#Through The Heart Is The Only Way

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Eleven. "Trying To Get Settled."

I know a bit late today but here is today's addition to Multi-May! The long awaited update to Through The Heart Is The Only Way! Sorry for the eight fucking month long hiatus, but we are back! Hopefully updates will be more frequent from here on out! Series Masterlist is here. Hope you all enjoy this and find it worth the wait! Also partly inspired by me going to my first gay club last summer.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 4K. Charles Lee Ray/Tiffany Ray Valentine/FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Stressed And Anxious Reader. Drinking. Softness. Making Out. Fingering. Implied Threesome.

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The rest of the shift goes by in a blur. Rachel stays behind after close, you and your coworkers sit, huddled around a table, all the other ones already wiped down, chairs upside down on top of them, hushed tones as you try to comfort her. Logan makes drinks, the lights are low as you all talk it over, trying to make her feel better. By night's end she looks less shaken, you and Jackson walk to the train station, hand in hand. 

You hold his hand very tightly, fingers interlaced, you wonder if your grip makes his knuckles ache. You walk with him and the air feels a bit tense. Jackson and you talk about anything and just about everything, filling the spaces with whatever else mundane shit that you can. When finally on the train platform, a moment of silence has overtaken. You are the one to break it. You ask quietly into the cold, breath fogging in front of your face, “Why am I so scared right now?”

Jackson’s head turns, so does yours, he looks down as you look up and concern has painted his features, his mouth opens and then closes. He seriously considers what to say before responding, “Because it’s normal. It’s really normal to be scared by this kinda thing, Rach was…She was freaking out, and we care about her, so we are freaked out too.”

You know it’s more than that, you are sure Jackson knows it is more than that, too. You remember a conversation you had with him over a year ago where he confessed to you his own story similar to the one you had about Trent.

It was winter back then too, it was cold, you and he were having a drink post work, crowded around a table, hoping the snow died down a bit before leaving as he filled you in. Jackson told you about some guy who came onto him and then, asshole that he was, got violent with him after, making claims that he “wasn’t really like that” and blaming it all on him, that Jackson was asking for it on and on. You held his hand and listened intently over half drunk cocktails and didn’t judge him, handing over a napkin for him to wipe his eyes. 

It was totally unfair bullshit. 

What happened with Rachel is another fucking reminder that this job is a touch more dangerous than you’d like. It reminds you that there are total fucking jerks at every turn, whether it be customers who treat you like shit and less than human, or even some of the good ones could be at the mercy of similarly terrible treatment. You love your job most of the time, but it is exhausting on nights like this.

You rest your head on Jackson’s shoulder, and he says as he leans his head on yours, “She is going to be okay. I am going to be okay, and so are you.” 

Your mind wanders to them, thoughts flood your brain of your newly minted boyfriend and girlfriend. You worry. What if something were to happen to them? What would you do? Your heart is beating out of your chest and your palms are sweaty, you are thankful for the gloves you wore, that Jackson couldn’t feel how slick your hands were and feel in turn your massive anxiety. Christ you are being crazy you just started dating them, you need to reel in your emotions right now, this is an outlier of a situation, this is fine, you are fine. You shake off the bad thoughts and look back up at him, a quick glance as you make the decision to try and believe him, you say, “Yeah you’re probably right. Thanks.”

Jackson smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

You stand in heavy silence once more, both your eyes and his staring forward until the train comes. When it does arrive you part from Jackson reluctantly, waves and promises to see each other the next day at work again. The ride feels too long, when you come to your stop you race home and once there you have trouble sleeping, when you eventually attempt to. 

Tossing and turning, sleep claims you after quite some time. 

Over the course of the next few days, you slowly start to calm down, but you are still on edge, the knowledge of what happened to Randall poking at the back of your mind, reminders cropping up at inopportune moments and giving you small setbacks. You should be over this, it’s been a long time, why is this sticking with you so badly?

There was no news.

You’d see Rachel at work and meet her eyes and she’d know what you were going to ask, she’d shake her head and your look would turn from pleading to know what she did, to instead sympathetic as your stomach turned and heart ached for her. 

It’s late, it’s after work on a different day, you need some serious stress relief, Jackson had the day off and so you didn’t have accompaniment to the train station, too alone with your thoughts at the moment. You can’t keep feeling like this, you can’t keep hiding, so you make the decision to do something for yourself, try to feel a bit better. 

You go to your favourite rink. 

Winter is slowly on the way out, the extreme storm is beginning to thaw, this will probably be your last skate of the season. The rink is closed this late, you weren’t planning on this and don’t have your skates, so you snagged a pair that other people would pay to rent, no one was around, not like you’d get caught. You find your size easily under the open air renting counter, and soon you are at a bench, boots off and lacing the skates up. 

Your bag is left near the bench, and you make your way out onto the ice. You start to skate, gliding on the ice easily, it’s quiet, cloudy but not snowing, it’s very still and the only sound is metal on frozen water and your breath. Mind turns to them as you turn on the ice, the last time you were here was on your date, you smile, lips turning up as you recall how shitty Chucky was at skating, how he had to cling to you and Tiff to stay upright. You wonder if you will still be together to do that again next winter, maybe you can teach your new boyfriend a thing or two. 

You pick up the pace, skating faster, sharper turns, you enjoy the speed, the wind on your face, the chill and then the silence and rhythm you had gotten into before it is broken, a call of, “Hey!”

It makes you stop short, ice shavings kicked up from the abrupt halt, a turn of your head towards the voice and look who it is, boots crunching through snow, tight jeans, a fashionable jacket and that familiar blonde head of hair with a warm smile. 

You skate up as she reaches the edge of the rink, she holds her hands out, and you take them, a quick glance and no one is around, so you do it. Leaning in, she meets you in the middle, she kisses you and the cold of the night is forgotten. The bliss is short-lived, but it is a balm to your frayed nerves and calming to your rushing mind. You pull back, smile stretching wider as you say softly, finally returning her greeting, “Hi.”

You squeeze her hands and ask, “What are you doing out?”

“Coming back from seeing a friend, just cutting through the park on the way home-” She leans closer while looking in your eyes she jokes, “-probably a bad idea with all the news lately.” 

You stiffen immediately and without meaning to, your smile faltering a little. The reminder isn’t helpful, it’s well after midnight, and you are skating alone in a park, it’s asking for fucking trouble. Gaze has dropped, and your mind is churning, one of her hands releases yours and cups your cheek, tilting you to look at her again, “Hey, you okay?”

