#she sent me photos of her at someone's wedding and we talked about wearing matching suits and stuff

[undeadcutie]

i don't even really like the title of wife that much but i wanna be married soooo bad

[gh0stlyfixation]

The love of us

Part two

Paring: Simon x reader, mentions of König

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: smut, MDNI! Thigh riding, not implied but consensual actions. Drinking, swearing. Things kinda move quickly.

Part of “The love of us” series, part one - part three

I’ve never written smut so I hope it’s okay🥹

König had been sent out on a mission in his home country while Simon was left back enjoying his leave. It’s been a day since that appointment and Simon received a message that his results are in, “everything looks good! Your cholesterol is a little bit high but it’s expected when your diet is red meats only! Have a good day!” The message read. It’s true, he loves his steaks, it’s all König cooks for him. “Maybe I’ll add in more chicken,” Simon says to himself as he parks his car at the base's office parking lot.

Simon sees a shiny black BMW pull up, the windows are tinted and the engine is loud, but a pretty sounding loud. They must make lots of money. That’s when he sees a pair of heels step out of the car, a leg showing, and then he looks up at the person's face, it’s you.

Your wearing a black pencil skirt with a light blue blouse tucked in, and black heels to match. Your hair was up in a messy bun and glasses on your face, and no makeup on. He sees you place your purse over your shoulder and that’s when he realizes he’s staring at you because you look over and give him a wave, “Hi Ghost!” You smile.

FUCK! She’s smiling at me! He waved back smiling at you but she couldn’t see it through his mask, she sees the face shift under it.

She walked over to him, her heels clicking, fuck she looked good. As she gets closer he sees a diamond ring band on her right ring finger, almost looks like a wedding band, was she married? Simon thinks, no it would be on her left finger if so. “Call me Simon.” he tells you.

You nod and smile, “Good to see you again! Where’s König?” You asked him, seeming a little disappointed he wasn’t around.

“What? I’m not enough to talk with?” He teased.

“What! I-” you stuttered

He chuckled, “relax, I’m just teasing you. He’s out on a mission in Germany, also seeing some family members.” He said.

“Oh, why didn’t you go with him? To see his family?” You asked as the both of you walked to the building. Simon was surprised you knew of his relationship. Maybe word got around to you, “my nurse informed me, plus it was how you and him interacted that gave it away. I think you both are cute together.” You explained, surprising him more.

“Oh, well, his family isn’t too supportive so to ease the tension I don’t go. What about you? Do you have a partner?” He asked, casually trying to see what the band was about.

“Oh, um, no. But I was married.” You sighed, “he passed away a few months back before I moved here.” You say.

Simon felt bad for asking, he was mentally kicking himself, “how if I may ask?” He asked. He felt stupid again for asking such personal questions

You didn’t mind though. You didn’t have any friends here and it felt nice talking about this to someone, “cancer, stage 4 and aggressive.” You told him walking into your little office. You set your purse down and point at the picture of him, "that’s him a few days before he passed.” You said. Simon leaned down to look at the photo.

“I’m sorry for asking. I wouldn’t have if I knew it was such a bad history.” He spoke up looking at you.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t have any friends here so it’s nice talking to you.” You pathetically say.

How can you have no friends, or at least acquaintances in two months, “you have me and König, I know he likes you a lot.” Simon says. You scoff playfully and put on your white coat and grab a mirror to put mascara on.

“What do you do with your friends?” You asked.

“Drink with the boys, we don’t have many girlfriends.” Simon says.

“I like to drink.” You said.

“Want to get one tonight then?”

—

Simon picked you up from your apartment a few hours ago, you skipped out to his car wearing a sundress and you were now 6 drinks and 2 shots in, you were plastered. “This is so fun,” you giggled.

Simon was able to pace himself, and learned that you could not. Simon smiled at you through his mask, “is it?” He asked

“I bet you're cute under that mask, why do you wear it?” You asked pinching the mask around his cheek feeling how thick it was, “doesn’t it get hot?” You ask him ignoring the first question. “I bet you have more.” You continued. He chuckled at your actions and words, “oh, what about König? Man’s huge. He's hot, your hot too. Like two tall men? Hell yes. Fuck I’m speaking too much, where are my fries?” You said walking back to the bar and asking for your fries that were never ordered.

But Simon sat still at your confession, maybe she’s just too drunk. But she’s also said so much truth about herself, she can’t be lying.

Simon quickly sent König a message with a picture of you at the bar demanding your fries, “she’s just admitted that we're hot because we're tall. Also demanding fries.”

König messaged quickly, “fuck you managed to get a date with her in less than 48 hours of knowing her?” Completely ignoring that fact she called him hot.

Simon looked up and saw you demanding the fries you never ordered, Simon stands up to grab you from the bar, “come on, I’ll get you some fries on the way home.” He said.

“Okay!” You giggled forgetting about the bartender. You grasped his hand and Simon melts at this, you holding his hand, it's so tiny compared to his.

You skip into the parking lot pulling him with you, you hear simons phone ring. You keep moving as Simon struggles to get his phone from his pocket.

“Yeah?” He asked with a sigh not looking at the ID.

“Hello to you too. You ignored my message Liebling.” König said.

“Woo!” You yelled as you jumped.

Simon sighed again as you let go of him and ran to his car, “she’s a literal child when she drinks. I had to pry her away from the bar, she was demanding fries so much the bartender was getting frustrated.” Simon said as he unlocked his car for you to sit.

“She called us hot?” König asked him

“She said and I quote ‘man’s huge.’ About you and then said you were hot and that I was hot because we were two tall men.” Simon said with a stifled laugh.

König chuckled, “keep winning her over. Not sure when I’ll be home, unfortunately. My sister says hi by the way.” He says.

His sister was the only one who supported Simon and König, “tell her the same. I’m about to go now, I love you.” Simon said softly with a smile.

“I love you too,” and he hung up.

“Was that König?” You asked with your seatbelt on ready to go.

“Yes, he was asking about you.” Simon told you.

“Oh,” you say suddenly getting shy and quiet. Simon smiled at your reaction.

He placed a hand on your thigh and you tensed at the action but continued to smile, “no need to be shy, little girl.” Simon spoke.

Little girl, he called me a little girl, “I am anything but a little girl.” You pouted crossing your arms and making your breast squeeze together.

Simon looked over at you and noticed your pouting lips, god you looked hot, he thinks. You see him staring at you, and you do it back, you wanted to pounce on him.

And that’s exactly what you do. You quickly unbuckle your seat belt and push his mask just above his lips and grab his cheeks and pull him towards you and crash on his lips. Simon had no time to react and he knows it was your drunk impulsion to make you do this but he didn’t have it in him to tell you to stop. You both fight for dominance, you winning and sticking your tongue in his mouth grazing his. Simon placed his hands on your waist and hoist you up over the center console onto his lap not breaking contact.

You moan when he rubs your waist, everything feels 10x better, hotter. You only imagine if König was here, watching you both. You grow wet at the thought but pull away for some air. You place your hands on Simon's chest and unknowingly start rocking your hips on his clothed thigh, he doesn’t stop you.

You had control, something Simon doesn’t give away easily but he wasn’t going to do anything to you but kiss and watch, you were drunk. It felt so wrong but so right. You trusted him that much he knew.

You whined when Simon held you down by the waist, “that feel good pretty girl?” He cooed.

You nodded frantically placing your hands on his shoulders. He could feel the wetness seeping through his jeans, “s’good.” You moan going fast throwing your head back.

“You gonna make a mess on me? Come on darling, show me what you got.” He said.

You squeeze your eyes shut feeling your orgasm coming quickly, “I’m gonna cum!” You say before grabbing his face again and kissing him hard. He kisses back just has hard, helping you move.

“Ah-oh fuck Si!” He forces you through your orgasm as you jerked on him. You leaned your head against his forehead, suddenly sobar.

You hadn’t orgasmed in over a year, it felt so good. “You okay pretty girl?” He asked softly pushing some of your hair back and separating your faces to gauge how you felt.

“So okay,” you sigh with a smile. “Was that okay? I didn’t ask for permission, I kinda just did it.” You ask worriedly.

“It’s more than okay. A suprise for sure.” He says with a smile. You can see his smile for the first time.

“You have a pretty smile. I bet your face is even prettier.” You say trying to get him to take it off.

Simon thought hard about it. Only König gets to see his face and the outside world. He wears a mask to keep his identity hidden during work and combat. Not because he’s ugly as Soap so kindly asked.

“I want you to know only special people get to see it.” He told you.

“Oh,” you frown looking down, suddenly feeling stupid. Simon puts a finger under your chin and lifts your head back up to see his mask is long gone.

“And you are special.” He finishes as you look over his face, handsome, you think.

“I was right.” You said with a smile kissing him.

Then you remember König, you just came all over his boyfriend, and you get worried again. You get off Simon and sit in the passenger seat putting distance from you both, “what’s wrong?” Simon ask. His face grows in confusion.

“I just came all over you!” You exclaim.

Simon smirks, “yeah you did, and?” He ask.

“König is your boyfriend! You just cheated!” You say in disbelief.

“Trust me, if he was here, you’d be coming again but on his thigh.” Simon points out smirking more at you.

“What?” You asked, your eyes wide.

“We’ve been looking for a third party in our relationship. König and me have been smitten with you since we met you.” Simon confesses.

“You met me yesterday? And I was less then interesting yesterday.” You spoke with a scoff not knowing how to take this information.

“König liked your smile.” Simon says trying to make you feel better.

“Oh,” you said sitting up a little bit straighter. “And you?” You ask crossing your arms again.

“Your eyes.” He says to you while looking in at them.

You get shy once again, “let’s get you home. I know your going to be feeling a headache.” He spoke.

You nodded and looked down at his thigh, a damp dark spot shows and his cock bulging in his pants. You suddenly feel guilty, god damn, so many emotions! You thought.

“Don't worry about me, pretty girl.” He says as he notices your gaze. You wonder how big he is. He’s got to be massive. “Stop thinking about it,” Simon says. You instantly look away as Simon drives away to your home with a smile.

I’m fucked, you thought.

[rhysismydaddy]

365 Days: Part 2 (Feysand)

I feel like this should be beyond obvious at this point, but black lives matter. As a white person, I understand that I’ll never fully comprehend the struggle black individuals face on a daily basis. I stand with them, protesters, and activists as a lifetime ally. “Don’t be mad they’re rioting, be happy you don’t have to.” -- If you are not a supporter of the BLM movement, go ahead an unfollow me. I couldn’t care less. 

OKAY. Sorry this is a day late! This part kind of has it all (humor, fluff, some slightly kinky smut) so I don’t know how to describe it. I also hate it, but whatever. Part 3 (last part) out Friday!

Part 1

________________________________________________________________

Day 1, 7:13 AM

~Feyre~

Something warm laid across her cheek, and Feyre peeked an eye open, only to groan at who she saw staring down at her. “If you make a habit of waking me up at the ass crack of dawn, I can already tell you you won’t live through our year of marriage, Rhysand.”

He smiled. “You have to get up. We're taking wedding pictures.”

She didn’t see the point. They’d signed the marriage license last night. How he’d procured one in less than an hour, she didn’t even want to know.

“Why the hell would we do that?”

“Because I’m a public figure, and the newspaper asked for a quote on our marriage.” She groaned. “Now get your cute ass downstairs.”

She glanced at him speculatively but stayed firmly planted in the bed. “What’s downstairs?”

“Someone to help get you ready. Not that I don’t appreciate the bed head. Up.”

Feyre shook her head. “Ask me again in two hours.” She glanced at the clock. “Make it three.”

Her husband pinched the bridge of his nose, but stood back up. She closed her eyes, happy she’d won their first argument. 

Only to be proven wrong a moment later as the demon spawn flung back her blankets, grabbed her waist, and threw her over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Put me down,” she shrieked, beating the back of his toned legs with a fist.

Rhysand, calm as always, smoothly responded, “If I put you down, you’ll just get back in the bed.”

“No, I won’t,” she lied.

Even though she couldn’t see his face, she’d bet anything he rolled his eyes. He walked out his/her/their bedroom door and down the stairs, his casual gait suggesting nothing out of the order.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly to whoever was waiting.

Feyre peeked around his ass to see four complete strangers, varying levels of amusement on their faces. “Um, hi.”

She was placed on a salon-like chair. 

Which was odd, considering they were in the middle of the living room. 

Rhysand pointed at two hulking figures sitting on the couch. “These are my friends Cassian and Azriel. You’ve met.”

The smugness in his voice, combined with the shit-eating grins of the men he was referring to, had her snapping back, “Oh yes, my kidnappers. Sorry I didn’t immediately recognize you. I had a sack over my head last time we met.”

“I’m Cassian.” The larger of the two smiled. “I’m the one you tried to gut with a butter knife.”

“I’ll have to practice my aim.”

Cassian looked at the man standing next to her and winked. “I like her.”

The other man on the couch, Azriel, sighed and shook his head, resigned. 

Rhys just rolled his eyes and continued his introductions. “The two normal people here,” he gestured to a very brightly-dressed pair, “are here to do your hair and makeup and whatever else.”

He gave her a light kiss on the forehead, then spoke to his fellow criminals. “We have shit to do. Come on.”

“Are you off to do illegal activities, my dear husband?” 

“Don’t worry, Feyre darling. You won’t be without eye candy for too long.”

He laughed at the look on her face, then wisely jogged out the door before she could throw something at him.

She turned to the people left staring at her with wide eyes and repressed a groan. “Let’s get this over with.”

~Rhysand~

Two hours after he’d left, Rhys came back to the house, showered, and changed into a tux. Then he went to his backyard where the photographer had set up. 

“Where’s Feyre?” he asked the man as he messed around with lighting balloons.

The photographer gave him a knowing smile. “I want to get a picture of your reaction when you first see her.”

He was about to respond when the backdoor of the house opened and she walked out.

She was wearing a classic gown with long sleeves and a deep neckline, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. Her hair was up, and she had a veil trailing behind her. The sunlight made the white of her dress almost glow.

If she’d been beautiful before, now she was...

There were no words for how she looked.

Fucking radiant was a start.

She walked across the lawn to him and smiled, and he couldn’t keep the matching grin off his face if he tried.

Rhysand heard the faint snap snap snap of the camera and finally understood what the photographer had meant. 

He’d wanted to capture the moment the city’s Son of Satan was practically brought to his knees by a single woman. 

And Rhys didn’t even care.

Feyre finally drew close enough that he could see the details of her face. Even though he had a million more romantic things running through his brain, he murmured, “Who’s the eye candy now?”

“You are,” she said, as if it were obvious. “You look like sex on a spoon.”

His mouth dropped open, but before he could respond, the photographer butted into their moment. “Okay, I want you two to act like I’m not even here. We’re aiming for three or four really good shots, so just be natural, and I’ll let you know if anything has to change.”

They both nodded absently, still staring at each other. Rhys reached down to grab her hand, finger flicking the ring on her finger.

“I can’t believe our marriage is making the paper, and I didn’t even get a real proposal,” she teased. 

It was true. 

He’d put the ring on her bedside table the night before, too much of a simpering coward to give her the ring in person, too nervous about what’d she say. It had been his mother’s, and he’d once sworn to never let another soul have it. 

“I didn’t want to risk your wrath and wake you up.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

Almost on its own accord, one of his hands reached out to cup her cheek. He didn’t know if Feyre was acting or something else, but she leaned into his touch, a hand coming to rest against his chest.

“Beautiful, just beautiful,” the photographer cooed.

“You are,” he told his wife. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled.

“Annoying as hell, but beautiful.”

She shoved his shoulder and turned away, but he grabbed her wrist to spin her back, and decided to risk his life.

He kissed her.

Hands locked around her waist, lips crashing into hers, Rhysand kissed her like he’d been dying to since he’d seen her asleep in his shirt.

And she really, really kissed him back.

Feyre’s hands wound around his neck, and he lifted her up a little to get a better angle. Her lips opened to let his tongue in, and he had no other thoughts in his head besides the woman in his arms.

The photographer coughed pointedly. 

They ignored him.

Until Rhys finally relented and set her back on the ground, both of them panting for air.

“Sorry,” she told the blushing man, but he waved her off and insisted it happened all the time.

The thing was, it didn’t. 

Rhysand had kissed plenty of women in his lifetime, but none of them had made his entire body start simmering like that. 

Her blue eyes watched him speculatively as he slipped the ring off her finger, dropped down to one knee, and smiled. “Feyre darling, will you marry me?”

Despite already being legally married, she bent over and kissed him, then stole the ring back. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

Day 9, 8:04 PM

~Feyre~

Feyre had to admit that while the house outside the city had a charm and wholesome quality she’d come to admire, being trapped here had started to drive her slightly insane. 

Especially since Rhysand had been been on a business trip the entire week, so she’d been here by herself. 

After a tense phone call with her sisters--where Nesta had cackled and called her Satan’s nephew--and getting ahead in her textbooks, she was out of things to do. So she spent most of her time being a nosy little snob and going through her husband’s stuff.

Apparently, the Son of Satan had a very serious addiction to wine, if the cellar in the basement was any indication. 

But other than that--and a mysterious letter from a woman named Amren--he had no trinkets, pictures of family, or any other worthwhile gossip. 

The word “boredom” hardly covered it.

Once upon a time, Feyre wouldn’t have minded a couple days like this. When law school was in session, she didn’t have a spare moment and enjoyed when she got to do nothing. 

She didn’t bother lying to herself about why it was driving her insane now.

She missed Rhysand. 

After only a couple days of marriage, he’d wormed his way into her heart and made her start to rely on teasing him, seeing that devilish smirk, making him laugh. The nightly texts he sent her weren’t enough to satisfy her insane need to talk to him. He’d told her he was coming back later tonight, and she was practically coming out of her skin with excitement. 

She was an idiot, basically. 

This marriage wasn’t supposed to involve actual feelings. It was a publicity save. And despite giving her a hotter-than-hell kiss during their photo shoot, he hadn’t so much as touched her since. 

Feyre had the distinct feeling he was waiting for her to make the first move. 

Which, again, she normally wouldn’t mind. But something about Rhysand... she knew once she started down that path, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

So she slept in his bed, wore his t-shirts, and avoided thinking about how his mouth had felt against hers. 

And how he’d tasted like chocolate and watermelon and-

Cutting that thought off, she resolved herself to be cool and calm and collected when he came back. She needed to nip the feelings she’d started to develop for him in the bud. 

But then the front door banged open, and Feyre instantly disregarded every promise she’d made to herself and raced down the stairs, yelling like a banshee. 

She saw Rhysand standing in the doorway in his usual Johnny Cash uniform and didn’t hesitate before yelling, “You’re home!”

And throwing herself on him.

He dropped whatever he was holding and laughed as she wrapped herself around him like a koala. 

“Are you alright, love?”

She nodded against his neck. “I’m fine. Ignore me. I’ve just been so bored. This place is way too fucking quiet when you’re not here. I think I’m going insane.”

“I believe you.” 

“Asshole.”

He laughed, then did as she’d said and ignored her presence, crossing the living room to the kitchen. 

Rhys bent to look through the fridge, and she tightened her hold on him. 

“We have no food, also,” she told him helpfully. 

“I see that. If you put some pants on, we can go into the city for dinner.”

She laughed. Along with wearing his shirts, she’d taken to stealing a pair of boxers to sleep in. 

