#she silently walks away at first but then relents because cuddles are nice

[lady-charinette]

Tamaki Amajiki x F!GirlfriendReader - Tamaki working out and getting a late night visitor.

Rated: NSFW

Warning: Mild dirty talk, public sex, cock riding, sex after workout. (I'm an embarrassing beginner at writing smut so...the cringe!)

Not in the Gym

Tamaki Amajiki was one of the Big Three at U.A.

Studious, punctual and with a mastery over his quirk that was on par with a pro's.

Tamaki Amajiki was one of the Big Three and yet he was also the possibly shiest individual at U.A. trying to back out of interviews and press conferences that made him stand out too much as much as his work - or Fatgum - allowed.

That was more of his mentor's thing, Fatgum had always handled the publicity and interviews and questions, even Kirishima from time to time, but Tamaki simply couldn't.

Nevertheless, the possibly shiest individual at U.A. also had a girlfriend.

That had come as a shock to his peers and the younger students. To Mirio and Nejire, it had only been a matter of time. They'd had known for a while the shift in atmosphere between the two of them, whenever his adorable girlfriend would walk next to him and offer silent support during one of Tamaki's staring contests with the wall around crowds.

During or after lengthy, taxing battles. She was there, ready to lend support, to help and protect him.

Lately, villains had started biding their time, their appearances rarer and rarer except for the small fry that tried to survive still scuffling through the streets. Still, schoolwork increased and Tamaki didn't have as much time to commit to training.

Despite his shy demeanor and general usage of his quirk, there was an astounding amount of people that thought him to be weak.

No, not in quirk.

In physical strength.

While his quirk didn't rely as much on strength like Mirio's for prolonged fights or agility like Nejire's, Tamaki still had to train.

It was a thing he'd picked up from Eraser, someone who possesses a quirk with too many cons, should have a trick up his sleeve.

Tamaki's was weekly visits to the gym.

At night.

He was thankful he could use the U.A. gym when either all the students were in their dorms or already asleep, principal Nezu had been understanding enough to offer him a special permit and Tamaki had sent a gift basket in gratitude, too shy to actually confront the small rodent principal himself despite his size.

The weights seemed heavier than they used to the last time he was here, which had been...a while.

It didn't help that his hero agency largely consisted of individuals who loved to consume as much food as possible, it also didn't help he needed to eat large quantities of food himself to utilize his quirk effectively.

It also didn't help his girlfriend being a food lover too, cooking any time she had the chance or buying sweets at a candy shop. Tamaki loved her sweet tooth, while it wasn't quite practical for his quirk, he enjoyed to indulge from time to time.

The question his girlfriend mostly asked was 'Can your arms turn into lollipops? Or your hair?'

Nejire, his far too curious and open-minded friend, had directed the innocent questions into dangerous territory.

'Huh? His arms? Don't you wanna know if he can turn other body parts into a lollipop-' thankfully, Mirio had mercifully dragged the babbling girl away, just to save a very red faced Tamaki the humiliation.

Unfortunately, his girlfriend was perceptive and had figured out very quickly what Nejire had tried to insinuate.

The reaction had been as mortified as his own, if only because they were in public. He wasn't quite sure what her reaction would've been in the privacy of their own home.

Tamaki tried to ignore the burning tips of his ears to the burning in his arms, trying to lift the heavy metal weights above his head.

He could just use his tentacles, but it wouldn't be very effective, especially the small plate of takoyaki he'd ate for dinner. Not that that was the whole reason he was in here in the first place, he needed to build up strength in his own body, not his quirk.

Tamaki panted, gritting his teeth at the strain before he dropped the weights carefully to the mat and moving over to the next equipment, the running track.

Twenty minutes in and his legs were already burning, screaming to stop, but he stubbornly pushed forward, eyes fixated on a point in the wall.

He hadn't even heard the double doors opening or closing.

He hadn't heard the footsteps that slowly padded towards him.

But he did hear the soft voice calling out to him. "Tamaki~"

The clumsy jump and the higher pitched yelp he released echoed within the vacant room as he fell on his butt, hissing at the burning in his muscles "Ow!"

Tiredly, Tamaki glanced up at none other than his girlfriend, an apologetic expression on her face as she quickly kneeled next to him on the floor. "Oh my goodness, Tama, I-I'm so sorry!" her hands squeezed his arms and grabbed his face, thumbs rubbing his cheeks gently.

His cheeks burned, they were already red with extortion from training, but now a different kind of heat filled his cheeks at his girlfriend's soft touch and nice smell he recognized was from her shampoo. She must've showered earlier.

"Y-You scared me, Y/N." he breathed deeply, chest heaving before he shook his head and gently squeezed her hands on his face. "I-I'm fine." she nodded, still with a apologetic look.

"I should've called earlier, I'm sorry. I got worried when you didn't come home yet. Eraser said you'd be here."

Of course, Eraserhead was still awake, that man loved sleep but he was on watch duty for the first years as much as he heard. Some outdoor scuffle or other between two students of class 1-A.

A brief glance at the clock told him it was late, eleven p.m.

He got off the floor with the help of the woman already dressed in her cute PJ's. "I-I'm sorry, I should've told you I'd be late."

It had been almost two years since them sharing living quarters together, it had been nerve wracking for the both of them, especially when they started sharing a single bed too.

That had only been a year ago, but it had surprised Tamaki how astonishingly easy it was to be beside her on the soft bed, talking to each-other until they were too tired to continue or cuddling each-other into sleep.

She shook her head, flashing a brilliant smile at him. "It's alright." she glanced at the sweater he'd shed while working out, becoming far too hot in it. "You did mention you'd work out with Mirio though." She turned her head this way and that but failed to spy their other friend.

Tamaki rubbed the back of his neck, sitting down on a bench and gulping down a generous amount of water. "He...he couldn't come, he had a mission with his agency, something about patrol duty."

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself and shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Tamaki watched her from the corner of his eye, recognizing her fidgeting.

Nervousness.

"Is...is something wrong?" worry rooted itself deep in his heart and the hero in training waited with baited breath for his girlfriend's answer.

She bit her lip, like she always did when she was worried but didn't want to say it. "Y/N?"

At her boyfriend's prompting, she finally relented. "Um...I was...I uh-" she rarely ever got tongue tied around him, only when people made crude jokes when they were both present, but her behavior now seemed odd.

Tamaki stood up on wobbly legs, placing his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them gently, reassuringly. "You can tell me, you know. Just like you said I can tell you anything."

At that, she seemed to relax, shoulders sagging in defeat, before her gaze met his. "I'm sorry I know you have to train and that ever since work with Fatgum increased and you guys have been on edge because of suspicious villain activity that you just couldn't....really come home as often or have free time and I completely understand if you-" she continued on, lost in her speedy mess of words as she often did whenever she was nervous.

Tamaki adored that aspect of her, they were both shy people, him more so than her, but she was nervous in different ways that channeled his confidence to come out to reassure her.

He cut her off with a tight hug, chin resting on top of her head and arms holding gently onto her waist and upper back. "T-Tama?"

The woman in his arms relaxed into his hold, but he sensed the confusion rolling off her in waves. Tamaki sighed deeply, nuzzling his head against hers. "So that's what you were worried about..." he mumbled into her hair, closing his eyes to inhale the mild shampoo. "I'm sorry for...for making you feel this way, Y/N. I-I should've paid more attention to you and-"

She suddenly broke free of his hug, hands splayed over his chest, a weak glare on her face. "No! No, no, no! I'm fine Tamaki, I just- ugh I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to make you feel guilty, I was just..." she sighed helplessly.

Tamaki shook his head, leaning forward to gently kiss her forehead. "Nonsense. I think I know what you wanted to say...trust me, I've been feeling the same. " he awkwardly gazed off to the side. "Um...I was...I wanted to spend more time with you, but I-I also didn't want to let Fatgum and Kirishima down and classes started p-piling up and..." he finally lifted his intense gaze back down to her and smiled wirly. "I'm sorry Y/N."

His girlfriend sighed but smiled warmly, shaking her head. "I'm sorry too Tama." she leaned forward and nuzzled her nose against his, making him smile at the cute gesture.

The couple stared at each-other for a while longer, until Tamaki's eyes strayed to her lips. 

He swallowed, a brilliant blush moving from the tips of his ears down to his neck. His girlfriend immediately noticed the shifting air between them and giggled, a blush of her own on her cheeks. "Y-You...you know if you want to kiss me just do it..." when his head whipped to her at the speed of light, he felt her lips meet his in a light sweet kiss.

A sigh of contentment left both their lips and he felt her arms loop around his neck, playing with his sweat soaked hair. Tamaki's own grip tightened around her back, drawing her closer to him.

He broke the kiss when he felt her hands slowly glide down his shirt. "W-Wait." she froze, eyes wide in fear of doing something wrong. His larger hands squeezed hers gently to calm her down. "I-I didn't shower."

Her boyfriend's embarrassed mumbles prompted a laugh out of her throat, before her gaze turned half-lidded and she looked him from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. Tamaki only blushed harder at her open ogling, trying to hide himself with his hair, until a gentle hand brushed it back. "I don't mind at all, Tama, besides you... kind of look even hotter after training."

His entire face could've exploded like one of Bakugou's explosions right then and there, but his girlfriend silenced his nervous sputters with a deeper kiss.

Despite his heart racing a mile a minute, Tamaki's hands easily found his girlfriend's hips and pulled her tightly to himself, a groan rumbling in the back of his throat when she bucked her hips against his suggestively.

Wait...

Tamaki panted against her lips, dark eyes drinking in her form hungrily. "Th-The door..."

The mischievous twinkle in her eye made him feel mildly nervous. "Locked." she captured his lips in a searing kiss again, mumbling between kisses. "Thought....you wanted....some privacy."

The hero was too worked up to properly think if his girlfriend had somehow planned this, or simply cared for his desire for privacy.

He staggered back, his legs still burning from training and his girlfriend broke their heated lip lock to smirk up at him with a fierce blush. "Trained too hard?" far too flustered for words, Tamaki only nodded. "...Hmm..." she looked around curiously, a small giggle leaving her lips. "What about..." her eyes lightened up with joy when spying the weight machine with the seat, immediately backing her staggering boyfriend onto the bench with the weights attached to cables behind him.

His eyes flew open once he was seated, a question burning on the tip of his tongue before his girlfriend suddenly sat right on top of him, her legs spread on either side of his hips and directly over his-

"W-W-Wh-!" Tamaki felt lightheaded at the blood rushing through his body, obviously not being able to decide whether to travel south or all up to his head. "A-Are you sure?! Ww-we have a bed and- and-"

The positively excited look she shot him made something else on his body react in excitement and Tamaki hid his face. "C'mon Tama! We never tried it outside before! Besides, everyone's asleep, Eraser's too busy babysitting the first years to care to check on us." she winked, eyes back to mentally undressing him before she actually did.

His whole body shook in embarrassment, embarrassed at his own increasing excitement at the prospect of doing something so intimate outside of the safety of their bedroom.

It seemed like the woman stop him noticed it too, if the sudden jump her hips made and the cherry red color of her face was any indication. "W-Wow, I-I didn't know you'd be this excited Tamaki." her surprised but delighted gaze met the hands of her boyfriend desperately trying to hide his expression.

She laughed and pried his hands away, settling them on her hips instead. His eyes refused to look at her, fixated on a point to the side. "Tama~" she called his name in a sing-song voice, fingers gently poking his cheek. "Aw, Tamaki, I'm happy you're reacting this way! You know how happy I always get when you want me too!" Her hips experimentally bucked against the prominent hardness beneath her, her insides clenching pleasantly at the constant pressure on her clothed core.

He took a shaky breath, eyes closing briefly before his purple eyes suddenly stared straight at her.

Intense.

She gently slapped his shoulder. "S-Stop trying to imagine me with a potato head!"

She knew all of her boyfriend's "embarrassment-evading" tactics.

She normally found them adorable, but with her sitting on his cock, craving for her hero really didn't fit in this situation-

"I-I'm not imagining you as a potato..." her eyes flew open when she felt his hands gently begin to rub her hips, her fingers squeezing his shoulders reflexively at the intimate touch.

"W-Wha-" her voice died down when her boyfriend suddenly righted himself, still sitting on the bench but looking down at her intensely, lips trembling just the tiniest bit.

"I-I imagined you in your underwear but-but that didn't really help..." if the throbbing beneath her was any indication, it helped in a different way.

The woman froze on his lap, flabbergasted at the dirty confession that slipped from her shy boyfriend's mouth. "Y-Y/N?" At his confused mumble, she came back to her senses.

She slapped her hands to her red face, turning her head away from the intense stare of her boyfriend. "T-Tamaki! Y-You-you can't just s-say stuff like that and-and oh!" she gasped at the sudden strong grip on her thighs, positioning her higher on his lap, his clothed cock brushing against her clit.

She jumped, legs squeezing his hips and he groaned, looking as red as a lobster. "W-Was that too-" his voice got muffled by her insistent kiss and Tamaki relaxed into it immediately, arms snaking around her body and pulling her closer, lips meshing together in a needy kiss.

His girlfriend's pants and wet tongue tracting his lips never failed to elicit a shiver that ran down the whole length of his spine.

Once his tongue shyly met hers, she moaned into their kiss, fingers gripping his sweaty hair and digging into his scalp.

They broke apart for air, thin strands of drool still connecting them, until Y/N licked her lips. "C-Clothes. Off." her fingers already traced down his chest and stomach to lift his shirt up.

Tamaki released a growl, the sound sending shivers down her spine. She loved her shy and sweet boyfriend, but she also loved the more daring side of him when she was able to make him completely relax and feel comfortable.

His hands slowly slid her shirt off her, her undershirt coming off with it. He licked his lips at the sight of her bra clad breasts, heaving with her pants, her own eyes feasting upon his abs.

She never could understand why her boyfriend ranted on about having to 'catch up' with training.

She was already drooling at the sight of his chiseled chest and the hard ridges of his six-pack, how much more training could he possibly-

"Ahh!" her surprised yelp echoed through the gym hall when her boyfriend's hands threw her bra off to the side. When had he even unclasped it-

She eyed his hand, morphed into a crab claw before it transformed back into his original human one.

Wait a damn min-

"Did you just snap my bra?! Tamaki!" Y/N pouted before an idea struck her. "Hey, wait, why don't you ever use your quirk on m-" her suggestion flew out the window when her boyfriend's tongue in her mouth broke her train of thought and his hands gently kneaded her breasts, drawing moans out of her.

Tamaki himself breathed deeply, trying to control his growing desire. His eyes were drawn tightly together in concentration, but the tantalizing sight of his girlfriend with her eyes closed in pleasure made him curse silently at his weakening resolve.

He groaned when he felt her hot lips trail a searing path down his skin, suckling on his pulse point and biting his jaw or throat.

His own mouth didn't remain idle, kissing her cheeks and mouth and sucking on her neck, more harshly when he felt her hands explore his torso daringly.

The things her touch did to him should've made him embarrassed, but it only fueled his desire for more.

Tamaki had been so absorbed in kissing down further and laving attention to her breasts to notice her sneaky hands working his sweatpants off.

It was only when her warm hand grabbed his hardness through his underwear that he hissed and threw his head back, cheeks pink. "Y-Y/N..."

She smiled, thumb tracing distracting circles on his weeping head. "Feeling good, Tamaki?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice to crack from the pleasurable electric bolts shooting up from his pelvis.

It had surprised him how quickly she'd ripped the rest of her clothing off her body, how intense the delectable musk off her hit his nose and made his mouth water. It was at the insistent tug on her hips that she realized the ravenous look in her boyfriend's eyes. "T-Tama..." she squealed when he surged forward and swallowed her moans in a deep kiss, hands kneading every available surface of her skin.

When his fingers gently began rubbing her trickling wetness that soaked his pants, she tore her mouth free from his. "T-Ta-Tamaki, I-I need you. Now." Her whimpers and the dazed look in her eye was all he needed to quickly take off his pants and underwear.

Once he settled back down on the bench, she climbed back onto his lap, her dripping cunt dragging along his own weeping cock. He hissed through his clenched jaw, guiding her motions on top of him. "E-Easy..." no matter how hard he tried, not even he could stave off the need to be inside her.

His fingers slowly sunk into her up to his knuckles, drawing out a long needy moan from her kiss swollen lips. "Oh-ohhh T-aaahhhmaki, I'm- I'm ready, just-just please." he shook his head, chest heaving as he continued to thrust his fingers into her burning core, his other hand gently pinching her nipple.

It was only when she grabbed his face and kissed him like her life depended on it that he slowly removed his sticky fingers from within her wet walls, watching in mild amusement and embarrassment how her eyes zeroed in on his tongue cleaning her juices off his fingers.

"T-Tamaki, I-I need you...your cock inside me...please." his cheeks darkened in desire and the indigo haired man gripped his shaft in hand, one hand steadying his girlfriend's trembling hips to guide her on top of him.

"W-Wait, l-let me-" before he could finish his sentence, she pushed him back down against the steel pole of the weight machine.

"N-No, you-you're tired from training. Let me do the work." she was flushed brilliantly from his earlier ministrations and he couldn't help but admire the way she spread her nether lips for his throbbing cock and slowly sunk down into him.

They both threw their heads back when the tip of his cock was in. It's been a while since they did this, what with Tamaki's hero work and her own studies.

"Ohhhh T-Tama..." she whined in arousal, short pants leaving her lips as she felt his thick cock spread her open. Her boyfriend wasn't only gifted with his quirk, a small fact she sometimes subtly hinted at whenever she set out to praise her boyfriend in front of others.

'Tamaki? Of course he's great! He's such a strong and gifted hero, you know? But he's also pretty gifted in other areas.'

Nejire wholeheartedly supported her deviant endeavors, with Mirio laughing and comfortingly patting his blushing friend's back.

She shivered when she felt every pulsing vein on the thick shaft entering her gushing walls, moaning when he was fully bottomed out within her.

They paused to catch their breath, Tamaki trailing soft kisses all over her face and neck, his large hands moving to brush back her hair tenderly. "A-Are you okay, Y/N?"

She nodded rapidly, hands resting on his stomach. "I should-I should be asking you that big guy. You were training when I-I- ahhh interrupted." the twitch of his cock within her made her moan, gently rocking her hips against his.

Tamaki panted heavily, fingers squeezing her hips. "Y/N..." he returned the gentle rocking motions, worry creasing his brow as he watched her expression.

She laughed shakily, feet finding purchase on the floor beside the bench. "Y-You know I love it when you stretch me out like this Tama." his cock slowly slid out of her before she moved back down, impaling herself further on his throbbing dick. "Ohhh fuck..."

Tamaki groaned, sweat trickling down the side of his face and his hands gripped her hips harder and lifted her off his soaked lap, before he slammed her down on his twitching length again. "A-Ahhh! Uh-uh oh oh!" The sound of her moans riled him up even more and Tamaki lifted his hips to meet her eager thrusts.

It always took her boyfriend a while before he shed his shy demeanor and slowly but surely grew more confident, especially the louder her moans got. "Y-Y/N, someone will...someone will hear us." he panted, fingers digging into her sides.

She licked her lips, eyes closed at the pleasurable tingles down below. "Nghh...T-Tama, everyone's aslee-oh!" she jumped, a full body shiver wracking her when she felt her boyfriend's hips suddenly surge up into her again, harder and deeper than before. "O-Oh y-yes, Tamaki that-that was good! P-Please again!"

She mewled against him, running her hands appreciatively over his body, trying to keep a shred of control within her.

Face red but eyes hooded with desire, Tamaki gripped her more securely and bucked his hips up again, another louder mewl leaving the woman on top of him. "D-Damn, you just-g-grew tighter around me...." he hissed through clenched teeth, resting his head against the wall and trying to concentrate on bringing her pleasure.

The sensation of her cunt clamping down on his sensitive arousal made him thrust harder into her, ignoring the burning of his arms and legs. "Y-You-you know..."

Her dazed eyes met his intense gaze and she felt another shiver dance through her heated skin. "This...this is..." he groaned and pulled her hips down to meet his upwards thrust. "A-Also...training!" she cried out, gripping onto his shoulders for support, panting heavily into his neck.

Tamaki hissed at the strain on his hips every time they not only lifted up to thrust but lifted his girlfriend's weight with it. "Nghhh!" he groaned at the clamping of her soft, wet walls around him.

She cried out, falling against his chest, breathing as harshly as he was. "T-Tama, t-that's it- just- just a little-! Ah!" she bit the side of his neck, trying to muffle her too loud moans into his sweaty skin, tasting the salty sheen of sweat on it.

His hips stuttered and Tamaki wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, lifting her chin to silence her moans with his mouth. "L-Let's...let's finish...t-together." he bit her bottom lip, soothing the bite with his tongue, fingers digging into her ass as he ground her harder and harder on his leaking cock. "Ngh...I'm...I'm close!"

She tore her mouth away from his, trying to suck in air while also kissing him. "M-Mmm m-me too! T-Tamaki!"

"Y-Y/N...!" His own guttural drawn out moans were muffled by her lips, hips stuttering until he finally released, her own release following shortly after if the wildly fluttering sensation of her cunt around him was any indication.

She shook in his arms like a leaf and Tamaki himself tried to ignore the trembles of his arms and legs. They rested back against the machine, the metal pole wide enough not to dig too uncomfortably into his back, but the surface was still unpleasant.

They panted heavily, trying to catch their breath. She could feel his hot cum slowly trickling out of her, his softening cock still within her sensitive cunt. "T-Tama..."

"Y-Yes?" he sounded even worse than before on the treadmill, as if he ran a marathon.

"U-Um..." she wasn't nearly as nervous and flustered as her loving boyfriend could get, but now her face was on fire. "...I-I think we need a towel."

She felt the heaving chest beneath her flushed cheek freeze, breath catching in his throat, before she slowly raised herself off his torso. Tamaki's entire face blushed a deep red, she probably didn't look any different, when they both watched his cum trickle out of her entrance where they were still joined.

"I-I'm so sorry!" Shy Tamaki was back full force, she mused with a smile.

Tamaki carefully lifted Y/N off his sensitive length, the couple groaning at the action, before he grabbed the towel he'd originally meant to use for a shower later.

Thankfully, the most mess was still on or in their bodies and not the bench, where only a small trickle had escaped. Tamaki didn't think he could ever enter this hall anymore without combusting on the spot from the memories.

He awkwardly glanced at the now dirty towel then back towards his girlfriend, who had shyly grabbed his shirt as a makeshift replacement for her own clothes. "Uh...." both blinked at each-other before they started to laugh. "Oh my goodness...I'm so..." she ran a hand down her face, legs tightly clamped shut. "S-Sorry Tama, I-I didn't mean to um..."

Tamaki cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his burning neck. "N-No, its um, I-it was my fault, I uh- I was the one who-who..." his ears looked like red christmas lights, so red that Y/N feared they would catch on fire.

She suddenly started giggling, hand covering her mouth. "We really did...make a bit of a mess huh..."

Tamaki's expression softened, sweetly pecking her forehead. His face was still dark pink but he chuckled softly, helping his girlfriend clean up and dress so they could go home.

Thanks for reading! :)

[lone-survivor-six-tales]

Ain’t That A Shot in The Head Ch.5

"You look bored as hell."

Arcade looked up from the faded Programmer's Digest magazine he was reading when Six approached with a bag full of medical supplies for Julie. After helping Julie restock the Followers' supply cache she went to sit down with Arcade who was trying to get ED-E to stop trying to cuddle with him.

"I think he likes you." Six laughed when Arcade almost lost his glasses to a particularly hard nuzzle to the face.

"I wish he didn't. You'd think he thought he was a dog or something." Arcade grumbled, adjusting his glasses while ED-E returned to Six's side.

"Hey speaking of dogs. I'm taking The King's dog to get a new brain. Want to come with?" She asked, giving ED-E a pat on the top of his body. "Since Boone is stuck in bed, I could use the company."

"Why would I want to go galavanting around the desert looking for a brain for a dog?" He asked, brow raised as he stood up, stuffing the magazine in his coat pocket.

"Because you've been reading the same magazine for the past two days and look like you need to shoot something?"

Arcade sighed at the grin on her face. He only knew her for two days now and yet he knew that grin meant she won. "Point taken, let's go."

--------------------------------------------------

"So let me get this straight." Arcade said, sitting on a stack of tires while Six checked the jar containing the replacement brain for Rex in her bag. Before he could continue, Six piped up with a smirk.

"You? Straight? That's hilarious."

"Shut up before I drink your last sunset sarsaparilla," he replied before continuing. "You have amnesia due to your shot in the head but remember you lived in a vault, most likely in the Capital Wasteland, travelled with a ghoul and most likely traveled with him to New Vegas before getting shot for the package you were delivering."

"That's pretty much it. I don't know for sure if he came with me but I get the feeling that he did. I just hope the bastard that shot me didn't do anything to him." Six sighed, whistling for Rex to return to her side after wandering off to sniff a cactus. Arcade was silent as Six gave Rex some of her water. When Six looked back at him she could see something was troubling him.

"Arcade? You alright?"

Arcade quickly looked up and shook his head, dispersing the thoughts that ran through his head. "Yeah, just thinking." He stood up to join Six and Rex as they continued their walk to Jacobstown where Six found a doctor that could replace Rex's brain. The walk to Jacobstown was mostly quiet save for the usual attack by bandits and creatures which were quickly dealt with by Six and her improved rifle. Soon The silence was broken by Six with a tentative question.

"How did you know you like guys, Arcade?"

The question surprised him, not expecting such a question out of nowhere and it took him a moment before he could reply.

"Can't remember exactly when it happened but I started realizing I enjoyed the companionship of men over women sometime around my twenties. What brought this up?"

Six looked away, kicking a stray pebble that skipped ahead of them before rolling into a hole in the asphalt. "I just remembered something I said in one of my memories. I said something about being forced to have a kid to continue the population. While I definitely didn't like that idea, I felt like there was something I wasn't telling my dad. I mean, I know I like guys and girls but the thought of having a kid with someone I didn't even like? It just felt wrong."

"To be fair if someone shoved me into a room and told me to make a kid I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be up for it either but," Arcade reached out and placed a hand on Six's head, pushing her beret over her eyes and making her yelp at the sudden darkness. "Maybe you're not the type for random one night stands. You could be the type that likes to get to know a person before you sleep with them. Not judging or anything but I'm not the type that likes to talk about my tragic backstory before getting it on."

Six snorted, nudging him in the side with her elbow as she fixed her beret. "Are you sure you're not a psychiatrist? You seem to know just what to say to make me feel better."

"It's only with you, I usually end up saying something to piss someone off more often than not." Arcade nodded to the building that they were slowly approaching. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like it if we finish this and get back to Freeside before it gets dark.

"Sorry Arcade but it'll probably take at least an hour for the doc to replace Rex's brain. We'll probably be camping either here or on the road back."

"Oh goody, I'm so excited I could die." Arcade sighed, following Six as he continued to complain to the laughing woman. Arcade decided to stick with Doctor Henry while Six wandered outside to talk to the nightkin tending to the bighorners. Once Arcade was sure that Six was outside he walked over to the doctor who was busy removing Rex's old brain.

"Hey Henry, I have a question for you. Do you remember any of the old files from some of the vaults the enclave visited?" He asked quietly, making sure no one could hear them.