You bite your bottom lip, and you know that you should be honest, if you can’t be with your girlfriend than who could you be? You spill, “I’ve been having some stress lately, not been feeling the best, just kinda, bogged down.”

“Oh sweetheart.” She hums, she pulls you into a hug, arms tight around you, “I am so sorry.” 

You slip your arms around her, return the affection, and melt into her closer. God, you needed this, needed her, you had really been missing her without realizing it. The smell of lingering cigarette smoke and her favored perfume has become an intimate comfort, mixing with the winter night air, it’s more than welcome, it was craved. Eventually she pulls back, her hands on your arms, and she says, “I think you need some help with your stress and if there is one thing I am good at, it’s relieving stress.”

A small laugh bubbles out of you, “Okay, doctor Valentine, what do you recommend?”

“I’m gonna take you out, night on the town just you and me, a special date.” She offers, and you ask, intrigued, “A special date?”

“Yeah! I know a great club, I think a night to cut loose would do you good.” Her eyes were alight with mischief, she seemed excited and honestly, so were you at the idea, your first official date out with her being your girlfriend. It had been forever since you’d gone out to a club, last time was probably before you started working at one, the idea of going out to one with her sounded like just what you needed. 

“Tiffany, that sounds amazing, I’d love that.” You tell her sincerely, and she makes a sound of pure delight, it’s adorable,  “Yessss! When is your next day off?”

You tell her and the date is set for then. You end up taking your skates off and returning them, she walks you to your train station as you talk and get caught up on the past few days she had, and then she bids you goodnight, leaving you excited about your next night off.

Tiffany came by to get you as opposed to you meeting her out and that felt nice, not like you didn’t like going to her, but getting picked up was still special and an appreciated gesture. 

You’d seen her dressed up for clubbing before, obviously, the many times she came to your work, this was just a touch different, almost hard to put your finger on, but then it clicks. She is wearing things you’ve complimented on her previously. The instances flit over your mind, times you’ve told her particular hem lines or cuts look good, what colours you think look best on her skin and further, she absorbed every sweet word, took it to heart and was dressed not explicitly for you, she was still dressed like herself, but had just taken what you’d expressed that you liked and applied it. Her coat was open at the moment, leather gloves on her hands to combat the cold outside your apartment building, the skirt was tight, the top was flattering, the belt sitting on her hips was more decorative than to help keep anything on, and you wanted to dip your fingers in the shiny chains and tug her close to kiss her, ruin the pretty lipstick she wore. 

Your arms open, lean close, inviting her in, the hallway is empty, and she takes you up on it, the hug is nice, the kiss is nicer, you breathe the compliment as your lips break apart, “You’re stunning.” 

“And you’re sweet.” She hums, pulling back she tells you, “And you’re one to talk, you look incredible, angel.” 

You preen under her praise, you had purposefully made sure to wear something different from what you usually did to work, typically dark colours and clothing designed to get boat loads of tips as opposed to something that reflected your personal style, not tonight. Now you’d chosen something with colour, a dress that was well suited to go out, on the tighter side, you felt good in it and hoped it’d invite her to touch, give her that same craving you found yourself always infected with when near her. 

“You ready to go?” She asked, and you nodded, your own coat was shrugged on, purse over your shoulder, and you closed the door, she stood next to you as you locked the door. Soon you and her were walking down the hall, headed to the stairs, and you asked, “So where you taking me?”

“I told you already, M’ taking you to a club, gorgeous.” She teased, and you laughed slightly, “Yeah I know that, but what club?”

She refused to tell you, not until you were there. The club entrance was a little hard to find, well it would have been hard to find if you were trying to get there solo just off the address information, Tiffany seemed to know just where it was, the front of the building was dark, a single light over the metal industrial looking door with one person standing out front to let people in. 

You were ushered in with no issue, the music now reaching you once the door was opened, you check your coats and let her lead you deeper into the bar, coming near the end of the darker hallway you ask, “You finally gonna tell me what is so special about this place?” 

In a moment of ridiculously perfect timing, you come around the corner, the music gets louder, the lights are bright, and you see the crowd, people close together, dancing and as your eyes struggle to adjust, she leans closer. Next, she is saying into your ear so you could hear over the thrum, “It’s a gay bar.” 

Holy fucking shit. 

What that means hits immediately, you can act like any other couple, can act like her and Chucky do out at your work or how you and her do in private, you can hold her hand and kiss her and more without worry. A full on date without restrictions in public. You had no idea this was possible for you and her.

You were so happy you could hardly stand it, you threw your arms around her neck and hugged her tightly to you, “Oh my God, are you serious?!”

She laughs, her hands rest on your waist before sliding slowly over your lower back, hugging you as she responds, “As the dead, beautiful.” 

You pull back, hands on her shoulders as you say, “Well c’mon, I don’t want to waste any time.”

Tiffany grins and let's go of you, taking your hand she leads you deeper inside. First order of business was getting you both a drink, you pass through the moving bodies on the dance floor towards the bar. You stand next to her, fingers lacing together with hers as you observe the people nearby, you try not to stare any place for too long, which is easy because you can’t help moving from one person to the next. You see couples not unlike Tiffany and yourself, groups of friends, easy displays of intimacy in any and every direction, it makes you feel warm and affectionate. You lean closer to her, press a kiss to her cheek, and she turns her head, saying, “You can do better than that, can’t you?”

You take her hint, the hand that wasn’t currently holding hers coming up, fingers stroke over her impossibly soft cheek, and you lean in, soon kissing her. She kisses you back, the taste of her lipstick and faint cigarettes greets you, it is easy to get swept up in it, in her, you can’t believe you can do this in a crowded public place. One thing snaps you out of it, namely a person misjudging how close they were to you, accidentally bumping into you, the kiss breaks and the person says, with a wave, “Sorry!” 

The stupid grin takes over your face, you squeeze Tiffany’s hand and say, “No problem.” 

And there really wasn’t. Just the fact that it has the potential to happen, a totally harmless and innocuous annoyance of someone accidentally interrupting you kissing your girlfriend, is a fantastic change of pace. You would gladly take it over trying to steal small moments of affection, terrified of someone seeing you and outing yourselves.

You get your drinks after that, fruity cocktails that Tiffany selected, you end up at a standing table near the dance floor, it is hard to talk over the thrum of the music, but you are just giddy to be out with her. After the first drink you can’t help it, pulling her out onto the floor, the music isn’t even necessarily to your taste but who gives a fuck about that when she is pressed against you like she is at this moment. The smile on her face is infectious, the sway of her hips captivating, and the mood is undeniably high. You realize you’ve only ever watched Tiffany dance before this, never had the opportunity to dance with her and God, you need to go out clubbing more often for the chance to. 

