#like jesus sorry it bothers you that there's a little bit of residue on the sink basin but you can bring it up a bit nicer

[supercantaloupe]

feeling like shit tonight

[tma-more-like-suffering]

How to Successfully Attempt Murder

starring, Elias Bouchard as the murder victim.

A/N: So even though this technically isn’t a reader insert, its still in second person because- uh- because I’m currently stuck writing in second person? Like, okay, I’m having fun, alright? Lemme be.

But hey. For everyone who has repressed feelings of anger towards one Jonah Magnus, this one’s for you.

-

"Hey Mel- oh. Are you... going somewhere?"

Melanie startles, almost dropping the cup of coffee she has clutched in one hand. You stop just shy of the kitchenette doorway, feeling awkward for have accidentally snuck up on her.

"Jesus- I didn't hear you coming at all."

"Yeah... sorry. What're you doing?"

"I'm-" her expression goes through a series of stages, each somehow more interpretive than the last, "I- I went out to get coffee, that's all. And I thought I'd bring some for Elias..."

You squint at her, suspicious, "Elias?"

You don't know how, but Melanie's expression remains completely smooth beside the slight twitch of her eye, "Yes."

"Riiiight." You know that she can probably tell you don’t believe her. Still, you gesture at the cup, "You're going up to deliver that to him, then?"

Melanie glances down at the beverage, "Ah- yeah." She pauses, seemingly thoughtful, before her eyes settle on you again, "D'you wanna come up with me?"

Frankly, Melanie is acting very suspiciously right now. You know for a fact that this isn't just her 'having' gotten Elias a coffee while she was out. But you don't quite know what she's actually up to, and you have a feeling that something is about to happen.

"Alright, I'll come with."

-

You're standing beside the door to Elias's office, falling just outside his line of sight. Melanie told you to wait out here as she delivered her 'coffee' but left the door ajar just so that the conversation inside can be easily overheard.

"-I assume you don't believe me, then? That murdering me would also kill you?"

You can only imagine what kind of look must be on Melanie's face, right about now, "I-I-I don't know what you're..."

Despite the topic of conversation, Elias sounds unnervingly calm. You're not even the one who’s tried to kill him and yet you still feel a twinge of annoyance, "Coffee is not as good for disguising tastes as you might think. And it's even worse at disguising texture. Dissolved pills always leave such a- hm- chalky residue."

Melanie bristles, "Look, Elias, I never-"

"I assume this is your first time attempting to poison someone." You silently shake your head. Poor Melanie, Elias doesn't even sound fazed, talking about an attempt on his life like he's just scolding her for coming into work late, "Do you actually know how many painkillers it takes to kill someone, or were you just hoping I'd take enough to get sick, and you could finish the job... manually?"

Melanie takes a deep breath, but even from here you can hear the fine tremor underneath it, "Why...? Why bother asking then? Why bother if you know everything?"

Elias chuckles, unperturbed, "I don't know everything, Melanie. Do you know how exhausting that would be?

"I'll tell you one thing I don't know," he continues, "and that's how to convince you that I'm trying to help. Honestly, you're one of the lucky ones. But not if we're all dead thanks to an... overzealous-" you wince, "-attempt at independence."

Melanie sounds like she's gearing up for a fight, like a toy with its key turned too many times, "I don't need you to-"

Elias interrupts, speaking with an infuriating condescendence, like he's just turning down Melanie's request for a promotion the third time this month, "Let's have no more clumsy assassination attempts, alright? And we'll say no more about it. Consider this your first warning." His voice swoops lower, quieter, dangerous, "Next time I shall have to escalate matters, and that won't be a pleasant process for anybody."

A pause for dramatics. "Understood?"

Melanie grits out her own assent, "Yes."

Melanie seems now to be a problem neatly taken care of and filed away, never to be considered again except maybe for his own occasional amusement. There's an audible smile in Elias's voice, "Good."

Next thing you know, Melanie storms out of the office and straight past you, looking too angry to have remembered that she left you standing there. You blankly watch her go, mind spinning in lazy circles while considering the conversation you overheard.

"Will you close the door before you leave, Alex?"

You don't bother to stop long enough in his office for a chat of your own.

-

It’s curious, really.

He said, 'I don't know everything. Do you know how exhausting that would be?'

He's some form of omniscient, that's for sure. Maybe like a maid working in a Victorian household, always on top of the gossip. Whether that be creating the gossip himself, or simply being the agent who spreads it, that depended on the time of day.

But he can't know everything, all the time. Because that would be too much.

Which means there are loopholes.

"Hey Rosie."

Little nosy Rosie looks up, smiling politely as you stop by to say hello. It's not a very comfortable smile, because anyone who's anyone knows to stay well away from the Archives and their staff. Not Rosie though, little Rosie has quite the fine palette for juicy bits of gossip, reason why she bothers talking to the lot of you, "Hello Alex. Everything well in the Archives?"

You wave your hand dismissively, "We're getting along, I suppose. Lot of excitement with all that murder business, you know how it is."

There's that gleam in her eyes now, that 'oh, what's this?' gleam of curiosity, "Not quite, no. Listen, did I hear it straight that Jon's back? Even after being accused of murder?”

You shift, getting yourself comfortable leaning against Rosie's desk, "Well, they dropped the charges, right? Turns out they had it all wrong, Jon wasn't the one who took a pipe to some old man's head. I mean, look at him? D'you think he'd do it?"

Rosie squirms under your gaze, looking distinctly guilty, "I suppose not. He's a bit of an arse sometimes but- maybe not murder."

"Oh, it's all right Rosie, if my body ever turns up dead you know where to look." You wink. Her lips quirk up in a smile. It's just a spot of joking you two are doing here, really. You turn your head then, just slightly, pretending to look around a bit when you spy a tea kettle boiling away in the corner. "Having a cuppa?"

"What?" She follows your gaze and startles, "Oh! No, no, that's for Mr. Bouchard. He takes his tea this time of day."

You make a low noise in the back of your throat, casually interested but not obviously, "That so. You deliver his tea all times of the day, then?"

Rosie gives you a bemused look, as if she suspects you're trying to turn your nose up on the fact that part of her job is to bring tea to her boss. "It's only twice a day. He's never broken from schedule, doesn't bother me for it otherwise."

You hum an empty agreement, "Seems like the kind of man to keep on schedule."

"I should get to that actually," She pushes away from her desk and starts to her feet, "The water's probably done."

"Yeah, alright." You push off of her desk, giving her nod as you wander over to the door of her office, "Nice chatting with you Rosie. You should come down to visit the Archives sometime."

The last thing you see is her indulgent smile, the kind you give someone when you're only putting up with them until they're gone. In this case specifically, it's a -I don’t want to get caught up in whatever goes down there in the Archives, no thank you- kind of smile.

Oh well. You got what you came for anyways.

It's rather easy after that.

A month of seeing neither hide nor hair of him, Jon comes back. He looks remarkably harried, and you don't think you'd have even noticed him coming into work had you not been in the reception area during that time. As such, you watch him rush straight past you and for the stairs, and you can make a guess for where he's headed with a single-minded focus like that. It seems like Elias has a lot to do with the nonsense that occurs down in the Archives, and people can't be happier having someone to blame.

You pop down in the Archives and tell Martin that Jon's back. He sighs in relief. Even before becoming scarce at his own workplace, it was always Martin that Jon kept the most contacts with, only to completely drop off the grid these last few weeks. Somewhere in the midst of your conversation Melanie comes marching in, a crazed look in her eye, and you know what she's planning too.

I mean, what better time than when the boss-bossman is distracted, eh?

An uncomfortable few seconds of watching Melanie stomp about before she leaves, the door closing behind her with a bang. Martin sighs tiredly and you know that he wishes she would just stop with all of this. These days, he’s more and more like a tired father of two toddler who has accepted his horrible lot in life, and yet still his children continue to insist on making it worse.

You give him a comforting little pat on the back. As far as you’re concerned, it's their loss if they insist on putting their heads in the lion's mouth.

Heading upstairs, you find Rosie's office empty. It must be if she’s settling the little dispute going on up in research. The kettle is however turned on, because Mr. Bouchard has always been a man of schedule.

It's easy, to slip in something into the water.

-

Elias can't know everything, all the time.

He knows he needs to keep an eye on his Archivist's development. The brunt of his gaze has always rested on Jon and it’s obvious that none of you Assistants can ever hope to stand in the same regard, not really.

Elias keeps an eye on Melanie. Melanie is unstable. She doesn't like her actions being controlled; she doesn't like being trapped here in this place. Never mind that she agreed to join the Institute on her own violation, it's her free will that matters to her now, or at least the illusion of it. Melanie is the kind of person who isn't afraid to fight for what she wants.

Elias keeps an eye on Tim too, though he pretends he doesn’t. It just makes sense. Tim is almost like Melanie, but he's been beaten down too much too soon, and won't take it out on Elias. His target is instead Jon, who seems to be at the center of most of his problems and is a much easiertarget. As long as that continues to be true, Tim is content on simply being indirectly snide towards Elias.

Elias doesn't really keep an eye on Martin. Oh, he knows that Martin is just as angry with him as any of others, but Martin has never been the kind of person to do anything about it.

Elias doesn't really keep an eye on you. You know what people think of you. That you're kind of an airhead. Always lost in your head, can't be bothered with the world outside it half the time. You're the kind of person that likes keeping their head down and quietly working away at your desk, and that hasn't much changed since... well, everything.

Nah. The murder thing isn't even on the top of your list. You'd just like some peace and quiet down here, for once. And, well, Elias seems to be the root of everyone's problems, including yours...

Still, there's no point in doing anything without at least enjoying the results. You researched extensively on what kind of poison to buy, taking into mind Elias’ oh-so-kind lecture to Melanie about picking your poison. It wouldn’t have done for him to taste something off about his tea the moment he took the first sip.

So, after exactly the time it would take for his tea to kick into effect, if you compensate for the time he would take to drink enough of it, you check in on Elias.

The first thing you see is the man collapsed onto his desk, eyes wide open and mouth frothing. The second you see is Jon, staring at the now dead body in front of him with surprise.

"Oh. It worked."

Jon's eyes snap toward you, "Wh- Alex? Did you do this?!"

You rub at your ears at the pitch of Jon's voice, an octave or two higher with hysteria, "I didn't know it'd work, you know?"

"You killed him!"

You shrug, slipping inside the room. "Sure." You can't be bothered to close the door behind you as cross over to the desk. Jon scampers out of his own seat, edging warily to the other side of the room. He can do whatever he wants as long as he doesn't call the cops immediately.

You check for a pulse on the body and find it missing.

From the furthest corner of the room, Jon stutters, "Y-you're insane."

You can't be bothered with an answer.

Fascinatingly enough though, Elias's eyes are still moving. They rove around wildly in his sockets, almost like they're the only way he can convey his surprise at being got. It's still unnatural though, and you have the strangest surety that it's an important detail.

Jon by this point has left the office, and you should really clean up here before someone comes in. Still, it almost feels like things aren't finished here. You have the strangest sense when it’s obvious that a story hasn't reached its conclusion.

You cast about the room and stop at the pen stand, holding fancy fountain pens that look like they cost more than your entire salary. You grab onto one, sliding the cap off by neatly jamming your thumb nail into the line where the cap meets the body of the pen, and look down contemplatively at the eyes that have stopped pinballing wildly, fixed on you. They almost look scared.

Well. This is going to get messy. At least you know that Melanie will be willing to help you clean up the body.

Tip of the pen poised; you get to work.

[kindness-bliss]

New Beginnings Ch. 7

Timothy Thatcher x OC

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Tim looked over at her discreetly he witnessed her trying to open a jar and cleaned his hands on his already stained shirt “I got that for you”   “And I got this for you” she said as she went into her small closet in the living room and pulled out a flannel shirt  “It’s my dads, I don’t wanna see you in a bloody dried up t shirt as we make dinner”   He nodded quickly as he took off his shirt and unbuttoned on the one she gave him Maya blushed as she grilled her ground turkey and noticed how chiseled he was, his upper chest having the perfect amount of body hair and peaks, his biceps bulging out nicely but not overly muscular or anything like that    “It fits” Tim grinned as he showed her  “Not that bad on you” she admits with a small grin “Plaid is definitely your style, I like it on you” “I-I don’t deserve you being so nice to me” he said quietly “Maya, I won’t ever be able to stop saying sorry to you ever, know that. I’m probably gonna say sorry to you for as long as I know you”   “Tim, when’s your birthday ?” Maya asked suddenly as she looked at him “I know it’s 1983 but month ? What month ?”  “March….March 17th” he answered slowly “why ?”   “Oh my god you’re a Pisces, suddenly everything makes sense wow” she nodded as she laughed “Gosh you fit it to a T, you’re a water sign”    “What does that have to do with anything ? A water sign ? What the hell is that ?” Tim asked confused as he put his cutting board down   “It’s your sign Tim” she chuckled “Your sign is a Pisces which makes sense because they’re...well you are considered to have a sign that is known for its over sensitivity, self-pitying but also very selfless and very accepting”    “Oh” he said softly “well I guess yeah, kinda is me. My mother says it’s because I’m an only child and never got to experience things other children got at my age since I also stayed with my grandmother a lot. I think that made me highly sensitive”   “You call it highly sensitive, I call it highly aware” she grinned as she took the carrots and celery from him and added them to a pan to saute   Tim observed as sat on a stool by her “what are you making ? It looks kinda complicated honestly” “Bolognese” Maya says “Though I’m kind of cheating because I’m using sauce from a jar, but I promise it’ll be good”   “Oh” he nodded “I don’t cook much honestly, I only have ever made chicken or ham and it’s typically without seasoning. Same with my rice, I stick to bland foods for the most part. I broke my diet when we went to that Korean BBQ place” Tim said softly as he reached over and cut up onion for her    “Glad I got you to change things up for a bit, though you ghosted me and acted like a child afterwards and ruined me introducing you to better places” she giggled   “I’m gonna age myself here a bit but um, what’s ghosted ?” he asked with genuine interest as he looked down at her   “It means ignore, basically a millennial way of saying you ignored me” she answered back  “Ah I see, I like that...ghosted. I’m adding that to my vocabulary” he nodded as he repeated the word under his breath as he chopped   “Gosh he’s cute” Maya thought to herself as he stood only inches away from him, their arms basically touching as she sauteed. She made sure she stayed in close distance as she cooked looking around as silence began to take over   “Since you were a dick to me, you have to be really nice to me now like really nice” she said with a smile  “I will do whatever you want or need me to do” Tim smiled at her with his dimple popping out more “Kiss me” she whispered nervously as she looked into his eyes    “Like...like right now ?” he asked nervously “o-okay...I’m not that good at it though and my beard is gonna scratch, my lips are kinda dry too and-” he stopped blubbering when he felt her soft lips gently press onto his as she carefully put his hands on her waist as he leaned in more and placed hers on his cheeks    Maya grinned up at him afterwards as she gently wiped his lips and put ice back on his face “go sit with this on while I finish here and by the way, you’re a good kisser”  He chuckled as nodded and sat on her couch “well thank you, haven’t heard that one in like 5 years at least”. Tim sat quietly as he iced his face trying to make sense of what had just happened. Just 6 hours ago he had told her horrible things and now here was having just had a make out session in her kitchen as they cooked dinner together. Tim looked around as he picked up magazines she had on her coffee table and looked through them smiling when he realized they were all her covers or features. One in particular catching his eye, a feature in a parenting magazine where she was holding a baby on her lap.    “Last year” Maya grinned “I typically don’t do those kinds but they needed a model last minute and I happened to be in the area and went in. It was fun, kids and babies were great to work with honestly and now what I expected. That little one stole my heart, made me think I wanted my own for a bit”    “You think about kids ? Not in a weird day of course, just since like me you’re an only child” she asked “I mean yeah, sometimes” he admits quietly “Granted I really thought I was gonna stop wrestling when I was like 30 and settle down and have that white picket fence life everyone else had but clearly life has passed me by. But I’ve had some other good things in life, experiences and memories not everyone has had in life. I’m not one to complain, you ?” Tim asked as he looked at her   “Sometimes I want 1, sometimes none and other times I want like 5” Maya chuckled

“5 ?” Tim laughed “That’s a basketball team right there, Jesus that’d be feeding an army daily”   “Which is why then I think maybe not having them at all would be more beneficial” she laughed “I’ve got time to think about it thankfully, like 5 more years”   “Enjoy your youth, and your job. It’s interesting, really it is Maya” Tim says genuinely “You’ve been to some amazing places, you have experiences most won’t get and you’re only 25. It’s amazing truly”  Maya grinned at him as she fixed the ice pack on his face “I appreciate that, but your face will appreciate this ice way way more”. Damn, kissing him must’ve been the best thing she felt in ages, she could tell he wanted it just as bad as she did yet kept his usual calm demeanor. She came out of her daze as she heard her her cell phone buzz, muttering quietly as Marcel’s pet name appeared  “Dinner tomorrow is still on ?” “Yeah….but let’s meet somewhere, I think I’m ready to tell Tim the truth” Maya sighed as his name quickly appeared on her screen and declined his facetime requests and calls immediately  “Answer me please, Maya just don’t do it today please. Let’s meet tomorrow and we can figure something out...please ?” “Fine, I won’t do it tonight but I’m doing it soon, I like him a lot and I’m not gonna keep secrets from him Marcel, and neither should you. I’ll text you tomorrow morning” she sent as she put her phone on silent and set their plates up She went to the bathroom as she wiped her residue makeup off her face and put her hair up in a ponytail to fresh up, applying some perfume lightly as she looked herself over and left the bathroom    “Oh” she whispered as she saw Tim sleeping on her couch, giving soft snores as his arms were crossed on his chest. Even in his sleep he wasn’t relaxed, it kinda looked like he was just closing his eyes to her and waiting to spook her any second. She contemplated waking him up for a second and went to touch his shoulder, but instead decided to graze his cheek with the back of her hand gently, covering him up with her throw she had on the couch.  Maya shrugged as she turned on the tv and sat on the opposite end as she stuffed spoonfuls of pasta into her mouth watching Real Housewives of New Jersey, shaking her head at the stupid drama on her television shifting when she heard Tim move around and groan   “What ? What happened ?” Tim asked with a groan as he stretched “did I fall asleep here ?” “You did” she nodded “only been like an hour and a half, now please get yourself a plate and don’t bother me for the next 20 minutes because Teresa Giudice is about to cause drama at this fashion show so shhh”   He raised his brow in confusion as he stood up and served himself a plate and sat next to her going back and forth between her reactions and the tv screen in front of him “Did she just call her an old hag and a bitch ?”    “Tim shh” she put a finger to his lips absentmindedly Tim nodded quickly as he leaned back into the couch and ate, speaking up when the show was over with wide eyes “That was… a lot. Is all reality tv like this ?”  “Only the best” Maya laughed “and by the way, sorry for shushing you like that” He shrugged “I deserve more than that”  “Tim, as of tonight we drop it” she turned to look at him “Please” Maya cleaned up thinking what the hell she got herself into with him, this wasn’t in her character at all. One second she was ready to see him drop dead 8 floors to the ground and the next she was making out with him in her kitchen. This was new territory she was going into and deep down it felt right, it felt right to kiss him and feel his touch and she could feel he was feeling the same way. She turned her head , gasping as she bumped into him    “Yes ?” she whispered “Maya, I like you” Tim said “I like you a lot...and I feel like if I don’t tell you now that it’s just us here in a comfortable environment I probably won’t say it again. This isn’t like me one bit” he admits “I’ll be honest yeah I’ve had girlfriends, I dated women here and there but I never felt like this…”    “Like how ?” she asked softly  “Scared, scared that when I was with you I liked who I was for once, I felt at ease and like I didn’t need to put the harsh wrestling persona up. You didn’t care or give it much thought either or pestered me like some others had in the past. And I just wanna say-” “Tim shut the fuck up and just kiss me already” she said softly    And he did. He kissed her deeply as he moved his hands down to her hips and lifted her with ease onto her kitchen countertop feeling her hands move up and down his chest. It wasn’t just a long kiss, it was several kisses with small breaks in between to ensure they could catch their breath as their hands roamed freely all over each other's bodies. Maya unbuttoned the first 3 buttons off his shirt as she lightly traced his chest with her nails as her forehead pressed against his “we should go to my room….we don’t have to you know...have sex but we can just do more of this there comfortably”   “Okay” he nodded as he took her hand and followed her into her room, looking around at the pristine condition everything was in. A vanity organized with makeup items and skin care products he couldn’t even name, her bed perfectly made and covered in pillows, a closet the size of his bedroom with clothes in every color of the rainbow. Everything so neat and luxurious, everything he didn’t have.   She leaned up against him she kissed him again, this time with more dominance as she stumbled onto her bed on top of him, feeling his hands lightly on her lower back    Tim pulled apart from her as he rubbed his slightly red lips and pet her hair gently with his hand “I haven’t had anything like that in a while” he admitted with a small grin    “Neither have I’ she chuckled, licking her lips feeling them swell “It’s like free lip filler” “Always a comedian” Tim laughed genuinely sitting up on her bed “Jesus it’s 11 already and I gotta walk back to my car to get home, I got tapings tomorrow”   “Just stay here and I’ll take you back in the morning, it’ll be early I promise” she said softly as she gave a comforting grin “Okay, I”ll take the couch though. I’m not sleeping in your bed, this was a one time thing that I typically don’t let happen”    “What a gentleman you are” Maya said as she brought him a pillow and blanket “I’ve got all the works on my tv so feel free to watch what you like, bathroom is right next to the closet”    “Thanks, I appreciate it really” She got up in the morning as she turned off her alarm and got ready for the day, taking a peek and seeing Tim up and sitting as he watched tv making different facial expressions  “What are you watching ?” she chuckled as she walked out and turned on her Nespresso machine “Danielle is a mess, I get why you watch this trashy stuff. It’s addicting” he shook his head as he turned it off  Maya laughed as she took out two mugs from her cabinet “Well now you know and let me guess, you take your black ?” “ Yeah” He nodded as he got up and sat on a stool    “I got a shoot in like an hour so I probably won’t be able to talk to you for most of today” she said softly as she packed her bag “chances are till late late tonight”   “Oh….well um I was hoping if you’re able to, I actually have a taping tomorrow and I wanted to ask you if you would like to attend ? It’s about 2 hours, it’s fun even for someone like you who’s never been around wrestling” Never been around wrestling, after a great night she remembered the big mess she had yet to talk to him about. Marcel, shit.    “I’ll try my hardest” she responded with a grin as she drove them back to his car “Thanks again for driving me here, I appreciate it have a good shoot” he nodded as he lingered for a while leaning in slowly as he pet her cheek with his hand and kissed her “Um I think your friend over there saw us” Maya laughed softly as she pointed to an opened mouthed Oney at the gym entrance    Tim chuckled and shook his head as he got out “I’m not gonna hear the end of this one, I’ll text you later, have a good work day” he smiled softly as he walked away “Is that….you have a ?, speak up already” Oney pushed as he followed him to his car “you can’t just not tell me what’s going on after kissing someone like THAT” He turned around as he got out his gym bag “excuse me ? what do you mean like that ? what’s with the emphasis on the end there ?”    Oney shook his head as he gave a scoff “Do you have any idea who that is ? What kind of work she does ?”

  “Uh yeah she’s a mode” Tim nodded as they walked inside “I’ve seen her stuff, she showed me and talked to me all about it”

“I can’t believe you’re dating a model man, you of all people. No offense of course but I mean I never pictured you even dating someone at all”

Tim raised a brow “I’m that bad of a catch huh ? Gee I feel great now that you’ve given me this amazing pep talk, feeling like I can conquer the world now” he answered sarcastically stretching

  “How old is she ?” Oney asked “because there’s no way she’s older than 30”

“25….” he said softly “she’s 25, just turned 25 actually about 2 months ago”

“WHAT ?” Oney said as he spit out his water “No fucking way, you’re dating a 25 year old ?”

  “Would you stop, we’re not dating…….we’re friends that’s all” he answered as he began his cardio

  “Oh yeah because you totally suck face with a friend before leaving right ?” Oney chuckled “You’re in deep, you did the cheek grab and the little linger after you kiss” “Well maybe I like her, friends right now but who knows maybe after she comes to the show might change” he gave a smile “I invited her and she said she’ll come” “Who are you and what have you done to my friend ?” Oney asked with a raised brow “Because you are not the Tim I know” “Let’s just say maybe I wanna enjoy life a bit more” He shrugged “and I’m starting with her, she likes me. I like her, there’s nothing that can go wrong” Nothing right ?

[thebest-medicine]

Distracted

Lore Olympus, Persephone / Hades, tickle fic/fluff, takes place during/directly after ep 112

A/N: I have fast pass and so I waited a million years to post this because I read ep 112 and HAD TO FCKING WRITE THIS OK impossible not to god I fucking love lore olympus AND I LOVE HOW MUCH HADES DRINKS RESPECTING WOMEN JUICE 🧃 GOD(S) DAMN. Also maybe it’s the fact that I color coded the dialogue so I had to edit this more thoroughly but this is one of my favorite things I’ve written in a long time and I just really fucking love this web comic and this pairing and this feels like it’d be on vibe and that makes me really happy ok? ok.

Summary: coda to ep 112, Persephone and Hades chat about what has happened in the past day or two and Hades comes up with a cute (i.e. ticklish) way to help distract Persephone when she is tired of feeling glum and worrying

Words: 2,495

(so... spoilers for 112, also 110 spoilers mentioned)

...

An hour ago, Hades wouldn’t have believed who was about to summon him. Had he known Persephone would have wanted his company, perhaps he’d have worn something other than sweatpants. But now, laying next to her in her own bed, he was happy to have comfortable clothes. At least something was comfortable. They needed to talk about what happened between them. He didn’t want to pressure her, she said she wasn’t feeling good, maybe it was because of him..?

“Can we.. talk about the kiss?”

“Y-Yeah...”

“Did you...not like it?”

“The kiss?”

“Yeah.”

He felt a tightness in his chest evaporate when he heard her words. “...I loved the kiss.”

Suddenly, he realized, everything was comfortable, how could it not be, around her. Hades nearly melted into the pillow. He told Persephone to tell him if she wanted him to leave, and of course he would respect her wishes, but he couldn’t think of anything more devastating than the thought of leaving where he was right now.

“Then.. why did you leave? What happened?”

“I guess I... really enjoyed the kiss and I... got.. excited...” She answered bashfully.

Relief - and he had to admit a bit of flattery too - washed over him. “Oooooh..”

“And then I.. felt scared of those feelings I was having. My body reacted in a way I didn’t expect.” She paused, turning to face him. “I’m sorry for leaving you...”

I wish you’d never leave me again. He caught himself thinking. Jesus, Hades, she’s her own person, relax. He chuckled to himself. God, she’s just so... sweet, and cute, and adorable, and gorgeous, and nice...

“And I’m sorry for being weird.”

He thought he might evaporate into an array of butterflies too when she turned herself fully toward him, letting her arm fall over his chest. When was the last time he just...cuddled?

“You’re not that weird...” Hades smiled. A black moth took shape above them in the bed. “See?”

Persephone’s smile softened the room as she giggled, bringing her fingers up to the moth where two small pink butterflies fluttered into existence next to Hades’ moth.

“Thank you.” Persephone sighed against his chest.

Hades tilted his chin towards her. “What for?”

“For coming..”

“You summoned me, to be fair.” He snorted, then taking her hand. “But you know, I’d- I’d come whenever you ask.”

Persephone gazed up at him, and he could see the smile in her eyes. “I appreciate it.. a lot. And thanks for... for listening. For staying. For being here. With me.” She wiggled closer to him, pressing herself against his side.

Hades realized he was holding his breath after she moved even closer. How could this be so- so nerve-wracking? She likes you too, you idiot, why are you so nervous? He counted to ten in his head and tried to stuff down the butterflies in his own chest, regain his composure, confidence..

“You said before that you.. didn’t feel good and were having trouble sleeping. Do you... want to talk about what else is bothering you?” Hades offered.

Persephone shrunk in on herself a bit, holding him tighter. “Not- not really.”

Hades couldn’t stop his face from falling a bit. He pulled her close. “That’s alright. If you ever do... I’m here to listen, Kore.”

An idea popped into his head. “If you don’t want to talk about it.. Would you rather be... distracted? Comforted? Held? Or... Want me to just shut up?” He grinned at her. “What do you need?” He squeezed her hand tighter.

“Um..” Persephone thought aloud. “Hmm.. actually.. Distracted...sounds pretty good! I’m not exactly sleepy.” She stifled a yawn into her palm.

“I actually have something in mind that might help you with that.” Hades smirked at her.

Persephone’s eyes widened a little at him. “Um-” She hesitated.

“Oh not- not like-”Hades smacked his own forehead, a blue blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m not- that’s not what I meant! I swear I’m trying to bring my scoundrel level down!” He laughed. “What am I at now by the way?”

“Hmm, well I would have said maybe...15%, but- but that number depends on whatever you say next!” Persephone raised an eyebrow at him.

“15%? Nice, I’ve gone down!” Hades grinned joyfully. “My number might go up after this but..... only a little bit.” He paused sheepishly. “I hope!”

Persephone propped herself onto her elbows on his chest. “Well, now I’m curious, what’s your big idea?”

“I just want to ask you a question.” Hades started, shrugging innocently. “I think it’ll be pretty distracting.”

“... Okay.” Persephone agreed.

“Are you ticklish?” Hades couldn’t keep the smirk out of his voice.

Persephone stiffened up in his arms. “N-” She started to make a noise but stopped when he looked down at her.

She was blushing even more pink than usual, a goofy, nervous smile on her face. “I- I-” She couldn’t make eye contact with him

She had been in many a tickle fight with the flower nymphs she played with back home in the mortal realm. Was there any answer, though, that wouldn’t end with the same result? He’s gonna test it out...

She felt him slowly shifting himself into a better position to do just that, one of his hands was crawling slowly toward her side.

When words finally came to her, just as Hades was about to find out regardless of what she said, all she answered was, “Are you?”

She always fucking surprises me. Hades thought to himself as a blush grew on his cheeks. How does she do that? I was in control a second ago, wasn’t I? He chuckled. “Well, I’m.. not, I- I don’t think..” That definitely didn’t sound convincing.

“!! YOU DON’T THINK?” Persephone practically shouted, a bright smile on her face as she stared at him with giddy disbelief. “YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW?” She was almost embarrassed by how excited she knew she sounded.

Hades rolled his eyes. “I mean... who exactly do you think is going to be tickling the King of the Underworld?” Hades laughed at the thought.

“ME!” Persephone couldn’t help herself.

Hades could think of a few times as a child that he’d been tickled by Rhea or the other gods because of how serious he always was, and they figured somebody needed to put a smile on his face, right? Maybe a handful of teasing pokes from Hera or an accidental brush or two of fingers from Minthe that surprised him by how sensitive it was, but none of that was ANYTHING like what Persephone’s fingers were doing to his side.

She was leaning over him, five fingers digging into each side of him, her thumbs pressing between the muscles on the sides of his abdomen while her fingers squeezed around the back of his sides sporadically. She wiggled her fingers up toward his ribs and used her nails to dig in a bit between the bones.

Hades already had a hard time keeping any kind of guard up with her, so it was only a matter of seconds before she had him laughing. “Ohmygods- Kore st-stahahahop!”

“YOU ARE TICKLISH!!” She nearly had stars in her eyes. He was more adorable in that moment than any of his dogs (but she would never tell them that) even Pomelia.

Hades hadn’t laughed like that in.... he didn’t know if ever. Somehow in 2 weeks, she brought out things - feelings, situations... that he never in thousands of years even dreamed of finding himself in.

“Persephoneheheehhehehehe-” Hades giggled helplessly as he squirmed on her bed. His arms wrapped around her but he didn’t actively stop her. He didn’t want to push her away, and he ESPECIALLY didn’t want to hurt her. Hades would probably rip the head off of anyone else who made him feel so... vulnerable and silly, but with Kore it felt right. Even if she might be torturing him a little bit. This kind of torture was far better than the torture he felt trying to be away from her.

“I- I can’t believe...” Persephone squealed. “You’re...You’re...so cute!!!!!” She stopped tickling him with one hand to cover her face. Both of them had fire in their cheeks.

Hades took advantage of her slowing down her tickle attack and grabbed her tickling hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. “Okay, okay- Stahahop- I- nobody has ever- I’ve never been tickled like that-” Hades calmed himself through his residual giggles as he pulled the Goddess of Spring against his chest, wrapping his other arm around her.

“Hehehehehe.” Persephone snickered, twirling her free hand’s fingers against his neck and under his chin. He flinched away. “You’re ticklish.”

“You’re lucky.”

“You’re ticklish.”

“Anyone else who tried that would be dead.”

“And you’re ticklish.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re very ticklish.”

Hades rolled his eyes. “Okay fine... maybe.”

“Where else are you ticklish? Your feet? Your knees? I didn’t even get to try under your arms...” Persephone noted.

“I don’t like where this is going...” Or maybe I do? Hades laughed hesitantly. “Anyway... weren’t we- weren’t we supposed to be talking about where you are ticklish?”

Persephone, a sudden bolt of confidence shooting through her, declared. “I’m not. I never said I was.”

Hades, almost disappointed for a moment, narrowed his eyes at her. “I don’t buy that shit for a second.”

Persephone’s confident smile faltered.

“So let’s just see about that!” Hades continued, suddenly using the hand that was already holding hers to try to also grab her other wrist. She squirmed enough that he could only keep her one arm pinned, so he just started anyway. His free hand, instead of holding her to his chest, started pinching just above her hip on her side. “Are you ticklish here?”

“Nohohohoho-” Persephone cackled.

“No? You sound kinda ticklish..”

“I’M NAHAHAHHA-NOT!” Persephone insisted, squirming wildly and trying to somehow smack his hand away.

That only encouraged Hades to keep trying more places. “Okay, then..let’s see where else you’re not ticklish.”

Persephone practically screamed.

“You do realize Artemis is here, right?” Hades teased. “How much trouble do you think you’d get in...” He latched onto the side of her rib cage and squeezed mercilessly, making Kore wriggle madly in the bed, rolling around and practically falling off trying to get away. “If you laughed, or you screamed, so loud you woke her up?”

Persephone turned her face into the pillow, rolling herself face down on the bed. Hades let go of her hand and rolled up onto his knees, hovering over her as he continued teasing her.

“Artemis would charge in here, arrows notched, ready to help poor, sweet Kore who screamed for help.”

Hades, caught up in the moment, climbed over her, straddling the back of her hips. He was so concerned with properly tickling her that he didn’t even have time to appreciate that he was sitting directly behind her butt. His two hands wiggled their fingers under the edges of her sides and began to tickle, first in the same spots, then slowly down toward her hips and up toward her ribs.

“And then she’d see this, the Goddess of Spring, giggling helplessly underneath a King, in her bed, in her room, in the middle of the night.” Hades laughed at the scene.

“I mean, what would she think of us?”

Persephone grabbed at his wrists uselessly as Hades tickled along her midsection. She definitely did not see the night going this way. “H-Hades ohmygohaahhaHAHAHAHAHA- plehehehease!” Persephone’s laughter got even more desperate when he started pinching her lower ribs.

Hades leaned down, practically next to her ear. “You’d better be quiet...” He warned as she cackled into the pillow.

“Though.. I don’t know, you’re already in a lot of trouble.” He winked, not that she could even see it, laughing her head off face down. Two fingers on each side latched onto the space just in front of her hip bones and started squeezing.

“100! HAHAHA- 100% SCOUNDREL!! HAAHHA PLEASE BASHSHAHA HADEHEHEHEES- st-stoppit!” Persephone wheezed, pounding her fists against the bed.

The way she giggled out his name.. he was the one in trouble.

“Calling me a scoundrel, while you might be right, given the situation, still doesn’t seem like the best way to get yourself out of it, now does it?” Hades teased.

As he kept going, tickling upward, he noticed Persephone wouldn’t move her arms from her upper sides/ribs so he decided to try her underarms out another time. There would definitely have to be more of this. A lot more.

“I wanna try one more spot, and then I’ll stop, alright?” Hades offered, slowing down his tickling a bit to just lightly scribbling his fingers over her back, shoulder blades, and sides.

“OMG! I ahahahaha - I was nice to you! I- I stopped!” Persephone tried.

“That’s ‘cause I stopped you.” Hades corrected her. He slowed down his tickling on her sides and ribs, shifting himself so he was facing her legs now. “And Kore, here’s the other thing..”

Persephone grabbed the pillow she was laughing into, wrapping her arms around it.

“I think you.. also could, very easily, stop me right now.” Hades grabbed ahold of her ankles and pulled them up close to his chest. “If you wanted to.”

Persephone was grateful the laughter and the pillow were there to hide her blush. Alright well, maybe he’s right, maybe this was a great distraction... and.... maybe she was having fun.

They both noted how she didn’t answer.

Hades kept a tight grip on her ankles with one hand while the other’s fingers spidered and wriggled all over her soles, between her toes, over the tops of her feet even. It didn’t last more than probably 45 seconds, but Hades was actually beginning to worry a little about waking Artemis up with all this giggling.

When he finally did stop, he noticed pink petals strewn around the room.

He slid off of her, swallowing down the nervous feeling that gripped him when he remembered he had just been literally straddling her. He inched back to his side of the bed.

He glanced away sheepishly, a palm to his neck. “Uh- s-sorry if I got a little carried away..”

Persephone pulled her face out of the pillow, a giggly, warm, almost teary-eyed smile upon it. “Don’t worry about it.” She assured him. “I- you- uh, I didn’t mind.” She giggled.

“Well good because, that was really cute.” The words somehow pushed through his brain and out of his mouth and he admitted, laying down once again and pulling her back toward his chest. “Next time, don’t lie to me though.”

“Lie?” Persephone gave him a weird look for a moment.

“You said you weren’t ticklish.” Hades laughed.

Persephone snorted and rolled her eyes. “So did you.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Touché.” Hades kissed her forehead.

Kore kissed his cheek, wrapping her arms around his chest and pulling herself even closer. “Thanks for distracting me.”

“Anytime.”

[passivenovember]

@coffeeandchemicals (I’m doing all three because ily) asked:  For the drabbles, 55 or 60 or 72 with harringrove! Please and thank you!! 💙

60. Before you decide to murder me, let me explain. 

Strain Through a Clean Napkin.

The tiny wicker cabinet is all but hidden from view because, well. It’s hideous.

Turquoise, and like. 70s vibrant. Janky and scuffed, covered in glued-on seashells and so not what Mrs. Harrington allows to orbit their perfect world. It clashes terribly with the cheerful pink walls of the powder room, and.

It’s handmade--has Steve written all over it from the way the wicker door on the left hangs a little bit crooked. He imagines Harrington sat on a wooden bench, googly eyes and pipe cleaners littering the table in front of him as he constructs a treasure chest. The contents unknown. Some of the seashells have fallen off over time and leave wax stepping stones in their wake.  

Billy almost misses it the first time he jerks off before their study date just to be safe and instantly falls in love. 

He washes his hands in the sink, not bothering to dry them before wrenching the doors open and snooping through its many shelves and hidden corners. 

He expects to find, like. Q-Tips, maybe. Nail clippers. Lube if it’s a good day, but. Instead comes face to face with lotions and potions and little bottles full of magic.

Glass jars with handwritten labels stretching as far as the eye can see. 

Billy wipes his hands on his pants before lifting them to eye level, because. The labels, they.

Say things. Cute, disgusting things like, “Hair Milk: Lavender and Honey,” things that Billy can’t even begin to understand on a good day.

He gives the first jar a quick shake, watching mesmerized when the contents float and swirl in the pale yellow liquid. Dried flowers, maybe? Rosemary and something softer, something like--

Billy pulls desperately at the cap. Yanking and tugging gently, so as not to shatter the jar or like, spill Steve’s potion on the ground and burn a hole halfway to China. “Come on, useless piece of shit.”

He bites down on the pretty round topper.

Pulls at it with his teeth until the bottle gives way. The yellow liquid sloshes down his chest, tangling with the wiry patch of hair he’s got going, and--

“Fucking, shit.” Billy grabs a wad of toilet paper and scrubs. It smells yellow. Summertime peaches, melted ice pops, vanilla and orange, and fucking.

Steve. 

It smells exactly like Steve. Billy lifts the bottle to his nose, eyes falling shut in a crescendo of soft, breathy sighs as he takes greedy gulps of this fuckin. Steve concentrate. 

And okay. He jerks off in this bathroom two times a week before settling in for three torturous hours of Steve’s thigh pressed against him and Steve running his hands through his hair while he reads over the notes and Steve licking his pretty pink lips. 

And, yeah. Billy just came, but. He’s is holding Steve in a bottle, and like.

Billy will take twelve.

He can’t get his hands in his pants fast enough. Billy gets the zipper down, wrapping his hand around himself, and. Yup. Works himself over with the vial shoved up under his nose like a fucking. Insane person. Considers sneaking it home, this bottle of magic. 

Storing it in his pocket for safekeeping after tacking the pretty round cap back on, nice and snug so it doesn’t look like he’s pissed his pants when he sits on the overstuffed couch in Steve’s den to go over their chemistry homework. 

Billy startles at that, hand stalling mid-stroke.

He’s been helping Steve with Chem for fucking. 

Months. 

Twice a week, Stetson’s orders, so the kid’ll actually pass this time and here Steve is. Mixing chemicals in his bathroom like some kind of.

Scientist, or. Witch. Something. 

“Little shit,” Billy murmurs, but it doesn’t. Burn, doesn’t. Sizzle like it usually does. He thinks about taking his hand from his pants. Thinks about, like, pulling them all the way off. Bending over the sink and switching things up a little when someone knocks on the door.

Bangs on it, more like.

Billy starts, pouring half the bottle on his dick from fear. It’s cold. Colder than it was before. 

Steve clears his throat from the other side. “Billy, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m--”

“You sure? Was worried maybe you fell in.” Bambi jokes, and fucking. Jiggles the handle. As if Billy would be stupid enough to leave the shit unlocked. 

With his pants around his ankles and Steve’s name burning through his tongue on every stroke. 

“Yup, hold on a sec and I’ll be--”

“It’s just. You’ve been in there for a while and I. Need help with this equation?”

Billy scrambles. Turns on the faucet, soaps up his dick to get rid of the Steve which burns because. “Who has peppermint wash in their restroom after Christmas, fuck.”

“My mom likes the smell--”

“Jesus Christ--I know, Steve.” Billy must make some kind of noise. Must wince in pain, or swear or bang his fist on the counter because Steve’s jigging the handle again, voice tight with worry.

“Bills?”

He winces. “Yeah, just gimmie a minute here, I’m uh. Allergic.”

Silence. Steely and cool, and. 

“I’ll be right back.” And then he’s gone.

“Oh shit.” Billy swallows around something. Fear, or like, arousal from the fear of Steve barging in here while he’s got soap dick and a bottle of Steve wetting his skin from sternum to groin.

He waddles around the room.

Tries to pull his pants up, winces because yeah. The mild allergic reaction, kinda. Makes it impossible to slip in and out of skintight denim. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Billy waddles some more. He searches the cabinets for a robe, maybe. Settles on a towel hung loosely around his hips just as the door swings open and Steve’s there with a packet of oatmeal and a little white pill in his hands.

Looking windswept and pretty, and.

Pissed. 

He takes in the room. The peppermint soap, and the open cabinet in the corner. The three additional seashells that fell off when Billy was tearing the place apart looking for a robe, and. 

The empty jar of lavender honey hair milk. 

Those brown eyes finally settle on Billy. On the towel poorly concealing his erection, because. Anaphylaxis be damned, apparently. 

Billy shows his palms. “Before you fucking murder me, let me explain--”

“You didn’t think to read the bottle?”

Which. “Huh?”

Steve shakes his head, “The soap. You didn’t read the bottle before. Doing whatever it was that gave you a reaction?”

He shoves the pill into Billy’s open palm before he can say anything else. Stalks over to the sink and fills a cup with water. “Here,” Steve says. “Drink it, dumbass.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” 

Billy swallows the pill, wincing as the rough fabric of the towel grates against his erection. 

Steve hasn’t stopped staring, and.

Billy hasn’t moved to hide it, so. “Sorry about your bathroom.”

“Eh, is what it is.” Steve starts putting the place back together. Wetting a hand towel and scrubbing at the water on the carpet. His head is bent over the sink when he says, “Wanna tell me why you were digging around in my cabinet?” 

Like Billy wasn’t just relaxing into the hilarity of the situation. Billy sits on the edge of the tub, opening the packet of oatmeal with his teeth.

“No, not really.”

“Don’t think that information’s important if I have to drive you to the hospital?” Steve leans against the counter, a pretty soft smile tugging at his lips, and.

It does nothing to help the tenting of Billy’s towel so he turns on the faucet in the tub. Dumps the oatmeal in and like, goes to town on trying to make sure the temperature won’t burn his dick off. 

“Don’t wanna tell me why you were taking a bath in my hair milk?” Steve leans over, trying to catch Billy’s eye. He grins when Billy ducks his head. “I use that stuff everyday. Got an extra tub whipped together, so. I can forgive you this time.”

“I know, I.” Billy’s cheeks are on fire. He shrugs his shoulders. “Smelled good.” He says, because. It’s the truth.

Steve blinks. “That’s it?”

“Yup. That’s it.” Billy says. He runs his fingers through the water, mixing until the surface turns murky from the oats.

Steve hums. Pushes off the counter and digs through his little wicker cabinet for a knife, or maybe that nightmare bat Billy’s seen tucked in the corner of every room in this house at least once.

Billy pretends to be interested in filling the tub to the right level, eyes sharp on the give and take of the water when---

“Not allergic to aloe Vera and Chamomile, are you?”

Billy shakes his head. Steve hums again and settles in next to him, thigh pressed against Billy’s as he removes the cap from two short vials and dumps the contents into the water.

Steve leans back. Billy leans forward, because.

He turns on him, eyes narrowed on Steve’s face. “How does everything about you smell so fucking good?”

Harrington’s face lights up. “Oh, I smell good, huh?”

Billy holds out a palm. “Lemme see that shit.” The vials, when Steve hands them over, are lime green and pink with residue. The liquid is smooth, silky like it was spun fresh this morning. Billy makes a face. “How’d you get it like that? You a witch?”

Steve chuckles, soft and sweet. He leans in close, watching the water fill the tub with dainty pink bubbles. “Nah, just. Strain it through a napkin, is all.”

Billy tosses the bottles at Harrington’s head. “You don’t need my help in chemistry, do you.”

“Nope.”

“Then why am I wasting my two nights off stuck here with you, Harrington?” 

Steve turns to look at him, tongue swiping along his bottom lip. “Because you’re cute. And I like having you here.”

Oh.

Billy feels like he’s on fire. Searing a hole through the carpet, already halfway to china when Steve cups his cheek and fucking.

Pulls him in. Separates Billy’s lips with his tongue and makes soft noises that almost get drowned out by the roar of the faucet next to Billy’s head. 

When Harrington pulls away his cheeks are pink. Like bubbles, like secret potions. He grins. “Got lots of stuff in my cabinet.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy sounds out of breath, even to his own ears. 

“Yeah.” Steve tugs at the towel hugging Billy’s waist. Doesn’t even notice the hives, which. Okay. Billy forgets all about it when Steve leans in close. “Mind if I join you?

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Twenty-Nine

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut, and a whole mess of fluff.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

“C’mere.” You say to him. You sit up slightly. “I want you to like hover over me while I suck on you.”

“Are you sure you want my balls in your face like that?” He chuckles.

“Won’t bother me.”

Harry comes closer to you, and grips the top of your headboard. You grip him in your hand at first, and then put your mouth right on him. He sucks in a breath when he feels your hot, wet mouth around him. Sometimes you think back to when you were younger. You absolutely hated sucking dick. Some guys just had bad hygiene. But you loved doing it for Harry. He really made you see how hot it was to pleasure someone else orally. He also kept things trim and clean, which you very much appreciated.

He rocks against your face, going deeper down your throat. You groan against him, and he grips your headboard tighter. His eyes are screwed shut, trying to picture his dick inside of you where he really wants it. It’s not that he didn’t love it when you blew him, he just wanted to feel how tight you were.

It doesn’t take him long to come down your throat. You swallow up every bit of it, and he climbs off of you. You get up to rinse your mouth out.

“Holy shit!” You scream, and he rushes into in the bathroom to make sure you’re alright. He finds you inspecting the back of your body in the mirror. Your front wasn’t nearly as fucked up. “Jesus, Harry.” You say rubbing a spot on your shoulder. “I look like a leopard.” You start laughing.

“You said I could…”

“I’m not complaining.” You assure him.

“Looks good on you anyways.” He gives you kiss on the cheek and pats your bum. He leaves you to do your thing in the bathroom.

You wash your face and brush your teeth. When you come out of the bathroom you pick up his t-shirt and throw it on over you. He’s sitting up in bed reading.

“Harry, you look so cute in your glasses, have I ever told you that?” He looks at you and smiles.

“Maybe once or twice.” He teases. He finishes the last page of his book and sighs.

“What?” You ask getting into the bed.

“Nothin’, just sad. This was the last book in this series.”

“Did it have a happy ending?”

“As happy as it could be, yeah. It’s my second time readin’ it, still gets to me.” He takes his glasses of and wipes a tear away.

“I wish I liked reading as much as you do. I much prefer television.”

“I just like getting’ lost in the pages. I mean, I read garbage novels, but they’re just so addicting. Has a television show ever moved you to tears?”

“Oh, tons of times. I think TV has made me cry more than film.”

“Really? What shows have made you cry?” He pulls you into his chest and turns the light off. God, you loved pillow talk before bed.

“Okay, don’t laugh, but when I was in high school, and college too, I was really into Glee.”

“That show about the nerds in the acapella club?”

“Yeah.”

“That show made you cry?”

“I think just about every episode in the third season made me cry, and I sobbed during the season finale. To be fair, I was like sixteen.” You giggle. “There were a couple of scripted series on MTV too that made me super emotional.”

“Like what?”

“There was a show called Awkward that just really fired me up. And there was Teen Wolf.”

“Teen Wolf? Isn’t that a movie with Michael J. Fox?”

“Yeah! But then MTV made a show based off the movie, much darker though. It was really good. Well, it got worse as the seasons went on, but I watched through to the end. Same with Awkward.”

“Do you watch anythin’ now that tugs at your heart strings?”

“Um…I really like that show Roswell: New Mexico. I didn’t think I would like it so much, but it got to me. The first season is on Netflix, maybe we could watch it sometime.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

“I used to like live blog and write reviews for the shows I’d watch. I still do sometimes.”

“Where do you blog?”

“On Tumblr mostly.”

“That’s cool that you do that.”

“It’s funny because I hate reading reviews of things. I like to try things out for myself. Oh! Do you watch Stranger Things? That’s a good one. Niall and I always binge watch it together when a new season comes out.”

“That’s right!” He starts laughing. “I remember he like blew me off during the day on the 4th this summer to go meet up with you.”

“That was an incredible binge, if I do say so. Speaking of him, he wants to have a movie night Friday so we can all celebrate our good news. I was thinking of having everyone over here. What do you think?”

“Works for me.” He smiles at you.

//

Your period was a killer this week. There were several times during the week you found yourself on the floor in your office. You had run out of your stash of ibuprofen, and hadn’t had time to get more. You were forced to just suffer in silence. The pain would pass eventually, and then you could get on with it.

Harry was good about not getting on your nerves too much. He was slowly learning what you needed while your hormones were at their peak. Every morning you’d examine your body, almost becoming sad at seeing the marks slowly fade away as they healed. You were incredibly horny, but there wasn’t anything you could do. You’d had sex on your period before, but you certainly weren’t going to let him use his fingers or mouth on you right now. You had contemplated maybe in the shower, but you were afraid of residue. You didn’t tell him this, but you got yourself off a couple times in the shower on your own. You had to, the ache between your legs was just too unbearable.

Your body was trying to tell you something for sure, but your mind tried its best to keep you at bay.

//

You were delighted when your period ended Friday morning, but your stomach felt like shit. The first week of a birth control pack was your least favorite thing, even more so than your period. Your dosage wasn’t even that high, but it still would make you feel like you were going to vomit.

“Anythin’ ya need me t’pick up for tonight? I can do a run to the market before ya get home from work.” Harry says to you sitting up in bed, watching you pick your outfit for the day.

“Think I have everything we need. I have chips and dip, we’ll probably order pizza or something.” You decide on a pair of dark jeans and blouse/blazer combination. You throw your hair up in a high pony, and take a few strands out to frame your face.

“Know what we’re watchin’ yet?”

“Nope.”

“Who’s comin?” You sigh and look at him.

“Harry, I love you, but you’ve reached my capacity for questions this morning, okay?” He blinks at you.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I just feel gross and I’m hormonal. Not a great excuse.”

“One more question.” You nod. “Is Aunt Flow still in town?”

“No she left early this morning, thank god. This was a rougher month.” You sit on the edge of the bed. He places a hand on your thigh.

“Sometimes I wish I could just take all your aches away.” You smile at him.

“You do, in more ways than you know.” You stand up and give him a light kiss. “See you tonight.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

//

You felt better as the work day went on. You were excited to have a little double date with Niall and Sarah. Harry got out of work around 4PM, so he went straight to your apartment. He knew you’d want to have the place ready to go so you could relax when you got home. He fluffed up the pillows on your couch, and folded up the couple of blankets you kept on the back of it. He made sure all of the beer for him and Niall was in the fridge, and he picked up your favorite wine.

You keyed into your apartment around 5:30, and kicked off your shoes. Your nose was pink from the cold air outside. Harry had his legs slung over one of the large chairs you had near the couch. He had his laptop, and was working away. He looked up at you and gave you a smile.

“Hi, love.” He says.

“Hi honey.” You yawn.

“I tidied a bit for ya.” You kiss the top of his head.

“Thank you. M’just gonna go change quick.”

You change into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, and come back out to Harry. He puts his laptop on the coffee table, and gestures for you to come sit with him. You sit in his lap, and rest your head on his shoulder. He rocks you back and forth slowly, and you let out a calming sigh.

“How’s my baby girl today, hm?”

“Tired.” He rubs your back. “But I’m happy to have friends over tonight.” You nuzzle into his neck.

“I bought that wine you really like.”

“Mm.” Is all you muster out as you start to doze off in his arms. He chuckles, but lets you drift.

Your eyes snap open when you hear Niall and Sarah walk into your place. You practically jump off of Harry.

“Sorry, did we disturb you two?” Sarah giggles. “We brought a veggie platter.” She hands it to Harry.

“No, I fell asleep. I was exhausted.” You stretch, and hug your friend.

“Alright, what are we watchin? TV, movie?” Niall says.

“Oh! You know what was on the other night that I’d love to watch all the way through?” You say.

“What?”

“The Forty-Year-Old Virgin. I refrained from watching it because it was halfway through. It’s on Netflix, do we feel like a comedy?”

“Works for me.” Niall says.

“I love that movie!” Sarah says.

Harry and Niall grab their beer, and you and Sarah fill your glasses with wine. You and Sarah sit in the middle of the couch, and your boyfriends sit on either side of you. Your apartment was filled with giggles right off the bat.

“God, we love a young Paul Rudd.” Sarah says.

“We love a Paul Rudd at any age.” You clink your glass with hers. Harry pinches your arm, and you giggle. “What?”

“I’m sittin’ right here. You’re attracted to him?”

“You’re not?! He’s beautiful!” You and Sarah start laughing.

“Isn’t he like fifty?” Niall chimes in.

“So?” You and Sarah say at the same time.

“He’s a hall pass for sure.” Sarah says, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek.

“Agreed. What I would give for a night with Paul Rudd.” You look up at Harry and burst out laughing.

“Jesus, mate, here I was thinkin’ she liked the tall, tan guys, but clearly I was wrong.”

“Now you’ve learned your place.” Niall says laughing. You kiss Harry on the cheek.

You and Sarah laugh so hard you both cry when Jonah Hill makes his small cameo. The guys end up laughing pretty hard at several moments too. You get up to grab the veggie platter out of the fridge and set it up on the coffee table for everyone.

“Thanks for bringing this by the way.”

“Oh no problem, figured it would be better than pizza. Are you excited for Hanukkah to start tomorrow?”

“Yes! I look forward to the gift card my uncle gives me every year.” You giggle.

“Is Harry going with you?” Sarah asks.

“Yup.” You two share a look and start laughing.

“Alright, why does this keep happening? Has everyone been to this party but me?”

“Pretty much, lad.”

“What’s the big deal? Is there somethin’ I should know?”

“Y/N’s great uncle is just a really funny guy. I would just watch out when he greets you.”

“Sarah!”

“You’re not even going to warn him?”

“Warn me of what?”

“If she didn’t warn me, she doesn’t get to warn him.” Niall says.

“Harry…just…” Sarah giggles. “He’s just an older Jewish guy with different ways of saying hello. That’s all.”

“What’s he gonna do? Hug me? M’fine with that.”

“Sure, he’s going to hug you.” Sarah shrugs. “It’s a really great way to know you’re part of the family.”

Sarah and Niall leave around 11PM. You and Harry clean up the living room, and head to the bedroom.

“What time should we leave tomorrow?”

“Party starts at six, so we should probably leave here at like quarter of five, might be traffic.”

“Oh great, so we can sleep in a little?”

“Yup.” You kiss him and turn over. He wraps himself around you, being the bigger spoon.

“That was fun tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we were able to do it. Gotta make more time for them.”

“Definitely….so, Paul Rudd could have you huh?” You turn over to face your stupid boyfriend.

“You’re not serious?”

“Nice to know how you really feel.” He fake pouts.

“I’m sure you have your own celebrity crushes.”

“I suppose. None I would leave you for to go fuck though. Wouldn’t be worth it.” You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “You would really ask me for a hall pass for Paul Rudd? Of all people?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if he wasn’t married with kids, I would consider it. More than anything I think I’d like to just have dinner with him, pick his brain.”

“So you want to go out on a date with him?”

“Sure!” You giggle.

“Who else do you swoon over?” He gives you a crooked smile.

“That’s a very personal question.” You tease.

“Why?”

“Because you’re essentially asking me about who I’ve fantasized about.”

“Jesus, if you tell me you’ve touched yourself thinking about Paul R-“

“I haven’t! Not with him.”

“Who then?” Your cheeks flush. “C’mon, I wanna know who my competition is.”

“Harry, it’s embarrassing.” You shove your face into his chest.

“Please, I’m so curious.” He begs.

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Promise I won’t.” You lift your head and look at him.

“I would bone Andy Samberg if I had the chance, again, if he wasn’t married with a child. I will not be a homewrecker.”

“What is with you and older Jewish dudes?”

“Don’t know. It’s not because they’re Jewish. I just find him really attractive, plus he’s funny. You’re funny.”

“Right, the key to a girl’s heart is humor.” He rolls his eyes.

“Harry, if you didn’t make me laugh on our first date, I wouldn’t have seen you again, attraction or not.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Sense of humor is very important to me. You’re so quick when you joke around, you could be a comedian yourself.” He lifts your chin up to kiss you.

“So, you were pretty hot f’me when we first met, huh?”

“So hot.” You roll your eyes. “I had never seen a man quite so handsome. What about me? What did you think of me when we first met?”

“I wanted to hit Niall for not doing you justice. I mean the lad told me you were beautiful, but shit, when I saw you, I nearly got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Oh stop.” You swat your arm at his chest.

“M’serious. And you were so cute at the end of the night, when you simply kissed me on the cheek. It was so innocent and sweet. Not somethin’ I had really experienced before.”

“How do your first dates typically go?” You giggle. Harry scrunches his face.

“Do ya really wanna know the answer t’that?”

“Are you seriously going to tell me that you usually bone on the first date?”

“That’s usually the only date I want, so yeah.” He says a little too honestly.

“What about the girl you dated for like seven months, or whatever?”

“Uhh, we got frisky…didn’t do it til the second date I think. I don’t know, I was such an asshole, I basically just thought of her as the girl I was consistently hookin’ up with.”

“Were you sleeping with other people?”

“Nah, just her.”

“And she thought you were dating, but you didn’t think you were?”

“I just thought of her as the girl I was seein’.” You often wondered what made you so goddamn special. You and Harry had talked about it before, but it still baffled you. “I know what you’re thinkin’. You know what I really liked about you, like, right off the bat?”

“What?”

“You were just so open and lovely. You were genuinely interested in what I had to say. I thought it was sweet that you complimented m’nails, like not in a judgey way. I couldn’t wait to see you again, honestly. I’d never felt that way before.”

“So you didn’t want to just fuck me then?”

“I wouldn’t have turned the opportunity down. I mean, you looked so fuckin’ sexy in that little black dress you wore.”

“I’ve never seen a man wear a pair of pants the way that you do.”

“What?” He laughs.

“You have a bubble butt babe, and it’s incredible. Love sinking my nails into those cheeks.”

“Are you still drunk?”

“Maybe just a bit buzzed, but I mean what I say.” You prop yourself up to really look at him. “You have a chonk, my dude.” Harry burst out laughing.

“Who talks like that?” He says with a big smile.

“Me and my friends. You’re not the only with a dirty mouth.” You wink. “You know what, I think that’s why I like Paul Rudd and Andy Samberg so much. They both have pretty big butts.”

You both giggle about a bunch of different things until you fall asleep.

//

The next morning you both happily slept in. You got up before Harry. You decided to do a light workout in your living room since you didn’t go to the gym much last week. You put on a pair of spandex shorts and sports bra, and tip toed out. You were just finishing your cool down when Harry walked into the living room, blanket wrapped around him. You guzzled down some water. Your body was drenched in sweat.

“Morning baby. Thought I’d get a quick workout in, we’re going to be eating a lot of food tonight.” He squints at you.

“You…you weren’t in the bed when I woke up.” He rubs his eyes, his voice was still thick with sleep.

“I was just out here, did you think I went somewhere?” You turn the TV off, and walk towards him.

“I don’t know what I thought. I just reached for you and you weren’t there.” He pouts. “I like when we snuggle in the mornin’. You’ve deprived me.” You giggle at him.

“Is baby a little cranky this morning?” You pinch of his cheeks and walk by him.

“Where you goin’ now?” He whines.

“Harry, I’m caked with sweat, I need to shower. You can join me if you want.”

“Not awake enough to shower.”

“That makes no sense. Showers wake people up all the time.”

“Too much work.” He curls up on the couch, and closes his eyes.

You take your shower, alone. You take full advantage of having the privacy to shave every last inch of yourself. You blow dry your hair, and throw your robe on, not really feeling like putting clothes on yet. Harry was still wrapped in your blanket, but he was sitting up and had a mug in his hands. He was watching something mindless on television. You sit down next to him and smile. You throw your legs over his lap.

“Feel how smooth my legs are, I just shaved them.” He gives you a funny look and giggles, rubbing his hand up and down one of your legs.

“Mm, so soft.”

“You’re a sleep boy today.”

“Yeah, I am. Not really sure why, I’ll perk up once the coffee’s in me.”

“Want me make something for breakfast? I have oatmeal and grapes.”

“If you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

You turn on the electric kettle Harry had sneakily bought you. He said it was for him so he could have tea quick, but you know he wanted you to have one of your own. Once the water was boiling, you poured it into the two bowls of quick oats you made up. You but a dash of cinnamon in each, and topped it with some grapes. You come back over and hand him his bowl.

“Thank you baby.”

“My pleasure.”

You both scarf down your breakfast, and sit on the couch a while longer. Harry gets up to clean the bowls, and puts them in the dishwasher. He stretches out, and lets out a moan.

“Alright, guess I’ll shower now.”

You bring the blanket back to the bed and make it up. Harry’s in and out of the shower quick. He has his towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, filing your nails, he sits down next you.

“How long we been together now? Little over four months?”

“Yeah, it’ll be five in January.” You smile. “Why?” He twiddles his thumbs.

“Well, it might be too soon to be bringin’ this up, but s’not like that’s ever stopped us before. I’m here a lot, and I love your place. I still like my place, but I love your place because this is where you and all your things are. I didn’t know if maybe when we got back from holiday, maybe we could entertain the idea of finding a place of our own?” He looks up at you. You’re speechless. “I mean, I’d say let’s just live here, but I need a space for my desk and monitor. I think a two bedroom where we could split the other room as a conjoined office or somethin’, would make the most sense.” He chews on his bottom lip. “I’ve totally freaked you out haven’t I?”

“How long have you, um, felt this way? When did you realize you wanted to live with me?”

“Can’t pin point it. Just somethin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about. I know it seems fast, but we’re practically livin’ together as it is. We can talk about it later if you’re not ready now. Just wanted to put the bug in your ear.”

You were amazed. You hadn’t even fully slept with the man yet, and he already wanted to live with you. You put your hands on his shoulders and push him back on the bed. You crawl on top of him, and kiss his face all over.

“Harry, I would love to live with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Maybe like towards the end of January we could start looking for a bigger place. You know, once all of the holidays are over. Can you break your lease at any time?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Why?”

“Well…you could move in here before we find another place. Doesn’t make sense for you to keep paying rent. It could take us months to find a place, I’d rather have you here during the in between. We can rearrange the furniture to fit all of your things. And I have that storage unit, we could keep your bed and bulkier furniture there for a little while.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You kiss him. “Um…not that I don’t wanna tell the world, but I’d like to keep this quiet from my family for a bit. I still have to tell my dad about England. I’d rather ease them into something like this.”

“Of course. Better keep it quiet from my mum too. Keep everything nice and light.”

“I’m so excited!”

“Me too!”

Harry always seemed to be able to read your mind. It was a conversation you were hoping to have with him after you got back from England. You just couldn’t believe that he beat you to it. You were practically living together, and it didn’t make sense for you both to be paying rent separately. You’d miss his little place, but you’d eventually find a bigger place you both liked. You still loved the idea of potentially living in Niall’s building. Once you start making more money, you’d be able to afford it no problem.

[butmakeitgayblog]

Clexa engagement please!! I’m also very excited to see Lexa be a bitch to Bellamy, but that one shot of Clexa going to Abbys and talking about how much they want to marry one another is definitely one of my faves. I’m excited to see how the proposal will go 💛

Ok, here's for you sweet anon. Bear in mind it's still rough and unedited but here ya go. A sneak peek of CoA Clexa engagement

///////////

"No!"

Lexa startled at the yelp, hand hovering over the bag she had been reaching for. 

"... What?"

Her friend shifted in her seat under Lexa's wide eyed gaze, shrugging lightly as she glanced down at her phone. 

Again. 

"Nothin'. Just, ya know. Stay for a little longer."

"I'm tired, Cos," she breathed, wrapping her fingers around the bag at her feet and lifting. "I had an 8 o'clock class and work all afternoon. Besides, Clarke said she was going to have to stay late and I want to have dinner done when she gets home."

Strained brown eyes swung back down to the phone for a second, lips twisting in thought before she looked back up. "Just… ten more minutes?"

"Costia?" Lexa smiled, hitching her bag securely over her shoulder and standing. "I'm going home. You can awkwardly flirt with Luna over refills all by yourself."

"No, that's not- dammit, hang on," Lexa heard as she passed, patting Costia's shoulder on her way to the coffee shop door. 

"Night, Lu," she called to her coworker and stepped outside, stumbling slightly as a body collided with her back. "Jesus, Cos, what the hell?"

"Sorry," her friend mumbled after they righted themselves, fingers flying over the keyboard as she shook her head in apology. "Didn't see you."

"Yeah, I got that. You've had your nose in your phone all night."

Costia's head whipped up at that, eyebrows lifted on her forehead as she stared blankly for a moment.

"... No I haven't."

Lexa snorted at that, giving a patronizing smile and nod of agreement as she slowly started walking backwards. "Suuure… I mean I don't mind, except you were the one who asked me to hang out."

"Oh my god, will stop just walking off. Seriously, who raised you?"

"Wolves," Lexa grinned as Costia caught up, turning to walk correctly once she had pulled even.

"Lexa, babe, stop trying to be funny. You're not funny."

"Shut up," she laughed, lightly shoving her friend as they walked. "Why are you even following me? And I mean that as politely as possible," she hurried to finish at the frown being thrown at her.

"Is it a crime to make sure my friend gets home safe?"

"No, but this would literally be the first time you've ever actually done that."

"It's a nice night," Costia shrugged. "Speaking of which, slow down."

"I told you I want to get home-"

"I know, but just, like, slow down."

"Why are you being so weird?" Lexa frowned as they rounded the block of her apartment, gently shrugging off the hand that kept pulling on the back of her shirt. 

"I'm not, I just… Just walk slower. Jeez."

"We're like ten feet from my apartment, why are you- what is happen-"

"Oh, you know what?" Costia interrupted, Lexa halting in place at the sharp tug to her arm as Costia hurriedly unlocked her phone. 

Holding a finger up, she clicked a few times on the screen and smiled before stuffing it back in her pocket.

 "Actually? I just realized I have somewhere to be."

"... What the fu-"

"Yeah, it's crazy. Have a good night, boo." 

With that she wrapped Lexa in a quick one armed hug before spinning on her heel and started walking away.

Lexa stood staring at the retreating figure, mouth slack and eyes wide with confusion. "... What the hell was that?" she called out, finally finding her voice when the woman was a half a block away.

"You said you wanted to go home," Costia hollered back with a flick of her hand, not even bothering to turn around. "Night, Lex."

With an unseen half-hearted wave back to the lifted arm of her friend, Lexa silently took in the blasé farewell as she turned to walk the final steps to her building. 

Mindlessly punching in the code and settling into the elevator, Lexa played over how fucking bizarre her friend had behaved. 

Because while, yes, it seemed that just about everyone one in their friend group was a bit… eccentric in their own ways, whatever that was impressively befuddling. But as the doors slid open on the floor to their apartment, Lexa's stomach still rolling a bit as it always did on the final lurch of the elevator (stupid human equilibrium), she decided to chalk the odd behavior up to the woman's residual nerves.

It was kind of sweet, actually. How Costia had tried so nonchalantly to ask about Luna. Though Lexa thanked God everyday for being spared from the horrifying prospect of ever having to wander the earth searching for her potential love, she really had enjoyed teasing the hell out of her friend over it. 

And with the amount of heckles her and Clarke had had to endure over the past four years, honestly she felt the reversal of power was long overdue. 

Mind deep in thoughts of watching her friend trying and failing to effectively shoot her shot with the laid-back barista that had a propensity for getting under her girlfriend's skin, Lexa turned the key in the lock and shuffled into the apartment…

Only to hear music softly playing down the hall.

"Clarke?" she called as her brow furrowed, not getting a response while she toed off her shoes and hung her bag on the hook. Raising her voice a bit, Lexa started walking further into the apartment. "I thought you said you had to work…late..."

Her words died on her tongue as she took in the room around her. 

Every surface was littered in candles made up of every shape and size. Flames swayed in flickering dances, splashing the walls of their living room with the soft golden pearl of artificial dusk. The air smelled of primrose and fresh rain, the usual musky-woody scent of their apartment now a pleasant undertone. But still there. 

Still them. 

Lexa's eyes wandered the room, blinking in the shimmering glow as her feet slowly dragged over the floor of their living room, the residual warmth of the numerous candles wrapping her skin in comforting heat. 

It was a bit overwhelming standing in the middle of the display, mind sluggishly tumbling over itself trying to make sense of what she was seeing. 

"Welcome home, baby."

Lexa wheeled around at the quiet words, feeling the air catch and swell in her throat at the sight before her. 

The black and white tile of their kitchen glowed in the spill of soft fiery orange, equally as adorned with a smattering of candlelight as the living room. It was dim, yet brilliantly lit in an aura of swirling warmth. And stood bathed in a wash of its heavenly glow, was Clarke.

Grey eyes slid from the luminescent crown of golden hair, the locks looking more bronzed and supple in the wavering light, to the relaxed set of her lips, tilted with the ghost of a secret smile.

And then she let her eyes slide down further, heart roaring in her ears at the sight of-

"My coat."

The dark black material hung heavy over Clarke's shoulders, the sleeves a touch too long and the length cutting more toward her ankles than mid calf. It would have been a sweetly hilarious sort of picture if seeing it after so long didn't have the breath rushing from Lexa's lungs. 

She'd thought it was gone.

Whether taken back to its maker or possibly, and Lexa had felt so sick at the thought she'd never gathered the courage to ask, thrown away during Clarke's few heartbroken days. But… there it was. Looking exactly as she remembered it, though the effect of its weight feeling so different wrapped yet again around the woman she loved.

"I uh, yeah," Clarke smiled, bringing a hand up to fiddle with the collar before smoothing down and over her chest with a soft sigh. "Surprise."

Lexa swallowed a thick lump in her throat before forcing out words with an air of confusion. "I didn't… I thought it was gone. I- I haven't seen that since…"

"Since you visited me that night?" Clarke supplied, nodding with a wry smile at the memory. "Yeah. I mean, I was pretty sure you were there that night. On some level, I knew… but I still just wanted to be completely enveloped in you… I remember arguing with myself about needing it to fall asleep."

"But you never-- Where was it?"

"I'd hid it from myself the next morning," Clarke said, shaking her head as she spoke. "Or maybe from you. I don't know. My head was such a fucking mess… I'd convinced myself I needed to let you go and move on, but... The idea of getting rid of it or- or you taking it back just made me so--... I couldn't handle it. So I stuck it in a garment bag and buried it in the back of my closet."

Despite the very serious air between them, the weight of emotion vibrating through her system, Lexa really couldn't help the grin that slid across her lips. 

"Ya dirty little thief."

/////////////////////

[smallestclowninthecircus]

Tma season 2 notes baybeee

I made myself take several breaks so I could give my frie d who is listening to it at the same time as me a chance to catch up. Honestly just posting them so I have them saved somewhere but whatever.

ep 41: real graham wrote keep watching before he was replaced. Jon feels like he's being watched. But they werent replaced by things related to the eye. It's the web that's on the box that replaces them. Endless hallways and doors to nowhere. I bet nicholas will have ideas what entity this relates to. If it even does. They're like the tunnels in the one with the builder guy. Tunnels closing in etc. Also like the cave diving one. He's assuming it's just one

ep 42: so 100 gecs? (IM SORRY I LIKE 100 GECS BUT LMAO) so there's some entity related to music right? There's the piper episode and the 27 w/ the calliope. Ah yes, this season is gonna be the season of Paranoid!Jon

ep 43: section 31? fucking books. god no. smashed lights? cult lady did that. covered the lights too. she mentioned a spooky clown doll. thats not random.

ep 44: is this that same circus that got mentioned before? it is! the pipe organ! pop off organ! pipe off! mouth on the stomach! yes! mouths in unusual places my beloved!

ep 45: antiques! like that one ep!

ep 46: every time books get mentioned i sigh. hhh sus smells. it got brighter. I get the vibes occasionally that the dark and the eye are sorta at odds with eachother. GRRR BARK BARK LEITNER. ayyy ex altiora. entity go brr. which entity do we thing it is? my guess is The Dark. The book buyer's name is Mike. He has scars? Electricity? The childhood friend of the guy who got it later on perhaps? The Vast? its formatted like an entity idk. This happened before the other one. He got trapped in the wood carving. a win for the web lol spiders go brr

ep 47: did i hear spiral? ITS THE NOT THING FROM THE EPISODE WITH NOT GRAHAM "it didnt move, it shifted" is like the exact same sentence as before. ay john's starting to remember. the laughing woah thats weird. is "michael" one of the entities? "you make it seem like theres a war" supports my theory that theres a struggle between a couple of the entities. I said i thought it was the eye and the dark i believe but im not sure. its whatever entity michael is vs the worms? what did nicholas say the worms were again? The Corruption? still dont know which one michael is tho.

Had to take a break after that episode. smth about the quality of michael's voice makes me feel like im gonna slip into one of those states where it feels like nothing is real, so i got a nice cold glass of water.

ep 48: jesus ok this one's kidna corny. you're telling me love made the crowd go away come on now. Ur losing it big J. also shouldnt it be more sus that "sasha" is so unaffected by the worm incident/ finding of gertrude's body

ep 49: haven't we heard hector's name before? oh is he the crime guy? fucking jared... so it's a throat? chompa chompa. (it's just a little bit hot) the good part about these episodes is that we know whoever's telling the story isn't gonna die. even if it's a close call, they're not dead. hotworth? ok not jared keay. it bothers me how theres so many repeated names, can they not come up with other names? "sasha"'s computer is breaking... sus. Elias our favorite weed man! jon ur so paranoid lmao

ep 50: robert smirk, at it again. this is like that one episode with the old dude who locked his door. who said idle beforehand? was it smirk? fingertips. thats so weird lmao. bahahah tim

ep 51: simon fairchild. im sure jon will mention the name at the end i cant remember where we've heard it. this is just like the cavediving episode. a hand? there was a hand in the last one right? the scalpel! and an eye thing. she's trying to throw them off.

ep 52: thats the guy from before! with the hearts! god i hate this guy writing the statement hh. lights blowing, and brackish water. we know how this ends but its still tense. rainer? reigner? rain man. we've seen him before

ep 53: pls not a leitner. oh boy mans scratched out his eyes. rip skelly. why would gertrude have had this statement off the books? jon stabbed himself?? bruh im? big man are you okay

ep 54: cockney boys! ayy its our favorite delivery men. she cut out their eyes. she knew that the eye was a thing?

ep 55: oily residue like the retirement home!

ep 56: worms? no. spiders?? bruhh. aaah yelling :(( aww martin anyways yeah i called it about paranoid!jon he needs to take a nap and drink some hot chocolate and calm down for once please

ep 57: just remembered, i think theres an entity called The Lonely?? This feels pretty lonely idk. fairchild, lukas/ lucas, some spooky place in norway idk. "sasha" knew he was recordinig hmm suspicious cmon jon figure it out. Sasha and tom. hm sus. for records sake i feel liek i should note here that I did have it spoiled to me simply that that's not sasha, but thats really all. i assumed it was like the thing that happened to graham in S1

ep 58: i feel like i recognize the name eustice (?) wick. someone please tell me im not just watching jon's descent into madness over the course of this podcast. im hoping it isnt so but, (and pardon the dsmp reference) im getting real wilbur vibes from this one.

ep 59: oh dear ok account from the fielding house. swirling designs? Spiral time? oh boyy. oh wait! 6 inch hole in the middle! is it not a spiderweb type design on the table? thats what i had assumed but that description sounds more like a spiral thing. cobwebs is a Web thing. ayy nicholas was right! the box goes in the table! the place that she kissed him was burning. Raymond is an avatar of The Web and agnes is the burning one. Lightless Flame! Why did she save him? i guess she was against this guy eating ppl or wtvr but why was she at the halfway house then? I think she's like michael.

ep 60: the eye go brr

ep 61: breacon and hope once again. tom. sasha's boyfriend. vampires sleep in coffins. the guy just walking in seems similar to the mind control of the vampires

ep 62: bones! its that one leitner. is this mother keay? the mom of gerard? this is what happened to her right? her skin was found on hooks? oh yeah thats what i thought the pages are made of skin. yeesh. The End!! sounds like an entity. phrased like one, and i think i remember it. are the people trapped in the pages? or... kept?

ep 63: eaten by the darkness! cavediving episode! (just like eaten by the sky) did my brain make up one called The Vast? it feels like it should be one, and all these episodes have some similar description about their feelings when they do whatever chosen hobby they have. ok now this one kinda feels like the dark. lights going out and all that. ok so not really a The Vast thing, its more of a Dark thing. feckin smirk gah.

ep 64: dice! the death guy! the death game thing! the person tricked somebody else into becoming death and then they were immortal? but if the egyptians wanted to kill him or punish him or whatever couldnt they just kill him? it worked in the end when he had the person giving the statement stab him, that did the job and actually killed him

ep 65: finally jon is actually acknowledging something is wrong.

So we know Mary Keay was revived most likely with the book by gerard.

Gertrude was way more aware of the entities than Jon. mary keay referenced The End openly and she cut the eyes out of her magazines and all that which makes me think she was aware of The Eye

ep 66: please not buried alive pleeaase not buried alive. lukas of the tundra? didnt we hear the name lukas before? she wanted it to be difficult to find important files because that way bad people couldnt find them?

ep 67: agnes... the girl in the hilltop house? agnes poppin off!! he's really not gonna question how she knew where he lived?? oh no D: the tree. were they the ones working on the house? aww they kissi- OH DEAR. why did she kiss him? it seemed like she cared about him? also she could kiss that other dude on the cheek and he was fine, but maybe it was cuz she was younger? lightless flame go brrrrr.

ep 68: oh god books. yup its bitchboy leitner. mans said "this seems supernatural, its a werd book!" bruuh.

ep 69: heh nice. aw cmon jon listen to martin. gahhh spiders. is that the class we heard about in the other doctor one with the teeth apple? some kind of psych class? oh dear. fucking spiders. aaaah. web do be goin brr. it's like the girl in the homeless shelter! who made the guy leave and she took his bed.

ep 70: is this gonna be the book that mary keay had? Most likely a leitner no matter what. Oh boy latin. Why did it start in latin then become old English? I'm guessing people put them in the book? He cant burn it. Phrophecies go brr. He says eh it's a decade in the future it's fine. Its gonna have changed. Ayy called it. Just accept it, it's a magic book. His death is getting closer. Leitner didnt make them but just collected them? Gertrude burned the book! She burned them down there so no one would know.

ep 71: oh boy tunnels. Our favorite thing /s. is The Buried a thing? Idk this seems pretty buried. Oh dear he's trapped here isnt he. "Not enough space to move, never enough to breathe" is that from the computer episode? With the guy who uploaded his consciousness? Somebody living down there. Hmmmm. Guesses: tom, sasha's boyfriend. Gertrude herself? (Though I doubt it)

ep 72: sweeney todd moment. Meat. The slaughter? Idk we'll see what the supernatural part is. Meat is meat. Similar to the slaughterhouse episode. Is it fucking Jared I swear to God it better not be. Hooligan teenagers, you know how it is. Meat is me lmao. Is the kid gonna be in the freezer. Ok that's good. OWW. Oddly textured candles. Made from people? Human fat or smth? Tom from the meat processing plant!

ep 73: outer bay shipping. Bet it's a subset of breacon and hope delivery. The Dark go brrr. Uh oh mans is gonna die. Leo or whatever. Cult ppl go brr. The people's church of the divine host. Who is the divine host? Is it reigner or whatever his name is? I dont think Jon can quit tbh. Probably an anonymous tip but from who?? One of the entities?

ep 74: fucking teeth hhh. I dont know which entity is related to teeth. Spiral. Isnt the spiral an entity. It feels like it could be related to many things idk. Yeah this sounds like the spiral. Heart attack at 29? Jesus... michael! That's kinda what I was thinking. Sasha goin in the tunnels. Hmm sus. They move the floor. Wack. Bet its tom.

ep 75: Man with a lightning scar. Has one of the leitner books. The childhood friend of the one who first introduced us to leitner. Oh my god that sounds terrifying. Michael crew.

ep 76: scalpel? Hmm spooky. NotSasha... think jon think.

ep 77: another double! NotThem, The Stranger. Not related to the table?

ep 78: what was that at the beginning? Question mark?? Oh boy more NotThem. Decker... what is the deal with the table. Does it contain the creature? Fucking Michael. Bitchboi himself.

ep 79: yes pop off martin. Ugh fucking Michael just leave man. I hate that dude. New person. Hmm. No idea who it is.

ep 80: shitener himself! Ok sir tell us the entities. Ayy The Spiral. Ok we know what that one is. The Eye is the beholding! Oooh. The Stranger. Did elias just kill leitner? Popping off honestly.

[olionheartedgirlo]

What is Love? / Part 12

Short chapter, but I felt like it needed to end there. :)

Hope you enjoy!

---

“Have what in my bag?” You asked, genuinely confused by his remark.

“This.” Minseok spit out the word, his hand moving forward to throw something on the bed.

You stepped forward, looking more closely at the object on the bed. It surprised you, after all this time, to see a needle laying on the bed. The vial had the remains of a yellow residue on the inside and the cap was off the needles end. 

“You don’t have anything to say?” Minseok’s face was red with rage and his fists were balled tight, knuckles white from the strain. He grabbed for your wrist, pulling the sleeve of your sweater up roughly. “Did you do it here?”

“What?” You pulled your arm away, “No! No, I didn’t do anything!” You pulled your sleeve back down. “What’s the matter with you!”

“You really expect me to believe that? There’s the evidence right there, ________!” He hit the bed, making the needle jump. “I can’t believe I let you go out with them. I knew that something bad was going to happen.”

“It’s-It’s old!” Your eyes brimmed with tears and you scratched unconsciously at your arm through your sweater. You could feel time moving so slowly around you, specs of dust in the air, the shadows moving on the walls. And you could see Minseok yelling, but you weren’t listening, not really. 

“Look at me.” He took a step towards you, “Let me see your eyes.” You stayed staring at the window “Look at me!” His hand came up to your face, his touch gentle despite the reason for him touching you. 

The feeling of his fingertips on your chin pulled you from your revery. 

“I hate you.” You let the words slide out between your teeth. “Get away from me.” 

You didn’t know what you were doing but you were sure that you were not going to stay another moment longer. The door startled you as you closed it, the sound of your footsteps on the old hardwood floors mixing with the memory of the door slamming shut. 

Chanyeol came out of the living room, rubbing his eyes as though he had been sleeping as you came down the stairs. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, stepping in front of you. 

“Do you have your car keys handy, Chan?” You asked breathily.

“Uh, yea, but-” He stumbled on his words, unsure of what was going on or whether to let you have them. 

“It’s okay Chan. I’ll be back. I just need to go out.”

“What time is it?” His voice was groggy, and the question came out as a mumble as he walked towards his backpack, laying open on the floor next to the sofa where he had fallen asleep. He took his keys out of the front pocket, his hands fidgeting around them awkwardly. 

“It’s not very late, really.” You pulled the keys away from him gingerly. “Thanks Chanyeol.”

You wasted no time leaving the house, unlocking Chanyeol’s car with the fob. His car smelled like old fast food wrappers and juicy fruit gum. You let yourself sit for just a moment before turning the car on and starting down the winding driveway

In the house Minseok heard the car start and looked out the windows as the car’s high beams turned on. He raced downstairs towards the front door. 

“Where’s she going?” He asked Chanyeol, who was standing in the living room looking confused in his sleepy daze.

“I don’t know, man. She didn’t say.” 

———

You were raging. 

How could he think I would do that? After all of my work to get clean and he just stood there and accused me like that, you thought angrily. Above everything else that bothered you was the look of pure disgust on his face. 

You drove fast, headed for the highway, unsure of where you were going exactly. After all, it was around three in the morning. Not much was open outside of the city where the house was. 

Your phone rang.

Minseok, you guessed. 

You let it go to voicemail. 

You quickly came to the realization that you didn’t have anything with you. No clothes, no money, no drivers license. But you didn’t want to turn around, it was like telling him that he had won. 

You pressed on the gas, going well over 130km an hour. There was a rush of adrenaline taking over you and you didn’t want it to stop. You couldn’t let it.

———

Minseok ran upstairs, grabbing the keys from the desk and took the stairs back to the front door two at a time. 

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get her.” Minseok snapped.

“Let her just cool off, Min.” Chanyeol clapped his brother on the back. “I’m sure it will be fine when she comes back.”

“No way. We just had a huge fight and I don’t want her to do something stupid.”

“Well if you think she’s like that then you have bigger problems, man.” Chanyeol’s tone shifted to something much cooler than it had been. He moved to sit on the couch once more, throwing things lazily into his backpack. “I’m going to bed.” As he walked past Minseok, he made no effort to walk around, instead opting for checking Minseok’s arm. 

Minseok shook his head angrily, stomping outside and letting the door slam closed behind him.  He dialled your number as he got in the car; it rang seven times then went to voicemail.

“________, where are you? Come back right now. I’m sorry. I just freaked out. I don’t want something to happen to you.” He hung up, throwing his phone on the passengers seat. 

It shouldn’t be that hard to find you, right? Who else was out there in the middle of the night.

———

Thoughts continued to race through your head, a roller coaster of emotions filling you. 

The car beeped and you looked down at the dash to see that you were 60km until the gas tank was empty. You hit the steering wheel, letting out a long, frustrated yell. 

Why was this all happening?

You felt like you had been doing so well. 

Sure, you went into the club when you said you wouldn’t but that wasn’t that big of a deal.

You slowed the car, pulling over onto the shoulder of the highway.  

“I should have just checked the bag.” You muttered, letting your head rest against the steering wheel. You knew you would have to call him eventually but you wanted to wait just a little bit longer before doing so. 

You could feel the inside of the car getting brighter and you lifted your head up, looking out the rearview mirror to see two white beams of light coming towards you, and then slowing down, and then stopping, right behind your car. 

You pressed the lock button on the door, just to be safe. 

“________!” You recognized Minseok’s voice immediately. “Open the door!” He tapped on the glass and you looked towards him, hesitantly. 

You compromised by rolling down the window half way. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“What are you doing on the side of the road?” He countered. 

You let out an agitated huff. “Chanyeol had his car running practically on empty.” 

“So…you were just going to sit here all night?”

“I was just waiting before I called because I didn’t-don’t- want to see you.” You crossed your arms, partially in defiance, and partially because you were cold. 

“Just get in my car.” He was already calling one of his brothers. “Hey, I know it’s late…” Minseok turned away from you, walking up the side of the road.

You sat for another moment in Chanyeol’s car, taking deep breaths before getting out. Standing next to the locked passenger’s side door of Minseok’s car, you waited for him to turn around and notice that you were freezing. 

The moon looked like almost a perfect circle in the sky. The full moon was coming, you had forgotten. 

Maybe that’s why Minseok reacted the way he did. 

You watched Minseok hang the phone up and slip it into his back pocket of his sweatpants. He stood on the edge of the road, so still, the headlights so bright you knew that he couldn’t possibly see you, even though it felt like his eyes were burning right through you. 

After a couple minutes he started to walk towards the car, getting in smoothly and shutting the door more forcefully than he really had to. There was nothing to say, so you didn’t say anything, instead, you turned your head to look out the window, head resting on the cool glass. You kept your arms folded over your chest to ward off the cold. 

Eventually another set of headlights pierced the night and Minseok started the car, doing a fast u-turn to head back towards the house. 

“Who was that?” Your voice barely came out in a whisper.

“Junmyeon.” 

You let out a huff of air.

“He was up anyways. Everyone is up.” It sounded like he was blaming you for that. 

“Maybe if you hadn’t yelled at me they wouldn’t be.” You scoffed. 

“Don’t blame me.” Minseok glanced between the road and you. 

“Well, you started it.” He started to talk but you raised your hand. “You went through my bag and found it and jumped to some stupid conclusion. You didn’t even let me explain or anything.” You were starting to get riled up. “Jesus, it’s like you’re pms-ing or something.” 

“Is that what you think?”

“Well the full moon is coming up, like tomorrow, and you’re being super irrational right now.”

“You’re really pulling that line on me? Don’t girls hate when guys do that?”

You started to laugh. Uncontrollably. 

“Yea…yea we do.” You took a deep breath to calm your laughter. “Fuck…I’m tired.”

“Me too.” Minseok reached over, his hand resting on your knee. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” You let your head fall back against the headrest. The feeling of Minseok’s hand on your leg warmed you. A sense of comfort washing over you and pushing all of the other feelings out of the way. 

The car was in the driveway now. Minseok drove smoothly towards the house. Swinging back into his parking spot. You unclipped your seatbelt, letting it fall away from your shoulder and back against the wall of the car. 

“I hate this whole mating thing, you know. I mean, I can’t stay mad at you about anything.” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips and you started to open the door, turning away from Minseok, but he caught your arm, pulling you back to face him.

“Yea,” He said, his hand sliding up to your cheek, his face mere inches from yours. “It really sucks knowing that you’ve found the person you would do anything for.” He bridged the gap between the two of you, his lips moving firmly against yours, his tongue sliding, hot, into your mouth. 

“Tongue already?” You muttered, pulling away slightly. “You think you’re back in my good graces that easily?”

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”

As you kissed Minseok you could feel your body tingling from his kiss. But the part you could feel the most was on your left foot between your toes where you shot up earlier that night. 

[thewritingcaptain]

Bloody Things and Broken Wings (Chapter 8)

"You can't make me stop." "I don't want to make you stop. Not permanently. God, I know I couldn't if I tried. I do want you to take a break and heal. And so help me, yes, if I have to make you do that, then I will." Tony pauses, studying him for a moment before adding, "Besides, if I wanted to make you stop, I wouldn't have told you I was fixing your suit, would I?"

Some important conversations are had, and decisions made. 

Tony stays until Peter falls asleep.

Then he stays for another few minutes, until he's sure Peter is completely and soundly asleep, not being plagued by nightmares like he has been every other time he's fallen asleep.

"Tony."

He looks up, startled. Pepper has appeared in the doorway behind him. He instinctively knows she's been watching him watch Peter for an indeterminate amount of time. Something tells him he should feel embarrassed, or abashed, but instead he just feels tired. "Hey, Pep."

"Hey." She comes inside, her footsteps nearly silent. He knows she must have taken her heels off already despite not having changed out of her work outfit, otherwise he would hear them clicking.

He looks down as she approaches, putting a hand on his shoulder. He brings his up to cover her automatically. "How was the meeting?"

"Boring as they were when you had them," she says simply, her other hand running through his hair once before dipping to his chin to tilt his head up gently. Her blue eyes are gentle but stern. "Listen, Tony. It's sweet of you to be concerned, but he's fine, and you're hovering. He's not going anywhere. Just let him get his rest and you can finally get some of your own, yeah?"

He wants to resist, but he knows she has a point. He really is hovering. Besides, if he wants Peter to trust him, then that trust has to go both ways. The kid said he wouldn't take off and leave, and Tony had to believe him.

"Yeah, alright," he concedes, standing up carefully so he doesn't jostle the sleeping kid, then wraps an arm around her shoulders, feeling hers slide against his back, and lets her guide him out of the room.

They're both quiet until they've closed Peter's door behind them and they're in the kitchen. They separate long enough to start preparing their own food - reheated soup, simply finishing off the leftovers, but neither of them mind. Pepper makes them both bowls and puts them in the microwave as he gets them both drinks, and they return to the table at the same time. Only when they're sitting side by side, stirring their soup, do they talk again.

"Pepper…" Tony hesitates, not even sure how to start with what he wants to say. He's not even sure what he wants to say, really. Does he want to ask her to stay here? To take Peter back with them? Are they prepared for that, the battle it might still cause? And that's not even mentioning his guilt, and his itching desire to break his retirement long enough to hunt down the bastards that did this to Peter, and all the ones who'd tried to use him to get to him and the other Avengers.

"I know," she cuts in, gently, because of course she does. "You know I have no problem with him staying, Tony. But you can't keep him here if he doesn't want to stay."

He lets out a low, frustrated breath. "He agreed to stay until he's healed, at least. I don't know if his definition and mine are nearly the same, but… Jesus, Pep. He's a kid. And the things he's told me… he has no one. From the sounds of it, he's been living on the streets, doing absolutely horrifying things to get by, and I just…" He shakes his head. "I can't let him go back to that."

"You can't keep him from leaving, Tony. Aside from how illegal that is…"

He waves her off. "Hardly an issue," he mutters, and he means it. What was the worst Peter could do, try to call the police? He has a feeling that the kid wouldn't want to do that, that he doesn't trust the authorities - and rightfully so. Even if he did, the idea of someone trying to arrest him was laughable. But that was besides the point. He wanted Peter to want to stay. "I just… I don't know how to convince him to stay," he says at last. "And even if I can, the likelihood that he's going to want to leave the city, where he can't be Spider-Man anymore, even for a short period…"

"It'd hardly be a short period if you want him to stay for good, Tony," Pepper points out. Still, she considers it. "We could always move back into the city."

They could, but he didn't like that idea, either. He liked living in the lakehouse. He liked not being in surrounded on all sides by chaos all the time. But would he give that up? For Peter, maybe. It was hard to say.

"I suppose that's true," he says at last. "I don't know, Pep. I'll have to talk to him, see what he'd be willing to do. I don't want to drag him with us kicking and screaming, but…"

"But you're stubborn as a mule and not wanting to won't stop you?" Pepper finishes with a small smile. "Yeah, I know."

Tony can't help but crack a smile too. "You're the best, Pep." He bumps her shoulder playfully.

"I know I am." She smiles and nudges him back.

From there, the conversation drifts to the mundane, about work, the company, Morgan, and everything in between, and they sit there long after their food is gone and talk. They don't even move from the island except for long enough to refill their drinks, which switched from water to actual alcohol as the night progressed. They're so deep into conversation that neither of them realize how much time has passed until the sound of soft footsteps jolts both of them to attention.

As light as the footsteps are, both of them immediately think it's Morgan coming out. Tony glances at the clock, then back at his tablet, which he and Pepper had been looking at something on before the sound had startled them back to reality. "Go back to bed," he says without looking up.

"Oh… sorry."

Tony nearly jolts from his seat, but Pepper has him beat. She's up almost before Peter speaks, taking his arm from where he's leaning heavily against the wall as he shuffles out. "Don't listen to him, Peter, he's an idiot. He thought you were Morgan. Did you need something?"

If Peter is phased by Pepper's sudden appearance or the fact that she knows his name, he doesn't show it. He offers her a small, shy half-smile and looks down. "No, I'm okay."

"What are you doing up, then?" Tony isn't sure if he sounds like a concerned parent or a controlling asshole more, although it might be a bit of both based on the look that Pepper gives him. He can't help it. On one hand, he knows Peter probably wasn't doing anything wrong, that he needs to trust him when he promised that he isn't going to try to run off without talking to him first. It doesn't look like he'd get very far even if that was what he was trying to do, but the paranoia is still there.

Peter's eyes snap to him, slightly wide, and his smile fades. Tony immediately feels like an ass again before he even speaks. "I was just a little hungry and I didn't want to bother anyone so I thought…"

"Again, he's an idiot," Pepper says, sharper this time, as she helps Peter onto a seat at the island. "You're more than welcome to anything in the house, Peter. Can I make you something particular? Tony and I had leftover soup. I think there's some more left, if you'd like some of that."

Peter bites his lip. "That'll be fine, Miss Potts. Thank you." He looks at Tony, and the return of his hesitance makes the elder hero want to smack himself. "Was I not supposed to leave the room?"

"It's not like that," Tony blurts immediately. "I mean… you're not a hostage here, Peter, and of course you're not confined to the room. I just…"

"Was worried that I lied?" Peter looks at him, and Tony has to look away. That was exactly it, and he doesn't want to admit it. "Don't worry. I would be too. But it's not like I have anywhere to go, even if I had any way to get there, which I don't. If that makes you feel any better."

"It makes me feel like an asshole," Tony admits. He sighs. "I'm sorry, Peter. Really. I know if you really wanted to run, you would, but I just… worry." He leans forward, resting his hands on the table. He may as well lay his cards out now. He feels the urge to reach out to the young vigilante, but he doesn't want the touch to be rejected - which is well within his rights, and only to be expected with some of what he knows now - so he doesn't. "Look, I want you to stay. With us. At least for a while. But I don't want you to feel like you have to, either. Once you're healed, I'll let you go, if that's what you want, but…" I want you to stay. I want you to want to stay. He doesn't say it, but he knows the words are implied, that Peter can read them on his face.

He seems to, and several different emotions flicker across his face before he shuts them down. It only occurs to him the complete irony of what he said - telling him he's not a prisoner, but that he essentially has to what he wants for him to let him go, regardless of whether it's something he would do anyway, in nearly the same breath - when he registers the tinge of residual fear and resignation that flashes on Peter's face. He wants to say something to fix it, but Peter speaks before he gets the chance.

"I…" he stops, looking down at the bowl of soup as Pepper sets it in front of him. "Thanks, Miss Potts. I'm… flattered, Mr. Stark, really, but you don't owe me anything. I know you think you do, because I'm another superhero and because I got hurt by people looking for you and because you don't feel like you did enough or whatever, I'm sure there's more reasons I don't know, but you don't. I don't blame you for any of it, not anymore. There's no point. And I'm not really interested in being a charity case nor do I have any names for you if this is about a vendetta, so…"

"Is that what you think this is?" Tony blinks at him, surprised. He probably shouldn't be, but he is. "Peter, you're not a charity case. You're a hero - one of us, more so now than any of us really. And while I want to know who the hell spent the past six years torturing you, yes, it's a general want to go out and murder them, not just the ones who were looking for me, I assure you. And I'm plenty capable of finding them on my own, if I actually decided to." He does reach out to him now, putting a hand on his forearm. "And hero or no, Peter, I would still want to help you. You could quit being Spider-Man in the next five minutes and I would still want to help you. I supported Spider-Man as a vigilante hero because of the man behind the mask. What you do, and who you are, inside and out. I don't just put my faith in people randomly, and I definitely don't make multimillion dollar suits for charity cases I care nothing for." He pauses. "And I swear, kid, you need to call me Tony."

Peter chews his lip. "Tony," he begins, slowly, his brows drawn together. "You didn't even know who I was."

"Didn't I?" He leans forward. "Kid, I told you. I sent you the suit. I spent my time and money working on it. Did I do that for any of the other vigilantes? No. As you so astutely noted, I don't support most of them. I knew who you were. I watched you. I didn't do as much as I could have, nor did I know the extent of your life or activities - obviously, or this wouldn't have happened, but… you weren't a charity case. It's not like that at all."

"But you asked my name," Peter points out, brows furrowing.

Tony has the decency to look slightly abashed. "I… knew your name. But I didn't want to freak you out more by already telling you I already knew. It would have been a lot of questions and I just…"

He can see the moment it clicks in Peter's head. "Ah," he murmurs, thunderclouds clearing a little. "I see."

It's silent for a moment, but then Pepper breaks in. "The point is, Peter, you're not a charity case. We want to help you, and that's all. But you have to let us."

Peter looks back at her and nods slowly. "Okay, but… how? Because as much as I appreciate it… I can't stop." He looks back at Tony, biting his lip. "You can't make me stop."

"I don't want to make you stop. Not permanently. God, I know I couldn't if I tried. I do want you to take a break and heal. And so help me, yes, if I have to make you do that, then I will." Tony pauses, studying him for a moment before adding, "Besides, if I wanted to make you stop, I wouldn't have told you I was fixing your suit, would I?"

That gives Peter a pause, and Pepper uses it to jump in again, carefully, placing her hand over Peter's and giving it a gentle squeeze. "What we're saying isn't that we want to make you stop, Peter. Although I think the fact that you're worried about us trying is just proof that even you realize it would be better for your health. But while we don't want to make you stop, not permanently, we think it would be good for you to take a break. Preferably get out of the city for a while, so you're not tempted to go out before you're fully healed."

"And also before I can figure out who the hell did this to you," Tony adds.

Peter frowns and looks back at him. "So you are going to go after the people who did this?"

"What, did you think I was going to just let it go? Yeah, I don't think so. I'll have them taken care of as soon as possible, believe me." Tony shakes his head. "This is personal, now. Not just because of what happened to you, but if they're looking for me, they can't have good intentions. I have a family to protect." He glances at Pepper, who smiles a little.

Peter takes a tentative bite of soup, seeming to consider this. "If I agree to stay with you until I'm healed enough to patrol again… will you let me help?"

Tony leans forward, itching to reach for him again but still holding back. The last thing he wants is to risk this progress. "Help with what? Your suit? Catching them?"

Peter bites his lip. "I meant with catching them, but I would love to help with my suit, if you think there's something I could do," he admits quietly.

Tony presses his lips together, thinking about it for a moment. "I'll tell you what," he says finally, leaning forward a little more. "After all you've been through, I can hardly deny you the right to help me catch the people who did this to you, and having your help will definitely make it considerably easier, so consider that done. If you're willing to stay, we can stay wherever you're most comfortable. If that's here, we can do that. We'll stay. But if you agree to actually leave the city and come back to the lake house with us, to try and get the rest we know you really need... I won't just repair your suit. I'll make a new one, and I'll let you help. We'll build it from scratch, and we can build whatever you want into it. Unlimited creative input, anything and everything you've ever wanted in there. But you have to really try to rest and heal, got it?"

Peter stares at him. His lips twitch and his eyes are bright, like he's trying to suppress his excitement at the idea. "Really?" He sounds so disbelieving, so tentatively hopeful that it makes Tony's chest ache.

"Really. Absolutely," Tony promises. He carefully lays his hand over the arm Pepper was already touching, giving them both a gentle squeeze. "Do we have a deal?"

The huge grin that breaks across Peter's face at the words is almost confirmation enough, but his next words just solidify it. "When do we leave?"

Taglist: @lyrical-harmony @lovinmarvel3000 @sweatpants-romance @jewelrnicorn @mentalyokay

[rogerthat-taylor]

Numbers on Flyers Part 3

(Roger Taylor x Reader x Ben Hardy One Shot)

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: You were flatmates with Roger and one evening, while meticulously duplicating flyers for Queen’s upcoming gig, he picked up the phone and heard another boy, Ben, asking to speak to you. For the first time ever, in your decade-long friendship with Roger, he was undoubtedly jealous.

Warnings: Kind of smut, ugh and this is hella angsty

Words: 3.6K+

A/N: I literally had 90% of this done right after posting Part 2 but took forever on trying to write smut so there's that - and it’s barely even smut. I even made a GIF just for this because I couldn’t find any appropriate one so yeah, I hope someone enjoys this idk

Time seemed to have froze. The swaying bodies around you slowed in agony and the music was drowned out. You were held captive by his morbid glare. You were immobilized, even numbed from your own thoughts and even though he was a whole audience, a stage and a drum riser away from you, you could feel his vexation. 

“Liar! they bring you down before you begin” He sang and drummed, his hooded eyes still on you.

“Hey!” Ben called, stooping his head lower to meet your gaze, “I got us juice. Orange, I think.”

“Ben!” you muttered to yourself in relief of finally tearing your eyes away from Roger. 

He handed you a plastic cup of orange juice and then said, “You don’t look so good. Everything alright, Y/N?”

“Yes, yes!” You lied, raising your voice over the music, “Just - It’s a little bit hot in here.”

“The next song we’re going to play is a new one and it’s written by our guitarist, Brian May,” Freddie spoke to the audience when Liar ended, “This is, The Night Comes Down.”

The opening drum beats of the song echoed the hall and instinctively, you looked up to Roger just as you always had when he played any of his distinctive drum bits but just as you did, it dawned upon you how furious he was about you coming in late - well, it was either that or because you came in with Ben. Cynically, you wanted it to be the latter but that was mischievously selfish of you so you brushed of your thoughts.

“This is one of my favourites,” Ben chimed in, sipping from his cup.

You nodded your head and mirrored his actions, taking gulps of your own drink and then wishing there was a kick of alcohol in it. You’ve always enjoyed The Night Comes Down and every time it played, you couldn’t help but be fond of the memories you had with Brian in the middle of the night when you’d be awaken by his soft and gentle voice humming to the harmonies of the song. Naturally, you found yourself swaying and singing along to the song with your eyes close. Your thoughts and worries of Roger slipping away as the song progressed on with the aid of Ben singing along, knowing the song lyric by lyric.  

“And it’s dark again.”

The bass intensified but your head was still swaying accordingly to the song, eyes still shut when suddenly you hit your head against Ben’s hand. He was about to take a sip when your head had hit the cup from his hold causing the juice to spill all over him. 

“Shit,” You gasped, pathetically trying to wipe away the residue that was on his shirt with your bare hands, “I'm so sorry. I’m such a klutz.”

“No, it’s okay, love,” he reassured, chuckling slightly and thoroughly enjoying the sight of you frantically trying to help but ironically only making the situation worse. He reached for his back pocket, pulling out his handkerchief and said, “I think you’ve got a bit on yourself, as well.”

You looked up only to realise Ben was peering down on you, not at your eye level but rather on your chest. You followed his gaze and realised how you had droplets of the juice sprawled across your chest as well.

“I’m sorry,” Ben looked away, “I didn’t mean to-”

“Nono, it’s okay,” you assured him.

Before you could try to wipe them away with your hands, Ben handed you his handkerchief, “Use this.”

You complied, awkwardly wiping away the juice from your chest and then proceeding to do so with Ben’s shirt. God! You were so embarrassed of yourself and of the whole situation but you couldn’t help but be even more attracted to how much of a gentleman Ben had been the entire night. 

“You’ve still got a bit on you,” he said, taking the handkerchief from you, “May I?”

You nodded, your heart pounding loudly from your chest and your fists balling.

“Don’t worry, it’s just at your neck,” he said lowly. Dragging the handkerchief from your collarbone and then at the base of your neck. 

He barely even touched you but you could feel yourself melting away from his fingertips. Your senses taking over and your thoughts driven by lust, imagining all the things you'd let him do to you. Bit by bit, the thought of Roger seemed too redundant. Why bother tolerating him when you had Ben who has been treating you way better? 

“There,” he smiled, pocketing his handkerchief, “You, alright?”

You shook your head and cleared your minds of your thoughts, “Are you alright? I was the one who spilled juice on your shirt, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s really not a worry,” he said, closing in on you, “My dorm’s nearby. It won’t be too long ‘til I get off this shirt.”

You chuckled, lowering your head and biting your lips. You could feel your senses heightening with pressure and delight building up in places where you longed for him. It had been quite a while since you had done anything with anyone and your thoughts were racing with your pounding heart. You were so engaged into the situation with Ben that you didn't even realise that Queen has already transitioned to their last song; Roger’s Modern Times Rock ‘n Roll.

“Everybody in this bum sucking world gonna know-”

There was an audible gasp from the audience followed by palpable murmurs across the hall and you felt chills running down the back of your spine. That was before you even looked up to see what had happened. The band’s harmonies carried on and Freddie went on to sing the last bit of the song seamlessly but at the back, right behind the drums, you barely see Roger’s head all there was was his mop of blonde hair. His head bowed down while John and Brian were crowding around him with concern. Something was very wrong.

“Thank you so much for coming tonight,” Freddie carried on, knowing fully well they were one man down, Brian and John dispersing from Roger for the sake of formalities, “and once again, we are Queen.”

Roger’s head popped up from his tom toms as he raised his drumsticks, one cracked into two, before taking a head bow with the rest of the band. His left eye appeared to be bruised and red. Your jaw fell and your heart wrenched at the sight of Roger in pain. Just like that, you were held hostage by his very existence. Whatever anger or frustration you managed to uphold had crumbled away right there and then.

You fought against the tide of crowds, heading towards the exit while you were heading for the stage which, as usual, already had a small pool of girls. You get to the front only to find Roger missing from the band, “Bri, what happened? Where’s Roger?”

“Reckon, he was playing a little too aggressively so one of his drumsticks broke into two towards the end of the song and ricocheted to his eye,” Brian explained, coiling the wires.

“Where is he?” 

“Thought he dashed off to look for you,” he said, his eyebrows drawn in together, confused.

You ran off, grumbling internally. How could he be so reckless and stubborn? You turned to Ben, concerned you had left him by himself but you found him in the corner greeting a group of his friends (at least you presumed, judging how comfortable he appeared to be with them) and took this as your green light to proceed on looking for Roger. You head out of the performance hall and into the relatively dead street of your campus. The crowd from the gig still dispersing, some getting on their cars while others walking and from across, with your eyes squinted, you see Roger in his flowery blazer (Freddie’s, you were certain) with a can of beer pressed against his eye. Typical.

In a span of no more than three minutes, you managed to plea your way into getting a bag of ice from the convenient store nearby before jogging up to Roger who seemed to be on a daft quest to walk home. The way he was acting was incredibly foolish and very unlike him. He was never one to walk out on the band right after a gig, he would always stay behind, helping everyone to tear down and pack up so to have him just take off like that was very bizarre.

“Roger,” you called out to him from a few steps back.

You knew he heard you, he had to, the streets were bare and awfully silent but he didn’t turn or show any sort of acknowledgement.

“Roger Taylor,” You fumed.

“Leave me alone,” he yelled back without even turning to you, the can still prominently held up to his eye: this was his efforts to nurse his swollen eye.

“Rog, that needs proper tending-”

“I said leave me alone,” he repeated with aggression, “Go back to your Ben or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ben’s a fan of Queen,” you reasoned out to him, “Can’t you appreciate that?”

“Not when he’s got his hands on my girl,” he grunted and spun around to face you eye to eye.

Roger shook his head, licking his lips nervously and turning his gaze on the pavement, “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re girl?” you pondered softly, your heart racing as you awaited for his approval. You wanted to have heard him right. You needed to have heard it all correct, that perhaps you weren’t alone in this whirlwind of emotions. You approached him, closing the distance between the both of you, and attempted to replace his beer can with the bag of ice you had that was already dripping wet at that point.

“I-I...” He stuttered under your touch, “I mean on you. Jesus, Y/N!”

He stumbled back, dodging away from your hand, “With you dressing like that, no wonder his hands were all over you,” he scoffed, “A little skimpy, don't you agree?”

“How dare you?” 

That was the final straw. You wanted to believe that perhaps Roger wasn’t what everyone claimed him to be; the temperament, the volatile drummer and so on but you were beginning to see all that. Perhaps it was time you began to see that too, that he was no longer the kind and passionate boy you grew up with. Even if this had all been of jealousy, you thought he would have handled it better - you wanted to believe that he wouldn’t turn his back on you and treat you the way he has.

“Look this argument is beginning to bore me,” Roger added, “It’s Wednesday night which means ladies night at some bar nearby so really I’ve got better things to do than have you bore me with your excuses.”

He walked away and you let him walk away. Your jaw was clenched tight and fists were balled, your nails digging into your palm. You threw the bag of ice at him and even though it barely hit him, at least somehow you purged a small bit of that anger that wreaked in you. You felt yourself crumbling and you heart aching just as your tears began to pour. This was normally what happened when you were too angry, you’d often resort to crying your anger out and usually it would be at home. A lot of those times, Roger would be around and he would hear all this, sit with you, holding your hands until you calmed down for bit. He would bring you water and insist on you drinking it before you would go on to him about what was bothering you. This time it was different, he inflicted all this.

“Hey,” Ben panted, tapping on your shoulder.

You turned and you couldn’t help but throw your arms into him, seeking solace from his embrace. He understood all this and wrapped his arms around you, laying his chin on your head and rubbing circles on your back to calm you down. He didn’t need to hear the whole context as he watched Roger’s figure walking away, no longer holding the kind gaze that you looked into. He was furious, he knew this all this had to be Roger’s doing and he hated that he hurt you. 

-

Ben had offered to send you home given how you had been in a terrible state just a little over an hour ago after what went down after the gig. None of you spoke about what really happened but you gathered that Ben knew the gist of it. 

“Do you want to come in?” You proposed, unlocking your door.

“It’s quite late and I don't want to trouble you-”

“If anything, I've been the one causing you troubles. Let me try to at least amend those. I think I’ve got a shirt you could borrow.”

You opened the door and switched on the lights before entering.

“I doubt any of your shirts would fit me, love,” Ben sniggered.

You held the door open, gesturing for him to enter, “Don’t underestimate my collection of over-sized T-Shirts. You wouldn’t believe it but I find them to be the best pyjamas.”

He finally gave in, stepping into the havoc that you called home. The table had been left with piles of oranges and scattered popcorn on the table and floors. Both the boys’ rooms were left opened and you could only presume that perhaps they were running late - as usual. 

“This looks like a boy’s flat,” he remarked lightly.

“You’re two thirds right,” You affirmed, leading him to your room which was closed.

He tilted his head and pouted his lips in confusion.

“Unfortunately, I live with half of Queen: Roger and Brian and they hardly ever clean up.”

Your room was in a much better state, it was fortunate that that day you decided to be the better version of yourself (that hardly came around especially in stressful times like these) and tidied up your room so Ben could be spared of the expansion of the havoc that was your flat but had you known earlier that he was dropping by, maybe you would have bothered to going to the extend of making your bed. You crossed to your dresser while Ben leaned against your door frame watching you dig for your clothes. You rummaged through shirt after shirt until you found a plain black tee that was meant to fit almost like a dress to you, considering how baggy it was. You turned and handed it to Ben.

"You sure about this, love?" He confirmed once more.

You nodded compliantly before turning your back to him as a gesture of respect and privacy. In those few moments you were left to yourself and the wall before you with the soft sounds of Ben changing out of his shirt, occasionally grunting here and there. You knew it wasn't the right context or timing for it but somehow you ached for him and it didn't help that at that very moment, he was probably shirtless just a few steps back from you in your own room. You wanted him. You wanted someone who would treat you right. You deserved this.

Without the full knowledge of whether he had finished changing into the black shirt you had lent him, you spun around inching closer to him. He barely had your shirt pulled down when your fingers grazed his jaw before tugging on it to pull him closer to you. Your lips crashed into his in the most delicate way, moulding into one another seamlessly. You heard him humm the second your lips met his as he pressed his lips together against your upper lip gently and almost hesitently. He wanted this too, desperately and he had done his fair share of waiting. You deepened the kiss and occasionally tugged on his bottom lip, earning you a raspy moan from him. That alone, was enough to drive you through the roof but just as that happened, he pulled away, holding onto your elbows.

"Y/N, I can't do this," He panted remorsefully, "You were just crying in my arms half an hour ago-"

"I want this," you cut him off affirmatively, "I'm fine and I don't want to think about what happened."

"Are you sure, love?" He asked leaning in but only to plant a kiss on your forehead, "I don't want to take advantage of the situation."

At least one of you were against taking advantage of the other.

Your conscience pressed on as the revelation dawned on you that perhaps you wanted Ben for exactly just that. For it had been too long and you ached for someone - something - and you needed to fill in the pain and frustration that had been echoing in the void that you felt within. No. No, that wasn't it, surely that was all wrong. You gazed up, your hand reaching for his cheek as you reunited your lips with his once again as if it was an attempt to decline your pressing consience. Ben, however, understood the consent you have granted him, complied to the kiss and committed to it. Reigniting your impulses just like that. You felt the heat and the pressure between your legs intensifying as he got more agressive into it. He cupped your cheeks, pulling you closer to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His tongue worked in wonders you had never experienced before, first grazing it softly against your bottom lip before he would proceed. You moaned into his lips and almost instantaneously, his hand slipped at the bottom of your back pulling you closer to him. You could feel his hardening length pressing against the bottom of your stomach and in turn you got on your toes and rolled your hips against his. He moaned into the kiss right before your hands met the back of his neck guiding him backwards to your bed. You paddled back, lips still connected right until you felt yourself collapse at the feet of your bed. You pulled him closer as you inch higher up on your bed until he pulled away.

"God, you're so beautiful," Ben hummed supporting himself with one hand while the other, tucking loose strands of your hair at the back of your ear.

Every second with you was bodacious to Ben and every fibre in him wanted to treasure this so he took his time, mesmirising you beneath him. You shared the very same want and need with Ben except that you wanted it then and there. You were growing impatient as your hands crept to the hem of his or rather your shirt that was still bunched up from his mid-torso, hardly noticing the way the corner of his lips trembled as he smiled even wider. You tugged on his shirt and he complied, leaning back only to peel away from the clothing. Once chest-bared, he dived into the crook of your neck starting insidiously with small kisses trailing from your collar bone working his way up with his tongue right beneath your ear where he planted a kiss.

"I've wanted this for so long," he hummed into your ear before gently biting on your ear lobe.

His hand lingered dangerously low from your belly and to the hems of your jeans, swiftly unbuttoning and unzipping them then tugging them down. Eager, you continued the rest, shimmying the rest of it down until they were completely off. His hand returned from where it last halted only to proceed on in an agonizing rate. From the lacy hems of your panties right down in the middle, taking his own sweet time to peel it off while exchanging kisses on your neck. You felt your hips buck up as soon as you were bare, craving more of him as his finger met your wet and ready entrance. Nimbly, he slipped one finger in, thrusting it in and out shortly before introducing another finger. You choked out a moan you've been bottling as you shut your eyes, ridden by the sensation. You clawed the sides of your bed sheets as he inserted another finger, his thrusts picking up speed. This was when everything was going undoubtedly right until it went very wrong.

His toungue made a peek between your folds, right above his fingers, and licked you at an antagonizing but all the more sensational rate up to your clit. This carried on, exchanging his fingers for his tongue and then both simultaneously. You reached for his long luscious hair, your eyes still shut tight with pleasure. You felt yourself reaching your high as your moans got aggressively louder, only encouraging him. You were lost in the ocean of pleasure with prevalent thoughts of him and all the concotions that made him. You hated him and sometimes even loathed him but he made you feel so good. It was precisely then when all the right things crumbled into a very grave mistake.

"Roger," you moaned out.

Your heart skipped a beat and your eyes opened wide. For that millisecond, you hoped and prayed that Ben hadn't heard you but quite wrongfully so. He leaned up, your gaze meeting one another's. His had a straight gaze, indecipherable at first until you looked into them longer. His eyes were drawn with shock and hints of pain, only tugging on your guilt even more.

He should have known that all this while, you wanted Roger and not him but how could he when you barely knew who you wanted.

A/N: Okay, hello it’s me again, heh. First off, lmao that was my first time writing smut so take it easy on me - don’t worry, i’ll probably never do that again and second, thank you so much for reading and for everyone who have been supporting this, it means the whole world to me and I appreciate y'all so much!

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @merelthehuman @babebenhardy @mrsmazzellotaylor [ thank you, thank you for the support! I can’t explain to you how smiley I got seeing your comments :’) Sorry, I couldn’t reply, it’s a side blog thing :( ]

[its-flicked-switch]

Sandcastles in the Sky

The after effects of chemo create a situation that, while first thought to be a hindrance, becomes exactly what is needed.

Set Post-Elegy s4e22.

Rating: Explicit

This story was originally written for the X-Files Easter FanFic Gift Exchange for @contrivedcoincidences6. Prompt: "I loovvveee early msr and/or pre-series. I also LOVE AUs, early series, cancer arc, pre-series, total au (loovvveee aus) gots to be msr and I'd appreciate some smut please!"

"The doctor said I was fine."

"I hope that's the truth."

"I'm going home."

Mulder kicks himself all the way home for letting her walk away. Scully may think she's hiding it well, and perhaps when it comes to everyone else she is. But not with him. He sees it. He sees the fear, sorrow, and avoidance. He sees every last bit.

He's well aware of the fact that making this about him only makes him more of an asshole, but that fact has done little to dampen the frustration that boils up from within him every time she dismisses the significance of what is happening as if it isn't his burden to bear as much as it is hers. She is so much more than his Watson. She is everything. And without her, he is nothing.

By the time he reaches his car, it's nearly 10:00 p.m. and Scully is gone. He considers driving by her place to check on her but thinks better of it. Regardless of how terrible she feels following her treatments, she never calls in or complains, even when it's quite apparent that she doesn't feel well and is absolutely exhausted. He wants more than anything to take care of her … to do something to soften the blow that his quest has inflicted on her health, but Scully has remained steadfast in her independence, keeping him at arm's length and refusing to let him in. Whether she's doing it to protect him or herself is unclear, but either way, it's disheartening.

He arrives at his apartment in a haze. Removing his jacket and slipping off his shoes, he doesn't bother to lock the door behind him as he collapses on the couch and buries himself in its familiarity. The bubbling hum of the aquarium helps to calm and lull him into a state of peaceful contentment that borders on sleep. But instead of succumbing to it, he fights it.

One would think that someone with his history and paranormal fixation would have nightmares, but he doesn't. In his dreams, Mulder doesn't see Armageddon or little green men. He sees something far worse. He sees what could have been.

He sees Samantha running along the beach behind their summer home in Quonochontaug.

He sees a healthy and vibrant Scully watching him, and a young boy building sandcastles in the sky alongside spaceships.

He sees a little girl with long strawberry blonde hair and crystal blue eyes who calls him daddy.

But Samantha is not in Quonochontaug, and he and Scully will never have children.

For this reason and so many others, Fox Mulder rarely sleeps. He doesn't even own a bed.

Rolling to his back, he pulls off his tie, untucks his shirt, and stares up at the ceiling. He's contemplating getting up to retrieve a tape from his collection when the cell in his pocket begins to ring.

"Agent Mulder."

"Mul — er?"

"Scully?"

He asks not because he isn't sure, but because there is something in her voice that is foreign to him.

"I … I'm hav—in' a little trouble," she says.

Holy fuck, he thinks. Is she drunk?

She's doing her best to hide it, slowing her words in an attempt to keep them from all slurring together, but if her first full sentence is any indication, she is most certainly more than a little under the influence.

"With what? Are you alright?" he asks, sitting up and slipping on his shoes in anticipation of leaving.

"Yeah," she replies, keeping her response short as she subdues a sniffle.

Dread and guilt flow through him as he realizes that the change in her voice isn't solely due to the indulgence of alcohol. She's been crying. Had his words about working against him sent her home in tears? The possibility immediately unsettles his stomach. His intention had been to encourage her to be more open and to no keep things from him, not to make her cry.

Fuck, he's an asshole.

"I'm okay," she insists, doing her best to clear her voice and sound as normal as possible. "I'm not sick. I just … I need … I would call my mom, but it's late and … I'm a bit out of it."

"No, I'm glad you called. What are you having trouble with, Scully? What's wrong?"

"I just … I can't …"

"You can't what?"

"It's stupid," she says, her voice dazed and muffled in a way that indicates to him that she's hanging her head or covering her face, if not both.

"If it's something you need, then it's not stupid," he says softly, encouraging her.

"The chemo," she says, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, "one of the side-effects is residual weakness and stiffness … especially in the upper extremities around the port."

The slow, precise, and guarded way that she is speaking now makes her sound almost normal. While she's clearly struggling to voice what's going on and why she has called, she's not as out of it as he first thought. In fact, the more she talks, the more lucid she sounds.

"Scully, I'm not sure that I understand—"

"I can't get my shirt off, Mulder."

OH.

"I would just cut it off, but … it's … it's a shirt Melissa bought for me, and I just can't … I'm sorry I—"

"Scully."

Her name comes out a bit louder and more commanding than he intends, so he immediately softens it.

"I'll be right over."

"Okay," she says quietly. "And … could you … could you use your key?"

The request surprises him, but he doesn't question it.

"Yeah … I can do that."

"Okay."

When she doesn't hang up and lets the silence hang, he hastens his movement, grabbing his go-bag, badge, gun, and jacket as he heads out the door.

Scully never asks for anything. Not really. So the fact that she has called and that she is hesitant to hang up the phone and be alone for the short period of time that it will take for him to reach her apartment immediately alerts him to the fact that this is about more than saving a shirt.

"Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"No … no … I'll see you in a few minutes," she says softly. "Thank you, Mulder."

Before he can respond, the line goes dead.

—

When he arrives at her apartment just before midnight, he hesitates briefly at her door. Scully had asked him to use his key to enter, but even with her permission, he's still inclined to knock and announce his arrival.

With her having been the victim of home invasions in the past, the last thing he wants to do is startle her.

"Scully? I'm here."

"Back here," he hears her say from somewhere in the back.

Assuming she's in her bedroom, he slips off his shoes, removes his jacket and places his bag, gun, and badge on her coffee table before proceeding to the back.

"Scully?" he asks again, slowing as he reaches the threshold of her door.

"In here."

What he sees as he enters her bedroom and looks into her bathroom breaks his heart. Scully is soaking wet with a large towel wrapped around her torso.

"I thought that if I got in a hot shower I could get it to loosen up enough to pull it off, but getting off a wet tee shirt is harder than I remember it being," she says, reading the question in his eyes.

"Interesting. I wouldn't have pegged you as being a wet tee shirt contest kind of girl, Scully," he says in an attempt to lighten the mood and put her at ease.

The smirk that plays across her lips as he speaks allows him to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Which shoulder is it?" he asks softly, taking on a more serious tone that relays his concern.

"The left."

"Is it tender to the touch?"

"A bit."

"Would massaging it help?"

"Maybe."

Closing the distance between them, he gestures for her to reposition herself on the toilet seat to give him better access to her shoulders. When his hands come into contact with her wet clothing, he's taken back how chilled her skin and clothing feels.

"Jesus, Scully. You must be freezing."

"The hot shower was a good idea until it wasn't."

"Here," he says, reaching for a towel hanging up alongside the tub and draping it over her right shoulder.

"Why don't we move into the bedroom? I think you'll be more comfortable sitting on the bed."

"Okay."

He starts to step away to give her some space to move, but as she stands and turns she loses her balance and falls into him.

"Muscle relaxer," she mumbles by way of explanation, clearly embarrassed by the fact that she's half dressed, soaking wet, and can barely stand.

Looking at her now, the pieces of the puzzle are beginning to come together. She's not drunk, she's in pain, and based on how she is stumbling about, she has either taken more than the recommended dose or has taken the medication for the first time. Given how much weight she has lost since starting chemo, it's entirely possible that whatever she took has impacted her more profoundly than she anticipated.

With him stabilizing her, they move quietly and with purpose into the bedroom where she settles awkwardly on the edge of her bed. As he watches her move and adjust herself accordingly, he can't help but notice how tightly she is clinging to her towel.

It hadn't occurred to him until that very moment that she was likely only wearing a tee shirt and bra when she got into the shower. And with her shirt being soaked, she probably hadn't bothered to put on anything else when she got out.

Suddenly, Mulder is very thankful that her back is to him.

In an attempt to distract himself away from what lies beneath, he begins to rub her shoulder, but quickly draws back when she flinches.

"No … no … it's okay …. it's just … tender."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, really. I think it will help. It's just uncomfortable."

Placing his hands back over her shoulder he begins to knead, but this time he doesn't put as much pressure through the tips of his fingers.

"Is this why you have been wearing mostly button-down shirts?"

His question appears to catch her off guard because she immediately peers over her shoulder at him and gives him a questioning look that indicates that he's been paying more attention to her than she has given him credit for.

"The button-downs are easier. My shoulder has felt almost normal for the past few days, so I thought I would be okay to wear this but … apparently not."

"How many shirts have you cut?"

"Just one."

"You could have called me."

"I didn't care about that one, so it was easier just to cut it."

"Well, it does feel like it's loosening up a bit. What time did you take the muscle relaxer?"

"A little after 11:00."

He wants to ask her how many she took but thinks better of it. The last thing he wants to do is piss her off or make her regret calling him to begin with.

"It appears to have loosened up everything except my shoulder. This …" she says, pausing and wincing as his fingers make their way over a particularly tender spot.

"Sorry," he says, lightening his touch.

"This is the first time I've taken them. I've had them for a little over a month, but haven't wanted to take them knowing I could be called out in the middle of the night for a case."

"Scully, why didn't you talk to me about this? If you were in pain, you should have just …"

"I'd rather feel the pain than feel completely out of it."

"Do you feel completely out of it? Because you don't sound completely out of it."

"I feel … numb, tired, and like I shouldn't be up walking around."

"Well, that much is clear," he says smirking and nodding his head towards the bathroom causing her to chuckle in response.

She's relaxed now. The tense embarrassment that he saw in her face initially is gone.

"How do you want to do this, Scully? I think we may be able to get it off now, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

To this, she blushes a bit and turns her head back forwards.

"It's nothing that you haven't seen before, Mulder."

She's not wrong, but this is different, and they both know it."

"Or have you forgotten?"

It's difficult to tell if there is any actual heat behind her words since she's facing away from him, but the tone of her voice and tension building in her body as she reaches down to tighten her hold on the towel clues him in to the fact that there has been a shift in the paradigm. He's honestly surprised that she's mentioned Antarctica.

Mulder is a lot of things, but unobservant isn't one of them. He's watched her fidget with her clothing and caught her lingering glances along reflective surfaces as they pass. It's subtle, yet blatantly obvious that she is uncomfortable with the amount of weight she has lost, and the last thing he wants her to be as he undresses her is self-conscious. So for this reason, and this reason alone, he is candid.

"Oh, I haven't forgotten."

He keeps his hands on her as he speaks so he can feel her reaction to his words. When she does turn her head to give him her eyes, he does everything in his power to relay how much he respects her — not wanting his words to be translated as being perverse.

Without words, they begin to rearrange her wet shirt in order to pull it off. Her left shoulder and arm are still bit stiff, but between the two of them, they are able to twist it around without stretching the shirt too terribly. She still sitting with her back to him, but he can feel her wince at the end as they work together to pull it over her head and off of her arm.

"Sorry," he says as he helps her bring her arm back down and tosses her shirt to the side.

Bringing his hands back to rest over her shoulders, he moves fingers firmly across her skin in an attempt to relax her, noting that the clasp to her bra is in the back. She hasn't asked him to undo it, but he knows after helping her with her shirt that she is not going to be able to undo it herself unless she removes the straps and flips it around. Lowering his hands to work along her middle back, he works his way down until his hands are alongside the clasp. Fearing that talking about it will only serve to make it more awkward, he waits for her to indicate that she is ready.

When she gives him a slight nod, he undoes it and runs his hand down her back.

"Do you want me to grab you another shirt or your robe?"

"No, I want to take a shower."

"Are … are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I think I'll be alright," she says, removing the bra completely and placing it off to the side as she rearranges her towel to cover her breasts.

Even with her back to him, he can still see enough of her body to make his dick harden, which immediately fills him with shame. He should turn his back to give her some privacy, but he doesn't. He can't take his eyes off of her. Even with the weight she has lost, she's still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

"Okay," he says, snapping himself out of his trance and taking a step back.

He's about to step out and give her some privacy when she turns to stand and stumbles. Cursing, Mulder makes his way to her side instantly, narrowly managing to catch her before she hits the floor.

The realization that she's dropped the towel hits them both at the same time. She gasps, her eyes widening in shock as his hand grazes over her breasts and settles along the bare skin of her torso as he works to pull her body up and stabilize her. Now, with her standing directly before him completely nude, there is no way for either of them to reach down and pick up the towel without creating contact. Doing his best to distract himself away from the fact that he is holding a very naked Scully, Mulder keeps his eyes glued to hers as he guides them back towards the bed, grabbing the extra towel they had brought in from the bathroom.

No words are spoken as she takes it and covers herself.

Her face is difficult to read. It's clear that she's embarrassed, but there is something else there too. Something he can't quite place.

Not wanting to linger too long in dangerous waters, he states the obvious in hopes that she will just lay down and rest.

"Scully, I'm not sure that taking a shower right now is a good idea. The last thing you need is to fall and hit your head or break something. Let me grab you a shirt or something. You can take one in the morning," he says, trying desperately to not think about how soft her skin is and how amazing it felt to touch her breast.

"No. I feel gross. I want to shower."

"Scully, you can hardly stand … "

"A bath then."

"Is it really that critical that you—"

She doesn't have to interrupt him to silence him. The look she gives him says it all.

"Fine, but I'm running the bathwater, and you're going to stay right here."

"Mulder …"

"Scully."

Now it's his turn to give her a look. He's more than willing to indulge just about anything when it comes to her, but her safety is not up for debate. If she's going to insist on taking a bath, he's going to draw it for her and help get her settled. He can tell that the idea does not necessarily enchant her, but he also knows that she's well aware of the fact that she is no condition to insist otherwise. Her mind is sound; her body just isn't cooperating.

"Fine."

Retreating to the bathroom, Mulder turns on the water and begins to shuffle through her bathroom cabinets in search of a bath salt or soap that would help her relax while also serving to give her a bit of privacy. He doesn't trust her to call for him when she's finished, and she's not going to be able to get in or out without stumbling.

Fuck.

How in the world is he going to get through this without his hard-on being on full display? It's not like she's drunk and so out of it that she won't remember his dick poking at her through his clothes as he helps her settle into the tub. If he doesn't find something to help cover her a bit as she bathes he's going to come in his pants.

Spotting some bubble bath in the cabinet under the sink, he grabs it and pours a liberal amount into the running water as he checks the temperature. Not wanting it to be too hot, he adds a bit of cold and tests it again. Satisfied that it won't burn her, he returns to the bedroom where he finds her sitting exactly where he left her.

Without a word, he helps her stand and guides her into the bathroom where they are both greeted with a sight that takes them both by surprise.

Thankfully, Scully begins to laugh.

"FUCK."

"You poured it in didn't you?" she asks.

"Yeah," he says, walking her through the mess of overflowing bubbles and positioning her to where she can safely sit on the toilet seat beside the tub while he fruitlessly fights the massive mountain of bubbles cascading out of the bathtub and onto the floor.

"It's the good stuff," she tells him, nodding towards the open bottle sitting on the counter. "You only need a cap full."

"Well, I think it's fair to say I used more than a cap."

"Clearly."

He turns to face her, expecting her to be irritated. Instead, he finds that the color has returned to her cheeks. For the first time in weeks, she's genuinely laughing and smiling. He's always thought she was beautiful, but as she sits before him clad in only a towel with bubbles floating around her, she's breathtakingly beautiful. Painfully so.

"Why the bubbles, Mulder?" she asks.

The teasing smile playing on her lips is enough to let him know that she is well aware of the prominent effect her state of undress is having on him.

"I thought it might help you relax … and give you a bit of privacy."

Using the side of the tub and the countertop to stabilize herself, she stands, letting the towel fall to the floor as she does.

This time, he doesn't have the strength to keep his eyes up. With her permission, he takes her in, and this time he does so thoroughly. Extenuating circumstances prevented him from fully appreciating her in Antarctica, but nothing of the sort is stopping him now.

If it weren't for the circumstances at play, he would be lunging forward and backing her up against the wall, but he stops himself short of doing so because no matter what their bodies are saying, now is not the time.

His body longs for hers more than it has longed for anything else in this world, but he doesn't want it to happen because she thinks she's dying. As much as he wants to be the one to relieve the sexual tension that is so clearly coiled up inside of her, he can't let it be just about that. Not with them. He can't be her one-night Ed Jerse.

Taking her hand, he guides her to the tub and helps her step inside, shutting off the water as she lays back and settles herself under the bubbles.

"Sorry," he says, settling himself alongside the tub swatting at the bubbles floating around in the air.

"Don't be."

The soft smile that plays across her lips as she settles her head on the rim of the tub calms him. Whether it's the drugs, the late hour, the company, or a combination of the three he cannot be sure, but he's certainly not complaining.

He is, however, curious.

When he saw earlier in the evening, she was closed off to him and insistent that she do this alone, which is precisely why he had pressed her and accused her of working against him. Had his words to her at the scene really impacted her that deeply? Or was something else at play?

"Not that I'm complaining, but why not call your Mom? You said you were out of it on the phone, and to be honest, when I first heard your voice, I thought you were … but you're not."

She turns to face him briefly, giving his question pause and musing over her words carefully before allowing them surface and give weight to the air between them.

"I don't want her to see," she says softly.

Despite the quiet tone she has taken, her words are firm and steady, filling the room with an uncomfortable silence that he is tempted to fill. But sensing there is more, he remains silent, fiddling with the bubbles alongside the outer lip of the tub as he waits. The ball is in her court. Letting him in has to be her choice.

"When I'm working, it's easier for both of us, because it almost makes things normal. She's used to me working all the time."

"Scully …"

"She was sitting right next to Melissa when she coded. She shouldn't have to watch me die too. I can't … I just can't do that to her."

"You're not going to die, Scully."

"But I am dying, Mulder. I know you don't want to see it or deal with it, but I am. It's happening. You want me to let you in, but I don't think you understand what that means."

"Do you?"

"I wouldn't change a day," she says, repeating the words she uttered to him months earlier.

If he weren't already hopelessly in love with her, the way she's looking at him now would have certainly sealed the deal. Lifting her hand up to the edge of tub she seeks his, intertwining her fingers with his.

For the next few minutes, no words are spoken as they gaze into each other's eyes.

She breaks the moment, but not the mood when she lets go of his hand and moves to sit up, grabbing a bar of Ivory soap from the other side of the tub.

Bubbles cling to her body as she rises, allowing her to maintain some semblance of modesty, but as she runs the bar of soap across her shoulders, chest, and arms, it becomes clear that modesty is not high on her priority list.

"Can I ask you something, Mulder?" she asks, snapping him out of his longing leer. "Something personal?"

"You can ask me anything," he tells her, lowering his hand to rub across his hard-on as he continues to watch.

"Do you … do you ever wish things were different?"

"What things?" he asks, watching her closely.

Silence fills the air as her boldness wains and her eyes drop, he shifts to position himself closer, catching her eyes and asking her again.

"What things, Scully?"

"Like … do you ever think about going a different direction? About having and wanting something normal?"

The last thing Mulder wants to do is break the seriousness of the moment, but he can't help but chuckle at the idea of him and normal being in the same sentence.

"Scully, of all things for which I am certain … I am certain that my definition of normal will not hold up against the Webster version, so you're going to have to be a bit more specific. Are you talking about work? About doing something other than the X Files?"

"No … not necessarily."

"Then what?"

"I'm talking about life outside of work."

"Okay," he says, giving her a look at the encourages her to continue.

"Do you ever miss it, Mulder?"

"Miss what, Scully?"

"The touch of a lover?"

Just when he thought he might potentially survive the evening without coming in his pants, she has to go and ask him a question like this.

Leaning deeply into the cabinets behind him, he contemplates how he is going to respond. The answer is a no-brainer. Of course, he does. But he doesn't desire a quick roll in the hay. Sex is no longer the only thing he desires.

"Or do the videos do it for you?"

The mere mention of his video collection makes him smirk, knowing damn well she would be far less likely to prod him about it if she knew that every video he owned starred a petite red-head.

When he watches, he never sees them. He only ever sees her.

"Mulder?"

Not wanting to make her nervous or uncomfortable by remaining silent for too long, he decides to be candid. She is, so he will follow suit.

"The videos relieve tension, but my hand is a poor substitute for the real thing."

"Well, there's a long list of secretaries that wouldn't mind your company. I've seen the way they look at you," she says, tilting her head to meet his eyes again.

Despite how turned on he is by the turn the conversation has taken, he can't help but appreciate just how surreal it is. He just finished settling her naked body into a bathtub after disrobing her, yet, here she is, trying to shift him towards an alleged long list of other women who wouldn't mind his company.

"And how do they look at me, Scully?"

"Like they would be more than willing to act out what's on those videos."

"And just what do you think is on those videos?" he asks, now curious.

What does Dana Scully think Fox Mulder likes?

"I imagine it's a fairly standard guy script," she says vaguely, a soft pink hue spreading up through her neck and across her cheeks that is definitely not an artifact of the warm water.

"And what might that entail?"

Part of him feels guilty for digging in and not letting it go, especially given that she's taken medication that has undoubtedly loosened her tongue, but now that she's brought this to the forefront he really wants to know.

"Oral … Doggie …"

"Is that what you think I like?"

She's quiet for a moment, gauging his expression as her body shifts slightly underneath the water.

It suddenly occurs to him that he hasn't seen her hands in quite some time. The realization makes him impossibly harder than what he already is.

"It's what most men want," she says evenly.

And just like that, Mulder hates every man that has ever laid hands on her that much more. If that's what she believes all men want, then she certainly hasn't been loved or treasured. All she's ever been is fucked. The realization both sickens and enrages him, but he doesn't dare let it show. Not tonight. Not like this.

"I'm not most men."

To this, she chuckles, turning her head to the side and looking straight into his eyes.

"If you're referring to your infatuation with alien life-forms and the paranormal, then I would have to agree, but primitive drive is primitive drive, Mulder. It only has one objective."

"What makes you think my primitive drive would involve oral and doggie?"

What was a pink hue, is now a full-fledged red. He knows he's pushing boundaries, but he can't leave it like this. He can't walk away having her believe that his fantasies align with her previous experiences.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," she says, suddenly finding something of interest within the bubbles as she averts her eyes.

"I'm not," he says, leaning forward and touching the side of her face to redirect her eyes back to his. "Scully, I do miss a woman's touch, but casual sex doesn't interest me. It hasn't interested me in a long time."

"Mulder … what happened with Jerse … it … it wasn't what you think," she says quietly.

Fuck.

"Scully, I wasn't … that wasn't an attack on—"

"I know."

Sitting up tall, she pulls the bar of soap above the surface of the water and places it back on the ledge.

"It felt good to be wanted … to have someone's desire so blatantly pressed against me."

The gentlemen lurking inside of him knows that he should stop her and tell her that whatever happened isn't any of his business and that it doesn't matter. But he remains silent because it does matter, and he does want to know.

"We … we fooled around, but … he didn't … we didn't."

Unable to hide his surprise, he gives her a questioning look.

"His tattoo … it started bleeding, and by the time we got it stopped and cleaned up he was … different … off …. and didn't, uh, seem all that interested anymore."

Of all the things he expected to have gone down on the night she spent with Ed Jerse, this was not among them. She had been willing, and in his state of psychosis, he had been unable to perform.

Suddenly, a lot of things begin to make sense to Mulder.

Scully had let him believe that she had spent a passionate night in the arms of a stranger because the truth didn't make much of ballot. While she may have appreciated his jealousy, he no longer believes that making him jealous was her primary objective. Leaving his assumptions unchecked had been more of an act of self-preservation. She and Jerse had fooled around, and then Jerse had given her his shirt and turned her away. Rather than seeing the situation for what it was, Scully had walked away from the encounter feeling unwanted and unattractive. The fact that Jerse had strangled and beat the hell out of her the following morning certainly hadn't helped matters.

"Scully, Jerse was psychotic. Him not …"

He stops himself short of saying wanting you, deciding instead to allow her to fill in the blank.

"It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. I can assure you that."

It's more clear to him now than ever that her discontent with her self-image has just as much to do with that night as it does her weight loss. Fucking Jerse.

"Regardless," she says, taking a weighted breath. "You were right. It was careless. He could have killed me."

"But you didn't know that," he says to her softly. "Not at the time."

Now having heard the truth about what had transpired that night, he's filled with remorse for how he treated her when she returned. She was free to see whomever she pleased. She wasn't his. He desperately wanted her to be, but she wasn't. Not in the way he wanted her to be anyway.

Scully had wanted to feel something. Something real. Something primitive. And instead of being her friend and being compassionate, he had acted like a selfish, jealous asshole.

"It's okay to want something quick, easy, and uncomplicated, Scully. I'm sorry that I made you feel otherwise."

His apology earns him a shadow of a smile as she picks at her pruning fingers.

"What if all it taught me was that I didn't want something quick, easy, and uncomplicated?"

"How normal of you," he says, a chuckle rumbling in his chest and a smile spreading across his face.

Flicking bubbles at his face, she joins in on his laughter and gives him her eyes. The dark hue within them is something new. He knows he should look away to keep from making her uncomfortable, but he can't. He's too entranced — swallowed whole by the deep end of the ocean.

"The water's getting cool," she comments, fidgeting under his gaze.

"I'll grab you a fresh towel."

Springing into action, he turns away from her quickly in an attempt to hide the effect she has on him. The guise of privacy that the bubbles provided has dwindled significantly over the course of the last 20 to 30 minutes. He hopes like hell the bath has helped to ground and settle her because he's not sure that his body can withstand drying her with embarrassing both of them.

"If there aren't any more under there, there should be more in the hall closet."

"Okay," he says, looking under the cabinet. "Looks like we are in luck though," he says, handing her the clean towel as he helps her stand and step out of the tub. "Although, I may need to grab a few more to deal with all of this."

The bubbles have made a mess of her bathroom floor, leaving it wet in some places and sticky in others.

"Once I help get you settled, I'll come and clean this up."

"It's okay, Mulder. I can get it in the morning."

"No. I'll take care of it."

Unsure of how stable she currently is, he stands before her awkwardly and waits for her to give him some sort of indication on what she needs him to do.

"I think I can handle it from here … thank you, Mulder."

"Are you sure? I don't want you to fall."

"I'll sit," she said nodding towards to toilet. "Would you, uh, mind grabbing me a shirt and some pants out of my dresser though? I keep them in the bottom drawer to the right."

"Yeah, no problem."

Once she's seated, he slips out of the bathroom and makes his way over to her dresser to retrieve her clothing. Opening the bottom drawer to the right, he finds numerous oversized tee shirts. Most of which appear to be from her college days, but there is one in particular that jumps out at him — because it's his.

It's an old Knicks shirt that he has been looking for off and on for several months now. When he had been unable to locate it after cleaning out his car and gym locker, he had just assumed that he had left it in a rental car or hotel room somewhere. He never thought to ask Scully if she had seen it.

While it's possible that she washed it and forgot about it, he highly doubts it, given its prominence in its current location. Grabbing his shirt and pair of her flannel pajama bottoms, he returns to the bathroom, knocking three times as he enters.

The expression that crosses her face when she sees that he's discovered his shirt in her pajama drawer is priceless. She had not sent him to the bottom drawer on the right to make this discovery, but now that he has she is grappling for an explanation that will be less explicit than the truth. The truth being - Scully has been sleeping in his shirt because it provided her comfort, and she liked the feel of it against her skin. He doesn't have to ask. He can see it in her eyes and the expression on her face.

If the circumstances were different, he would let her squirm, but tonight he's going to let her off the hook, injecting humor into an awkward exchange in a way that only he can.

"If I would have known you had a hankering for the Knicks, Scully, I would have bought you a tee shirt a long time ago."

Blushing, she accepts the shirt from his outstretched hand.

"Thank you, Mulder. I—"

"It's yours."

The effect his words have on her hits him like a brick. At first, he's not sure, but when she drops her towel and reveals her body to him once again, he's certain.

Scully is aroused. Painfully so.

The dark hue of blue within her eyes and pert nipples revealing the depth of her desire.

"Scully, I …"

"You can touch me, Mulder."

Taking a step closer to her, he runs his fingers down the lengths of her arms causing them both to shiver as he gazes at her body.

"I … you have no idea how much I want to … how beautiful you are … but … I can't, not like this. Not tonight. Not when you've been in pain and are on medication that could cloud your judgment. I would never forgive myself if you woke up and felt like I took advantage of you or the situation."

"My judgment isn't clouded … it's emboldened, and it's not meds talking, Mulder. It's me. Life can be … short. We spend so much time just … running. I want something normal, but not from a stranger. I was willing to get it from a stranger when I thought that was the only way I could get, but … it wasn't ever really what I wanted."

"What do you really want then, Scully?"

"Something deep, complicated, and dangerous," she says, swallowing thickly. "Something passionate and loving … something real … that will make me feel alive with the one person I desire."

"Then we both want to the same thing," he says, his voice gruff with desire.

They both lunge at the same time.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he pulls her body firmly against his and drops his head to capture her lips. When his hands raise to cup her breasts she gasps, opening her mouth and allowing him to explore her fully. Even with the weight she's lost, she still fills his hands. Touching her feels better than he ever could have imagined. No video, fantasy, or wet dream even remotely compares.

Not wanting to consummate their relationship on a wet bathroom floor or countertop, he begins to guide her towards her bedroom where he can lay her out and properly explore. By the time he's done, there will be little room for her to doubt her appeal and desirability. He is going to devour her in the best possible way, and he's not going to stop until he takes her breath away.

By the time they reach the bed she's unbuttoned his shirt and his slacks. He breaks their kiss momentarily to remove his undershirt, but immediately returns his lips hers, devouring her and stealing the breath from her lungs as he presses her bare chest against his for the first time. The moan he swallows as her breasts rub against his nearly makes him come on the spot. Scully is going to be vocal in her pleasure. The realization makes him impossibly harder than what he already is and fills him with the desire to hear just how vocal she actually will be.

Breaking their kiss, he halts her wandering hands and looks down into her eyes. Having blocked her hands from reaching their intended destination, he lowers his to cup the rounded cheeks of ass, squeezing and kneading as he draws his fingers closer to the place he desires most.

"Are you sure, Scully? Absolutely sure?" he murmurs in her ear.

Grasping his hand, she guides him to her center, allowing him to feel how soaking wet she is.

"Is that sure enough for you?" she mumbles, rubbing her nose across the stubble of his chin as she presses her breasts into his chest.

The discovery of just how soaking wet she is strips away at Mulder's resolve and pokes at the primitive beast within him, driving him forward.

"I think our bodies know exactly what they want, but do our minds? This can't … it can't just be a thing, Scully," he says, swallowing thickly. "You mean too much to me. I can't be your Ed Jerse. I won't survive it."

"Oh, you're no Ed Jerse, Mulder. You're deep, loving, dangerous, and passionate," she whispers, repeating back her earlier words as she runs her lips across his chest.

When his fingers begin to move, she drops her forehead against his chest and watches as his fingers explore her sex and circle her entrance. The realization that she likes to watch is his undoing.

"Get on the bed, Scully."

Mulder quickly removes his socks and slacks but opts leaves his boxers in place as he crawls onto the bed to hover over her.

FUCK, she's beautiful.

And now, in this very moment, he has a chance to make her his. Not Ed's. Not Jack's. His.

"Mulder?" she asks, looking down at the tenting erection still covered by his boxers.

"To keep me in check."

"In check?"

"So that I can do this," he says, lowering his hands and lips to explore her body one section at a time.

While his mouth explores her neck, his hands fondle her breasts, rubbing the tips of his fingers across her nipples as his licks, nips, and kisses his way to down fully explore them with his mouth. When his mouth reaches her breasts, his hands lower to caress her thighs and ass. He is touching her everywhere except for the very place she desires him the most.

"Please," she gasps, raising her pelvis and rubbing her wet center against his stomach. "Touch me, Mulder."

Smiling, he sweeps his tongue across her nipple and shifts his hand to rub his fingers through her center, thoroughly soaking them in her arousal before raising them to circle her clit.

"Oh … fuck," she moans, catching him off guard.

He had suspected she would be vocal after the kiss, but the f-bomb had not been something he had anticipated. His Catholic, conservatively dressed partner of four years is completely naked beneath him, throwing her head back, cursing, and begging him for more. Removing his lips from her breasts, he looks down between them and watches her hips chase his hand as he picks up the pace.

As much as he's enjoying the erotic image their bodies make, he knows his body will fuck him over if he doesn't move things along. He can feel, hear, and smell her arousal, but it's not enough. Lowering his body, he pulls his fingers away and replaces them with his mouth causing her to squeal in surprise.

Scully immediately opens her legs to him more fully, accommodating his hungry mouth as he explores her sex just as he did her mouth. The noises coming from her now only serve to increase the level of euphoria in the air. It's the most sexually gratifying experience of his life, and he's not even inside of her yet.

"Fuck, Mulder … I'm gonna—"

And she does. Liberally.

It's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his life.

But he doesn't stop, he keeps going until it's clear that she's done and can take no more.

The picture she makes beneath him with her chest heaving as she gasps for air makes his heart flutter and his hips buck. This woman is going to fucking end him.

Pulling down his boxers, he exposes himself to her fully for the first time, rubbing himself up and down her slit and coating himself in her arousal as she watches. As he works his body against hers, her eyes dilate more fully, turning a shade of midnight blue with speckles of green that he's never seen before.

He's so mesmerized by her eyes that he's taken completely by surprise when she flips him over on his back.

Not that he minds.

The visual of her looming over his arousal with lust filled eyes nearly makes him come on the spot, but when he reads the destination in her eyes, he halts her movement.

"As nice as that would be, I wouldn't survive it."

"Maybe next time then."

Next time. Sweet Jesus, Joseph, and Mary …

Bracing herself above him with one arm she reaches down to guide him with the other.

"Shoulder feel better?" he asks playfully as she aligns them, poising him at her entrance.

"Oh, several parts of me are about to feel a whole lot better."

Any response he may have made is completely swallowed by the groan that leaves his body when she lowers herself onto him, taking him in one inch at a time until she is buried to the hilt.

She's so fucking tight that he can hardly stand it.

He wants to speak.

He wants to tell her how absolutely gorgeous she is and how fucking amazing that she feels. But words escape him as she readjusts her hands to bracket herself above him, moving on and off of him as she rotates her hips.

Holy fuck, she's talented.

"Scully … fuck," he heaves. "If you keep doing that I'm not going to last very long."

"That's sort of the idea," she grunts, gyrating against him roughly in order get more pressure through her clit as she rides him.

"I'm … we're not … using anything … fuck, Scully."

"I don't need anything. Not with you," she moans, grasping one of his hands and raising it to her breast as she continues to move, increasing her pace as she chases release once again.

Lowering his other hand to circle her clit, he watches the picture forming above him with awe. Scully is coming completely undone riding his dick, and it's the most amazing, beautiful, and erotic thing that he has ever seen.

She comes the second time with a scream, and this time, he can't hold back any longer. Flipping them over, he raises her thighs to rest alongside his chest as he drives into her with wild abandonment, coming in copious spurts as he moans her name.

When it's done, they are both soaking wet and heaving for breath.

Raising up on his elbows to relieve her of some of his body weight, he looks down at her with longing. Looking into her eyes now, Mulder immediately knows one fact with absolute certainty.

There will never be anyone else. Scully is it for him.

They caress, fondle, and whisper in the dark until his body is ready to take her again, and he does — this time, slowly. It's glorious, wonderful, and invigorating. He has never felt more alive than what he feels when he is inside of her.

But as she drifts to sleep in his arms, the cold light of day begins to shine through with a sobering reality. While she may be alive and vibrant in his arms now, she's been given a death sentence. A sentence he can no longer ignore.

He has to find a cure.

He doesn't care who he has to kill, beat, or cheat. He will not watch her die.

For there are sandcastles to be built in the sky.

[pasta-abomination]

27 and 56 for the trope meme, any pairing you like :)

27 - Sick/injured56 - Awful first meeting

Pairing: Kara/Alex

//

“You need to go to a hospital.” Alex says firmly. “Can’t. I… ‘m not human. They can’t… find out.” The sick girl (alien?)—Kara—stiffens abruptly, tries to sit up. “They can’t find out.” She’s too weak to make it all the way up. Weak enough that she has all the resistance of a leaf when Alex presses her down gently by the shoulder. Alien. Alex briefly considers that she might be hallucinating from the fever. But honestly, as hot as she feels? If she were human, she’d be in shock, or a coma. Kara’s stirring again. “I need… need to get out of here…” “What you have, is it dangerous to humans?” Kara doesn’t answer for a moment, but her head moves over so she’s looking at Alex. “Can I catch it?” Kara shakes her head. “Don’t know. Can’t get sick on Earth. Shouldn’t.” Alex frowns. This is wandering into hallucination territory. “Let me call someone.” She fishes her phone out and hits Maggie’s speed dial. When she turns back around, phone on her ear, Kara’s slung her legs off the bench and is trying to stand up. She’s wobbly as shit, though. “Whoa, whoa, easy.” Alex ducks under Kara’s arm and slings it across her shoulders. She’s taller than Alex. Heavy like she’s made of bricks, too. “I need… to go.” The words come out of Alex’s mouth right as Maggie picks up, like she’s channeling her friend’s patience over the line. “Hun, the only place you’re gonna end up is on the ground. Lean on me, okay? There we go.” Jesus, she is heavy, compared to a human of a similar size. “Got your hands full, Danvers?” “Shut up.” “You called me.” Right. “I’ve got a pretty sick individual on my hands.” “Aren’t you the EMT?” “Yeah, but she’s not the kind of patient I usually practice on. If you get my drift.” She adds awkwardly. “Yeah, and so did anyone else in the room with you.” There’s a rustle. “I’ll see what I can do.” “Great. Where should I meet you?” Another rustle. “Um. Bar?” The dive bar. “Isn’t that a bit counterintuitive place to bring a sick person?” “Upstairs, dumbass. M’gann has a couple rooms up above. Meet at the back door. I’ll give her a heads-up.” Alex nods. “On my way.” “*Wait—where’s she from?*” Alex turns her attention to the alien leaning heavily on her. “Hey, babe, Kara—where’re you from?” Kara frowns. “North.” Her voice is faint. “Argo City.” Well, that sounds promising for the hallucination argument. “Right, got it. What… planet?” Kara manages a reply. Alex blinks. “I’m sorry?” “Krypton.” Kara repeats again, louder. “Um, Mags, if you didn’t catch that,” Alex’s voice is a little shaky, “She says she’s from Krypton.” There’s a thud like Maggie dropped something. “What?” “Yeah. Know anyone qualified to practice medicine on Superman?” Maggie swears. “I don’t know. Our guy’s good. Can’t say it’s our usual class of patient, though. See you there.” //Kara, it turns out, has the world’s shittiest case of Argo fever. “She should be immune because of her reaction to the sun,” The healer says, “But something’s weakened her healing factor. This should boost her immune system and help her absorb the sunlight better.” Thankfully, Argo fever isn’t contagious to humans—yet. Which means Alex is going to have a houseguest. Really, Maggie almost volunteered, but Alex jumped ahead of her. Maggie gave her an odd look—she makes rounds, checks up on people in the community, it would make sense if Maggie put her up while she healed—but didn’t object. She’s asking for you, Alex. Me? Yeah, Alex wasn’t about to let anyone else take this on. Old crush from her days as a baby EMT or not. //Kara is miserable for almost two weeks. Alex has to handle her work situation, passing information from Kara to some Winn guy. A lady named Cat called—or maybe a secretary, Alex isn’t sure—and Kara insisted on taking the phone, speaking in a rough, effortful voice that made it clear just how not alright she still was. Whatever the Cat lady said to her, it clearly was upsetting. A shadow settled over Kara’s whole body. There was lots of “Yes, Ms. Grant,” “No, Ms. Grant”. “I’ll be sure to pick one up, Ms. Grant.” She looked tired-but-holding-it-together, until she hung up the phone, and then she looked absolutely exhausted in a way she hadn’t looked before, her face almost ashen. Alex isn’t sure what that means for someone of Kara’s species. “Everything okay?” Alex asks, watching Kara flop bonelessly back down onto her back on the couch. “A-Okay.” She gets a weary, sarcastic thumbs-up in response. “Still have a job. ‘S all that matters.” Alex snorts softly. “Everything else?” “My powers aren’t back, yet, or I’d be healed. Or at least, not totally back.” Kara’s eyes close, and it’s obvious that that’s a concern for her. “Hey,” Alex says, “You got really sick. For all we know, without your powers, that might’ve killed you.” Kara looks at her solemnly for a moment. Then, her lips twist in an approximation of a smile. “Ever the optimist.” Alex huffs out a laugh. “One of my many fine qualities.” Kara throws a pillow at her weakly. It nearly knocks Alex off the couch. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve got some of your abilities back,” Alex retorts. A stuck-out tongue is her only answer. //Alex gets used to bringing Kara extra food. After the third day, Kara tries to hand Alex her card. After the fifth day, Alex accepts. (Turns out sick Kryptonians are expensive to feed. And they have absolutely no appetite whatsoever, so they sit around mopey with their stomach growling but eye any food presented to them with a deep suspicion.) Finally, though, she brings home some random Chinese takeout from the place a couple blocks from her apartment. Kara struggles up. “Oh my god. Is that potstickers?” “Among other things,” Alex insists, vaguely offended on behalf of the orange chicken. Kara’s eyes light up with hunger, and something in Alex relaxes. “I see you’ve got your appetite back,” she observes. “I always have an appetite for potstickers.” “Leave one for me, okay?” Alex happens to like them. “… Oops?” “Oh my god. Did you inhale them?” Alex only turned around for maybe five seconds and the box of potstickers is empty. Kara looks chagrined. “Maybe?”//The first time Alex falls asleep on the couch with Kara, she’s been up for almost thirty hours straight, and she was going to binge “Orange Is The New Black”, goddammit. Kara had already seen all of it, and was bursting at the seams to talk about the new season with her. Once Alex had showered and had a couple bites of food, though, a wave of warmth overcame her—Kara’s residual body heat, being home, being clean, being safe, and fed. She leaned softly into Kara, and Kara turned to let her lean closer, making a soft sound of surprise that Alex didn’t bother to interpret. Kara was warm, so warm. She felt so familiar. It was nice to not be alone, Alex thought. It was nice to not be lonely. The next thing she knew, her eyes were fluttering open, and it was four-thirty in the morning. The TV was on mute. Her head was leaned against Kara’s chest. Kara’s hair fell over Alex’s head and face. Alex moved the stray hairs that had ended up near her lips, and settled close to her again. The next time she was aware, she could’ve sworn that Kara was stroking her hair, saying something soft. Alex still wasn’t awake enough to be upset about it.

[whumphoarder]

Face God and Walk Backwards Into Hell

Summary: Peter is lactose intolerant—and arguably masochistic—and this somehow becomes Tony’s personal cross to bear.

(In the same universe as Spider-Man’s Very Mundane Kryptonite, but the stories can be read independently) 

Word count: 1,763

Genre: Fluffy illness, humor, sickfic

Link to read on A03

After initially finding out that the kid was lactose intolerant, Tony started doing everything in his power to help Peter avoid dairy. He stocked three kinds of plant-based milks at the compound—soy, almond, and cashew. If he was ordering pizza for team training nights, he would always make sure to have non-dairy pasta and salad options on the side. Chips and pretzels were served with hummus or bean dips rather than sour cream based ones, and Tony even tried out a vegan cheese version of his mother’s beloved lasagna recipe.

All these precautions would have likely been very effective, if only Peter wasn’t such a little shit.

At first, Tony assumed the kid just made a mistake. That was what he figured when he shuffled into the kitchen at one a.m. on a training weekend to discover the teenager standing with his back to the entrance, rifling through his cabinets.

Tony stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest in amusement. “Looking for something?”

Peter startled and spun around, eyes wide. “Whoa, what are you doing up, Mr. Stark?”

“Insomnia’s a bitch,” Tony scoffed. “But I could ask the same about you. Shouldn’t you be wiped from your training session with Cap earlier?”

Peter’s stomach growled loudly in response, causing his unusually pale cheeks to flush slightly.

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Are you hungry? If you need a snack, try the fridge.”

With a small groan, Peter snaked an arm around his middle. “Uh, no thanks,” he said with a grimace. “I’m not feeling so great, actually.”

“Stomach ache?” Tony guessed.

Peter looked embarrassed, but nodded anyway. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I just was seeing if you had anything down here I could take for it.”

“You mean like Pepto, or…?” Tony asked with a frown.

Peter shook his head. “That doesn’t usually work very well. May has these like, enzyme pill things that sometimes help...?” he said hopefully.

Tony quirked his head in thought. “Pepper might have something,” he mused. “She’s fully on the herbal supplement bandwagon.” He crossed the kitchen over to a drawer next to the fridge and opened it to reveal a few dozen small bottles.

With some assistance from FRIDAY, he quickly identified the most-likely-to-be-helpful candidate—some kind of natural probiotic—and dosed out two pills for the kid.

“Thanks,” Peter muttered before knocking them back with some water. “Ugh. I’m never eating ice cream again,” he moaned.

Tony’s forehead wrinkled up in confusion. “When did you get ice cream?”

Peter gave him a pained smile. “Uh… after training? Clint took me out—he said someone should celebrate the fact that I laid out Cap twice.”

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Tony said with a huff. “Which is why I served everyone those vegan eclairs that I special ordered because, you know”—he shot Peter a pointed look—“they don’t have dairy.”

“He, uh, he said someone should celebrate it with a real dessert,” Peter mumbled.

“I’m hurt, Pete,” Tony mocked.

Peter’s gaze dropped to his feet. “If it makes you feel any better, I got Stark Raving Hazelnut.”

“Why would it make me feel better to have my name attached to your gastrointestinal distress?” Tony asked sarcastically.

Peter huffed out a quick laugh. “Sorry.” Suddenly he winced and pressed a hand to his stomach. “Ah. Cramp.”

“It’s alright, kid,” Tony scoffed. “I think you’re being punished enough.”

X

At the next Avengers team dinner, Tony stood in the buffet line behind Peter, watching in horror as the teenager covered his pasta in Alfredo sauce. “What the hell, Peter. I got the marinara one especially for you.”

“I had some of that already and it was great, Mr. Stark!” Peter said earnestly. “It’s just been like, forever since I had actual alfredo sauce.”

Tony blinked at him. “Right...” he said slowly “...That would be because you’re allergic to it.”

“Technically it’s not an allergy,” Peter argued, sprinkling parmesan on top of his Fettuccine Alfredo. “An allergy would require an autoimmune response. We learned that in freshman year bio.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Fine, intolerance, whatever. You’re still gonna get sick.”

“I’ll be fine if I only have a little bit.”

X

A mere thirty minutes later, Tony was having déjà vu.

“Peter, I swear to God…” he began.

Peter gave him a sheepish grin. “Okay, I know what you’re gonna say, but—”

Tony spread his arms out dramatically. “There is literally half the dessert table here full of things you can eat, and yet you pick the cheesecake? Why?” he demanded.

Peter gave him an incredulous look. “Because it’s cheesecake, Mr. Stark,” he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Tony scoffed, “Yeah, key word there, cheese.”

Peter gazed longingly at the towering fluffy white dessert balanced on the serving spatula in his hand. “But it’s so good.”

Tony ran an exasperated hand over his face. “Kid, think this through. I’m begging you.”

Peter let out a resigned sigh as he let the piece of cheesecake tip onto his waiting plate. “I have. I’m sorry.”

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, it’s your funeral. But I don’t wanna hear about it later.”

“You won’t—I promise,” Peter assured. He picked up a fork, and, making eye-contact with Tony the whole time, brought a bite to his lips. “But I gotta do it, Mr. Stark.”

X

A few hours after dinner, Tony spied Peter emerging from the restroom, pale and sweating, arms wrapped around his obviously cramping stomach.

“Uuugh Mr. Staark…” Peter whined upon seeing his mentor. He was making a pouting face, but the tiniest hint of a smile playing at his lips. “My tummy huurrts...”

“I’m sure it does, kid.” With a snort of amusement, Tony held out a bottle of water to the teen, who took it gratefully. “Was it at least worth it?”

Peter thought for a moment as he sipped the water. “Almost,” he finally decided. He hummed to himself. “Now if the cheesecake had had whipped cream on it…”

Tony let out a long sigh. “Why? Why do you do this to yourself?” he implored.

Peter locked eyes with his mentor. “Mr. Stark,” he said solemnly, “some nights you just gotta face God and walk backwards into Hell.”

“NO YOU FUCKING DON’T, PETER!”

X

Tony was just finishing some updates on DUM-E when FRIDAY alerted him to the fact that Thor was urgently approaching the workshop doors. Given he wasn’t a usual visitor, Tony looked up curiously.

“Stark, you must come quickly!” Thor’s voice boomed. “The Falcon and young Man of Spiders seem to have ingested some kind of poison.”

Tony’s heart dropped. “What?” Peter and Sam had been poisoned? “How?” he asked sharply. He dropped his tools on the workbench and immediately hurried toward the door. “What kind of poison?”

“I am not certain,” Thor replied. The two men strode quickly down the corridor. “But it appears only to affect mortal men as I myself have consumed the same beverage and yet I remain unscathed.”

“Did you call in a med team?” Tony demanded.

“A healer?” Thor questioned. “Nay, but Banner had arrived just as I left to seek you.”

Tony instantly breathed out a sigh of relief. Sure, Bruce may not be an actual medical doctor, but his seven PhDs are certainly worth something. “Okay, good. What symptoms are we talking about here? When did this start?”

“It came on about an hour after consuming the beverage. They both appear to be in a fair amount of pain, and their bodies seem to be working to expel the contaminant,” Thor reported. “There is a foul odor about them as well, as though something inside is dying.”

“Jesus…” Tony swore, breaking into a jog for the rest of the way to the common area.

When he arrived, the scene wasn’t quite the picture of imminent peril that Thor had painted for him. On one couch, Sam was laying flat on his back, one arm hugging a pillow to his stomach while the other arm was extended upward so that his forearm rested over his eyes. On the couch next to him, Peter was half sprawled out, half propped up against the cushions so he could sip from a can of Sprite. He looked a little green.

Bruce, looking calm as ever, was lining a small trash can next to Peter with a fresh plastic bag.

“What’s going on here?” Tony demanded, stepping into the room. “Thor tells me they’ve been poisoned.”

Bruce let out a quick snort of laughter. “You could say that. Self-inflicted, but sure.”

“Excuse me?” Tony raised his eyebrows.

“Mr. Staaark…” Peter moaned from the sofa. “Did you know there’s no such thing as a milkshake on Asgard?”

Tony just blinked at him.

“I mean, imagine going your whole life without ever tasting a milkshake,” Peter went on, his tone just bordering on a whine.

“That’s just not right, man,” Sam groaned in agreement.

Tony glanced at the three, large, empty tumblers on the table nearby, their insides coated in what appeared to be milkshake residue. He looked back over his shoulder to the kitchen area and spied a blender sitting out on the counter.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing this,” Tony deadpanned. He shot Sam a glare. “And now you too?” he accused.

“Blame genetics,” Sam grumbled. “Did you know seventy-four percent of African Americans are lactose intolerant?”

“Rhodey isn’t,” Tony quipped back.

“Well hooray for Rhodey then,” Sam muttered irritably into his arm. “Lucky bastard.”

“I do not understand,” Thor spoke up, frowning in confusion. “Have these men been poisoned or not?”

“Yes,” Peter groaned, clutching his stomach.

Tony rolled his eyes at the dramatic kid. “It’s… complicated,” he replied to Thor. “They’ll live, and with any luck, they’ll be deterred from future idiotic behavior for about a week. Or five days if I order pizza on Friday.”

“This was about justice for the Prince of Asgard,” Peter mumbled. “We die like men.”

“Men with tummy aches,” Tony pointed out.

Eyes still covered by his arm, Sam held up his middle finger. “We die like lactose intolerant men,” he amended.

With a hum of agreement, Peter promptly leaned over and vomited into the trash can.

As Bruce moved in to rub Peter’s back while he heaved, and Sam got up to make another trip to the bathroom, Tony threw his hands up in the air and turned on his heels.

“That’s it,” he muttered as he walked out. “I have officially given up.

Read Part 3 of the Lactose Intolerant Peter series

Fic Masterlist

[joohoneyhoe]

You Are My Life: Three

Why is it you? I’m going crazy. What is this? I think I’ve fallen for you.

[song inspiration: Flume - Say It Feat. Tove Lo]

| One | Two | Three | Four |

info: lee jooheon x oc genre: single dad!au, boxer!au, a lot of fucking angst, suggested smut word count: 6.1k

{Monday}

I was wandering around putting away weights, waiting for Ozzy to show up. My eyes glanced over to the clock, it was already past four and it was the first time she had ever been late for a session. I brushed my worries aside and just continued the task at hand. By the time I had finished and began wrapping my wrist, it was nearly four fifteen.

Just as I pulled out my phone to call her, the door chimed and in she came. I immediately noticed that she looked tired, her eyes red and her cheeks flushed. She didn’t even look up at me as she approached, her shoulders not carrying their usual confidence, but slumped slightly. She looked almost defeated in a sense, like she had been knocked down one peg too many. Once her eyes finally met mine, I gave her a small smile and a slight wave, but received nothing in return.

It hurt, but I carried on with my job anyway.

“You ready to practice some new drills tonight?” I asked cheerfully, trying to lighten the strange mood permeating my gym.

“I suppose so.” she muttered, wrapping her wrist with ease as she spoke. My eyes dragged over her, trying to figure out if her behavior was because of what I had done on Saturday or something else. I felt a knot in the pit of my stomach, making anxiousness well up within me.

“Is everything alright, Ozzy?” I inquired finally, approaching her with caution. “Yeah, it’s fine, Jooheon. Can we just get started?” her answer was curt, it immediately shutting down the conversation.

“Sure. No problem.” I swiftly walked away from her, shoving my feelings deep down and ignoring them so I could make it through this session. Though, I had a hard time turning off my brain, it telling me I fucked something up over and over again as she followed me to the ring.

We started our session without a single word exchanged, bringing the focus mitts in and working there before we moved on. Her shots were halfhearted and weak, which was not like her at all. I kept that going for longer than usual, hoping to stir a fire in her.

It never came.

Finally I tossed away the focus mitts, my frustration starting to seep out in my mannerisms. I grabbed my gloves and got into defensive mode. She didn’t even bother, just got into her stance and waited for me to go for her. I shook my head, letting out a loud huff as I swung at her ribs, it landing perfectly, but not too hard as usual. She bit her lip, stepping back, but her defenses were still down. I swung again and she failed to block it for a second time, not even attempting to move away. I stopped what I was doing, ripped my gloves off and threw them aside, marching up to her, her eyes downcast.

“Ozzy, you’re not even trying to block me. Your shots are sloppy, your defense isn’t up and you won’t even look at me. What is going on? Did I do something?” I exclaimed, waving my arms in frustration as I stared down at her.

“No. I’m just-I’m just having kind of a shit day, okay.” she snapped, that feisty look coming back into her eyes for a brief second. I sighed loudly, realizing my temper had gotten the best of me. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to.” I quickly apologized, trying to set my actions right.

“You know, I think it’s best if I take the week off. I’ll still pay for all my sessions, I’m just not up to it right now. I’m sorry.” she stated, swiftly ducking out of the ring and heading to her gym bag. I followed closely behind her, confused and wondering what it was I had done or what could have happened to make her act this way.

“You sure you’re okay?” she spun around, looking up at me with watery eyes, her face flushed once again. I immediately regretted my hasty reaction, seeing that she truly was upset about something and I had obviously made it worse. “No, not really. But, what can you do about my ex-husband who decided to show back up after three years? Not much.” she blurted, taking a hold of her bag and hoisting it over her shoulder.

“I-I’m sorry, Ozzy.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Jooheon. Just something I have to handle.” she said softly as she wiped a stray tear away from her cheek. “Is there anything I can do?” I offered, stepping a little closer, but she took a step back. “You’ve done enough.”

I felt her words hit my chest like a ton of bricks, feeling as if it was being crushed by the weight of her words. “Okay, just let me know when you’re ready to come back. I’ll be here.” I reassured in a soft voice, my throat feeling very dry all of a sudden.

“Yeah, see ya.” 

I sat down on the bench her bag had been on and one of the bars instantly snapped and sent me tumbling onto the ground. I just spread myself out against the cold cement in defeat, arms and legs spread out like a starfish.

“Of fucking course.”

{Wednesday}

“Heyyy, you called and I am here!” Wonho proclaimed as he rapped on my door frame. I didn’t even glance up from my paperwork to acknowledge him.

“Hey, Wonho.” he ignored my moodiness and went and sat himself down in Shownu’s chair, dropping his bag of welding gear onto the floor beside him. He spun a few times, his long black hair spinning with him.

“Where is Ozzy at? I thought you were giving her after hours sessions for the next like, six months. I was looking forward to seeing her. It’s been a while since I’ve been down to the shop.” he questioned, stopping finally to face me. I continued to not look at him, knowing he would be able to tell I was upset the minute we made eye contact.

“Oh, um, she took the week off. Said she had some shit she had to straighten out. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just her instructor.” he leaned as far over as he could, angling his head to look me in the eyes and I ignored him.

“Dude, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Anyway, one of my benches rusted out and snapped, luckily it was on me and not a client. Do you think you can fix it?” I requested as I stood up, shutting my laptop and walking out of my office to said bench. Wonho trailed close behind me, his gear in tow.

“Jooheon-”

I turned and faced him finally, my face showing my disinterest in the conversation he was trying to have with me. “Look, I really don’t want to talk about it. I’ll wave your gym membership for the rest of the year if you fix the bench and let this one go for now.” he scoffed at me, sliding his leather jacket off and throwing it over to the nearest surface, revealing his muscle tank underneath that displayed all his hard work in my gym as of late. 

“You’re not waving my fee for the year. Just a month and I’ll have it fixed within the hour.” he told me with a wide grin right before bringing the visor down on his welding mask.

“Thank you, Wonho.”

“Anytime.”

I walked away, leaving him to do his work while I went back to my office and moped some more. I slumped back down into my chair, eyes wandering over the paperwork on my desk, immediately spotting Ozzy’s information. I picked up the document, eyes scanning over it for the millionth time that day. Nothing was different on it, so why did I keep looking at it? 

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Hey, your bench is fixed, man.” Wonho said as he popped his head into my office, his bare arms all covered in residual soot marks from where he was welding, his helmet still on his head. I set my pen down and turned to face him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Awesome, I can’t thank you enough for constantly fixing my busted ass shit.” I thanked him as he walked in and sat back down in Shownu’s chair for the second time today. “Seriously, stop thanking me for this crap. You feed me, let me crash on your couch when I get too shitfaced and basically give me a free gym membership. We’re square.”

“If you insist.”

“You sure you don’t wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” he probed, leaning back in the chair as he draped his arms over the armrest.

“Free membership for next month revoked.” I told him, kicking his foot in the process. “Come on, Jooheon. I know something is really bothering you. You haven’t acted like this since the divorce. What the fuck happened?” he continued, kicking me back. I let out a loud sigh as I rubbed my face with my hands in frustration.

“I’m an idiot is what fucking happened.”

“Does this have to do with Ozzy?” he inquired, his eyebrow raising suspiciously. “Sure does.” I replied, my tone short. “What, you like her?” he said with a snort as he took a drink from his water bottle, like he almost couldn’t believe it.

“Like her, I had my tongue down her throat five days ago.”

He proceeded to spit his water out, making me jerk back so he wouldn’t hit me with it. Promptly he wiped his face and set the bottle down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “What?!” he finally questioned me, eyebrows raised. “It’s a long story.”

“No, no, no! You can’t tell me you guys were playing tonsil hockey and then not explain how you got there!” he exclaimed loudly, flinging his arms around like a toddler. “It’s irrelevant.”

“Like fuck it is! Do you know how many guys I’ve seen try to get her to even talk to them?! So many, dude. And now you’re telling me, you’ve had your tongue, in her mouth, without context? Nope. Need the whole story.” he demanded unwaveringly.

“Jesus…” I complained, throwing my head back dramatically.

“Just tell me what happened, Jooheon. I want to help.”

“Fine. Um, I guess it started when I ran into her at the grocery store with the girls.” I began, leaning forward to try and get more comfortable, but I was quickly interrupted. “The girls have met her?!”

“If you would shut the fuck up and listen for a minute, I'd tell you.” I scolded him, hitting his arm with a resounding smack against the skin. He flinched and rubbed the spot, jutting his lip out as he pouted. “Sorry, I’m done.”

“Anyway, we ran into her, Jee being Jee, invited her to just come over. Well, that turned into Ozzy offering to do a warrior tea party with them at their request. So, I figured she was just being nice to them and didn’t mean it. But, Friday she came in for her session and brought it up, asking when we could do it. Well, I agreed to do it Saturday, she showed up at eight like she said she would and then ended up taking both girls to her house until like eight that night.

I literally slept all day, only waking up when she would text me with updates. I woke up around nine to her standing over me, trying to get me up. She had bathed the girls and bought them new pajamas before bringing them back, and then put them to bed all on her own.”

“You’re gonna fucking marry her, right?” he interjected with a smirk.

“What did I say about listening?”

“Sorry. Continue.” he apologized again, folding his hands together in his lap as he sat back.

“Anyway, she had brought me dinner and had it all warmed up for me and shit. I asked her if she wanted to just hang out and watch a movie with me. I was surprised she even said yes after having the girls for like, twelve hours, but she did. So, we watched a movie and at the end I kinda told her I wanted to...kiss her. She asked what I was waiting for and then it escalated from there.” my eyes wandered up from my shoes, finally meeting his and hoping he wouldn’t press for more details than that.

“Escalated how exactly?”

“None of your fucking business.”

He snorted, his lip curling like I was the asshole. “I mean did you sleep with her?” I shot him a look of irritation, scowling deeply as my nose scrunched up all on it’s own. “No, I did not sleep with her. We just...fooled around and then she went home. But, things were fine when she left and she acted as if she wanted to do it again.”

“Does Changkyunie know you wanna fuck his boss?”

“I’m going to murder you if you don't shut the fuck up. Anyway, she came in on Monday and all of a sudden it was like the air had been turned on. She didn’t even greet me the way she usually does. So, I’m thinking I’ve obviously fucked up. Then halfway through the session, I ask her if she was alright and she just said she decided she should take the week off. Something to do with her ex resurfacing and fucking up her week. I mean, that could be true, but to me, it just looks like I royally fucked this. 

And man, I really, really fucking like her. I don’t-I don’t know what to do.” I flopped against my chair, head hanging off the back as my arms dangled over the sides. I felt completely and utterly stupid after explaining what had happened.

“I think you should just give her time. I’m sure she just needs a bit to get her head straight. She hasn’t been with anyone since her ex-husband and I’m sure it’s a bit different for her, just as it is for you. Just be patient, give her the space she needs and she’ll come back around when she’s ready.” he rested his hand on my knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“How are you so stupid all the time, and yet you always have the best advice?”

“Well that was just rude.” I let out a laugh at the pathetic look taking over his features, clapping him on the back before sitting comfortably again. “Thanks for listening, man. I’m sorry I was such a dick about it earlier.”

“I get it, and you know I’m always here for you. Stupid or not.”

“I know you are, on both accounts.” I teased, him shooting me a frown in return.

“Firstly, I resent that and secondly, I’m gonna head home now, you should too. Call me if you need me.” he gave my knee one more squeeze before he got up, gathered his gear and walked towards the door.

“Okay, I will.”

“I mean it!” he shouted as he proceeded out the exit, making me laugh.

“Get the fuck outta here already!” I hollered back, him flipping me the bird before the door slammed shut behind him. I let out a heavy sigh, looking down at all he shit on my desk. I took a hand through my hair, brushing the long strands away from my eyes, feeling even more defeated now than I had earlier. I slumped back down into my chair, covering my face with my hands.

“FUCK!”

{Sunday}

"Daddy?" "Yes, baby bun?" I looked up from my plate to meet Dae’s gaze, her big brown eyes giving off a distressed look, making my heart leap into my throat immediately.

"Why doesn't mommy live with us now?" and there it was, the question I had been dreading since we moved out of Joy and I’s once shared home. I set my fork down, pushing my plate aside to give her my undivided attention.

"Well, sometimes mommies and daddies don't live together anymore. They sometimes grow apart and it's best to live separately. Does that make sense?" I told her gently, reaching over to take her hand. "Why don't we see her though?" there was the other question I had been dreading. "Mommy is very busy with her job, baby bun. It's not that she doesn't want to." 

"But you're busy with your job and we see you. Uncle Changkyunie, uncle Wonho, and uncle Shownu are busy with their jobs and we see them. Does she not want to see us anymore?" she argued, her little eyebrows knitting together. "That-that's not it, Dae. Her job is just very different than ours is all. You'll see her soon." 

"I don't want to see her." my eyes flew to my other daughter, my stomach turning at her harsh words towards her mother. "Jee, why would you say that?" "Because she doesn't love you anymore and I love you. She should love you too. I don't want to see her until she loves you again." my heart broke, for her and Dae, knowing that there was no explaining this to them right now. “Honey, mommy doesn't have to love daddy if she doesn't feel that way anymore and that's okay. Daddy understands.”

“Well, I don't. Can't Ozzy love you?”

“Love bug, that isn't how it works. Ozzy is just my fr...my client.”

“But I like her and she makes you smile. I like it when you smile. I want her to love you and make you smile all the time.” she stated, pushing her plate away forcefully, it clanking against the baking dish in the middle of the table.

“Jee...I-I’m sorry.” my voice cracked, my eyes watering as I looked over her beautiful little face. Her eyes began to well with tears, my hand reaching out to brush her bangs from her eyes.

“I want a mommy! Why can't I have one?!” she shouted, scaring Dae in the process.

“Jee, you have a mommy and she loves you very much.”

“No she doesn't! If she did, she wouldn't have forgotten about me.” she wailed, tears streaking down her now flushed cheeks. There it was, my four year old daughter already making connections no child should have to make so soon.

“Don't cry, Jee. Please...” her sister pleaded, her own tears now cascading down her face.

I got out of my chair, quickly bending down and turning her to look at me, my thumbs wiping away the tears. “Jee, I need you to listen to me. I love you so much, and your mommy loves you just as much. I'm sorry she has to work as often as she does, but that doesn't mean she's forgotten about you or your sister. She loves you both, I promise.” she sat there silently for a moment, then flung her little arms around my neck and hugged me tightly.

“I'm tired, daddy.” she confessed, burying her face in my neck. I felt Dae’s little arms attempt to wrap around my waist from behind, her cheek pressed against my spine. “Me too, daddy.”

I pulled both girls away from me, helped Jee down from her chair and swiftly picked up both of my babies and held them close. Their little hands clasped together, resting against my chest as they lay their heads on my shoulder. My tears couldn’t be stopped anymore and I just let them fall freely down my face as I hugged them tightly, never wanting to let go.

“Alright, let's get you both to bed then.”

After putting the girls to bed, I found myself pacing my room restlessly. My mind on overdrive, trying to think of ways to explain to my children what has been happening. How do you explain any of this to two four year olds? The reality was that they shouldn’t even have to be in this sort of situation. They didn’t ask to be born, to be disregarded by their mother because they weren’t male. They were innocent children that only wanted the love of their parents, and right now they were only getting one out of two.

I felt a panic rising up in me, my breathing becoming shallow. I had no way to calm myself down because I couldn't leave and go do what I normally would, which was lay into a punching bag for an hour or so. I pulled my phone from my back pocket, finding the contact I needed. It barely rang twice before he picked up.

“Yellow!” Wonho greeted me happily, far too awake for this time of night. Though he was probably in his garage doing something with his welder that he shouldn’t.

“Hey man, I know it's kind of late and out of the blue, but can you come sit at the house while I go to the gym? Girls are asleep and I-I need to um-” he cut me off, his tone calm. “Dude, you don't even have to explain. I'll be there in ten.”

“Thank you, Wonho.” I replied with a sigh of relief.  

“That's what friends are for, man. See you in a few.”

My bare fist crashed against the punching bag, sweat dripping from every pore as I punched relentlessly. Every clash of my knuckles against the leather bag sent a jolt through my entire arm, reminding me that I was still alive and could feel things other than hurt and pain. I jerked my wet bangs from my eyes, narrowing in on the bag as my shoeless foot came up to land a kick to the top of it, another jolt soaring through my calf all the way up my thigh.

I kept going, kept punching and kicking with all my might, my frustration slowly dissipating as I worked myself into a frenzy. I was so focused on what I was doing that I didn’t hear the bell to the front door chime and someone come in.

“Jooheon?”

“O-ozzy, what are you doing here?” that voice I had been wanting to hear all week rang out in the large gym, making me stop mid punch.

She approached me slowly, her hands in the back pockets of her gray skinny jeans, converse scuffing along the floor. “I was at the shop drawing and lost track of time. I saw the lights on when I was going by and decided to check and make sure everything was alright since it’s,” she glanced down at her watch. “One in the morning on a Sunday. Are you okay?”

I pushed away from the bag, walking up to her and taking a deep breath in. She didn’t shy away this time, instead she met my gaze with a sympathetic look. My brow furrowed in frustration and confusion at her presence, wondering why she suddenly cared if I was okay or not.

“No. No I'm not okay. My children essentially don't have a mother and I have to explain to them why. I have to see them making the connection that their mom doesn't give a flying fuck about them. That no matter what I say to reassure them that she does, one day they'll just realize it all on their own. I'm raising twin four year old girls alone, balancing them, a business, finances and everything by myself. I'm tired and yet I can't sleep. I don't have time to even think about meeting anyone, because I'm literally always here. And when I do finally meet someone, I fuck it up tremendously. This will be my life for the next fourteen years, me, alone.”

Her hand reached up to touch my cheek, her fingers soft against my damp skin. I leaned into it without even thinking, eyes closing as I relished in her gentle touch. “I don't believe that for a second, Jooheon. You shouldn't either. Any woman would be honored to have you as their significant other. I know I would be.” I looked down at her, meeting those eyes that were as blue as the Caribbean sea on a sunny day.

“That's the other thing. I fucking like you, Ozzy. But for the life of me, I can't figure out if you feel the same. You're so honest and open, but at the same time, you're closed off and careful too. After that night at my house, you just-you acted like you were upset with me. Like, maybe I had overstepped my bounds and you decided it was a dumb idea to do what we did. I-I didn't know what to think after that. I feel like I'm reading into something that's not there, because it's been so goddamn long since I've tried to date anyone. Fuck.

I just-I’m confused.”

Her hand remained perched along my cheek, her thumb rubbing it tenderly. I reached up and covered it with my own, fingers gently feeling the faintly raised skin from her tattoo, a sensation I had come to enjoy.

“Jooheon, you are the first man I've put this much effort into spending time with since I met my ex-husband ten years ago. I know you couldn't possibly know that, because I haven't told you. But, it's true. That night was probably the most fun I’ve had since I was a teenager. Afterwords, I didn't quite know what to do or whether or not I had overstepped my bounds.

Then my ex-husband showed up out of fucking nowhere, put it into my head that no one else would ever want me again and I panicked. I let him get to me, even after all these years. I thought the best thing to do would be to step away and clear my head. I didn't want you to do something you would regret later. You haven't been separated as long as I have, and I obviously still struggle with all of this. I didn't want to push you into anything too quickly. So, I'm sorry if it seems like I'm so hot and cold with you, it's been my defense mechanism for years after being married to the type of man I was for so long.” she explained, my hand leaving hers as she slowly dropped her own down to my throat, fingers curling around the nape of my neck and toying with my hair.

“What happened with him, Ozzy?”

She let out a long breath, her eyes moving down to my chest, her other hand coming up to trace along the lines of my tattoos, following them like a path. The sensation of her long nude nails against my naked flesh raised goosebumps, my nipples perking almost instantly, but I didn’t stop her. She appreciated the ink along my skin just as much as I did hers.

“What happened was I woke up from the fantasy world I had created in my head. One that wasn't really a fantasy at all, but a nightmare. He controlled everything I did, said and wore. I was a trophy, not a wife. I thought he loved me, blinded by the way he had treated me in the beginning of our relationship, even though looking back, all the signs were there. He loved the title of perfect husband and wife. It made him look good.

In the beginning, it was a love like I never thought I would experience in my lifetime. In the end, it was just a charade. He just needed someone next to him to make him look like the perfect family man for his family's business, and me being white helped with international business. He didn't love me. I was just someone there to show he was perfect and could have the perfect wife, a fucking prop if you will. He didn't even use my real name in public, he used my middle name, Anne. I was so goddamn stupid for not seeing it.

He controlled every little detail of my life, right down to the makeup I wore and how I fucked him. Which by the way, was the most boring sex of my entire life and it only got worse as time went on. I could go on and on about what a horrible and selfish lover he was. So bad that I haven't fucked anyone since I left him. I had a better orgasm with you just fooling around than I ever did with him, and that even includes the beginning of our relationship. But, this is beside the point.

The last year of our marriage I began going against him in every way possible. How I dressed changed back to the way I had always done it. No more overpriced dresses, slacks and whatever other ugly expensive bullshit I was forced to wear. It was back to holy jeans, giant t-shirts and converse. I basked in how much he hated it. I started changing my makeup the way I wanted and got my piercings back.

Then he began to totally isolate me to the house, not taking me out in public with him anymore at all. The final straw was when I got a huge thigh tattoo, the skull of a cat. He lost it and I said fuck you and left. I never looked back and that was almost three years ago. So, here I am, standing in front of you pouring my heart out, because I like you and I want to be completely transparent with you. This is all so new to me, but I'm pushing aside my anxiousness for this, because I think it could work. So, that's my story. This is why I am who I am.”

Her hand rested against my chest now, her palm feeling as if it was burning my still sweat slicked skin as the other laced our fingers together. I reached up and brushed the pads of my fingers along her jaw, her skin soft against my calloused hand.

“I'm sorry, Ozzy. You didn't deserve any of that. I can’t imagine you any other way than as the woman standing in front of me. I can’t even fathom trying to dim who you really are, because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever encountered. You’re the type of genuine, kind and strong willed woman I want my girls to be one day. You should be celebrated, not hidden away. Period.”

“I think we both deserved a lot better than what we put up with for all those years, Jooheon. But without those hard years, we wouldn't have become the people we are right now.” she pointed out with a weak smile, her eyes roaming my face.

“My ex-wife...she-she did all the same things to me, controlled and manipulated everything and anything I did. It wasn’t like that at the very beginning of our relationship, but she had just started up her company then and wasn’t the cold, calculated and calloused woman she is today. We were together for ten years and the last six were the hardest for me. She convinced me that she wanted to have children, that she wanted to have a family with me. But, what she really wanted was someone to pass her legacy on to as her business began to grow, and nothing more.

We tried for nearly two years to have the girls and then ended up having to go through In Vitro Fertilization to even conceive. It took five times for it to actually take. But, as soon as she found out the twins weren’t boys, her entire demeanor towards her pregnancy changed. She didn't even hold them when they came out, she refused and I took them both, never leaving their side unless I was forced to. From that day forward, I was simply the babysitter, they were my problem and she was just the provider. It obviously took its toll on me and my girls, considering the state we’re in today.

But you, you came in here the way you did, strong, honest, kind, funny and just a breath of fresh air and you blew my mind. I haven’t looked at a woman the way I looked at you in over ten years. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner and you seemed so...out of reach to me, until that night at my house. And then-then suddenly it felt as if I had blown the only chance I may have had with you. So now, here we are, telling each other all the fucking bullshit we’ve dealt with over the course of the last ten years and I still feel like a fuck up.”

Suddenly, her lips were on mine, arms around my neck as she pulled me against her. My hands instantly moved to her waist, digits splaying out along her back as she pressed herself against me. Her tongue slipped past the seam of my lips, my stomach becoming tight and filled with butterflies as it always did when she kissed me this way. Her hand slipped into my hair, fingers tangling into the sweat ridden strands.

“What was that for?” I questioned once she had parted from me slightly, her warm breath tickling my lips.

“To show you that I really like you too, Jooheonie. So much, and I’m sorry for making you feel the way you did. That was never what I wanted to happen. There is so much about you that I enjoy, admire even. And it makes me want to be near you as much as I can. Honestly, It scared me how quickly I began to like you and how easily I became attracted, like almost instantly. It freaked me out and after we fooled around, it scared me even more and I disappeared, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, but this totally freaks me out.” she explained softly, her lips brushing along mine as she spoke.

“You don't need to be sorry, I really do get it. This freaks me the fuck out too. But, I like you. I'd rather feel like this, than what I felt the last 6 years of my one sided marriage. I want you because I think we could really do this and enjoy each other like we do already. I just-I like you so much, Ozzy. My kids like you, and to me that is important. God I feel like an asshole saying all of this out loud.” I said with a chuckle as my head tilted towards the ceiling, her fingers still interlocked in my hair.

She pulled me back down to look at her, a smile on her beautiful face. “Well, don't, because I really do feel the same. I want to do this with you, with your girls.” she informed me, giving me a chaste kiss. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

I darted for her lips again, cupping her jaw roughly as I pushed her towards the wall near the punching bag. Once her back hit the cement, her hands grabbed my face as she tilted her head to deepen our heated kiss. My free hand slipped under her t-shirt, gripping her hip as I pressed my groin into her, a small moan leaving her lips.

“Fuck, I've been wanting to taste your lips again since you left my house eight days ago. Why are you so addicting?” I told her after I pulled away, my hand traveling along her lower back now, fingers toying with the waist of her jeans.

“I could easily ask you the same. Monday all I wanted to do was feel your hands all over me again, your lips and anything else you could give me. I still do.” she admitted as her hands slid down my chest to my hips, fingers digging into my skin.

“Fuck, come here.”

I grabbed the bottom of her shirt and tugged it off, throwing it behind me carelessly as I began mouthing along her shoulders, hands beginning to unbutton her jeans. Her head rested against the surface behind her, hands holding my neck as I kissed every tattoo my lips could reach. Once her jeans were undone, she shoved me away, giving me a devilish smirk.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not into passionate slow sex. I had enough of that bullshit and not cumming for ten years. If you’re going to fuck me, you better commit.” she ordered, her eyes now dark like a stormy sea, blown out in lust.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’m going to fucking tear you apart."

[keichanz]

Soulmates AU

Because I’m too lazy and tired to think up a title right now.

For the anon who requested prompt number 1 from this post.

Edit: Holy fucking shit there are so many errors and typos please ignore them until I get around to fixing them lmao

Kagome stared down in a mixture of abject horror and absolute elation at the name that had just materialized moments ago on the skin of her right wrist. She was on her way to work on an average Thursday morning, taking the train as she did every day to get to her job as an archery instructor at a special martial arts gym run by her best friend. It definitely had not been there when she’d woken up that morning, and she’d only noticed it because she’d caught a glimpse of black when she’d taken a sip of her Starbucks coffee.

The Soulmate Mark, otherwise known as the name of your Soulmate, only showed up under one condition: you were going to meet them that day, usually within the first hour after it appears. Typically this would be a cause for great happiness and excitement. After all, although everyone is born with a Soulmate, it was still rare that Soulmates actually ended up together because more often than not they lived in different states or even countries. Some received them as young as a day old, while others weren’t lucky enough to get them until they were old and gray. So for it to appear when you’re only in your twenties was a blessing, something to celebrate and remember the day it happened for all of your days.

And usually Kagome would be ecstatic, bouncing off the walls even, and phone everybody she knew…had the name that appeared on her wrist not been in ancient Japanese kana. 

That…wasn’t normal, was it? Kagome blinked down at the characters, able to recognize them for what they were because of her background growing up on a shrine. Her mother’s Mark was in regular Japanese in her deceased father’s handwriting. Sango’s was similar, with her mark being the smooth, elegant characters of her Soulmate’s name in his flowing script. A childhood friend she’d recently reconnected with had gotten her Mark a few months ago in her significant other’s handwriting, also in plain Japanese. 

So why…why was her Mark written in characters that dated back to the Feudal Era? She studied the black ink intently, and found herself actually admiring how it looked. The characters that made up his name were sort of rough around the edges, appearing to be a scrawl more than anything as if written in hasty brush strokes. It wasn’t neat, and yet Kagome had no problem at all deciphering that characters that made up her Soulmate’s name. It was a strange contradiction, and Kagome wondered what the figure the name belonged to was like.

The loud screech of the train braking abruptly brought her out of her thoughts and Kagome blinked again before shaking her head and disembarking. Despite her confusion, elation and slight trepidation, she didn’t have time to dwell on her situation at the moment. Her shift started in half an hour and even though the gym was only a five-minute walk from the station, she needed to prepare for the lessons that day, ranging from beginner to advanced.

Unfortunately, by the time she hurried through the doors of the gym seventeen minutes later due to some unforeseen circumstances including a cyclist, her coffee, and a stained t-shirt, her questionable Soulmate Mark had all but disappeared from her mind as she mentally rolled through the day’s agenda, what needed to be done, what bows she needed to retrieve and lay out for the students who didn’t have one of their own, crap she needed to set up the targets, did the new arm guards come in yet, how many students needed to have their bows already strung, and she really hoped she had a change of clothes somewhere in the archery room. And shit, wasn’t the IT guy supposed to come in today? Damn her stupid computer and its stupid tendency to get stupid viruses! The only thing she ever did on there was play solitaire and go to one stinkin’ website to order more archery supplies! How did it even happen?!

Donned in white judogi with a black belt and talking with her husband and Soulmate, Sango almost missed her best friend’s hasty entrance and distracted rush toward the back of the gym where the door to her archery lessons took place in had it not been for Miroku’s curious raised eyebrow. “Kagome!” she called, jogging over to catch her before she disappeared from view. “Wait, Kagome, I have to tell you—”

“Sorry, Sango, can’t talk, I’m running late today,” Kagome interrupted a bit breathlessly without stopping, failing to notice her friend’s increasingly panicked look the closer she got to the door. “Spilled coffee, gotta change my shirt, lot to do, talk after lessons, okay?” She reached for the knob and yanked the door open.

“Wait! Kagome, listen, do you remember Miroku’s friend—”

“Just send the IT man back when he gets here, thanks San!”

“That’s what I’m tryin—!”

The door slammed shut, Kagome dropped her purse to the floor and then immediately started tugging off her coffee-stained t-shirt, deciding she’d just change into one of the old kosodes she supplied if one of her students desired to wear one during lessons. Most of them were a little too big for her, and smelled funky – she kept forgetting to take them home and launder them – but they would serve her purpose well enough, until she could go home during lunch and change into a fresh t-shirt. And, dammit, she was getting another coffee since she wasn’t able to enjoy her first one this morning. Stupid bicyclist. There were bicycles lanes for a reason…

Kagome dropped the dirty shirt to the floor on her way to the supply closet in the back of the room, snatched a few Kleenex from her desk on her way by to wipe off the coffee residue on her stomach, reached for the door handle—

And froze. Kagome’s back stiffened, her eyes went wide, and the color drained from her face as, painstakingly slowly, she turned her head toward her desk and met the very wide stricken golden eyes of a furiously blushing silver-haired man in her desk chair, one clawed hand lying immobile on the keyboard to her computer while the other hovered over the mouse, frozen in place.

The two stared at each other silently for what seemed like a small eternity, one in increasing mortification and the other with a rapidly growing mixture of awkwardness and embarrassment and had Kagome not been so distracted by the fact that there was a complete and total (but hot) stranger sitting at her desk, she might have noticed the spark of male appreciation in those amber depths. The silence seemed to stretch on forever and in that time Kagome’s face rivaled that of a tomato and still the (hot) stranger didn’t move, didn’t look away.

“…Uh—”

Kagome shrieked, yanked open the closet door and dove inside, slamming the door shut behind her. She heard lurid cursing from the other side as she blindly groped around for a kosode in the darkness and then hastily shrugged it on, effectively hiding the pink lace bra that whoever the hell was out there had gotten good a very good look at. “Who are you and why are you in my classroom?!” she screamed through the door, not quite ready to go out and face him—if he was even still there.

“—Christ—” Well, that answered that. “—I’m the goddamn IT guy,” he yelled back to her then grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “—ears are still ringing.”

“Fine,” Kagome snapped, glaring at the door even though the recipient couldn’t see it. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re in my classroom!”

The supposed IT man swore again. “Sango sent me in to—Jesus, this is stupid, would you come out of there already?!” There was a note of impatience to his voice and Kagome could have sworn she heard a growl.

“You’re stupid,” Kagome muttered petulantly back but reluctantly obeyed, making sure the kosode was tied securely before cracking open the door, peering out, and then exiting the closed in space. She kept her arms tightly folded across her chest as she regarded the silver-haired man with narrowed eyes. He was standing in front of the closet now with his arms crossed over his chest, a scowl on his red face and his golden eyes glaring at her in irritation. Aggravated herself, Kagome was still blushing as she warily asked, “What did Sango send you in to do?”

He raised a brow and snorted. “Keh. Thought that’d be obvious. IT guy?” He waved a hand toward the desk where her computer sat. “I fix computers?”

Kagome’s flush deepened and she murmured, “Oh,” looking a bit sheepish that she hadn’t put two and two together herself but then her earlier ire returned and she glared accusingly at him. “You pervert,” she hissed and he sputtered in what she guessed was disagreement. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?! I can’t believe you just let me—oh my God,” she moaned, dropping her heated face in her hands, embarrassed all over again. The IT guy saw her in her bra. She was going to die.

“I am not!” he protested vehemently, the scowl back on his face and—yes, he was growling, Kagome discovered. What the— “You’re the one who walked in here and started stripping!”

Kagome’s mouth dropped. “Hey—this is my classroom! And it’s not like I expected anybody to be in here! It’s normally empty!” That was when she recalled her best friend trying to tell her something before she’d entered the room, and she’d been in such a hurry to change and get everything prepared for her 9 am class, she couldn’t be bothered to wait and hear her now. Now Kagome was wishing she’d waited to hear Sango’s explanation as to what lie beyond the door to her classroom.

He sneered at her. “Well next time why don’t you listen when someone’s trying to tell you that there’s someone else inside the room you’re going into!”

The archery instructor opened her mouth, closed it, then pouted, annoyed that she couldn’t really argue that point because hadn’t she just told herself the same thing? Still, she mumbled under her breath about rude IT guys and huffily stuck her nose in the air, trying to appear regal and unaffected by it all, but the affect was ruined by the still-going-strong blush coloring her cheeks a vivid shade of scarlet.

The silver-haired man snorted, seemed to relax a little at her apparent defeat – to him anyway – then turned his head, but gave her a calculating, sidelong glance. “Besides,” he muttered suddenly, drawing her narrow-eyed attention. “…S’not like I saw anything interesting anyhow.”

Kagome gaped for the second time in as many minutes and she reacted without thinking, the movement pure reflex. With a cry of outrage she flung her palm toward his face in slap the shit out of him but then gasped when he caught her wrist mid-slap and glowered darkly at her and yep, he was definitely growling.

“Wench—” he started, then abruptly caught himself off as his gaze flicked to the wrist he held in his hand—her right wrist and Kagome gasped when she realized what he was staring at so intently with suddenly wide whiskey-colored eyes. Panicking, Kagome tugged at her wrist, trying to escape the tight grip he had on it, but his hold was firm and it was like he didn’t even notice her valiant tugging, his eyes fixated on her Mark with something flashing in his eyes that Kagome couldn’t quite place. Dread? Fearful astonishment? Cautious hope? Wait, what—

“Kagome,” he suddenly whispered and said woman’s world came to a screeching halt.

Instantly ceasing her attempts to escape his grip, Kagome stared in dawning horror at the man who had probably-most-definitely seen her in her bra and swallowing the suddenly lump in her throat, she dropped her gaze to his hand, drove forward to latch onto his right wrist and yank it up to eyelevel, ignoring his grunt of surprise. Then she whimpered because no matter how hard she tried to deny it, no matter how vehemently she told herself this was not happening, the proof was staring her right in the face: her name in precise blank ink, blazoned across his wrist in clear Japanese—Kagome.

Face pale, heart thundering in her chest, Kagome slowly lifted her gaze up to his face and found him already staring at her, his expression similar to her own. He’d loosened the hold he had on her wrist and he was cradling her hand in his own, his thumb absently sweeping across the Mark that tattooed the pale flesh of her own wrist in ancient Japanese kana—Inuyasha.

They stared at each other silently for an undetermined amount of time, minds whirling, hearts racing until each of their expressions morphed a horrified mask of adamant disbelief, and then they their mouths opened simultaneously and three words fell from two sets of lips.

“Oh, hell no!”  

There is probably definitely going to be a part two. Because this was just too fun to write lmao.