#and i wanna do a design like this over a large area for my jacket so it was good practice

[wandering-aloneo-o]

be honest did i cook

[annaphoenix1994]

Friends Close, Enemies Closer

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»»-------¤-------««

Bud paced along the field of deceased cattle, his lips pursed and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Kiera stood alongside him as Frankie and Lawson walked along the corpses of the livestock. "Sir," Lawson said, approaching him with a clasp of what looked like wheat grass. "Found your culprit." 

Bud took the grass from Lawson's hand, bringing it up to his nose before slinging it to the ground. "Goddamn clover," He mumbled. "This is a fuckin' crime scene. Kiera, call your brother and get livestock agents out here." 

She nodded, removing her phone from the pocket of her bibs. Dennis was considered the black sheep of the family, but he was included, nonetheless. He lived off of the ranch with a family of his own as well as ran his own real estate business. 

"Cole, you're not a reserve agent anymore, you're on regular duty. You cover this area. I don't even want a fuckin' bird landing on it. Got me?" 

"Yes, sir." Cole nodded. 

"You, come with me." Bud pointed to his daughter, both Johnny and Simon watching as they all shared a look of confusion. What the fuck is happening here?

"Looks like we have another fight on our hands, honey." Bud said lowly, adjusting his hat. 

"Do you have any idea who would do this?" 

"No," He shook his head. "That's why I need your help." 

"I'll get right on it." 

"Use my office in the lodge." 

Once the sheriff arrived, tension seemed tense between Bud and Sheriff Richards, the men glaring at each other as if they had a past conflict. "So, you think this was intentional?"

Bud nodded. 

"I don't see any tire tracks. The fence is way over there, so nobody threw it over and it didn't fall out of the fucking sky--"

"That's exactly what it did."

Richards scoffed, "So you think someone flew a plane over here and dropped clover on your cattle in the middle of the night?"

"That's the only thing I can think of," Kiera added, the tension between the three rising, Simon's fingers flexing against the reins in his hands as he stayed on his horse as well as the rest of the team. "Could've been a King Air, which is designed for skydiving and has a side door large enough and could hold the weight."

"Why would anyone do that? Who would do that?" Richards questioned. 

"That's what we need to find out." 

"Bud, I have no jurisdiction. Cattle is Chris's department. What can I do for you?" He sighed, referring to Chris Farley - the current Livestock Commissioner of Wyoming.

"Well, Chris has six four full-time agents and two reserves. He doesn't have the manpower for this investigation. I need your deputies." 

"No, I can't spare any deputies," Richards shook his head. "There's more county police guarding the jail than who I have out on patrol." 

"You wanna help so bad, then give me deputies or deputize my men, and not in eight weeks - right now, right now in this field."

"Which ones?" 

Bud turned and looked at his daughter, "Her, for starters." 

Richards scoffed, Simon seeing the borderline disgust Richards had once he laid eyes on her, and he didn't like it. "Isn't she still on duty with her federation?"

"On leave." Kiera corrected.

Richards paused, looking down to the ground at his feet, ignoring the searing pain of his fingers freezing from the harsh wind. 

"In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going to start in this valley," Bud said to Richards, patting the sheriff's shoulder. "Today is the day you choose sides."

He sighed, removing his hat and the wind nipping at his semi-bald head, "I'll issue the permit, but she has got to understand that a gun isn't the first thing she reaches for. I know how she is--"

"She's trained to use it." 

"Well, now you train her not to use it," Richards scoffed, watching Bud walk to his daughter. "If it comes out of your holster, you better have a sure-as-shit reason to use it, got it?" 

"Loud and clear." She sighed, looking over at Simon, embarrassed that the "Christmas Break" had to come to an end. You're about to see why we're all so crazy, babe...

"If she calls dispatch for support, I expect you to give it to her," Bud shouted, his hands on his hips as he watched Richards walk away towards his car. "Did you hear me?" He repeated. 

"I heard you, Bud! The whole goddamn valley heard you!" 

Bud shook his head, scoffing as he pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket, lighting it before looking to Kiera, "I know you can find out who did this. Find the evidence. When you do, you drag him by the hair back to me."

"You got it, daddy," Kiera nodded, sighing as she returned to her horse, the split rein clasped between Simon's fingers as he kept her horse still for her. "Guess I'm back to work." She frowned.

"Don't worry. We'll find out who did this, love." He encouraged her. 

"I need to make a call." 

He furrowed his brows at her, asking who. 

»»-------¤-------««

Simon sat in the guesthouse with the rest of the men, shaking his leg impatiently with both worry and anxiousness as he hadn't seen Kiera since discovering the deceased cattle in the field. A beer bottle clasped between his fingers, leaving all but two sips as it had been hours since he had seen her. What is going to happen? Is someone starting a war with her family? I need to do something. 

"What's eating at you, Simon?" Price asked, taking note of Simon's worry by his furrowed brows and sad eyes. 

"Never seen nothing like it." 

"Nor have I," Price sighed. "She has it under control. You should know that by now." 

"It's not her I worry about - I worry about who this person is that intentionally did this." 

"Why?" 

"Because I don't know what's going to be worse: when her father gets a hold of him or when she gets a hold of him." 

Price breathed a chuckle, lighting a cigar and offering one to Simon, "She's a walking fit of rage, but I don't think I've ever seen her as angry as I did today."

"I don't know about that, she was spitting fire that night I found her in the prison break," Alejandro added. "I feel sorry for whoever decided to start a war with her." 

"It had to have been someone who knew of this place. Aren't cattle worth thousands?" 

"Yeah, per head," Simon added with his extended knowledge of raising cattle by overhearing conversations between Kiera and her father. "At least fourteen hundred per cow." 

"Fuck," Soap sighed, sipping from his bottle of beer. "Wonder how many there were?" 

Simon shrugged, "Frankie and Lawson are counting them." He recalled, remembering how they stayed behind to get an exact number of fallen livestock before herding the bloating heifer they had saved to the barn for recovery. 

"Is-Is there anything we should do?" 

