#But like. The fact that your dad can put up that cash. Lol.

[bsaka7]

Hold on what’s the beef with lando I never noticed your distaste (maybe I’m not paying attention)… I don’t like him because he looks and acts like a twelve year old who chews on pieces of paper at school

your ask has been peer reviewed. boring driver. I hate mclaren. horrible attitude. not funny. like an evil version of my brother (which is also why I don't want to see him ficified lol stay away). annoying. Idk to me he comes off like an entitled brat lmao. family money got him his seat. Etc.

Okay edit bc I got another ask: there's no proof his dad paid for the first year of his seat. But he is worth like 300mil so still hate him for that.

[cha-melodius]

Hi friend! Congrats again on 100 works! Thank you for offering to write more for us! ❤️I'd like to request 1. firstprince and 2. Kensington as an AU, but only because you dared us to! Alternatively, if someone already requested that and you don't want to duplicate, I'd be interested in a hockey AU set inside the rink! Thank you again, I am so excited to see what you come up with and to read more of your words!

(Thank you so much for taking my bait lol, I've wanted to write this canon-divergence AU where they hook up in Kensington during the damage control trip for a while now. I hope you enjoy!)

Falling Down the Stairs of Your Smile

(firstprince, 4.1k, M; read it below or on AO3) read all the fandom fest fics

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. They were supposed to finish up at the hospital, and then Henry would go back to whatever the fuck he does while Alex went to the airstrip. He’d fly back to DC, so that maybe he’d be able to get some schoolwork done before Monday, and try to forget that this ridiculous weekend ever happened—barring the fact that he and Henry were still obligated to keep up the fake friendship for a few more months, that is.

Instead, Cash comes up to him as they stand outside of Kensington with a slightly grim look on his face and says, “Change of plans.”

“Huh?”

“They discovered an issue with the plane during the flight prep. It needs some part that they’re not going to be able to get until tomorrow morning. We’ll leave then.”

“What do you mean, they can’t get it? Why not?” Alex demands. Surely in a country with fucking royalty, nothing is out of grasp for said royals and their guests.

Cash shrugs. “Didn’t ask. The palace confirmed you can stay another night.”

Alex groans probably a little too dramatically. “What about my classes?”

“I am, in fact, very aware of your class schedule,” Cash says dryly. “You’ll be back in time.”

“I don’t have another change of clothes.”

“Pretty sure Kensington has laundry.”

“I’m really not getting out of this, am I?”

“Nope.”

Alex sighs and looks over to where Henry is standing with Shaan by the front gates. There’s a look of trepidation on his face, no doubt because he’s just been told that he’ll have to deal with Alex for another night. Of course, that’s not a given. Henry will probably disappear into his apartments and ignore him, which suits Alex fine. They may have reached a kind of détente today, but they’re not friends.

“Sorry to hear about your plane,” Henry says as they get back into the car that will drive them further into the palace.

Alex shrugs. “It’s fine. I guess I’ll have to survive the hardship of ten thousand thread count sheets another night.”

Henry huffs a little laugh and grins. It’s kind of amazing how different he looks when he smiles for real. “I know you’ve probably had your fill of me today, so feel free to say no, but…” He hesitates a moment, as if waiting for Alex to shut him down before he even makes his proposal. “I was thinking of ordering in curry for dinner tonight. There’s a place not far away that’s quite good. Maybe watch a film?”

It’s pretty much the last thing Alex expected him to say. He wonders if this is another olive branch, an acknowledgement that it’ll be easier to pretend they’re friends if they’re actually… kinda friends. Surprisingly, Alex doesn’t hate the idea.

“What movie?” he counters.

“Well, I would suggest one of the Star Wars films, but I’m not sure we could agree on one.”

“If we’re not going to watch the best one, aka Empire—”

“You mean Return of the Jedi,” Henry interjects.

“—I guess that leaves the next best.”

“So, Rogue One?”

Alex grins. “Ok, maybe we can be friends, after all.”

He’s absolutely not letting himself think about the warmth that grows in his chest when Henry laughs.

~~~~~

Alex discovers that there’s a room in Kensington that’s pretty much as tricked out as you can get without being in a movie theater—“There’s an actual theater in Buckingham,” Henry tells him, “but Dad had this put in for family film nights”—with a massive screen and a killer sound system. They eat their curry out of take-out containers on a surprisingly comfortable, normal couch as the movie plays, keeping up a running commentary between them that ranges from Star Wars lore to the cast (“Come on, you can’t tell me you wouldn’t follow Diego Luna anywhere. Look at him!” Alex insists, which garners him a strange look from Henry) to random things entirely unconnected to the movie.

Turns out Henry is actually really funny, which is a fucking shock and kind of annoying except for how he leaves Alex in stitches several times. It’s absurdly easy between them in a way that it shouldn’t be, and Alex can’t remember the last time he had this much fun just hanging out with someone. And it’s Henry. What is his life, even.

“I can’t believe you like this one,” Alex says as they watch Jyn and Cassian embrace desperately on the beach. “It’s pretty much the opposite of a happy ending. For the main characters, at least.”

Henry hums, tipping his head slightly. “They give up everything in the service of a cause bigger than themselves, and they succeed. There’s something beautiful about that.”

“God, you are a sap,” Alex teases, bumping his shoulder up against Henry’s. Somehow they’ve managed to migrate closer on the couch over the course of the movie, until they’re practically touching.

“And why do you like it, then?” Henry counters. “The action and spies and intrigue?”

“Not only that,” Alex says. “But there’s a reason I’m a big Bond fan.”

A smile flickers across Henry’s face that’s a little melancholy but mostly contented. “I suppose that makes sense given what I know of your movie tastes now.”

“Also, your dad was a total babe.”

Henry’s eyes go wide as he chokes on a laugh. “I beg you to not.”

They lapse into silence as the final scenes as the credits start to roll. The movie is over and it’s getting late, but all Alex can think of is that he really doesn’t want the night to end yet. Which is crazy. Twenty-four hours ago Alex was actively cursing this man’s name, and now he seemingly can’t get enough of spending time with him. It doesn’t make any sense, but somehow it does; it’s the same feeling that he was chasing all those years ago in Rio, the one that pushed him to go up an introduce himself at exactly the wrong time, the one that made the hurt of that encounter linger for so long in his psyche.

“Hey, uh,” he says eventually, turning slightly to look at Henry, “thanks for suggesting this. It was fun.”

“I hope it made up for being stuck in London longer than you wanted,” Henry replies, his voice low and soft.

“Definitely.”

Henry smiles, a warm and pleased one that stretches his lips and crinkles the corners of his eyes, and Alex feels like he’s being pulled in by the magnetism of it. He wants to get closer, despite how close they’re already sitting. His fingers twitch with the urge to touch—the soft blond hair falling over Henry’s forehead, the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the fullness of his lips. He’s always known Henry was objectively good-looking, but Jesus, where does he get off being so pretty? It’s annoying, really.

Alex isn’t trying to make things weird, but he also can’t quite help the way his eyes are drawn inexorably down to those plush lips, still curved in a gentle smile. Who even has lips like that, does he get fillers or something, because they can’t be real, except they look very, very real, Alex hasn’t even ever kissed any girls with lips that nice, that look that soft—

Something short circuits in Alex’s brain and he just— has to know. How soft they really are. Before he even knows what he’s doing, he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to Henry’s, which are, as it turns out, extremely soft. It only lasts for a second before his brain comes back online and he realizes Henry’s frozen stiff, which is fair, because Alex has no fucking clue what he’s doing. He hasn’t kissed a boy since Liam and this was not the fucking boy to just kiss out of nowhere. He’s gonna get, like, locked in the Tower of London or something.

He wrenches away as quickly as he leaned in, meeting Henry’s wide, stunned eyes (—still so so blue, how can they be that blue—), his lips slightly parted and just a little damp from Alex’s.

“Shit,” Alex breathes in a rush. “Fucking shit— I don’t know why I did that, I’m so sorry, Henry, I didn’t mean anything by it—”

“Alex,” Henry murmurs, but Alex is too far gone in his spiral at this point.

“—I promise, it was just— I mean, I’m not even—”

“Alex.”

Alex stops in the middle of a word, his mouth hanging open. Henry’s got some kind of strange look on his face that he can’t parse at all.

“Did it really not mean anything?” he asks slowly.

The thing is, Alex has no idea what it means. Absolutely none. Something inside him—something he doesn’t really understand—wanted to do it, but like, just as an objective experiment. Except that part of him wants to do it again, even though he already got his answer. Really wants Henry to kiss him back. Which is making him feel a little insane.

Alex closes his mouth, licks his lips, and swallows hard.

“That depends,” he says cautiously, “on what you want it to mean.”

For some reason, that makes Henry growl in frustration and cast his eyes to the ceiling. Then he groans, “Christ, Alex, you’re so—”, grabs Alex’s face between both hands, and kisses him soundly.

Alex’s insides go positively molten. Henry’s hands are gripping his jaw, and in his hair, and Alex can’t help but press closer. His own hands find Henry’s narrow waist, reveling in the dip of it, the heat of his body scorching through the thin fabric of his shirt, and the only thing currently occupying Alex’s mind is a desperate urge to feel bare skin under his palms. That is, until Henry slides his tongue along Alex’s lower lip, sucks it into his mouth and tugs on it with his teeth, and Alex stops thinking altogether.

Their positions are a little awkward, twisted toward each other on the couch as they are, and Alex isn’t sure if he pulls or Henry pushes—or maybe both—but a moment later Henry is unfolding his long legs and shifting to straddle Alex’s lap, which is both incredible and incredibly overwhelming. Especially when Henry’s hips rock forward and Alex can feel his growing arousal pressing into the rapidly tightening region of Alex’s pants.

Jesus, this is— it’s— it’s a lot, but the very last thing Alex wants to happen is for it to stop.

He absolutely does not whimper when Henry pulls back, sending Alex unconsciously chasing after his lips. Fortunately, Henry doesn’t go far. He presses their foreheads together, breathing raggedly into the space between them as his thumb swipes across Alex’s cheek.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Henry breathes, and yeah, Alex had no fucking clue.

His mind is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and he has no idea what to say to that besides: “Fuck.”

Henry chuckles softly, nudging their noses together. “Indeed.” He presses a soft kiss to Alex’s lips, then another to the corner of his mouth and one to the edge of his jaw. “Do you want to… go somewhere we won’t be interrupted?” he murmurs into Alex’s ear, and his warm breath combined with the words makes Alex tremble under him.

Alex swallows hard as his hands tighten on Henry’s hips, but he hesitates a moment too long because then Henry is actually pulling back, a concerned expression creasing his brow.

“Which is not to say— we don’t have to do anything more if you don’t want— I just thought—”

“I want to,” Alex blurts, surprising even himself. He’s not entirely sure what more means to Henry, but he knows he wants it. Jesus, does he want. “Yes. Fuck. Let’s do that.”

Henry grins, wide and nearly blinding in its brilliance, and Alex thinks he would do just about anything to see that smile on his face always.

They clamber off the couch, adjusting themselves with shared, knowing giggles, then Henry grabs his hand and tugs Alex through formal, stuffy corridors lined with portraits and antiques, which just adds a certain something to the absurdity of the whole situation. Somehow it’s not a surprise that Henry’s apartments are just as impersonal and opulent as the rest of the palace, full of hideous floral wallpaper and baroque furniture. Before, he’d have put that on Henry himself, but now it feels wrong despite the fact that Alex still barely knows him. It feels like he knows enough. Henry eats curry on the couch and cracks crude jokes and sniffles at the tragic endings of Star Wars movies (yes, Alex noticed). Henry is warm and soft and feels like he belongs in cozy, simple rooms full of old books and tea and cardigans.

Alex’s musings are cut off when Henry pulls him close again at the foot of the hideous gilt monstrosity that is his bed, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist and tugging him into a lingering kiss. It’s softer than before, delicate and sweet, exactly like Alex would imagine Prince Charming would kiss. From this angle Alex has to tip his head up to kiss him, which is definitely not something he ever thought would do it for him, and yet. Henry’s evening stubble scratches against his chin, and broad hands grip onto his hips and pull him against the hard, flat planes of Henry’s chest, all of it constantly reminding him of the unmistakable masculinity of the person he’s currently making out with.

Alex thinks, distantly, that he should probably be freaking out about this a bit more, but it’s too easy to give himself over it in the moment. He can freak out about what whatever the fuck it means later.

Henry’s hands move to the front of Alex’s shirt, and his nimble fingers make short work of the buttons before pushing it backwards off Alex’s shoulders. His fingers leave trails of fire where they linger against Alex’s bare skin, and even just this has Alex moaning into the kiss, desperate for more. He tugs at Henry’s shirt, yanking the tails out of his pants and nearly tearing the buttons open in his haste, which makes Henry laugh at him, the bastard.

“Eager, are we?” Henry teases, and Alex bites the grin right off his face.

“Shut all the way up,” he huffs before sinking his teeth into the absolutely irresistible collarbone he’s just uncovered.

Henry sucks in a gratifying breath at that, his hands tightening on Alex’s waist, and then he’s manhandling Alex back onto the mattress, which has no business being as hot as it is. Alex kicks off his shoes before scrabbling backwards so that he’s lying against the pillows, his heart racing as Henry crawls up over him with a nearly predatory grin on his face. The way his body fully blankets Alex’s is overwhelming in the best way, making every part of Alex ache with the need to somehow be closer, even as Henry presses the their bodies together from knee to chest and captures Alex’s lips in another deep, probing kiss.

They kiss and kiss until Alex’s lips are almost numb from it, their hands roving over heated skin and through thoroughly mussed hair. Henry’s hips roll slowly against him, almost a question, and Alex groans when he feels the hardness of Henry’s cock pushing against his hip. His own is straining against the front of his trousers, and his breath shudders in his chest when he imagines what it would feel like to have Henry’s hands wrapped around him.

But—

“Hey, uh,” he breathes as Henry’s mouth moves to his neck, and he’s nearly driven to distraction by the feeling of Henry’s teeth scraping lightly over his pulse point, but he wants to get this out, “I’ve never actually—” His voice fails, and Henry pulls back just enough to look him in the eye. Alex swallows. “Done this. With a guy. I mean, kinda, but not really—” He lets out a frustrated huff. “It’s a long story.”

Henry stares at him so intensely and earnestly that Alex feels flayed open by it, like Henry can see all the parts of him that Alex himself didn’t know were there. “We can just do this,” he says as he pushes a curl back from Alex’s forehead. “The last thing I want is to push you into something you’re not comfortable with.”

It’s completely reasonable not to rush things, but Alex thinks if he leaves London without seeing Henry naked he might fucking expire.

“Did I not already fucking say I wanted it?” he retorts, a little testily. Better that than admitting how desperate he really is.

“Well, to be fair, we didn’t exactly specify—”

“I want you naked,” Alex breathes in a rush. “I want your hands on me. Your mouth, if— if that’s something you want.”

Henry’s gaze goes dark and hot, and he actually licks his lips. Alex’s dick twitches in his pants. Jesus Christ.

Henry dips back down to kiss his neck, but a moment later he answers. “That,” he says, pressing it into Alex’s skin as he kisses a path down his chest, “is something I very much want.”

Then Henry’s hands are at his waistband, making short work of his belt and peeling off his underwear and pants in one go, and everything goes very, very hazy after that in the absolute best possible way.

~~~~~

The room is quiet after they subside, after every ounce of pleasure has been wrung from their bodies, after shouted names ease into murmured endearments.

“I should go,” Alex eventually whispers into the stillness, because he should. It would be better if he spent the night in his own rooms. Safer.

He doesn’t want to, though. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now, doesn’t want to give his brain the space to run wild with this. That’s what will happen if he goes. He’ll fall into a research spiral on google, and text Nora even though it’s too late, and quietly freak out about everything that’s happened tonight. Here, though, Henry’s got an arm thrown over his waist, and it’s not much, but the weight of it soothes something within him. Keeps him grounded.

Maybe it’s just Henry that settles him. He doesn’t want to think too hard about that.

“You could stay,” Henry murmurs back. He leans in, presses a kiss to the outside of Alex’s shoulder. “No one will notice. Tomorrow’s Sunday. The staff come in late.”

This is a terrible idea. This can’t be… anything, really, given who they are. Alex doesn’t even know what he wants it to be, but he knows that.

“You sure?” Alex asks anyway.

“Stay,” Henry repeats.

