#(( give it up for the tws everybody!!!! we love my mile long tws!!!!!

[royalreef]

{ spkyscry​ }

Things should have been fine, it was mid-day and, according to the schedule, Mister Oberlin should have been at the Shelter still. Plenty of time for Vera to slip inside and grab something from her room on the way to their proper destination. A simple in-and-out that would only take a minute or two at most, since Vera was the one that knew this place like the back of her hand.

Nobody would expect even Vera to reside somewhere here. There’s no grand ceiling, no trappings of the wealth that many landfolk would balk at, nor any of the niceties that the gorgon’s sadistic streak would entail. A perfectly uninteresting, quaint abode that was open and able to reach either end of in mere seconds. The only thing that might scream that this is a slightly nicer abode is the fact that Vera has to traverse up stairs to get to her room. The familiar click of her heels amidst all the very unfamiliar sounds heard above being the only support amidst this complete unknown.

Everything seems ‘normal’ for this place until there’s a stir in the door, quickly followed by the clicking of heels upstairs rapidly intensifying in their steps before the door opens. The only thing that could be identified immediately as wrong, those quickened steps, even as it’s much too late to do anything about it.

The man, of course, looks nothing like Vera, but the smell is immediate. It’s one that’s often on Vera, yes, that most wouldn’t pick up on and vice versa. This was clearly a person that lived here, too, even if the striking resemblances to Valerie only make who this person was all the more clear. Maybe if it wasn’t so hectic the way he held himself may help, or the familiarities in the way he moves that can be picked up.

Even while he takes in the clearly misplaced thing in his abode, it’s so startlingly clear who this is, and yet it’s made all the more clear when Vera all but falls down the stairs in her stumbling into the living room. Eyes faintly aglow as if the slight dimness of the room was too dark for her. As if she herself didn’t know this person just as readily as she knew the house she grew up in.

“Pa!” Vera exclaims, sealing who this person must be into being true. “You, ah, I thought you would be at the Shelter right now.”

“Well, that nice young lad, ah.. Scott, wasn’t it?” Mr. Oberlin begins, slowly easing the door the rest of the way shut behind him. “Yeah, that nice werewolf. He came by and seemed to have a handle on the kiddos, 'long with everything else being sorted, that I decided to head out early today..”

A perfect, unpredictable dilemma appearing from nowhere. Vera had oft mentioned her attempts to keep her father satiated without seeing Miranda personally, yet, it was all for naught as he looks between Vera and Miranda as the realization seems to be clicking into place in his head.

       She startles the very second the door opens. After all, this place, even with its unfamiliarity, is a place that Miranda has been warned about before. Not in the specifics, of course, her tutors and her sisters have never stepped foot here ( not that she knows ), but she knows that this place does not belong to her. Not just in the deed and who has signed it, but in a more existential sense, a sense that this is not a place she belongs either. That she is mismatched in some fundamental, undeniable way, and for this she sticks out, rose quartz scales against wood grain and gold and silk against wallpaper, and thus this place can be safely categorized as other. 

        Places other are not where she belongs, as they’re dangerous for her, this misplacement as dangerous for herself as it is the people around her. There is a world outside of her castles and manors, and she is actually quite well-educated on this fact, has been since she was young and first began to understood that things could exist in places where Miranda could not see them.

        The issue, then, is one of correction. Because she does not fit here, because she has been misplaced, there lies some deeply held impulse within her that this must be corrected in some manner. She has avoided these places for a reason, after all, her unfamiliarity not just a result of a literal physical separation, and it is dangerous for her to stray far. Danger, in this case, being all the things that the crown told her that it could no longer protect her from. 

       Life inside the walls of the palace were not easy, but even that was a blessing, a gift!, compared to what waited for her beyond. What hungry mouths wished to consume her, salivated over her and her tender flesh, her brittle bones? What knives were being sharpened in the most hidden corners, what weapons were being forged to drag her away from her bed, from her sweet darkness, what ropes to bind her and what straps to break her? What couldn’t be done with her body, her mind, all the wealth that was given to her for her kingdom, all the honor of her family line? Who wouldn’t love her to dash her to shreds, who wouldn’t want to watch her cry and scream? 

      It was safer in the Royal Palace. It was safer behind castle walls and behind guards and beyond the watchful eye of the throne. The throne would protect her. Only the throne was right for her, and only the throne could know what was right for her, because it was of her and she was of it.

        So, yes. It is not an honorable thing, but Miranda startles the second that the door opens behind her. She can’t help it, already so busy stuck staring at this place and the ways that it is unlike her home, and she knows this song and dance too well. 

       The first step is always the shrinking of her pupils, reduced down into two panicked little scratches, black wrinkle against a shallow tropical sea. Then she twirls, swings her body around, tail following like a streamer by the time her head has already dropped, heading for the ground and the balance and speed of four limbs instead of two. The tempo is kept by a shrill noise, a fresh screech of nails-across-chalkboard, warbling high and long and stretched out too far and too wide and spiking into the ears like she could defend herself that way — a beat that is only shattered by the sound of Vera’s voice.

        Her heart is beating too fast already. It’s speeding far and away from the marker for her normal pulse, lazy and sluggish and waiting half-hearted, now pushed faster, faster, faster by the gulps of air that keep coming and have to be replenished too soon, before Miranda can fully begin to handle herself. Her body is made to wait, made to bide its time and waste no energy doing needless tasks, so that then she can burst into action, to chase or be chased, it didn’t matter, trying to occupy two different metabolic rates at once so that she didn’t have to fear for starvation either way.

       She’s still dropped halfway down to the ground. Her head is low, her fins pinned back so that she feels them against the desperate flex of her gills, trying to expel nonexistent water that she never swallowed down. In the low light, Vera and him both can see the fluttering, terrified blue light that pulses over arms and flashes in her tail, in the tall paddle that sits like a flag planted in the middle of the hallway.

                        It is only at this point that Miranda’s mind registers the word ‘Pa’.

                                                                      Oh.

        Her mind is overclocked already. Thoughts swim in and out of focus like seabirds picking at her corpse, swarming delightfully from one tender morsel to another. The initial panic, the terror of assassins slipping up from behind her to feel over the tender skin between her jaw and her gills before plunging the darting scale of a knife into her pale belly, the denial of the anticipation of hurt and of pain and of sheer terror before darkness takes her — it flips her all too easily into the other extreme, into the one place that she can think to go.

        Once, before, when Miranda was much younger, she made the mistake of beginning to wail in front of the King’s Court. She couldn’t remember why — she had been a child, young and inexperienced, and she was sure it was something like it was taking too long, or that she was hungry, or that she missed Bellanda, or she hated the clothes she had to wear, or something similar. It didn’t matter why, really. What she had remembered was the claws latching onto the middle of her tail, the sting of blood and the break of bone, and being forcibly dragged backwards through the water in someone else’s slipstream. Miranda never made that same mistake again, of showing upset in front of the King. Lesson learned.

        He saw her panic. He saw her startle, saw the weakness in her like the rot it was, knew that there were places and ways to make Miranda fear, and places where someone else could wriggle in, and that wasn’t right, that wasn’t proper of someone of her title. It wasn’t right, something had gone wrong, Vera had chosen poorly, Miranda was going to introduce weakness into their lineage and that couldn’t be permitted to happen, Miranda could not be permitted to make the same mistake again, Vera could not be permitted to pick someone so ill-suited again, she was going to hurt Vera, Vera was going to be hurt because of her, Vera was going to die, Vera was going to die and it was all Miranda’s fault, all her fault, all her fault, all her fault—

        “Greetings,” her mouth spoke for her, her accent bleeding in around the edges heavily, making the word warp into something musical and fluting. The cadence of her voice was off. It was too prim, too unruffled, too controlled. Everything pressed in exactly where it was supposed to go, detached and beautiful, untouched by the world or anything in it, a voice that issued commands into fact, a voice that could not be challenged, a voice that reigned supreme over the heavens and the earth and the endless dark, cold depths of the ocean.

                              “I believe we have not made acquaintance before.”

        Vera had heard this voice before. She could see the change as it happened, Miranda standing up again, balancing back on two legs that did not want to carry her alone. The way her fins moved into a position that was not quite relaxed but not lifted either, held professionally and perfectly at the sides of her face, folded over each other as though an afterthought. Everything about Miranda, every harsh edge and every blinding joy, smoothed back into an image of power so complete and total that it became alien, that Miri was shoved out of the definition and Princess Miranda stepped forward to fill it. Even he would see it, not knowing her, because it was impossible to miss, undeniable.

           She was beautiful. She was terrifying. She was professional. She was not Miranda.

[midnightnotegem]

The Overlooked, Invisible Thread

TW! Mentions trauma, emotional + sexual abuse

The Ego.

Freud's definition of Ego has been one that's more often than not, misconstrued. His definition does not mean self-centeredness or selfishness. Here's a definition from Merriam-Webster that I'm going to explore in a bit, "the self especially as contrasted with another self or the world".

Although, despite the fact that I know there are differences, I'm pretty guilty of using it as such. ʚ ♡  ♡  ♡  ♡  ♡ ɞ

On August 12th of 2022, something radically changed. No, nothing particularly life-altering happened that day. In fact, I was having a really great, fun and happy day until the late evening-early night arrived.

I had been waiting for 3 weeks and 6 days since the final argument began. There were quite a lot hurled at each other, however, it felt more appropriate to receive first, then give mine after, given there was gonna be a wait. What I read coming from ex was unbelievably apathetic. Actually, not just that. Some sort of assumption flew out, as if I must've known the religious implications of what I said. Straws were pulled from the hat with that "offense" though.

So there I was, confused and dwelling on decisions about our relationship for nearly one month. Not that one month was even long enough for me to have been solid in any. But, I had one idea mapped out and likely would've gone with it … except of course what happened on the 12th.

My ex claimed he had a busy life anymore, his supposed reason was work. Well, knowing it was yet another Friday, my mind got more curious as if this was gonna be another week where I wait or if I finally receive anything. As it turns out, he was actually hiding himself away from me and presumably, he was opening and closing Steam games, such as Sonic Origins or Sonic Mania, to work on one of his bazillion artwork ideas he has. … Wonder how long stuff like that has been going on, huh?

Steam, being his traitor, told me plenty. Even as him and I were confronting this exactly, he didn't care. We said our goodbyes after some talk.

I truly don't believe he believes this is the end, but it is. Confused?

I had been too, not able to pinpoint what it was. No matter how hard I searched or thought of, it didn't face me. Instead, it hid underneath my nose where I admitted plentiful times, yet didn't recognize it as a core reason.

Beneath the tangled weeds of being broken up with, while forced to make the breakup official, being in despair for so long, so much so that I became overly self-sacrificial, the emotional abuse, the sexual abuse and many moments of toxicity … there was something more.

Something I treasured so deeply.

So deeply, I could not hold onto that thought long enough to look at it.

It didn't occur to me what it was, until I found relief:

I wanted to be perceived as "the innocent", "the one that got away" … no thanks to his failures. The "how could you"s, I wanted to hear that spill. It… caught up. To me.

A simple mistake, that everybody knows a child doesn't mean, was taken too literal. We get angry, we say things we don't mean. When you're 15 years old, you do stupid shit. Not even just children, adults do it too. It was a heated argument and I said "I want to kill you". … How's this possible? We were thousands of miles apart. Either way, his parents were too bothered by a simple sentence, an admittance to his parents my ex supposedly regrets. Well.

Long story short, I learned very quickly to reign-in that anger when it felt like a miracle happened, that we could repair everything. Similarly reliving nearly a couple years prior. I was faulted for it all, no matter how it started, what he said, and even if he was the one who told his parents. I took it all. I ran with it, just so I could have a chance. A chance to prove myself, some redemption. I thought, "I loved this man so much. I couldn't have this happen again".

I did the very best I could, as the years went on. To make sure nothing got that out of control. Wasn't the greatest effort, I'm aware, but I was growing too. The fault in my own upbringing, my own behaviors and reactions, suddenly I had to own it and do something productive about it.

I grew into a person of chaos on one end, and gradually chaos into the other. All I cared about, was bettering myself for the relationship. It became my mission. As things fell apart more and more, that mission was more for him and I, than it was for his family's view of the relationship.

It was more apparent, after I came home on September of 2021, just how much I valued his mother's opinion specifically.

Hearing how she couldn't wait for me to be there during a video call when I already changed my mind about going, how she was a bit anxious to buy the tickets, how I would be viewed once I was there.

And when I heard these complaints about me from her once I was home, I broke. I didn't compliment their home, I didn't eat brownies I supposedly had, it was assumed I'd ask to help clean their dinner dishes.

… It didn't matter that I was sick the entire trip. To no one. No, I wasn't sick actually. I was far gone and lost into Collapse. I ate more than I normally could, I barely went to the bathroom, I hardly owned a voice, every waking moment was uncomfortable from the lack of bowel movements, I could hardly keep up with what was going on around me each day, I felt guilty and apologized for "being sick" to his face. … I should've seen it coming, as he passed it off as "it's okay". Nothing before the trip was truly acknowledged with care, despite it being totally alarming to the average.

I never loved anyone this hard, but I also never met anyone so dangerous.

ʚ ♡  ♡  ♡  ♡  ♡ ɞ

…

Some way, some how. It was torn apart. That… sense of "I need to prove myself".

What I didn't realize, was it had evolved yet again.

No, I didn't JUST need to know that I was rightfully and justifiably viewed as the innocent one and the victim.

Like a beachball, "The Final Say" was bounced back and forth. He played it off as I was the one who had the final say in whether or not our relationship lasted. Though it's not obvious, it is possible he meant it differently than I did. A common thing, that he doesn't grab the same message as I, from most texts. No matter how clear it is explained.

I had many go-rounds to accomplish this. To my perspective, I failed. From December all the way up until now. …

Vanish.

I meant it this time, and everything felt as if it hit directly. It hit well, it was said well. Directly, no bullshit. Came across as "I'm finished here".

Maybe because I factually meant it. That it felt like peace.

As time went on that month-long wait, I began to see how unbearable sticking around was. I saw how much help he needed, and what I needed right now. Then some thoughts led to how apparent his need for help will become after some time, to his family.

… Must've been the easygoing solution, because I didn't think about that at all. No recognition on any level.

I now know what my ex is capable of, both in negative and positive terms.

The pedestal I kept him on was crumbling in front of me, and it combusted instead. No longer do I see him as someone special, nor do I see him as someone who I can imagine wishing to be in the right direction to turn our life together around.

All that bound me, died. For that, I am happy and free. There was the peace I yearned for. I didn't have to die for it, I had to play the long game… just as I promised myself I would. ❤️ ❤️‍🩹

[nacrelyses]

normal album analysis as a musical: the child

first a disclaimer: i know this interpretation was not will wood’s intention in making the album, this is just how the music resonates with me and i hope it helps other people as well.

now following up on my last post about the normal album potentially being interpreted as the life of a queer child in a conservative family (tw internalized and external queerphobia, gaslighting, mental illness). 

let’s call this ..hmm.

a normal musical: the child.

suburbia overture: the aforementioned overture, the establishment of the musical setting as your typical white picket fence upper middle class suburb nuclear family. traditional values, traditional lifestyle, traditional children, with the vampire culture segment foreshadowing the way that imposing conservative values and self-loathing on a closeted queer child “sucks” the life out of them.

2econd-2ight-2eer: when the child starts questioning, the very act of questioning defies the moral compass their family has set out for them. possibly reflecting the way that questioning and exploring one’s identity, in addition to being rife with internalized queerphobia, is also fraught with the self-gaslighting that comes as a result of the internalized queerphobia, which might make the child believe they’re simply “losing it” or that whatever they’re experiencing is a mental illness. also the first stanza: “my grip on my secrets slipping while i’m speaking in tongues, screaming at the top of my lungs in the confession booth” religious trauma much?

laplace’s angel: the child has begun to come to terms with the fact that they are most likely queer, and the complete deterioration of their family’s imposed conservative values. this is the phase where the internalized queerphobia still makes them feel as though they’ve become a bad or evil person, thus laplace’s angel being them internally pleading for the world and for society to see them as they really are rather than a villain deviating from the norm. that if others were in their shoes, they’d walk the “same damn miles”, the same damn crises, the same damn emotional turmoil, that the child is currently going through .

i/me/myself: gender cannonball...need i say more? maybe the child believes, as a product of internalized transphobia, that it would be easier if they were their assigned gender - or perhaps, depending on the individual, maybe the child is wishing to be able to exist as their true gender. in either scenario, this song encapsulates the desperation that comes with exploring identity. the freedom that arrives with a revelation and the immediate restriction that comes with realizing that that revelation can never be truly realized in a queerphobic family. or even the bitterness at knowing their family makes such a huge deal about queerness, that queerness is somehow a gigantic roadblock their family will never be able to cross. both realizing your identity and still grappling with the idea that if you were born into the “norm”, you wouldn’t need to go through all this pain to try and figure out who you really are. it’s the turmoil of being genuine in a society that would actively oppress you for doing so and putting up a facade that somewhat lessens the aforementioned pain, but at the cost of further internal suffering. 

also, to my fellow genderqueer and gender nonconforming will wood fans (and let’s face it, which one of us isn’t?): i see you. i see your spotify listening activity. i see the loop button. i would ask if you’re okay but i know we’re not

...well, better than the alternative: parenting angst here, maybe alluding to the parents themselves perpetuating toxic cycles that they never had the opportunities to realize or heal from. the child is born amid these toxic cycles, and although this toxicity (the queerphobia, for example) is the norm in this suburban family, deep down the parents don’t want their child to turn out the way they do. meanwhile, on the other end, the child is feeling as though “everybody’s up in my goddamn business” - maybe the parents are starting to suspect that their child is less than cishet (or maybe the child has come out to them), and within their denial of their child not turning out the way they want them to, maybe they unconsciously realize that it’s their own toxic parenting styles that have made their child so afraid and secretive about who they really are. if this is the scenario that the child has come out to their parents, they have decided that even if they are existing in a conservative family, they will be existing as themselves. or if it is a closet scenario, the child has decided that they will continue to hide themselves from their family for their own safety. in either situation, the child believes that the decision they made is “better than the alternative” 

(this song also makes me remember hospitals a lot so there’s that)

outliars and hyppocrates: we start off with some more religious (trauma) imagery. maybe the metaphor of the apple is trying to indicate to the parents, through the conservative lens of seeing queerness as something bad, that the child was not “brainwashed” or “taught” to be this way. that they simply are. the rest of the song grapples with that internalized queerphobia, maybe the child feeling that they are less than human because of their queerness but who’d want to be human, be the norm, anyway? if the child is made to feel Other, then they ought to embrace and wear and own that Otherness - out of defiance, out of desperation, but ultimately out of a need for survival. 

blackboxwarrior: i want to focus on the chorus here. the child’s mental struggles are exacerbated by the lack of acceptance they receive from their immediate environment, but the chorus acts as sort of a defiance against their internalized queerphobia. so what if their parents’ values portray queerness as an illness, something that will kill you? if it was going to kill the child, it would have by now; and it hasn’t, so surely the child is heading in a right direction to be exploring and reclaiming their identity. and then the bridge - “growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence?” ties back to i/me/myself’s grappling with the idea of self and existence in one’s body. growing up, how was the child’s relationship with the environment that dictated how they ought to exist and be perceived? and “what, you think ideas spread because they're good? / no, they spread because people like them” can be pointing to the conservative ideas that are perpetuated by the child’s family. these ideas do not spread because they’re good. they spread because the family wants an excuse from some higher power to discriminate against those they feel are outliers from the norm. “so here we are once again, holding, as it were, a mirror up to your mirror / i guess it's just something people do” can be pointing to how the way the child is trying to come to terms with their identity is by overcoming the toxic ways of thought that their parents taught them, and which their parents are still bound by. if the parents are to find out that their child is queer, their reaction will be to ask, “why? we don’t understand you?” but they are really only talking to the mirror, to the reflection they have constructed that they believe their child to be. their child is not that reflection, and they are going in circles, but that’s just what people do, i guess.

finally, the bridge being formatted sort of like one’s first session with a therapist or psychiatrist leads into marsha, thankk you for the dialectics.

marsha, thankk you for the dialectics: a heavily psychiatry-based song. marsha thankk is about the intertwining of the self with the illness and i value that meaning a lot. i can’t think of another way, nor do i particularly want to think of another way, to embed this song’s meaning into the child. it has grown obvious by this point that the child has their own mental illnesses to grapple with - whether they arose as a need to cope within their toxic home environment, or out of other factors, is not particularly important to be clarified. i would say that the meaning of this song in this musical is just what it was originally intended to be - the child, on their path to recovery, slowly separating those toxic coping mechanisms from themselves in order to really realize their identity. 

love, me normally: i wrote a long ass post about this at 12am this morning. 

memento mori: the musical’s closure. this song embodies a lot of nihilism about one’s existence and one’s meaning in existence, and i would like to think that this song being the musical’s closure is not closure in the sense that it gives you a “where are they now” glimpse, or that it gives you the final direction that the child has decided to head in. rather, memento mori exists in this musical as the child’s innermost thoughts about their own existence as somebody who seemingly defies the (supposed cishet) order of the universe. it is the child’s darkest, most shadowed and hidden ruminations about their life and what their death may bring, if anything at all. throughout the child’s life, throughout the musical, these thoughts have only been hidden, obscured and glimpsed in passing when the lyrical puzzles of the normal album’s previous songs unfurl (think, “if it was gonna kill you boy, it would have by now” and “am i pretty enough to fucking die” and “good news for the purists, they’ve discovered a cure for the symptoms of being alive / it’s a painless procedure with a low rate of failure, but very few patients survive”, etc). but as the musical’s finale, memento mori brings these thoughts into their very antithesis - into the light. it illuminates the rawness of the child’s pain in learning to accept and love themselves. it brings these thoughts into tangible and articulated reality for two reasons: 

for the audience, as both a warning of the results of such a toxic and intolerant family/environment and an articulation of the thoughts perhaps many of us, ourselves, have to contend with at some point in our lives.

and for the child themselves, so that they can fully realize these thoughts. so that they can parse them, articulate them, unlearn them, and begin to heal.

memento mori in this musical is, paradoxically, a song about death that encourages life to heal.

anyways that’s what i’ve got so far now i have homework i should...do....oh god-

[slutsofren]

surrender the night

*this is a companion piece to my series, Danger Days, but can be read as a standalone

summary: you and joel have been together for a while, no longer worrying about fireflies or about ellie, the three of you became pretty close-knit out on the road and now in jackson but joel is usually closed off with you today until he wants to show you how much he loves you while hunkering down from the rain.

cw: no y/n, intimate/soft smut, mild bratty reader, slight angst, light humor/teasing, established relationship and life in jackson, joel being emotional AND vulnerable, SARAH MENTION that needs a whole TW i swear

word count: 3,884

a/n: congrats to pedro on this role and welcome new fans to tlou!! <spoilers> tlou2 isnt entirely canon in my version bc our man survives abby and her bullshit so we can all be happy here; but check out my series following the first tlou game with slow burn and other fun tropes here on ao3!

read on ao3 here!

Bandit attacks were on the rise again, always spiking before winter starts and at the tail end of it. You had been pulling nearly nonstop shifts at the wall and scouting nearby. Joel noticed how tired you were getting and tried to convince Tommy and Maria to give you less time on rotation. You thanked him heavily for it but if there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping those you loved safe.

The rifle was heavy in your hands, your thighs warmed by your signature dual handguns there, you were armed to the brim but it did nothing considering the visibility was poor. It was raining on and off since the two of you began your shift but as you neared the small town, it had gotten heavier as you got closer to the last stop on the scouting trail.

Beside you, Joel had been quiet nearly the entire time since the two of you left Jackson and each time you tried to ask him if he was okay, he shrugged you off. It wasn’t unusual for the man, he was a rather private person despite the many many months the two of you had been together.

The one thing that warned you something was wrong was a conversation the two of you had only last night. For the first time ever, Joel spoke of a memory between him and Sarah, the daughter he lost over twenty years ago, of how she would banter with him and keep him on his toes. He smiled while telling you a couple stories of her but fell into a tense silence afterwards that seeped well into today and you figure his silence has to do with it.

Your horses came to a stop in the garage of the safehouse as the two of you jumped down. “I’ll shut it,” you offered quietly as you lowered the garage door to keep the horses safe and warm away from the harsh chill of the winds and rain. Joel gave a grunt of confirmation and he opened the inside door to enter the house, shaking his head a bit to rid his hair of some of the dampness.

As the garage door shuttered gently to the ground, you turned to follow Joel up to the third floor of the safehouse and gave a firm pat against your horse as you walked by. Joel had already begun turning on the small lamps that were sparsely laid around the stairwell to make sure you didn’t trip. This was one of the few three story homes that were still viable despite how broken everything was inside. The walls still had some insulation but the dust and debris were stark reminders of everything that had been lost since the cordyceps virus took the world by storm. 

When you reached the landing, your stomach was in knots, Joel’s behavior wasn’t unusual per say but he was rarely like this with you on scout missions, often being more in the moment with you than his usual reserved self. Being outside of Jackson, the two of you had to communicate in order to stay alive, everybody did. It was the only means to survival but his behavior was beginning to worry you more and more.

You removed the rifle from your shoulder then leaned against the doorframe of the master bedroom, watching as Joel signed in both your names on the sheet on the desk that had been pulled in the room. He sighed heavily and turned to face you, “I don’t think we’ll make it back to Jackson anytime soon with the rain.”

“You’re probably right.” You pushed off from the doorframe and shrugged off your backpack, reaching for the long-range radio. You shifted it in your hands before clicking it on.

“Base, this is Athena’s Mark, please be advised we are hunkering down at the last checkpoint. Rain is too heavy to travel. Over.”

After a couple moments passed, you heard the tell-tale sign of a response with static then a click before Maria’s voice rang out. “Athena’s Mark, your message has been received. Notify Base if there’s any sightings out there. Stay safe you two, over and out.”

You looked up from the radio in your hands and saw Joel leaning against the desk with his arms wrapped in front of his chest. He looked at you and you gave him a soft smile before fully entering the room and setting your weapons and backpack down beside the large bed that was still in rather good condition all these years later and sitting on it.

“Y’know you never told me why your code name was Athena’s Mark,” he asked from behind you, watching as you began to unlace your boots.

You smiled as you recalled the memories. “When I was still running with the Fireflies I would sneak over to the Humanities department and steal some of the abandoned books from the offices. One of the rooms belonged to a Greek historian and I found their book on mythology,” you explained without looking up. “By the time I arrived in Jackson, I still had a few of those books in my possession. One day Maria and I got drunk and she called me Athena as a joke but the name stuck with me on missions.”

You laid the unlaced boots on the floor and laid down in the bed, listening to the rain patter against the roof and windows, drowning out all the outside noise. “She said I looked like a goddess of war when I had blood on me, fighting to protect Jackson.” You threw a hand behind your head and stared at the ceiling before continuing. “If the world hadn’t gone to shit, I’d like to think that’s what I would have done with my life. Become a historian or something.”

“I think I would have liked to see you like that,” Joel said in his gruff voice. You smiled at his words.

“What would you have done?”

“I was a carpenter, and even wanted to start my own business. Work was shit to come by but it paid the bills.”

You smiled, remembering all of his wood carvings in the spare bedroom of his house. “If bills weren’t an issue back then, what would you have wanted to do,” you prompted instead.

“I wanted to be a singer but with Sarah and all,” he trails off. You remembered him admitting this once, forever ago but now the candor feels different because he said her name.

Sarah.

You sit up from the bed and look at him, the broad strong man he is, looks like he’s a million miles away. His eyes are unfocused and his face looks conflicted. You get up and take tentative steps towards your boyfriend. “Joel?”

He looks up at you and unfurls his arms from his chest, instead opening them up at you. You walk to him a bit more confidently and walk straight into his embrace as he wraps his arms around your frame. He buries his face into the crook of your neck while you encompass him and rest one of your hands on the nape of his neck, your fingers gently dancing in his dark hair.

“I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse and thick with emotion. His arms wrap around you tighter, pulling you closer into him. “I think she would have liked you.”

You try to pull back a little to look into his eyes but his grip only tightens around you, refusing to let you budge. “I think I would have liked her too, Joel.”

For a man of few words, the ones he spoke have taken your heart by storm. The two of you have been together for a while but the intimacy between you has rarely been like this.

He stays like this for a few more minutes, composing himself. You play with his hair with one hand and the other draws random circles across his back. Silently telling him you’re there for him. After these moments pass, Joel pulls his head back from the crook of your neck to start leaving a trail of kisses there, his beard leaves a scratchy but familiar burn across your skin.

Without using words, he’s telling you how much he loves you, how much he cares, how much it pains him when you’re not together, and you bask in it. “Joel,” you whine as his kisses suddenly shift to small sucks and bites on the sensitive skin on your neck.

“Come here,” he demands slowly, finally bringing his lips to yours.

As the two of you kiss, he tangles his fingers in your hair, his other hand kneading the flesh on your ass. Joel has you melting in his hands as your worries fade. You figure today was rough on him and you’re more than happy running away from the anxiety.

The two of you do this dance with each other's lips until he pushes off the desk, advancing to his full height towering over you. He doesn’t let you break the kiss instead he presses harder into you deepening it.

The more he wordlessly asks, the more you feel like you’re drowning in him, his scent, his touch.

Joel places both of his hands on your hips as he pushes you backwards, walking you to the bed. The backs of your knees hit it and you stumble a little but his sturdy warm hands keep you from falling down. He breaks the deep kiss the two of you were sharing, both just slightly out of breath but heavily disheveled. A shuddering intake of breath and he leans his forehead on yours, his eyes closed. “Will you have me?”

“Yes,” you sigh against him. “Please.”

Just as you slightly beg, any worried thoughts you had were whisked away as he removed your denim jacket from your body. His large calloused hands worked their way back up to your head, his fingers getting tangled in your hair, gently pulling you back so your neck was exposed.

He gently laid kisses up and down your jaw, taking sweet time and care with you.

Your hands drifted up his torso, unbuttoning his soaked red and black flannel. Once the last button popped, you moved your hands across the expanse of his chest, pushing both his flannel and brown coat off him.

A deep groan rises from Joel’s throat, “Easy now.”

He takes a step back and fingers at the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your body. You rush a little and put your hands behind your back, undoing your bra. Joel watches you silently as you discard the article to the side of the bed where your shirt lay on the floor with his.

His hands return to your body, working themselves at your jeans and he pulls them down, gently easing your leg out of each pant leg. He’s being so gentle with you, being so vulnerable and soft.

You stand in front of him as he remains kneeling in front of you, still in the position he was when he removed your jeans. He leans forward and rests his head on your stomach and you feel his breath over your panties.

“May I,” he asks, fiddling with the elastic waistband.

Your fingers catch in his hair as he pulls back, looking you in the eye when you grant him permission, “Yes.”

His eyes study you as he tentatively pulls your panties down, letting them fall. He comes back against your skin, kissing from the tops of your thighs and makes his way upwards across your stomach, between the valley of your breast, your chest, and neck, before finally coming back and kissing you on the lips.

“Get on the bed for me, will you?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, lost in this tender moment with your lover.

Naked and kneeling on the bed, Joel fixes his stare on you, taking his time to unbutton his belt then jeans. His eyes trail over your body, watching as you begin to squirm under his watch.

He pushes forward and kneels on the bed before maneuvering himself to lean back against the headrest. He grabs your leg to swing over his thighs to make you straddle him but his hands stay at your waist, keeping you from fully sitting on his clothed cock by giving attention to your breasts, licking and biting gently as he did with your neck not moments before.

“You’re breathtaking.”

A giggle leaves you at his words aligned with feeling overstimulated by the way his mouth and beard felt on your skin. “Joel, please.”

“Settle down, you heathen,” he says between nips and kisses. You feel him smile across your skin as he pulls you down onto the sheets, coming back to your lips to kiss you more and more. His hands encompass your body, roaming up and down the valleys on your skin, completely enamored with you. 

“Make me,” you tease against his lips.

Joel takes this as a challenge and he sits up, leaving you prone against the pillows. He towers over you, his thick fingers dancing gently across your skin, making a winding trail down your body. “Please,” you begged softly.

Joel said nothing as he sank two of his rough fingers into you and laid down between your thighs to suck and lick at your clit. Your hands flew to his shaggy black hair, taking a sharp inhale at the sensations. Joel eats you out nervously, taking pride in the way you moan to the walls of the empty house. Your sharp intakes of breath get lost under the patter of rain against the roof and windows.

“I love you,” he says against your heat. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Your breath is already stolen away at the way he fucks you with his mouth and fingers but you’re breathless by the way he admits his love for you. The vulnerability of it makes you come against his tongue.

“That’s my girl, that’s it.”

His approval and praise send you soaring but he doesn’t slow down his efforts, instead going faster. Before you could even come down from the blissful high of an orgasm, another tidal wave is rising again. “Joel, I’m coming again,” you whine.

“Come as many times as you want,”

He leaves another trail of kisses across your stomach as he makes his way back to kiss you on your lips. You can feel your wetness on him, taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into him. 