You love the time you spend with her and Chucky together but getting to have her to yourself is addicting, how she brushes hair aside to whisper in your ear, leading you as you dance, you find yourself forgetting your stress, all your problems seem so far away. 

After getting both of you another drink, you come back to someone hitting on Tiffany. She looks amused at the nervous attempt, the short haired redhead is doing her best, and it’s endearing, sweet, you come up and slot yourself against her side, giving her the cocktail, she takes it as you kiss her cheek, “Hey honey, who’s this?” 

“Someone who I think is trying to ask me out.” The blonde responds with a smirk. The cute girl ends up profusely apologizing not aware she was seeing you, “Oh my fucking God, I am so sorry, I wouldn’t have if I knew-” Tiff and you laugh it off, and end up having a good conversation with the girl.

The night stretches on, you end up talking to some other people, you have more drinks and dances, at one point you are in the bathroom, she is washing her hands, and you are looking at her in the mirror. Her eyes caught yours, and she grins, “What? Something on my face?”

You laugh, a shake of your head, “Sorry, just, I can’t get over how great tonight has been.” 

“Yeah?” She asks as she dries her hands, and you nod once, finding it impossible to look away, “Yeah. I am so out of the loop, I’ve never been to a place like this and coming here with you for my first time has been incredible, you, Tiffany, are incredible.”

She tosses the paper towel into the trash. She inquires, “You always this soft and sentimental when you drink?” She closes the distance, no one else is in here at the moment, funny how you keep finding yourself alone in empty club bathrooms with her. 

“Hardly.” You reach out, fingers brush down her arm as you tell her, “You just bring it out of me.” 

“My sappy little sweet thing.” She hums before leaning in, she kisses you, and it has the ability to do your head in more than any drink. The realization you are kissing again in a club bathroom is not lost on you.

The time together flies by after that. 

The club is getting near closing, you and her are splitting one last drink, you ask over the music, “Can we come here again sometime?”

She beams and tells you, “Anytime you want.” 

Lucky you. 

The last dregs swallowed, the last call completed, you and her are headed back out into the night, you see that redhead from earlier ended up with someone else, and it makes you happy to see. Your coats pulled tight around yourselves, holding hands and unable to stop smiling.

“You wanna come back to our place?” She asks, and you couldn’t agree faster. 

Your feet ache, and you feel lightheaded and joyful as you stumble into her apartment, heels are discarded, you are moving backwards towards the couch, fumbling to get your coat off. She has shrugged her own coat off, letting it drop onto the floor along with yours, you’d pick them up later. 

Her mouth is moving down the side of your jaw and down your neck and soon the backs of your knees hit the edge of the couch, and you flop onto your back, hands hooked on the straps of her top you pull her down on top of you. 

The heat sparking inside of you is stealing your breath away, you gasp her name as her leg slots between yours as she starts to suck a mark into your collarbone. You tug uselessly at the straps, she is already as close as could be, but the move shows just how needy you are, a move of your hips, grinding on her thigh you let out a weak moan. 

She breathes out your name as your hand moves, slides down her body and between her own legs, her head tips forward with a sharp inhale from the rush you provide her. You are constantly taken aback by how she can make you feel, whenever you have a moment like this, that you affect her in just the same way, it does everything for you, strokes your ego, turns you on further. 

She helps with her clothing in the way and your hand is in her underwear now, you can feel how wet she is and when your fingers slip inside, curling to find that spot you’ve come to know so well, you remember you aren’t alone. 

“Man, you two are not good at being quiet.” Your head jerks up as does hers, a look over, and you see Chucky standing there in the doorway of the living room, cocky half smile on his face. 

“Who says we were tryna be?” You giggle as you press, fuck your fingers in and out of Tiffany, and she moans louder, unapologetic smile on your face at the sound you dragged from her. 

“Ye-ahhh, sorry sweetface, did we wake you up?” Tiffany asks with a small upward curve of her own mouth. 

“You did! Terrible, the both of you.” He laughs, very amused, as he comes over. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, or socks, just a pair of pyjama pants sitting low on his hips, and you want to reach out and touch him too. 

“We are the worst. You should come teach us a lesson.” You tease, and he gets onto the couch next to you, a hand reaching down, fingers stroke under your chin, tilting your head up, and he says, “Yeah I think you are right about that. Can’t let you go around thinking you can just do whatever you want, when you want.”  

“Mmm, that would be truly awful.” Tiffany mused, watching as Chucky kissed you, making you melt. Being pressed between both your partners, passed back and forth, in the early hours of the morning, there isn’t anything better than tasting the heady mix of him and her.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[tiredandoptimistic]

Love may have lost in Restoration, but it wins with my banger RvB pride flags

Diversity win! Red vs Blue has allowed local queer person to reach new heights of hyperfixation for eight years and counting.

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[1000sunnygo]

The Rocky Port incident...

...turned out to be another instance of Law meticulously crafting a plan only to shoot himself in the foot, then forming an emergency alliance and somehow turning the tide in his favor. That's incredibly consistent 😭

But now everything makes more sense. It seems Law's intended bargaining chip for becoming a Shichibukai was to hand over a Poneglyph/rubbings to the World Government, and he was accepted not because he submitted 100 hearts of random pirates, but primarily because he played a key role in taking down Ochoku and saving some VIP royalties (also for securing the Poneglyph, I suppose).

According to the translation we have in hand rn, the name of the vessel Law hijacked was "Rocky Port". We know there's a port in Hachinosu with the same name. Maybe it was named after the ship after this incident? (edit: it seems it'd always been a ship and not a port, so, nevermind lol)

But what "important" Poneglyph was there, anyway?

I don't think it's the missing Road Poneglyph. Probably a Rio Poneglyph protected by the resident pirates. I wonder if Law was originally looking for the Road Poneglyph possessed by the man marked by flame, but then changed his target. Curious that he didn't know two of the Road Poneglyphs are possessed by pirates, let alone Kaidou and Linlin..

The chaos that broke out was not part of Law's plan, he was lucky that Blackbeard arrived to join the fun, and they could come to an agreement. Koby, on the other hand, was probably the only marine who agreed to work with the pirates, and thus was able to save the most number of innocent 'Rocky Port' passengers.

