#not going too deep into that right now i need more brainpower for that later but it's very scary and very cool

[ruvviks]

he's written several books about outer space after his thesis btw. most of them discuss popular theories and try to form a clearer understanding of every one of them + their origins + how realistic they are without roasting the original author to hell and back

[creampuffqueen]

Getaway Car - Cresswell, TLC Shipweeks 2021 (Criminal AU)

a/n: Hello!!!! TLC fandom! It's been quite a while since I did anything for y'all! But here I am, back from the dead, with an unholy amount of one single fic for the ship weeks. I was going to post this yesterday, since that was Cresswell's AU day (I think, I wasn't originally planning to post anything so I wasn't keeping track, but I listened to Taylor Swift's song Getaway Car and got a Vision) but sadly my ideas were too large to complete in one day! So take this now!

Word Count: 13142 (yes, I know)

Summary: In an alternate universe, Cress and Thorne are partners in crime, literally. They may also be in love with each other, literally.

Warnings: Contains mentions of guns, violence, underage drinking, cursing, and a lot of crime

~~~~

“Cress, you got me?” Thorne’s voice crackled over the speaker of the burner phone, right into the waiting ears of the person he needed most.

His getaway car, Cress Darnel.

“Loud and clear!” She replied, twisting the key in the ignition of the old car. The engine roared to life under her touch, and the young woman sped out of the alleyway. “Keep going, I’ll be there. You know what to do.”

“We’ve done this almost a dozen times; I know what to do!”

The blonde cracked a grin to herself, “Sure you do. You’d be lost without me.”

“You got that right! See you in two! Mwah!” With that last endearment, the line went dead, and Cress chucked the cell phone out the window with an exasperated smile. She was parked close enough that the rendezvous spot only took her one minute, sixteen seconds to reach.

Timing was of the utmost importance to this mission. Even a few seconds too late and everything would end.

This was proven approximately thirty-eight seconds later, when Carswell Thorne, renowned criminal, tore around the corner, half-zipped duffel bag slung over a shoulder. He had a gun, but both he and Cress knew it wasn’t loaded, it was just for show.

The doors were unlocked, the car had a full tank of gas, and Cress was a very good driver. “Floor it!” Thorne shouted, and Cress didn’t have to be told twice.

When the police arrived, approximately twenty-two seconds later, they, and all evidence, were long gone.

~~~~

After an hour of driving, it was getting dark. Thorne discreetly hotwired a new car in a full supermarket parking lot, and the duo was on their way.

Another hour of driving, and Thorne took over the controls from the younger woman, letting her nap in the passenger seat. She curled up in a little ball, so small she didn’t even stick out of the seat. When she was fast asleep with her cheek squished against the window, Thorne finally risked a glance over to his partner.

It was strange to think they’d only known each other for a few months. Well, six months, two weeks, and five days, to be exact.

He’d tried to stop himself from keeping count. It hadn’t worked. Six months, two weeks, and five days of Cress Darnel being in his life.

It was about nine o’clock, so the traffic was beginning to thin a bit. They were in one of the busiest parts of the city, easy to blend in with their average-looking car. Someone honked behind him, and Thorne gave a glance in his rearview mirror. Whoops.

The day had been long and exhausting. Time to start working on a place to hunker down for the night. Cress shifted a bit in her sleep, and a loud grumble cut through the car. Okay, time to find some food, too.

He drove around the city a bit more, making sure nobody was on their tail, before finally exiting to the more sparsely-populated areas. Where you paid for your room in cash and nobody asked questions.

It was eleven o’clock by the time he finally found someplace suitable enough. He drove through a fast food joint nearby, then finally parked the car. Nudging Cress awake as he exited, he wordlessly passed her the food before heading inside.

Most of the rooms were sold for the night, but they thankfully had one available with two twin beds.

He found Cress devouring her burger like she hadn’t eaten in years. And-

“Hey, fry-stealer!” He chuckled, snatching his bag, “Eat your own!”

She gave him a look with those big blue eyes and something inside him melted. “I already ate mine.”

Thorne rolled his eyes, but passed her a couple more fries anyway. “This means you have to carry your own bag, you know.”

That statement earned him another pout, but he ignored it, instead grabbing his suitcase and the duffel bag containing today’s goods.

He left Cress to her own devices, heading inside the room and grabbing the shower first. His food would be cold, sure, but at least he’d get all the hot water he wanted.

When he came out again, toweling off his hair and rubbing his freshly-shaven face, Cress was inside, passed out on top of her hotel-made bed.

Thorne sighed, but couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. It was exhausting, having so much brainpower all the time.

He tugged off her shoes, placing them neatly by the bed, in case they needed a quick escape. Then, gently, almost reverently, he tucked her under the covers.

He couldn’t resist. Making sure she was fully asleep, he pressed a soft, tiny kiss on top of her perfect golden hair.

“‘Night, Cress.”

He was fast asleep himself before he heard her reply.

“Goodnight.”

~~~~

The pair made an early departure, before other residents rose from their slumber and possibly compromised their location. Since Thorne had driven for so long yesterday, Cress felt it was only fair that she drove. It was a bit strange, she admitted, usually she was the night owl and he the early bird. But yesterday had been hard. It took a lot of planning to pull it off that smoothly.

By the time the sun rose, the pair was at least an hour away from the motel. Cress got them both coffee at a little roadside place, then pulled off to the side so they could enjoy it.

“You always get my order right,” Thorne chuckled, leaning against her as they sat in the open trunk of the car. “I’ve got a very sensitive palette, you know.”

Cress snorted, “You sure do. That’s just pure sugar in a cup right there.” She took a big gulp of her own brew, which was almost pure espresso.

“I don’t know how you can drink literal dirt water!” Thorne protested, “It’s so nasty!”

Cress bumped his shoulder again, still smiling. He grinned right back at her, before turning his eyes back to the early-morning sun.

“You ever think you’d get to see stuff like this? Do stuff like this?”

Cress could think of a thousand different witty remarks to toss back at him, mostly along the lines of “Being a wanted criminal? Absolutely.”, but for whatever reason, she held her tongue, instead replying, “No. Back then I didn’t even know when I’d see the sun next.”

Thorne turned his blue eyes over to her, squeezing her hand in a silent comfort. This close, she noticed that he’d shaved last night. And was letting his roots grow out again. Her heart sped up, just a bit.

In the six months she’d known him, he’d changed his appearance so often she was losing count. He always did after a heist, no matter how big or small. He dyed his hair, let his beard grow out, or sometimes simply donned a pair of glasses. Cress hadn’t changed hers since the very first.

~~~~

“Hey, blondie, where are you headed?” Cress whipped her head around to the voice that sounded. Rumbling up beside her was a car, front window rolled down, to reveal a young man, only a year or so older than her.

“None of your business,” She responded warily, curling in on herself a bit.

“Are you lost?” The guy continued, “I could give you a ride.”

“Like I’d get in a car with a strange man. That’s, like, begging to be killed.”

The guy looked actually offended at that. “What? I don’t kill people!”

Cress just rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

She turned away, hitching her backpack higher. She’d chickened out again. Sybil would be home any minute and she needed to get home. Her pace quickened, and the car and the guy rolled off.

Little did she know, that certainly wasn’t the last she’d see of him.

~~~~

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” Cress pulled the duffel bag of stolen material towards her, beginning to rifle through it while Thorne watched. The late afternoon sun filtered through the window, turning her golden hair into an illusion of fire.

They’d ditched the car yet again, this time nabbing one from a used car parking lot. Now they were in a small town that the highway ran through, alone in a back alley, the only company being an alley cat in the trash and a couple further down that were too caught up in each other to notice anything.

Inside the bag, Cress pulled out treasure after treasure. A lot of cash; Thorne had the employees empty all the registers, and a lot of what Cress needed: Computer parts.

She had an old, run-down laptop, one of the few things taken with her from her previous life in the quiet suburbs. She would have had Thorne steal another laptop, but those were too traceable these days, even if they were brand new.

So manual upgrades it was.

Computers were her specialty, always had been. And now that she was a part of this merry band of two, her computer and her skills were integral parts to everything they did.

As it turned out, the most recent robbery had yielded exactly what she needed, and more. She gave a squeal of delight after unearthing a certain part, hugging it close to her chest.

A little chuckle sounded behind her, and Cress whipped her head around. Thorne was grinning ear-to-ear, the kind of smile that made her face heat up. “Happy, Goldilocks?”

Her face burned, and she twisted her fingers in her shoulder-length locks of hair. But she met his eyes and nodded. “Really happy. This is exactly what I needed.”

Thorne’s smile softened. “Anything for you, Princess.”

And somehow, deep inside her, she knew he was speaking the truth.

~~~~

Cress sprinted along the side of the road, the grass scratching at her bare legs. Her whole head throbbed, and her left wrist was sprained for sure. Every step pulled at the bruising on her stomach, and it was a struggle to keep moving, keep the backpack on her shoulders, keep moving.

“I’m eighteen now, she can’t hurt me anymore. I’m eighteen now, she can’t hurt me anymore,” She murmured over and over to herself, a mantra to keep her sore legs moving. She needed to leave, needed to keep moving.

She risked a glance behind her. Her heart froze.

Car lights were coming up the road. Fast.

Cress started running faster, biting her lip to keep from sobbing, keep from just keeling over and dying right there. She could beat her. She could escape. She just had to keep moving.

It was the middle of the night, there was no way anyone else but Sybil was driving that car. There was nowhere to hide. All she could do was keep going, and hope that maybe she sped right past. It was foolish, but it was all she had.

Her foot slipped into a small dip in the earth, and her whole ankle screamed, sending her toppling into the dirt. Coughing and sputtering, she pushed herself up, stumbling forward. The tears came, fast and hard and unstoppable. The lights were nearly on top of her now.

And that’s when she saw it. Another car, coming towards her. Her last chance.

Cress nearly toppled over herself in her haste, tumbling into the middle of the road, in the path of the incoming car. As expected, it screeched to a stop, the driver slamming on the horn.

“Help!” Cress screamed, as Sybil’s car pulled up behind her, her face illuminated by the other headlights and frozen in fury. “Please help me! She’s going to hurt me!”

“Crescent Moon!” Sybil bellowed, and Cress backed up against the other car. The driver’s door opened. And out stepped the most handsome man Cress had ever seen in her life.

Okay, she was definitely dreaming. She gave herself a tiny pinch.

Maybe not.

The man… he seemed familiar, somehow. She couldn’t quite place it.

“Cress,” Sybil snarled, stomping over, “Get in the car, now.” Her tone left no room for argument. Cress curled in on herself.

“Hey,” The man replied, “Who the hell are you?”

“Her mother.”

“Foster mother,” Cress interjected softly. “And I’m eighteen. You don’t own me anymore.”

If Sybil’s face could get more furious, it did. The man glanced between them, brows creasing as he took in Cress’s limp, her black eye, the way she held her stomach.

“You heard the girl. She doesn’t belong to you, witch.”

Sybil lunged, grabbing Cress’s sprained wrist. She screamed in pain, and the man moved.

And suddenly he was pointing a gun at her foster mother. Everyone froze.

“Let her go.” He said, “Leave her alone.”

Sybil backed away. “I’ll call the police, boy. You can’t threaten me.”

The gun clicked. He armed it. He pointed it straight at Sybil.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s eighteen. And if she comes willingly, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

And Cress really couldn’t say why, exactly, but in that moment she knew that he was truthful. That his words made sense, and more than that, she would go with him.

“I’m going with him, Sybil.” For the first time in her life, Cress Darnel was being brave. And it wasn’t a dream.

The man turned to her, flashing a grin, and Cress recognized him then. The same one who approached her nearly a month earlier.

“Cress, right?” He asked, when Sybil had retreated to her car and driven away, “Nice name. I’m Carswell, but everyone calls me Thorne. Oh, and sorry to scare you like that. This thing isn’t loaded, never has been.”

Cress glanced down the road, at the car growing steadily smaller in the distance. “Thanks for all that, Thorne. You showed up just in time.”

He offered her a hand to shake. “My pleasure, blondie.”

Despite everything, Cress found herself cracking a smile.

~~~~

“So, where to next, milady?” Thorne beamed, spreading a roadmap before them both. They’d finally stopped for the night, and were sitting on some questionable carpet in an even more questionable motel, figuring out their next plan.

“Dunno,” Cress shrugged, “Wherever’s good, I guess.”

“I mean, where you do want to see?” Thorne elaborated. “What’s your dream destination, Cress?”

She gave him a confused look. “Why?”

“You can say Disneyworld. I won’t judge.”

That earned him a snicker and a shove against the shoulder, and he could almost feel his heart swell with affection. She really was adorable, sitting in a tank top and pajama shorts, thick socks rolled around her ankles. He’d do anything to earn that smile again.

“I’m not sure, really. I’ve never had the chance to really think about it.”

“Well surely you must at least know some places. A place you’ve heard, maybe?”

Cress sighed, leaning further against him. “I don’t know, Thorne. What about you? Where do you want to go?”

“Ladies first, Goldilocks.”

“It’s Disneyworld, isn’t it.”

“You could hack their system and get us free tickets! And fast passes for all the rides! It would be great!” He replied enthusiastically.

“I mean in theory, sure, but Disney’s kinda notorious for being fairly unhackable.”

“Damn it.”

Cress yawned, laying nearly in his lap. “Let’s think about it tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Thorne lifted her, bridal style, to her bed, amidst her soft giggles. She sounded like a fairy. “Goodnight, milady. I shall seek thee out in the morning.”

Cress laughed harder, which turned abruptly into a yawn as she tucked herself beneath the covers. “Goodnight, my knight in shining armor.”

~~~~

Over the next few weeks, they travelled to wherever they felt like. The car they had was stolen from a junkyard, so it wasn’t like anyone was looking for it. Sure, it was a piece of crap, but it moved and it did its job.

They moved intermittently between small and big towns, usually only spending a day or two before hitting the road again. Cash was hard to come by, so they mostly resorted to stealing purses and pickpocketing. Cress felt a little bad about it, but hey, they needed to eat.

Things between her and Thorne were… changing. She couldn’t exactly tell how or why, but she knew they were. The change wasn’t bad, but it was different. And strange. And a tiny bit scary.

She’d find her gaze naturally finding his at any given moment, catch herself staring when she shouldn’t. She laughed at his dumb jokes more, focused on the sound of his voice when she should be focusing on the road.

He hadn’t changed his appearance in a long time. His hair was its natural shade of golden brown again, and he kept his face clean-shaven. The dumb glasses had been broken and dumped some time ago.

And it wasn’t just her that was staring, either. She felt his eyes, sometimes saw them too, when he thought she wasn’t looking. He was doing more and more to make her laugh. And he wasn’t being as careful to make sure she was asleep before he kissed her head goodnight.

Cress didn’t really know what to make of these changes. She couldn’t tell if these were good or bad. She wasn’t used to this, these butterflies in her stomach, this heat in her face. Sybil kept her isolated her whole life, and she was just now starting to really experience the world. Was it right to fall for the first guy her age she met?

Because she realized that’s what it was. They were in a moderately sized town, and were walking around the downtown area, looking for a place to eat and also some easy targets to fund said meal.

Sadly, this wasn’t an easy crowd. They had eyes in the backs of their heads, and after nearly an hour, they only had a meager ten dollars to show for it between them.

“Hey, chin up,” Thorne grinned, “We’ll be fine. I think I saw a fast food place up there, follow me.”

He grabbed her hand, and Cress couldn’t stop the dopey grin that found a permanent residence on her face. He’s holding my hand.

Unfortunately, it was a high end fast food place. The kind that had “gourmet” food at a third of the price of a fancy restaurant. Even the cheapest item on the menu really meant one meal to split between them both.

“You should eat, Cress.”

“No,” She protested, “Let’s find somewhere else. We both need to eat.”

He shrugged. “It’s late. Just promise to give me a bite, okay?”

She would have argued more, but she was really hungry. So, begrudgingly, she made her way to the register and bought dinner.

That was when she really realized what they were. He smiled at her the whole time while she ate her fill, head resting on his hands. He took the bite she offered, and refused any more. She knew he was hungry. And yet, he let her eat.

Anything for you, princess.

~~~~

Surprisingly, the guy hadn’t killed her yet. Weird. It had been three days. And he was still being nice to her.

They’d stayed in a motel nearby. Two separate beds. He’d been a perfect gentleman the entire time. He helped her ice her sprains and bruises every day. He made sure she was comfortable.

“Are you sure you really wanna be hanging out with me, Goldilocks?” He asked on the dawn of the fourth day, “There’s nowhere else you’d rather be?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” She responded suspiciously. It’s not like she had anywhere to go, anyway.

“No, no, of course not!” Thorne insisted. “It’s just, weird, I guess. People don’t hang out with me willingly too much.”

“Why?”

He dramatically brushed his hair out of his eyes, “I’m just too good for them I guess.” Then he met her gaze with a serious look. “No, it’s because I’m a criminal.”

“Yeah, I kinda guessed.” Also she’d looked him up as soon as she had some time alone. It wasn’t hard to unseal his juvenile record, where she found he’d been arrested several times for theft. And once for grand larceny at seventeen, which was honestly kind of impressive. That also explained where all the money was coming from.

“Oh.”

Cress awkwardly looked away. “I mean, it’s whatever. I don’t care that much how you make money.”

“I promise I don’t steal from old ladies or hobos or anything like that.” Cress blinked at that. How had he known that was worrying her?

He seemed to also understand that, too. “You’re literally an open book, princess. You’re not good at hiding your emotions.”

That was their last interaction for the day. He left around lunchtime with an empty duffel bag, and Cress decided to look the other way, for now. She made herself comfortable the rest of the time, before finally falling asleep around nine o’clock.

She’d barely been asleep thirty minutes, according to the clock on the bedside table, when Thorne burst inside the room with a gasp.

“What’s going on?” Cress grumbled as he flicked on all the lights.

“Get up, we have to go. The police are right on my tail, I won’t lose them for long.”

Well, that was one hell of a wake up call.

Thorne was tossing his stuff haphazardly into his own backpack, shouting at Cress to do the same. The duffel bag on his shoulder was full, and Cress caught a small glimpse of green on the inside. Money.

Being inside the motel for four days, her things were strewn about. She was taking too long. With only her laptop and about half her clothes packed, Thorne decided it was time, and dragged her out of the motel room.

Cress was barely inside the car before he floored it, screeching out of the parking lot. His blue eyes were wide, but nearly as terrified as she expected.

Of course, she realized later, he’s an adrenaline junkie. He lives for these kinds of moments.

But at that moment, all her focus was on the road as Thorne sped through the streets, heading as fast as the car could go for the highway. In minutes, a police car was on their tail. Thorne pressed the pedal harder.

“How did this even happen?” Cress gasped, trying in vain to take her mind off the sirens behind them.

“Someone called 911 before I was done. I didn’t notice the phone until too late. Stupid mistake on my part.”

“You know,” She suggested, the seatbelt holding her tight against the seat as they screamed around a turn, “You could have just bought a signal blocker beforehand, that way nobody could call at all.”

“A what?”

“A signal blocker. They’re super cheap at like, any electronics store. Hell, I could have done it for you. It’s not that hard; it was one of the first hacker-y things I learned.”

Thorne turned to her with a grin. “You can do that?!”

“Yes. Eyes on the road!”

Many terrifying minutes later, they’d shaken off the police tail and made it to the freeway. Thorne’s smile was huge, and his attitude was becoming infectious.

“That was awesome! We totally knocked them off our trail!”

Cress chuckled awkwardly. “Yep. Except now we’re both wanted criminals.”

Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Both?”

Cress flushed. “Yeah, these windows aren’t tinted. They probably all saw me, and now I’m an accomplice to robbery.”

“Well then, Goldilocks, I think it might be time to show you my post-heist ritual.”

Thorne waved off her questions for another half hour, before he deemed it safe enough to get off the freeway and find a gas station. They parked and headed inside, keeping their heads down and both wearing hoodies. (This was the first of many of Thorne’s hoodies Cress stole).

In the abandoned bathroom, Thorne finally showed her what he was talking about. His hair, naturally a golden brown, was dyed black, and the stubble he’d been growing was shaved off as well.

Then it was her turn.

“Cut or dye?” Thorne asked, holding scissors in one hand and a box dye in the other.

She twisted a strand of her long, golden hair around a finger. Goldilocks. He called her Goldilocks. She liked that.

“Cut.”

“Awesome. I’m a great hairstylist. It’s my true calling.”

“So it’s not actually crime you’re called to?” Cress snickered as he began to snip.

“Well, that too. Crime and styling hair.”

“What a combo.”

When he was done, her hair littered the floor of the bathroom. Cress couldn’t stop staring, or running her hands through it.

“Does this make you my official partner, Goldilocks?” Thorne asked with a smile.

“I think it does.”

It was nice to be a part of something.

~~~~

“I’m bored.” Cress complained, splayed out on her bed.

“Uh huh,” Thorne replied, eyes flicking through a magazine he’d snatched that morning.

“I’m tired of pickpocketing.”

“I know you are, princess,” He turned a page, still not looking at her.

“Let’s go rob somewhere.”

That sure got his attention.

“I’m sorry,” Thorne started, “But did I just hallucinate? You want to rob someplace?”

Cress sat up to look him in the eye. “I mean, I don’t want to do the actual robbing. You do that. But I haven’t been your getaway car in weeks, and I’m bored.”

Thorne gave her a thoughtful look. “It has been a while. And I am tired of not being able to afford things.”

“So let’s do it!”

Her partner in crime glanced around the shitty motel room. “Not here. We need to find a better town.”

“Well, duh.” Cress fished around in Thorne’s bag and procured the road map. “It’s gotta be a bigger town than this hole-in-the-wall kind of place.”

So that was how the rest of their night went. Searching for a town nearby that was big enough to have a variety of places to choose from. A quick jog from the freeway, preferably, and with a low rate of crime to ensure police wouldn’t be super prepared for something like this.

It took another day of pickpocketing before they had enough for food and gas money, but they did it. Set out on the road, a plan in motion. Cress almost couldn’t believe it. She was the one who suggested robbery.

That beaten-down girl from the suburbs far away was long gone now. Instead, the new Cress was in her place. The Cress that was confident in her abilities.

And, of course, the Cress who was also hopelessly in love with her best (and only) friend.

They reached the town quickly enough. They’d driven for longer hours before. However, they’d set out later than they wanted, and as such reached their destination much later than they wanted. It was almost one in the morning when they finally pulled up to a motel just outside their chosen city’s limits.

“You got any rooms?” Thorne asked the night manager through a yawn.

“Yeah, just one though.”

“Whatever, we’ll take it.”

The rest of the transaction was quick and wordless. Cress was slumped against Thorne’s side, nearly asleep on her feet. He grabbed the room key and they trudged to the room, both half-asleep.

He unlocked the door. They stepped inside, just like they had dozens of motel rooms.

This one, however, was markedly different.

Instead of their regular two beds, this one only had one.

Taking in the scene, Cress woke up a bit, stiffening slightly.

“Shit,” Thorne mumbled, “This isn’t right.”

“It’s the last room available,” Cress reminded him.

“Right. Okay, I’ll take the floor. Just toss me one of those pillows and I’ll be good.”

Cress snorted. “I’m not doing that. You just drove all day. I’ll take the floor.”

“What? No way. Take the bed, Cress.”

“No, you.”

“No, you.”

“No, you.”

With a loud groan, Cress finally said, “Fine! We both take the bed! It’s not that big of a deal.”

Thorne’s eyes went a bit wider. Cress could feel her face start to warm. She looked away.

“I- no, that’s-”

“Goddamn it, shut up and sleep in the bed. We’re big kids, you take one half and I’ll take the other.”

And that was that. Neither bothered to change, as tired as they were, instead just slipping their shoes off and climbing into bed.

The first thing Cress noticed about sharing a bed was that it was warm. Really warm. This was fantastic, as she was always cold when she slept.

“Cress, what are you-”

“Shut up,” She sighed, as she curled herself closer to Thorne’s body, “You’re warm.”

“Oh.”

Not only was her whole body warm, but her face was burning. This was a bad idea. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Thorne was stiff in her arms, and she squirmed closer.

“Relax. I can’t sleep if you’re stiff as a board.”

“Sorry,” He whispered. He became a little less tense, which Cress decided was good enough.

In minutes, they were fast asleep.

~~~~

Cress woke up cold. Which totally sucked, because she’d gone to bed nice and warm. When she cracked open her eyes, she noticed that the bed was markedly empty.

Sitting up, she looked around for Thorne, but caught no sight of him. She sat up further, looking over the edge of the bed.

Oh.

He was sleeping on the floor, snoring very quietly. He took the scratchy blanket the motel provided, along with one of the towels and a pillow, and had made himself a place on the floor.

Cress’s face positively burned. Burying her face in her pillow, she let out a silent scream of embarrassment and frustration.

She’d thought into it too much. Of course he didn’t like her like that, why would he? She was just some random girl he’d picked up off the road, the brains of his criminal operation. He wasn’t secretly in love with her. He never was.

It was early. And she was still tired. But just to make sure she didn’t wake him up, Cress slipped into the bathroom to have the cry she so desperately needed, before tiptoeing back to bed and falling asleep once more.

She woke up many hours later, to the sun shining bright into her face. Thorne was awake, she determined by the shadow moving about the room.

“Hey there, Goldilocks,” Thorne chuckled, “Was that bed just right for you?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” She replied, not meeting his gaze. “What time is it?”

He snorted again. “Noon.”

“Damn.”

He tossed her a bag, which she caught quickly. “Lunch. Or, for you, breakfast.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh at that. “Thanks.”

The day passed slowly after that. Cress showered, thankful for the hot water to rinse off the grime and the feelings of the past few days. She and Thorne watched shitty reality TV that was on at three pm, laughing when he got way too into Say Yes to the Dress. Finally, they couldn’t ignore the rumbling of their stomachs anymore, and decided to go find dinner.

Of course, in order to get dinner, they needed money. Something they were in short supply of. Time to work the crowd again.

They had morals about who they pickpocketed. Or, really, Cress did. If she wasn’t around she was sure Thorne would definitely be an old lady purse-snatcher. But he always made sure to only steal from well-off people ever since Cress joined him.

Her gaze followed a man dresses in nice clothes from where they sat on a bench, Thorne’s arm slung over her shoulder in an effort to look casual. She nudged him, pointing at the target with her eyes.

“Nah, that Rolex is fake. He’s only pretending to be rich. But that guy over there-” He pointed out someone else, and Cress started up the act.

“Sir!” She chirped brightly, stepping directly in his path. The man started, taking in the tiny girl before him.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m trying to find my cousin, have you seen him?”

The man glanced around. “What does he look like?”

Cress stood on her tiptoes, gesturing as she spoke, “About this high, same hair and eyes as me. I just saw him, I don’t know how I got lost!”

From behind the man, Thorne gave her a conspiratorial wink as he plucked the wallet from his back pocket. The look was clear. Keep working him.

“I saw him over there last, do you see him? It’s hard to see with this crowd.” She pointed away, keeping his attention elsewhere as Thorne rifled through the wallet, stuffing bills and coins in his own pockets.

“No, I’m really sorry. Maybe try calling him.” The man gave her a smile, and began to walk away. As he retreated, Cress spotted the bulge in his back pocket, where the empty wallet had been replaced.

“Thanks for your help, mister!”

She turned to Thorne as they made their way to a more secluded corner of the street, “How’d we do?”

“Great, actually! That guy had a lot of cash on him. Let’s go eat.”

As they walked, Cress was suddenly aware of Thorne grabbing her hand, holding her close. She glanced up at him, heart pounding.

He just smiled. “Wouldn’t want to lose you for real.”

~~~~

“Drive!” Thorne shouted, slinging his whole body into the car.

“But-” Cress protested.

“DRIVE!”

“Okay, okay, geez!” Cress pressed the gas, but Thorne sat up behind her.

“Faster! Cops will be here any minute!”

Cress’s heart was in her throat as she sped up. “But I blocked the signal.”

“And you said it yourself, it only holds for as long as the satellite is in position, which it will be out of any time! We’ve gotta go! Faster!”

So Cress went faster. At Thorne’s instruction, she did her best to throw off the tail of anyone who could be following. Screaming around turns, suddenly going back the way she just came, tearing through alleyways and side streets. She ran every red light she could, narrowly avoiding accidents multiple times.

“Maybe you should drive,” She suggested after a few minutes, but Thorne shook his head with a smile.

“Nah, you’re pretty good at this. I knew you had it in you.”

Eventually, they made it out of town, a bag full of stolen cash and goods. Thorne took over driving, but only after Cress stopped the car and demanded it.

“So, you hungry?”

“Huh?”

“Are you hungry?” Thorne repeated. “You did great today. You deserve a treat.” After a glance at a sign on the road, he asked, “Does Sonic sound good?”

“I guess. I’ve never had it.”

His jaw dropped. “You’ve never had it? Jesus Christ, your life is sad.”

Cress wrapped her arms around herself, glancing down. Thorne seemed to realize his mistake. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine,” Cress lied, not meeting his eyes. “Let’s get this Sonic thing or whatever.”

“You’re gonna love it, Goldilocks. Promise.”

He was right. She did love it. And as they sat, eating greasy fast food beneath the stars, the earlier argument was forgiven and soon forgotten.

Cress promised herself that night that her life would never be sad, not ever again.

~~~~

“This is literally the worst idea, idiot,” Cress groaned, standing awkwardly outside a place she really didn’t belong: The local liquor store.

“Relax, it’s fine,” Thorne assured her, hauling along a case of White Claws. “You’re eighteen, that’s old enough to have a little drink, I think.”

“You’re not even old enough to legally buy it!” She protested.

He smirked, waving a little card with his other hand. “Fake ID, blondie.”

They made their way back to their motel, still arguing.

“We’re going to be here for a while during the planning part! We can at least have a little fun! It’s not like I’m going to a bar or anything.”

“Yeah, but if the cashier knew it was a fake ID and called the police, everything could be done for!”

His eyes narrowed. “Wait. So you’re not against the principle of underage drinking itself, but rather the fact we could get caught?”

She looked away. “I mean, it’s whatever.”

When the door was locked, Thorne opened up the case and cracked one open. “I like the lime ones the best. You’ll probably like the lemonade one better. Or maybe the raspberry. They’re sweeter.”

Glancing between the curtains and the blinds shut tight, Cress assured herself that nobody was outside, nobody was watching. With a sigh, she opened up a White Claw of her own. “You’ve thoroughly corrupted me, Carswell Thorne.”

“It’s what I do best, sweetheart.”

That was a new one.

They got a little planning done as they drank, but as the night wore on, and they both indulged themselves in another drink, then another, they started caring less and less about the upcoming heist.

Cress noticed she felt different by White Claw number two, but had another, just because she wanted to try all the flavors. Lemonade so far was the best, raspberry a close second. Mango, despite being a good flavor on its own, was actually disgusting. And Thorne had claimed all the limes for himself.

Everything around her was fuzzy. It felt like she was swimming in her own head. And everything was also really funny, too. At one point Thorne burped loudly, and while normally Cress would have groaned and scolded him, this time she began to giggle hysterically.

Thorne shot her a concerned glance. “Okay there, Goldilocks?”

Cress snickered. “You’re funny.”

“Right. And you are drunk. How many-” She noticed his eyes widen at the two empty cans, and the one in her hand. “Shit, Cress, that’s enough.”

He snatched the can from her, and she flopped onto the floor, still laughing. “Everything’s so spinny, Thorne.”

“Yeah, I’m getting you some water. Stay right there.”

“Sir yes sir,” She slurred, then giggled at her own voice.

Water began to run in the little bathroom. What had Thorne said about water again? Curious, she pulled herself up, then stumbled towards the sound.

He doing something at the sink. Cress slipped behind him, then in a sudden burst of immense confidence, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his strong back.

“Cress?” His voice came out almost strangled. “What are you doing?”

“You’re warm,” She mumbled. “I like hugging you.”

Thorne sighed. “Not that I don’t like hugging you too, you need some water, maybe some Advil, and then you need to go to bed.”

He tried to pull away, but Cress held on tighter. “Noooo, don’t leave,” She whined.

Thorne managed to maneuver himself so instead of being wrapped around his back, she was facing him, chest to chest. “C’mon, Goldilocks, drink some water.”

She gave him her infamous puppy dog eyes, but he shoved the glass in her face. “Drink up.”

“You’re mean,” She muttered, but did as he said and drained the glass. She looked up again, her blue eyes meeting his own. “You didn’t wanna be my snuggle partner last night, and I got cold.”

Thorne looked away, and if she wasn’t so buzzed, Cress might have noticed the blush.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay? Can you dress yourself?”

She definitely had too much liquid courage. “You could help me, if you wanted.”

Thorne pulled away. “No thanks. You seem capable enough. He stepped out of the bathroom, and passed her a pair of pajamas from the outside. “Drink some more water while you’re at it.”

When she opened the door again, she instantly latched onto him again. “Cress,” He chuckled awkwardly, “I can’t move.”

“Then you can’t leave,” She murmured. For some reason she felt really sad now, almost to the point of tears. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never, Goldilocks. Let’s get you to bed.”

He tried to move, but Cress held tighter. “You’re gonna have to drag me,” She warned.

“Not a problem.” In one motion, Thorne swept her off her feet, literally. Carrying her bridal style, her arms wrapped over his shoulders, he carried her effortlessly to the bed. The single bed, that they both shared.

She was laid down on the bed gently, but Cress refused to let go. “Don’t leave me,” She whispered, over and over again. With nowhere else to go, Thorne finally gave in and laid down with her, letting the smaller woman curl against him.

“Goodnight, Cress.”

Her eyes were heavy, but she looked at him anyway. “You always kiss my head goodnight.”

His face flushed harder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She unlatched one hand, tapping the top of her own head. “Right here. Almost every night.”

He couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes again, she knew. With a sigh, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss on top of her head. Cress gave a happy sigh, and settled down on the pillow.

Neither of them moved all night.