So Alex stays.

~~~~~

The bed Alex wakes up in is unfamiliar, which is hardly surprising given his travel schedule lately. What is unexpected is that he’s naked, and there’s a warm, naked body pressed against his back, and abruptly all of what he got up to the previous night comes slamming back into vivid clarity.

He slept with the fucking prince. Henry. His nemesis, except not actually, apparently, and oh yes, definitely also a dude. Alex sucked his dick and most definitely enjoyed the experience, so that’s a whole new thing. The freakout about his sexuality that he shoved to the back of his mind last night rockets to the forefront now, and he can feel his breath stutter in his chest.

Except then Henry’s arm tightens around him and he presses a sleepy kiss to the back of Alex’s shoulder, and the tightness in his chest unclenches somewhat. Not all the way, but enough.

He fumbles for his watch, then jolts up to sitting with a new fear once he sees the time. Jesus Christ, Cash or Amy is going to show up at his bedroom any minute now to pick him up so they can leave, and Alex isn’t fucking there. This is a disaster.

Henry grumbles at being disrupted, sleepily rubbing at his eyes in a way that’s definitely not adorable at all. “Time is it?” he mumbles through a yawn.

“Late,” Alex huffs, briefly getting tangled in the sheets and nearly falling out of the bed in his haste to find his clothing.

He’s halfway into his pants when there’s a knock at Henry’s bedroom door, and he almost falls on his face again. That seems to wake Henry up a bit more, and he finally sits up, his hair standing up in all directions and his eyes gone wide.

“Yes?” Henry calls out.

“The Secret Service seem to have misplaced their charge,” comes Shaan’s voice through the door, and Alex would very much like to die right now. Henry stumbles out of bed, throwing on a robe, then opens the door just enough so that Alex isn’t visible. “I told them I would inquire with you to see if you had any idea of Mr. Claremont-Diaz’s whereabouts.”

There’s something very knowing in Shaan’s tone, like he’s perfectly aware of where Alex spent the night and furthermore none of this is exactly a surprise to him, and Alex only barely manages to hold back the extensive collection of curses crowding at the tip of his tongue. What the actual fuck.

“Ah,” Henry says. His cheeks are bright pink. “Just a moment, I’m sure I can help you locate him.”

“I’m not sure I’ve properly conveyed how agitated they are, sir.”

“Tell them I’m ok,” Alex sighs begrudgingly, stepping into view now that his shirt and pants are on. It’s not like he’s kidding anyone; he’s still barefoot in Henry’s bedroom and the bed that two people clearly slept in is fully visible from where Shaan is standing. “I just—”

Shaan holds up a hand. “Believe me when I say that you do not need to finish that sentence. I will deliver the message, but”—he pauses, glancing between them—“you probably shouldn’t linger.”

He pulls the door closed behind him as he goes and, despite the warning, Alex stands there for a minute, rooted in place and staring at the floor. Maybe Shaan doesn’t want an explanation, but the Secret Service certainly will. Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” Henry says quietly, suddenly close beside him. Alex hadn’t heard him approach. He still looks so soft and sleep-rumpled, and something tugs at Alex’s chest that absolutely should not be tugging. “I shouldn’t have talked you into staying here.”

Alex huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I didn’t take much convincing,” he says. “I shoulda just set a fucking alarm.”

“Probably,” Henry agrees, his lips tipping into a wry smile that fades into a look of concern. “Are you… ok?”

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I be?” he answers, probably a little too quickly. Henry just stares at him in that way that makes Alex feel entirely too seen. “Probably gonna get chewed out for disappearing, but it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That’s not exactly what I was talking about.”

Alex swallows. “I’m fine.” He offers Henry a little smile. “This was fun.”

“It certainly was,” Henry agrees carefully.

“Where’s your phone? I’ll give you my number, it’ll be easier to plan joint appearances or whatever,” Alex says in a blatant attempt to divert from a discussion about what happened or what this makes them. He’s got to figure his own shit out first. He doesn’t need Henry to know that he’s already wondering when he can arrange his schedule to see him again.

Henry gives him a look, but he fetches his phone and hands it over to Alex with a blank contact page open. Alex types in his number and hands it back.

“I’ll be disappointed if you only use that for booty calls,” he jokes.

Henry sputters out a laugh. “Noted.”

He’s endearingly pink-cheeked and smiling, and Alex doesn’t think before he takes the last step that puts him in Henry’s personal space, grabs the fronts of Henry’s robe, and pulls him into a kiss.

If he’d had any lingering doubts about the previous night, about whether what he’d felt was real or not, this thoroughly dispels them. The press of Henry’s lips to his, the way their mouths slot together as easily as if they’ve been doing this for years, the zip of electricity that fizzles under his skin and spreads out to tingle in the tips of his fingers and toes… Alex has never been kissed like this, has never felt like this being kissed, and it’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Like he’s falling.

Oh. Fuck.

[kitkatopinions]

Call me a hater or say that I'm killing the fun of it or something, but one of my most subjective most petty complaints when it comes to RWBY is that I honestly hate like 90% of the ship names. XD There are only a few that I can think of that I like, and most of the shipping names I like are things like 'Ironqrow,' 'Arkos,' 'Ozwitch,' 'Renora,' the regular everyday shipping names you could actually look up and get the content for without having to scroll through pictures of ladybugs. The other ones that I don't like but at least seem kind of quirky or cutesy are things like 'Nuts and Dolts' and 'Crime Dads' (I may hate Junior, but 'Crime Dads' is very similar in vibes to 'Science Bros' or 'Ineffable Husbands' or other regularly accepted fandom nicknames.

I don't like the bees very much either, but I actually don't mind the shipping name of 'Bumbleby' because it has a quirky spelling to make it something that can be looked up and also makes sense to make that the ship name because people originally started shipping the main four with each other back before they had names and just went by the color associated with them. I'd like Monochrome, WhiteRose, Ladybug, and Freezerburn a bit more too if they had quirky quirk spellings that made them able to be actually found, but here we are.

However, the other shipping names? Martial Arcs? Caffeine Killers? Evil Moustache? Burnt Metal?

Also, then you get things like mix ups where some people have been calling the ship between Whitley and Penny "cold hard cash" and others have been calling it "broken machines" I think for some reason? I don't remember for sure and I literally like the ship, but I would much rather just call them... Pentley, or PenWhit or something. Also also don't even get me started on how many ship names are associated with color but with the amount of people in Ruby who have the same color.... Like 'Crimson' is used for part of the ship title, but 'Crimson' is used for Ruby, Cinder, Pyrrha, Scarlet, Adam and who knows who else, so if someone tells me "I ship Crimson Wings" I'm not gonna think "ah yes, the ship between Cardin and Cinder," I'm gonna think "Is that like... Adam and Qrow? Is that Ruby and that one bat Faunus? Is that Scarlet and Weiss? Is that Raven and Vernal somehow?" It's so unnecessarily complicated.

Also the naming conventions of going by like... Traits that it feels weird to pick? It just gives me a not great feeling. Why does Neo being mute feature in her shipping names? Why is Blake's number one thing just 'Cat?' Why are so many of Qrow's shipping names like 'lol Qrow is a drunkard?' Why is the name for Mercury and Weiss's ship 'Daddy Issues" as if the only thing about their characters that's important is the fact that they were both abused by their fathers?

Anyway, this is a mostly harmless fandom quirk, and I just don't really like it. So... rant over lol. Please nobody think you have to change what you call your ships for my sake, but I might just stop trying to learn any real shipping names and just go with putting names together. The ship between Neon Katt and Ruby might be called like, Rainbow Eyes or Crimson Cat or CapeSkates or something, but I'm just gonna say 'Neon x Ruby.'

[fractualized]

I totally see where you're coming from with how you like your mix of comedy and seriousness and I think I'm really similar! I can definitely tolerate a lot of cheese but I'll almost always consider it a one off situation. I recently rewatched Batman and Robin while my wife was making a cast of my body so we could make cosplay and it was just so funny and silly that like it reminded me of what one of those really campy comics would look like in real life and I respected the fact that they could commit to it that way and make an artful movie that brought that to life but there were a few elements that didn't make sense to me like Barbara being Alfred's niece that I was just like whatever man and I knew I couldn't like... use it as a foundation for my basis of characterization, like I can with other media! I really love the animated series too, I grew up with it being my first experience with Batman and I always really respected it as a medium that I could trust to be satisfying and whole. I also really really liked Batman beyond because it felt like the closest continuation of that story even though I know it's really not canon and it kind of doesn't work, I like to view it as like a semi-official what if fan fiction from the original writers lol

I completely get what you mean about the comics, cuz I kind of view official comics like fanfictions even in their own right? I mean when you think back on like Bill finger and Bob Kane like eventually every other writer is going to be writing fanfiction of their characters but it's really fun to go through all the different Batman media and see whose stories you kind of like more and then whose stories you kind of tend to avoid

and when I mentioned I knew you liked comics, I was also speaking more from the perspective that you seem to have more knowledge about them Rather than I thought you had a preference for them, because you put together that comic PDF with batjokes moments and I was really impressed with that ☺️

i love your telltale fics and the games as a beautiful breath of fresh air into the life of batman so sometimes I like to imagine the animated series would be a great way to say where is juce 10 years later, if those universes were more cohesive setting wise lmao

Yeah, Barbara randomly being Alfred's niece is definitely one of the aspects of B&R that just… I guess it breaks up the campiness? That and Ivy being in love with Freeze for no discernable reason. And teaming up with him even though he'll kill her plants. And poor Bane! And then that weird bit at the end where Freeze is sort of forgiven but Ivy can't be? And Alfred almost dies. Should taken all that stuff out and added more camp.

I really enjoyed Batman Beyond too! I didn't even realize a lot of people didn't like it until recently. Honestly it's one of those things where I don't look into the reasons too much. lol I liked it and I'm fine with having liked it, no notes!! (OK I sorta lied. That bit in JLU where they made Bruce Terry's bio dad, that was bizarre.)

I am definitely in the "anything not created by Bill Finger and Bob Kane might as well be fanfic" camp. Like, sure, if DC puts resources behind a project, it has a better chance at being worth your time, but when I get down to it, I can't put a lot of weight behind the idea that someone's official derivative story is more valid than another someone's derivative AO3 post just because there was a cash exchange with a company that owns the original "asset." People who want to lean into that idea, that's their business.

The wild thing about the batjokes spreadsheet is I know that it's only a fraction of what's out there. I have read hundreds of comics at this point and I still feel like it's not enough to totally have a handle on things. Especially knowing how little I've retained. 😅 But that's another reason for the spreadsheet!

Thank you for enjoying my fics! And for implanting the idea in my head of a Telltale universe animated series… Just hijinks and maybe a little more murder with John and Bruce, bestest buddies.

[bravevolunteer]

@chaosmultiverse asked: 🎀: for my muse to help your muse wrap gifts— Elizabeth was not built for gift wrapping 😭 lol // festive scenarios

THEY MIGHT JUST be the worst duo to make an attempt at gift-wrapping together. Michael sure as hell isn't any good at it— he can do a lot with a pencil and notebook, but his drawing skills evidently do not translate to to the physical task of making wrapping look neat and put-together. He enlisted Elizabeth for help because he thought she might have more of a knack for it than he does, and Evan is too young, but it turns out she's just as bad ( if not worse ) at the job. Michael may not be the most responsible, or well-behaved, but he IS the oldest after all, so he was the one entrusted with the task of scraping up the cash and getting small gifts for their parents. He has no idea how well he did at that either, suspects that the contents won't matter so much as the gesture for his mom... and has no clue how his dad will react. Point is: he knows he isn't good at doing things right. This time he wants to.

"No— Liz, you can't just put tape all over the outside like that!" He snatches the roll from her before they run out, a mess of it attaching the way-too-large, unbelievably crinkled piece of wrapping paper to the present. "Does- uh... Santa wrap his presents like that? You gotta... use smaller pieces, I think, and fold it some specific way..." Yeah, Michael is just as stumped, the cogs in his brain very slowly turning as he tries to fold in the edges of the piece he cut. Sized better, but the edges are anything but straight, and no matter what way he tries, there's still edges of the gift left exposed.

"This is a stupid rule," He declares, ignoring the fact that Liz has already gone back to attempting to wrap the one he gave her. "Why do people care how it looks when it's just gonna get ripped apart anyway?"

[random2908]

My dad’s really pushing me to buy a condo; he’s a boomer so he’s very big on the idea that all his children should own homes, because for boomers buying in early adulthood in the 1980s, they basically made a killing in real estate over the course of their lives, just by the luck of having been born at the right time.

So I made a calculator that calculates monthly payments of buying vs renting. It’s not so sophisticated as to take into account using the down payment money on the condo/house vs investing in an index fund or something--I’m just not worrying about that. But it’s got mortgage payments, HOA fees, property taxes, and insurance estimates. And the fact that HOA fees, property taxes, and rent all go up over time. (And property taxes in CA increase in a predictable way after a purchase, divorced from the real estate market.) Anyway, the calculator does not take into account that home prices increase over time so resale value might be higher than your purchase price. There’s only so much I’m willing to speculate on. It also doesn’t take into account that you get a tax credit for mortgage payments, because at a certain point I just have to consider this spreadsheet done and stop adding to it.

What I’ve learned is that around where I live, where rent is extremely high, the break-even point averaged over 5 years is a (30-year) mortgage of about $250k, not counting equity built up by paying off your mortgage, or $300k counting equity. Less than that, and it’s cheaper to buy, more than that and it’s cheaper to rent (assuming--as I do--that you live in a one-bedroom apartment). That’s taking into account condo fees, although they can vary a lot--I used some of the real numbers I was looking at with my parents today, but admittedly some of the higher numbers. My calculation also assumes the sort of mortgage interest rate you can get with really good credit--obviously if you have bad credit, that could change things somewhat.

If, instead, you’re buying a house and paying your own external home maintenance, it’s a bit harder to guess. But by my estimates, not counting equity the break-even is a mortgage of about $280k, and counting equity, about $320k. (There’s a lot less point to living in a condo in a place like CA where you don’t have to worry about shoveling snow. Back in Michigan, the HOA fees felt very worth it, because among everything else including building maintenance, they paid for all the snow removal, which--especially as a Californian--I simply did not even want to get into dealing with.)

Comparing to a two-bedroom apartment--i.e. higher rent--so generalizing a little past my personal needs: break-even for a condo, not counting equity, is a mortgage of about $330k, and counting equity, about $380k. For a house, $350k and $410k respectively.

If you’re sure you’re going to be living in a place longer-term, that’s when things become more worthwhile, because you’re building up more equity. Also because HOA fees and/or maintenance prices don’t go up nearly as fast as rent. So for 10 years, I’m finding that for a condo, with and without equity, the break-even mortgages compared to a 1-bedroom rental are $350k and $420k, respectively (you can see the equity starting to be a bigger effect). For a house, $380k and $460k respectively.

So, ok, what’s the upshot? The upshot is that you need to be able to put down a down-payment of more than the normal 20% for buying a home to be worthwhile around here. I can do that, because I lived in my previous condo for 17 years and paid off the whole thing after about 14 years (...and successfully cashed my sales check finally lol). Basically I can leverage the equity from my previous home purchase--in a much cheaper region of the country--toward the down payment in a more expensive place, many, many years later.

A first-time home buyer, and/or someone significantly younger than me with less savings, would lose money buying, though, because the minimum price for a condo around here is about $450k and the minimum price for a house is about $750k. (So for a house you’d have to be able to pay like half of it upfront for it to be worthwhile. Hardly anyone can do that. That right there is the argument for picking a condo, even if HOA fees are more than house maintenance: buying a house is simply going to be out of range for most people in the first place.)

The other upshot is basically the old advice that you need to be sure you’re going to be living in the same place for at least five years to even think about buying a home. Otherwise, there’s basically no way to make it work out in your favor, unless you can somehow just buy the whole thing in cash from the start.

Of course, that’s not everything--sometimes with what you can buy vs rent at that break-even point, the place you can buy is bigger and/or nicer than the place you can rent. Sometimes it’s worth paying more for that quality of life, if you can afford it. Sometimes your family needs are such that finding a suitable rental at all is very hard, so buying is the most plausible option.

But if you’re just looking at the numbers, that’s how it comes out.

[mypoisonedvine]

The Summer Before College | Marcus Moreno x reader

summary: just because you got some good scholarships doesn't mean you couldn’t use some extra cash.  luckily, babysitting for a family friend has been a steady side gig for you.  rule number one of babysitting: don't let your wandering eye rest for too long on the hot single dad.  

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut (dub con elements? but she’s into it lol don’t worry), age gap (he’s 40-something, reader’s 18/19), loss of virginity, pussy spanking (like, once), lots of petnames and ‘good girl’s, not a dark fic but kinda pushing it, not explicitly dad's best friend trope but it has that energy and I've decided that he is in fact friends with the reader's dad

a/n: this has basically nothing to do with the movie.  he’s just a hot dad.  don’t overthink it.

You knew the walk to the Moreno's by now: down two blocks from your house, take a right at San Vicente, a left on Birch, a few houses down and you're there.  With your full backpack weighing on your shoulders it felt longer than usual, but you made it anyways and knocked on the front door. 

"It's open!" a voice called from inside, and you turned the knob and swung the door open.

You almost regretted wearing your tiniest jean shorts, from the way Mr. Moreno did a double take when you walked in.  But hey, it was the middle of summer and he would never look at you like that— you were just his daughter's babysitter, ever since you were sixteen; he was probably just surprised to see that you were wearing something other than your school uniform.  Maybe some part of you wished he would look at you like that… 

Missy called your name, tearing you from your thoughts, jumping up when she saw you and beaming as she rushed to give you a hug.  "Hey!" you greeted in return.  

“Thanks again for doing this,” Mr. Moreno nodded in your general direction, apparently already dressed for whatever it was he had to do, slipping on his jacket from where it hung on a hook by the door.  "She's already had dinner, so just homework and bedtime," he explained to you as you nodded dutifully.

"Bedtime?  Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore," Missy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you're a big kid and you need to be asleep by 10.  It's a school night."

She huffed but didn't protest, and you joined her on the couch because she wanted to show you some drawings she’d done earlier that day.  "Bye, Dad!" Missy waved when he left, and he turned back quickly to blow a kiss in her direction.

Once you helped her finish her homework (frankly, you didn't have to do that much— she's a smart kid), the two of you enjoyed some video games before you finally got her to start getting ready for bed.

It was cute how confident Missy was that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, only for her to be snoring within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow.  You were envious of how easily she could sleep; you could kill an hour just tossing and turning and readjusting your blanket.  But that wasn’t going to be your problem tonight: you weren’t going to sleep yet, until the man of the house returned, meaning all you had to do was wait.

Even in summer, having already graduated, you had plenty of work to do while you waited for Mr. Moreno.  Knowing what classes you had in the fall, you bought your textbooks a bit early and planned on reading them all before the semester began.  You’d already gotten through Philosophy Through the Ages and now you continued from where you left off in the middle of Introductory Physics.  

What surprised you was that you had time to finish that one, too.  You had anticipated that Mr. Moreno would be back before you made it to the module on fluid dynamics, but you reached the index at a quarter past midnight and he was still gone.  You shrugged and picked up the next one— A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry— hoping he was alright and that he’d be back soon.

You had to make yourself some coffee when 1 a.m. rolled around; tired, anxious, and distracted, you realized this was probably not the best state to be attempting to study in, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice.  You didn’t want to fall asleep here, you’d promised to watch Missy and you couldn’t exactly do that while asleep… plus, he would probably be back any minute now.  Sure, you’d been saying that to yourself for nearly an hour and a half now, but it was more true than ever.

It was another hour and a half, though, until his car pulled into the driveway and he pushed through the front door, prompting you to set aside your textbook.

“Good evening,” you greeted, standing up.  He looked a little disheveled— but it worked for him, with that curly hair all messed up in just the right way.  Maybe it was just that it was late or that it was the rare time you saw him without Missy around, but there was a darkness about him now, not sinister so much as just purely intimidating.  It was like you hadn’t really taken him seriously before, and now you were appreciating that you should have.

“She’s asleep?” he assumed, glancing over to the hallway which his daughter’s bedroom was positioned at the end of before slipping his jacket off and hanging it by the door.

“It’s half past two, so… I really hope so,” you chuckled.

“Shit, is it that late already?” he groaned, glancing at his watch.

“Did you not notice?”

“I.. got carried away.”

You didn’t want to know what he’d been out so late for.  It was none of your business, and you figured you were better off without any secrets to keep— you’d never been so good at keeping secrets, even your own.

“Been studying this whole time?” he noticed as he glanced at the textbooks on the couch, grinning a little.  It sort of felt like he was mocking you, and it made your cheeks warm as you nodded.  “What a good girl.”

That made a cold tingle crawl up your spine.  Sure, other students had called you that before, and plenty of your teachers, but when he said it, like that… it felt entirely new.  “I try,” you managed to respond eventually.

“You’ll do well in college, I bet.”

“You think so?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he nodded confidently.  There was something comforting about the way he smiled at you; yet, there was something predatory about the way his eyes glanced down your body and back up slowly.

As you turned and bent over to pick up your textbooks off the couch, you could tell that he had stepped closer; you could just barely hear the soft noise of his footsteps on his carpet, just barely feel the warmth of him behind you, just barely pick up on the slow, thoughtful breath he took in and out through his nose.

Standing back up slowly, you felt him do it again, right against your neck.