I'm pretty sure it was Law who proposed the alliance. Scoring cookie points aside, his conscience surely kicked in. It wasn't his style to drag a ship of innocent civilians to a devil's nest, so he offered to form a pact with the marines to reduce casualty. Without his presence that buffered both sides, a three way alliance wouldn't have been possible.

I had a hunch that Blackbeard and Law might have worked together for some time. But why did Blackbeard need to work with Law? Was Ochoku that strong?

It seems Law didn't know Blackbeard could use two fruits at once (during their flight at Winner island), so Blackbeard likely didn't go all out. Possibly it was of Blackbeard's best interest to secure his victory without greatly damaging the island that he was soon going to rule, so he decided to follow Law's plan. He likely invited Law to his crew too, similar to Kuzan.

In retrospect, it makes sense as to why the alliance with the Straw hats puzzled Law so much, it wasn't because he didn't expect the chaos but because it was entirely different from his previous experience.

I didn't expect the main story the dive deep into Rocky Port incident, it was only a matter of time until we got a short summary. There's enough meat to it to extend it into a short comic, and there's plenty of time in future.

For now, I'm looking forward to the Japanese fanworks flood on Monday 🍿

[mrs-steve-harrington]

— Please give a warm Peacock welcome to Ice Nine Kills

[aouboomseries]

bed friend, episode 3

middleman's love, episode 3

[localgardenweed]

They are taking over

[a-n-i-m-a-t-i-o-n]

I love this man so muuuuuuch ❤️ ❤️❤️❤️

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I was gonna say you're like a son to me.. but you're more than that."

"It ain't that complicated!"

How quickly that shoulder pat of comfort turned into a condescending one.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter Ten: "Getting Better All The Time." Poly!Chiffany X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

Okay! Here it is! Chapter fucking ten at long last. So I hope everyone loves this, shit is getting serious in a lot of ways. Just wait for shit to pick up after this one because it is about to go off. I’d looove to see ChatGTP do something like this but we all know that it is incapable. Either way, I adore this fic, it’s my baby, I am obsessed with it, this has some moments in it that I have had planned since the fic was in the planning stages. Masterlist for the whole series here. Shoutout to @eggsandbeer for the proofread on this and betaing it. Enjoy!

—

Rating. Somewhat NSFW. Length. 6.6K. Charles Lee Ray X Tiffany Valentine X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Softness. Fluff. Mentions Of Sex. Emotional Closeness. Cunnlingus. Smoking. Drinking. Serious Emotional Developments. Mentions Of Murder. 

—

Why did the lasagna she made earlier taste even better when reheated? Was it that you were that hungry or was it the fact that Tiffany is the one currently feeding it to you while you are post sex and still in the warm sheets of her and Chucky’s bed that made it so delicious? You did not know and you did not care, you found that to be the trend when you were with them. 

“You have to show me how to make this.” You sighed with your hand over your mouth, trying to still be polite even with the bite she fed you, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.  

She is leaning against Chucky, her head on his shoulder, you take them in at this moment, they look so right next to each other, the easy physical contact between the pair is second nature. Tiffany responds to you, “Name the time and place.” 

“So you were serious about your offer before?” You inquired and she gave a questioning look before you filled in the blank, “When you said you would show me how to cook?” 

She sounded slightly confused, “I said show you some recipes but don’t you know how to cook? You made us that great dinner.” 

“Yeah, those burgers were fucking good.” Chucky affirmed with a nod and you looked away, “Welll-...I’m not that great at cooking, I know how to make like five things, I eat out and do takeout the rest of the time, I don’t have that many skills in the kitchen. But I’d really like to get better.” 

Tiffany’s hand landed on your knee, your eyes drop to the new point of touch before looking up to see that she leaned closer and said, “Oh sweetheart, c’mon we all have gaps in places, if you didn’t have someone to take the time to show you, how would you ever know?”

She was so impossibly sweet. A soft smile creeps onto your face as you respond, “You make a good point.”

“So it’s settled, I’ll show you how to cook.” 

She said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, with a casual shrug. You couldn’t wait. 

When you all did settle down for sleep it wasn’t like a typical sleepover. No talking in the dark for hours, you were all beat, their bed was comfortable, on top of that you felt so safe, you passed out between the pair of them sometime around four in the morning. You didn’t wake up until a while after noon, the start of the morning, or afternoon rather, was slow. You weren’t in a rush to get out of bed, you didn’t have anywhere to be for hours yet. Once you were all aware of being awake you managed to get even closer together. You didn’t know that being in bed like this, squished between two people could feel so fucking good, it doesn’t feel claustrophobic or uncomfortable or too hot, you just feel embarrassingly and overwhelmingly happy. 

You all move slowly. 

No real rush. You didn’t have work for hours yet, not till tonight, and intended to soak up this last bit of time with them. Chucky is brushing his teeth and you are sitting on their bed while Tiffany is perched in front of her vanity, brushing her hair and she breaks the comfortable silence to suggest, “How about we all go out for breakfast?”

Sounded perfect to you and the pleased hum of agreement that comes from the bathroom tells you that he thinks so too.

You get in your jeans and Tiffany offers you a shirt, you all get your stuff together and around a half hour later are stepping out of their apartment building into the warm sunlight. The storm is definitely over but Christ the city got dumped on hard, piles of snow everywhere, the snowplows still hadn’t caught up even though it is almost one p.m. There was, of course, only one option of where to go to eat. 

The diner you love, the one near your work, that same one that you ran into them that rainy night and they invited you to stay and talk. It wasn’t busy at the moment, you end up in that same booth, both of them on the other side and you across from them just like before, you had the coats piled on the seat next to you, menus in hand and coffee in mugs, more awake as you talk about what to get. You know you look a bit ridiculous, the smile just will not leave your face but you are too happy to care. 

You think you might have ordered a little too much, the table is practically covered between the plates of food, mugs of coffee and glasses of juice. You wanted sweet but also craved something more savoury so compromise was made. You all got your own more traditional meals, bacon, eggs, hash browns but got a big plate of the small stack of pancakes to split. 

The mood is light and seemingly brightening, Chucky doesn’t seem like much of a morning person but with coffee and food he seems to be much more present, Tiffany also seems to be in better spirits. They both got their eggs the same way as that previous night, his over easy, hers scrambled with chives, she prefers white toast, he takes rye and you like learning all these small details that help make them, them. The tiny things that they like and dislike, that you come to know through spending ample time with someone or in their case, someone’s.