"I remember a few, terrible experiments Vault-Tec did. Why do you ask?"

"Does the name Charon ring any bells?"

Henry paused for a moment, looking over at Arcade with a concerned expression before returning to his work on Rex. "I remember hearing that name from a vault experiment from Pennsylvania I think. Where did you hear that name?"

"The girl that I'm with is looking for a ghoul with that name. I remember you talked about someone with that name before and wondered if they're the same." Arcade looked out the window, watching Six getting hugged by the nightkin she was talking to.

"I would hope they're not the same. From what I remember from the report, the scientists that were running that vault were slaughtered and the three subjects that were created there escaped. Their goal was to make emotionless slaves that would do whatever their master said. I can't imagine that girl traveling around with a walking killing machine."

"You could be right," Arcade mused, watching Six as she pet one of the bighorners. While he wanted to believe it was just a coincidence, he couldn't help but think the odds of two people with such a unique name was hard to believe unless that person's parents enjoyed reading old world writing.

"Well either way, it's nice to see you again kid, how have you been?" Henry changed the subject as he began the process of transferring brains. Arcade shrugged, moving away from the window to lean against a nearby wall.

"Alright I guess, I'm thinking about traveling around with this courier. She's the one that has been talked about on the radio recently.

"The one shot in the head? I wasn't expecting you to be traveling around with such a celebrity." Henry said sarcastically, making Arcade chuckle.

"Well it beats wandering around the fort for hours on end." Arcade replied, raising an eyebrow when Six returned with the nightkin following in behind her.

"Hey Arcade! Guess who's coming with us!"

"On second thought, the fort might not be too bad."

---------------------------------------

"You should eat more vegetables dear."

"I'm good Lily, thanks."

"Oh you're just like my grandson Jimmy, he always didn't want to eat his vegetables."

Six snickered as she watched Lily try to give Arcade a plate of roasted jalapeno peppers. After relenting and taking two peppers, Lily turned to offer some peppers to Six which gave Arcade a chance to throw them into the darkness surrounding their camp.

"I don't think she realizes eating that many peppers would ruin our insides." Arcade grumbled to Six after Lily offered to take the first watch for the night.

"She's just trying to be helpful. I'm sure she's just happy to be feeding us." Six replied as she set up her bedroll. Arcade set up his next to her and Rex flopped down between them happily.

"I guess. Her trying to scold me reminds me of when my mom used to scold me for spending all my caps on bubblegum as a kid." Arcade mused, laying down and looking up at the stars. Six laughed, imagining a little Arcade trying to sneakily chew bubblegum and getting in trouble when caught.

"I don't remember my mother, I don't think because I lost my memories but I think because she died when I was young. I remember there was some passage she liked but that's all I know about her."

"Revelations 21:6?"

While he couldn't see her face, he knew she was probably looking at him shocked. "When you were unconscious you were talking in your sleep. You mentioned it but that's all we heard." He didn't think she wanted to know that he also heard she wanted to die so he kept that to himself. Six nodded, laying down which Rex took as a sign to lay his head on her stomach.

"Yeah, I don't know why but it feels important. It feels like the more I try to remember, the harder it is to recall." Six raised her hand to the sky, imagining herself reaching for the memories that were just beyond her grasp. She hoped that when she found Charon that he could help her recall her memories. Boone, Arcade and Lily have told her stories about their life but she had nothing to give in return. She wanted to laugh about stupid things she did as a kid or talk about trouble she got into but she couldn't do anything like that with her memories a blank slate.

"Arcade, do you think I'll ever get my memories back?"

"Do you want the optimistic response or the realistic response?"

Six snorted. "Realistic, I can't imagine you talking optimistically."

"Damn right," Arcade chuckled, rolling on his side to face her. "Usually amnesia goes away over time but since yours is due to a gunshot wound there could be a chance that some memories are permanently lost. The fact you've been slowly regaining memories though is a good sign. The fact you're in an unfamiliar environment might also slow the recovery process since there's nothing familiar for you to recall but if you find Charon then talking with him could speed up your recovery."

Arcade could see in the firelight Six smile and a tear streak that slowly began to dry in the evening heat.

"Thanks Arcade, you really should be a psychiatrist."

"If that's the case then that'll be two hundred caps."

---------------------------------------

Boone raised an eyebrow as Six entered the fort followed by Arcade, ED-E, Rex and Lily. While Arcade went to talk to Lily, Six headed over to Boone with a grin on her face.

"Looks like you found a few friends," Boone commented, looking down at Rex who walked over to sniff Boone's hand. He gave the furry part of Rex's back a pat which made the dog wag his tail excitedly.

"Yup, plus I got enough caps to get us a passport into the strip. How are your wounds?" Six asked, noticing that he was wearing his usual white shirt again and standing pretty well without needing support.

"I just got the all clear. I'll be good to go when you're ready." Boone replied, making Six grin.

"Great, also I ran into a trader and got you this." She dug into her bag and pulled out a rifle scope. Boone didn't hide his surprise as she passed the item to him. "I remember you mentioned that your scope lens was cracked and the trader said this should fit your rifle."

Boone didn't know what to say and silently took the item and placed it in his bag. After a few moments he looked back at Six who was shouting at Arcade to hurry up so they could go.

"Thanks."

While he said it softly he could see Six's smile widen as she looked back at Boone. "Let's get going."

"I've got your back."

[justkending]

Some Snow Would Be Nice. (Drabble)

I entered into @cevansgirl 1500 followers writing challenge! Congrats by the way girl;) You deserve it! So go give her a follow if you don’t already!!! I loved writing this, and I hope you all enjoy!!! Let me know what you think my lovelies! Xoxox 

My prompt was:  “Some snow would be nice”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2000+

The Avengers had been stuck in the tower for the past few days due to low crime and just slow activity with their job. I guess that should be a good thing, but as people whose jobs and lives revolve around it, it can become a little irritable when they had nothing to do. 

“Ugggg!” Y/N let out a groan flopping on the couch dramatically and throwing her legs over Steve’s. 

Nat, Bucky, and Sam all on the couch as well, doing their own things. Sam and Bucky were watching some show that Sam said ‘The old man needs to learn,’ and Nat on her laptop doing top secret stuff most likely. 

“What are you complaining about now Y/N?” Nat chuckled as Steve brought his hand that wasn’t holding the book he was reading onto her calf squeezing it tightly. 

“It’s been four days since we got out of here. I’m soooooo booorrreeeddd…” she dragged out throwing her head back into the nearby throw pillow with another grunt. 

“Sweetheart, you can go out. It’s not like we’re confined here,” Steve chuckled looking over at her with a grin before turning back to the book. 

“Yeah, but nothing interesting is happening out there,” she complained. 

“Would you rather there be someone wreaking havoc on the world so we had something to do? Cause that’s just plain evil,”  Sam said with a pointed look. 

“That’s just plain evil,” she mocked him with a face getting a laugh out everyone else. “No I don’t want chaos to ensue just so I can be less bored, bird-man.” She rolled her eyes sitting up. “I just want something out of the ordinary to do.”

“Example?” Steve asked turning to her. 

She moved up placing an elbow on his shoulder and resting her head in her hand as she looked at him. 

“I don’t know. Got something to suggest?” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, and immediately he began blushing trying to hide it by sticking his nose back in his book. 

“Don’t tease him Y/N/N. You know he doesn’t know how to react when you flirt with him in front of us,” Bucky laughed. 

“What about a movie marathon?” Nat suggested. 

“Boring. We’ve had one every night,” she groaned, now moving to where her head was resting on Steve’s shoulder. She interlaced her arm with his and cuddled into his side, and he let out a chuckle before adjusting to let her in more. 

“Ok, well, we can go shopping,” Nat added again not looking away from the screen of her laptop. “Maybe Wanda would want to go too.”

“I don’t have anything I need to shop for.”

“No clothes or anything?”

“I wear workout clothes or jeans and t-shirts all the time. I’m set,” Y/N sighed. 

“What do you want to do doll?” Steve asked leaning and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head before she looked up at him. 

“I don’t know… Something that we never get to do,” she said with puppy dog eyes. 

“I feel like we’ve done quite a few things in our life sweetheart. You’re going to have to be more specific,” he laughed.

“Ugh, it’s the weather. I blame the weather for this miserable day,” she said tightening her grip on him and folding back into him. “It’s all cold and icky, and it’s almost Christmas but no snow? What kind of New York Christmas is it without snow?” she yelled slightly.

“Some snow would be nice,” Bucky said looking out the massive windows behind them seeing that it was indeed a cold and depressing kind of day outside. 

“Right?” Y/N said looking up and shooting him a finger agreeing with him. 

“If you want Y/N, you and I can cook something up for dinner tonight? I know baking usually helps calm your nerves,” Bucky said standing and stretching. “I can make chili to make it less of a miserable kinda day,” he walked over lending a hand to her.

She looked up at the invitation and turned to Steve as if silently asking a question, but he didn’t know why. 

“That’s sound like a good way to distract you from this ‘boring’ day,” Steve said, mocking the way she said boring earlier and nodding his head to Bucky with a smile. 

Y/N turned back to Bucky seeing him send her a smile that she normally wouldn’t turn down, but she was restless and just needed to get the energy out of her bones. 

“Nah. Maybe later,” she said with almost a sadden tone now. One everyone picked up on. “I’m going to go run a couple miles. Get the energy out of me.” She sighed before looking at Steve who furrowed his forehead in confusion. She never said no to cooking with Bucky. That’s how they had practically become best friends. Bickering over who could cook better, and how the other always used the wrong recipe. 

“You sure sweetheart? I mean I can find something else to do if you-” Steve said putting the book to the side and running a hand through her hair. 

“No, it’s fine. You guys keep enjoying yourselves. You read your book,” she smiled easing his worry a little. “I really just think the weather is messing with my head. Working it out should help some.” 

He nodded and leaned to give her a gentle kiss before she stood up taking Bucky’s hand that he re-extended to her. 

“I’m finally offering to bake with you, and you’re turning me down?” Bucky said putting a hand over his chest in fake hurt while still holding her other one. “I thought I would finally have given you something to make you happy.”

“I’m happy you dork. Just a little stir crazy,” she chuckled shoving him playfully. “I’m going outside to run the miles. Maybe that’ll clear my head,” she said turning to the hallway to change. “But I do expect Chili in a bowl when I get back!” she pointed at him as she walked backwards. 

“Whatever Doll…” he rolled his eyes before grinning at her. Their own playful friendly banter. 

____

Y/N went and ran her miles and came back a little less irritable. The rest of the crew including Steve, Bucky, Sam, Nat, Wanda, Tony, Rhodey, and Vision sat down laughing and eating dinner. Y/N a little more quiet than usual, but still present nonetheless. The only person close enough to her to pick up the little tells though was Steve. He had always been able to read her like a book. 

So when they mentioned another movie night, and she declined saying she was going to turn in early, he said he would join her. 

But she didn’t want to keep him from his friends, so she convinced him to stay no matter how hard he argued saying he was tired. But vice versa, she could read him just as much as he could her. She knew he was only doing it because he was worried, but she reassured him that she was indeed just tired and ready for bed. 

Finally he relented, but he didn’t tell her that he would only stay for one movie at most just to say he stayed before making his way back to their shared room. 

But halfway through the movie Bucky elbowed him pulling him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t been paying any mind to the movie, but instead was thinking of ways to cheer Y/N up and get her out of her funk she was clearly in. 

“What?” Steve said shaking his head and turning to Bucky. 

“Look,” The brunette said nodding behind him at the windows. 

When Steve turned he noticed little white specks in the air. Looking closer they slowly started to get bigger and bigger. Forming more of a what a small cotton ball would look like. 

Steve turned to Bucky who had knowing eyes. 

“Go. Everyone was just counting down the minutes for you to run to your room,” he laughed quietly not to disrupt the movie and patting his friends back. 

Steve didn’t hesitate, and practically sprinted down the hall and to the elevator. The crew behind him hooping and hollering showing what Bucky said was right. 

When he got into the room, he peaked in seeing that she had already fallen asleep. It wasn’t that late, but she had said she was tired today. Not much excitement in a day does that to a person. 

He closed the door quietly behind him, and carefully walked to her side of the bed sitting on the edge. She had an extra blanket wrapped around her top half, and the giant comforter was covering her bottom. She flipped facing Steve at the shift in the bed and let out a mumble. 

Steve always like watching her sleep. He got to do it a lot since he’s sleep schedule and timing was very different from hers. You know… Only having to sleep four hours compared to her eight hours. 

It was as if all the worries in the world completely faded as soon as she slipped into unconsciousness. Something he was glad happened considering their line of work. 

He moved a stray piece of hair from her forehead and let his finger fall down her cheek causing a slight tickle to wake her. 

She mumbled again before lazily opening her eyes. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he whispered smiling at her sloth like state. 

“Hey,” she said sleep clear in her voice. She cleared it slightly before talking again. “Is something wrong? Do I need to-” Worry and urgency. A reflex when your job is saving the world.

“No, no. Everything's perfect. I just wanted to show you something,” he said moving the blanket a little as she struggled to sit up and rub her eyes. 

“What?” she said pulling her hair behind her and out of her face. 

“Come on. Grab that blanket and put on your shoes,” he instructed, standing and grabbing another blanket just in case. 

She did as asked, and Steve moved her over to the balcony that they had in their little suite. 

“What’s going on Steve?” she began still trying to wake up her eyes, but when Steve opened the door to the view, they shot open finally. “Is it-?” she let out a soft laugh. “It’s snowing,” she giggled. 

Steve loved that giggle. It always made his heart flutter in his chest. Even after 3 years of being together, she still had the same effects on him from when they first met and he developed a crush on her.

“It’s like you asked and the God’s answered,” Steve said wrapping his arms behind her and around her waist before tucking his chin on her shoulder looking at the view with her. 

“Does Thor have a brother that controls the weather too that I didn’t know about?” she joked, making him laugh and her whole body vibrate with it.

“You’re a dork,” he said in-between the laughs. 

“Yeah. Your dork,” she retorted as she turned in his arms now shifting her gaze to him. 

“Good thing too. I don’t know what I would do without someone as goofy as you in my life,” he said leaning and nudging his nose with hers. 

“Yeah, and I don’t know what I would do without someone as cheesy as you,” she laughed returning the gesture. 

She turned back to their original spot, and the two just watched as the snow began to lay a blanket over the grass. No other color than white taking up the ground. It was snowing harder and heavier now than it had been from the living room, and boy was it a beautiful sight. 

“Think we can have a snowball fight tomorrow?” she spoke up after minutes of comfortable silence.

“I’m in,” he smiled.

“Think we can convince the rest of the team?” she added.

“I think you’re going to have to promise Bucky a baking session if we do.” 

“I think I can handle that. Who doesn’t love some fresh cinnamon rolls after a day in the snow?”

“I won’t complain,” he chuckled. He waited another few minutes before asking. “Ready to go back to bed?”

“Just a few more minutes. I just want to savor this moment. You, the snow, contentment,” she said taking a deep breath and falling back into his chest. He leaned down pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Fine by me doll. Fine by me.” 

Marvel Tags:

@girlintheshire @thejourneyneverendsx @zlixlle @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @zeilenkrieg @lizzymacy555 @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood @sebastianstanfavpita

Steve Rogers/ Chris Evans Tags:

@lil-lex1 @capsiclesdoll @snow30285 @ce-vans @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @starstrucknature @katurrade @sp2900 @badassbeckettswan @cevanswhores @patzammit @cheeseburgersstuff

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravic @traceyaudette @kakakatey @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @snffbeebee @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @naomi02hook @xostephanie @schwankyblock @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022@jjlevin @rainbowkisses31​

[yandere-daydreams]

The dog piece was bakugo was too sad qwq plss pretend fix with the pupper growing close to reader perhaps only acting as a guard dog to the reader or possibly lots of angst where reader does stay away from them until the pupper gets some i love reader juicee

My love for pitbulls,,, is even greater,,, then my need to answer requests,,, I can not change who I am and I do not intend to (here’s a link to the first part, by the way).

Three months. That was how long you lasted.

Princess grew steadily, eating as much as Katsuki would let her and tearing through the apartment on a daily basis, sleeping at the foot of your bed every night and going to Katsuki’s agency during the day, quickly becoming a favorite among his fans (according to the letters he’d proudly read to her, anyway). She was never hostile, never growling and hardly barking, even if she was a menace to anything stuffed and low enough for him to reach. Katsuki wasn’t nearly as strict of a trainer you would’ve expected, only teaching her basic commands (sit, lie down, attack, etc…) and spoiling her whenever he got the opportunity. Her custom, plush-lined collar was proof of that, as far as you were concerned.

You didn’t know whether to be jealous of him or her, sometimes. You envied how much attention he lathered on her, not making Princess beg and plead for the slightest bit of autonomy. She was allowed to go outside, to see other people, to be more of a human than you were. Similarly, you wanted to be part of Princess’ life, if only to have another living, breathing creature around who didn’t treat you like a piece of glass. She was always so close, staring at you so often and so sweetly, you wondered if you could just reach over and pet her, if only for a second.

Then Katsuki would say something, or nudge you, or make it clear that you weren’t the one making the rules, and you never would be. No, you’d always be stuck obeying him. 

Then again, Katsuki wasn’t always home, either.

It’d been one of those days, when Katsuki woke up feeling crazier then he usually did, pulling out your old tether and insisting on locking you up in the master-bedroom until he got home. The remote for Katsuki’s flat-screen was left out of your reach, and you could only read for so long until the words began to blur together. Eventually, you were left to lie on your stomach, lamenting your situation while staring at the open door.

You hadn’t realized Princess was left at home, not until she wandered into the open doorway, sniffing and wagging her tail, eager to find one of the toys she’d left somewhere around the house. When she saw you, she paused, sitting and panting in your general direction.

“I’m not allowed to pet you,” You grunted, voice muffled by the comforter. “Bakugo says you’ll bite me.”

Princess, once again, wagged her tail.

“But, Bakugo isn’t home.”

Her ears perked up, and she tilted her head to the side.

“And you’re not going to go away, are you?”

She didn’t.

It was over by the time she jumped on the bed, licking at your face while you laughed, trying to push her away playfully, which only resulted in more licking, which just meant you had to play with her… and scratch her ears, and kiss her little black nose, and let her cuddle into your chest, because Katsuki wouldn’t approve of letting you move an eighty-pound sack of clinginess and adorability. Instead, you did the safe thing, letting her curl up at your side, lazily petting over her fur until you found your eyes closing, falling asleep as she did.

In comparison, your awakening hadn’t been nearly as peaceful.

Your eyes shot open abruptly, a hand pulling you out of your impromptu nap and shoving you against the mattress, Katsuki holding down your wrists as you writhed and kicked instinctually, Princess whining at the disruption, pawing lightly at her owner’s back. If he noticed, he didn’t care, glaring so fiercely, you flinched back when he exhaled.

“I tell you not to do one thing,” He mumbled, his voice so low, you could barely hear him. It was more for himself than for you, his anger already damn-near tangible. Your wrists cracked under his grip, his gantlets the only part of his hero-costume he’s bothered taking off. You’d almost forgotten how much that mask scared you. Almost. “Everything I do is to protect you, do you know that? I’m out there, fighting villains every day to make sure they don’t find and hurt you, but apparently, you can’t even stay away from something dangerous in your own home.”

You shook your head, still partially disoriented. “Bakugo, I-”

“Princess could’ve attacked you! Sure, she’s alright now, but you could’ve provocked her! She’s still a puppy!”

You pursed your lips. The dog who he seemed so afraid was currently whimpering and nosing at his side, just trying to stop him from being so loud. “She’s perfectly-”

“I’m doing this to keep you safe, but maybe I should start dragging you to my agency on a leash, too. I try to leave you unsupervised for one day, and you broke my trust the moment I turned my back-”

“Bakugo!” You were the one to cut him off, this time, balling your hands into fists. Trying to present yourself as his equal was only getting harder, these days. Reluctantly, Katsuki shut the hell up, scowling but staying quiet, much to your relief. Still, you didn’t let yourself relax. “Look at me. Really closely, now. What do you see?”

He looked confused, for a moment, his answer coming carefully after he scanned over you. “...nothing?”

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, letting yourself sink into the mattress. This time, you dared to met Katsuki’s eyes, not backing down when he bared his teeth. “Exactly. Nothing. We were home together all day, and the worst thing she did was tear a hole in one of your shoes.”

“Fuck, the nice ones?” He released you, reflexively, throwing a glare in Princess’ general direction before turning back to you, watching with a piercing gaze as you pushed yourself up, hiding behind a stern frown and crossed arms. Neither of you spoke, for a minute, just staring in a silent, tense stand-off. It was an improvement to the screaming matches the two of you used to have, but not by much.

Katsuki was the first to relent, waving a hand, letting Princess past him. The puppy didn’t hesitate, lapping at your face while she checked over you, eventually returning to Katsuki’s side, finally greeting the Hero with all the enthusiasm she usually did. “A few guys at work wanted to train her to search people, or tackle criminals,” He sighed, grudgingly giving her a light pat. “The goddamn softie would let them go for a treat, though. We couldn’t even get her to bite the trainer they brought in.”

You forced yourself to smile, but there wasn't much else you could do. There wasn’t much you were able to do.

Katsuki was the one who made the rules.

You just had to obey.

[spiderman-homecomeme]

Something New

Part 2 of “And a Silver Sixpence in Her Shoe”

AN: Here we are with chapter two!! hope you guys like this one. Here, things get a little, shall we say..... steamy ;))) so let me know what you think! 

This one’s a little bit longer than the first, but still has all the fluff, humor, and allllll the cheese. <3

Read here or on AO3!

-

“Red, black, or white?”

MJ's voice cuts through the comfortable silence of the living room. Peter looks over to her, blinking in confusion at the way she’s watching him expectantly from behind her laptop screen.

“Huh?” He asks, a brow raising in question.

“Pick a color.”

“Like… any color?”

“No, like the ones I said.” Her eyes dart right and left. “So… Red, black, or white?”

“Uh….” He pauses, for almost too long, as if his answer could have some sort of lasting consequence. He tilts his head from side to side, chewing at the inside of his lip in thought when he finally settles on one.

“Red?”

A smirk tugs at MJ’s lips as she looks back down at her screen, clicking away. “Good choice.”

“Why’d you ask?”

Her eyes flit up to his for a fraction of a second. “Buying something.”

“What is it?” He asks, sitting forward as if trying to get a small glimpse over her laptop, curiosity piqued.

She pulls the lid closer to her, almost shutting the computer. “None of your business,” she says, narrowing her eyes as she fixes him with a steely glare, though it’s not very convincing with the near minuscule upward twitch at the corner of her mouth in an attempt to conceal the amused grin threatening to form.

(Technically it was his business, or it certainly would be, but he didn’t need to know that.)

But actually telling him that he’d just inadvertently helped her pick out the lingerie she was going to wear on their wedding night would take all the fun out of it.

Well, maybe not all of it.

Still, it was going to be a nice surprise.

At least she had hoped.

In all of their eight years together, with all of their experience—and there was experience—lingerie, the whole get-up, was never really something they did, something they cared about. While MJ’s definitely had her share of nicer, fancier undergarments, they’ve never ventured out into a full on set. To them, it didn’t really make too much sense, especially seeing as the damn thing would just end up forgotten on the floor within a matter of seconds anyway. That wasn’t to say that they were a “wham, bam, thank you ma’am,” kind of couple (though, don’t get them wrong, they weren’t above the occasional, much needed quickie); it wasn’t just a one and done thing with them.

They just didn’t really see the point.

It wasn’t something they needed, both of them more than happy with the current state and direction of their sex life.

But even then, it’s not like that door was completely shut.

She figures it might be something nice to do for their wedding night. A special occasion, and she has a funny feeling that Peter’s not gonna be one to complain; not in the slightest.

It’s new. It’s fun. They’re open.

“Is it for me?” Peter asks, his mouth stretching in a sly grin.

She pauses for a moment’s contemplation before giving a single nod and one-shoulder shrug. “I mean, yeah? Technically it’s for me? But I’m pretty sure you’ll appreciate it.”

An image flashes through her mind, one that makes her subtly shift in her seat on the couch as her stomach, one that shows just how much he’ll appreciate it.

She shakes her head, careful not to let her mind wander too far ahead.

“Can I have a hint?” Peter’s head falls back against the couch, whipping out his best puppy-dog eyes and pout. “Pleeeease?”

Honestly, it was like dealing with a child sometimes.

A grown-ass, twenty-four-year-old child.

MJ doesn’t even glance up from her screen, smirking quietly to herself. “Nope,” she says simply, audibly popping the ‘p,’ just for emphasis.

He deflates, groaning in petulant frustration, though he’s unable to hide that faint hint of amusement to his tone.

For once, she actually takes pity on him, chuckling quietly to herself as she shakes her head. “Hey.” She nudges him gently with her foot, and he looks up at her with that same pleading, overly-dramatic, hopeless expression.

It’s funny; she doesn’t remember buying the tickets for this guilt trip.

God, he was too good at this.

“I can’t ruin the surprise,” she relents, only just.

“Ugh, fine.” His eyes move to her again, though he doesn’t turn completely. “A good surprise?”

And finally, the smirk wins, and she bites her lip in an effort to hide it from behind her computer screen.

“A really good one.”

-

Surprisingly, Peter hasn’t asked about the mysterious online purchase since that night, even when he finds the suspicious package sitting just outside their door. She’d fully expected him to be more annoying about it, given that he was just a naturally curious person, especially when it was something that involved himself.

The one time he’d said something was a quiet, shady little remark about how secrets didn’t make friends.

MJ had quickly shut that down, reminding him that one, he hides that fact that he’s Spider-Man (or tries to) from literally everyone he meets, and two, on a related note, she had to figure it out on her own. He only told her after the fact.

He shut up after that.

It was truly a thrill, keeping something like this from him, knowing that the suspense was surely driving him absolutely crazy.

And she does well, for the most part, not giving away the surprise.

Even when she takes the UPS box from him, ignoring the way he’s eyeing her carefully, his gaze calculating as she darts to their shared bedroom and shuts the door. Honestly, at this point, he probably has a vague idea as to what this could be, but she doesn’t care.

There’s a smaller, much fancier white box, complete with a delicate little bow when she opens the first one, and she’s almost too careful as she pulls the lid free. The deep red fabric is a stark contrast against the white tissue paper, a simple, yet seemingly complicated number. Her thumb runs over the soft lace, eyes inspecting every inch of the garment, just taking it all in.

Her mouth twitches into a satisfied frown, head nodding in approval.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

The distant sounds of pots and pans from the kitchen reminds her that she’s not exactly home alone. Peter is still very much here. If he really wanted to, he could just burst through the door like the fucking kool-aid man and see the surprise for himself.

She’d have to try it on later.

Preferably when her darling fiancé isn’t home.

(And when she has time to actually figure this thing out.)

Though, if she’s being honest, she does feel the tiniest bit guilty for keeping him in the dark, especially since he’s only made one, frankly pitiful, attempt at getting an answer out of her. Again, she hadn’t expected him to be as patient as he was; perhaps it telling him—or hell, putting it on and showing him—wouldn’t ruin the surprise all that much.

It wasn’t that big of a deal.

But she shakes that thought immediately, instead deciding to just hide the fancy white box in the depths of their closet.