“Lay down, let me treat you,” you say in a low voice as you try to push Joel against the bed. He leans up and puts his hands on your wrists, stopping you.

“No, tonight is about you.”

“Wha-,” he cuts you off with another opened mouth kiss on your lips, he keeps kissing you down your neck to your left  arm, not stopping until he’s kissing your hand.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are,” he whispers against your palm. “The first time I saw you, I fell for you. You had your gun pointed right at me, coulda killed me.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.”

He huffs, hot breath hitting your hand. “I sure as hell am too.”

He drops your hand and shifts on the bed, removing the last piece of cloth covering his erect cock, “I think I woulda let you toss my ass around that first day I laid eyes on you, if I’d known then what I know now.”

“You almost didn’t let me go with you, remember,” you tease.

“Would’ve been the biggest regret of my damn life, sweetheart.” He drops his boxers to the floor, not taking his eyes off you.

“Tell me again, Joel.”

He line’s himself up with you, “I’m glad I found you.” He gently thrusts only the head of his cock into you and pulls out. “I’m glad you never put up with my bullshit.” He repeats his movements but pushes a little more into your wet cunt. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Finally he pushes himself all the way in, eliciting a sharp whine from you. “Fuck, I’m so lucky.”

Your lover pushes back your thighs, allowing him to fuck you deeply. His movements stir that insatiable beast inside you, constantly lingering for more and more pleasure.

He sinks harder and faster into you as his warm hands grasp your hips, his eyes trained on the way your soaked pusst takes him so deeply. He’s locked on the sight of the way the two of you are connected just as how you are mesmerized by watching him.

“Do you feel as good as I do, darlin’?”

You respond by squeezing around his cock, “You feel so good in me.”

It was like he got a second wind by the way he fucks you even harder than before. You throw your head back as you feel the familiar rumble in your abdomen and you squeeze your legs around him, not allowing him to pull out further. Joel surprises you by using two fingers to rub tight circles against your clit. 

You bite down on your lip to try and contain the coming moan but fail. He feels too good in you, on top of you. His scent invades your mind bringing you to the ultimate climax. Your head is tossed back and a throaty loud moan is released into the air by you.

“Joeljoeljoel,” you plead, coming again against him, your legs spread so far to allow him to penetrate you deeper. Your orgasm rolls through you like waves and your body lifts in response, searching for more, more, more. 

He continues to pound harshly into you, not swaying in pace. “You’re so beautiful when you come around me, feels heavenly too,” he moans above you. The hand he had tangled in your hair moves to your jaw, his thumb caressing your bottom lip as you sigh, coming down from your high.

Joel’s thrusts soon turn erratic and sloppy as he chases his own high, you hear a deep growl rise from his throat. “Fuck, shit,” he breathes, pulling out of you swiftly, pouring himself over your stomach.

You reach up and thread your fingers in his hair, pulling him up for a kiss. You praise, “Good boy.” 

Vulnerable, Joel laughs and sits up on his knees to look down at you. Basking in your afterglow with remnants of his love smeared across the expanse of your stomach that reflected in the soft glow from the lamps and setting sun. He fingers his own hair with both hands, sweeping his messy locks back. 

He gives you an indecipherable look that he hides by shifting off the bed and rummaging through his backpack insearch of a rag to clean you with. He returns and does his usual routine while you lie on the bed, feeling warm and safe.

He returns to the bed and you crawl on top of him, seeking to add his warmth to yours to fight away the rainy chill. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close. Refusing to let you move away.

Together, the both of you came down from your blissful highs, your breaths synchronizing into calm and slow inhales and exhales. You laid your head on his shoulder, dancing your fingers along his chest drawing nonsensical designs. The two of you laid like that for a while, you listened as his headbeat fluctuated from steady to rapid and back as if he was working himself up. Just before you open your mouth to ask if he was alright, he took a sharp inhale.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts.

“Oh, no. Nothing good comes from you thinking,” you laugh, hoping to ease his mind.

Joel squeezes your hip and pulls you closer, “Hey now, none of that shit.” You laugh a little more at teasing him before he takes another sharp inhale as he continues. “As I was sayin’, I know this isn’t conventional, hell, none of this is conventional,” he gestures wildly in the air, “but I was wonderin’ if you’d do me some kind of honor and make me your husband.”

This knocks the breath out of you, more than the wonderful dick down he just gave you. You lean up and face him, trying to make eye contact but his stubbornness doesn’t let him take his gaze off of the ceiling.

“Joel, are you serious,” you ask.

He furrows his brow before letting go of your body and getting up from the bed. You’re about to start protesting when you see him reach for his own backpack and pull out a wooden box before he sits back on the bed and stares at it hard.

“Y’know I was married before. Back then. I never wanted to do it again, especially not in this world. But then I met you. That shit don’t compare to how much I love your ass. You’re smart, you keep this old man in check, and most of all,” he looks at you, “we don’t get to take life for granted any more. Not when every time we leave Jackson could mean we don’t make it back alive. I want to marry you in every meaningful way, even if you are a goddamn brat.”

As he says this, your eyes fill with tears and you sit up on the bed, facing him. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet today?”

He nods once, “What? You make me fuckin’ nervous.”

You smile wide and lay your hands on his, over the box. “I love you, Joel Miller, you stubborn old bastard. Now gimme the damn ring”

Joel lets out a sharp laugh at your words and lets a smile hang on his lips. He opens the box and hands it to you where you see a beautiful silver ring with a delicate floral design. A gasp leaves you as you take it in, how intricate and ornate it looks.

“Talked to the blacksmith and got it made for you especially,” he explains.

You take the ring from the box to admire it closer before Joel takes it from you and places it on your ring finger. “You had Gustavo make this for me?”

“I told him your favorite flowers and he did the rest.”

You’re too stunned to speak by his admission. He knew of your love and attachments to the old blacksmith which made this ring that much more beautiful in your eyes. You pull the elegant ring out of the box, treating it like it’s fragile before placing it on your finger.

“I’ve been wanting to marry you since you saved my damn life,” he admits. “But it wasn’t until last night when I told you about Sarah without feeling angry or sad when I knew it was time.”

His confession wells tears in your eyes again, his long since passed daughter was always a subject the two of you danced around, even his ex-wife. Him talking about this, about Sarah, it means he’s nearly ready to open up and it means the world to you.

“Does this mean I finally get to teach Ellie how to throw knives now?”

“Absolutely not, what the fuck?”

[thelittlestcheshire]

even if you have to cry, don't let your crown fall

a love letter to luxor’s ches elswood

Well, it’s finally time that I feel ready to post this, and while I’m aware it may be bittersweet with my upcoming departure, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Today I present to you a three hour Ches playlist, divided into sections and covering her entire time at Luxor, from when I first picked her up in June of 2019 all the way to now. There’s quite a few plot references, and small (and not as small) references to other muses throughout, especially when it comes to Elliot, so keep an eye out for those as well!

I’d like to thank Lex for giving me the idea to make these, and her support throughout the process because without her, these playlists wouldn’t even exist. And thank you to everyone who has gone on this journey with us, while I’m sorry I need to dip out early after this event to focus on my health, I love y’all so much.

The standard Ches tws apply (poor mental health, alcoholism, etc etc), and anything I think may be a bit abnormal / section exclusive is noted on the sections.

twist me like a key, then you open the lock | pre-luxor:

the section of time before I played Ches at Luxor, very James heavy. additional tws: Death (Sign of the Times), Toxic relationships (nothing explicit tho)

Sign of the Times (Jasmine Thompson) [ Remember everything will be alright. We can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here. ] // Sweet Ophelia (Zella Day) [ Singing like it's a full moon, careless now that he has you. Turns you on to the right songs, promises that you're hooked on. ] // Couple of Kids (Maggie Lindemann) [ Now I'm fallin' heavily, recklessly, trying not to lose my sensibility; but gravity, it pulls me into you. ] // Glowstick (Sofia Karlberg) [ You play me like a line-up; long con, you make me wise up. ] // Crying in the Club (Camila Cabello) [ Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, let the beat carry away, your tears as they fall, baby. Ain't no crying in the club, hey, hey, with a little faith, your tears turn to ecstasy. ] // Ember (Katherine McNamara) [ Reignite; you lost your grip on me, and now I blaze wild and free. ]

nobody shows up unless i'm paying, have a drink on me cheers to the failing | summer & fall 2019:

the first time I was at Luxor playing ches, from June - October 2019

7 rings (Ariana Grande) [ Been through some bad shit, I should be a sad bitch. Who woulda thought it'd turn me to a savage? ] // I'm a Mess (Bebe Rexha) [ “It's gonna be a good, good life;” that's what my therapists say. ] // OMG (Little Mix) [ Oh my gosh, I did it again. He said I broke his heart, it keeps happening. ] // Only Angel (Harry Styles) [ Couldn't take you home to mother in a skirt that short, but I think that's what I like about it. ] // LA Devotee (Panic! At The Disco) [ Drinking white wine in the blushing light, just another LA Devotee. ] // Woman Like Me (Little Mix feat. Nicki Minaj) [ I made a few mistakes, I regret it nightly. I broke a couple hearts that I wear on my sleeve. ]

all of this emptiness i've been sharing, it never comes when i want it to | winter 2019:

the period of time Ches went home to be with her family and was away from luxor additional tws: vomiting (Habits (Stay High))

Carmen (Lana Del Rey) [ Darlin’, darlin’, doesn't have a problem lyin’ to herself ‘cause her liquor’s top shelf ] // How You Remind Me (Avril Lavigne) [ And I've been wrong, I've been down, been to the bottom of every bottle. These five words in my head scream, "Are we havin' fun yet?" ] // Playing God (Paramore) [ This is the last second chance (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm half as good as it gets (I'll point you to the mirror). I'm on both sides of the fence (I'll point you to the mirror). Without a hint of regret, I'll hold you to it ] // Habits {Stay High} (Tove Lo) [ Staying in my play pretend, where the fun ain't got no end. Oh, can't go home alone again, need someone to numb the pain. ] // Bedroom Window (The Pretty Reckless) [ As I look out of my bedroom window; is it all real or just fantasy? I have lost touch with what makes me human, I have lost touch with reality. ] // Impossible Year (Panic! At The Disco) [ There's no sunshine, this impossible year; only black days and sky grey and clouds full of fear. ]

i wouldn't say you got the best of me, i'd say you got me somewhere in between | spring 2020:

Ches’s return to Luxor, and the months following leading up to her mass text about Leo’s dad following the Lake Bash

3 O'Clock Things (AJR) [ Would you go running if you saw the real me? Maybe you'd love 'em, yeah, maybe you'd feel me. ] // Wild Heart (Bleachers) [ Well, everything has changed and now I can't tell what matters. I will find any way to your wild heart. ] // Rise (Katy Perry) [ When the fire's at my feet again and the vultures all start circling. They're whispering, “you're out of time.” But still, I rise. ] // Don't Stop Me Now (Queen) [ I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars on a collision course. I am a satellite, I'm out of control. ] // Princesses Don't Cry (CARYS) [ Girls, so pretty and poised and soft to the touch, but God made me rough. Girls, so heavy the crown, they carry it tall, but it's weighing me down. ] // Save Rock And Roll (Fall Out Boy feat. Elton John) [ You are what you love, not who loves you. In a world full of the word 'yes', I'm here to scream... no, no (no, no). ] // Making a Monster out of Me (Katherine McNamara) [ And I don't know how to recollect the morals that I always did possess. Don't know where its leading me. ] // We Don't Have To Dance (Andy Black) [ You're never gonna get it, I'm a hazard to myself. I'll break it to you easy. This is hell, this is hell. ]

tonight it's alright, i can see the tunnel at the end of these lights | summer 2020:

summer camp and the months leading up to a new school year

Night Owls Early Birds (Foxes) [ A wild fire inside me burns. Why do I look like I'm wear for worse? Save me, save me, go underneath the ground. ] // Too Much (Carly Rae Jepsen) [ When I party, then I party too much. When I feel it, then I feel it too much. When I'm thinking, then I'm thinking too much. When I'm drinking, then I'm drinking too much. ] // Royal Blue (Alberto Rosende) [ My regrets are a shade around my neck I know. It's torturous, and there's a burden that I can't let go. ] // Who You Selling For (The Pretty Reckless) [ And when Roger showed me I was building a wall. I've been waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting a long time, waiting for it to fall. ] // Heavy (Linkin Park feat. Kiiara) [ You say that I'm paranoid, but I’m pretty sure the world is out to get me. It’s not like I make the choice to let my mind stay so fucking messy. ] // The Archer (Taylor Swift) [ I've been the archer, I've been the prey; screaming, “who could ever leave me,” darling. But who could stay? ] // Everybody Lost Somebody (Bleachers) [ And there's a reason I wake up alone in strange places, a reason I see myself in a million faces, a reason I can't stop it all from changing. So come on, motherfucker, you survive, you gotta give yourself a break. ]

no cameras catch my muffled cries. i counted days, i counted miles | fall and winter 2020(/21):

a new school year, from the start of the semester right until the aftermath of the kings’ party

So It Goes (Guards) [ I don't know who I am but I do know who I'm not. I'm just looking for a friend, I'm still searching for the plot. ] // Wasabi (Little Mix) [ Love to hate me, praise me, shame me; either way, you talk about me. ] // Think Before I Talk (Astrid S) [ Maybe I should think before I talk; I get emotional and words come out all wrong. Sometimes I'm more honest than I want. ] // Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince (Taylor Swift) [ No cameras catch my muffled cries. I counted days, I counted miles to see you there, to see you there. And now the storm is coming, but... ] // Sober Up (AJR feat. Rivers Cuomo) [ Won't you help me sober up? Growin' up, it made me numb, and I wanna feel somethin' again. ] // The Show Must Go On (Queen) [ Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score, on and on. Does anybody know what we are looking for? ] // Waiting For A Friend (The Pretty Reckless) [ My head is like a prison cell, I'm all by myself. I'm waiting for my friend to come and break me out. ] // Sober (Demi Lovato) [ I'm sorry that I'm here again, I promise I'll get help. It wasn't my intention, I'm sorry to myself. ] // Eight (Sleeping At Last) [ I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut, and bury my innocence. But here's a map, here's a shovel, here's my Achilles' heel. ]

i got this handled, i don't need rescuing | spring and early summer 2021:

ches’s progress from the end of march until now

The Man (Taylor Swift) [ I’m so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I'd get there quicker if I was a man. And I'm so sick of them coming at me again, 'cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man. ] // Princess (FLETCHER) [ But we're all going through it, so why do we do it? Why do we hide? ] // Humpty Dumpty (AJR) [ If I can't breathe, then you can't see, but aren't you excited that I'm giving you the best me? ] // My Mistake (Gabrielle Aplin) [ Am I jaded? Am I meant to feel this way?  I'm a loser, getting beat by my own game. But if I falter, well, at least it was my mistake. ] // The Climb (Miley Cyrus) [ The struggles I'm facing, the chances I'm taking; sometimes might knock me down, but no, I'm not breaking. ] // breathin (Ariana Grande) [ Some days, things just take way too much of my energy. I look up and the whole room's spinning. You take my cares away. ] // Clean (Taylor Swift) [ Ten months sober, I must admit just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it. Ten months older, I won't give in, now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it. ] // Not a Pop Song (Little Mix) [ A hamster on a wheel that's how it feels tryna be real. These unrealistic expectations said we'll make it if we fake it. ] // Queen (Loren Gray) [ Eyes on me like I'm a prize but you better recognize I'm not your angel 'cause I belong to me. ] // The Cure (Little Mix) [ This happiness was always inside me but Lord, it took a minute to find me. ]

[maybeimamuppet]

city of love

hello friends! happy wednesday! this is a request fill for NoaAvrahami6 on Wattpad, who requested the art freaks going on a long vacation/ road trip, and there's a scene to fill a request from aster-alpine on Wattpad (@deadbreadrunning here) who requested them swimming with dolphins :)

also, quick note, I have done absolutely nothing they do in this story, so I apologize for any inaccuracies. I have definitely learned the lesson that is 'write what you know'. I did as much research as my brain could handle and now I know more than I ever wanted to about the Venus de milo.

quick tw for panic attacks, but otherwise, enjoy.

-

Janis is scheming.

Cady is a week away from completing her PhD in mathematics. All she has left to do is defend her dissertation and publish her work, and then she’ll find out if the last four years of work have been worth it. She deserves presents.

Janis has two ideas. The first, is a dog. They have a cat, which Cady had agreed to adopting as a get-well present when Janis had broken her arm several years ago. Elvira is well-loved and very spoiled, but Cady has been begging for a dog. No time like the present. Janis found a reliable rescue breeder who recently had a litter of golden retriever puppies, and would be taking Cady to pick one soon.

Her second idea is a trip. Cady loves to travel, but has been so busy for the last several years that they haven’t gotten an opportunity to go any further than their trips back home to Illinois since their honeymoon in Kenya. Janis has family on her father’s side in France, that she also hasn’t been able to see in several years.

So, she’s booking a flight, also deciding to let Damian come as a surprise. He had recently landed the lead role in a revival of Little Shop of Horrors on Broadway, so he deserves a present too. He doesn’t start rehearsals for another few months, which gives Janis the perfect window of opportunity.

She finds a flight with a few seats available for the evening Cady will (hopefully) receive her degree; a miraculously non-stop flight to Marseille, where her family lives. Janis figures they’ll stop there for a few days, and then travel to Paris to see some of the more iconic sights.

Janis books the tickets, figuring it’ll either be a happy surprise or a consolation trip, and knowing it’s very likely to be the former. She clears her browser history after, in case Cady gets an urge to snoop. Then, she figures she should probably let Damian know to prepare for an international trip in a week.

danis: hey u wanna go to france??

jamian: What did you do

danis: booked us a trip to france

jamian: Janis

jamian: Why

danis: bc my wife becomes a doctor in a week and deserves a gift, and i want you to come. and also bc you got seymour and deserve a gift too

jamian: Oh

jamian: That’s actually really sweet, Jan

danis: it’s my yearly act of goodwill

jamian: I figured lmao

jamian: When are we leaving?

danis: flights on friday at 7, i’ll pick u up. i wanna surprise caddy at her school and then we’ll go right to the airport

jamian: Aww how cute

jamian: Do you need Aaron to watch Ellie?

danis: oh shit yeah i forgot about that

danis: tell him i’ll bring him back whatever he wants as a thank you and a sorry i can’t bring you with us

jamian: U really forgot your whole cat

danis: no!!! i just forgot we can’t bring her!!! i’m a good cat mom!!!!!

jamian: You give her potato chips

jamian: Like on the reg

danis: because she likes them

danis: and i don’t give her enough to hurt her

jamian: Press x to doubt

jamian: Aaron said he’ll cat sit for some chocolates from France and lots of photos

danis: tits i can do that

danis: oh shit caddy’s home i gtg love u

jamian: Love you too tell her I say hi

danis: 📷

“Hey, Peanut, how was your day?” Janis asks gently. Cady lets her exhausted glare answer. “That good, huh? Do you want snuggles?” Cady nods, but signs that she wants to take a shower first. Her day must have been rough if she won’t speak. “Of course, baby, go ahead. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”

Cady signs a thank you in return, pecking her gently in greeting and scratching Elvira before heading into the bathroom. Janis decides to go the extra mile today and lights a nice candle in the bedroom, and pulls out a book to read to her. Cady loves the sound of Janis’ voice, so whenever her day has been especially tough they have story time, squeezing in as much of Janis’ voice and good snuggles as they can.

Cady doesn’t return until nearly 45 minutes later, in a set of Janis’ pajamas and with her hair neatly braided over her shoulder. Janis reaches for her, pulling her into a tight cuddle and squeezing gently in case she’s also having a sensory overload.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She murmurs softly, scratching Cady’s scalp gently in the way that always makes her practically melt in Janis’ lap.

Cady sighs, burying her face in Janis’ chest further. “Just... a lot, today. I have a lot to do, and a lot is riding on this week. I’m gonna be stressed until Friday. And maybe after that, if I don’t make it.”

“You’re gonna make it, baby. You’re a genius, you did two degrees in the time most people do one. And you’ve been working so hard and carefully, I know you’re going to do it. And if you don’t, everybody at that school is catching these hands,” Janis replies.

Cady chuckles at that, finally poking her face out. She grunts slightly as Elvira suddenly jumps onto her back, joining their cuddle puddle happily. “Thanks, Bluejay. You’re... you’ve been the best partner I could’ve asked for, through all of this. I wouldn’t have even made it this far without you.”

“Yes, you would have,” Janis says. “But I’m glad I could be here for you. I love you.”

Cady inches her way up to Janis’ face so as not to disturb the cat snoozing on her back, but makes it and leans in for a kiss. “I love you too. Are you gonna read to me?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Janis replies. “Figured it might cheer you up a bit.”

Cady nods happily, cuddling into her and resting her head on her shoulder. She’s sound asleep before Janis even reaches the third chapter, so Janis sets an alarm and joins her in an impromptu nap.

————-

Cady barely speaks for the next few days, frantically studying, rehearsing, and proofreading everything. Janis is worried, but knows there’s not a lot she can do. She stays out of her way and brings her caffeinated teas and snacks from time to time.

The day before D-Day, Janis makes waffles for dinner, Cady’s favorite. Cady is still at the desk in their bedroom, where she’s been for nearly six days straight.

“Hey,” Janis says gently as she comes to drop off her plate. She usually eats her own dinner on the bed, spending time with Cady as she studies. But this time, Cady snatches her wrist once she sets the plate down and won’t let her leave. “You okay?”

Cady hasn’t looked at her yet, but doesn’t let go of her arm. She just stares at her massive book, clutching Janis’ wrist like a lifeline, like it’s the only thing holding her to Earth. Suddenly, she lets out a choked sob.

“Baby, hey,” Janis says softly. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t do this, Janis,” Cady cries desperately. “I-I dont-I can’t-“

“Hey, shh,” Janis hushes. “Come here, get away from this for now.” She picks Cady up from her chair and carries her to the bed, letting Cady lock tight around her and sob into her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t do it,” Cady wails. “It’s not good enough, and I’m- and I’m out of time, I can’t- I can’t do it!” She suddenly starts crying much harder, and is practically gasping for breath in between sobs.

“Baby, hey, look at me,” Janis insists, cupping her cheeks to look into her eyes. They’re wide and frantic, she looks terrified. She’s having an anxiety attack. Janis quickly tries to remember what she does for her own. The countdown strategy pops into her head, and she decides it’s worth a try. “Focus on me, okay? Tell me five things you can see.”

Cady chokes another sob and clings to her desperately, but manages to splutter out a reply. “Um-um... you-your face, and um-and... um... cat, and... the-and your p-painting, and the cl-the clock, and your tattoos.”

“Good, Butterfly,” Janis says gently. She holds Cady’s face again gently when she tries to look back to the desk. “No, hey, don’t look over there. Tell me four things you can hear.”

“There’s a-there’s a siren, outside,” Cady sobs. “And... and a bird, and... um... you talk-talking, and the-the cat. Chat-chattering.”

“You’re doing good, angel, breathe,” Janis says. “Three things you can feel.”

“Hold-holding me, you-you holding m-me,” Cady chokes. “And the-the bed. ‘S soft. And-and your hair. Tickles.”

“Another breath, baby. Two things you can smell,” Janis coaxes gently.

“Dinner,” Cady whimpers. “And you-your shampoo. Apples.”

“Almost done, baby, what’s something you can taste?” Janis asks, holding her tighter.

“Tea. From earlier,” Cady sniffles.

“Good job, Butterfly. Are you feeling any better?” Janis asks quietly, laying them down and squishing Cady on top of her. Cady nods slightly against her shoulder.

“A little,” she says quietly. She’s still crying, but sounds much less frantic. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, angel, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Janis says as she kisses her forehead. “Can you tell me what’s happening now?”

Cady takes a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’m scared. I’ve had years to get this right, get it perfect. It’s not. I don’t... I’m scared to defend it, what if I mess up, or... stutter or stim too much and I don’t pass?”

“If you don’t pass for stuttering or stimming during your speech then everyone grading you is fucking ableist and I will fight all of them,” Janis growls protectively. “But we can figure something out later if it worries you. And I’m positive your dissertation and thesis are wonderful. You’ve been working so hard, non-stop, for years. It may not be perfect, but if you’ve been doing anything but your best work all these years I’ll be stunned. You’re going to pass, and you’ll be Doctor Heron, and then I have a surprise for you to celebrate.”

“A surprise?” Cady asks quietly with a sniffle. “What did you get?”

“It’s a surprise, Peanut,” Janis chuckles. “You’ll find out tomorrow. But I think you’ll like it.”

“Okay,” Cady says so sadly that Janis wants to spoil everything now. But she manages to resist, knowing her reaction tomorrow will be better. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby. Eat with me, you need a break,” Janis says as she grabs Cady’s plate from the desk. “Bed picnic.”

Cady reaches for her just barely warm waffles. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Janis says as she leans over for a kiss.

“Can I try to guess what you got?” Cady asks with a bit more energy.

“Sure,” Janis chuckles. “But even if you guess it I’m not gonna tell you.”

Cady groans. “I wanna knoooooow.”

“And you will know tomorrow,” Janis giggles. “Guess away, Butterfly.”

“A puppy?” Cady asks.

Yes, Janis thinks. “No.” She says.

Cady pouts. “Um... did you paint me something?”

“Nope,” Janis chuckles as she takes another bite of her waffles.

“Hm... a... can you give me a hint?” Cady pleads. Janis tries her hardest to resist the puppy eyes.

“Fine, one hint,” Janis groans. The puppy eyes still haven’t lost their magic. “Think bigger.”

“Bigger... um... two puppies?”

“No,” Janis laughs. “Just eat. You’ll find out in less than a day, you can live with not knowing for that long.”

“Fine,” Cady grumbles. She finishes her waffles quietly and cuddles back into Janis. “Can you stay? I need to proofread it again but I don’t want to be alone.”

“Sure, Kitkat. Let me wash the dishes and I’ll be right back,” Janis replies. She rushes through scrubbing their plates and everything clean, then grabs her easel and joins Cady in the bedroom. She paints away while Cady reads, both of them working in comfortable silence. Janis has always loved these moments, where the silence doesn’t need to be filled, and they’re both content to just be with each other.

Cady finishes several hours later, closing her book with a deep sigh. “Jay?”

“Mm?” Janis hums in reply.

“You said we could figure something out. To stop me stimming,” Cady says as she turns to face her.

“I never said I’d stop you stimming,” Janis says, stepping around her easel. “I just meant that we’d find a way to make it less obvious, if you’re so worried about it.”

“Oh.”

Janis reaches for her. “Why are you so worried about it?”

Cady comes to nuzzle into her embrace quietly. “I dunno. It’s... it can be embarrassing, sometimes. I’ve done all this stuff, I’m hopefully about to get my PhD, but I still have to... curl my toes a certain way or flick my hands or fold myself up like a pretzel to get my brain to work like everyone else’s. And people stare, you can tell they think I’m childish.”

Janis hums sadly. “I get it, but it shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of. It doesn’t make you any less professional, or brilliant, it just helps you regulate, right?” Cady nods against her chest. “Yeah. You have all this knowledge in your brain now, it makes sense it needs a little wiggle to help kick it in gear and sort it all out.”

Cady chuckles. “Thanks, Jayjay.”

“And it feels good, remember when I tried all your favorites?” Janis says. “Satisfying.”

“Oh, yeah, it feels so good,” Cady laughs. “But what plan do you have?”

“Pick what you’re gonna wear tomorrow and make sure it has pockets,” Janis replies. “Big ones.”

“Where are you going?” Cady calls as she roots through her closet.

“Nowhere, hang on!” Janis calls back from the living room. She comes back with a necklace, a small cube, and a few other small stim toys she had ordered. Cady looks at them curiously as she pulls out a formal blue jumpsuit and blazer from the closet.

“What are those?” She asks as she rests it on their bed.

“Stim stuff. I made this one,” Janis says as she holds up the cube. “Julie sent me some of her old Legos, and then there’s a spring inside so it’s a little button. And it doesn’t make any noise or anything.”

Cady takes it curiously, pushing the button in the center a few times. “You made this? For me?”

“Yeah, of course. I made this too,” Janis says as she hands over the necklace. “I ordered the charm, it’s a chewy one, and then put the beads on so it’s not, like, obvious it’s a chewy necklace. I figured you could have it on if you wanted, it might help.”

Cady takes the necklace too, gnawing on the charm gently to test it out. Janis thought ahead, the chain is one she can handle. “Thank you, mpenzi.”

“And then I bought these. You can have them in your pocket and use them there, nobody would know if you didn’t want them to. They’d just think you were holding your hands in your pockets,” Janis says rapidly. “Oh, and you can borrow some of my shoes so you have room to move your feet inside, that won’t be noticeable either.”

Cady throws herself at Janis, knocking her backwards onto the bed and kissing her hard. “I love you so much. You’re perfect. Thank you.”

Janis kisses her back just as hard, tangling her hand in her hair and resting the other just above her bum. “You’re welcome, Butterfly. I love you too.”

Cady kisses her again gently, brushing their lips together a few times. “I’m sorry, by the way. I know I’ve been ignoring you this week, you don’t deserve that.”

“Babe, you’ve barely slept this week, and you only eat when I bring you food, I’m more worried about that,” Janis chuckles. “I get the rest of my life with you, wifey. I can handle a week for you to work every now and again. After tomorrow we get to spend more time together again anyway.”

Cady smiles at her. “We’ll do something special. I’m gonna shower, but I wanna cuddle you all night tonight. You’re right, I need more sleep anyway.”

“Okay, Kitkat. Have fun,” Janis says as she pushes her wife towards the en-suite. “I’ll be here.”

-

Janis remembers she forgot to feed Elvira her own dinner when she comes to plop onto her lap.

“Sorry, Ellie, I forgot to feed you,” Janis chuckles as she scratches her ear. “Let’s go.”

Elvira trots off to the kitchen, Janis following quickly behind her. Ellie meows at her when they finally reach the fridge, stretching up to peek in as Janis opens it.

“Hold on, you get a new can tonight,” Janis says in response to Elvira’s questioning chirp. She heads to the closet to grab one, noticing the air mattress on the top shelf they had bought for a camping trip. “Hm.”

Janis scoops out some of her food into her bowl and puts the can in the fridge, then grabs the air mattress from the shelf along with the pump for it.

“God, why is this thing so loud? Some of us have mattresses to blow up in secret,” Janis hisses. Once it’s done, she realizes she probably should have done it outside as she tries to shove it through the door. She grabs some sheets from the closet and the blankets from their bed, making a lovely little nest on their balcony.

Cady comes out of the shower as she’s fluffing the pillows, calling for her as she brushes her hair out.

“Jay? Are you okay? I heard noises,” she says as she comes out wrapped in her bathrobe. “What happened to our bed?”

“I’m fine, put on something warm and come here,” Janis calls from the other room.

“Okay,” Cady says nervously. “What are you up to?”

“God, you set a bunch of chickens loose in a school one time and suddenly you can’t surprise anyone anymore,” Janis jokes. “Just come here, you’re gonna like it.”

“I like your surprises, but you can be a little extra sometimes,” Cady teases. “Oh my god.”

“You like it?” Janis says. “We haven’t been able to do this for a whi-ack!” She grunts slightly as Cady leaps into her embrace, smooching all over her face.

“I love it, and I love you,” Cady says. “So much.”

“I love you more,” Janis teases as she carries her outside.

“No, I love you more,” Cady responds as she’s laid down gently. “I love you most.”

“Mm, you can’t win this fight, Peanut,” Janis hums, getting cut off as Cady pulls her down to kiss her hungrily.

“Then let me show you.”

————-

The next morning, Janis wakes up with Cady (very early) and makes a special breakfast with lots of fruit and protein. Cady eats happily but silently, once again giving a last proofread of all her materials.

Janis gives her a big hug and sweet kiss before she sends her out the door, Cady dressed in her fancy outfit, Janis’ shoes, and with her pockets full of stim toys.

Janis has to pack quickly once she’s gone, carefully but hastily packing their suitcase and carry on bags based on a list she’s incredibly thankful she had the foresight to make.

-

In the late afternoon, Janis picks Damian up in their Uber to Cady’s school to surprise her. He puts his suitcase in the trunk along with what looks to be a poster.

He shakes with excitement as he climbs in next to her, and they both chat excitedly about their plans for France. Before they know it, they’re at Cady’s university and ready to surprise her.

“Aww, you made her a sign?” Janis asks as she finally hugs him.

“Yeah, duh,” Damian says, showing off his ‘Congrats Doctor Heron!’ poster. “And it’s reversible in case of disaster.” He flips it around and shows it says ‘Good job anyway!’ on the other side.

“She’ll love it,” Janis says as she starts bouncing anxiously. “She’ll be happy to see you, too, she doesn’t even know we’re here.”

“Aww. I’m excited to see her reaction, do you remember when you threw that picnic before we graduated high school? That was nothing compared to this and she was so fucking excited,” Damian says.

“Yeah. She’s so cute,” Janis says. Her phone starts ringing suddenly. “Oh, it’s her, this is it.”

