy. I won’t even complain.”

Dan makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob and rubs at his eyes with his free hand. “You will,” he says.

“I will,” Phil agrees with a sheepish smile. “But… this is what I want. And I’m sorry.”

“I’ll think about it,” says Dan. Phil has been living in this flat long enough to know that I’ll think about it is basically an acquiescence from Dan, since he tends to make his mind up quick and firm. Dan must see that relief on Phil’s face, because he laughs and leans in for a kiss. “Okay, okay, it’s a good deal. I can even recommend a therapist.”

--

Phil understands why Dan feels comfort here as soon as he sits down. The small office has cushy chairs and a neutral palette, surely designed to put anyone at ease. Phil can see the personal details around it that he knows helped Dan specifically, though. The bookshelf, overflowing with biographies and small giraffe statues; the diplomas bracketing a framed vinyl that Phil doesn’t recognise but is certain that Dan appreciates; the friendly fern in the corner that practically waves at him when the door opens and shuts.

“Hi, Phil,” the young woman says. Her tone is polite but warm, less like a customer service agent and more like a friend of a friend. Her thin dark braids are pulled up into some sort of updo that looks extremely complicated to Phil at a glance. She’s wearing blue jeans and a blouse with birds on it, and Phil can’t help but point to the pattern on his own shirt.

“We match,” he jokes weakly. Surely she can only see his collar, because Dan’s borrowed jacket is obscuring most of his own birds, but she smiles anyway.

“That’s a funny coincidence,” she says, taking a seat. She’s almost directly across from him, but Phil can see the light filtering through the blinds and the happy leaves of her fern clearly if he doesn’t want to look her in the eye. “I’m Robin.”

“I knew that already,” says Phil. He can’t help the apologetic edge, even if he’s not sure what he’s apologising for. Knowing her name? Being here? Imposing on what should be Dan’s space because he’s more broken than he originally thought and doesn’t know how to trust a stranger? Phil wants to verbalise exactly zero percent of that, so he shrugs his shoulders to indicate that he’s sorry and doesn’t want to acknowledge being sorry.

There’s a moment of silence, but Phil doesn’t feel the need to fill it. He wonders if that’s her tactic with Dan, giving him as much opportunity to spill his guts as she possibly can. That probably works well enough for him. The silence just sort of makes Phil itchy.

Finally, Robin nods. She fiddles with her phone for a moment before placing it face-down on the arm of her chair. There’s a notebook in her lap, but she doesn’t open it.

“Okay, so,” she starts, and Phil has to look down at his own hands so he doesn’t look right in her wide, dark eyes. This is nerve-wracking enough without eye contact added onto it. “Today, you and I are just going to get to know each other a little bit. You’ll get a feel for the process more quickly than you’d expect. I’d just like to go over our confidentiality agreement with you first, if that’s alright.”

Phil nods back at her, eyes still glued to his chewed-down nails.

There’s a voice, and surely words are said, but Phil doesn’t retain any of it. He feels a familiar stirring of anger and does his best to ignore it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, genuine. He looks at her mouth to try and really see the words that she’s trying to say. He knows that they’re important, knows that they can’t move forward with this until he hears them. “Can you repeat that? I didn’t…”

He trails off, but Robin smiles encouragingly anyway. “Of course I can, Phil. If I ever say anything that you need me to repeat or if I’m moving too quickly for you, just let me know. And always remember that interrupting me is totally fine, I don’t mind. You’re the one in control here.”

“Thank you.”

Phil kind of wants to make a joke about her interruption rule and Dan, but despite Robin’s assurance of control, he’s not sure that he’d be allowed to. He’s still working through that thought process when he realises that her mouth has stopped moving again and she’s watching him so carefully.

It’s hard not to jump to immediate anger and embarrassment, but Phil swallows those down with his pride and says, “I’m really, I’m so sorry. I didn’t… understand again.”

Robin hums and opens her notebook. For a heart-stopping couple of seconds, Phil is convinced that she’s writing horrible things about him for her colleagues to read later. Of course, that doesn’t happen - the things that Phil’s anxiety convinces him of rarely do - and instead, she simply hands him a ripped-out page. It takes a couple of tries for Phil’s head to stop swimming before he can actually read it.

“That’s our confidentiality clause,” Robin says easily. “Take as much time as you need to absorb it, and then let me know if you have any questions.”

There’s a lump in Phil’s throat at the kind gesture, and he has to take a deep breath before he can focus on the words. He’s never been to therapy before, but nothing about the confidentiality part of it is surprising to him. He can understand, at least, why they have to go over it, and he’s grateful that it’s in plain words for him.

“I don’t have any questions,” he says. He holds the paper out, but Robin shakes her head.

“You can keep that, if you’d like.”

Robin doesn’t say in case you forget again or because you need it. Phil folds the paper into one of Dan’s jacket pockets.

“There’s not a clock in here,” Phil notices. He’d wanted to see how long it took him to absorb such simple information, but it’s kind of a relief not to be able to find one. “I don’t really like clocks.”

“Neither do I,” Robin says, and he thinks she’s just trying to relate to him until she shudders and adds, “They remind me of exams, you know? And watching it tick down gives me some anxiety.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“I keep time on my phone,” she explains, tapping a short fingernail against the back of her phone case. “A quiet beep is going to go off every fifteen minutes so that we both have a better structure of the hour we have together. If that bothers you, I have other methods of timekeeping that don’t involve watching a second hand tick down.”

“That doesn’t bother me,” Phil says honestly. Robin smiles at him in an encouraging sort of way, but he doesn’t have anything he wants to add.

The beat of quiet is left on purpose, he’s sure, before Robin speaks again. “Alright, Phil, let’s get to know each other a little bit. I’d also like to hear what you’re looking to get out of this experience, since I understand the goal here is to be referred to someone permanently?”

Phil doesn’t know about ‘permanently’. He nods anyway.

“Yeah, I think… I thought it would be helpful to see you, since you’re,” he says, and then he can’t figure out how he wants to end the sentence. Since she knows him already, sort of, and knows the situation, and because Dan trusts her and Phil trusts Dan. He decides to finish his thought instead of bothering to find the right words. He’s sure that Robin is smart enough to fill in some blanks herself. “But I know it would be weird for Dan if I kept seeing you. He didn’t say it would be weird, but. It would be. I figured this would be a good…”

He trails off again, twiddling his thumbs, and this time Robin makes a suggestion. “Stepping stone?”

“Yeah, kind of. Is that bad?”

“Nothing you say is bad,” Robin says, almost as if it’s knee-jerk. “I think it’s very telling of how considerate you are, actually. I do a lot of intake for referrals, which you might know or might not, so this isn’t a strange situation for me. I imagine it’s stranger for you.”

Phil laughs. “A little bit, yeah. I don’t really know… what to do.”

“Why don’t you start by telling me a little bit about yourself,” says Robin. She closes the notebook and sets it aside, absent-minded body language that already makes Phil feel more comfortable. It feels less like he’s being analyzed when there isn’t the chance of her scribbling down things he says.

“You already know a lot about me, though. Probably more than I do.”

“I think,” Robin says, and then takes a moment to think before she continues. “I think, Phil, that you’ve had enough people telling you who you are. I want to know who you think you are.”

Another lump in his throat. Phil swallows hard and looks at the fern in the corner, because that’s easier than looking Robin in the eye. There are a lot of things he could say about his sense of who he is and about how it’s felt to be told about himself for the past few months, but all of it feels too personal. He knows that’s what he’s here to do, to talk about his feelings, but that doesn’t mean he’s comfortable with it.

“I’m Phil,” he tells the plant. “I like Buffy and making videos and I really want a dog but I have to buy a house first.”

--

Fatigue. It’s impossible to tell if it’s a symptom or a deep-seated desire to keep Dan in bed longer when Phil has a hard time waking up on Christmas morning. He presses his weight against Dan and nuzzles into his sensitive neck and pretends like he’s not on the verge of falling back asleep at any moment.

Reduced concentration span. Phil has to look at the first couple pages of the scrapbook a few times before it really sinks in. Even then, he still can’t focus on the words. He understands what he’s looking at, sees the Skype usernames and the timestamps from 2009 and his own familiar use of emoticons, but he can’t actually read it right now. He’s too overwhelmed by the gesture. Overwhelmed, too, by how gorgeous Dan looks in his long shirt and bunny slippers and curls an absolute mess and dimples so deep that Phil wants to poke at them. He can’t help but launch himself at Dan in a move that feels, somehow, familiar.

Impulsiveness. Phil might not be an expert on picking presents for his friends or family members anymore, but he knows Dan now. Dan’s fingers are shaky as they flatten out the flight confirmations, and his voice is even shakier when he says, “Tokyo?”

There’s a list of symptoms on their fridge. For the first time since it was put there, Phil doesn’t feel like he’s under a microscope. It’s a good Christmas.

[probably-writing-x]

Player.

Commitment had never been at the top of Shawn's vocabulary. In fact, you were fairly certain it never made the list at all. He didn't like the idea of being tied down and it was apparent in everything he did. From touring, he got bored at home when there for too long. And with relationships, he didn't want to trust them. He much preferred the idea of consuming himself with his career and flitting between meaningless encounters with girls he'd be likely to never see again. But, boy, oh boy, that wasn't going to last long after he met you.

It was a simple meeting. You saw him at the gym a few times in one week and, by the end of that week, you were handing over your number with a delicate smile. There was one proper date, a lot of kissing and a few late nights and then he seemed to lose interest. The 'hookup' phase was over and you were growing tired of only getting texts when he fancied - never with the intention of talking being part of the equation.

Shawn had left for Europe weeks ago now and you'd grown used to the idea that you were just another one on his list, brushing the thought away like it wasn't even one to consider.

And, hell, they were some good few nights...

"Are you even listening? We need to turn off here!" Your brother exclaims, encouraging you to turn the wheel.

"Sorry, sorry, here?" You indicate to turn and shake yourself from your daze, realising your fixation on Shawn had extended from 'Lost in Japan' playing on the radio.

"Yes, here!" He laughs, "What's getting you so caught up?"

"Just, um," You begin, "This song reminds me of something, can't quite think what,"

He cocks a brow at you and rolls his eyes, "I don't want to know,"

You smirk and reach over your hand to hit his arm.

You'd booked tickets for the two of you to go to the Raptor's game in Toronto for your brother's birthday and were currently just pulling into the stadium car park.

