#—throwing you through a wall—making you a bouquet out of yard flowers*))

[robin-5-technically]

Ah I’m truly hurt… have I ever lied to you?

✨

Always so suspicious of my actions and gifts…

Always jumping to the worst conclusions…

Ah well…I suppose that ignorance is bliss after all…

Why face the music when you can live in a deluded reality of your own making?

Oh…how trust is so easily obtained yet forsaken…

((🥹!!))

-✨

I would be less suspicious of you if you gave me less reason to be suspicious. There is nothing ignorant or deluded about being cautious of you.

[peachbear88]

Tale as Old as Time

A/N: Yes, it's basically Beauty and the Beast. I LOVE DISNEY MOVIES OKAY?

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

You shiver on the cold stone of the jail cell, wrapping your cloak tighter around you. How did you end up in the jail cell? A series of long, unfortunate events.

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

The door to your shabby home swings close as you prance down the cobble streets, book in hand.

"Little town,"

"It's a quiet village."

"Every day,"

"Like the one before."

"Little town,"

"Full of little people,"

"Waking up to say."

Windows are flung upon as the townspeople peer down at you.

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour."

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour!

"Bonjour."

A man with a long white apron proffers a tray of fresh, steaming buns towards you and you snatch one, nodding your thanks.

"There goes the baker with his tray like always,"

"The same old bread and rolls to sell."

He opens his mouth to protest but thinks better of it.

"Every morning just the same,"

"Since the morning that we came,"

"To this poor provincial town."

A man approaches you, tipping his hat.

"Good morning Y/N." You smile at his kind, pudgy face.

"Good morning Monsieur Hogan. Have you lost something?"

"Well, I believe I have. Problem is I can't remember what." He scratches his chin. "Oh well. I'm sure it'll turn up somewhere." His eyes float down to the book clutched in your hand. "Where you off to?"

"To return this book to Monsieur T'Challa. It's about 2 lovers in fair Verona." He snorts.

"Sounds boring."

You shrug and continue down the stone path towards the small town library.

"Look there she goes, that girl is strange no question."

A small band of boys watch you as you walk down the street.

"Dazed and distracted can't you tell?"

"Never part of any crowd,"

"'Cause her head's stuck on some cloud."

"No denying she's a funny girl that Y/N.”

The marketplace is bustling as usual as you slip through the many stalls. The familiar buzz of conversation fills your ears.

"Bonjour, good day, how is your family?"

"Bonjour, good day, how is your wife?"

"I need, 6 eggs."

"That's too expensive."

You sigh, spinning around.

"There must be more than this provincial life!"

You fling the door of the library open to find your second favorite person in the world, T'Challa, dusting the shelves.

"Ah, if it isn't the only bookworm in town! Where did you run off to this week?" He waves the duster at you, making you cough.

"Two cities in Northern Italy. I didn't want to come back. D'you have any new books?" You inquire, leaning over the small collection piled in the corner.

"I'm afraid not," He sighs. "But you may read any of the old ones you'd like."

You pick out your personal favorite.

"Your library makes our small corner of the world feel big." T’Challa smiles.

"Bon voyage!" He shouts as you close the door behind yourself.

"Look there she goes, that girl is so peculiar,"

"I wonder if she's feeling well." A scholar mused as you passed.

"With a dreamy far-off look,"

"And her nose stuck in a book."

"What a puzzle to the rest of us is Y/N."

You hop onto the stone wall of the well, still reading the book, nearly stepping on the hands of the laundresses cleaning on the edge of the well.

"Oh, isn't this amazing?" You twirl around on the stone wall, earning many disgruntled looks from the laundresses. "It's my favorite part because, you'll see." You hop off the stone wall, continuing down the path back to your home. "Here's where she meets Prince Charming, but she won't discover that it's him, till chapter 3."

"Now it's no wonder that her nickname is Beauty,"

"Her looks have got no parallel."

A disgruntled mother says, her fair daughters standing behind her, glaring daggers at you.

"But behind that fair facade,"

"I'm afraid she's rather odd."

"Very different from the rest of us,"

"She's nothing like the rest of us,"

"Yes, different from the rest of is Y/N!"

Peering through his golden telescope at you, Steve Rogers sighs from atop his handsome horse.

"Look at her Sam. My future wife." He hands Sam the telescope who accepts it rather reluctantly. "Belle is the most beautiful girl in the village. Makes her the best." He whispers confidentially, waggling his eyebrows. Sam cringes.

"But she's so... well-read. And you're so..." He looks Steve up and down. "Athletically-inclined." Steve waves him off, setting his horse at a healthy trot towards the town.

"Yes, ever since the war, I felt like I've been missing something. She's the only girl that has ever given me that sense of..."

"Je ne sais quoi?" Sam proffers. Steve scoffs, entering the village.

"I don't know what that means."

"Right from the moment when I met her, saw her,"

"I said she's gorgeous and I fell."

"Here is town there's only she,"

"Who is beautiful as me."

"So I'm making plans to woo and marry Y/N."

The fair girls from before swoon as Steve walks by, who only has eyes for you.

"Look there he goes,"

"Isn't he dreamy?"

"Monsieur Rogers!"

"Oh he's so cute!"

"Be still my heart,"

"I'm hardly breathing,"

"He's such a tall, dark, strong and handsome brute!"

They shriek in disgust as Steve hops off his horse, splattering them with mud. Sam hops off his horse as well.

"It's never going to happen ladies." He whispers as they whimper in distress.

"Bonjour!"

"Pardon!" Steve attempts to push through the crowds to get to you.

"Good day!"

"Mais oui!"

"You call this bacon?"

"What lovely flowers!"

"Some cheese, ten yards, one pound-"

"Please let me through!" He grabs a bouquet of flowers from a nearby stall.

"This bread."

"Those fish!"

"It's stale!"

"They smell."

"Madame's mistaken!"

"Well maybe so-"

You burst through the masses of people, twirling as you reach your home.

"There must be more than this provincial life!"

Steve slicks back his hair, approaching you at a smart pace.

"Just watch, I'm going to make Y/N my wife!"

The town resumes their unashamed staring at you.

"Look there she goes the girl is strange but special,"

"A most peculiar mademoiselle!"

"It's a pity and a sin,"

"She doesn't quite fit in."

"'Cause she really is a funny girl,"

"A beauty but a funny girl,"

"She really is a funny girl,"

"That Y/N."

The townsfolk resume their normal quarrel and haggling as you slip through the flimsy gate and through your cabbage patch. Steve follows.

"Y/N!" You turn to find Steve flashing you what he thinks is a dashing smile. You recoil in disgust, instantly speeding up your pace, hoping to get inside before he can get to you. A flood of hope grips you as your hand wraps around the door handle but a strong arm grips your other wrist and you deflate.

Sighing, you turn to face Steve.

"Yes Monsieur Rogers?" He flashes a greasy smile your way and shoves the flowers into your face.

"For your dinner table! May I join you tonight?"

At least he has the manners to ask, you think.

"Not tonight, no." He deflates slightly.

"Oh. Busy?" You wince, prying his fingers off your wrist.

"Not exactly."

"Oh. Then why not-" You cut him off.

"Listen, I really have to go. Books to read, places to explore, people to ignore." You open the door, sliding in and closing it before he can follow you. "Good bye."

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

You sigh with relief, taking a moment to catch your breath before continuing further into your home. A drawing pinned to the drawing board catches your eye. A charcoal sketch of you. Well, baby you to be exact. A smile graces your lips as you tear your eyes away from the sketch and to your father, Tony Stark. He hums a small tune as he tinkers with an elegant music box.

"How does a moment last forever?"

"How can a story never die?"

"It is love we must hold onto,"

"Never easy, but we try."

"Sometimes our happiness is captured,"

"Somehow our time and place stand still."

"Love lives on inside our hearts,"

"And always will."

You wrap your arms around him and he smiles.

"Hello papa."

"Hello Y/N. D'you think you could pass me the-" You roll your eyes, handing him the tool before he finishes his sentence. "-tweezers- Oh. Thank you." He pulls a broken cog from the music box. "And now, something long and thin-" You pull the hairpin from your hair and hand it to him. He glances at it and a smirk grows on his face. "No, no, not quite-" He glances at the machine again. "Actually, yes, exactly."

With a final prod, the music box comes to life once again. The two of you share a small smile before he shoves it into his leather satchel and hauls it outside. You follow him, watching as he loads it into a rickety wooden cart along with a few other items. Your horse, Elm scuffs the cobbled pathways with his hooves, eager to get a move on.

"Well, I'm off to the market dear. Anything you'd like me to get for you?" You smile, leaning against the horse as Tony swings his leg over the horse to straddle it.

"A rose." He scoffs, tipping his hat down to you.

"You ask for that every year!"

"And you bring it ever year." You retort and he smiles, giving you a quick peck on the forehead.

"Very well. A rose you shall receive. I'll see you in a few days!" With a flick of his wrists, Elm starts off at a trot and Tony waves goodbye one more time.

"Be careful," You whisper as he disappears from your sight. With a sigh, you return to the house.

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

You throw your dirty clothes into a barrel, adding some soap rinds into the mix before carrying it to the town well and rigging it to a horse which marches around the well. You smile proudly at your handy work. Self sufficient laundry machine.

Leaning against the wooden support beam with a sigh, you pull out your book and start reading. A small voice next to you grabs your attention.

"What are you doing?" You smile at her.

"Laundry. Come, come!" You pat the spot next to you encouragingly. Tentatively, she sits next to you and you hand her the book.

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

The pastor storms towards you and the little girl.

"Teaching another girl to read? Isn't one enough?" He sneers. You glare back at him, snapping your book closed indignantly.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to know more."

"We've got to do something about this." His wife mutters.

Before you can comprehend the meaning of her words, a man pulls your barrel of clothes out of the well and throws them to the ground, spilling the contents everywhere. You fall to your knees, scrambling to pick up the clothes as others laugh at you.

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

"Wow. You are so beautiful. No wonder everyone wants to marry you. So dashing." Steve whispers seductively, flexing in front of the mirror. Sam clears his throat causing Steve to jump. "What do you want Sam?"

"A certain damsel in distress awaits you." He quirks an eyebrow, gesturing with his head to where you crouch, gathering your sopping wet garments. He turns back to the mirror, slicking his hair back.

"It's hero time. I'm not done with you yet." He winks at the mirror before rushing to you. Sam leans into the frame of the mirror.

"Me neither."

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

From the corner of your eye, you spot Steve approaching rapidly. Gathering the last of your clothes, you scurry away.

"Ah Y/N!" You groan at your luck. "I heard you got in trouble with the pastor. S'all right. He never liked me anyways."

You groan in frustration.

"I was just teaching a child to read!" He smirks, sliding closer. You step back.

"The only children you should be concerning yourself with are..." He gestures between the two of you. You arch an eyebrow. "Your own!" You scoff, slipping through the gate and into the cabbage patch. He jumps over the flimsy gate and stomps towards you, squashing at least 4 cabbages. You watch him with barely disguised disgust.

"Look, you know what happens to girls when their fathers die? They end up like poor Agatha, forced to beg for scraps!" He points at Agatha, a rather kind but unlucky woman.

"Well, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it." You reply coldly.

"Look, let me make it simpler for your tiny female brain." He growls. You arch an eyebrow at his choice of words. "Marry me and you will never have to deal with that." You scoff.

"Marry you? I'd rather marry a rock." You slam the door in his face. He sighs, rubbing his face with a calloused hand. Dejected, he walks back to where Sam stands. You glare at him from where you stand on the balcony.

"Can you imagine, me, the wife of that boorish, brainless..."

"Madame Rogers,"

"Can't you just see it?"

"Madame Rogers,"

"His little wife."

You groan in disgust.

"No sir, not me,"

"I guarantee it,"

"I want much more than this provincial life!"

You sprint towards the green hills a good distance from the walls of the village.

"I want adventure in the great wide somewhere,"

"I want it more than I can tell."

"And for once it might be grand,"

"To have someone understand,"

"I want so much more than they've got planned..."

You sigh, running a grime covered hand through your hair before returning to your home.

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

You're pulling the ripe cabbages from the ground when it all comes crashing down.

A panicked whine comes from beside you. Your head shoots up to find Elm, pawing at the gate nervously.

"Elm? Where is papa?" Elm rears back, clearly skittish. "Take me to him!

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

You arrive at a monstrous looking castle, stone gargoyles with vicious fangs guarding the doors. You gulp, brandishing a large stick. The door handle is cool to the touch, sending shivers down your spine. You enter to find a well lit entrance hall, adorned with brilliant paintings and sculptures, although in the dark, they appear much more menacing.

With a gulp, you continue on, bringing the massive stick a little closer.

"Look Doctor Strange! A girl!" A voice whispers from the shadows.

"Yes I know it's a girl! I can see." A second, older voice snaps.

You whirl around but all you see is a flash of misty blue. Squaring your shoulders, you prepare yourself to investigate the blue wisps when a rough cough sounds out from above.

"Papa!" You race up the winding stairs into a much more sinister looking tower. Laying there on the cold stone floor is your father, his face pale and body shaking with each cough. The cold sunlight illuminates his face and he jumps up, grabbing the metal bars of his cell.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" You shake out of stupor, smacking the iron bars in a futile attempt to free him.

"I'm here to rescue you." Fear floods his features.

"No! You must get out of here! I'm old and my days are numbered. But you, you're young and you have so much to live for. Go, get out of here before she comes back!" You scrunch your face.

"She?" Massive footsteps echo from further up the stairwell. You raise the stick in front of you. A tall shadow appears on the stone walls of the tower. You gulp, inching forward but the figure stays in the shadows.

"You should not have come," A heavily accented voice rings out and your throat dries up.

"I had to. He's my father. Please, let him go." You call back but the figure scoffs.

"Your father is a thief!"

"Liar!" You cry.

"He stole a rose."

"I asked for that rose!"

An idea forms in your head and you slowly lower the stick. "Wait. What if you let him go and I take his place?"

"No! She means forever!" Your eyes widen.

"You monster! A life sentence for a rose?"

The woman laughs humorlessly.

"I was given a life sentence when I was little. Do you think I deserved it? You may call me a monster but trust me, I've been called much worse." You sigh, the gears in your brain whirring.

"Can I at least have a moment to say goodbye to my father?" The voice grunts and the shadow recedes. "Are you so cruel you won't even allow a daughter to kiss her father goodbye?" The figure pauses but slowly comes back down and into the light. Your throat dries up at the sight.

A beautiful girl in a blood red cape with auburn hair that burned in the torchlight, you felt your ears flush bright red. With a flick of her fingers, a red mist surrounds them and the metal gate swings open.

Your eyes grow wide at the display.

Magic.

You don't have time to think about it however as a strong set of arms wrap around you.

"Y/N!"

"Papa!" The two of you embrace as you discreetly waddle around so that his back is to the cell door.

"Y/N, listen to me. You have so much to live for. I lost your mother already and I can not lose you too. Live your life! Forget about me." He whispers into your hair and you feel a tear slip down your cheek.

"I will never forget you Papa. And don't worry. I will find a way out of here." His eyes widen before you push him through the threshold of the cell and slam the door behind him. He stumbles, falling onto his back, betrayal clear in his eyes.

"Y/N!" The woman stares at you for a moment, disbelief glimmering in her eyes before it disappears.

"You fool." She spits. Your father watches you with wide, horrified eyes. The woman grabs him roughly and drags him down the stairwell, his screams echoing off the walls.

"Papa! Don't hurt him!" A sob escapes your throat as you curl into a ball, wrapping your cloak further around yourself to preserve the warmth.

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

You sigh, shivering as a cool gust of wind hits your back.

'Forever damned to freeze in a cell. Some adventurous life this is' You think to yourself as sleep claims you.

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

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain112

[poormeowmeowcollector]

We would name our children Jackie and Wilson

Relationship: Loki/Female Reader (Hozier did the gender first, don't @ me)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, mental health, alcohol.

Summary: Your relationship reminds you of a nice soft song. But things are not always so sweet.

Notes: this is part of a somewhat Collab with @lucywrites02, her part is done and can be found here, read it to soften the pain. I would say that I'm terribly sorry for the pain ahead, but I'm not. Meaning of the song can be found here, I used it for reference

Read On AO3

So tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes

Loki fights for a deep breath.

It's just your face, you idiot. What are you afraid of? This mean voice from the back of his head asks.

They manage to draw a shaky inhale and puff it out, finally opening his eyes and staring at the reflection.

But those hateful crimson eyes staring back is too much, even though they look at them behind tears.

"Maybe another day…" he sighs and wears the illusion again. But the bloodshot eyes stay, this time not because of the Jötunn form.

No better version of me I could pretend to be tonight

For how long will you hide from the monster you are? This same voice asks in the dead of the night.

Once again, it's not mistaken.

"I can't walk amongst mortals like this. This illusion helps me avoid some of the staring," they respond. It's a beautiful lie, Loki almost believes it.

Still, it will break down. Like everything does.

This argument stays and torments him for the rest of the night.

Soul deep in this swill with the most familiar of swine / For reasons wretched and divine

Stark had suggested another night out on a bar. Loki usually declines, but comes to this one.

Soon enough, everyone is drunk and happy. Alcohol from Midgard is like a beverage for Æsir, and Loki can barely get tipsy. But Loki still decides to drink.

This period had some very successful missions, and the avengers are celebrating it by drinking. Little do they know that Loki drinks for a whole more different reasons…

She blows out of nowhere, a roman candle of the wild

It's late. Loki's surely past the tipsy phase, but still has control. So, they just sit on a bar and watch the others have fun.

"Would you mind some company?" you yell from a part of the crowd. Loki tries not to flinch, loud sounds do no good at him.

Then they see you, all smiling and beaming like a firework, drink in hand as you walk closer and point at a stool beside him.

They have to admit, you look ravishing.

"You're free to sit, if you want to," he smiles back and nods at the seat. You grin and slide there, placing your drink in the bar and having your attention to them.

"Are you not afraid someone might drug the drink?" Loki winders, eyes on the cocktail.

"Sitting beside an Avenger is safe enough, don't you think? And it's rubbish anyways, I probably won't finish it,"

Midgard has different communication patterns, and Loki's inability to catch up in time has made their silver tongue rusty and useless. But you make a conversation with him out of nowhere, like it's the most easy thing.

Laughing her way through my feeble disguise/ And Lord, she found me just in time

A few days later after the night out, the sparks of happiness you casted on Loki's heart have died out. But Thor insists that being out of the four walls of their chambers will do good to him, and Loki gives in. They wear an illusion to hide the mess that he is in and join Thor on their afternoon walk around for some food, mostly.

During the hours long conversation, you didn't mention that you work for Stark, in the Tower. They smile and call your name the sparks igniting inside his heart once again. It gets stronger when you give them this glowing smile and walk closer.

"Brother, will you mind if I get stolen for a moment?" he turns to Thor.

"Have fun, brother," he smiles before greeting you and leaving.

"You know, there's a nice coffee shop with a big tea collection, what do you think?" you beam, knowing it's an offer Loki cannot resist.

It's not far away, and truly a sweet little place, crammed between the offices. You order your drinks and settle on a table nearby. You give Loki the chair with the view on the passers by, sitting so you can only see them and the wall behind him.

"You didn't say you work for Stark," they hum, taking a testing sip of the dandelion tea that caught his attention.

"That's cause I work for the Avengers, technically, not Stark. Mission support agent, Romanov brought me here," you shrug one shoulder. Loki can't hide a smile, they always had a soft spot for humble warriors, for they're so rare on Asgard.

"Odd, I don't remember you in any field," he mutters.

"I haven't gone on a mission with you. I find it insulting for a God to be supported by someone who learned how to tie their shoelaces at age 12," you laugh. Loki doesn't share the enthusiasm for the 'joke'.

"You'll be the best support, if you ask me," they smile, and change the subject. And then, you throw this damned question.

"So, how are you doing?" you trail off.

"Just fine," he scoffs. You see through it like they're the worst liar ever.

"I know we're somewhere public, but you are allowed to be honest," your eyes scan him.

He takes a deep breath and makes an illusion of you and them just talking. Then, he lifts his own.

Your face stays almost unreadable as the green glow reveals the mess of them. Expect for the eyes that speak of sympathy.

Underneath the table, you cup his right hand, your thumb petting it. "If you want to, we can go somewhere more private. Your call,"

"Only you can see this. Don't worry, I'm not making a fool out of you," they laugh without humour, voice almost breaking. You now squeeze the hand.

"You'll have to actively try to make a fool out of me, your highness. It's your boundaries I'm worried about," the playful tone leaves you as you speak.

You've barely done anything, but Loki is already determined to kill for you.

Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done / I need to be youthfully felt 'cause, God, I never felt young

"Forget it, I'm not doing it. It's stupid!" he tries hard not to yell at you.

"But it's going to be fun! Come on, you can cast an illusion if you're embarrassed. Didn't you have fun as a teen?" You grin, pleading for them to come.

Little do you know that the last question feels like a knife in the guts.

"No," he whispers.

"Okay then. I'll be there with Sam, you can pop up if you change your mind," you sigh. It takes some minutes for them to realise what you just said.

"Allow me to rephrase it. No, I didn't have fun as a teen, I had to prepare myself for the throne I wouldn't take. And… this park will do nothing but remind me what I've lost. I'm sorry but I can't come nor change my mind," he fights against tears as he talks, your eyes on them. You walk closer and cup one cheek, letting them rest their head.

"Society says that you must have certain experiences at certain time frames. It's wrong, especially for someone who will live for as long as you. There's always time to replace things you've lost, the question if if you'll do it or not,"

Loki gazes at you and takes a deep breath, in, holding it, and out. Almost like he's smoking the air.

"Fine. But don't force me to stay if it's too much," they smile weakly, but it's genuine.

"Have I ever forced you?" you grin and place your forehead against his. "And anything critical to your physical health doesn't count,"

They laugh before nodding a no, a small kiss being blown in your nose.

Lord, it'd be great to find a place we could escape sometime / Me and my Isis growing black irises in the sunshine

Out of all the things Loki expected his fallen heart to do, daydreaming was last on the list.

They're a realist, always have been.

But the image of him and you in a nice stone castle in the middle of the woods is too perfect to resist. How you two would wake up and sleep together, have no one and nothing to make you feel anything but bliss. The two Monarchs in your little kingdom of two residents

Norns, they haven't even talked to you about these feelings. And he's already scheming his retirement with you.

How are you doing this to them?

Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside / We'd sit back and watch the world go by

"That's it, Laufeyson," he's glaring at the mirror, one finger pointing at the glass, "no more lies. Fuck those illusions and games and just say the damned words!"

They sigh and run their fingers through the hair, testing if the smell of smoke is still in there, after five sessions with the shower. He has noticed that you don't like the smell, when you keep some distance on his bad days. And stinking on a moment like this is the least they want.

"Alright… into the battlefield…" he conjures his weapon, a bouquet of black irises, your favourite flowers. They finally teleport themselves on the field, outside your door.

Goal of the mission: be vulnerable.

He rings the bell, fixing his already perfect posture before you open the door. This smile they know and love so much is on your lips.

"You didn't have to! Come in," you exhale, beaming as you make space for him to walk in.

They call your name, the tone making your smile drop. "I have to tell you something I've been hiding from you for a while…" he sighs.

You nod, the agent face on. A green shimmer makes the flowers rest in a vase on the coffee table, Loki's hands now free to pick on each other.

"I appreciate your friendship, more than you can ever imagine. You're the only person who has reached out to me like this for eons. But, my heart has started to yearn for more. I've fallen for you, hard. And I can't keep the illusion anymore," they recite, eyes scanning your unreadable face. You stay dead serious, making Loki's nerves eat him up.

"Took you long enough," you grin and bring them down to a kiss.

It's nice and warm and slow, one devouring the other while also offering the best you can. Then, a salty taste makes you break the contact and cup Loki's face.

"Love, why are you crying?" you whisper, wiping away the thin paths the tears have crossed. He hasn't even noticed he's been crying.

"You can't imagine how happy you make me… I love you," they whisper.

You barely have time to say anything before he pulls you into the tightest hug possible, tears streaming down to your shirt and those three words coming out of their lips again and again like a prayer.

Loki has no idea how many lifetimes he washed off within just one hug, but a weight they never noticed they carried was gone when you break the embrace and stare deep into his now puffy eyes.

"I love you too,"

She's gonna save me, call me baby / Run her hands through my hair

"I'm telling you, you have to be more careful in the missions. Yes, you are a God, but don't be so reckless," you groan as you rinse them with water and try to remove the blood and dirt from their hair.

Just the right amount of strikes, and he now can't lift his hands enough to wash his own hair. If you weren't so good at it, they would refuse to stoop so low.

