#its not like you can spend all that money before you fucking croak

[actual-corpse]

Giving your character extra arms is bad if you suck at poses.

I don't suck at poses.... I'm just trying to keep the shapes of Luna Moth Girl clean.

[biostris]

Hope this isn't too dark but can I get some angst with saltbaker who has a s/o who is incredibly sick and on the verge of death?

A/N: YES, god I’m going through these and a lot of them are yall being horny little shits so this is actually fueling my empty brain, and I have nothing but an 8 hour flight and a 4 hour lay over to sit through so this works. This will not be drafted this is just straight fucking RAW, GN pronouns.

:Chef Saltbaker x Reader:

In health and in sickness.

No one had seen it coming, no one even knew what it was. All anyone knew on the Isle was that (Y/n) was deathly sick, Saltbaker was working overtime, and time was running out. The bakery was empty, Saltbaker felt nothing but worry and anger as he ran his thumb under a price. A simply ludicrous price. One that he needed to pay to keep you alive.

“Damn it..” he muttered, a hand running down his glassy face as a scowl made its way onto it. How could this happen, how could this happen to you? Everyone had been showing their support, buying when they can but it would never be enough. He felt like he was failing you. A familiar ding echoed from the front of the shop and he was able to pull himself out of his wallowing to plaster on a smile long enough to appease the masses.

“Welcome, Welcome! What can I get you?” He immediately asked, his smile fading once he realized it was Esther Winchester. The cowgirl had her hat over her chest, looking at him with much sympathy and sorrow. “What happened.” He demanded, voice frantic but not angry.

The lass with a lasso paused. “I know you want to work, to try and prevent the end from coming too soon..” she began. Starting to walk over behind the counter and put a hand on Saltbakers shoulder. “But I think it’s high time you hang up your hat and go home to them.” She squeezed his shoulder and offered a sympathetic glance. Saltbakers Heart dropped, he swallowed thickly as he felt him self go pale. Mouth beginning to dry.

“I..” he choked, holding back a sob. “I can’t.” He admitted as he ran a hand to the back of his neck. Falling back on a wooden stool. “If I quit here, (y/n) won’t have enough money for their meds. And if they don’t have enough money for their meds then I fail them.” He bit back tears. Practically fighting them off with ever inch of willpower he saved for himself.

Esther snorted, her brows furrowing and lips twisting into a scowl. “Ya ain’t!” She shouted. “Yer not a failure, they appreciate every second you spend here. Every penny spent to keep them alive but damnit Baker!” Both of her hands grasped his shoulders and she gently shook them.

“They’re dyin, Baker..” her voice dropped. “There ain’t anything we can do now.” Saltbaker felt rage boil in his system but she had a point. One way or another the medicine would eventually stop, their body would grow tired and stop. He broke down in tears, the searing pain of his heart breaking spreading through his chest.

“What do i do..” he croaked, “you go home to them. You honor your vow.” Esther helped him up. Helping him pack up for the day. “In health and sickness.” She reminded him. Saltbaker paused at the door and fiddled with the ring on his finger for a moment. Tears still falling down his cheeks. He sucked in a big breath before slowly letting it out.

“You’re right,” he opened the door waving by to Esther. “I gotta get home.” And with that he was off. Walking the streets, dreading but also being excited to see them again. As he stepped inside their home he made his way to their room. The steady beeping of a monitor made his heart ache.

“You’re home!” (Y/n) croaked weakly, turning their head ever so slightly to see him. A frail smile on their dried lips. Saltbaker wanted to cry. No matter what anyone said he felt like a failure. He sucked in another breath of courage and quickly went to their side. “Yup, I’m home.” He took their hand in his and kissed it.

“How you feeling cupcake?” He asked as he caressed their cheek. Feeling the sheen of sweat sticking to their skin. “Like shit.” (Y/n) replied with a roll of their eyes. “But happy now that you’re here.” Saltbaker couldn’t help but laugh at their wit. He leaned down and kissed them. Lips in a delicate yet passionate dance as he poured all his love into it, dreading that it would be the last.

“I was thinking.” He began as he gently caressed their cheek bone with his thumb. “That we take that trip to the lake, like you wanted..” he watched as their eyes lit up, “really?” Asked (Y/n). Their subtle head tilt expressing their curiosity in volumes. He nodded and smiled.

“I’ve spent too long cooped up in my bakery. And I almost forgot the vow we made.” He took both their hands to his chest. Kissing their knuckles and arms, wrists and all. “That is be by your side in health, and in sickness.” His smile fell.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you. I just..” he winced, but (Y/n) knew. They always knew. They reached up and stroked his cheek weakly. Dry hands brushing against his smooth skin as they chuckled. “It’s ok. Let’s make the most of it now.”

Not all stories will have a happy ending, some are cut too short. But in their last few days (Y/n) had their husband. A nice view of the lake, and all the sweets they could stomach. And in their finals moments in Saltbakers arms, watching the sun rise on a new day. They knew, just like they always did, that everything would be ok.

[alisonsfics]

how could i hate you?

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

request: “would you mind writing a sebastian stan x reader fic? i had this idea where the reader & him have been dating for a while. he meets her parents & the readers parents are super rude & small minded. the reader is worried about how he’ll react. you decide the ending. can it be angst & fluff? it’s personal” - 🥺 anon

word count: 2k

warnings: controlling and derogatory parents, swearing (use of the word f***ing, but it only occurs once)

“Hey, sweetheart? You almost ready?” Your boyfriend called to you, from the other room. You were trying to put on a necklace, but you couldn’t get the clasp to close because your hands were so shaky. “Almost” you croaked, trying to push back the tears.

Tonight, you were taking Sebastian to dinner with your parents. He was going to meet them for the first time. Your nerves had consumed your entire body. Your hands were shaking, and you could feel your heart in your throat.

You loved your parents, but they tended to be hypercritical. They had both lived in a small town their entire lives. Small towns breed small mindsets. They weren’t the most supportive when you decided to move to Los Angeles. They didn’t understand the appeal of a big city.

You could handle their criticism, but the last thing you wanted was for them to be rude to Sebastian. He cared so much about their approval, and you wanted him to have it.

Sebastian peeked his head into the bathroom and saw the tears that were welling up in your eyes. Before even saying a word, he enveloped you in a hug. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around you. “What's wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, while rubbing your back.

You took a deep breath and pulled out of the hug. Sebastian had a worried expression on his face. He cupped your face and left a soft kiss on your lips. “You can talk to me” he said, softly. You nodded.

“I’m really fucking nervous about tonight” you told him, your voice breaking. He pulled you back into a hug and pressed kisses into your hair. “It’ll be okay. I promise” he assured you, but you couldn’t even let yourself believe his words.

You held the collar of his shirt and buried your face in his chest. “I know how they are, Seb. They’ve always been super critical. I don’t want them to say anything rude to you” you mumbled into his chest.

He hummed, letting you know that he understood. “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with criticism before. Besides, how could they not like me. I’m pretty amazing, right?” He joked, causing you to giggle.

You pulled away and lightly hit his arm. “There’s that smile” he said, smiling to himself. He took the necklace out of your hand and gestured for you to turn around. He clipped the hook together and then spun you around. “It’ll all be okay” he said, before taking your arm and pulling towards the front door.

As you drove down the highway, you started to tap your fingers on your thigh. It was your tell tale sign that you were nervous. Sebastian, knowing all of your little quirks, noticed instantly. He reached his hand over and interlaced his fingers with yours. “It’s just one dinner” he said, softly.

The words brought you comfort. Your parents could attack every part of Sebastian’s character, but it was still just one night. You both could home and pretend it never happened. While you wanted their approval, you didn’t need it to be happy.

He pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Before unlocking the doors, he looked over at you. “I’ll be right by your side the whole time” he said, giving you a gentle kiss. He let you take a few deep breaths, and then you both got out of the car.

You saw your parents sitting on a bench outside. They smiled when they saw you both walking towards them. You could tell it was a fake smile, but you allowed it to go unmentioned.

“You’re only ten minutes late. That’s a new record” your mom whispered, as she pulled you into a hug. You pulled away and kept an equally not-genuine smile on your face.

“Mom and Dad, meet Sebastian” you said, introducing them officially. He gave your mother a hug, and then moved to your father, shaking his hand. “That’s a nice car you have. A little expensive for my taste, but nice” your dad said, giving his signature backhanded compliment. Sebastian noticed, but just thanked him, trying to make a good impression.

Sebastian quickly opened the front door to the restaurant and allowed you all to walk inside. His hand found its familiar spot on the small of your back as you all waited for the hostess. He gave you a hopeful smile when your parents looked away.

Eventually, the hostess walked over to the stand. “Hello. I have a reservation for four. It should be under Stan” Sebastian told her. She nodded before grabbing a stack of menus and leaded you all through the restaurant.

You made it to the private room that Sebastian had requested. “Oh a private room? He’s already trying to win us over with his money” your mother sharply remarked, barely above a whisper. Sebastian pulled your seat out for you, and you all took your seats.

“So why did you pick this restaurant?” Your dad asked, at least trying to make conversation. Sebastian lit up as he remembered the story that followed along. He gestured to you, letting you tell the story.

“This was the restaurant that Sebastian took me to on our first date. I remember how nervous he was. He wanted everything to be perfect. He ordered me one of every dessert, so I wouldn’t have to pick” you said, resting your hand on top of Sebastian’s on the table. Your parents smiled as you told them the story, and you hoped it was a good sign.

“So how did you two meet?” Your mom asked you. Sebastian looked over at you, as if asking permission to tell the story. You gave him a reassuring nod. “We met at a wedding. We both knew the bride and were invited to the wedding. We got seated next to each other during the reception, and we got along really well. The rest is history” he said, smiling over at you.

It was heart warming to watch Sebastian reminisce over the night it all began. A lot had changed since then, but he was still your rock.

After a dinner full of snarky remarks and subtle insults, you were about to blow. Sebastian had his hand on your thigh, and he was trying to calm you down. All the insults had been directed towards him, but he was the one who kept a level head. You, on the other hand, wanted to scream at your parents.

You were almost done. You just had to wait to pay the check, and then you could go home and pretend this night never happened. You were so close. The waiter set down the check, and it was like you could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Sebastian reached for the check. You heard your dad scoff under his breath. You snapped.

“Alright. Out with it. What could you possibly have to say?” You asked, finally breaking. Your mom looked taken aback. “I’m just not shocked that Mr. Hollywood is trying to pay for dinner. He’s made it clear that he thinks he’s better than us” your dad said, crossing his arms.

It made your blood boil. “He’s buying you dinner. Why can’t that just be a nice thing?” You asked. You genuinely wanted to know why they were so offended by every nice gesture Sebastian made.

Your mom's expression changed as though she had been insulted. “It’s not just about paying for dinner. He’s trying to show us how much money he has. He thinks he’s better than us because he’s a fancy movie star. So what if we live in a small town? At least we appreciate the small things. All he does is spend Daddy’s money. He’s probably never had to work a day in his life. You actors are all the same” your mom chimed in.

Now, you were glad you were in a private room, so no one had to hear your screaming fest. You instinctively reached for Sebastian’s hand. You stood up from the table, taking him with you. “We’re leaving” you said, before heading towards the door. You pulled Sebastian with you.

You stopped before you grabbed the door handle and turned around to face your parents. “You know what? I have dealt with your criticism all of my life, but you are not going to attack Sebastian. He took you out to a nice dinner, and he has done nothing but be polite and kind to you. Also, he has earned every bit of his success. He left Romania at eight years old, and he built himself an amazing life. So, don’t sit here and tell me who he is. He is a loving boyfriend, and that is all that should matter to you” you said.

You turned to leave the restaurant and had to fight back the tears. Sebastian kept his arm wrapped around your waist as you exited the building. “I’ve got you” he whispered in your ear.

When you finally made it outside, he pulled you right into his arms. “Please, don’t hate me” you mumbled into chest. He pulled away from you, and all you saw on his face was confusion. “How could I hate you?” He asked, his voice softening.

“Because I was the one who said yes when they asked to meet you. I should have said no. I should have made up an excuse. I should not have made you sit through that excruciating dinner. I am so sorry” you apologized, genuinely. He cupped your face, and you could see his heart break. “Baby, I could never hate you. None of what happened in there was your fault” he assured you.

You felt a tear run down on your cheek. You felt responsible for your parent’s actions. “But they were horrible in there” you told him, confused. He wiped away your tears, hoping to wipe away the whole experience with them. “I don’t need anyone’s permission to love you” he said, before leaning in to kiss you.

“Thank you” you said, pulling him into a hug. Sebastian was always there for you when you needed it. He always knew how to calm you down. “Of course, sweetheart. Now, go sit in the car. I left my phone inside. I’ll be back in five minutes” he said, kissing your temple. You nodded and headed towards the car.

Sebastian walked back inside, but it wasn’t to grab his phone. His phone was right in his back pocket. He had kept his cool throughout dinner because you were at his side, but he had to stand up for you and himself.

He walked back to the room and found your parents still there. They were talking to each other and wore disgusted expressions. “Oh, he’s back” your dad said, his voice filled with disappointment.

Sebastian took a deep breath and maintained his composure. “I know you don’t like me, so I’m going to say this once. I love your daughter. She's the reason that I sat through this entire dinner and continued to be polite and smile. I don’t care if you approve of me, but in front of her, you will at least be civil with me. I had to watch her cry in the parking lot because she was worried you two would scare me off. I had to watch her worry that I might just walk away. You broke her heart tonight. If you do it again, I won’t be this polite” he said, before walking out of the room. He walked straight to the car, without any form of expression on his face.

When he got in the car, he simply gave you a smile. You were still worried. “Did they say anything else to you?” You asked him. He shook his head and took your hand in his. “They had already left” he lied, dismissively.

You nodded and gazed out the window. “I love you, you know that, right?” Sebastian asked, causing you to look over at him. “Of course I know that. I love you too” You asked him, confused.

He shrugged. “I just wanted to remind you that I’m never going to leave you” he told you, genuinely.

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Requests OPEN

[shanitani]

Hi! May I ask Todoroki accidentally forgetting his S/O's birthday, angst time until his S/O accept his apologies and he decided to spoil them (even tho their S/O does not want him to spend so much money on them... He still don't care lol) thanks! ♥️

contains : shoto x fem reader

includes: angst -> fluff

a: hi babe, ngl this made me get a bit sad bc I feel like he would Lowkey forget ur birthday but not to this extent yk like probably for the first hour of the day- anyways I’m rambling .. here you go <3 

Feeling the crisp morning air hit your face, you smiled before even opening your eyes. Snuggled in what felt like your boyfriend, was in actuality just your throw blanket. You looked around for a sudden moment, stuck in the back of your mind that maybe, just maybe he forgot your birthday. 

‘Maybe he’s just cooking breakfast’ You shook away your thoughts stretching out of bed to smell nothing. To see nothing but a flimsy note on the kitchen counter in scribbled drawn out writing “Had something come up at the agency, be back later - shoto”

You couldn’t say that you weren’t mad or that you didn’t feel a slight pull at your heartstrings, but Shoto was like this - he doesn’t show emotions well with language, more so physical touch. And, you knew what you were getting yourself into dating a pro hero. He let you know before hand how much he had to be gone no matter the instance, and you still stuck with him because he was one of a kind that you couldn’t just let pass up - that’s what made Shoto instantly fall in love with you.

So, you stuck to your promise of unconditional love no matter if he was wrapped in your arms, or messily throwing things in a suitcase to fly out for a emergency mission. You just wished the universe had been a little nice to you today, or at the least gotten an happy birthday at the end of the note.

Despite not being with your boyfriend, Mina had instantly hit you up asking to hang out at the bar later. So instead of sulking, you spent your afternoon with Mina - waiting patiently for your boyfriend to come home.

The afternoon passed, and he still wasn’t home. dropping you a quick message saying, “taking longer than expected, be home later tonight - don’t wait up.” don’t wait up.. was he forreal? or was this just he serious? you thought over and over again taking off the heels you were supposed to wear with Shoto to your birthday dinner.

You wanted to cry, but you didn’t. “Not on your birthday Y/N” you spoke out loud trying to surpass the tears fighting to come out. Instead, jumping in the shower to clear your mind from it all and sitting down on the couch and watch movies to pass the time. 

Hours clicked by, 10pm it stated on the clock. Your birthday was over, and your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, tears fought angrily to come out - and you couldn’t do anything but let them force their way out. You choked out a sob on the couch, feeling hopeless and letting your mind get the best of you.

Was he seeing another woman? did he forget? does he even love me anymore? I wouldn’t blame him... Am I not good enough?

---

“Yeah thanks for helping me with the Mission today, I know it was last minute.” Midoriya nervously smiled rubbing the back of his neck before the bi colored boy shrugged picking up the last of his belongings. “Sorry again, I really do owe you.” the two boys walked out of the agency about to part ways as Todoroki stood confused at why Midoriya felt so sorry this week - this was usual for him to have to leave last minute.

“What for? this is what I signed up for.” Todoroki began to open his car door, shuffling his hair back into place, “Well I tried Bakugo and Kirishima but they had their own mission to fufill, and Denki wasn’t suited right for this job. Didn’t want to call you on your girlfriends birthday y’know? seemed rude.” Todoroki stopped in his tracks, trying to calculate what day it was. He fumbled with his phone trying to see the date, It can’t be today... its not, Midoriya’s just tired.. right? he silently prayed Midoriya was wrong - until he wasn’t.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ve gotta go Midoriya okay?” The boy didn’t wait for response from the green haired boy, rushing home. ‘How can I be so fucking stupid’ he banged on the steering wheel, pushing on the gas pedal harder as he finally got to the shared apartment.

He opened the door, cringing at the bright heels he’s never seen before laying nicely by the door. Shoto rubbed his eyes with his hands - looking at the phone one more time. 11pm. the apartment was pitch black, slightly smelling like food you had previously cooked for you and your husband - that’s when guilt finally started to rush through his body, but he needed to see you - he couldn’t just not say anything.

He walked slowly through the living room door, hesitant on opening it and seeing a furious you. In the back of his mind he hoped you wouldn’t be so mad at him for this happening, but he knew the chances were slim. He opened the door only seeing more pitch black and static on the TV screen, his eyes softened to see you tugged closely onto the couch pillow. 

He inched closer to you finally taking in your looks, you had a black silk dress that slightly rose up from you sleeping, you hair was a mess - frizzy at the top. And he could tell you’ve been crying, seeing your puffed out cheeks and calmer state. He felt terrible, trying to find out how to face you. All you’ve ever done for him was be supportive, and he couldn’t even take a day off from his hectic life to spend time with the person he loves the most. 

Without thinking, he woke you up, inching you awake slowly to see you wake up in discomfort before looking at him. He smiled at you, teary eyed - but you couldn’t quite figure out why until it hit you that it was still the same day. “Hi baby, wake up we’re going somewhere.” “huh” you rubbed your eyes, feeling Shoto tug your arm up and into his arms

He leaned to your ear, whispering a small ‘i’m sorry, let me make it up to you.’ and before you could answer he opened the door, motioning you to come outside. You complied; seeing his emotional face look at you made your heart melt. He pulled you into the car, putting his hand on your thigh and starting the car. putting the radio on for background music there was a comfortable silence in the air. 

You finally pulled into a driveway, the highest level that looked over the Japan city that you liked so much. He pulled you out urging you to come to the edge and breathe. He knew that after small breakdowns you would usually come out here to get your mind off things, so he thought this was the perfect place to bring you - at least just for tonight.

His head hung low trying to figure out the words to say to you, he didn’t know how to apologize, and he wouldn’t be surprised nor mad if you wouldn’t accept it. “I’m sorry. I’m a bad boyfriend.” he croaked out, with damp cheeks attempting to look into your eyes, he grabbed your hands subcontiously to stop his rapid heartbeat. You smiled at him, taking his head and putting it into your chest like he always liked. 

“It’s alright baby, you’re an amazing boyfriend. always will be my hero.” you hummed stroking his hair softly. you didn’t care about the date or the gifts, you cared about his presence, and it was before 12am. So technically, you got what you’ve wanted.

“It’s not, and i’ll try harder to be with you more.” he looked into your eyes finally, cupping your cheek. You smiled, “best birthday ever.” you smiled, kissing his lips that you’ve longed for all day. He was scared to at first, but soon drowned into your mouth - comfortable with your taste. You pulled back, fully relaxed and content, “baby?” he hummed in response. “You still didn’t say happy birthday to me.” you teased grinning as he playfully pushed you away from him only to bring you back into his chest closer, “happy birthday sweetheart.”

BONUS BECAUSE I NEED TO:

You awoken to the smell of pancakes and bacon, the sun shining warmly on your face making you sit up. You were awoken to food, presents, and a beautiful card placed on the left of your bed. Standing over you was your boyfriend, with messy hair and sweatpants that sat nicely in the middle of his V line making your cheeks heat - he never failed to look so adorable. 

“Good morning beautiful” he kissed your cheek, sitting on the edge of the bed near you, “Close your eyes.” you complied, feeling a small thin cold object grave over your neck, “Open.” you opened your eyes to see his phone handed to you to look at the object, it was a small gold necklace engraved to say “Todoroki” you smiled finding his eyes at yours, leaning in to kiss the boy.

“You’re already gonna have my last name, so for now this will do until I put a ring on that finger.” your cheeks grew incredibly hotter, “Thank you so much baby, it’s adorable.” you grinned placing down his phone and suffocating him once more in an endless amount of kisses to his face.

masterlist

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Dabi x reader Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rough sex, name calling, alcohol, angst Word Count: 4185 Prompt: Fuck against a door A/N: A big thank you to @honeytama​ for giving this piece a quick read through before posting.

Tags: @bakugoukatsukiswife​

When You Joined the League of Villains everyone warned you about the same thing. Stay away from Dabi. It was simple enough advice which you took to heart at first, trying your hardest to leave the room when he would come in and only meeting him with a small smile and wave everytime he would greet you.

But you began to wonder why people warned you to stay away. Yes they gave their reasons, but everyone told you different things.

“He’s practically useless,” Shigaraki told you. “He never does his job correctly. He usually ends up incinerating people and just leaves their bodies lying around for the police to find. It’s like he’s leaving a trail right to the hideout.”

“He’s hot, don’t get me wrong,” Toga said, “but he’ll just break your heart and move on to his next victim.” It was clear as day that she wasn’t speaking from personal experience, rather out of suspicion or hearing the unfortunate crying of girls he’s dumped or kicked out in the middle of the night.

Twice had both good and bad things to say about Dabi. “He’s the best partner a guy could ever ask for. That jerk! He’s such an asshole!”

It was strange to you how different all of their responses were, and that difference only made you more curious about what kind of person Dabi is.

Your first real conversation took place at the bar. You had just come back from a mission with Toga. Your villain costume was covered with mats of blood and dust, and while Toga told you it made you look even cuter, you still couldn’t help but complain about the new found rips in the fabric from tumbling across concrete and gravel.

“Double scotch,” you told Kurogiri when you sat down at the bar.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Dabi leaning against one of the brick walls, cigarette hanging off his lips like a water droplet about to fall from a faucet. He took a drag of the cigarette. His eyes shot daggers at you from behind the hazy cloud of smoke that came from his lips. A lazy smirk etched its way on his face when Kurogiri set the drink in front of you and you took the first painful gulp.