Out of sight, out of mind right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

Less than three hours later and she’s already caved.

Because she can’t stop thinking about the box hiding in the back of their walk-in closet, filled with lace and satin, even as they eat dinner together; even as they watch (or rather, don’t watch, both of them too distracted by the other) movies, cuddled on the couch; even as she feels one of Peter’s hands slowly, slowly trailing up her thigh; even as she’s pinned to the mattress after a night of flirting and teasing; even as his hands hitch one of her legs around his waist, feeling him pressing against her inner thigh, and even as his lips leave hers, leaving languid, hungry kisses along the column of her throat.

The distraction is too much.

She can’t take it.

She’s too excited.

Michelle Jones might have been good—no, scratch that, excellent—at keeping secrets, but this was definitely the exception.

“Wait wait wait wait—” She stops him right as his hand dips under the waistband of her (his) sweatpants, placing her own hand on his chest, gently pushing him back despite the way her body is silently screaming in protest.

Immediately, he pulls away, looking down at her with all the worry and concern in the world, brows pinched together. “What? What is it? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah yeah. I’m fine,” She reassures him, trying to catch her breath as they both sit up. “Just got something to show you.”

Relief floods him, and he relaxes, an easy grin pulling at his lips. “Is it the surprise?” He guesses, his hand coming to rest on her thigh, casually smoothing over the fabric of her sweats.

“Maybe,” she shrugs.

He doesn’t miss the flicker or mischief in her eyes as she jumps from the bed and into the closet, his mouth twisting in amusement and anticipation. The implications were there, about a million ideas—all amazing—running through his head as to what this long-awaited surprise could have been. Biting his lip, he leans back, tucking an arm behind his head, waiting patiently as he listens to her shuffle about.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she steps back out, still fully clothed, a fancy box in her outstretched hands.

He fixes her with a bemused smile, tilting his head a fraction as she places the surprise on the bed in front of him.

“What?” She asks when he���s silent for a second too long.

He shrugs. “I thought you were doing that whole, ‘lemme slip into something more comfortable,’ thing… The surprise?”

“Oh,” she remembers herself, barely taking a second before she kicks off her sweatpants, leaving her in the just the thin t-shirt. She quirks an amused brow at him. “There. I know it’s not much, but—”

“—it really changes the look,” Peter finishes for her, nodding seriously as his eyes travel the length of her now bare legs, though the corners of his lips twitch upward as he fights back a grin.

“Exactly.”

“I like it.”

“Okay, but me not wearing pants isn’t the surprise, so…” She gestures vaguely to the box next to him.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs for the fancy box, not taking his eyes off her as he pulls the ribbon free and removes the lid. Her stomach flutters as she watches him, unconsciously holding her breath as he finally looks down.

“Oh,” he breathes, the right corner of his mouth quirking up into an impressed half-smirk as he carefully holds the straps of the red lace in his hands. He turns it around, eyes raking over every inch—though, there’s not a whole lot—of the soft fabric. “What’s this?”

MJ gives a half-hearted, innocent shrug. “Not much. Just something new for the wedding night.”

Realization floods Peter’s features, and somehow, his grin widens. “This is gonna be under your dress?”

“Well, kinda. I’ll wear the underwear… but not the whole set,” she says, eyes shifting from side to side. “That shit’s for later. And I’m pretty sure you’d be able to see it through the dress.”

Peter smirks playfully. “I mean, I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

Her face scrunches. “Gross.” She pauses, biting her lip as she watches him inspect the near-burgundy lace. “Do you like it?”

His expression grows serious, calculating, lips twisting in concentration. “I don’t know…” He tilts his head, raising a brow as he looks over at her, then back to the lingerie in his hands, then back to her.

“I think I need to see it on. Just to really form a solid opinion on it.”

He’s entirely too proud of that, she thinks.

“Yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

His bottom lip juts out slightly into a pout that MJ has to repeatedly tell herself isn’t cute; at least not enough for her to change her mind. “You’re not gonna put it on?”

“No, you dork,” she huffs, trying to seem annoyed. “It’s for our first night of wedded bliss, or whatever. Plus, that’s just more effort on my part.”

Peter chuckles, tossing the lingerie back in the box, reaching out to take her hand and pull her closer, his thumb tracing soft lines into her skin. “Am I not worth it?”

She squints, tilting her head in mock contemplation, her voice more than an octave higher as she pretends to struggle with an answer. “Well…”

A genuine belly laugh escapes him as he lets go of her hand, only to snake both arms around her hips, bringing her even closer. “I love you.” His voice is muffled against her side as he gives her an affectionate squeeze.

Her heart soars at how impossibly soft the gesture is, that fuzzy feeling that always brings a certain comfort with it radiating throughout her body. It’s been years since she’s actually been nervous around Peter. When they got out of that initial honeymoon, 24/7 butterflies-in-your-stomach phase, she’d been worried, wondering if it meant that something was wrong. But, as they grew, both as a couple and as individuals, she’d realized that the new feeling when they were together was a million times better.

It was warm.

It was safe.

It was pure, unadulterated happiness.  

“I love you, too.” MJ’s cheeks hurt from all the smiling she’s been doing, a light laugh bubbling out of her as she cards a gentle hand through his curls.

Peter pulls his head back, beaming up at her, though his dopey smile and loving brown eyes do nothing to distract her from the way one of his hands at the small of her back lowers, completely by accident.

She opens her mouth, snarky comment at the ready, to call him out on being so damn handsy, before her world is flipped—literally—and she’s on her back, Peter hovering above her with this dumb grin on his dumb face.

She’d like to say that the sound that had come out of her mouth was a very dainty, cute squeal.

But it’s more of a surprised, if not a little undignified squawk.

He picks up where they left off, bringing a hand to her knee, prising her legs apart and settling in the open space before continuing his earlier assault on her neck.

Desperately fighting off a surrendering smile, she smacks his chest. “I hate you.”

“Damn.” He pulls back, snickering to himself, tongue between his teeth, his wandering hands ghosting over her hips before pinching her sides. “Guess we better call off the wedding then?”

Jolting at the touch, her alarmed laugh brings another big dumb smirk to his face, now inches away from hers. Her skin alights as his hand trails up her bare thigh, breath hitching when his fingers brush against the lace trim of her underwear.

“I guess so,” she jokes with him, tugging at the hem of his shirt, trying to maintain some sense of composure as he pulls it off and throws it somewhere across the room; though, to be honest, she’s finding it to be increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything other than his hands on her body, his lips on her neck.

She also finds that they’re still wearing too many clothes.

“What a shame.” His laugh dissolves into a breathy, soft groan when she rolls her hips in retaliation.

Capturing her lips into a searing kiss, he rolls them over, leaning back against the headboard, unable to contain his smug grin at the sigh that leaves her body when she settles fully onto his lap and mindlessly grinds down.

It all starts to happen so quickly, her shirt haphazardly thrown behind her. It's dizzying; the heat of his skin under her hands, the new feeling of his hardness now completely pressing against her. And it’s intoxicating; seeing the way his muscles twitch and flex at even the lightest of touches, his mouth hot as he kisses her.

He intertwines his hand with her own, and she feels him smile against her lips before he suddenly pulls away.

“Hey, since we’re not getting married anymore,” he starts, still teasing, and she has to stop herself from smacking him again as she blinks slowly, staring at the wall just above his head.

Her silence (obviously) doesn't stop him.

"And since there's no wedding night to wait for…” He actually fucking winks at her, the audacity of it all. “Maybe, I dunno… you could…" He trails off, voice dropping as his hands come down to rest on her hips, giving them a playful squeeze. "Put that red thing on? For me?"

Of fucking course he would.

The urge to roll her eyes into another dimension is the strongest it's ever been. She'd say that she can't believe him, but then she'd be a liar. Though, her pointed glare isn't very convincing, the faint upward twitch of the corners of her mouth impossible to miss.

"Nah."

Peter quirks a brow at her. "Why not?"

"Because," she deadpans, giving a weak shrug.

"Because why?"

She shakes her head at his persistence, closing the distance between them, hoping that a sound kiss will shut him up.

And it seems to work at first, until she pulls back and he's still looking at her expectantly, the teasing glint still in his eyes.

The exasperated laugh that bubbles out of her comes without warning; maintaining that stern, steely, assertive glare becoming harder and harder every second he’s looking at her with those big dumb eyes, his dumb teeth biting his dumb tongue.

"Because you're being a little shit!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." His cheeky smirk just barely disappears as he pulls her in for another kiss, abandoning all attempts at subtly as he lets his hands fall even lower on her body.

“Also—” This time, she's the one who stops, her expression almost completely blank, save for the faint beginnings of another grin playing on her lips.

Peter looks up at her, waiting patiently for whatever she has to say as his thumbs rub soothing circles into her skin.

“I can’t figure out how to put it on."

[comphersjost]

Happy ➸ Travis Konecny

hello I’m back AGAIN with some TK smut :)) been feeling lots of inspiration lately after a long writers block so yeehaw here you go. i love this dumb angry baby so much.

Words: 1.3k+

Warnings: nsfw, smut, sex, fucking. a bit of overstim seriously this is filthy. like very. get a bible or something. im sorry.

find my masterlist here

If there was one thing you loved about Travis, it was his perception. His ability to read people, to know exactly what they need. To know exactly what you need. Sometimes it consisted of cuddling on the couch watching Disney movies. And other times… well it consisted of tying you up and spending hours with his head between your thighs. Either way? He knew.

Tonight was one such night. You heard the click of the key slide into the lock and the door open. You'd given him the key to you apartment after a little over a month of almost constant hook ups. He's been gone for 5 days, and of course he'd come to see you first, before anyone else. One look at you and he knew it was your mother, bothering you about being single, not finding a “nice boy to settle down with”. You sighed at that. It wasn't really her fault. If the press hasn't even picked up on the fact the you and Travis are sleeping together, then how would she? But still, it annoyed you infinitely.

“Your mom again?” TK rumbles, dropping his keys on the table and kicking the door shut behind him, locking it without taking his eyes from you. He doesn't move from his place by the door until you nod, sighing.

“I know she just wants me to be happy but I…” you drift off, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s just so frustrating, especially because… because I am happy.” Your words warms Travis’s heart, so much so that he almost doesn't feel the pang in it at seeing you in distress. It's then he takes off his jacket, slowly, allowing you to savor the sight. Even through your distress, you couldn't help but be reminded of how attractive this man was. And you couldn't help but he reminded that of all the people in the world, he chose you. And that makes you feel just a bit better.

Travis drapes his jacket over the sofa and strides over to you, curled up on the couch. “C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you into his arms. You're used to being held securely in his arms, so the sudden feeling of not being on a flat surface feels normal to you. Your curl up around him, burying your face in his neck as he shifts you so that he's carrying you bridal style. You almost scoff at the thought, considering the two of you aren't even officially dating. Just sleeping together, fucking around.

Travis walks the two of you to your bedroom, his heavy footfalls lulling you into a sense of peace.

His breath hitches at the soft wet kisses you press against his neck. “Lemme take care of you,” he murmurs into your curls, nudging the door to your room open with his foot. He uses his hip to push the door shut before setting you gently on the bed. He mouths at your throat as soon as you're laying back against the sheets. “Gonna let me take care of you, honey? Hm?” You whine softly as he sucks a mark into the spot above your pulse. “Gonna let me make you feel good? Take your mind off everything?”

“Yes,” comes your hum of approval. TK peppers soft kisses against your skin, leaving as many marks as he can. Soft, breathy moans escape your lips as he marks you up. You're his; you know it and he knows it.

“M’gonna treat you so good, honey.” Your breathing almost stops at the words muttered against your collar bone. “Gonna make you forget. Gonna make you focus on me. That sound good, hm?” You can only whimper in response.

Travis let's a rough hand slips under your too-big t-shirt, reaching to unclasp your bra before he realizes that you aren't wearing one. “Fuck,” he swears, reaching for your breast, pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You keen and arch your back.

“Travis, please.” He chuckles and only leaves another mark on your skin.

“Relax, baby,” you can hear the grin in his voice, and feel it on your skin. “M’gonna take it slow today. Gonna hold you ‘n make you fall apart.”

Your mouth drops open at his words. It was never slow with Travis. He was rough, quick, fucking you so that you couldn't even think. Orgasms with TK were mind blowing, they had you seeing white. He had you seeing white. He knew you, your body inside and out, he knew exactly how to treat you and what you needed. No one knew you better than TK, and yet, he wasn't yours. Just a friend. A friend you happened to be having wild sex with almost everyday for the past 5 months.

He continues to tug and pinch at your abused nub, his lips on your neck never letting up. You gasp and moan and wriggle around, if only for him to give your nipple some sort of relief. He does, for a moment, only to move to the other side and give your other breast the same treatment. “TK, please, please, I need you.”

Travis’s lips come back to your jaw at your whimpered words. His mouth is pressing softly against your jaw, your cheeks, lips, nose. “Need me, huh?” He tugs roughly at your nipple again.

You're so overwhelmed with emotion that your eyes start to fill with tears. “Please,” your voice is hoarse and thick, and it makes him pull back to look at you. You stare at him, silently pleading him not to press. “Can't wait for you, need you.”

Thankfully, he relents. “Okay, honey, alright,” he pulls your shirt up and over your head before moving down your body. “You're alright, angel, I got you, I got you baby.” The sweet names he’s calling you don't make your emotions go away, in fact they only strengthen everything you're feeling. Travis tugs at your sweatpants, wasting no time as he pulls them down your legs and off of you.

You barely remember that you haven't shaved anything before the though his lost in TK’s lips on your thighs. It didn't matter anyways, he didn't care if you shaved or not, and at this point - you couldn't wait.

Travis slowly spreads your legs open and buries face nose in your clothed cunt, nose nudging at your clit through the cotton. You moan out, wanting to plead for him but somehow not being able to find your voice. His tongue slips out to lick a line up your panties. His thumbs hook on either side of the material, sliding them off of you. You though he was done making you wait, but instead of touching you where you need him, TK kisses and sucks and licks at your thighs.

“I have you, baby, I got you,” he repeats. “I got you, I got you.” He says it like a mantra as he marks up your thighs, and just as you're about to grab his hair and lead him to your center, he dives into your pussy. A cry escapes you, habit causing you to attempt to close your legs. But - fuck - Travis is so big and his broad shoulders keep you legs open for him.

“Tra-Trav-Travis,” you plead for more, even though he's giving you everything you wanted and needed. “Travis, fuck fuck fuck.” He’s sucking roughly at your clit, moving his head back and forth so that you can feel him. Fuck you can feel every bump and ridge of his tongue. You want to beg, but for what, you're not sure.

Travis mouths your clit, his hand coming up to rub his thumb slowly against your clit. He wasn't playing, he’s taking his time with you tonight. The slow circles he's rubbing and his tongue sliding through your wetness and into you usually wouldn't be enough to get you off, but for some reason you're already climbing closer and closer to your peak. It feels like hours that his mouth is on you, and it feel so so good.

“Taste so good, honey,” he says against your cunt, “love this pussy. All mine, hm?” You don't have it in you to answer. You want to say Yes. Yes I’m yours, you own me but you're so scared that if you speak you'll tell him what you really mean. How you really feel. You gasp and jerk when his palm collides with your thigh. “I said all mine, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, back arching when he pulls your sensitive nub back into his mouth and slides two incredibly thick fingers inside of you. “M’all yours, all yours, Trav- fuck.” You can barely speak, can barely form words in your brain right now. Fuck, he's treating you so good. “Yours yours yours.”

“C’mon, honey, think you can come for me? Want you to come for me honey.” The words bring you so much closer to your peak. You finally look at Travis, only to find his eyes already on you. They're so dark and blown with lust and fuck he's gonna make you come. “Come for me, honey, I got you.”

“T-Travis, m’gonna come, m’gonna come, please please please.”

Fuck his fingers move faster inside you, so thick that you felt stretched around only two of them. He hums against your clit and you cry out again. “Please please.” You don't know what your begging for. He slams his fingers back into you and you're there. “Travis! Fuck fuck fuck m’coming, I’m coming!” Your orgasm rips through your belly, he built you up so that it could tear you down. You see stars and fuck you need him to go slow more often.

You're writhing around, shaking and clenching around his fingers. He doesn't let up, working through your high and still going when you start to come down. You whine, reaching for his hair to push him away from your over sensitive cunt. Instead you find yourself pulling him down again, his tongue doing wonders to you.

“Ah ah ah, Travis, please I’m so-oh!” His mouth is off of you now, a third, thick finger sinking into you, thumb toying with your clit again. You're so swollen and hot and absolutely wrecked and Travis can't help but think that he's never seen anything so beautiful. His fingers move faster, TK is desperate to push you over the edge again, needs to make you fall apart again. And before you know it, you are.

You can't speak this time, moaning incoherently. A few tears slip down your face, you're so so sensitive and fuck, he's fucking you through it with his fingers. You feel destroyed when you come down from your high, but you need Travis, you need his cock inside you. TK eases his fingers out of you, pussy clenching around him as he does so. He licks his fingers clean, keeping his eyes locked with you.

Your legs feel weak, so you just let them fall open when TK stands and moves out from between them. What a sight you must be, you think, flushed and red and swollen, pussy on display for anyone that were to walk in. You look absolutely wrecked and looking down at you, Travis can't help but feel proud that he's the one you're wrecked for.

“Love you like this,” he mumbles, a blush creeping up his neck as if he's embarrassed to tell you what he's thinking. “All spread out ‘n marked up like this. You look so beautiful like this. All mine.” Your half lidded eyes blink slowly up at him, and you think for a split second that he might feel the same. Nolan’s words echo in your head. ‘Why aren't you two together already? He’s whipped, I’m sick of watching him make googly eyes at you like that’ which he immediately followed up with a faux gag.

The notion that he might feel for you like you do for him is gone in a split second when he starts to strip. He was just here to fuck. You'd return the favor and take care of him next time he has a tough loss, that was it.

Even if your thing or whatever this was hurt you, God, he was beautiful. He lets his gray t-shirt fall to the floor and reaches for his belt, unbuckling the leather and then unbuttoning his jeans. The denim falls to floor, quickly followed by Calvin Klein boxers. He was so fucking big, every time you two fucked, you doubted that he'd fit.

Travis clambers on the bed, sliding his hips in between your legs. The head of his cock catches on your slit and you let out a moan. TK’s calloused hand comes up to your face to brush a strand of curly hair from your face. “Imma make you feel good, pretty girl.”

“You already have,” you chirp back, earning a soft laugh from him.

“Don't want me inside you then?” Travis teases back. “That’s alright then, I can go.” You make a noise of protest and your hand comes up to cup the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to yours. It's the first proper kiss you've had all night, soft, slow, gently. This kiss isn't like your usual kisses; those were rushed, desperate. He kisses you desperately, but for another reason, and slowly. You let the warmth flood your belly. He wants to take care of you.

His hand cups your jaw, pulling away from you for a moment to change the angle, scruff along his jaw rubbing deliciously against your face. You tug gently at his bottom lip, cupping his face with both your hands. You hope that the way you kiss him conveys every emotion you feel for him. You don't think you can handle the humiliation of admitting your feelings out loud, so the kiss will have to do.

While your lips are connected, Travis sinks into you without warning. You break away from him to moan loudly. He’s slowly inching his cock into your waiting, soaked pussy. “That's it, honey,” he moans. “Thatta girl. You can take it honey, I got you. Take all of me.” And you do. You're so stretched and full by the time he's bottomed out that you think he's gonna split you in half. He's so fucking long and thick and you think you've never been so stuffed before.

“Trav-fuck you feel so fucking good.” The corners of Travis’s mouth curl up at your words, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Think you can look at me, baby?” he questions softly, running his thumb over your lip. “Want you to look at me when you come, honey, wanna see you.” Your eyes slowly open again, eyelids feeling heavy.

“Mhm,” is all you can manage before he's moving. His movements aren't like the usual quick, rough, thrusts. He's grinding into you, the skin of his pelvis barely disconnecting from you. His hips roll against you, and he's hitting a spot so deep in you you've never felt it before, and you definitely don't think anyone will be able to fuck you like this ever again. He's ruined all other men for you.

You say his name like a prayer, and he's the fucking god. Travis connects your lips again, swallowing all the moans leaving your mouth. You keen and writhe for him, he's so good, he's so so good.

“Want you to come again, baby, m’not gonna last long,” come his words against your mouth. “Think you can do that for me? Come one more time for me, baby?” You nod, forehead pressed against his. You yelp when he reached down to press his thumb against your clit.

“Come for me honey, open your eyes, look at me when you come.” The authority in his voice leaves you no choice but to obey. It’s so hard to keep your eyes open when your orgasm hits, but the way he's looking at you - fuck you love the way he looks at you. Like the only thing in the world. Like he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. Like he loves you.

“Ah! Fuck! Travis!”

TK let's out an animalistic moan, actually thrusting this time as he fucks into you, chasing his orgasm and dragging yours out. “Fuck! Y/N! I’m coming, Y/N, fuck.” He grips your hips, stilling and muscles clenching as he shoots ropes of his cum into you. And you can feel him, fuck, you can feel him inside you, thrusting a couple more times to make sure his cum stays in you, before slowly dragging himself out. You whine at the way he stretches you out and then you feel empty.

Travis doesn't bother to clean either of you up, just slipping you both under the covers and wrapping an arm around your waist. You wonder why it hasn't occurred to you how tired he must be - a long road trip and coming back to fuck you. He presses soft kisses all over your face, causing you to giggle and push him away by the shoulder. You can feel his smile against the skin of your neck, where you're all marked up, his beautiful smile.

“You okay, honey?” he murmurs. “Better now?” You hum a soft yes.

You lay in silence for a few minutes before you break it, “Trav?”

“Hmm? What's up pretty girl?” he slurs, drawing patterns into your thigh. Your voice is raw, throat rough from exertion.

“I think-” you force yourself to continue. “I think I found someone, maybe, I don't know. I don't know if he...if he feels the same.” TK is wide awake at that.

He tries to hide the hurt he feels when he speaks. “You’re seeing someone?”

“Well-” you pause. Did this count? “Not exactly, we've been...hooking up. I like him a lot. I might even love him. My mom really likes him too. But I don't think he feels the same.”

He feels his heart break. Your mom likes this mystery man, and if there's one thing that Travis knows, is that your mom liking the people in your life is the most important thing to you. And even worse, TK isn’t only one that’s been in your bed. You’re his. “Who?” TK sounds hurt, heartbroken, and for some fucked up reason it gives you a rush of confidence - he does like you! And you know that this is the moment that changes everything.

“The only other person that has the key to my apartment.” You find the courage to turn to look at him. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

“But that's…” his eyes widen in realization. “That's me,” he breathes. “Oh thank God. I thought you didn't feel the same and Nolan kept telling me to fucking ask you out on a date and I didn't know how to tell him that we were already sleeping together and that I’m literally in love with you and that I didn't think that you like me like that and-” You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you, Travis.” You can help the smile that overtakes your face. “But I’m tired, and completely fucked out, and I wanna sleep. We can talk about the first date in the morning, hm?”

“After I fuck you awake,” Travis grins, and he leans in to kiss you.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Persephone | John Wick x Reader (Four)

Words: 2824

Warning: Usual JW-verse violence

Previously: John Wick saved you from the Instructor’s hold and you agree to help him and the Bowery King take down the High Table as you recover your memories. Building up a force to rise up against the overseeing power of the Table would take time and you may have contacts that could help. You and John returned to your old apartment and retrieve your belongings where you hoped to find something to jog your memory. Meanwhile, Marion sends men after the two of you, but you’ve managed to predict her movements.

-

“Is there a reason why you took my dog hostage?” John asked when he walked in on you hugging his dog on your bed.

“It’s called cuddling, Jonathan,” you muttered into the dog’s fur, “it helps with stress. Is there a reason why you’re here?”

“Do you not want me to be?” John hovered closer until you patted the mattress. He sat down next to you, causing his dog’s tail to wag. You released him, then fell back on your pillows, your feet behind John.

“Of course I want you here, but unfortunately, you don’t come by simply for the pleasure of my company.”

John sighed. “The Bowery King is looking for some contacts that may help because of you. We just need to wait.”

You studied him, his eyes seemingly more tired than the last time you saw him, but not as stiff or cautious. You patted the pillow next to you. He hesitated, looking at the empty space. His dog moved onto his lap and kept pushing him down every time he tried to get up and leave, so he eventually relented. John shifted around until he was lying next to you with his dog near both of your feet.

“I can’t even remember the faces of my mother and father,” you found yourself saying as you stared at the ceiling.

John looked at you, then turned his head to face the ceiling. “I was an orphan when the Director found me,” he said, “I was a thief trying to get by. She saw my potential and trained me, gave me a purpose.”

You hummed, shifting around to your side so you could get a good view of his side profile. “What are you going to do once all of this is over?”

He gave it a good thought and said, “I got out because of Helen, but now the only memory that remains is in my mind. I want time to grieve and honor her memory properly. She’d want me to be happy and move on, to have something or someone to care for and love. You?”

What were you going to do? The night that you first met him, all you were focused on was getting revenge, so you haven’t thought of anything after that. The Bowery King promised to help you start a new life somewhere, under a new name perhaps. Maybe in a different country, spending your days traveling.

“I’ve always wanted to see the northern lights,” you finally said, “the only times that I’ve seen any constellations in the sky were during missions away from the city. Even then, I had no time to admire them. I want to see something other than darkness and street lights at night.”

“A vacation would be nice.”

-

Marion was seething as she inspected the damage done from the explosion. The clean up crew had already removed the bodies, but the room itself needed more time for repairs. It was chalked off as a minor gas explosion, and maybe it was, but not from the gas tank in the kitchenette. In fact, it had been removed recently, it seemed, as the maintenance had no idea that it was missing.

The Instructor would have her head if he finds out that she sent people to kill you and John Wick. Personally, she didn’t care that the Instructor and his sister before him had plans for you. Mario never understood what was so special. The both of you had the same training, sent to similar missions.

She asked herself if the Instructor would have given you a second chance if you were in her shoes, but the Instructor’s voice in her head said that you wouldn’t have made a slip up like she did and if it wasn’t for John Wick being involved, the Instructor would have terminated her.

Five years of babysitting that oblivious girl, she thought, and there was no need for her.

She’ll just have to focus on separating you and John Wick. It’ll be difficult. He is known as the man to call to kill the Boogeyman and from what Marion had heard, five years of retirement hadn’t slowed him down.

-

John gingerly brushed a hair out of your face, a frown forming while you dreamed. He laid on his side next to you after you fell asleep while talking to him. He wondered if he would have seen you again if he hadn’t gone back to the Underworld. If he hadn’t come back, would you still be under the Instructor until they had some use for you? He was surprised that you had that much trust in him after what they had done to you. An experience like that would have him lose trust in everyone.

That led him to wonder, why keep you around without giving you orders? He thought back to the first Instructor. She wanted to make a network that infiltrated each mob and take control from within, rising up the ranks until they had the authority to do what she wanted them to do. She was good at giving orders, not following them and when the Director warned her that it’ll fail, she hadn’t listen.

Whatever she had planned for you, he knew that he was going to protect you. Maybe even show you the Northern Lights himself when all of it was over. It had been a long time since he smiled from the meer sight of someone, especially the way you laughed at his dog’s antics, the way your eyes light up as you explained one of your projects, or the gentleness and care that you had towards him.

You start to stir in your sleep, a small whimper escaping your lips as your face scrunched up in pain. John’s dog stood from his spot at your feet and made a noise of concern, sensing your distress.

“(Y/n),” John said softly, sitting up with one arm supporting his weight.

“No, no, no,” you mumbled, kicking your feet.

John’s dog jumped to the floor and sat near your head. He looked up at his owner to do something, not liking you upset. John silently agreed with his dog, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/n),” he tried again, “wake up, it’s me, John.”

Your hand shot out and yanked his hand away from you, pushing him down while your other hand went for his throat. John watched you carefully as your eyes, now wide and alert, started to tear up when you realized what you’ve done. He held out his hands then slowly removed your right hand from his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you croaked, removing yourself from him.

John sat back up and pulled you into a tight embrace. “It’s okay,” he said, feeling your tears soaking his shirt.

“What did I do, what did I do,” you kept repeating.

John shushed you, rocking you back and forth. You took in a few deep breaths and exhaled, his scent filling your nostrils and calming you. His dog whined, still sitting obediently on the floor. John patted the bed, making room for him. He nudged his nose in between you two, licking the tears from your face. A watery laugh bubbled out of you as you were pulled away from John. You hugged the pit bull and kissed his forehead, cooing about how he was such a good boy. John smiled, almost jealous of his own dog at the attention he was getting.

He reached out and wiped your cheeks, holding your head between his two large hands. “You’re okay now,” he said. It wasn’t a question, more of a reassurance.

You nodded. “Thank you. I, uh, didn’t know you were still going to be here.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No…” You tried to hide your face in embarrassment of how silly and vulnerable you sounded, but his hands held you firmly. You sighed, leaning into him again and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “This is nice. I don’t know if I can go back to sleep now.”

“Why don’t we go to your workshop?” John suggested.

You agreed, reluctantly letting John go and putting on your socks and shoes. His dog jumped off the bed and followed the two of you out the room. You could hear the tapping of his nails close behind as you and John walked side by side.

“You should really give him a name,” you said, looking at the precious pitbull.

“I never got to stop and think of one,” John said dismissively.

You hummed, knowing there was more to it, but you didn’t push. “So the device I made earlier seems to work, but I’ll need to make a few adjustments,” you said to change the subject.

“A timed gas bomb that’s released into the air, undetected, and explodes as a reaction to a gun firing. How did you come up with that idea?”

You smiled proudly. “A comic book.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Huh.”

He remained silent after that, but you didn’t mind. You went on to tell him how your life had been during those five years of having no memories. How the Instructor’s people would provide you with an apartment and gave you the job at the flower shop to keep you busy. Their excuse for having Marion and sometimes other people following you around was to protect you from whoever that made you lose your memory.

“I remember the time they started whispering about Baba Yaga,” you said with a smirk, “I was confused, of course. Why would they be talking about an old haggard witch with a hut that moves around on chicken legs?”

“I’ve been aware that my nickname had been lost in translation, turning from the Boogeyman to Baba Yaga,” John mused, “what did they say?”

“That Baba Yaga was back. I knew something was off because I hadn’t pictured an old witch when they said that.”

“What did you picture?”

You cleared your throat. “Oh, look, we’re here!” You walked ahead of him and unlocked the room, John’s dog immediately taking your spot on the desk chair once the door was open.

John lingered at the doorway, watching you lift the pit bull up and place him on your lap once you were seated. You looked up and smiled at him, gesturing to come in. John closed the door behind him and leaned against your desk. You tried to shuffle around while John’s dog sat obediently on your lap, but you eventually managed to get your blueprints out.

“So you wanted that hidden blade, huh?” you asked John, pulling out the schematics for it, “I can make another one for you. I just need the measurement for your arm. You also need to be careful when activating it. Don’t want to lose another finger, do you?”

John grimaced, taking off his jacket and rolling up his left sleeve. You got out the measuring tape and moved over to him. The measurement wasn’t completely necessary, as you could make adjustable straps to fit around his wrist, but you may or may not have been finding more excuses to hold his hand.

His dog jumped off of your lap, giving you more freedom of movement. You took his left arm, noting how big his hands were and how he could easily choke you with it if he wanted to. Probably smother your face with it, too.

“You think they put back the bounty after they couldn’t find you?” you asked him as you wrote down the measurements on a scratch paper while still holding his arm with your other hand.

“Possibly. They won’t stop until I’m dealt with,” John said gruffly.

“And you won’t stop either.”

“Yeah.”

You sighed, wrapping your hands around his. “And you’re not going to be doing this alone,” you told him firmly, looking into his warm brown eyes with determination. He may by the Boogeyman, one of the best assassins in the Underworld, but being the best can be quite lonely and exhausting.

John was the first to look away, pulling his hand from your grip and went to fix his sleeve. “Yeah.”

You purse your lips, frowning. “Fine. I’ll get the blade done in a few hours. You can pick it up later.”

Noticing the change in your mood, John simply nodded and started towards the door. When he looked back, your head was hanging low, your pencil lazily flowing across the paper in front of you. His dog whined at your feet, laying a paw on your thigh. You looked down and scratched his ear. A small smile found its way to your lips as the pit bull licked your hand. He really took a liking to you.

John opened the door, his dog’s ears perking up as he scrambled to go to his human’s side. John walked a couple of feet away from your workshop before kneeling next to his dog. “Stay with (Y/n),” John whispered.

His dog’s head tilted to the side then lunged at John’s face to kiss him. John let out a quiet chuckle before nudging him away. The pit bull's tail wagged, then he turned around and trotted back to your workshop. Once his dog was out of sight, he pulled out the hidden blade that he took from your desk and adjusted it on his wrist.

You looked up from your drawing to hear a familiar tapping coming towards you. John’s dog appeared again, happily returning to your side. You smiled, grateful for the dog’s presence, but wondered where John had gone. He was always with John.

“Wait here, boy,” you ordered him. The dog sat down by your desk and waited.

You slowly walked to your door and peeked outside. John was nowhere to be found. You frowned, going back to your desk, feeling a twist in your gut, making you anxious. The only time his dog wasn’t with him is when he was off on a dangerous mission. You were hoping that John wouldn’t have to go off alone anymore, that you were there ready to help him. That was the main reason you were there, wasn’t it?

You took out the vorpal blade from your desk drawer and twirled it around, pausing to trace the vine-like patterns with your eyes. Something tugged at the back of your mind, like yanking a file folder jammed between the sides of the drawer. You sighed, getting up to pace around as if it’ll help pull it free. You continued to twirl the blade, faster and faster as you feel the folder giving way until…

You threw the blade towards a crack in the wall as the folder finally got free. John’s dog jumped, rushing to your side. You closed your eyes and opened the folder. Interesting.

-

Even beyond the grave, the Instructor was a thorn on his side.

John remembered walking into her office that night of his impossible task. She was at her desk, taking a long drag from a cigar as she leaned back in her chair. Her eyes widened as the one and only John Wick strode into her office, a gun trained to her head.

“You killed my men,” she said accusingly, “who sent you?”

John remained quiet.

“Silent as ever, I see. But I do want to know who bothered to hire the Boogeyman to kill me and my network.” The Instructor crossed her legs and cocked her head to the side, waiting.

“It’s not much of you being a major threat, you were just an annoyance,” John finally answered, walking up to her.

The Instructor glowered. “I see. Still high and mighty as ever, Jardani.”

“The Director always said your plans would fall through. I guess you hadn’t counted for one of your own to turn on you.”

She was confused at this, letting out a huff in disbelief. “My people are loyal. They can’t even think for themselves. How would they be able to consider betraying me? There’s nowhere else they could possibly turn to. They’re all trained as double agents, ready to turn on the mob I’ve planted them in so I could seize control. Betraying me will oust them as a traitor to that mob.”

John raised his gun again, pressing the barrel against her forehead. “Persephone.”

At the mention of your name, she smirked, closing her eyes. “Ah. Of course.”

Then he pulled the trigger.

John had known her brother briefly, as he had left the care of the Director early on, but he knew that they were different. While the first Instructor was good in training others and creating goals, her brother was more calculative and knew how to set out to retrieve those goals.

“Caius, I know you’re here,” John called out in the abandoned factory, his voice bouncing off the brick walls.

The new instructor, Caius, chuckled, appearing behind John. “Oh, Jardani. Look at what you’ve got yourself into.”

-

Taglist:

@venusgothic @weappreciatepower @anita-e-taylor @mikaneonox @sparrowsparrow @introvertedmegalomaniac  (idk why it won’t let me tag you normally)

[headcanonsforcompanions]

I had a daydream that ran away with itself while thinking about my newest and most precious Sole (her name is Rebecca) and how excited I am about the Romance Nick mod I found a little bit ago and I needed to share it.  I’m sorry that it’s so long but I just got really excited about it!!!

Sole had been bugging Nick for a while about getting married; half-teasing, half-serious.  They’d been together for so long that nobody can really remember when their friendship progressed into romance, but it kinda just happened.

One day Nick, who because of his pre-war past memories felt very iffy about the idea of marriage even though it wasn’t his own worries, finally relented, but said he would only do it if they found a priest and if she wore a real wedding dress, knowing that Sole hated dressed and thinking she’d never find one.  He did want to marry her, don’t be mistaken, but he was terrified that something would happen to one of them and then she would be alone… He realized it was irrational, especially since they had so many friends and companions that would look after her, but after what happened with Jenny the old Nick’s anxieties wouldn’t relent.  So the conditions were set in place, even though he knew that once they found someone to officiate he would be willing.  The dress didn’t matter as much to him, but he wanted it to be traditional because he knew it would matter to her whether or not she was willing to admit it.

A few expectedly excited friends – Ellie, Piper, Ellie, Codsworth, Ellie, and did I mention that Ellie was excited?? – and a few relatively unexpected supporters – Cait, MacCready, and Deacon (who was way more excited than anyone expected him to be) – persuaded Hancock to officiate (somehow, in the several hundred years he’s been alive, he actually was ordained to officiate weddings pre-war style) and someone found a really nice pre-war wedding dress. 

Rumours would fly around about who left it in the house behind the Sanctuary workshop on Sole’s bed – but nobody would come forward and say they found it.  It was a bit rough around the edges, so to speak, but a mysterious someone had carefully, secretly, painstakingly fixed it up… it looked amazing, and it was just Sole’s size too.  Not many people knew how to sew that well, so it was probably easy to narrow down… but if they wanted it to be kept a secret, Sole wasn’t going to start interrogating people.

Despite pre-war tradition, there was no “best man”.  Why would there be?  Nick’s best friend and long-time partner, Ellie Perkins, deserved to be his Best Woman.  There was no debate or hard decisions to be had when Nick thought about it.

She cried when he asked her.

Sole, on the other hand, had a hard time choosing who was going to be her witness.  Preston Garvey, the man who introduced her to the Commonwealth and helped her settle in her new environment, or Piper Wright, the woman who helped her rescue Nick in the first place?  Ultimately, she decided on Preston, since other than Codsworth he’d known Sole the longest, and had become like a brother to her.

Preston also cried when she asked him.  Like a sobbing, blubbering baby.  Sole had never seen him cry before, and she was quite startled.  She didn’t know his tear-ducts were even functional.  It took him twenty minutes and a long cuddle from Dogmeat to stop crying.

And speaking of Dogmeat, guess who was the ringbearer?

It was years later – after the whole Institute situation, after she’d found and lost her son, after she and Nick had pseudo-adopted the Synth boy Shaun, after they’d met DiMA, after many missions and injuries and arguments and plenty of make-up sex – that Sole finally found out who found her the wedding dress.  And she was pleasantly and thoroughly surprised; the source was completely unexpected.

Paladin Danse, who had a (mutual) strong dislike for Nick but was incredibly fond of Sole, had stumbled across it while doing a sweep of an old mall, but it was in pretty rough shape when he found it, and he didn’t know how to sew.  He secretly brought it back to Sanctuary with him, and quietly asked a very excited Piper – surprisingly, the only person he trusted to keep the secret – if she could fix it for him.  Unfortunately for him, Piper is a very amateur seamstress and can only do basic hems and fixes.  She learned how to sew by fixing Nat’s toys and sewing up her own injuries, and had never gone very far beyond that.  He wondered aloud who else he could ask, who knew how to sew well. 

Just then, luckily enough for poor Danse, someone else wandered into the room looking for Piper… someone who was a fantastic tailor, someone who was perfectly willing to fix it up, so long as Danse and Piper wouldn’t judge him for the fact that when he saw the dress he too cried.  (Weddings make people emotional, alright??)

Danse left it in this saviour’s care, making him promise that it would be ready when Sole needed it.

But the night before the wedding, Sole was distraught – Nick agreed to set a date, despite her insistence that she hadn’t found a dress yet, and it was the night before the wedding and she STILL hadn’t found one, and despite Piper’s assurances otherwise she was convinced that if she didn’t have a dress then Nick would change his mind about the whole thing and either put it off or outright cancel it.  Of course, she was completely wrong for a number of reasons, but she was too upset to see reason…

Being a supportive friend, Piper spent hours with Sole in Concord, scouring old suitcases for a decent pre-war dress just in case; despite hers and Danse’s trust that the dress would be ready (even though they didn’t know for sure), Sole was adamant and stressed about looking her best and about having a dress.  (in her distress, she didn’t quite grasp that Nick would have gladly married her with or without the dress, despite his earlier ‘conditions’)

When they got back to Sanctuary Hills, Sole satisfied with a clean blue pre-war knee-length summer dress in hand, they walked into the empty bedroom that Sole and Nick shared (Nick had spent the day making some last-minute arrangements with Hancock, and since neither of them really need to sleep, they spent the entire night talking and reminiscing)… and found a beautiful sparkly white pre-war wedding dress, adorned with a few slightly dirty pearls that Piper was sure weren’t there before.

Sole cried.  Piper teared up a little, but she saved her tears for the morning.  She definitely shed them then, though.

After all those years and after finally learning who found the dress, via a long drunken night with Piper who spilled almost all the beans, Sole was incredibly touched that Danse would do such a thing despite he and Nick really not liking each other… but even in her drunken state, Piper still wouldn’t tell Sole who fixed the dress.

After Piper passed out on her couch, Sole stumbled almost unsuccessfully from the house where Piper stayed to her own with Nick and Shaun – only two doors down, but Sole had had quite a few drinks and had honestly nearly wandered into Preston’s house instead before realizing that his door was in fact not orange. 

Nick looked up from the Grognak comic he was reading on the couch, waiting for Sole, as he heard her stumble in through the door.  Chuckling to himself and shaking his head, he got up to help her into their bedroom and realized her eyes were red from crying.  

“What happened, darling?"  Concerned that she was upset about something, he lifted her face with his hand to meet his eye.  

"Piper tol’ me that mister Paladin Danse himself was th’ one who foun’ my weddin’ dress… I’m jus’ so happy…"  She slurred, tugging Nick’s sleeve dramatically. "But I know he dunno how t’ sew… she sai’ someone else fixed it up… she wouldn’ tell me who…"  

Nick blinked.  After all these years, after all this secrecy, Piper spilled the beans because she was hammered out of her mind?  He wasn’t surprised that out of the three of them who knew the secret that Piper would be the one to break the silence, but he figured she would just eventually get tired of keeping a secret from her best friend.  He didn’t think alcohol would have to be involved.  

But, he admitted to himself as he silently helped Sole into bed as she rambled on about other things she had discussed with Piper, he was glad Piper still kept the biggest part of the secret.  He was surprised, too; Piper usually has no filter when she’s drunk, but that’s a story for another time.

Someday, Nick Valentine, Synth Detective, would be willing to tell Sole that he was the one who repaired her wedding dress, lovingly and carefully and through many tears of joy… but not yet.

[lightsburnbrite]

The Devil is in the Details: Part 11

@i-want--to--believe

“It’s just…” Karina kept her eyes on the television, scrolling through Netflix in an attempt to find something to watch. “I guess I don’t understand why you think that’s something you need to know.”

Standing in the kitchen, Leon was frustrated that he was speaking to the back of her head, but he figured if it was easier for Karina to have the conversation that way then he’d need to let it go. “I never said it’s something that I needed to know. I’m simply asking and hoping that you’ll give me an answer.”

“Why are you even asking is my question.” She really wanted to snap back that it was non of his fucking business. Then again, he was her husband and maybe that did bring an expectation of honesty and transparency. “What does it even matter to you?”

She heard Leon sigh before he began his response. “When we first started seeing each other, Strohmann called my agent and asked for me to meet with him. He told me about his plans to leave everything to you but I think he was also just checking me out. He assumed that we had slept together at that point and remarked that you were…he described you as being adventurous.”

“And you feel like you’re missing out?” Karina openly scoffed as she turned to face him now. “I guess I’m not kinky enough for you?”

Leon covered his face with his hands as he leaned back against the counter. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m just trying to figure out if I’m doing enough for you.”

Karina stayed silent. It wasn’t until she spoke again that Leon realized she was trying to find a way to answer him. “Just because I did things that he asked me to or let him do things to me doesn’t necessarily mean that I wanted it. I can be a willing participant but not enjoy it.”

“Did he rape you?” He took a step forward.

She tried to stop herself from laughing. “Not at all, Marwin made sure I consented to everything. All I’m saying is that just because I consented doesn’t mean it’s something I want to do again. I didn’t go along with everything he wanted but I did with most.”

“What did you not want to do?” Leon felt like he was prying now but his curiosity was peaked.

Looking down at her feet, Karina rolled her eyes when she brought them back to his. “He liked multiple partners at once. A lot of times he’d throw these huge parties that ended with group sex. He encouraged me to attend but when I said no, that was fine with him. I’d sit with him at dinner and then go back to my room when things started up. In the end I think he liked it better that way because none of his friends could have me but he had all of their side girls.”

“Can I ask…” Leon paused, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer, but decided to continue. “What did you go along with?”

Karina scrunched her mouth up, eventually relaxing it again before shrugging her shoulders and letting her head tilt slightly. “He liked to tie me up and go down on me, use toys on me but he wouldn’t let me come…so edging basically. Light bondage and punishment…I did like it when he’d put me over his knee and finger me. The pegging, not so much.”

“Pegging?” Leon furrowed his brow causing Karina to laugh.

“Pegging is, well,” Karina smirked, imagining Leon would get a kick out her answer. “I used a strap on to fuck him.”

“No.” He immediately shook his head. “No thank you.”

She smirked now. “If you were listening you would have heard that I did not enjoy that.”

“So there’s really nothing that you did with him that you want to do with me?” Leon made sure his tone conveyed his concern for Karina.

As hard as she tried, Karina could not help her look of exasperation. “It was my job to please him. I enjoy sex so much more with you because I love you.”

“Oh God, Maus.” Leon walked over to her now and gently tugged on her hand so she’d stand up. “I just want you to be happy.”

With a laugh, Karina shook her head before resting it against Leon’s chest. “I am, you big dork.”

“Am I over thinking this?” Leon raised an eyebrow as he rested his chin atop her head.

“Definitely.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she gave him a squeeze before stepping back. “Now get your ass on the sofa and cuddle me while we watch some stupid movie.”

Once they had settled on the sofa, Leon felt Karina let out a sigh in which her whole body seemed to melt into his.

“You know,” her voice heavy with sleep, “Our sex life could be a third of what it is and it would still be better because of shit like this.”

Leon had been tracing small patterns along the back of her neck with his thumb. “What do you mean?”

“It was…whatever it was that I had with Marwin that wasn’t enough for me.” She sighed again. “I know that you want to be with me. He could have replaced me in a heartbeat and it wouldn’t have made any difference to him.”

Leon sat for a moment, his arm resting around Karina’s shoulder. He could have let Karina continue to think that she meant nothing to Marwin but that didn’t sit right with him. “But he didn’t.”

“What?” Karina sat up straighter, genuinely curious in what he meant.

“He didn’t replace you.” He decided to run his fingers through her hair, a small act of reassurance. “I think he cared about you a lot more than he let on. That’s why he wanted to meet me as well. He was checking me out to make sure that I would be good for you.”    

Karina frowned but didn’t respond.

“Listen,” Leon kissed her temple now. “I’m not trying to bring anything up, I just don’t like the idea of you thinking you don’t mean anything to someone.”

Closing her eyes, Karina rested her head against Leon’s shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t care about anyone else. Just you.”

That got a laugh out of Leon. “I love you too, Maus.”

The pair had developed a ritual whenever Leon was about to leave for any length of time. They’d order in and then get ice cream while taking Elsa for her evening walk. There’d be some vegging on the sofa followed by a bubble bath before retreating to their bedroom.

Leon wrapped his arm around Karina’s waist as she leaned against him.  “You’ve had a nice little break from work.”

“Mhmm.” Karina could barely keep her eyes open at this point. “But this is just the beginning.”

“What do you mean?” Kissing her shoulder, Leon situated himself to be more on their side.

With a sigh, she relented and closed her eyes. “I’m going to tell Nena that I quit. Can you rub my back, please?”    

“Yeah,” He slid his hand under her shirt and started tracing his fingers along the length of her spine. “Are you sure that’s what you really want to do?”

When Karina took more than a few moments to respond, Leon more or less had his answer but he wanted to hear what her thoughts were.

“No? I don’t know.” She inhaled deeply. “I don’t want to go to Nena and force her to fire Daniel but I won’t work with him.”

Leon’s back rub had turned into more of a shoulder massage now but he continued to place a few kisses wherever he could. “Is it really that bad? I mean, if you like working there can’t you just ignore him?”

Karina sat up now, her shoulder’s slumped before she tilted her head back. “Babe, I…”

Her voice cracked a bit and suddenly Leon regretted the question. “I can, but why should I have to? I’ve told him that I’m not interested in being friends, you told him that we were married but that didn’t really seem to stop him. Instead, he goes and tells people that you beat me up.”

“That was him? Asshole.” Leon moved himself lower in the bed so he could rest his head on Karina’s thigh.

“Yep.” Karina ran her fingers through his hair a few times before she swinger her legs over the side of the bed, disturbing Leon’s impromptu call massage. “See what I mean?”

“I do…” Leon frowned and rolled over on to his stomach. He knew Karina was already tired and agitated and now he had gotten her wound up again. “Ok, can you come back to bed and we’ll talk more?”

With a smile, Karina turned to him and kissed his forehead. “Yes, but I need to pee first.”

Leon smirked and laid back down before calling out to her. “Why don’t you at least talk to Nena? I’d hate for you to walk away from something that makes you happy.”

Karina walked back in and stood next to his side of the bed. “That’s probably not a bad idea.”

Holding out her hand, Karina silently asked Leon to stand next to her. Once he was out of bed, Leon placed his hand on the back of Karina’s neck and kissed her temple before resting his forehead against her’s. “What do you need, little one?”

Karina let out an exasperated laugh at the nickname Leon had adopted for her when he was feeling overly protective. “I don’t know. I’m just in a funk and all I want is for you to hold me but you have to go away…”

“I’m sorry.” Leon kissed her lips this time and started to speak again before Karina cut him off by shaking her head.

“It’s not your fault. I know it’s your job.” She buried her face in his chest before looking back at him. “Then I get mad at myself for pouting. I’m actually really proud to say that you're with the national team when anyone asks where you are.”

Leon wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. “At least it’s not very long, Less than a week, ok?”

“Ok.” Karina giggled as Leon kissed the tip of her nose. “Thank you for being so understanding with me.”

“It goes both ways, you know.” Resting his hand on the back of Karina’s neck, Leon pulled her back against him so he could embrace her. “You think it’s all me being patient with you but you’re right there with me, calling me out on whatever bullshit comes up and making me better for it.”

Karina smiled but looked away causing Leon to give her another reassuring squeeze. “I mean it, Maus. You make me a better person.”

“Ok, enough of this. I want coherent enough to go for breakfast before you have to leave in the morning.” Karina took him gently by the chin and winked before climbing back on the bed.

Scratching the back of his head, Leon pretended to shrug. “Would now be a good time to mention that I told my parents we’d visit next weekend?”

“Nice try.” She stretched her hand out in another silent invitation. “But you owe me cuddles.”

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 29)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 5k story words: 233k (so far) chapter: 29/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: it’s holiday break, so i guess i’m back to my 2am posting schedule whoops lol. as always, much love to @auroraphilealis for all her help. earlier today, i asked her to edit before i wrote more of this chapter because i wasn't sure how much more to include without making things seem rushed and she was like "actually, i think you should end it here" so yeah, it's a bit short, but i was secretly thinking it before she said it, too, so it must be right lol. i'm v v v pumped for the next few chapters though omg do we have things in store.

Dan hurried out of his bedroom, pulling his potato sack of a sweater over his head as he left. The two minutes since the lift had dinged with Louise’s arrival already felt like too long, and at this point, he knew any further delay was risky.

He hadn’t bothered to find trousers — the only ones he’d seen on the floor were his tight as fuck jeans from last night, and he certainly wasn’t going to try to pull those back on. And lord knew he wasn’t going to take the time to dig around for something more comfortable. He’d known Louise for far too long to trust that she wouldn’t bang on his bedroom door if he didn’t make an appearance quickly. And if he didn’t answer the bedroom door fast enough… well, it was probably safe to assume that her and Phil would suddenly be much better acquainted.

Socks, pants, and a massive sweater would have to do.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Dan hollered as he rushed down the hallway, just in case she hadn’t heard him slam the bedroom door behind him as he made his hasty exit. Adrenaline was still pumping through him, not allowing him to lose sight of the whirlwind of the last twenty-four hours. Both the sex and the productive, healthy talking had left Dan in an excellent mood, and he felt like the happy energy was bubbling out of him.

“In the lounge!” Louise called back. “Bring your computer charger, I forgot mine!” she tacked on.

“Fine, you needy goose!” Dan shouted, not sounding nearly as aggravated as he’d intended; he didn’t have it in him to actually be annoyed with Louise demanding things right now. He diverted into his music room, and quickly grabbed his charger from where it was still plugged into his laptop next to his guitar.

Dan shuffled down the hallway quickly, unable to make himself slow down and walk at a proper pace. He was still going slightly too fast when he turned into the lounge, causing him to accidentally slide around the corner and crash into Louise, who was pouring herself a glass of water at the bar cart.

“Hello there, bear,” Louise greeted with a smile, her arms automatically wrapping around him for a quick hug.

Dipping his head down, Dan pressed a chaste peck to her cheek. “Hi, Lou,” he said cheerfully with a wide, beaming smile that did nothing to tone down how good he was currently feeling.

Louise’s eyes darted behind Dan, peeking through the door over his shoulder. “I assumed Phil was still here…” she trailed off, her words not quite coming out as a question.

“Oh, he is,” Dan confirmed slyly, flashing Louise an impish grin. “He had a small problem that he needed to calm down from before he could be social, though.” Dan winked, sounding extra cheeky, even though Louise had definitely known Dan long enough that his words needed no further explanation.

“Daniel James Howell!” Louise gasped dramatically, a look of mock-outrage on her face. “Were you actually in the middle of sex when I showed up?” Her eyes scanned down Dan, properly taking in his outfit — or lack thereof — for the first time since he’d slid into the room. Her eyes were stern and her hands were on her hips, but Dan could see a smile tugging at her lips.

“No!” Dan defended hastily, although a smile was pulling at his lips as he remembered what him and Phil had gotten up to not too long ago. “We’ve been… done for a while. Not my fault he got all worked up when I checked my phone.”

Louise’s eyebrows quickly knitted together, and her head cocked to the side. “Usually not a sexual thing, Dan…” she noted, a humorous lilt in her voice.

Unable to resist, Dan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Not unless you’re naked and it looks like you’re riding him…”

“Wait. Have you — did you —” Louise abruptly stopped mid-sentence, eye narrowed and lips tipped up into a hint of a mischievous smile. Dan raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Louise started over, “Did you talk or just mess around today?”

A shy giggle escaped Dan’s mouth, and he shrugged, tipping his head to the side. “Both, actually,” Dan admitted bashfully. “He pushed for us to talk, then we messed around, then we talked again.”

Louise stared at him for a moment, looking contemplative. Finally, she seemed to settle on a response, and a sly smile spread across her face. “Okay, I have to know first. What do you mean by mess around?”

Dan laughed loudly. He’d known the gossip who was determined to know every detail of his love life would have inevitably push for more on that particular detail, but he’d kind of expected the manager in Louise to push for more information on their conversation first.

Given how insane the last twenty-some hours had been though, Dan was glad to discover that best-friend-Louise was here, not just manager-Louise. It felt nice to revel in the newness of his relationship — a relationship that was going shocking well and maturely — instead of the massive fuck-fest that was his overall life right now.

“No sex yet, you nosy snoop,” Dan teased, mouth pulled into a wide and saucy smirk. “I’ll call you as soon as he pulls out if you’re that desperate to know.”

Immediately, Louise crinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes, her expression just barely bordering on horrified. “Not that fast, please,” Louise grimaced, her nose scrunched up in mock-horror. “Wait until it’s… back in your pants, at least.”

“Mmmm,” Dan hummed knowingly as he flashed her another devilish grin. “You’re the one that seems so intent on knowing.”

“Not that fast!” Louise defended with a scoff. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and she was shaking her head adamantly. “You freak,” she added moving to sit on the sofa.

“Fine, fine,” Dan relented, his hands held up in playful surrender. A giggle was threatening to break through his voice, though, ruining his attempts to sound exasperated. “If you really think you can wait, then I guess I’ll just force him to cuddle with me afterwards.”

“I’m sure that will be so hard, given how enamoured he is with you,” Louise replied sarcastically.

“It’s not that dramatic,” Dan whined.

“Yeah, right...” Louise trailed off sarcastically, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at the same time. Dan couldn’t help but feel slightly insulted by how much Louise seemed to think him and Phil were more serious than he was saying. Even if it was true.

Louise’s demeanor shifted, then. Her smile was still soft, and Dan could tell that Concerned Friend Louise was still here, but he could see from the subtle way her shoulders pushed back and her voice lowered that Manager Louise was coming, too. “The talking then, tell me about that if you won’t dish on the sex,” Louise pushed.

Averting his eyes to the bar cart, where the flowers were wilting without a proper vase, and the pile of glass was scooped beneath it, Dan mumbled, “Do I have to?”

“As a friend, I’d let it go,” Louise offered with a sympathetic smile, voice soft and understanding. “But as your manager, I kind of need to know if you came to any decisions about where you want to go from here.”

“Fuck, I know,” Dan whined, reluctantly giving in. Glancing over his shoulder, Dan peeked down the empty hallway and ruffled his hair anxiously. “Phil should be out here in a minute. Then we can all talk together.”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up. “You want him to be here when we talk about your next steps?” she asked, a hint of disbelief lacing her tone.

Dan couldn’t help but chuckle — Louise’s skepticism certainly wasn’t completely unwarranted. He’d never, never, let any of his partners join their business discussions before. But Phil was different. Dan had always known that Phil would be different, and after their talk today, he had some idea of how to actually show Phil that he was different. It was hard, and kind of uncomfortable, but Dan was determined to do this right. “Like I said, we talked. I’m trying something new.”

“Aw,” Louise cooed, her hand reaching out to pinch his cheek. “Is little Daniel —”

“Please don’t make a big deal of this, Louise,” Dan cut her off. With an annoyed huff, Dan smacked her hand away and cocked his head out of her reach.

Louise narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, still looking like she was on the verge of taunting him. Dan was well aware of how abnormal this was for him, how whipped and adulty he must sound, but he really didn’t want to get into it. Not right now, not when Phil was bound to barge in at any minute. Silently, he pleaded with wide eyes for Louise to drop the subject.

“Fine,” Louise agreed. “For now,” she amended, shooting Dan a sidelong glance. Letting the topic go, Louise snatched the laptop charger from his hands and plugged her computer in by the armchair. Dan followed her the rest of the way into the lounge and collapsed onto the far end of the sofa, leaving room for Phil to sit. Barely looking up from her computer, Louise mumbled, “I need to pull some stuff up anyway, so we’ll wait for Phil.”

With the exception of Louise’s clicking and typing, the room was silent. Dan fiddled with the hem of his jumper, wishing that he’d remembered his phone. The internet was probably a risky place for him to lurk at the moment, but he was itching to be scrolling through something — even if that something was tumblr post after tumblr post speculating about his recent announcement.

He wondered what people were thinking, how many more had realized that Phil was the boy from last night, if Isabella had said anything yet. He wondered if Isabella had figured out a way to spin his coming out so that it somehow about her, or if new outlets were reaching out to hear her version of the story. Scrolling through twitter and tumblr might not answer the questions beating around his head, but fuck, at least it’d give him something else to concentrate on.

The sound of clumsy footsteps jarred Dan out of his thoughts. Dan glanced up in time to see Phil hovering awkwardly in the doorway. A smug smile tugged at Dan’s lips when he noticed that Phil had pulled on a pair of Dan’s loose, thick pyjama pants instead of his own tight joggers — clearly, Phil still had something to hide.

Apparently Dan wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Phil’s wardrobe change; Louise eyed Phil’s pyjamas with a knowing look, quiet laughter bubbling. Dan made the mistake of catching her gaze, and suddenly they were both cackling over the ridiculousness of the situation.

“G-glad you took a moment to c-calm down there, Philly,” Dan choked out through his laughter. His cheeks hurt from smiling too hard, and he knew they were probably flushed as well.

“Yeah,” Louise added, her own giggles making her words hard to understand. “I guess that m-moment was w-well helpf-ful.”

A bright red flush rushed up Phil’s neck, flooding from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. His blatant embarrassment only seemed to fuel Dan and Louise’s amusement, and they both redoubled into another bout of laughter.

Phil groaned, high pitched and whiny, as he buried his face in his hands. He collapsed onto the sofa, his face still hidden, and sagged against Dan.

“Poor Philly,” Dan cooed, laughter still shaking his shoulders as he pulled Phil closer. It was so fucking refreshing to have a partner that he could tease, a partner that wouldn’t stomp their foot and huff and throw a tantrum when Dan and Louise made a joke at their expense.

“None of today is the impression I wanted to make on Louise,” Phil whined through his fingers, sounding positively morose. Both Dan and Louise giggled again, Louise humorously shaking her head.

“I reckon there’ll be other chances,” Dan offered, trying to sound reassuring despite his mirth.

“Ughhh,” Phil mumbled unintelligently.

Dan smiled fondly at Phil, just barely resisting the temptation to pry his hands from his face and kiss his rosy cheeks.

Slowly, their laughter dwindled and Phil’s ears faded to their normal pale color. Louise cleared her throat, drawing Dan’s attention away from Phil. “As much as I have been wanting to get to know Phil,” Louise said with a pointed look, her voice switching into manager mode, “we have a lot to chat about, and some of these decisions need to be made fast.”

Both Dan and Phil straightened up at Louise’s sudden shift, putting a respectable distance between themselves.

“First things first,” Louise said, her gaze shifting back and forth from Dan to Phil. “Isabella responded. Sort of.”

“And?” Dan asked warily. Nervously, his hands tightly latched onto his legs, his fingertips harshly digging into his bare thighs. Dan was too amped up to notice the pain, but Phil must not have been. Gentle fingers wrapped around Dan’s hand, and pulled it down. Pliantly, Dan let Phil guide their hands to his lap, his fingers automatically seeking out the hem of his baggy jumper instead.

“She’s keeping her meeting with Tatler tomorrow,” Louise continued with a frown — a fact that didn’t escape Dan’s notice. With a deep sigh, Dan prepared himself for whatever news Louise had. “Judging by the fan’s tweet that she replied to, she’s going to talk about her version of finding out about your sexuality. So prepare yourself for that.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dan grumbled.

“Hang on, let me just show you,” Louise mumbled, tapping around on her phone before tossing it to Dan. It was opened to Isabella’s twitter, of course. Tilting the phone so Phil could see too, Dan apprehensively read the tweet.

@prettyfashionista: @IsabellaDeLaRenta Did you know that @danielhowell was bi when you were dating?”

@IsabellaDeLaRenta: @prettyfashionista You’ll have to read my interview with @Tatler tomorrow to hear all about it ;)

It wasn’t surprising that Isabella was determined to say something about Dan’s coming out, but his heart sunk all the same. “Great,” Dan mumbled with an eyeroll, throwing Louise’s phone back. Whatever that story was, it was bound to be a load of bullshit.

Louise caught her phone and continued without acknowledging Dan’s disgruntled comment. “I’ve spoken with Tatler’s legal team though, and they are aware that if they run any version of the stories Isabella described in that contract, then charges will be pressed.”

“Fucking fantastic,” Dan grumbled, still not pleased with the direction of the conversation so far. Pressing charges wouldn’t do any good; if the story got out, then the damage would be done. Besides, even if Tatler refrained from releasing any of the shit in the contract, there was still plenty of crap Isabella could spin to make Dan look like the villain.

“As you can imagine, both the media and your fans have lots of questions.” Louise seemed to click a few times on her screen before fully returning her attention to Dan. “Especially since Isabella is going to talk to Talter, and say god knows what, I think it’s important for you to properly talk about this somewhere.”

“Like an interview,” Dan deadpanned, even though he already knew the answer.

Louise nodded. “I’ve got several options lined up, just waiting to be confirmed. If you’re okay with it, then we can talk about what you’re willing to do and eliminate some of those options.”

Dan sighed and gave a firm nod, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. Interviews weren’t his favorite part of fame — especially when he didn’t have something concrete to promote as an easy conversation topic to fall back on. As much as Dan knew that an interview — or two or three — was the right thing to do, he also knew that there would be no easy questions or topics. Not even his album, which he’d made explicitly clear was at least partially about a boy, would be comfortable.

“Let’s hear the options, then.” Dan shifted forward, his elbows moving to rest on his knees, his hands steadfastly crossed in front of him.

“Okay, well the biggest decision is how you want to talk,” Louise explained without looking up from her computer. “There are some tv options, a few website ones, and,” her eyes flickered to Phil. “One radio option.”

Dan followed Louise’s gaze, sending a questioning look at Phil.

“Don’t ask me,” Phil defended lightly with a smile and a shrug. “I’ve been ignoring my bosses’ emails all day. But I did see a few from the BBC with your name in the subject line…”

“Well, given the decision to not confirm, um, us right now...” Dan’s gaze flickered between Phil and Louise, whose eyebrows raised in surprise at Dan’s admission. “I don’t think the radio show is the best idea. Plus,” Dan continued before Louise could push him to decide — he didn’t need the pressure, as soon as he’d heard the options, he’d known in his gut what he wanted, needed to do. “I want people to be able to see and hear me. So that leaves television,” he concluded, resolute and unwavering.

“Of course,” Phil agreed understandingly at the same time as Louise asked, “Why?”

Dan caught Phil’s eye. It didn’t surprise him that Phil — who was both in the public eye and queer — would understand why Dan was adamant to discuss this particular topic in a place where editors couldn’t easily chop up his words. And Louise, who was straight and sheltered from the scrutiny of the media, wouldn’t.

Turning his gaze back to Louise, Dan explained, “If I’m going to do this, if I’m going to talk about my sexuality, then I want people to hear this from me.” Dan drummed his fingers on his closed fist, automatically letting out a sigh when Phil’s hand landed on his lower back and began tracing soothing circles just above his pants. “I just — I don’t want websites or magazines or whoever to have the chance to twist my words, and most radio doesn’t have enough coverage for my entire audience to hear it. I want people to hear every word I have to say. It’s too important.”

Louise nodded with a note of finality, her hands clicking around on the computer some more. “Okay, that leaves… three television options. And then that narrows it down to the question of when.”

“The sooner the better,” Dan answered confidently — much more confidently than he’d realized he felt. Now that he’d actually come out, deciding to talk about it felt a million times easier than he ever would have anticipated. “Whatever the fuck Isabella is going to tell Tatler tomorrow, I want to be able to respond as soon as possible.”

Louise clicked silently a few more times before finally looking up. “Alright, what are your thoughts on… The Tonight Show?”

“Brilliant,” Dan agreed with a sigh of relief. He’d been on The Tonight Show a few times since he’d released his first album, and each time it had been a wonderful experience. “Jimmy’s great, he’ll be well understanding and supportive. When?”

“Tomorrow night?” Louise answered with a slight grimace, her voice raising up tentatively.

“Holy shit,” Dan murmured. Needing an outlet for his stress, Dan ran an agitated hand through his hair, tugging on his curls. “The Tonight Show’s in America, Lou! That means I’d have to leave…” Dan trailed off, shaking his head. When he’d said soon, he hadn’t anticipated now.

“On the redeye tonight,” Louise confirmed solemnly. “I’ve already got a ticket on hold, I had a feeling you’d pick this one.”

Dan sighed, resigned to his fate, and dropped his hand to his lap, his fingers tapping out a familiar beat on his knee. It was soon and rushed, but far better than any other option — he knew that without even hearing which other interviews Louise had to offer. “Make it two, I’m not going without you.”

Red lip drawn between her teeth, Louise shot Dan an uncertain half-smile. “It’s Darcy’s first ballet recital tomorrow and I’d be a horrid mum if I missed it…”

“Louise!” Dan balked, outraged at the mere idea of Louise sending him to do this alone. “You can’t expect me to go to New York alone right now!” Less than twelve hours ago, Louise had held Dan while he fell apart — she couldn’t seriously expect him to go halfway across the world by himself. Not to handle this of all topics, even with his surprising newfound confidence.

“Both Tom and Matt — my boyfriend and Darcy’s dad,” Louise clarified with a quick glance at Phil, “are out of town this weekend. If I don’t go, then Darcy will have no one at her first recital,” Louise pleaded, sounding guilty but like she was begging Dan to understand. It was clear that she felt truly horrid. Horrid enough that she might give in if Dan pushed a little bit more.

It wasn’t that Dan didn’t feel bad for Darcy, he just… well, when he pictured himself sitting alone in a hotel room in New York City before going on late night American television to talk about his shitty ex-relationship and his sexuality, he felt even worse for himself.

Before he could start to plead, though, Phil interrupted him.

“I could go,” Phil offered, sounding far too casual for the magnitude of what he was suggesting.

Dan and Louise simultaneously snapped to look at Phil. Dan’s jaw was sagging open as he tried to process Phil’s offer. Out of the corner of his eye, Dan could tell that Louise’s expression wasn’t tons more composed.

“To America,” Dan clarified stupidly. “With me. This weekend.”

“I don’t want you go alone, and if you think Jimmy Fallon is the right choice, then I’ll support you,” Phil agreed easily. His knee knocked against Dan’s purposefully.

“But you have a liveshow this weekend,” Dan replied, still sounding shocked and wildly unintelligent. His brain was having trouble processing Phil’s offer to give up his weekend to fly to a different continent to be Dan’s emotional support while he talked about his sexuality— especially since they’d just had a fight about the fact that Dan had come out without properly telling Phil.

“Liveshows,” Phil retorted with bit of laughter in his voice, “can be done from anywhere, including New York.”

“Oh,” Dan muttered as he finally let himself imagine what Phil, not Louise, coming with him could be like. Let himself imagine having Phil standing backstage as he talked to fucking Jimmy Fallon about being bisexual in front of a live audience. Let himself imagine him and Phil going out somewhere after filming was over, maybe a nice restaurant or bar. Let himself imagine actually getting a whole new kind of support from a relationship.

“You’d do that?” Dan breathed, still in awe. Butterflies were beating at Dan’s stomach, causing Dan to feel overwhelmed by everything he felt for Phil. These emotions were new, and he barely knew what to do with them, but he was so, so happy to finally feel the all-consuming warmth that people talked about.

“Of course,” Phil murmured back. His eyes were bright and full of just as much affection as he held Dan’s gaze. “Supportive and healthy relationship, right?”

“Right,” Dan agreed softly, a slow smile spreading across his face. He’d always thought artists who wrote love songs were exaggerating or selling out, but given the album he was working on, he’d have to reassess his opinion for fear of being a hypocrite. “You’re seriously amazing.”

“So are you,” Phil promised quietly, his thumb gently grazing the side of Dan’s thigh. In perfect sync, both boys leaned in, naturally tipping their lips towards each other.

“Sorry to interrupt lads,” Louise chimed in, yanking them out of their sweet moment. Dan snapped his head to face Louise, only to find her still fully in manager mode with her fingers poised on her keyboard. “The flight leaves in five hours, and if you’re serious, then you should be booked and packing right about now.”

Dan’s mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish, before he turned to face Phil again. Even without Dan voicing the question that was on the tip of his tongue, Phil gave a singular emphatic nod. That was all the confirmation Dan needed; breaking eye contact with Phil, Dan shifted his gaze back to Louise with a matching nod. “Book the tickets.”

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

When Dan made it to the airport three hours later, he was out of breath and tired. He hadn’t seen Phil since Louise had kicked him out to go pack as soon as the tickets were booked. Phil had left quickly with a chaste kiss and a promise to meet Dan at the airport; now that Dan was here, all he wanted was Phil to be next to him again.

Phil hadn’t been out the door for more than three minutes before Louise forced them to switch into planning mode — not hotels or any of the logistical pieces that Louise could handle while they were in the air, but the very detailed particulars of Dan’s late night appearance. As inauthentic as it felt to craft answers to a million possible questions that he might be asked, Dan knew he’d be grateful for this planning session tomorrow.

The conversation hadn’t been dropped when he’d started packing, either. Louise followed him into the bedroom, and began proposing thousands of possibilities of what Isabella might tell Tatler. Together, they worked through how he could respond to different false accusations and attacks, and decided which bits of his side of their relationship he was willing to share.

Realistically, Dan would only have a few hours between Isabella’s meeting at Tatler and filming his segment of The Tonight Show, so the more preparation he did today, the better. And the majority of those hours would likely be spent backstage, too close to prying ears to properly talk things through with Phil.

By the time Dan had crawled into an uber with his luggage, he had been too sick of talking to even carry on a conversation with the driver. Thankfully, Phil had sent a reassuring text to Dan that his uber was only a few minutes out, and that he’d meet Dan at the airport soon.

The wait for Phil was agonizing. At least three people were wearing the black Ugh beanies that Dan had sold on his last tour, and he was eternally grateful that he’d snagged a bench next to a large pole that he could hide behind. There was no doubt in Dan’s mind that him and Phil would not be able to make it all the way to New York without running into at least one of their respective fans — him and Phil both had massive fanbases, so it seemed inevitable that they’d run into fans at some point. Dan sincerely hoped that the universe could just hold off until Phil was here to help keep up the conversation, though.

From his seat just a few meters from the doors, Dan finally saw Phil tumble through the nearest entrance a few minutes after Dan had checked in, his suitcase precariously trailing behind him. A wave of relief rushed through Dan as the anxiety that was chewing at his edges dulled. Without hesitating, Dan hoisted his backpack on his shoulder and rushed towards Phil. For a moment, Dan didn’t care about any fans that might still be loitering nearby. He launched himself at Phil, arms wrapping around his neck, eager for a hug from his boyfriend after the stress of the last few hours.

“Ooof,” Phil grunted, although Dan could practically hear the smile in Phil’s voice. Clumsy arms circled around Dan’s waist, and Dan was distantly aware of the dull thud from Phil’s suitcase toppling over. Steadfastly ignoring it, Dan squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in Phil’s neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling Phil’s strawberry shampoo and spiced cologne — it was the most relaxed he’d felt since getting out of bed that afternoon.

“Hi babe,” Phil greeted after a moment, his hands loosening from their resting place. Immediately, Dan tensed up, and his hold around Phil’s neck tightened.

“Not yet,” he mumbled, his voice coming out far more desperate and needy than he’d intended for it to. Now that Phil was hugging him, Dan realized how much he had been craving this, how much he needed the warm comfort of Phil.

A soft chuckle tickled Dan’s ear, but Phil’s arms tightened around him again, and Dan relaxed back into Phil’s embrace. Dan knew they couldn’t stay like this long — they needed to get through security and, plus, at some point the risk of someone photographing them would become too high. But for just another moment, Dan let himself not care — not care about their tight itinerary, not care about fans, not care about anything but the warm comfort of Phil.

Phil hugged Dan close and tight, not letting go until Dan unwound himself from Phil’s neck and stepped back. Even then, Phil reached out for Dan, this time lightly stroking his thumb over Dan’s cheek. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, voice low and quiet.

“Definitely,” Dan nodded before turning his head and pressing a chaste kiss to the flat of Phil’s palm.

“Let’s go then,” Phil said encouragingly, bending down for his suitcase before leading Dan back over to his guitar.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed. His fingers brushed lightly against the back of Phil’s hand, his pinkie wrapping around Phil’s for the briefest of seconds. Someday, he’d hold Phil’s hand in airports — and restaurants and bars and fucking Tesco — but for now, Dan reached for the handle of his guitar case. “Let’s go.”

[thedistantstorm]

The Fledgling Diaries: A collection of stories about Marc, Devrim, and Suraya.

Marc and Devrim go away for the Dawning. Suraya bonds with her Nana.

Previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

Marc is halfway through placing the call to Dev's favorite restaurant when he realizes that there's going to be a problem.

Suraya. What are they going to do with Suraya?

He and Devrim almost always go away for the weekend. It's their tradition. They can't take a child on their romantic getaway. The whole idea is to get away from -

The sound of the refrigerator opening and closes scares him half to death. He jumps. A mop of frizzy dark hair pulls back, closing the door quietly. There's a juice box in her hand.

“Sorry,” She says, quietly. Her dark eyes look him over and rest on the floor. It’s an improvement, even if she doesn’t maintain eye contact. She wiggles her sock-clad toes against the tiled floor. “I was thirsty. Didn't mean to scare ya.”

Marc exhales all his frantic startled energy in one go. “You're fine, sweetheart,” He says, and immediately feels guilty when she gives him the tiniest peek of a smile and heads back to the short table in Devrim's office that's become her homework station.

He looks down at his handheld. Sighs. Dials a different number.

-/

“You know I'll be happy to take her so you two can get some time alone. For Light's sake, you boys deserve it.”

“She probably won't be, though. She doesn't do well-”

“Marcus. Relax.”

“But-”

“If she has a bad weekend, she has a bad weekend. You can't shelter her forever.”

“... I know.”

“Make your plans. I can handle a child. I did raise your husband, if you recall.”

“I just worry.”

The voice on the other end of the line softens. “I’m aware. Worry-warts, the both of you. Prepare, and she'll be just fine. I'll keep her busy.”

-/

She reacts like they expected when she's told of their arrangements. Withdrew immediately, never argued, and saw herself to her bedroom without supper, much like when Devrim informed her he'd be going away with the Militia. Devrim and Marc took turns checking on her - aware that despite her lack of response she laid awake - through the night. However, unlike before, they did not pull her from her bed and she did not make a sound.

The following morning, she dragged herself to the table for breakfast, all red-rimmed eyes and a sullen curl to her lip that had Devrim squeezing Marc’s thigh under the table. They had agreed that while she deserved some coddling, some things she needed space to figure out and overcome. This debacle was one of them, painful as it may be for them all.

She looks down into her eggs and sighs, forcing herself to eat slowly, despite her rumbling belly. She's always hungry, lately. Devrim waits until Marc’s back is turned to slip her some bacon off his plate. She looks at it, them him, and away. He pretends to be disinterested while she eats it, though it feels like a crime to ignore her bleary eyes and wobbling lip at the speck of special attention thrown her way.

She falls asleep on the couch half an hour later.

Marc scoffs when Devrim cradles her against his chest when she twitches and moans, but there’s nothing behind it; no way either of them would have ignored her. She’s just a babe. Realistic expectations include setbacks. He too relents, scooting close to them on the couch, the three of them cuddled together through mid afternoon.

It’s after a light dinner, when Suraya is more awake than she’s been all day that the she asks, “You’ll come back, right?” She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, rocking side to side nervously.

“Yes. We’ll be gone for two nights, my dear,” Devrim says. His eyes are gentle and kind and true. “Then straight back to you.”

“I'll miss you,” She blurts, then flushes hotly and scampers away.

Both fathers look at each other for confirmation before following after her. She cannot always run. They have to be better about being firm with her.

Their girl is sitting on the windowsill in her bedroom, looking out at the darkening sky. As always, she is silent, pensive. On her lap, clenched between an iron grip is Bird, the plush falcon. When they cross the threshold to her room she looks at them, then away.

Marc is the one who calls her over to them. Devrim backs him up. She listens.

It boils down to the same thing it always does.

“The people I love leave me. And they don't come back.”

“We will,” Both men promise her. “Trust us.”

“I want to,” She whispers back, kicking her feet as they dangle off the bed, one parent on either side of her. She squeezes their hands - she's got her fingers laced with one of each of theirs - and sniffles just once. “But I'm scared.”

“It's okay to be scared,” Marc tells her. “We'll show you there's nothing to be afraid of.”

She looks at him then, dark, patient eyes and a mouth curved in an understanding smile. Devrim shifts beside her, and she doesn't need to see him to know he's nodding his agreement. They draw her in for a hug that's more like being sandwiched between them.

After a few moments of that, she finds the courage to ask, “Who's gonna stay with me?”

Devrim smiles, and Marc practically beams at her. She likes that they know when she's trying. It's nice.

“We talked to your Nana,” Marc says. “Thought it would be best if you stayed with family.”

“She told us,” Devrim strokes the top of her head in a soothing gesture, “That she'd be happy to come here, or you could go to her. Whatever makes you more comfortable.”

Suraya bites her lip. “Can I think about it?”

-/

In the end, Suraya is dropped off at the Kay family's estate, a bag in tow, and Bird tucked securely under one arm. Devrim's mother holds him very carefully - as if he's a real bird - while she says her goodbyes.

The child holds it together until her fathers are out of sight, and then the tears overwhelm her. Nana simply tuts and plucks the girl up into her arms, shushing and rocking her until she cries it all out. She'd always hoped for a girl, and by sheer luck, this one was still teeny enough to hold in her arms.

-/

Devrim has his mother's eyes, Suraya thinks. That same freshwater blue that's bright and aware. Where their first few meetings were overwhelming, Nana reads her far better now. She is content to let Suraya help make dinner and cookies, and is not upset if she flinches or twitches away at a surprise bout of affection.

And her Nana is very affectionate. According to her, all nanas are supposed to be.

It's like Devrim, but times a million, she decides. The cuddles are pretty good, though. Nana reads to her with a pretty lilt to her voice, the two of them snuggled up on what is a very big bed in Suraya's appointed bedroom. When that doesn't make her sleepy, she talks quietly about Devrim when he was younger, the crackly aged quality to her voice making it easy for the girl to hear her grandmother's pride.

She refers to him as 'my darling boy’ or 'my dear Devrim.’ Suraya dozes off thinking about how Devrim refers to her the exact same way. It makes her feel warm inside.

Surprisingly enough, she sleeps through the night.

-/

On their Saturday together, Nana takes her to the market district and has her help select items for cooking dinner. The market itself is booming and loud, overly busy with shoppers looking for gifts for their chosen bonds.

Suraya grips her hand tightly, and is mindful to stay focused in the marketplace. Beside her, the matriarch is posed and cool, her bartering skills a cut above the rest. She is cold as ice and walks away from several vendors who dare to charge her too much.

“They try to take advantage of a kindly old woman, Suraya,” Nana imparts. “They take advantage of any weakness they see. Do not ever let them see you sweat in a negotiation. Always remember that you can be kind and firm, all at once.”

The girl watches carefully as a particularly smooth vendor attempts to swindle them, only to find himself losing out on profits. Cut throat, her Nana is. She sees through the man's misleading advertisements, knows the species of tomato he's selling is not the hybrid he claims it to be. Afterward, Nana winks as she hands her an orange that the vendor throws in for being kind enough not to turn him in for his transgression

“Your father or grandfather would have reported that man,” Nana says, when they take a seat on a bench. She smooths a fly-away strand of hair from Suraya's face.

“So why didn't you?” Suraya asks.

Nana laughs. “Darling, we're all trying to survive. If I shut him down, what about his family? His children? His wife was pregnant not long ago.”

“But-”

“What he did was not fair, my dear. He should be an honest man, but the Factions make it hard for independent vendors to compete. Never be afraid to fight for what is fair and right, Suraya. However, you musn't be blind to the reasons why your others do not. Good or bad.”

The girl nods, wringing her hands. “Good people do bad things, sometimes,” She says.

“Yes,” Nana agrees. “Sometimes, bad things must be done for the greater good.” She looks at her granddaughter carefully. Her azure gaze is kind and serious. “You understand, don't you?”

“I do,” Suraya agrees quietly. “Used'ta take food when I was hungry,” She admits, “Mama didn't remember to feed me much and I had no money.”

The Matriarch nods, casting her cold gaze away. Marc and Devrim called her late one evening, to discuss their child's… interesting past. The remnants of her concern must show on her face when she looks back, because Suraya pats the wrinkled hand gripping their shopping basket.

“Daddy was mad when I told him, too,” She says, her voice matter-of-fact though child-like in tone. “He thought I couldn't hear him, but he was really loud.”

“You understand,” She says carefully, “That your Daddy was not mad at you, yes?”

“He's mad at Mama,” Nana nods encouragingly, holding her dark gaze as she continues. “Like I used to be. ‘M not, anymore.”

“I'm not mad at her, either. I wish she had given you more,” She tells Suraya, “And that you didn't have hurt because of her.” The girl nods, seemingly wise beyond her years. “But, because of her, you are here now, where you need to be, a part of a family that loves you very much. For that, my dear, I am very, very glad.”

Suraya dips her head with a blush, but chirps bashfully, “Me too.”

-/

Devrim stops in his tracks, halfway up the steps leading to his childhood home. They are back early, intending to purposely assuage their child's fears through demonstration. Beside him, his husband licks his lips. Both inhale the strong, nostalgic smell of Devrim’s mother’s famed sauce, of garlic and fresh basil and stewing tomatoes.

“She hasn't made sauce in years,” Marc marvels. “Probably not since right after we married. She'd said she’s too old.” He pauses. “You think Suraya conned her into it?”

“Our daughter? Doubtful. I'm sure she planned it all along. Mother’s protested for years that we’ve had no child for her to dote upon.”

“Yes, but you've seen our child pout. It's just like you.”

Devrim casts a scathing glance his husband's way. “I most certainly do not pout, Marcus.”

Marc rolls his eyes, “Strange, she said something similar last time I found her pouting. As for you,” He laughs, “You most certainly do.” He nudges Dev with an elbow before reaching for the door. “And don’t Marcus me, you’re doing it right now.”

Suraya has a splotch of sauce on her forehead, and is giggling as her Nana hums some long-lost song from Devrim’s childhood that plays from a radio nearby. She’s too focused on her task - they’re making bread to go with their supper - to turn to them when they come in the door. Devrim’s mother winks at Marc as the two watch him evaluate Suraya’s progress with kneading the stubborn loaf.

“Told you she’d be fine,” The Kay matriarch says. “I kept her busy. She should sleep well for you tonight.”

“And you?”

Her eyes crinkle around the edges as Suraya shows off what she’s learned to her other parent. “A little exhaustion is a small price to pay for such a wonderful gift.”

Marc puts an arm around her. “Thank you,” He says. “And you were right.”

She laughs. “Of course I am.” Across the room, Devrim dots Suraya’s nose in excess flour from the board she’s using to knead the dough. She squeals, and leaves a small handprint on the side of his face. The two sigh, though they can’t help but chuckle at the duo’s antics. She whispers to her son-in-law, “It’s been a long time since my house has felt so full.”

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages Drabbles: Twelve

The One With the Feelings

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Drabbles following Delicate Stages. Looking into the life of Bucky and Ana.

Warnings: Language. Sadness (because someone misses people) fluff.

Words: 2.3k

A/N: These drabbles are starting to go somewhere now, catching up with the timeline….I’m posting drabbles for Delicate Stages here! (Do not read unless you’ve read Delicate Stages first)

The past several months has been a mixture of calm, lazy days, and frantic, sad ones. The frantic one comes with Ana nearly pulling her hair out because wedding planning is a dumb feat. Why can’t see just have a simple one, a small one with just a handful of important people in their lives as they exchange vows.

“We really appreciate it, Tony, honestly,” Ana sighs on day while on the phone. “But we don’t need a venue that…extravagant. We just want to it keep it rather simple.”

Tony finally relents but insists that he pay for the entire wedding. Ana playfully argues with him, having come to an agreement that she at least pay for the deposit on a place. However, their conversation sends Ana into an emotion filled fit at one point, because a glaring fact just hit her in the face.

The lights in their apartment begin to flicker, and things begin to shake, trembling along with Ana’s own hands. She doesn’t try to rein it in, but she ends up grabbing the box the energy rings are in and quickly shoves them on. She twists them, and immediately, the lights steady.

She ends up taking a walk, coming to a stop by the lake. She finds rocks and begins chucking them are far and as hard as hard as she can. They land in the water with a satisfying splash, and she makes a game out of it; how far can she out throw the others.

Ana doesn’t know how long she stands there, tossing rocks as her heart clenches with stinging, longing sadness. It’s not like she completely forgot about it, the thought being a forefront in her mind since Bucky asked her to marry him. But now, now she has to acknowledge it aloud.

“I knew we should’ve set up a punching bag in the living room,” Bucky’s voice comes from behind her, carrying in the wind.

Ana drops the rock in her hand. She can feel him coming closer, as if he’s reaching out his hand to comfort her.

“Don’t,” She warns, “I have the rings on.”

When Bucky is next to her, he picks up the rock she dropped. He pulls his arm back, then throws it as hard as he can. It takes a while for them to hear a faint splash. Ana glares out over the lake. Damn super strength.

“Annie,” He whispers. A gentle sound that reassures her that she isn’t alone.

She twists the rings off. “It’s not that I forgot or anything,” She begins, gasping in a breath. “But all this planning, all this happiness, it just makes the fact glaringly obvious.”

Bucky brushes her hair off her shoulder, tenderly swiping his thumb across her collarbone. It breaks her. She nearly collapses against his chest, pressing her face in his shirt, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. She cries. She sobs as he holds her just as tight.

“I just wish,” She heaves, “I- I wish they were here, Bucky. All of them. I-I…who…I can’t-“

Soothing coos sounds from above her, Bucky trying his best to calm her breathing. She feels him press his lips to the top of her head, and she tries to listen to the musical beating of his heart.

“I’m suppose to plan this with my mother. I’m supposed to be excited with my brother, ask him to be a man of honor. I-I’m supposed to have my father walk me down the aisle. But-…but…”

Her body shakes with more sobs. “I can’t-can’t share any-any of it w-with them.” Abruptly she pulls away, hastily wiping her tears away. Bucky looks baffled for a moment, before his eyes soften.

“Ana-“

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I, sorry. This is happy, I should be happy and excited, and I am because I get to marry you. Fuck, babe, I’m sorry about this, I-“

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky cups the sides of her jaws. “Don’t do that, don’t hide your sadness behind that wall. It’s okay, baby. You don’t need to apologize for anything. Just cry it out, be sad, it’s alright to miss them like this.”

Ana falls against his chest once more. She allows herself to cry, to release all the emotions of missing her family for this important even in her life to come out. Bucky stands here with her for god knows how long, rubbing his fingers up and down her spine. Softly humming familiar tunes under his breath and dropping random kisses along her head.

Later, once they’re back in their apartment, cuddling up on the couch with her head in Bucky’s lap, she lets his own feelings wash over her. Bucky is remitting comfort, love, support. His calm relaxed breathing lulls her into a daze, so she pulls his left hand from her hair and kisses each knuckle. She feels a little better now, being able to release everything.

“They would love you,” She tells him quietly, shifting so she’s looking up at him.

Bucky pulls his gaze away from the TV, smiling softly down at her. “As I would love them, too.”

“Bucky,” Ana breathes out, now kissing his palm. “I’m going to ask Tony if he would walk me down the aisle.”

“I think he’d take that as the highest, honor, Darling.”

They fall silent for a while. Ana ends up laughing eventually as they watch a program. Almost two hours pass before someone speaks again, and when they do, it’s with a nervous touch.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something, Ana,” Bucky starts, shifting so Ana can sit up. “Do you…would you want to keep your last name? I will accept yours like your father did with your mother.”

If Ana wasn’t already engaged, she’d asked Bucky to marry her. She places her hand over her heart, simply because she’s so incredibly touched and a whole different wave of emotions curls through her.

“I love you.” She states simply, leaning to press a kiss to his cheek. “I really am so touched you would even ask that, Bucky. You’re wonderful. But, I’m really looking forward to taking your own name, if that’s alright. We can start our own family.”

Bucky’s breath hitches. “Our own family, as in…with me?”

“Nah, I was thinking of finding M’Baku and-“ Ana breaks out, laughing brightly. “Of course, with you, silly! We can talk about that later, although the way you’re turning white tells me diff-“

“No! No!” He says frantically, grabbing her face and kisses her sloppily. “Yes, I mean. We can start our own family.”

Ana scrunches her nose and tugs his hair as she wipes off the wet kiss from the corner of her mouth. “Besides,” She continues, going back to the name change. “I think Annie Barnes has a nice ring to it.”

When Bucky pulls her in again, it’s softer, gentler. “If we didn’t agree to that whole abstinence thing for the wedding, I’d start making a family right now.”

“That’s a stupid arrangement, let’s go!”

Ana straddles him on the couch as he laughs brightly into her mouth.

***

The whole ‘no sex before a wedding’ agreement took affect the month before. Considering they wanted it to be more special the night of, however Bucky thought it was going to be much more difficult than it is. Some days it was, others it wasn’t. Like the four days when Ana was sick with a nasty cold, and it was filled with Bucky making her soup and bringing her back medicine from the Healers and wrapping her up in fuzzy blankets.

It was hard when Ana found that black dress Bucky had mentioned that got him hot and bothered. She put it on, like the little minx she is, claiming she would wear it for the rehearsal dinner. He almost broke, but then Ana’s phone rang, and she chatted on the phone with Wanda for two hours.

Then they flew to New York, checking out a venue that Ana insisted they have. It’s the same place her parents got married, and Pepper was able to pull some strings, setting the date for their wedding along with it. Ana didn’t full on cry later that night, but she did shed some tears and all she wanted to do was snuggle up next to him.

The plans were falling together, and Bucky was becoming more nervous with each passing day. He was going to marry the love of his life, his girl he had given his heart too. On some nights, he would sneak away from her, leave her a note, and meet Steve outside of Tony’s place they were staying in.

He thought it strange they weren’t staying in the compound like last time, until Steve told him why. So, maybe that’s why Bucky is feel extra frustrated at this very moment, just days before their wedding. Steve had convinced him to go over to Sam’s new apartment in the city, so they could talk about it.

Bucky forces a slow, but hard breath through his nose, trying not to knock his fist up side anyone’s head. He keeps his arms crossed tightly across his chest, closing his eyes to block out the tense faces around him. He thinks, considers, the options they have in front of them, then quickly comes up with a solution. One he does not like.

“So,” He speaks up, breaking the long silence, heavy with tension. “Ana has absolutely no idea this has been going on? For the past three months. She has no idea that you’re all at each other’s throats because no one can agree on those goddamn Accords. Ana has no inkling of the Avengers, the people she considers family, are falling apart, and if said Avenger members refuse to sign, they will be considered criminals? Is that correct?”

Christ, he thought when they all fought before in Germany nearly two years ago that that was a shit show. Somehow this feels worse. Somehow, this is worse.

“We get it, Barnes,” Natasha snips from her place on the couch, but there’s a teasing twitch to her mouth. “We haven’t told her, when we should have.”

“Which is why,” Tony cuts in sharply, “we are considering telling her now.”

Bucky drops his arms in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose. “You want to tell her two days before our wedding?”

Sam snorts as a collective response. He gets it.

“What other choice do we have?” Steve questions, sounding defeated. Regretful.

Bucky eyes his friend. There’s a subtle twitch of his jaw, grinding his teeth. It’s always been a sign of Steve’s anger being held at bay. His eyes are hard, determined not to back down from his decision, from what he thinks is the right thing.

“You don’t tell Ana.” Bucky states firmly. “That’s what you’re all going to do, because none of you will add any stress to her. She’s happy, she’s excited, she’s…well. She has been extremely calm about the wedding for the past two weeks. You will not inform her of any of this, the Accords, the dumbass riff between you all, because then that’s all she will focus on.”

He shakes his head in frustration, wishing they hadn’t told him either. “She’ll want to fix everything, and as much as it sucks to hear, that is not her burden.”

“We know, Buck,” Steve assures quietly.

“Then we just don’t tell her at all?” Clint asks, his elbow resting on Natasha’s shoulders. “That doesn’t seem like a wise choice either.”

“Oh, you’ll tell her, because the longer she doesn’t know, the angrier she’ll be,” Bucky counters. “But after the wedding.” He pauses, considering something. He smirks. “Well, maybe an extra day after.”

Tony visibly blanches, rolling his eyes. “Great plan, genius. Good thing Ana won’t be able to feel the tension here. She’ll know something is up instantly.”

Shrugging, Bucky says, “Then rein it in. Can’t you all just ignore this shit for the sake of, not even for me, but for Ana? She just wants to be happy and celebrate with the people she loves. We both do. There’s going to be some repercussions of hiding it, but I’m asking you all as a favor. Please.”

Wanda, who has been standing quietly by the large window of the living room, finally speaks up. “Of course, Bucky. We just want to see you both happy. You both deserve it.”

The softness of her tone makes him walk over to her. While he was living in the compound with them during the Sessions, he had grown quiet a soft spot for the young woman. He wraps his left arm around her shoulders in a tight side hug.

“Thank you,” He expresses softly. He lifts his eyes to the rest of his friends. “I know it isn’t the greatest idea, but I really appreciate it.”

The halfhearted smiles he gets is enough for him. He nods once, then abruptly changes the subject. Bucky steps away from Wanda but grips her elbow and drags her over to Natasha.

“Now, Ana woke up an hour ago. She demanded that if I was going to have a bachelor night, which was not the case,” He gives a hard look to Steve who just shrugs. “She demanded both of you ladies to meet with her and Pepper at their house,” He tells them, now leading them towards another door. “Something about champagne and orange juice?”

“Mimosa’s, at this hour?” Natasha questions curiously. “It’s eleven at night.”

“Don’t question my bride, Natalia,” He responds flatly. He earns a sharp jab of his elbow in his ribs at her birth name.

“Just because you fully remember training me doesn’t mean you can call me by that name, Barnes.”

Wanda giggles next to them.

Bucky just rolls his eyes, fighting back a smug smile. He watches them go, chatting about picking up Sharon as well. Once they shut the door behind them, he turns back around and sighs, leaning against the door. It’s quiet, the room filled with tension for several moments. Then Tony breaks it.

“Well, if she thinks you’re having a bachelor night. Then lets make it happen!”

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

Drabbles Eleven   Drabbles Thirteen

Tags: @kat-lives @justreadingfics @watchoutforfrostbite @stressedasalways

[paladinsheadcanons]

How would the champs cuddle with their s/o (if they do at all)? Whether it's in bed or just relaxing together on the couch or something.

i kinda just decided to sorta discuss what the champions’ idea of a good time with their s/o is, because many people have different ways of showing affection (something like that). it’s not exactly entirely cuddling, since i feel some may not like physical affection, but i hope it works!

- mod ash

ash: Either lazily and casually snuggle close against you, or up and about doing your chores for you. Talking about feelings is weird to her, so her default conversation starter is work or common interests. Once she falls asleep, her hug is a (very warm and soft) death grip. You won’t escape it any soon. 

barik: He doesn’t mind working on his stuff by the couch so he’s near you. It’s just sad he can’t put down work to dote on you, but he hopes the closeness and letting you lean on him is good enough for now. He kinda likes it when you watch him work. 

fernando: Will make a big deal about who’s big spoon or little spoon. Allots time to make sure you’re comfortable, insisting certain things will be healthier for you, and also try to sneak in any form of affection he can. His hug feels like he should get paid for it. 

makoa: Will always enjoy a good cup of tea with you with a nice conversation. He is a bit weirded out with physical touch, so he chooses not to. A hug to satisfy you is good enough for him, however. Walks are a good option for him. 

inara: Will sing you to sleep, even if you tell her it’s not needed. She laughs, then tells you stories. She’s more interested with yours, however, and she looks forward to it every night, and is a good listener. She sometimes tries to make you things or cook you food, even if she herself doesn’t need it. 

khan: On more private moments, is a little awkward with cuddling, always making sure he’s doing it right and consulting with what makes you more comfortable. Also, he likes playfighting, and pillow fights are always bound to happen. When both of you have slept, it’s when both of you are too tired from laughing too much. 

ruckus: He talks, a whole lot. That’s his idea of a good time. He speaks so much it’s a little difficult to keep up, but it’s his way of managing his emotions, so you listen. He also listens to you speak about your day or your problems if he’s gotten everything out. He’s not too physically affectionate, and may settle for hand-holding if ever. 

torvald: Often too busy with research, and is hard to pry away from it.  Once he puts it down he likes having deep philosophical talk with you, and thinks that’s a good sign you two are in good terms. 

terminus: He doesn’t sleep, nor cuddle, and often cannot even relax. But he will try for you. He likes long walks, and resting by nature talking in detail about flowers and the animals he has seen (and remembers). It eases his mind off things, and he doesn’t really know why. 

cassie: Filled with energy and restless, and often likes taking you by surprise by initiating tickle or pillow fights, often just to get you two tired enough to doze off. She likes making small contests like “who can make the best animal noises” or “who can run to the counter the fastest” and is very competitive with these. 

bomb king: He doesn’t feel anything. Initiating contact feels like hugging a refrigerator. He tries to understand, and will just talk if the contact doesn’t satisfy you. Tries his damn best to listen to you. 

lian: Will ask you how your day has been, if you’ve had fun, if you’re alright. If you’re upset she will make effort to get it out of your system and is willing to do your chores and take your responsibilities for you if it makes you feel better. Watching her do things from your couch is a common occurrence.

kinessa: Will let you snuggle against her lap to sleep, while she does something else. She’ll make a drink when too much time passes without sleep. You’re going to fall asleep before her, but she doesn’t mind making you comfy. 

drogoz: Physical affection feels strange to him, so often he’s not up for physical contact. When resting, he does show affection by cuddling, but it’s more for his partner than him. 

sha lin: He will almost treat you like royalty, like he is there just to serve you. Will act innocent/aloof when you point it out, and will keep doing it even if you tell him to stop because he thinks he knows what’s best for you. He likes hugging you, probably a little too much. 

tyra: Very cuddly and will make sure you’re warm and comfy at all times. Skin contact – hugging you, holding your hands, or carrying – are things she really likes, and she likes the thought of making you food so she likes talking about food she’s had or wants you to taste. 

viktor: Very silent. Almost kind of awkward. Will not touch you or snuggle up against you until you say you want to, even if he wants contact. You should always initiate the cuddling first. He will like anything you initiate. 

vivian: Will almost willfully ignore you for work. Is not really physically affectionate. You have to strike up the right time and mood for her to reciprocate a hug. But she will, once you make her drop work. She likes holding hands in public, though. 

willo: Is a very sarcastic fellow, and often would not speak with you seriously about feelings, and would rather just talk to you about things that interest you both. Is often too engrossed with things she likes doing in her spare time to notice small things. 

strix: Things are silent with him. He will nod, murmur, or shift to answer to your silent pleas of contact. He hopes you understand he is sometimes too tired to think of anything once his head hits the pillow, but in sleep he is very cuddly. 

dredge: Loves public affection. Holding hands in public, kisses, that kinda stuff. When resting, he is cuddly as hell, though the only con is that he talks a lot and may unconsciously talk over you. Likes physical gifts more than anything, and is strangely very sentimental with anything you give him, from gifts to tiny notes you write. 

furia: Will act like a doting mother tucking you to bed when coaxing you to rest, cuddling with you warmly. She likes watching you sleep. She hopes you don’t find it creepy. She likes waking up early to see you wake up. 

seris: She’s distant. She doesn’t like cuddling. She likes it when you’re laid out on her lap, though. She will not sleep, but she enjoys watching you sleep, and wake up, and everything else in between. She just likes the time between.

grohk: He likes making jokes with you. Pranks and puns are a favorite, and he would often rant about his day and listen to you complain about your day. 

jenos: He doesn’t need sleep, but is very willing to at least have you sleep against his lap to help you sleep. He says things on what the stars have written for both of you the next day, and often comes to you with small trinkets. 

ying: She makes you both a drink, and talk about the events of both of your days. She likes establishing skin contact, like holding your hand, or caressing your arm, at almost everytime she’s with you. 

mal'damba: At first, he’s not really a cuddler, but over time as he grows more comfortable, he becomes very clingy, and big-spoons you no matter how big you are compared to him. He likes stroking your hair and whispering cute stuff before you guys fall asleep. 

pip: Not the most physically affectionate, but he likes giving hugs when he can! He’s a good listener, even though he gives off the vibe that he’s always too busy. Hugs you when you need it, even though he’s small and it probably won’t matter. 

grover: … He’s a tree. He likes long walks and watching the sun set before he hibernates, though. He likes staring at views for extended periods of time, and enjoys long contemplative silence. Walking with him may be annoying if you’re not patient because he can/will stare at something for longer than 20 minutes.

androxus: Very distant. Sometimes will complain that he’s too tired to cuddle when you try to initiate physical contact, but will often relent anyway. On off-times he likes talking about work, money, or serious stuff, and rarely talks about personal feelings. 

buck: Loves deep conversation, and preparing food for you! He’s the kind that would wake up early morning and have a really elaborate routine, and encourages you to stay healthy (which is easy to do considering he likes preparing food and other things for you). Long hugs really warm him up. 

evie: She’s all about self-care, so her idea of a good night is a good long bath, face mask and all ten steps of skincare with you, while both of you are on the couch watching a movie or reading something. When speaking or cuddling she’s very vocal and makes for a very loud but passionate conversation partner.

koga: Too up and about to cuddle or do soft stuff. Likes walking around the room and letting his thoughts out by talking, sometimes exercising and jogging to get his mind running, and would very much appreciate it if you walk/jog with him. He’s often quiet on walks but will get talkative when tired enough. 

moji: Also not that physically affectionate. She has so much pent-up energy though, and likes it when you join her in events and dates and her constant exploring. She’s very observant, and likes it when you notice little changes, and does pretty good noticing small things with you as well. 

maeve: Will curl up against you, wanting you to spoon her as she lies down and does things like count money or inspect/clean the things she’s stolen. She likes showing them off, so oftentimes you either do small talk or admire the trinkets she’s stolen, giving them names and talking about cleaning. She likes it when you scratch or pat her hair.

lex: While not entirely game about physical affection, he will listen to you, having a different way of showing his affection. He likes holding your hand in every single opportunity, even if it is somewhat inconvenient. On more private times, he likes 

skye: She likes verbal banter, so when she’s restless she will strike up conversation randomly, and that comforts her a lot even though she doesn’t know the topic. Long relaxing baths are very pleasant to her, although she falls asleep way too easily in them. 

talus: Of course this isn’t with an S/O, but having him sleep is a nightmare. He has so many things to talk about, and most of the stories have nothing to do with each other, and his energy is boundless and everywhere. He’ll sleep once you’ve given up. 

zhin: You almost have to force him to lie down with you. It’s not like he will entirely hate it. He is very restless and will usually not stay put. However, he likes it when you fall asleep before him. 

[the-freckle-game-is-strong-blog]

Letting Off Steam (Creepypasta)

(Ahh, I’m so happy I rewrote this story, it’s like puberty hit it or something. It is vastly better… Downside, finding a writhing format that looks nice either tumblr’s allergic to indents layout is hard)

Delilah Van Grahams was a worrisome woman. Rightly so, many would agree. Her eyes carried more bags than an airport, luggage from her long nights without rest. Every night she had the same routine. First she would tell Riley it was getting late. Despite being sixteen she still needed some coaxing to see herself to Bedfordshire. Then she would come downstairs and stick the kettle on before plonking herself down beside the phone. Sometimes the television would be on, the volume stuck on a dismal five as if anything louder would make her miss a phone call but usually it was not on at all.

She tried not to stress. It was not good for the baby, or so she had been told. Her fingers drummed idly on her four month bump. There was quite an age gap between Delilah’s two children. One sixteen years, one merely sixteen weeks. She had, admittedly, had Riley quite young. Not a teen mother or anything of the sort, mid twenties but youthful enough that she could still now bare more children. Both by the same man, Rylan Blackwood.

Rylan was not the stereotypical idea of the perfect partner. They had never been wed, citing that it was unimportant but finance also being an issue because of reason two. Rylan was unemployed. He had worked dozens of jobs over the last eighteen years of their romance but fate had been cruel and he had never been able to keep a job longer than a few months. Mostly because of his last habit; vanishing.

Rylan had, for as long as Delilah had known him, disappeared. He did this every so often. One day, without warning, he would just take off. He could be gone for less than a day or even months. She would hear little to nothing of him, sparse text messages and occasional letters- If she was lucky. Then when he returned, he could never explain himself. He claimed to genuinely remember nothing. Doctors had suggested some form of selective amnesia but had never been able to provide more than theories.

This was one such instance. Rylan had been gone for weeks now. As usual Delilah had reported his absence to the authorises. As usual, they had not rung her back with the victorious finding of her partner. No. The first few times they had sent out search parties but by now, they had come to the conclusion he would find his way home on his own and that, in fact, this was a cruel trick. He was actually seeing some other woman and this was an elaborate coverup. Delilah scoffed. She knew Rylan better.

While the idea that this had happened countless times before and he had always come home safe reassure her somewhat, it did not totally ease her. No. She continued to wait, anxiously hovering by the phone in case of a call. News of the man she regarded as the love of her life.

“ Mum? ” Riley’s drowsy voice caused Delilah to jump, having not expected her daughter awake. In her paranoid focus on the phone, she had failed to see her entering. She smiled softly at her. The apple of her eye. Dressed in a fluffy pyjama set with just one slipper.

Riley reminded Delilah very much of her father. Her hair for example. At the roots and tips of Riley’s hair where the infrequently and self applied blue hair dye was weakest her natural hair colour was revealed. Ginger, a true redhead, like her dad. She had his freckles as well. Dotted all over her face, torso, arms and legs. Like thousands of tiny blotches of colour splattered from a paintbrush.

That being said, a lot about Riley was clearly inherited from her mother. She shared her skin tone with her mother rather than father. While Rylan was quite pale, Delilah was truly albino and had passed that on to Riley. Her skin was more than milky, like untrodden snow. There was also the matter of her eyes, another of her maternally inherited traits. They were glassy like a low quality gem one might find in cheap jewellery. The lilac tinge to them was soft and only visible in certain lighting. They were odd, yes, but not unheard of for those who suffered albinism.

“ Riley, what are you doing? It’s two in the morning, ” Delilah asked, getting up from her seat with an awkward rock before throwing her weight up. Getting around with a baby bump made even such mundane tasks a nightmare. Wordlessly Riley crossed the cold living room floor, her one slipper squeaking slightly. Lifting up a blanket she had carried from upstairs, she draped it sweetly over her mother’s shoulders.

“ Go to bed, mum, ” Riley insisted after a moment, her voice laced with her Scottish accent, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. Delilah sighed before smiling at her.

“ Sweetie, I can’t, I need to watch the ph- ”

“ Why? Does it do tricks? ” The teenager sassed, quirking a brow. “ Go to bed. There won’t be any phone calls tonight, or any other night. You know that. Dad will come home whenever it suits him.

” I- “ Delilah opened her mouth to protest before swiftly realising that actually Riley was right. She had been doing this for years and there never was anything. The fleeting rings she did get fell into the daylight hours. ” … Alright… “ She agreed, some sense having seemingly been talked into her by her daughter. Riley flashed a toothy grin, showing off the gap between her front two incisors, at the sight of her mother relenting and shuffling back to bed.

-

” Where have you been? “ Riley’s voice was bitter, laced with venom as she looked over across the dining table, spitefully digging her fork into her chicken nuggets. Delilah turned to see Rylan looking over at them from the doorway, lingering there. His clothing was a mess. Holes and patchwork littering them. He was unshaven, unlike his typical baby face. The bandaging around his arm suggested it had been injured. Not as bad as a break but worse than bruising. A sprain, perhaps?

"Rylan, ” Delilah got to her feet, dropping the plastic baby spoon she’d been using to feed Blossom- The newest addition of the Blackwood family. She gurgled and laughed as she threw her pot of baby mush onto the floor.

“ Dee, ” Rylan responded fondly, rushing forth to pull her into a hug. Delilah felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. When he hadn’t turned up for Blossom’s birth, she had been broken. Surely, sick or not, he understood how important it was? He had been there when Riley was born. Late, yes, he had turned up late and Delilah had already been in full blown labour by the time he turned up to the hospital. He had looked like someone with a vague idea of what Rylan should look like, but had never actually seen him had tried to recreate him from scrap materials. Yet for all he had looked homeless and messy he had been there. This time he had not.

“ Uh, hello? I asked you a question, ” Riley cleared her throat, shoving aside her plate and getting to her feet. Riley was tall, especially for her age, standing at 5'9 which easily dwarfed Delilah but still she fell short of her father’s 6'2.

“ Hey, ginger snap, I missed you… You’ve dyed your hair, ” Rylan comments, walking over to his elder daughter, lifting a hand to take a lock of her choppy hair in his fingers. Riley pulled away briskly.

“ Don’t touch me. Do you have any idea of what you’ve put mum through? Where the fuck have you been? ” Riley demands, her glassy eyes glaring holes in her father.

“ Riley! Language! ” Delilah scolded. Truth be told, she didn’t actually mind Riley swearing. She was an adult, near enough. Who was she to dictate what she could or couldn’t say? But this was her father!

“ No, no… She’s right, let her shout, ” Rylan relents, waving off Delilah’s protests.

“ Damn right I’ll shout! You asshole! Not only did you miss my birthday for the eighth year in a row but you weren’t here. You weren’t here for Blossom! What if something had went wrong? Touch wood, what if? ” Riley snarled, pointing a finger at him accusingly. This seemed to strike a nerve with Rylan.

“ Don’t you go there young lady, you know fine well I can’t co- ”

“ ‘Can’t control it, I’m ill, boo-hoo. Feel sorry for me’ is that what you were going to say? ” She asked, her face scrunched up unattractively, conveying the full extent of her disgust.

“ Oh, you ungrateful bitch! One day you’ll understand and then you’ll… You’ll…. ” Rylan trailed off, pacing, silently fuming.

“ Both of you, stop it! ” Delilah snapped as she rushed over to comfort Blossom who had started to wail.

“ Me? Ungrateful? You’re the one who can’t even get over this stupid amnesia, teenage runaway bullshit for the sake of your family! You’re the ungrateful one! I’ve been here, looking after mum and Blossom. Where the fuck have you been? ” At this point the argument had transitioned to a screaming match. Riley’s voice was even scratchier than usual- She’d suffered from infant coeliac as a baby and it had scarred her for the rest of her days with a particularly shaky voice.

“ I said both of you, sto- ”

Thwack!

Before Delilah could get any further, she let out a gasp. Rylan growled, rolling his shoulders tensely, his fist now balled to his side. Slightly red but not as red as Riley’s left cheek which he’d just smacked. A bright handprint blistered on her skin. Tears began to stream down her face. Delilah was shocked, her stomach churred. Rylan had never lifted a hand to any of them.

“ …I think you should leave, ” Delilah spoke, her voice hoarse, hardly believing she was sending him away just after he’d turned up. Rylan turned to her, blood boiling.

“ Fine! Whatever! I wouldn’t expect you to understand either, ” He snarled, making Delilah jump. Sure they’d argued before, of course but never had he sounded so… Sincerely hateful. Stomping off, the front door slammed behind him. His figure was visible out the window as he stalked off into her street before taking off at full sprint while Delilah cuddled a sobbing Riley while cradling Blossom on her hip.

She loved Rylan but enough was enough.

-

“ Riley, I know you’re going to your dress up party thing- ” Delilah was cut off before she could get any further.

“ Oh my god, ” Riley exclaimed. “ It’s not 'dress up party thing’, mum, it’s a steampunk convention, ” She corrects, as she adjusts the bow tie around her neck before moving to fiddle with the strap of her goggles.

“ Ah, right, ” Delilah responded, trying to understand. Admittedly, she did not but it made Riley happy and she had not seemed to smile in so long. Things had be rough for the family recently. Riley had been such a great help with Blossom, she was a gem of a girl, so if dressing up a little weirdly not and again pleaded her? Delilah would not stop her. “ But I need to pop to the shops and Blossom’s asleep. Do you mind watching her? ” She inquired.

“ Sure, I guess, but don’t take ages, ” Riley agreed, moving over to look at herself in the hallway mirror, sticking out her tongue thoughtfully before setting her index finger and thumb using her lips before using her spit to flatten down an unruly strand of her hair. Which almost instantly popped back up.

“ Alright, I won’t, ” Delilah agreed, however inevitably time would get away from her.

Upon returning home an hour later, Delilah instantly knew something was wrong. She was not sure what as of yet but it hit her like a truck. Some primal sense that there was something amiss in the home. It sent shivers down her spine, the hairs on her neck standing on end. Yes, she was sure of it, something was very definitely wrong.

Dropping her shopping bags in the hallway, she took a few steps deeper into the house and began to fully understand what the matter was. A nauseous scent clung to the air. Coppery and metallic in nature. It was weak but still made Delilah want to be sick.

“ Riley? ” She called out into the house, her voice echoing. No answer. While the three bedroom semi detached house had felt snug and even claustrophobic in the past it was now a vast mansion and she was calling uselessly into the west wing. That was unlike her daughter. She never ignored her. She clicked her tongue. Was she angry because of how long she had taken at the shop? Delilah wondered, before returning to the previously abandoned shopping bags to lug them into the kitchen

Upon reaching the kitchen, she dropped the bags again. They clunked heavier this time. A white pool began to form around the plastic bags suggesting the milk carton had burst with the force. It pooled in the cracks between the tiles but that was the least of Delilah’s concern.

The kitchen was a complete mess. Utensils were strewn out everywhere. Thrown here and there. Cupboards flung over, a forlorn box of cornflakes was tipped over the side, its contents on the worktop below. Of course there was only one person who could have done this but Delilah could seldom believe her darling daughter, who had been so much of a star these last few months, could do such a thing.

“ Riley! ” Delilah hollered, anger brewing up in her as she began to replace items such as broken bottles and discarded canned food. Among the mess was her sewing kit, spools of thread all thrown around but still there, apart from the red one. Riley had borrowed that for restitching a skirt a while ago and had never returned it. It was probably still in her jacket pocket. However, something else was missing too. Her dress making scissors. She could not see them in the kitchen either, they were easy to spot, being so large. Nearly nine inches long. Not to mention the bright plastic blue handle.

It was only then occurred to Delilah actually, what if they’d been broken into? She could not see any clear point of entry but that did not mean it had not happened. Fear set upon her again, overcoming her like a tide on the beach before she rushed for the stairs to check upstairs for any further damage- And for her daughters.

This was when the smell began to get worse, encroaching on her sense of smell, causing her to gag as she pressed on. What was that!? It stunk to the high heavens and the house certainly had never had any such pungent odours before she went shopping.

Her feet, which were bare now having toed off her shoes and socks when she had first got home, made contact with something aside from the carpet of the stairs. It was soft. Squishy. It was rounded before it popped under her weight and a lukewarm fluid was released underfoot. She stopped to look down, confused for a moment as to what it was. A white circle mashed into the carpet, with a grey ring and a little punk tail… Was that… An eyeball? Delilah screamed as the optic nerve tickled her toes, causing her to lose her footing, going tumbling back down the stairs. Her head collided roughly with the floor and she was out in seconds.

-

Upon waking up, Delilah groaned in pain as she feebly sat up. She could feel a warm liquid on the back of her head and neck. Blood she assumed, she had likely split her head open from the floor. She was surprised she had woken up at all. Even small head wounds could be fatal… But there was something else. That copper scent from earlier was stronger and now it finally dawned on her. It was blood. She could smell her own blood matting her hair but earlier on it had been the same- And she had not been bleeding then.

Remembering the eye, the first thing Delilah did was throw up. Her body trembled as she turned to empty the contents of her stomach onto the floor. No way she imagined it. That had been someone’s optic nerve. The familiar grey colour suggested who to her- But she could not consider that. She refused to believe it.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she got to her feet to look around. That in itself was hard. The room was incredibly dark. All of the curtains and blinds had been shut, banishing the natural sunlight and the lights were out. She stumbled to the light switch- Only for nothing to happen. Someone had killed the lights. She was not naive enough to believe a power outage was a mere coincidence in a time like this.

Rushing instead to the front door, she rattled on the handle but no luck. It was locked and when she searched for the keys on the table in the entrance way, where she always put them, they were gone.

As the panic and confusion began to set in she frantically checked her pockets for her phone- To provide contact to the outside world or even just a light. It was gone.

Turning to the curtains, she yanked on the nearest ones. They put up some resistance. On closer inspection it seemed they had been duct taped to the wall but the adrenaline made her strong enough to pull the curtains free, tearing the wallpaper the tape was attached to in the process.

It was dusk now and there was very little light outside. The stray beams of half sunlight, half moonlight that filtered in only very slightly illuminated the room and only the half that was nearest the window. Yet that was enough to terrify Delilah.

Covering the walls were red handprints, like a macabre mocking of mischievous children. Delilah knew what it was but it made it easier for her to block it out and think of it as red paint, as frightened tears soaked her face. They were everywhere, apart from one area. One space on the wall had been left be. Instead of handprints, a haphazard drawing of some trees had been inked there. It was messy, clearly done with fingers as the main applicator. Hidden among the cluster was a tall man, drawn as willowy as the woods around him. He wore a suit and lacked a face.

Delilah had to get out of here. As weak as she felt right now, she threw herself at the window, banging on it trying to shatter the glass before another thought caught up to her. In her hysteria she had forgotten about her daughters. Her breathing hitched in her throat.

Turning around, she tried to collect herself. She did not know what was going on but if there was even a slim chance her girls were alive in this twisted mockery of what used to be the family home, she he had to find them.

“ Ri… Riley? ” Delilah called into the darkness. There was no point calling for Blossom, she was just a baby, she couldn’t respond. For a moment, there was only silence. And then there was a whimper from somewhere above her, a broken cry.

Without another thought Delilah raced to the abyssal ascent that was the stairway. Thoughts of the disembodied eye clouded her conviction for a moment. Mayhap it would be safer to escape? Run to the neighbours and call the police first? But no, she decided, by then something dreadful could have happened. She needed to get upstairs.

Gathering her courage, she began the climb, taking the stairs slowly. The light from the window did not reach this face and she was staring into endless shadow. She tried to avoid stepping on the eye again but devoid of light as it were, it was impossible. She flinched as the ball of her foot touched the moist residue, most of the fluid had dried into the carpet but it made it no less disgusting. Her head felt fuzzy and she pressed on before she could repeat her fall from earlier.

Delilah felt breathless as she reached the top, despite having climbed a mere twelve or so steps. The stink up here was worse, more concentrated. She had to heave for breath, panting, unable to take air through her nose. The aroma of awful was just too much to bear. Her lips felt dry. Be it due to using her mouth to sustain her lungs or do to the horrifying reality of her situation.

The first room she came to was Riley’s. The door was slightly askew and opened all the way with a slight creak of protest but it was too dark to see anything. “ Riley? ” Delilah whisper-shouted, but the only sound she could hear this time was her own laboured breathing.

Somewhere behind her a light came on.

Delilah flinched instinctively before spinning to look behind her. Squirming under the tiny cracks in the closed doorway, it shone like a halo around the door but the guiding silhouette did nothing to calm her. How was that light on when she had already checked that the power was out?

Creeping closer to the door, she could feel her heart hammer in her chest. Her footfalls on the creaky floor sounded like an avalanche and she was frighteningly aware of how obvious she was. Whoever, or whatever, was beyond that door knew she was here. Tears streamed down her face, ghosting her lips and leaving a salty taste. Why was she putting herself through this? Her common sense screamed to run away as fast as her jittery legs would carry her but she could not. One thing was more important than her life.

Her daughters.

Fear could only restrain her so much when her mother’s love was called to action. Delilah did not typically consider herself to be any braver than the average person but she did think she had more to lose. Maybe it would be more sensible to make a break for it and have the authorities deal with it- But she fell into that age old trap of refusing to feel helpless. She had to be the one to do something. She could not trust anyone else with the safety of the two people most important to her.

Her hand hesitated, hovering just above the handle before grasping it; the metal cold in her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, as if it made any difference in such dim light. With a small amount of force she pushed the door open. It swung easily round to tap against the wall, giving a whine of protest. As it peeled back to reveal what lay beyond, Delilah became aware of a soft dripping noise. Like a leaky tap.

At first she was not sure what she was looking at. On the floor lay the unrecognisable tangle of… A baby doll? One of Blossom’s toys. Its form was twisted, legs forced up behind it over its shoulders, while one of its arms was missing. Its little pink dress was destroyed, now barely scraps of material hanging from its form. Her hair had been chopped off and littered the floor around her. Red thread had been wrapped around its plastic body. A flashlight was positioned beside it; the light source.

“ What the fu… ” Delilah trailed off, unsure what this morbid display before her was supposed to be. She drew closer, paranoia growing. It was just a doll, she told herself and she needed that flashlight. Bending beside it, her hands shakily grabbed for the light, her nerves making her grip weak and the torch slippery. It took three attempts to pick it up.

She felt breathless, her chest growing tight. Her knuckles turned white, holding the torch with an iron grip. Suddenly she became aware of the dripping noise again. Delilah whimpered and jumped backwards, snapping to turn the light of the torch in the direction of the noise with a swift motion. There was a speck of ooze on the doll’s near bald head. A red spot that slowly began to droop and run down its lifeless face. She hadn’t noticed it before because of the poor visibility and the red thread, but there many similar splotches.

Drip.

Suddenly another hit the plastic skull.

Drip drop.

Another two. Slowly Delilah shakily turned her torch upwards. What she saw made her shriek like a banshee, wailing in a hysterical mixture of terror and disgust. More tears hit her face, splashing off of her face to the floor. Her flashlight hit the floor with a loud thump, the force separating the head from the body, the batteries escaping their prison and killing the only light she had. In the darkness it would be impossible to reassemble it.

The image was seared into Delilah’s mind, like an imprint of the back of her eyes. The room light had swung back and forth, the light shade having been removed. What she at first thought was a red rope had been twisted around the light, lowered down to another dismembered doll. Wrapped around its little neck and torso. Like the other an arm was missing but the legs this time merely hung limp, pointed to the floor. The hair was matted but remained in place. The stomach had been slashed open and an eyeball was missing from its porcelain face. Then Delilah came to the horrid realisation.

It wasn’t a doll.

Seeing the tiny corpse strung up by its own intestines, Delilah felt the bitter taste of the lining of her stomach bubble up in her throat before retching. There was only one person such a petite cadaver could belong to… And to accept that would drive Delilah off the brink into insanity. It was much easier to pretend it was another broken toy.

Somewhere in the darkness, someone laughed. An evil, brutal cackle that echoed off the walls, carrying its malice. Like a hyena fresh from a kill. It was only then that it occurred to Delilah that flashlights cannot be turned on remotely, yet it had been turned on while she was just outside and there was only one exit to this room.

She was not alone.

Scrambling around in the light emptied room, desperately searching for the parts of the torch on her hands and knees, she cursed herself for being so stupid. Her hand frantically brushed over a battery which she snatched up.

However then something collided with her face, hard, knocking her to her back as she let out a cry. Then like she was suddenly on an operating table, a bright light was shone in her face, temporarily stunning and blinding her. Her attacker chortled again. The flick of a switch sounded and the light was gone, leaving her in terrifying darkness. The message was clear. She was not to look for the torch.

They were toying with her, Delilah realised, panting.

For a moment she paused on the floor, gathering her bearings before pushing herself to her feet. She hesitated for a second, waiting to see if another hit came. Nothing. She struggled, rushing forward and bumping into the wall. Slowly she inched around the room, using it to guide her to the doorway which she eventually found.

Out in the hallway she could see the glimmer of light from the window downstairs. The thought that the outside world still existed beyond this madhouse was somewhat comforting.

There were only two other rooms upstairs. Her and Rylan’s shared bedroom and the bathroom. She could not think for the life of her why she would go to her bedroom at a time like this when the bathroom, with its perfectly good lock, was an option. She could have ventured downstairs to break the window and follow through with her original plan but fear derailed any logical train of thought. Her primal instinct to shelter herself somewhere secure and wait for the storm to pass, as unlikely as that was, won out any other wishes.

Finding her way to the bathroom with the help of the downstairs lighting and the wall, she stumbled in. She slammed the door and swiftly jammed the lock shut, bolting out the outside world- But that included the small amount of light she’d had.

Flinging her body back against the door, she gasped. For the first time in hours she felt a sliver of safety. Her breathing began to steady to a regular pattern. Her adrenaline began to waver, bringing attention to the stinging feeling on her cheek and the throbbing at the back of her head.

Squeak!

Delilah flinched. What was that? Searching for any possible source of the noise, trying to keep calm whole she determined whether it came from outside or in the bathroom.

Then there was light. Not like before not a bright, dizzying spotlight to the eyes. A lighter. Just a little flicker of fire. Then another. A tea light, just bright enough to return Delilah’s minimal sight. As her panic began to set in again, the first thing she caught sight of was the bathroom mirror and her own dimly light face. A bright mark adored her cheek, the pattern making it easy to guess it was from the bottom of a boot. A gift from her attacker earlier on.

Then her gaze snapped to the source of the light. Lounging in the bathtub, waving around a tea light in one hand and rubber ducky in the other, one leg hanging out of the tub was her daughter. Still clad in her convention outfit. Her top hat was squint, pushed to the front of her head, her goggles holding it up from tilting any further forward and falling.

“ Fancy a bubble bath? ” She inquired, her grip on the bath toy tightening slowly to release a long, depressed squeal from it.

“ Riley! ” Delilah exclaimed in an whisper-shout. “ What are you doing in there? ” She asked, while Riley gently rocked the foot she had hanging out of the tub back and forth. As if she had not a care in the world.

“ …Having a bath? ” Riley responded nonchalantly, throwing the rubber duck to the other end of the bath and setting the candle down on the edge of the bath before getting to her feet. Her boots thumped on the floor as she hopped out. “ What else am I doing in the bath? ” She asked with a voice full of attitude.

“ Because- ” Delilah began loudly before lowering her voice. “ Because for a start you’re fully clothed and two, there is someone in this house trying to kill us, ” She said, placing her hands on Riley’s shoulders trying to shake some sense into her daughter. Even for as odd as her girl could be, surely she could grasp the gravity of the situation?

“ Well, yeah, ” Riley’s response came with typical teenage boredom. Like a nineteen year old trying to explain the Internet to their ageing parents.

“ What do you mean 'yeah’? ” Delilah responds, fussing. “ Did they hurt you? Are you alright? ” She asks, her hand moving down slightly and catching onto something sticky on her daughter’s outfit. Her shirt was wet and the red colour was only barely visible in the dark. “ Oh my god- Are you alright? ” She gasps, as the half dried blood clings to her fingers.

“ Huh? ” Riley responds looking down before flashing a grin. “ Oh? That. Don’t worry. It’s not mine. ”

Delilah was engulfed in emotion for a moment, first relief that Riley was safe. Then confusion, who’s blood was it then if not hers? And then finally, the horrid realisation hit her.

“ …No! ” She gasped, as she staggered away from her daughter, grabbing frantically for the lock. As she struggled with the small bolt, Riley snickered behind her. With a great exertion of her remaining strength Delilah managed to force the door open, at the cost of slicing open the skin on the the side of her hand open.

Delilah whimpered as she rushed out of the room, shaking her now blooded palm as she rushed into the hallway, the warmth of her needed fluid spilling out against her skin causing her to shiver. As she bolted for the stairway, she glanced behind her for a single moment. Riley stood there, in the doorway of the bathroom, candle in hand having retrieved it from the edge of the bathtub. Her maniacal smile was barely illuminated in the dim light. She raised her opposite hand and pinched the wick with her index finger and thumb- Extinguishing the light. Plunging upstairs into darkness once more.

Racing downstairs, Delilah stumbled in her haste and gravity did the rest, causing her to slip forward and rather ungracefully descend the stairs for the second time today. She landed on her front this time, winding herself, knocking the air from her lungs. She wheezed, panting as she crawled forward, her nails scratching the floor as she drove herself forward to the wall. Tearing the handprinted wallpaper as she tried to return to her feet, she cried out, as a pain shot through her ankle.

Looking down the nauseous feeling in her stomach returned at full force. Her left ankle was twisted in an unnatural fashion and trying to support weight upon it was met only with agony.

Limping towards the window, doing her best to avoid using her left leg as much as possible, she paused and huffed as she tried to steel herself and ignore the multitudes of pain coursing through her. She was starting to feel dizzy, the amount of blood she had lost starting to take its toll on her.

Yet it seemed she could not catch a break. She could heard footsteps coming from the upstairs hallway. Boots stomping. Slow and loud. Taunting her again, letting her know she was coming, like a lamb who knew the butcher was only just beyond the relative safety of its pen.

Why her? Why did it have to be Riley? She was a good kid! She got decent grades in school, did all she could to help around the house and only very rarely got into fist fights with other students. Had she missed something? Had she overlooked some sort of mental health issue? No, she thought, trying to keep focussed as her vision spun before her like a carousel. She was a tentative mother, of that she was sure. She had been there to fuss when the school had referred her to a specialist to have her diagnosed with ADHD. She had been there. If there was some deep seated psychological reason, she would know.

The footsteps banged on the stairs, beginning to get closer, telling Delilah she had a limited time to come up with a plan of action. Banging on the glass of the window, she screamed in frustration. She could sense Riley lurking in the shadows of the hallway.

Growing more and more hysterical, she began to ram the window with the full force of her shoulder. An amused 'heh’ alerted her Riley was in the room with her, barely a few steps away, taking her time, leisurely strolling across to Delilah. Trapped, like a fish in a barrel.

Finally, the glass began to break under the force, a small dent beginning to stretch into a line. The possibility of smashing the window becoming more and more real.

Yet it was already too late. The sharp sound of metal scraping metal made Delilah turn. Riley stood directly behind her, face inches from hers, wielding her mother’s stolen dress making scissors. Slowly opening them before snapping them shut again. Some of Blossom’s now dried blood blunted them ever so slightly. Delilah realised Riley had not been taunting her, or trying to work her to panic. She had merely been taking her time to clean her weapon. This threatening gesture was intended to remove the last of the crusty red and sharpen her blade.

“ 'Sup, ” Riley chirped before thrusting her scissors into the right side of her mother’s stomach. Delilah flinched, her hands snapping to Riley’s wrist and white knuckling her, screaming in anguish as she tried to defend herself. Trying to shove Riley back however seemed in vain, her daughter was much better built than she and easily overpowered her, driving the scissors through her body and piercing an exit wound on the skin of her back.

“ No, no, stop! ” Delilah screeched, squirming, as she fell back against the window, hearing it crack more against her weight but not enough to give out. Riley flashed an evil sneer, twisting the scissors, niggling her insides and tearing through human flesh like butter. Delilah felt like she was on fire, the pain rushing through her from her head, her hand, her side, her leg. “ P-Please! Stop! ”

Riley ripped the scissors free, causing more damage as she did so. Delilah sobbed in a mixture of terror and anguish. Her blood splattered the semi broken window behind her like a morbid stain glass painting.

“ What’s wrong? I arrange all this mother-daughter bonding and you don’t even appreciate it? Ungrateful! ” She snapped, as Delilah’s vision began to fade.

“ Why, ” She gasped at her daughter, reaching out a weak hand to her. “ Why would you… ” She trailed off, as Riley pocketed her pilfered scissors and took her mother’s outstretched hand in hers, squeezing it. A motion that might have been affectionate, reassuring even, if not for the context of their situation and the extra pain it caused in Delilah’s injured hand.

“ I understand what daddy meant now, ” Riley tells her, turning her gaze upwards to the drawings on the wallpaper. Her gaze seeming to linger on the painting of the faceless man.

“ Ri… Ril- ” Delilah stuttered, her voice escaping her as she slumped against the window, sliding to the floor. Riley went with her, lowering herself, crouching before her.

“ Shh, shh, it’s okay… Go ahead, you can rest now, it’s over for you, ” Her daughter’s scratchy voice whispered, their hands still holding onto one another, fingers intertwined.

Delilah was already so far gone, she was barely aware of the revolver being lifted to her head.

Bang!

-

A few weeks later, Rylan was sipping his coffee, his eyes never leaving the broadsheet newspaper in front of him. He had been nursing this hot beverage for long enough it had went cold but in a cozy, backwater truck stop in the middle of no where like this? Nobody bothered him over it.

He had always known it was a possibility this would happen. A very probably one in fact. The question had merely been by who’s hand. Yet, reading about Delilah and Blossom’s gruesome end still stirred deep sentimentality in him. Still, they had served their purpose. As had he. His time was limited now. He would be replaced soon- Discarded.

The bell on the door tinkled alerting the sparsely populated diner someone else had entered. Rylan heard them brush off a waitress, telling them to give her a moment. He glanced up slightly.

“ You know, you’re inconspicuous as fuck in that outfit, ” He grumbled, as his daughter took a seat across from him. “ You’re supposed to be laying low. ”

“ 'You’re supposed to be laying low’, ” She mimicked sassily. “ Fuck off, Snitch, ” She grunted, addressing him by his alias rather than his proper name, despite knowing it full well. She shivered, clearly cold, pulling her tailcoat close. “ This place is fucking freezing, ” She grumbled before picking up Rylan’s coffee, taking a long gulp before beginning to choke up. “ Fucking hell! That’s cold, how can you drink that swill? ”

“ Will you be quiet? You’re causing a scene, ” Rylan warned her lowly, the few other cafe goers risking glances at the unusual pair.

“ See, the thing is, to cause a scene you need a crowd and unless you hadn’t noticed, we might as well be in the Sahara, ” She retorts. Rylan snorts, turning up his nose at her.

“ …You been given a name? ” He asks simply moving on. She flashed a toothy grin, glancing over as one of the waitresses tried to perform a hushed phone call. As Rylan had suspected, his daughter’s over-the-top getup had given them away almost instantly, sticking out like a sore thumb. It would hardly be a tricky police line up.

“ Aye, ” She told him, lifting her revolver and firing without looking. In the last few weeks, her skills had already been honed. Trained by the tough lifestyle and the threat of death in the face of failure.

Someone screamed, as the waitress’ brain was turned to mush with the impact of the bullet before spraying across the wall.

“ Bullseye, ” The girl let out a low self-impressed whistle. “ Three sixty no scope that shit! ”

“ Nice shot but don’t be an idiot. So, name? ” Rylan pressed, guiding her attention back to his question, as people began running from the truck stop, screaming bloody murder. In such a secluded country corner, the duo could take their time. Any law enforcement would be at least ten minutes this far out in the sticks.

“ Steampunk, don’t wear it out, ” She told him as she clicked the safety of the revolver back on and holstered it again.

“ …You’ll be…. An interesting proxy. I’m sure he’ll be watching you very closely. ”

[firstade-universe]

Clarke Griffin Has Shitty Taste in Dates

Clarke Griffin has shitty taste in dates.

That’s what Lexa Woods has come to know. The blonde artist was her roommate. They met in their last few months in college and fell into an easy friendship. When they both got jobs downtown, Clarke at a gallery and Lexa with a law firm, they decided to move in together. They actually had a very good roommate relationship. Neither was overly messy, they both cleaned up after themselves. They both liked the same shows and music. It was almost perfect. If you ask their friends, they were a little closer than most roommates. Clarke would snuggle into Lexa when they watched tv and sometimes call her babe when asking if she wanted something. That could just be chalked up to Clarke’s overly friendly personality, right? Besides, Lexa didn’t correct her wording or refuse her cuddling.

Clarke told Lexa one evening she didn’t want to be single anymore. Lexa, who had her back turned to the blonde when she said it, sighed sadly and suggested she try a dating site. She didn’t see the disappointment in Clarke’s eyes when she sadly said, “Yeah, maybe I should.”

That was two months ago. Clarke, had been on ten dates with ten different people in those past two months. They had all failed, almost spectacularly, in their own way.

First was Niylah, who only wanted sex. She literally asked for them to skip dinner and go back to her place. Clarke told her she wasn’t looking for a hookup. It ended with Clarke and Lexa on the couch with ice cream.

Next was Roan who was too intense for Clarke’s lighthearted personality.

Then Ontari, who turned out to be Roan’s sister, which made everything too weird.

She even finally relented to going on a date with Bellamy, who had been pining after her since high school. Both of them decided it was far to weird. Octavia laughed when Clarke called to tell her how downright awkward the night felt.

There were others but they all ended the same way. Clarke and Lexa. Couch. Ice cream.

However, tonight’s date had ended the worst of all. The date itself was actually really good. He was sweet, seemed kind but flirty. It was going so well, in fact that she asked him back to her apartment. They made their way in and Lexa was on the couch watching tv and making case notes. She looked over her shoulder and scowled at the man who followed Clarke into the apartment.

“He’s your date?” Lexa bit, raising her voice slightly. The tone was not one she had ever heard from Lexa before.

Clarke looked confused at the sudden hostility. “Yes.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, right now, Collins.” She stood quickly, paperwork falling to the floor. Surprise and confusion still washed over Clarke’s face.

“Look, Lexa. This isn’t what you think.” He put his hands up in surrender, but she moved closer.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” She punctuated each sentence with a poke to his shoulder. “You are a piece of shit. I can’t even believe you. Leave now.” He turned quickly and reached for the door, as he pulled it open, she yelled again. “Oh, and you better believe I’m telling Raven.”

He moved quickly out of the apartment and slammed the door, leaving Lexa huffing with anger.

“Okay. So you want to tell me what the hell that was all about?” Clarke asked from her spot in the living room, where she had dropped her purse to the table and crossed her arms over her chest.  Lexa whipped around, nearly forgetting the blonde was still present and didn’t know why she was angry.

“He has a girlfriend. Raven, my friend from work. She introduced me to him last week. They’ve been dating for three years.” Lexa’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry, I sort of lost it. You deserve better than him anyway.”

“He has a girlfriend.” Clarke sighed, then sat on the couch. Lexa moved back to where she had been sitting and picked up her files from the ground. When she looked up from where she was squatting, she saw tears starting to fall from her favorite pair of blue eyes. She moved to kneel in front of her roommate, gripping her knee lightly and rubbing soft circles with her thumb. “Why is this so goddamn hard?”

“I don’t know, Clarke. You’ve seen how successful I’ve been in this area in the past year. The only person who can even remotely put up with me is you.” Lexa chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood. It didn’t seem to work though, it only made the blonde cry harder. The lawyer’s concern increased tenfold. “Hey, you’re okay, it’s going to be okay. What can I do?”

Clarke shook her head, then stood abruptly, nearly knocking Lexa over in the process of scrambling out of the room. This left a stunned Lexa kneeling in front of an empty couch as the bathroom door closed and locked. She gathered her composure and sat on the couch, pulled out her phone and called Raven. They briefly discussed what had gone on and Lexa hung up. She sat in the living room, uncomfortable in the silence that hadn’t existed since she and Clarke had moved in together. She sat there for what felt like hours, just staring at the ceiling. She didn’t even move when she heard the bathroom door open again.

She looked over and saw Clarke slowly approaching the couch again. She held her arms open for the blonde who slowly shook her head, denying the silent offer.

“I need to say something and I really am afraid of how you will react.” Lexa looked to her and nodded slowly, unsure of what Clarke could possibly have to be afraid of. “You have to stop being so nice to me. Stop being so perfect and kind and just… you. I can’t take it. I can’t keep pretending that when you say sweet shit to me or do nice things for me, that it doesn’t make me want to kiss that beautiful smile right off your face. I can’t keep pretending that every date I go on, I wish it was you. You have to stop, because I get it, you don’t feel the same. You don’t want me and that’s okay, I just can’t pretend any more.”

“Clarke.” Lexa breathed out, dumbfounded by the confession.

“No. It’s okay. I’m going to go to Octavia’s tonight. I’ll find a new place to live soon, I get it. I just made this living arrangement super awkward.” She turned to walk down the hallway, back toward her room.

Lexa stood from the couch. “Do I get a say in this or have you just decided everything?”

The sad blonde turned back slowly. “I, uh.”

Lexa put up her hand, signaling for her to stop. “My turn. You, Clarke Griffin, are the most humble, honest, kind, sincere, happy, beautiful person I have ever had the chance to know. You make my bad days better, you make my good days great and you make me feel like safe. I’ve never had that. I’ve spent the last year telling myself I shouldn’t kiss you because it would ruin the one relationship I hold the most dear. So, don’t stand here and tell me I don’t want you, Clarke. I want you, I’ve always wanted you. I just didn’t think I could have you. And now that I know you want me too, there is no way in hell I’m letting you walk away.” During her speech, Lexa had moved within a breath of Clarke. “I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you sooner.” That was it, that was the line that made Clarke close the distance and press her lips to Lexa’s. They both melted into the kiss and pulled away far too quickly for either woman’s liking.

“Will you go on a date with me? I promise it will end better than my last ten.”

Lexa chuckled. “Of course. But, I should warn you, I loved how all those ended. Me, you, the couch and ice cream.”

Clarke Griffin had shitty taste in dates, until she chose Lexa.

[killingkueen]

Irish Twins part 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Also on AO3

Summary: Aaron Gold always knew, in his own way. Belle Kingston, on the other hand, had no idea. In the end, there really isn’t that much difference between water and wine.

A/N: For some reason this wouldn’t post earlier today, so here’s hoping it works now.

The line of Bae’s shoulders dropped as the seconds passed. Neither he nor his papa said anything for long minutes.

They had all walked to the ice cream place together, so it seemed stupid that Belle and Neal had to walk back alone.

His papa was still sitting, staring at the door, and Bae knew he felt that same.

“If we leave now, we can still catch them,” Bae said.

Gold huffed, and Bae knew right then that he wouldn’t be seeing Belle again that day.

“They seemed to be in a hurry,” Gold said, finally looking away from the door.

“So? We still could have all walked together. We’re going to the same place.”

“I would have only slowed them down,” Gold said, gesturing to his cane, still hooked on the table next to him.

“Then they could have have slowed down,” Bae insisted. “Or just waited.”

His papa sighed. “It’s alright, Bae. This is for the best.”

“But Papa—“

“Baden,” Gold said, his voice hardening slightly. There was no impatience, though; after all, he felt more or less the same as Bae. “You’ll see her again,” he murmured. “I promise.”

Bae took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks up before he blew it out in a rush. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

Gold nodded, reaching out to wrap his arm around his son’s small shoulders for good measure.

“Sometimes people just need time to think,” Gold said, pulling Bae to his side. That Bae didn’t resist told him more about his mindset than words ever could. “We all need to figure out what we want, and how we’re going to get it.”

“That makes sense.” Bae knew that was what he was supposed to say, even though he didn’t understand at all. They all wanted the same thing, didn’t they? There didn’t seem to be much to think about.

Gold gave Bae a squeeze. He reached for his cane, deciding that they had stayed in the shop far longer than necessary. “Let’s head back to the hotel. We can decide what to do after a few hours of rest, eh?”

Bae nodded. “Alright.” He followed his papa out onto the sidewalk. “Hey, can we go to a museum?”

“A museum?” Gold wondered if he had heard that right.

“Yeah, like with paintings and stone people, and stuff.”

“You mean the statues? Or the sculptures?”

“Yes! Those. See, I need to learn stuff. It could be really fun. Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not,” Gold denied, even as he bit his lip to hide a smile. “I just think you’d be bored to tears at an art museum.”

“I would not.”

Gold hummed. “I’ll ask around when we get to the hotel, if you insist.” Gold turned his wrist so he could check his watch. “We might not get much of a break though, depending on what time the museums close here.”

“That’s alright.” They walked together for a few more steps before Bae added, “and we could invite Miss Belle and Neal along, too.”

“What did I say about needing time to think?” Gold tried to look stern, but he was far too amused. Luckily, Bae didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh. Right. Next time, then.”

“You’ll see them again soon enough,” Gold repeated. He had a feeling he’d be saying that quite a lot over the next couple days, for both their sakes.

Neal slid his hand into his mother’s when they crossed the street outside of the ice cream place, and he didn’t let go when they were back on the sidewalk. He didn’t say anything on the walk back and Belle, for her part, didn’t either.

They made it to the car and both settled in their seat. Belle had just started the engine when Neal asked, “Do you like them?”

Belle looked at him over her shoulder. “Yes, I do.”

“Even Mr. Gold?”

She hesitated, but not for long. “I think he’s a great father.”

She must have seen something in his face, because she smiled sadly and added, “I mean it. It’s clear he cares very much about Bae and about you.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“He wants to. Frankly, I think it’s an amazing thing that he loves you as much as he does already without knowing you. It takes a special person to be able to do that.”

Neal thought about that as his mother turned around and put the car into gear.

“You don’t know Bae. Don’t you love him?” Neal asked as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“Of course I do,” she said, glancing at him in the mirror.

“It’s not that special, then.” Neal said.

“I guess that just means we’re both special people,” Belle huffed.

That was something Neal could agree with, at least. It didn’t matter though, because as soon as Mr. Gold did get to know him, he’d realize there wasn’t anything that great about him anyway. Neal wondered if that’s when he’d get mean, like Gaston. He knew on some level that no one could be mean like Gaston was, but Gold still hadn’t been all that nice to his mom.

“He apologized, though,” he said out loud.

“Who did?”

“Mr. Gold. For being mean.”

Belle glanced at him again. “Was he mean to you?”

“No, but he was to you.”

“He wasn’t being mean to me,” she said slowly.

“Yeah, he was.”

Belle slowed down for a red light, softly tapping the steering wheel. “Did you hear any of what he said to me?” she asked.

“No," he admitted reluctantly. “But I saw your face.”

“He wasn’t being mean,” she insisted quietly. “He was being honest, and it took me a little by surprise, is all.”

“Gaston’s never said sorry,” Neal muttered. He thought she might have liked knowing that he had gotten an apology.

Belle sighed. “I’m sorry he had to apologize at all Neal, but I’m glad he did, and that he was able to.”

Neal kept quiet after that.

Finally, they pulled into a parking spot at the apartment, next to Gaston’s truck which looked just as shiny and clean as it always did. Neal glared at it through the window.

When Belle cut the engine, instead of getting out she turned in her seat and climbed over the center console, landing part-way in Neal’s lap and on the floor.

“Mom,” he exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing?”

She settled next to him before unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling him onto her lap, which Neal only resisted a little (there was a difference between cuddling into her shoulder at night and sitting on her lap in broad daylight, after all).

Belle wrapped her arms around him, unmovable.“What about you?” she asked. “How are you feeling?”

Neal finally relented, leaning against her. How was he feeling? It felt like inside him were strings and every one was tangled up with each other, and they all needed attention but he didn’t know which one needed to be first.

“I don’t know,” he said finally.

He felt her nod as she rubbed his back. “That’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

Neal kept staring at the truck, at the red paint. A part of him had thought that everything was going to chance, but they had come home just like any other day, and Gaston was inside waiting for them.

As if reading his mind, she said, “Everything might stay the same for awhile, but that doesn’t mean it will forever, okay?”

Tearing his gaze from the pickup, he looked up into his mother’s face. She wasn’t looking at him though, and was instead staring out the windshield, her brow pinched but her face otherwise blank.

“Mom?”

His mother looked down at him, her eyes sad. “I love you so very much, Neal,” she said, hugging him tight. “That’s something I can promise won’t ever change.”

Neal didn’t say anything. He just trailed after her silently when they finally got out of the car, and he stayed behind her when they walked into the apartment. The TV was blaring the sports channel.

“I ordered a pizza,” Gaston said, glancing over when the door opened. “You were taking too long and I figured you could heat up what was left for dinner in a couple...” He trailed off as his gaze landed on Neal.

Gaston craned his neck, as if looking for someone behind the doorway.

“Where’s Bradon?” he asked.

No one said anything for an entire minute—Neal knew it was a minute because he started counting in his head (Bradon Goldstein. It was almost funny). It wasn’t until he was on sixty-eight hippopotamus that his mother spoke.

“Do you think we went to lunch today to switch children?” she asked in a flat voice.

Gaston shrugged, seeming to be unaware that he had said something he shouldn’t have. “Isn’t that what you do when someone else has your kid?”

More long seconds passed (only twenty-three).

“Neal, go to your room.”

He hesitated, not wanting to miss anything important.

“Now, Neal,” she said, by now pinching the bridge of her nose.

Belle waiting until he had disappeared down the hall and into his room, unsurprised when the sound of his door closing didn’t come.

“I just don’t see why we can’t have our kid,” he said before Belle could say anything.

“The problem, Gaston,” she said, exasperated. “Is if you had asked me that night we got the phone call to choose between these two boys, I would have chosen Neal, no hesitation.”

“He’s not our kid!”

“He is in every way that matters! We raised him,” she insisted. “That means something. How can you be so ready to forget nine years of your life?”

He mumbled something, turning to stare petulantly at the TV.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“What did you just say, Gaston?”

“Pizza will be here soon. I didn’t think you’d want to cook tonight anyway.”

Belle took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. After battling it out with Gold, she really didn’t have the stamina to get into a fight with her husband. “It’s been a long and exhausting day,” Belle said in a low voice. “And we have a lot we need to talk about, starting with your abysmal behavior at the restaurant, but I simply do not have the energy for you right now.”

She took her coat off and hung it on the rack that was by the door. She’d have to remember to grab Neal’s and hang his up, otherwise it’d be a crumpled mess on his floor.

“I am going to take a bath.”

“Hey, wait, where's my burger?” He called after her but Belle had already started for the bathroom.

She she shut the door, shutting him out along with his stupid sports channel.

Finding that she didn’t have any bubble bath was an unwelcome surprise, so she used some of Neal’s. There was something to be said for grape flavored baths, after all. Belle carefully lowered herself into the tub, closing her eyes in relief as the hot water covered her to her shoulders. Oh, but she needed this after her day.

God, Gaston couldn’t even remember his name.

It felt like they were all in some bad movie, what with how poorly Gaston had been acting. As confrontational and pig-headed as he usually was, she had thought he’d known better than to pick a fight in front of strangers, much less their estranged son and his father.

She’d have to find out what his excuse for that was. Maybe if she could just understand what was going on in his head, they could fix everything. Well, maybe not fix. Mend, at least. If Gaston was willing to make things work, if he was willing to act like an actual functioning adult, then maybe they could move past this.

If not, they wouldn't stay.

Ugh, everything would be so much easier if the kids were just younger, she thinks. If they were still nice and compact there would have been no problem at all, just an admission of guilt and an easy take-back. Then again, she could hardly entertain the thought of not having raised Neal. He was her boy, and she could never regret that. And now she had Bae, too, and that wouldn’t have happened if they had caught the switch when the kids were toddlers.

God help her, but a part of her had hoped meeting Baden for the first time would be just like meeting any other child. Bae could so easily have been one of Neal’s classmates, or a neighbor down the hall. He'd be cute, sure, but easy to distance herself from, to simply pat on the head before sending him back to his father. How she should have known better: the moment she saw his face she was lost.

Belle sighed, sinking further into the water. No, she could never regret any of this. She only hoped that when all was said and done, she would still able to say that was true.

Bae lasted until Tuesday night.

Really, it was quite a long time when he thought about it, and far longer than anyone could possibly have expected of him, which was exactly what he was going to tell his papa if he got caught.

Usually when returning home, Gold would shed his coat, hanging it in the closet before heading into the study with the mail, where he always took off his suit jacket.

Bae had waited until his papa had moved to the kitchen to start dinner before sneaking into the study and very carefully squirreling away his papa’s cell phone from the pocket of the jacket. He had never been more relieved that his father still had a flip-phone that could only make calls—since his father didn’t do much work from home, its disappearance wouldn’t be noticed until much later.

Not to mention there weren’t any passcodes Bae had to crack. Honestly, you would think his father would realize how easy it was to hack into the dinky little cell phone, but whatever. All the better for Bae.

He hadn’t meant to wait until bedtime, but he hadn’t been alone for any good amount of time before then, and Bae knew that if he got caught too early any chance of a second try was lost.

It was all he could do to wait until after his father had tucked him into bed and turned off his light. Bae could feel himself vibrating with the effort it took to sit still as the sound of his steps faded down the stairs.

He pulled the phone from under his pillow where he had stashed it, and scrolled through the contact list. He almost missed what he was looking for, his eyes scanning right over the first name, which read ABelle Kingston. He squinted his eyes, wondering at the typo.

Odd, Bae thought, but he didn’t have any reason to think why it wasn’t who he was looking for. If it wasn’t her, then he’d just hang up. Easy.

He pressed the green call button, and held his breath as the line rang.

Someone answered on the fourth ring. “Mr. Gold,” Belle said in surprise. “Good evening.”

“No, it’s me,” he said quickly, surprised at the relief that swelled in his chest. “It’s Bae. It’s me, Bae.”

“Baden,” the new happiness in her voice made him feel warm in a way his blankets never could. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“I, uh, I’m good.”

“Is everything alright?”

Bae swallowed. “...you didn’t call. So I...did.”

It had been fine when his papa told him that no, they wouldn’t have the chance to see them Sunday before they left Boston and came home. There hadn’t been any calls made, it had just been decided. It was fine.

There hadn’t been any calls Monday either. That was also fine.

But then it was Tuesday and it wasn’t fine anymore.

There was a long pause, which gave Bae just enough time to think that maybe Belle hadn’t called because she didn’t want to talk to him, and oh no this was a mistake—

“I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to,” she admitted.

Bae sniffed, annoyed at the sudden tears that he could feel behind his eyes. “Because you’re still thinking?”

“Thinking about what?”

“I don’t know. But Papa said that we all needed time to think.”

Belle made a sound of understanding. “He’s a smart man, your papa. Yes, I have been thinking, but I think I’d rather talk to you right now.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s cool,” Bae said, laying back against his bed.

There was a pause as they both waited for the other to start. He stared at the ceiling.

“So,” Belle finally said. “How was school? Did you have a lot of homework since you missed last Friday?”

“Nah. When I told my teacher I was meeting my mom for the first time, she said I’d be excused from everything.”

Belle laughed. “Did she really? How nice of her.”

“Yeah, she likes me.” Mrs. Nolan was the mother of his best friend, Emma. They had both been really excited about the news when Bae told them.

“What about the rest of your day?”

Bae got comfortable in bed as he started on what he had learned in school, and what he had done when he had come home. Sometimes she’d ask questions, but mostly it was her humming in his ear, or laughing at all the right places.

“We rebuilt my Millennium Falcon until it was bedtime, and now that’s where I am. In bed,” he said.

“Wait, your papa already tucked you in? Does...does he know you’re calling me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bae said. Shoot. He hadn’t meant to say that. Hopefully she wouldn’t hang up.

“More importantly, you just played Legos tonight? Doesn't your father read to you?” she asked, sounding absolutely horrified.

“I mean, he used to,” Bae said. “But that’s baby stuff—”

Bae stopped abruptly when his lights flicked on. With the hand not clutching the cell phone, he pushed himself up to his elbow to see his father standing in his doorway, looking thoroughly unamused.

“Papa,” he said.

“Bae.” His eyebrow was raised.

He could hear Belle laughing through the speaker. “Busted,” she said.

At least she wouldn’t yell at him. And she hadn’t hung up yet, for all that mattered now.

Silently, Gold limped into the room and sat down on Bae’s bed. He held his hand out.

“I think he wants to talk to you,” Bae said.

“Oh, oh, hold on,” Belle said, but she sounded far away as he was already handing the cell phone over.

“Hello, Belle, I—Ah, N-Neal. Hi.”

Bae perked up. He crawled out from under his blankets to his papa, trying to hear what Neal was saying. Gold angled the phone so they could both listen.

“—Harry Potter yet?” Neal asked.

Gold looked at Bae expectantly. He almost rolled his eyes; of course that was the first thing Neal would ask.

“Ah, no, Neal, I don’t think he has started to read the books yet.”

“Oh, well. I checked out a book about the Cretaceous period yesterday, but the Pachycephalosaurus hasn’t been mentioned yet.”

“The Pachy…” his papa looked over at Bae. “That one sounds familiar.”

“The ones with the monk spikes on their skull helmet.” Bae explained. He had told Neal that one was his favorite when they were at ice cream last weekend, but he didn’t think Neal would remember, much less go looking for a book. “They don’t show up until pretty late in the period, though.” he said louder, so Neal could hear.

He promised himself that he’d start Harry Potter tomorrow.

“I might just skip then, although the pictures of the eaten—what?”

Belle’s voice replaced Neal, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. He pressed closer to his papa.

“Hey, Mom says we’re coming to visit you this weekend.”

“Really?” Bae said, his voice loud in the quiet of the room. He jumped up and off his bed. “Really? You’re coming here?”

“Bae,” his papa held up a hand, cell phone situated against his ear, but Bae could see the smile on his face. “I can’t—no, Neal, of course it’s okay.”

“Papa, they’re coming here!”

“Great. Now I’ll never get him to bed. No, no, it’s—yes, of course,” he said into the phone. “Goodnight, Neal. Sweet dreams.” There was a pause, then his father said, “Belle, hello, yes, we’re both thrilled. I’ll send you the directions tomorrow.”

“Can we call again?” Bae said quickly. “Tomorrow, can we call?”

Gold looked at him. “I think it’s obvious I’d have a hard time stopping you.” He held out the phone. “Here, say goodnight.”

Bae pressed the phone to his ear. “Are you coming down Friday, like we did? If you go fast, you might be able to get here in two hours, instead of three—”

“Baden,” his papa said.

“Goodnight, Miss Belle,” he said obediently. “Tell Neal ‘night, too.”

He was met with her warm laughter, the sound filling his ear. He pressed the phone closer. “Good night Bae. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Reluctantly he handed the phone back to his father.

He listened carefully as Gold said his own goodbyes to Belle, but he didn’t mention this weekend again before he hung up.

With nothing else to do, Bae let himself be led back under the covers while his papa tucked the blankets under his chin.

“You could have just asked, then we at least could have spoken at a reasonable hour.”

Bae shrugged. “Sorry.”

Gold ruffled his hair, chuckling when Bae scooted down into his nest of covers to get away. “No you’re not.”

He wasn’t in the slightest: if he hadn’t called, Belle might not have decided to come visit. “What do you think we should do?” Bae said. “I want to show Neal the new park, and he can meet Emma. Oh, and Grannie’s! They need to try her lasagna! We should take them around to the old well, too—they won’t have that in the city—”

“Oh, my darling boy, we’re going to talk about it more when it’s not bedtime,” Gold said decisively. “You have school tomorrow, Bae.”

He blew a big breath through his nose. He hadn’t gotten a stern talking to, plus he had the weekend to look forward to now, so it seemed fair to do what his papa wanted. He couldn’t believe it was only Tuesday, and that he was going to have to wait. He didn’t even know when Belle and Neal were coming yet, though he hoped it was Friday. He wouldn’t have to wait as long then.

He was never going to get to sleep.

“Hey, Papa?” he asked.

“Yes, Bae?”

“Will you read to me?”

Gold looked surprised for a moment, but didn’t comment on how odd the request was. “Of course.” He turned to the bookshelf that mostly acted as a stand for his legos and other toys. “Did you have a request?”

“Not really.”

Gold picked something at random before reclaiming his seat on the bed. Bae didn’t recognize the cover, but listened as well as he was able when his mind was still whirling with plans and hopes. His papa read until Bae had drifted off, where he dreamed of warmth and long car rides, and magic bones found underground.