"What seats did you get?" Your brother questions, eyeing the standstill queue of cars in front of you.

"I don't remember, the tickets are in my bag," You gesture to the back seat and watch as he reaches over to grab your purse and look for them.

Your eyes then flit to the mirror beside you, showing a clear view of the cars piling in behind you. And an even clearer view of someone getting out of one of them. You notice the curls first. How could you not? They're longer now than when you saw him and they shake as he ducks to clamber out of the car. His long torso is clad in a crisp white hoodie and burgundy jacket and you're picturing the purple marks you'd left still dotting his skin. They've faded by now but your memory hasn't. Shawn laughs and shakes his curls, dragging a hand through them longingly. You picture how rugged they looked once you were finished with them, scattered astray on his head as he made a rumbling comment about how much of a mess you made him. The thought sends a tingle down your spine.

"Are you going?!" Your brother gestures to the windscreen and you see the car in front of you has pulled away.

You accelerate and catch up with the queue, glancing into your wingmirror once again to see Mendes looking back... You're quick to pull your eyes away.

~~~

"Dude, could you find a bigger burger?!" You shake your head as your brother makes his way back over to you balancing his food in his arms and tucking your purse beneath his chin.

"It's my birthday and you're paying, I've gotta make the most of it!" He grins and you take the purse from him.

"Don't get used to it, this is the last day of me being nice to you," You chuckle, "Let's go find our seats,"

You walk through into the stadium and already feel a little overwhelmed by the bustling atmosphere. Your brother senses your uncomfort in situations like this and settles his hand on your shoulder.

"Come on, we're over there,"

You gratefully let him guide you through the crowd, walking alongside one of the front rows of the crowd and completely regretting your decision as soon as one word is spoken.

"(Y/n)?"

Both you and your brother whip your heads round and you're met with the glistening eyes of none other than Shawn.

"Hey, Shawn," You smile, gripping your purse a little tighter to stabilise yourself, "It's good to see you,"

"Yeah, you too," He nods, eyes switching to your company and instantly changing to irritation, "I don't believe we've met buddy,"

He extends a hand to shake that of your brother's and you notice him hold the shake with far too much of a strong grip, knuckles whitening with the pressure.

You clear your throat, "This is my little brother,"

Shawn's mouth drops open a little but he regains himself quickly, "Yeah, yeah, I can really see-" He clears his throat, "The resemblance,"

Your brother looks at you with widened eyes, "We should probably get to our seats,"

"It was good seeing you," You smile lightly and turn to follow your brother's steps.

Shawn settles down into his seat and leans forward, hands settling against his chin as he can't stop his lips from curling up into a small smile. Why did his heart have to flutter like this when you were around?

That was why he had left quickly after a few nights. Because, despite the tiring events of the evening, he couldn't resist the feeling to stay awake and take in the image of you beside him - watching the rise and fall of your chest and the way your lips always parted as you slept. He realised he had to fight back the temptation to tell his mum about 'this girl he's been seeing'. And he realised that no other girl in any other place would compare to that overwhelming feeling in his chest that you brought him. And, damn, he promised himself he wouldn't fall.

~~~

The game kicks off and your brother is utterly invested in the sight ahead, occasionally yelling out along with other fans and taking aggressive gulps of his drink like it aided his stress.

But you, well, you found yourself focusing completely on someone sat beside the court. And you also found yourself remaining your focus when he looked back your way.

He cocked a brow and let a smirk dance on his lips at the sight of you, one foot settled across his other knee as he rolled his boot-clad ankle.

"I just need to find the toilet," You comment to your brother before getting up and leaving quickly, not sure he even listened to your excuse.

And you don't even have to look to know that Shawn follows you instantly.

"It's been a while," He starts from behind you and you stop in your tracks to listen.

When you turn around, surrounded only by the empty corridor around you, Shawn is stood a few metres away. He has one hand in his tight jean pocket and another moves to run through his curls again.

You hum in response, "I think you made a great first impression on the family,"

He looks at you with fiery eyes that melt in their attempts at irritation, "You think this is funny?"

"I think it's amusing that you got instantly jealous, yeah," You smirk, "Care to explain why you care so much?"

He tuts, "I don't care, I just- I was surprised, that's all,"

"And you thought an instant response would be breaking the poor guys hand?" You fold your arms and he clenches his jaw.

"I thought he was my replacement, how else did you want me to act?" He exclaims, another drag of his hand through his hair.

"How could anyone replace a guy who refused to even be there in the first place?" You raise your brows, "It's not like you were ever committed Shawn,"

"It's not like I was with anybody else,"

"And its not like that's my point," You snap back quickly, "So, why did it seem like you cared if I was with someone else?"

Shawn shakes his head and goes to turn away like he's given up on this and one tiny part of your heart accepts that he truly doesn't care for you or for this. And you feel that little bit shatter.

"Because," He stops, now facing away from you, "Because I told myself I wouldn't fall in love with anyone or commit myself to anyone and all of it was meaningless and then-"

He's facing you again and the screams from the crowd feel like white noise against the soft focus of his words.

"And you made me want to stop that shit," He shrugs nonchalantly, "Fuck, (Y/n), you made me weak!"

"I thought players didn't get weak," You mutter because you're never the best at serious moments like this.

Shawn shakes his head and lets out an exasperated sigh of fury, taking a giant stride toward you before cupping your face in his large hands. And then his lips find yours with zero hesitation, pressing against them with every dismissal to delicacy or fear. It is feverish and desperate, determined and passionate. And, soon, you're being pushed against the cold brick wall to stabilise the two of you in his attempts to explore every inch of you that his heart had been craving. The conscious part of your brain is thanking the basketball game for ensuring that this corridor was completely empty but the rest of you couldn't care less - too busy with running your hands into his hair and gripping at the back of his neck to pull him closer into nonexistent space.

But it comes to a vicious end as you pull away in surrender to your screaming lungs.

"Holy shit I've missed you," He mutters at it comes as a deep rumble from his chest, hands kneading your hips like you'd slip away if he held you any looser.

You hum in response, too overwhelmed to say anything to match his words.

"Please, god, let me take you on a proper date or something," He laughs and you settle a hand against his chest to feel it run through his ribs.

"I expect the full show, Mendes," You smirk, "Not just the after party,"

