#the amount of fucking incredible outfits she could have with a NORMAL DRESS instead of weird ass waist ‘cinching’ skirt on every single

[linoguy]

twice’s stylists for jeongyeon drive me nuts but what’s new 🚬 I’ve made this post before but if they stopped trying to distract from or hide her weight they would realize that her weight actually doesn’t make her less attractive but More attractive and that by trying to hide it to begin with, they bring even more attention to it despite all their attempts, even though it’s not a bad thing to begin with

[liliacvol6]

POV: You’re The Hot Ex~ Bucky Barnes

This was inspired by a playlist I put together and I was full of “I’m hot as fuck, my ex is crying” vibes so I decided to write a lil something. 

No happy ending, unless someone wants a part 2?? I’d be down to write it, also if this is shit let me know because I want to improve my writing. Love y’all. 

~~~~

“You sure you wanna go to Stark’s party tonight? Barnes and his new girl will be there.” Nat said, sitting on the bed next to Wanda. They both looked at each other, the break up was hard but what had been harder to deal with was when Bucky had a stream of females constantly coming in and out of the tower where you both lived. And then, one day, the sex parade stopped and only one of them continued to come and go. April, was her name. She thrived off of Bucky and his Avengers status, you hated her for obvious reasons and couldn’t understand why Bucky would want her. She seemed like a fine person, but your personal bias was too strong for you to ever be kind to her.

“It’s fine, I don’t need him to feel good about myself, who knows maybe I’ll hook up with Sam or Steve tonight to really rub it in that I’m over it.” You said opening your closet and trying to find a hot outfit. You couldn’t decide whether you actually wanted to seduce one of your friends to try and piss Bucky off or not, but you wanted to look sexy anyways. 

“Mhm, right. Well maybe you should wear red.” Wanda suggested, making you turn around 

“Why red?” You questioned, making Nat turn to Wanda as well, she shrugged and said, “Well I happen to know Bucky likes that color on you.” You rolled your eyes, but turned around and started looking for your favorite red dress. Not to impress Bucky of course, but to look sexy in a dress of his favorite color and have him die knowing he can’t take it off of you.

~~~~

You were standing in the hallway waiting for Wanda to finish getting ready, Nat had already gone down saying she was going to grab drinks for the three of you, while you waited for Wanda. Wanda came out in a gorgeous black dress, you whistled at her 

“Get out, you’re the one who looks absolutely sexy.” You winked at her, looping your arms together you waltzed to the elevator to head down to the party. 

~~

It took everything in you not to scan the room and look for Bucky, so instead you looked directly to the bar. Nat was behind it filling her own drinks, you guys made your way over to her and noticed Steve sitting there chatting. 

He turned when Nat yelled hello above the music. “Wow, you ladies look amazing.” He said handing glasses to you and Wanda. Nat’s expression faltered a little and you soon found out why when Bucky and April approached the bar and sat next to Steve. You didn’t even look at him, you just took a sip of your cocktail.

“Jesus Nat, this is strong” You exclaimed laughing a little.

“Oh my god, I love strong drinks, right James? When we went on our first date that was something we bonded over.” April said laughing. You could picture her hugging his arm and you wanted to roll your eyes. But you looked up at smiled at her, “that’s cute”. You made eye contact with Bucky and tried your best not to show any kind of emotion. The breakup had been incredibly difficult and your tried your best to not show how hurt you were whenever you were around Bucky. He said he couldn’t worry about hurting you physically so instead he just decided to dump you on a mission instead. 

Sam came over, already drunk, and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and gave you a kiss on the cheek. 

“D.A.M.N. (Y/N) you are the hot ex, for sure, Buck don’t even look over here you’ll just regret your decisions” He said, making you smile silently and Wanda slapping Sam. 

“Sam...” Steve started to say, but before he could lecture you turned to Sam.

“Thanks, I’d love it if you danced with me right now. Yanno, since I look so good, it would be a shame if I just sat around all night.” Sam nodded and you led him onto the dance floor.

