#also worth mentioning that maybe you should’ve just trusted your son

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

“Batman may not kill, but he also doesn’t need to save you 😉😏”

Ok then he shouldn’t have freaked out so much when Garzonas fell lol

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic were both JZX and Jiang Yanli are trans? I imagine the engagement would get complicated.

The More Things Change - ao3

“My lady,” the midwife said. “Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

Madame Jin shook her head. “I need a son,” she said.

“My lady –”

“I’m not doing that again,” Madame Jin said, her voice getting stronger. “I need a son.”

“But –”

She looked at her loyal maid, who inclined her head.

A knife flashed.

“Congratulations, my lady,” her maid said, pushing aside the midwife’s body with her foot. “You have a son.”

Madame Jin smiled.

-

“I’m glad you survived the birth of your child,” Madame Yu said to her old childhood friend, wondering why she’d been invited over to visit Lanling City quite so quickly – it hadn’t even been a month. “Were you thinking –”

“I have a son,” her friend said.

“Congratulations.”

“You don’t understand,” her friend said. “There’s a problem.”

-

“A-Li,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said in a strange tone. “Do you like wearing dresses?”

“Uh-huh,” Jiang Yanli said, trying to see if she could stick her fist into her mouth. She’d always worn frocks, the way all children her age did, but at some point soon her mother had been warning her that she’d need to switch over to wearing proper robes for boys. Jiang Yanli had burst into tears, saying she didn’t want to be a boy at all – that she didn’t want to leave her mother’s side, that she didn’t want to join the world of men, she didn’t, she didn’t.

“And you really don’t want to go be a boy? Really, you’re sure?”

Jiang Yanli nodded.

“What if I said you didn’t have to be? You could be a girl, just the way you like.”

“Really?”

“Mm. But you’d have to be a girl forever.”

“Okay,” Jiang Yanli said happily. “I wanna be a girl forever.”

“Good,” her mother said, and picked her up. “Just keep saying that.”

-

“What do you think we are,” Jiang Fengmian asked his wife blankly. “Qinghe Nie?”

His wife glared daggers at him.

“Attempt the impossible,” she said stiffly. “A-Li has been claiming to be a girl consistently for a year. Would you deny her the chance to follow her dreams?”

Well, when she put it that way…

Jiang Fengmian hesitated.

“It does create a problem,” his wife said, and he looked at her. She smiled faintly and leaned forward, showing her curves to their best advantage. “If she’s a girl, she’ll marry out, won’t she? We need a boy.”

Jiang Fengmian swallowed. A boy sounded – nice, he thought vaguely, eyes caught on what he was being offered. A little boy, lively and bright, with a happy smile always on his face…yes, that sounded rather nice.

Wei Changze’s letter upstairs said that his wife had announced that they had conceived, and that she had divined that it would be a son – it was frightfully early to make such predictions, less than a month in, but apparently disciples of the immortal mountain were able to determine such things early. A boy like that, who could be friends with their boy, a reason for them to come to visit and maybe even to stay…

Yes, he thought. That sounded rather good.

“All right,” he said. “A-Li can be a girl, I guess.”

-

Madame Yu and Madame Jin let news of the engagement seep out as rumor for months before telling their husbands. When they did, they took different approaches: Madame Jin pointed out the strategic benefits of an alliance with Yunmeng Jiang and the unlikelihood of Jin Guangshan finding a match for their son that would give him so much more influence in the cultivation world, which had made her husband stop his grumbling and look upon the match with a favorable eye.

Madame Yu stared at her husband, for whom she had just born a son three weeks premature and very nearly died in the process, and said, “What’s your problem?”

“A-Li can’t marry the Jin sect heir! She’s not –” He waved his hands. “The possibility of children –”

“I would have thought that would be a selling point,” Madame Yu said, and he blinked at her. “He’s Guangshan’s son. There will be children enough.”

After some further arguing, Jiang Fengmian begrudgingly backed down.

Madame Yu smiled to herself, and thought of grandchildren.

-

Everyone said that Jin Zixuan was a spoiled brat and incredibly lucky, but he didn’t think he was. Sure, he was rich and legitimate; his father valued him, while his mother loved him and would defend him against any challengers to his position as heir, but privately…

“Why do I have to work so hard?” Jin Zixuan asked, panting. “I’m already cultivating, and my teachers say I’m not bad with the sword –”

“Not bad isn’t good enough,” his mother said sharply. “You have to keep up with all the rest of them, and that means getting ahead now.”

“The rest of who?” he asked. “Do you mean…”

He hesitated, not knowing if he was also included in his mother’s taboo against mentioning the results of his father’s philandering.

“All of the cultivation world’s young gentlemen,” she said, to his surprise. “You have to keep up with them. No, you need to exceed them. You must!”

“But – why?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

-

“Mother,” Jiang Yanli said. She was clutching a book in her hands. “Mother, can we talk?”

Her mother frowned at her, looking disapproving – and then she saw the book.

Jiang Yanli thought she would yell at her, but she didn’t; her mother only gestured for her to come into her room, ordering her maids to close the doors and windows.

“Mother,” Jiang Yanli said. “Mother, the book –”

“How did you get a spring book?” her mother asked. She looked tired. “Surely you’re still too young?”

Jiang Yanli bowed her head.

It was true, she was too young. And yet…

“Mother, the pictures in the book…”

“I know.” Her mother sighed. “All right. Let me explain.”

-

Jin Zixuan stared at his mother. He felt sick.

“But,” he said, and swallowed. “But what about…?”

“I’ve handled it,” she said harshly. “But that is why you must not allow your father to take you to a brothel. Is that understood?”

-

“Who do you think is the best girl? Zixuan-xiong?”

“Oh, don’t ask him! He has a fiancée, so his answer will be her!”

“A fiancée? Really? What sect is she from? She must be extremely talented!”

“Forget it,” Jin Zixuan said.

“What do you mean by that?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, and suddenly he was getting into his face. “Say that again if you dare!”

Jin Zixuan opened his mouth, hating him – hating the whole situation, being stuck not making any decisions for himself, his whole life mapped out for him by others – but then hesitated.

Jiang Yanli is the only one fit for you, his mother said. Do you understand? The only one.

“I haven’t met her since I was five,” he said instead of what he wanted, rolling his eyes. “So how could I dare to boast about her in your presence? You all want to know about her, ask Jiang-gongzi.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him, the wind suddenly taken out of his sails.

Jin Zixuan escaped.

He felt like shit, thought. She was his fiancée, and he didn’t know anything about her – he didn’t want to hear about her, think about her. And yet…

The only one.

He went back to his room and wrote her a letter. It was a mess, the worst thing he’d ever written, nothing at all like the polite and careful phrasing, elegant and beautiful, that he’d been trying to put together, something worthy of his name.

He sent it before he could think better of it.

-

Jiang Yanli held the letter to her chest and smiled.

-

They’d exchanged a few dozen letters. Jin Zixuan knew that his intended was smart and witty, empathetic and kind, observant and well-meaning, but he didn’t know that she was beautiful until after they escaped from the indoctrination camp and the cave with the Xuanwu of Slaughter.

He’d just accompanied Jiang Cheng for the entire seven days it took to get to the Lotus Pier, collapsing right alongside him, and while Jiang Cheng had – somehow – gotten back on his feet and immediately led his father and mother out the door to go rescue Wei Wuxian, he’d stayed down on the floor until someone knelt down in front of him and smiled.

“Can I get you something to eat, Jin-gongzi?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, and turned bright red. He could sure think of some things he’d like to eat – living as his father’s son had certainly given him an education (however theoretical) about that.

“Food,” Jiang Yanli clarified, giggling into her sleeve. “Let me get you some food.”

-

This was probably a bad idea, Jiang Yanli thought, looking down at the head tucked against her chest. I probably should’ve just stuck to food. What if he gets with child? What will we do then?

She couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it, though.

“A-Xuan,” she whispered, and Jin Ziuxan stirred a little. “Can we do it again?”

“You’re insatiable.”

That wasn’t a refusal.

-

“A-Li!” Jin Zixuan shouted, rushing forward. “A-Li, A-Li…!”

She collapsed into his arms.

He looked at the retainers from Meishan Yu, stubborn but pale. “It’s all right,” he said. “She’s my fiancée. I can take care of her.”

“The Jin sect walks in the center path,” one of the retainers said. “Never quite committing to the Sunshot Campaign. How do we know this isn’t a trick to get into the Wen sect’s good books?”

Jin Zixuan bit his lip. He’d pushed his father time and time again, and even that had only gotten them to participate half-heartedly in the fight against the Wen sect. What could he say? What worth was his word?

“It’s all right,” Jiang Yanli said. “I trust him.”

-

“You could do so much better, you know,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s not too late!”

Jiang Yanli smiled down at her wedding outfit, but thinking instead of the panicked expression on Jin Zixuan’s face a week before when he’d unexpectedly thrown up in the morning when he was supposed to be preparing for the Phoenix Mountain hunt.

“Oh, it’s too late,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “On that note, you pick the name.”

“The name…?”

“For our upcoming nephew.”

“Shijie! You didn’t!”

Jiang Yanli’s grin widened.

-

“Wei Wuxian has committed a crime in attacking our camp and taking the Wen remnants,” Jin Zixuan’s father announced. “We should –”

“Let it go, Father.”

“…what?!”

“I’m getting married, and he’s A-Li’s shidi,” Jin Zixuan reminded his father. “It would be inauspicious to start a marriage by breaking such a relationship.”

His father looked like he was planning on ignoring that, so Jin Zixuan used his trump card.

“We can’t afford anything inauspicious right now,” he said. “Not when there’s a child on the way.”

His mother dropped her cup.

-

“I have to go,” Jin Zixuan said. “You don’t understand. I have to.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed his hair. “You’re supposed to be in seclusion,” she reminded him. “As am I.”

“I’ve been throwing up every morning for two months, A-Li,” Jin Zixuan pleaded. “I can order them to clear the kitchen. No one would know we were there!”

Jiang Yanli laughed a little. “The craving’s that bad, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, all right. We’ll give it a shot…”

It would have worked, too, if Jin Guangyao hadn’t noticed that too many people were in the wrong place and taken it upon himself to investigate.

“…Jiang-guniang?” He stared at her flat waist, then turned his eyes slowly towards the roundness at Jin Zixuan’s. “Jin-gongzi…?!”

“It’s all right, it’s A-Yao,” Jin Zixuan said to Jiang Yanli. “He won’t tell anyone. Right?”

Jin Guangyao shook his head mutely.

“Seclusion,” he muttered. “No wonder…everyone said it was bad timing that you went into seclusion right before Mistress Jiang announced her pregnancy. But it wasn’t, was it..?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

“We’re in your debt,” Jin Zixuan said, and thought Jin Guangyao’s eyes upon him were softer than they’d ever been before. “You’ll be a good uncle.”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “One question, if I may. Who’s the father?”

Jiang Yanli wrapped an arm around Jin Zixuan’s shoulders and beamed.

Jin Guangyao’s jaw dropped again.

-

“Your son needs you,” Jiang Yanli said to Madame Jin. “Go.”

-

“Jin Ling,” Madame Jin said, looking down at the baby in her arms. A son, her grandson…a miracle. “Well. You’re – not what I expected.”

If her husband ever found out…

Well.

She’d just have to make sure he wouldn’t, now, wouldn’t she?

[bakubros-boo-thang]

Disrespected Devil

Wordcount: -4K

Lucifer x F!Reader

Summary: When you disrespect the demon king, Lucifer is forced to say goodbye to you.

Genre: Angst, smutt, slight fluff, but tbh just angst

A/N: So another first. Not only my first time writing for the Obey me fandom (I have a major Obey me brain rot), but also my first time writing angst and I felt depressed after finishing this (which I did a second ago). I love Diavolo, but I needed a reason for the goodbye to happen so even if his dad is the villain, he is the one to execute it... Hope you enjoy this story.

Warning: NSFW, mentioning of being paralyzed I guess.

‘’What’s with Luci today?’’ ‘’He looks more pissed of than usual…’’ ‘’He probably listened to classical music too long and forgot his homework.’’ ‘’Lucifer forgetting his homework will never happen, but if it did he would look like this.’’ Hearing all those whispers during dinner time is nothing new for you. Tonight is different though. You know why he’s mad and you know who’s the blame. But it’s not as if you don’t have a reason to be just as upset. As dinner slowly ends you know there is only a small gap to avoid a situation. ‘’Beel, how about we go bake something for later this evening?’’ You say, as you cling onto the huge redhead. You know that food is a trigger and you know that this is the way to hide from HIM. ‘’Alright, sounds delicious!’’ He doesn’t seem to notice the way you hold onto him for dear life and the same goes for the others. Clearly, they’ve gotten so used to you that it’s not even necessary to be by your side 24/7. It’s not as if they know tonight will be the last time they see you. It’s a small moment of weakness and you feel your heart clench by the thought of leaving those boys. It’s enough to make you lose your grip on Beel's arm. Enough to bend over, because it physically hurts to leave them behind and enough for Lucifer to finally notice you and come to your aid. ‘’Beel, I think she ate something wrong. No cake tonight, I will see her to her room.’’

And with that, he scoops you up and takes you upstairs. Of course, your room is not an option. It’s way too close to the other rooms. No place to yell. No, Lucifer’s room is soundproof. Made for his nights spent with loud classical music and also made for the occasional screaming match with one of his brothers. As he enters the room, he carefully puts you down on his bed. ‘’Are you feeling alright, Y/n?’’ He says as he lays his palm against your forehead. The feeling of sadness is gone, already replaced by nerves. You know what’s coming. You know you won’t hold back. Will this be your last fight with Lucifer? The question never makes it to the surface, because the moment you nod your head in ensurement, Lucifer opens his mouth. ‘’Good, because you have no idea how foolish you acted today.’’  As mentioned before this room reminds you of the occasional screaming matches he must’ve had with his brothers, but never with you. Pissing Lucifer off is easy. You’ve done that plenty of times. Even made him show his true form, but making him scream, that is something you never achieved. Still, it is worth the try. Tonight is your last chance. As you get up you take a look at his face. What faces you is the cold expression he usually shows when he’s done with someone’s bullshit. The expression you have already mirrored back to him. ‘’So you are going to ignore me?’’ I’m not going to answer him. ‘’Are you serious?’’ I am not going to say a word. ‘’Should I spell out what you did?’’ Don’t say a thing. ‘’You just signed your death certificate.’’ His voice cracks and even though it’s far from the scream you aimed for. It’s still the first sign of emotion from the man you care about so much. ‘’Diavolo didn’t seem upset by what I said?!’’ You can’t help but talk louder. especially after being silent for the past few minutes. ‘’ As if he is going to kill me? ME?! And ruin the bonds that are being formed with the humans?’’

You can feel the tears in your eyes, this fight might’ve been about you being disrespectful in some way, but for you it was different. All this time getting closer with all the brothers. All this time loving them. All this time being there for them. It made you realize that the only one who made it difficult was him. With every step getting closer to each other; there were always a few steps back. An obsession with keeping up appearance, an obsession over a promise he would keep no matter what, an obsession with being a stuck-up asshole; That was Lucifer in a nutshell for you. And still, you couldn’t help being drawn to him. As a moth drawn to a flame. Even when the flame could easily kill the moth. Just as easily Lucifer could kill you. And it’s not as if he hadn’t tried that before. ‘’Y/n, You disrespected his father. I had to bargain for you to even leave the castle. The first time I trusted you enough to take you with me alone. And this is how you behave? You know what he wanted to do to Belphegor…’’ You know this story is his weakness. The reason he ended up becoming the lapdog of his so-called best friend. Still, it only makes you more upset to hear him say it. Even when you can hear the slightest hint of emotion in his voice; his eyes stay just as cold as usual. ‘’He is your best friend, isn’t he? He is my friend too, right? You always do this Lucifer! You always get mad over things and it never solves anything. You get mad at me for having fun. You get mad at me for trying to help. You get mad at me for trying to get closer to you. You don’t share things with me! Maybe Diavolo should’ve locked me up. Might as well get myself killed; it’s not as if you never tried to kill me…’’ Your voice is loud as you speak, but his silence is louder. He just stares at you and then it happens.

It’s not that you’re scared you’ve seen his true form before. It’s just as beautiful as him, but it’s also something that happens when he’s full of rage, just as that one time he tried to kill you. You can feel yourself freeze under his gaze. You can feel yourself moving away from him until you reach the headboard of his bed. Still, he moves closer. Until his lips are inches away from your ears. No screams, only whispers; what a way to say goodbye. ‘’DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?!’’ You are so shocked by the volume of his voice, the bass it carries, that it takes some time to realize he has more to say. Your ear is beeping as he moves his lips away and locks his gaze onto you. ‘’DIAVOLO IS NOT THE FUCKING PROBLEM, Y/N, HIS DAD IS. YOU INSULTED THE KING OF DEVILDOM IN FRONT OF HIS SON AND MULTIPLE WITNESSES. DIAVOLO CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT THAT.’’ Only now do you notice the way his hands are gripping your arms; The way his expression has changed from cold to almost desperate. ‘’That guy has only been able to do what his dad wanted. Our friendship is real, but if his father told him to kill me, he would do it without hesitation. Do you really think he would think twice about killing you? IF HE WOULD KILL ME -HIS BEST FRIEND- IN AN INSTANT?” You notice the tears in his eyes. Lucifer is screaming and crying, but this isn’t a win. Before your heart breaks again, his arms are around you and his face is hidden in your neck, but that doesn’t stop the words. ‘’I had to send you away. I had to be cold. They know I care about you, but not to this extent. I had to pretend it was for the sake of the bonds. After you left I had to beg on my knees for your survival. I had to beg. The avatar of pride begged someone on his knees. It was all Lillith over again…’’

There is nothing you can say to fix this. It might’ve slipped your mind while you were there. But you were surrounded by royalty. What might’ve seemed innocent for you, was clearly a lot for them and now you had to leave everyone you loved behind. You can feel the tears fall from your eyes. “I’m sorry Luci, I truly am.” It won’t help, but it’s the least you can say as you look up into his eyes. He is still in his true form, but even with his wings all spread out, he has never looked more vulnerable. There is a sad smile on his lips as he caresses your cheek. “I know you are, you fool.” He says with no trace of the rage he had before. “ I don't want to leave you all…I don't want to leave you!” You know that you sound like a small child that already knows he lost and that’s exactly what you feel like. “It’s too late for that now, Y/n. Diavolo gave me tonight to say my goodbyes.”  You try to distract yourself by focusing on his raven colored wings. “So that means I can’t say goodbye to the rest…”  The pain is back. Never being a fool with Mammon, never dressing up with Levi, doing make-up with Asmo, reading books with Satan, eating with Beel or sleeping with Belphie.  You can’t help but grab your chest again. “Are you okay?” Lucifer is supporting you within seconds as he asks the question. “No I’m not, but atleast I get to say goodbye to you.”  And as you look up he leans in and gives you a tiny peck on the lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for quite some time.” He lets out. You can’t help but smile as you pull him back towards you. “Let's make it a proper goodbye then.” You whisper as you pull him back to your lips.

It’s not like it’s your first kiss with Lucifer, but it’s the last and that’s what makes it so much more special. It’s the combination of mutual sadness and desperation, the hint of rage still brewing somewhere deep inside the both of you. He knows your body, the way it will arch when he pushes you all the way down onto the bed. The tiny gasps when he starts kissing your neck. The way you look away when he starts kissing all the way down your body. ‘’Please keep looking at me, dear. I want you to see how much I am going to miss you.’’ It’s enough to make your heart flutter, the way he starts to attack your core with his tongue right away. It’s obvious he is in a hurry, but even with all the sadness, it’s the best way there is. You can’t help your moans; You’re lucky his room is soundproof. He’s fast, maybe too fast, but with everything that’s going on, it’s the best you can get. And that’s what it is. The best, because within a few minutes you can feel yourself starting to reach that point. The knot in your stomach tightens. your hands end up in his hair and with one loud moan, you erupt around him.

‘’I know that Mammon claims he was your first… in multiple ways… and not to discredit my brother, but I intend to be your last in all of them.’’  He says as he looks at you while he licks his lips. Him saying those words, the way he just made you lose your mind. It feels good, after all the fighting, teasing, kisses and losses , you’re with the man you love. You don’t want to ruin the mood. You’re really trying, but the moment you hear yourself thinking about loving him, about leaving him, about leaving his brothers, you just break. The tears start to form in your eyes and as you try to wipe them away you feel something on your arms. Lucifer. His eyes are cold again as he moves up to face you. ‘’Don’t hide your tears. I am just as sad.’’ He takes a long look at you, lets out a sign, and lays next to you as he caresses your back. ‘’I don’t want to play the ‘’Who has it worse’’ game, truly, I don’t want to, but in all the years I’ve been in heaven and hell, you’re the first human to have ever make my blood boil. Both from nerves and anger nonetheless, but losing you. Losing the one that made my family whole, the one that makes me feel all these emotions, the one that I love, hurts.’’ You can’t help but raise your brow. when he notices your expression he lets out a laugh.

You feel his hand grab your chin and suddenly your lips are only inches apart. ‘’I know you love me, Y/n. I’ve always known. Falling for you, was what surprised me.’’ You can’t help, but roll your eyes at him. Trying to ignore the way his hand feels on your back. The way it slowly moves it’s way to your hips. ‘’You know I do love all your brothers quite a lot too…’’ You say with all the confidence you have left. ‘’I know you do, but still I am the one that has you laying here. Practically begging for more.’’ He let’s out a chuckle as he pulls you closer. ‘’Let’s end this conversation, there’s not enough time.’’ And with that he’s on top of you. You know there isn’t much time, but when he starts to unbotton his shirt it’s as if time slows down. Of course he notices your looks and can’t help to give you a sly smirk. ‘’Don’t worry your next.’’ Is all he says as he takes his shirt off and starts tugging on yours. After your shirt is taken off he takes a look at your body and all you see is adoration on his face. ‘’I want to see all of you.’’ It makes your body flutter. ‘’You’re absolutely breathtaking.’’ He whispers. All this praise makes you feel weak. You try to grab his face, but as you put your arms up they fall down. You feel weak. Not because of his words, but something else. You see Lucifers expression change, the adorations is switched to concern, then back to concentration and before you know it he scoops you in his arms and makes you straddle him.

He’s looking at you, but not really. Obviously talking to himself. ‘’He wanted to be sure…’’ And as he says it he’s back. Back to giving you a sad smile. ‘’What’s going on?’’ Is all you let out. Is all you can let out, as you feel your body weighing more and more. He notices you getting weaker, making sure your settled between him and the headboard of the bed, before he speaks again. ‘’I think it’s time… Barbatos must’ve cast a spell… something that gave us a time limit. The probably knew it would be hard saying my goodbyes to you. Now I’m forced to make haste, just to make sure you’re safe.’’ You can’t even respond. You can move, but barely and all you can do is watch as Lucifer grabs his shirt. As he moves away from you, you’re sure of it. No this is not the way we’re going to say our goodbyes. It needs to be on our terms. Of course those words never leave your lips, but with all the power you have you reach out to him and as he looks back you let out a: ‘’No...not like this.’’ And maybe it’s the few words you’ve spoken, or the way your arm is trembling from all the power it takes to hold on to him, but he crawls back to you. His face is right above yours and if it’s not your eyes making it obvious what you want, you’re mouth will do. ‘’Take me…’’ It’s not a lot of words, but with the face you’re making and the fact that you guys were just in the middle of it, it doesn’t take much guessing. You can see that he’s thinking about it, obviously worried for you, but you can see his eyes change the moment it clicks.

His wings ar still there and you wished you could touch them, feel them one last time, but you should be lucky by what you can still get.’’I used to be a rebel, so why not know.’’ He laughs quietly before he lays you flat on your back.  ‘’I’m going to take care of you my love, promise me to let me know when it’s too much or when you want to stop.’’ You nod your head and you know that your eyes tell him all he needs to know. How bad you want him, how even when you were able to just talk normally, you would want this goodbye to be said only in silence. His body is hovering over yours, his hand touching your neck, giving you goosebumps. ‘’Does this feel nice?’’ he whispers as his hands move towards your breasts. You can only let out a tiny gasp and that tells him enough. ‘’I wish we had more time…’’ Is all he says as his finger enters your core. The moan that escapes you is loader then the both of you would’ve expected. As he continues to stretch you out with one hand, his other starts to prep his cock. ‘’Wish I could… do that for you.’’ You manage to say. You can’t keep your eyes from him. The way he’s hovering over you. His finger inside of you and the way you can’t do anything except for your stares, moans and gasps. ‘’All I want is to feel you right now, my love.’’

And with that he places the tip right in front of your entrance. He makes sure your faces are only inches apart and as he slowly slides into you, his arms make there way to your sides. He’s holding you as he bottoms out in you and the only thing you can do is let out a long moan. He starts moving slowly, tender, putting all his love in every trust. He’s the only one speaking from time to time. ‘’I love you’s’’ and ‘’You feel so good’ s’’ are filling the room. All that praise, all the love in his eyes. The fact that he’s not only literally hitting all your spots, but also the spots in your mind, is what does it for you. You feel yourself unravel under him. You’re so close, that you start to tear up. Your eyes are filled with tears, mostly because of how good this feels, the fact that you’re making love on stolen time, but also because the time is probably running out soon. Lucifer never increases his speed. When he notices your tears he quickly wipes them away and as his hand caresses your swollen cheek he whispers:  Don’t cry, my love, let us enjoy these last moments.’’ And just as he is about to give you a kiss on the lips you whisper a soft ‘’Love you Lucifer.’’ You notice his eyes being red as well and it’s devastating, but it feels so good. the way he keeps a steady pace has you reaching your peak and these final ‘’I love you’s’’, the final kisses is all you need to feel yourself tightening around him. He’s close too, because the moment he feels you tighten around his cock he gives you one firmer stroke and that’s all he needs to cum inside of you. He falls next to you and quickly takes you in his arms. ‘’I wish we could stay like this forever. I would sell my soul… but I guess in some way my soul has already been sold.’’ And all you can do is give him a sad smile before your eyes close.

Lucifer knew that it was time. You were starting to feel cold, too cold. After putting on some clothes and making sure you were fully clothed, he grabbed the coin Barbatos had given him. ‘’Use this before the time runs out.’’ So he had warned him for the curse. He knew he couldn’t be mad at his friends. He couldn’t be mad at you, he could only blame himself. He had shown his weakness by loving you. But you loved his brothers, loved him, despite all he stood for, without any shame. And even with the way it felt like he was going to lose you forever, it still meant the world he had the honor of getting to know you. The moment the coin was thrown a portal started to form and as he grabbed your cold body the darkness swallowed the two of you. As he opened his eyes he saw nothing, but darkness. It took a few minutes to notice that he was in a room. It must’ve been yours, because he noticed a picture of you next to a bed. He was going to take the picture, he was a rebel after all. As he tucked you in, he was at a loss for words. So all he could do was give you one last kiss on the forehead. Not being able to stop the tears falling from his eyes. ‘’Goodbye, my love…’’ and as the darkness was about to swallow him, he couldn’t help but leave one more thing behind. A raven feather, just for good measure. Returning to the Devildom was going to be almost as hard as leaving you here. He was once again going to be the villain in yet another story… the story of how he lost you.

You wake up to sunlight. Too much of it. Why aren’t your curtains closed? Wait, you have to get out of bed, it’s your turn to cook for everyone. Everyone? You live by yourself… right? It feels like you had a weird dream, but you can’t remember it. All you feel is sadness. As if you’ve lost something or someone important. The pain hits you so hard that the moment you try to stand your legs give out and you lay on the ground as tears fill your eyes. It hurts, but you don’t know why. As your hands try to find some grip to get up, you feel something soft. A feather. A raven black feather. It’s weird, but it feels comforting. Before you can help yourself, your lips are already on it and even when you should be grossed out by it, you plan to cherish the little trinket...

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Walsh

Final Part, PART THREE

Also, sorry this is so long. I just wanted to post the whole thing this weekend. So enjoy babes!

Warning: smut, violence, gore, breaking and entering, sarcasm. So much swearing. Mentions of Shane c*ck.

A/N: funny story, I've hated Shane since the Walking Dead aired originally because I thought he was cocky and I was like fourteen. Well, now I'm a 22yr old adult and GOOODDDAMMMN it, Jon Bernthal is a great, wonderful actor and so, so easy on the eyes.

@thewhitewolfownsme thanks for getting me hooked ;)

Kennedie gets up to look out the window, not one for hospitals, when she sees Walsh heading to his cruiser. She almost knocks, but she didn’t want to make it seem like she actually liked him.

“Where’s Walsh going?” She asks, looking to Rick. He shakes his head and scowls, he didn’t know either. Rick joins her, watching out the window as the horror unfolds before their eyes. A small, petite nurse jogs up to the car and he greets her with a hug and a kiss. He hands off something small, she can’t quite see it, but she can deduce by the way the woman wagged them at him and the way he smiled exactly what they were. Shane looks around to see if anyone saw them before he heads back inside.

“Rick, I don’t want him in here.” She whispers, tears falling down her face.

“I don’t blame you.” He assures, patting her shoulder she sits down. Rick heads out the door to meet Shane before he can get in the door. “You’re a liar too?” He growls as he pushes Shane back down the hallway.

“What?” He asks, his body getting chills.

“Go outside.” Rick orders, jabbing a finger at the door. Shane tries to go back to Kennedie’s room but Rick just grabs his collar and drags him out.

“Rick, what’s goin’ on?” He stammers.

“Tell me you didn’t respond right away because you were eating your lunch.” He seethes.

“I told you, when I was eating the keys fell between the seat.”

“It had nothing to do with little miss muffet and her little lace panties?” He asks, pointing to the cruiser. Shane’s eyes blast wide, nothing but whites as he takes a step back.

“Rick, I can explain-”

“Well you better, because you’ve got Kennedie up there so mad she’s crying.” He jabs a finger up to the window with the half-open curtain.

“Shit!” He shouts, slamming his fist into the hood. “Rick! I messed up once!” He cries, fists quaking at his sides. He paces back and forth in front of the cruiser until it’s black outside.

“Shane, go home.” Rick calls as he walks down the lot to their car.

“I can’t, Rick.” He huffs, sitting on the hood.

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Rick shoots into the night.

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna see her. When I got there, she was laying in a pool of her own blood, Rick. I’ve seen dead bodies and I’ve seen a lot of blood, but that made me sick. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t help her. I--I fucked up.” He cries, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, you fucked up, Shane. Unfortunately, I can’t fix this fuck up. She hates you.” He breathes a shaky breath out watching Rick leave. As the lights leave the street, Shane heads inside and slips into her room just to see her, to make her real.

