#*sees the bird table out the window* OH those angles line up really nicely and bisect the lines of

[b-blushes]

A fun side effect of observational drawing solely from reference photos I take in my house is that my silly awed appreciation for objects is even more off the charts than it was before (didn’t think that was possible tbh), like, I was in the bathroom last night and fully had A Moment looking at the tap, just overwhelmed by the shapes and light and colour and reflections and how pleasant and joyful it all was to look at

[need-a-fugue]

Little Bird

Summary: A nice leisurely morning in your husband’s arms is exactly what you need right now. But feeling warm and safe can cause secrets and doubts to spill so easily…

Author’s note: For the Flex Your Muscles Writing Challenge from @captain-rogers-beard​ (6/18). This prompt sparked a little something-something… I’ve been struggling on piecing together a story I’ve been working on for a bit, and this scene just tumbled right out thanks to one lovely, little word… Leisurely.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: all pretty tame, just some sweetness and angst

Word count: 2K

Mornings had been rough lately, streams of light from the rising sun peeking through the window long before your tired body is ready to greet the day, the brilliant orange hues setting your stomach to clench and roil in bitter anticipation. Most days, you roll out of bed with a slow groan, hoping to make it to the bathroom before the full force of nausea hits, only to end up racing in a flourish the moment you leave the small air conditioned bedroom, the Wakandan heat prickling your senses to make this sickness that much more unbearable.

A typical morning meant violently emptying your stomach into the toilet down the hall, your husband at your back – only half awake himself – holding your hair and trailing a gentle, cooling touch down the back of your neck with his blissfully cold vibranium fingertips.

But today, for the first time in weeks, the swiftly rising sun seemed to herald little more than a slow and languid wakening, you and Bucky both stirring and stretching and shifting, leisurely curling round one another, just as you had before this new phase of life began.

For an hour or more, you’d been – gratefully, blessedly – slipping in and out of that splendid sort of sleep that only early mornings can bestow… the kind that had been eluding you for so damn long now. Bucky feels it too, the serene pull of respite that you both know is about to become increasingly rare, a new disruption to your life lingering on the horizon.

But today, there’s no disruption at all. No rush to rise – I’ll take care of the goats later, he whispers into your ear before sliding his way down the sheets – and no sickness churning within.

Today is… easy.

The smallest, softest sigh slips past your lips as you shift your hips beneath him. “You’re spending an awful lot of time down there,” you mutter, voice slow and deep with near sleep.

Bucky tugs you closer, right hand splayed over your hip, thumb tracing delicately along the tender flesh of your abdomen, and he looks up, propping his chin on your middle as he aims those dazzling blue eyes your way. “Never heard you complain about me hanging out down here before,” he intones lightly, wiggling his eyebrows before lowering his lips to your stomach.

“Stop it,” you laugh, squirming beneath him, sliding far enough down the bed that the back of your head flops off of the pillow entirely. “Tickles,” comes out in a barely there murmur as your fingers move down to thread idly through his thick, wavy hair.

He turns his head, laying his cheek once again atop your still-flat abdomen, staring up at you in a way that could only be described as utterly adoring. “I love you,” he announces, exhaling the words just as easily as if they were air.

The corner of your mouth quirks up, a single brow following it in an incredulous raise. “Are you sure it’s me that you love? Because I don’t feel like you’re really paying much attention to me at all.”

His face twists, forehead crinkling. “She is you,” he says plainly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You let out a small groan, hips twisting a bit again before his hands settle you back into the sheets, holding you in place.

“Stop distracting me,” he tells you, tone chiding, but eyes gleaming as he presses himself closer, head angling a bit at your center. “I’m trying to listen to my baby girl.”

“Yeah, sure,” you sigh out dramatically. “I’ll bet she’s talking up a storm. She’s the size of a freakin’ kumquat.”

“I don't even know what that is,” he murmurs, completely unfazed.

You give him a playful shove, the heat from his body starting to get to you, sheets sticking to your naked thighs. “It’s a fruit. And much like your baby girl,” you mutter with a harrumph, “it doesn’t speak.”

He rolls his eyes and lets out an almost irritated sigh. “I’m listening to her move,” he tells you, an air of absolute duh coating the statement.

You give his hair a short tug. “You are not.”

“Am too,” he argues, raising a brow – but never moving his ear from your center. “Super hearing, remember?”

Now you’re the one to roll your eyes, shifting again, eager to move, annoyance at being held prisoner in your own bed beginning to swell. “It’s probably just her heartbeat.”

He raises his head and gives you a disappointed look. “I know what her heartbeat sounds like,” he says blandly before lowering himself back down. “Thrums like crazy. Like you when you try to run.”

Another light shove. “What do you mean try to run? Is that a crack about my perfectly acceptable human speed? Because I will have you know – ”

“You used to run cross-country,” he interrupts blithely. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

A slight frown tugs at your lips, your stare focusing on the ceiling above for a long, silent moment before you pull yourself up onto your elbows. Looking down at him – so content and relaxed as he rests with his head against your middle – you almost scowl at his ease, your brows tugging tightly together. “You can really hear her move?”

The widest, brightest smile flashes – along with a light laugh as he takes note of the concern belying your crumpled countenance. “Yeah. Does that freak you out?”

“Kinda,” slips out, almost a whisper, as you nervously pull your bottom lip in between your teeth. He issues another short chuckle, and you flop back to the bed. “Reminds me of Alien,” you say, throwing your forearm dramatically over your eyes. “Like I don’t have enough nightmares already.”

Bucky pulls away from your belly and slowly sidles up alongside you, his right hand raking up beneath your loose T-shirt and along your ribs as he goes. “Oh?” he murmurs into your neck, both arms wrapping around your torso as he snuggles in close. A chaste but lingering kiss is pressed to your warm skin, the slightest hint of vanilla – a taste, a smell – hitting his senses, enduring on his lips as he pulls away. “Why you having nightmares, baby?”

“I’m… stressed,” you tell him weakly, still hiding beneath your arm.

He pulls back a bit and lets out a languid sigh, reaches out and tenderly runs the pad of his flesh thumb over your dramatically pouting bottom lip. “Don’t want that,” he says with a frown of his own.

You shake your head and huff out a breath, finally pull your arm away and turn onto your side to gaze somberly at him. Your left hand falls to his cheek, heavily stubbled, the beard coming and going seemingly on a whim. Though you know the truth, his ongoing scheme to alternately annoy you with whiskered kisses and then delight you with long-awaited clean-shaven snuggles an ill-kept secret at best. You stroke your thumb down the length of his face, bringing it to rest in the divot of his chin. Your eyes fall down to stare briefly at the oh-so-familiar dimple, a soft sigh of a declaration tumbling out of you. “I hope she gets this.”

He shifts beside you, drawing your eyes back up to his, to see them narrow with concern. “Why are you stressed, baby?” he asks simply. As though there might actually be a simple response.

You shrug, gaze falling into the small space between you. Outside, the sun has fully risen, the sounds of chirping birds and naying goats filtering in through the half-open window. One of the cats jumps onto the bed, begins rubbing around your ankles, purring thickly.

Bucky gives you a tiny jostle with his vibranium hand, cupped low around your hip. “What have you been dreaming about?” he tries instead.

Another shrug, though this time you swallow thickly and tick your eyes up to meet his. “They’re just… they’ve been… I don’t know… weird. Not nightmares, really. Just… I don’t know.”

“Okay,” he issues out with a curious lilt. “What happens in them?”

You lick your lips, eyes darting away briefly, crease deepening in your forehead as you think. Think of what to say. Of how to explain. “Sometimes… I see her,” you murmur finally, the words sounding uncertain, almost iniquitous, even to your own ears. “As a baby. As a little girl.” You shift uncomfortably, letting out a small, agitated groan. And he tightens his hold on you, brings his flesh hand up to stroke soothing lines down your back.

“You see her?” he asks, a bit hesitant. “Our baby?”

You nod into him, ducking your face and burying it in the crook of his neck. “It’s never anything… bad. Never really anything at all. I’m rocking her at night. Or… I’m watching her color at a table. Or…” Your voice fades off into nothing, other words… other dreams sitting low in your throat, clamoring to rise as you effortfully swallow them back down.

“Sounds nice,” he offers simply, the heat from his breath – from his body, so close – setting your nerve endings aflame.

You shake your head, still choking on the truth. A deep tremble builds within your chest, spills out to quake Bucky’s gripping arms. “It doesn’t feel nice.” Your tired eyes blink shut, a barrage of simple, serene images playing on the backs of your lids. Simple, yet… “It’s like… there’s nothing wrong… nothing I can see. But…” You pull back just a bit, open hooded eyes to stare helplessly up at him. “It all feels… wrong.”

He’s silent for a long moment as he watches you closely, thinks on what to say. A single thumb begins to stroke along your shoulder blade, his hand beneath your shirt feeling sticky and hot, and… unwelcome. You twitch awkwardly, his thumb stilling as a soft sigh spills from his chest. “Just nerves,” he mutters then, no intonation of a question, but a lack of surety all the same. Another sigh falls as he tucks you in close, peeling his sweaty hand from your skin and instead draping his arm heavily over your hip. “I’m scared too,” he breathes into your hair, laying a lingering kiss to your crown. “Scared I’ll screw something up. Scared I might… hurt her.”

You shift in his grasp, head shaking fluidly back and forth. “You wouldn’t. You won’t.”

He rests his chin in your hair, reaches up to begin again the slow, soft stroke up and down your spine. “It’ll be okay, baby,” he whispers, the oft-repeated words laying out promises even he knows are brittle and frail. “It’ll all be okay.”

The anxious worry – the tattered fear – that sloughs off of him, sounding in his voice, pulsating through his fingertips, is enough to make you wish you hadn’t said a word. You shake your head again, an attempt to rid your mind of the building thoughts… the budding what ifs that these odd and portending dreams had been causing to ripple through your subconscious mind for so many days… nights.

But now it’s morning, so different from the night, when all your doubts come out to play. Sleep. Lazy, languid, sunrise sleep feeling like a warm and welcoming breeze blowing across your still-trembling body. The promise of sleep – light and airy and dreamless – seems but a breath away as you lay here… you and your baby both laying here in Bucky’s arms. Safe, if only for today.