“That’s a pretty bold drink for someone like you,” he said, leaning his back against the counter.

“How so?” You didn’t look up at him, instead opting to stir the ice cubes around and watch as they ever so slowly melted into the drink.

“Well I’d expect a bubbly princess like yourself to order something a little sweeter.”

Your eyes shifted to glare at him. The light emanating from the bulbs hanging from the ceiling bounced off his staples. The way it shined down on half of his face illuminated his blue eyes making them seem almost pretty. “What makes you think I’m a bubbly princess?”

That was good. Dabi likes it when a person has a bit of a bite to them, and your teeth were proving to be sharper than he thought. “You’re prissy,” he said.

“Prissy?” Your voice grew shrill at his comment, only proving his point. Your eyes had widened as you turned your head to look at him.

“Exactly.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was a staring match between the two of you, and the first person to speak would lose. “I’m not prissy.” It sounded more as if you needed to say it for yourself than anything.

“Then why are you so upset about a little dirt and blood on your outfit, doll?”

The nickname sent shivers down your spine and a warm blush crept over your face. How did he know you were so upset over that?

“Isn’t it just so,” he paused for a moment pretending to look for the right words. “Trivial?”

Trivial. That must be what he thinks of you. That you would drown yourself in whisky over a messy outfit when there are real injustices in the world. You’re pathetic. “I’m not prissy,” you repeated under your breath. It’s as if you were a robot having technical difficulties and could only say the one line.

Kurogiri placed a shot of whiskey on the counter for Dabi and took the empty glass away seconds later.

“Oh?” Dabi’s eyes widened as the shot ran down his throat and settled in his stomach. “You wanna prove it?” The blush creeping up your face ran cold as Dabi placed a scarred hand on your thigh. “Why don’t you come with me, doll.” His other hand delicately tucked itself under your chin and his thumb caressed your bottom lip. “Show me what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

You’re not sure what you were thinking when you stood up to follow him, and it’s safe to say you regret getting on your knees for him. But what you wish most of all is that you didn’t enjoy it as much as you did.

With a new realization of why your fellow league members urged you to stay away from Dabi, you tried your hardest to avoid him. It was proving to be much more difficult than planned. The week following your alone time together he was hard to find. You suspected he was either out on the town or spending time in whatever shit-hole apartment he probably lives in.

You appreciated your week alone from him. It was silent and gave you time for reflection. You thought a lot about the night you shared and what your friends warned you about. As shitty as you felt, you couldn’t shake the memories of his hardened cock slipping in and out of your mouth with tears spilling out of your eyes as he grabbed the back of your head and thrusted his member down your throat.

Memories of you wanting to touch yourself but Dabi slapping your hand away rang through your head.

“I didn’t say you could touch yourself, did I, princess?”

Flipping your pillow over and burying your head inside, you let out a muffled whine. The more you thought of how much you enjoyed that night, the crappier you ended up feeling.

“I need a drink,” you said to yourself. Standing up from your bed, you left your apartment and walked the few blocks down to Kurogiri’s bar. The wind seemed to brush right through you as you walked the dimly lit street. Even so, you didn’t bother going back to grab a jacket.

The bar was near empty, as you expected it to be on a Wednesday night, aside from the league members who like you had nothing better to do with their time. Shigaraki was sitting in a booth playing some video game. Looking up at you as you walked in, he gave you an acknowledging nod which you happily reciprocated.

Spinner, Toga and Twice waved you over to the booth they were laughing in, but you respectively declined to sit at the counter.

“Double scotch,” you told Kurogiri.

It wasn’t long before you could feel a warm presence behind you and hot breath tickling the back of your neck. “It’s been a minute since I’ve seen you, doll,” Dabi’s sly voice croaked out. “Don’t tell me I scared you off.”

“I should be saying the same thing to you.” You smiled at Kurogiri as he set the drink down in front of you. Even after taking a sip you refused to look at Dabi. You weren’t trying to play coy with him, you just knew that if you did look into those piercing blue eyes of his, you would freeze entirely.

“I shouldn’t be complaining,” he chuckled, turning around so that his lower back was flat against the edge of the counter. “But we both know that this little confidence act you have going on is just a decoy.” His eyes shifted to glare at you. Dabi has a way with words, and he could tell just how flustered you were getting underneath the layer of makeup you had put on earlier that day. “So why don’t we just cut to the chase and you follow me around back.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand that he knew you would follow. Kicking back the rest of your scotch, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the burning sensation to pass. You stood up to follow him into the back room, all while training your eyes on the hardwood floor.

It happened again and again. Dabi would approach you at the bar and you would end up with bruised knees the next day. At first it was a weekly ordeal, but after a while it became more regular. You were sucking him off so often that you were sure the other league members assumed you were dating. You were curious why no one bothered asking if you were a couple. Then you realized.

Dabi doesn’t do dating.

Still, you didn’t want to believe that you were nothing to him. He was the closest league member to you physically yet the most distant in all other forms. He had taken a liking to you so much that he let you put your mouth around his most intimate area. That had to mean something, right.

Walking into the bar on a Friday night, you scouted the booths of tipsy men gambling away what little money they have in order to find him. Tears pooled in your eyes, however, when you saw Dabi leaning against a booth talking to a young woman you had never seen before.

She twirled her fingers through her long black hair as she spoke to him, a tipsy smile on her face like she had just taken a hit off a joint. She reached out for what would be the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to her.

The sly smirk on his face didn’t go unnoticed by you. It was a smile your heart had grown to flutter at as you assumed he was only giving that smile to you.

The woman stood up and dragged him out of the building. As they walked right past you, he didn’t even bother to glance in your direction.

You cried yourself to sleep that night having finally realized what you were to him; a toy, his plaything, someone to abuse when he had nothing better to do. Loud muffled sobs echoed through your room as your feather pillows began to smell like mildew from the tears and snot that kept dripping out.

Your face was blotchy and the inside of your head felt like one big bug bite. You were miserable.

You ignored Shigaraki’s constant berate of texts and calls and missed your meeting with the league the next day, instead opting to watch reruns of shojo animes that appeared on your crap TV and eat copious amounts of instant ramen.

Eventually you texted Shigaraki back telling him you were sick. In a way you were. Every time you thought about going to the bar, more images of Dabi fondling that stupidly beautiful woman plastered themselves into your mind.

It’s not fair, you thought, how hard I’m falling for him and he doesn’t think to take a second glance at me.

Most of your day was spent yelling at yourself. You yelled at yourself for crying over a boy. You yelled at yourself for letting him get to you, for being so vulnerable that he could easily manipulate you into being his little puppet. But what you hated most of all was how you longed for him to stroke your hair, something he’s never done in a loving way, as you would sob into his chest.

Looking down at your knees, you frowned at the tender bruises that made you feel so exposed. You stood up to walk over to the poor excuse that you call a closet. The only items in there are a heavy duty jacket and a strapless dress that Toga got you as a birthday present. You never had a reason to wear it but it was long enough to cover your knees and that’s really all that mattered.

You slipped the dress on and spread it out with your hands. You modeled for yourself and couldn’t help but smile. She got your size right and everything.

Maybe you would go out tonight. You felt confident in the dress, something that you hadn’t felt in a long time. After putting on makeup to hide the blotchiness of your face, you left your apartment and headed straight for the bar.

The bar was less crowded than usual for a weekend. Your fellow league members hung around their usual booths and a couple other parties of a few people looking to get wasted were strewn about various tables.

Strutting over to the counter, you could hear Toga gushing over how cute you looked in the dress she got you.

“Double scotch?” Kurogiri asked.

You scrunched up your nose trying to decide for a moment if that’s really what you wanted. “Let’s change it up. Gin and tonic.”

You watched as Kurogiri prepared your drink.  He handed it off to you and you thanked him. It was a lighter drink than you were used to, but you didn’t mind. If anything, you felt happier drinking something more bubbly.

“Howdy.”

You turned your head to face a rather confident stranger who had sat down in the stool next to you. You had never been approached by a stranger before. It was almost exciting. Maybe it was the dress or the lighter drink or maybe it was the sorrow you were trying so hard to mask over, but you felt as though you had a vote of confidence sitting next to this stranger. Taking another sip of your drink, you smiled at him. “Hi.”

“What is a fine young lady like yourself doing in a place like this?” His eyes raked up and down your form. Though you were slightly repulsed by the act, you giggled nonetheless.

“Just looking for a fun time,” you said, leaning your cheek against your hand.

The stranger bit his lip and looked down at your chest. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You were about to respond when a gruff hand grabbed your arm and yanked you away. “Sorry, pal. She’s not interested.” Dabi dragged you along towards the back room you two have spent oh so many nights together in. He flinged you in front of him and slammed the door behind. The only light in the room was coming from the full moon peeking its way through the window.

“What the hell, Dabi?” You raised your voice, something you were not used to. It felt off but at the same time empowering.

“What the hell? What do you mean what the hell?” The usual sultry look in his eyes was replaced with rage.

“Why did you drag me away from that guy?” You weren’t sobbing like you expected to be the next time you saw Dabi. No, the sadness that once clouded your mind was replaced with anger.

He scoffed. “Oh, so you think you can fuck any stranger just because it’s been a few days since I let you suck my dick.”

You cursed yourself for the small ache that formed between your thighs. And you hated that you could feel yourself getting wet as Dabi inched his way towards you.

“Nah, sweetheart. You belong to me.”

Those were the four little words that you longed to hear since the first day he forced his cock into your mouth, leaving a small bruise on the back of your throat. Now that you’re actually hearing them, all you wanted to do was scream.

“How can you fucking say that?” Now it was your turn to back him up against a wall. “I’ve seen you flirt with other girls at the bar. I’ve seen you leave with other girls at the bar. So don’t tell me I’m not allowed to talk to another guy when you’re clearly out and about fucking whoever. I don’t belong to anyone.”

You don’t remember the few seconds leading up to Dabi grabbing you and slamming you against the closed door. The next thing you do remember is his hands pinning your wrists against the wood. The moonlight illuminated his eyes that stared into you with a mixture of lust and anger.

It wasn’t long before he crashed his lips onto yours like you were the last meal he’d ever eat. It’s then that you realize that this was the first time he had actually kissed you. You had never fully tasted him until this point. He tasted like stale cigarettes and whiskey, an intoxicating combination.

Dabi pulled away, glaring at you. You tried to lean back in and recapture his lips, but you were stopped when one of his hands delicately gripped your throat.

“Do you really think you’ll find anyone who’s better than me?” Slowly and cautiously, his hand tightened around your throat, gripping it enough to feel your pulse in his hand. His deep chuckle bounced throughout the room. “You haven’t even seen what I can do.”

The hand around your throat left to wrap around your hips and hoist you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him. You couldn’t stop the look of shock from spreading across your face like butter as you felt the tent in his pants poking at your panties.

Dabi chuckled as he reached into your dress, pulling it down and scooping your boobs into his hands.

You gasped as you felt him latch his mouth onto your nipple. Your hands instinctively traveled to his hair to support yourself. You squished your body further into him.

“Someone’s eager.” His remark caused your nether regions to twitch. “Has sucking my cock not been enough for you, princess?”

You didn’t know what to say. So instead, you tugged on his hair letting him know that you wanted him to continue.

“I see,” he said. He began trailing open mouth kisses from your clavicle bone all the way up to the shell of your ear. “If you keep this up, I might just have to take you right here, where everyone can hear you screaming my name on the other side of that door.”

His words didn’t click immediately. All you could think about was the thought of screaming his name as his pierced tongue ran laps against your tender and puffy clitoris. “Please,” you whispered. “Please.”

It was one word that spoke numbers. Dabi’s shit-eating grin widened as he hiked up your dress. “Well then, I guess we better see how wet your little pussy is for me.” With your arms still wrapped around his neck, he gripped your ass with one hand, using his thumb to stroke up and down your already soaked panties. “You’re already this wet for me and I’ve barely touched you?” There was a hint of smugness to his words like he knew that he as good at sex and if you weren’t already soaked it wouldn’t be long before you were.

You bit your lips as the warmth from his palms dug into your core. In a split second, your panties were ripped and the remnants were left forgotten on the floor. You would have been mad if they were a nice pair or if you weren’t so focused on Dabi’s knuckles barely grazing your hardened clit.

“You want me so bad don’t you, you little slut?”

The words rang in your ears loud and clear. You do want him, more than anything.

Dabi sticks two fingers in his mouth and rubs them across your clit after gathering the slick from around the outside of your walls.

Your breath staggered a bit at feeling his warm fingers. You tried to grind your hips forward, matching his pace, but the way Dabi pulled at your hair and bit your collar bone told you to stop.

When he pushed his fingers deep inside you and your walls clenched around him, he could finally feel just how tight you were.

With your eyes squeezed shut and face contorting in ecstasy, Dabi could truly see just how beautiful you were to him. He slid two of his fingers inside and scissored them up and down, back and forth, just feeling the way your walls pulsated around him. He snickered at the sloshing sound of his fingers hooking around your walls and the little breaths that escaped your mouth.

Dabi pulled his hand out to spit on his four fingers, and rapidly rubbed them against your clit, causing you to cum instantly onto his palm. He caught you in his arms again before your knees could give out.

When the waves hitting you had finally subsided, you opened your eyes to find a smirking Dabi, clearly pleased with the performance you had just given him.

“Look at you,” he said, wiping his hand covered in your juices across your breast. “You’re so fucking messy. Did you do all of this just for me?”

The sight of you coming undone like that had him palming his dick through his black jeans. The ways your mascara trailed down your cheeks as tears rolled down the side of your face made him want to take you right then and there.

So he did.

Dabi made a big show of unbuckling his belt and letting his cock spring free.

Even though you had sucked his dick countless times, it looked so much more intimidating knowing it would be going inside you.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared, doll.” Dabi stroked his length, fondling the pieces of jewelry dawning its head and underside.

You found yourself drooling at remembering what his jacob’s ladder felt like against your tongue.

Hoisting you up again, Dabi slammed your back against the door. You could feel it wobbling against your back as your jaw went slack.

With your arms around his neck, Dabi pushed your still bruised knees to the side, exposing your tender pussy to the air. He held the base of his cock in one hand and gathered up as much slick as he could. Positioning his head along your opening, he snapped his hips forward, roughly penetrating you.

You let out a harsh moan that seemed to rile him up.

“That’s it.” Dabi eased out of you, only to snap his hips forward again. “Say my name.”

“Ngh. Dabi,” you muttered in a breathy moan.

“Louder.”

“Dabi!” Your throat felt raw at saying his name like that.

As his hips snapped forward and his piercing tickled the edge of your cervix, your back rubbed up against the old wood of the door. The burning sensation was beginning to feel unbearable, but the feeling of Dabi playing with your breasts and biting your neck distracted you from the pain.

“Who do you belong to?” he barked.

“You.”

“Who do you belong to!?”

“You dabi! I will always belong to you. I won’t fuck anyone else. Only you.”

He chuckled. “Not so much of a priss now, are you?” He grabbed your chin, forcing you to turn your head towards him. Your shaky breath tickled his face as he forced your hips further and further against the door.

You knew there would be bruises the next day, that you would probably ache all over, but you didn’t care.

Dabi pinched your clit and he thrusted into you and you couldn’t help but scream. Your pussy tightened and you came around him. He thrusted again, once, twice, until he shot his hot ropes of cum inside you.

He stayed there for a moment, knees shaking as your back was held against the wall. As the both of you caught your breath, you stroked a hand through his black hair, exposing a couple white roots into your sight.

Dabi pulled his softening cock out of you and tucked it back into his boxers.

Barely able to stand, you used his shoulder to prop yourself up and stretch your legs. “How do I look?” you asked, bleary eyes looking up at him. “Is my makeup too smudged?”

He smiled down at you, a smile you have never seen before. This one was sincere and in a way loving. “You look beautiful.” He wiped underneath your eye with his thumb “My little cumslut.”

As Dabi opened the door leading to the rest of the bar, you pulled the top of the dress back up to cover your tits and spread it down with your hands so it wouldn’t expose your pantyless ass. When you left the dark room you paused to see the entire bar was staring at you, both your friends and the complete strangers.

Toga had a shit-eating grin plastered along her face whereas Shigaraki looked at the two of you with disgust. Twice, in all honesty, looked like he was about to cry.

“Everybody here needs to back the fuck off,” Dabi said, looping an arm around your waste. “This one belongs to me.”

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! CHAPTER 51 DETAILED SUMMARY + THEORIES

MC goes out looking for them, in the music room the record player starts on its own. MC ends up wondering the empty house on their own, ending up in the library. They reminisce about a conversation with the brothers where they were debating who the real killer of the OG HoL family was. With Asmo & Beel (Beel because he can never imagine family killing each other despite how bad things get and Oh Beel you Sweet sugar plum welcome to the human world~ it be like that sometimes) saying it was the servant, Belphie saying it was a stranger (cause the oldest and the servant are too obvious, and maybe the oldest wasn’t killed cause he was not home at the time) and Satan & Mammon saying it was the oldest brother (with Mammon defending his choice by saying that as they are always the meanest and nastiest it’ll be in an oldest brother’s nature, but also that in the story the oldest never got along with his siblings), Mammon’s argument makes Levi join team oldest. MC chooses who the killer was (it was the oldest c’mon! the guy bought a gun days before a similar model was used to shoot and kill his entire family, and he was seeing arguing with the servant the day before the murder). MC then gets a call on their DDD, and you can choose whether it’s from Satan or Simeon.

MC tells whoever calls what’s going on, while cats shriek in the background of the call (poor Simeon…) One cat is climbing and scratching Satan, Da Vinci and Michelangelo are fighting and the call is kept. They remember more times in the HoL; Lucifer trying to get Belphie to stop napping in the library cause it’s too cold and he’ll get sick, Asmo cooing over how adorable Belphie is asleep, Mammon & Levi arguing about money (Levi: give me my money back Mammon: Chill. Soon.  Levi: What’s soon? In 30s? In 1min? In 1min 30s? Mammon: is getting your money back on your bucket list and you’re wondering if you’re gonna croak soon?   I dunno I thought it was funny…), Satan yelling at them to find another place to fight cause he’s reading, Beel watching a gory horror movie and devouring snacks, MC is asked if they like horror movies. If they say they like it Lucifer says it’s good that they don’t scare easily, Asmo says they can handle any situation with cool and calm, Levi says they’ve already conquered 7 of the devildom’s most powerful demons so really what’s there to it, Mammon says that either way MC has nothing to worry about, Lucifer agrees adding that they’ll always have the brothers at their side (why is this so sweet?????). MC pines for them rn and tries to reassure themself only to satan to ask them what’s wrong and if they missed him that much (and this is the point irl where I would have taken the nearest solid object and chucked it at his head but MC’s made of stronger stuff)

Simeon is there as well and Satan is covered in powder (he’d been testing a new drink flavour which pissed all the cats and now he’s covered in the flavouring. Simeon says that wouldn’t have happened if there were no cats in the café in the first place. Satan says they are an improvement. Simeon – poor fellow – still has no idea why Satan thinks he wanted a cat cafe), MC screams wtf and they explain that Barbatos had dropped by and they’d asked him to portal them to MC and why hadn’t they done this in the first place? I mean ik they probably all wanted to spend time together via a mini vacation and all 3 of them are probably too scatter brained to think of Barbatos on their own but why did no one else suggest Barbatos? Barbatos had apparently being fuming cause he’d gone to the café to take a small break from his man-child of a boss and his other 24/7 duties only to be placed in charge of a café full of manic cats. Satan thinks being stuck in a cat café is heavenly, Simeon disagrees and says Barbatos will find a way to get back them. MC tells them calm the fuck down cause your brother and your son are missing! Satan says he is calm, heavily implying he was seconds away from losing his shit. Simeon changes the subject by saying that the imitation HoL looks like a carbon copy of the OG, Satan says the books in the library (where they currently are) are different to the ones back home and that the ones in this house are more to satan’s taste than the ones back home. Simeon notes that they all seem to be about art. Satan picks up an odd book out, it’s old and ragged with a picture of a pink geranium on it.  The title is Ma…14-31 with the middle part faded out. Simeon stresses that they should be focused on finding the others but both Satan & MC wanna open the weird book. Simeon manages to drag them away though to search for the others and come back to the book but when he opens the door out of the library they’re enveloped in a bright white light.

They end up in a brightly lit forest, with Satan wondering tf happened and Simeon saying he recognises the place, an unknown voice asks who’s there, revealing angel!Beel dncjndsjND is MC time travelling AGAIN!? How many times are they gonna fuck up history!? Also what about Satan!? Man’s gonna lose his shit!!? Also I desperately wish MC remembered their last trip to the past just so they could be like ‘lol hey guys long time no see’ and Satan & Simeon would just ???????!!!?? Beel (who’s a gate protector angel? Something like that) asks who they are and MC (who unfortunately remembers nothing) goes “Beel!? Tf you wearing” and he goes “tf are you”, Satan is stunned silent and Simeon soothes things over by being Simeon. Beel asks Simeon who MC and Satan are and he says they are his acquaintances – MC and Sully…….SULLY!! SULLY !!? SULLY!!!!? Out of respect to everyone named sully I won’t say anything, ANYWAY satan has the same issues with the name Sully as I do but Simeon whispers and tells him he doesn’t know if they’re in the past, in an AU or something else entirely so it’d be safer to keep the name ‘Satan’ a secret. Simeon asks what Lucifer’s doing and Beel tells him that he’s at the Celestial Palace, with Michael and the other higher ups which should include Simeon. Simeon says yes but “you see these two idiots here behind me are so fucking dumb they fell into a hidden pit and called me to rescue them because they were too fucking dumb to remember that as angels they have both magic and wings” Satan has the same issues with that excuse as I do. Simeon asks about the brothers, Beel says the same as usual. Levi’s holed up in his room cause he fears he’ll be made redundant with the end of the war (so this takes place around the same time as the last trip to the past). Satan mumbles about Levi being the same even back when he was an angel, MC asks whether Satan remembers anything from when his brothers were angels, he says he has broken fragmented memories from their times as angels because he only sometimes was able to see through Lucifer’s eyes (and I just realised how similar Satan and MC are? They’re both relatively newcomers to the family, biologically they’re nothing like the brothers and probably the rest of their species (Satan being born from Lucifer’s rage and MC having a fallen angel as an ancestor), they both accidentally became part of the family with Lucifer having no choice when all the others were picked by him, they’re both cool, collected and calm but hide destructive magic, from everyone else in the HoL they’re the more normal ones but are also up for stupid shenanigans, they’re both pretty considerate and seem to show affection through acts of service – with how they look out for the others and their needs and likes, neither are scared to talk back to Lucifer, neither have met any of the celestial realm higher ups or know the workings of the celestial realm, neither have really met Lilith, they both had some kinda beef with Lucifer, they were never part of the war between the demons and angels or part of the fight before the Fall, their few memories of the Celestial realm come from either what they saw through Lucifer or what Lilith showed them, they’re the only ones in the family who are biologically related to someone else who either is or was part of the family, they’re stubborn and hardworking, and because right after the Fall and after Lilith’s death I’d imagine Lucifer being broken and regretful of what he see as his decisions - fuelled by his anger - leading to her death and seeing Satan being created from all that overwhelming anger and pain…he probably saw it as everything he did wrong manifesting in the form of a person. As I said earlier I’m pretty sure Mammon’s the one who raised Satan considering he was the one doing a lot of the heavy lifting during the early days of the fall and Lucifer would only later come to acknowledge Satan, and as far as we know he’s only ever acknowledged that he’s technically Satan’s father twice and by this point after years of the two of them avoiding the topic Satan reacts to that acknowledgment with understandable anger but at some point right at the beginning I’d bet a much younger Satan wanted to be accepted and acknowledged by Lucifer, specially after all the others did so. What I’m trying to say is that MC and Satan’s initial relationships with Lucifer were probably similar too with Lucifer being mostly polite and even somewhat protective over them but also being distant and prickly while he tried to determine whether they were a threat to the rest of his brothers, while they resented him, butted heads with him and wanted to be acknowledged and accepted by him in equal measures after everyone else had already accepted them. Also in S1, specially towards the end, MC making pacts with the brothers became less about freeing Belphie and more about proving something to Lucifer – while Satan always seems to have something to prove to Lucifer. Overall, Satan and MC have a lot of similarities and a severely underrated friendship that I really wanna explore more of – I want them coming to each other for problems that the others won’t understand them having, to talk about the few memories they have of the celestial realm, to diss Lucifer, to talk constantly containing destructive power/anger in them, just I need more of them.  Plus would Belphie also have had issues with Satan, initially? I mean imagine your older brother coming to you and saying “so your little sister died in my arms but check out this other kid I just gave birth to”. I dunno Belphie’s grief and anger was irrational thousands of years after Lilith’s death when he blamed her death on the entire human race and you know not the people who actually shot the arrow that killed her (really need to talk about this too), so I can’t even imagine what he would have been like when the loss was still raw and not even a minute after her death Lucifer’s somehow found some new sibling for them.) Right enough rambling. Back to it. Beel says he’s looking for Belphie. Mammon turns up and asks who the shit MC and Satan are, Satan is once again speechless, Asmo’s with Mammon and calls the two of them cuties – poor Satan doesn’t like that one bit. Levi asks for their names and Simeon introduces them – Mammon seems highly suspicious of them, but Asmo accepts it in stride and says ‘Sully’ is an adorable name. Satan looks like he wants to throw hands. Simeon says that he has an idea where Belphie might be and that he & MC will go find him and has asks the others to look after Sully for him. Satan immediately protests but Beel agrees and Levi drags Satan along with them, while Mammon contemplates putting Satan to work to help with whatever they were doing which Satan complains more about (and isn’t this a topsy turvy world), Asmo helps to pull Satan along and Satan screams about where exactly Asmo is putting his hands – Asmo is merely flattered about Satan knowing his name. Satan screams for help as MC and Simeon turn to leave.