In truth, your heart was ripped out of your chest every time you saw Bucky. Especially the times when it was in the hallway and he tried to smile at you, but you just couldn’t do it. You tried your best to dance with Sam but you weren’t feeling it. You had to try your hardest to get over Bucky, so you tried to let it go. Just forget the pain, let the alcohol flood through you and now your goal was to try and fuck Sam. Just to get over the man who broke your heart.

~~~~

It was the end of the night, you spent a lot of time dancing sexily with Sam, only spotting Bucky and April once during your dancing. Bucky had made eye contact with you, you winked at him. At that point you had been wasted, it wasn’t an act anymore you were wanting Sam more and more, he was right. You were hot and ready to move on. Well, that’s what the alcohol haze was telling you.

~~

Now you were sitting with Nat drinking water to make up for the mass amount of alcohol. 

“You and Sam are getting pretty friendly” She said taking a sip of her drink, you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah, well gotta move on eventually.” You stated as you looked up and scanned the room, she snorted

“Right, that’s why you keep scanning the room for your ex?” You immediately took your eyes off of the room and turned to her. “Oh, shit, neverm-” You interrupted her by spilling your inner thoughts out. You were with your best friend and couldn’t hold back your emotions. You had them locked up since the break up and they just came flooding out.

“I’m so fucking sad, I want Sam sure for a one night stand because I keep telling myself it’ll make me get over him. But I know it won’t. I love him, I never fucking told him I loved him. We fought the day we broke up and I was going to tell him and then I didn’t and now I want to get over him but I just don’t know if I can.” You spilled your feelings to Nat, something you normally would not do if you were sober. Nat wasn’t speaking, she had reached out while you were talking and grabbed your hands. In your drunken state you thought it had been a grab of endearment 

“Uh, hi” You heard a female voice, you turned thinking it was Wanda but it was April standing there, with a red face and Bucky behind her holding a plate of cookies. “We came to offer you cookies, Bucky said they were Natasha’s favorites.” She said grabbing the tray from Bucky and placing it on the table. Bucky was staring at the ground and you got up and faced April.

“I’m sorry, I’m drunk, I didn’t mean anything I said honest-” Before you could finish, April slapped you across the face. “What the fuck?” You yelled grabbing your face. Bucky grabbed April and pulled her away from you.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked her, Nat got up and came next to you.

“You broke his fucking heart and then have the audacity to say you love him? really? When he is finally happy and in love again? We exchanged I love you’s already. Clearly if you loved him you would have told him.” April spat at you from Bucky’s arm. He looked at you with a horrified expression, you gulped in air. You didn’t know what to say. They already said I love you to each other? You were heartbroken.

“We’re leaving.” She said, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the party. 

You got to the door and hit the elevator button when you started to cry. 

“Wait, (Y/N), Nat!” You turned and saw Bucky,

“Great, fucking great” you said looking up at the ceiling and trying to stop the tears.

“Please, can I walk you to your room?” He asked, you knew he was looking at you, but you had turned away and didn’t want him to see you cry.

“No, Buck, go back to April. Make sure she’s fine.” You said quietly. You got into the elevator and when the door was closing you finally looked up at him. He had silent tears in his eyes.

“(Y/N) please, I love you too” He pleaded, the elevator door closed and you turned into Nat and cried hysterically on her shoulder. 

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

Part 2 has been posted: https://liliacvol6.tumblr.com/post/653548607607275520/pov-youre-the-hot-ex-part-2 

Love you all xoxo

[marvelobsessedteenager]

All The Hurt - Chapter 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, Peter was an ass, reader is a hurt and petty bitch, fluff to make up for the angst, curse words, lots of “coincidences”

Word Count: 4.1k

A/n: The amount of love I've gotten is absolutely incredible. Thank you guys for the support! Enjoy :3 -----------------------------------------

Flash had suggested driving both him and yourself to Liz’s house, and you agreed, simply because car rides with him were more fun. You got there earlier than anyone else, giving Flash time to set up his DJ equipment and speakers while you helped Liz and Betty set up the lights, food, and drinks.

Not an hour later and the house was full of people that you knew and didn’t know, but welcomed anyway. Everybody walking around was having a good time, drinking soda out of a red solo cup and dancing to Flash’s party music. You would be lying if you told yourself your eyes weren’t examining the dance floor for a particular bed of curls.

In your mind, you knew there was no way Peter knew Spider-Man. You saw it in the way he told everyone he did today at the gym. His left hand was wildly shaking — a clear telltale of nerves you’d figured out long ago.

Something else was bothering you, though, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

That bruise. You knew for a fact Peter wasn’t a fighter, mainly when it came to bullies - words or actions. He never retaliated, which is why people considered him an easy target. You wouldn’t put it past him to allow himself to get beaten up, but you would have known if that’d happened. Flash was definitely his number one bully, but he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Peter, and neither would any of his friends, especially since they all knew your history with Peter.

They were all bark and no bite, which meant that there was another explanation for it, but for the love of God, you couldn’t figure out what it was.

And speak of the devil.

You smirked as you caught sight of him, worried thoughts vanishing as you weaved your way through the crowd to Flash, whispering in his ear about your discovery. He flashed you a wicked smile, turned down the music, and grabbed the mic.

“Penis Parker! What’s up?” Flash yelled into the mic, causing Peter to freeze and turn to look at Flash, who was pointing right at him.

“Hey, Y/n,” Flash pretended to search the crowd then turned to you, “Where do you think his pal Spider-Man is?” He placed the mic below your lips and waited for your preplanned answer.

“Hm, let me a guess.” You sweetly said, tapping your chin like you were thinking, “in Canada with his imaginary girlfriend?” You raised your eyebrows, eyes boring into Peter’s with fire burning behind your pupils, your brain ignoring your heart that was begging you to stop upsetting him as you caught the flash of hurt that crossed his features.

The crowd laughed and “ooh” ed as Flash played a “burn” sound effect, “That’s not Spider-Man,” He jutted his chin towards Ned, “that’s just Ned in a red shirt.”

You watched him walk away from the giggling crowd, fuming, and you bumped your fist with Flash's in victory. He turned up the music, and you made your way to the dance floor with your friends, as you swayed your hips to the loud tune. Your group sang loudly to the songs, and though it was deafening and off-tune, you never felt freer than when you screamed the lyrics with them.

At some point, your voice started sounding raspy, and your throat was begging you for some sort of liquid to heal the ache. You excused yourself from the group, walked to the kitchen and grabbed a solo cup, filling it with cool water and chugging it down.

But, of fucking course, someone had to ruin your night and your favorite white dress by bumping into you and spilling coke on your outfit. That someone was a girl with piercing blue eyes and brown hair — someone you didn't recognize. It was clear she didn’t go to Midtown considering she squeaked an apology and ran to her friends, who glanced back at you and immediately dashed out of the house.

Great.

You would ask Liz for another dress, but you weren’t exactly tight with her. You’d also ask your friends to take you home to change, but as you looked at them jumping around and bobbing their heads to the music, you figured they were having too much fun, and you didn’t want to ruin it.

You would normally call your driver, but you hadn’t had the chance to set up your new phone just yet.

Sighing, you grabbed your denim jacket you hid below the counter earlier, put it on, and began your journey home on foot. Your house was located about thirty minutes away from Liz’s, which wasn’t really a big deal for you.

About fifteen minutes of strolling in silence and kicking any rock that caught your eye, you passed by a playground that looked familiar. It was the very same playground you and Peter would play in when you were children. You’d take turns pushing each other on the swing, and when you were old enough to do it yourself, you would both compete to see who’d go higher and who could jump off the swing the farthest. It always resulted in an injury, but you two always laughed it off, especially when Jane would run over worriedly with a first-aid kit.

As you went into your early teenage years, you’d meet at the playground alone and climb to the top of the dome climber with different (and disgusting) flavored milkshakes, exchanging it with each other every now and again, and watch the river flow peacefully.

The same river in which Iron-Man is flying out of with Spider-Man in his arms.

Wait, what?

You snapped out of your reverie and did a double take before you quickly dove into one of the many bushes, the quick rate of your heartbeat becoming a distraction from the fresh cut on your exposed neck from the sharp branches.

You could see everything that was happening in front of you, but not necessarily hear everything. Your wide eyes curiously peeked over the bushes, watching as Iron-Man placed Spider-Man on the dome. And maybe it was your hearing, but you swore you knew the high pitched voice that was exaggeratedly saying something.

You saw Spider-Man tug his mask off and wring it out, which made the back of his head incredibly visible. Brown hair. Or maybe black. It was too dark to see the difference. You debated moving a little closer to hear the conversation.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t right. Spider-Man was entitled to protect his identity. But you could keep a secret. Besides, maybe this could be the moment you’d thank him for saving you. You doubted he’d remember what he did, but you’d never forget.

So, you crept a little closer to make out the words, despite your gut telling you you shouldn’t.

“What were you thinking?” Iron-Man asked in a way that made you believe Spider-Man was in trouble.

“The guy with the wings is obviously the source of the weapons, I gotta take him down!”

Wait. That sounds like-

“Take him down now, huh? Steady, Crockett, there are people who handle this sort of thing.” Iron-Man said, waving his arm around.

“The Avengers?”

“No, no, no, just a little below their…pay grade.”

“Anyway, Mr. Stark, you didn’t have to come all the way out here, I-I had that. I was fine.”

But that was all you could hear. Because as the conversation went on, the gears in your head begun turning, the dots seemed to connect faster than you could comprehend.

The strange bruise on his jaw after it was shown on the news that a certain superhero fought robbers at the bank across Delmar’s. Him running out of school once it was over. The fact that he left school for two weeks and mysteriously came back. Him ‘allegedly’ saying your name when he saved you. All the times he ditched you in the past were the same times Spider-Man was on the news for a heroic saving. You remembered because you’d send the news to Peter. The “Stark Internship” excuse wasn’t real.

But this was.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Peter Parker saved your life.

The amount of information was loud. So, so, loud. You couldn’t hear the bickering that went on. A rush of emotions went through you. The first was rage. Is this it? Is this is his reason for letting you go? He couldn’t have just been honest and told you? You bet he told Ned. But he couldn’t tell you, could he?

But just as quickly as it came, your anger left you, instead being replaced with worry. You hated to admit it, but you were worried about him. How could he go out there every day and put his life on the line like that? What about his wounds and injuries? Did he suffer through those alone? Or did May help him heal?

Does May even know? Does anybody know?

Lastly, panic, and that was the strongest of them all. Holy shit, you thought, I just found out that my ex best friend and former crush is a superhero. He shoots webs out of his hands or something and sticks to walls and saves strangers and fights criminals and-

And Iron-Man is flying away.

And Spider-Man is walking in your direction.

I need to go.

As soon as you turned around, still crouched but ready to fucking bolt, you accidentally stepped on something hard, and you had to bite your tongue to keep your hissing inside. Once the pain slightly subsided, you looked downwards and moved your head closer to the object. A loud purring sound was emitting from it, and if there was anything in this world that screamed danger, it was this.

You were careful to pick it up and examine it. In the middle of this..machine was a bright purple stone and it was fucking glowing. You looked around you and caught Spider-Man muttering something to himself right before an obnoxious ringing made its way into your ears, prompting you to cringe and put your hands over them as you crouched.

It’s the same annoying fucking ringtone as Peter’s.

You waited for him to move a little farther, and when he did, you peeked from behind the bush. He had just closed the phone and continued his walk. You didn’t know if this thing was a bomb or something explosive, so throwing it in his direction was already ruled out. Besides, he was already beyond throw distance. You knew the safest way to get it to him.

You knew what to do. You hated that you did, but you had to do it.

Maybe hearing him talk to you would confirm or deny your hypothesis. Anybody could have brown hair, a high-pitched voice and the same ringtone as your ex-best friend and be a superhero that saved you two weeks ago.

You took a deep breath to calm your hammering heart from ripping through your ribcage and escaping. “I hate my life,” you mumbled as you rose and followed him with your heart still beating out of your chest, almost sure it was louder than your barely audible footsteps.

Don’t trip, don’t trip.

When you got close to him, close enough to tap him on the shoulder, he quickly turned around and got into a fighting position with his fists ready to punch. You were so shocked that you dropped the object and backed away with your hands up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. ”

Upon seeing a citizen (that he knew too well) he dropped his stance, “S-uh..sorry. I-I thought you..uh..” He cleared his throat, “Sorry, ma’am. How can I help you?” He said, very clearly thickening his voice and awkwardly placing his hands on his hips.

But you knew that sound anywhere.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. It is him.

You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat as you felt it clogging your ability to breathe.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/n.” You mentally smacked yourself. He already knows you, dumbass.

Should you tell him he knows you, though? Should you tell him you know him? No, what? You vehemently shook your head.

“A-anyway I, um, found this-” You picked up the object and turned it around in your hands, “-on my way home and I think it’ll help you? I don’t know, it’s definitely not man-made, I suppose. I’m not exactly an expert but I thought you’d be and you just so happened to be in my neighborhood and I am, too, and this thing is glowing and-”

His spider..eye..thingies were as wide as saucers, and it was only now that you noticed you were rambling. Your cheeks flushed, and you immediately cursed at your body for betraying you.

This is worse than tripping.

“Sorry,” you looked down at your shoes, "I babble when I’m-“ Nope. Not letting him know you’re nervous. Not that he doesn’t already know. You found yourself regretting telling him all your triggers and quirks in the past, because right now, you couldn’t tell whether he could figure you out or not.

He probably could, though.

This night just kept getting worse. Pack it up already.

You cleared your throat and straightened your shoulders in the most confident way you could, “Here,” you outstretched your arm to him, waiting for him to grab the foreign object, but all he did was stare, and stare, and stare. You didn't really know where to look, and you didn't know if he was gazing at you or not, but before you could say anything, he snapped out of whatever he was in and took a hold of the object. You tried not to think about his masked fingers that grazed yours.

“Thanks, uh, Y/n.”  He said, not as intrigued by the object as you thought he’d be. Instead, he seemed to be looking at you. Or behind you. You still couldn't tell. You were too caught up in the way he said your name. It felt strangely familiar, and comforted you for a moment. It made you feel safe and wanted. Loved.

Before the memories reminded you of what he’d done.

“Sure,” you nodded, slowly backing away, “um, see you...around.”

“Yeah.”

As you turned on your heel to continue your trip home, he pipped up, “Oh, um, would- do you want me to walk you home? It’s really dark out here.”

You entertained the thought in your head for a second. "What could possibly happen if he walked you home, besides guaranteeing you safety?” Your heart spoke.

"Oh, I don’t know, you could accidentally blurt out that you know him, and then things will get even more awkward than they already are.” Your brain fought back, stubborn as ever.

Yeah, you’re definitely just going to pass up his offer.

“I’m, uh, I’m good. Need a little time to myself.” You nervously chuckled, wrapping your arms around yourself, “Thanks, though, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah.” He repeated, shifting his weight from one foot to another as he watched you walk away from him.

Like he’d done to you.

The rest of the fifteen minutes passed by faster than you anticipated, but maybe it was because you were too preoccupied considering you just confirmed your ex-best friend was a fucking superhero with fucking superpowers. As the confirmation made its way into your brain, you noticed that the signs were right beneath your nose, but you weren’t observant enough to figure it out. They started before he left you.

How did it start to begin with? Has he always had these powers?

Wait, no. Because Spider-Man wasn’t always around. And even if he really did have them for a long time, why leave you now? It must’ve been recent, you concluded.

But how? How does one go from an ordinary, lanky teenager to a robust superhero who can stop a speeding bus with his bare hands?

As one question was answered, another one took its place. The list just kept going and going, without a clear sign of it stopping.

In all honesty, you thought the videos that popped up on your YouTube recommended page of a web-slinging human were staged. In your defense, he seemed quite small to be a hero, and it wouldn’t be the first time some kid tried to fool the world with “a new superhero". You remember sending it to Peter and asking him if he thought it was real.

He never answered.

You hadn’t realized you were standing on your porch, staring at the overly large mahogany door in front of you. You sighed and took out your keys, placing them in the lock and twisting it.

You were lucky today was the beginning of the weekend. You wouldn’t be able to face him after seeing what you just saw. You didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t know what to do. Should you let him know that you know?

Should you let anyone know that you know?

That was the worst part about this whole thing. You had no one to turn to. No one to talk to about this, and there definitely wouldn’t be a wikiHow page on how to deal with something like this.

So, you ruled it out. One of the choices was obviously keeping the secret to yourself and not telling Peter you knew his identity. It would keep things from getting too awkward to handle and would keep him safe.

The other choice, the really horrible one, was to let everyone know. A part of you was still mad at what he’d done. You mean, he didn’t even try to apologize as he should’ve. That evil part of you, the hurt part, wanted revenge — wanted you to ruin Peter like he did you.

You knew people would believe you if you told them. You knew they’d find their ways to figure out if it’s true or not. But for some reason, you were hesitant. Yes, Peter ruined your life. Yes, Peter broke you in ways you believed were beyond mendable.

But Peter was also the boy who gave you his last Iron-Man bandaid when you scraped your elbow the first time you met. He’s the boy who pushed your bully and got punched in the face for it when you were ten. He’s the boy who saved your life the other day - the boy who saves dozens of strangers every week.

It was clear which option was better.

Keeping his secret didn’t mean you forgave him, though.

After everything, you didn’t know if you allowed yourself to forgive him. Part of you wanted you to, pleaded you to for the sake of moving on, but the more stubborn part of you remembered the pain you went through; the nights you spent crying yourself to sleep, the newfound insecurities of not being enough for anybody, the fear that others will leave you behind like he did.

Hell, you had a locked note in your notes app that contained a long speech about how you felt — about how he made you feel. The one you were to send him — but ended up deleting.

You groaned and rubbed your head, feeling an oncoming headache from the questions. You stayed in your house that weekend, trapped with a racing mind and no answers to slow it down.

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

You started noticing Peter act differently towards you when your freshman year of high school was close to ending. It started off with him rescheduling long-awaited plans and then showing up late, but you didn’t mind. He had told you he scored an internship at Stark Industries, and you swore you’d never felt prouder in your entire life.

He informed you that he could be called in at any given moment, which was his reason for leaving in the middle of your hangouts. You understood, and so, you encouraged him to do so.

But then, as time went by, you noticed a change. Instead of postponing the plans, he’d cancel them all together and wouldn’t make up for them. And sometimes, in the rare occasion in which he did postpone them, he’d stand you up, keeping you awake until you were on the brink of sleep.

He apologized multiple times for doing so, blaming it on the time the internship took for him, and you let it go, even when it became a pattern to leave you stranded.

You were okay with it.

Until it became too much.

During lunch, you could never find him, which ended up with you eating alone. During the only class you shared with him, he’d zone out while you were talking and completely ignore you. You’d normally come out of your last period ready to see him standing by your locker to begin your journey home, but he stopped being there, and you would walk home alone.

Texts and calls went unnoticed, and you felt the barrier he had placed between the two of you grow higher and higher as the time passed by.

What bothered you is that it was just with you. He acted completely normal around Ned. You often saw them chatting and laughing while you watched from afar, heart breaking into two as you wondered where you went wrong. You inspected every text message you sent and every conversation you had, often staying up late re-reading it until you reached the top. You just didn’t understand what happened.

One day, you approached him after school, running after him as he bolted through the school’s gates into the outside.

“Hey!” You called as you caught up to him and grabbed his arm, which flexed beneath your grip. You sighed and slightly loosened your grasp, “Can, um, can we talk?”

Peter visibly gulped, hesitantly nodding as his eyes bounced around your figure, never looking at you.

“Peter.” You ran a hand through your hair, carefully choosing your next words as to approach this topic cautiously, “What’s going on with you? You..you’ve been acting weird and distant. D-did do something?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Peter said, almost offendedly, quick to defend himself.

“Peter we haven’t hung out in weeks because you’ve been canceling them.” You retaliated.

“I told you, I-it’s the internship.”

You frowned, heart clenching at the tiredness that seeped into his voice, “I know.” You gave him a small smile, hoping for one in return, “I’m your best friend. I’m always here for you, you know.”

“I-“ He sharply inhaled, scratching the back of his head with his shaking left hand. “I don’t want you to be.”

Your smile instantly dropped, feeling a painful nudge in your stomach, “What?”

“I don’t..this isn’t working, Y/n. We can’t be friends anymore. I’m done.” He said. And so easily, too.

I’m done, he’d said.

Your heart stopped for a moment, taken aback by his bluntness and the harshness that came with his words, “What? Why? N-no.” You denied, "You’re just gonna leave? You can’t do that, I..What did I do?”

“Nothing. It’s just..it’s just better this way.” Peter visibly gulped, looking around the streets like he wasn’t standing there, breaking your fragile heart into pieces while you were trying your hardest to not fall apart right in front of him.

Dignity was still a thing. But so was your friendship.

“I can’t fix this if you won’t let me, Pete.” You pleaded, hoping he’d admit that something was wrong - that it wasn’t you that he was pushing away, that there was a reason for him doing so. You could fix this. You could.

“There’s nothing to fix. I don’t want to be friends, that’s it.” He shrugged, shuffling backward, getting ready to make a run from it.

“No,” you stopped him, grabbing his hand softly, despite the tears that already ran down your face, “There has to be a reason! Y-you can’t just leave like that! Give me a reason! WHAT DID I DO?!”

When he didn’t respond, you gave his loose hand a squeeze and wiped your tears with your sleeve, already feeling stupid for the amount of vulnerability you were displaying, especially when you weren’t getting any sort of reaction out of him besides coldness.

“Peter. Peter, please, just l-let me fix this.” You said, voice cracking, "You’re all I have left. Please don’t do this.”

You were begging. You knew you were, but you couldn’t let him leave without putting up a fight. You were a step away from begging on your knees, but you didn’t. You were able to stop yourself from doing so, but you still believed you could get through whatever this is - you were so sure of it.

But you never did.

And you swore he had ripped your heart from your chest, stepped on it, and nonchalantly walked away, leaving you to deal with the pain of the heartbreak on the sidewalk.

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[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Together

My first Halloween request! yay! find the request post; here

Thank you for the request @suhdays​, you’re the best, I hope you like it  🥺Request; “ twinning Halloween costumes with yoongi (but it’s like something dorky, like a stapler idk alsjs) and they go to a party where everyone is like “it’s that couple again” and it’s cute and fluffy !! ”

Min Yoongi x reader Genre; Fluff, guess lil humour too because I like the funnies Warnings; Adult language and topics otherwise none Word count; 2.3k

Summary; For the first time in five years, you leave the important task of buying your couple costume to your boyfriend. This is how he turns his mistake into something you’ll always remember