"I don't know. As much as we shouldn't expect to, have your guns ready just in case." 

The desire to go to the lodge and check on her was unraveling within every minute, noting that dusk was approaching. Removing his gifted phone from his pocket, the corner of his mouth curled as he looked at the wallpaper he had figured out how to set - his favorite photo of her he had kept in his uniform breast pocket, glad he was able to set it to where he can look at it every time he looked at his phone. 

Finding the 'messages' app, he searched her name, relieved that she had programmed it already for him by putting in her contact information as well as the rest of his team's, knowing he was always eager to keep in contact with his friends--

Family.

The text was simple yet held so much worry behind his screen as he waited for her to read it, wondering if it would even notify him that she had. He set the phone aside, ensuring the ringer was on before trying to peer his focus on the television that both Price and Gaz had their attention to. 

You two are seriously obsessed with that show, he scoffed to himself, forcing him to watch as he knew better than to ask Price to change the channel.

It was "Lizard Lick Towing." 

Soap joined in on the watch party, chuckling at Ronnie on the screen. "I like his haircut." He commented, referring to Ronnie's mohawk. 

"Of course you do." Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes before they darted to his phone, seeing Kiera had finally replied to him.

The sound of Kiera's truck caught Simon's attention from the kitchen of her house, wanting to have dinner at least started for her when she returned. Though Kiera wished the roles were reversed, thinking that she was the one who needed to have dinner ready for him after a long day.

Unbeknownst to her, Simon thoroughly enjoyed cooking for her. Granted, he wasn't the best cook, but it reminded him of how he would cook for his mother when she was sick. It was nostalgic to him as his wandering thoughts sunk back into the depression of finding her deceased from enemy forces, the memory never failing to leave his mind. 

He heard her rustling with the doorknob, turning his head to watch her enter the house with a smile on her face. She was wearing a bulletproof vest with a badge hanging around her neck with a laptop clutched under her arm. "Hey," She smiled, the Velcro of her vest ripping apart as she removed it along with her badge, setting it on the table as well as the laptop before walking up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and seeking his natural warmth. "You don't have to start dinner, I can-"

"I'm going to," He hummed, placing a delicate kiss to her neck as he was grateful for her return. "Look at you, little miss deputy." He poked. 

"I figured I should've been suspicious when this break went on too long," She frowned. "You sure you want to deal with me and this crazy family?" 

"Positive. As long as it's with you, the whole world can throw itself at me." 

She smiled, leaning her head on his chest as her fingers spread through his hair. "I'm trying to find any leads. So far, nothing." 

"You'll figure it out, C.I.A." He encouraged. 

"It's one thing if it's terrorism, which I'm used to, but I've never had to deal with something like this before. Someone is wanting to attack this family and it's up to me to stop it." 

"Well, I'll be guns-ready if it comes down to it." 

"Oh, I know," She chuckled. "I pity whoever it is." 

"That's for sure." 

»»-------¤-------««

A loud moan ricocheted from the shower walls as Simon had her pinned against it, her hands bracing against the wet tiles as he had a bruising hold on her hips. Hot water streamed down his back, leaving marks in its wake. Neither had expected to be having a lovemaking session in the shower, but her constant teasing and his eagerness for her touch were too much to ignore. In one powerful thrust, she felt her feet shift against the shower floor, causing her to gasp, "Baby, don't let me fall." She giggled. 

"Oh, you're not going anywhere." He smirked, using his body to push her up further against the wall, his lips finding her shoulder and pressing a soft kiss there, his growing beard scratching against her skin. 

She reached her arm around his neck, turning her head to kiss him as his thrusting began to subside, his hot breath against her ear before he peppered kisses to the skin behind her ear when his hand reached down to slide down her leg, lifting it up to where her foot rested on the side of the tub, giving him deeper access. She gasped, leaning her head back onto his shoulder as his head cradled hers, their cheeks pressed together.

He listened to her moans, holding back from edging her as he did before, and let her enjoy the release of her orgasm, his soon to follow. The grip on the back of his neck intensified as her rush of ecstasy consumed her as his hand fondled her clit as his massive arm snaked down her torso. 

He encouraged her through her orgasm with three delicate kisses to the crook of her neck, "There you go, love. Let go." He encouraged her, his other hand gripping her hip and rubbing soothing circles on the bone, ensuring her that he was there to help tame the wave of arousal. 

She panted in overstimulation briefly as Simon's orgasm was soon to follow, his grip tightening on her as the rush subsided. 

She relaxed into his touch, the water becoming too hot as the surface of her skin matched with his was beyond intensifying. "At least we're already in the shower to clean up the mess." She giggled, feeling his smirk on her lips at her comment. 

"Makes it easier, doesn't it?" He smirked, reaching for the washcloth that was draped over the side of the tub, running his fingers through his wet hair as his body caught all of the water during their intimacy. 

He helped wipe away the stickiness between her legs as she held onto him for support, turning the heat of the water down as he helped guide her to the falling water, insisting on washing her hair for her. 

"You know something?" 

He hummed in response, the pads of his fingers massaging her scalp gently. 

"We never started dinner." 

"Well, you were desperate to have a shower," He chuckled. "Besides, I'm never against having dessert before dinner." 

"I'm surprised we didn't use all of the hot water." She blushed. 

His lips pressed against her shoulder, "I mean, give me a few minutes and I'll be ready to have you against the wall again." 

"Don't tempt me." 

»»-------¤-------««

"Are you ever going to stop working for the day?" Simon huffed as he made her a plate of fresh food, seeing she was still on her laptop. 

"Eventually," She sighed, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "I just have to make a call." 

"It can't wait for the morning?" 

"Not something like this, babe." 

He sighed, "I'll take your word for it. Just at least eat." 

She nodded as he sat the plate of food next to her, closing the lid to her laptop before beating him to the fridge, getting him a drink before getting her own, a grin on her face as she watched him make his own. She rushed to compile the data she had been needing to search, jotting down quick notes before he joined her at the table, knowing he had been glaring at her. "Thank you," He said, appreciative that she put away her work to have dinner. "Find anything?" 

