#I know season 3 is the last one but a fourth season where everything is chaos and the royals get dethroned... I would LIVE for that

[dr-drea]

I'm not saying the question of whether August or Wille will be king has a simple solution but we could abolish the monarchy

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 12: My Heart Is Beating For You Constantly

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twelve of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 9.1K (I got really carried away)

Warnings: I'm going to label this one 18+ just in case. References to sex, Implied Sex, Heavy Making Out (not really explicit, but also not real un-detailed…), Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soft Soldier Boy, Angst, Fluff.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

A/N: The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness, But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

1984

You take a sip of wine, leaning over your coffee table to pull another photo from the Rosewood box perched on the edge. It's your birthday, your 65th birthday to be exact, of course one look in the mirror revealed that you barely looked over 30. To some women that might be a welcome thought, but given your current situation it wasn't.

It marked the fourth year since you told Ben that you were unhappy on Payback and as a supe, told him that you wanted a normal life, and four years after you'd let him talk you into staying. But this was the year. You were going to tell him that you were done, that you were moving on and getting out.

Unfortunately the only person you had to convince about letting go was yourself, because leaving meant giving up Ben. And you weren't sure that was something you could do.  You were having a hard time convincing your heart to let go of him or rather the old version of him, that only made it's appearance when it was the two of you. The memories that tied you to Ben were tight and difficult to unravel. You couldn't imagine your life without him, couldn’t see past this moment in your life.

But that's why you had to go. You knew you were in too deep. Fantasizing about a  relationship with someone who would never love you the same way you loved them, hoping in something that would never happen. And you needed to let him go, whether it be the new version of him or the boy you used to know, you needed to let Ben go.

The Rosewood box was filled with photos, old doodles, memories, and objects from your past. Usually it was stored under your bed, but tonight you had dragged it out into the living room to reminisce on your birthday. It was a tradition you started a few years ago as a way of remembering the past. Sometimes it was a welcome distraction from the way things were now and tonight you were letting it be a last supper of sorts, to indulge in the memories Ben and you had shared over the years before you told him that you were leaving.

You had no idea where you were going, but the thought excited you a little bit. Finally striking out on your own for the first time, doing something for yourself for once, it felt right.

Leaving Ben was the only thing that felt wrong. You wanted him to come with you, for him to choose you the way that you chose him that night, but you knew he wouldn't. He liked this life too much to let it go, he thrived in the spotlight, embraced everything about being a supe that you hated, and so you would let him go.

You look down at the strip of paper in your hand. It was a collection of photos from a photo booth, yellowed with age, but lined up one by one from the first baseball game Ben ever took you to, one of your favorite memories from your childhood. You were wearing the ridiculous pinstriped hat and Ben looked as handsome as he always did, smiling wide with his dark hair hanging in his face. It was hard to look at it now, hard to look at Ben and you when you were so young, and you didn't know where your lives were going to go.

Your eyes drift to the velvet case pressed into the corner of the wooden box. You had kept the ring that Howard got you, well, technically you had tried to give it back but he refused, begging you to reconsider.

Sometimes you thought about throwing it away. It was ugly, but it was a reminder. Not a reminder of Howard, you could barely remember what he looked like, but it was a reminder of the night Ben asked you to come with him. You could remember the earnest look in his eyes, how he cupped your face, and the promise he made to you. The future he promised had been filled with so much possibility, but you weren’t sure anymore. You think about the years you'd spent together and how leaving felt like the end of an era.

But it was necessary, breaking away from all of this would be good. Yes you would miss Ben, but you needed to move on. You knew that deep down. Because you wanted something more than all of this, and the night Ben asked you to come with him you thought he could give it to you, but after all these years you understood that he couldn’t and that he didn’t want to.

Someone knocks loudly on your door.

“One second.” You take the last sip of wine before standing and crossing the room to open the door. “Hey what are you doing here?”

Ben is standing in the hallway outside your apartment, looking handsome as always. He's wearing a tailored dark suit with a black tie, his hair is combed back from his face, dark stubble graces his rugged jaw and a wide smile pulls up at the ends of his lips that makes it very hard to focus on anything else. “Happy Birthday Sweetheart.” 

“I’ve had too many birthdays.” You laugh and wave a hand to brush it off. “What are you doing here, I thought you had an interview about the premiere tomorrow?”

Tomorrow night was the premiere of the third and final installment of Anti-Communist films that Ben was currently staring in. The first two had been utterly ridiculous and you knew that the one tomorrow would be just as pointless. Which you knew for a fact, because one day Ben asked you to meet him on set and you saw a scene he was filming, not to mention one time he tried to get you to run lines with him and you told him you'd rather drop dead than read Countess' lines, who took the co-star role when you refused. Ben’s offer of the co-starring role to you had been his way of appeasing you after you told him you were unhappy. When you refused, Countess had been more than willing to slide into it.  Who was still trying her upmost to get into Ben's pants, but he still completely ignored her, which gave you an unmeasurable amount of joy.

“I told them that I couldn’t miss my girl's birthday.” Ben smiles wider. “Plus I’d much rather spend tonight with you than those fucking vultures and I’ve never missed your birthday.”

Instead of the words "my girl" filling you with happiness as they had the first night Ben said it in the dancehall, they only make you frustrated. He had called you that several times over the years you'd been friends and each time it made you more and more angry. You were tired of it. Tired of Ben acting like Ben only when it was the two of you. Tired of Ben acting like he cared and like he wanted to be more than friends only to crush you the next day. Tired that he called you “my girl” and then did nothing that meant more than friends.  You loved him more than you’d loved anyone ever, took care of him, did everything you could for him, and each time when he didn’t acknowledge it, you felt like you weren’t enough. It made you feel like a kid again when you tried your upmost to please your mother only to have her be disappointed in you each time.

“That’s sweet.” Anger and frustration burns in the back of your throat, but you push it down with a tight lipped smile.

“And I got us reservations, so go get dressed.”

"What?"

"I got reservations. Come on." Ben makes a gesture with his hand.

“Oh I’m okay, I was just going to-“ You motion back at the bottle of wine, the couch, and the box of photos.

“No. I’m not going to let you sit here on your birthday. Come on. Let’s go.” Ben takes your arm and turns you around gently pushing you towards the small hallway that leads back to your bedroom with his hand on the small of your back.

You brace yourself for the warmth that follows with the brush of his fingers against you, but each time you're unprepared for how it makes you feel when he touches you.

“But I don’t have anything to wear! And if you do have a reservation, how much time do I have?” You argue, trying to come up with an excuse to avoid dinner.

As much as you wanted to go, you didn't want to sit there and pretend to be happy. You were tired of doing that, but then you raise your head to look Ben in the eye.

He's smiling down at you the same way he always has, looking like the boy who climbed in your window after flunking out of boarding school to bring you paint and your resolve wavers. You hated saying no to him.

Damn it.

“By the time you stop making excuses it will be time to go. And as sexy as those pajamas are, you can’t wear them to a restaurant.” Ben teases, tugging on the bottom oversized paint-splattered shirt you were wearing

“Fine.” You grumble, cheeks flushing bright red as you snatch the shirt from his hand. “Give me ten minutes.”

"Shut up." Ben laughs from across the table at you. "Your mother loved me!"

His laughter is contagious, making your own release from your lips and ease the tension you are holding in your chest.

The Italian restaurant is small and filled with the soft lit of music from the band in the corner, the rich aromatic smell of food, and has the calming atmosphere of a intimate bar. When Ben parked out front, you were surprised. He usually liked the restaurants on page 6 where other heroes would be found eating and places where he could be photographed for the news, but this place was different, it was almost, special. And the way Ben was acting was unusual.

He'd walked around the car after he parked and took your hand in his, to lead you down the steps to the front door where a hostess had asked for his name. Ben had used his real name rather than Soldier Boy for a reservation and when you walked out of your bedroom wearing the dress you found at the back of your closet that you had for emergencies, you swore you saw his eyes darken as they trailed across your body making your breath catch in your chest. It was odd. Ben had taken you out for your birthday before, but tonight seemed to be filled with a palpable tension and electricity that you couldn’t place.

Then again, you were probably imagining it like always.

The restaurant was perfect, it made you forget about being a supe and the glamorous lifestyle that Ben indulged in and allowed you to pretend that you were normal. However, while you sat there together, you tried not to think about what you were going to have to tell him eventually, that you were leaving. He would ask for an answer why and you’d try to tell him the same thing you told him four years ago while avoiding screaming “because I love you, you fucking idiot” at the top of your lungs. 

But it was difficult to find a way to tell him, not when he had a soft smile on his face and every few minutes Ben would find some reason to touch you. So you allowed yourself to indulge in this, to have this last wonderful memory together before you have to tell him. And in doing so, you let yourself forget being a supe, forget everything else but Ben and you in this moment.

"Oh sure, you were her favorite." You snort into your wineglass. "She put a crucifix up over my window to keep you out. Every time you went to a new boarding school, she prayed in the living room with a rosary to God begging him to keep you far from me and she cried whenever you came back. Not to mention when you got me thrown out of boarding school she forbade me from seeing you-"

"But you couldn’t stay away." Ben sing-songs with a grin before taking a sip from his glass. "And your roommate was a fucking snitch."

"She was." You smile down at the table. "I also think she was a little jealous." You lean back in your chair, holding the wineglass in your right hand.

"Oh and why is that?" Ben's smirk widens.

"Don't make me say it-" Your eyes roll.

"Oh I want to hear you admit it." He leans towards you across the table, eyes shining with a mischievous glint that makes it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Not going to happen.”  You look around the room to distract yourself with the other couples.

All the tables around you were full of people sharing stories, holding hands, brushing feet under the table and for the first time you weren't jealous of their love. The couple next to you was practically breathing the same air, leaning towards each other with sappy looks in their eyes. You were happy for them, allowed yourself to be filled with compassion at their happiness. You remember what you said to Ben four years ago, about wanting to have someone to come home to, someone who loved you and then remember the night at the dancehall watching the elderly couple dance under the twinkling lights holding each other close and gazing deeply into one another's eyes.

You wanted someone to look at you like that, wanted someone to share you life with. You wanted that so badly, that in this moment you knew that you were making the right decision leaving because you would be closer to getting it, because the man across the table from you might be your best friend and have your heart, but he didn’t want to be more. And as much as it hurt to leave the only man you’d ever loved,  you knew it was the right thing.

Ben taps his index finger on your left hand where it rests on the table between you, drawing your eyes back to his. "Did I lose you Doll?"

"Hmm? No sorry. I was-" You smile at him. "Distracted. What were you asking?"

Ben's gaze shifts to the couple sitting to your right, the one you were watching a second ago, who are holding hands on top of the table. The man says something that makes his date laugh and lean towards him to grasp his other hand. The way he smiles at his date makes you smile. Ben's eyes slide back to yours and an odd look flashes through them that you can't identify.

"You know what I was asking." His index finger begins to brush over your knuckles in a smooth circular motion. Warmth trails with his touch, sending goosebumps dancing up your left arm.

Shock buzzes at the back of your mind, you didn't understand why he was doing that, Ben had barely had anything to drink tonight, in fact that was his first and only Whiskey. Not to mention when he showed up at your door he seemed more sober than usual. He didn't smell like reefer. So for him to touch you this much was unusual, especially when he wasn't drunk or high.

“Come on Sweetheart.” He smiles at you in a way that makes your heart ache.

"Fine. Pearl thought you were devilishly handsome and was upset that I danced with you when I had Howard-"

"Don't mention that pussy." Ben’s smirk drops into a frown and he stops moving his finger against the back of your hand.

"I don't understand why you were so jealous of him." You try not to think about how much you wish he would start moving his finger again.

"I was not jealous of that idiot." Ben rolls his eyes.

"Uh-huh. After all these years, you still can't admit it." You tease him taking another sip of wine. It was giving you a pleasant buzz that made you feel just a little bit warm and bold enough to make you brush your thumb against his where his hand sits only a few millimeters from yours.

If he was touching you, you thought that maybe it would be okay for you to touch him, maybe it was okay to pretend that he wanted to hold your hand as much as you wanted to hold his, like the couple next to you were.

"I will if you admit you were jealous of Missy Callahan." Ben's eyes trail down to your thumb before looking back up at you, waiting for your answer.

"I was not-"

Ben raises an eyebrow. “I can hear your heartbeat Doll.”

“Just as I can hear yours Darling.” You smile back at him.

“Y/n.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his ridiculous smile. "Fine, I will admit that was a little jealous of her, but she was awful.  She was dumb as a rock and she was the most terrible gossip-"

"I knew it." Ben smirks.

You sit there in silence for a minute gazing at Ben, your eyebrow raised. "I'm waiting."

"Oh I'm not going to admit that I was jealous of Howard. I just wanted to hear you say the thing about Missy." Ben laughs, beginning to run his index finger against the back of your hand again. His eyes on yours, as if he's gauging your reaction.

"Bastard." You roll your eyes at him. "Did I tell you that I saw Howard?"

"What?" Ben looks surprised.

"Yeah, when I went to my brother's-" You clear your throat remembering when you saw Howard four years ago. You don’t know why he went to your brother’s funeral, but he was there, gray hair slicked back staring at you open mouthed. The last time you'd seen him was the day after he proposed, when you tried to give him back the ring and he refused, stating that he wanted you to keep it, to think about it. He never got over the break up, never dating anyone else, never married. It had been an awkward reunion, especially since he kept trying to corner you, but you evaded him expertly through the crowd. You weren't interested in making awkward small-talk about the past forty years.

Ben's hand finally slips into yours, intwining your fingers together because he understands what you’re about to say. "I'm sorry I didn't go with you, I should have."

It was weird that Ben wasn’t with you, but it was also weird because you tried to comfort your sister in law and her son and his family, but it felt forced. Ben was the only person who understood what it was like for everyone to age around you while you stayed the same. Standing there to celebrate the life of your brother while you, yourself couldn't die completely or even age felt awkward. You found yourself longing for Ben when you were away, wishing that he was there to hold your hand or try to deflect some of the awkward conversations, none of which were focused on your brother and were all about you being a supe. You hated how much you depended on him.

After the funeral you had stayed in Philadelphia an extra week to help your family and when Ben called to see how you were you broke down on the phone. Ben had showed up within the next hour at your hotel and sat with you while you cried. It was one of your favorite memories, because Ben held you gently against him, whispering "It's okay Sweetheart, I've got you" while you pressed your face into his shirt, letting the smell of whiskey and his cologne soak into your skin. It was so unlike him and it made you believe that Ben wanted more, but then he never acknowledged it, like always.

"Ben it's okay, you were there when it mattered. And you went to both of my parent's funerals. Surprising because my mother would have hated that you were there. Always said you were going to ruin my life." You meant for it to be a joke, but the look in Ben's eyes shifts to something more vulnerable for a millisecond before it hardens again.

"Did I?" He asks quietly. Ben looks down at where he was holding your hand, his thumb beginning to move over the smooth skin on the back.

The question catches you off guard. It was the very question that you had been considering the past few days before you finally decided to leave all of this and your best friend. But the truth was you didn't believe that Ben ruined your life, you blamed yourself, blamed yourself for loving your best friend, blamed yourself for loving someone who didn’t love you the same way.

And it wasn’t that you hated your life, it was different than what you would have planned for yourself, but you liked parts of it. Not to mention you would have hated it more if you had said no to Ben and married Howard. If anything, Ben had saved you and you were thankful for that.

Of course the way he's looking at you and holding your hand is making it difficult for you to consider leaving. It seemed like every time you tried, Ben would do something like this- take you out to dinner or act like he wanted you and only you, and then you would reconsider. Four years ago it had been him holding you after your brother’s funeral and now it was this.

"Ben." You sigh, squeezing his hand and putting as much love into your gaze as you can. "No. You didn't. If anything you freed me. I didn't want to be with Howard and I was too afraid to say it until you asked me to come with you.”

“He could have given you a life though. You said that’s what you wanted.” For a second you think you see Ben’s eyes flick to the couple on your right with his words.

Your mind stutters to a halt in surprise. He remembered what we talked about four years ago? After he almost killed Noir?

“Um-" You clear your throat to recover. "And if you remember that conversation, you should also remember I said I didn’t want that life with Howard.”

“Yes, but you said you wanted to marry someone.” The ends of his lip twitches, but he doesn’t smile. “Still waiting on that wedding invite.” His thumb is stroking long smooth patterns on the back of your hand, making your throat tight and making it impossible to think.

“I’m sure you’ll get it any day now. Legend is happy that I finally said yes.”

“I should have known. Y’all looked pretty cozy at that party two weeks ago.” Ben laughs. “So if you’re engaged to him, does that mean you don’t want your birthday present?”

“I’ve said it once and I’ve said it again, I’m too old for birthdays.”

“Then why did you come out with me?”

“Oh I’m just going to write this off as old friends having dinner. That or a kidnapping. You practically dragged me to the car.”

“Be thankful I let you change.” Ben replies.

“I don’t know, I think I would have really made a statement with my paint splattered shirt and sweatpants."

You’d chosen the dress you were wearing at random. It was a dark green, the same color as Ben’s supe suit, off your right shoulder cinched around your waist and fell elegantly to your ankles. It was one of your favorites, something you believed accentuated your body effortlessly.

"They were something. Though I think that you-" Ben pauses, dropping his eyes to where he's still holding your hand, before looking back up at you. "Um-"

"What?" You smile.

He clears his throat, a soft smile on his face. "I think you look beautiful now too."

Your next words dry up in your mouth, there's not a shred of joking or teasing in Ben's eyes. Ben had said it before, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes, but now there is only sincerity. And it makes your heart jolt out of rhythm.

He said too. That means that he thought I looked beautiful before when I was-

"Thank you." You flush red and squeeze his hand. "I don't think you look too bad yourself, you know, for a old man." You add that last part because you don’t know what to say when he's looking at you like that.

Ben's smile slips into a frown. "You should be nicer to me, I got you a birthday present."

“See, you keep saying that, but I haven’t seen it.”

“I thought you didn’t want it.” The mischievous glint is back in his eye.

“I could be persuaded.” You smirk.

Ben releases your hand and reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a long navy blue velvet box wrapped in a thick silver bow before sliding it across the white tablecloth.

“You get me another paintbrush?” You smirk running a fingertip over the velvet top to examine it while acutely missing the feeling of his hand grasped in yours.

“Something like that.”

“Did you steal it?” You pick up the box and wave it for emphasis, remembering all the times Ben stole little things from the stores that lined Downtown Philadelphia and the box he had hidden under his bed filled with random trinkets.

You never understood why he did that. Ben's family was almost as wealthy as yours and although his father didn't approve of anything Ben was doing, he never cut him off.

“Maybe.” He shrugs and leans on the table towards you, his eyes filled with excitement.

“With how much money they pay you for those ridiculous films you shouldn’t be stealing anything.”

“I’m sure if you sold your artwork instead of shoving it in the closet you’d be just as wealthy as me.”

“Yes, but my grand plan is to have you pay for everything so I can continue to use you and I can’t do that if I’m rich."

“You can use me anytime sweetheart.” Ben winks.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, but can't stop the blush that stains your cheeks at his insinuation.

Everything about tonight felt just like old times, the way he joked with you and the way you couldn't stop smiling, but at the same time, something else nagged at the back of your mind. The handholding was new, as were the compliments and deeper conversation, especially because Ben wasn't drunk or high, and yet he was being gentler than usual, almost soft. And that was something Ben never was, at least not in public.

You tried not to be frustrated with the turn of events and just enjoy the moment, but deep down you wanted to know.

Was Ben doing this because he cared? Or was he doing this because he sensed I was unhappy and that I was leaving and he thought this was the only way to keep me around?

“Come on, open it.”

“Fine.” You smile down at the box and slowly slide off the bow. “Please tell me you have photos of you trying to tie this bow. Preferably while you were wearing your supe suit.”

“I already destroyed the evidence.”

 “Figures.” You sigh. “Would have been a nice birthday present.”

“I think this is better, but given the pace you’re going at I’ll still be sitting here waiting for you to open it at your next birthday.” Ben takes a drink from his glass.

“Which I won’t be celebrating.”

"Oh you're going to. I’ll make sure.” 

You roll your eyes at him, before finally opening the velvet box and your next joke is forgotten as you struggle to catch your breath. You were expecting something art related. Ben always got you brushes, paints, colored pencils, and any other art supply-like gift, because he knew that you liked those things but not tonight. Because for your 65th birthday Ben decided to get you something that took your breath away.

Nestled in black velvet is a pearl necklace, elegant, beautiful, catching in the fluttering warm light of the restaurant as the band in the corner continues to play a jazzy tune that makes you remember the records your father would listen to while he smoked before bedtime.

“Ben-“ You begin to say, but you can’t finish your sentence, you're too surprised to say anything else.

Not once in all the years you’d been friends had Ben bought you jewelry. Shopping for his birthday was harder, his last one you had gotten him a pair of silver cufflinks that he was currently wearing, but each time you bought him something like that it didn't feel like you were revealing too much about how you felt and it never felt like a gift you would give someone who was more than your friend. But now, staring down at the necklace that Ben bought you feels, intimate almost romantic.

“I remembered how upset you were when you lost the one your dad got you.” Ben says slowly, his eyes on you. “I know it’s not the same one, but the lady in the store said it was the most like the ones they made when we were younger and I thought-“ He rubs the back of his neck. “Um- I thought you’d like it.”

You smile, still unable to speak, fighting the happy tears that build behind your eyes. You had lost the necklace your father got you a few months ago and you tore your entire apartment apart to find it. Ben had walked right into the middle of the chaos and found you a sobbing mess.

Your father had bought it for you on your 23rd birthday. It was your first birthday as a supe and your first one away from home. Your father had it delivered to you with a vase of fresh cut lavender, because you couldn’t go home and he couldn’t get away.  It was one of the last things you had from him, besides the antique watch perched on your wrist.

“I can’t believe you remembered that.” You swallow the ball of emotion lodged in your throat.

“I do listen to you.”

You look up and raise an eyebrow.

“Sometimes.” His soft smile makes you feel light headed and makes you wish all over again that you had the courage to tell Ben the three little words that you'd always wanted to.

“I don’t know what to say-“

“Too much? Because I can take it back and buy you a paintbrush-“ Ben starts to reach for the box, but you catch his hand against the table tangling your fingertips together.

“No. It's perfect. Thank you Ben.”

He looks relieved by your answer. “You’re welcome.”

The soft sounds of conversation swell around you mixing with the tinkling of utensils against plates and the music that pours from the band in the corner where a singer dressed in a long red sequined gown sings a familiar song. But you can't stop admiring the necklace nestled in the fabric, your hand still clasped in Ben's on top of the table.

Ben finally breaks the silence. “Do you want me to help you put it on?”

You blink for a minute to comprehend what he was asking, raising your eyes to his genuine smile. "Please.”

Ben stands from his chair and comes around behind you as you gently twist your hair out of the way, so he has access to your neck. His rough fingertips brush against the smooth skin of your neck sending a shiver down your spine that you hope Ben misses because how would you explain that? When he secures it at the back of your neck you look down at the pearls, holding them between your thumb and forefinger.

"They're beautiful." You whisper, before looking back up at him.

"Yes, beautiful." He responds, but Ben isn't looking at your necklace, his eyes are locked on your face.

What is going on?

"Ben-" You begin to say, attempting for the first time to ask him why he does this, acts different around you, gives you hope and then takes it all away, but he interrupts you.

"Come on." His hand falls on yours and he pulls you up out of your chair, weaving through the other tables to stand in front of the band in the corner. His right hand finds the small of your back, while his left gently holds your right in the air.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"Isn't it obvious?" Ben smiles. "We're dancing."

"No one else is dancing." You look around the room at the couples sitting quietly together enjoying their meals, who have begun to watch Ben and you sway to the music.

He leans forward to whisper into the curve of your ear. "Then let's show them how it's done Sweetheart."

You can't help but laugh at him, enjoying the way that he feels pressed against you, how it makes you feel alive in the best way, how you feel safe in his arms. Being here, swaying to the last few notes of the song with him made you reconsider leaving again. Ben was the only person who knew you completely, inside and out, the only person who seemed to understand you. Choosing to leave him would be like choosing to leave home, because after everything you'd been through, Ben was home.

As soon as the song ends, the one that follows is familiar, a tune that sparks a memory at the back of your mind. You raise your eyes to Ben's. His are crinkled with his smile, a mischievous glint behind them.

"Ben, did you tell them to play-"

"Yeah. I told them to play our song." He whispers, holding you tighter against him.

The memory of the night you first danced warms against your skin. You remembered it well. It was the night that you almost told him you loved him, the same thing you were considering right now. You couldn't believe that he remembered the song you danced to. You smile at the memory of that night, when Ben punched Howard in the face and it gave you a sickening amount of joy.

“What are you smiling at?” Ben asks you.

“I still can’t believe you hit him.” You shake your head with a laugh.

"He hurt you. And I didn't like that he made me stop dancing with my girl."

You sigh before you can stop yourself the phrase immediately making the laughter dissipate and making the warm feeling at his touch fade. Tonight Ben was again making you think that he wanted to be more, and worst of all it was making it harder to leave. Because what if this was him trying to tell you the only way he knew how? What if this was him finally admitting that he loved you and you just left?

"What?” He frowns down at you.

“I don’t know why you keep calling me that.”

"What?"

"Your 'girl'." You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the frustration from making you say more.

 “You don't think you are?"

“What do you think it means? To me it means being in a relationship with someone. We have been friends for over fifty years and you have never once said that you wanted to be more-"

"I did try to propose.” Ben jokes, not understanding that you’re upset.

"Really? That was your proposal?" You scoff rolling your eyes. "A joke while you were sitting on my shitty couch drunk off your ass while trying to apologize for almost killing Noir and telling me that you hate when I get in your way?  Forgive me for imagining some big gesture and for not swooning."

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Oh please-“

“I’m fucking serious.” He shrugs.

“What?” You look him in the eye to look for the teasing glint, but it's not there, Ben looks serious.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not.” Ben’s eyes lock with yours. “I also didn’t apologize for almost killing him. And I do hate when you get in my way." 

"Yes, I figured that given how angry you looked." You roll your eyes, glancing to look at the couples around you again, but this time the happiness you felt for them is gone. The jealousy is back coupled with the frustration of Ben acting like Ben and then pulling a complete 180 the next day and making you question everything. Because you wanted to exist in the moments that he was still Ben and you didn’t want to leave him, but you did want to leave Soldier Boy. The problem was right now all you saw was Ben and you hated that you couldn’t enjoy it because you knew it would end. Someone would piss him off or he’d get drunk or high or go down the rabbit hole with some other woman and Ben would be gone.

You didn’t understand how he could go from hot to cold so quickly.

“But I didn’t lie when I said I’d never hurt you.” Ben's voice rumbles up through where his chest is pressed against yours.

You want to say that you believe him, but after the past forty years you weren’t sure anymore. And that thought hurt more than anything else. You didn’t know your best friend anymore, and it scared you.

Your eyes are leveled on Ben’s chest, by now he’s stopped swaying you to the music. You know what will happen when you look up into his eyes, he'll make a joke or say something like the last forty years never happened and you'll crumble like always. You can feel his breath against your face, the warmth of his body transferring through his chest and soaking into yours.

“Y/n, please look at me.” He releases your hand and cups your cheek to tilt you head upwards to him. The one still planted on your back slides down to your waist, tightening around you as you lock eyes with him. “You know that I’d never hurt you. Right?”

Ben's eyes lock on yours, the love and care reflected in the irises makes your body burn. He's never looked at you like that, looked at you like you were the only woman in the world and deep down it makes you want to pull him close and whisper the three little words you've wanted to say for fifty seven years.

You focus on Ben's words to shake it off, it was the same thing he’d said four years ago, but this time the air between you is charged with electricity.

And you can’t take it anymore.

“Why?” You whisper.

It catches him off guard. “What?”

“Why are you different with me? When the cameras stop rolling, when the team goes home, when it’s just the two of us, you’re different." You stop to catch your breath.  "Ben, I’ve known you for fifty seven years. And in the last forty you’ve changed. But not around me, not when it’s just the two of us. You show up at my apartment in the middle of the night, we talk, we laugh about the past, you sleep in my bed, you call me 'your girl'-”

“You’ve known me longer than anyone else-” His hand is still cupping your cheek now, thumb gently brushing against the smooth skin making your throat tight.

“But even before all this, when we were still in Philadelphia. You were always around me, showing up, taking me out to do things in the city. Ben, we both know how you are. I watched you chase after whatever caught your eye and even now-“ You shake your head frustrated. “But you never act that way with me.”

Ben is quiet for a minute, his eyes searching yours, soft green in the fluttering lights above your heads. “Because you’re different y/n. You’ve always been different.”

“But that doesn’t tell me why Ben. We’ve been doing this for so long and I want-“ You sigh frustrated with yourself because you can’t say it, can’t say that you want him. “I mean I’m not sure if I can-“ You were going to say that you weren’t sure you could do this anymore, that you wished he would let you go, wished that you could walk away, and wished that he would stop giving you hope that the two of you could be something more because you couldn’t do it.

But the words are stopped when his lips meet yours.

You inhale sharply in surprise, before your entire body melts against his, deepening the kiss as you drag your hands up into his dark hair, while your mind goes blissfully blank. Ben’s mouth is firm but tender against yours, moving in a slow dance that makes warm tingles trail down your spine. The hand that was on your cheek, joins the other on your waist. His hand tightens on your hip as your song continues to play while the other presses against the small of your back to secure you against him. The solidness of his chest is familiar, molding against your curves in the best way as if he was made for you and you were made for him. You feel his thumb begin to circle slowly against the fabric on your hipbone and suddenly you remember the night he helped you loosen your corset and all you wanted was him. You never thought it would feel like this.

When you finally pull away for air, Ben doesn’t let you go far, he leans his forehead against yours, the look in his eyes is surprisingly vulnerable, as if he thinks you’re going to push him away.

“I-“ He begins, his green eyes are wide almost afraid.

Why?

You raise your hands to gently cup his strong jaw, searching his eyes with a smile to confirm you aren't going anywhere, before pulling him back to you for another kiss that makes your toes curl in the tight shoes you forced them into an hour ago. Ben sighs into your mouth, a soft sound that surprises you. You had seen him kiss other people before. Ben was anything but gentle, but now you believed that he reserved that gentleness just for you and it made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle.

When you pull back again, Ben’s forehead is still against yours, his eyes bright and unmoving from your face. For a moment neither of you speaks, too afraid to break the silence.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours Sweetheart?” Ben asks, the deep rumble of his voice working up through where your chest is pressed against his. His expression is gentle, and he brings up one of the hands that was on your waist to trace the pillow of your lips with his thumb.

And before you lose your nerve your smile curves into a smirk.  “Took you long enough Benjamin.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Make me.” You mutter against his thumb.

And then he’s kissing you again, moving his lips in tandem with yours while your heart flutters and dances. And you never want it to end, because he's kissing you like he never wants to let you go and you're kissing him like you don't want him to.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Ben mutters against your lips with a smile, his deep eyes catching yours. "Don't be jealous of Missy Callahan. She's nothing compared to you, never has been, never will be."

Your heart warms, cheeks blushing with his words, because even after all these years, Ben still knew exactly what to say. You hold his face reverently, admiring the familiar dips and curves, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben."  You whisper back before you kiss him and allow yourself to fall again, hoping that this time he’ll catch you.

“Did you want something to drink?” You ask Ben, gesturing with your free hand towards the kitchen.

Standing in your apartment feels different post kiss. It feels like this all represents something bigger now. The apartment, him coming upstairs even though he has spent most of the nights here since you bought it and of course the way he’s looking at you, how he’s been unable to stop looking at you since he kissed you.

“Are you going to get it for me?” Ben is still holding your hand, had held it the entire car ride, only releasing it when he got out to open the door for you and then took it again as you walked up to your apartment. His thumb is moving across the back in a soothing motion that makes you want to curl up in the warmth that trails behind like a cat in the sun.

“I’m sure you remember where it is”

“Mhmm.” Ben is eyeing you again, the green in his eyes darkening in a way that makes your throat tight.

You’re not sure who moves first, all you know is that someone closes the distance between you, and you lose yourself in him. Your curves melt against the hard muscles of Ben’s chest and arms as he pulls you into him, his hands  gripping your waist so tight that you know there might be bruises but you don’t care.

Your hands trail up his muscular chest to tangle in his hair, pulling at the darkened strands and forcing his mouth harder against yours.

He tastes like whiskey and smoke, night and day, and all those bittersweet moments you’ve shared over the years you’ve known him. There is no semblance of Soldier Boy left behind, it’s just Ben and you and it's everything you wanted for so long. The kiss is charged with so much emotion and tension you feel something inside you snap and warmth floods your body in its wake. Ben moans into your mouth, his hands coming down to sweep low over your curves and ignites a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt before.

There had been others try to do exactly this. Other heroes you politely declined because you didn’t feel anything for them. You remember the kisses with Howard, passionless, boring, but being here with Ben was like nothing you’d ever imagined. The subtle scratch of his scruff against your cheeks makes you lose all feeling in your legs, his strong embrace makes goosebumps burn against your skin, and the sounds he’s making against your lips makes your heart seize in your chest.

He backs you up and you both fall on the couch in a tangle of limbs, his body caging you beneath him while his fingertips boldly trail against your body, finding places that make you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his smirk against your lips and you’ve never felt more sexy in your life. Ben’s moans against every piece of skin he can get his lips against make you blush crimson and echo his cries with soft sounds that make him grip you tighter. His hands are everywhere, coaxing along your curves, discovering places that you didn’t know could be sensitive and that make you gasp and arch against him as he continues to kiss you.

Everything about this feels right, feels perfect, as if you were both made for this exact moment. The subtle drag of his hands against you, the firm assertive way he holds you beneath him, how your body responds to his touch, and the way your heart continues to swell in your chest, frantically beating as if it wishes to break free. You forget about all the other women he's ever been with, all the others he's probably held close, nothing else exists at this moment, nothing else exists except him and you here on this couch. His lips ghost to your neck as he sucks a mark into the column of your throat and you realize he's saying your name over and over the way that no one ever has.

There’s a loud ripping noise and you understand that Ben ripped off the bottom half of your dress, the tattered remains just barely brushing against your thighs. But you can’t be angry with him for that, not when everything he’s doing feels perfect.

Ben’s hands slowly begin to push up the bottom of your now ruined dress and you come back down from your high, feeling the gentle press of his fingers against your thigh as they begin to move upwards.

“Ben-" You breathe.

You hate how breathy your voice sounds, but the new sensations running through your body are almost too overwhelming for you to gain control of. If you weren't both as indestructible as you were you would be afraid of the possibility of killing Ben.

He moans into your neck, working his hand up further to a place that makes your grip his shoulders tight and you leave bruises of your own, because you’re the only person strong enough to bruise him, to leave marks against his almost invulnerable skin. And it makes a shudder go down his spine.

"Ben wait-"

He stops, looking down at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated in a way that almost sends you back into a frenzy with him. "What's wrong?" He is also out of breath, chest rising and falling fast. You can hear his heart beat thundering in his chest, beating in tandem with yours.

“Before we do this I just want to tell you that I’ve never-" You bite your lip nervously. "I've never done this before.”

“This?” He looks confused, withdrawing his hand from under your ruined dress.

“Well- you know." You gesture between the two of you. "This.”

"You've never had sex with anyone before?"

"No." You flush bright red wondering if that's a deal breaker for him. If he wanted someone more experienced. "I’m sorry."

He sits there for a minute, staring down at you. "Why are you apologizing?” Ben’s hand brushes your hair away from your face in a gentle gesture, so different than the heavy caresses of his hands against your curves he did earlier.

“I don’t know.” You whisper embarrassed. “I just- everyone else has and I’m pretty sure you have with millions of people.”

“Well not millions.”

“But still.” You suddenly think that this was a giant mistake, that you should just go to your room in shame. You drop your eyes to his chest embarrassed.

His hands are stroking along your waist, toying with the frayed edges of your dress. “Y/n.” He whispers.

“What?” You mumble.

Ben raises his hand to cup your cheek, turning your gaze back on him. The way he’s looking at you causes a hot jolt of energy to race down your spine and makes you wish that you were more confident or knew what you were doing.

 He’d been with hundreds of women all kinds of women and what had I been doing all these years? Nothing and no one. I’m not really sure if I understood the mechanics OF sex- but oh how I wished. My head was just getting in the way of everything else as usual.

“I will admit that I have slept with a lot of women.” Ben sighs. “But it’s okay. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-“

“I want to.”

 “Are you sure? I don’t know if I’m the best person for this-“ And for a moment you think he looks almost worried.

Why would he think that?

“I’m sure. I want it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you.” You breathe, running your hands through his hair, your cheeks flushing bright red with your confession, afraid that you’re saying too much, giving too much away as to how much he means to you.

“Really?” Ben smiles in a way that makes your breath catch.

You nod.

“I can’t promise it won’t hurt.” The darkness in his eyes shifts to something else and for a moment it’s difficult for you to form a sentence. He leans his forehead against yours, searching your eyes.  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Ben whispers it like a secret.

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you Ben.” You whisper, knotting you hands in his hair.

“You do?”

You nod your head. “And I’m pretty sure that I’m just as capable of hurting you-“

“Maybe.” The look in his eyes is back, blazing through his green irises in a way that makes your throat swell closed. He bends over to whisper against the curve of your ear. “Then again, I kinda like that Sweetheart.” His lips brush just behind your right ear, making a shiver go down your spine. Ben smiles at your reaction before he dips down to kiss you, but it’s different, the kiss is soft, trusting, and not the previous manic haze of desire it was previously. “ I know you think it’s a big deal, but I like that I’m your first. Because it means that no other man has touched you, made you feel any of the things that I’m going to do to you, and that I’ll never have to share you with anyone else.” His grip on your waist tightens possessively. “That you’ll be completely and utterly mine and no one else can do a damn thing.”

You inhale and try not to faint from the darkened look in his eyes. “Well when you put it that way-“

“Come on.” Ben stands from the couch.

Before you can get up to follow he picks you up like you weigh nothing causing you to automatically wrap your thighs around his waist as he kisses you feverishly again, wiping your mind of anything and everything but him.

“What are you doing?” You breathe, entangling your hands at the nape of his neck to secure yourself.

“I’m not going to let your first time be on some shitty couch.” He mutters against your lips while adjusting his grip under your legs

And with that he takes you down the hall and kicks your bedroom door closed behind you.

A/N: Well it finally happened. Unfortunately this is also when all hell breaks loose…

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts

@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan

[ciaomarie]

Waiting on my AO3 invite. Here's a one shot Sydcarmy story. Canon compliant. Post season 2. Please excuse the grammar/spelling mistakes. I need season 3 to get here quickly!

Title: Won't You Be My Neighbor

It was her break and for the 89th time in the last three days Sydney reassessed the apartments within 15 minutes walking distance from The Bear. As CDC she no longer wanted to depend on the train should there be some kind of accident, strike, or weather event. There were three that she could afford on her own and many more options if she were willing to become a roommate. She wasn't. If inspiration for a recipe struck her at 2am she wanted to get up and cook if she wanted. She loved the freedom of walking around naked after a shower, picking out her clothes or getting a snack. Most of all she missed turning up her music and dancing like an inflatable tube man in private.

She had sent a message to each leasing office to schedule an appointment next Monday and two of the three had confirmed a 10a and 11a showing. It had been more than 48 hours since she messaged the third so she called. The leasing agent informed her that the specific unit she wanted was no longer available, but they had a gorgeous 2 bedroom for $3800 a month if she was interested. "Okay, now that's just two options" Sydney muttered after getting off the phone.

"Hey mija, what you looking at?" Tina asked sitting down to eat lunch.

"Just apartments. I finally have the funds to move" Sydney answered with a sigh.

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy to be getting out on your own?"

"Oh, yeah for sure. It's just I'm really picky"

"Well, it doesn't have to be forever. Just make sure to read the reviews. You don't want roaches or bed bugs".

"Oh, I can't stand bugs! My dad still has to kill them for me, but I better get a fly swatter and spray now that I'll be on my own soon."

Break was over and Sydney stood up to resume her duties. First she needed to talk to Natalie about the upcoming private party. A celebrity had reserved the entire restaurant next Thursday evening. The names of all staff members on duty that night had to be submitted ahead of time with signed NDAs. It was all happening so fast and The Bear's debt was likely to be paid less than a year after opening. First there had been a Grio article about her being a rising black chef. That led to Keith Lee, the TikTok restaurant reviewer, raving about his to-go order that included the T-Bone and the Michael cannoli. It went viral and suddenly, they were booked for the next three months with a waiting list. She was working harder than ever, getting paid pretty well, and she deserved a place of her own.

After talking to Natalie, she found Carmy working on her prep.

"Hey, thanks! I can take over that now if you want"

"Actually….it's done. I wanted to take you somewhere for like 30 minutes" he said finishing up and cleaning the station.

Sydney folded her arms, her eyebrows raised high.

"Okay, where are we going?"

"I know you've been looking for a place and I think know the perfect apartment for you. Just a 10 minute walk from here. The landlord gave me the key so I could show you today" Carmy said trying to sound casual, but a deep pink flush rose in his cheeks.

"Why is he being weird?" Sydney thought but simply said "Okay, that's dope."

The Chicago air was soft and warm, the clean sunlight making everything look new. Summer afternoons like this made you forgive the brutal winters here. Carmy directed Sydney when to turn left and right, but refused to tell her where exactly they were going. Soon they were standing in front of his building.

The reason for his weirdness was now perfectly clear to Sydney and she felt so flattered that she had to avoid looking at Carmy when she said "So, there's an open unit in your building?"

"Uh, yeah. The people who lived just above me moved and I, uh, thought you might want to see it".

The apartment was on the fourth floor. Carmy unlocked the door and let Sydney go in first. The walls were freshly painted in "Cloud White" and the oak hardwood floors creaked comfortably under their feet. The layout was the same as Carmy's apartment with plenty of windows to let in natural light and a shockingly large kitchen for a 1 bedroom place in Chicago. As Sydney inspected the appliances and bathroom, she decided that if the rent was going to eat up even half of her check it was worth it. She had always admired Carmy's spacious apartment and with her sense of style she could make hers, a cozy bohemian oasis filled with plants, wall art, and actual furniture (eventually).

Carmy had let her roam around in silence for a few minutes, muttering and emitting tiny sounds of joy to herself. When she met him in the living room again, he said trying not to grin too widely, "If you like it, it's already yours."

"How? I know places like this are snatched up fast" Sydney said her eyes finally able to meet his again.

"The landlords, they're a couple, and their 20th wedding anniversary is coming up. They want reservations at The Bear." Carmy explained, desperately hoping to sound nonchalant about it.

"Oh, that's nice work, Carmy."

Then Sydney squealed and cried "This is just what I wanted!!" and she flung her arms around his shoulders in a wild hug. Carmy commanded his body not to shudder as he hugged her back. She was just wearing a t-shirt and without her usual layers of clothing he felt her delicate frame, her slim shoulder blades imprinting on his fingers.

In a moment Sydney pulled back shly and let her arms fall to her sides, her face burning. She made a mental note: Hugging Carmy. Not a safe activity for those who want to cook along side him using sharp objects or sleep peacefully at night dreaming innocent thoughts.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!" Sydney said taking another step back and making another turn around the room.

Carmy nodded and concentrated on not melting into the floorboards.

"You're okay with this? We already spend 60+ hours together at the restaurant every week and now I'd be in your building! And literally living on top of you."

"Yeah, well, I want you to. You deserve everything you want, Syd."

"Then I'll take it! Just a warning though. If you hear someone belting out Kpop and an occasional thud, that's just my weekly one woman concert, which will be over no later than 10pm. I'm not being murdered."

Carm was no longer unable to contain the width of his smile. This girl is so cute, his body physically ached. How would he get through service tonight?

With a happy shake of his head, he replied, "Thank you, for the heads up!"

With that Sydney marched towards the door and exclaimed "Take me to your landlord!"

Carmy floated behind her.

Cue: Maxwell's "Whenever, Wherever, Whatever"

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 13

This really is getting down to the end here. I'm already at the Mind Flayer in the spot where I'm at in the story so...yeah. Then it would just one chapter after that. Maybe. I don't know. But it's sad to see this one go, too.

Of course as with "Can Anybody See Me?" once this is done, I will begin work on the final story which will take us all the way to the end of the fourth season. Which I hope to get done before season 5. Ideally.

It will have a line from a song in a musical just like the last two (1776 and The Scarlet Pimpernel respectively) so you have any songs you think will fit the theme of the third book (which will be Steve and Eddie clashing over nerds vs sports until that fateful day in March) let me know in the comments or tags or even a DM or ask. It took me months to come up with the title for this one, so any help would be great.

Here we have the dipshit detectives trying to figure out the message and the "secret tunnel".

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

~

Once they explained everything to Robin, she told them about what the message said. And no given the context of the message coming from the mall it suddenly made too sense.

“The clock tower, the shoe shop and the Chinese place,” she crowed. “It’s got to be.”

“You sure you translated it correctly?” Steve asked. “Because what the fuck does blue meeting yellow have anything to do with the clock tower?”

Robin rolled her eyes and huffed out a deep sigh. “The hour and minute hands are blue and yellow and meeting in the west would be 9:45!”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “AM or PM?”

Robin stared at him for a moment in shock. “Oh. I don’t know. Could be either I guess.”

Eddie looked at his watch and cursed. “As thrilling as all this has been, I have to get to band practice.” He gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “Be careful, Stevie. Okay?”

Steve nodded and squeezed Eddie’s shoulder back. God, he just want to kiss him goodbye, because it might be his last opportunity to do so. But Dustin and Robin were watching and probably half of the mall too. “As careful as I can be.”

“How can you be so super chill about this?” Robin asked after he left. “Like Russians are running around our mall and Eddie acts like this is a normal Tuesday for you?”

Dustin and Steve shared a glance.

But Steve just scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Like I’ve had the worst year. My girlfriend broke up with me, I got my head bashed in by Hargrove, I got harassed by the basketball team, I nearly got water dumped on my head because I won the part fair and square, then the same asshole tried to scramble my brains further, I didn’t get into the right colleges and was forced to work here instead of the rec center pool like have for the last three years, and a fuck ton of other things. Now Russians have set up shop in my home town? This is just the cherry on top of a very shit filled cake.”

Robin and Dustin winced. Dustin knew that Steve’s year was actually way worse than the truncated version he gave Robin, but they couldn’t tell her about the tunnels, El, monsters, and secret labs. Hence, fuck ton of things.

“Okay,” Robin conceded, “it does sound like your average Tuesday.” She looked up at the clock. “You’re supposed to be off, anyway. So shoo and take the genius child with you.”

Dustin beamed up Steve smugly, but Steve just knocked his hat off on his way to clock out.

“Hey!” Dustin shouted after him. He turned to Robin. “Can you believe this guy?”

Robin just shrugged. “You’re the one who’s friends with him, not me.”

Steve walked out moments later, twirling the hat on his finger. He walked past Dustin to the mall food court. He stopped and turned around.

“Are you coming or are you going to keep harassing workers?” he huffed, putting a hand on his hip.

Robin burst out laughing as Dustin hurried to catch up, scooping his hat off the floor in haste.

Steve shook his head as they walked through the mall. “Hey if we grab my binoculars, I bet we could stake out the mall and look for Russians.”

Steve looked at his watch and sighed. Eddie wouldn’t get done with band practice until much later tonight and he didn’t want to go back to his large empty house, because of course his parents fucked off to the Caribbean for the summer. His father had forced him to give up a job he loved for the most humiliating retail job imaginable and then fucked off to some place pleasant, leaving him to rot.

“Yeah, okay.”

Dustin let out a whoop and jumped up and down. “You won’t regret this!”

Steve buried his head in his hands. “I already do.”

~

Steve and Dustin were hiding behind a large potted plant with Dustin’s binoculars watching people go by.

“What are we supposed to looking for, anyway?” Steve asked, scanning the crowds.

“Russians.”

Steve tore himself away from the binoculars to glare at him. “Thank you for that unhelpful assessment. I know I’m supposed to be looking for Russians, but what do Russians look like?”

“I don’t know,” Dustin huffed. “Tall, blond, scary looking dudes, I guess.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept looking. He spotted Anna Jacobi flirting with Mark Lewinsky and huffed out a a noise of disgust.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said with a sigh. “Anna can do way better than swamp ass Lewinsky.”

Dustin smacked his shoulder. “Can you please take this seriously? You’re supposed to be looking for Russians, not your next date. Besides you already have the perfect girl right there!”

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to looking through the binoculars. “Don’t say Robin.”

“Robin.” Was the immediate response.

“No, man,” Steve said as Dustin grabbed the binoculars from him, “she’s not my type. She’s not even in the ballpark of my type.” Considering that she had boobies and not a dick, pretty much sealed the box on any chances of that romantic relationship going anywhere.

Dustin looked over at him and sneered. “And what’s your type again? Not awesome?”

Fuck you. But Steve sneered and stuck his tongue out. “Thank you.”

Dustin grinned back at him with a little hum.

“Look,” Steve said, “for your information, she’s still in school. And she’s weird. But not like Eddie weird. Weird, weird. And she’s hyper. Like worse than Eddie. At least if you put a book in his hand, he’ll settle down. She’ll tap her fingers and twirl her gum. She was also one of those kids in drama who didn’t think I deserved the role of Thomson. That’s a bad look. And she’s in band? But not a rock band like Eddie, a fucking trumpet.” He twisted his lips in disgust. “No.”

Dustin turned to face him. “Now that you’re out of school, that means you’re an adult. And don’t you think you should move past primitive social constructs like popularity?”

Steve looked at him as if he was joking. “Popularity? Are you fucking with me right now? Did you forget I wasn’t popular for the last four months of high school? Primitive constructs, I tell you. Where the hell did you learn that shit? Camp Know Nothing?”

“Camp Know Where, actually,” Dustin huffed, “And no, it’s shit I learned from life. Instead of dating someone you think will make you cool again, why not date someone you enjoy being around for a change? Like me and Suzie.” He smiled broadly. He turned back to watching the through the binoculars.

Steve was soo close to just telling the little shit that he was dating someone he enjoyed being around, someone who did make him look cooler, someone who loved him for him and not in spite of him. But instead he took a deep breath and said, “Oh Suzie. Yeah, you mean hotter than Phoebe Cates. That Suzie. And let’s think about how exactly you scored a girlfriend?”

He scratched his head, appearing to think about it, then he snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah, with my advice. Because that’s how this works, Henderson. I give the advice and you follow through. Not the other way around, all right?”

Dustin sighed. “I just think you could really benefit from being with someone like her, you know?”

Steve rubbed the top of the kid’s head. “I’m doing better than you think I am. Better then everyone thinks I am.”

Dustin stared at him skeptically, but left it alone. Steve knew that there was no way he was going to leave it alone. He just knew that it was going to come back and bite him in the ass in the worst way and at the worst time. He could feel it.

~

“There is a secret room under the mall,” Steve said slowly, not quite wanting to believe this. “And we can get there through the air vents in the break room?”

Robin nodded emphatically. “Yeah, isn’t that cool?”

He had no idea how to tell her how uncool that actually was, because Jesus fuck, the deeper they got into this, the more over his head he felt.

“Let’s go see your secret tunnel,” he said with a sigh, rubbing his face, just suddenly exhausted by the whole thing.

He followed them to the back and looked up at the vent in utter despair. Sighing, he got a ladder and set it up, then hunted around for a screwdriver. Once he found one, he tucked it between his teeth and started climbing. He reached the vent and unscrewed the screws holding the vent in place.

“Oi!” he called out to Dustin. “Hold these!” He held out the screws for him to take. “Don’t lose them, otherwise people are going to ask why there is a great big gaping hole in the wall.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Steve put the screwdriver back between his teeth and took off the vent cover.

“It’s a tight space,” he murmured. “Hey, Robin you think you could fit? You’re pretty thin.”

Robin put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “While I appreciate you thinking I’m skinny enough to fit, I question your sanity if you think I’m going down the creepy tunnel.”

“Vent!” Dustin huffed. “You’ve both called it a tunnel. It’s not a tunnel, it’s a vent. And none of us are small enough to fit.”

DING! DING! “Hey!” someone called out from the front of the store. “Is anyone here?”

Steve who had been climbing down the ladder, stopped and shared a look with Dustin. A slow smile took over their faces.

“Erica!” they said together with glee.

They ran out to the front with Robin fast on their heels. They skidded to a stop and their smiles grew to actual grins when they saw that she was alone and not with her many friends.

“Erica...hey,” Steve said smoothly, leaning against the counter. “What can I get you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Why are you suddenly being so nice?”

Just then Dustin and Robin burst out of the back room and stumbled into front and Erica was even more suspicious than she was before.

So Steve bundled her over to one of the booths and tried plying her with all the ice cream a little girl could conceivably eat, while Dustin filled both Robin and Erica about the messages and all their clues and how they put it all together. It was a hard but impressive sell.

“So will you do it for America?” Dustin asked.

“Well, you can’t spell America without Erica,” she said smugly. “A life time supply of Scoops Ice Cream and you’ve got a deal.”

Robin and Steve shared a glance. Then Steve reached across the table to shake Erica’s hand.

“Deal.”

~

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

And if you remember something else there from WIP Wednesday... yeah. It wasn't fitting with the rest of the story and had to be cut. Sadness.

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina @bluelightsinthevoid @blcksh33p1987 @i-go-pink-in-the-night @mamafaithful

[eriexplosion]

Okay so something that comes up a lot in discussions of season 3 is that it's rushed or that they had a fourth season cut from production and... I do see where it comes from given how many things just Stop rather than end. But when you look at what does get resolved vs what doesn't, I just don't see it being an issue of having to cut things for time.

When writers find themselves with suddenly much less time to tell a story in, the first thing to go is the extras: the minor subplots, the story and character garnishes, the secondary character arcs. These kind of things get cut in order to focus on the main characters and resolving the primary plot.

TBB season 3 meanwhile INTRODUCES new subplots with the extended journey to get to Tantiss, the force kids, Rampart coming back and resolving his story. It finishes Emerie's subplot to the point that we get her telling us everything she plans to do from here. It takes the time to show us the Durands, the clone kids from season one, putting in Fennec and Ventress. These are the things that get cut when you're running short on time, they're not going to cut a Tech reveal, a resolution to Crosshair's guilt, wrapping up Echo and Rex's story, in favor of a bunch of tiny subplots. That just isn't how cutting things for time works. You start with the small stuff and then work up.

So it leaves us with two paths here, knowing what we did resolve versus what we didn't - 1. This was always the plan and they didn't consider what they produced to be dropping anything, or 2. The series is finished but the story isn't.

I think I've talked about it enough to be clear that I'm leaning heavily towards 2. The interesting thing about tbb season 3 is it's actually not rushed - if anything it's stalling. Getting to Tantiss was as simple as letting Omega's plan work, doing a Tech reveal is as simple as replacing saving the force kids with saving the CXs. Instead we get to drag getting to the facility an extra 3 episodes while Omega deals with this new plot point we only find out about at all in episode 10. We get a whole Fennec episode that serves only to introduce an also unnecessary Ventress episode. We have an entire episode of Crosshair and Omega on the run shenanigans.

So we have plenty of side stuff that works to support the characters but isn't strictly required for the primary plot, and we have a solid handful of main plots (Tech's death being full of holes big enough to sail through, what happens to Echo next, does Crosshair still feel guilty enough to be a death seeker, Wrecker's reaction to anything that happened, most of project necromancer) that go unfinished. In fact the only main series long plot to get resolved is Hunter and Omega's relationship.

That leisurely pace, along with several comments from Jennifer Corbett and Brad Rau about this being the end of a "chapter," is what makes me think that what ended was just Omega's POV being the primary one we experience the story from. The story of trying to find a place within the batch maybe - because regardless of anything else, she's found her place, Crosshair has at least started to find his. Echo is separate from the team but knows that they're always going to be accepted back and will always come when needed. Tech, if he's alive, still has his place on the team - its shown repeatedly that no one can do what he does, his spot is simply not fillable.

A story has resolved. But not ALL of the story. There's more that can be told, and I do think it's very likely they still have plans to tell it. Even if they don't, just going by how season 3 progressed, I think that it's very likely that the biggest change in season 3 was just squishing the original episodes 15 & 16 together into one long episode 15. I don't think that they had to make major last minute cuts for time, because the things that are missing are NOT the things that get cut when trying to cram in too much story. A cut season 4 is the one thing I don't think happened.

What did happen, that's harder to be sure of, but I'm still crossing my fingers for the rest of their story to be told with Rex and Echo's and the rest of the clones. There's a lot more possibility out there.

[anitalianfrie]

5 questions to... Enea Bastianini

Moto Sprint, 15.05.2013

Born in: Rimini Age: 15 years old What he won: 9 titles between Minimoto, MiniGP and Trofei Honda What is he racing in this year: Rookies Cup

1 First season on the "adult's" bikes, after years between minibikes and MiniGP and you've already got interesting results A fourth place in the Italian Moto3 championship, where i race on a Honda. But the best came with the Rookies Cup. It didn't go well in Austin, I even fell in the first race. But I made up for it in Jerez: i got third in the first race and won the following one. I feel good with the KTM and the satisfaction of winning in a Championship raced alongside MotoGP is... too big

2 You can finally see your idols in real life To be honest the rider I like more out of everyone doesn't race anymore. It was Casey Stoner, I adored his way of riding the bike and I especially loved when he won races starting as fast as lighting, getting in front of everyone and going on like this to the end of the race. I know that everybody prefers it when there's fighting on track, but I go against the current. Now I get enchanted watching Marquez.

3 You obviously daydream of following his steps Obviously. What rider wouldn't dream of racing in MotoGP? But you need to go step by step. The Rookies Cup is a gret display window, but the transition to the MotoGP World Championships is only granted to the winner. And there are great riders here...

4 Your biography says that you were already on a motorbike when you were three years and three months old I had training wheels, but they got them of quite early. Bikes don't allow half measures: either you like them a lot or... you do some other sport. I was lucky to have a father who really loved two wheels, but who didn't have the means to race. He passed his passion to me, without ever forcing me. I chose, even when I was young, to race. And it's a pity they don't allow me to get my hands on the engines, in the box, because I would really like to get the bike set on my own.

5 Did you chose the right school? Yes, a mechanical school, where we learn everything about engines. This is my true passion. Last year I used to go to a different school, and I didn't feel well there. I even failed that year. But all it took for everything to get fixed was changing school, following my true inclinations

[lightshiningforth]

The third season of TUA had Allison, grief-stricken and desperate, go down a dark path. She allied against her siblings with (a version of) their abusive father to build a new world catered to her (and his) wishes. Then, in the fourth season, all of that gets brushed over.

Why don’t we get to see Allison adjusting to the world she made? Struggling with the uncanniness of it, the ethics? She has her husband from the 1960s, Ray, and her daughter from the 2010s, Claire. How does that work? Is this a world in which Ray is Claire’s biological father… in which case, does Allison feel like an ache hidden deep in her heart that this is NOT the daughter she lost, the original one she had with Patrick? Or, is Patrick still Claire’s father, and if so… where is he? Did Allison write a world where she and Patrick are still divorced, but here, SHE gets custody? Or did she write Patrick out of existence, and Claire is a staggering anomaly. A girl whose father isn’t dead, isn’t absent, but never existed. How does Claire remember her childhood, given that she sprang into existence fully formed at the age Allison remembered her? Does Claire ever get a creeping sensation that her memories are off? Does Allison feel guilty that she conjured Claire from memory and robbed her of her true past? Or, does she feel righteous and justified about getting a do-over?

And Ray, oh, Ray. How does he experience the world? They fell in love specifically as activists in the 1960s. Does he remember? Did she build him an alternate backstory? Do his memories go fuzzy around the edges if he thinks about them too hard? Does he leave her, leave this woman about whom an alternate version of himself said, “I would take this year with you over a lifetime with anyone else,” because something in his gut screamed WRONG WRONG WRONG? Or does he know, does he remember everything they went through… and he leaves her because she knew how he felt about staying in his own time and world and she took him from it anyway?

How does Allison cope when the perfect family she went mad to make starts falling apart?

And the siblings, the siblings… at the last moment in season 3, Viktor powers down and decides to trust Allison. The others don’t make that call. Where’s the confrontation with them? The brothers railing against her for working with Hargreeves for her own ends, while she shoots back that they didn’t care when SHE lost everything? Where’s the anger from Luther, from Ben, that this glorious new world doesn’t have Sloane in it?

What was the point of constructing such a juicy, conflict-ridden situation only to brush right by it?

[lucigoo]

Weekly roundup: 1st August - 31st August

(I know its technically a month, but like the last one, its just until I catch up lol)

I wrote 13 fics in August, totalling 88,453 words so im pretty proud of that.

As always, recs first and then my fics under the cuts <3

Ringbearers - CQueen - The Hobbit (2012) (Bilbo/Thorin, aftelrife shennigans!!!!)

Summary: Having crossed over to the afterlife together Frodo decides to play matchmaker and insists that he and his uncle must go on an adventure together. What do they seek? Why his uncle's long dead friends, particularly Thorin Oakenshield.

Washing Day - StupidFatPenguin - The Hobbit - All Media Types (Bilbo/Thorin, Viking au!)

Summary: “What do you mean you bathe more than once per season?”

After only a short while of travelling with his heathen captors, Bilbo discovers that the tales of the fearsome, filthy and savage Northmen from his childhood might be much closer to great inaccuracy than the actual truth.

Dwalin Guards Thorin's Heart - SunnyRose - The Hobbit - All Media Types (Bilbo/Thorin, Dwalin & Bilbo, as always, @sunnyrosewritesstuff's fics are amaing!)

Summary: After the Carrock, Thorin pulls Dwalin aside asking him to protect his One from harm. Dwalin had no idea how difficult a task this was going to be, but the Burglar is an accident magnet!

The Tweed Fairy - lisellelascelles - The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) (Bilbo/Thorin, I rarely read smut, but when i do, its usually @lisellelascelles as it i smut with feelings, the only kind I like, and I adore this one!)

Summary: After working in the States for more than a decade, Thorin goes back to England to help his recently widowed older sister, and reconnect with his extended family. It’s early summer, the UEFA championship is firing up, and everyone meets in the local pub to watch the historic England vs. Scotland match. There he sees a small fellow all dolled up with tweed trousers and braces and a ridiculous retro football T-shirt underneath. He mocks him, coming across as a massive twat and a bigot to boot, without knowing the man is his cousin’s boyfriend’s best friend. When he later has an opportunity to redeem himself, what can he do but grab it and squeeze it…?

Take me as I am - phiaura - The Witcher (TV) (Geralt/Jaksier, please mind the tags, but it is SO good!)

Summary: Thus, a deal was struck, a treaty agreed upon. Rivia would not take military action against any allied kingdom and in turn, the kingdoms would provide the king of Rivia with a consort. So far, that last bit was the part of the treaty that had gone to shit. As far as Jaskier had understood, up to now the White Wolf had turned down all the proffered brides. If a consort was not approved, the treaty would be null and void.

Where Jaskier is the last chance of fulfilling the requirements of a treaty between the warlord of Rivia, and the allied kingdoms. Will it prove to be his rescue or his doom?

Pieces Tossed Aside - Anagrrl - Firefly (Malcom/Simon, aplocalypse au,)

Summary: Paquin goes silent. Everything else follows. AU set after the TV series.

I hope theres at least on foc for you all to enjoy, have a good week <3

Now for my fics, bare with me, when we get back to actual weekly roundups these lists will be much smaller lol.

The gold of your eyes is worth more then all of my medals (Sirius/Remus, olympics Au)

Summary: After a disastorous drunk driving crash caused by Siirus he ran from Remus, the love of his life.

10 years later and Remus is watching as the only man he has ever loved gains his fourth Olympic gold medal, now if only he owuld smile at Remus the way he is at the camera.

The Babes of War (Gen fic, pleae mind the tags, it tooks of child soldiers, im still not over the fact that 16 year old Gloin was at war!!!, also thank you so much to @mrkida-art for all the Tolkein canon information they provided which helped me write this fic)

Summary: Thror has taken to many dwarves to fight at Azanulbizar. This includes a 16 year old Gloin and his cousins, none of whom are of age.

A story of child soldiers whose whole world changes after one disatorous battle caused by a gold mad king.

Not Dorcas the Orca, two of three Marauders and a jail cell (Sirius/Remus, James Potter. Another self indulgant fic for my Wolfstar fandom family, they know who they are <3)

Summary: Sirius and James once again find themselfs in a jail cell with Dorcas (who was once an orce in this very same cell) only this isn't really Dorcas, even though they look exactly like them, huh?

Gollum's song (Bilbo & Gollum, mind the tags, MCDs)

Summary: Bilbo's heart is broken as he tries to recover as much as possible at Beorn's after BOFTA. He needs all the strenght he can regain because he has a new Quest to go on.

One where he may save another lost to the darkness the Ring causes.

That house was not a home:I never meant to leave you there alone (Sirius/Remus, Sirius & Regulus, Minor character death, grief)

Summary: Sirius wakes up in morning, reads the Daily Prophet and his whole life was suddenly changed.

The world is cruel and dark and he needs his brother who is forever gone.

There's no way out: the door is barred by the demon in my lovers skin (Bilbo/Thorin, please mind the tags, MCD, DD:DE!)

Summary: Thorin has never recovered from the Dragon sickness and ow it is Bilbo who is suffering because of it.

He is trapped and alone under Thorin's thumb and fists.

Bilbo just wants his dwarf back, instead he has a monster wearing Thorin's face hurting him.

It Was Never What It Seemed (Bilbo/Thorin, please mind the tags, it has some upsetting themes, but this, THIS is a fic i sent moe than a year on. If i never wrote anythig again, it would be ok because I managed to write and finish this particular fic A huge thank you to @sunnyrosewritesstuff for all their help writing it and for the title itself, and to @brandileigh2003 for all the emotional support i needed when writing the heavier hitting chaps. Thank you both, i appreciate it so much <3)

Summary: It has been 8 years since Bilbo has lest stepped foot in Erebor. He needs to talk to his husband, especially as he is now about to marry another. Another who is not Bilbo.

Bilbo left and when he did he left Thorin broken hearted. Now he is to marry a Blacklock Princess, consequences be damned.

Follow along with our favourite dwarf and hobbit as they find their way back to one another, No matter how painful the journey is.

Violets for the one I adore (Percy/Viktor, written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt - Gifted violets)

Summary: Viktor has been a retired house husband and stay-at-home dad for 4 months now. Percy has never been happier.

There's a monster under my bed (Gen fic, Percy & Fred & George Weasley, written for the @change-is-perceivable fest)

Summary: There's a monster in Percy's room and no one will help him deal with it. Instead he is facing his bedroom door, wondering if anyone will care if the monster eats him.

It's hard being the good boy in such a large, chaotic family sometimes.

Don't try and drink your grief away (Gen fic, Percy & Geroge & Harry, grief, alcoholism, also written for the @change-is-perceivable fest)

Summary: Percy is blaming himself for Fred's death, after all he is the one who spoke to him, joked with him last.

He isn't coping well and has resorted to drinking.

Drunk Percy does something unthinkingly. Something he can't remember doing.

Destined Embrace: The Love That Healed the Noldor (Fingon/Maedhros (Tolkien), written for the @tolkienrsb, wih amaing art form the talented @wisteria53)

Summary: Fingon is going to rescue his best friend, his possibly something more, Maedhros, no matter what it takes.

Fingon is going to rescue his best friend, his possibly something more, Maedhros, no matter what it takes.

He is going to take him home to Gondolin and keep him safe. Maybe their friendship will grow along with their feelings of safety.

In the Darkness, You are My Shining Star (Gimli/Legolas, also written for @tolkienrsb, but this one has amazing art from @babybat98. I was paired with another amazing artist <3)

Summary: The Trope of Thorin Oakeshield are excavation miners in the depths of space working hard to feed and support their fledgling colony.

The neweest recruits have been allowed into space. Gimli Gloinson is one of those recruits. he is oging to learn how scary space can be, but also how very rewarding it can be too.

Back to where we belong (Ron/Hermione, as part of the Love of Fest Discord server, for the flash comp - Back to roots fest)

Summary: It's time to pick this years family holiday.

Ron knows where he wants to go. He wants to go back, he wants to go home.

[keysorsomething]

Everyone Has a Reason To Stay (Primireniye)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 7

Hello everyone, I know it's been just over a month since I posted the last part, but I'm back with this one!

Cross-posted on Ao3

Velikan didn't have to think too hard about what to do. How to keep Nikto in check.

He didn't know much about the Russian man - he was always so distant. But he was there, on that mission in Africa with the Jackals.

It had taken a lot of bribery and over a week of following the Russian, but now he has his ace. He shushes the fluffy beast as it fights to be put down. He grumbles at it, telling it to calm down, but it doesn't listen. It probably doesn't even understand him.

Still, with all of the struggle, he manages to get the wild animal to the door. He places the beast down, straightening up to knock on the door before the thought that it will run off spoils it. He swings his leg over it, like how you get on a horse, using his knees to keep it from scrambling.

He grumbles - standing like this is not comfortable at all - before knocking at the door.

He hears the grumbles of Russian cursing, and the door swings open with a defined “Иди на хуй!” before the man stops. It’s a disturbing sight, watching him go from a full swing of movement to as still as a statue. “Oh, Velikan,” he mumbles, “We thought-” Velikan cuts him off with a grumble and pushes a small envelope into his hands, before shifting his legs to let the hyena held by them go.

The beast rushes forward, nearly toppling the Russian man as it begs for his attention. Velikan nods to him and is nodded to in return. The door shuts, and Velikan slips back to his own room.

He just hopes Dimtry was right with this plan.

Nikto is bewildered, reading over the pretty, collected Cyrillic writing on the letter. It tells him to be good - to not get in too much trouble. Sloppier handwriting tells him to save the nose-breaking for the field, encouraging him to show off some time and lamenting the writer won’t be there to see it. A third writer taunts him, telling him to keep the hyena fed and clean as it’s the only body that will keep his bed warm now - before telling him not to watch a film without them.

There’s a fourth paragraph, the shortest one, that talks about their time in the Allegiance. It tells Nikto how proud the author was. “There was a reason I picked you. You were a good soldier,” the writing is the most swirly - traditional Russian cursive burning the blue eyes that scan it. Nikto’s head is jumbled, it had been far too long since he had read anything in his language. He blinks in confusion at the names signed at the bottom of the page:

Дмитрий

МИНОТАВР

Нико

Коля)

Nikto is surprised at the dull ache in his chest. The creeping feeling of nostalgia at the edges of his mind. The smell of the dog shampoo Rodion used on Sputnik creeps up into his nostrils, seeping into the mask at a suffocating rate. His hands shake.

…Do they?

Is that blood in his mouth? Is he biting his lip? He can’t tell. Nor can he tell if that is the paper crinkling in his hands. Everything is silent. Or muted, like he had been hit with a stun. His brain is fuzzy, oh so fuzzy.

His brain is always fuzzy.

He can not tell what time it is in his room. There are no clocks, no natural light. He does not mean to keep it that way. Still, it feels late at night - 2am, or perhaps 4. Or maybe it feels like the afternoon, on a slow day. A day after a long mission, when he lays dully in his bed, eyes barely open. He can not remember when he’d done this - if he’d done this, but the thought is there.

He kneels down, placing the paper on the floor and letting fur meet him. The hyena laughs, standing on his knees. Its body twitches, sides pulling in and pushing out as it sniffs at his face. It is fluffy, the thick fur coat from its winters in the outskirts of Moscow yet to thin out. What season was it? Would he begin to shed, or was he just building it?

Where were they? Would he need such a thick coat?

Sound returns to Nikto as he thinks about the hyena. His other senses do, too. He blinks slowly, looking around. The hyena is heavy on him, and there’s pressure on his face, his mask pushing into him. His hands come up to the beast’s fluffy side, feeling the fullness of the being.

“Спутник,” Nikto whispers, turning to meet the snout pushing into his face. He lets out a sigh. “You are back with me,” He blinks, taking a moment as he studies the image of the animal in front of him. It squeals, tail whipping through the air enough to cause the sound of breaking air, the one you hear at the drop of a rollercoaster, or the sound of rushing wind past your ears, through your hair, as you ride through the streets with the windows of the car down.

Nikodim always used to do that. Nikto could remember, just enough. Just enough to make that ache more present in his heart. He does not remember it enough to see it, or does he? Can he see the image of the young man, much younger than the rest of the soldiers in the Allegiance, short hair whipping across his face and over the seat back, all four windows down as he drives far too fast with that awful American trash pop blasting out into the crisp air? Was that an image he had ever seen?

Nikto could not remember. He could not tell if the image he was seeing was one of his own creation, of his brain’s creation. He did not know if there was more than those vile blotches, empty spots in his head, hid.

He wanted it back. He wanted all of it back.

Well…. maybe not all.

Nikto swallows thickly, “I will not leave you behind again,” He announces to the beast. “We will be together. “всегда́,” He mumbles, pressing his face into the hyena’s. “We will get you ужин, Да?” The hyena pants as he stands, obeying the soft order of “Сидеть,” while the shadow of his owner slips into the darkness of the hall, once more melting into nothing.

The shape strikes again.

Luckily, the only casualty this time is a hunk of brisket Graves was set to cook.

Something the rest of the site is very thankful for.

(Translations:

Primireniye (примирение): Russian; reconciliation

Дмитрий: Russian; Cyrillic spelling of Dimtry

МИНОТАВР: Russian; MINOTAUR

Нико: Russian; Cyrillic spelling of Niko

Коля: Russian; Cyrillic spelling of Koyla (common diminutive of Nikolai)

Спутник: Russian; Cyrillic spelling of Sputnik

всегда́: Russian; forever

ужин: Russian, dinner/evening meal

Да: Russian; yes

Сидеть: Russian; stay)

(An hour or so before)

Velikan stands outside, eyes flicking around the dark corners every now and again. Oh, Graves was going to jump his ass tomorrow. But, you were so sad when you came to him. And Velikan was only so trusted to catch Nikto’s hands.

He was nothing like the men he had contacted. Nowhere near as important - not that that upset him. He could handle being underneath the men. Though he was very careful not to mention too much about you, he was sure that would just crush the little heart of the young man he was there to meet tonight.

Speaking of which, a nice car pulls into the dark lot. It was pretty much abandoned - no one goes to Arby’s this late. Well, do they ever? That doesn’t matter, right now. Velikan’s back straightens as he stands, stepping away from the truck he was leaning on. The car stops, the loud bass through it shutting off quickly.

“Блять, Niko!” The hiss of a familiar voice enters the air. “Ти мало не влаштував мені серцевий напад!” He scolds.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Nikodim’s reply came back, desperate.

“You drive like a maniac,” Yegor responds, stepping out of the car. His eyes settle on Velikan fast, approaching him calmly. Rodion stays behind, coaxing the hyena out of the car. Yegor watches, arms crossing. “До біса цей російський, making me babysit,” He mumbles to Velikan, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that was Nikolai’s favorite thing to do,” Velikan responds, nodding his head.

Yegor turns to him, brows furrowed, “Що?” He asks. Velikan lets out a loud grunt and nods more obviously to show that he is agreeing. Yegor nods too, before sighing. “But Rodion is not a bad kid, he is just…” He gestures toward the man, and Velikan nods.

“Godspeed,” He grunts out, patting Yegor’s shoulder. Rodion approaches, hyena on a leash. Oh, God, what was Velikan doing? This motherfucker was going to get him put on Fatal Attractions. He is compelled to agree with Yegor. Goddamn Nikolai for putting him in this position. For hiring him, so he had to meet Nikto, so he had to be the one you went to to keep him in check, so he had to talk to Dmitry, so he had to get a hyena from Rodion. This was too much. Why did he agree, again?

That doesn’t matter as he opens the back door of the truck to help Rodion load Sputnik into the back seat. The whole time, Rodion is fussing about making sure the hyena is happy.

“He takes his orders in Russian, he doesn’t know English,” The young man explains, going on to list things like sit and heel, before he turns to Velikan. The masked man was busy adjusting the blanket he had set down on the seats before he had his shoulders grabbed and he was whipped around. “And tell him Молодец when he follows an order, okay?” He speaks, eyes low. “Okay? He has to know he’s done a good job. He’s a good boy,” Velikan nods, grunting lowly.

“Rodion get in the car,” Yegor orders, causing the youngest man to flinch.

“Молодец!” He re-affirms to Velikan, before slipping away and taking his seat back in the sports car.

Yegor huffs, rolling his eyes, before approaching Velikan with a white envelope, “A letter, for Nikto. I… did not participate, we didn’t speak much. But everyone in the Spetsnaz wrote something. I even got Nikolai to write a little.”

Velikan grips the paper, “Krueger?”

Yegor looks down, letting the paper go, “немає,” he shakes his head. Velikan looks down at the paper. He uses his other hand to move the mask, slipping the bottom off. As much as he likes his mask, he needs this question answered.

“Is he dead?” He asks, hidden eyes flickering over Yegor’s face. The Ukrainian man shakes his head.

“Not as far as I know,” He responds, “Just… MIA.”

“Ah,” Velikan nods, “Good luck with the kid,” He mumbles, pushing his mask back into place. Yegor chuckles.

“Good luck with the beast,” Yegor responds.

Velikan chuckles, “The hyena or Nikto?”

They laugh together for a moment before they turn separate ways and enter their respective cars.

Now all there was between him and his good night's sleep is a good old military man-pet reunion.

(Блять: Russian/Ukrainian; Vulgar exclamation (akin to fuck! or shit!)

Ти мало не влаштував мені серцевий напад!: Ukranian; You almost gave me a heart attack!

До біса цей російський: Ukranian; To hell with that Russian

Що: Ukrainian; What?

Молодец: Russian; Well done

немає: Ukrainian; No)

[eveningepiphany]

bestie i definitely want a part two of the mistletoe!

Mistletoe | H.S, part 2

my masterlist <3

if you have any requests, send them in here

summary: Y/Ns flight gets canceled last minute after their morning BBC show, and without anywhere to go she calls harry— and it’s their first time alone together after the kiss they’d shared under the mistletoe.

warnings: smut, soft/bestfriend harry, oral f receiving, PIV unprotected, riding, praise kink, fluff, and dirty talk.

a/n: thank you all so much for your support on part one! I hope you enjoy this just as much, and thank you for your patience in waiting for this— hope your holiday season was filled with fun. I <3 soft harry.

———

The morning show had gone great, despite the mountains of tension between you and Harry. Maybe no one else picked up on it, and you were just hyper aware of his every glance and touch.

Hell, maybe you were even reading into it. Maybe last night was just a one off thing. A spur of the moment—never to be talked about— kind of thing. It could’ve meant nothing.

You’d woken up together, his alarm blaring from his phone further down the his mattress. You’d groaned together, collectively complaining about how fucking early it was. But not once mentioned last night, or the fact you woke up together.

But you didn’t have another chance to talk about it— when he and Anne dropped you all off at the airport he hugged you last out of the boys— it was a tight hug, paired with a whispered, ‘I’ll call you when you’re home.’

So you are unsure where everything stands. And you’d been left to mull it over in the uncomfortable airport chairs that you’d already been in for far too long.

You’d been in this damn airport far too long.

You suppose now though, the whole thing with you and Harry is the currently the least of your problems.

The rest of the boys are probably home by now.

“Assholes.” You mutter, cursing them for that exact reason.

Your gate had begun to quieten down since the announcement of the delay.

The boys flights were hardly an hour after you got to the airport, yours on the other hand was about 5.

Within those 5 hours, a storm had came crashing over this part of the UK.

Now you were without accomodation for the next 16 hours, which was apparently the earliest they could reschedule.

It was already 9:30pm– so you didn’t know what to do with yourself, it’s a long time to wait around in the airport.

You knew it was gonna be hard to get a hotel room, given how many flights had been delayed this last minute.

So, you sat for a minute and contemplate it. Without many other options you opened your phone and rung the only person who you could think of. The only person you had been thinking of.

You pressed your lips together as it rung, and on the fourth ring his voice came through.

“Y/N, love?” He sounded a little raspy, tired.

“Harry, im so sorry— you weren’t asleep were you?” You say, quickly feeling apologetic.

“No, no— jus’ laying down on the couch watching friends, why? It’s like 9:30 shouldn’t you be on your flight?”

“Yea uh… I am supposed to be.” Your voice faltered a little at the end, you just wanted to go home. You were already emotionally exhausted, and this on top was proving to be a bit much.

You glance outside the airport windows trying to distract yourself— not wanting to start having a mental breakdown in the middle of the airport and draw unwanted attention your way. It had got dark hours ago but it was clearly bucketing down rain.

“What happened?” He asked, immediately sounding concerned at your wavering voice.

“Is it not raining at your place? It torrential here, my flight got delayed.” You laugh a little, without humour.

“No it’s not— how far back was it pushed?”

“16 hours, not till 1pm tomorrow.” You sigh.

“Holy shit…” He audibly gasps through the speaker.

“I hate to be asking, but is it ok if I catch a taxi or an Uber back yours? I don’t think I’m gonna find anywhere to st—“

“Y/N, you are not catching a taxi or an Uber, I’m coming to get you.” He states, and you hear him shuffling in the background. Keys getting pulled from a drawer.

“You don’t have to come get me, I’m fine to get there—“

He cuts you off again, “Nope, I’m getting in the car now, I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Harry, I swear I’ll be ok!” You feel terrible, knowing he is probably just as tired as you are.

“See y’soon, stay warm. Buy somethin’ to eat and drink while you wait, love. Call you when I get there.” You hear the engine start, you don’t even have time to protest anymore because he hangs up on you.

You groan aloud, frustration mixed with gratitude coursing through you.

Standing from the chair you’d been sitting in, you stretch. Sunglasses and beanie pulled over your face to try and prevent people from recognising you.

Even though you felt guilty he was driving all this way to get you, you were also relieved. trying to get an Uber somewhere, especially with your status is anxiety inducing to say the least.

You just hoped he drove safe in this weather.

You decide to go and buy food, sourcing a place that served your favourites.

The hour dragged on after you’d ate, and you felt drowsy. You were sitting at one of the tables closer to the exit, charging your phone when it rung.

When you answered, Harry of course was on the other side of the line.

“Hey sweet, sorry for the wait. I’m out the front.” You smile with relief, glad he was here safe.

“Thank you so much, H. I’m coming out now—“

“I parked in the 5 minute ones, you’ll see my car.”

You quickly chuck your charger into your bag, grabbing your suitcase and head straight for the sliding doors.

A blast of freezing wind hits you as you walk out, and you feel it to your bones.

True to his word, you spot Harry’s car a few metres away, and you were grateful he got such a close park.

He gets out the moment he sees you, popping the trunk.

“Are you ok?” He asks the second you’re close enough to hear him over the wind and rain, grabbing your face between his warm hands.

“Mmhm— just emotionally burnt out. Thank you for coming to get me.” You smile, his concern endearing.

He nods, relief thrumming through him. He picks up your suitcase, placing it into his trunk.

You both hurry into his car, trying to get out of the cold.

It’s perfectly warm in there, and you strap into the passenger side.

“You didn’t have to come all this way. I appreciate it though.” You whisper.

“Yes I did. I know you’re safe, and that we’ll get home together in one piece. That is worth endlessly more than an hour drive.”

You feel his words seep into the centre of your chest, warm and soft. You reach your hand over to grab his, squeezing it.

You don’t move it and he starts to drive, and you both talk about random stuff as you usually do together. It half lulls you to sleep, your head leaning against the window.

This hour went much faster, the highway was quiet and his home town even quieter.

You pull into his childhood home, and he turns the engine off.

You force your head up, shaking your limbs out. “I’m awake.”

He laughs at you trying to convince yourself. You slide out the car door, legs feeling a little numb as they try to hold you up.

He grabs your suitcase out for you, wheeling it to the access door and unlocking it.

The lamps are dimly lit, and the TV not properly turned off— it was clear he had left in a moments notice.

“Thank you.” You say, for what had to be the 12th time.

“Stop thanking me, Y/N.” He chuckles.

It was nearly midnight now, and he walked over to flick everything off.

“Is Anne asleep?”

“Yea, mum went to bed pretty early— was too early a start for her this morning. Or yesterday, seeing it’s nearly midnight.”

“I’m feeling her, I could’ve fell asleep at the damn airport.”

You trudge towards the stairs, carrying up your suitcase.

He quickly follows you up once everything downstairs is off.

You stop at the top, placing your bag down with a quiet thump and a pant— it was physical workout, considering how much your bag weighed. It baffles you how Harry carries it like it weighs nothing.

Your eyes flit over to the window without even thinking, straight to where you’d shared that kiss. The one you’d been replaying in your head since it happened.

Your first, and very perfect kiss together.

He’s standing behind you quietly, clocking where your eyes are looking. And he’s reliving the exact same memory as you.

He draws in a breath, trying to stabilise his emotions— his fingertips burning with the pure need to touch you.

You swallow at the thought of stumbling into his room last night, realising you just assumed you were staying in there tonight as well.

“Forget where you’re going, sweet?” He runs his hand down your back.

The touch leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“No… just- distracted.” You mumble, allowing him to slip past you and lead you into his room.

It smells just like him as you walk in, and it will never fail to overwhelm you. How perfect his scent is.

“Mmm, I bet.” He says ambiguously.

“What is that supposed to mean.” It slips out of your mouth shyer than you intended.

He turns, locking eyes with you, “I think you know exactly what I mean by that.”

“I don’t.” You say, defiantly.

He moves carefully closer, “you don’t?”

It’s a challenge when it comes from his mouth, you can only shake your head.

He kisses the pulse point on your neck, just how he had under the mistletoe— except this time he takes the skin between his lips, giving it a harsh suck.

“Remind you at all?” He pulls away an inch, and the blood has rushed into your cheeks— so much so they felt like they were on fire.

You don’t say anything. You don’t know how. Your lips move, but nothing comes out.

“How about this…” he trails up to your parted lips, ghosting over them.

You were awake now. Your whole body pulsing with the thoughts of where his hands— and lips— could touch.

“Harry…” you whined, and the noise was enough to have him seeing stars.

He slid his hands down to the small of your back, tugging you as close as possible.

“I swear, you are unreal, Y/N.” He sighs into your cheek.

You push your lips back into his, and he parts them for you straight away.

You slip your tongue into his mouth, savouring the feeling of it. Allowing yourself to map it out with gradual strokes.

He’s panting already, and he pushes you back, both of you stumbling into the middle of his bed.

He ends up taking the lead again, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth— knowing the kind of reaction it spiked in you last time.

You moan into his mouth, and glide your hand into his soft hair, pulling at the roots.

His have found their way up your shirt, cupping your breasts through the bra you’re wearing.

“If you want to stop—“ he says, breathlessly, “now is the time, because I don’t know if I can do this again.”

The room around you falls quiet and you cautiously look to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?” You ask— little to no clue what he’s implying, a little panic rising in your chest.

He stares at you, serious, hands roaming down to your lower back.

“Kiss you like this, have you moaning like this— and not have you come because of me atleast twice.”

“Leaving you to fall asleep next to me— wet enough I could feel it through your sleep shorts, and not have anything done about it— is something I am not having happen again.” His words made you shiver, and his admission last night to how bad he wanted to make you finish on his face was ringing in your ears.

“What about Anne?”

“To hell with it.” He huffs, peeling his tshirt over his head, “She’ll be dead to the world at this hour— just try to keep quiet.”

“If this is what you want to do, anyway?” He clarifies, “And if y’wanna stop at anytime y’know y’can.”

“God, Harry you don’t understand how bad I want to feel you.” You affirm, pulling your own sweatshirt off, “I promise I’ll be quiet.”

“Thank you, darling. As much as I’d love to hear your pretty moans…” his sentence trails off, kissing the top of your breasts as he lays you down.

“Want your mouth on me.” You plead, the thought of it being enough to have you clenching around nothing.

“I’m sure you do, ‘specially after I put it in your head last night. Have you been thinking about it all day, hmm?” He teases, shifting down your body.

“Yea— yea I have.” You confess with a whine.

He raises his brows, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

“What about before? You ever got off to the thought of my tongue in your pussy?” He smirks, knowing he’s venturing into uncharted territory— admissions of want, prior to your first kiss.

“Your ego would love to hear a yes wouldn’t it.” You tease a little, even though it would be a lie to say you haven’t conjured up small fantasies of him late at night. Ones where he’s got more than just his head between your legs.

“Oh, it would. But I think I already know the answer, going off how hot and bothered I’m making you.”

Which is true, you’re squirming beneath him, unconsciously arching up your lower half trying to get any kind of friction.

“Can I take these off?” He asks with warm hands tucked into your waistband, waiting for your curt nod before he shucks your pants down, your panties half going with it.

The energy shifts, his hands coming to a halt.

Like the realisation of what he’s doing and who he’s touching like this has come crashing down, just from seeing your lower half laid bare for him.

Harry is your best friend, your bandmate. Someone who you never thought would actually have their hands on you like this.

“Fuck. Look at you.” The sight of you looking up at him like that, all doe-eyed and shy had his cock aching.

His hands slip back into motion, but this time with less urgency.

He pulls both your pants and underwear off your legs, tossing them somewhere on his floor.

He pushes a finger through your slit, “This why you’re so wet? Been waiting for me to get my mouth on you for longer than you admitted.”

“Please, Harry.”

You push your hips into his touch, groaning into the sheets of his bed as he draws slow circles on your clit.

He leans to press a kiss into the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want him most.

Licking a stripe along the same spot, you begin to plead, “Please just touch me. Need it…”

“My poor girl is so needy. Cant even wait a second for me to get my tongue on her.” He coos, but gives in either way, letting his tongue push through your wet slit.

You’re trying so hard to hold back the moans as he flicks and sucks your clit, but fuck is this the best oral you’ve ever had.

Most guys you’ve been with rush through it, wanting to get it over with because it does nothing to please them. But Harry is clearly a giver, and gets a lot out of pleasing someone like this.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me come so fast.” You cry, an arm getting thrown over your face as you arch into every movement he makes.

He smiles into you, moving his mouth to your entrance, pushing his tongue in a bit before dragging back up to you clit— his nose bumping it in just the right spot.

Another moan comes out of you, unbridled as your cunt flutters in sync with the licks he’s placing against you.

He swaps between your clit and entrance, making sure both are getting the attention they deserve. Fast firm strokes along you— paired with kisses and sucks — are having you come undone faster than you’d expected.

“Shhh, baby, been doing so well f’me, can feel how close you are.” He pushes a finger into you, and you have to bite down on your lip to try and keep yourself quiet.

Pushing in another finger, he grunts, “God, you’re tight.”

“Been awhile…” you spoke, voice wavering— it sounding distant in your own head.

He hummed into you, the vibration of it pulsing through the whole of your body.

Curse words were flying out your lips, which you were trying so hard to keep shut. But every lap of his tongue against you had your resolve to keep quiet slipping through your grasp.

“I’m going to come, H. Hard.” You moaned— it was tearing out of you loudly, and you tired to muffle it with the crook of your arm.

“You can come, darling, ‘round my fingers and mouth like a good girl.”

His permission and praise was all you needed to tip over the edge, your cunt spasming around his fingers that were still pumping in and out of you.

He licked through your slick until you couldn’t breathe, your legs closing around his head trying to get him off your sensitive nerves.

Your breath was laboured as he pulled back, placing a final kiss on your stomach before making his way back up your body.

“Thank you…” you tiredly said, laying with your eyes half-lidded on his bed. And although you felt like you could fall asleep, there was no way you could not let him fuck you properly after that.

You pushed yourself up, and moved onto his lap.

He watched you carefully, a question in his eyes.

That was answered as you ground your hips carefully into his, the fabric of his sweatpants sending a zip up your spine.

“We don’t have to, sweet. Not if your tired.” His hand fell to your hip.

But when his mouth is still glistening with your arousal and cock is so hard underneath you, how could you not?

“I know, Harry. I really want to though.” You sigh into his neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders as you rubbed yourself along his fabric-covered boner.

All of the little noises coming from the back of his throat were sounded into your ear, and knowing how good this must be making him feel charged you to keep going.

“That’s right. Rub yourself through it Y/N. Over my cock, dripping all onto my pants.” His tone was deep, dipped in honey as he spoke to you.

You moaned as he snapped his hips upwards to meet the movement of your own.

“I’m clean and on the pill.” You say into his ear, shuddering. You have never wanted anything more.

He pauses, realisation at what your insinuating.

“Are you a hundered percent sure? Because I trust that you’re clean. And so am I.”

You start moving your hips again, “a thousand percent.”

“Can just imagine how easy m’gonna slip into you.” He traces patterns along the base of your spine.

“Just want to make you feel good, H.” You kiss the warm skin of his neck, taking it into your lips and biting it gently.

“Fuck, well y’already doing a good job of that.”

Your hand travels to his waistband, and he allows you to pull him out of his boxers.

He’s thick in your hand, heavy just as you’d imagined. But it’s so much better than you’d thought. He’s warm and smooth, head of him as pink as his lips.

You stroke along it, thumb brushing over his tip, dragging the pre-come that had leaked out down his shaft, indulging in his grunts that are sounding in your ear.

You shift up on your knees— unable to wait any longer, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds with a mutual gasp.

You rub a few circles on your clit with it, until your knees feel like they’re going to buckle. Which no better a time to line him up with your entrance.

“God— are you going to ride me?” He moans, holding you still with his hands for a moment.

“Is that ok?”

“That is so fucking hot.” He states, eyes pinching closed.

You sink yourself into him, feeling the stretch of your cunt as it tries to accomodate his large size.

You scrape your nails down his back as you get to the base of him, moaning in sync with one another.

“Oh my god.” His stomach muscles are clenching, “don’t move.”

The walls of his room seem to be spinning around him, and he inhales a deep breath in attempt to ground himself.

His hands rest on the peak of your hips, as he shudders out the same breath he just took in, “Sorry— you’re just so fuckin’ warm and tight.”

“You’re huge.” You whimper in response.

“Taking it so well. Knew you would, knew you’d be so snug around my cock. Always wanted to have you moan like this for me.” The words spill like a lust-drunk confession from his mouth.

You can’t even find anything to say back, just a passionate kiss over his lips.

“Can move now.” He says into your mouth.

Your hips gradually begin to move, starting with slow and precise rolls that have you both panting against each other.

His cock twitched inside you as you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on him— your fingers finding their way down to your clit.

All you could feel was the hot burning pleasure in the pit of your stomach, and so much was coming from your mouth but you couldn’t even tell what it was. Just a mixture of swearing, moans and his name.

“Shh, sweet girl— fuck— know it feels so good but you have to stay quiet.” He cups your jaw, sealing your lips with another kiss.

The heat radiating off both of your bodies was searing, paired with the fiery pleasure in your stomachs, it could fight off even the coldest of December days.

His other hand replaced your own, and worked your clit better than you ever could. His long fingers swirling your bud in fast circles that matched your every bounce.

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, desperately trying to hush his own groans. It was a sight to see him, his flushed face and messy brown curls— how he was trying just as hard to hold back.

“You’re so warm. Riding me so well.” He praises you with a grunt, stroking your clit with more pressure. You couldn’t even manage to respond, your thoughts were beyond muddled, and they only got worse as he increased the speed of his fingers.

The feeling of his cock sliding through your walls had your jaw fall completely lax, your hot breath fanning across his damp skin.

His only free hand travelled to your breast, kneading the warm flesh there, tweaking your nipple with gentle fingers.

“Oh god, oh god— Harry!” Every touch was clashing together into one euphoric feeling, your whole body shaking.

Your muscles were clenched taut, like a rubber band getting pulled tighter and tighter— and you were about to snap.

“Fuck, come around my cock— wanna feel it.”

His hips are bucking up to meet your bounces, he’s hitting every spot inside you.

“Harry— I’m going to— I’m gonna come.” You cried into his shoulder.

Praise is pouring from his mouth, and all it takes is a final flick of your clit too have you knocked of all your air.

Your jaw drops, teeth hitting Harry’s sharp collarbone, mantras of his name coming breathlessly from your mouth.

“God you’re perfect— squeezing so perfectly around me.” He moans, still playing with your clit.

“Please come, baby. Want you to fill me up.” You plead— tugging the roots of his hair, trying to keep up the pace of your bounces despite the blinding pleasure.

“Fuckk.” He comes within seconds of hearing you beg for it, his hips stuttering to meet your thrusts— his abdomen flexing under your fingers.

You ride him to the point your eyes are tearing up with the overstimulation, ensuring you get every drop of warm come you can from him.

Eventually you come to a halt at the base of him, now that both your orgasms have dulled out and he’s softening inside you.

You kiss his temple, hands coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

“You were so good for me, love.” He whispers.

You slip out of him, missing how he filled you up immediately. He rolled you both over before you could think about it too much, and your legs wrapping around his middle.

You looked down at the moth tattoo situated between your legs, and boldly you state, “I’d ride this too if I wasn’t so tired.”

His brows shoot up as you say that, your fingers beginning to outline the tattoo gingerly.

“You’re gonna give me another boner if you keep this up.” His voice falling a tone deeper.

A laugh sounds from you, and you cuddle up into his chest, “Sorry, but not really.” You say.

He plays with your hair, “Asshole.”

Your falling into a drowsy state, “Are you plaiting my hair?”

He hums a yes, “d’ya have a hair tie for it?”

“On my wrist.” You huff out a laugh, and you pull your hand from around his neck so he can pull it off.

He ties it, and kisses your forehead.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispers, seeing your shut eyes.

“Goodnight Harry.” You whisper back, pausing for a few seconds— then daring to say what’s been lingering on the tip of your tongue all night.

“I love you.” It’s a hush confession, one your too tied to care if you’re gonna regret it.

He looks down at you, through his own half-lidded eyes, “fuck, I love you too. So much.”

———

[madisonmccoy]

Teo Tomczuk tells us about the next season of Rykter!

https://730.no/forteller-om-neste-sesong-teo-tomczuk/%5C~%5D

SOMMERFJAS with Teo Tomczuk

By Tayiba Haji

3 July 2024 at 15:47

Teo Tomczuk sits down with SOMMERFJAS 😎 🎵 ☀️

-

(y’all this one needed a lot of cultural context to understand properly so you can see my personal explanations/rambling below in red lol)

“Fellesferien” has officially started (this is also known as general staff vacation in English, a practice where all employees at a workplace have time off at the same time, and in Nordic countries this typically takes place during warmer months like August). And while some people turn their sights towards the South (warmer/more southern countries in Europe), others are settling in well at their Norwegian cabins.

The next man out for our Summer column is Teo Tomczuk (born in 2006).

You may know him as Mathias from the NRK series “Rykter”, but in his spare time Teo is also very involved in music.

[730.no](http://730.no) had a chat with the Bergen native about his summer favorites. As well as what we can expect from the highly anticipated third season of “Rykter”.

Hi Teo! Do you have any exciting plans for the summer?

“I am going to play some concerts in Poland, and travel around Poland a bit. And I am going on vacation to Croatia with my best friend! It's a bit funny because all the “russegruppene” in all of Norway are going there exactly when we are going there." 

(Russegruppene, or Russ groups, describe groups of students in their final semester of high school that celebrate the tradition of Russefeiring, or russ for short. This happens over a period of several weeks leading up to summer, and it is basically a continuous party commonly linked to drunkenness & public disturbances. It's also a tradition for the students to wear special overalls for the event, usually red or blue. Many groups choose to rent or buy party buses to drive around during this time. This tradition is unique to Norway and is an interesting read for those unfamiliar with it!)

Lovely! What kind of style do you go for in the summer then?

“I wear a lot of black clothes even though it's summer.”

What does the perfect summer day look like for you?

“A cabin trip combined with a fishing trip! And making music in the evening.

What movie/series did you last watch? And what roll of the dice do you give it?

“I saw The Fall Guy in the movie theater, it was very well made. The entire production. Dice roll 6!” (The roll of the dice is a Norwegian rating system for media, with 1 being the worst and 6 being the best)

Speaking of cool productions: Has the third season of “Rykter” been recorded?

“The third and fourth seasons have actually been recorded!”

Wow, so cool! What can we expect from the new season?

“You can expect a lot of love, broken hearts. Many try lots of new things and find out who they are. Mostly they get to know themselves. There will be a lot of identity stuff!”

Do you have any tips on what someone could do on a rainy day?

“I live in Bergen, so I'm used to that. The fish bite more when it rains. And make music of course.”

Do you have a favorite restaurant that you just have to visit in the summer?

“Mammas Kjøkken!” (Mom’s Kitchen)

How are you at parties?

“I'm the one who tries to put on 70s rock, haha! I’m really not the biggest party type then.”

What can we expect from you on the music front?

“I try to find my own sound. I developed a new style of pop rock that I think people can vibe with. There will be more international music, a bit of everything.”

What is this summer's vorspiel (pre-game) anthem?

"Immigrant Song - Led Zeppelin”

What is this summer's nachspiel (afterparty) anthem?

"The End - The Doors”

(Vorspiel and nachspiel are German words that are used in Scandinavian countries to mean pre and after party)

What song is best to dance to?

“Lonely Boy by The Black Keys.”

What is your darkest party memory?

“I broke a tooth once haha!”

Huh?

“Yeah, it was crazy. I was going to open a bottle. Fortunately, it went fine in the end.”

Luckily! Do you have any good tips for the day after a party?

“In Poland we have a soup that grandmas and moms have often made over the years. It's damn good the next day. And just drink lots of water before and after.”

What do you spend the most money on in the summer?

“Probably beer!”

Who would you most like to meet this summer, and why?

“The best thing would be to meet my role models.”

And who are they?

“Many of them have died, but of the ones who are alive: Alex Turner and Ozzy Osbourne.”

(ALEX TURNER MENTION !!!)

Have you ever had a summer fling? Or is there anyone who counts as one this year?

“Not this year, but I've had ones in the past. It's best during the summer, that’s really when it’s the nicest.”

Can you send us some random photos from your camera roll this summer?

Thank you so much and have a happy summer, Teo!

“Likewise!”

[hello-nichya-here]

The dude who tried (and sometimes succeeded) in trying to win over women that were married/about to be married not once, not twice, but FIVE FUCKING TIMES!

I'm sorry but TED DID WHAT?!

Yup, you read it right. Ted Mosby, the guy that the writers were constantly trying to push as the perfect, most romantic lead in the whole world, apparently has a very serious homewrecking kink.

The first time was in season one, with Ted going to a matchmaker, and finding out that the only woman he'd be a good match with already went out with a guy that was slightly less ideal (according to the computer) and is engaged to him. Ted then finds out she's a doctor, goes to her place of work, and tries to convince her he is her soulmate, not her fiance - who she'll be marrying VERY soon.

Ted doesn't know this woman. Literally the only information he has is "She went on a matchmaker and her profile was a lot like his." That's it. That is all the excuse he needs to try to sabotage someone's wedding. This is also one of the few times in which we are supposed to be laughing at him, instead of wanting him to get the girl. Well, I think that was the intention, but God knows I stopped expecting common sense from this show a LONG time ago.

The second time homewrecking Ted is seen is during season 3. He decides to "live like Barney" (because OBVIOUSLY Ted would neeeever decide to do something like this on his own, please ignore the previous exemple, and the next three) and hooks up with a married woman during a party, and feels exactly zero shame or guilt over it until Marshall talks some sense into him. This is the LAST time in which we'll see that kind of behavior from Ted be treated as explicitly wrong by the show - even though his actions will only get worse.

Homewrecking Ted comes back in season 6, when he falls for Zoey, a married woman. A married woman he is constantly spending time with even though EVERYONE is warning him that this isn't going to end well as they all can see that what they have isn't just friendship. All except Zoey's husband, who thinks Ted is a great guy - in fact, when Zoey leaves him, the poor guy comes to the bastard for comfort, because he thought Ted was his friend.

Ted is 100% in the wrong, but the show thinks that his search for "The One" justifies everything plus they technically didn't become an item before Zoey made up her mind about who she wanted, so it's totally okay that she left her husband for him - after all, she could have maybe possibly been the woman of Ted's dreams, so who cares if she was the love of someone else's, her husband's, life.

The fourth time is at the end of season seven, when he falls back in love with his ex, Victoria, even though she will be getting married soon. The two of them almost hook up, but decide against it... for a little while. On the wedding day, Victoria wants to leave her fiance at the altar, and Ted is tempted to be with her, but he decides to do the right thing and take her to the church where the wedding will happen... and then changes his mind while driving, because once again, who cares about the other completely innocent dude when Ted needs to find "The One" - he is the ONLY person who deserves someone who loves him, right?

The show tries to remedy that by having Ted demand Victoria leave her would-be-husband a letter explaining why she wouldn't marry him because that's what Stella did with him. Guess what? That doesn't mean shit, he's still doing something horrible. A "I stole your future wife, man, sorry. But I made her write you a letter" doesn't fix a goddamn thing.

Oh, but the groom left too! Because turns out Victoria was NOT the right woman for him! That totally excuses Ted's behavior right? OF COURSE NOT! He didn't even know that when he decided to be with Victoria. As far as he knew, that dude was going to be left utterly heartbroken in the exact same way he himself once was - and he still thought he was justified in what he was doing.

And now we reach the big one. Season 8. Ted and Victory break up because, this whole time, during the years in which Ted has been pulling this kind of bullshit, he was actually NOT thinking that the doctor, or Zoey, or Victoria were "The One", as his true love was Robin all along, and SHE is the one he knew he'd always come back to - THEN WHY THE FUCK DID HE TRY, AND SOMETIMES SUCCEED, IN RUINING OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES?

And how does he handle the fact that the supposed love of his life is actually not interested in him, wants to marry someone else, and that someone else happens to be a friend of his that has REPEATEDLY asked Ted for his blessing to pursue Robin?

Well, you see, he sulks about how Robin should leave Barney for him. Because, you know, he loves her more, saw her first, dated her first, is the better man, found a locket she had buried years ago, dramaticly held her hand while it was raining and whatever excuse the writers can come up with to pretend Ted is only trying to sabotage his friend's wedding because "It's true love!" and not at all because he is a selfish, entitled asshole who has a habit of doing that.

In fact, on the morning of her wedding, Ted STILL wants to profess his supposed love for Robin, only to get shut down again AS SHE OBVIOUSLY MADE HER CHOICE VERY CLEAR A LONG TIME AGO.

Oh, but the writers want more drama and have her suddenly get cold feet and ask Ted why shouldn't she be with the guy who loves her so much. And what does Ted, the guy who has been sulking about losing her for months and stabbed Barney in the back by telling his bride he loves her and wants her to give him another chance, say as a response?

"The truth is I don't love you like that anymore. And you don't love me, you love Barney"

Yeah, we know that, asshole. We've known that for a while. And apparently so did you this entire time, YET YOU STILL TRIED TO STEAL HER FROM BARNEY MERE HOURS AGO! WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS?

Simple: because Ted is in love with the idea of love, and will project romantic feelings onto anything that breathes and has a pulse, and will go to absurd lengths to win over the (temporary) object of his affection, even if it means destroying people's lives - and in fact, that drastic consequence often doesn't even register as a factor in his mind.

And what do the writers of How I Met Your Mother do with this obvious character flaw? They use it to claim Ted is a true romantic, a SYMPATHETIC lead, the nicest of all nice guys, and eventually reward him by letting him have BOTH the actual perfect woman for him (Tracy) and also the woman that could not have been more wrong for him, yet that he was obsessed with for TWENTY FIVE YEARS, aka Robin.

Fuck this show.

[episodeoftv]

Round 1 of 6, Group 1 of 4

Propaganda is under the cut (671 words) - may contain spoilers

summaries (pulled from imdb or wikis)

propaganda

Chén Qíng Lìng/The Untamed - 1.50 Episode 50

The mastermind who plans everything has appeared. He's not someone who wouldn't think he would be the one who is behind everything, including Wei Wuxian's comeback. Who would that be?

I nominate this final on grounds of CCP information control, censorship and homophobia. They were so scared of the power of wangxian that they ended up banning ao3 in china and in the show they have to inexplicably have them part ways just to hammer home the no-homo. Plus the show is just kind of objectively bad.... but it rewires your brain all the same

Supernatural - 15.20 Carry On

cw: suicide

After Chuck is defeated and someone takes his place, Sam and Dean go about their life of hunting, but things don't turn out as expected.

1) you know why 2) god. where do i fucking start. this episode completely ignores this large cast of characters that were considered family in order to make it the "just two brothers" show again, scrapping basically every shred of character development shown throughout the course of the show, cutting out incredibly important characters at the last second (i.e. eileen being replaced with blurry wife for no fucking reason, cas not being there at all despite the whole love confession/ dying for dean that happened just two episodes before). in the penultimate episode the boys fight god. the finale? a random vampire from an episode of season one, who up until this point had never been mentioned again. then we have Dean being impaled on a very phallic looking spike and, after a speech about it just being about the brothers, dies. he then goes to heaven, where his father figure tells him his abusive dad is just down the road. he hops in his car (also in heaven, somehow) and drives for the next 60 odd years waiting for Sam to die. meanwhile, sam is moving on with blurry wife and i shown with a son named dean (as seen stitched onto his clothes), and we eventually see sam, now old and clad in the crustiest looking wig i have ever seen, die in the hospital. he goes to heaven, meets Dean on a bridge, and the last shot is the entire cast and crew on the bridge saying goodbye, completely shattering the fourth wall because fuck it, who cares anymore. and this isn't even mentioning everything that happened after. just an absolute mess the whole way through. 3) Random villain from season 1 kills one of the main characters, he goes to heaven and drives around while the other main character gets a montage of growing old a horrible wig. And that's not even all. 4) It abandoned 15 years of series theme and character growth, veered away from the natural story line and failed to resolve major plot threads. Dean deserved better, and so did Cas. See also Jared's terrible wig, Dean jr, Dean driving through heaven for five minutes... 5) Dean dies in the most anticlimactic way, cheap wig, blurry wife 6) There was no Castel :( 7) I mean... 8) destroyed every character arc in one fell swoop. the guy who tried to kill himself and struggled with depression throughout the show ended up killing himself anyway! was cas’s death even important? who was blurry wife? why was the absolute ugliest toddler imaginable cast to play Sam’s son? but in order to truly grasp how decimating this finale was, you have to understand the queerbaiting between 15.18 and the finale. why did Misha post that pic in the onion field with Uriel. why was Misha originally credited to be in 19 episodes of the final season on IMDb. why was . Hrrgghh. 9) Do I even need to write propaganda for this one? Even though it was the series finale we are still here after 3 years 😂 Title said 'carry on', but the fandom said 'nah, time for season 16'. 10) Bad old man makeup and no castiel 11) Everything had been neatly wrapped up in the previous episode. Then they decided "Hey you know what would be great? If we just killed one of the main characters." They killed him for no reason. He deserved to live a full life, have a family, retire, but nope! He met his match in a RUSTY NAIL. Not to mention that there were terrible wigs, blurry wives, and subtextual incest vibes involved.

+ After it aired, one of the actors unfollowed everyone who had anything to do with the episode.

[fateinthestars]

COMPLETED: The Star Crossed Myth Mansion in Sims 4

Way back in November last year I finished building the Star Crossed Myth Mansion in Sims 3 with aid of @star-crossed-mid 's blueprint post

NOW: I have also finished building the mansion in Sims 4 for those of you who want it for that game as well/instead!

DOWNLOAD LINK

(I used Sims 4 Tray Importer to save the file. I don't know whether you need that to add it back into the game, but details here just in case. Please tell me if this doesn't work!)

A few notes before I get to the tour and comparisons between the Sims 4 house and the in-game mansion:

Uses items from the following expansion packs: Discover University, Island Living, Get Famous, Seasons, Cats & Dogs, City Living, Get Together, Get to Work, Dine Out, My First Pet Stuff, Romantic Garden Stuff. (Note: The cushions in Aigo's room are from the current login rewards event thing)

The sims 3 version of the mansion was rather tight at the back so this time I made sure to make it have a slightly larger footprint so that the dining room should now be walk aroundable by the sims. The slight changes I made to the shape of the house also meant I was able to make Tauxolouve's bedroom less cramped.

The Sims 3 version of the mansion was on five floors, with just Hue's room on the fifth - unfortunately Sims 4 only supports four floors above ground so I've had to take some creative liberties with where Hue's room is (It's attached to the end corner of the fourth floor rather than being in the roof).

That said: Sims 4 allows for two basements, so instead of a really cramped reflecting pool room behind the main staircase, that is now a large basement area.

Some items were placed where they are with the bb.moveobjects on cheat so if anything chucks itself in the family inventory when you first place the house, please turn that on and use the screenshots below to put them back into place. (It shouldn't do this but if you decide to change part of the build, it might).

Hopefully that's covered everything. 😅 Oh! And I actually did part of the garden area this time!

Tour and comparisons between the Sims 4 House and the Mansion in-game under the cut. (So loads of images in this post)

And if you're asking will I also make the Gods to go with the house? The answer to that is the same as for Sims 3: I still hope so.

The Outside of the Mansion

Garden Gazebo

Basement

Reflecting Pool Room

Ground (First) Floor

Living Room/Parlour

Stairway/Halls

Leon's Room

The Baths

There wasn't really anything of the style of this statue to put in the middle - though if you've unlocked the Artist Career awards (I think it's for level 9?) the dancing lady statue thing could maybe go on the plinth if you want.

First (Second) Floor

Scorpio's Room

Ichthys' Room

As per the Sims 3 house some creative liberties had to be taken here - though I think maybe this one works better? (Thanks again to @pwamisaurus for some suggestions)

Krioff's Room

Partheno's Room

Tauxolouve's Room

I'm way too ludicrously happy about how this one turned out in Sims 4 😅

Second (Third) Floor

Dui's Room

Zyglavis' Room

Kitchen

I've only seen the kitchen mentioned in some of the special stories and no picture so far. If it comes up I'll change it but I seem to recall Teo saying 'is that that weird room with all the gadgets?' so I'm taking it it is at least an advanced Kitchen.

Toilet

No idea whether there is actually one of not. But yeah just basics here so you can play a game of the sims properly if you wish.

Third (Fourth) Floor

Aigonorus' Room

Teorus' Room

Unlike the Sims 3 one I actually put the lighting on the wall in this one!

Karno's Room

Dining Room

Balcony

The balcony in this one should hopefully be a better size, and yes I sort of attempted the canopy thing this time.

Huedhaut's Room

As I said this isn't really in the right place, but it's a constraint of Sims 4 amount of floors. Hopefully it works where positioned here and hey - glass roof like it's supposed to have! (I've also just realised I didn't search for any jugs but those can be placed if you like - hardest part here was the bookcases, and yes this is one of the rooms that the moveobjects cheat was used for)

[ardentcastle]

Fic List

Hello. I write Polin fanfic. Here's links to some stuff.

WIP(s)

Returning To You:

It's a regular Friday for Colin Bridgerton. When a knock at his door changes everything. ‘My name is Agatha Featherington. I have reason to believe you are my father.’

Complete - Multi Chapter

please, burn my world down

Colin chuckled. ‘Please. I could have you screaming my name in minutes.’ ‘Prove it then.’ Nope. She hadn’t meant to say that part out loud. Not at all. — — Penelope and Colin used to be friends. Now they can barely exist in the same room without starting an argument. What was supposed to be a relaxing girls trip at Aubrey Hall quickly turned into something else for Penelope.

Waking Up In Vegas

'Eloise, tell me. Please,' she begged. She needed to know, what could possibly have her friend so worried about her, and Colin looking like he was about to pass out. What happened? Eloise sighed. 'You really don't remember marrying Colin last night?' 'Excuse me, what?' ———— The fic where they get drunk and marry in Vegas.

Between Us

The first time was an accident, it just… happened. The second time was testing the waters, was the first a fluke or not? Neither of them have a real excuse for the third, and the fourth, well, by the fourth time they’d finally started to sort their shit out. OR Three times Colin and Penelope got drunk and had sex and a fourth where they were completely sober.

Breakable Heaven

It was messed up. She knew it was. But from the day it had started she hadn't been strong enough to put an end to it. She was never going to have Colin Bridgerton. Not really. He was too… and so… and she was… Just Penelope. Dorky friend of the younger sister. So if she couldn’t have him in the way she wanted, she would take any piece she could get.

--- Colin and Penelope have fallen into a messy and complicated friends with benefits situation, that only gets even moreso when Penelope has another man showing interest and she and Colin are thrown into forced proximity.

One Shots

Ruining Lady Whistledown

‘I do not understand, how it is I can be furious with you. So angry at what you have done, and yet, desire you as much as I do,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t. I wish I could turn away from you. Forget what it was like to taste you, to feel you, to have you. I cannot.’ Season 3, Episode 8 - Colin didn’t leave the bedroom after going in to get the blanket. //Pt 2 - Penelope writes a Whistledown column for Colin's eyes only

Go Through The Motions

I could coach you.' 'What?' her head snapped up to his, her eyes wide with surprise. 'I could… I mean, I could show you a few different ways so that you don't feel so out of your depth,' 'You want to show me different sex positions?' her voice was disbelieving. 'Yes,' Polin Week Day 2 Prompt: Lessons - Colin offers to help out his friend when she’s nervous for an upcoming date.

wasn't for you

Penelope: Oh my god it's been so long since I've been laid. I just want to get totally dicked, you know? Completely meaningless sex where I'm absolutely pounded until I forget my own name. Colin: ??? Penelope: Oh my god. Colin: You want to forget your name? Penelope: that text wasn't for you Penelope accidentally sends a text message, meant for the girls chat to Colin instead and things get… interesting for them.

Twelve Years of Christmas

If there’s one thing Penelope and Colin will do, no matter where they are, who they’re with, or what has happened between them, it is message each other on Christmas Day. Text messages from twelve Christmas days over the years as they grow up.

The Road Not Taken (looks real good now)

It’s that time of year. When the tether she has to this small town pulls her back. It doesn’t matter where she is on this planet. She ends up back here. For five days she will imagine what her life might have been like if she never left. Based loosely on Taylor Swift’s ‘tis the damn season

Of Snowball Fights and Discovering Delights

Penelope is spending Christmas at Aubrey Hall this year. An annual Bridgerton snowball fight accidentally leads to a lot more than she ever hoped. --------- 'I've never kissed anyone. I might be bad at it.' 'I think that would be impossible.'

The Holiday Party

Quickly Penelope pressed play on the music video and it started, and with the more she watched, the more the heat in her rose and rose. He was singing about her. Normally she wouldn’t be so presumptuous. She wouldn’t assume. But right now, as the video played out how they met, there was no doubt at all. Colin Bridgerton wrote a song about her. Colin Bridgerton is a superstar. Penelope works a standard 9 to 5 and lives a quiet life. When Colin is performing at her work Christmas party, she captures his eye. And there is no turning back for either of them from there. No matter how hard Penelope tries to resist, and convince herself it couldn't possibly be happening.

Under Me

'Hey, you tried to call me?' he said. 'I tried to…' she trailed off. Oh fuck. In a sudden flash what she'd done came back to her. She had completely forgotten, most of the night was a drunken haze. The voicemail she'd left. The things she'd said. _______ In which Pen leaves Colin a revealing voicemail and can't take it back

Look At Your Face

Colin starts loosing his mind, when on the Bridgerton's annual summer holiday Penelope is comfortable talking to everyone, except him. Any time he tries she suddenly needs to be somewhere else (she's had a laugh with Anthony of all people! But won't so much as look Colin's way) and he's going insane trying to work out why she's ignoring him. There's a game of never have I ever that reveals a lot, and eventually Colin finds the nerve to confront her about her silence towards him. Loosely inspired by Taylor Swift's Gorgeous and in particular 'I can't say anything to your face, cause look at your face'.

Inescapable

The ton is at Aubrey Hall for a Bridgerton Ball. Colin finds Penelope in his room -- 'Pen? Why are you in my room?' He asked. She appeared to be frozen to the spot. Her mouth slightly open, and a flush that started on her cheeks spread down towards her chest. Colin brought his eyes back up to hers the moment he realised he was a bit too transfixed on what her hands couldn't hide from him. 'I was told I would be retiring here.' She finally said, her voice was soft, shaky. 'You must be mistaken.' Colin said.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

could I get afic about little Viktor being scared of Allison after their arguement in season 3 and not wanting to be around her and her having to make it up to him :((

Bittersweet :)

-----

Word Count: 1126

Summery: Viktor asks to be small with Allison one more time before the end of the world.

-----

Allison twirled a loose thread on her shirt between her fingers. Back and fourth, back and fourth. She kept her eyes locked firmly on the string like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Like the universe as they knew it wasn’t ending just outside their walls, and like Viktor wasn’t sitting silently across from her, trying to ignore her too.

Their fight had ruined everything they had worked to rebuild over the past… she’d lost track of how long by now. Every heartfelt conversation, comforting hug, shared laugh, and maybe worst of all, the rare trust that Viktor had put in her to look after him, all crushed in five minutes. She had seen Viktor regressed since the argument, trailing after one of their siblings or tucked away somewhere he wasn’t expecting to be found, but only barely. It was obvious that he was trying to avoid her at all costs when he was regressed, and that stung more than any of the insults or cold glares they’d been exchanging. Because he wasn’t coming to her anymore, and she knew exactly why. He didn’t feel safe with her anymore. The look of pure, unfiltered fear in his eyes on the few times she did come face to face with him while regressed was physically painful. It made her feel nauseous. 

Their bond had been something special. It allowed Viktor to get back his childhood, a chance the rest of them would probably never get, and have the parental love she knew he craved. And selfishly, taking care of him gave her back her motherhood, a feeling she missed so, so deeply. Pushing Viktor away ripped out a piece of her heart, and the hole ached more and more every hour as the end grew closer. She was never going to see her daughter again, and now it was her fault that she would never get to be a mother again. God, she was a terrible person.

“Allison?”

Viktor’s eyes were downcast, his expression soft, and staring holes into the arm of his chair.

“Mhm?” Part of her wanted to break down right on the spot, because the ‘apathetic bitch’ act was agony to keep up and Viktor was talking to her again, but that could scare him off or even make him angry, so she just had to act ‘normal’. Even if the new ‘normal’ hurt like hell.

Viktor was silent for a long moment. His fingers occasionally twitched as he absently toyed with them, a little subconscious fidget that he did when he wasn’t entirely present. Eventually his eyes gained focus and he turned to look at her. “…I don’t wanna die.” He croaked.

And Allison didn’t really know what to say to that. “I don’t think any of us want to. But…” She spared a split-second glance out the window where the carnage had crept a little closer since she last checked. She kept promising herself she wouldn’t look, but she found herself looking anyway. Guestimating how much time they had left.

Viktor shook his head slowly. “I don’t wanna die like this.” He motioned between the two of them. “Hating each other. Angry. Whatever. I don’t wanna hate you.”

Allison tried to squash down the hopeful feeling in her chest and forced herself to listen patiently. 

“I don’t forgive you.” He continued. “I can’t. You killed Harlan, you were horrible to me and I hate what you did, but I… If this is it, then I… I don’t wanna be afraid of you.” He trailed off, and Allison knew exactly what he was talking about. At least, she hoped she did.

Viktor swallowed and took a breath. “Could I be little with you? One more time?”

A wave of relief washed over her. “Of course…” She smiled softly and patted the couch beside her. Viktor came over and sat down. He looked uncomfortable. “Can I hug you, baby?”

He hesitantly nodded, and leaned into her arms, tucking his head against her shoulder. He didn’t hug back, but that was okay. Allison was content just to be able to hold him close again.

“I’m so sorry, baby. For everything, okay? You don’t have to forgive me.” She rubbed a hand up and down his back. “Mama’s gonna try to make it up to you, because you deserved so much better… You deserve better. And you let me know if you want me to give you space after all, okay? I won’t be upset.” 

Viktor nodded, and slowly brought up his hands to clutch at the fabric of her shirt. After that, the sniffling started. Allison shushed him gently, rocking him back and fourth and holding him like he was the most delicate thing in the world. “Shh, shh… It’s okay, baby. I know, I’m so sorry…”

She let him crying himself out on her shoulder, whispering as many comforting sweet nothings she could think of, until his breathing evened into shaky but deep breaths. “How old are we, sweetheart?”

Viktor thought for a moment, then tapped her arm one, two, three, four times.

“Four? That’s so big!” She cooed, “What do you want to do, sweet boy? Cuddle? Or maybe get a snack, hm?”

“Mm… snack, p’ease.”

“Okay, let’s go see what we can find. C’mon.” She took his hand and they walked to the kitchen. 

The hotel kitchen was large and impersonal. It was missing the familiar feeling of their weird basement kitchen back home, sneaking strange little sandwich combinations behind their father’s back and breakfast with Mom, and it probably didn’t have many child-friendly snacks, but Allison would make do. They went into the pantry and began looking around for something fun. Pasta, spices, soup…

“Mama, look!” Viktor said, holding up a package of microwave popcorn, “Can we have this?”

“Sure, baby.”

In two minutes the popcorn was ready. Allison dumped the bag into a large metal bowl and they returned to the couch, huddled close. The internet had stopped working days ago, but Allison still had a few movies downloaded to her phone, so she put on grainy, low-quality Finding Nemo while they ate. As the movie played, she kept glancing over at Viktor, soaking up as much of this time as she could get. Viktor’s face was calm and content as he munched on handfuls of popcorn, highlighted delicately by the white daylight coming in through the windows that she could see little speckles of dust on his eyelashes. His sweater was soft, his breathing was slow and steady, and his body lay relaxed snuggled against hers. It was… perfect. Hurtling towards certain doom with no escape, Allison found herself in one more moment of perfect peace, one more perfect day with her brother, and her baby.