“What does she sound like?” you ask, voice light, an almost forced optimism rushing through it.

A crooked smile blooms across his face as he presses another soft kiss into your hair. “Sounds like… a little flutter.”

“Hm,” you breathe out, eyes drifting shut, nothing but a tranquil, faded image of the partially open window playing on your lids. “Like a little bird?”

“Yeah, baby,” he whispers, tugging you close as your breathing begins to deepen, body growing heavy in his grip. “Just like a little bird.”

[soulwillower]

rude boy III • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

part 3 of this series!

requested: this has been requested a lot and i dont have enough space to put them all! sorry it took so long!!

warnings: swearing, fluff, smut, bit of angst, a tiny bit of rough sex, but then soft sex, theres lots of crying in this lol but its not v angsty, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, some praise kink, and richie has a hair pulling kink, kinda vanilla tho, unprotected sex, unedited

[losers + reader are aged up 18+ in this.]

5.6k words, oh man sorry

also: i was listening to peach by kevin abstract as i write the car scene :’)

♡

it was one of those days that just didn't stop. one thing after another, from your car breaking down last night to customers calling you sloppy and leaving no tip. the sun rays that shine on your back are warm and cast a long shadow out onto the field in front of you and the breeze makes you sniffle a bit. you'd dropped a whole tray of food on yourself right at the end of your shift, and syrup is drying your hair and dripping down your uniform - you feel like shit.

tears leak slowly from your eyes, feeling sorry for yourself and wondering what you're going to do for the night - you could probably call one of your neighbors, or maybe mike, but you'd left your keys inside your house and nobody was home, so you're stranded without access to your house or a car.

you laugh a bit, in disbelief at the day you've had.

"the fuck are you doing down there, y/l/n? thought you got off thirty minutes ago." a nasally, judging, and pretentious voice calls from a few feet behind you, and you try not to outwardly groan as you quickly wipe away your tears. you sigh in defeat, knowing the tears probably won't dry up in time, and you turn to look at richie.

he's standing with his hoodie in his arm, bathed in golden light and barely more than a silhouette from where he's standing against the dying sun. you really hate how ethereal he looks.

"richie, can you lay off for tonight?" you spit, turning around quickly so he doesn't see your puffy face. "just leave, i don't want to see you right now."

and it's only half true. because recently, you'd actually found solace in richie's company. yes, you still argued, but the fire that surrounds your words are now driven by something more akin to fondness rather than the original animosity. it was freaking you out, but when richie would leave a milkshake with extra whipped cream on the counter for you when he clocked out, or when he stuck his tongue out at rude customers when they turned away, and even when he flirted with you just to be a dick, something tickled inside your chest and you even found yourself flirting back with him. and enjoying it immensely. it was sick.

you thought he'd left you alone but much to your dismay, the familiar beaten red converse high tops smack next to you on the pavement as richie folds his lanky body in two, sitting down only a few inches from you on the sidewalk facing the field.

"what's on your mind?" he says after a few awkward moments and you spare a glance at him. his eyes are taking in your red and puffy face, but his features are concerned. you feel that chest tickle again.

"lots of things. what are you doing?" you say suspiciously, hugging yourself and wiping away stray tears as they fall. you wish you could get up and leave, but it's too far to walk home and it's about to get dark. richie shrugs, playing with his fingers as they sit atop his legs, his knee bouncing incessantly. it irritates you, but you don’t say anything 

"where's your car, y/l/n? drive it into a lake or something?" he says instead, completely disregarding your previous question and making you roll your eyes. "shut up, richie. god. i just- my car broke down and-" and your voice breaks and you shove your face into your hands to hide your embarrassment from the boy next to you.

"woah, it's just a car. damn, what's wrong?" richie says and you shake your head as its buried between your hands. "i've j- i have a lot on my mind. can you leave?" you say, pulling your face from your hands to look at him, knowing you look like a mess. it's not like he hasn't seen you cry before, but that was much different than now and you're even more embarrassed that he's seeing you so vulnerable.

"not to be rude, but i'm not going to leave, toots. we don't have to talk, but i really don't think you should be alone." he shrugs, saying it casually as if it wasn't completely out of character for the two of you to hang out. you try not to consider it too much, instead stretching your legs out and gesturing to your skirt. "i spilled earlier." you say weakly but with a lilt of humor in your voice. richie chuckles, nudging your shoulder with his own. "you can shower and wash it when you get home, though."

you sigh, shaking your head as tears fill your vision again. you laugh wetly, "i forgot my keys at home. nobody's there, so i'm..." you sigh, "i'm locked out." the tips of your shoes drag on top of the cement as you laugh regretfully, staring up at the field in front of you and at the groundhog that runs across the ground in the afternoon air.

richie doesn't even laugh like he should have.

"let me take you for a ride." richie says after a few moments, making you turn and look at him. he's looking at you earnestly, head tilted slightly as his curls blow in the breeze. the golden light hits his face in a way that sharpens the angles of his cheekbones and makes him look much more serious than usual. his eyes glow in that same light and he seems so genuine for the first time in his rotten existence that you can't help but whisper, "okay."

it's quiet for a few moments and neither of you move so much as a muscle. the breeze is calm and for some reason, you're much less on edge than you think you should be. richie rises next to you, brushing off his black pants with his palms.

"let's go, sugar." he mutters quietly, holding his hand out for you. you stare at it for two seconds before lightly grabbing it, letting him pull you up quickly.  "where are we going to go?" you ask with a sniffle, your tears finally ceasing. richie drops your hand and you follow him to a beat up chevy truck where he opens the door for you, muttering about how its 'broken' and that you'd never be able to open it yourself. it makes you roll your eyes, but you say nothing in response.

"we're going to get you that shower." he finally says as he starts the car. you look at him disdainfully, but deep down you're just relieved that you're going to be able to get clean as soon as you can.

your forehead rests against your outstretched arm laying out of the open window as your hair whips around you, richie coursing down the road into town quickly. a song you don't recognize plays on his stereo and he sings to it, not at all quietly but not too loud to be entirely obnoxious and you're shocked to hear that he's got a pretty nice voice.

it seems to calm you down, so you turn to watch him through the corner of your eyes, admiring the moment because it's going to be over too soon, and you don't want to go back to how it used to be with richie now that you have these weird feelings. 

the fighting constantly is exhausting; the sex is great, but couldn't you and richie still have that without wanting to murder each other? whatever happens, you can't show richie how you feel - it'll change everything and he'll never let you live it down. you think it might crush you.

but you can't help it that you definitely don't want to murder him currently. you watch him with a small grin.

he's driving with one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road and an easy look on his face as he sings the chorus of the song, somehow giving you butterflies. it feels almost too peaceful, absolutely nothing like the few times you've spent alone time with richie, and you're sure that he could never truly feel a shred of attraction beyond primally physical with someone like you. the thought makes you want to cry all over again -  you bite your lip, wondering if your feelings are brought on by your shitty day, by the mood of the moment, or something else entirely.  

maybe it's just him.

he turns to glance at you, as if sensing your eyes on him and the small grin he sends you as he harmonizes the last line of the song makes you blush, turning your eyes back to the scenery zipping by. you barely hear richie's soft chuckle.

when you pull up to the house, you're not very surprised to see it's massive; but when you follow him inside silently you're shocked at the warmth you feel. a woman sits with a mug and a book at the dining table. she looks like richie, but her hair is straight and in a low bun. she's beautiful.

"hi, mom." richie says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. she smiles at him, "hi, honey. how was work?" he mumbles a response and then you make eye contact with her. she smiles even warmer. "oh hi, i'm maggie." she introduces herself. you smile and wave a bit, "y/n. it's nice to meet you."

richie looks embarrassed, "she's my coworker." he explains, filling up a cup with water. maggie nods, "oh, right! i've heard a lot about you, y/n."

richie looks at the floor with red cheeks and you smile at her, nodding awkwardly as your cheeks also turn red. 

"we're going upstairs, now." he says and you feel like it's more an order to you than a statement to his mom, so you wave at maggie as he drags you towards the stairs, maggie chuckling as you leave the room.

you step into richie's room and it smells overwhelmingly like him, so much so that you feel the weird tickle in your chest and you know if you spend too much time in here it won't be good for you. 

your eyes flicker throughout the room - landing on pictures of him with maggie and who you assume must be his father, of him and his friends, and of random postcards and art prints. paintings of birds as well as other style sketches of mike and several other kids - including richie himself - hang proudly on display, and you’re fairly certain they’re not painted by him, but it warms your heart that he has them. you wonder who did them. 

there's posters, records, and a skateboard in the corner. his floor is slightly messy, an empty energy drink on the windowsill that you see has a crushed cigarette on it. you kind of fall in love with it every second longer you stay in it and you're not sure why - it's just so... richie.

"um, just to clarify, i didn't- i didn't, like, tell my mom about..." he says suddenly, and you smirk at him as he trails off while scratching his neck. you laugh, "no shit, richie. that would be gross." you say. he grins with a shrug, quickly back to his usual self. "you didn't seem to think it was very gross when we actually did it. both times."

you shove him, face red in embarrassment. "can i use your shower, douchebag?" you ask and he laughs as he walks out of his room and leads you to his bathroom. "i fucking hate you." you mutter as you follow, glaring at his shoulders as they shake silently with laughter. after he gives you a towel and some clothes to change into, he tells you he'll be in his room and you lock the door behind him.

you shower quickly, using what you assume is richie's shampoo and smiling like a lovesick idiot when you recognize the scent of strawberry. you're still grinning like that as you walk back into richie's room, hair dripping and your body slightly drowning in his clothes. "hey sexy." he says in a teasing tone, prompting you to flip him off, smile still on your lips. he's sitting on his deckchair, spinning slowly from his feet as he watches you sit on his bed. "um. thank you a lot, richie. i'm not sure what i would have done if you hadn't let me come over." you say sheepishly, looking from side to side. "where's my stuff?"

he shrugs, "put them in the wash. they'll be done soon, we can wait until someone gets back at your house. or- you know, if you need a place to stay, i can take the couch tonight."

your heart flutters, your mind barely even taking the time to be shocked anymore at how he is away from work. you'd just assumed...

and for some reason, the realization of everything that's happened makes your eyes watery again. "-hey, y/n, it's okay." he says softly as you close your eyes and shake your head, "no, no i know, it's fine, i'm just being a child." you mutter, rubbing your eyes furiously. richie laughs, "i've seen you act like a child before, sugar. this isn't one of those times."

this makes you roll your eyes and suddenly you feel better. you laugh almost bitterly, "how do you do that?" you ask quietly, more to yourself than richie. he looks at you curiously, crossing the threshold of his room to sit beside you. "do what?" he asks. you shrug one shoulder, "dunno. you're actually good at making me feel better. i almost hate you for it."