And, with that, his lips are on yours again.

~~~

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @bringmethehorizonandpizza @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny @trap-house-homiecide @shamelessbookaddict @tommydaspidey @oneblckcoffee @darlingtholland @fanficparker @xxtomxo

[monster-mum]

The Stories we keep

One thing I would say I am good at is remembering stories and anecdotes from throughout my life. All types of stories from my past are easily called upon when needed, I am always amazed at the details I can recall. A friend once told me that I have a story for everything. That doesn’t mean I am wiser, it means I have done more stupid stuff in my life, something which seems a consistent theme, even today.

Recalling stories from my life is enjoyable and it gives me a sense of nostalgia. This love for reliving past times has made me someone who is very interested in other people and their stories. People are incredibly interesting and have wonderful stories to tell. I often tell my friends and family about my “plane” friends, “boat” friends or “train” friends. Whichever mode of public transport I take I end up chatting to whoever is unlucky enough to be sat next me. I have heard lovely, funny stories, and I have heard sad and tragic stories. All are stories that deserve to be heard. Sometimes I think people just need to talk, to share something about their lives to a stranger, someone who doesn’t know them and probably won’t see them again. Anonymity holds a certain type of freedom for many, without someone to judge you from your life, who is unlikely to repeat the story to someone you know, it can be an incredible lifeline to many who are bursting and needing to speak to someone.

I have always asked a lot of questions. Maybe that is why I felt Journalism was to play a part in my future. I have never been very good at judging which questions are appropriate and inappropriate though. My Dad used to tell me I was tactless, but he was forgetting I am a mix of my Mum’s interest and intrigue in others and their wellbeing, and my Dad’s Glaswegian abruptness.

I can remember one time on a flight to San Francisco I was sat in the window seat, on a row of three, with two men. I was very excitable as I was heading over to see my best friend, so was naturally a bit hyper. The two men and I began the small talk that most British people will do when they are placed in a situation with those they don’t know. It is like a weird impulse for us Brits. “Right, I don’t know you so I have to say something to prove this isn’t an awkward situation.”  It usually starts with something like “can you believe the weather?” British people are always surprised by the weather and can rarely believe what it is doing. It doesn’t matter if it is raining, sunny or snowing we can never believe it, and we are never 100% happy with it. We would then ask if they’re heading away for a holiday? Etc etc. The conversation takes off from there. This time though I had a bit of a shock when I asked what I though was a simple question, only to be told it was a personal question. Then followed a conversation where I was educated by both men on what all women are like.

Me: “So, you heading to the states for a holiday?”

Man 1 (sat by the aisle): “No for business. I am heading to the gaming convention there to represent the company I work for. It was a last-minute thing, they didn’t book my ticket until last night. Do mind me asking how much you paid for your ticket? I’m just interested in the price difference on the tickets.”

This surprised me as I thought that question would be considered a personal one. I responded with how much I had paid. We discovered that his ticket was around £1,000 more expensive than what I had paid. Can you believe that!

Anyway…

Me: “How about yourself?” referring to the man in the middle seat.

Man 2: “I am also heading to the convention. I am a game designer.”

The two men then discussed some stuff to do with the companies they worked for, and what games were in the pipeline etc. Then the conversation moved on to where in England we all lived and our lives etc. I mentioned I was married with two children and that led on to me asking:

Me: “Are you married?”

Man 1: “That’s a very personal question.”

 Me, very confused: “Is it? Sorry, I didn’t realise.”

 Everything then goes quiet for a bit, then:

 Man 1: “I’m not married, but I have a girlfriend who I have been with for about three years. We don’t live together. I think she is wanting me to propose at some point.”

 Me: “Oh, okay. That’s nice. So, you guys are happy, that’s good.”

 Man 1: “Happy? I don’t know about that. I think I am going to break up with her when I get back. She’s in her thirties now and you know what that means…”

 At this point he nudges the guy next to us and they both share a knowing smile.

 I have absolutely no idea what this means. I, also a woman in her thirties, had no clue as to what they were talking about.

 Me: “What does that mean?”

 Man 1 smiles in a patronising manner at me. I pretended not to notice.

 Man 1: “Well, when a woman gets to thirty she wants to settle down and get married and have children. In fact, (Here he looks at Man 2 and they, again, share the same look as before) when any woman gets into a relationship for three years or longer they put pressure on their partner to get married. All they can see is marriage and babies. All women are like it. I’m not ready for that kind of thing yet. It would’ve been the same for you and your husband. I bet you were the one talking about marriage and children. I bet from a young age you were dreaming of your perfect wedding day.”

 Again, he looks at Man 2 who nods in agreement.

 Meanwhile I am sat completely surprised at this man’s ability to bunch all women into a group of being one track minded individual’s wanting marriage and babies, but also that this “philosophy” of his was something random Man 2 also seemed to be aware of. I had heard of these kinds of “understanding the opposite sex” assumptions before but only on sitcoms like Friends and Frasier etc. I was very surprised to find not one, but two men who seemed to be aware of this.

 Putting aside the blatant sexism I was shocked that he had made some pretty incorrect assumptions about me and the kind of woman I am. Anyone who knows me, and knew me growing up, knows that I have never been the kind of girl to dream of her wedding day, or Prince Charming, or even children. It wasn’t until my Goddaughter was born that I even entertained the idea that at some point, maybe, I might have a child. I was never very keen on children, I found them loud and dirty and annoying. I certainly did not push Chris into proposing. It actually took me about fifteen minutes to process what he was asking me and then say yes. Chris is a very patient man, I am sure I have mentioned this several times in other posts. Anyway, I am not a future planning type of person, I am very much a day to day kind of girl.

 Me: “Oh okay. Well, no I didn’t push my husband into proposing. It was something we had discussed, like making sure we were wanting the same things in the future. No point either of us wasting time on a relationship that wasn’t heading in the same direction. It was a mutual discussion with no pressure applied. I wasn’t looking for marriage and children any time soon but I knew one day I would and he was the same. If anything, he was keener on the marriage thing than I was.”

 At this point Man 1 and Man 2 laugh.

 Man 1: “Okay, but check with your husband. Ask him when you get back home and see what he says. I bet he felt he had to, to keep you happy. Women are all the same that way. Marriage and babies.”

 The conversation then drifted on to other subjects. All I could think was how sorry I felt for this poor woman back in England. Part of me hoped that they would break up and then she could meet someone who didn’t talk about her that way.

 I know many of you readers will be wondering why I didn’t argue my point, or try and reason with these men. You just have to choose your battles. Male, female, whichever you identify as, there are always those people who are so in tuned with their own thoughts and beliefs, no matter how ignorant they are, sometimes there is just no point arguing and trying to correct them. He had come to this conclusion based on what had happened in his life, we are all products of our environment. Right or wrong isn’t so black and white when you become an adult. I try very hard to see both sides of the story and even though I certainly did not agree with his surmising and was offended and hurt by the patronising tone, I continued to talk to him for much of the flight. He was actually a nice guy, maybe a bit misguided in some of his understandings of “all” females but nevertheless he was alright. Just as the plane landed he asked how I was getting to my friend’s house, I said that they were picking me up at the airport. I think it suddenly hit him that I was a female travelling alone. He offered to help me with my suitcase and asked me if I wanted him to escort me to arrivals to meet my friends. I didn’t find this patronising or an affront to my feminist rights. I found it comforting and kind. Yes, he was likely doing it because I was a female and there are many traditional beliefs and values that lead many to think we are safer with a man to protect us, but I have offered the same to other women and men. How does his kindness differ from that of me offering?

  What is the point of me telling you this story? Well, to be honest I could take it in many different directions. This interaction I had to many would’ve seemed like nothing special, just another awkward stranger conversation. To me though it is a story that I can retell in many situations to others which may make them laugh, be outraged, be comforted or even inspired by. It is so important to hold on to the stories of how you have become you. It is the happy, the sad, the angry, the shocked, surprised, tragic and embarrassing moments that add to building of who we are. They shouldn’t be devalued and certainly not forgotten. I believe everything happens for a reason. Whether you believe in a God or Karma, or even just hope, knowing that these interactions and experiences amount to me makes me want to remember them more because one day, one of these stories of mine may well be the very thing that helps someone. Everything for a reason, a type of hope.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Barcelona is for Lovers - Chapter 5

Chapter 5!  Many thanks to @stupidsatsuma for beta’ing.  @doctorroseprompts​

Chapter 6 will be available on April 21st; chapters are posted every other Sunday

General warnings for: hanky panky.  Take the ‘lovers’ part of the title seriously.  

Masterlist

Summary

Three months after Rose and the Doctor are reunited and promptly ditched on a beach in Norway, they are still trying to find their feet.  Rose plans a trip to Barcelona for them to relax, reconnect, and hopefully consummate their relationship.

Rose woke the next morning to tea on the nightstand, blinking blearily at the mug.  “Wha’?”

“Good morning!”  She wasn’t sure how it was possible for him to be twice as Tigger-like as the day before, but he launched himself onto the bed next to her making the whole mattress shake.  “How are you, my love?”

“Still riding the endorphins, huh?” she teased, rolling over to kiss him.  They’d called it an early night, the day of sightseeing followed by a spectacular, much-needed orgasm each having drained their energy.

“It’s a beautiful day, let’s go to the beach,” the Doctor declared, boldly slipping his hand under the hem of her negligee to settle firmly on her bumcheek.  “Sand, sun.  Whatever.” He squeezed, making her yelp out a laugh.

“Bit cheeky there, aren’t you?”

“Dunno, seems to me like you’re all cheek.”  His other arm wriggled its way between her and the mattress to cup the other side of her bum and pull her towards him.

Rose moaned, kissing him deeply as his hands wandered over the curves.  “Maybe you should spank me.”

She froze when he did, pulling back slightly and opening his eyes.  “Is that… something you like?”

Eyes widening slightly, she studied his deer in the headlights expression.  “Not historically,” she considered, “but then again, they didn’t ask, just did it.  Maybe it’s something we could explore?  At some point?”

“Anything you want.”  He was still frowning, and she sighed, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“Stop thinking about the past,” she whispered.

The Doctor’s face smoothed out.  “I’m thinking about what sort of bathing suit you’re going to wear today.”

“Got a request?”

He hesitated, and Rose perked up in interest.  She could see something percolating in the back of his mind, and hoped he felt comfortable enough to share it.  “Actually…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe scarlet?  And/or orange?”

“Okay.”  Surprised, she tried not to show it.  “Can I ask why?”

The Doctor licked his lips.  “Does it matter?”

“No.”  Rose rested one hand on his chest, over his heart.  “You don’t have to tell me.  But if you ever want to…”

He nodded, darting forward to kiss her.  “Another time.  For now, though, tea, breakfast, then beach!”  Gently pulling his arm free he jumped from the bed, peering out the window.  “Not a cloud in the sky!  Shake a leg!”