Feyre dropped to the floor, and he smirked down at her. “I was gone for five days, and that’s the greeting I got. Next time I’m staying away for six.”

She swung a hand and punched his shoulder, which probably hurt her more than him, and told him, “You’re so very funny, Rhysand. Please feed me.”

Her husband gave her a shooing motion. “You might want to put on something besides my boxers, then.”

She took his advice.

About an hour later, she sat in front of him, watching as he adamantly tried to avoid looking at her.

She’d chosen a dark green dress--unremarkable except for the low neckline and short skirt--black heels, and simple makeup.

“Are you alright, Rhysand? You look like you’re having a stroke.”

Those violet eyes slid to hers. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. I like that dress.”

“I can tell.”

He looked at the ceiling. “When we get home, I’m going to replace your entire wardrobe with burlap sacks.”

Feyre shrugged, then decided to take a chance. “You’d still stare at me.”

His eyes met hers, and when he spoke, it was practically a purr. “Am I supposed to deny, Feyre darling, how attractive I find you?” 

The waiter arrived before she had to respond. She made a mental note to leave him a huge tip.

As they ate their meal, she was overly aware of how many people stared at them. The whispers that surrounded them.

She was about to ask how he dealt with it when a chair was slid up next to her, a heavy-set man settling in. “Hello, Rhysand. I need to talk to you.”

The man was dressed in dark clothes, covered in tattoos, and had the promise of violence written across his every movement. He practically had the words drug dealer floating above his over-sized head. 

“Dante.” The warm look she’d come to recognize in her husband’s eyes was nowhere to be found. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Leave.”

“I promise you, it can’t,” the man said boldly, continuing to ignore her presence entirely. “A shipment’s gone missing.”

Feyre watched, stomach twisting, as Rhysand leaned forward and smiled cruelly. “Would you like to join it? I don’t discuss business in front of my wife.”

My wife. 

Despite the more than tense surroundings, Feyre felt a spark run through her at the words. 

“Then the bitch can leave. I need to talk to you.”

There was a slight pause, then everything changed so quickly she didn’t have time to process it. One minute she was watching the man’s face twist with impatience, the next there was a gun pressed against his ruddy forehead. 

A gun that practically looked like an extension of Rhysand’s arm.

Her husband was standing, entire body stiff with anger. The look on his face was inhuman. And promised a slow, slow death as he looked towards the man on the recieving end. 

“Refer to her as Feyre Asterra, or lose your fucking tongue.” 

The restaurant was dead quiet, everyone holding their breath and waiting to see what happened. No one dared move a muscle. 

Except Dante, who nodded stiffly. 

“Now apologize.”

The way he said it, the command in his voice... a thrill sparked through Feyre, and she bit her lip to keep the gasp in. 

What was wrong with her? Where fear should’ve taken root, there was raw, untapped excitement whirling inside her. Rhysand’s entire body was lined with power and dominance and rage, and it made her breath come quicker as she watched.

Dante looked at her, the hatred clear. “I’m sorry,” he spat, then looked back at Rhys.

Rhysand tilted his head, a king holding court. Another cruel smile. “Beg me.”

Something inside Feyre twisted at his words. 

Beg me.

The man’s jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, but he still said. “Please, Rhysand. I’ve worked for you for five years. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause, and she wouldn’t be surprised if someone passed out in anticipation. Then Rhys made a soft tsk sound. 

“You no longer work for me. You’re no longer welcome in this city. If I see you after tonight, I won’t be as forgiving.” 

The man opened his mouth to oppose, thought better of it, and sulked to the restaurant of the exit.

In that moment, Feyre knew why people called him the Son of Satan. Knew because, as calm as ever, he turned to their waiter and said, “Check, please.”

~ nsfw warning ~

Rhysand stood in front of the fireplace in their room, silent as the dead. 

He hadn’t said a single word on the way home, and she could tell whatever had happened at dinner had been the tip of the iceberg. Something had gone wrong. 

She replayed the meal over and over in her head, trying to figure it out, but only seemed to be able to remember one thing.

Beg me. 

Something had snapped inside her tonight, and she couldn’t keep herself still. Seeing him like that, seeing the power he had over people...

Slipping off the bed, Feyre walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

Her hands were spread on his taut stomach, but he gripped her wrists and took them off. When he spoke, his voice was rough and low. “I can’t do this right now. I’m not... I’m trying to keep my promise to you.”

Stay good with me. It felt like she’d said that a lifetime ago. 

Rhys turned around, drank whatever was in his glass, and looked down at her. There was violence and anger and animalistic rage in his gaze. 

It did little to calm the roar in her veins.

“Break your promise.”

A muscle in his jaw flickered, but he kept his hands to himself.

She wanted him so bad she could hardly stand. Her hands found their way to his chest, needing to touch him. “Please.”

Suddenly, she was pressed against the mantle near the fire, heat scorching up her leg. His glass fell to the floor as his hands pressed against her shoulders. 

He’d barely touched her, and she was breathing like she’d run a mile. 

A hand came to trace her bottom lip, then he was kissing her, and she finally let out a sigh.

The day of their wedding pictures, his kiss had been decadent and exploring. But that was when he was happy. 

When Rhys was pissed off, he kissed her in a raw, aggressive sort of way that made her lose her mind. A hand pulled her hair, making her tilt her head back, and he deepened the kiss. 

She’d just started to unbutton his shirt when he lifted her by the back of the thighs, then dropped them both to the floor and pinned her underneath him. 

Rhys braced himself over her trapping her arms above her head. She thought about the first time they’d been like this, and the look in his eye said he was doing the exact same thing. 

“I wanted you so bad that night,” he told her, voice rough.

She arched her back, chest pressed against his, and he gave her a wolf’s smile. 

“Did you want me, too?” he asked, lips and teeth on her collarbone. 

Feyre nodded. 

His mouth drifted down to her chest, and his teeth scraped her nipple through her dress. Rhys looked up at her, more monster than man in his eyes, and asked, “Were you wet for me, Feyre?”

Okay. Maybe it had been a mistake to encourage being together right now. 

Only one way to find out.

She nodded again, and his eyes went dark.

A hand remained pinning her wrists, the other drifting up her thigh. His fingers grazed the lace of her panties, then slipped inside. 

He ran a finger up her core, and she shifted beneath him. 

“Stay still,” he ordered, the command in his voice making her freeze. 

His finger slipped inside her, and he nudged the neck of her dress down to take a breast in his mouth. He made a humming sound in appreciation as he moved, then added another finger.

Feyre moaned, pushing uselessly against the grip on her hands. It was too much. He was too much. She wouldn’t survive this.

But she couldn’t force herself to stop. 

She’d been right. Now that she’d started, a shower of bullets wouldn’t make her leave this room.

His stubble scraped the valley between her breasts, and then they were kissing, a deep, wet slide of tongues and lips and teeth. He kissed her in time to the movement of his hand, and Feyre groaned into his mouth.

“I need more,” she panted onto his skin.

Rhysand’s teeth closed softly on her shoulder, and then he was looking down at her. His eyes were so dark they were like the nighttime sky, and then he said the words she didn’t know she’d been craving. 

“Beg me.”

She whimpered underneath him, shifting restlessly. 

A small, knowing smile was on his face, and she would’ve punched it off if she hadn’t been so attracted to it. 

“Please. Please.”

His hand was on her jaw, and he pressed a wet kiss to her lips. “Good girl.”

Lord help me.

He made quick work pulling her clothes off, then leaned back on his knees, surveying her head to toe. 

She repaid the favor. 

She didn’t know when his shirt had fallen open, but she sure as shit wasn’t complaining. 

His chest was covered in tattoos, the dark swirls running across his pecs and shoulders, all the way to his fingertips. The tattoos, the dangerous look in his eyes... Feyre lost a bit of her sanity as she leaned up to drag her mouth up his stomach.

Flicking open his belt, Rhys pushed her back down. Then his pants were pulled down, and he was spreading her thighs and settling in between them before she got a proper look. 

“Again.” He looked half crazed with anger and lust. 

She nipped at his bottom lip. “Please.”

He was pushed inside her, deep and slow and steady. He groaned in her ear, and the sound threatened what remained of her.

Then he gripped her hips, lifted slightly, and began to move. 

Holy gods.

Feyre didn’t know what language she was speaking in, but it wasn’t English. She was murmuring incoherent somethings, not able to string together proper thoughts.

She moved in rhythm with him as he picked up speed, and even though they were spread out on the ground, Feyre felt like a freaking queen. 

He was taking his time, listening and learning what she liked, and she could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge.

Soon she was so loud it was a miracle they didn’t have close neighbors. 

But as soon as she felt release start to come, he paused his movements. 

The sound that came out of Feyre’s mouth was close to a snarl. 

Rhysand smiled, gripping her chin. “Do you want to come, Feyre darling?”

If she wasn’t practically immobile, she’d strangle him. “You’re such an insufferable bastard, Rhysand Asterra. Yes.”

“And what do people say when they want something?”

She bit his lip in frustration, but said, “Please, you pri-”

His hips slammed into hers, a moan cutting her off as release crashed into her. Muscles twitching, face pinched in concentration, he followed her lead, collapsing on top of her. 

They laid there together, both breathing heavily, until she started losing air. He rolled off her and looked over her with male satisfaction.

There was still a little tension from earlier, but his usual brightness and light was back. It was impossible not to smile at the happiness coursing through her veins. 

Then he opened that smart mouth. “Let’s take a moment to remember when you said you could go two years without sleeping with me.”

“In my defense,” she panted back, “I hadn’t seen you in action before.”

He looked adorably shocked. “So threatening to shoot people is hot to you?”

“When it’s because of me, yeah.” She flicked his bicep, unable to help it. “I almost jumped you right then and there.”

He started kissing her neck, grinning against her skin. “I might have to hunt him down, then.”

She laughed, hands playing in his thick hair. Feyre pulled him back on top of her, a deliciously heavy dead weight. “I think I might have to update my pros and cons list.”

Rhysand laughed, and Feyre doubted a year of looking at that smile would be enough. 

Hell, a lifetime might not be enough. 

She didn’t let the thought linger. 

“Do you think there’s some innocent people around for you to threaten?”

A kiss to her temple. “I’ll hire someone if I have to.”

________________________________________________________________

Part 3

@a-bit-of-a-cactus @bamchickawowow @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @rapunzel1523 @negativenesta @burritowithfeels @exciting @sis-it-dont-add-up @mockingjayusa @aelin-is-my-heart @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @awesomelena555 @thekeytohappiness-is-you @keshavomit

[bidoldaccount]

Grow As We Go - loose ends

word count: 1,937

tying up loose ends :)

ONE ; TWO ; THREE ; FOUR ; FIVE

Read on AO3

Read on Wattpad

"Dad!" Dean flinched as Jack came sprinting into the garage, out of breath with red cheeks. Dean nearly knocked himself out on the hood of a vintage corvette he was rebuilding.

"Jack!" He attempted to match his enthusiasm but failed as he stood up straight, his back popping.

"Dad said we could go to the aquarium!" He said with a wide smile.

"I said we could go this weekend," Castiel corrected, appering behind Jack with a fond roll of his eyes.

"Why can't we go today?" Jack frowned, blinking up at Cas.

"Jack, you have visitation with your mom today," Castiel pointed out gently, laying his hand on the eleven year olds shoulder. Jack's face fell, he settled his eyes back on Dean with a frown.

"Do I have to go?" He asked.

"It's only for a few hours and Mrs. Talbot will be there the whole time," Dean said, dropping the rag in his hand so he could nudge Jack's chin.

"I'd rather stay home with you," Jack mumbled, turning back to Cas, wrapping his arms around him waist and burying his face in his stomach. Cas pressed his hands to Jack's back and rubbed it softly.

"We know buddy, but it'll be good for you to have a relationship with your mom," Cas said, catching Dean's eye roll and giving him a pointed look while Jack wasn't looking.

"She spends half of our visitation on her phone or talking about her real kids," Jack said.

"Jack, you are her real kid," Dean said.

"No," Jack pulled his face away from Cas' stomach and looked back at Dean. "I'm your kid," he looked up at Cas and repeated, "I'm your kid. I have two dads and no mom, and I like it that way," he said.

"I'm sorry, buddy," Cas smiled tightly, his eyebrows furrowed down with soft sympathy. "Why don't you talk to Mrs. Talbot about it, maybe she'll have some advice for you."

"Whatever," Jack pulled away and stomped back into the house. Castiel sighed heavil, taking the few steps towards Dean until he could wrap his arms around his husbands shoulders.

"I hate sending him to her," he whispered even though Jack had slammed the garage door.

"Me too," Dean shook his head, placing his hands on Castiel's hips, holding his husband close. "But we have no choice. Until our next court date when they let Jack tesifty, we just have to show that we're cooperating. Plus, she's missed three visits and Bela started supervising again because she kept him longer than she was allowed. It doesn't look good and Sam is really confident that they'll give us full custody," Dean said, rubbing his thumbs in comforting circles at Cas' hips.

"Sam's biased," Cas mumbled. "I'm just worried that they'll take the woeful mother bit," he said.

"Let's not think about it, okay? Come on, lets go take Jack out for breakfast before he has to go," Dean leaned in to kiss Castiel's lip, lingering for a few seconds before pulling away.

"Okay," Cas sighed, reeling in his emotions before they went inside.

They go to court two months later, on a rainy tuesday afternoon. Jack wears a button up that Castiel had ironed with trembling hands. Kayla shows up with her mother, who had actually been very adamant that she had no knowledge of Jack's existence and wanted to be present in his life. She was very reassuring from the beginning that she wouldn't dare fight them for custody because of what good parents they seem to be.

Kayla had smirked their way and they avoided her gaze at all costs. The judge allowed Jack to testify and the boy did so with a calm, even voice. He read from a piece of paper that he spent three weeks perfecting.

"When I was nine years old, I asked my dad, Castiel, why I didn't have a mother like some of my other friends had. He explained to me that when I was a baby, my mother was not ready to have a baby, so she gave me to my dad, Dean. He told me that it wasn't my fault that I didn't have a mother, and it wasn't her fault either, it was just the way life worked out sometimes. When my mother, Kayla, came back, a part of me was excited, because if like happened the way it does for a reason, then maybe I would be lucky enough to have two dads plus a mom. I never thought that I would be sitting here, fighting to stay with my parents. That is what they are. Dean and cas are my dads, that's what they have always been. Kayla has never been my mom, and she hasn't acted like one up to this point. She speaks poorly of my dads, even though I've told her that it makes me upset, she makes homophobic remarks, she took me to a mans house that she claimed was her boyfriend and I sat in a stuffy living room for two hours while she spent time in the bedroom with him," Castiel had to squeeze Dean's hand hand so he wouldn't be tempted to jump out of his seat. Deans jaw nearly popped with how hard he pressed his teeth together.

"I sent picture to my caseworker, Mrs. Talbot," Jack smiled proudly as Bela passed around the evidence. Kaylas eyes had widened and her attorney had objected. Cas stared wide eyed as their attorney assured Kaylas that the new evidence was submitted well before court started. Dean smiled proudly at Jack, and the boy beamed.

"I'd like to say one more thing if I may?" Jack asked the judge, the man gesturing for him to continue, his face was steel but his eyes were soft. Jack smiled at him, then looked towards his parents. "For what it's worth, you'll never meet better parents than my dads. I could list a hundred things that makes them amazing parents, but all I really have to say, is I have never once questioned their love for me. I might be young, but I know what love, and support, and stability means, because I have really good dads. I won't get that with Kayla, and I'd much rather stay in my loving home. Thank you," Jack nodded his head once and threw a questioning look at Bela. She nodded for him to get off of the stand and he did so quickly. He ran across the courtroom and threw his arms around both Dean and Cas' shoulders. They hugged him back tightly, both of them trying to hold back tears.

When the judge awarded them full custody, they cried. They cried right there in the middle of the court room until their attorney guided them out. Sam and his wife, Eileen, and kaylas mother, Judy, met them outside of the courtroom and they took turns hugging Jack.

-

"Dad, look!" Jack held up a new pair of drumsticks, and Dean looked at Sam with a sarcastically wide smile.

"Jee, Sam, how nice of you," he said through gritted teeth. Sam smiled innocently, then pretended like someone called him. Dean rolled his eyes and looked back to Jack as he opened another Christmas present. He couldn't lie, the sixteen year old was surprisingly good at the drums, Dean likes to take credit for it because of all the classic rock he played when Jack was a kid.

"Daddy, look what grandma Judy bought for me!" Dean looked down at Claire, five years old with the biggest smile on her face as she stood beside a giant box that contained a Princess vanity.

"Oh my, Judy!" Dean looked up at the woman with wide eyes.

"Hush, they're my grandkids, you got to let me spoil them," she said as she passed him. He smiled fondly, watching her plop herself onto the recliner that she always occupies when she visits. One of Dean's favorite outcome from Kayla popping up five year old, is Judy. Once the woman found out about Jack, she'd been a prominent figure in his life. Then they adopted Claire, at two years old after her parents died in a plane crash, and she treated Claire as if she were her blood.

Dean left Judy and the kids in the living room once all of the presents were opened, and he stopped Cas from leaving the kitchen when he tried to pass Dean. Cas gave him a questioning look, but Dean hushed him and guided him into the garage.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked with a small laugh.

"I have one more present for you, but I wanted to give it to you in private, mostly because it's really fucking cheesy," he explained as he walked to his toolbox. He pulled out a square shaped present, wrapped in newspaper because Dean is simple like that. He handed it to cas with red cheeks and stood back with his arms crossed as Cas eyed it. He had a soft smile on his face as he unwrapped it and his cautious smile turned to soft awe as the newspaper fell.

"It's stupid and cheesy but I thought you'd like it," Dean shrugged as Cas started flipping through the photo album Dean put together. It went in order of the years. The first few pages were in their shitty one bedroom apartment, early years of their first dates, the first night Castiel stayed over, and Cas' pride week outfits. Then Jack appeared, laying on Castiel's chest fast asleep, cas smiling wide as his hands hovered over where Jack was taking his first steps, first days of school, arts and crafts gone wrong when everything got covered in glitter, the first time Sam met Jack. Then it was middle childhood, soccer games and school plays, their wedding, in front of the courthouse when they won full custody. Then high school, the first time they took Jack to Pride, that time Cas broke his leg and they mistakingly gave him a bell to ring when he needed them, adopting Claire. Family trips, small moments, days spent at the park, random little things that made their life so worth living, they were all interspersed in there. Some of the notes that Dean kept from the lunches Castiel packed him, pictures the kids drew, notes Dean left for Cas on days he woke up first, copies of their wedding vows. They were all in there. Cas was crying when he finally finished flipping through, and he couldn't speak, so he threw his arms around deans shoulders and cried softly into his husbands neck.

"I take it you hate it?" Dean teased, even though his heart has never felt lighter.

"I love it, you asshole," Cas said, voice shaky. Dean chuckled, wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist, holding him tightly. "I love it so much, and I love you," cas pulled his head back so he could press his lips to Dean's, kissing him hard and passionately.

"I love you too, Cas," Dean whispered between breathless kisses. Castiel sniffled as he pulled away, holding the photo album tightly against his chest.

"Let's go inside, I can feel Claire bargaining with Judy for another slice of pie," Castiel laughed softly to cover up how much he wanted to cry out of pure joy.