“So what are the best pancakes?” You asked as you were cutting into the one you’d just hauled onto your plate, and Chucky answers easily, “Chocolate chip.” 

“Really?” You asked and he hums, “I don’t always want something sweet but when I crave it I want it really sweet.” 

“Fair enough and you?” The question is posed to Tiff and she says, “Plain jane, butter and syrup is enough.” 

You told her with a smile, “Weak answer. I expected better of you.” 

She quirked a brow at your teasing, responding with, “Yet we got the plain and you’re busting my balls.”  And you tell her, “Blueberry is clearly the best, when the berries are in season it is divine but sadly, tragically they are-”

“Out of season, yeah I get you. So you’re stuck with subpar cakes, how terrible.” She reaches across the table and holds your hand and you sigh, “Right? I am so hard done by.” 

Chucky was cutting into his eggs as he said with a smile, “Poor thing. You should kiss that frown right off her face.” 

If only you weren’t in public then she could, she lets go of your hand and picks up her knife and fork again. 

“I am shocked he doesn’t pull that card more often.” Tiffany said and you responded before you take a sip of your coffee, “I think it might get worse now that he’s fucked me.” 

“Think?” Tiffany questioned and you laughed and he glanced around as he said, “Ignoring how mean you both are to me-” once sure no one in the place was looking or listening he was leaning closer over the table and he said quieter, “-how fun was last night?”

“Oh my God.” Tiffany put down her silverware a little too loudly and you nearly dropped your mug at the flood of memories as well as how candid he was being, your response leaves you hushed and quickly as you reply, “Unreal. I am pretty sure if we filmed and tried to sell it we might never have to work again.” 

“Wow one time in and she’s ready to be a porn star, you know how to pick em Chucky.” He fires back at her, “Like you weren’t loving seeing her and I fuck.” 

“Oh no I was very, very into it.” She admitted and you bite your bottom lip for a moment and nod, “Yeah Tiff we both felt how wet you were, we know.”  

This was great. Being able to go out and quietly but openly talk about how great the sex you had with them last night in hushed tones over plates of bacon and eggs is fantastic, it’s needed and thoroughly exciting.

You paid for breakfast since Tiffany made dinner last night and you all end up outside the place saying good-bye. They were lighting up for their first smoke of the day, post meal, and Chucky said on an exhale of smoke, “Great time last night, can’t wait to do it again.” 

“Me either. Wish we could keep hanging out but I have to go return these tapes and do some stuff before work.” You explained and Tiffany waved you off, “No worries, we’ll see you soon. I’ll get that shirt back from you one way or another.” 

“You’ll have to steal it off my back.” You tell her with a wave. 

“Tempting, tempting.” Tiffany said and Chucky chimed in and you hear him asking her as you break off, “I get a front row seat, right?” 

You laugh with a shake of your head as you head into the opposite direction, you return those video tapes, you have a shower, get ready for work and have as good a shift as you can.

Things with them just got so much better, it really felt like that sleepover brought you much closer together. 

They visit you more often at work again, you have dates here and there. You have planned dates and short spur of the moments that you carve out in busy schedules to show how important you all are to each other as well as being able to just satisfy those needs to spend time together. Some of these dates included more dinners out, grabbing coffee, another movie here and there and of course, enjoying the new expanded physical aspects of your relationship immensely. 

You are happier than you thought possible, you didn’t think you needed a serious romantic attachment like this, assumed you were content as is but this isn’t the first time that you were wrong about something. You are deep in the honeymoon period of dating them and intend on just soaking it up. 

It had been about three weeks since that first sleepover and there hadn’t been another one yet but you didn’t mind that at all, things had been a little hectic and you had seen them more than enough to make up for it. You even had some fantastic solo dates with them one on one which were really great. You loved spending time together but appreciate that you could spend time with just one of them and there were no weird feelings or jealousy. Being able to get together with just two of you was easier at times than being able to get all three of you in the same place, you are glad that you all were on the same page, if you only saw them when you could be a trio you would see them much less. 

You had that solo date with Tiffany about a week and a half after your sleepover. She and Chucky had stopped by your work for a drink and after you set down her glass she took your hand before you could pull it away and said, “I love your nails. Where do you get them done?” 

The current colour was a good one, you had painted them this adorably soft glittery kind of blush pink, nail ends longer and rounded, they were shiny and bright. You painted them last week and liked how they looked against the darker uniforms you usually wore for work along with the harsher make-up, the dichotomy was fun. “I paint them myself.”

Her jaw drops, she brings your hand up closer, inspecting your fingers more carefully and said, “No way! These are like salon quality! Like I thought this was a professional manicure.” 

You respond to her, smiling warmly, “Tiffany, Jesus that is so sweet, you mean it?” 

“I do! You totally have to do mine!” Her eyes were bright, her smile big and her hands felt so soft as they held yours, you tell her, “I’d love to.” 

So a date was made that night. Chucky encouraged it heavily since he had something to do and the next day Tiffany was coming to your apartment after lunch for a little spa date in. You let her in and soon you are sitting at the kitchen table, nail kit out, radio on and she sat with you as you began to scrub the old colour off her nails, “This is so nice, I was going to go pay for a manicure this week but now you are saving me some money.” 

“About time after how much you and Chuck spend on me.” You tease as you remove the deep purple and she asks, “So where did you learn to do this?”

“Self taught. I love having nice nails, I think it makes a good impression, I love how they make me feel, so I thought instead of spending money I thought why not do it myself?” 

“I love that.” She said it so sincerely and this was lovely. Having her alone in your place, doing one of your favourite things, is there a better way to spend an afternoon? She leaned over, she kissed you and your fingers stopped working for a moment as you returned it, leaning over, kissing her deeper, revelling in it before she moved back, breaking it. You have her nails clean and you are shaping them with a nail file and asked, “What colour are you thinking of?”

“I am considering black.” You hummed, you thought of her with sharp shiny onyx nails and it is a good look, you nod and agree with her, “I think that would look great.” 

You focused on filing and a comfortable silence fell over you both. Your mind however was still whirring and running, you had been getting into this habit ever since that sleepover, you started to feel more comfortable overall and would ask them questions about the relationship Chucky and Tiffany had before you were in the picture. The questions were small and quick, posing them to her or him on occasion when they pop up, “When did you get together?” “What is the first meal you cooked for Chucky?” “How did you bond so quickly?”