Damian squeals as she picks up and switches to speakerphone.

“Jay, I did it!” Cady calls loudly through the speakers. “I did it! I got it, I’m a doctor!”

Janis and Damian both start jumping up at down at the same time. “Congratulations, baby! I’m so proud of you!” Janis says. Damian stays quiet but is visibly trying to hold back his own comments. They see her come bursting out the doors then, running down the steps. “Hey, look to your right. No, other right.”

Cady looks to see her wife and best friend waiting for her and bouncing to get her attention. She runs towards them, laughing happily. “What are you doing here?! Oh my god, you made a sign and everything!”

“This is your surprise!” Janis laughs as her wife jumps into her arms. She spins her around a few times before Cady reaches out for Damian, so he pulls her into another tight hug to congratulate her.

“My best friend is a doctor!” Damian calls loudly as he also spins her around before wrapping her up protectively.

“Why do you guys have suitcases?” Cady asks confusedly, slightly muffled as her face is squished against Damian.

“Because we’re going on a trip!” Janis answers. “I told you to think bigger yesterday, this is it! Our flight is in a few hours, we have to go to the airport.”

“A trip?” Cady squeals happily. “Where are we going?!”

“France,” Janis tries to answer, barely getting the word out before she’s cut off by the most adorable squeal she’s ever heard and her wife leaping into her arms again. “Are you excited?”

“Yes! Of course I’m excited, oh my god!” Cady shrieks. “This is the best day ever!”

“Good! I packed a comfy outfit in your carry on, you can change at the airport,” Janis laughs happily as Cady kisses her over and over.

“Okay, come on! Let’s go, let’s go let’s go! I wanna go to France!” Cady calls, lugging them both towards the parking lot.

Janis and Damian both laugh as they’re dragged away. “Peanut, slow down, we have time.”

“Oh. Oops,” Cady says sheepishly. “But come on, I’m excited, let’s go!”

“We can tell, Cads, just slow down,” Damian pants. “Be excited at a reasonable speed.”

Cady’s bouncing now that they’ve stopped walking, having to get her excitement out somehow. “Janis, carry me, I can’t slow down.”

“Okay, come here,” Janis laughs, carrying Cady piggyback to their next Uber.

————-

Cady heads into the bathroom once they’ve passed security to change out of her formal outfit, but she leaves the necklace on and has the stim toy Janis made for her in her hand. She’s trying to gently stuff her poster in her bag as she walks back. She insisted on keeping it, even though Damian said she didn’t have to. Miraculously, she manages to make it fit without too much damage.

She tugs her carry on backpack back on as she approaches Janis and Damian again. “Where are we going in France?” She asks once they’re back together. Damian also looks at Janis curiously, she hasn’t told him either.

“Marseille, first. My family said we can stay with them for a few days, they have a huge house with tons of rooms. Then we’ll go to Paris and look around there,” Janis says. Cady gives yet another excited squeal and hugs her again. “Do you want Cinnabon’s? They’re right over there.”

“Oh, can we? I haven’t eaten since breakfast, I’m starving,” Cady says. She’s still bouncing and her hands are flapping happily, but she’s calmed down just a touch.

“How-wha-how do you have that much energy on just breakfast?” Damian asks with something akin to awe.

“I’m excited!” Cady almost yells, prompting several glares from those around them. She shrinks into herself slightly in embarrassment. “Oops.”

Damian chuckles. “Let’s go, my treat.” Cady perks up a bit and tugs her wife after them. She happily scarfs down her cinnamon roll and chatters excitedly about France.

They head to their gate to wait for their flight for a while, when Cady suddenly realizes something and scrambles for her phone. “I forgot to tell my parents! What time is it?”

“Almost exactly six,” Janis says. “So five for them.”

“Okay, they should both be home by now,” Cady says with relief. She dials her dad’s number, and he picks up on the first ring. “Hi Dad! Is Mom with you?”

“Hi Cady, she’s in the other room. What’s up?” Her dad replies.

“Get Mom, I wanna tell you together,” Cady insists.

“Okay,” her dad says, slightly confused. “Honey, it’s Cady, she says she has something to tell us.”

“Hello Cady,” her mom calls loudly through the speaker. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m good Mom! How are you?” Cady chuckles. For tech savvy people, they never quite got the hang of speakerphone.

“Good, hon. What’s this news you have?” Her mom replies.

“I got my PhD today! I’m officially a doctor!” Cady says, and quickly has to block the phone speaker with her arm to muffle the volume of their cheers and congratulations. Once it stops vibrating quite so much, she pulls it back to continue talking. “Thanks! Oh, and I won’t be able to call you for a little while. Janis surprised me with a trip to France, we’re going to see her family. And Paris.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” her mom sighs. “Take lots of photos for us.”

“I will. I love you guys, bye!” Cady calls, and hangs up before either of them can get off on a tangent and keep her there for an hour. “There.”

“Everything handled?” Damian jokes.

“Yep. Oh, that reminds me, Janis, can you... give me a rundown of your family again? I haven’t quite gotten everyone down,” Cady says shyly. To be fair, Janis has a lot of relatives and their names sound quite similar in a lot of cases.

“Yeah,” Janis chuckles. She knows Damian probably needs a refresher too, the last time he got to come visit everyone was in high school. “My homophobic great-grandma finally died when I was in college so we don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

“Jay! Be nice,” Cady scolds. She’d heard bad stories about the woman, but speaking ill of the dead still doesn’t sit right with her.

“I’m just saying. Anyway, Nana Annette is her daughter, my grandma. She’s, like, eighty-five, but she’s chill. She might say some offensive stuff because she’s either senile or just old, but she means well most of the time. Her husband died when I was a baby, I barely remember him, so hopefully he won’t be around. Then there’s the aunts and uncles.”

Cady pulls out her phone to take notes, this is where things get dicey.

“Jean-Luc is the oldest, he’s the funny one. His wife is Béatrice, she’s... tense, but nice. The next one is Charlotte, she’s the single one who I’m convinced is a closet lesbian, you remember? She’s hella rich and just shows up sometimes with presents. Anyway. Next is Gabrielle, and her husband Charles, he’s the English guy. My dad was next, then Phillipe is the youngest, and his wife is Jeanne.”

Cady blinks, already terrified. “And your cousins?”

“They’ll understand if you don’t remember them all, don’t worry,” Janis chuckles. “Jean-Luc and Béatrice have Josephine and Jacques, they’re twins. Then they had Annalise, and then Luca, they named him after my dad. Gabrielle and Charles have Bella, Celeste, and Clara, Celeste is a bitch but the other two are nice. Jeanne and Phillipe have Emile and Sylvie.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cady groans, trying to keep everyone under wraps.

“Some of my cousins have babies too now, do you want their names?” Janis teases. “Don’t worry about it, guys. They’ll understand and I’ll make sure you learn everyone’s names. And we probably won’t see all of them, either.”

“Oh, babies? Yay,” Cady says. “I might as well learn them too.”

“Yeah, there’s a few that are still actual babies. Josephine and her husband just had Hugo a few months ago, and then she has Anabelle and Charlise, they’re like... four,” Janis says. “And then Bella has Benjamin, he’s a year old or so.”

“Aww. Okay. I’ll have to study on the plane,” Cady says, sending her list to Damian and shutting her phone off.

“Little Slice, no, I’ll study for us and fill you in,” Damian says. “You’ve studied too much in your life. Doctor.”

Cady smiles at the reminder of her new title. “Fine. Oh, is that us?”

Janis listens to the voice ringing out over the PA system. “Yeah. They’re not boarding us quite yet, but we should be ready.”

“Oh, yay!” Cady says happily.

—————

Once they finally board, Cady begs to have the window seat. Janis and Damian are both afraid of heights and let her have it willingly.

Cady wiggles happily as the light comes on to fasten their belts, looking happily out the window as they prepare to take off. Janis pops some gum in her mouth, and offers a piece to both her travel buddies. Cady takes hers and then takes Janis’ hand, squeezing it to comfort her. Janis squeezes back thankfully.

Cady offers her one ear of the headphones she has so they can watch a movie together. Janis takes it and rests her head on Cady’s shoulder, flipping up the arm rest and cuddling into her wife. Damian flips up his own and lies down over both of them, his head ending up in Cady’s lap as he does his own thing on his phone. Cady just laughs and plays with his curly hair.

After three movies, Cady falls asleep with her head on Janis’ shoulder. They’re about four and a half hours into their seven hour flight, and it is now around Cady’s bedtime. Janis finds Damian also asleep on their legs, and decides to let him stay even though hers are going a bit numb.

She turns her head slightly to kiss Cady’s hair, thinking about the events of the day. Twenty-four hours ago she had fallen asleep on an air mattress on their balcony after a wild night, held securely in the arms of her favorite redhead. Now, she’s several thousand feet in the air, cuddled up with two of her favorite people on their way to another country. Life is a hell of a thing.

—————

Janis is startled awake by the announcement that they’re about to land, and wakes Damian and Cady so they can fasten their seatbelts again. It’s about two in the morning according to their body clocks, so they all blink groggily and rub at their eyes.

“Janis?” Cady asks suddenly as they start to descend.

“Hmm?” Janis hums exhaustedly.

“Who’s watching Elvira?”

“Aaron,” Janis yawns. “He just wants chocolate as payment.”

“Mmkay,” Cady hums. The plane finally touches down and she gives an exhausted “Yay.”

Janis chuckles. “Come on, my cousin is picking us up and then we can sleep in a real bed for a while.”

“Which one?” Damian yawns.

“Annalise,” Janis replies. “She’s a morning person, she’s the only one they trusted to come get us.”

They trudge through baggage claim and out of the airport, down a long line of cars waiting to pick people up. Suddenly, a clear “Janis!” rings out with a brisk French accent.

Janis greets her cousin, who laughs at their exhausted faces. “Bonjour, Anna.”

They have a quick catch up in French as they load all their bags into the car, and Damian’s eyes suddenly go wide.

“What happened?” Cady asks in concern.

“Nothing,” Damian says hastily. “I... forgot they’d actually speak, like, French here. I thought I was just too tired to understand them for a second.”

They both laugh as they climb in, Cady squished in the middle since she’s the smallest. She’s not complaining, this way her head will land on someone’s shoulder when she inevitably falls asleep again.

—————

She wakes up several hours later in a soft bed in a room she doesn’t recognize, spooning Janis. She checks the adjusted time on her phone and finds it to be about one in the afternoon, which isn’t terrible. They have a few hours left in the day to get things settled.

She leans down to kiss behind Janis’ ear as lightly as she can, murmuring a quiet “J’taime tellement,” into her ear before cuddling back into her wife. Apparently she wasn’t quite gentle enough, because Janis stirs and turns to face her with a grin.

“J’taime aussi, mon papillon,” Janis hums as she leans in for a kiss. “How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well, I don’t even remember getting here,” Cady replies.

“I carried you in, you looked exhausted,” Janis says. “What time is it?”

“Just after one,” Cady says as she strokes through Janis’ short hair. “I still love this haircut.”

“I can tell,” Janis chuckles as she cuddles in closer. “You don’t miss the blonde, though?”

“I do,” Cady hums thoughtfully. “But this length is so satisfying to play with. And your shave is in an easier place to reach now.”

Janis had continued sporting the side shave, and stretched it to an undercut at the back of her head as well when she cut the blonde off. Cady loves running her fingers over the buzzed areas, and Janis certainly doesn’t complain.

“Guess I’ll keep it like this then. Should we go get Damian?” Janis says as she leans in for another sweet kiss. “Can’t let him sleep too much longer.”

“Yeah. Are we doing anything today?” Cady asks as she follows Janis out of bed.

“I don’t really have anything planned from this point, I just figured we’d walk around and if you find something you want to do, we’ll do it. But maybe we should start tomorrow,” Janis replies. “Nana’s definitely gonna throw some family reunion type thing tonight and make a shit ton of food, we should save our energy for that.”

“Aww. That sounds fun,” Cady says. “But also tiring, you’re right.”

“They are usually pretty fun,” Janis hums. “And Charlotte is coming, she tells good stories, you’ll like those.”

“Is she the one who told that story about the time you fell into that lake and came back to a picnic totally drenched and told me to watch you around water at our wedding?” Cady asks.

“Yeah,” Janis mumbles sheepishly. “I can show you that lake, if you want. It’s nearby.”

Cady nods excitedly. “Of course. Oh, and hey, guess what?”

Janis turns from the door she’s approaching to leave their little room. “What?”

“I love you,” Cady says, pulling her down for a kiss. Janis has to fight a squeal.

“I love you too,” she replies after a second. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Cady whispers against her lips. “I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you too. I want this trip to celebrate all of us. Not just me and Damian. You deserve this too.”

“Okay,” Janis whispers back. “Thanks.”

Cady chuckles. “You promise you’ll tell me if you see something you want to do, too?”

Janis kisses her soundly one more time. “I promise.”

“Good. Let’s go get D,” Cady says with a final peck.

“Okay.”

—————

“Damian!” Janis calls as she leaps onto his bed.

“Cheese and crackers!” Damian yelps, throwing himself to the ground. “Janis!”

“Jay, I swear to god,” Cady groans from the doorway. “That is not what I meant by ‘wake him up’.”

“It worked though,” Janis says as she helps him up. “Morning!”

Damian glares at her. “Hello, Jan. Is it actually morning?”

“No, it’s almost two in the afternoon,” Cady replies. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Damian says as he brushes himself off.

“Good. Janis says there’s gonna be some sort of big dinner thing, can you help me study everyone?” Cady asks.

“Yeah,” Damian answers.

“Oh, hold on a second,” Janis says, running from the room. She returns with a framed photo of her whole family from a few years ago. “Here. It’s old, but everyone looks pretty much the same.”

Janis sits in between them and points everyone out so they can match names to faces. Cady looks a bit overwhelmed, but eventually can point everyone out.

“I’m gonna go shower, if you stay here nobody will bother you guys,” she says once her part is done. “Have fun.”

-

By the time Janis is put together enough for a family gathering, Cady and Damian know all her relatives by name and how they relate to one another. Janis is kind of touched that they both put so much effort into learning everyone in her family.

She hadn’t quite been expecting every member of her family to show up, but they all make an appearance at some point. Cady isn’t big on crowds and Damian hasn’t spoken French since high school, so they both stick around her throughout the meal.

Her aunt Charlotte shows up fashionably late as always, with gifts for the three of them. She greets Janis with a hug and hands her a set of incredibly expensive oil paints, and then looks around for Cady.

“Where is the doctor one?” She asks in fluent but heavily accented English. Cady peeks up from where she’s crowded by all of the younger cousins, coming over to say hello.

“Bonjour,” she says shyly. Charlotte greets her and hands over her gift, which looks to be a tasteful diamond bracelet. Cady frantically leans in to whisper to Janis. “I can’t take this, this had to have cost at least a thousand euro.”

Charlotte, evidently, hears her whispers and laughs. “Nonsense, Cady darling. You are smarter than anyone here, you deserve my money even more than my dear Janis. I am glad she is spoiling you.”

Cady blinks a few times, before begrudgingly accepting her beautiful gift. “Thank you, it really is beautiful.”

“But of course. Now where is darling Damian?” Charlotte responds. Damian comes over from the kitchen to say hello as well, and gets a very soft cashmere sweater.

-

Janis struggles to guide her wife and friend through a family dinner, and Cady collapses on their bed by the time they’re excused.

“Did your dad actually punch your great-aunt in the stomach?” She asks with a slight chuckle. “Just, like, no warning, full force?”

“I’ve heard that story from a minimum of five relatives, so I think it’s probably true,” Janis responds. “But he was only about five. And I think the stories explain a lot.”

“Do you miss him?” Cady asks quietly. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” Janis says. “But I don’t think I miss him in the same way you miss your brother. Like, I wish I had gotten to know my dad, and I wish I had grown up with a decent father figure. But I didn’t really get to know him well enough to miss him as a person.”

Cady hums empathetically. “From what I’ve heard, you’re a lot like him anyway. But I wish those things too.”

“Thanks,” Janis mumbles. “I’ll take you around town tomorrow, we can see all the places from the stories.”

“Okay,” Cady grins. “J’taime.”

Janis smiles back as she cuddles into her wife. “J’taime aussi. Bonsoir.”

————-

The next morning, they both wake around eleven, starting to adjust to the time difference. Janis takes both Cady and Damian on a walk around the nearby area.

Cady laughs happily as Janis explains stories and where they happened, pointing out the shop where her mother met her father, the lake she had fallen into as a child, the tree her aunt had carved every family member’s initials into.

Cady stays behind for just a second at the shop, brushing a hand over the wall to thank it for sparking the events that gave her her beloved. She can almost feel the history inside.

For the time of year, it’s a remarkably cool day, and once they’ve stopped for a quick break Cady and Damian both ask to keep going. They go a bit farther than they had anticipated, into a larger area of the city.

Damian wanders off for a second, having spotted a sign on a building nearby. “Cads, come here, you read French better than me.”

Cady approaches, leaving Janis behind for a moment to join him. “Swim with... I don’t remember this word.”

“Dolphins,” Janis says suddenly from behind them, making them both jump.

“Swim with dolphins?” Cady asks. “Oh, that sounds fun! Can we, Jayjay? Pleeeeease please please?”

“Of course, Butterfly,” Janis says with a grin. “I’ll see what they have for tomorrow.”

“Oh, yay!” Cady squeals, hugging Janis tightly. Damian just cocks an eyebrow at them and joins the hug.

—————

Janis has to pin Cady to the bed to get her to sleep that night. But somehow by morning, their positions are reversed. Janis wakes up to her wife happily straddling her back, drumming her hands against her cheeks to wake her up.

“Caddy. What are you doing?” Janis groans sleepily.

“It’s dolphin day! I’m waking you up,” Cady responds far too brightly for eight in the morning. Janis grabs and pulls her back to cuddle.

“Go back to sleep,” Janis grumbles. “G’night.”

“Fine,” Cady chuckles. She should’ve known better, Janis never would’ve woken up this early anyway. She’s too excited to go back to sleep herself, so she rolls onto her side and watches Janis sleep. It’s rare that she’s awake when Janis isn’t, so she tries to memorize the way Janis looks while she sleeps whenever she gets the chance.

-

Janis finally stirs about two hours later, smiling as she sees her wife looking at her. She kisses her gently before she stretches. “Did you go back to sleep?”

“No,” Cady says. “I’m too excited.”

“You’re too cute,” Janis says, voice still rough with sleep. “It’s not ‘til three, babe.”

“Ugh,” Cady groans. She rolls on top of Janis again, straddling her front this time. She leans down to squish her face against Janis’ neck. Janis feels more than hears the words, “I wanna see them. Dolphins are so cute.”

Damian comes in then to get them up for breakfast. “Y’all-whoa! Okay bye.”

“Dame, come back! We’re not doing anything,” Janis calls. “I’m not that stupid.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Damian grumbles. “Breakfast is ready, your grandma made crepes.”

“Ooh!” Cady squeals, flying out of bed to get ready. Janis follows quickly, pushing Damian out the door so they can get dressed.

-

Cady eats more happily this time, now that she’s not surrounded by quite so many people. But now Janis has to keep her occupied until they get to go to the dolphins.

Cady is chattering excitedly, and poor Damian still looks exhausted. Janis knows he’s excited too, dolphins are his favorite animal, but he’s very much not a morning person. Janis isn’t quite awake herself. Time for some drastic measures.

“Peanut, do you want to look at some old pictures? I know Nana has some around here somewhere,” she says, griping internally.

“Like baby pictures?” Cady says excitedly. “Lemme at ‘em.”

“Stay here. I’ll be back,” Janis grumbles. She returns a few minutes later with a photo album. “This is from just before we moved to America, I think.”

Cady makes grabby hands for the book and flips excitedly to the first page. Damian perks up a little and sits on her other side. Cady coos when baby Janis makes an appearance.

“Your little cheeks! Oh my god,” Cady squeals.

“Have you not seen any old pictures of Janis before?” Damian asks in confusion.

“Not this little, the only ones she’s let me see are from five and up,” Cady says as she turns to the next page. This one features baby Janis chewing on one of her feet. “Oh my god, look at you.”

“I’ve seen them, Cads, I’m good,” Janis chuckles. Cady flips the page again to one of her dad holding her.

“Is this your dad?” Cady asks quietly. Janis nods with a grin.

“Yeah,” she says. Cady looks back and forth between the photo and her wife.

“You look like him,” Cady says after a moment. “Dame, look at their jawlines. And-oh, Jay, smile. See? Exactly the same.”

“Shit, yeah,” Damian says, looking back and forth. “And the... is it their noses?”

“Yes! That’s what it is,” Cady says. Janis is confused, but happy that there’s such a strong resemblance. “My god, you were so cute!”

“Were?” Janis jokes.

“Oh, shush. You’re always on my case for calling you cute,” Cady says, gently flicking her ear.

“Yeah, yeah. I need to go shower, y’all can keep looking if you want,” Janis says, gesturing to Damian behind Cady’s back to keep her busy. He nods.

—————

By the time they’re outside the dolphin place, Cady and Damian are holding hands and bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Come on, dorks, let’s see some dolphins,” Janis says as she leads them into the massive building. It spans the area of several blocks, and a vast majority of it are large tanks and pools.

A lady welcomes them at the main desk and introduces herself as Bernadette, handing over their life jackets and taking them on a short tour. Upon seeing the slight confusion on Damian’s face, she switches to English and explains how they take care of the dolphins.

Cady looks relieved when she explains that the only dolphins here are ones that wouldn’t survive in the wild, and that they do rescues to help injured ones to eventually release back into the ocean. The tanks are absolutely massive with plenty of room to swim, and the water is kept at the perfect temperature.

Finally, they’re lead outside to one of the massive pools, and Cady gives a quiet squeal when she sees the dolphins swimming around happily. Damian follows Bernadette into the water first, yelping at the cold temperature.

“Ooh, it’s cold!” Cady squeals, walking around on her tippy toes until she gets used to it. The three dolphins suddenly swim over, sort of circling around her curiously. “Oh, hello.”

Janis follows after Cady, but the dolphins won’t leave her wife to greet anyone else.

“They seem to like you,” Bernadette chuckles. She swims over to introduce them. “This is Poséidon, and Daphné, and this here is Corail.”

She gives a command and one by one, the dolphins pop up on their tails and wave to them. Cady squeals when she gets splashed as they go back down, but claps for them at their impressive trick.

Bernadette guides them over to Damian with a bit of effort, and gives another command for Corail to pop up and kiss his cheek. He gasps in surprise since the command was in French, but chuckles at the sensation. “Aww! Bonjour, Corail!”

“Is that the first girl you’ve kissed, D?” Janis jokes.

“Actually, yeah,” Damian says. “Except you.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, what?” Cady insists. “When did that happen?”

“We were like, eleven, and trying to work out if we were actually gay so we kissed one time,” Janis explains quietly. “And we agreed not to talk about it again, Damian.”

Cady is laughing so hard she’s only held up by the life jacket, forgetting to tread water to keep herself afloat. “That’s so cute. Oh, bonjour!” She says when the dolphins return to her side.

“You may pet them if you like,” Bernadette says, pretending she didn’t hear the story. “All of you can.”

Cady happily reaches out to brush a hand over their smooth backs, in awe at the sensation. “Ooh! They’re so smooth! That’s so cool. Guys, come feel them!”

Janis and Damian swim over to pet them too, and Janis yelps a little when she first makes contact. “Oh, that’s weird!”

“They’re so cute,” Damian coos. “It’s a really nice feeling.”

“Their skin regenerates almost every two hours to help maintain the texture,” Bernadette explains. “Much faster than humans, to say the least.”

“They feel like wet rubber,” Janis says. “They are cute though.”

“Many people say that, that is a good way to describe it,” Bernadette laughs. She gives another command and Poséidon pops up and kisses Janis on the cheek. Janis yelps slightly and jumps back, but swims close again when Cady reaches for her. “Oh, I should have warned you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Janis chuckles. “Bonjour, Poséidon.”

He pops up again, seemingly waiting for something. Bernadette laughs. “He wants you to kiss him back.”

“Little man-whore,” Janis grumbles, but leans in to smooch his beak. Cady leans in on the other side too, prompting an excited chirp as he swims a happy lap around the pool.

Corail and Daphné seem jealous and also pop up for kisses from Cady, who obliges with a delighted laugh. They chirp happily and kiss Cady’s cheek in return.

“Aww, you have competition, Jay,” Cady coos.

“You’re gonna leave me for a fish?” Janis calls.

Cady gasps indignantly. “They are mammals.”

“Whatever, they live in water and don’t have legs, they’re close enough. You’re gonna leave me for a water-dwelling mammal?” Janis pouts.

“Of course not,” Cady says. “Come back, they’re sorry.”

Janis swims her way back over for a kiss from her wife. “You taste like dolphin.”

Cady laughs. “So do you, fish face. What happens now?”

“They can tow you around the pool by their fins, if you’re interested,” Bernadette offers.

“Does it hurt them?” Cady asks worriedly.

“Not at all, they actually seem to rather enjoy it,” Bernadette responds. “You only add a touch more pressure to the fin, if you don’t grab it too hard.”

“Oh. Yeah, that sounds fun!” Cady cheers. Bernadette shows them all how to gently hold the fins, each of them getting their own dolphin. Damian gets Poséidon, Cady gets Corail, and Janis gets Daphné. Once they’re all securely but carefully holding on, Bernadette gives a cue and the three of them set off. They go slower than Janis had thought they would, but she’s grateful that she’s not getting splashed or lugged underwater.

“Ooh. This is nice,” Damian says, cuddling into Poséidon a little closer. “Relaxing.”

Janis paid a fair sum for this experience, but she thinks it’s worth it for the tow. It is quite relaxing, and Cady is laughing brightly the whole way.

“That was so fun!” Cady calls when they’re done.

“I’m glad! If you would bid the dolphins a quick adieu, we can now move on to the shore activities,” Bernadette replies. She leads them out of the tank and offers them each a towel, and they return their life jackets as they dry off.

Once they’re not dripping anymore they follow Bernadette inside to a kitchen area, and are immediately confronted with the smell of fish. Damian has to tap out and waits for the girls outside. Bernadette greets and has a quick chat with her co-worker in French before grabbing a couple buckets of prepared fish and heading back out of the room.

“My apologies for the smell, but you get used to it after a while,” Bernadette says to Damian. He nods shakily and follows them back to the dolphins. They all rush up when they spy the buckets, almost begging like little dogs for a treat.

“Aww,” Cady coos. “Water puppies.”

Janis links their fingers together and leads them to the edge. Bernadette explains that she’ll have them do tricks, and then if they want to, the three of them will get to feed them the fish as a reward. Damian sits far away from the smelly buckets, opting to just watch.

Bernadette gives the first command and the three of them all hop up and wave their fins, and they wave back happily. Cady and Janis toss each of them a few of the small fish. She gives another cue and they turn away, facing lengthwise down. They pick some speed up and suddenly leap into the air, diving a couple times.

“Holy shit!” Janis yelps at the height they can get. “That’s impressive.” Cady and Janis toss them more fish.

Bernadette continues giving cues, prompting the dolphins to dance, come up for pets, shake hands, give more kisses, and even hop up next to them on the shore for a split second. Cady even gets to play fetch with Poséidon for a while with a small ball.

Once they’re down to about a quarter of the last bucket of fish, Bernadette stops giving the dolphins commands. They swim around the area contently, calming down after the exercise.

“Now, I understand you are an artist, Janis?” Bernadette asks, heading to a nearby cart.

“Um... yeah,” Janis says anxiously. “Kind of.”

“Nonsense,” Bernadette chuckles. “Your wife tells me you are very good.”

Janis looks at Cady in confusion. “Does she?”

“You are! You teach art to kids, for the love of god,” Cady says. “Just wait, this is awesome. You’re gonna love it.”

Bernadette chuckles and heads to a nearby cart of supplies, returning with several pieces of paper, brushes, and a few colors of non-toxic paint.

“Our friends here enjoy art as well, you all get to help them create their next masterpiece,” Bernadette says. Janis looks very excited. She got to paint with elephants in Kenya, so she’s excited to do art with another animal.

Bernadette places the brushes into a sort of hoop shaped thing, and instructs them to pick what colors they want for the paintings. Janis picks purple, blue, and grey; Cady picks yellow, pink, and green; and Damian picks black, pink, and orange.

The colors are squeezed into pallets, and they dip the brushes into the paint. Then, the hoop attachments are slipped gently over the beak of the dolphins, and they’re instructed to hold the canvas over the dolphins’ heads. All three wag the brushes back and forth, making bright streaks on the canvas.

The process is continued until all three colors are used up and the canvases are mostly covered, then they turn to see the beautiful works of art the creatures have made for them. It’s rather abstract, obviously, but they are very beautiful.

Unfortunately they now have to say goodbye to the dolphins. They kiss and pet each one before they have to go, waving goodbye sadly. Janis buys all of the photos taken of their experience, and also buys each of them a commemorative shirt and a stuffed dolphin from the gift shop.

Cady and Damian are both still shaking with adrenaline as they head home, chatting excitedly about their favorite parts. Once they get there, though, they start to crash. Cady’s almost totally asleep by the time they make it through the door.

Janis carries her up the stairs, Damian following closely behind them. He slugs his way to his own room, all of them deciding to take a nap before dinner. Janis has to wake Cady to get her out of her swimsuit, and Cady just tugs on Janis’ dolphin t-shirt and flops into bed, crawling under the covers and cuddling her stuffed dolphin.

Janis changes into other comfortable clothes since her shirt was stolen and crawls in after her, spooning her wife gently. She’s not quite tired enough to sleep, so she contents herself with holding her girl and remembering all the fun they had.

——————

A few days later, they head to Paris. Janis’ grandmother threw yet another dinner for them to celebrate, and insisted they come back for another visit soon. Cady promises they will, and Janis agrees.

Janis’ cousin takes them to the train station to see them off that afternoon. It’s about a six hour trip, so they’ll be at their hotel at around seven in the evening. Cady looks out the window the whole way, and Damian looks a bit green. He’s never been great with motion.

“So what do you want to see in Paris, Bluejay?” Cady asks, munching happily on the croissant she had gotten off the cart.

“The Louvre,” Janis replies instantly. “More than anything. And the Eiffel tower, I guess.”

“Oh, I would love to go to the Louvre,” Cady says happily. She’s interested in the art there, of course, but she loves seeing Janis in her element. “I’m excited to eat.”

“You’ll get plenty of opportunities,” Janis chuckles. “What about you, what do you want to see, Peanut?”

“I want to see the historical stuff. Like the Palace of Versailles and the Arc de Triomphe and stuff,” Cady replies. “Dame? You okay?”

“Mmhmm,” Damian hums. He’s looking better now that he’s eaten. “I just want to go to Disneyland.” Cady suddenly looks very excited.

“I forgot about Disneyland! That would be so fun,” she squeals. They’ve managed to get Cady caught up on Disney movies and shows, but haven’t had a chance to take her to any of the parks yet. Now they have to go.

Finally, a lady’s voice announces their stop, so they all hop up and grab their bags. Once they’re above ground again, Janis barely manages to get them a cab to their hotel. Cady gets stuck in the middle again, but keeps leaning over them so she can see out the windows.

“It’s so pretty,” she sighs happily. She spins around as they’re dropped outside their hotel, staring up at the sky. It is rather beautiful, with the city bathed in the light from the setting sun.

Janis leads them in and checks them in to their rooms. She’d booked Damian one on a different floor, for his own sake. They are in the city of love, after all. Janis plans to make full use of it.

Cady enters the room first, immediately rushing over to the window. “Jay, come here.”

Janis comes up behind her, kissing her cheek and hugging her from behind. “It’s beautiful. That’s the top of the Eiffel tower over there.”

Cady turns in her embrace. “It is beautiful. But not as beautiful as you.” She giggles as Janis blushes. “I love you so much. Thank you for bringing us here.”

“I love you too, Butterfly. I’m glad I could. What did you think of Marseille?” Janis asks, pulling Cady next to her on the large bed.

“It was beautiful,” Cady replies. “And your family is... so lovely. I loved hearing all the stories and seeing the places that are important to your family. It was wonderful.”

“Good,” Janis grins as Cady leans up to kiss her. “Should we get D and find somewhere for dinner?”

“Oh, yes! Can we walk? It’s so nice out,” Cady replies, dragging Janis up by the hand and towards the door.

“We should change first, but sure, baby,” Janis says. “Come on.” They put on fancier clothes and Janis switches their positions, running down the long hallway towards the elevator and hauling her laughing wife behind her. The doors close behind them as they both try to catch their breath. Janis brushes her hands through Cady’s curls to smooth them back down. “Have you ever had escargot?”

Cady pulls a slightly concerned face. “No. Those are snails, right?”

“Yeah. They’re not bad, though, I think you’ll like them,” Janis replies. The doors open when they reach Damian’s floor. Janis leads them to his door and knocks. “D, we’re gonna go get dinner, do you want to come?”

He answers the door already wearing the hotel robe and with a sheet mask on. “Can I have a second?”

Both girls laugh and nod. Janis sighs when the door closes again. “We’ve been here for ten minutes.”