"No," She sighed, opening her can of Dr. Pepper. "I need names to run through a database and see if I can pinpoint who would've had that plane." 

"It had to have been someone with deliberate intentions." 

"I know. I ran Graves' name to see if he owned a plane. Even though he's dead, it wouldn't surprise me if word got around to take me out." 

Simon gulped.

The table fell quiet as the couple ate, a mischievous chuckle filtering through her nose as she looked up to the ceiling, Simon watching as, out of habit, reached her hand toward her shirt pocket in search of her vape pen. "What is it?" He asked, swallowing his food as he watched her chuckle. "Kiera?" 

"Right under my goddamn nose."

[minervadashwood]

Daryl Dixon x NB!Reader (afab, plus-size) 🏹 Daryl x Reader x Rick 🛡️

The Cop and the Criminal - Chapter 20

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Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

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Summary: You meet Carl and Lori. This chapter contains: misgendering, some unresolved tension (sexual and otherwise), a six-year-old Carl Grimes, and some fluff if you squint. Word count: 3K Note: Lori is somewhat more severe here than in the series. I hope you don't mind.

You walked through a door at the ground level of a large large church, following behind Rick. He led you down a flight of stairs, following signs as he went. Though you weren’t in the sanctuary, the place was beautiful with bright lights overhead. The floor was carpeted and pristine, the walls decorated with both religious imagery and groups of people smiling and having fun. 

It was nothing like what you had expected. When Rick used the word “shelter,” you conjured up images of a dank underground basement, or maybe even some mobile Red Cross station. Your nervousness gave way to a modicum of relief. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as scary down here in this beautiful place.

At the foot of the stairs was a large room. Around its walls were stacks and stacks of food, blankets, folded up cots, and other supplies. One table held rows of flashlights.

A few feet away was a minister sitting behind a small table. As you entered the room she stood up and smiled at you both.  

“Welcome to First Methodist. I’m Reverend Johnson. Let’s get you folks set up.” She handed Rick a clipboard, and he had to set down both your bags to take it. Like Daryl, Rick wouldn’t let you carry anything.

He scribbled on the paper, which you could see was a long list of names, along with phone numbers and designations. He wrote his information down, then started penciling in your name. He paused.

He turned to you, leaning down close to your ear. “What’s your last name?” he whispered.

You whispered it back to him, and as he finished writing it down you looked around you to see that from this room a number of hallways branching off in different directions. They each had a laminated sign taped to the wall next to them. The signs read: Alpha (F)/Alpha (M), Omega (F)/Omega (M), Betas/Families, and Mates.

The presence of M and F on those signs did not bode well for you.

When Rick finished writing, he handed the clipboard back, and asked. “My pup should be here with his mom. Carl Grimes?”

She nodded and flipped through some of the pages on the clipboard. “Right here. Got him with a Lori Grimes and Shane Walsh. They’re in the family area.” The minister peered at him over the clipboard. “So you and his mother aren’t--”

“Divorced,” Rick supplied.

She nodded. “Once you two get settled in, you can visit them until dinner. After that everyone has to go to their assigned rooms. Speaking of which, will you be needing a couple’s room or will you each go to your own designated areas? You with the male alphas and her with the female omegas?”

Your stomach roiled and your chest tightened. This was a dread that had absolutely nothing to do with your designation and everything to do with who you were as a person. Just the thought of being sequestered because she assumed you were a woman had you equal parts raging and frightened.

Again, you held tight to Daryl’s jacket, which you hadn’t let go of since leaving home. Taking a deep breath, you opened your mouth to answer.

However, Rick cleared his throat. “Y/N’s not a woman. Pronouns are they/them, and we’ll take one of the rooms.”

“But Rick--” you protested, although you were relieved by how he stood up for you.

He took you by the elbow and guided you away from the minister. “Tell me what ya wanna do, Bunny. You can go where they put you, but…”

You shook your head. “I…Rick that kind of thing is hard for me. It’s not about being an omega, but just having everyone assume I’m something I’m not--and when I get in there, all of the assumptions, the pretending. Just constantly bombarded with reminders that it isn’t me.” There was a name for what you were experiencing, social dysphoria, but you did not think Rick would understand if you tried to tell him.

He rubbed his thumb on your upper arm, where his hand still held you. “So you want to stay together? It’ll be a little room with one bed, but private.”

“One bed?”

“Just give me a pillow and a blanket, and I’ll be fine in the chair or the floor.”

“But wouldn’t you be more comfortable with the other alphas--”

“No,” he cut you off quickly. “I should stay with you. Daryl wouldn’t want you here all alone, would he?”

You almost wanted to retort that Daryl did leave you all alone, but you knew deep down he hadn’t known anything like this would happen.

“I guess not,” you replied.

“It’s settled then. We’ll take the room then go see Carl.”

He squeezed your arm before letting go and walking back to Reverend Johnson.

“We’ll take the private room,” you said quickly, beating Rick to it. You thought it might sound better coming from you; it was your decision after all.

She nodded and smiled at you with dark, gentle eyes. “I’m sorry about misgendering you. I just assumed.”

Her apology was welcome; you returned her smile. “It happens. But maybe you could include preferred pronouns on your sheet. For next time.”

“That’s a good idea. We’ll have to do that.”

She grinned at you, and then you sensed her alpha presence. Nothing overpowering, but layered with soft charisma that almost hypnotized you. It’d been a long time since you were in the presence of an alpha without being sexually attracted to them. But here with Reverend Johnson you found yourself gazing up at her in adoration.

Your inner omega was quite pleased, and you didn’t try to hide it. “It’s very nice here,” you told her. “It has a sense of peace and stillness.”

“Oh, thank you for saying so. You know, given my line of work, I should say that it’s God’s presence in His house of worship.”

“But?” you encouraged her.

“We do our best to make our church welcoming for everyone who enters, whether it’s times like these or for weekly services. Despite my absent-mindedness earlier, my flock actually does have quite a few LGBTQ members. Unfortunately we’re one of the few churches around here that accepts all of God’s children.”

You’d not ever been religious, but you knew a lot about its cultural significance, both in the United States and all around the world. Many religions, in fact, were the source of most of the earliest forms of writing, something you’d studied with a passion throughout your time in college.  

You felt her gentle gaze on you, and you preened at the show of attention from the tall alpha. “You must be very important to the people here. To welcome them and keep them safe.”

She nodded, a twinkle in her eye. “All part of the job, Omega.”

Suddenly, Rick’s arm was around your waist, breaking the trance-like state you were in. He pulled you tightly against him.

“Oh!” you yelped, shocked by the contact.

“Let’s get going,” he told you, ushering you down the correct hallway, then letting you go so he could grab both your bags.

When he was next to you again, he warned, “Just because she’s a woman, doesn’t mean it’s safe for you to be around her.”

His voice was a barely disguised growl, sending shivers throughout your body. “It wasn’t--I just--she’s so nice.”

“Mmph,” he grunted, reminding you of Daryl and the way your mate would--with a single syllable--say, “I hear what you’re saying, but you’re still wrong.”

However, Rick didn’t leave it at that.

He said, “What if Daryl had heard her call you ‘Omega’ like that? He’d have you out of here in a flash and never let you out of his sight.”

“It wasn’t--”

Rick stopped and turned, cornering you against the nearest wall. “It was. And I’ll be damned if I let her near you again, Bunny. For Daryl’s sake if not your own.”

Rick’s breathing was labored as he looked down at you. Of course it was all for your sake, but he couldn’t outright admit that. He couldn’t tell you that the way Reverend Johnson looked at you made his blood boil.

He lied through his teeth. There was no malicious or sexual intent on the woman’s part, but Rick couldn’t stand the thought of anyone but him or Daryl looking at you for too long.

He didn’ know what it meant, or more accurately refused to acknowledge what it might mean.  

That somehow, somewhere deep inside, he was thinking of you as his. You were Daryl’s too, no denying that, but in his friend’s absence Rick would fill the role that Daryl couldn’t. That meant protecting you from other alphas, making sure you were fed, and comforting you when you needed it.  There was a clear line he wouldn't cross, of course. He’d never kiss you, not even on the cheek or hand. No more than necessary hugs or embraces. And that was that.

When this was all over, he wanted to be able to look Daryl in the eye, alpha to alpha, friend to friend.

As he watched you, you squirmed under his gaze, rubbing your denim-clad thighs together and emitting a delicious fragrance. He dropped the bags and tugged at the neck of your sweatshirt, shocked to see scent blockers already there.

Your hot breath arced across his face, and he took long, deep breaths, fistfuls of your sweatshirt still in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “For what?” he asked.

“You can still smell me, can’t you?”

He let go of you, nodding.

“Rick, you know what that means.”

He shook his head and grabbed the bags.

“Must be a batch of faulty scent blockers,” he said.

You and Rick found an empty room and he dropped your bags on the bed. It wasn’t even a full-size, just a double, with a couple of pillows, a few blankets, and no headboard. Rather…utilitarian.

Against one wall, only a couple feet away from the bed, was a worn loveseat. In an upper corner of the room, near the ceiling was a speaker. You assumed it was some sort of intercom system, like the ones they might use in schools or older hospitals.

There was a door leading to a small cramped bathroom. It had a toilet, a sink, and a tiny shower. Like the bedroom, it had no decoration or superfluous furniture. 

You ducked into the bathroom and closed the door. Using the sink, you washed your face and neck, and replaced your scent blockers. Maybe they were faulty.

Back in the room, Rick ran his hand through his hair.

“I don’t want--” you said.

At the same time, Rick said “Will you come--”

You chuckled. “You first.”

“No, you go ahead,” he smiled.

“No, it’s alright. Really.” 

“I was going to ask if you’d come with me. To see Carl.”

You sighed. “I was going to tell you I didn’t want to be alone.”

His eyes softened. “You still scared?”

“It’s not that…I just have trouble being alone sometimes.” You left out the fact you’d only had this struggle since finding your true mate.

He nodded. “I want you to meet Carl. And since you’re an omega you can help keep things calm when I see Lori.”

You cocked your head. “Huh?”

Rick gestured vaguely. “You know how it is, you got those calming pheromones because you’re an omega.”

“I do?”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Yeah, Bunny, didn’t you know that?”

“No, I just…” Was that true? You’d no idea you were capable of something like that.

“You really should have had a pack long before now,” Rick grumbled. “It’s not right you’ve been alone all these years.”

“I’m not alone now.”

He clenched his fists and stared down at you, his eyes locked with yours. “No, you’re not.”

Following Rick, you entered a large room. Cots were lined up in neat rows, and the drone of fifty odd people chatting all at once. The place was littered with cots collected in little groups, separate families taking up each space. There were kids engrossed in coloring or playing. Others sulked and whined. There were couples without families, too, betas, you assumed. Thunder still rumbled outside, but it was muted, faint, almost lost in the din of this gathering of people. 

Then, you noticed a small child running in your direction.

“DAD!” the dark-haired boy shouted.

“Carl,” Rick sighed, scooping the boy up in his arms. “You being good for your mom?”

Carl nodded fiddling with a stuffed T-rex in his hands as Rick held him. “Shane, too!”

“Rick?” You turned your attention away from Rick and Carl to see a remarkably slender woman with large eyes headed your way.

“Lori,” Rick gave her a nod.

Carl squirmed in Rick’s arms and demanded to be let down. Rick complied, and Carl stood between his parents twisting the T-rex’s body in his hands.

“She with you?” Lori said, not even looking your way.

“They’re with me, yes. My friend, Y/N.”

“Friend?” Lori scoffed.

You narrowed your eyes. What was this woman’s damn problem? He was her ex husband, not some man she could talk down to.

“I have friends, Lori.” “I’ve never seen this person before in my life.”

How dare she talk about you as if you weren’t here. Contrary to what Rick told you, calm was not in the cards for you, not by a long shot.

Lori didn’t deserve an explanation, but you weren’t simply going to stand there while she belittled him.

“We’re neighbors. My car wouldn’t start, so Rick did me a favor by bringing me here.”

Lori put a hand on her hip. “Aren’t there a bunch of shelters closer to your place?” Again, she refused to look at you.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Carl had stopped playing with his toy and was now squatting on the floor, his head hanging low.

To hell with Lori and her temper tantrum. You squatted down beside Carl.

“What’s his name?” you asked.

“Ivan,” he said, holding up the animal for you to see. “Ivan the Terrible.”

You playfully narrowed your eyes. “What’s Ivan done that makes him so terrible?”

Rick and Lori continued to argue in harsh, hushed voices, but you ignored them.

“He’s only terrible to bad guys,” Carl explained. “Like my dad.”

You nodded. “You could call him Ivan the Brave.”

Carl rolled his eyes. “That’s his brother’s name.”

“His brother’s name is Ivan the Brave?”

Carl shook his head, giggling. “No, he’s David the Brave. You know, like David and Goliath?”

You played dumb. “Oh that’s the one where Goliath is this little boy and--”

Carl almost collapsed into giggles. “No Goliath is the giant, silly.”

The little boy’s smile pierced right through you. It was all you could do not to ruffle his hair or give him a hug.

Rick blocked out the sound of Lori’s voice, which wasn’t hard considering that she was full of venom not worth listening to.

He gazed down at you, seeing your smile grow wide as Carl laughed and shook his head. Something squeezed Rick’s chest painfully, and air escaped his lungs.

“Lori,” he said. “We don’t need to do this. I’m here to see that Carl’s safe, and that’s all. If you don’t want me here then--”

Carl stood up and tugged on Lori’s shirt. “Mom, can I eat dinner with Bunny?”

Lori clenched her jaw and glared at you. “Bunny?”

You got to your feet, your eyes flitting from Rick and back to Lori. He should really get you out of here.

“It’s a nickname,” you blurted. “You know, because I’m an omega.”

“Can I, Mom? Can I?” Carl insisted.

Lori looked at Rick, and he shrugged. “It’s your weekend.”

“Alright,” Lori sighed. “But now you get back to our stuff. When it’s time for dinner you can meet up with them again.”

You twisted your hands together, meeting Rick’s gaze. He gave you a lopsided smile. “Guess my kid likes you.”

Lori stared at you again. “Yes, he does. You not have any pups of your own?”

You shook your head. “I just found my mate a few months ago. We’re waiting. For now.”

Rick looked on as Lori relaxed her shoulders and untightened her jaw.  Did she think you and him were together? Was that why she acted that way?

It wasn’t any of her damn business, but the thought that he could slightly inflict a fraction of the pain on her that she had on him…well a sick, twisted part of him relished the thought.

“So you are just friends?” Lori said.

You nodded. “Carl’s really cute, by the way.”

Rick watched his ex-wife’s entire expression soften.

“My pride and joy. He’s growing up too fast, though.”

“That’s for sure,” Rick interjected, causing Lori to look his way.

“You know, the other day he came home and told me he had a girlfriend.”

Rick beamed. “He’s too young for that.” Despite his words, he was a little proud.

“Her name’s Myra.”

“I’ll have to ask him about that over dinner.”

Lori nodded. “He’d like that.”  

She left, leaving Rick alone with you in the big, bustling room.

“Guess you already got yourself a dinner date,” he said.

You chuckled. “Jealous?”

Rick pressed his lips between his teeth, a flutter in his belly taking flight. “No need to be jealous. I’m the one who’s sharing a room with you.”

“Yeah,” you said, your smile faltering, just slightly. You took your phone out. “I’m just going to text Daryl. Let him know what shelter we’re at. So that when the storm’s over, he’ll know where I am.”

Rick nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Next chapter.

==

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[pattysplaceofplaces]

Paper Hearts

Paper Star x Gender Neutral Reader

     Finally, another caper. Paper Star was good at her job yet her unhinged nature caused her to be tied onto a tight leash. But now her little “timeout” was over and she was back on the scene once more. 

The National Museum of color. The most vibrant place in the world filled with all forms of art. She hadn’t been paying much attention to Countess Cleo’s ramble but she wanted some sort of butterfly themed dress. She jumped down from the ceiling beams and onto the paint splattered floor. Paper Star loved chaos as much as the next villain but these colors were too much. At least she made it look flattering with pastels instead of throwing some colors together and calling it a day.

This mission was too boring for her. No sign of Carmen Sandiego or Shadow San? Of course they’d make her go on these types of missions. She had managed to snatch the dress and was about to make it to the helicopter yet something stopped the thief in her tracks. She had never seen anything like it. 

A room that housed a large frame. Inside that frame was a landscape made purely out of folded paper. Hills with vibrant flowers and butterflies, trees that housed origami monkeys, and fish swimming in light blue water. She cautiously took a few steps closer, reading the name on the frame. 

“Serenity Party by F/n L/n”

Who? Paper Star had never heard that name before. What an underrated gem. Surely their other works were just as good. She glided her fingers against the glass, wishing she could be in that picture. She had time to spare, she could take it with her, perhaps store it in her room. Although she knew VILE would most likely want it, or that she would be in trouble for jeopardizing the mission or whatever. “They always wanna ruin my fun..” She muttered to herself, cringing at the thought of your masterpiece being forced to attend Cleo’s villain dinner parties. “I’ll see you soon.” But not soon enough for her. She sticked a tracker on the back of the frame and made her get away. Once she was secure on the helicopter she took her phone out of her pocket. Time to do some research on a specific artist.

—-The Next Morning—-

“You’re quite lucky L/n. Only one thing was stolen and it wasn’t your work.” You let out a sigh of relief, adjusting your guest badge. “Now your meet will start soon. Be on the lookout for any suspicious characters.” You stood next to your piece, nodding. “Thank you.” You knew the manager wouldn’t hear your silent gratitude but oh well. 

“The artist behind the art” meet wasn’t going very well for you. So many talented artists had crowds as they stood next to their work. Yet for the past two hours your area had been completely deserted. Some people would past by but not long enough for you to start talking about your piece. Maybe you shouldn’t have submitted your work at all. You knew the art director was hesitant to put it in. Maybe they were right. Origami wasn’t a real art. Painters, sculptures, fashion designers worked so hard. All you did was sit down and fold paper all day. Your parents were right, it wasn’t too late to change your major, to find a more successful career. You picked up the sides of the frame and went to take it off the wall but a chill and the blur of colors that rushed past you made you freeze. 

“Hello?” You looked around, trying to find someone. You went to pick up your painting until you noticed something that had been pinned to your jacket. You held the origami rose in your hand, reading the ink that had been written on the stem. 

“I look forward to seeing more of your work.

-Your biggest fan

P.S. Let’s hang out sometime.” 

Paper Star knew she could get in huge trouble for getting close to someone who wasn’t apart of VILE but she could deal with it. This felt like something she absolutely had to do. There was something about you. Perhaps she did have a heart, one that she folded with blood red paper only for you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨2

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Thank you for your positive response to this one! I hope you enjoy what I have in store.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Your Spotify list of redundant tracks flowed through the apartment as you sat typing at your small desk in the corner of the front room. The boxy space was as oppressive as any office space, another reason for your voluntary work at the gallery. Vanessa let you in the studio to paint. Without the privilege, you wouldn’t have the space for your easel.

You stretched your fingers and rubbed your eyes. You felt dizzy from staring at the screen, even with night mode on. The work was monotonous and made you restless. You wanted a pencil or brush in hand, a canvas before you, not this blaring laptop. You yawned and took a sip of your lukewarm water.

Your phone vibrated from across the room and you checked the time. Your lunch started soon but no one was really keeping track. As long as you got your assignments done, it didn’t matter when you chewed on toast and disassociated.

You got up and grabbed your phone from the corner table and leaned against the arm of the couch. You remembered how Marcus woke up there and grumbled as he lifted his head in pain. You couldn’t really feel bad for him going into work hungover. He embarrassed you and it didn’t quite sink in until after Clark left you to stare down at your drunk boyfriend.

An unknown number showed on your screen and you answered tentatively, ready to hang up at the first sales pitch. Your name came from the speaker and you recognized the deep voice in an instant. It took you back to the night before and the canvas hung on the wall.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Clark said, “I only just had the paintings hung and I thought… well, I thought you might like to come see them in their new home.”

“Um…” you chewed your thumb, uncertain how to respond.

“Sorry, I know I can be a bit… to the point,” he laughed at himself, “how are you?”

“I’m good, just… taking a break.”

“You working?”

“Yeah, but I work from home,” you said as you touched the side of your neck, “I could… I could come see them but it might be a while before--”

“When are you finished work?” he asked bluntly.

“Four but I… maybe another day.”

“I don’t mean to be pushy but I did have something else to speak with you about,” he said, “a commission, like I mentioned.”

“Oh?”

“I kinda wanna get it started sooner than later, it will probably be pretty time-consuming,” he explained and you heard a clink and a soft sip, “I don’t wanna get into details on the phone but I promise, you will be compensated nicely.”

“You can’t wait until tomorrow?” you wondered.

“I suppose I can but it’d have to be during the day,” he responded, “why don’t you take some time to figure it out and get back to me by two? You can text me through this number.”

“Erm, sure,” you said uneasily, “I’m sorry, it’s just… very sudden, I don’t--”

“You can bring the boyfriend,” he said casually, “if you like.”

“He won’t be… home,” you said carefully, “I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” he replied, “have a good day.”

“You, too,” you said and the line died.

You put your phone down and took a moment. Good things rarely happened to you. You struggled so long it was hard to think that might change. The skeptic in you told you there was something behind it all. That it couldn’t possibly be your art.

You went back to your computer and sighed as you waved away the screensaver with your mouse. The blinking cursor made you want to believe it was your big break.

🎨

You texted Clark at one and at four, you were in an Uber. Marcus drove his car to work and you stuck to buses and the underground when you could. The address was at least an hour out, the house among those estates on the edge of the city reserved for the upper echelon. You’d only ever seen the sprawling yards on your way to the next town.

When the car finally turned up the drive and you passed beyond a low brick wall, you felt entirely out of your depth. You tipped the Uber but didn’t feel too bad with the check from Vanessa sitting soundly in your account. You clutched the strap of your bag and walked along the curve of the brick work towards the stairs.

“Hey,” you stopped as Clark called to you, your ankle still tender from the night before.

You glanced over as he came out of the large garage and peeled off a pair of leather gloves. He smiled as he tucked them into his jacket pocket. You watched him and played with the clasp on your bag.

“Just got back from a drive,” he said, “I almost got carried away. I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied.

“Well, come on, let me show you around,” he waved behind you towards the front doors, “we’ll go on a tour and then we can talk details.”

“Wow,” you uttered mindlessly as you climbed the stairs to the door but kept the weight on your uninjured ankle, “this place is huge.”

“My contractor went a little crazy,” he scoffed, “but I can’t complain.”

He led you through the doors and directed you to the left. In the front room, your work was hung along the opposite wall, arranged in a way that drew the eye to them. You stepped closer and peered up at your work with a hint of awe. They looked even better in a place like that.

“I had my interior designer make the final call on where to hang them,” he explained, “I hope you don’t mind, I gave her your details. She said she had clients who might be interested in your work.”

“Really?” you breathed, “that’s… too nice.”

“Oh yeah? One day, you’ll be sick of rich pricks like me,” he grinned, “I’ll show you the pool, that’s usually the main attraction.”

“Sounds good,” you said as you followed but he paused and watched your stunted gait.

“I forgot, we can go slow,” he offered, “how’s the ankle?”

“I’ll make do,” you affirmed as you neared him, “just need to get my steps in.”

🎨

As you finished the tour of the second floor, you slowed along the long hall and admired the work of artists you only ever saw in museums. You couldn’t help but be enamoured by the historic blots of paint. You almost forgot where you were as you leaned in to read the initials beneath the pastel flowers.

“So,” Clark’s voice brought you back, you almost blanked him out entirely in your mind, “I think you might have noticed the empty space above the fireplace in the front room. I was hoping you could fill it.”

“Oh?” you looked at him and smiled nervously, “did you have something in mind? A landscape or--”

“Well, your portraits are great. I like the old world style. I was hoping you might do one of… me,” he suggested, “I know, it’s vain but why not?”

“I mean, yeah, I could do that,” you said.

“I’ll pay hourly plus materials,” he continued, “three hundred an hour.”

You almost choked at the number. You blinked and swallowed through your surprise.

“Even a small portrait would take at least twelve hours,” you warned, “are you sure?”

“I know it’s a lot of time for you, so… I was thinking, if you have to miss work, I’ll factor it into your rate. I would really like to get the project started as soon as we can,” he put his hand on his hip as he looked down at you, “the only thing I need from you is a list of materials. I’ll have them waiting for you here.”

“Here?”

“Well, yeah, I figure it makes most sense,” he turned his palm out.

“Hmm, sure, I prefer my own brushes but… you know I can just buy the stuff myself--”

“Ah, no, I want it to be perfect. You send me a list and I’ll have my assistant go out and get it all ready,” he assured, “How does Sunday sound?”

“Sunday?” you blanched. That was two days away.

“Like I said, Marcus is more than welcome to come with you,” he offered, “I’d hate to keep you from him too long.”

“I guess Sunday works,” you squeaked, “I’ll talk to Marcus.”

“Great,” he said coolly, “well, that’s business. How about a drink to seal the deal?”

“I don’t know, I should probably get back,” you fiddled with your bag against your hip.

“One drink won’t hurt,” he said, “go on, call the boyfriend and let him know you won’t be much longer.”

“I… thanks,” you murmured.

“You’re humble for an artist,” he joked as he sidled by you, “once you grow an ego, you’ll be unstoppable.” He neared the stairs as you turned to watch him, “I’ll be at the bar, waiting. You like gin?”

“Sure,” you answered as you pulled out your phone, “I’ll see you down there.”

🎨

When you told Marcus about your new side gig, he was even more excited than you. You were anxious and slightly hesitant. You hated to jump in feet first and risk losing more than a few tubes of paint. What if the work wasn’t good enough?

Marcus was more than willing to come with you when you told him about the size of the place. He knew by the area that it was extravagant. You sat in the passenger seat with the most expensive bottle of wine you’d ever bought cradled between your legs. You hated to show up empty handed after all of Clark’s generosity.

Marcus got lost and went down the wrong driveway before you righted your course. As you drove up, you were once more overcome from the rich rosebuds and sparkling fountain at the centre of the mosaic. You gripped the neck of the bottle and got out as Marcus whistled in awe.

“You weren’t kidding. This place is fucking nuts,” he swore, “I should’ve worn the tux from my brother’s wedding.”

“Please, Marcus,” you rolled your eyes, “let’s both try not to break anything.”

“You’re the clumsy one,” he chirped, “shit, you’re so lucky. You get to hang out here and paint all day? God, I wish I had an ounce of artistic talent. I’d trade it for code in a minute.”

You climbed the steps and clanged the large knocker on the right door. You waited a moment before an answer came and Clark appeared on the other side and beckoned you inside. He smiled as he shook Marcus’ hand.

“Thanks for joining us,” he said, “I would’ve felt awful stealing your girlfriend on the weekend like this.”

“Are you kidding me? She said you had a pool and I snuck the swim shorts into the backseat,” Marcus chuckled and you nudged him with your elbow.

“See?” Clark arched a brow, “the pool is always the seller.”

“Here,” you said as you held out the bottle of red, “for everything you’ve done and welcoming us into your home.”

“Ohhh,” he took the bottle and looked over the label, “I got a spot for this right behind the bar. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I brought my brushes,” you patted the canvas bag on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah, well, I’ll just put this away and we’ll give Marcus the grand tour. Then I’ll get you situated,” he assured and rushed off.

He returned and pointed Marcus through to the front room, “you’ll see, just over here,” he directed him to your paintings.

“Oh, wow, babe,” Marcus marveled at the hung portraits, “you really did it.”

You smiled bashfully and Clark peeked over at you and winked. You squirmed as your cheeks burned and you turned away as he beckoned Marcus past the mantle.

“It’s a big place,” Clark said, “I’d like to get you started before noon.”

Clark led you along the same path as days before and slowed as you came back to the top of the stairs. He turned back and clapped his hands together.

“Marcus, if you wanna hop in the pool, we’re gonna start just in there,” he pointed to the one door you hadn’t looked through, “that’s the studio.”

“What about you?” Marcus asked.

“Well, I’ll be a part of the process so I’m afraid I will be just as busy but if you need anything, Nina, she has a crooked nose and mean mouth but don’t let her fool you, she’ll get you whatever you need,” he said, “just don’t track in water from the pool or she’ll string you up.”

“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Some alone time in the sun and a pool,” Marcus grinned, “I really couldn’t ask for anything else… except you, babe.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, “go, have fun.”

Marcus kissed you quickly and thanked Clark again before he excitedly barreled down the steps. You scratched your neck as you looked back to your host, and you guessed, your new boss.

“I’m sorry about him. He can be such a kid sometimes,” you said.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he waved it off, “so, you ready to see your workspace? I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, a bit last minute so it’s not perfect… yet.”

“Uh, yeah,” you answered, “can’t wait.”

He motioned you over to the tall dusty rose doors and hooked his fingers in the slotted handles. He slid them open and revealed an airy room with a tall ceiling and long windows. An easel stood facing the sun streaked glass, an immense canvas bigger than yourself, bigger than him, propped up on it. There was a ladder nearby and the table was set with a rainbow of paints and a large pallet.

Your lips parted as you neared the easel and stared up at the canvas, “you were right, it’s gonna be a lot of work.”

“I hope it’s not too much,” he said, “but you name your price. We’ll make it work.”