You got satisfactory answers and they found it sweet you wanted to know, it had gotten to a point they were offering up some information on their own. Which led to this, to now, a break in the conversation, with you starting up the conversation by asking quietly, “Is there anything about Chuck you don’t know?”

“Oh I dunno, he has told me a lot but I don’t think I know everything, you however, still have so much to learn.” She muses and you ask with a small smile, “Yeah? Like what?

Her grin nearly splits her face, eyes full of mischief, she asks, “Are you trying to get me to tell all his secrets?”

“No, God no, not all of them, Tiff.” You tell her before asking, “How about you just start by telling me one?”

“Just one?” She asks and you nod, “Just one.”

“How am I supposed to pick?” She muses and you cut in, “How about your favourite one?” 

The look in her eyes shifts, she says, “I can do that.” She thinks, takes a moment and hums and then she says, “I got just the one.”

“Ooh this’ll be good.” You say mostly to yourself and she says, “You have no idea how good.” 

You finished filing, you were cleaning up and preparing to start painting her nails, “Well don’t keep me in suspense forever hon.” 

“I won’t! I’m just building tension.” She assures and after another beat she tells you, “He loves art.” 

That makes your eyebrows raise, “He loves art?”

“Loves it, more than that he is an artist himself, a painter mostly.” She says it so sincerely and you just have to believe her but still you question, “What does he paint?”

“Portraits, abstract, still life, fuck, almost anything and everything that strikes him just right.” She says and you say, genuinely surprised, “No fucking way.”

You love that, appreciate the fact she shared something so personal. “And how is he gonna feel about you sharing that?”

“He might not be the biggest fan but it will come out eventually, plus, I bet he will ultimately end up thanking me for it.”

“So confident.” You sigh as you shake the bottle of polish, she asks you, “Can you blame me?” 

“I can not.” You unscrew the cap of the polish and take her hand, and you say as you bring the brush down, “You know, I’m something of a painter myself.” 

She laughed, head tipping back as you start to paint, “Yeah you bring that up to him and I am sure he will find that hysterical.” 

Your conversation continues as you work, she tells you in soft tones about sweet things he had done, times he got her gifts, dates they had, intimate dinners, moments of tenderness and closeness and it makes you ache. You love what they have and adore that you get to be included and privy to this information. Your gaze moves up from painting her nails, taking in her expression as she has this heart wrenching gorgeous smile on her face, telling you about the time he managed to get her a reservation for a truly wonderful birthday dinner for her.

He makes her happy and that makes you happy too. 

Once they are done you are screwing the bottle top back on and telling her, “Right, they are done, tell me what you think.” 

She excitedly turned her hands over, fingers folded over to check them out up close and you watched the expression on her face shift, “Oh wow!”

“Good wow?” You ask and she scoffs, “Amazing wow.” 

You had to admit you were pretty proud of yourself. You went in really hard, sharpened the ends a touch, gave shape to her natural nails and the small slight sheen of glitter, very subtle, still didn’t go unnoticed by her. She flexed her fingers, watching how the light caught her nails at different angles and she said, “Seriously, you did it so quick too.”

True, less than an hour and her nails were good to go. “Now be careful with what you touch, they still need to dry properly.” 

“Terrible. I want to touch you.” That makes you pause from cleaning up your nail kit, your eyes flick to her and say carefully, “Well I guess you will have to wait.” 

She gets off her chair, starts to come around the table as she says, “Orrrr I could just not use my hands.” 

Now in front of you, bent at the waist, she kisses you and you return it easily before she starts to move, lips drag from your mouth to over the line of your jaw and down your neck. Head tipping back, you moan her name quietly at the affection, the quickness of the arousal sinking in, the heat she makes spark inside of you. Soon she is on her knees after having worked down your body, she is between your legs, cheek resting on your inner thigh and you got her hint. 

You assist her, strip what is needed and all too quickly you have a leg over one of her shoulders, her mouth working eagerly between your thighs and her hands holding yours, fingers laced together, showing off her pretty new manicure thanks to you. She is holding your hands for a few reasons, one, the added affection and closeness, and another, to keep her good and your hard work safe, otherwise she doubts she would be able to stop herself from touching you.

By the time she is leaving you are on cloud nine. The afternoon once her nails were dry and you both had cum at least twice you spent more time doing your little at home spa date, face masks and a shared bath and more, you feel relaxed and boneless as you lean against the door frame, clad in just a robe as you waved goodbye to her. 

You could get very, very used to solo dates with her, it was different than when you dated both of them at the same time but you liked the up close and personal look you got at her, how she acted just alone with you when he wasn’t there. 

Similarly when you were alone with him it was different but welcome. One night, a few days after your solo date with Tiffany, while you were at work he came in, she was apparently busy that night, he came by for some quality time, it was nice. When the place closed down, your duties finished and you managed to wiggle away from your coworkers you seek him out. He was waiting outside for you, a block over right where you told him to. He was leaning against the brick outside of a building, having a smoke and upon seeing you again he lights up, “There she is! Hey baby.”

You come up with a greeting of, “Hiya Chuck.” 

His hand that isn’t holding his smoke is gripping your hand and tugging you to him, he kisses you, it’s playful, you feel him smile against your lips and you return his kiss before pulling back, “Someone’s happy.” 

“I am! M’ happy and hungry too.” He was very tipsy from the drinks you’d served him, he had just thrown an arm around your shoulders and you asked him, “I could eat. So where are you thinking?”

“I dunno, you know this area well, any ideas?” He asked and you knew just the place, took him to that late night pizza place near your work you’d visited with your coworkers from time to time. 

Sitting at one of the two person tables at the back, a medium pizza to split and sodas you ask, “So you never said what is Tiffany getting up to tonight?”

“Ah nothing major, seein’ some friends of hers.” He said with a shrug. You wonder briefly if you will get to meet them and you asked, “And you didn’t want to go?”

“Nah she deserves some time alone with them and besides, I wanted to do this.” He said as he picked up a slice of pizza, “Do what?”

“This. Spend some time with you solo, Tiffany did and seemed like it was real nice.” He admitted and you asked, “She told you about it?”

“Yeah, filled me all in. Kept going on and on about how much she loved her nails.” He nodded before taking a bite, the rise of his eyebrows tattled on the fact that she told him about how she was on her knees in your kitchen. Your fingers were playing with the straw in your drink, “Did she tell you what she told me about you?”

He looks confused and asked after swallowing his current bite, “She told you somethin’ about me?” 

You figured she wouldn’t spill and you grin, “She did.” You let it hang for a moment and he said, “I hope it was good or flattering. Was it either of those things?” 