“Pussy. Pussy. Pussy. The only thing that lives in Shane Walsh’s mind. Even when someone is breaking into his best friend’s house, pussy. That must be the way to live, huh? Why don’t you worship me like that? Huh? The way you worship the pussy? I wasn’t even worth a ‘sorry I gotta go’.” She throws her stress ball at him, hitting him upside the head.

“Kennie, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, comes out smooth to me. Didn’t come out at all to nurse Panties.” She hisses, rolling away from him.

“So we’re back to this? The insults and anger?” He asks. She jerks into a sitting position and looks at him with a wild look in her eyes.

“Yes Walsh! We’re back to square one because I trusted you! And you were too busy getting laid in a hospital parking lot to respond to a burglary at Rick’s! So yes! We’re back to the beginning! I trusted you because you said you really weren’t that bad and here we are in a hospital because you couldn’t keep that precious Shane cock to yourself. You gotta share that shit with everybody!” She screams, Shane just stands there and takes it. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to leave.

“Listen, I’m sorr-”

“I don’t want to hear another fake apology come from those stupid lips! Get out Walsh!” She cries, tears pouring down her face.

“Kennedie please don’t make me go.” He whispers, his bottom lip quaking.

“I don’t want you here! Hell, maybe I’ll get lucky and you and nurse panties’ll be fucking on the empty bed there! Wouldn’t that be a goddamn sight!” She roars, kicking her feet.

“Kennedie, I-”

“Quit saying sorry, Walsh. Get out.”

“Please don’t make me-”

“Like you made me trust you and fall in love with you to find out you’re still the same womanizing dickbag you’ve always been? No. You made me. So get out. I swear to god I’ll call security.” She threatens, grabbing her call button.

“Fall in love with me?” He asks, breath hitching in his throat again, that familiar burning sensation in his throat.

“Does it matter now?” She asks, rising to her feet and walking passed him to open the door. “Leave please.” He faces her and sits in the chair.

“I can’t leave.”

“You can and you will.” She grabs her phone and calls Rick. “Please just make him leave. I-I need him gone. I don’t want to call security and make a scene, but dammit he won’t leave. She sits on the edge of her bed crying, sobbing uncontrollably. How dare he make her fall in love with his stupid smile, and those stupid pools of dark chocolate, and that stupid fluffy hair. He stands in the corner by the door, unable to get any closer, but he just looms, watching her cry.

“Shane?” Rick coos, heading into the room. He finds the large man standing in the corner, a terrified look on his face. “C’mon buddy. We gotta go.” He grabs the other man’s elbow and pulls him towards the door. Digging in his heels, Rick hears a small whisper.

“Please don’t. When I leave, all I see her laying in that pool of blood, Rick. I can’t.” He cries, trying to go back.

“Shane, she doesn’t want you in there so you gotta go. You gotta leave.” He pulls Shane from the room. Her strangled sobs mangle his emotions and he steps into the hallway to breathe. Rick’s hand finds his shoulder. “Shane, it’s okay.”

“It’s all my fault. I went by at eight every day but today. Every other day. I checked four times a day just to be sure.” He begs, trying to make it make sense.

“Shane, they got the guys okay?”

“They did?”

“Yeah.”

“Rick. I’m in love with her, Rick. I’ve been in love this whole time. I was excited about cold pizza and movie night. I made breakfast. I took Carl to school. I was nice.” He stammers, listing off everything he did right.

“I know, Shane. But she’s mad at you right now, okay?” Rick tries to reason with this grown man the way he’d reason with his five year old son.

“Kennie?” Lori’s soft voice breaks through her sobbing. She looks up, swiping away the tears and sniffling. “Shane is pretty beat up over you.” She smiles gently, a hand on her best friend’s knee.

“I bet. So am I.” She cries, letting Lori hug her tightly.

“He fucked up, he knows that.” Lori tries to reason with her, but when she realizes what she’s trying to do, she sits up and frowns.

“No no. Don’t you dare try to stand up for him. He did this to himself. And unlike everyone this man child has ever met, I’m not giving into him that easy. He made his bed, let him lay in it a while.” She retorts, rolling her eyes.

“Listen, I know you’re mad at him. I get it, but Shane isn’t good when he’s mad like this. He starts to drink and make bad choices.”

“And who’s fault is that? Mine? I should just cast aside my anger because Shane might get drunk and pass out? He’s a grown man, Lori! He’s not your child!” She shouts, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know that. I’m just asking you to --”

“To forgive him for getting pussy instead of answering a call to your house, where your son was, and where I was shot. I’m sorry Lori, I don’t know what kind of hold the Shane dick has on you too, but I’m forgiving him yet.” Lori’s hand smacks across Kennedie’s face before she can stop herself.

“I would never-”

“Oh shut it! I’ve seen the way you look at him sometimes, like he’s a fresh piece of steak. I see it. You two probably had some fling before you and Rick got married and now the Shane dick has the almighty power over you.” Kennedie rolls her eyes as Lori stands and stomps out. Kennedie just laughs. Lori would ruin twenty years of friendship over her husband’s best friend’s dick.

“Rick. Let’s go. Shane, get up and leave. You’re being a child.” She hisses, grabbing Rick’s arm and storming for the door.

“What happened?” He asks, looking to Lori with confused eyes.

“I slept with Shane ten years ago, before you ever thought about dating me. Okay? Please don’t be mad. Anyway, I was trying to talk to Kennie about forgiving him but she won’t.” She huffs, getting it all out in one breath.

“Because Shane was fucking a woman in the backseat of the cruiser when he should’ve been responding to a burglary at your house where your son was. Your best friend was shot. And you think she should just forgive him? He fucked up, Lori. He messed up. I know you like to see the best in everyone, but Shane really needs to reevaluate, hunny.” He offers, explaining to her. “And I’m not mad, it was ten years ago.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She heads back into the room and looks to see Kennedie getting up and dressed. “I’m sorry.” Lori calls from the door.

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean what I said to you, but I’m not forgiving Walsh. So if that’s what you’re here for, I don’t have anything to say.” She pulls on her jeans and Walsh’s tee shirt that she’d stolen at a party long ago.

“I know. You don’t have to forgive him, but please forgive me.” She asks, sitting next to her and hugging her.

“I could never stay mad at you.” Kennedie chuckles, hugging back. “The doc let me go, so. I guess I’m outta here.” She pats her knees as she rises and heads out the door.

“Let me drive you home.” Shane begs, grabbing at her hand.

“Let you drive me anywhere? No. Fuck you. I actually never wanna see you again. So.” She shoves him away and walks out the door.

“You can ride home with us. Your car is still in the driveway.” Lori calls as Shane gets into the cruiser. He follows them to Rick’s. Rick gets out and gives Shane a confused look.

“Walsh, go home.” She bites, throwing a fist at him. “Oh my god, Lori. I gotta clean the blood off the floor.” She calls, jogging inside.

“No no, we had cleaners come in hunny.” Lori chuckles, hugging her tight before they go in the house. It was spotless, like nothing happened.

“Wow.” She whispers, taking in the memories of the weekend.

“Tell me something though. Were you and Walsh really hanging out and like, not hating each other?” Rick asks as she grabs her bag.

“Yeah, kinda. He was almost nice.”

“Aunt Kennie says uncle Shane is a woman fighter.” Carl states from the edge of the hallway. Walking tiredly to Lori, he gets up on the counter. “Uncle Shane came and made breakfast one morning. He even spanked aunt Kennie, but she spanked him back. Then they both had white on their butts.” Carl gives a sleepy little smile. “Uncle Shane came back for pizza and they laid on the couch like you do with daddy.” He points to Rick and she feels her cheeks flame.

“I thought you were sleeping you little stinker.” She laughs, tickling him as he erupts into giggles.

“Did you know all my other friends have aunts and uncles who are married. How come you and uncle Shane aren’t married?” He asks, yawning and curling against Lori. She looks ove her son expectantly with a smirk.

“It just wasn’t meant to be little dude.” She smiles sadly, patting his shoulder.

A month goes by without so much as a sound from Walsh. As she’s walking to his apartment, she hears a thump and opens the door to find Shane laying on the floor.

“Wow, look what the cat dragged in.” He gives a drunken whisper as he tries to stand up.

“Yeah, lookie there.” She coos, smiling sadly at him.

“You-look--” He covers his mouth a moment before he sucks in a breath and vomits on the hardwood floor.

“Not as good as you.” She laughs, pulling him up off the floor and getting him into a shower. Tugging off his black tee shirt and his jeans, taking a deep breath before pushing him under the water. “C’mon Walsh, stand up.” She coos, trying to help him. Finishing his shower, she gets him walked to his bed and laid down, tugging off his sopping wet underwear and putting on basketball shorts. He’s snoring soundly when she steps out of the room. Her eyes land on the pizza boxes and beer cans like a frat party had been tossed there in his living room.

“Christ, Walsh.” She whispers, folding up all the boxes and stuffing them into a bag, shoving all the bottles and cans into another. Tidying up the couch, she even vacuums the floor for him. Hearing a groan, she looks up to see Shane standing in the doorway, staring at her with the most bewildered expression.

“Ken?” He asks taking a step into the living room to find it clean. “Kennedie, what are you doing here?” He asks, stepping a little closer.

“You called me and told me you had the perfect idea for Carl’s birthday. And when I got here, you were on the floor drunk. I showered you, not fun.” She snorts, scrubbing the couple of dishes in the sink.

“Did you put these shorts on me?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Yes.” She nods, heading for the door. She turns on one foot daintily and gives him a smirk. Eyes dropping to his crotch and back up, “and I really don’t understand the hype. It’s not that big.” He just laughs, leaning against the hallway wall.

“Bah, you’ll sing a different tune someday.” He crows, wagging a finger at her.

“Shut up, Walsh.” She chuckles, grabbing the handle and heading outside.

“Hey, slow up a minute.” He coos, heading towards her. Cornering her against the door, he leans in, his breath warm against her face.

“Walsh, what are you doing?” She asks, looking up at him through her lashes, her cheeks flushing red.

“Ssh ssh ssh.” He hushes, putting a thick finger against her lips. Instinctively her tongue swipes against her lips and his finger.

“Shane.” She whispers, careful where she put her hands. Planting them on his chest was the wrong move. He leans his weight against her now, her hands pressed into his chest.

“Sweet girl, I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world. I love you.” He whispers, getting so close to her lips his ghost across hers.

“Walsh, I need you to take a step back.” She whispers, pushing him gently away.

“Why? Can’t you see that I’m in love with you?” He asks, looking to her with glossy, dark brown orbs.

“Because you are still drunk and tomorrow you’ll have that cock slamming into some other whore, so I’m sorry Walsh, but your drunk ass is not kissing me.” She steps out and shuts the door. Leaning against the cool wood door to breathe, she hears a thump behind her.

“I love you sober.” He whispers, sending chills down her back.

Carl’s birthday party was at one, and she was there at eleven with the cake. When she got there, Shane’s Jeep was parked in her spot. Typical Walsh.

“Walsh! Your Jeep is in my spot!” She shouts, seeing Shane’s curly top poke above the sofa. He jumps to his feet and her breath hitches in her throat. His sheer size and chest width made her heart patter, but the button up half buttoned and the denim clad thighs. The silver necklace around his neck placed perfectly against his chest.

“What’s the matter?” Shane asks, looking at her and winking.

“N-nothing. Walsh, can you help me?” She points over her shoulder toward the door. His smirk is sexy and sweet, her eyes drinking him in as he saunters out the door. “The uh, the cake-here.” She slips between him and the door of her honda pulls it out. Carefully handing it off to him as her arms start to shake.

“This all you needed?” He asks, eyes drifting to her as he tries to hide a smile. His eyes drink her in; that yellow floral sundress riding high on her thighs, the sandals on her feet, her curls falling over her shoulder.

“Yeah, of course it is. Thank you. At least you’re good for something.” She chides.

“Better be careful, lady! I’ll drop this cake!” He threatens, calculating a wobble in his step.

“Walsh, if you drop that I promise you I will drop you.” She giggles, pulling open the door.

“Ooh, do it baby. I wanna see you try.” He chuckles, daring her to do it. Sitting the cake on the counter, she heads out to her car to get Carl’s gift. Shane follows her out this time, his hand slips down and grabs her ass, gripping tight.

“Shane!” She jumps, holding her breath.

“What baby? You don’t like that? Sh, I know you do. I love you. And I meant that shit. I can’t explain to you how it felt to kneel in your blood and hold you, not knowing what to do.” He whispers, shivering at the trauma.

“Shane Walsh. Stop it.” He leans her into her car and presses his lips firmly, sweetly, promisingly against hers.

“Just say it. You were right.”

“Aw thank you Walsh, I knew I was right.” He pushes her into Rick and Lori’s garage, pulling the door shut behind them. He drives her against the wall, lips soft and sensual against hers as he holds her against him.

“I saw how you were looking at me earlier. You wanted me.” He huffs into her ear as he lets her hands drift across the bare part of his chest.

“Yeah. No shit. I think you're hot.” She stammers, yanking at Shane’s shirt.

“That’s a first.” He coos, wriggling his knee between her legs. “I think you’re hot. Sometimes when I bang other women, I think of you.” She’s taken aback for a moment before she just laughs.

“Shane, shut up.” She grinds through her teeth as she hooks her arms around his neck and tugs his lips to her neck. His lips go to work and her hands massage his bare shoulders. Shane gets them into a spot between the shelves and totes where they couldn’t be seen and he lets her scoop up her skirt and he grabs her panties. When he pulls them down he chuckles, the same black panties he’d teased her about.

“Goddamn you are beautiful.” He hushes as he leaves open-mouthed kisses across her exposed collarbone and up her neck. He stops on her lips, pressing a hot, delicious kiss there.

“Shane. Will you please do your job and fuck me?” She nips through shivers as he takes his time. Her fingers fumble with the belt and she undoes his jeans in record time. Sliding into her, he takes his time to get comfortable firsrt, before his thrusts are fast and hard, a hand covering her mouth because currently there were about twelve little kids inside screaming. “Shane. Shane please.” She whines softly, gripping his hair as he drives up into her, legs quaking as she reaches her orgasm, she grips his ebony locks so tight his scalp starts to tingle, but he likes it. Ramming into her as she clenches and spasms around him, making his heart slam hard into his chest before he sinks into her once more, spilling his hot seed in her. Slipping out with a soft groan, he tucks himself away and tugs . his shirt back on, buttoning it up like before. Half open shirt, necklace hanging around his neck and his heart still pounding, he looks to her to find her still leaned against the wall, eyes closed and breathing heavily. Leaning forward, he grabs her waist and pulls her against him. Gingerly pulling up her panties, he pulls a dark blue hankerchief from his pocket and wipes his seed from the inside of her legs before pulling her panties on the rest of the way. Her arms around his neck, he stuffs the kerchief back in his pocket and starts to hum, swaying with her.

“I do love you.” He coos in her ear, his wide hands splaying to cover almost her whole lower back.

“I love you too, Walsh.” She giggles, softly sighing as she sifts her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Will you quit calling me Walsh? At some point, when we’re married, people will think it’s weird if you’re still calling me Walsh, and not Shane. Or hunny. Hunny works, or baby. But not Walsh.”

“Hey Shane? Get used to it. It’s hard to even call you Shane. I just wanna throw insults at you but it seems wrong now, cause like Walsh dick really is that good.” She laughs, letting him kiss her face; her cheeks, her nose, her lips, and her favorite, he places the gentlest kiss on her forehead and adjusts her dress before he checks his watch.

“It’s twelve-fifteen, baby.” He whispers, sending chills down her back.

“Goddamn it, Walsh. You truly gotta ruin everything.” She whines heading back into the the house through the back door that leads into the kitchen. Lori’s eyes meet hers with a knowing grin as she hands Kennedie some plates and a basket of silverware. Screeching kids come flying into the kitchen in party hats and swimming trunks all kinds of different colors.

“Carl! Not the kitchen!” Lori yells as she grabs a bowl of pasta salad.

“Sorry mom!” He shouts, racing into the living room. Shane’s hand grips her ass as she walks passed the grill with her hands full and she gasps, eyes burning into him as he grins and he and Rick laugh.

“Those two are trouble.” She huffs to Lori as she sees her best friend chuckle with the men. “You too?” She asks incredilously, staring at Lori as though she’d been betrayed.

“Hey Lori! I’m just dropping off Gavin!” A sweet, high pitched voice calls. As she looks to see who it is, Shane stiffens and holds his breath. “Hi Shane.” She coos, giving him a sultry wave. He nods back and wraps his arms around her waist.

“Let it go. I love you.” He whispers into her ear as he holds tight to her, his lips pressing into her neck.

“Shut it, Walsh.” She nips, slipping from his grip and stepping into the house to breathe. He follows closely behind, stepping in with her and leaning her against the door.

“I love you, don’t you get that?” He coos, thumb smoothing her cheek.

“I just--it feels surreal, Shane.” She whispers, letting him pull her against his chest.

“Listen to me, baby. I love you. The minute you shot back at me with insults I was done for. It was infuriating, it was beautiful. And you packed me lunch like some kind of domestic, sweet little house wife, and don’t take offense to that, but I loved it. Every minute. I was the proudest man in King County to go to work with your pink lunch box in the passenger seat of the cruiser. I wanna marry you. I wanna marry you and--and--get old with you. I love you, you fiesty lil thing.” Tears fall down her face as she grips his face and kisses his lips warmly and happily.

“I love you, Shane. I love you so much.” She coos, hugging his neck.

[jungle321jungle]

Something Worth Stealing: One

“What do you think?”

Truthfully Virgil was terrified at the very prospect. There was a reason each nanny didn't last long, and Virgil had heard enough horror stories about the Ackroyd boys to avoid them at all costs when he had worked in the past. Hell the only reason he still got some to come in now and then was because the job was so high paying. Mr. Ackroyd knew exactly what he was doing advertising with all those zeroes, he was reeling in any nanny who would skip talking to peers at the sight. And now by some twist of fate that very bait was dangling above Virgil, and even worse there wasn’t anyway he could feasibly afford to ignore it. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked the man in the eye, “I think it is more than a generous offer that I would be happy to accept.”

(Virgil becomes the newest nanny for his very attracti- for Logan.)

Taglist: @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar @why-do-you-care @hogwarts-my-love

Ao3 - Masterlist

One

Virgil bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming out in frustration. He crossed the room briskly once more as he wondered- not for the first time, why was even here. Quite frankly Mr. Ackroyd should have fired him on the spot, so why was he just casually in the man’s office as if nothing was wrong? Was this a test? Leave him in the office full of expensive items to see if he’d be bold enough to try and steal one? That was the only way this would make sense, he was being tested and then if he passed maybe he’d only be fired rather than being sued or jailed. If it wasn’t that then maybe he was going to be made an example of. He’d be told off both here and in front of the rest of the staff later so no one would ever fall to Virgil’s level of stupidity ever again.

Virgil’s pacing slowed to a stop as he forced himself to take a deep breath. Now that he knew the two most likely options for the situation he’d need to practice and edit his apology six- no eight more times before his boss walked in. Mr. Ackroyd didn’t often show much emotion but maybe if Virgil repeated his sorries enough one would get through to the man and he would accept that Virgil had been more than an idiot.

“Virgil.”

The sound of his name sent a shiver up his spine as he jumped in place and turned eyes wide to where Mr. Ackroyd had entered. “Ah- hello sir...”

“Sorry, did not mean to startle you,” the man said simply as he moved to sit behind his desk. “Thank you for coming in early, and do take a seat.”

Virgil’s legs felt like led but he forced them to move forward and in what felt like robotic motions he sat. When he had Mr. Ackroyd spoke, “Now there is something I’d like to speak to you about.”

“I’m so sorry about yesterday!” Virgil blurted. “I should have never even touched your things, much less tried to steal it. I am so so so sorry! If there is any way I can make up for it-”

“While I did want to talk about my watch, and the apology is appreciated I do have a few questions.”

Virgil cut himself off and tried to regain his composure, “O-of course.”

“Why did you take my watch at all?” he asked simply. “You’ve worked here for years and I have never had an issue with you, and yet randomly yesterday you do something as out of character as attempting to steal from me. I assume there must be a catalyst for this behavior? A monetary one perhaps? Or was this just a sudden change in you?”

Virgil’s mouth felt dry as it opened and closed but with a pinch to his own leg he forced himself to function enough to speak. “It was semi spur of the moment- it had never crossed my mind to do something like that ever before!  But it wasn’t me being ungrateful or anything! This job is great I just um, well I- I...” Virgil gave a sigh and let his head hang as his hands balled into fists with frustration at himself, “It-it was money related yeah... things are- are harder right now...”

“How so?”

Virgil took a deep breath trying to steel himself best he could before he spoke, his gaze on his boss’ desk rather than the man’s face. “My half sister has a kid, and she’s stuck in a really bad situation and needed her son out of it. So... so I took him in. And well great kid as he is, I’ve never had to pay for this much before. I truly am sorry.”

“And so you teach him to steal?”

“I’m sorry.”

The silence which covered the room was heavy, only broken by the sound of Mr. Ackroyd’s finger tapping on his desk which managed to increase Virgil’s heart rate more and more. But when the sound stopped entirely, Virgil couldn’t help but bring himself to look upon Mr. Ackroyd’s face. “Virgil I trust you understand I cannot have someone who steals from me cleaning my home.”

Virgil’s heart, his lungs, and everything else plummeted to his stomach with those words, and then they proceeded to keep falling until they landed at his feet, leaving Virgil with only an empty and hollow feeling. “I understand,” he replied quietly.

“As such I suppose it is a good thing that no one outside of this room knows what you have done.”

“Sir?” Virgil asked, he wouldn’t get his hopes up yet.

“I think I have a solution to both of our problems Virgil, that is if you never even consider stealing from me again.”

“Never,” Virgil said quickly.

Mr. Ackroyd gave a nod. “On your end I assume a bulk of what you make goes to different forms of child care given your early mornings at your other job and late nights here?”

When had he even mentioned to the man having a second job? “Y-yes, I pay for both before and after school.”

“I assume you have heard that my newest nanny quit?”

Virgil gave a slow and confused nod as he tried to get a read on that unchanged face, “Yes.”

“They come and go quickly,” he sighed, “My older two can be a tad unruly. But if you would like to alleviate your childcare costs and work one job rather than two, then you can become my nanny. And while caring for my boys you can also watch over your nephew. Oh and of course the salary is more than enough. What do you think?”

Truthfully Virgil was terrified at the very prospect. There was a reason each nanny didn't last long, and Virgil had heard enough horror stories about the Ackroyd boys to avoid them at all costs when he had worked in the past. Hell the only reason he still got some to come in now and then was because the job was so high paying. Mr. Ackroyd knew exactly what he was doing advertising with all those zeroes, he was reeling in any nanny who would skip talking to peers at the sight. And now by some twist of fate that very bait was dangling above Virgil, and even worse there wasn’t anyway he could feasibly afford to ignore it. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked the man in the eye, “I think it is more than a generous offer that I would be happy to accept.”

Mr. Ackryod gave a slight yet pleased smile, “Then I will see both you and your nephew here early Monday morning.”

“Y-yes sir.”

The large mansion seemed to loom over Virgil in a way it never had before, and yet all he could do was climb out his car and resist the urge to puke. There was just too much riding on a job which seemed destined to end in pitiful failure. He had been forced to quit his job at the cafe so suddenly too (not that he held any joy for that job), but if this went south quickly he had no fall back. Maybe he should start looking for new jobs when he gets home just in case?

“How long are we gonna stand here?” Janus yawned beside him.

“We’re going in now,” Virgil told him moving forward towards the door. And then before he could falter more he inserted the key he had been given in the lock and stepped in the entryway, to lock eyes with Mr. Ackroyd.

The man glanced up from the laptop in his hands before he shut it, “Twelve minutes early.”

“Good morning sir,” Virgil started awkwardly trying to resist the urge to ask how long his boss had been standing there waiting. “This is my nephew Janus. Janus, this is Mr. Ackroyd.”

“Hi,” Janus waved. “Do you have orange juice?”

“Janus.” Virgil cut in immediately, but Mr. Ackroyd gave a chuckle.

“My boys drank the last of it with breakfast. Would you like apple instead?”

“Yes please!”

He gave a nod, “Then let's get you your juice. Virgil, the twins are in their rooms, hopefully getting dressed. I’d like you to start by getting them and Patton together and then you can bring them all to school. As for how the rest of the day will go, simply return here and care for Patton and then pick the boys up from school in the afternoon. Have them do their homework until dinner, I should be back around then. As for the general both daily and weekly schedules I have shared the Outlook calendar with you so you may review it later today. Understood?”

Virgil hoped how intimidated he felt didn't show on his face. “Yes sir.”

“Then get moving.”

Virgil didn't hesitate to hurry up the stairs and head in the direction he knew, but it was the sound of laughter which drew him to one room in particular, and after a deep breath, he knocked.

“Come in!”

Upon entering Virgil knew he should’ve just looked for another job.

The room was virtually destroyed and the culprits were in the midst. The younger of the twins, Remus, was jumping on the bed swinging about a pillow and letting its tiny feathers fly around and coat the floor. Roman meanwhile spun himself and the baby around in the falling feathers causing Patton to cackle with delight. But the older two looked his way as he entered.

“Hi Virgil!” Remus yelled. “Dad said you’re our new nanny!”

“Yeah...” Virgil said slowly, still recovering from the shock. “He also says you two need to get dressed for school.”

“In a sec!” Roman replied, raising Patton over his head.

“No, now,” Virgil tried stepping into the room. “You’re going to be late if not.”

The twins paused each watching him for a moment, before they looked at each other then back to Virgil once more. “We don’t wanna go to school,” Remus said finally.

Roman nodded in agreement, “We’re gonna be homeschooled now.”

“No you’re not. Your dad said-”

“Hey Virgil, why aren't you a housekeeper anymore?” Remus asked, hopping off the bed. “I liked when you cleaned my room, I don't lose things when you clean it.”

“T-things change,” Virgil replied awkwardly. “But where are your clothes?”

Remus gave a vague gesture towards the closet, “I don't need clothes to be homeschooled. I can do it in my PJs.”

Virgil bit his tongue as he watched the two, but slowly an idea formed in his mind. “Do either of you know how homeschooling even works?”

“Yup. You get to do worksheets and hang out,” Roman answered. “We can do them while we watch TV.”

“Not exactly. We would do lectures and then worksheets for every class probably in the library all day. Given I’m not a teacher it would take longer to go over everything so the only break would be lunch. We also wouldn't have time for watching TV or for recess, and of course you can’t see your friends.”

Roman gave an awkward cough as he shoved Patton into Virgil’s arms. “Well I guess we’ll have to go to school until you learn how to teach.”

Virgil held in a sigh of relief as the two began the motions of getting ready which let him dress the Patton. But by the time he had gotten Patton to keep on his socks rather than throw them away he had heard shouting from downstairs. So with no other option he picked up the baby and followed the sound, but his anxiety grew as he heard Janus’ voice.

“Take it back!” Janus’ voice shouted and suddenly Virgil was moving much quicker.

“You first!” Roman yelled back.

“You!”

“You!”

That was the last clear word Virgil could make out, but then again words weren’t needed to explain anything when he walked in to find his nephew on top of Roman grabbing the other boy’s face. A curse escaped his mouth as he hurried forward pulling Janus away by the collar only for Roman to jump up and lunge after. He tried to position himself before the two feuding children and to think of a better solution, but with Patton having grabbed a fistful of his hair, and Remus chanting behind him for Janus to win it was kind of hard to focus on anything.

“I believe my instructions were to introduce yourselves.”

Mr. Ackroyd’s cool voice cut through the room’s chaos in an instant sending ice through Virgil’s veins. He hadn’t even managed to be a nanny for an hour and now he would be fired. He’d probably set the record.

“Are you leaving?” Remus asked like nothing was wrong.

Mr. Ackroyd studied the room for a moment before he moved closer to Roman and bent down. Taking his son’s face in his hands. “I am. But more importantly, Roman I see no reason to continue to pay for you to take karate if you get hit in the face.”

“It's his fault not mine!” Roman said at the same time Remus unhelpfully added,

“I didn’t get hit! And Sensei said I can get a new belt soon.”

“Flying up the ranks are you?” Mr. Ackroyd smiled at him as he stood and moved over to Janus and squatted down to the boy’s height. “Can you tell me why you hit Roman?”

As Virgil released his nephew’s collar, Janus moved a step behind Virgil before he answered the question, “He... he said my name was an old lady’s.”

The man gave a hum, “I see. Now while that was a mean thing for him to say, using your fists won't fix the issue. You need to use your words, okay?”

Janus gave a nod, “Okay... sorry.”

“Not to him,” Virgil put in. “And you need to say what for.”

Janus gave a frown but even so he turned to Roman, “Sorry for hitting you.”

“Roman?”

The older twin crossed his arms and looked anywhere but at Janus’ face, “S...sorry for making fun of your name.”

“Good,” Mr. Ackroyd nodded. “Now give me a hug so I can go to work. And Virgil before you leave, be sure to grab Roman an ice pack.”

Virgil gave a nod of bewilderment and disbelief, “Yes sir.”

While Roman and Janus didn’t seem to get along from the outset, somehow not long after getting in the car, Remus and Janus had decided they were now some of the closest friends. Not that Virgil would complain of course, if they were getting along that was good for him, even if Roman sat in a moody silence for a while. But said silence broke when Janus had been dropped off. It wasn’t ten seconds after the driver had pulled off that he spoke to his twin, “Why’d you take his side?”

Virgil looked behind him at the sound of Roman’s voice in time for Remus to give a shrug. “He’s fun.”

“He hit me!”

“And that was your fault.”

Virgil was about to let them bicker and talk things out amongst themselves when Remus’ appearance caught his eye. “Remus that’s not your uniform tie.”

Remus nodded in agreement, “It’s fish shaped.”

“I can see that, but you’re supposed to wear the one that goes with your uniform.”

“That one is boring.” He looked between Virgil and the strange tie (why did kids even need to wear ties?). “Do you not like it?”

“It’s certainly... different. But I think you should wear the other one.”

“But I wanna show my friends this one.”

“Then you can take it out when you get to school. For now please change it.”