Rose climbed out of bed, taking a sip of her tea and stretching before accusing, “You just want to see me in a bikini.”

“Less, ideally.”  He grinned, unrepentant.  “Allons-y!”

It took them an hour to get ready but once they were down on the shore, she had to admit it was the perfect day.

“Water?”  Having already removed his shoes and shirt the Doctor was bouncing on his toes, raring to go.

Rose smiled, rolling her eyes at the oversized five-year-old.  “Yeah, all right.”  Kicking off her own sandals, she pulled off her cover-up before hesitating.  A glance around showed no one in sight, and biting her lip, she deliberately untied her top and put it in her bag with her other things.  “Okay.”  He glanced at her, doing a double take, and she shrugged innocently.  “What? I don’t want tan lines.”

“Come on.”  He offered her his hand, and they ran into the water together shrieking.

They played together for more than an hour, swimming and splashing before the Doctor wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly to him.  “There’s snorkeling gear in the bag – d’you want to have a go?”

“I’ve never snorkeled before,” she pointed out.  “But if you’re willing to teach me, I’ll try.”

“See, that’s why we’re such a good team,” he beamed down at her.  “When one’s unfamiliar with something, the other takes the time to teach them so we can enjoy it together.”  His meaning was abundantly clear even before he tweaked her nipple.

“You saying you want me to teach you about sex?” Rose shot back, unsurprised when he nodded.  “Well, let’s see how snorkeling goes, yeah?”  He scrambled out of the water, grabbing the supplies before hightailing it back to her as she laughed.  “Eager, are we?”

He scanned her figure, eyes lingering as expected on her chest.  For someone who claimed to be unpredictable, his tastes certainly weren’t.  “Something like that.”

She shook her head, holding a hand out.  “Let’s get started.”

It wasn’t easy, breathing underwater through a tube wasn’t quite instinctive, though she did feel better when the Doctor struggled as well.

“Sorry,” he said, as they headed up the beach to their things, “I didn’t know it was so hard.  In all honesty, I’ve never done it before.”

“Why would you, with a respiratory bypass?” she let him off the hook, smiling reassuringly.  “It’s all right.  I’m glad we tried it, but let’s stick to just the masks.”

The Doctor stopped walking, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him so he could kiss her.  “I love you,” he muttered against her mouth. “So much.”

“I love you too.”  She kissed him back, rising onto the balls of her feet to wrap her arms around him.  Soft sand between her toes, warm sun on her skin, and they were pressed tightly against each other with nary a stitch between them from the waist up.  “Want to go snog on the beach?”

“Um, yes!”

They made dinner together, steaks on the grill and a nice tossed salad.  Rose carried the wine out to the table, pouring two glassfuls as the Doctor served the food.

She took one bite of the steak and moaned.  “Bloody ‘ell, Doctor, this is absolutely brill- what’s wrong?”

He had stopped dead, staring off unseeingly behind her.  His fork halfway to his mouth, he barely appeared to be breathing.  A quick glance over her shoulder showed nothing out of the ordinary, and biting her lip, she gently reached for him.

“Doctor?”

He came alive all at once, shaking his head and taking his bite.  “Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?”  Rose was careful to keep her voice light, open and inquisitive without being interrogating.  Since arriving in this universe he’d been pretty good about sharing things, but not everything.  He was like a puppy or toddler - if you gave chase he’d head for the hills, but give him a little space and he’d come to her sooner or later.  Usually sooner.

“I was just… the little garden back there… what was the name of the station?”

“What station?”

“The train- where we got the car.”

“Oh!  Perpignan.”

“Perpignan,” he repeated.  “Okay.”  And he stuck a large forkful of lettuce in his mouth, making a show of chewing.

Rose waited until he was done.  “D’you want to talk about it?”

The Doctor stared down at his salad as he stabbed at it.  She kept eating, trying to keep the pressure off.  If she pushed too hard he tended to shut down, but if she let it be, more often than not he’d share.

They were halfway through the meal when he spoke quietly.  “The garden reminded me… I used to travel with a girl named Peri.  She was a botany student from the States.”

“Ah.  Were you- was she with you long?”

He snorted.  “Too long, I’m sure she’d say.  She met me right before a regeneration, and while the first was fine the second… it didn’t start well.  That body was… a bit on the abrasive side.  She didn’t like that me very much.”

“What happened?  To her, I mean.”

The Doctor shrugged, leaning back with a sigh.  “She died, but she didn’t. I think there’s still multiple versions of her running around.  Just thinking about it gives me a headache.  Various versions of her traveled with me.  But they also didn’t. Some married this warrior king we met on our last proper adventure in various ways.  The Time Lords… politics is politics, and she was used as a pawn by a number of factions.  It’s complicated, suffice to say.”

“Oh.”  Rose searched for a suitable reply but came up empty.  “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”  He started eating again, as she wrinkled her nose.

“Wait, sorry, what does that have to do with the train station?”

The Doctor began laughing, leaning back as he guffawed, making her raise an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic action.

“Doctor?”

“Her name,” he snorted, shaking his head and taking a sip from his wine.

“Peri?”

“Short for Perpugilliam.”

“You’re kidding me.”  Rose’s draw dropped.  “Seriously? That was her name?”

“She was born in the 60s.”  He shrugged, grinning at her flabbergasted expression.  “She pretty much always went by Peri, but, yeah – Perpugilliam.”

“Poor girl,” Rose muttered, staring out at the horizon as she considered it.  She hadn’t always been fond of her own name – especially not when they were studying Romeo and Juliet in school – but now, she was thankful her parents had gone for something simple.  And easy to spell.

“If you think that’s bad…” the Doctor teased, drawing her attention.

“Yeah?  Come on, out with it!  It is your name?  Bet it’s even worse,” she shot back, straightening with anticipation.

He just smirked, shaking his head.  “My name’s the Doctor, Rose, I thought we’d long since covered this.  No, I was thinking of another Time Lord- well, Time Lady, in this case.”

“Yeah?”

The Doctor hesitated, watching as she bounced with anticipation.  “My friend Romana?”

“From Paris?” Rose remembered vaguely from their conversation on the train.

“Yep.  Romanadvoratrelundar.”

“Gesundheit.”

“Danke schön.”

“You’re killing me here,” Rose giggled.  “Can you say it again?”

“Which one? Perpugilliam?  Or Romanadvoratrelundar?”

“Wow.”  She just shook her head, draining her glass before popping the last bite of steak into her mouth.  “Just… wow.”

“See?  Nothing wrong with nicknames,” he smirked, pouring her more wine.  “Look at your own mum – who ever calls her ‘Jacqueline’?”

“Fair point.”  Rose settled back in her seat as he dove into his likely now-cold meal with relish, cradling her wine glass to her chest.  “So, have a number of your friends run off with alien men, then?”

He tilted his head in consideration, chewing thoughtfully.  “A handful.  Well, not all were alien men, but still.  Erm- one, Jo, she was my assistant when I was at UNIT, the one before Sarah.  She met a professor who wanted to go off and protest… something, and save the world, and she wanted to go with him.  Within a few days, they were engaged.”

“Now, that’s a fast relationship,” Rose commented with a grin.  “What happened to them?”

“Oh, a lifetime of environmental and political activism.  Seven children, twelve grandchildren at last count.  I popped by once in a while to check on her, but I never- she never saw me.”

She hummed in reply.  “Anyone else?”

“My granddaughter.”

She froze, barely breathing as she took in his statement.  He’d mentioned, casually, not long before they’d been separated that he’d been a father, not that she’d been able to get him to expand on that.  But a grandfather?  “Oh?”

The Doctor pushed back abruptly from the table, coming around to offer her his hand.  She took it automatically, and he led her over to the couch where they curled up together.  Rose allowed it, but didn’t miss that he’d positioned them so she couldn’t see his face.

“Yes.  We were on Earth, 22nd century, and… she met a boy.”

“And she left?”  His arms tightened around her, and she had a feeling of foreboding.  “Doctor?”

“I left her,” he whispered into her hair, and her heart stopped.  “I knew she’d never leave me, so I left her.  Locked her out and took off, as she pounded on the door.”

Now, I've just got to go and power up the Game Station. Hold on!  One of her last clear memories on the GameStation came to mind, how he’d tricked her.  Sure, she’d been stuck inside the ship, but she’d pounded on the door, begged him not to.  Because of Bad Wolf blocking most of those memories that was her last clear image of that Doctor before he regenerated, his quick smile and gung ho attitude, filling her with confidence and hope.  False hope.

She didn’t know if it made her feel better or worse to know he’d treated his own flesh and blood, his granddaughter, just the same.  It also explained quite a bit – like why he was always so certain she’d meet someone and run off, leaving him behind.  Or why he never fought harder for her to stay.  Why he pushed her away.

“Do you know-”

“They got married.”  He shrugged, the movement shifting her against his chest.  “I know they raised children, though I don’t know if they were biological – she probably wouldn’t have been capable of that.  Gallifreyans were long since sterile.”

Rose’s spine stiffened, her mother’s babbling about grandchildren echoing through her mind.  “What about us?”

“What about us?”

“Would we be able to-”

“Have children?” he finished, sounding surprised.  “No idea- hadn’t thought about it.  Is that… something you’ve thought about?”

“Thought about?  Of course.  I don’t know what I want, necessarily, but I’ve thought about it.”  She’d dreamed about it, been unable not to imagine herself in that situation as she watched her mum’s pregnancy then Tony growing up.  How he might dote on a tiny daughter, giving a pretend tea party his all.  How he would show a toddler son how rain and dirt made mud, and what fun it was to make Jackie and Rose yell.

“Oh.”

Rose bit her lip, shifting on his lap to be able to see him.  “Mum, however, has been buying me baby name books since you got here.”

He blanched, arms squeezing her.  “I’m open to the conversation – later.  Much later.  That’s as much as I can promise.”

“Oh, is that it?”  The moment felt too heavy, too real, and Rose sought to diffuse it, grinning cheekily.

“Yes?”

“Well, ‘s just- I thought you were interested in practicin’, is all.”

“Practicing?”

Rose shifted on his lap so she was straddling him, letting him see her smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing images of tiny newborns cradled in his long arms out of her mind.  “Practice makin’ the babies.”

After a moment his expression lightened, and he snickered.  “Well, you know me – be ready for anything.”

Combing her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, Rose let her smile fade.  “I won’t ask, if you don’t want me to, but- I hope you know you can talk about it, with me.  Any of it.  Past companions, your family, Gallifrey… I love you, and I’m interested, but I know it’s a sensitive subject so I won’t push.  Just know that I’m here.”

He grew serious as well, nodding slowly.  “No promises, but- thanks.”

Rose held his gaze for a long moment, willing him to see her sincerity, before she changed the subject.  “Now- let’s go dive into that chocolate cake we bought, yeah?”  She climbed off his lap, offering him a grin with her hand, and he reciprocated both.

“Oh, I know better than to stand between a Tyler and her chocolate!”

[florchis]

Could you do some headcanons for FitzHunter where Fitz is demisexual?

I sure can! As always, such a pleasure! Sorry for the delay, but this got insanely long. This is part of the love bites so deep universe, because apparently I live there now? Also, because Fitz 

in this universe, and I wanted to try a different approach than the one I did last time. Also tagging @theclaravoyant because I think this might be her jam?

Heavy mentions of sex and some bad experiences associated with sex. Light mentions of child abuse (similar to canon), internalized homophobia, attempted coercive behaviour in regards to sex. Under a cut because, again, insanely long.

Unsurprisingly, Fitz doesn’t tell him, but instead, it’s Simmons the one who spills the beans. She sees a hickey Hunter is not really trying to hide barely two weeks after he met them, and her face moves quickly from cheerfulness to wariness.