“It’s Damian,” Cady giggles in reply. “And skincare is important.” Damian comes back fully dressed and sans mask. Cady grabs his hand as well and leads them both back to the elevator.

Janis finds a restaurant within walking distance that has very highly rated escargot. She knows Damian hasn’t had it either, and wants to know what they’ll think of it.

-

They get to the place right as dinner service is beginning, and are led over to a table.

“They’re all so close together,” Cady says, having to wiggle her way in.

“They have a lot of people to fit in,” Janis replies. “Just how it happens here.”

“I’m glad we changed. Everyone here is so fancy,” Damian mumbles.

They continue making light conversation as they wait for the food Janis ordered to arrive. Finally it arrives, and Cady and Damian look more than a little concerned.

Janis pops some of the snails out of their shells, eating one herself and offering the others to Damian and Cady. They take them, looking to each other for confidence and eating them.

“Oh!” Cady says. “Thats way better than I thought, that’s so good! Way better than snake meat.”

“I told you,” Janis laughs.

“It’s like ravioli,” Damian says as he reaches for another. “But... snails.”

“Yeah, that’s a good way to put it,” Cady giggles. “How do you get them out?” Janis shows her how to use the fork to pop them out, and Cady follows suit once she knows how.

-

Many hours later, Cady cuddles up to Janis in bed, finally ready for sleep. “How long are we here, Jay?”

“We’re in Paris for a week,” Janis replies.

“A week?!” Cady says in shock.

“I wanted to make sure we had time to see everything you both wanted to,” Janis says. “And I have another surprise when we get home. But that’s kind of for both of us.”

“Jay, you’re spoiling me,” Cady whines. “Can I know the other surprise?”

“Nope,” Janis hums. “But I’ll tell you right once we’re back in America. And you deserve to be spoiled, Peanut. You’re a doctor, you’ve worked so hard.”

Cady grins at her. “Fine. Will you tell me what we’re doing tomorrow?”

“I don’t have anything planned,” Janis says. “What do you want to do?”

“The Louvre,” Cady replies with a smile. “I want you to tell me all about everything. I won’t even need a tour guide.”

Janis smiles back, leaning down for a kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

Cady cuddles in close, nuzzling into her chest. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, Butterfly. Sweet dreams,” Janis replies, holding her closer.

————-

Janis wound up being the one with trouble sleeping that night, struggling to fall asleep and waking up early. She decides to return the favor Cady pulled on the dolphin day.

Cady, as always, is asleep on her belly, so Janis rolls to straddle her back at her waist and drums on her shoulders. Cady gives a sleepy groan and pops an eye open to look at her.

“Jay.” She grumbles crankily. “Wha’ you doin’.” Janis leans down to kiss her cheek and around her ear.

“Good morniiiiiing,” she hums. “It’s Louvre day, I’m waking you up!”

Cady groans into her pillow. “Go back ‘sleep.”

“No, I’m too excited!” Janis says. “Come on, don’t you at least want breakfast?”

“Wan’ sleep more,” Cady moans. She shifts and Janis falls off her with a yelp, thudding to the ground.

“Hmph. I see how it is,” Janis grumbles. “Fine, you can sleep in, cranky pants.”

“Thank youuuu,” Cady calls into her pillow, and is snoring gently again within minutes.  Janis giggles and slides back into bed, stroking a curl away from Cady’s face and watching her sleep. She is actually too excited to go back to sleep, so she decides to make slightly better use of her time.

She heads to her carry on bag and pulls out the sketchbook and pencils she had brought along, before opening the window to sketch their view. She flips past the ones she did of Marseille to a blank page. The rooftops seem to stretch for miles, and she can just spy the top of the famous tower a ways away.

Cady groans sleepily behind her as she’s finishing shading in the skyline, rolling over onto her back and throwing her arms over her head. Janis decides she needs to work on sketching people more. She perches herself on top of the wardrobe and sketches her life, smiling lovingly at the little snuffling noises she makes every now and again.

“G’morning,” Cady groans as she finally wakes up, stretching and yawning before rubbing her eyes.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Janis chuckles, hopping down as Cady reaches for her. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, until someone sat on me,” Cady says, glaring at Janis.

“Just returning the favor,” Janis chuckles. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

“No way. You haven’t kissed or cuddled me yet, you’re not going anywhere,” Cady demands, pulling her back.

Janis laughs and cups her face, leaning in to press their lips together. “Can that hold you over until we eat?” Cady leans in for one more sweet kiss.

“I suppose.”

—————-

Janis takes Cady and Damian to a nearby bakery for some breakfast croissants. All of them eat outside, enjoying the way the whole street seems to smell like fresh bread and baking sweets.

Cady asks to walk again, wanting to see as much of the city as she can. Surprisingly, Damian agrees, even though he’s never been one for much physical activity. The Louvre isn’t particularly close by, but Janis also agrees to a walk. Saves having to pay for a cab.

“Shit,” Janis murmurs in awe when they finally reach their destination. “It’s big.”

“It says here it’s seventy-three thousand square meters,” Cady says, holding up her phone. “So yes, it is very big.”

“Very astute observation there, Janjan,” Damian teases. “Let’s go in, come on.”

“They have tours, should we do that?” Janis asks, pointing to a sign.

“We don’t need to,” Cady says, lacing their fingers together. “We have you.”

-

Once they’re past the impossibly long line to get in, Janis instantly heads off, hauling Cady and Damian behind her. She follows the signs to the area with the Mona Lisa first, knowing there’s going to be a large crowd for them to work through to see it up close.

“Wow,” Damian says when they make it in. There is a massive crowd in front of it, but they can still just barely see. Except Cady.

“Hang on,” Cady grumbles, grabbing their hands and somehow weaseling her way through all the people until they’re at the front. “There. Short people tricks.”

“Nice, babe,” Janis says, staring in awe at the famous painting in front of her. She rattles off all the facts about it she can remember from her years of study, before they move on to look at other things.

“Oh, that’s in Animal Crossing!” Cady says happily, pointing to a painting nearby. “What is this, lovey?”

Janis laughs at her excitement over finding the real versions of something from her favorite game. “That’s called The Summer. This guy did a few like that, with the faces made out of fruit and stuff.”

“It’s... nice,” Damian says confusedly. “Why did he do that?”

“Hell if I know. Most of the people who did these paintings were probably on some drug or another,” Janis says in reply. “Neat though.”

Janis leads them from area to area, explaining and listing facts about whatever Damian or Cady point to. It works well enough for all of them. They get to see all the famous works, Janis gets to see everything she wants, and Damian and Cady get explanations and extra facts from Janis.

“Wow,” Cady says when she spies the Vénus de Milo. She breaks away from them and wanders over to get a closer look. Janis follows her and leads Damian after them, since Cady is small and easy to lose.

“That’s the Vénus de Milo,” she hums in Cady’s ear. “She’s supposed to be one of the Greek goddesses.”

“Which one?” Damian asks.

"Nobody really knows,” Janis replies. “Most people think Aphrodite. Venus was her Roman counterpart, so that’s where the name came from.”

“Her dress is falling off,” Cady mumbles distractedly, making Damian and Janis laugh. “What happened to her arms?”

“Fell off,” Janis shrugs. “There’s a lot of theories about that too. They probably were just too heavy and broke away at some point. Some people think it was a shipwreck or something, I can’t remember specifically.”

“Hm. That’s interesting,” Cady says. “Oh, her foot is gone too.”

“Yeah, she’s lost a lot of stuff over the years. She had jewelry and stuff originally,” Janis replies. “Just lost to time one way or another.”

Cady leans back against her and turns her head to kiss at Janis’ jaw. “You’re so smart. I love you, art freak.”

Janis grins. “I love you too, math nerd.”

“Okay, time to move on! Chop chop,” Damian insists, wanting to get as far away from their sappiness as he can.

—————

“That was... really fun, Bluejay,” Cady yawns once they’re finally back in their hotel room, freshly showered and ready to sleep. “I love seeing you with art.”

“I’m glad you had fun,” Janis replies as her wife spoons her. “Go to sleep, Butterfly, we have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Why?” Cady yawns again.

“I’m not gonna tell you, or you’ll never sleep,” Janis says. “It’s nothing terribly exciting, but they open early. We should be there pretty soon after it does.”

“Oh. Mmkay. G’night, love.” Cady mumbles, seeming content with Janis’ surprises for once. Janis had toned it down slightly, they were going to Disneyland Paris tomorrow. She’d talked it over with Damian, and agreed that he got to pick what they do tomorrow.

“Goodnight, Princess,” Janis says, secretly giving a little hint.

——————-

She kisses Cady awake the next morning around eight. “Good morning, Butterfly.”

“Good morning,” Cady yawns. “Where are we going today?”

“I’ll tell you in a bit,” Janis replies. “I made sure we had cuddle time today.”

“Good,” Cady replies, pulling Janis down on top of her. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, actually,” Janis replies. “I think I’ve finally actually adjusted to the time shift. How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Cady says. “Nobody sat on me to wake me up today, I much prefer kisses.”

“Noted,” Janis chuckles. “For the record, so do I.” Cady gives a chuckle that says she already knows but has chosen to ignore that information.

“When do we get breakfast?” Cady asks after a long, peaceful moment.

“On the train,” Janis replies. “My cuddles not enough for you?”

Cady flicks her nose gently. “Yes, they are, but unfortunately I can’t live on cuddles alone. The train. That means somewhere pretty far away.”

Janis checks the time, it’s been about a half hour since they woke up. They should probably get ready now. She sits up, and rolls off of Cady so she isn’t thrown to the ground again.

“Dame and I decided we’re going to Disneyland today,” she says gently. As she expected, Cady flies out of bed with a delighted squeal and starts dancing around the room. Janis just watches her with a smile, until Cady leaps on her from above and kisses everywhere she can reach.

“Disneyland! Let’s go, come on, we have to get ready!” Cady calls, lugging Janis out of bed to shower and get dressed. She’s almost as excited as she was when she found out they were coming to France in the first place.

“Baby,” Janis says lovingly. “Breathe. You have an hour long train ride to get through first, we can’t have you leaping out the window when we’re going several hundred miles per hour.”

Cady comes back down to Earth a bit then. “Oh.”

“Come on, let’s get ready, Peanut,” Janis coaxes, turning the shower on.

-

Half an hour later, both ladies are showered and dressed in loose clothing and good shoes, before they head down to meet Damian. Cady leaps on him before he can even open the door all the way.

“We’re going to Disneyland!” She squeals when he yelps in surprise as a small redheaded rocket suddenly barrels into him.

“Good morning, Caddy,” he chuckles affectionately. Janis grabs her wife back, picking her up to carry her to the elevator.

“Come on, Peanut, let’s go,” she tuts lovingly as Cady clings to her with a delighted giggle. “Gonna have to get a leash for you.”

“Kinky,” Cady teases. “I’ll calm down.”

“No you won’t,” Janis retaliates. She doesn’t really want Cady to calm down, anyway. “I know you, wifey.”

“Fine, you’re right,” Cady agrees. “But I won’t run away. I need you guys to show me around anyway.”

“Happily,” Janis says as she finally sets her down.

—————-

Cady is already spinning around in awe when they’re finally outside the gates. Janis links their fingers together as she buys their tickets, and Damian grabs Cady’s other hand before Cady tugs them forward.

Janis buys their way into the park and squeezes Cady’s hand. “Where first, babe?”

“Oh, I don’t know! There’s so much,” Cady says happily. “Oh, can we get ears?”

“Sure,” Janis says. “Well, you can.”

“You don’t want ears?” Cady pouts. “They have a bunch.”

“Under no circumstances am I wearing Mickey ears,” Janis replies. “But you pick some, they’ll be cute on you.”

Ten minutes later, Janis is wearing ears. Cady has some on that look like Simba’s, Damian has a pair designed to look like Mulan’s costume, and Janis has been coaxed by her wife into a Maleficent themed pair. Cady takes a selfie of all of them with their ears, making kissy faces at the camera, and one with their normal smiles.

“Yay! Okay, I wanna see the castle,” Cady cheers as she puts her phone away.

“There’s a dragon too,” Janis says.

“A dragon?” Cady asks. “In the castle?”

“No, underneath,” Janis says. “This way, come on.”

Sure enough, the shortcut Janis takes leads them to a very large animatronic dragon deep in the belly of the castle.

“That’s so cool,” Cady says as she watches it move. “Look, you can see it breathe.”

“The wings move too,” Damian says, pointing to one. “And its feet.”

“Wow,” Cady says. “Can we go in the castle?”

“I think so,” Janis replies. “Line might be a bit long, but we can if you want.”

“It’s so pretty,” Cady sighs happily. “The waterfalls.”

Damian leads them inside and up to the second floor, where there’s a series of large and beautiful stained glass windows depicting the story of Sleeping Beauty. Cady leads them around to peer through each.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful up here,” Cady says. “But let’s go ride stuff, we can come back here later.”

“I wanna go on the Ratatouille ride,” Damian says quickly. Cady nods rapidly, and Janis is also intrigued, so Damian takes their hands and leads them that way. “It’s super cool, they’re not on a track. It’s all computers.”

Cady looks more than a little apprehensive at that. “And they don’t crash into each other?”

“No, they all have programmed routes, every car is different. Don’t worry,” Damian replies.

“Oh. That sounds fun,” Cady cheers. The lines are usually decorated with some sort of theme to match, and Cady looks around excitedly. Janis contents herself with watching her wife until they’re led onto the ride.

Janis has to admit that it is more fun than she had anticipated, it actually makes you feel like a little rat running around. But the best part is still Cady and Damian’s laughter throughout the whole thing.

“Where do you want to go, Jayjay?” Cady asks once they finish, still giggling slightly.

“Hyperspace Mountain,” Janis says immediately. “I don’t know if you guys would like it though, it goes pretty fast.”

“I’ll try it,” Cady says.

Damian says, “Hard pass,” at the same time. “You guys go, I’ll just look around.” He holds their ears and bags as they go to wait in line.

“Cads, are you sure you want to come? It’s a roller coaster, you didn’t like them last time,” Janis asks once they’re in line.

“That was almost ten years ago, love. Maybe I’ll like this one,” Cady says. “I’ll try anything once. And anything for you.”

Janis grins and leans in for a chaste kiss. “If you’re sure. I love you.”

“I love you more,” Cady retaliates.

“No, we’ve been through this!” Janis insists.

“And we’ve never reached a conclusion, so what’s your point?” Cady says with a chuckle. “This could continue until the end of time.”

Janis kind of hopes it does. They continue bickering until they’re fastened in. Cady goes quiet when she realizes where she is. She’s excited, but still nervous. She doesn’t have a great track record with roller coasters so far. Janis takes her hand and kisses her knuckles to help calm her down just before they shoot forward.

Cady’s hair is entirely poofed out by the time they get off, and she’s shaking slightly.

“Did you like it?” Janis asks as they head back to Damian.

“Uhhuh,” Cady says shakily.

“Are you lying?” Janis asks, knowing her wife.

“Uhhuh,” Cady says again. Janis laughs, but hugs her gently once they’re out of the way.

“You don’t have to come with me on anything else, it’s okay,” Janis chuckles as her wife clings to her. She seems better this time, she’s not shaking quite so hard and doesn’t look near tears. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Cady replies. “Just... maybe shouldn’t go on anything for a little while. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“That’s fine, baby,” Janis says. “I’m hungry anyway, let’s find something to eat.”

“Oh, yay!” Cady cheers, always excited to eat. “Oh, Damian has something.”

“Hey guys!” Damian says as they finally reach him. “I found crepes.” He hands each of them a Nutella crepe he had gotten off a cart. “Nice hair, Cads.”

“Thanks,” Cady says, knowing she resembles a lion. She grabs her Lion King ears back to complete the look, before she ties her hair back in a ponytail to make it more manageable. “Ooh, this is good!”

“Yeah, for Disney it’s not bad,” Janis agrees around a mouthful. “Where d’you want to go now?”

“There’s a little Alice in Wonderland maze thingy over that way, it looks cute,” Damian says as he finishes his own snack. “And would be a good way to recover from the coaster.”

“Yes, please, let’s go there,” Cady says, already setting off. Janis and Damian hurry after her towards the maze.

They decide to split up and see who makes it out first. Cady winds up winning, jumping up and down as her wife and friend come out after her. “I win!”

“Nice, Cads. Must be some Kenya left in you,” Damian congratulates, ruffling her hair. “Where now?”

“There’s a pirate thing over that way, I can’t remember if it’s Peter Pan or Pirates of the Caribbean,” Janis replies. “That’s pretty chill.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” Cady says. Janis leads them over to it and hugs Cady tight as they wait in line.

“Are you having fun?” She asks quietly as Damian sings along to the music playing.

“Yeah, I really am,” Cady grins. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Janis says back. “I am. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cady replies.

-

By the time the sun is starting to go down, they’ve gone on everything they wanted to, eaten almost every food offered around the premises, and taken pictures with just about every character they could find.

They have enough time to stay and watch the fireworks before they have to catch the train back. Cady has exerted all of her energy, so Damian and Janis switch off carrying her piggyback around as they finish doing what they want to.

Janis has her as they watch the fireworks, bundled cozily in the matching Mickey Mouse hoodies they had bought when Cady got cold. Cady squishes their cheeks together as they both look up, their Mickey ears clacking together gently.

“I love you so much, Janis,” Cady says quietly as the last firework pops off in the sky. If Cady wasn’t so close Janis wouldn’t have heard. “More than words can say.”

“I love you too, Cady. More than any language can say,” Janis replies. Cady nuzzles into her neck and drifts off to sleep, so Janis just adjusts her grip and chats with Damian as they head out towards the gates.

—————

A couple days later, they head out to see the Palace of Versailles. They’d taken a day to recover from Disneyland, just staying in their hotel and spending quiet time together.

Cady has read up on the history of the palace, and is rattling off facts about each area they visit. Janis is very interested in the beautiful murals on some of the walls and the gorgeous statues scattered about. Damian is more interested in hearing about the royals who built and used to live in the palace. Cady tells them about everything they want to know.

“What if we had a garden like this at home, Jay?” Cady asks as they stroll around the sprawling grounds. Damian had wandered off and got stuck on a tour, so they’re waiting for him to be released.

“We would be very tired trying to maintain it,” Janis responds. “It’s so big, I’m tired just looking at it.”

“True,” Cady giggles. “But I think if we were rich enough to have something this big we’d be able to pay someone else to take care of it. Just think of how much hide and seek we could play here. I’d never run out of hiding spots.”

Janis laughs. “That’s why you want such a massive place? Just to play hide and seek?”

“Why not? What else are you supposed to do with it?” Cady asks. “Just walking around it must get boring after a while.”

“I don’t know that it would, it’s so beautiful,” Janis hums. “You could take a different path every day.”

“You could paint a different part every day, too,” Cady says. “And it must look different in every season, you could do four for each part!”

“You want four paintings for each bit of this place?” Janis chuckles.

“I always want your paintings,” Cady says quietly. “They’re part of you.”

Janis is almost stunned silent. “Thanks, baby. That’s why I love everything you make.”

“Even that shitty plate I tried to make you?” Cady giggles.

“It works! It’s a plate,” Janis insists. “I can still use it. The lumps are good for holding salsa and stuff.”

“And you say you’re not cute,” Cady responds. “I wonder how much this has changed since people lived here. Like, someone from two or three hundred years ago could have walked this same path.”

“I don’t think it’s changed much,” Janis says. “Maybe we walked it before. Past life, or something.”

“Could be,” Cady hums pensively. “You think we were together in a past life?”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have been,” Janis says. “I definitely feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than I actually have.”

“I feel that way too, I just thought it was a cheesy ‘our souls are connected’ thing,” Cady giggles. “Oh, there’s Damian. Poor thing, he looks so confused.”

“I don’t think that tour he got stuck on was in English,” Janis laughs as they wave him over. “I told him he should keep studying French, but no.”

“How was it, Dame?” Cady asks as Damian finally makes his way to them.

“The bits I could understand were quite interesting,” Damian replies. “Lot of walking though, this place is big.”

“It’s massive! And everything is so detailed, I think I could walk around here every day for ten years and still miss something,” Cady says happily.

“Right? I almost plowed some people down because I kept staring at the ceilings,” Damian chuckles. “Anyway, have you ladies seen what you want to see? I’m hungry.”

“When are you not?” Janis jokes, earning her a whack from her wife. “Ow!”

“Be nice,” Cady scolds. “I’m ready to go, I’m hungry too.”

“I’m nice! This is just how we treat each other,” Janis insists. “You’ve known us for ten years, come on!”

“Yes, and I’ve been constantly exasperated with you two ever since,” Cady sighs lovingly. “Now come on.”

—————

They head to a chocolate shop on their second-to-last day in Paris, so Aaron can get the freshest sweets possible. Janis is slightly worried that they won’t be able to bring them on the plane, but she decides to cross that bridge once they get there.

“So what kinds of chocolate does your boy toy like, Dame?” Janis asks, looking at a small bag of truffles that she’s very interested in for herself.

“Anything, really, he loves candy,” Damian says. “Where did Caddy go?”

“I dunno, she said she wanted to see something,” Janis replies. “She went that way.”

“Hm. Okay,” Damian says suspiciously. “God, everything smells so good.”

“Fresh chocolate,” Janis responds. Familiar arms suddenly wrap around her waist from behind. “Hi, Peanut. What have you been up to?”

“Nothing,” Cady hums in a tone that says she’s definitely been up to something. “Did you pick something?”

“Damn, why is this so expensive?” Damian asks suddenly, holding a case of chocolates of varying flavors. “All of the stuff here is.”

“Because it’s handmade,” Janis says. “They make new stuff every day.”

“Jesus,” Damian sighs. “He’d like this, though.”

“Done,” Janis says as she takes it, working her way over to buy them with her wife still clinging to her. “Now, what did you really get up to, Butterfly?”

“I might have signed us up for an eclair making class,” Cady mumbles. “They said we get to eat the rejects, I couldn’t resist!”

Janis laughs. “That sounds fun, babe, it’s okay. When is it?”

“Now,” Cady says shyly as a man suddenly emerges from the back and greets them. They’re led to wash their hands and put on gloves and hairnets.

The chef gives the instructions in French, so Janis translates as quickly as she can. “Oh, shit.”

“What? We haven’t even done anything yet, what could’ve happened already?” Damian asks frantically.

“He says if ours are good enough they’ll sell them in the shop,” Janis explains. “Or at least use them as a display.”

“Ooh,” Cady says excitedly, paying even closer attention.

“Why is a little bread thing so complicated?” Janis asks in slight fear, as the chef adds flour to a milk mixture and cooks it out.

“But they’re so good,” Cady says, restraining herself from eating all the caramel ingredients and tasty chocolate within her reach. “It’s worth it!”

The chef instructs them through the process of making a sort of caramel custard while the eclairs bake. Damian has started taking notes on his phone.

They’re set loose then, to replicate what the chef has taught them from scratch. Cady starts what she remembers from making the pastry, adding milk and a few other things to a pan. “This already doesn’t look right.”

“Shh, no, it’s fine,” Janis says quickly. “Just keep going, it’ll be fine.” Miraculously, she’s half-right, by the time everything else has been added and combined it almost looks like the one done by a professional.

Damian helps Janis load the dough into the piping bag, Cady watching anxiously off to the side. Janis gets to pipe them out on the bakeware, trying to remember how the chef did it.

She butchers the first one. It turns out sort of lumpy and misshapen, but for her first try it’s not terrible. Unfortunately, the improvement for the others is rather minimal.

“What are you doing? The fuck is that?” Damian calls as she pipes one and twists the end the wrong way.

“My best! I’m doing my best,” Janis calls back. “Look, we can fix it, it’s fine!”

“It’s not fine, oh my god,” Damian says. Janis suddenly hits an air bubble, making one of the eclairs much shorter than it was supposed to be.

“And you’re not helping!” Janis says, piping a little more out. Cady is bent over double laughing at their interaction. “Get the egg wash ready, dork.”

Damian helps Cady get the wash ready, brushing it over the piped pastry and shaping them back to something approaching decent.

“There,” Cady says as she brushes tears of laughter from her eyes. “Good job, guys.”

Janis huffs as she rests the piping bag down and glares at Damian. “Thank you. I tried very hard.”

“I never said they were bad,” Damian defends as the chef helps them clean up to prepare to make the filling. He’s also laughing, apparently having understood most of the recent conversation. “I just criticized your every move.”

“And I appreciate that so much,” Janis says sarcastically. “You fixed them, they’ll be fine.”

Cady gets to make most of the filling, with the chef watching protectively nearby in case of disaster. For her first time making caramel, she does remarkably well. She yelps a little when it puffs up as they add the cream to make it a custard, but recovers quickly and keeps going.

“There, see? Much easier,” Cady says, looking meaningfully at her wife and friend. The caramel is only slightly burnt, but the chef tasted it and said she could get away with it. That was her goal all along.

The eclairs come out of the oven looking remarkably good, and Cady helps Janis prepare the piping bag for the filling. The chef watches them in amusement, and Cady suddenly realizes they’ve made a terrible error.

“Jay?” She asks as Janis fills the bag, blissfully unaware.

“What?” Janis asks.

“We’ve made a mistake,” Cady mumbles, trying to hold back laughter.

“What? What did we do wrong?” Janis asks sadly.

Cady giggles hysterically. “When is the tip supposed to go in?”

Janis’ eyes go wide, and Damian bursts out laughing.

“Shit. Um... how do... what do we do?” Janis asks.

“Take the filling back out so we can put it in?” Cady suggests. Janis takes the bag and scrapes the caramel custard back into the bowl frantically while Cady hunts for the piping tip. “There, problem solved.”

“How are we so bad at this?” Janis mumbles as Cady puts the tip in and holds it for Janis to refill.

“We’re American,” Damian answers. “And eclairs are, like, famously tough to make.”

Once the filling bag is properly constructed, Cady hands the bag to Damian so he can pipe the eclairs full.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Janis teases to get him back. “Look, you have to fill them more! What are you doing?”

“Okay, point proven,” Damian grumbles as he pipes in more on the other side. Cady covers them with the same custard once they’re all full, and then a piece of chocolate is rested on as decoration.

“Yay, we didn’t do that bad!” Cady cheers. “They don’t look that different from his.”

“Yeah, but how do they taste?” Janis asks. She grabs what is clearly the worst looking one and takes a bite, and her eyes go wide when it’s actually quite good. “Oh, shit. Guys, try it.” Cady takes a bite too, and she dances happily at the taste. Damian goes next, giving a surprised hum.

The chef tries one of his own, hiding his surprise well. He informs them that they’re not quite good enough to sell, but they look good enough that they can pick one to put in the window. They pick the best looking one, and get to take the rest home.

“Well that was certainly an experience,” Damian chuckles. “Nice pick, Cads.”

“Thanks! That was fun,” Cady says happily. “And we get eclairs!”

Janis chuckles at how cute her wife is. “Let’s go eat them all.”

—————

On their last full day in Paris, they finally get to go up the Eiffel tower. Damian and Janis are more than a little anxious, since it’s so high, but Cady promises to keep them both safe.

The sun went down a few hours ago, and the stars are out in full force. Cady leans up against the railing and looks out over the rooftops of Paris, thinking back on all the experiences she’s gotten to have over the last week and a half or so.

Janis comes up to hug her from behind as she spies Notre Dame, making her jump. They were warned about pickpockets, so they gave everything important to Janis to keep in her inner jacket pockets. Cady still gets startled.

“Sorry,” Janis says quietly. “Just me.”

Cady leans back against her and turns to smile up at her. “Just my favorite person in the world.”

Janis chuckles. “You’re pretty high on my list, too.”

“Good, nice to know,” Cady giggles in reply.

“Was this a good trip?” Janis asks, kissing her cheek and looking out. She can see the candy shop they got Aaron’s thank you present from the day before, and their hotel. It’s all lit up, and very beautiful.

“A great trip. I loved every minute,” Cady replies. “I don’t want to go home.”

“I don’t either,” Janis says. “We’ll come back soon.”

“We better. We can actually go places now that I’m not in school anymore,” Cady replies. “Thanks for bringing us here.”

“Of course. Dame, come here,” Janis says, reaching for him. He comes to join the cuddle, forming a group hug.

“I love you guys,” he says quietly. “Thanks for the trip, Janjan.”

Janis sniffs, crying slightly. “Both of you stop it, this is too mushy.”

“Aww, Jellybean,” Cady coos. “Come here.” She pulls Janis and Damian in tighter, both of them bending down slightly to cuddle into her shoulders. “I love both of you so much.”

“I said stop,” Janis whines. “God, I love you guys so much.”

“We are in the city of love, Jan, you can’t stop it,” Damian chuckles. “I don’t even want to think about what you two did in that room.”

“Damian Hubbard!” Cady scolds. “Behave.”

“Sorry,” Damian says sheepishly. “I’ll give you guys a moment.” He heads to the other side then, looking out over a different part of the city.

Janis pulls back from her wife and wipes her eyes gently, Cady cupping her face and running her thumbs over her cheeks.

“J’taime tellement,” Cady whispers, leaning up to press their lips together. Another thing to check off their bucket lists, making out on top of the Eiffel tower.

“J’taime aussi,” Janis replies between kisses. “Tellement.”

“We’ll come back someday,” Cady murmurs gently, ghosting the words against Janis’ lips. “We do have to go home.”

“Do you want to know your other surprise?” Janis asks. “Make going home a little easier?”

“Yeah,” Cady says excitedly. Janis grins.

“Remember how when you were trying to guess what I got you in the first place, you asked if we were getting a puppy? And I said no?” Janis asks. Cady nods. “I lied.”

“Really?” Cady squeals. “You’re serious?”

“I don’t kid around about puppies. I found a breeder who just had a litter of golden retrievers a while ago, once we get settled back home we’ll go choose one,” Janis replies, giggling as Cady kisses her passionately again.

“Oh, golden retriever puppies are so cute, yay,” Cady says, bouncing happily. “Elvira gets a sibling.”

“Oh, she’s gonna hate that,” Janis chuckles.

“She’s still young, she’ll learn to like them,” Cady says. “She’s only two.”

“Yeah, that’s, like, a lot of cat years,” Janis says. “She’s a moody teenager.”

“God, yeah,” Cady chuckles. “Sleeps all day too. Oh well, we’ll pick a puppy with a similar personality.”

“I think you’re right, though. They’ll get used to each other eventually,” Janis says.

“We’ll work on it,” Cady replies. “Good job, love, now I almost want to go home.”

“Good,” Janis laughs. “But for now, kiss me again.”

“Gladly,” Cady purrs, popping up on her tippy toes again.

————-

A week later, they’re back in New York and almost adjusted once again to the time change. Time for a puppy.

They’d gotten all the supplies they would need the day before and set up the living room, deciding to keep Elvira in the bedroom until they were ready to be introduced face to face.

Cady shakes with excitement almost the whole way, frantically fiddling with a few of the stim toys she’s recently added to her collection.

When they enter the shelter, they’re immediately swarmed by a flock of puppies, wagging their tails happily and sniffing their shoes. One hops up on its hind legs to sniff Cady better.

“Oh my god,” Cady squeals, in a higher pitch than Janis has ever heard from her. “Oh, you’re all so cute, how am I supposed to pick?”

Janis sits down and laughs as several clamber onto her lap, trying to kiss her face. Cady follows suit, shrieking in surprise as about seven suddenly swarm in and knock her onto her back. One makes it to her face first, sniffing curiously at her nose before settling in on her chest for a nap.

“Oh. Who’s this one?” Cady asks, waving the others away from her face and cradling the one resting.

“That’s Salt. You can change her name if you want,” the breeder replies. “She’s the smallest, and pretty lazy, but she’s very gentle.”

Janis comes over carrying three others in her arms, trying to keep them off her lap. She extends a hand for Salt to sniff and chuckles when she chomps gently on her fingers.

“What do you think, baby?” Janis asks, looking at her wife.

“I love her,” Cady says happily. “Look at that face! We have to go now or I’ll take all of them, get me out of here. I want this one.”

“Sounds good, Butterfly,” Janis laughs. “Come on, let’s go get everything sorted.”

“Okay,” Cady says, scooping up her puppy and following them. “Bye guys! Oh, god, all of you are so sweet.”

“Okay, Salt here is already spayed and microchipped, mostly housebroken, but she’s not trained in any other way. She’s also had all her vaccinations to date, and here’s a recommendation for a vet,” the breeder says. “We notify on our social media whenever one gets adopted, so if you’d ever like to meet up with any of her siblings you can get in touch with their families that way.”

“Aww, that’s great, you’ll get to see your brothers and sisters again,” Cady coos. “Now we get to take you home!”

Janis manages to wiggle the puppy into her new harness and clip the leash on, leading her wife and new addition out once the puppy has said her goodbyes.

“What should we name her, Cads?” Janis asks as the puppy sniffs at a tree.

“What was the name of that shop? From Marseille, where your parents met?” Cady asks.

“La Jonquille,” Janis replies.

“What does that mean? I forgot,” Cady says with a chuckle as Salt runs out of leash and falls down.

“The Daffodil,” Janis says.