"nah, i know you could never hate me." he jests, but again you know there's a ring of truth to it. "as much as i try." you say almost too honestly, and richie gives you an odd look.

"want to hear something kind of lame?" richie asks, already looking embarrassed. you shift a bit to look at him, ignoring the feeling of him that you get from everything around you - the bed sheets under you, the air moving through the room, the soft light of the moon, the clothes you're wearing, the look he's giving you.

"everything you say is lame." you say weakly, but you don't add on, waiting for him to tell you. he shakes his head with a small laugh. "i get excited for your shifts now." richie admits, his cheeks glowing red, "like, actually get excited to see your stupid face when you clock in."

the honesty of it makes you smile immediately, heartbeat quickening. you're shocked, truly. "it's awful, sugar. you're really throwing a wrench in my playboy status." he adds, making you roll your eyes.

"what playboy status?" you ask, biting your lip to conceal a grin at his words - does he feel the same as you?

he shrugs with a limp hand wave, "you wouldn't understand. doesn't matter, not sure if i'm going to be much of a playboy anymore." he says, voice teasing but a strand of truth laced tightly in between his words. it makes you grin down at the sweats on your body. his sweats. they're soft and cozy against your body, and the shirt smells overwhelmingly like him.

"what, you got someone in mind?" you say, half teasing but yearning to hear your name fall from his lips because you don't know if you could say it yourself. he looks at you, "depends on what she wants from me. she’s a pain in the ass, though, don’t know her very well yet."

oh. you nod, realizing that he actually was talking about someone else and feeling bitter. "well. you're an unbearable asshole, so anybody would be a fool to want you." you say, sounding a lot less joking than you intended. 

his grin falters and a look that is slightly comparable to hurt flashes across his face. he scoffs, shaking his head. 

"doesn't mean much coming from you, does it?" he says with an eye roll and your eyes widen. so much for thinking he liked you. "i was joking." you say, rolling your eyes. he crosses his arms, "if i'm as bad as you think, then that means you're a real sleaze. i mean, you practically beg for my cock every time we're alone, so what does that say about you?" he spits, clenching his jaw and looking away. 

your eyes widen, heart breaking at his words. you really dug yourself a hole this time. "why do you have to be so  fucking insolent all the time? i swear to god, i do not understand you." you say, standing up and wishing for your tears to not reappear.

this day could not get any fucking worse, could it? through your frustration, you start to make your way towards his door, not wanting a single thing that reminds you of him. "you don't understand me? god, y/n, that's so fucking hypocritical. you're so stuck up that when i was trying to do a nice thing because i fucking care ab- what are you doing?!" he hisses, eyes wide as you shove the sweats off your legs, leaving you in your underwear and his shirt.

you throw a glare at him through glossy eyes, face red with embarrassment and mostly anger, "i'm leaving. i don't need your shit, i need to go."

"and where the fuck do you think you're going?" richie says, following you as you walk towards his door.

"anywhere is better than being here with you." you spit, but his arm reaches to slam shut the door. you whirl around to find him much closer than you'd expected, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched in anger. tension fills the room.

"you're just gonna walk down there and dig through my fucking laundry, half naked, in front of my parents?" richie sneers. "no. you're not going anywhere, y/n. i don't care how much of a brat you are, or how much you hate me." he snaps, his breath hitting your face.

something about his words and his tone and most likely the situation you're in makes you swallow and clench your thighs together. damn richie and his hotness, and damn you and your stupid fucking feelings. "fine." you mutter, standing your ground still.

you can almost feel the two of you both fighting against it, but suddenly your lips are on his and hes spinning you, tossing you onto the bed. 

"you're so fucking controlling. i hate it." you mutter as he crashes against you on his mattress. "really, princess? because you seem to like it when my cock is inside you." he spits back, cheeks red with anger. you gulp back a sneer, feeling yourself get wetter by the minute as he thrusts against you. 

"whatever, richie. just fuck me if you're going to fuck me, or i can leave." you say and he growls, looking pissed. he ruts against you and he's hard already. you'd make fun, but you can feel yourself slick through your underwear and his fingers are already pulling off your panties, palming himself as he kisses you harshly. 

"then be fucking good and shut up." he mutters, making you think back to the first time you hooked up. there's a fire between you two as he pulls himself out of his jeans, pumping a few times before running his tip up and down your slit, teasing you. you let out a strangled whimper, trying your hardest not to give in and show him any emotion.

and then he's pushing into you roughly, just as you remember it, and this time you wonder if he can taste your dried tears on your lips as he fucks into you hard. 

you clutch him, letting out moans and stuttering breaths as he moves his hips but then he's pulling you closer to his chest, fingers gripping the material of his shirt and suddenly you can smell him.

you smell him everywhere, all around you and it becomes overbearing and overwhelming as you realize that you can't just hide your feelings for richie anymore, especially not with the way he's holding you against him. it seems way too intimate to be just casual, and you feel the stinging behind your eyes at the realization.

 you let in a gasp as it hits you, tears for the fourth time today streaming down your cheeks. his face is buried in your neck as he fucks into you so you hold your breath, hoping you'll stop crying quicker than he'll notice.

he hits a spot inside you that makes you moan and a sob escapes with it, making richie instantly perk up, eyes wide as he sees your face.

"why are you crying?" he asks, this time with no sneer, obviously able to read that your tears are from a very raw emotion. he stills himself but stays inside you, elbows stilting him up above you as his fluffy curls frame his face.

you shake your head, your chest shaking with tremors. "keep going." you mutter, trying to rock your hips against his as you squeeze your eyes shut, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. at least you won't have to look at him. "richie, keep going."

"no, y/n, what - am i hurting you?" he asks, and he sounds so soft and nervous, a complete 180 from just a few minutes ago. he starts to pull out and you grab him, trying to make him stay, but he pulls all the way out and mutters, "baby, what's going on?"

and you let out another sob at that, not able to express how heartbreaking it is for him to call you that, for him to be so soft when you know all he wants is just a good fuck.

"please talk to me sugar, i'm gettin real nervous." he mutters and that's enough for you to look up at him through tear blurred eyes. he's gnawing on his kiss-bruised lip, looking like he might cry himself. 

you shake your head, sitting up slightly on your elbows and rubbing at your eyes as his shirt on your frame falls over your bare thighs.

"i'm sorry, i'm just - i'm just scared." you mutter, hands shaking. richie's looking at you with wide eyes, propped on his elbow above you. "scared of what?" he asks and you let out a quick, tearful and defeated sigh. "i don't want to make you hate me more. i just - i'm scared because i think i h- i think i have feelings for you. and i’m scared." you mumble it and you watch as his face contorts.

you feel sick for one moment when he looks stoic, and you think he may just do the job for you and kick you out.

but then he smiles a genuine, beautiful smile and you're once again reminded of his unique and beautiful features and you think of how stupid you've been not to see what's been in front of you all this time. the thought makes tears fall from your eyes.

"y/n, doll, i don't... i don’t think you have to be afraid." he says with a shake of his head, sounding slightly nervous himself. you look at him, your heart skipping as he looks back at you, the most serious he's ever been.

"what?" you mutter with wide eyes, trying not to get too excited. he shakes his head, looking just as nervous as you felt, his own eyes welled with unshed tears. 

"-i think about you all the time. i don't know why, i can't understand my attraction to you, but it's there. you've got me. and it sucks, because you're insufferable." he admits.

you're so relieved you could fly. something snaps in your chest and you laugh lightly, hand falling onto his cheek to rub his jaw. "what makes you so high up on your horse? you're awful. and how do you think i feel, thinking about you all the time? its disgusting, rich." you say through a watery smile. he returns that same smile and he chuckles, almost as if in disbelief.

he says nothing, instead just kisses you, which you return happily. he slips his tongue against your lip and you feel that the fire is still there - and as you part your lips and he kisses you harder, tongue slipping through your lips, you groan. 

he pulls away and kisses a trail down to your neck, his hips now rocking slowly into you and making you moan lightly. "you're so fucking beautiful." he mutters into your neck and butterflies flutter in your stomach. you're throbbing in need as he moves against you but he pulls back to smile at you softly. "do you trust me?" he asks with a grin. you lift a playful brow at him, "i know i shouldn't, but i kind of do."

and with that, he leans down so that he can kiss down your chest and rubbing his hands over your bare legs. you watch him until you realize his intention and your stomach swirls with butterflies. "richie, your parents are downstairs. we don't have time" you whisper bashfully, biting back a moan as he lifts up your shirt and kisses your bare stomach.

"they won't bother us." he says dismissively and you're about to argue but he's slowly placing a thumb against your neglected clit and rubbing gently. it feels incredible and you moan right into the shell of his ear as he slowly moves his finger pad. 

he leans back with a grin and you mutter, "okay, rich. if you say so." and then you slip your shirt off and he sits back, pulling his own shirt off. "let me see all of you, baby. i finally get you all to myself." he mutters, rubbing your bare hips. his words send a different kind of shiver down your spine and you smile bashfully, unclipping your bra so that you're splayed out fully naked beneath him.