Simeon is giggling evilly about Satan’s face when they left him, MC notes he looked happy, Simeon agrees – shocked and freaked out but happy. Simeon said he didn’t leave him back just to be mean but instead because Satan was curious about his brothers’ celestial realm days. MC says “yeah sure you didn’t leave him just to be mean”, Simeon laughs and insists he’s “a nice angel” in the fakest way possible. Simeon says he loves the Celestial Realm air but that this doesn’t feel like the past. MC asks him what past Simeon would be up to – Michael and Lucifer were bossing him around and running him ragged, he says that hasn’t changed since then and that the both of them are sadists at heart who love making things harder for people (Luke vs Simeon’s view of Michael are so different it’s jarring but I also have the picture of someone who looks and acts like Lucifer’s complete opposite with a sweet, sunny personality hiding a cutting, cruel in the same was Lucifer is, even prideful person underneath it all. I just love characters who look and act kind but could and would murder you in cold blood if it benefited their cause),when he wrote TSL – he wrote it after the brother’s left cause he missed them. “No offense to Luke and Satan, who haven’t been born yet but this was the most fun period of my life,” says Simeon to a person who also hasn’t been born yet (also how are angels born? We know that all though there are lots of similarities between the Celestial Realm & the Devildom and Heaven & Hell they aren’t the same places at all, Lucifer refers to God as Father and I’m assuming the other brothers do as well but they’ve said before none of the brothers are actually related to each other, I always assumed God just poofed them into existence. But then how was Luke specifically born? Because it’s heavily implied that Michael is in charge of the Celestial Realm the same way Diavolo is, meaning God – like the Demon King – is probably maybe taking a power nap and Luke is only some hundred years old so he’s probably way after God’s time so how was he and all the newer angels created? I’m 100% sure most of the demons in the Devildom – Diavolo included – were biologically reproduced so did angels learn to do that? Does Luke have parents? But then Raphael saw a normal human party as immoral so, even after so long, I can’t see them promoting sex so then did Michael poof Luke? But if so wouldn’t Luke call Michael Father, the same way Lucifer called God Father? Or is there some cosmic magic energy that poofs out new angels? You guys ever watched that first animated Tinkerbell movie where she was still learning to be a tinker fairy? Remember how she was created? The little dandelion seed that was mixed with that gold glowing fairy dust & magic mixture until it spit out a person? that’s how I imagine OM! Angels are created minus the dandelion part. Swirling unknowable natural magic that mixes with emotions and cosmic matter it draws from its surroundings till it creates an angel.) Simeon makes MC stop and kick a tree as hard as they can (which they do without question) until Belphie falls out.

After Belphie is introduced to MC he asks if they’ve met before and MC very lowkey gaslights him for the sake of the already fucked timeline and Simeon tells him Beel is looking for him. (MC can also tell Belphie they live together and he now considers them a crazy person, unless they are the rat in the attic that’s taken a humanoid form in which case he’s gonna avoid them for the rest of eternity). Belphie says Lucifer had wanted him to do a job but he ‘lol noped’ outta there and now he’s recruiting MC and Simeon to help him with who knows what cause he refuses to explain when MC asks. Belphie is surprised that Simeon has two angels assigned to him and Simeon asks if he’s too much of a low level grunt to be given two angels and Belphie’s like “Dude you’re literally one of the highest ranking people here” and Simeon’s like “oh shit lol we’re in the past” and MC’s absolutely unhinged curiosity and unwillingness to let something go only strikes at the odd moment so they never bother asking how Simeon went from one of the most powerful people in the Celestial Realm to a low level grunt (fucking idiot). Belphie hears Simeon’s oh shit comment and asks what he said, Simeon lies through his teeth and MC comments on angels lying. Simeon gave us the whole white lies speech that our parents gave us at some point. Belphie insists that MC’s familiar and MC suggests in a dream, which Belphie takes cause when you spent most your time asleep reality starts getting warped. Belphie makes Simeon and MC carry 6 blankets, when MC asks what exactly Lucifer made Belphie do he says he made him go get blankets for 6 people & that Lucifer had just given them a list of stuff to get and none of them knew what for. Belphie says that Lucifer’s being gone a lot lately cause the prince of the Devildom keeps calling for him (and so this is definitely after MC’s first visit now and I loved the Devilgram about Lucifer & Diavolo’s first meeting but I need detailed backstory about every meeting since then, about how Lucifer started slowly warming up to Diavolo, how Diavolo was always in awe of him despite how much of a prick he was, how he slowly started doubting the celestial realm and seeing things Diavolo’s way, how he felt like the Celestial Realm was lying to him about how things should be, how he should be and that started building up his resentment and anger that would one day turn into Satan, how he felt more comfortable in the Devildom than he ever had in the celestial realm, how much guilt and anger towards himself all this made feel, I mean all this is briefly touched upon in the devilgram but I need it in depth pls someone come scream at me about this!) Belphie says today is Lucifer’s first free afternoon in a long while. Outside the door they hear Mammon yelling at Satan to catch something.

Outside Levi and Satan are trying to catch fluffy eggs (multi coloured eggs with wings), Levi calls Satan “Sully dear” when he tells him to watch his step which Satan takes great offense to. Satan makes a plan that leads to Levi catching all 6. Asmo comments on how despite just meeting they make a perfect team. They go to the brothers’ secret room where the others were making fluffy egg sandwiches on Lucifer’s orders until Beel let them escape. Beel says he didn’t mean to let them escape cause he only wanted to eat them and Mammon says that’s worse (love to see that Beel’s taken MC’s advice from their previous visit and is not trying to control his snacking). Mammon leaves MC in charge of making sure Beel doesn’t eat the sandwiches and asks Beel when he became so food crazy and he says lately he’s been getting more hungry than normal (I like to think that yeah this is Beel unconsciously following MC’s advice to give in to his urges but also Beel and the rest of the brothers unknowingly already starting their fall into being demons as they become more discontent living in the celestial realm during peacetimes). Satan tells Levi to put only thinner layer of butter on the bread and levi does so, Asmo says that there’s something about MC and ‘Sully’ that makes it feel like despite just meeting them that day it feels like they’ve all known each other much longer (I love how Satan just immediately fits into the group dynamics showing that even though he wasn’t there in the beginning he was always meant to be and how both this and last time MC’s just easily accepted like ‘yeah here’s this weird new angel they’re sticking with us now’). Belphie agrees saying he feels like he’s known them forever. Simeon asks MC and ‘Sully Dear’ if they heard that and that it seems like they all share a special bond. Sully dear takes extreme offense to his new nickname. Asmo tells MC and ‘Sully Dear’ that they’ve now been adopted into the family and that any attempt to resist will be futile. MC tells Asmo that it may not be possible. Belphie’s sad. Beels acts like they didn’t say anything and just repeats that they should stay with them. Mammon adds a ‘forever’ onto the end of that and that Lucifer will make it happen cause there’s nothing he can’t do (do you think if Lucifer stayed in the celestial realm he would have just kept on adopting random misfits and oddballs?). Satan’s daddy issues pop up at the mention of Lucifer and he says that even back then Lucifer was pompous with an over inflated ego (something I like about OM! Is how Satan’s deep issues with Lucifer are never resolved after one wacky adventure. They’re deep and old enough that it’ll take a long time to be fixed but progress is being made after each therapy session with Satan even if there’s the occasional regression. It makes it feel much more real). Satan’s annoyed enough about Lucifer that he doesn’t bother lowering his volume so the brothers end up staring at him silently. Probably shouldn’t have dissed Lucifer in front of people who think he’s the best thing ever. Period. Y’know since sliced bread probably hadn’t been invented at the time. Actually when was sliced bread invented? Wait. July 7 1928. Also apparently sliced bread is banned in the US? Is that true? Oh shit okay I actually read through the article and this happened during WWII and the ban was lifted 3 months later. Also it’s implied the saying “the best thing since sliced bread” originated from Americans pushing back against the ban. Look I don’t wanna start discourse about sliced bread but this one lady wrote to the new york times about how she had to slice 22 pieces of bread everyday to feed her family and like yeah I hate cutting bread too but like damn I’m not gonna write to the papers about it, some people are just so goddamned passionate but then again I don’t need to cut 22 slices of bread everyday – maybe I’d be passionate too in her circumstances)

Mammon, Lucifer’s #1 lil lapdog, says he has no idea what sully’s smoking to be talking about ‘back in these days’ but calling Lucifer ‘pompous with an overinflated ego’ is going too far, Satan’s dumbstruck by Mammon’s betrayal because despite everything Mammon’s always been there ready to badmouth Lucifer. Beel says Lucifer’s a good guy who always thinks about them and does what’s best for them (so it’s the same as now except he doesn’t try to hide all that behind 36 layers of assholery). Belphie says he can be easily misunderstood because he’s cold and blunt. Satan comments on everyone up here loving Lucifer (so it’s the same as now except they don’t try to hide it all behind 36 layers of assholery). Asmo asks why they wouldn’t love him when he’s their ‘beautiful, strong big brother’ and that they’re all proud of him (guys Satan’s seconds away from losing his shit and this is the last chapter dbksnkdsjksdnk next lesson the entire Celestial Realm gets reduced to rubble as Satan goes on a rampage rip). Levi says Lucifer looks after him even though he’s totally useless (he says it so casually too I don’t know whether to laugh or cry). Asmo & Belphie says they don’t know how well Sully knows Lucifer but if he knew him properly it’ll be impossible not to love him (honestly that’s true I hated him till we started learning more about him and now he’s my second favourite character! Guess who’s my first, I bet you can’t!). Satan’s absolutely dumbfounded by the suggestion. Simeon agrees with them saying it’s time to mend fences and maybe Satan can take the first step. Satan seems upset, realising that Simeon left him with the brothers in the hopes that they’d get through to him about Lucifer but then he gets pissed demanding if Simeon set up this whole journey to the past thing. Simeon denies it and tells satan to calm his tits. But Satan’s on a role now, asking if he’s doing it for the status, if he gets Satan and Lucifer to work things out he’ll get prestige amongst the angels which honestly makes no sense but anger rarely makes you rational so whatever. He goes on to ask if Simeon hoped he could control Satan, the same way Lucifer does (and hoo boy the issues. I like to imagine MC’s contemplating jumping out the window right about now.) Simeon tries to deny all of this but is cut off by Satan saying that Simeon thinks Satan needs to understand where Lucifer’s coming from and how he’s not so bad but that Satan doesn’t like Simeon telling him what to do and that he can’t believe Simeon created a whole illusion just to get what he wanted. And then he’s screaming about how if Lucifer is so precious to Simeon he should try being “Lucifer’s sweet, obedient little brother” (to be fair the idea of being micromanaged by your father who doesn’t even want to admit to being your father is very shudder inducing). The brothers obviously where no idea what the fuck is going on (MC has created a rope by tying blankets together and is now rappelling down through the window), Levi stutters and asks what Sully’s talking about, Beel asks if he and Lucifer have history, Satan looks shocked and sad for a second before he storms out (probably not a good idea considering what he is, where they are and when they are). Asmo seems upset he left, Mammon seems agitated and wonders wtf his deal was. Simeon says he hadn’t meant to set him off like that and that after all of MC’s therapy sessions Satan would have been more open to talking about everything but that he realises that Satan’s progressing at his own pace. MC knowing their job is never over (climbs back up through the window) offers to go after him. Simeon thanks them and says he feels terrible and will apologise but to spare Simeon’s head being ripped from his shoulders MC really should go smooth things over first. They find Satan in the woods looking sad and ask if he’s okay, he doesn’t reply. They can either hug him or take his hand. Hugging leads to a kiss there’s no choice (whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy let MC hug their friends and give the option to kiss or not instead of them both being to kiss). They sit silently together under the trees, holding hands and looking up at the Celestial Palace and this is the sweetest type of silent understanding that I love. After Satan’s calmed down he says MC can leave and go back to the others now. Just before they can answer they are confronted by Lucifer who asks them who they are and what they’re doing there. And that’s the end :))))))))))))))) Next Lesson’s either gonna be a long ass therapy session or a full out street fight can’t wait

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bojo's "New Deal" is neither

Whenever I think of grifters, I get that classic image of an overconfident, self-destructive idiot racing across a river on the backs of alligators, certain that they won't stumble and lose a leg. See, for example, DJ Trump. Or Boris Johnson. You know that grifter tactic of putting a scandal behind you by creating a bigger scandal? That's pure gator-dancing. Grifters love debt - spending other peoples' money is Grifter 101. But it's not just money-debt - it's also policy debt. If you have a real problem and a fake solution, the real problem will continue to fester until it becomes so acute that you have a rupture, a default, a leg chewed off. The grifter way of dealing with this is blowing town before the rupture. The snake-oil salesman who prescribes alternating doses of speed and opioids to "cure your cancer" stays long enough to witness your stoned, energized delight and collect his fee, then gtfos before you enter metastasis and croak. The 4-5 year terms of Anglo-American elections are not a bad timeframe for this kind of grift. Reaganomics can produce a stock-market sugar rush and hectic roses on the economy's cheeks in that period, and then Ronny can toddle off to count his polyps before the bill is due. Some gators, though, have faster-than-average reflexes and can turn and take a leg before you can move on. Coronavirus, with its 3-week crisis cycles, is among the most intensely anti-grift adversaries that chancers like Trump and Bojo could encounter. "Everything's fine! Get drunk in an enclosed space while desperate, precarious, racialized people sharpen your fingernails and groom your fur! It will be fine!" [3 weeks pass] "Uh, we've always been pro-mask. Why the fuck are you in that bar? Personal responsibility!" The chancers have fed our lungs and our economy to the gators, by refusing to lock down and refusing to fund a stay-at-home order. Now, they're trying to figure out how to distract us from the sight of all those gators masticating our severed legs. Bojo's idea? A "New Deal." That was FDR's plan to revitalize the economy after the Great Depression through extensive public spending that offered meaningful employment in the caring and infrastructure sectors, with generous arts and scholarship spending. Which would be pretty amazing! But Bojo's Made-in-Britain New Deal is just another grift. FDR's New Deal accounted for FORTY PERCENT OF US GDP. Boris's proposed spend is 0.2%. Zero. Point. Two. Percent. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/jul/04/boris-johnsons-new-deal-is-roosevelt-lite Grifters like to surround themselves with other grifters. Reagan had Nancy's astrologer. Boris has Dominic "Typhoid Dom" Cummings, who has his own back to the future plan: a Made-in-Britain ARPA (the US agency that created the internet, GPS, etc). This is how ARPA worked: https://benjaminreinhardt.com/wddw A kind of autonomous, excellence-focused institution where advancement was based on skill, not aristocratic birth. It's impossible to imagine such an institution emerging from a Tory regime. The posh boys would fill the agency with inbred double-hairs in need of cushy resume-padding and an expense account. It wouldn't produce a new internet - it would produce a massive bar-tab and a long tail of sexual harassment claims.

[thearvariblues]

Too Much of Damn Peace

“I just want some damn peace!”

“Well here’s your peace!”

The bottle smashes on the ground and Geralt growls. Jaskier is almost about to apologize – he really shouldn’t have broken the bloody thing, he didn’t even want to, he was just angry and Geralt was shouting…

But then the wind rises and Jaskier feels an invisible force close around his throat, a horrible pressure…

He doubles over and clutches his throat.

“Geralt!” he hears himself croak, instinctively reaching for the Witcher.

It hurts, it hurts so fucking much…

And then something snaps. The pain goes away, but something is missing. Something is wrong. Horribly, terrifyingly wrong.

“Jaskier?”

He doesn’t know what is wrong until he opens his mouth and tries to say something… and nothing comes out.

His eyes go wide and he gestures at his throat, opening and closing his mouth a few times, hoping that Geralt will understand. And he does.

“Oh,” the Witcher mutters. “Fuck.”

Yes, Jaskier thinks. That sums it up quite nicely.

*

They find a healer, and with his help, they find a mage, Yennefer. She is currently holding an orgy when they do, and if the circumstances were different, Jaskier would absolutely join in, but he’s not in the mood tonight. Maybe when she heals him, though…

“There’s nothing I can do,” the mage says. “His voice is gone.”

Jaskier’s lips are halfway through “excuse me?!” when his brain catches up. He shuts his mouth and looks at Geralt.

“What do you mean nothing?” Geralt frowns.

“I mean,” the mage sighs, “that even though his injury is magical in its nature, there is no magical way to remove it. Well, except for the force that inflicted it in the first place.”

“The djinn,” Geralt nods. “Yes, that could…”

Jaskier points at his throat and shakes his head.

“But he can’t make his last wish if he can’t speak,” Geralt says.

“That’s the problem, yes,” Yennefer says, unconcerned.

“So what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Try the true love’s kiss?” she smirks.

Jaskier snorts.

“I don’t think so,” Geralt mutters. “Well, thank you, I suppose. We’ll be on our way.”

“Wait. Maybe I could… think of something,” she says, smiling a little. “If you stayed for the night. Give me some time and I–”

“I don’t think so,” Geralt shakes his head. “Come on, Jaskier. We’ll find a tavern to sleep in.”

*

It’s not hard for Jaskier to come to terms with losing his voice. The reason is simple – he doesn’t believe he lost it for good. Not for one second. He trusts his friend, he just knows Geralt will find a way to make Jaskier able speak again, no matter the cost. This whole affair is just a tiny bump on the road, a minor inconvenience that will go away within a few days.

Or weeks.

Maybe… Maybe months.

As the days pass, it becomes harder and harder not to stop believing, but Jaskier is an eternal optimist and he’d rather die than lose hope. He clings to it, just as much as he clings to the Witcher himself. He doesn’t have much of a choice, really. A mute bard can hardly take care of himself, can he?

“It’s my fault,” the Witcher mutters one evening, weeks after the incident, as they sit by the fire in their camp. “I should have… protected you.”

Jaskier reaches for his notebook, scribbles a single word in it and shows it to Geralt.

“Bollocks,” Geralt reads out loud and smirks. “As you wish. But you know it’s true.”

Jaskier turns the notebook back to himself and scribbles another word.

“Bollocks,” Geralt says. “But the letters are bigger.”

Jaskier shrugs.

“We really need to find a better way to communicate,” Geralt mutters. “It takes you too damn long to write what you want to say, and then you get all impatient and your writing becomes illegible.”

Jaskier opens his mouth, clutches his chest and gasps, clearly offended.

“You know, there’s a… sign language the deaf people use, right?” Geralt asks, biting his lower lip.

Jaskier nods.

“I just thought… I know we’re both hoping we can somehow bring your voice back, but until then…”

Jaskier sighs and starts writing.

“I know a guy,” Geralt reads. “Did you sleep with his sister, though? Mother?”

Jaskier shakes his head, writes a single word and shows his notebook to Geralt.

“Him. Oh,” Geralt blinks. “And you think he would be… willing to help?”

Jaskier nods.

“Right. Where can we find him?”

*

They go to Jaskier’s ex-lover. They learn a few things about sign language, Jaskier fucks the guy and they leave in a bit of a hurry with a stack of books that are technically not quite theirs.

Geralt tries to pretend to be mad, but Jaskier sees right through him. As he always does.

They hide in a small town for a few days and Geralt takes a few easy contracts while Jaskier buries himself in the borrowed (well, stolen) books.

“Did you learn anything new today?” Geralt smiles as he enters their shared room, already tugging at the straps of his bloody armor to take it off.

Jaskier beams and lifts his hands.

“Something that isn’t swearing or asking for sex,” Geralt specifies.

Jaskier frowns and lets his hands fall down.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Geralt chuckles. “You should really try to learn something useful, Jask.”

Jaskier makes a brief gesture.

“Okay, I understood this one. And it’s not a nice thing to say, you know?”

This time, there is a whole series of gestures.

“That’s just more swearing, isn’t it?”

Jaskier nods.

“Would you… Would you like to learn… together?” Geralt offers.

Jaskier blinks before nodding again, more slowly this time.

“Fine. Pass me a fucking book that does not contain new swearwords…”

*

The weeks, as Jaskier was afraid, turn to months, and his voice still doesn’t come back. He desperately tries to hold onto his hope, but he’s starting to feel like he’s grasping at straws. If there was anything to be done, surely Geralt would have done it already?

Maybe… Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try the true love’s kiss route – the only problem is, it would also require Geralt’s assistance. And Jaskier isn’t ready to try and explain that.