I hope you are taking it seriously, and somehow her tone is more hopeful than admonishing.

When Hunter corners her trying to get her to say something else, she bails, clearly worried that she already said too much.

It leaves him munching on his nails, wondering, but he doesn’t ask.

He doesn’t ask, but he starts playing closer attention, to the way Fitz doesn’t even raise his head when an extremely handsome guy passes them by, or to the way he does look slightly uncomfortable whenever the girls start getting handsy when they are still present. He doesn’t ask, but he notices.

For all that he has had kind of a reputation of being a bad boy, Hunter has always been happy with letting his partners set the pace of their sexual relationships. He is not an animal: he has needs, but he knows how to take care of them perfectly well on his own. Fitz can take all the sweet time he wants.

When two months have passed and Fitz stops the umpteenth make out session to go hide out in the bathroom, Hunter wonders if an intervention might not be in order. Not to coerce him into sex, of course. But for Fitz to… talk to him. To let him know if there is something that is making him uncomfortable. If Hunter can do something different for his benefit. If he might need to change his expectations from ‘not now but sometime’ to ‘never’. (He actually tries to not think too hard about it, because his first instinct was to think that he would have to work around it, instead of thinking of a way to nope out of this relationship asap, and that is a terrible sign that he’s in this way too deep already).  

The next chance he gets, he takes Fitz out to the pub where they had their “first date”. Adam puts a match on the TV just for them, and they don’t get much talking done after that, too busy bickering and throwing peanuts at each other’s faces.

When Fitz places his hand dangerously up on Hunter’s thigh, his eyebrows rose up, but he doesn’t move away and, still, he doesn’t ask. They make out like teenagerssss all the way back home, stopping on every corner to press each other against a wall.

When they get to Fitz’s place, he asks for a minute to get a water bottle, because he is feeling too hot and bothered, and he needs to slow down and adjust his expectations. When he gets back from the kitchen, Fitz is waiting for him sitting on the bed, and Hunter can’t even finish uttering his If you ever want to stop, just s- that Fitz is tumbling him on the bed, kissing him senseless.   

He makes sure to check with him several times through the night, not only verbally, and the sureness on Fitz’s eyes takes his breath away every time.

Still, he doesn’t ask.

The next morning, he jumps in the shower as usual- sex or not, this is not his first time sleeping over-, and he gotta say that he is a little surprised when Fitz- sleepy eyes and a serious case of bedhead- joins him.  

Only when they are past the kisses and the jokes and the bum-grabbing and the biting stage, and onto the ‘let me wash your hair’ one, Hunter does ask.

Fitz sighs and his fingers tense up against Hunter’s scalp, but just when Hunter is about to tell him to drop it, he starts talking. He tells him that he was nineteen and a virgin and a lot of people was talking behind his back and no matter how much Jemma tried to downplay it, the peer pressure still got inside his head. That’s how he ended up taking out the next girl who asked him out and he kissed her and he even let her take him to bed. And it was Awful, with Capital A.      

He realized quickly that it was not a matter of “the wrong gal”, that there was no blame to put on her, but instead of taking him into a path of discovering alternatives to allosexuality, the experience sent him into the path of discovering alternatives to heterosexuality.

It was not an easy road devoid of bumps, the ghost of his father ever present inside his head, but with the unwavering support of both his mum and Jemma, he eased into his attraction to men quite nicely. And boy, was he into men.

They run out of hot water by the time Fitz tells him that dating men come to him more natural than any interaction with women ever was, not taking Simmons into account, of course. Hunter tells him to keep with the story, towels both of them off quickly, and then they get under the covers, still naked, while Fitz tells him that while the romance part and even the kissing part were great, he still wasn’t finding his footing in regards to sex. Hunter notices that he is blushing and stuttering a lot more than when they weren’t face to face, so he pulls the covers over their heads. This way they barely can see each other, but their intermingled legs and his hand on Fitz’s chest let him know that he is still here, and he is more than okay with this. He scoots over really close, as much skin touching as possible, his lips close enough to drop kisses on Fitz’s face every now and then, and Fitz’s voice drops and his heart rate slows down. Hunter kisses his closed eyelids before telling him to keep going, if he wants.  

Fitz tells him that he had sex with two guys, and it wasn’t as awful as his first time was, but still they weren’t exactly enjoyable experiences. There are tears on the corners of his eyes when he says that after the first one he forced himself to go through another one, because he was convinced that his lack of desire was internalized homophobia, and he wanted to spite on it and on all the toxic shit his father ingrained in his brain. Hunter kisses the tears away, holds him close until the sobs subside. He murmurs a lot of things against his skin, about how he is amazing, and beautiful and worthy of everything and has every right to all his feelings and how he never should feel less because of them. He is not sure Fitz actually hears him, but it doesn’t matter: from now on, Hunter will tell him how many times are necessary for him to believe it.

When he has calmed down a bit, Fitz kisses Hunter on both his temples, between his eyebrows, on the tip of his nose. It’s the most intimate moment he has ever shared with someone, but he doesn’t tell him that.

“But this is not a sob story, let me tell you the part of the story where it gets better.” So he tells him, briefly, about this ex that Hunter has already heard mentioned here or there, and how he got assigned to a research center on a different city just two days after they started seeing each other. It was insane to settle on a long distance relationship after so little of a relationship itself was formed, but they stayed friends, chatting almost every day,  sharing their daily life with each other, so much that every time Jemma caught him on the phone with this guy, she would make moony eyes at him until Fitz threw something at her head.

When after six months the guy got back to London, they decided to go grab a beer together. There were no second intentions, at least not on his part, Fitz swears, but the moment he saw him, there was an intense desire coursing through his veins like he never felt before. He knew this person, beautiful inside and out, and, in a way, he has presented his flaws and his soul bare for him, and Antoine still liked him, and that was working like a bloody aphrodisiac for him.

Hunter tries his best to not feel jealous, but it’s hard, because he really really likes this man; to clear up the air a little, he flips Fitz on his back and tickles him on all the weak spots he is already familiar with, with a teasing Basically you are telling me that I should never let you go for beers with anyone, because that always seems to work a little too well for you. Fitz rolls his eyes, but he moans when Hunter grazes his ribs with his teeth, and the story gets derailed for a while.  

It is easier to hear him wax out poetics about some other man while he still can feel Fitz’s post-orgasm accelerated heart rate under his hand.

“To tell it short, it was good, really good, in a way I didn’t know sex could be good. He was six months stationed in London and we were together for that while, but then he got assigned permanently to run a training center in Canada, and we parted amicably. Amicably meaning that it bloody broke my heart, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault, so there was no use in being bitter about it. After that, I decided that I would never have sex with someone without having feelings for them first.”

Hunter’s heart thrums inside his chest, because the implication of what Fitz just said is really clear, and he is at the same time not truly ready to accept them, and delighted to know about them. His mouth is dry like a desert while Fitz looks at him with his unwavering gaze, and licking his lips doesn’t do them any good, so he tries to deflect the attention, “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I have noticed that telling people gives them… expectations. It feels like they are all the time glooming over my shoulder, expecting a change from me. That makes me feel like I’m a bad person, because if I don’t want to have sex with them, it’s because I don’t care about them, when nothing could be further from the truth. I don’t feel sexual attraction unless there are feelings, but the opposite is not necessarily true. Simmons found out the actual word for it, demisexuality, and I love it because it’s me, it helped me realize that my experience was valid and that I was not alone in the way I feel, but people either get freaked out by labels they don’t understand or lowkey bullies you for considering yourself a very special snowflake.”

“Morons that reacted that way didn’t deserve your attention in the first place”

“That is true. All in all, after I stopped telling possible partners, there had been people who waited for me to take the first step without many questions asked, and people who have tried to pressure me before I was ready, and I fled from those as fast as I could. No one was interested in knowing the story.”

Something softens big time inside Hunter at hearing that, something that even blocks his need to go back in time and strangle all the assholes that tried to disrespect the basic concepts of consent and bodily autonomy with him. His voice is trembling when he speaks,  “Until me.”

Fitz is smiling at him, his thumb drawing lovely paths on Hunter’s jaw, and there is something in his eyes that  sends his stomach into a frenzy, “That’s right, Lance Hunter: until you.”    

Here you can read my headcanon about demisexual Fitz that runs closer to canon (ft. Fitzsimmons).

Send me an ask for AOS queer headcanons/aesthetics. 

[epicfics]

Humans Fic: 15 After Zero - 1) Know My Name

A/N: I wasn’t sure whether I should try this, as it’s so unorthodox. But my blog was feeling stale, so I did it anyways!

I’m sorry if I get the British educational system messed up, I tried to be as vague as possible but some things you can’t fake.

My name is Louisa Bell. I like football and electronica, and my favourite colour is red.

I recite these things like an actress, loud enough for a fly on the wall to hear, but not my mother. But even as I speak to the girl in the mirror, she mocks me with silence, her dark curls and hazel eyes stripping every word of it into a lie. Even the last bit – I doubt you’ll ever be so unfortunate to need to lie about your favourite colour.

But for me, the world is held together by a connected sharpness; the pitch of black, the blinding of white, and every vivid detail in between. There is no simple answer for anything.

Tension clenching my shoulders like claws, I close my eyes and allow my mind to run backwards in time. Memories flicker like brief commercials, until I settle upon one of Sophie Hawkins. Her medium-length hair is plaited back, displaying the silver chain around her neck – I’d given her the heart charm myself just before she left for university. With a wistful smile, she says, “This planet doesn’t need more people like me. It needs more like you.” Easy words for a girl who grew up like a flower under a sunbeam. I had about all the optimism of a lemon. And there isn’t enough sugar in the world for Sophie to sweeten that into lemonade.

I open my eyes to a bedroom that looks like the aftermath of a disaster film, surrounded by clothes that haven’t yet made it to the wash, and unlikely ever will. Household-cleaning Synthetics had stopped being manufactured altogether when I was seven. When the war hit its peak.

Mum reminds me it’s not safe to start attending school now. Some groups of Green-Eyed Synths are more radical than others, and I cannot speak against them or I will be in danger. I cannot speak for them, or I will be in danger.

“Lou?” Mum’s distant summons from the foyer is expected, as is what follows. “I’m not kidding around – if you want to stay home, feel free to just ignore me.”

Understandably, the situation has made her a bit terse. The news has never been easy on us, but when justice for Day Zero had at last been fully served two years ago, we’d needed to relocate to Bristol. In London, our name has spread like a virus through every district, and my last act before we moved away had been to temporarily paralyse a boy in another class that was organising a guerrilla-style revolt on a Synth army. Undoubtedly, here as Louisa Bell I would be commended for using my skill with pressure points to prevent tragedy. I would be famous as a holistic medicine practitioner rather than a crossbred creature.