"Just let me kiss you for a little longer," Dean said, holding his hips close. Cas smiled, settling into Dean's arms and allowing himself to stand there, in the garage that Dean built, with their family safe and happy inside, and kiss his husband.

[pixiegrl]

Also I would really love to read "I won't make it home for Christmas" with Lashton please and thank you, love you 💜

Amanda! Darling Amanda! I originally had another idea and then we were talking about soulmate AUs and this uh. Turned into that. I hope you enjoy it! For the holidays!

on ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205598

I won’t make it home for Christmas. The line has been tattooed onto Luke’s hip since his 13th birthday when he got his soulmark. He’d been giddy when he’d first gotten it, excited to have something so unique as the first thing his soulmate will say to him. The older he’s gotten, though, the less the tattoo has made sense. After all, why would that be the first thing his one true love would say to him? How can you tell someone you won’t spend Christmas with them as the first thing you’re supposed to say?

No matter how much Luke wants to find his soulmate, wants to meet this person, he’s pushed it aside and gotten on with his life. It was Ben who first suggested he become a flight attendant. Luke was  antsy to get out of Australia, to get out in the world and explore, and to find the person he’s destined to be with. He jumped at the chance, finishing the university classes he needed to quickly and then immediately applying to the airline. It wasn’t long until he was going through training. It’s where he met Michael; sarcastic, funny, sharp Michael, who’s good at putting on his customer service face for people and making sharp remarks to Luke while they prepare drinks. They make a good team, if only because Luke laughs at Michael’s comments and Michael had talked Luke down from his panic attacks on their first few flights together. Luke would venture to call Michael his best friend, if Michael wouldn’t make fun of him immediately for it.

It’s how they’d met Calum, Michael’s soulmate. He’d been the co-pilot on one of their early flights. Michael had crashed into Calum in the middle of the cockpit, covering him in coffee and uttering Oh fuck don’t get me fired, and Calum had frozen for a moment before bursting into laughter. He peeled back his sleeve to reveal the same sentence on his forearm, saying “This isn’t how I expected to meet; that’s for sure.” Michael then ripped his shirt open in the middle of the cockpit area, showing off the mark on his rib cage with those same words, laughing wildly in the face of Luke and the other flight attendants telling him to put his shirt back on before someone complained to the airline. 

Luke likes Michael and Calum, enjoys spending his time with the two of them even though it's frustrating to watch them kiss and stare at each other all starry-eyed, sappy and in love. Luke’s lucky that he doesn’t live with Michael anymore, happy to have some time away from the two.

The other downside of Luke’s soulmark is that he’s heard some variation of it over the years. He’s been a flight attendant for close to four years now, and he’d have trouble counting the amount of times someone has said something in relation to not being home for holidays or Christmas. Luke’s almost desensitized to the words now, unphased by it all. He’s never felt the connection or spark behind it that everyone else claims to feel when they meet their soulmates. So Luke is here, waiting on flight after flight, airport after airport, for his soulmate to appear. 

Luke is positively miserable today, though. It’s Christmas Eve and he’s supposed to be getting on a flight from Boston to California and then to Sydney. Supposed to being the key word. He’s currently stuck in the Boston airport, his just one of many delayed flights piling up on the back of a snowstorm rolling in. Luke’s been hiding in the back corner of the airport, texting Michael and Calum, jealous they get the holiday off. They’ve been sending him photos of their Christmas cards, where they’re grinning in matching ugly sweaters and reindeer antlers. It’s cheesy and sappy and Luke has never been so jealous of soulmates before. 

Luke’s airplane sends out an announcement that the flight will be delayed until tomorrow morning and advises everyone to find somewhere to spend the night. Luke hears the grumbles of the other passengers, rolling his eyes at how clueless people can be. Did they really think they’d be able to leave tonight, between the other flight delays and the snow? Luke shares a look with one of the other attendants across the way, shaking heads and equal looks of misery at the idea of finding a place to spend the night. Luke’s waiting for the okay from his boss before he tries to find a place to spend the night. Luke is desperate to get out of here, to find some food and to find a hotel room to shower and sleep in. 

He’s scrolling through his phone, looking at photos from his family, and debating when he can get up to go find somewhere to spend the night or if any of the other attendants need a roommate when someone collapses into the seat next to him. Luke glances to the side, catching sight of brown curls, nice biceps, and a strong jawline. If Luke wasn’t exhausted and wasn't going to have to fight people to get a room in a hotel on Christmas Eve, he might try to flirt with the guy. 

“I won’t make it home for Christmas,” the guy says. Luke hums, half listening.

 “The first time in years I’ve had the holiday off and I’m stuck here, in a crowded airport. Not even sure I’ll be able to find a hotel at this point,” the guy says, glancing at Luke while he huffs a bit and rolls his eyes. He’s fiddling with his phone, leg bouncing. Luke hums, glancing down at his own phone, snorting at the picture Michael’s sent of him and Calum in their matching tacky Christmas sweaters, reindeer antlers and all. 

“I’m sure there’s a hotel left somewhere; the snow’s only just gotten bad,” Luke says, nonchalantly, defaulting to his generic answer he always gives passengers when they complain to him.

“What did you say?” The guy sounds a little breathless, shocked. Luke sighs, putting on his customer service smile and turning to look at the guy. The smile slips from Luke’s face though when he makes eye contact with him. It feels like he's letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a tightness in his chest relieving itself. The world slides itself into place and Luke gets it. It’s stupid and cliche, but he gets it now. The feeling everyone has described to him over and over again, of coming home, of peace. Luke gets it now, staring at the man next to him.

“Oh,” Luke whispers, taking him in, curled brown hair and bright hazel eyes, a slow smile forming on his face. Luke can’t help a similar smile from forming on his lips, dimples creasing his cheeks. 

The guy grins even wider, pulling the sleeve of his jacket up so Luke can see the sentence painted across the back of his forearm, flowing cursive and Luke’s words. Luke reaches out, unable to stop himself, and traces the words, sucking in a breath at the electric feeling that flows through him at the contact with his soulmate. 

“Who knew I’d have to go to an airport in Boston to meet my soulmate?” He says, laughing. Luke realizes he has an Aussie accent too, and he laughs breathlessly because really, what are the odds. What are the odds he’d go halfway across the world just to meet his soulmate by accident in a shitty, cold airport, stuck here during the holidays until the snow stops. Although, Luke guesses, fate probably had a hand in this. 

“Australia is a large country,” Luke says, pulling his hand back, blushing. 

“It seems fate has decided we should meet here instead. Ashton,” He says, holding his hand out. Luke blushes again, shaking Ashton’s hand, finding it incredibly silly to be shaking his soulmate’s hand in an airport waiting area. Ashton snorts, lacing his fingers in Luke’s so they’re holding hands. Luke blushes even harder. He’s usually much smoother than this, he’s being ridiculous.

“Luke. I would show you my tattoo but it’s on my hip,” Luke says, gesturing vaguely in that area. Ashton smiles, tongue poking out a little. Luke’s immediately charmed by him.

“So I can tell what brings you to an airport on December 24th. Uniform stole my one-liner,” Ashton says, gesturing to Luke’s dress pants and shirt, the little name tag pin he’s wearing. Luke blushes.

“You have one liners prepared for picking people up in airports?”

“Always gotta be prepared. Never know where you might be a handsome stranger destined to be your true love.”

Luke rolls his eyes, “Well, what brings you to an airport on Christmas Eve? Since you mentioned wanting to get home.”

“I’m a session musician. We were finishing up recording and I was so sure I would be able to make it back home in time for Christmas. My sister’s gonna kill me.”

“Well, tell her you met your soulmate. She can’t be too mad about that.”

Ashton snorts, rubbing his thumb along the back of Luke’s hand. Luke stares at Ashton’s face, trying to memorize as much of it as he can. He wants to remember every detail to tell his family later, to describe the scene to Michael and Calum, to write into his wedding speech when he tells everyone about this moment.

“I bet you hear people complaining about not being able to make it home all the time. You know, being a flight attendant and all,” Ashton says. Luke smiles. 

“Nothing quite as on the nose as you, though. Not from anyone as pretty as you,” Luke says, leaning over to brush a stray curl out of Ashton’s eyes and tuck it behind his ear. Ashton blushes, red dusting his nose and cheeks. It’s charming, Luke decides. Ashton is charming and cute and everything he’s ever wanted in a soulmate. 

“Want to go get dinner? See if we can get a hotel room? Maybe between your uniform and my pleading, we can beg for a room somewhere,” Ashton asks. 

Luke laughs, standing up and cracking his back, “I think we could manage that. Somewhere has to still be open at 6:00pm on Christmas Eve.” 

Ashton grins widely, jumping up and slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. Luke smiles, pulling his jacket on and grabbing the handle of his rolling suitcase. Ashton grabs Luke’s hand, lacing their fingers together and grinning widely at Luke when he makes eye contact with him. Luke smiles shyly, cheeks pink, and curls falling in his eyes as he ducks his head. 

They venture out into the cold of Boston, grabbing the first bus and taking it into downtown. 

“What instrument do you play?” Luke asks, picking at some invisible lint on his pant leg. 

“Drums. Sometimes I play guitar or sing, but my main love is drums. Well, my other love I guess,” Ashton says. Luke rolls his eyes, huffing fondly at Ashton. Ashton laughs, head tipped back slightly. Luke is charmed immensely by Ashton already. God, now he gets why Michael and Calum are so unbearable to be around. 

“Do you live in Australia?” Ashton asks once his laughter has died down. 

“Sort of. When I’m home I stay with my parents since they’re not too far. I officially own a place in LA. It’s my base airport and it’s easier to have a place there during my off times. Do you?” 

“Yeah. I bounce between LA and New York most of the time being a musician. Boston was an accident. I was in London for the last month and was grabbing a connecting flight from there back to Australia for the season.”

“Maybe fate did want us to meet.”

“Could have done that without a snowstorm and flight delay.”

“Well, I wouldn't have met you without the delay,” Luke points out. Ashton shrugs. They fall into comfortable conversation, talking about their families, Michael and Calum, Ashton’s friends that he records with, their lives. It’s interesting, meeting someone who’s the other half of your soul. Luke feels like he’s known Ashton for years, comfortable and happy with him, but still like he’s learning Ashton. They haven’t let go of each other’s hands, fingers interlocked and resting in Luke’s lap while they talk, Ashton rubbing his thumb across the back of Luke’s hand.

They get off the bus when they make it to the city. Ashton pauses, taking a deep breath and turning to look at Luke.

“Do you wanna find a hotel and get room service? I doubt anywhere is open now,” Ashton says. Luke figures he’s probably right and nods. Ashton hums, pulling in the direction of where Luke can see a hotel in the distance. 

They make it half a block before Ashton freezes, turning to look wide eyed at Luke, “Oh, I just assumed you’d want to share a room together. You don’t have to of course. I completely understand.”

Luke rolls his eyes, “Ashton, you’re my soulmate. Of course I wanna spend the night with you. I like talking to you.”

Ashton deflates, smiling, “Good. I just didn’t want to force you.”

“You’re not forcing me, silly. I’m happy to be with you,” Luke says. Ashton smiles, tugging Luke in, pressing a kiss to his lips. Luke startles before relaxing slightly, easing into the kiss and tilting his head slightly, letting Ashton pull him close, gripping his hips, brushing his thumb over where Luke knows his soulmark sits, curved letters and all. 

“Since I’m already delayed for the holidays, maybe I can delay myself in LA. Since we’re going the same way,” Ashton whispers onto Luke’s lips when he pulls back. Luke grins.

“Are you asking to move in with me on the first date Ashton? How very forward of you.”

“Well, we’re meant for each other. Might as well skip a couple steps if it gets us there faster.”

Luke laughs, snorting slightly and burying his face into Ashton’s neck, “How about we settle on dinner and a hot shower first? See where it takes us.”

Ashton hums, “Only if I can see your soulmark.”

“Well, obviously. Only fair if you get to see mine since you showed me yours.”

“I look forward to it,” Ashton says, grinning, as he presses another kiss to Luke’s lips, taking a step back and pulling them both in the direction of the hotel. Maybe delayed flights on Christmas aren’t so bad. Not if they can lead Luke to his soulmate.

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun

ii.xxiii. (m)

"Miga, you look so beautiful." You put your hands on her cheeks and look proudly at your daughter. Miga was the flower girl at Johnny's and Johanna's wedding. She was wearing a pink tulle dress that had a large bow around her waist that closed with a stitch on her back. Johanna had a florist who made a flower crown for Miga that matched the flowers in her basket. Her hair was open and you made her curls. You take a picture of her to capture this wonderful moment. "I should never have agreed to marry pregnantly. I'm so fat." Johanna came to you and sighed. She was beautiful, but her stomach restricted her movements. "You look great and you have wonderful pregnancy photos then." You smile and get up. Johanna smiled too, but overall she seemed very nervous. You explain to Miga again what she should do and go to the other guests. The wedding took place outside in the forest and Jaehyun was Johnny's best man. You take Sunoh from Jaehyun so that he can stand with Johnny in the front and you sit down to Yuta. He was back from Osaka again with Chichi. "Ohhh look Yuta, Sunoh and Chichi would be such a beautiful couple." You put the two babies together and take a lot of pictures of the two babies. "Stop couple my daughter now." Yuta looked at you in panic and you had to laugh. "How are you Yuta? Have you settled in?" You haven't heard from him since he lived with you. "Yes, I've got used to it by now. I also tried to make contact with Shiori, but she disappeared." He took his daughter to him again and you sit down on your seats. "I am really sorry." You sigh and sit down as well. Yuta looked a little sad, but then his little daughter smiled at him and suddenly a feeling of benevolence spread across Yuta's face. That was the magic thing about babies. Even when you're down, they give you a special feeling and you know what you're living for again. The next moment the music started. Johnny looked nervously at the other side but couldn't see anything yet. Jaehyun patted his shoulder reassuringly. First came the maid of honor from Johanna, who was an old school friend of hers. And when Jaehyun's eyes widened afterward and before the bride came, you know that Miga walked down the aisle. You turn back to look at her. She was so beautiful with her tulle dress, her flower crown, her long dark hair and her little basket in which the petals she strew. You were so touched at that moment and you realized how big your daughter had grown. You look at Jaehyun and you can see how he was also touched. His eyes were fixed on his daughter and you knew that he thought the same as you. When Miga was in front, she went straight to her father, who kissed her on the forehead and then sent her to you. "You have done a great job." You help Miga on the chair and proudly stroke her back. And then Johanna came. Her belly was covered with a large bouquet of flowers and she was simply beautiful. You see how Johnny pressed his lips together and struggled with his emotions. When the two stood in front, they held their hands and smiled in love. It was the most beautiful thing you had seen in a long time. The whole wedding was perfect. The forest, the nature, the love that was in the air. You were never the person who dreamed of a big wedding, but this made you fantasize a bit. Maybe if you and Jaehyun wanted to renew your vow, you would want to do something like that. "And I declare you as husband and wife. You can kiss the bride now." When these words were said, Johnny pulled his newlywed wife over to him and closed their promise with a kiss. Everyone stood up and cheered. Everything was so romantic and beautiful and you look at Jaehyun who stared at you. You see how he shaped "I love you" with his lips and you lean your head against Sunoh's and stare at your husband too.

The celebration took place in a small hotel that matched the whole forest atmosphere. There was plenty to eat and everyone celebrated Johnny's new marriage. "The wedding was beautiful." You sigh and feed Sunoh with baby porridge when you are done eating. "Do you sometimes regret that we got married quickly and secretly?" Jaehyun looked at you questioningly. But you shake your head. "No, our wedding was so intimate, I couldn't imagine anything more romantic." You smile and wipe Sunoh's mouth clean. Miga found another child in the meantime that was about her age and played hide and seek with him. She quickly ran past you and grinned broadly. "Miga is already so big. I can't believe that she is no longer a baby." Jaehyun sighed and looked after his daughter. "I know seeing her there today made me realize that our children are getting older. Sunoh is already so big and starts talking." You stroke your son's head and wonder how long he'll be your little baby. At some point, he will be the size of Miga and that broke your heart. "We absolutely need a new baby." Jaehyun laughed and put his arm around you. You look up at him and grin. "It sounds like we can just buy a new child." You shake your head and he put his hand on your cheek and kissed you. After everyone had eaten, it was time for a speech. Jaehyun had long considered what to say. It was not easy for him to find the right words. You talked a lot about it and Jaehyun just decided to say what he thought. "Wow, I don't even know where to start. You've been like a brother to me for so long. We were all a family that lived in a chaotic dorm. And for a time, I thought it would always be like this. And now look at us, we move on and live our own lives with our new families. And sometimes that can be scary, the world is no longer about you and you suddenly live for someone else. That sounds creepy, but it's the most beautiful that I could and you will ever experience. And since you are my family too, I can’t wait for you to take this step. A new chapter has begun. You’ve got a wonderful wife, in a little over a month you’ll be expecting your daughter and no matter what will happen, I'll be here. Johnny, Johanna, I wish you the best. Congratulations." You could see Johnny struggling with his feelings. Apparently, the words affected him, and he hugged his friend. Then he picked up the microphone and made a speech. "I just wanted to say that I am thankful that you are all here. I can think of nothing better than sharing this day with my friends and family." When Johnny spoke in front of all the people, Miga suddenly came to him and pulled on his pants. "Can we eat the cake now?" Your little daughter had simply interrupted Johnny's speech just to be able to eat cake. Everyone laughed because she was so cute, but it was a little uncomfortable and Jaehyun quickly ran to her and lifted her up. After the speech was over, the wedding cake was cut, champagne was drunk and it was the first time in a long period that you were drinking alcohol again. In the course of the evening, it became more and more and you no longer realize how little you can tolerate. At a certain point, you were pretty drunk. Miga was now playing with Taeil and Mark borrowed Sunoh to play with Haechan, who had Chichi, with the two babies like they were action figures. But the babies have a lot of fun with it. You are sitting at the table, clearly drunk and looking at your husband. Fuck, he looked so good. In his suit, his hair back. At that moment you just wanted his dick. All your mind is only around his cock and you decide to get up and go to him. "Where do you want to go?" Jaehyun didn't quite understand where you were dragging him. You don't say anything but just look for the right place. Everything was turning inside of you, but you wanted Jaehyun now. You pull him in the closet and start kissing his neck. You unbutton the first buttons of his shirt and move on with your kisses. "Wait where are the kids?" Jaehyun tried to gasp for breath, but you use every breath he takes. "The kids are fine, Daddy. Now let Mummy take care of you." You get on your knees and open his belt buckle and pants. "Shit, I forgot how naughty you get when you're drunk." Before you had the children, it often happened that you drank something and then you were a little more adventurous. Jaehyun loved it and it drove him insane. You ignore what he said and stroke and massage his length. After all these years - no matter what your condition was - you knew how to handle him that he quickly became hard. He groaned softly while you started to play with the waistband of his Calvin with your other hand until you drag him down so far that his excited member jumped towards you. His tip was just before your lips and you look up at him. You smile and open your mouth. "Oh god, what are you doing to me?!" Jaehyun strokes your hair. You then kiss his tip very gently and see how his eyes turn inwards. Once again, you put his glans completely in your mouth and it was the last time that you were slow. When you take his length completely, you support the pressure with your hands. Jaehyun's breath grew louder and he pulled his shirt up a little to see everything better. His upper body pulled inward and bulged outward again, keeping with the rhythm of his breathing. He put his right hand on the back of your head and support your movement. "Shit." He cursed with lust and when you stuck his cock deep into your throat so that you almost started to choke, he knew that despite the few minutes he was about to cum. You knew Jaehyun's body so well that you knew when he was about to fire his load. His inner thigh muscle started to twitch and his stomach bulged deep inside. So you knew when the time had come and he was there now. You push his cock back out of your throat and put his tip over your tongue. You massage him with a firm grip until you hear his loud groan. "Oh god ... oh god ... shiiittt ..." His cum splashes all over your tongue and you let it stretch out for a while so that he could look at his load. He took your chin in his hand and smiled. You close your mouth and swallow his cum. "Wow, I have no words." Exhausted, Jaehyun leans against the wall and gets dressed again. You got up again and straightened your dress. "Thank god you have a long dress, otherwise everyone would see your red knees." He winked and looked at you. You started giggling and your cheeks started to glow. And then came the absolute sign that you were drunk; You got hiccups. "Y/N how much did you drink???" Jaehyun hugged you and you snuggled into his shoulder. "1,2 or 4 glasses of champagne." You babble a little and keep giggling. You put your arms around his neck and look happily at your husband. "You are sooo beautiful." You kiss him on the cheek. "You really can't handle alcohol anymore." Jaehyun laughed and you go back to the others together.