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It's that time of year again; Halloween and for the first time in your life, you were not ready. You had recently started your own business so your whole life was pretty much full of meetings and interviews and paperwork and spoopy season was at the bottom of your list of priorities. Which is why you left the Halloween prep entirely to Yoongi. Admittedly, you were pretty worried at first and reluctant to allow your boyfriend to take the responsibility of the holiday into his own hands, not because you don't trust him as that's not true at all, you've always trusted Yoongi with everything in you but the fact is; Min Yoongi has always been the type to cheat his way through things that don't have his full attention and Halloween definitely fell under that category. But, the man pulled through and had the house, both interior and exterior decorated a week into October (a week later than you yourself would've had it done but that's beside the point) and had stocked up on sweets for both yourselves and the trick or treaters. So, Yoongi did well in that respect but clearly, one of the most important aspects of celebrating Halloween went straight over his head until the very last moment.

"Yoongi, what...what is this?" You questioned prodding at the plastic packaging in your hands.

"Our costumes." Was his answer from where he stood in your bedroom doorway, shuffling his weight from foot to foot knowing that you were not impressed with him.

"This isn't what we agreed on,"

"Yeah well..." He trailed off not quite knowing what to say to defend his lack of foresight in the costume buying department.

"You forgot and got these on the way home, didn't you?" Just like that, his body slumped and his lips pursed into the pout you knew meant he was going to try and cutely whine his way out of his own problem. And you hated that pout because it was so hard to say no to.

"I meant to order the other ones but kept forgetting and when I remembered I couldn't find them anywhere so I was going to make them but didn't have the time; I have the supplies under the bed so you can't say I wasn't going to! Then next thing I knew Jin caught me on the way out of work to do his yearly speech of him and Joon are going to beat us at the couple costume competition tonight and yeah...it was between those or sexy plug and socket and honestly I would rather just go in normal clothes and give hyung the prize myself than make either of us wear that sorry excuse for a costume." He was off on a rant by that point, eyebrows scrunched together and lips even poutier and so adorable you couldn't resist. Yoongi was too busy in his speech on sexy electrical costumes to even notice that you were closer until your lips were on his ceasing his spiel.

"Why are you so cute, huh?" You cooed upon pulling back far enough to look into his surprised gaze.

"Uh, not the response I expected." Was his response, earning a giggle from you. "So uhm yeah, it's still a couple costume." He murmured a little distractedly as he placed his hand over the two packaged outfits in your hand. "I'll be this one and you that."

"Okay fine, we can still win with this, right?"

"Yeah, Jin-hyung always chooses either some obscure anime characters or a pun that no-one understands, for him and Joonie."

"We got this."

*

When you arrived at the party hand in hand with Yoongi you saw Seokjin and Namjoon across the garden dressed as...something...honestly you couldn't even make a vaguely intelligent guess at what exactly the couple were supposed to me; something with beads and an obnoxious amount of purple feathers. Even though you had expected pretty much exactly that from Seokjin you still felt yourself relax the tiny amount of tension in your shoulders from the thought of not taking home the prize as you and Yoongi had for the past four years since Hoseok started hosting the annual party.

"Are you a stapler and stack of paper?" Jimin questioned as the pair of you approached the drink table where the pink-haired fairy was hanging around to talk to people; Jimin was always seen at the drinks table even if he wasn't drinking purely because he knew people would always be coming and going so he had plenty of chances to make new friends and charm the fishnet stockings off of someone for the night.

"Yes," You confirmed, not really wanting to elaborate and instead focused on pouring drinks out for you and your stack of paper partner.

"Not that you're not cute or anything because you two are the cutest couple and always will be, I voted for you before you even arrived; but like, why? Your costumes are usually really...not this."

"Because she holds me together," Yoongi replied easily as if it had always been the genuine reason for you to be the stapler to his paper that evening, not his incredible ability to forget the one thing you planned literally months ahead of time.

"That was cute, now I want to vote for you." You looked over your shoulder to find Namjoon waiting with the two men behind you, two empty plastic cups in his hands so you held your hands out in a silent offer that he accepted wit a smile. "Don't tell Jin I said that though, he'll do something petty to get back at me and I love him and all but I do not want to not get my dick sucked just because I assisted the enemy."

"Hyung is so dramatic," Jimin giggled. "I love it."

"Mm, try getting vaguely threatening messages from him for the past month in an attempt at getting us to throw the competition." Yoongi snorted.

"Ah, that's why he stopped messaging me, he found out you had to buy them!" You realised with a laugh and capped the bottle in your hand so that you could return Namjoon's then full cups to him then gather your own while Yoongi picked up his with a gentle kiss to your jaw in passing.

"He takes this way too seriously."

"What exactly are you two even supposed to be?" Jimin enquired, tilting his head curiously as he eyed the feathered male from head to toe then back again.

"I have no fucking idea." Namjoon deadpanned before nodding to the three of you and turning to return to his partner's side.

"Poor Joonie," Jimin hummed before giggling which you and Yoongi quickly joined in with. Namjoon dealt with a lot from his boyfriend and his eccentric and shameless ways but they were such a perfect match that you knew Namjoon would never even attempt to change a single thing about Seokjin. They were cute- you could admit that-, even if their Halloween costumes always sucked.

"We should go get our picture taken for the vote table," Yoongi pointed out.

"Most people here already know who you two are," Jimin laughed but you and Yoongi were already heading across the garden to the table beside the temporary stage at the bottom of the garden.

"Just in time!" Jeongguk beamed from where he was perched on his comfortable lawn chair beside the table, camera hanging around his neck ready to take portraits against the spooky backdrop just to the side for whoever wanted the service, for a fee of course. "It's almost time to close the sign up for the competitions," He got to his feet and got into position while you and Yoongi stood ready for your photo to be taken by the cape clad male; vampire again and the only reason Jeongguk had that costume in the first place was that Hoseok said he couldn't work at his party if he didn't dress up. Though the way the seams across his biceps stretched in protest you guessed Jeongguk would have to finally buy a new costume for the following year or quit the gym.

"Many people this year?" You asked once your photos were taken and the best one was being sent to the portable printer on the table to pin on the board showcasing the contestants.

"Not really for the couple one, everyone knows you two win so the only person that really tries to beat you is Jin-hyung. But the individual comp has a lot of entries. Mostly girls hoping to win a date with Hoseokie-hyung." Jeongguk informed with a giggle while pinning your photo on the couples competition board.

"Wait, what?" Yoongi replied. "Hobi is putting himself up as grand prize?"

"Didn't you see the poll he made on Twitter last week? He added a date with him as a joke but it won so he stuck with it. There's also the usual gift hamper prize too so the winner can pick what they'd prefer."

"I hope someone nice wins and Hoseokie gets a kind girlfriend out of it." You commented and they both hummed in agreement.

"Gukkie! Picture please!" Someone you couldn't recall the name of but were certain had been at Jeongguk's birthday party called so you and Yoongi left the photographer to his work and went off to mingle and talk to friends and strangers alike.

*

At midnight Hoseok got up on stage to announce the competition winners. To his own surprise, Taehyung won the individual competition; he hadn't even applied but from the way Jeongguk was hollering from the side you deduced the vampire had pinned his best friend's picture up all the same. It was a good costume; Taehyung was Van Gogh's ghost and had spent the night flitting around with body paints in his hands painting tributes to his favourite artist on the skin of whoever would let him. You yourself had the most famous starry night on your neck and Yoongi was too ticklish to allow the brushes near his sensitive skin.

"Congrats Tae!" Hoseok cooed, pushing back the crown that was slipping down his head yet again so that he could beam at Taehyung as the younger stepped up to collect his prize. "Come get the hamper before you leave tomorrow, yeah?"

"What if I want the date?" He challenged. The crowd "ooh"ed. Hoseok flailed.

"Did not take that into consideration," Yoongi admitted lowly by your side.

"Me either. Has Seok ever been into guys?"

"No, well, not that he's told me,"

"Do you think he could be?"

"I mean, it's Tae, I think everyone's at least a little gay for Tae."

"We know you are." You sniggered and he whined. "What? It's cute."

"Will you ever let me live that down? It was before we even met, babe."

"I can never forget that, babe."

Your teasing bickering distracted from the spectacle on stage long enough for Taehyung to leave with a promise from the host to talk later. Hoseok had even moved onto the couple's competition. That man sure worked fast when he wanted to remove the focus from his flushed features.

"Oh, no surprise here, Y/N and Yoongi!" He called into the microphone causing you both to look forward to the stage with wide eyes having been caught off guard. "Come on you two!" So you both waddled up onto the stage and accepted the winner badges Hoseok pinned to your costumes. "You know what to do about your prize," He joked waving you both off.

"What if we want a date with you too, huh?" You cooed. Hoseok yelled while you skittered off stage after Yoongi who could only smile fondly at your antics.

"Hey! Don't try and steal my date!" Taehyung exclaimed from beside the stage making you laugh before you fell into conversation with him and gained another masterpiece on your skin; this time on the back of your hand.

3 am the next morning you flopped into bed beside Yoongi, both freshly clean of the night's sweat and body paints. "I swear we get home later every year," Yoongi grumbled, already closing his eyes ready to greet sleep with open arms.

"That's because every year he comes up with new games to play and neither of us can so no to that shithead and he knows it." You yawned, head resting on his shoulder and leg laying over his own. He hummed in agreement. "What you said earlier to Jimin about our costumes, was that some of your spur of the moment bullshit or did you think of it when you picked them?"

"Hm? What did I say?"

"That I was the stapler and you paper because I hold you together."

"Oh, yeah, that. It's the truth, you do hold me together, always have. I don't want to even think about the mess I'd be right now if I never met you."

"Huh, maybe next year I should be superglue," You joked tilting your head to grin up at him. He felt your movement so opened his eyes to meet your gaze with a soft smile.

"And I'll be the broken toy that only you have the strength to fix."

"You're not broken."

"Not anymore, you fixed me." You lifted up just enough to press a soft, loving kiss to his lips.

"We did it together; like we do everything else. And we'll keep working like this for a long time, okay?"

"You and me together forever. Cliche but I can live with that."

"Let's get some sleep, I have a feeling we'll have Seok around tomorrow panicking that he agreed to go on a date tonight with Taehyung."

"Ugh, can't I not be here for that?" He groaned rolling over to wrap his limbs around you and bury his face into your neck making you giggle at the cute actions.

"No, we literally just talked about this, Yoonie."

"Mm," He inhaled your clean soft scent deeply before exhaling and leaning back to look at you. "Together?"

"Forever."

[eryiss]

Chapter Eleven - The End

Summary: Freed and Laxus live incredibly different lives. Freed is a corporate lawyer in the capital city, and Laxus works as a handyman in a countryside hotel. Despite their differences, their lives collide when Freed inherits a house in Laxus’ village, and hires him to make the derelict building liveable. But the closer they get, the more they seem to offer each other. [Fraxus Multi-Chapter]

This was written as my admission for Fraxus Day 2020, hosted by @fuckyeahfraxus​. Hope you enjoy it. Also, despite what the chapter name says, there is one more chapter after this. 

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. You can find the chapter masterpost here.

Chapter Eleven – The End

Freed had flaws.

It was something that he had tried to keep to himself; he was an image conscious man and, at some point in his life, he had attributed having flaws as some kind of weakness. This wasn't helped because of his career, something where image really was everything. One fumble on your words, one change in your body language, one misplaced hair and your opponent would jump on it in an attempt to delegitimise both you and your arguments. And slowly, subconsciously, Freed had convinced himself that he had no flaws.

But that was a fiction, and one that he was being forced to confront. He was emotionally repressed, and closed himself off from vulnerability or the chance of embarrassment. He had little life outside of his work, and had convinced himself he was happy like that when he wasn't. He had a superiority complex that often-alienated people and put a strain on relationships with people not willing to push back at him.

They were not comfortable realisations to have, and they had hit him hard.

However, Freed was not only made of flaws. He had many positive traits, one of which was his practicality. So when all of his flaws were pointed out to him, he did not mope for long, nor did he fall into a spiral of regret and self-loathing. Instead, he made a decision to make a change in himself, to grow out of his flaws.

It was why he was dressed like this: a black sleeveless shirt, and black jeans, with his hair tied up into a messy ponytail. Though to an outsider it wasn't a large change, it was significant for Freed. His job required a certain look, and did such a large amount of overtime that his suits were practically the only things he wore. Again, in a gradual change that Freed hadn't been aware of, his wardrobe turned into nothing but suits. It had become something like societal armour for him, a way to avoid judgment because he knew that he looked good and felt confident like that.

Laxus had mentioned that. Laxus had been the catalyst for all of this self-reflection.

He looked himself up and down in the mirror, frowning a little. The only reason he had these clothes were because, during Christmas, Bickslow had attempted to get Freed to go clubbing with him and attempted to guilt him into doing it by buying him the clothes as a gift. It was an interesting look for Freed, he wasn't sure about it.

"Well hot damn," A loud voice said from behind him, followed by a wolf whistle. Freed turned to see Bickslow standing at the door of his bedroom. "Where have you been hiding those arms? You're looking fine~"

Freed didn't say anything, glancing at his bare arms.

"Don't embarrass him," Evergreen's hushed as she walked past the doorframe, dragging Bickslow with her. Freed walked out of his bedroom, entering the open plan living room of his apartment. "You do look great though. Casual works on you."

"And I bet blondie is gonna love it," Bickslow grinned.

Again, Freed said nothing. He kept glancing at himself in any reflective surface that he could find, each time making him feel slightly more comfortable in the outfit. He shook his head slightly at the stupidity of his actions, walking to the kitchen and leaning on the counter as he checked the time on his phone. He would have to leave soon.

"What d'you think you're going to say to him?" Ever asked, sitting on the counter beside him.

"I'm not entirely sure yet," Freed admitted, leaning back and sighing. "I spent most of last night thinking about it, actually. At one point I decided to draft out what I wanted to say, which didn't help me at all. I'm hoping that seeing him will help."

"Just speak from the heart man," Bickslow smiled.

"Well, emotional vulnerability is a strength of mine," Freed let out a small chuckle as he spoke. "But that will probably be the best, won't it."

"And don't forget to grovel your ass off," Evergreen grinned.

Freed laughed slightly, but nodded. His friends had made it quite clear over the last two weeks that, the way he had left it with Laxus was stupid and unnecessary. Freed had taken issue with their claims at first, because if Laxus wanted to keep their relationship platonic then Freed felt he couldn't be near him for a while. But when Bickslow and Evergreen had said, in no uncertain terms, that Freed was just 'being pointlessly defensive like you always do when you try to be vulnerable,' it was hard to deny they had a point.

It had somewhat recontextualized their conversation at the party. For Freed, it had been a way to save face; to avoid the chance for embarrassment. But for Laxus, it probably felt like a rejection of their friendship. An end to any relationship, platonic or otherwise, between them.

Freed had felt sick when he realised that.

The memory of the realisation made his mood plummet.

"Hey, don't look like that," Bickslow smiled, patting Freed's shoulder and nudging him with his thigh. "You're new to… emotions. And being honest with your mistakes," Freed hardened his expressions by reflex at that. "But it ain't that bad, what happened. You kinda did a little bit of a fuck up, which happens. You're going to talk to him, make up for what happened, and then maybe if you're lucky you'll get some dick. Again."

Against his better judgment, a slither of a smile fell onto Freed's face.

"You're incorrigible," Freed scolded, though laughed.

"Was he good?" Evergreen asked, and Freed shook his head as he stood up. "He looks like he'd be good."

"You are both awful people," Freed said with a grin. "I'm trying to get into a headspace where I can have an emotional and heartfelt conversation with a level of vulnerability I am not comfortable with, for a man I care for very greatly. And the two of you talking about my night with the aforementioned man is not helping."

"We couldn't be more sorry," Bickslow grinned in his lie.

"Yes, you sound positively repentant," Freed muttered, pushing off from the counter and standing straight. "I should go, before it gets too late. You don't mind dealing with the trucks, do you? I'd rather not linger any longer than I have to."

"Of course," Evergreen smiled. "It's all going into storage for now, isn't it?"

Freed nodded.

"You coming back tonight?" Bickslow asked, before grinning. "Roomie."

"I suppose that'll be dependent on what happens, won't it?"

Freed walked through his front door, holding it open for his friends to walk through. Once they had, he looked into the large apartment, devoid of both furniture and evidence of life. He scanned the place he had lived for all his adult life, almost shocked by the lack of emotions he felt when he considered it would no longer be his home. Perhaps it was because it had never felt like a home, but rather a selection of rooms that he existed in when not working. Or perhaps it was because he felt that there was something better for him coming soon if luck was on his side.

But, as he flicked off the light and locked the door, he didn't care. He had other priorities today.

He took a breath before he walked in. He needed the courage.

Fairy Tail, for his time in Magnolia, had been something of a safe haven for him. Before he'd moved into the house, Fairy Tail had been where he had stayed and it had turned into a home away from home, of sorts. But now, having not been there for a while, it felt something like a fortress that he would have to conquer. A monolithic blockade that signified what he needed to do to take the next step in his life.

Because Freed knew that he had hurt Laxus; he couldn't delude himself otherwise. After Bickslow and Evergreen had explained just how stupid he had been – again, their words – he had demanded Evergreen ask Elfman about Laxus' state. Apparently he was shut off, without enthusiasm and quick to anger.

Freed was to blame for this, and the people who had dealt with the fallout were in the hotel.

After further attempts to calm his nerves, Freed walked through the front garden of the hotel and into the hotel. The bell chimed and it sent a rush of nerves into the pit of Freed's stomach. As the door closed, he was met with the sight of Cana and Mirajane. Perhaps the two people Freed hoped to see least.

There was a moment of silence, where recognition turned to icy expressions.

"Oh look who it is," Cana said, pushing up from the reception and taking a step forward. "Mr fuck 'em and leave 'em, huh. You've a lot of balls showing up here."

A slurry of comments flashed through Freed's mind, because as willing as he may be to grovel for Laxus' forgiveness, that was not something he was going to do for people who he barely knew. However, he knew that Laxus was important to these people, and it was clear that they had protective instincts over him, so he bit his tongue. Though a hint of bitterness did fill him at the way he was addressed.

"I wish to see Laxus," He said in reply, fighting the instinct to scratch at his hand. "Where is he?"

"Why?" Mirajane asked, and her tone lacked the gentleness it normally did. "Because from what I've seen, I don't think he'd want to see you."

"Has he told you that?" Freed's voice had a hint of an edge to it now. "Because if not, then perhaps it would be best if you don't speak for him and allow him to make up his own mind; I'm sure you agree."

Cana went to speak, but before she said anything the door to the office swung open and two people walked out: Makarov and Lisanna. Freed almost sighed in frustration at the sight of the older man, because, if Freed had understood the man as well as he thought, Makarov's protective instinct over Laxus was so much higher than that of his friends. And the scowl on his face suggested that Freed's assessment had been correct.

"You," He snapped, voice carrying a ferocity that Freed hadn't heard out of court. "What are you doing on my property?"

"I wish to see your grandson," Freed explained, continuing before he could stop himself. "If you can tell me where he is, I'll happily leave your property. Though given that it is a retail business I feel the need to say I have a right to be here."

"My Grandson is no business of yours," Makarov growled in his throat, stepping towards Freed. "Over the last few weeks he had become a shell of his former self. And you are entirely to blame for that."

Freed resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"And how exactly have you come to that conclusion?" Freed asked, making as good an effort to remain polite as he could. "Because, despite it not being something you may want to admit, I know your grandson very well. And knowing him, I can be sure in the fact that he has not spoken of our conversation to any of you. So perhaps you should hold your assumptions for now and allow him to make up his own mind."

"I found him crying alone. On New Year's Eve he was sat alone and in tears. Because you left him like that," Makarov grunted, taking another step forward. "You're right, he didn't tell me what happened, but I know a damn broken heart when I see it. Especially when it comes to my own grandson. And you have the audacity to come here, as if you can walk back into his life without repercussion. I should spit at you."

"Where is he?" Freed repeated, now scratching at his palm again as frustration grew.

"I can assure you that if I have anything to say about it, you will not see my grandson again and you certainly will not hurt him," Makarov snarled. "Leave, you cruel hearted bastard."

Freed felt his jaw clench at that, and his eyes flickered over the three other people in the reception. Cana was glaring at him; with an expression one might save for a murderer. Mirajane was nodding in agreement to Makarov's demand, her lips pressed into a firm line. Lisanna looked more hesitant, glancing at Makarov with a look of almost concern before her eyes flickered towards Freed. For a moment they shared eye contact, and a flash of pity crossed her features that made Freed feel a little calmer.

"Why're you still here?" Cana snapped. "Fuck off, fucking manipulative whore."

And that was the moment that Freed's patience snapped.

Because his road to self-betterment had only just started, and when insulted he favoured fight over flight.

"I have a lot of things to say to you all, but as I don't wish to waste my time on insignificant people I intend to keep this brief," Freed snapped, voice rivalling Makarov's in hostility. "You may believe that you have Laxus' best interests at heart by this little performance, but if you used so much as an ounce of thought, then you would probably conclude that he would both hate this and resent you for doing it. He is a prideful man, as well as a free-thinking adult, and having people speak for him without his permission is something I expect doubt he would abhor."

"You do not know my grandson better-" Makarov began.

"Do not interrupt me!" Freed yelled with a power that years of professional arguing had gifted him. "And do not play some saintly role, because I am more than aware of how focused you have all been on whatever relationship Laxus and myself may have had. You have strongarmed yourselves into our relationship by making comments, jokes and invasive suggestions. This protective defence you're doing is a continuation of that. A way to paint yourselves as the heroes of the story, the valiant defenders who protected the weak of the pack. But Laxus is not weak, and you really should stop treating him as such."

"Don't act like you know us," Cana scoffed. "We've barely spoken."

"And yet you act as though you know me perfectly," Freed retorted. "But you don't. You don't know me, nor the nature of what Laxus and I have had. You have made assumptions, all of which seem to be incorrect."

Freed took a sigh to calm himself. He needed to get this back onto the topic.

"When I left your grandson last, he was not crying. Had I known he would, I promise that I would not have left him," He said, voice calmer but still tainted with anger. "I will not divulge what we spoke of, as that is our business, but if you believe I simply bedded Laxus and left him then let me make it clear that I did not. I care for him greatly, and the fact that I have hurt him burns at me. But I am here in an attempt to make amends for this, something I can only do if I see him. Should he tell me to leave and never contact him, as you so clearly want, then I will respect that. But I will not take orders from strangers.

"Now, given you're so clearly invested in what happens between us, I will be clear. I intend to find him, speak to him and hopefully rekindle whatever relationship I can," Freed straightened his back, a glare on his face. "And if I may leave you with some advice for the future, when it comes to our relationship, mind your own fucking business."

He spun on his heels, and left the reception of Fairy Tail.

His pace was quick, and the anger spurred him on, adrenaline a good counter for the cold air hitting his bare arms. He stormed down the steep hill of magnolia, ears not picking up the sound of running shoes on the cobbles behind him. He was too busy focused calming his breathing.

"Freed," Lisanna's voice came from behind, and Freed glanced over his shoulder to see she was alone. "Slow down."

"Why?" He grunted.

"Because I know where he is, asshole," She snapped back, and Freed slightly slowed his pace. After catching up with him, Lisanna spoke again. "Look, don't pay too much attention to them. Getting involved in other people's business is what happens in villages. And they're a protective lot, but they don't mean any insult."

"Yes they do."

"Okay, maybe they do a bit," Lisanna admitted, sighing. "But that's not why I came out here. I wanted to say that I think it'd be good if you talked to Laxus. I know they all disagree, but I think I know you pretty well, and I don't think you'd hurt Laxus intentionally. So even if you don't manage to… fix everything, it might give you a chance to explain what happened and help cheer him up."

"That's what I'm hoping to do," Freed spoke softly.

"I know. You're nice, you just have to look hard at you to see it," Lisanna smiled, patting Freed's arm. "He's at a job right now, doing some house work. I'm sure Bob won't mind you stopping by."

After Lisanna wrote down the address of the house Laxus was working at, he thanked her and was pulled into a shockingly strong hug. He returned it, somewhat awkwardly, before letting her go and smiling at her. It was nice to know that he had an ally of sorts with her, given that he had essentially burned all bridged with all of the other people important to Laxus.

"I hope you do make it up to each other," Lisanna admitted softly. "You brought out the best of him."

"He brought out the best of me," Freed whispered, and he felt his anger dissipate slightly. The admission of Laxus' influence was invigorating and comforting at the same time.

"Then make it up with him," Lisanna said. "And be good to him."

"I will," Freed promised. "I really will."

When he saw Laxus, it made his stomach churn and flip simultaneously.

He was in a small front garden, standing with his back to Freed while trimming the wayward leaves of an overgrown tree. The wires plugged into his ears told Freed that he was listening to music, and the sight of his right leg bobbing slightly in tune to a rhythm sent a rush of relief through Freed. Getting lost in music was something that often happened when he worked on the house, and Freed was glad to see that hadn't changed.

Perhaps stupidly, Freed had convinced himself that Laxus would be a shell of his former self. It was good that he wasn't.

Approaching slowly, and steadying his breath again, Freed coughed to get his attention. It didn't work initially, so Freed waited a moment for Laxus to climb down from the small step ladder he was stood on, before tapping the blonde on the shoulder. Laxus turned, then took a startled half step back when he saw who it was. Freed smiled weakly at him as Laxus took out his headphones.

"Freed," He slightly stammered out, pupils dilated.

"Hello Laxus," Freed spoke quietly. "It's nice to see you."

"Hi," Laxus seemed almost breathless as he spoke.

They took a few moments to look one another up and down. Laxus looked the same as he had since they last saw, in most ways. He still stood tall, his clothes still clung to his large form, and his face was as handsome as it always had. But there were slight bags under his eyes, and his shoulders were drooped just a little. Freed felt a rush of guilt flow through him; he couldn't remember Laxus looking like this in their time spent together, and the change was his fault.

But he couldn't linger on that guilt for too long, because Laxus finished sizing him up at the same time Freed had with him. Their eyes met, and Freed found himself breathless as he was trapped in the blue pupils that had been haunting him.

"What are you doing here?" Laxus asked, voice more hesitant than hostile.

"I wished to speak with you," Freed explained, taking a step forward. Laxus didn't step back, and the proximity gave Freed a slight burst of confidence. "So long as that's not a problem?"

"Erm. No. No that should be, erm… That should be fine," Laxus said, looking over his shoulder to the house. "Just let me see if Bob doesn't mind me taking a bit of time off. He won't, but I need to be sure."

Freed nodded, and watched as Laxus jogged back into the house; Freed scolded himself for glancing over the vast expanse of the man's back as he retreated. Less than a minute later, Laxus returned to the garden, now wearing a leather, fur lined jacket that had become a favourite of Freed's during their time together. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of the ruffled fake-fur bordering Laxus' neck.

"You ain't cold are ya?" Laxus asked, voice awkwardly polite. It bothered Freed, but he'd expected it. "I could ask Bob for something, if you need it. I mean, you have pretty different styles, but cold is cold. Although, you seem to have changed it up a bit."

"Yes," Freed said, not missing the roaming eyes on him again. "But I'm fine, I don't need a coat."

Laxus shrugged, motioning towards the pathway that Freed had just walked down to get there. Without needing to say anything, Freed began walking down the road, Laxus keeping in step with him. Even in the awkwardness between them, Freed couldn't help but notice how easy it was to understand what Laxus was thinking without him saying anything. Freed enjoyed knowing what someone was thinking without them speaking.

"The bathroom in the house is done," Laxus said eventually, breaking the ice. "I sent you an email, don't know if you got it."

"I did," Freed nodded, thinking back to the email. The very formal email. "I didn't reply in case you didn't want to hear from me."

"Is it okay?" Laxus asked.

"I haven't been to the house yet, but I know it'll be excellent," Freed spoke with confidence, because Laxus was excellent with what he did. "You were my priority for coming here, though."

Laxus let out a small hum in response, and they fell into silence again as a chill ran over Freed's bare arms, not that he paid it any mind. It was stupid but, after their time spent apart, even walking next to Laxus in a relatively uncomfortable silence felt great. Laxus seemed to have a calming aura to him that affected Freed in a way he couldn't explain.

But, he wasn't here to indulge himself in his urge to be close to Laxus in any way the blonde allowed him to. He was here to make it up to Laxus, to hopefully make him feel a little better at worst, and perhaps propose a new relationship at best.

"I have to apologise," Freed began. "For quite a lot of things, really."

"No you don't," Laxus said, either out of instinct or politeness.

"Don't be kind about this, Laxus. It's not the moment for that," Freed spoke with a firmness in his voice. "The fact is, I've done a lot of selfish things to you, and whether intentionally or not I have hurt you. I need to make up for that, and the first step is to apologise."

When Laxus didn't say anything, Freed saw that as encouragement for him to continue.

"When I first kissed you, and the night we spent together, I did it out of selfishness," Freed began. "I know you disagreed when I said that before, but it was. I wanted you, and I prioritised that over both our friendship and any repercussions that might have come with it. It was a selfish moment born out of a lack of self-control."

"You know I wanted it as much as you did," Laxus parroted his response from their previous discussion on the matter.

"It wouldn't have happened had I not pushed it," Freed said firmly. "I also need to apologise for how we left things last time. Why I said we should take a break from each other… it was an excuse. The truth was that I'm terrified of embarrassment. I've spent most of my life avoiding situations where it might happen. And I was embarrassed after what happened, and my kneejerk reaction to that is to close off and avoid it. Which, now I say it out loud, is utterly pathetic."

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "It was fucking pathetic."

Freed was shocked that he felt no offence at that.

"You ain't apologised for it yet," Laxus continued.

"No," Freed agreed. "I am so sorry for that Laxus. Without being hyperbolic, that was the biggest mistake I have ever made, and I will regret it for the rest of my life," He sighed a little, breath fogging. "But I know that an apology isn't enough. So I want to make it clear that I'm trying to improve myself; to confront my flaws."

"Really?" Laxus said, looking ahead.

"I've contacted a therapist, with the intention of having weekly sessions with her," Freed admitted, and Laxus' gaze fell on him. "I'm hoping that she can help me with a lot of things. Both with my… issues with how I'm perceived, and other, smaller problems. Specifically with how I'm dealing with my mother's death."

"Right," Laxus said with a slight nod. "Sounds like something that'd be good for you."

Again, they didn't speak for a short while, and Freed found that they had walked into one of Magnolia's parks; he'd been too busy focused on the apology to notice where they had gone. He'd never been to the park before, he'd never had the time nor the inclination, but it was a beautiful place. A long expanse of grass, with flowerbeds decorating the edges. And near the entrance was a large pond, with Lilypad's floating atop the surface and benches surrounding it.

"I've quit my job," Freed said as they walked along the path. Laxus stopped where he stood.

"What the fuck?"

"I've left my job," Freed repeated. "It was overdue."

"You loved your job," Laxus frowned, voice confused. "You said it was the biggest part of your life. You just fuckin' quit it?"

"It's a fairly clear summary of my life, isn't it? That the biggest part of my life was something that I grew to hate," He chuckled out loud. "I'm selling my apartment as well. Something else that I should have done a while ago."

"The fuck are you- Why are you-" Laxus stammered slightly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're the catalyst for this. I've been playing at life for a while, doing what I thought I was meant to for years now. I got the job I was told to get. I got the apartment I want meant to strive for. But, I wasn't happy, and I didn't realise it until I came here. Until I met you. You've made me a better man, and I want you to know how important you are to me," Freed admitted, before frowning. "And this isn't a form of guilt tripping. I'm not trying to make you feel obligated to forgive me for what I did. These are all things that I should have done years ago, for myself. I just want you to know how better I am for having met you."

"You know where you're gonna live?" Laxus asked. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Freed felt he heard a slight glimmer of hope in Laxus' tone.

"Bickslow's apartment, for now," Freed explained. "In terms of future plans, there's a lot of things to think about."

"Is one of those things the topic you've been avoiding?" Laxus asked. "What the next steps are for the two of us."

"That is a large thing to consider," Freed agreed.

"Guess so," Laxus nodded. He tilted his head to the nearest bench that bordered the pond. "Sit."

Freed did as he was told, and sat on the bench. When Laxus sat beside him, a chill went through his spine as he felt Laxus' thigh rest against his and remain there. He tried not to let a glimmer of hope bloom through him, but a small smile did flicker into his features before he schooled it off. Hopefully Laxus didn't notice.

"You can tell yer a lawyer," Laxus continued. "I come up with a list of reasons why we shouldn't be together, and you address them all."

"Sorry," Freed said with a small smile. "Winning arguments its hardwired into me."

"Yeah, realised that," Laxus chuckled a little, before turning serious again and looking at Freed. "Freed, all this stuff your doing is great, and I'm sure it'll help you become a better and happier person. But things like therapy, they take time. It's not like you'll go into a session and be the best version of yourself by the end of it. And if you're looking for a new job and you've just moved out… I don't think it's the best time for us to start anything."

His heart leapt slightly at the idea that Laxus was even considering starting something with him. But he didn't let his excitement show, instead nodding slightly.

"If you're not ready, or if you just don't want to-"

"I want to Freed, I really want to," Laxus said firmly, and Freed couldn't fight the smile. "I've wanted to be with you since I first met you. But if we start – when we start – then we only got one chance at it. Because I feel really strongly about you, and I'm worried if we fuck it up it'll turn to hatred. And I can't hate you. I don't wanna hate you."

"I don't want to hate you either."

Again, silence fell between them. And Freed understood what Laxus was saying, because he too had such strong feelings for Laxus. At that moment those feelings were fondness, adoration, friendship and potentially love. But if they messed up, if their relationship was bad and it grew resentment between them both, then all the passion he felt for the man could be twisted into anger and disgust. That was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

"What if we wait a month," Laxus eventually said.

"What?" Freed asked.

"A month. In exactly a month's time, we see how we're both doing. If we're in a better place than we are now, and if we both think it's time then we go on a date and see what happens," Laxus had a sense of purpose in his voice. An authority. "That okay?"

"Yes," Freed said without hesitation. "But, what if we're not ready by next month?"

"Then we wait another month. Or however long it takes," Laxus claimed, and it was perhaps the most romantic thing Freed had heard. "You think you can do that?"

"Without a doubt," Freed promised. "The truth of the matter is, Laxus, that I would do anything to keep you in my life."

And then a beautiful thing happened. Freed was given the angelic sight of Laxus' lips contorting into a mischievous, wide grin. His eyes sparkled with a childish, competitive glee. Laxus had clearly seen Freed's promise as some sort of challenge and, as he had done with every perceived challenge between the two of them, had decided he would take Freed up on the challenge. It was incredible to see, and Freed felt as though, in that look, he had been forgiven.

"Anything huh?" He said with a grin in his tone. "Because, y'know, when we do go on a date I get to pick what we do. And I'm pretty sure I wanna get some petty revenge on ya. That okay?"

"Depends on what the date is, I suppose," Freed mused, smirking, "But I doubt you'll think of something I'd refuse."

"Even if I make you dress up as a medieval jester, have you shout crappy limericks in the high street all day while I get people to throw rotten eggs and tomatoes at ya."

"I would do that," Freed nodded. "I'd be confused about why you'd want me to do that, because that is both a very odd and very specific threat. But yes, if that is what you want then I would do it."

"Thought you didn't like getting embarrassed," Laxus teased.

"For you, I don't mind," Freed smiled. "I'm just sorry that it took me this long to realise it."

"Enough apologising, it doesn't suit you," Laxus laughed.

"Fair," Freed grinned, before his mind went back slightly. "Where on earth did the idea of dressing me up as a jester, having me shout limericks and throwing eggs at me come from?"

"Ah, Mirajane was acting like I was some heartbroken teenager and kept trying to cheer me up," Laxus laughed. "In the end it was either going to the spa with her and her sister, or watching a crappy TV Movie while eating ice cream. After the villain of the movie lost his money, he had to advertise a crappy medieval restaurant and that's what ended up happening to him. Thought it suited you."

"You think I deserve the same fate as a TV movie villain?" Freed chuckled. "Is that what you see me as, a villain?"

"Fuck yeah I do," Laxus grinned. "But I think villains are hot, so don't feel bad."

"I consider it a compliment," Freed laughed, before groaning. Laxus frowned at him. "On the topic of me being a villain, it is entirely possible that I offended basically everyone important to you before I found you."

"How the fuck did you do that?" Laxus cackled.

"I may have ranted at them for a while, and told them to mind their own fucking business."

"For fucks sake," Laxus laughed. "You really don't make things easy for yourself, do ya?"

Freed just laughed, and as he did he felt his head rest against Laxus' by accident. He opened his eyes to see that their foreheads were resting against each other. Their laughter died, and Freed felt his pace increase again. His heart hammered heavily in his chest, and he could feel a buzzing anticipation flow through him.

It was a similar sensation to when he had kissed Laxus in the car. Anticipation grew and grew, as if whatever happened next was inevitable. A rush of adrenaline pushed him forward slightly, and he was so incredibly aware of how Laxus' roaming eyes were flicking between his eyes and his lips.

They were going to kiss.

And, somehow, he knew it would be better this time. Because this wasn't a mistake, this wasn't Freed giving into his urges against his better judgment. This was something that he and Laxus wanted, and perhaps they were owed at this point.

But Laxus' reasoning for not starting a relationship rushed back to his mind, and stopped him from moving forward.

"Laxus," He whispered. "I though you wanted to wait until we started dating."

"I do," Laxus whispered back. "But I also wanna kiss you so fucking bad right now. And you got a poorly timed kiss, it's my turn."

In that moment, there was no doubt in Freed's mind that he and Laxus were meant to be together.

And then, Laxus took Freed into a beautiful, passionate, incredible kiss. It was everything.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone -Chapter 13

Title: Confrontations

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @tragiclyhip​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​

“How big does my ass look in this?”

It’s the age old question: does this outfit make me look fat? Men for centuries have been making the mistake of actually answering; aware that it’s a trap but freezing up in the moment and choosing a response instead of just a vow of silence. It’s a slippery slope. Answer honestly and find yourself banished to the couch for six months to a year, tell a very obvious lie and find your sex life become barren and obsolete for the rest of your natural born life, or say the honest to goodness truth yet have it taken as bullshit and never get to sleep in the matriomonial bed again. Tyler considers himself one of the lucky few. The question isn’t posed often and when it is, she knows he speaks the truth; believing his words and accepting the compliment and having her whole day run smoothly and happily because he’d taken mere seconds to say something nice. He’s never seen her in the negative light she often paints herself in; the extra pounds and the stretch marks, the wrinkles by the corners of her eyes and the strands of gray in her hair. It all makes her who she is; hips wider because she’s given birth to HIS children, the lines by her eyes only showing when she’s smiling and adding something even extra adorable to the mix, those silvery strands in her dark dresses sparkling in the light and making her even more attractive.

Maybe she ISN'T the same person she was twelve and a half years ago. The tiny, incredibly fit and toned little thing that had shown up on his doorstep; tattooed and pierced and full of confidence and swagger for someone so small and seemingly fragile. Walking in there like she owned the place and not even batting an eyelash at the crude and rustic living conditions or the amount of booze littering countertops and almost every open space or even the countless bottles of OxyContin sitting on the kitchen table. She hadn’t even been put off by his initial less than hospitable welcome. Ignoring both his grumpy mood and his leeriness at having a stranger in his space and serving up that beautiful, bright smile; offering an impossible small, soft hand that had been engulfed by his.

If he’s totally honest with himself, it was then that he knew shit was about to change. The way she didn’t shy away from prolonged eye contact and how their hands remained clasped a little longer than normal. When Nik had left them alone to begin the ‘getting to know your fake spouse’ process, she hadn’t been easily intimidated by either his size or his gruff nature. Laughing at his off handed remarks and not seeming the least bit nervous or awkward when he offered her a drink; downing it quicker than he’d ever seen a woman do before and not refusing when he poured her another. He’d learned in those few minutes just how deceiving looks can actually be; assuming by her petite stature and that fresh faced, ‘girl next door’ look that she was way too pure and innocent to be caught up in a world like his. What in the hell would a woman like THAT being doing getting herself mixed up in the job? Someone with so much light still remaining in their eyes; happy and bubbly despite the fucked up situation they’re so willingly throwing themselves into. He’d never come across that in the past few years as a merc; someone who hadn’t been traumatized by the things they’ve seen, heard, or done. And it had been a breath of fresh air; liking the sound of that tiny little voice and the beautiful smile and the way she’d so intently watch him and cock her head to the side while listening to him talk.

She’d been different than anyone he’d ever met. Even outside of the job. A mere thirty minutes more than enough to discover that she wasn’t a push over; feisty and headstrong as opposed to meek and mild. And that’s what he’d been the most attracted to. The fact she hadn’t been turned off by him or her surroundings in the slightest; not afraid to engage him in conversation and push him -in a very smooth and effortless way- to keep up with her. Finding himself talking more to her half an hour than he’d spoken to anyone in the past few years. His instincts had been on high alert; assuring him that she was trustworthy and accepting and that her queries and curiosity were her being genuinely interested in him, not looking for things to judge him on. And when she’d left he’d actually found himself feeling happier and lighter than he had in a hell of a long time. Anxious about seeing her again.

That had been the first moment of fear; the anticipation of once more coming face to face with her and getting to know more about her. Even an hour ago, he wouldn’t have given a shit; if a strange woman had been dropped at his feet, he wouldn’t have even bothered to feign interest and would have quickly dismissed them. But there’d been something about that cute little brunette. Those dark, soulful eyes and that sweet smile and that tiny voice. The way she’d looked at him when they’d first been introduced and how her palm had felt against his. It had been years since he’d felt any stirring of feeling towards someone else; convinced he was dead inside and that he’d live the rest of his life -if he wasn’t lucky enough to catch a bullet or drink himself to death- miserable and alone in that dusty little shack. Convinced that he was too much of a mess for anyone to take a chance on; an alcoholic hired gun with a checkered and fucked up past and pain killer addiction. Who in their right mind would want to take on someone like that? And did such a person even exist? Strong enough to deal with his shit and help him through it, yet compassionate and understanding enough not to judge him and condemn him for it?

He’d actually gone into the whole ‘fake marriage’ thing with cautious optimism. Staying completely sober for the twenty four hours until he saw her again; cleaning himself up and wearing proper clothes and suddenly feeling more confident and secure than he had in a hell of a long time. But it had all happened too fast, too soon; the feelings way too much to cope with and the fear of being a disappointment and a failure leading him to push her away that night at the hotel outside of Dhaka. He’d wanted to be with her; shocked by the amount of both sexual and emotional attraction he was experiencing towards her. He’’d come so close; mere seconds away from kissing her and giving in to unbridled lust and accepting her invitation to spend the night in her room. And it had been that same fear and worry that had caused him to react so badly on the job; grabbing her by the throat in an attempt to scare her away instead of having his heart broken when she could no longer put up with his shit and walked away.

It had been a complete and utter failure, of course. She hadn’t been the less bit scared. That had been an even bigger turn on; knowing how much she could actually take and just how strong she really was. And he’d known afterwards -both arms wrapped tightly and securely around her and her resting on his chest as she napped- that there was no chance of walking away. That no matter how bad the worry and the fear got, he wouldn’t be capable of letting her go. It wasn’t love. It was way too soon for that; it’s impossible to feel something so deep and profound THAT quickly. But he’d known he was well on his way to BEING in love with her. If he was lucky enough to live that long and get that chance.

Now, twelve and a half years later, he glances up from where he’s crouched in the front foyer, attempting to get the three littlest bundled into their winter gear. It’s an adventure to say the least; the climbing into snowsuits and boots and the constant search for hats and mittens that match. And it never fails; getting them completely ready and one -or more- announcing they need to use the bathroom. It’s happened twice already; Takota and Addie deciding they need to go and can’t wait until they get to their lunch destination. Brooklyn the lone holdout; smart enough to go BEFORE preparations to leave began.

“Be honest,” Esme says, as she stands at the bottom landing; a hand on the railing as she turns both sideways and backwards, enabling him to get a look at the ‘object’ in question.

She’s not clad in her normal every day attire; baggy sweatpants and oversized t-shirt replaced by a pair of black leggings and a charcoal gray sweater dress cinched tightly at the waist by a wide, plain black belt. Just hint of make up graces her face; nothing more than eyeliner and mascara and a tint of blush. Sides of her hair pulled back, the braided section hanging over top the remaining tresses. And when he pauses a tad too long in answering, a frown replaces the almost nervous smile. “That bad?”

“Not bad at all. I was just thinking how nice you look. Not that you don’t look nice all the time. Just you look different. In a nice way.”

“You look beautiful mumma,” Takota praises, as a knit beanie is pulled down onto his head and mittens tugged on his hands. “You’re pretty always, but you’re beautiful NOW.”

“You are the sweetest little muffin ever,” Esme declares, as steps off the landing and takes his face in her hands; pressing a kiss to each chubby cheek and then his lips. “And daddy is teaching you VERY well.”

“Gotta start ‘em young,” Tyler reasons, then reaches for the handle on the front door. “Out. Before you start sweating. Or have to go to the bathroom again.”

“My feet are already sweaty,” Addie complains, as she yanks a purple and pink striped beanie down over her forehead. “I don’t like sweaty feet. I don’t like boots. Or shoes.”

“I feel your pain.” He pulls the zipper of her coat up to her chin. “Outside. Tell TJ and Millie I’ll be out in a second. No going outside the gate.”

“It’s scary outside the gate,” Brooklyn says, as she falls in line behind her siblings as they stomp out the door and onto the front porch. “Too many cars. And noise. And people. I don’t like people.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Esme remarks as playfully pulls her husband’s hat down over his eyes, then gives his shoulders a tight squeeze. “I wonder where she gets THAT from?”

He fixes the beanie; pushing it back off his forehead and then tending to the laces on his boots. “Why do you blame me for everything? The way they bitch and moan about the cold, the way they hate socks and shoes, this pout that they supposedly all have.”