“Louisa!”

I sigh, looking at the face in the mirror one more time. My father’s face.

My favorite colour is a prism. I like sharp objects and fire, and the sound of water crashing with the wind makes me feel alive. My name is Louisa Hawkins, and when I grow up I want people to know it.

 *** 

From Google Maps, Bristol looks largely like one large postcard-ready suburban utopia. Our neighbourhood seems to have sprung up out of a golf course. The school is a pile of neatly-stacked copper coloured bricks on a patch of black concrete. Mum sits in the driver’s seat of our parked compact car, shaking her head.

“What?” I ask her, ready to get out.

She mutters, “It looks like Waltringham.”

Waltringham, one of the earlier Synth free communities in England. Or as my grandmother calls it, Pleasantville 2020.

“Cool,” I say, blatantly nonchalant, opening the door with a click and a punch.

“Lulu?” I turn my head at the sound of my nickname. She uses it whenever she’s thinking about my father. But I know what she’s worried about.

I step out of the car and say, “I promise, Mum. I know what’s at stake this time.”

“Actually, I was gonna say…” she drew a breath. “It might not be worth it. You shouldn’t have to force yourself into this other person. It’s not healthy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her, although I also want to laugh. Does anyone tell a chameleon not to change.

It’s only the third time we’ve been through this. Each year I make a mistake that pushes me further towards prison. And my father is not in prison anymore.

I can’t meet him if he doesn’t know where to find me.

I slam the car door shut and make my march toward Pleasantville 2.0.

 *** 

Contrary to my mother’s anxiety, the only fear I really had for today was being underdressed. I was expecting tidy jumpers and slacks, rather than biker jackets and jeans. Thankfully, I’m not entirely out of place here.

My classes run by quietly. Only when teacher announces discussion groups for current events does a knot in my stomach start stretching, waiting. We’re to choose a freestyle debate topic – an insane idea, really, as a band of fourteen-year olds might not grasp logic before passion in arguments better than some college kids can.

To my right, Owen is scribbling our ideas onto scrap paper. “New taxes. Continuing effects of Brexit. Copyright rules on fan-generated media.” He frowns. “No one’s gonna suggest resolution for the Green-Eye War?”

Well, I’d known that was coming. To be cool, I raise my eyebrows patronisingly and say, “I’d rather avoid starting a war in here.”

Clearly confused, Owen asks, “But who here’d want to side with the Synths?”

“You tell me, if you’re the one who wants to do a two-sided debate on it.”

“She’s got you in one, Owen,” says the girl on my right. Veronica. Striking, with dark red hair, and fair skin surrounding ruby lips and eyes as blue as a swimming pool. “Although, I don’t know why we’d rather spare this box of morons when anarchy is so much more fun.”

Her eyes catch mine, and she winks. And…I’m in love.

“Right, well because you said it,” sighs Owen, circling a topic. “Copyright issues it is. “Veronica will be on the side of the Internet, I’ll take on the concerns of the copyright - .”

She warns, “I will slaughter you.”

Showing no sign of fear, Owen then points at me, “Louisa, is it? You’ll play moderator.”

I twist my lips in frustration. I should be used to this designation as my former classmates refused to allow me more active participation, but still. New school, new rules.  “You reckon I’ll be better at listening to you both argue than having my own say?”

“What, you know right now already you’ll be good at this debate?” says Owen, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose. He stares at me in doubt.

“Probably. I’m good at everything.”

“Bully for you.” He groans, and then says to Veronica, “I suppose that’s the real debate right here.”

Veronica laughs, the sound bearing the carefree joy of a child. “Can you blame her though? You just went about putting us all in our places without any help.”

Looking as helpless as though Veronica paralysed him with pressure points herself, Owen snaps, “Okay. It’s Anarchy, 1 at Law and Order, 0. Little Miss Good-at-Everything gets to play the side of the copyright holders.” Then he leaves us to report our decision.

I smile sweetly in his direction and say softly, “Such a nice guy.”

Veronica snorts at this. “You can take the position of the content creators. I don’t mind a challenge.”

“Neither do I,” I confess. And while her smile warms me, I also think, I have no experience with the subject. I’ve never done anything creative in my life. In truth, I would be better moderating the debate between Veronica and Owen. But I hate it when my choices are made for me.

“By the way,” Veronica interrupts my thoughts. “That classroom war over the Synths? Already happened last year.”

I take care to ensure my tone is neutral before asking, “How did it end?”

Veronica smirks. “Bloody. About half of us wanted to crack down and use government resources to research a way to shut down all of their systems externally. Of course, there’s no telling how such a hack through that electronic network would affect other co-existing electronic networks. Your smart microwave could turn on and blow up your house!”

I shudder at this, but Veronica continues, “The rest of us, being the awesome freaks that we were, suggested looking for a truce with Leo Elster. Since, you know, he’s got some sway for all of it, being the son of the man that created them ,and the mastermind of Day Zero.”

Mastermind? There was no mastermind of Day Zero. Only a girl trying to save a Synth’s life, and later on a boy trying to save hers.

Does he have that much influence over the warring Synths, though? Doubtful, or there would be nothing to fight about now. But then, he’s only been out of prison for two years, thanks to my grandmother Laura’s strenuous efforts to get his sentenced reduced. For all I know, he could be starting a change.

I’ve never met Leo Elster. He was arrested before I was born. He claimed responsibility for delivering consciousness to every Synth on the planet so my mother didn’t have to. I’m not supposed to see him yet, not until Mum has deemed us safe. With who we are haunting our shadows, we’ll never be safe. Yet still, Veronica’s endorsement on his behalf makes me want to run out and find him. And maybe grab her by the arm and take her with me?

I want to say all this aloud and more. But with Owen returning, I shrug instead. “I wouldn’t know anything about it.”

Inwardly cringing from Veronica’s crestfallen expression, I open my notebook and write, Why Copywriters Should Negotiate a Truce –

I stop, rereading what I’ve just jotted down.

Maybe Leo Elster can negotiate a truce. Or maybe I can. With him. Because with the girl sitting next to me as living proof that there are humans with goodwill towards conscious Synthetics, I realise I may be able to reach people in a way that he, closed off as he is, cannot.

Forget what Mum said. By the synthetic additive in my DNA, I’ll find my father all on my own.

to be continued

[thoseofgreatambition]

for the birds (pt. 2)

pt one | liar | 1.9 K

pt two | rose colored | 2.6K

pairing: george x american!reader. fred lives!au

warnings: general pg 13 things. slight angst. 

a/n: i’m loving this so much! i’m so excited. feedback is very welcome!

TAG LIST: @hermione-who @dramioneandicecream @bangtanbookfrog242 @whyarentyoulaughingj @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @blusnowflakee @draco-can-slytherin @curiouschild @yourslytherinprincess

When you were a little girl, you’d always wondered why people were so impressed by your family and their houses. Not to mention how surprised they always were when they came to the Nest where you lived and found out that while it was a beautiful home, it was a far cry from the mansion that people expected. 

People always went on and on about the value of gold, but they never talked about how soft the metal was and how it hardly held up well to time. 

You let out a sigh, as you stared up at the ceiling-- having rolled off of George long ago, your pillow talk coming and going as you both drifted off to sleep and then back awake. 

“I love you.” You giggled just a bit as you looked over at him, surprised to hear him speak. 

“I thought you were sleeping.”

George shook his head before rolling so he was on his side and able to trace your your cheekbones to your lips. He took in every inch of you that he could. The girl he’d been in love with for years. The girl he’d run away with in a heartbeat if you so much as asked him to. 

His thumbpad ghosted over your lips and you pressed a gentle kiss to the calloused skin. 

“You know, now’s about the time that you say it back to me again.” 

“I love you George Weasley.” 

He pressed a kiss to the bridge of your nose and grinned, “Say it again please.”

“I love you George Weasley.” 

His bare skin was warm against yours and you wondered if it was possible to pass away from being too happy. 

“Once more.”

“I love you.” 

This was the best part. It was always the best part. The calm before everyone else finds out about you and who you’re dating. The respite before the storm destroyed your home. Before the windows were shattered and the door frames bent and broken. 

“Let me take you out for dinner tomorrow. Or tonight, I supppose-- seeing as it’s three in the morning.” he frowned, when you quickly shook your head. “What is it?” 

You didn’t want to go outside. 

You wanted to stay in here, in this room, in the Burrow suspended in time like you were right now. 

“It’s going to turn into a frenzy, when they find out we’re dating.” you wondered how you could say this without sounding like you weren’t overjoyed to be with him. “We won’t get much privacy. I just want to enjoy it for a few days.” 

His brow furrowed a bit, “Why would they care though? It’s just me you’re with. I’m not anyone important--”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” 

He kissed your hand, “’m not trying to be self deprecating, love, but I’m not some fancy politician or an heir. I’m just me. I don’t see why there’d be a big fuss over it.” 

You looked frightened, almost, and George let out a sigh. “Alright. I’ll make you dinner. You can come back to me and Fred’s apartment, I’ll cook something nice, and I’ll kick Fred out for the weekend so we can get some privacy.” 

When you snickered the tiniest bit, you were rewarded with a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Fred’ll be pissed at us.”

“We already stole the room from him for the night. He’s already mad.” 

You hummed as he began to play with your hair. 

“I love you George.” 

There was nothing more true to you at the moment than what you were saying. You’d gladly get rid of all you owned if it meant that you and George could have a peaceful life together. 

“I love you too.” 

His eyes seemed to be fluttering shut again and you chuckled as you stroked his cheek, “Once more, please.”

“I love you too.” 

You couldn’t sleep. Everything was too wonderful for you to sleep. You’d nodded off a few times, but it was all sinking in and you couldn’t wipe the nervous smile off of your face. 

George loved you.

He loved you.

That beautiful golden boy who dedicated his life to cheer and joy loved you back. 

Despite the bad things you’d done. 

Despite the rumors spread about you. 

Despite everything he’d read-- and you knew he’d read everything, he didn’t believe the lies and he was in love with you. 

You tried to control the laughter bubbling up, along with the tears. 

He loved you. 

Someone loved you. 

It was not like before. There was not the tinge of family honor tainting all of this. There was no whispered threats and double meanings. This relationship wouldn’t be anything like a business transaction. 

It was going to be a real relationship. 

It was going to be real. 

He really loved you. 

He said it. He said it. He said it and he meant it. 

You felt foolish for crying tears of joy, especially when you were known to be good at keeping your composure, but you couldn’t help it. 

George Weasley loved you. 

He’d forgiven you for all the half lies you’d told and loved you for it all. 

Your laughter was quiet, but sounds almost manic as you try to stifle it all. You swung your legs out of bed and tugged on his shirt before padding your way to the restroom to wash off your face. 

The mirror showed an odd picture of you. Purprle bags under your eyes but your face lit up with pure joy. Your smile looked painful and you had to cram your fist in your mouth to stifle the mixture of laughter and tears that was coming from you. 

This was the best day of your life. This was everything you’d ever dared to hope for. 

Someone loved you back. 

It was George who loved you back. 

George who would never hurt you.

George who had looked out for you and his family for as long as you’d known him. 

Loyal George. 

Lovely George.

Golden George.

Handsome George. 

Funny George.

You tried wipe the tears out of your face while also remaining quiet, but your little giggles carried through to the adjoining room quite easily. 