"It was supposed to be abandoned. How would I know that it wasn't? I'm a God, not a prophet," he sighs, holding his sides. Even talking is making their scattered ribs pierce him… "And I did call you to save my arse, that's the exact opposite of recklessness,"

"If you say so. But what will I do if one day my baby comes home with something more than a wretched ribcage?" you laugh.

They try to answer but both the pain and the pleasure from your fingers on his hair, massaging his scalp with shampoo, are making his tongue a knot and his throat release one moan of pleasure after another.

She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily / Better yet, she wouldn't care

You walk through broken mirrors and scattered furniture, reached out to Loki, who's hiding their head between their knees.

You don't say anything, you just play with his hair. It's cold, much colder than usually. But you don't care.

"Leave, please. You'll get hurt," their voice is growly from the smoking but weak.

"Forget it. I'm not leaving you alone in this state," you declare matter–of–factly. A sound comes out of his throat, something between a chuckle and a cough.

They snap their head up, blue and scarred cheeks wet with tears and flaming red eyes with blue veins all over them drilling holes in you. "Do you dare say this in my true face? Declare that you care about a monster?" He spits, lips shaking as they try to hold back another crying fit.

You face stone, you grib his cheeks to stop them from breaking eye contact. "I am not leaving you alone like this, because I care about you and I love you. And, I don't give a fuck what others have made you think of yourself, you're anything but a monster," you keep your voice steady, trying to physically pin those words in his mind.

They sigh and lean against your hands, eyes closed and breaths slow as tears start rolling down his cheeks again. They turn to kiss your palm, now the rest of his body relaxing and hands bringing you close to a hug. "Thank you," they breathe out against you, the weakest of smiles forming slowly.

We'll steal a Lexus, be detectives / Ride 'round picking up clues

"Feet off or I'll chop them off and put them in the truck," you snap, eyes on the road as you try to find a place to park.

"Relax, it's not ours," Loki brushes off the threat. You sigh and park the car among some trees on the edge of the road, hoping no one will see it. He tries to mask it, like always, but you can see how the pain is making their features harsh.

"You can drop some spells, we're well hidden," you point out, watching as the pale skin starts melting and dark azure replaces it. Your skin crawls, you don't know if it's the cold or the awe. Loki breathes out, head resting back on the seat. "I didn't know the illusion is so painful," you think out loud.

"When running so low on rest, everything is painful. Now, where are those files…" they mutter and turn around, searching for the yellow case in the back seat. "Here. Do you have any idea?" he asks, giving you the file.

"I'll probably find something to milk. Now get that rest before you pass out on the field," you glare at them with that Look. He grins and nods before laying against the window, a thin layer of frost already forming.

Then, they start laughing.

"What's so funny?" you ask, not looking up from the report you're reading.

"Before I even talked to you, I had the honeymoon trip already planned in my brain, with too many versions to count. This wasn't even on the list," he straightens up and smiles. You laugh too.

"Well, it's not exactly as bad as you make it sound,"

"Norns, are your standards so low or are you so disappointed in me?" They raise one eyebrow.

"Neither, love. Now get rest before I have to knock you out," you smile through threatening him.

"Kinky, might try it later," they wink and lay back down, his breathing deepening some minutes afterwards.

We'll name our children Jackie and Wilson / Raise 'em on rhythm and blues

You're laying against them, smiling like an idiot as he runs a hand on your stomach and feeling this new anomaly.

"Are you sure?" you ask, watching a small wrinkle from between their brows.

"Yes. Two of them. Perhaps boys but I can't tell yet," he whispers, hand still resting there even though the spell is over.

"Twins… we will become parents," you smile, breathing out and laying against their shoulders.

Loki calls your name. You turn around and he rests his forehead against your own. "I love you so much, you know that? All three of you," they grin. You chuckle and close your eyes, accepting the kiss that's definitely coming.

"You know, we'll have to name them something," you point out after they break the kiss.

"Narfi and Vali," he's… quite fast on picking up the name.

"No way,"

"Why?"

You freeze. "It's silly…" you mutter.

They cup your face, glowing green eyes on yours. "It's bothering you,"

"It's the myth… how Narfi and Vali suffered in the myth because of your… because of Loki's mistakes… I don't want this to happen to the little guys," you sigh.

"Then, do you have to suggest another name while I'm trying to think of a second choice?" he smiles.

"It's even more silly," you giggle.

"At least it won't be your mythological dead kids,"

You take a deep breath. "Jackie and Wilson, from the song," you are ready to hear them laughing at you for the suggestion. But he just smiles.

"Jackie and Wilson…"

Cut clean from the dream that night, let my mind reset / Looking up from a cigarette, she's already left

Loki has no idea how long they've been staring blankly at the ashtray, the suit in front of him mocking him.

It's maybe the first time they're so hesitant about wearing all black.

It was supposed to be a small mission, nothing dangerous. You were supposed to be back, safe, within an hour.

You were supposed to raise your sons and retire in that castle in the middle of the forest.

Why was he so foolish to believe that he deserves a happy ending?

"You have to collect yourself. You have to say the farewell, a fucking thank you for all you've got from it, you coward!" they spit at the mirror opposite to them, hand tensing and breaking the cigarette in half.

A deep breath, in and out, a tight squeeze on the wedding ring hanging from his neck, and they stand up to put the damn suit on.

I start digging up the yard for what's left of me in our little vignette / For whatever poor soul is coming next

The funeral is over, the farewell has been said. But there's a small dinner coming afterwards.

Out of all the public appearances, this is by far the worse. Malevolence is something Loki has learned how to deal with a long time ago. But these eyes of pity are unbearable.

The strangers, probably reporters or Stark's acquaintances, coming to express their "condolences" are at least few enough to allow Loki to slip away to the bathroom.

He sits on the cold floor, this numbness drowning him. They hoped you had made it go away, but you just suppressed it. He wants to cry, to scream, to beg to whatever cruel Deity did this to bring you back. But their mind cannot give the order.

He takes your phone out, opening the music app and wearing your earphones. They press play on the last song you listened to, only to hear some familiar chords echo from the small device.

You were muttering this song all the time since you found out about the pregnancy, it's no wonder it's the last tune you listened to. But the upbringing melody of the song and the dark emptiness in Loki's heart are painfully opposite.

He sits there and listens to the whole song in silence, trying to milk some happiness out of it.

But they only manage to whisper along the last two lines, or an alteration of them. Just before he starts weeping at the tile floor until Thor finds him.

"We would name our children Jackie and Wilson, Raise 'em on rhythm and blues,"

[uwurakax]

teardrops on my guitar ♡

pairing: semi x f!reader ♡

genre: angsty // unrequited love // pining ♡

summary: it was like the plot of any rom com; two kids, a boy and a girl who were best friends since childhood and inseparable. you fell in love with him, and maybe he could’ve loved you too. such a shame he grew feelings for someone else ♡

word count: 1.7k ♡

author’s note: i love the pretty setters so much why am i doing this t-t which one next? lolol jk - not proofread sry. also wtf tryna write this on the train then some nub slams into my seat from behind dude u wot ♡

♡ (inspired by teardrops on my guitar by taylor swift) ♡

“What’s this?”

“A flower duh”

“But.. why...?”

“My dad gives them to my mum. He says he loves her after”

“But why are you giving it to me?”

“Because we love each other right?”

“Yeah”

“And one day we’ll get married and stuff”

“Hahaha, yeah! And then you give me all the flowers!”

A sweet memory, one from many years prior had always managed to pop into your mind at the most random times. You wished it didn’t, an adorable and innocent reminiscence had no place here, only offering confusion and complications. Semi Eita is your best friend, you wouldn’t let your feelings ruin your friendship with him.

Sometimes you’d wonder what would happen if you did actually confess to him. Wondering if he actually did remember the childish promise the two of you made. Neither of you had known of the power and meaning of the words uttered between you at barely 6 years old. The innocence of it all turned into something different.

Something deeper.

You also wondered if he would’ve looked at her. It was way too easy to fall into the mindset of ‘if I had told him, would he have looked at me the way he does her?’. ‘If I said my feelings sooner, could he have held me the same?’.

If I had told Semi I loved him, would he kiss me like that too?

There was way too many ifs going through your head, it was a marvel you could concentrate on anything else. At least during these moments your heart had some reprieve, a minuscule break of the pain you had to endure everyday you saw him with her.

Everyday during lunch, she sat next to him. The couple sitting opposite you at the table and you absolutely loathed it. It didn’t seem fair, the two of them being all lovey dovey, the sight of a picture perfect couple. Flaunting the perfect love they shared to anyone and everyone who saw. It just sucked that you were in the front row.

Everyday at practice she was there, cheering on Semi. Her yells and squeals echoing against the court walls. They easily overshadowed your silent ones. She’d jump excitedly next to you, clapping and screaming for the team. If you squinted, you could’ve pretended that the warm smile he threw over at the both of you was for you only.

You knew better though. Knew that any affection of love held was hers, and only hers. Knew the cheeky winks and blown kisses were reserved only for her. Knew that the uncontrollable feelings you felt for your best friend would never be reciprocated.

For only small moments, you could delude yourself into believing that Semi Eita had loved you the way you loved him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Jogging towards you, you handed Semi his water bottle, a small smile tugging on your lips. He wasn’t looking at you though. Honestly he never looked at you anymore, not with her around. Even when she wasn’t his eyes scanned for her. Like nothing else even mattered as long as she was there.

You had to hold back a sigh, quietly watching as he stared at her with such loving eyes. You wanted to hate it. Absolutely despise the way he looked at her, but you couldn’t. He looked so happy. Like a scene from a romance movie, he eyed her as if she was the sun, and everything just revolved around her. The whole nine yards of feeling goosebumps and a quickening heartbeat, Semi felt it all.

You wondered if she even knew the adoration he held for her. Despite her back being turned, despite the fact that she was engaged in conversation with someone else, Semi was undeniably smitten.

“You know, I think she’s the one” Semi whispered to you. This was the harsh reality of it all. No matter how much you wished, Semi Eita just wasn’t meant for you.

“You think so?” You tried to hide your exhaustion, numbness taking over your body. You could still feel the pinpricks of heartache however, no matter how much you tried to push it down. And sooner or later, it would overwhelm you until you buried your face into your pillow and cried til you fell asleep. That was a problem for future you though.

“Yeah, I do” he smiled wistfully at her, your heart fracturing little by little. You knew that look all too well. The look of longing, admiration and pure love. Recognised it all to well, because it was the way you looked at him. In class, at lunch and during practice. Whenever he wasn’t looking, you’d lower your wall by the tiniest bit.

You weren’t unknown to the fact that she looked at him exactly the same way too.

Whenever he was concentrating on his work, his serves or chatting with his friends, she’d gaze at him with the same affection that was unknown to Semi himself. It wasn’t hard to be envious. Not just because you were in love with Semi too, but to find something so special was so incredibly rare.

“I’m really happy for you Semi, I’m glad you found her.” You looked away, not wanting Semi to see your face. Sure that if he saw your eyes, he’d see the heartbreak swimming beneath the glistening tears that had just barely started to form.

“Semi!” You heard her squeal, bouncing her way to the both of you and throwing herself in his arms. It truly was unfair how they seemed to meld together so well. Like ying and yang, the moon and tides. You couldn’t have one without the other, so complimentary in existence.

You tuned them out, not wishing to subject yourself to anymore heartache for the day.

“You should join us Y/N! We don’t hang out much and I wanna get to know Semi’s best friend more” she smiled. Her wonderfully radiant smile beamed at you. Pearly whites shining under the lights, it was like God himself blessed her, an invisible spotlight on her at all times. Guess God really did have favourites, and she was impeccable.

“Ah I’d love to but I really have to get this homework done or I never will. Plus don’t wanna intrude” you shyly said. You didn’t know how much you would’ve been able to take.

“Alright fine but next time! Gotta promise ‘kay?” She giggled and snuggled up to Semi’s side.

“Of course, it’s a promise”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You were slow packing up your books and pens, the lunch bell normally alerting your body to speed your way to your lunch table to prolong the little break you did get.

When you finally did make it to your friends, you noticed Semi hadn’t arrived yet, and the only open seat was next to her. With a quiet sigh, you reluctantly sat down.

Opening your school bought bento, you picked at the egg, too exhausted from everything and just not being in the mood to eat.

“Y/N, you alright?” Her super sweet and feminine voice rang in your ear. Honestly, it was just grating to you now. You plastered on a fake smile.

“Yeah, sorry just super tired” you continued to stare at your food, probably looking like you hated the mix of meat and vegetables. Just for today, you didn’t want to pretend to be okay. Pretending that you were happy for your best friend. Pretending that you weren’t in love with him. Pretending that you didn’t hate his girl even though she did nothing to warrant any form of hatred from you.

“Guess who!” You saw Semi over your shoulder, playfully covering her eyes and hiding one arm behind is back. She giggled out his name, pulling his arm off and giving him a quick peck. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes, their public display of affection eating away at you, and making you more infuriated and annoyed.

Semi pulled a beautiful bouquet from his back and handed them to her, her eyes widening in surprise.

Flowers huh?

“Wow Semi, these are gorgeous! But you didn’t have to..” she stared starstruck, unable to look away at the assortment of flora. Pinks, reds and whites decorated the bouquet, and were wrapped in a gorgeous purple cellophane.

“I know, I wanted to. You do give flowers to the person you like right?”

And just like that, your heart completely shattered.

She gave Semi another peck, thanking him for the thoughtful gesture.

You quickly arose from your seat, throwing your napkin and chopsticks into your bento, packing it up and quietly leaving the table.

“Hey, where are you going?” Semi called out to you, both of them looking at you curiously.

“Sorry, just need to go to the bathroom real quick” and you scurried off, throwing away your barely eaten meal with a bit more force than necessary.

When you finally made it to the bathrooms, you slammed the door and leaned your back against it. You started to inhale deeply, the once cute memory that brought you happiness now only gave you pain. You pulled the toilet lid down and sat, not caring if it wasn’t as hygienic as it should’ve been.

Curling your knees into your chest, you buried your face in them and let out the anguish and hurt that had been waiting to spill over. The hot burning tears that you only had yourself to blame for, because you were the idiot who fell in love with their best friend.

You cried until your eyes felt swollen and heavy, the constant friction of repeated rubs on the sleeve of your blazer added to the redness in your eyes. You looked down at your black polished school shoes, unaware of how much time had actually passed. It didn’t matter anyway.

Steadily, you got up from the seat. Once you left this bathroom stall, you’d never cry over Semi Eita ever again. You’d be the best friend, the one who would always be happy for him; and you wouldn’t fake it this time. You’d actively and attentively listen to him about his relationship, no longer going to feel bitter. You’d smile and cheer, and be the most supportive you could be, how you should be. They deserved that.

You’d let Semi go.

Perhaps tonight, with the newly made promises to yourself, you’d finally be able to get some sleep.

[pyroclaststan]

CW: body horror, gore, graphic depictions of injuries, Nanosurge event

The two of you had been running and you made it so far—you were going to get away, you were going to make it, but then Syrah started screaming.

She hit the ground flailing, howling, peeling apart. It was like her skin was disappearing from her limbs, and she kept yelling, pieces of her mouth starting to disappear, too.

There are no words you could ever use to describe the noise of someone gargling on blood and bile and those things as they ate through her lungs and chest and throat.

To describe the sight of your lifelong best friend sloughing apart and disappearing before your very eyes as she tries to scream and call out, only to be unmade.

In her final throws she reached out for you.

It hurt.

Now it feels like burning, and stinging, and itching all at once.

You cannot look away as the horror settles into you, freezing you in place. You watch as your left leg peeled, layer by layer, and eaten like the many before you—like the many around you.

It hurts, but you cannot scream, you cannot sob: you saw how they got into your best friend’s mouth that way. It ended quicker for her than the others but you do not want an end at all.

You kick the remnants of your leg in futility, as if to shake them off with sheer willpower as they eat their way closer. It’s all you can do. The swarm on you is multiplying; you see them like a hive of ants, now beginning to eat away at your fingers.

No one will be coming for you.

There is a chorus of screams a few yards away.

“NO!” a bloodcurdling howl of a voice echoes out.

It is the wretched, horrible scream of someone desperate out there, and your head whips around for the source despite your situation. Someone is close enough that they might see you—you might live.

Further across the field three—no, a body, just two—of the Rangers are gathered. One of them is actually not a Ranger at all but that vigilante you’ve seen, Sidestep, who is standing over the writhing form of Marshal Charge, hands out.

In the fields around you, you see the swarms of those creatures coalesce and gather, all stopping mid air before moving towards Sidestep, floating up and over their head like a rippling ball of shimmering black water. A river Styx of souless little creatures.

Looking down you realise that your leg is no longer being flayed by the microscopic monsters, flesh and bone gone like it was never there; your hands shake as you desperately peel off your shirt to tie around the stump, hoping through your panic it stems the bleeding as your adrenaline fades. You’ve never done anything like this before—your hands are shaking awfully. Blood loss and possible shock making you run cold.

In the few minutes more that follow the pause of those things, as you clutch what’s left of you, you hear more screams and the sounds of heavy footsteps: everyone left is being evacuated and before you know it Charge himself is beside you, scooping you into his arms before sprinting along with the crowds of survivors as if he weren’t screaming earlier. You were just close enough that he saw you; you clench his shoulders with your tremoring hands, unable to stop the tears that pour down your sweating skin. You’ve never known death this closely. You don’t know if your fear or relief is greater.

Surrounding the two of you are the desperate, the pleading, the injured, but you cannot tear your eyes away from their target to see all of them. Your hearing is muffled by a ringing of tinnitus, even as Charge hands you over to another person before running back to save others struggling out there. As all the heroes get to work while they have this new advantage.

You can’t stop watching Sidestep.

They stand there, alone, hands held to the sky as if to hold a barrier around the writhing mass of murderers. You think of the class last week: the Titan Atlas holding up the heavens. You see the way their arms and legs shake, muscles sure to be straining, their heavy breaths under their super-suit. There is no dramatic lighting or music to highlight their effort, this dire situation is all too real. They’re too close to those swarms but they don’t budge an inch, a hand coming to their head as they let out a bellow of pain.

The man holding you is trying to flee with you, but you can’t stop twisting in his arms—you need to see this: you need to witness what Sidestep is doing, what Sidestep has done. Someone needs to remember that they are alone amongst those… demons.

Others are watching too, crying, and after some time when Sidestep’s knee buckles and their hands fall to brace themself the entire crowd flinches as one. The swarm wavers looking like they might escape and spread again, but Sidestep’s hand quickly rises back up and they fall back into their synchronised swim. The terror is palpable, the air is thick, the smells of the dead nauseating in the breeze, but you all cannot stop watching. Even the reporters are keeping a silent vigil, unable to believe any of this.

A hero is saving you.

Time passes and you’ve all huddled together, taking care of each other, locating family, slipping out silent prayers. A nurse who was among the survivors has helped you with your leg so far: medical should be arriving soon, you won’t be saving that leg. You might have lost too much blood, or you will. She’s just waiting for the shock to set it now, holding your hand so you’re not alone through it.

But you don’t care because out there so many have lost more than you. Others are still fighting so you all don’t lose more, even now. And one is stemming the tide.

Charge is behind Sidestep as they keep on despite being brought to their knees and struggling, posted like a sentry but gripping his own arm, and you can almost make out the look of abject horror on his face as he watches the swarm hovering before them; small flickers of static arcs when the hive moves or breaks synchronisation.

Medical has arrived and you are being carted off to a rescue vehicle while containment is still on the way, but you still don’t look away—you can’t look away. It has been hours and they are shaking and they are struggling but they are holding. You burn that sight into the back of your head before the ambulance doors close. Your hero.

Your dream always ends there: you were gone before they’d collapsed. Before it was over.

———

Today is the anniversary of that awful day; the persistent nightmare that haunts even your days through all the scars. It’s hard to go outside most days, hard to watch the news and catch a glimpse of that silver woman that scares you so much. It’s hard to do much of anything that isn’t sitting locked in your workspace, building, tinkering, or fixing. But this day is an exception to all those great fears.

You stop by the florist with the modded hand: she remembers the day as well as you, sometimes the two of you talk about it while you work on her hand. She’s bundling up Syrah’s yearly bouquet, handpicking each flower by some meanings you’ve never gotten around to learning about them, stopping only to help a haggard looking man she also seems to know well with a bundle of white chrysanthemums. You can smell the alcohol on him from here, but that’s none of your business: today is a hard day for more people than you and Maritsa.

She tells you to give her love to your old friend; she never goes herself, no matter how much time passes. She lost too much to that nightmare—a wife, two kids, some family.

Your eyes linger on one of the few white chrysanthemums that man left behind, scratching the scar tissue buildup on your finger’s skin weave, something telling you to pick one of those up, too. Her garden hardy mums cost a lot but you know anything she grows in her greenhouse is well worth the price.

Heading out with your newspaper bouquet in hand, you fall into step with the Los Diablos crowds, easily able to pick out who in the crowd is headed the same way as you. You can see it in their heavy steps and weighted shoulders and you wonder if you show it, too.

The memorial isn’t a plot of headstones—too many were lost for that—but instead a large stone and steel wall, covered from one end to another with names and birthdays of victims. Flowers, candles, teddy bears, liquor, and photos rest on the ground here every year, and every year the crowd and offerings grow smaller. Everyone eager to forget.

You take your place in front of Syrah’s name, fingers sliding quietly against the stone that’s too cold for having sat in Diablos’ heat as long as it has. To your right you see Desiderio placing his usual marigolds—also from Maritsa’s—against the stone, then falling into prayers as he always does. The flowers in your hands begin to feel too heavy so you set them down, quietly sit in prayer with Desi, and hold each other once the tears that always come arrive.

It’s a small, distant family you’ve made out of this place and the only other people who could understand your loss; no matter how much time passes between gatherings you all know you have each other. But you cannot stay all day, lost in the memories: you have one more important stop to make.

At the gates of your destination a man in a grey hoodie and a larger man in a blue one passes you, and once again you are hit by a wave of booze. Looking after them, you notice the back of the smaller, hunched over one: it’s that man again, being escorted by someone you hope is his friend. A few moments more and you draw in a deep breathe, gathering resolve before heading in.

So here you are at yet another memorial. Not the memorial to that scarred, barren earth you pointedly avoid looking at but the memorial to the hero you’d lost, gone after another even that shook the city to its core before they ended it. The hero this entire city lost. The dark headstone that’s all that’s left of Sidestep.

The black and teal hoodie you’ve worn in over the years always feel likes the only thing appropriate to wear as you sit here, sitting before the looming stone in your usual spot, staring at the bundle of white flowers and the half-full beer can beside it. Chrysanthemums bundled up with Maritsa’s trademark twine. A smaller bunch of white lilies next to it, from somewhere else. That man’s modded friend maybe; you know the signs like you know the smell of the dead. All too well.

You scratch the phantom itch crawling along the former calf and thigh of your modded leg, unable to chase away the ghost of a life past. Unable to turn back the clock. Unable to say thank you.

You set your flowers down next to that man’s, hoping that he found peace in his visit here like you do. Hoping that someone’s there to help him through that event and its scars, too. You really hope that was a friend.

The picture of your masked hero is peeling from all the rain and heat, the flowers and offerings dwindling as folks try to forget those terrible events, but you remain. Year after year.

Living is the only thanks you can give them.

[flowerfan2]

A story about a reunion, and everything that happens afterwards.

Chapter 16/20 - Read on A03 here.

Patrick reads the email over again, just to make sure, then he runs out into the living room to tell David.

“I did it.”

David looks up from his spot on the couch, his black-framed glasses perched on his nose.  They’ve had a very sleepy Sunday morning, followed by a big breakfast of bacon and omelets, and David still hasn’t gotten around to putting in his contacts.  Patrick loves him like this.

“What did you do?”  David rises up from the couch, all grace and designer loungewear, and comes over to Patrick.

“I got a job.”  Patrick isn’t sure if what he is feeling is relief, excitement, or equal parts of both, but it feels amazing.

David smiles at him and pecks him on the cheek.  “Of course you did.”  He sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him.  “Sit down and tell me about it.”

“It’s just a consulting position, bookkeeping mostly, but for a company that works with start-ups and young entrepreneurs.  And it’s decent pay, more than I was expecting for this kind of thing.”

“That’s great,” David says.  “When do you start?”

“They want me right away.”  Patrick can feel his smile stretching his cheeks.  It’s the first time he’s felt anything but useless in so long, the way the people at this firm seemed to understand what he could bring to the table.  Patrick accepts another kiss from David, and then pops back up off the couch.  “I’m gonna call my parents.”