"shit, doll." he mutters, eyes raking over your heaving chest and down the swell of your stomach and hips and to your legs, his fingers softly trailing after his eyes. "how could i ever hate you?"

you sock him lightly on the shoulder and he laughs quietly, shaking his head. his curls flop on his forehead and you feel that tickle in your chest again so you pull him down to your lips, falling back onto his mattress.

he wastes no time, kissing down your stomach and looking up to you, pulling your legs and draping them over his shoulders. "you want me to taste you, baby?" he asks, mischievous glint in his eyes. you let out a stuttering breath, too aroused to roll your eyes. "please, richie." you whisper, running your fingers through his curls. 

he watches you as his tongue sticks out, licking a stripe up your pussy before swirling on your clit, making you gasp in pleasure.

the feeling is sharp and pleasant as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks lightly, tongue running over your folds. his hands move to hold your thighs as he delves in, your moans quieting as the pleasure increases because you're worried his parents might hear. 

his mouth moves on you expertly, his tongue sliding to fuck up into you and making your hips buck, his nose brushing against your clit. you tug on his hair and he groans, sending vibrations through your body that make your toes curl.

its soft as he rubs your stomach, his tongue working you so well that within a few minutes, you know you’re already about to cum. 

reaching to cup your face, his thumb presses against your lips and you kiss it softly, making smirk in between your thighs as he kitten licks your clit and draws a gasp from your lips. "rich, oh my god, i'm so close." you sigh out, overwhelmed by how good you feel, by the pleasure coursing through you and the affection for the boy you're with.

he just holds you tighter to his face, lapping your juices up and flicking against your clit before sucking, your thighs tightening. "richie, please, i'm gonna-" and but yourself off with a high moan, hand covering your mouth as you hit your high. 

you cum on his tongue, legs shaking as you ride out the first orgasm you'd ever gotten from anyone's mouth and your fingers comb through his hair. "rich, fuck." you mutter in bliss as you come down from your high, full of affection and need.

"you liked that, huh sugar?" he says with a grin as he rises back up to kiss you. you roll your eyes with a small smile, "shut up." you say lightly. 

you're still sensitive as you pull him to line up at your entrance. he presses a soft kiss to your lips and you blush, tasting yourself on him. "you sure, baby?" he mutters, and you nod. "yes, richie. please."

and he finally pushes himself in again, this time easing in slowly and kissing you sweetly. your hands play with his curls as he fills you and you moan when he's finally buried to the hilt, still sensitive enough that you clench tightly around him. his hand snakes to pin yours above your head and he holds onto it, keeping you in his hand as he starts to pump into you. 

this time it's much slower and with much more intention as he thrusts into you, the first minute moving in very shallow thrusts until you start moving your hips against his in need.

he picks up the pace then and it makes you grasp his shoulder as he thrusts into you, hitting a new angle that makes you let out whimpers every few moments. the feeling of richie stretching you out slowly and hitting a place deep inside you that you didn't realize you needed makes you smile into his kiss. 

“look at you, sugar. fuck, you’re so pretty taking my cock like this. god.” he mutters, moaning as he fucks you. 

his hand is still holding yours. "you're so amazing." he mutters into your ear, "taking me so well, baby. so good for me." he says, kissing your ear and you whine, dragging your nails down his back in pleasure.

"all mine. i get you all for myself, huh?" he says as he thrusts into you at a passionately slow pace, your hands holding on to his shoulders as you hook your ankles around his hips. "yes, fuck, rich. all yours," you mumble, feeling your second orgasm coming on and chasing it as much as you can.

"please, you feel so good." you beg, unsure what you're asking for but knowing that richie will satisfy it. his hands fall to your hips, "i'm close, sugar." he mutters and he thrusts a bit harder, hitting a spot inside you that has you keening loudly. he chuckles, kissing you and muttering, "shh, sweetheart, we have to be quiet."

you nod, eyes closing as he thrusts into you, one hand slipping up to roll your nipple softly and making you moan his name. as he sucks a hickey on to your neck, his thrusts begin to get sloppy and you clench around him. “god, you were made for me, baby. fuck, takin�� it so well.” 

you hit your second orgasm and you softly bite into richie's shoulder, his own moan at the feeling of you clenching around him making you turn red. you feel his hips stutter and he groans as he releases inside of you. 

waves of pleasure course through your body and you shake with exhaustion, a blissful feeling coming over you as richie rides out both of your highs, chest pressed against yours and breathing your name into your neck.

he pulls out of you slowly, rubbing your stomach as he kisses you and rolls onto his mattress next to you. you stare at each other and you know you must look like a mess - your hair is still slightly damp from the water, your freshly washed skin is now sticky with sweat, and your face has tear tracks on it, and yet richie mumbles, "you're fuckin' stunning, y/l/n. it’s insane."

you turn red and chuckle, "you're pretty fucking incredible yourself, tozier." he smiles at you, pulling you closer. his fingers dance along your skin and you squirm as he mutters, "no, that's all you, toots."

his fingers, you now realize, are deliberately tickling you, and you let out a few winded laughs, swatting at his hands as the sensation of him on your skin has you giggling.

"y/n! why are you laughing so much?” he asks, but he's releasing little laughs himself, his breath hitting your skin. you can't help the screams of laughter, knowing his parents downstairs can hear you.

"stop, richie, st-stop!" you mutter as his long fingers tickle your sides. "i'm not doing anything!" he mutters through a chuckle. his eyes are soft as he stops his motions and just stares at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

he sighs, looking happy, "god, please be mine. i think i'll die if i can't do this with you forever."

your heart swells at the words and you blush, your hands falling onto his cheeks. "of course i will, rich." you mumble, kissing him soundly. his arms encircle your waist and he pulls you towards him, kissing you back lovingly as he pinches your ass cheek lightly. you pull back with a small giggle, "rich!"

he shrugs with a smug smirk and you wack his arm lightly, "you're a real rude boy, you know." you tease, and he shrugs, "you seem to like it." with that, he kisses you softly.

and yeah, you definitely do.

[psychosistr]

Talk to Me- Chapter 3

Summary: They’ve reached the restaurant and everything’s going great so far!...So why is Steelbeak so nervous about messing everything up? Maybe Domino can help him loosen up a little.

Notes: This scene was so much fun to write- I love writing date stories far too much x3

-First Chapter-

As far as Steelbeak was concerned, the ride to the restaurant had been a complete success. Flirting with Domino had been easy, natural, and fun- and that stroke of luck with the song on the radio had resulted in a surprisingly romantic moment that he honestly couldn’t have topped even if he’d planned it himself. They’d been seated quickly without having to wait, and had even gotten a great table by one of the windows with a stunning view of the moonlit bay in a corner of the restaurant with no one else around. All things considered, it was a great start to the night.

Which, unfortunately only made him more anxious about doing something to mess it all up.

He kept trying to tell himself that things were different this time- that things between him and Domino were better now- but, in the back of his mind, he kept thinking about how all of his attempts at conversation last time they went out to eat had ultimately messed everything up and left him with nothing but a bill to pay and quiet, lonely car ride home. It was a stupid thing to worry about, and he knew it, but he was so completely out of his element that it left him feeling more than a little unnerved.

It wasn’t the going out part he wasn’t used to, mind you. He’d gone out on plenty of “dates” before and those had gone well enough to earn him several “girlfriends” that were so charmed by him that they’d wait literally MONTHS just for a chance to see him again.

No, it was the idea of going out on an actual date with someone he was actually interested in seeing again that had his nerves frazzled.

Every other date he’d been on before had been the same routine: Dinner and drinks. Some sweet talk that he didn’t really mean. Drive back to his place. Have a little fun. And then he’d send them on their way with the usual “Don’t call me, I’ll call you”. Lather, rinse, repeat- the same thing every time.

With Domino, though, things were different. The other man was too sharp to fall for his usual sweet talk (though flirting was definitely still on the table). Steelbeak also wanted more than just a one night fling- he wanted to go out with him again in the very near future, or maybe even just hang out more outside of work. He wanted-

“-something wrong?” The loon’s voice cut through his thoughts instantly.

“Huh?” Steelbeak blinked and looked up from his half-touched plate of seafood paella, unaware that he’d spaced out. “Sorry, ya say somethin’?”

“……” There was that stare he’d become all too familiar with over the past few months- the look that told him the shorter bird was mentally picking him apart and analyzing him with unsettling accuracy. “Something’s on your mind and it’s stressing you out.” And he’d hit the nail right on the head, as always. “What is it?”

Darn, he really couldn’t hide anything from this guy, could he?

With a frustrated sigh, Steelbeak frowned and ran a hand over his comb. “Is it really that obvious?” A nod from his partner accompanied by his deadpan stare told him that, yes, it WAS that obvious. “You’re gonna think it’s stupid..”

“Probably.” Wow, he didn’t miss a beat with that, did he? “But I still want to hear it.”

Well, he thought, might as well spit it out. Otherwise the darker bird would just keep giving him that look until he did. “Can ya ‘least promise NOT t’ laugh?”

The edges of the other’s beak curled slightly in a smirk as he shrugged. “Maybe.” That was probably the best he was going to get.

Figuring that he wouldn’t be able to get it all out if he was looking into those seemingly all-seeing red eyes, Steelbeak chose instead to keep his gaze on the bay. “…..I..ain’t exactly used t’ datin’ like this.” His eyes followed the rolling motion of a wave as it crashed on the beach before receding. “Don’t get me wrong, I like goin’ out with a cute dame much as the next guy, but I don’t even bother rememberin’ their names half the time. We go out, I tell ‘em what they wanna hear, and it works good enough t’ get ‘em home with me.” He blindly waved his hand in Domino’s general direction. “But, with YOU, I don’t even know how t’ start a freakin’ conversation. If I try talkin’ to ya like the rest, it’d probably be charmin’, but it’s not gonna be real- my brain ain’t exactly wired for honesty, y’know? So I’m tryin’ real hard t’ think of somethin’ t’ talk about ‘sides small talk ‘cause I wanna say somethin’, but I don’t wanna look like an idiot for tryin’ too hard.” He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh and shook his head. “Aaaaaannd I just heard myself out loud: I’m tryin’ too hard t’ NOT try too hard..guess that don’t make a whole lotta sense, huh?”

When he finally turned his attention back to his date, he saw that the other bird had reached across the table with an extremely small, unmarked vial of something and currently had his hand angled over the rooster’s glass of water- clearly preparing to drip whatever was inside of the glass vial into his drink. “……” Realizing he’d been spotted, Domino slowly leaned back into his seat properly and set his hands back down in his lap, maintaining eye contact the whole time as if that would hide what he’d been about to do.

“…Dom..what’s that?” Steelbeak asked his partner incredulously.

“…Nothing…” He was clearly lying through his teeth and trying to maintain his poker face, despite being caught red-handed.