“There’s nothing supposed about it. They all have the pout. Which they inherited from YOU.”

He shoots her a scowl over his shoulder. “I don’t pout.”

“Like shit you don’t. You DO pout. And I have more than one piece of photographic evidence, thank you very much.”

“I don’t care what any of those photos say. That is not a pout.” He grimaces as he stands, the tightness -and accompanying gnawing pain- in the knee and back a little more intense than usual. “It’s a frown.”

“It’s a pout. A very vicious one. One that says you might bite someone’s head off if they get too close.”

“It’s not a frown then, is it. If it’s mean. Pouts aren’t mean. Pouts are sad. I’m not sad if I’m wanting to bite someone’s head off.”

“We are going to have to agree to disagree on this,” she says, and smoothes down the front of his front of Henley style shirt before reaching for the zipper on his jacket.

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as she tends to him. It’s something he’s gotten used to over the years; her need to provide even the simplest level of care for the people that she loves. It’s the motherly instinct that runs strongly through her veins; unable to turn off the need to help and nurture, even when it comes to him.

“You know, I DO know how to do this stuff for myself.”

“I know,” she chirps, and then stands on her tiptoes to pull his beanie down further. “But I like doing it. I like taking care of you. You think you’d be used to it by now. I’ve only been annoying the shit out of you with it for the past twelve and half years. Your back’s sore?”

“And my knee.”

“Maybe when we get home you should call and get them looked at it. Better to be safe than sorry. They’ve been acting up pretty bad lately.”

“Just the cold weather. Nothing serious. You need to stop worrying so much.”

She stares pointedly up at him.

“I know. You can’t help it. But can you tone it down just a bit? I’m fine. It’s the weather. It makes the arthritis act up. Just like the surgeon said it would.”

“You realize we don’t have to come here for Christmas, right? We could save this place for getting away during warmer weather. We do NOT have to come during the winter.”

“The kids like coming here; the whole white Christmas thing. And so do you. I can deal with it. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“But you shouldn’t have to just ‘deal with it’. Your comfort is important to me, too. The kids and I would cope. With Christmas in Australia. It’s no big deal. If it’s that painful…”

“It’s not. It just acts up from time to time. More uncomfortable than actual pain. You’d know if I was in pain, trust me.”

“And you’re taking meds? You’re not trying to go without?:

“I am taking them the exact way they’re supposed to be taken. Take it down a notch, okay? I know you worry. I know you want to take care of me. And believe, I love you very much for that. But you also drive me a little fucking insane.”

“I happen to love you, you enormously stubborn pain in my ass. And if you’re that uncomfortable and it’s only getting worse…”

“Stop,” he gently orders, taking her face in both of hands and pressing a kiss to her lips. “And by the way, speaking of your ass…” Placing his hands on his shoulders, he runs them slowly down her arms. Fingertips drifting over the curves of her wrist and over the top of her hand; palms briefly settling on her hands before travelling to her butt. “...it looks fucking amazing in that outfit. And I think you should wear it more.”

She grins. “What happened to wanting me to wear yoga pants all the time?”

“Oh, those are still my favourite. But I’m okay if you wear this too.”

“Just for you, I’ll add it to my steady rotation of clothes. I’d hate to deprive you of any quality ass watching time.”

“You spoil me.” As he leans down to kiss her, she perches herself on her tiptoes and wraps both arms around his neck. Eagerly responding at first, then giggling when he brings his palms against the cheeks of her ass in sound, stinging smacks before aggressively pinching. “You do look beautiful, by the way. I mean, you always do, but…”

“Extra beautiful?”

“Very,” he confirms, and kisses her once more; longer and deeper, hands slipping from her ass in order to softly glide up and down her back. “Think I should lock the door? So we can have a quickie right here?”

“As tempted as I am, that’s definitely NOT a good idea. You’re going to have to be patient and wait for later. When everyone’s in bed."

“No sneaking into the pantry or the guest bathroom? These are some pretty shitty wifing skills on your part.”

“Just the most horrible wife ever. In the history of marriage. You poor, poor man. I am sorry you have go one day with getting one blow job instead of two.”

“That’s ground for divorce,” he teases.

“I’ve been way too good to you over the course of the last five years. You’ve come to expect these things. You don’t see me expecting to be woken up the same way every morning.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been waking you up the same way every day for nearly six years. You can’t tell me you don’t expect it. That you wouldn’t miss it if it suddenly stopped.”

“I would be extremely disappointed, actually. But seeing as you like doing it just as much as I like being on the receiving end, I know it won’t stop any time soon. I WILL make it up to you. You have my word. And I’m good on my word.”

“I have to admit, you haven’t disappointed me yet. Promise me that you’ll spoil yourself today? That you won’t buy me or the kids all kinds of shit we won’t need? I know what you’re like. I know you always plan on buying things for yourself and never do. Don’t piss me off. Don’t make me put you through a dry spell.”

“I promise that I will only spoil myself. Although I don’t see why I should bother. You do a good enough job. You’re the king of needless spoiling.”

“I spoil you because you deserve it. And because it makes me happy. That I can’t buy you shit just for the sake of buying it. Humour me, okay? Let me make up for all the times we barely had money for food and I had no idea how I was going to pay rent from month to the next.”

“Which was none of your fault,” she reminds him. “You almost died. You were in inpatient for two months. And even after you got home, you weren’t exactly well enough to work. Stop blaming yourself. It was way beyond your control. And we did fine. We managed. We didn’t have much but we were happy. All that mattered to me was that you were alive and we were together. And that our baby girl was healthy. Nothing else mattered.”

“I just like being able to give you things. Not because you need them or even necessarily want them. Just because. So shut up and let me do it, yeah? Let me spoil my wife.”

“I have a feeling this is an argument I will never win.”

“You know what? I will gladly die on this hill.”

“Speaking of hills to die on, you’ve picked a pretty big one. Taking all seven plus Alannah out at once? That takes some balls, babe. That’s some serious superhero shit. And you say you’re not brave?”

“Out of curiosity, which kids are your favorites? Because I can’t promise all seven of them will make it back. And seeing as there’s no sharks to offer sacrifices to, looks like I’m feeding them to the subway trolls.”

“You’ll be just fine. You’ve done this before; taking all the kids out at once. And you lived to tell about it. You have some serious cajones, honey. No one can ever convince me otherwise.”

“You think way too highly of me. I better go. Before someone DOES have to go to the bathroom. And if I have go through that one more time…”

“You are a brave, brave man, Tyler Rake. I don’t want to ever hear you say any different. I’d say have a good time, but we’re talking about seven kids plus an extra, so…”

“Just keep your fingers crossed my sanity stays intact. Or what’s left of it anyway.” Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into one final kiss; her tiny frame once more perched on her tiptoes as she leans into him. It’s become their ‘thing’; never leave the home without a hug and a kiss and telling the other how you feel about them. Life is just too short and unpredictable; the incident five years ago reminding them just how quickly everything can change and be snatched away from you. And he pulls her close; a forearm along the small of her back and his lips against her temple. “I love you.”

Giving his neck a final squeeze, she runs her fingernails along the nape and then brushes her lips against his cheek. “I love you. Be good. No feeding any of the children to the subway trolls. I happen to quite like all of them.”

“I’m not making any promises. Remember what I said; about spoiling yourself. And about something sexy.”

“I still think I should get a hint. About your plans for after Ovi’s wedding.”

“I told you. It’s a surprise.” He reaches for the handle on the door. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yeah…” she smiles, shooting him a wink as he steps out onto the snow covered porch. “...you will.”

*****

Even a simple two block walk is an adventure with eight kids in tow. The oldest leading the pack while the stragglers and the littlest ones follow; tiny legs finding it easier to navigate unshoveled sidewalks when they have much larger footprints to step into. For the most part they are an amicable and well behaved group. Millie and Alannah with their locked arms and their high pitched giggles and seemingly endless chattering, TJ with a protective slung across Tanner’s shoulders and always ready and willing to help him to either climb over snow covered curbs or carrying him entirely. Declan and Brooklyn are the ‘wild ones’; sandwiched in the middle of the group to avoid them running too far ahead and kept in line by a stern Millie threatening to clothesline them if they dare jump into the puddles of slush. Takota and Addie are the slow pokes; tiny bodies weighed down by heavy boots and layers of clothes, always stopping every few feet to make footprints in the higher banks or to ball up snow and toss it at each other. And while the frequent stops and the repetitive -yet calm and patient- requests to just ‘get a move on’ would likely be annoying to most parents, Tyler relishes in every second he gets to spend with his kids; knowing how quick everything can be snatched away and your life altered forever. Nothing makes him smile like the sight of those little faces turned up towards the sky; eyes closed and their noses scrunched up as they try to catch snowflakes on their tongues. And there’s no sound more beautiful than those shrieks and giggles; unleashed when he picks both of them up and tosses them into snowbanks. In the end the journey and the deeper areas of snow defeats tiny legs and he resorts to carrying them; one in each arm as they tightly cling to his neck.

They’re shown to a booth at the back of the restaurant; upholstered in red leather and large enough to fit parties of their size. It’s chaos getting everyone undressed; arms flailing as jackets are yanked off and the straps of snow pants pushed down, littles complaining about their feet being sweaty and not thinking twice of kicking their boots off, hats and mitts having to be fetched when they slip out of sleeves and hoods and have to be fetched from under the table. They’ve eaten in the establishment enough to be seen as regulars. The havoc and noise going on unacknowledged by staff and fellow diners; the occasional sympathetic or amused smile being tossed in their direction, a handful of compliments revolving aroundt how cute the kids are and their ‘charming’ accents, praises on how well he’s handling such a large ‘brood’ and how brave he is for taking them all out at once. Even a comment about how not seeing many ‘male’ nannies even in this day and age.

“He’s not our nanny.” Brooklyn is quick to speak up. Never backing down from what she considers something ridiculous or rude. “It’s our dad. We’re all related. Except for her…” she jerks her head in Alannah’s direction. “..but she might as well be. We love her like she’s one of us. And she likes our house better. It’s more fun. Her parents are assholes.”

“Language,” Tyler admonishes, and lays a hand on the back of her head and gently pushes her in the direction of the booth. “And you don’t have to tell everyone our business.”

“It’s totally obvious you’re not our nanny. We all look alike. Well, maybe not Declan. He’s the odd duck.”

“Hey!” Declan objects from his place between Millie and TJ. “I look like grandma Adeline. Which was dad’s mom. So that means I look like dad. Just a red headed version. I still look like him though.”

“You don’t even have blue eyes,” Brooklyn argues, as she slides onto the bench and wriggles her way across. “You don’t look like daddy at all. Well, maybe his nose. And his ears.”

“I don’t have blue eyes either,” Addie pipes up, as she’s helped out of her coat and shoves her hat and mittens into the sleeves. “Yet daddy is my daddy. I don’t look like him at all.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re adopted,” Declan says.

“I am not! I look like mommy! Daddy says so. That I look just like her. That if mommy got put into a shrinking machine, you’d get me. That’s what you said, right daddy? That I look like a tiny version of mommy.”

“You look just like her,” he confirms, and slides the straps of her snow pants down her arms. “A little version. Her mini me.”

“Like TJ is yours, right? Only TJ isn’t so little. He’s tall and big. I’m short and wee. Why am I short and wee? Why can’t I be tall like you guys?”

“All the good genes ran out,” Millie explains. “By the time mom and dad got to you, there was nothing good left. You got the spare stuff.”

“You’re full of shit,” Addie counters, then smiles sheepishly up at her father. “Sorry. Language. I know, I know. But sometimes it just slips out. You’re a bad influence.”

Grinning, he removes the elastic from her lopsided ponytail and uses his fingers to comb through the messy dark tresses. “You’re going to throw me under the bus, are you?”

“You swear all the time. Especially in the car. When people don’t use their blinkers or they drive too slow in the fast lane.”

“Or if people come too close to us when we’re in the crosswalk,” TJ adds. “Remember last year? When we were going to see mom at the store? When someone was going to run the light when we were crossing? Dad put his foot right through their front grill.”

“And said a whole lot of bad words,” Declan adds. “For everyone to hear.”

“For the record…” he gathers Addie’s hair in both hands and resets the ponytail. “...it could have been worse. I could have put my foot through his face.”

“I would have paid to have seen that,” TJ declares. “I’m almost eleven and I still haven’t seen you mess anyone up. I feel robbed.”

“I’d like to see him hand someone their ass,” Millie says. “I’ve just heard stories. I want to see it with my own two eyes.”

“You should totally beat the crap out Jacobi,” Declan chimes in. “He totally has a crush on mum. That’s not right. That’s someone else's wife. You don’t mess with someone else’s wife. Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Especially OUR mom,” Tanner adds, as he rummages through his backpack for his weighted lap pad and noise cancelling headphones. “Has he not seen our dad? Like, hello! He’s ginormous. And he looks scary too. All the tattoos and stuff? And he has a scary voice.”

“He only looks scary when he’s mad. And his voice is only scary when he yells,” Brooklyn contributes. “His normal voice isn’t scary. It’s just deep. Like Darth Vader. And mommy’s voice sounds like a little elf. It’s a really weird combo. But you should, daddy. Beat up, Jacobi. He tries to get cozy with mommy. The other day while you were away, he brought her a caramel macchiato from Starbucks. A venti. Do you know how much those things cost? He must be in love with her. You should for sure punch him in the face. At least once. Twice if you want him to stay down.”

“Listen pipsqueak, I don’t need your advice on how to knock someone out. And no one is beating anyone up. Jacobi’s a kid. He has a crush. That’s it.”

“Naw, it’s totally love,” Declan argues. “No one with just a crush buys you Starbucks. Dunkin’ Donuts, maybe. Not the expensive stuff.”

“You all need to relax.” Sliding into the booth, he reaches for Addie and places her on his lap. She and Brooklyn have their own calendar they’ve created; keeping a very accurate and detailed log on the dates and times each got to sit with daddy in order to determine whose turn it is and avoid arguments. “I don’t think your mom has a thing for Jacobi. I don’t think you have to worry about him ever becoming your step dad.”

“Desi might,” Takota pipes up. “He likes mummy. They always spend a lot of time together.”

“That’s mum’s best friend,” TJ informs his littlest brother. “He’s like an older brother to her. She IS not going to leave dad for Desi. She’s not going to leave dad for anyone. He’d have to be the one to screw up and leave.”

“No one is leaving anyone for someone else. You guys are too much. Just decide what you want, okay? You’re giving me more gray hair here. Let’s play the quiet game. Everyone look at your menu and pick something. And don’t talk while doing it.”

“The quiet game doesn’t work,” Tanner says, and pulls a stuffed koala from his backpack and hands it across the table to Addie. “You almost forgot Fredrick at home.”

“You’re the best, Tanny! Thank you!” She rubs her cheek against the toy’s faded and tattered ‘fur’ and then snuggles him tight to her chest.

Frederick has seen his fair share of adventures; being carted all over Australia and Colorado by a much smaller and younger Millie, and his ‘koala napping’ in Mumbai five years ago. If he thinks long and hard enough about it, Tyler can still remember the terror of that initial night; the bedroom window open and an infant Addie screaming from the discomfort of the cool air. His instincts had immediately told him to fear the worst. That it wasn’t something as innocent and simple as one of Anil’s workers opening the window and forgetting to close it. And when that bear had shown up on the doorstep of the safe house in Dhaka, his worst nightmare had been in danger of coming true. Someone with a score to settle had gotten close enough to his daughter to potentially take her right from her bed; having to reach over her and likely coming in contact with her body. In all his years on the job and as many times as his own life had been in danger, he’d never felt fear quite like that. That chill of terror that seems to take over your entire body and settle into your bones. There was always a chance of someone tracking him down out of the need for revenge; a worry that his kids could be made a target as a way of breaking him. But that was the closest anyone had ever gotten.

He’d vowed to never let that happen again. And to kill anyone that posed even the slightest bit of threat.

The silence that ensues is a welcome change; a waitress bringing coffee for him and glasses of chocolate milk for the kids and then taking their orders. TJ, Declan and Tanner watching youtube videos on the latter’s Ipad while Millie and Alannah whisper and giggle at the Instagram posts they scroll through on Alannah’s phone. The littlest busy themselves with the baskets of crayons that the restaurant had provided; scribbling and doodling on the craft paper that covers the table. All in all, they’re good kids; polite and always minding their manners, careful not to make too much noise that will bother others around them, saving the majority of their arguments and insults for the street or at home. It can’t get wild; seven little humans all talking at once and vying for attention. Christmas morning is far the most chaotic; a living room full of presents and excited chattering and squeals of joy and excitement. It’s enough to take the sting out of the memories of his past. Seeing those cute faces light up and the tears of pure happiness over receiving a much sought after item and feeling those little arms wrap around your neck and the lips that press to your cheek; those tiny voices saying thank you and telling you how much they love you.

*****

“Daddy?” Addie breaks the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Will you please help me? Will you draw a kangaroo for me? I don’t know how.”

Selecting a crayon from the basket in the middle of the table, he tends to his daughter’s request. He’d discovered at a young age that not only COULD he draw, but that he was exceptionally good at it; his mother nurturing and feeding the talent and always encouraging him by buying his pencils and sketchbooks and constantly praising his work. It was something he had enjoyed just as much as surfing or spending time outdoors, but had quickly learned to keep a secret from his father. The old man had viewed anything even remotely related to the arts as ‘girly’ and ‘pathetic’; preferring his son to pick up more manly pursuits and drilling it into his head that a ‘real man’ didn’t create. After his mom had died, his father had gone through his room and not only trashed every piece of art tapped to the wall, but burnt every sketch book and pencil in the fire pit in the backyard.

He hadn’t picked up a pencil since. Until Millie had started showing a very keen eye and skilled hand and had asked for an area in the house to be turned into her own little studio. A loft added above the new garage; a place filled with paints and pencils and easels and canvases and anything else that she could possibly need. And spending time with her in that studio and nurturing and encouraging her talent had been a way of rediscovering his own. Using it as a form of escape and relaxation when life gets too hectic and stressful or his mental health feels as if it’s spiralling out of control.

“Daddy?”

“Addie?”

“If mummy didn’t do the same job as you a long time ago, how else would you have met her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she would have come to Australia. Maybe we would have met that way. On the beach or something.”

“Would you have still liked her? If you met her that way?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She still would have been mummy. She still would have been the same person.”

“Do you think she would have liked you? If she met you a different way?”

“I think so. I hope she would have.”

“What would you have done? If you didn’t do that job?”

He shrugs. “Maybe I would have stayed in the military. Or become a fireman. Or done construction. Or built houses. Something where I could stay busy and use my hands.”

“I think you would have been a good policeman. You would have been really good at catching bad guys. I mean, that’s what you were doing in the first place. Just you weren’t a policeman. What do you think mummy would have done? If she had a different job?”

“I’m not sure. I think she would have made a really good teacher. Or a nurse.”

“Like Auntie Riley and Auntie Shaena?”

“Yup. Just like him. She’d probably work with kids though. I think your mum is meant to be around kids.”

“I think so too. She’s a really good mummy. She always plays with us and she even does dress up and makes up different names and voices for all my dolls. She’s never too busy; to have fun with us. And she gives really good cuddles and kisses too.”

“She’s an awesome mum. I definitely picked a good one to have kids with.”

“So did mummy. You guys make a good team. And you make cute kids.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her temple. “Really, really, REALLY cute kids.”

“I bet she would have still liked you. If she met you a different way. I mean, you still would have been daddy. You still would have looked the same. You still would have had nice muscles.”

“Is that what mummy says she likes the best?”

“She says it’s third on her list.”

“What’s number one and two?”

“Your eyes and your smile. Your voice is number four and your butt is number five.”

“She didn’t say anything about my hands? That’s weird. For your mom.”

“Your hands were number six. And your forearms were number seven. I don’t understand that one. Mum says it’s hard to explain. Why she likes them so much. She said when she first met you, she was attracted to your face. That you had a kind of a sad face. In a beautiful way.”

“She said that?”

“Yep. She said that you had kind eyes. And that she liked how they crinkled when you smiled. That you smiled at her and you made your insides go all funny. What does that mean?”

He chuckles. “It’s nothing you need to know until you’re older. What else did she say?”

“Just that you were really good looking and she liked your haircut and your beard. And that you shared the house with a chicken. Is that true?”

“It is. I did have a chicken in the house.”

“Can we have a house chicken? When we get home can we get one?”

“No. Chickens stay outside now. No chickens in the house. They poop too much.”

“Not even if I let the chicken stay in my room?”

“Not even then. Sorry, Peanut.”

“Can I have a kitten?”

“I don’t like cats.”

“How can you not like cats? Cats are cute. They’re all fluffy and sweet and purr and stuff. How do you not like cats? Can I? Get one? For my birthday?”

“How about I talk to your mum about that? She gets the last say.”

“That’s ‘cause she wears the pants in the family.”

Tyler smirks. “Did she say that too?”

“Don’t deny it, daddy. You know mum's the boss. She just let’s you think you are. Everyone knows she rules the roost.”

“I’m going to have a talk with her later. Is this good enough? Good enough kangaroo?”

“Best kangaroo ever! Looks like Charlie. Do you think he misses us? I bet he does. I bet he’s sad that we’re not there. Because no one is giving him peanut butter sandwiches and lettuce. What if he’s mad at us? That we went away? What if he doesn’t come back? I don’t want him being mad at us.”

“I had a talk with him before we left. Told him we’d be back in a couple weeks. And that we’d give him extra lettuce when we got back. And peanut butter sandwiches.”

“Was he mad? That we were going away?”

“Nope. He was a little sad. Said he’d miss you the most. That you make the best peanut butter sandwiches.”

She tips her head back to look at him; a smile stretching from ear to ear and her dark eyes sparkling. “He did? He said that?”

“He did. He said ‘tell Addie she’s my favorite and I’ll miss her and her peanut butter sandwiches’. He said he’d be there when you got back. First thing in the next morning.”

“He’s a good little Joey. I hope he never gets tired of us and that when he grows up and has his own babies, he brings them to our house too. And then we can feed them all peanut butter sandwiches and lettuce.”

Smiling, he curls an arm around her waist and pulls her tighter into him, then presses a kiss to her cheek and then the side of her head. She’s so much like her mother; the short and petite build, the dark eyes and the beaming smile and the freckle splattered nose. And their personality is shared as well; both bubbly and light hearted and willing and eager to experience new things and meet new people. Out of all the kids, she’s the one he babies; by far the tiniest and the seemingly most fragile. But it’s the similarity to her mother that drives his need to protect and coddle her the most; reminding him of Esme and everything his wife had gone through during the entire McMann fiasco to make sure Addie was carried and brought into the world safely.

Silence one more falls on the top when the waitress returns with drink refills and their respective orders. And it isn’t until halfway through the meal when he notices Millie look up from her plate of food and towards the front door; eyes narrowing and a scowl capturing her lips. She reaches behind Declan and smacks TJ upside the head; the latter growling in protest, but then following his sister’s gaze when she nods in the direction of the door.

“What’s up with you two? What’s…?”

“It’s that lady,” Millie grumbles. “The one that came to the house looking for you yesterday.”

“That’s her?” TJ’s nose crinkles in disgust. “SHE had the nerve to shit talk mum? Oh hell no.”