He goes into the bedroom and talks to his mom, then his dad, and then the conversation somehow gets derailed into a debate on whether buying new furniture for the lanai right now is a good idea or if they should stick with what they have for the time being.  Patrick kind of likes the idea of making David go shopping for patio furniture with him, so he’s voting for the former.  Finally they circle back to his job, his parents congratulate him again, and he gets off the phone.

He’s headed back to the living room, but pauses when he sees David in the guest room.  David has a black leather bag open on the bed and his sweaters folded in careful piles next to it.  Patrick’s stomach drops.

“David?  What – what are you doing?”  

David looks up.  He’s dressed in his favorite armor, glasses discarded in favor of contacts, a fuzzy black sweater over the black jeans with the rips in the knees.  “You said you were starting right away.  You didn’t say where, but I’m assuming Toronto-”

“Toronto?  Why would you assume Toronto?”

David’s face shutters further, and he turns back to his bag.  “I know I said I’d go anywhere with you, but I thought you might at least give me a heads up, discuss it a little bit, especially if it’s not Toronto.  I do have to deal with my apartment there at some point.”  David turns towards him, a hand on his hip.  “Do you even still want me to come with you?”

Patrick doesn’t know how this could have gone so horribly wrong, and he crosses to David, grabbing him by the shoulders.  “Stop packing.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?”  David’s voice is rising, and Patrick shakes his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.  We’re not going anywhere, not until we both decide we want to.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“David, we’re not going anywhere.  I don’t have to <i>go</i> anywhere.  It’s a remote job.”

David stares at Patrick, and Patrick watches as he mentally replays the conversation they’ve had so far.  “You aren’t leaving?”

“No.”  Patrick sits down on the bed, David frowning at him as he knocks over a pile of sweaters, but sits down next to him anyway.  “It’s remote, part-time.  A consulting gig.  Varied schedule, but they think it’ll be about 20-25 hours a week, depending in part on how much their clients like me, and how well I can add value.  I may need to go to the Toronto office a few times a year, for meetings or something.  But I’m doing the job from home – from here, or wherever.”

David turns away, picking up his off-white hoodie and pretending to refold it, even though Patrick can tell he just needs something to do with his hands.  “You should have told me that,” David says, embarrassed.

“I know.  I’m sorry, I just got so excited.”  Patrick leans into David, rubbing a hand on his back.  “I’m sorry,” he says again, letting it sink in, letting David get his balance.  “I wouldn’t make any plans for us without talking it over with you.  I promise I wouldn’t.  My plans wouldn’t be any good without you.”

David’s eyes flicker to his and away, his hands still wrapped in the halfway folded sweater.  

“It’s true, David.”  Patrick puts his free hand on top of David’s, calming their restless movement.  “I don’t want any plans without you in them.  I haven’t even accepted the offer yet.”

“You haven’t?”  David turns back, searching his face.

“Nope.  I told them I had to talk it over with my boyfriend.”  Patrick’s taking a risk, throwing that word out there.  But David had done it first last time, and he doesn’t think there’s really any question that it applies.  He’s sort of glad that he hasn’t used it yet; there’s more of an impact now, when David clearly needs it.

David’s eyes go wide.  “You did?”

“I did.  So – what do you think?”

David shifts, and his demeanor softens, his walls coming back down.  “I think your <i>boyfriend</i> needs to know more.”  There’s a smile hidden in his cheek, an agreement.  Patrick wants to cheer.  David holds his gaze, and his smile escapes, mirroring Patrick’s own.  “And then you probably need to ask for more money.  There’s nothing wrong with asking for what you deserve.”

“You don’t even know what they offered me.”

“Whatever they offered, you’re worth more.”

******

Patrick gets up earlier than normal a few days later and shaves carefully, examining his face closely in the mirror.  He doesn’t look like someone who hasn’t worked in months.  He just looks like himself.  And when he presents himself to David for approval, David’s smile courses through his lips and into his cheeks, his hands dancing to Patrick’s shoulders, smoothing down the thin fabric of his favorite purple dress shirt.  He’s ready.

They set up an office of sorts for Patrick in the guest bedroom, shifting the bed to one side, moving a dresser out of the room and into the hallway, and arranging a table by the window.  Patrick decides that one of the dining table chairs will work for the time being, and David fusses with the curtains, concerned that the glare will make it hard to see his laptop screen.

Finally Patrick ushers David out of the guest room and logs in to a Zoom meeting for orientation.  It’s boring as hell, but he doesn’t complain.

It’s not as if he thought he was unemployable, it’s just that after his last job imploded so strangely, he wasn’t sure what it would be like to be an employee again.  And didn’t know if anyone would give him a chance to find out.  Turns out, Alexis was not only good at papering over his employment blips, she was awesome at pep talks and interview practice.  He makes a note to himself to call her soon and thank her.

That night they make sandwiches and eat them on the lanai.  It’s a little cool for it, but it still feels nice to be outside.  Patrick had his parents send him down some more clothes, but David scoffed at the idea of wearing a jacket.  Instead he’s got a throw blanket draped around his shoulders, a giant turquoise fleece wrap that clashes terribly with his otherwise neutral palette.

They get a series of texts from Stevie, photos of the house she’s buying in Schitt’s Creek.  It’s a three-bedroom ranch on a decent sized lot.  The interior looks like it hasn’t been updated in decades, with a pink bathroom and horrendous wallpaper in the bedrooms, but Stevie’s had plenty of experience updating décor at this point.

David teases her for a few minutes, riffing on how unbelievable it is that she’s adult enough to be a homeowner, but his heart doesn’t seem in it.  Patrick doesn’t tell him how Stevie has been saving for years, every bonus and raise going into an account for a down-payment.  

After their chat with Stevie, David seems out of sorts, and Patrick isn’t sure what to do about it.  After they’ve cleaned up from dinner, he suggests they play a game.

David gives him a frowny look, and Patrick immediately knows what he’s thinking.  Neither of them are in the mood for sex.  “Not that kind of game.  A card game, or a board game.”

David perks up at this, then deflates.  “We don’t have the right number of people for a board game.”

“I bet we can find something the two of us can play.  My parents have a pile of games in the hall closet.”

They pull down the basket of games from the shelf above the laundry machine, and David peers inside.  “Did they get these from a yard sale or something?”

There’s a worn box that contains a checkerboard, with both checkers and chess inside, a Connect Four game, a few decks of cards, and Uno.

“I think my aunt sent them down.”  Patrick takes out the Uno deck.  “How about this?”

David takes the whole basket into the living room and sets it on the coffee table.  He takes out the Connect Four game and pulls out the plastic frame, dropping a round tile into it.  “I had this game,” he says thoughtfully.

“I think everyone had that game.”

David dumps out the rest of the pieces, and a greeting card falls out.  It’s got a drawing of a bouquet of flowers on the front, with “Get Well Soon” in big letters.  “What’s this?”  David opens it and reads out loud.  “Marcy – hope this brings a little bit of fun to your day.  You’re in our prayers.  Love Susie and Pete.”

Patrick takes the card and reads it, his mind flashing back to last spring, flying down to see his parents.  His dad breaking down in tears on the car ride from the airport.  His mother telling him not to worry.

“Patrick?  Patrick, honey, what’s going on?”

David has his arm around him, and he’s pressed close to him on the couch.  Patrick brushes away the wetness on his cheeks, and David pulls him into a hug.  “Patrick, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

David glares at him.

“I mean, it turned out to be nothing.”  Patrick shakes himself and clears his throat.  “My mom had a cancer scare last spring.  They found a tumor in her breast.  But it was benign.”

“<i>This</i> doesn’t sound like it was benign.”  David waves the card at him.  “People don’t say <i>you’re in our prayers</I> when it’s benign.”

“She had a bad reaction to one of the drugs, during the surgery, and took a little while to recover.  She was laid up for a while, and pretty miserable.  But it wasn’t cancer.”

David’s eyes are wet, and he looks like he’s going to cry, too.  “She’s okay now?”

“She’s okay.”  Patrick leans against David, snuggling into his arms, and they both breathe together for a long moment.  “Oh god, I think that’s why I freaked out in the doctor’s office.”

David shifts to look at him.  “What do you mean?”

“As soon as I heard, I flew down here.  I went with my mom and dad to the doctor’s visits before her surgery.  I couldn’t stay long afterwards, I had to get back to work, but…” Patrick’s throat gets tight, remembering.  “It was awful.  We were all so frightened.”

David presses Patrick’s head against his own, his large hand against Patrick’s scalp warm and comforting.  Patrick can feel David’s chest rising and falling.  David’s taking deep breaths, he can tell, trying to stay calm.

“You said this happened last spring?” David says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“When things started to go wrong for you at work.”

Patrick tenses.  “My mom was in the hospital.  I think it’s understandable that I was having trouble focusing.”

“No, honey, of course.  That’s not what I meant.  Of course it is.  It’s just – you didn’t mention that before.  That being worried about your mom is what started to get you down.”

Patrick feels like he’s a cartoon character with a light bulb flashing over his head.  Could it be that simple?  Was worrying about his mom’s health, on top of his general dissatisfaction with where he had ended up in life, what pushed him over the edge into depression?  

David tightens his arm around Patrick’s shoulder.  “I’m so sorry, Patrick.  That that happened to your family.  It must have been a very scary thing to deal with.”

“It really was.”

“I’m so glad she’s okay.”

Patrick turns and buries his face in David’s neck.  “Me too.”

That night, after David falls asleep, Patrick turns to the internet.  He hadn’t wanted to do this before.  He’s not sure why, although he thinks it has a lot to do with denial.  But he can’t stop thinking about his mom, and how hard it had hit him when she was sick.  Gritting his teeth, he starts googling causes of depression.  Upsetting or stressful life events.  Death or illness in the family.  Job-related worries.  Huh.  Maybe he had good reason to feel like things were falling apart.  Maybe that’s why he lost the ability to care about his job.  Maybe he’s not doomed to fail at his new one, too.

Patrick scrolls to the email from the therapist he’s been talking to.  So far, it’s just been a few emails and a brief phone call, an introduction, to see if she seemed like a good fit.  She’s based out of Toronto, but has many patients that she counsels remotely, on Facetime or Zoom, and comes highly recommended.  With shaking hands, he types out a message, suggesting that they schedule a session soon.  “I think it started last spring…”

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Dealing with Devils-- Damien/Darkiplier x Reader

Prompt: I was inspired to write this when I saw this comic panel on Pinterest!

Warnings: light language

Word Count; 2k

Notes; I wrote this on impulse after rewatching Who Killed Markiplier? and Damien lol (gif creds)

    You grimaced at the sunlight shining through the window. The cottage's lack of curtains only bothered you in the morning. Sure, sunrises were beautiful, but they were a pain in the ass when you desperately wanted to sleep in. A shiver ran through your body as your feet hit the cold floor. Spring was on its way. The snow was beginning to yield to grass and budding flowers, but the cold was still strong enough to seep into your bones. Wrapping a blanket around your shoulders, you shuffled over to the fireplace. You wrinkled your nose at the lack of kindling. There goes any hope of a fire this morning. Not wanting to spend another moment in the cold home, you begrudgingly pulled multiple layers of clothing out of the closet to prepare yourself for the day. You turned to the large mirror hanging on the wall, carefully observing your reflection. It was hard to see small details because of the cracks that webbed from its center. When you first moved into the cottage, Damien told you to get rid of it, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

    A grin found its way across your face as the memories of your move resurfaced. Damien had insisted on helping, even though you hardly had any belongings to bring into your new home. Just some clothes, toiletry items, and... the mirror. Your brows furrowed. Where did it come from, anyway? You couldn't quite remember buying the mirror, but you felt such an attachment to it. Maybe it was an heirloom? If it was, why would Damien tell you to throw it away? A strange sensation began to form in the back of your mind. It felt as if static electricity was crawling across your brain. You leaned closer to the mirror. Your reflection seemed to shift out of focus the longer you stared at it. Was it your eyes playing tricks on you? You lifted a hand, carefully reaching towards the mirror, only to freeze before you had a chance to touch it. A sharp ring ripped through your eardrums, causing you to take a step back. You looked forward and realized that your entire reflection had changed. Your skin was a muddled gray color, and your eyes were filled with a lifeless black void. Horror filled every nerve in your body. Something was terribly wrong with this place.

    A sudden commotion outside drew your attention away from your reflection. Desperate for an excuse to leave, you lunged at the door. A magpie sat on your porch, squawking up a storm. You frowned at the creature. I probably forgot to fill the bird-feeder again, you thought. Your shoulders dipped as you began to relax. Glancing over your shoulder, you surveyed the interior of your home. What were you getting so worked up about, again? Your eyes landed on the dark fireplace. Right, no kindling. You pulled the door, making sure it was secure before stepping off the porch. On your way to the shed, you checked the bird-feeder. You raised a brow. It was still full. Maybe the bird was freaking out about something else. You just hoped it would be quiet, wherever the thing went.

    You made your way to the shed. There was an overhang that allowed you to store firewood outside without you having to worry about it getting wet. You stopped a few feet away from the shed and tilted your head to the side. You could've sworn there was a big lock on the door. No, you were //sure// there used to be a lock on it. Damien locked it when he was helping you move. You were never curious about going inside. He told you there was only old, rusty tools. You had no need for them, so you never bothered to try to get in. But now? The lock just disappeared. You hesitated to step forward, realizing that Damien disappeared too. He told you... no, he promised you that he would visit sometime. He said he would come back for you when he sorted out some business. What did he mean by that? You slowly pulled the door open. Creeping inside, you realized that Damien was right. For the most part, the shed was empty, other than the dust that occupied the shelves and some old gardening equipment piled in a wheelbarrow. Something towards the back of the shed caught your eye. A large sheet, stained from who knows how many years of exposure to the elements, covered something large. Sunlight poured in from the cobweb-covered window above it. It was almost as if it had a spotlight. You reached for the sheet, only to be distracted by squawking once more. You huffed and looked out of the dirty window, surprised to see that even more magpies had gathered in your yard. Your eyes darted back and forth between each one. Seven? Shaking your head, you returned your attention to the matters at hand. You pulled back the sheet to find an ornate desk. You ran a hand across the smooth surface. Unlike anything else in the shed, it withstood the passing of time. There wasn't a speck of dust. Your brows jumped when you noticed a folded piece of paper tucked away beneath an empty inkwell. You wasted no time in unfolding it, anxious to know its contents. A poem jotted down... in your handwriting. "One for sorrow," you muttered. It was a curious little thing. You had always appreciated poetry, but why did you decide to document an unsettling nursery rhyme?

    Taking a breath, you continued to sift through the desk. The first two drawers you searched were filled with legal documents. You could recall all of them. They were milestones from your career. From your first case as a fledgling lawyer, to the most recent one from your current position as District Attorney. Your heart fluttered for a moment. Why was it, again, that you stopped working? You pursed your lips and pressed on. Your ears started ringing when you grabbed the handle of the bottom drawer. You blinked a few times in an attempt to keep focused. There weren't many papers in this drawer. You picked up the small bundle and placed them on the desk, spreading them out. A fond smile graced your features as you picked up an old photograph. It was of you and Damien, attending a ball together. You couldn't help but laugh at the memory. It was the first time he had asked you out, and to say that he was a nervous wreck is an understatement. The man was flustered beyond belief, hardly able to get a word out! He ended up shoving a bouquet of flowers in your arms and holding the ball invitation for you to read. The next photograph displayed not only you and Damien but also Mark and Celine. Double date night, something that happened often back when you and Damien were a new couple. A droplet fell onto the photograph. You gently touched your cheek. You didn't even know you had started crying. Moving on to the next item, your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. It was an invitation to a party hosted at Markiplier Mansion. Memories came flooding back. Too much champagne, a night of gambling, and enough terror to last you three lifetimes. Your wild eyes desperately searched your surroundings. Where were you? The last thing you remember before moving here was... You glanced down at the drawer once more. This time, there was a revolver sitting at the bottom. Your ears rang violently as a searing pain exploded across your abdomen. You instinctively pressed a hand to your stomach, only to snatch it away when you felt something warm and sticky. Your hand came away red. The ground swayed beneath your feet, and the atmosphere around you darkened. It was getting hard to breathe. You tried to take a step back, but your knees buckled.

    Falling. That's the last thing you remember. The sensation of your insides going somersaults as you descended. You tried to scream, but no sound came out of your mouth. At least, not that you could hear. The only thing that filled your ears was that insufferable ringing. After what seemed like an eternity, you hit the ground with a violent crack. You kept your eyes closed, certain that you just broke every bone in your body. The ringing finally subsided, and you gathered up the courage to open your eyes. At first, you saw nothing but darkness. Then they appeared out of nowhere-- the magpies. Their white coloring contrasting the void like stars in the night sky. It gave you momentary comfort.

    "Why?" You sat up with a grimace, trying your best to fight back the pain. The cracked mirror stood tall before you. This time, it didn't show your reflection. You finally made it to your feet, despite feeling as if you had been put through a meat grinder, and approached the mirror. Your eyes stung with tears. It looked like Damien, but this... this person was different. His whole being was monochrome, and the eyes you used to get lost in no longer held any warmth. They were cold and calculating your every move. "Why did you wake up?" he clarified.

    "I don't... I don't understand." The man laughed. A sinister smile remaining on his face.

    "Don't you?" The ringing rose once more. You covered your ears, clenching your eyes shut. You cried out in pain and tried to will yourself to remain standing. The memories that had been locked away came barreling into your mind. Tears were flowing freely when you looked back up at the man. Horror filled your expression, causing him to look amused.

    "Where's Damien?" you whispered. His grin left as quick as it came. His face darkened. The air around him shifted as his muddled aura lashed out violently.

    "You were a lamb to the slaughter. Don't you get it? Celine would have left your soul to rot, but he gave you mercy. He gave you a chance at peace. He saved you from damnation!" You flenched as his voice rose, and you could've sworn that you saw new cracks forming in the mirror. "But he's not here to protect you anymore. I'm in control now." His eyes had gone completely black, and his unnerving smile had returned. You glanced upward, relieved that the magpies were still there. Your brows knit together for a moment. Your eyes dashed between them, counting just as you had done moments before. Eyes widening, you remembered the last verse of the poem. Thirteen, beware, it's the devil himself.

    "Who... no, what are you?" The man tilted his head, grin widening.

    "An entity of vengeance, created by Celine and Damien. Celine had the reigns for a while, then Damien took control. But they were weak. Their need for revenge combined with the darkness that consumes the Manor grew until they were simply... no longer a factor. I run things now. I don't necessarily have a name, though, I suppose you could call me Dark. I'd say it's quite fitting. Wouldn't you agree?" You swallowed thickly, nodding.

    The entity straightened his tie. "It's nice to know that we're on the same page. I understand why Damien was fond of you. You're... amusing, to say the least." He extended a hand towards the mirror. "I'm sure you're just itching to get out of that mirror, now that your memories have fully returned. I'll help you safely return in exchange for your companionship." Almost as if your body was acting on its own accord, you reached forward to take his hand. You stopped yourself, mere inches away from the mirror. Dark barked out a laugh. "Afraid to make a deal with the devil?"

~*~*~

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[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH39

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: NSFW, all the fluff, a healthy amount of angst

WC: 5025

A/N: THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE END. And what a wild ride it was. Thank you all for giving this story a chance. For reading it to the end. I’m not going to lie, I am a little sad that it’s all over now. I hope you enjoy this last chapter.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean walks her through the mass of people, shouldering his way across the dance floor with the breadth of his shoulders. They part for him easily. It’s like he’s still got that vibe of authority around him. People respect him, people listen to him when he talks, people are looking up to him. She’ll never get used to that, because even though Dean can be acting all though, he’s really just the softest when he’s with her. 

It’s when they walk out into the parking lot that she has to ask, “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.” He says, looking back and there’s a huge smile on his face.

He walks to his car, opens up the door to let her get in and she hesitates, “You’re the best man, I don’t think you should be leaving now.”

“It’s over, we ate, we drank, people can have a good time without me,” Dean explains, “Besides, Cas knows and he’s okay with it.”

“But the bride didn’t throw her bouquet yet.” She doesn’t know why she says this, she doesn’t even know if they all are throwing flowers because she’s really never been to a wedding before. 

Dean’s eyebrow climbs up his forehead, “Do you want to catch the bouquet?”

“I don’t know?”

“You don’t like flowers.”

“Yeah, but still.” She crosses her arms but decides to get into the car. 

He closes the door, walks around and settles in before he turns to her, “Baby, you don’t need a bridal bouquet.”

 *

 “Are we there yet?” She asks, because she can’t even see. 

Dean had taken off his tie and blindfolded her with it before they set out on their journey, asking first if she trusts him and of course she does. So now she’s sitting in the dark, with no sense of orientation whatsoever. 

It feels like they’ve been driving for hours already.

“You just asked six fucking minutes ago.” Dean growls beside her. 

“But we’re not there yet!”

“No.”

She sits back, tries to relax. 

After a while, though, she asks again, “Dean, are we there yet?”

“Jesus, baby, just be patient!”

“I don’t like surprises, is all.” She mutters under her breath.

Dean chuckles, “I know. But you’ll like this one, I promise.”

She nods, leans her head back before she opens her mouth again to speak but Dean cuts her off.

“I swear if you ask me one more time if we’re there yet, I’ll turn the car around and we’re going back to the wedding!” 

“Wow,”

He laughs then, “I always wanted to be able to say that for once in my life.”

 *

 Y/N must have been sleeping by the time they arrive. Dean’s nudging against her face, pokes at her cheek with his index finger. 

“Are we there yet?” She mumbles groggily, almost forgets that she still has his tie around her eyes. 

Dean chuckles, leans closer, kisses her. She doesn’t see him, but feels him. Thinks that maybe she’d like to do that one time in bed. Having him wrap one of his ties around her eyes so she wouldn’t be able to see but only feel. 

He doesn’t take the blindfold off yet, though, and it’s somehow exciting but at the same time she’s anxious about it. Can’t help it. She really does not like surprises. 

She hears him getting out of the car, a moment later the door on her side opens and he scoops her up.

“Hold tight,” Dean whispers and she does, wraps her legs around his body as he closes the car door before he gets something out of the trunk. From the way he’s breathing, it must be their bag.

He walks her along a path, feels him going up little steps and then another path. There’s jingles of keys as she feels him fishing out something from his pants. And then she hears a turning of a key, hears an opening of a door. A click. Switching on of a light probably, because it gets brighter, and then he drops her down and positions himself behind her, his hand on her shoulders.

Dean lowers his head and whispers next to her ear, “You ready?” His big hand squeezes her shoulders, rubs up and down. 

“I don’t know,” She whispers back, “Should I be?”

Dean laughs into the back of her head, leaves a little peck before his fingers unknots her blindfold. 

It comes off and she blinks, lets her eyes adjust to the brightness of the light above them. 

Y/N’s standing in the entrance to a house, the walls are white around her, and there's a stairway that leads up the stairs to the second floor. 

“Look,” Dean says, turning her a little to a drawing he framed and hung up on the wall next to the door. It's her drawing, the one with both of them together plus Cuddles and Bubbles. 

She has tears in her eyes, can’t help it.

“Come on, I take you on a tour. It’s not finished yet but I sped up and got all the things done we would need to be able to start living here,” Dean pulls her along and she can’t even open her mouth to protest. Not that she wants to. 

They walk through the door and stand in a kitchen, it isn’t fully equipped yet but there’s a fridge and two stoves that they can use. The kitchen isle is still wrapped in packaging. 

“This is where you’ll spend most of your time.” Dean presents the kitchen to her, says it with a straight face. 

She elbows him in the rip. 

“Ouch! What was that for?” He wraps his hands around her, kisses her temple. 

“Oh, you know,” She says and they stand there, with Dean’s arm around her. “Once this is finished, it’ll be beautiful.”

“Come on,” Dean says, drags her into another section of the house. He shows her the dining table and there’s a terrace to the back. They step out to it but it’s already dark and she can’t see a lot. She still remembers it from the listing though, remembers that there’s a huge yard, a meadow that drops to a pond. She’s sure that the view’s amazing by daylight. 

Dean stands behind her again, wraps his hands around her middle, hugging her from behind. “Look up.”

She does, looks up to see stars in the sky. 

“We can see stars from here. Imagine sleeping out on the porch, looking up to the sky, how does that sound?”

“Amazing,” She says, because it really truly is. 

“Now, let’s go to the bedroom.”

She gasps dramatically, “Dean, I’m not that easy!”

He snorts so loud, she thinks he choked on his own saliva for a hot minute. He picks her up after, throws her over his shoulder and goes in, mentions the living room in passing. There’s already a couch, a TV’s still missing. Dean climbs up the stairs, his hand on her thigh and ass and he spanks her twice, making her yelp up with a laugh.