“We both know I ain’t buyin’ that.” Steelbeak looked down at the table obscuring the loon’s hands from his view. “I know you ain’t tryin’ t’ slip me a mickey, so spill it.”

“Fine..” The poker face finally fell away and Domino’s hand came back up to rest on the table with the vial still between his fingers, surprising the rooster with the dejected, guilty frown on his face. “It’s a truth serum.”

Steelbeak’s eyes widened in surprise at the admission. “Why the heck do ya have truth serum on ya??”

The darker bird shrugged a little. “I like to be prepared for anything- it comes in handy for emergency interrogations.” He set the vial on the table between them so that Steelbeak could see it better. “I thought that, if you’re uncomfortable because it’s hard for you to speak honestly with me, then a drop or two might help.”

The tiny glass container sat on the table, looking so small and insignificant, but Steelbeak knew better than to assume things when it came to drugs and chemicals in their line of work. “..That stuff really works..?”

“I’ve found it to be effective more than 98% of the time.” Domino replied. “It’s fast acting, too- most people notice the effects almost instantly.”

“……Eh, what the heck?” Steelbeak grabbed the vial and, instead of putting a few drops into his glass as Domino had been about to, he popped the drip-cap off and brought it directly to his beak to chug half of the colorless liquid in one go. “!!” He immediately regretted his decision- the liquid was oily and tasted like someone had boiled down a bottle of mouthwash into a loose syrup. After grabbing his napkin and coughing into it for a solid minute, as well as chugging his entire glass of water to weaken the nearly medicinal taste still coating his tongue, he set the half-empty vial back down in the middle of the table. “Ugh, this stuff better be worth it..”

Domino picked the vial up and put it away after screwing the cap back on. “You know, two drops would have been more than enough. Don’t blame me if you start spilling F.O.W.L.’s most highly guarded secrets.”

“Figured I’d need all the help I could get.” With the horribly minty taste finally cleared from his pallet, Steelbeak took a moment to think about how he felt. “Y’know..I do feel calmer. Wow, you weren’t kiddin’ ‘bout that stuff- it works REAL fast.”

The darker bird smiled a bit, but there was something sly about that look in his eyes that Steelbeak couldn’t quite place. “Let’s test it out: What would you like to talk about?”

“I wanna know more about YOU.” The words fell from Steelbeak’s mouth with surprising ease. “We don’t talk ‘bout much on the clock, so, I wanna know, what sorta stuff do ya do for fun?”

“Hm, that’s pretty tame, but a good place to start, I suppose.” Domino picked up his fork, idly spinning it between his thumb and index finger as he thought the question over. “Well..I read, mostly. I also enjoy going to the shooting range- it’s a fun way to exercise and keep my skills sharp. During the winter I like to go for walks in the snow or even ice skating, if it’s cold enough. Oh, and sometimes I just like to go driving along the coast at night since it’s so quiet.”

“Sounds like a good time.” Steelbeak smiled a little, a general feeling of satisfaction coming over him. He couldn’t believe how easy that had been! He felt more relaxed now, like he had when they talked in the break room the other day, or after their mission to raid and blow up a S.H.U.S.H. base. “Never woulda pegged ya for a skater, though. Found any good places ‘round here for that?”

“The lake in the park was nice, I went there last time it snowed.” The loon had a soft smile on his face as he glanced out the window, clearly remembering the day fondly. “It was in the middle of the night, so there was no one else crowding the ice or crashing into me.”

Ah, there it was- that rare but genuine and gentle smile that made Steelbeak’s heart melt a little. “Maybe I’ll tag along next time. Haven’t gone skatin’ in ages.”

Red eyes looked back up at him, that smile growing a little more. “I’d like that.”

For a moment, they stayed like that, just smiling contently at one another.

Then, Steelbeak noticed, Domino’s shoulders began to shake the way they did when he was trying not to laugh out loud about something. “What’s so funny?”

“Well, it’s just..” Domino’s smile was turning into a grin as he continued resisting the ever-growing urge to laugh. “You know that truth serum you drank?”

“Yeah, what’s in that junk, anyway?” Steelbeak asked, his curiosity piqued now. “I mean, I’m glad it worked, but it tasted like melted toothpaste.”

Domino’s body was practically trembling, as was his voice, but he managed to get out a simple reply. “It’s peppermint oil.”

“…What?” Steelbeak blinked, unsure if he’d heard the other bird properly.

“You just drank a bottle of peppermint oil.” And the last of the loon’s resolve crumbled, allowing him to openly laugh at the baffled rooster.

“What?!” Steelbeak sputtered for a moment. He’d seriously just chugged freaking PEPPERMINT OIL?! After a few seconds of his partner laughing at him, the rooster finally groaned and let his head fall forward to hit a clear spot on the table. “Can’t believe I fell for that…why the heck would ya even HAVE that..?” Somehow it seemed more believable that the other bird would carry truth serum on him then peppermint oil.

Wiping a few laughter-induced tears from the corners of his eyes, Domino’s smile didn’t go down one bit. “Like I said, I like to be prepared for anything. Peppermint is very versatile- it can relieve nausea, help with indigestion, or just be used to freshen breath after a less than fragrant meal. I’ve also used it as a fire accelerant before.” He took notice of the way the lighter bird's shoulders were starting to tremble and his grin lessened slightly. “Hey, are you ok-?”

Before he could finish his question, Steelbeak sat up with a huge grin of his own spread across his face and started belting out his distinctively nasal laugh. “Friggin’ peppermint oil! Oh, that was good!” He had to wipe away tears of his own so he could look his partner in the eyes again. “This is why I like ya, Deedee: You keep me guessin’. I never know what t’ expect with ya. You’re exciting.”

Domino’s own smile returned. “You’re certainly not having any trouble being honest now, are you?”

Steelbeak shrugged, the huge grin still practically splitting his face. “Yeah, but it’s gonna be easier on my ego if I just keep pretendin’ it’s ‘cause of a truth serum. So, let’s keep talkin’ before I lose my nerve again- sound good?” He raised his almost empty glass towards his partner expectantly.

Domino picked up his own half-full glass and tapped it to the other’s. “That sounds good to me. Let’s talk.”

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: Just to clear up any possible confusion: Domino WAS trying to get caught spiking Steelbeak’s drink so he could bluff and get him to try it willingly- the guy knew what he was doing x3 Also, by “peppermint oil”, I’m referring to edible peppermint extract that’s used in cooking- he didn’t make Steelbeak drink an essential oil because that is dangerous xP

[verai-marcel]

Inescapable Rapture (RDR2 Fanfic, Ch. 3 of 5, 18+ ONLY)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Find it on AO3 here.

Chapter 3: Bound Tighter

Notes: You fall deeper.

WC: 2217

A week had passed since you started living here, and it was also your day off. In the past few days since Arthur had taken you in your office, his aura had eased, becoming more like a guard dog rather than a ferocious wolf.

But anytime he came to get you, or if he was passing by, and he saw a male patient taking more than just a polite look at you? He would saunter up to you and ask how you were doing, see if you needed anything, and gruffly remind you, for the other man's benefit, that if anyone gave you trouble, he'd break their face.

Your male patients have been a little skittish around you ever since. And your female patients have been a bit jealous. Some of them come in hoping for a glimpse of him. So yesterday, partially out of spite, you slowly did your chores, so you'd have to stay just a little longer, making Arthur wait uncomfortably outside as the other women flirted with him. You could tell he just wanted to get away, but he had to stay nice.

That night, Arthur had punished you hard for making him wait, making you beg for your pleasure. You decided not to mess with him after that, and planned on doing your work as quickly as possible so you could go home on time.

You woke up this morning, sore but refreshed. You had slept in, and the sun was shining brightly through the window. Getting dressed and leaving the bedroom, you saw a plate of bread and cheese on the table, next to a note with Arthur's surprisingly beautiful handwriting.

Make sure you eat. See you tonight.

You scoffed; after the first few days when he noticed how hungry you got after work, he had asked if you had eaten lunch. You had shaken your head, and almost everyday after that, he had brought you a snack around noon, and made sure you ate it instead of putting it aside like you did the first couple of times. He was strangely considerate, in a very domineering way.

As you ate some of the cheese (it was tasty and fresh), you thought maybe this would be a good day to try to escape. Then you quickly shook your head. It was just one more week. And you hated to admit to yourself that living with Arthur had more pros than cons. You nibbled on some of the bread and you looked back on the week. True, he had ravished you every night. And sometimes quickly in the morning too. But he had also taken care of you, massaged your sore muscles, and cooked for you whenever you looked tired. It was definitely not how you imagined this experience would go, but it was not unpleasant.

You went outside to see his garden, overgrown with weeds, but still healthy and filled with flowers and herbs. You decided to do some work so you didn't have to think about why you stayed.

***

You barely noticed the day passing. You had taken breaks, snacked on all the cheese and bread, and taken a tomato straight from the vine. It was relaxing, just to be tending a garden, picking at the weeds while you enjoyed the outdoors. The birds were chirping, a light breeze was flowing by, and it was an all around peaceful day.

So engrossed in your gardening, you didn't notice Arthur coming up to see you. His horse was already hitched; he must have come from the other side. He called your name softly a couple of times before you thought to look up.

He walked up and kneeled beside you. Reaching up to wipe a bit of dirt from your face, he smiled.

“Kitten,” he crooned.

You immediately leaned closer to him, your lips parting. He reached for the back of your head, fisting your hair and pulling you in for a hot kiss. You wrapped your arms around him and let him push you down onto the ground, covering you with his large body. His back muscles felt so good under your hands. He started to unbutton your dress, working his way down your body until your dress was completely open, and he flung the fabric aside to expose your body to the air. You hadn't bothered with undergarments today, and seeing the bulge in his pants, you knew that Arthur approved.

“You surprise me,” he said with a lusty grin. “Couldn't wait for me to come back, huh?”

Grabbing your breasts and giving them a nice squeeze, he started to stroke and tease your body, tracing a sensuous line down your body with his fingers. You gasped as Arthur sucked on your neck, licked a hot trail from your collarbone, down your nipples, your belly, and then scraped your inner thigh with his stubble before licking your clit. He sucked on your sensitive nub, making you cry out and thrash your body, your hands digging into his hair.