“What’s so funny in there?” 

George sat up in bed, rubbing at his eyes while you padded back into the room. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, lit up with happiness. He flicked on the lamp to get a better look and grinned right back. 

“I love you Georgie.” 

“Is that why you’re cackling in there?” he reached out his arms and pressed a kiss to your wet cheek, feeling a twinge of concern. “And why you’re crying? Have you slept yet? Did I snore and keep you up?” 

“No-- no. I’m just excited.” you allowed yourself to be tugged into bed with him. “I can’t sleep. I’m so happy I can’t sleep.” There was a content sigh let out as he pressed kisses to your face and made work of the buttons on the shirt you’d knicked from him. “George?” 

“I’ll just have to tucker you out if you can’t sleep.” he nipped at your ear, and grinned as he heard you come alive with giggles once more. Very quickly he got his shirt off of you once more and tossed it away. “Sound good, Birdie?” 

“Sounds very good.” 

He’s too pure, you thought, as he laid next to you in bed.

Half asleep. Pale like marble. Red hair shining with a gold halo as the light from the lamp shines– the only respite from the darkness in the room.

You reached out to touch him but hesitated.

Things broke, when you got near them. People cracked under the pressure of knowing you.

A good person wouldn’t have brought him into this, but as he reached up and traced a fingertip up your bare side, slowly until he was able to tuck the hair out of your face you realized that you’d be glad to burn in hell if it meant five more seconds of this. “What’re you staring at me for?“

"You reminded me of this statue of Anteros I saw as a girl."

George propped himself up– feeling a bit confused though quite flattered, his pale skin flushing red. "Who’s that?"

"A muggle god of love.”

He kisses you and smiles as he does so, your hands hesitating before threading through his hair.

You were afraid to crack the marble. 

It’s at seven in the morning when you’re finally able to fall asleep, much to George’s relief. It was odd seeing you in person sometimes-- you always seemed so perfect and poised in the pictures that were in the papers that when he saw how stressed you seemed in person. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and chuckled softly as you seemed to settle in closer to him. 

This was wonderful. 

This was too wonderful. 

This was like so many of the dreams he’d had that whenever you’d woken him up on accident through the night he’d been grateful, because it meant it was still real. 

You loved him. 

How in the hell did he manage that? 

He’d known you for years, which helped-- and admittedly he had done his best to woo you whenever you’d been in England. Whatever almost romance you two had before the war was better than he could have hoped and he’d done his best to be content with it. 

But now? 

This was better than anything else in the world. 

This was the sort of thing he could never go back from. 

Any love after this-- and whatever diety was in charge forbid that-- would never live up to this. 

Never live up to seeing you in his arms. Knowing that the girl who had everything, and could have had anyone she wanted. The girl who was brilliant and fiesty and full of fire and passion loved him. 

Chose him.

Spent a night with him. 

Trusted him. 

He ran a hand through your hair and nuzzled closer to you, able to feel you stirring before you were even fully awake. “Go back to sleep.” 

Molly was downstairs calling for breakfast. You tried to prop yourself up only to laugh a bit as he flopped on top of you to weigh you down. 

“Your mom will be cross if she finds out why we’re late.” 

“Mum will be overjoyed to have this finally happen. You know she had a bet with your mum about when we’d finally end up. 

“Who won that?”

“Think your mum did-- she said it’d be after we got out of school.”

You let out a hum and threaded your hand through his hair. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Both of you grinned wide-- unable to hide your joy at being in love with the other. 

“‘ts time for us to get up George.” 

“Aren’t you tired? I don’t want you pushing yourself.” 

You pressed a kiss to his cheek before swinging your feet out of bed and rising to stand. “I’ll be alright George. Don’t worry.” you frowned just a bit as you searched through the discarded clothes in the room. “You do know your family’s going to know we’re together by now, right?”

He nodded, “Are you alright with that?” 

Normally, you’d have said no. 

But you’d known them all so long that this was about as natural as telling your own family. “Of course I am.” you pulled on one of George’s sweaters before grabbing the pants you’d worn yesterday. “Now c’mon. Time for breakfast.” 

Breakfast was blur of knowing smiles and of Molly going on and on about how happy your family would be and tearing up over how excited your mother would have been if she were still here. 

The coolness from Fred that you’d come to know these past few months had gone away entirely-- which was more wonderful than you could say. 

Well, it was gone for the most part. 

You passed by Fred later that day in the hall, on your way to grab your proper clothes and get showered and changed for the day. 

“I’m really glad you two are together.” Fred watched as your lips twitched into a widespread grin. “I reckon you are too, huh?”

Almost breathlessly you nodded, “More than I can say. A little nervous too.”

“Why nervous?” Fred chuckled a bit, “You two are perfect for each other.” 

“I just--” you chose your words carefully, George needed someone who would be on his side no matter what happened in this relationship. You didn’t want to put Fred in a position where he even had to hesitate about what to do if the time came. “You’ve seen how the tabloids can be.” Fred nodded, and looked as if he understood your point, “I just worry that it might make things hard.” 

Well, you knew it would-- but putting it that way didn’t cause too much alarm. 

“I don’t think that’ll be too bad.” well, Fred hoped it wouldn’t-- but thinking back on it he was fairly certain he’d seen a picture of you almost every time you’d started dating a new person and had read with George the gossip columns about each new paramour. “Besides, you two love each other. It’ll work out.” 

You’d been worried, last night about the possibility that George might not know when to pull away if the relationship went bad. If things got too hard for him. If it all went to hell in a handbasket. That he might grow to resent you or stay longer than he wanted to just because he didn’t think that it would get too bad. 

But you didn’t have to worry about that too much. Not yet, hopefully. 

Fred was here. 

Fred who would always make sure that George would look out for himself and be looked after. 

Fred who now doubt in your mind had told George at least a few times that maybe he ought to move on from you. 

Fred who you loved like a brother. 

Fred who you knew understood your concerns because he’d had the same ones all along. 

“And George has you to look after him.” 

Fred’s face became just a bit solemn, and he nodded. He knew well what this might all come to, and the gamble you two were taking for both of your families. 

Relationships like this, when they broke up, tended to exterminate all the things around them. 

He wasn’t sure what would happen to your friendship if things went south. 

Fred pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head, and offered you the cockiest grin he could muster. A cover that both of you chose to ignore. “Of course he does! Who else is going to look after that poor bastard. He can barely do his own laundry.”

You smirked, “Freddie I’ve been to your flat. I’ve seen your room. I think you’re the one who doesn’t know how to do laundry. 

“That’s not nice, Birdie.” 

“Neither are you.” 

He put a hand on his chest, scandalized as George stepped out of his room. “What’s going on here?”

“Y/N called me mean.” 

You nodded up at George and snickered when he tried to stifle a laugh. “Good to see you two back to normal again.” 

You and Fred shot each other a look, knowing that normal was not a realistic goal when there was so much to lose. 

Fred nodded first. “Yeah. Good to be back to normal.” 

[bringmetolife-pwff]

Part 1 : Chapter Seventeen - We’re Both Afraid

Evelyn's eyes slowly blinked open as she rubbed the sleep out of them with the palm of her hands.  Lifting her head up from William's chest she let out a yawn as she looked around.  The telly was still on but the movie had ended long ago.  

William was still asleep as she woke up and started gathering her things she came with.  

"Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" She heard a deep yet tired voice say from behind her.

Turning around, she saw the blue eyed man she had fallen for rub the sleep out of his eyes.  

"Morning, blue eyes," she greeted him shyly.

"Blue eyes?" He asked eyebrows furrowed as he started to get up from the couch and stretched his sore back before walking to his girl and bringing her closer to him.

"Yeah, because you have the prettiest blue eyes I've ever seen," she said smoothly but truthfully.

"First Captain now blue eyes. . . I like it," he told her with a teasing smile as she laughed which he found to be best sound and wanted to hear more of it.  "Your eyes, there's something magical about them."

"Magical?" she smirked at him thinking that was a funny word to describe someone's eyes.

"Yeah," he nodded his head.  "It's like there's blue and then some grey like before one of London's best rainstorms.  They're stormy but in the best way possible."

"That's very sweet of you," Eve commented to him.  

"What would you say about making it official?" William asked Evelyn as they were in the comfort of her apartment.  

Two months after living with Vivienne, she knew that she needed her own place.  William was back for a short break and whenever he was home in London, he always made sure to pay Evelyn a visit.  

"I'm scared," she murmured quietly as if anyone could hear their conversation.  Like it was a secret only the two of them knew of.

"I am as well," he admitted.

"You?  Why are you afraid?" She asked confused.

"Loads of things.  Making sure you're protected.  This isn't like my last relationship where we were protected from university.  That you don't resent me for what I would put you through just to be with me.  I came out of a four year relationship with someone because she couldn't handle it and I couldn't see a future with her.  I don't know how much more rejection I can take," he all but confessed to the woman who had become very important to him.  "I can't help the family I was born into.  People think that because I'm a prince I was born into all the wealth and privilege and that women just fall at my feet.  But they also don't see my side of everything.  They didn't see how I felt when I was only fifteen when I received the news that my mum died.  They don't live with the tabloids telling lies about you and not being able to comment back.  I'm afraid that you'll one day leave me knowing that someone better can offer you so much more than what I can."

Evelyn's breath was sucked in as she listened to all of his fears and worries.  

"I can't lie and say that I have same worries.  But one thing that I am certain of is that there will be no other man for be who is better than you.  You have been there for me since the day we met and I know you'll continue to just as I will for you.  In the amount of time I've known you you've not only become a good friend but for also have helped me to see it's okay to move on.  To be happy with someone else."

"So this is it then?" He asked wanting to make sure one more time.  "Because when we agree to it, we're all in.  There's no going back now."

"This is it," she nodded her head with confirmation and a twinkle of happiness shown in her eyes.

They sealed it with a kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the comfort yet small firmness of his hands on her hips as he pulled her closer to him.  It had been a while since either of them had felt this happy.  She looked up at him as they broke the kiss, they both had shit eating grins on their faces as he tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.  The small gesture making her blush slightly.

"I've missed you, you know," she told him.

"Good," he replied cheekily.  "I've missed you too."

"I wish I would've known you'd be here this week" she started.  "I promised by brother Jake and his girlfriend that I would babysit my nephews Samuel and David."

"That's alright.  Were you thinking of going anywhere?  Or just staying here?"

"I was actually thinking of taking the twins to the London Zoo," she chewed on her bottom lip in contemplation.  "Would you maybe want to go with us?"

"That sounds like fun," he told her.  "I'd just go incognito.  Harry and I do it all the time whenever we don't want to be recognised."

"Right then," Eve agreed.  "Do you have everything you need to not be recognised?"

"Yeah," he nodded his head.  "It's in my car."

"Do you always keep them with you?" she asked sceptically.

"Just in case.  Those bloody paparazzi seem to always find me," he shook his head.