And perhaps it’s for the best, he concludes. Because Geralt seems much better off without Jaskier’s voice bothering him all the time. He’s been smiling more lately. And talking more. Almost as if he tries to compensate for the silence left by Jaskier’s muteness. He tells Jaskier stories about his adventures before the two of them met, his childhood at Kaer Morhen, his brothers. It’s more than he’s ever told the bard, more than Jaskier could ever ask for.

And Jaskier finds that he would be willing to listen the Witcher’s deep voice for the rest of his life.

“You’re coming with me to Kaer Morhen this winter,” Geralt announces one day, as winter draws closer and closer.

Jaskier raises his eyebrows and makes a gesture.

“Because I can’t leave you alone when you’re like this,” Geralt says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. “You can’t earn money singing in taverns, you can’t even teach at Oxenfurt as you usually do during winters.”

Jaskier signs furiously.

“I’m not saying you’re useless,” Geralt sighs. “I’m just saying… It’s gonna be hard for you to make a living this winter without your fucking voice.”

Jaskier signs again.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re not gonna freeze to death in Kaer Morhen. Lose a few toes, perhaps…”

Jaskier’s eyes go wide and he makes a few more gestures.

“No, of course it’s not funny,” Geralt chuckles. “Well. Maybe a little…”

*

Nevertheless, Jaskier joins Geralt on his way to Kaer Morhen before the winter comes. Not because Geralt was right and Jaskier is finished as a lecturer and a bard, just because he’s been waiting for years for this invitation and he’s not going to ruin his chance by being offended. He just wants to spend a few contractless months with Geralt and meet his famous brothers – and if he needs to sacrifice his toes to do that, then so be it.

And maybe, just maybe, he will be able to convince Geralt to cuddle with him a little… Just to warm him up, of course. Nothing more.

He would never dare asking for more…

*

“It’s just typical, isn’t it?” Geralt’s brother Lambert snorts one evening and stuffs a piece of meat into his mouth. “You keep promising to bring the bard for the winter… And when you finally do, he’s fucking mute.”

“Lambert,” Geralt growls.

Jaskier smirks and makes a sign that’s pretty understandable even for the younger Witcher.

“Honestly,” Eskel shrugs, “I was also looking forward to hearing the songs you’ve kept praising for years.”

Jaskier blinks and signs at Geralt.

“Yeah,” Geralt mutters and his cheeks absolutely don’t go slightly pink. “Praising. Don’t make too much of it.”

Jaskier gestures.

“Well… Yes, I guess you could still at least play.”

Jaskier grins, jumps to his feet and promptly disappears. When he comes back, he’s holding his lute and Geralt can’t hide his smile.

Jaskier sits down, impossibly close, winks at Geralt and starts to play a song that the Witcher knows almost too well, because it’s been following him ever since he met Jaskier all those years ago. That’s why he finds himself quietly humming the melody. And that’s probably why, as the chorus comes, he starts to sing.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher, O’ Valley of Plenty…”

He opens his eyes to see Jaskier smiling wider than Geralt’s ever seen him, and he can almost feel his heart melt. Jaskier looks so beautiful like this, and Geralt wants…

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, almost inaudibly over the sound of the lute, and then he reaches out, grabs the back of Jaskier’s neck and kisses him, long and deep. He hears Vesemir’s sigh, Eskel’s laugh and Lambert’s disgusted groan, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted to do this for so, so long…

When he pulls away, Jaskier is staring at him with his blue eyes wide with shock. He opens his mouth, realizes it’s futile and closes it again.

And Geralt… Geralt just can’t take it. He jumps to his feet. He runs away from the room.

He hears the footsteps that immediately start to follow him, of course, but he just cannot face Jaskier right now.

But then a hand closes around his arm and yanks him around, much stronger than he would ever expect.

This time, there’s pure fury in Jaskier’s gaze as the bard starts to gesture wildly.

“Gods, will you just slow down?” Geralt groans. “I don’t understand half the things you’re trying to say!”

Jaskier huffs and starts again, more slowly this time.

“No. Wait. No,” Geralt says a few moments later. “I don’t think you’re not enough.”

Jaskier frowns and his hands start moving again.

“I… You don’t get it, do you? I feel like it’s my fault. This… Injury of yours.”

A simple gesture.

“Why? Why? Because you were with me when it happened and I couldn’t stop it. Because I can’t find a way to cure it. Because I know I wanted some damn peace but this is… Too much of damn peace.”

Jaskier shrugs and signs a single sentence.

“What do I want?” he blinks. “I… I just want you to have your voice back.”

A sudden gust of wind billows their clothes and hair and Jaskier, to Geralt’s horror, clutches his throat and gasps for breath.

“No,” Geralt mutters and grabs the bard’s arms to support him. “No, no, no, please, not again…”

The wind stops just as abruptly as it started and Jaskier meets the Witcher’s gaze. His lower lip is trembling.

“Geralt,” he croaks weakly.

“Jaskier?” Geralt whispers, unable to believe what’s happening. “What…”

“Oh, fuck,” Jaskier says. “What the everloving fuck… So it was your fault, you asshole!”

“W-what?” Geralt blinks.

“You were the one with the wishes, you dick! You wished for some peace, and you got it! You wished I had my voice back, and you got it! It means that it was never me, it was you! And it means you could have brought my voice back months ago! And it means… Fuck, it means Valdo Marx is still alive, isn’t he? Damn it. But oh, it feels so good to be able to talk again. It feels awesome. Oh, dear. I’m never shutting up again, ever. I’m gonna talk and sing and… Yes, sing! Toss a coin to your Witcher, O’ Valley of–”

But he does shut up when Geralt presses a kiss against his lips.

*

Geralt hums quietly against Jaskier’s skin, burying his face into the bard’s shoulder.

“Jaskier,” he sighs, but there is no reply. He lifts his head and looks at the bard. “Jaskier?”

“Mhm?” Jaskier smiles. “Oh, sorry, dear. I got lost in my own head, I’m afraid.”

“That’s all right,” Geralt mutters, letting his head fall back down. “I guess it’s gonna take a while before I stop getting nervous when you suddenly go silent.”

“Understandable, I guess,” Jaskier chuckles. “You do realize that you’ve wasted two wishes on me, right?”

“If this is where it got me, I don’t care.”

“Also understandable.”

“Asshole.”

“I know, I know,” Jaskier laughs. “So… What’s your last wish gonna be?”

Geralt closes his eyes and breathes in Jaskier’s scent.

“I wish you were as immortal as me,” he whispers and braces himself against another gust of wind… Which doesn’t come.

“Hm,” Jaskier hums. “Oh, right. Remember two months ago when we got lost in the woods and we didn’t have anything to eat and you said I wish I had a few apples for Roach at least and then I, a humble bard, suddenly saw a fucking apple tree that you, the mighty Witcher, somehow completely and totally missed?”

“So… Your voice was my last wish,” Geralt sighs. “Well, at least it wasn’t wasted.”

“It’s a shame, though. I’d really, really like to spend the rest of your life with you, darling.”

Geralt smiles and places a kiss right next to Jaskier’s nipple.

“I guess we’re just gonna have to enjoy the time we have left, right?”

“Oh?” Jaskier laughs. “You have anything in mind?”

“I might have an idea or two…”

Their lips meet.

Somewhere above them, a djinn takes something similar to a deep breath… And grants the Witcher his fourth wish.

[aclosetfan]

are u still doing the ask game? can i ask for 19 or 20?

for you anon, of course! 20 is actually a really lame two-sentence note that isn't worth anyone's time, so I'll do 19!

19 is a really sad story tbh. I've always really liked the character Sedusa and it kills me that the writers never did more with her. I believe they said the reason why was because they couldn't think of many kid-friendly scenarios to put her in, which is fair lmao.

lol one of my notes for this outline is "this is my dark manifesto to [Sedusa] and it comes off like a bad CW remake," which was written way before the CW show announcement. so not to get a big ego about things, but I totally beat them to the punch. This fic is my only rated M fic (though arguably Acting Normal may also change into M just for its dark themes as well).

This story is adequately tilted "Sedusa" and it follows how a plain jane named Sara became one of Townsville's most notorious villains. The plot's below, though content warning, please don’t read if your triggered by abusive relationships, domestic violence, child abuse, sexual assault/harassment, or gore. The outline won't be detailed (and tbh the actual story won't be heavily detailed either) but i believe that everyone still deserves a fair warning :)

The outline doesn't do the plot justice, but it's all I got so hopefully people just Get It.

CHARACTER NOTES:

Canonically, I believe the Sedusa's character was supposed to represent envy and lust. So, one of the main themes I try to stick with when writing her character is the definition of envy, which is a "feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck."

PLOT:

Sara is a sweet and mousy little girl, who tries her best to stay invisible. She's rather plain-looking except for her really beautiful long dark hair. Originally, she's not from Townsville, but somewhere in the "country" where a person could be considered a bumpkin. Sara's a smart young girl, but her intelligence is rather unrefined. She spends most of her time obsessing over greek and Egyptian mythology.

She's from a rather big family, but she's the baby. Her father is abusive. Her mother is neglectful and Sara resents her mother for just standing by while abuse is occurring. To cope, Sara dreams of running away and falls deeper into her mythology obsession--specifically Medusa. Sara feels like Medusa would understand her.

At 16, she runs away to Townsville where she tries to be a hairdresser. With no money, she ends up in a really seedy part of town and the beauty parlor she works for ends up being a front for more illicit activities. She still does hair, but really makes her money as a call-girl of sorts. Just one of those girls who gives handjobs in the back to sad old men. It's easy money (I'm pro-sex work lol so I don't make this a big deal, but she's still a minor and it's wrong), but she's disgusted with herself (and men). At this time, she isn't very good at manipulating men--it's more like they have power over her and it reminds her of her father, only making her angrier and angrier.

It is also of note that while she's working at the Parlor, she encounters Sarah Bellum via tv (Ms. Bellum is just an intern with the Mayor at this point). She's instantly fascinated by this other Sarah and forms an odd (slightly toxic) parasocial relationship with her. Sara thinks it's amazing that Sarah went to school and is just so glamourous. Ms. Bellum is really everything Sara wants to be.

*time skip*

Sara falls in love with some jackass. Still slightly obsessed with Sarah Bellum. Still working at the parlor. Sara feels stagnant and worthless. Her jackass boyfriend and a few of his shitty friends end up attacking Sara and cutting off her hair (which was her prized possession). She gets away, but not totally unscathed.

In the process of running away, she bumps into a mysterious man who promises He can fix whatever is troubling her. The mysterious man manipulates an affirmative answer out of Sara and he "fixes" her problem. The man is HIM and he transforms her into the woman we all know as Sedusa (who goes by Ima when disguised).

“And what is it that you want?” HIM tsked, almost sounding bored.

She looked back at the mirror, at her broken reflection and lipstick smeared down her face. With a sore, croaking voice she sneered, “I want my fu-fucking hair back.”

Behind her, the entity smiled, Its facing splitting wide into two, “Oh, now that I can do.”

She watched through the shattered glass how It—HIM—snapped its odd monstrous claw. HIM’s smile grew more grotesque, as a thin bead of sweat began to break out on her forehead.

“This might hurt a little bit,” the entity giggled as she began to hyperventilate, “but what is that you little humans say?" HIM paused, watching her with a tilt of Its head as pain shot through her temples, "Oh, that’s right—”

She gasped and then screamed, dropping to her knees as she clutched at her head. Something wiggled underneath her scalp, pushing harder and harder to break against the resistance of her skin. It felt as if something was pressing against her brain, trying to carve away at her skull.

“—beauty is pain.” HIM growled, appearing next to her so Its voice—now low and baritone—was right in her ear, and It grasped her by the chin forcing her to watch the mirror as snake-like tendrils sprouted from her skull. She cried out at the sight and her body trembled with the pain.

One black, oily, twisted snake after another shot out of a bloody crater on her head. She tried her best through the pain to shake HIM off—to look away—but It held her still with a twisted laugh. She thrashed and howled in agony as the blood poured down her face in rivets. HIM didn't let go. Instead, HIM forced her still, grabbing her by the chin so she'd peer directly into the broken mirror.

Sara paled right before her very eyes, from a peachy skin tone to a white paste. She tried to blink away the tears that wouldn’t stop welling in her eyes—the green of them becoming more acidic with every passing second.

“The fun should be ending soon.” HIM giggled again, Its voice back to a soprano, but she was too forgone to hear him, as her eyes began to lull into the back of her head.

Eventually, when the transformation is complete, we see this:

Sara had stayed collapsed on her knees after HIM vanished into thin air. She stared with wide eyes as blood, sweat, and tears dripped onto and rolled off her thighs. She hardly paid attention to her surrounding, all she could do was listen. She listened to her hair. She listened to the constant moving, living, mass that slithered around her head, neck, and shoulders. The coils almost seemed to be cooing at her, comforting her through her pain, offering sweet apologies for what they had done. They promised her nothing bad would ever happen again. They were a dangerous shield forged from her own body to protect her.

Her body. A vessel for this odd new life.

“Heh.” A deranged giggle escaped her mouth, “Heh. Heh ha—hahaha!” She laughed until her throat burned and tightened, her tears finally drying.

It was instantaneous. It was powerful. Sara had never known love before, but she loved them. She loved every single one of them.

And here she had thought she'd never be a mother.

Sara becomes Sedusa--taking inspiration from Medusa, her childhood fascination. She wonders if HIM knew, but she wouldn't bother asking. She feels sexy, powerful, and unstoppable. Her hair has instilled a new confidence in her and she's finally able to stand up for herself. Soon, she realizes that she's an "exotic" beauty and has men eating out of her hand. She isn't someone who kills, but if she gets bored (or feels threaten) she will.

Things are going good until the PowerPuff Girls are finally created. When she sees them for the first time, she pities them, especially when they're run out of town. She relates to them for not being loved little girls, but is completely shocked when she finds out they've won the town over. This shock turns into resentment and she decides she'll get even with the girls

Then, cue canon. Sedusa seduces the Professor. We see what happens in that episode plus a little more. Sedusa takes out a lot of her repressed childhood trauma on the girls and is plain awful to them. By the time her stint with the Professor is over, she hates them all.

Then, there's the episode with Bellum. Bellum becomes the Athena to Sedusa's medusa. Bellum is still this elevated person in Sedusa's mind, and it only makes sense to Sedusa that she should become Bellum. To become Bellum, Sedusa seduces Bellum and they end up having a brief relationship. (Sedusa pretends to be an intern at City Hall and the two ladies bond over having the same first name). Eventually, Sedusa reveals her plot and the canon events happen. (Bellum is heartbroken over Sedusa).

I'd like to emphasize that Sedusa's relationship with Bellum almost turns her "good," but her hair coils (HIM's curse) prevents her from taking those steps. Her coils prevent close loving relationships--since they're supposed to be shield that keeps people out, preventing any chance that Sedusa's heart may be broken again. [coils represent her inability to heal from the past]

Then we run through a quick montage of her other appearances.

[throughout all of this, I would write how her hair coils are making her more and more insane]

*time skip to after the events of the og show*

This is where my plot can go anywhere. I think Sedusa becomes sloppy, maybe kills a politican. She's spirialing out of control and mad that she can't find any real happiness in her life. I think it'd be interesting to show her interacting with the rrb, not necessarily to show their relationship, but to show how Sedusa would be infuriated that HIM had sons, especially sons who hurt girls for fun ( i.e. the ppg) (a real 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' moment for her). She's also infuriated at HIM for turning her into a monster, so being mad about his "sons" is just an excuse to get even with the entity.

To hurt HIM, she decides to hurt the boys, but the girls interfere. They won't let innocent live be taken, no matter the person's moral alignment. This infuriates Sedusa even more than HIM ever could. Because again, despite all the shitty things that have happened to the Girls, they are still good as opposed to Sedusa, who ended up bad. She doesn't understand why she had to end up the way she did.

However, the girls aren't the people who finally "defeat" Sedusa. Instead, that honor is left to Ms. Bellum (Sedusa's "Athena"), who Sedusa still very much loves in her own sick twisted way. Paralleling the Sedusa/Bellum episode in the og show, the girls (while protecting the boys) are almost defeated by Sedusa until Bellum intervenes. It's revealed that Bellum had a shitty childhood too (again enforcing the parallels/differences between the two women) and believes that it's not too late for Sedusa to change her ways (it’s a real “I’m rotten work” “no it isn’t. Not if it’s you” moment) In a moment of mental clarity, where the coils (and by extension HIM) cannot affect her judgement, Sedusa releases the boys and the girls. Sedusa doesn't stay though, like Bellum pleads, she gets scared and runs away. (but does tell Bellum she’d always love her, whatever that’s good for)

[also I decide bellum to defeat sedusa to show that the girls are still to young and that adults should be the ones dealing with other adults] [and bellum has a good track record of doing just that]

Idk if she'd be gone forever, but it's implied that she hasn't been seen in Townsville for a long time. What she gets up to is left ambiguous. She can't be good because of her hair coils, but she doesn't want to be bad. idk I don't want it to have a sad ending, but I don't think it can really be happy.

-----

I try hard to play with the concept of beauty, womanhood, purity, love and how negative/positive responses to trauma affect these concepts. Idk it's really rough and needs to be thought out more, especially the end, but I think Sedusa deserves her own story.

[phoenixhalliwell]

Waking Up In Vegas

Pairings: Benny Miller X Gender Neutral Reader (I have given them a call sign ‘Tink’ cos I love that nickname lol)

Word count: 2490

Author’s Note: Tumblr is being a wee weirdo and I cant find the link for this fic and my other frankie one for my masterlist so I have to report again *cries*

Archnemesis Benny and reader wake up the morning after a wild night in Vegas with the boys to a surprise revelation.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG 

 It takes a second to realise that the noise isn’t just your head pounding but in fact someone knocking rapidly at the door. A whimper leaves you as you try not to throw up. You wiggle around the bed, trying to get loose from the heavy blankets but fail miserably.

“Please, stop….too loud. Dying” is all you’re able to croak out. Your mouth is drier than the desert and a one man band is marching in your head. Looking down you realise that it is not a blanket weighing you down but an arm. An arm that is now pulling you backwards to firmly press you against their warm chest. A groan comes from behind you and a face  nuzzles into your throat. You can feel the panic starting to build in your chest.

'Oh god, oh god. What the fuck!’ You are brought out of your freak out by a familiar voice.

“Are you going to open the door willingly Tink? Or am I going to have to come in there myself!”

Frankie! Relief rushes through you at your saviour. Frankie is a good guy, he won’t give you shit for this like the other boys. It’ll be swept under the rug and no one else has to know. That’s why Frankie is your favourite. The person behind you suddenly makes their displeasure at being rudely woken known.

“Will you shut the fuck up Fish, some of us are trying to sleep”

A coldness rushes through you. NO. FUCKING. WAY. Not him. Please not him. Slowly turning in the arms that have you in a death grip, you let out a low moan. Benny Miller is lying there in all his glory. He looks almost angelic with the way the morning sunlight hits him just right, making him glow. But you know the truth.

That man is the fucking DEVIL.

To say you and Benny dislike one another was an understatement. There is a long standing feud between you and the younger Miller that goes so far back you can’t quite remember how it started. You were originally a medic under the command of his brother Will, but over time (with Will vouching for your skills) you’d been pulled into other little jobs that involved his old army buddies and his dipshit little brother. You were welcomed into this little make shift family with open arms (well by most people anyways).Will, Santiago and Frankie - you thought the world of.  Benny…. let’s just say you wouldn’t piss on if he was on fire. There was just something about Benny that just irks you. The way he calls you names and winds you up until you explode and end up being separated by Will who is sick of both of your shit. That god damn cocky grin rubs you up the wrong way. The way he thinks he’s god’s gift to mankind and struts about. Sure, he is a handsome man and is talented at his profession.He can be kind when he wants to be. He’s loyal and he’ll have your back if the situation calls for it,  but it doesn’t mean he has to show off all the fucking time! He’s a god damn pain in your ass!

So to wake up this morning and find out you two have evidently slept together causes a small part of you to die inside. This bastard is never going to let you hear the end of it. You try to cast your mind back on what actually led you to your current predicament.

You and the boys were spending the weekend in Vegas for Santiago’s bachelor party. The wild stallion had finally been tamed and he wanted one last hoorah with his family before the new chapter of his life. The original plan was to have a nice dinner at the Bellagio before hitting up the tables in hopes of winning some cash. That part you could remember, it is the rest that comes in drips and drabs.

The chant of “Shots! Shots! Shots!” echoes in your mind and there is still a faint taste of tequila in your mouth. 'That explains why I can’t remember jack shit. Did we do Karaoke?’ You can see Frankie and Benny screeching “I want to know what love is ” with Will swaying along and Santi throwing money at the them from the front of the stage. 'Why can I hear bells ringing?’ There is also a familiar body ache you know the exact cause of. More flashes come to mind that make your heart race : Stumbling into walls, the desperation of trying to undress quickly, a hot breath on your neck, hands gripping your waist, filthy words being whispered into your ear….

'I’m never drinking again’

The banging at the door starts again, Frankie is clearly pissed at being kept waiting.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your marital bliss but check out is at 11 and I know for a fact neither of you fuck heads have packed”

Marital bliss? Who the hell is married?

You eyes drift down to your left hand and its suddenly hard to breathe. There is a nice new addition to your ring finger. A gold band that sure as shit was not there yesterday. This seems like the perfect moment to start screaming. Benny is up in an instant, scanning the room for the unknown threat. Once he realises it’s just the two of you, his body relaxes and he scrubs his hand over his face. It takes him a moment to notice the feeling of cold metal on his skin and he stares down at his hand, an unreadable look on his face. You are just able to hear him whisper

“Fuck, its real”

This whole situation is suddenly too much and everything becomes blurry as tears fall from your eyes. You can feel yourself start to hyperventilate and Benny is at your side in an instant trying to console you.

“Come on sweetheart you need to calm down. Feel my chest and breathe with me yeah? In… and out…. It’s ok I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurances over and over again. You try to focus on the sound of his deep voice, try to follow his instructions to help regulate your breathing. Gradually it returns to normal and you slump forward into Benny’s arms suddenly exhausted. He rubs his hand up and down your back, somewhat soothing you. You  feel him sigh before he turns his face into your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your head. It suddenly occurs to you that Benny has never been this gentle with you and your heart clenches a little. You feel him pull away from you and have to stop yourself from squeezing him tight.  You stand there for a few seconds in silence before you hear the door opening behind you. Frankie must have found the spare key to your room.

“Are you guys still alive in here?” he asks timidly, glancing between  you and Benny,  eyes zoning in on how close the both of you were.

“Yeah man, we’re good.” Benny  replies, moving to stand on the other side of the room.

“Look I am really sorry to rush you’s but Will’s anxious to get on the road and he might end up murdering Santi before the wedding if we all don’t hustle” Frankie says apologetically.

“I’ll catch you guys downstairs. I won’t be long” Benny grabs his things off the floor before making a break for the door, leaving you and Frankie to stare at each other awkwardly.

“Not a word Morales” you threaten.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Tink. Let’s pack your stuff and get the fuck out of dodge yeah?”