“Oh yeah I loved hearing it honestly. She told me that you like art, more than that, that you are an artist yourself.” He dropped his slice with a laugh, non greasy hand coming up to comb through his hair, “Christ Tiff, selling me out.” 

You laughed, “Awe, what? I think it’s great! Why didn’t you tell me yourself?” 

“S’ not something I talk about with just anyone, some people have given me shit over it previously, alright?” Fair enough. Again, you hid a pretty big thing and this was small in comparison. “I get that Chuck, but seriously, I’m not like them, you can talk to me about it.”

He looks you over, considering and he can’t help it, the smile comes back to his face and he sighs, “Fine, you’re right.” 

You appreciated his willingness and ability to be open with you. “How did it even come up, anyway?”

“I was asking her more stuff about you both before I came into the picture and she told me that.” 

“Is that all she said?” He asked and you told him, “No hardly, she told me about some dates you’ve had, sweet things you’ve said and done, she made you look really good.”

It is true. How she is around him, looks at him, speaks about him, makes you like him more, look at him in an even better light. “Well shit, I don’t wanna be left out, maybe I can tell you some stuff too.” 

That was a pleasant surprise. “Really? You are offering up information?” 

“I am. Maybe I’m a little too drunk but M’ in a good mood, so!” He clapped once before pointing at you, elbows resting on the table, leaning forward, “Fuck it. Ask away.” 

What to ask him? You had no idea how long this deal would be good for. Maybe he is just willing to be this open because of the amount of drinks he choked down earlier, you should take advantage of this. The idea strikes like lightning and you ask, “She told me about some dates you’ve had, but I am curious, what is your favourite one?” 

He didn’t need to think about it, he knew just which one, is he seriously going to tell you all about it? You were looking at him expectantly. Leaning closer and clearly very excited and fuck it, why not tell you? Who were you going to spill this too anyway? Cat was already out of the bag about him being into art so with that important detail divulged, the risk was nil. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. So back in New Jersey there was this old as fuck building, no one was using it for anything, no one cared about it, place was practically falling apart, right?” 

You nod along and listen as he tells you about it. This old building he talked about, the one no one gave a fuck about, he was able to do whatever he wanted with it because of that and what he decided to do with it was use it as a makeshift art studio. He’d do all his work there and spent ample time within the dilapidated walls. He’d been doing work in said building for months, the city didn’t seem in a rush to sell it or tear it down, just one of those things that fell through the cracks, he came and went as he pleased, no one bothered him and he liked it that way. 

“I met Tiff that night we told you about, where she was just so incredible I totally forgot about that other girl. We had been seeing each other for a while, and had started getting to that point of spending more nights together than not. I wanted to be in the studio that night but I also wanted to see her and I thought, you know what, fuck it? Why not bring her there.” 

He proceeded to tell you that he told her he had something to show her, brought her to the place and let her see all of it. She loved it, he talked to her about what pieces he liked best, motivations, times in his life and what was going on when he made them, what drove him to create them. Sounded like a very vulnerable conversation but you aren’t that surprised, Tiffany is a special kind of lady and they have a particular kind of bond. 

“She was looking at this series I had done, was tryna push myself by doing this set of still life and using very precise colour palettes, blah, blah, it ain’t that important but what it led to was.” 

“What did it lead to?” You were all too into the story and he could tell, he smiles and then expounds, “She asked me in that very Tiffany way of hers, I am sure you can hear it, all, ‘do you paint people?’ and I told her I have, I just hadn’t in a while, hadn’t had anyone to the studio but her.”

“Oh you fucking smooth talker. She must have eaten that up.” He shrugs but there is that cocky air about it that makes it totally clear he knows how what he said got to her. “I mean who wouldn’t?”

You certainly would have in her shoes. “So an idea struck me then, I told her why don’t I fix that?”

He didn’t have to say it, you realised it right then before he could utter the next sentence but you still listened, hanging off every word. “I offered to paint her.” 

How fucking romantic is that? You didn’t think he had it in him, even after all the sweet things Tiffany told you he did the other day. You wonder why she left this one out but you didn’t focus on it much. Just listened more as he told you the rest of it. 

“We were up all night. We ended up getting takeout, we drank, we smoked, we laughed and talked and I painted her.” 

“How was she?” You asked quietly and he imparted, “I had this bed there, this mattress I dragged into the space because sometimes I’d get so caught up working and I didn’t want to go back to my actual place, so I’d crash there. I wanted her to be comfortable, so she sat there, I had this stool and my canvas and-”

The place was going to close soon, you still had some slices left, soda’s half full, you don’t care, you ask, “And?”

It was summer. It was hot but not stiflingly so. He isn’t sure the time, it’s that time where it stops being late and the question of it being early creeps in. He can’t stop looking at her, she is not in much, the dress she wore suited the weather, straps slipped down her shoulders, hem had rode up her thighs, heels off and next to the empty and overturned bottle of wine at the foot of the mattress. She wore a smile, cigarette between her fingers, blonde hair piled up and out of her face except for the few small bits framing it. She was stunning, a perfect subject really, all curves and kept him engaged in conversation while he worked. She was so funny. She was telling him some story about her sister and he was making sure to keep his brush away from the canvas, and didn't want to make any mistakes so close to being down with this. His hand that wasn’t holding the brush was resting on the top of the canvas, his hair was pulled out of the way, his button up shirt was off, white tank top as well as his pants and arms sported a few paint stains. 

“And then what did she do?” He asked amusedly, and she giggled before telling him with a gesture of the cigarette in her hand, “She left! I mean fuck, would you stay after that shit? I dunno how she ever showed her face again!” 

He laughs and so does she. 

The urge of it surprises him. The laughter goes quiet. The conversation stops, falling into a comfortable silence, he is staring into her eyes and she is looking back. The space between them wasn’t much, he could reach out and touch her if he wanted to and fuck, he did want to. He speaks without thought, just tells her, honestly, “You know…Tiff I…I’ve never said this to, fuck, well anyone before but…”

“But?” She asks, a cock of her head, genuinely curious and he says it, almost as if he doesn’t believe it as the words leave his mouth, “I think I’m in love with you.” 

She leans over, the remainder of her cigarette stamped out in the ashtray, looking at him all the while, “Oh my God Chucky.”

Eyes scan his face and she takes in his body language and she says quietly, “You’re serious.” 

A nod, a somewhat nervous laugh that is more of an exhale than anything else, “I am sweetheart, I really am.” 