~~~~

Everything hurt the next morning. Her stomach, her joints, her head.

“What in the fuck happened last night?” She mumbled into the shoulder of the person next to her.

The… person in the bed with her.

Cress shot up violently, instantly regretting it as her head throbbed harder. The person the shoulder belonged to groaned, opening up their eyes. Their familiar eyes.

“I feel like shit,” She sighed, as Thorne sat up next to her.”

He chuckled. “I kinda guessed that you would. You overindulged, princess.”

Things were coming back in bits and pieces, though everything was still fuzzy. “Why’d I have so much?”

“You wanted to try all the flavors.”

Right. “Mango tastes like shit,” She lamented, “I’m never drinking again.”

“Then who’s going to help me finish off the case?” Thorne chuckled.

“I would have helped you with the limes if you didn’t hog them all for yourself.”

“Princess, if I let you have a fourth you would have woken up in the hospital.”

“No, not a fourth, I mean instead of the nasty mango-”

Suddenly, as she leaned closer, Thorne winced, and backed away. “Whoa. Hangover breath. You need a shower.”

Cress’s face flushed. “Yeah. I’ll go do that.”

As she washed off the feeling of last night’s mistakes, more memories came back. But not quite everything. She was still missing a chunk: why she and Thorne had woken up in the same bed, after he’d left her alone the night before.

She got dressed, brushed her teeth, and drank some more water, before stepping out of the bathroom with the towel still wrapped around her dripping hair. Thorne stood up to take his own shower, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey, did… anything… happen, last night? I can’t remember everything, and if I said something weird-”

“Nah,” Thorne replied with a shrug, “You just got giggly, then suddenly weepy and clingy. You were really set on me not leaving you alone.”

She ducked her head, blushing. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Thorne assured her. “I mean, you’ve never been drunk before, it’s not your fault you didn’t know how you’d respond.” With that, he stepped away, into the bathroom, which was soon filled with the sound of running water.

Cress sighed, glancing around the motel room. Last night’s activities had left it trashed. So while she waited, she cleaned up.

About twenty minutes later, they were both back in the car, on their way for some coffee. Thorne had even decided to get black coffee for once, in an effort to ward away the hangover.

“So…” He started awkwardly, and Cress’s heart stopped. What was he going to say? Had she really embarrassed herself last night?

“You wanna talk about why you were so obsessed with me not leaving? I mean, I know before all this your life was pretty shitty, so I get it if you don’t want to talk, but-”

“My dad left when I was seven.” She stated simply.

“Oh.”

They got their coffee, and headed back to the motel. Thorne met her eyes again with another awkward smile. “You also seemed pretty upset that I slept on the floor the other night.”

Heat rushed to her face. “It’s not that big of a deal, it doesn’t matter that much.”

“Drunk Cress had other things to say.”

She didn’t answer.

Back inside the room, Thorne spoke up. “You wanna know why I slept on the floor?”

She shrugged. “It’s whatever. It’s fine if it was too much or something. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His blue eyes got big. “No, no, that’s not what happened. Look, Cress, have you ever slept with anybody before?”

“What?!” Her entire face went red, and Thorne’s did as well, when he realized his words.

“Shit, no, not like that. I mean have you ever shared a bed with somebody before?”

“Oh. No, I haven’t.”

“Listen, Cress.” Thorne leaned in close, and her heartbeat somehow sped up and stopped at the same time. “I liked sleeping in the same bed as you. But…”

Oh no.

“You kick. Like, a lot.”

What?

Cress nearly spat out her coffee. “That’s why you slept on the floor?!”

“Yes!” Thorne laughed. “It was all fine and dandy until you kicked me in the groin at three in the morning!”

Her face fell into her hands. “Oh my God.”

“And I mean, I had to save the boys-”

“Shut up! Stop talking!” Thorne gave a loud cackle, and Cress gave into her own hysterical laughter. “That’s what this was all about?”

Things fell back into place easily after that. In fact, they seemed to fall further into place. They plotted and they schemed, searching out their target and making their plan. They never went in blind, and they weren’t about to start now.

And when they slept, they slept in the same bed. Thorne tucked her into his chest, arms holding her steady, and she never felt cold or alone while she slept. To keep from kicking, Cress twined their legs together.

Neither mentioned the obvious shift in their relationship. But they both knew it was growing deeper by the day. They woke up in each others’ arms. Thorne came up behind her randomly during the day to wrap himself around her waist and rest his head on her shoulder. He kissed her head before they slept each night. Cress was never asleep.

The day came, the day they’d been planning for weeks. They were ready. Whatever happened today, they knew that no matter what, they’d always have each other at the end of the day.

~~~~

“Cress, you read me?”

Sitting in the car, ready and waiting for his voice, Cress replied, “I read you. How’d it go?”

“Without a hitch! Incoming in about three minutes.”

“I got you, captain.”

“Ooh,” Thorne chuckled over the speaker, “I like that.”

Cress rolled her eyes. “Focus on running, doofus. I’ll be there.”

“Mwah!” The line went dead, and Cress tossed the burner phone like she always did. She arrived at the rendezvous in two minutes, eight seconds, leaving the doors unlocked for their quick exit.

Thirty-four seconds later, and the familiar sight of Thorne running for his life arrived. With a wild grin, he threw himself and the bag inside, and Cress sped away. At this point, she was an expert at losing the police.

“How much?”

“Close to five thousand!” He beamed. “It’s gonna last us a long time!”

“You’re fantastic,” She grinned back.

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s all you. I’d totally be in jail by now if I hadn’t met you.”

“I mean,” Cress giggled as she sped out to the freeway, “Prison’s always still on the table.”

“Then don’t get us caught, blondie.”

“You wanna stop at a gas station and change your look?”

Thorne glanced in the mirror, seeing they weren’t being followed. “No, I think the ski mask was enough. Plus, I wore the lifts in my shoes just like you said, so they can’t see my real height.”

“Cool. So, where to now?”

Thorne leaned back in his seat. “Wherever your heart desires, milady.”

Cress smiled softly, finding his hand over the center console. “Okay. Let’s go.”

~~~~

They switched cars that night, then kept driving. The adrenaline was keeping Cress going, even as Thorne finally dozed off. She’d forgotten how good that rush felt. Thorne had fully turned her into an adrenaline junkie, the same as him.

During the planning phase, they plotted their escape route thoroughly. There were multiple directions to exit, and they scoped each one out to see what worked the best. In the process, she’d looked extensively at the road map. And for whatever reason, the tiny, blip-on-the-map town called Farafrah was calling to her.

So that was where she went. It wasn’t too far away, but far enough that they’d be safe from the police of the other city. They could lay low for a bit before continuing on. There were so many other places to go. Cress wanted to see it all.

This time, it was Cress who drove through and got dinner. Cress who rented the motel room for the night. And it was Cress who urged Thorne out of the car and inside. Where the single bed was waiting.

They had their routine down pat. They rinsed off, even though it was eleven o’clock, changed into pajamas, and settled down for the night. Cress curled into Thorne’s side, her safe place.

“Goodnight.” Tonight, his kiss was on her forehead. And tonight, it lingered. Cress was smiling as she fell asleep.

Many hours later, she was woken up by another gentle kiss to her head. “C’mon princess, you’ve had enough beauty sleep.”

She rolled over, a contented smile on her face, even if she had to squint at the light coming in through the curtains. “Morning,” she whispered, voice raspy from sleep.

“I’ve found a nice brunch spot. I think you deserve something nice after everything yesterday.”

Cress sat up, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You spoil me.”

“You know it, Goldilocks. I bet this place is gonna be just right.”

That earned him a pillow to the face, Cress rolling her eyes. “You doofus.”

“OH! I’ve been mortally wounded by my dear lady!” Thorne groaned from the floor. Cress peered over at him, only to have the pillow chucked back at her head.

“You don’t know what you’ve just started,” She warned with a smile. Within seconds they were in a full on pillow fight, flinging pillows bath and forth as they screamed with laughter.

After a few minutes Thorne managed to get the upper hand, smacking her right across the face with a pillow. Cress was knocked down on the bed, and he pinned her down with a laugh. A moment later his fingers found purchase under her arms, and he tickled her until she squealed.

“Stop! Stop! I forfeit!” Cress giggled, squirming away. Thorne was panting with laughter, still sitting on top of her.

“Learned your lesson, princess?”

She smacked his face with another pillow and escaped to the bathroom with her clothes.

Finally, nearly half an hour after she woke up- a new low for the duo who could get up and out in three minutes- they made their way to a little brunch spot in the middle of the littler town.

Their waitress was a woman about their age with a prosthetic hand named Cinder. She had a lot of personality, and had enough sarcasm to rival each of Thorne’s witty remarks.

About halfway through the meal (which was delicious), a little idea began to form in Cress’s mind. When Cinder came back to refill their drinks, Cress decided to ask her a question.

“How’d you end up here?”

The waitress shrugged. “Car broke down. Stayed to get it fixed, ended up making some friends and decided to stay. I could ask the same of you two.”

Thorne and Cress glanced at each other, before Cress replied simply, “Travelling through.”

Later, when she came back to deliver the check, Cress asked another question: “If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?”

Both Thorne and the waitress gave her a quizzical look. Thankfully, neither asked for elaboration. Instead, Cinder donned a slightly puzzled look as she thought.

Finally, she responded, “I want to open up a mechanical repair shop. For all kinds of machines.” Her dark eyes lit up as she began to ramble a little bit, about all the kinds of things she could do, what she could learn. But after a minute, her voice took on a slightly somber tone. “But, that’s not gonna happen. I’m always worrying about rent nowadays, I don’t have enough to save for anything.”

“How much is your rent?” Cress continued. The waitress stiffened.

“Why do you want to know?” She asked suspiciously.

Cress squeaked, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, but…” She scrambled for a quick lie.

Thankfully, Thorne picked it up for her. “We’re thinking of moving here. We just wanted to know how much rent was.”

Cinder relaxed. “Oh. Well, it’s about $600 a month.”

Cress smiled, taking the check from their waitress. “Thanks, Cinder. It was great. We’ll fill this out in a minute.”

Clearly dismissed, the woman offered them a smile before departing. When they were alone again, Thorne turned a questioning gaze over to her. “What was that all about?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. I just… wanted to know. She seemed nice.”

“I agree. I’ll give her a good tip.”

Cress’s smile got big. “Wait, let me run back to the car real quick. I want to give her a big tip.”

She came back just two minutes later, her pockets stuffed. Thorne’s eyes got big. “How big a tip do you mean?!”

Cress methodically smoothed the $50 bills out, keeping them out of sight below the table. She tied the stack with a hairtie she kept on her wrist, and stuck it inside the little checkbook left on the table. Just to make sure they were really clear, she scribbled out on the receipt, “The money is for the meal. The rest is for you. Good luck.”

Primly, Cress stood up, brushing her leggings off. She offered her hand to the man sitting next to her, whose jaw was pretty much on the floor. Almost in a daze, he took it, and she led him out to the car.

Finally, back in the motel, Thorne rounded on her. “What the hell, Cress?! How much money did you give her? A thousand? Two?”

“Two thousand.”

“What the fuck! Why?!”

“Because,” Cress took his hand, looking deep into his blue eyes, “She needed it. More than we do, really. Thorne, whenever we run low on money we pickpocket and we steal and we rob. That girl, she’s too good for any of that. And if something like that didn’t happen, she was going to spend the rest of her life stuck in that restaurant, in this town in the middle of nowhere where she’d never grow.”

Thorne sighed heavily, rubbing the back of her hand with her thumb. “I wish you’d at least told me before you did it.”

“Why?”

That gave him pause. “I guess… we’ve been so in sync for months now. I feel like I know you, Cress, more than I’ve ever known anyone. And yet, I had no idea you were nice enough to just give away two thousand dollars to a stranger.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re that nice too, Thorne.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

Cress gave his hand a little squeeze. “If you weren’t that nice, you’d have taken the money back. You like to pretend you’re this big bad hardened criminal, but you’re still good, deep down. You show me that every day.”

At that, he pulled her in for a hug. “It’s because of you, Cress. Blondie. Goldilocks. Princess. Every day, you remind me that there’s still good in the world. Even if it’s not us doing the good. But you… you make me want to be good.”

Cress might have been crying. Thorne was definitely crying, his tears falling into her golden hair. “You saved me. Carswell Thorne, you saved my life that night. I always dreamed when I was little that someday I’d be saved. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

Thorne pulled away, still holding her, still sniffling. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Cress. I hope you know that.”

“I hope you know you’re the same to me.”

~~~~

They decided to stick around in Farafrah for a few more days. They had a bit more money to burn on fun before they got moving again and needed to get back in the swing of their criminal ways. The pair spent the day exploring the little down, taking in the sights. And at night, they cuddled in bed, watching whatever happened to be on TV until they got so tired their eyes were falling closed.

It was the morning of their second day when the objective suddenly changed.

Thorne came into the room, bringing coffee and croissants with him. As well, he’d managed to procure a local newspaper, which he handed to Cress alongside her breakfast.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for about twenty minutes, simply basking in the other’s presence as they ate. When she finished with her croissant, Cress opened up the paper.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

“Cress?” Thorne glanced over when he heard the soft gasp. “What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she passed him the paper, pointing out an article. It wasn’t hard to miss, in big, bold letter along the top: LOCAL ANIMAL SHELTER UNDER INVESTIGATION DUE TO CLAIMS OF ABUSE AND NEGLIGENCE.

“Shit,” Thorne muttered, “That’s awful.”

“Those poor animals,” Cress lamented with a sad sigh. “I wish we could do something about it.”

For Thorne, he thought that was the end of it. He headed out to go explore some more, but Cress opted to stay behind. He didn’t think too much of it; she was a fairly antisocial personality and had done a whole lot of talking to strangers the past few days. She probably just needed a day to herself to recharge.

What he didn’t expect, however, was to come back several hours later to find empty coffee cups and a couple RedBull cans strewn about, and Cress hunched over her laptop looking nearly frantic.

“Whoa, what’s all this?” She glanced up, and Thorne took a step back. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot.

“Thorne. I’ve got it! I know how we can do something! We can save all those animals! Come here!”

Cautiously, he took a few steps closer. Cress grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him over. She was surprising strong for someone so petite.

And what he saw pulled up on her screen…

HOW TO MAKE A HOMEMADE BOMB

“Whoa! Cress, slow down!”

“But I figured it out! Sit down, I’ll go over it with you!”

He yanked his arm away. “Cress. Look at me. Listen to me. We cannot blow people up because they might be abusing some shelter animals.”

Her blue eyes hardened. “Well, that isn’t the plan. We’re not blowing up people. Even if they deserve it.”

“When did you get so violent all of a sudden?” He took another glance around the room. “I’m never letting you have a RedBull ever again.”

“But-”

“No. No bombs. The police will take care of whatever’s going on with the shelter.”

Cress gestured around the room, almost violently. “How can we trust that?! The police haven’t caught us yet.”

Thorne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. What the hell. Tell me your plan.”

She almost squealed with delight, but he cut in- “That doesn’t mean we’ll do it though. And if you go solo and get caught, I’m not bailing you out for your own mistakes. We don’t bomb. We rob.”

“Okayokayokay, listen up. Here’s how it goes…”

~~~~

It was exactly two months since they’d met, and the new duo had just completed their third heist. They’d robbed a fast food joint after it closed. Cress was really good at finessing the alarms so they didn’t sound as they emptied the registers.

Now, they were still driving. It was late, and Thorne was beginning to doze off. He needed to find a rest stop soon, or risk running them right off the road.

As for Cress, she was quickly headed in the same direction. Her head would tilt forward as she fell asleep, just for a few seconds, then rapidly jerk back, and she’d go back to fighting sleep.

“You can sleep, you know, blondie,” Thorne offered. “I’m looking for a rest stop so we can sleep for a bit.”

“But you’re driving,” She protested through a yawn, “I don’t want you to be alone.”

He cracked a smile at that. “I’m not alone. I’ve got you now.”

“No, but-” Another yawn- “You won’t have anyone to talk to. I’ve gotta keep you awake so you don’t kill us both.”

“I’m not gonna kill us both.”

Her eyes flicked up, out the windshield. “You’re drifting.”

“Shit.” She was right. He rubbed at his eyes, wishing they’d stopped at that gas station a few miles back to grab an energy drink. The rest stop was about two miles ahead, but Thorne was really beginning to struggle.

“Can’t fall asleep…” Cress mumbled, just as her head tilted forward again. Thorne snorted when, once again, she jerked up with a groan of frustration.

“Just sleep, Cress,” Thorne urged gently. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

She gave a cursory glance out the car, seeming to check and make sure he was still driving correctly. Finally, after another long minute, her head titled. She was falling asleep again.

This time, however, she dozed off with her head against his shoulder.

Maybe it was the time of night. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. But for whatever reason, having Cress against his shoulder, safe and sleeping, felt right. More right than anything else had in his nineteen years of life.

They made it to the rest stop ten minutes later. Thorne pulled off to the side and put the car in park before turning it off. Cress snoozed on.

Finally, he could relax. Thorne leaned back with a contented sigh, smiling a bit to himself as Cress nestled further against him.

He wrapped an arm over her shoulder, keeping her close by. And, for whatever reason, that felt right too.

Maybe it was the same reason that caused him to plant a tiny, barely-there kiss to the top of her golden head.

Yeah. It was just the sleep deprivation, for sure.

~~~~

They were doing this. They were actually doing this. Thorne was going crazy. Why had he agreed to this again, exactly? He shot a glance at the blonde woman at his side.

Right. Her. Since when had his judgement been so addled around her?

Always, idiot, his brain reminded him.

Shut up, brain.

They were inside the largely-contested Farafrah Animal Shelter. The same one that was under investigation for abuse and negligence.

Holding his hand, Cress smiled brightly at the man leading them among the cages. Her other hand gripped the straps of her purse. To everyone else, the smile was genuine, but to Thorne, who knew her best, it was as fake as could possibly be.

“And these are all of our felines we have at the moment. Do any of them possibly interest you?”

Cress shot Thorne a smile, this one a bit more real. “Let’s look around, darling, shall we?”

“Of course, my dear.” He gave her his best impression of an adoring look. Little did he know it was about as real as it could get.

“I’ll give you two a moment. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Cress squeezed his hand harder and dragged him to the farthest cage in the room. As they passed cage after cage, they saw the same things they had with the dogs: matted fur, frightened animals, some so scrawny their ribs were evident even from a distance. Neglect. It was bad. They reached the end of the room, and Cress took a glance inside the cage they stood next to.

Instantly, her face lit up as she took in the cat. It was a black and white thing, scrawny really, the nametag reading “Boots”.

“He’s so cute!”

“No.”

“But-”

“That’s not why we came,” Thorne sighed, making sure the man was really gone.

Cress sighed. “But he’s so cute. And wouldn’t it be nice to have a little companion?”

“A cat? As a roadtrip companion?”

“A cat is better to your criminal look, you know. So you can turn around in a chair dramatically while stroking his fur and say ‘I’ve been expecting you’.”

Thorne rolled his eyes. “Life’s not a TV drama, princess.”

“Life is its own drama! Make it your own!”

“How would we even take care of a cat on the road?”

Cress dragged him closer to the cage. “Just look at him. Look at his sad little face. He’d be the perfect roadtrip cat. I just know it.”

Thorne opened his mouth to protest again, but then the black and white furball gave a plaintive mewl and all the thoughts left his brain.

“Okay… he’s kind of cute… I guess.”

Cress nearly squealed with delight. “He is! Besides, think about it; we need a plan to get into the office. It’s the perfect ruse!”

Boots the cat meowed again. “You wanna go commit crimes with us, buddy?” Thorne asked.

“Meow!”

“He says yes,” Cress whispered conspiratorially in his ear. “Let’s get him.”

As they walked to the office, Thorne hung his head in defeat. “I can’t believe I just let you talk me into getting a crime cat.”

The blonde had a bounce in her step, swinging their joined hands delightedly. “You’re fully at my disposal.” Oh, she didn’t know how right she was.

It took a few minutes to reach the office from the kennels, but they both knew that. Cress had hacked the blueprints for the building several days ago, and they’d both memorized them from top to bottom. The offices were the furthest away from the kennels, likely to keep the noise down.

Finally, they reached their destination. Cress knocked politely on the door, bringing out her most innocent look. The one that always served the perfect distraction while Thorne expertly stole their wallet.

The man answered the door after one knock. “Have you made a decision?”

Cress and Thorne locked eyes, then turned back an nodded in unison. “We have.”

The paperwork was extensive, and Thorne was sure he had to sign his name at least a hundred times. He made sure to read carefully, though; Cress had warned him about possible legal traps. By law, animals shelters were required to vaccinate all their animals before adoption, and strongly push the idea of neutering. But in the paperwork, vaccines were of no mention. The entire time, the man simply sat silently with a small serpentine smile.

Finally, after the paperwork was signed and handed back, the man stood, offering Thorne a hand to shake, which he took reluctantly. “I’ll go pick up your new lovebug, okay?”

“May I come with you? Please?” Cress employed the puppy dog eyes. They were about eighty percent effective on Thorne, and that was after he spent months working to resist them. The man stood no chance.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

“I can’t wait! Darling, hold my purse; I want to hold the precious kitty.”

The man herded Cress out of the room, leaving Thorne to sit quietly by himself.

Or so he thought.

When he was sure they were gone, the young man sprung into action. Inside Cress’s purse was a small package, hardly bigger than his hand. A homemade bomb she’d spent days researching. It was activated by a remote control, so it could be jostled as much as he desired and still wouldn’t explode.

It was important it was planted in the office. They would detonate it after hours, so no people would be injured, and it was far enough away to keep the animals unharmed. Their only goal was to make the place unusable, which would then force the animals to be relocated to other shelters where they’d hopefully receive better care.

Thorne moved quickly and efficiently, like he always did with his missions. There was a reason he was such a successful robber; he didn’t get distracted, and he always got the job done. After a minute of rifling around the room, he settle on hiding the bomb in a bookshelf on the far wall. This office’s wall was also an outside wall, so it was nowhere near another living soul. Perfect.

Five minutes later, the pair returned, Cress carrying a new cat carrier. “Here he is, darling! The newest member of the family!”

The goodbyes were quick after that. They made it to the petshop part, where they bought some food and the most important part: a cat leash. They walked out with their new charge, both of them pretending to ignore the front desk lady’s comment of “such of cute couple!”.

“Phase one, complete!” Cress said with a smile, still holding his hand. In the cage, the cat, Boots, seemed to give them almost a grateful look. Almost like he was saying thanks for getting me out of there.

Thorne gave a glance behind him, to the retreating animal shelter. “Phase two in t-minus eleven hours.”

Cress leaned against him as she walked. “Aye aye, captain.”

~~~~

Phase two of their master plan commenced, as said, eleven hours later. The duo spent the next several hours getting acquainted with their new cat, whom they hadn’t even intended on buying. As it turned out, Boots was a fantastic cat. Affectionate and sweet, he warmed up to both of them instantly. And he didn’t seem to mind the car either, one of the most important factors.

Later in the evening, they packed up. Their motel room was paid for another whole day, but that was just a countermeasure. They already had a secondary vehicle in waiting, and would abandon their current one in the motel parking lot. As always, they had everything planned down to the last detail.

Now for the big finale, and the most difficult part, too. Sneak close enough to detonate the bomb, then get away fast enough to not get injured in the blast and not caught up in the investigation.

The sneaking part was easy enough. They’d done that plenty of times. Sure, Thorne had to boost her over a few fences, and they had to do some real super-spy action in a tree to get over a sleeping dog’s head, but they made it without a hitch.

The concrete walls of the animals shelter loomed before them. They tracked around it once, scanning for anyone who could get in their way, and came up empty. Time for the moment of truth.

Cress and Thorne met up at the point, the spot Cress had calculated earlier to give them the best chance of success based on the bomb’s location.

She took a deep breath. Now or never.

Silently, Thorne’s hand laced with her own. Cress held the detonator out in front of her.

And she pressed it.

~~~~

Smoke. Smoke and fire. Smoke and fire and haze and blood and pain-

“Thorne-” Cress gasped, throat rasping, “Something went wrong!”

There was no answer.

Cress suddenly became aware that she was alone. She was lying in the dirt, still gripping the detonator. And Thorne wasn’t with her.

A massive section of the wall was complete dust. Fire and smoke billowed out, clearly originating from the point where the bomb must have been. A few stray papers fluttered about, before they were quickly seized by the flames.

“Thorne?” Her voice was quiet.

“Thorne!” Louder.

“THORNE!” Cress shoved herself up, testing each limb. Everything was in working order. Despite that, she knew something was wrong, so wrong.

The explosion shouldn’t have been that big. She calculated it over and over again, even explained the math to Thorne so he could do it himself. They both got the same answer.

This was not their answer. The fire was spreading quickly. Alarms went off inside, but the spray of water was doing little to quell it.

Nearly robotically, Cress pulled her burner phone from her pocket. She and Thorne had gotten them in case of emergency. They hadn’t expected to use it.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“There was an explosion at the animal shelter. There’s a huge fire. Hurry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Don’t let anyone get hurt. Please.”

She hung up before the operator could speak again. With all her might, she hurled the phone into the fire. By the time they found it, it would just be an unusable hunk of metal.

And then she ran.

All the scheming, all the plotting, all the plans went out the window. It was the dead of night, and Cress ran. She didn’t dare yell for Thorne; she had that much sense left. But with every step she felt it.

Something had gone horribly wrong, somehow. She must have forgotten something in her calculations. Maybe her information was wrong.

If both of them got out unscathed and unarrested, it would be a miracle, she knew it.

So lost in her own thoughts, she nearly ran face-first into someone who had stepped out onto the sidewalk. With a scream, Cress came to a screeching stop, standing and panting as she assessed the situation before her.

The woman was young, with dark hair and eyes and tan skin. And her hand… it was strange. A flash of recognition appeared in her eyes.

“Cinder…” Cress breathed. The other woman startled.

“Oh my God. It’s you.”

“I- it’s not what it looks like-” She followed Cinder’s gaze. Right to the detonator still in her hand.

“I swear, nobody was supposed to get hurt. I already called the fire department, if they get there in time they’ll save the animals-”

“Cress,” Cinder whispered, “Stop talking. Just go. If I see police I’ll cover for you. I promise.”

She stood still. Flabbergasted. “W-why would you do that?”

Cinder shrugged. “Because I know you’re a good person. Maybe you’ve got a convoluted way of showing it, but you’re good. Besides,” she cracked a tiny smile, “It’s thanks to you I might have a shot at my dreams.”

Then her voice took on a note of sudden seriousness. “Get out of here. The Farafrah police are no joke. Take the back alleys.”

Cress nodded numbly. “I will, I just have to find Thorne first.”

Cinder stepped closer, pulling her into a sudden hug. “Thank you. Both you and your dummy boyfriend.”

Cress found herself blushing, despite the situation. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

The other woman smirked. “He should be. He’s madly in love with you. He’d move the heavens and earth for you. Maybe consider telling him how you feel. Of course, after you’ve gotten out of here.”

“Right.” Cress chuckled. “Bye, Cinder. It was lovely meeting you.”

With that final goodbye, Cress began to sprint. Just as Cinder suggested, she took the back alleys. Thorne would be okay. He had to be. He’s okay. He has to be.

By the time she made it to the abandoned parking lot, the rendezvous point, police sirens had joined the firetrucks. The stolen red car… it was on! Idling in one place, waiting for her.

“Cress!” Thorne shouted, flinging the door open and throwing himself at her. He pulled her into his strong arms, pressing his face against her soot-stained hair. “God, I was so worried. I couldn’t see you in the dark so I headed back here. I was just about to go searching.”

Cress didn’t want to let go of him. Not now, not ever. But… “We’ve gotta go.”

“I know,” Thorne breathed, “But I was just so worried. It made me think… what if I lost you?”

She pulled back, just slightly, just enough to see his face in the dark. “What do you mean.”

“I mean, I started to think about you, Cress. How much I’d miss you. And how much I’d regret it if I lost you, and I hadn’t even done this…”

His voice trailed off, and Cress was about to ask what on earth he meant, when suddenly his lips were on hers.

Carswell Thorne is kissing me. Kissing. Me.

Her brain might have short-circuited, just a bit. But after a moment of frozen hesitation, she was kissing him back with just as much fervor, taking his face in her hands to pull them impossibly closer.

Thorne’s head tilted, and their lips fit together like they were always meant that way. His hands stroked at her golden hair, the hair he loved to much. What the hell; the girl he loved so much.

He might have told her as much when they finally came up for air, and she might have said it back. But all words were forgotten moments later, when they both spotted the flashing lights in their peripherals.

A police car, heading to the scene. If they were seen…

“Hey,” Cress whispered, beaming so wide her face hurt as she tugged on Thorne’s sleeve, “How about you be my getaway car for a change?”

“Yeah?”

She stood on her tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Risky, in their situation. “Yeah.”

Thorne brought her hand, so small and delicate, to his lips. “For you, Cress, you know I’d do anything. Crime for the sake of crime. Crime for the sake of justice. Whatever it is, wherever life takes us, just know that you’ll always have me. I promise I’ll never let you feel alone, ever again.”

He stroked a stray tear from her face. “C’mon, Goldilocks. It’s time to make our grand exit.”

She made herself comfortable in the passenger seat, glancing where she knew the gun lay, tucked inside the glovebox, just for show, never loaded. The gun that saved her life.

Thorne tore out of the parking lot, speeding down the streets of the tiny town at three am, just begging to be chased as they passed the animal shelter. The fire was nearly out, animals being evacuated by the second.

She caught his gaze with her own. Blue on blue. “Police chase, huh?”

He smiled, gripping her hand in his own. “You know I like to show off.”

Sirens blared behind them. Cress’s grin grew. “Then let’s give them a show.”

Thorne leaned down and kissed her over the center console. “I thought you’d never ask.”

~~~~

a/n: Oh my gosh. I cannot believe I just wrote that. All that. I haven't written in a month and this felt fantastic!!! I hope y'all enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are so appreciated! <3

[mc-lukanette]

Grade for Each Other (Part 9)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8]

Luka stirred to the sound of idle conversation and the smell of breakfast being cooked. He rolled onto his side, enjoying the comfort of the couch-turned-bed, but still let out a groan at his own grogginess.

The idle conversation ceased at the simple noise.

"A-ah—!" Marinette's voice rang out, only for her to clam up a moment later.

He opened his eyes, turning his head towards her as he sat up.

She buried her face into her hands and whined. "I really did wake you! I'm sorry, Luka!" She paused, then peeked out from between her fingers, greeting him awkwardly, "Um... good morning, by the way."

"Good morning, and don't worry. Even if you did wake me up," he began, knowing that he couldn't be sure if he'd woken up normally or not, "this was the best thing that I could've woken up to."

He enjoyed the way her face heated up at the comment. Maybe it was the fact that he'd just gotten up, but he supposed it was more bold than his usual.

Sabine, who Luka only just now noticed was there, greeted him as well. "Good morning. Marinette and I were just talking about you and how she wanted your breakfast to be perfect for you."

"I-I didn't say that!" Marinette argued. "...Even if it's true!"

She turned away from Sabine's amused expression and glanced at him, embarrassed. He simply smiled at her, reassuring her without words that everything was fine. She smiled sheepishly back at him.

Then, his eyes wandered downwards, and he realized that she hadn't changed into her normal clothes. She was still in her pajamas.

Marinette's eyes drifted on him as well, probably noting the lack of his hoodie+jacket combo. Her eyebrows rose, at which point she looked down at herself and noticed what he already had.

Her head jerked up. "I-I'm going to change!" she shouted, dashing away for the stairs while hugging herself as some form of cover.

Luka muffled his chuckle with a hand - hopefully it hid his blush too - then slipped his blanket off and got up from the couch. He approached Sabine, now able to see what sort of breakfast she was preparing, and it was close enough to pick up the separate scent of a completely different breakfast. Glancing towards the second aroma, he noted what he presumed to be his and Marinette's breakfast, though it was impossible to tell what it was due to how heavily wrapped up they were. He guessed it was to help keep in the heat.

"She never wakes up this early, you know," Sabine commented.

Luka made eye contact with her, having almost missed what she'd told him due to being distracted by what Marinette had prepared.

"She doesn't usually have a boy over, much less one that she's so comfortable around," she continued. "So, thank you. You're good for her."

He's good for her.

Luka knew (or at least figured) that it didn't mean what he hoped it did, but it nonetheless made him happy to hear that Sabine could tell that he had an effect on her. He'd always seemed to exude an aura of calm that made it easier for people to relax around him, but he was always surprised when it extended to someone as excitable as Marinette.

Last night was still fresh in his memory. He could spin it however he wanted and think that she didn't realize it in the moment, but Marinette had definitely been flirting with him; the wink had made it obvious if nothing else. She had also almost definitely been checking out his usually-covered arms just a minute ago before she'd dashed into her room, which stroked his ego far more than normal since her first crush had been an actual model, made to look good at all times.

He couldn't deny that they were close. He couldn't deny that her parents seemed to like him. He couldn't deny that his desire to be with her romantically was starting to drown out his attempt to convince himself that Marinette didn't feel for him in the way he dreamed of but never hoped for.

Claudine's voice did an encore in his head. "A good song will never come together if you don’t try."

Luka stared ahead at nothing, deep in thought. "...Mrs. Cheng—"

"You have our permission to date our daughter."

He was so tired that he needed a moment to replay the last few seconds in his head and realize that he hadn't finished what he’d been going to say. Given that, he could only glance at her, letting out a very coherent and well thought out, "I do?"

Sabine was looking back down at her pan like she hadn't just granted him access to Marinette's lips. "We see perfectly well how you feel about Marinette, and Tom would not stop talking about you when we went off to our room last night. We were worried about Marinette adjusting from being away from—" She stopped short of saying 'her friends' and opted for, "—everyone in her old class, but she's been doing much better than we thought. We... haven't always given her the credit she deserves, and while a lot of it was just her, she made it very clear that you've helped. We don't have any reason not to trust you with her."