Like you said. Frankie was always your favourite.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover breakfast. Those little shits planned it so you and Benny are forced to sit side by side in the booth. Frankie is looking somewhat sympathetic when Santi slides a piece of paper over to you with a shit eating grin. It’s photographic evidence of the worst decision of your life. You still weren’t sure how you guys ended up in the little white chapel saying the big 'I Do’. None of the boys seem to remember either or were just refusing to give up any information about it in case they incriminated one of their brothers.

'Bet you it was all that bastard Santi’s fault’

Sighing, you finally look down at the photo in front of you. It was the 5 of you all lined up. You and Benny stand in the middle of the photo, clinging to each other. You were snuggled into his chest as he gazes down at you in awe. You swallow sharply and tear your eyes over to Will who is off to Benny’s left and appears to be crying? (I was just so happy someone took the little shit off my hands) Obviously Will stood in as Benny’s best man, that was a given. On the far end of the photo on your side stood Santi who looked dishevelled and pissed off. Was that blood on his shirt? Between him and you stood Frankie who (unusual for him) was sporting a Cheshire grin. Confused, you looked up at the two men in front of you and suddenly noticed real life Santi had a black eye.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

The two men glanced at each other in embarrassment before Santi quietly admitted that he and Frankie had got into a fist fight over who was going to be your right hand man. Will snorts into his hand in the corner.

'God give me strength not to kill these stupid bastards’  Sighing and rubbing your temples you shot them a glare which has the 3 men across from you cowering in their seats.

“So at no point did any of you guys think to put a stop to this madness?” You growl.

“Is the idea of being married to me really the worst thing in the world?” You hear Benny asks quietly, still not looking at you.

The boys have the good grace to look a little ashamed before Santi decides to pipe up and make his defence.

“Well how could we? Benny spent the best part of the night proclaiming his undying love you. Fuck he even serenaded you at the Karaoke bar.” There is a loud thud and Santi’s face  twists into a grimace. Apparently someone had kicked him under the table.

“Yeah right as if Benny would ever say anything like that! He hates my fucking guts. Right Benny?” You scoff and nudge him with your elbow. An uncomfortable silence washes over the table and Benny refuses to look at you. It’s good old Will who breaks the silence, abruptly standing up.

“Why don’t we go sort out the bill yeah?” looking to his brothers.

Santi squawks in outrage and throws up his hands “But it was just getting to the good part!!!” Will grabs him by the collar of his shirt and drags him out of the booth, muttering furiously into his ear before marching him off to god knows where. Frankie reaches over and gently squeezes your hand before sliding out and giving Benny a pat on the shoulder on the way by.

“Good luck hermano” he calls over his shoulder. You wait for a beat before turning to Benny gearing yourself up for a fight.

“Are you fucking serious right now. Or is this all an elaborate game that you and the boys have cooked up Huh?” you hiss.

“You really think I’m that cruel?” he fires back.

“I don’t know! Ever since I met you, you’ve made my life a living hell Benny! So why wouldn’t this not be the next step in the ’ terrorise Tink’ grande scheme?” The remark clearly hits him hard as he whirls round to finally face you.

“You really have no clue do you.”

“What the hell are you talking about Miller?”

Benny scoffs bitterly and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t hate you Tink! I never have. I’m so far gone on you that Will threatens daily to kill me if I don’t shut up about you. Ask him or any of the guys for that matter”. There’s a look of pleading on his face as though begging you to believe what he is saying that leaves you completely floored. Without waiting for a response he barrels on, the dam broken, clearly needing to get everything off his chest at last.

“Do you realise how intimidating it is to talk to you?. You’re amazing and so fucking beautiful Tink that I feel like I can’t breathe every time i look at you. You are hella smart and watching you work on the job blows my mind every time. And that mouth you have on you, no one else ever calls me out on my shit like you. I know I have a sense of humour that people don’t always get. I know I can be a complete asshole and I don’t really have much going in my favour but  I’m not a bad man Tink I swear. I’ve been sweet on you since the day I met you. For some reason though you just seemed to dislike me from the start so it was easier to play up on being an asshole. It hurt less that way.” He trails off.

What. The. Fuck.

You stare at him. Dumbfounded. You’d been wrong the whole time?

“I remember most of last night Tink. We had been drinking and betting at one of the craps tables. You were on a winning streak and kept saying if you rolled a hard 8 you would do this and that. You were having the time of your life Tink. I’ve never seen you look so free. So Happy. Any time you’re around me, you’re always so closed off. And it kills me. But you were looking at me different last night. And i was so caught up in the game I bet if you rolled a hard 8 one more time that we should get married. And you took me up on that offer. I’ve never felt so fucking happy in my life. I know it was a stupid idea and that we were drunk, but you finally chose me and if anything happened to me after that I could die a happy man.”

He gently brings both his hands up to cup your face and leans in close, not enough for your lips to touch but close enough for him to whisper to you.

“I know this whole Vegas thing has been crazy and I’m not asking you to stay married to me. That would be unreasonable. All I’m asking is that you choose me again. That you give me a chance to show you how much I care about you. Please”

You stare into his eyes for a second, looking for a hint of deception. Finding none, you make your decision. You close the gap between you and feel Benny sigh in relief into the kiss.

I  guess there’s a fine line between love and hate.

[hermannsthumb]

Once Newt and Hermann finally move in together, Newt accidentally stumbles upon Hermann's vibrator. Newt gets hard immediately just imagining his beautiful sexy husband using it on himself. Newt wants to see that. Newt wants to do that. Newt wants to see Hermann fuck himself with his vibrator, and fuck Hermann with his vibrator. Hermann's all adorably flustered when Newt brings it up, and then he sees just how turned on Newt is by the idea.

well uh. this is (as you might expect) kind of a hard 18+/not safe for work

———————-

“Need help with that?” Newt says.

Hermann heaves a small cardboard box up to his bad hip with a groan; Hermann Gottlieb is written on the side in Sharpie, in Hermann’s neat, tidy hand. All of his boxes are marked similarly. It’s kind of cute, really, that he even bothers–half of his stuff is Newt’s now anyway, and vice-versa, and truthfully has been since the lab. Odds are it’s stuffed with their shared mugs or papers Newt co-authored. “No, no,” he says. “I can manage.”

The box doesn’t look particularly heavy, but Hermann’s been quite insistent on not leaving all the heavy lifting to Newt all day, and he’s wincing in a way that means he might’ve strained himself a bit too much. Newt shoots him a small smile and places a hand on the box. “Hey, look, why don’t you take a break?” he says. “We only have a few things left. It’ll take me, like, ten minutes. Go test out the new couch. Better yet, find us some fucking dinner. I’m starving.”

The previous renter left behind a drawer full of take-out menus (which Newt discovered as he attempted to unpack their mis-matched collection of utensils earlier), and Newt’s sure at least one of them will be promising. Hermann returns the smile gratefully and relinquishes his hold on the box. Newt was right–it’s not very heavy. Pretty light, in fact. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Hermann presses a kiss to the corner of Newt’s mouth. “Is there anything you’re particularly in the mood for?”

“Nah,” Newt says, and then catches Hermann’s sleeve with his free hand to reel him in for a much filthier kiss. “Something quick. I have plans.” Those plans involve spending plenty of time breaking in their nice big, new, soft bed, before the exhaustion of the day inevitably catches up to them. 

“I see,” Hermann says, and adds wryly, “Perhaps I ought to take a nap, too.”

Newt gives him another kiss for his troubles, enjoying the small sound Hermann makes into his mouth when he flicks his tongue against the seam of his lips. But when Newt pulls away, Hermann’s all business. “Do be careful with that,” he says, eyeing the box Newt took from him warily. “Its contents are–er–rather delicate.”

Mugs after all, then. Or maybe family photographs. “Kitchen?” Newt says, already headed down the hallway.

“Bedroom,” Hermann says. Oh. Newt does a one-eighty in the opposite direction. “Er–just leave it on the bureau. I’ll deal with it…later.”

Now, Newt’s no snoop, and he would certainly never go through Hermann’s possessions without permission–mutual trust, respecting boundaries, all that shit that healthy couples need–but accidents happen. He’s only trying to be helpful. He puts the box on the bureau, as Hermann instructed, but he must do it a little too hard, because its contents roll around and clatter and thud, and then–bewilderingly–begin to vibrate.

Newt shakes the box. It doesn’t stop.

He peels off the packing tape.

He’s not really sure what he expects to find in it besides the obvious: there are very few things a vibrating box deposited into a bedroom can contain, after all. Sure enough, when Newt opens the flaps, he finds himself staring down at a pretty high-end bottle of lubricant and the most expensive-looking vibrator in existence. A vibrator that’s currently buzzing. Newt flicks it off quickly, then–before he can help himself–picks it up.

Hermann has a vibrator. Hermann has a nice vibrator. It’s long, and curved, and made of a dark material that is fucking amazing to the touch. Another glance in the box reveals a small remote control, with settings in speed and rhythm all the way from one to ten, and a few bonus ones labelled with things like Pleasure Overload. 

Hermann uses a vibrator that has settings for things like Pleasure Overload.

“Hol-lee shit,” Newt whistles.

Newt can picture it now: Hermann, stripped bare, face down on his bed, writhing and gasping in pleasure as he crams the vibrator into himself over and over. Begging aloud for it to go faster. Coming, untouched, all over his pasty chest, his rumpled sheets, wailing into his pillow as he fucks himself through it, not even stopping–

“Newton?” Hermann calls.

Newt throws the vibrator back into the box and tapes it messily back shut. There’s nothing to be done about his raging boner, but maybe Hermann will be too distracted by the Thai or Italian or whatever takeout to notice it. He pokes his head out of the bedroom. “Yeah, babe?” he says, heart thudding. 

No Hermann in sight. Hermann’s voice comes from the living room when he speaks again. “What on Earth is keeping you?” he says. “I need to know what you want on your pizza.”

Hermann uses a vibrator. Hermann uses settings like Pleasure Overload.

“Mushrooms,” Newt croaks. 

“What’s that?”

Newt swallows thickly and steps into the living room. Hermann is sprawled out on the new couch, his cane settled against one of the armrests. Luckily, he’s too engrossed in the pizza menu to look up and catch sight of Newt’s little problem. “You ought to look this over,” he says in a hum. “They have some very interesting combinations. This one has shrimp, and onions–and this one is called the Athenian, with feta cheese, black olives–oh, I forgot, you don’t like olives. Too salty, anyway. Though I suppose we could order it without if we wanted to, but that doesn’t seem to quite fit the spirit, does it…”

It isn’t like Hermann doesn’t have sex. Hermann has sex plenty, Newt as his enthusiastic witness. Hermann fucks Newt. Newt fucks Hermann. Hermann sucks Newt’s dick, and jerks him off in the shower, and moans like a whore when Newt gets his tongue in him. But a vibrator’s different, isn’t it? A vibrator isn’t just sex, and it isn’t even just jerking off–it’s a very certain kind of jerking off. A certain kind of jerking off he hasn’t even let Newt be privy to. They haven’t even used dildos together.

It’s hard to imagine the Hermann sitting in front of him now, in a moth-eaten sweater vest and smudged librarian glasses on a chain, jamming a vibe up his ass on the reg.

“Are you even listening to me?” Hermann says.

“No,” Newt admits.

Hermann scowls, but he doesn’t push Newt away when Newt plops next to him on the sofa, nor when he starts pawing at the hem of his sweater. “Newton,” Hermann says, “I thought you wanted–dinner–” Newt mouths at his neck, and Hermann gasps. The menu slips to the floor. “Newton. We haven’t finished moving everything from–”

“I don’t give a shit,” Newt says.

He pulls Hermann’s hand down and presses it at the tented front of his jeans; Hermann’s eyebrows jump. “What has gotten into you?”

“Honey,” Newt mumbles against the skin of Hermann’s neck, “can I fuck you with your vibrator?”

Hermann’s whole body tenses. He rips his hand away in the middle of what had been a pretty nice feel-around of Newt’s junk. “My what?” he echoes shrilly.

“Your vibrator,” Newt says. Oh, right, he wasn’t supposed to know about that, was he? It’s hard to think straight when he’s horny. He grins sheepishly. “I kinda accidentally looked inside the box. You could use it on yourself instead, if you want, and I could watch.” Actually, that’s kinda hotter–no effort required for Newt, and Hermann would probably be so carried away he wouldn’t mind if Newt jerked off on his chest or something. Hot, hot, hot.

Hermann isn’t a very good sport about it. “That’s,” Hermann splutters, “that’s a very personal object, Newton! And expensive! I told you–if you hadn’t been careful–I don’t go snooping through your belongings, do I?”

“It was an accident,” Newt says, and then, in a snort, “Expensive. How expensive?”

“If you must know, I saved up a month of paychecks for it,” Hermann snaps. “And it was bloody worth it. Dealing with the you day in and day out–I was tense as anything. I would’ve cracked years ago without it, and then where would we be?”

Newt sits back against the opposite arm rest with a pout. “It was a waste of money, is what it was,” he says. “Why didn’t you just ask me to lend a little hand? Or, you know.” He leers at Hermann, parting his legs slightly. Truthfully, he is a little offended, even though they didn’t start their thing until a few months after their drift–Hermann would’ve rather dropped several hundred bucks on a piece of plastic when he had a living, breathing, and very available lab partner at the ready who would’ve done anything he wanted at the snap of his fingers. Give Newt a few cans of Red Bull, hide his Ritalin, Hermann wouldn’t have remembered his own name. It’s a crying fucking shame.

“Yes, but unlike you,” Hermann says, “it wasn’t a walking breeding ground for extraterrestrial bacteria.” He makes a face. “Who knows what I might’ve caught from you. Urgh.”

That one stings a little, even though Newt firmly believes that proper lab protocol is for losers, and he was completely justified in his lackadaisical approach to…well, everything. “Hey, dude, no fair,” he says, weakly. “My tests all came back clean!”

“This argument is ridiculous,” Hermann says. “We’re not using it, and that’s final.”

Twenty minutes later, Hermann is lying on their new bed with Newt’s fingers and a decent amount of that high-end lube up his ass. Hermann, despite his posturing, is a pushover when it comes to the promise of sex. “You’re going too slowly,” he complains, wriggling and pushing back against Newt’s hands.

“I’m going perfect,” Newt says. “It’s not my fault you’re impatient.” The lube feels awesome on his skin, kinda warm and tingly, and he can’t help but be a little disappointed he won’t get to feel it on his dick tonight. And that Hermann’s never broken it out before now. Hermann buys the lubricant they use in bulk, generic as hell and in these massive gallon-size jugs with a little soap-dispenser hand pump on top. Totally stupid. He can’t imagine what the Shatterdome delivery guy thought of them. “Hey, how come you don’t let us use the fancy stuff, dude?”

“You wouldn’t appreciate it,” Hermann says. “To the left, darling. Yes.” He sighs happily, melting against his mound of pillows, and gives his dick a few languid strokes. Newt withdraws his fingers.

“I think you’re good,” he declares. “What do you mean I wouldn’t appreciate it?”

Hermann gives him a look over his glasses. Newt understands his point, though he’s not ever going to admit it out loud; he gets a little carried away with how awesome everything is when he tops, sometimes, and Hermann gets carried away with it too. He’s not sure he’d even notice if they were using fancy lube. “Whatever,” he says, and hands over the vibe. “C’mon, I want to watch you already.”

“Impatient,” Hermann echoes with an eyeroll.

The vibe is switched on (on setting 5, to Newt’s disappointment, no pleasure overload yet) and after that, everything is all business. 

“Often, if I’m–er–feeling up to it, I start–” Hermann presses the end of the vibe against his nipple, and his whole body shudders. “Ah. Oh. That’s–what I’d do, if you’d been–” The other nipple; another shudder. “Particularly–particularly dreadful one day.”

“Would you think of me?” Newt says with a grin.

“Absolutely not,” Hermann snaps.

He trails the vibe down his abdomen, stopping in the messy patch of dark pubic hair just above his dick–which, Newt notices happily, is fully hard and already wet at the tip. “Mm, maybe sometimes. I would now. Only I haven’t used it since we…”

“Yeah?” Newt says. He watches Hermann move the vibe in little circles over the thatch of hair, just avoiding his dick each time. “That’s hot.” All if it’s hot: Hermann thinking of Newt while he masturbates, Hermann masturbating, Hermann admitting that Newt is just so awesome in bed he hasn’t had to masturbate in months.

Hermann grazes the vibe down one thigh, shivering this time. “Most of the time I’d just–”

He pushes half the vibrator into himself in one sharp motion; his dick gives an equally sharp jerk. Newt and Hermann, meanwhile, moan in unison. “Goddamn, Hermann,” Newt whines, eyes glued to Hermann’s stretched, red rim, the sleek little bit of machine it twitches around. “That’s really hot.”

But Hermann’s eyes are screwed up tight in concentration behind his lopsided glasses, and he pays Newt no mind as he grips the base of the vibe and continues to push it deeper, breath coming out in a series of short, needy puffs. “How’s it feel?” Newt says. “Tell me, I want–”

“Very–very good.” Hermann grips his dick, tugging on it as he works the vibe in and out of himself in perfect tandem. He’s going nice and slow. Slower than Newt would go. Newt’s not surprised–Hermann told him it was meant to be stress relief, after all. (Maybe that’s why Hermann was always a bit more cheerful the morning after they’d had a nasty fight in the lab.) “Newton,” he groans.

Newt can’t help it: he bends down and kisses him. Hermann’s just too fucking sexy for him not to. Hermann groans a little louder into his mouth. “Hermann, Hermann,” Newt pants, “dude, can I–”

“You can do whatever you bloody want,” Hermann says, his voice high and breathy. 

Newt takes that to heart. It’s a bit of an effort to fit his dick in alongside the vibe, but holy shit, is it worth it. Between the vibrations and Hermann clamping down impossibly tight around both Newt and the toy, he’s surprised he doesn’t pass out from just sitting there. Hermann, meanwhile–Hermann’s eyes roll back into his head, he writhes on the bed, and he grips wildly at Newt’s shoulders, and for a second Newt thinks Hermann might pass out too.

“Ah, ah–!”

“How’s’it feel?” Newt manages to croak out.

Hermann kisses him messily.

Once he’s sure he’s not about to blow it then and there, Newt reaches down and nudges the vibe in to the hilt. He knows at once when he hits Hermann’s prostate: Hermann’s whole body seizes, and shakes, and his mouth falls open in a wordless cry against Newt’s. After that, it’s over for both of them.

They lay in a sweaty, sticky heap for a little while, Hermann breathing like he’s just run a marathon, Newt already threatening to doze off like he always does after an awesome round of sex. The vibrator lays innocently between them. Finally Hermann prods at Newt’s shoulder and rouses him from his self-congratulatory afterglow. “You still have two boxes to carry in,” he says. 

“Dude,” Newt whines.

[msstarkerwhore]

Cheating/affair request Tony is unhappily married to pepper, one day pepper's little (slutty) little brother came to stay for a while. Tony cheats on pepper with peter.

Oof! How dare you give me such a good prompt nonnie 😂 - I pictured tony as 40-45 and Peter as around 18, but its never specified :) Also I decided on a no powers universe - there’s still Stark Industries and Stark tower, but no IronMan or Spiderman 

Word Count: 1600 - do I want to write more? YES! Did I have to restrain myself, and even then go a little overboard anyway? YES

Hope you enjoy :)

Tony knew Pepper had a younger half brother, one that she only knew because of obligatory shared Christmases and family events, ones that she hadn’t been to in a few years. However, when she said that her father reached out and asked to let Peter stay with them for a few months while he went through *another* divorce, Pepper said yes. She had gone through that once before with the same father and felt bad for the kid. She didn’t say much to Tony about it, which caused another problem with their relationship, but he got over it when the boy walked into the penthouse. Tony has to do a double-take from where he’s sitting on the couch, because this kid looks like someone he would have hired for the night back when he was a playboy. Back before Pepper. The boy meets his eyes, and Tony rushes to stand and greet him.

“You must be Peter,” he says smoothly, despite losing his breath just from looking at the boy. He holds his hand out for the boy to shake.

“Yes, Sir. It's a pleasure to be here. Thanks for letting me stay for a while!” He says, and he’s so sweet, but when he’s dressed in tiny little shorts and a crop top, it gives Tony thoughts he should not have.

“No worries, the more the merrier right?” Peter gives him a shy smile at that. “Pepper is finishing up some work in the office,” the like usual is unsaid, but still leaves a bad taste in Tony’s mouth. “It's getting late, did you want something in particular for dinner?”

“I don't mind, sir!”

“Call me Tony, please,” he rolls his eyes slightly, and reaches to grab one of Peter’s duffle bags, “Follow me, you can get settled into your room before dinner, clean up if you want to.” Tony wants to watch the boy clean up. Which, where did that thought come from? This boy shares DNA with his wife.

“Thanks, Tony,” and the boy follows him into the spare room, which before Peter arrived, was the room Tony was staying in to avoid Pepper. Tony wants to stay in this room even more now that there’s a pretty boy in it.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. If you have any questions, I’ll be in the lounge.”

Peter blushes again, and Tony leaves, breathing heavily outside of his closed door. Too inappropriate. No matter how unhappy Tony is, he is not going to cheat on Pepper with her little brother. Half-brother, his mind supplies happily. No, he won’t do it.

When Peter comes out from having a shower, Tony can't believe his eyes. He’s wearing an oversized shirt and the tiniest little shorts he can see when Peter leans up to stretch.

“Feel better? Pepper called and said she’s going to be a bit late, so it's just us for dinner tonight, sorry,” he says, but he isn’t really. Any time he gets to spend with this angel instead of his wife is way better.

“Oh, that’s okay!” They decide on Chinese, and after watching a movie (star wars - apparently the kid is a huge nerd which turns Tony on so much Tony finds really interesting), they sit on the couch and keep getting to know each other. He finds out that the boy wants to study at NYU so he’s thinking of visiting the campus, which Tony thinks is a great idea, and is already thinking of giving the boy a credit card so he can easily go anywhere in the city (and buy anything he wants with Tony’s money - he’s never wanted to be a sugar daddy, but he can see the appeal right now). They’re interrupted by the elevator opening, and Pepper walking out, typing quickly on her phone. Tony stands up and greets her, pretending to act happy. They decided that while the boy stays with them, it would be best to act civil and still together, just like they do for public appearances - he doesn’t need to stay with another couple in the midst of a divorce. He goes in for a kiss, and Pepper turns her head quickly to the side. Tony’s had enough awkward interactions to recover quickly and press a kiss to her cheek instead, unbeknownst to him that Peter is very smart indeed, and noticed the coldness straight away.

“How was work?” Tony asks. He tries to remember what he and Pepper talked about when they were still happy, and finds he can’t.

“Stressful, like normal,” he can almost hear the eye roll, and she pockets the phone, “Peter, how are you? I haven’t seen you in years. Look at you all grown up!” Peter rushes over to her and hugs her tightly, which Tony thinks is sweet. It reminds him of the dreams, of a child, of him and Pepper as parents. Maybe in another life, they would’ve had this. Except without all of Tony’s inappropriate feelings. He decides to go for a shower while Pepper catches up with Peter. 

If he fists his cock and moans loudly while the water cascades around him and drowns out any noise, well no one has to know.

—

Tony really should have known that the teenage boy would stay up late. He can’t sleep, like normal - He can’t stand sharing a room with Pepper and acting like everything is fine, and was on his way to the lab. He has to walk past Peter’s room to get to the lounge and into the elevator, and hears talking coming from his room. Although New York is only a few hours behind, it makes sense for Peter to be calling someone who still lived in Los Angeles, and okay yeah, maybe he’s bad for eavesdropping but he can’t help it.

“No, I’m telling you Ned, they are not a couple!” He hears the pause, and assumes the person on the other end is replying - he can’t hear them through the door. “No! They definitely don’t like each other, feel kinda bad that they have to pretend that they like each other for me.” _ “Yes, I know.” _ “I know its good, maybe I can convince Tony to sleep with me.” 

Peter starts to chuckle, but Tony isn’t laughing. In fact, he’s barely breathing. Oh god. 

“I’ve been acting pretty sweet - need Pepper to trust me enough to leave me alone with Tony.” There's giggling again, like little schoolboys and fuck, he’s reminded of how young Peter is. “I don’t know if they’re newly broken up or not, but like, surely I can entice him to sleep with me with my ass right?” _ “You’re my best friend man, you’re meant to encourage me to go for my dreams!” _  “Excuse me, my dreams definitely include Tony’s cock,” more giggles but Tony thinks he’s going to pass out, “How big do you think he is? I know we’ve had this conversation before but it's different when you see him in real life. He was in sweatpants tonight, and I was trying to get a look, but I couldn’t really make it out,” he seems sad, and Tony wants to burst in there and shove his cock in the boy’s, shit he thought he was so innocent, he’s probably not even a virgin, face. But he steadies himself and continues on his way. He will definitely not be getting any sleep tonight.

—

Tony is woken up by something wet and hot engulfing his hard dick. Shit, feels so good. Except, him and Pepper haven’t done anything like this in a long time. Maybe she’s getting possessive, jealous because Peter’s here now and he’s so much prettier then… His dick pulses when he thinks of Peter, but his eyes shoot open anyway. Because he only went to bed when Pepper left for work, and there's only one way his dick is feeling this good. He flicks the covers up to see Peter, shit his eyes roll back, sucking his dick like a well-trained slut. “Fuck Pete” he groans.

Peter pulls off his cock and grabs it with both hands. “Mr Stark,” he croaks out, “Never knew you would be this big. Dreamed about it, but never thought…” he’s distracted by going down on him again, trying to suck him to the bottom.

“Shit!” Tony bucks up into his mouth, he can’t help it, and keeps fucking the kid's throat until he groans out “I’m gonna cum kid, fuck Pete Pete-“ and the kid sucks harder and Tony’s spilling down his throat. His eyes roll back into his head and his elbows give out so he collapses onto the bed and he hasn’t cum that hard in years, shit, and he just did it in Peppers little brother’s mouth. His brain tries to tell him ‘half-brother’ again, but his cock only twitches valiantly in Peter’s mouth, who smirks and pulls off with a pop.

He’s leaning his head of Tony’s thigh now, looking up at him with admiration. Tony meets his eyes, groans, and then reaches for under his armpits. “Come up here kid.” and manhandles him until Peter’s dick is in his throat and he’s sitting on Tony’s face and all he can smell is Peter. It doesn't take long for Peter to come, so easily like a fucking teenager, because he is one, and seems embarrassed when Tony pulls him off and lays him down next to him, but Tony just groans and licks into his mouth.

“Why’d you act so innocent yesterday when you’re really just a little slut? Huh? Seducing me in the bed I share with my wife, with your sister.”

The boy moans, eyes still half-closed, “I don’t know Mr Stark, had to see if you would want me.”

“God kid, I could barely resist last night.”

“Wish you didn’t. Cleaned up in the shower like you told me too, I had three fingers in there hoping you would take me. Wanted your cock for dinner last night instead.”

Tony groans, his cock half-hard again, and a quick glance down shows Peter fully hard.

“I’ll make it up to you, baby.” and then he rolls over onto him, sealing their mouths in a messy, filthy kiss.

[livesincerely]

it’s so easy (too easy) to love you, ch. 2 (END)

Also on Ao3. Chapter 1 here.

00000

“Jack is such a dumbass.”

Davey blinks his way out of his stupor. Tony is staring towards where Jack disappeared out the front door, his expression a mix of exasperation, annoyance, and sheer bafflement.

“Like, I forget sometimes, but he’s actually just a complete fucking moron, isn’t he?” Tony says. “I can’t believe he’s what counts as responsible adult supervision.”

Charlie heaves a massive sigh, shoving his math textbook to the side. “Yeah, that wasn’t his best moment.”

“Not his best moment?” Tony asks, incredulous. “How many years has it been at this point? Seven? Eight?”

“Eight,” Charlie gloomily confirms, shaking his head.

“Eight years we’ve been tryin’ to convince him to pull his head outta his ass and make a move and this is the shit he pulls? Really? He’s lucky that Davey’s basically a sure thing because Jesus Christ—“

Davey’s never been so confused in his entire life. Tony gears up into a full-on rant, splotches of red creeping further and further across his face with each word; Charlie clearly commiserates, chiming in with his own grievances every now and then.

And Davey’s listening, he’s doing his best to follow along, but he must not be understanding correctly. He can’t be. Because it sounds like Tony is implying that Jack…

“—I mean, he’s been in love with him for ages, so he musta had a plan, right? Some sorta idea, even if he’s too chicken shit to do anything with it? Well, I guess somethin’s better than nothin,’ but come on, you’d think he could do better than plantin’ one on Davey by accident—“

Davey’s heart does a series of pirouettes around his chest. He croaks out, “Wait, what?”

“I said, Jack shoulda done better than kissing you, then takin’ off—“

“No, I mean—“ Davey pauses, swallowing around a sudden dryness in his throat. “Go back to the part where you said Jack’s in love with me.”

“Uh, okay, what about it?” Tony says, brow furrowed—like he doesn’t understand what Davey’s getting at.

Davey stares at him. “Jack isn’t in love with me.”

Tony and Charlie exchange a loaded glance.

“Yes, he is, Davey,” Charlie says cautiously. Davey thinks he’d be more irritated with the gentle handling if it weren’t for the fact that his world is tilting off its axis.

“Jack isn’t in love with me,” Davey repeats. The words feel numb as they leave his lips, but he says them anyway. To think otherwise seems unfathomable. “Jack isn’t— Jack can’t be in love with me. I’d know if he was.”

“Yeah, you’d think so, wouldn’t ya?” Tony mutters.

“No, he is,” Charlie insists. “He’s, like, ridiculously in love with you.”

Davey doesn’t know where to even begin processing that statement. He leans back heavily in his chair and a small, distant part of his brain is grateful that he’s already sitting down, as this revelation would have sent him to the floor. The larger part of his brain is screaming.

“What makes you so sure?” he eventually asks, once he finds the words.

Tony throws him a look. “I have functional fucking eyes.”

“We’re sure, Davey,” Charlie cuts in patiently. “We are absolutely, definitely sure.”

The possibility rattles around Davey’s mind, then starts to take a more solid form. Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me.

“He never said anything,” Davey says.

“Yeah, no shit. If it was up to him he woulda taken that one to his grave,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “But you don’t really need him to say anything—you can just tell.”

“I can’t tell!” Davey disagrees, the tone of his voice edging towards shrill.

“But that’s just you,” Charlie says, like that explanation makes any kind of sense. “Trust us, it’s really obvious to everyone else. Like, painfully obvious.”

“You do realize that the two of you have basically been married for years, right?” Tony asks, raising his eyebrows. “You’re, like, disgustingly domestic and you flirt with each other all the time. Like, all the time.”

Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me, Jack’s in love with me.

“Please get together already,” Charlie pleads. “I can’t take it anymore, and obviously Jack can’t be trusted to make good decisions—” Here he and Tony exchange a commiserating look; Davey can only imagine what they’ve been privy to when he isn't around. “—so it’s gonna hafta be you.”

“What do I do?” Davey asks, completely overwhelmed. “I mean, he ran away! Should I go after him?”

“What, are you gonna chase him down in the rain?” Tony says with a snort. “Just talk to him when he gets back.”

“Give him a chance to calm down,” Charlie advises. “And, uh, maybe you should calm down a bit too—you kinda look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Well, that was kind of a lot,” Davey retorts, but the words have no heat behind them.

“Besides, it’s not like Jack can hide from you forever,” Tony adds with a shrug. “You know where he sleeps.”

Davey can’t decided if he loves or hates how reassuring that is.

00000

The streams of sunlight that cut through the blinds wake Davey up the next morning. A glance at the clock tells him that it’s nearly nine; he’s surprised he slept through Charlie and Tony leaving for school, but after the emotional upheaval of last night, they must have made a point not to wake him.

He lays there for a long time, blinking up at the ceiling and watching the overhead fan spin in lazy circles. Jack had sent him a single text last night, warning him that his phone was about to die and he had to stay late at work; Davey had tried to wait up for him, but finally fell asleep a little after three am. There’s a flicker of worry at the thought of Jack—wondering if he was making up excuses to avoid him, wondering what to say when he sees him next—but the anxiety of last night has transformed into something hazy and distant.

Davey’s been in love with Jack for years; he’d long since resigned himself to living with that love quietly. The only thing that’s changed is there’s a possibility that Jack loves him back, so really, what’s there to worry about?

Eventually, he throws back the covers and hauls himself upright. He pulls a sweatshirt on over his pajamas, disregarding the way it makes his already tousled hair even more of a disaster, and shuffles slowly down the hall.

The growl of his stomach reminds him that it’s well past his usual breakfast time. Davey wanders into the kitchen and begins pulling supplies out of the cabinets by route, and before he knows it, he’s got the beginnings of a breakfast going.

Everything takes on a different aspect in the light of this new day—details that Davey’s always known, but has never been fully conscious of. The skillet he grabs is a hefty cast iron monstrosity that belonged to his Bubbie—it lives at Jack’s place because Davey’s dorm’s kitchen is the size of a shoebox and hasn’t been renovated in decades, and also because Davey’s never been in the habit of cooking for one.

The coffee maker is new: he and Jack had to get a new one last month after their old one finally crapped out. They’d spent the better part of an hour at the local Bed, Bath & Beyond, bickering back and forth about which one to get until a salesperson finally took pity on them and pointed them towards a sturdy model solidly in the middle of their price range. Davey grabs his favorite mug—a pale blue one with a chip on the handle from where Tony dropped it one time—and fills it with the first pour of a fresh brew. The coffee, of course, is from his favorite place around the corner, a blend that Jack always claims is too expensive, but keeps on buying for him.

It’s scattered all around him, the countless ways that his and Jack’s lives are intertwined. Davey almost can’t believe that it’s taken him this long to notice, but maybe that’s just it: this has been his normal for ages, so why would he notice it?

Davey hums softly to himself as he works, the quiet punctuated only by the buzz of the refrigerator and the hiss of the coffee maker, which is why it’s so surprising to glance up and notice Jack standing in the doorway, his expression a little pinched around the edges and still dressed in his clothes from yesterday, though noticeably rumpled.

“Jack!” Davey says, startled. “I didn’t hear you come in. When did you get— wait, did you spend the night at the office?”

Jack looks at him funny, like he was expecting Davey to say something else. “I missed the last subway and I didn't have money for a cab.”

“Maybe you should start keeping some things at work,” Davey says, frowning slightly. “Like, a pillow and a toothbrush and stuff like that. You’ve been having a lot of night shifts recently and that couch in your break room looks like it’s older than I am, so I know it can’t be comfortable to sleep on—“

“Are you making breakfast?” Jack interrupts, one hand braced against the doorframe. There’s something pointed about the question: accusing and disbelieving and conflicted all at the same time.

Davey looks at the assortment of ingredients gathered around him—milk, flour, butter, eggs, blueberries—then down at the bowl of pancake batter he’s in the middle of whisking. “Uh… yes?”

Jack barks out a laugh, but it’s tinged with a hint of hysteria. “I thought you’d be— But instead you’re— Why?”

“I always make breakfast on Fridays,” Davey says, because it’s true. He beckons Jack forward with a nod of his head. “Here, come help me with this, you’re better at flipping the pancakes than I am.”

Jack scrubs a hand over his mouth, then seems to rally himself.

“Okay,” he mutters, clearly not intending for Davey to hear him. “Okay… so it’s like that. Okay.” Then louder he says—with an incredibly lackluster attempt at his usual grin that wouldn’t fool anyone, let alone Davey—“Yeah, sure Dave, I gotcha.”

Davey lifts himself up to sit on the counter next to the stove while Jack steps up to the cooktop. He watches silently as Jack pours the batter into the skillet, nudging at the edges with his spatula until they start to firm up. It should be an easy, simple moment together—something they’ve done countless times before. Instead, the space between them is thick with unspoken tension.

Davey considers his options. He takes in the stiff line of Jack’s shoulders and remembers the look on Jack’s face yesterday—soft affection burnt away by panic. He waits for just the right moment, then says, “So, Tony and Charlie seem to think that you’re in love with me.”

The reaction is immediate. Jack jerks in surprise—a full-body flinch—and the pan slips out of his hands. It hits the burner with a clattering bang and the half-cooked batter goes flying halfway across the kitchen, then hits the floor with a splat.

“Yeah,” Davey comments mildly, taking in the mess with no small measure of satisfaction. “That’s about how I felt too.”

Jack makes a strangled noise: like he’s going to deny it, like he thinks he has to deny it, like it’s never occurred to him to do otherwise. And sure, Davey had never considered broaching the topic either, but Davey’s not the one that kissed and ran.

“No, don’t even start with that,” Davey begins before Jack can say anything. “You’re in love with me, I know you’re in love with me. The boys finally told me last night—apparently it’s obvious, but I never would’ve guessed if they hadn’t said something. And if you hadn’t kissed me.”

He gestures at the remnants of breakfast. “That’s for leaving me to freak out last night, by the way. Also, Tony told me to tell you that you’re the World’s Biggest Dumbass, and I can’t say I disagree with him.”

Jack’s eyes have gone very wide. An assortment of emotions flit across his face, but none remain long enough for Davey to identify them.

“Sorry about that,” Jack eventually says. The words come out slow and a little jagged, like he’s having trouble keeping his voice steady. “I shouldn’t have done that—I didn’t mean to kiss ya, it just kinda happened—but I understand if you’re mad at me or if ya need me to—“

“Oh my god,” Davey says, shaking his head even as a surge of affection rushes through him, “you really are a dumbass.” He jumps down off the counter and holds out a hand. “Jackie, come here.”

Jack stumbles forward, visibly unsure. Davey can’t imagine what he’s thinking is about to happen, can’t imagine how Jack can stand here with him in their kitchen in their home and not know that they’re in this together, just like they always are.

Davey threads their fingers together, tugging Jack those last few steps so that they’re standing chest to chest. He brings his other hand up to Jack’s face, dragging his fingers over his forehead until the furrow in Jack’s brow relaxes, until his expression begins to brighten with tentative hope, then down around the curve of his jaw to tilt Jack’s head that much closer to his own.

Jack moves easily, immediately, when Davey touches him—only the slight hitch in his breath indicates that this is unexplored territory—and it’s so simple for Davey to just lean up and kiss him.

Soft. Sweet. It feels brand new. It feels like they’ve done this hundreds of times.

“Just in case that wasn’t clear enough,” Davey murmurs as they part, impossibly happy and feeling like his heart might burst with it. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you.”

Jack’s answering smile seems to light him up from the inside out. “Oh yeah? Well, word on the street is, I’m in love with you too.”

[thetriggeredhappy]

Okay so that last one with scout losing snipes broke my heart into a zillion pieces so... What if sniper never died? Maybe he was badly hurt and is hiding somewhere... -🐑

i really like how you people keep doing this thing where you’re like “hey what if you ripped my whole heart out and stomped on it” then i do because you literally asked and you're all “owie :( ouch owie :( can i have a band-aid now” like it’s funny every time

(warnings for mention of firearms and discussion of severe life-threatening injury)

-

His contract expired.

Somewhere along the line—wonder when?—apparently his work had gotten ‘sloppy’. He’d gotten ‘erratic’. So six years after what all happened, when his contract was up to be renewed, Miss Pauling gently urged him to let it expire and to just head home.

It wasn’t like he had a good reason not to. He didn’t particularly get along with any of the team (anymore). A few of them had come and gone—Pyro apparently got reassigned somewhere and was gone overnight, and at some point Demo decided to leave mercenary work altogether to get a real, proper, legally sound job somewhere. Both of them had been replaced.

Their new Sniper wasn’t as polite as—

She was even more of a recluse, although she got along alright with Heavy sometimes. She was also Russian, which probably helped. And Scout felt a little bad about how much he hated her. She couldn’t help what happened. It wasn’t her fault. She was just picking up the baton on this job. Someone had to do it.

Mostly he just ended up avoiding her. And everyone else.

Exactly once he’d tried to take up dating again. Someone had gotten particularly sweet when he was out at a bar, and they’d flirted for a little while, then they’d suggested they both head somewhere else, and that they had a car if he wanted to—

He quietly stammered his way through a refusal. The vague guilt and unease reached a head the second he thought about getting in a car.

He’d needed to sell his car and get a motorcycle instead, at some point. The idea of getting in a vehicle had become an irrational fear, after he’d seen a picture of the wreckage, smelled the acrid smoke on the salvaged belongings.

That was one reason he took a plane home and had all his stuff shipped separately.

That meant that it was a few days of wearing only his old clothes when he got back, waiting for the rest to show up. And those were a little hard to squeeze into, he’d really been a lanky fuck before he became a mercenary.

The only thing he had at home that fit right was the suit, left there hanging in his closet to get eaten by moths.

The suit and the boxes of things were all shoved into the far side of his closet, and they stayed that way. He felt like maybe he wouldn’t ever be ready to look at them again, and in the meantime, they just made him feel guilty.

For the first two months after he got off work, he didn’t really do much. He stayed home, stayed out of trouble. Put his things away, sorted through what he wanted to keep and what he could just get rid of, either selling it or scrapping it if it was just kinda garbage. He tried to catch up with his brothers a little bit, the ones left in Boston still, but he didn’t get very far, feeling weird and disconnected.

After two months, he finally felt bad about Ma constantly tip-toeing around the topic of employment or hobbies (not that he needed to worry about those—he had enough money saved to not worry about much of anything until he was like, eighty), and he started trying to look for work, or maybe just something to keep him busy. For a month or so he looked into becoming a bartender, but the hours were a little weird. He thought about trying to get into doing baseball on some professional level, but he was getting a little old to be going into it for the first time since his late teens and early twenties. He very briefly looked into doing the cartoons for the newspaper—he was pretty good at art by then—before he found out they would require some amount of actual schooling for it.

So he ended up latching onto that, and started heading to the library five or six days a week to spend a few hours there studying to get his GED. His Ma supported him wholeheartedly on it, and got around to telling him, about a month into his new routine, that she was really glad he found something to do, something he wanted, that he’d just seemed so miserable, before, waiting around for something to happen.

Maybe she was right. He was waiting around for something to happen. He got the speech from Miss P—“ten years following your departure from the team, you and anyone nearby you will be kept in the system, and if there’s anyone who tries to bring you harm we’ll catch them before they can, and here’s a phone number to call if anything suspicious happens that you want looked into”. To him, that meant “someone might try and kill you”. So he did stay strapped when he went places, looked over his shoulder, kept an eye on doors and other potential exits.

So when he got back from the library one day and saw a car parked out in front of the house, at least he was prepared.

He thought fast. Kept driving past the house and parked a little ways down the block—he could drive the bike back later, it didn’t matter. He unlocked the door as quietly as he could, pushed it open with his shoulder, pistol drawn and cocked, falling back into old habits maybe a little too easily considering he hadn’t been a mercenary for almost a year and a half.

Voices from the living room—not from the TV, and not Ma on the phone, because he could also hear the TV, and there was a commercial playing that he recognized, one that didn’t involve Ma and a second, much deeper voice.

He steadied his hands, rolled his shoulders, and stepped into the room, leveling his gun directly at the head of the person within.

First he took stock of the fact that Ma was indeed there, sitting on the couch, looking relatively relaxed and entirely unharmed, if surprised to see him there and also with a gun. Then he took stock of the room, saw that there was only one other person here, the one he was pointing a gun at, the one who had slowly raised his hands up to either side of his head. Potentially unarmed, it was hard to tell with his baggy jacket—

Wait a minute.

Scout frowned, squinted, looking over his face a little more closely as realization started creeping into view.

He tried to imagine, for a second. What exactly would seven years do to a guy?

Maybe he’d end up with his hair growing out a lot longer, from close-cut to hanging down around his ears. Maybe with a beard, relatively clean but still a bit messy in some ways. Maybe he’d get new clothes, his eyes would sink a little bit more, would start to crinkle at the corners. More freckles, more spots maybe. Aged, scarred. Maybe he’d be wearing glasses. Maybe, despite all of that, he wouldn’t look all that different at all.

“...’llo, Bilby,” Sniper said quietly, hopefully, voice rough, and maybe he meant to say more, but he didn’t get the chance, because Scout lowered his gun, marched three steps forward, and slapped him clear across the face.

It was a hefty slap. The smack noise was practically ringing, and his hand stung like a bitch, and he’d hit him hard enough to knock his glasses off to clatter across the floor, and his head snapped back at the force of it, and the noise he made was satisfyingly pained.

“Right. Probably deserve that,” he croaked, and maybe he meant to say more, but he didn’t get the chance, because Scout tucked back away his gun, grabbed Sniper by the sides of his head, and kissed him square on the mouth.

It was a hard kiss, hard enough that he got Sniper to do that thing where he made an undignified little squeaky noise of surprise, caught off guard by it. He only melted forward for a second or two before Scout was pulling back away again.

“You fucking piece of shit son of a bitch cunt I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Scout practically snarled.

“Jeremy,” his Ma admonished from the couch.

“He’s right,” Sniper said weakly.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Scout insisted, just as fiercely. “What the fuck happened to you?!”

“There was a—“ Sniper started explaining, but Scout cut him off.

“Car bomb between 2:45 and 2:50 PM twenty minutes away from the nearest city limits,” he listed off, “I know that, but what—seven fucking years, Snipes!”

“I know,” Sniper said, voice flimsy. “First two years were recovery and physical therapy, next four were trying to get legal papers and apply for a visa to get back into the States again.”

“That bad?” Scout asked, still angry but faltering.

“Needed reconstructive surgery on... most of the left side of my body. Lost some teeth,” he said, and tugged his lip back on one side to show him where three teeth, the three behind the canines, were a slightly different color, then dropped his hand again. “Plenty of scars. Might be, er... missing a lot of those freckles you liked. And... voice comes and goes sometimes. But, Australian miracle medicine, I’m much better than I was.”

“You grew your hair out,” Scout noted next, carding his hands up through it.

Sniper laughed. “Lost half my teeth and needed a new coat of paint on the whole left of me, and you’re worried about my hair?” he chided.

“It’s just new, thought you hated it getting long,” Scout shrugged.

“Y’know,” his Ma said, sounding all too amused by the proceedings, approaching with Sniper’s glasses and handing them over to him, “you’re lucky you showed me those pictures all those years ago, Jeremy. Otherwise, strange guy shows up at our door askin’ about your work name and all, I would’a started blasting.”

She nodded meaningfully towards the table beside the couch, and Scout saw that indeed she had a gun there, taken from its place where he kept it stashed by the door as a “just in case”.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said, smiling a little.

“No problem, sweetheart,” she said, and patted him on the arm. She glanced between him and Sniper and scooped up the firearm from the table. “I’ll just go put this away,” she said, and left the two of them alone.

“Would’ve been easier to track you down if you’d given me more to go on than ‘southern Boston’,” Sniper said, eyebrows rising. “And if I didn’t need to be so careful about how I asked.”

“Huh?”

Sniper’s expression fell a little, and he raised his hand to fix his hair where Scout had mussed it up. “Look, you know the rules. Employer keeps an eye out for us for years after we leave. That means if I asked through my usual methods of tracking people down, that’d send up flashing red lights somewhere. So I... needed to take extra precautions.”

“Miss P told me they took care of the guys that tried to kill you,” Scout said, frowning.

“I went off radar for almost two years without official leave,” Sniper murmured. “And it wasn’t on purpose, but I don’t think they’d believe that. They might try and kill me if they find out I’m still alive. I’m a loose end.”

Scout’s heart dropped.

“Only cut it close once,” Sniper said, gaze falling. “But that was enough for Miss Pauling to get in contact with me, to try to talk to me. I... I told her I’m done, I’m out of mercenary work, and... just as a precaution I have to do a few things now. Check in on the regular. I wear this,” he said, pushing his sleeve up to show off a bulky device on his wrist, bigger than a watch. “It’s tracker. Makes sure I’m only in the places I say I’m going. Had to get a visa by myself, get transportation by myself, and it cut my protection time in half so now I’ve had to hire on someone to guard my parents and keep them safe, but now she’ll keep it secret that I’m alive. They’ll stop looking for me in two years, and if by then I’m still playing by the rules, I’m free. Back to normal life.”

“She said it was okay that you be here?” Scout asked. “In the same city as me? She wasn’t worried about that?”

“Told her why I was coming here,” Sniper shrugged.

“And what’d you tell her?” Scout asked softly.

They looked at each other.

“I... didn’t want to assume,” Sniper said quietly, carefully, looking over his face. “That you’d... I, I understand if you’ve moved on. Seven years, declared dead—“

“I didn’t,” Scout said just as quietly.

Sniper gave a breathless little laugh, cupping his face. “Bilby, I told you to,” he tried.

“Well, so-rry,” Scout said next, throat a little tight, hands on his hips, “Mister—Mister Legally Dead. Sorry I didn’t jump into speed dating the second I got the news. What, you—you wanted me to have kids by now?”

“Wouldn’t blame you,” Sniper shrugged, and kissed him, and pulled back away. “But... I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Well I’m glad you’re glad,” Scout mumbled, and kissed him, and pulled back away. “So...?”

Sniper was smiling, wide and unashamed. “So one day at a time,” he said quietly. “We can talk about it more in a bit. First, mind if I use your phone?”

“Why?”

“Meant to call in to check with Pauling in—“ He glanced around to find the clock in the room. “—three minutes or so. And... I ought to tell her I’ve made progress. And... that we’re sorting out details. Might call you over to talk to her too.”

“Yeah, go ahead. Hallway by the kitchen,” Scout directed, and kissed him again, and again, and again, until Sniper urged him down and off before he was late calling in.

He found himself in the kitchen, looking out the window. Ma was unloading the dishwasher and humming. In the hallway, the sound of talking, long pauses, more talking.

“He seems nice,” Ma said quietly, and shot Scout a smile, and Scout smiled too.

“He was—is,” he corrected quickly, flinching a little bit.

“How you feelin’?” Ma asked.

Scout looked down, crossed his arms over himself. “Y’know how in movies there’s that bit people do, all “feels too good to be true” or whatever?”

“Uh huh.”

“Kinda the opposite. It feels... like him being gone wasn’t real. And now stuff is real again.”

“Like you woke up?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, exactly,” Scout confirmed.

“I could tell,” Ma admitted, and stretched to reach the cabinet to put things away once they were good and dry. “Been a zombie since you got back, seems like maybe you’ve been a zombie for a while.”

Scout moved over to help, taking the dishes that belonged in the higher shelves and starting to put those away. “Sheesh, was I seriously that obvious?”

“It was pretty bad.”

“...Is that, like... normal? Or... healthy?” Scout asked carefully.

Ma laughed. “Sweetheart, how should I know?”

“But you know, like, everything.”

Ma pinched him on the cheek at the compliment and he squawked a complaint, and she laughed.

“I don’t know if it’s healthy,” she finally replied. “And... maybe it’s not about whether it’s healthy. Maybe... it’s just one step. And, hey, it worked out, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and smiled. “Yeah, it did.”

“Bilby,” Sniper called, leaning in to look through the door to the kitchen, phone cord visibly all stretched out. “Wants to talk to you.”

Miss Pauling ran through a brief check to make sure he was indeed Scout, then asked a series of questions. Whether he felt safe with being around Sniper on the regular. Whether Sniper would be staying with him on the regular, and the fact that instead of extending security to cover him, she’d need to just go more lax on Scout’s security to make sure Sniper wasn’t found out.

He was fine with that. All of that.

After the phone call, after a few more questions, he dragged Sniper upstairs and flung open the door to his closet, digging through the dusty old boxes with purpose. Then he was pulling out an item and shoving it directly into Sniper’s chest.

Sniper put his hat back on, and Scout couldn’t help but yank him down into another kiss at the wave of nostalgia and familiarity as Sniper nudged his glasses up and looked at him and asked if it was on crooked, the same way he’d said a hundred times before, a hundred years ago.

And, hopefully, he’d say it a billion more times, for a billion more years. Scout would make sure of it.

[braggwater]

Mavin being stuck in a safehouse overnight? maybe some cuddles and caring for wounds? (I love your blog btw)

OOPS this ended up being super long, but I hope you like it! (thank you!!!) “Go, go, go, Gavin, come on!” Michael yells. He pops off another few rounds into the guys that keep appearing from around the corner. “I can’t hold them off forever!” “I’m going as fast as I can, just keep them back!” Gavin keeps fiddling with the safe until it finally cracks open. “Aha!” he exclaims as he starts shoving product and money into their bag. “Come on, come on,” Michael mutters, taking out another thug. There’s at least one more hiding behind the door, but Michael isn’t stupid enough to rush him, not with the rips already in his jacket and jeans from the others.An arm pops out and fires blindly into the room. Michael lets out a loud “Fuck!” when a lucky shot grazes his right arm. It falls uselessly to his side, gun clattering to the ground. Hearing it hit the floor, the gangster takes his chance to move fully around the corner. Michael doesn’t have a chance to move, a chance to hide, but he doesn’t have to. As soon as the man is in full view, there’s a bullet between his eyes. Michael whips around to see Gavin with a full duffel bag on his shoulder, an empty safe behind him, and a golden gun still smoking in his hand.“You okay, boi?” Gavin asks, concern painted on his face. He moves to fuss at Michael’s bleeding arm, but Michael pulls away. “I’ll be fine. Let’s get out of here,” he says. He hisses as he bends to pick up his gun, slinging it over his left shoulder. They move quietly through the building, down the stairs and back out to the street. However, right as they hit the lobby, an alarm goes off. Michael groans. “Fucking fantastic.” Another half a dozen guys come down the stairs from the opposite side of the room. Gavin manages to take out two before his gun clicks, empty, and the pair breaks into a run, slamming out the door and shoving past a few civilians to get to Michael’s Kuruma across the street. The guys don’t stop shooting as Michael dashes around to the passenger side, unable to drive reliably with his arm. Gavin hops in the driver’s seat, tossing the duffel in the back and firing up the engine. As he tears down the street, three trucks pull out of nearby alleys, gunshots littering Michael’s car. From in front of them, police sirens blare. Gavin dodges and weaves through the chaos, doing his best to avoid hitting the approaching cop cars. Michael stays low in his seat to avoid a shot to the head, grateful that no bullets are leaving their car. Not sticking an automatic weapon out the window will lower the police suspicion. It does not, however, get the trucks off their tail. Gavin guns it, pushing the Kuruma to its limits in an attempt to lose the trucks. Michael scans the terrain for a familiar building.They manage to lose the trucks over the hill just as he spots it. “Pull in here,” he instructs. Gavin pulls into the parking lot of the run down mechanic garage, and Michael hits a button in the car that opens it. They pull in, garage door closing behind them just as they hear the trucks speed past. In the second spot of the garage is a junky little sedan. Michael fumbles to get out of the car, struggling to open the door with his still-bleeding arm. “Hey, wait, I got it.” Gavin walks around to open the door for him, freeing Michael. “Is that what we’re taking?” he asks, gesturing to the sedan. Michael nods. “Figure we’ll spend the night somewhere out of the city since they followed us all the way out here. “What about your arm?” Michael pokes at the graze wound, groaning as his fingers brush the torn flesh. His hand comes away wet with hot, fresh blood. He wipes it on his jeans, shrugging Gavin off. “I’ll be okay. Let’s just get to the safe house.” Gavin backs off reluctantly but grabs the keys to the second car anyway. As he’s starting it up, Michael keeps prodding at his wound. As far as he can tell, there aren’t any bullet fragments in it, just a bunch of torn skin and muscle. He’s definitely had worse, he’s pretty sure. He digs in a little deeper, and the world spins around him. His gun falls to the ground again. “Gav-” he gets out weakly, and then the world goes dark. ~~~ The ringing in his ears is overwhelming, dying down slowly before a voice breaks through.“Stay alive, stay alive, don’t you dare die on me, Michael Jones.” Gavin sounds muffled, distant, but the worry is evident. His body aches and his eyes are heavy. The rumble of the sedan deepens the slight ache in the back of his head, and he groans softly when a particularly hard bump in the road jostles him, the pain in his arm flaring sharply. “Sorry, sorry,” Gavin says just before he registers what’s happened. “Michael!” Stay awake, we’re almost to the house.” Michael groans again, and once more as he pries open his eyes to the dying daylight. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Gavin glancing at him worriedly between keeping his eyes on the mountain road. He fights his headache and wooziness to stay awake for the last few minutes of the drive. It’s hard, but he does it. Gavin kills the engine and gets out, moving around the car to help Michael again. He leans heavily on Gavin as they slowly walk to the front door of the shitty little safe house. Gavin leads him to the couch, easing him down onto it. Michael blinks a few times as his vision finally comes fully into focus. Gavin is rustling around in the kitchen, likely searching for first aid supplies. His shirt is torn and stained with blood, baring his tan midriff. Michael’s neck is stiff as he tries to catch a glimpse of his arm where the bullet hit him, which is now wrapped in matching light blue fabric. “Gavin?” he croaks weakly. There’s a small clatter and a soft “dammit” from the kitchen. “Just a second.” The sink runs for a minute before Gavin rejoins Michael on the couch. He sets down a bowl and cloth and some bandages then holds a glass of water to Michael’s lips. It’s the most refreshing thing he’s had in his life, and he gulps it down without coming up for air. Gavin sets the empty glass aside. When he reaches for Michael’s arm, Michael lets him take it. His hands are gentle as he unties the strip of shirt tightly wound around Michael’s bicep, tossing it aside as well. Michael does his best to help with shrugging off his jacket, gritting his teeth and trying not to scream through the pain. It’s searing when Gavin’s fingers even come near the wound, but it has to be tended to properly - or at least as properly as they can do in a safe house. Michael jerks away at the first press of a damp cloth. “Sit still,” Gavin orders, cleaning the dried blood. He gives Michael a stern look when he jerks again. “I’m trying,” he whines. Gavin keeps passing over the crust on his skin without further comment. “You’re not the one who got shot.” “I know, love.” He sets the bloody towel in the bowl of water and picks up a fresh one, patting Michael’s arm dry. “Looks like it’s mostly stopped bleeding now.” It’s tender and intimate as Gavin applies some butterfly bandages, wrapping the gauze bandaging around his bicep. He fastens it before running his fingers through reddish curls. Michael leans gently into it and a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders. “You scared me to damn death, Michael.” Michael returns the hug, wrapping his left arm around Gavin. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Instead, he shifts closer, draping his legs over Gavin’s lap so Gavin is almost cradling him. “M’not going anywhere, you know that, right?” “Yeah.” “I love you, Gavin.” “I love you too, boi.” They sit there, wrapped in each other and the comfortable silence until Gavin groans. “I left the bag at the garage,” Gavin says. Michael sighs before huffing out a laugh. “Of course you did.” He kisses Gavin’s cheek. “It’s not going anywhere, either.”

[camillemontespan]

ten years from now [AU. drake walker x camille montespan] [part one: sun cream and peaches]

I’ve missed writing a Drake x Camille focused series! I was hit with inspiration and had to get this down. While I was in Japan, I spent an hour each morning writing this while having coffee and demolishing chocolate bread. As a result, this got quite long. As this chapter is setting things up, I guess it has to be long but I still apologise. 

On a personal note, I realised while writing this that it has actually been ten years since I broke up with my previous boyfriend so I met one summer and really fell for. Maybe it was on my mind subconsciously? We ended with no closure. I actually ended up meeting him again three years after - let’s say it was a weird experience. What happens in this chapter is inspired by that.

ALSO, @burnsoslow​ has a series coming out soon that is similar in terms of Drake & MC meeting again. We have messaged each other recently, panicking that it looks like we’re copying each other, but I must stress that we are absolutely not. It happens when everyone gets similar ideas. Burnsy, I’m excited to read your new series! 

Taggin’ those who like Cake: @ibldw-main​ @moonlightgem7​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @pug-bitch​ @emichelle​ @loveellamae​ @mskaneko​ @sirbeepsalot​ @katedrakeohd​ @dcbbw​ @argylemnwrites​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​ @simplymissjulia​ @kingliam2019​ @saivilo​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @gardeningourmet​  @walkerswhiskeygirl​  @drakesensworld​ @pedudley​ 

Let me know if you want removed from the tag list or if you want to be added :)

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

Their feet were tangled together as they lay side by side on the jetty. The sun was setting low in the sky, casting a golden glow over their skin. The scent of sun cream and peaches bloomed in the warm air.

‘Drake, stop tickling me!’ Camille squealed, giggling and snorting as Drake’s fingers tickled her ribs.

'No way, Montespan,’ Drake teased. 'Not while you’re snorting like that!’

Camille snorted again, making the two of them descend into giggles.

They had been best friends since they were toddlers. But lately, they had gotten closer, more intimate as the summer began to fade, making way for fall. Maybe it was the thought that soon they would be separated that had made Drake and Camille progress their friendship to one that involved kissing and holding hands. They were no longer just best friends. They had defined their relationship.

Camille was due to start Brown in September while Drake was going to Berkley. They had a whole future ahead of them, one filled with opportunity and hope. Even though they were excited, they had promised that they would Skype every day and visit each other whenever money and time allowed. This would be the first time in their 15 year friendship that they would be apart.

Right now, they were keen to soak up the last days of summer with each other. That was all they needed.

Drake rolled over to suspend his body above hers. He was starting to build muscle now after spending more time outdoors at his summer job and he looked more self assured and confident - Camille was used to seeing him retreat into himself so to see this change in him made her feel so happy. The way he was looking at her now, with a twinkle in his eye and a confident smirk, was enough to make her body react in the most exciting way.

They hadn’t gone the whole way yet. In fact, they hadn’t actually discussed it but Camille was hopeful. She had never been with a boy before. Spending every day with Drake, watching their friendship change to something more, had been eye opening for her. She wanted him and only him. It was scary and terrifying and bewildering and delicious. 

Camille reached up to graze his jaw with her hand. Drake smiled down at her and kissed her softly, making her lips tingle. She decided to take the plunge. Her hand slowly reached down to unbuckle his belt. Drake drew back and regarded her with a curious expression.

'Someone feeling feisty?’ he asked her.

Camille raised an eyebrow. 'Maybe.’

Drake chuckled. He let out a hiss as he felt her hand touch him.

'Are you sure?’ he croaked.

Drake had never been with a girl in this way.  He had never had much luck with girls in the past. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest now as he realised that if Camille said yes, then that was it.

He hoped she would say yes.

Camille nodded. 'I want to do this with you,’ she whispered. 'Nobody else.’

Drake’s breath hitched. He studied her face that was so beautiful. Her brown eyes flecked with gold. Her high cheekbones and mouth with its gorgeous cupids bow. Drake knew she was going to be a gorgeous woman when she was older.

Drake leaned down to kiss her again before gently pulling away to look down at her. 'I..’

He stopped, taking a breath. Camille smiled. 'Yes?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Drake turned pink but soldiered on. 'I love you,’ he finally told her, his voice shaking. 'Always have, always will.’

Camille turned pink too. 'I love you too, Drake Walker,’ she murmured.

They kissed again until Camille broke away from him.

'Promise me that we’ll still be together ten years from now,’ she said, her voice steady. 'No matter what happens at college or in the future, promise me that we’ll be together in ten years.’

Drake laughed softly. 'Are you proposing marriage to me, Montespan?’

Camille squeezed his hand. 'Drake..’ she whispered. 'Be serious.’

Drake leaned down to kiss her neck, making her gasp. His hands gripped her hips tightly.

'I promise,’ he murmured in her ear. 'Ten years from now, we’ll still be together.’

Drake meant it.

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

ten years later

'There’s a good girl. That’s it..’ Drake murmured, coaxing Lone Star to leave the stable. The apple he held in his hand acted as a way to get the horse to do his bidding. Drake managed to successfully get the horse outside so she could exercise out of the confines of the stable. Smiling, he let Lone Star munch on the apple.

He had been working since 6am. The sun was high in the sky now and his body was shiny with sweat. This was his life. Up at dawn to manage the ranch then at 9am, he would fix breakfast for him and his mom before getting back to work.

Speaking of..

Drake rushed back to the house. He found his mother sat at the kitchen table reading the paper. 'Hey mom,’ he greeted her, pressing a quick kiss on the top of her head.

Bianca smiled up at her son. 'Morning, honey. Coffee is ready for you.’

Drake grinned and poured himself a cup of coffee. 'So, bacon and eggs for breakfast?’ he asked.

'I was thinking pancakes,’ Bianca mused, turning the page of the newspaper. 'And fresh OJ.’

Drake rolled his eyes. 'You’re so demanding.’

'Can it,’ Bianca retorted. 'I’m your mother, I’m allowed to be demanding.’

She gave Drake a wink to show she was teasing. Drake smiled and sat down opposite her to drink his coffee. He looked at her paper to see she was studying the marriage announcements.

He swallowed. Drake knew Bianca had been hoping for her only son to get married and have lots of babies. All she wanted was for him to be with the girl of his dreams. But Drake hadn’t found her yet. Or maybe he had, he had just let her go without realising.

Bianca cleared her throat and pushed the newspaper towards him. Well, it was the Applewood Gazette, not exactly a broadsheet. It was a paper he didn’t read but one his mother adored because it meant she could have all the county gossip without looking like she was a gossip herself.

He noticed that she was pointing to an announcement. 'Baby..’ she whispered.

Drake frowned and took the paper. His eyes scanned the words.

'Applewood’s former resident, Camille Gabrielle Montespan, would like to announce her upcoming marriage to Mr Liam Anthony Rhys from New York. The happy couple will be visiting Applewood on 5th June to invite Camille’s friends to the wedding, which is confirmed to be being held in New York at the beautiful Metropolitan Museum of Art in three months time. Camille looks forward to seeing everyone again.’

Drake pushed down the bitter taste in his throat. Bianca’s eyes glistened. She had always loved Camille. She had really hoped that Drake and Camille would have gone the distance.

'How nice for her,’ Bianca said tightly. 

Drake sipped his coffee, refusing to comment.

'Are you going to see her?’ Bianca asked, her voice slightly hopeful. 'Maybe you could invite her round for dinner? We could all catch up -’

'No, mom,’ Drake interrupted. 'We’re not friends anymore. I barely know her.’

'But-’

Drake sighed. 'I said no. Now, pancakes and OJ?’

Bianca took the paper from him and carefully folded it up. 'Sounds fabulous,’ she said, clearly disappointed.

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

Camille rushed through the foyer of her work, cursing herself for sleeping in. She hadn’t meant to. Usually, she was the first one in the office but not today. Drinks the night before with Olivia and Hana had escalated from 'a glass of wine’ to 'shots and dancing on the bar at 2am! WOOO!’

Camille had decided that she was a fucking idiot.

Camille got to her desk and switched on her computer, hoping her boss hadn’t seen that she had arrived 20 minutes late.

'Morning bitch.’

Camille looked up to see Olivia standing over her with two cups of coffee in her hands. She was looking smug.

'Here,’ Olivia said, handing her a cup. 'Made it specially for you.’

Camille took the coffee gratefully and sipped it. She eyed Olivia.

'You look fresh,’ Camille said. 'How is that fair?’

Olivia smirked. 'I don’t get hangovers. Hangovers are for weaklings.’

A small voice came from opposite Camille’s desk. 'I am not a weakling..’

Hana had her head in her hands. Camille held in laughter when she saw that Hana was also wearing huge sunglasses to hide the evidence.

'Hana Lee, you are wearing sunglasses at work,’ Olivia said. 'You may as well just run through the office screaming that you got off with the bartender last night.’

'I DID NOT GET OFF WITH THAT BARTENDER!’ Hana hissed.

Camille giggled. 'You did, Hana. We saw you.’

Hana groaned. 'I’m trying to forget my bad decision making. Stop making me remember.’

Olivia rolled her eyes and was about to speak to Camille about the 10am meeting but was interrupted by one of the admin assistants who was holding a huge bouquet of red roses.

'Um, Camille..’ the assistant said, clearly nervous to be standing next to Olivia. 'These came for you this morning.’

Camille’s eyes widened as she took the flowers. 'Oh my..’

'They’re beautiful!’ Hana cried.

'Are they from lover boy?’ Olivia asked.

Camille blushed as she read the little note attached.

'I know you’ll be feeling rough this morning. Thinking of you always and forever. Li x’

Olivia dry heaved. 'I swear, he finds any excuse to give you sickening declarations of love.’

Camille rolled her eyes and held the flowers close to her chest. Hana was up from her desk and studying the flowers with a mournful expression on her face.

'How does it feel to be loved that much?’ she asked sadly.

Camille smiled. 'It’s really nice, Hana.’

Olivia sighed. 'And Liam does it again. I swear he’s like a robot that’s come from the factory of perfect fiancé’s.’

'Are you guys still going to Texas?’ Hana asked. 'Is Liam excited?’

'Yeah, he is!’ Camille told them. 'I’ll introduce him to my grandma and if I see Bianca -’

'Who’s Bianca?’ Olivia asked, wrinkling her nose.

'My ex boyfriend’s mom.’

Hana and Olivia stared at Camille. 'Ex boyfriend?’ Hana repeated. 'Um.. you still talk to your ex?’

'No,’ Camille replied. 'I’ve not seen him in.. God, ten years. He won’t be there. He was going to California for college and planned to never go back to the ranch -’

'The ranch..’ Olivia said, unimpressed. 'You dated a fucking cowboy? Really?’

'He was eighteen!’ Camille protested. 'Not a cowboy!’

'What was his name?’ Hana asked.