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[ablogcalledrevenge]

Do Androids Enjoy Paris? (An Ash x Reader Insert Fic, Rated T)

It’s decades later when you find him. He’s in surprisingly good shape for being almost 50 years old. When you run a diagnostics check on him days later, you’re almost touched to see how well he was taken care of. Yearly upgrades and tune-ups, expanded memory chip, barely any wear or tear on the joints or internal wiring. He could be a museum piece, he was so well kept. And now he was yours.

So what does one do when they’re suddenly gifted with an android copy of an unknown dead man?

Take him to see the world.

When you bought the house from Kate’s mom, you didn’t really understand what the Ash Clause referred to. According to the contract, you just had to maintain the Ash model for the length of ownership. When you asked your friend what Ash was, she chuckled and shook her head.

“Oh wow, I haven’t thought about him in years. He’s like this weird robot my grandma had. I think I saw him once. He was kind of like a memory bank, I think he would do some cleaning.” She said and you shrugged. You could take care of a sentient vacuum.

But when you finally get to the little house, you don’t see any robot. You find a vacuum, covered in dust, but very little else. It isn’t until your third night that you meet Ash.

You’re in bed, trying to fall asleep. You’re not used to the countryside and you had been staring at your phone right before trying to sleep, which you know is bad. You’re in that hazy almost dreaming phase when you hear a thud from above. You freeze in your bed, suddenly terrified that a monster is going to come crashing through the roof and eat you.

Instead, you hear the sound of a chair being pushed across the floor above you. There’s nothing above you but the roof, you’re on the second floor. The house is just two floors and an attic. Your stomach drops and you let out a shaky breath. There’s someone in the attic.

Grabbing your phone and a frying pan from the kitchen, you carefully pull down the steps to the attic. All the noise stops and you preemptively dial 999 in case there’s a murderer up there and you need to call the police. Your finger hovers over the button as light floods down over you.

The attic is small but decorated with furniture. There’s a plush rug under your toes and a nice coffee table with soft squishy looking chairs around it. There’s a computer plugged in and a rack of clothes. Does someone live up here? Did Kate forget to tell you about a renter?

You hear a throat clear and you whirl around, holding your frying pan out like a weapon. The person you see isn’t scary, he isn’t holding a gun or anything, but you still scream in surprise.

“No please, don’t scream. I’m not dangerous I promise!” He assures you, stepping forward as you leap back. You fall into one of the armchairs and it knocks the breath out of you.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m Ash. Didn’t Kate or Indira tell you about me? I know you bought the house.” He says, kneeling in front of you to perhaps seem less threatening. It worked a little and you slowly felt your heart return to a normal rhythm.

“They just told me I had to maintain an Ash model. I was expecting a cleaning robot, not a person!” You shoot back, once you find your voice. You haven’t lowered your frying pan. At that, Ash ducks his head bashfully. He doesn’t flush or turn red though, like a person would. He also hasn’t blinked since you noticed him.

“That’s me. I’m the Ash model. I’m an android technically though. This is where I stay.” He says with a note of resigned acceptance, sweeping his arm out over his humble abode. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why are you up here? Why do I have to take care of you? You look kind of familiar, have we met before?” You ask, ignoring his identity for a moment, as he sits down on the couch across from you. Despite it being 2 in the morning, he dressed like he’s going to work. He’s wearing dark slacks with a blue button down shirt; he’s even got shoes on!

“It’s a bit of a long story.” Ash says and he explains it all to you. As the time passes, you listen as Ash reveals family secret after family secret. You find yourself staring at the pulled skin of Ash’s knuckles or the way the light shines across his multi-shaded hair. He’s a feat of engineering, that was for sure. Androids weren’t super rare in society, though they were uncommon. Androids took the place of people when it involved inhospitable environments or testing reactions to new drugs. Androids couldn’t feel pain but they could mimic the human body’s reaction. They were essential in the field of science and medicine. Which made it all the stranger that Kate’s grandma just had one.

It’s a sad story to be sure. Losing a loved one is never easy and grief can make people do crazy things. Now you know why Ash’s face looks vaguely familiar to you. You’ve seen his face in an old wedding photo of Kate’s grandparents. But then the passage of time actually sinks in. Kate, like you, is in her late 20s. Martha was her grandma! Ash has been up here for decades, sitting alone and getting sent to a facility once a year for upgrades. Martha’s been dead for 5 years now and the house has been empty. Kate mentioned that she hadn’t seen Ash since she was a little kid. 

“So you’ve just been alone for all this time? Hasn’t anyone visited you?” You ask, incredulously. Mrs. Portman was his daughter! Well, sort of, not really.

“Yes. Indira comes to visit sometimes, usually when I have to get upgraded. We talk and she has tea and it’s very nice. But other than that, no. She stopped seeing me on weekends when she left for school. I assumed she was busy living her own life. After that Martha stopped coming up as well. I think it bothered her that she was aging and I wasn’t. I never minded though, I don’t care about that sort of thing. Do you want tea?” The change of subject does little to distract you. All you can think of is the clause in your lease contract. 

“You realize that I own the house now, I bought it from Mrs. Portman. You were part of the contract I signed. I’m supposed to take care of you. I own you. Doesn’t that bother you? You’re being passed down like a family heirloom!” You point out, shaking your head as Ash offers you tea. You don’t think he can drink it and it seems rude to use up his supply. 

“Why should it? Martha wanted to take care of me. I have a nice life up here. I have the internet and I get to see people sometimes. There’s not much I need.” He says simply and your heart breaks for him. 

“But Martha’s dead! She’s dead and you’re still here! Don’t you see how cruel that is? She’s allowed to die and be at peace and, depending on your belief system, finally be with her Ash. But instead of shutting you down, she’s kept you running. There’s no reason. It’s not like Mrs. Portman has really interacted with you in years. So why are you still running? Don’t you deserve some peace?”

Ash pauses and looks at you. It’s strange, but he seems almost sad. AI technology has come a long way, but his ability to mimic sadness is honestly amazing.

“Martha’s dead?” His voice sounds hollow and you get up and join him on the couch. 

“Yes, she died five years ago. You weren’t told?” You reach over and grab his hand. It’s cool to the touch but very soft. It feels like skin, though you know it’s synthetic. He feels human.

“No, I wasn’t told. I always assumed that when she died, I’d either go live with Indira or I’d be shut down. I didn’t think she’d keep me running with no purpose.” He sighs and his chest doesn’t move.

“Maybe she couldn’t bear the thought of you dying. Maybe she thought Indira would want you in her life. I don’t know. But what I do know is that we’re here and we’re together now. I signed that contract and I’m going to take care of you. But you get to decide what that means. If you want to stay up here and be left alone, I can do that. But if you want to be shut down, I understand and I can do that too.” You promise and he looks at you. His eyes are beautiful and wet, hazy blue and light green mixed together and piercing into your soul. You’re in awe of how his eyes bore into you.

“I don’t know what I want. I’ve been up here so long. I was only made for a few things. I don’t have wants or needs besides basic maintenance.” He says shakily.

“Well, now’s the time to figure it out.” You whisper in the quiet of the attic. The smile he gives you is blinding in it’s sincerity and joy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You go to Paris first, walking along the Seine in the summer. You show Ash all the artwork he’s only ever seen through a screen, watch him embrace the human condition as he marvels at a Monet and shakes his head at a Picasso. He doesn’t tan like you do but after giving a little boy back his ball by the Carrousel du Louvre, he has a riot of freckles across his shoulders that match the toddler’s. 

He does that a lot; change his appearance as he meets people. He has a mole on his clavicle that disappears occasionally. He can’t seem to decide if he wants it or not. You don’t care either way, you tell him he’s beautiful at least once an hour. He responds back in kind and while someone else would take that as a lie; he’s an android so what could he know about human beauty, you beam at the words. You figure he’s probably objective so the small words are taken as the compliment they’re intended to be.

The only weird parts are when you need to eat and sleep. It’s strange at first to go to a cafe and eat in front of him. He always tastes things but he never swallows, politely spitting it out in his napkin. He doesn’t have taste buds, he can’t enjoy the bouquet of flavors you bring to his lips every breakfast, lunch, or dinner; but despite that he always asks to try. You can see how desperately he wants to be human so you humor him and let him try your crepes.

He doesn’t sleep, though he will lay down in bed with you. He makes no sounds and only mimics breathing to keep you from feeling uncomfortable. Eventually you ask him to stop. You’ve always hated noise when you’re trying to sleep and it’s nice to be held by something that doesn’t snore in your ear or drool on you.

“I can if you want me to.” Ash teases one morning and you throw a pillow at him. His laugh sounds like triumph.

You’re walking along the Pont des Arts, Notre Dame in the distance and vanilla ice cream in your hand.  The stroll is leisurely and even, Ash swinging your hands as you tread across the wooden boards. You’re going to Italy next and then maybe Spain. He’s decided he wants to see the world and you’re only too happy to show him.

He stops and rests his arm on the railing, the wind ruffling his hair back. You lay your head on his shoulder which is warm through his linen shirt.

“Would you want to have sex?” He asks suddenly and you almost drop your ice cream in the river. You pull back to look at him, your face pink.

“I just know that when couples travel together they usually have sex. I can have sex, I have the equipment for it. I’ve done it before.” He says and his tone is so casual and even. In perhaps an ironic twist, you’re the one who feels like they’re short circuiting. You eat some ice cream while you try to come up with an answer.

“Ash, I think you’re so handsome and I love the time we spend together. I enjoy sleeping next to you in bed and holding your hand. But sex isn’t the same as that. Kissing isn’t the same as that. I would love to kiss you and have sex and make this relationship more physical but I want that for the right reasons. I want to have sex with you because you want to, not because you think we should. Not because studies show couples have sex on holiday or because you did it before.” You counter, squeezing his hands.

“It’s hard for me to want things. I don’t think the way you do.” He reminds you. You give him a soft smile and step back to throw away your ice cream. Your hand is cold against his cheek but he doesn’t react. Not the way a human would.

“I know Ash and that’s okay. I don’t mind if our relationship never turns physical, if it doesn’t look like other relationships. I enjoy spending time with you and I care about you. It’s okay to not want something.” You assure him but instead of looking relieved, he looks angry.

“But I should! I want to want things the way you do, the way normal people do! I watch everyone go through life, experiencing the world and they feel things. I don’t feel things and it’s not fair!” He yells. People walking by look at you but you don’t pay them any attention.

“But you do feel things, I know you do. You don’t like the BeeGees. You prefer wearing blue over any other color. When we went to the museum, you said you liked Monet over Manet. Those are opinions, those are feelings. Sure, they might not work the same way mine do, but human beings are all so different. We all see the world in different ways and I’m sure there’s someone out there who thinks the way you do. You may not be able to eat the food you try, but you still want to try it. That’s feelings.” You say before leaning forward and kissing him softly. 

His lips are soft and dry and if you close your eyes, which you do, it’s like kissing a real person. You pull back and notice his eyes are closed as well. Your heart thumps against your ribcage.

“I don’t need to kiss or have sex to function properly. But that was nice. It was soft and it made you happy. Seeing you happy makes me happy. I know that sex is something couples do to show their affection and I want to do that for you. I want to make you happy in that way. I want to kiss you and have sex and be like a normal couple.” He says definitely, pulling you into a hug. He’s very good at hugs but you make a mental note to have him look up asexuality when this is done. It’s not a perfect comparison but it might help him feel better.

“Okay Ash, when we get back to the hotel, we’ll have sex. But until then, let’s just explore. Want to see Notre Dame today?” You agree, your hand sliding down his forearm to mesh between his fingers. This time he leans down and kisses you. It’s still a little stiff but you’ll teach him. He wants to learn. Pulling away, continue your walk down the bridge and onto the street. 

“Yes, I would like that.” He smiles, and you fall in love.

Tagging @babbushka because she asked so nicely lol.

[artificialqueens]

Lemon's Misadventures in Dating, Chapter 5 (Lemon x the world) - Mermelada

A/n: Hej hej hej! I’m very late in posting this to AQ after Ao3, so please forgive me! I hope you all like *~* filler chapters *~* because there’s a couple of them coming up! I’ve already written the next couple of chapters, but PLEEEAAASSSEE let me know if you have any requests or suggestions! Namely, should I attempt to write smut or not lol! Thank you again for all your lovely words about the fic, I love you all massively <3 <3

Having not slept in her own bed for the last two nights, Lemon decided to take a well-earned evening for herself, partly because she was running out of excuses for her parents as to why she’d been out so much lately, and partly to give the various bruises and bite-marks on her body time to heal. With Gus the dog snuggled into her side, she waited for The Sims to load on her laptop as Chromatica blared from her phone. She pressed on its screen to check the time, and saw she had received a new text message.

Dr Rita <3 [16:45] “I hope you survived your walk of shame, mon petit citron! Thank you again for a great night and day :-) x”

Rita was amazing. She was the epitome of a dark horse: she was so kind and patient with Lemon during her panic crisis, as she had so adorably put it, and made her feel all the safety and love she needed all morning. Yet not long afterwards, after some lazy chatter which had made Lemon inexplicably horny, she was once again fucking her to within an inch of her life. Speaking two languages was far from the only thing she could do with her mouth. They had even gone for lunch together after round 2 – and round 2.5 in the shower – before reluctantly parting as Rita prepared for her nightshift at the hospital. It was over lunch where they both agreed that pursuing anything serious wouldn’t be worth it, but they would definitely like to work on a friendship. Lemon had, however, still managed to charm her way into borrowing a hoodie from the older woman, both of them secretly pleased that it gave them a reason to hang out again. She quickly sent off a reply, thanking her once again for her help that morning and wishing her luck for the long night ahead in kidneyland with her love interest from the ward. 

Looking back to her laptop, the loading bar appeared to have frozen. Rolling her eyes, she held down the device’s power button to restart it. The snoring lump beside her clearly wasn’t going to entertain her as she waited, so she bit the bullet and opened up her new favourite app.

She grinned upon seeing that her most recent message was from Kyne.

[16:20] Remember I told you about my roommate who works in a porn studio lol? She came home just now with a box of those custard tarts you were telling me about, they are so good!!! 🤤 You really do have the best taste 😘

That’s a lot to unpack, she laughed to herself, she’s persistent, fair play to her! Plus it turns out she actually WAS listening! I just hope they were clean… I’ll reply later. Now what about Kiara, eh Gus-bus? She was nice, let’s see what she’s said! 

[09:12] How was the party? 🙂 I hope it was tudo bem!!

Lemon and Kiara had continued chatting yesterday until Lemon had to leave for her date, a ‘family party’ being the first reasonable sounding thing that came to mind when having to end their conversation. She hated lying, she really did, but how acceptable was it really to tell one Tinder-match that you were going on a date with another Tinder-match?

[17:03] It went well, merci! But I was too hungover to function all day lol 🤯

[17:03] How has your day been? 😊

Right, who’s next? Two new matches and a message from Boa! Let’s see what she has to say about me spamming her before she blocks me. Clicking on the girl’s message from last night, however, Lemon was pleasantly surprised that her texting blunder wasn’t the end of her chances.

[20:55] Lololololololololol no YOU’RE fun!!!!

[20:55] Clock the good grammar

[20:55] So what’s a girl like you doing on an app like this?

[20:56] 🍆🍆🍆

Now that was a question Lemon still occasionally asked herself, and she didn’t even know if she had an answer. So the best she could do was be honest.

[17:07] Well I’m recently single so I’m just seeing what happens, really, a few dates here and there to get me back on my feet again! To quote the great Kelly Rowland, I am down for whatever 😉

[17:07] How about you?

She had, once again, been well and truly sucked into the Tinder vortex. Closing her laptop and placing it on her bedside table, she nuzzled her face into Gus’s head, the dog making no effort at all to reciprocate the sudden attention. Squishing a kiss to his head, she turned back to the app, and her new matches: Scarlett and Ilona. They had both matched at around the same time, making their chat windows sit neatly at the bottom of Lemon’s screen. Sending them both standard “Hey gorge! What’s up? 😊” messages, she went back to swiping through profiles, although within less than a minute, a reply from Scarlett flashed at the top of her screen. 

[17:13] Hey gorge! I’m doing much better now that I’m speaking to you 😉

[17:14] What’s up with you?

A bit of enthusiasm goes a long way, she smiled, maybe Scarlett is the one? Or maybe she’s too into me and I should be worried? Surely not!

[17:15] I’m glad I can help! I’m pretty good thanks, having a lazy night in tonight! Are you doing anything fun?

Lemon debated giving the girl more details of her night in, but she was worried about what she might think… She’s covered in tattoos and eats fire, for god’s sake, there is no way she likes Lady Gaga or The Sims. She probably listens to death metal and drives a motorbike and has a pet snake, I could never compete! 

Fortunately, Scarlett was charming and very easy to talk to, and the two exchanged details - both mundane and exciting - through quickly typed messages. She learned that the other blonde was a lawyer, but had gone to circus school at weekends throughout university - which explained a lot - and was currently in an open relationship with her girlfriend. Lemon had never been ‘the other woman’ before, but as long as she wasn’t hurting anyone, surely it’s not that bad! Eventually, though, one message made Lemon’s anxiety start to creep in again.

[17:57] So I know this probably seems WAY too fast, so don’t worry if you don’t want to

Time seemed to stand still between this message and the next one. What does she want to do that’s fast? Sex? That’s not that big a deal, it must be more than that. Unless she’s into super kinky shit, which wouldn’t surprise me, does she want to piss on me? Does she want her girlfriend to piss on me? Does she want me to be her fake girlfriend at her sister’s wedding where we have to share a bed before eventually realising we loved each other all along? Finally, right on cue, the follow-up arrived.

[17:59] It’s my birthday on Saturday and I’m having a party at my house before heading out on the town, it’ll hopefully just be a few friends, and it would be cool if you could make it 🥳

[18:00] You can bring a friend if you want! But again no pressure!!

Wow, that wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought. She started blankly at her phone, letting her heart rate settle back down to its normal speed. A party, cool. I can do that!

[18:02] You had me worried for a second there! But that sounds fun, I’ll be there! 😀

Exiting the app, she hastily composed a message to Jan. Jan loved parties, she had such a natural charisma which she exuded effortlessly whenever she entered a room. She was able to chat to anyone about anything, and Lemon was always responsible for getting her out of tricky situations on nights out where her natural friendliness had been mistaken for something else. She would be the perfect person to deflect any potential awkwardness that may occur at a Tinder-date-she’d-never-met-before’s birthday party. As she awaited Jan’s reply (Please please please say yes, Jan, you’re my only hope!), she checked on the app again, swiping through countless samey-looking profiles. Until she reached one that she’d definitely seen before.

Priyanka, 29

Within 10 miles

I already swiped for this girl, look! There’s her in her lengha, there she’s at pride… Oh she has new pictures now, how weird! Priyanka did indeed have an additional two photos on her profile which Lemon hadn’t seen before: a professional-looking black and white image of her face and torso, showing her dark waves flowing down her shoulders, and her eyes directly piercing Lemon’s soul; and finally, a picture of the dark-skinned girl wearing a blonde wig, cowboy hat, and appearing to be screaming into a microphone… I do like a Hannah Montana fantasy, get it girl!

Just like before, Lemon swiped Priyanka’s profile to the right, but unlike last time, the notification she’d been hoping for appeared straight away.

Congratulations! You have matched with Priyanka!

Buoyed by the excitement of matching with somebody so quickly - and someone so gorgeous - Lemon jumped straight off the bed and started dancing, ‘Rain on Me’ blaring beside her for the third time that evening. Even Gus seemed to pick up on the change of energy, running up and down the bed, wagging his tail merrily. As the pair danced, the familiar ‘ding’ of a new notification sounded through the room. And again.

Briefly pausing to pick up her phone, she saw the two messages she had received. Firstly, from Kiara.

[18:12] Unnggghhh work today was the worst, but I found a really cute Portuguese café on my walk home! I have eaten so many natas lol. We could go sometime if you want to? 🙂

Before replying (yes, obviously… I didn’t download Duolingo yesterday for nothing!), she went to check on the second message, which was from her recent match, Ilona.

[18:12] See you on Saturday bitch! xox

Well that seems ominous.

[ubernoxa]

The Sip: A modern GNR FanFic

Chapter 1: A Boring Party

Our limo stopped and the two of us immediately made eye contact. At least we were here, one step closer to getting this night over with. Out of the two of us neither had wanted to be her here. Mark wanted to be at home with his actual girlfriend, and I would much rather be home watching Netflix.

Mark opened the door for me and helped me out of the limo, another part of our little show we were putting on for the press or whoever the hall was watching.

As we walked in, I immediately made eye contact with a face I had seen countless times in the tabloids and magazines, Duff McKagan. He stood no more than 100 feet from me smiling and laughing with his band mates as some people took photos of them. It was clear they were having a good time. I felt butterflies grow in my stomach the longer we kept eye contact. Jesus he was hot.

“Earth to Alanah,” Mark jerked me forward as we posed for a quick set of photos before going inside. If there weren’t people around us I would have made a comment about how surprised I was that he could fit through the doorway with such a big ego, but I didn’t want to start something. I was in no mood to deal with the backlash from my publicist who recommended that I ‘play nice’ tonight. Jesus Christ, my eyes hurt from how hard I rolled them when I read her text.

I felt like I was having the same conversation over and over again. It was like we were all rehearsing for a play. Don’t get me wrong, people were being very nice. It was just...repetitive.

Ohh I love your dress.

Are you working on any new projects?

How are you two doing?

Wow you’ve been dating for nine months?

Congratulations!

Are there wedding bells in your future?

“Excuse me, I am a bit thirsty. I need to get something to drink,” I smiled as a exited the conversation with one of Mark’s friends. He either played football or soccer, I honestly couldn’t remember. I also didn’t care.

“Hi,” I said to the bartender as I sat at one of the chairs. God it felt amazing to sit down. I regretted wearing my heals the second I left my apartment.

“What can I get ya?” He cleaned a glass as he spoke. To be honest I wasn’t a drinker. I probably drank once every couple months, if that at all.

“Vodka cranberry please,” I replied as the man nodded as he went to make my drink. Hopefully a drink would take the edge off, maybe even make the night enjoyable.

“How has your night been?”

“Would I sound like a bitch if I said it was boring,” I couldn’t help but laugh when I spoke.

“Not a huge fan of these parties?” The bartender handed me my drink.

“I used to like than a lot more. I don’t know anyone here, so I feel incredibly awkward. When I agreed to come I thought I knew others who would be here...but now...now if I have to talk about sports for 10 more minutes my head is going to explode,” I replied while placing some cash in his tips jar.

“Well if you need a break, some people are in the basement. Maybe a change of scenery would help?” I offered the bartender a smile as he spoke and pointed me in the direction of the basement.

Part of me felt bad for heading downstairs, but I didn’t care. The basement was probably half the size of the room upstairs, but I felt less claustrophobic as I walked around.

“Alanah,” I smiled as I saw an old friend at the pool table.

“Adam, long time no see! How are you?” I now stood next to him joining the small circle of people.

“I’m good. It feels good to be in the states again,” I smiled back to him. While the Netherlands were beautiful, there was nothing quite like home.

“Hey Adam, you down for pool? Alanah? When did you get here? Where is Mark?” Mira asked as she pulled Adam and I into the second room for pool.

I had met Mira twice before tonight. Long story short she was Adam’s girlfriend and an absolute sweetheart.

“Fuck Mark, he is busy bragging about how he is the greatest athlete on the planet,” it came out more blunt than I hoped, but there was no taking my words back.

“Great you found some people,” I looked over to see a the room full of recognizable faces. Mira quickly explained to me that they were going to play a game of pool something I have never played.

“You ready to lose,” I looked to my left to see a definitely not sober Duff McKagan. Was he actually talking to me? Did he notice me staring earlier?

fuck

Fuck

FUCK.

I took a quick second to collect myself by taking a sip of my drink. Dear god of alcohol, whoever you are, Please please please keep me from making a complete and utter fool of myself.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t drunk,” I smiled back finishing off my drink. I could feel his eyes on me as I finished it. He must have been wondering what I was drinking. I didn’t take him as the judge type, but who cared.

“Well I am worried that you are sober. Here have some of mine,” he offered me his glass and I quickly declined it.

“Why not a vodka fan?”

“No I got a vodka crab here,” I shook my empty cup as I spoke.

“I don’t like the idea of it mixed with sprite. Kinda sounds nasty...no offense,” I immediately regretted not only speaking but existing once I finished talking.

I could tell he was trying to hide a smirk. At least he was being nice?

“This is just straight vodka,” I froze in place as he spoke. I must have sounded like such a child.

“Oh, I’ve just never drank it straight,” I feel like a child admitting it. I wanted to kick myself as I spoke. I expected him to wander off and go find someone else to talk to, but he stayed. Maybe he was curious about what train wreck I would lead myself to.

“Well there is a first time for everything,” he shrugged as he passed me his glass. I looked over towards Adam who was already preoccupied with his girlfriend and her friends.

I felt a sharp burn shoot down my throat as I took a sip. I tried to conceal my cough, but I failed.

“Trust me it gets better the more you drink it. Come on let’s get you a glass,” he motioned for me to follow him, and I did like a lost puppy. The way I saw it was that I had three options.

1. Decline his offer and go talk with Adam

2. Decline his offer and go find Mark

3. Accept it and see what would happen.

I gave Adam a quick goodby wave as I followed Duff towards wherever he was going.

“Isn’t the bar upstairs?” I asked as we wondered through the halls.

“Yeah, but there is another one down her. No bartender, but we can make our own drinks. Plus we don’t have to deal with the annoying shits upstairs,” I was shocked at how clear his thoughts were after drinking straight vodka. Was this a regular night for him?

I handed him my cup and he filled it with vodka.

“Is vodka your go to?” I watched as he effortlessly drank the rest of his cup and poured himself another glass.

“Yep, and she hasn’t betrayed me yet. Come on let’s go upstairs,” He grabbed the bottle and the two of us snuck to the second floor of the venue. I don’t know why, but I felt a rush of excitement flow through my veins.

“How did you know this was up here?” I spun around looking at the small room we walked into. The soft carpet was begging for me to take off my heals and throw them in the trash. There was a table with chairs in one corner and a couch with a TV across from it.

“I was at another party here a few months back and I needed to get some air. Too many people,” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

As he went to open a window I sent Mark a quick text saying that I didn’t feel well and went home. He wouldn’t mind, he would actually prefer it. He would get to spend the rest of the night with a girl he actually likes.

“Understandable, sometimes it’s all too much,” I replied taking a seat on the couch.

“I’m assuming you know how to play go fish?” I turned my head towards his direction as he spoke.

“The children’s game?” I hadn’t meant for my tone to sound harsh, but it was. This was Duff McKagan the bassist of Guns N’ Roses, go fish was the last game I expected him to suggest.

“Judge all you want, but it’s a fast and fun way to get drunk,” I almost cringed as he spoke. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Could I really trust him?

I felt my phone vibrate and read the text from Mark, “absolute shocker”. God I wanted to slap him. At least I will have a better night now. I sneered, what a pair Mark and I were. An absolute match made in heaven.

“Alright, Duff explain the rules,” I threw my hands up in defense as I spoke.

I was beyond thankful that the rules were simple. If the other person doesn’t have the card, you drink. This, this was a game I could play.

“So where is your boyfriend?”

His question pulled me from my thoughts of trying to think of what cars to ask for.

“Gloating about himself downstairs, will probably be fucking some other chick tonight. where’s your girlfriend?” I quickly asked back. I wanted to kick myself as I spoke. I probably sounded like a complete bitch.

“Nonexistent,” why was I happy about that?

“Well between you and me, the same could be said about my soon to be ex,” I added in hopes to make him feel better.

He offered me a soft smile before taking a sip.

[starswallowingsea]

Transphobia in Cable Girls

Or: How not to write a trans character and story. 

Source: I’m a trans man and this was just BAD. 

Now before we really get into this, I will put a disclaimer here that no, I don’t think Cable Girls is the worst show ever and it’s cancelled or whatever. I love the show to bits and historical telenovelas are one of my favorite things to watch. I will say though, that the idea for this post has been sitting in my mind for a while, pretty much since I caught up to the Final Season Part 1. 

So with that out of the way, let’s get going. The character I am talking about is Oscar Ruiz (and for anyone not caught up to I think season 2 episode 3, his dead name is Sarah Millan). 

CWs: transphobia (obviously), violence, torture, war, mentions of nudity, sexual harassment, abuse mentions, murder, blackmail, general queerphobia, and spoilers for basically the whole show 

Oscar was originally presented to us as a sapphic woman attending a feminism presentation where he meets Carlota, and this in and of itself is fine, as I considered myself both a lesbian and a bisexual woman before I realized I was trans and I know other trans men and trans masc people have similar experiences. 

However, his character is outed as trans after his partner, Carlota, gets suspicious of him and goes through his things and eventually follows him to a hotel that he checked into under his chosen name and outing him as trans. Eventually this fact gets out to the other girls who accept Oscar for who he is and use his chosen name when they can. This is great! I was super excited when I watched this episode because I’m trans and I never see trans people in historical shows! But everything just goes downhill after that though. 

Oscar willingly enters himself into a place to help what today would be people under the LGBTQ umbrella, and he thought they would help him transition (I believe synthetic hormones were just starting to become a thing used to help cis people with medical problems, but were also sometimes used for trans people who could get their hands on it). Instead, he is forcibly TORTURED to make him stop being trans. We also see into other cells of queer and trans people who are just absolutely lifeless. Oscar is not allowed to call for help and ends up having to wait for his cis friends to get him out after a desperate call when he is alone in the main office. Later it’s revealed that one of the nurses there is also a trans man who was the son of the person who ran it and his punishment was to watch as other trans and queer people were tortured in this way. 

It’s also worth mentioning that Carlota convinced him to not go to visit a trans commune in Berlin and instead start a women’s activism movement in Spain. And in Season 3 his wishes for the movement aren’t respected at all and he ends up almost dying while handcuffed to a bomb with Carlota. 

When Carlota runs for office in season 4, she is bribed to drop out of the race by her opponent (who is a huge shitstain for the record). He ends up dead in a hotel after blackmailing Carlota with photos of Oscar in casual dress, revealing that he is, in fact, not a cis man. Carlota ends up as the main suspect, with almost no evidence originally pointing to anyone else. However, Oscar turns himself in in order to protect Carlota and he is sent to a women’s only prison, sentenced to death. I get that this takes place in 1920s Spain and even in 2020 we don’t have great trans rights in much of the world, there had to have been a different way to move this plot line forward instead of “the only trans character gets sentenced to death for a crime they didn’t commit to protect their partner” even though he was able to escape with everyone else (RIP Angeles). 

Season 5 has to be the worst offender though. This takes place during the end of the Spanish Civil War and there’s a few instances that just really pissed me off as a trans person. First, after the Francoist Republicans win and take over the press hotel that Carlota and Oscar are staying at, one of the officials finds Oscar hiding in their hotel as Carlota and James (another reporter for those who haven’t watched season 5) are trying to cover for him so that they don’t find out Oscar is trans. Good for them, but the official who finds Oscar makes him take his shirt off and upon realizing that he is binding his chest and “not really a man,” he makes some sexual and transphobic comments towards Oscar. 

After this brief interaction, Oscar flies into a fit of rage, while naked, and then puts on clothes that don’t match how he sees himself. The rage scene personally ticked me off. I don’t see any reason for him to be naked during it, especially as a trans person myself. I would have preferred he wear at the very least undergarments of some sort, but that’s just my personal preference. 

Anyway, these are just the most obvious bits of transphobia that Oscar faces, but compounded with the fact that he never seems to be happy, or when he does, it’s quickly dashed (like having Carlota dash out to meet with her political opponent right before their wedding and then get framed for murder) is just. Disheartening. He hardly gets any genuinely happy moments, and even though most of the show is just tragedy after tragedy, Marga still gets Pablo in the end, Lidia moves to America with Francisco, her daughter, and Angeles’ daughter, Angeles had someone who really, truly loved her right before she was shot helping Oscar escape prison (and also her abusive husband was murdered a few years ago). Yeah, Oscar moved to France with Carlota and they came back as conflict journalists to Spain during the Spanish Civil War, but it didn’t really feel satisfying to me. 

Like I said at the top, I don’t dislike the show and obviously transphobia has always existed in modern history, but that doesn’t need to be the defining thing about your only trans character. Give him a life outside of being trans, especially since I don’t believe any of the show runners are trans themselves. You could also argue that a lot of this is biphobia on behalf of Carlota, as both of their stories are heavily intertwined, although Carlota is the perpetrator of some of the subtle transphobia Oscar faces in the series. 

[notarelationship]

In A Minute - Ch 4

Klaine Fic - In A Minute

Summary: AU. Kurt’s a bit clumsy, and Blaine needs a boyfriend in a hurry. What more do you want? Words: ~3600 Chapters: 4/? Warnings: none

AO3: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

I am so, so sorry about the delay in posting! My summer just got away from me. I'm hoping to finish this up soon so the wait for the rest shouldn't be too long!

Thanks to @honeysucklepink​ for the beta! I claim all errors as my own.

--

“We can send up a fold out cot if you like,” the very-eager-to-help hotel employee on the other end of the line said.

Blaine considered it. He could sleep on the cot and Kurt could have the bed to himself.

“I’m sorry Mr. Anderson, we called a -” Blaine heard fingers clacking on a keyboard at the other end of the line. “A Pam Anderson - when we swapped the rooms. She said it would be alright and that you really only needed the one.”

“It’s - not all - I mean,” Blaine turned around when Kurt stepped back into the room. Kurt smiled and went to unpack his clothes into the wardrobe, carefully smoothing each item as he hung it. ‘Ask them to send up a steamer, I forgot mine,‘ Kurt whispered.  If Blaine’s mother knew what the configuration of his hotel room was, he couldn’t tell the front desk that they weren’t together. What if it got back to her? “No, it’s fine. Thanks.” Kurt turned to look at him expectantly. “Oh, and can you send up a steamer iron? Thank you.”

“Everything okay?” Kurt asked, when Blaine hung up the phone.

Blaine sighed and shrugged. “Well, they don’t have another room. But they did offer to send up a cot if I wanted.” He was worried about his mother finding out, but if it would make Kurt more comfortable then he’d do it. He’d worry about what to tell her when she found out. Which she would.

Kurt rolled his eyes and lay down on the bed, stretching out on one side. “Blaine. Lie down on the bed.” Kurt waved a hand and then patted the empty half of the mattress. “Please.”

Blaine hesitated, but Kurt made an insistent gesture, so he did as he was instructed. There was a lot of room between him and Kurt, which Kurt waved his arm across like he was making half a snow angel.

“See? You could put an entire third person in here with us - not that I’m suggesting that. Or two large dogs.” Kurt turned to his side, propping his head up with one hand. “Look, Blaine. I know you’re just trying to make sure I’m comfortable with this whole - situation, but I promise it’s fine. I’m pretty sure you’re not a serial killer, and you’ve been nothing but a gentleman.”

Blaine buried his face in a pillow and moaned. “I can’t believe I dragged you into this,” he mumbled into the pillow.

“Blaine.”

“Mmffmm.”

“Blaine look at me.”

Blaine took a deep breath and pushed himself up off of the mattress until he was sitting upright, facing Kurt. Kurt rolled his eyes and sat up.

“For the last time. You asked me and I said yes. And - I am very into this whole winery weekend thing, so stop feeling guilty about it for my sake.” Kurt paused for just a moment. “You’re on your own with your parents.”

“Okay.” Blaine laughed and closed his eyes, and because he was generally grateful for how cool Kurt was being about everything, including how nervous Blaine was acting, he added, “Thank you.”

“You may not thank me after I run up the champagne tab in the spa,” Kurt said, then he jumped off the bed, startling Blaine. “Now, I would really love to shower and get cleaned up. I smell like a commuter train. And I’m starving. What time is it? Do you think we can get some food anywhere?”

“Oh, uh almost 1:30, I think?” Blaine hopped off the bed and picked up a card that was set out on the desk that had the schedule of wedding sponsored weekend activities printed on it. “And there is a buffet lunch set out until three. I should probably head down and say hello to my family, do you want to come down when you’re ready?”

“That sounds great. I won’t be long, I really am hungry.”

Blaine waited while Kurt grabbed some things from his bag and then shut himself in the bathroom. Once he could hear water running, Blaine changed into fresh clothes, and made his way downstairs.

--

“Blaine! Sweetheart!” Blaine tried not to flinch as his mother flung an arm around him in an excessively demonstrative hug. “If I didn’t know better I’d have thought you were avoiding us!” Blaine speculated that it was likely that she’d had a few afternoon cocktails already.

“Hi Mom,” he said, returning her hug more sedately and kissing her on the cheek. “Of course not. We only arrived about 40 minutes ago. I came down as quickly as I could.”

His mother hummed noncommittally, looking behind Blaine as if he were hiding someone. “Where’s Kurt? I thought he was coming with you?”

“He wanted to freshen up after the ride here. He’ll be down shortly.”

“Oh, good,” she said, although it sounded more perfunctory than actually interested.

“I’ll make sure I bring him over to say hello,” Blaine said, as she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Delightful,” she answered, and then she was off to mingle with the other guests. Blaine wondered idly where his dad was.

Blaine glanced around the patio where the lunch had been set up. There were tables and chairs spanning the indoor/outdoor space, and opposite that the several buffet tables set up along the inside wall. It gave off the feeling of wanting to be casual, but Blaine knew better; there was nothing casual about this crowd. He was surprised that there weren’t tuxedoed wait staff serving hors d’oeuvres on silver trays.

There were about fifty people milling around, and while Blaine recognized some of them, more of them were strangers. He wondered how many people had actually been invited to the wedding.

“Hey, I’d know those boyish good looks anywhere.” Blaine didn’t recognize the voice, so he didn’t realize the owner of it was speaking to him. At least not right away. “I had no idea they’d belong to an ass that wouldn’t quit.”

Blaine choked and looked around to see who on earth would be that forward with a total stranger at someone’s wedding.

A guy Blaine would have described as smarmy held out his hand. Blaine shook it. “I’ve heard a lot about you Blaine Anderson.”

“Um, who are you?”

“Oh, I thought for sure you’d recognize me from the snaps I sent you the other day. Sebastian Smythe.”

Blaine’s manners kicked, sort of, while he mentally rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, but the one with your face must not have come through.” Blaine looked around, hoping to see Kurt walking in, but there was no sign of him.

“Blaine honey!” His mother reappeared. “I see you’ve met Sebastian!”

Blaine grimaced. She was about to keep going, no doubt singing Sebastian’s praises, when Blaine’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Excuse me one sec,” he said, hoping it was Kurt. Fishing his phone out, he turned away so he could check the message, and his mother carried on talking to Sebastian.

What are you wearing?

It was from Kurt, and Blaine tried not to notice the warm feeling that licked up his spine at that question. Even though he knew there wasn’t really anything behind it.

Excuse me?

I need to know what you’re wearing so I can match - casual? Formal? I didn’t see you before you left.

Oh. Okay. That made sense. Blaine had dressed in a pair of navy shorts and a white polo, but had picked one of his favorite peach colored bow ties with schnauzers on them for some personality.

Navy shorts and a white polo. Bow tie. He texted Kurt.

How preppy. send me a picture?

Blaine could feel his face color, and looked around as if someone were peeking at his incoming texts. Not that it was scandalous at all, he was just being weird.

OK hang on.  Blaine found a men’s room, thankfully empty, and took a photo of himself in the lounge mirror. He held his breath when he hit send.

He didn’t have to wait long. Great. I’ll be down in less than ten!

Blaine wandered back over to the buffet gathering, avoiding where his mother was still talking to Sebastian, wondering if ten minutes actually meant ten minutes. Was Kurt a punctual person or did he have a tendency to be late while getting ready for a party? Blaine tried to remind himself that he really didn’t know Kurt that well; they weren’t actually friends.

He needn’t have worried. He was still contemplating this thought, staring at the buffet tables, when he felt the pressure of a light hand on his back.

“Hi.” Kurt leaned very close, and Blaine couldn’t help but lean slightly in to meet him. Whether it was Kurt himself or simply the pull of another person this close to him he didn’t know. Kurt’s lips grazed Blaine’s ear, and he whispered, “I’m going to kiss you on the cheek - I didn’t want to startle you.”

“Oh, okay.” Blaine barely had time to process the thought, tipping his face just enough to accept the offering. He hoped Kurt didn’t notice how warm his cheeks felt.

Was this the first time Kurt had kissed him? He had a vague panic that there might be more kissing, followed by more panic that he was thinking about it. Had they talked about wedding PDA?

“You look very cute, by the way,” Kurt said, and Blaine turned to get a look at Kurt because if they were going to talk he didn’t want to be staring somewhere else. “I wasn’t sure how to dress for this, so I packed a few options.” Kurt fiddled with a neckerchief tied neatly at his throat. It was the first indication Blaine had that Kurt might be nervous about this too.

He didn’t have any reason to be. Blaine took in Kurt’s outfit, and had to resist ogling like a creep. His shorts were slim cut, a few inches longer than Blaine’s, hugging his thighs in a way that somehow made his legs look longer. His shirt was a madras pattern, only instead of the bright colors popular with the New England upper crust prep style everyone else was wearing (and that Blaine had plenty of examples of in his own closet), his was tones of brown with gold flecks. Two of the buttons were undone, exposing just enough skin for Blaine to -

Not your boyfriend not your boyfriend not your boyfriend

“You look perfect,” Blaine managed to say.

-

“Kurt!” Blaine started when he heard his mother call from halfway across the room. He bit back a smirk and shook his head as Pam enthusiastically hugged Kurt, and Kurt accepted the greeting like they were long lost cousins. “Blaine said you were running late, I’m so glad you could make it down to meet everyone.”

Kurt laughed politely. “Well I did just get here, so I haven’t had a chance to meet anyone yet.” Kurt linked his arm with Pam’s, as Blaine watched, dazzled by the ease with which Kurt handled his mother. “Maybe you should show me off to some of the guests? And I’m starving, maybe you could lead me in the direction of a sandwich?” Kurt looked at Blaine, an eyebrow raised as if asking permission. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not. But make sure you remember everyone’s name so you can tell me who they are later,” Blaine teased, even winking as Kurt walked off with his mother, and Blaine wondered once again what he’d gotten himself into.

Before he could explore that thought again, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Alone, finally.” Blaine turned to see Sebastian leaning much too close to him, although he had moved his hand away. “I thought he’d never leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your boyfriend.”

Blaine was confused. He was sure Kurt hadn’t been there ten minutes before his mother swooped in and whisked him away. “Kurt? He just got here.”

“Still.” Sebastian leered a little and Blaine was uncomfortable all over again. “We can hardly get to know each other if he’s monopolizing your time.”

Blaine didn’t really want to cause a scene at his cousin’s wedding, but he needed to put a stop to - whatever this was.

“Look, Sebastian, I’m flattered, really.” He wasn’t, but he could pretend, right? He was even getting good at it. “But when my mother suggested we meet she didn’t realize that I had a serious boyfriend. I’m not really interested in dating or meeting anyone right now.” That was polite enough, Blaine hoped Sebastian wouldn’t be too offended.

Sebastian snickered, not seeming put off at all. “I’m not really interested in dating either, Blaine. I just thought we could have a little fun this weekend.” Sebastian nodded in Kurt’s direction, dropped his voice, almost but not quite whispering into Blaine’s ear, “He doesn’t really look like he can keep someone as hot as you satisfied.”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Well, I’m in room 269. I’ll leave a key at the front desk if your boyfriend can’t keep up his end this weekend.”

“Oh my god. No, I don’t - I don’t think so.” He put up a hand in between himself and Sebastian. “You should, back off, I think.” Blaine glanced over to where Kurt was waving around a small plate of food, and he and his mother were entertaining a small group of women who Blaine thought were possibly great aunts, or second cousins. He looked like he’d be busy at least for a few minutes, so Blaine walked out of the room.

The rest of the hotel was mercifully quiet, and he found a sliding door that led to a narrow balcony. Cool ocean air hit him and Blaine shivered. At first he didn’t see anyone outside, but when he turned to walk to the far end of the balcony, just to gather himself before he went back to the party, he spied his father, leaning over the railing, smoking a cigarette.

“I thought you quit,” Blaine said.

Stewart startled, then relaxed when he saw it was Blaine who had interrupted him. “I mostly have.” He took a long drag on what was left and tossed it into the sand below the balcony. “Your mother is in rare form already.”

Blaine snorted, then caught himself when his father raised an eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I know she has her moments. Want to talk about it?”

Blaine shook his head, staring out at the ocean view. It was beautiful. “Maybe. Do you have any idea why she’s trying to fix me up with that guy - Sebastian?”

Stewart grimaced. “The Smythe boy? I thought she’d given up on that.”

“You know him?”

“Not really. His parents are on about a half dozen planning committees at the club, I think your mother is trying to get in good with them.”

“She’s trying to pimp me out to their son so she can decorate the country club Christmas party?” Blaine’s jaw dropped as he stared at his father.

Stewart shrugged, then leaned on the railing, joining Blaine in his observation of the ocean.

“I have no idea what on earth would make her think I would be interested in that guy. He’s,” Blaine shuddered, “really not my type.”

“His parents are lovely people, but you know how your mother can get bored. And when she gets bored she gets caught up in what passes for southwestern Ohio high society.” Blaine nodded. She did enjoy her status-play. “I thought she’d stop after we met Kurt - I like him, by the way. I think your mother does too.”

Blaine sighed and bit his lip. He wanted to tell his dad about how his mother had obviously maneuvered Kurt so Sebastian could get him alone. He didn’t.

“Dad? I have to tell you something.” Blaine laced his fingers together, looking back out toward the ocean. “And I just - I’m sorry, in advance. For lying to you.”

Stewart stood and looked at Blaine. “Blaine are you in trouble? Did something happen at school - did you fail a class?”

“No, no, nothing like that Dad.” Blaine chuckled. God he could only imagine what would happen if he failed a class. That would be much worse than lying. “I - Kurt’s, um, not really my boyfriend.”

“Blaine?” Stewart leaned on the railing. “I don’t understand? Why would you tell us he was if he wasn’t?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I,” Blaine cleared his throat. “I got tired of Mom asking about my love life, and trying to fix me up with this guy I’d never met from Ohio.” His dad nodded, so Blaine went on.  “So when you guys came for dinner I asked him to just come out with us. I thought it would get her to leave me alone, you know? I’m so busy all the time, and dating is not easy in New York, apparently, and I just, I wanted her to lay off for a while. But I didn’t want to be rude about it.”

“I do appreciate you not wanting to be rude to your mother Blaine, but there was really no need to lie to us about this. You could have just told her you weren’t interested.”

“Don’t you think I tried that?” Blaine grumbled. “She can be pretty persistent.”  Blaine was relieved that his father didn’t seem to be mad, or even disappointed to the point that Blaine’s guilt over the entire thing would get worse. But still, he felt like he should make some amends for it. “I’ll pay for all of Kurt’s extra costs this weekend, I promise. I told him he could use the spa and whatever hotel amenities there were to get him to come with me - and I’ll make sure I pay for all of it okay?  I don’t want this to cost you anything, I just wanted to,” Blaine paused. “I just needed a break.”

Stewart was silent for a few stretched out minutes, and Blaine knew his father well enough to know he was weighing everything Blaine had just told him. “I think you should not tell your mother about this for now, if that’s alright with you - I’d like to avoid starting any drama at your cousin’s wedding, if that’s even possible. And we can worry about who pays for what later, and what to tell your mother.”

Blaine nodded. “Very alright. I’d like to never tell her, if possible.” Blaine sighed. “Thanks Dad.”

“For what?”

“For being understanding? I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Stewart hmmed, but didn’t say anything more about it. “How about we head back. The lunch is probably over by now and I should pretend I spent the afternoon mingling.”

Blaine just laughed, relieved, and followed his dad back to the party.

-

“What time are we due at dinner tonight?” Kurt asked after they’d made their goodbyes and were walking to the elevators.

“It’s late, not until 8:30 I think, after the rehearsal. Why?”

“If you don’t mind, I wouldn’t mind getting into the spa before then? I checked earlier and they had a few slots open for massages, and a facial would do me wonders. The air out here is saltier than I expected.”

Blaine lifted his chin, nodding once. “Oh! Of course, you should definitely take the opportunity. I might just take a nap. I feel like I’ve been up for two days.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t mind my saying, maybe you should join me? You seemed a little tense in there, maybe a massage would help? A fancy hot shave?” Kurt wiggled his shoulders excitedly.

“I -” Blaine paused. He didn’t have any reason not to. And after confessing to his dad he felt a lot less pressured that he might make a mistake and let something slip. “Yeah okay. I don’t think I’ve ever had a professional massage before.”

Kurt clapped his hands. “Oh, you’re going to love it.”

-

The massage was exactly the right thing to work out the remaining anxiety Blaine had been holding onto since talking with his dad. He wasn’t entirely proud of the fact that he had lied to his parents about Kurt, but his dad did seem to understand, and they way the masseuse pressed and pushed and pulled every uncovered inch of his body seemed to realign his head into something that felt a little more like himself. He didn’t even get (too) distracted by Kurt walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist. Blaine felt good for the first time in what felt like weeks.

After their massages, Kurt stayed to take advantage of the nearly empty sauna, but all Blaine wanted was a long hot shower. So he excused himself, and went back to their room alone. If he indulged in a few private thoughts about the way the spa towel sat over the curve of Kurt’s ass, who could blame him?

Kurt still hadn’t returned by the time Blaine finished in the shower, so he pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt and sat down to send Kurt a text.

Not sure when you’ll be back, wanted to let you know I’m going to try to take a nap before dinner. Don’t worry about making noise when you get back, I sleep like a rock.

Blaine put his phone on silent and dropped it on the bedside table. His last thought before dozing off completely was that he should probably tell Kurt that his dad knew everything now.

He didn’t hear his phone buzz with an incoming text.

-  

Save me a spot on the bed. I feel like I’ve run a marathon, I may join you for that nap.

[nobodiesheartlessshitblog45]

Helping Robert

It had been a few months since Luka has help Robert come sober, slowly but surely Robert was doing good. Going to AA meetings were something that Robert was not too keen on doing. Sitting on around talking to a bunch of strangers was something that didn’t feel right to him.

As the week was rolling by Robert was sitting on the couch, looking up at the ceiling and ichying for a drink, but he throw out every bottle of whiskey he hand lying around the house.

He could go the store and get some. No one would know. Luka wouldn’t know.

One drink would not kill anyone.

Robert shook his head, and sat up. Places his hand over his face, and sighs loudly to himself.

Betsy, the Boston Terror was looking at him, she whimpers.

Robert smiles at the pup and pats her head, gently. “Good girl.”

He reaches for his phone, and looks at him. Should he reach out to Luka?

The guy was probably asleep, but Robert texted him.

Robert’s text: *hey. you awake?*

He sent a massage, and waited about a few moments. After about a few minutes, Robert was about take a shower when his phone chimed. He quickly looks at his phone, saw Luka was still up, thank god.

Luka’s texte: *hey! 😁 what’s up? everything okay??*

Robert paused before texting back. *can I come over for a bit??

After a few moments Luka texted back *yeah, sure. Come over. Are you ok??**

Robert’s text: I need to talk to someone.

Meanwhile at Luka’s house he was sitting down in the living room, really a book, staining at his phone with a worried expression on his.

Luka’s text: Yes, of course.

After a 10 minutes, the door bell ring and Luka walks over to open the door, as soon as he did Betsy came running like bat out of hell and ran into the living room.

Robert came walking in. His face looked somewhat pale and dark circles under his eyes.

Luka: Hey. ... Are you okay?

Robert: N-No... just... havin’ a rough night is all.

Luka nods but didn’t say anything, Robert walks into the living room, where Ponyo the cat lying on the couch sleeping soundly.

Robert smiles and reaches out to pet the cats head.

Ponyo lets out soft meow, and begins to purring, and rolled onto his back, letting Robert pets his belly.

Robert: Heh. Good kitty.

Luka: (walks in) Can I get you some tea?

Robert: Tea? (looks at him)

Luka: Yeah, I have green tea, green tea with mint, black tea, peppermint tea, or plain mint. ... ... Oh. There’s raspberry tea, chamomile tea.

Robert: ... ... The hell are ya, Luka? British?

Luka: Heheh. Kinda. I did live in the UK for 10 years with my husband before we moved back to the U.S.

Robert: ... ... Well that explains lot... Um... I dunno, ain’t much of tea guy... Chamomile tea, I guess.

Luka: You got it.

He walks out the room, and Betcy follows him into the kitchen.

Robert stops petting Ponyo and begins looking around the the large living room.

It was sit up very nicely, the couches pushed up against the walls, a large coffee table with beautiful flowers in small vase in the meddle, and some book.

Robert looking at the the photos that were hanging on the walls.

He looks around and smiles when sees cute pictures of Amanda when she was younger, and some pictures of friends and possibly some family.

Robert walks over the fireplace and sees one picture that caught his eye.

He reaches out and takes it, then looks at it.

Robert: No... It can’t be.

It was picture of Luka, smiling like at the camera his hands on Amanda’s shoulder who was held two pease signs and standing next on Luka’s right was taller muscular looking, with brown sink, light hazel eyes, and his arm Luka’s waste and his other hand on Amanda’s head.

Robert then saw other two photos with Luka and same taller man. It was wedding photo, both of them looked younger, and both wearing tuxes, and were kissing, and other laughing with white cake all over their face. And one where the the taller man was carrying Luka bridle style looking angry and embarrassed, and the taller man laughing and smiling brightly.

Robert then saw another picture of the Luka and the taller hold small baby girl Amanda, both of them smiling happy, and one the taller man was holding baby Amanda, her small on his shoulder, and a sweet smile on the taller face.

Robert: ... Alexander ‘The bone crush’ Jarvis! (thinking) LUKA WAS MARRIED TO ONE WORLD’S GREATEST BOXERS!? ... OH, MY GOD!!!

Amanda came walking down stairs, and sees Robert, standing in the living room and dumbfounded look on his face.

Amanda: Hey! Robert! ... Are ... you okay?

Robert: (looks at her) YOUR OLD MAN WAS ALEX BONE CRUSHER?!

Amanda: (looks at him awkwardly) Um... Yeah.

Robert: Oh, yeah! Kid, your dad was world famous boxer! You’re dad kicked ass!!

Luka: (walks in with a hot cup of tea) Here’s your—

Robert: (storms over to Luka) YOU WERE MARRIED TO ALEX THE BONE CRUSH?!

Luka nearly drops the hot cup off onto himself, and looks at Robert confused.

Luka: HUH?! What... the hell are you talking about?!

Amanda: Dad, language.

Luka: ... ... (gives her a sideways glance) What in the world are you talking about?

Robert: YOUR HUSBAND IS ALEX THE BONECRUSHER! HELLO!?

Luka: ... Ooooookay. And...?

Robert: ... Why are you not makin’ a big deal about this!? Your husband was a world famous boxer! YOU WON 35 MATCHES AND ONE OF THE BEST BOXERS IN THE WHOLE GODDAMN WORLD!!

Luka: ... ... (gets annoyed) Can you please shouting in my house. You’re freaking out the cat.

Robert blinks looks at Ponyo, who he saw was running out of the room.

Robert: Oh, sorry, old man.

Robert sits down the couch, and Luka places the tea onto the table and Amanda sits in the love couch, and Betcy hops onto her lap. Amanda smiles and hugs her.

Luka: Yeah, I was married to Alex.

Robert: For how long?

Luka: ... Um, Amanda is 18, so... 23 years

Robert: ... Seriously. Y-You were married and raised a kid with Alex The Bone Crusher.

Luka: (smiles) Yep. But to us he was a loving father and husband to us. Plus he kinda hated being famous.

Robert: Really?

Amanda: Yeah. Daddy hated being a celebrity. He would do interviews, and show up to charity events, but that’s about it. He just enjoyed boxing.

Robert: ... Huh? I-I didn’t know you were married to a badass man. Dude was monster in the ring.

Luka: Yeah... He was. (picks up the photo, and smiles) But he was big softly and goofball. And kind of big baby.

Robert: No, really?

Amanda: Oh, yeah. Daddy... Would scream and run away if he saw a bug. He hated bugs, snakes bats... And he was scared of ferrets.

Luka: Hehe. Remember you had a Ferret was a class pet, he refused to come out of room, then you made him the it... God, I have seen a man go from pure fear to madly in love in one second. Heh.

Amanda: Then he tried to adopt a ferret and we got Ponyo instead.

Luka: Yeah, Alex was a one of kind man.

Robert looks at the sweet smile on Luka’s. Amanda was looking one to other and stands up.

Amanda: Welp, it’s gettin’ late.

Gonna hit the hey. Night, Pops.

Luka: (look up) Huh? Oh, goodnight, sweetheart.

She walks up to him and kisses him on the cheek, smiles at Robert, who nods and smiles, she heads the upstairs.

Robert: ... You’re is a good kid.

Luka: Heh. Yeah. She is one of kind. (puts the photo down) So... Are you okay?

Robert looks at him, then looks at the mud of tea that was in his hand.

Robert: I... have been strugglin’ a lot lately.

Luka looks at him, and Robert sighs and takes a drink from his tea and sighs.

Robert: I-I was about to walk over to the liquor store... (puts his hand over his face) I... I don’t know what to do, Luka. I’ve been goin’ to these AA meetings for the past month and ... I don’t if I can’t keepin’. ... We had to hold hands and sing Goddamn Kumbaya.

Luka: I don’t think it’s that bad.

Robert: Luka, literally we had a stand in the a circle and sing kumbaya... It was... awakened.

Luka: ... ... That’s... Okay. (thinks for a moment) Have you thought about talking to someone?

Robert: I tried to reach out to Mary, but she’s got own shut to wal with.

Luka: That’s not what I meant.

Robert looks at him confused.

Luka: I was saying you should see a therapist about this.

Robert: ... A therapist? You’re bullshttin’ me.

Luka: (gets serious) I’m not bullshitting. I think you should see a therapist. I know a good one. Her name is Jessica Gilbert.

Robert: Wait... You go to therapy?

Luka: ... Yeaaah. Me and Amanda both do.

Robert: Wait, seriously? You both go to therapy? But...

Luka: But what?

Robert: You’re both so normal. You guys don’t see seem to have an issues. (grins)

Luka didn’t say anything, just looks at away for a moment. Robert’s smile fades, realizing that he said something stupid.

Robert: Shit... I-I... I’m sorry I wasn’t tryin’ to—

Luka: No, it’s... Okay. (pauses) After Alex passed away, Amanda... She... completely shut down. She wouldn’t eat, bearly spoke a word for 2 weeks. It was like all the joy and happiness was sucked out my girl life. It was most terrifying thing in my life. So, I took her see Jessica slowly but slowly, but surely, Amanda was back to herself.

Robert: ... ... What about you?

Luka: Huh? Oh, well, I have been seeing Jessica for years, even before Alex passed away. I-I hacd PTSD and anxiety.

Robert: ... ... Damn. I-I ... hand No idea.

Luka: Yeah. It’s something I don’t like talking about. I had a shit happened to me some years ago, but... I’m a lot better. (smiles) Yeah, I have days where I snuggle. Just like you.

He reaches and touches Robert’s hand, and squeeze gently.

Luka: Which is why I think you need this. I can’t make you going to therapy, but... I promise helps heal, the scars are there, and they still hurt like hell, but trust me... they will heal if let them.

Robert looks at Luka, and slowly takes his hand into his holds gently, the smiles.

Robert: Okay. I’ll give her a call tomorrow.

Luka smiles, and Robert moves closer to Luka, and rests his head his against his.

Robert: ... Thank you, Luka.

Luka: What are friends for.

Robert: ... ... Can I, um, stay the night?

Luka: Yeah. Of course. Let me set up the geust bedroom set up.

Robert nods and the two walked up the stairs and down at the very end hallway, and last down to the left, and small room.

Luka walks over to small closet and pulls out some sheets and blankets, as Ponyo came walking into the room, rubbing his body against Robert’s leg, and Betcy came running up, next to the cat.

Ponyo looks at her and begins nuzzling closer to her, Betcy began licking his face.

Robert watches them, smiling at the cute sight.

Robert: Gotta say Ponyo is very good with Betsy.

Luka: Heh. He is. We mostly grew with a our old Rottweiler, Suzy. She was a good girl. (pulls some blankets on the bed)

Robert: Aww. I wish I could have met her.(rubs the back of his head) Um, ya thanks. For lettin’ me stay the night.

Luka: No problem. I can understand. I kinda hate being alone sometimes too.

He made up the bed, and looks at Robert with smile.

Luka: Nothin’ to fancy, but it should be comfortable.

Robert: It’s perfect. Thanks again, Luka.

He walks up to him, his face goes a little pink, and hugs Luka who was taken aback by this action and hugs him back.

Robert: Thanks. ... I-I... I don’t really don’t know what else say. Thank you.

He pulls away, Luka’s sweet warm smile nearly made Robert’s heart melt.

Luka: Hey, Wait. I think there’s something that could help you. Give me a few minutes.

He walks up out room. Robert sits on the bed, and lays on it, looking ceiling.

After a few moments, Luka came walking caming back holding a black notebook, and pen.

Luka: Here.

Robert: Huh? (sits up, and takes it, and looks through the blank pages) ... ... I’m lost.

Luka: It’s a journal. I thought it might help you.

Robert: I’m don’t get it.

Luka: Well, Me and Amanda journal all the time, and it helped us out when dealing with our personal issues. It might help you as well, Robert.

Robert: Soooo... Write down my thought and feelin’. That kinda shit?

Luka: Pretty much.

Robert: And this works?

Luka: Dosen’t hurt to try.

Robert: Heh, touché.

Luka: Is there anything else you need?

Robert: No, you and Amanda have been good to me. I’m gonna try and gets some set eye.

Luka: Of course. Let me know if you need anything.

Robert nods thanking Luka again, he smiles the walks out the room.

Robert then looks at the notebook, he sits on the table, heads into the the bathroom, get changed into his pjs and brush his teeth.

He walks of the bathroom with a green t-shirt and gray sweatpants, looks walks over to the bed, looks down at the notebook again, thinking.

Robert: What the hell...

He sits down an the bed, picks up the notebook and pens, slowly began writing.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 60

Chapter Summary - The Hiddleston's deal with Emma's words to Danielle before Christmas, but Danielle pleads with them to drop it.

When Tom and Danielle get talking, they discuss matters that require Luke's input, which quickly leads to Tom begging her for something.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​ @lys-syl @youcantcatchafallingstar

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Tom and Danielle walked over to Diana’s with Danielle still in her nightwear and Tom in the jeans and hoodie he went to the shops in. As soon as they entered the house, the thick atmosphere was the first thing they noticed.

“Right, first things first, Yakov, get your daughter and go to mine,” Danielle ordered, Yakov nodded and rushed upstairs to get his daughter out of the horrible atmosphere. “Ready?” She asked, looking to Tom.

“For what, Emma deserves this.”

“Tom, no good comes from holding grudges, I told you that after everything with Taylor, now, she is your sister, and this is all out now so we move on.”

Tom did not seem so sure but nodded in agreement in the end. “Fine.” He conceded grudgingly as they made their way into Diana’s kitchen.

Inside, Sarah and Diana stood at one side of the room while Emma and Jack stood on the other, the older Hiddleston women glaring at the younger, her husband looking almost ashamed next to her. When Tom and Danielle entered, Sarah and Diana immediately looked to them.

“Is what I heard true Tom?” Sarah demanded as soon as Danielle closed the door. “Well?”

“Sarah…”

“I’ve sent Yakov over to mine with the Duchess, it’s not healthy to have her hear this.” Danielle began, the other adults looked somewhat ashamed. “The other day, Emma was slightly annoyed and tried to extend something of an olive branch to me, but I had just gotten out of bed and was wearing Tom’s shirt, she saw that and got pissed off again leading her to say that she wanted me to back off, she had lost time with her brother of late and I was to give her time with him and the family, I did so, resulting in my less than fine moment of fracturing my wrist, but since then she has apologised to myself and Tom and we have to her and have tried to get passed everything that happened, so please, can we continue to do that?”

“She...she actually told you to back off from us, wait, is that why you didn’t ring to say you were in fucking hospital.”

“Sarah.” Diana chastised.

“Mum, you are worried about my language right now?”

“Look, Emma felt betrayed, you and she both know, hell, even Diana knows that people have become obsessed with using you guys to get to Tom, and well, can you blame her for getting pissed off with me? I was supposed to be her friend and next thing she knows, I am dating her brother, it’s not exactly nice. So her anger is somewhat understandable, as is Tom’s for how she has acted when all he wants is for everyone to be happy.”

“So those two are arguing and you are not mad at Emma?” Sarah asked in disbelief.

“No, I’m not, she is my best friend, and recently I haven’t had a lot of time to show her how much I actually care for her as my best friend and I should have, I’m sorry.” She looked at Emma as she spoke. “I really miss you.”

Emma swallowed and her eyes darted around. “I…” But she said no more.

“It’s done, please everyone, can we not argue about it, Em’s sorry, Tom and I are sorry, and all I was is my breakfast which is going cold for no reason because we are all arguing over a non-issue.”

“She never even got you a present, that is how petty she got, and you are not getting pissed off?” Sarah questioned.

“So what? I got enough this year, seriously, the only thing she needs to give me is a chance to prove I wasn’t using her to get to Tom.”

“You realise for the youngest person here, you’re the most mature one.” Diana smiled fondly looking at her.

“Obviously, I’m Irish,” She tossed her hair dramatically as she spoke before looking over at Jack and smiling “The good kind of Irish.”

“Ha-ha, forever with the jokes, Galway Girl.”

“You know the real one was actually red haired, but it didn’t match the song,” Danielle informed him.

As though the tension had finally gotten too much, Emma burst out laughing, “Why do you know this?”

“You know I know way too much stupid information, that;s why you are always trying to get me to do Table Quizzes with you.”

“You know about American football.”

“I used work nights, there are no other sports on at four am but basketball and American football, you learn fairly quick.” She shrugged. “Came in handy, got me a job next summer with a company from the States because I was able to know who Tom Brady was, and not just that he is married to Gisele Bun-whatever her name is, supermodel lady.”

“That got you a job?” Sarah asked in shock.

“Studio people are stuck around each other for stupid amounts of hours a day, they want people they can talk to, converse with, I clearly just said the right things.”

“Wait, when are you going to America?”

“May or June, I can’t remember, the contract signing is in March.” She dismissed before looking back at him, “Why?”

“I just didn’t…”

“Are you upset I’ll be going away for a few weeks?” She asked with a knowing smile. “Well, who knows, maybe if you’re not busy you can come.”

“It’s weird being the one that will be left behind,” Tom commented.

“We will have to do so from time to time. Now, are we all calm and back to normal?” She asked, looking around; everyone nodded, though she knew they were all still quite awkward with one another. “Fine, I’m getting breakfast, it has been a fairly weird morning.” She stated, much to the confusion of everyone but Tom before towards the back door. “I feel like trash, I am walking around in my pyjamas, I swear, if today is the day the leeches try to get a new pic of Tom, I am going to die of embarrassment.” She growled as she left.

Diana and his sisters looked to Tom for an explanation but all Tom could do is chuckle and shrug before looking to Emma, his face becoming serious again. “On a serious note, she really does want to fix things between you. She is the one fighting for everything to go back the way it was, remember that.” He stated before following her back to her house.

*

“Elle?”

“Bedroom.”

“You changed your study/office.”

“I know, I was going to start studying for a few days while I was home, but I guess I’ll be having to pack it all for London now.” She smiled. “Actually, that’s why I’m in here, I am going to need more than a week’s worth of undies and t-shirts.”

“Well, I have a new suitcase that can help.” He grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I am actually looking forward to this.”

Really?” She turned her head toward him slightly.

“Yes, having you to myself.”

“You had me to yourself before now.”

“But you were working too much.”

“I still have to work,” She reminded him.

“As do I, but we’ll make time, won’t me, to just watch a film?”

“Get a takeaway, perhaps Netflix and Chill.” She smiled turning to look at him. “Maybe even go for a walk in the fresh air, together.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, probably away from the city first, then when we are found out, in the park.”

Tom kissed her passionately. “I cannot tell you how much I want that.”

“Good, we also have to talk to Luke about our plan, regarding the picture and that.”

“I’ll text him in a minute, we can organise something then, but I think he will like it.”

“Text him now, no procrastinating, call if you can.” She ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He gave her a military salute as he did so and took out his phone, and got up Luke’s number. “Hello Luke, how was your Christmas?”

“Tom, what’s happened?” Luke’s voice was fearful down the phone.

“Nothing.” Tom rolled his eyes, “Wait, you never used to answer the phone to me like that before.”

“I used never have to worry about you and publicity tramps before.”

Danielle frowned next to Tom. “Hang on, are you talking about Danielle?” Tom began to get annoyed.

“Tom, the only controversial thing about Ms Hughes is what way to spell her first name, she is a publicist’s wet dream in comparison to others,” Luke growled.

“So why bring up others?”

“Because I am terrified that you’re about to tell me something regarding said others.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Well then, my Christmas was quite pleasurable, though I think I may never be able to look at poultry again and I may need new pants, these seem tight,” Tom chuckled. “Though I doubt this is a friendly call, so what is it?”

“Elle and I were talking.”

“And?” There was apprehension in Luke’s voice.

“About when it is found out that we are together.” Luke remained silent on the phone. “Danielle came up with an idea and I wanted to run it by you.”

“I’m listening.”

“If we find out someone has spotted us and put it online, we immediately release a photo and statement giving the basic details, her name, where’s she from, and some other tidbits that we want to be known, and if it gets as long as we can, we want to release the information ourselves a few weeks before a wedding or something so the hubbub will die down beforehand.”

“That is brilliant.” Luke was chuckling.

“So you like it?”

“I do, I think it is genius.”

“She wanted to have some control in it, she knows they will snoop regardless, but it gives her some power.”

“It makes sense.” Luke acknowledged. “I am not going to lie, Tom, people are going to go for her no matter how this comes out, some good, plenty bad, but if she remains stoic in public, if they don’t smell blood, they tend to get bored very quickly.”

“She’s nodding here next to me, she knows.”

“Well then, I suggest getting together what you want as the official line and we will keep it ready.” Luke’s smile was blatant down the phone. “This is, without a doubt, far saner Tom, honestly. She...I think she is what you’ve been so sure you could not find, so don’t be an idiot and look after this, right?”

“Okay, I hear you.” Tom grinned.

“There is one thing I am concerned for, though, her home, is it safe? I mean is it properly secured, has she a high wall and gates on it?”

Tom thought it an odd question. “She has a basic wall, about five foot or so at the front and no gate.”

“She’s going to have to get it more secured, they are not supposed to enter her property, but let’s face it, Pap’s are bottom feeders,” Luke explained.

Tom looked to the side where Elle was chewing on her bottom lip apprehensively. “Okay, we’ll get on that.” He informed Luke. “But for the time being, she is going to be in London with me, she wants to study more and her work is based in London studio’s for the new few months.”

“Well, all things considered, that is actually safer for her, but it heightens the risk of you being seen together.”

“Hence the phone call.”

“So long as you are both aware this could erupt at any time and as long as you are both prepared for that, then send on everything you wish to be publicised and I will have it ready to go at the first sign of a story,” Luke instructed.

“Will do, thanks, Luke.”

“Anytime, I also am going to need Ms Hughes’ phone number, and give her mine, if she has any issue…”

“Of course, right away.” Tom agreed.

“Then enjoy your holidays and I will see you on New Years?”

“I said I would be there.”

“And Ms Hughes?”

“Her name is Danielle, Luke, you are going to have to start calling her by it, and I will extend the invitation, should she wish to go.”

“Good, well, have a nice day Tom.”

“You too.” Tom smiled as he hung up the phone. “Luke is having a get together for clients and friends on New Years, I promised weeks ago I would go if you’d rather stay home…”

“Where is it on?”

“Private venue, no outsiders, no photographers, underground carpark so little risk of them.”

Danielle thought for a moment before walking over to her wardrobe and looking at its contents. “I think I don’t have anything for something like that,” she frowned.

Tom walked over, and as Emma had said, right at the back were a few outfits he had never thought Danielle would wear, much less own. “Darling, I know I am sounding pushy, but I am imploring you, please,” He got on his knees as though adding dramatic effect, “Please wear this to the party.” He pointed to a dress that still had tags on it.

“Oh, Jesus, that thing.” she groaned looking at it. “I have no idea what was going through my mind buying that, I could never…”

“Darling, I am begging you, you will look ravishing in it.” His eyes glinted with honesty and arousal.

Danielle looked between him and the dress anxiously. “Okay.”

Tom rose to his feet again, an elated smile on his face. “I mean it, Elle, you will look even more gorgeous than normal, which, in itself, is a difficult feat.” He grinned. “It is classy and sexy.”

“My boobs are going to be showing.”

“Showing, but not hanging out,” Tom pointed out, before grinning wickedly. “And you already know my thoughts of these delicious assets of yours.” He cupped her breasts and bit his lip.

“Insatiable.”

“That’s Mister Insatiable to you, my love.”

[writerjodie]

Preferences: How You Meet (Modern AU)

uhhh this is a really old piece of writing (from Aug. 2018) - so it doesn’t have Kass or Alexios (sorreh) I hope ya’ll enjoy! - Preferences - How You Meet (Modern) Altaïr Ibn-La-Ahad You meet in a bar late at night, long after your girlfriends have bailed and gone home. You sit alone at the dark bar, sipping your favourite drink and losing yourself in thoughts of sunny beaches and handsome men. You're so lost you fail to notice a certain beautiful man slide up beside you. "You, um, want another?" He elbows you and nods at your drink, gaining a nod from you in response. "Not seen you here before, sweetheart, what's your name?" You ask, smiling up at the kind stranger. "Altaïr, and you are?" He pays for your drink and hands it to you, settling onto a stool beside you. "(Name),"you smirk at him, taking a sip of your drink in what you hope is a seductive way. Needless to say, by the end of the night you two are strangers no more - and he even leaves with your number and a promise to text you in the morning. You grin to yourself as you stumble out into the dawning streets, you have a feeling you'll be seeing a lot more of this Altaïr.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze 

(Bc Ezio would totally be a model) You had seen Ezio’s pictures in magazines, and it was your dream as a model to work alongside him, but you’d never considered it would ever happen - no, not until your agent called you about a wedding photo shoot. The dresses you were to model were new takes on traditional styles, experiments with new colours and fabrics, they tell you. In fact, the first dress you try on you love so much you almost want to get married to any old stranger just to wear it. As you make your way to the set for the photo shoot, a familiar accented voice calls out to you. "My, if I had known I would be working with such a bella donna today I would have tried harder," Ezio calls out to you, a mocking pout on his plush lips. "Ezio stop jesting, you always look immaculate! Nice to see you again, its been a long time," you chuckled back, disappointed when your conversation is cut short by the photographer calling you to action. Most of the shots are generic, run of the mill poses, until you get to the final shot. "Now, look in love! Kiss!" The photographer calls, and you feel your cheeks burn with the thought of Ezio kissing you. "Finally!" Ezio sighs, before pulling you into a soft embrace, his lips plastered onto yours.