Luka was positive his face must've looked absolutely stupid, being some sort of mix between confused and pleasantly surprised. He was also more awake than any amount of caffeine would've made him.

Sabine, still not looking at him, let out a small giggle. Completely changing the subject before he could reply, she asked, "Do you have a backpack or anything you need to get from your home before you head to school, or are you planning on getting it on the way?"

He blinked, finally closing his mouth as he processed that. Moving for once in the past minute or so, he took a step back and gave her an acknowledging look. "Ah—thank you."

He supposed he could've been thanking her for any number of things, but didn't have the brainpower to clarify on what it was. He turned quickly, but forced himself not to speed-walk to the door despite a desperate need to get his mind working again.

While passing the stairs, he added, "I'll head to my house and get my backpack while Marinette is getting—"

Marinette's voice suddenly rang out from her room, "W-wait! Wait, I'll come too!"

He looked up, Marinette opening the trapdoor with her jacket only half on and her backpack's top strap in her hand. She scrambled to slip her arm through the remaining sleeve and put on the backpack itself as she rushed down the stairs to stand next to him.

"You don't have t—"

"—I know!" she cut him off, apparently expecting his reassurances now. "But... it's okay, right? I can?"

He nodded, giving her a warm smile. "Of course."

She beamed at him, then gasped, turning and rushing for the counter. "Oh! Let me get our breakfast first!"

She picked up the two wrapped breakfasts, observing the wrapping with a critical look to ensure it was right. He smiled, admiring her energy, then turned away and headed straight for the door. He opened it quietly so as to not disturb her concentration, standing off to the side and simply waiting for her.

She returned to him happily, a grateful look on her face as she led the way downstairs. He pretended not to see Sabine's knowing look before he closed the door behind him.

"I never thought I'd be glad to not have my school right next door," Marinette admitted on her way down the steps, one arm carefully hugging the wrapped breakfasts to her chest like they were something precious. "We get to go on a nice walk and have breakfast together!"

Her behavior wasn't making Sabine's comments seem any less valid. He wanted to think on his walk to his house and clearly that wasn't something that was going to happen.

Marinette reached the bottom of the stairs first due to the excited skip in her step. She looked back at him with a smile, blindly reaching for the door and opening it, then waited for him like he had for her.

Her not looking the other way meant that he saw what - or who - was on the other side of the door before she did. "...Jule?"

Marinette's expression became confused. She glanced to the side, then jumped at the sight of Juleka standing there stiffly and looking down at the sidewalk.

Luka picked up his pace to get to them. He had no idea how long she'd been standing there, but he was sure that she'd never knocked; not because he knew he would've heard it, but because her expression told him that she hadn't had the confidence.

Even once he stood in front of her, Juleka was as still as a statue. It's why Marinette was all the more jumpy when Juleka's arm suddenly thrust outward, Luka's backpack in hand.

Ah. So that was her excuse for showing up.

Eager to break the silence, he took it with a grateful, "Thanks."

"Mm," she let out.

It wasn't a word, but he hadn't expected one.

Juleka's eyes flickered to Marinette, who was still standing confused by the door. Juleka simply turned away, taking two steps before stopping. She didn't glance back at them, but her head was partway to doing so, making her current expression a mystery to Marinette's eyes.

"...Sorry," she finally murmured, not waiting for a reply as she continued walking.

Marinette tilted her head, then glanced at Luka. He put his backpack on and met her gaze with his own, though didn't say anything because he could see the metaphorical gears turning in her head.

A thoughtful expression replaced her confused one as they walked outside together.

——————

"You'd still be okay doing work for Kitty Section?" Luka asked, surprised that she'd actually brought it up without him having to ask.

Staring up at the sky, Marinette replied, "Yeah," then repeated with more confidence, "Yeah, definitely. I didn't want to cut everyone off, and even though I was hurt, I'm willing to be friends with at least the rest of Kitty Section again, as long as they're okay talking about it. Besides..." She looked down at the breakfasts still held against her chest, then grabbed the larger one and held it out to him with a fond smile. "I really hated the idea that your sister wouldn't want to get along with me when we're so close. I know she's not like that, but still."

Normally, he would've immediately banished any implications he could've taken from her saying something like that, but this time, he let the notes settle on the song sheet with all the others. He took his breakfast from her hand, giving his second, "Thank you," that day that could've been taken in any number of ways.

Marinette fiddled with the wrapping on her own breakfast, Luka watching to know the best way to unwrap the top but looking away before she'd done it fully. It felt like he'd be spoiling himself on what his own breakfast would look like otherwise.

He copied what he'd seen, undoing the top of the wrapping as the scent of baked goodness hit his nose. At first glance, it seemed like a crispy ellipsoid-shaped bread that was large but small enough to hold properly with one hand. It was clearly seasoned, perhaps lightly buttered, and the feel of it made it obvious that it was filled.

He took a bite before he could start embarrassingly salivating in front of Marinette; however, it proved to be a poor decision, as it was so delicious that he let out a noise even more embarrassing than that. Marinette must've heard of too from the muffled squeak he'd heard afterwards.

He straightened, blushing but nonetheless savoring the bite in his mouth. There was no way he was going to swallow like he was trying to get it over with, even if Marinette knew that wasn't the case. He dared a glance at her, seeing her curious gaze.

After the bite went down his throat, he groaned. "Sorry. It's... really good."

"O-oh, no, I-I'm glad!" she assured. "I ran the recipe by my mom and dad a bunch of times and made sure all the flavors lined up, and that it was still healthy enough and I made a smaller third one just to taste and make sure it worked!"

"It shows." He took another bite, managing to suppress any noises this time. The now-visible inside of his breakfast was a myriad of colors that looked as good as it tasted.

How much work had she gone through in one morning to make everything as perfect as she could?

Once he swallowed, something occurred to him and he looked at her with concern. "Were you up that early to do all of that for me? Of course I'd love to do this with you more, but wouldn't you have to get up that early every day for us to do this?"

"No!" she insisted, seeming horrified that she'd worried him at all. "I mean—yes to the first question, sort of, technically I was doing it for us—but no on that second one! I can make things in advance and freeze them if I have to! I won't lose sleep or anything, I wouldn't want to do anything to worry you, Luka!"

He felt relieved, but gently pointed out, "I want you to sleep well because you care about your health, Marinette, not because you think it'll worry me."

She blushed, her pout telling him that she knew he was right. Still, only a moment passed before she grinned teasingly and asked, "So you wouldn't worry about me?"

He snorted, grinning in return. "I'd worry a lot. I wouldn't be able to hit a single note on my guitar."

She beamed, her walk getting an extra bounce from his words. He was tempted to keep teasing her - to tell her that she looked really happy to hear about him not being able to play his guitar properly - but he quite liked the sound of her bouncy footsteps.

Thus, they walked in silence for a while. Luka considered it to be for the best; if they kept teasing each other, they'd never finish their breakfast that Marinette had so painstakingly made.

He somehow managed to eat the rest of his food without making any more noises that would’ve made it seem like he'd been eating terrible food all his life. He ate decently, really, but Marinette's food was just that good in comparison and he couldn't believe she wanted to go out of her way to do this for him every day they went to school together.

Just as he was looking around for a garbage can to discard his wrapper, the wrapper itself was snatched out of his hand. He glanced over at Marinette, seeing that she had the top strap of her backpack in her mouth. With both wrappers in one hand, she went to open the front pocket with the other.

Luka drew closer to her, brows furrowed. "You don't have to keep them in your backpack, Marinette," he told her. The wrappers were definitely not clean, as he could see crumbs and the darkened areas of the wrapper where hints of the butter had rubbed off.

Marinette ignored him. He first thought that it was just due to her mouth being occupied, but then she triumphantly retrieved a ziplock bag from the pocket and Luka's mind clicked with an acknowledging oh.

She slipped the wrappers inside, then stored the bag inside the pocket and zipped the pocket back up. Returning the backpack to her back, she gave him a beaming smile. "Thanks."

He blinked. Placing a dramatic hand to his chest, he asked playfully, "You're thanking me, Marinette? I haven't done anything but eat your amazing food."

She gently poked his arm, then returned the backpack to her back. "You know what I mean. It's nice not walking alone, and you didn't even complain last night when my parents were—" She made a vague gesture between the two of them. "—you know."

He chuckled, waving dismissively at her. "I don't mind your parents. They were really nice," he assured.

"I know, but—" She pouted adorably. "—I still wanted to be the one to ask you to stay for dinner!"

It amused him that she had remained upset about that. "I stayed anyway at least, right?"

Sighing, she threw her hands up. "I guess! It's just..." She paused, arms dropping back down.

He felt her hand come in contact with his own, looking down to see the backs of her fingers touching his. He looked back up to see that she was eyeing his face, as if checking for something. Whatever it was, she apparently found it, her fingers moving to slide properly to the other side of his hand so she could clutch it.

"I got tired of other people forcing me and trying to work things out to make sure it was how they wanted." Smiling warmly, she added, "If I get to spend time with you, I don't want it to be because of someone else. I want it to be our choice."

He couldn't form a response, though she apparently didn't expect one with the way she looked away from him and focused on where they were walking. He glanced at their hands again, Marinette's grip gentle but with no intent on letting go.

He couldn't help reflecting. Every amount of romance knowledge he'd ever received (courtesy of Rose's excited ramblings) told him that the circumstances were more than appropriate for things to advance, and if he turned off the part of him that kept insisting that Marinette's actions could be interpreted in any way, it really did seem like she was dropping every hint possible that this was so much more than friendship. He'd have to be incredibly dense to suggest otherwise.

Suddenly, he felt bad, realizing how much had happened without his involvement. He took time to watch over and comfort her, certainly, but she was on another level.

She'd been the one to suggest the "study date date." She'd be the one to give him a gift. She'd been the one to suggest walking to school and eating together.

And now, she was the one who initiated them holding hands.

Even outside of her, his friends had been the ones to prepare accordingly and give them alone time, while Tom and Sabine practically treated them like they were already dating. Luka had always been of the belief that Marinette should set the pace of their relationship, but where was the line between letting her comfortably make choices, and making her work for it despite him doing nothing outside of reciprocating her gestures?

She deserved better than having to do all the work. It'd never been fair to her to have to make all of the decisions, and she'd been doing all the work seemingly her entire life.

He knew - better than everyone else - exactly how much she'd been working, for both herself and the rest of Paris.

"Luka?"

He was jerked out of his train of thought by Marinette's voice. She had slowed their walk and was looking at him worriedly, her frown lopsided in thought.

"Is everything okay? You look like you're thinking too hard." Though her brows were still furrowed, she smiled and tried to joke, "That's my job."

His expression softened, mostly out of its natural reaction to her. "It's alright," he assured.

Making a decision for himself, he stopped in his tracks, still holding onto Marinette's hand. She stopped as well, looking at their hands and then to him.

"Luka—" she began, but cut herself short. Whatever emotions he was showing must've given something away, as her mouth remained slightly open in curiosity, her eyes never leaving his.

"Marinette." He took a breath. "...Do you want to go on a date with me?"

Her mouth opened wider, a small noise coming out but forming no words.

"A real date," he clarified. He then continued, almost hastily, "There's no pressure, and it can be wherever and whenever you want. I just want to date you, as long as you want that too."

She was still, but he was more than willing to wait for her response. They'd already left early thanks to Juleka, so they had plenty of time.

Not that he would've minded being late if it was for Marinette's sake anyway.

Finally, Marinette blinked, then blinked again, this time rapidly. Her posture relaxed and she started breathing again. "...Yes."

His heart skipped a beat. She stepped closer to him, letting go of his hand so she could put both hands firmly on his shoulders and repeat seriously, "Yes." Growing excited, she leaped forward and squealed, throwing her arms around him in a tight but comfortable hug. "Oh my gosh, yes!"

He didn't stagger at her weight being thrown at him, but he might as well have. He felt like he'd been knocked over, all his breath leaving his lungs.

He loved it.

He returned the hug with just as much enthusiasm, giving her a loving squeeze. She let out a happy noise, nuzzling into him and making him realize how warm she was. He knew immediately that he wouldn't have to explain to his friends what had happened since the last time they saw him.

"...Oh!" Marinette gasped, pulling away from him. "Wait! I don't even know where we could go! I'd have to think—and plan—and figure out what the best time would be—"

He cut her off with a laugh. "I can wait. You can text me whenever you figure it out."

"I will!" she said resolutely. She then turned and placed one hand on the lower half of her face, looking deep in thought as she blindly reached back for his hand. He let her take it, fully willing to be dragged to school with her if she so desired.

He was so lost in the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears that he almost missed her whispering to herself.

"And I'll be there." There was a shake to it, but the resolve was apparent in her voice.

"I... I'll definitely be there."

[Part 10]

[readerficsbyhyaku]

Our hidden ways (DJSS x Reader SMUT)

summary

What is now considered a normal part of Vinyl City wasn't always there, and you were part of the generation that saw object heads come to life.

With every new thing comes the possibility of fear and rejection, and you were caught right into it.

You never had the guts to come out as an OH lover, complacently hiding under a facade, until he made a move. But still then... will you tell him ?

author’s note

Hi there ! There is dubious consent, slight OOC-ness for DJ (in my opinion), and a whole lot of feelings. Hope you enjoy ! Also double the smut because i'm a SIMP.

Art by me

Vinyl City wasn’t always the cosmopolitan metropolis of music you knew. When you were younger, there was a time where all the strange and stranger people you paid no mind to now were a novelty. And with difference came fear.

You were in high school when new faces started attending classes, and one of them struck you more than others. Well, because he didn’t have a face per se. A giant by human standards, he had wide shoulders, immense hands and a globe floating above his neck.

And that’s when you started noticing what was wrong with the world.

You were part of a group of friends, and the guy – nicknamed DJ – had no trouble making himself a place in it. He was passionate, quite a good talker and student, maybe a little “too much” sometimes but it wasn’t a big deal. What became a big deal was when your friends talked about it – what a lot of hormone-frenzied teenagers talk about – sex.

Pictures, videos… you’d seen a few here and there, and thought nothing special of them until then. See, the arrival of “OH” citizens, standing for “object head”, had led this particular market to span a new arm, leg, whatever you wanted to call it. Object heads were becoming a kink, something out of the norm, akin to interracial but on some bizarre, alien-esque level.

And when your friends started to talk about it in this very way, you realized maybe your attraction wasn’t as straightforward for everybody as you thought it would be, and thus it made it very difficult to admit it to anyone. In an effort to stick with the group, you laughed at your friends’ jokes and manifested interest in what they’d call “regular sex”.

Despite DJ being quite integrated in your little clique, it was when these conversations started that you felt him drift away, maybe isolating himself to not get hurt. And that’s also when it hurt the most to lie to your friends, the words and laughs tasting so bitter in your mouth you’d want to retch. Your heart was screaming to go for him, to tell your friends that you didn’t find OH weird, or repulsing, but then reason toned everything down with fear. Fear of rejection, of losing your friends, of being laughed at, of being different. It was a lonely road to walk, and you didn’t have the courage to take that path just yet.

As weeks and weeks went by, your conflicting feelings only grew in intensity as you kept them hidden. At last, it was the end of your last year and the start of something new, called adult life. Not that you or any of your friends knew what it really meant, and those concerns were pushed back for another day as they suggested you went to a karaoke to celebrate your graduation.

So you and your friends stuffed yourselves in the tiny karaoke room, ordering more drinks and food that could fit onto the table, and proceeded to sing until your voice cracked. At least, most of your friends did. You, on the other hand, drank your beer while chatting with the people next to you. And lucky you were, because DJ was right next to you, looking comically big in the small room.

You were starting to get a bit tipsy, not handling alcohol as well as you’d hoped… But then again, you were feeling more daring than usual. You had scooted over a bit more towards DJ, your knees touching and you almost didn’t care if your friends saw you getting all intimate with an OH.

You were lost into staring at his orb when you caught a glimpse of the conversation in front of you. Your friends were discussing the latest news – a music star that openly stated she went out with an OH – and that had caused quite a bit of ruckus. The guy didn’t have a face – that was the whole point of object heads – and had a big television screen instead. Couldn’t blame her for falling for his looks, right ?

“How can they even kiss ??? I wouldn’t consider dating someone I can’t kiss, y’know ?” you heard one of your friends slur from the other side of the table.

“Dude, what about going down on someone ? They’re missing out big time !” a girl continued, making some obscene gestures with her hands.

This made you more pissed off and bold you’d ever felt.

“Hey guys, watch me !” you shot at them.

As their gazes went towards you, you pushed DJ’s chest and made him fall onto the couch. You promptly climbed onto him, grabbed his face and kissed him.

You didn’t expect anything other than proving to your dumb friends how it could be done, but you were surprised to feel something.

A tingle on your lips, spreading from the contact point where they met the smooth sphere. A tugging feeling when you backed away, as if he didn’t want you to let go, yet. Things you didn’t get enough time to dwell on as you pulled away and looked at your friends quite triumphantly.

“See ? Easy peasy !”

“Girllll you’re crazy !!! Going and kissing DJ out of nowhere !!” they laughed, and started telling your adventure to the people who were singing and missed on the action.

You slipped a glance at DJ, who just sat back up and didn’t utter a thing, a big smooch mark visible on his orb and for some reason, this made need flare in your gut. Just play it cool, you’re drunk, a kiss is nothing – you kept saying that to yourself. And downed more beers to hide how embarrassed you were.

At the end of the night, the group disbanded and your drunk self was left to get back home alone. Until strong hands helped you walk straight, and as you raised your head you saw DJ next to you.

“What are you doinnng ?” you slurred, tongue feeling numb inside your mouth.

“You’re too drunk to walk all the way home” he simply stated.

“My home’s closer, I’ll bring you there for the night” he then said, maybe a little lower.

“Righhhht !” you said enthusiastically “Where is it ?”

“Cast Tech District” he muttered in a breath.

That was the same district as the karaoke bar you were, so it would indeed be a closer walk than your place. Not that you had enough brainpower to process that at the moment.

As you stumbled inside his place, he helped you sit on his couch and closed the door.

You slumped down and closed your eyes, trying to get the dizziness out of your system, but to no avail.

“…’re …..y ..n. …”

“What ?” you mumbled, unable to make out words from what he said, cracking your eyes open again as if it would help you hear better.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you ?”

DJ was sitting next to you and as soon as the words were out in the air, he dived in and kissed you.

His large hands on your cheeks, keeping your face steady as his orb pressed onto your lips, sending the tingling sensation all over them. You couldn’t figure out what was happening, so you just sat there. He broke the embrace time and time again, the feeling like he was sucking at your lips, only to kiss you again an instant later. There was a fog in your mind that you couldn’t hope to get rid of anytime soon.

“Wha—” you started

“Is this why you kissed me ? To feel what an OH would be like ?”

There was no way you could answer that. This whole time you had been lying to everybody, maintaining a facade… And in front of the person you wanted to tell the most, you just couldn’t.

“Hehe, it actually feels pretty good y’know ??” you said with a laugh as DJ hoisted you from the couch and walked towards his room. He was so tall you almost had vertigo when you looked down from where he was holding you.

“An OH isn’t too bad— oof!” you were dropped onto his huge bed into the soft, deep purple covers.

You rested your head on the plush material, eyes wanting to close, until you felt hands grabbing at your waistband.

“Hey, what are you doin’ ?” you mumbled while sitting up as best you could.

DJ’s thick fingers were nimbly unbuttoning your pants, he yanked them down and tossed them away. Sleep was promptly pushed to the back of your mind as you scrambled to try and cover yourself, but to no avail. Your body wasn’t responding correctly, and all he had to do was swat your weak hands away.

“Let me show you how we object head do things”

This cut into your heart more than anything else you’d heard. There was so much bitterness in his tone, barely hidden.

And that’s when your panties went off.

DJ grabbed your butt with his hands and pulled you to the edge of the bed where he was kneeling, and boy had you dreamed of seeing him like this under you. He was still towering over you and that made your gut twist in expectation.

He slowly pried your clamped thighs open and you hid your face behind your arm, unable to look at him while your core was fully exposed to his view. Maybe you felt a breath, maybe you felt a slight tingle, but it could have all been your imagination, your expectation of him.

When he touched you, down there, you couldn’t repress the moan that slipped through your lips.

It was like nothing you’d ever experienced, like a soft buzzing and tingling coming from the contact point between his orb and your clit, and the sucking… Each stroke of his, or whatever it was called, dragged a cry out of you as you writhed on the bed. It was just too intense, too good, the fire in your belly reaching higher and higher.

DJ kept your hips still with a bruising grip as he ate you out, your back arching desperately into his touch. At some point, you felt one of his huge fingers spread your lips apart and dip slightly into you. The stretch was almost too much, but it felt so good.

How many times had you fantasized about him doing all of this to you ? You wished you could tell him, but only venom came out of your mouth.

“Wow, I guess I can see a perk to having an OH partner now, hah” you were breathless, but you couldn’t help trying to keep that wall up, to have the lie go on just a bit longer.

Pathetic. You were pathetic and you wanted to cry as your words assuredly carved even deeper gouges into DJ’s heart.

But he didn’t stop and soon enough you cried out as you came around his finger, hand fisting the sheets and body tensing as you rode out your orgasm, until the stimulation from his orb became too much.

“Fuck…” you breathed out as he dropped you down onto the mattress, unable to move a limb.

That had been absolutely intense and you felt thoroughly spent.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw DJ looming over you, his cock in one hand and spreading your legs apart with the other. His shadow covered your naked, sweaty body and the light coming from behind him gave him an ethereal aspect, rays making his slick-covered orb glint in the darkness.

“If you don’t tell me to stop, you’re about to get fucked by an OH”

And there was no way you could tell him to stop.

He pushed the head of his cock inside of you and it was so much bigger than what you expected. His finger already felt like an average dick, so what did you think his actual cock would be like ? He was stretching you open, inch by inch, as you laid beneath him.

It hurt like hell, but it was also everything you wanted and you couldn’t push him away. Tears were spilling out from your eyes, under your arm you covered your face with, as you hid the sobs and spasms wrecking your body. When he was finally fully sheathed inside of you, you heard him say

“Are you okay ?”

…

“You should’ve told me to stop…”

…

“Or maybe are you pitying me ?”

You couldn’t say a thing as he drew his conclusions for himself.

“I’ll start to move, alright ?” his tone was soft, fragile even. You hated it, you wanted to tell him you liked this, that you liked him, but you lacked the resolve.

And he did move, slowly, gently, his huge cock pulling out of you and pushing back in again in a rhythmic manner. While it did hurt at first, heat was now coiling in your gut at each of his movements and obscene sounds were coming from where you were joined.

You still couldn’t look at him, even though he was buried deep inside of you, warmth flaring from the unique contact point between your bodies.

He continued going slowly for you, even as you could feel his arms tremble from the self-restraint and his discrete, contained moans.

You wanted to tell him to go all out, that you were enjoying this, but how could you after lying your way there ? Once again, your words turned sour on your tongue.

“You can go harder you know, I’m not gonna break” you said with a dopey smile, hoping he could cast that upon your drunkenness.

He paused for a bit, and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. You could almost come from that alone, along with his shortness of breath and the weight of his arms digging into the mattress all around you. He was so fucking huge after all, and that was what you liked. Call it a kink or whatever, but you had no problem with object heads and that’s what got you into that situation.

And you came right when he pulled back and slammed into you. Your body arched and tensed under him as he continued plowing inside of you, riding out your orgasm, crossing the threshold of sensitivity and getting you ready for yet another high.

You wanted to hold him, to call his name, but you couldn’t. So you pressed your arm against your eyes harder and grabbed the sheets until your knuckles turned white, and came again before he even did once.

As you tightened around him, you heard him strangle a grunt and felt something hot spill inside of you, through the condom. You almost wished he didn’t wear one, so he could mark you as his and maybe, maybe then you’d have the courage of admitting your feelings to him.

You were coming down from you third climax when he pulled out and removed the rubber, tying it in a knot to prevent its content from going everywhere.

How beautiful you looked, spread out on his bed and looking absolutely worn and sated, he thought, something akin to melancholy reflecting into his orb.

“Hey, are you alright ?” he started, but you feigned being asleep to avoid the conversation. You weren’t brave enough, after all.

So you laid still and awkward as he gently cleaned you up, muttering excuses as he was doing so. He dressed you up carefully with a shirt of his, shimmied you inside some boxers and tucked you in his own bed.

And while you were waiting for true sleep to come, DJ’s sniffling and sobbing coming from the couch went on for what felt like an eternity.

The next morning, you woke up and dressed at best you could, trying to ignore all that had happened the previous night. Your legs felt weak and there was a dull ache in your core that reminded you of what had transpired a few hours ago.

“Oh, hi, you’re up” a deep voice resounded in your back, making you jump.

“Oh, DJ !! Hi !! Didn’t see you there !” you forced out with a smile, a laugh, anything to mask the dread and awkwardness lurking inside of you.

He began to say something, but you cut him off with an excuse and bolted out the door, making up something about having an important lunch with your mom.

“But, about last night…” he persisted

“Last night ? What happened ?? I don’t remember a thing, sorry haha ! Must’ve been too drunk !” you replied probably too quickly for it to seem sincere, but panic was getting to you.

“I’ll call you when I get home, ok ?” you said as you were getting farther away from him, the ache in your chest growing stronger as all you wanted was to hold him close and tell him that everything was a lie. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

And when the evening came, you wanted to send him a message, to tell him you were sorry, that you wanted to spend time with him… That was when you realized how cruel you had been. How pained he must have been when you pretended you didn’t remember a thing. How he muttered that he meant last night under his breath as you were busy fleeing. How he stood there, struck and hurt, uttering an ultimate “I’m sorry” just loud enough for you to hear.

A few years later, progress had been made concerning the acceptance of object heads, and you were finally making your coming-out as an OH-lover. If that’s what going to an OH bar for the first time meant, at least.

You were facing the door, still pondering if it was a good idea, and you were about to go back home when the bar opened and someone dragged you inside.

“Hiii sweetheart, don’t be shy !” a robot with a weird hairdo said as he brought you up to the bar.

A tall man with a screen for a face and a fur-collared coat was cleaning a glass.

“What would you like to drink, ma’am ?”

“Uhh�� I can’t really hold my liquor, so something soft” you responded, feeling uneasy.

“You know this is a bar, right ?” another robot chimed in, with a different accent color and hairstyle.

“Stop bothering her, TenTen” this time, it was a girl with orange skin and a big grin that sat next to you.

“So, why are you here for ?”

“Uhh, well, I…” why was it so hard to say, still ?

“You’re here for the OH ?” a green robot interrupted.

“For the object heads ?” a red one continued.

“For the weirdos like us ?” a white robot perpetuated.

“TenTen, stop it” the barman grumbled out, exasperation palpable in his voice.

The five robots saluted immediately and went to bother other patrons.

“Wait, didn’t you call the yellow one TenTen too ?” you asked the girl next to you, a bit puzzled.

“Oh yeah, they’re all TenTen” she grinned.

“They’re… all… TenTen ???” you repeated dumbly.

“Yup, you get one, you get the five of them. Like a group discount or something. Definitely not a match for everyone” she sighed.

This comforted you a bit. If a group of five male robots could look for a partner, maybe you wouldn’t look so out of place either.

“So ya didn’t tell me, what’re you looking for here ?”

You told this girl your story, as well as the ever silent barman that lent an ear to it whenever he wasn’t preparing drinks. At the end, she was almost crying and you had to stop her from hugging you in a bone-crushing embrace.

“And you didn’t tell him ??? That’s so saaaaaaaaad” she bawled as you sipped on your drink.

“Yeah… that’s… what happened…” you felt awkward, but it was so liberating to tell it to someone. Even though you definitely were the one at fault there.

“So you’re looking for a big guy, right ?” a voice on your other side asked, and as you turned around you saw a huge figure bent over the bar, its head hidden by the hood of a sweater.

“Oh, yeah, I guess…” you said hesitantly.

“How about I make you forget about that guy from your story tonight ?” the deep voice continued, sending shivers through you. Why did it felt like you knew this voice, this way of speaking ?

“Thank you but… I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. I still have feeling for that guy and—” tears started welling up so you stopped talking and wiped them away. Why did you always want to cry when talking about him ? It was already a few years ago, so why was the pain still ever present…

“Hmm ? I didn’t hear that quite right” the man next to you said, and as you turned to look at him, he took off his hood and revealed his head – a smooth orb holding a galaxy inside of it.

“Could you repeat it ?”

You could hear the grin in his voice and your breath caught in your throat because, by the stars, that was DJ. Looming over you from his impossible height and resting his head on one of his huge hands, he was staring at you as you had inadvertently confessed to him after all those years.

Your face flushed red and you babbled an excuse as you hid your face and turned away from him, but he caught you in his embrace and next thing you knew, the whole bar was cheering for you, the orange girl being the loudest.

What a coincidence it was that, after being a closeted OH-lover for so many years, you found your high school crush in a bar and that he would still harbor some feelings for you.

He now went by the name “DJ Subatomic Supernova”, and that night you also went back to his place a bit drunk, a bit giddy, something hot twirling in your heart and burning in your gut.

You couldn’t keep your hands off from each other as soon as you passed the threshold to his apartment. It was dark and you kept stumbling onto things, but he held you, grabbed you, pressed you onto his chest, closer.

Your lips met his orb and after a few heated kisses, he went down your neck, leaving what felt like hickeys as his hands stroked your sides gently, slowly. You grabbed his jacket and ushered him out of it as he slipped his hands under your top, dancing around your belly and leaving embers in his wake. The garment was discarded on the floor and so was your shirt, revealing yet another undergarment.

It was promptly added to the mess on the floor and then you felt DJ’s hands fondling your breasts, that felt so, so tiny in comparison to his fingers. He could probably wrap his hands around your torso and lift you up like a doll if he wanted, and the thought only sparked more want inside of you.

Step after step, he guided you inside his place until the back of your knees hit his bed and you fell onto it, staring at the giant above you. If the fall hadn’t already knocked most of the air out of your lungs, you would have been breathless because of how good DJ looked. His ceiling was covered in dim stars, casting a timid light upon him and accentuating his height, the changing colors of his orb, the details of his hands.

You stared at him for a bit as he stood there, also drinking your half-naked sight splayed out onto his bed, then scooted back on the mattress to give him some space. As he didn’t seem to come, you held out your arms towards him, enticing him towards you, and he did.

The bed dipped as he laid a knee on it, his huge arms on each side of your head as he grew closer to you, then sat back up as he removed his shirt. He wrapped his arms around his waist and tugged the tight garment up, up, putting on a delicious show for you to watch.

You had never seen him shirtless, and boy was that a thing to look at. His skin was deep and dark, purple like the night skies with only a few tinges of stars here and there, like adorable moles. The dim light suggested more than showed his firm pecs and broad shoulders, and you could feel heat pooling between your legs already.

You scrambled to your feet and unfastened his pants, yanking them down to reveal a big bulge inside of his boxers.

“You’re okay with that ?” he asked softly, seemingly hesitant.

“I’ve always wanted to do this”

And that was the truth. Ever since your first encounter, you had wanted to reciprocate the attention, the affection.

While you were palming him through his briefs, you felt his nimble fingers work your own pants out of the way. You sensed his hesitation though, when he went about the waistband of your panties, circling his thumb around your hipbone.

“Let me show you something” you said as you stood up on the bed, not even being taller than him on his knees.

You bent and slowly pulled your panties off, strings of slick connected to the garment, as you showed him how much you wanted him in the dim, dark light of his apartment. The soft glow of the stars reflected off your thighs as you stood there, fully naked, in front of DJ. You felt like some sort of goddess with him kneeling reverently in front of you, his member straining the fabric of his underwear.

But soon the fleeting moment was over as passion took the reins again.

DJ all but ripped away his boxers and grabbed your hips, making you straddle him. From there, you could see closely how big his cock was, hard and throbbing and leaking a bit. It rested heavily onto your belly and you craned your neck to look at DJ.

His fingers dug into your soft thighs as he rested his orb against your forehead.

“You think you can do without foreplay ? I don’t think I can hold on much longer” he said breathlessly, his deep voice echoing through his chest.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting this too” you answered unceremoniously, all concerns out of the window as you lifted your hips to match his tip to your entrance.

He helped you position yourself, and as you were about to sink onto him, he held your hips still.

“Wait. Rubber.”

“Don’t care” you breathed out, grabbing his neck and pulling him in for a kiss as you finally, finally felt him push inside of you.

God he was big, even more so without any prep on your side, but feeling him slowly impale you on his cock was exhilarating. You lost yourself in his kisses as he pushed your body steadily down, down on him, until your hips met and you sucked in a much needed breath.

You rested for a bit, both panting and grabbing at each other like an anchor in the storm, craving more contact and friction than ever.

DJ wrapped his hands around you and began moving slowly, ever so slowly, turning your insides to hot mush with every stroke of his dick.

“DJ… DJ…” you moaned out, unable to form any coherent thought already.

“What is it, starshine ?” he rumbled out, still keeping at his torturing slow pace.

You could feel every detail of his shaft going through you, the way your walls grabbed onto him as he pulled out and gave in when he pushed back inside. How slick was pouring out of your stuffed hole and onto your thighs and his, how obscene sounds echoed in between pants and soft cries as your hips met again and again.

“Please, go harder” you begged.

The heat in your gut was unbearable, steadily rising but not enough for you. You would’ve loved to drag this out but you needed him, all of him, at once.

“How about you show me, then ?” he grinned as he laid down onto the bed, his hands resting on your thighs but his hips slowing down to a halt.

You repressed a whimper and started moving yourself, thighs trembling at each up and down, hands grabbing at the covers for purchase.

It wasn’t that fast at first, but soon you picked up speed as he helped lift you up from his cock. He hit you deep every time and your moans grew louder as the slap of skin on skin increased rhythmically. You could feel you were both getting close, your muscles tightening and trembling, his hands gripping you a bit harder, leaving dents in your flesh.