Remus gave a groan and sunk in his seat, but ultimately the nine year old did as he was told.

~~~

After the chaotic start to the morning, the mansion seemed so quiet and calm when Virgil returned. He half expected chaos to descend as the time wore on, but caring for Patton wasn't as hard as he had anticipated. The ten month old was not only adorable but he was pretty good in the sense that he didn’t really seem to cry or complain. He simply played with his little toys and babbled at Virgil (who took multiple pictures and videos to send to Mr. Ackroyd). He had been nervous at first. His only experience having taken care of a baby being those off times his sister had dropped Janus off for a night. But he had made it through the day without anything going wrong. So of course it did in the car.

He and the driver had gone and picked up Janus without issue. He had climbed in the car and instantly began talking about his day in the loudest voice he dared so not to wake Patton. It all seemed fine, until they picked up the twins.

“All day all I got were people asking me what happened to my eye!” Roman whined. “And it’s your fault!”

Janus gave him a bored look as he gestured to the scar on his face, “You get used to it.”

If the shouting which ensued was any clue, Roman didn’t care for Janus’ statement. Virgil was half turned around in the front seat as he tried to beg them to quiet down, but it was too late as Patton woke up, bursting into tears as he did. Not that the older three children seemed to notice. They carried on yelling at one another and reaching across the seats to grab a hold of one another.

“That’s enough!” Virgil interjected. “You two need to-”

“I need to kick him!” Roman interrupted.

Janus stuck out his tongue in reply, “And then I’ll kick you back three times as hard!”

“Oh yeah? Then I'll punch you!”

“I’ll just-”

“Shut up!” The harsh and loud words were out of Virgil’s mouth before he could stop them but he certainly didn’t regret it. “Roman,” he started firmly. “You will get along with Janus. And Janus you will get along with-”

“But he-”

“I don't care and I don’t want to hear it! I’m not asking for your opinions, I'm telling you what’s going to happen. The three of you are going to get along without fighting and arguing how starting right now. This pointlessness has already cost you all your electronic privileges for the evening, and if it continues more things will be taken away.” He paused and looked in each of their eyes before he spoke again. “Is that clear?”

Three identical looks of confusion and surprise stared at Virgil before each of the boys mumbled an agreement and after some probing an apology too. When they had Virgil gave a satisfied nod, “Roman calm Patton.”

“Where do you two usually do your homework?” Virgil asked after the twins had changed.

“Wherever we want,” Remus shrugged. “Can we do it in-”

“You can do it in the library,” Virgil decided for them. “Do you all have lots of homework?”

“Lots of reading,” Roman groaned as they walked. “And the book is bad!”

“Then read it quickly.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Are you sure?”

“Uncle Virgil will you help with my fractions again?” Janus asked him. “I still don’t get it. I don’t like it either.”

Virgil gave a slight smile as he ruffled Janus’ hair. “Of course I’ll help.”

Homework time went surprisingly well. It seemed since Virgil’s outburst in the car the boys were trying to be on their best behavior. But he wouldn’t complain about that. Instead he gave the boys help on anything they needed while he ate crackers and bounced Patton in his lap.

“This is the quietest I think homework time has ever been.”

At the sound of his voice everyone turned to see Mr. Ackroyd. There was a pause before Roman was out of his seat and hurrying to give his father a hug. “You’re home early!”

“I am,” he smiled hugging his son. “My meeting was moved until tomorrow. So I’m here early.” When Roman didn’t release him, he awkwardly maneuvered to the table to pull Remus in for a hug as well. “How were they?” He directed at Virgil.

Virgil paused, “They were... they were good. Especially Patton.”

Mr. Ackroyd gave a laugh as his boys released him and he reached for the baby. “For some reason, I wasn’t particularly concerned about him.”

“How were they, really ?” Mr. Ackroyd asked as he walked Janus and Virgil to the door.

Virgil gave a slight smile, “Well today was certainly chaotic , but I managed. It took me losing my temper though.”

“And that’s fine. I find my previous nannies were afraid to be stern with the boys. In one day you have found that doesn’t work. As such you have already exceeded my expectations.”

“Um, thank you sir.”

He nodded once, “Tomorrow we can talk in more detail for now enjoy your evening.”

“You too. See you tomorrow sir.”

“Logan,” he said simply. “We’ll be working closer together now.”

“Oh, um are you sure?”

“I’m the one who suggested it.”

Virgil looked down slightly in embarrassment, “Right. Um okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. Oh, and you may call me by my name too Janus.”

Janus gave a smile and wave as they walked out, “Bye Logan!”

~~~~

One - Two

[drakesroyalromance]

just crash (it’s our time now)

Pairings: Drake x MC (Riley Brooks), Liam x MC (past/mentioned)

Rating: G

Note: This is a canon-divergent AU that takes place during TRR book 2, chapter 11. (The chapter in the Opera House) Riley has been exclusively with Liam before this point and Drake never expressed how he feels.

Tag list: Drake x MC: @aries-light @notoriouscs

This fic: @nightbnd @brightpinkpeppercorn @i-miss-trr @thequeenofcronuts @iplaydrake @rhymesmenagerie @drakesensworld @mrsfox79 (If you want to be removed from the tag list, please just let me know! There will be no hard feelings, especially since it’s been like an year since I last updated this)

Chapter 01

After Queen mother Regina leaves, Riley sits down to collect her thoughts. It is a revelation that she knew was coming but refused to accept, but now there’s no turning a blind eye to it anymore. Not after what Regina just told her. Constantine is behind the plot against her.

Just thinking it makes her heart beat faster, and her head spins thinking about how Liam is going to react when she tells him. Will he believe her? Will he side with his father, not wanting to be with her anymore? Does she even want to come between him and his father?

She shuns that last thought as soon as it enters her head. She did not do this, Constantine did, and she’s not going to blame herself for his actions. Any anger or resentment Liam may have towards Constantine when she tells him the truth, Constantine brought onto himself.

[[MORE]]

And as for the rest of the doubts racing in her mind, well, she supposes there’s only one way to get rid of them. With that goal in mind, she stands up to go meet Liam in the box he said he would be in. She begins climbing the stairs, but when she reaches the hallway leading to where Liam’s waiting for her, she sees Bastien standing in front of the curtains, one arm crossed, the other on the earpiece he’s wearing. When he sees her, his expression turns somber.

“I’m sorry, Lady Riley,” he says, and for whatever it’s worth, which isn’t a lot in her book, he seems to mean it.

“For what?” She asks. She doubts that he’s apologizing for the role he played in the plot against her. Constantine’s plot against her.

“I need you to come with me. His Majesty Constantine wants to speak to you.”

She feels cold, dreadful fear and takes a couple steps back. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she says, with all the confidence she can muster.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Bastien says in a low voice. Something clicks in her mind.

“Liam doesn’t know that you’re here and doing this, does he? That’s why you’re waiting outside the box and talking so low. You don’t want him to know.”

His expression remains the same, he has been trained for this, she knows, but the way his eyes can’t help sliding to the curtains covering Liam’s box, as though making sure he’s still inside and can’t hear, tells her that she’s right.

Hope springs in her chest. If she just screams for Liam, then everything will be okay -

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Bastien tells her, knowing exactly what she’s thinking of doing. “Trust me when I say that you coming with me is the best thing for everyone involved.”

“Trust you?” She laughs, and it’s a bitter sound. “Liam, Drake and I, we did that before. It didn’t exactly work out so well for us.”

His eyes flash with hurt, and maybe it’s that that leads her to say what she does next: “Fine, I’ll come with you. But if you think you can just murder me and nobody will ever know, think again. I have Liam’s number on speed dial and I’m going to call him if I feel like there’s even the smallest threat to me or my mortality.”

Bastien nods. “Understood, my Lady. That is more than fair. However, I must warn you that if you decide to use your phone to communicate with one of your companions, I’ll have no choice but to confiscate it.”

“Fine,” she grumbles and follows him as he leads her to the limo. It’s a short ride back to the train, the entirety of it she spends trying to calm herself down.

Bastien leads her inside the train to where Constantine awaits her and as they walk, she notices that the train is completely empty right now, everyone either at the Opera House or exploring the city. The silence that it results in is eerie and makes her feel even more creeped out by the upcoming meeting.

Finally, they stop outside a large room in a corner of the train she’s never been to before.

Bastien asks her to head in, telling her that His Majesty is waiting for her.

She enters, and Constantine greets her with a nod of his head. “Lady Riley Brooks.”

“Constantine,” she replies, taking a seat on a chair opposite him. His jaw ticks in anger and his eyes narrow into a glare, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I assume you know why you’re here.”

“No, please, enlighten me.”

“Did you really think you could poke your nose around where it doesn’t belong and I wouldn’t find out?”

“Where it doesn’t belong?” She scoffs. “It’s none of my business to know who plotted against me, got me kicked out and stopped me from marrying Liam?”

“It shouldn’t have been. You should’ve left well enough alone,” he says. “Now, I’m afraid your investigation has gone too far.”

“Why?” She challenges. “Because now I know it was you, Liam’s very own father, who did all of this?”

“What I did or didn’t do doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does! It may not matter to you, but it matters to me, and it sure as hell matters to your son.”

“Liam doesn’t know what’s best for him,” Constantine says, his voice condescending and his words wrong. He stops, composing himself. “Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to explain or justify my decisions to you.”

“Fine, why did you bring me here?”

“I brought you here to make sure we’re on the same page. I wanted to make it clear that Liam cannot know that it was me who orchestrated these events.”

“Why not? Because you’re an entitled asshole who doesn’t believe in paying for his actions?”

“Maybe I am,” he replies coolly. “You see, when you’re King, you are entitled to certain things. A kind of protection, as long as the people believe you have their best interests at heart. And people knowing the truth about this, that wouldn’t look so good for me.”

“And I should care about that because..?”

“You should care, Lady Riley, because it’s not just my image that this news would tarnish. It’s the entire monarchy’s, and that includes their new King. They would lose their faith in him. And if this news gets out, I will make sure they know that I didn’t act alone. That their King Liam wasn’t as fond of you as he was made out to be, that he didn’t want you to be Queen any more than I did. But you were the people’s favourite, their beloved Mystery Woman. So one day, we agreed to get rid of you in the best way we knew how.”

She feels disgusted, and she doesn’t bother to conceal that when she reminds him,“But none of that is true.”

“Does what is true really matter more than what is believed to be true?”

Of course it does. But she knows just as well as him that it wouldn’t to the Cordonian people, and that’s exactly what he’s counting on.

“Or, there is a simple alternative. You, Lady, you keep your mouth shut, you get Liam to call off the investigation, and you stay away from him.”

She wants to punch him. She isn’t a believer or perpetrator of violence, but she feels an urge to punch him that is so strong that her teeth grind unconsciously. She knows that if Drake was here with her, Constantine would be out cold on the floor right now. It might not be the best thing for them in the long run, but damn it would feel good.

“He is your son,” she spits. “Would you really do that to him?”

“We both know the answer to that. The bigger question is, would you?”

She enters her room on the train, locks the door, falls in bed and promptly bursts into tears. This isn’t what was supposed to happen, none of this is. Everything has become such a mess. When did her life come to this?

She sits up in bed, wiping her own tears. She realizes she doesn’t even have the privilege of crying till she runs out of tears. She has to figure out how she’s going to convince Liam and her friends to call off the investigation so abruptly, when all of them are as dedicated to it as her. On top of that, she also has to figure out a way to break up with Liam without letting him know what’s actually going on. How is she supposed to look at him and say, Hey, I know we decided to sneak around while you’re fake-engaged to Madeleine because we’re so in love with each other, but now I don’t want to have anything to do with you romantically, and no, you can’t ask me any questions about why I’m suddenly doing this?

She needs to come up with a hell of a story.

After alternating between pacing and lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours, she comes up with either the best or the worst idea she’s ever had. Either way, this feels like her only way out and she knows that if she doesn’t immediately act on it, she won’t have the courage to. So, despite her phone telling her that it’s 01:52 am, she walks out of her room, heading straight for his.

She knocks on his door, having to wait a couple of minutes for him to open it. When he does, his hair is tousled and he’s wearing an extremely annoyed expression that dilutes slightly when he notices that it’s her at his door.

“Brooks, what the hell? It’s 2 am,” he says, his voice hoarse from sleep.

“I need to talk to you.”

He wearily looks her over and asks,”This can’t wait till the morning?”

“It can’t wait,” she confirms.“I need a favour, Drake.”

Steeling her nerves, she takes a deep breath before telling him, ”I need you to marry me.”

[smolbeandrabbles]

Good Goodbyes - Doug Peterson x Reader (Secret Men’s Business)

@mandy23b  @wltz-bby @happyskywhale​ #MendoTagSquad

GIF CREDIT: X

Author’s Note: Oh. Come on, that’s how they left it you knew I was gonna jump all over this! This was supposed to be a short prelude to the scenario I really wanted to write... As you can see... ‘short’ is NOT what happened.

Gosh, Doug Peterson really stole my heart 😅

This might be the only time that I suggest that you listen to a playlist while you read. Because Doug’s playlist is essentially THIS fic.

Disclaimer: Gif not mine / Lyrics not mine / Secret Men’s Business Characters/plot etc not mine I know I gave her an age - I just really wanted an Older!Reader dynamic, and also that’s around the age that dancers retire, so fits the canon of the story 😊

Premise: Doug Peterson is determined to start over. He knows he needs it, even deserves it, after what went on between his wife and best friend. Armed with his writing, his work and his dreams - Doug wants nothing more than to make this fresh start a good one.

Words: 10,018

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual Connotations / Insulin Warning 

__________ I thought goodbyes were never easy I should know by now, girl believe me I thought love would just leave me broke But I'm not, I can breathe, turns out you, set me free And I'm wishing, I'm wishing, I'm wishing you find all that you need And I'm hoping you find somebody who loves you more than me Yeah, it hurt me for like two weeks Don't expect tears when you see me, no This ain't a holding on as long as we Can 'cause this time there's no tears to dry This is a "Thank You, God" we got out of the mess we were in Baby just in time Who knew there was still light in my eyes? Who knew that you don't have to try And that you don't have to cry? Who knew there could be good goodbyes

I might miss you if you'd have been there or Given me proof that you actually cared but now There's no regrets, no turning back Already left you behind And I'm wishing, I'm wishing, I'm wishing you find somebody new And I won't have no trouble finding someone who loves me more than you Who knew there could be good goodbyes? Who knew there could be better times? Who knew I would feel so alive? Who knew there could be good goodbyes? ---

Yesterday I found out about you Even now just looking at you feels wrong You say that you'd take it all back, given one chance It was a moment of weakness and you said yes I should've been there, in the back of your mind I shouldn't be asking myself why You shouldn't be begging for forgiveness at my feet You should've said no, baby and you might still have me

I can't resist, before you go, tell me this Was it worth it Was he worth this

---

The car flew down the freeway towards Sydney. Sitting in the passenger seat was the box of writing that’d been there since he’d said goodbye to all his friends, and in the back his packed bags. The sun glinted on the high rises in the late afternoon – but the time didn’t bother him, he had a hotel room for tonight, and he knew a friend with an apartment he could rent until he got himself settled. Ali had tried to talk him out of leaving, but he wasn’t having it. How was he supposed to trust her ever again? And say he did, say he forgave her and attributed it to lonliness and a moment of weakness – what if she did it again? Cheat once and surely you could cheat again. And, he remined himself, it wasn’t a onetime occurrence. In fact, Michael and her cared about him so little that they were ready to have phone sex whilst he was in the goddamn house. What about the barbeque – wasn’t that openly flirtatious behaviour? He’d known then and done nothing… So he ignored her protests, and he packed up. He didn’t want to hear it, no excuse was ever going to excuse what she’d done to him; that his wife and his best friend had gone right ahead and broken his heart. He didn’t feel anything but empty now he was standing in front of her. And there was nothing more to say other than You’ll be hearing from a divorce lawyer shortly. She was devastated by that, but he wasn’t about to cry over her again. How much time had he wasted here? The one thing he did make sure to do was talk to his son. Dillon wasn’t quite old enough to understand exactly what was happening, and the main thing was making sure he knew it wasn’t his fault. Because he was going to fight for custody all the way. ‘Just let me get set up… and it’ll all be fine… it’ll all be fine.’ But for now he had to be out of that house, because God forbid he fell for her again – that he let her walk all over him. He wouldn’t let her and Michael treat him like that, nor laugh behind his back ever again. As he pulled into the city Doug Peterson allowed himself to smile, a genuine smile, for the first time in a long while. This was the start of something completely new; a place in the city, a new job, a new life… And he was determined to make it a good one. *** Several Months Later…

 Divorce proceedings seemed mercifully short. Doug wasn’t sure she’d have just signed away for him – although the custody battle was a little harder. Still, Ali was really a ‘the job comes first’ type and Doug made a good case. Apparently the better case, because that was agreed too, and in his favour. So now he got to be a single parent. And that wasn’t the only good thing happening for him; Doug had made decent money before, so moving into his own place came quickly. He had a home office, and therefore got to spend as much time with Dillon as humanly possible – finally able to love every second of his life. He made a bunch of new friends quickly, and at least phoned Andy every other week. Doug even occasionally checked in with Ian. He left Michael and Woz well alone for now; unsure he could really stomach those conversations yet. Andy always asked if he’d found anyone new yet; and Doug would always laugh nervously – could he ever date again? He thought it might take a long time to build that kind of trust up once more. For now, that scene was off limits and not for him. All he wanted to do was spend quality time with his son. But the business, that was important. He was well known in the advertisement industry; sure he’d never got the big break, but the people he did know were eager to fund him and get him off the ground. From this generosity DP Advertisements was born. Luckier still, Doug had managed to bring the majority of his client base with him. So when Dillion was at school, Doug threw himself into his work – and thoroughly enjoyed all aspects of it.

 Because the company was smaller it meant he got a lot of very interesting calls – the kind of jobs he’d never been able to do. Digital media and TV advertising wasn’t his only remit after all. Print, posters, billboards, website advertising – new for everybody – Doug got the opportunity to do a little of everything. He always liked meeting new prospective clients and finding out what they were looking to achieve before he said yes or no. He could just about afford to say no to anything he simply found too boring – but with his new attitude, Doug found everything pretty interesting. His newest prospect suggesting meeting in a restaurant – a lunch meeting, expensed. Suddenly he decided that it wouldn’t really matter what was pitched, because he was getting a meal for free – and at a well reputed restaurant no less. He was just a little nervous; they were well spoken, they’d seen some of his work around, liked the fact that he was a one person company (although Doug did mention his experience), and reached out to him through channels they knew at other agencies who would be able to say exactly whose work his was. Clearly they had done their research, and he had come well recommended. When the day came, Doug dressed in one of his best suits, and wore a tie, arrived early at the restaurant; maybe a little too early – but he was nervous enough to not want to be late. The restaurant was near empty; he supposed due to the exclusivity of it. Three girls sat at the bar with steaming cups – not day drinking then! - a business meeting was being conducted in a quiet corner, and two or three tables were having an early lunch. When Doug gave the name of the party he was meeting, eyes flew wide. He wasn’t sure what that meant and no words were spoken; they allowed him to sit at a table with a nice view. He set up, and recited to himself a pitch he knew off by heart – even if he didn’t exactly know what they wanted yet. But he found himself easily distracted, and before long Doug Peterson wasn’t looking at the view he should have been looking at; because he’d found one slightly better. He’d caught your eye too; it shouldn’t have surprised you, sitting with your two closest friends sipping tea, it wasn’t hard to miss the cutie dressed in a suit who’d just walked through the door. Even harder to miss when he kept stealing glances at you in the hope you wouldn’t notice; you were clearly slightly more skilled at being discreet. You could guess he was early 30s, maybe a little nervous about whatever he was here for. The folder seated next to him on the plush bench seats probably meant it was a business meeting. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it did mean – if you found yourself to be correct - he wasn’t meeting his girlfriend (or wife, but you hadn’t noticed a ring) for lunch before he went back to work. Eventually you let him catch you looking at him, after you’d pointed him out discreetly to your friends – who for once didn’t turn simultaneously to stare themselves – but did both give you the same look that amounted to Hot Damn. Devour Him. When his blue eyes met yours he froze – immediately looking like a little kid who’d done something wrong. But the smile you gave him was soft – and moments later you received a small smile in return that had you looking back to your drink. It’d been a while since you’d flirted with anyone. You’d had a series of bad breakups in your life and probably hadn’t really dated anyone for a long while. Flirting was easy and usually harmless, so across a quiet restaurant whilst you waited with friends, it kept things interesting. Even though he had to be younger than you were. He certainly looked younger than you; which didn’t bother you either, but you’d never been with someone younger… Still, it continued on through your waiting time, and as he got a little more confident, he suddenly looked a lot older. Darker glint in his eye, smile replaced by a smirk and the occasional lip bite that drove you a bit wild. Enough to make you turn away from him with a laugh to catch yourself for a moment; Damn. But you could flirt back just as intensely as he could, between running your tongue slowly over your lips, the occasional slow wink, skimming your fingertips around the rim of your cup, eyebrows raised with just the right tilt of your head. Doug wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, and why it felt so easy after he’d just spent so long telling his friends, and feeling, like he wasn’t ready for this yet. But it felt so natural, and you were responding in kind. Suddenly he was thinking that maybe he should get back into the game. If it was working on you - so much so it had pulled you away from your conversation with your friends - then maybe it’d work with anyone. You checked your watch, finished your cup and hugged and kissed your girls goodbye, picking up your bag from the floor you looked across to him again, with another smile you shook your head gently and crossed the restaurant. He was very nearly ashamed to say his heart leapt in his chest as you walked, your clothing was beautifully vintage, everything matched and even your walk was graceful – like you’d stepped right out of a daydream. He anticipated you to come to him – and yet Doug had never felt disappointment like when you didn’t, making your way to the door. Was that really it? You stopped at the greeting desk and there was politely animated conversation for a minute, before you turned and looked back across the restaurant at him again. “Excuse me, sorry, F/N L/N I’ve got a 12:30 booking for two people? You can just add the bar tab to the meal – that’s fine.” “Oh! Yes, of course Ms. L/N let me just check you in…” The maitre d’ turned back to her list for a moment, “OH! It appears the other half of your party is already here-!” “Huh? Oh, really?” She indicated across the room to the man you’d just spent the past half hour (at least!) furiously flirting with. You had to compose yourself before you turned back to him. No! Was it luck, or just your luck?! ‘My friends are gonna have a FIELD day!’ You thanked her, took a breath, allowed yourself to laugh and walked across to him. His lips parted as you approached his table, and Doug wasn’t sure that he liked that your face was unreadable. You unshouldered your bag and looped it around the back of the chair opposite him – before you beamed, “You’re Doug Peterson!” He immediately stood; “Y-Yeah! Oh, yo-you’re-!” “F/N L/N. Yes-! You’re not what I expected…” He held his hand out for you to shake, “I mean I-” He wasn’t sure exactly how to take that, so opted to simply shut up, but blush dusted his cheeks, and it made him look a lot cuter than he already was. “I think you already know that’s a compliment!” Your smile was polite, but you had no intention of taking your flirting any further. Not when what you’d called him about in the first place was so important. His laugh was nervous as you both seated yourselves and polite introductory conversation continued as you chose your meals, and it didn’t take much for you to persuade him into one glass of wine. Between courses Doug slid his portfolio from beside him and onto the table. “So I mean, I guess we’re both really here for this. As nice as it is to talk to you.” His grin was charming, and he knew precisely what he was doing, half of you wondered exactly why there was no ring on his finger. Who wouldn’t have taken up that opportunity as soon as it arose? And he didn’t seem like the headstrong business type who has married to his work. You couldn’t help but bite your lip through your smile as that, running the tip of your finger around your wine glass, “Yeah. I guess all I really said I wanted was advertising.” “Print. And a lot of it, by the sounds of things.” “Mhm. It suits the audience; posters, billboards and magazine print. These kids will be doing similar to what I used to, so-” You paused, “Right, yeah, I…” you laughed and Doug’s heart threatened to leap from his chest for just a second, “I should explain. I’m opening a dance company. Possibly a school, too, in time – I’ll be both director and choreographer. I need dancers for a company, or, prospective students!” His eyebrows raised, “You’re a dancer?” You smiled gently, “I didn’t think you knew a lot about ballet. That’s probably better for you.” “Ballet?” He shook his head, “I’m sorry. I- I wish I did. But, it’s artsy, I love the form and, pictures of ballerinas and dancers; that would be striking in any advert, let alone a ballet company. Which’d make sense. You still dance?” “Retired. Just…” You giggled gently, “Doug, I’m not just a dancer – to anyone in the circles I move in I’m the dancer. And now I’m at least semi-retired I want to give back to the profession.” You placed your hand over the portfolio; “I’ve seen your work, and it’s… incredible. Visually stunning and very well written. I know that my name is going to take this places… What I need is to partner with someone who doesn’t look at my name and have their eyes light up in dollar signs.” You pulled the folder off the counter and opened it, you were right, all his work was phenomenal, the way he used space, and colour – and he ran from comedic to serious; there wasn’t anything that Doug Peterson hadn’t covered. “You could have anyone.” “I don’t want anyone.” Your eyes met his again and for a moment the statement hung with more significance than you should have given it; “I want someone whose heart and soul comes alive on the page. Someone who is as passionate about what he writes, and what he visualises, as I am about the company and dancing.” You flipped the book around for him, “No corporation who would love to have my name on their client list would produce work like this, or care about it like you do. Which is exactly why I want you to do this, if you want to.” His nod was enthusiastic, “I mean, I might need a little help with the technicalities but, God, I’d love the challenge and the opportunity, Y/N.” First, he knew he’d have to look you up. He supposed everyone in the dancing community would know your name, and Doug would have to make it look like he did to. But research was always fun – and you’d give him all the support he needed. “Good, because I’d love to be the client of someone whose work is this amazing.” You passed the portfolio back, and held up your wine glass, “To our partnership, Doug Peterson.” “Yeah,” He clinked his to yours and smiled, “let’s make it a good one!”

You continued to talk, and Doug was almost disappointed that you acted so professionally. It was almost as if all the flirting was forgotten, although there was a sparkle in your eyes still, like it was hiding. However, he still admired that professionalism and, as you got to learn a little bit more about each other, he started to formulate ideas that he already couldn’t wait to mock up and show you. Doug still couldn’t help but flirt on occasion though; he liked the way you’d smile when he did it – he liked that you were actually interested in him, not just his work. Already he knew you’d be capable of great things together, and maybe not all of them would have to do with advertising. You both said goodbye far too soon, but you had each other’s cards and numbers. As he turned back at the door with a grin and said he already had a head of ideas, and he had to run before he forgot any of them, your heart actually skipped a beat. Doug couldn’t leave you without giving a wink, and took victory in the blush that crossed your cheeks before he strolled out of the restaurant. You gave it a few moments, watching him until he was out of sight before taking a deep breath and retreating back inside. Your friends were still sitting at the bar, by now finished with their own food, and both of them staring at you with raised eyebrows; “Tell me you knew!!” “I had NO idea I swear-!” You shook your head, “Was that mad-!? That was mad, right!? Does stuff like that really happen-!” “Typical of you though-!” “Thanks!” You blew out a breath and ran your hands through your hair; “…My god.” “You’re flushed!” “Thanks! I realised…!” You sat on the edge of one of the stools, “I haven’t felt like this since-” It wasn’t a thought you wanted, but an altogether incredible realisation. “So. He’s going to be your advertiser?” “Mhm!” You nodded, “He’s going home to mock up designs for me…” “Aw, c’mon, Y/N! Look atcha! What’s his name?!” You knew then as you turned to them and smiled, exactly what you were feeling; “Doug Peterson.” ***

You’d already got the studio set up, and a few other dancers - good friends of yours - were on your staff. Your current goal was the official opening, a couple of months away – hence the advertising project. It looked like a venture that’d been worked on long before you got Doug involved, the building largely refurbished and with a modern flare that offset your vintage look. He took photographs to get a good idea of what he was working with to meld with his mock ups – which you’d already seen and approved of. It didn’t take him very long to become more aware of you, and what Doug really wanted was you on the advertisement. “Is it cliché? I’d just like some classic ballet poses. Sure, I could just hire anyone – but it’d make more sense if it was you… even if it’s not your face.” Doug wasn’t so sure you wanted your face plastered on everything when your name already was. But you agreed to do it and he hired a photographer. He was well aware that he had feelings for you that maybe he shouldn’t. You were still his client at the end of the day and Doug wanted to keep it professional – but all he could think about was the way you’d been staring at him across the restaurant, and much as he tried he could never quite get it out of his head. All he wondered was if you had the same problem. Having you turn up to a photoshoot and watching the serene grace of classic ballet positions that Doug didn’t have a clue about until about a week previously – luckily, he’d hired a photographer who knew what they were talking about – was mesmerising; and he stood in flustered silence. By the time Doug was finished he assumed he was going to make a lot of people very happy at getting the opportunity to work with you. He walked you back to your car, explaining his admiration for your work and your strength, reeling off position names that made you quite proud. He liked that you were pleased that he’d studied you; at the cute way you giggled as he admitted just how much he’d researched. You started inviting him over to discuss ideas, and the first time Doug had pulled up in your driveway he’d been in awe of your house. Oddly humble for an ex-prima ballerina, and a little out in the country. It was also as modern as your studio had been, an upside-down house with stairs to the front door; “One day you’re going to have to explain why everything about you in modern aside from the way you dress!” Doug always did like that small mysterious smile you gave him, “Maybe I like that I’m hard to figure out…” You pondered it for a moment, before fixing him with the same significant look he was always giving you, “Having said that, maybe if you stick around for long enough you’ll answer your own question.” That was enough for him and in a more relaxed, and personal, setting as you got to know each other even better – professional was nearly thrown out the window. The entire campaign became a long string of endlessly flirty emails and texts, where often times one of you would have to throw in; ‘this is about the advert… right?’ The only response you ever gave to that was ‘Of course it is… or is it? 😉’ Which drove Doug crazy in every sense of the word. Yet his favourite place to be was with you, sitting up on your back veranda (which he also had to note overlooked a stunning valley) just throwing ideas around. Often you’d sit yourself on the wooden balustrade and ramble, with him lounging back in a chair with a sketch pad, and by the end of it he’d have filled up 5 or 6 pages with sketches or notes. But he was always back in time to collect Dillon from school, and didn’t overstay his welcome either. You’d keep him around if you could, but understood what was really important, even when all he told you was that he had to go and offered no further information. You knew private meant private and let him live that life. Before long he was showing you finalized drafts, and all that was left to do was pick which ones were going to print - on opening night flyers, or be seen all through the streets of Sydney. And that day made Doug dispirited – he didn’t want this to end so soon. “It’ll be weird not working with you on this…” “Oh?” You smiled, “What, you don’t think I’m going to call you every opportunity I get to have you do more advertising? I’ll need someone when we start doing shows and events.” He took his chance, with a confident deep breath; “Maybe you should just call me anyway?” You bit your lip gently, “Alright, maybe I will.” Although there was no maybe about it, you knew you would. You knew that was all you really wanted to do. You’d got closer and closer, and you felt comfortable around each other. Enough for you to finally be yourself; heck you’d even started dressing more relaxed around him. And one thing was for sure you couldn’t get the look he’d given you - and the way he’d swallowed hard - the first time you opened the door to him in shorts and a loose shirt, out of your head. Like you’d just stepped out of some kind of fantasy. A strange fantasy maybe, but then again you knew you were dressing down for him. You had both fallen pretty hard – even from that first restaurant conversation and you were certainly still falling for Doug now. For the first time in a while, you actually wanted to take a leap of faith with a guy. And it almost scared you how much you trusted him. *** Doug expected an invitation to opening night out of courtesy for the work he’d done. He could turn up and admire it for maybe an hour and then get back home. What he didn’t expect was a personal invitation from you, with a hand written note which left no doubt as to how much you needed him there and how much his hard work meant to you. In reality it was just a lot of words trying to express how much he meant to you. You weren’t so great at eloquence. You were trying to tell him that you couldn’t lose him, without sounding a little too desperate about it. As if you thought that was a possibility; like you didn’t recognise how much he swooned over you. Perhaps you still weren’t prepared to admit you knew he was interested – and Doug was just as hesitant. He didn’t want to rush into it, and yet he craved the intimacy of a relationship again. Even though he’d been divorced only months, it wasn’t like Ali and he had been close before it happened. He wanted someone to love him, but it wasn’t just a someone; he was still very iffy about the dating scene and he wasn’t about to go have a drunken one-night stand – he wanted that person to be you. Doug didn’t want to get hurt, yet, knew you’d be worth the risk. You looked stunning, and he had to physically stop to take you in for a moment. You always looked good, even when you were just sitting in shorts and a shirt with your hair pulled up – when, if the sun was on you for long enough, little freckles would start to appear across your face. Though that was an image he was probably privileged to see, Doug thought that was when you looked best. But your personality radiated warmth and light, and all he ever wanted was you closer. It went both ways – as you glanced across to him, dressed in a sharper suit than the one he’d been wearing when you first met and the smile that crossed his face as you caught his eye, Doug Peterson very nearly took your breath away. You excused yourself from the conversation you were having and crossed the room to him; knowing right then that you had to make this man yours – and you had to be his. Both of you blushed your way through the introductory conversation and you couldn’t help but turn to the room full of people admiring his work, because of course he’d put together designs and posters for some of your studio ideas too. And they were also on display, alongside photographs of the building’s transition; and some well-known images of your more famous roles. “Look at this-! It’s all you! And they all love it!” You couldn’t have looked happier, “I mean, I, I hope you’re proud of it.” “Yeah.” He agreed, feeding off your enthusiasm, “How many people can say they’ve had an opportunity like this? It’s…” Doug paused for a moment, “…Some of my best. Even I know that.” Then he turned back to you, “Thank you for the opportunity.” You shook your head, thinking it crazy that the designer should be thanking his client; “Thank you for making my crazy ideas a reality.” “Don’t mention it, it’s my job.” “Yeah but,” You turned back to the room, “you went above and beyond for me, I can never thank you enough.” He laughed, “At this rate, all you’re gonna do is thank me-!” “You’re right!” You joined his laugher, “But don’t expect me to stop on that account!” You spent your evening walking around the event with him, even when he thought excusing himself might give you time to breathe, to be the centrepiece you were meant to be. But you touched his arm gently to bring him back; “No, Doug, please… stay with me? I- I’d very much like it if you stayed with me tonight.” So he did, as you introduced him around, even when you were doing press you kept him near (except when he wandered to get drinks – and on a couple of occasions was accosted by those that wanted him to take on their advertising campaigns!), and made sure he got the credit whenever anyone gave you kudos for his work. How he’d simply take the compliment and give one to you in turn, and for a moment all you could do was look at each other and recognise the pink dusting your cheeks. Eventually Doug took a leap, even if it could have been of liquid confidence considering the champagne being served, and during one of these compliment sessions he reached out and took your hand. You didn’t pull away from him, you didn’t even flinch, instinctively lacing your fingers with his. That’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, with your smile even sweeter than it was before. And Doug got to stand beside you and watch his effect on you; hyperfixating on how it felt to have your fingers entwined with his – smiling so much his face hurt? You best believe it. After everything wound down, and Doug started to watch check (only because he thought the babysitters bill was going to be astronomical by now), you began to reflect on not just the evening, but the past few months. You got the feeling that you were going to be one of those couples that didn’t even have to say you were together – that you just would be, by mutual agreement. You collected your things and he held out his hand for yours again as you left, this time you held him tighter – desperate to savour every moment you got to be touched by him. “Some night, huh?” “Amazing. Now I guess the real work begins for me…” You chuckled, “I couldn’t have done it without the hard graft from you. I’m just glad it’s all been worth it.” “You can say that again.” Doug breathed it, eyes raised to the night sky and the stars glinting there, knowing that he hardly meant the campaign at all. You turned to him, to watch the way the stars reflected perfectly in his eyes and your heart swelled for a moment; how in the hell were you here? How did you just happen across this man? Nothing in your entire life had worked out this perfectly – so why him, and why now? And why in God’s name were you asking so many questions-!? He turned to you and the way you were looking at him, and slowed his walking pace; thinking it was about time he took that second leap. For some reason you were thinking too hard and didn’t even see it coming, as he leant in. You got so caught up that your question of what are you doing? also went unvoiced before his lips were on yours. And you wouldn’t deny him that either. Keeping your hand in his, you wrapped your other arm around his neck to practically beg him to keep kissing you. That gave Doug enough confidence to wind his arm around your waist to pull you closer. Neither of you wanted to stop, and yet it continued to get late and he knew that he really had to go. Breaking the kiss gently he kept close to you, and as your eyes met again you knew you were right. Together. No words necessary. *** It was late evening when your phone alerted you to a text message; ‘You home?’ You weren’t sure where else Doug expected you to be, so you told him you were. ‘Wanna come down to Js?’ J’s was a bar in downtown Sydney. Your eyes flicked to the time again, you could probably get down there in 30 minutes. ‘Sure, give me 30, are you okay?’ ‘I just don’t wanna drink alone.’ That was fair enough, but you could read him well enough to know there was something much more to it than that. When you arrived, Doug was clearly already a few glasses into a heavy night, and you just ordered whatever he was drinking – which turned out to be some pretty strong whisky. You waited for him to come to you with whatever it was, because you knew the real reason you were here wasn’t drinking. Doug took a deep breath; “Look I… I’ve just been thinking…” Thinking and drinking had never been a good combination, but right now it was your turn to listen to him, and only speak when your advice was wanted. You nodded in encouragement, and he took another sip. “I just- When we hang out we’re always out. You know, either in town like this, or at your place, or around where you live, but I…” he paused, “I think you probably deserve to know why, I just-” You lay your hand on his arm and rubbed affectionate circles, unsure why he’d think it mattered to you. Maybe he lived with friends, or he rented a one room place downtown, maybe he was embarrassed about such things – he knew how much you cared about him, right? Doug knew that you’d never judge a person on anything other than their own merit; or perhaps you just hadn’t made that clear. You were starting to want to kick yourself if that was ever the impression you’d given this sweet man. “Doug, whatever you tell me it’s going to be okay; I promise.” “Is it?” Though he seemed to be questioning himself more than you, “I mean you hear about things happening like this with single mums, but-” for a second you were caught a little off guard, because it seemed so out of left field for him to say. Suddenly you realised where he was going with this; Doug was in fact the single parent. “I mean, I live with my young son. So, I… I’m a single father just trying to figure this out. I- I mean I didn’t think I’d find someone as special as you so soon, and I-” He hesitated again. Stumbling over his words he threw back the glass, and you were glad the bar was dingy because you were positive that you were glowing as bright as a neon light now, “I just can’t bear the thought of losing you.” You shook your head slowly, “You can stop worrying about that right now.” You squeezed his arm gently, “I won’t leave over something like that, Doug, not ever. Sure, there’s a lot that comes with it but… God, I promise you. I’m sorry you ever had to come down here and worry about something like that!” He was staring at you almost in awe, like there was no way you could be saying this to him. And you wondered what that was, the alcohol? But something had driven him here to think it in the first place – and you found yourself with more questions you wished you could ask, but didn’t want to get too deep with: Who hurt you? Instead you opted for something to follow up what he’d already said; “Do you mind me asking what happened to her?” Doug had used the word single after all, and it was pretty recent you could pick up on that; “And, what’s his name?” “Dillon.” You smiled, that was a sweet name and you made sure to say that too, making Doug laugh. “As for Ali… Well… She cheated on me with my best friend. So, we got divorced.” You were stunned into silence for another moment, that Doug would just out and say it, but the look on his face and bluntness in his voice told you he wasn’t playing. Perhaps the whisky had a part in that; “…What… the… oh my god I’m so sorry-!” “I have sole custody of him and she’s got visitation rights, and that’s the way it goes.” You shook your head, finding yourself inexplicably mad – that explained that lack of ring you’d been curious about, though; “Okay this… this could be seriously crossing the line here – but what a freakin’ bitch! And oh my god, what an asshole – Doug, honey, you can do so much better…” you leant on the bar, wishing that you could find something better to say, “I mean you have me now. And thank god. Geez, babe, that sucks.” He stared at the bar for a second, and then propped his head up, hand on his brow – and suddenly Doug Peterson was pouring out months of history to you. How him and Ali didn’t even seem to be working anymore, but of course he wanted to hold on for his son, he wanted to believe there was still love there because he sure as hell still loved her at the time. And heck, maybe he should have known. But how he’d only ever been suspicious at the barbeque that one time and it all came to a head one weekend, when he caught them having phone sex, of all things. It was a hard thing to hear anyone say, let alone him. How he kept using the word ‘maybe’. Maybe I wasn’t around enough, maybe I was too focused on work, maybe I didn’t love her enough, maybe I didn’t try hard enough... You hated that it was so conditional and uncertain. “Baby,” You touched him reassuringly again, “if you have to use the word ‘maybe’ then she never told you, which means there wasn’t any communication. She didn’t even try to help you understand, she just went and did it. It is in no way your fault, or anything you ever did wrong. It was clearly more than once and he could have told her no! There’s no moment of weakness - it was continuous. Baby, you got out of there quick and I’m proud of you for having the strength to do that.” You found yourself not only hating two people you’d never met, but wanting to drive to wherever the hell they were and give them a piece of your mind. But there was so much else he was really telling you, and you had to stop him before he got to deep. In case he started saying things he’d end up regretting; before he was ready to say them. Instead you took him in your arms and pulled him closer; “Doug it doesn’t matter to me – who you are, or what’s going on, or why. Baby… I just know that I love you. For the first time in so long I actually… love someone.” You stoked a hand through his hair, kissing it, “And I promise, I’m going to love you better than she ever did.” You couldn’t help your small gasp, the joy in your heart as his arms wrapped around you, “I’m just so sorry this ever happened to you. Because no one deserves this.” “Maybe I do.” “Don’t you dare.” That only made you hold him tighter, “Whatever you’ve done does not warrant the betrayal of your wife and your best friend. You have your company now, and your life, and me, and more importantly than that, your son…” You continued to card your hand through his hair; “Which, really, warrants the only other question I have left.” “Which is?” He looked up at you curiously, and you grinned, “When do I get to meet Dillon?” *** He gave it a few weeks to settle; both the new information and for Doug to solicit with his son that he was seeing someone new. Of course, he’d told Dillon of your existence – especially seen as he liked to show his son what he was working on - but Doug wanted him to be alright with the idea of the two of you together before he brought you over. All it prompted from his son was questions, and Doug realised as he spoke about you, just how much he enjoyed talking about you – and the way even just thinking about you made him feel. Suddenly it wasn’t too early at all – it was all just perfect timing. He was meant to find something better, and he finally had. So when you did arrive on his doorstep right on time for dinner, dressed in pretty vintage as ever, all Doug Peterson did was fall in love all over again. “You look good.” “Aw!” You accepted his kiss, “Well, I could tell you I didn’t buy this outfit just to meet your son but… I’d probably be a liar…” You studied him for a minute, soft dark purple shirt and smart pants with his sleeves rolled up; Doug had brushed up nicely. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” “Ah! Well you know, good first impressions and all that.” He led the way through to the kitchen, “Right this way…” admittedly you were impressed with the house too, it was comfortable, and you instantly felt at home. “…Don’t trip over the child.” You were about to ask exactly what he meant; only lying in front of the oven was a 7 (though as he would say later “nearly eight!!”) year old kid. Doug raised an eyebrow at you, “Apparently it helps cookies bake faster, and who am I to argue with that logic.” “Cookies?” You were a little amused “Yeah. We, well, he wanted to make you cookies, so we made you cookies.” “Aw.” “Only we lost track of time trying to decide what dinner was gonna be, so they’re still baking. Hey, Dillon, I know you want them perfect but you should really meet the lady they’re for, huh?” At this Dillon leapt from the floor and turned to you, face immediately lighting up, “Y/N!” “Hey, Dillon!” You crouched slightly as he ran to you for a hug; “I’m sorry they aren’t done! Dad said we had time-” “Would be my fault.” Doug scoffed folding his arms. “-So we don’t have time to ice them.” “Oh, that’s okay.” You smiled, “It’s very sweet of you to make them for me – thank you!” You nodded back to the oven, “Go on, you go make sure they’re perfect.” He returned your smile sweetly, “Thank you!” and resumed his position on the kitchen floor. Doug shook his head, “Have you ever heard of putting icing on chocolate chip cookies, though?” You laughed, “First time for everything-!” “God help us. Now, wine?” “I would love a glass, thank you.” Whilst the cookies were left to cool, the three of you sat down to dinner – apparently the two of them were very into cooking. “It’s the new hobby – if we aren’t outside playing soccer, its in the kitchen cooking.” - which meant they’d made the meal together - “Well, I’m not irresponsible!” Doug explained, “He did the easy bits, you know.” That only made you laugh, as if you thought he would be an irresponsible parent at all. Also, Dillon seemed a little disgruntled at being discredited by his dad. But he liked telling you about all his favourite things, which only made Doug beam at how much interest you took; So who is your favourite team?... OH! Yeah, no, they’re doing pretty good this year!... What’s your favourite school subject?… Oh man, that sounds hard I don’t think I could do that… But Dillon was also interested in you; “Dad said you were a dancer.” “I retired, yeah. I mean I’ll probably still do a little here and there, but my prima-ballerina days are over.” “He showed me pictures; it looks very difficult.” “It takes a lot of practice, that’s for sure, a little like your soccer does. Same kinda strength involved but in a different way.” “But I thought retirement was for old people?” Doug gave him a look, “Dillon.” “No – It’s okay! 35 is ‘old’ for a dancer, you know? We do a lot of practicing and rehearsals, and then sometimes it’s two shows a day! Then there’s touring… It takes a lot out of your body.” Dillon’s eyes flicked between you and Doug; “So you’re the boss here.” “What-!?” Doug folded his arms and narrowed his eyes slightly at the logic (or lack there of). “She’s the oldest, that makes her the boss.” Seemed logical. You looked to Doug, and winked “HA! I’m the boss.” But this sweet family banter continued on through dinner, and dessert – although apparently the cookies were for an undisclosed time of later - and honestly you didn’t think you’d ever had such a good time on a date ever. Here you were getting two cuties for the price of one date, whether they knew that or not. They were so alike it was highly amusing for you to watch them joke with each other or bicker; all it left you realising was you’d lucked on an incredible thing. You weren’t sure you knew many people who had dated someone with kids. And although you’d never planned on ending up in such a situation yourself, you thought that those who never had were missing out. It got later and later, and to the point where you thought you should really be heading off; ���No, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to go. We have a spare room – and I’m a little worried about how much you’ve drunk and I could never. Stay, it’s fine, you can stay over!” “Oh no, I should go home.” You’d been paying attention to your drink intake and you knew you’d be fine, although it was sweet of him to offer. But Doug took your hand, his eyes very nearly pleading with you; “Please stay, for us.” “We want you to stay, Y/N, pleeeeeeeeease?” You looked across the table to Dillon, surprised to hear his voice; killed instantly by the fact that they were both giving you the same look. “How… how am I supposed to deal with both of you-!?” That didn’t make things any easier, and you couldn’t help but break, with a smile; “Okay, okay… I’m going to stay.” “AH!” Doug turned and they high-fived each other; “We got her, bud!” And you meant it. You were going stay, and you were going to be his, and only his. You were never going to let either of them get hurt again – and that you were going to promise. *** “So, do you want to watch something. Cuz, I figure the cookies aren’t gonna wanna be eaten alone, you know we need a movie or something.” You laughed, leaning on your hand, “That sounds like a good suggestion, Mr.Peterson.” Doug’s smile was bashful, but he turned to Dillon, “You go and pick one, mate!” Immediately the little boy scrambled from his seat and ran off into another room. “We have a wall of movies; I think you’ll like it.” “Oh really?” You had to admit he’d piqued your interest. “Yeah. He’ll only pick the same one I’ve been forced to watch 300 times this week – don’t worry, I won’t give you spoilers…” He tipped back on his chair and, making sure that Dillon wasn’t coming back any time soon, Doug took your hand, running his thumb affectionately over the back of it, “Hey, you’re doing really well. I know he like’s asking a lot of questions but, thank you for interacting with him like this it… means a lot.” “Are you kidding?” You were beaming, “Dillon’s adorable!” You tilted your head, “A little like his dad.” “Oh, okay,” Doug chuckled, but you could already see the blush rising in his cheeks, “you stop!” You felt yourself smirk a little, “Maybe you should kiss me to make sure I do.” Doug’s blue eyes turned suddenly playful; “Heck, I’m just gonna kiss you anyway.” And so he leant across, brushing his lips to yours, and tasted just as sweet as he was. Your kiss was only slightly interrupted by the sound of Dillon running back into the room and you broke apart to turn to him; “THIS is my favourite!” He held it out for you to see, and the look on Doug’s face told you that this was indeed the movie he’d seen 300 times. “That’s cool with me!” “Awesome.” Doug pushed out his chair and stood, “Dillon go set it up, I’ll clear up.” “Don’t forget the cookies!” “I won’t forget your cookies…” Then he nodded to the couch, “Go on, you go relax.” “I want to help.” “Nuh uh, you’re the guest, sit down-!” “Alright…” You held up your hands, which only made him cackle and turn back to his son, “See! She’s the boss my ass-!” You couldn’t help shaking your head after him, and allowing your eyes to flick down his body as he walked away, folding your arms; “You better be careful with that cute ass-!” Doug halted almost immediately and spun back to you, a little blushy and his mouth open; it was clear that his protest was ‘there’s a child present!!!’ but that he also knew full well he had started it. And to his credit, you didn’t see him complaining with your flirt. Once he’d cleared away Doug joined you on the couch. Winding his arm around you as you cuddled into him, and placed the cookies on the coffee table before offering you one. “They’re Dillon’s special recipe, so, all compliments to the chef.” You bit into one and couldn’t help the groan of appreciation, the consistency was just right for your taste – and so, compliments did indeed go to the chef. Dillon beamed at your praise, before he took a couple for himself and lay down on the floor again – Doug rolled his eyes. “Well, I thought getting him to sit to the table properly for ya was too good to be true.” That only made you giggle, “Aw, let him be a kid!” “You won’t say that later when he’s climbing all over you, I can tell ya!” That wasn’t necessarily true, but eventually Dillon did get bored of lying on the floor and pulled himself up onto the couch to sit between the two of you, opting to shuffle his body into the perfect position so that you could still cuddle. You and Doug shared the same ‘Oh! Okay!’ look of significance, before Doug pulled him onto his lap properly, “C’mere!” and in that position you all stayed for the remainder of the film. But Dillon did reach for your hand, and for a moment your breath caught – if there was one thing you didn’t expect from tonight, it was for Doug’s kid to just love you. For a moment you welled up and Doug definitely caught that, pulling you closer before kissing your hair – the significance was just as great for him after all. Doug couldn’t have wished for a better start to his new life. As the credits rolled Doug tapped his son; “Alright you, it’s way past your bedtime!” “No!” “No?! I’ll show you no! Come on-! Bed, now. You’re lucky you’ve been allowed to stay up this long! Be good and say goodnight.” Doug slipped himself off the couch, allowing Dillon to hug you tight; “But dad, I’ll miss her---!” Doug placed his hands on his hips and tried his best not to look exasperated; “Mate, c’mon, you’ll see her again in the morning.” “Ohhh…” Dillon pouted before hugging you again, “Goodnight, Y/N…” “Goodnight Dillon, thank you for dinner, and the incredible cookies!” He beamed once more, “Thank you! You may have the rest, dad’s not allowed any.” Doug sighed, before picking him up, “She’s dating me mate, I’m sure I can wrangle at least one more out of her! Now come on-!” By this time Dillon was giggling, “See you in the morning, Y/N!” “I said that!” “Just making sure she heard ya!” Doug grinned, which only made you smile, and joke with him “Oh thank god, this one might last long enough for me to see him again!” “Shut up! Don’t you be cheeky! I get enough from him-!” But he laughed and leant down to kiss you once more. *** Once Dillon was tucked up in bed, Doug rejoined you on the couch for another few glasses of wine, cradling your body close to his as every so often he would kiss your face and your hair. He was happy and relieved that you and his son got along, as you were amazed that Dillon liked you as much as he did; overjoyed in fact. Really tonight couldn’t have gone much better; and as you sat together talking, late evening ticked into early morning and you both agreed that you should probably get some sleep before the sun rose. As he also warned you that Dillon would be dragging you out of bed for breakfast as soon as he was able. He handed you a bundle of towels and blankets and some toiletries; “Spare room is down there… it has an en suite so you should be fine. Is there anything else you need?” “uhm, if I could borrow a shirt, or…” A cocky smirk crossed his face; “I mean, I didn’t think I’d get to see you in my clothes this early in the relationship, but…” You smacked his arm, “Stop!” “I’ll get you one, go get ready.” “If you’re trying to prove that I’m not the boss…” You gave him an accusatory look He held his hands up, “Oh I wouldn’t dream of it, my ass has been threatened enough!” You nodded as you walked up the corridor, and called back – “At least you know what’s good for ya… damn, you do have a nice ass though!” He didn’t say anything, but the silence told you everything, and Doug Peterson was a nice shade of red as he watched you disappear into the room. When you’d finished getting ready you opened the door to a soft dark grey shirt left on the end of the bed, which you slipped into, folding all your clothes neatly and placing them on the chair you decided to go wandering in search of a goodnight kiss, and say thank you of course, they really didn’t have to ask you to stay. His bedroom door was open when you arrived at, and you knocked politely “Oh! Hey! You alright?” Your immediate answer was probably no, considering he was shirtless – and your body’s reaction to that made you feel like you were about 20 years younger. “Yeah, I was just going to come and say goodnight.” By now Doug’s eyes were tracing you; it was big on him so it didn’t exactly reveal much – but it was still you in his clothing, and just a shirt – so your legs were on show, and damn, as a dancer… He blew out an audible breath and quite forgot where his train of thought was leading. Probably to a goodnight, but it wasn’t anymore. You bit your lip, knowing you were both just staring at each other; he had a good physique, and clearly looked after himself – you already got the feeling he ate well and it wouldn’t surprise you if he worked out, especially if Dillon was into sports. But this man was looking at you, and you weren’t about to shy away from that, in fact right now that was the last thing on your mind. “What… what if I didn’t sleep in the spare room?” Doug swallowed hard and his eyes met yours. By the time that happened there was a confident smile on his face; “If it’s any consolation, I’m glad you suggested it first.” You didn’t know if you were supposed to tell him how good it felt for his arms to be around you and his body to be this close to you; the way his fingertips brushed in patterns over your arms that very nearly soothed you to sleep. Doug wasn’t sure he was supposed to tell you how happy he was to get to hold you and not have to think of anything else, the shape of your body curved into his – his bed just not being empty. But you – he got to share it with you, and even now he hoped he’d not have to share it with anyone else. He turned to lay on his back for a moment, a little overcome with a whole lot of different emotions, some of which he’d rather not let you know about; but he kept one arm under you. That could well have been a fatal mistake, because you knew exactly why he’d do something like that; and you could hear the shallow breaths he was taking. Doug was tense even if he was trying to relax. Oh…Doug… Is that how you feel, baby? But it only made you smirk, because that feeling was mutual. And all you wanted to do was tell him that; tracing your fingers over his as he lay still, you shuffled slightly, to take his hand in yours. “I feel so small when you wrap your arms around me…” It was quiet, almost like a muse that you hadn’t meant to slip out, but of course you had. You rolled your body to free his arm, shirt riding up just enough, and you guided Doug’s hand over you, gazing your skin. You turned your head and although he was staring at the ceiling you made sure to look right at him, eyes and voice equally seductive. “I never thought I would meet someone that gets me so damn hot…” He stiffened and for a minute it was like he couldn’t breathe, but he was also struggling hard to keep the biggest smirk from creeping across his face, as you lowered your voice to a sultry whisper “I want your hands on me. I want your eyes on me. I want all of you…” Doug’s fingers were below your stomach now, and you were dangerously close to getting away with this, before he turned his head – his eyes were wide and alert - but his whole face read intrigued; “Holy shit! You’ve got a mouth on ya-!” You knew exactly why he was saying that, and why his hand was no longer going to move without his say so. Doug wanted to be in control of this; but also, God YES did he want you to talk dirty to him. It was so far removed from the sweet, polite, proper, almost innocent look and tone you usually used that it just turned him on. You smirked at him, biting your lip gently as you traced your eyes from his lips to his eyes and back again; “Oh, maybe you should blame yourself… And put it to good use.” Doug chuckled, “Well get over here then.” But you had no choice in that either, as he pulled you into him. Maybe you’d be fighting over this ‘boss’ thing for a while. He did let you initiate the kiss though, running your hands through his hair as he wound his arms around you. You guessed his clothes weren’t really going to be staying on you very long. His lips traced to your jaw line and your neck as his hands eased his shirt up your body; and Doug got his first sigh out of you, which only made him want to work for more of them. And you were alright with that, because all you wanted him to do was kiss your entire body. You craved his lips back on yours and pulled him back to you – if he wanted control you were going to make him work for it. Doug growled gently in response, knowing that, but also being more than up for the challenge, as his hands came to rest on your hips. You broke the kiss for a moment, forehead to his, but your eyes and your body was already telling him everything he needed to know. But you whispered it, like a prayer that would go unanswered if you didn’t; “I really need you right now…”

---

Thank you SO much for reading! 🙏🙊💜

[halfgclden]

Like Beef? | Gene&Wyatt

summary: dinner is served! dessert too (〃＞＿＜;〃)

date: February 16th, 2021

It was a decision that took Gene too long to make, in his opinion, but changing from his twin swords; a weapon built for dexterity and balance, to a single trident; a weapon that favored brute strength, turned out to be a good one. He took to his new weapon much more easily than he did the blades, and he didn’t have to worry about his left side the whole time. Despite this apparent natural inclination, Gene felt the need to catch up on practice, since he could have been using it the whole time. Once in the main part of the arena, he transformed his weapon from a piece of cutlery to a full-sized trident, and stood to the side, where people gathered when they needed a partner to spar with.

Wyatt had always favored the sword. Although his preference for the style of blade had changed over the years, he was the most proficient with the broadsword. Being at home back in the arena as of lately, today was no different. He had warmed up already and was also slightly itching for a fight. Upon seeing Gene, he surveyed his options and wondered if anyone else was going to take the other on. When he realized he wanted to be the one, Wyatt headed over. "Hey Gene," He called out. "You tryna put that trident to good use?" He asked and casually hung his hands on his sword in its hilt and his opposite hip.

Gene saw as Wyatt approached, though he tried adamantly to ignore the fact that he was in the same vicinity as him. He twisted his trident in his hand, the shaft pressed against the ground of the arena as he turned finally, locking eyes with his opponent. The last time that Wyatt and Gene had spoken, Gene had made it clear that Wyatt should not speak to him unless he was looking for a fight, and he supposed that this counted. His jaw set, he raised his chin at Wyatt, trying to seem like he was looking down at him despite the fact that the other man was taller. “Sure. You tryna get your ass kicked?”

Wyatt scoffed, shook his head and let out a little chuckle. "Yeah, I want you to try your hardest," He claimed while putting his hand on the hilt of his broadsword and unsheathing it in all its glory. "Y'know, really show me what you got, bud," He gestured his head at Gene and his trident to non-verbally usher him out more into a more appropriate place to spar in the arena. "And I won’t go easy on you either." He clarified.

Gene gripped his trident tightly as Wyatt laughed. He bit back a rush of anger, managing to convince himself not to lunge at Wyatt right there. “Don’t try this mentoring shit, I’m not into it.” He scowled and made his way to a clear space for them to spar. “And you better. I don’t want you saying I beat you because you went easy on me.” He turned and planted his feet, trying to relax his jaw. “Ready?”

Wyatt shook his head, scoffed at the mentoring remark but remained with a smirk. Once in a clear space, he relaxed his arm but kept his grip tight on the sword. With the assumption that Gene was most likely going strike first, he was ready to fend off an attack and serve up a counter-attack when needed. His mind already began shooting off in the different directions this spar could take. "Always ready," He claimed. "Come and get it." He taunted.

Gene grit his teeth as he watched Wyatt. There was something about the other man's confidence that he used to enjoy, but now just bothered him as he watched him move. Before Wyatt could finish his taunt, Gene was already lashing out at him, lunging forward with his trident, straight for Wyatt's side. It was an obvious move, but Gene felt like if he was fast enough, he could land a hit.

With his sword at the ready, Wyatt's body reacted like the fine-tuned machine he'd like to think he had trained it into over the years. It might've not been the exact case because, ever since he had taken time away from camp, he felt like he lost his some of his edge. Gene's move was obvious but it landed and Wyatt gritted his teeth at the sharp pain. He quickly used his sword to push Gene's trident away. "Aye, someone's been practicing hard, huh?" He wore a more serious expression but he barely finished before he swung low as his next move.

“Shut up,” Gene muttered through grit teeth. Distracted, Wyatt’s sword hit his leg easily, and he cursed as he took a step back. He reassessed before faking left and then striking right, going for Wyatt’s left side, where his defenses would be lowered. “Practice ain’t all it,” he said in a low voice despite protesting to Wyatt speaking before. “I got the tenacity.”

Wyatt began walking to the right, trying to throw him off and keep moving at the same time. It was a questionable move that, if he moved a second later, he would have been hit harder. But it only cost him a quick sharp pain from Gene's well thought out attack to his defenseless side. He barely reacted and began to feel annoyed that the other had managed to land his blows this quick. "But I got the experience," Wyatt retorted before assessing his options and choosing one in almost a split second. "And I got all day." He launched another slice through the air aimed at Gene's right side.

Gene grunted as Wyatt connected again, hitting his armor, but the blow was going to leave him bruised, he was sure. “Whatever,” he muttered, the time for talking over as the two launched into their attacks. It was clear that Wyatt had the upper hand– it only made sense. Gene had been training for months and Wyatt for years, not to mention the fact that the older man was a son of the god of war. Gene could feel that he was being bested, but still, he tried to keep up, sweating as he launched attack after attack at Wyatt, rolling with everything thrown at him. Gene had slowed down, wiping sweat from his brow as he waited for the next attack, on the defense now. He found it too humiliating to tap out after talking big to his opponent, and he took pause to watch his movements.

Wyatt had to admit that Gene was talented. So much so that Wyatt had also broken a sweat during their spar. The back and forth of a well-matched spar was familiar to him but Gene's moves were fresh. He liked how they both came at it in a different way. Feeling like he had the upper hand, he was eager to see this through. He let the pause settle but not for long because he faked right only to swing hard at Gene's left side.

The hit sent Gene down. Not enough to send him flat on his back, but enough to stumble and drop down. Though tap out or pass out was a more growing practice, it was clear that if this was life or death, Wyatt had already won. His eyes burning— from sweat, he swore, Gene stared up at Wyatt defiantly. He grit his teeth and spun his trident around to try and sweep at his ankles with the non-sharp end. Though he lacked the momentum to fully sweep him over, he figured a swollen ankle might at least make him feel better.

Wyatt was proud that he'd gotten Gene to drop down. He admired the tenacity in the younger opponent and was somewhat proud of Gene too. The fight was good and made his blood pump. He should've seen the other's next move coming but, he didn't. Wyatt's ankle had been struck by Gene's trident and it made him stagger and curse to himself. He bit back the pain and, with his good ankle, he lead with that leg and went to push Gene's trident away. He then put the point of his sword to align in the center of Gene's chest. "Do you tap out yet?" He asked but sounded serious.

Gene’s face was hot with shame and anger, and pride made him lean up so the sword was against him. However, he didn’t have a death wish, and though he was rash and prideful, he had some sense about him. “You gonna kill me if I don’t or what?”

Gene's response made Wyatt laugh for some reason. "Nah, bud." He shook his head and then pulled the sword away. He held it down by his side because he figured the other was going to give in. "You've got skills, I won't lie." Wyatt confessed with a little shrug.

The reply only made Gene angrier. His face hot with rage and shame at the laughter, he pushed himself up and brushed himself off, already starting to strip off the pieces of leather armor. "Fuck, whatever." He clenched a fist around the shaft of his trident, knuckles white. "Stop acting like we're friends. We're not. I don't give a fuck if you think I have skills. You've got..." If he said that Wyatt had no skills, that was just insulting himself, and he fumed as he tried to think of something. "Fuck, whatever," he repeated, turning away from Wyatt.

After watching Gene remove his armor, Wyatt put it together that the fight had indeed come to an end. He blinked as he remained standing and took Gene's words in stride. He nodded, silently, and then slid his sword back into the sheath at his side. "You make me feel like I gotta apologise for somethin' here, man." Wyatt observed with a little scoff. He could see the similarities between the two of them. "...What did you expect?" He posed as a question, but kept talking without much of a pause. "You probably could've taken me if you didn't let yourself get so pressed. Trust me, it's not worth it." He stated with another scoff and a shake of his head.

Gene scowled. "God, you're fuckin' annoying." He huffed, tapping his trident against the ground so it shrank, which made him feel much less like jutting the staff end of it into Wyatt's leg. "What I expect is for you to stop actin' like you're my personal trainer or some shit. You wanna give someone a pep talk so badly, go give it to one of your teenage girls."

"—Are you fucking kidding me, man?" Wyatt rubbed his hands together and then  rubbed one against his jaw. Maybe he wanted to control his anger, but it was becoming obvious that Gene had actually managed to get under Wyatt's skin. He started moving, pacing of some sorts. He still felt amped up from their spar. "I get that you feel some type of brotherly duty, but you gotta get over it." He stated. "I'm trying to be a good guy here. There's no reason why we shouldn't be on good terms, bro."

"Oh, that got you, huh?" Gene grinned at Wyatt, though it was malice rather than mirth in his eyes. Wyatt had a good few inches on him, but that didn't stop him from straightening up taller and raising his chin as he moved into his space once more. "Ey, don't call me bro. You know who does that? My friends, and my fuckin' sister." He resisted the urge to shove Wyatt's chest, but didn't move away as he ran his tongue over his teeth. "We're not on good terms cause I don't like you, kay? So, stay the fuck away unless you like scrap. Talk to me again and I'll kick your ass."

Wyatt stepped closer and more into Gene's space. It wasn't a friendly reaction, especially compared to Wyatt's previous attempts to make nice. By the way Gene held his expression, Wyatt figured this was really what Gene wanted to accomplish. They truly weren't on the same side, no matter how hard Wyatt had been trying. When sparring didn't work, he didn't know what else to do. "You better get real good at avoiding me then. Try and kick my ass, and you'll just get an instant replay." He explained; talking about the fact that he'd just won the spar. "I don't want to fight, but I'll just win again, man."

Gene ran his tongue over his teeth again and looked away as he laughed, shaking his head. Part of him respected Wyatt more from his reply, but that didn't stop the fact that he'd talked a bit game, and he had every intention of putting his money where his mouth was. "Should've stopped talking." He swung for Wyatt's face.

Even if Wyatt hadn't saw the punch coming, he felt like it was going to happen. With the way the two were going head-to-head with their verbal low blows, it was no surprise that they ended up fighting again. Gene's fist made contact but Wyatt was already soaked with sweat and adrenaline. He bounced back quickly and gripped Gene's shirt so that he could swing a punch at the other male's jaw in retaliation.

The hit hurt, and Gene’s jaw was already swelling from the blow, but he was hardly ready to stop. The fight was only going to end with one of them on the floor, that much was already clear. From where Wyatt held his shirt, Gene shifted closer and then turned so he could get more momentum on his next blow to his opponent’s chest.

Wyatt was hit in the chest. This only made him loosen his grip on Gene, but his anger still burnt hot. He staggered, but Gene's words had pushed the wrong buttons. Using that hand to line up another shot, he launched a punch at Gene's stomach this time.

Before he knew it, Gene was doubled over, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He used his position to wrap his arms around Wyatt’s middle, and tried to use the momentum to send them both to the ground.

Wyatt fought against it but was soon brought to the ground. He didn't go down without taking Gene down with him though and that's where he tried to continue their scrap.

Gene hit the ground hard, but scrambled to his hands and knees, raising his fist so he could send it down on Wyatt’s face again, but it made no connection. He was being pulled away, and struggled against the person with their arms wrapped around his middle. 

“Ge-e-ene!” Terence bleated, trying to shake some sense into his friend. “What in Hades are you doing? This is for spars, not a place to duke it out.” 

As he was chided, Gene stopped struggling, and, back on his feet once more, he looked between Wyatt and his satyr friend. He let out a sound of discontent and turned to walk away, not touching any part of himself to show that he was sore, unwilling to give Wyatt the satisfaction.

Wyatt pulled himself up from the ground and he too tried to not rub the parts that Gene had hit. While Gene chose to walk away, Wyatt clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to calm down. With a surge of annoyance, he looked at Terence. "He was asking for it." He claimed and finally broke away with a frustrated huff and headed in the other direction, away from Gene.

[youngbugandtonystank]

Just saw FFH

This contains spoilers and I don’t recommend reading if you haven't seen the movie. I’ll only talk about irondad and my opinion on the film.

I tagged this as ‘’ffh spoilers’’.

Last warning. This contains spoilers.

1. Peter is overwhelmed. Throughout this film, you can see this kid is totally overwhelmed over the fact that everyone expects him to be the ‘next iron man’ and I can see why Peter is overwhelmed. Tony’s face is everywhere. On ads, on walls, on everything. And for me, Peter is still in denial. He’s trying to distract himself with other stuff.

2. ‘’uneasy lies the head that wears the crown’’ adfjlhfksdl Tony told Fury to tell Peter this because Peter wouldn’t get that (more confirmation they spent time together between hoco and iw) because of a Star Wars (nerds asdfghj) reference. I don’t know anything about Star Wars so If anyone could explain this that would be great.

3. Tony left the glasses for Peter with an A.I. called ‘’E.D.I.T.H.’’ She is Tony Stark's multi-million augmented reality security and defensive zone specifically made for Peter because he trusted him. Peter now has access to all of Tony’s protocols and Stark global security network and multiple defense satellites and backdoors to all major telecommunication networks. The amount of trust Tony had on Peter is so heartbreaking. He was ready to coach him through life and everything. He addressed the card to Peter with ‘’To the next Tony Stark. I trust you’’. I just want to say, everyone is pressuring Peter to be the ‘’next iron man’’ and there’s Tony, saying ‘’the next Tony Stark’’.

4. Peter’s little smile when EDITH explains what her name means (Even Dead I’m The Hero). He knows Tony too well.

5. Tony trusted Peter SO DAMN MUCH. Remember in Homecoming, in the Ferry scene where Tony tells Peter; ‘’Everyone else said I was crazy to recruit a 14-year-old kid’’? Well, one of the people who told Tony he was crazy for trusting Peter was Fury. Fury scolded Peter and said: ‘’I told him, it’s clear to me that you are not ready for EDITH.’’ I’m going to be honest, I love Fury a lot but in this part, I wanted to punch him, this kid just lost his father figure, give him a break.

6. ‘’Stark chose you, he made you an Avenger, I mean that; the world means that’’. ‘He chose you’. ‘Was he?’ Peter was crying in here. And I was crying here too.

7. Well, the first time I heard Peter say ‘’Mr. Stark’’ since Endgame and his voice cracks. And my heart too. And Mysterio telling Peter he looks stupid with the glasses, I going to throw hands with you, Beck. And Peter giving the glasses to Beck, bad move Pete.

8. Peter thinking Tony gave him the glasses for him to choose the next Tony Stark and not believing for one second that the glasses are meant for him really hurts. Tony died too soon. Peter needed his father figure and mentor with him and he lost him in the worst way possible.

9. I might be wrong but did I hear Peter call Tony, ‘’Stark’’? And he mentions he’s 16, I thought that the gap between IW and HOCO was two years? So how is it possible he’s 16 if he was 15 in Homecoming? Maybe they made a mistake, just like in Homecoming with the timeline. This happens when a movie is so secretive (Endgame and Infinity War) that almost no one knows anything about it.

10. And YES Beck, Tony was right. You’re unstable. Using a 16-year-old grieving kid for your revenge is low. And also, the scene with the ‘’I hate Tony Stark™’’ club is really funny lol, all of them look like anti stans on Twitter lmao

11. Have you guys read those ‘interns meet Peter’ fics? Well, those are a reality now because there’s a scene where the entire ‘’anti-club™’’ show their jealousy toward Peter. They’re not interns but ex-stark industries employees but you get the concept. You can tell Peter was Tony’s son lmao he treated him as such and this movie confirmed this even more for me. The way the ‘’anti-club™’’ was talking about Peter tells me Tony talked about him a lot.

12. ‘’If you were good enough, maybe Tony would still be alive’’. Fuck :'(

13. The Iron Man suit coming out of the grave to haunt Peter.  :'(

14. Ok, the train part was wild. A train just ran over Peter and I just-. Damn Marvel, I knew it. Now that Tony is not available they’re going to torture Peter forever.

15. ‘’I MISS HIM’’ My heart can’t take this.

16. ‘’You’re not Iron Man, you’re never going to be Iron Man, no one can live up to Tony, not even Tony. He is my best friend and he was a mess, he second-guessed everything, he was all over the place. The one thing he never second-guessed? Picking you. I don't think Tony would've done what he did if he didn't know you were gonna be here after he was gone’’. KILL ME. I cried.

17. HAPPY WATCHING PETER IN A VERY NOSTALGIC WAY BECAUSE PETER REMINDS HIM OF TONY.

18. PETER WORKING WITH MUSIC JUST LIKE TONY.  PETER WORKING WITH MUSIC JUST LIKE TONY. PETER WORKING WITH MUSIC JUST LIKE TONY. PETER WORKING WITH MUSIC JUST LIKE TONY. PETER WORKING WITH MUSIC JUST LIKE TONY.

19. You’re going to cry watching Peter work JUST like Tony on the plane. I expect thousands of parallels of this ok?

20. Someone finally wondering why Peter disappears every single time. lol

21. ‘’I’m in love with spiderman’s aunt’’... Happy omg.

I think they should’ve included something like a conclusion to Tony’s arc with Peter at the end but they didn’t, so I’m guessing they have more plans for Peter and Tony’s relationship. I’m glad, they should continue the relationship by having little reminders in Peter’s life. And like I said, I feel like Peter is still processing Tony’s death and he’s going to need time to do that. He figured he was worth it of continuing with Tony’s legacy but he needs time to process all of his grief and that’s going to take a while. I hope we see more of this in the third film.

[striker-brayden]

Location: On a bench on campus Date: Graduation Trigger warnings: Mentions of anxiety, neglect, addiction, relapse, death, and drug abuse. (I get into how Brayden’s addiction affected his family, and Landon’s POV during that time, so it gets a little sad and dark. Please proceed with caution!)

Brayden’s graduation gown is draped over the back of the bench from when he shucked it off the second he was free. The crowd is long gone, probably at their post-graduation lunches, but he hasn’t found the will to go back to the Tower yet. His shit is already packed, and while he’s still staying with Betsy over the summer, it still feels too real. In July, he won’t be in the Fox Tower anymore. He won’t pick up his racquet again, and he won’t have that strict schedule he’s had to follow for the past five years. It makes his chest tight with anxiety, and the fact that he’s walking out of here without the win he tried so hard for, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but he doesn’t regret his choice. He talked it through with Besty, and he’s trying to not to put all his self-worth into whether he beat Landon or not, and he thinks he’ll eventually look back on this year and accept the end result, but it’s too soon right now. 

It’s time to move on, and start building up his portfolio so he can do what he really wants. He’s pretty sure if he stayed on the Foxes for a sixth year, he would’ve run himself into the ground. It’s bittersweet. Brayden never thought he’d leave this place with any kind of reluctance--he didn’t think there’d be anyone to miss. When he first signed on, he figured he’d spend the next five years keeping to himself until he got his degree. Instead, he’s sitting here, thinking about how much it’ll fucking suck to say goodbye to his roommates, his friends...Arlo. He has a phone, and he’s not leaving Palmetto right away, but it won’t be the same. 

Brayden looks up as a shadow passes over him, letting out a resigned sigh when he sees his brother looming over him. He’s dressed for the occasion and everything, hands shoved in the pockets of his dress pants as he hovers nervously. Brayden had a feeling he’d show up, considering he texted him asking for the date and if he could set aside a ticket just in case. He’s given up on trying to block Landon’s attempts at whatever it is he’s doing, though he still doesn’t trust it. His brother wants something, and he knows that once Landon has his mind set on something he doesn’t give up. 

“Lucky me,” Brayden says flatly, “and here I thought I wouldn’t have any family trying to get pictures of me in my hat. Mom isn’t here too, is she?”

Landon sits heavily beside him, letting out a frustrated sigh. “No, I didn’t tell her about it. She’s still in California. She keeps trying to put the idea of moving to West Virginia in my head though.” 

That doesn’t surprise him. He tries not to think about what she’s been up to since he left, but he doesn’t imagine she’s doing well in that house by herself, especially without Landon. After Brayden pulled away, she latched onto her prized, eldest son--who defended her every time Brayden said something particularly nasty about her. 

“What’s the hold up? I figured you’d be all over that. You and mom were like the fucking dream duo, giving me shit when I wouldn’t worship the ground she walked on,” He snaps before he can stop himself. It seems like it doesn’t matter how many years pass, it’ll always be a sore spot for him--how isolated he felt back then. 

“No, you were my best friend,” The change in Landon’s tone is so sudden that it causes Brayden to reel back in surprise. It’s not like he hasn’t heard him snap before, they used to get into some pretty terrible screaming matches back in the day, but during all those fights, Landon never said anything like that. He watches his brother’s jaw clench as he tries to reign himself in, much like Brayden does when he’s pissed, until his shoulders suddenly slump. “God, I’m so tired of fighting with you. That’s not why I came.”

“Then why did you come?” Brayden mutters.

“Because whether you want to believe it or not, I’m proud of you. I could tell from your games how hard you’ve been trying this year, and you graduated on time. I know you don’t want me here, but I’m still your brother. Families are supposed to go to graduations,” He trails off with a sigh, staring down at his hands as he wrings them nervously.

Brayden isn’t used to seeing Landon like this. He was always everything Brayden wasn’t--confident, talented, carefree. Everything always came so easy for him. It was impossible for him to live up to, so he stopped trying. He became the opposite of what people expected from Landon Sykes’ younger brother. He was angry, lazy, an addict--a disappointment. And then he was lost and desperate, and had no one, so it doesn’t sit right with him that Landon is suddenly here now when he doesn’t need him anymore.

“Why now?” He asks, wincing when his voice comes out like a hoarse croak. “Why now when I have my shit together and not then? If you were my best friend then where the fuck were you when I actually needed you?”

It’s the question he’s been wanting to ask for so many years, but didn’t have the guts to, because it’d mean admitting that he was weak enough to need his family after he made the choice to push them away. Maybe because he also didn’t want to hear the answer, in case it confirmed what he’s known all along. That they didn’t care about him. 

Landon is silent for a long time, studying his hands like they’re most fascinating things in the world, and the longer it goes on, the more the anxiety claws at his throat. When he finally looks up, Brayden is shocked to see there’s tears building in his eyes. He hasn’t seen his brother cry since they were kids, and it makes his own burn automatically. 

“I was scared,” Landon admits, his voice wobbling dangerously, “Seeing you like that. God, Brayden you just looked so sick, and you were so out of it all the time, I didn’t know what to do. I was just a kid. I had no fucking idea what I was supposed to do.” 

A kid. Somehow, Brayden never thought of him like that back then. He was his big brother. Larger than life Landon. And suddenly he realizes he always looks back at that time and thinks of himself as a stupid teenager, but never gives Landon that same patience.. He’s only a year older than him. If their situations were reversed, he’s not so sure he would’ve handled it any better. 

Landon uses Brayden’s contemplative silence as an excuse to keep going, sniffing and blinking back the tears building before he speaks up again. “And I know it’s not a good excuse, but I was pissed at you. We were best friends our whole lives, and then one day, out of the blue, it was like you were done with me. No explanation. Nothing. You wouldn’t hang out with me anymore, you’d barely say a word to me. It was like I meant nothing to you, and that hurt,” He breaks off suddenly with a shaky breath, and Brayden is really rendered speechless this time, staring at Landon with wide, confused eyes.

Brayden was so tired of living in Landon’s shadow that he took all that frustration and anger and attached it to his brother. He never considered how pushing him away might’ve affected him, because he was so convinced it was his brother’s fault. Now he’s hearing that Landon didn’t even know why he did it. Like he was so oblivious to being the superior brother that Brayden’s actions made no fucking sense to him. Maybe they didn’t. He just can’t understand how Landon didn’t see it.

“You said I ignore my problems and that I let you push me away too easily,” Landon speaks up again when Brayden fails to. “And you were right. I should’ve tried harder to reach out to you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I’m sorry that I was so hard on you when you clearly needed help. I thought you wouldn’t want it, I guess. I thought you hated me--that you still do,” He confesses and finally looks up, giving Brayden a defeated looking shrug. 

“I did,” He admits, and even though he was only quiet for a few minutes his throat still feels rough from disuse, probably from being so dry. Part of him wishes Betsy was here to facilitate this conversation, but he actually thinks he’s in a good enough place to deal with this himself. Maybe, Landon’s weird stalker tendencies paid off after all. 

“Being your brother wasn’t easy, man. Everyone, and I mean everyone, loved you. All your teachers, your coaches, the fucking janitor, and maybe being awesome comes naturally to you, but it sure fucking doesn’t for me,” He lets out a short, bitter laugh. Landon gives him a confused look, but doesn’t interrupt, and he knows he’s going to have to actually spell this out for him. 

“So, imagine all those people then meeting me and wondering how the fuck I’m related to you,” He says slowly. 

“What was wrong with you?�� Landon counters, still sporting the confused, puppy look, and Brayden doesn’t know whether to laugh or punch him, at this point. “You were a little shy, I guess.”

“More than a little, dude. I didn’t have friends. I couldn’t just do anything and be god tier at it like you. I was average. Below average--” Landon cuts in before he can finish, “Okay, I think you’re building me up a little too much.” 

“I’m not. I think the only thing I was wrong about is that you apparently didn’t see yourself like that. But the point is, people had high expectations for me that I couldn’t meet, and then they were disappointed. I couldn’t do fucking anything without being compared to you. And mom--” He stops abruptly, shaking his head. He needs to get this out in the open, whether all contact ends today or if he actually keeps up with this tentative thing they have going on. “She was the worst of them all. ‘You should be more like your brother,’ she’d say. Like I wasn’t good enough for her as I was.”

“I’m sure she was just worried that you were lonely, Bray,” Landon offers quietly, and the combination of the old nickname and Landon defending her strikes a chord in him, and suddenly anger is burning in his veins. 

“And then you’d fucking do that!” He snaps, his voice cracking. Thank fucking god everyone already left or else they’d be causing quite the scene. “You’re always defending her instead of just trying to understand why I was mad at her. Yeah, I was fucking lonely, but it wasn’t because the kids at school didn’t like me or whatever, it was because of that. Because mom was so fucking proud of you that I felt like her extra kid half the time, and you were always taking her side. I didn’t fit in there, and I was so fucking tired of trying. So yeah, I pushed you away.”

Landon looks like he has an argument ready but he lets out a long sigh instead, running a hand over his face, “I wish you said something.” 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to have to,” Brayden mumbles, pursing his lips as his conscious fights him on that. It sounds like Betsy. “Which I realize now isn’t a healthy approach or whatever. And I guess I should’ve told you all that instead of taking it on you like I did. It was kind of hard not to hate you when I was living in your shadow.” 

“There’s a lot we should’ve done differently,” Landon concedes with a tight, weak half-smile. “We were just kids, dealing with things we didn’t understand. But do you get why I’ve been reaching out to you all year, right? We’re not kids anymore. You just graduated, I have a full time job. I guess I just want my brother back,” He admits. 

“It’s a little too late for that. Don’t you think?” He stares down at his feet, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. He doesn’t know what to do with all this. He never thought this was a conversation they’d ever had. He thought all this time Landon was trying to reach out to fuck with him, not to repair their relationship. Brayden just doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to not associate Landon with the darkest point of his life.

“No,” The broken tone in his voice prompts Brayden to whip his head up in surprise, furrowing his brows when he sees Landon’s eye are glassy with tears again.

“You don’t get it, do you? Do you know how relieved I was when you joined the Foxes? How good it felt to see you on the court. Sober? And then you relapsed. That’s when I thought it was too late. Brayden, I thought you were going to die,” Landon gets too choked up to go on, and a few tears slip down his cheeks as he takes a heaping breath to collect himself. 

“Come on, man. Don’t do that,” Brayden shakes his head and braves resting a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He feels a tear trickle down his own cheek, and realizes Landon must’ve set him off. Stupid sympathy tears. They must look ridiculous--two dudes crying on a bench. “I’m fine. Like actually fine. Five years sober and everything.”

Fuck, was that really what it was like being on the other side? All these years, he’s built Landon up to be the enemy. He was so hurt and angry with him that he never put himself in his shoes and wondered what it was like to see himself in his eyes. Now, Landon’s pain is written all over his face, and while he still wishes he knew this back then, he’s glad he’s learning it now. His brother cares. 

“I’m so sorry,” Landon shakes his head violently before wiping his eyes, “I wish I could go back and change how I handled it, but I can’t. So, I’m trying to fix it now, I guess.”

Brayden nods quietly in understanding, giving him another pat on the shoulder before dropping his hand, “Yeah, I get it. And look, I know I was an asshole and exactly wasn’t easy to deal with. So, I’m sorry too. For cutting you out. I guess we could start like--calling each other and shit, if you want.”

Landon looks stupidly hopeful at that, perking up in his seat, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, why not? I mean, I don’t think I’m ready to be best friends forever or anything yet, but we can take it slow,” He shrugs, playing it nonchalantly even though he feels a weird mix of panic and relief. Talking like this, actually trying to understand each other, is making him realize he actually missed Landon. He was so caught up in beating Landon and trying to keep him out of his life that he forgot why he was his best friend in the first place. 

“Do you have plans yet? You could always stay with me until you figure it out,” Landon offers causing Brayden to snort. 

“That’s not slow, dude. And I’m staying with our team therapist for the summer, and after that I might get an apartment nearby while I save up money and figure shit out. I’m--uh--trying to be a tattoo artist,” He admits.

“Awesome,” Landon grins. “I figured you’d end up doing something artsy, since you were painting all the time. Think you can give me one for free?” 

Brayden raises an amused brow, his gaze shifting to Landon’s ink-less arms. 

“A small one,” Landon adds with a laugh.

“Discounted, maybe. Unless, you’re getting a Deathly Hallows tattoo. Then it’s full price,” Brayden pats his shoulder before pushing himself to his feet, gesturing for his brother to follow.

“Uh--where are we going?” He asks as he hesitantly stands. 

“My dorm. I’ll introduce you to my teammates, and I’ll reintroduce you to my boyfriend. I was kind of asleep the last time you met him,” He shrugs.

It’s a simple offer, but Landon looks like he just told him he won the lottery with the big grin on his face, “Yeah, that’d be great. I was watching you guys so closely all year I feel like I already know them, so it’d be good to meet them officially.”

“Creepy, dude,” He snorts before leading the way. 

Brayden feels weirdly light and at peace. Like the last chapter of this crazy, five year adventure came to a close. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel so freaked out to be leaving. He has Arlo and his friends, he can always call Betsy if he needs to, and even if things with Landon aren’t ever really the same again, it’s getting better. For once, he can picture the future, and it’s looking pretty fuckin’ good.

[doof-doofblog]

"Bobby! Can You Hear Me?!"

Tuesday 28th April 2020

Evening everyone! As promised, here is my second post of the day! I hope you all enjoyed my earlier post reviewing last night's episode. To start off though I believe there have been some miner spoilers realised, which I have only been made aware of within the past few hours. I wouldn't necessarily call it spoiler, more speculation. It will appear that Chantelle and Kheerat start to form a strong bond and it's been mentioned that Kheerat could actually be the one that Chantelle opens up to about Gray's abuse.  I'm sure this is something that you're probably all aware of by now, as there as been slight flirtation between the characters, but to some, it may be news ... who knows? It is yet to be seen, but with all the directions the stories are leading to, I think it'll only be a matter of time before Chantelle says something!

Anyway shall we focus on tonight's episode, I felt it was another one full of drama! So many cliffhangers that we have to wait another week for until we see what happens, but it'll all be worth it i'm sure! Let's start off with what's happening with the Trueman family. So, after Isaac let off a bit of steam, he informed Denise about how both Patrick and Sheree have been acting suspiciously in recent weeks since his arrival, and most importantly how Patrick has dropped little hints here and there that he is actually his biological father. Of course, Denise has been completely unaware of the secret that both Sheree and Patrick have been hiding, you could see she was deeply shocked and surprised to figure out that Patrick was Isaac's father. After learning the truth and realising that Isaac has been lied to and not been told anything about his past, she came up with an idea. She called Patrick and told him to meet Sheree at the Vic, and Isaac went to the Salon where Sheree would think she'd be meeting Denise.It seems like the perfect way to finally get one of them to reveal the truth, if not both of them. Isaac can confront his Mum and get her to explain everything to him, even though i'm sure he'll be devastated that he's been lied to for so long. Plus Patrick has only known for a few months, and it's been clearly hard for him to keep to himself, he's been desperate to say something since he found out. I think this will be a huge weight of his shoulders, and hopefully, in time and if Isaac will want to, hopefully they can start to build a father-son relationship. Isaac is going to have a lot of questions for Sheree though before we get to that stage. Why did she lie to him for all those years? Why did she never tell Patrick? Why didn't she want Isaac to know? Whatever the answers may be, there is sure going to be a long road ahead for Isaac when he takes in this new information.

I don't know about you guys, but I really wanted to see the scene where Phil would sit Linda down and tell her exactly what life is like being an addict! I'm gutted I have to wait a whole week to see what Phil is going to tell her! So, after Linda came home from her meeting she told Mick and Shirley that Phil was there. I loved that little quote she made about it being Phil Collins! Haha! Anyway, neither Shirley or Mick were surprised, but Shirley, of course, stood up for Phil after Linda made a comment about him being there. She is right in the fact that Phil only knows too well what it's like and how hard it can be trying to remain sober and that Linda should listen to him! Eventually Phil actually went to in and put in a offer for the Vic and he's offering Mick the asking price,but he'll only give the asking price so Linda can swap her days at the AA meeting. Mick also informed Linda about Phil had said about her, that it would be for the best if she were to move out of the Vic as soon as possible! Linda, being the feisty woman that she is, went to have it out him, but I believe that she'll come to understand him a lot more after this conversation they're about to have. Phil revealed that he had been sober for almost 4 years, but still if it weren't for him going to those AA meetings, he would still be suffering with alcohol. I think Linda then realised that she's got a long long road ahead until things get easier for her, that is if they do get easier. She needs to realise that she is an addict and there are always going to be temptations in her path, but she needs to realise that she can get through this, it's just going to take time. What better person to tell her all the truths about being an addict than Phil?! He's been right in the gutter with not just alcohol, but with drugs also ... does anyone remember when he was a heroin addict? That was the most fantastic and so real performance that I've ever seen from an actor! I can't applaud Steve McFadden enough, he has and always will be my favourite EastEnders actor! I think the chat that Linda and Phil will have will really be an eye-opener for Linda. I'm really looking forward to seeing that scene unfold, roll on next Monday!  

Uh-Oh ... so Chantelle and Kheerat have found themselves trapped after a power cut happened in the Panesar household! Unfortunately, this could mean severe consequences for Chantelle, as just as the power cut happened, she was on the phone to Gray telling her he needed her, as he's come to find out where Whitney is! I mean, he wasn't happy with the news that she had to go and work there in first place, is he going to be even more angry at her now? I mean, it wasn't her fault there was a power cutt, but I bet he will say if her mobile was switched on she wouldn't have been there when it happened! There were spoilers that both Chantelle and Kheerat were going to locked in a room together, does this mean that this could be the time they open up to one another? Will Kheerat tell her about how he feels about his Mum? Could he really be feeling disgusted with his Mum after finding out about her lies and is he just putting on a front? But also, could this be the time that Chantelle finally reveals to someone about how Gray abuses her! It's an interesting situation and again there are so many twists and turns that it can take. I really am gutted tonight's episode ended where it did, there's so much stuff i'm looking forward to finding out! I just hope Chantelle won't get the blame for the power cutt and Gray will understand.

Okay, so everyone now knows where Whitney is, and hopefully Gray and/or the police will be on their way to save her! I felt for Whitney tonight ... she's still being tormented and still having to relive those harrowing ordeals that Tony and Leo put her through. I really felt for her when she had to listen to Michaela talking about Tony and how she thought she was in love with him, and then coming to realise who Leo was, it felt horrible to watch I think. You could see Whitney just thinking things over and over in her head about everything she has been through. However, the big shock was that Michaela knew what Tony was like, she threw him out and that's why he went back to Bianca where he continued to abuse Whitney. All those years, Michaela knew what Tony was doing and she let it happen, even though she thought she was trying to protect Leo, she should've also tried to save/protect Whitney, and she never did. Is she feeling guilty that she never acted? Could this be why she's taken Whitney hostage? Does she want to tell her exactly what she went through? Or could it be a scheming way of getting Whitney to admit to murdering Leo?! It's an interesting cliff hanger ... lets just hope Whitney will be saved or be able to escape, and Michaela will get what's coming to her!

Oh Bobby! Poor Bobby! All he wants is to win the girl! That's all he wants! He's trying so hard to impress Dotty .. he dressed really nicely, he bought her a drink, complemented her and she still didn't get the hint! She seems to think that they're just friends ... it's a shame though, as just before it was revealed that Bobby had collapsed, Peter and Dotty shared a moment and were literally about to lean in for a kiss! Was it only me who noticed that?! I sure as hell felt like a kiss was going to happen! Poor Bobby actually resorted to taking drugs to (perhaps) impress a girl! He knew Dotty was selling something, even though she refused to give him some, I guess he just wanted to fit in and maybe not have her see him as "Just a kid!" ... What was it that Bobby took? I hope he'll be okay! How is Peter going to feel, knowing purely that his little brother has feelings for the girl he is flirting with! Even when Peter mentioned to Bobby about using his passport to enter the club and then commenting that he had used tons of his aftershave, I don't think he was acting as the caring older brother. I don't know what it was, but it felt as if he was skitting at him, maybe? Even telling Bobby to prove it to Dotty that he wasn't just a kid, an then later on, trying to lean in for a kiss with her! What is Peter's game?! I'm not sure I 100% trust Peter, I think he's changed. He used to be such a caring character, and now I'm not so sure ... Am I the only one thinking this? I could be completely wrong and I will take back everything I've said if I am, but ... surely, you wouldn't act on flirting with your brother's crush, would you?! I hope Dotty will come to realise that Bobby actually likes her, and maybe she'll give him a chance? It's uncertain what's going to happen with this story-line, I can see it, that both the Beale brothers will be fighting each other for Dotty's affection. What do you think is going to happen? Will Bobby be okay? Will Dotty give him a chance?

Unfortunately, we have a whole week to wait to see what happens. I've lost track on how many weeks it's been since the soap started airing only 2 episodes a week, I'm hoping there'll still be enough for us to see until things get back to some form of normality. I want to thank you all for reading my blog and being patient with me! I hope you're enjoying the soap just as much as I am! I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next and writing up about it! Enjoy the rest of your week folks as much as you can, keep safe and hopefully this will all be over soon! Feel free to message me and share your thoughts and opinions on anything I've posted. I'll always make time to respond! Thanks guys! xXx

[221bshrlocked]

Guys My Age (5)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 5187

Warnings: Angst. Then needy smut since y’all seemed to like that shit as much as I love writing it.

A/N: Use protection homies. Better safe than surprised. Also, I uploaded it to AO3 with gifs since I am not allowed to use gifs on this website anymore cause tumblr has a stick up their ass. And hopefully it’s as good as the other chapters. 

Previous Part

You've accounted for everything when the day started. You've thought of the different ways Steve can find out about his birthday party. You've thought of so many excuses in case he figured out what you guys had planned. You've prepared everything for the surprise, even going as far as making sure Friday wouldn't give your plans away. You've made sure Tony wouldn't slip up by accident and mention something during your missions.

So yeah, you've definitely accounted for everything. Or so you thought. Too bad you didn't realize this until it was too late.

You were now dealing with the consequences of your, arguably good intentioned, actions.

Rewind to about 4 hours ago, you were on your way to the 50th floor with Steve, telling him that something was some debriefing with other agents that were not up to date with some protocols. When he kept on complaining about how these new agents should've done their jobs instead of being hand-fed the rules, you told him to deal with it and it was probably the last time.

As soon as he opened the door, screams erupted from everyone waiting for him, the look on his face priceless because it was totally worth it to yell at each person that almost told him by accident.

Quickly finding your spot next to Bucky, you kissed his cheek before wrapping your arm around him, his own keeping you as close to him as possible. Soon after, the party began, with Tony giving a stupid speech about the ups and downs of life, and teasing Steve about his suits while Steve retaliated and reminded him of the one time he had to help him out when his suit was stuck in the elevator of Buckingham Palace.

You've stayed next to Bucky the entire night, occasionally excusing yourself to get the two of you drinks or mingle with other people you knew. And whenever you took a little longer than usual, Bucky would shoot you a text asking where you were, replying to not take too long and return to him after you're done.

Smiling at the text, you sent him a quick kissy face emoji before returning to the bar and ordering drinks for you and Natasha. Grabbing the drinks, you turned around and crashed into someone immediately, the drinks spilling all over you and making you step back.

"Shit I'm so sorry I didn't see you there at all. Did anything c-" You froze as soon as you saw who it was, face contorting before you turned around and ordered the same drinks again, apologizing to the bartender and helping him clean up the mess.

"Now now, is that anyway to look at your favorite boyfriend?" You couldn't have snorted any louder at his comment, thanking the bartender before walking around this excuse of a man. Not bothering to reply, you continued walking, trying to look for Natasha.

"Come on Y/N, you can't expect me to believe you've forgotten about me." You remained silent, setting down the drinks at a table before texting her real quick. When he grabbed your arm to get your attention, you stopped moving and stared at him, your death stare making him smile at you.

"Now that I have your attention-"

"If you want to keep your arm, I suggest you let go of mine."

"Baby I specifically remember you liking it when I get a little rough." He chuckled, hands still on your arm and beginning to grip it tighter.

"You have about 10 more seconds before I break it so don't say I didn't warn you."

"Do you really think I'm going to believe those little charades with that dick face. I know you miss me sweetheart. I know what you like and what you don't like. I can play your body like a fucking violin and make you cum with one look-" You cut him off once again.

"Please did you really think I ever came when we had sex? That was me trying not to make you feel bad about your tiny dick, which I assume your new girl toy figured was useless since you couldn't even fucking use it."

That seemed to do the trick, but as soon as he let go of your arm, his fingers wrapped around your neck, slamming you hard against the wall before staring at you.

"Listen here you cock slut, I can make a scene or we can go back to my place quietly. If you don’t, I'll send your brain-washed boyfriend the sweet little pics you sent me when we were together…maybe you'll come back to me then when he breaks up with you." You were about to kick him when someone grabbed him by his hair and pulled him away.

"Listen here sweetheart," Natasha imitated him, whispering something in his ear that you couldn't hear but when he looked like he'd seen a ghost, you knew it wasn't something friendly. He walked away without turning back, leaving you and Natasha exchanging a silent conversation before returning to your group.

The problem was, even when you tried to brush the little exchange aside, smiling and laughing like you always do, Bucky sensed something was off. He didn't want to press you on it, knowing you'll probably just tell him later. As the party went into full swing, Bucky asked you to dance with him, his arms wrapped around your form the entire time and keeping you flush to him. He whispered many things in your ears, from the funniest jokes he heard to the filthiest lines that made you squirm in his arms.

But even though you laughed and sighed against him, he knew whatever happened must've been a little worse than he thought.

"Wanna get some air for a bit?" He asked, taking your hands when you nodded quietly before looking everywhere else but him. When he finally had you for himself, he stepped a little closer, arms cornering you against the railing when you kept on staring out to the city and not at him.

"Baby what's wrong?" Bucky truly didn't want to ask but he had a feeling that you might not tell him as he thought.

"N-nothing." Shit, you loved his sense of intuition so much but right at this moment, it was a curse.

"It's not nothing darling I know you. Somethin' happened. Please, let me help you. What happened?" Bucky cooed against your shoulder, kissing your neck before resting his hands on your stomach. Knowing you weren't going to talk like this, he did the only thing he knew would get you to open up. At times like this, getting a little handsy with you was what did it.

Reaching with his metal fingers, he was about to wrap them lightly against your neck when you flinched and let out a sob.

Something changed in the atmosphere at this moment.

Bucky stepped away in an instant, fear washing over him as he took in what just happened. You turned around as soon as you didn't feel his heat any longer, looking up at him and breath hitching when you saw the way he was gazing at you.

"James wait-" Before you could say anything, Bucky was sprinting back into the room, completely ignoring you. By the time you came back to yourself, you were running around trying to find him when you were grabbed and thrown into a room.

"Didn't I say you should come with me quietly?" Your asshole of an ex was about to kick you when you got out the knife in your holster and stabbed his shoulder, his agonizing scream making you just a little happier.

"Son of a bitch. Look what you made me do! Now he thinks I'm afraid of him." He was about to ask you what you meant when you sank the knife deeper in his muscles, his pleas bringing Steve and Sam rushing into the room.

"What the hell is going on here?" Sam asked before looking down and seeing the man crying on the floor. You told them what happened earlier quickly, telling them you needed to find Bucky as soon as possible.

"Y/N just calm down-"

"I'm not going to fucking calm down Rogers. He thinks I'm afraid of him. Do you know how fucking hard it was to get him to finally trust himself. A long ass time. And now this asshat ruined everything." You started heaving, afraid it was all over with Bucky.

"Buck WAIT-" Those two words were the only warning you got right before you heard the familiar sound of metal plates shifting followed by an even louder scream. You turned around and saw Bucky holding your ex against the wall by his neck, his other hand grabbing the knife and violently taking it out before holding his other hand against the wound.

"Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck right now." The man looked like he'd seen the devil in front of him, begging Bucky to not kill him and apologizing to you. You knew Bucky would never kill him but the look in his eyes made you doubt yourself a bit.

"James sweetheart listen to me. He's not worth it. Please. Baby he's nothing. Let's just leave. Come with me Bucky please…please." He still wasn't listening to you, wanting nothing more than to hurt the man in front of him.

"Buck listen to her." Steve stepped through and placed his hand on his shoulder, the action calming him down and making him retract his hold on the man before turning around and looking at you.

For the second time that night, Bucky wished he didn't see you looking at him like this. As if he was an unhinged animal.

And for the second time that night, you had to watch him walk away without so much as a word to you. Turning to Steve, you told him you were going to deal with him before running after Bucky. By the time you caught up to him, he was already in the elevator, not bothering to hold it open for you and hissing when you made it just in time.

"What the hell was that?" You didn't mean to sound angry but you were afraid it would have gone further. When Bucky said nothing, you pushed his shoulder, heart rate increasing when he didn't bother trying to tell you to stop. His back hit the wall, hands grasping the railing so hard it bent under him. When he finally did look at you, your heart broke, the defeated expression he held making you wish you let him have his way with your ex.

"You…why didn't you tell me? I, fuck this was a bad idea…I knew this would happen." He whispered to himself, looking to the increasing numbers on the elevator and wishing it would just let him out already. "You knew what would happen? How many times do I have to tell you, I am not afraid of you. I never was and I never will be." You sounded hurt, trying to see if there was any way you could get this message across.

"Oh yeah, well why did you pull away?" Bucky knew the answer but he didn't want to believe it. Some part of him thought he was the guilty one.

"BECAUSE THAT ASSHOLE ALMOST KILLED ME MINUTES BEFORE! IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT! I WAS JUST REACTING TO THE MOTION JAMES NOT TO YOU. I mean for fuck’s sake, I told you I know you’d never hurt me." Your anger seeped through, arms pushing him again before continuing your attack on his shoulders. Bucky didn't bother to try and stop you, almost crying along with you.

"You- you're lying." He sounded broken and you wished you could take back the last hour.

"I would never lie to you James and you fucking know this. And if we're talking about shit that I knew would happen, what was that? Every single time we see him, you manage to keep it together. What the fuck was that huh? Do you have any idea what he's going to say now? They…they might take you from me. I- shit, James I don't know what I'd do if he pressed charges." Panic was evident in your voice, making Bucky scrunch his face and yell back.

"I DID THAT BECAUSE HE SHOULDN’T HAVE LAID A FINGER ON YOU. I DID THAT BECAUSE I PROMISED YOU I WOULD NEVER LET ANYONE HURT YOU AND I COULDN'T KEEP THAT FUCKING PROMISE." The elevator dinged, Bucky watching you walk out first before letting out a laugh.

"Oh yeah because you have to be James Barnes, the man who saves the damsel in distress whenever he could. Unfuckingbelievable." You headed towards the stairs, throwing your bag on the couch and beginning your ascent to your room when you felt a pair of hands wrapping around your waist and pushing your face against the wall.

"Do you wanna say that again to my face sweetheart? Cause the last time I checked, you had no fucking problem with me doing just that every time he pissed you off. Or are you forgetting now?" Bucky whispered in your ear, stopping your oncoming remark with a bite to your neck. You hated the effect he had on you but you couldn't hold back the groan bubbling its way through your lips. “Isn’t that right doll? You fucking love it when I show him who you belong to don’t you? In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me that turned you on.” When you whimpered in his arms, he laughed, his hands roaming your body before grabbing you roughly just like you wanted.

“There she is. My pretty doll loves it when I mark her...you live for it Y/N and don’t fucking deny it cause I know. I know how you like it...how you love it when I make you mine every fuckin’ night. You love it when I fuck this tight cunt, makes you wet every time I fuck you with these.” He made sure you knew what he was referring to, grasping you through your clothes with his metal fingers and rubbing your pussy as hard as he could until you melted in his arms.

“B-bucky…” You sighed when he kissed your neck, moaning when you didn’t feel him against you anymore. You turned around in time to see him taking his clothes off and you tried to face him but he combed his hands through your hair before pulling harshly on it and pushing you down against the table near the stairs. You swore from how angry he was and he mocked you again right before spanking your ass.

“Baby I told you...can’t fucking lie to me. Your body speaks for you dollface,” He practically ripped the jacket off of you, not bothering to unzip your pants before pulling them as aggressively as he could down your legs. “Fuck me…” You tried to look back at him but he didn’t give you a chance, his hands going through your panties before pulling on them, the sound of fabric snapping once again turning you on more than it should.

“That’s right baby, you’re fucking mine. Mine. I own this pussy. I own this fucking body...your soul is mine Y/N.” You knew he was saying those things out loud more for himself than to you. His insecurities were shedding off of him like hair from a dog and you wanted nothing more than to hug him and tell him he has nothing to worry about. But he needed this. You both needed this. He needed to know he was in charge and he needed to understand you weren’t going anywhere.

So when you heard him unzipping his pants, you braced yourself for the onslaught that was to come. His cock went in with ease and you laughed because he wasn’t wrong. You loved seeing him asserting his dominance, some weird part of you loving it when he made it clear you were his and he was yours. Like the two of you were a pair of fucking animals that bonded for life. “Fuck babygirl, always so tight for me...so hot and wet squeezin the shit outta my cock doll fuck-” He rested his head against your back, sighing and telling you he could die in between your legs.

You held him onto him, hands scratching the arms around your waist and telling him you loved him. “Harder Buck...fuck me, god yes yes wanna feel your cock for days baby harder, fuck me harder please...let me feel you James shit shit.” He bit your shoulder again and you screamed from the pleasure you felt through the pain, biting your lips and telling him you loved it when he was rough.

“Take what you want James...take everything you want, I fucking love it. Love you so much baby fuck you’re so hard yes. Yes!” You continued to encourage him, knowing he needed to hear you now more than ever. You held back the tears waiting to roll down your cheeks, a part of you feeling he might misunderstand and stop, which was the last thing you’d want. His hands moved every second all over your body, wanting to touch you everywhere all at once and keep you as close to him as possible. He knew he should stop and just talk through this but he could do that later. Right now, all he wished was to bury himself so deep inside you until he couldn’t think of anything else other than your pussy clenching hard around him.

You managed to turn your face, wanting to look at his wrecked face as he fucked inside of you over and over again. He wrapped an arm around your chest, pinching and cupping your nipples until you were screaming his name alone. He switched to Romanian and you managed to understand a few words, ones he happened to whisper on your skin every night he fucked you. You told him you loved it when he dirty talked in other languages even though you understood nothing. But there was something special about the Romanian that made your skin flush.

But no matter how much you told him, he didn’t go near your neck. You grabbed for his metal hand and tried to place it around your neck but he refused and pushed your face down further, silently telling you to not ask him again.

“Love you so much doll face, so fucking much. Shit baby you’re always so good for me, your cunt was made for me darlin’, made for my cock. Wanna worship you every minute of every fucking day sweetheart Jesus ffffuck-” He grabbed your forehead and pulled it back, licking and biting the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and leaving wet kisses on every inch of your exposed skin.

“That’s it Y/N, so good for me dollface. Gonna make you cum so hard you only think of me and no one else. No man else. God you’re so good to me tonight...I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry baby I love you.” You were suddenly aware of how scared he was, and cried as soon as you heard his apologies.

“I love you James, love you so much. I- you’re everything to me. Shit ‘m close baby, don’t stop Buck please. Need your cum baby...cum for me, cum inside me James please. Fuck please yes yes,” you went almost hysterical with every second you felt his cock dragging against your wet pussy, legs giving out on you and holding onto his arm so you didn’t fall. “Who do you belong to pretty baby? Who fucking owns this pussy? Hmm, shit baby I’m gonna cum fuck fuck r-right there fffffuck-” He screamed his release against your back, biting down on the flesh until he felt your walls fluttering around his hard cock. When you cried out with him, he immediately lowered his hand, rubbing your clit so hard you felt the blood rushing to every vein in your body.

You tried to hold his hand to make him stop but he didn’t care, slapping your pussy as he came in hot spurts inside you, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm and telling you he’s not even close to finishing with you yet.

You fell on the table in front of you, nails digging into his arms until you felt his cock slip out and you squirting all over his pants. He continued to rub your wet pussy, chuckling against your shoulder when you actually started crying from how sensitive you were.

“Such a pretty sight, all for me. So fucking wet for me baby girl shit. So pretty.” He finally stopped when he felt you slipping down against him, unable to keep yourself standing any longer. The two of you were heaving, and Bucky wrapped his arms around you, carrying you up the stairs to your room before laying you on the bed as slowly as possible. He saw your legs still shaking from the intense orgasms he, quite literally, forced out of you. He should’ve felt bad for how wrecked you looked but he was proud that he was the only one that could make you feel this way.

Pulling down his pants, he threw his clothes away and stepped between your legs, stripping you of your clothes and apologizing when his hands touched your thighs. You’ve never come this hard in your life and were hyper-aware of every small touch on your heated skin. Laying next to you, he pulled the covers over the two of you and sighed when you scooted as close to him as possible. He kissed your forehead and apologized one more time before drifting off to sleep.

Hours later, you woke up to something soft and wet around your nipples, eyes opening slowly and looking down only to see Bucky licking and cupping your breasts, a devilish smile gracing his handsome features before he bit down hard and continued to tease you.

“Ahh god yes sir…” You sighed, voice hoarse both screaming and sleeping.

“Naughty little girl, waking me up with this cute little ass of yours rubbing my dick...you having a sex dream about me baby?” Bucky asked, once again rubbing his beard against your nipples and making you arch your back against him. You combed your fingers through his hair, pulling on it until he growled against your skin. You couldn’t take it any longer, begging him to stop teasing and finish off what he started.

“But you’ve been a bad girl doll face...god damn you’re soft,” he drew circles around them, watching each one pebble and harden between his fingers. “Your body’s so ready for me isn’t it darlin?” Bucky looked up and saw you staring right at him, lips lower lip between your teeth and eyes begging him to do something more.

“Always,” you whispered, hoping he’d know what you’ve been trying to tell him all night long. He laughed and shook his head, descending down your body and mapping your exposed skin with as many kisses as possible. As soon as he tapped on your thighs, you opened them for him, goosebumps slowly making an appearance on your skin because of the way he was looking at your pussy.

“Fuck Y/N...your cunt looks so pretty, just wanna devour you baby,” he didn’t waste any more time, raising one leg high above his head before licking a long stripe across your pussy. Your hips bucked involuntarily and he slapped your inner thigh, telling you to behave so he didn’t have to punish you.

“Yes sir..sorry sir,” you sighed, telling him to keep rubbing his beard against your thigh. “So fucking responsive from the smallest touches. Shit baby you’re my world, my fucking universe,” he took your clit between his lips, sucking so hard on the bundle of nerves until you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your orgasm hit you without a warning and you came on his face, gushing and trying to push him away from you. Bucky didn’t give you a chance to pull away from him, metal hand ascending your body until it grabbed hold on one of your breasts and squeezing it tightly while holding your thighs near his face.

He didn’t stop for a second, wanting to make you cum one last time before giving you some time to rest. When your back arched until you sat up and ceased breathing, Bucky slowed down but not before giving you a quick kiss. You fell back down, grabbing your stomach and your neck to try and calm your heart rate. Bucky kissed his way up your body until he faced you. His eyes betrayed his thoughts, focusing on your throat and making you feel like shit all over again.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, hands reaching behind his neck and lowering him down until his lips met yours. “You know I’d never be scared of you right?” You asked, hoping he’d give you the answer you were hoping for.

When he said nothing, you shut your eyes and covered them, not wanting to ruin the moment but knowing there was no holding back the tears. “Buck I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I swear on my life it was because of that dickhead. Not you. Never you!” You hid behind your elbows, letting go of him and attempting to get out of bed.

He kept you between his arms and refused to let you go, pulling your arms down and holding you against him until you stopped crying.

“Okay.” He whispered into your ears and although it was such a small word, it meant the world to you.

“Please stop crying Y/N I can’t stand seeing you crying. Especially when it’s because of me. Please darling.” He took hold of your cheeks and placed your head against his chest. “Hear that sweetheart. I ain’t lying. I trust that you’re telling me the truth. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“No it’s not your fault. You don’t apologize Bucky. You never have to apologize to anyone.” You got a little angry when he tried to turn the tables and he laughed at how serious you became all of a sudden.

“I trust your love baby. I trust your love.” He pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, finally gaining some courage to wrap his metal fingers around your throat and massage the red bruises forming all around. He loved seeing the discoloration that formed on your skin but only when the two of you fucked the breath out of each other. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching you and marking you. Leaning down, he left a small kiss on every inch of your neck, apologizing that he wasn’t there to stop him from grabbing you and wishing he was the one hurt instead.

You sighed with every pass of his soft lips over your flushed skin, pulling on his hair and wrapping your arms around him to bring him closer to you. When he took hold of your waist and turned you around so your back was against his chest, you threw your head back, hands slowly pumping his cock before raising your leg and resting it on his thigh.

He thrust in with ease, his hips bucking in and out of you before he wrapped his palm around your neck again. You looked into each other’s eyes, silently conveying your feelings before your mouths came together for a dizzying kiss.

You could feel his hold tighten around you and you loved it, holding onto the back of his neck to keep his as close to you as possible. No matter how many times he pleasured you, it always felt like the first time for the two of you.

Bucky moaned against you, wanting to say so many things but refusing to pull away from your lips. He told you on several occasions if he could spend the rest of his life kissing you, he would die a happy man. He held you against him, finding peace in feeling your skin sliding against him as he pleasured you. When he felt your nails digging into his back, he snapped his hips harshly, causing you to pull away from him and scream his name against his neck.

“Fuck James...that’s it baby, no one fucks me like you James, ahhhh ff-uck, this pussy is all yours fuck fuck all yours.” As soon as he lowered his hand and flicked your clit, your legs started shaking against him, cunt squeezing him so hard he couldn’t hold back anymore. Sitting up, he turned you until you were on your stomach, raising your hips and holding onto your waist before setting an ruthless pace. You could feel every thing that touched you, biting your pillow as you heard the sounds of his grunts and his skin slapping yours over and over again. This was the first time he said nothing. Instead, he just prayed your name and moaned, looking down and biting his lips as he saw you completely at his mercy.

“Love you...fuck fuck I love you so much doll, so much. My heart is yours baby, my fucking soul has your name written on it. Shit gaaahd fuck ‘m gonna cum darlin your cunt is so hot for me yes….sshit!” He fell on top of you, growling when you milked his cock of every last drop of his cum. You shuddered when you felt him spazzing inside you, loving the way his cock was never soft even after he took his pleasure numerous times during the night.

He didn’t bother to pull out, falling to the side and pulling you towards him. He kissed your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you, telling you to rest because he was definitely going to wake you up again.

A distant ringing made you groan before attempting to stand up and look for the source of noise to stop it. You couldn’t move however, tapping on Bucky’s arm so he could let you go and laughing when he only tightened his arms around you.

“Noo.” He whined, making you laugh at how childish he was sometimes. When you told him you were just grabbing your phone, he managed to let go for a few seconds but kept his arms around some part of you. You unlocked it and saw a million messages from everyone on the team.

“Steve is asking if we’re okay.” You said it more like a question than a comment, wanting to make sure the two of you made up before you got out of your room. When he sleepily told you to tell Steve to ‘kindly fuck off with his righteous shield,’ you laughed and texted him that everything was fine.

[davidthetraveler]

David’s Fic-Rec Friday:  2020/01/24

Hey guys.  Sorry about being gone for so long.  Things have been... a little complicated lately.  But I’m getting back into the swing of things, and as part of that we are starting this back up again.  So then, let’s get going.

Winter Sides by IdiotInATrenchcoat (Tumblr Account Unknown)

It might seem a little late for Christmas, but there’s never a bad time for some Sanders Sides fluff.  In this fic, Deceit finds himself in a bit of a spot due to the temperature of the mindscape dropping because of Thomas’ holiday spirit.  In an effort to get some warmth, he ventures over to the light side of the mindscape as a snake and manages to find Patton, who agrees to let him curl up around his neck like a scarf to warm up.  As previously stated, this does feature Deceit in a sympathetic role, and also mentions Remus in a similarly sympathetic way.  Other than that, it’s just good clean family friendly fluff.

Remy’s Birthday 2020 by screamingatstars (No Tumblr Account)

A simple yet sweet story in honor of the birthday (anniversary of his first appearance) of Sleep, aka Remy.  Remy wakes up to his birthday to find his husband Emile making coffee and breakfast.  That’s basically it, just pure domestic fluff.  There is some mild swearing, but really there’s nothing else to worry about.  Just a fun little bit of happy love.

We Should’ve Been More Careful by CharlieRhees (aka @charcharmoomoo)

I don’t think I will ever not be a sucker for get together fics.  Here, Virgil overhears the other three sides talking about needing to tell him something, and Virgil jumps to the conclusion that they know about his feelings for the three and that they’re going to tell him they don’t reciprocate.  In fact, they’re not aware of his feelings and were wanting to invite him into their relationship, leading to happiness and sappiness.  Don’t you just love when love prevails?

Distraction by SandersFander1820 (aka @sandersfander1820)

A short but sweet story about Virgil having a bad day and Patton finding a way to distract him from his dark thoughts and brooding.  Absolutely worth your time.  Trust me.

In your arms I’ll find the Solution by Eshisakka (aka @eshithepetty)

Another short but sweet little story featuring Patton and Virgil.  But in this rather angstier fic, it’s Patton who’s having the bad day.  And thus it’s Virgil’s turn to offer up the comfort and support he needs.  Again, absolutely worth a read.

The Astronomy Classroom Ghost by anxiouslyfred (aka @anxiouslyfred)

A Hogwarts AU that stars Logan as the ghost of a former student, who spends his days studying and sitting in on the Astronomy and Arithmancy classes.  But his routine is somewhat interrupted by the friendly advances of a living student named Patton and his two friends Roman and Virgil.  While it does feature Logan as a ghost, it doesn’t discuss his death in any way, and is otherwise trigger free.  Perhaps a bit odd to mix a Halloween story in with the Christmas remnants, but whatever.  Time is just an illusion, like death, or pants.

For Roman, With Love. by LiamLogan (aka @supergayandaesthetic)

Another Christmas fic featuring Logan and Roman celebrating with their neighbors Patton and Virgil.  It’s actually rather nice to see a version of Logan with the quirk of actually being all giddy and excited for Christmas.  And the four of them are just so kind to each other, especially the couples.  Truly, a wonderful depiction of the best of what Christmas is all about.

Tag by HorseCrazyWriter76 (Tumblr Account Unknown)

A nice story featuring Deceit observing some of the daily habits and behaviors of his housemates, including his odd friend Remus, Remus’ brother Roman, and Roman’s three boyfriends Logan, Patton, and Virgil.  It’s basically all just domestic fluff with a hint of silliness.  This one does feature Deceit, who chronically lies, but you can tell, as well as Remus, who is pretty chaotic but not too triggeringly so.  And both are sympathetic in this.

One’s True Heart by nobody_home (aka @aturtleonjupiter)

Seriously, I am such a pushover when it comes to getting together fics.  In this Medieval AU, royal advisor Patton is comforted by court magician Logan (at the behest of King Roman) after Deceit, another advisor who is cursed to only speak in lies and half-truths, says that the others only pity him and don’t actually take him seriously.  Logan assures him, and even admits that he has feelings for him, which Patton reciprocates.  Deceit here is portrayed in a morally neutral way, and Remus is barely mentioned, and there are some mentions of supernatural elements.  But other than that you should be good.  With wonderfully colorful descriptions of two people in love, this one will probably make you cry, but in a good way.