'Drake,’ Camille said. She hadn’t said his name in ten years and the way her voice cracked as she did so betrayed her. 'Drake Walker.’

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

'Are you gonna talk to her?’ Savannah asked Drake. She was balancing her toddler, Bartie, on her hip while making herself a cup of coffee.

'Talk to who?’ Drake asked, gesturing for Savannah to pass Bartie to him so that his sister could get on with coffee making. Savannah placed her son in Drake’s lap. Bartie shouted with glee. 'Dwaaake!’

'It’s Drake,’ Drake corrected his nephew. 'Drake. Not that hard.’

Savannah cleared her throat. 'Actually it’s Uncle Drake. And you didn’t answer my question. Are you going to talk to Camille when you see her?’

Drake sighed. His arms held Bartie close. 'If I see her, I’ll say hi,’ he told her. 'But I guess she’s gonna be really busy with her fiancé. Besides, we’ve not spoken in years, we might not even talk.’

Savannah shook her head. 'Drake, you were best friends for years. You dated. How could you not talk?’

'Because we’ve got nothing in common anymore,’ Drake replied bluntly, wishing she would just stop talking. 'We’re not friends.’

'You loved her,’ Savannah reminded him.

'Yeah well, look how that ended up,’ Drake bit back. 'She’s getting married, Sav. No point in even looking back, it’s done. Now can we please stop talking about Camille?’

Savannah stopped talking after that. Thank god. Drake didn’t want to be reminded of how things were left between him and Camille. It brought back too much to the surface.

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

Camille got home after a long day. All she wanted right now was her bed and Netflix. Letting herself into the apartment she shared with Liam, she hung up her trench coat and padded through to the living room.

She stopped short.

Rose petals decorated the floor, making a pathway across the living room to the balcony outside.

'Uhh.. Liam?’ she called out.

'I’m outside!’

Camille wandered through the living room, following the roses. She could hear Miles Davis playing from speakers and she could smell tomatoes.

Liam was setting the balcony table. Candles were lit up on the balcony and the view of the New York skyline glittered in the distance.

Liam turned to give her a wide smile and held out his hands for her to take. 'Darling!’

Camille smiled and kissed him. 'Hey you. What’s all this?’

Liam grinned. 'What? I can’t surprise my fiancée with her favourite dinner?’

'You’ve used rose petals,’ Camille said. 'This is next level romance. Oh and thank you for the flowers. The girls at work were jealous.’

Liam chuckled and handed her a glass of wine. 'Do they want me to send them flowers?’ he asked. 'Because I could, you know. Complete with a romantic card.’

Camille giggled and wrapped her arms around him. 'No, you’re mine,’ she told him. 'I like getting flowers from you.’

Liam pressed a kiss on the tip of her nose. 'I’ll give you flowers every week until death do us part.’

'How morbid,’ Camille teased.

'Well we are getting married,’ Liam said. 'I plan to spoil you for as long as I live.’

They sat down to feast on spaghetti alla puttanesca. They talked about their day before discussion turned to their upcoming trip to Texas.

'So, are you excited to see your grandma?’ Liam asked.

Camille nodded,sipping her wine. 'Of course. To be honest, bit nervous. I mean, grandma hasn’t met you yet. We’ll, I guess over Skype she has but that’s not really the same..’

Liam and Camille had been dating for a year. They had been too busy with their jobs to visit Texas and Camille’s grandma was too frail to travel to New York herself.

Liam gave Camille a sparkling smile. 'Well, I won you over right?’ he asked. 'I’ll just have to use my charms on Gisele!’

Camille smiled. 'I’m sure she’ll love you.’

Liam grinned and helped himself to more wine. Camille pushed down the unsettling feeling in her stomach. She was excited to see her grandma again - but she was nervous to see the Walkers. Applewood was a small place and it was a guarantee that she would bump into Bianca. She wouldn’t see Drake. He had always told her that as soon as he could, he would leave the ranch and live in a city far away from the stifling environment that was Applewood.

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

Liam helped Camille lug her giant suitcase down the street towards the taxi that was taking them to JFK. 'We’re only visiting for two weeks,’ he huffed, panting from the exertion.

'True but Applewood is a really social place,’ Camille told him. 'There’s always an event happening. We’re a close knit community and we always get together for events.’

Liam smiled. 'Like what?’

'Like.. Apple bobbing. The summer fairground. The Beaumont Bash.’

Liam’s eyes widened. 'What’s a Beaumont Bash?’

Camille grinned. 'Bertrand and Maxwell Beaumont host their annual summer Bash at their house. It’s huge. They go all out for it. Think fireworks, champagne bottles in bathtubs, DJs..’

'Are they friends of yours?’

Camille nodded. She opened the taxi door and settled inside. 'Maxwell has been my friend since high school,’ she told him. 'He’s amazing. Really kind and so fun. You’ll like him. Bertrand is the older brother. He’s a bit more serious but when he’s partying, he changes. Like, he becomes more camp and extravagant.’ She eyed Liam. 'Yup, Bertrand is definitely going to flirt with you.’

Liam chuckled and gave her a wink. 'Well I am dashingly handsome.’

Camille giggled and snuggled into him as the taxi took them across the bridge.

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

The town of Applewood was a small place twenty miles outside of Austin, Texas. The summers were long, too long for high school students who dreamed of moving away as soon as they could. 

Drake and Camille had always talked about their dreams. Sat on Camille's grandma's porch with a pitcher of ice cold lemonade between them, they would look out at the fields beyond and make plans. They would go to college and end up in New York. Because they were best friends, of course their plans included each other. There was no other alternative. 

Camille couldn't help but be reminded of Drake Walker as the cab drove her and Liam from the airport towards the rural roads that led to Applewood. If Liam thought she seemed quiet on the drive, he didn't say anything. He assumed she was just nervous to see her friends again - and she was. But being back in Texas just reminded her of everything she had left behind. 

The cab passed the burger place where she and Drake used to go every Saturday for lunch. They would eat burgers and use the drinks straws to throw spit balls at each other. 

The cab passed the park where she and Drake would walk his golden retriever, Clover. Camille had adored that loveable dog. She wondered if Clover was still around. Not that she would see her, Camille reminded herself. 

Camille had to keep reminding herself to stop thinking about Drake. He wouldn't be here and even if he was, it wasn't like they would have anything to say to each other. In fact, Camille knew that she had absolutely nothing to say to him. 

The cab rolled up the dirt road leading to Camille's grandmother's house. Camille kept her eyes ahead so she could avoid seeing the sign for Walker Ranch. Camille and Drake had been neighbours too. They had a history here, one Camille wished she didn't have to face. 

Gisele was waiting for them on the front porch as Camille had texted her when they arrived at the airport to keep her updated of their movements. Camille smiled when she saw her grandmother. Gisele was dressed elegantly, as per usual, in a white trouser suit and comfortable sandals. She always wanted to look her best. 

'Mon petit chou!' Gisele squealed, rushing down the steps towards the cab. Camille and Liam clambered out to greet her. The taxi driver deposited their cases and exclaimed when Liam tipped him generously.

Gisele held Camille tightly before stepping back to look at Liam. She raised an eyebrow. 'He is very tall.' 

Liam laughed. 'That I am, Miss Montespan. It’s so good to meet you in person at last.’

Gisele positively melted at Liam's politeness. 'You're also very handsome..' she purred. 

'Grandma!' Camille scolded her, laughing. 'Stop flirting with my fiancé!' 

Gisele waved her hand and took Liam's arm, guiding him to the house. Camille rolled her eyes. 'Uh, help with the suitcases?' she called out. 

'In a moment!' Gisele called back. 'I need to show Liam my flowers!' she looked up at Liam. 'I've been growing my own roses. They're beautiful if I do say so myself. Magnifique!’

Liam looked back at Camille and gave her a shrug. He and Gisele disappeared into the house, leaving Camille outside to deal with the luggage. 

'Camille Montespan, is that you?!' 

Camille turned to see Bianca Walker walking towards her with a huge smile on her face. Camille swallowed and fixed a grin on her face. 

'Mrs Walker!' 

Bianca held out her arms to pull Camille in for a hug before standing back to study her. 'Well, aren't you a beauty?' she whispered, cupping Camille's cheek. Camille blushed. 

'So I hear you're engaged,' Bianca said. 'Where is he?' 

Camille blinked. 'Grandma has kidnapped him.. But, uh, how did you know?' 

Bianca chuckled. 'The announcement in the paper, silly!' 

Camille was very confused. Announcement in the paper.. Oh no. Her grandmother must have done it without consulting her. Masking her realisation, Camille squeezed Bianca's hands. 'Of course!' she cried. 'The announcement. So excited.'

Bianca studied Camille for a long moment. 'You have no clue what I'm talking about, do you?' 

Camille sighed. 'No. I take it grandma got carried away and wanted to make it public knowledge? What did it say?' 

'I'll show you!' Bianca said, taking her hand to pull her up the road. 'You can tell me all about New York while we walk to the ranch -' 

'I really should be getting the cases inside,' Camille tried to say. But Bianca ignored her, chatting away about how she had never been to New York and that her late husband, Jackson, had always wanted to go. 

The ranch hadn't changed. The oak tree that Camille had fallen out of when she was six years old was still standing strong. She remembered Drake had tried to fix her arm while crying his eyes out, panicking that they would get in trouble from Jackson. They hadn’t. Instead, Jackson had driven them to the hospital and promised Camille ice cream when she was better. 

Bianca pushed Camille inside. The scent of familiarity cloaked Camille's senses. Bianca's favourite paintings were hung up and family photos decorated the sideboard. Camille avoided stealing a glance at them. 

'You must be thirsty,' Bianca said. 'Lemonade? OJ? Water?' 

'I'm okay -' 

'Baby, drink something,' Bianca replied sternly. Defeated, Camille asked for water. Bianca had her sit down at the wooden kitchen table and continued to talk without pausing for breath. 

'Ah, here's the announcement!' 

Bianca passed Camille the newspaper for her to read. Camille cringed. She hated this sort of thing. She didn't like attention. And it looked like she was bragging, which was even worse. 

'What's he like then?' Bianca asked. 

'Liam is amazing,' Camille told her. 'He's smart, loving, kind. He works on Wall Street.' 

'Very nice,' Bianca murmured. Camille didn't realise that she was comparing Liam to her son. 

Camille continued to talk, every word like word vomit. When she was nervous, she over compensated by talking too much. 

'He's 28 and he's so nice to everyone, really warm and genuine. Such a generous man -' 

'Mom, I'm back!' 

Camille stopped talking instantly when she heard a male voice call out from the hallway. Oh god. Oh dear god. 

Bianca jumped up and rushed to the kitchen door. 'Drake, guess who's here!' 

Camille winced, waiting for impact. She could hear heavy footfall cross the floor and stop at the door. 

'Camille?' 

Camille looked up to see an older but familiar face staring at her in disbelief. 

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

Drake stared at Camille who was sitting in his kitchen like she always had when she had been his friend. His heart began to hammer inside his chest and his throat constricted. His mouth felt dry. Very dry. He needed whiskey. 

'Hey Drake..' Camille murmured, her eyes wide as she stared at him. 'How are you?' 

She looked beautiful. She had always been beautiful but now, she was a woman who had grown into her features and wore them like she was a portrait. Her dark hair tumbled to her shoulders in waves and she was wearing a silk peach blazer on top of a white top and cigarette trousers.

Camille looked elegant and sophisticated. She looked like a New Yorker from the Upper East Side. Drake knew because he had visited New York three years ago. He had wandered around the Upper East Side before realising that it wasn’t the place for him. 

'I'm good, you?' Drake replied, his voice tight. 

Bianca took this moment to leave them alone. Drake ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. 

'I'm good,' Camille said softly. 

This was so awkward. 

'I, uh, read you're getting married,' Drake mumbled. 'Congratulations.' 

Camille turned red. 'Thank you. Are you.. Seeing anyone?' 

Drake shook his head. 'Nah.' 

Another silence. Drake wished he could put a fucking gun to his head and end it all now. 

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

Camille's eyes roamed over Drake. He was a man now. Of course, she knew he would have been but seeing him like this, older and looking more like Jackson Walker now that he had aged.. 

His body was solid. His shoulders had broadened and Camille could see the muscles through his denim shirt. He was a little taller now - six foot four it looked like - and the sheer masculinity he conveyed was enough to make her speechless. 

But his eyes were the same. Brown that shone green in the light. And his hair was still tousled and hid some of his left eye, almost deliberately as if he wanted to hide. He still stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Drake the boy was still there, deep down. 

'Have you moved back to Texas then or just visiting your mom?' Camille asked. 

'I live here,' Drake said. 'I went to college for a semester but uh.. it didn't work out.'

He shifted on his feet. Clearly, he wasn't going to go into detail. But then, why should he? It wasn't her business. 

Camille swallowed. 'I should get going,' she said, her voice cracking. 

Drake nodded. A hint of relief passed over his features. Camille stood up, aware that Drake was watching her like a hawk. He looked like he was seeing a ghost. Perhaps he was. 

They walked together to the front door. 'Good to see you,' Drake said unconvincingly. 'How long are you here for?' 

'Two weeks,' Camille replied. 'So I might see you around.' 

'Yeah, you could introduce me to your fiance,' Drake suggested, instantly regretting his words. 

Stop talking, Walker. As if you want to meet the prick. 

Camille nodded, her lips set in a tight line. 'Yeah, you will have to meet him. I bet you guys will become best friends by the end,' she said, trying to be light. She instantly regretted her words. 

They are not going to be friends. They couldn't be more different. Get away from the door and go home. 

'I'm sure Maxwell will be organising something for all of us to get together again,' Camille said. 'We can catch up.' 

Stop fucking talking. Word vomit. 

'Yeah, sounds good Montespan,' Drake replied, keeping his voice neutral. 

Why the fuck are you calling her by her last name? Do you want to look like a chump? 

Camille smiled weakly. 'Okay. Well, see you soon, I guess.' 

Drake raised a hand and watched her turn to leave the porch. He continued to watch her as she walked briskly back down the road to her grandma's before he shut the door with a click. 

He needed whiskey. 

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

Camille rubbed her wet eyes fiercely as she strode back to her grandma's house. Why was she getting upset? It had been ten years. A decade. Why was she crying over something that she never really had? 

She was tired from the flight, that was all. She would make her excuses and have a quick nap and she would then feel better for dinner and catch ups with Gisele. 

Camille could curse Drake Walker. Even after ten years, he still managed to make her feel things. Even after everything he had put her through, he still made her wish things had been different. Even if they weren’t together, she wished they could be friends. 

But she couldn't think like that. She was with Liam now. The love of her life. Her fiancé. 

Get a grip Camille. You can't cry over something you never really had in the first place. 

*************************** 

Camille managed to steal half an hour to nap. When she awoke, she didn't feel much different. 

Maybe she was just hungry. 

Gisele had made jambalaya which had been Camille's favourite dish growing up. Pure comfort food. It beat chicken soup in Camille’s unbiased opinion.  As Liam exclaimed over how delicious it was and Gisele giggled and blushed, Camille drank wine.  Lots of wine.

'So, have you heard that Maxwell is hosting your welcome home brunch tomorrow morning?' Gisele asked, breaking into Camille's thoughts. 

Camille blinked in surprise. 'I didn't know that. That's nice of him. Who's all going? Kiara? I need to catch up with her-'

'Yes, Kiara and Penelope will be there,' Gisele confirmed. 'And Madeleine -' 

'Ugh, spare me,' Camille interrupted. Liam's eyes widened at her sudden change of tone. 

'Who's Madeleine?' he asked. 

'A bitch from school who made mine and Drake's lives hell,' Camille said without thinking. 

Liam frowned. 'And who is Drake?' 

Camille sipped her wine, taking a deliberate moment to gather herself. 'We used to be friends,' she told him. 'But we're not anymore.' 

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

That night, Drake sloped down to the jetty by the lake and got drunk on whiskey. He needed to dull his mind and get rid of thoughts about Camille. 

As the stars twinkled down on the water, Drake tossed back the amber liquid, grateful when the reflections of the stars began to shift and blur. 

Seeing her today had only confirmed that they were way past the point of return. Sure, he had never expected to find her sitting in his kitchen, but he had known she would be visiting with her fiancé soon. He knew he had been bound to see her. 

He just didn't expect it to be so.. awkward. And different. Stilted. But looking at her today, he had felt his chest tighten, his heart beat a little more rapidly and his breath catch. She made him nervous and unsure, two things Camille had never made him feel before. 

God she was beautiful. Stunning, actually. 

Was he mourning the loss of their friendship? Absolutely. Was he regretting the way he handled things ten years ago? Of course he was. 

Drake tossed back more whiskey and closed his eyes. His mind flashed back to that incredible night on this jetty where he and Camille had laid themselves bare to the other. Drake had lost his virginity to Camille that night. He had told her he loved her. Everything had changed in that one moment. 

He wished he hadn't broken her heart. If Drake had one regret in life, it was ruining what they had. He couldn't help but wish that he had done it differently. Maybe they would have stayed together. Maybe he would have been her fiancé instead. 

Stop it, Walker, he scolded himself. Don't think like that. 

Drake spent the rest of the night drinking until he dragged himself back to the house to bed. He threw himself on his bed, fully clothed, and slipped into a dreamless sleep. 

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

'Honey, get up! We've got places to be and people to see!' Bianca called up the stairs. Drake groaned and pulled the pillow over his head. 

He had a headache and his mouth felt like something had died in it. 

Drake could curse himself. He hadn't been hungover for a long time. 

' DRAKE!' Bianca shouted. 

' Alright ma, I'm gettin' up! ' Drake shouted back. 

'Don't give me cheek!' Bianca replied, her voice rising.

'I'm not giving you - fine, whatever, I can't be fucked..' Drake muttered, rolling out of bed. He took a moment to steady himself before dragging his body out the door towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

The reflection in the mirror showed how shit he looked. His eyes were red rimmed and his skin grey. What. A. Catch. 

He heard Bianca come upstairs, whistling to herself. 'Now, Gisele and Maxwell have very kindly invited us to brunch this morning!' Bianca said, stopping at the bathroom door to talk to him. 'It's for Camille. A welcome home brunch! I'm going to get ready, wanna help me pick a fancy dress? I don't have many but I have this gorgeous floral one I've been saving for a special occasion.. We got to look our best, I mean it's the Beaumont’s for crying out loud.. '

Drake closed his eyes as his mother kept talking. She really had no pause button. Bianca loved to talk - she was loud, opinionated and the human equivalent of a bulldozer. 

'Mom, I'm not going.. ' Drake muttered. 

Bianca stopped talking. For once.

'What do you mean you're not going?' she asked, her eyes wide. 'Drake, you have to go. It would be rude if you didn't. I know you and Camille aren't exactly friends anymore but you grew up together, you could at least wish her well and congratulate her. And Maxwell is your friend -' 

'He's not,' Drake cut in. 'He is more Camille's friend than mine.' 

Bianca sighed. 'Nonetheless, you should go. You can give her your well wishes and meet her fiancé. I've heard the Beaumonts throw incredible brunches, I'm curious to see what it's like. Please, baby.'

Drake sighed, knowing he was defeated. His mother never went to these kinds of events. She had always wondered what they were like and now she had an invitation, extended to her by Gisele who had been friendly with Bianca years ago. He couldn't burst Bianca's bubble. 

'Fine. What do I have to wear?' 

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

He had to wear a suit. The suit Bianca forced him to wear had been relegated to the back of his closet. It was slightly too small for him now, considering the last time he wore it was ten years ago at prom. Drake reluctantly wore the suit, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

Savannah had jumped out of bed as soon as she heard there was an event happening. She had always been on the fringes of society at school, wishing she was part of the popular girls. She had idolised Madeleine, despite the fact that Madeleine often bullied her brother. Savannah had been insufferable as a teenager. She and Drake had become ships in the night at one point and only now were they close again. 

'I wonder what Camille's fiancé is like!' Savannah crowed as she dressed Bartie up in a knitted sweater and trousers. ''Bet he's really rich if he works on Wall Street..' 

Drake ignored her to help Bianca get ready. 

Bianca wore the floral dress paired with nude kitten heels. She teased her hair into a chignon and deliberated over which handbag to use. Drake could tell she was nervous. 

'You look great, mom,' he told her softly. 'Like a movie star.' 

Bianca blushed and took Drake's arm. 'Let's go show them what the Walkers are made of.' 

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

Camille and Liam stood at the door of Beaumont Manor with Maxwell and Gisele, waiting for guests to arrive. Maxwell was dressed flamboyantly, wearing a blue glittery suit with blue glitter sparkling in his dark hair. 

He had been so excited to see Camille again. They had been close in school, having sat together in English class. Maxwell had had dreams of writing a novel and had often neglected his actual studies to write more of his book, much to the annoyance of his teacher. 

When he had met Liam, he had clapped his hands in excitement and pulled him in for a hug. Liam had laughed in surprise and complimented his suit. Maxwell had preened. 

As their first guests trickled in, Liam and Camille shook their hands and thanked them for coming along. Many people had told Camille that she looked beautiful, stunning, ravishing, chic, all of the adjectives that made her want to throw up. They had all clasped Liam's hand as they greeted him, their eyes widening as they studied his good looks. 

Liam looked and smelled expensive. That was the one word everyone who knew him described him as. His suit was always pressed, his hair immaculately quaffed and he wore expensive shoes that were always scrubbed and polished. 

And he was a gentleman. Kind, polite and generous. He welcomed everyone with a smile and a 'pleased to meet you', confidence shining from him. 

'Ah, the Walkers!' Gisele cried, breaking into Camille's thoughts. She looked down the steps and saw with shock that Bianca, Drake and Savannah - now older and with a baby boy on her hip - were climbing up the steps to greet them. 

'Bee, you look stunning!' Gisele cried, reaching out to take Bianca's hands. Her eyes slid to Savannah. 'And Savvy! It's been so long! Who is this handsome boy?' 

'This is Bartie,' Savannah replied, smiling. 

Camille could feel eyes on her. Drake's eyes. She gathered the courage to look at him now.

He was wearing a suit that was too small for him, she noted with a pang in her heart. She remembered Drake used to hate dressing up. His hair was mussed up and his eyes were red rimmed. Drinking? Lack of sleep? 

'Liam, this is Drake Walker,' Camille finally said, her voice steady, looking up at her fiance. 'We were friends at school.' 

She could see Savannah narrow her eyes. Ignoring her, Camille smiled up at Liam who was grinning at Drake. 

'Pleasure to meet you,' Liam said, holding out his hand to shake Drake's. Drake blinked and held out his hand - the sleeve of his suit jacket rode up his arm, exposing his wrist, showing to everyone how ill fitting the outfit was. 

'Likewise,' Drake mumbled. 'Uh, congratulations.'

'We'll chat as soon as we're inside,' Liam told him easily. 'I'm sure you've got lots of stories about my fiancée that will embarrass her!' 

Drake cleared his throat. 'Oh I got stories, alright.'

Camille felt her cheeks burn. Drake's eyes flashed to her. She took a chance to look at him; his eyes betrayed no indication of his thoughts.

'Montespan,' he said, bowing his head. She looked away as he took his mother's arm and lead her and Savannah into the Manor. 

Liam squeezed Camille’s hand. ‘Well, he seems nice!’