You were teetering on the edge, breath short and sweat making your bodies slick and sticky, when he grabbed you in a tight embrace, nuzzling his head into your neck and leaving a few kisses there.

“What—” you didn’t finish.

His hips rolled into yours and you felt him rock you on his cock, his pubes giving your engorged clit just the right amount of friction to send you over the edge. You tightened around him, nails raking down his back as he continued rocking through your climax, one time, two times, three times and it was his turn to spill.

He sucked on your neck harder, strangling a moan as you felt his hot cum pour inside of you, filling you up and dripping out of you. A shudder coursed through you as you saw the mess you were, white onto dark, fluids leaking all over and his girth still buried inside of you.

You felt him shift a bit after a while, still not separating your joint bodies.

“Again ?” you asked timidly, not sure how he would take it.

“The night is still young, I suppose I could do that” he said while slowly pushing your back into the mattress, spreading your numb thighs once more.

And while it was still dark out, you did it time and time again until the Milky Way was etched onto his purple bedsheets and your body was deliciously marked all over by DJ.

[forkanna]

[AO3] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

NOTES: Some nominal amount of smut ahead, and minor character death. NSFW. And, of course, Elsanna.

A small belated gift for Princess Anna's 194th birthday! Thanks to scuttlepantsworld and Aether_nb for helping to make this possible – or for giving me proper motivation and a prod in the right direction, at least. Commissions are still open at this time!

Yes, I know. It's been a thousand years to the day since chapter four was released. For the longest time, I vacillated between wanting to add to it and insisting the story was over; to be honest, I had never intended to write more than one chapter! But deep down, I knew the work was always unfinished. So the time has come to wrap it up and put it to bed forever. My writing style has changed in the years since, so I can only hope this manages to recapture the magic for those fans who have been waiting. And for the gawkers that just want a laugh… well, stay tuned for the epilogue, I guess.

Min Søsters Kjeder: Anna

Well, that didn't work out so great.

My heart felt like it was crystallising as Kristoff helped me to my feet just in front of the grand ice doors of my sister's palace. So Elsa had rejected me. Again. She cast me out into the cold she created because she didn't think I could handle the "new Elsa" — that she had apparently been suppressing for years and years. Maybe our whole lives. As usual, pathetic little Princess Anna just wasn't worth clueing in on all the fine details. No matter how much headway we make, no matter how many walls and doors I try to knock down, she summons new ones of glittering sub-zero moisture to stand in our way.

"Hey, we should do something about this."

"About what?" I asked distantly, still staring up at the shimmering ice slide that had deposited us where we were currently crouched, breath fogging on the air. "I really don't think she's gonna let me in again. Not anytime soon. She's stubborn like that sometimes." Like I wasn't stubborn.

"Your hair." I looked up into his concerned eyes as he reached up with a gloved hand, batting at the newly-whitened hairs of my fringe. "It's… I can tell what this is, Anna. I've seen it before."

My brow furrowed. "What… Kristoff, what are you talking about, you've seen this? Am I the only one in the dark around here about ice magic?!"

Now he looked a little uncomfortable. And I took full advantage — by storming for the staircase again. Obviously I slipped right back down, but that didn't stop me from grunting and growling, trying to claw my way up the perfectly slick surface.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a weary tone.

"Going… to see… my sister!" I grunted, before falling on my butt.

"Huh," Olaf put in. "Maybe you know something I don't, but that doesn't seem to be working out so great for you."

"OOF! Are you guys gonna help me up there or not?!"

But we never had a chance for them to give me a boost. My new friend and my old snowman — or our old snowman, I suppose — were too busy gasping in horror. It took me a little longer than it should have before I turned to see the towering snow-giant, menacing-yet-soft features glaring down at us.

"Oh. Not… I guess."

                                                                ~ o ~

My life became a series of rude awakenings after that. They made me miss doors in my face; at least those weren't dangerous and scary.

First, we got thrown out of the palace by my sister's new snow-beast. And that wasn't nice. Then Kristoff had the bright idea that he should take me to see his "love expert" friends — who turned out to be his family. Even worse rude awakening, because I had never met any magical beings that weren't my sister or the semi-frozen creations she seemed to whip up without even thinking about it. TROLLS. Real, live, rocky, mossy trolls! And on top of that, they decided I was about to marry Kristoff, because… I don't actually know! They just decided! Wow, were they eccentric, and a little annoying.

But they were the ones that sent me back to Elsa's palace. See, their king — maybe he was a sage, or a bishop? — explained that because my sister's magic had crept its way into my heart, even though I wasn't sure how or when, that there was nothing he could do. Only an act of true love could thaw a frozen heart.

And there was only one person I loved. Sure, Kristoff was okay, and Hans loved me, and Olaf and Sven were buddies. Nothing wrong with friendship! But there was a queen in my life that I felt such a deep level of love for that no force on Earth could break it, and I knew she felt the same for me. Even if she wasn't always good at showing it. So if I was going to get defrosted from anybody, I was definitely going to go with the prime candidate.

Problem was…

                                                                ~ o ~

"I can't believe she was gone!"

"These tracks will lead us straight to her," Kristoff reassured me for what was probably the twelfth time as we galloped toward Arendelle. "Don't worry, I'll get you to Queen Elsa!"

"What happened?" I asked weakly, shivering as I curled even tighter against him. "A-all that destruction, all those hoofprints…"

He shook his shaggy blonde mane as he spurred his reindeer faster and faster. My heart was filled with deeper dread the larger the kingdom loomed in my vision. All I wanted was to be home. To curl up by a fire and rest… and see my sister. I wanted that above all else.

Kristoff got me to the gates. The officials didn't want to let him in, and I didn't have the brainpower to argue anymore; my entire focus was on Elsa, on fighting my way to her side. Seeing her dazzling blue eyes and her soft white locks above me, sliding my hands around her trim waist…

"Prince Hans!" Kai called as he and Gerda steered me into the meeting room. I felt lucky that the ice magic's effects were minimal; otherwise, I would have been barely able to walk by now. I saw several dignitaries gathered around Hans, including the Weasel himself. Odin Allfather, didn't that guy have a life at all? Or enough sense to notice nobody wanted him around?

"Anna!" my suitor gasped out, rushing over to embrace me tightly. Oh yeah… I kind of forgot in all the craziness that the last time I talked to him, we were supposed to be getting married. I'd have to straighten that out later.

"Hans! I… I have to find out what happened to my sister!"

He seemed stunned. "What? What do you mean? She left Arendelle, she left us all to deal with this winter."

"But I saw the hoofprints leading back here! From the North Mountain! Where… I know she's here, I can feel it!" And I could, I swear I felt her presence. Maybe it was just me fooling myself… or maybe it was just gas.

Hans opened his mouth to protest, but just then another guard came in, standing ramrod straight and saluting. "Her Majesty has refused any food or drink, Sir. What shall we…" Only then did he notice me there, and he saluted again — harder, if possible. "Princess Anna! You have returned! Then… you were not…?"

"Were not what?" I asked. When the rest of the people in the room began to mutter, I looked around more frantically. "Okay, I'm getting a little tired of the information wagon not wheeling in my direction! What in the fjord is going on?!"

"Listen," Hans breathed with a slight crease in his handsome brow, "I think you all should leave for a moment. Princess Anna is clearly overcome — and she is frozen to the bone. We need to give her some time, I need to take care of her and let her warm herself by the f-"

"NO. You can stay here and talk to these guys if you want; I have a mission." I turned to point at the guard. "You! Fred, or something!"

"Fredek, Your Highness," he said with a stiff bow, still looking a little out of sorts. Everybody did.

"That's what I said. Is my sister here?"

"Y-yes, but she is-"

"Where?" Hesitation. Again. "Hey, am I the princess around here or WHAT?! Take me to Elsa now! Right now!"

                                                                ~ o ~

Nothing could have prepared me for that trip up into the tower. When we were little, Elsa and I would sometimes go up there to play, pretending one of us was the monster that was holding the other captive. We would imagine our castle was Soria Moria, taking turns playing a princess — since we were always princesses and playing was about escapism — and Halvor, the hero. We usually wound up just squealing and rolling around in fear that the troll with three heads would gobble us up, starting with our toes. That was what our father always told us would happen if we didn't behave.

Father…

Not for the first time, I fretted over what he would think about all this. Had he known? Had Mother? Did they have magic of their own, and just never bothered to reveal it to me? Nah, that would be completely crazy; I would know if my parents had anything magical in their backgrounds. Still, nobody ever told me about Elsa, so it was possible. It would have been easy to let bitterness take over my heart, thinking about how left out I had been my entire life until now.

But wasn't I doing something every bit as depraved as them keeping secrets? By falling head over heels for my own sister?

"I'm sorry, Princess, you cannot pass. I have my orders."

"Skadi can have your stupid orders! That is my sister and I'm going to see her, and… and I'm the princess, and you are not. So there!"

"That has nothing to do with-"

"You're ORDERED to open this door! NOW!" That was starting to work pretty well for me. The man sighed and unlocked the door, pulling it open. "Okay, get out of here."

"Excuse me?"

"I need to speak with my sister in private! And if you're hanging around out here… just-" I shoved at him impatiently. "Go wait at the bottom of the stairwell, or something! I don't care, just don't let us be disturbed or I'm going to…" Sentence him to death? I couldn't even pretend to be that mean. "Or I'll turn you into a stable-boy, and you'll be shovelling horse dritt for the rest of your life!"

Honestly, I've never seen a soldier in full armour sprint down stairs before.

"Who's there?" croaked a weak voice as I crept into the chamber, yanking the door shut behind me. "Is… you have to tell me, have they found Anna?"

"Nope," I said with a smirk. "She's totally still missing. Probably got eaten by a muskox."

The blue-tinted form on the cot shifted and stirred, and a disheveled head of platinum blond hair raised to squint through the darkness at me. Wow, she looked a lot more rough than I expected… because never in my life had I seen her look anything less than perfect. Not even when we were little.

"I…" Once she had seen me with her own eyes, she let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. "We don't… muskoxen aren't even carnivores."

"No?" I grunted as I plopped down on the floor right next to her, not even caring how dirty the dungeon was. Can you have a dungeon in a tower? Is that not the same thing? Maybe there's another word. "Well fine, I got turned into grass by some other magical person, and then the muskox ate me."

"Stop that. I was so worried when Hans told me, and here you are making fun of me for worrying. That isn't nice."

"Uh huh. It's totally nice, because I'm playing with you. Remember how to play?"

Elsa smiled softly to herself, glancing at the tiny window. The sky was definitely awake; I knew that's what she was thinking because it was what I was thinking. Crazy how sometimes, we could be so in sync, and other times…

"I remember," she admitted under her breath. "What do you think I keep thinking about the entire time I've been up here?"

The smile that broke out over my face was bright enough to eclipse the sun. It turned just a little wicked as I stood tall with my fists on my hips and proclaimed, "Hutetu, what a smell of Christian man's blood!"

That made my sister turn to look at me with wide eyes. Which promptly rolled before she mumbled, "Oh Anna, please, anything but that…"

"Come on, you know this!" I hissed. "Just kill the troll, Halvor — cut off all my heads! Then you can sweep the youngest princess-sister off her feet!" For real, this time. In hindsight, maybe it was because we spent so much time pretending to marry each other as kids that led us to the big i-word.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" she asked, raising her hands…

My heart seemed to grow yet colder in my chest as I looked at those gleaming manacles. I'd never seen anything quite like them; they encircled Elsa's hands completely instead of just binding her at the wrists, and chains led from their tips to a metal plate bolted to the middle of the floor. Wasn't that weird? Why would any such thing exist?

Come to think of it… since when had this tower been a dungeon? It was always cold and forbidding, but the iron bars had not been there when we were little, pretending it was Soria Moria. Not that I trusted my memories much anymore after finding out my sister had ice powers and never told me.

Still, I could put two-and-two together. "Elsa, this prison… did you…?"

"Not I alone," she sighed weakly, staring down into her icy lap as she fidgeted on the cold-looking stone cot. "Father had this commissioned."

"Father wouldn't-"

"I insisted. I made him and Mother see that it was for the best, even if… if they did not want to put me in a cage. But sometimes we need cages, Anna — to protect everyone else from what's inside."

"So what, now you just… you're going to sit up here while an eternal winter rages throughout Arendelle? That's so- I can't believe you would neglect your duties to this kingdom. Don't you see we need you?"

Her brow furrowed as she turned away again. "No. Look what I have done so far. Why would anyone need a queen as unstable as me? Who can't even control her own curse?"

"Curse? Do you not remember- didn't you see Olaf? Real and as alive as you and me? You did that! And you built that beautiful castle, and made this dress- really gorgeous, by the way, I didn't get a chance to say it before."

At least I made her chuckle. A tiny bit. It didn't last long before she was brooding again, staring toward the window. "You're too sweet. Maybe… maybe I shouldn't have interfered."

"Interfered in what?"

"You and… what was his name? Hans. Or that large man who helped you find me."

"Kristoff. Wait… are you trying to marry me off to some man I just met? After all that?!"

"Anna, you deserve a chance at happiness with a man who can take care of you. If you keep pining after me, deluding yourself into thinking we can be something more than we are… then I'm afraid you'll never be happy. And that would hurt me more than I can bear, especially knowing it's my fault! All I have ever wanted is to make sure you are taken care of. That you're safe, and whole, and happy."

"Then why did you spend over a decade shutting me out? Huh? Could you really not remember how much I loved you? Didn't you realize how that was going to hurt me, losing my sister — my best friend?" So maybe it wasn't very nice, but I couldn't help it; I lost my temper.

"I…" Her chest was rising and falling more rapidly, eyes narrowing thanks to the force of the furrow in her brow. It almost looked like she was panicking again, like she had at the coronation ball. "It wasn't my decision, but wasn't it for the best? I couldn't hurt you again. And us being together, especially the way we've been recklessly exploring the past couple of days… I can only see that ending one way."

"Elsa…" Knowing I had made a mistake, I approached her and laid a hand on her shoulder. Yes, she tensed up, but when nothing bad happened she relaxed. "I'm sorry. Maybe this has been rough on you, too, but I still don't think staying away from me was the best plan. Why couldn't we have tried to work on this togeth-"

"What part of 'I didn't want to hurt you again' is confusing for you? Why are you always so stubborn, Anna?!"

My temper threatening to rise again in response to hers, I snapped back, "The 'again' part, you jerk! Literally the only thing that ever hurt me was losing you!"

"No, it isn't! You just don't remember because of the trolls-"

Elsa cut off, her expression full of misery as she turned away. Lately, I felt like I was messing up all the time. Pushing too much. I didn't want to, I just… when I see something is wrong, I have this compulsion to fix it. How can anybody do any better if they don't try?

"I've been to the trolls. They said… well, they said if we don't do something soon, this is going to get worse."

"What is?" But this time, when she looked at me — really looked — she noticed. "Oh. Oh, Anna, it's getting worse…"

"How do you know about the trolls?" I asked suspiciously, scooting forward to make sure she couldn't escape my gaze so easily. "Wait — did you always know my hair was going to get more white? The way you said that…"

"No, no, they said they fixed it," she breathed, voice strained as if she were barely keeping her emotions in check. "I can't do this!"

"Elsa, for once I need you to actually listen to me and answer my questions! How do you know about the trolls, and what do you mean, this has happened before? And why don't I ever remember you having ice magic until your coronation? The more I think about it, the crazier it seems I wouldn't have noticed something that insane! Hey, I know I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb!"

Suddenly, my sister's icy irises blazed with anger as she turned to look at me. "Don't you say that, Anna. You are not dumb. I have never mistaken your openness and your vibrance, and the naïvety that your excitement leads to sometimes, for stupidity."

Why did that turn me on? Talk about an inappropriate reaction!

"O-oh. Well… wow, Elsa, thank you. Um, I didn't expect you to say anything like that, I thought you would agree with me. Or something. I don't know." Desperately wishing I could force the blush out of my cheeks was distracting me from being able to string words together.

"Alright." Clearly relieved that I had accepted what she said instead of arguing, she closed her eyes for a moment. A long moment. "As I said, this is not the first time my magic has hurt you, no matter how hard I try to protect you. And there's a reason you-"

"Come on, Elsa! Why haven't you figured out yet that I don't need protection? Not from my best friend!" My body seemed to take on a life of its own, demanding I get closer to my sweet sister, that I show her how true my feelings really were. Otherwise, how would she ever see?

"Anna, wait-"

"I love you," I breathed as she backed into the corner, even though I was keeping pace, my hands pawing at her arms through her dress. The chains pulled taut beneath me and I saw my sister lurch from the unexpected resistance on her arms; I hadn't been paying much attention to them, I was so focused on getting closer to her. But then-

Then I let out the whimper. My sister whispered fearfully, "Anna? Anna, what's wrong?"

"Mmhhh, I didn't… well that's new…" My thighs flexed as I rubbed myself against the steel links that were now firmly between my thighs, vision going blurry briefly from the powerful surge of pleasure.

"What… are-" The gasp made it pretty obvious she had figured it out. "Anna, you stop that right now!"

"Why? It's… I mean, why can't I take a quick little break?" That was a pretty weak defense. Mostly, I was aware of how insane and depraved what I was doing was, but every second I was away from Elsa made my desire triple. At least, it really felt that way to me.

"We have…" Maybe it was the expression on my face, or maybe the sounds I was making, but I could start to see the colour rising in her cheeks. "Anna, we were in the middle of an important conversation. Please, can't your libido wait a minute or two?"

"I can… multitask…" At her glare, I finally brought my greedy pelvis to a stop. "You're right! You're right, I'm really sorry. I just already wanted you so bad, and then those chains hit me just right in- okay, shutting up," I added when I saw her death glare.

"Thank you. Now… I know this isn't going to be easy for you to hear. But I have hurt you before, when we were children. I wish I didn't have to explain it to you, I wish I could let you go on thinking nothing was wrong, but it's clear to me now that you will never stop fighting to get closer to me unless I explain why you can't do that. No matter what we both want, it just isn't meant to be."

"Okay, I… do not like that part. But the rest is good! We should be talking about these things — I mean, how are we ever going to fix things between us if we don't? So…" Oh wow, it was almost impossible to keep still.

"Your hips are moving."

"So what? My hips are here, my hips are th- ooooh, maybe they shouldn't go there. Okay, I stopped. So you hit me with some of your magic when we were kids and it gave me a white streak in my hair, and you guys took me to the trolls and they erased my memory and healed me right up? That pretty accurate?"

I couldn't remember ever seeing my sister look so completely shocked before. Literally had no words. It's too bad she didn't have something like that she could say to me, because I'm the chatterbox who needs to be quieted down sometimes.

"What? I mean, you left me some pretty easy dots to connect, and you just said I'm not as dumb as I look."

"I didn't- you don't look dumb, either! You are a beautiful young woman who could have anyone in the kingdom!"

Grinning, I whispered, "Aww, really?"

"Anna, please, try to pay attention. Don't you see how dangerous this is? Twice now I have gotten too close, let my attention lapse, and twice now I have hurt you. Can't you understand why I need to be kept away from you?"

Of course, I did feel my heart grow a little colder for just a second. But then I shook my head hard and glared at her. "Yeah. Yeah, I can see how you would think that — even how our parents could think that. Because they don't get it at all, and neither do you."

She looked so bone-weary when I started to crawl closer. Was hard not to take that personally. "Anna… what is it that you think you understand that I don't?"

"True love."

"What?"

"The trolls…" I shivered for a moment. It was getting worse, so I had to push ahead. "They said only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart. So don't you see? If you kiss me-"

"NO. Anna, you have to listen to me! Stop this nonsense!" She was breathing hard in panic again now that our faces were only a couple of inches apart. Crystals formed on her eyelashes from the tears she couldn't fully shed. "I can't. Why don't you see I can't be that person for you? I'm a woman — your sister, the queen of the kingdom! No one will allow us to be together!"

Her words stabbed into me roughly like bayonets. Like icicles she was driving into my heart. And I could see fear blossoming in her eyes, could feel the cold creeping along my cheeks. Confirmation wasn't necessary; I knew I was getting worse. The magic was stealing me from the world. And Elsa just couldn't see that she was the only one who had the power to roll back the frozen tide.

"They aren't who counts," I breathed, my teeth beginning to chatter. Then… my hips started moving again.

"Anna, this is not the-"

"I'm going to freeze if I don't move. Don't you want to help me?" When she remained immobile, a little desperation crept into my voice as my brow furrowed. "Elsa…"

"I can't help. All I can do is make it worse," she sobbed brokenly. Even if she couldn't understand, at least she wasn't hiding anything from me anymore. Baby steps are all you get sometimes.

"Can't get worse than this!" I tried to joke. And when she only began to cry harder, I reached up to caress her soft cheek. "Come on… pick your princess, Halvor. You've b-been through so much…"

And she did kiss me. I had really been hoping that would break the curse. It didn't. But I was still going to enjoy this moment to the fullest. Hey, if it's your last one on the mortal plane, heck, why wouldn't you?

The deeper our kiss grew, the stronger my urges rose. It seemed to be helping me fight off the cold, so I renewed my efforts, grinding myself hard against those firm chains through the layers of Oaken's winter wardrobe. And my dear, beautiful sister no longer wasted any breath trying to convince me to stop; she did the one thing I had always wanted her to do, ever since we were little.

She supported me.

"Mmmhhhah!" I gasped when I was getting close. "Elsa! I love you!"

"Anna-"

"Never forget! Do you understand me?" Hazy as my vision was, I could still see the furrow of concern in her brow, how rapidly she was breathing. My poor big sister was terrified on my behalf. Screwed up as that might be, it felt amazing. She actually cared about me! "Don't you ever… forget that I love you, and I never blamed you, and I… all I ever wanted was to be close to you again! And you're giving that to me, and I am so, so happy!"

Tears slipping down her cheeks and shattering on the stone floor, Elsa rasped out, "Anna, you can't go! You're the one that deserves to stay — you have never done anything wrong! It's me! I am the monster, I cursed you, and I should be the one who is slain!"

"So what?! You… didn't do anything wrong, either!" But she didn't believe me. Of course. So I had to give her something different, something that would meet her needs. "A-and I forgive you! For anything, everything, whatever you think you need forgiveness for, you got it, sis!"

We kissed again. I only wished we could have had that conversation when I wasn't riding a couple of lengths of chain; it was definitely a little weird. But the burning between my thighs demanded I keep going, and it also felt like if I stopped, the cold would win. So on I bucked, over and over into that unrelenting metal-

Elsa did a little something for me that finished me off. And I can't even fully explain it, but I had no idea anybody could use their tongue like that.

"HMMNHHH!" was the only noise I could make because our mouths were joined together, but I felt like it was enough for her to understand. The orgasm that stole over my body was both satisfying and unsatisfying, because I was still so far away from the one I loved despite the passion joining our lips. But it would have to do. At least most of the frost had been rolled back from my body so I could function again.

Once the high faded, and the blaze in my crotch was back to being a dull ache again, we finally broke the kiss to look into each other's eyes. And there was understanding. I could see now that Elsa might still try to resist, and would probably always have anxiety about hurting me, but she was no longer deluded that we weren't meant to be together. She got it. Better late than never, I guess.

"Sooooo, your turn, Big Sis? Let me under that ice dress. Gotta show my appreciation."

"Anna!"

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to have that fork with you, would you? Maybe in here?"

Elsa only had enough time to chuckle and roll her eyes before the door burst open. My finger instantly jerked back from where it had been inching below her neckline as I whirled to yell at whoever had interrupted us.

But it was Hans. Not just him, but the guard I had sent on an early lunch break. Both had swords drawn, but now they were definitely looking like they didn't know which way was up.

"Princess!" Hans gasped. "Are you alright? We heard you struggling to breathe!"

"I-I'm fine!" I laughed nervously, privately thinking I was really getting tired of people barging in on me right after I came. Maybe I should invest in a Do Not Disturb sign that I could just carry with me wherever I went…

"What have you done to her?" he demanded of Elsa, glowering. She shrank away, instantly on the defensive, so I held out my hands toward both of them.

"Stop! Listen, nobody did anything, everything is fine! We were just talking, and… and trying to figure it all out!"

"Princess, I advise you stay away from her. She nearly killed the guards when they found her on North Mountain!"

When I turned to my sister with a question in my eyes, she winced, shoulders hunching up toward her ears. "I-it was an accident. They were trying to kill me, I was only defending myself!"

"Trying to kill you? They were part of the search party — we only came looking because Princess Anna had disappeared."

"But they attacked! And they weren't even guards from Arend-"

"Please take the princess to safety," Hans instructed the guard. But I wasn't focusing on that for the moment. He had already picked me up and moved me away from the chains before the little seed of thought began to sprout.

"Not from Arendelle?" I had to raise my boot and brace it against the door frame to keep from being shoved out of the tower. "Wait, wait, what did I miss?"

Hans sounded very regretful the moment he started speaking. "Those were Weselton's men. I thought it would be good to have more in our search party, but perhaps I was wrong. They seemed to have their own agenda. But you still had nearly taken their lives when I found you, Queen Elsa. Perhaps if you weren't so aggressive with your sorcery, one of them wouldn't have tried to take you out with the crossbow."

So much of what he said made sense, and I understood the shame and regret in my sister's face. She didn't want to be a killer, she didn't want to hurt anyone. And the more I learned, the more I understood why.

"This is still my fault, Hans," I sighed as the guard finally put me down, seeming to realize he wasn't going to have any more success if he kept at it. Stubborn as a mule. "She was fine until I started pushing her, messing with her ability to… to keep it all in check. So if anybody should be in chains, it's me."

Turning back to me, Hans took up my hands and squeezed tightly. Oh, the pain, the… awkward. Yeah, it's super awkward holding hands with the guy you once told you were ready to marry but suddenly realized you only wanted to tie the knot with a blood-related sibling.

"Anna, you aren't responsible for your sister's decisions. She has still put this entire kingdom in danger. Don't you think she should answer for that crime?"

"Only if I answer for the same crime! Didn't you hear me? I provoked her into it, I was- was being a stinker, she felt trapped!"

"Don't be absurd," he responded a little more firmly, lips pressing flat. "You never forced her to unleash eternal winter! Besides, if both of you are tried for treason, how will you and I rule over Arendelle? There will be no one left to take the throne."

I blinked a few times. "What? You and I- oh, Hans. If only you were the one I love." While he was busy looking more confused than ever, I shrugged helplessly. "My sister was right. I was just caught up in the excitement of having a new friend, someone who would listen, and I didn't stop to realize… there's no way what we had could be true love after only a few hours."

"So… then…" Man, he was really breathing hard now. I felt like a colossal jerk for doing this to him, but I didn't want to live a lie. Not for a single second. That would only make this harder in the long run. "So that's all there is to it? You can't see your way to giving me… a chance? Maybe we were hasty, but that doesn't have to-"

"It does. My heart belongs to another."

You know, it's funny. Even while I was sharing a longing gaze with Elsa, small, knowing smiles on our lips as we felt our hearts warm with the power of love, Hans still didn't realize who I was talking about. Maybe that says something about me, or maybe it says something about men. About people in general. That's a question I can't really answer.

"Who?" was what he asked when he found his voice again.

"It's a secret," I compromised. Again, Elsa rolled her eyes, but I was starting to get used to that. It didn't make me feel belittled anymore.

"I see. That… that is regrettable."

Elsa still held my eyes when I heard the sickly sound of metal sliding through metal. Mostly, I just found it really annoying, but when I turned to figure out what it was and how to stop it…

"NO!" Elsa burst out before I could react.

"Alright," Hans grunted as he dragged the sword out of the guard's back. The blade gleamed red as the man curled his fingers around the spot it had protruded from his chest with the last of his breath, then sagged to the stone floor. "But I do regret having to resort to such unpleasantness."

Skadi. The guard was dead. As much tragedy as my sister and I had been through over the years, I have never seen someone die right in front of me before. Never had to watch the light of life fading from someone's eyes, never had to know his family would mourn him because of something I had witnessed firsthand. It was beyond horrible.

"You… what have you done?" Elsa was muttering in a distant voice, just as disbelieving as I was but somehow still able to speak while I was completely mute.

"Only what I had to do. Oh, it would have been so much simpler and more elegant if you could have been tried for treason and executed, Your Majesty." How could he look so casual, striding over to flick that sword at me — spraying me with some of the blood? What a sadist. "You really are a danger to everyone here, I can see that. But now that I know Anna will never consent to marry me, well… as I said, this change of plans is regrettable, but I seem to have no other choice."

"No," I breathed as he advanced on me, and I felt my heart jumping into my throat, pounding loud as a timpani. "Hans, y- stop! What do you think you're doing, how can you be so, so…"

He shrugged carelessly, as if none of this mattered to him. Maybe it didn't. I would say I knew better, but clearly I didn't know a damn thing about anything. "As the thirteenth in line in my own kingdom, I didn't stand a chance. I knew I would have to marry into the throne somewhere. Being the firstborn heir, Elsa was preferable, of course, but no one was getting anywhere with her."

"Excuse me?" Elsa snapped, clearly a lot more outraged now that he was focused on me while holding a bloody sword. Can't say I blame her; shoe on the other foot, I would be just as riled up. "I am not a prize to be w-"

"But you? Oh, Anna, you were so desperate for attention. Probably weren't getting any at home." Only then did he bother to spare a smirk for Elsa, which shot her fury through with agony — just like he wanted. Now I could see his little calculations playing out behind his beady eyes. How could I have ever thought they were dreamy before?

"Hans, you d-don't know what you're talking about," I chattered, the cold beginning to grow again. As focused as I was on Hans, and the way snowflakes were swirling around our heads because Elsa was mad and scared and stressed, there was no warmth of our sisterly bond to counter the prince's frigid scheme. "You don't know what you're doing!"

"Don't I?" Suddenly that cunning smile changed to a stricken expression. "I… I couldn't believe the queen could do that to the guard, her own sister. There was nothing I could do, I- I had to protect myself when she came at me. But at least Anna and I got to say our marriage vows… before she died in my arms."

Even while he was holding himself tightly, I gave a sarcastic clap and sneered, "Oh wow, what a ham. Nobody's ever going to buy that barrel full of last year's lutefisk."

"Won't they?" His expression turned cold as he raised the sword overhead, aiming to strike true. I was dead and I knew it. After everything we had been through, this was going to be the end. How disappointing. "The evidence will be compelling, if I do say so mysel-!"

But the blow never landed. Even if Elsa's hands were bound, the rest of her wasn't; I'm really not sure why neither of us had quite paid attention to that little detail. Hans certainly wasn't going to forget it anytime soon after she shoulder-charged him, sending him bouncing into the far wall. The crunch would have been sickening if it weren't, well… him.

"Elsa!" I gasped. "Whoa, you really cleaned his clock! Since when were you such a… oh!"

That was as far as I got before I was scrambling back against the wall, watching the cuffs around her hands frost over just before they shattered completely. I had to shield my eyes from the shrapnel, and when I lowered my arms again… for the first time in my life, I felt honestly, truly afraid of my sister — because that look in her fair features was even more vicious than the one Hans had been wearing a moment ago. Bloodthirsty.

Vengeant.

"WHOA!" I barely gasped out as I latched onto her elbows. Mostly to keep her from raising the ice sword she had just conjured out of the air. "Wait, easy, what are- what are you going to do?!"

"Ending his life." At least she wasn't pussyfooting around the subject.

"You can't!"

"Why not?!" she demanded, still struggling against me. And my sister was clearly stronger than I gave her credit for, because she was almost lifting me off the ground with the force of her arms. Again, hotter than it had any right being, especially in the middle of a life-and-death situation. "He was going to end yours! He doesn't deserve to live!"

"Because he's not worth it! Because…" I let go and quickly moved around to put myself between her and Hans. "Because I don't want to see my sister turn into a murderer. Okay? We already got him outnumbered — it's over! You don't have to kill him anymore!"

Her voice was as flinty as her deep blue eyes. "Anna, move."

"No! You can't kill him and still be the woman I love!"

I saw her hesitate. And just being that close to her, staring into her eyes, I felt the love bursting within my heart. Anybody would do anything for her, and… it's me. I'm 'anybody'.

Then she was knocking me to one side with an icy blast. My head bounced off the stone of the tower wall, dazing me slightly, but she hadn't thrown me far or hard enough for it to do any real injury. Mostly, I felt sick that my love wasn't enough to stop her from committing murder. As she brought the sword down, I screamed…

But it only clanged against steel. We had run out of time; Hans had recovered and was about to strike. Even as I watched them struggling against each other, teeth gritted in concentration as they tried to overpower their opponent, it slowly caught up to me: she didn't ignore my pleas. That bastard had been about to make another attempt on my life.

My sister just kept saving me.

"You'll… never take me!" he snarled into her features as he began to back her towards the opposite wall. With his ginger hair disheveled and that deranged expression on his face, he definitely no longer looked like the handsome prince who worked so hard to charm my pants off. Now he just looked like… Weselton. "You might have magic, but underneath that? You're nothing but a scared little girl, trying to fend off a man with true ambition! You are NOTHING!"

"Yes!" she grunted, struggling down onto one knee but still valiantly pressing back his attack, despite the cracks forming in her sword. Then she suddenly smiled fiercely. "But do you… know what's… stronger than a man with ambition?"

"What?!" he demanded with that vicious, taunting smile. "Love?"

Of course, that was all he ever got to say, because that next second I was bringing down the fallen guard's heavy helmet right on the back of his head. I could see the smile turn to a look of shock in the reflection of their swords just before he crumpled to the ground, completely unconscious. I really didn't hold back.

"Sorority, you dope," I snapped down at him, casually dropping the helmet onto his back. "You should know better than to mess with sisters."

"Anna!" Elsa gasped as her sword vanished completely. It didn't take her long to scramble to her feet and throw her arms around me, clutching me so tightly to her body that I actually felt winded. "Oh, Anna…"

"It's okay, Elsa. I'm here, I'm fine."