“Aww! What about Daffodil? That’s cute,” Cady squeals. “And we could call her Daffy.”

“I like it,” Janis replies. “Come here, Daffy! Come here!” Daffodil comes running over and bumps into Cady’s legs. “Aww, she likes it too, she responded to it.”

“Yay,” Cady says, picking her up and laughing as Daffy licks her face happily. “Oh, goodness, we love you too.”

“Okay, you ready to go home?” Janis asks, scratching behind Daffodil’s little ears.

“Yeah,” Cady grins, taking the leash and holding hands with her wife with her other hand.

But I’m always home with you.

-

does one of the characters in this have my real name because I am just that lazy? yes. this work was a challenge for me, but so much fun to write. hope you enjoyed!

our status for requests is the same as it was in the previous work. I am still taking them, but be aware that it will be July until your work is released.

thanks for reading!

lots of love,

ezzy

[sleepfight]

Bart’s Tattoo

I’m still on my first rough-draft so this is still a little messy and bare bones but since I’m posting more Bart art, I thought I’d share a little excerpt from my fic where Bart tells Uri the story behind his desert rose tattoo.

Uri belongs to @iigoeyei! TW for referenced child abuse, internalized ableism, mental health issues, and alcohol consumption  

Uri knocks back the last of his beer and crushes the can in his fist before chucking it blindly into the flatbed of his truck behind them.  

“What about this one?” He asks and hooks a finger into the collar of Bart’s hoodie so that he can tug it down, exposing the soft, pink petals of the tattoo on his neck. “It looks older than your other ones.”

Bart looks down at his feet as they swing below him, restless hands fidgeting with his own beer. He’s quiet for a moment, trying to think of how he can condense the story of this tattoo in a way that won’t leave them parked in the oppressive humidity all night, but he doesn’t think Uri would mind if they did. That’s why Uri is one of Bart’s favorite people; he has an abundance of patience regardless of whether Bart is going a million miles a minute or has been paralyzed by silence.

He drops one shoulder so that he can pull his shirt down further, letting Uri have a better look. The tattoo is one of his oldest but the colors are still vibrant and the shades of blended pink and yellow stand out against his otherwise chalky complexion like a rash; a flash of something beautiful somewhere it doesn’t belong. 

“It’s a desert rose,” Bart murmurs while Uri tilts his head closer and scrutinizes the small flower. “When I was a kid, we had a neighbor who was really into nature-mysticism and shit. Lynn-Marie Porter. She used to watch me and my sister sometimes after church and she’d make us help her in the pastor’s garden, picking weeds and stuff like that. She made us memorize different types of plants and flowers and what they meant.”

“You mean like if they were poisonous?” Uri asks.

“No, like what they represented. Spiritually, or whatever.” 

“And there were desert roses in the garden, I take it?”

“No.” Bart scowls and stares at the ground. He doesn’t like telling this story, it makes him feel stupid. 

“I was always--I was a different kid,” he says, voice low enough that it can’t carry with the sound of croaking frogs or rustling catkins in the pond, content to keep this between Uri and himself. “My parents took me to all kinds of doctors but they gave up after a few years and everybody in town knew it. Most of ‘em just accepted I wasn’t right and let me be but just as many people tried to stick their noses in with ‘advice’ on how to fix me.”

Bart licks at his dry lips. “Miss Porter was one of those people. She kept telling my mom to hang a dreamcatcher above my bed or that she should put echinacea under my tongue before I went to sleep. One time, I got in trouble for yelling during Sunday service which is something dad would normally slap me around for but Miss Porter took me outside before he could. Sat me down in the garden and told me I had to start behaving properly if I wanted to stay welcome in God’s house.”

Uri’s brow wrinkles in distaste and he blows a long, exasperated sigh out of his nose. “Fuckin’ hell, church sucks,” he grumbles, reaching into the cooler for a fresh beer.

"You're named after an archangel, dude, I don't think you're allowed to say that," Bart smiles crookedly.

There was a time he enjoyed going to church, back when he still thought belief would be the refuge he needed from his own mind. Back when he was little and his ‘eccentricities’ were accepted as normal growing pains and the pastor would still reassure Bart and his parents that God’s love was eternal and unconditional; before the congregation started to view him as a troublesome distraction to be hidden in the back row where the good word barely reached his ears. 

“She told me I needed to find a desert rose and carry it with me wherever I went,” Bart continues after a long moment wherein Uri slurps loudly at his Budweiser and Bart picks the skin around his fingernails. 

“Said that a desert rose would help my brain be quiet and would help me--” he grimaces, almost a flinch. It all sounds so absurd now that he is an adult. “That it would make me understand my emotions and give me serenity.”

“So you got one tattooed?”

“Not at first,” Bart shakes his head. “I didn’t know what a desert rose looked like but I spent all summer looking for one. Got in more trouble rooting around in people’s lawns than I ever did fucking around in church.” 

Bart huffs a laugh, eyes unfocused on the horizon and setting sun. “I hunted everywhere. Broke into hardware stores, backyards… even took a bus all the way to Billings once because I heard MSU had a greenhouse but they wouldn’t let me in.” 

His hands flex around the can he holds and Bart scowls, familiar anger bubbling in his throat along with the equally intimate feelings of shame and inadequacy that are always resurrected when he thinks about his old life. 

“I thought if I could just find one, then all my problems would be solved and I’d get all my old friends back. That I would be normal for as long as I could hang onto it. I was completely obsessed.”

Uri smirks and nudges Bart’s ribs with his elbow, a good-natured jostle that pulls Bart back to the present. “Some things never change, huh?” He teases. “Did you ever manage to get your hands on one?”

“Naw,” Bart sighs. “When I was sixteen, I found a picture in a field guide and convinced my sister’s boyfriend to tattoo it for me. I figured that would be the next best thing if I couldn’t get a real one.”

Now comes the part of this story Bart hates telling and he yanks the zipper of his hoodie back up his neck despite the sweltering temperature. “I found out a few years later that she wasn’t even talking about flowers. A desert rose is a type of fuckin’ rock that hippies use to meditate with or some shit. I got a stupid flower tattoo for nothing.”

Uri leans back on his palms and considers Bart from beneath his eyelashes, brown eyes glowing amber in the dying light. His expression, so open and non-judgmental, makes Bart’s stomach churn. 

“Y’know,” Uri drawls. “I don’t know much about spirituality or however you’d define this kind of thing but I’m pretty sure it’s not the object that counts so much as your belief and conviction in what it does.” He claps a wide palm in the center of Bart’s back. “You were just a kid, misinterpreting the message is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Yeah, well.” Bart drains his lukewarm beer in a few quick gulps and throws the can as far away from himself as he can manage, watching it sail into the approaching shadow of the treeline. “Belief obviously wasn’t enough because I’m still--” he points at his own ear and mimes a spiral with his finger, the universal sign for cuckoo-crazy. 

Uri’s face falls. “Bart,” he prods gently.

Bart shakes his head and pulls his hood up over his hair, burying himself beneath his clothes again before hopping off the hood and crossing to the passenger-side door. 

“I have shit to do tonight,” he grumbles and folds his exhausted body into the cab before Uri can stop him. “Take me home.”

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

BTS as FWB

Maknae Line

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, alcohol tw

Word Count: 2,585

Taehyung (V)

Look, in his mind you're his gf he doesn't understand fwb

He likes you so much and when you suggest an arrangement he's stoked but really he just thinks you're dating

You are definitely the one who's afraid of commitment this boy would marry you in a month if you were down

So many pet names: baby, honey, Jagiya, beautiful, darling you wonder if he knows your actual name

Confused puppy "I can't text you so much? But we have a thing."

"Not a serious thing."

Pouty boi

Sweet in bed, generous lover, will eat you out for HOURS if you'd let him (you find out real quick about his oral fixation)

You absolutely know he will freak if he knows you're seeing someone else

He takes it a lot better than you thought

He's just kinda quiet, nodding

"You can see other people too, you know."

"Sure, sure." He waves you off.

He's not usually the jealous type but since things are certain between you he is salty

Oh boy the first time you have sex after he finds out

IT'S ON

Rough, pulling your hair, dirty talk in his deep ass voice, marks all over your neck, chest, thighs

You: shook. Your panties: flooded

A little cocky afterward when your legs are still shaking he leaves, which is way unusual he usually stays to cuddle

He's only obviously mad about it if he finds out you're going on actual dates with some guy

Gets STUPID drunk with his friends

They definitely text you to warn you he's feeling some type of way

Crying on your voicemail at 2am

Ubers to your house

"Is he here?" Looking around your place suspiciously

So sloppy drunk omg

Like falling down drunk you gotta all but carry his heavy ass to the bed

You can't help but stroke his hair after he pukes in your wastebasket he's so pitiful

Babbles incoherently about how amazing you are

"You know I'm in love with you, right?"

Will literally break your heart by being the sweetest boy alive

When you wake up the next morning though he's goneBarely responds to your texts

Starts calling you y/n instead of pet names so you know he's pissed

Says petty shit like "Aren't you busy with your bf?" When you ask to hang out

Turns on a dime bc he feels pathetic for liking you so much when you obviously don't care. His pride is hurt

Definitely tries to make you jealous when you end up at a mutual party

All over this girl, making out with her in the kitchen

You act unaffected (you are not)

You end up drunk af and dirty dancing with Hobi when Tae snatches your arm and hauls you to an empty bedroom

Passionate kissing, he's trying to show you what you're missing

He's still mad but he's drunk enough to be honest

"Why him? Why won't you date me? You know how I feel about you."

You tell him you're scared, girls are all over him just look at that bitch from earlier

"I only did that because you broke my heart, Jagi."

When you finally tell him you love him too he is the happiest boy

Boxy smile for days

Will propose to you after three months max

Jimin

He doesn't know you that well when you suggest an arrangement but you're hot and nice and he's a busy man so he's all for it

He falls in love with you about 30 seconds after you start hanging out regularly

He's ALL talk, when you finally get him alone in your bed he's shy, blushing when you touch him

Takes him a while to get comfortable with you but oh man when he does

Also a switch look he's the switchiest switch to ever switch next to Hobi

You get whiplash bc one minute he's begging you in whiny moans to let him inside you and the next minute you're begging him to let you come

Such a tease, oh my God

Foreplay for HOURS

Will just ever so lightly run his fingers up and down your legs while you're doing Netflix and chill

Stops just when you get worked up giving you a sheepish grin

Mostly teases you until you jump his bones

But gets so whiny when you do it to him (he loves it)

You walk around in booty shorts and no bra but won't let him touch you and he's SALIVATING

He is always touching you, in private or public he lives for skinship

It makes him shiver when you reciprocate though, just a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck and he's hard

You love doing that to him when you're out to lunch or watching Game of Thrones with the boys and he gives you such an evil eye

Y'all fucking everywhere, all the time

Once he gets comfortable with you this boy will not stop

You have very little time for anything else when he's not physically there he's sending you sexts and pics of his abs

Brags about you to literally everyone, his friends, his mom, strangers on the street

He will literally put "it's complicated" on his FB relationship status

BTW you're all over his social media everybody knows what's up

tons of pictures together

His phone background is a selfie of him kissing you

Begs for nudes on the daily until you send him a bunch while he's at dance practice and he opens it when Tae is standing behind him, getting a free show

Jimin is big mad when Tae lets out a low wolf whistle

Will definitely not so playfully wrestle him to the ground if he keeps it up

Never asks you for nudes again but saves the ones you send to use when youre unavailable

Is the happiest boy ever when you call him a pet name like "Jiminie" or "baby"

Huge flirt when he's drunk but always makes his way back to you

God help you if you show even the slightest bit of attention to another guy (guy, girl, pet, houseplant) when he's around

The poutiest jealous baby in the world

He's had feelings since day one and everyone knows but he's too insecure to actually say it

When you blow him off to hang out with another guy he's a MESS, similar to Tae

He is literally crying in the club when the guys take him out to cheer him up

One drop of alcohol and he drunk dials and texts you but this time it's bad

His friends have to physically take his phone bc you're not answering and he's getting more and more drunk

When you finally call back after you get home a very exasperated Namjoon all but carries Jimin to your apartment. "You did this. He's your problem now."

Namjoon doesn't like you much already bc he knows how Jimin feels about you and he's d o n e

Jimin almost knocks you to the ground throwing his arms around you, smelling like a bottle of tequila, sloppy kisses

"Jimin what the fuck-"

"I missed you, baby. Where you been?"

"Jimin I told you I was hanging out with Chanyeol-"

Suddenly his drunk ass remembers why he's such a mess

He's not even mad at first this insecure baby just asks you ten million questions

He'll start casual but he's fucked up so it isn't long before the questions turn

"Did you have fun?"

"Sure, we-"

"Is he better looking than me? Did he fuck you better? Is he bigger than me? Why won't you answer me?"

You have to force him to the bedroom and then he refuses to get on the bed

"I'm not sleeping where you fucked someone else."

"Oh my GOD, Jimin, I didn't-"

"You didn't fuck him?"

"Not here, I didn't!" You're exasperated by this point he is being so difficult

But then you see his pouty bottom lip trembling

"Jimin, are you crying?"

Well if he wasn't before he is now (we all know this soft baby boy)

You end up holding him all night thinking that when he wakes up he'll calm down and be embarrassed you are no stranger to crying while you were fucked up

Jokes on you he's still crying when you wake up the next morning, clinging to you like a koala bear

"I know I'm not enough for you baby but I can't take it when you're out with other guys!"

You spend an hour praising him and telling him he's definitely enough and he preens like a goddamn cockatoo (this boy's praise kink is a mile wide we all know)

You tell him how good he is and he fucks you into next week before he's clinging to you all over again

"Tell me you won't do that again, baby. Tell me you're only mine."

You give in bc he's so fucking adorable and tell him you'll think about it

He's persistent af

Every morning you crack open one eye and read "how about now?" from his needy ass

You finally text back "FINE" after three days

He shows up at your door with flowers and a big grin

He's cute or whatever

Maybe you're in love

Jungkook

You really have to talk him into this arrangement

You had hooked up with him at a party after you'd been friends for a couple of weeks and you may or may not have been thirsty

But he's hesitant

"This shit never works out well. Someone always gets hurt."

You're all whiny like "I'm a big girl I won't catch feelings get over yourself."

He just tucks his tongue into his cheek bc he's not worried about YOU catching feelings

Low-key a soft boi

You basically just sext him and send him nudes to appeal to his hormones and it works

About a week after you talked about it he comes to your place after the club

At first you only fuck when he's been drinking it's a guarantee that you're getting the D when he's had a drop of alcohol

I've said this once and I'll say it again put it on my gravestone

Jeon Jungkook is NOT A DOM

He's not a sub either but he is not having a daddy kink you'll have to find that shit in porn ok

At first even when he's shitfaced he's hesitant with you, asking permission before he touches you

Good Lord this boy loves getting head

Seeing you on your knees is his ultimate weakness

And he will ALWAYS reciprocate

And fuck you right after bc he's up again in ten minutes

Look I know I said he's not a Dom but he loves the way you look with come on your face

You've never had a guy be so fucking sweet to you right after saying the dirtiest shit

He'll bring you a towel and wash your hair if he's missed the aim

He hasn't been with many girls and nobody long term

So after a few weeks he learns your body and he will fuck you everywhere

On the kitchen table

Bent over the couch

Once in the elevator of your apartment

He gets so hard when you tease him and won't let him touch you it's ridiculous

He ain't too proud to beg, that's for sure

Low-key loves to cuddle but won't initiate it

Is not shy about asking for sex will be like "Wanna fuck?" after you get done eating burritos or something

He doesn't stay the night until after one night when you both were really drunk after the club and he was too hungover to leave

You took care of him and bought him greasy food and watched him play Overwatch

He kept meaning to leave but you were so sweet and cute

Next thing he knows you're riding him on your bed and it's really during sex that he realizes he's fucked, in more ways than one

You flip your hair back and brace your hands on his chest and you just look so beautiful and he's like oh no

He leaves right after but you shrug it off since he's been so hungover

But then he's shady and rarely texts you for a couple weeks

You're starting to think he's found a girl he likes bc he's been out a lot according to his friends

He's partying his troubles away

He does NOT want to tell you he's caught feelings especially since you had to literally talk him into this

And the more he's around you the more he wants to cuff you so he avoids you and fucks around, trying not to compare every girl to you

You're the first girl he's been with more than a handful of times and he is Jungshook at the possibility that he's fallen in love

He's a dick to his friends, snapping at them about nothing bc he misses you

"God, just call her already." Jimin fumes after he bites his head off for leaving dishes in the sink.

Jungkook shakes his head.

"I saw her out with her friends the other night, you know."

Jungkook sets his jaw but otherwise doesn't react

"Ok, but she's too hot to wait forever."

Jungkook shrugs but he starts going to bars you might frequent, telling himself he wasn't looking for you

You do start going out with other guys, since the arrangement seems over and you were never exclusive anyway

You're making out with a guy after a wild night with your girlfriends and while he's kissing your neck you see Jungkook over his shoulder, staring at you, beer in hand

He. Looks. Livid.

You shrug it off as male ego and end up taking the guy home

When you look at your phone after an hour or so Jungkook is blowing you the fuck up

First it's casual "hey it's been a while wyd"

"who's the nerd?"

"u up?"

"let me come over"

You know he's still drinking when at 5am he texts you "wake up I miss you"

He shows up looking a whole mess just as the guy is leaving

He smells like a brewery and he's got lipstick stains on his collar

You smirk at him

"Missed me, huh?"

"Maybe."

He sees the guy leaving and suddenly he has absolute murder in his eyes, literally cracking his knuckles

The poor guy fucking books it without even getting your number

"So," he says, leaning against your doorjamb as if trying to look sexy (he does) but you figure he just really can't stand up straight (also true)

"So?"

"Did you fuck that loser?" He's got his tongue working his cheek again.

"Oh, so now you're talking to me again and that's the first thing you ask? You jealous, Kookie?"

He grabs you suddenly and pulls you into his arms and now he's not trying to be tough anymore

He kisses your shoulder

"Yeah, I'm jealous."

"Why?"

He pulls away and kisses you real sweet

"Maybe I like you."

"Yeah?" You need more than that.

"A little."

"Uh huh. Well he said he liked me a lot so maybe I'll call him-"

He grabs you around the waist and kisses you harder this time

"Don't you dare," he growls.

He puts his forehead to yours.

"Maybe I love you."

"Why didn't you just say that? Maybe I love you too, dork."

Sweetest bunny smile

Jungkook is the world's best boyfriend, don't @me

[getaloadofthistoad]

I had a sort of sad realization today (TW mental health). This is gonna be long and rough lol.

TLDR: my coping mechanisms of soothing negative self-talk are not helping, but they've kept me alive so far, so I guess that's that's plus. But also why do I do this to myself??

When I was in 3rd grade, I was in an awful place. My family had just moved over 600 miles from the only friends I had in the world, my dad had to commute to his job and couldn't spend as much time with us, my younger sisters wanted nothing to do with me, within a year my mom was diagnosed with a rare form of breast cancer that could have killed her if we'd tested any earlier or later, I was being bullied at school and at church, and my one and only friend was the shyest person you will ever meet. It was too much for my 8 year old body to handle. I was mad at everybody and had no support system.

I was just talking with my roommate now about coping mechanisms, and how as children we do what we can to keep ourselves "safe," whether it's healthy or not, constructive or destructive. As adults we can try to change those habits, but we shouldn't blame ourselves for doing what we could with what we were given.

I started thinking back on that time in 3rd grade, and I think that's when I started "experimenting" with coping mechanisms. I tended to escape into books to avoid my real-life issues whenever I was upset, which was fine but turned into a habit of avoidance and bottling and self-gaslighting. "You're overreacting. Calm down and read this book instead of communicating why you're upset."

I also became physically...not violent, but I remember a time when I tore up an entire newspaper and threw the scraps all over the house because my mom used pen to help me with the crossword when I wanted to do it in pencil. Also when I was upset, I started beating my chest with my fists and refused to be touched, to the point that my parents wondered if I had autism (why they never got me tested or put into therapy I will never understand).

But those weren't the coping mechanisms that stuck. No, it was the negative self-talk in order to self-soothe. There's a certain comfort in telling yourself that it's okay you didn't get to tell about your day at the dinner table because nobody really cares about you anyway. It's fine to cry silently because nobody cares about preventing your tears in the first place. Don't worry about your own problems because nobody else worries about you either.

It's been well over a decade and I still have those negative self-soothing thoughts. It's been the hardest thing to shake because it's so automatic and second nature and subconscious at this point. And I recently discovered I have imposter syndrome too, which just feeds that cycle.

But there's still that comfort in "knowing" that nobody cares or that everyone hates me. And not in the optimistic nihilistic sense of "the universe doesn't care if I wear my favorite pink sparkly hoodie to the meeting with the CEO." It's that, "nobody cares but me, so I will care enough for all of us and it will break my back and heart but I don't care cuz you don't care, so I'll just keep on trudging until eventually I die and I wonder who will care enough to come to my funeral."

I even give impromptu "tests" to see who seems to genuinely care. Who notices I haven't been getting enough sleep? Who's the first one in the room to wish me happy birthday? Who says "let's hang out" and then actually follows through? It fucking sucks and I don't want to rank my loved ones like that because lord knows I'm not the most observant person myself, but it confirms that by and large, nobody cares.

A friend of mine posted recently about one of those "some of you have never had people act friendly to you in order to laugh at you and you know it's a trap but you don't know how and it shows." And I realized I ACTIVELY SEEK OUT situations for people to make fun of me just to confirm that's still a thing, that I'm still worthless and pathetic, that my distant, foggy memories of being bullied are valid because it's still happening to this day, that people will still just hate on me and my favorite things for the fun of it. And that is so fucking stupid and self-destructive but it's safe because it's familiar and affirms my thinking (and we all know how much humans love to be correct).

So if you've read all this, welcome to my tumblr. I'm new and I'm a fucking mess. Some days I may post funny food combinations or a cute mushroom I found, and some days I may pretend that my typing to the void will somehow change how my utterly un-unique, silly little problems are making me the first-world version of miserable, and word things like that as a way of fishing for reassurance that I'm human and valid. It's gonna be fun!

[eviebugsicons]

Prompt from Avenged Sevenfold’s album Avenged Sevenfold (2007). There is harsh language, and some situations that aren’t appropriate for all viewers. Special thanks to my friend for helping me finish this. Feel free to change pronouns, etc.  tw: harsh language, dark themes

Critical Acclaim

you might piss somebody off

you've been at it for too long while you feed off others' insecurities

Self-righteousness is wearing thin

It's time for something real

I don't respect the words you're speaking

I'll be damned if you count me in as part of your generous hypocrisy

I've had enough

It's time for something real

Almost Easy

I feel insane every single time I'm asked to compromise

I'm afraid and stuck in my ways

So how long did I expect love to outweigh ignorance?

By that look on your face I may have forced the scale to tip

I'm not insane

Come back to me, it's almost easy

Shame pulses through my heart from the things I've done to you

It's hard to face, but the fact remains that this is nothing new

I've tried to hold on as you've slowly slipped away.

I'm losing the fight.

I've treated you so wrong, now let me make it right.

SCREAM 

You know I make you wanna scream

You know I make you wanna run from me baby

We've all had a time where we've lost control

We've all had our time to grow

Some live repressing their instinctive feelings

Protest the way we're built, don't point the blame on me

Afterlife

We've been waiting for you.

you'll be back here soon anyway

I see a distant light, but girl this can't be right.

Such a surreal place to see so how did this come to be, arrived too early.  

When I think of all the places I just don't belong, I've come to grips with life and realize this is going too far.

I don't belong here,

we gotta move on dear

This time I'm right to move on

Can leave this place but refrain, 'cause we've been waiting for you.

This peace on earth's not right

So out of place don't wanna stay, I feel wrong and that's my sign.

I've made up my mind.

Gave me your hand but realize I just wanna say goodbye.

Please understand I have to leave and carry on my own life.

Got nothing against you and surely I'll miss you.

I'd hoped you might take me back inside, when the time is right.

Loved ones back home all crying 'cause they're already missing me.

I pray by the grace of God that there's somebody listening.

Give me a chance to be that person I wanna be.

You gotta let go of me

I need another chance to live

Gunslinger

I've been gone for far too long

With all that we've been through, after all this time I'm coming home to you

It don't matter when I'm coming home to you

I reach towards the sky I've said my goodbyes

My heart's always with you now

I won't question why so many have died

Letters keep me warm, helped me through the storm

I've always been true

I've waited so long just to come hold you

I'm making it through

It's been far too long, we've proven our love over time's so strong, in all that we do

The stars in the night, they lend me their light to bring me closer to heaven with you

Unbound

Somewhere life is good

I’m scarred by barrier placed in my path

This ride that takes me through life

Lead me into darkness but emerges into light

No one can ever slow me down

Don’t be too concerned, you’ve got a lot to learn

I never lived in fear

There’s nothing here to take for granted

Memories remain as time goes on

Brompton Cocktail

I’m feeling compromised

I can’t struggle on

I’m not running away

We gotta be strong

I want to feel alive again

So put that smile back on my face

I believe my sins have been forgiven

I believe my choice will save me

Please don’t question why

Lost

War in our blood, some things never change

Fighting for land and personal gain

Better for your life

The end is knocking

We’ve all been lost for most of this life

Everywhere we turn more hatred surrounds us

Following the wrong steps, being led by pride

How many lives will we take How many hearts destined to break

Nowhere to run With peace of mind so hard to find

We’re dwelling on drastic signs

Another way to numb our mind

Pray for a better life

A Little Piece of Heaven

Is it such a sin? 

We were more than friends I will take what’s mine 

Create what God would never design 

Our love had been so strong for far too long I was weak with fear that something would go wrong 

I took all possibility from you 

Almost laughed myself to tears 

Conjuring her deepest fears 

She was never this good in bed 

I’ve never been quite so fucking deep in 

I really always knew that was my little crime would be so cold 

I know it’s not your time 

A word to the wise when the fire dies you think its over but its just begun

You had my heart, at least for the most part 

We fell apart, let’s make a new start 

Everybody’s gotta die sometimes 

Now that it’s done I realize the error of my ways 

I must venture back to apologize 

I gotta make up for what I’ve done 

Let’s have a wedding 

Let’s start the killing

Dear God

Miles away from those I love 

Can’t help but wish that I was there 

Hold her when I’m not around 

We all need that person who can be true to you 

I left her when I found her 

Now I wish I’d stayed 

I’m lonely and I’m tired 

I’m missing you again 

There’s nothing here for me 

There’s no one here while the city sleeps 

Can’t help but think of the times I’ve had with you 

Pictures and some memories will have to help me through 

Some search, never finding a way 

I found you 

Something told me to stay 

Now I miss someone to hold

[judecz]

damn, lucy, back at it again. this is the second love of my life, jude ! i am here for all the plots, so please, slide into my IMs & i’ll love you forever. click under the cut to hear me rant some more about this jerk, or give me a like to slide into ur d-scord ;~) ! you can check out his factfile here and his pinterest here !

TW: addiction ( drug + alcohol ), physical abuse, death !!!

 [ LORENZO ZURZOLO / ARETE / MNEMOSYNE / MUSE 20 ] / [ JUDE CZERNY ] is a [ 21 ] year old [ MATHEMATICS ] major. [ HE ] is known for being [ GRITTY & LAID-BACK ] but [ FLIPPANT & MOODY ].  when i think of them, i imagine [ BLOODY KNUCKLES, SOUR CANDY, SPRINTS TO THE FINISH LINE, CHEAP T-SHIRTS ]. and even though they’re a proud HU student now, we all have our roots. theirs run back to them being an [ OAK PARK - COPERNICUS ] graduate.  i asked around and it turns out they [ ARE ] an AOP student. in their interview, they managed to woo the admissions team by [ CREATING A NEW PROOF FOR THE BIRCH AND SWINNERTON-DYER CONJECTURE ]. i guess that’s all there is to know! unless…

when you’re born, you’re an inconvenience. it’s 9pm on christmas eve when you come wailing into the world. neither the nurse that swaddles you tightly nor your parents particularly want to be in the cold hospital, shivering under neon fairy lights in the depth of a south chicagoan winter. neither do you. 

while you’re young, your mama is your hero. you don’t realise it yet, but she’s got a problem; there’s a reason why she sits zoned out on the couch as you tug at her cardigan, why your older brother has to cook you breakfast, brush your hair. and god bless him, he does it dutifully. when your mother tries to sober up, though, she’s perfect. she sings you lullabies in czech and kisses your nose, and you wish every night on the streetlight outside your window that the next day will be a good day.

most of the time, it isn’t. ruth sits complacent on the couch, glazed eyes fixed on the broken television. yet, even when she’s like this; she’s still better than your father. john drinks like a fish, and it brings out the worst side of him. he’s the most violent person you know. after every lost bet, every long night in the bar, you cower with your brother in your shared bed, head underneath the covers. yet it’s always still you that bears the brunt of his wrath.

it’s not your fault. thomas is the oldest, and the only useful one. phillip’s still small and cute, a couple of years younger than you, and looks exactly like your father. it’s you that’s stuck in the middle; you have your mother’s dreamy eyes and the sharp nose of your father, and it’s not enough to stop him from picking at you, pulling you apart. you always disliked him because he disliked you, right from the start.

you live like this for a long time. it’s not until you’re thirteen that your father drinks himself to death. he picks a fight with the wrong person, and bleeds out in an alleyway outside his favourite bar. despite all this, you can’t bring yourself to grieve. too often has your skin been tainted the same shade as your funeral suit from your father’s fists. good riddance.

your mom tries. she really does. but she can’t bring herself to get clean, even with your pleading. one day, they walk in on her shooting up. it’s essentially a death sentence for your family.

so instead, you three boys were torn from the last semblance of normality you had. no one wants three dysfunctional delinquents, but you cling together. screaming, tantrums, breaking things; you’ll anything to stop them from splitting you up. you’re not allowed any contact with your mother, and it breaks your heart, over and over again.

you never find a home for longer than a month. moving from group home to group home, they all have one quality in common: no one there really cares about you. quickly, you turn to crime. your father had taught you how to hotwire a care when you seven, baby-cheeked and innocent. he taught you how to pick a lock when you were six. it was the only thing he was good for.

it started with breaking and entering. you usually get away with it, too. burglary is easy when you were scrawny and small, and can shimmy in a window in seconds. besides, the money helps provide for the three of you; you run away often enough. you have to fend for yourself. at one point, you manage to spend an entire month homeless. but at least you’re still together.

as you grow older, you grow better at what you do. carjacking and vandalism seem more and more fun. the kids at the foster homes aren’t exactly shining examples, either; you were either being tossed around by the older kids, or asked to join in their schemes. you much preferred the second option. 

your life continues like this until you’re sixteen. you learn to throw a solid left hook quickly. you switch from high school to high school as you move from house to house, never able to settle. but you have your brothers. you’re as close to happy as you can be. then everything goes wrong. thomas gets caught.

you can’t let him get locked up. he’s just turned eighteen, and that means prison time. so instead, you take the fall. vandalism. breaking and entering. theft. willful destruction of property. you stand in front of the judge; she’s a pristine blonde woman from the lake forest suburbs, and she is not lenient on you. it’s juvenile prison or nothing. as your brothers watch on, you’re led away.

you spend a year there. it’s worse than any foster home, but you develop a thick skin. at least all the punches you take aren’t for nothing. it’s here that you learn you have dyslexia & adhd. it’s here you’re blinded in one eye after another inmate gets hold of a knife, catches you in the dark, makes you pay for someone else’s sins. it’s also here that you learn you’re extraordinarily gifted at maths. a prodigy, someone calls you. it’s funny. at school you had sat at the back of the classroom, never able to see the blackboard in maths class.

when you turn seventeen, you’re let out. thomas is nineteen, working as a mechanic, trying to make a legitimate living. quickly, he gets the paperwork sorted to make him your legal guardian, and phillip’s too; for the first time, the three of you are reunited again. 

you finish your final year of high school at oak park academy. you’d won a scholarship while in juvy, swearing you’d never return to the halls of your old school. oak park is an opportunity you’d never even dreamed of. you keep your head down and for the first time, you enjoy school. you make a few friends. no one here knows your troubled past, and you don’t tell them. you fly through maths problems like they’re simple sums, but english still evades you. you persevere, however, and graduate at the end of a long twelve months. not long enough. you wonder what your life would be like if you’d been here all along. 

and with the opportunity of oak park, comes hatchett. you applied to every university in the country, but you have your eye on one in particular. you turn up to your interview, stomach churning and hands shaking. still, you spit numbers like they’re silver, quick fingers scraping chalk across the blackboard, ignoring the observant eyes of the panel. you work like you’ve never worked before. by the time you leave, your arms are dusted with white, your brow sweaty; but from the approving looks, your heart soars. you get your acceptance letter, and you glow. a full ride. it’s a blank page, simply waiting. 

before you leave chicago for good, however, you have one last thing to do. after a mile long trail of paper and records, of doors slammed in your face and unanswered calls, you find your mom again. you’re surprised she’s still alive. she cries when you show up at her door, and your heart still bleeds when you watch her. even now you still call her, your voice thick with affection; yet you still tell people both your parents are dead. it’s easier that way.

your label is mnemosyne; memory. the memory of the life you used to live haunts you, like a ghost, long fingers digging into every corner of your brain. you’ll never forget the sharp glint of a knife, the screeching sirens of a police car, the smell of blood fresh on your knuckles. still, you tell yourself. you can change, you can change. you’re a shapeshifter now, boy. you’ve erased your old life from both your memory and everybody elses’. no-one needs to know — so you keep the memories of the real you tucked away deep inside your mind. you remember the soft smell of your mother’s hair. the pattern on your childhood duvet. your brother’s laugh, your brother’s crooked smile. you remember the important things, and leave the rest to be washed away by the tide of memory.