"All right," she agreed.  

William and Evelyn went to her mum's place to pick up Samuel and David and headed to the zoo.

***

"What does a lion say, Sammy?" Eve asked her nephew as her and William pushed them in a trolly walking up the hill to the zoo.

"Rawr," he said with theatrics and having the cutest giggle at the end as his cheeks blushed.

"Very good," William told him.  "What's your favourite animal?"

"A lion!"

"A tiger," David chimed in too.

"What's your favourite, Wills?" David asked as he munched on a snack.

"A lion," he agreed with Samuel.  "You know I've gotten up close with some before.  They even let you meet the animals if you ask nicely."

Evelyn turned her head to look at her boyfriend with a sense of pride smile on her face.

"No way," the twins said in astonishment their eyes filled with wonder and excitement.  "Can we, please?"

"You'll have to ask your aunt about that one," he says putting all the pressure on her making her give him an annoyed look jokingly.

"Can we please, aunt Eve?"

"Okay," she dragged out the letter 'y' as the two twins let out cheers and high fives to each other making William and Evelyn chuckle.  "They are something else."

"Yeah, but how can you say no to them?  I may not have known them long but I know they are good boys."

"That they are," she agreed with him as they paid for four tickets.

Thankfully, having two kiddies with them made it a bit cheaper.  

"What's your favourite animal?" William asked her as they started walking around.

"I would say it's between a penguin and giraffe."

"Really?  Why?"

"I don't know," she said shrugging her shoulders with a laugh.  "they're just so cute and I like how tall giraffe's can get."

William smirked at his girlfriend as they walked through the zoo.  Stopping at the concession stands to get some dippin' dots and carrying on.  After they had gone through some exhibits they were finally going into the penguin area to meet them.  They had a guide explaining a brief history of the penguins, how they care for the penguins, how they could tell which ones apart and how to feed them.  

They were told that they couldn't meet the lions seeing as they were bit more problematic and weren't sure if they would lash out at new visitors.  Samuel was disappointed about that but they just wanted to meet some kind of animal.

"If you see that penguin that's right there who has a yellow band on its eyebrow which starts at each nostril stretching above the eye and down the neck that's the Fiordland Penguin.  They normally are from New Zealand but we were able to rescue some of them after they were found hurt on the shore not too far from here," Meredith told the group of four.

"So he will stay here?" Evelyn asked feeling sympathetic toward the penguin.

"Yeah," Meredith said.  "All of the animals that we have at this zoo will stay with us.  Because they've stayed with us for so long and we feed and care for them.  If we released them to the wild they wouldn't know how to survive on their own after being too dependent on us for so long.  They wouldn't last out there."

"Look at them walk," Samuel pointed at the penguins letting out a shriek and a giggle.  

Evelyn squatted down to his level and put her hand on his small back stabilising him.

"It is quite funny, isn't it?" She asked him as she looked up at her boyfriend who had a grin looking at the trio.  

"Do you mind taking a picture of us all?" William asked Meredith to which she didn't hesitate.

"Of course not," she shook her head and Evelyn handed her the mobile to Meredith as the two adults gathered together and held the twins close, wanting to remember this day.  They also took some close to the penguins but not too close.

William had taken off his sunglasses for this part as well as his hat as he wanted to take a genuine picture with the two little boys who had grown close to him in such a short amount of time.  

They were given the option to be able to see tigers or lions up close like they did with the penguins, but Evelyn thought that was too much for four year old little boys and she figured that her brother and his girlfriend would be pissed so she decided against it.  Instead, they had settled for a stuffed animal of a lion and tiger in the gift shop afterwards.  

***

"William?" she asked squinting her eyes as she looked at the alarm clock next to her bed seeing as it read that it was two in the morning.  "Is something wrong?  And why're you calling at two in the morning?" Letting out a yawn she laid her head on her pillow, snuggling into her blankets.

"Sorry Eve," he let out a tired sigh almost as if he had been up for hours and gotten no sleep.  "I thought you might want to know.  Earlier when we went to the London Zoo it appears that the paparazzi found us and took pictures of us with Samuel and David."

"What?" Evelyn shrieked feeling a bit more awake.

Even though Evelyn had been photographed before William the twins were never apart of it.  They always had a normal life never having to worry about the paparazzi as they had respected them.

Jake lived a relatively normal life with his girlfriend, Mia, unlike most of her siblings.  The only time they were photographed was if he were with their dad.  Other than that the paparazzi and tabloids left them alone.  Evelyn felt awful for putting the kids in the public like that.  She knew that they had a great time but unfortunately, the paparazzi have to ruin it.

She felt bad for William that he could never go out like a normal person would and not have paparazzi tracking their every step.  Her stomach was in knots as he was explaining all of the details their family was taking in order to ensure that Samuel and David's privacy would be kept private and that they threatened to sue any magazine and the paparazzi who had taken the pictures -- Justin Carmichael, if they published them.  Taking them seriously, Justin as well as the tabloids didn't want to chance having the pictures front page knowing it would taint their already terrible reputation.

William ran his hand down his face in pure exhaustion.  It had been hours already that he had been up and on the case trying to get the pictures not published for the next day.

"When we were out at the zoo earlier, paparazzi found me and well, they took pictures.  Not just of us but of Samuel and David as well.  I imagine that Jake and Mia would not be too pleased if their children ended up on the front page of the tabloids especially while they were away.  Please know I'm doing everything in my power to make sure those pictures don't make it to the internet tomorrow."

On the inside Evelyn was panicking.  She knew that Jake and Mia tried to give their boys a normal life and so far they had succeeded.  On the other hand, Evelyn knew that she was fully responsible for what had happened but she'd never tell William that.  She didn't want him to bad or like she couldn't handle his life.  Evelyn knew that along with being with William meant possibly being exposed to the paparazzi.  She just hadn't ever imagined that her nephews would be to and what this could mean for the rest of her family.

"I know you are," Evelyn told him, understanding that William didn't like the paparazzi, especially when they were out of line.  "I just didn't think that the paparazzi would find us and them this soon."

"I know, Evelyn," he let out an exhausted sigh.  "If you want out now, I don't blame you."

Evelyn felt her heart pound faster.  William was giving her an out because he felt like she didn't like this?  That she couldn't handle this?  This was nothing to what she was used to.  Sure, she felt protective over her little nephews.  That their identity would be revealed to the world without their parents consent.  But the fact that he even considered giving her an out broke her heart.  She knew why he was doing it though but she felt the need to reassure him that she was in this for him.  

"William, listen to me," she told him with a bit of sternness in her voice as she got his attention.  "I told you earlier today that I'm in this for you.  I know that the media will try and come in between us and fabricate stories but I'm able to look past all of that.  I'll ring my parents and see if they have any ideas as well with their lawyers but I want to give this relationship a fair chance. If you still want to?"

"Of course I do," he told her with certainty in his voice.  "I just don't want you to end up like my mum some day or for you to resent me for the invasion of the press.  I want this to be a normal relationship where we trust each other and can communicate with each other properly.  My families lawyers are over here right now and we are on the phone with the owners of the companies for the tabloids.  I'll call you soon for updates."

"William - I could never resent you.  This is your life and mine.  We can only control what we can. I appreciate that you are doing everything you can to help my nephews keep a normal life though.  That means so much more to me than you'll ever know.  As for me turning out like your mum, I can't tell the future, but I would only hope that the paparazzi have learned from that horrible accident and won't allow anything like that to happen again."

Thankfully, the paparazzi still had no clue that Evelyn and William were actually in a relationship.  They only looked at their relationship as friends that were possibly in a relationship but they were only guessing at that point.  

Evelyn was thankful that she and William were still together and had agreed to give this relationship a fair chance.  To focus on the things that they can control and let go of the things they can't.  Evelyn thanked her lucky stars that she had someone like William who cared deeply about family and privacy and wanted to protect those two very important things.  

***

Evelyn didn't sleep a wink that night after Wills had called her in the wee hours of the morning.  How could she?  She was still waiting on news that the pictures had been deleted.  She had ended up telling Sammy that she wouldn't be coming in to work today.  How could she focus on anything else?  Evelyn stayed in her apartment all day, pacing as she held her mobile in her hand waiting to hear from Wills.  Eve was also still watching her nephews and wouldn't be able to go in today anyway.

Evelyn hadn't talked to Jake or Mia yet as she didn't want to alert them without knowing any further news.  She knew that they were arriving home in a couple of days and didn't want to scare them if there was nothing to worry about.  They rarely had a holiday where it was just the two of them and she wasn't about to ruin it for them.  Instead, she chose to phone her parents and they were at her apartment with her getting in touch with their lawyers as well.  

"It will all be okay, darling," Natasha told her eldest daughter as she saw the worry she held clear on her face.

"What if it's not though, mum?" Evelyn asked her mother as her father was in another room speaking to his lawyer on the mobile.  "What if Samuel and David end up on every tabloid cover and Jake ends up never wanting to speak to me again and Mia doesn't allow me to watch my nephews anymore?"

Natasha knew that her daughter was being a bit dramatic about it all and wanted to calm her down.  

"Evelyn, Mia knows that with our lifestyle and now your relationship with William that the press are bound to take pictures of us.  She accepted that.  She knows that you have a good heart and would never bring any harm to Samuel and David.  Jake knows that too.  He's your brother.  Remember what we promised each other when you all were little?"

"Yes," Eve mumbled.

"What's that?" She wanted her daughter to say it for reassurance that she wasn't the worst sibling or aunt.

"That we would be there for each other no matter what.  That the press wouldn't come in between our family."

"Exactly," Natasha nodded her head with a kind smile.  "You just have to have trust and faith that your brother and his girlfriend know the sweet, caring person that you are and that we are doing everything in our power to stop this from getting out.  Can you do that?"

Even though Evelyn was twenty-four years old, she still needed these talks with her mum.  Her mum always knew what to say even on those days that she didn't want to hear it.  Evelyn nodded her head and hugged her mum.  Just then her mobile rang and saw that it was William who was calling her.  

"Wills?  Is there any news?" She asked right away skipping the pleasantries of greetings.

"It's done," he let out a tired sigh of relief.  "We made it to where they can't publish any pictures of children without the consent of their parents.  From now on though, we have to be careful Evelyn.  We can't have this happen again."

Evelyn let out a sigh of relief but also knowing she still needed to tell Jake and Mia about this when they returned.  

---

a/n: i am so sorry for the late update!  i thought i was going to be able to update this last week but i wasn't anywhere close to being happy or done with the chapter.  i hope the long chapter makes up for it though.  i just got back from being on vacation and have started my new semester of college again so the updates may not be as frequent but i hope you all still read this story and love it!