Pizza and Nailed It! by LissaWho5 (aka @lamp-calm-sanders)

I probably should have just called this the Moxiety Week post.  We’re ending things this week with another short but sweet story about our resident father figure figment and our dark strange son.  Virgil can’t wait for his husband to get home so they can spend the evening together with pizza and the series Nailed It! on Netflix.  Again, pure domestic fluff, and I absolutely love it.

*****

Well, that does it for this week.  But before we go, there’s one last bit of business.  This week’s Featured Fic Writer is:

shnuffeluv (aka @sanderssidesfanfiction)

A truly prodigious writer with a wonderful talent.  He's even an officially published novelist.  How cool is that?!  And he definitely deserves your love and support.

*****

So, with all that being said, I hope you guys enjoy this week’s selections.  Feel free to give these guys some love and attention with some kudos, some comments, maybe even a few bookmarks.  You won’t be disappointed.

In any case, thanks for your participation.  If you’re interested in learning more about my Fic-Rec Friday program or would like to check out previous weeks’ entries, you can find them all here at my Fic-Rec Friday Masterpost.  And if you’d like to be added to my Fic-Rec Friday Tag List, or if you’re on the list and would like to be removed, just drop me a line either in my messages or my inbox and I’ll take care of it.

Once again, thank you all, and happy reading!

General Tag List:

@ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @panicattheeverywheremcr

Fic-Rec Friday Tag List:

@kunnuglegur-tortimandi @max-is-tired

[crqstalite]

SHADOW OF THE SITH, Ch.14

bit of filler so no one thinks khaak has actually been Kidnapped.

-

BA'SHIRA._ZIOST.

This was going so well, only about forty eight hours ago here on Ziost. Almost two days. For two whole days, she could say that it really was going her way for once. The first time Ba'shira had been with any sort of real family in literal years, and this was how it was going to end? Really? Cooped up in an old apartment and praying that Mako would pick up her holocom and she didn't know, maybe answer after she'd pinged her sixteen thousand times? A cheap apartment on the west side of New Adasta was not supposed to be her tomb, and no Sith was taking her down that easily. She'd taken quite a few in the past, century-old Emperor or otherwise it really shouldn't have been that different or difficult.

Except apparently she wasn't the sole target this time around, which made things way more complicated than they should've been. Not like her typical visit to Nar Shaddaa or Hutta with plenty of headhunters on her tail hoping to capitalize on a bounty that was years old at this point. Instead, the entire planet was going down with her in rakghoul-like glee. Yippee...

It wasn't nearly as fun as it should've been, really. Not as fun as her mind had made her think it was going to be, at least. Hyping up the trip to the Imperial homeworld was the only way to get her mind off of everything (well that made it sound like she was actively being hunted -- which was always). Torian was on a hunt with some of his friends from another clan, and not wanting to be the clinging wife she despised watching on holodramas, she'd decided to visit some of her own friends without making a fuss about it. Mako was gone, off with her boyfriend of a few months (a certain Cathar that she didn't trust as far as she could throw him) and Gault was out being Gault (what that entailed, she wasn't sure and definitely didn't want to know). So she decided that she just had to find a distraction of her own somewhere, with someone else preferably.

That being past Captain J'nell Wryen of their small party of then bounty hunters and smugglers (Thara had always preferred the term 'free traders' while they were travelling but Ba'shira would always call them what they were), and she'd come to pay the aging woman a visit. Well, aging was a strong word, the woman still looked like she was maybe thirty instead of nearing forty-five, but that was beyond the point. Beside drinking together and sharing stories of old and new jobs, it was a comforting time for Ba'shira to be around. Life day was coming up rather soon too, so the other goal was to find something for the crew in the marketplace if she could. If Torian was reconnecting with old friends, well there was no reason his cyar'ika couldn't do the same. Still fuming he didn't invite her along to begin with, but she digressed. By blood, she wasn't Mandalorian (apparently they didn't tend to care as long as you didn't break their code of honor, it still bothered her sometimes, feeling inferior and whatnot), so maybe it was a sort of thing you didn't invite your non-Mandalorian wife to. She'd never know, pride and all getting the better of her.

Didn't mean she wasn't frustrated, their anniversary and yes, the Wookie holiday were both coming up and she'd wanted to spend the days leading up to it with him, but she figured she would be as bad as those women in the holodramas if she begged him to stay back all for her. She knew just how happy and ecstatic he was when he brought things back for her, and another fur rug was never a bad thing in their home. Knowing her cyare had brought it back for her made it all the more sweeter.

She was much overdue for a little me time anyways. How long it had been since she'd laid back, knowing she wasn't on the run and no one was looking for her or needing her with a glass of Corellian whiskey in one hand and a holocom in the other...she did not know. That would have to be remedied more often, the warm feeling that spread through her body as she chuckled and hiccuped with the woman was something she hadn't experienced in what felt like forever. No talk of running anywhere, just them and learning about what the other had been up to in the years past. The woman had been here for years after she'd left their little smuggling crew, hoping to find the twin infant girls she'd spoken so highly of for so long. It'd been a fruitless journey, one that J'nell was still on apparently.

Ba'shira didn't have the heart to tell her that after nearly twenty five years, that it was probably worth giving up the search. As cold-hearted as it sounded, if she and Torian ever had a child (and that was a very big maybe that she had stuck a pin in since they'd been married) and they disappeared for two decades and then some years, it felt right to just let the path go cold. Holding onto things when it was healthy anymore -- to say the least she had some experience in that field. Maybe it was because she wasn't a mother, so maybe she wouldn't understand the grief just yet, but she still didn't want to help J'nell do anything regarding Mellena and Mivonie. Too emotionally draining, and it was taking up a lot of the two days that they'd spent together before everything went to shit. She was here to relax, not get caught up in a conspiracy that had been apparently active for more years than she'd been alive. Not even to mention that they surely had their own lives by now, maybe they didn't want to be found. A look around the apartment didn't immediately say 'welcoming mother' either. As much as J'nell had raised her, circumstances changed, and she couldn't imagine any kid really being happy in a repair shop of all places.

Still, what holorecordings J'nell had left after their birth, Ba'shira could begin to understand why she was so upset. One of them had been around until she was a toddler, and the little voice that she could hear over the botched audio surely struck a chord within her everytime she heard it. The kid had energy, and was surely a bright light in the dim evening years. Poor girl, Ba'shira found herself wondering what she ever got up to. Or if she was even still alive. That part she didn't tell J'nell. She may have had her doubts about everything she was doing but she wasn't a total asshole. But for some reason sitting silent on the couch as the woman ran herself ragged, talking offhandedly about the same subjects over and over again with pieces of armor, tools and whatnot surrounding her, well she felt worse about that. Not much she could do other than just twiddle her thumbs either.

They'd be older than she was by now. Two years, nearly three. Both force sensitive, both just as blonde as the Sith in the holocom that a very drunk J'nell showed her, tears streaming down her face as she cursed the man multiple times and recounted every single horrible thing he ever did to her. Had the man not already been dead (it was galactic news for a while after everything with the Sith went down, and the Wrath had taken one of the better bounties right out from underneath her; would've netted the crew of the Orchid enough credits to trick out the ship again) he might as well be now. If not for the credits, then just for plain revenge on what he'd done to her friend. Why J'nell was only just telling her all of this now in such a fuzzy state was anyone's guess. While they'd been together when she was little more than a lanky teenager with a penchant for fire on the Clarity, she'd never known the full story. In fact, J'nell had been much less willing to even tell the whole thing in the first place, yet here she was now, clutching the holocom in her hands and sobbing that Xalzon hadn't ever treated her right.

Ba'shira could've told her that, but if she wanted support through all of this, that's what she got. Least the woman was a talented armorsmith, she'd be leaving Ziost with her beskar repaired and ready for whatever battle took place next. The repair shop had been the one level-headed idea that J'nell had in all those years, though she shut it down shortly before joining the crew on the Clarity for some reason or the other. A spunky, thirteen year old Ba'shira with a love for the color pink and flames probably would've been able to tell someone, but tired and sleep-deprived twenty two year old Ba'shira couldn't even remember to eat some days, much less remember any of the finer details about her old captain. She picked the business up again a couple years ago, and that's what they were above as she thought now. Didn't see too many customers in the current climate, but it brought in enough credits for her to have a nice place in the city.

That reminded her, wondering about the fates of Zhonani, her partner Aethreen, Thara, her young son Axis and even Khaak, as many differences as they had.  After leaving once the crew was disbanded at absolutely horrid teen age of sixteen, to say that she was -- that she felt alone was an understatement. She had missed her found family dearly in the years past (and had to return to Rwenne and La'anthra saying that they had been right about her needing to stay around), but after she'd been swept up into the Great Hunt at Braden's request two years later, that had become the furthest thing from her mind. Now they were entire mysteries to her. J'nell had been a lucky find, as she'd still had her old com code and it still worked to her surprise. Beyond that, she was grabbing at straws and hoping they were the right ones.

She missed her found family. Much as she loved the crew of the Orchid, it wouldn't ever be the same and she knew it. Still, the little victories would have to do for now. Such as these moments she was able to spend with her. No one ever knew when they'd die, and for someone like J'nell, that could be just about any day now with her drinking problem and how bad it had gotten over the last couple of years.

Also, because fate was a total dick, at least to her. All of this had really started two days ago, give or take in the middle of the night. At least, it'd finally hit their part of New Adasta.

The middle of her damned beauty sleep. The Emperor really had the nerve, huh?

First the screams had woken her up into a panic, startling her into thinking she was back on Hutta or something. Thinking someone had broken into the apartment, had already killed J'nell and they were then coming for her too. Sleepily reaching for her blaster and taking a shot at who she then discovered to be J'nell in the kitchen because she had been so spooked, she had managed to calm down when a return shot nearly hit her in the darkness of the apartment, knocking a holophoto behind her off-kilter from it's place on the wall, crashing to the ground with sound of it falling apart on impact just behind her. That was a moment that she'd bury in the corner of her mind until the day she died, as J'nell flicked on a light with her dilated blue eyes with fear wavering out of them.

Well, the years surely hadn't taken their toll on J'nell's aim. That was a welcome surprise. Well, it would've been if it didn't nearly take her out in cold blood.

So the scream hadn't be the older blonde woman's. That was a relief in itself as she apologized to the woman hurriedly and dashed out onto the balcony with J'nell on her heels as another one rang out in the night. At first Ba'shira can't see anything, and is convinced that maybe it was part of a dream or hallucination. Still, with how shrill it had sounded she didn't want to give up on it that quickly, afraid it meant something worse. How close it had been to her own mother's scream that was etched into her memories from her childhood years spooked her. Scanning the area, the darkness of the night cycle keeps her from really taking in most of the situation before she sees a blue lightsaber light. The plasma's light is enough to illuminate the situation, and she covers her mouth with a hand in horror as someone's body is stabbed through with the lightsaber. J'nell's hand finds her shoulder in the darkness, attempting to gently yank her back from the balcony and back inside. At first, Ba'shira stays, held in place by fear as the lightsaber wielding person continues on, slashing through the rest of the person's party with unadulterated rage.

Weren't Jedi supposed to be the hypocrite good guys? Why would they just be tearing through people like little more than fodder for their lightsabers? Not that Ba'shira ever wanted to support them, she didn't care for force-wielding matters but it was odd. Scary even. Unusual, wrong and downright weird.

They turn upwards once they've finished with who is before them, maybe looking directly up at where she was standing. Ba'shira couldn't see where their gaze landed, but J'nell just knows. J'nell yanks her backwards with some sort of motherly strength back into the apartment and just far enough away that when the lightsaber makes an arc through where the bounty hunter had just been standing, Ba'shira watches in wide-eyed horror to where her corpse would've laid on the ground. Hurriedly J'nell makes for the curtains, shuttering them closed over the balcony's windows.

Her eyes are bloodshot. Maybe she's been at this longer than Ba'shira has, awake longer than she has been. Reacted to the screaming far faster than she had. Hopefully not kept up by nightmares or the buzz of caff, but the cups that litter the table and the datapad that's still glowing dimly on the table say otherwise. They'd talk about her obsession with finding Mellena and Mivonie at another date, but the only words out of her mouth are a pure, condensed few words to tell exactly what's bouncing around in her head, "What the fuck was that, J'nell? Not sure I'm liking your part of town as much anymore."

She runs a hand through her hair, flickering the lights back off one by one until Ba'shira can only see the woman's silhouette with the dim office lights shining onto much of anything. Ba'shira isn't put anymore at ease in the silence, all except for the buzzing of the holoterminal nearby, "I don't know, Shira. I really don't. Blazes, if I would know any better I'd say that was a Jedi out there. Jedi aren't ever on Ziost...Ziost is Imperial territory."

"You think they are now?" Ba'shira asks, picking herself up tenderly from where she'd been thrown onto the ground. She wants to walk back up to the window, look back outside, let her curiousity take the better of her. But the stricken expression on J'nell's face keeps her from doing otherwise as the woman sits delicately on the couch. Too delicately. Any other day she'd flop down on the worn thing but now...now she sits there with her head in her hands. Wound up probably, but as she leans back her eyes that she can just barely see gives her entire story away, "'Nell, you know something, don't you?" Ba'shira asks, concerned.

"No...not much more than just rumors. And rumors can't ever be trusted, right?" J'nell asks tiredly, pulling a half empty bottle of whiskey out from under the table, unscrewing the top to take a swig before Ba'shira rips the bottle away from her. The look of pure betrayal, of need is evident on her face as she swipes for it with a tired arm. Usually her reflexes are better, but her arm is also shakier than usual, "Shira."

"No more. This," She gestures to the bottle, "and this," she gestures to the datapad and everything else that covers the table. A picture of a blonde toddler looks up at her with surely bright blue eyes just like her mother, and Ba'shira can't help but roll her eyes, "All this goes away until you give me an answer. You always have an in, 'Nell. You always have, and I know that look in your eyes. You know something I don't."

"There have been...rumors that the Republic is planning to invade. Made it down the vine the last couple of days. All that stuff that went down on Yavin with the Pubs? Chances are that won't last very long. Treaty of Coruscant is already in shambles because people can't sit still anymore, the Republic is already starting their push on Balmorra again. Only seems fitting they'd attack here next, especially as some big fancy show of power. Can see galactic headlines now, 'Republic takes the Gateway to The Empire'. Can I have my whiskey back now?" J'nell says, quickly and longwinded before she tries to take the bottle back again, standing this time. Ba'shira has no height on the other woman, so she gives up and hands it back, "Why I'm like this, kid? I ain't got anything left anywhere. After the Clarity, you think things got better? No. This has been my home for years, and to just see someone die out there? Hell, it just might be my time." J'nell shakes her head, slowly sipping at the liquid with disappointment in her eyes.

"Does the Empire know? Not that I'm interested in helping them, but I don't want the Republic paying my bills." Ba'shira deadpans. Not much else she can do on that front, she and J'nell know loss like an old friend who's always there for the rainy days and nights that nothing else matters. She shakes her head after she takes in what J'nell had just admitted to, "Do we need to get out of here? Is there a chance there are more Jedi like that one crawling over Ziost with all their weird Force powers?"

"Hey, I'm not military or Intelligence. Take that up with Miss Beniko, new head of Intelligence last I heard." J'nell responds, looking moreso at the now half empty glass bottle than her company, "Just rumors. It'll probably clear up within the next couple of days. As you'll learn about us Ziostian folk, we don't exactly let our friends and neighbors just die on us without a fight."

As she goes back to bed, Ba'shira wants to believe that. There are plenty more screams that night, she knows because she can't go back to sleep. That's a horrifying sight, even though she has seen plenty other Sith go about their business. Mierrio comes to mind, their time on Makeb flickering through her memories. But those were pirates, pirates who were horrible people and killed folks for their own gain. The person who'd just died down there...maybe they had a family. Friends. People who cared about them.

And they'd just died.

It doesn't improve into the wee hours of the morning when she's considering finding her own bottle of alcohol to help her sleep as she hears three more screams over the next few hours into when the sun rises over the planet. She gets three hours of sleep within that first day, and that day is the day when everything goes to shit. The screams get louder. She goes out for J'nell to the market and just barely makes it back with her life and a week worth of food. It logically doesn't make any sense, and it wasn't just Jedi -- in fact she didn't see another one until a week later. Common people, the military, hell even Sith had lost their minds and took out whoever walked in their path. If It wasn't for J'nell's extensive knowledge of not only the underworld and back roads in New Adasta as she was literally running to survive the next few minutes, there was no way she would've made it to the apartment without suffering a few injuries or even losing her life. The first time she employed a grappling hook in her entire life was that day, and while exhilarating to watch the world pass by underneath her, it was also terrifying in a way she didn't want to experience ever again. The red mist that seemed to evaporate off the people who were going mad...it was so unnatural, and that was coming from Ba'shira, who had definitely seen some shit while working for Sith in the Citadel. She'd never seen this before.

Com connections started to waver halfway through that day. When she'd gone to contact the Orchid and arrange a pick up for later that night, nothing had gone through as it should've. Static, some basic communication but no visual. Almost no audio. She and J'nell discovered it was due to some communications tower being down nearby, entirely destroyed earlier in the day. It explained the explosions that had jarred her throughout the entire experience, at the very least. And with just about every civil brain cell down in the city, there surely wouldn't be any repair crew coming in.

Ba'shira was not having any fun, now that much was clear as day, as redundant as the phrase got she was sticking by it. Stuck in an apartment with an alcoholic widow with people screaming throughout the night? Please. This was supposed to be an outing she was supposed to enjoy. If this was all some elaborate plan by the Imperial government to flush her out of hiding (wasn't unheard of, it'd nearly worked on Alderaan just before Gault smelled something off about the whole thing and subsequently got them off the planet before she was thrown into the slammer for any arbitrary amount of time), it was not going to work. She'd probably blow herself up tinkering with the holoterminal before that happened. Intelligence was a slippery bunch, but considering how many times she'd carried out operations (bounties with a much higher price on them) for the secretive branch of Imperial government, she'd like to say she could sleep with one eye open instead of both when she was on Imperial-sanctioned soil.

Except now both are open. Closing them seems like way too much of a security risk right now. And that isn't a chance she should really be taking.

Just the night before she'd been sleep in the room J'nell had provided for her, unconsciously tossing and turning between being halfway awake and her eyes closing on her. Finally a few 'just passed out in my clothes' instead of actual sleep hours, before yet another attack happened. This time she was slower getting up, quieter grabbing her blaster out of it's holster on her thigh and slipping out of her room. J'nell must've still been out cold, because she faces this threat by herself. No sounds of entry on her first scan of the room, nothing had been touched. Picking her way across the room, something glints out of the corner of her eye. Whirling around, she takes aim before realizing it's just stray piece of durasteel armor. Imperial, the red and black staring at her ominously.

Pushing the curtains aside, all she sees is black at first, before stepping backwards and looking up. She stifles a scream before they hit the window hard with the butt of their rifle, a male Imperial soldier now that she looks properly. He tilts his head sarcastically, a red Zabrak with cuts all over his face and his eyes the color of white bantha milk. A smile that is much too stretched, too forced to be anywhere near natural. Without his helmet too, meaning he'd lost it at some point before this and the Emperor hadn't bothered to retrieve it. He bangs against the window again, this time with more force and she reminds herself immediately that she was not here to gawk in awe. Cocking the blaster, she wonders how he even managed to get up so high, considering J'nell lived on the twentieth floor of the apartment building.

Stars, if they can fly now, she thinks sarcastically, deciding to observe the situation as long as it warranted. What was the rule of thumb again? No quick movements? That worked with rakghouls about one out of four times, that one time being when she'd first met Torian and she was covered in their entrails. Her hand hesitates over the door handle, considering. She can't shoot him through the transparisteel, that would shatter it and probably get her kicked to the curb. Not to mention if he got up here, that meant plenty of others could as well. And that would leave J'nell with a biting breeze through the apartment.

He bangs against the transparisteel again, and she backs up. If she closes the blinds maybe he'll leave, she thinks stupidly. She sees a hairline crack in the material, and she knows she has to make a decision fast and now before he does it for her. With one fluid motion, she throws open the transparisteel window. He's too slow to take aim for her, and when he does, she's already moved and he's shot J'nell's holoterminal.

Well, she'd pay for it later. Not like the shop didn't bring in any credits to get her a brand new one.

Ba'shira prided herself on being a quick draw artist, and it came in handy as she makes quick work of the situation, shooting him quick in the thigh of his armor. Distracted by it for just a moment with the sheer force of the blaster and being in such close quarters, she manages to slip around and knock him backwards in quick succession. Leaning against the guardrail, she figures he'll have one hell of a headache in the morning before he kicks him over with a final thrust of her leg into his chest. Brutal, yes, but the job is done. The spookiest thing is that she can't hear him scream if he does. Other than the whistle of cool wind playing with her hair, it's quiet. Much too quiet. For a planet dying, she figures there should be way more noise.

There isn't even a loud thump she can hear. A part of her hopes he hit a snowbank or something. Looking around, she finds that the balcony has a small bridge connecting it to another apartment. She curses, finding another one on the opposite side. They'd have to watch for invaders from that direction too.

There is some sound though, about twenty minutes later as she tries to explain to J'nell how her holoterminal had gotten shot in between the fifteen minutes of sleep she'd gotten. The sound of gunshots picks back up in their direction, fires raging below them. Today isn't a day to go out then, especially with Jedi and now Republic troops wandering around in an Emperor-fueled acid trip. Republic forces had arrived that night, and other than the occasional gossip and naysayers from the neighbors of the small apartment, there weren't very many answers to find. No one knew why they were here just yet, or even when most of them got here exactly. Under the cover of darkness, anything could happen, and it seemed that the Republic rightfully took advantage of the confusion and sent them down here. Her bet with an older Togruta next door was ramping up to one hundred credits that the oh so wonderful Chancellor Saresh had something to do with it all.

Ba'shira intended to win. And with everything going on that side of the galaxy, it seemed like in the worst way, she was right yet again.

Then, she and J'nell wake the third day after the chaos started. Ba'shira intends to finally sleep, it's quiet enough to and she's just snuggled into bed when she hears the window open again. Of course, it's open. There was a crash not that long ago, and J'nell is getting overly curious about them all. To report back, of course, to compare it with other crashes they'd witnessed earlier in the week. She's just dozing off into nap land when the window opens again and something hits the ground hard. Not even bothering to pop up all that quickly, she prays it isn't a dead body that the woman has brought home this time. Worse, that it isn't J'nell's body that's hit the floor.

In her sleep clothes, she picks up her now well-used blaster (she'd just bought it a month beforehand, and now she knew it like the back of her hand with all the action she was seeing in a residential area) and slips outside her room. Scanning the area, J'nell is thankfully still standing, though has the grappling hook gun in her hand again. Stars, that means she'd taken a trip down to the streets without telling her again. She has her outside clothes on, with her electrostaff and other various weapons on her back and in her holsters. Ba'shira had told her earlier in her trip that against folks with blasters, she wouldn't stand a chance but the older woman stood her ground on the purchase, claiming that Xalzon had taught her a few techniques before he'd left. It probably helped that electricity was one of the functions. It did malfunction at times, but apparently nothing the mechanic couldn't handle. Ba'shira wonders just how many times she'd been shocked to hell and back and wasn't telling her.

She was talking to someone in a hushed voice. Great, now they had another roommate to look after. Or another intruder, but J'nell would've shot by now. Half dead then, is the idea she has about this new person.

"Nice place you've got here." A voice says, deeply feminine from in the lounge. Definitely doesn't have the same deep grizzle as the Emperor did, so she isn't on such high alert anymore. No one that's being actively controlled then. J'nell responds with something she can't hear, a grin on her face as the Twi'lek picks herself up off the ground.

"Welcome to the end of a world, kid." J'nell answers, before Ba'shira lowers her blaster. A friend from somewhere else in the city maybe, and she steps into the lounge to get a better look at the Twi'lek. She's tall, but not too much taller than Ba'shira is, and is wearing a ripped jacket, leathris pants and knee high boots. She hadn't seen many female Twi'lek without a headdress before, but this one collapses onto the couch in a heap with it in pieces in her pocket. Her eyes tighten closed, and blood dribbles out of many cuts along her face and lekku. She must've just managed to just barely escape the warfare down below with J'nell, because a few look nearly fatal and a bump is growing on her forehead.

"Shira, you probably heard me come in, huh?" J'nell asks, turning her attention from the woman for a moment, "So I know what I said--"

"No more people, please. How do you know the Emperor didn't take control of her too?" She asks in a hushed voice, "Everyone's vulnerable, he just hasn't turned his attention to us yet."

"Crashed outside in a shuttle, by the way. Your friend Cadera here saved me from certain death." A groan from the couch makes it evident that yes, the woman had heard her. She wheezes in another breath, and Ba'shira realizes that there's a lot more blood than she'd first thought (after she realizes that J'nell has yet again given her maiden last name to a stranger). The stains are growing on her jacket and cloth armor, a crimson red that Ba'shira isn't sure she wants to know just how much it's soaked up from her injuries. Surely she was punctured in a few places due to hitting the ground at such a high speed in a durasteel death trap, and one of the holsters is missing a blaster. A crash in a shuttle? Wouldn't she know not to be flying through this area, especially with the anti-air canons being the way they were? Better yet, Ba'shira's curious how she's even managed a shuttle to begin with. She shifts positions, pushing her lekku over her shoulder, "Can you turn the lights down? Like, all the way down?"

"The lights are down, Beniko." J'nell responds, making for one of her cabinets and rummaging around inside. Probably to find a kolto patch. Ba'shira wants to tell her that anything short of a kolto bath probably is going to do little more than just knock her out for a couple hours and make her wake up with one hell of a bodyache, "Just try to relax, yeah? Don't aggravate any of those wounds."

"Beniko? Like the new Minister?" Ba'shira asks, leaning against a wall and placing her blaster on a nearby end table before sliding into the lounge couch across from her, "You're definitely not the new one, are you?"

"Nope. That would be my wife." She responds, trying to open her eyes again. Ba'shira flickers the light over the lounge off, and pressing a button the console of the holoterminal to illuminate the small space. Bathed in the blue light, the woman has the brightest blue eyes she's ever seen once she's able to register what's going on, "Beyond the fact that I just lost her more than half a million credits in that ship, Lana is going to kill me herself for nearly dying."

"If your injuries don't first." J'nell says sarcastically, returning with her meager box of medical supplies, "I've got kolto patches, raw kolto, and painkillers. Take your pick."

"Thanks for that, Cadera." The Twi'lek responds, a gentle smile on her face as she reaches across for something. She strains herself too far trying to shuffle her jacket off, as she bites her lip and rubs the green sticky material over one of the cuts on her arm. Ba'shira doesn't usually shy away from serious injuries, in fact she had plenty over the course of her life, but Beniko's are a kind that she winces at, feels vicariously through the barely bitten back yelps of pain, "Ya'll have been living through all of this? Intelligence just came in today."

"We noticed." Ba'shira deadpans, flickering up a map of New Adasta onto the holoterminal, "I don't live here. I just got stuck here on a very unfortunate sleepaway trip two days ago."

"Got a name?" She asks. Ba'shira raises an eyebrow, considering whether or not to give it to her. Complete stranger (as far as she knows), wife to the Minister of Imperial Intelligence, the same Intelligence that keeps trying to hunt her down time after time for breaking a lot of laws in the past year alone...hard pass, "Hey, no offense at all. Can't keep calling you stranger though." She says after Ba'shira crosses her arms in defiance.

"I'd rather not give you my name, but you can call me Shira." She proposes, instead, deflecting the question entirely as news headlines scroll along the bottom of the map in a dizzying array of aurebesh, "What about you?"

"If we're all going by codenames," She stops to focus on managing a patch on her shoulder and a sigh of relief escapes her once it sticks, "Call me Captain."

"Her name is Khaak. You've been in a lot of tabloids lately, Captain. I was just reading about you before you crashed," J'nell responds, somehow managing a datapad in that amount of time. Ba'shira's attention has been piqued, swiveling her head at the pink Twi'lek in surprise, "Old article, but I can't believe I didn't realize it before when you first told me who you were."

"Article? Which one? The one from what, two years ago?" Khaak questions, leaning over the blonde woman's shoulder, "Oh yeah that is definitely old. I'll admit though, I looked pretty damn good in that tux that day."

"Khaak!?" Ba'shira can't keep her tone down, throwing her hands out in surprise, "'Nell, you're not more concerned that she's here?"

"You weren't aware? I've known where she was for years," J'nell responds, shrugging her shoulders, "The part about being married to a Sith Lord, that part is only relatively new, only maybe two or three years old."

"Who are you, anyway?" Khaak's attention diverts back to her, pushing a hand up to her head with a smile on her face. Nursing a headache then, "Shira?"

"Don't patronize me." She responds at the tone given. Sarcasm then, but she's beginning to put together the memories the two of them had before the Clarity's crew fell apart. She's gotten a lot older, though not old enough to have any visible wrinkles apparently. How long has it been? Nearly six years since she'd last seen her or anyone else for that matter. Now that she really thought about it, she had seen Khaak's picture with the blonde Minister a few times in some holomags while flickering around for good deals.

"Still spunky little Ba'shira, eh?" Khaak asks, chuckling before she doubles over actually coughing, or choking. Once she recovers, she still has that smile on her face that Ba'shira swore to wipe off her snarky face all those years ago after she'd been denied the ability to fly the freighter ship. And all the times the older woman had bullied her into accepting less than fair pay until she got smart about it, "You got somebody waitin' for you back home now, Ione? Figure you're a real catch these days."

"Yes." Ba'shira deadpans, grimacing at the use of her birth name. She'd changed it after joining the crew for a reason, and thankfully no one other than Khaak knew it. But it was also horrible because no one other than Khaak knew it, and could use it against her, like now, "And before you ask, no you can't have his name."

"Just trying to make peace, not war. 'Nough of that going around right now," Khaak holds up both hands, the same shit-eating grin that she immediately ties back to their last heist as a crew. Her expression falls after a moment though, "Any of ya'll got a ship out of here? I don't know when or if Lana can send anyone to come get me."

"If I did, we wouldn't be here." J'nell responds tiredly, putting her head in her hands and pulling the grappling hook out of her holster and down on the holoterminal as she looks over the Twi'lek, "Well, I would. Shira wouldn't."

"Damn straight," She interrupts angrily, "I ain't here by choice right now. Last couple of days haven't exactly been the best days of my life either."

"I figure. If it makes you feel any better, Imperial Intelligence is doing their best to clamp down on what's going wrong." Khaak says, pausing as she picks up her jacket again from the ground and rummaging around in the pockets for her holocom, surely. She swears under her breath, "J'nell, you didn't pick up my com by any chance, did you?"