[rising-generations]

Iris. [SDRA2 Sannohashi Oneshot]

read on ao3 here if you please

plot:

and i don't want the world to see me 'cause i don't think that they'd understand when everything's made to be broken i just want you to know who i am.

syobai hashimoto has to fix the biggest mistake he's ever made in his life. mikado sannoji has to deal with what syobai leaves behind when he runs away. it was never supposed to go this far.

syobai-focused sannohashi, set in the "nuclear" AU. more explained inside. featuring trans!mikado and sora/syobai friendship. tw for mentions of suicide attempt in the beginning.

notes:

So to make a long story short, this series takes place after a huge nuclear war decimated half of the human population and fucked up a lot of shit with the environment and people's bodies. Everybody knows shit's fucked. The SDRA2 kids exist in the same universe as the rest of the canon Ultimates, and everyone's around the same age (THH and NDRV3 kids are about 22, SDR2 kids are 23, SDRA2 kids are around 20-21). So everyone's an adult. Don't come for my throat. Don't like it, don't leave a nasty comment, thanks! Bad and stinky comments will be placed inside the bee oven to atone for their sins.

It's not often that Syobai admits this, but this time, he's absolutely, completely, royally, fucked up. Badly. And normally he doesn't care, but this time is so very different. Sitting at a table in a nearly-empty diner at half-past noon is not where he thought he was gonna end up today, but here he is, with his head in his hands, staring down at his phone's lock screen, counting the minutes since Sora sent her "omw" text.

This diner serves whiskey. A lot of places serve liquor now, have since the war tore the world apart and left millions of traumatized people to deal with the aftermath, many of them turning to alcohol to cope. Syobai has been drinking since the ripe old age of ten, so that's not new to him, and the whiskey they have here is strong, and it's tempting.

It's so, so tempting. But if he does that, it won't end very well for him; first of all, Sora would likely -- definitely -- beat his ass into next week if she shows up and finds him drunk. Second, in the state he's currently in emotionally, if he gets drunk, all he's going to do is remember things, and when he remembers things, he ends up waking up on the bathroom floor at 3 AM in a puddle of his own tears with a bottle of pain pills in his hand.

So Syobai won't drink. Not today, anyway. But God damn, does he really want to smoke.

As soon as he starts to get up to go outside (the diner has a no smoking policy, which he thinks is stupid considering the fact that nuclear warfare has done shit to the air they don't even know about yet, but he's not willing to get kicked out and risk a beating by Sora yet again), the universe interferes with his life once more. Sora steps in through the door of the diner.

Well there goes that plan.

She spots him fairly quickly and strides over to the booth in the back corner, sliding into the seat like nothing's changed. Syobai remembers when they'd used to skip class every Wednesday and go down to the diner down the street from Hope's Peak, the one that served all the crazy Western food, and dare each other to eat the craziest shit on the menu as fast as they could without puking or choking. Sora, of course, would win every time, and "claim her victory for all of the lesbians out there."

It's enough to make him smile a little bit. The diner was abandoned when the war started, but they still hang out there sometimes.

"So, you wanna tell me what's wrong with you?"

Sora's voice breaks through his thoughts, and Syobai lifts his head to look at her. She's got her chin in her hand, and her elbow propped on the table.

"Elbows on the table? Not very lady-like," Syobai jokes. With her free hand, Sora flips him off, and he snickers. "I'm kidding, geez. Who says there's anything wrong with me?"

Sora points at the complimentary basket of chips the diner serves with every customer. "There's food on the table, and you haven't eaten it all yet to spite me. Now, I asked you nicely. Don't make me come over there."

Well. Looks like he can't stall his explanation anymore.

He lets out a long, heavy, slow sigh, and laces his fingers together in front of him on the table. Syobai turns his grey-eyed gaze down towards the surface of the table, before forcing himself to look up and meet Sora's eyes.

"I need your help," he says simply. "I fucked up."

"You do that a lot. Elaborate."

"I fucked up really, really bad." Syobai pauses. "With Mikado."

Sora tilts her head. "Last time I asked, you told me the two of you were "just sleeping together casually." Did you lie to me, Syobai?"

Syobai swallows heavily. He can hear his heart beating in his ears.

"Mikado is pregnant," he finally says. The words actually leaving his lips feel like the final blow in a fight, and he's just lost. "With my children."

"... oh." Sora blinks a few times. "So this was an accident, I take it? Whatever happened to high school Syobai Hashimoto who carried five different types of condoms in his wallet at all times just in case he met a hot guy walking home from school?"

"Hey, in my defense, I usually still have condoms." Yes, they're a bit harder to find nowadays, as is almost everything, but up until now, he's always managed to have one on hand for when the two of them start feeling frisky (which tends to happen at least once a day). "To answer your question, though, what happened is Setsuka decided to get hitched."

"The party," Sora gasps, remembering suddenly. "Oh, my God. So you two did fuck in the bathroom! Emma owes me five thousand yen."

"Yes, we did do that," Syobai mumbles. It's not totally his fault, he thinks. It's not like Mikado wasn't grinding on him half the night, begging him to fuck him as hard as he could against the wall. It's no doubt the best sex he's ever had in his life.

And, of course, it's the one time they fuck without a condom and without pulling out. Not that that's guaranteed to help anything, but hey, it might have? Maybe it's just wishful thinking on Syobai's part.

"So what's the problem?" Sora continues. "Does he not want the babies?"

Syobai looks away. "I, uh. I don't know."

Sora's eyes narrow dangerously. "You didn't talk to him about it?"

Syobai gives a dry laugh. "Well, ya see, that's where the whole "I fucked up really bad" bit comes in."

"What'd you do." This isn't spoken as a question, somehow, as Sora's voice deepens. She's already pissed off, great, and Syobai has a feeling she won't be any happier when he tells this part of the story.

"Um." Syobai swallows again, more nervous this time. "I... I ran off."

Silence. "Excuse me?" Sora says. "You wanna run that by me again?"

Syobai still isn't meeting her eyes. He recalls exactly how the exchange went, just about two hours ago now.

"I'm pregnant."

The world stops turning.

Mikado's holding his hands over his stomach, gloved fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly his hands shake. Syobai, on the other hand, just. Stands there. Staring at Mikado, completely speechless.

Before he knows it, his body is reacting all on its own. Syobai opens his mouth, trying to form an intelligent response, but all that comes out is two words he'll regret deeply:

"I can't."

Before Mikado reacts to that, Syobai yanks the front door open and takes off down the street, running and running and running until he can't, falling to his knees behind the 7-11 -- how the hell did he get there, it's a mile from the house -- choking and coughing before he inevitably pukes from the strain of running so far, so fast.

This all goes through his head in the span of about two seconds. "I just stood there like an idiot," Syobai finally says. "I -- I said I can't and then I ran." His hand curls into a fist. "I ran like the dumb fucking coward I am." He brings his fist down on the table as hard as he can. Sora doesn't jump, instead staring at him evenly. "Go ahead and say it. I know you want to."

"You're right for once. What the hell is wrong with you?" Sora snaps. "I know that taking responsibility for your numerous fuck-ups is completely foreign to you, and usually you get away with it with no consequences because that's just how it is when you deal with people you don't care about and criminals, and hey, I can let it go when it's some nameless Yakuza dude who got assassinated with a gun you sold someone 'cause I don't care either," she begins. "But then, you turn around and do this shit? To Mikado? To someone we all know, and yeah, he might be a rat, but he doesn't deserve to be left high and dry and pregnant and scared because you --" And here she points at him, Syobai flinching as every word cuts deeper, "-- are a fucking coward. You're God damn right you screwed up."

"I was scared," Syobai says, his weak attempt at a protest surprising even himself.

"You were scared?" Sora laughs, and it's bitter. "That's funny. It's funny that you were scared. How do you think Mikado feels right now? Alone, facing the possibility of having to raise more than one child by himself after the man he's spent half of high school madly in love with, and the man he's been sleeping with for the past six months, ran away when he told him he'd gotten him pregnant?"

There's really nothing he can say to that. Syobai sighs shakily. "I wasn't just scared because he's pregnant," he finally says. "I was scared because..."

He shuts his eyes.

"Because I love him. I love him, so much that it hurts, and I may as well have just stabbed him right in the chest."

"And you're not used to that," Sora says. "You're not used to caring for anyone except yourself. But as long as you kept telling yourself it was just for fun, and there were no feelings involved, you could shrug it off. Maybe a part of you thought Mikado felt the same way, like it was just a game. Then he started to make your world wider, you started to get comfortable with it, and you got scared. Then he came to you, and told you that it wasn't just him anymore, and you panicked. You couldn't handle it. But instead of staying there and talking to him about it like an adult, you were just cryptic, and then you ran away."

Syobai opens his eyes and looks over at Sora. He somehow looks even older than he usually does. "Yeah. Yeah, you got me there." He swallows, heavily, and his mouth tastes like copper from how hard he's been chewing on his inner lip. "It was just supposed to be for fun. It was never supposed to be serious."

"Yeah, well, tough shit," Sora shrugs. "Mikado's pregnant. You're gonna be a dad. You could run all the way to America and it wouldn't change a thing. The only difference is, Mikado has to live with what you gave him forever. You've got two choices: you can drag your sorry ass home and show Mikado you're sorry, or you can keep running away. But, I'll have you know..." And here, Sora's voice darkens, and she looks more dangerous now than she ever did before even with a gun in her hands, "If you leave him like that? And if you ever run away from him like that again? And dare to show your face in Japan again? I will personally hunt you down and make you beg for me to kill you. Understand?"

"... yeah. I understand," Syobai replies. He runs a hand through his hair while Sora takes a couple of breaths to calm herself down. "I don't want to leave him. But I don't think I'm ready to be a father. Or much of anything, really." He looks down at his hands, rough and calloused and forever stained with the blood of so many that only he can see. "What if I can't love them?"

"If you love Mikado as much as you say you do, you'll fall in love with those babies way before they're ever born," Sora tells him. "Listen. This world's gone to shit. It's gonna be hard to raise a family like this. That's why Yoruko and I are waiting. But it's a little too late for you to do that, so all you can do is suck it up and do everything you can to make sure they never have to be a part of what we were."

Sora's words seal Syobai's decision.

---

He tries calling Mikado to tell him he's coming home for an hour, and gets absolutely no response. A part of Syobai is worried, desperately hoping Mikado didn't do something stupid and end up hurting himself, and wants to get home as soon as he can, but...

The other part of him feels like if he just shows up at home with no warning, it'll only make the situation that much worse.

So he calls, and calls, and calls, and gets sent to voicemail over and over, until finally, there's an answer.

"Fucking Syobai Hashimoto," a voice that is decidedly not Mikado's comes through the speaker. "I ought to skin you alive and wear you like a fur coat. How dare you."

Syobai sighs and frowns, rubs a hand over his face. "Hello, Nikei."

"Don't you hello, Nikei me!" The furious man spits over the phone. "Ever since Mikado told me you two were a thing, I've been looking for a reason to shoot you and make Why Syobai Hashimoto's Death Should be Celebrated as a National Holiday an article on the front page news for a month straight! Now I finally get a reason and I can't even do it because Mikado wants his kids to know their scumbag father!"

Syobai pauses. "... he wants me to come back?"

"I want you to come back, too," Nikei starts to say. "So I can beat you to death with a baseball bat." It sounds like he wants to say more, but then Syobai hears a very quiet, muffled voice in the background. It has to be Mikado. He strains to hear, but it's no use, because the phone doesn't pick up exactly what he's saying. A few seconds later, though, he hears Nikei give a heavy sigh.

"Alright, fine. Mikado wants to hear you out, so I won't be here when you get back, sadly," Nikei mutters. "But I can be there in ten minutes tops if he calls me back, and I'd love to see you try to outrun my bullets."

"Point taken." Syobai closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. "Tell him to leave the door unlocked. I'm coming home."

---

It takes a little under an hour for Syobai to get home. He has to walk all the way there, after all, and he's already tired, but he pushes through. By the time he makes it to the driveway, it feels like his legs are about to fall off.

Then he gets to the front door, puts his hand on the doorknob, and hesitates. It's like all of the exhaustion evaporates, replaced by pure adrenaline and the urge to turn around and start running again.

No. He's made up his mind. Syobai closes his eyes, the mental image of Mikado laughing brightly in his arms appearing to him with no trouble at all, without him even needing to think about it.

God. All the things he would do to make that smile come back to Mikado's face. All the things he would do to forget the look of heartbreak he saw for just a split second when they were standing in the living room.

He turns the doorknob and walks inside the empty living room. His feet land in the same place they were, and he lets the door close behind him as he takes a few shallow breaths. The nagging little voice in the back of his head says you should've ended this a long time ago, Hashimoto. You always knew you'd never be man enough for him, to protect him, to care for him. You're just a coward.

Syobai ignores it, pushes through the pain and walks over to the door of the bedroom he and Mikado have been sharing. Technically, it's Syobai's room, because this is his house, but his sheets smell like Mikado, and it's his and Mikado's clothes on the floor in that room, and there's a picture of both of them hanging on the wall.

Syobai bites his lip so hard he tastes blood, then knocks three times on the door. He contemplates saying something to announce his presence, but finds it better to keep his mouth shut for right now.

At least, until the door opens up, and it's Mikado standing before him, with no mask, his face clearly streaked and stained with tears. Syobai forces himself to look at his face, look him in the eyes, because Mikado deserves that, at least. He deserves so much more than what Syobai's given him.

Neither of them really knows what to say at first. Then Syobai takes a shuddering, shallow breath.

"I'm sorry, for what I said," Syobai finally says. "I said "I can't." That was a lie. I - I can, I just... didn't want to face it."

"I really hope you didn't come all the way here just to say I'm sorry and expect me to forgive you," Mikado says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Syobai shakes his head. "I'm not asking you to forgive me right now," he murmurs. "I just want you to hear me out. Then you can do whatever you want. I swear. Please."

Mikado bites his lip and looks down at the floor, contemplating. "Fine. But I'm not doing this for you."

"That's okay." Syobai closes his eyes for a moment, then looks back evenly at Mikado as he slowly gets to his knees, now looking up at him. Mikado doesn't hide the look of shock on his face as Syobai starts talking.

"Listen. I'm not gonna make excuses. I'm a coward, and I'm a fool. I broke your heart. When things go beyond my intentions, I try to own up to them. Today I ran away instead." He swallows heavily, watches as Mikado shuts his eyes tight. "I - until you told me this morning, I was a man with nothing to lose. Nobody but myself. Then I went from that, to having everything to lose in two words. All my life, I never cared about what happened to anybody but myself. I didn't give a shit. And now..." He looks at Mikado's stomach, where he's resting one of his gloved hands, as though he isn't even thinking about it.

"I realized no matter how far I ran, or for how long, I'd never be able to forget that. I couldn't change it. I can't go back in time and stop what happened." Syobai sighs. Mikado's hands tremble. "The more I thought about it, the more I realized: I don't want to stop what happened. I don't want these kids to not exist."

"Then why did you run away? Why'd you leave me?" Mikado chokes out.

There's no turning back now. Syobai looks at Mikado right in the eyes, grey meeting pale brown, Syobai finally ready to say the words that could make or break him.

"Because I love you, Mikado Sannoji," Syobai says, clearly, sincerely, the only words that have ever come from his mouth with complete purity. "I love you, and it's real and it's raw and it scares the living hell out of me, because I didn't think I could until you walked into my life." He reaches out, fully ready for Mikado to push him away. Instead, he's pleasantly surprised when his cold hands are wrapped in Mikado's warm ones. He hasn't looked away from him, not for a moment, watching as more tears spill down Mikado's face despite him trying to fight them. "I got through life by putting up paywalls, literally, and I knew no person in their right mind would ever wanna get past them." He gives a little laugh. "I didn't count on you, coming in and blowing holes through them."

"Hey, I only blew a hole in a wall once, and that was an accident," Mikado laughs and cries at the same time, his body trembling. By now, Syobai's shaking too, but he's still fighting his own tears.

"Well, you sure got rid of mine," Syobai says. He lifts one of his hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles. "To be honest, I'm still scared. I don't know what I'm doing, not with you, not with the kids we made, not with my life, but I do know one thing: I wanna figure it out with you, and nobody else."

His voice cracks. Syobai swallows heavily, one last ditch-effort attempt at holding back his emotions.

"Will you let me stay here, right here, by your side?" Syobai asks, voice strained. "Will you let me become the man you deserve?" He sniffs, his last words coming in a quiet sob:

"Will you let me be a father?"

Mikado nods, squeezes Syobai's hands, his decision made as soon as he sees the tears -- so very real, undeniable evidence of Syobai bearing his soul to Mikado for the first time -- coming down his face like rain.

"Yeah. Yes, let's do it," Mikado whispers. "Oh, my God. We're gonna be fathers."

Syobai leans forward a little, rests his head against Mikado's belly, presses their still interlocked hands against the small, barely-noticeable swell, evidence that their children are safe, growing, and healthy. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to, as he rolls up the bottom of Mikado's shirt and kisses his skin, so gently he's afraid he imagined it at first.

Syobai Hashimoto doesn't so much fall in love with Mikado Sannoji; instead, rather, he stumbles into it, clumsy and foolish and with no grace at all. But he falls in love with their little ones in a split second, a moment in time he'll never forget.

[artificialqueens]

Everybody’s Talking About Jamie (Biadore) - Lemonade

Summary: Danny and Ivy surprise Roy days before opening night. Roy confides in Danny about his anxieties.

AN: Thank you to the three anons who’s requests inspired this fic!! I’m really happy with how it turned out! Usually I prefer to write Roy and Danny a bit older and married when they have Ivy, but the request was cute so I figured why not! Just a warning this is a lot longer than my recent fics.

Ivy and Danny surprising Bianca at opening night of everyone’s talking about Jamie.

Fancy writing a fic about Adore comforting Bianca who has pre show nerves before Jamie (it’s usually the other way round & I think you write about their emotions so well)..with some smut as well

Lemonade please could you write some smut/some soft angst with Roy being upset and needing comfort

TWs for the smut included: Casual biting/scratching/hair pulling

Danny ❤️

I have a surprise for you

Danny ❤️

It should be at your door in 10 min :)

Roy glanced at his phone while going over lines. He cracked a smile seeing the messages were from Danny. It was a moment of relief from the stress and anxiety Roy had been feeling days before opening night.  

Husband 🌸💛💍💕

I wish you could be at my door in 10 minutes

Roy tossed his phone across the bed once he texted Danny back. He continued studying his lines. The biggest fear he had was blanking on that stage in front of all those people with all their expectations of him.

A knock on the door broke his concentration. As appreciative as Roy was of Danny’s support, he wished Danny would have waited until opening night to have flowers sent to him. Roy huffed in frustration before getting up. He grabbed his wallet to tip whoever had brought the flowers to his room.

When he opened the door nobody was there. Great, a prank was the last thing he needed. He cursed under his breath, ready to slam the door shut before a small voice spoke up, “Hi, Daddy!” The wallet slipped out of Roy’s fingers. He’d recognize that voice from miles away.

All the worry washed from Roy’s face, replaced by a beautiful, bright smile. “Hi, my sweet girl.” He scooped Ivy up in his arms, slinging her across his hip. “What are you doing in England, Ivy?” He joked with his daughter.

“I’m here to see you!” The child excitedly replied, beaming up at her dad. She grabbed his face with both of her hands. “Kiss!” Ivy demanded.

Roy gave her a peck on the lips. “You get more like your father everyday.”

“I like Dad,” Ivy said.

Roy chuckled at her, “I’m glad you like Dad. I like him too.” Roy glanced in the hallway for any sign of Danny. “Do you know where your dad is?”

He had hidden behind a stray service cart. “Surprise!” Danny yelled as he jumped up from behind it. The trick tickled Ivy, her small hands clapping frantically.

Roy put their daughter down so he could hug Danny. He buried his face in Danny’s neck, his hand instinctively going to Danny’s hair, combing through the long locks. Roy held on to Danny for as long as Danny allowed it. He felt like he was home, like he could breath for once. In the moment he was safe and calm; Ridden of any stress from the past month. Ivy decided to join in, hugging both of her dad’s legs. Roy reached down to rub her back.

It was more than obvious to Danny that Roy wasn’t okay. They always missed each other, but Danny could feel something different in their hug; See something different in Roy’s expression. When he pulled away, Danny sent Ivy into another room. “Why don’t you go check out how comfy Daddy’s bed is?” Danny enticed Ivy. She loved stealing her dads’ bed. There have been more than a few nights where Roy and Danny had to carry her back to her own because she had fallen asleep in theirs.

Danny stepped closer to Roy. “Hey—,”

He wasn’t able to speak as Roy crashed his lips against his. He slipped his tongue into Danny’s mouth, moaning when he got a taste of him. Roy backed Danny against the now closed door. He kissed him passionately, a hand resting under Danny’s shirt. Danny whimpered as Roy bit his lip. The younger couldn’t help but to raise his hips against Roy’s. “Missed you,” Danny huffed.

Roy sucked on Danny’s bottom lip before breaking the kiss. “I miss you too,” he kissed Danny’s lips again. “I missed you so much,” and again. Roy finally let Danny breath. “Sorry. I just needed to do that before Ivy came back.”

Danny smirked at him, “Don’t be sorry.” Danny wrapped his arms around Roy’s neck while Roy’s arms wrapped around Danny’s waist. “That was hot.” Now Danny was the one stealing kisses from Roy.

“Your hair’s getting long,” Roy said fondly as he ran his fingers through it. “You look so pretty.” The compliment made Danny glow. His hair always being a huge part of his identity.

As much as he hated breaking a sweet moment, Danny couldn’t ignore it. “You look stressed,” he pouted. “Baby, are—“

“The bed is really comfy, Dad!” Ivy yelled from the bedroom. Danny’s head dropped to Roy’s shoulder in a gesture of defeat. Roy chuckled. He was almost thankful for the interruption. Roy wouldn’t hide anything from Danny, but he hated the weakness he felt whenever it came to being vulnerable.  

Danny cupped Roy’s cheek. “I’m gonna go get Ivy ready for bed then we’re gonna talk, yeah?” Danny sought out Roy’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Roy answered. “I’ll just be here. Doing this,” he waved his ‘Everybody’s talking about Jamie’ script before plopping down on the couch with it.

Danny had their luggage sent up to Roy’s room a few minutes after they arrived. He got Ivy into her pajamas, tucking her into Roy’s bed. “She’s so tired,” Danny said as he joined Roy on the couch.

“It’s a hard flight,” Roy commented. His eyes never leaving his Jamie script.

Danny sighed. “When are you gonna realize that doesn’t work with me?” He took the script right out Roy’s hands, placing it on the coffee table. He slid Roy’s glasses off of his face. “Roy,” Danny reached out to take Roy’s hand into his own, “What’s going on?”

Roy coughed. Danny saw in his face that the wheels in his mind were turning. “Don’t lie to me.” It wasn’t that Roy would ever lie to Danny. Maybe he would downplay things for Danny’s sake; He never wanted to put the burden of worrying about him on Danny’s shoulders.

Roy decided to tell Danny everything. As much as his instinct was to protect, he knew there wasn’t much to a relationship if he wouldn’t be open and honest with his partner. “Where do you want me to start?” Roy sounded solemn, though Danny was sure he was trying to—and failed at making a joke of his own pain.

“Anywhere,” Danny answered simply, giving Roy’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Roy’s lips curved into a weak smile for a second or two. He huffed, his thumb ran over the back of Danny’s hand to distract himself as he started. “This is all getting to be a lot,” Roy’s voice was quiet, meeker than Danny had ever heard it. “I don’t wanna be out here for months on end without my family. I don’t even recognize you guys when I see you anymore, that’s how long I’m away at a time. I’m scared to death of what that’s doing to Ivy, to you and I. I hate leaving you to take care of her by yourself. We decided to have her, I should be there every single day with you guys. I want to be there everyday. The fact that I still have a month of this play left, then months of tour after…,” Roy looked off into the distance; The expression on his face as if he saw a monster. He just shook his head, not having the energy to finish his statement.

Danny scooted closer to Roy. “Honey, that’s just for now. You’re only working like this because Kurt’s coming, it won’t be forever. Ivy understands what we do. She understands we need to work to be able to take of her and her brother.” Danny lifted Roy’s chin so he would look at him, “And I appreciate what you’re doing more than I can even tell you. Roy, you’re working yourself to death for our family. I promise you I’ll never let that get between us. It never has, and it never will. I’m okay with Ivy. You do the same thing whenever I’m touring. We’re a team. Sometimes one of us has to lean on the other a little more, that’s perfectly normal,” Danny caressed his cheek. “All you have to do is think about when Kurt gets here; How all this hard work now is making sure that we can stay at home with him and Ivy when he‘s born.”

Roy nodded his head, he sucked back a few tears. Danny could be so wise sometimes it left Roy speechless; This being one of those times. All Roy could say is, “You’re right. You’re right.” He took a breath. “It just gets so overwhelming.”

Danny kissed the back of Roy’s hand, “I know it does, Willow. I’m always here to get you through it.”

“There’s something else,” Roy spoke up. “This show is so much more grueling than I’m used to. I can’t remember steps, I can’t remember lines, I can’t remember lyrics. I see myself getting on that stage and bombing. What is everyone gonna say if I fuck up? Me? The person who has something to say about everyone. If I pull a Valentina I might as well bury my head in the sand and never come back up.”

Danny scoffed. Roy laced his eyebrows together at his reaction. “Now you’re just being dramatic. Roy, you can do this shit in your sleep. Hello, Hurricane Bianca? All of season six? You played Angel in Rent when you were a baby, you asshole! You’ll be fine. This is your nerves being little bitches. You just need to relax.” Danny smirked at him. He ran his hand up Roy’s thigh, his fingers tightening around Roy’s bulge. “Can I help you relax?”

Roy let out a shaky breath. Normally, he didn’t allow himself any rest or relaxation. He’d push Danny away. Tell him he needed to concentrate, but right now Danny’s company seemed like exactly what Roy needed. “You know what, yeah. That sounds perfect.”

Danny visibly perked up. “Really? You’re usually not into it.”

Roy shrugged his shoulders. “I miss you. I need you more than I need to read that stupid script right now.”

The desire in Roy’s voice made Danny’s eyes go dark. He guided Roy to lay back while he took his position between Roy’s legs. Each hand slid up Roy’s thighs. “Are you gonna let me take care of you?” Danny was like a siren. He opened his mouth and turned you to putty. ”Because I wanna give you everything,” he licked his lips, that familiar devious tint in his eyes.

Roy swallowed hard, nodding at Danny. Danny just smiled, more than giddy with himself. He climbed off the couch, Roy watched him in confusion. “Sit up,” Danny directed. His lover obeyed without question. Danny always loved how Roy would do whatever he said with no hesitation. He was fond of the trust between them.

Danny mounted Roy. He started grinding his crotch down against Roy’s, making the man groan. Roy’s hand rested on the small of Danny’s back, his fingers pressing into Danny’s flesh as Danny ground on top of him. “I miss you too,” Danny returned Roy’s words from before, leaning in to catch his lips in a series of soft kiss. Danny liked to build Roy up slowly before pushing him over the edge.

For a while they just kissed. Tongues eventually found their way into mouths. Hands were groping and pulling at hair. They had become hard from their grinding. Danny nibbled at Roy’s bottom lip, sucking and tugging at it. His eyes flicked up at Roy when he let his lip go from between his teeth. The redness left behind made Danny’s heart skip a beat.

Danny moved closer to attach his lips to Roy’s jawline. He kissed a path up the sharp bone, pressing a sloppy kiss behind Roy’s ear that made Roy shiver. “Undress me,” Danny whispered in his ear. The words shot straight to Roy’s cock. He shifted at how tight his pants were becoming.

Roy lifted Danny’s shirt over his head to reveal a chain bra. Roy vividly remembered telling Danny how hot he thought it was when he first saw Danny wear it for a photoshoot. He always promised Roy he would wear it for him one day.

“So how’d you sneak this pass TSA?” Roy teased.

“I put it on in the bathroom after I got Ivy to bed, duh,” Danny threw it right back at him. Roy smiled, shaking his head at his fiancé. He continued to undress him, his fingers just getting Danny’s jeans unbuttoned before Danny turned around in his lap. He laid back against him, his head thrown back against Roy’s shoulder. Danny took Roy’s hands, guiding them to his abdomen. He let them rest there for a moment, allowing Roy to feel how just his touch had Danny’s muscles jumping.

He slowly guided them up his stomach, triggering a stream of quiet moans being let out right into Roy’s ear. His eyes nearly rolled back at the sound. Danny brought Roy’s hands up to his chest. There was a stark contrast between the cold chain and Danny’s supple nipples. Danny moved Roy’s hands in a circular motion, getting him to massage his breasts. Danny choked at the intimacy of it.

His eyes were closed. A look of bliss on Danny’s face convinced Roy to continue the ministrations on his own. He continued to grope at one of Danny’s pecks while the other hand gently brushed his nipple. The younger whimpered, his body pushing into Roy’s. “You‘re the most amazing thing in the world,” Roy praised his lover.

Danny had gotten carried away; Allowed too much of the attention to be on himself. It was so easy with Roy. Roy was an effortless lover when it came to Danny. He knew every weakness and every button that made Danny go wild—But this was about Roy. Danny knew he’d have to watch Roy, who was generous to fault in bed.

Danny removed Roy’s hands from his body. He slid down to the floor, arching his back so his perfectly round ass was in Roy’s face. Danny was no rookie himself. He had Roy unbutton his pants so they would fall around his hips when he did this, revealing a lace thong he was wearing under them.

Roy watched in awe. His mouth dry and hanging wide open. Danny managed to gracefully roll onto his knees. He ran his hands up his torso then through his hair. As Danny stood his pants fell to a pool around his ankles that he easily stepped out of before kicking to the side. His eyes locked with Roy’s as he started to sway his hips. Roy had to squeeze his legs shut at the pressure he felt building. He could already feel precum wetting his boxers.

There were two little bow ties on each side of Danny’s underwear. He started to play with one until it came undone, then the other side until the same thing happened. The underwear fell to the ground as well. Roy was so enthralled that he let out a hardy moan at the sight of Danny’s cock.

While Roy’s eyes didn’t know whether to focus on his fiancé’s gorgeous dick or his beautiful face, Danny didn’t stop looking directly into his eyes. He took his cock into his own hand, lightly jerking it as he approached Roy. It didn’t take much to get Danny to start leaking. He mounted Roy again, swiping the precum from his head then slipping his fingers into Roy’s mouth.

Roy happily sucked them dry, staring at Danny the entire time. Danny was so pleased with himself. Any distress Roy had been feeling had to be the furthest thing from his mind right now. “Are you ready, my love?” Danny asked with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I am,” Roy said so eagerly it made Danny giggle.

Danny pressed his lips to Roy’s tenderly. When he broke away, he told him to lie down. They were back in the position they started in, except this time with a very naked Danny—Save for the bra he kept on for Roy’s enjoyment.

He didn’t waste much time getting Roy out of his pants and boxers. The man sighed at the relief of his boner no longer being constrained. Danny looked up at Roy for one more sign of consent, taking it in the form of a happy nod.

He ran his tongue up the underside of Roy’s cock. Roy letting out a satisfied groan. Danny took Roy into his hand, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses all the way up his shaft to the head. He made sure to watch Roy’s face as he teasingly licked his tip just once. Roy squirmed for more. Danny lazily licked at his slit once or twice at a time, enjoying all the whining he wasn’t used to hearing from Roy.

“You’re fucking hot,” Danny mumbled as his mouth gave attention Roy’s inner thighs. He sucked, bit, and kissed at them while his hand stroked Roy’s cock with a firm grip. Roy bucked into Danny’s fist. His senses going crazy at finally being touched again.

Danny took one last bite at Roy’s thigh before giving Roy what he was so desperately waiting for. Danny closed his mouth around Roy’s cockhead. He focused on lavishing it with attention. His tongue swirled all over him, hips lips sucked at the sensitive area. Roy had to stop his hips from slamming into Danny’s mouth. Danny slipped a hand between Roy’s legs to cup his balls, massaging and squeezing them just how Roy always loved.

Roy choked. His hands were now in Danny’s hair, tangling in and tugging at the brunette tresses. “Please, Danny,” Roy whimpered. In that moment Danny knew Roy was gone. He almost never begged, no matter how relentlessly Danny teased him.

Thankfully for Roy, Danny was in the mood to please, not tease. He deepthroated Roy’s cock, allowing him to hit the back of his throat. A deep, loud moan escaped from the pit of Roy’s stomach as Danny started swallowing around him. “Fuck, Danny, Baby,” He sputtered as Danny sucked him off.

Danny kept Roy down his throat for as long as he could. He licked every inch of Roy’s thick cock that his tongue could reach. He moaned around him, sending vibrations through Roy’s body and goosebumps flaring on his skin.

A string of spit followed when Danny had to release Roy for air. He gagged for a moment, still jerking Roy off as he did so. Roy’s hands were affectionately running through Danny’s hair. “You okay?”

Danny nodded his head, not sure he could rely on his voice to give an answer.

“Don’t push yourself too much,” Roy said. Danny nodded again. He had seemed to be taking a breather, lazily stroking Roy’s cock while he caught his breath.

“There’s water on the coffee table. It’s probably a bit warm, but—“ Danny reached for the glass as soon as Roy said water. He chugged half of it, passing the rest of it to Roy who downed it just as quickly.

It was as if they didn’t miss a beat once their break was done with. Danny had taken Roy’s dick back into his mouth, this time bobbing his head up and down Roy’s length. Roy moaned louder with every pass of Danny’s warm mouth. His breathing growing heavier as sweat starting dripping down his forehead.

Danny looked up pleased as he could be at the sight. He smirked around Roy before deciding to deepthroat him again. “Oh my God, Danny,” the words came through gritted teeth. Roy’s thighs began to quiver as Danny kept him in for as long as possible.

While Roy was still in his mouth, Danny dragged his nails lightly over Roy’s skin. Faint pink scratches painted his stomach and thighs. Roy’s body twisted into Danny’s touch, constantly begging him for more.

Danny began bobbing his head again. The unexpected change made Roy’s body jolt. While Danny used one hand to dig his nails into Roy’s thigh, the other slipped under his shirt to twist his nipple. The combination made Roy choke.

Roy could feel himself getting close. Danny must have tasted the precum on his tongue as he starting jerking Roy as he sucked him off. His nails left indentations in the delicate flesh of Roy’s inner thigh, only letting up so he could focus them on teasing Roy’s balls.

Roy was completely wanton for Danny. His legs were spread wide open. His body bending into and thrashing at every sensation Danny was making him feel. His head was throw back, mouth wide open while gorgeous sounds peppered with grunts of Danny’s name tumbled from his bite-swollen lips.

Danny slowly pulled Roy out of his mouth, his plump lips gliding up Roy’s length sent his lover to heaven. He didn’t allow Roy time to miss the feeling of his mouth as he started massaging Roy’s head. He used his thumb to rub circles over the sensitive area.

Danny leaked onto the couch cushions as he watched Roy approach his orgasm. The man was a beautiful mess of sweat and whimpers. He must have lost control of his body long ago as it seemed to be acting on it’s own accord. In addition to his thumb massaging the tip, Danny allowed his tongue the swipe at Roy’s slit. Roy’s back arched, his stomach muscles twitching.

Roy’s precum dripped down Danny’s hand. He had no question that Roy would be cumming soon. Just the thought made Danny’s neglected cock ache more than it already did. His free hand travelled between his legs, only stopping when he felt a sharp yank on his hair that made him moan.

Danny looked up to see Roy staring at him with such a hunger it made Danny whimper. Roy pulled on Danny’s hair harshly, forcing Danny to crawl over his body. Roy was only satisfied when their lips were brushing over each other’s. Roy kissed Danny sweetly, a total contrast to the hand still wrapped tightly in Danny’s hair.  

“You’re beautiful,” Roy said between kisses. “I need you, angel,” he pulled Danny’s head back by his hair. “Can I have you?”

Danny smirked, “I thought you’d never ask.” Danny had prepared just in case. He was thankful a flight of starvation wasn’t put to waste—Not that they ever had anything he could eat anyway. “I got lube in my suitcase,” he said, prompting Roy to let his hair go so he could get it. Danny’s legs wobbled when he first stood. He had to grab the arm of the couch for balance. Roy made a mental note not to try to get up anytime soon.

Thankfully Danny’s suitcases were still sat at the door. He didn’t have the will to carry his own luggage into the bedroom once he carried Ivy’s.

Danny pounced on Roy as soon as he found the lube at the bottom of his suitcase. Their lips smacked together, their bodies pressed against each other—Which reminded Danny—He pulled Roy’s shirt over his head. The tank top drenched in Roy’s sweat now joined Danny’s clothing on the floor. Danny let his hands run wild over Roy’s body. He missed touching him so much.

Roy leaned forward to suck on Danny’s nipples through the opening in his bra. His hands moved down to Danny’s ass, groping at his full cheeks. “Can I mark you?” Roy asked, detaching himself from Danny’s skin to seek out an answer.

“Yes,” Danny whined breathily. Roy’s mouth was back on him a second later, sucking hickeys into his chest. While Roy left a trail of love bites from Danny’s nipple to his neck, his fingers slipped between Danny’s asscheeks. The combination of Roy’s mouth suckling his neck while his fingers teased his hole made Danny’s eyes roll into the back of his skull. “Fuck me,” Danny drawled out as his head fell back. “God, Roy, fuck me.”

Asking twice wasn’t necessary. Roy had Danny on all fours before Danny even processed how he got into the position. Roy coated his fingers with lube, slipping two inside of Danny right off the bat. “Is that okay?” Roy asked as he scissored them inside of him.

“We can—“ Danny’s sentence broke off into a moan. “We can skip this. Roy, just take me.”

Roy was a bit hesitant. He rubbed Danny’s lower back soothingly. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Roy took Danny’s word for it. Danny knew his own limits better than anyone. “You tell me if you change your mind,” Roy said as he slicked his cock with lube. The feeling of his hand on himself made him hiss. He knew he wouldn’t be lasting long at all. He was already dangerously close when Danny was stroking his dick.

Roy pressed the head of his cock against Danny’s hole, pouring more lube directly onto Danny just to be safe. Roy gently pushed into Danny. The pressure of his lovers tight asshole surrounding him had Roy seeing stars. His fingers dig into Danny’s hips as he pushed further inside, his breathing growing heavy again.

Danny wasn’t as reserved as Roy. He let out a high pitched moan as soon as Roy was halfway in. Just like Roy, Danny knew he wouldn’t last long. He felt like he could’ve finished without so much as a touch as long as Roy was getting off.

Roy started thrusting leisurely. Danny whined and whimpered beneath him. Roy bit his lip to compose himself, his fingers digging harder into Danny’s pale skin.  

Roy picked up the pace once he felt confident that Danny was adjusted to his size. A loud slapping noise filled the room as Danny’s ass bounced against Roy’s V-line. Roy ran his hands over Danny’s back as he pounded away at him, low moans tumbling from his lips.

Danny did his best to keep up with Roy. He threw his ass back, meeting Roy half way as they fucked. On a random thrust Roy hit Danny’s prostate. His favorite sound had to be that high pitched whine Danny let out without fail every time. Roy focused his thrusts on that spot, hitting deeper inside of Danny every few passes. “Oh my god,” Danny’s voice was nothing but a barely audible whimper.

As Roy got closer his thrusts got wilder. His hands moved from Danny’s hips to his shoulders, using the leverage to thrust into Danny as deeply as possible. Danny bottomed out, his legs trembling uncontrollably. Roy let Danny’s shoulder’s go, resulting in Danny collapsing against the cushions. He didn’t have enough strength to hold himself up.

Roy lowered himself so that his chest was pressed against Danny’s back. The lovers moaned in unison as Roy fucked into him. Roy positioned his legs in a way that Danny would have to spread his a bit more, that change allowed Roy even better access to Danny—Who’s vision was starting to fade.

Roy peppered open mouth kisses to Danny’s cheek. Half of his face was pressed into the couch, his mouth wide open in a pant while his skin blushed pinker and pinker by the second. Roy sped up his thrusting, Danny’s moaning was nothing but a strangled noise at this point.

Roy teetered on the edge of his own release. His bit into his bottom lip to stave off his orgasm. “Danny,” Roy’s voice was destroyed and his tone desperate. “Can you kneel?”

Danny groaned in a way that let Roy know he couldn’t. Roy took a deep breath, mustering all the strength he had left in his body. Roy sat up, grabbing a fist full of Danny’s hair he pulled his lover up as well. Danny whimpered, “I’m gonna fall.”

“I got you, angel. Lean against me.” Danny did as he was told, leaning his entire body weight against Roy. Roy wrapped an arm around Danny’s stomach to keep him steady. Danny threw his arm around Roy’s neck for extra support.

Danny cried out when Roy started thrusting again, the surprise of Roy’s hand stroking his dick catching him off guard. Roy chased his own release, sure that Danny wouldn’t be too far behind him. “Can you cum with me, angel?”

“Mhm,” Danny whined, his arm tightening around Roy’s neck as he felt his orgasm approaching. Danny tried to hold himself off, but his body just couldn’t do it. “I’m gonna cum,” he squeaked out, covering Roy’s hand in streaks of it as he climaxed. Danny’s body stiffened against Roy’s, his thighs turning to jelly as they trembled. The pulsing of his asshole, and a few more thrusts were all Roy needed to reach his release as well.

Roy moaned Danny’s name as he shot his load inside of Danny’s hole. Danny was going limp in Roy’s arms as he started to come down. Roy’s legs shook with his orgasm; Both factors causing Roy to fall backwards with Danny onto the couch.

Thankfully they didn’t hurt themselves. “Do you need me to move?” Danny’s voice was something of a raspy whisper as he asked Roy, afraid he might be crushing him.

“It’s fine,” Roy replied, sounding ravaged and exhausted. Danny always felt a smugness when it was obvious in his lovers voice that he had just been fucked. Roy wrapped his arms around Danny’s body. “I don’t wanna move at all.”

“Me either,” Danny agreed.

They eventually maneuvered themselves to their sides so both could fit on the couch while they cuddled. “I’m glad you guys came to visit,” Roy said as he peppered kisses to Danny’s bare back.

“We missed you, babe. Ivy wanted to see you on your opening night.”

“I missed you guys, too. If you’re up for it we can take her to rehearsals. You both can watch if you want.”

Danny smiled at how shyly Roy asked. “Of course I’m up for it. I’m sure Ivy’ll wanna go too.”

Roy nuzzled Danny’s back. He reached over his fiancé to grab the throw blanket that decorated the couch, pulling it over them in case Ivy came looking for them in the morning.

“I can’t believe she stole our bed again,” Danny said.

“You know we can just get dressed and go sleep in there, right?”

“Too much moving,” Danny complained. He settled in Roy’s embrace, squishing as close to him as possible. “Night, Willow,” Danny yawned. “I love you.”

“Night,” Roy pressed a final kiss to Danny’s shoulder. “I love you.”

[dragon-temeraire]

Your tags on the bed sharing prompts suggesting that they all go in one fic gave me a mighty need, if youre feeling it, I would love to see a TW take on it? Whichever ship you feel most moved to do?

I just needed a little encouragement to write this, so thank you! I had this half-written in my head as sterek, so I hope that’s cool! (On AO3)

“I still don’t know why we had to have the pack vacation inthe middle of nowhere,” Stiles says, staring up dubiously at the cabin. Sure,it’s two stories tall and has a balcony, but it still looks pretty rustic.

“It has all the amenities,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes athim. “And besides, it’s werewolf friendly.”

Stiles had heard that phrase thrown around many times duringthe discussion and planning of this trip, but he’s still not sure what itmeans. “What, exactly, is werewolf friendly?”

“Lots of trails and open spaces to run, and no neighbors formiles and miles,” Lydia says, like it should be obvious. “Also, all the roomsare soundproofed.”

Stiles tries, and fails, not to think about theramifications of that. It’s totallynot fair that most of his friends are going to be getting lucky, while he—thechronically single���has absolutely no one to canoodle with. “Must be nice,” hegrumbles, grabbing his suitcase and backpack out of the trunk. “Where am Ibunking?”

Lydia consults an actual diagram—whichshe won’t let him see—and says, “Upstairs, last door on the right.”

Stiles follows her directions, and walks into the room toonly to find Derek already standing there, his own bags in hand.

“Guess we’re rooming together,” he says, glancing over.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Stiles says, shrugging. He doesn’treally mind. At least Derek is single, too. He’s about to say as much when herealizes Derek’s attention is held by something else. When he follows his gaze,he sees that Derek is staring at the bed.

The only bed.

There are no couches or chairs or really any other sleepingsurface in the room, besides the floor. And Stiles is not sleeping on the floor during his vacation. No way.

Derek is obviously drawing the same conclusions, because hesays, “Clearly the situation calls for us to share.”

“And we can deal with it maturely,” Stiles agrees. “We’readults.” Though he does feel a little prickle of concern at sharing a bed withDerek, who is both very attractive and far more approachable these days. Stilesmight have a little crush on him, but it’s no big deal. Everything will be fine.

He puts his luggage away, then heads back downstairs to findout the plan for the rest of the day. Knowing Lydia, there’s probably an itinerary,or something.

And he has so much fun playing and running around with thepack, he completely forgets about the bed situation. At least until it’sgetting late, and he finds Derek in their room, getting undressed.

“Please don’t sleep in your underwear, you’re making thisway weirder than in has to be,” Stiles blurts, and Derek pauses, already halfwayinto bed.

“You want me to sleep in my jeans?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

Stiles gets kind of caught up in how little Derek’sboxer-briefs leave to the imagination, so there’s a bit of a delay before hemanages to say, “You don’t have any pajamas?”

“Why would I have pajamas?” Derek says, smirking a little.“You should be grateful, I usually sleep nude.”

“Of course you do,” Stiles grumbles. He pointedly lays hisown sleep-pants and oversize shirt on the bed, and Derek rolls his eyes. “Ihave some sweatpants you could borrow?” he adds hopefully.

“I’m good,” Derek says smugly, settling in under the covers.

Stiles makes an annoyed huff, retreats to the bathroom tochange and brush his teeth.

When he’s back and settled into bed, Derek switches off thelamp, and Stiles blinks into the sudden darkness before letting his eyes close.He feels Derek shift a little before stilling, and Stiles lays quietly, willinghimself not to rustle around too much.

Did you go to the bathroom? his mind supplies suddenly. Well, it’dprobably be best to go, just in case. He eases out of bed, pads carefullyacross the room, and slips into the bathroom, closing the door carefully behindhim. When he’s done, he sneaks back to bed and slides under the covers.

He moves carefully, trying to find a comfortable positionwhile staying on his side of the bed, and does his best to relax. But he canfeel the time ticking by as he lays there, not sleeping, and after a long whileof quietly breathing and trying to lull himself into a dream, he sort of feelslike, well…

Better go again. He hateswaking up in the middle of the night with an overfull bladder. And Derekwill probably hate him too, for disturbing his sleep. So, he slowly inches his wayout of bed—

“How many times doyou get up at night to pee?” Derek grumbles. “You should probably see a doctorabout that.”

“There’s nothing wrong, I just have a nervous bladder,”Stiles hisses.

“We’re on vacation. What could you possibly be nervousabout?” Derek asks dryly.

“I’m nervous about being in a bed with you,” Stiles says defensively, then, realizing how that sounds,continues with, “Don’t take it personally, I’ve just never really shared a bedwith anyone.” Not anyone I foundattractive, he adds mentally.

Derek makes a sound that’s probably judgmental, then says,“Well, hurry up. I want to actually get some sleep tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says, slinking off to the bathroomagain.

Derek does seem to get a decent night’s sleep, but Stileshardly does. It’s too weird, trying to sleep next to someone else.

 *

 The next night, Stiles is determined to get some rest.

It’s just hard to get comfortable when half the bed isessentially off-limits. He’s used to being able to sprawl out, and move as muchas he wants, as often as he wants. But now—

“Would you please get comfortable and go the fuck to sleepalready?” Derek snaps.

“It should be obvious that I’m trying,” Stiles snaps back. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, but myshoulders are sore from climbing that tree—”

“And who’s idea was that?” Derek cuts in.

“Mine, but everybody seemed to have fun when I suggestedit,” Stiles says. There had even been a race to the top—Erica had won, butAllison had been right behind her. “Maybe I should just get up and do somestretches,” he ventures, and Derek groans dramatically.

Stiles doesn’t get up, but he does try to squirm into a morecomfortable position. He still can’t get to sleep, though it’s obvious Derek ishaving no trouble, because after a few moments he starts snoring. And Stiles knows it’s a good thing that Derek can fallasleep so easily—he’s pretty sure there have been a lot of times in Derek’slife where he didn’t feel safe enough, and hardly slept at all—but right nowhe’s not feeling too benevolent about it.

“Since when do you snore?” Stiles asks irritably.

He lays there, trying to let himself drift off, but Derek’ssnores are just loud enough to keep waking him up. Stiles is kind of tempted tokick him, but figures he’d hurt his own foot more than he’d hurt Derek. Still,Derek wasn’t snoring last night, so it must be happening now because of theposition he’s in.

“Snoring is bad for you,” Stiles mumbles. “So, I’m gonnahelp.”

He reaches across the bed until he finds Derek’s shoulder,and lightly prods it. Derek shifts a little, but it’s not enough. So, he wedgeshis other hand under Derek’s hip, and gradually pushes. He expects Derek tocome awake and accuse Stiles of trying to shove him out of bed, but he justmakes a snuffling sound and rolls over.

And mercifully, the snoring stops.

It still takes Stiles hours to fall asleep.

 *

 “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Stiles grouses as hewakes up cold again.

He’d finally gotten to sleep at a reasonable time, only tohave Derek steal all the covers not long afterward. This is the third time it’s happened tonight, and unlikethe other times, when Stiles goes to yank some of the blankets back, there’s nogive. Derek’s probably has his claws in them.

“Fine,” he says, probably louder than is polite. “You keepthem.”

He makes his way downstairs to the living room, grabs theblanket off the back of the couch, then makes his way back upstairs, mutteringall the while. He makes sure to cocoon it around himself, trying to limit the possibilityof Derek stealing it, too.

He wakes up in the morning feeling rather overheated, andrealizes Derek has piled every blanket in the house on top of him.

What an asshole.

 *

Stiles is restless and keyed-up, both from the sleepdeprivation and the impromptu pillow fight he, Scott and Isaac had right beforebedtime. And when he gets that way, he absolutely cannot stop talking, especiallyif he has to keep still.

“Stiles, it’s three in the morning,” Derek says dangerously.“Ask me again if pigeons have feelings, I dare you.”

“I mean, they’d have to, right? I’m sure they’re sad thatpeople have abandoned them and don’t want them as pets anymore,” Stiles saysheedlessly. “And I bet you could smell that! We should go to the park and feedpigeons together, and you can tell me how they’re feeling—”

He’s rudely interrupted by a hand covering his mouth. Stileskeeps on making noise, just to prove that he can.

“Stop talking,” Derek says, and Stiles most assuredly does not.

There’s a heavy sigh, and then Derek’s arm is coming aroundhim, dragging him across the bed until he’s on his side, back pressed against Derek’schest.

And it’s certainly nice,but— “If you think this is going to calm me down, I’ll tell you right now thatyou’re wrong,” Stiles says once his mouth is uncovered.

“Shhh,” Derek says, and then his hand is on Stiles’ arm,slowly stroking up and down. The pressure is firm enough not to tickle, butlighter than a massage, and it’s oddly soothing. It only becomes more so whenDerek starts to quietly rumble, a vibration that goes straight from his chestto Stiles’, and seems to calm something inside him.

Stiles would like to make a joke about cats and purring, buthis eyes are sliding closed, and he suddenly has no interest in keeping them open.

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up thenext morning.

Derek’s already gone, but that’s not unusual. He likes toget up before everyone else so he can enjoy the peace and quiet.

Stiles stretches happily, feeling wonderfully well-rested.Derek has some kind of werewolf magic, he’s sure of it.

He’s totally ready to face canoeing or hiking or whatever’splanned for today.

 *

 When Stiles is tired of getting his butt kicked atconnect-four by Boyd, he heads upstairs. He’s a little worn out from all therowing this morning—the pond on the property hadn’t looked large, but it hadtaken ages to get across it—so he’sthinking he’ll maybe take a little nap.

But when he gets there, the bed is already occupied by Derek,who’s propped up on some pillows and reading a book. Emboldened by their sort-ofsnuggling last night, Stiles doesn’t hesitate to crawl right up next to him, restinghis chin on Derek’s chest.

“You going to put me to sleep again tonight?” he asks with agrin. “Because that was pretty awesome.”

To his surprise, Derek flushes and looks away. “I shouldn’thave done that,” he says quietly.

“Why? Is it some secret werewolf power you weren’t supposedto reveal?” Stiles can’t help teasing.

“No, it’s—something werewolves do for their mates. For someonethey’re romantically involved with,” Derek says softly, gaze finally returningto Stiles.

“Oh,” Stiles says. And then he considers: despite the rudecover-hogging and the snoring and the general grumpiness, he still likes Derek.A lot. “Well, what if we were?”

Derek just looks at him for a long moment, and Stileswonders if this isn’t going to go the way he’d hoped. Then Derek’s lips areagainst his, and he makes a surprised, pleased sound at the contact.

And he kisses Derek back.

 *

 He sleeps wonderfully that night, comfortingly held in Derek’sarms.

Turns out sharing a bed isn’t so bad after all. 

[spideyxchelle]

i’ve been working on this fic forever and a day. and so now its all done. here is part 2 of the world war ii spideychelle headcanon/fic. before any of you ask me in my inbox: no. there will not be more. this is it. this is how it ends. 

tw: violence. depression. PTSD. violence. really, really bad violence. 

here is the music i wrote to, in case you were curious. 

the boat ride over is long. and rocky. the boys he’s put with in his squad range in age but all of them looked terrified. a world war is not like fighting just the Japanese. 

peter looks at each of the faces and doesn’t bother to try and learn them. chances are most of these boys aren’t going home. himself included.

he takes out the picture of MJ he has hidden in a pocket he sowed into his uniform. its still perfect. he imagines that in a few months it will be bent and dirty and maybe even lost. but for now, its still MJ. 

a man probably fifteen years his senior plops down next to peter and he hides the picture. he doesn’t need anyone to know about MJ. he’s not sure what kind of guys are in his squad. racists look like normal people, after all. 

the older man offers peter his flask and peter takes a swig. and coughs. its strong. the older man laughs and claps peter on the back, “you ever thrown one back before, kid?” peter sputters out, “no, sir.” “captain actually. captain rogers.” “peter parker, captain.” “pleasure to meet you,” captain rogers gestures to the picture peter just hid, “that your sweetheart?” peter nods. and captain rogers smiles, “good. it’s nice to have someone back home. makes this easier.” “how can anything make this easier?” 

captain rogers stands and adjusts his uniform, “some of these boys don’t have much to go home to...and so they’re not gonna fight like hell to get back. but you will.” “yes, sir.” 

and peter writes off the weird interaction with captain rogers as a one time thing but when they touch down in the UK, he learns why captain rogers approached him. he’s the head of peter’s squad. and he was getting to know each of the boys on the boat over. its weirdly sweet. and makes peter long for his aunt. and his bed. and his MJ. 

he wants them even more when training starts. bomb threats happen all the time in London. its a warzone. and it rains. and there isn’t really a barrack for them to sleep in. everyone and everything is exposed and out in the open. 

at night, he hears the sirens of a bomb threat and he and his unit all huddle in the bomb shelters under ground and pray they don’t die before they make it to the front. and as the world above him shakes and explodes he looks at that picture of MJ. 

he knows he’s closed off, he knows that the other men in his unit are looking to create a family between them. but peter has lost family before. and the chances of him losing the men in his unit are high. and he can’t get invested. losing his parents and ben was devastating. 

but this plan doesn’t hold. it can’t. not when he meets little Miles Morales. he’s 15, not much younger than peter, but young enough that it makes everybody pause. because the enlistment age is 18. how he got in, whatever paperwork he lied on, makes everyone in their troop very, very nervous and equally protective of Miles. he shouldn’t even be here, peter argues with captain rogers one night. 

Steve stands and gets in peter’s face, “what would you have me do? waste resources and time sending him home, Queens?” “you’re sending a 15 year old kid out to die, Brooklyn.” “if i had another choice do you think i wouldn’t have already taken it? this city is shut down. we’re heading out in three days. i’m not gonna leave him in a warzone unprotected.” “no, you’ll just march him into a warzone instead.” “he’ll have us watching his back. he’ll have a gun.” “yea! because some other german bastard has a gun of his own pointed at that kid!!” “you questioning my command, parker?” “i’m questioning your morality, captain.” 

rogers tent goes quiet. and the two men stare at each other. rage flitting across each of their features. steve takes a deep breath and speaks low, “you question my command again, parker, and we’re gonna have problems. do you understand me, solider?” peter grits his teeth, “yes, sir.” 

he throws the flaps of the tent open and goes straight to Miles’ bunk. he knocks him off of the bunk and glares at him. eye-to-eye. “you listen to me, Morales. you’re not dying on me. i won’t have that on my conscious. you hear?” Miles nods. “and if i say duck, you duck. if i say run. you run. if i say jump up and down and do the fucking conga you do that. you hear?” Miles nods. peter sighs and claps him on the shoulder, “good.” 

and with Miles under peter’s wing, he’s not a part of the troop. a band of brothers. a group of scared kids with riffles in their hands fighting not for their country, but for the people they’ve left behind that they love back home. 

Miles tells peter about his uncle. they’re close from what he can tell. and Miles talks a lot. as they begin the journey to france Miles nervously chatters seemingly all day and all night. Clint, a superior officer in their troop, is always throwing things at Miles and telling him to shut up. its fond. really. 

its 1942. its August when they arrive at the front. they’re the first wave of soldiers. and so they’re to help to english. to do what they can. when they arrive, its disgusting. piss and shit everywhere. and he can hear the screams from the medic tent all the way across camp. war isn’t glamorous. men are dying. 

for the rest of the war, all peter smells is rotting flesh. he never gets used to the smell. 

he yanks Miles next to him and whispers under his breath, “remember what you promised me.” their whole troop is shoved in one barrack. its small and cramped and the floor is mud. his nails are always disgusting. and peter feels like he can never get clean. not that it would matter. there’s no point being clean in war.

the next day, he’s woken up by steve. captain rogers nudges him out of his bunk way too early. he’s bleary eyed and yawns, “yes, sir?” “you’re good with a gun, parker. come with me.” 

he’s briefed by one of the english soldiers. and he’s tested. he shoots long range and he’s good. its almost like he was born for killing. that thought unnerves him. the english captain talks with steve and peter watches the sun rise. 

when steve finds him, he tells peter he’s going to be going to a vantage point and is gonna shoot down some nazis. long range. peter almost argues. in fact, he does try, “shooting somebody whose face i can’t see up close feels cowardly.” steve’s eyes are flat, “war is cowardly. what did you think we did here? fought with honor? there is no honor at the front.” 

a gun is strapped to his chest and he joins the other snipers in a tower overlooking a battlefield. he sees men die. they fall like cards. and the smell. they smell is vomit inducing. but he shoulders his gun and looks down at the field. 

he feels like god a little. because that’s what god does in heaven, right? he looks down at all of the little people on the ground and choose who gets to live and who gets to die. he doesn’t feel powerful, though. being god is a burden. 

he lets the first shot off and it hits. he kills his first man. and the noise around him goes static and white. he grips his chest, just over his heart, where he’s hidden MJ’s picture. like he’s willing it to give him strength. it doesn’t. he feels empty. 

he lets out another shot. and another man falls. on and on it goes. 

that first day he kills 32 men. 32 men whose faces he can’t see. 

that’s the first night peter cries. he curls up in his bunk, back safe at base and sobs into his pillow. his fellow soldiers do him a service and pretend to not hear him. it’s a gift. 

the next day he gets up and does it again. and the day after that, and the day after that. it doesn’t get easier. but he does get more numb. his eyes get that same flat sheen that captain rogers has. he wonders offhand what captain rogers has seen. what made him the way he is. 

the only good thing about being a sniper, if it can even be called good, is that he can keep an eye on Miles. he can keep him safe. any person that gets close to Miles he picks them off. from his haven in the sky. 

they’ve been at the front for four months when Miles gets clipped by a bullet. it goes clear through his shoulder. and peter shoots the person who clips him in the head. its a clean, vengeful shot.

he abandons his post. all of his fellow snipers scream after him, but peter is running down the steps. he has to get to miles. he has to get to him. he won’t let him die. he’s almost 16. that’s too young. they’re all too young.

when he catches up with medics, Miles face is pale and he’s bleeding a little too much. the kind of bleeding that kids die from. he tries to help but the nurses nudge him out of the way. he follows them all of the way back to camp and he’s left outside of the medic tent. in the rain and mud. 

that’s where Captain Rogers finds him. he doesn’t stand in a show of respect. he sits, broken and dead-eyes looking ahead. steve sighs and sits beside him, “parker-” “don’t,” peter cuts him off, “i’m not sorry. i’m not sorry i abandoned my post. i’d do it again. he’s 15, steve.” “i was just gonna say he’s gonna be okay.” peter’s eyes light up and he turns his face up to steve, “really?” he hates how wrecked his voice sounds. steve nods, “really.” 

when they check in with the doctors, later, they tell peter Miles’ shoulder is pretty much dead weight now. he won’t be able to shoot. which means he’s discharged. which means he’s going home.

and that’s the second time peter cries. this time its relief. because Miles will get to see 16 and 17 and 18. but Miles, being Miles, tries to fight the doctors on this. peter smacks him upside the head and tells him he’s done his duty. he’s served. now its time to pack up and go home. 

when Miles is discharged, peter hands him a letter. he’s not written home since he was shipped out. its nearly impossible to get things home. but if Miles is heading back to Queens, he can make sure this letter gets there. 

the first is to May. the second is to MJ. 

MJ’s letter is him telling her how much he loves her. and tucked safe inside the paper is the picture she gave him to take overseas. its dirty from battle and from his finger prints. his worshipful finger prints. he’s certain he’s not making it home. and he’d rather she have the picture. its his way of saying goodbye without actually saying goodbye. its him literally letting her go. 

Miles and Peter hug tight. and he tells him to keep his nose clean and go back and finish school. Miles tells peter he’ll be looking for him once all of this is over. he doesn’t have the heart to tell Miles he’s not sure he’s going home. in fact, he’s sure he won’t. 

he spend the next few years killing. and he’s good at it. he’s really good at it. he sees men screaming from his terror in his dreams. he sees women and children on the other end of his gun. and in his dreams he kills them, too. all of the innocents. 

but he’s good at killing. and so they don’t let him stop. in fact, the start sending him on more covert, bloody missions. he’s a ghost. no one sees him until its too late. 

he sees them all, though. in his dreams. haunting him. 

in 1945 peter is captured by the nazis. he’s sent to a warzone with a small group of specialized soldiers, captain rogers among them. peter’s better than a good shot, he’s a great one. and his whole troop gets wiped out. picked off one by one. except him and captain rogers. 

well, captain rogers for a minute. 

when they drag the two of them back to their base, steve fights. or tries. and he gets a bullet for it. 

that’s the third time peter cries. its not like he expects war to be gentle. he’s smarter than that. but there is something powerful and eternal about steve. like, if anybody was gonna live for him it’d be captain rogers. and he looks so unnatural unmoving. he’s such a effervescent person. or was. 

peter sobs. 

the germans drag him to a tent where they keep their prisoners and he cries well into the night. until a soldier, tired of hearing it, knocks him with the handle of his gun and peter passes out. 

the next morning, he tastes lead in his mouth. blood. he tastes blood. “MJ...” he whispers into the air. “MJ,” he says again. he can almost see her. in fact, he does see her. she’s in that red dress that he loves. she’s got that easy, soft smirk on her face. and all he can think is that he’s not dressed up enough. he’s in his dirty uniform and has dirt and blood caked on his face. and she’s an angel. 

“MJ...” he says again. and she leans down so they’re face to face. she touches his face and he closes his eyes. “i miss you,” she says. he opens his eyes and takes in everything about her. her lips are a vibrant red. the same color they were on the night of their first kiss. “are you real?” he whispers in awe. she shakes her head and her eyes are sad, “no, baby, i ain’t real.” 

he slips back into the abyss. when he wakes the second time she’s gone. and peter rests his head back against the pole he’s tied to. he won’t cry. he’s breathing. and that means he’s gotta keep it together. 

the girl in the red dress with the secret smile would want him to keep breathing. 

or maybe, the evil thought snakes into his mind, maybe she would want him to die. maybe she want him to be at peace. he’s fought for so hard and so long now. maybe he’s earned rest. 

he doesn’t get to think much longer because a soldier joins him in the tent and starts barking at him in german. peter shakes his head, exhausted. “i don’t,” he coughs, “don’t speak German.” “get up American scum,” the heavily accented soldier commands as he cuts peter lose. he knows its a chore, the soldier has to practically drag him to a german command tent. and when he arrives some officer points to a map and demands peter show them where the americans are trooped out. 

he doesn’t answer. they hit him. and so he spits his blood on the map in a show of defiance. they hit him again. demanding he show them the whereabouts. 

peter shakes his head, “i ain’t gonna tell you that.” “you stupid solider-” one guy begins, cocking his gun. peter chuckles, “i’m a musician, actually. i played the trumpet.” he’s not sure why he’s holding on to that detail now. he’s gonna die. the fact that he used to play the trumpet shouldn’t be the detail he’s clinging to. and yet. 

the barrel of the gun is positioned between his eyes. peter smiles. he remembers when he had to shoot from a vantage point that first day. he remembers talking to steve and saying that he wanted honor. to look a man in the eye when he killed him. and this feels like that. 

sure, no one will know what happened to him. yes, maybe they’ll think he went down with the rest of his troop. but he’ll know that he went down standing on his two feet. staring death in the face. 

“any last words?” the German stilts out in broken english. peter exhales, “not to you.” 

he hears the gun shot go off and jumps. because it doesn’t hurt. he expected it to hurt. in fact, he expected it to be over. but when the shock of the shot is over, he realizes he’s not dead. and the soldier who was holding him at gun point is. 

he realizes the room is in chaos. he realizes that there are soldiers screaming in a language he doesn’t know. it sounds what he always imagined russian to sound like. but he could be wrong. 

all he knows is that this is the moment. the moment he could stay behind and find the other end of a bullet to whatever side won this battle. or he could escape. 

he takes option two. 

as he runs, he feels lightheaded. he’s not sure when was the last time he ate or drank water. he’s not sure how long he’s been kept prisoner. did they kill steve yesterday or a week ago? its all unclear. 

the woods wherever he is is thick. and it offers a lot of shelter. he only stops running when he stops hearing the echo of gun shots. and then, he throws up. 

he’s not safe. he has no idea where he is. and he has no idea how to get home. he knows that he needs to go west. that’s where the allies will be. that’s how he gets home. 

it takes him 30 days to find a town that has english speakers in it. he’d avoided every german occupied village and port. but when he arrives in the small city he hears english. american english. 

he nearly faints when he notices an american uniform. he wanders into the town square. announces the name of his unit number and collapses. 

when he wakes up, there is an American soldier sitting beside him in his bed. peter groans in pain. the soldier springs up, “hey woah, soldier, don’t push it. you’re in real bad shape.” “peter,” he mumbles, “my name is peter.” “pleased to meet you, peter,” he smiles, “i’m Doctor Banner.” “where am I?” “safe. and just off the coast of France.”

Doctor Banner moves to sit on the edge of Peter’s bed, “son, where is the rest of your unit?” he remembers the bullet and steve falling the mud, blood floating in the puddles of rain. “dead. sir.” Doctor Banner nods, “i thought as much.” 

peter coughs but forces himself to sit up, “i’m ready to head back, sir. as soon as i can stand.” “that won’t be necessary, son.” “why not?” “the war, peter. its over. honestly, its been over since hitler did himself in.” 

peter chokes and then he’s crying. the fifth time he cries during the war. Doctor Banner wraps his arms around him and squeezes him tight, “its okay, son. you’re going home.” home. peter shakes his head. he can’t go home. he can’t. he can’t look at any of them. his hands dashed sticky and red. he can’t stand to look at them and know what these hands did. 

“no,” he cries, “i shoulda died. i shoulda...” “hey,” Banner rocks him back and forth, “you’re alive for a reason, peter. you’re living. cause you’re meant to live. don’t wish for death. there is nothing glamorous about death.” “you think i don’t know that?” his back shakes, “you have no idea what i’ve done. what i’ve seen. i’ve killed hundreds, shit, probably thousands of them. do you know what killing thousands of people does to a man?” 

and he’s a man now. that’s the first time he remembers. he’s 22. fuck. his curls in on himself. Banner rubs his back. “peter,” he says gently, “you have to talk to me. i’m here to help you.” “ain’t nobody can help me, doc.” 

people are celebrating in the streets once he’s discharged. the war is over. but he feels lost. later, history will call them the silent generation. probably because war stole their voices. there is nothing to say. not after you’ve seen what he’s seen. 

he steps back on American shores in the summer of 1946. the streets are the same. but he’s so different. he’s showered and clean but he feels the dirt of war all over him. he’s not sure how he’s gonna acclimate to civilian life. if he ever can. 

there are men and women sobbing as they reunite on the streets. men in uniforms. men coming home. men who weren’t on the front. he’s heard lots of americans were stationed away from France. only the first wave of boys went there. only the first wave of boys looked germans in their eyes. and pulled a trigger. 

he goes to his aunt’s apartment and hopes she’s still there. that she hasn’t moved since he shipped out. he wouldn’t know. he spent four years without a stitch of news. no letters ever made it to him. 

his shaky hands knock on the door. and aunt may answers the door. she looks horrible. and shaken. and then, she screams and throws her arms around him. she’s sobbing and he clings to her. his hands fist in her clothes. she smells the same. but it doesn’t quite reach him. because he can smell the battlefield over everything else. 

she pulls back and touches his face and smoothes back his hair and cries harder, “they told me you were dead.” his stomach falls. and she keeps talking, “they told me you were dead, peter. said your whole unit died in germany. on a special mission.” peter’s face is void of emotion, “i’m alive, aunt may. i’m the only one.” 

aunt may spends the next three days feeding him, snuggling him and trying to get him to talk. but peter doesn’t want to speak. he has nothing to say. nothing about the war, at least. they talk about curtains and movies he’s missed while he’s been away. they talk about their neighbors. and how tedious rationing has been for her. but never about the war.

he can’t. 

and then she starts to tell him about the boys in the neighborhood who died. the ones who shipped out and didn’t come back like he did. he figures she’s trying to get him to open up about what he did and what he saw. but he won’t. 

he won’t tell her that he stood over the battlefield like a god and killed thousands of men. that some days it was easier than it should have been. to pull a trigger and kill somebody. 

she gives peter two weeks of being a zombie before she gently tells him that he needs to do something. a hobby or a job. he needs to get out of the house. staying home all day isn’t “healthy”. he almost laughs at her. because he’s not doing much healthy anymore. like, sleeping in a bed is too suffocating. he sleeps on the floor with a sheet. 

but he doesn’t wanna upset his aunt more than he already knows he is doing. he sees the way she looks at him when she thinks he isn’t watching her. but the jokes on may. peter is always watching now. he always sleeps like a bomb could go off. he learned that trick in London before he even made it to the front. 

so he goes back to the club. the club where he was happy. it’s day time. and he knows the band will be practicing. if any of the boys are still alive. he’s not sure if he’s ready to see who made it. 

when he arrives no one is playing on the stage. that hurts peter more than he expected. so he sits at the bar. and the barkeep isn’t someone he recognizes. its a young girl. maybe 16. 

he asks for a whiskey. straight. and she pours. peter turns around and looks at the stage. he looks at it through two more drinks. and that’s when Sam Wilson walks on the stage with his trumpet case. Peter stands. alarmed. 

Sam jumps down from the stage and Peter braces for a punch. but it never comes. Sam wraps his arms around him and hugs him. peter doesn’t relax, though. he’s not great with comfort. not since the war. Sam seems to sense this and pulls away, “fuck. peter parker. as i live and breathe. you’re alive.” peter nods. Sam talks more, “we thought....nevermind what we thought. Emmy will be thrilled to see you.”

and there it is. the real reason he knows he walked down to the club. to see her. he knows she’s probably married now. she’s old enough. probably has a kid or two. she’s in her early twenties. most girls settle down around then. but he doesn’t wanna ask. he’s holding his life together by a shoe-string. if she was married, he’s not sure what he’d do. 

“how,” peter’s voice breaks, “how is she?” “good,” Sam nods, “Steinway and Sons stopped making pianos during the war. made glider wings. and she worked on the line. helping our boys over seas. helping you.” “i wasn’t in the air force.” “still,” sam grins, “shit, kid, its great to see you.” “you didn’t go,” peter observes. and Sam shakes his head, “no, uh, i have bad eyesight. they didn’t take me. didn’t take bucky either. his arm.” peter swallows and asks an impossible question, “and Ned?” 

Sam’s face falls. and Peter locks his knees so he doesn’t fall over. “he went down in the pacific,” Sam looks at the ground, “damn good piano player.” peter remembers the face of that german soldier. the one he told he was a musician. he wonders if Ned thought that in his last moment. if he was scared. if he was at peace. he hopes it wasn’t painful. 

he’s already radiating with pain. so he dares to ask, “MJ...is she married?” Sam sighs, like he knew the question was coming, “not a lot of boys left during the war to date much, honestly. besides, she was busy with work.” “if she still wants me, Sam, i’m gonna marry her.” even peter is shocked by the words coming out of his mouth. 

Sam argues, “peter, i told you...” “its not illegal in the state of New York. i don’t care if we get looks. i’m tired, Sam. i’m so fucking tired. you don’t have any idea how tired i am. and i ain’t afraid of you anymore. i’ve seen the devil. and he doesn’t wear your face.” 

Sam sputters, tries to stop him. explain that peter doesn’t understand. that he’ll put Michelle in danger. but peter’s a good shot now. and nobody can take that skill away from him. peter tips his bartender and eyes Sam’s trumpet, “i don’t play much anymore.” 

he goes right from the bar to MJ’s house. he’s never been there before. but he remembers her telling him once her address. she thought the apartment number 123 was hilarious. and he remembers laughing too hard. he doesn’t laugh at all anymore. 

he knocks on her door, hard, twice. and she opens. and time stands still. because it might have been years since he could still paint her face in striking detail. he was afraid he’d forgotten her. he hadn’t. 

her eyes widen and she gasps. but she doesn’t hug him like May did. she takes her shoe off and throws it at him. “you ASS, peter parker.” she takes off her other shoe and throws it again. he stands there as she proceeds to throw four other things at him.

then, he speaks, “you done?” her eyes water. and she hugs him. she starts brushing her fingers through his hair and whispering into his shoulder, “i thought you were dead. you sent me back that stupid picture. i hated you so much for that.” 

he’s glad, for a moment, that Miles found her. “i thought i was gonna die,” he whispers. and its the first time he says that out loud. he was terrified he was gonna die. and then he accepted it, but it was always there. the thought. that he’d die. she squeezes him tight, “what happened to you?” “i was a nazi prisoner toward the end. i don’t remember much. i think i was there for a week. i shoulda died.” 

she pulls away and slaps him across the face. and he feels something. “don’t you ever say that again, peter parker, you hear me?” he nods, “yes, ma’am. can’t promise i won’t think it, though.” and she looks like he might’ve hit her this time. “why,” she stutters, “why would you say that?” “nothing,” he whispers, “don’t worry about it. marry me.” 

and she raises her eyebrow and smacks his chest, pushing him away from her. “you can’t say you want to die, for me not to worry about it and then ask me to marry you all in one breath. that’s not right. especially not after five years. five years, peter.” “i can’t control how long i was away!” “you never wrote me. not one letter. except one goodbye letter. that was all i had of you. do you have any idea how that felt?? the only thing i ever had from you was a freakin’ goodbye letter. that’s not OKAY!” she yells.

he roars back, “YEAH WELL I’M NOT OKAY.” she steps back, the force of his voice moving her. his eyes flutter and rubs his forehead, “i’m sorry. i-....i didn’t mean to yell. i just....you don’t know.” she brushes his arm, “then tell me.” he shakes his head, “i can’t.” 

“i can’t marry you,” she gnaws on her lip, “not like this.” he’s expecting her answer, so he smiles sadly, “yea, i know. i’m trying, Em. i’m trying every day. its just so hard.” she kisses his cheek desperately, “let me help you.” “you did,” he admits. and she raises an eyebrow, so he explains, “when i wanted to die. when i was a prisoner....i saw you. you spoke to me. you were wearing your red dress.” “i was?” “yea,” he whispers, “you were.” 

MJ guides peter into her apartment. there are pictures of her family all over. he sees a picture of a younger MJ and Sam. when she sits him on the couch, she runs off to the kitchen to make him tea. she forces it into his hands and then says gently, “tell me what happened to you.” 

and it all comes back. he wasn’t a german prisoner for a night. no. he was a prisoner for a week. seven days before they dragged him to that german command tent and told him to give up the american’s position. he was there for a week after they shot Steve. and every day they tortured him. he remembers Doctor Banner telling him that he was in bad shape. that was why. but he’d pushed the thoughts of that week of hell away in the back of his mind. it was like it never happened. 

until MJ asked. 

peter started to cry and she put their teas on the coffee table and hugged him. “baby,” she whispers, “tell me.” he remembers the post he was tied to. he remembers the pain. they tied him to the post and flogged him. his uniform was ribbons when he ran. because they’d beaten most of the fabric away. they’d hung him upside down and left him, letting the blood rush to his head. and he’d pass out. throw up. they’d throw him in a puddle of water and toss an electrified device in the water to electrocute him. every day something new. every day something horrible. 

“i shoulda died,” he cried, “i shoulda died instead of living through that. steve died. why me? why did they pick me?” and slowly, he told her. told her as he remembered. and she didn’t cry but her eyes watered. it looked like she was fighting back the urge to fall apart. instead, she lets him. 

its night time once he’s done talking. and MJ doesn’t speak. she pulls him in her arms and rocks them back and forth. that only makes him cry harder. 

that night, he doesn’t go home. MJ lays on the floor next to peter and they both sleep. he’s exhausted. and in the middle of the night when he wakes up screaming, she’s there to press kisses into his shoulder until he comes back to himself. its after the night terrors that he asks her again, “marry me.” 

she kisses him on the mouth for the first time that day. and its brief. too brief. it makes everything easier. “no,” she shakes her head, “not like this. i can’t be your savior.” and he hates that she’s right. 

so the next morning he leaves. this time he gives her more than a goodbye letter to remember him by. he gives her his dog tags. and promises to come back for them. but he needs to work this out. and she smiles, “next time i see you, you better have better jewelry for me than dog tags.” he laughs. and it startles him. he can’t remember the last time he did that. laugh. 

“you’ll get a ring. promise.” “good.” and she hesitates before leaning in and kissing him soundly. against his mouth, she whispers, “come back to me.” 

when he gets to the veteran recovery hospital he’s diagnosed with combat exhaustion. later, they’ll call this PTSD. and he’ll begin to work through it slowly. he’s in new york. the doctors are progressive and understanding. and they take their time. he talks through things at his own pace. and he’s given techniques to handle his outbursts. his anger. his sadness. 

he declines the drugs, its ‘46 and everything is experimental. but he does work hard on getting better. and he writes MJ. he writes MJ every day. even the days he doesn’t wanna get out of bed. and there are plenty of days where he doesn’t wanna get out of bed. 

he knows he may be starting to get better when he wakes up one day and decides he wants to play the trumpet. so he asks May to send it to him. and when it arrives he’s rusty. actually, he’s bad. but it makes him happy. the music is louder than the memories of the screaming on the battlefield. 

and six months after he checks in to the hospital he feels more like himself. its not perfect. he doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same. but he’s feels happiness again. and he laughs. and he plays the trumpet. and sometimes you don’t get perfect. you get what works for you. and this is what works for peter.

so he checks out of the hospital and buys MJ a ring. and this time when he knocks on her door, he’s already on one knee. and he smiles up at her shocked face, “i’ll trade you?” and her eyes water. so he explains. “you still have my dog tags. i’ll give you this ring and you give me them?” 

and she rolls her eyes but she throws herself into his arms. he crushes her to him and breathes her in. she doesn’t smell like the battlefield. she smells like MJ. she kisses all over his face and then breathes, “ask me for real, you idiot.” he nudges his nose against hers and asks. for real, “marry me?” 

and she does. 

[all-my-novels]

Iris. [SDRA2 Sannohashi oneshot]

read on ao3 here if you please

plot:

and i don’t want the world to see me ‘cause i don’t think that they’d understand when everything’s made to be broken i just want you to know who i am.

syobai hashimoto has to fix the biggest mistake he’s ever made in his life. mikado sannoji has to deal with what syobai leaves behind when he runs away. it was never supposed to go this far.

syobai-focused sannohashi, set in the “nuclear” AU. more explained inside. featuring trans!mikado and sora/syobai friendship. tw for mentions of suicide attempt in the beginning.

notes:

So to make a long story short, this series takes place after a huge nuclear war decimated half of the human population and fucked up a lot of shit with the environment and people’s bodies. Everybody knows shit’s fucked. The SDRA2 kids exist in the same universe as the rest of the canon Ultimates, and everyone’s around the same age (THH and NDRV3 kids are about 22, SDR2 kids are 23, SDRA2 kids are around 20-21). So everyone’s an adult. Don’t come for my throat. Don’t like it, don’t leave a nasty comment, thanks! Bad and stinky comments will be placed inside the bee oven to atone for their sins.

It’s not often that Syobai admits this, but this time, he’s absolutely, completely, royally, fucked up. Badly. And normally he doesn’t care, but this time is so very different. Sitting at a table in a nearly-empty diner at half-past noon is not where he thought he was gonna end up today, but here he is, with his head in his hands, staring down at his phone’s lock screen, counting the minutes since Sora sent her “omw" text.

This diner serves whiskey. A lot of places serve liquor now, have since the war tore the world apart and left millions of traumatized people to deal with the aftermath, many of them turning to alcohol to cope. Syobai has been drinking since the ripe old age of ten, so that’s not new to him, and the whiskey they have here is strong, and it’s tempting.

It’s so, so tempting. But if he does that, it won’t end very well for him; first of all, Sora would likely – definitely – beat his ass into next week if she shows up and finds him drunk. Second, in the state he’s currently in emotionally, if he gets drunk, all he’s going to do is remember things, and when he remembers things, he ends up waking up on the bathroom floor at 3 AM in a puddle of his own tears with a bottle of pain pills in his hand.

So Syobai won’t drink. Not today, anyway. But God damn, does he really want to smoke.

As soon as he starts to get up to go outside (the diner has a no smoking policy, which he thinks is stupid considering the fact that nuclear warfare has done shit to the air they don’t even know about yet, but he’s not willing to get kicked out and risk a beating by Sora yet again), the universe interferes with his life once more. Sora steps in through the door of the diner.

Well there goes that plan.

She spots him fairly quickly and strides over to the booth in the back corner, sliding into the seat like nothing’s changed. Syobai remembers when they’d used to skip class every Wednesday and go down to the diner down the street from Hope’s Peak, the one that served all the crazy Western food, and dare each other to eat the craziest shit on the menu as fast as they could without puking or choking. Sora, of course, would win every time, and "claim her victory for all of the lesbians out there.”

It’s enough to make him smile a little bit. The diner was abandoned when the war started, but they still hang out there sometimes.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s wrong with you?”

Sora’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and Syobai lifts his head to look at her. She’s got her chin in her hand, and her elbow propped on the table.

“Elbows on the table? Not very lady-like,” Syobai jokes. With her free hand, Sora flips him off, and he snickers. “I’m kidding, geez. Who says there’s anything wrong with me?”

Sora points at the complimentary basket of chips the diner serves with every customer. “There’s food on the table, and you haven’t eaten it all yet to spite me. Now, I asked you nicely. Don’t make me come over there.”

Well. Looks like he can’t stall his explanation anymore.

He lets out a long, heavy, slow sigh, and laces his fingers together in front of him on the table. Syobai turns his grey-eyed gaze down towards the surface of the table, before forcing himself to look up and meet Sora’s eyes.

“I need your help,” he says simply. “I fucked up.”

“You do that a lot. Elaborate.”

“I fucked up really, really bad.” Syobai pauses. “With Mikado.”

Sora tilts her head. “Last time I asked, you told me the two of you were "just sleeping together casually.” Did you lie to me, Syobai?“

Syobai swallows heavily. He can hear his heart beating in his ears.

"Mikado is pregnant,” he finally says. The words actually leaving his lips feel like the final blow in a fight, and he’s just lost. “With my children.”

“… oh.” Sora blinks a few times. “So this was an accident, I take it? Whatever happened to high school Syobai Hashimoto who carried five different types of condoms in his wallet at all times just in case he met a hot guy walking home from school?”

“Hey, in my defense, I usually still have condoms.” Yes, they’re a bit harder to find nowadays, as is almost everything, but up until now, he’s always managed to have one on hand for when the two of them start feeling frisky (which tends to happen at least once a day). “To answer your question, though, what happened is Setsuka decided to get hitched.”

“The party,” Sora gasps, remembering suddenly. “Oh, my God. So you two did fuck in the bathroom! Emma owes me five thousand yen.”

“Yes, we did do that,” Syobai mumbles. It’s not totally his fault, he thinks. It’s not like Mikado wasn’t grinding on him half the night, begging him to fuck him as hard as he could against the wall. It’s no doubt the best sex he’s ever had in his life.

And, of course, it’s the one time they fuck without a condom and without pulling out. Not that that’s guaranteed to help anything, but hey, it might have? Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on Syobai’s part.

“So what’s the problem?” Sora continues. “Does he not want the babies?”

Syobai looks away. “I, uh. I don’t know.”

Sora’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You didn’t talk to him about it?”

Syobai gives a dry laugh. “Well, ya see, that’s where the whole ”I fucked up really bad“ bit comes in.”

“What’d you do.” This isn’t spoken as a question, somehow, as Sora’s voice deepens. She’s already pissed off, great, and Syobai has a feeling she won’t be any happier when he tells this part of the story.

“Um.” Syobai swallows again, more nervous this time. “I… I ran off.”

Silence. “Excuse me?” Sora says. “You wanna run that by me again?”

Syobai still isn’t meeting her eyes. He recalls exactly how the exchange went, just about two hours ago now.

“I’m pregnant.”

The world stops turning.

Mikado’s holding his hands over his stomach, gloved fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt so tightly his hands shake. Syobai, on the other hand, just. Stands there. Staring at Mikado, completely speechless.

Before he knows it, his body is reacting all on its own. Syobai opens his mouth, trying to form an intelligent response, but all that comes out is two words he’ll regret deeply:

“I can’t.”

Before Mikado reacts to that, Syobai yanks the front door open and takes off down the street, running and running and running until he can’t, falling to his knees behind the 7-11 – how the hell did he get there, it’s a mile from the house – choking and coughing before he inevitably pukes from the strain of running so far, so fast.

This all goes through his head in the span of about two seconds. “I just stood there like an idiot,” Syobai finally says. “I – I said I can’t and then I ran.” His hand curls into a fist. “I ran like the dumb fucking coward I am.” He brings his fist down on the table as hard as he can. Sora doesn’t jump, instead staring at him evenly. “Go ahead and say it. I know you want to.”

“You’re right for once. What the hell is wrong with you?” Sora snaps. “I know that taking responsibility for your numerous fuck-ups is completely foreign to you, and usually you get away with it with no consequences because that’s just how it is when you deal with people you don’t care about and criminals, and hey, I can let it go when it’s some nameless Yakuza dude who got assassinated with a gun you sold someone 'cause I don’t care either,” she begins. “But then, you turn around and do this shit? To Mikado? To someone we all know, and yeah, he might be a rat, but he doesn’t deserve to be left high and dry and pregnant and scared because you –” And here she points at him, Syobai flinching as every word cuts deeper, “– are a fucking coward. You’re God damn right you screwed up.”

“I was scared,” Syobai says, his weak attempt at a protest surprising even himself.

“You were scared?” Sora laughs, and it’s bitter. “That’s funny. It’s funny that you were scared. How do you think Mikado feels right now? Alone, facing the possibility of having to raise more than one child by himself after the man he’s spent half of high school madly in love with, and the man he’s been sleeping with for the past six months, ran away when he told him he’d gotten him pregnant?”

There’s really nothing he can say to that. Syobai sighs shakily. “I wasn’t just scared because he’s pregnant,” he finally says. “I was scared because…”

He shuts his eyes.

“Because I love him. I love him, so much that it hurts, and I may as well have just stabbed him right in the chest.”

“And you’re not used to that,” Sora says. “You’re not used to caring for anyone except yourself. But as long as you kept telling yourself it was just for fun, and there were no feelings involved, you could shrug it off. Maybe a part of you thought Mikado felt the same way, like it was just a game. Then he started to make your world wider, you started to get comfortable with it, and you got scared. Then he came to you, and told you that it wasn’t just him anymore, and you panicked. You couldn’t handle it. But instead of staying there and talking to him about it like an adult, you were just cryptic, and then you ran away.”

Syobai opens his eyes and looks over at Sora. He somehow looks even older than he usually does. “Yeah. Yeah, you got me there.” He swallows, heavily, and his mouth tastes like copper from how hard he’s been chewing on his inner lip. “It was just supposed to be for fun. It was never supposed to be serious.”

“Yeah, well, tough shit,” Sora shrugs. “Mikado’s pregnant. You’re gonna be a dad. You could run all the way to America and it wouldn’t change a thing. The only difference is, Mikado has to live with what you gave him forever. You’ve got two choices: you can drag your sorry ass home and show Mikado you’re sorry, or you can keep running away. But, I’ll have you know…” And here, Sora’s voice darkens, and she looks more dangerous now than she ever did before even with a gun in her hands, “If you leave him like that? And if you ever run away from him like that again? And dare to show your face in Japan again? I will personally hunt you down and make you beg for me to kill you. Understand?”

“… yeah. I understand,” Syobai replies. He runs a hand through his hair while Sora takes a couple of breaths to calm herself down. “I don’t want to leave him. But I don’t think I’m ready to be a father. Or much of anything, really.” He looks down at his hands, rough and calloused and forever stained with the blood of so many that only he can see. “What if I can’t love them?”

“If you love Mikado as much as you say you do, you’ll fall in love with those babies way before they’re ever born,” Sora tells him. “Listen. This world’s gone to shit. It’s gonna be hard to raise a family like this. That’s why Yoruko and I are waiting. But it’s a little too late for you to do that, so all you can do is suck it up and do everything you can to make sure they never have to be a part of what we were.”

Sora’s words seal Syobai’s decision.

—

He tries calling Mikado to tell him he’s coming home for an hour, and gets absolutely no response. A part of Syobai is worried, desperately hoping Mikado didn’t do something stupid and end up hurting himself, and wants to get home as soon as he can, but…

The other part of him feels like if he just shows up at home with no warning, it’ll only make the situation that much worse.

So he calls, and calls, and calls, and gets sent to voicemail over and over, until finally, there’s an answer.

“Fucking Syobai Hashimoto,” a voice that is decidedly not Mikado’s comes through the speaker. “I ought to skin you alive and wear you like a fur coat. How dare you.”

Syobai sighs and frowns, rubs a hand over his face. “Hello, Nikei.”

“Don’t you hello, Nikei me!” The furious man spits over the phone. “Ever since Mikado told me you two were a thing, I’ve been looking for a reason to shoot you and make Why Syobai Hashimoto’s Death Should be Celebrated as a National Holiday an article on the front page news for a month straight! Now I finally get a reason and I can’t even do it because Mikado wants his kids to know their scumbag father!”

Syobai pauses. “… he wants me to come back?”

“I want you to come back, too,” Nikei starts to say. “So I can beat you to death with a baseball bat.” It sounds like he wants to say more, but then Syobai hears a very quiet, muffled voice in the background. It has to be Mikado. He strains to hear, but it’s no use, because the phone doesn’t pick up exactly what he’s saying. A few seconds later, though, he hears Nikei give a heavy sigh.

“Alright, fine. Mikado wants to hear you out, so I won’t be here when you get back, sadly,” Nikei mutters. “But I can be there in ten minutes tops if he calls me back, and I’d love to see you try to outrun my bullets.”

“Point taken.” Syobai closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath. “Tell him to leave the door unlocked. I’m coming home.”

—

It takes a little under an hour for Syobai to get home. He has to walk all the way there, after all, and he’s already tired, but he pushes through. By the time he makes it to the driveway, it feels like his legs are about to fall off.

Then he gets to the front door, puts his hand on the doorknob, and hesitates. It’s like all of the exhaustion evaporates, replaced by pure adrenaline and the urge to turn around and start running again.

No. He’s made up his mind. Syobai closes his eyes, the mental image of Mikado laughing brightly in his arms appearing to him with no trouble at all, without him even needing to think about it.

God. All the things he would do to make that smile come back to Mikado’s face. All the things he would do to forget the look of heartbreak he saw for just a split second when they were standing in the living room.

He turns the doorknob and walks inside the empty living room. His feet land in the same place they were, and he lets the door close behind him as he takes a few shallow breaths. The nagging little voice in the back of his head says you should’ve ended this a long time ago, Hashimoto. You always knew you’d never be man enough for him, to protect him, to care for him. You’re just a coward.

Syobai ignores it, pushes through the pain and walks over to the door of the bedroom he and Mikado have been sharing. Technically, it’s Syobai’s room, because this is his house, but his sheets smell like Mikado, and it’s his and Mikado’s clothes on the floor in that room, and there’s a picture of both of them hanging on the wall.

Syobai bites his lip so hard he tastes blood, then knocks three times on the door. He contemplates saying something to announce his presence, but finds it better to keep his mouth shut for right now.

At least, until the door opens up, and it’s Mikado standing before him, with no mask, his face clearly streaked and stained with tears. Syobai forces himself to look at his face, look him in the eyes, because Mikado deserves that, at least. He deserves so much more than what Syobai’s given him.

Neither of them really knows what to say at first. Then Syobai takes a shuddering, shallow breath.

“I’m sorry, for what I said,” Syobai finally says. “I said ”I can’t.“ That was a lie. I - I can, I just… didn’t want to face it.”

“I really hope you didn’t come all the way here just to say I’m sorry and expect me to forgive you,” Mikado says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Syobai shakes his head. “I’m not asking you to forgive me right now,” he murmurs. “I just want you to hear me out. Then you can do whatever you want. I swear. Please.”

Mikado bites his lip and looks down at the floor, contemplating. “Fine. But I’m not doing this for you.”

“That’s okay.” Syobai closes his eyes for a moment, then looks back evenly at Mikado as he slowly gets to his knees, now looking up at him. Mikado doesn’t hide the look of shock on his face as Syobai starts talking.

“Listen. I’m not gonna make excuses. I’m a coward, and I’m a fool. I broke your heart. When things go beyond my intentions, I try to own up to them. Today I ran away instead.” He swallows heavily, watches as Mikado shuts his eyes tight. “I - until you told me this morning, I was a man with nothing to lose. Nobody but myself. Then I went from that, to having everything to lose in two words. All my life, I never cared about what happened to anybody but myself. I didn’t give a shit. And now…” He looks at Mikado’s stomach, where he’s resting one of his gloved hands, as though he isn’t even thinking about it.

“I realized no matter how far I ran, or for how long, I’d never be able to forget that. I couldn’t change it. I can’t go back in time and stop what happened.” Syobai sighs. Mikado’s hands tremble. “The more I thought about it, the more I realized: I don’t want to stop what happened. I don’t want these kids to not exist.”

“Then why did you run away? Why’d you leave me?” Mikado chokes out.

There’s no turning back now. Syobai looks at Mikado right in the eyes, grey meeting pale brown, Syobai finally ready to say the words that could make or break him.

“Because I love you, Mikado Sannoji,” Syobai says, clearly, sincerely, the only words that have ever come from his mouth with complete purity. “I love you, and it’s real and it’s raw and it scares the living hell out of me, because I didn’t think I could until you walked into my life.” He reaches out, fully ready for Mikado to push him away. Instead, he’s pleasantly surprised when his cold hands are wrapped in Mikado’s warm ones. He hasn’t looked away from him, not for a moment, watching as more tears spill down Mikado’s face despite him trying to fight them. “I got through life by putting up paywalls, literally, and I knew no person in their right mind would ever wanna get past them.” He gives a little laugh. “I didn’t count on you, coming in and blowing holes through them.”

“Hey, I only blew a hole in a wall once, and that was an accident,” Mikado laughs and cries at the same time, his body trembling. By now, Syobai’s shaking too, but he’s still fighting his own tears.

“Well, you sure got rid of mine,” Syobai says. He lifts one of his hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles. “To be honest, I’m still scared. I don’t know what I’m doing, not with you, not with the kids we made, not with my life, but I do know one thing: I wanna figure it out with you, and nobody else.”

His voice cracks. Syobai swallows heavily, one last ditch-effort attempt at holding back his emotions.

“Will you let me stay here, right here, by your side?” Syobai asks, voice strained. “Will you let me become the man you deserve?” He sniffs, his last words coming in a quiet sob:

“Will you let me be a father?”

Mikado nods, squeezes Syobai’s hands, his decision made as soon as he sees the tears – so very real, undeniable evidence of Syobai bearing his soul to Mikado for the first time – coming down his face like rain.

“Yeah. Yes, let’s do it,” Mikado whispers. “Oh, my God. We’re gonna be fathers.”

Syobai leans forward a little, rests his head against Mikado’s belly, presses their still interlocked hands against the small, barely-noticeable swell, evidence that their children are safe, growing, and healthy. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t need to, as he rolls up the bottom of Mikado’s shirt and kisses his skin, so gently he’s afraid he imagined it at first.

Syobai Hashimoto doesn’t so much fall in love with Mikado Sannoji; instead, rather, he stumbles into it, clumsy and foolish and with no grace at all. But he falls in love with their little ones in a split second, a moment in time he’ll never forget.