Tyler makes the mistake of glancing over his shoulder; greeted by a broad smile and a wave as Natalie nudges her daughter in the direction of their booth. He inwardly lets loose a string of profanities. There’d already been enough drama caused over a simple and unassuming conversation at the park. The last thing he needs is someone...especially another woman...dropping by his house and getting too close and comfortable. The women at the soccer park and on the playground are bad enough. But at least they’re not showing up unannounced on his doorstep.

“Hey,” Natalie cheerfully greets. “Imagine meeting you here.”

“My dad’s not the only one here,” TJ responds first “You do see us, right?”

“Do you mind if we join you? If everyone shoves down just a bit…”

“We do mind,” Millie speaks up. “Very much. We’re here with our dad. It’s a family thing. We don’t even know you.”

“Amelia…” he stares at her pointedly. “...settle.”

“Dad, it’s quite obvious what and who she wants. Someone has to stick up for mum. She isn’t here to beat her ass herself.”

“I said settle. Relax. This doesn’t involve you.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and leans back against the leather of the booth and crosses her arms over her chest.

“This isn’t a good time,” he addresses Natalie. “She’s right. This IS a family thing.”

Smirking, the neighbour nods in Alannah’s direction.

“She’s as close to family as it gets. So if you don’t mind…”

“I stopped by yesterday. To thank you for being so nice at the park. Met your wife.”

“Yeah, she told me. She also told me you weren’t the friendliest. Something about making fun of how she looks?”

“I wasn’t making fun. I was merely critiquing.”

“You can keep your critiques to yourself. My wife looks amazing. Just the way she is. And really don’t think it was appropriate; you showing up like that. It was small talk. That’s it. I wasn’t trying to make it seem like anything more than that.”

“I thought we had a little...connection.”

“No. There was no connection. None. Whatsoever. I was being nice. That’s it. I’m married. And not the type of married that you’re probably used to. I’m married as in I’m not interested and nothing is ever going to happen.”

“Our dad doesn’t cheat,” TJ informs her. “And our mom is way better than you. Like, a hundred times better.”

“Tyler, stop. I can handle this. I know you’re protective of your mum, but…”

“I must have misread the signals.” Natalia gives a sheepish, apologetic smile. “The way you were giving them off and the way you were…”

“I wasn’t giving off any signals. I don’t play games like that. If I was interested, you’d know. And I’m not. Interested. I have a wife. That I love more than life itself. So thanks, but no thanks. Not gonna happen. EVER. And if you don’t mind, don’t come to my house. That was way out of line. I didn’t appreciate it. There was no need for that. Unless you just wanted to ruffle feathers.”

“I never meant to cause problems. My visit was taken way out of context. I just showed up to be friendly and neighbourly. That’s it.”

“Something tells me that’s bullshit. And I’d really like it if you didn’t come around. Like I said, I’m married. Happily. VERY happily. I don’t know what kind of married men you’re used to, but I’m not one of them. So if I could get back to lunch with my kids…”

“I’m sorry to have caused you any issues. Or to have wasted your time.”

He watches her as she goes; the tightly clenched jaw and the rigid shoulders and the over aggressive way she shoves her daughter in the direction of an empty table. It’s the behaviour of a woman that is used to getting what and WHO she wants. Who isn’t used to rejection -especially public- and can’t handle being put in her place.

“I don’t know about you, dad,” TJ says, as he turns around in his seat after watching Natalie’s dramatic exit. “But I don’t trust her. She’s definitely up to no good.”

Nodding slowly, he lifts his coffee cup to his lips and takes a long, slow sip. His instincts tell him the same thing; it isn’t the last he’s seen or heard from the new neighbour. He’s witnessed that kind of behaviour before. She’s cunning and manipulative; refusing to take no for an answer and doing whatever she can to wreak havoc as a response to being shot down. But he’s faced far greater challenges and threats. Nik had learned the hard way not to fuck with his family. Being ostracized and shunned for years until she was ready to make amends for the trouble she’d caused and she’d finally moved on with Anil; getting married and having children of her own and settling nicely into a repaired and much healthier relationship with both Tyler and Esme. And if Natalie has to suffer the same embarrassing fate, he has no qualms about dealing her that particular hand.

More than ready, willing, and able to protect and defend the life he has.

[jawllines]

hey bub don't forget to post the met gala fic! xoxo ur reminder anon

tHANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME :D

“Holy shit.”

Y/N had seen Harry in a lot of things -- being his best friend meant experiencing his wardrobe, including but not limited to getting pictures of outfits laid out for something with question marks for her opinion, entering expensive boutiques with eyes averting from price tags in attempt not to panic, marveling as she walks through his closet to see pieces he’d purchased unbeknownst to her (plucking a few things from his drawers), and sending him links to things she think he ought to like just to see him in a photo online in it a week or so later. Despite how familiar she was with his taste in fashion and what he looks like in items of different colors, cuts, and fabrics, she is still often blown away with what he could conjure up. There was just something so. . .alluring, about the way in which he wore things with confidence without oozing any sort of cockiness that might turn someone off from him.

So when he’d invited her to come with him to New York for the Met Gala (in which she would not be attending, given she didn’t have thirty grand lying around to spend, but she got to sleep in a fancy hotel and eat like a King for a few days so she was happy), she’d been more than ecstatic. Was keen on seeing his outfits, hearing what he would do, what he’d have to say, and hope that he explain to her what even happens at the Met Gala apart from the red carpet. Even had fun with his impromptu ear piercing that she helped with (she’s got steadier hands than him). Her plan was simple -- to enjoy the luxuries of being rich without actually having to be rich, dawning one of the expensive hotel robes, slipping her feet into slippers and watch a livestream of the carpet while simultaneously pretending she would be willing to spend more than twenty dollars on a top as she scrolled through various clothing websites. Maybe take a bath or something and wait for him to come back, wondering what food they served at those kinds of events, if Harry would even like it, and if she should order room service (to which she would pay him back for even if it meant sliding money into his wallet when he wasn’t looking) and get him something in case he didn’t.

Though as the night continued on, picture after picture being released, videos and live streams from the event, everything seems so exciting and entertaining, she began to feel a small pit of. . .of something in her chest. She couldn’t quite tell what it was -- she was so proud of him and so happy to see him happy, that her cheeks could burst with a smile from it, but her heart weighs heavy. Harry makes good to rarely seem like he’s famous. Apart from the occasional fan picture or paparazzi hoard, he’s just normal Harry, who snores way too loud, has awful gas after eating jambalaya, picks off people’s plates without so much as a question to, and cannot sit still or keep quiet through a movie if he wasn’t interested in the subject matter. He was the Harry that shoved his head under her hand as his formal request for her to play with his hair and gave her drunken, emotional kisses because he’s “never felt so close t’a someone before”, and would rather sleep on her dingy old couch in her worn down flat than sleep in his multi-million dollar home if it meant that he didn’t have to be alone.

This Harry though -- famous Harry -- appeared to be completely in his element. Floating down the pink carpet with the man responsible for all things Gucci, dancing to Cher, mingling with celebrities, hosting the fucking event. It was like a whole different world he was apart of; one of glamour and opulence that she could only ever dream of. At that moment, for the first time, she’d felt as if she’d been holding Harry back somehow. She’s more than aware that she does not have that kind of power to do it on her own, but what about what he does for her? The nights that she wants him to come over, is he turning down plans with someone who might be more beneficial to his career? Or with someone who has much better, more interesting stories than what her professor tried to pull in her lecture? Maybe he was passing on drinks with stylists and people of greater importance because he’s far too loyal to pass on a romantic comedy movie night with her?

He deserved all good things; nothing but great, wonderful things and she feels endlessly guilty that she is unable to cater to that side of him.

That’s why when he returns a little earlier than he had expected, showing off the second garment he had changed into, his eyes wide and bright, “Get dressed, you’re comin’ with me to an after party!” He chirps after bursting through the door, walking towards the closet without a second thought and swinging the door open to reveal what she had presumed was a bag for one of his suits. Instead he pulls it from the closet, tosses it onto the mattress that she was sprawled on and points his finger at it, “Loads of people I wan’ you t’a meet, yeah?”

Her heart kicks up in her chest, not only because he is even more ethereal in person, nor was it just the fact that he had literally scared her phone out of her hand when he’d plowed in through the door, but because what in the hell? People he wants her to meet? At a met gala after party? Is she even allowed at those?

“Am  I even allowed at those?” She mirrors her confusion and he shrugs his shoulders.

“Don’t see why not; m’the co-chair, so I think I get a bit of leeway with a thing or two,” he pulls the zipper open to the bag, uncovering a beautiful glittery, chain detailed silver slip dress that she only distantly remembers stroking her fingers against on the mannequin, checked the price tag, and pretend it didn’t happen. Y/N couldn’t believe he’d remembered it let alone purchased the damn thing and now it was just sat on the mattress, waiting for her to put it on, “If anything everyone will suspect your just some smarmy socialite who doesn’t a hundred percent what Camp is and that’s’ okay. Hurry on then, I don’ want them to have too much fun without me.”

Her eyes were wide, “Holy shit,” sbe begins, placing her fingers to her temples, “Holy shit, Harry,” she shakes her head, “I can’t go! I’m not even -- I don’t even -- I took like a half assed shower at best!”

“And you look marvelous, Darling,” he took the liberty of withdrawing the dress from the bag, thrusting it out towards her with his fist around the sleek dark wood of the hanger, “I’ve been gushing about ya all night, and y’know I hate to be made a liar.” He motions towards the piece in his hand, brows furrowed as he becomes impatient, “S’been like two months since I bought this so if y’don’t like it anymore then --”

“Shut up, you know I love it,” she takes it from him, trying to ignore the way her heart swells when his mouth pulls up in a big, triumphant smile, “But it was at least one month’s rent, you’re asking me to go to a party with a ton of famous people and that’s something that I need to like prepare for mentally weeks beforehand.”

As soon as she’s got the dress in hand, he takes her by the shoulders and guides her towards the bathroom, “Yeah, yeah, Lovie, listen -- they’re all jus’ like me, yeah? Normal, dressed a bit fancy,” he squeezes her where his hands lay, “Loud as all get out, just like a good chat, will absolutely adore you if you get your arse ready in the next twenty or so minutes.”

He’d managed to close her in the bathroom, leaving Y/N to stare into the large floor to ceiling mirror illuminating every flaw she could’ve possibly thought to have all at once. She looks disheveled -- like someone who had only been planning on lounging around on a hotel bed and living simultaneously through Met Gala Twitter. Not somebody who was meant to get ready in twenty minutes. However, somehow Harry was incredibly persuasive without even having to be persuasive and she was sliding the robe from her shoulders, letting it pool to the floor.

She could get ready in twenty minutes -- she’s had worse time constraints in the past.

                                                                .                                    .                                       .

Y/N’s head is spinning.

Too much had happened in such a short amount of time; she’d met more people than she would have thought to be imaginable in a night than she’d ever met in her entire life. People of such fame and opulence she was certain that they would never cross paths, no matter the fact that she’s Harry’s right hand for most things. However, she realizes tonight as she’s mingling and meeting these people Harry has known for a long while and had never let the situation arise in which Y/N would meet them. Harry kept his personal life separate from his public life and if he could, she realizes, he kept her personal to him which simultaneously made her heart soften and ache all in the same.

She doesn’t think it would hurt too bad, until she had fluttered around the room with him and he had left her to her own devices for a moment so he could get them both something to drink. That’s when someone had turned to her (she wishes she could remember their name but after meeting so many people in a night, most of them escaped her) and said with a look of bewilderment on their face, “So you guys have been friends for how long? You seem so close, I wonder why he hasn’t really mentioned you before.”

It’s not like she expected him to be speaking on her twenty four seven, that definitely wasn’t the case! However, she talks about him a healthy amount to her other friends, and not even in a way where he’s Harry Styles -- again, just the boy who gets drooly when his face is smushed up against a shoulder -- they know that he’s around and is aware of his presence and their friendship. It makes her wonder if he’s ashamed of her or something. . .was being friends with a college student considered unclassy? Would it be better if she was some socialite who had infiltrated the world of celebrities and shared all their gossip at the first breath of their names? Because those are the friends of his that these people know about.

But he had brought her tonight, so that meant something didn’t it? It had to have, right? Was this a test to see how she would do in a situation where she was placed amongst people of such high regard? Or did he just feel guilty for inviting her then leaving? Or was he just riding off the high of the night and was making hasty decisions that he otherwise wouldn’t dream of?

There’s too many possibilities, it makes her head spin, more so than the apple flavored vodka she’d been sipping on. She needed to get out of her head -- she knows she does -- but it feels impossible when she so clearly doesn’t belong. And without Harry at her side, she felt even more misplaced than she had to begin with. The judging glances from people who couldn’t seem to decipher why she was there, why she was silent unless spoken to, and why it appeared like she wanted to jump from her skin. She had never been more uncomfortable in her life, and she decides then that maybe Harry keeping her away from this was best.

When she’d sought him out to tell him she was going to head home -- make up some excuse about a migraine or something -- she sees him speaking with Kendall, which only seems to further the wrench in her heart. All those teenage glimmers of hope that she could be his right hand are squashed because she’d only proven tonight that she couldn’t handle this side and this was such a large part of him. Not the only part, but big enough that she could understand if he didn’t want to bother trying to acclimate her to it. Why would he want to be with someone who he couldn’t bring to events without them starting to doubt themselves? And why the hell is she even thinking about being with him right now?

She retreats to the bathroom -- just for a little space, at the very least, to calm her down. Tears threaten to crawl up her eyes but she won’t let them. God! Why is she being so melodramatic? What’s her deal all of the sudden? She’s about three minutes from kicking her own ass -- surrounded by celebrities and idols she’s had for years, just to go to the restroom and sit still on the toilet long after she finished peeing? Just because she plummeted herself into her feelings about a boy? It’s like some twisted form of movie high school prom that she’d never, ever wanted to encounter.

Y/N isn’t sure how long she’d been sat there, until her phone dings a bright noise and startles her from whatever reverie she’d thrown herself into. She’s surprised to see Harry’s contact be what she sees, considering she didn’t even think he had pockets to keep his phone, so she swipes right on it quickly.

Where are you? Is everything okay?

And then the bastard had to be so damn sweet! Why should he care if she’s okay? He’d just hosted the damn Met Gala for Christ sake, she should be the last thing on his mind.

She feels her eyes well; here she was in the bathroom, feeling sorry for herself when it was Harry’s night. How could she run off to the hotel? She was here to support him and praise him because tonight is about him and she almost feels selfish for letting her emotions have her feeling like it was even remotely about her.

Deciding to no longer feel sorry for herself, she answers him back letting him know she was in the bathroom, stands up, finally wipes like she should have about ten minutes ago, and goes to wash her hands. She looks at herself in the mirror, very seriously tells herself to buck the hell up only to jump some when she realizes that Katy Perry is beside her in a burger costume. She nods politely, pulls a paper towel from the dispenser and pushes her way out to see Harry was standing and waiting for her, a dopey smile on his stupidly cute face.

“Are ya havin’ fun?”

Y/N musters her best smile and nods, “Loads,” she responds, “Are you?”

He nods enthusiastically, reaching out for her arm and giving her a small tug, “C’mon then, ‘ve been DJ-ing with Mark and I want you to have a go.”

                                                        .                               .                             .

By the end of the night it is very well apparent that celebrities party like college students. After the first afterparty he had taken her to, they went to a smaller one that he co-hosted, and it was a bit slower paced. Y/N felt more comfortable there at the very least -- maybe too comfortable, because several times she caught herself slowly fading to sleep, only brought back to full alertness when the coolness of her glass is pressed against her thigh. She’d done her fair share of mingling here too and met a handful of people that made her mouth dry, but by the time the sun started to rise in the sky, she was curled up on a couch and scrolling through her phone absently, waiting for Harry’s cue that they could go back to the hotel. He’d come to check on her a few times, asking if she wanted to meet someone (she would say yes), or if she just needed company but she urged him several times to go have fun (“You and I will be together for the next few days anyway, y’might as well enjoy your time without me hovering,” she had told him to which he replied with a pout of, “But I like when you hover.” that made her heart flutter more than it should have).

She was in the weird state of drunk-ish but slowly sobering; the last shot she had was an hour or so ago but she still felt buzzy and light. Still drunk enough to think that considering trekking downstairs and hitching a taxi by herself when she wasn’t all too sure of where their hotel was, might be a good idea -- but of sound enough mind to recognize that her feet ached too much to even think about trekking anywhere.

Around 7-ish, a gentle hand lies on her shoulder and nearly has her spring from her skin. Harry’s soft, low, sleepy chuckle is her first indication that it’s him before she turns around and sees his bow is a bit askew, his hair has been tousled and combed through to high heavens, and his eyes were puffy and red from his own weariness. “Jumpy,” he’d murmured, and she could tell he had sobered up considerably and was probably far soberer than she was, as he holds his hand out for her to take, helping her rise and leaning over to grab the heels she had kicked off and lied beside the couch, “Y’should’ve told me you were tired. Would’ve gotten you back to the hotel.”

“And what, miss out on some rich hot shot celebrity falling in love with my drunken sleeping form?” She stood, wincing and pouting, taking her heels from his fingers and sliding them back onto her foot, “Speaking of, m’pretty sure Taron Egerton is bringing me home actually, so I’ll send for my things.”

He furrows his brows at her and waves her along, “Yeah, yeah, and Alessandro is signing Gucci over to me -- c’mon now.”

“That’s actually not so unbelievable,” she replies.

The ride home, Y/N demands Harry work through his jaded brain to tell her about his entire night. She hypes him up even after the fact, reveling in his stories with him, all the new people he meant, how invigorating it was to be hosting the very first Met Gala that he attended, how freeing it was to have his nipples out at an event of this high stature, and how much fun he’d had even afterward. Though he still shies from her praise, blushing a pretty pink when she tells him he’s a legend and, “You’re literally doing such great things at such a young point in your solo career, m’surprised you aren’t floating from ego bloat,” makes him shake his head through a laugh.

She had thought she had made a brilliant recovery from her previous, mid-party panic, and was actually patting herself on the back for having it go unnoticed by him (because he notices absolutely everything; people could call Harry a lot of things, but one of them wasn’t dense). This is why she was so blindsided by how he approaches her when she’d plopped down on the hotel bed, kicking the heels off once again and flopping back against the mattress.

“So are you going to tell me what had you bent out of shape earlier?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, heart sinking to her stomach, “Hm?” She plays dumb but he gives her that look -- that “don’t for a second think that you can trick me” look that almost makes her visibly shudder.

“You know what I mean,” he responds, “Y’think I don’t notice when you’re gone quiet? Or when you disappear for twenty minutes? Did someone say something to you?”

She opens her mouth to deny it but he shoots her that look again and she crumbles beneath it, shaking her head, “It was nothing,” she tells him, “I just got in my head, is all but it doesn’t matter and m’fine, so everything is good.”

“Don’t say you’re feelings don’t matter, because they do,” he responds almost immediately, peeling himself from his outfit and revealing the creamy smooth skin beneath -- Y/N has to tear her eyes from his torso so that she’s listening -- “Tell me what was wrong.”

“You’re awful demanding,” she grumbles, reaching up to take her earrings out, “It was just new and weird; I was surrounded by people I only ever see on a screen and then there were some people that just -- I just realized I didn’t really fit in, and I got in my head, but I got over it.”

His brows furrow, crawling up onto the bed, “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Because it was your night idiot!” She all but snaps at him, not out of anger with him, but from pure frustration with herself, “I wasn’t going to hold you back because I felt weird. That wouldn’t be fair to you, n’I just -- I’m not apart of that world and it was very apparent and I just realized that I could be holding you back from something better when you’re hanging out with me or even that you have to take me places with you ‘cos you feel guilty. And if. . .and someone just -- I said we were best friends and they made a face and I -- it just feels weird. . .I felt weird.” Pushing the heels of her palms to her eyes, she shakes her head, “But it doesn’t matter, stop prying, me head hurts enough and I’m not letting this ruin how amazing tonight was.”

Harry’s fingers are gentle as they loop around her wrist, pulling it at it delicately so he could draw her hands from her face, “Okay,” he murmurs gently, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, I just --” he pauses for a moment, like he’s trying to pluck the right words from his brain, “You’re so important t’me, y’know that? Right important and I wanted to bring you with me t’night, because I wanted to experience this amazing night with you.” His thumb carefully caresses her skin, and she can feel his eyes boring into her though she doesn’t look up at him, “Y’don’t have to be apart of that world, yeah? I like that you aren’t ‘cos -- well, as selfish as it is, I just want you all to myself. You’re my person. And don’t ever think you’re holding me back, Lovie, if I wanted to hang out with a ton of snobby rich celebrities all day then I would.” He leans in, pushing a kiss to her forehead, “I love you Dummy.”

Her heart pulls in her chest, “I love you more,” she murmurs.

They finish getting ready for bed (despite it being close to 9AM) and Y/N returns from the bathroom to see that Harry had planted himself on her mattress opposed to his own, snuggled up beneath her covers with only his eyes peeking out at her, “Get in,” his words are muffled by the blankets and Y/N rolls her eyes, climbing up into bed beside him. He wriggles his way over to her almost instantly, lying his head against her chest and sighing contentedly as his eyes flutter shut.

“You looked really hot t’night,” she murmurs idly as she combs her fingers through his hair and he hums, nestling closer to her, “Especially in the first outfit. You’re lucky I didn’t jump your bones.”

Harry laugh comes as a soft puff through his nose.

“You should’ve.” He responded.

Y/N stays up for an hour after thinking about it.

[bleached-d-soul]

Team ALAN: Lovely In-CON-veniences

Part 3 of Team ALAB commissions for @the-hapless-ace

This was a mistake.

When you join a terrorist organization, you have to learn how to sense danger before it occurs. You either learn to do it early or have to learn from experiences, sometimes not without the loss of some limbs and sanity. Adam should have know that when Ruby burst into their room with that creepy smile of hers, he should have run and hidden for a week or two.

The Vale Comic Con was an event not unknown to Adam, if only because he once considered it as a potential target for White Fang attack. And no, it wasn't because of the overwhelming amount of Ninja Catgirl cosplayers there. He simply hated the fetishism with reagrds to the faunus. Rehardless of that, he absolutely refused to go.

Unfortunately, he owed Weiss a date of her choosing. And just like the real Schnee, she refused to suffer alone.

"Oh my Gods, can we please take a picture?"

The decision came last moment. And since |Ruby refused to allow him to go there in his normal clothes, he had to make do with whatever stuff he had lying around. His old cloak without the rose emblem. His old mask without color marks. And of course, the black wig provided to him by Blake. Apparently, his ex couldn't miss the chance to get some laughs out of it.

"You look just like the Joker!"

"The clown?"

"No, from Persona series!"

"Ah, right."

He had no idea who that was. In a couple of moments, thankfully, that humiliation was over. Before he could get back to Weiss to give her another piece of his mind though, another couple of girls approached him. More pictures? Fine, whatever got that off his back.

"Can you take a rose from my hands with your mouth?"

Sure, whatever. Quickly, he did as asked. The girl ran away squealing.

"Can you cover your eyes with your hands, please?"

She did promise him to leave quickly so why not. The girl wandered off smiling.

"Can I sit in your lap?"

"Yeah, su-"

The ground shook. The air around them dropped a few degrees in temperature before the wall of ice separated him from the surprisingly large crowd of women. Were they under attack? Finally! Some chance to escape this madhouse and-

"Adam. Taurus."

The chilling and emotionless tone pierced through the air, his eyes drawn towards the source of it. Surrounded by ice and snow, in the middle of the hall stood none other than his girlfriend. And she was absolutely burning with rage, if only the giant Knight of white and blue looming over her was any indication.

"I leave for a few seconds and you are feeling up some other girls?"

What?

"I didn't do anything like that!" Was it really how it looked? He was just trying to get them off his back. It was either caving in to their demands or cutting them down. And it was her and Ruby that explicitly forbade him from killing the people he found annoying. "You know this is not my fault, right?"

Something clicked in Weiss' eyes. The semblance of clearance and understanding that promised him the peaceful resolution and the quiet for the rest of this already unpleasant and annoying day.

That promise died an ugly death as the girl's eyes lost any and all light and her lips stretched into an ugly smile.

One that promised only bloodshed and death.

"You are right... This is not your fault at all."

Good, maybe things weren't so bad.

"It is all these harlots that want you!"

...

Shit.

ALAB

"Yang, are you angry at me?"

"No."

"You look angry."

"I don't."

"Your hair is on fire and your eyes are burning red."

"And?"

Ren looked at his girlfriend's face, wondering what he should say. What he could even say when faced with this angry pout of hers. In many ways. Yang was just as emotionally broken as he was. She hid her abandonment issues and insecurities behind the cocky attitude and pride much like he hid his anger and pain behind the stoic and serene attitude.

But no matter how much they masked their fears and insecurities, those still existed and sometimes came to the surface in the most unfortunate of times. Just like their current situation.

"Sorry for getting us kicked out of that contest," Yang said as they sat down in a nearby cafe. It was a nice place and, thankfully, with only a few people. It was pretty early right now so most attendees must have been stuck buying merch and meeting all the celebrities that were here today. "I know I could have handled that... better than I did."

That was one way to put it.

Ren had little reservations about his body. And even though he was embarrassed with the outfit Yang picked for him, he grew comfortable with it very quickly. Yang herself said she wanted to show off her boyfriend's amazing body in that skintight outfit that consisted of only a shirt that covered his chest and a tight pair of shorts. And she did enjoy the jealous and hungry looks thrown his way.

For a total of ten minutes before she started frantically looking for something to cover him with.

She found nothing and so spent the last hour or so glaring at every woman that passed them by. It was fine, Ren told himself. Glaring and growling was fine as long as things didn't become physical. They eventually did, mostly because he couldn't help himself. Ren rarely indulged in things like video games or junk food like his friends. But when the chance to get the next edition of his favorite game came, he simply couldn't let this chance pass him by.

So he signed up even though Yang wasn't interested and got ready to win. It was all good and great for the first two stages. He was in the lead and, by the looks of it, would be coming home with the prize in his hand.

Then the third stage announced was the couple game. And unfortunately, for all the single ladies and gentlemen, they were paired up with random contestant. It was clear the stage was meant to see who could adapt the fastest and give the most coherent performance. He was lucky to draw the second strongest contestant for himself.

Who turned out to be Neon, the girl Yang fought just a few days ago.

He could have sworn he heard something snap. And when he looked at Yang... Well, he told himself she wouln't do anything drastic in the open.

And for the first few minutes, he was actually right. Their dance was energetic and synchronized, him acting as the strong and solid foundation for Neon's more flashy and bright moves.

The music came to an end, the crowd exploded with claps and whistles. They were going to win, for sure. That game was as good as his!

Then Neon delivered a loud and sharp slap across his ass.

And next thing he knew, the dancing contest turned into a huge catight.

"Ren?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you angry at me?"

"No."

"You look... Well, I never can tell but I would be angry if I were you."

"I am not though," a little bit upset. But not angry. "Plus, I am sure you are not going to-"

She was gone.

He turned to look at the trail of blazes left behind. The sound of an all too familiar laugh of one rollerblading huntress was the proof enough his day was about to become much louder and hotter.

ALAB

Mercury loved to drive the little Red crazy.

Call him an asshole but there was something incredibly satisfying about watching the girl so confident on the battlefield turn into a blushing stammering mess. Sometimes he would kiss her out in the open or flirt with her during the spar. She looked so cute when she was trying to take his head off with that scythe of hers while burning red as her cape.

Today was an exception, though.

Today it was him on the other end of the stick.

"C-Come on, Red, be reasonable here, please?" He was backed against the wall, the passers-by either ignoring them or taking pictures. Something about real-life Yandere of whatever the fuck those nimrods were whispering about. "R-Ruby, I swear to Gods, stay away from me with that marker!"

She dressed up as some superhero named... Flasher or whatever, he didn't pay much mind. He did, however, take the opportunity to show off his assets and get the girl all hot and bothered under that skintight suit of hers. Seriously, for the girl with so many reservations and social troubles, she seemed unaware of how many guys threw horny looks her way.

He did. And now those guys stayed far away from her.

Apparently, she was not as oblivious as he thought and noticed all the lustful and hungry looks. But only the ones that came from other girls towards him. Which brings us back to him, backed into the corner with his girlfriend trying to mark him of all things!

"I will be quick, Mercury, I promise!"

"That's a permanent marker, Ruby!"

"I am sure we can remove it later!"

"This doesn;t make it better!"

In hindsight, it was all his fault. He should have chosen something that could be actually zipped up. Instead he went dressed as this emo ninja with weird eyes powers who dressed like a stripper. And now Ruby wanted to write her name on his chest like some toy.

Sounded kinky but it wasn't!

"I will buy a bunch of strawberry cookies a-!"

"No!" She yelled, covering her ears. "You can't bribe if I can't hear you!"

An opening to exploit! Yes!

He rushed past her and into the crowd. Maybe he could snatch someone's cape or something? Before he could rob some poor sucker, the torpedo of rose petals smashed into him from behind. Positioning herself on the top of his stomach, Ruby showed no hesitation or shame as she breathed down his neck.

With the eyes full of the terrifying emotion and her smile so hollow it sent chills down his smile, Ruby whispered:

"Now they all will know you are mine and only mine!"

Her marker stabbed into his chest like a knife, marking him as her property and lover.

Somehow, he didn' feel so scared about it.

"Now let's go and show them all that you are mine!"

... And now he was.

ALAB

"Go and tell her she is ugly."

"I am not doing that."

"Fine, then the collar stays on."

"Ugh..."

Out of his entire team, Jaune was possibly the only one excited to come here. He never attended one of the major conventions since, well, his town didn't have any and he barely had the money to come here. So when Ruby won the total of eight passes here, he was ready to kiss her! Well, not really, since she was dating Mercury and that was violation of a bro code.

Also because he also had a girlfriend whom he liked a lot

Even if she could become a bit... possessive.

"Come on, this doesn't even make any sense for me to wear a collar! I am Leon Kennedy!" And Leon Kennedy was a badass that could never stay caught for that long. "Also Ada uses a giant crossbow and your weapon looks nothing like that."

"I don't give a shit, it was the costume the guy in the store recommended," Vernal scoffed as she tugged on his leash. Her eyes scanned the crowd like an expert predator. She saw a couple of nerds drooling over how tight the pants hugged her legs and ass. Heh, good time jerking off, losers. Then her eyes caught some girls drooling over how tight Jaune's pants hugged his ass and legs.

...

They would have to go. Not now, of course. Her boyfriend always got upset whenever she threatened other girls with violence, Gods know why though.

"V-Vernal, where are we going?"

"Just shut up and follow me, loverboy."

Vernal might have lived in Beacon now but she still lived by the laws of her tribe. And the law of the strong was simple back home: See. Want. Take.

The last part - about putting down anyone who tried to take something from you - was an unspoken rule, of course. Back in the tribe, it was the strongest who got the best food and stuff. Not because they were better at scavenging and stealing, but rather because they knew how to take something from others better. And Vernal knew that, if she allowed even one of the girls here approach her boyfriend, she would give everyone the signal she was soft.

Not happening.

"And now for the second place in our couples costu- Hey, ma'am, you are not supposed to-Oh! Wait, not in the face! Not in the face!"

The silence fell over the crowd.

All eyes were on them,

Vernal took the mic.

Jaune covered his face.

"Alright, listen up, all of you! I know that most of you here are losers with nothing better to do than dress up as leather-clad morons and bitches and think you are cool because you watched some Mistralian cartoons with lots of yelling. I also know that at least eighty per cent of you are fucking virgins desperate to get some and watching some camgirls dress up like your favorite cartoon girls drives you nuts," she ignored the death glares thrown her way. Jaune yelped as Vernal dragged him up and planted a deep wet kiss on his lips, invading his mouth with her tongue for the crowd to see. "Having said that, neither me nor MY boyfriend here are as lame you all. And if I see any of you bitches looking at my fucking man, remember-"

She spread her arms, showing her toned body for people to drink in.

"- this is what he enjoys every night. Remember that before looking at him next time!"

Vernal dropped the mic.

Then she grabbed him by the collar and began passionately marking him as hers.

Regardless of that, Jaune would cry as he would later find out he was banned from this convention for the foreseeable future.

Just like the rest of his and RWBY teams.

[mille-marteaux]

[T-A-C] Marte: how delirious do we need to get you in order to write a maid tier list

@t-a-c​ never ask me for anything ever again (you may feel free to ask me for things in the future.)

I will be rating the maids that I know of on the following criteria, on a baseline scale of 1-10:

Are they actually a maid: A yes or no question. If they are not actually a maid then they are disqualified but will still get ratings anyway because it makes the list funnier.

Modesty: How reasonable their maid uniform is. The "sexier" the costume is, the lower the score.

Professionalism: How they behave while on the job. The more they flirt with/actively torment/etc their employer, the lower the score.

Competence: How good they actually are at performing domestic tasks, such as cooking and cleaning. The worse they are, the lower the score.

Combat proficiency: How effective they are in battle. The more of a liability they would be in a fight, the lower the score.

Devotion: How devoted they are to their employer. The more disinterested they are, the lower the score.

Extra input: A miscellaneous category that does not award points, but is more room for my own observations and extra opinions.

I will be going down the line from series that I know about. I do not actually actively seek out maid content - it mostly finds me. But I'm bored, so whatever. (Don't expect to see Rem on this list because I never watched Re:Zero.)

i am not inserting images as i’ve already spent two and a half hours on this fucking awful post like three people are going to read. find images yourself

PHANTASY STAR ONLINE 2 This game has at least one maid.

LUCOTTE IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 5/10 (despite being an android, she still expresses herself with a "sexy" maid-like design) PROFESSIONALISM: 8/10 (she is very serious about what she does but is a little eager to dote on others) COMPETENCE: 5/10 (seems decent enough at chores but will break brooms using them as weapons) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 (trainer NPC for the Etoile class; helps all Etoiles grow stronger) DEVOTION: 10/10 (loves her friends and all her peers and will protect them with her life) OTHER NOTES: checked my vibes when we were introduced to her and basically made me admit that i do, in fact, like maids to some extent

THE AVERAGE ARKS MEMBER WEARING A MAID COSTUME IS A MAID: No MODESTY: Anywhere from 3-10 PROFESSIONALISM: Anywhere from 0-10 COMPETENCE: Anywhere from 0-10 COMBAT PROFICIENCY: Anywhere from 1-10 DEVOTION: Anywhere from 0-10 OTHER NOTES: putting on a frilly dress does not automatically make you a maid. spend money on your gear instead of trying to seduce others

==================

PUELLA MAGI MADOKA MAGICA Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you god damn it son of a fucking bitch fuck you

MELISSA IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 10/10 (very tasteful uniform and magical girl costume) PROFESSIONALISM: 10/10 (she does maid things and treats everyone with respect) COMPETENCE: i don't remember. like at least a 8/10. it's been a while since event ran and i don't feel like reading it for this list COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 0/10 normally, 9/10 if contracted and transformed. her personal memoria implies she got darc killed at least once due to being on the front lines and not as a magical girl DEVOTION: 10/10 (she will take an arrow for darc without hesitation if she has to but darc would take the arrow first) OTHER NOTES: the first magireco event character i uncapped and four-slotted

KANAGI IZUMI IS A MAID: No (she works part-time in a maid cafe; otherwise is not a domestic worker.) MODESTY: 6/10 (as her work uniform is a "sexy" maid costume it scores lower than usual, but it could be much less modest) PROFESSIONALISM: 5/10 (she treats all customers with respect but does not behave in the cutesy bubbly way you'd expect a maid cafe employee to behave) COMPETENCE: 9/10 (excellent worker; but accidentally messed up a ketchup drawing once) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 (is a veteran magical girl) DEVOTION: 0/10 (she does not put any love into anything she does and is only a part-time worker) OTHER NOTES: AABBC is a good disc loadout

==================

GRANBLUE FANTASY oh you know it has maids

DOROTHY IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 10/10 (wears an actual proper maid dress) PROFESSIONALISM: 8/10 (has a few... moments. professionalism drops to 2/10 when near MC) COMPETENCE: 10/10 (is very good at her job) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: (8/10; is only held back by game mechanics. 10/10 when paired with claudia) DEVOTION: 15/10 (she will kill a man for her employer) OTHER NOTES:

CLAUDIA IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 10/10 (also wears an actual proper maid dress similar to dorothy) PROFESSIONALISM: 7/10 (is fond of napping on the job. would be 8/10 but she loses one point for flashing her thigh during a combat tournament battle to distract and defeat her opponent.) COMPETENCE: 10/10 (is very good at her job) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: (7/10; is only held back by game mechanics. has a slightly worse kit than dorothy as her big damage skill can miss. 10/10 when paired with dorothy) DEVOTION: 10/10 (she will break a few legs for her employer if needed but is lacking in empathy for non-employers) OTHER NOTES: she scares me

==================

AZUR LANE whY ARE THERE SO MANY MAIDS IN THE ROYAL NAVY

BELFAST IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 5/10 (while her skirt is fine, her top is minuscule and requires copious amounts of fashion tape) PROFESSIONALISM: 2/10 (she sees the commander sleeping once and decides to move their head onto her lap so they awaken to a lap pillow, just to see how they react) COMPETENCE: 10/10 (despite everything, she is very good at her job) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 (goes to 14/10 if equipped with a HE gun) DEVOTION: 10/10 OTHER NOTES: she is not as lusty as the fandom would like to make her out to be but she would still jump the commander's bones in a heartbeat if given consent to do so

EDINBURGH IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 7.5/10 (her maid uniform is more akin to a maid cafe costume than a proper domestic worker uniform, but isn't offensively alluring like SOME OTHER PEOPLE in this section of the list) PROFESSIONALISM: 6/10 (she's doing her best) COMPETENCE: 0/10 (do not trust her with actual tasks) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 (goes to 13/10 if equipped with an AP gun) DEVOTION: 10/10 (she's doing her best) OTHER NOTES: she's doing her best

GLASGOW IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 8.5/10 (it's not perfectly modest but it's much more modest than SOME OTHER PEOPLE in this section) PROFESSIONALISM: 9/10 (she reads during active secretary work if she thinks nobody is around) COMPETENCE: 9/10 (seems good enough) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 9/10 (is held back by lower stats due to lower card rarity) DEVOTION: 10/10 (even if she hates the commander, she will continue to do work just fine) OTHER NOTES: i do not know anything about this character and only just read her lines about five minutes ago as of the time of writing this assessment

GLOUCESTER IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 7/10 (while the majority of her uniform is fine, she loses three points for the strange underbust window in her blouse that seems to be entirely there to distract perverts) PROFESSIONALISM: 10/10 (she will scold the commander for staring at maids instead of focusing on their work) COMPETENCE: 10/10 (as expected of one of these maids at this point, i imagine) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 (i am running out of witty comments. i will stop making them here unless i have something funny to say) DEVOTION: 10/10 (will continue to work even if she dislikes the commander but will refuse to speak to them) OTHER NOTES: did albert design her uniform or something

NEWCASTLE IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 6/10 (looks more akin to a maid cafe uniform than a domestic worker uniform) PROFESSIONALISM: 2/10 (very friendly and flirty. easy to get along with) COMPETENCE: 10/10 COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 8/10 (loses a point for rarity, another for having anti-air mode in her kit) DEVOTION: 10/10 OTHER NOTES: friend

SHEFFIELD IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 10/10 (finally a normal uniform) PROFESSIONALISM: 9/10 (while normally curt, she loses a point because of a distressingly weird scene in the anime where she nonchalantly flashes her peers during underwear discussion) COMPETENCE: 9/10 (loses one point due to being trigger happy) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 DEVOTION: 0/10 (rises to 2/10 when oathed) OTHER NOTES: wow i don't trust her at all actually

SIRIUS IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 2/10 (this is just getting ridiculous) PROFESSIONALISM: 0/10 (it appears everything she knows about being a maid she learned from pornography) COMPETENCE: 7/10 (despite everything, she's still relatively good at her work) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 DEVOTION: 15/10 (a little too devoted) OTHER NOTES: you have likely seen fanart and pornography of her without even knowing who she is

DIDO IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 1.5/10 (imagine albert designed a maid cafe uniform and you have dido) PROFESSIONALISM: 3/10 (she has severe anxiety issues that get in the way of her behavior but is at least not actively trying to jump the commander's bones) COMPETENCE: 9/10 (is good enough at her job that her anxiety makes her think she's being ignored because she isn't being watched all the time) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 DEVOTION: 30/10 (this is fed into due to her anxiety and fear of being abandoned) OTHER NOTES: albert really should not be allowed to design outfits

CURACOA IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 8/10 (drops to 3/10 after retrofit) OTHER NOTES: it's incredible how little i seem to care about her and curlew

CURLEW IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 8/10 (drops to 2/10 after retrofit; lower score than curacoa as she is in a more seductive pose) OTHER NOTES: see curacoa and replace "curlew" with "curacoa"

HMS NEPTUNE (not to be mistaken with HDN NEPTUNE) IS A MAID: No (she is a waitress) MODESTY: 6.5/10 (her uniform is very flashy and alluring) PROFESSIONALISM: 0/10 (she will regularly ask the commander to get on their knees and beg to her for a good reward) COMPETENCE: ??/10 (she does not seem to actually do domestic tasks) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 12/10 (rises to 17/10 if equipped with an AP gun) DEVOTION: 10/10 (she will devote herself to the commander but may also attempt to monopolize them; use extreme caution) OTHER NOTES: i'm fucking stupid. make of this comment what you will

==================

FIRE EMBLEM fire emblem fates was a mistake

FELICIA IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 7/10 (the nohrian maid outfit is nice but still a little fetishy with its short skirt and stockings making it resemble a cafe maid outfit more than a domestic worker uniform) PROFESSIONALISM: 6/10 (she's trying) COMPETENCE: 0/10 (not very effectively) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 (while a bumbling fool in domestic chores, she's skilled martially) DEVOTION: 10/10 (she will follow you even if you decide to defect from nohr) OTHER NOTES: heroes introduced me to her and i bought conquest to have her hit things in a good game and also to marry her

FLORA IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 7/10 (see felicia) PROFESSIONALISM: 10/10 (much more curt) COMPETENCE: 10/10 (she tends to have to fix felicia's mistakes) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 9/10 (skilled in battle but not as skilled as felicia is) DEVOTION: 10/10 (she normally would lose a point because she'd kill you if cornered but that's entirely garon's fault so she is excused) OTHER NOTES: i reinstalled heroes to roll for her and got her so i still have it installed

THE GENERIC NPC NOHRIAN MAID IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 7/10 (see felicia and flora) PROFESSIONALISM: ??/10 COMPETENCE: ??/10 COMBAT PROFICIENCY: anywhere from 5/10 to 15/10 depending on difficulty DEVOTION: 3/10 (if captured and bribed, they will join your army) OTHER NOTES: i'm stupid

ANY CHARACTER RECLASSED INTO A MAID IS A MAID: No OTHER NOTES: putting on a frilly dress does not automatically make you a maid

==================

LOVE LIVE god fucKING damn it

KOTORI MINAMI IS A MAID: No (works part-time at a maid cafe) MODESTY: 10/10 (finally. some proper fucking maid uniforms after all this weird fetish stuff) PROFESSIONALISM: 10/10 (falls to 0/10 if her peers are present) COMPETENCE: 10/10 (earned a nickname with "legendary" in the title due to how well she serves her customers) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: ??/10 (MIERNO "IDOLA" - VOLPHORNO playing loudly in the distance) DEVOTION: 9/10 (her customers usually come first but she loses a point for trying to flee work when discovered by her peers) OTHER NOTES: use extreme caution

EVERY OTHER CHARACTER IN THE SERIES THAT HAS A MAID-THEMED CARD IN THE MOBILE GAME(S) IS A MAID: No OTHER NOTES: SHUT UP DERX LEAVE ME ALONE

==================

TOUHOU PROJECT

RUUKOTO IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 10/10 PROFESSIONALISM: ??/10 (has no spoken dialogue nor personality to go off of) COMPETENCE: 0/10 (is noted to be bad at performing domestic tasks) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: ??/10 (is nuclear powered; while she could be harboring massive latent powers she poses a huge risk if she were to detonate) DEVOTION: 10/10 (is a good noodle) OTHER NOTES: she is probably my blog mascot in another timeline

SAKUYA IZAYOI IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 8/10 (while mostly fine, she still has a rather short skirt in the fighting games) PROFESSIONALISM: 10/10 COMPETENCE: 8/10 (loses a point for every time she lost to the mc during the events of eosd; gains a point for running the mc off if playing on easy) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 DEVOTION: 10/10 OTHER NOTES: alice's quicksilver is more fun to use than marisa's thousand knives but is infinitely worse for speedrunning so you never see it

YUMEKO IS A MAID: Yes MODESTY: 10/10 PROFESSIONALISM: 10/10 COMPETENCE: 9/10 (loses a point for losing to the mc during the events of mystic square) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 (throws swords) DEVOTION: 10/10 OTHER NOTES: superior maid

==================

HYPERDIMENSION NEPTUNIA

FINANCIER IS A MAID: No MODESTY: 10/10 PROFESSIONALISM: 10/10 COMPETENCE: ??/10 (is not actually a maid) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: ??/10 (has not been playable DEVOTION: ??/10 (i think she was evil in the original neptunia and then was good in the re:birth series) OTHER NOTES: cute

==================

HONORABLE MENTION AS I TYPED THIS UP AND REALIZED ANGEL MORT IS A RESTAURANT, NOT A MAID CAFE, BUT DO NOT WISH TO REMOVE THE WORK I PUT INTO THE SECTION:

HIGURASHI NO NAKU KORO NI SHION SONOZAKI IS A MAID: No (works part time at a maid cafe) MODESTY: 3/10 (this isn't even a maid costume anymore) PROFESSIONALISM: 10/10 COMPETENCE: 10/10 (is almost indistinguishable from mion when she tries) COMBAT PROFICIENCY: 10/10 (is trained in handling firearms due to her family connections) DEVOTION: 10/10 (she is a good noodle in a bad situation) OTHER NOTES: higurashi was among the first anime i watched and was a powerful formative experience on me

[jawnjendes]

i’m not usually like this | shawn mendes

university au, shawn x goth gf

if theres anything you wanna see happen in this series, let me know!

masterlist | series playlist

It all started because he asked a simple question. “Do you ever wear anything that isn't black?”

I've heard this question many times in my life, from family members, to coworkers, to strangers in my classes. The context in which Shawn asked me, however, was different than normal; He was pulling off my sweatpants and noticed my dark underwear. I told him to shut up and proceeded to ride him into oblivion.

When I wasn't surrounding myself with a brick wall to keep me safe, when I was not being stone cold and expressionless, I was quite the sex fiend. I'll take it anytime, and just about anywhere. I mean, you already know the story of those three hours Shawn and I spent in my bedroom, knowing that my roommate was home. That's not even the worst of it. We've had sex in his car, my car, outside my car, my living room, his kitchen, a bar bathroom, and a stranger's dorm room.

Listen… Shawn Mendes is a man of many talents. If he wasn't my boyfriend, he would be a fuck buddy.

Anyway, he liked to tease me about my wardrobe choices just as much as he liked to praise me. Sometimes he would ask who I’m about to sacrifice to the dark lord, and other times he would thirst over my black skirt and tights. Even better, sometimes he put on his black floral shirt as an attempt to match my ensemble. But this story is about his teasing.

After going at it for an hour at his apartment (my thighs were incredibly fatigued and shaky), I had to get ready for work. It was easy to get out of Shawn's hold since he was so loose and sleepy. As soon as I was ready, I kissed him goodbye and left his apartment in spirits so high it was considered abnormal for me. How did I know it was abnormal? My manager kept pointing out how chipper I was as I answered phones and helped customers. When people notice, that’s when you know things are changing.

It wasn't until I stopped by Walmart after my shift did Shawn's words sink in. I do wear black all the goddamn time. My closet is 99% black t-shirts, button ups, pants, leggings, and even underwear! The 1% is when I'm slacking on doing my laundry, that's when I would wear white.

That's not to say I don't like other colors. I used to experiment with bleaching my hair and dying it blue or green. I was a sucker for neon eyeshadow, and I was an absolute slut for red lipstick. Things are fluid, nothing is ever set in stone.

I looked through some of the clothing racks, but it’s Walmart, so nothing really stood out to me. Then I found myself in the underwear department. I was trying not to laugh at myself in front of other shoppers, because this was mildly insane. Was I really considering buying Walmart lingerie to prove a point to my boyfriend? There were some decent options after all.

My eye caught a black, sheer nightgown with a matching g-string. I studied it for a minute before deciding that I had a lot of black lace already, and half of it wasn't even intimate apparel. The next set I noticed was a simple sheer bra and underwear, also black. Getting there, but it wasn't enough. There weren't any in my size, anyway. I dug through the racks until I spotted something girly.

The first thing that put me off was that it was pink… baby pink. It was another nightie, but it was made of sheer tulle instead of lace. There were little pink and red hearts all over the skimpy fabric, and it came with a lace thong. It was cute, but it was the least Me thing here. On any other day, I would not be caught dead wearing anything pastel.

That's exactly why I ended up taking it home.

I quickly raced back to my dorm, feeling like I had some dangerous weapon hiding in the bag I was carrying. I didn't stop to speak to anyone I knew, and I was very glad that Shawn wasn't currently on campus. However, he did text me asking me to spend the weekend at his place. It only added to the butterflies in my stomach.

“Stella!” I frantically called once I had shut myself in my room.

She came practically running, bursting through the door. “What happened? Who died? Oh - oh my god.”

I was facing the full body mirror that was leaning against the wall. I tried on the daring piece of lingerie, testing it out on whoever was willing to see me like this. Stella was the only person who had seen me in my underwear apart from my boyfriend. However, I still had the decency to cover my breasts with my hands because the nightgown showed a bit too much.

“You trying to seduce me, ‘cause it's working,” Stella teased, wiggling her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

“Listen!” I turned to face her, trying to justify my outfit choice. “This was probably a stupid idea! It, it was an impulsive buy!”

“Dude, if he sees you in this, you're gonna end up pregnant.”

“Don't say that!” I looked down and twirled my body from side to side, watching the fabric swirl. I felt and looked a little too nervous.

“Seriously, you look hot. Just, y'know, maybe skip the heavy eyeliner and add more perfume. He'll link the scent to the time he had the best sex of his life.”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “I'll do the perfume thing, but I can't skip eyeliner. I need something to make up for all the pink I'm wearing.”

Stella nodded. “Yeah, that's another thing. I know this is something you wear when you wanna get dicked down, but you look so soft and adorable!”

“Shit, if you keep saying things like that I just might spend the night with you instead.”

~

It was night by the time I was at Shawn's apartment. He was in the middle of songwriting, and he wasn't alone. His friend, Teddy, was over. I guess she helped him write sometimes. The two of them were singing to themselves and throwing potential lyrics back and forth at each other. Teddy was frequently writing on a scrap of paper or typing on her laptop. Shawn was strumming his guitar, and sometimes he would glance at me and wink.

I sat silently on the couch and half listened to them brainstorm. I was glad I decided not to leave my Switch at home.

“You're so quiet, is something wrong?” Teddy pointed out. I don't know why I wasn't expecting it.

“Don't wanna bother the artists at work,” I said, keeping my eyes on my intense game of Smash Bros.

“She's like that,” Shawn told his friend. “She'll warm up eventually.”

“That makes me sound like an asshole,” I replied with a chuckle, and then I gasped as my character on screen got knocked out.

Still, I remained quiet as they continued their session. I stayed in the same spot on the couch, curled up and thoroughly entertained. Shawn insisted I sit closer though, considering that I was on the opposite end of the couch from him. He liked my company I suppose, even if I wasn't speaking.

Eventually, Teddy got her things together and left. She gave me a hug, said it was nice to meet me, and then gave Shawn a look that said “have fun you two.”

When we were finally alone, I went into Shawn's room, telling him I wanted to change into my pajamas. It was sort of true, I mean. I grabbed my overnight bag and dashed into the en suite bathroom. Normally, I would have started with taking off whatever makeup I had on, but I only had on some intimidating winged liner and mascara. I needed that tonight.

Fixing up my hair and spritzing on a ridiculous amount of perfume helped keep my nerves at bay. My stomach fluttered when I pulled out the frilly pink item of clothing. This just might be my demise.

Once I was dressed, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and placed my hands on my hips. A wise lady in a hospital drama said standing like a superhero helps increase confidence, so that's what I did. I tried to channel my inner dominatrix, despite the fact that I was probably very far from being just that.

“I'm a strong lady,” I whispered to myself, then I huffed out a breath.

I ruffled my hair one last time before going to the door. I had my hand on the knob, but I could hear the sounds outside this very room. I could hear Shawn's footsteps, I heard the bed creak as he sat down. I heard the sounds of his guitar.

My heart started to race. It was ready to beat out of my chest.

I don't know why the first thing I thought to do when I finally opened the door was to unattractively clear my throat. It's not like Shawn wouldn't notice if I quietly left the bathroom.

He looked up from his guitar, and it took a second for him to process what he was looking at. His eyes lit up, and his jaw went slack.

Awkwardly, I placed one hand on the doorway and the other on my hip. I didn't know what to do with my face, so I slapped on the mock composure. I looked at my boyfriend, unsure if I should say something or not.

“No way,” Shawn finally spoke, a grin forming on his face. He set down his guitar and moved so he was sitting at the foot of the bed. “Come here…”

His eyes were moving up and down my body as I timidly stepped towards him. The look on his face was full of surprise and wonder, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. I mean, I was in skimpy attire and none of it was dark. Anyone who knew me wouldn't believe it.

Shawn took my hands when I was close enough, and he shamelessly checked me out. His eyes stuck on my tits just long enough to raise the tension in the room.

I was still finding my voice. I was probably more flustered than he was.

“You're too cute,” he told me, finally looking at my face. “When did you get this?”

“Today,” I said softly. “I don't know, I looked for something black… this was all I could find in my size.”

“I'm really glad you went with this. You're so cute. The pink makes you look almost innocent. Turn around for me.”

A shy smile crept up on my face as I slowly spun around. I quickly came to realize that I was willing to do just about anything he wanted. Wow, and I thought I was going to have power tonight.

“So adorable,” Shawn mused when I was facing him again. “You're the cutest fucking thing ever, you know that?”

My roommate had said similar things, but it hit me different hearing it from my boyfriend. My face was probably redder than the hearts on this stupid nightie, and Shawn could probably see that.

“I don't wanna be cute,” I mumbled, looking down at our hands. “I wanna be sexy.”

“Trust me, you're very sexy. I, I don't even know what to do. That's why I keep talking. God, you're so pretty.” His hand went up and stroked my cheek.

Stop fucking talking and just take me already!

The only way I could express that was by bringing Shawn's hands to my waist, giving him permission to touch me wherever the fuck he wanted. His breathing picked up a little more as he ran his hands down to my lower hips, reaching around to grab my ass.

I delicately placed my hands on his shoulders, and he leaned in to kiss my collarbones. He kept mumbling about how pretty I was, and it made me feel some kinda way. I could feel just how hot his body was getting being so close to mine, it made me even hotter. His hands moved up to my stomach, moving under the nightie, and running along my skin. My body felt so alive and ablaze.

“Your heart's going fast,” he pointed out, placing a hand on my chest. “You nervous?”

I nodded. “More than I'd like to admit.”

He smiled warmly, and then showed me his hands. Seeing them tremble gave me some kind of relief and an ounce of confidence. I made him feel like that. He was turned on because of me.

Shawn stopped me when I grabbed the ends of my nightie to take it off. “No. Leave it on.”

“Really?” I asked. “Won’t it be in the way or something?”

He shook his head, looking up at me with something like desperation in his eyes.  “I… wanna do unspeakable things to you in this thing. We're leaving it on. Now get your ass on the bed.”

I would have fainted if he hadn't given me an order.

[serendipitouscontaminant]

@intearsaboutrobots asked oh g o s h, how bout forgetting to eat and ray (he's very busy ! doing science !)

This is for Bad Things Happen Bingo. This is my card. 

Bingo square: Forgetting to eat 

Content notes for grief and canon character death. Strangely enough, this is 70% comedy.

____

Guess We’ll Never Know

Ray is doing science.

Normal.

Ray is doing science in silence, literally locked in the lab.

Less normal? That's debatable, apparently. 

Nate is convinced there’s something fishy going on here. Sara agrees. Zari and Mick both say to just leave Ray to do his thing. He’s a scientist, of course he’s going to lock himself in the lab sometimes, it’s not that weird. Nate and Sara counter that, yeah, that might be a stereotypical scientist thing, but it’s not a Ray thing. Ray loves spending time with other people, and he’s gung ho about living healthy, and when he gets really, possibly unhealthily, into something science-related, he usually at least tries to talk someone’s ear off about it.

He’s not the kind of guy who locks himself in his lab for nearly a week when there’s absolutely nothing even vaguely life-threatening going on, other than the Legends all living on the same ship, which might count.

Zari says that they’re being overbearing and they should just let Ray do what he does best, he can take care of himself and she could swear that she’s seen him in the halls a few times, probably going to get food or something.

This leads to the whole team trading Ray sightings and arguing as to whether they’re actually just making things up, right until Nate points out that they’re acting like Ray’s Bigfoot or something, and once you can switch out a conversation about your teammate with a conversation about a cryptid just by changing a single detail, in this case said teammate’s name, there’s a good reason to worry. He has a point, Constantine, who has no dog in this fight and has been playing both sides for a lark, says.

Mick says that this is all stupid, and walks away. Classic Mick.

However, in spite of Mick’s unceremonious exit, it can comfortably be said that at this point all opinions have been swayed towards ‘we should be worried.’

Well, not Constantine’s, because he cannot emphasize enough how he has no dog in this fight. He saves dogs for people he really cares about, and none of the Legends are there yet other than Sara. He quite likes Sara.

In spite of this doglessness, Constantine is the one to check on Ray, mostly because everyone else is debating on how to best check on Ray even though they could always just ask Gideon how he’s doing or go down there with no fanfare, two options that they have helpfully forgotten—much like how they have forgotten to be reasonable or efficient over what should quite frankly be low-stress decisions for a prolonged length of time—in the name of the continuation of the narrative.

Besides, they’re stir crazy without any actual missions. They’ll argue about anything at this point, and since Ray hasn’t been around (a pressing issue), there’s nobody to, say, arrange a catastrophic game night, which would at least get out everyone’s pent up energy.

…This is mostly because, while Constantine is a surprisingly affable and competent board gamer, he wins every game, and Mick is a terrible loser, Sara is a terrible loser, Zari is easily frustrated and also a terrible loser, Ray has the rules to literally every board game in existence memorized word-for-word and will not budge on them, and Nate, for all his ability to remember every single major fire in the United States since its inception, secretly still doesn’t really know how to play Monopoly, and is not above knocking the entire board to the floor to keep anyone from finding out his dark secret, even though fessing up would possibly spare everyone from having to play Monopoly, which would quite frankly be one of those acts of everyday heroism the Huffington Post is always on about.

(Mick knows about Nate’s Monopoly problem, though. How? Unclear. Mick just knows a lot of things. Why does Mick not tell? A mystery.)

Anyway, Constantine goes to see how Dr. Palmer’s getting on, mostly because he, like everyone else on the game nightless ship, is very bored and has nothing better to do. He is also a bit curious. He also feels a vague sense of doom about the whole situation, though that may just be the vague sense of doom he feels roughly one hundred percent of the time.

When he steps into the lab, he finds papers tossed everywhere, three whiteboards (well, ‘whiteboards’ is a little generous for what are more large plexiglass rectangles covered in scribbles, but that is not an issue at the front of John’s mind), and no less than thirteen empty cans of a drink called ‘Monster’.

He takes a step inside the lab (a can of Monster crunching underfoot), meaning to make his presence known to Ray, who currently has his back to him and is writing some equation on a fourth and comically large high fashion not whiteboard. (Too long, John has better things to do than think all those words over something so stupid.)

John is not sure when exactly this whiteboard was created or whether it did in fact exist before Ray went into this fit, because it really is excessively enormous, given that Ray is standing on a stool to scrawl mumbo jumbo on it, and Ray is six foot three.

“Hello, Dr. Palmer,” John says genially, only not fazed by this situation due to the fact that he consistently deals with different, more life-and-limb-threatening situations that border on the absurd, or catapult over the border and into the wide field of ‘what in the bloody fucking world is even happening, look like you know what you’re doing, John, you fear nothing’. He gauges that to be genuinely fazed, the cans of Monster would have to become actual small monsters.

Ray jumps and yet somehow doesn’t fall from his perch, even when he twists around to look at John, though he does sway dangerously, and John steps forward experimentally, wondering exactly how squished he will get if he tries to catch Dr. Palmer once the man inevitably loses his battle with gravity.

Ray’s hair is mussed and unwashed, his fetching chin is covered in stubble, his clothes are several days old, he’s shaking, and his eyes are full of the pure manic energy of a man who does not consistently drink large amounts of caffeine, and yet has made the unfortunate and currently inexplicable decision to replace half his blood with energy drinks.

“Constantine!” he says, voice both welcoming and edgy. His smile is so wide that John can see just about all of his teeth. The smile, paired with the general mad scientist vibe he’s emitting, makes him look like a serial killer, the kind that dresses his victims in fun outfits and then poses them in a whimsical manner while leading the police on a wild goose chase. He will never be brought to justice. “How’s it going?”

“You’ve been here for nearly a week,” John says. “Your friends are both worried and being utterly inconvenient about it.”

“A week,” Ray says, vibrating. “Wow!”

These are the last words he says before his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he falls to the floor.

John is briefly on high alert, given that eyes rolling into the back of the head is not a good sign in his line of work, but he quickly realizes that the good doctor is lying quite still and is happily unpossessed.

Wow indeed.

John wanders over to him to see if he’s just out cold or dead. He is thankfully just out cold, because even John would feel bad if Ray were dead. His gluten free cupcakes really aren’t so bad, and he very much enjoys winning all the games. He never wins against Gary.

Ray’s pulse is impressively fast. “Gideon, dear,” John says, “I think the others may want to see this.”

“Way ahead of you, Mr. Constantine,” Gideon says.

Of course.

It takes a matter of minutes—more than one, but less than five—for the others to rush in. Well, Mick doesn’t rush in so much as amble, brow furrowed in what might be annoyance and might be concern. (It’s both.)

Ray wakes up in under five minutes, which is good. He’s bleary-eyed and rubbing his head, and he’s discombobulated enough that he doesn’t really protest when Nate and Mick bodily drag him out of the lab, though he does give his enormous whiteboard a sad look, as if saying goodbye and promising to come back soon.

John stays behind, surveying the lab. He suspects that whatever happens in the medbay will involve feelings he’s not particularly interested in, so his work here is done.

In the medbay, Ray has finally found his voice again, and his voice isn’t happy about the saline drip he’s getting. He and his miraculously nonexistent concussion would rather take some laps around the ship.

“Actually, Dr. Palmer, I would suggest you eat,” Gideon says.

“Pish posh!” an actual human being named Ray Palmer says with zero irony. “You keep telling me that!”

“Because it keeps being true,” Gideon replies, dry as the toast that Ray could at least have tried to force down the past several mornings.

It turns out that, much like Bigfoot sightings, the Ray sightings were the product of wishful thinking. He really had not existed outside of the lab for all that time except to go to the bathroom. He even had Gideon make him seven six packs of Monster before going in.

And yet no food or water.

When Nate points out that astonishing oversight after hearing that Ray did prepare himself for his science fit, sort of, Ray shrugs sheepishly. “I forgot.”

“You, Mr. Three Square Meals a Day, just straight up forgot?”

“Yeah. There’s...I don’t have another answer, I really did.”

“Okay, so why did you go full absent-minded professor?”

Ray doesn’t answer the question, though a troubled look does flit across his face for about five point two seconds.

Instead, he decides to go back to the food thing.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Ray says, clearly in a vaguely dreamlike and yet incredibly awake state. “I’ve transcended it.”

There is a beat as the others process the non sequitur and general insanity of that statement, and then chaos as everyone starts talking over each other about how stupid that very thought is, right up until Zari’s voice manages to break through.

“You’ve transcended hunger?” Zari parrots for about the third time. “Ray, take it from someone who knows—you’re just starving.”

“I feel kind of sick, actually,” Ray says in a polite rebuttal. “So there’s that.”

“Raymond, of course you feel sick, you’ve been overworking yourself and living off caffeine,” Nate says, all long-suffering hypocrisy.

“Oh, as if you don’t do the exact same thing, Mr. Do As I Say Not As I Do.”

“Yeah, I’m vetoing that nickname. And seriously, this isn’t really like you.”

“Actually, I was totally like this. I mean, I’ve been totally like this before. I missed work because I was so focused on work.”

“Yeah, but you’ve kind of...grown out of that. Or at least you weren’t like this about it other than when you were all imposter syndrome about your suit. I mean, buddy, I get being obsessed with your work, but you fainted. You’ve been mainlining energy drinks. It’s been six days. Even when you get weird and obsessed, you usually at least interact with...anyone. And energy drinks are like...caffeine and sugar. You somehow think both of those things are bad for you. Also, it’s been six days. This isn’t Ray behavior.”

“Oh, like you really know me,” Ray snaps.

His outburst causes only vague confusion. “...I do really know you, Ray. We all do.  We’re on the same ship and the same team. We have literally met you as a child.”

Ray flounders. “Okay, you might have a point. But I’m just...this is important! I’m brushing up on nuclear physics! I mean, not that I’m not good at nuclear physics, I’m possibly amazing—it’s healthy to recognize your own talents—but I’ve really been leaning on the engineering side lately, not so much the theoretical, and now without...” he trails off and swallows hard. “Without Marty, I’m catching up. There are some questions I never got to ask him and now...” his voice breaks, and he runs a shaking hand through his greasy hair, “I have to figure them out myself.”

Silence settles over the room like a shroud, and Sara, without even thinking, looks over at the corner of the room where no one is, half expecting to see a familiar form sighing in a put upon way and pacing back and forth like a ruffled chicken.

Maybe Stein could’ve talked some sense into Ray.

Sara clears her throat and Nate looks down at the floor and Zari looks up at the ceiling in the way people do when they’re trying not to cry and Mick just stares at nothing because he’s staring at memories instead—he and the professor made a weird amount of memories in this medbay—and Ray swipes at his eyes.  “If he was still alive, I could just use the temporal communicator to ask him, but he’s not, and I never got to ask him, and I don’t know if I’ll ever figure it all out.”

“He had more...time, Ray,” Sara says, and the words sound so ridiculous (he didn’t get enough time, he didn’t) she wants to laugh until she cries and then probably never stop crying, for Martin and Rip and Leonard and Laurel and even Jax, so far away and with half of him dead and gone. She doesn’t do any of that. She soldiers on. “He had more time to get it all figured out, and when you have...more time, so will you.”

And eventually, she absolutely does not say because no one says it, you’ll have even more time than he did, if everything turns out right.

Ray laughs a little. “That implies that I’ll ever be as good at theoretical nuclear physics as Marty.”

“Maybe you won’t be,” Zari chimes in. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not a genius and it doesn’t mean you’ll, what? Let us all down because you’re not him? You’re not him. You’re you.”

“He’s never coming back,” Mick offers in a grumbling undertone from where he’s leaning against the far wall. “You can’t replace dead people, and you suck at trying.”

He meets Ray’s eyes, and Ray remembers that time that they tried. He manages a smile. “I know.”

He sighs heavily and says, “I really went off the rails for a second there, didn’t I?”

Sara shrugs. “Happens to all of us.”

“I should eat,” Ray admits. “I can’t believe I forgot. I mean, I can, but that’s why I have alarms.”

“What happened to those?” Nate asks.

“I think I spilled Monster on my phone.��

“That checks out.” Nate heaves out a sigh. “Okay. Let’s go to the kitchen, big guy. You can go back to bothering us about three square meals again. And water intake.”

Ray agrees, because hydration is very important, no matter what the Ray who’d forgotten that Marty wasn’t actually just a call away seemed to think, and he only sways a little on his feet when he stands up after getting the saline drip out.

Constantine is in the kitchen when the rest of the team traipses in, sprawled on a chair and reading some kind of velvet-bound tome with his feet propped up on one of the other chairs. He looks up at the other Legends and says, “Ah, you’re back, then?”

Ray attempts one of his usual smiles, but it takes more work than usual. “I’m back.”

He wanders to the middle of the kitchen and just kind of stands there while the others wait for him to have a cardiac event or maybe pass out again.

Instead:

“What should I eat?” Ray asks the world at large, waffling. He really is not hungry, and he really does feel kind of sick to his stomach, like one might after drinking eighteen cans of a brand of energy drink he remembered seeing on a billboard in Star City.

“Waffles?” Nate suggests. “It’s breakfast.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, bro. Six days after last time you ate breakfast.”

Ray sighs and murmurs, probably to himself, “I just haven’t been able to figure it out without him.”

Nate and Sara share a look. It’s not a happy look. Trace amounts of the absences on the ship have traveled into every part of it, including the oxygen, and sometimes it hurts just to breathe.

“Grapefruit,” Ray says decisively, distracting everyone from their separate waves of grief for just a moment. “I want grapefruit.”

Very suddenly, everyone realizes that they also kind of want grapefruit, even though none of them can remember the last time they had it. Still, all of them—other than Constantine, who’s feeling a bit odd about the whole vibe in the kitchen right now, from Mick’s surprisingly glossy eyes to the way that Gideon’s already prepared a giant bowl of that infernal fruit even before Zari comes around to ask for it—know exactly where the craving is coming from.

(It’s an attempt to at least calm that empty ache in their stomachs that isn’t hunger, the one for Martin, because grief makes everything revolve around what—who—just isn’t anymore and somehow still is everything, like all of them have become planets orbiting a black hole, only surviving getting sucked in and pulled to pieces by a miracle of metaphorical pseudoscience, or maybe just each other.)

Zari plops the huge bowl of grapefruit halves down on the table, and Ray’s the first to take one. He digs his spoon into the fruit and sighs in pleasure when he takes a bite, clearly coming to the realization that his miraculous lack of hunger paired with queasiness is indeed actually the feeling one gets when starving. He gets through two grapefruits before he slows down at all.

All of them realize, while eating their breakfast, that, objectively, they don’t like grapefruit.

It’s still somehow delicious—though, Mick says critically, his is a little tart.

(They would all be horrified if they knew that somewhere on their Earth lives a woman—one they know and love, even!—who eats her grapefruit with salt, but there’s no one here who can share that particular little anecdote, and so the story goes untold.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898194