“M-Mr. Moreno,” you stammered, shivering when his hands gripped you on either arm.  Not a tight grip, per se, but one that made his strength obvious.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he breathed.  “Not when we’re alone.”

Not that you really had any plan on how to respond to that, but if you had, it would've been forgotten as his lips brushed over your neck, leaving teasing kisses in a trail over your pulse.

"Wait—" you blurted out instinctively when his hands moved to your waist, cut off by your own shaky sigh and suppressed moan.  “What if she wakes up?” you questioned anxiously, glancing down the hallway and hoping you wouldn’t find Missy there, watching her dad feeling you up— and you letting him, not just that but enjoying it.  Of course, the hallway was deserted, but you couldn’t feel certain it would stay that way.

“She won’t,” he assured.  “Not if you can be a good girl and stay quiet.”

You made a little whimpering noise as you wondered if you could.  You didn’t know how, really; you were good at being quiet when you were alone, but being alone had never felt like this.  Forbidden, sexy, terrifyingly wonderful… nothing had ever felt like this.

“Do you want me to stop?” he purred, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, “please… please don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grinned.  “Tell me what you do want.”

“I want…” you sighed and started over again, willing yourself to speak your thoughts aloud even though they made a pit of guilt sink in your stomach.  "I want you to make me feel good."

You knew it was a sort of childish way of putting it, even before he laughed at your statement, but you weren't sure what else to say.  "Yeah?  I can do that," he decided.  "But I can make you feel good in so many ways…" he trailed off as his right hand slipped lower and lower, finally landing between your legs as you gasped.  Two fingers slid over the crotch of your shorts, and somehow he managed to bump against something that made electricity shoot up your spine and your hips buck into his touch of their own accord.  You felt his smile widen as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin of your neck.  "You'll have to be more specific," he finally finished.  "How do you want me to make you feel good?"

"Inside me," you whined, "I want you inside me."

There was a sudden shift as it seemed like the control he had over you suddenly did not extend to himself; he growled a bit and pulled you into him, and you could feel the hard shape of his cock, through his trousers and your shorts.  You could feel it pressed just above your ass and it made you squirm against his embrace.  "Feel what you do to me?" he grunted, and you nodded quickly.  "Good."

He spun you around quickly, pulling you close to him and burning right through you with those brown eyes darker than ever, but just as you thought he might kiss you, he spoke instead.

“My bedroom’s upstairs,” he informed you quietly.

You just nodded, following him as he pulled you along through the house, up the stairs and past the door to the master bedroom of the house.

Now that you hadn’t seen it coming, of course, was when he chose to grab you and kiss you suddenly.  It was rough and passionate and nothing like you could've imagined; you were certain you'd never been kissed like this, like he needed to kiss you more than he needed anything.  

Your arms slipped around his neck as he pushed you back against the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he kicked the door shut behind the two of you.  Little moans were muffled by the kiss— and it took you a minute to realize they were yours.  You didn’t even sound like yourself; probably because you’d never felt like this before, and therefore had never had any reason to sound like this.

You could feel his cock between your legs, though unfortunately not in the way you wanted.  Still, it drove you wild to have him so close like this, to try to imagine how the thick shape you were feeling would ever fit inside you.

His hands were so strong and thick that you worried they’d stretch out your tank top just by reaching under it— well, that is you would have worried about that if you could think about anything else but his hands reaching under your tank top.  He didn’t even waste his time touching you over your bra, instead making quick work of the clasps with one hand before coming back to grope one breast in his palm, then the other.  Just that was enough to make you run your fingers into his hair, but a little pinch to your raised nipple made your fists tighten and pull— you didn’t mean to, and you were just about to feel bad about it until he growled a little.  It seemed like a growl of approval, considering he pinched your nipples harder to make you do it again.  

“Feels good?” he asked with annoying (yet arousing) confidence.

“S-so good,” you slurred, stumbling over your words as you tried to think as clearly as possible through the thick haze of pleasure clouding your mind. 

As he guided you to set your legs down and unhook your arms from around his neck, you felt a bit like a doll being posed; when he pulled your top over your head and your bra from your arms, you felt like a doll being undressed.  You sort of didn’t mind it; you were happy to let him take the lead, confident he knew at least 100% more about this than you did. 

He knelt down before you as he roughly pulled at your tight jean shorts, his knuckles nearly bruising your hips as he stripped you.  Your underwear were not the pair you would’ve worn if you had known somebody was going to see them, just a plain dark blue color that made you feel so drab as he came face-to-face with them.  He didn’t seem to mind much, grinning up at you as he slipped his fingers under them and pulled them down, too.  Your face was so hot and yet your legs were breaking out into goosebumps simultaneously, and a shiver rolled up your body when he growled at the sight of your body laid bare for him.  Before you could even process it, he stood up and grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praised with a smile that made you feel a little light-headed, swirling a few fingers over your swollen button until pulling them back to spank you there— it wasn’t even that hard, but you yelped and jolted and he laughed darkly.  “So sensitive,” he purred, his words walking a fine line between a compliment and a taunt, “so wet.”

Another finger slipping down to your entrance proved him right, your arousal plentiful as his touch glided through your folds.  

Suddenly overcome with a moment of bravery, you sat up and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, making him smile down at you.  “Let me help you,” he offered as he worked the buttons instead, freeing you to try to open his belt.  “Look at you, acting so desperate…”

At this point, you weren’t even offended by that; you wanted him so bad that you didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it anymore.  

He slipped the shirt off of his shoulders just as you finished opening the belt.  He pushed your hands away, and now you could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you down by your wrists.  “You’re getting ahead of yourself, señorita,” he purred.

Why did feeling powerless to him turn you on so much?  There was no real fear to it— you knew and trusted him, you would never have developed your misguided crush on him if you didn’t— and yet there was a strong edge of uncertainty as he kissed your neck and moved down your chest, between your breasts before he stopped to kiss those, too.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he smiled against your skin before sitting up and staring down at you.  It wasn’t apparent if it was distant streetlights or the moonlight shining in through the window, but either way it cast a cold blue light into the room that reflected as a glimmer in his eyes. 

“Not gonna make you wait any longer,” he promised in a low voice, reaching down to push his unbuttoned belt and trousers to his thighs— those thick, muscular thighs that made your lip catch between your teeth.

Your breath caught, too, but in your lungs this time as his cock was exposed: thick, swollen, veiny… it looked picturesque, if thoroughly intimidating.  You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to move towards it or sheepishly crawl away.

"Why do you look scared?" he asked, his voice so much deeper than you remembered it from before, even if there was genuine concern somewhere in his tone.

"Is it gonna hurt?" you asked instead of answering.

"Baby…" he sighed huskily, "are you a virgin?"

You bit your lip and looked away, irritated that you hadn't managed to hide your fear enough to keep your secret.  

He sighed, your silence apparently answer enough.  

"Do you not want to, anymore?" you asked anxiously, afraid you had completely killed the mood.  Part of the reason it'd taken you this long to lose it was specifically because people seemed intimidated by the idea of being your first.

"No, no, I— no," he asserted sternly.  "I just need to… change my approach, slightly.”

He leaned down a bit, hovering over you as he trailed his hand up your leg, rubbing the inside of your thigh before finally drawing circles over your aching clit with his thumb, causing you to shiver and moan quietly.

“And, to answer your question, it won’t hurt.  Not if I get you good and ready for me,” he explained, pushing just one finger into you— and even that small of a stimulation made your eyes flutter shut, with his fingers being so much thicker and stronger than yours.

The second made your fists clench around the satin-y sheets beneath you.  You didn’t dare open your eyes, knowing you’d find him staring down at you and you weren’t ready for that, weren’t ready to see his reaction to your body in such a vulnerable state.  You could hear his reaction, though, with the rough groans and satisfied sighs he let out as he pumped his fingers into you.

When three fingers filled you, your eyes shot open.  “Fuck!” you yelped.

He smiled but slowed down, apparently taking some pity on you— but not enough to stop him from pressing down harder on your clit.

Just when you figured he’d warmed you up enough and he’d fuck you like he promised, he slid lower and the bed and bent down, adding his tongue into the mix with his fingers.  It was… overwhelming, and hot, not just psychologically but literally: it was physically hot, as in temperature.  How was his mouth so warm against you, and his fingers so warm inside you?

When he latched his lips around your clit and sucked on it, you saw stars.  Energy gathered in your gut and burned so bright that you thought you might explode.  Really, it was more like an implosion as the coil inside you snapped and your thighs accidentally clamped down on his hand.  It didn’t faze him though, it didn’t even slow him down as he moaned a little against you and curled his fingers even harder.  You didn’t remember reaching down to grab his head, you just felt his hair between your fingers as you pulled it roughly, gasping his name.

When he did stop, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hand, you just looked back up at him as you caught your breath.  He laughed, and you realized you were gawking unintentionally.

“I’m guessing you’ve never come like that before?” he ventured.  You didn’t know if ‘like that’ meant from oral or just so suddenly and intensely, but it was true either way so you nodded.

When he reached down to grip his cock with the same hand still wet with your slick, you held your breath without realizing it.  “Please put it in me,” you whimpered.

“I will,” he assured as he guided the head of it through your slick folds, stopping to tease your clit as you jolted from the contact on the sensitive nerves.  Something surreal and indescribable tingled under your skin— you could hardly believe that this was happening, let alone with him, with Mr. Moreno.  Or, Marcus.  You were on a first-name basis by now, surely.

He pushed forward in one smooth, slow stroke until he was all the way inside you, his body filling yours to the brim as you quivered from the sensation of being stretched so wide.  

“Am I hurting you?” he asked roughly.

“...almost,” you answered hesitantly, unsure how to describe the sensations you were feeling; not exactly pain, but not not pain.  The favorite pain you’d ever felt in your life, easily.

He chuckled as he gripped your hips a little tighter.  "I'm gonna move now," he announced.  You nodded your approval, sighing shakily as he pulled his hips back and you felt the intoxicating friction of his cock against your walls.  

"Ffffuck," you whimpered, gasping when he slammed his hips forward again.  Your eyes rolled back in your head when he pushed as deep into you as he could with each thrust, still measured but not exactly gentle as he set a pace faster than you’d prepared for.  But it was good, god it was so fucking good you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.  "Marcus," you sighed, barely recognizing your own voice when it was heavy with need and arousal like this.

He grinned when he heard his name cross your lips, grinding his hips against yours for emphasis until you were forced to arch your back.  "You like it rough, don't ya, honey?"

You nodded, confident that you liked it however he was doing it.

"Fuck, I knew it.  Knew as soon as I saw you."

Before you could wonder what he meant by that, he was already moving fast enough to make your head spin.  You had never had anything so deep inside you before, and when he pushed your legs up and back against your chest, you had no choice but to scream with pleasure.

Just before you reached the peak of it though, his hand clamped down over your mouth to muffle the sound.  "Gotta be quiet," he reminded you through his teeth before relaxing his hand a bit so you could still be heard somewhat

"I can't," you whined, "Marcus, please, I can't stay quiet—"

"You have to."

"Feels too good," you whimpered your excuse.  "F-fuck, slow down, I won't be able to stop it—"

He cut you off with a kiss, slow yet dominating, and your moans were muffled by his lips.  You still sounded so loud in your own head, but at least your cries weren't echoing against the walls of his room anymore.

What was echoing were the sounds of skin slapping on skin as he pounded into you, roughly finding every delicate spot within you and making the backs of your thighs sore as his hips slammed into them.  It forced your hands to grip at his muscular shoulders and your nails to dig into the skin there.  You hoped there would be little half-moon shaped marks there tomorrow, maybe one would even scar so he'd have your mark on his body forever; after all, he'd carved a permanent space in your body by taking your virginity.  Even if you couldn't dream of being as special to him as he was to you, you liked the idea of giving him something that he couldn't give back.

That energy was building again, different from before but no less powerful and persistent.  "I'm gonna— fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm so close," you whispered.

“Yeah?  Go ahead," he encouraged.  "I wanna see you fall apart just for me, wanna feel you come around my cock."

You hadn't realized he'd be able to feel it, and the idea of that was so filthily beautiful that it pushed you over the edge, your whole body tensing up in sudden waves of pleasure so intense that it made your eyes water.

Through the static filling your ears, you heard his low, husky voice encouraging you: "Good girl, just like that, don't fucking stop."

You'd always been powerless to his voice, but this was another level.  It was as if your body understood and met his demands, continuing to ride the peak of your sensation so long as he growled in your ear just right.  

It was much too tender, the way he brushed the stray hair away from your face, the way he kissed your slack mouth again, the way he held you tighter and mumbled more praises to you.  It was more romantic than it had any right to be, and you had to bite back the words of affection threatening to spill out of your mouth.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, I've loved you for years, but it was beyond inappropriate.  You didn't want to play the role of the innocent virgin who thinks sex means being in love and lets herself catch feelings for the older man who is just taking what he wants and, at best, doing her a favor so she doesn't have to go off to college and get her cherry popped there.  Maybe that was accurate, but that wasn't who you wanted to be.  

You wanted to be sexy, and mature, and in control.  You wanted to play a new rule, one that still felt foreign and yet closer than ever.  So you wrapped your legs around his hips and held him deeper in you, smiling with a little growl of your own.

"I want you to come inside me," you informed him with a purr, loving the little moment of shock that passed over his face before he groaned, fucking you a little faster and more erratically.

"Fuck, really?" he rasped.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

"You're on the pill?"

Another nod, this one finished off with a shiver as you wondered how much more of this your body could take.

He grinned and picked up the pace again, his moans getting a little louder with each movement.  "Fuck, I'm gonna come— gonna fill up your tight little pussy, is that what you want?"

You nodded feverishly, already close to the edge again as you imagined what it would be like to have his come in you for the rest of the night.  Was he going to make you walk home with it leaking out from between your legs?  Why did that idea make your inner muscles involuntarily tighten around him?

With a string of curses and a grip on your thigh tight enough to bruise, he reached his own peak and you felt his cock flex and pulse inside you, a new warmth filling your gut from the inside out.  

It's hard to say how long the two of you stayed like that, since you were busy basking in the afterglow (and, less enjoyably, worrying about the consequences that tomorrow morning would bring).

When he pulled out and collapsed beside you, you wondered if you should get up and get dressed.

"Stay here tonight," he instructed you, as if somehow a response to your internal thought.  "Your folks won't freak out if you're out all night, right?"

"I'll just tell them I slept over at your place," you shrugged.  With a confused look from him, you clarified: "on the couch."

"Right," he nodded as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you closer, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck.  In this way and in so many others, it was how you expected (and hoped) losing your virginity would go: someone you trust and who cares about you, with enough attention on you that you didn't feel much pain, plus cuddling afterwards.  But, in even more ways, it was unlike what you'd ever thought possible: it felt incredible and you came so hard that your ears were still kind of ringing, you didn't use a condom or even think to mention it, and finally— and most absurdly— it was with Marcus fucking Moreno.

Frankly, considering his performance earlier, "fucking" very well could be his middle name.

"You should sit for me again next week," he suggested quietly.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," he grinned, "but I'll be sure to come back real late, after she's gone to bed, so I can show you all the other ways I can make you feel good."

"H-how many ways are there?!"

He just laughed, pulling you closer and placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.  “Oh, sweetheart… so smart, but so innocent.  We can fix that.”

You weren’t sure entirely which of those two things he intended on fixing.

[seraphtrevs]

Awww, LOVE the idea of her having a skunk stripe just like her son! Never thought of that. Although, with her being so vain I can see her trying to dye it because "eww gray hair." I also love the idea of her having sharp features! I said she had green eyes because imo Lalo got his eye color from his dad (dominant trait), but I can see her and Lalo having the exact same eye shape and her also being brown-eyed as well! Love, love, love the fact that Hector would be intimidated by her and yet also wildly attracted to her and have sick fantasies about her (he is nasty and an old perverted man after all lol). I can totally see that! Also, do we at this moment have any hc for Lalo's dad? In your mind, how did Reina and Lalo's dad meet?

They meet at an exclusive resort in Mexico City, where Reina is vacationing with her family. She just graduated from college - she was supposed to get her MRS degree, but all the suitable boys bored her.

Her father is a self-made man and proud of it (this is where she gets her stingy streak from). He runs the most successful pig farming operation in the whole southestern US. He's called the Hog Baron of Louisiana, a name he came up with and always introduces himself as. Reina finds this beyond mortifying.

Her mother is a massive hypochondriac and a nervous wreck. Reina has to play nursemaid to her a lot, which she hates. They have a passive-aggressive relationship.

So Reina is very bored and listless. She's always been Daddy's princess, but Daddy is growing annoyed with her extravagent spending and has noticed that she's...well, a spoiled brat. He keeps making noise about putting her to work. Times are changing, after all. Women are doing it for themselves! She could be the Hog Baroness!

Needless to say, Reina has no interest in being the Hog Baroness.

Antonio (Lalo's dad) is also a self-made man. He got in on the ground floor with the cartel and it's paying off. He's young, handsome (with a fabulous moustache), charming, and flush with cash. He bought his way into the fancy resort and is teaching himself how to be classy. He's a quick learner.

Reina is instantly charmed by his aura of danger, and Antonio loves the idea of having a sophisticated girl on his arm to show off. Hector thinks it's a waste of time trying to fit in with the elite - he has a huge chip on his shoulder since they grew up poor. But Antonio has always wanted more, and she's the embodiment of it.

Of course, it eventually comes out that this charming young man is in fact, a narco, and Reina's daddy demands she cut off contact immediately. It's time for their vacation to be over anyway.

She tells Antonio the bad news. He responds by proposing- yes they've only known each other a couple weeks, but it's true love! And he promises she will never lift a finger - he will keep her in style. And if anyone mentions hog farming in her presence, Antonio will shoot them dead.

She accepts. Daddy blows a gasket and tells her he's cutting her off. She just laughs - she doesn't need his money. She's a narco's wife now. It suits her.

[puckngrind]

Leave Her Wild: chapter 3 - N. MacKinnon

Summary: MacKenzie heads to Washington and cashes in her bet with Nathan.

Warnings: swearing, fluff and stuff

Word count: 2,565 (swear they will get longer)

Series masterlist / Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

Washington.

The two texted back and forth over the week. Mostly randomness with a splash of real life. A friendship was blooming with the text conversation but what else could come of it? Neither one seemed to want to touch the subject. Kenzie wasn't even sure what to make of the attention from Nate. She threw herself into work as she normally would.

MacKenzie spent a few days in Colorado Springs for work but took advantage of her time off by hiking the Garden of the Gods. She was was halfway through Palmers trail when she feels her phone and decides to stop for water and take in the view plus check her phone thinking it was work. She laughs to herself realizing it was in fact not work.

Nate: how’s Colorado Springs?

She snaps a picture of her view and sends it.

Kenzie: gorgeous as always

Nate: holy shit are you hiking alone?

Kenzie snaps a selfie where you can see she’s alone and sends it.

Kenzie: don’t worry not anything too dangerous today. Lol

Nate: ok… not worried. Anyways, thought maybe dinner could be in DC since we will both be there next week.

Kenzie thinks about it and starts walking again. She realizes dinner out of town may in fact make things less awkward.

Kenzie: depends on my schedule but that should work

Nate: good. Enjoy the rest of your hike.

MacKenzie did just that. One thing most people knew about her was she loved adventures and trying new things. She rarely goes to the same vacation spot twice. Always wanting to try new restaurants and really only frequents Gus’s place in Denver. She liked to be free which drove her mother insanely crazy but MacKenzie didn’t seem to care. Her dad was her biggest supporter. Constantly sending her wanderlust Instagram posts after she taught him how. At least her mom had home in Kenzie’s brother, Cameron. Cam was doing everything he was expected to do including recently proposing to his high school sweetheart which Kenzie thought was dumb as seniors in college. His life was his life that was for sure, well and maybe their mother's life too. She couldn't control Kenzie which meant Cam got all of her energy.

The flight to D.C. was a breeze but busy would be an understatement as MacKenzie met her client at the end of the week. The demands were insane in the time frame. She spent almost all weekend in her hotel room working and talking with her team back in Colorado.

Nate: would you want to come to the game? I have tickets.

Kenzie: I would love to but I don’t even know if I can do dinner I’m so swamped

Nate: you need to eat right?

Kenzie: I mean, yeah. I’ll order in

Nate: how about you come to my hotel, we have an amazing restaurant here. You can work and eat

MacKenzie thought it over as she looked out her window. Walking the block and a half to Nathan’s hotel tomorrow night seemed doable. He had a point that she needed to eat and could work while they ate. It would complete their wager from the card game in the same instance. Wondered if Gabe or one of the other players would be around to ensure the dinner happened. MacKenzie thought she wouldn’t have the awkwardness of it feeling like a date this way. Plus, she wanted to try the restaurant out since last time she was in town and another client mentioned it. Mosi was all for the dinner when she called ensuring Kenzie her condo's mail was indeed checked. She thought this was the perfect arrangement and MacKenzie couldn’t find a reason to say no. Thinking Nate would already be at the arena for the game she sent a text.