He pulled back and laughed darkly, wiping your juices from his mouth and chin. Kneeling in front of you with his legs spread a bit, he began slowly unbuttoning his fly, and he gave you a sultry grin as your eyes went straight to his cock.

“You want this?”

“Yes, sir.”

He laughed again. “Oh kitten, you say such nice things,” he praised as he got you up on your hands and knees, your face level with his shaft. You opened your mouth and he shoved in, not waiting for you to move. As he began to fuck your mouth, he leaned over you to slip his fingers into your wet slit, pumping them in and out of you deeply.

You gagged around him, looking up at him with tears forming in your eyes when he pushed a little too deep. He backed off and caressed your face, shifting his angle so he could keep thrusting into your mouth without choking you.

“I want to be rougher with you. Think you can handle it?” he asked casually as he slowed his movements and took his fingers out of you. You whined a little, and he pet your head to soothe you like one would a cat.

You were lapping at his cock, not really thinking about what he was asking, so you just nodded mindlessly.

Then he suddenly grabbed the back of your head and shoved himself deeper into your throat, making you choke. After a few moments, he pulled out of your mouth completely, letting you cough and catch your breath while he moved to kneel behind you. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up, his other hand on your lower back, keeping you arched, the tip of him nudging your opening.

“So wet for me, kitten. You like it rough?” he asked you in a low, gravelly tone.

“Maybe,” you mumbled.

He pulled your hair tighter. “Shouldn't you show me the proper respect as your keeper?”

“Then keep me properly,” you challenged, turning your head to stare at him defiantly.

You saw the look in his eyes shift, from playfully rough to a darker, dominating glare. He pushed you onto the ground and shoved his cock into you in one swift move. Feeling his full weight on top of you, forcing the air out of your lungs, he violently thrust into you.

“Learn your place, little thief,” he growled into your ear as he held down your arms, lifting himself up so he could angle himself deeper into you.

You moaned loudly; he was hitting a spot so deep in you that you were pretty sure you'd be sore for days. But it felt so good, just giving in, letting him take you like this. You didn’t have to think, only feel, and it was strangely freeing.

“Don’t forget, I caught you,” he rasped, his breath tickling your earlobe. “That means I get to punish you. However. I. Like.” The last few words were each punctuated by a hard thrust, crushing you and making you cry out with each shove. Then he wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled upwards as he started rutting you so hard and so fast that you didn’t have the air to scream. You started to see stars, and your vision tunneled.

Arthur let go of you just as you were starting to get light headed. He pulled out of you and flipped you over with hardly any effort at all, and fell upon you again, forcing his way back inside of you while you let out high pitched moans. That animalistic ferocity returned, with him burying his face into your neck, biting your collarbone as he rammed into you, making your hips bounce off the ground. You wrapped your arms and legs around him and clawed at his back, but he quickly grabbed your wrists and held you down, making you completely helpless under him. He looked down at you, a feral gleam in his eyes.

“Mine,” he grunted while bending down to kiss you, devouring you as he bit your lower lip. You kissed him back viciously, your own savagery coming to the forefront as you sucked on his tongue. You felt yourself transform under his relentless pounding, like he was bringing out something primal within you. Throwing your head back, you were caught by your climax, a flood of pleasure pouring through your body as an untamed sound came from your raw throat. Your hips rolled up towards his as you rode your pleasure out, squeezing around his cock and gasping heavily as you came down from your frenzied high.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped, pulling out of you barely in time and coming on your thighs. He groaned as he stroked every last drop out of him, breathing deeply. He gave a shuddering groan when he looked down at you, naked except for his spend all over your thighs, painted around your slit.

“You went wild there,” he observed with a small grin after a few minutes of both of you catching your breaths.

You just laughed. You weren’t sure what came over you in those last few moments. It was wild, for sure. But you did learn one thing about yourself: you came harder when he was rough with you. Feeling embarrassed by the thought of being one of those deviant women, you peered up at Arthur. He just gazed at you with an affectionate smile.

“You were real good. Really, really good.”

He gathered you and your dress up in his arms. “I’ll clean you up, sweetheart. My fault you’re such a mess now,” he said, kissing your cheek. You let out an uncharacteristic giggle, you were so giddy from the afterglow.

He actually carried you a bit farther past the house towards the stream that ran from the mountains. The water was cold, but clean and fresh, and you drank some as he wet his bandana and wiped you down. He kissed your bruises and nuzzled your neck once you were all clean. He took you back home, making sure you were okay to cook before heading back out to clean himself off and to collect more water for the basin.

You hummed softly as you cooked, and you realized something: you wouldn’t mind staying here for a little while longer.

***

After dinner, Arthur cleaned up the dishes with your help, and took you to bed. You crawled under the covers and got cozy as he took his day clothes off.

You sat up to watch him, and when he looked back at you, he froze, staring at you. You blinked, curious. Your hair was probably a mess, your chemise was hanging off one shoulder, your body tired and there were probably love bites and bruises all over you.

“What is it?” you finally asked, in a soft voice.

He reached out and held your face tenderly in his hands. “I’ve always wanted to draw you. Your gentle curves, your soft skin, your shining smile.” He pulled you into a warm embrace, grazing his lips against your skin. Then he pulled back, took the journal out of his satchel, and sat at the foot of the bed, looking at you.

“Stay still for a bit.”

You did.

A little while later, you weren’t sure how long, he stopped sketching and lifted up his journal to look critically at his drawing. Then he closed the journal without showing you.

“Can I see?” you asked.

“It ain’t good enough,” he said.

“Please?”

He paused. You leaned closer to him.

“Please, Arthur.”

He relented, and opened the page to show you.

You held your breath. The man had a talent, for there you were, rendered lovingly in pencil, much more beautiful than you ever saw yourself in a mirror.

“Is this how you see me?”

“Doesn’t do you justice,” he mumbled, closing the journal again and putting it away.

“It’s beautiful,” you said earnestly.

“That’s because you are,” he replied before getting into bed next to you and blowing out the lantern. He pulled you close and nuzzled your face again.

Your felt a warmth in your heart, and you heard him mumble something unintelligible as you both fell asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

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

Part 4 is here.

[intergalacticwanderer]

Never Give Up On You

It’s Lewis with the memory issues instead of Vivi, but the road to saving him is going to be a bumpy one.

(Also available on Ao3)

First Chapter / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

***

Chapter 7

The drive home was much slower.

Arthur watched the road silently, one hand on the steering wheel and streetlights flickering through the van windows. Between taking Vivi to the hospital, making sure the Peppers got checked into a hotel, and the general “Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker what the hell just happened” nerves he was left pretty well strung out. Add that to the whole nightmare that had started this all and he had finally managed to circle around from “nervous wreck” to “dead to the world.”

Still a form of awful, but at least it was a change of pace.

He glanced over to Vivi. Her bandaged left hand sat in her lap, surrounded by notes and supplies while her other hand held a string, the stalagmite fragment dangling from the end. It swung with the motion of the van, but, ever so slightly, it pointed more towards the back and where they had come from.

“Take the next turn,” said Vivi, holding up the string and staring intently at the stalagmite. Arthur did so, the turn signal clicking, but soon enough Vivi groaned.

“Another dud?”

“I don’t get it,” she said, setting the fragment down on her lap and her head hitting the head rest with a soft thump. “It’s obviously pointing somewhere, but any time we try to follow it, it changes. What gives?”

“Maybe it needs some time to... I don’t know, calibrate?” Out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw Vivi shrug.

“Maybe? It’s just...” she sighed. “I don’t want to go home with nothing,” she said quietly.

Arthur didn’t have much of an answer to that.

“I think,” Mystery said after a few moments, “We should all go home and rest.” It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d left the Pepper house, and his head was resting on his front paws, ears drooping. “I would like to go home, at the very least.” He’d made the choice to avoid everyone else for the night, for what he’d stated to be personal reasons. All of them were a wreck at this point.

Vivi was silent before she nodded. “I... okay. Yeah, you’re right.” She started to pack up her things and Arthur felt his shoulders un-tense. As much as he wanted to help, Arthur knew he was pretty much running on fumes and anxiety. It was time to go home.

Taking another corner Arthur followed the last street back to their apartment, the sun peeking over the horizon just as they parked. None of them really talked as they got out of the van. Seeing the amount of stuff she had Arthur grabbed a few of Vivi’s supplies, following behind as they walked up the steps and into the apartment, Vivi locking the door behind them. He stood there, not quite sure which direction to go.

“I can take those,” Vivi said, freeing up his arms as Arthur gave a quick “Thanks.” That was all he managed to say before he stumbled over to his room, just barely getting off his shoes and arm before he fell into bed, too far gone to care about anything else.

***

Silence.

Darkness.

The only sound Arthur could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears and the whisper of breath in and out of his throat. Looking down he found himself rendered in the gray halftones of twilight. Visible, but not enough light for his eyes to pick up any color.

(Was there any color here?)

His surroundings were dark and empty, and strangely blank. Not the pure pitch blackness of a cave, or an abandoned basement but more like... the blank screen of a TV after it had been turned off. Something should be there, and it wasn’t.

“Hello?”

Arthur winced, his voice cracking at the end, but several seconds passed and there was no answer. Not even an echo. The sound was just swallowed up in dead air.

... Okay then.

He waited. Nothing happened.

Well, he didn’t know for sure nothing else was going to happen. Or that he wasn’t going to walk into danger.

More waiting. Still nothing.

He didn’t even know what this place was. Even the temperature was weirdly absent, no particular feeling of hot or cold. Or smell. Or movement.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

A strangled noise of frustration came out of Arthur’s throat and he ran a hand through his hair, tapping the toe of his shoe against the ground. Either there was nothing here and he was wasting his time, or there was something, and he was just making himself an easy target. He didn’t like either of those. Time for a change.

Picking a random direction Arthur took a deep breath, and began to jog.

***

Vivi was confused.

She was back at the Pepper household, this time in the kitchen, sun shining through the windows and birds chirping outside in the early morning. On the counter was a drying rack filled with dishes from the morning’s breakfast, and a few small pastries were still in a bowl on the table. No sign of the destruction from the night before. She looked out the window.

Spring flowers bloomed on the trees.

“Oh! Vivi!”

Vivi nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around to find Lewis standing in the entrance to the kitchen, wearing an apron over his clothes and holding a cup of coffee. His face split into a wide grin. “I didn’t expect to see you this morning! Come on, we can finish the pastries.”

***

Several minutes later and there was still no change.

Arthur had alternated between walking and jogging the longer things had stretched on, eventually just walking once things had settled into monotony. Creepy or not, this was starting to get annoying.

Grumbling under his breath Arthur turned around to start heading back the way he came - and fell backwards in fright, screaming.

***

Even as she sat down slowly Lewis seemed oblivious to recent events, humming as he grabbed some clean plates from the cabinet with his free hand and came back over to the table, setting them down with a flourish in front of the pastries. “I know there’s not much left, but have as many as you’d like!” He sat down across from her, cupping his hands around his coffee mug. “There’ll be plenty more where these came from later today.”

“... Are you feeling alright?” In fact, he looked better than alright - if it weren’t for the trees outside that showed this was a dream, she could have sworn she was talking to Lewis come back to life.

He blinked at the question. “Never better. Why?”

“Nothing really,” she said, stuffing a pastry into her mouth to avoid answering any follow up questions.

Lewis smiled as he watched her, resting his chin on his hand. “Well you’re being mysterious this morning.”

She shrugged, grabbing another pastry right after she finished the first. Lewis went ahead and sipped at his coffee as she ate.

“So,” he said, setting down his mug, “When are we meeting up with Arthur?”

Vivi choked mid bite.

***

Lewis just... stood there. Greyed out, skull bare, and eye sockets completely blank.

“L-Lewis?”

No response.

Arthur shakily got back to his feet, heart fluttering in his chest as the ghost remained completely still. It seemed like the “nightmare” part of this had finally arrived, but like everything else it felt... off.

He waved a hand in a few feet in front of the skull. No response.

What was it with this nightmare and being vaguely creepy?

Arm coming back to his side Arthur slowly walked to stand behind the ghost, hugging himself in the complete silence.

The skull rotated to face him.

***

Lewis stood next to her, patting her back and Vivi mumbling, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” as she coughed out the few crumbs that had gone down the wrong way.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said, covering her mouth with a balled hand for one last cough. “Just eating too fast, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

Vivi glanced at Lewis through the corner of her eye. As much as she’d tease him about being a loveable lug, he wasn’t stupid.

“I’m just... surprised you brought up Arthur, is all.”

Once again, Lewis blinked in confusion, giving a slight tilt to his head. “He’s... our best friend? You are really working the mystery angle this morning Vi,” he said, laughing and shaking his head before reaching over to ruffle her hair.

“Hey, come on!” Vivi said, giggling as she tried to push his hand away while he messed up her bangs. “And I lead a group called Mystery Skulls, I’m allowed to be mysterious.” Even through the giggles, she had to fight down a bubbling unease. Had his memory problems really gotten this bad?

Lewis pulled his hand back, grinning. “If you say so, oh mysterious one.” Vivi watched as he stood up and stretched, looking back at her with an almost impossible fondness. “Is there anything else you want right now?”

“Some coffee would be nice,” Vivi said, tamping down all the other things that sprang into her mind. Such knowing what was going on right now. Or knowing that he and everything else would be okay. But those were long term things, and for now all she could for was watch Lewis as he nodded and started to make the coffee, her brain trying to work through this new mystery.

***

Arthur’s heartrate increased as he backed up, holding his arms out in front of him and the skull’s gaze following each of his movements. Front, back, right, left, every single one was followed unerringly by a blank eye socket stare. Okay, things had just gone from vaguely creepy to extremely creepy. As if on cue, something else began to happen - and Arthur realized he had spoken too soon.

Slowly, stiffly, and almost like a plastic doll the body turned in place, limbs locked and unmoving as it once again lined up with the position of its skull. A buzzing, crackling noise started to build. Static. Starting soft, but growing louder, louder still as Lewis stood there, unchanging, unmoving, so loud Arthur couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel, he -

***

Arthur woke up.

[andromeda---galaxy]

here to stay is a new bird

Philip wakes up slowly, and is instantly relieved the night before wasn’t plagued with nightmares. He can’t remember his dreams, but Lukas is here, breathing softly. Philip feels pretty okay.

 The air outside seeps through the window next to Philip’s bed, nipping at his exposed skin and making him tremble. He’s already got multiple layers on, but it seems to seek out the spots where his clothes bunch up, trying to burrow into his bones. Lukas makes a little noise and moves lazily in his sleep, pulling Philip closer to him. Philip still has his eyes closed but he can imagine the look on Lukas’s face, his brows furrowed as he yanks the blankets up one-handed and pulls them up and around Philip’s frame. Philip smiles to himself.

 “Closer,” Lukas grunts. “Too cold.”

Philip jams his leg further between both of Lukas’s legs, plastering himself against his side.

 Lukas groans, still trying to arrange the blanket around them both. He kicks the comforter up with the tips of his toes but it only pools around their knees. Lukas sighs and strains to grab it with the hand that isn’t around Philip’s shoulder, huffing before he finally does it, hauling it up and over them. “Closer,” Lukas says again.

 Philip snorts. “If I get any closer I’ll be on top of you.”

 “Perfect,” Lukas says.

 Philip smiles again and scoots so he’s half on top of Lukas, rubbing his chest. He doesn’t feel cold anymore, the blanket and comforter trapping their body heat and locking out the biting freeze of the outside. Philip is wearing his favorite hoodie of Lukas’s and Lukas picks at one of the little threads coming loose in the arm.

 “What time is it?” Lukas whispers, stretching a little bit, his hand tracing a well-worn path up and down Philip’s back.

 Philip pops one eye open. His vision is blurry, but he can make out the blinking red numbers. “A little after nine,” he says.

 “More sleep,” Lukas says, nuzzling Philip’s forehead. “Warm.”

 Philip knows they’re supposed to go to town later with Helen and Gabe, but that’s later later. They can skip breakfast, sleep in. It’s getting warmer and warmer.

 ~

 Helen and Gabe are a couple paces ahead of Philip and Lukas as they walk down the street, the wind rippling Helen’s scarf and casting it back over her shoulder. They’re holding hands just like Philip and Lukas are, and every time Helen laughs Philip can’t help but smile.

 “Philip,” Helen says. “Tell him he needs to tell me already.”

 “Gabe,” Philip says. “Are you still playing this game?”

 “Are you holding out on telling her what you want for Christmas?” Lukas asks.

 “How’d you guess?” Gabe asks, laughing as Helen pokes him in the stomach.

 “The day is rapidly approaching,” Helen says. “And he’s insisting on being difficult. For fun.”

 “I already got your gift,” Lukas says, leaning in and whispering in Philip’s ear. He plants a quick kiss to his cheek and pulls away, smiling proudly.

 “Oh yeah?” Philip asks, well aware of this, because Lukas hid the camera and its lenses in his closet and Philip found them when he was looking for a jacket. He nearly had a heart attack and tried not to wake Lukas up tip-toeing back to the bed, smiling hard as he cuddled against his chest. Philip probably won’t ever get used to Lukas paying for so much shit, a lot of it expensive, but Lukas is dead-set and it’s hard to make him stop. Philip tries to make up for it sometimes, paying for little things here and there out of his allowance, but Lukas is relentless. Philip got him a new helmet and riding jacket with Helen and Gabe’s help, and Philip can’t wait to see the look on his face.

 “Hey, we’re gonna go in here real quick,” Lukas says, tugging on Philip’s hand. They duck into a little clothing store and Lukas makes a bee-line for a rack in the corner with a bunch of Christmas sweaters. He looks at Philip, grinning. “You need one of these.”

 Philip scoffs, looking at the closest one. There are about twenty wreaths woven on it with snowmen in the middle. It’s bright red.

 “Do you, like…like me at all?” Philip asks, cocking his head.

 Lukas holds it up to him. It’s way too big, would hang on him like this old gray raincoat he used to have when he was younger, but Lukas’s eyes light up and he nods over and over. “Adorable,” he says. “Imagine how warm.”

 Philip looks down at the wreaths from this angle. “I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

 “What if I get one too?” Lukas asks, grinning. “Matching. Matching ugly sweaters.”

 “Really?” Philip asks, raising his eyebrows.

 Lukas leans in, pressing their mouths together in a quick kiss. “Christmas morning. Both of us in ugly sweaters opening presents. Hundreds of ridiculous sweater selfies.”

 They’d already discussed Christmas. Lukas is gonna sleep over on Christmas Eve and spend most of Christmas with them. Bo is gonna come over for dinner. It’s the first time they’re gonna try something like this, and Philip is excited and nervous at the same time. Things with Bo still aren’t the best, but they’re slowly getting better. Philip has been through so much shit that Bo has almost had to start acting like a normal human being. Philip just hopes he leaves all his judgmental shit at the door.

 “I’m kidding!” Lukas says, hanging the sweater back on the pole and laughing, rubbing Philip’s shoulder. “You look horrified.”

 Philip laughs, deflating a little bit. “You’re really kidding?”

 “Of course,” Lukas says, grinning, motioning for Philip to follow him out of the store. “I’d never wear one of those things. But you’d definitely look cute.”

 “Can we still do the hundreds of selfies?” Philip asks, as Lukas takes his hand again.

 “Duh,” Lukas says, as the cool air hits them when they push outside. Helen and Gabe are a little ways down the sidewalk peering into a window, and Philip sees Gabe press a long kiss to Helen’s forehead.

 He’s been trying to be normal. Focus on the things he loves. He’s been a little afraid Christmas would hurt too much without his mom, but he’s been doing okay so far. He just needs to keep his center. Remember that he and Lukas made it. Remember that Helen and Gabe are right when they say his mom would want him to be happy. He knows she would. It’s all she really ever wanted.

 “What’d you get them for Christmas?” Lukas asks, whispering as they approach.

 “I developed this portrait of the three of us,” Philip says, his cheeks coloring. “Got a nice frame…it’s definitely not enough, but the picture is good…”

 “That’s a really good gift, Philip,” Lukas says, squeezing his hand. “They’ll love it.”

 Philip chews on his lower lip, nodding at him. He hopes so.

 ~

 “Oh wow,” Philip says, approaching the little tree with all the cards hanging on it. It’s shining in silver, swaying a little bit in the wind. There are two people in front of it but they’re already talking to a man and a woman each. “Is this—”

 “Angel tree,” Lukas says.

 Philip looks over his shoulder. Helen and Gabe are still hanging back and they keep giving him little looks, trying to hide something they have in their bags that they bought a couple stores back. They wave him away and Philip snorts, but a warm feeling spreads throughout his chest at the idea of them hiding a gift for him. Things have been hard lately, really hard, and he really appreciates how much they’re trying. How well they’re doing. How determined they are to make him a part of their family.

 It’s been hell. Losing mom, dealing with the aftermath of all the Kane shit. Some days he feels like nothing is ever gonna be okay again, that he won’t be able to move his arms, think straight, take a single step without misery striking him. But then Helen and Gabe will bring him breakfast up to his room. Helen will smooth his hair back from his forehead, Gabe will pour extra maple syrup on his waffles, and then Lukas will show up, bringing the sunshine with him.

 He’d seen the angel trees in New York growing up with his mom, had read what all the kids who wouldn’t get presents otherwise wanted. He’d never really wanted much for himself, and when his mom did get something for him he was always surprised. He’d learned pretty early that money was better spent on food and rent than toys. He’d had a little light-up thing that showed him constellations and planets, and he can distinctly remember playing with it well into the night sometimes, after Mom had gone to sleep. One of her boyfriends brought him a firetruck when he was eight, but after a couple spins around the apartment it wound up relegated to a corner. He wasn’t really sure what he liked as a kid, but when he got his first camera from the thrift store in middle school, he started to figure it out.

 He can imagine all the kids with wishes on this tree. They’re probably in situations similar to how his was.

 He realizes he’s stepping closer.

 “You wanna get one?” Lukas asks, and when Philip is snapped out of his reverie he’s caught off guard by the open expression on Lukas’s face. “We can,” Lukas says, looking at the tree and then back at Philip again.

 “Yeah?” Philip asks.

 “We can do five if you want,” Lukas says. “Or ten. Or the whole damn tree, if you want to. I’ll help pay for the presents.”

 Philip laughs a little bit, his stomach dipping and that warmth surging through his chest again. “We can pick some randomly,” he says, knowing it’d be nearly impossible to leave some behind if he actually started reading them.

 “Okay,” Lukas says.

 They talk to the people at the little table for a minute or two and then they walk around to the back of the tree—Philip’s heart is beating wildly for some reason, like what he’s gonna do here is gonna make or break something in his psyche.

 “Okay close your eyes,” Lukas says, hands on Philip’s shoulders. Philip does, laughing, and he feels Lukas direct his arm and help him take a couple steps forward. His fingers brush a card and he gently takes it off the tree, bringing it down and opening his eyes.

 Name: Anne

Age: 5 years old

She wants a: Create your own enchanted fairy garden

 Philip stares down at it, chewing on his lip. “The name,” he says, as Lukas peers over his shoulder. “Did you—see it ahead of time?” There are stars in his eyes, or tears, or both. He swallows hard.

 “No,” Lukas says, stuttering a little bit. “That was completely a coincidence.”

 It feels like a little sign and he nods at the card, determined to get little five year old Anne her garden set. “Let’s get a couple more,” Philip says, looking up at Lukas.

 “Hell yeah, let’s get these kids some presents,” Lukas says, grinning.

 ~

 They wind up with six cards and Helen and Gabe take four more, planning another shopping trip for tomorrow. Philip keeps the Anne card in his jacket pocket, close to his heart. He doesn’t think about it too hard for fear of crying again, but he likes that he has it, that it found its way to him.

 The park has a little winter village thing set up that seems like it’s trying to imitate what happens in Bryant Park. As soon as they walk into the line of Christmas trees and turn two corners they get lost. Philip turns around and sees that Helen and Gabe didn’t follow them.

 “They’re smart,” Lukas says. “We’re probably gonna have to live here now.”

 “Is it supposed to be a maze?” Philip asks.

 “I don’t think so,” Lukas says. “I think it’s just supposed to be pretty but people get distracted and then that’s it. Lost in the forest.”

 Philip smiles to himself, following Lukas as they get deeper into the trees. Some of them are adorned with lights, others with tinsel, and Philip wonders how long they’ve been doing this here. “Did you come here when you were a kid?” Philip asks.

 “To the park?” Lukas asks.

 “To this winter thing—do they always do this?”

 “Oh yeah,” Lukas says. “One time I got lost in here for hours because I just sat down and started pulling the pine needles off one of the long branches.”

 Philip snorts, holding onto Lukas’s elbow.

 “Dad was pissed,” Lukas says.

 “I figured,” Philip says.

 “Should be an exit up here somewhere…” Lukas says, and when they turn they both gasp, stopping in their tracks.

 “Is that—is that a reindeer?” Philip asks, his voice high.

 “Uh. Uh.”

 It’s just standing there, huffing and chewing on something, big antlers and everything. It’s really pretty, looks really soft, but Philip is still and silent. It’s wearing a red collar with a bell on it that hangs loosely around its neck.

 “Are we like—hallucinating?” Lukas asks. “Is that really a reindeer?”

 It huffs again, blinking at them.

 “Uh. Yeah,” Philip says, staring at it. “I think…I think so.” It seems so calm, in no hurry to get anywhere, and it doesn’t even attempt to get around them. Philip does feel a little crazy for a second, but then a boy runs around the corner and grabs the reindeer’s collar, petting it’s head.

 “You see it too?” Lukas asks the boy, widening his eyes.

 “She keeps trying to go off on her own,” the boy says. “We have a petting zoo out back, guess you haven’t been there yet.”

 “Nope,” Philip says, laughing. “We thought we were lost in the forest and seeing things.”

 “You can pet her,” the boy says. “She’s a real good girl. Just likes to explore a little bit too much for somebody supposed to be the star of the show.”

 Lukas cuts his eyes over to Philip and the corner of his mouth tugs up. They both reach out at the same time, tentatively petting the reindeer’s head, a little ways away from her antlers. She closes her eyes and Philip doesn’t exactly know what a happy expression for a reindeer is, but she looks like she’s wearing one.

 “You ever pet a reindeer before, city boy?” Lukas asks.

 “Nope,” Philip says. “Another surprise from Tivoli.”

 ~

 They lay on the ground close to the tree that night, their heads together, watching the way the lights blink on the ceiling. Gabe made this big pasta dinner and Philip is really full, relaxed, eager to just lay around and enjoy the warmth of the house as the hours grow long. Helen walks over, peering down at them.

 “Not going to bed yet?” she asks.

 “Just a little bit longer,” Philip says.

 “You guys want another hot chocolate each?” she asks, her hands on her hips.

 “I definitely do,” Lukas says, and Philip can’t see him but he knows he’s grinning, can hear it in his voice. “Philip? The Helen hot chocolate special?”

 Philip snorts when Helen raises an eyebrow. “Yes, please,” he says.

 Helen huffs at them a little bit and retreats into the kitchen, where Gabe is doing the dishes. They’ve got Christmas music playing, crackling through the old radio, and when Philip glances in that direction he can see them moving back in forth together, like a metronome.

 “Your dad is getting better about you staying over,” Philip says, reaching into the space between them and finding Lukas’s hand. “No calls.”

 “No calls,” Lukas repeats. “Thank God. He’s always interrupting at the worst moments.”

 Philip’s cheeks color a little bit.

 “So I’ll go back there tomorrow for lunch,” Lukas says. “And then I’ll meet back up with you guys when you’re going back out shopping. Plan?”

 “Plan,” Philip says.

 He thinks about the lights of New York City. How the whole place seemed to buzz with Christmas spirit, and even though they couldn’t quite grasp it, he thinks he’ll always miss the little holidays he used to spend with his mom. No matter how bad things were, she was there, and they were together.

 He can feel her sometimes, when he closes his eyes. It’s harder in the miserable moments, when he gets too caught inside his own head. But it’s easier here, in the home he’s building, a sense of permanence that he’d always been chasing before. Helen and Gabe hum along to the music, little bursts of laughter coming from their direction. Lukas plays with his fingers, bringing Philip’s hand up to his mouth and kissing the core of his palm.

 “Helen’s surprisingly good at the hot chocolate,” Lukas whispers, shifting a little closer to him. “You know, with her track record…”

 Philip snorts, shaking his head.

 “My mom used to make this weird eggnog thing,” Lukas says. “That reminded me, it was almost like I could taste it again—”

 He cuts off like he’s remembering and Philip smiles to himself. It’s something he holds great pride in, being able to draw out memories of Lukas’s mom. They seem to come to him when he’s happiest, like Philip is finding keys to doors long locked. He hopes to open them all one day.

 “How many marshmallows each?” Gabe calls.

 “A hundred,” Lukas replies. “Two hundred for Philip.”

 “We’re gonna have to get bigger mugs,” Gabe says, and Helen laughs.

 The snow is coming down in sheets outside against the thick darkness, and the window has frost around the edges. It looks like a painting. Lukas shimmies around, ruffing up the rug when he moves so he’s alongside Philip now. He braces himself on his elbow so he’s staring down, and he touches Philip’s cheek.

 “You’ve got something here,” Lukas says, dragging his thumb along Philip’s cheekbone.

 “What is it?” Philip asks.

 “Not sure,” Lukas says. “Looks like melted snow or tinsel or glitter or something.”

 Philip laughs. Lukas’s eyes look really blue in this light, the reds and greens and golds blinking on his face. There’s softness in his expression, something Philip once worried he wouldn’t see there again. But now he sees it a lot, every day. He knows he’s reflecting it in his own gaze, and Lukas’s mouth tugs into a smile.

 “What?” Lukas asks, hand sliding down to smooth along Philip’s neck. “You okay?”

 “Yeah,” Philip says. Helen and Gabe are humming Winter Wonderland, spoons circling and chiming against the inside of the hot chocolate mugs. Philip can almost hear his mother’s voice joining in, light and airy, because she always did like to sing. And Lukas is looking at him like that again. Like he’s struck gold. “Yeah,” Philip says again. “I’m okay.”