Y/N sees everything upside down when she turns her face but the nicest view is actually Dean’s ass in the fitting dress pants. Can’t quite take her eyes off of it. She spanks him too, for good measure. 

Dean just growls and she’s hanging from his shoulder until he walks along the landing to the last room to the left. 

Dropping her down on the bed, he follows, propping himself up on one elbow on his side as he watches her take in the room. 

It’s painted white with a heavy wooden closet and bed frame. There’s an adjacent room, which she thinks is the bathroom. 

He’s still on the bed as he watches her get off it to walk over to the window. The room overlooks the meadow. 

She turns back and smiles before she peeks into the bathroom. She tries the switch and the room lights up.

There’s a big window and an equally big bathtub. 

“The bathtub’s the first thing I installed in here.” He’s standing at the door, head leaned against the door frame.

She’s surprised that Dean sees the bathtub as their thing too. She loves bathing with Dean, doesn't really want to admit that she never liked bathing before she met him. 

“Is it big enough for the both of us?” She asks but knows that it is. It’s bigger than a normal tub, but not as big as the tub he has in his apartment. 

Dean walks over, squeezing her arm in passing, “We can test it.”

 *

 They’re sitting in the dark in the tub, have turned off the lights because the stars are shining in the skies, they can see it when they look out of the window. Dean leans the back of his head on the ledge, her head’s on his chest. His fingers stroking her in the warmth of the water.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asks, his hands coming up to massage her shoulder, her chest.

Y/N leans into the touch, her hands stroking his thighs on either side of her body. “Good. Great, actually,” She says, and adds, “Thank you for showing me.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean chuckles, his big hands come around her body, laying one hand on her stomach. “Can you imagine living here? With me?”

Y/N still think it’s cute how he asks. On one hand, he shows her all this as if he’s made the decision for both of them already but on the other hand, he’s afraid that he might have gone too far so he opts for asking.

“Only if it’s okay with you.” She answers, because, yes, of course she wants to live here.

“Oh, I’m more than okay with it.” He smiles, as he sits up a little, making her sit up with him, and places kisses along her shoulder. “I was thinking of a room for your art. You can decorate it yourself.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We can move in as soon as today. Living and working on finishing it.”

“That sounds really good.”

Dean’s hand travels up her stomach, cups her tits in his big palms, fingers twisting at both her nipples and she has to bite down her bottom lip as not to moan too loud. “They delivered the bed two days ago. Thought I’d never get it on time.”

“On time for what?” She turns around in his grip, braces her hands on either side of his hips and goes in for a kiss, soft and slow. She breaks it before it could get too hot. “Dean Winchester, have you been planning on taking me here to seduce me?”

He smiles, bright and white, “Is it working? I even tested the bed to see if it creaks.”

She’s about to go in for another kiss but has to stop when she hears it. Has to hold herself back from laughing. “How did you test it? Did you get on the bed and wrestle around on your own?”

“Hey, don’t judge!” He’s laughing himself, his hand comes up around the back of her neck and pulls her in for a kiss. 

 *

 Dean spreads her out on the bed, deliberately leaving the lights out and the blinds open. The light from the stars is enough to wrap Dean up in a glowing light when he’s standing at the foot of the bed. 

My god, how did she get so lucky again? He’s looking like a goddamn full course meal when he’s standing there, naked, watching her watching him.

He strokes himself with one hand, and she’s about to move a little to see better when he stops her, “No. Stay. Spread your legs baby, I wanna memorize how you look with the light.” 

Y/N’s blushing. Is thankful that he won’t see that.

“You’re goddamn beautiful.” He whispers.

And it’s probably another agonizing two minutes until he comes to the bed and crawls towards her on all fours until he’s shouldered between her thighs. 

He kisses her thighs, one side then the other, nibbles and sucks at her flesh, moves closer to the place where she wants him most, but he’s stopping short, does the same thing all over again until she’s almost dying of anticipation.

“Dean!” She wriggles her hips and he has to hold her down.

That little shit just chuckles, “What do you want me to do? Tell me.”

“I want your mouth.” 

Dean looks up, raises an eyebrow, “Where do you want my mouth?”

“Oh god,” She props herself on the elbow, and Dean’s laughing because he just loves to get on her nerves, too. “I want your mouth on my pussy, Dean. Want your talented tongue licking and sucking at my clit, want you to get your tongue as far into my pussy as it would go and fuck me with it. Make me come and drip my juices all over your face. Please?”

Dean’s expression changes from playful to serious. He loves when she talks like that, it turns him on and she knows, uses it against him sometimes, like now. And she thinks Dean was not prepared to hear it, was not prepared how he might have just tortured himself with his question.

“Fuck, baby,” He mumbles before he licks a broad stripe up her folds. “You’re already so wet. Tastes so fucking delicious. So sweet.”

He dives in then, spits and licks and sucks like her pussy is really that good. Like he couldn’t be happier when she lets him eat her out. His beard is scratchy, prickles on her sensitive skin but she welcomes the burn. It’s so good. 

Dean lowers his face, buries his nose into her folds and his tongue in her pussy. 

My god, his tongue is massive, so wide and long and it already stretches her when he licks into her and fucks his tongue as deep as he could go without suffocating between her thighs.

He comes up for air, works his tongue around her folds, sucks in her clit as his hands make their way up her body. He toys with her tits, slaps on them and twists her nipples while he shakes his head and hums with her clit between his teeth. 

Y/N’s hands fly to his head, grips at his short hair, pulls him in further without even wanting to but she’s on the edge, ready to fall off a cliff. 

“Dean,” His name makes it past her lips in a quiet sobbing moan while her back arches, pushing herself against his face. 

She closes her eyes, breathes hard and she swears, she sees white dots flying around behind her eyelids. 

After a while she starts to laugh while Dean’s still cleaning her up down there. She clasps her hand over her face and laughs wholeheartedly.

Dean comes up and she looks down, sees his face shining in the light. “Good?”

“My god, yes.” She giggles, her hands go down to cradle his face, thumbs brushing away at the wetness in his beard and face as she pulls him up to kiss him. 

One of her hands goes between them, searching for his dick she thinks she has to work back up to it’s erected state but to her surprise, she finds it hard and it’s hanging heavy between his legs, the tip’s weeping wet. 

She doesn’t know how he does that, how eating her out for so long and chasing after her pleasure is something he really and truly enjoys, something that turns him on so much that he’s still fucking hard he could pound a nail with it.

Y/N strokes him while he kisses her and she tastes herself on him. Dean has to break the kiss but he leaves his forehead on hers. “Go on, do that and I won’t be fucking you tonight.”

And she does want that, wants him to fuck her, wants to feel him, so she lets go, “How do you want me?”

“You let me choose?” He’s laughing.

She grins and nods, “Yeah.”

Dean kisses her again before speaking, “The floor length mirror didn’t arrive yet so I guess you’ll be riding me tonight.” He turns on his back next to her. “Come on, hop on cowgirl!”

Laughing, she straddles him and teases him a little by grinding her pussylips over the length of his shaft. It feels so fucking perfect already. He helps her by gripping her hips, pushing and pulling her. 

Suddenly, she feels his hands coming down on her ass, spanking her hard enough to leave a mark. “Baby, seriously you want me to fuck you or not?”

She has to laugh at that and gives in, her hand picks up his dick, positions it to her entrance and slowly sits down on it. She can see him biting down on his bottom lip, the frown sits on his face. She works it in deeper, sits down lower until he bottoms out. 

“Oh god, you’re so deep,” She moans, resting her hands on his chest and Dean’s taking deep breaths to even out his excitement. 

Pausing, she takes deep breaths herself, is close to losing it because his dick always hits the right buttons on the inside of her. 

“Goddamn it, baby, can you move? I’m dying here.” Dean growls low and dark, he’s gritting his teeth. 

She starts to bounce up and down, slowly at first but then she gets faster. Dean spanks her ass once, twice, leaves his hand on the flesh of her ass cheeks, kneads it while he helps her bounce. 

“Jesus, you’re so beautiful up there with the light. I could watch your tits bouncing around all night.” His hands come around her body, palms cupping her tits to emphasize it. 

“Choke me,” She breathes out in a whisper, but Dean hears her nonetheless because his hands come around her throat, pressing down, cutting off her air supply. 

Y/N starts to ride him harder, faster, chasing her orgasm that’s so close. 

“That’s it,” Dean breathing hard himself, is trying actively not to come before her. “Ride through it, baby. Keep on riding. Good girl, you’re doing so good. Christ, you feel so fucking perfect.”

“Dean, I’m—”

“—I got you, baby.” Dean whispers, pulls her down until they’re chest to chest, wraps his arms around her and starts to fuck up into her, chasing both their release for her and for himself.

“Look at me, baby,” Dean pants through gritted teeth, urges her to stop burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

And she does, braces her hand on the side of his shoulder, looks at him, the tip of their noses touch. “Dean,” She says, feels that familiar tingling feeling crawling up her spine and her eyes cross for a brief second. 

Dean smiles at her, pulls her in for a kiss as he comes deep, bottoming out as deep as his dick could go.

They lie in the dark, her head on his chest. She listens to his heart beat while he strokes her back. It’s only when she’s shivering that he peels her off him, slips his soft dick out which makes her flinch. He lays her down and covers them both with a blanket. 

She has her head on his shoulder, draws an invisible drawing on his chest. They’re both almost falling asleep but then something hits her. “Bubbles!”

Dean chuckles, “Don’t worry. Sam will go feed her.”

“You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

He kisses the top of her head and pouts, “It’s like you don’t even know me.” 

Y/N smiles at that before she goes still. Her heart picks up speed because there’s still something that she wants to get off her chest but she’s afraid of how Dean would react.

“What is it?” Dean asks and really, how does he fucking do that? She didn’t say anything yet.

She sighs, “I have to tell you something, promise not to be mad?”

He turns on his side, hovers above her. “I never get mad at you.”

She knows that but still.

Dean doesn’t say anything, just watches her, a little crease between his eyebrows. 

“Well,” She starts and breathes in and out before continuing, “Do you think the house will be finished in about nine months time?”

“Why such a precise number?” Dean frowns some more.

She doesn’t say anything, just keeps on staring at him, waits for him to put two and two together, hopes he’s not that dense when it comes to taking hints.

The crease between his eyebrows grows deeper, and then there it was, the realization that hits him like a freight train. His lips form an ‘o’.

“I’m not sure because I haven’t done a test yet but I’m four days late.”

He smiles before leaning down to kiss her eyebrow, her nose, her lips. “Why should I be mad about it?

“I don’t know? Maybe you don’t want a baby now that you have freedom. Maybe you don’t even like kids. Mayb—”

Dean kisses her again, cutting her off, it grows so hard she thinks he’s bruising her. They break off for air, and Dean leaves his forehead on hers. “It’s true, I never wanted a baby. At least I never wanted one in my former life. But I would want one with you. Hell, give me a hundred.”

She giggles at that, “There’s no way I can birth a hundred babies. You gotta find someone else for that.”

“But how? You’re on birth control.”

Y/N shrugs, “I guess the many painkillers were contra productive and I don’t know. I took it regularly. But it could also be that I missed a day or two, I really can’t remember. Are you mad? Maybe the mistake is on me?”

“‘M not mad. And it’s not you. No contraception is 100% effective. You don’t have to be a genius to know that.” Dean pecks her nose, gets out of bed and picks up his pants from the floor. He gets back into them before searching for his shirt, gets into it and buttons it up.

“Where are you going? You leaving me?”

He finds it, pulls it over his head, and comes around, leans down to place a kiss on her forehead. “Relax, I’m gonna go get a test.”

“Dean, it’s past 1AM.”

Dean shrugs, walking out of the room but calls back, “There’s food in the fridge. And you better drink a lot because you need to pee. No falling asleep, you hear me?”

She rolls her eyes.

“Stop rolling your eyes!”

How does he do that?

 *

 It’s more than an hour later when Dean gets back with a bag full of tests. 

She eyes him, “Do you want me to pee on all of them?”

Dean sits down, takes off his shoes. “Actually, you can pee in a cup and we can use that pee for all the tests.” He says, “I let them explain it to me.” 

“Oh my god.”

“What? He asked if I knew how it works and I said I actually didn’t, so he started explaining and it was actually really interesting.” Dean says with a straight face as his hands go under the blanket, searches for her feet to pull her to the edge. “Now move your ridiculously cute butt to the bathroom and pee into the cup I bought.”

“We’re really doing this. Now?”

“Duh,” Dean scoops her up, walks her to the bathroom, the bag still in her hands, and drops her down before he walks out. “Just peeing, no testing yet!”

She rolls her eyes.

“Would you please stop rolling your eyes!”

 *

 They’re sitting on the floor in the bathroom with their backs leaned against the tub. She still has a blanket wrapped around her and watches as Dean unpacks a test.

“Okay, we have to dip that into your pee for five seconds. You ready?”

“No.”

“Jesus, Y/N!”

“I can’t. You do it.” She clasps her hand over her face.

Dean breathes out, “Fine.” He grumpily takes the cup and dips the test into the pee, counts to five and takes it out, pushes the cover over it until it clicks. 

“What now?”

“Now we wait.” He says.

She lays her head on his shoulder, and Dean starts to shake the test. “It’s not a Polaroid, Dean.”

“Maybe it’ll be faster like that, you shush your mouth.”

They both start to laugh but soon the laughter dies down when Dean turns the test to read. 

“That’s a plus sign, no?” He asks and she can literally feel the blood draining from her head.

“I feel nauseous.” She mumbles, and starts to fan at her face with her hands.

“Baby,” Dean drops the test and cradles her face with his palms. “Look at me,”

She lets her hands fall to her side, opens her eyes. “I’m—”

“—It’s okay,” He’s soft voice soothes her as he kisses her chin, her lips. “I got you, okay?”

“I’m— ..wow.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean says and she can feel his hands shaking too. “Shall we try another one? Just to be sure?”

Y/N could only nod. 

The second one comes out even more positive, if that’s even possible and she has tears in her eyes. Yeah, sure, she always dreamed of having children, but it’s too early, isn’t it? Things only start to fall into place now.

Dean lays his arm around her shoulder, strokes her head when she leans it on his shoulder. 

“I need a drink,” She mumbles.

“Yeah, me too.” Dean agrees but doesn’t get up, knowing that she’s not allowed to drink anymore for the time being. 

“We’re going to be so lost. I can barely take care of myself.” She chuckles but it’s not even funny anymore.

Dean has to smile at that. “Can’t lie, I’m terrified. But we’re gonna get through this together, don’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“We can ask Cas and Anna for advice and we watch and learn from their mistakes.” 

She snorts out a laugh at that. 

“I think I now have even more reason to do this,” Dean stretches out a leg to fish something out from his pants pockets and holds it out to her.

Y/N shakes her head as she sees that it’s a box, “No, Dean. No, you don’t have to. I’m not expecting you to, just because I’m pregnant.”

“I know, but I want to.” He says, “Just, don’t judge when I don’t get on my knees alright? I think they’ll give out if I do.”

She has to chuckle at that, and her eyes are getting wet. 

Dean opens the box and she cries even more. She was expecting something big and over the top where she will have to tell him that it’s too much, that he should tone it down but it’s just a simple white gold ring with one single strong diamond, which is just perfect, really. 

Dean clears his throat, he sniffs too, “I actually wanted to ask you earlier. Before you left me. Had planned it through. Was about to ask you to marry me after the coup but you were gone.” His voice is a little shaky, “And when you came back, I wanted to make sure you would want to stay. And I think for the past week, I thought about asking you again, had actually planned to do it tonight in our new house. So, no, it’s not only because you’re pregnant.”

“Dean,” She wants to say more but she couldn’t, she can’t form words in her head.

“That’s my name, yes.” He jokes and she punches his arm with a laugh before she starts to sob again. 

“I love you, Y/N. I want you here with me. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up, the last before I go to sleep. I want you to drive me nuts,”

She raises her eyebrows a little, “Even when I can’t decide on what to buy when we go groceries shopping?”

“Even then,”

“You want me here, even when I steal your blanket?”

“Yes,”

“Even when I can never decide where we want to eat out?”

Dean snorts out a little laugh, “That actually annoys the fuck out of me.”

“Even when I annoy the fuck out of you? You still love me?”

“I want you to annoy the fuck out of me. I want you. Period. You understand? I want to be the last person who kisses you,” He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Wait, that sounds terrible, like a threat or something. What I’m actually trying to say is, you’re it. This is it for me and I don’t want anything else. I would give up everything I have as long as I can keep you in my life. And now I wanna ask you, if you’re okay with it, can I keep you?”

She weeps into the palms of her hand and Dean pulls her close, laying her head on his shoulder. He places a soft kiss on the crown of her hair.

When she doesn’t answer right away, he goes on, “Like there’s really zero pressure. I don’t want you to feel like you have to marry me. Not at all. We can just take it one day at a time. We don’t even have to marry at all if that’s not what you want. It’s just a way for me to tell you that you’re it. You’re all I want.” His voice is shaking a little too, “What do you say? Huh?”

“You’re an idiot,” She chuckles between tears.

“I know,” Dean grins a little.

She nods, “Yes,” before looking up and hooking her arms around his neck, presses her wet face to his to feel his lips against hers.

Dean smiles into the kiss.

Y/N realizes that she never needed much in life. She never wanted or could imagine herself having a fairy tale ending. All she really wanted in life, she realizes, was something just like this.

FIN

You can read the sequel here: Sky Full Of Stars

​

[desiraypark]

Drawing New Lines (I)

A continuation of DRAWING THE LINE

Characters: Kylo Ren x Tiffany (OC, Blk/F) Setting: Modern/Current Universe - comparable to an urban area in present-day U.S.A. Content: Knife TW/Gun TW | Intimidation; some strong language; anxiety/anxious thoughts (fear)

Let’s revisit...

The same evening Chelsea stopped by Tiffany’s apartment...

Tiffany rushed to the door, locked it, and rested her forehead against it. Then, she sank to the floor and sobbed. 

Her world spun around her at a dizzying pace. She was a mistress. The man she loved was married--and his wife didn’t care. She once was pregnant, then she wasn’t. The man who’d showered her with what she thought was love had wrapped his hands around her neck just 24 hours ago.

Her tears ceased and her vision began to clear. She got a look at her apartment. She was nowhere close to having everything packed. Kylo had a second key, possibly. Fuck! He still had an access card to the building. And how the fuck did Chelsea get access? Suddenly, she felt the fabric of her turtleneck against her skin. She rubbed her neck and her face burned, eyes about to flood again.  It was all too much.

Tiffany pulled herself off the floor and packed a duffle bag. She needed to clear her head in a location that didn’t have Kylo’s marks all over it--the TV he bought her; the jewelry. The memories of the various objects he fucked her on. 

With her purse over her shoulder, a duffel bag over the other, and a strong grip on her laptop bag, she stood in the elevator, watching the descending numbers light up. Why didn’t they play music on elevators anymore? The silence was deafening. Tiffany rode all the way down with no stops. She stepped out in the cool autumn air and watched the business of a metropolitan evening whizz by her.

She pulled her phone from her purse, ignored the text messages, and checked on her Uber. Five minutes away. She dropped the phone back in her purse and the movement of people a few yards away naturally caught her eye. A couple walked out of the deli beside her building. Then, behind them, was a familiar figure. She couldn’t remember his name, but she knew he was one of Kylo’s people. He stepped out of the deli with a sandwich and caught Tiffany’s stare. He looked down at her sides. Tiffany immediately turned around and stomped back into her building.

She cancelled her Uber. The ride up the elevator was taunting. Silent. The numbers above her head reminded her of things. Three...the number of rounds they went for her birthday back in May. Eight...the number of crab cakes she’d made when she told him she was pregnant. Ten...the number of fingers that were wrapped around her neck the evening before. She shook her head and pursed her lips, fighting back the impending tears.

Finally, the doors opened on the twelfth floor. Tiffany rushed off the elevator, got into her apartment and threw her purse and duffle bag on the floor. She threw the laptop on the sofa and screamed. Next, she threw herself across the sofa, buried her face in the throw pillow and screamed again. Anger rushed her blood like a charging band of soldiers. She rushed to her purse, retrieved her phone, and called Kylo. It rang three times, then went to voicemail.

Her blood began to boil. He’d texted and called her incessantly since she kicked him out, and now he wanted to make her wait. Now he was going to send her to voicemail? Nothing doing. She called him again, and this time, it went straight to voicemail. She texted him and went back to wetting her pillow with angry tears.

[Image Description: Generated iPhone conversation between Kylo and Tiffany.]

 At 1:20PM, Kylo texted Tiffany saying “Thinking about you. I love you.” At 3:29PM, he texted “Got something for you.” Then, he sent a message at 4:37PM saying “I love you.” Tiffany didn’t respond to any of these messages.

At 7:17PM--set during the entry’s “present time”, after Tiffany is sent to voicemail--Tiffany texted Kylo “TELL HIM TO LEAVE.” At 7:44PM, Kylo responds, “No.” Then, “Not until you talk to me.” Tiffany: “Fuck you. We have nothing to talk about. Kylo: Yes we do.  Kylo: I’ll be over in about two hours. Tiffany: Do not come over. Tiffany: I will call the police Kylo: Don’t be naive, Tiff. Kylo: I’ll be over. I still have the card to your building.

[End Image Description]

_____________

Knock, knock, knock.

Tiffany took a deep breath, moved client photos into their designated Dropbox folder, and walked through her apartment. Either Kylo didn’t have a key or he was pretending that he didn’t. She stopped in front of her kitchen, stepped onto the linoleum, and reached for her knife. His key was still on the half wall. She grabbed it and tossed it into the freezer.

Knock, knock, knock--he knocked harder. “Tiffany?!”

“I’m coming!” she shouted. She looked through the peephole, just to make sure, opened the door, and stepped back with the knife in her hand. Kylo smirked and closed the door behind him. A bouquet of white roses were in his hand.

“Have you forgotten that I carry a fuckin’ gun, Tiffany?” he asked, stepping toward her. She stepped backward, but he held out the flowers. Tiffany walked away and into the kitchen. She rested her hands against the sink and shook her head.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she asked, voice cracking.

Kylo walked to the half wall and placed the flowers on top. He noticed the scars on her neck and quickly looked back into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He reached his hand out, but she stepped back. “It’ll never happen again.”

“You’re right it won’t.”

Kylo’s face tightened and he pursed his lips. Then, he rushed around the half wall and into the kitchen. Tiffany squealed and put the knife up, and Kylo stopped. He rolled his eyes.

“Put the fucking knife down, Tiffany!” he yelled at her. “I’m not a fuckin’ monster. I fuckin’ love you! I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Tiffany took in a deep breath and slowly lowered the knife. Then, Kylo held his hands up, revealing his gun in its holster. Her eyes fell to it. 

“I’ve got something for you, look,” he said. She looked back at his face as he went retrieved a little box from the pocket inside his jacket.

“I don’t care,” Tiffany said, letting the knife rise again. Kylo scoffed, stuffed the box back in his pocket and pulled out his gun. He pointed it at her.

“Put the fuckin’ knife down, Tiff,” he demanded. Tiffany chewed her lip and let her eyes well. Then, she put the knife down on the counter behind her. Kylo reached for her hand, yanked her close, and put the gun back in his holster. He held her waist and kissed her forehead. He created some space between them and pulled the box out of his pocket again. 

“You smell good,” he said.

Tiffany said nothing. She just looked down. But Kylo tilted her face up toward her by his chin. Before they fell, he wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I’ve got somethin’ for you,” he repeated.

He opened the box and revealed a gold ring. At its center was a sapphire and little diamonds surrounded it. 

“The jeweler said it once belonged to Padmé Amidala. That her parents gifted it to her on her 19th birthday.”

Tiffany stared at the ring but looked away. She felt a light touch against her fingers, then Kylo lifted her left hand. She pulled her hand away, but he grabbed it and pressed his thumb and index fingers down over the bone of her middle finger. She turned back to him and he stared into her eyes. Determined. Adamant. Then, he looked back down and slipped the ring onto her fourth finger.

“I don’t want this,” Tiffany whimpered.

“Yes, you do,” he said. “Look at it.”

Tiffany's glistening eyes fell from his and down to her left hand. She observed every glint and shimmer. It was beautiful. Very Padmé Amidala.

And she hated it. She hated it being on her ring finger. Kylo took her face in his palm and stared into her eyes. And her knees weakened. The warmth of his body shrouded her. His fingers melted into her skin. She leaned forward and kissed him. Then, he picked her up in a bridal carry and walked toward the bedroom.

“I can’t…” Tiffany whispered. “...I can’t have sex yet...” 

Kylo turned around and carried her to the living room. He sat on the sofa with her in his arms, cradling her. Tiffany buried her face into his leather jacket and cried. He leaned back onto the plush sofa and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered.

They sat together in silence for about five minutes. Five long and agonizing minutes.

“What did you and Chelsea talk about?” he finally asked.

Tiffany’s eyes widened. Her heart began to pound. But she swallowed.

“She...” 

“She what?” he asked sternly. 

Tiffany licked her lips and answered quickly. “She told me it was okay for us to be together.”

Kylo chuckled and tightened his grip on you. “Hmph.”

The wheels turned in Tiffany’s head. 

Was that the right response? Does Kylo know that Chelsea has always known about them? Did Chelsea REALLY want them together? Were they working together to kill her, or something?

Tiffany wiggled from Kylo’s arms and rose from the sofa. He peeled off his jacket as she went into the bedroom. 

“Where you goin’?” he asked. He turned on the television.

“I need to finish some work,” Tiffany mumbled.

Tiffany walked into the bedroom and felt herself about to cry again. She froze and squeezed her eyelids close--stopping the tears from falling. Then, she climbed onto her bed. Just as she sat down and awakened her laptop, Kylo walked into the bedroom, stretched out beside her, and snuggled as close as he could.

____________________ TAG LIST @aloneandsleepless​ @a-true-janian-reply​ @iamasithprincess​

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

xvii. THE WEDDING

Two years later.

Ivy had paid a couple of visits to her father in the past two years due to the deal him and Tommy made. The visits were going well, Alfie hadn't struck out yet and shouted at his daughter. He was calm and collected. She found herself looking forward to their little meetings and forgetting all the pain that he had put her through over the years. Ivy had also been visiting her mum and brother. Less regularly than Alfie, but a few times every month. She enjoyed catching up with her family, even though they weren't all together again, which was probably for the best. The girl was happy. Happier than she had ever been.

A lot had changed in the past few years for Ivy, though. She was happy with her father, talking to her mum and brother again and she had also met the new addition to the Shelby family. Well, soon-to-be new addition. Grace Burgess. Ivy had met the woman a few weeks after the Epsom races. She was told that she was pregnant with Tommy's child and that they knew each other before Ivy met the Shelbys. The girl admired Grace. She was strong, independent and beautiful. Little did Ivy know that Grace felt the same way about her. She also really liked her accent. A few details had been left out for the girl, though. Ivy was not aware of the fact that Grace had sold Tom out and betrayed the Shelby family. The girl had noticed that some of them were slightly off around her but she didn't know why. When she asked Finn about it, he brushed her off and just said that he was quite young and couldn't really remember.

That's another thing that had changed for Ivy, Finn. The pair had become close, very close. Ivy and Finn would still meet up regularly so she could teach him how to read. He was gradually making his way through 'The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde'. He was struggling with it but Ivy enjoyed helping him, she thought it was cute. Due to their regular meetings, they talked more and some would even say they flirted more. Every other Shelby knew how close they were and they teased them about it. The teens would blush and act awkward whenever confronted about it. Michael had noticed it more than anyone, however. His deal with the girl still upheld and whenever he would see Ivy with Finn, a burning sensation filled his stomach. He was talking to his girl, touching his girl, flirting with his girl. Michael wasn't happy with it but he kept his mouth closed because nobody else knew of his and Ivy's deal. He would clench his jaw and busy himself with something else. Ivy had begun to realise that their deal was wrong. Every time they would sleep together, Ivy would feel instant regret after it. Yes, she enjoyed it, a lot, but she realised that it was very morally wrong. But she never spoke up about it, she still craved his touch.

That day was a day like no other. It was different to any day before because of the major event that was going to happen. Ivy had never been to one before and neither had Finn. It was the day of Thomas Shelby’s wedding. His family thought he would never settle down with anyone and he would be forever fucking random rich women. They were happy for him, nevertheless; glad that he had finally found a nice woman that could potentially change him for the better.

Everybody waited in the church, dressed to perfection. Friends and family of Tommo stood on one side and friends and family of Grace stood on the other. Ivy had asked her mum and brother if they wanted to go but May had turned her nose up at the word 'wedding'. "Fucking Tommy Shelby." She had muttered before politely declining the invite. "Fucking Cavalry." Finn muttered under his breath as more filtered into the church. "What is it with you Shelbys and the Cavalry?" Ivy asked her friend. "To be honest, I don't know. John and Arthur complain about them a lot. They say they think they're better than everyone else." Ivy laughed at his lack of knowledge. "Ivy." A small voice said behind her, a small giggle followed it. The girl turned around to be met with Charles, Tommo's child. He was learning how to speak but could only say names for the moment. The boy held his arms in the air, signifying that he wanted to be picked up. Ivy followed his wishes and picked the child up, groaning in the process. She bounced the boy and let out small laughs. A wide smile rested on the boy's face. Finn lent over the girl's shoulder to wiggle his finger in Charles's face, he poked his lip a couple of times and then started pulling funny faces at him. Charles continued to giggle and Ivy tried to stifle her laughter.

She couldn't contain it any longer and let out a loud snort at Finn's actions. His face dropped immediately and he turned around, ranting to himself. "I'll take him for you, Ivy." Ada said to her friend that she saw as a sister. Ivy gave the child over to Ada so she could relax for a little bit. "I'll have him." A deeper voice asked.

Ivy looked over to see Michael taking the child from her. The girl thought of the deal they held and how wrong it was. The two hadn't spent a night together in a while but the deal still upheld.

Michael played with the child, dangling him over the edge of the platform. Ada was laughing but then saw what he was doing and swiftly tried to stop him. Ivy turned back to Finn who was still ranting to himself. "Are you alright?" She asked sarcastically. "Mm." He hummed as a response. The music started to play and people stopped talking. Whispers circled the church as somebody walked into it. Jeremiah walked down the aisle and the Cavalry were not happy about it. "Fucking racists." Ivy whispered under her breath. Some of them looked over to the pair so Ivy and Finn did what they thought was the right thing to do. They simultaneously stuck their middle fingers up at the Cavalry. They responded with offended looks on their faces. Ada slapped Ivy's arm to lightly tell her off. "A lady doesn't swear in public." She told her. “You’re one to talk.” Ivy giggled.

The service moved swiftly on, despite the brief moment of racism. Softer music began to play and Grace walked into the church accompanied by a member of the Cavalry. Tommo smiled when he saw his bride walk down the aisle. Ivy looked between the couple and a grin grew on her face. She hoped that one day someone would love her as much as they loved each other. The pair exchanged their vows and kissed. Whilst the Cavalry were polite with their small claps, the Shelbys cheered and shouted. Everybody followed the pair outside to take some pictures and so Grace could throw the flowers. "Not gonna have a go, princess?" Michael muttered in Ivy's ear as all the girls crowded around Grace. "You know what, I will." She said with sass. Ivy stood in the back of the crowd, not wanting to get mauled. "3," Grace began her countdown. "2. 1." She threw the bouquet in the air and it came down faster than the girls expected. They tripped over each other, scratching and fighting for it. Due to Ivy's position in the back of the crowd, she caught it with ease and with one hand. The girls stopped and turned to face her. They charged at her like a pack of wild dogs so she threw the flowers again, sending them flying across the yard. Ivy laughed at the sight of the girls fighting over something so petty. "Having fun?" Finn asked the girl. "Yeah." The pair laughed and joined everyone else, ready to take some photos.

Everybody lined up on the stairs to the church, chatter still flowed around the people. Arthur stressed out in front of everyone then joined the crowd after rounding all the other people up. "Alright, take the photograph!" He shouted once people had calmed down. The camera flashed as, some, people put on their best smiles for the picture. Once the picture had been taken, Ivy began to look around the crowd. Her eyes landed on a tall man who was speaking to a young woman. He handed a cigarette to her and smiled. There was something off about him, something that sent a chill down Ivy's spine. She ignored the feeling, though and turned to talk with Finn and Isaiah. Tommy and Grace walked to climb into the horse and carriage that stood waiting for them. Tom span to tell Arthur something and when he turned away to drive off, Arthur shouted at everyone so they could filter into cars to go to Tommo's new house.

Shortly after the ceremony and pictures, everybody filtered out of the church and into various cars to journey to Tom and Grace's grand new house. He had finally moved out of Small Heath and to the countryside for some fresh air. The crowd moved towards the doors of the house, everybody in their own separate conversations. John pushed Finn into the fountain but Ivy caught him before he could fall. Ivy tried to trip John up by sticking her foot out but he only stumbled. The house was huge, grand decorations covered the place. An assortment of paintings scattered the walls. The staircase was massive and spiraling; multiple corridors lead off from it. Ivy gasped as she walked into the foyer. "I'm glad you like it." Tom tapped her shoulder.

She hadn't had time earlier to congratulate him so the girl lent in for a hug. "Congratulations." She mumbled into his shoulder and Tommo rubbed her back. "Thank you. You look-"

"Amazing." Grace cut him off. Tom and Ivy pulled out of their own hug so the girl could hug Grace. "Speak for yourself." Even draped in Thomas's over-sized coat, she still looked gorgeous. "Thank you."

"Grace..." A Cavalry member called for the bride and she went off to speak for them. When Ivy spun back around, Tom was nowhere to be seen so she went to speak with Polly and Ada.

Ballroom music echoed around the large room. People started to dance and get drinks. Ivy was dancing with Karl, Ada's son. She spun him around and around until he struggled to walk because he was so dizzy. Ivy ran after the boy, trying to keep him on his feet in fear that Ada would be mad if he got hurt. "Ivy, Tom wants ya' in the kitchen. Come on." Arthur told the girl, Finn trailing behind him. "Mummy's over there. Go." Ivy chuckled as Karl tried to make his way back to his mother. The Solomons followed the man through Tom's vast house and to the kitchen. The group picked up Isaiah on the way but a young girl stopped him in his tracks. "Excuse me, I was told to ask someone young. Will there be any cocaine?" Ivy heard the word 'cocaine' and her ears instantly perked up. She knew that Finn liked the drug a lot and she was not too fond of his habits. "Sweetheart, I am y-" Isaiah tried to speak to the girl but Ivy cut him off. "Sorry, love. No crack-whores allowed." She pulled the teen away from the girl and to the kitchen. "Do you want me to get laid?" He sarcastically asked. "If you're that desperate, I'll fuck you." She told the boy, not meaning a word she said. Her mind was already filled with guilt from Michael. "Is that a promise?" Isaiah flirted. "I was being sarcastic, Zy," He sighed, slightly annoyed that she wasn't going to follow up on her offer. "There are plenty of other whores here tonight that you can get with, but later." Isaiah nudged the girl's shoulder. "Who pissed in your tea?" He joked. "No one." Ivy laughed at her friend's words.

They entered the kitchen and servants were everywhere, rushing around the room, trying to deliver food to various places in the room. Finn picked food off of any tray that zoomed past him. "Finn, stop." Ivy tried to pull Finn away from the food he kept trying to steal. He giggled and tried to run away but she grabbed his arm. Everybody filed into a rough circle and Tommy stood in the middle with a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips. Ivy looked around the room and saw that she was the only girl in there. "Right boys, and Ivy, you're all here. Today, this is my fucking wedding day." He announced to the group. "Yeah, and you said there'd be no bloody uniforms." John piped up. 'What was with the boys and the Cavalry?' Ivy asked herself. "Nevertheless... nevertheless, John... Despite the bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet. Now for Grace's sake, nothing will go wrong. Those bastards out there are family. And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything..." He spat at his family and some others. "Tom." Isaiah spoke up. "What?" Tommy shouted. "What about snow?" Ivy scoffed at his question. It was an illegal drug after all. "Yeah, their women are sports , I'll say that." John grabbed Isaiah's head and tugged it around. "No. No. No," Tommo told them. "No cocaine. No cocaine. No sport," He told John. Tom went round the circle, giving everyone specific orders. "No telling fortunes. No racing," He told Arthur. Then he went over to Finn and Ivy. "No fucking sucking petrol out of their fucking cars," Tom slapped Finn and grabbed his cheek, he just smirked as a response.

"No stripping down to ya' panties and swimming in the fucking creek." The girl giggled as Tommo pointed at the pair. Finn nudged her arm, remembering their summer adventures together. But that was a story for another time.

"And Charlie, stop spinning yarns about me, eh?" He walked over to the older man. "I'm just trying to sell you to them, Tom." Charlie tried to defend himself. Tommo rubbed his eyes as the stupidity of his peers. "But the main thing is, you bunch of fuckers, despite the provocation from the Cavalry, no fighting. Oi!" He stormed over to Isaiah who wasn't paying much attention to Tom's orders. "No fighting. No fucking fighting," He went around the circle, waggling his finger in everybody's face. "No fighting. No! Fucking! Fighting!" Thomas finished his speech and went over to the corner to put his jacket back on. "Good." He muttered. Ivy hadn't noticed before but Michael was stood in the corner. Silent. A cigarette suspended in between his lips. Michael noticed the girl looking at him and raised his eyebrow as if he was asking if they wanted to fulfill part of their deal then and there. She shook her head, earning a look from Finn. Mickey rolled his eyes and went back to his cigarette. A servant walked past the group in the corner and accidentally knocked Tom. Due to his agitated state, he pushed the servant over and Arthur launched something at the poor man.

Everyone began to walk out of the room and into the main dining hall to eat. The Cavalry sat on one side and the gypsies on the other. The dining room was enormous with golden trimming to the walls and ceiling. A large painting rested above the head of the table. It was a painting of Tommo with his horse. 'Still a rich bastard.' Ivy thought to herself. People took their seats and before the girl knew it, the only spare seat that was left was in between Michael and Finn. She sighed, knowing that it was going to be a long meal. There had always been tension between the boys, partly due to Ivy. Finn hated the fact that he could waltz back into the family after being gone for so long and still fit in better than he could. And Michael... he hated the fact that Ivy and Finn were as close they were. But they were just friends, after all."Ivy. Vee, do you want some?" Finn tapped the girl's shoulder, trying to get her attention. She turned her head to the boy's lap. There rested two small, blue vials. Tokyo. "Finn..." She trailed off. She was sure that she had told Finn about how she felt about the drug. "Ivy, it helps you relax. Come on, it's good stuff."

"Finn, it's bad for you. Yeah, it might feel good at first but it'll mess with your head." Finn's face dropped at the girl's words. "Fine." He muttered and stood up from the chair to go to a secluded room. Isaiah noticed him leaving and followed shortly after. "Everything not so happy in fairyland?" A smug voice sounded next to Ivy. Her head snapped to the origin. "What does that even mean, Michael?" She asked the man. "I see you and Finn have fallen out." He lifted a cigarette up to his lips and took a long drag. As soon as he exhaled, he inhaled again, the smoke going up his nose. As much as Ivy loathed herself for it, it was quite attractive. "We haven't fallen out I ju-"

"It seems like you have. You know where I am and what my services offer, should you ever get... lonely." Her boss cut her off. She sighed deeply, annoyed by his presence but partly tempted to fulfill her end of the deal. "Shut up, Mickey." Ivy's gaze was cast at the wall in front of her. She hoped that she hadn't annoyed Finn. She had just wanted him to be safe. 'I sound like my mother.' She said to herself. The girl ignored Michael's constant ramblings next to her and amply awaited Finn's return. She wanted to apologise to him, she was just worried that he'd be too high to care. Soon enough, the boy came back into the room with Isaiah. He sat down next to his friend and slightly startled her in the process, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Finn, I just wanted to s-"

"It's alright, Ivy," He cut her off but placed the vial on the table. It was still full. Ivy stared at it in partial amazement but took it to hold in her hand. She continued to look at the small, blue bottle that rested in her palm." Tom caught us. Said we'd have to save it until after we eat." Ivy sighed, knowing that they'd still take it anyway but she knew that they would try and stay safe with it. Well, she hoped they would. The girl realised that it would be best if she stayed with them for the rest of the night, to make sure they don't get into any trouble. "Okay." Ivy muttered. More and more food was being carried into the room. People were starting to complain about where Tom and Grace were, Arthur had even gone to find them. "They're probably just fucking." Michael stated nonchalantly. At that comment, Ivy turned around so she could speak to Finn and only Finn. That was difficult though because of Ada. She was talking to a Cavalry member about politics and she looked rather confused, and so did Finn. "I don't know what she's saying, Vee. It's like she's speaking another language." He complained. Ivy giggled at his words. "It's alright, Finn. I don't understand it either." Everybody waited for a while longer for the newly-weds to come back into the room. Arthur had returned and people questioned why they weren't with him.

Ivy surveyed the room again, getting a better look at people's faces this time. Her eyes latched onto a particular man sitting next to Polly. He was the dodgy one from the wedding ceremony, the one Ivy felt uneasy about. The girl shifted in her seat, unsure of what put her off about him so much. Lizzie got up out of her seat and left the room, almost as soon as Grace and Tommy walked in. Ivy looked towards the girl and then at Michael, he might've known why. The girl raised an eyebrow at her boss but he just shook his head. Ivy wasn't convinced though. Over the past two years, working in the offices got her closer to all of the girls that worked there, especially Lizzie. She had become an older sister to her so Ivy thought it was only right if she went to check up on her friend. The Solomons stood up from her chair and went to leave the same way Lizzie had gone but Michael grabbed her arm, preventing her from leaving. "Let me go. I know why." The man pushed her back into her seat and Mickey left the room, Arthur following shortly behind. "Fucking men." Ivy whispered under her breath before she downed her drink. "What's that?" Finn asked the girl. "Nothing," She laughed. "You're not old enough." She joked with her friend. "I'm eighteen now, same as you. Of course I'm old enough." He defended. "Fair point." Ivy responded. The pair waited for Lizzie, Mickey and Arthur to come back into the room so they could do the speeches. Michael and Arthur came back in first, Lizzie not long after. She looked angry but quickly put on a happy facade for Tommy.

Tommo stood up and raised his glass in the air and everyone followed suit. "To the bride." He toasted and Grace shook her head but smiled. "To the bride." Everyone repeated in unison with their glasses raised in the air.

"And now, according to tradition," Tom cleared his throat half-way through his sentence. "My best man will say a few words." Thomas took a seat and patted Arthur's shoulder as a cue for him to stand up. "Go on! Here he goes! Go on, Arthur!" John shouted at his brother. Ivy shook her head but laughed at the Shelby's words of 'encouragement'. The man stood up from his seat and cleared his throat before speaking. Linda, Arthur's wife, beamed at him. Ivy had briefly met the woman a few times before and she thought she was... perky. "Right, um... I'm not one for speeches."

"Sing then!" John told him. Finn nudged Ivy's leg under the table. He loved hearing her sing and it felt like every time they were with each other, Finn would get Ivy to sing to him. He loved her voice and the songs she sang to him. "I will later, John," Nerves radiated from the man and his hands shook slightly from the pressure. "But, uh, I do, uh... I do have some words written down here," He reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a small piece of parchment that had his speech written down. "On this piece of paper. This doesn't include everything that I want to say." Tommo shook his head and interrupted his brother. "Arthur, just, uh.... Just read what you wrote down, eh?" His brother nodded at the groom's instructions and continued his speech.

"I will, I will," Thomas hummed as a response. "But, first.. first, uh, a few words from... from the heart. Um, this man here, my brother Tommy," Ivy gazed around the room once again, to be met with bored faces. She felt bad for the man, she understood how terrifying standing in front of people and making public speeches were. He was doing well, in all fairness. He resumed his speech. "Helped me survive through some of the worst times." Tommy let out a large cough, not-so-subtly hinting that he wanted Arthur to be quiet. "It's a wedding, Arthur. Tell a joke." Michael said with a monotonous tone. "Yeah, tell a joke." John agreed.

Awkwardness filled the room and people shifted in their seats. "What I'm trying to say is that... M-m-my brother and the love of a good woman pulled me through that time. Now Tommy also has the love of a good woman. Her name's Grace. Like the grace of the good Lord," Ivy was partially confused at his words then remembered what he meant. Linda had managed to convert him to Christianity. The girl was glad that Arthur had found some surety in his life and that he felt relieved of all the bad things that he had done in life. Ivy could only dream of that weight being lifted from her own shoulders. "And even though the circumstances of their union was tragic..." Thomas stood from his chair and cut his brother off, seriously wanting him to stop speaking. "Alright, let's, uh, Arthur. Let's raise a toast, eh? To uh... to love, to peace, to marriage." The guests stood once again, with their glasses raised in the air. "To marriage." People repeated, although it was quieter than the first toast. "Well done, Arthur. Beautiful speech. Really nice." John taunted. Arthur looked at the floor, a mix of emotions raging through his head. Arthur grabbed his jacket and stomped out of the room, Linda trailing after him. "Where is he fucking going?" Tommo asked no one in particular. He, too, stormed out of the room, leaving everybody speechless and wondering what would happen next.

xviii. BABYSITTING

MASTERLIST

[the-technicolor-whiscash]

💍 Rose and 10 (or TenToo)

thank you so much for this one anon eighth grade me would be frothing at the mouth for an ask about these two

where they get married

I know, before anything else, that Jackie has to be there when they get married, because if she weren’t there and she found out they were getting married, she would slaughter them, so it has to be somewhere Jackie would be willing to go. I can imagine they don’t have a large wedding, so they don’t have a huge venue. Also somewhere they haven’t had a near death experience at. So maybe a nice botanical garden, or an uninhabited planet with gorgeous plant life. Somewhere with a view. Definitely an outdoor wedding.

when they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

They strike me as the types to have a spring or summer wedding, since you have the most outdoor options, but a winter wedding with lightly falling snow would be a delightful callback to the Christmas Invasion. Definitely an afternoon or evening wedding though. Rose is not a morning person.

what traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

I think they definitely do the borrowed/blue thing, with the “something borrowed” being something from Jackie or Pete. The Doctor claims the tardis falls under old, borrowed, and blue, but Rose keeps telling him it doesn’t work like that. Also I wanna see them throw rice if only cause I think that’s a fun sort of tradition. I feel like Rose would want the Doctor to try and bring some Gallifreyan traditions into the wedding, though frankly I don’t know what those would be. Also the ringbearer is K-9.

what their wedding cake looks like

Something traditional, but with lots of color. Maybe they have it marbled to look like space. And it’s gotta be chocolate.

….who smashes cake into whose face

Rose agrees not to smash cake into Ten’s face but Jackie immediately comes from left field and smashes it directly into his face. I would pay money to see that.

who proposed to who first

They both wanted to propose, but Ten was perpetually nervous about it, and Rose always liked going against society’s standards for women so she proposed first. Their wedding bands are Jackie and Pete’s, since Jackie has Pete’s from their world and Pete has Jackie’s from his.

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

Pete walks Rose down the aisle. She would’ve asked Jackie, but even though Pete was from the other world, he had become as much of a father to her as her own Pete would have been if he had lived. Happy to have her father back, Rose knew he’d be the one to walk her down the aisle.

what their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

Ten wanted to wear his normal suit, but Rose expressly forbade it, since something different would make the day feel a little more special. Instead, he wears a black tuxedo with blue accents, with just a little bit of glitter to make it pop. He wears a rose on his lapel, but managed to get Rose to at least agree to let him wear one of his more professional pairs of converse, since “they’re comfortable!”

Rose wears a white dress, but not without some flair. The skirt is just a little poofy and made of layers of tulle, and each layer has finely embroidered light pink flowers on it. Her veil continues the flowery theme, with white and light pink petals making up the headband thing, and absolutely with some glitter. Is there body glitter involved? Maybe! And, since the Doctor was wearing comfortable shoes, Rose also wore a pair of sneakers, since “Nobody will see them anyway.” I watch a lot of say yes to the dress I’m sorry

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have

I like the idea of blue and pink, but not in an oppressively heterosexual kind of way. However, if they didn’t care about the scheme matching their outfits (i’m a coordination kind of man sue me), I would love to see a scheme based off of the amber, earthy tones of the tardis interior. Their decor isn’t over the top, but it’s not minimalist by any means. Lots of appropriately colored streamers, flower arches, the whole nine yards.

what flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

I don’t know shit about flower language so we’re gonna ignore that. I like the idea of Rose having a lot of pale pink flowers in her bouquet to match her dress, flowers with character. Maybe they get flowers from another planet.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

They write their own vows, and everyone assumes that the Doctor’s gonna be long-winded and Rose is gonna be short and sweet. But instead, Rose has long, detailed, emotional vows, leaving much of the crowd in tears, recounting everything they’ve been through and how he changed her life. The Doctor is by no means succinct, but his is definitely shorter. He talks about how Rose came into his life at such a dark time, and how she helped him forge a new path, giving him hope for the future.

if anyone’s late to the wedding

I know this doesn’t agree with the timeline of anything (if we’re assuming they get married before the end of season 2) but I think it would be extremely funny if Jack decides to roll up late to the reception and ask them both for a dance.

who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other

Ok so Jackie is definitely one of the bridesmaids, and so is Sarah Jane, and I can imagine Rose would want some of her old friends to be bridesmaids too. Hell, Jackie can be the maid of honor, why not. The Doctor has Mickey be one of his groomsmen as well as Pete, and frankly I can’t remember any other male characters close enough to them to be at their wedding.

what their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing

Definitely something coordinated. The bridesmaids are wearing pink, and dresses that by modern standards are a lil gaudy but by late 2000′s standards were all the rage. The groomsmen... I dunno. Suits.

who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

Oh, there’s lots of speeches. Jackie gives an emotional one, Pete gives a short but sweet one, Sarah Jane gives one. Jack, if he decides to roll up, absolutely tries to flirt with the both of them, but in the end it all comes together in a heartwarming story of how he just knew the two of them were meant for each other.

who catches the bouquet( s )

One of Rose’s old friends. Rose feels bad for having left them all for so long, and is positively overjoyed that at least one of them can catch the bouquet. Maybe it means there’ll be a wedding in the future they can attend.

what their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

They have the serious ones, of course, the ones that you’ll frame and hang on your living room wall, but they have a lot of fun ones. Running into the sea, pretending to fall off cliffs, shooting aliens with laser guns. They take a number of pictures in the tardis, but the one they love the most is right outside it, with the tardis door open, framing them like an archway. They’re facing each other, staring into each others eyes, hands locked, and you can tell immediately that they’re so very much in love.

what sort of food they have at the reception

Stuff that’s a little fancy, but mostly tasty. The staples, like your fish option, your meat option, what have you. But there are french fries, which Rose wanted, jokingly saying it was because the Doctor had never paid for chips in his life.

who cries first during the ceremony

Jackie, out of happiness. But as things get going, just about everyone sheds a tear or two. Rose cries walking down the aisle, and the Doctor cries during his vows.

how wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

Since it’s not a big party, things don’t get overly rowdy, but there are absolutely some drunken shenanigans. It takes some effort to get him tipsy, but eventually, the Doctor does the YMCA on a table.

what their rings are like

Definitely Jackie and Pete’s rings. But, if they didn’t do that, I can imagine they’d have simple, practical bands, perfect for the fast-paced life they live.

what sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

I love the personalized candy idea so they definitely have those. I think they’d want to give out practical favors, like maybe engraved portable chargers (i know, i know, i’m messing up the timeline), but not without fun stuff like miniature nerf guns.

where they go for their honeymoon

Everywhere! Across space and time, they visit both their greatest hits and fun new places. They visit Miami Beach, watch fireworks on Mars, learn how to shoot bows and arrows on a planet out by Alpha Centauri.

something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

Ok if Jack shows up, he would absolutely be the memorable moment. I’m picturing him teleporting in mid-party or even mid-ceremony, bringing confetti with him. If you’re gonna crash a wedding, might as well make it memorable.

who officiates the ceremony

I think it would be really sweet if Sarah Jane officiated it, and she also seems like the one most likely to be legally able to do so. They could just hire a minister, but given the nature of their lifestyles, they probably wouldn’t want some rando being like “what kinda nonsense wedding is this”

what song their first dance is to

I’m gonna be honest. I have no idea. But I do know that their second dance HAS to be Tainted Love, since that was from their first real adventure together, and I love shit coming full circle.

Thanks for the ask! sorry it got so long, it’s a long ask meme lol and I have a lot of thots. I love tenrose and would officiate their marriage myself. actually i’m ordained so i could legally do it.

[valentines-in-london]

I Need Fire (Part 10)

Authors Note:  Thanks for your patience everyone with this chapter, I’ve been so busy and this one chapter in particular was giving me fits!  There will be a time jump in our next chapter!  I’m a broken record but all feedback, asks, replies, messages are all so appreciated!  Thank you everyone who does leave them! Word Count: 5,435 Warnings: smut (unprotected sex) Taglist: @freddiessmallnipples @triplehaitches @samanthadegaro @lauravic @oh-well1  If you’d like to be added please let me know!

Previous Chapter Master List

Chapter 10

Rayne and Tommy made their way up the walkway to Tommy's parents front door.  The house was so adorable, it was a one floor ranch type house with a large yard in the front and a well maintained flower bed. Even though Rayne still felt like she was going to throw up Tommy did his best to calm her raging nerves.  He placed a comforting hand on the small of her back softly brushing his fingertips in circles.  Tommy reached for the front door and turned the nob giving the door a push, no going back now.

"Mom?  Dad?  Athena?"  Tommy called out taking a step over the threshold.

As soon as his voice resonated through the house a woman came rushing down the hallway with a smile on her face and arms open.  "Tommy!  My baby."  The woman cried enthusiastically wrapping him up in her arms.  Tommy gave her a tight hug.

"Come on mom it's not like it's been that long since you saw me."  Rayne could tell he was a bit embarrassed by how affectionate his mother was being.  She swatted at him "It's been over a month!  You have kids of your own one day and tell me a month without seeing them isn't torture."

Tommy's mother was absolutely beautiful, he had told her that she was a former beauty queen and Rayne could see why.  She was statuesque with shining, long dark hair and a beautiful olive skin tone.  Even without hearing her accent you could tell she was from somewhere in the Mediterranean, she had an exotic look about her.

With that statement Tommy glanced over at Rayne with a giant smile on his face, he put his arm around his mother.  "Mom, I want you to meet my girlfriend Rayne Sykes."

"It's so nice to meet you Mrs. Lee."  Rayne smiled sticking out her hand to shake, Tommy's mom shook her head and wrapped Rayne up in a tight hug just as she had Tommy.

"Please call me Voula." She smiled generously.  "That's what my friends call me."

"Oh well then, it's nice to meet you Voula."  Rayne smiled.  

"Tommy you weren't lying, she's absolutely beautiful."  Rayne immediately felt her cheeks get hot under his mom's gaze.  "Tommy has told me so much about you, I feel like I know you already."

"Mom.  Calm down."  Tommy wrapped his arms around Voula.  "Don't scare her off.  She's skittish."

Tommy's dramatic statement got everyone to laugh.  Voula gave off an extremely warm motherly energy, Rayne knew all her intentions were good.  "Voula let them get in the house before they turn and walk right back out."  Came a good natured male voice, when he turned the corner Rayne saw a grey haired man with glasses. "Hello, I'm David"

He extended his hand and Rayne happily took his hand and shook it.  "Nice to meet you David."

"Tommy go put your bags down in your room and meet us in the kitchen.  I was just about to start putting out some food for lunch."  Voula pointed gestured down the hallway.  Tommy quickly turned to Rayne.

"Don't judge me for my room."  

"What?  Why would I judge you for that?"

Tommy's parents shared a laugh as Rayne and Tommy walked down the hall.  The walls were lined with photo frames filled with family photos.  Rayne tried to stop and look at them but Tommy kept urging her forward.  When they got to a closed door Tommy turned to her. "Nothing about this room has changed since I was like 15.  That's all I'm gonna say."

"Tommy come on open the door."  Rayne chuckled and when he finally did she saw what he was talking about. Above and next to Tommy's bed were posters, tons of posters.  She could make out Farrah Fawcett for sure, and lots of other girls in various stages of undress along with a lot of bands, Cheap Trick and Van Halen she could see immediately.  She turned to Tommy dramatically stating, "Wow Tommy who would've thought you were a fifteen year old boy once."

"Yeah, I've told my parents they don't have to keep the room like this anymore but they say it reminds them of me.  They make it sound like I died sometimes."  Tommy shrugged the bag off his shoulder and dropped it onto the carpeted floor.  Rayne walked closer to the bed looking at the photos closer.  She pointed to one right above where the pillows were.  

"How many nights did you get off to this picture of this chicks ass?"

"Um almost every night."  Tommy said enthusiastically causing Rayne to laugh.  "Can I tell you a secret though "

"Sure." Rayne smiled, all ears.

"I like your ass a lot better."  Tommy said at almost full volume while Rayne's hand shot up to cover his mouth.

"Tommy!"  She squealed with laughter.  Quickly Tommy scooped her up and threw her into the bed causing her laughter to continue. He climbed into the bed next to her smiling wide.  "You can't say stuff like that when your parents are like right down the hall!"

"Sure I can. Do you know how many times I heard the two of them fucking growing up?  What they have is true love just like us, you can't silence that."  Rayne was starting to put together some pieces into seeing how Tommy became who he was.  Rayne pushed herself off the bed and Tommy reluctantly joined her.

She glanced over at the photo next to the bed, poking fun at herself she said, "Now I wanna do about five hundred more squats at the gym."

"Babe trust me," Tommy said as his arm slid over the curve of her hip before grabbing her ass.  "Your ass is perfect.  Stay just the way you are.  You know I love watching it bounce up and down on my dick."

"Tommy!"  Rayne scolded. "And I wasn't saying my ass isn't good.  I know it is but I can also appreciate another."  As Rayne walked away she gave herself a playful smack.  "You want to give me a tour of the rest of the place?"

"I would rather give you a tour of the bed."  Tommy smiled.

"Well that's not going to happen."  Rayne chuckled.  "Now there were lots of pictures you rushed me past and I'd like to see them."

Twenty minutes later Tommy and Rayne made their way to the kitchen of his childhood home.  The space was extremely open and filled with sunlight.  Rayne wasn't Greek but it really reminded her of her grandmother's home.  The home she grew up in with her grandma was very traditionally Italian, and the most important room in the house was the kitchen and it seemed like it was the same here.  Rayne noticed a figure wearing leopard spandex with their head in the refrigerator.  "Athena!  Stop snacking! There's plenty of cheese and crackers."

"Mom I'm starving though!"  Athena popped her head out of the fridge.  Soon after her eyes fell onto Rayne.  "Wow your hair is really red."

Rayne chuckled softly, "Yeah.  I got teased quite a lot for it in school."

"I think it's really pretty,"  Athena smiled before walking up to Tommy and throwing a heavy punch to his bicep causing him to cry out.  "What's up big bro?"

"Fuck Athena! That hurt!"  Tommy cried rubbing at his arm.

"Thomas! Language." He dad barked.

"Sorry."  Tommy muttered under his breath before he moved over to the breakfast bar.  "Babe here sit down."

Rayne sat down on one of the high back chairs placing the bags in her hands down next to her. Voula was putting out plates of various meats, cheeses and crackers when she asked, "So Rayne how did you and Tommy meet?"

Rayne shot a look at Tommy and smiled before she answered.  "I actually went to a party the band was throwing at their apartment.  Well 'went' makes it sound like it was my idea, my best friend dragged me there.  And when I walked in Tommy was actually with another girl.  But later that night he and I started talking on the patio of the apartment."

She could see Tommy start to squirm a little bit at her retelling of the story.  He reached for a piece of cheese and popped it in his mouth before he spoke.  "I mean how could I not have talked to you?  Mom I'm telling you it was like I was magnetically drawn to her."  

Voula and David both shared a look but it was Athena who spoke, "Oh god here we go."

"What?"  Rayne questioned the younger girl.

"Well Tommy claims to be a hopeless romantic.  He's always looking for the one because of those two over there," she nodded toward her mom and dad, "He tends to speak in hyperbole."

"Tell me about it."  Rayne winked at Tommy giving him a playful nudge.  "And then he ended up finding out where I work and he shows up in the office with a huge bouquet of roses.  I was so embarrassed."

"No she was mad!"  Tommy laughed looking over at Rayne.  "I thought you were going to kill me."

"Trust me, I wanted to."  Rayne narrowed her eyes at Tommy.

Athena walked to the cabinet to grab a glass for a drink and said to her mother, "Yeah I like her."

"Mom we have gifts for everyone too.  Why don't you all open them?"  Tommy asked reaching for the bag at Rayne's feet placing it on the counter top.  He quickly began to remove presents from the bag.

Rayne smiled at Tommy, he loved giving gifts to his loved ones.  She watched as he interacted with his family while they opened their gifts, there was an air of such ease about him.  He was always carefree and happy, like a golden retriever, but this was still different. It was nice to be able to see.

"Tommy you don't have to get us anything!"  His mother said putting her hand over her heart.  Hm, where have I heard that before? Rayne thought to herself.

Tommy didn't respond, he simply handed his mother a small box that was the same color of the one he had given Rayne the day he got back from touring.  When his mother opened the box she gasped.  "These are beautiful."

She pulled a single diamond earring from the box, the sunlight shining into the room caught it so a rainbow was reflected onto the floor.  Tommy entwined his fingers with Rayne's.  "They're from both of us mom."

Rayne had asked Tommy about his family so that she could get gifts for them before she even knew that Tommy wanted her to spend Christmas with him.  He quickly assured her not to worry that what he got them would be from both of them, Rayne fought him on it but there was no point. "Thank you both.  I love them."

Tommy handed a large gift to his sister.  She happily took the gift from him.  "Thanks chicken legs."

"You got em too!"  Tommy pointed out quickly while shaking his head.  Athena didn't even acknowledge his response and simply began opening the gift.

"Oh my god!" She shouted once the record player was revealed.  Athena quickly jumped up and hugged Tommy before she wrapped her arms around Rayne giving her a tight squeeze.  "Thank you so much."

"I know how pissed you were that mom and dad let me take the record player when I moved out. So we wanted to fix that for you."  Tommy put his arm around Rayne.  It was still slightly foreign to Rayne hearing them referred to as "we" but it started to feel more and more right each time it was uttered.

"It's been torture not being able to listen to my music!"  Athena smiled as she rushed out of the room, Rayne assumed to set up the player.

When Tommy handed the final gift to his dad he leaned forward and said, "This is the gift I needed the most help with."  He nodded his head to Rayne and she wondered how she could've possibly helped Tommy with the gift.  It was a small but tall gift bag.  Tommy's dad looked in and smiled, when he pulled out the gift Rayne saw what it was, a bottle of whisky.  Rayne noticed the bottle immediately, it was the whisky she had the night she went to see Quiet Riot play.  One of the best she had ever tasted, Royal Lochnager.  "Rayne loves whisky and this is one of her favorites."

"Really? You're a whisky drinker?"

"I am I absolutely love it!"  Rayne replied.

"She gets mad at me when me or the band drink Jack Daniels because she says it tastes like piss."  Tommy have her shoulder a playful shove.

"Well then I know she has some sense, I've never liked Jack Daniels much myself.  I much more prefer ones from Scotland or Ireland."  His father took a glance at the label.

"Me too! I've never had a whisky from Scotland disappoint me."  Rayne said enthusiastically.

"Tell you what, it's a beautiful day outside.  How about we crack this open and go sit outside, we have a fire pit out there too if it gets too cold."  David stood up gesturing to the beautiful backyard.

"Sounds good dad."  Tommy smiled helping Rayne off her chair before he headed outside with his dad.

"Voula, is there anything I could help you with?"  Rayne stayed back seeing the older woman checking on whatever was in the oven.

"Oh no my love, go out with the boys!"  She smiled.  "Once dinner is ready, if you'd like to help me serve it that would be wonderful."

"Absolutely. I come from an Italian family, I'm not used to sitting around on a big holiday like this.  So if you need anything I’d be more than happy to help out."  Voula smiled wide and nodded her head before Rayne turned and made her way out on the back patio with Tommy and his dad.

“There she is.” David smiled from a table under a red umbrella, Tommy sitting next to him.

“I just wanted to make sure Voula didn’t want any help with dinner.”  Rayne gave the two men a smile before taking a seat across from David and next to Tommy.  David reached for the bottle of whisky that Tommy and Rayne had just given him and poured the amber liquid into three glasses.

David raised his glass and the two other joined him, “To my wonderful son, and his beautiful girlfriend.  I’m so happy you both could be here to spend the holiday with us.  Cheers.”

“Cheers.”  Rayne and Tommy both said before she added, “And thank you for having me.”

“Always,” David smiled after taking a sip of the whisky smiling wide once the flavor hit his taste buds.  He then nodded to Tommy.  “So Tommy was telling me you designed the jacket he was wearing today, it was snazzy.”

Rayne chuckled and Tommy responded “Good try pop.”

The three fell into easy conversation over the next few hours, even Tommy’s mother joined them after some time, although she didn’t partake in the whisky.  “Rayne, where are you from?  I can hear an accent when you speak.”

“Oh, I’m from the east coast, New Jersey to be exact.”  

“What brought you over to California?”  Voula asked, not in an interrigative way just naturally curious.

“Oh, well.  I just couldn’t be out on the east coast anymore.  I don’t have a great relationship with my family.”  Rayne answered honestly looking down into the glass.  “When my grandma died I left and never looked back.”

Tommy reached for Rayne’s hand.  He knew there was some baggage with Rayne and her family, she really only spoke fondly about her grandmother.  He had never pressed the issue or asked questions because he didn’t want to upset her.  If Rayne wanted to tell Tommy more about her upbringing he would let her do it on her own time.  “Mom don’t press the issue.”

“No it’s okay.” Rayne assured.  “My grandma raised me, my mother and father didn’t want me.  They both were in and out of jail on various different crimes and were too self absorbed and left me with her before they split.  I don’t even know where they are, or if they’re still alive.  But my grandma found me on her doorstep in the middle of a snow storm with nothing but a blanket covering me.  I would’ve died if she didn’t find me when she did.”

“Oh Sweetie.” Voula reached out and grabbed Rayne’s free hand.  “I’m so sorry.”

Rayne nodded her head, “I’m actually happy for it to have happened this way.  I’m not a sob story or a poster child for abandoned kids.  It taught me a lot about what really matters in life, what family means, and lit a fire under my ass to never be like my shitty parents.”

“Babe I had no idea.” Tommy scooted his chair closer toward Rayne.  His heart broke for his girlfriend, no one should have to go through what she just explained. It was the complete opposite of Tommy’s upbringing.  Her story made him see her in a completely different life.  He always knew she was strong and independent but never knew she basically had no choice other than to be that way.  

“No it’s okay Tommy really.  It wasn’t okay when I was a kid, but I’m at peace with it now.  It happened, I can’t change it, I can only grow from it.” Rayne smiled softly shrugging her shoulders.  She could feel that no one knew what to say next so she quickly said, “That’s why I don’t like to talk about it, people start to get all weird.”

Rayne knew sometimes addressing the awkward situation in the room could cut some of the tension and that’s what happened.  Tommy’s dad reached for the bottle of whisky and poured everyone a little more of it.  “Well I think I can speak for everyone when I say you’ve become quite an amazing woman.  I may have just met you but I have a good judge of character.”

“Thank you.” Rayne smiled at the older man as Tommy stood up and extended his hand to her.  “Hey, you wanna see the garage?”

Rayne was slightly taken aback by the drastic change of subject.  She looked up at Tommy confused before she replied, “Um sure?” She took his hand and they made their way over to the garage.  “Tommy I’m fine, you didn’t have to rescue me from the situation.”

“I know that.” Tommy fumbled over his words slightly.  “I just, man that was some heavy stuff right there.  And I know my mother, she’ll keep asking you questions and then she’ll dote on you hand and foot because that’s the kind of person she is.  She doesn’t want anyone to feel pain ever.”

“Now I wouldn’t mind being doted on hand and foot.”  Rayne winked at Tommy as he opened the garage door and Rayne leaned against the door frame.  “But Tommy seriously, I’m okay, no pain here.” She paused before continuing, “Not much pain… very little pain.”

Tommy leaned into her cupping her cheek in his hand.  “You’re the strongest person I know Rayne, and I love you.”

“I love you too Tommy.” Rayne wrapped her arms around him.

“Come on, I want to show you one of my favorite things to do in my free time, except you of course.” His joke caused Rayne to laugh. She pushed off the door frame to look inside the garage.  What she saw was an older motorcycle sitting in the center of the space. “You wanna go for a ride? Getting out on the bike always helped clear my head.”

“Alright, let’s go for a ride.”

“Yes!”  Tommy clapped his hands together.  “Mom, Dad we’ll be back!”

The ride on the bike with Tommy was exhilerating to say the least, she had never ridden a motorcycle before but how could she not love the feeling of the wind in her hair, the vibration of the bike between her legs and having to hang on tight to Tommy. It certainly allowed herself to find her center and brush off any memories of her family that had come up earlier in the day.  Once they had come back about a half hour later Tommy disappeared somewhere with his father and Rayne helped Voula with setting the table and getting the dinner ready to be served.

Later that night after dinner, dessert, coffee and some great conversation everyone was ready to turn in for the night.  Tommy and Rayne walked hand in hand back towards his room.  Tommy’s family was genuine and loving which settled any and all nerves Rayne may have had before walking in the door, even Tommy’s sister was a total sweetheart which was not a picture Tommy had painted for her previously.  As a matter of fact Voula told Rayne next Christmas she would have to cook some of her favorite Italian dishes for them.  For a completely foreign experience such as holidays with the boyfriend’s family she thought everything went as well as it possibly could. When they walked into his room Tommy shut the door behind them, locking it.

"After today I can see why you are the way you are." She smiled.

"What does that mean?"

"Well I can see where your energy comes from, why you're so fun loving and why you are a hopeless romantic.  You've got a pretty great example for it right here in this house."  Rayne smiled.  "And thanks for including me today Tommy."

"Always." He said softly taking a step toward her.

Rayne knew that look, his chocolate eyes grew dark and he looked like he wanted to devour her. In a hushed tone Rayne scolded him, "Tommy we can't!"

"Live a little."  Tommy smiled before leaning in and capturing Rayne's lips in a heated kiss.  She could sense his eagerness and it was all but confirmed when he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss.  He slid his arms around her back finding the button at her neck that held the dress up and made quick work to undo it.  "I just realized something."

Rayne was out of breath and in a daze when she responded, "What?"

"You're not wearing a bra."  Tommy said as he slid the dress down her arms and her waist until it eventually pooled at her feet.

"Well I really couldn't with a backless dress now could I?"  Rayne said confidently.  “Wouldn’t be very cute.”

"I should've done more throughout the day to make those nipples hard then."  Tommy grinned before he begun to kiss Rayne's neck.

"Tommy we are celebrating Christmas with your family today.  I don't think it's really the time for you to do that."  She giggled as he hit a particularly ticklish spot.

"Maybe you're right. Wouldn't want my dad to steal my girl.  He was a big time ladies man you know."

"I mean he does have better taste in whisky than you do.". Rayne teased before she felt Tommy give her a playful bite making her let out a muffled squeal.  “You better not be leaving marks on me or I’ll make you regret it!”

"You better be quiet, you wouldn't want my parents to hear would you?"  Tommy goaded while Rayne narrowed her eyes at him.

"Oh you think I can't be quiet?". Rayne asked.

"Baby I've had you almost every way a man could have a woman and not one of those times would I use the word quiet to describe you."  Tommy grinned.  "Trust me I'm not complaining."

"Well I think that sounds like a challenge."  Rayne stood on her tip toes and was almost eye level with Tommy all while unbuttoning his black shirt.  She kissed him and began pushing him back towards the bed until his calfs hit the bed frame causing him to clumsily fall onto the mattress.  Rayne straddled his thighs grinding her hips against his.

“Wait, wait.” Tommy said putting their kissing to a halt.  “I want you on top of me.”

“Am I missing something?  I am on top of you?” Rayne questioned sitting back slightly.  Tommy got that cocky grin on his face that Rayne knew well.  She didn’t know what was coming next but she had a feeling she’d like it.

“No I want you to ride my face baby.  I’m still craving some dessert.”  Tommy said as he ran his fingers up and down Rayne’s back.  Rayne was a little shocked at his revelation, they’d never done that before, but she knew how good Tommy was with his mouth.

“Okay.”  Rayne said softly giving Tommy a peck on the lips.  When she pulled away she quickly tugged on the waistband of his jeans fumbling with the button. “But first your pants have to come off.  Because if you’re gonna give me head, I’m gonna need something to put in my mouth to be quiet.”

“I like how you think.” Tommy raised his hips so Rayne could remove his jeans in one fluid motion.  Rayne got up off of Tommy and he laid himself down on his bed, as he situated himself she slid her red lace panties down her legs.  Tommy turned his head on the pillow and reached his hand out to her.  Taking it, Rayne got onto the bed her knees resting on either side of Tommy’s head.  As soon as she got settled Tommy hooked his arms around her thighs and pulled her pussy down toward his tongue.

“Oh fuck Tommy…” Rayne let out an unexpected moan not expecting him to be quite so eager.  Soon after she leaned forward and slowly began running her hand up and down Tommy’s length.  Rayne couldn’t help herself from rocking her lips against Tommy’s mouth while she licked him from base to tip before taking him fully in her mouth. When she did it was Tommy’s turn to let out a moan, she loved the noises he made when she gave him head, even the muffled ones he made tonight were lustful and encouraging.

Tommy kept at a steady pace licking and sucking Rayne’s clit as he was encouraged by the vibrations of Rayne’s moans against his cock.  Rayne felt herself on the edge of orgasm when she pulled off of Tommy’s length with a pop.  In a hushed whisper she cried, “Tommy, I want you inside me.”

She soon felt Tommy give one final long lick against her slit before he released his anchoring grip on her ass.  Rayne slowly lifted her leg and rolled onto the bed next to Tommy, he leaned in and crashed his lips against hers.  Tasting herself on his tongue was intoxicating and turned her on even more. Tommy opened the drawer next to his bed while Rayne peppered kisses along his back.  She heard as a drawer shut, and another open and shut again, “Fuck.”

“What?”  Rayne questioned rubbing her nails along Tommy’s arm.

“I always had condoms in here, and they’re gone.  And I didn’t bring any with me.”  Tommy whispered the frustration gripping from his voice.  Rayne sat up next to him wrapping her arm around him from behind.  “I’m sorry babe.”

“Tommy it’s fine. I’m on the pill.”  Rayne whispered against his ear before playfully biting his earlobe.  Tommy quickly turned to face her.

“What?  Are you serious?”  He asked eyes wide.

“Yes, I’ve never had sex without a condom before but, I want you.”  Rayne purred before kissing his lips.  Tommy pushed Rayne back on the bed, her head resting on a pillow. Sitting on his haunces Tommy took his cock in his hand and ran the tip up and down Rayne’s slit.  “One last time babe.  Are you sure?”

Rayne nodded her head and with that assurance Tommy pushed himself fully into her.  She threw her head back against the pillows as Tommy braced himself with his arms on either side of Rayne’s head.  He began to pump in and out of her and Rayne pulled him into a kiss to keep from crying out.  Pulling away from her Tommy whispered, “Baby you feel so good.”

“Harder Tommy, harder.” She said in a hushed cry, he felt amazing too.  There was something taboo about what they were doing.  And the feeling of there being nothing between them was intoxicating.  “Don’t stop Tommy.  I’m so fucking close.”

Tommy reached down for Rayne’s left leg and rested it on his shoulder before he leaned into her and began pistoning his hips against hers.  The only sounds in the room were their pants and the sound of skin on skin, Rayne could feel herself climbing to the peak of ecstacy and moved her hips to meet Tommy’s thrusts.  She buried her face in his neck and cried out when she came while Tommy kept vigorously pumping into her until he let out a final grunt and stilled his motions.  Rayne felt his cum inside of her and moaned at the foreign sensation.  Tommy lifted his head up smiling down at Rayne.  “That was incredible.”

“It was.”  Rayne smiled leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Hang on I’ll be right back.”  Rayne could only nod and let out a soft cry when she felt him pull out of her.  She watched as he threw on a pair of boxers and walked out of the room.  Moments later he returned with something in his hand Rayne couldn’t make out in the dark.  “I brought a towel.”

“What for?” Rayne asked momentarily confused until Tommy gently spread her legs and placed the warm cloth over her pussy.

“Well we made a bit of a mess.  I’m not gonna lie it looks so fucking good.”  Tommy smiled down at her as he started wiping away evidence of their shared orgasm. Rayne blushed slightly as Tommy tenderly cleaned her.  Every now and then she’d let out quiet moans as she was still extremely sensitive after their intimacy.  It was a strangely intimate act and something Rayne didn’t expect from him. “You’ve really never done that before?”

Rayne shook her head, “Not without a condom.  I never trusted anyone enough.”

Tommy grinned, “Well I’m honored.  I’ve never done it before either, was too afraid I’d catch something, or get someone pregnant. Thanks for trusting me.”

“I really do love you Tommy.”  Rayne opened her arms to him as he set the towel in the laundry basket in the room and laid down next to her.

“I love you too Cherry.”  Tommy nudged her nose with his own.  “Remember when you said we wouldn’t have sex in my parents house?”

“Shut up Tommy.” Rayne chuckled next to him.

“I’m just saying! I told you my favorite thing is watching you try new sexual things after you say it’ll never happen.  And I’m honored that you trust me enough to try new things with me.”

“Mmhm.”  Rayne moaned with a smile on her face.  “I still miss your dirty talk, so I don’t know if trying to be quiet during sex is exactly a kink of mine but it was fun.”

“Oh so you like dirty talk huh?”

“Yep.  When you were on tour I’d close my eyes and think back on all the dirty things that mouth has said to me while I played with myself.”  Rayne smiled while Tommy groaned.

“Oh fuck me!”  He placed a hand over his eyes.

“I just did.” Rayne kissed his lips before snuggling closer toward him.

“Tommy?”  Rayne whispered as she played with his hair.

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever wonder if it’s possible to be this happy forever?”  Tommy could hear a tinge of sadness in her voice.

“Why would you say that?”

“No reason.  It’s just, sometimes this happiness feels like it couldn’t possibly last forever.  Like we’re climbing up to the precipice and we’re just waiting for the bottom to drop out.”

“You know Rayne,” Tommy shifted under her. “You do deserve a lifetime of happiness and not every swell of happiness means that a crash is just around the corner.”

“I know, I’m working on believing that Tommy.  I promise.”  She smiled before closing her eyes and falling asleep in his arms.  She hoped she could stay in this cocoon of joy forever, but a voice in the back of her head told her something was coming that would try to take their joy from them.

Take me to the next chapter...

---

So there we have it!  What are we thinking of this chapter?  Like I said for some reason this one was a more difficult one to write.  Like I said I adore and love feedback so if you would like to please do!  We are gonna have a time jump in the next chapter to the Shout At The Devil era/tour :)

[leggomylino]

❧

Just after he died, he sat up. 

You stare at your game, completely dumbfounded.

What the heck?! I know I just killed him with that last attack! I totally crushed the sorry little--

“Ding!”

“Ahh!”

You nearly drop your DS in a state of panic.

“What? Who? Where?!”

“Ding! Ding!” 

Slowly you look toward the only source of light in your room, other than your game screens and whatever’s managing to peek in through your curtains. With a shaky breath of past anxiety you crawl across the cream-colored carpet of your bedroom to lift your phone off the desk, stopping next to a grape juice stain that was 100% Han Jisung’s fault.

Speaking of Han Jisung...

Crap, you’d completely forgotten about him! You rush to the window, opening it just as a rock comes flying for your face, having to duck to avoid a black eye or a chipped tooth.   This guy. You peer down at him from your second story window.

“What the heck are you doing?! You almost killed me!” “Killed you?! I was aiming for the window not you!” You have to stifle a laugh at seeing him soaking wet from the automatic timed sprinklers in the neighbor’s yard, but it doesn’t go so well.

“Ha-ha, yes, laughing at my misery just like the rest of them. Hyunjin and Jeongin totally have corrupted you, liar…” You roll your eyes before throwing him a Sailor Moon blanket that could use a good run through the wash anyway, traces of a smile still evident on your face. “Geez, quit being such a whiny baby. I’m coming down, okay? Meet me out front!” “You expect me to trek back through no-man’s land?! What if my computer gets━”

That’s the last thing you heard, since you’d already rounded the corner on your way down the hall. You make a quick job of retying the messy bun of your I-may-or-may-not-have-been-brushed-in-the-past-twenty-four-hours hair before sliding down the rail of your staircase like a pro and swinging the front door open. Han meets you with a sour look on his face. He and Sailor Moon are both soaking wet, but somehow Luna and his laptop had managed to make it out unscathed. “I’m telling on you.”

“To who?” you laugh, stepping aside to let him in. “Hurry up and wait right here. I’ll go get you some fresh towels.”

He steps inside while his sour face turns quizzical, then slightly amused. “Hurry up and wait right here? The heck does that mean?”

“It means what it says! I mean, what it sounds like! Just…” You lock the door behind him, and he smiles. “How many cups this time?”

“......”

“C’mon, (y/n),” he chides, slinging off his pack at the door and tossing the wet blanket beside it. “How many?” Your brows furrow. “You’re not gonna tell on me, are you?”

His smile is nothing less than mischievous. “I dunno. Am I?” “Mrgrgr…” You march off to get him those fresh towels, your hostile movements warning him not to follow you, which he only laughs at and does anyway. ‘Cause that’s just the kind of jerk Han Jisung is. Smh.

The towels in the dryer are still warm from whence the cycle ended some hour and twenty minutes ago, so you toss him a couple of those and a smaller hand towel for his face or computer, whichever he decides to use it on. The pleasing scent of ginseng and honey-lavender dryer sheets wafts over your face and fills the small laundry room as you pull yourself out of the metallic chamber. “So what’s going on? Did you really come all the way over here just because you’re mad about the group text?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but the doorbell rings before he has a chance to answer. 

You blink towards the sound as realization crosses your face. “Wait right here. I’ll be right back!” You have to be careful as you scurry on sock-clad feet across the honey-brown floorboards to the front door again, passively on the lookout for any water Han tracked on his way in. You can’t help but smile with excitement as you fling the door open. You frown. So does Felix when he sees the look on your face. “Wow. Someone’s excited to see me.” “You’re not Jaemin,” you state dumbly. He manages to keep a completely stoic face as he shakes his head.

“No, I’m not. Who’s that?”

“My brother. I’m expecting him to come visit me soon. He does every Sunday.”

“I see.” He’s looking down at his phone, then pockets it a moment later whilst giving you a cheesy smile. “Are you gonna let me in? I’d hate to meet the same fate as Han. Especially because I just upgraded my phone for the new game release tomorrow.” You do your best to cast away your disappointment as you let him inside. “Yeah, whatever, come join the party.” You stick your head out the door to check left, then right, ensuring no other thots were left unaccounted for before locking up again. “You got other company or somethin’?” he asks, eyeing Han’s things.    “Nah, just Han. He stopped by like five minutes ago. He’s in the laundry room drying off.” You begin making your way back with Felix following a few steps behind you. “So what are you doing here? Also show me your phone, I wanna see! Wait, hold on, why do you need a new phone for Ultrascape? It’s not an app game, they’re only releasing it for Xbox and PS4. Also--” Felix begins to laugh a bit, eyeing you from above his phone screen that’d mysteriously found its way back into his hands. “Someone’s had coffee today. How many cups?” You groan as you break the threshold into the laundry room. “Seriously, you too? Why can’t you guys both just leave me alone…Hyunjin and Innie never give me a hard time about my drinking habits.” They both find amusement in your pouting, Han having just finished drying his laptop and tossing the towel into the hamper. “Wow, so you really do like them better than us. We can’t help it if it’s incredibly entertaining to make fun of your addiction problem.” “I wouldn’t say incredibly entertaining, but...yeah, pretty much.” the Australian boy agrees, giving a little shrug. He begins to mumble and ramble things into his shiny new phone screen. “Also it’s...y’know, kinda cute.” Something exotic washes over your cheeks and paints a picture of a sunny spring day on your insides, but you’re able to thankfully dismiss it as so thirty seconds ago as the doorbell rings yet a third time. This time when you open the door, you’re able to uphold the sheer joy on your face at seeing Jaemin smiling down at you with a drink carrier in one hand and a bouquet of lilies in the other. The ever-so-slight ombre tints in the roots of his light-dyed hair remind you of just how long it’s really been since you last saw him, even if it was only just a week. “I am Li-ly~ Of the va-lley~” he starts to sing, and you laugh, taking the drink carrier and giving him a cheesy wink. You sing back to humor him.    “Of the quiet peaceful valley over there~”

You fling your hand out into a random direction off yonder, and you both burst into a fit of giggles like it’s the funniest thing in the world. The moment you open the door to Jaemin’s weekly Sunday visits, every time, no matter what’s going on, the collection of stressful events and uninvited anxiety in your life just seems to melt away into nothing; one of the many things you loved about your brother. But Han Jisung doesn’t seem to get it, given the blank expression on his face as he’s staring the two of you down from ten feet away. He doesn’t say anything either, only making things that much more awkward. “Umm…” You put on another grin as you gesture to your brother like a Nobel prize, since he may as well be anyway. “Han, this is my brother Jaemin. This is Han Jisung, one of my friends I was telling you about.” you explain. Jaemin’s smile is genuine as he gives the young man a polite nod, the other doing the same in return. “A pleasure. Thank you for looking after (y/n) in my absence. I know she can be a handful the way she’s always running into things.” “You mean like trouble? Yeah, she does that a lot. You should have seen her when we introduced her to Minecraft. But yeah, the pleasure’s mine as well.” “Minecraft?” Jae gives you a strange look above his normally sunny disposition, to which you reply with a playful shove and a roll of your eyes.    “Yes Jae, Minecraft. Come on, you have to at least know that one.” “It’s not that I’ve never heard of it before. I’m just surprised you’re letting the season pass for League of Legends that I just bought you go to waste.” “I’m not!” you protest, stamping down your foot. “I just played a few rounds with Felix and Jeongin the other day!”

He shakes his head, tsking. “A few rounds...a hundred and eighty dollars down the toilet.” “Not so! We won! And I even...” Your voice trails off again as you look around, suddenly realizing something━ really someone━ is missing. You shoot Han a curious glare. “Where’s the other thot?” He’s engrossed in his phone like Felix was when he showed up at the door a bit ago, raising his eyebrows to show that he heard you. “Hm? Oh, he left about two seconds after you ran out of the other room. He got an emergency call from work.” “Oh…” You don’t mean to sound so disappointed, but it just comes out that way, and you can only hope the others didn’t notice. “Do you know what he came here for?” He mimics the action from before. “...Mmm...yeah, just a sec…” Just a sec quickly becomes a full minute, then two. You know the look on his face all too well. He’s definitely playing Fortnite. That’s what I get for giving him the WiFi password…

You grab Jaemin’s arm, pulling him away into the kitchen. Thankfully he doesn’t ask any questions. “Thanks for the coffee,” you say, pulling out your favorite particular beverage from the carrier after placing it on the island. Jaemin chuckles while searching the cabinets for a vase to put the flowers in. “It’s decaf, just so you know. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls after 3 pm, especially in your condition.” You frown at that last remark, but it doesn’t compare to the dreaded aura you send towards the thick stack of cards you failed to notice he’d been holding in his back pocket with a few smaller ones in the flowers. “What’s all that?” you ask; but you already know the answer. He’s eyeing you with warmth and delight, making it that much worse. “Why, this is your fan mail! I’ve got a tote bag full of them out in the car, but I just picked these up from the post-office on my way over. I thought they were for me because they were addressed in my name, but I think the girls must have gotten confused on who to address it to.” You scoff. No, they were just bold. Here’s the thing about your fan mail: It wasn’t for you. It was never for you. 

It was for Jaemin. Your supposed “fans” couldn’t give less of a hoot about you or your health. It was your strikingly handsome, fashionable, polished, boyfriend-material brother they were after. The moment your friends...who were never really your friends to begin with...the moment they found out you had a brother, and that that brother was Na Jaemin, well, they all about had a meltdown of lovesick heartache and went batsh*t crazy. It was then you realized they’d never really been your friends at all, that they’d just heard some petty rumor that you and Jae were dating, and when he cleared it up that oh, no, that’s only my sister, they just started using you to get closer to him. Word had spread over the time of your departure from the university, and after moving back home within the first two weeks one of those Mean Girls (probably Regina) thought it’d be a swell idea to send you a get-well card in order to get under your brothers good graces. And because your sweet caring brother also had to be such a gullible dumbass, he had to go and tweet the word out that it’d be so great to see more of these! thinking those girls actually cared. 

They cared alright, but not about you. So now you were getting mounds and mounds of these petty fake Get better! We’re always think of you! Hellmark greeting cards. And ironically, they were what fed your anxiety as of late. You open your mouth to finally tell Jaemin what’s really going on, because surely if he wasn’t getting it by now and the girls were getting this desperate it’d gone on long enough, but as you turn your eyes up to him from staring into the onyx marble counter-top something thin and sharp pierces a nerve in your gut. It’s Jaemin. You didn’t notice it before when he was standing so close, but now as you’re seeing him from across the kitchen, beneath the recessed lighting, he’s...thin. So thin. He’d always been slim, but never thin. He turns to the side, and you’re able to see his face now. His skin is a strange, almost translucent color, and there are deep purple blueberries under his eyes, the bags weighed down with hours and hours of lost sleep piled on by stress that shows in the poor coloration of his face. He’s still an attractive guy, of course, but...he looks like he’s auditioning for the role of Death. “Jaemin?” you say instead. Your voice comes out wavered, distorted, unsure. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” He turns his head all the way towards you, and you feel like an idiot for not noticing as soon as you opened the door. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiles. “Why do you ask?”

Bless his heart, he’s putting on that fake smile for your benefit. You can feel your protective mom instincts winding into submission, the ones that usually only kick in when Jeongin’s around or that time Jaemin got the flu. “I dunno, you just look really...tired.” You stand. “Do you wanna lie down? I can take care of the flowers. I’m pretty sure the guest room is still clean if━ or maybe if you wanna crash of the couch for a bit━” His laughter cuts you off, and he shakes his head while waving a hand at you. “I’m fine, really. I’m always tired, you know this. Besides,” He finds a clear blue vase, carefully arranging the flowers inside and filling it with water. “You’re the one that needs to be resting. Go make yourself comfortable in the living room and pick out something for us to watch.” “......” “...What? Did you want to play a game instead?”

❧

[𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 (𝚢/𝚗) 𝚍𝚘?   𝙵𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝   𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢   𝙱𝚊𝚐 ➤ 𝚁𝚞𝚗 ]

“......” You shake your head, wandering out into the living room.

❧

[𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎? ➤ 𝚈𝚎𝚜    𝙽𝚘]

[𝚂𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐… 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛…]

[(𝚢/𝚗) 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎.]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚢 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎  → 𝙽𝚊 𝙹𝚊𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗 |  [𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛!𝙹𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚡 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚐𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛!𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡]

[ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙱/𝚈 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 //  ➤ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙰/𝚇 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 ]

[blazerina]

A Special Day (Sean x MC)

A Special Day (Sean x MC)

Author’s Note: We are going way back with some Sean x Taylor fluff right here.  I came across this unfinished story this afternoon and knew I needed to finish it. I miss Sean and ES a lot – such great inspiration and depth of character in those books. To all my Sean stans out there – may this bring a smile to your face today. Hope you enjoy! xoxo

Summary: Sean and Taylor celebrate a special day (vague enough for you?! Just read it.)!

Word Count: 1289

--

It had been a great day. Even though they had gotten up at the normal time and gone through their everyday routine of a quick breakfast, rushing to get ready, and throwing coffee into a travel mug for the commute to work, Taylor and Sean always loved this day.  

The night before, Sean brought home Taylor’s favorite flower – yellow tulips. They enjoyed a quiet dinner, just the two of them, with their favorite bottle of champagne that they only splurged on once a year.  Throughout the day, Taylor continued to find cards and notes in random places. When she opened her planner, there was a sticky note with today circled in red.  A card had been waiting for her when she got in her car and another embarrassingly-large bouquet of flowers arrived at her office.  Since Sean and Taylor worked at the same high school, almost everyone else was aware of their special day too.

They usually did a good job of avoiding each other while at work. They both wanted their own professional identities and their schedules hardly ever matched up enough for them to truly be together the entire day.  As a counselor, Taylor usually had meetings before and after school and Sean had practice, so it was easy to “do their own thing” even though they were in the same place.  

Sean wasn’t the only one doing nice things for his partner; Taylor had organized a “guys night out” for him and some of his closest friends, and had managed to save up enough money to have the yard at home taken care of for a few months so Sean didn’t have to do it. She knew he’d pout and act as though he’d miss it because he usually loved yardwork, but he’d also enjoy the extra time he’d have back in his schedule.  She planned to also detail his car while he went for his long morning run this weekend and she knew that would make him happy because other than her, he was most proud of his car.  She had written him a long letter, but she was saving that for tonight.  This afternoon, she was planning to leave work early to get home in time to make Sean’s favorite chocolate cake for dessert. She told him she wouldn’t have time to make it this year because of a district-wide meeting, and she played it off pretty well.

Rushing home as soon as she could, she got to work on the cake wanting it to be completely finished by the time Sean got home.  While the cake was baking in the oven, the house smelled like heaven.  Taylor had been in such a reflective mood, reminiscing on her relationship and time with Sean. She made herself a cup of coffee and took her journal out to the back porch of their house, her favorite place.  Folding her legs beneath her, she held the warm cup of coffee in her hands and looked out into the yard. At the trees. At the grass.  At the blue sky.  Easily, she let her mind slip back into the panic she felt in La Heurta. The nights when she thought she’d never see these things again. When she’d never know the joy of getting to live a normal life with the man she loved.  Even after all the therapy, all the counseling, all the time crying in bed with Sean, the nights asking him to stay awake with her because she didn’t want to sleep…she remembered his voice in her ear…

“Sleep.  I’ll fight off the bad dreams if they come to get you…”

She closed her eyes, so thankful for his presence in her life.  Quickly, she got up and went back inside the house, finding the attic door in the hallway and pulling the ladder down from the ceiling.  As she climbed up into the dusty, cramped space, her eyes searched for a specific box. It wasn’t big, more like medium sized, and was sealed with green tape.  She remembered labeling it “keepsakes” when they moved into their home a few years ago, now.  Her face broke out into a smile when she found it. Hurriedly, she grabbed the box and descended the ladder, expecting the timer for the cake to go off any minute now.  

Taylor gasped audibly when she felt hands on her hips and behind while she stepped down off the ladder.

“District-wide meeting?” Sean raised an eyebrow, smirking mischievously at her, not removing his hands from the top of her rear, a little below her waist.

Taylor shrugged, obviously disappointed, but also extremely happy to see him. She practically leapt into his arms as he caught her, easily in his broad frame. She let out a content sigh as she nuzzled into his neck and then took a deep breath.

The timer on the oven rang out throughout the house and Taylor dropped the keepsake box at Sean’s feet as she ran to get the cake.

“Did you really mean to get this box?” Sean asked, placing in on the table as he inhaled the scent of chocolate that hung in the air.

Taylor stared at the cake after placing it on the counter and turned around to look at Sean, giving his question a long and thoughtful pause instead of an answer.

“You know what? I actually did.” She responded, putting a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Walking to the table, Taylor continued to stare at the box as if there was a monster or something scary inside of it; something she didn’t want to get too close to.

Sean crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching her.  “Babe.” He hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

Taylor nodded and gently reached for the box, pulling slowly at the green tape to expose what was inside.

“I know, I know…” She said as she dug through the random notes and cards and dried flowers.

“I always tell you I hate going through this stuff because it brings back bad memories as well as good…” She trailed off, as her eyes lit up and a huge grin spread across her face.

Sean watched her carefully, worried about her and any reactions she may or may not have to what she found. He had been so protective of her over the years; worried constantly about any memories or feelings that may trigger La Huerta.  They were in a really good place and he did not want anything to jeopardize that.

“It’s appropriate, isn’t it?” Taylor asked, turning slightly to face Sean. “Today.  Our anniversary.  I had to find these!”

From the box, Taylor pulled out two pink ribbons. They were weathered and fraying on the ends, one more faded than the other.  She took a deep breath and lifted them to her nose where she could smell them, smell the island, and remember.

“It is.” Sean nodded, slowly approaching the table and not taking his eyes off of her.

He smiled ruefully, looking at the ribbons, feeling a tidal wave of memories and emotions wash over him.

“Hand-fasting day.” She smiled, reaching for the same ribbon Sean was holding.

“We had know idea what our future would look like that day…”

“Or if we even had a future.” Sean added.

“I know…” Taylor nodded. “But I’m so glad we did.”

Taylor and Sean spent the rest of the evening enjoying a home cooked meal, special chocolate cake for dessert and soaking in every ordinary moment together. Both of them realized that they came close more than once to not having the opportunity to share life together or to be alive at all and that made every day, not just this one, special.

[swanqueeneverafter]

What Dreams May Come, Pt.25

Henry's Dreamscape. Kingdom Of Valencia. Night. (Gareth crosses the room to his bed and peels back the covers to reveal Richard's severed head.) Gareth: "Aah!" Richard: “You did this to me!” Gareth: (Waking from his nightmare:) “Aah!” (The chamber door opens and Sid runs in.) Sid: “Shh! Are you trying to get me killed?!” Gareth: “I saw his head! It was right there! And it was giving me that look.” Sid: “My King, I think I know what's going on. Richard was your friend. And, yes, you took his throne and his queen and his kingdom and his favorite shirts and his weekly bridge game...” Gareth: “Oh, get on with it!” Sid: (Sitting on the bed:) “But the fact you feel bad about it is a good thing. It means you're actually, surprisingly, human.” Gareth: “Maybe I do feel guilty. I do miss the old bastard.” Sid: “Look, there was one other thing my mother used to do for my dreams. (Sid brings his hands up close to Gareth’s head and begins to make motions as if removing the bad dreams from the King’s mind:) ♪ Good dreams only ♪ ♪ Good dreams only ♪ ♪ Bad dreams out of his head ♪ ♪ It's time tonight ♪ ♪ For dreams of fright ♪ ♪ To leave this little boy's bed ♪ Gareth: “There's one more in there.” Sid: “Oh.” (Sid ‘removes’ the last dream then turns and leaves the room as Gareth settles back down to sleep.)

The Land Without Magic. New York. Central Park. (Huddled under a blanket with a bouquet of flowers in her lap, Regina smiles as the horses pull their carriage along the park.) Emma: "So, what do you think?" Regina: (Turning her attention back to her wife:) "Oh, Emma. This has got to be without doubt, the cheesiest thing we've ever done." Emma: "What? I thought you'd love this." Regina: (Shaking her head, laughing:) "No." Emma: "But what about your carriage?" Regina: (Scoffs:) "My carriage was a lot more refined than this. It had a roof and walls and leather seats. What we are currently riding in, is a cart." Emma: (Pouts:) "Well, I'm enjoying it." Regina: "Oh come on. A peddler on his way to market would think this was a downgrade. (Turning to study Emma's face:) You're not serious, are you?" Emma: "Actually... no. (To the driver:) Hey, you can drop us off anywhere here. (To Regina:) I made a bet with Henry that I could get you to ride in one of these. He knew you'd hate it." Regina: (Relieved:) "That's because I raised him to have a sense of class." Emma: "Yeah, yeah. (Wrapping her arms around Regina:) Now smile for the picture, Henry won't believe me without proof." (Placing her hands on Emma's arm and giving her brightest smile, Regina laughs as the driver takes their photograph.) Henry’s Dreamscape. Kingdom Of Valencia. Market Day. (Sid and King Gareth walk through the various vendors, talking.) Sid: “There's something different about you lately. I mean, you've only punched a couple of people today, and I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like you took a bath. What's going on?” Gareth: “All right, I'll tell you. I think I'm in love.” Sid: “Oh, Gareth, that's wonderful. Is it the executioner's daughter? You know, the one who hangs on their legs if the noose doesn't quite do the trick.” Gareth: “Loretta?” Sid: “Yeah.” Gareth: “She is something. Heavy as an iron pot. But she don't compare to my girl. There she is.” (Gareth points up to where Madelena stands, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers in her hands.) Queen Madelena: (Waving:) “Hey, Gare! Thanks again for the flowers.” Sid: “Queen Madelena? But we agreed she's the worst!” Gareth: “Yeah.”

The Bottle Yard. A Short Time Later. (Sitting at a table together, Sid tries to make Gareth see sense.) Sid: “So, hey, have you, um... By any chance told Queen Madelena how you feel about her?” Gareth: “Gonna do it tonight.” Sid: “Great. Or... and just thinking out loud here... What if... What if you don't?” Gareth: “What are you trying to say?” Sid: “There's something I need to say, but before I do, have you ever heard of the Bro Code?” Gareth: “Is that a black thing?” Sid: “It means, ‘what's said between guys stays between guys.’ Look, don't fall in love with the queen. She's bad news. Think about her last three relationships. They ended in betrayal, exile, and murder. She will rip your heart out, and I don't mean symbolically.” Gareth: (Sighs:) “Yeah, you're right. But she's so skinny and mean. It just blinded me. Thanks for having my back.” Sid: “Hey, it's what friends are for.” Gareth: “Friends? You think we're friends?” Sid: “Well, I'm a little worried that if I give you the wrong answer, you'll kill me right where I sit, but... Yeah, I've come to consider you a friend.” Gareth: (Raising his tankard:) “Well, to friends, then.” The Charmings' Dreamscape. The Dark Palace. (Snow and Prince Charming enter the palace looking for the Evil Queen.) Snow White: "In here.” Prince Charming: (Sword drawn:) “Where is she?” Evil Queen: (Appearing behind them:) “Looking for me? Snow White. I haven't had a chance to congratulate you on that little bundle brewing inside.” Prince Charming: “That's far enough. You should make it easy on yourself and come with us now.” Evil Queen: “Oh, you mean like this?” (The Evil Queen conjures a fireball into her hand and the Charmings begin to sing.) Charmings: ♪There's a powerful magic when two hearts are one ♪ ♪ A powerful magic bright as the sun ♪ (The Evil Queen stands holding the fireball already bored of the situation:) ♪ Goodness will triumph, and evil's undone ♪ ♪ When you dare to heed love's call ♪ ♪ 'Cause love is the most powerful magic of all ♪ (The Queen throws the fireball at them, but misses:) Evil Queen: ♪ Down with love, down with hope ♪ ♪ Don't need blind faith to cope ♪ ♪ Or inspiring songs in my heart ♪ ♪ Got the magic I need ♪ ♪ For my darkest of deeds ♪ ♪ Love at times can entrance ♪ ♪ But love doesn't stand a chance ♪ ♪ No, no, love doesn't stand a ch- ♪ (The Queen attempts to conjure another fireball but finds she can’t:) Charmings: ♪ It's a powerful magic when two voices soar ♪ ♪ We're evermore hopeful for what lies in store ♪ Evil Queen: ♪ Once I loved, and once I've learned ♪ ♪ Love is weakness that will leave you burned ♪ Charmings: (Closing in on the Queen:) ♪ Nothing will stop us ♪ ♪ No, not anymore ♪ ♪ With our daughter's fate at stake ♪ Evil Queen: ♪ Happy endings you will see ♪ Charmings:  ♪ Seems we found our lucky break  ♪ Evil Queen: ♪ But the happy end will end with me ♪ Charmings:  ♪ Now let our song show the powerful magic ♪ Evil Queen:  ♪ Love doesn't stand a chance ♪ (Prince Charming holds his sword to the Queen’s throat:) Charmings: ♪ We can make ♪

Evil Queen: ♪ Got you where I want you now ♪ ♪ Your spell will soon be broken ♪ ♪ Let us see how strong you are ♪ (Reaches behind her and pulls out a box:) ♪ When everything is spoken ♪ (Opens the box and a shaft of light envelops the Charmings, taking away their song, but they attempt to sing anyway:) Charmings: “There's a powerful magic-” Prince Charming: “Snow, the song is gone.” Snow White: “I don't understand.” Evil Queen: “What's there to understand? I won.” Prince Charming: “You took our song from us.” Evil Queen: “Oh, not just yours. Everyone's.” Snow White: “How?” Evil Queen: “With a little something I happened to find in my vault. Green isn't my color, but it seems to have done the trick.” Prince Charming: “No!” (He attempts to attack from behind, but the Queen disarms him with a wave of her hand.) Evil Queen: “I guess this proves love isn't the strongest magic of all. Enjoy what little time you have left as a family.” (The Queen waves her hand again, sending the Charmings back to their castle.) Royal Castle. Bed Chamber. Prince Charming: “Snow, are you okay?” Snow White: (Storming out to the balcony:) “What do you think? (Speaks to the heavens:) What happened? The wish should've worked. You felt how powerful that song was.” Prince Charming: (Notices movement in the sky:) “Snow, look.” (The Blue Fairy appears on their balcony beside them.) Snow White: “Blue. You granted the wish.” Prince Charming: “But it didn't work. The Evil Queen took the song from us.” Blue Fairy: (Chuckles:) “No one can do that. It's still inside you. It's still inside everyone. But I'm afraid its magic was never meant for you to use against the Evil Queen.” Prince Charming: “Then, who was it for?” Blue Fairy: (Waves her wand towards Snow:) “Emma. You wished that she could have a chance for a happy ending. And now, with everyone's song in her heart, she will.” Snow White: “I don't understand. Why? I mean, how does that help her?” Blue Fairy: “One day, she will face a battle like no one has ever faced before. And I'm afraid she will have to face it alone.” Snow White: “But she won't be alone. She'll have the voices of the people who love her inside of her heart.” Blue Fairy: “In the morning, we'll have forgotten that we ever sang in the first place. Not even the Evil Queen will remember. That way, the songs will remain safe.” Prince Charming: “Then, how will Emma know she has them inside her?” Blue Fairy: “We will just have to hope that they find their way to the surface when she needs them the most.”

Henry’s Dreamscape. Aboard The Jolly Roger. (The storm rages. With the crew doing their best to stay afloat, Hook and Henry man the wheel.) Hook: “That whirlpool! Every time I think I've steered us clear-” Smee: “It's following us!” Blackbeard: “The old girl can't hold out much longer! Do something!” Hook: “I think this is the end, lad. I can't tell you enough how sorry I am to have brought you to this.” Henry: “You were just trying to get me what I thought I wanted. I've been so stupid. (He gets an idea:) Give me that ring! (Hook nods and hands him the ring:) A whirlpool that follows you isn't normal. It's magic! And I've got a feeling that a certain pirate king wants his ring back. Hook, take us toward that whirlpool.” Blackbeard: “Wait, wait, wait. Toward the whirlpool? You'll kill us all!” Hook: “If you are taking a risk for the sake of impressing Ella-” Henry: “I'm not, because it's suddenly become very clear to me that the only thing that she would want is for me to get home alive. Take us toward the whirlpool! I trust any Hook to safely pilot any vessel in any realm.” Blackbeard: “No!” (Hook and Blackbeard fight over control of the wheel.) Hook: “No!”  (Hook elbows Blackbeard in the face, knocking him out.) Henry: (Climbs the main mast of the ship:) “Keep us steady! As close as you can!” Hook: “Aah!” Smee: “You've got it, sir!” Hook: “Throw it, lad!” (Henry throws the ring into the heart of the whirlpool. A few tense moments pass before there is a pulse of energy and a flash of white light. And then, all is darkness.)

Ella, Richard & Roberta's Campsite. (Ella returns to camp to find Richard and Roberta loading up the horses.) Ella: “What's this?” Richard: “I just packed up all your gear like a good sidekick. By the way, I know what you were up to last night.” Ella: “Oh, yeah. I guess it was pretty obvious. Because I sang it out loud.” Richard: “Hey, Bobby, I was right! Ella was trying to set us up.” Roberta: (Chuckles:) “Hilarious!” Richard: “Creepy, right?” Roberta: “Disgusting!” Richard: “The worst!” Roberta: (Through clenched teeth:) “Yeah, all right.” Richard: “But, hey, at least we got that all figured out. We know that we are just good friends.” Roberta: (Hesitates:) “Right.” Richard: “Mm. So, what's next?” Ella: “We head to the forest. I hear there are Giants in the Southern Reach. Perhaps we can convince them to join us in attacking Valencia.” Richard: “So, we're right back where we started.” Ella: “Yep! Nothing has changed.” Richard: “Nothing.” Roberta: (Following behind them, the rose in her hand:) “Nothing at all.” Kingdom of Valencia. Throne Room. (Gareth is attempting to read when Sid enters.) Sid: “Hey, there, friend. Got a pair of tickets to tonight's joust. Third row. Want to go? Last time I sat there, I caught a tooth... And I still have it.” Gareth: “No, thanks.” Sid: “But you love violence.” Gareth: “Yeah, I know, but I think it'd be better if you went without me. You should go right now.” Queen Madelena: “Is it him?” Gareth: “Aw, crap.” (Madelena enters.) Sid: (Bowing:) “My Queen.” Queen Madelena: “Oh, don't you ‘My Queen’ me. I'm bad news, am I?” Sid: (To Gareth:) “You told her what I said.” Gareth: “Only that little bit.” Queen Madelena: (Continues:) “I'll rip his heart out, and you don't mean symbolically?” Gareth: “Okay, I told her the whole thing.” Queen Madelena: “I'm more ‘shrew’ than woman?” Gareth: “And I made some stuff up.” Sid: “What about the Bro Code?!” Gareth: “I know! But I'm starting to really like her, and she's super-pretty. We just started talking and... I think you better run.” Queen Madelena: “Guards! Kill him. (Sid runs from the throne room with two guards chasing while Madelena takes her place beside Gareth:) Turns out I like you, too.”

The Land Without Magic. New York. (Emma stands smiling before she swings and connects with an oncoming baseball. Thoroughly unimpressed, Regina watches her wife from outside the batting cages.) Regina: "Oh look, you hit that one too, congratulations. Can we go now?" Emma: "Come on, I haven't done this in ages. I have a whole roll of quarters itching to be used." Regina: (Glancing at the quarters:) "That's no reason to spend your entire life savings." Emma: (Laughs:) "Hey, don't break my concentration. (Swings and connects:) Henry and I used to love coming here." Regina: "Mother and son bonding over hitting a ball with a stick." Emma: "It's called a bat, and I think you know that. (Swings and connects:) Besides, it's tougher than it looks." Regina: (Mutters:) "It'd have to be. (Louder:) Remind me when we get home to throw a couple of fireballs at you. We'll see how your little bat does against those." Emma: (Smiles:) "Big words, Mama Bear. Why don't you come inside the cage and say them to my face." (Swings again, connecting with a solid hit. Emma turns to face Regina, dropping the bat loudly to the floor as she sees someone she recognises.) Facilier: (Approaching:) "Very impressive." Regina: (Turning, shocked:) "This isn't possible." Facilier: "Not probable, perhaps. But clearly-" Regina: "No, you are dead. You've been dead as long as we've known you. We're in a world without magic, how the hell can you be here?!" Facilier: "I would just love to explain. Perhaps we could all talk over drinks. Non alcoholic for you of course." Emma: (Running over to them:) "Get the hell away from her!" Facilier: (Smiling:) "Emma, my dear, how are you?" Emma: "I don't know how or why you're here, but I swear if you come any closer I will-" Facilier: "Submit to my every whim? (Enjoying the look on her face:) Oh, Emma, there’s such a glorious, explicit history between us." Regina: (Walks over, standing directly in front of him:) "Don't you dare speak to her. I may not have my magic, but I can still rip your head off." Facilier: (Staring at Emma:) "Oh, I think Emma's going to want to hear what I have to say. (Looks down at Regina:) You both will."

[lafiametta]

@graduatedpillowmonster wanted to hear more about how Henry and John’s dinner date went! (Does it count as a spoiler if I tell you right now that the coq au vin turned out perfectly?)

It was dark by the time he pulled up next to the house, which looked almost exactly as he had imagined it would: neat and modestly sized, tucked a little way back from the street, a pair of leafy oaks framing the stone path that led up to the front porch. Light spilled from the front windows, warm gold beacons shining into the night.

Henry grabbed the gift from the passenger seat and stepped out into the cool of the evening air. His stomach fluttered unsteadily – it had been doing that for most of the day – and as he made his way along the path he tried to take several deep breaths to calm himself. It was only John, he told himself. It was just like dropping by the bookstore, which he did all the time. But it wasn’t really, not if he was being honest, because he had never once walked into that bookstore thinking that he was likely to end up kissing John Bridgens or – in what was now looking like a distinct possibility – spending the night in his bed. Still, he knew it would be foolish to go in with any kind of expectations of what might happen; if John wanted to take this slow, which could easily be the case, he was more than willing to wait. 

And then he remembered the feeling of John’s mouth, so warm and eager as it coaxed against his, which only caused his heart to dance more skittishly against the tight confines of his ribs. 

He pressed the doorbell and then ran a quick hand over his hair, glancing down at himself for a moment to make sure he was halfway presentable. (Not that there was much to be done if he wasn’t, he realized.) 

The door swung open to reveal John, looking sharply handsome in a white slim-fitting button-down and dark jeans, a chef’s apron tied around his waist. He smiled warmly, his hand reaching out to clasp Henry’s shoulder as he leaned in to give him a small welcoming kiss upon his cheek. 

“Please, come in.” He stepped back to invite Henry inside, and it was only then that Henry remembered the bouquet he was holding in his hand.

“Lovely,” John said as Henry offered it to him, looking a bit surprised but accepting it with a gesture of practiced grace. 

(At first, Henry hadn’t really known what to bring: wine was pretty much out of the question, as John knew so much more about it than he did, and buying a bottle of liquor was also tricky, mostly because he didn’t know what kind John preferred – although he suspected his taste ran towards the higher end of things. It was only after several other failed ideas that he hit upon the notion of flowers, which was, admittedly, a rather unconventional thing to give a man, but he thought John of all people would appreciate the sentiment. At the florist’s he had spent some time looking over all his options, finally deciding on a combination of gardenias, lilac-colored dahlias, and peonies so dark and velvety purple they looked almost black. “Lucky girl,” the florist had said. Henry had just smiled, saying nothing in return.)

John took his jacket and then excused himself for a moment so that he could find something to put the flowers in. “Would you like wine?” he asked before he disappeared into the kitchen. “I’ve got both red and white.”

“Whatever’s open,” Henry answered back.

While John was gone, he took the opportunity to have a look around: the space felt warm and lived-in, with touches of forest green and navy mixed with dark wood accents. A fireplace took up part of one side of the living room, the mantle topped with decorative antiques, but the prominent feature, which covered two walls nearly floor to ceiling, were the books. There seemed to be just about every kind imaginable: slim paperbacks and hardcovers with worn-edged dust jackets and even a few leather-bound volumes with gold-stamped titles written across the spine. Henry stopped himself from examining them too closely – he wasn’t at the bookstore, after all – and instead allowed himself to think about what such a collection might represent, a lifetime of words hand-picked and arranged with care, waiting patiently along the shelves like so many old, familiar friends. 

Music was playing softly from a set of speakers in the corner, what sounded to his ears like old-time piano jazz, and he quickly spotted a turntable just nearby, a red-labeled vinyl record spinning underneath the plexiglass cover. It shouldn’t have surprised him – it wasn’t as if he had imagined John making Spotify playlists or asking Alexa to play his favorite album – but still he smiled, slightly charmed by his discovery. 

John reappeared with two glasses of white wine and offered one to Henry. “Cheers,” he said, holding out his glass, and Henry raised his own drink to tap against it, the tiny crystal note left to vibrate in the air.

The wine, he was certain, was delicious, but it was hard to focus on the taste when all he could think about was how close John was standing and how completely delectable his arms looked with his shirt sleeves casually cuffed up to the elbow. His breath began to turn heavy, charged by their unacknowledged proximity. Still, he knew he couldn’t just keep standing there silently holding his glass; he needed to say something interesting, or just anything at all. 

“It smells wonderful,” Henry finally said, nodding in the direction of the kitchen. He wasn’t exaggerating; he could catch the scent of rosemary and garlic as well as something rich and savory he could only hope was bacon.  

John shrugged. “Not much to it, really. You throw everything in the pot and let the ingredients do most of the work.”

They made their way towards the kitchen, where the mouthwatering aroma only intensified, and Henry heard his stomach growl a little in response. The room itself was warmly-lit, with gray cabinets and white-tile countertops, all of it looking remarkably neat and tidy despite the work going on. A cast iron pot sat on the stove simmering away and there was a large leafy salad on the central island. John grabbed a thick dishcloth and pulled a pan of herb-roasted potatoes from the oven, quickly scooping the contents into a serving dish. 

Henry leaned against the counter, gently setting his wine glass down. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“Would you mind taking the salad and potatoes to the table? The wine and bread are already there.” John turned his attention to the pot, grabbing a spoon and giving it a quick stir. “The coq au vin’s nearly done, so I’ll be right behind you.”

As Henry walked in, he noticed that the lights in the dining room had been dimmed lower, while a trio of candles flickered in the center of the table, casting a golden glow over their surroundings. Henry’s flowers were there as well, splayed open to fullness in a porcelain vase, looking darkly beautiful and perfect, as if they had somehow been arranged to match the room. The long rectangular dining table was already set for two, but rather than being placed across from each other, John had put the settings along the adjacent sides of a corner, a subtle gesture that struck Henry as a touch suggestive in its intimacy. (Of course, he had never been invited for dinner like this before, so it was entirely possible he was overthinking things.)

He glanced out the wide windows into the back yard; it was quiet and still, the moonlight softly illuminating a pair of patio chaises and the raised bed of a small kitchen garden.

True to his word, John followed soon after him, carrying the pot with both hands and depositing it carefully on the table, a dishcloth wrapped around the handles to protect him from the heat. He served them both, first by pulling out the larger pieces of chicken thigh with a set of tongs and then by ladling out the dark-colored broth, which was filled with mushrooms, carrots, and chunks of bacon. They helped themselves to the side dishes and to thick slices of bread, and John made sure Henry’s wine glass was filled once more before he topped off his own.  

“I’m glad you came,” he said, catching Henry’s eye over the rim of his glass, and then he smiled, tiny fragments of candle light reflecting in his gaze. 

“Me too,” Henry replied, his face growing warm under such gentle scrutiny. 

The food, naturally, was amazing, which he told John over and over again, and it was all Henry could do not to want to wolf it down as quickly as possible. But he soon found himself following John’s lead, slowing down and pausing so he could savor each bite, each flavor, each sip of wine, enjoying himself in the moment rather than rushing towards some unseen finish. The conversation began to flow easily, any lingering nerves or awkwardness smoothed over, aided, perhaps, by the pouring of more wine. They talked about themselves in ways they hadn’t ever really been able to at the bookstore, in ways that were more personal and real than Henry was completely used to, but it wasn’t hard to talk that way with John, not at all. They talked about books, too – it was almost an inalterable habit at this point – and for a while went back and forth about the depiction of female characters in the first few chapters of The Age of Innocence, which Henry was nearly half-way through, before finally deciding that they would simply have to agree to disagree when it came to the works of Edith Wharton.

John surprised him with the news that he had also prepared dessert, quickly heading back to the kitchen and returning with two small dishes of crème brûlée, their sugared tops scorched to a golden brown. He showed Henry how to tap the caramelized surface with the back of his spoon so that it cracked evenly enough for him pick up tiny bits of it with each bite of the custard. 

Perhaps it was the combination of the food and the company and the late-growing hour, but they soon found themselves talking about past relationships – or at least Henry found himself talking about his past relationships – and then he realized he didn’t know that much about John, at least not about that side of him. And there was something he wanted to know, something that had gnawed at him for some time. He hadn’t said anything before, but now, his inhibitions lowered just enough by the wine, he gave in to the desire to ask. 

“It’s just…” He paused, before finally finding some of the words he had been searching for. “You’re a catch, to be honest. Handsome. Educated. You own your own business, your own home. I guess I don’t understand why you’re still…” He didn’t quite want to say it, not when it was going to sound so blunt. 

“Alone?” John offered. 

Henry nodded. 

“You remember the man I told you about, the one I ran the store with?”

Of course Henry remembered. John had never provided much beyond the barest outlines, but from the way he spoke about him, Henry could sense that their relationship had meant a great deal to John and that the impact of his death had been profound.

“Michael was my partner, in every way imaginable,” he continued. “I was young when I met him, like you, but even then we knew that it was something special. We bought the store together, we bought this house together, and after he died, I… well, I wasn’t really looking. I needed time.”

“And now… you’re looking?”

“You could say that.” He smiled softly, his eyes downcast, and then raised them to meet Henry’s gaze. “But from where I’m sitting, I don’t know that I need to look much further.”

They sat there for a moment, neither of them speaking, the air around them charged with something powerful and heavy, something that curled itself around Henry’s throat and pricked hot along his skin. He understood everything John was saying and the invitation that was being laid out before him. A few months ago he would have immediately taken it up and enjoyed what he had been offered, but for some reason he felt the urge to wait, if only for a little while, now understanding that the pleasure to be had in the anticipation was sometimes as great as that to be had in the act itself.

So he cleared his throat, temporarily letting the spell break, and then stood and made an offer to start on the dishes, which was only fair, he said, considering that John did all the cooking. John protested a little – Henry was a guest, he didn’t need to be cleaning up his messes – but eventually gave in, but only with the compromise that he do the drying if Henry insisted on the washing. 

They stood side by side at the sink, each plate and glass scrubbed clean and handed over to be dried, until there was nothing left, and Henry turned off the faucet, the kitchen returning to a steady hum of silence. Saying nothing, he turned a little towards John and reached out to slide a hand along his waist, feeling the warmth of him underneath the fabric of his shirt. He took a step closer until their bodies came up against each other, until they were nearly face to face. But instead of kissing him, he turned so he could graze his nose along John’s cheek, his touch featherlight as he breathed in deeply. 

“Are you sure, Henry?” There was a rough strain in John’s voice, and he smiled a little to think he was the cause for it. 

“Completely,” he murmured.

John’s hand quickly found his, their fingers lacing together with ease, as if simply returning to where they were meant to be all along. 

“Shall we go upstairs, then?”