The tension is thick, it is quiet again, he asks, “Are you gonna leave a guy hanging here forever orrr?”

She smiles, a small laugh as she shakes her head, “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t think I had to say it, sweetface. Of course I love you.” 

Her hands reach out, the canvas is leaned carefully against the stool and he joins her on the bed. He kisses her first but she returns it fast, desperate, needy, laden with emotion and the main event of the evening, the painting, the act of creation, him the painter and her the muse, is forgotten, now both of them are consumed with expressing feelings for each other. The ceiling of the place isn’t intact, the orange light filtering in making her look even more gorgeous if that is somehow possible, as they have sex while the sun comes up, it is the most inspiring non violent experience he has ever had. 

After it is over they lie together, they smoke more, they talk and they have been on this date for over twelve hours. They go out for breakfast after, he finishes the painting at a different time, he tells you that is when things got really serious between him and Tiffany, that is when they start making plans, talking about a fresh start, moving. 

The pizza is eaten. The soda drank. The place is closed. You are on the street with him and stunned. “No wonder that is your favourite.” 

He is lighting up another smoke, he hums in acknowledgment and nods. 

After it’s lit you reach out, your hand closes his lighter, snuffing out the flame, he turns, looking down at you and you tell him, “You…Didn’t have to tell me all that but, the fact you did, it isn’t lost on me Chuck. Thank you. Really.” 

“Course. I thought you’d like to know and honestly? It felt good to share.” He has this expression, it is hard to define but it is one that you had seen look at Tiffany with previously, it says, affection and that makes you melt almost as much as the story did. 

You lean up, you kiss him, soft and sweet, when you break it, pull away you say, “I had no idea how much you loved art.”

He tries to play it off, tone very casual as he tells you, “Eh, it’s alright.” You laugh, a scoff with a roll of your eyes. You let it go. You hold hands and he walks you to the train station, you tell him, “We should go to a museum sometime.”

He squeezed your hand and told you sincerely, “Sounds fun.” 

You get home safe that night, feeling like you know them much, much better. You feel included, part of this, of what they have even before you were there by having this knowledge of how they were. A call from them a few days after brings you to dinner with them before you had to work. 

Showing up to their place dressed up, having to go start your shift sooner rather than later and happy to see them, it is a pretty usual date by all accounts. They talk you into a glass of wine, the food is lovely and you are just enjoying their company. So when the food is eaten, both of them take a hand of yours and the question of, “Will you be our girlfriend?” shocks you. 

“What?” You asked and your eyes flicked back and forth between them, hands were sweaty, you didn’t want to let go but you wanted to wipe them off on your napkin, she speaks and distracts you, “We’ve been talking a lot.”

“So much.” He nods and she says, “We’ve been doing this for a while now and we both really like you.”

You had no idea what to say. Sure you had been dating, you’d kissed and had sex and shared pieces of yourself with them that you hadn’t with anyone, they had done their own fair share of divulging but still, you thought you were just a side thing, you knew they cared but not to this level, you thought you were ultimately some fun. You were okay with that, just getting to have them in any small way was fine for now, you didn’t think about the future, didn’t think this was building towards anything serious. 

He asks, “So what do you say?”

Yet here they were, offering to bring you into the fold, actually make you a part of their relationship. They were offering it out and you felt your heart burst. Warmth floods and you tell them, “Yes, I say yes, of course. I’d love to be.” 

You kiss him first. You kiss her next. They both pull you back to their bedroom.

You are late for work that night, coming in with hair that is just a little too messy, lipstick that is smudged and legs that are just a tad too shaky and a smile that refuses to leave. There are apologies to your coworkers, a lie about the train being late and they buy it, they don’t question because you are never late. 

Losing yourself to the rhythm of work, your mind isn’t focused thought, it’s on them. Girlfriend, you are their girlfriend. You have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, you have two partners, there is no question of how this would work because so far it has been working super well. You wondered how much better things could get, what this would mean. Your mind runs back over all the times you had seen them both, especially before you got together, are you going to get to that level but not just with one person but both? God, you hoped.

You were absurdly overjoyed, so light. 

Mid-way through your shift, there is a call of your name. You turn and see Rachel, she wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, wasn’t working, at first you smile, figuring maybe she came in for a drink. You wave but then your smile starts to fall, she looks pale, sickly, and rushing towards you frantically. She catches you, hands taking the one of yours that isn’t holding your tray, “Woah Rach, hi, what’s wrong?”

She was breathing so hard, she was talking so fast, babbling out, “I can’t believe it, I know you said not to worry and I tried not to but it felt wrong, not like I thought you were wrong but it just wasn’t right, you know?”

“Rachel, honey, please, slow down, I can’t follow you at all.” She was freaking you out. Your stomach was sinking, you were very worried about her, you’d never seen her so frazzled. She nods, sucks down a deep breath and nods before forcing herself to say slowly, “Do you remember Randall? My old regular?”

You nod as you asked, “Yeah of course hon, what about him?” 

She then says something that makes your blood run cold and feel like the floor drops out from under you, squeezing her hand as hard as she was holding yours, “The police just questioned me, he is missing, presumed dead.” 

So much for your high you were previously on. 

[bakudekublogblog]

kacchan there is actually a way you and izuku can be together forever i have this crazy inventive solution for you it's called a marriage license

[lindseymcdonaldseyelashes]

Leverage 4x1 - "The Long Way Down Job"

[gods-perfect-idiots]

something something blood-soaked hands cradling your face something something

anyway here's the post btw

[warning-heckboop]

Oh to be able to make the complex lore comic that lives in my head about the concept of fairies, anti-fairies, and pixies once being a civilization of one single species of fae that splintered both metaphorically and literally due to internal conflict

[hyohaehyuk]

Lovingly gazing into your coworkers eyes while he's talking about the sexual and emotional tension of your characters is crazy 🙃

JA: Yeah, and then also playing that off against that tension and the aftermath of some of those fights. It suddenly rebuilds this sexual and emotional tension. Like you said, you get to explore the breadth of a relationship. But yeah, they’re each other’s endgame, aren’t they? In the books, they always come home to each other. I think it’s telling that that seems to be the denouement or the end of a lot of the novels: Louis and Lestat being petty and in love.

cut via wolfganglestat

transcriptions by greedandenby

Full video (unfortunately i can't find the original source so i am linking 2 videos posted by fans on yt):

Interview With The Vampire | Nicole Drum from Comicbook.com talks with Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid