#usually we get fed late afternoon on fridays | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

twst-bs · 3 years

Text

TWST Vice Dorm Leaders and a Stressed-out MC

I couldn't leave out the Vice Dorm Leaders! I'm just used to working in chunks of seven because of my Obey Me! writing. I'll do a piece for all of the other characters as well!

Note: I wrote most of these to be ambiguous, but Ortho's in meant to be read as platonic. I just wanted to give the little dude some love.

-----

Trey: "Do you not like it?"

They only just barely managed to catch their fork before it clattered against the plate. With everything going through their head at a mile a minute, they had completely forgotten what they were supposed to be doing.

“No! I mean, yes, I like it!” they stumbled over their words, pasting a hopefully-convincing grin on their face.

“Really?” Trey fixed them with a knowing look and they felt themselves wither beneath it. “Because you only took one bite before staring off into middle distance.”

“Oh,” their grin turned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Something on your mind?” he asked, taking a seat on the stool across from them. “You’re awfully quiet.”

Damn it, they had really hoped Trey wouldn’t figure them out. Or at least take more than ten minutes.

The pressure had been mounting lately. Trying to stay on top of impossible classes, watching over Grimm, the ever-looming problem of them not being able to go back to their own world and the moral dilemma of if they even wanted to go back...they had a lot of things on their mind, and they didn’t even know where to start.

This was supposed to be a light-hearted little night in. Trey had found a new recipe he wanted to try out, and they were always willing to be the taste-tester. But, of course, good old anxiety had decided to drop in and ruin the fun, and the cute date night had turned south before it had even really begun.

“Hey, easy,” Trey’s voice cut through the fog that was slowly descending over their brain. “I know that face. Will talking about it help or hurt?”

“...I don’t know,” they mumbled, setting their fork down. “I’m sorry, Trey, I -”

“Nope.” he reached across the kitchen island and gently slipped his hand beneath theirs. They squeezed it back, letting him run his thumb over their knuckles as they tried to fight down the panic that threatened to burst from within. “No apologies are necessary. Take your time.”

“But I ruined our date,” they sighed, shoulders slumping. “Just because I couldn’t get out of my own head for a few hours.”

“Riddle couldn’t get out of his own head for almost two decades, and I’m still friends with him.” Trey chuckled. “Your mental well-being is more important than a silly date night. You can talk to me about anything, any time, anywhere, and I won’t be angry with you, promise.”

“...Can I still have the cake?”

“Yes, you can still have the cake.”

Ruggie: It had been another long night.

Sleepless nights were a pretty common occurrence for the Ramshackle Prefect, unfortunately. Even if they were dead tired at the end of the day, they often tossed and turned the whole night, managing maybe a few hours of sleep at best. Which often led to days like this.

They could barely keep their eyes open, even as they walked to their next class. They were on autopilot, going through their daily motions. The books in their bag felt like they might as well be boulders, and the thought of climbing the stairs made them want to cry. Their legs felt like lead.

“Gotcha!”

They definitely didn’t scream when a pair of lithe arms wrapped around their middle. No way, you have no proof.

“Sheesh, herbivore, you’re loud.” Ruggie snickered, hooking his chin over their shoulder. “You could wake the dead like that. Is that how you wake up the ghosts in your dorm?”

“Ruggie, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Your fault for not payin’ attention!” He gave them a fond squeeze around the middle before letting them go. “I’ve been walkin’ behind you since you left your class. You wouldn’t survive a day in the Savannah, walkin’ around with your head in the clouds like that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, instead of stalking me like a creep?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ruggie cackled. However, his snarky grin dropped from his face when he got a good look at them. “Hey, you aren’t lookin’ so good.”

“Didn’t sleep very well,” they shrugged, readjusting the strap on their bag so it wasn’t digging into their shoulder. Ruggie scowled, eyes narrowing.

“Again?”

They stuck their tongue out at him. “It’s not like I do it on purpose.”

The hyena stared at them for a little bit longer before sighing. “I guess it can’t be helped. Come on.” he grabbed their wrist, tugging them in the opposite direction of their next class.

“Hey, where are we going?”

“Back to Ramshackle,” Ruggie said lightly.

“Oh, but you scold Leona when he skips?” they poked him in the side with their free hand, and he squirmed away.

“Leona doesn’t need three afternoon naps,” the hyena sniggered. “You look like you could use a coma.”

Jade: “Thank you again for helping out.”

Their arms felt like jelly. Their legs were about ready to fall off. Their face hurt from having to put on a fake smile for the past few hours.

“No problem!” they said brightly. The fake smile could last a few more minutes. “I guess Floyd can’t give you guys more notice when he decides to skip his shift, huh?”

“No, Floyd does what he wants, when he wants.” Jade chuckled lightly, wiping his hands on the towel draped over his arm. Friday nights at the lounge were always busy, so of course that was when Floyd decided he didn’t want to work. Mostro Lounge didn’t have that many options, so Jade had called and asked them if they would mind helping out.

Honestly, they should have said no. They were tired, they had a lot of homework to do, and they honestly just needed a night to themselves for once. But, the thought of letting someone down triggered a deep and primal fear in them, and before they even really knew what they were doing, they had agreed. And here they were.

“...would you like?”

They had to stop themselves from physically shaking themselves out of their trance. “What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Jade raised an eyebrow, but politely decided not to comment. “One of the rules at the Lounge is that those who work that day get a free meal after their shift. I asked what you would like.”

“Oh! Um, I’m fine, really, I wouldn’t want to -” their stomach chose that moment to disagree, grumbling loudly in protest of not being fed. How long had it been since lunch? Had they even eaten lunch?

“Both I and your stomach insist, it seems.” Jade pulled out his waiter’s pad. “You’ve earned a meal for your hard work.”

“But -”

“You aren’t troubling anyone.” Jade cut in, seemingly more in tune with their thoughts than they were. “And I wouldn’t have been angry with you if you had turned down my request for help.”

“How did you -”

“Now, what would you like to eat?”

The two of them stood at an impasse for a moment.

“...the tomato basil bisque and grilled cheese sounded good.”

Jamil: “You’re going to chop your fingers off.”

They almost hit the ceiling when Jamil’s hand covered their own. They hadn’t even realized their hands had been shaking until his warm palm steadied theirs.Gently, carefully, he brought the knife down onto the vegetables they were chopping in a nice, clean cut.

“You don’t have to help if you aren’t feeling well.” Jamil took the knife from their hands, setting it down on the cutting board. Kalim had spontaneously announced another one of Scarabia’s famous parties, and of course that left most of the prep work to Jamil. Although Kalim was at least handling the decorations this time. Baby steps.

When they heard the news a few days prior, they had offered to help, and Jamil had practically deflated with relief. Every time Kalim held a party at the dorm, Jamil felt like a zombie for at least the next day and a half. They had personally seen him take a basketball to the face because he had been so tired. Although that might have been Floyd messing with him.

But, of course, when they woke up the day of the party, something had felt off. Nothing in particular had caused them to feel strange, but it could have been a bunch of little things. Regardless of the cause, it was a day best spent alone, dealing with the random anxiety. But, they had made a promise, and even though they wanted to back out, said anxiety also wouldn’t let them for fear of inconveniencing someone even a little bit.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” they grinned, shaking their wrist out. “Just spent a bit too long working on Trein’s homework. I’m pretty sure you get better grades if you write long paragraphs.”

“The trick is to make them long and unnecessarily fancy,” Jamil’s lips quirked upwards as he hip-checked them out of the way. “And don’t think you can distract me.”

“Damn it.”

Jamil shook his head. “Don’t push yourself so hard.”

“Pot meet kettle, Jamil.”

“I’m serious.” he leveled them with a steely look that had them feeling like a child getting scolded. “Honestly, with all of the stuff you do for everyone, I’m surprised you haven’t cracked yet.”

“...Me too, honestly.”

“See? Give yourself a break every once in a while.”

“Only if you do, too, Mr. I-Don’t-Need-Any-Help.”

His stern look softened until he was smiling fondly at them, warmth in his eyes. “Deal.”

Rook: “Non, non, this is unacceptable.”

They had heard Rook’s footsteps as he approached, which meant he wanted them to notice him. Otherwise he would have been completely silent.

Hand still on the spine of the book they were attempting to ease out of the tightly-packed library shelves, they turned to look at him. “What’s unacceptable?”

“The hunch to your shoulders, mon bijou.” the hunter swept dramatically into the light. “The sallowness of your skin. The shadows beneath your eyes!”

“Rook…”

“You look very tired, my dear.” Rook dropped his usual flamboyant act, approaching them with concern shining in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Just…” after a moment, they turned to him and rapped their knuckles lightly against their head. “A lot going on up here, you know?”

“I do,” Rook nodded. “You have many things to be worrying about, don’t you?.”

He stepped forward, grasping both of their hands in his. They were trembling lightly, since when had that started?

“You know I pride myself in being a protector of all things beautiful,” Rook gave their hands a squeeze. “And seeing your beautiful heart burdened so...it is my duty to ease it’s weight. So please, if there is anything I can do to help, tell me.”

Ortho: “Sorry for bothering you like this, Ortho.”

The little robot-boy smiled. “It’s no problem! I’m glad to help! Something as simple as a body scan is no trouble.”

The two of them were sat in the Ignihyde lounge. It was late enough that most of the dorm members had holed themselves up in their rooms - Ignihyde wasn’t known for its social butterflies, after all. But Ortho had still been up and about when the Ramshackle Prefect came knocking.

The infirmary closed around 5pm, although there was a nurse on-call for emergencies. So when something was wrong with a student, but not necessarily life threatening, they went to NRC’s resident robot. Ortho could scan for most problems in seconds, and more than once the nurses had asked to borrow him.

The little scanner on his chest opened up. The blue light swept over the Prefect’s body for a few seconds before Ortho beeped and the light disappeared.

“Heart rate: 102. No physical cause detected.” he reported. “It looks like you’re a little bit stressed.”

“...Yeah, that tracks.” they sighed. “I guess there’s nothing you can do for general anxiety, huh?”

“I don’t think so.” Ortho shrugged, looking sad. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help more.”

“It’s okay!” the Prefect smiled. “You did help! I was worried I was sick or something.”

Ortho still didn’t look satisfied. “But...ah!” he hit his fist against his palm. They could practically see the lightbulb go off in his head. Actually, they were a little surprised Idia had not installed that feature yet. “There is one thing I can do.”

“What’s that?”

The Prefect made a soft “oof” sound as Ortho darted forward and wrapped his arms around them. He was a little cold, being made of metal, but the thought was there.

“Internet research says that sometimes a hug can make people feel better. Does it work? I hope it works.”

They felt like they were going to cry. Or explode. Or both. “Yeah, I think it works.”

Lilia: “You don’t need to look so stressed, you know.”

Lilia laughed when the Ramshackle Prefect jumped, fangs poking out. “You’ve wound yourself so tightly, I wonder if you’ll break.”

To be fair, the Diasomnia lounge could be quite intimidating. It often took first years a few solid months to be comfortable in it. So Lilia wasn’t surprised that the human was ill at ease sitting there as Lilia served the two of them tea.

“That old story about being trapped in the Fae world if you eat their food isn’t true, you know.” Lilia sat down on the couch opposite of them, taking a sip of his tea. “At least, not that I’m aware of.”

The human squirmed slightly, and Lilia sighed. “Go on, drink. This is the type of tea I used to give to Malleus when he couldn’t sleep.”

The image of a baby Malleus being soothed by Lilia was so ridiculously cute that it brought a smile to their face. Lilia hummed happily in response.

“There’s the smile I was looking for.” he set his cup down. “Now, what brings you here so late? Nightmares again?”

“...Yeah…” they sighed, the tension in their body falling away like someone had cut the strings of a marionette. “I just wish they would stop so I could sleep.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” Lilia asked.

“It’s the same one, it’s always the same one.” they groaned, reaching for the tea cup. It smelled of chamomile and lavender, a perfect sleeping concoction. “I’m being chased, but I can’t tell by what, and every time I turn a corner the thing gets closer, and - and -”

“Hush, don’t work yourself up.” he moved from his spot on the couch to sit next to them. “Take a drink, there’s a good child.”

They took a sip of tea, focusing on the feeling of warmth down their throat as a way to ground themselves to the present. “I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t apologize,” Lilia murmured, reaching up to pet their hair. “Drink your tea, now, and I’ll make sure you get some sleep.”

#twisted wonderland #disney's twisted wonderland #twst trey #twst ruggie #twst jade #twst jamil #twst rook #twst ortho #twst lilia

67 notes · View notes

hawkinsindiana · 3 years

Text

this changes things

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR OF ELEVEN (!!)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.3k

a/n: we’re back to eleven chapters baby!!!! this one ended up being longer than i thought. i know i usually post on friday nights, but i couldn’t help but give you all a lil valentine’s day treat. pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve’s nervous.

It’s down to the wire; there's only a few short weeks left of his final high school semester. Four out of five college applications have been rejected. Each one received has fed the anxiety more and more.

Every day that passes without a lick of news from the remaining university has him reconsidering everything. His education. His career. His future.

The only thing Steve knows about his future is that he wants you in it, in whichever form that might be. You’re the constant. Without you, he’s afraid he’d eventually go back to being that person he was before. You make him want to be better. Trying to be worthy of you gives Steve purpose.

He imagined that getting a college education would help keep him on that path. It seems farther away with each rejection letter he receives.

Steve hasn’t told you that he hasn’t gotten into any so far. He’s afraid of disappointing you, especially after everything you’ve done for him.

The spring of ‘85 has been particularly unforgiving. It’s been storming all week - the air still hangs with that familiar smell of rain soaked concrete. You read that the Hawkins Post reported a record amount of rainfall; the local stream overflowed and flooded a few basements.

The mail is still damp when Steve retrieves it after practice. It sticks to his fingers as he shuffles through each envelope, drying his sneakers on the welcome mat.

And then his eyes linger on one addressed to him; Steve nearly drops his backpack when he sees who sent it.

Haphazardly, he tosses the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter as he contemplates whether to even open the damn thing. Steve’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Is it an answer he wants?

Whatever the words inside this parcel read, it changes Steve’s life forever. His future is planned from the moment he breaks the seal - there would be no going back. Either he stays here in Hawkins, trapped by an education he neglected for far too long, or he gets to take a step to distance himself from this shitty town and prove his worth.

Steve isn’t a fan of the former option.

He wishes you were here to read it for him. He’d rather you tell him the news; hearing it come from your lips would make it easier.

By the time Steve decides to open it, a few minutes have passed. Why does this feel like the scariest thing he’s ever done?

Due to the water, some of the ink bled through the paper; pieces of the letter are illegible. But at the top, a familiar phrase answers his question: Unfortunately, we regret to inform you-

Steve curses, angrily throwing the envelope and its contents into the trash. He refuses to read anymore.

He has no one to blame but himself. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry. There were multiple opportunities for him to change course and put effort into his schoolwork. By the time he finally tried, it was too late.

Thunder booms in the distance once Steve parks his car beside your mother’s. He doesn’t remember deciding to come here; the only thing he can recall is grabbing the keys, without a destination in mind. His heart brought him to your warmth.

As Steve gets out of the car, he wonders if this was maybe a bad idea. It isn’t very often that he feels afraid to face you - he’s scared of your reaction, and the outcome that could follow.

He knew that he could love you, that he could fall just as hard as you did for him. But admitting it to himself, and then you - he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again. That phrase has left a sour taste in his mouth, one that Steve hopes he can wash away. Because you deserve to hear it too.

Maybe he’s closer to saying it than he thought, perhaps that’s why he’s so scared to tell you. Maybe-

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Dustin’s voice startles Steve, who turns to see the boy walking his bike up the driveway. Steve fumbles his response, head spinning with thoughts about you, “I don’t, uh-”

Dustin interrupts him, not noticing the nerves Steve displays, “Hey, you should come in! It’s mac ‘n cheese night.”

Steve hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he’s going to follow your brother inside. He can’t say no to this kid.

Dustin hangs up his raincoat once the pair of them enter the house; the bell on Tews’ collar jingles as they run to greet the boys. The kitten weaves between Steve’s legs before he kneels down to give them a few pets.

“That you, Dusty?” Your mother calls from within; clattering silverware echoes from the kitchen. Steve chuckles at the nickname. Dustin punches him in the bicep.

He kicks off his shoes as he replies, “Hey Mom! Get out another bowl - look who I found loitering around.”

Steve scoffs, shoving Dustin as they walk forward through the threshold into the living room. Your mom moves to welcome them; her warm smile widens when she sees Steve by her son’s side, “Well look who it is! Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

He’s baffled by her every time he shares a meal with your family. Her kind soul is infectious, and drastically different from the parents he was raised by. Steve tries not to think about the fact her beloved pet is secretly buried out back - he’s reminded of it whenever he sees her.

“I’m good, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?” Steve answers, returning her grin. She envelops him in a quick hug, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? Just call me Claudia, hon.”

Steve laughs along with her as he follows her to the kitchen, “I think you’ll need to remind me one more time.”

And then his eyes meet yours from across the room. They smile nearly as much as your lips at the sight of him; your heart flutters at this unexpected surprise.

When you catch onto the sadness in his expression, the corners of your mouth drop. It’s obvious to you that something’s wrong. Steve doesn’t usually stop by without an invitation; something must’ve happened.

Throughout dinner, you take mental notes on his deflated behavior. It’s subtle enough to fool your family, but you know him better. With each minute that passes, the more anxious you become to hear the cause. So when he volunteers to help you with the dishes, as he always does, you know it’s only a matter of time.

“How was practice?” You ask before drying off a cup. Steve takes it from your hand as he replies, “Uh, it was good. Although it’s annoying that we’re still practicing even though the season’s over.”

You hum in agreement as he places the glass on the shelf. Steve glances back at you briefly, “What about you? What’d you get up to?”

A beat passes - you’re looking for the words to describe your afternoon. Maybe not the words, but the courage. It’s only when he turns around, brow creased, do you answer him.

“I studied at Nancy’s,” You say. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

You nod your head, focusing your gaze onto the floor, “It was nice, actually. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Now when you say studying…” He trails off for a moment as he thinks, “You two didn’t… exchange notes about me or anything, did you?”

Steve’s growing smirk makes you laugh; you hit him playfully with the towel, “No! And I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

A part of him can’t help but be relieved. There’s no limit to what you two could chat about.

“We just ended up talking about college most of the time,” You add, “She wanted to know some tips since she’ll be applying soon.”

Steve grabs a plate to dry; in order to try and quell his anxiety, he has to do something productive. But your mind recognizes it as a distraction - you’re no stranger to coping mechanisms.

“Have you figured out where you’re gonna go yet?” He questions, praying your answer isn’t far; lightning flashes outside the kitchen window, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder.

You sigh as you lean back against the counter, “I’m not sure. Nancy was helping me talk through my options earlier, but it’s such a big decision to make. I wanna make sure it’s the right fit.”

Steve nods slightly, forehead creasing as he wipes his hands on the towel. And by the way he clenches his jaw at your reply, you know that this is the source of contention.

You nudge his leg with your foot, “What about you? Get any responses back?”

The breath hitches in Steve’s throat; there’s no way this conversation doesn’t end with his reveal. The longer it takes for him to speak, the more concerned you grow.

“I, uh-“ A sigh passes his lips as he grips the counter, keeping his focus away from you. He doesn’t want to witness your reaction.

“I didn’t get in,” Steve mutters. He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief; until now, it almost didn’t seem real. It took admitting it to you for his brain to accept it.

You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. Over the past few weeks, you and Steve had been discussing how your relationship would persist once you both had made your college commitments. This wasn’t an outcome either of you prepared for.

“Holy shit, Steve. I’m sorry…” You whisper. Steve pushes his face into his hands; his voice is muffled from behind his palms, “Yeah, yeah… holy shit.”

You don’t hesitate any more to comfort him. Steve straightens as you place your hands on his arms; he melts into your touch, unable to prevent you from turning his body to face yours.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” You reassure him, “College isn’t the only option, you know. There are other things you could do.”

The expression on Steve’s face breaks your heart. You’d do anything to wipe it away and brighten his mood. But Steve just sighs again, appreciating your efforts to help him, but nothing seems to be working.

“How’d your parents react?” You ask. The only thing keeping Steve grounded to this moment is the firm grip you have on his shoulders; he thinks he’d float away without it.

He scoffs a bit; the sound breaks the deafening silence that formed as he thought of a response. His eyes are still focused downwards as he finally answers you, “They don’t know yet. I just got the last letter today. I couldn’t think of going anywhere else.”

When your fingers brush against his cheek, Steve instinctively moves his hands to rest on your waist, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Steve finally lifts his head. Your eyes are wide, pupils filled to the brim with nothing but your fondness for him. All of a sudden, he’s confused why he was so scared to tell you. He realizes that he never should’ve doubted you.

“I was scared this would change things. Or that you’d be disappointed in me or some shit.”

Your brow furrows as you laugh softly - baffled by his words, “What could ever make you think that I’d be disappointed in you?”

A flash of previous memories answers your own question. You decide not to pull on that thread anymore.

“This changes things,” You mutter. Your eyeline drops as you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Finally, Steve feels a bit of relief. The sincerity in your voice calms the fear, and a deep exhale allows him to let it go. Your compassion and understanding permits him to begin thinking clearly again. He knew there was a reason he came here.

You’re right though. This does change how you both navigate the future. But with you here to support him, Steve figures he’ll be just fine.

“I mean…” The corner of your mouth curls up at the thought that pops into your head, “The only way my opinion of you changes is if you killed my brother or something like that.”

Steve chuckles slightly, “But Mike’s still fair game?”

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” You quip, “He’s had it comin’ for a while.”

Even though your voices are hushed, the joke still makes you crack a pair of brilliant smiles; it almost makes Steve forget about his future for a moment. Standing here in your arms, Steve can’t help but realize how safe he feels.

And then you sigh, reaching up to brush back a lock of his brunette hair - the sensation of your touch fills Steve with something new, something different. A direct contrast to the violent storm brewing outside, this is soft, warm, and golden. Like daylight.

Your eyes meet again. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever wants to look at anything else.

Your hand lands on his chest, “This doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Steve throws caution to the wind - he kisses you. And already, you can tell that this is one you’ll remember. His lips are soft against yours, but without sacrificing an ounce of passion. You almost forget that someone could walk in and expose your relationship; when Steve finally pulls away, it doesn’t matter anyways.

As if you weren’t left breathless enough from his kiss, the words he mutters afterwards could’ve done it themselves.

With one of his trademark smirks plastered across his face, Steve moves to hold your head between his palms, “Fuck, I love you.”

You kiss him again so quickly that you both didn’t have enough time to wipe the twinkling grins from your lips. Your noses are squished against each other, but neither of you cares enough. Your shared love dulls the pain.

Steve smiles into the kiss even further. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

— taglist: @djjarin / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #st fic #st imagine #steve harrington x you #my writing #almost paradise

354 notes · View notes

cyhyr · 3 years

Text

Summer of Whump Day 15: Sleep Deprived

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka; Umino Iruka & Uzumaki Naruto

WC: ~3320

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: AU backstory for the purposes of I Wanted To.

A/N: This is just. I don't even know guys. I started writing and then it got bigger and bigger and I couldn't stop. It's just. A Lot.

Kakashi has not been able to take care of his sensei’s child the way he should, the way the boy admittedly deserves; and yes, absolutely, he takes that fault personally but also doesn’t do anything about it because really… what can he provide for this child besides instability? He’s hardly in the village anymore, though Sandaime has hinted that, if Kakashi asked, he could be assigned missions closer to home. Instead, Kakashi does what he can without bothering Naruto or letting the boy realize that he even exists. He ensures the bills are paid up in six-month increments, and has the utility companies know to charge to his personal account anything he misses due to being out on mission. He provides non-perishable groceries, placed in the pantry late at night every month or so: oats, rice, dried or tinned meats, beans and legumes. He’ll bring a small selection of vegetables with him at the same time, (no more than three or four items, so they don’t rot before Naruto feels obligated to eat them) usually pilfered from Gai’s garden so he knows they’re not poisoned.

And whenever he’s in the village, he makes a stop at Naruto’s apartment at least once to check in on the wards wrapped into the walls and window frames.

This is how he learns about Umino Iruka and the interest he’s taken in the village jinchūriki.

The wards when he gets to Minato’s son’s apartment this time are different. Odd. Not… well, actually, they might be stronger; Kakashi glances at the walls with the sharingan and finds himself mildly impressed. Whoever placed these wards knew about the ones Kakashi put up, and modified their own to augment and strengthen Kakashi’s.

Kakashi says modified because he’s seen these styles of wards before, but never used like this. The key in the front door jingles a bit, like the person unlocking the door knows Kakashi’s in here and is giving him time to leave. Kakashi takes the out for what it is and slips out the window, closing it quietly behind him. He stays plastered against the wall beside the window for a moment, however, wanting to get a glimpse of who’s taking care of his sensei’s kid in Kakashi’s stead.

The door opens and Naruto—gods, how old is he, seven? Eight?—barrels by the figure in the doorway with a grin and shoots straight for the pantry.

“Naruto-kun, take your sandals off first. I mopped for you just earlier this week, I’m not doing it again so soon.”

One arm balancing a paper bag of fresh groceries, a leather school bag over the same shoulder; hitai-ate and vest both neat, but his sleeves and pants legs are scuffed; and his fingers carry the faint dusting of chalk that hours of holding ingrains and a quick wash won’t wipe away. A teacher.

“Iruka-sensei, I can mop later; I’m hungry now!”

“I won’t ask you twice.” The man—this Iruka-sensei—walks barefoot through the apartment and sets the grocery bag down on the kitchen table. Naruto hangs his head and goes back to the door, and once he’s out of the room, Iruka looks at the window Kakashi is peeking in, scowling initially. The scowl lessens when he sees the Konoha ANBU mask, and he nods, but makes a slight shoo gesture.

“What’re we making tonight, sensei?” Naruto bounds back into the room, barefoot as his sensei.

“I’m thinking of teaching you breakfast for dinner,” Iruka says. “Miso soup, tamagoyaki, steamed salmon; how’s that sound?”

“Sounds great!”

“And if we make enough, you’ll have enough for the morning, too,” Iruka ruffles Naruto’s hair. “Go grab out the rice and we’ll get started, okay?”

Kakashi leaves. Iruka-sensei seems to have only good intentions.

Iruka is a new teacher, one that (if the very quiet rumors are to be believed) didn’t initially want to be the jinchūriki’s homeroom teacher. Something changed his mind, clearly, and now he’s spending every moment outside of class with the kid.

Every. Moment.

Kakashi notices the third time he’s in the village after meeting Iruka—notices how tired the man seems. He follows the teacher from just before dawn when he wakes up and heads out to Naruto’s apartment and fixes him breakfast. Kakashi watches Iruka herd Naruto around the apartment, brushing teeth, getting changed, gods Naruto where’s your homework I told you to put it right back in your bag last night after I helped you with it. Then they’re out the door and one of them locks the deadbolt while the other activates the wards (Iruka always double-checks the wards if Naruto does them) and they walk to the Academy together.

Iruka spends the day in the Academy staunchly refusing to play favorites. If Kakashi didn’t know that the man had made Naruto eat breakfast while searching for a clean shirt for the child to wear, he’d swear Naruto was Iruka’s least favorite student—based solely on the amount of yelling.

But the two of them have lunch together, talk and hang out during recess unless Iruka shoos him away to play, and then they walk together to either Iruka’s or Naruto’s apartment after school. Sometimes they’ll go out for ramen, or to one of the training grounds to work on a technique they started in class which Naruto needs more time to fully grasp. Iruka is a patient teacher, especially one-on-one, and even though Minato-sensei’s son doesn’t perform well on the tests in school he learns the techniques after class and gains the appropriate muscle memory.

Which is admittedly much more important than the grades Naruto earns. Iruka won’t say as much, but it’s obvious that he agrees when his teaching style puts emphasis on practicals rather than paper tests. Kakashi approves.

After a day of minding twenty-five ankle-biters, an afternoon of extra training for the village jinchūriki, and an evening of making sure Naruto is fed and happy and his homework is completed to the best of his ability, Iruka then helps Naruto get ready for bed. Against the kid’s token protests, they’ll read a story together (Kakashi suspects Iruka does this because Naruto’s reading skills are lacking, but he could also very well just be doing it because he enjoys it—the man’s motives are enigma to him) and Iruka will tuck Naruto in. He stays at the apartment until he knows Naruto is asleep, tidying up here and there or even just leaning in the bedroom doorway watching the jinchūriki’s chest rise and fall.

Only when Naruto’s asleep will Iruka leave, activating the wards and locking up after himself.

It took only two times of Kakashi watching these kinds of days go by before he realized that Iruka knew he had been watched all day. As he passes the tree outside of Naruto’s building, the only one that reaches high enough to afford a glance into his apartment, Iruka looks right up into the limbs where Kakashi is crouched, waves, and continues back to his own home.

(He had been underestimating Umino Iruka’s awareness. He’s intrigued.)

(But anyway.)

Once he’s home, Iruka rushes through grading and lesson plans and adjustments. He makes lunch for himself and Naruto for tomorrow. Cleans, if he remembers; showers, if he has any energy left. Then, Umino-sensei crashes hard around one or two in the morning.

All to start over again at five-thirty the next morning.

It can’t be sustainable. Kakashi is morbidly interested in how long Iruka planned to keep up this kind of schedule.

It starts out with checking out during lunch. Kakashi is lounging in the trees on the Academy grounds, pretending to read but listening intently to Naruto ramble on about some new topping Ichiraku is introducing on Friday and please Iruka-sensei can we go? Then the soft click of dropped chopsticks against a bento box made Kakashi look down to the pair sitting at the base of his tree.

“Iruka-sensei? Are you—?”

“Oh, I’m. I’m alright.” Iruka laughs it off, fumbling for his chopsticks. “I was just thinking too hard there.”

“You shouldn’t do that!”

“Hu—?”

“You tell me not to think too hard all the time,” Naruto pouts. “That I’ll hurt myself.”

Iruka’s laugh crinkles his eyes and he tips his head back. “Gods, Naruto, I’m sorry—no, not—um. Listen, forget it, okay? Ramen, on Friday, right?”

“YES!”

And it was forgotten. Except, Iruka is unconsciously rubbing his fingers together beside his hip and Kakashi can see it. Something happened to force the drop—likely, he lost feeling in his hand briefly.

Kakashi’s out of the village as it gets worse, but he hears all about it from Shikaku and Inoichi when he gets back. They’re in the hallway outside the Hokage’s office, talking in low tones like they were discussing an attack on the village.

“What could cause such a serious mood shift?”

“Genjutsu; one of the other teachers sabotaging him; another student practicing poorly.”

“Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi asks.

Both men look at him as he approaches. He’s still in his ANBU armor, but the mask is in his locker. It’s an open secret he’s in ANBU; only his codename is high-clearance.

Shikaku nods. “Shikamaru’s complaining about the man’s temper being shorter than usual.”

“My Ino confirmed this behavior shift. We’re understandably worried, if someone if trying to use an Academy teacher to attack the kids—”

Kakashi shakes his head. “It’s not that.”

“And you would know?” Shikaku prompts.

“He’s taking care of Naruto,” Kakashi shrugs. “It’s probably catching up with him, finally.”

“What is?” Inoichi looks honestly confused.

Kakashi tilts his head and then realizes. “Ah. That’s right. You’re both married. You have a way to share the responsibilities.”

Sakumo hadn’t ever been irate with him, but Kakashi can remember him being tired. He lifts his hand and walks away. “I’ll see if I can’t have a talk with Iruka-sensei,” he says, as though he speaks with the man on a regular basis instead of just waving back from his shadowed space in the tree at night when Iruka leaves Naruto.

He doesn’t get a chance to talk to Iruka for weeks. When he gets back, it finally comes to a head.

Kakashi is perched outside Iruka’s apartment where he and Naruto are preparing their dinner. Naruto, still talking a mile a minute, hardly notices that Iruka is dazed at the counter, his hands going through the motions of peeling carrots and separating pieces of broccoli without being fully cognizant. He’s much paler than the last time Kakashi peeked in on them—all except for the bags under his eyes; those couldn’t get much darker if they were black.

He flinches forward as Iruka drifts to the side. Naruto catches his teacher before Kakashi can take a step, and the clang of a knife hitting the floor is more than a little startling. Together, they stick Iruka’s hand under running water from the tap, and then Naruto disappears further into the apartment and returns a few seconds later with a first aid kit.

“What was that about, Iruka-sensei?”

Iruka takes a bit to answer. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he says. “I’m a bit tired, that’s all. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Naruto says. He finishes caring for his sensei and then says, “How about I go get some take-out, and then we can clean up and you can go to bed?”

Iruka smiles tiredly. “We can bring the take-out to your place, okay? I’ll clean up when I come back home.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, Naruto,” Iruka puts his unbandaged hand in Naruto’s hair. “I’d rather make sure you’re fed and well-rested for school tomorrow. That’s what's important.”

“You’re important, too, sensei,” Naruto says.

Kakashi can’t help but agree.

“Let’s go get some ramen, and we can argue about this later.”

Kakashi flashes away to Ichiraku to put in their order and pay. It’s the least he can do, right?

Later that night, Iruka leaves Naruto’s apartment and like always, lifts his head to wave up at Kakashi in the tree. Only, his eyes roll back with the movement of lifting his head and his knees collapse under him and Kakashi makes it just in time to keep the sensei’s head from hitting the ground. He catches Iruka with one hand under his back and the other cupped behind his head and eases him down against his raised knee.

As soon as Iruka is horizontal, his eyes flutter back open. “Oh, ANBU-san,” he mutters. He’s dazed and foggy, but tries to stand up on his own anyway.

“Sensei, are you well?” Kakashi asks, knowing the answer but needing Iruka to admit it.

Iruka waves him away. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

It’s more than that if you’re slipping into micro-sleep, Kakashi thinks, but lets the man stubbornly stand up. He’s still holding his hands out, ready to catch him again, when after five paces Iruka tips sideways and falls again. Kakashi keeps him upright this time, arms tight around his waist and back.

Iruka stays under for a few seconds this time, and when he wakes he leans more heavily into Kakashi’s armor and groans. “What’s happening?” he murmurs.

Normally, he would stay and look after Naruto all night, but this seems more important. “Umino-sensei, I’m going to see you to the hospital now,” he says.

“But… Naruto?”

Because of course Iruka figured out that Kakashi—his ANBU persona at least—stays close to Naruto at all times. “Together, our wards are top-notch, sensei,” Kakashi says. “He’ll be okay for a night.” He slips Iruka onto his back, pulling his arms over his shoulders. Iruka’s light breath huffs past his ear as he says, “Hold on.” Then, they’re gone.

Iruka wakes up much later, Naruto tipped against his hospital bed, snoring. He feels so much better after however many hours of sleep he’s gotten. He wonders briefly why he’s here, and where the ANBU that brought him here is. If Naruto is here, that ANBU is likely closeby. Iruka lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and settles back down on the pillow to sleep some more.

When he wakes up the second time, it’s because he has to pee so bad oh gods. It’s night time and Naruto is gone—Iruka tries not to feel disappointed. His legs shake under him when he tries to stand to get to the restroom; whatever’s wrong with him, it’s making him weak as a newborn but he will not embarrass himself by not making it to the toilet. He pushes chakra through his legs, and, finally, blissfully, makes it.

He gets a good look at himself in the mirror as he’s washing his hands. His eyes are puffy and red, but he has some color back in his skin. His hair could use a wash and some heavy conditioning—he hadn’t had time for that in awhile. All in all, it’s not bad; but he’s still wondering why he’s here.

Iruka leaves the restroom and is halfway across the room to his bed when his chakra flares unexpectedly. He stumbles, collapses, and feels his eyes blur and begin to roll back.

Before his head can hit the tile, he’s caught and cushioned by Naruto’s ANBU. The ANBU gently picks him up, one arm under his knees and the other around his back, and it’s like Iruka weighs nothing as the ANBU stands and carries him back to bed.

“Thank-you, ANBU-san,” Iruka says, flushed. “I promise I’m not usually so weak.”

The ANBU fusses with the blanket and covers Iruka back up. He (Iruka assumes they’re a he, the voice and height lead him to believe it but he’s been wrong before) seems frustrated, in the way that ANBU show frustration: by being busy, and then by being absolutely still. He’ll make sure the water pitcher is full, and then stand silently by the window for a few seconds. Pace the width of the room from window to door and back, and then stand at the end of the bed.

“What’s going on, ANBU-san? Is Naruto—?”

“Uzumaki-kun is safe, healthy, and well-cared for,” the ANBU says, cutting him off. “You are a godsend to this village, if only to care for the uncared for.”

Iruka glowers. “Someone had to do it. He’s seven years old and living alone and has lived alone his entire life. I couldn’t—”

“I’m aware,” the ANBU holds up a hand to stop his rant. “Believe me, if I could have done more, I would have. But an ANBU is no role model, especially not me. I’m glad he’s had you. That said.” The ANBU somehow matched Iruka’s glower through the mask; he was suddenly glad for all the time spent in Sandaime’s office around the ANBU that he can pick up on these micro-aggressions for what they are.

Iruka folds his arms and waits for the ANBU to continue.

After a heavy sigh, the ANBU says, “Sleep deprivation.”

“I—what?”

“What you’re here for. You’ve been running yourself into the ground, sensei. You slept for twenty-two hours, and you’re still not fully recovered. The medics say it could take up to a week of proper sleep for you to feel normal again.”

Iruka flushes and ducks his head. “I… But, that doesn’t…”

“How much sleep have you been getting? Three, Four hours a night? And then you’re exhausting yourself all day looking after pre-genin and then Naruto.” The ANBU folds his arms. “This isn’t sustainable.”

“I know that. I just.” Iruka groans. “I don’t have time for—” He scrubs both hands across his eyes. Now that he’s actually gotten some sleep he’s really tired. “No one else takes care of him, not the way he needs it; he’s just a kid! It bothers me enough that he lives by himself—”

“Your immune system was compromised when you arrived, sensei.” The ANBU snapped, quieting Iruka’s tirade. “Who’s going to take care of Naruto the way he deserves if you’re stuck on your back with a perfectly, normally treatable form of the flu? What will happen to him if you critically injure yourself due to a micro-sleep at an inopportune time and find yourself off-roster for weeks? What then, sensei?”

The silence is heavy. Iruka picks at a stray thread in the blanket on his lap.

“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice small. “I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking that far ahead, I guess.”

The ANBU nods. “At least you’re aware now.”

There’s a long, awkward pause as Iruka wonders what else there is to say.

“You have a spare room in your apartment, yes?” the ANBU breaks the silence.

Iruka nods, slowly, not sure where this is going.

“Maybe…” the ANBU continues slowly, “maybe changes in Naruto’s living arrangements can be made. If Naruto were living with you, could you agree to a better sleep schedule—one with which you can better take care of yourself and Naruto?”

Iruka could kiss this man.

“Yes! Yes, please, I’ll—yes! I’ll take him, even if it means I have to lose him as a student, I’d take him as a foster.”

The ANBU chuckles. “I’ll speak with the Hokage. If he says no, well… There’s nothing saying that Naruto himself can’t choose where he lives, is there?” Then his micro-aggression is back, leaning over the foot of the bed with his arms wide. “My only stipulation is that you take better care of yourself. A sick guardian can’t very well keep up with any child, let alone a jinchūriki.”

Iruka nods. “Deal.” He covers a yawn with his palm and asks, “Can this taking care of myself clause start now, with me asking you to leave so I can go back to sleep?”

“I’m not leaving,” the ANBU says, standing back up straight. “If you’re to be the guardian of our jinchūriki, you’ll need to get used to the ANBU guard, sensei. But please, get some sleep.” He chuckles lightly, “I think I’ve caught you enough in the last thirty-six hours, don’t you?”

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump15 #sleep deprived #fanfic #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #uzumaki naruto #my writing

33 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding On Ch 15: TFI Friday

Summary: It’s Friday (thank f**k), and Frank’s taken the day off work so that he and Fliss can take an early dinner before meeting the Circle of Truth to celebrate Bonnie and Simon’s engagement…but Fliss is struggling with her emotions, especially when it comes to leaving Alex behind.

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW, no under 18s…)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N: A lot of fluff going down in this chapter…they deserve it! We also get to see Frank’s version of the events from Done With Nice Guys which was written by @smediumsmeatbae. Please check it out, it’s adorable!!!

Chapter Song: Laid by James (this happens to be another one of my favourites…give it a listen to!)

Series Masterlist // WIYPT Masterlist

This bed is on fire with passionate love. The neighbours complain about the noises above, but she only comes when she’s on top. My therapist said not to see you no more, he said you’re like a disease without any cure, he said I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no…ah, you think you’re so pretty…

Frank woke, reaching out blindly for his phone to silence the alarm. He swiped the button across and turned over, fully intending on giving Fliss a cuddle for another 5 minutes or so before he had to get up when realisation crashed over him and he gave a groan. He'd booked the fucking day off so he could take Fliss for a late afternoon-slash-early evening meal and had forgotten to turn off his bastard alarm.

And then it further dawned on him that it didn't actually matter because Mary still needed to get up and ready for school regardless of his day off or not.

But then…it was Friday. Her university day…which meant she wasn’t due in until 10…

With a grin his arm tightened over Fliss’ waist, hand splaying on her belly as he pulled her back into him, nuzzling his nose into her neck, feeling a stirring in his boxers where his cock was already semi-hard thanks to the life of its own it had in a morning. Part of him wanted to wake her for a bit of fun before the rest of the house rose, the other knew she was bound to be tired after Alex had been an absolute horror during the night, but in the end the decision was made for him as he felt her shift a little, before she stretched out her limbs, a soft sigh escaping from her mouth. "Morning Sailor..." Fliss yawned.

"Morning Cowgirl" He said, closing his eyes and snuggling closer into her. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“The alarm did.” She shifted slightly before she propped herself up to check on Alex who was fast asleep "Yeah, now he sleeps" she grumbled.

Frank gave a chuckle and pressed another kiss to her neck "yeah he was really not playing ball last night was he?"

"3 times." She groaned "He's a bottomless pit Frank."

"I told you to stay on bed the 3rd time." Frank sighed.

"Once I'm awake I'm awake." She shrugged. "He cries and it’s like my boobs send an alarm to my brain.”

Frank chuckled "Well like your mom suggested, introducing the formula should help. He'll fill up from less and give you a break."

"You mean because I can't feed him what he needs myself." She let put a sigh and at that Frank took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Hey, look at me." He said sternly and she rolled onto her back, her brown eyes blinking up at him, auburn and blonde hair splayed across her pillow "you checked with the doctor, she said this perfectly normal..."

"Then why do I feel so shit." She asked, tears brimming her eyes "I can't even feed our baby properly.”

"Come ‘ere..." he said gently as she rolled onto her side facing him, his arms cradling her close as she pressed her face into his chest, sniffling "Lissy, you're a wonderful mom. Don't start beating yourself up about something that in the grand scheme of things really doesn't matter."

"It matters to me Frank..."

"Look, he won't give a shit whether what he's getting is from you or not. He just wants food." He said gently, his hand rubbing up and down her back, underneath the sleep cami she was wearing "if anything the fact you're doing this shows how much of a good mom you are. You spotted something that he needs and you're doing what you have to do to give it to him.” She stayed silent bar her little sniffles and he gently pressed a kiss to her head. "Don't think on it too much Fliss. I know it must feel shitty for you but he'll be fine. That I can promise you."

She took a deep breath and pulled back to look at him, and he gently brushed his lips against hers, the hand that was on her back stopping in the middle of the spine, holding her to him. She arched an eyebrow and gave a little smirk before he shrugged and kissed her lazily. She took the kiss eagerly, allowing him to slowly ease her over onto her back, caging her underneath his body as his mouth moved to her jawline then her neck. She gave a soft sigh, her hands sliding into his sleep-messed hair and he’d just moved his mouth downwards, softly nipping at her chest through her top when, with his ever perfect timing, Alex let out a little whine.

“For fucks sake…” Frank grumbled, his head falling to the valley of Fliss’ chest as she chuckled, swatting at his head. With a sigh he propped himself up and dropped a kiss to her lips. “I’ll get him sorted.” he said. “You take a while, lay in.”

Fliss looked down at her boobs and then shrugged “Well seeing as he fed 3 times over night they’re not that swollen so…” Frank gave a snort as she looked at him, arching her eyebrows “Hey, the struggle is real, ok?"

“I didn’t suggest otherwise.” He said, hopping out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats, yanking at the crotch as they felt a little tight thanks to the fact he was still aroused, and a T-shirt as Fliss leaned over, gently rubbing Alex’s tummy. “Hey…” he said, picking his son up, gently placing a large hand on his back “If you’re swapping over to formula, does that mean Ben and Jerry are gonna go smaller?” he nodded at her chest “Because if so I may be forced to reconsider my stance on the situation.”

“If you didn’t have hold of our son I’d punch you.” Fliss glared and he gave a chuckle before he headed out of the room.

“Couldn’t you have slept for like 15 minutes longer this morning buddy?” he questioned gently as he entered the nursery, placing Alex down on the changing mat. “You totally cock blocked me. Which, for the record, is not cool.”

Alex looked at him, blinking slowly.

“Yeah, you might look like that.” Frank deadpanned, as Alex’s hands curled around his fingers. His little legs wiggled a little and Frank bent down with his mouth arranged in an open smile, causing Alex’s face to split into a little grin, his arms and legs waggling even faster. “Yeah, ok, I forgive you.” Frank chuckled before he changed him into a clean diaper and then padded downstairs to warm his bottle up, juggling his son easily in one arm as he did so.

By now Alex’s fairly decent mood had started to wane as he was hungry. The noises he made were getting louder and slightly more impatient, threatening to turn into an out and out cry.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s coming pal…” Frank said, dropping a gentle kiss to the downy hair on Alex’s head “I know, you’re hungry...despite the fact you had midnight, 1.30 am and 4am snack…”

He settled on the sofa, flicked on the TV for the morning news, positioned Alex and gave him his bottle, watching with a soft smile on his face as the baby’s cheeks worked hungrily taking the mix of breast and formula. They’d started this just a few days or so ago after Fliss had simply been unable to stop him crying from hunger Tuesday afternoon and called her mom in a flap. She’d suggested doing what Steve and Sian had had to do with the twins, seeing as both of those had been greedy little bastards too so after a call to the Paediatrician, Fliss had reluctantly agreed. He did sympathise with her, and he’d been waiting for the inevitable tears which had finally come that morning, but it would be much easier for her in the long run all things considered, especially if as the doctor had suggested she could move to formula fully bar a morning feed.

Supporting Alex in one arm, he absentmindedly watched the anchor and co-anchor on the breakfast show interviewing someone about a Thanksgiving tradition or something, he wasn’t really paying much attention if he was honest. It freaked him out how fast it was creeping up on them. Soon it would be fucking Christmas. Thankfully, Fliss seemed to be on top of it mostly. They were hosting a small Thanksgiving with his mother then heading over to Verity and Bill’s for the usual party, and for Christmas Steve, Sian and the boys were over so they were spending the day at Verity and Bill’s along with Roberta and his mother…which was always fun. It never ceased to amaze him how welcoming Fliss’ family had been to his own fucked up version of one.

Lost in his thoughts, he was jerked from them by a little popping noise and he looked down to see Alex had moved away from the bottle, and to his astonishment there was a small amount left.

“Finally full up buddy?” he asked, offering it him back but the baby turned his head away un interested “Guess so.” Frank said, placing the bottle on the coffee table and moving Alex so he was leaning against his chest, head on his shoulder as he burped him. It took a little while but eventually he obliged and Frank chuckled, turning his head to look at him, bright blue eyes staring around the room. He was developing so fast now, it was ridiculous.

“Shall we go wake your sister up?” he asked softly, “Yeah, ok…”

Thankfully, Mary was actually pretty co-operative most mornings, and today being one of her university split days she was in a good mood, rabbiting on to Frank about the assignment she had done. They ate breakfast before she headed off upstairs to get changed and once she was back, he told her to watch Alex for a second whilst he made his way into the bedroom with a plate of toast and a coffee for Fliss, knowing full well she wouldn’t be asleep. And sure enough, she lay on her back, watching the TV. She beamed at him as she shuffled herself up, taking the mug off him as he placed the plate on the night stand and perched on the side of the bed.

“Where’s Bean?” she asked.

“Mary’s watching him for a second so I could bring you that.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’ll take him with me when I drop Mary off. He likes the truck. I might pop into the shop for 20 minutes or so, the guys haven’t seen him in a while and I like showing him off.” Frank smiled a little bashfully and Fliss’ smile grew even larger. “Imma dress him in his Made In Boston T-shirt…”

Fliss chuckled “I still can’t believe Bonnie and Simon got him that.” “Oh, I can.” Frank nodded “In fact, that’s quite tame for what I expected from Si to be honest.” “Yeah, that’s true…” Fliss conceded “Oh, don’t forget, I’m teaching at 2 for an hour.” “I’ll be well back before then.” Frank snorted, “It’s not even 8 yet.” “I know I was just pointing out you can have some more male bonding time then too.” “Great, maybe I’ll introduce him to Debbie Does Dallas…” Frank teased and Fliss snorted

“Well, we know he likes boobs so…”

Frank gave a laugh before he leaned over and gave her another soft kiss. “I’ll get him dressed and then we’re heading out so I’ll see you in a little while. Love you.” “Love you too.” She smiled, as he bumped his nose against hers and left.

*****

Once he’d dropped Mary off and walked her into her lecture hall where he handed her over to her tutor, he headed back out to the truck, clipping the car seat back in place. He dropped into work, where as predicted the guys on the team all came to say hi, commenting on how big he was compared to last time they’d seen him. He double checked a couple of the rotas for Monday before he headed home, getting back just after 11, by which point Alex was fast asleep. He entered the house, greeting Thor who came bounding down the stairs to check who’d dared to walk into his home.

“Just me buddy.” He said, patting the large dog’s head before he headed upstairs knowing full well that if Thor had been upstairs that meant Fliss was too. And sure enough, he opened the door to their bedroom and heard the shower in the en-suite going. Fred opened his eye and looked at Frank from where he had been lounging on their bed, his tail swishing slightly before he returned to his cat nap, not even bothering to move.

With a snort at the cat’s blatant lack of any fucks to give, Frank placed the car seat on the dresser, smoothing back Alex’s hair as he continued to sleep and then realised that this was a prime opportunity for finishing what he started this morning. With a dirty smirk to himself he opened the door to the bathroom. Fliss’ head was tipped back, face turned to the stream of water, suds cascading from her long hair down her body which instantly had him half hard in the constraints of his sweats.

Yup, Frank Adler was a big fan of getting dirty in the shower.

“Room for another?” he asked, cheekily, pulling off his T-shirt. Fliss jumped a little as she hadn’t heard him come in and then turned to look at him through the shower screen, most of her body obscured by the frosted glass pattern. She grinned and raised her hand, making a beckoning motion with her fingers. In a flash he shed the remainder of his clothing and stepped into the large cubicle with her, his hands reaching out for her hips, pulling her towards him, so her back was pressed to his chest.

“I believe we have unfinished business Miss Gallagher.” He said, feeling her slick skin pressing against his as he nipped at her neck.

“Really?” she pondered, “I don’t recall…”

“No?” he teased, his lips placing another kiss to her wet skin, “Maybe this will jog your memory…”

His hands slid up, tracing the curve of her waist before he gently cupped her breasts, calloused thumbs skating over the nipples. With a reaction that was automatic, she let out a soft sigh as he gently teased her, his palms and fingers working their magic, all the time taking care not to be too rough as he knew she was sensitive. But in the end it was Fliss demanding he go harder as she arched her back, pushing herself into his hands as she felt the aching brewing between her legs. She went to squeeze them closed, anything to help relieve the pressure that was building and she felt Frank’s lips smirk against her neck, one of his hands brushing down her body, slipping between her folds, right where she needed him most.

“Fuck…” she swore, as he gently played her, slow, teasing strokes and before long she was rocking against his hand, seeking friction as she was spiralling higher and higher, Frank’s rock hard dick pressing into the lower part of her back.

“Turn around…” Frank said into her ear and she did as she was told, greeting his lips in a filthy kiss as he pivoted her round so that her back was pressed to the wall of the shower cubicle. His mouth moved from hers to her jawline, the whiskers of his beard gently sliding over her skin as he dipped his head to kiss her collar bone before he rather gracefully dropped to his knees. He glanced up at her, deep brown met ocean blue, her eyes full with a heady combination of love, desire and lust and it drew a low growl from his throat as he reached down for her left ankle. With a steady hand Frank lifted it over his right shoulder and gently kissed and sucked his way up her leg, leaving a nip at the apex of her thigh. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the tiles as he moved to where she wanted him the most, his tongue long and flat against her centre as he lapped at her entrance all the way up to her sensitive bud. Her body jolted as she let out a soft sigh of his name which was laced with satisfaction as he set his mouth to work.

As Frank devoured her with the enthusiasm of a man starved, Fliss curled her fingers into his damp hair, the movement a reflex as the other slapped flat against the grey slate tiles. The contrast of his short beard scratching at her sensitive skin to his soft tongue and mouth was sending her body into overdrive. He gently grazed her bud with his teeth which caused her hips to violently buck forward, her nails dug into his scalp and he gave a chuckle which vibrated against her clit causing her to groan loudly.

“Jesus Christ Frank…” she panted, looking down at him. He peeked up from between her legs, a cheeky glint in his eyes as he continued, his tongue flicking into her entrance, before he sucked on her bud and then she was gone. Her knees trembled as her hand pulled his hair, almost to the point it was painful as she gave a loud cry, her other hand reaching to his head as she used both to push him away from her sensitive sex as she clamped down around thin air. With a smug sense of satisfaction at having undone her to the extent he had, Frank rose to his feet, wiping his wet face with an equally wet forearm and he cupped her cheeks, kissing her again, his tongue tangling against hers.

Fliss’ wrecked brain had barely registered his mouth was on hers when he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as the water cascaded down on them both. “Turn back around…”he whispered softly, and she did as she was told. Frank gently moved his hands to her hips, pulling her back, nudging her ankles with his feet to open her up a little more. With one palm on the base of her back he gently bent her forward ever so slightly, took his throbbing cock in his hand and lined himself up. With a gentle, slow movement he slipped inside, burying himself in her heat, the rumble from his throat slipping out of his mouth at the relief of finally being inside her. Once he was fully sheathed his hands moved, one to her stomach, holding her in place, the other up to her breasts as she arched her back, her head back against his shoulder as he drove in and out of her, slowly, deliberately. Her right hand moved back to grab at his thigh, her fingertips digging into the hard muscle as he thrust forward, the other hand flat reached back to tangle in his hair.

“God you feel so good baby…” he groaned, his mouth licking a stripe up the side of her neck as her head lolled to the right, tracing her wet skin up to her jaw line, “So fahkin’ good…”

The hand that had been on her belly moved to grasp her chin with his finger and thumb, tipping her face round to his so he could kiss her. It was all Fliss could do to kiss him back, allowing him to control the pace as she was completely gone, the sensations lancing through her body had left her totally pliant to his ministrations, and he fucking adored the fact she surrendered to him, that she felt safe enough to do so.

“Frankie…” she panted softly as he continued to push into her, driving deep, and she gave a squeak as he rotated his hips, his fingers letting go of her face to slide down her body, between her legs and she gave a long wail of delight as he fondled her bud, “Shit…I’m…”

“Go one, come for me baby…” he nipped at her ear “I got you, I promise…”

With a last, silent moan she came, hard, her knees almost buckling, but Frank held her to him as she blissed out completely, the entire world fading around her as she felt nothing but the familiar hot, warm pleasure as her abdomen contracted and relaxed as her walls spasmed around him over and over.

“Good girl…” he praised as he continued thrusting through, the heat in his own belly now beginning to spike even more, “Such a good girl for me…”

She preened at his praise, relaxing slightly into his hold as he kissed her neck once more, picking up the pace slightly. She reached back with one hand to cup his balls and with an almost violent buck forward he came, biting down gently on her shoulder, muffling the noises of satisfaction and pleasure that rolled from the back of his throat.

His hips stilled and neither of them moved, his hands gently flexing on her hips before he gave a soft chuckle of satisfaction and he pulled out of her, taking care to keep her as close to him as he could. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and she turned her head, greeting his lips in a soft, gentle kiss and he smiled as she pulled away, rubbing her nose against his.

“You should take the day off more often” she quipped and Frank could do nothing but laugh.

“I fahkin’ love you.” He chuckled and she grinned, giving a shrug.

“I’m a very lovable person.”

“That you are cowgirl.” He nodded, “That you are.”

*****

“Felicity Rose Gallagher, if you ask me one more time if we are sure we’re going to be ok I’m gonna go mad.” Verity glared at Fliss who had just asked the question for the umpteenth time since her parents had turned up for babysitting duty.

Fliss gave a groan and held her hands up. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You’ve left him with us before, this is no different.” Verity looked at her “No go, go on, scoot.”

Over Fliss’ shoulder, Frank shot Verity a wink as he dropped his hand to the curve of his girl’s lower back.

“Come on Lissy, we’ll be late otherwise.”

“Yeah, and I wanna get back to eat.” Bill said, twirling his car keys.

“Maybe I should drive?” Fliss looked at Frank who took a deep breath as Verity made an annoyed noise in her throat.

“If you want to drive, then that’s up to you.” Frank said simply as she bit her lip. “Be a shame though, I was gonna treat you to that champagne you demanded…maybe not quite a swimming pool full but…”

Fliss looked at him for a second before she shook her head “I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologising.” He chuckled softly “Baby what do you want to do?”

She glanced at Alex who was led in Verity’s arms, happily grinning up at his Nanna before she turned to Frank. “No, you’re right. We haven’t been out for months so…”she nodded. “Let’s go.” “Halle-fuckin-lujah.” Bill mumbled, earning himself a glare from Fliss. “V, I’ll grab us some take-out on the way back.”

“Bye baby…” Fliss crossed the room to drop a kiss on Alex’s head and then turned, taking Frank’s outstretched hand. “We won’t be too late…” she tossed over her shoulder at her mum. Verity shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re staying so be as late as you want.”

Fliss nodded and Frank squeezed his hand around hers as they left the room, not before he threw a smile at Verity who gave him a knowing one back. Fliss had been fine all week with the principle of going out…right up until she had gotten out of her second shower of the day that evening, when she’d suddenly had an attack of conscience about leaving him with her parents whilst she went out drinking. Frank was sharp enough to know full well this was linked to her current feelings of inadequacy, and he also knew that no matter what he said or did, there was nothing he could do to stop that bar be there for her and give her the reassurance that she needed.

That and simply love her, which was a given, because he did with every single breath he took.

“You look gorgeous.” He said to her gently as they walked to her dad’s car. She smiled and glanced down at the dark blue peplum top she was wearing, coupled with faded jeans and a white denim jacket. She’d been over the moon to find out she could fit back in those jeans so he wasn’t surprised she’d chosen them for the evening. On her feet she wore a simple pair of yellow heeled pumps, complete with matching bag. Her hair was down in loose waves, and her make-up was simple, a light dusting of rose gold powder on her lids.

“Thanks.” She said, before she eyed him up and down and he grinned as he knew full well what she was thinking, given that he was dressed in his yellow and black palm-tree Hawaiian print shirt.

“You said my shit shits were endearing.” He said and she gave a laugh, shrugging.

“You wouldn’t be Frank without them.” She smiled and he grinned.

Fliss declined the front seat when Frank offered it to her, instead climbing into the back behind her dad taking the time to check up on a few emails and the yard’s social media accounts. The three of them made easy chat on the way into St Pete’s and they thanked Bill for the lift as they both climbed out. Fliss instructed her dad to call them if there was any problems and he simply rolled his eyes and told her to “piss off and have a good time”.

They’d picked to go to Rios for dinner before they were heading down to Ferg’s to meet up with the others a little later on. It had become a little bit of a running joke between Bonnie and Fliss that, as much of a dive as Ferg’s was, frankly the two women preferred it to any of the bars they frequented. It was casual, fun, they knew a hell of a lot of people in there including most of the bar staff, and it held good memories. It suited both Frank and Simon down to the ground, both of them happy to tease their girls about having simple taste until Fliss normally quipped back along the lines of that being the reason she was marrying Frank in the first place. But when he pushed all jokes aside, he was glad she was so down to Earth. He had nothing against Greg or Jake’s wives but man, they were high maintenance.

But not his Lissy.

As it was still early and they wanted to chill out, they had opted to eat in the more casual outside lounge area which sported the roof bar and offered an all evening Tapas style menu, not the full a la carte main restaurant menu. As such they were led through to their table on the veranda. Neither of them had been into this part since the refurb, the last time Fliss came it hadn’t been finished but now, she felt a smile cross her face as she looked around. It was cosy and casual, right up her street. The tables were slightly lower than normal and appeared to all be different shapes and sizes, made out of driftwood and pallets. They were decked with large candles held in jars in the middle and surrounded by comfy chairs and bean bags all of which sported blankets given that the time of year meant sometimes in the evening it could be quite chilly at night. In the middle of the veranda was a large stone fire pit which was covered by an ornamental, wrought iron cage that spiralled to a point some 8 foot off the ground, and the bar stood to the rear right hand corner with a few people sat down enjoying a drink.

“Oh my God, I love it.” Fliss muttered to Frank and he looked down at her, nodding.

“This is pretty cool” he conceded.

“The tables and seats…it’s just how I pictured our wedding.” She said as they were led over to their spot at the rear, which was just by the glass barrier of the roof, over-looking the beach and the ocean.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, looking at her.

She nodded “Rustic, causal, bean bags, blankets…that type of thing…although it won’t be that cold then…”

“If you want blankets, baby, you can have blankets.” He chuckled kissing her forehead as they settled down onto the comfy plush seats which to Fliss’ delight were also bean bags just shaped differently. The teenage kid who had shown them to their table soon returned with the menus and informed them that as it was the first week they’d opened the terrace, with every bottle of wine purchased, there was complementary charcuterie tasting platter included. Fliss’ eyes lit up and Frank knew why, it was probably her favourite thing to eat in the world and he had to admit, she did a pretty wicked board herself when they were entertaining. With that in mind, he ordered them a bottle of Pinot Grigio and they sat back, Frank’s arm dropping over Fliss’ shoulders as she looked around.

“You know, if this is the type of thing you want, why not take a few photos and then we can start looking around.” Frank suggested and Fliss looked at him, smiling. “You can give Bobbi a call. I know you want to organise it yourself but she’ll probably have a list of suppliers, caterers, that sorta stuff for you to look at.” “I already know what I want for catering.” Fliss looked at him.

“You do?” Frank asked.

“Yup. I want food trucks. Mexican and Pizza.”

Frank cocked his head to one side, smiling as he looked at her “That’s actually a fucking brilliant idea.”

“No fancy sit down meal, if it stays for a couple of hours then people can grab what they want when they want.”

“Love it.” Frank grinned, looking up as their waiter appeared with their bottle of wine. He poured them both a glass and set the ice bucket in the middle of the table, before he disappeared again. Frank picked his glass up and Fliss did the same, the pair of them gently clinking them together, smiling. “To our first date in…what? 4 months?” Frank teased and Fliss shrugged.

“I don’t know, I lost track of time…been kinda busy.” She teased as Frank chuckled, leaning down to give her a soft kiss.

Their charcuterie board arrived not long after and they then placed their order, opting for the Chef’s Selection, a number of small tapas dishes which as the name suggested, would be selected by the chef for them. Fliss had liked the idea of it all being rather mysterious and as the waiter had asked what kind of thing they liked they’d both listed a few things and he’d nodded, heading away with their order.

Frank reached over for the wine bottle to top Fliss’ glass up and she thanked him, taking another sip, before he saw her bite her lip and she reached into her purse.

“Congratulations.” He said dryly, teasing her a little as she turned to him. He nodded to the phone “You made it like 45 minutes since we walked out of the door without checking up on him.” “I wasn’t…” she began to protest and he gave her a look and she groaned, tossing her phone back in her purse “Ok, fine…maybe I was.” “Honey, he’ll be ok.” Frank said gently, his hand on her knee “You’re mom and dad did this all before remember?”

“I know, I know…” she said, before she reached over for an olive and popped it in her mouth.

Frank then diverted the subject, got her talking about her afternoon teaching and she animatedly filled him in on how nice it had been to get back to seeing some of her clients. The conversation was easy, fun, they laughed and giggled away and a little over half an hour later when their food arrived they’d worked though their first bottle of wine and Frank then ordered them a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Brut, just as he’d promised.

The food was amazing, Frank couldn’t fault a single thing about it, other than maybe it was a little too good as his jeans definitely felt a little tighter around the waist when they finished their meal because despite the fact he was full he just couldn’t stop eating. As the waiter came to clean the empty dishes away, Fliss then heard her phone going. Reaching into her purse she read the message and smiled before she turned the phone to Frank. It was a picture of Alex, fast asleep against Bill’s chest as he sat in their lounge.

“See.” Frank smile “He’s happy as a pig in shit.” “Frank!” Fliss scoffed, slapping his arm, “Don’t call our baby a pig.” “I was talking about your dad.”

“Oh…I’m so telling him you said that.” She said as they both laughed and she shook her head “You’re a bad man.”

“You love it honey.” He teased and she grinned.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” She leaned over, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss. She glanced down at her phone and smiled again before she put it away “We did good though. We made a pretty cute baby.” “Good genes.” Frank boasted and Fliss laughed and he smiled at her, brushing her hair back behind her ear before he rest his arm along the back of the soft chair she was in. “Ever think you’ll fancy another?”

“Another baby?” Fliss asked and Frank nodded. “Fuck no.” she spluttered and Frank let out a loud laugh. “I mean I wouldn’t change any of this for the world but, well, he wasn’t exactly on my life plan…”

“Good, because I don’t want one either.” He said in between his chuckles as he reached for his champagne flute.

“Well, you know…” Fliss said, mimicking him and picking hers up “There is one way we could make sure it doesn’t happen again…” she moved the hand that wasn’t holding her drink and mimed a pair of scissors snipping the air. Frank choked on his drink, spluttering slightly as the bubbles threatened to fizz down his nose. Fliss roared with laughter as he wiped at his shirt and glared at her.

“Absolutely no way in hell.”

“Why not?” she shrugged.

“Because…well, just no!” he said, grimacing, “I couldn’t do that to Little Frank.” “Little Frank…jesus…I can’t…” Fliss’ laughter grew even louder and the familiar snorting that happened when she was laughing beyond control started, which set Frank off again. She clamped her hand over her mouth, slapping his arm and looked away from him, trying to control herself. Eventually they managed to stop and Frank shook his head, composing himself before he asked for the check.

*****

They hit a cab down to Ferg’s and Fliss squealed when she saw Bonnie, sweeping her up into a huge hug before examining her ring up close whilst Frank shook Simon’s hand, pulling him into a bro hug, slapping his back. They were joined shortly afterwards by the rest of the gang, and when Simon and Bonnie broke their news to everyone there were more loud cheers and a shout of “shots all round” from Jake. Frank kept a careful eye on Fliss, who was already flushed from what they’d drunk over dinner, especially seeing as she hadn’t had a proper drink in over a year now. She downed 2 tequilas and then shook her head when someone asked her if she wanted another, instead requesting a water.

The gang moved to their preferred spot over at one of the tables at the back, round the corner away from the bar area, and they had a good hour or so catch up before the boys wanted to shoot some pool. Together they made their way over to the games area, the girls settling at one of the tall tables by the side.

“So how is the little one?” Greg turned to Frank as Simon and Jake racked the pool balls up, and he beamed in response.

“Ah Greg, he’s fahkin’ awesome.” Frank gushed “I just…he’s great, really great. Other than being a little cock block that is.” Greg snorted “Yeah I hate to break it to you, but that only gets worse as they get older…especially when they learn how to climb out of their crib and come to your room.” “Imma get a lock on the door.” Frank stated simply and Greg laughed as they grabbed a cue each, chalking the end.

They shot one game and then Frank said it was his round, so he headed off to the bar. He nodded to Dave, asking for the same again plus another bottle of water for Fliss and as he headed off to get their drinks, the young woman on the seat next to Frank jumped down from the stool next to him. Frank fished in his pocket for his wallet, pausing as he heard a little yelp and he turned his head to the right to see the guy sat two stools down had his arm curled around the young woman’s upper arm. She tried to get free but the guy’s grip tightened and Frank felt a spike of anger in his chest. All he could see in his mind was Fliss and that bastard ex-husband of hers hurting her. And he knew then he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, let this go.

“We’re not done yet.” The guy said loudly, a sneer on his face as he looked at the girl. Frank quickly stepped up behind her, and he looked at the guy and shook his head.

“Yes, you are.” He said, drawing himself up to full height, shoulders tensing, his eyes not once leaving the douchebag in front of him as he kept his voice calm and level “Let the lady go, man.”

“Mind your business, dick head.”

“It became my business when the whole bar could hear your conversation.” Frank retorted, his tone still calm. “Let her go. Now.”

After a second or so, albeit reluctantly, the asshole did loosen his grip so that the young girl could remove her arm from his hand meaning she could get out of the way. She headed down to the far end of the bar, Frank watching her for a second before he turned back to the man in front of him who was now wobbling to his feet, his fist clenching by his side.

Frank snorted to himself. Was this asshole really going to go there? Sure, the inebriated piece of shit was built, he probably had a good 20 pounds on him, but Frank himself was no push over. He was in decent shape, he knew that, and given his chances against someone who was struggling to stand up straight, well, he’d take them.

“What are you, some kinda knight in shining armor?” the guy snorted. “Fuck you, man!”

Before Frank had time for a rebuttal, asshole had made a run for him and Frank almost lazily sidestepped as the drunk swung a punch at him. Not being able to stop, Mr Drunk asshole pitched forward and smacked into a chair, catching his head on the adjacent table-top. He groaned out in pain as he held his head on the ground.

“Jeff! What the hell is going on?”

Frank looked up to see a group of guys heading back in from the outside of the patio and for the first time he felt a little nervous. He looked around, and to his relief he saw Simon and Jake approaching.

“Get him outta here!” Dave said loudly “Your friend is drunk and startin’ fights in my bar. Get the fuck out before I call the cops.”

The guys were fast to act, quickly shuffling ‘Jeff’ out and cursing at him for ruining their night.

“Fucking prick…” Dave shook his head, before he looked at Frank. “Nice going man, this rounds on the house.” “Thanks Dave…” Frank smiled at him.

“Hey bud, you ok?” Simon clapped Frank on the shoulder as Jake eyed the guys leaving “What the fuck?” “Oh he was hassling some girl.” Frank said, shaking his head, “She was petrified.” “What a dick.” Jake mumbled, turning back to him. “She ok?” “Not sure…” Frank said, looking round the bar as Dave placed the tray of drinks down in front of him. He didn’t know whether she had stayed or scarpered but he soon spotted her. She was sat on a chair, her arms over her stomach at the opposite end of the bar. Frank felt a pang of sympathy for her, she was clearly here on her own for whatever reason. “Do me a favour and take the drinks back to the tables will you?” he said to Jake and Simon, before he strode over, stopping besides her.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked her gently.

“Yeah, thanks to you. Thank you for helping me. You’re like my hero.” she let out a nervous laugh as a pink blush settled on her cheeks.

“You’re welcome but I was just doing what any person would do.” Frank smiled, a little embarrassed at the compliment. “My name’s Frank, by the way. You want some water?”

She offered her name and nodded. Frank turned to Dave “Hey man, can she get a water”?

“Sure.” Dave nodded, reaching into the fridge for a bottle. He passed it over and she took it with a thanks, taking a slow sip before she set the bottle down and looked back at Frank.

“So, Frank. Is there any way I could thank you for your bravery? Maybe treat you to a coffee sometime?” at that she reached forward and put her hand on top of his forearm gently, looking at him expectantly.

Shit. Not another fucking Vegas.

As gently as he could he moved his arm away, coughing a little as he shook his head. “I… uh, thank you for the offer, but not sure my fiancée would appreciate that.”

“Oh, god. I’m sorry.” She blushed again and pulled her hand away.

He smiled kindly at her, but before he could assure her not to worry about it he heard Fliss shouting. “Frank!”

He turned to see her walking towards him, a worried expression on her face. “Are you okay?” “Yeah Lissy, I’m fine.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her temple lightly.

“What happened?” she asked, searching his eyes “Jake and Simon mentioned there’d been a fight and…” “Just some drunken asshole harassing this lady.” He said, nodding to the woman. “I stepped in that’s all. He didn’t hit me, don’t worry.”

Fliss looked at him, then to the woman and back again as Frank introduced her. The young woman reached out and shook Fliss hand as Frank’s arm dropped to her back, gently brushing underneath her top.

"Well, I think I’ve had enough ‘fun’ for the night.” The girl laughed dryly. “I’m gonna head out. Thank you again, Frank. It was nice meeting you Fliss. You’ve got quite a guy."

Fliss looked at Frank whose cheeks had flushed slightly and she nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I do. Take care.”

They stood watching her leave before Fliss turned to Frank, her hands sliding up his chest “Like a regular real life Captain America ain’t you? Standing up for the little guy.”

Frank rolled his eyes “Your Marvel obsession is ridiculous.”

She shrugged as he dropped a kiss to her lips before they headed back over to join their friends.

***** An hour or so later Fliss was ready to go home, her feet hurt, her boobs hurt and she was quite drunk. She leaned over to Frank who was sat next to her, her hand curling round his thigh and he turned to her.

“You ok sweetheart?”

“No, I mean yeah, I mean…” she sighed “I’m ready to go home, do you mind?” “Course not.” He smiled, giving a little chuckle “I’ll get us an Uber ok?”

He reached for his phone, ordered the car and to Fliss’ relief there was one literally round the corner. They stood up, bid their friends good night sharing a few hugs and the like before Frank looped an arm round Fliss’ shoulders, hers slinking around his waist as they walked slowly out of the bar. Frank could tell she was a little unsteady on her feet and he smiled to himself, pleased she’d let go enough to enjoy herself.

Carefully he made sure she got down the steps ok and they walked along the little path that led down to the front of the row of bars that Ferg’s was at the end of. As they emerged onto the road area, waiting for their cab Frank heard a shout.

“Oi..”

He wheeled round and saw the asshole from the bar, Jeff, stumbling towards him as his friends hastily followed, shouting at him to leave it alone.

“Fuck…” Frank mumbled, “Fliss, move honey, quick…” She looked up at him, then to the guy approaching, and he felt her tense. He stepped forward, his arm stretched out to the side, ready to push her behind him but in a flash she ducked under it and before he could stop her she’d raised her fist and smashed it straight into the approaching guy’s face. Her punch connected with a satisfying crack and he dropped like a stone to the floor, clutching his nose which was billowing blood.

His friends appeared once more, apologising profoundly as they hoisted him to his feet, he was groaning and clutching at his face, as they led him away.

“Lissy…” Frank’s voice was a mixture of shock and awe as she turned to him, shaking out her fist.

“Sorry, oh my God that was so bad…” she mumbled, “Was that bad? Are you angry?”

“Angry?” he looked at her, shaking his head “No. Why would- what- where the fuck did you learn to punch like that?”

“Steve.” She shrugged “Haven’t done it in a while…”

Frank blinked as their Uber pulled up and she made her way towards it. He shook himself out of his shocked stance and strode forward, opening the car door for her. He stopped it halfway, causing her to look at him and he dropped his head, his lips brushing her ear. “Baby, I just want you to know that I’m all sorts of turned on right now…”

She looked up at him and her lips quirked up at the side into a cheeky grin. “Best hope this guy doesn’t take the long way home then…” Frank gave a little growl as she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He opened the door fully, to allow her to climb into the back seat, before he hastily followed her in. As the driver set off, Frank leaned forward between the front seats, which wasn’t exactly easy given the bulge in the front of his jeans and he nodded to the driver.

“Extra 5 bucks in it for you pal, if you make it quick…”

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #gifted #gifted fan fic

88 notes · View notes

mulletcal · 4 years

Text

a sunday kind of love (calum hood blurb)

A/N: okay hi hello this is the first piece of writing i’m posting on tumblr so hopefully y’all like it??? i was talking to @talkfastromance4 about soft cal and this is what came of it

Warnings: None, well some very very light mentions of smut but no details??

Word Count: 1,066

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

Sunday’s had never seemed like anything special until you met Calum. The first weekend you had spent at his house was filled with soft kisses, and laying in bed well into the afternoon until your hunger couldn’t be kept at bay anymore. Calum would put on a collection of Motown love songs, because he knew they were your favourite, and he would wrap his arms around your waist, swaying softly as you flipped the pancakes.

This particular Sunday was no different. Friday night when you arrived at Calum’s house for the weekend, he could tell the stresses of the week were etched into your forehead - and his first solution was to run you a warm bath while he ordered food from your favourite Chinese take-out place. He carefully fed it to you while you remained in the bath, Duke confused at the location of the food -- he was too used to sitting patiently by Calum’s foot for something to “accidentally” drop, but he wasn’t a fan of this setting where he risked getting unnecessarily wet.

After dinner, he let you finish up in the bath, laying out his coziest clothes for you to slip into. The warm water had released some of the tension from your shoulders, but seeing how much this man cared for you could have made you melt into a puddle on the floor. Walking through to his room, you found him waiting with the dopiest grin on his lips, arms wide open that you couldn’t resist the urge to practically leap towards.

That’s how the two of you stayed for a majority of the weekend -- soft kisses were shared, but Calum could never resist a more intimate embrace, especially when he hadn’t seen you all week, and he knew you could use some extra loving.

This Sunday morning was no different, you woke up to sunlight streaming onto the bed. You’d be annoyed at the sun for waking you up if it hadn’t meant Calum wasn’t also cast in the same glow of the sun, making him look even more ethereal looking than he normally did. Resisting the urge to snap a picture of him like this, you simply nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck instead, his scruff tickling your forehead making you chuckle softly.

You could feel him stir, a low grumble in his chest as he tugged you closer to his chest, his fingers gripping your waist. His touch always sent electricity through your veins, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips, trailing your fingertips up his back gently in a light scratching motion, making him hum in appreciation. Your lips lazily began making the trek up his neck, and along his jaw, essentially anywhere you could reach since you couldn’t reach his lips.

“What’re ya doin’?” He asked, his voice still hazy with sleep.

“Kissin’ you, what does it seem like handsome?” Was your simple reply, going in to kiss his jaw again before he turned his face to get a better angle of you, noses bumping together clumsily. This action made the two of you share a small laugh, your opposite hand from the one on his back reaching up to brush his hair away. “Morning,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his once more.

Calum brushed his lips against yours, barely touching them -- that is, until you tugged his hair and pulled him in for a gentle kiss, causing him to smile against your lips. “Mornin’ love,” he hummed, returning his nose to brush against yours, “If it really even is morning anymore.”

Lifting his head carefully to glance at the clock behind you, he chuckled at the time reading 11:32am, “It’s still technically morning for another twenty-eight minutes,” He said in a matter-of-fact tone, grinning down at you.

“Well then I guess we’d better go make breakfast before it’s too late--” You’d whine, stretching to make an attempt at getting up. You knew you’d be met with resistance immediately, but it was fun to make him work for it in some way.

Feeling his strong arms pull you back, a small grunt escaping you as you landed back against him, Calum mumbling a small, “No stay,” as he buried his face in your neck.

“M’right here, bubba, not going anywhere. We do need food though,” you sighed, raking your fingers through his hair.

This was how you stayed until well after 1 in the afternoon, your stomach giving away how truly hungry you were. The noise was met with a chuckle from Calum, finally getting out of bed and slipping on some sweats and a t-shirt, yourself opting for his shorts and his sweater. When you got to the kitchen, he quickly made sure Duke’s food bowl was filled, letting him outside as you set up the music for that morning. Feeling in a slightly different mood than your usual upbeat mood, you chose Etta James’ “At Last!” album, selecting ‘A Sunday Kind of Love’ first, letting the music softly play from the speaker.

When Calum walked back inside, his lips quirked up in a boyish grin, wrapping his arms around your waist, waiting until you wrapped your arms around his neck before he began to sway. Calum pressed his forehead against yours, singing the words softly to you, his eyes never leaving yours, smile never leaving his lips as you danced.

The song ended, and you pulled Calum into a gentle kiss -- the kind of kiss that always left your knees weak, and your heart racing. He truly was your Sunday kind of love, in every sense of the phrase. You realized how much you wanted this - wanted him - for as long as he’d take you. The lazy Sunday mornings, the cheering from the side of the stage as he and the rest of the boys played their hearts out for thousands of adoring people, you wanted it all.

“What’s going through that amazing mind of yours, baby?” He asked, brushing your hair away from your face, eyes concerned.

“Just thinkin’ bout how much I love you bub,” you said with a quiet giggle, fingers playing with the blonde hairs on the back of his neck.

“Love you more,” Came his simple reply, squeezing you closer to him as he swayed back and forth to the next song, simply humming the words now as he did so.

#calum hood fanfiction #calum hood blurb #calum hood fluff #calum hood #5sos fanfiction

433 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Riding On

Ch 15- TFI Friday

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW, no under 18s…)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 14

And then it further dawned on him that it didn't actually matter because Mary still needed to get up and ready for school regardless of his day off or not.

But then…it was Friday. Her university day…which meant she wasn’t due in until 10…

"Morning Cowgirl" He said, closing his eyes and snuggling closer into her. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“The alarm did.” She shifted slightly before she propped herself up to check on Alex who was fast asleep "Yeah, now he sleeps" she grumbled.

Frank gave a chuckle and pressed another kiss to her neck. “Yeah he was really not playing ball last night was he?"

"Three times." She groaned "He's a bottomless pit Frank."

"I told you to stay on bed for the third." Frank sighed.

"Once I'm awake I'm awake." She shrugged. "He cries and it’s like my boobs send an alarm to my brain.”

Frank chuckled "Well like your mom suggested, introducing the formula should help. He'll fill up from less and give you a break."

"You mean because I can't feed him what he needs myself." She let put a sigh and at that Frank took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Hey, look at me." He said sternly and she rolled onto her back, her brown eyes blinking up at him, auburn and blonde hair splayed across her pillow. "You checked with the doctor, she said this perfectly normal..."

"Then why do I feel so shit." She asked, tears brimming her eyes "I can't even feed our baby properly.”

"Oh, Lissy, come ‘ere..." He sighed gently as she rolled onto her side facing him, his arms cradling her close as she pressed her face into his chest, sniffling "Honey, you're a wonderful mom. Don't start beating yourself up about something that in the grand scheme of things really doesn't matter."

"It matters to me Frank."

"You think he gives a shit whether what he's getting is from you or not? Does he fuck, he just wants food." Frank told her softly, his hand rubbing up and down her back, underneath the sleep cami she was wearing. "If anything the fact you're doing this shows how much of a good mom you are. You spotted something that he needs and you're doing what you have to do to give it to him.” She stayed silent bar her little sniffles and he gently pressed a kiss to her head. "Don't think on it too much Fliss. I know it must feel shitty for you but he'll be fine. That I can promise you."

She took a deep breath and pulled back to look at him, and he gently brushed his lips against hers, the hand that was on her back stopping in the middle of the spine, holding her to him, kissing her lazily. She took it eagerly, allowing him to slowly ease her over onto her back, caging her underneath his body as his mouth moved to her jawline then her neck. She gave a soft sigh, her hands sliding into his sleep-messed hair and he’d just moved his mouth downwards, softly nipping at her chest through her top when, with his ever perfect timing, Alex let out a little whine.

Fliss looked down at her boobs and then shrugged “Well seeing as he fed three times over night they’re not that swollen so…” Frank gave a snort as she looked at him, arching her eyebrows “Hey, the struggle is real, ok?"

“I didn’t suggest otherwise.” He hopped out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats, yanking at the crotch as they felt a little tight thanks to the fact he was half hard, and a T-shirt as Fliss leaned over, gently rubbing Alex’s tummy. “Hey.” Frank looked at her as he picked his son up, gently placing a large hand on his back “If you’re swapping over to formula, does that mean Ben and Jerry are gonna go smaller?” he nodded at her chest “Because if so I may be forced to reconsider my stance on the situation.”

“If you didn’t have hold of our son I’d punch you.” Fliss glared and he gave a chuckle before he headed out of the room.

Alex looked at him, blinking slowly.

By now Alex’s fairly decent mood had started to wane as he was hungry. The noises he made were getting louder and slightly more impatient, threatening to turn into an out and out cry.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s coming pal…” Frank dropped a gentle kiss to the downy hair on Alex’s head “I know, you’re hungry...despite the fact you had midnight, 1.30 am and 4am snack…”

He settled on the sofa, flicked on the TV for the morning news, positioned Alex and gave him his bottle, watching with a soft smile on his face as the baby’s cheeks worked hungrily taking the mix of breast and formula in the bottle. They’d started this just a few days or so ago after Fliss had simply been unable to stop him crying from hunger Tuesday afternoon and called her mom in a flap. She’d suggested doing what Steve and Sian had had to do with the twins, seeing as both of those had been greedy little bastards too so after a call to the Paediatrician, Fliss had reluctantly agreed. Frank did sympathise with her, and he’d been waiting for the inevitable tears which had finally come that morning, but it would be much easier for her in the long run all things considered, especially if as the doctor had suggested she could move to formula fully bar a morning feed.

Supporting Alex in one arm, he absentmindedly watched the anchor and co-anchor on the CNN morning news where they were talking to someone about a Thanksgiving tradition or something, he wasn’t really paying much attention if he was honest. It freaked him out how fast it was creeping up on them. Soon it would be fucking Christmas. Thankfully, Fliss seemed to be on top of it mostly. They were hosting a small Thanksgiving with his mother then heading over to Verity and Bill’s for the usual party, and for Christmas Steve, Sian and the boys were over so they were spending the day at Verity and Bill’s along with Roberta and his mother…which was always fun. It never ceased to amaze him how welcoming Fliss’ family had been to his own fucked up version of one.

Lost in his thoughts, he was jerked from them by a little popping noise and he looked down to see Alex had moved away from the bottle, and to his astonishment there was a small amount left.

“Finally full up buddy?” Frank asked, offering Alex the bottle again but he turned his head away un interested. “Guess so.” Frank smiled, placing the bottle on the coffee table and moving Alex so he was leaning against his chest, head on his shoulder as he burped him. It took a little while but eventually he obliged and Frank chuckled, turning his head to look at him, bright blue eyes staring around the room. He was developing so fast now, it was ridiculous.

“Shall we go wake your sister up?” He asked softly, “Yeah, okay, come on.”

“Where’s Bean?” she asked.

“Mary’s watching him for a second so I could bring you that.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’ll take him with me when I drop Mary off. He likes the truck. I might pop into the shop for twenty minutes or so, the guys haven’t seen him in a while and I like showing him off.” Frank smiled a little bashfully and Fliss’ smile grew even larger. “Imma dress him in his Made In Boston T-shirt…”

Fliss chuckled “I still can’t believe Bonnie and Simon got him that.” “Oh, I can.” Frank nodded “In fact, that’s quite tame for what I expected from Si to be honest.” “Yeah, that’s true…” Fliss conceded “Oh, don’t forget, I’m teaching at two for an hour.” “I’ll be well back before then.” Frank snorted, “It’s not even eight yet.” “I know I was just pointing out you can have some more male bonding time then too.” “Great, maybe I’ll introduce him to Debbie Does Dallas…” Frank teased and Fliss snorted

“Well, we know he likes boobs so…”

*****

Yup, Frank Adler was a big fan of getting dirty in the shower.

“Room for another?” he asked, cheekily, pulling off his T-shirt. Fliss jumped a little as she hadn’t heard him come in and then turned to look at him through the shower screen, most of her body obscured by the frosted glass pattern. She grinned and raised her hand, making a beckoning motion with her finger. In a flash he shed the remainder of his clothing and stepped into the large cubicle with her, his hands reaching out for her hips, pulling her towards him, so her back was pressed to his chest.

“I believe we have unfinished business Miss Gallagher.” He said, feeling her slick skin pressing against his as he nipped at her neck.

“Really?” she pondered, “I don’t recall…”

“No?” he teased, his lips placing another kiss to her wet skin, “Maybe this will jog your memory…”

“Turn around…” Frank whispered into her ear and she did as she was told, greeting his lips in a filthy kiss as he pivoted her round so that her back was pressed to the wall of the shower cubicle. His mouth moved from hers to her jawline, the whiskers of his beard gently sliding over her skin as he dipped his head to kiss her collar bone before he rather gracefully dropped to his knees. He glanced up at her, deep brown met ocean blue, her eyes full with a heady combination of love, desire and lust and it drew a low growl from his throat as he reached down for her left ankle. With a steady hand Frank lifted it over his right shoulder and gently kissed and sucked his way up her leg, leaving a nip at the apex of her thigh. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the tiles as he moved to where she wanted him the most, his tongue long and flat against her centre as he lapped at her entrance all the way up to her sensitive bud. Her body jolted as she let out a soft sigh of his name which was laced with satisfaction as he set his mouth to work.

Fliss’ wrecked brain had barely registered his mouth was on hers when he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as the water cascaded down on them both. With his hands on her hips, he spun her round, pulling her back, nudging her ankles with his feet to open her up a little more. With one palm on the base of her back he gently bent her forward ever so slightly, took his throbbing cock in his hand and lined himself up. With a gentle, slow movement he slipped inside, burying himself in her heat, the rumble from his throat slipping out of his mouth at the relief of finally being inside her. Once he was fully sheathed his hands moved, one to her stomach, holding her in place, the other up to her breasts as she arched her back, her head back against his shoulder as he drove in and out of her, slowly, deliberately. Her right hand moved back to grab at his thigh, her fingertips digging into the hard muscle as he thrust forward, the other hand flat reached back to tangle in his hair.

“God you feel so good, baby.” He groaned, his mouth licking a stripe up the side of her neck as her head lolled to the right, tracing her wet skin up to her jaw line, “So fahkin’ good…”

“Go one, come for me baby…” he nipped at her ear “I got you, I promise…”

“Good girl…” he praised as he continued thrusting through, the heat in his own belly now beginning to spike even more, “Such a good girl for me…”

“You should take the day off more often” she quipped and Frank could do nothing but laugh.

“I fahkin’ love you.” He chuckled and she grinned, giving a shrug.

“I’m a very lovable person.”

“That you are cowgirl.” He nodded, “That you are.”

*****

Fliss gave a groan and held her hands up. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You’ve left him with us before, this is no different.” Verity looked at her “No go, go on, scoot.”

Over Fliss’ shoulder, Frank shot Verity a wink as he dropped his hand to the curve of his girl’s lower back. “Come on Lissy, we’ll be late otherwise.”

“Yeah, and I wanna get back to eat.” Bill said, twirling his car keys.

“Maybe I should drive?” Fliss looked at Frank who took a deep breath as Verity made an annoyed noise in her throat.

“If you want to drive, then that’s up to you.” Frank replied patiently as she bit her lip. “Be a shame though, I was gonna treat you to that champagne you demanded. Maybe not quite a swimming pool full but…”

Fliss looked at him for a second before she shook her head “I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologising.” He chuckled softly “Lissy, what do you want to do?”

“Doesn’t matter, we’re staying so be as late as you want.”

That and simply love her, which was a given, because he did with every single breath he took.

“You look gorgeous.” He smiled at her as they walked to her dad’s car. She blushed a little and glanced down at the dark blue peplum top she was wearing, coupled with faded jeans and a white denim jacket. She’d been over the moon to find out she could fit back in those jeans so he wasn’t surprised she’d chosen them for the evening. On her feet she wore a simple pair of yellow heeled pumps, complete with matching bag. Her hair was down in loose waves, and her make-up was simple, a light dusting of rose gold powder on her lids.

“Thanks.” She smiled, before she eyed him up and down and he grinned as he knew full well what she was thinking, given that he was dressed in his yellow and black palm-tree Hawaiian print shirt.

“You said my shit shits were endearing.” He quipped and she gave a laugh, shrugging.

“You wouldn’t be Frank without them.”

Fliss declined the front seat when Frank offered it to her, instead climbing into the back behind her dad taking the time to check up on a few emails and the yard’s social media accounts. The three of them made easy chat on the way into St Pete’s and thanked Bill for the lift as they both climbed out. Fliss instructed her dad to call them if there was any problems and he simply rolled his eyes and told her to “piss off and have a good time”.

But not his Fliss.

As it was still early and they wanted to chill out, they had opted to eat in the more casual outside lounge area which sported the roof bar and offered an all evening Tapas style menu, not the full a la carte main restaurant menu. As such they were led through to their table on the veranda. Neither of them had been into this part since the refurb, the last time Fliss came it hadn’t been finished but now, she felt a smile cross her face as she looked around. It was cosy and casual, right up her street. The tables were slightly lower than normal and appeared to all be different shapes and sizes, made out of driftwood and pallets. They were decked with large candles held in jars in the middle and surrounded by comfy chairs and bean bags all of which sported blankets given that the time of year meant sometimes in the evening it could be quite chilly at night. In the middle of the veranda was a large stone fire pit which was covered by an ornamental, wrought iron cage that spiralled to a point some eight feet off the ground, and the bar stood to the rear right hand corner with a few people sat down enjoying a drink.

“Oh my God, I love it.” Fliss muttered to Frank and he looked down at her, nodding.

“This is pretty cool” he conceded.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, looking at her.

She nodded “Rustic, causal, bean bags, blankets…that type of thing…although it won’t be that cold then…”

“If you want blankets, baby, you can have blankets.” He chuckled kissing her forehead as they settled down onto the comfy plush seats which, to Fliss’ delight were also bean bags just shaped differently. The teenage kid who had shown them to their table soon returned with the menus and informed them that as it was the first week they’d opened the terrace, with every bottle of wine purchased, there was complementary charcuterie tasting platter included. Fliss’ eyes lit up and Frank knew why, it was probably her favourite thing to eat in the world and he had to admit, she did a pretty wicked board herself when they were entertaining. With that in mind, he ordered them a bottle of Pinot Grigio and they sat back, Frank’s arm dropping over Fliss’ shoulders as she looked around.

“You do?” Frank asked.

“Yup. I want food trucks. Mexican and Pizza.”

Frank cocked his head to one side, smiling as he looked at her “That’s actually a fucking brilliant idea.”

“No fancy sit down meal, if it stays for a couple of hours then people can grab what they want when they want.”

“I don’t know, I lost track of time…been kinda busy.” She teased as Frank chuckled, leaning down to give her a soft kiss.

Frank reached over for the wine bottle to top Fliss’ glass up and she thanked him, taking another sip, before he saw her bite her lip and she reached into her purse.

“Congratulations.” He said dryly, teasing her a little as she turned to him. He nodded to the phone “You made it like forty five minutes since we walked out of the door without checking up on him.” “I wasn’t…” she began to protest and he gave her a look and she groaned, tossing her phone back in her purse “Ok, fine…maybe I was.” “Honey, he’ll be ok.” Frank said gently, his hand on her knee “Your mom and dad did this all before remember?”

“I know, I know…” she said, before she reached over for an olive and popped it in her mouth.

“See.” Frank smile “He’s happy as a pig in shit.”

“Frank!” Fliss scoffed, slapping his arm, “Don’t call our baby a pig.”

“I was talking about your dad.”

“Oh…I’m so telling him you said that.” She said as they both laughed and she shook her head “You’re a bad man.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” He teased and she grinned.

“Good genes.” Frank boasted and Fliss laughed and he smiled at her, brushing her hair back behind her ear before he rest his arm along the back of the soft chair she was in. “Ever think you’ll fancy another?”

“Good, because I don’t want one either.” He said in between his chuckles as he reached for his champagne flute.

“Absolutely no way in hell.”

“Why not?” she shrugged.

*****

They hit a cab down to Fergs and Fliss squealed when she saw Bonnie, sweeping her up into a huge hug before examining her ring up close whilst Frank shook Simon’s hand, pulling him into a bro hug, slapping his back. They were joined shortly afterwards by the rest of the gang, and when Simon and Bonnie broke their news to everyone there were more loud cheers and a shout of “shots all round” from Jake. Frank kept a careful eye on Fliss, who was already flushed from what they’d drunk over dinner, especially seeing as she hadn’t had a proper drink in over a year now. She downed 2 tequilas and then shook her head when someone asked her if she wanted another, instead requesting a water.

“So how is the little one?” Greg turned to Frank as Simon and Jake racked the pool balls up, and he beamed in response.

“Ah Greg, he’s fahkin’ awesome.” Frank gushed “I just…he’s great, really great. Other than being a little cock block that is.”

Greg snorted “Yeah I hate to break it to you, but that only gets worse as they get older…especially when they learn how to climb out of their crib and come to your room.”

“Imma get a lock on the door.” Frank stated simply and Greg laughed as they grabbed a cue each, chalking the end.

“We’re not done yet.” The guy said loudly, a sneer on his face as he looked at the girl. Frank quickly stepped up behind her, and he looked at the guy and shook his head.

“Mind your business, dick head.”

“It became my business when the whole bar could hear your conversation.” Frank retorted, his tone still calm. “Let her go. Now.”

“What are you, some kinda knight in shining armor?” the guy snorted. “Fuck you, man!”

“Jeff! What the hell is going on?”

“Get him outta here!” Dave said loudly “Your friend is drunk and startin’ fights in my bar. Get the fuck out before I call the cops.”

The guys were fast to act, quickly shuffling ‘Jeff’ out and cursing at him for ruining their night.

“Fucking prick.” Dave shook his head, before he looked at Frank. “Nice going man, this rounds on the house.” “Thanks Dave.” Frank smiled at him.

“Hey bud, you ok?” Simon clapped Frank on the shoulder as Jake eyed the guys leaving “What the fuck?” “Oh he was hassling some girl.” Frank said, shaking his head, “She was petrified.” “What a dick.” Jake mumbled, turning back to him. “She ok?” “Not sure.” Frank said, looking round the bar as Dave placed the tray of drinks down in front of him. He didn’t know whether she had stayed or scarpered but he soon spotted her. She was sat on a chair, her arms over her stomach at the opposite end of the bar. Frank felt a pang of sympathy for her, she was clearly here on her own for whatever reason. “Do me a favour and take the drinks back to the tables will you?” he said to Jake and Simon, before he strode over, stopping besides her.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked her gently.

“Yeah, thanks to you. Thank you for helping me. You’re like my hero.” She let out a nervous laugh as a pink blush settled on her cheeks.

“You’re welcome but I was just doing what any person would do.” Frank smiled, a little embarrassed at the compliment. “My name’s Frank, by the way. You want some water?”

She offered her name and nodded. Frank turned to Dave “Hey man, can she get a water”?

“Sure.” Dave nodded, reaching into the fridge for a bottle. He passed it over and she took it with a thanks, taking a slow sip before she set the bottle down and looked back at Frank.

Shit. Not another fucking Vegas.

As gently as he could he moved his arm away, coughing a little as he shook his head. “I… uh, thank you for the offer, but not sure my fiancée would appreciate that.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” She blushed again and pulled her hand away.

He smiled kindly at her, but before he could assure her not to worry about it he heard Fliss shouting. “Frank!”

He turned to see her walking towards him, a worried expression on her face. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, Lissy I’m fine.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her temple lightly.

“What happened?” She asked, searching his eyes. “Jake and Simon mentioned there’d been a fight and…” “Just some drunken asshole harassing this lady.” He said, nodding to the woman. “I stepped in that’s all. He didn’t hit me, don’t worry.”

"Well, I think I’ve had enough ‘fun’ for the night.” The girl laughed dryly. “I’m gonna head out. Thank you again, Frank. It was nice meeting you Fliss. You’ve got quite a guy."

Fliss looked at Frank whose cheeks had flushed slightly and she nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I do. Take care.”

They stood watching her leave before Fliss turned to Frank, her hands sliding up his chest “Like a regular real life Captain America ain’t you? Standing up for the little guy.”

Frank rolled his eyes “Your Marvel obsession is ridiculous.”

She shrugged as he dropped a kiss to her lips before they headed back over to join their friends.

“You ok sweetheart?”

“No, I mean yeah, I mean…” she sighed “I’m ready to go home, do you mind?” “Course not.” He smiled, giving a little chuckle “I’ll get us an Uber ok?”

Carefully he made sure she got down the steps ok and they walked along the little path that led down to the front of the small row of beach bars that Ferg’s was at the end of. As they emerged onto the road area, waiting for their cab Frank heard a shout.

“Oi!”

He wheeled round and saw the asshole from the bar, Jeff, stumbling towards him as his friends hastily followed, shouting at him to leave it alone.

“Fuck.” Frank mumbled, “Fliss, move honey, quick.” She looked up at him, then to the guy approaching, and he felt her tense. He stepped forward, his arm stretched out to the side, ready to push her behind him but in a flash she ducked under it and before he could stop her she’d raised her fist and smashed it straight into the approaching guy’s face. Her punch connected with a satisfying crack and he dropped like a stone to the floor, clutching his nose which was billowing blood.

His friends appeared once more, apologising profoundly as they hoisted him to his feet, he was groaning and clutching at his face, as they led him away.

“Lissy!” Frank’s voice was a mixture of shock and awe as she turned to him, shaking out her fist.

“Sorry, oh my God that was so bad!” She mumbled, “Was that bad? Are you angry?”

“Angry?” He looked at her, shaking his head “No. Why would- what- where the fuck did you learn to punch like that?”

“Steve.” She shrugged “Haven’t done it in a while.”

She looked up at him and her lips quirked up at the side into a cheeky grin. “Best hope this guy doesn’t take the long way home then.” Frank gave a little growl as she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He opened the door fully, to allow her to climb into the back seat, before he hastily followed her in. As the driver set off, Frank leaned forward between the front seats, which wasn’t exactly easy given the bulge in the front of his jeans and he nodded to the driver.

“Extra 5 bucks in it for you pal, if you make it quick…”

**** Chapter 16 Part 1

#frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

49 notes · View notes

nadiestar · 4 years

Note

how about human au!moceit where some people (other sides perhaps) only know one half of the couple and assume that his partner is similar to him. so theyre very surprised when they meet the other half of the couple and hes seemingly his polar opposite. bonus points if the people get to see glimpses of a side of the half they know that they never anticipated existed

Hey! Thank you for the request! Sorry it took me so long, it was my first time writing a human au and I hope it's okay^^

I've also put it on AO3

“I can't believe we still haven't met your lucky special someone! How long have you been dating again? Five months?” Roman said dramatically as he walked backwards in front of his bubbly friend.

Patton shrugged his shoulders, his happy expression unfading.

“Stop pestering him about it Roman. He must figuratively be fed up with the topic,” Logan sighed and pulled Roman a little to the side so he didn't walk into a street lamp.

Roman winked as a thank at Logan but then quickly shot back: “Don't talk over Pat! He's able to tell me to shut up about his boyfriend if he needs me to.”

“Have to agree there, Lo,” Patton chimed in cheerily. “And I really don't mind it. He's just such a darling. I love you guys being so curious about him.”

“For being so keen on us asking questions about him, you surely provide very little information about his person. Roman step to the left, there's a mailbox.”

“What? You know plenty about him!” Patton disagreed and turned to the left into the little cafe where they were headed.

“If knowing that he's the cutest, sweetest and most adorable being you ever met counts as plenty, then sure,” Roman said slightly frustrated. “If not, we know kinda nothing about him but that. I mean how does he even look like?”

“What does he do for work?” Logan said and pulled the chair out for Patton at their usual table before he sat down himself.

“Yes, and where does he live? What are his hobbies?”

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Patton appeased and watched his two far too protective and curious friends shut up for the moment.

Just then a waiter came to their table and the three ordered their dinner. It was a tradition for them to come here every Friday and eat together for the last four years. Since then Logan and Patton worked at the same school complex, Patton as homeroom teacher for 2nd graders and Logan as history teacher for 8th graders, and Roman had opened his dance school close to the premises. They had known each other for far longer but only since then they finally got their tight-knitted comradery back.

“I guess you really don’t know that much about him. But I just much rather had you guys meet him directly and ask him all of those questions himself. It doesn’t feel right to talk over him, you know?” Patton explained and gave Logan his puppy eyed look.

That, despite Logan always denying it, had its usual very effective effect and the stern-faced man became lenient.

“It is understandable that you wouldn’t want to talk over him but…” Logan started and shot a look over to Roman who promptly picked the statement up.

“You seem to be so serious about this guy, Patty. And we just want to be sure he’s just amazing enough for you. You really don’t deserve another heartbreak, you know?”

Patton’s smile deflated a bit. Yes, he has been through enough, hadn’t he? Maybe he could let himself have some fun with this, as a treat.

And with that slightly mischievous thought in mind Patton offered to both of his friends now again with smile: “I get that. I could bring him over, now that he’s back from his last job… Ro would you mind if I’d introduce him to you all at the little party you and your brother throw tomorrow?”

Roman was quick to agree and the three dropped the topic in exchange of gossiping about noisy parents they had to deal with the last week.

___

Virgil put the soda down next to the fridge how Remus had instructed. He had brought it along because the hairdresser had asked him too, as he had too little time to go to the store and make everything ready for the party they were had tonight. Well, party was not the right word for it.

It was a little celebration for Remus and Roman, who finally had been able to afford an okay flat and get away from their old neighbourhood. Both had invited their friends and it was a first for Virgil to actually meet his friend’s twin and in extension his friends.

“Anything else I can help you with, Rem?” Virgil asked and leaned against the doorsill as Remus filled some chips in a bowl.

“Nah! You’re good! I think I’ve got everything done for later. Now we can just chill and relax until my brother’s turning up,” Remus said and ushered Virgil into the living room.

Remus came after him in a bit and put the chips in the middle of the coffee table and flopped down on the couch next to Janus. The man with the bowler hat glanced up from his phone, elegantly slid it in his pocket and then addressed his friends.

“Apologize me not helping more,” he said and looked over to Virgil, who pushed Janus’s crutch a little to the right so he could sit down in the beanbag.

“No worries man. After such a long flight anybody’d be tired. And it’s not like I did much more than you,” Virgil responded and barely caught the soda bottle Remus threw over to him.

Remus snickered as Virgil have him a pissed look while Janus smirked. Then the he told Janus: “Also, it’s just nice having you around for this! It will be fun to annoy my goody-two-shoes brother with you!”

Janus grin got a little more mischievous and he wanted to answer when suddenly Virgil took over the word.

“So, who exactly is your brother bringing along? Like are it a lot of people?”

“Don’t fret worrywart. It’s only two guys and the boyfriend of one of them. And he said that the one without boyfriend asked the same thing so I doubt we’re going to be loud and wild tonight.”

“What a pity. And I had hoped I’d be able to show you all my sick dance moves,” Janus deadpanned.

Both snickered at his comment and they chatted for a while as the afternoon progressed. They talked about how Virgil’s thrift store had been going the last month and what kind of people had come to Janus’s readings oversees. As usual a bit of bickering ensued and eventually the conversation reached its usual topic.

“So,” Remus said and wiggled his eyebrows, “how happy has your lover been having you back? Already had time for a quickie?”

Janus rolled his eyes and faltered a bit as he responded: “I’ve only come back yesterday and I was dead beat so – No quickie.”

“Oooh. What a disappointment for your Casanova,” Virgil teased and watched Janus fidgeting in his seat.

“He was quite understanding, thank you very much. And sex is by far not all we do together.”

“Really?” Virgil bounced back and shot an amused look to Remus, who was just as amused by their friend’s defensiveness. “It’s all you ever talk about when it comes to him. So, it’s not our fault for jumping to the assumption that that’s all you too are after.”

Janus mumbled something indistinctively and flicked his hand before he shot Virgil a dooming look, which left Virgil utterly unimpressed.

“He is very dear to me and – well of all partners I had in the bast he certainly is the most remarkable one,” Janus stated but didn’t get any further as the doorbell rang and the door got unlocked by a very loud and energetic Roman who just had gotten home from work.

Janus and Virgil quickly looked over to the tall tanned man. He was just as slim as his brother, dark curly hair and soft brown eyes. He also was smiling but it seemed to be much less demented but a bit more flashing. Also, there was now terrible moustache over his lips which also was a very distinguishing feature for Remus.

“Hello gentlemen! It’s a pleasure to meet you all!” Roman said with a slight bow, turned with an immediate decrease of charm and flair to Remus and asked: “Have you already offered them something to drink? And you didn’t ask them to help out right? They’re our guests!”

“Jeez. You’re acting like mum!” Remus pouted and the two brothers started to bicker for a moment before Roman excused himself and said he had to change clothes.

“He’s quite the character,” Virgil said with furrowed brows as Roman disappeared in the hallway and Remus let out a huff and then a weak laugh.

“Sure is, and it’s a pest. But rather have him around than not.”

All three silently nodded at that and then Remus got up. He asked them if they wanted coffee and went into the kitchen to make some. Meanwhile Roman came back into the living room and properly introduced himself to his two guests. They had met each other before but only in passing, when one of them dropped Remus off after a long night back in the days when he still was working as a barkeeper. In the not so easy days, but that was now over and they could focus on the present.

They got along fairly well, Roman seemed a little stuck up but knowing about Remus’s past both Janus and Virgil could put one and one together and knew that it was probably just a façade he put up until he knew he could trust them well enough. And they could respect that. After a moment Remus joined them again, a coffee for Janus, Virgil and Roman at the ready and a tea for himself. He was quick to poke fun at Roman and Janus had no problem playing into the teasing and getting a few mock-offended gasps from Roman.

“When are your guests coming?” Remus asked Roman and looked over to the clock they had hanging on the wall.

“Lo is always punctual on the minute. Well, maybe a minute earlier or so but he’ll be here at seven. Patty’s gonna be late. He can’t help it,” Roman answered and shrugged.

Remus nodded at the answer and asked if he would come and help him getting dinner ready. Roman agreed and the two let Janus and Virgil entertain themselves for the next few minutes. And one minute before seven the door rang and Remus instructed Virgil out from the kitchen to get the door. With a huff Virgil got up and opened the door.

A black-haired man in a navy polo shirt and dark jeans stood in front of the door and adjusted his glasses as he saw who had opened the door.

“You’re Roman’s friend?” it came from Virgil and the man nodded quickly.

He then added helpfully: “Yes, I’ve met him when he gave a dance course in our school-” He stretched his hand out – “Logan. I assume you are an acquaintance of his brother?”

“Got that right Logan. I’m Virgil. Come in. They’re in the kitchen,” Virgil said hoping to sound not too anxious.

Logan followed and looked at the two strangers in the room. Virgil was a small man with brightly died purple hair, wearing a worn-out sweater with purple patches and black skinny jeans and had apparently known Remus since college, as he soon learnt. The other man, Janus as he introduced himself, was a man of average height and blond hair, wearing a black turtleneck sweater and slacks. Logan recognized him soon as a rather-well known YA author and got into a conversation about literature. Virgil listened amused to their bantering and shot a lopsided grin at Remus when he came out of the kitchen to greet Logan properly.

“Jay, can you come for a second? Roman needs you to taste the sauce to make sure it’s not too spice for your fragile little togue,” Remus asked his friend who got up with a huff.

“I am not fragile!” Janus hissed and walked to the kitchen as Remus rolled his eyes at his dramatics.

“I didn’t say that,” Remus mumbled and then inquired what Logan wanted to drink and brought him some soda from the kitchen.

As Remus gave Logan his drink it rang and he went to get the door.

And as Remus opened the door he was met with the sight of a bubbly, brown-haired man. He smiled widely, had freckles all over his face and a pair of round glasses. He had to look up to him and bobbed on the spot, in his sky blue cat hoodie and light brown jeans with rainbow patches sewed on the knees, and for the first time in very long while Remus found himself thinking that this person just looked objectively adorable.

“Hello! Thank you so much for inviting me to your home!” this cute little man said cheerfully and Remus simply had to smile.

“My pleasure! You’re Patton then?”

For a second the man blinked and then sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“Yes, exactly!”

Remus laughed and bid him in. He then wanted to introduce him to Virgil, as Patton suddenly looked over to the hallway with glee in his eyes. Curious he followed the look and saw Janus just walking outside of the kitchen and staring at the newcomer with wide eyes.

“Janny!” Patton exclaimed joyfully, ran to him and gave him a soft hug.

Bedazzled Remus, Virgil and Logan stared at the pair and their bedazzlement only grew as they saw “Jannie’s” flustered face after they parted and heard him stutter: “I didn’t know you were coming too, honey.”

“What are you saying?” Patton laughed and fixed Janus’s collar. “I’ve told you last night before we went to bed that I also was invited to the twins party! You know I’m one of Roman’s best friends!”

“I certainly heard that,” Janus mumbled and Patton promptly put a kiss on Janus’s cheek.

Virgil and Remus stared at Janus. Suave and charming Janus all red and flustered by the words of the human embodiment of a Care Bear. Meanwhile Logan had a hard time realizing that he had just met his year-long friend’s boyfriend and talked with said boyfriend about the value of romance in YA books.

“You’re fucking this muffin of a person?” Remus exclaimed and Logan finally lost it and let his glass drop and spill soda all over the floor.

Roman came right running out of the kitchen as Patton doubled over with laughter and Janus’s face turned a new shade of red.

“And apparently this muffin is quite naughty,” Virgil added with a nervous giggle and got up to help Logan clean up the mess he made.

Meanwhile Janus found his words again and hissed towards Remus: “Would you not speak like this about my partner? He’s not a child.”

“Come on, Janny! It’s fine,” Patton said with a wheeze and nudged his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I love that you apparently only told them about our sex life. You’re such a goofy man.”

“And you never told us that you moved in together!” it came from the agitated Logan who almost let his glass drop again as he gesticulated widely.

“Move in together?! How- What on earth did I just miss?” Roman chimed in and looked between Janus and Patton now finally registering that the former held Patton’s hand tightly.

“Ahh, kiddos! Don’t worry, I would have told you had we done that. Janny just stayed with me, because I picked him up last night and my place is closer to the airport.”

Roman’s mind went blank for a few seconds before he eyed up Janus again and then looked over to Patton and deadpanned: “You’re telling me that this sassy man in black is the most adorable person you’ve ever known? That’s the man? Because if so, quite honestly, I feel offended.”

At that Remus and Virgil started to giggle and the evening continued to be quite entertaining for them all as Janus and Patton uncovered the truth about each other and meanwhile casually extended their circle of shared friends.

___

@aprincehasgotoslay

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

#sanders sides #moceit #romantic moceit #Mims Requests

107 notes · View notes

ravenforce · 4 years

Text

Cheating Death VII

Warning/s: Angsty?

Summary: You, Nat, and Carol has arrived at a crossroad. It’s time to decide.

A/N: Hello, hello! I’m alive. I’m so sorry for being AWOL and I feel the need to explain why I’m taking forever to write, its because I’ve been in-charge of taking care of SIX two weeks old kittens. Their mom was an outdoor cat who lives in our garage, she died of an accident, orphaning six cuties.

It was a terrible few weeks, the kittens at that age needed to be fed every two hours. So, yes, I wake up every two hours to bottle feed six kittens. I usually slept at 2AM and wake up at 5AM. In between that, I have to disinfect the house because I’m highly anxious of this pandemic, take care of my six old cats, clean two litters, and work. How I manage that I do not know? I sleep in between feeding times at night that’s why I barely have time to write.

I know I said somewhere that I’m ending this mini series in this chapter but at 3k+ words, I’m still not done with it. 3k+ words and I’m not sure how I really want to end this. So, this for now. Maybe I’ll have clarity by next week once I rehomed all six kittens.

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

It’s been two weeks since Nat found out that you were alive, and that you were the one responsible for getting her back from Vormir. Ever since then, the two of you have been hanging out all day, every day doing whatever your hearts desire unless she has work to do with the Avengers. Today, you and Nat spend the whole day outside instead of being coup up in your condo unit. You two just arrived back after spending a splendid afternoon of lunch, shopping and generally chilling out around City Hall Park, talking about anything and everything under the big blue sky.

“Ugh, my feet are killing me.” Nat moaned after dropping her shopping bag at the foot of your bed and before she threw herself on it. “I feel like we walked for a lifetime.”

You smiled fondly at the redhead in your bed before playfully rolling your eyes at her. “Oh don’t be dramatic.”

Nat rolled on her stomach to look at you, watch you practically undressing in front of her. You weren’t really bothered by it because she’s seen you in far fewer articles of clothing before until you saw her staring and starting to get redder, the longer you stood there in your skin tight jeans and only your sports bra. You cleared your throat to gain her attention. She averted her eyes, tried to look at that expensive painting hanging on the wall behind you.

“I am not, I’m just stating facts,” she said before chancing a glance towards you.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, love,” you teased with a smirk on your face. You walked towards the edge of the bed, planted a soft kiss at the top of her head before depositing your watch and other accessories on your bedside table.

Nat laid back down, stared at the ceiling before letting out a loud groan. “I hate you,” she said.

You laughed, watching her from the mirror on your bathroom while wiping the very little make up you’ve put in this afternoon. “You really don’t,” you singsonged. Nat only groaned again in response, making you laugh harder. “If you stay the night, I’ll give your poor feet a massage.”

The silence that followed made your smile drop. Nat stood up and looked at you with a frown on her face. “You know that I can’t,” she said softly. “Carol will look for me.” Then she looked at her watch, and you know that your time with her for today is up.

“I should go,” she said quietly.

You ignored the sinking feeling in your stomach and smiled at her. “Be safe, Tasha.”

It’s like clockwork for the past two weeks. She spends the whole day with you but she never stays over, which is totally understandable because she’s not yours to keep. Looking at your empty apartment after she walks away, again, leaves you with an immense feeling of being Nat’s dirty little secret but there was nothing you can do. Nat never spoke about leaving Carol nor wanting to be with you. So, you just walked into the shower, hoping against hope that the scalding hot water can soothe your tired, aching soul and wash away all the hurt that comes with loving someone you cannot have.

***

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Sam yelled when he saw Nat entering the common living room. “You’re right on time! We’re watching a movie.”

Carol watched her girlfriend from the love seat with a heavy blanket and shit load of pillows around her. Truthfully, she’s not expecting Nat to be around for movie night. Just like how she’s not around the compound most of the time. Nat looked around and spotted her, she smiled and waved her over.

“Hey,” Carol greeted with her signature goofy smile. Internally, she was cringing at how awkward she sounded. She moved the pillows around, some ending down the floor in her haze to make space for Natasha.

“Hi.” Nat plopped down beside Carol and leaning her head against the blonde’s shoulder. She ignored the way Carol stiffened ever so slightly at the contact.

“I missed you all day. Where have you been?” Carol pretends to ask.

Like she doesn’t know where her girlfriend goes when she’s not in the compound or the training room or the HQ with Maria. She pretends to ask like she doesn’t know why Nat always smells like fresh oranges; a scent Carol grew to associate with you. A part of her pretends to ask to give Nat an out, an opening. To confess, to tell her she doesn’t want her anymore but Nat pretends on her own.

Nat pretends she didn’t hear the question long enough for an invisible bell to save her.

“Alright, settle down. Movie’s starting,” Sam said before he flicked the light switch off.

“I missed you too,” Nat murmured before scooting around to find a comfortable position almost sitting at Carol’s lap.

Carol watched her watch the screen intently. She watched Nat laugh at something that’s happening in the movie (which she’s totally not watching) and can’t help but notice how Nat smiles more often now that she knows that you’re back. She remembers all the time she caught Nat smiling to herself with a dreamy look on her face, and wonder if Nat ever smiles like that when she thinks of her when she’s with you or is that smile reserved only for you.

“You’re not watching,” Nat whispered without taking her eyes off the gigantic TV screen.

“I’m watching the most beautiful woman on any universe though,” Carol whispered right beside Nat’s ear, making her visibly shiver. Nat elbowed her gently as a warning that she’s ticklish.

“Sap.”

“Your sap though.”

“Shut up!” Sam yelled from almost all the way across the room.

Carol and Nat clumped their mouth shuts in unison before eyeing each other and started giggling together softly. Sam’s heavy sigh from across the room told them they’re not really very good at behaving.

***

You were having a relaxing Friday evening when a series of loud knocks rung through your apartment. You looked at your watch, it’s pretty late into the night for a visitor and Nat’s supposed to be out on a week-long mission with Carol. When it’s apparent that whoever was on the other side of the door can’t take the silence as a hint, you reluctantly stood up and walked towards it. You were surprised when you pulled it open.

“Nat?”

She’s got shopping bags on both her hands and a bag of takeouts between her teeth. You helped her by taking the food off of her.

“What took you so long?” She complained before leaning in and giving you a deliberate smack on the lips. “I’ve been knocking all night.”

The kiss caught you off guard that you were left to stare in space while running a lone finger on your own lips. “Y/N?” she asked confused when she saw that you didn’t follow her inside your own apartment.

You looked back at her before snapping out of the trance she put you in. “Yeah?”

“I said, the food’s going to get cold,” she said with a knowing smirk on her face.

You chuckled before placing the food down the counter and opening the lid to examine the contents of the boxes. Nat brought Japanese food, which is your favourite. Nat sat on the opposite side of the table, facing you.

“Thanks for bringing dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied beaming. Something is different about Nat, you can tell by simply noticing how she’s quite literally blooming and more relax than she normally is.

“So.” You quickly popped sushi in your mouth. “How’s the mission?”

She finished chewing her food before grinning at you. “Oh, it was an easy one. Carol and I finished it in two days.”

You hummed your acknowledgement, not wanting to interrogate her. Apparently, Nat’s actually in the mood for sharing. (Over-sharing, if people ask you.)

“Carol asked Fury though if we can take the rest of the week off.” Nat has this loving facial expression on her face that annoys and hurts you. “She said she wanted to spend the rest of the week to reconnect.”

Another stab to your heart. “Where were you again?” You asked innocently.

“Paris,” she replied before taking a bite on her tempura.

“Of course.” You tried to cover the hurt with a smile. So that’s why she looks so happy, you thought to yourself.

And that wasn’t the end of it as she told you with so much enthusiasm how Carol took her to a romantic dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, how they skipped dessert and just walked around the park instead. She told you how Carol held her hand all night long as they stroll the streets of Paris, talking about anything and everything under the moon. She told you how she loved doing normal people does as Carol brought her shopping, museum hopping, and even visiting Disneyland.

Your heart clenched but you still smiled anyway. Her smile faltered, then you know you messed up. You know you’re not selling the happy act right.

“What’s wrong?” Nat asked when you docked your head to slurp some soup from your ramen.

“Nothing.” You fought the urge to cringe. It sounded more like a question than a proper answer even to your own ears.

Nat’s eyebrows started to crinkle together. A telltale sign that she’s not buying your bullshit.

“Y/N?”

You bowed your head, stared at your ramen with a frown. You hate when she used that tone like she’s admonishing a child. You feel exhausted, suddenly. “What are we doing, Tasha?” you whispered, still looking at your food.

“I don’t understand-”

She wasn’t able to finish her sentence when you slammed your chopsticks down the table, startling the redhead. Her playing dumb is just aggravating you, making your eyes glow green when you finally made eye contact.

“I mean what are we doing here?” You waved your hand between the two of you to indicate your point. “You spend most of your days in my apartment. Sometimes you would even bring your work here. Just when you arrived you kissed me, what was that?”

You’re too pumped to sit still, so you stood up and started pacing the floor. “You kissed me-” you repeated like you’re still trying to wrap your head around it. “We have dinner and movie nights. We have brunch and museum outings. Sounds familiar?” You chuckled mirthlessly.

“Y/N-”

You stopped pacing at looked at her. “We do all these things together then you go home to Carol. You sleep in the same bed with Carol. You wake up with Carol. You go on romantic getaways with Carol.”

“Carol’s my girlfriend.”

“And who am I to you?”

Nat looked pained by the question. The pregnant paused that followed was the real pain though. You smiled before you walked back to the table and started cleaning up the table.

“Y/N, please. Don’t make this any harder for me.”

You chuckled after closing the dishwasher. You feel sick and tired and torn apart. “I won’t, I promise.” You started walking to the living room, directly picking up your keys. “I have to go. Just lock up when you leave.”

You were power walking to the door. “But this is your apartment,” she said behind you.

You didn’t dare look back. You just gave another hollow laugh before you’re out of your own damn door.

***

Someone’s knocking on your door at midnight again. The last time someone knocked on your door at the same ungodly hour you had that fight with Natasha. You placed the photo frames on top of your clothes before begrudgingly opening your door. When you did, you couldn’t school your expression fast enough before the other person noticed.

“Not who you’re expecting?” Carol Danvers asked with an awkward smile.

“I’m not expecting anyone but if I was, I certainly wasn’t expecting you.”

You frowned at her yet you opened the door wider to let her in. You and Carol have butt heads since you first met and you certainly don’t want to wake the whole neighbourhood with your bickering. At least inside your apartment, it’s soundproof.

Carol walked inside your open layout unit, noting the industrial design and curated furniture to match the overall style. She spotted the suitcase in your bed with a two framed photos on top of your neatly folded clothes; one is a photo of you and Nat, and the other is a photo of you, Nat and Clint smiling at the camera.

“Going somewhere?”

You walked towards your case before throwing the last of your things inside. “Is there a purpose for this visit, Captain Danvers?” Carol noted the lack of bite in your tone, which she grew accustomed to since you fight each other a lot.

Carol bit her bottom lip as she struggles to find the right words to say to tell you she’s giving up on Natasha so you two can be together. She came to ask you to take care of Nat, protect her and love her for the two of you. She rehearsed what she wanted to say but standing there, the words are stuck in her throat.

You zipped your suitcase and looked up at the blonde who suddenly became too quiet. You can see the storm in her bright hazel eyes. You sighed, you’re too tired for anything so you decided to ease the blonde’s burden.

“Don’t worry Carol, I’m not going to bother you and Nat ever again.” You pulled your luggage out of the bed and dragged it in your foyer.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m getting out of your hair, dumbass.”

Carol was too confused to register the jab. She cocked her head to the side to convey her confusion, making you roll your eyes at her.

“Hey!” She complained with an uncharacteristic pout. “What does getting out of my hair means?”

With your luggage packed and secure, you beckoned Carol to follow you at the other side of the room where your sleek, modern and fully stocked bar stood. You poured yourself and Carol both a tall glass of vodka.

“I mean I’m leaving Tasha in your hands.” You downed the glass of vodka without a problem. “Take care of her.”

Carol looked down at her glass and swirled the clear liquid around. “I actually came here to tell you the same thing,” she whispered.

“Well, now you don’t have to.” You drunk another half glass. “I’m sorry for causing too much trouble.”

Carol let out a hearty laugh. “I’m sorry I’m so uptight.”

“Uptight?” You scoffed. “You’re a dick.”

“So are you,” Carol snickered. “And you killed the Vipers.”

It’s your turn to laugh. “You’re welcome,” you said cheekily before pouring yourself another half a glass of vodka.

“Why are you leaving though?” Carol asked after downing her shot too.

“She loves you, Danvers.” You stared straight at the painting hanging on your wall who happens to be the portrait of a redhead with her back against the canvas.

Carol’s watching your side profile. You looked tired and defeated. So unlike the confident, dangerous, Y/N Al Ghul at your sisters' mansion. “She loves you, too.”

You smiled before bowing your head and staring at your drink. “I know but she chose you. Every time she goes home, she chose you.” You chugged the vodka in your glass. “When you arrived you asked me if I’m expecting someone else, I’m really not. We had a fight a week ago after I asked what we were doing and she couldn’t answer. She said that I shouldn’t make it harder for her, so I won’t.”

“By taking yourself out of the equation?”

You swivelled around in your chair to look at your blonde visitor. You grinned at her with your cheeks flushed from all the vodka you just consumed. “Exactly,” you declared with a smile.

She thought you’re already tipsy until you downed two more shots like the drink doesn’t burn your throat. Carol spied your glassy eyes when you turned away from her and made a weak display of checking your watch and wiping your eyes, she knew you’re crying.

“Look at that, it’s almost 1AM. Natasha will look for you if you’re gone for too long.” When you look back at her with clear eyes and a smile. “Sorry to cut this short, Captain but I have an early flight to catch in the morning.”

“Oh.” Carol tried to help put away the glassed but you put a hand on her arm, telling her to leave it.

You smiled when you opened the door for the blonde. “I’m glad we did this. You’re not so bad after all.”

You two misjudged each other for the sole reason that you love the same woman and is basically competing for her love and affection, hindering you from trying and wanting to get to know each other on a personal level.

“You too, Y/N.” Carol nibbled at her bottom lip. “Thank you.”

“No. Thank YOU! Thank you for loving her. Tasha deserves someone like you.”

#drabble #mini series #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #natasha romanoff x carol danvers #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #scarlett johansson imagine #carol danvers x natasha romanoff

128 notes · View notes

stefciastark · 3 years

Text

Mutant ~ Webpril Day 26

A/N: Peter sometimes wishes he was a normal kid, Bruce gets a bit passionate about his research, and Tony is just fed up. This one was a fun one to write. I didn't want to go for a battle scene which would've been my first thought, so instead I went for a little something else. I don't know much if anything about the X-Men, so I'm sorry if I did get anything wrong. I hope you enjoy it xx

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t some sort of mutant. Sometimes, I just really wish I was a normal kid…”

Peter was sat face to face with Bruce, who wore a stilted expression on his face while he was trying incredibly hard to find a silver lining in being a mutate.

“Mutate, not mutant.” Bruce had explained the difference, courtesy of his latest research, and passionately and adamantly insisted that Peter belonged in the same category.

Mutants had the X gene, something Bruce had recently begun studying, courtesy of a gifted group of individuals called the X-Men. Their gifts were different to the remarkable qualities exhibited by the Avengers, however. As a mutate, Bruce, Steve - and now Peter - had attained their abilities by being exposed to an external factor like radiation, the serum, or a radioactive spider. Mutants were born with the X-Gene that gave them their abilities.

The whole conversation started when Bruce stumbled across Peter having a form of existential crisis in the common lounge area. Usually at the late hour of two o’clock in the morning, nobody else was seen outside of their rooms, so Peter took the space as an extension of his own. So, it was to Peter’s surprise to see Bruce - usually so sensible about regulating his own circadian rhythm - up and around the complex.

“Mutant, mutate, it doesn’t matter, it’s not like there’s much difference anyways.” Peter sighed. “It’s not like I can just take a month off of superhero duties or stop looking out for my neighborhood to have a movie night on a Friday.”

“You had this thrust on you pretty young. It’s not easy, I know, but it’s an inevitable part of your life now. Take it from the guy who fought against his reality for years; the sooner you can accept your new reality, the easier your future is going to be.” Bruce smiled sadly, sympathy dripping from his expression. Bruce had been an adult by the time the gamma incident created the Hulk, and while he could understand Peter’s mourning at the suddenness at which his life had changed in a way Peter could have ever expected, Bruce didn’t lose his adolescent years to his...condition.

“Yeah, I know.” Peter buried his face in his hands for a moment before standing up to grab a soda from the fridge. “You want anything?” Peter offered.

“No, I’m alright, thank you.” Bruce gestured, holding up his steaming mug of black tea as an answer.

Peter chose a can of Coca Cola that Clint thought he hid well in the back of the fridge. Normally, Peter wouldn’t have taken from the other Avenger’s stash, but it was revenge for when Clint stole Peter’s last Fruit Roll-Up and tried to lie about it. The investigation hadn’t lasted long; Tony had grabbed footage from F.R.I.D.A.Y and the truth had soon been exposed.

The second Peter cracked the can of soda with soft hiss, a disembodied vocal yawn emerged from around the corner.

Stumbling into the living room was Tony, empty mug in hand, still in his charcoal grey dress shirt and suit pants from the long hours of meetings the afternoon prior.

“My God, Tony, do you ever sleep?” Bruce looked over from his newly claimed spot on the black leather chaise lounge.

“God, it’s a party in here…” Tony huffed. He was hoping he’d have the space to himself to have some peace and quiet before he turned in for the night. That card wasn’t exactly on the table anymore. “Hey kid, d’you mind turning the machine on?”

Peter wasn’t sure if Tony purposefully disregarded Bruce’s comment, or if the lack of coffee and sleep were causing a brain fog too thick for his words to penetrate. Peter went through the motions of refilling the coffee machine, and the brief silence was quickly broken by the loud screaming of coffee beans being ground into a powder.

Tony leaned over the countertop, bracing himself on his elbows and dropped his head in his hands, ruffling his hair. When he stood back up straight again, he looked just that little bit more like a disgruntled pigeon.

Both Peter and Bruce were waiting for Tony to offer an explanation, and they both unconsciously let out a breath of air they didn’t know they were holding when Tony finally began. “Did you know S.H.I.E.L.D is one of the most incompetent organizations to ever exist? Like, ever?” Tony turned to face Bruce. “Remember that conversation we had about the X-People…? X-Guys…? Whatever the hell they were called. Anyways, turns out that they thought it was okay and failed to mention that they are under S.H.I.E.L.D’s jurisdiction now. So that little 5 v 6 we had the other week,” Tony unconsciously flexed his left wrist, still feeling pins and needles shooting through his joints from where part of a building collapsed on top of it while he was mid-flight, “equates to nothing more than a elementary school playground brawl to them. Not to mention the damages I now have to pay for because Fury acts like he doesn’t have a dollar to his name. Thanks, kid.”

Peter watched in silence as Tony grasped the mug of coffee Peter had filled for him like a lifeline. He could see the way his hand trembled faintly from a likely combination of sleep deprivation, stress, and the usual much higher than recommended daily caffeine intake.

“Relax Tony, if the X-Men are under S.H.I.E.L.D’s jurisdiction, there’s nothing we can do now. If anything, it’ll make doing my research easier.”

“How’s your little mutate project going anyways, Banner?”

“We went over this for an hour yesterday Tony,” Bruce groaned. “Mutant, not mutate.”

“I know, I just like to see you bent out of shape. Although, please, don’t...actually bend out of shape.” Tony smirked. It was a game for him, sometimes, to see how quickly he could get under his teammates’ skin.

“Screw you, Tony,” Bruce shot back unconvincingly, humour lacing his riposte.

Peter couldn’t help himself but laugh.

8 notes · View notes

pigtownchronicles · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2.9 - Taking the Bait

For the rest of the week, Dennis found himself running that odd encounter with Kyle’s father over and over in his head, trying desperately to fit all of his memories of the last week into some sort of order. Some of the pieces now felt like they didn’t fit anywhere...(had he really seen Kyle that night in Depot? If he had, why would he have taken him home? If he couldn’t take him home, why had he gone down and intervened?). Some of the pieces now felt too small (he’d gone downtown on Tuesday to that weird precinct, where he’d gotten the runaround...(but hadn’t something else happened hadn’t it? He’d seen someone, but now it all was shrouded in fog, or maybe smoke). Some of the pieces felt right, but nothing connected to them...(He could remember, after speaking to Kyle’s father, how he had moved out, how he had heard about the fight through the neighborhood grapevine, but if he’d known that, why did he only know it now?)

His brain kept trying to shove everything together in different ways to no success. Something, he realized, was missing. There was a bit of the puzzle that he didn’t have, though he couldn’t imagine a shape that would make all of this come together in a way that made sense. This was only intensified by an increasing restlessness he’d never felt before in his life. He had trouble sleeping, and was plagued with dreams he would only half recall. Thursday morning, he’d awoken to wet sheets. He’d thought he’d just sweat, until he realized he’d had a wet dream he couldn’t even remember anymore. He’d never had one before in his life, not even when he’d been a teenager. It felt like something had awoken inside him, or taken up residence, and it too didn’t have a shape or form that made sense to him.

On Friday evening, he got home early from the hospital. Barry wasn’t going to be home until late, because of some work function that he’d assured Dennis didn’t need to be at. That left him alone with Misty the cat, which wasn’t usually a problem. He’d planned on watching his shows, having a simple dinner, and early bed, but all afternoon and early evening, he found it impossible to settle and relax. He was trying to piece his memories together again, but more than that, he was craving something, a taste he couldn’t begin to describe. Frustrated, he fed the cat, got dressed, and drove downtown. He’d decided to start at the precinct and retrace his steps--see if he couldn’t find what he’d forgotten in that fog...(smoke, why did he keep thinking smoke?).

Just like the week before, the sidewalks were already busy with folks getting their weekend started at the various bars and clubs around the nightlife district. Dennis had been so annoyed the week before though, that he hadn’t noticed just how different the crowd was just a block or two over, once he’d crossed that invisible boundary into Pigtown. The precinct was, much to his surprise, busier now than it had been during the daytime, with a steady flow of officers going in and out of the front door, including a few guys in cuffs obviously being arrested. Some of them were doing their jobs then, at least. From there, he looked around and tried to piece together the memory he was missing. He’d been going back to his car, but he’d seen something. No, someone. He’d seen someone heading down the other direction, and he’d followed them. Letting his feet guide him, he crossed the street, went down the block, but pulled up short in front of a smoke shop. Marshall’s Cigar and Briar. Why would he stop here? He thought again, thought about the fog, how he kept thinking it was smoke, didn’t know what to make of any of it, and the shop was closed anyway. Closed, but the lights were on.

He didn’t quite know why he did it, but he crossed the street again, staked out a spot at the mouth of an alley, and watched the door. He’d give it twenty minutes, and see what happened. More than a few guys passed him in the alley, slowed down and gave him a look, but his scowl in return generally dissuaded them--though one guy went so far as the flash him and try and kiss him, and Dennis had to forcefully shove him away, before he took the hint. He couldn’t quite fathom what must have been making these men behave this way. They all seemed to be gay, but the city had never really been known for much in the way of gay nightlife. Now, there wasn’t just a resurgence of gay clubs, but they were brazen enough to be fucking in alleys, apparently.

He was about to give up, and try again in the daytime, when he saw some movement in the shop. He emerged from the alley and stood behind a car parked on the sidewalk, and after a few minutes, two men emerged from the shop, after turning out the lights, locked the door, and walked off down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace.

Dennis followed them on the other side of the street, not sure if he should be trying to be sneaky or not. He wasn’t even sure who he was following, or why he was following them in the first place. The reached the end of the block, where the light was better. They were both in leather and denim, like a good number on the guys on the sidewalk were, and both were smoking cigars. One of them turned and looked in his direction, and Dennis realized that it was Kyle--but not quite the Kyle he recalled from some of his memories. A little older, a little thicker, with a full beard cut short across his face. The man he was with, Dennis recalled him as well, didn’t he? The memories of him either didn’t quite fit...(sitting at a table in a gay club, kissing Kyle, when Dennis pulled him away for a reason that no longer made sense), or were shrouded in that same fog as the shop...(righteous anger, jealousy, something in his ear, the smell of smoke, but what else was there behind all those clouds?). Dennis knew, somehow, that this was the piece. Part of the piece he was looking for. He kept following them down the street for a couple more blocks. They were deeper in Pigtown now, and the streetlights seemed dimmer, the men around him a little hungrier, a little more brazen. Leather was the norm now, along with quite a bit of rubber. More than once, he passed men whose cocks and asses were exposed, some even erect. Several times, someone felt him up in passing. Dennis was almost unnerved enough to turn around and go home, when Kyle and the other bear stopped and stepped into a bar, called The Hideaway.

Dennis jaywalked after them, got to the door where a bouncer was sitting on a stool in full leather, and when he tried to push past him and go inside, the man put an arm out and stopped him, and laughed. “First time, buddy?” he said, “We have a dress code here, and you don’t meet it. BLUF only.”

“Bluff?”

“Breeches, Leather, Uniform, Fetish. Denim and cowboy get in too on theme nights. Damn, you must be real new if I have to tell you this shit. Maybe I should let you in for a little fun,” the bouncer said.

“I...look, someone I know just went in, alright? Guy named Kyle. I just wanted to talk.”

“Kyle? Marshall’s new apprentice?”

“I...yeah, him.”

“Ex, eh?”

“No! He’s only eighteen.”

The man laughed. “Look fella. You gotta be dressed properly to get in here, sorry. Go get some gear and come back when you’re a little more seasoned. This place’ll eat you alive otherwise.”

Dennis walked away, sensing that no manner of appealing to the bouncer’s sense of right would work in this case. Should he go home? That same...something inside him was thrumming now. It felt like hunger, or thirst, or something else, some other need that he didn’t have the right word to articulate. He felt like an alien here. He knew he should go home, that he didn’t belong here, but whether he wanted answers, or whether he wanted to feed whatever it was beginning to claw at his guts, he slid down an alley next to The Hideaway, and around to the back of the building. The alley was narrow, with very little lighting. As expected, there was a back door propped open by a block of wood. There was some chatter--probably employees on break or something not too far away. Peeking inside, he saw a break room, as he expected, and a hallway leading down to some bathrooms and the bar proper. Before he could second guess himself, he slid inside and down the hallway, hoping he wasn’t getting in over his head.

***

Want more Pigtown Chronicles? Support me over on my Patreon, and you can get early access to new chapters, along with loads of other content!

#pigtown #leather #smoke

15 notes · View notes

punksarahreese · 3 years

Text

Grey | 4 mg Ativan

Nosdecember day 25 | @neworleansspecial

Anxious!Ava; Ava’s comfort sweater

CW: sensory meltdown/overload, dermatillomania mention, self injury stim (hitting)

Merry christmas to anyone who celebrates ❄️💙

***

Ava woke up on this particular day and immediately wanted to go back to bed. Everything felt wrong, slightly off in some way, but she couldn’t figure out why. The first indication that it was going to be a bad day was the overwhelming sense of dread that she felt from being under the plush comforter. Usually blankets helped her feel safe, her favourite place to hide when she was anxious, but this morning she found herself kicking them off in frustration. She was glad Sarah wasn’t in bed at the time because she didn’t want to disturb her, she just needed to get the feeling to go away. She never wore pants to bed for that reason, hating the way things felt against her legs, like she was being constricted. Due to this, pants were a sensory nightmare for Ava but unfortunately they were necessary in everyday life.

She didn’t notice the way she immediately started toe walking on her way to the bathroom, heels never touching the floor. It was a habit she had had since she was a child, never knowing it was a symptom of sensory issues in adulthood, and was the primary cause of her recurrent ankle strains. She hated the way most floors felt and wanted her steps to be as quiet as possible, so she was almost always walking with her weight on her toes. It didn’t stop her from flinching at the feeling of the cold linoleum on her feet though, she hated the way it squeaked when she moved too quickly.

It took her awhile to do her hair, every gentle brush sent little shocks across her scalp, like a million pinpricks. She hated this feeling, the way it made her head fuzzy and feeling like someone was doing acupuncture against her will. It wasn’t supposed to happen, she knew that, but it did and she couldn’t make it stop. She decided that curling her hair wasn’t an option, settling for a quick french braid even though the feeling of her own fingers in her hair made her anxious.

She managed to brush her teeth and wash her face with no issue. The discomfort arose again when she tried to get dressed, though. She crept back to the bedroom, flinching when her braid brushed against her neck in a way that didn’t feel right. That day would be hell, she guessed, unsure of how she would even manage to handle putting on shoes let alone surgical gloves. She had set out a pair of scrubs the night before, folded neatly on top of the dresser, but Ava didn’t even want to pick them up at that point. She managed to pull the offending fabric up her legs, hating the way the scrub pants clung to her hips. She already wanted to cry, frustrated with her own mind for being so dramatic.

Sarah had been in the kitchen, going over case notes from that week and nursing a cup of coffee with way too much Splenda. She was tired, it had been a long four days, and she was looking forward to her day off that Saturday. She still needed to get through Friday first though, but she was waiting on her girlfriend so they could carpool to work. She had heard Ava in the bathroom, assuming she was just getting dressed, but she seemed to be taking longer than usual. The surgeon liked to be punctual so Sarah decided to check on her, intending on reminding her of the elective surgery she had that afternoon.

Sarah wasn’t shocked to happen upon the sight she did, though she felt her heart sink a little. Ava was on the floor in front of their full length mirror, clad in her scrub pants but still topless. The shirt in question was in her hands but she was holding it away from her as if it would bite her, which in Ava’s state of mind the concept was believable. Her girlfriend must have caught her reflection in the mirror because she turned to look at Sarah, frustrated tears welling in her eyes.

The psychiatrist was on the floor with her in seconds, taking the scrub top from her gently. When the hated fabric left her hands Ava couldn’t hold back her tears, shaking out her hands aggressively as if it would help her forget the texture.

“Avey, breathe,” Sarah reminded her gently, knowing she was probably way too far in her head at that point.

“T-too much…”

“I know,” she agreed, gently taking her hand when she saw the way her fists kept clenching and unclenching. That stim usually indicated that Ava’s derma was kicking in, the surgeon trying her hardest to avoid scratching at her skin. When her sensory issues acted up any texture could make her feel like she was covered in bugs, the only remedy her brain could come up with was to scratch until her skin was raw. It didn’t help, usually it only made the bad feelings worse, but in the moment she found it almost painful fight the urge.

“Hey, look at me,” Sarah coaxed her to meet her eyes, “What do you need, Ava?”

“D-don’t know…” Ava mumbled and tried to focus on the soothing feeling of Sarah’s thumb running over the back of her hand, “Need to… w-work.”

“Baby, we both know that won’t be a good idea today,” she replied gently, “This won’t get better if you push yourself.”

Ava huffed, annoyed once again that her sensory disorder was getting in the way of normal life. The last meltdown she had before a surgery had landed her in Goodwin’s office after she was discharged, the other woman chastising her for trying to work while not stable. She was trying to get Ava to agree to occupational therapy, even threatened to suspend her if she had another meltdown; as if Ava could control that. She knew therapy would probably help but she hated the idea of it. She was already seeing Doctor Charles every month, any more would feel suffocating and like she was admitting defeat. She didn’t like appearing weak, even though that’s all she felt as of late.

“S-sweater?”

Sarah nodded, “You want your sweater? I think it’s in the closet.”

The crewneck they were referring to wasn’t even Ava’s, not originally. It was Sarah’s, one from her medical school days, but Ava had immediately taken to it. It was grey, with the school logo in the centre, but it was the softest fabric either of the women owned. It always smelled like Sarah’s perfume, probably because she made sure it did since it kept Ava calm. More often than not it was the blonde who was wearing the thing anyway, affectionately dubbed her comfort sweater or just “her sweater”, it made her feel safer than anything else. Whenever she had a bad sensory day, that sweater was one of the only articles of clothing she could handle. It reminded her of Sarah and that made Ava feel better on even her worst days.

After a few moments, Sarah had coaxed her onto the bed again. She helped her out of her scrubs, knowing the pants would only make her more agitated if she left them on. The second Sarah handed her the sweater she adored so much, Ava pulled it over her head, fingers clinging to the cool-grey fabric tightly. She couldn’t help but smile when she visibly relaxed a bit; it wasn’t much but it was a start.

“I’m going to go call in, okay?” Sarah told her gently, “Then we can sit or take a nap, whatever you need.”

Ava nodded, mind still a little fuzzy. She didn’t feel okay yet, she knew it was never that easy, but the familiar soft fabric helped. She ran her fingers up and down her arm, a repetitive, self-soothing motion that kept her occupied. She was scared to lay down, afraid the invisible bug sensation would return if she tried to get comfortable. So she just stared at the wall, waiting for Sarah’s comforting presence to return.

Unfortunately, something still wasn't right. All of a sudden, a sinking feeling of dread hit Ava again and she felt like she was suffocating. Her hands immediately went to her throat, searching for any exposed skin because she needed to feel in control of something. She stopped herself before she could scratch or pick at the delicate area though, frustrated because she knew if Charles saw any wounds at her next session he would try to up her medication again. She still couldn’t control herself completely, needing to do something to get this horrible feeling to go away. Before she even thought of the consequences, Ava’s hands found her head and she hit herself repeatedly, as if she was trying to beat the thoughts away. This never ended well, knowing self-injury stims were all bad and only fed the anxiety, but she couldn't help it.

“Ava, no,” Sarah’s voice was barely audible to her though, not even noticing her there until she grabbed her hands. Ava tried to fight it, yanking against her hold and whining in both frustration and pain because she felt like she needed to stim like this. Her girlfriend didn’t waver though, holding onto her wrists loosely as she spoke firmly but not in an unkind tone.

“You know I can’t let you hurt yourself, Avey. I’m sorry, just breathe. The urge will pass.”

“No!”

“Ava, my love, look at me,” it took a bit more coaxing before the other woman could make eye contact. She was crying again, upset with herself and completely overstimulated. Everything was way too much and she didn’t know how to stop it. Her head ached from crying and from hitting herself and she was ashamed of her behaviour. She just wanted it to end and she told Sarah that much.

“I know,” she answered carefully, “But hurting yourself doesn’t help anyone. Do you want to lay down?”

After a bit of hesitation, Ava nodded, loosening the tight fists she had her hands clenched in. She let Sarah lay her down, gently tugging on her wrist to let her know she wanted her to stay. She was still crying, cheeks red and she was shaking a little, but Ava wasn’t showing any more anger with herself. She was exhausted and probably well on her way to a shutdown, so Sarah wanted to make sure she was as comfortable as possible.

“Is this okay?” Sarah asked carefully as she laid on her side of the bed, keeping space between them initially so she didn’t overwhelm Ava.

There was a lull in any response, leaving Sarah unsure if Ava was going nonverbal or just trying to think before she answered. Ava did turn her head to look at her, reddened eyes blinking rapidly to force herself to focus. Her girlfriend gave her a reassuring smile, which widened when she reached for her hand.

“B-blanket?”

“Which one do you want, love?”

Sarah was confused when Ava shook her head, “No.”

“No?”

Another tug on her wrist and a mumbled, “You,” made Sarah understand, unable to stifle a small laugh. Ava had a weighted blanket for situations like this, where she was overwhelmed and needed to feel secure. The gentle pressure did help sometimes but she often complained that the beads inside it dug into her skin or the silky blanket was too cold. Sarah knew Ava just preferred to have her be her “blanket” instead, calmed by the close contact and even pressure of Sarah laying on her. She never complained of course, anything to make her girlfriend feel better; besides, it was comfortable for her too.

Climbing across the mattress, Sarah giggled when Ava tugged her down. She teased her for being impatient, settling down on her girlfriend so she wasn’t putting too much weight on her in one spot. She felt Ava relax a little under her, cold hands snaking under her Gaffney fleece to keep warm and also hold Sarah closer.

“Better?”

Ava nodded slowly, breathing out as if she was trying to regulate herself again, and offering Sarah a weak smile. Sarah just leaned down to kiss her cheek gently, reassuring her that she was doing well. The blonde did feel better, though there was still that nagging anxiety in the pit of her stomach. That wouldn’t go away for a while, she knew that, but being with Sarah did help. When her girlfriend rested her head on her shoulder, drawing repetitive patterns over the soft grey fabric covering her side, Ava felt safe. Slowly she relaxed enough to let her eyes fall shut, exhausted from the sensory overload that had decided to plague her before the day even began.

“Take a rest, baby,” Sarah said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

#me 🤝 Ava #having meltdowns because we can’t exist without something touching us #ava bekker #sarah reese #reesker #my aus #4 mg ativan #anxious!ava #mutuals #neworleansspecial #nosdecember #userglow #derma tw #meltdown tw #ask to tag #my-writing

16 notes · View notes

msiconoclast · 4 years

Text

Again - Chapter 1

Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader

Genre: romance, angst

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Lim Jaebeom was the single most significant part of your college experience. A chance encounter brings you together again many years later when you’ve both settled into your careers (Jaebeom is a music producer and Y/N is a journalist). As you take a walk down memory lane, you reflect on your understanding of love and its many trials. Some loves are meant to make you grow, and some are meant to help you heal. And some are destined to be both.

A/N: Whew, this took longer than I expected. Enjoy! Read the prologue first if you haven’t yet: Again - Prologue

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

Lim Jaebeom first showed up in your life the summer after sophomore year. You were nineteen at the time and life was still full of glorious possibilities.

Before you learned his name, he had been "hoodie guy from film class".

Hoodie guy almost always showed up to class late, often with dark circles under his eyes that looked like they'd been there for days. His usual attire of oversized hoodie, shorts, and sandals suggested that he'd probably just rolled out of bed and come straight to class. He would inevitably fall asleep in the back row and start snoring at some point during lecture. You had to physically move to the front just to block out the noise and catch what the prof was saying.

Yet somehow, he managed to be the professor's favorite student.

The thing is, when he wasn't nodding off, hoodie guy was apparently Ebert incarnate. He was usually quiet but whenever the class discussion came to a halt, he would always make a comment that somehow managed to cut straight to the heart of the film. The class would give collective pause over his flash of brilliance and then resume in excited debate in a new enlightened direction. On the few occasions when the professor decided to read out excerpts from written assignments, you knew.....you just knew that they were always from hoodie guy's papers by the smirk on his face.

In other words....the guy was annoying as hell.

Look, you loved movies and film class was sacred. It was one of the few classes you actually enjoyed outside of your major. How dare this guy just waltz into class in his pajamas and proceed to wax philosophical on “French New Wave” while the rest of you barely understood what the films were trying to convey? Was he some kind of silver screen idiot savant? More importantly, why was he trying to ruin the curve for everyone?!

Needless to say, by the time the semester ended, you were more than done with hoodie guy’s antics. If you were to never see him again, that would be absolutely perfect.

Life, unfortunately, had other plans for you.

As spring eased into summer, you decided to take a job at Joe's on Third to supplement your non-paid internship at the local paper. Joe's was your home away from home as a student. Cozy and airy, it had the perfect ambiance and was never too packed. As a bonus, they served a mean grilled cheese among a small menu of comfort food classics and you would get fed every day you worked there. It was going to be tough balancing the two jobs but all things considered, it wasn’t a bad deal at all.

When you showed up at seven for your first day at Joe's, the place was still empty. The only sound came from behind the counter where someone was grinding coffee beans. A tall figure with an enviable head of hair was rustling around getting the goods ready before the morning rush. As you got closer, you noticed that he had more than a few piercings, one in particular under his right eye. You never really found facial piercings to be attractive on men but there was something oddly intriguing about the look on him. It gave him an air of nonchalance. A rebel without a cause.

He was so concentrated on his tasks that he didn't notice you until you tapped on the counter in front of him.

"Shit....oh...." It took him a moment to collect his thoughts until a look of recognition registered in his face. "You’re Y/N? I'm Jaebeom. Call me JB. Joe said I'm supposed to set you up on your first day."

Hoodie Guy?

The second he opened his mouth, it dawned on you that this was no stranger. Though you never cared to study his face, you had memorized hoodie guy's voice by heart. And while this clean shaven, well dressed man in front of you looked nothing like the guy who always buried his face in his hoodies, the voice was unmistakable.

"Intro to World Cinema. Were you the one who got the only A in class??"

Confused, he raised his eyebrows and tried again. "Uh, I'm supposed to get you trained on your first day and make sure you can..."

"I'm asking if you were in Intro to World Cinema last semester? Didn't you always wear a hoodie to class and nap in the back row? Were you the jerk who ruined the curve for everyone and got the only A on the final paper?

He stared at you as if you were nuts. But you didn't really expect him to protest innocence.

"I was in that class too and would've gotten an A if it weren't for you! Instead I got a B+. First B+ in two years of school!!" The words flew out of your mouth before you could catch yourself. Oh, you knew it was petty but your indignation had been brewing for weeks.

He squinted his eyes and continued to stare at you.

Ding!

Somewhere in the back, a toaster went off. This seemed to snap him out of his trance and you watched as confusion dissolved into amusement on his face.

He cleared his throat: "Well...Miss B+....we got twenty minutes until open. If you want to keep this job, I suggest you get going and put all the baked goods out."

Not waiting for you to respond, he turned towards the kitchen.

Just before disappearing into the back, he suddenly swung around and grinned`: "Yeah, I got the A. And you were the girl with the pencil hair bun who always sat in the front."

So he did recognize you.

Asshole.

The first week of your new job breezed by without much of a hitch. You'd worked restaurant jobs before and a cafe was a piece of cake by comparison. What surprised you was how efficient JB was at the job. You just couldn't stitch together the image of him snoring in class with how professional he appeared at the cafe. Not only was he efficient, he also seemed to be preternaturally friendly towards everyone who walked in. Loud teenagers, moms with screaming babies, post-breakup girls drowning in their brownie-a-la-mode, he handled each and every one of them with calm and kindness. Yet, you wouldn't exactly call him a "people person" since he never voluntarily took up small talk with anyone nor did he socialize much with the other staff. It seemed that JB simply existed comfortably in the backdrop of the cafe’s inviting atmosphere and treated everyone with the same distant warmth.

After the awkward initial encounter with JB, you maintained a precarious distance towards each other. You were still reeling from the embarrassment of your outburst, and he must have decided to steer clear of stirring up the "crazy" in you again. In fact, he treated you just like any other member of the staff, as if the incident never happened. If anything, you two developed a satisfying partnership of sorts. When the cafe was busy, you teamed up to keep the orders moving and the kitchen hot. When there was a lull, you gave each other plenty of space. You would work on your articles for the paper while he pranced around behind the counter scribbling down notes on little pieces of paper.

Mid-afternoons were usually the slowest at the cafe. You savored these moments when time seemed to pass by as slowly as dust particles that swayed in the summer sun. It gave you a strange sense of privacy even if you were sitting in a cafe full of people. Sometimes, when you were feeling really wild, you'd stealthily switch the cafe jazz that droned on in the background to your favorite soundtracks. None of the cafe patrons seemed to mind as long as it was something mellow. The one person who did take note though was JB.

"Is that 'Before Sunrise'?" Um hum.

"That sounds like 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind'?" Yup.

"Oh, 'Midnight in Paris'. The gypsy jazz is cool." Totally...

Either this guy had seen every movie under the sun or you two just happened to have very similar tastes. What was most curious was the fact that these were all movies that any other guy would scoff as “chick flicks”. Not the type of entertainment that you’d expect a “rebel without a cause“ to seek out.

"So did you actually watch all of these movies?" You had to ask him one afternoon.

"Hmm......yeah." He waved one of the little pieces of paper he was scribbling on: "They help me with my songwriting. I......heh, need inspiration and I like movies that provide different perspectives on the concept of love. "

So that's what he had been working on. Song lyrics. You weren’t entirely surprised since half of the population in LA were trying to make it in Entertainment in one way or another.

"Why do people write so many love songs anyways? Loneliness is totally underrated."

"Because almost any emotion that music can express can be related to love. It's universal." he said

"Yeah? And what have you learned about love in all your movie-watching and song-writing experience?”

"The heart's not like a box that gets filled up. It expands in size the more you love."

“Her”. Nice..... another sentimental fool.

The best thing about working at Joe's was the weekly closing party. Every Friday night, the staff would string up lights around the back patio and put on a little dance party while closing the cafe down. It was an unspoken rule that whatever bottles of wine were open by the end of the week was a free for all for the party and the beer taps were open until dry. Quite a nice little perk for the employees.

You had always enjoyed yourself at these parties. Most of the part time staff were kids who went to the same school, people you had seen around campus. It was where the staff really got to know each other and sometimes, got their hands on each other. And it didn't take long for everyone to get comfortable and really let loose. It was also funny to see how people changed when they were drunk. The shy introverted ones would surprisingly become super hyper while the normally outgoing ones often ended up bawling their eyes out in the corner by the end of the night. Nothing short of human theater.

The first couple of times you'd joined, you were still careful not to drink too much. You wanted to make a good impression and actually get to know everyone. But by the fourth closing party, you were well on your way to earning the title of dancing queen. See, alcohol also had an intriguing effect on you. It helped you break out of your usually calm shell but it also had a tendency to make you more than a little flirty. And on this particular night, you were definitely feeling the love.

The theme for the night was 90s jams and you had been showing off your moves on top of one of the patio tables for the last 45 minutes. But it was nearing midnight now and most people were either too drunk or too tired to be dancing and you were starting to feel the early signs of a crash yourself. It was then the bass thumping hip hop switched over to a slow and smooth R&B song that you had never heard before. There was something seductive about the way the singer cooed out the words.

"Girl it's only you

Have it your way

And if you want you can decide

And if you'll have me

I can provide everything that you desire

Said if you get a feeling

Feeling that I am feeling

Won't you come closer to me baby,

You've already got me right where you want me baby

I just want to be your man

How does it feel

Said I want to know how does it feel

How does it feel

How does it feel"

As you spun around on the table, you noticed a pair of gaze that fixed steadily on you as you swayed your hips slowly to the beat. You couldn't make out the expression on his face but there was an intensity in his gaze that made your body heat up. The thought that you had a captured audience turned you on and prompted you to run your hands across your body. As you felt your body heat up more and more, you reached for the glass nearby and took out an ice cube. You desperately needed to cool down. Holding the ice cube in your mouth for a second, you then started to run it against your skin. Trails of ice water trickled down your neck, your collarbone and pooled where your cleavage had shown through your shirt. The song was pushing towards a crescendo and the singer's falsetto was ringing in your head. It grew louder and louder until the lights started to spin.

Dizziness took over. Suddenly, you felt yourself lose your balance and stumble towards the ground.

Black.

And the next time you opened your eyes, a familiar face was just inches above you. The owner of the gaze had his arms propped up beneath you while they supported your weight.

You could feel his breath on your face and for what seemed like an eternity, you simply stared at each other.

Finally, you ended the silence by flashing him the brightest smile you could muster and pointing at his nose: "I forgive you!!!...Hoodie guy!"

The corners of his mouth curved up.

"You're pretty cute, B+." He chuckled.

Previous Next

#got7 #got7 jaebum #jaebeom #jaebum #got7 fanfic #kpop writing #got7 fiction #got7 fic #got7 imagines #got7 jaebeom #got7 jb

71 notes · View notes

benji-writes · 4 years

Text

Cherry Blossom

Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

Word Count: 4041

Summary: You and Bucky finally find the love you deserve. Underneath the cherry blossoms, everything is beautiful. -- What the two of them find is a fantastical real life dream of mine. I hope you think it’s as beautiful as I do.

Warnings: Mentions of death, but nothing graphically depicted. Should be edited more, but I literally could not read it again.

He sat on the steps of the back porch. She sat beside him. He hated that this place was so quiet now. It wasn’t supposed to be. It never was before. He looked over at the woman sat beside him and he could see it. The two of them together, happy, in this same place. He prayed she could see it too.

“When my grandparents first bought this place, there was hardly anything here. The house they’d bought was this tiny little dump, with rotted wood and broken windows. Mom has pictures. It’s amazing how different it looks now. Nana told me they liked the land, and that’s why they bought it. That the trees and the grass were perfect. That the air smelled just right.”

She looked over at the man she loved. She’d never seen him like this. It was almost solemn. A solemn yearning for something he didn’t yet have. She leaned her head on his shoulder and said, “Will you tell me about them? Will you tell me about this place?”

He looked down at her, this woman he loved enough to bring here, to this sacred place. He was unafraid with her beside him, “I’ll tell you everything. It’s a long story though.”

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight, “Don’t worry. We have time.”

He kissed her temple and her eyes fell closed. She looked out at the garden and said, “How did they first meet?”

“Well. He fell flat on his face in front of her.”

—

You weren’t sure if he’d noticed you, but you’d long since noticed him. You’d sit everyday at the picnic table by the cherry blossom trees. You could see the pond from where you sat, with it’s geese and frogs and lily pads. In the distance, where the birch trees grew, you could hear the sound of woodpeckers. It was the world’s most perfect spot.

You were a teacher, and so most days, after you changed out of your work clothes and went home to get a snack, you’d come sit in the park. You’d grade your papers there, watch the geese float in the water. The local geese were familiar with you now. They’d sit by you sometimes during the week, though mostly they kept their distance. On Sundays though, they’d flock to the shoreline when they saw you coming. You’d bring a big bag of rice and corn, and spread it across the ground. Sometimes they’d eat right out of your hand, especially Mister and Lady Goose. You’d fed them as goslings, and years later, they’d sit by your feet as you fed their goslings. You loved them, and you loved that park.

There we other picnic tables scattered throughout the park and around the pond, benches and lights lined the pathways. There were always people about, and that was how you first saw him. He ran through the park everyday. Morning and afternoon. You’d see him Sunday mornings while you fed the geese, and weekday afternoons while you graded. You’d watch him, hair tied back, long sleeved shirt. He was always sweating. His shirts were long, but he didn’t wear gloves. You paid enough attention to him to realize he had a prosthetic arm. He wasn’t trying to hide it completely, but he didn’t want to call attention to it either. It made you wish the world was kinder. Maybe then he’d be less afraid to show himself.

He’d noticed you of course. How could he not? You were there everyday, and were half the reason he kept running through that park, even though the path was old and cracking, raised in some parts, and not great if your goal was speed. Fortunately, his goal, at least by the pond, was a leisurely jog. The longer he jogged by the longer he could see you. Sometimes he’d stop there, drink some water, as if he really needed a water break, and pretend to take in the scenery before he went on his way.

You were usually working on something. Writing on papers, though he never knew what exactly. You were so beautiful and you didn’t even know it. Alone at that picnic table, you’d laugh out loud at something that you were reading. You’d put your face in your hands when it was really bad, shake your head before you continued writing. Sometimes a gust of wind would blow through the trees, and the cherry blossoms, and petals would swirl around you like you were their very center of gravity. You’d sometimes look up from your work, and watch the petals fall into the pond. You didn’t even notice the way they fell at your feet like an offering, and decorated your hair like they’d been destined to land there. You looked like a scene in a movie.

On Sundays, you’d feed the geese. This was amazing to him, not only because you’d get so close to those horrifying birds, but because you’d pet them too, paying no mind to the absurd amount of geese droppings you had to step around. The goslings would nuzzle at your feet, while their parents ate out of your hand. You weren’t like anything he’d ever seen.

The day you and Bucky met, it was a Friday afternoon. The sun fell softly across the pond and you didn’t have any work to do. You sat there, picking the cantaloupe out of your fruit cup so you could save the best for last, and reading a book on your phone. You could hear his steps as he came around the corner, and though you were usually pretty discreet, for the first time, you accidentally made eye contact. You were looking at him, and by God he was looking at you, and neither of you could stop. But with all his attention on you, he had no awareness of where he was going. He tripped right over the raised concrete and fell smack on his face, barely catching himself in time.

“Holy shit,” As soon as you saw him fall, you were out of your seat running over to him. He rolled over, groaning, hands holding onto his scraped up face.

“Oh my god, are you okay? You’re okay right? Oh goodness, lemme see please.” You grabbed onto his wrists and slowly pulled his hands away from his face. You could feel a little bit of resistance, but could also tell he was letting you do it.

He was a little scraped up, but looked mostly fine. The words slipped out as he said, “God, you're even prettier up close.”

You felt your face heat up. Nobody had ever said anything to you quite as sweet as that. He groaned again, pulling his hands back up to cover his face.

“Is this as embarrassing as it feels?” His voice came through muffled underneath his hands.

You smiled so bright and said, “Maybe a little, but it’s working in your favor. If it’s any consolation, I find it pretty charming.”

He pulled his hands away, looked up at you and said, “I can work with charming.”

You rolled your eyes at that and said, “That’s the line you’re going with? Really?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, not my best work.”

You shook your head, “No kidding.”

You stood up, and reached you hand down to help him up. He didn’t need the assistance, but he thought it was sweet of you to offer. You wiggled your fingers and said, “Well come on then, Prince Charming, time to get up.”

Once he was standing he brushed himself off and said, “So, Princess, what do you say?”

You were confused, “What do I say about what?”

“Sunday morning. Right about here. I’ll bring the coffee and cinnamon rolls?” He was a little nervous, but something in him just told him this was right.

You looked at him for a minute, arms folded across your chest. You’d hardly spoken, but somehow it already felt natural. Easy. Like when you run into a friend you haven’t seen for years, and fall right back into old patterns. Everything following a natural rhythm as if it had been that way all along.

“Cream, two sugars. Bring lots of napkins”

He smiled at that, “See you then, Princess.”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled as you two said goodbye, “You’re not really gonna stick with that nickname, are you? I mean, Princess? No originality. No flair.”

He barked out a laugh, “Okay. Alright. Listen, I see you in this park everyday. I have a nickname for all the park regulars. I can always call you that instead?”

“Oh God, is it even worse than Princess?”

“Maybe,” he said. “See you later, Chess.”

Your eyebrows and nose scrunched up in confusion, “Chess? I don’t play chess.”

He blushed, looked at his feet with a shy smile and said, “Well not chess like, chess chess. Chess like Duchess. Y'know cause, when the blossoms blow in the wind, and you’re sitting over at your table, it’s kinda like that scene from the movie y'know? The Aristocats? When O’Malley shakes the blossoms off the tree and they fall all pretty around Duchess. I thought that was kinda what you looked like, so.”

Your eyes were glassy, and you clenched your jaw to keep the tears from falling. No one had ever made you feel so beautiful. In a burst of courage, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, “See you Sunday, O’Malley. I’ll be waiting.”

—

“So that’s why there’s a Cherry Blossom Tree in the front yard?” She asked.

He looked out over the backyard and said, “Once the house was built, it was the first thing they did. There are pictures of Nana at the plant nursery, with this little tree in a pot. It was maybe five feet tall, a little bigger maybe, when they planted it. It’s been growing well over sixty years now. Closer to seventy maybe, not too sure on the math if I’m being honest.”

“Well what about the rest of this place? There’s so much here.”

“Nana used to say you could travel the Earth and never find somewhere with as much love as this place. When I was a kid I thought that of course there had to be somewhere else, but now that I’m older. Now that I’m back here, in this place, I know she’s right.”

He breathed in deep, wishing his grandmother were here to tell her the stories instead, “You see the gazebo?” He asked. “That gazebo is the reason this place happened the way it did.”

—

It was quiet in your bedroom. In the late hours of the night, a Nuwave Air Fryer infomercial played in the background. The tv was muted, but with your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat was all you needed.

Bucky’s prosthetic was wrapped around your waist, and the cool of the metal was a nice contrast to his body heat. With his other hand, his fingertips drew lines on your back. That behavior, rhythmic and comforting, like the beat of his heart. The assurance that came with the feel of his fingers tracing up and down and back up again in time.

This was all you’d ever wanted. This peace that came from laying beside someone you loved wholly and entirely. Someone who loved you back. In that bed, in that moment, a sort of quietude took root. You had grown so used to the cruelty of men that to be shown such raw love, such unashamed kindness, from this man brought to you an ease you’d never known. It was strange. It felt like it had always been this way. Like something inside of you always knew you would end up here. You knew he felt the same.

“Hey, Chess?” He said, his voice fell over you like the comfort of a familiar blanket.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“It’s the same for you, right? You feel it the same?”

You patted his stomach, “Yeah, Buck. I do.”

His arm that ran up and down your back stopped for a minute. He took his hand, and turned your face up so you were looking at him, “Will you marry me?”

You smiled up at him. That sweet bedtime smile he was so fond of, “Only if you marry me back.”

The side of his mouth turned up, and he ran his hand through your hair, “Ok, I promise I will.”

You kissed his chest, and knew that this was right. Some people had grand proposals. Elaborate secrets, everything carefully timed, so someone could ask the person they love to be with them forever. And that’s beautiful – for them. It’s what’s right for their marriage, and for each other. But you didn’t want that, and neither did Buck. It felt right this way. The two of you, together as you would be always. You’d sleep like this every night for the rest of your lives, and it felt more special this way. Like there wasn’t a question at all. Like this was always how it would be. Like something inside of him always knew he would end up here. He knew you felt the same.

He reached over with his hand to the nightstand, head turning as much as it could to see what he was doing, opened the drawer, and pulled out a little box. He opened it with one hand, and held the box close to you so you could get a good look.

He felt his chest start to get wet, quiet tears falling down your face. You didn’t say anything, just kissed his chest again, and picked your left hand up off his stomach and held it up for him. He took the ring out of it box, and slipped it onto your finger. It fit just right.

He put the box back on his nightstand, and started running his fingers up and down your back again. You burrowed into him as close as your bodies would let you, “Let’s get a house, now. One with lots of windows.”

You and Bucky had long since talked about what you wanted in the future. A house, somewhere quiet, but not too quiet. Kids, who would run around. Children who you could show everyday how beautiful this world could be. You’d take them to the park where you first met every Sunday, and feed the geese under the cherry blossoms.

Bucky’s words came right in step with yours, “A big backyard, with lots of grass. When the kids come, me and Sam can build them a jungle gym.”

“With a swing set. I loved the swings when I was a kid. I still love the swings.”

Bucky nodded, “With a swing set.”

“We can have a wrap around porch. One with a porch swing, and we can sit on it together. Maybe we can grow a vegetable garden. With lots of basil and rosemary. Maybe hot peppers, and tomatoes. Behind it we can grow an apple tree. We’ll cook all the time, sometimes with the stuff we’ve grown ourselves.”

“I want a plum tree too. Some blueberry bushes. Or a strawberry patch in the front yard. And I want a big kitchen. Something nice, with all kinds of pots and pans, and a walk-in pantry. One day we’ll teach the kids to make cookies there.” Bucky said smiling.

“With granite countertops. The kind that you have to Windex to keep clean.”

It went quiet for a moment, before you spoke again, only a little hesitant this time, “What if we... What if we got married there? We could... We could build a gazebo in the backyard. Do it up with lights and flowers. Invite just the people we love. We’d get married right there. Maybe have our first dance inside there too, or something. That way there’d be nowhere more special than our home. We could sit on the steps of the back porch, and for the rest of our lives we’d look out at that gazebo and remember. We could dance there all the time and know that no place in the world had known more love. And one day, growing up with the pictures on the walls, having seen the old videos, one of our kids will want to get married there too. If we’re real lucky.”

You looked up at Bucky, after realizing you’d gone off on quite a fantastical tangent. He was already looking at you, silent tears rolling down his face.

“Our wedding night could be the first night we spend in our new home. I’d carry you into the house. We could... we could plant a cherry blossom tree in the front yard.”

You couldn’t hold back your smile, and neither could he. He laughed through tears, too full of joy to keep it in.

“I love you, James.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

—

“Your grandparents really got married here?”

“Yeah. I can show you the pictures when we go back inside. I told you this place was a dump when they bought it. They had a lot of help fixing it up, but when they did, this was where they got married. Uncle Steve got married here too. So did Aunt Becca. Mom and Dad were never married, but that’s probably for the best, since they separated anyways. I wonder if mom knew it might happen. Didn’t want to taint this place.”

Your grandson took a moment to breathe before he kept talking, “Even with how mom and dad turned out though, I never doubted that love was real. So many of my friends who grew up with divorced parents came out of it so scarred. With this fear of love and marriage, like it was always destined to go wrong. But Nana and Grampy always loved each other. When we were little, we’d sleep over, and run around in the yard while they sat together on the porch. I can still hear their laughter echoing throughout the house. I rarely ever saw them argue. And mom says, when they got angry at each other when she was a kid, they’d walk away, and stay apart for the rest of the day. They’d dance in the gazebo that night, and mom says it was like the anger had never been there at all. Like, when they came back together in that place, they agreed to let it wash away with every step.”

“They must’ve been incredible.” She said in awe.

“They were. Not without their faults, of course, but they were really something,” he took a deep breath. “You know, Uncle Steve owns this place now. When Nana passed, Grampy couldn’t take it. They were both in their nineties, but Grampy had more years in him still. But without Nana it was like he didn’t wanna do it anymore. He wanted to be with her again so bad. But when I close my eyes, I can still feel them here. See them dancing, hear their laughter. I’d sit between them on the porch swing sometimes, and listen to them tell stories. It’s like, those stories are still in the walls. Just waiting for new ones to be created.”

He looked over at the woman he loved, and stood up with his hand held out. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“My favorite spot here,” he said.

—

Your kids were growing so fast. Steve was nearly 15 now and it all felt so strange and wonderful to see them grow. Becca had just turned 13, and your youngest, Winnie, turned ten not long after. It hurt in the best way possible, and there was nothing that could have prepared you for that feeling.

You and Bucky sat on the porch swing, looking out at your Cherry Blossom. It was so big now. It would keep growing of course, but compared to the little thing it was when you first got it, you could hardly believe what it had become. Where had the time gone?

You curled into Bucky and sat quietly. Music played over your speakers, softly in the background, and he hummed along.

“Hey, Buck. I got a stupid idea. You on board?” You looked up at him, mischief on your mind.

“Always, Chess.”

“Okay, stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You went through the front door, giggling. Steve was sitting on the couch as you passed through the living room, and for some reason, it made you feel like you’d been caught.

“Mom, what are you doing?”

You slowed your pace and said, “Nothing. Mind your business, nosey butt.”

You made it into the kitchen, and began giggling again. You went to where your purse sat on the counter, and rummaged around till you found your pocket knife.

Walking back outside, trying to appear very normal as you passed a very suspicious Steve in the living room, you sat back down on the swing. You flicked open the knife and looked at Bucky with the smile that always meant trouble, “Ready?”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him, and he laughed at you, “What the hell do you plan on doing with that?”

You closed the knife for the time being, grabbed his hand, and said, “Just follow me, Buck.”

He shook his head as you dragged him up and over to the Cherry Blossom tree, where you opened your knife again.

He leaned against the side of the tree watching you as you began to carve a heart into the bark, “Are you seriously carving out initials into this tree like we’re a pair of pre-teens.”

You smiled at him, “Obviously.”

He shook his head, but looked at you like you were the moon, “You are so impossibly dumb.”

You laughed at that, “Yeah, I know. Married you didn’t I?”

He rolled his eyes as if annoyed, but you knew better, “Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

You had finished the heart and began carving your initials. When you finished, you handed Bucky the knife, and he carved his own. When he finished he closed the knife, and kissed you softly.

Inside, Steve, knowing something was up had called his sisters. All three kids sat watching from the front window. Once you kissed, they all pulled away rolling their eyes. Winnie said, “Do they always have to do that?”

Steve shrugged, “Better that than the opposite, I guess.”

Becca nodded, “Still gross though.”

“Oh, yeah definitely,” Steve said. “Definitely gross.”

Outside, you and your husband looked at each other. In that moment, it was all you needed.

—

“See, look,” Your grandson said standing underneath the blossom branches. “I used to come out here as a kid, and trace my fingers along their initials. Nana told me she thought it was like something out of an old movie. I just thought it was special.”

He watched as the woman he loved traced her fingers gently around the heart and over its letters, “It’s beautiful.”

The wind blew by, and the petals fell from the trees. He knew, this is what his grandpa felt when he saw his grandma in the park. He understood why he called her Chess right up to the day she died. Cause right here, right now, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen looked up at the petals as they fell. She looked ethereal. Blissful. Soft and dreamy. Just like Duchess.

She was too busy looking at the petals to notice him drop to one knee. When the wind finally stopped and she went to look at the love of her life, she froze. There he was, so handsome, down on one knee. Her hand came over her mouth as he said, “I love you so much. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, and if you let me, I’ll love you till the day I die... Uncle Steve agreed to sell me this house. We could live here, if you want. Get married, just like my grandparents. There would be so much love here. I want to share it with you, if you’ll let me.”

She fell to her knees, kissed him fiercely, and without an ounce of hesitation said, “Yes.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you

81 notes · View notes

doof-doofblog · 3 years

Text

"I'll Chase Them Up In The Morning, Okay?"

Friday 15th January 2021

Hello again everyone! Hope your weekend has been okay so far! I hope you're all keeping well and looking after yourselves. I apologise for this post being a little late, but I'm ready to head straight into it!

So there's quite a bit to catch up on, the first thing I'm going to mention is Ruby and Martin. After her husband finally coming round to the idea of her being pregnant, Ruby makes a suggestion for her husband. In an attempt to get pregnant, she asks Martin to spend lunch at home with her. Unfortunately, things don't go down the way she expected, as in the meantime Martin has caught up with Kush. Obviously wanting to be the supportive friend, he wants to be there for his best mate, they've been through so much together. Martin informs his friend that Ruby is pregnant with his child, of course Kush is completely over the moon for his friend. Later Ruby is sat at home waiting for her husband to join her, only as the door opens she hears two voices coming inside the house. It becomes clear that Martin hasn't come home alone, he enters the room acknowledging his wife, even though he appears to be on the phone ordering food, suddenly Kush appears, much to Ruby's surprise. Her plans have simply gone out the window. Kush congratulates her and gestures that he's bought some non-alcoholic wine to celebrate. I loved this moment, I thought it was hilarious - as Kush disappears to grab some glasses, Ruby hints to her husband that she wanted to spend the afternoon in bed together, Martin suddenly realises his wife's intensions, but the first thing that comes out of his mouth - "The pizzas are on the way!" ... Clearly pizza is more important to Martin!! But then again, doesn't food always come first?!

The next thing I want to mention is Gray and Karen. After Gray insisted that he wanted his children back to live with him, I guess its fair to say that Karen has been wanting to help as much as possible. I'm assuming it's a way of keeping Chantelle close, but of course she wants to be there for her Grandchildren and tell them stories about their Mother. She even proposes to Gray that she'd help out with the children's meals and homework etc etc, just to give that extra bit of help. However, regardless of her kind gestures, it looks as if that Gray is getting fed up of her, thinking she's interfering with his children. Something tells me that he's not going to be able to cope with her interfering for much longer. I think it's also fairly obvious to say that Gray is someone who likes to keep things in order and very tidy - it was the same when Tina was living there. Of course with Karen helping looking after the children, the house is going to get messy, it looks as if Gray's anger is bubbling inside of him and soon that anger is going to burst. I do fear for Karen, I fear that if she treads on his toes a bit too much, he may go over the edge once again and take his anger out on her. What do you guys think? Could Karen be in danger of being Gray's next victim?!

The third thing I want to mention is the Trueman/Fox family. Firstly, I just want to mention how much I LOVED Kim in this episode. Even though she was only in it for a short moment, her part was just the most brilliant, hilarious part for me. I just love Tameka Empson, she plays the part of Kim so brilliantly, iconic! She's just fantastic! After Patrick being discharged from the hospital and finally returning home, it looks as if the Fox's and Trueman's are sat in silence as they ponder the recent events. Patrick betraying Denise and taking Raymond to see Phil and then Lucas's attack. However, in the silence, Kim enters with a huge handful of balloons to welcome Patrick home. Of course, being her usual self, she is happy and bubbly and smiley as she sees him sat in his chair, only everyone is silent and looks at her holding these huge balloons. I just thought it was brilliant! Denise still can't bring herself to understand why Patrick would go behind her back and let Phil see Raymond. Patrick starts to dwell on his actions and attempts to get up and leave so her can speak to Phil, however Denise stops him in his path and decides to take it upon herself to speak to Phil. After a while she finds Phil on the Square and confronts him about everything, seeing Raymond and attacking Lucas. I do kind of feel that Phil should have a right to see his son, regardless of his dodgy past and reputation. Only when Denise accuses him of attacking Lucas, Phil puts her straight - all he did was talk to Lucas and left him to it, he had nothing to do with Lucas being attacked. This surprises Denise but also makes her worry that there could be someone else who's out for revenge against him, which could mean that her daughter Chelsea could be in danger. Who's to say that to get to Lucas, they may attack Chelsea? Later, she calls for both her daughter and ex-husband to meet, getting straight to the point that Phil was not behind his attack, and for the sake of everyone's safety, it would be best if Lucas was to stay away, not just from Denise - but from Chelsea aswell. Only, of course, we know that it was in actual fact Chelsea who set up the attack on her Dad. She tries to fight her Dad's corner and informs her Mother that she's overreacting, telling her that she has no right telling her Dad what to do! However, Lucas agrees with Denise and tells Chelsea that he will stay away if it means keeping her safe. The interesting thing now is, how is Chelsea going to be able to carry on getting her revenge on her Dad? Which I'm assuming is what she's doing - unless she's after something specific. Is she out for revenge? Does she want to teach her Dad a lesson? Or is there something much more darker going on with Chelsea? What is she after and who has been calling her? I'm really looking forward to seeing this story continue.

The final thing we need to mention of course is Ian! So, after a long time of feeling unwell, Ian has gone to the Doctor's, and of course Sharon is by his side, acting as the doting wife. Ian begins to describe how unwell he's been feeling since coming out of hospital, getting weak and collapsing etc. They suggest taking some blood tests and checking things going on inside that could've made him feel so unwell. However, in her attempt to swerve the Doctor's from checking Ian's insides, she suggests that Ian could have depression, as he has had it before, and that it could be his mental health making him feel this way. The Doctor does seem to agree that that could be a possibility, however Ian insists that his emotions have nothing to do with him collapsing. They arrange to date to take some blood tests and do a mental health assessment. Later, when they've returned to the Vic, Sharon sneakily rings the Doctor's, informing them that she wants to postpone Ian's tests, using the excuse that they're going on their honeymoon. But unbeknown to her, Max has heard every word of her phone conversation, it looks as if Max is slowly sussing out Sharon, he's certainly looking very suspicious of her. As Ian is left resting upstairs, alone, Max somehow manages to sneak his way upstairs and finds Ian on the couch. Regardless of their recent history, Max sits with Ian and informs him that the reason he's feeling so unwell and that the one person who could be responsible of wanting him dead, could in fact be Sharon. Ian at first doesn't believe him, but he makes a few valid points - they still haven't slept together, they don't have a prenup and most importantly, perhaps Sharon believes Dotty's words about his involvement with Dennis's death that what he first realised, plus he drops the big bombshell that he's just overheard her postponing his doctor's tests. Ian seems to brush off Max's words, even though he thanks him for his concern. But the interesting thing is, when Max leaves, Sharon peeps in on her husband, it's at this moment where you can see that Max's words are playing on his mind. He questions whether he should sleep in Sharon's bed that night, but Sharon flirtatiously suggests that they wait until he's feeling much better. Ian smiles at her response, but then when he questions on whether she's heard about his tests, she face up denies hearing anything and promises to check the following morning. I think it's this moment that Ian realises that what Max has said, could be right!

So many questions to be asked as well, will Sharon be caught out before it's too late? Will she even possibly have a change of heart?! What is going on with Chelsea? I'm looking forward to her secret being revealed! And also, how and when will Ruby get pregnant? Will she lean on someone else to get her pregnant? Or will she have to lie even further and possibly fake a miscarriage, potentially asking her husband for them to try again? Who knows?! There are endless possibilities all these stories can take. Personally, I'm looking forward to seeing them all unravel! I hope you've all enjoyed reading! Thank you all for your on-going support, I appreciate it endlessly! Enjoy the rest of your weekend folks! Love you all xXx

#eastenders #rubyfowler #martinfowler #kushkazemi #grayatkins #karentaylor #denisefox #lucasjohnson #chelseafox #kimfox #patricktrueman #philmitchell #sharonbeale #ianbeale #maxbranning

2 notes · View notes