Ratonhnhakè:ton | Connor Kenway It was your first day as a volunteer at Davenport Animal Sanctuary. As a child your parents had told you about the Sanctuary's work, and you had been distraught to find that it had closed down and left to ruin for several years. Despite that setback, the Sanctuary reopened three weeks prior to your arrival, thanks to the help of a local young man - known to the masses as Connor. "(Name), I presume?" A sweet looking man waves at you, "Welcome to Davenport," "You must be Connor! It is a pleasure to be here, and I think it's wonderful what you're doing here," you shake his hand eagerly, finding yourself extremely excited to start your work here. Connor looks as if he doesn't expect your compliment, for his cheeks quickly redden and he blinks a few times in surprise. "Thank you, (name), follow me to the manor, I need to talk through insurance with you then you can begin work. I think you are with me today," he lumbers off on his large legs, beckoning you to follow. Excited, you skip behind him and try not to stare at his beautiful face for too long. Oh yes, you are going to be so happy here.

Edward Kenway Sighing, you glare down at the bulky life jacket around your midriff. There was no point in you being here anyway, you have no interest in sailing whatsoever, you're just here out of politeness after you won a few free sailing lessons. "Ready for your lesson, Lass?" the voice of who you presume to be your instructor appears out of nowhere, causing to you turn around to find him. Once you turn, it is as if the whole world stops on its axis. Your breath, laden with the salty tang of the sea, catches in your throat as if unable to escape. Widening, your eyes take in the sight of the man, who ticks every single box ever. Sandy blonde hair? Check! Sun kissed skin? Check! Tattoos? Obviously! Muscles that only a GOD could possess? You bet your damn toenails he has them. Swallowing, you attempt to speak to him, only to stand their with your mouth flapping like a fish. "Oh...I tend to have that effect on lots of people," he smirks at you, holding his hand out for you to shake it, "The name's Edward Kenway, by the way. Shall we be starting?" Dumbfounded, you follow Edward onto the little boat where you will start your lesson. Oh...maybe you do have an interest in sailing now.

Arno Dorian (Sorry but Dorian would totally be that irresponsible carer, who somehow keeps all the children alive) This softè baguette works in the nursery down the road from you, a nursery which your little sibling attends every day. Each night they come home, telling you stories of Arno, and each day you think about what he would be like to meet. Luckily, your mother sent you to pick up your little sibling from nursery, giving you a chance to finally meet the famous Arno Dorian. "Are you not too young to have children, mon amour?" A sickly sweet voice welcomes you into the foyer of the nursery, a voice belonging to none other than Arno Dorian. "Oh, no she's only my sister," you stammer, holding the hand of your sister as Arno approaches. Your sister seems to approve of this action, and she turns to Arno with a smile. "Mister Dorian! I've told (name) all about you! I think you two should get married!" Your sister squeals, sending your cheeks into a flurry of burning embarrassment. "What? I barely know him!" You squeak as your sister laughs on. Lucky Arno is unfazed by the whole ordeal, and shoots you a crooked grin. "Well, I would have to take you for dinner first, at the very least. Is tomorrow okay?" He winks at you, sending your sister into overdrive. "Uh...yeah, sure," you stammer out, before scooping your sister up and skipping out of there. "(Name) has a boyfriend! (Name) has a boyfriend!" Your sister giggles and squirms in your arms. You can't help but smile...maybe you do have a boyfriend.

Jacob Frye The Rook, what a nice name for a pub. At least, it's better than the last one, the Blight. Damn suitable name too. Since the pub changed hands, and was swiftly refurnished, you decided to try out the new bar to see if the landlord was any better than the last. "Why on earth did you buy a pub, Jacob? You don't know anything about running a business!" Someone argues from inside, but you ignore it and take the plunge through the door anyway. "I know a lot about drinking, and a lot of that happens in pubs," the response comes, stopping short when you enter, "Ah! My first customer! Welcome to the Rook! What can I get you?" He continues. "Just a rum and coke please, it's been a long day," you chuckle, settling down into the first seat you see as one of the pair get to work behind the bar. Even in the dim light of the pub you can tell he's handsome, with a swagger and smirk to match. "Welcome, I'm Evie Frye," the woman who was arguing first sits down beside you, "That, over there, is my brother, Jacob Frye. He's the landlord," Accepting your drink from Jacob, you laugh as he pours himself a drink and joins you. "Jacob! You can't drink on the job," Evie sighs, rubbing her face into her hands. Raising his brows, Jacob shrugs at you, glass in hand. "Where's the fun in running a pub then, dear sister," he laughs, downing the whole glass in one go. As the night crawls on, more and more customers join you until the whole ordeal turns into a jolly drinking competition - which you obviously won.

Evie Frye (The cliche hurt in this one....but I love Evie) Libraries, oh how you love them. Their wall burst with undiscovered adventures and unstarted quests, just waiting for you to stumble across them. Turning away from the bookshelf, you accidentally walk straight into another girl, sending her armful of books scattering across the floor. "I am SO sorry! Let pick them up for you!" You bend down and scramble for the books, hoping your blush is hidden from sight. Alas, fortune is not in your favour today, for when you stand up and finally get a good look at her, your blush deepens at the sight of her. Pretty freckles, pursed lips, little dimples! Oh she is adorable! "Don't sweat it," the girl calls over her shoulder, already leaving the library. Oh, you might start coming to the library more often!

Bayek of Siwa (I have yet to explore AC:Origins yet, please forgive me if Bayek is out of character) Smiling, you tickle the eagle some more. It's absurd really, how such a graceful bird of prey is reduced to a soft sweetheart once you give her a few tickles. You continue for some time, uttering soft words at the bird as you go, until a voice begins to speak. "She is a beautiful bird, no?" Someone asks, and you look up to see none other than Medjay Bayek of Siwa. "My apologies, Medjay, I did not know she belongs to you," you stutter, knowing full well the man could kill you at any second. He waves his hand at you, as if batting away your apology. "Her name is Senu, by the way. Come, hold out your arm," he whistles, and Senu sets of flying until she is soaring far above your heads. "Keep your arm still," he orders, whistling again at his eagle. With a swish of her wings, Senu has rapily descended and landed with a satisfying ploof on your arm. Eyes wide, the stare at the bird close up now, and Senu stares back, seemingly giving her approval. "She likes you, may I have your name?" Bayek asks, sending the bird soaring high again. "(Name)," you smile, casting your eyes away from his. "Well, (name), it has been a please meeting you, I hope our paths may cross again," Bayek finalises, before waving and heading back into his house. Excited, you run back to your house, replaying the meeting over and over in your head.

Shay Cormac (I can so imagine Shay on a motorbike...in all his leather gear...oh lord I need a cold shower) Distracted by your phone, you don’t look properly when you cross the road - resulting in you nearly getting ran over by a flash motorcycle. Frozen in shock on the curb edge, you nearly drop your phone as you watch the bike wobble a little as it comes to a stop, the rider kicking on the breaks and hopping off to check you. His words come out muffled, forcing him to repeat himself once he removes the helmet from his head.

“You alright lass?” he asks, his dark eyes searching you for scratches. God - he is good looking.

“Y-yeah,” you stammer, “Are you? I should’ve looked where I was going,”

He merely nods, confirming he is unscathed. Biting your lip, you watch him stride back over to his bike, his broad shoulders encapsulated in the shiny leather of his jacket. With a wave of farewell to you, he puts on his helmet and kicks the bike into action once more - speeding down the road in a flurry of dust. Afterwards, every time you hear the roar of a motorbike, you can’t help but wonder if it’s the chocolate eyed stranger, you wouldn’t mind running into him again...

Haytham Kenway Your first day as cafe manager was mostly uneventful...that's if we gloss over the poor lad who spilt his tea all over the floor in protest at something his father said. "Oh for God's sake Connor," he mutters, trying to mop up the spillage with a napkin. "Don't worry about it! It's what we're here for!" You chirp, sliding over to the table with a proper cloth, "Can I get you a replacement tea?" "No, thank you, I was just leaving," the younger one, Connor storms out, leaving you and the mam to clean up the mess. "Teenagers, eh?" You chuckle, wiping away the last of the tea. "Yes...quite," the man looks at you for a second,"I presume you are the new manager here? Do you know what happened to the last one?" "Oh, yes Ziio left for another coffee shop, were you two friends?" You ask, picking up the discarded tea cup. "No no, we just knew each other. Haytham Kenway, by the way," he holds out his hand for you to shake, before swiftly departing from the shop - no doubt to look for his son. "Strange," you utter, heading back to tills with the tea.

[docholligay]

Support has Arrived

themiscyra1983 replied to your post “What if I did some fluff (hypothetically) prompts tomorrow? Would...”

Mercy and Emily hanging out! It feels like they'd be on a similar wavelength, they both have high-strung partners in different ways, and I like the idea that Emily has formed her own friendships with Tracer's friends and coworkers.

I hope I did okay, it’s my first time writing these two together, so FINDING MY FEET. 2,300 words. All of my OW universe is here, this takes place after Powerless. 

Pharah was a worrier.

She would never herself have phrased it that way, and if Mercy had put it that way to her, she would have wrinkled her lip in a light scowl, in the way she always did before she took issue with something, shake her head, and tell Mercy that wasn’t true at all, she was no nervous person. But you did not have to quake and shiver to be a worrier, and it was true that Pharah did not sit anxiously, biting her nails and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Instead, she took the shoe out of the hands of whomever might drop it, made herself responsible for the maintenance of all shoes, and refused to delegate much more than whose job it was to turn out the light.

Pharah had a gift for overextending herself and weakness for trusting others with any responsibility. Pharah was loving and steady and conscientious. Pharah would do anything for Mercy, before she even asked, and if Mercy ever had to ask Pharah would count herself a failure and write it down in another line of her Book of Responsibilities, so she would never forget again. Mercy loved Pharah more than she could possibly say, and Pharah had healed her in ways that she had not even known she was broken.

And Angela Ziegler was going to get off of the couch, weak as she was, and murder Fareeha Amari with her bare hands.

It was not that Mercy did not understand. She had come very close to death, and it would be a long, slow recovery, and even as Mercy sat reading her own medical records, she wondered if she would ever be well enough to return to the field. She had frightened Pharah terribly, whatever little Pharah had said about it, and Pharah’s reluctance to leave the house was just another responsibility she gave herself. If Pharah was there, no one would hurt mercy. Not while she still breathed.

But however much she understood, Pharah’s hovering and insistence that Mercy could not so much as sit and read her medical records for more that thirty minutes at a time, despite the fact that Mercy was the one with a medical degree, and felt she knew fairly well the limits of her health, was putting her quite on the edge of her sanity.

She could not tell Pharah to go away for a bit, and the thought of even doing so sent a pang through Mercy’s heart. It was only that Pharah loved her. She could not reject that.

But what she could do, was send a text to Tracer saying Pharah seemed like she might wear a hole in the floor for pacing, and hope that Tracer’s agile little mind would come to a solution.

Help arrived the next day, with a tiny Brit practically bursting through the front door with a bright smile on her face, a workout bag slung over each shoulder.

“Fareeha!” She jumped into the living room, “ere to rescue you, I am. Been without a proper bit of exercise for weeks now--”

“When did we give you a key?” Pharah leaned over the back of the couch where she had been standing by the window.

“--Ang gave me one, don’t interrupt--and isn’t you always saying we ‘ave to be all tip-top, first class, ready for anything? I thought as you might forget that, things being as they are, but--”

“You must let Pharah say yes, if she’s to join you.” Emily gave a giggle from where she was removing her shoes in the entryway, and walked into the living room, kissing Tracer on the head when she reached her.

“Was getting to it.” Tracer nodded “Come on then, ‘ave your bag,” she shrugged her right shoulder, as if Pharah could not see the tag on it herself, “Did the washing for it and everything.”

Pharah shook her head. “Angela still needs--”

“Oh, I’m to stay with her,” Emily gave her shy smile and sat down on the little chair near the window, “You and Lena can go on.” Pharah did not respond, and Emily gave a small nod, “Amn’t I trustworthy?”

“It is not that.” Pharah sighed, “if someone were to--”

“Jesse’s out front there!” Tracer bounced toward Pharah and extended the bag, “Owes me a favor or two, e does, but I will e never does argue the point.” She chuckled, “‘ad to ‘ave ‘im take a bit of an ‘oliday from punching Gabe in the face, as it was. Think ‘e’s working out some emotional issues, tried to tell ‘im there are some lovely therapists in town…., “She looked at Pharah, “well, anyhow, I’m...talk to ‘ear me own voice sometimes, don’t I then, love?”

Pharah’s face had darkened, and grown solemn. Gabri--Reaper, he was, now, was still to be dealt with, held in their cell in the basement of Winston’s home. She had tried not to think about it, the man she had thought of as an uncle, and what he had become. What he had done.

Mercy touched her arm. “Go on.”

Tracer brightened up again, and tossed the bag at Pharah, who caught it with one hand. “I’ve an idea. I’ll run, and if you catch me, you can pummel me, right?”

“I will never run so fast in my life.” She slung the bag over her shoulder and looked down at Mercy, stroking her hair. “You will call me?”

“I do not think I will be needing to call you. But I would.”

Pharah nodded, licking her lip and thinking a moment, then sighed, kissed Mercy tenderly, and headed for the door.

She pushed Tracer playfully as they walked toward the entryway. “You should hope you run fast.”

“Fareeha, love, I know I run fast.”

They left, and Mercy relaxed a little against the high pile of pillows Pharah had arranged on the couch. Tracer was good for her. It was difficult to be too caught up in her own thoughts, the way Tracer needled her and played with her. Mercy had always thought their Overwatch had succeeded when the other had failed, because love had been added. Each of them were members of a family, more than an organization.

The thought made her remember that it was only a few weeks ago, just before all this had happened, where they had been together celebrating Tracer and Emily’s wedding.

“You’ve no need to entertain me, if ye do get a wee bit tired.”

Mercy turned to her voice, and Emily sat perched still on the little chair, her red hair tied back and glistening even in the tiny and sparse patches of London sunlight, her eyes soft and kind, as they always were. When she noticed that Mercy had turned, she got up and walked over to the end of the couch, settling in there, realizing even before Mercy had that it would be less tiring for her to sit straight.

“This should not be your honeymoon.” Mercy smiled apologetically.

Emily shook her head. “Och, we have the rest of our lives, don’t we?” She smiled brightly. “Hana’s gifted us a holiday together, once it all is a bit more settled.”

“I used to say you should not be giving someone so young so much money, but,” Mercy gave a soft shrug, “she is kinder with it than most would be.”

Emily nodded happily. “I dunna think she’d ever say so.”

“And she would call me a liar for saying it is true.” Mercy looked over to the photo on the back wall, all of them tucked tightly together in front of the unimpressive building that was their headquarters, taken the first day they came to London. “But she is kind.”

“Oh!” Emily got up and padded back to the doorway, grabbing a large bag she’d left there. “Had a thought,. It’s only from something Lena told me, when she was hurt, so if ye’d rather no, I understand.”

She set the bag down on the coffee table, and unloaded a large bowl, a towel, pitcher, and a small bottle of shampoo, decorated with flowers up the side.

Mercy was not about to cause herself the pain of reaching up to touch her hair, but she knew it must be limp and greasy, tied in a loose bun on her head. Emily had always been a favorite of Mercy’s. She was quiet and kind and calm, a perfect match for Tracer’s expressive vibrancy and volume, and the way she loved Tracer came out in every thing that she ever did. But as much as she had loved her before, Mercy was not certain she ever had, or ever would again, love her as much as this moment.

She blushed slightly. “It should be very dirty.”

Emily set the towel down next to Mercy and smiled, giving a little giggle. “Day before last, a student handed me a dead bird. Bit of grease to your hair won’t phase me. Would you like it?” She looked at Mercy, waiting. Emily would never have done anything without anyone’s okay, if they were not sure, if they were uncomfortable.

“Please.” She hoped she looked as grateful as she felt, in that moment.

Emily popped over to the kitchen, only a few steps away, and began to let the water come to temperature. It was funny, Mercy often thought, that so many of them fell in love with someone in the same business, in the constant danger, because it was easier to be understood. There were things you did not have to say. But Tracer had often dated civilians, because Tracer was the bravest person she knew. Tracer was not afraid to explain herself, to give words to the things she’d been through, and hope another person could understand. Maybe because there was no one quite like her, even in their work.

But Emily had been brave, too. She was a beautiful woman, with a good job and a gentle heart, but instead of picking a suitor who she might have had an easy life with, one where they came home at safe hours and where the news was not frightening, she had chosen Tracer. Because she loved her. Because she refused to settle for a candle when she could have a firework, whatever the risks. And she had done it all quite calmly.

Mercy admired her.

Emily carefully set the full bowl down on the table, and then took a few of the pillows out from behind Mercy slowly, taking the bowl and easing her hair into it. She massaged the warm water deep into the roots, and Mercy felt the comfort of it wash over her, closing her eyes and enjoying the knowledge that not only was she being helped, but her wife, as well. It felt nice to know Pharah was cared for, when she could not do it herself.

“And how is your married life?” She felt Emily smile even with her eyes closed, “Barely a month in?”

Emily squirted a bit of shampoo into her hands and rubbed it firmly into Mercy’s hair, the rose and violet of the thick, rich shampoo filling the air. She must have gone to special trouble,because of course she did. That was Emily’s way.

“Not much has changed, I suppose,” she took out the shampoo to the tips, “Lena is still my lovely, we stay in the same house.” she chuckled, “Haven’t yet told my parents I’m taking Lena’s name over mine. My brother, Owen, he approves. He’s always thought kindly of Lena”

“I am sure the Oxtons were delighted, however, to make you one of their own.”

“Amn’t they over everything, though?” Emily giggled, happily this time, her parents’ light shadow over marrying Tracer forgotten in the joy of Tracer’s family for them both.

Mercy gave a soft, small, laugh. “It is true.”

The pitcher rinsed her hair, and Mercy felt the grease and grime fall out of it, wondering if it had lightened three shades in the course of a moment. It was an exquisite gift, and one that no one had thought to give, even with all the casseroles Jack had brought, the laundry service D.va sent, and even Ana’s neatly wrapped gift of fresh pajamas and baklava from the Middles Eastern bakery, freshly made, which was not so much for her as for Pharah, but Mercy would rather Ana gift her, anyhow.

Emily gently teased out Mercy’s hair with a wide-tooth comb, slicking the water out of each bit as well as she could.

“Fareeha must be driving you right mad.” She whispered conspiratorially. “I canna be too judgmental, for I know I’ve been the same with Lena, but I know I’ve driven her right mad.”

“Yes!” Mercy gave a laugh so sharp it hurt, and she had to catch her breath for a moment. She continued, softer, “She is so protective and kind, but I do not need the supervision so constantly.”

Emily nodded as she reached for the towel. “A regular border collie needing a job, is our Fareeha.”

Our Fareeha. It did Mercy’s heart such good to hear those things. As she awoke from her injuries, days after, the haze still settling over her, her first thought had been of Pharah. What would become of her if Mercy was lost. How she would always worry that her determined and dedicated wife would take that hurt and turn it into overwork, into procedure, into long nights spent studying engineering and strategy as her only protection against the loneliness.

But today, Emily and Tracer had proven it didn’t need to happen. They would care for Pharah, in their complementary, utterly opposite ways.

Pharah was a worrier, and nothing would change that, but as Emily gently braided her hair, Mercy remembered that they both had love beyond each other, a sprawling family that would catch them when they fell, and Mercy worried just a little less.

[alexandrereyes]

Wedding Day | Abbi & Andre

Abbi & Andre's Wedding