Kenzie: Yes, to dinner at your hotel if you are still up to it after the game

She starts typing away again and laughs when the ping is almost immediate.

Nate: Perfect. I'll text you when we are back on the bus.

MacKenzie decided to turn the game on while she worked. She normally would have something on as background noise while she worked. She knows she can get lost in work and wanted to make sure she knew to pack up her laptop and such waiting for Nathan's call. She hears his name and looks up to see him score with less than a minute left. The Avalanche was already been leading but that goal ensured their win. She decided to change then couldn’t decide if she should pack up her work yet. “How sure how much time would he take between the game and the bus?” Kenzie asked her reflection. She texted him nice game to see if he would respond. He did a few moments later so she packed up slowly. Kenzie walks down to the street turning to head over to his hotel, humming to herself trying to not over think this very simple dinner. She slows down as she sees the charter bus in front of the hotel. Fuck.

"MAAAAC! Good to see you!" Gabe's voice comes booming out of the bus with some others chiming in as the stepped off the bus. MacKenzie awkwardly smiles at the team and then catches Nathan out the side of her eye. He’s staring at her as he walks down the step.

"Did you walk?" Nathan looks down at MacKenzie puzzled.

"Well, hello. Nice game. And yes. Just two blocks." MacKenzie pulls at her loose curl and then slides her finger down her messenger bag.

"Ready for dinner? I see you brought your work." Nathan taps her bag with his knuckle. MacKenzie nods and follows Nathan into the hotel. She awkwardly stops and he realizes it. “Whatcha doin’ there?” Nate walked back so he was standing in front of Kenzie.

“Isn’t the restaurant that way?” She points in the direction of the sign she stopped next to.

“Yes but they deliver to the room and I’d rather change into sweats and let you work in comfort.” He pulls at his tie. “Less eyes too. Come on.” Nathan placed his hand briefly on MacKenzie’s lower back to lead her to the elevator.

“I normally take the stairs.” MacKenzie looks around Nate for the steps.

“My room is on floor 12 and I just had over 20 minutes of ice time. Can we please take the elevator?” Nathan looked into MacKenzie’s questioning eyes.

“Fine. You have a point.” She smiles but gets lost calculating if that time is high or low for him.

They make their way to Nathan’s room. MacKenzie is surprised how nice it is. She’s not sure what she expected but it wasn’t this. Nathan’s suits neatly hanging up. Sweats sitting in his open luggage next to the closet. She realizes he hasn’t moved from behind her.

“Everything okay?” He moves to grab a pair of shorts and shirt.

“Yeah. Just not what I was expecting. You literally live out of suitcase don’t ya?” She watches him take off his suit coat and gulps at how his shirt is sticking to him.

“Some trips it feels like that. This one we won’t be home until the 26th… then a home stand with a few games on the road… and I’m boring you. Set up wherever you want and I’m gonna go change then will be right back.” He heads to the bathroom shut the door softly.

MacKenzie stares at the uncomfortable looking desk chair in a moment of indecision wanting to be set up so she’s working when Nate returns, she decides the bed was a better option for her to sit. Getting out her laptop Kenzie starts typing as soon as she hears Nate opening the door. He smirks when he sees Kenzie on the bed and moves to the desk to find the menu. She cannot help watching him. His muscles easily seen in the shirt and shorts he picked. He hikes up his pant leg exposing his thigh. Kenzie coughs focusing back on her work again.

"Here it is." Nathan turns around and walks towards MacKenzie handing her the menu. She stares at the menu then her finger lands on a cheeseburger and fries. Nathan moves to the other side of the bed, sitting to call in the order. He hangs up and starts to move.

"You can stay here. That chair is horrible looking." MacKenzie looks over at Nathan and he stops moving then looks down at his feet before swinging them up and adjusting to sit on the bed.

"Thanks." He looks over at her screen. "So what exactly do you do?"

"Simple description... I am a social media consultant." MacKenzie giggles. "Speaking of... your social media..." "Is non-existent." Nathan finishes her statement.

"Yeah, only two posts. That’s shocking for someone your age. Nate, do you know how you could amplify your earnings post career?" MacKenzie moves her computer and shift so look at him. He rubs the back of his neck and rotates on his hip to look at her better.

"Yeah. No, yeah. I get it. Just not my thing but you looked at my socials?" He bites his lip.

"I did after we ran into you at the bar post-game. Would've felt funny giving you my number if you had a girlfriend." MacKenzie admits.

"No girlfriend. So did you say you watched the game?" Nate changes the subject which Kenzie made a mental note of.

"Background noise while working. You can turn the tv on now or just talk to me. You scored." Kenzie looks over at Nathan.

"Empty netter but yeah. Nice win." Nathan says softly. The knock on the door stops their conversation. "Oh, dinner!" Nathan pops up and answers the door.

Dinner was delicious. The two shared backgrounds such as where they were from, college for MacKenzie, boarding school and early days of hockey for Nathan. They were laughing at each other's stories which lead to both laying on their stomachs watching a video for MacKenzie's work on her laptop.

"Kenz... Kenzie. Wake up!" Nathan whispers and MacKenzie's groggy self pops up and lands on Nathan's naked torso.

"Holy fuck!" She yells out. Nathan's hands steady her.

"Hey." Nathan backs up and bends to look her in face. Panic written all over her face. "You okay? We fell asleep talking." He looks at her.

"Why didn't you wake me? What time is it? Fuck. Sorry. I'm on a schedule." MacKenzie pulls away and looks for her bag realizing Nathan plugged her computer in at some point.

"It's 6:30. We just slept. I sleep shirtless and, uh, must've taken it off in my sleep. Sorry, should've put in on before I woke you. Hold on." Nathan moves to the other side of the bed and throws his shirt back on. "Let me call you an uber." He grabs his phone.

"I can walk. I don't have a meeting until noon so I'm fine. Thank you." MacKenzie points to the bathroom and Nathan nods.

She stands in front of the mirror for way too long just looking at herself. Pinches her cheeks and starts ranking her fingers through their loose blonde curls making them manageable enough to put up in a high ponytail. She grabs Nathan’s toothpaste and brushes her teeth with her finger.

“Well, Mac. This will have to do.” She bobs on the balls of her feet to psych herself up. Returning to the room she notices that Nathan had changed and slipped on some shoes. “Whatcha doin’ Nate?”

“I’ll walk with you. I wanted to grab coffee from down the street before we leave for the airport.” He grabs his wallet.

“You don’t have to.” Kenzie whispers as she heads to her bag.

“I don’t, but I wanna.” Nate smiles at her. She notices those soft eyes again. Almost gray but then again blue.

They head out of room to the steps. MacKenzie took a deep breath not realizing she was holding it until they got to the door.

“Why good morning you two!” Gabe’s voice comes from around the corner with a bag and coffee in hand.

“Mornin’” Nate answers and pushes the cross walk button.

“Glad to see you Kenzie.” Gabe nods and starts whistling while heading back to the hotel.

“Don’t mind him.” Nate breaks the silence after crossing the street.

“I’m assuming he’s thinking you got lucky last night.” MacKenzie tries to control her racing heart.

“I’ll talk to him.” Nathan assures her. She stops and looks up at him.

“Did you want to?” She puts her hand on her head not sure she really said it out loud.

“What?” Nathan stops and looks at her confused.

“Did you want to sleep with me?” She looks to see if anyone could hear her.

“No. Well… damnit. Hi. Let me start over.” Nathan looks deep in her eyes and cups her face.

“Go ahead.” She’s not sure if the words actually could be heard or not.

“I like you. You are easy to talk to. In the short time I’ve known you I’m constantly wanting to know more. I’m just bad at dating.”

“Why do you say that?” She moves closer to him without thinking.

“I’m not romantic. Plus my job isn’t the easiest for most of the year to maintain a healthy relationship. Plus, there is those who just want me for what I could give them.” He drops his hand to her hip. She sees his chest rise and fall.

“Who says you aren’t romantic?” MacKenzie questions.

“Every girl I’ve dated.” Nathan grumbles. This makes Kenzie laugh. “Well, they have.”

“I like you too, Nate. You intrigue me.” She feels the heat in her cheeks.

“So to answer your original question, yes. I would very much like to be physical with you but I also want to date you. Like not to fuck it up by…” She stops him by pushing herself to her tip toes to softly kiss his cheek.

“Well, saying all that is a start in how not to fuck it up.” She smiles at him. “Let’s get me back to my hotel then we can visit this whole dating thing when you return to Denver.” She starts walking and he quickly grabs her hand to walk with her.

“Here we are.” He stops at the doors of her hotel. “So, I’ll see you in two weeks, Kenzie.” Nathan drags out the two while contorting his face.

“It’s not that long plus you will be busy and I have this plus another project to finish before then.” She rubs the back of his hand with her thumb realizing how large his hand was in comparison which could crush her hand if he wanted. “Thanks for dinner Nate.”

“Can I?” He starts and gulps. MacKenzie watches his Adam’s apple bob. “Can I kiss you?” He asks with a quiver in his voice. She nods her head yes. Nate brings his hands up to her jaw holding her face up while he leans in pressing his lips to hers. Kenzie kisses him back and cannot remember a first kiss quiet like that. He releases while sucking in a deep breath.

“I…” Kenzie touches her lips.

“Well, see you soon Kenzie.” He kisses her forehead then turns quickly to head back down the street leaving Kenzie wanting more.

[broadstbroskis]

five times you shared a bed with your best friend plus one time you didn’t | matthew tkachuk

lol so @slimskjei-dy requested the prompt 16. We’ve been sharing a bed since we were little so why is this weird now? from a list i put out a couple days ago to write blurbs for and this spiraled out of control, so here’s nearly 4k.

one

The Tkachuk’s move into the house next door to your family the summer before you start preschool and at the ripe age of three, you are too young to have any idea what going with your mom to drop off “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies is going to mean for your future.

Really, it likely has more to do with the fact that “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies turned into a glass of “welcome to the neighborhood” wine between your mom and Chantal Tkachuk, which turned into a bottle of wine while you and Matthew played in the backyard with Brady’s chubby little baby legs trying his hardest to keep up. 

By the time Keith arrived home from a midday skate session, with your dad awkwardly following behind, babbling about how your mom had just planned on dropping something off quickly but was still missing, their friendship was basically cemented. Chantal and your mom did everything together. And your dads’ friendship didn’t take long to form after that. 

Which meant you and Matty were right there with them.

But neither of you cared. You’d settled quickly into a friendship, just like your parents had, where you’d play hockey with him and he’d begrudgingly play soccer with you, and you both pretended you had no idea what Brady was talking about when he ran to tattle that you were ganging up on him and not letting him play.

There’s countless pictures of the two of you growing up, getting into all kinds of trouble, but then also, of the quieter moments too. Sitting too close to the TV watching movies, eagerly waiting by the door for Keith to come home from a road trip with souvenirs, the naps curled up around each other in one of your beds. 

“The quietest twenty minutes of the day.” Keith continues to joke, anytime one of those pictures resurfaces.

two

You wince at the sound of glass crashing behind you and decide the best course of action is to keep moving forward with your mission to find Matthew. Whichever hockey bro of Matthew’s house this is can take care of that; it’s not your job.

Besides, the room is spinning from the cheap beer and booze you’d been drinking all night since the two of you arrived at this party, and you’re pretty sure it’s a bad idea to go near glass.

You find Matthew in the kitchen, with a few of his St. Louis hockey bros, a couple of them guys that you’re still friends with even after he’d left to go join the NTDP, as well as a few faces you don’t recognize. You slip up into their circle, sliding under Matty’s arm when it lifts to wrap around your shoulders, grateful for the solid body to lean against.

The room is really starting to spin.

“You okay?” He asks, ignoring whoever’s speaking.

“I don’t think I can go home tonight.” You admit.

He laughs. “Text your mom and tell her you’re staying with me. Big Walt and Chantal are at a tourney with Brady and Taryn; nobody’s home.”

“You don’t think she knows your parents aren’t home?” You scoff, but you’re already pulling out your phone and carefully drafting the text, making sure to avoid any spelling errors that might give your drunkenness away.

“Yeah, but she can’t prove what she hasn’t seen.” Matty winks at you and you roll your eyes.

“Is that what you told your mom after you left her a three minute voicemail at 3am last month?” You chirp at him, smiling at the instant laughter from the friends around you and accepting a fist bump from Luke Kunin.

That line of chirping continues for a few minutes, until Matty manages to turn it around on one of the boys, and then it dissolves into a free for all before they’re all just laughing at each other.

By the time the giggling ends, you’re about three seconds away from falling asleep on Matt’s shoulder, and it’s his nudge that wakes you. “You ready?” You nod, joining him in making goodbyes to your friends, and then following him out the door to begin the walk back toward your houses.

The fresh air does some good to sober you up and you feel marginally less dizzy by the time you and Matt make it to his room. He throws you a t-shirt to change into and you fall into bed after changing, waiting for him to join you, eyes shutting the second you feel the bed settle beside you.

three

The night before Matty’s due to leave for Buffalo for the draft, your phone buzzes with a text from him. You’re expecting more of the same that you’ve been exchanging all day with him-in various group chats with your friends, at a barbeque with both your families, when the two of you were chatting with Brady while you hid in the far corner with the beers you snuck while Taryn and your sister were off doing their thing.

It’s not. Let me in the text says, so you shove the blankets down and make your way downstairs to open the door for him.

“Shh.” You tell him. “They’re all asleep.”

“It’s 3am, of course they are!” He whispers back.

“Well so was I until you woke me up!” You start walking back toward your room, knowing he’ll follow.

Matthew doesn’t speak again until the two of you are in your room, the door is closed, and he’s lying on his side to face you in your bed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You can’t possibly be nervous.” You whisper back, knowing he’s talking about the draft. He shrugs and you reach your hand out to shove his shoulder down, allowing it to rest there. “Matty.” He blinks at you a few times as you think of what to say next. “You’re gonna go somewhere and you’re going to be great. One of these teams is going to love you enough to draft you and everyone after them is going to be mad they didn’t have the chance to and almost everyone before them is going to be mad they didn’t end up picking you and you’re going to go off to whatever city does and forget all about me back here.”

Matthew wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him so you move your hand from the top of his shoulder around to rub at the blade gently. “First of all, that’ll never happen. You’re stuck with me forever.”

You nod seriously. “Somebody’s got to put up with you.”

He pokes you in the side for that one and you have to bite your lip to keep in the squeal of laughter. “Second of all, almost? Almost everyone is going to me mad they didn’t pick me?”

“Leafs got first pick to get Auston! I just don’t think they’re going to regret that!” He pokes you again and you don’t manage to hide the squeal this time. “Matty! Everyone’s sleeping!”

“You should be nicer to me.” He tells you, once you settle down.

“I should be nicer to you? You wake me up at 3am to talk you off the ledge and I should be nicer to you?”

He nods, pulling you even closer to bury his face in your hair. “Always.”

You laugh, the sound muffled into his chest now. “Are we all good now?”

“Hmm?” He says, sounding sleepy already.

“Never mind.” You tell him, rubbing his back again. “Good night, Matty.”

“G’night.”

four

Calgary is a thousand times more incredible than you’d ever imagined. You’d been teasing Matty about being stuck in a frozen wasteland, sending him snaps from sunny gamedays at Mizzou and laughing anytime you get one in return with snow in the picture.

There’s snow on the ground when you arrive in December, fresh out of finals, and still feeling both the mental exhaustion from your exams and the hangover from a day of binge drinking with your friends immediately after they’d ended. You’ll never fly hungover again; the next time you do this, you’ll leave yourself a day of rest between exams and flying up to visit your best friend, since you know you won’t stop drinking earlier.

College is making you smarter already!

Matthew actually laughs when he meets you in the pick up lane, like puts his head on the steering wheel and has to hold off on driving. He gets honked at by the car behind him. “Your laugh is making my headache worse.” You whine.

“So I take it you don’t want the bottle of wine I bought for us to split tonight?”

You look over at him suspiciously. “What kind of wine?”

He laughs again, but softer this time. “Atta girl.”

It’s a red blend, a favorite of the two of you, but a much nicer one than you’ve ever bought before. You let out a low whistle as Matthew places the order for dinner. “Suddenly you’ve got some cash flow and Barefoot’s too good?”

“Hell yeah! Wait until you see what kind of vodka I got for us for Saturday.”

You perk up. “What’s on Saturday?”

“Party with the team before my parents come in.”

You laugh, accepting the glass of wine he pours for you. “You don’t think Big Walt would want to come to the party?”

Matty gives you a look. “I know that’s exactly what would happen and that’s why I told them to come Sunday.”

“Smart thinking.” You admit.

“See, who needs college?” He teases, which settles the two of you into your familiar teasing and banter while you wait for the food to arrive. 

It isn’t too long after dinner and Netflix that you and Matthew are heading to bed, pressing yourself as close as you can to suck up as much warmth that he’s radiating. “Fuck, your feet are cold.” Matty mutters as you giggle and press your toes into his calf.

“Haven’t you missed me?” You sling your leg over his for maximal toe digging, laughing when he jumps.

“I guess.” He says, but his tone says Absolutely.

five

“So what are your plans for after graduation?”Ashley, Sean Monahan’s girlfriend (and soon-to-be fiancee if Matty was to be believed) looks at you during a stoppage of play late in the third.

“God, don’t remind me.” You groan. You’d wrapped the fall semester of your senior year a couple days ago and then taken off to Calgary in what had become your annual post-finals trip. It’d be the last one you ever took, with your final semester of college looming over your head. 

Ashley grins. She’d become a close friend of yours over all your trips to visit Matthew, even flying down to St. Louis last season when the Flames were in town and spending a weekend with some of the other girls visiting you at school afterwards. “Just come hang out up here forever.”

You burst into laughter. “And live where?”

She gives you a look, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “With Matt?”

“Oh my god, you’re serious.” It takes a full minute for you to recover. Play has resumed, there’s a minor scrum on the ice in front of the two of you but you barely even notice, too shocked by Ashley’s words.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because why would I ever?”

“Because you already do.” She says, with more patience than you’ve possessed in your entire life combined, and then laughs at the look on your face. “YN, what you two have is so special! To fall in love with your best friend at age three and still feel that way is amazing! If Sean and I can look at each the way you and Matt do after twenty years, we could only be so lucky.”

“We’re not in love.” You deny. “Matty and I-we’re just-we’re not.”

Ashley bites her lip, but doesn’t push it any further. “Alright.” She agrees, and thankfully, the game ends there, so you’re able to just gather your things with her and make your way down toward the family room to meet the boys.

But you can’t get her words out of your head as you and Matthew arrive back to his place and start getting ready to go to bed. You move around each other with a practiced ease, handing him the toothpaste before he even asks for it and accepting the oversized sweatshirt he passes to you, somehow knowing that you’re extra chilly tonight. 

Lying next to him in bed, the same way you have for nearly twenty years, suddenly feels suffocating. You roll onto your side, hoping for some room to breath, but now it just feels awkward; this isn’t how you sleep.

You sit up, ditching the sweatshirt. Maybe you’re just too warm. Lying back and pulling the covers back up does nothing to solve that problem, and actually, you’re shivering, so you sit back up and yank the sweatshirt back on.

“Could you settle down?” Matty mumbles, pulling you into his side the second that you’re flat again. His arm rests on your waist, thumb in the dip of your hip, a position it’s been in many times, but suddenly you think you’re having trouble breathing. You open your mouth to tell him this, but he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Relax, just sleep.”

You don’t sleep a wink the entire night.

plus one

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Dylan, a good friend of both yours and Matthew’s, is usually one of the most upbeat people you know, so the sound of disappointment coming throughout your phone actually makes you wince. “YN?”

“I just-” You hesitate. You’d have to leave right now in order to get to St. Louis in time to make the Skills Competitions, and even then you might be pushing it, and things were still weird for you with Matty, as evidenced by how things were between the two of you when he came home for his short Christmas break. And things were weird. Everyone noticed- your families, your friends, Matthew. The two of you had spoken only once since, in the group chat where Matthew had texted an invite to your group chat to come home for the weekend for the All Star Weekend and you’d noncommittally responded wow that’d be awesome. “I’m super busy.” You finish lamely.

Dylan sighs. “Look, YN, I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you and Matt and I don’t really care. It’s not my business. But I know he’d really want you there no matter what’s going on and I know you’ll regret not going if you don’t.”

You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. He’s right. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Dyl.”

“Hell yeah,” Dylan cheers.

By the time you make it to St. Louis, you have to race to meet your friends in your seats and the cheer they send up is poorly timed, but it does make you smile. “Shitty seats.” You accept the bottle of Bud Light someone passes you.

Dylan laughs and points up to the giant platform next to you guys. “He’s going to be shooting from there in a while.”

“Alright.” You nod. “I guess this is acceptable then.”

It’s a good while before Matty and the rest of the guys participating in the Shooting Stars event start making their way up, but it’s nice to catch up with your other friends while you wait. If you got a big cheer when you rolled in, the one that goes up when Matthew walks by is deafening (and boostered by the friends of Brady’s that are sitting right behind you guys). The two of them look over at you guys, grinning already, and you see it in Matthew’s face when he spots you, the smirk softening a little and his eyes locking on you.

You’d read about moments where time stands still but it’d never actually happened to you until now. It’s like the crowd doesn’t exist around you, like you don’t actually need to breathe. The only thing that matters is the moment in time when your eyes meet Matty’s. 

And that moment’s broken by Brady shoving him forward. 

As you watch Matthew throughout the entirety of the last event, you know you’re screwed. You’ll get through this weekend, go back to school, and get over these thoughts by the time summer comes. Everything will be back to normal by the time you see Matty again.

In the meantime, you do your best to avoid him once the Skills Competition ends and you join everyone at the after party on the rooftop bar of the hotel. It’s easier than you think it would be to do. When Matty’s talking with some of your local friends, you find yourself catching up with both sets of your parents. When he starts making his way toward your parents, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You see him make a beeline towards the bar, so you dart off in the opposite direction, where Brady is talking with a couple of his Atlantic Division teammates and push yourself in between the height of him and Auston Matthews, which seems like a safe spot to hide.

“YN!” Auston grins, throwing his hands up in the air, in a drunken greeting that you’d love to be more lowkey.

You reach up and grab them, yanking them down. “Listen, I know it’s been a while since we’ve last hung out and all, and I know from the way you talk and dress and everything about you that this is a hard thing for you to comprehend, but I’m really going to need some subtlety from you.” Next to him, Mitch and Freddie burst into laughter. “Down low, boo. Down low.”

Auston is laughing as well and you remember that while the times you’ve spent with him have been few and far between, unable to visit Matthew as frequently during his time with the NTDP as you have been in Calgary, they’ve certainly been memorable...so moments like this are unshocking to him, to say the least.

They don’t even faze Brady, who’d grown up with both you and Matthew, and is merely looking at you with an entirely too familiar smirk and a raised brow. “What’s the subtlety for, YN?”

“Fuck off, Brady.” You flip your middle finger up at him quickly but it’s just enough time for the entire group of hockey players around you to pounce. You really should have known better.

“I knew something was up!” Auston grins.

“Nothing’s up.” You deny, very poorly.

“Really?” Brady grins. “‘Cause Matt’s like right there.” He points. “On his way here. So I guess if nothing’s wrong, you can-” He starts immediately laughing when you shove your way out of them.

You think you manage to lose your best friend by pushing through a large group of players and family from the Metro and Central divisions and throwing yourself out the door to the outdoor patio, which is mostly empty, despite the unseasonably warm winter St. Louis has been experiencing. You can see Brady, Auston, and Quinn laughing together through the glass door, but Matty’s nowhere to be found, and you sit down on the closest bench, taking a minute to just breathe.

“You gotta tell me what I did.” The voice scares you, but it shouldn’t, because you really should have known better than to think that Matty wouldn’t be able to find you.

When you look over at Matty on the bench beside you, you can’t think of another time he’s looked this devastated. Maybe that semi-final loss in World Juniors? Maybe? It’s all over his face and you can’t just leave him like this any longer. “It’s not you.” You tell him, holding back tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!” Matthew says, frustratedly.

“You can’t fix it!” You sniffle, trying to scoot away from him, to give yourself some distance, and feeling the tears start to fall when he closes that space again. “You can’t go back and stop Ashley from making me realize that I’m in love with you, okay? So you can’t fix this and I just-I need some time, Matty! Okay? I need some time!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He breathes, like he’s only just recovered the ability to talk, which, he might have, and you tilt your head to meet his eyes, which puts you in a perfect position considering he’s already leaning toward you.

Matthew fumbles for a second, his hand reaching for your cheek and catching your ear instead with you turning, but he recovers quickly, stroking gently down the side of your face. You gasp, the kiss entirely unexpected, and Matty takes the opportunity to tug on your lip gently before pulling away and you let out a whimper at the loss of contact.

He smirks.

“Don’t be smug.” You shove at his shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.” He repeats, pulling you closer. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t be in love with you?”

“I didn’t want to ruin us.” You tell him softly. “But I am willing to concede I was wrong.”

Matty grins. “Sure were. Can do this anytime I want now.” He kisses you again, leaving you just as breathless as before.

You suppose, at some point, that’ll start to wear off, but as the two of you trade lazy kisses on the rooftop, you can’t imagine that point ever coming. This is perfection, this is the piece of your relationship you didn’t even know was missing coming together, this is-

-Brady knocking on the window?

What?

You blink again, realizing where you’re at. Still on the rooftop bench, with your arm wrapped around Matty’s neck, your legs draped over his lap, and your face tucked into his shoulder. Matthew’s arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you close, and his head rests on top of yours. Somehow still asleep through all the banging Brady’s been doing. 

“Matty.” You poke him awake.

“What?” He groans, sitting up.

“Brady.” Matthew looks over at the window, where Brady is still gesturing that it’s time to leave, with a very smug grin on his face.  Matthew lifts one hand off your waist to flip his brother off, allowing you to climb off. 

“You couldn’t have answered any of the texts we sent you?” Brady asks, once you step inside, but he doesn’t sound annoyed at all, still looking between the two of you with the biggest grin on his face.

Matthew shrugs. “Must have fallen asleep.”

“Bullshit.”

“You just saw us!”

Brady rolls his eyes, knowingly. “Just kiss her already.”

Matty grins. “Gladly.” And then he’s pressing a heated kiss against your lips, looping his arm around your waist, and it’s all you can do to grip his arm with one hand to keep yourself standing and flip off the crowd around you with your other as whoever’s left at this after party burst into applause and wolf-whistles.

[a-pretty-nerd]

Best Boi Soup

A/N: So it's @trickkombowerskru 's birthday today, aka, my Tumblr wife. We met almost four years ago on this app and we've talked everyday ever since. I am very fortunate to have such a sweet and fun-loving friend to nerd out with everyday, I truly can't imagine life without her. Shes so very talented and smart and she always makes me laugh. So for her 22nd birthday I asked her what she'd like me to write for her and she said, "whatever you want" which might be a mistake lol. So I present to you Best Boi Soup.

A headcannon, blurb, list of the best bois we simp for. I hope you enjoy! Love you, bitch!

Trick

Beginning:

You met Trick while working at a convince store in the rundown town you'd spent your whole life in.

He came in almost every shift you worked to buy a drink, a snack, and a pack of cigarettes.

Everyday he came in, and everyday you wrang him up. He was one of the many regulars you had. You saw him walk in, you greeted each other with a friendly smile and you'd turn around to grab his usual before turning back to the register to ring him up.

"Uh, not today. Thanks though." He shook his head and pushed the pack away from him. You raised your brow.

"Really?" You asked, a little surprised.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Are you vaping now?" You started the small talk. Another part of your routine.

"No. Just, trying to quit." He flashed an awkward smile your way as he handed you the cash.

"Wow, good luck with that." You smiled back.

"Thanks."

"Receipt?"

"No. Thanks. See ya."

"Yeah. See ya." And with that he sauntered out of the store and onto the grey street. Either headed home or to work.

"That Trick?" Your manager asked as he shuffled in from the back office.

"Yeah."

"How's he doing?"

"He seems alright. He's quiting smoking."

"Oh really? Good for him." The old slob mumbled between his teeth as he chewed on a toothpick.

As time went on, your exchanges gradually shifted from friendly to borderline flirty. And you notice his purchasing habits begin to change. He starts brining healthier drinks to the counter, fruits and vegetables as snacks, a sandwich if he's hungry. You tease him for it at first, but he brushes you off with a playful smile.

One day your manager watches your playful exchange as he leans against the old counter. A sly smirk spreads across his face.

"That boy likes you, yknow." He says with a mischievous smile.

"Quit bullying me." You reply, still in a playful and joking tone.

"He only comes in here for you." He tells you.

"No he doesn't." You argue, crossing your arms.

"I've never seen him here when you aren't is all I'm sayin'." The old man chuckled as he raised his hands in defense.

"You're pulling my leg, leave me alone." And with that he had planted a terrible, terrible idea into your head.

Of course you had a crush on Trick. You always thought he was cute but as time went on the butterflies went away and you became good acquaintances, friends maybe. Just friends, right?

Oh no. The butterflies. They're back. Shit.

The next time you saw him, they ravaged your body. Making your knees weak and your cheeks burn. Your heart and raced and you started to sweat. Shit. Be cool. Be cool. Just be normal. This is normal.

"Hey, Y/N." He smiled as he placed his purchase on the counter.

"Hey. How's it going?" You asked, hoping he didn't notice your insuing panic.

"Nothing much. Um...well...actually..." was he blushing? "Y'know Todd?" Todd was a mutual friend of yours. You and Todd went to high school together. Todd and Trick worked together. He was another young adult trapped in that dead end town.

"Yeah."

"So he's having a party tomorrow night at his new place and he wanted me to invite you."

"Todd wanted you to invite me?"

"Yeah, I was thinking I could pick you up? Around 5?" You hissed through your teeth.

"Actually I work-"

"She can go!" Your manager shouted, poking his head out from his office. "She can go." You turned back to Trick with a smile.

"So 5?" You asked.

"5."

Middle:

Dating Trick, or Ryan as you now know, was easy. He was easy to be around, fun-loving, and sweet. He was thoughtful and caring in ways you'd never experienced before. He made you feel safe and happy.

He still stopped by your work everyday to brighten up your day and give you a sweet peck on the lips before heading back to work.

Things were good, until a little over a year into your relationship. You met his Dad.

You knew about Trick's abusive father. He's the reason some dates were cut short. The reason Ryan had to spend the night at your apartment so often in fear of going home. He tried to save up enough to move out, in fact you were in the process of saving so you could move in together.

You watched a man you hadn't recognized walk into the store one day. He was clearly a junky, which, wasn't abnormal there were plenty around here. But unlike the others, he made aggre eye contact. He shuffled around the store, browsing.

At first you thought he was just going to steal, which you usually didn't pay any mind to. It wasn't your job. But soon he came up to the counter with beer and candy. You asked to see his ID, which was mandatory.

"Do I look underage to you!?" The man spat.

"No sir, it's just I can't sell it to you without ID. The register won't let me-"

"Goddammit. Fine." He mumbled as he reached into his pocket and gave you the card. You scanned his ID and continued checking him out. "You're Ryan's girl, ain't ya." You froze. Before you could speak, he interrupted you again. "Little shit thought he could hide you from me." He smiled a rotten toothed grin. He made you sick to your stomach.

All the pain, the trauma, the torture he put Ryan through. It all added up to this weak, distorted, junky. A bizarre idea of a person. You watched him take his receipt and leave without another word.

You didn't want to worry Ryan, so you decided not to tell him about his father's visit. But he just kept showing up to harass you. Sometimes he'd ask how Ryan was doing when he'd stay the night with you. Sometimes he'd comment on your body, try and flirt even. Giving a disgusting laugh when you didn't respond.

"He said he saw you today." Ryan said, hanging his head low as he watched you get into his van.

"Who said?" You asked, not thinking of it at first.

"My dad." You paused. "He said he's been...visiting you at work latley." He was visibly shaken.

"Are you okay?"

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"I didn't want to worry you. I'm fine, really. He hasn't done anything..." you tried to brush it off.

"Just because he hasn't, doesn't mean he won't." You watched him, his wild eyes looking out the windshield.

"Well then...what do you wanna do?"

Happily Ever After:

"Let's run away." He whispered softly against your forehead before leaving sweet kisses against the skin. Your bodies resting skin to skin against each other as you laid in your bed.

"What?" You giggled, pulling back to look up at him. He wore a sweet and confident smile for you.

"Let's run away together. Just you and me." He squeezed you tighter against him.

"Where would we go?"

"Anywhere. Just take me away from here." He begged as he left gentle kisses against your temple.

"What about work? What about moving in together?"

"We'll find other jobs. We'll take our money and run. Live in my van until we find a place."

"I thought that van was your dad's."

"We'll steal it."

"And what if the cops come after us?"

"He's too chicken shit to call the cops."

"You really wanna run away together?"

"With every fiber of my being."

Klaus

Beginning:

You met Klaus in rehab.

You were there for ...reasons. And Klaus was there for ...reasons...

Klaus was attractive, free flowing, free thinking, wild and fun. Everything you wanted and more. It's only natural that you were attracted to him so that hook up in rehab was only inevitable.

It was no surprise that it got him transferred thought. So you pouted about never seeing the best sex of your life ever again and went on with your life.

You struggled, as everyone in rehab does but you were lucky in that you made a good recovery. You worked hard to help yourself get out of your sticky situation and move on to bigger and better things.

That was, until you saw him again.

There he was, sitting there at the breakfast bar where you worked.

"Hey stranger." You mused as you filled his cup of coffee. Klaus's big green eyes looked up at you.

"Hhheyyyy..." He smiled up at you with a confused brow. You chuckled at him, taking his order and walking away. He looked up at you such sweet adoring eyes everytime you came by. "Hey." He grabbed your wrist to get your attention. His eyes searching yours for answers. "Do I know you. You seem familiar." You laughed at him.

"Rehab. Four years ago. Y/N, Y/L/N." He let out a high pitched laugh and a cheerful huff.

"That's right! We-uh-um-yknow." His fingers pointed back and forth in a funny suggestion. You giggled with him and nodded.

"Yes, 'we-uh-um-yknowed'. It got you kicked out, remember?You joked.

"Wow! Hah! It's uh. It's good to see you. You look...well you look, g-good."

"Thank you. So do you."

"Well, hah, I try." You shared a few laughs back and forth ending with you giving Klaus your number.

Middle:

Dating Klaus was...strange. Just as strange as him.

Sometimes he'd disappear months on end, only sometimes leaving a "I'll be gone, love you" note or text. But you felt content with Klaus.

When he was around he shrouded you in love and affection. He appreciates your patience with him and his traumas. His PTSD coming and going as it pleases.

He's there for you when things get rough, and you're there for him. Unconditionally and truly.

He's hopelessly in love with you, terrified that his family business will endanger you. Trying to keep you as distant and as safe as possible. Only forced to get you involved in order to protect you. Even then, you better be able to handle yourself in case of emergencies.

Happily Ever After:

Your happily ever after consists of buying a plot of land in the middle of nowhere to live out your lives in peace.

Taking care of yourselves and one another in the comfort of your own private get away.

Jasper:

Beginning:

You met Jasper during a rough time in both your lives. You were a grounder, one of the grounders tasked with spying on The 100.

You were always in the trees, hiding, watching, getting information for the planned attack.

Jasper caught your eye simply for the fact that he survived a spear to the chest. What kind of space magic was that? It also didn't hurt that he was cute and awkward and you kinda just wanted to jump some space boy bones.

Needless to say you developed a bit of a crush on Jasper without him even knowing of your existence. When Lincoln got involved, things got messy. You felt bad for The 100, after all, you saw no real reason why the grounders and the space people couldn't just work something out. But your people were fearful, and so were The 100. Or Skycrew as you called them.

So you helped in little ways you could, joining Lincoln and aiding their side when Mount Weather got involved.

Needless to say when Mount Weather went down, and you met Jasper for the first time, things were not as you had hoped.

Jasper was traumatized, haunted by the deaths of an entire civilization. Tortured by the death of his girlfriend. You felt bad for him. And he wasn't too fond of you.

Being a grounder meant you were his enemy to him. Grounders caused trouble, grounders were responsible in the first place. He associated you with his scar.

And while is rejection hurt at first, he warmed up to you as you worked along side Raven and the rest of his friends. Monty and you grew especially close because he was a good teacher, and he would listen to you about your experiences as a grounder. You had import information about the land that Skycrew did not.

Soon, Jasper got used to you being around. But that didn't mean he liked you.

Middle:

One night in particular, you were fed up being bullied by Jasper. Jasper wasn't the only one who didn't trust you but, he certainly was the loudest.

You walked into the common place, noticing Jasper sitting at a table drinking as per usual. You tried to mind your own business but he taunted you.

"Hey grounder!" He knew your name. He refused to use it. You looked after a few calls. A sloppy smile stretched across his face. "Why don't you show me some of your grounder magic er whatever."

"Grounder magic?" You scoffed. Grounders were, out off all the groups, the most spiritual. And some skycrew had started rumors that you were a witch. You had taught Monty in particular how to grow and harvest herbs that could aid in healing wounds and help the sick. Your symbolic tattoos and dress didn't help your case. You liked to think you were an agent of peace, but clearly your efforts were for not.

"Magic." You scoffed at him.

"Yeah c'mon witch. Read my palm." He held out his hand with a drunken smile. Watching with heavy eyelids as you approached. Taking a seat on the bench beside him, slowly taking his hand in yours, and pressing it harshly against the metal table below. Jasper gave a sharp gasp of pain before you quickly let go and snatched the bottle of liquor from him. "Ow! Hey! Give that back!" He shouted after you.

You cursed him before drinking from the bottle and exiting to walk back to your room. Moonshine for dinner, you thought. You took large gulps from the bottle as you walked back to your room, already feeling dizzy by the time you got back. You entered the broom closet of a room, capping the bottle and tossing it onto your bed. Stripping of your clothes to change. You paused when you heard a loud knock at the door.

Jasper was on the other side, just as drunk as you, just as pissed. He froze when you opened the door, dressed down to just a bra and pants. Were always this hot? He asked himself.

"Piss off, Skycrew." You muttered, trying to shut the door. He wedged himself between the door and aggressively pushed his way through.

"I paid for that bottle with my own rations now hand it over!"

"Consider it payment for your palm reading you bastard!" You shouted back, trying to push him back out but failing to as he wrenched his way in. He lunged for the bottle, making you lunge for him in an immature and ridiculous mess of a scuffle. You pulled on the collar of his shirt, choking him enough to disorient and bring him back. He collapsed to the floor, reaching out and pulling on your ankle to get you down to his level.

Once on all fours, he climbed over you, only to get an elbow to his ribs. You pinned him down, sitting on his chest, legs on either side. Your hands pressing his wrists into the concrete floor below, and your chest pressed flush against his face.

In any other circumstances, Jasper would have shouted for you to get off. To let him go. But now, suddenly, in his half-drunk half-horny state, he relaxed into this position. He stopped fighting and for a moment so did you. Panting and content with your win, you released him. Looking down from your position on his chest. He was beet red.

His heavy eyes looking up at, dilated and needy. That look made you melt. Was he okay? Had you hurt him?

Jasper was more than okay, for once he had forgotten about everything. Nothing else mattered but you and your soft supple body. You went to get up off of him, but his hands came up and pressed you back down on him. Forcing your lips to meet his.

Drunken sex helped keep the two of you sane. Some nights you didn't even need to be drunk, you just needed him as he needed you. You chocked it up to a sex addiction, just another thing to make you both forget the atrocities of war. But, when the chip came around and everything went to shit. You worried for Jasper, as he worried for you.

Happily Ever After:

You watched out for one another, a bond built from pain and trauma grew into a friends with benefits sort of deal. Jasper let himself go, he let himself love again because of you.

Being up in space was weird. Six years and you still weren't used to it. You missed earth more than you could ever imagine but somehow, Jasper made it all okay. Jasper felt like your own tiny part of earth, he made you feel at home.

You'd spend the rest of your years in space with Jasper. Coming to the conclusion that this peaceful life in space was better than the chaos down below. You manned the ship with him. Growing old, having children together, and passing away of old age together. Finally getting the peaceful life you both desired.

[tomuraxashes]

Found you - part 1

- Tenko! - a young, white haired boy run towards him from the swings.

- Touya-chan! How could you come? - he asked with  confused tone in his voice.

He remembered his friend told him yesterday he wouldn't make it to come even today to the playground.

- Ah, it was easy. I convinced my mum to go and visit her parents together and after we came back I just asked her to take me out here. So I am here! - the young Todoroki smiled.

- Oh, I'm happy then. - the black haired boy said somehow delightfully, but his little cute face immediately turned back to the gloominess it was before - but wat if your dad finds out?

- Dont worry Tenko, after he learned that you are a Shimura, he doesn't really mind when I hang out with you. Sure, I still have to train but he allows me to have a friend, moreover a friend from a hero dynasty. Common bullshit of his, ya'know.

- Yes, I see, but I'm still worried about you! Your scars on your arms .. I .. let me see.. let me try to heal it!

- No need - Touya opposed - I don't have big scars today, I didn't receive any serious injuries. I don't want you to harm yourself just because of these small scratches.

- I don't care.. - the little boy said with a serious gaze in his ruby eyes - besides my mum or Hana-chan, you are the only one for I would use it.. You are the person I like the most, and why should I have this quirk, if not for helping my loved ones?

Now give me your hand...

.

.

They boys were at the Todoroki's house, playing inside of Touya's room. But they still could hear the shouting of Endeavour and Rei from the another room.

"Enji, he is just seven! How can you do this to him?

"He is already seven! He is my eldest son, and I want him to become the no 1, no matter what. He will surpass All Might! I won't let my dream down!"

From the room where the boys were in, a quiet sobbing was heard after the argument.

- Tenko chan.. I .. I don't even know if I want to be a hero anymore! - the white haired boy cried silently

- It's okay.. I will always be here for you and support you, no matter what.

.

.

- Mum, why Tenko's mum is not answering to your calls?

"Breaking news! The no 1 hero Nana Shimura is dead!"

- Mum! It's... Tenko's grandma on the TV! What happened?

"The heroine kept her private life in secret, but unfortunately the tragedy happened there as well. His son's entire family was eliminated, the circumstances are still under an investigation, the suspect is unknown."

- Mum? Dad? - the white haired boy almost cried - Whats the report about? Why we can't reach Tenko? Is he safe?

His mum couldn't answer. All he got is his father's uncertain hug, with a sad gaze and his trying to calm him down.

- I'm sorry, son...

.

.

He was so young back then, but then he was able to feel some happiness. He had one fucking friend in this cursed life, yet he had to die.

He didn't remember to much from his childhood - he didn't want to - but the small black haired boy with those ruby eyes was his sweetest memory ever.

He is not the one he used to be. The white haired hero-to-be is now gone, the world thinks he is dead now. And maybe they know right .. Touya Todoroki is truly dead.

Dabi is the one who lives. Dabi, the villain, the bad guy, who kills people just for fun, and kills heroes to calm his broken soul a little bit.

What would Tenko think if he could see me now?"

But there is no Tenko anymore.

There is no one who would heal his injuries, who would make him smile, who would care for him.. there is no one in this world for him. He is alone.

The only thing what makes him happy is to kill those fucking heroes.

Those scumbags who never helped anyone for real, they weren't there for him when his father almost killed him,  neither for Tenko when he... passed away. Somehow.

It has been so many years yet no one knows how this case happened. The investigators claimed it had something to do with All for One and Nana's war, and via that, they didnt really look into it.

Dabi wanted two things in his life.

Firstly , he wanted to kill the person who made him and his whole family suffer - his scumbag of a father.

Secondly, he wanted to find out the truth about Tenko's death.

And that's why he is exactly there where he is right now.

He joined the League of Villains.

He heard from some underground fellas that there is a guy named Giran who can find literally anything. Well, the information is the most expensive trading stuff of his, so Dabi knew he has to make some money first.

And what's a better option than making money from killing heroes? And besides that, if he ""sells" himself to Giran first, and the  League would be pleased with him as a villain, than the man would owe him.. perfect plan.

Well, it somehow worked. He was in, the LoV took him and even they gave him the opportunity to make them proud.

Even the boss seemed to acknowledge his powers and determination.

Well, the boss.. he was really something. Dabi - nor the others - couldn't see his face,he had always covered it with a human hand. It was kinda creepy but the whole guy was, as well.

He learned that his quirk, the decay is extremely dangerous and that he didn't think a lot about killing. If someone pisses him off, he is willing to turn them to dust within a sec. He has to be cautious, Dabi noted himself.

*

Shigaraki didn't  seem to care too much about his subordinates but in fact, he did. He couldn't even explain it for himself, he just didn't want them to die - maybe.

He didn't exactly know how to "care". He didn't interact with people too much before establishing the LoV. He had Sensei and Kurogiri, and sometimes he was in touch with Giran if he needed something from the black market.

But then Sensei wanted him to get some people, who are his "own". So that way, it was not necessary to ask Giran for some ragtag mobs if he wanted to make a bigger action.

Now, he had some really hardcore fellas, with real power and willingness. He was satisfied.

He was the leader. They listened to him, they obeyed him. That was the most important thing.

But ... since they lived together, he saw the connections between the members. How they get on with each other in their free time. How they talked, played, had fun, etc.

And for Tomura, it was all strange indeed. He has never done it - at least, not after Sensei found him.

Before -

"Hm, that's not relevant anymore, what happened before..."

*

Dabi was in a good mood recently. No one from the League knew the reason, but the scarred man teased them less than usual. He was even nice with them sometimes.

They were all in the bar, even Shigaraki sat there and drank some spirit when Toga just asked Dabi randomly about his sudden emotional changes.

- Well, if you really wanna know - the burnt man started to speak theatrically - I will finally receive the thing I always wanted to!

- And what's that thing? - Magne asked excitedly- you ordered some goth stuff from Wish?

- Lol nope, that's ..wait, why do you assume I have my stuff from Wish? I definitely don't! But that's not the matter! After the last mission I finally had the cash to buy something from Giran. And he promised me the stuff for todaay!

- What the hell did you buy from that crock? Do you need some guns or what? - finally Shigaraki spoke up too.

He wasn't fond of the fact that he has now some company but he was aware he needed to socialise.

He quite liked the League and that's why he didn't want them to think that he is some creepy loner - well, he is.

- What for? I have my own firepower, it's not the thing. I bought some information...

That was all he shared with the League. At least, for now. He have to see Girans files at first and maybe after he will reveal the truth about himself - and Tenko in front of the League.

When he almost died, and that way he became Dabi, he promised himself he won't share his past with anyone, but since he lived with the League, he wasn't that determined anymore. He felt like there is a bond between them, and if they could help him find Tenko.. it would be worthy.

Even if he - somewhere deep down - realised it is nearly impossible to find his soulmate being alive, the hope never left him.

Neither when Giran gave him the files - with a sorrowful storyline, about AFO's and Nana's fights, about how Nana tried to hide Kotaro's existence, and then after a time skip, there was Kotaro's own family. Birth dates, basics infos, some pictures and the date of their deaths.

So that was it. No trace of life, no chance of survival. The destruction may caused by Afo.

Who is currently in the jail, so Dabi can't even speak to him.

He knew he has to give up on his hopes. There is the fucking evidence his soulmate really died back then.

Dabi just put the files on his drawer, not really paying any attention to hide it. He will do it later - now, he just doesn't want to think about it.

That's why he volunteered for the Leagues next mission.

It was a dangerous one, he needed to a sneak in the Hero commission's building and steal their newest "top-secret" plans.

It was actually spying, and they needed to do it with the minimum amount of men.

Kurogiri would teleport him in and out when it's time, but it is still risky.

Mostly - for a spying- there was Toga or Twice because of their quirks were suitable enough, but now it was required a real fight as well. So the final version was him and Twice. Twice would copy the looks of a random official, and Dabi will hide and somehow steal the secret files.

.

Shigaraki was really good at making plans. He always calculated a lot of possibilities in, and nearly all the stuff what could happen.

He was aware the mission is not a child's play but a serious one.

He looked over it many times already before presenting it to the others, but the overthinking and insecurity were his habits and can't let him stay calm.

At the evening, he decided to talk with Dabi about it. He wanted to be sure that the flame villain is okay with the whole thing, he knows the details and stuff.

He headed to his subordinate's room. The door was halfway open so the young boss don't really mind to knock on it.

There was a semidarkness in the room, but Dabi was nowhere to seen. Shigaraki came from the bar, the burnt villain was not there either.

Tomura thought he may use the bathroom or whatever, so he decided to wait him in his room.

He was about to sit on his bed, when he accidentally noticed a file on his drawer.

On the top of the file, there was a picture. That particular picture, of his dad and Nana Shimura.

Tomura stood there for minutes like an ice statue. He couldn't imagine how the picture could remain - and mostly how it got into Dabi's room.

At the meantime Dabi finished his stuff in the bathroom or wherever he was, so he came back to his room, only to see his boss holding a picture from his file and staring on that somehow inscrutably.

If it wasn't for Tomura, Dabi would be pissed off, cuz he doesn't like at all when others just come in his room and start to rummage his stuff, but since the blue haired man was his boss, he tried to keep it cool.

- Hi boss, how can I help you?

Tomura turned up when he heard Dabi's voice. He still held the picture, and judging by the mess on the drawer he also took a look into the files.

He was so confused right now he had no clue what to say. His thoughts were so loud and they didn't subside. He wanted to ask Dabi why the hell he has this goddamn file with the picture, how did he get it, and mostly.. could is be possible that he knows his secret?

"No way" - Tomura thought - "he would hide this somewhere and he wouldn't act so normally with him" But he was certain he needs to figure it out.

However his thoughts were still so messy he couldn't ask the proper questions he wanted to - without being suspicious.

He somewhat calmed down when he read those files - and they all stated he.. not he, Tenko - is dead, all the family is dead. No sign of survival.

So Dabi - or the one who gave him this - cannot know about him.

- How did you get those? - he finally managed to ask. His eyes were more deadly than he wanted tho.

Dabi suddenly felt himself quite uncomfortable. What should he say? If his boss would be curious, how should he explain why he wanted these datas? And why is his boss'es suddenly so resentful?

- This is the stuff I bought from Giran - he started to explain - I needed it for.. personal stuff.

Tomuras eyes widened - what kind of personal stuff of his can he related to his family? He noticed how Dabi's mood changed before he met with Giran - he was almost happy and really excited. But after the meeting he got gloomier than usual. Even now - when he spoke up, his voice was somehow sad.

Tomura decided to not deal with this right now, they all need to focus for the next day's mission.

- Anyways - the bluenette said - I just wanted to say not to fuck it up tomorrow. That's all for now. And I will keep this picture. Good night!

And with that, Shigaraki quickly left his subordinates room.

Now Dabi was the more confused one. He just couldn't understand what exactly his boss wanted to do, and why he got so distracted by that fucking picture. And mostly, why did he keep it?

Not if Dabi would need it, there wasn't Tenko on the picture just his dad as a kid with Nana Shimura.

"Maybe Shigaraki recognised the heroine and that's why he was asking? Probably" - Dabi thought. He knew about All for One and the Shimuras were enemies, so maybe that's why Shigaraki acted so strange.

.

(Part two right here on my page, just couldn’t write here the whole stuff cuz it’s long)

[smallheathgangsters]

Doomed | Part Two

Masterpost

A/N: I’m sorry you had to wait so long for part 2 and that this seems like a filler, but I promise it isn’t! I also enjoyed writing some soft Bonnie, so please don’t come at me for the lack of action lol.

Tag List: @imgrullas @beautycinders @maggiescarborough @lovemissyhoneybee @ellaestloved @swweett-insanityyy @peaky-fookin-blinders-addict @writeroutoftime @namelesslosers @elisabethisdead @amirahiddleston @sinfulshelbys @yoheyyosup

Pairing: Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Sister Reader

Word Count: 2801

Type: lots of fluff, violence, swearing

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sound of men cheering, talking loudly and shouting met you, when you pushed open the large entrance to the vehicle factory, in which Tommy and Arthur prepared automobiles for their Russian clients. You knew it was a dream come true for Arthur, working with and on cars being a passion of his and you were happy for your eldest brother. He’d been fighting a lot of demons in the last few years, even though he didn’t want to admit it. And it hurt you to see Tommy banning any personal and emotional battles for the sake of the business, forcing Arthur into a position of having to ignore his feelings, exactly the way Tommy did. But you knew, Arthur was going to break sooner or later. Surely sooner than Tommy.

Your heels clicked on the floor covered in little pools of oil and water, as you walked past the many vehicles, some disassembled, most of them ready for dispatch, towards the hall in the back. You turned around a corner and immediately frowned by the sight that was presented to you.

Around two dozen workers stood around a makeshift boxing ring, following a match going on within the rope. As you got closer, you noticed your two older brothers standing together with Aberama Gold outside the ring, watching the fight take place.

You cursed under your breath, remembering Mr. Gold’s words about seeing each other again soon. The killings at John’s funeral had only been the start of the alliance.

You already dreaded the encounter with Gold after ignoring the handshake he’d offered you when you’d first met. After all, he’d saved you from being shot by the Italian. Meaning, he was the reason you were still alive, and you honestly hadn’t thought about it too much. Until now.

You went around the ring, walking in the direction of Tommy and not paying any attention to the two men throwing and dodging punches. When you stood behind your brother, you tapped him on his shoulder. Startled, he whipped his head around. “What are you doing here?”

“Polly sent me. She’s calling a meeting.”

“Can it wait? I’m busy.”

You scoffed. “With what? Arranging weird boxing matches in the vehicle factory?”

With that, you finally threw a gaze at the boxers. Your breath got caught in your throat when you spotted Bonnie stripped down to his undershirt, hands stuck in red gloves. His movements were quick and even though he wasn’t sending a lot of hits, he somehow seemed to know what he was doing. The only thing concerning you was the obvious fact that his opponent was a heavyweight. And Bonnie clearly wasn't even close to being a heavyweight. The sight made you gulp, and worry settled in your stomach.

“What is Bonnie doing in there?” you gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.

Tommy just shrugged. “That’s what we’re going to see.”

“Your boy knows he can hit back, right?” you heard Arthur tease. Aberama, who was standing next to Arthur, luckily unable to spot you from that position, was quick to respond. “Told him in the professional game people want their money’s worth, don’t win too fast.”

Aberama’s eyes were fixed on his son, watching him carefully. Bonnie swung out and landed a precise hit on the opponent’s face. Another punch followed, only a split second later.

“But if you’ve seen enough …” Aberama said, still not taking his concentrated gaze away from the match. “Finish it, Bonnie!”

That seemed to have been Bonnie’s cue. The larger man hit his gloves together, preparing himself for what was coming. But only a few moments later, it was clear that there hadn’t been a chance for him to prepare himself for what Bonnie was able to do. The heavyweight lunged forward, missing Bonnie by a lot, his fist hitting plain air. That mistake gave Bonnie the chance to take over control and surprise him with powerful strikes into his abdomen. Stunned, the man stumbled backwards, moving his hands to shield his face from the attack. But Bonnie was quicker. He sent a punch from below and then a last one directly at his temple, knocking him out completely.

“Fuck me, that was a punch,” you heard Arthur exclaim, while one of the workers ran up to the heavyweight to help his slumped body onto his feet again. “What’s he got, horseshoes in those gloves or what?”

“No,” Aberama replied, ducking under the rope to get inside the ring, “just his dad’s strength and his mother’s temper.”

Aberama helped his son out of his boxing gloves before Arthur and Tommy moved closer to the Gold’s. That was when you moved a few steps backwards, but not too far away from the scene. You were too intrigued.

“Does he have fits?” Tommy asked.

“No.”

“Asthma?”

Aberama denied again.

“How’s he cut?” Arthur questioned.

“Well, no one’s cut him yet, but his skin’s think.”

You scoffed at the way Bonnie’s father answered all the questions. It just showed you how much control Aberama seemed to have over his son, just like Tommy did with you. Families like yours and Bonnie’s clearly functioned very likewise.

“Does he drink?” Another question from Tommy.

“Water, sometimes.”

“How many fights?”

“Twenty-five, bareknuckle, all knockouts. Five with gloves in pastures, all knockouts,” Aberama boasted, his eyes, filled with a proud gaze, moved back and forth between Tommy and Arthur.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Against Romani fighters?”

“That’s why they won’t let us in the fairs no more, he keeps winning,” Aberama replied, right before Bonnie interrupted with a comment of his own. “I could fight a fucking tree and knock it out, Mr. Shelby.”

His son’s words made Aberama chuckle pridefully and throw an arm around him. Arthur snickered in response to Bonnie’s statement. “I like him, I like him.”

Suddenly you felt somebody push themselves past you, towards your brothers. It was Tommy’s assistant.

You watched him lean forward and whisper something to Tommy. Your brother nodded and answered in a tone, just as quiet. The assistant then ran off, up the stairs to one of the meeting rooms.

Bonnie and his father moved from one side of the ring to the other, giving Arthur and Tommy some time and space to stick their heads together about the boxing matter. You decided to join your brothers, curious about what was going on.

“What was this all about?” you asked, stepping out of your spot behind one of the large wooden pillars in the hall.

“Bonnie wants to fight and we’re deciding on whether we��re going to help or not,” Tommy replied, looking over to the Gold’s.

You let out a scoff. “You mean control him, not help him.”

Tommy let his blue eyes wander back to you, the usual unimpressed, blank stare plastered on them. “Everything I do is business, Y/N.”

“I just want you to see him as a person,” you said, a reproachful tone in your voice. You watched as your brother slightly rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care?” Arthur asked, a little confused about you getting involved in the boxing subject.

You rolled your bottom lips between your teeth. “He seems nice, Arthur. And kind. Something my family often seems to lack.”

Arthur frowned at your remark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying, Arthur.”

Tommy seemed to have enough of your opinion and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, guiding him a bit away from you to talk in private. You watched as they discussed Bonnie’s performance and how they could profit off of it.

It didn’t take long for them to call over Bonnie and Aberama and by the way Arthur pulled out a bundle of cash and started counting the notes, you knew they had agreed on working with the Gold boy. And just before Tommy sped off to the office upstairs, he handed Bonnie a cap. “You’re a Peaky Blinder now, son.”

You noticed Bonnie sending his father an unsure look, but eventually put on the cap when Aberama took the money from Arthur’s hands. The deal was settled, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. Weirdly enough, you were anxious about Bonnie being a Peaky Blinder now. Anxious for the son of a dangerous hitman. The more you thought about it, the more ridiculous it got.

You’d been so caught up in your mind, that you hadn’t noticed the Gold men approaching you. When you lifted your gaze, Arthur was nowhere to be seen.

“Came here to finally properly introduce yourself to us?” Aberama sneered. Bonnie nudged his father, his face showed a hint of embarrassment. “Dad, c’mon.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. I really should apologise.”

Aberama lifted his eyebrows in surprise. He probably didn’t expect a Shelby to ask for forgiveness. At least not this quick.

“I’m aware that I … let’s say, owe you my life in a way? And I wanted to thank you,” you said, a slightly shaky hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You weren’t used to apologising. Being a Peaky Blinder meant you weren’t sorry. For anything. But since you started to distance yourself more and more from being solely associated with your family name, you actually truly wanted to apologise.

“And I’m Y/N, by the way.”

You carefully held out your hand, knowing very well you had left Aberama hanging when he’d introduced himself to you. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to have any bad feelings left, accepting your hand, gripping it firmly and shaking it. Then, he sent you a confirming nod and let go of your hand. “You’re not like the rest of your family, are you?”

“I take that as a compliment,” you said, a small smile creeping onto your face.

Aberama didn’t respond, simply tipping his hat and walking off, leaving you and Bonnie to yourselves.

Your eyes followed Aberama for a while, before they eventually landed on the pretty man in front of you.

“I’m impressed,” you stated, giving him a wider smile than the one you gave his father.

“Have you been watching the entire time?” Bonnie chuckled, scratching the back of his head a little awkwardly.

You nodded. “Polly sent me to call a meeting, but it seems as though neither Tommy nor Arthur felt addressed by it.”

Bonnie let another chuckle escape his lips.

“Anyway,” you said, “I see that you’re one of us now.”

“I am and I’m excited to start training as soon as possible,” Bonnie responded, a wide grin on his face. There was no doubt, that boxing made him happy. A happiness you were still searching for. Making you feel a tiny bit jealous.

Angry at your reaction to his cheerfulness, you swallowed down the lump in your throat. “It doesn’t look like you’ll be following in your father’s footsteps.”

Bonnie shook his head, taking off the cap and running his strong hands through his dark, curly hair. “No, but I don’t think he minds. My goal is to be a professional.”

“I like that, you know?”

“You do?”

You hummed. “I’m not planning on doing anything even close to what my family are doing. Trying to get away from the business, but with the situation we’re in at the moment, that’s not an option. Not right now, at least.”

Bonnie rolled up the cap with his hands. “I didn’t see you at Charlie’s yard after the funeral.”

You sighed. “I needed some time … to myself.”

“I understand,” Bonnie said, giving you a weak smile of comfort. “I’m sorry, about your brother.”

Bonnie’s words sent an unfamiliar warmth to your chest. It reminded you of the feeling you had gotten sat behind him on his horse. So many people had offered their condolences to you, but none of them felt like they truly meant it.

And then there was Bonnie.

“And I’m sorry for what happened at Charlie’s Yard,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground sheepishly. He immediately understood that you were talking about his father wanting to buy the boat yard and Tommy making the disgusting move of involving Bonnie’s eldest sister in the deal. The sacred coin.

“You don’t need to apologise on behalf of your brother, Y/N. It had nothing to do with you,” Bonnie promptly replied, lifting your head up with his index and middle finger. The subtle, but intimate gesture made your heart beat faster.

“It was still quite the dick move,” you murmured, trying to escape his mesmerising hazel eyes.

Bonnie laughed. “Yes, it was. But the good thing is, Charlie still has his yard.”

You were in absolute awe of Bonnie’s personality. So positive and kind. The complete opposite of what the Gold’s represented. What is father represented.

“Can I ask you something?”

You tilted your head curiously. “Anything.”

“What did you mean when you told Tommy about feeling safe with me?”

You cursed at yourself internally. You’d almost forgotten that you had said that out loud. It had felt right momentarily, letting go of everything you had been bottling up, but thinking about now made you cringe.

Your desperate tries to avoid his stare were useless. All of his attention was directed at you, burning into your skin, impossible for you ignore. So, you looked up and met his gaze.

“Can I like … take it back?” you chuckled, trying to turn the topic into something funny.

He grinned, shaking his head. “Fuck no.”

You let out a groan, burying your head in your hands. “I just really loved your company, for a change.”

Bonnie let out a laugh. “Only for a change?”

You moved your head back up, rolling your eyes, with a grin on your lips. “You know what I mean. You’re different and I like that.”

“Different because I don’t want to cut out people’s eyes and shoot them in the head for a living?”

You giggled. “Yes, that too. But mostly because you care. I knew you cared about me being safe, back at the funeral. And I knew you meant it, when you said you were sorry for what happened to my brother.”

Bonnie seemed to be overwhelmed by your confession, a cute shade of pink appearing on his cheeks. “Uh– I’m glad you felt that way. Although, I am concerned that you feel like nobody else cares about you.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed, your voice traced with sadness. “I just hate the way everything is about business. It’s as if feelings and emotions are prohibited in this family.”

You heard Bonnie sigh as well. Then, he put a hand on your upper arm, giving it a squeeze. Gentle enough to comfort you, strong enough to let you know you weren’t alone.

“Would you like a hug?”

Bonnie cleared his throat, when he noticed you staring at him in surprise. “I’m sorry if this was awkward, I–“

“No,” you cut him off, “I would really like a hug.”

The way he had asked you, had made your stomach erupt in thousands of butterflies. Tickling your insides in a manner that was wonderful and annoying at the same time. The way he didn’t just pull you into an embrace without making sure you were comfortable with the closeness.

Bonnie smiled down at you and let go of your arm before wrapping his muscular arms around you. Your cheek was softly pressed against his chest and his pleasant scent made its way into your nose, briefly numbing every part of your body.

Too early, Bonnie pulled back again. “Feeling a little bit better?”

“A lot,” you admitted, sensing your cheeks imitating the colour Bonnie’s had before. Although you were convinced it wasn’t the same sweet pink, but a deep cherry red.

“You’re very beautiful, you know that?” Bonnie suddenly said.

You placed your cool hands on your flushed cheeks, trying to calm them down, but it was useless. The heat just travelled further to your ears, making this whole encounter even more embarrassing for you.

“Are you flirting with me, Bonnie Gold?” you asked.

He laughed. “Of course, I am! Would’ve been very awkward if you were that oblivious.”

You playfully hit his arm and opened your mouth to respond to his cheeky remark, but were suddenly interrupted by a loud voice.

“Bonnie! Let the lady be, we need to get going!”

Aberama’s voice resounded in the wide, open factory hall. Bonnie pinched the bridge of his nose in slight annoyance.

“I need to get going,” he announced. You chuckled. “I heard.”

“Even if it doesn’t seem like it, I’m not dependent on my father.”

Your chuckle turned into laughter. “Understood.”

Then, he sent you a last, beautiful smile, his white, gorgeous teeth shining from behind his lips. “I’ll see you around. I’ll make sure of it.”

[sometimes-i-write-4-you]

Hi!! I'm so glad that I found someone who writes for Hyde so well!! I was wondering if you could write a hyde x reader where she has a bad home situation and one night can't stand it so she leaves but hyde catches her before she gets out of town and brings her back to stay with him in the basement because he refuses to let someone he loves be miserable and run away. I love your writing so much!

(not) just some girl - Steven Hyde x reader

a\n: idk how i feel about this one lol

trigger warnings: parents fighting, her mom wants her to lose weight but it’s barley mentiond, lmk if i missed something!

word count: 1193

I was sitting in my room, headphones on to filter the yelling. My parents were fighting, again. I don't even know what it was this time. In the morning it was about my dad punishing me without talking about it with my mom, then it turned into an argument over how my dad blames her for every single wrong thing i do, then it was quiet because I went to school. I barley came in when I heard them yelling about the fact my dad should take more action in the house. He got laid off work, and he's on a no-pay vacation.

They were yelling all the time, repeating the same sentences and the same topics. My eyes travel to the floor where I can see my bag peeps. The bag I prepared for the day I'll run away. It had everything I needed: cash, clothing and some snacks. It was also my secret candy stash, cause my mom was "on a diet" and candy were not allowed. The thing is, my mom hasn't changed her eating, this rule was her way to tell me I should go on a diet.

The only thing keeping me here was him. Steven Hyde. He may be a devil, but he's an angel sent for me, and no one can convince me otherwise. Ever since we met, my life got better. Signifyingly better: I was finally leaving the house to hang out with friends, and spent many nights sleeping over at Donna's, the Forman's, even Jackie's. The only ones I avoided having a sleep over with were Kelso and Fez, for obvious reasons.

The thing is Hyde means to me more then I will ever mean to him. he was the first person to make me smile in years, the first one I trusted enough to talk about my parents and the first one I fell for. Sure, we hooked up a few times, but for him it was just a pass-time activity. For him I was just some girl.

Maybe I should do it. Just take the bag and go. There's a bus that leaves Kenosha in 5:00 PM. I can get out of this town, maybe out of Wisconsin. Go somewhere where I won't get yelled at, and I won't be surrounded in yelling. A place where I can eat as much candy as I can.

The candy addiction was Fez's fault. he rarely shared his candy, but when he first met me, he agreed to make an exception if I'll kiss him, so I did. On the cheek. "you never specified where to kiss you" I said when he looked at me all disappointed. Hyde thought it was hilarious, and the whole group got a nice laugh out of it. I got candy.

If I'm leaving, better say goodbye first, right? To my friends. My friends who got along perfectly before they met me, and they will continue to have a happy life when I'm gone. The yelling got so loud, even my headphones didn't block it, so I take the beg and stuff my 

"-piece of shit! You sit here all day, watching TV. I do everything. I help them with homework, I cook, and I'm working!" my mom yells as I pass the hall quickly. "oh, you're being ridicules! I helped (y\n) with her homework!". Yeah, when I was seven years old, I think, and thankfully arrive the back door without questions, and soon enough I'm at the bus Station.

A familiar face is waiting there. "Hi (y\n)" Steven smiled at me. Once I was close enough, he wrapped his arms around my waist and placed a kiss on my lips. "where you goin' with this bag?" he asks, eyes traveling down my body till they land on the beg. "I- uh, out of town, visiting my aunt" I make up as he steps back, putting his hands back in his pockets.

"your parents don't have siblings" he says. I'm surprised he remembered. "really? Wow. Guess I'm just going out of town then" I say, laughing awkwardly. "why?" He asks, "I mean your parents are shit but most of the time with me and the rest of the group" he says. "yeah, I know, I just-"

"look, if Kelso or Fez are making you uncomfortable, I can talk to them, you know? You don't have to leave" he cuts me off, and I smile at him sadly. "yeah, but I can't stay, Steven" I say, finally making eye contact with him just in time to see something in his eyes shifts. Using his first name made him realize how serious this is. "but what about us?" he asked. "what us?" I ask, "come on, Hyde, we've known each other for months and we hooked up more times than I can count but it's not like I mean anything to you". He looks at me, sadness in his eyes and I think… I think I hurt him. "(y\n), you really think you mean nothing to me?" he asked me, and I nodded.

"yeah, I mean, that's just who you are. You're not the type to fall in love, I get it" I say, flashing a sad smile. "what did I do to ever make you feel like I don't care about you? (y\n), you are so important to me" he said, taking a step closer and hesitantly resting his hands on my arms. "see, you say that, and everyone says that, you know? My mom said that, do you think she will notice if I'll disappear? Cause I don't" I say. My bus is in 1 minutes.

"(y\n), I haven't been with any other girl since we started… this" he said, finger pointing at me and then him, "cause for once In my life I don't feel like I want every random hot girl, I look at a chick and it's like 'yeah, she's ok, but she's not (y\n)" he says, and I'm surprised at his words. I think it's visible.

"what are you trying to say?" I ask him, forcing my eyes to look into his. "that... I guess that… fuck, man, I love you. And I'm not letting you leave this town. You're coming with me to the Forman's, spend the night with me and we'll find a better solution tomorrow, okay?" he asked.

I can see the bus coming, and my eyes move back and forth – bus, Steven, run away, stay, bus, Steven, new and scary, familiar and safe, bus, Steven, bus…

"Steven" I break the silence, "let's go". He smiles at me and take my hands, placing them on his shoulder. His hands get comfortable around my waist and he leans down to kiss me, but before our lips meet, he stops.

"what's wrong?" I ask, surprised. He just told me he loves me, why is he- wait, he just told me he loves me. "Steven, I love you" I say, and pull myself up. I was right, the fact I didn't say it back was what bothered him, because he kissed back, and I could feel him smile against my lips as we moved in sync.

tag list: @sadhappywhatever

[rattlingbrainbox]

More John and Arthur modern au brotherly stuff.

I think a lot about John and Arthur and their dynamics as brothers.

And I like to imagine a modern timeline where Hosea adopted Arthur, and shortly after Hosea gets together with Dutch while Arthur is still kinda young and they raise him together. But then they adopt John later on and Arthur & John become brothers that still have that big age gap.

And Dutch and Hosea run some sort of small business that takes up a lot of their time. And Arthur has a rotating array of minimum wage jobs to help with bills, and takes classes sporadically at the local community college (at Hosea’s behest mostly, but he likes his art classes). But that leaves John as a kind of latch-key kid that has to fend for himself a lot of times, and so Arthur does his best to look out for him.

Anyway...

This is all a big preamble to the fact that I wrote a short little blurb about this modern timeline and I wanted to share it with y'all. Lol

Disclaimer, I am by NO MEANS a writer of any sort. But this was a funny little idea that I kept kicking around in my mind. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did.

Spare Change

Arthur pulled his truck up to the front of the house and let out a long sigh. He slid out of the driver’s seat and walked around to the passenger side to grab his delivery bag, slamming the door a little harder than he intended. 

“Here we go” he muttered under his breath, turning to walk up the driveway. 

The front door of the house swung wide open before he had a chance to knock.

“What? I was hungry.” John said, already anticipating the sharp glare his older brother was wearing. He was standing in the doorway looking up at Arthur with his arms crossed defiantly. 

“Yeah, I'm sure you were.” Arthur grumbled, “Alright c’mon. Pay up, I got real orders to get to.”

There was an expectant silence. They stared at each other for a long moment before John cleared his throat.

“...they didn't leave me any cash.”

“Are you shittin' me, John!?” Arthur snarled in disbelief, pressing his palm to his forehead in exasperation. If only it had been the first time the kid had tried to pull this stunt. At least then he might've felt a little bit bad about it. 

“C'mon, Arthur! I'll pay you back.” John pleaded.

"You better believe you will" Arthur threatened, "And I mean you, not them" he said gesturing toward the house, implying fathers who weren't home. 

He muttered to himself again as he used his free hand to remove his wallet from his back pocket. He looked inside for a few moments, mentally counting, and then put it back. 

"You're lucky I have cash...What the hell did I teach you to make omelettes for, huh? Ordering a damn pizza with no money. From my damn job no less...”  

“I didn’t want an omelette! I ate like six omelettes this week!” John protested. 

Arthur scoffed and relinquished his grip on the pizza box with palpable dissatisfaction. John ripped the box from Arthur's hands with victorious glee, instantly abandoning his appeals for sympathy. 

"This is the last time, John, I swear. I ain’t payin’ for it next time.”

"Okay, okay...Thanks! Don’t forget to give yourself a tip!”  the younger boy teased, clumsily attempting to shut the door before his older brother could retaliate.

“Ha! Uh huh. Little shit” Arthur shook his head, almost turning to leave when he saw the dim electronic glow emanating from the living room. 

“Hey!” 

Arthur caught the door with his hand, prying it back open before John could close it completely. 

“I can see that tv on, John. Do your homework. You can’t get another F, you hear me? I can’t drive you anymore if you change schools again.”

“Yeah I know. Thanks third dad” John said, rolling his eyes. 

“Alright, get in the damn house. You’re lucky I drive you at all.” Arthur retorted, shooting his younger brother a particularly venomous glare. He paused, his expression softening just a touch, and then added, “I’ll be back in two hours.”

“Ok bye. You got real orders to get to!” John replied impatiently, balancing the pizza box in one hand. 

The door slammed shut the minute Arthur released it from his grip. He could hear the lock click into place instantaneous, followed by the volume on the tv blaring back up.

"The nerve of this kid" he mused to himself, heading back to his truck.

[bitchloveskcbaseball]

Stitches

Pairing: Logan x OC (Charlotte Wheeler)

Summary: Charlotte is surprised by a face from her past and doesn’t know what to do about it.

Warnings: Really really strong language (my girl has a filthy mouth lol), car accident and a flash back to Detective Wheeler holding a gun at Logan.

Word Count: 7822 (this is literally the longest single piece I’ve ever finished)

Disclaimer: Logan and Detective Wheeler belong to Pixelberry and Charlotte is based off of the RoD MC

A/N: This is my contribution to @rodappreciationweek for Logan (obviously lol). The name comes from Shawn Mendes’s Stitches, mostly because I got some serious inspiration of how I wanted this to go when I was really really stuck from listening to it. Also, there are parts of that song that seem really relevant to this story. 

Also, I borrowed the names of a few characters from the Fast and Furious franchise, but they appear in name only.

How soon can you get here?

Rolling her eyes at the text despite the fact that he'd never see it, Charlotte typed out a quick response. Told you earlier…not coming tonite

I need you here.

I am not comin all the way down there just to fill out your field.

Seconds later, her phone started to ring and she debated letting it go to voicemail, but knew she'd never hear the end of it if she did. Swiping across the screen to answer, Charlotte snipped, "Seriously, Paul?"

"Hear me out, Lottie. There's fresh blood here tonight and he's lookin’ for a race."

"You know I don't -- "

"He's talkin’ 10k."

She was so stunned that it took her several beats before she muttered, "You shittin' me?"

Paul let out a humorless laugh and replied, "Not in the slightest. But he says he'll only race you."

"Me? How the fuck does he even know who I am if he's new?"

"Well he didn't ask for you by name or anything. He just told me he heard about this girl that hasn't lost a race in the past year. Said if I could set up a race with her he'd put down the 10k."

"Shit. Um…can you buy me like twenty minutes?"

"Anything for you, Lottie. And that 10k, of course."

After hanging up without so much as a goodbye to Paul, Charlotte raced around, grabbing her keys and wallet before running out to her most prized and precious possession. It was one of the very few items she still had left from Los Angeles, but even it had changed since then. The 2015 Stuttgart 999 Widow that had once been a bold blue was now painted in a deep royal purple with lime green accenting the sleek lines she loved so much. She took a few extra minutes in the garage, quickly running through her pre-race checklist before sliding behind the steering wheel.

Eighteen minutes after her call with Paul ended, Charlotte was pulling up to the starting line. The crowd, which was always large, loud and intense for Paul's races, was even more electric than normal as everyone buzzed over the unusually high stakes that had been thrown down by the newcomer. The fact that he was driving a Devore GT probably didn't hurt either.

Shoving away the sharp pang she felt deep in her gut every time she saw one of those cars, she cut the engine off and climbed out to go greet Paul. Since there were literally hundreds, if not over a thousand, pairs of eyes on them, Charlotte just gave him a fist bump in greeting, knowing she couldn’t afford to have anyone there thinking she got special treatment just because of their close friendship.

"There's my girl!"

“Oh shove it Paul. You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Why do you think I still do it? Especially before a race?” When she only narrowed her eyes at him, Paul took the hint and got down to business. "You got the dough?"

Charlotte scoffed, "When do I not?"

"Hey, you know I gotta ask." Holding his hand out, Paul just smirked as she laid the thick envelope in his hand.

"Don't get too used to that feeling. You know you gonna be handing all that plus another stack back to me in a few."

Despite the way his brows knitted together and he shook his head in her direction, Paul didn't say anything in response, much to her surprise, as he made his way over to her competitor. Usually she got at least one reminder to not get ahead of herself or get over confident, but she couldn't say she was disappointed to miss out on that.

Rolling her shoulders to release the last of the tension her rushed departure and drive had caused, she turned around to return to her car and felt her breath catch as her eyes landed on the stranger. Not that he was actually a stranger. At least not in the purest sense of the word. What in the hell is he doing here?  Charlotte stood, frozen, for what felt like hours but was really only a few seconds before her brain finally jump-started itself. Pulling her gaze away from the all-too familiar face, she forced herself to focus on steadying her breathing and mentally running through the course pattern - basically anything she could do to keep her mind off of him.

"Hey, Lottie! You ready girl?"

Bristling, she barely bit back the string of curse words she wanted to unleash on Paul as she plastered on her fakest smile and eased down into the driver's seat. Voice dripping with sugar, she answered, "Always."

Devilish grin breaking out across his face, Paul turned his attention back to the Devore and hollered, "How 'bout you, new guy?"

Shit. Realizing the last thing she needed before a twenty thousand dollar race was his voice haunting her, Charlotte hastily reached up to turn the keys but ended up almost knocking them out of the ignition. Double shit. The second attempt was slightly better, her fingers actually closing around the keys this time, but her hand was shaking so bad that she couldn't get them to turn. For fuck's sake, Charlotte. Get your shit together and calm the fuck down! After taking a deep breath to center herself, the third attempt was successful and she let out a sigh of relief as the loud roar of the performance engine surrounded her.

"Ok y'all! One minute 'til that flag drops!"

Charlotte released a shaky breath and tightened her hands around the steering wheel. Normally, this minute was Charlotte’s favorite with the delicious anticipation thrumming through her veins and the deep rumble of the powerful engine beneath her finding perfect synchronicity. But this time it was torture. It was taking every single ounce of self-control she possessed to keep her focus on the street ahead of her, on the task in front of her. She shook herself, trying to ease the tension in her body. She’d never be able to beat him if she didn’t loosen up, and she sure as hell was not losing to that fucker. Never again.

After what seemed like an eternity, Paul was stepping back up to the line, flag in hand. Taking one last, deep-cleansing breath, she felt everything but the road melt away as his hand went in the air. This was the one thing she could always count on. This was her one, true escape and she would not let him ruin it.

Just like the hundreds of times before over the past year, as soon as the flag dropped, Charlotte effortlessly worked her way up the gears, shooting out to the lead. If she had been in tune with her beautiful beast before leaving L.A., then they were basically one being – one machine – now. This track was a set up that Paul hadn’t used since her very first race out here, and the irony didn’t escape her. Knock it the fuck off, Charlotte. Focus. You have to win this race.

Throughout the whole race, there he was, right off her back bumper, his Devore GT – now a deep blue – haunting her, much like his memory had since he’d left her crying on her dad’s front lawn. A couple of times he even inched ahead, but these were her streets and she instinctively knew the perfect places to use to regain her advantage. Even with that knowledge, they were so close together when they crossed the line that she wasn’t actually sure which one of them won until Paul came up and pulled her into a tight hug with a huge smile on his face.

“Damn, Troublem -- ”

Pulling away from Paul, Charlotte whirled around, eyes shooting icy daggers. “Don’t you fucking dare! You do not get to fucking call me that anymore, asshole.”

“Whoa… Char --”

“Not that either, Logan. You don’t get to call me anything. I don’t even know why you think you get to talk to me.”

“C’mon now. Don’t be like this.” If Charlotte hadn’t known better, she’d have thought Logan was actually begging her.

“Don’t be like what? You made your choice and this is mine! I dunno what the hell you’re doing here and I honestly don’t give a fuck. Unless you are looking for a free facial arrangement, I’d suggest you keep yourself far out of my sight until you leave.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned back to Paul and, ignoring the questions swirling in his eyes, held out her hand. Forcing a calm she didn’t quite feel into her voice, she arched an eyebrow and sassed, “I think you owe me a huge stack of cash, mister. And at least a couple of milkshakes.”

Scrunching up his face as he placed the money in her hand, he parroted, “Milkshakes?”

“It’s the least you can do after calling me ‘girl’ twice tonight.”

Hands up in surrender, Paul conceded, “Milkshakes it is.”

After a half an hour of avoiding Logan while Paul finished up for the night and then another half an hour of racing across the city towards Charlotte’s favorite all-night diner, the pair was finally settling into her favorite booth across from each other. Before she could really get comfortable, however, he started hurtling questions at her. “So that was the Logan? What’s he doin’ here? Why didn’t you tell me he was here? How -- “

“Paul!” His rambling having ceased, Charlotte raised an eyebrow and asked, “You do realize I can only answer your questions if you actually let me talk, right?”

“Yeah, yeah...Technicalities.”

Rolling her eyes, she sighed, “Well, which one do you want me to answer first?”

“Was that really…”

“Yes. That was the Logan, as you put it. And in answer to the follow up, I have no idea why he’s here. I wouldn’t have even known he was in town if you hadn’t called me down for that friggin’ race.”

“Hon, I’m so sor -- “

Waving his apology off, Charlotte reassured, “I’m fine, Paul. Really. Sure it threw me a little bit when I first saw him, but beating his ass like that sure helped. Yelling at him didn’t hurt either.”

As Paul’s brows furrowed, she could tell that he didn’t believe her even before he asked, “You sure?”

Ignoring the way her chest still felt like someone had tied a rope around her heart, she smiled. “Absolutely. Plus I’m ten grand richer for it.” She waited until his expression had relaxed slightly before changing the subject by prodding, “You gonna order my milkshake or do I hafta revoke your best friend card for leaving me hanging like this?”

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Paul stuck his hand up in the air to call the waitress over to their table. Taking advantage of his distraction, Charlotte let out a quiet sigh. If only she could convince herself as easily as she did him that Logan’s appearance hadn’t affected her.

~-~-~-~-~-~-

"Be the real you. The one that was always waiting to come out."

Choked by the tears she was trying to hold back, Charlotte whispered, "I don't know how to be her without you."

Reaching up to run his fingers through the hair at her temple, Logan insisted, "Yes, you do. You've always had this strength inside of you. I saw it that very first time we met. You just needed a little help finding it."

"No, I don’t! I need you. I need you to stay!"

"You know I can't stay, Charlotte. No matter how much I wish I could, I can't put you at risk like that."

"Then take me with you!"

"Baby... That's not the life for you."

"The only life I need is with you!"

He pulled her against his chest and Charlotte instinctively tucked her face into the crook of his neck, fisting her hands in the front of his shirt. Dropping his head so his lips were brushing over her ear, he whispered, "No. You deserve so much more. You deserve a real life and that can't include me. I was just a rock in space lucky enough to burn up in your atmosphere for a moment."

"No. You are so much more than that!"

"No, I'm not, Troublemaker. Not really. But I'll never regret a single second I spent with you. Even if I hate how it all started -- how I lied to you -- it gave me all of this precious time. I'd never trade that for anything."

While she was desperately searching for something, anything she could say to change his mind, to convince him to take her with him, Logan pressed a kiss to her temple. "I love you, Charlotte. So much."

"Then take me - " Senses on high alert after all of the drama of the night, Charlotte froze when she heard a slight rustling coming from behind Logan. Raising her head to look over his shoulder, Charlotte locked eyes with her father who was standing there with his gun trained on Logan's back. "Dad! Don't!"

"Shut up, Charlotte. This is between me and the thug."

"No, Dad! It's not - "

"Shh, baby. It's ok." Gently pushing against her shoulders, Logan separated himself from her before turning to face her father. Even without being able to see his face, she could feel the resignation rolling off of him.

"Logan...Don’t..."

"Charlotte, go inside. Now."

"Not until you put that fucking gun away. You don’t fucking need it. He isn’t a threat. To you and especially not to me."

His eyes flicking back to hers for the briefest of seconds, she saw her father's shoulders slump with his silent sigh as he dropped his arms to his side. His gaze hardened as he hissed, "You have ten seconds."

"Dad!"

Logan turned back to her, cupping her cheek to force her gaze back to his own. Running his thumb underneath her eye to catch the stray tear that had escaped, he leaned down and brushed a ghost of a kiss across her lips. He gave her hip a gentle squeeze before pulling away from her and walking back to his Devore GT. There was a moment of total quiet after he slid inside it and hope sparked within Charlotte. He’s waiting for me. But before she could take a step in that direction, the engine roared to life and he peeled off down the street. The tears she'd been fighting all night finally broke free, pouring down her face and tearing sobs from her chest, as she stared after the man and machine she'd come to love with her entire heart until she couldn't see the taillights any more.

Despite the agony ripping through her heart, an intense fury flooded her veins and she whirled around on her father.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

"With me? You better watch your tone, girl."

No longer giving a shit about who heard or saw them, Charlotte shrieked, "Yes, with you! He was already leaving! You'd gotten your goddamn wish already! Why? Why did you have to pull a fucking gun on him? Why couldn't you just let me say goodbye?"

"He's a goddamn criminal, Charlotte! You don't need to say goodbye to him. You should never have been spending time with him in the first place. I raised you better than that!"

"No. You didn't raise me. You tried to control me. You tried to keep me in a little box. To keep me from ever growing up. From ever making one goddamn decision on my own. You never gave a shit about what I wanted. Never even fucking listened to me."

"Don't you dare - "

"Oh shut up! I'm done. I'm done with you treating me like a fucking puppet. I'm done with you trying to control everything I do. I'm fucking done with you."

"If you are going to live under my roof -- "

"God, don't you get it? I'm not. I'm not going to spend time with you. I'm not going to live with you. I'm not going to talk to you. I'm done with you. For good."

Charlotte bolted upright as she tore herself from the dream, tears streaming down her face. It had been over six months since she’d last been forced to face that memory by her subconscious and she’d foolishly believed it wouldn’t happen again. Of course, she also hadn’t anticipated finding herself face to face with Logan ever again, so it was really just a series of miscalculations that had led her to this point.

She took a shuddering breath as she tried to stem the flow of tears, unwelcome flashes of that day still rolling through her mind. True to her word, it had been the last time she’d spoken to her father -- she’d stayed with Riya while she waited for her car’s repairs to be finished so she could head east -- and she couldn’t say that she regretted it at all. 

Logan, on the other hand, was a much more painful subject. All she had wanted those first few months after he’d raced out of her life was to chase him down. To convince him that being with him wasn’t ruining her life, but rather giving her everything she’d never known she’d needed. But she had no idea where he’d gone and didn’t have a damned clue as to how she would go about finding out. So she forced her way into the racing scene out here instead, using the time behind the wheel and under the hood to give herself an escape from all the thoughts and emotions swirling within her. 

All of her time spent begging her way into races also meant she ended up spending a lot of time around Paul, which was how they ended up forming such a tight bond. Even still, she couldn’t seem to really let him in, only telling him the bits and pieces he needed to understand why she was the way she was. By some miracle, that was enough for him, and he’d been there for her ever since, putting her back together when she shattered, talking her down when she raged. Despite the walls she kept between them, somehow this friendship had become even deeper than the one she’d once shared for so long with Riya.

Reaching a shaking hand out towards her nightstand, she grabbed her phone to call Paul. Despite how late it was, it only took two rings before she heard his voice, thick with sleep, rumbling in her ear. “‘S wrong, hon?”

Throat clogged by tears, Charlotte’s voice was wobbly as she only managed to force out, “It -- it was that dream.”

“I’m on my way.”

“No...no...don’t do that.”

“Lottie -- “

“Paul. I “ -- Charlotte let out a deep sigh -- “I don’t need you to come over. Just...just talk to me for a bit. Take my mind off of it.”

Not bothering to disguise his doubt, Paul asked, “You sure? I can be there in like fifteen minutes this time of night.”

“I’m sure. I just need a distraction.”

“So, you weren’t really okay with him just showing up like that, huh?”

“Paul.”

“What?”

“That isn’t distracting me.”

“Answer the question first.”

Groaning with frustration, she huffed, “Fine. I’m not okay. It threw me for a goddamn loop to see him there. Stole my fucking breath. Broke my heart all over again. Happy now?”

“Fuck, Lottie. Of course, I’m not happy! I just...I wish you wouldn’t shut me out all the damn time. I’d never left you alone tonight if I’d known.”

“I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I just hated the idea that he still has such a damn hold over me. I couldn’t stand admitting that I am that weak.”

“Hon, that doesn’t make you weak. That makes you human.”

“But how? How does he still have this power over me? After all this time? After the way he -- “

“Because that’s love. It’s never easy. It’s almost always messy. And when it is really real, it doesn’t let go, even when you desperately want it to.”

“But it wasn’t real! He wouldn’t have left me if it was real!”

“Shit.” Paul made an almost strangled noise before muttering, “I’m not trying to upset you more, Lottie. But I need you to do something you have refused to do all this time. I need you to look at it from his perspective.” Charlotte scoffed derisively, but Paul ignored it. “He didn’t leave you because he didn’t love you. He left you because he did. He wanted you to have the life that you had planned before he came bursting into it. And he knew that wasn’t possible if you were with him.”

“But -- “

“Dammit, Charlotte, no. You are gonna fucking listen to me this time. I understand that that wasn’t the life you wanted anymore, but look at it from his perspective. Going to college, going to Langston, had been your plan for years. You had known him for what? A couple months? Of course, it was gonna seem to him like you weren’t thinking it through. That you were making a rash decision. He didn’t want to be the reason you had regrets.”

Charlotte sat, stunned, in silence for several moments, trying desperately to find fault in Paul’s argument. Because he couldn’t be right. The only way she’d even started to put herself back together was by holding onto the anger she felt at how Logan had toyed with her, lied to her. If Paul was right and Logan had actually done it out of love? It would destroy her.

“Lottie?”

“Whatever. I don’t need this bullshit. Thanks for nothing.” For the second time that day, she hung up on him without a goodbye.

~-~-~-~-~-

Paul’s eyebrows shot clear up to his hairline when he locked eyes with her, and Charlotte couldn’t hold back her laugh. “You look as though you’ve never seen a badass bitch like me here before.”

Surprise coloring his tone, Paul stammered, “I, uh… I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Especially after I told you he was here.”

“Fuck him. I’m not gonna hide like some scared little bitch just because of him. I’m not gonna let him win like that.”

Paul’s lips pursed and his nose scrunched up as he opened his mouth to say something, but apparently the sharp look she shot him had him reconsidering because he just shook his head at her instead.

Satisfied that he was going to let the subject drop, at least for the moment, Charlotte asked, “You got any open slots tonight?”

“What happened to not runnin’ in my races? To worrying about people thinkin’ I’m playin’ favorites?”

Ignoring the derision in his voice, she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really care tonight. I’m just looking for a thrill ride, to be honest.” I’m looking for a goddamn escape from this endless loop of loss and pain I’ve been in since my eyes landed on him yesterday.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?”

“Do you really think questioning me is a good idea? Or turning me down, for that matter? We both know how well I draw a crowd.”

His eyes were conflicted as he studied her, clearly torn between what was good for business and what he thought was good for his friend. Eyes narrowing in impatience, she prodded, “Well, you got room for me or not? It’s not that hard of a fucking question, Paul.”

His shoulders fell and she let a smug smirk spread across her face. “Fine. Yes, I need a fourth in the last race tonight.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me down, lover.”

“Yet that’s what I feel like I just did.”

Brushing his concern off with a wave of her hand, she couldn’t resist asking, “Is he set to race at all tonight?”

“He actually already did a run. Totally demolished Hector, Suki and Tej.”

“Not surprised. Those three are good, but they aren’t smooth enough to out-maneuver Logan.”

Paul chuckled, “Yeah, I think they’ve got that figured out now.”

Longing over what could have been threatened to suffocate her, so she shook her head in an attempt to clear her mind and changed the subject back to a safer area by asking, “Okay, so how long ‘til I’m up?”

“Well, lucky for your late-arrivin’ ass, you only have about half an hour til I’m gonna call y’all to the line.”

“Perfect. I’m gonna go do a quick once-over on Eva then.”

“Like that car actually needs it. It’s more perfect now than it ever would have been comin’ off the line.”

Charlotte shot him a wink over her shoulder as she headed back towards her car. “You know me, lover. I’m all about thorough perfection.”

Approximately thirty-four minutes later, Charlotte was cursing herself as she slipped back to fourth after taking the hairpin corner too fast and too wide. She hadn’t driven this badly since she’d been back in L.A. and, if she were being honest with herself, it was because her concentration was absolute shit. Snippets of memories kept flashing across her mind: her first driving lesson with Logan, picking out her car at the garage, her first job with the crew. As if she could banish the thoughts by driving faster, she pressed the throttle down a little harder. It was something she would never do under normal conditions, knowing that keeping control was her only shot at regaining her lost position, but nothing had been normal in over twenty-four hours. I have to fucking win this. He can’t know how bad he’s rattled me.

Through the next few turns, she could feel the razor’s edge she was balanced on, the tires squealing as they fought to maintain their hold on the pavement, but that only spurred her on as she retook third and then second place. Coming up on the next to last corner, a hard right hander, she was back on the bumper of the car in first. She knew that this was her best shot at getting an edge on him, so she dove deep into the turn, but memories of Logan walking away from her popped into her head, shattering what was left of her focus.

Charlotte recognized the tell-tale silence of the tires leaving the pavement before she felt the car start to tilt. Focus snapping back into place, she tried steering into it, hoping she could correct her mistake and even out, but it was too late. Time seemed to slow as her car started tumbling, her heart aching over how much damage the bridge support she knew she was hurtling towards was going to do to her beloved car. As the sickening crunch of metal meeting concrete overwhelmed her senses, Logan’s face filled her mind until everything went black.

~-~-~-~-~-

The first thing that Charlotte recognized as she started to regain consciousness was the tight grip on her left hand. The second was the beeping that was sending piercing pain through her head. She tried to peel her eyes open, but the smallest sliver of light was so excruciating that she instantly clamped them closed again. Where am I?

“Logan?” Charlotte groaned. Even the sound of her own voice hurt. Why am I in so much pain?

“No, sweetheart.” The hand holding her own squeezed gently. “It’s Paul.”

Her face scrunched up but she quickly tried to relax when the movement sent sharp pricks of pain through it. “Paul?” I know that name. How do I know that name?

“Yeah, uh… You know, Paul, your best friend?” Even through her haze she could hear the concern ratchet up in her companion’s voice.

Suddenly, as if someone had pulled open the curtains in her mind, the fog within it lifted and pieces started clicking into place. The dream, the memories, the accident -all playing through her mind like a movie. Her eyes flew open as she tried to turn towards Paul, whimpering pathetically as her body protested the movement.

Free hand coming up to run soothingly along her temple, Paul murmured, “Easy, sweetheart. Easy. You really did a number on yourself.”

“How bad…”

“You’ve gotta really bad concussion, a broken arm, some bruised ribs and quite a few cuts and scrapes. Your spleen ruptured so they had to take that out. Plus, I’m guessing you are basically one huge bruise right now.” When his grip tightened this time, she could feel how terrified he’d been.

Desperate to reassure him she was okay and lighten his mood, Charlotte smiled as best she could with a split lip and playfully chided, “I meant Eva, ya goofball.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed and she sucked in a breath. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

“Are you serious right now?”

What started as a joke quickly turned serious when she didn’t get an answer. Her car had to be in pretty bad shape if he wasn’t even going to brush her off with a reassurance that it would be fine. “Well, sorta? I mean, you know what she means to me. I need to know how bad I messed her up.”

“I… I can’t fuckin’ believe you.” Dropping her hand as if it was burning his skin, he pushed out of his chair and paced over to look out the window.

“Paul. C’mon. You had to know I was gonna ask.”

“You could have fuckin’ died, Charlotte.” His voice was so quiet she almost couldn’t hear him from the bed even though he was only two feet away.

Ignoring her impulse to snap at him for using her full name, she kept her tone gentle as she reminded him, “But I didn’t.”

Whirling on her, his eyes held a fire she’d never seen before. “I don’t even know why I fuckin’ bother. You wake up after bein’ out for three friggin’ days and the first person you ask for is that goddamn asshole? And then your next question is about the car?”

“Paul -- “

“Whatever. So glad you’re still alive.” Before Charlotte could even open her mouth to reply, Paul was already storming out of her room.

Hours later, she was still staring at the ceiling, wondering how things had escalated so quickly. Why she’d been such a bitch to the only person who seemed to give a damn about her. How her heart seemed to hurt even worse than her battered body did. Everything seemed to circle back to one central thought. Everything was fine until Logan showed up. Why did he always have to ruin her life?

~-~-~-~-~-

A little over a week later, Charlotte was going out of her mind with boredom at home. She’d been released a few days after she’d woken up, but she hadn’t heard from Paul since he’d stormed out. And seeing as how he was the only friend she’d made here, it left her feeling extremely isolated and with too much time to think. She’d run through her mistakes leading up to the accident at least a hundred times. The fight with Paul had circulated through her mind a few hundred more times than that. 

But the thing that she couldn’t escape at all was her run in with Logan, her brain constantly firing questions about it. How did he find me? Why did he find me? Did he ever really love me? Should I have listened to him when he wanted to talk?

Letting out a groan of frustration, she tried to bury the thoughts as she grabbed her phone off of her chair’s armrest. Pulling up Paul’s number, she was about to hit send to try calling him for the thirty-seventh time when her doorbell rang. Damn, does he have ESP or something?

“It’s open!” As soon as the words left her mouth, Charlotte cringed, knowing she was in for one hell of a lecture about leaving her door unlocked.

“You know, considering you’re the daughter of a cop, you aren’t very smart about security sometimes.”

The sound of Logan’s voice had her flinching so hard that she had to bite back a groan as her hand instinctively came up to cradle her ribs. Her voice was still a little breathless as Logan came around the corner into her living room and she seethed, “The fuck you doin’ here?”

Seemingly unfazed by her hostility, he shot her a grin. “Checking up on my Troublemaker.” Ignoring her protest of his use of the nickname, he added, “You know there are a lot less dramatic ways of getting my attention, don’t you?”

“Screw you, Logan. I wasn’t trying to get your attention and you know it.”

“You sure about that?”

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.”

Pulling his hand out from behind his back, he opened it up and let something dangle from his fingers. Her breath caught when she realized what he was holding. “Where...Where did you get that?”

“Found it after the accident. Must have flown out while you were trying out your new stunt routine. Needs some work, by the way.”

Biting back the snide remark that she knew would only spur him on further, she asked hotly, “So what?”

“If you really wanted nothing to do with me, why do you still have my necklace?”

“To remind me not to make the same horrible mistake twice.” When Logan’s eyes widened, she knew she’d hit her mark.

His lips pursed briefly before he let out a deep breath and asked, “Seriously, Charlotte. How are you?”

“None of your goddamn business, Logan.”

“Char -- “

“No. You lost the right to ask me that when you drove off and left me behind.” Thirteen months, two weeks and six days ago, to be exact. Not that she’d been counting. “You can get the fuck out of my apartment though.”

“But -- “

“No, Logan. Whatever it is you think you need to say to me? You can shove it. Better yet, choke on it and die. Because as far as I’m concerned? You’re already dead.”

“Please, Char. Please.”

Rolling her eyes at the desperation in his tone, even as it tugged painfully at her heart, she taunted, “Fine. What’s so damned important? How did you end up in the same city as me?”

“I, uh…um…”

Realization dawned and her fury hit a level she’d never experienced before. “Are you fucking kidding me? You came here looking for me, didn’t you?” She waited, refusing to continue until he admitted it. When he finally nodded his head, she seethed, “How fucking dare you? Who the fuck do you think you are? Why now?”

“I…” he trailed off into a sigh as he stared at the plush carpet beneath his feet.

Her fury building with each second he spent not talking, Charlotte waited for several long moments before she hissed, “Spit it out, Logan. You came here, looking for me. You found me. Now fucking talk so I can be done with your sorry, pathetic excuse of a being for good.”

“I heard rumblings about this girl out here. Hadn’t lost a race since she’d shown up on the scene around a year ago.” He finally lifted his gaze back up to meet her own and there was so much pain in his eyes that it almost broke through her anger. “I…it felt like a sign. I knew it had to be you. It was too much of a coincidence – the timing lined up and god knows you have the skills and the brains.”

Charlotte let out a harsh scoff, “It’s not like you didn’t know where I was before that. You knew I was coming out here for college.”

“But you never made it there.”

Shock reverberated through her entire body and she fought to keep her furious expression in place. How does he know that?

As if he was reading her mind, he added, “I only made it about two weeks before I broke down and drove out here. I went straight to the college, to the main office, and asked if there was a way they could help me find you. I told them as much of the truth as I could – that I wanted to surprise you, so I didn’t know which dorm you were in. Somehow, I convinced them to help me but when they looked you up in the system, it said you’d withdrawn before your first class.”

He came for me?

Fighting off the surge of hope threatening to overwhelm her, she mocked, “So what? Am I just supposed to fall at your feet now? You tried once, over a year ago no less, to find me, so that makes everything all better, right?”

“It wasn’t just once.” She raised a skeptical eyebrow so he pressed on, “When I struck out at the school, I tried to figure out where you might have gone. I chased down every single idea I had, no matter how crazy or far-fetched it was. Still, I couldn’t find you. So after about a month and half, I broke down and went to your dad’s.”

Charlotte gasped, “You didn’t.”

“I did. I knew it was a long shot. Stupid as hell, too. But I was desperate and hoping that his law-abiding nature would force him to tell me the truth. And maybe a part of me was hoping that it would be simple and you’d just be there. Of course, you weren’t and your dad told me he had no idea where you were and to go fuck myself. As irritated as I was, I wasn’t surprised that he wouldn’t tell me the truth.”

“He did.”

“What?”

Dropping her gaze to where her hands were folded so tightly in her lap that her fingers had turned white, she whispered, “He did tell you the truth. He had no idea where I was. Still doesn’t.”

“I don’t…”

Shrugging her shoulders, Charlotte told him, “I haven’t talked to him since right after you left. So I guess you were right about one thing. I didn’t need you to be strong.”

She didn’t miss his wince at her words, but he only shook his head before continuing his tale, “When I didn’t get anything out of him, I’d officially run out of leads. From that point on, I tried like hell to push you out of my head and my heart. But I couldn’t. So when I heard all that, I had to come find out for myself whether or not it was really you.”

Charlotte’s eyes had slid closed as Logan admitted that he hadn’t been any more successful at forgetting her than she was at forgetting him. She had to. If she kept looking at that pitiful look on his face while he was saying all the things she’d longed for him to say, she was going to give in. She was going to forgive him and give him back her heart. But she couldn’t. She’d never survive him pulverizing it again.

Forcing more heat into her words than she really felt, she smarted off, “Well, now you know. So if you’d kindly see yourself out, I’d really appreciate it.”

Instead of turning towards her front door, he walked even closer until he was able to kneel so closely beside her that she could feel the heat rolling off his body. “I can’t do that, Troublemaker.”

“Why not?” Lord, she hoped her voice didn’t sound as whiney to him as it did to her own ears. Judging by his smirk, she definitely wasn’t that lucky.

“For one, you still haven’t answered my question.”

It took her a second to remember what his question was. “Fine. I’m fine. Now will you go?”

“Nope. Because I need one more thing from you before I do.”

Desperate to get him out of her space, she instantly told him, “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

“Tell me you don’t still love me.”

She inhaled so sharply that her body screamed in protest. “What?”

She fought to keep her eyes from closing after he raised his right hand so that his fingers could run gently through the hair at the side of her face. She’d been so distracted that she didn’t even realize he had leaned closer until she felt his breath hot against her ear as he murmured, “Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll go. You’ll never hear from me again.”

“I don’t… I don’t…”

“Yes?”

“Dammit, Logan.” She’d swear her face leaned into his touch all on its own. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you torturing me?”

Startled, he pulled away from her and she felt the loss all the way to her toes. His voice was rough as he muttered, “I’m not trying to.”

“But you are. You show up after all this time, when I’m finally starting to put the pieces of my shattered heart back together. You weave this story of how you love me, how you never stopped -- “

“It’s not a story!”

She kept talking as if she hadn’t heard him, “Then you beg me to tell you I don’t love you, as if you already know the answer. Like if I tell you that I do still love you, you’re going to stay. That we’ll suddenly have this happily ever after.”

“What’s so wro -- “

“And then when things get tough again, you’ll bolt. And I’ll be left here, probably broken beyond repair this time. So, no, I won’t play this game with you.”

“Babe. I swear. I learned my lesson. I’m not goin’ anywhere this time.”

“Where have I heard that before?”

Dropping his head, Logan whispered, “I know I promised before. But, I swear, I thought I was doing what was best for you. You had college, your whole life ahead of you. I was a fugitive. I didn’t see how all of that could work together.”

“Because you never even asked me! Not once did you even think to ask if that was still the life I wanted! If you had, you’d have known, I didn’t give a fuck about Langston anymore!”

“But I -- “

“No, Logan. It’s your turn to listen. Being with you did more than just show me how to stand up for myself, how to be strong. I learned who I really was -- am. And I learned what I really want out of life. None of which had anything to do with that stuffy college.”

Looking at her through his lashes, he asked tentatively, “So what do you want?”

“I want to work with cars. I want to race them. Maybe I don’t want to be a part of a criminal enterprise like Kaneko’s crew, but I love the street racing life. So that’s what I’ve spent the last year doing.”

Instead of the look of disapproval or disappointment she expected to see on Logan’s face, all she could find was admiration. “So what did you do about it?”

“I dropped out of Langston, which you apparently already knew. Then I enrolled at the city’s technical college in their automotive mechanic program. In my spare time, I rode around the city streets, learning their characteristics as I honed my skills.”

“Still, it isn’t easy to work your way onto a scene like this.”

“No, it isn’t. But I pestered Paul enough until he fell in love with me and took pity on me.” A small wave of satisfaction washed over her when Logan’s face morphed into a scowl. “After that first race, he, and all the regulars, realized how much skill I had. Finding races got a lot easier after that. Plus, Paul hooked me up with a shop that works with performance cars, so I’m interning there when I’m not in class.”

“Damn, Char” -- his face fell as she flinched involuntarily. “I’m sorry, is it Lottie now?”

“No, it’s fine. I just...I haven’t...I don’t…”

“Hey, I get it. I’m not asking you to just jump right back into where we left off, ya know. I just want another chance.”

“I know, Logan. I…” Charlotte let out a sigh. She wanted, so badly, to give him that. But how could she trust this time would be different? She’d watched him walk away from her two times already. She knew she wouldn’t survive a third. Choosing to be honest, with him and herself, she asked, “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Know? You don’t. But I think me showing up here has to count for something, doesn’t it?”

Brow furrowing, she realized there was still an important piece to this puzzle she was missing, “How are you here, anyway? I know I sure as hell didn’t tell you where I live.”

The left corner of his mouth twitched up, “Paul told me.”

“No, seriously. How’d you find me?”

“Paul.” Reading the confusion on her face, he continued, “He wasn’t happy about it, but he made some comment about you needing to talk to me and you asking for me in the hospital and then wrote your address down for me. Confused the hell outta me, but I wasn’t gonna question it.”

Charlotte made a mental note to call Paul soon, both to rip him a new one and also thank him profusely. Pushing that from her mind, she took a deep breath and, for the first time in over a year, she listened to her heart. Holding her hand out to Logan, she waited until he laced his fingers with hers before whispering, “I can’t.”

Looking stricken, Logan tried to pull his hand out of hers. “Oh...okay…”

“Logan. Look at me.” He hesitated, but when she squeezed his fingers, his eyes finally met hers and she smiled even as her tears started to fall. “I can’t tell you I don’t love you. Because no matter how fucking hard I tried, I couldn’t push you out of my heart.”

A sharp gasp slipped past his lips as he searched her face, as if he couldn’t quite believe what she was telling him. When his fingers tightened around hers even more, her smile grew even bigger. “You mean…?”

“Yeah, baby. I...I’m willing to try this again. But -- “ Logan surged off the floor, wrapping her gently in his arms and for the first time in a long, long time, she felt whole again.

Face buried in her hair, he promised, “Anything, Charlotte. I’ll do anything you want. Anything you need.”

“I just need to take this slow, okay?”

“Done. You set the pace. All the way.”

She couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at the wonder in his voice. “Hey, Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

 Tags:@burnsoslow @anotherbeingsworld

A/N: This was my first ever attempt at writing for Logan. I really hope I did this sweet, amazing boy justice. For the record, I completely understood his reasons for walking away at the end of RoD - even respected him for it - but I also know that it wouldn’t have set well with my girl, which is how this idea came to be. Thank you all so much for reading!!