J'nell averts her eyes, a clear answer of no. The Twi'lek groans, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees before immediately having to lie back again, "You think you can go back down there and grab it?"

"Pub patrols are probably coming through this area again. I don't know if they're shooting on sight, but I'm not taking my chances." J'nell responds, running a hand through her hair. She's right, patrols of Republic forces have quickly become more frequent and more routine in the last twenty four hours. Controlled or not, they are't friendly and probably would be willing to kill if given the chance or provoked in such a manner, "Give it another couple hours, then I'll go down for a quick moment and see if it's still there."

"I can't wait a couple hours." Khaak complains, putting a hand over her eyes to surely block out the light above her, "Lana's going to be looking for me, and if she can't on her own, I'm afraid she's going to tear through a city block to find me without a regard for who she hurts."

"Who let her be Minister then?" Ba'shira counters, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, "Isn't that like rule one of every major position with power? That you don't let your personal life get in with you business life?"

"If anything can't she put out an alert? Sure she can bypass any comm towers." J'nell gives her a warning look with her grey eyes, and Ba'shira rolls her own, "If not that, you're definitely staying put. At least until you can walk six feet without looking like you just threw back a liter."

"But--" J'nell's look yet again shuts another person down, and she crosses her arms. Not even a moment later, she makes another decision and it happens to at least be a good one, "Fine then. Intelligence has intel that the reason there are so many Republic forces on planet, including Havoc and Mayhem squad, is because a certain Theron Shan brought the Sixth Line of Jedi on planet a few days ago. Blah blah blah, Vitiate, or the Emperor, is rising again but instead of a force sensitive planet, he plans to kill everyone here so he has enough energy to start terrorizing the rest of the galaxy again."

"Sixth Line?" J'nell asks, crossing one leg over the other, blowing a hair out of her face and slipping the scarf off from around her neck, "I thought there was just the Green Jedi and the Order itself?"

"I don't know much more than you do, honestly. All this is just stuff Lana's brought home lately," Khaak confirms what she'd seen the other day with the Jedi outside. Then there were Jedi here, even if no one knew particularly why. Who even was Theron Shan? Shan sounded familiar, though she couldn't figure why right then, "I was supposed to be searching for him somewhere in New Adasta, but obviously I got shot down first. Did you guys see a ship coming down in the last couple of days?"

"There are ships and speeders and just about everything crashing these days. Not much to differentiate them all from each other, can't exactly smell Pub from here," J'nell says, scratching the back of her neck, "Plus, I'm sure Shan was on the run anyways, wouldn't be much evidence to find. This is Imperial territory anyway. Isn't like his type to be here."

"Of course, yeah. But it'd still be good to find him, he is essentially the ringleader of this mess." Khaak responds, "Not that we're friends at all, pretty sure they intend to just find him to get details on why the Sixth Line is here to begin with. If you two can help me get off Ziost and could help me dig up some dirt, I'm sure I could get you on priority evac."

Ba'shira perks up at the offer, shooting a look at J'nell that isn't reciprocated, "Priority evac, you say? What exactly would I need to do, bring him in cold or warm?"

"What do you mean, warm or cold? We need him alive to answer questions, Ione." Khaak says in that tone she despises, the one that makes her feel like she's thirteen again, "This is not a bounty by any means at all."

"Fine then." She huffs, and Khaak moves to tinker with the holoterminal, "Hey, what're you doing with that?"

"Seeing if I can connect it to anyone's com code. Lana's is encrypted, so chances are she wouldn't answer anything from here, but if I can get the Wrath's, she could probably lead me back to her," Khaak says, rushing forward again. She holds a hand to her head from the quick movement, blood spilling out of her nose in a red river. She wipes it away with the back of her hand and opens a panel on the opposite side of the machine.

"The Wrath?" J'nell's eyes widen at the title as if it's the most important thing she's heard all day, "As in the Empire's Wrath, number one on Imperial's World holomag as one of the most beautiful women in the galaxy?"

"You read a lot of tabloids," Khaak sounds mildly interested at this, though she's terribly stuffed up now as she holds a hand up to her nostrils, "But yes. Same Sith, for now five years in a row. Got one hell of a temper from what I hear."

"No wonder, with a title like 'Wrath'." Ba'shira commented as she gets up to circle the holoterminal and watches as the Twi'lek goes about her work. If there was anything to appreciate about Khaak, it was her nimble hands and how well she not only piloted, but also sliced things. Not nearly as good as Zhonani or Thara, but the skill was still there, "You're really about to go bothering one of the most influential people in the Empire?"

"If she wouldn't hurt Lana, she wouldn't hurt me. Don't worry so much, Ione." Khaak reiterates, "Besides, I don't know Nine's com code and not entirely sure I want to try hacking into that. Ain't lookin' to lose my head today or any other day for that matter."

"You've come to the wrong place if you're looking to hunker down and live, but I won't stop you." J'nell responds, pushing herself up off the couch and stretching, "It's nearly time for dinner. You hungry?"

"I could eat, yeah." Khaak nods, before stilling her head. She's got to have a pounding headache, and the look at her exposed back as Ba'shira tilts her head to take in the rest of the damage makes her wince. As mean as she wanted to be, Khaak had probably nearly died down on the streets from that crash. No sympathy was usually warranted for spacers, but Ba'shira's waning on that rule.

Still hurts, but she's yanked from memory lane as Khaak starts talking, "What was that?"

"Who's the kid? 'Nell's?" One of the holocoms with Mellena's earliest and only photo has flickered back on when Khaak had jostled it.

"Definitely ain't mine. Yeah, 'Nell's daughter Mellena. Why?" Ba'shira asks as Khaak lifts her hand from the sparking wires until she can connect them again.

"Looks a lot like the Wrath. Not much to go off of, obviously, but can't you see the likeness? It's in the nose and the lips, not to mention the eyes." She dives back into her rewiring, essentially leaving the conversation. For a moment, Ba'shira wants to scoff at the assumption. There was no way J'nell was the mother to the Empire's entire hope and future. Mellena had been taken by red Sith shortly before her six month birthday apparently, and then not a word after that as far as Ba'shira was concerned. The Wrath had never spoken of her parents to the public, but it didn't ever seem like the Amarillis' or the Quinns were red Sith. Not that she cared, of course, but it was a weird connection to make.

Ba'shira is ready to call Khaak out, maybe as just a joke, but under closer inspection of the wavering picture, she can unfortunately see what her previous Captain saw. She still doubts it, but even the implication hangs over her for the rest of the day.

After she was off Ziost, she could wonder about that. But for now, Theron Shan was her meal ticket off a dying world. He'd better watch his back.

[justanoutlawfic]

Why Did It Have To Be Me?: 3/3

Trigger warning: mentions of child abuse, marital abuse, rape and incest.

This story took a different turn than I expected. There will be a sequel to this fic, I promise. In the meantime, let me know what you think.

Also on AO3

Mary Margaret walked into her house, her eyes feeling heavy. She wanted to sleep for the next 10 years, pretend like she didn’t just go through the worst night of her life. She was the reason why David and Kathryn weren’t working out.

 Inside of her was a tiny life, one that would be dependent on her for the next 18 plus years. It scared her to death to think about. She thought of her mother, who had always been so patient and kind to her. Her mother who never seemed scared.

 How had she done it?

 As Mary Margaret turned down the hallway, she heard her father clearing his throat. She flinched, clamping her eyes shut. Once upon a time, Mary Margaret and Leopold had been close, they had all been. Then Eva died and everything changed. He poured himself into his work and was barely ever home. She had Johanna to help her mourn her mother, but it still wasn’t easy.

 Not 2 years after Eva had died, Leopold was getting married again. This time, it was to Regina Mills. Mary Margaret knew of her, the daughter of Cora and Henry Mills. She wasn’t much older than her, barely out of high school. She didn’t know at the time, but it had been a complete business arrangement between Leopold and Regina.

 She could hear Regina’s screams every night and saw how she went from a kind, sweet woman to a hollow shell, who barely ever smiled. She tried to keep a brave face for her step-daughter, but it was too late. Mary Margaret tried to stand up for her, but it was no use. Bruises covered both of their bodies and there was no use in fighting. They were both his prisoner.

 Until Regina finally broke free. She had fallen in love with their gardener, Daniel Colter. She told Mary Margaret she would’ve taken her with her, but she had no legal claim to her. While Regina had begged Leopold to let her adopt her, he knew better. He knew that their marriage wouldn’t last forever and he wouldn’t risk losing his daughter. After a messy divorce, Regina had settled out of town with Daniel on a farm. It had been 3 years since then and Mary Margaret would sneak off to see her when she could, but it was difficult.

 “Hi Daddy,” she whispered softly.

“You’re home earlier than I expected.”

“It wasn’t that much fun.”

Leopold nodded. “That…or were you just not feeling that well?”

“Huh?”

 He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test. Mary Margaret felt her stomach flip flop. She had hidden it well, hadn’t she? She wanted to hide it from her father until she could find a way out.

 “Daddy…”

“Who is the father?” Leopold asked quietly.

“I…I don’t know.”

 She couldn’t let anything happen to David. Leopold was possessive and cruel, there was a reason why David was the first person she was ever with.

 Leopold rose from his seat and walked over to his daughter, allowing the test to fall from his hands. He grabbed her by the chin and looked her directly in the eye.

 “Tell me who the father is.”

“I don’t know, I swear!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I…I got drunk and slept with someone at a party! He was gone when I woke up the next morning! I never got his name!”

“So, you’re telling me that my daughter is a dirty little slut?”

“Daddy, please.” Mary Margaret trembled under his grip. “You’re hurting me!”

“How could you let this happen? I thought I raised you better than this! I don’t want some bastard for a grandchild!”

Mary Margaret snapped, feeling violently protective of her child. “Well, just one year ago, it could’ve been yours!”

 Leopold’s eyes widened and he moved his hand from her chin, smacking her across the face. She held her cheek and felt the tears falling down her stinging skin. Leopold had come home drunk one night, claiming that everything was her fault. She had picked Daniel to work for them, she had known about his affair with Regina. If not for Mary Margaret, he’d still have a wife.

 She wanted to make people happy so damn badly, she could please him.

 “Get the fuck out of my house,” he whispered.

“Gladly.”

 She turned on her heel and headed for the stairs, but he grabbed her by her arm.

 “No. Everything you have is mine. You leave with that dress on your back and trust me, that is a pleasantry.”

 Mary Margaret knew that some of the stuff upstairs wasn’t necessarily from him. She nannied for the neighbors down the road and had used it to buy some of her own things. Still, it wasn’t worth the argument.

 “I’m taking my car,” she said.

“I’ll impound it.”

“Fine.”

 She grabbed her keys, anyway. She knew where she was going and they’d help her with transportation. Storming out of her house, Mary Margaret got behind the wheel. Looking in the mirror, she could see the bruises forming on her chin, the red handprint on her right cheek. It wasn’t as bad as it could be. At least she had escaped alive.

David managed to convince James to go to the after party without him. Kathryn went as well, not saying two words to him after their dance. David couldn’t blame her, he’d hate him too. He had been leading her on for far too long.

 He walked into the house and threw his keys up on the hook. Ruth was puttering around the kitchen, making tea.

 “Hey, Ma.”

Ruth jumped and turned around, chuckling. “Oh, David. I wasn’t expecting you home, I swore you and James were going to the afterparty.”

“He did...I wasn’t in the partying mood.”

She studied his face, walking closer to him. “What happened, baby? Did you and Kathryn have a fight?”

 The worried look on her face brought guilt to David’s stomach. She was such a good mother, she worked her butt off to give him and James a good life. How could he do this to her? How could he give up Yale and the whole life that she wanted for him?

 Mary Margaret would understand, she’d have to. She had a full ride to an Ivy League, too. They could give the baby to someone that could give him or her the best life possible. If Mary Margaret was insistent on keeping the baby, he’d find a way to pay child support and visit as much as he could.

 He had already broke one heart that night, he couldn’t break another.

 “We broke up,” he managed to get out. It wasn’t exactly a lie, it just wasn’t the full truth either.

“Oh, honey.” Ruth put her hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry, I know how much you liked her.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. You’re about to head off to college. You don’t want any distractions.” She let out a content sigh. “College. You and James will be the first people in this family to go. I am so incredibly proud of you, baby boy. You know that?”

David bit down on his lip, his stomach twisting. “Yeah, Ma. I know.”

Mary Margaret tossed bac

k and forth in her sleep that night. She had driven to Regina and Danie’s, telling them everything. Regina iced her bruises while Daniel said he’d call the police, but Mary Margaret knew it’d be no good. His lawyer, Albert Spencer, would have him out within seconds and it’d only further put her and the baby at risk. She told them about the baby and her plans, and they said they’d support her. She could live with them and they’d help her raise it.

 It should’ve been enough to comfort her and yet, she still couldn’t sleep.

 Around 2 AM, she headed towards the bathroom to pee. She paused when she heard Daniel’s voice traveling from upstairs.

 “We can’t afford another mouth to feed, Regina.”

“You heard her, she’ll get a job.”

“She’s got a high school education and will be attending class plus raising a baby. How much money can she really make? And where will it go when we all have to work? We’re going to end up financially responsible.”

“Daniel…”

“I want to help her, I do. I just don’t see how we can make it work.”

“We have to try! I’ve been her, Daniel. I was in her shoes and I got away. I was lucky to have you, we’re all she has.”

“I want to help her, I do. Just look at it realistically, Regina.”

“We’ll make it work,” Regina insisted, the firmness in her voice. “I won’t let her go on the streets.”

“Well, what about the father? Do you think he’ll be able to help much? She goes to a private school, doesn’t she?”

“He’s a scholarship student, his mom owns a failing farm in town.”

“So, in short…no help there.”

 Mary Margaret shut her eyes, biting down on her lip hard. She should’ve known better than to come to Regina and Daniel’s. They were some of the kindest people she had ever met and they’d risk everything for her, but it wasn’t fair. They already had a 2-year-old son to tend to.

 They didn’t need two more mouths to feed on top of it. She’d go to David. Like Daniel said, he didn’t have much, but maybe they could be more help.

Mary Margaret didn’t hear from David for the rest of the weekend, but didn’t think much of it at first. He didn’t have her phone number and it wasn’t like they ran in similar circles.

 On Monday, she walked down the halls, her hand instinctively going over her chin every few seconds. She didn’t have any makeup and Regina’s skin tone was too different from hers to lend her any. She didn’t know how she was going to explain it to people, but most seemed to be giving her the cold shoulder anyway.

 When she turned the corner and saw Kathryn, it didn’t take long for her to figure out why. She knew and she had told her friends, of course she had. Keeping her head held high, she walked straight past her and headed towards her locker. Before she could start her combination, David approached her. He opened his mouth, then shut it, his hand touching her chin.

 “What happened?” He whispered.

Mary Margaret jerked away. “Let’s just say my dad didn’t have the best reaction.”

David’s eyes widened. “Mare…I am so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Look, I’ve been staying with my ex-step-mom and her husband, but it’s not the best situation. They can’t exactly afford two more mouths to feed and well…I know your family isn’t much better off and we’re not exactly together, but maybe…” She trailed off and saw the guilty look on his face. “What?”

“We need to talk. Do you um, do you think we could meet up later?”

“Why can’t we talk about it now?”

“Mary Margaret…”

“If you have something to say, just say it.”

 David sighed and looked around. Everyone was staring at them. He took hold of her hand and gently lead her into an empty classroom, shutting the door behind him.

 “I didn’t tell my mom.”

“Do you want me to go with you? I could make it easier.”

“I mean…I’m not going to tell her.”

Mary Margaret tilted her head. “What?”

“I think…I think I’m going to Yale after all.”

 Mary Margaret felt her heart sink in her chest and he reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away from him.

“You said you would stay,” she whispered.

“I can’t. My mom worked so hard her entire life to give me and my brother a good future. I can’t let her down.”

“What about the baby? What about…” She trailed off before she could ask about herself. She didn’t matter to him, of course she didn’t. “What about it’s future?”

“I think…I think maybe we should consider adoption.”

“Adoption?”

“We’re kids, Mare. What kind of future can we offer it?”

 She ducked her head, trying to not think of what Daniel had said. She knew this was the best option, but she didn’t want to go there.

 “You could go to Columbia. You can give yourself a future. This baby needs parents. Not…not…”

“Two kids that slept together after one of them got into a fight with his girlfriend?”

“We were more than that.”

“Were we?”

 David bit his lip and looked away. Mary Margaret stuffed her hands into her skirt pocket, looking around the classroom.

 “Maybe you’re right,” she whispered.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you into anything…”

“I can’t give this baby anything and it’s not fair to them. I’m only holding on so tight…because they’re all I have. But…a parent does what’s best for their child, always.”

 She thought of Regina and the lies she had told to keep her son safe. She thought of how Regina had spent the last of her inheritance to fudge the papers to keep the world from knowing who Henry’s father really was. She knew that she could never let Leopold know the truth. Daniel was an amazing father, he loved Henry as though his blood ran through his veins.

 Being a mother meant giving your child their best chance.

 Mary Margaret knew what she had to do, to give this child hers.

 4 Months Later

David walked into his dorm room, throwing his backpack down on the bed. He knew college was going to be tough, but it seemed to be harder with each passing day. He looked over to the bed on the other side of the room and saw that his roommate was fast asleep. Thomas was from the city and didn’t seem interested in bonding with David very much. It definitely wasn’t the college experience he had been expecting.

 Kathryn had reversed her acceptance to Yale and had managed to beg her way back into Stanford after all. David was glad that she was chasing her dream, but it meant that she was alone. Even James was attending a different college and was barely in touch, only texting to brag about his latest conquest.

 He settled down at his desk, ready to take a crack at the homework that was due the next day. Before he could crack the lid on his psychology textbook, the phone in his pants buzzed. He fished it out and saw he had a text from Mary Margaret. They hadn’t spoken since she left early for Columbia. She promised to keep him updated on the baby and send him the papers when the time came. He peered down at the screen, reading the simple three words.

 It’s a girl.

 That was it, nothing else. Had she decided to find out the sex of the baby after all?

 He walked back over to his bed and pulled out the copy of the sonogram that Mary Margaret had given him from under his pillow, the only picture he had of his daughter. She would grow up without him, possibly not even knowing that he existed. There was a good chance her adoptive family would choose not to tell her that she was adopted. All he could hope for was the day that he got to hold her before she was given away.

 He gently kissed the picture, before stroking it. “I’m sorry, baby girl,” he whispered. “You deserve more than a coward for a father.”

Mary Margaret was in pain, but she convinced the doctors that she was well enough to make the trip down to the NICU. She had to go there first, she had to see her baby girl.

 Baby girl, she had a baby girl.

 She wasn’t supposed to deliver so soon, her due date wasn’t for another 3 months. She had only been at 26 weeks, she was supposed to have more time.

 God, why didn’t she have more time? She was supposed to have until January to save up enough money, to get an apartment and work her butt off to raise the baby. She had only just gotten a job a week prior. The plan was to drop out of Columbia after she found a decent place to live.

 Now, all she had was a couple of hundred bucks and a college roommate who had barely woken up to give her a ride to the hospital.

 There was no way she could keep her now.

 The nurse parked the wheelchair in front of an incubator towards the back of the room. The baby inside barely looked real, almost like a doll. Her eyes were shut and she seemed to have a million monitors attached to her.

 “Can I hold her?” She asked.

“I’m sorry, Miss Blanchard, I’m afraid she’s too weak. In a few months time…”

“I won’t be here in a few months,” Mary Margaret whispered. “I’m giving her up for adoption.”

“Oh.”

“I…I don’t even have a couple lined up. I wasn’t planning on this, I was supposed to have more time.”

“If you leave her here, we’ll find her a family.”

Mary Margaret looked up at her. “Really?”

The nurse nodded. “It happens more often than you think. You’ll sign away your rights and we’ll contact someone to take her when she’s strong enough.”

 Mary Margaret let out a deep breath. She wouldn’t have time to pick someone, she’d have to trust that the family was good enough. She remembered learning that most agencies had strict qualifications. Her daughter would end up somewhere good.

 “Do you think you could give this to her when she’s old enough? Make sure it goes home with her?”

 She held up the blanket that was folded on her lap, the one she had been working on since graduation. It had purple ribbon and a name stitched in the corner. The nurse took it, studying the name.

 “Emma,” she said, softly. “What a pretty name.”

“I know whoever adopts her can change it, but…I’ve had it in mind since before I even knew what she was.”

“I’ll make sure Emma keeps this, I promise.”

 The nurse draped the blanket over the second half of the incubator, before walking away to check on another mother. Mary Margaret forced herself up, holding onto her IV as she did. She peered into the incubator, tears gathering in her eyes.

 “I’m sorry, Emma,” she whispered. “I wanted to keep you, I had it all planned out. It was going to be the two of us against the world, just you and me baby girl.” A single tear fell down her cheek. “But you came early, and that’s okay. You were just so excited to make your mark on the world, weren’t you?”

 She reached her hand through one of the holes and stroked her hand.

 “I love you so much, it may not seem like it since I’m leaving you here, but I do. I love you more than all the stars and the moons in the sky. You’re my miracle, you know. You’re the reason I’m still here. I have to give you, your best chance. And that’s not with me.”

 The baby barely moved and for a moment, all that could be heard were the sounds of her respirator.

 “I hope one day I’ll see you again,” Mary Margaret said. “Until then…be happy, be good for your new mommy and daddy. Just know you’ll never leave my heart, ever.”

The nurse came back around. “Miss Blanchard, you really need your rest.”

 Mary Margaret nodded and sat back down in her wheelchair. The nurse pushed her out, forever separating mother from child.

[theclacks]

Buffy Thoughts - (S7 E20-E21)

AKA Touched and End of Days

AKA:

(and also pain)

I don’t know if I can put my thoughts for these episodes into coherent words. But IDK, I’ll try. They’re pretty much 90% shippy, 10% the rest of the actual episodes, but whatever. Also they’re both technically several months old because I’ve been procrastinating on watching the final episode out of fear. What else is new?

BtVS & AtS Recap Master Post located here

Episode 20 (Touched)

Oh my god. Oh my god. It is official Buffy/Spike is my favorite ship of all time.

OF ALL TIME.

Like my god, I think I’ve said it before that I’m glad I’m only seeing this series now because if I was younger and less fiction-ly jaded, I think it would’ve destroyed me, but seriously, WHY DID IT TAKE ME THIS LONG TO WATCH BUFFY? I don’t know where my heart is going to be when I finish, what I’ll watch next to fill the void, if there will BE anything to watch next (which is why I’ve been stretching out these final episodes for so, sooooo long) and yeah.

Spike’s speech. AKA quite possibly my favorite scene ever. I discussed this ep a bit over at EF with the Spuffy crew right after I’d watched it and there were some back and forths over opinions of this speech, namely that it sounds like something Riley would’ve said, not Spike, right down to the “you’re a hell of a woman” line from As You Were and I stand by what I said then:

The line is the same. The context is not.

Riley made his “you’re a hell of woman” line as he was leaving to return to his wife, right after he basically said “yeah, you have a shit job that makes you smell funny but you’re still a hottie and you’re better than this.” And I want to put those other two things aside and focus on the “you’re better than this” sentiment, because that’s something that’s been fucking with Buffy’s emotional health for a very long time. This idea that there’s a better Buffy out there somewhere that she’s not currently being and therefore needs to try harder to be that Buffy because if she’s not that Buffy then she’s doing something wrong.

Spike on the other hand. Best line hands down = “I love what you are, what you do, how you try.” He loves her for who she is in that moment, not some idealized version who she could be. Lets her know that trying and failing is fine, that if she fails she doesn’t lose any of her worth as a person (something that Buffy punishes herself frequently her).

And I also love how Spike’s speech begins and ends with humor. Not “you smell bad but you’re still hot” humor, but audience-directed humor in the vein of:

BUFFY: Fine. The stage is yours. Cheer me up.

SPIKE: You're insufferable.

BUFFY: Thank you. That really helped.

It’s like… blah, my brain is refusing to connect words right now, but basically a lot of people in Buffy give her complements when she’s feeling bad for the sake of giving complements vs seeing through the angst and getting frustrated at it. Not like “why are you trying harder” frustrated, but IDK, it’s the difference between letting someone mope because you don’t want to upset them more vs giving them what they need (AND THAT’S NOT RUNNING AWAY TO ENGLAND, GILES). IDK, the speech was a perfect blend of emotional lightness, followed by an emotionally raw sucker-punch, book-ended by yet more lightness.

So yeah.

And as much as my shipper self could’ve skipped out on the other “love” scenes of the episode, I think they really do work well as contrast, particularly the Faith/Robin sex scene. There’s practically no emotional connection there, just the need to physically connect to someone, anyone. And IMHO it represents a growth in the way BtVS handles relationships? Unlike the Faith/Xander scene from Season 3, it’s not played for laughs. There’s nothing “wrong” or “bad” about it.

But, at the same time, contrasted against the Spike/Buffy cuddling scene, it really highlights that sex doesn’t automatically make anything more “meaningful.” Which has been this huge hangup for Buffy (the “need sex to have a complete love” thing). First there was Buffy/Angel which basically culminated in a single night of sex, and then he ultimately broke up with her because he didn’t think they could ever give each other a wholesome relationship without sex. That translated into her jumping into sleeping with Parker, perhaps to get the post-sex skeletons out of the closet ASAP (which, admittedly, she did). And then Riley… well, Buffy/Riley had a fuckton of issues that broke them apart, but she definitely felt like she couldn’t trust him until they’d had sex, not in terms of the actual act but him not leaving before she woke up.

...and then Buffy leaves Spike before he wakes up and oh my heart. It will never be whole.

Anyways, yeah, Andrew/Spike friendship remains beautiful. Spike growling like a cat/dog is canon (has he growled before this episode and I just haven’t noticed?). I loved the camera direction in the chaotic Scooby Meeting sans Buffy. I really loved Faith period, even (especially) through all her leadership failures ; it’s ridiculous how much my opinion on her has done a 180 since season 3.

And then Buffy finds a red scythe which I know is important because it’s on all the comic covers, and Faith finds a ticking time bomb and I actually laughed because of the clichéness of it all.

Episode 21 (End of Days)

Ugh.

Ugggggh.

Ugggggggggggh.

So this review, despite being for End of Days, will have lots of spoilers for Chosen and AtS S5. Because lots of spoilers are a thing that happened to me over the course of watching this series.

If for whatever reason you’re reading this blind and not as a vicarious feelings recap, stop reading now.

Good?

Okay, good.

So, I know pretty much all the basics of what’s going to happen in the last episode: Willow does a spell that transfers the Slayer powers into all the potentials, Anya dies (gets hit by the equivalent of a Stormtrooper blast? you were a leaf on the wind, Anya. a leaf on the wind)...

...Angel gives Buffy an amulet that can close the hellmouth but Spike has to sacrifice himself in order to use it, Spike does so but not before Buffy confesses her love to him…

Which okay. Pretty much the only thing I’m NOT spoilered for is how that scene goes down. Like does Buffy tell him that she loves him before or after he makes the decision to sacrifice himself? Does he believe her? If it’s before, does he think she’s just saying it to convince him to sacrifice himself? If it’s after, does he think she’s just saying as a consolation prize?

And it’s like, I REALLY WANT HIM TO BELIEVE HER, BUT I AM FILLED WITH DOUBTS. Because I know what happens in AtS S5, and yes, SMG not wanting to do the show anymore is pretty much the reason why she doesn’t make any cameos, but in an in-universe context, the only reason Spike WOULDN’T hightail it across the world to wherever Buffy was upon re-achieving corporeal status is if he didn’t think her declaration of love was genuine.

And if that’s the case, I think Chosen is going to break me. Which is one of the reasons why it’s actually been about 2 months now since I watched End of Days and I still haven’t gotten the courage to watch Chosen. (That and I have a thing about watching final episodes of shows I love. There’s something about knowing there’s always just a little bit more content waiting for you. IDK, I’m weird.)

But yeah. So.

If Spike doesn’t believe Buffy’s declaration of love, then there’s only one reason why he wouldn’t.

And that’s fucking Angel.

I shipped Buffy/Angel during my initial watch of the earlier seasons. I really did. But now I just want to PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE. He swoops in all smirky and condescing and then just INSTANTLY starts making out with Buffy, going all forever love with her despite what should be his fucked up emotional state re: loving and losing Cordelia and also his son. And the fact that he instantly, INSTANTLY, goes for the make out session without clueing Buffy into any of this… it just feels really, really, REALLY scuzzy.

Like, it’d be feeling scuzzy even if I wasn’t a Spuffy shipper (which I am, disclaimer). That’s how scuzzy it is.

And really, there’s very little difference between Angel swinging into town and sweeping Buffy off her feet with no mention of his other recent relationship, and what Riley did in As You Were.

And I think everyone knows my opinions on As You Were.

So anyway, back on topic. What’s the point of shoving a sudden love triangle into the FINAL EPISODE of Buffy, especially when it’s going to (I think) end with Spike not believing that Buffy truly loves him. Like was it fan service for Bangel shippers? (I mean, it very well could’ve been, but their ship had sailed FOUR YEARS AGO.) Was it to introduce last minute drama between Buffy and Spike? (to which I said, they already had an Atlantic Ocean’s worth of drama between them, they didn’t need anymore). Is it to make Buffy realize by seeing her options face to face, that she prefers being with Spike? (this would be the option i’d be most okay with, but am majorly doubtful because of all the post-series lists of “Top 15 reasons Buffy should’ve chosen Spike”).

And it’s just like… why?

This is the final season. You guys KNOW it’s your final season. So why?

Buuuuut, this is all speculation on my part due to incomplete spoilers, so maybe my hunches are all wildly off base. I sure hope so.

Either way, it’s January 1st, 2018, and I’ve put off watching BtVS’s final episode long enough. This is the night it ends.

Or… you know, kind of ends for the readers who’ve been reading these. I’ll come back sometime later this week to put all of my Season 7 thoughts + BtVS series as a whole thoughts into some sort of written cohesion.

Oh, and then I have all of AtS S5 to watch, which FUCK YEAH, SPIKE INTERACTING WITH WESLEY AND LORNE AND GUNN AND FRED, I AM STOKED. (You guys have no idea how scared I was that one of them would’ve died before the end of Season 4 and they never would’ve been on screen together.)

Also, paddlin’ back in circles as a last minute thing:

WHY? WHY WOULD YOU BRING ANGEL BACK IN AFTER THIS? THIS WAS PERFECTION. THE DICTIONARY DEFINITION OF PERFECTION.

Until then, Cassie is my last remaining ray of hope:

Happy New Year, everyone. See y'all at the finish line.