"Your head- you're sure? I didn't want to throw you but-"

"I get it, I get it," I laughed as she pulled back to pet over the side of my head. "Crazy way to protect someone, but I guess it's better than getting stabbed. Thanks."

"Oh. Your hair…"

"I know," I sighed. "But it's okay, Elsa. We'll figure it out together. Please don't feel guilty anymore; I know you never meant to hurt me, not back then and not now."

"No — Anna…" Eyes sweeping the little tower cell, she came upon the guard's sword. As she unsheathed it, for a wild moment I was afraid she was going to kill Hans while he was unconscious, but instead she held it up in front of my face.

And now I could see what she was talking about. "What's- huh?! Where'd my white streak go — why am I all auburn again?"

"I… I don't know." And I could tell she was legitimately confused. "Do you feel any different? Do you remember feeling anything different?"

"No, I…" But I did.

So many memories came flooding back the second I focused my mind on them. Building Olaf together in the ballroom, not outside during a wintry day. Dragon feet. Cuddling close to our mother as she sang us a lullaby, my eyelids getting heavy… All memories I had before. But they were different now; changed by something that had been hidden that was now in the light.

"Do the magic," I whispered softly, my eyes welling with tears.

"Oh," she breathed, just as misty as I was as she dropped the sword and yanked me into another clinging embrace. "Oh, Anna, I'm so sorry. I never wanted any of this, I just wanted us to be happy! But Pabbie said to keep you safe… I had to learn to control my power. But I can't."

"Oh, I think you can. I know you can." Pressing my fingertips into her back, I whispered softly, "You're my magical sister, and the strongest person I know. You can do anything." When she didn't respond at all, just sobbed gently into my shoulder, I smiled and asked her, "What were you going to say?"

"What?" she blubbered.

"Before I bonked Hans on the noggin. You had been going to say there was something stronger than a man with ambition…? I interrupted, sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry," she laughed wetly. "But… I was going to agree with him. It's love. I would do anything for my family, and I know you would do the same. And a man like him would never understand that."

"Yeah, sheesh. You'd think a guy with thirteen brothers would get it even more! But apparently they were pretty rotten."

Finally, Elsa drew back from the hug to cup my cheek, her expression full of so much adoration that I almost had to pinch myself to see if this was real. "I'm so glad you're safe, and so glad you are finally whole again. Even if I'm not quite sure how."

"Me, either. The trolls told me 'only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart', like I said. But I mean, if they meant getting myself off with your chains, well, that's pretty weird, even for people that grow mushrooms out of their backs!"

Elsa laughed a little — at first, then she grew thoughtful as her fingers combed through my fringe. "Love will thaw, hm? Well… I think… I'm starting to understand."

The room was silent for a few seconds. "So are you going to share with the class, or…?"

"Anna, don't you see? It wasn't the kiss — and certainly not your indiscretion with my chains. You healed yourself. Putting your body between Hans and I was what unfroze your heart, and I guess your head."

"Wait, what? Putting my- that was just because I didn't want you to have to kill that jerk. I couldn't stand the thought that my sister would have blood on her hands just because of me."

"And that's true love. Even if it was a little reckless."

"Hey! You could at least not make fun of me for trying to help my smmmph…"

That was as far as I got before she was drawing me into a gentle kiss. Melting into her arms was as easy as it ever was, pouring all of my longing and gratitude into her lips as our hearts beat as one. And of course, she was right; I guess protecting Hans, even if it was just to keep my sister's conscience clear… that was an act of love. For her.

A little at a time, we could hear commotion drifting up from downstairs. After taking a moment to slip handcuffs onto my former fiance's wrists, we went to investigate.

"Ohhhh, the storm is over," I breathed as I looked out the windows. "That's a relief; at least we can walk around outside without getting knocked down."

"Yes… but why…?" I turned to look at my sister, seeing her hand at her chin as her mind raced. She looked like a little junior detective when she did that. "Love will thaw. Do you really think…?"

"Think what?" But she was already grabbing my hand. "Hey!"

"Guards!" she snapped at the two who had also been gawking at the weather. "Prince Hans of the Southern Isles is a traitor to Arendelle, and one of our men is dead. Please remove the body and lock his cell until his fate is decided."

They were still clamoring through their confusion to manage a "Yes, Your Majesty" when Elsa yanked me further down the hallway, literally running in her glittering ice heels. How does she do that when I can barely run in boots?!

Once outside in the courtyard, I finally demanded, "Okay, Elsa, what are we doing? I mean, if you wanted to take a stroll, all you had to do was-"

"Shh." Grinning at me, she rubbed her hands together and then began to swirl them around each other, building up her energy — or something. You got me, since I've never done magic before. Then she curled them into claws and began dragging them upward from the ground, as if she were trying to summon the rocks from the earth and send them into the sky.

And as I watched, the ice and snow in the courtyard disappeared. That wasn't quite true; it was more like it evaporated. From the ground, the trees, the rooftops — from Arendelle. In no time, green was bursting out all around, and the confused servants throughout the castle were gasping in wonder.

"Whoa!" I squeaked. "You un-magicked your magic! Amazing!"

"Yes," she laughed, grabbing onto my hands and spinning me around in a circle. I couldn't help the peal of laughter that burst out of me, my heart was so light for the first time in forever. "Your love! That was always the key!"

"Yeah, sure!" I giggled. "My magical love!"

"No, really." Once we came to a stop, she pulled me in close, and I was struck again by how gorgeous she was, cheeks flushed and chest heaving slightly, bright red lips parted and curling into a smile. By Freya, she could have had anybody she wanted.

"You said that only an act of true love could thaw your heart, and your mind, Anna. I… I had to wonder if that's what I've been doing wrong all these years. Trying so hard to control my magic out of fear and anxiety for its consequences, terrified of hurting anyone, that I forgot… I forgot how to reach out, and let myself love you, and our parents, and… my people. That was the missing link."

My hand drifted up into her sweeping blonde forelock. "You sure you didn't bump your head when you tackled my ex?"

"Very sure. Our love thawed out Arendelle, Anna; that was all I needed."

"Oh," I breathed, knowing I looked like a shy dork by now. She had me so flustered in a way Hans could never have managed. "Well… I guess… you're welcome? Or thanks? I, u-um…" No, I could do better than that. "You'll always have as much love from me as you want, Elsa. Always."

And she kissed me again. That was never going to get old; it would always send tingles from my ears to the tips of my toes, set my stomach fluttering and my heart pounding. Even though I was no love expert, I somehow knew that was something only for the two of us.

Of course, when we broke apart we could hear the mutterings; the kiss had trapped us in a little world of our own, but pulling back revealed there were quite a few Arendellians shocked at what they had just witnessed. And I mean, I get it; their queen was acting like she was from Lesbos, not Norway, and with her own family member. That's a whole lot of Greek.

But even though I would have expected Elsa to retreat into her shell again, ashamed of what she had done, she did not. She stepped forward and announced loudly, "My sister and I have freed Arendelle of my magic. If any of you have a problem with how we have done that, you can air your grievances during the court levée I will open to the public on Monday morning. Until then, enjoy your summer again!"

Somehow, ending on that positive note triggered the automatic response of everyone cheering and clapping. Maybe it was a little bit of a trick, but it still gave Elsa the freedom to sweep me into her arms, to spin me around as I laughed. How long had it been since I felt that free?

Thirteen years. That's how long. But now we could be free forevermore. I only hoped the people of Arendelle would let us be free.

                                                                ~ Å Være Ferdig ~

[queenmylovely]

Wedding Party- Mini ii

Summary: Ben hardy x fem!reader. Your normal Sunday routine with Ben is interrupted by a hangover. 

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: cussing, smut (fingering, protected sex, etc.) (18+!! marked with ***)

Request: smut and hanging around being cute?- requested by my roommate 

A/N: I still love these two and they deserve all the soft smut in the world. I think I’m done with 700 stuff (I mean unless anyone wants to send more stuff) other than something that was sent in that might have taken on a life of its own. Keep tuned. Any feedback is super appreciated but especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

what’s going on send me stuff!

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Mini i, Masterlist

(ignore joey but that’s how ben looks at you, gif by @mrbenhardys​)

💖💖💖

A month and a half after Lucy and Rami’s wedding, you and Ben had developed a good routine that started with going out on Saturday nights, whether it was to dinner, to a bar, over to Lucy and Rami’s, or whatever plans you could scare up. Then you would go to his or yours, it alternated every weekend, have hot sex and crash for the night. The next day you would laze around, having a relaxed brunch of pancakes or waffles, eating them as they came off the griddle. You two might help each other do whatever chores you needed to do, if you had the motivation. If not, it’d just be a nice day to hang out and probably have some lazy sex in the afternoon.

This Sunday was pretty much the same and the two of you were laying in bed at your apartment about an hour after waking up. The night before was another of Lucy and Rami’s game nights, and since you were staying at your place, you drove. It was the last one before Joe had to go back to the states (though he still wasn’t leaving for another week). Since you were driving, you told Ben to live it up and he really listened, getting too drunk to do anything but be put straight to bed once you got to your place.

So today, Ben was extremely hung over. Lucky for him, and you, he wasn’t the type to throw up, but he did have a raging headache and achy body. So when the two of you had gotten up, you had drawn the blinds and closed the curtains to block out the bright sunlight. And you had gotten him a glass of water and aspirin to help the headache.

Then he had looked at you with puppy dog eyes and jutted out those lips of his in a pout and asked, “Can you give me a massage?”

You rolled your eyes but acquiesced, pushing him onto his stomach. Then you straddled his lower back and started with his arms. From his biceps down to his forearms to his hands, you got every inch while Ben hummed his approval. Next you moved to his shoulders and neck, working out the tension and Ben groaned when you worked out a knot with your elbow.

“You know, you should get regular massages with all the working out you do. You don’t get knots from being hungover,” you pointed out.

“Mhmm,” was all that Ben managed.

After his upper back, you did a quick bit over his lower back because that wasn’t very sore or tense. Then turned around so you were facing the other way. You even did a few rubs over his ass, then gave it a quick swat which made Ben cry out, “Babe!” and you laughed.

“I refuse to do your feet for a hangover,” you told him and he chuckled, so instead you started with his calves.

Once they were done, you slowly moved up his thighs and you probably spent a little extra time there, but who could blame you? Lastly you started to work your way up his inner thighs and you heard Ben’s breath catch. You kept going and Ben moaned, more sexual than relaxed.

“You good, baby?” you asked with a light laugh.

“Fuck, you got me hard,” he lifted his head from his arms and said with a little whine in his voice that made you feel a type of way.

“Too bad you have too big of a headache to fuck right now,” you said wistfully.

“Says you,” he countered, turning to look at you, but still squinting his eyes due to the light.

“Well me is who you have to convince to get fucked,” you pointed out. Then you got up from on top of him and said, “I’m going to make some breakfast. You’re welcome to join if you can stand the light in the kitchen.”

Ben groaned and put his head back on his arms as you walked away.

_

A couple hours later with some food in your stomach (you had taken some to Ben who was still in your bedroom), you were lounging on the couch, reading a book with soft music playing over the speakers.

Ben came walking out of your bedroom, rubbing his eyes and groaning softly.

“Did you have a nice little nap, baby?” you asked with a smile, putting your book to the side.

He nodded sleepily and then asked, “Can I lay down with you?”

“Yeah, come on,” you told him, holding your arms out for him. Since you were on your back, he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your chest. He pressed a soft kiss to your boob through your shirt and you laughed, swatting his shoulder lightly.

“Read to me, babe,” Ben said softly.

Picking up your book again, you found your page and then started reading. Ben interrupted every so often with questions to catch up but for the most part was quiet, paying attention to your voice.

The two of you laid like that for a while until your voice got tired and you set down the book again. Then you settled in and started playing with Ben’s hair lazily and he pressed another kiss to your chest. This time you didn’t swat his shoulder and he placed another kiss.

***

Ben’s hands smoothed up under your shirt and he brushed the sides of your breasts with his thumbs. The light touch made you shiver and Ben kissed his way to your right nipple, mouthing it over your shirt. You hummed and tugged his hair lightly to get him to switch to the other side. Once he had you breathing quicker, he helped you lift your shirt over your head.

“Yours too, baby,” you said with a smile and you helped him take it off. You ran your hands down his torso, thumbing at his nipples and feeling his abs.

Ben pressed hot kisses up from your chest to your neck and then finally reached your mouth. His lips moving against yours, it wasn’t long before you were moaning and opening your mouth for his tongue.

His hand traveled down your body and landed over your clothed pussy. He rubbed at your clit through your clothes and while it was good, you wanted more.

Breaking the kiss, you whispered against his lips, “I can just take them off for you.”

Ben chuckled against your mouth and took your pants and underwear off for you. You opened your mouth to say something but Ben beat you to it.

“I know, mine too,” he said with a laugh and you nodded happily.

Everything off, Ben’s hand came back between your thighs and his middle finger found your clit. You sighed and brought him to kiss you again, running your hands through his hair and then scratching your hands down his back.

Ben’s finger moved down to your entrance, pushing inside slowly and you moaned into his mouth. You could tell that Ben was into it too, his hard dick pressing against the side of your thigh. Ben pushed another finger in with the first and you gasped when the heel of his hand started to rub against your clit.

One of your hands on Ben’s hip, you pulled him closer to you until his hips were practically flush with yours.

He broke the kiss, “Uh, you’re kinda trapping my hand, babe.”

“Then move it-- out of the way-- I’m trying to get-- to something else,” you mumbled in between short kisses.

Ben grinned and moved his hand, pressing a searing kiss to your lips before jumping up from the couch.

“Ow, that hurt my head. Just a second,” Ben said, searching for his pants wherever they landed. Then he pulled a condom out of the pocket of his sweatpants and you laughed incredulously.

“Are you serious? Did you put a condom in your pocket ahead of time?” you said, still laughing.

“Well you said that I had to convince you and I knew that’d be pretty easy,” Ben admitted, already putting the condom on.

You gave him a mostly fake shocked look, “Are you saying I’m easy?”

“I’m speaking from previous experience. Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he said with a smirk, gesturing to himself.

“Shut up and get over here,” you said with a roll of your eyes, reaching up for him again.

He climbed back on top of you, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to guide his cock inside of your pussy slowly and he dropped his head to your shoulder. Then he just stayed there for a moment.

“Aren’t you going to move?” you asked, tapping the back of his head.

“I’m just feeling for a minute,” he explained, still staying still but lifting his head.

“You convinced me of fucking, not cockwarming, speed it up,” you told him wryly, clenching around him purposefully to entice him.

“Always so impatient,” he commented, finally starting to thrust. Even though he was still going slower than fast, he was going deep, and you made a happy sound at the feeling. “‘cept when you’re the one teasing.”

“That’s an entirely-- entirely different situation,” you said, stuttering a little when his hand found its way back to your clit.

“You should be able to take what you dish out,” was Ben’s rebuttal, but with how deep he was fucking you and the mix of frictions of his cock in your pussy and his fingers on your clit, your words escaped you.

All you could do was shush him before pulling him into another kiss. At least that didn’t need brainpower because your mouths always naturally worked together. But the slow pace and amazing feeling was making you itchy for more, like your fingertips were burning with need. So you kissed down his jaw to his neck, using your teeth to nip at all of the spots with faded hickeys on Ben’s neck. He would probably complain again that you kept giving him hickeys in the same spots, never letting them completely fade, but they looked so good there that you did it anyway.

When you nipped at his pulse point, Ben moaned and his hips snapped against yours and you gasped.

“Yes, Ben, do that-- do that again, again,” you said breathlessly.

To your relief, he did, and you continued your work on his neck. One particularly hard thrust had your pussy clenching around him and Ben whined, “aah fuck-- fuck, babe, you feel good, so good.”

“You too, so good, baby,” you breathed into his neck. “I’m gonna come, just keep going and come too, wanna feel it.”

Ben nodded frantically, keeping his hips thrusting into you even a little harder, and his fingers moved faster on your clit. A few more seconds and you were coming, your mouth pressed against Ben’s neck to stifle your moans as you felt the pleasure radiate from your pussy and clit out to burn along your back, neck, all the way out to your fingertips.

You came down and Ben was still going, still chasing his release like you told him to. Wanting to help him along, you wrapped your legs around his waist and just that little change in angle had him coming in two more thrusts. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside of you, his pitchy moans next to your ear, and your aftershocks gave you a heady feeling that you now associated with sex with Ben. Knowing that you were able to make each other feel so good was a pleasure of its own and always kept you hungry for more.

Once Ben’s breathing had slowed a little, you leaned up and brought your lips to his in a soft and sweet kiss. After a couple minutes of lazily making out, you pulled away, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Alright, we gotta get up, baby. Still need to do meal prep for this week,” you reminded him and he groaned.

“Let’s just stay here a little while longer,” Ben tried, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’ll give you five more minutes,” you said.

“Fine, but you have to give me some of the food to take home,” lifting his head to look at you.

You smiled and kissed his cheek, “Of course.”

💖💖💖

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[thebluelemontree]

:( You forgot my question about mercy chapter </3

I haven't. It's still in my drafts, and its a long, long answer that I haven't finalized. I am working on it, and I'm sorry because I thought I'd have it posted days ago.  

I have so much love for this fandom and the people that send me questions. I genuinely feel bad because I can plan to set aside time to work on them, I have a goal to get them done by a certain time, but there are things that can happen that prevent that. 

Sometimes I have to stay later at work than I planned. By the time I get home, make dinner, and talk to Mr. Bluelemons, it can be anywhere between 9pm and midnight. I don't have the brainpower for anything at that point, so I have to try to work on things a little at a time in the morning before leaving again.

Some questions are easier to answer than others. Many times I am going back and forth between tabs looking up quotes to link to as my citations because I'm trying not to make any mistakes. Then on those really juicy questions like yours, I'm spending a lot of time thinking about what stuff means to the character, to the story, to the themes. I read passages over and over to check for important details that I might have missed. I cross-reference to similarities I've seen in other POV chapters just to see what I can glean there. Sometimes in my process, I realize I've gone down a tangent beyond the scope of the question, and I need to backtrack the fuck out of there by a few hundred words. (Oops.) Maybe other asoiaf blogs can rattle these things off pretty quickly, but I've always been slow at writing anything. The one I answered today I consider relatively easy, but it still took all morning and some of the afternoon. There are times I'm in so deep on a single question for so long, my brain just fucks off and won't let me focus anymore, even if it's in the time I set aside to answer it. Tackling a different or easier question that just came in might be a needed diversion. Or sometimes I need to go down a youtube rabbit hole for a while.  Or actually spend some time with Mr. Bluelemons, who is overall pretty darn tolerant of my special interest.

I'm not a meta spewing machine. This isn't my job. ASOIAF and Sansan are my favorite-est things in the whole world. I LOVE to talk you a Sandor and Sansa thing. I'm super stoked to get questions. It is fun for me, but I put a lot of painstaking work into those answers because I want to give the best answer I can. I have a pile of unfinished answers to good questions sitting in my drafts because shit happened, and too much time passed. I try not to let that happen anymore because it just makes me feel bad to look at that pile. 

Anyhoo, it's all good. I've got a lot done on your question. I've had to spend some time with Tyrion, which I haven't done a lot of before, but I think it's relevant to your question and the whole Mercy chapter. It's actually made me want to branch out and study his chapters more closely. I just need to tie the whole thing up with a conclusion, which I am currently working on. So that's where I'm at right now with it. I'm sorry I said it would be posted days ago, and I couldn't make that happen, so I won't make promises of when it will be posted now. It will be just as soon as I can. 

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

A Helping Hand - Part 1/2

Rhett was in pain. There was nothing unusual about that; he was used to pain. A sad statement to make, but a true one. With his back problems, psoriasis, and honestly, the things he did for a living, it had made him awfully familiar with all types of pain. But this… this was something new.  

He was laying on his side in the parking lot of their studio and gasping for air. Link had just stopped laughing – after realizing that his stupid prank had caused Rhett to hurt himself – and was running towards him with a horrified look on his face. The few crew members still present after the shoot were in a frenzy; running to and fro and talking loudly on top of each other trying to figure out whether an ambulance was needed.

They hadn’t even been filming anymore. Due to some stupid whim, Rhett had stayed on the set after wrap-up and had been trying to do tricks with the skateboard they’d been using for a game on a makeshift ramp the crew had built on their parking lot. For some reason unfathomable even to him, Link had thought it would be hilarious to see what Rhett would do if he yelled “Catch!” and threw a mic pack at him. Since Rhett didn’t know the pack was already broken, he scrambled to catch it ending up on the ground with enough pain to make him feel like throwing up. 

---

“Next time, please save yourself rather than a piece of equipment, okay? We have a lot of electronics but only one Rhett,” Stevie muttered with a strained voice when they sat in Rhett’s hospital room waiting for the doctor. Link was slouched in a chair, staring out the window, face pale and expressionless. He’d barely spoken after they’d gotten in the ambulance.  

Two broken wrists and a broken ankle was the diagnosis.

When the doctor delivered the bad news, Link buried his face into his hands and his shoulders started to tremble. Rhett tried to lift his hand to comfort him and realized too late he probably shouldn’t be doing that. His pained whimper made Link shudder almost violently and gasp for air.  

With three limbs in casts for the next six weeks, Rhett was slightly worried about how he was going to manage alone in his house. He relayed his concern to Link and Stevie as they walked – or in Rhett’s case, hobbled – out of the hospital later that night.

“Don’t be silly. You won’t be alone. You’re coming to stay at my place,” Link said as if it had already been decided.

“I know you feel bad, but you don’t have to do that,” Rhett said with a dopey smile. The painkillers were effective in both making his pain go away and making his head feel pleasantly fuzzy.  “I’ll manage.”

Link scoffed, and soon enough Rhett found himself at Link’s place surrounded by a mountain of pillows, blankets, and treats.

---

For the next few weeks, Link seemed to channel his guilt into making Rhett’s life as easy as possible. Rhett had never been pampered like this. His every whim was fulfilled with almost inhuman patience from a person that was usually quite quick to get riled up over things Rhett would consider minor at best. 

“You good? Need anything else tonight?” Link asked setting a fresh water bottle on Rhett’s bedside table. 

This had been part of their routine since Rhett had been released. Before bedtime, Link helped him shower, which had at first been a mortifying experience for both of them but had soon turned nearly mundane. After that, he helped Rhett into bed and brought him a bottle of water and, without fail, asked if he needed anything else.

On the third night, to release the weird tension that had settled between them, Rhett had asked him if he wanted to tuck him in. Link had turned and done it, pulling the covers over Rhett and fluffing his pillow before giving him a peck on the forehead. The following laughter tore through the tension and after that, the whole arrangement felt more relaxed.  

Until now.

Rhett sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and shook his head. He’d made the decision a few days ago, but every night since then he’d backed down.

I can’t ask him that, right? It’s too much. It’s too weird.

“Okay. Holler at me if you need anything. Good night,” Link said and was almost out the door when Rhett finally got his mouth open.

“Link, I…” Rhett started. Link turned and looked at him expectantly.

“Yeah, what do you need, buddy?”

“I – Dang it. This is… I can’t…,” Rhett stammered. Link smiled at him.

“Just tell me. It can’t get any more awkward than last night,” he said with a small chuckle. Rhett huffed out a laugh trying to forget a particularly embarrassing incident involving the bathtub and a loofah.

“Oh, I think it can…” he said. Link’s eyebrow rose and he stepped back next to the bed.

“Well, spit it out then.”

“I – I know this is a lot. I mean… you’ve been so good to me. Too good, honestly. I know you feel bad about what happened, but the way you’ve treated me... Shit, Link, I think you might have trouble evicting me when I get these things off,” Rhett said waving his arms showcasing the casts.

“I’ve only done what you would’ve done for me if the roles were reversed,” Link said blushing faintly.

Rhett took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he was about to say.

“Yeah. And I can’t say for sure that I would do what I’m about to ask of you… You can say no! Obviously. I mean… It’s a lot. And it’s…” Rhett was losing steam again. His stomach was churning.

This is a bad idea. Oh God… No! Say it! Just ask. The worst he can do is say ‘no’.

Link sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’re either about to ask for my kidney or ask me to get you off,” he said laughing and slapped Rhett’s thigh through the covers. Rhett’s gaze whipped to him and he was sure his desperation was showing on his features.

“You’re about to be real sorry you said that,” he murmured, face turning bright pink.

“Oh... Oh, no, Rhett, please say you’re asking for my kidney,” Link said, voice suddenly a bit shaky. His hand moved away from Rhett’s leg and he stared at him, bug-eyed.

“I’m not asking for a kidney,” Rhett whispered and pulled a pillow out of the pile Link had forced upon him and hid beneath it. His face was giving off so much heat, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the pillow caught on fire.

“Shit.” Link sounded equally horrified and resigned.

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry I asked. I can’t do it myself. I’ve tried. I promise I’ve really tried, but I just can’t make it work, my hands hurt too much... And it’s been so long. I’m dying here, man. But I get it. I totally get it. It’s too much. I shouldn’t have asked,” Rhett mumbled against the pillow. He wanted to burrow into the bed and disappear. He wanted to take it all back. 

Link was silent.

Then, Rhett felt Link’s weight shifting off the bed and heard his footsteps receding. Rhett peeked from behind the pillow to find the room empty.

Shit. I didn’t think he’d get mad…

Rhett was about to cry out more apologies, claim that it was all a bad joke when Link returned. He was holding something, and he sat back down on the edge of the bed. Rhett looked at him, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Okay. You’re not allowed to look at me. That’s too weird. Close your eyes,” Link said quietly as he popped open the cap of a tube that Rhett now realized was lube. His stomach clenched and his heart was suddenly pounding against his ribcage.

“Are you serious?” he whispered, voice small and hopeful.

“Yeah. It’s just… I’m helping you out. Don’t think of it as any different than me buttering your toast or buttoning your shirt or whatever. I’m giving you a helping hand, okay?”

“Okay,” Rhett said, nodding his head a little too excitedly as Link pulled away the covers and yanked on the strings of Rhett’s pajama pants to open the knot. Rhett was getting hard already. A mere promise of action was getting him all kinds of excited even though said action would be his best friend giving him the world’s most awkward handjob.

Link’s hand hovered over Rhett’s boxers.

“You… um… You want something specific?” Link asked with a hard swallow. 

“Oh, no! I – whatever you’d do for yourself I guess... Honestly, I’m so keyed up you could probably just blow on it and I’d come,” Rhett said laughing almost hysterically.

Link paused and turned to look at him with wide eyes.

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“What do you…? Oh! Oh, shit! I didn’t…! Oh, God. I didn’t mean that.”

“And you thought this couldn’t get any more awkward,” Link muttered and threw a pillow back on Rhett’s face. “Stay there and stay quiet.”

“Okay,” Rhett whispered, the burn of his face soothed by the cool fabric pressed against his face. 

With a bit of maneuvering, his underwear was pulled down, and without a pause, a slick hand wrapped around his hardening cock. Rhett was glad that Link wasn’t hesitating; the quicker he started, the quicker this would be over and they could maybe return to some kind of normalcy.  

Link’s grip was firm and sure. Rhett’s eyebrows threaded together and his mouth opened to taste the cotton. He couldn’t help himself; his hips rose repeatedly to rut into the deliciously tight and slippery fist. He swallowed down a relieved moan; he’d promised to be silent. The hand started to move with quick strokes.

Rhett sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and bit on it to quell the moans rising from his throat. Even if he hadn’t been in dire need of release, this would have felt heavenly. Link was…

Fuck. It’s Link! Like for real... Link’s hand is on my cock. And it feels so fucking good. 

A shiver ran down Rhett’s spine and he tried to think of something else. He tried to get one of his go-to fantasies going, but it wasn’t happening. The physical sensation was taking up all of his brainpower. 

So, for a while, Rhett was able to concentrate on that; on Link’s soft and slick palm caressing his length. 

But then he started thinking about the man attached to the hand giving him pleasure. Rhett knew what Link looked like when he was concentrating. The image of Link with his lips slightly parted, tongue poking out between them, eyes squinted slightly, brows furrowed slipped into Rhett’s mind and he bucked again as the sweet kind of ache filled his stomach.

The whole situation was fucked up, and if Link knew that Rhett was thinking about him and that it was actually making Rhett harder... Surely, he would feel uncomfortable. Rhett tried to do the right thing – tried to banish the image of Link from his mind.

“Rhett,” Link suddenly whispered and his hand slowed down a bit. Rhett’s heart jumped into his throat. For a second, he was certain Link knew what was going on in his mind. But he couldn’t. It was simply not possible. Right?

“Yeah?” Rhett asked carefully, voice muffled by the pillow.

“I know I asked for you to stay quiet, but…”

Relief flooded Rhett. Of course, he doesn’t know. I’m being ridiculous. The realization made Rhett stupidly bold.

“You want me to moan for you, baby?” Rhett asked with a cackle and groaned immediately as a hand slapped him hard on the belly. 

“Stop it!” Link snapped but Rhett could hear the laughter in his voice. 

Link sighed. “I need some feedback. I don’t know if this is doing anything for you. So… Oh God, I can’t believe I’m saying this…” Link groaned, took a deep breath and continued. ”Make whatever noises you feel appropriate. Tell me what feels good.”

Rhett moved the pillow and peeked at Link. Link was bright red and was worrying his lip between his teeth. His eyes shifted from Rhett’s face to his cock and then quickly back to Rhett’s face. His blush seemed to deepen.

“Are you sure?” Rhett asked.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I – It feels real good. What you were doing, I mean. More than good.”

“Oh, okay. Good,” Link said letting out a small breath, and a smile crept on his face.

Rhett closed his eyes again. 

Link’s hand moved on him.

With every stroke, Rhett’s mind went fuzzier and fuzzier. He was no longer hidden behind the pillow. His breaths came out mingled with low moans and gasps. Link was good at this. Somehow he was able to decipher from the little sounds what Rhett wanted and change his movements accordingly. 

Link tweaked his technique with such expertise that Rhett couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever done this with someone else. The thought immediately made his chest tighten and ache; a pang of jealousy crushing his heart. The image of Link with another man swam into his mind. 

Link on his knees in front of a faceless stranger, mouth eagerly open as the stranger’s cock plunged into his throat. Link’s eyes rolling back and his hands grabbing the man’s hips for balance. His moan starting deep in his chest and rolling out as the cock slipped out of his mouth leaving a trail of spit and pre-cum on his chin…

Rhett burned with arousal and anger. He couldn’t get rid of the fantasy. It refused to leave his mind and eventually Rhett had no other choice but to let it live there.

It didn’t take long for his chest to start heaving and his moans to grow into rough groans and mumbles.

“Yeah… Keep going. Oh, Go– Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just like that. Almost… Fuck-hnggggg!”

Rhett’s back arched into a tight curve and his curses turned into incoherent whimpers as Link expertly pumped him dry. Rhett’s head was swimming with the release and the following tingling warmth. His body relaxed slowly and he sunk back into the mattress with a small sigh.

“Was that…?” Link asked quietly. Rhett nodded slowly but emphatically. He didn’t dare to open his eyes. As the lingering afterglow started to drain out of him, it was replaced with the burn of humiliation.

He’d actually orgasmed – in front of Link. He’d come by Link’s hand. And worst of all, he’d thought of Link as he came.

“Here. You can get cleaned up,” Link mumbled.

A stack of tissues was pushed into Rhett’s palm and the mattress shifted. In a fit of modesty, Rhett drew the sheet over his bare crotch. As if it mattered at this point. 

Link’s voice sounded from the door. “We’re… We’re just not gonna talk about this. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rhett confirmed.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

The light went out and Link closed the door behind him. Rhett was left in the darkness, his needs finally, blessedly sated. 

But after cleaning himself up and settling back on the bed, Rhett realized that he didn’t feel satisfied after all. 

Rhett felt lonely  – and confused.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

When All is Said and Done

So...this is not the Irondad story I promised you. This is my 4.5th Tony vs. Migraine fic, this time featuring Bruce as caretaker. My only excuse is that plotting the other fic is making my brain cells tired and I needed some wwp (whump without plot) and Science Bros fluff to compensate.

Hope you enjoy it nevertheless.

Major thanks to @whumphoarder and @twentyghosts for beta reading ❤

___________________

“How bad is it?” Bruce asks the moment the front door shuts behind the last of their guests.

“Huh?” Tony is leaning casually against the wall, trying not to squint too hard against the bright entry lights. He lightly massages the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

“The headache you think you’ve been hiding so well from everyone tonight. How bad is it?”

Tony lets his hand drop down in surprise. “It’s nothing. I’m just peachy, worrywart.”

Bruce snorts. Then he reaches across the entryway and dials the light down a few notches. Tony inwardly sighs from relief. 

“Let’s go to bed early, yeah?” Bruce suggests softly. “I know you’re just peachy, but I for one am tired. Clint’s wilderness survival stories almost put me to sleep on the sofa. I’m gonna clean up the kitchen and then turn in. ”

Tony has a bunch of bots and probably the highest paid cleaning staff in the whole of New York to take care of the mess left behind by the ever-hungry Avengers. But he knows Bruce is uncomfortable with anyone working for him, so he doesn’t protest, just follows the other man into the kitchen and tries his best to help with putting away the leftovers. 

However, the aura obscuring his left field of vision and the slightly blurred quality of the world don’t really make things easier. When he drops a knife onto the ground next to the drawer for the second time in a row and barely misses his own toe, Bruce finally intervenes. “Okay, that’s it. Bed, now.”

“I’m good. Stop mother-henning me,” Tony bites back a groan when he bends down to pick up the cutlery and the pressure in his head compounds. He has to stabilise himself against the cupboard and take a deep breath before he can get upright again.

“Tony.” 

That’s the tone that gets him, always. The one that tells him Bruce can see right through his facade and openly wonders why Tony is even still making an effort to keep it up. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he concedes. “But don’t come at me later that I’m not doing my fair share of housework.”

Bruce shuts him up with a warm look. “As if I would ever.” 

Tony lets himself be led into the bedroom and groans when he sinks down into the mattress. He feels actually dizzy now, which only increases the nausea building in his stomach. Bruce helps him change from jeans into sweatpants and removes his dress shirt, then gently pushes him into a horizontal position. 

Lying down doesn’t really do anything for the pain in Tony’s head, but at least he can bury his face in one of the pillows and shut out whatever light is left in the room.

Bruce goes back to finish the cleaning and then disappears into the bathroom for a while before joining Tony in bed. He starts circling his fingers through Tony’s hair, lightly massaging his scalp. Tony remembers how weirdly intimate this felt the first time he did it, when he told Bruce that painkillers don’t work for his migraines and the other man offered to try out a different method. Now it’s become a familiar routine, a thing they’ve done a hundred times over the years.

Tony tries to switch off his brain and concentrate on just lying still and relaxing under Bruce’s touch, but he’s kind of terrible at it. It’s hard, so hard, because even now there’s a million ideas buzzing in his head, a never-ending list of projects and potentially world-improving programmes, intermingled with upgrades for Dum-E and Veronica and his armour and inspirations for what to get Bruce for their anniversary. 

The longer Tony is lying down, the more unsettled he gets. He’s not actually that sick; after all, he’s worked through so much more than a stupid migraine. Annoyance at himself bubbles up in his chest, for being unproductive, for wasting time in bed like this. 

Bruce seems to catch on to this. He turns over and rubs his fingers along the line of Tony’s forehead. “What’s up? I can feel you thinking. It’s like an electric hum.”

“Don’t want to be useless,” Tony scoffs. “I hate being useless.” 

“Tony, you’re never useless to me.”

“Hmpff.”

“Okay, fine. Without your headache we would still be sitting on the porch with the others and I would be pretending to have fun playing stupid card games while secretly just wanting to be alone with my books. So, personally, I am pretty happy about the timing of your migraine.”

“Not convincing,” Tony grumbles, but he has to smile. Then his sluggish brain catches on to the implications. “Wait, you’re saying that’s why everyone left early? So Steve didn’t actually have to repair his washing machine?” 

“I doubt he even knows how to do that,” Bruce admits with a smile.

“And Natasha’s date -”

“Shh,” Bruce shushes him with a finger to his lips. 

“Idiots, all of you,” Tony mumbles, but there’s a sugary warm feeling surging in his chest that makes the insult sound almost endearing.

He drifts a bit after that, the thoughts not gone, but muted. His head is throbbing in time with every heartbeat, like his brain is too big for his skull and trying to come out. He’s far from comfortable, but his situation could definitely be worse than lying in bed and feeling Buce’s big spoon body heat behind him. 

Bruce’s breaths even out after a while and it’s almost peaceful, but then Tony’s stomach decides that digestion is too much to handle for it right now and attempts to creep up his throat. He tries for deep and even breaths, but soon enough every one of them starts to feel like it might bring something else with it. 

“Aw, shit,” he murmurs when he can taste the remnants of pizza at the back of his throat, then pushes himself up and tumbles out of bed. The headrush that hits has him almost stagger into the wall. 

He makes it to the toilet and clumsily lifts the seat up in the dark before coughing miserably into the bowl, but nothing comes up. His throat is tight with nausea and he gags again, and retches drily. It’s still unproductive, but this doesn’t mean it’s not hurting like a bitch.

Tony can’t stop a quiet whimper from escaping his mouth. Fucking pathetic. He gags again emptily and then presses his forehead against the cool toilet seat, hoping someone will come and simply knock him out. 

He absentmindedly and quite self-pityingly wonders what he did to the universe to deserve this, then scolds himself for the thought. Once, around four in the morning after a long night in the workshop, a very sleepy Bruce had told him that growing up with an abusive parent made you feel like you’d eventually have to pay for every good thing that happened to you, that happiness comes with a price tag, until one day you just start trying not to feel too happy at all for fear of punishment. 

Tony, who firmly believes that every problem can be solved if one is just clever enough, was horrified at the idea. Since then, he’s tried his best to convince Bruce that he does, in fact, deserve unconditional love and happiness, that pain is something that happens despite, not because of, feeling good, and has showered him with as much affection as humanly possible. 

Thinking that he deserves this migraine is stupid, Tony knows that. Although it might almost make him feel better if he knew that there was a reason why his brain is currently on the verge of blowing up.

“Oh, Tony...” He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but suddenly Bruce is there, resting a hand on his back, all warmth and reassurance. How does a person do this -become such a source of calmness in all the daily stress and pain? “I’m sorry that you’re feeling so bad.”

“I’m okay,” Tony croaks, “‘s just a stupid migraine, I’ll be fine. I'm always fine.”

“Mm-hmm," Bruce says wryly. “I know that. But I also know it hurts now, even if it'll pass eventually."

“Just go back to sleep. I know you're tired.”

“This is such a nice bathroom, though,” Bruce says with a shrug. “Really, I've spent nights in much worse places.”

“Yeah, but- ugh.” Saliva floods Tony’s mouth and then he has to lean forward and heave the few bites of dinner he'd managed to get down earlier back into the toilet bowl, every retch making his head throb viciously. Bruce’s hand is calmly rubbing up and down his back and Tony tries to concentrate on that instead of the disgusting taste in his mouth and the smell that makes him want to throw up again.

Bruce has to help him back to bed eventually because his sense of balance is shot, as is his sense of distances and his sense of, well, anything. Tony hates this most about migraines, the slightly surreal feeling as if the world is constantly slipping from his grip and he’s missing all the important details. It’s even worse than the pain and nausea, because the lack of brainpower makes him feel vulnerable, and, worse, unable to protect those he cares about. Although Bruce arguably isn’t exactly in need of protection, at least not of the physical kind. 

“Brucie?” he mumbles through the pillow and the peppermint drop in his mouth that’s supposed to ease the nausea. 

“Hmm?”

“Do you think the Hulk likes it here?”

“Considering that you built him his own playground to smash, I think he’s pretty content to live in the tower.” Tony can practically hear the frown in Bruce’s tone, but his voice stays soft as he replies. “Why do you ask?”

“Just like this?” 

Bruce hums knowingly and pulls Tony closer towards him.

Once, when Tony was sick with the flu and the fever dreams were messing with him so badly that he couldn’t quite differentiate between reality and nightmares anymore, he thought about telling Bruce how growing up with parents that were never really there and then suddenly dead makes you feel like everyone you ever get close to is going to leave eventually, and that maybe letting people close is not worth the pain of losing them. 

In the end, he didn’t say anything. But miraculously, Bruce was still there when Tony’s fever finally broke, as he was after the next bout of flu, Tony’s heart surgery, and dozens of migraines in between. And now, years later, even Tony’s subconsciousness is finally almost convinced that if Tony gives in to sleep now, Bruce will still be there when he wakes up.

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All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33  @yepokokfine

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Migraine’ square.

[fracturedmotivationwriting]

the one where ace says 'i love you' and ravyn wants to get married...

Atticus wasn't expecting visitors. He'd already met with Torin and Excalibur to discuss their progress. He'd checked in on Alice earlier, leaving her locked safely in her room to work on a big project for one of her more advanced courses. He'd seen Ravyn during their shared courses, and they hadn't made plans to hang out. In fact, Atticus had explicitly told his best friend that he was planning on spending his evening alone to focus on some projects he had seriously been neglecting due to the recent events with Lev. 

So when he heard three distinct knocks at his door, his eyebrows furrowed. He knew instantly that it had to be Ravyn -- Atticus had made it a mission years ago to learn how every one of his friends and acquaintances knocked so he could distinguish them easily. 

"Ravyn, I told you I need to work on this report, you-" Atticus had started to nag as he opened the door before stopping himself short. 

There were tears in Ravyn's eyes. She wasn't crying. Ravyn had only ever cried once that Atticus knew about. But definite tears were blurring her usually shining eyes. Atticus felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight. Simultaneously, his blood began to boil as he internally questioned who could be responsible. The obvious answer loomed large in his head. 

"What did Zima do?" 

Ravyn shook her head, pushing past Atticus and making herself at home in his room immediately. Crawling onto the side of the bed reserved especially for her, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked at Atticus expectantly. 

"I didn't come here to discuss that. I need a distraction," she informed him stoically, her usual cool demeanor building back up. "I need my best friend. My joking, spouts off random literature quotes, doesn't take anything too seriously best friend." 

She looked up at Atticus with something akin to determination in her eyes.  She was not going to discuss whatever Lev had said or done this time, and nothing Atticus could say would change that. Atticus knew better than to even try. If she just needed him to distract her, to cheer her up and make her heart ache a little less, then that was what Atticus was going to do.

"Okay," Atticus nodded, his voice gentle as he climbed into bed next to her. "How bout the 'that's what she said' game?" 

Atticus was referring to a game he and Ravyn had played many times. It was something his mother taught him -- though she never gave it a name, that was from a drunken night he and Ravyn had played it. After his mother passed, Atticus had refused to do something so childish, despite Alice's pleading to play with her. He refused to do a lot of things after his mother died. But then he met Ravyn, and slowly the pain in his chest eased up. He had found himself enjoying the silly and childish things again. So he taught Ravyn how to play one night, and the two of them did it whenever Atticus was having one of 'those' nights and needed to be reminded that he could still be a kid. 

The rules were simple: put on any movie, mute it, and pick characters to do the voices for. You can say absolutely anything, but you cannot quote the actual movie. 

Ravyn merely nodded, allowing Atticus to pull up a random movie to start. She would have preferred going out and pulling pranks, maybe doing a little vandalism around the school, but she knew Atticus was trying to keep her from making a mistake. He was keeping her in the safety of his room so that if she did something stupid it wouldn't have too big of repercussions. But also so that if she changed her mind, if she needed to talk and cry, that she could do so in the comfort of his bed. She knew her best friend well enough to know his motivations. Last year, he may have supported her urge to go break things and cause mayhem. But the Atticus next to her today had matured. She supposed the recent events with Lev, Ravyn, and Alice had a lot to do with that. 

Allowing her mind to shut off a bit, she leaned into Atticus as the two of them focused their attention on the old black-and-white film Atticus had chosen, ridiculous dialogue forming between them as they tried to outdo each other in absurdity. 

////

Two movies and three bags of popcorn later, Atticus felt pretty good with how the evening had turned out. He had managed to get Ravyn to laugh. He could see her stress ease from her shoulders as the two went back and forth trying to get the other to break first. Her eyes were clear of tears, their usual sparkle of mischief back in them. Although, somewhere towards the end of the first film, Atticus had momentarily brought tears to her eyes -- but that had been from laughter, so Atticus' heart skipped a beat rather than clenched in anger. 

The credits were rolling on the second film. Ravyn's head was on Atticus' chest, his arms wrapped around her. They had migrated closer to each other as the movies continued, finding themselves cuddling like old times by the end. Atticus couldn't help but feel content. Despite everything going on -- Lev hurting his sister and Ravyn, Ravyn's engagement to the asshole, Atticus' father being a bigger jerk than usual -- Atticus felt at ease. With Ravyn safe in his arms, their abs hurting from laughing, and a plan in place to get back at Lev, how could he not feel at peace? Sure, he still had to figure out how to stop the marriage, but that just required a little extra brainpower. Right now, at this moment with Ravyn by his side, everything was as it should be. 

For the first time since his mother passed, Atticus felt completely and truly happy. 

Maybe it was this (false) sense of contentment that led to Atticus ruining the moment. Or maybe this was karma reminding him that he was a piece of garbage that didn't deserve happiness. 

Looking down at Ravyn curled into his side, a small smile gracing her face, Atticus' breath hitched. She was the love of his life. She was unhappily engaged to another man, but she was his best friend and he was head over heels in love with her. And he had to tell her before it was too late. 

She must have sensed that he was staring at her, or maybe she could hear his brain screaming, because suddenly her eyes were trained on his. Her eyebrows furrowing a bit at the intensity of his stare, she leaned away to get a better look at him. 

"What's wrong, Ace?" she whispered, confusion evident in her voice. 

"Ravyn, I-" Atticus stopped, shaking his head. Debating inside with whether or not to do this, and if so, how to say this. 

Ravyn could see him struggling with something in his head. She could tell by the way his brow creased, how frustration flashed in his eyes, how he gnawed on his lip. She'd seen Atticus worry over something many times, but this internal conflict seemed greater somehow. It made her a little worried. Afraid that he was going to deliver more bad news. She wasn't sure she could handle any more on top of everything else going on. 

But this was Atticus. Her best friend. If he needed to get something off his chest, she would be there for him. 

"Atticus, just tell me," she said as softly as she could, but it still came out a little harsh, like a demand. 

Atticus took a deep breath. Now or never. 

"Ravyn, I'm in love with you." 

The silence was deafening. Atticus felt like he couldn't breathe. He certainly couldn't look Ravyn in the eye anymore, not when she was giving him that blank stare. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, and he wasn't sure he wanted to see what response they chugged out. Maybe this was a terrible idea. 

And yet, after a beat, his mouth opened again and he couldn't stop the words from tumbling out. 

"I'm not talking about 'you're my best friend and  I love you.' I mean, I well and truly am in love with you. Like my heart stops when you smile at me or laugh at my jokes. It physically pains me to see you upset. I'm a disaster, but with you, I want to be better. I don't want to be with anybody else. I would do anything to keep you safe and make you happy. Even if it meant never being happy myself. I am in love with you, Ray."

More silence. Atticus can feel his heart pounding. He thinks he's going to puke if she doesn't say something soon. She's moved out of his hold, sitting up straight and staring at the wall now as she processes his words. He's not even sure she heard the rest of his speech. She hasn't moved, blinked, or made a noise since the beginning of his confession. Atticus vaguely wonders if he's broken her brain. 

"Atticus," she finally breaks the silence, her voice low. Atticus can't detect emotion in it. Can't tell if this is going to be a happy sentence or a heartbreaking one. He really might puke. 

"This... This is perfect." 

Confusion fills his brain as Ravyn turns her gaze to him. She looks... Thrilled? But something seems off. This isn't a 'you love me and I love you' kind of thrilled, Atticus realizes. This is something else entirely. 

"Ravyn?" 

"This is perfect. This is the solution we've been looking for!" Ravyn exclaims, a crazed-like smile coming to her face as she jumps from the bed and begins pacing the room. Atticus remains on the bed, feeling a bit like he's looked Medusa in the eyes. 

"I don't have to marry Lev!" 

He can feel his heart becoming stone. 

"I can marry you. My dad may bitch about it at first, but- this could work. Atticus, you're a lifesaver." 

He feels empty. Maybe he should feel heartbroken. Like he's been turned to stone and then crushed into a million pieces. His world shattered. Like he felt when his mom died. But instead, he feels hollowed out. Still standing, still together. Like all the walls he's built over the years have been reinforced and raised higher. But empty. 

Ravyn must see it in his face. How his expression went from adoration, to scared, to confused, and now blank. Stone cold. His eyes dulling in a second and then turning icy and sharp the next. The kind of expression that would have gotten him into the assassin program if not for all his problems. Her own expression goes from glee to worried. She takes a step towards him. 

Atticus stands, arms crossed. Closing himself off. 

"You should leave." 

"Atticus-"

"Just go, Ravyn." 

Ravyn almost doesn't recognize him. In an instant, he's changed completely from her best friend to a stranger. She doesn't quite understand. But she listens. Doesn't argue. Doesn't question or apologize. She leaves. 

[sign-from-god-complex]

the choice is ours and ours alone

Summary: "Was there a reason you felt it necessary to interrupt my sleep, Virgil, or was this simply a poorly timed social call?"

There was a pause and a deep breath before Virgil continued. "Oh, uh, yeah. Pat and I were wondering if you guys wanted to come out and have lunch with us? We have something important to tell you."

Or, Virgil and Patton have some news they need to share with their best friends and Logan worries about some things he truly shouldn’t be worried about. (With autistic Logan and nb Patton, because I can.)

Pairing: Logince with background moxiety.

Warnings: Food (drink?) mention and very brief mention of fighting.

Tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard  

AO3 Link

Logan was woken up by the sound of his phone going off next to him, it's constant vibration on the bedside table forcing him into consciousness. Part of him wanted to let it ring through, however, Logan was sure that if the buzzing went on any longer it would wake up Roman, and then he would have to deal with his whining all morning and that truly wasn't worth it.

Cursing the fact that he was a light sleeper, Logan fumbled around for a moment with his eyes still closed before grabbing a hold of his phone and answering the call.

"What?"

There was a chuckle from the other end of the line that Logan personally thought was far too smart for this early in the morning. He simply did not have the brainpower to figure out social rules right now.

"Good morning to you too, L," Virgil laughed, "You do know it's 11 am, right?"

Logan cringed inwardly. He had been going to finish grading some papers this morning, but he supposed he’d just have to work through the movie this evening instead. Roman would likely complain, but he'd make it up to him another time.

He was glad that the call was only Virgil though, as he didn't really have to worry about social niceties or accidentally saying the wrong thing. Virgil was his oldest and closest friend, he'd heard far worse from him than early-morning (or he supposed, late-morning) irritability.

His sleep-addled brain was slowly realising that this phone conversation was going to be longer than he'd hoped and so he quietly slipped out of bed to head to the kitchen. He was going to need some coffee.

"Well... we went to bed late last night," Logan mumbled, pulling the bedroom door shut behind him.

Logan let Virgil believe it whatever he wished about the nature of last night's activities—he was certainly not going to tell Virgil that their exhaustion was due to Mario Kart. When both halves of a couple were as competitive as the two of them were, a video game is never simply a video game, and Mario Kart was one of the worst.

They'd been tied for hours into the night, neither of them willing to concede to the other until finally Logan pulled ahead and claimed his rightful place as the best Mario Kart player of the household. Roman was going to be sulking about it for weeks.

Virgil laughed. "Oh yeah? Prince Pompous still sleeping then?"

Logan swept around the kitchen counter and pulled out the coffee, humming a confirmation.

"He's so cute when he's asleep," he quipped, "It's a guarantee I'm actually going to have some peace and quiet for a moment or two."

"Eh, you love him really," Virgil replied and Logan could hear his smirk through the phone.

"Mmm, so he keeps telling me."

He measured the coffee into the French press before filling it with water and waiting for it to brew.

The French press had been a housewarming present from Roman's friend Remy. Both Roman and Logan were very fussy about their coffees, a fact Remy knew well considering he’d been their regular barista for several years. Roman didn't use the French press very often—Logan was generally up far before his boyfriend, plus he preferred to get coffee from the place down the road when he had the time—but Logan made good use out of it.

"Was there a reason you felt it necessary to interrupt my sleep, Virgil, or was this simply a poorly timed social call?"

There was a pause and a deep breath before Virgil continued. "Oh, uh, yeah. Pat and I were wondering if you guys wanted to come out and have lunch with us? We have something important to tell you."

Logan frowned. Virgil generally avoided making vague statements, since he knew first-hand how much anxiety it can cause, so this was truly odd. He grabbed out another mug for Roman—it seemed he was going to have to get up sooner rather than later.

“That would be acceptable, Virgil. Same place as usual?”

Logan poured the coffee into the mugs—milk and sugar, along with whipped cream and caramel drizzle for Roman and cinnamon for himself—hearing Virgil breath a sigh of relief.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sounds good,” he said, “How long you gonna need to get Roman out of bed?”

Logan huffed a laugh. “We’ll be there in half an hour.”

“...So, 45 minutes?”

“Yes.”

———————————————

Logan pushed his way into the busy cafe, dragging Roman by the arm behind him.

His boyfriend had understandably not been very pleased with being woken up on their day off, but the coffee Logan had placed on the bedside table had enticed him into some degree of alertness. Once Logan had explained Virgil’s call and their scheduled lunch date he had ceased his grumbling—he never could be mad at those two, even if they had disrupted his lazy morning in.

Of course, Roman had managed to take even longer than expected to get ready. Even after 2 years of living with Roman Logan could not predict his behaviour to any useful degree. Some days Roman was ready in 20 minutes, some days it took hours; Logan almost felt as if he was doing it on purpose to frustrate him (and knowing Roman, that was not such an outlandish idea).

“Woah! Woah, specs,” Roman said, stumbling his way around one of the tables, “Slow down! What’s the rush?”

Logan paused and glanced towards the back of the room, catching a glimpse of Patton and Virgil seated at their regular table. Their backs were to the door and they looked deep in conversation, so they likely weren’t yet aware of Roman and Logan’s arrival.

“We are already late, Roman, thanks to your obsessive hair styling and 30 different outfit choices. I am merely trying to avoid us wasting any more time.”

Logan wasn’t going to admit just how worth it that extra time had been. Roman looked gorgeous, almost ethereal, in the dark red dress he had picked out—outfit number 14, if Logan remembered correctly. He had almost considered cancelling on Virgil so the two of them could stay in and make out for a few hours, however, the anxiety he felt over Virgil’s announcement had prevented him from doing so.

Roman rolled his eyes and pulled his hand out of Logan’s grip, forcing Logan to turn to look at him. “It’s Virgil and Patton. We’re late to see them all the time! What are you so worried about?”

Roman’s ability to see through Logan almost completely was often appreciated—it meant he usually didn’t have to admit to not feeling 100%, Roman could just tell—but it was often annoying too. Hiding surprise gifts or events was virtually impossible, and hiding emotions was even worse.

The two of them were both equally as likely to try and play off any bad feelings as tiredness, but they were also both highly aware of the other’s capacity for deception. For Roman, picking up on Logan’s lies seemed almost natural, and Logan wished it was the same for himself. He was aware that he wasn’t the most observant person; when it came to Roman’s mental health and wellbeing, however, he was certainly willing to make an effort.

Logan clung to the wall, trying to stay out of the way of any passing employees.

“...Virgil told me there was something the two of them wished to discuss with us. He sounded quite serious and he didn’t give any more information than that which is extremely out of character and-” Logan realised he was rambling and cut himself off with a sigh. “I suppose I am just concerned is all.”

Roman seemed to consider this for a moment, before pulling Logan close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Logan fought back the blush that rose up at the action as he wrapped his arms around Roman’s waist.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, love. There’s no need to jump to conclusions,” Roman mumbled into his hair.

Logan couldn’t tell whether Roman was being sincere or whether he was equally as worried now that he had been made aware of the circumstances for this meeting, but he accepted the comfort regardless, savouring the contact for a moment before pulling away. As much as he wished he could remain in Roman’s arms forever, they were still in public, and they still had places to be.

“Yes, of course.” He offered a small smile. “Now, let’s not leave our friends waiting any longer.”

The two of them made their way over to the table—side by side this time—before dropping into their usual seats across from Virgil and Patton. The conversation cut off mid-sentence as the two turned to greet them.

“Logan! Roman! Hi!” Patton’s eyes lit up almost instantly, making Logan relax even further.

Patton didn’t look worried, but then, it was often very difficult to tell—even Roman had admitted to having trouble puzzling out Patton’s emotions. The only one who really seemed to know was Virgil, so he supposed it was fortunate that the two of them were romantically involved.

Roman beamed across the table. “Greetings, Patton!”

“Salutations.”

Logan watched Roman shift in his seat slightly, turning his gaze to Virgil.

“And how are you faring this afternoon, my dark and stormy knight?” The question seemed innocent, but Logan knew it was Roman’s way of testing the waters on Logan’s behalf, helping them both judge the nature of this announcement.

Virgil gave Roman a curious look for a half-second before it faded into general amusement.

“‘m fine.” He took a sip of his coffee, Patton and Virgil clearly having already grabbed one whilst they were waiting on their friends’ arrival. “…How’re you?”

Roman raised his eyebrows. “Good! Good…”

There was a moment of silence across the table that Patton seemed entirely oblivious to, tracing lines in the condensation on the outside of their mug. Virgil narrowed his eyes at the two of them, confused as to the sudden tension.

“Logan informed me you had something important to tell us?” Roman said, clearly tense.

A look of understanding crossed Virgil’s face and he chuckled. “Lo, it isn’t anything bad! I thought it was my job to worry in this friend group.”

Logan exhaled, glad to have confirmation that all was well. The idea of any one of his close friends being in anything less than an ideal situation was upsetting, to say the least. He wasn’t particularly known for his emotional reactions, but he did truly value his friends, even if it didn’t always seem that way.

“My apologies,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “I am aware I should not have… jumped to conclusions.”

He bumped his shoulder into Roman’s subtly and felt Roman push back, confirming he had received the message—a thank you and an acknowledgement that he had indeed been correct tied into one.

“Nah, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have deviated from our norm without giving you an explanation—I know that throws you off. But really though, it’s not bad. It’s… um…” Virgil smiled down at the table for a moment before glancing over at Patton. “Pat, you wanna-”

Patton threw their hands out in front of them, barely missing their coffee mug with the gesture. “We’re engaged!”

Engaged.

Logan let that information sink in for a moment, aware that Roman was offering his lavish congratulations but finding himself unable to do the same.

It wasn’t as if he wasn’t happy for them. He was! It was excellent that Virgil had someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, especially after all the years of passionate self-hatred and despair Logan had been witness to.

Logan loved Virgil, and he loved Patton, and he was so pleased that they had found each other.

It was just…

“L, you good over there?”

Virgil’s question cut through Logan’s thoughts and he threw his head up to look at him. Virgil seemed anxious, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, and Logan immediately felt guilty for causing him distress. He didn’t want it to ever appear like he didn’t approve of their marriage, that wasn’t the case in the slightest.

“Yes, Virgil, I am fine. Congratulations, you two.” The smile he gave them was sincere, but he knew they could all tell it hid a lot behind it, even if they couldn’t tell exactly what.

Roman grabbed his hand under the table and squeezed it and Logan could feel that squeeze mirrored around his heart, causing him to swallow and try to keep his expression as neutral as possible. He squeezed back because that is what he was expected to do, but it was weak. After a beat, Roman let go and began mindlessly tracing patterns on the palm of Logan’s hand, trying to distract him from his thoughts.

Logan softened instantly at the way his boyfriend always seemed to know what to do to comfort him. Gods, Logan did love him. But… was that enough?

“So, tell us the story!” Roman exclaimed, aware he was losing Logan to his worries again, “Which one of you was it?”

The rest of the lunch went by without much incident, barring Patton finally knocking their drink over with their gestures, narrowly avoiding getting hot chocolate on their new skirt.

The two of them had explained that Virgil had been the one to propose. He’d supposedly had a whole day planned out with a picnic and taking Patton to a dog park and everything, but had instead ended up proposing in the early morning, Patton looking “so soft and beautiful” lying next to him that the words had just tumbled out. Logan had commented with a smirk that proposing accidentally was incredibly in character for him and he’d noticed Virgil relax a little bit, laughing at the friendly jab.

They hadn’t planned a date or anything for the wedding yet, considering they’d only been engaged for about a day, but Patton said they were leaning more towards the spring or summer so they could have it outside. They were also, of course, both expected to be the best men—Logan Virgil’s and Roman Patton’s—something they had gratefully accepted.

Roman seemed quite enamoured with the whole idea, theorising on wedding gifts and whether or not he would be permitted to wear a bridesmaid’s dress instead of a suit for the entire drive home. Logan had remained mostly silent, letting Roman’s excited rambling wash over him as he tried his best to remain calm—he didn’t want to get into an accident because he was distracted by other thoughts.

Once they arrived home Logan had planned to head upstairs—possibly try to get some marking done before tonight—but it seemed Roman didn’t agree with that idea.

He grabbed his boyfriend’s arm, spinning him around and pushing him onto the couch before throwing himself down beside him. “Alright, Lo, spill. What’s up?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Logan lied. He attempted to push himself up off the couch but almost immediately found himself with a lap full of Roman, making it virtually impossible.

It wasn’t very often that Logan lamented the fact that his boyfriend was so much taller and stronger than he was. Even if he’d never admit it out loud, he rather liked being tucked under Roman’s chin or into his chest—it made him feel safe. However, the one thing he did not appreciate about it was Roman’s ability to keep Logan in place so easily (well, he wouldn’t lie, there were benefits to that too, but now was not the time to be thinking about them).

Roman lowered his face to hover right in front of his, so close that Logan could feel the air of each breath. “Please talk to me, Lo.”

And Logan couldn’t deny him that.

Instead, though, of taking any time to think through the way he wanted to approach this, Logan simply blurted out the first thing that popped into his mind.

“I don’t want to marry you.”

Logan regretted the words almost as soon as they came out of his mouth. Clenching his jaw and breathing in slowly, he glanced up to look at his boyfriend. Roman was very still, his brow furrowed, confusion and hurt warring for precedence on his face and Logan internally cursed his poor impulse control.

“Okay…” Roman spoke slowly, waiting for him to continue.

Logan screwed his eyes shut for a moment in an attempt to get his bearings. He was finding it difficult to think with the way Roman’s body was pressed against him, so hot and close, causing his skin to prickle and his hands to tap against his chest.

Through his thoughts, he heard a quiet, “Am I closing you in too much? I can move now if that would make you more comfortable.”

At his nod, Roman pulled himself off of Logan and settled in next to him again, waiting patiently as he tried to find the words to articulate his thoughts.

“Patton and Virgil got together a few months before we did,” Logan began, “It will be their 3 year anniversary in a few weeks. In a few months, it will be our 3 year anniversary. We have both been in a relationship for approximately the same amount of time and they are getting married and I don’t think I’m ready for that yet but I do love you and I want to make you happy so if you want to-”

Roman pushed his lips to Logan’s, cutting off his anxious babbling. Gentle hands cupped Logan’s face and he pressed in even closer, craving the comfort and warmth his boyfriend was providing him. He didn’t realise he had begun to cry until Roman drew away, wiping away his tears with his thumb. He inhaled shakily.

“Oh, Logan, sweetheart. You do not have to do anything you aren’t ready for.” Roman gazed at Logan lovingly, tracing patterns on his skin again. “Quite honestly, I doubt I’m ready for marriage either. Each relationship is different and you shouldn’t judge our progress by anyone else but us, okay?”

Logan cast his gaze down to Roman’s hand against his, watching mesmerised by the repetitive motions. “If… you’re certain. I just want to ensure that you’re happy. I know that I can be-”

“You’re perfect,” Roman interrupted calmly, grabbing both of Logan’s hands in his and squeezing them tight for a moment before releasing them, “And I am happy, Lo. I promise.”

After only a moments hesitation, Logan shifted himself onto Roman’s lap, curling up and resting his head against Roman’s chest. The warmth didn’t seem quite as overwhelming now that his thoughts had settled slightly.

“Alright... I love you.”

Roman stroked Logan’s hair, a soft smile gracing his face.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

In 7 months, Roman and Logan would arrive at their best friends’ wedding, standing beside them as they proclaimed their love and committed themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. The wedding would be soft but comfortable, taking place in the garden of their house that Patton so carefully tended to. Roman and Logan would both make speeches that made both Virgil and Patton cry. They would go home happy.

In 9 months, on his day off, Logan would make a trip into town and return with a small box in his pocket, something he was finally sure of. It would sit in the bottom of his closet, hidden in an old suitcase, and every time Roman laughed or teased him or fought with him over something silly—them both immediately running back, blurting out apologies and kissing through tears—he would become a little bit more sure of his decision.

In 10 months, Logan would take Roman stargazing on the hill where they met—Logan looking for a quiet place to study outside of his dorm and Roman looking for a place to practise his lines. He would make a speech during which neither of them cried at all. He would tell Roman of all the ways he had changed his life, would tell him how he could only hope that Roman would give him the chance to continue to experience his joy and warmth for the rest of his life.

In 10 months, Roman would say yes.

In 10 months, Logan would call up their best friends and vaguely invite them out for lunch, telling them they had something important to tell them. Virgil would laugh at him once he’d revealed the surprise and accuse him of being petty. Logan wouldn’t deny it.

In just under a year and a half, Logan and Roman would be married. Roman would be wearing a wedding dress because he would insist and Logan wouldn’t be able to deny him, and when he would finally see Roman walking up the aisle he would be glad he hadn’t.

Yes, in just under a year and a half, Logan and Roman would be married.

But for now, they weren’t.

And that was okay.

[chouetteffraie]

About BSD S3

Alternative title: Kenna talks about stuff literally nobody asked her to <3

So now that s3 is over and I’ve had a few days to breathe, I think I wanna say a thing or two about the season overall. Now, I’m not a meta writer, I’m not a person who can go in over analyzing everything perfectly- quite simply, I don’t have the brainpower to do that for too long. So rather than this being an analysis of everything and an objective evaluation of the quality of the season, this is largely an emotional response where I just talk about my experience with it. I’m not a critic- I don’t think I have that in my blood. I watch to enjoy, then reflect on what I did and didn’t enjoy, taking snippets and twisting them into something that might become deep and meaningful occasionally if it suits my writing. There’s nothing wrong with being a critical analyzer! We need you all in the fandom for all these fabulous metas and such <3 I just don’t think I’m the right gal for the job.

“So, Kenna, what is it you have to say?” Well, in the simplest of terms,

I really liked season 3.

“...wow. Groundbreaking.”

Now, let me explain myself. There are problems with season 3, as there are with most seasons, but I feel, overall, there were enough things that I liked about season 3 to keep the season in my favor.

I think my biggest criticism would have to be with pacing. The pacing  in this season was so off for me and can be described as sporadic at best. From backstories to character introductions to character re-introductions, there was so much that went by in a blur and so much that seemed to go on forever. My biggest complaint probably has to do with (yup, you guessed it) the adaptation of Fifteen.

Let me explain.

First of all, I think the complaints that Bones used Soukoku as ship bait have a sturdy foundation, and I’m not here to dispute that. As a Dazatsu main myself, I’m not gonna complain about loving scenes with your favorite ship in them- I would absolutely die if next season (hopefully there is a next season!) we got a three-episode plot revolving around Dazai and Atsushi. However, I just don’t think it fit in nicely with the rest of the series.

After all, it’s kind of unfortunate that we got 3 episodes of Soukoku’s backstory, and yet our protagonist only got 1/3 of an episode.

Maybe Fifteen would’ve stood better as an OVA, or maybe if it could’ve been shaved down to two episodes. Maybe if BSD had been given three more episodes for genuine content, things would’ve been better. I don’t know how possible any of these things would’ve been, but they’re ideas. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed Fifteen overall. But I remember thinking that it seemed so out of place when I knew the chaotic arc that was coming. 

I’m not an avid manga reader, but I know enough to be able to say that the BSD manga has a lot of content, a lot of nuance, and a lot of personality. The manga is the source material and what got people so invested in the story. If there wasn’t an interest in the manga, would there even have been an anime adaptation? What I’m saying here is that staying true to the manga is a good rule of thumb, and while of course you won’t be able to translate everything into animation, it’s probably best to try and be as similar as possible with a story like BSD.

Manga readers ate up the story of BSD without being interrupted by Fifteen, because as far as I’m aware, Fifteen is fairly new? (Didn’t it come out around Dead Apple time? I’m not entirely sure, but it might’ve been.) And, unlike The Dark Era, the events of Fifteen didn’t have nearly as much of an impact on Dazai (that would later impact our protagonist- after all, how could he mentor Atsu if he never quit the mafia?). Fifteen was more Chuuya-centric in terms of future impact, which brings me to my next point.

Chuuya is a side character. I love him, honestly, and think he’s a great character, but he isn’t our main focus. This seems to be a problem that Bones has a lot: “forgetting” who their protagonist is. 

I can defend The Dark Era because of how it explains Dazai’s connection with the mafia and why he switched sides. Dazai is easier to get away with focusing on because he is a primary character, although not the protagonist, and probably has some of the most influence on our true protagonist out of all the characters we know. Chuuya....doesn’t. At least, not yet. His backstory, while interesting and fun to see, is inconsequential to where our protagonist is at right now in the story. In fact, I’m not even sure if Atsushi and Chuuya have interacted in the anime aside from that standoff in the hospital hallway- and even then, that was an illusion. While Fifteen gave us a glimpse to Dazai’s life in the mafia, it didn’t give us anything we didn’t already know other than how he met Chuuya, and how he met Chuuya didn’t impact his relationship much with him or explain why he hates him so much- they just kind of always did. (what would you call that? Anti-chemistry?) That means it also didn’t really impact the major decisions Dazai had to make to get to where he was when he found Atsushi- which is when he began to matter, because that’s when he started influencing the world of the protagonist who is supposed to drive our experience through the narrative.

Please note, this isn’t a hate on Soukoku, and if you like Fifteen, or thought it fit, or just liked it because it gave you such good SKK content, I’m happy for you! This is just a personal grudge I have with the series.

This is why Fifteen would’ve stood better as an OVA- it doesn’t have anything to do with the protagonist. A core purpose of the protagonist in any story is to make the narrative relevant. The events of a story are connected because they pertain to the protagonist. Let’s take the Hunger Games as an example. The events of the actual game don’t relate at all to the death of the Everdeen father, or the fact that Primrose Everdeen was selected, or the fact that a certain Everdeen was given a pin of a mockingjay. These are all important because they relate to our protagonist, Katniss. Her father dying made her have to step up inthe household and feel responsible for her mother and sister’s safety, which helped prompt her to volunteer as tribute. Her pin later became the symbol of a revolution, but only because it was hers. If our protagonist had been Peeta, Katniss’ backstory with her father and mother and sister wouldn’t matter to us because it wouldn’t be our protagonist’s concern.

So, why, then, did we get 3 episodes of Chuuya’s backstory and 10 minutes (not even) of Atsushi’s? Hell, we got more of Kyouka’s backstory than Atsushi’s, or at least a better buildup to it. We even got more content of Randou, a character they completely screwed up (and also didn’t really affect Atsushi). I know events are tied together and connected, but when trying to fit an arc like Cannibalism into 12 30-minute episodes, you’ve gotta decide what’s important and what’s not.

Bones, I feel, didn’t choose what was most important.

“Alright, Kenna, all you’ve done is complain. I thought you said you liked season 3?”

That’s the thing, though- I did.

I like the time they spent with Lucy and Kyouka’s hostile interactions. I liked the background they gave to certain characters (Gin, Kyouka, Atsu [even though we got so little], Katai [-ish]) plus we got more Fyodor content. Fitzgerald’s episode was really good, too! I’m a newly-fledged, softcore Fitzgerald stan. I think the last three episodes were pretty well put together, and I ADORED the final scene (no, not just for the Dazatsu content- although thank you for the food, Bones uwu).

Now, these are all little things, yeah, but I feel together they make up enough for Fifteen on my end. See, I’ve always thought BSD had pacing issues from season 1. It’s no news to me that they had trouble squeezing all the content in the episodes they were given, to be honest. If I separate Fifteen from the rest of the season, to me, it’s cardinal sin is pacing, and only pacing. The issues of Fifteen are plentiful, but it doesn’t seem fair to me (and for me, it’s more than ok if you disagree) to pile that all on to the rest of the episodes. Yeah, it was disappointing that we didn’t get as much Fyodor time, or Atsu backstory time, or whatever else we wanted. But to me, that’s okay. We still got the point of what’s going on- the city is in trouble, the worst is yet to come, and Atsushi and Akutagawa have a deal now.

Bungo Stray Dogs has always appealed to me because of its characters more than its story, I connected with the people, not the narrative. I still thoroughly enjoy the story, but I’m more interested in how the characters interact in general and how they operate as a team or in stressful situations. For that purpose, Bones provided. At least they did in my book, even if we didn’t get enough of who we wanted to see.

I have hope for next season, if there is one. I have hope that Bones will right their wrongs. I have hopes that they’ll fix their pacing a little bit. The manga has so much content to portray, though, that a certain pacing issue can be forgiven (like the ones I saw in s1 and s2.) And, because I love the characters, I’m willing to hold out for another potential season and see if they can fix it.

If you’re upset, you have every reason to be. But, though I have my complaints, I can’t say I’m too terribly disappointed. Maybe a little, but I still look forward to future content. I hope we get it soon, if at all.

(And, believe it or not, this is the shortened version of all my thoughts. Haha!)

[tsuraiwrites]

Fic: A Morning to Forget (3/3)

snowminxfrostycat asked: #20 "I need you to wake up because I can't do this without you."

With his paperwhite face marbled in black veins, the witcher looks mere inches from death. There’s too much blood on the ground, the acid fumes already making Regis dizzy and sick with fear.

And there’s Orianna, her skin peppered with silver shards and missing an arm.

Part 1, Part 2, for this ask meme

Their meal is fraught with tension, and as soon as Geralt swallows the last bite Regis is around the table, far closer than is socially acceptable. Marlene, just turning into the room to pick up their dishes, snorts at them and spins on her heel to go back into the kitchen. They both ignore her.

Regis’ eyes are so black, even this close Geralt can barely discern where iris ends and pupil begins. 

��Keep looking at me like that and we won’t make it to the bed.”

Regis chuckles, breaking out of his fixation. “It is just that you’re beautiful,” he murmurs. 

Geralt blinks, taken aback. Beautiful isn’t a word he’s ever heard applied to him before. When he was younger he might have bordered on it, if he’d been around the sort of people who’d refer to men as beautiful.

Now his body is a mass of scars and other marks of hard life – including the new patch where Orianna tried to rip out his throat – and the lingering effects of the Black Blood showing in the stark contrast of his ribs against the skin and in the hollow of his cheeks. Geralt is far too aware of these flaws, even hidden by the cotton undershirt.

He swallows, tilting his head until the vulnerable line of his throat lies flat against Regis’ chest and he can look directly up at the man. The look in his face then is no longer just heat, but something closer to warm, almost gentle. Regis places a soft hand on the back of his neck and all of Geralt pulses, feels too full, from his heart and eyes to his half-hard cock. 

The witcher closes his eyes and leans into it, trusting. His neck aches sharply, but after another of Regis' tinctures, it's not too painful to ignore in favor of the comfort inherent in this moment. 

“Take me to bed, Regis.”

-

Regis makes it to the bed first, naked and unashamed as he tugs Geralt by the hips to remove the last of his smallclothes. Geralt can’t get enough of the vampire’s hands on him and soon he bends, pressing kiss after heated kiss to Regis' welcoming mouth. He tastes more like their recent meal than anything else, but Geralt’s beyond giving a fuck about anything but the brush of his thin lips and tickle of facial hair. 

When he finally pulls back for air, the black of Regis’ eyes have bled into his irises like ink dropped in a pool, his chest heaving under Geralt's hand as the witcher leans part of his weight on him, and the jut of his arousal all too clear, flushed a dusky rose already. 

He shoves at Regis’ shoulders and the vampire lets him, smiling sharply as he lays back against the duvet.

Geralt takes him in; the light dust of hair over his chest and groin, his narrow hips, the darker skin around his cock. The sight quickly becomes too much to resist and he leans forward, pressing his face into Regis’ stomach with a deep inhale before he mouths at the skin, rasping the growth of his beard against softer hair. 

His lover makes a pleased noise, obviously sensitive as Geralt reaches up to skate his fingertips down over his chest, letting his callouses drag a trail straight to Regis’ cock.

He moves down while Regis is distracted by his hand, expression tipping into a gratified smile when a curse comes from over his head and fingers burrow into his hair as he licks a slow stripe from base to tip. He isn’t pulled away, so Geralt takes it as permission to take the warm weight into his mouth, working as deeply as he can go. He pulls back and tries again, a little deeper this time, and runs his free hand up the side of Regis’ thigh. Up and down, relishing the jerk of muscle under his fingers as he sucks, creating a pressure both sudden and intense. 

The sound Regis releases then is so low as to be more felt than heard, a deep rumble like Geralt hasn't encountered before. When he looks up, Regis sits propped on one elbow, staring at him with that same heat and softness from the dining room.

“Geralt, my dear,” he breathes, so quietly that the witcher can barely hear it. The fingers wound through his hair attempt to tug him up and toward Regis' face. “Come here, come here and kiss me.” 

It’s a plea, not a demand, not yet. 

But some teasing impulse keeps him where he is, unmoving but to stroke Regis' shaft where his lips can’t cover. The way Regis’ mouth drops open as he gasps sends a bolt of pleasure shooting through Geralt, pooling in his groin. Without really thinking about it, Geralt's hand drops from Regis’ thigh to gather the precome at the tip of his own dick and stroke himself once, hard.

If pressed later, Geralt wouldn’t be able to quite name the sequence of events that follow, just that it ends with Geralt flat on his back on the bed, wrists pinned above his head by only a fraction of Regis’ strength present in a single hand. 

The other hand presses gentle claws underneath his chin. From anyone else the gesture would be a threat, but here Geralt can only oblige, angling his mouth into a kiss. Regis’ fangs can be felt even through his lips and, feeling daring, Geralt presses his tongue into the vampire’s mouth and licks along one sharp tip. 

The warning rumble Regis gives rattles his head a little. Fingers tighten against his face, the sharpest tips slicing through his skin like butter. Geralt hisses but only presses into him, trying to elicit more reaction. 

Regis pulls back then, spitting a curse in a language that Geralt doesn’t know and doesn’t care to find out – his focus turns entirely to the weight of Regis’s bare ass and thighs now pressing down on his cock. When he pushes against the grip Regis has on his wrists the vampire lets him go, lets Geralt settle his hands against Regis’ thighs and skim along firm muscle. 

He looks debauched, perched on top of Geralt with those black eyes fixed on him, on the drops of blood at Geralt’s chin. When his expression starts to curl into something sour – almost fearful – Geralt uses his distraction to press down on the vampire’s thighs and rock up into him, slow and intent. Regis’ gaze immediately snaps back to his, bright and eerie. 

Then the vampire shifts up onto his knees, making Geralt hiss, slightly panicked that Regis has changed his mind, is going to leave–

Regis’ hand on him distracts him immediately, a gentle thumb spreading precome around and pressing into the slit, making Geralt realize how very close he is to orgasm already. He gasps when the vampire strokes him, fighting against the tension in his gut. He shouldn’t be so worked up so quickly, this isn’t normal for him – his stamina is a point of pride, damn it.

Regis picks up one of Geralt’s clenched hands, presses a kiss to the knuckles as he did earlier during that mind-boggling, world-upending love confession, and Geralt loses his trail of thought as he’s reminded of how much he wants. Wants this, wants him, wants everything this man will give him and more.

And Regis moves, hovering as he continues stroking with one hand until Geralt is lined up with a hole he can’t see from this angle. 

“Regis–” he starts, anxious, but the vampire ignores him; shifts with Geralt’s cock in one hand before sinking down onto it. The too-thin coat of precome is a blessing, creating friction rough enough to stop him from coming immediately. 

Any other man would be cringing with pain due to lack of preparation, but Regis’ eyes have gone half-lidded with bliss even as he refuses to break Geralt’s gaze. 

Fucking vampires, Geralt manages to think, before Regis lifts his hips and sinks down again, this time all the way down to the base. It’s too much; the heat and pressure is so damn good and Regis drops Geralt’s hand, lets the witcher grasp at his hips again as he starts fucking himself on Geralt’s cock. 

He will deny until his dying day the whimper that escapes his throat. But then Regis grins at him, every sharp tooth on display, and does something that doubles that sweet, clenching heat all around him.

Geralt thrashes – moans – trying to speed their pace, trying to push his hips up, but Regis’ grip is implacable as he pins him down and rides him in a steady, far-too-slow rhythm guaranteed to drive Geralt out of his mind. He wants, needs more and needs it now. There's a pressure building in the base of his spine and behind his eyes that he knows will abate if Regis, the tease, would just let him.

Geralt seizes the back of both thighs as Regis rises and tries to pull him down hard. When that fails to work, he tries to buck again, to take pleasure in working himself to frenzy. But Regis pushes him down again, inevitable and heavy as a mill wheel grinding grain while the man pins him to the bed until Geralt can't so much as squirm.

"Oh, you fucking bastard," Geralt spits, but his curses are quickly smothered by Regis' smirking mouth and questing tongue against his teeth. He can feel Regis’ hardness rubbing against him every time he moves, and that finally gives Geralt the brainpower to reach out and grip him, hard. 

Surprisingly, Regis doesn’t bat him away. Instead he releases a long, low moan against Geralt’s lips and levers himself up. He plants both hands on Geralt’s shoulders to brace himself, finally freeing Geralt from the pin; slams down hard onto his hips, then up into Geralt’s hand at a frenetic pace. 

Geralt starts to pant trying to keep up, all his attention split between the jerking twist of his hand, his hips driving his cock to seek out just the right angle, his eyes fastened on the building ecstasy he can see in Regis’ face. Geralt wants to see him, wants to know that it was him that brought him to these heights. Wants to see Regis shatter in his hands.

That rumble through him again, rattling his teeth. Regis cries out, ragged and loud, claws pricking against Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt feels the cock in his hand pulse and looks down in time to see white spatter across his chest as Regis moans above him. He strokes him through it, hips slowing even as instinct tells him to speed, to take what he needs.

Regis lets himself fall forward, lips against his but not quite kissing. “Keep going, I want to see you,” he murmurs into Geralt’s mouth. Geralt keens, biting at Regis’ thin lips, but obeys. 

He thrusts up, Regis letting Geralt move him this time when he grabs his ass with both hands and yanks him down into a fast rhythm.

Regis’ weight on his chest has him gasping, closer to the edge with every small noise the vampire makes. His thrusts start to turn clumsy, his concentration shot. 

Then Regis turns his cheek, presses a firm, fangless kiss against the wound where Orianna bled him. The resulting spike of pain and pleasure is enough to send him careening over the edge, jerking and grinding their hips together as Geralt comes, muffling his shout into Regis’ neck.

For a moment there is no sound but their ragged breaths, Geralt’s pulse thundering in his ears. He wraps his arms over Regis’ waist and shoulders, holding him close and luxuriating in their mingled sweat and semen, the warmth of his softening cock still inside. Eventually he slips out, and the resulting dribble of warmth down his thigh is enough to make him chuckle. 

Geralt turns his head to press a rasping kiss just below Regis’ ear. 

“I love you, too.” He revels in the hitch of the vampire’s breath, how his whole body tenses in an attempt to hold Geralt closer, but Regis says nothing.

Soon, he’ll have to get the wash basin and get them both clean before they get too disgusting. 

Until then, Geralt just laughs again, holding on to Regis even tighter and feeling content.

[jupiterjunebug]

@actually-a-taco, here I am, eight THOUSAND (three days?) later, with a response. Which means I’m done with all the prompts I’ve got, so people should send me more.

It took Stern about forty-five minutes to realize he’d been dumped.

After that, it took Stern another forty-five minutes of staring at the no signal marker on his phone to realize that, seeing as his boyfriend had taken the car with him, he was stuck at the Kepler Pass Campground for the night.

Once those two realizations were out of the way, it was worryingly easy to decide the solution to those two problems was to finish off the drink he’d been nursing over during dinner and then open another one. And another one. And a few more after that.

Given that he had been just on the line of the ideal amount of tipsy before that, this left him slightly drunker than he’d intended to get. Actually, quite a bit drunker than he’d intended. Which was fine. It was fine, and he wouldn’t regret it while trying to check out tomorrow at all.

That was about the time he’d gone for a walk. Which was a bad idea, because it turned out he’d left behind his sense of direction somewhere between getting tipsy and getting drunk.

Stern held up the empty remains of his ill-advised drink, preparing to fling it at the wall of the anonymous tree he’d almost wandered into. Miraculously, his brain worked well enough to go if you do that you’ll feel bad about it the entire time you’re hungover tomorrow. So instead he set it down on a nearby picnic table, crumpled down to sit on top of it, and took a moment to feel sorry for himself.

“Hey, uh, you okay?”

Stern’s FBI combat responses kicked in, and he grabbed for the bottle. Unfortunately he was drunk, so he missed the bottle. Stern’s FBI combat responses didn’t kick in fast enough to stop him from wobbling to the side, overbalancing, and nearly breaking his nose as he crashed to the ground.

“Alright, that’s a no, then.”

“I’m fine,” Stern said, and ended up with a mouth full of pine needles for his troubles. He rolled onto his back and blinked up at the person he’d nearly physically assaulted.

He was glad he hadn’t, for a lot of reasons. Firstly, he was pretty sure he remembered a thing or two from FBI training about not throwing beer bottles at people. Second, the guy the voice belonged to was – if his estimation was accurate, which he wasn’t too sure about – at least half a foot taller than him and could probably break him in half.

The third reason was the completely involuntary, and very regrettable, fact that his first thought upon catching sight of the man’s face was he’s hot.

“You sure? It’s, uh. Ten. And you look like you’re at least midnight drunk.”

“I’m fine,” Stern repeated, spitting the pine needles out of his mouth. Yep. Done with camping. Well, at least it was dark. If he was lucky, this guy wouldn’t recognize him during the day. Which, given that he’d just been broken up with in the middle of nowhere with no car and no cell signal, was very unlikely.

“Do you need help?”

“I’m-“ Stern stopped, because if he said I’m fine again, that would pretty much destroy any chance of this guy believing he was fine. “No. I don’t. I’m just having a…” He stopped again, because he was nowhere near drunk enough to get actually sick, but definitely drunk enough for his insides to inform him he’d made a mistake.

“Bad night?”

“Mmm,” Stern groaned. Nice job, Stern. Making a great first impression, Stern. Really not letting this whole thing get to you, Stern.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Stern forced himself to sit up, which was a bad idea. Really, just about everything was a bad idea at this point. Now that he was vertical, he could get a better look at the hot stranger. Who was, in fact, still hot. And also just as tall as he’d estimated.

“I…no offense.” Stern knew he was speaking far too slowly to pass as properly sober, but it was speak too slowly or make no sense, and Stern hated it when people couldn’t understand him. “But I don’t really…do having emotional talks with strangers.”

“Well then,” hot stranger said, taking a step closer to Stern. “I’m Barclay.”

“What?”

“I’m introducing myself. You know, so that we’re not strangers?”

Stern blinked at him.

“I…people try and use that trick in real life? I thought that was…I thought that was a thing from TV.”

Barclay chuckled, running a hand through his hair. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Stern was pretty sure he had a crooked, slightly embarrassed smile on his face. Barclay shifted and, yes, there was the glint of teeth in the moonlight. Barclay had a nice smile, the stupid, drunk part of Stern’s brain decided. The not-drunk part of his brain informed him that he’d just been broken up with, and he should stop thinking about how handsome someone that was most definitely still a stranger looked.

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Stern snorted. If he were sober, he’d come up with a witty response to that. Well, no, he probably wouldn’t. Stern was only good at being eloquent when he had a little time to practice, and being randomly accosted in the woods had caught him off guard.

“Well, then. I’m Stern,” he said, instead. That sounded decent. Barclay nodded slowly, and Stern suddenly wondered whether Barclay was a first or last name. It was rude to give someone your surname when they gave you their first name, right? He thought that might be rude. Which meant that Stern was usually rude, given that he could count on his hands the number of times he’d given out his first name in the past decade.

Sober Stern hadn’t considered that detail, which meant drunk Stern had to. Unfortunately, he was drunk Stern, which meant he didn’t have the brainpower to reevaluate his entire life and hold conversation.

“So, now do you want to talk about it?” Barclay asked. He sounded just a little annoyed, but mostly…was that worried? Stern supposed that sitting on the ground in the woods and not responding to external stimuli for a couple of minutes was probably pretty worrying, so he’d let Barclay have that.

“What?” Stern asked, because his life crisis had kind of driven the beginning of their conversation from his mind.

“Not really.” Yes, actually. He really wanted to talk about it, but he most definitely was not going to on account of it made him sound like an idiot. Which, he already looked like an idiot, so maybe he ought to care less about sounding like one. But he technically did have a reputation to maintain. Sure, Barclay probably wasn’t going to go tell the FBI about Stern whining to him at ten fucking pm on a Friday night, but it was the principal of the thing.

“Alright then. Um. Is there someone I should go…bring here?”

Stern took a deep breath, because the alternative was probably screaming and he most definitely didn’t do that in front of still kind of strangers. Especially hot ones.

No, drunk Stern. Stop thinking about how he’s hot.

“There’s no one,” he said, and he only sounded kind of pathetic. Or, he thought he did. Barclay looked kind of concerned, though, so maybe not. Stern sighed, and admitted to himself that the urge to complain about his shitty day overpowered the urge to not vent in public. “Okay, so, maybe I do need to talk.”

Barclay nodded, then carefully sat down beside Stern. Closer than Stern felt almost complete strangers should sit, but far enough away that idiot Stern that keeps forgetting he just got dumped felt disappointed.

“So, uh, bad breakup?” Barclay guessed. Stern laughed, a short, harsh laugh, and he wished he still had a drink to take a dramatic swig of.

“That obvious?” He replied, settling for a self-deprecating smile.

“Well, I was pretty sure no one died. So it was that or you got fired. Glad I guessed right, though.” Barclay grinned. Yes, drunk idiot Stern’s initial conclusion that Barclay had a nice smile was correct, and not-idiot Stern was very annoyed. “Would’ve been kinda awkward if I’d been wrong, yeah?”

“Getting broken up with is just getting fired from being in love. Basically.” It had sounded more eloquent inside his head, but Stern would settle for coherent. More than settle, because Barclay chuckled again, and idiot Stern decided it was even nicer than his smile. Not-idiot Stern gave up.

“And getting fired is just getting dumped by your boss?” Barclay shot back.

“Exactly.”

They shared a look, and Stern felt himself smile. Well. This was ruining his plans to find some corner of the woods and sulk for the entire night, but he found he didn’t mind too much.

“So, how long ago did it happen?” Barclay asked.

“You said it’s ten, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s been, hm. It was eight thirty when I started getting worried and went to go look for him…so an hour and a half, maybe?”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I figured you were out camping to get over-“ Barclay paused abruptly. “Wait, look for him?”

Stern nodded, which didn’t do great things for his internal sense of balance.

“He said he had to go to the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, I get worried and go to check on him. Guess where he wasn’t?”

“Are you sure he hasn’t been, uh, kidnapped or eaten by a bear or-“

“His car’s gone,” Stern said, scowling. He felt a little bad about cutting Barclay off, or maybe just about the fact that it’d made the other man flinch. “Which, you know, is the car we both drove up in.”

There was a moment of silence. Stern spent most of it trying to decide whether to be angry at his brand new ex, or annoyed with himself, or worried that he’d killed this conversation for good.

“Sorry I. Wow. That’s.”

“Yeah. You know, I’ve heard of going to the bathroom to ditch a bad date, but I’d thought he would be too polite to do that where I have no cell reception.”

“Do you…” Barclay winced. “No, sorry, that’s a personal question. Nevermind.”

“Do I know why he did it?” Stern leaned back on his hands to look at the sky, in the hopes the stars would make him feel better. They didn’t, and looking up just made him fall onto his back, so instead he turned back to Barclay. “No idea! We were just talking, having a normal conversation that was going perfectly well. Then,” Stern reached into his jacket pocket, panicking when his hand didn’t immediately close on his badge. As it turned out, his pockets were just a lot deeper than he’d thought. He waved the badge in front of him as he continued, “he asked me about this.”

Barclay just looked confused, and Stern realized abruptly that the way he’d phrased that last sentence made no sense.

“Sorry. It’s…I’m in the FBI, and I just got transferred. He asked…he asked what the department was, and when I said he went…you know.”

“He fucked off?”

“Yeah.” Stern squinted at the badge. “Don’t know why, though. If I told him I was specializing in homicide then hey, maybe that just means I was dating a serial killer but…”

“But what?”

“They put me in Unexplained Phenomena. You know, the paranormal division?”

Stern thought Barclay might’ve stiffened for a moment. Thought that the laugh he let out a second later might’ve been a little nervous. But hey, he wasn’t disappearing into thin air, so it was better than the last person he’d mentioned his job to.

“I know,” Stern said, deciding that it must’ve just been how unrealistic it all sounded. “I mean, I always figured that the United States government had a paranormal division, I just never thought that I’d…join it.”

He slipped his badge back into his pocket, deciding not to mention that it was basically the job he’d dreamed of getting as a kid.

“So, what, do you go find psychics or something?”

“No clue. My new superiors were…well, they were pretty vague, and I don’t start till Monday.” Stern smiled, trying not to look too bitter. “This was supposed to be us celebrating the new assignment.”

Barclay hummed sympathetically, some strange look on his face that Stern would make sure to overanalyze in the morning. If he remembered it.

“Well, if he’s not going to celebrate with you, would. Uh. Would some strangers work?”

Stern stared at him for a second, trying to process that offer. He failed.

“What?”

“I’m here with some friends. They’re, uh, kind of rowdy. But they like celebrating stuff, and they don’t run off in the middle of the night.” Barclay paused. “Well, a couple of ‘em do, but that’s just to go make out in the woods, and they usually get back to their tents after.”

“Are you sure? I’ve never, you know, gone on a group camping trip,” aside from FBI wilderness training, which very much didn’t count, “but uh. I’m sure bringing a sad drunk guy to the party breaks some kind of rule.”

Barclay scoffed, already standing. Even though they hadn’t been sitting that close together, Stern still felt the chilly air left by his absence.

Ugh, he could feel the cold. That meant he might be sober soon.

Stern was coming to grips with that fact as Barclay held out his hand. He reached out and took it on instinct, and ended up so distracted by how warm it was that he hardly noticed as Barclay easily pulled him to his feet. He stumbled a little bit, reaching out with his free hand to stabilize himself. Somehow, this meant his hand ended up on Barclay’s chest.

Stern tried to remind himself that he just got dumped, and he was drunk, and he should probably chill for at least a day because rebounding never worked out. But, hey. It wasn’t rebounding if he was just making himself a little dizzy with the realization that the handsome guy that had invited Stern to his campground was definitely strong enough to bench press a tree, right? That was just being reasonable, and besides, Barclay had given absolutely no indication that he found Stern attractive. So it was fine. Absolutely fine.

“I know I’ve been asking if you’re alright a lot. But are you, uh, alright?”

Stern really had to figure out how to be drunk without standing and staring at nothing – or at people’s faces – for longer than he could pass off as casual.

“Hey, it could be worse. You could be an angry drunk. Or, uh, a crying drunk. One of my best friends is a crying drunk.”

“I said that out loud,” Stern said, and wanted to die.

“Sure did,” Barclay replied, smiling. Stern was pretty sure he should be annoyed about someone laughing at him, but on Barclay it somehow didn’t seem cruel. “Now, uh, do you wanna get going?”

Stern nodded, following Barclay until they reached a campsite just two lots away from his. He resisted the urge to back away and sprint into the woods. You don’t know if they saw you feeling sorry for yourself, he told himself. Barclay didn’t react, which meant Stern had probably managed to keep the thought inside his head.

“Barclay! We thought you got lost!”

The woman who had said that was sitting backwards on a folding camp chair, which should’ve looked awkward. Somehow, she pulled it off, just like how she pulled off the bright red pompadour. She was grinning, and Stern got the feeling she was the kind of person that grinned easily.

Then she caught sight of him, and that grin turned…curious? Maybe sly. Definitely sly.

“Who’s that?” She asked, and the man sitting next to her gave her a look.

“Aubrey, stop trying to give people meaningful looks. It’s fuckin’ unnerving.”

“Yeah, well, I’m always right, so,” she trailed off. Barclay sighed.

“When you don’t scare ‘em off.”

“Aw, c’mon Duck! That was one whole time. And technically one of them was Ned’s ex, who came back eventually and therefore doesn’t count.”

“She has a point about that,” a man, probably Ned, added helpfully.

“I’m not cooking breakfast for you tomorrow, Aubrey.” Barclay stepped into the circle of camping chairs and Stern followed. There were…a lot of people. Stern was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this was a mistake, but by that point Barclay was gesturing toward an empty seat and he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

As soon as he was close enough for the firelight to illuminate his face, Aubrey narrowed her eyes at him. She stared at him. He stared back. She continued staring at him. Stern got even more annoyed with himself for staring at people while drunk, because having turned against him was very unsettling.

“Oh, hey!” She finally said, leaning back in her chair. She flailed a little as she almost lost her balance, and the tall, blonde woman on her other side put a hand on her back to stabilize her. “You’re the guy that was solo drinking earlier!”

“I should go,” Stern said, “I just realized I have something I need to do.” Like hiding in his tent for the rest of his life.

“No you don’t,” Barclay said, then turned to Aubrey. “Please, Aubrey, I’m begging you. Stop being like this for ten minutes.”

“Okay, fine.” Aubrey made it sound like that was some sort of great burden. But, when she continued with, “so, who is this?” There was less innuendo and more genuine curiosity.

“I’m Stern,” he said.

“But what’s your name.”

It was Stern’s turn to squint at her.

“Oh. Wait. My name’s a word,” he said, once he managed to fully process what she’d just said. “I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, we got that.” Duck shifted, adjusting the Smoky the Bear ball cap he was wearing.

“I don’t normally get drunk at eight pm. Or alone.” Or ever, really.

“Sure,” Aubrey said, and almost sounded like she believed him. Another woman, off to the side of the fire, scoffed in a way that indicated she very obviously didn’t.

“My boyfriend dumped me and now I’m stranded in the woods.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. But he’d already complained to Barclay, which meant there was a decent chance they’d find out anyway. Besides, it turned out complaining felt pretty damn good, especially with how offended Aubrey immediately looked.

“Okay, fair,” Duck said, as the blonde woman put a hand on Aubrey’s shoulder and forced her to stay sitting.

“I’ll fight him for you,” Aubrey declared.

“Babe, he drove away,” the blonde woman said. It didn’t sound like she was arguing with the concept, just the logistics.

“Did he take his stuff?” Aubrey asked. Stern shook his head. “I’ll fight him when he comes back for his stuff, then. I can wait for that. I can wait a long time.”

“You’re not gonna fight him when he gets back, Aubrey. You’re just fuckin’ tipsy.” Duck rolled his eyes, then looked at Stern. “She gets enthusiastic when she’s tipsy.”

“I’m always enthusiastic!”

“Alright, she gets more enthusiastic.”

“I will assist you in destroying him, if you – unlike some weaklings – have the courage to wield me,” a muffled voice said from inside a nearby tent.

“Who said that?” Stern asked.

“Uh, absolutely no one. Definitely not-“

“It’s Duck’s stupid action figure,” Aubrey interrupted, “Got it for his sister’s kid, then forgot to take out the batteries when we got here.” Aubrey tilted her head meaningfully toward the tent. Duck sighed, unzipped the tent, and disappeared inside.

“That’s…” Stern paused, trying to think of a way to express his thoughts that wasn’t rude.

“A shitty toy?” Duck guessed from inside the tent. “Yeah, I’m realizing that.”

There were more muffled sounds, and then complete silence as Duck…was Duck piling every single duffel in the tent into a corner of the tent?

That was a problem for sober Stern, drunk Stern decided.

“Hey, uh, sorry about the whole innuendo thing,” Aubrey said, out of nowhere. Stern wondered if that was a distraction. It worked.

“It’s no problem?” He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question. Barclay dropped into a seat beside him, sighing heavily.

“Aubrey, please. I’m begging you. Shut up.”

“No, I need to apologize properly.”

“This ain’t apologizing,” Duck chimed in, not looking away from whatever he was doing. “This is furthering your fuckin’ agenda.”

“It’s just that you’re Barclay’s type, so I assumed-“

Barclay interrupted her by groaning, and by the time Stern’s head whipped around to look at him – which was, despite the fact that he was slightly less drunk than before, still a bad idea – his head was in his hand.

“Babe, please,” the blonde woman begged. Aubrey smiled unrepentantly, and high fived Ned. Tried to high five Ned. They both missed.

“I hate to admit it, but he ain’t wrong,” the woman from the other side of the fire said. Barclay let out a noise that might’ve been a scream.

“I’m your what?”

“That’s not why I did…Aubrey, why are you implying…I’m so sorry about her, that wasn’t why I did that.” Barclay was definitely blushing, and Stern wasn’t sure if that had him excited or panicking.

You can’t try and rebound literally an hour and a half after getting dumped. Stern reminded the smart part of his brain that he’d already told it to be quiet.

“I wasn’t trying to come onto you, I promise. I was just worried about you.”

“Um,” Stern said, then took a second to try and think of something valid to follow that up with. “It’s…fine? I didn’t think you were.”

It had been kind of disappointing, actually.

“Anyway, Duck. Do you have your situation handled?” The blonde woman asked, cutting into the awkward silence.

“Yeah,” Duck responded, stepping back out of the tent and zipping it back up with more force than Stern thought was warranted. “Anyway, what the hell were we talking about before?”

“How you ate shit skateboarding last week!” Aubrey said, enthusiastically. Duck looked like he regretted his entire life.

“I did not.”

“You did to.”

“I am inclined to agree with Aubrey, my friend.”

As the argument settled into comfortable background noise, Stern leaned over to Barclay.

“You’re my type too,” he whispered as quietly as he could manage. The others didn’t stop their conversation, which Stern hoped was an indication he hadn’t mucked it up too bad.

“What?” Barclay asked, eyes wide.

“You’re my type, too,” Stern repeated, then realized Barclay most definitely wasn’t asking because he hadn’t heard.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that because you’re drunk?”

Stern hummed thoughtfully.

“I am stupid when I’m drunk,” he mused, softly. Barclay deflated, just a little, which very much wasn’t Stern’s intention. “Hey, do you think you’ll still be awake in an hour?”

Barclay glanced over at the rest of the group, just in time for Aubrey to laugh loudly enough to break noise curfew and nearly topple into the blonde woman at her side.

“Even if I didn’t want to be, yeah. Why?”

“That’s how long it’ll take for me to not be stupid,” Stern said, in what he hoped was a properly serious voice. “I’ll tell you again then.”

Barclay opened his mouth. Barclay closed his mouth. Barclay opened his mouth. Barclay gave up on whatever he’d initially intended to say, and smiled.

[crashdevlin]

Hands

TITLE: Hands

AUTHOR: @crashdevlin

PAIRING: Clint Barton X Reader

RATING: Explicit

SUMMARY: Y/n was on the fast track to being a high-level SHIELD agent until Hydra came out of the woodwork. Three years later, she’s working for the Avengers. Written for @fandom-and-feminism and @fadingcoast‘s Marvel Smut Writing Challenge.

NOTES/WARNINGS: Genius!Reader, SHIELD Agent!Reader, brain damage, angst (cause of brain damage), self-worth issues (cause of brain damage), masturbation, elevator sex, oral sex (fem and male rec), a bit of dirty talk, unprotected sex, semi-public sex

PROMPT:  Character A speaks multiple languages and Character B thinks A can’t speak their language, until A reveals they have heard all the things B has said about them, and how bad B wants them.

The first time it happened was the first time he walked into the Avengers compound and saw you. Even from across the room, the very large room, even with your own eyes focused on Tony Stark (who was running down the specs of an Iron Man suit he was midway through creating in such a rapid fashion that you couldn't help but think he was trying to overwhelm you with tech talk) you could feel eyes on you. You maneuvered yourself so that you could see who was staring at you in the reflection of a high, tilted window over Tony's head.

You watched as Clint Barton grabbed Natasha Romanoff's attention and his hands flew into action. *Who is the new girl?*

Romanoff's hands are impossibly fast, so fast that you almost didn't catch her spelling your name out, alphabetically and following with *Ex-S-H-I-E-L-D, out of commission since S-H-I-E-L-D fell.*

*Operation or Technology?*

Natasha smirked as she made a 'V' with her right hand and slid it through the cup shape of her left hand. *Both.*

Clint's eyes went wide. *No shit?*

*Semester with Technology, summer with Operation. P-h-D in Chemistry and Mechanical Engineering. Highest mark given on my Operation course.*

*Shit.* He looked away from you and picked up his quiver from the ground. You had to read his lips for the next bit. "Too smart for an idiot like me."

"I'm gonna go ahead and stop you, Mr. Stark, because the last thirty seconds you've just been spouting nonsense. I've researched your work, especially the mechanical complexity of the Iron Man Suits marks 1 through 35 and Obadiah Stane's Warmonger armor. Mark 1 is actually my favorite because it was built with practically nothing besides your genius." Your eyes fell to Tony's face, which was looking a bit proud but mostly just shocked. "I recognize that I am not as intelligent as you, sir, I think there's only a handful of people who come close, but do spare me the bullshit. I need to save the brainpower I've got for real issues."

"Right. Welcome to Team Avengers." He said, with a smirk.

"Thank you. Now, if you don't mind?"

"I do not." He said, gesturing away from you.

You smiled and walked over to Natasha. "Agent Romanoff!"

The redhead smiled at you as you approached. "We're not SHIELD anymore, y/n. You can call me 'Natasha'."

"Right. Of course."

"And this is Clint, also no longer SHIELD." Natasha said, nodding at Clint.

You smiled. "Of course I know Hawkeye." You offered your hand and he took it with a nod. "I did a study on you for extra credit in my Marksmanship class."

"You what?!" His eyebrows scrunched together.

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't really need to do the extra credit but it did boost my GPA to a 4.8 and that was nice." You dropped his hand and tucked your arms behind your back. "Besides, I had a weekend free."

"A 4.8? I didn't think there was a 4.8." Clint said.

"What can I say? I'm an overachiever."

"How's the head?" Natasha asked.

"Doctors say it's as good as it's gonna get. Got a gnarly scar, though." You said, flipping your hair to show the scar across your scalp from the Hydra bullet that had you in a coma for months and extensive therapy afterward.

"Your first battle wound. Nice." Natasha said with a smirk.

"What happened?" Clint asked.

You chuckled and dropped your hair. "Hydra doesn't really take 'no' easily. When they took the Tech Academy, they tried to convince me to turn and I spit in their faces... and shot three of them." You shrugged. "So they shot me back. I'm sure they thought I was dead."

"But a bullet can't keep this one down. Was it three months in a coma?" Natasha asked.

"No, six months in a coma, eighteen months of physical and cognitive therapy. I'm at about seventy percent which is..." You gave a small sigh, a flash of depression shooting through you. "...good as it's gonna get, but still, apparently, good enough for Tony Stark."

"We're lucky to have you. You at seventy percent is better than most of the agents that ever came out of the SHIELD academy." Natasha praised.

You nodded, not really believing her. "Thanks, Natasha. I just work harder than everybody else."

"So... sorry... you're not gonna be in the field, then?" Clint asked.

Natasha touched the fingers of her right hand to her forehead, then brought them down to a 'y' shape. *Why?*

Clint smiled as he turned to Nat and quickly responded. *She hot and broken. She would make me distracted.*

*I'm not?*

*I'm immune to your charisma. No distracted.*

"I'm offended, Clint." Natasha said, obviously not meaning it. "She'll be fine in the field, won't you, y/n?"

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. "I'll need to do extensive training with the team before I trust myself in the field. You know, learn limits, yours and mine. Luckily, I'm good for more than just kicking ass, so... Anyway."

"Have they set you up in one of the rooms, yet?" Natasha asked as the two of you walked away from Clint.

"Yes. I'm right down the hall from Captain Rogers' room."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second time it happened was after you'd been working with the Avengers for about a month. Tony was throwing a party. You learned quickly that Tony liked his parties, small and big. You usually went for the wallflower approach for his parties, especially the big ones. With that much going on, it played hell with your concentration. You supposed it was good practice, though, since a fight was almost never gonna happen in an isolated environment.

"~ey, y/n. ~~~~ rink?" Clint's voice came across in pieces.

You turned on the couch to look at him. "What?"

"I asked if you wanted a drink." He answered as he sat on the arm of the sofa.

You gave a nervous chuckle and shook your head. You gestured at your temple. "I don't think that'd be a good idea."

"'Cause your brain thing?" He asked softly.

"Yeah. It's not..." The words stalled in your throat. "I..." Your eyes clenched closed as you fought to get your brain to cooperate.

"Hey, it's cool. Don't stress. That makes it worse, right? Water?"

"Thin Q. Fuck. Thank. You." You stressed, forcing a deep breath.

"What did I just say?" He smirked as he jumped up and rushed to the bar to get a glass of water. You smiled at him as he handed you the glass. "So, have Tony and Bruce come up with anything for the... you know, to get you to a hundred percent?"

You balanced the cup on your knee and sighed. "Uh, they're working on a.... a... not a hat... a... god, it's bad tonight." You tried to shut out the music and the conversations around you as you took a deep breath and tried again. "A helmet that will help heal the remaining scarring and then they're planning to... something with the synaptic connections." You shook your head in frustration.

"Hey, it's not-"

"Don't tell me it's not so bad, Clint." You snapped. He raised an eyebrow at you as you looked down at your lap. "You don't know what it's like... to be... I'm a genius. I was top of my class, every class, and now I can't remember the word 'helmet' and I can't trust myself to do my damn job without fucking it up." Tears popped up around your eyelashes as you spoke. "Do you know how many times I've had Tony come behind me and check my work to make sure I haven't fucked something up so bad that I'd get you all killed? Do you know how many times he's found problems?"

You barked an unamused laugh. "I don't. He doesn't even tell me. He just fixes it and moves on. I don't even know why he hired me."

"Y/n..."

"I'm such a waste here." You stood, quickly, ignoring the glass of water that fell to the ground at your feet. "I'm... you... I... fuck. Why is my foot wet?" You looked down, seeing the overturned glass. "Damn it!"

"Hey, just sit back down. I'll get a towel." Clint said, softly, without an ounce of pity.

You knew that most of the others at the party, the non-Avengers and non-SHIELD agents, they would likely assume that you were just drunk, as you cried while Clint dried your foot off. Natasha, however, knew that wasn't the case. Her hands went to work as soon as Clint looked up at her. *She okay?*

Clint looked at you as you wiped at your cheeks. *She overwhelmed.* He stood and looked down at you. "You all right?"

You looked up at him and nodded, slightly. "Sorry to unload on you like that."

"Don't apologize." He walked away to stand with Natasha, but he must not have wanted anyone to listen in to their conversation because he started to sign to her. *She wants to be herself again.*

Natasha shook her head. *She was in a C-O-M-A for six months, C. She has brain damage. She's lucky to be alive.*

*I know. She knows. Does not make better. She thinks she should not be here.*

Natasha smirked. *Afraid she will leave?*

*N., don't start this again.* Clint turned to walk away but the redhead stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

*You have a thing for her. Why don't you just tell her?*

*She has enough worry. Maybe when she better.*

Natasha gave a pointed look at the archer. *And if she doesn't get better? Spent a month hearing you cry about-*

*I don't cry.*

*You do. All the time. You tell me how pretty she is, how sweet, how smart. I am your best friend, but I can't keep hearing about how much you want to fuck her. Man up.*

Clint looked offended. *Fuck you, N.*

She smirked as she signed. *Will that bring your balls back?*

*Why do I talk to you?*

*No one else knows Sign Language.*

You bit your lip and stood, silently excusing yourself from the party to go to your room. No wonder Clint was so nice to you, he wanted in your pants. Not that you were opposed to that idea, the revelation just couldn't come at a worse time. While you were dumbed down and frustrated, not feeling even seventy percent of your former self... how could you even begin to entertain the thought of sex?

But as you lied in bed, you did entertain the thought of sex with Clint. You entertained the thought of his muscular archer's arms, his blond hair and blue eyes. You thought about those calloused fingertips on your ankle as he dried your foot, imagined how those fingertips would feel on your other, more sensitive places. Your hand slid under the band of your pants and between your legs, fingertips sweeping across your clothed lips for the first time since before you got shot. You gasped at the feeling, trying to move slowly even as you started to get excited.

You didn't realize how much you'd missed this feeling. The heat slowly rising under your skin, blooming between your thighs. You slipped your hand into your panties and brought your middle finger between your lips. "Oh." You breathed out as your finger slid into your entrance. You slid it out, pulling your hand up to circle your newly-wet finger around your clit. You started to repeat the action over and over, adding your first finger to the middle one. It didn't take long for you to throw out the plan of moving slowly, rubbing furiously at your bundle of nerves. "Fuck!" You moaned out as your body exploded with your first orgasm in years. "My god." You panted.

You sat up, pulling your hand from your pants and looking around the room. "You know what..." You whispered to yourself, before stomping out of your room and back into the party. You zeroed in on Clint and walked up to him with a confidence that you'd only been faking since you woke up. "Hey."

"Hey, y/n." He looked down at you from his spot on the balcony, his feet hanging over the railing. "You feelin' better?" He shouted over the music.

"It's a little louder than-"

"What?!"

You chuckled and raised your hands. *It loud here.* You signed at him.

Clint's eyes widened. *You sign?* He scrambled to his feet and hopped over the railing to land at your feet.

"When I woke up, I couldn't talk. I had damage to my vocal cords from the intubation, so I had to learn ASL. The simplified, non-verbal communication fit really well with my capacity at the time... and it was interesting, learning different dialects of ASL. Like, did you know that there are three or four different ways to sign the word 'fellatio'?"

Clint's mouth made a surprised 'o'. "Uh. I mean... yeah. They're all pretty much pantomiming the act. There's only one for... you know, for women. Why didn't you tell me that you could sign?"

"You don't use it very often. I never use it, anymore."

"But, I do use it. Nat and I use it for coded communication."

"I know." You smirked up at him. "It's kinda cute for you guys to stand there, having these conversations that you think are secret. She's pretty affectionate when she thinks no one can hear her. Until you frustrate her, of course."

"Frustrate her?"

"Yeah. Then she tells you to 'man up'."

His eyes went wide and you kinda loved the amount of light shining in the bright blues. "You saw that?"

You shrugged. "I've got brain damage, not eye damage. You were literally twenty feet away."

"Yeah, speaking of... you seem really-"

"I went and rested and thought about things and got my brain situated and decided that I'm not gonna let you use my damage as an excuse for your cowardice."

"My what?"

"Laziness more accurate?" You asked, smirking.

"Hey, whoa. That's kinda rude, y/n."

"Clint. Seriously. I'm saying I'm interested. Do you need to adjust your hearing aids? Or should I sign it?" You made a 'V' with each of your hands and tapped them together, then pointed at yourself. *Fuck me.*

"Are you drunk?"

"No. You know I haven't had a drop."

"Then this is some of that poor judgment shit that comes with the-"

"Why would it be poor judgment, Clint?"

"Because I'm me. You know me. I'm not worth-"

"Oh, my god, dude! I thought I had self-worth issues but you are ridiculous." You grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. His hands immediately grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him as you opened your mouth and licked his lips. You let go of his shirt and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his and forcing his hands to slide back to your ass.

"About damn time!" Tony yelled across the room as he started toward you. He was drunk. Tony usually was by this point of the party. "We've all been waiting for you to make a move since I hired her, Barton."

You both pulled out of the kiss to look at the billionaire but didn't give up your embrace, holding onto each other as your teammates surrounded you. "He didn't move." Steve said, taking a drink of beer.

"She did?" Tony asked. "Wow. You know, I expected better of you, y/n/n. Out of all of the eligible bachelors and bachelorettes in this building, you pick that one?"

You chuckled. "Let's just chalk it up to the brain damage putting me on Barton's level and leave it at that."

"Hey. Rude." Clint responded, slapping his hand across your ass. You jumped and giggled. "Anyway, Stark, if you were that invested in me making a move, why didn't you say something?"

"Pepper told me not to."

"We all did." Steve said, smiling. "Because it's less his business than it is Natasha's."

"He complained to me about it for a month. It's my business." Natasha said.

"You know this asshole was using my TBI as an excuse not to step up? Who does that?"

"Someone who knows he's a stress magnet and wanted you to get well before he added shit to your manure pile?" Barton answered.

"You think I can't take your stress? I survive every day with the knowledge that I'm never gonna be who I was before Hydra got a hold of me. I can handle you, arrow guy."

"Yeah, we'll see." He pulled out of the embrace and smirked. *My bedroom or your bedroom?*

"Mine. Duh." You pulled him toward the elevators. "You know, I've seen your medical file, Hawkeye. A few more concussions and you'll be just as brain-fucked as I am."

"So, I got, what, two weeks?" He joked, tapping the 4 button on the elevator.

"If you're lucky." You smirked at him as the doors slid shut.

"You sure you wanna do this, y/n?"

"Clint." You shook your head. "Hydra has taken so much from me. My brain, my career, my friends, they've taken three years of what should've been an active and acrobatic sex life. They're not taking any more. Fuck me, dude. I'm not a glass doll."

"All right, but if I break you, the only one you have to blame is yourself."

"Your dick's not that big, Clint."

"You haven't even seen it, yet!" He said, offended.

"You wear a tight leather suit on missions and tight jeans at parties. I'm more aware than you think."

"Maybe I'm a grower. Ever think of that?"

"Every guy's a grower, Barton. That's basic male anatomy."

"Yeah, but some guys grow bigger, like exponentially, than other guys."

You rolled your eyes. "Clint. I want it no matter the size, okay? You don't need to be all defensive. I haven't been laid since two weeks before I got shot. I'm not looking for some monster-"

"Look." He grabbed your hands and pulled you closer to him. "I'm not trying to be some compensating asshole here." He placed your hands on the bulge in the front of his jeans and you ran your fingers across an erection that was a lot bigger than it always seemed in his super suit.

"Oh. Well... still don't think it's gonna break me, but let's get to bed and let's see."

"That sounds like a challenge, babe."

"Are you calling me a pig or a child because either would be weird considering how hard you are for me right now?" You squeezed him through his jeans and he grunted.

"Woman. I meant 'woman'. Hot, sexy, super-genius... fuck, FRIDAY, how long's it take to get to the fourth floor?"

"It takes exactly forty-five seconds to get from the ground floor to the support staff housing on the fourth floor, Mr. Barton, assuming there are no stops on the floors between. However, I was instructed by Mr. Stark to run the elevators on their slowest setting. He said we needed to allow Miss y/l/n time to come to her senses." The Irish-accented AI explained over the unseen speakers.

"What a prick." You laughed. You shrugged. "All right, then. He wants us to spend our time in the elevator? Boss' orders. Hey, FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Miss y/l/n?"

"I think we're gonna need you to hold this elevator right where it is. Do not open the door for anyone except us. And, FRIDAY? It's 'Doctor y/l/n'."

"Yes, Doctor y/l/n."

You turned back to Clint and moved your hand from his bulge to his belt, flicking it open and going to work on his button and zipper. He looked down at you with wide eyes. "Are we really gonna do this here? I-I mean, I'm cool with it, it's just... you've never really seemed like the 'Love in an Elevator' kinda chick."

"It's a completely enclosed space, Clint. No windows. No one around. This is nothing. I once had a quickie in the elevator at the Triskellion."

"The one on the outside of the building?"

You nodded. "With all those windows, yeah." You hooked your fingers in his waistband and pulled his jeans and tight briefs down to pool over his black boots. "Wow." You raised your eyebrow as you wrapped your hand around his dick and ran your hand from the base to the tip. "Your tighty-whiteys are the reason you don't show, Barton."

"Those are black." He ground out through clenched teeth.

"Whatever. I've got brain damage, you're gonna mess with me about a damn color?" You didn't give him an opportunity to respond, licking the tip of his cock and letting your tongue slide along the underside.

"Fuck, y/n." He grunted, throwing his head back to thud against the shiny metal of the elevator paneling as you started bob back and forth on his dick. He moved to grip the railing tightly, his knuckles going white as his breathing picked up, heavy and hard. "You are... You are so good at that."

You pulled back and stood, leaving his dick wet and ready for release. "Thanks. You any good at it?"

"What is with you challenging me tonight?" He asked, annoyed as he pushed you against the opposite wall. He dropped to his knees and pulled your jeans and panties to your feet. "You're the one who hasn't done this in a bajillion years." He knocked your knees open wider and dove in, tongue first, licking his wide tongue at your clit as the thick middle finger of his left hand slid into your entrance.

You had to hold onto the railing to keep from falling over as he assaulted you with his tongue and fingers, sliding another in to join his middle finger and pumping them hard and fast, curling them every other time they were fully inside of you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered, licking his fingers as he stood and grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and bending you over. "Spend the last half hour challenging me and bein' a bitch. I'll fuck you. Fuck you 'til you can't move."

You slapped the wall of the elevator, your head hanging as the thick head of his cock pressed into your entrance. He pressed in slowly, pulling a moan out of you which turned into a whine as he grabbed your hips and pushed in the rest of the way with one hard thrust. "Fuck, Clint."

"You know, I didn't know you were such a dirty fucking whore. Making me fuck you from behind in the elevator, when anyone could see us on the cameras."

"Didn't make you do shit." You groaned. "You just rose to the challenge, arrow guy."

He snapped his hips forward several times, causing your head to drop forward. "Doesn't matter. You're dirty as hell and I fuckin' love it!" He muttered behind you. "Come off so sweet and perfect, but you aren't. Fuck, y/n."

"Reserved ain't the same as sweet. And fuck, Clint, harder."

"Sure thing." He said, tightening the grip he had on your hips and starting to pull you back against him with every thrust of his hips. The sounds of skin slapping against each other and the squelching sound of wetness filled the elevator, barely overshadowed by staccato moans and grunts. "Shit. I... y/n, shit." Clint groaned, moving his left hand to your shoulder and his right hand to sweep across your clit, urgently.

"Don't cum in me. Don't you dare-"

"Shut up!" He growled, his thrusts beginning to stutter. He took a deep breath, his fingers rolling your clit. "I won't, just fuckin'- Just cum already so I can."

"Such a gentleman. Letting the lady go first." He pinched your clit lightly and you moaned as your climax rolled across you. Clint gave two more pumps of his dick into you and then pulled out. You dropped to your knees and wrapped your lips around his cock, enjoying the twitching of the muscle as he filled your mouth with cum.

As you swallowed and licked your lips, you looked up at him as he panted, looking down at you with blown-out blue eyes. "You know... I don't think you're a lady." He chuckled, reaching down to correct his clothes.

You smirked as you stood, taking your pants and panties up to your waist as you did. "I'm okay with that. You?"

"Eh. Who wants a lady?" *I'd rather have a dirty whore.* He signed with a smirk.

"Well, you've apparently got one." You licked your lips and took a deep breath. "FRIDAY, take us to floor four, please."

"Yes, Dr. y/l/n."

*Dirty whore not done yet.* You signed, before leaning up and pressing your lips to his. Clint smirked, following you out as the elevator doors opened. No, you were not done by a long shot.

[coeurdastronaute]

Either/Or: Krypton 5

Previously on Krypton

The estate of the House of El sat on its ancestral plot to the west of Argo City. It was a glass and brick type that was unlike anything remotely normal to those from Earth. Sparse and large, it encompassed a kind of simple grandor, with its blue and gold symbols throughout, and the open doors so that the inside mingled with the outside almost interchangeably.

Throughout the land between the House of El and the city, hundreds of other properties existed in much the same way, though spread out and in a smaller fashion. The House of El had the luxury of time on its side, growing at a pace and era much longer than the rest of its distant neighbors. Often, Lena forgot that she was near the city at all. Her host family's house was its own ecosystem.

Lena’s wing was a microcosm of a microcosm, entirely self-sustaining and isolated from the bigger picture. It was a quiet refuge from the larger world. In the main room, Lena had stacks of books and papers, projects of her tinkering, ideas and words, scattered in somewhat neat, somewhat decipherable columns.

The bedroom was empty, nearly the opposite of the busy living room. All it contained was a bed, and that was all it needed. From time to time, a tablet or notebook would join her, but for the most part, Lena kept it as a refuge from thought. Dark greys and shades of white left the monochromatic room a relaxing paradise from all of the screens and colors of the new planet.

And then Kara existed, and brought in new sunshine and hues, all her own.

“Mmm, go back to sleep,” the Kryptonian whispered, furrowing, without even opening her eyes to confirm that Lena was actually awake.

The girl from earth just smiled and kissed bare shoulders. She shifted, turning over in Kara’s arms, and inhaling the smell. She couldn’t place it as anything she knew other than sunshine on an August day back home. The smell of heat and of spice that was distinctly incomparable. But it was purely Kara.

“You stayed.”

“Wasn’t I supposed to?”

This little feeling in Lena’s chest warmed itself. Like a kernel of popcorn, it burst with the surge and filled her body, radiating this thing she only just realized to be happiness. Cloaked in a certain beautiful woman and oddly sore and still very sticky from their activities just a few hours before, Lena closed her eyes and savored it.

Instead of answering, she kissed under Kara’s chin and earned a smile and tightening arms. Stuck so close together, they were almost atoms in the universe, in the microcosm. They sandwiched themselves together until they shared electrons.

“Last night you said you spent yesterday researching?” Lena whispered, resting her forehead against Kara’s neck.

“Love.”

Lena furrowed for a second and felt Kara’s nose migrate to her hair, she felt her inhale, and she felt her sigh.

“You were researching… love?”

“I wasn’t sure what it was. We have different definitions for these things.”

“You have definitions for love?” Lena wondered aloud, utterly confused despite Kara matter-of-fact answers.

“We don’t have it here, at least not the passionate kind,” she explained, adjusting and burrowing with a yawn, much disinterested in discussing her findings and instead eager to eek out a few more hours of peace and warmth.

“But your parents--”

“Why are you awake right now?” Kara complained. “Sleep.”

“What did you research?”

With a mighty sigh, Kara complained and grumbled, knowing full well that she was up for the day now. There was no way Lena Luthor was going to let her sleep, and there was no way she was going to escape being absolutely in love with it.

“We have a system here,” Kara finally began, knowing full well that she would do anything Lena asked. “The Matrix decides if matches are acceptable. It’s a complex system of accumulated knowledge and codes that forecasts and uses probability to--”

“You have a formula for love and affection?”

“I’m still very confused about all of it.”

“You did research.”

Lena murmured it with a little smile, though she was still confused about what exactly the research brought. Instead, she was just amazed that someone did research about a feeling she inspired within them.

So Lena kissed Kara’s neck and slid her hand up her spine, toying with the muscle there, running her nails along the skin. Lena wasn’t ready to get out of bed. It was still early, and they were just immovable objects who had nothing much but a feeling.

“One poet said that romance and love are why you stay alive, as humans,” Kara explained. “Another says he does not know how or when or where, but because he knows no other way. Love consists of two solitudes that meet, protect, and greet each other. Love is the answer to everything and the only reason to do anything. It is a serious mental disease.”

“You did a lot of research,” Lena nodded. “But none of it matters.”

“No?”

With a graceful push of her hips and slide of leg, Lena ended up straddling Kara. The sheets pooled at where they met, leaving them topless and messy from lack of sleep and an abundance of sex. Lena pushed her hair away from her face and let hands move to her hips where they held her in place. She ran her hand up Kara’s chest and appreciated the view with a mischievous smile and plenty of dawn left before they day had to begin.

“I don’t know a thing about love,” Lena nodded, finally dragging her eyes up Kara’s body to her neck, to her jaw, to her lips to her eyes. “You just feel it. It’s the simplest thing in the universe.”

Contemplative, brown eyes grew deep and heavy, pondering the words. The pause didn’t stop Lena from rubbing her palm over Kara’s breastbone. She hoped to rub a spot there that would learn to feel what she felt.

“You could have saved me a very long day in the Archives,” Kara grinned finally.

“We’re doing something. I don't know what. But it’s important. And it’s good. Please don’t overthink it.”

“No more thinking at all,” she decided, sitting up and looking at Lena’s lips. “I say I move to the application of all the research.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I want to know what it means to do to you what spring does to cherry trees.”

“Well, if it’s for great interplanetary understanding,” Lena shrugged, wrapping her arms around Kara’s shoulders and neck, tugging her closer as lips found her neck, under her jaw, bit her ear. “I’m all yours.”

In the large lab near the top of the Scientist Guild’s tower, a lot of white coats excitedly scurried about the large screens and computers. Outside, the heavy heat hung in the air, and sizzled the horizon to nothing, blurring everything together. No one took notice of the weather or the events outside of the screens. The entire world was irrelevant when all of that brainpower set its mind to a particular subject.

Kara said it was the warm season. That when it got to be hottest, it would be time for Lena to leave, and so, without knowing what that meant, without knowing what heat would be too much, Lena tried not to pay attention to the weather or the countdown to her departure, but rather contributed her brain to the melding of minds tasked with saving her planet.

Tucked amidst the crowd, Lena hid herself in a corner and smiled at the promising numbers coming through from the first couple of days of statistics. She had a lot of work to do, and time was running out.

“The generators are working well enough,” Lionel Luthor informed his daughter through the computer. “The tech is… it’s… magnificent.”

“How are the disposal teams doing with the nuclear sites? And the switch in agriculture? What about the--”

“Slow down, Lena. I can’t answer everything at once.”

Flushing with her father’s words, the tips of her ears burned as she took a deep breath and watched him read through a few papers.  The chat box popped up a second later as he asked about gathering information for other things, namely the Kryptonite that he believed could power advanced weaponry.

Lena looked around and began typing that she wasn’t sure about it and hadn’t learned anything. But her father was keen, was observant, and he saw the flicker of hesitation and worry in his daughter's eyes. It was weakness and he did his best to pluck it out, but it seemed to grow like weeds in her. No one else would have seen it.

“I’m very proud of you, Lena,” her father said. “I’m eager for you to be home with us again.”

The reality sank in once again, and Lena tensed. Or she could stay. She wanted to say that, she wanted to never have to leave, and not just because of Kara. Here, Lena fit in. She belonged in a way that she hadn’t before, and that was something she never knew she missed or didn’t even have until she got it. Krypton made sense to her.

All she could do was smile and nod.

The home at the edge of town was always safe and never besmirched. The noble house of El existed wit a perfect pedigree and grooming known only to few others on the planet. Their line was ancestral, and some even said came from the very gods themselves, though few would acknowledge or even admit to believing such things.

Instead, the home existed as a symbol of stability and aspiration. All else wanted to uphold the same vigorous morals and genuine kindness that the House of El perfected and exuded into the world.

And Kara was convinced that she was the downfall of the great lineage.

With a heavy sigh, she stood at the entrance to her home as she had innumerable times before in her life, though this time, instead of heading right inside, she paused and remembered the weight of it all. Unwieldy as it was, she furrowed and tried to adjust her shoulders under the weight.

Much of her childhood had been spent perfecting the art of chivalry in the Kryptonian sense. Polite discourse and diligent study were stressed highly among other important traits that the noble house was meant to exemplify. Kara could recite the ancient rules of hosts better than any other. She could sing the sacred songs, she could recall in an instant, the oaths of the people and what they meant.

And so, when she disrupted the Rite of Guest in her own house, in the sacred walls of her home, well, Kara was damn near inconsolable. It didn’t stop her. But still, inconsolable she remained. The uncontrollable part was because of Lena Luthor. The rest was all her own.

With a heavy sigh again, Kara let herself inside once again, turning the entire situation over and over and over again, just as she’d done for the past two days. It was the night that kept her confused, because when she was near Lena, she was certain, and she was happy in a way she never knew existed. When they were apart, the crushing memory of who she was and what it all meant made her brain hurt.

“Kara, darling,” her mother greeted in their native tongue, joyed to see her daughter out of the Archives. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I was, um, I needed-- how are you?” she finally decided.

“I’m well, I’m tired, but well. Just reviewing these reports your father and Lena put together about the results. There are somethings that just….” she trailed off and distracted herself while looking at the papers before shaking it away and meeting her daughter’s eyes again. “Should I have some dinner brought up soon? I didn’t expect you home.”

“No, no, I’m not-- yes, wait.  Yes, I’m starving.”

Confused by herself and the words, Kara shook her head and took a deep breath before joining her mother at the large table. All was quiet.

“Is there something--”

“I may have started Choosing. I maybe started it with Lena.”

Kara’s words rushed out as soon as her mother started talking. They weren’t rushed, they weren’t forceful or elevated, and more importantly, they weren’t said with guilt. Instead, Kara just sternly stated facts, and she held her breath in her chest after she finished.

“Choosing?” her mother repeated and furrowed before it clicked. “Choo-- With-- Kara? I thought-- Did she-- Choosing?”

Normally the most articulate person in the room, the lack of coherence was oddly startling to her daughter, but still, she waited and nodded.

“I haven’t spoken with her about our customs, and I’m not sure it’s the same, but there is something, and it is more than friends or colleagues.”

“She’s a guest in our home.”

“I’m aware. I looked at all of the old tomes I could find to see what the rules were, and I got similar wording, but a consistent theme.”

“She’s from Earth.”

“You stressed our relations with the--”

“Kara,” Her mother warned, interrupting wherever that thought or justification was heading. Her daughter knew enough to look guilty. When she looked away her mother studied her face.

Alura knew she’d have to be blind not to see this connection between the two of them. It was a great source of pride for her, that her daughter was capable of forging such strong friendships with people so different from themselves. But to Choose, to think of… with someone not of their planet. It wasn’t possible, she assumed.

“I feel very attached to her. There’s this… this… this pull,” she explained, her hand pressing against her chest as she did. “I think she’s important.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.”

The two sat at the table as food was brought up and placed in front of them. They lost their appetite though. Kara sighed and shook her head.

“I’m sorry I broke the rules,” she muttered. “But she invited me to her room. I have been researching the process of Choosing and how it all works. There’s no reason it can’t be her.”

“She’s not Kryptonian,” her mother reminded her. “Are you going to have her go to the Matrix?”

“I haven’t spoken to her about our way.”

“This is a mess.”

“Yes.”

“The delegation from Earth leaves soon,” Alura sighed as she began to eat. “If this is what you Choose, you should figure it out soon.”

“I’ll let you know.”

Kara didn’t feel any better. Instead, the worry in her chest still lingered, though her shoulders were a little lighter. The responsibility just shifted though. She earned a small smile from her mother, and took it as a victory.

“You should talk to Lena about the Matrix, and our customs,” her mother finally said before sipping her wine.

“I will.”

There was a second of quiet.

“Are you sure?”

Kara didn’t hesitate at all.

“I am.”

NEXT