“No, no, I think for what you’re paying, I’ll do just fine,” you put your bag down daintily on the table, “so, uh, a portrait, I guess that means…”

Your voice trailed off as he went to the upholstered chair across the room, at an angle so you could see him from your vantage. Behind it, hung a velvet curtain to add to the scene and a bust on a pedestal. It felt surreal, like a dream.

You turned and pulled out the brushes, “I think you’ll get more tired than me, just sitting there.”

“I’ll make it through,” he assured as he sat, “is there anyway you’d like me to sit? Chin up, or…”

“Hmmm,” you turned to look at him, “I think… if you just put your shoulders back and… did you want a profile or--”

“I was thinking front-facing,” he stared at you steadily, unflinching as his eyes stuck to you, “just like this.”

“Perfect,” you said nervously and looked back to the table. 

There was water to rinse your brushes, rags, pencils, blending sticks; everything you needed and more. You took a pencil from the bunch and pulled over the ladder. You climbed up and looked over at Clark as he sat stoic and still. He looked picturesque in real life, you expected paint would only lend to his figure.

His eyes met yours and you turned to start tracing the basic shapes onto the canvas. You had to stop and steady your hand as you did. His gaze made it hard not to tremble.

[camaro-and-smokes]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Chapter 4: Let's do it (Let's Fall in Love)

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham Tags: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Gay Billy Hargrove, Bisexual Steve Harrington, POV Steve Harrington, POV Billy Hargrove, First Meetings, Dreamsharing, Fluff, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Billy Hargrove, Dreams and Nightmares, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Harringrove, Protective Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson are friends, everyone is grown up, innuendos, Steve Harrington is not so innocent... LEMONS, lingerie

Links to other chapters in Chapter one >>

Read on AO3 >>

Summary: Want to come over?

::::::::::

Steve pulled over in front of Billy’s apartment building. He took Billy's hand in his, and kissed the back of it. "So...You want to come in?" Billy asked. “Yeah, I do,” Steve said, smiling. “You go ahead, I’ll just find a parking spot. Doing the ‘bitch’ thing as you said.” “Ok. Code to the front door is 7259. Fourth floor. I’ll leave my door open.”

Billy took his boots off when he got out of the elevator in his floor. His feet were killing him. He loved high heels, but he never had anticipated the price of having legs look so good until he'd started to walk in heels himself.

After taking off his jacket, he sat on the bar stool by the kitchen island to gather his thoughts.

“Well, fuck,” he sighed and smirked to himself. “And one of those coming up soon, from Mr. Big.”

He typed a message to Chrissy.

"I'm back. Can't talk. Mr. Big came in for the night."

Soon his phone pinged with a reply.

“Tell me - E V E R Y T H I N G - in the morning. Have fun ;)”

He set down the phone, and went to the bathroom. He checked his makeup, put on lipstick - light pink one - and opened his hair. Then he checked himself in the full length mirror to ensure the visible lines of the lingerie he was wearing were in the right places on his jeans. He had hoped that Steve would've seen them before, but then he hadn't been waiting in the restaurant, so, better now than never. When he was done, he walked out and turned off the light after him.

After finding a parking spot in a fairly well lighted area for his other baby, Steve closed the front door of Billy's apartment behind him. Large open kitchen combined with as large living room were on the right, a door to one room facing the front door, and apparently a bathroom on the left. Everything was either black or white, and very sparse, which was surprising. He hadn’t expected that from Billy, who seemed to be a very colourful persona. Though on the other hand, he was a writer. Creative personalities liked to have clear surroundings to help them be creative inside their heads. He’d learned that when he’d had...uh...a thing with one of the firm’s graphic designers. “Billy?”

Billy came out from the room facing the door and smiled, opening the hall closet with empty hangers. “Wanna hook your jacket?.” Steve took his jacket off and hung it in the closet. “I didn’t expect this minimalistic style from you.” “Well, I like to keep things simple. Also it’s easier to clean, because I hate doing that. Welcome to my humble home,” he said smiling and biting his lip, and beckoned to the living room. “Wanna have a drink?"

Steve walked into the living room that had two large white couches, a coffee table between them, and a massive black bookshelf the size of the whole back wall, floor to ceiling, full with books. He looked back at Billy. “Should you have any alcohol in your home?” “I can always get some for someone who drinks it. It doesn’t mean I have to. To be honest, I don’t even like the taste of it anymore. Though I might have a glass of wine once in a while on special occasions, like today. Smokes then again...” he shook his head, ”I’ve been eating nicotine gum for over a decade because I just can't handle life without it.” “Any whiskey you have is fine,” Steve smiled, and walked to the bookshelf. “You read a lot, I assume?” he said, browsing the shelves. “Yeah,” Billy said as he poured the drink. “Though I nowadays listen to a lot of audiobooks. If you think that shelf is full of books, you should see my library in Audible.” When he was done, he walked to Steve and gave him the glass. “You have a lot of classics here,” Steve said. “I see that also a lot of source material for your own writing as well,” he continued mischievously. Billy searched the shelves for a while, then took a book out, and gave it to him. “My personal favourite, ‘Dangerous Liaisons’. Endless source of inspiration.” “Hmm,” Steve said, taking the book from Billy's hand and reading the text from the back. Then he looked back at Billy, raising an eyebrow. “So, games are your thing?” "In my books, yes, but in person I prefer no games at all." Steve gave the book back, and Billy put it in its place on the shelf. "Just so that you know, I prefer no games too," Steve said, and took Billy's hand in his. "I'm tired of them." "Me too." Steve let go of the hand, and brushed Billy's cheek with the back of his fingers. "You put lipstick on. I like it. And I love your hair open like that." He put the glass on the shelf, and put his hand behind Billy's neck, and pulled him into a kiss.

The kiss was gentle, an introduction, and a question all in one.

Billy returned it, melting into it, tasting the alcohol on Steve’s lips. Steve ran his other hand on Billy's back as they kissed, and felt something there he didn't expect. He pulled back and smiled. "Can we sit down?"

Steve sat on the couch, and Billy straddled on his lap. They kissed slowly and sweetly, tongues slowly lapping against each other, searching, taking their time. While kissing, Steve ran his hands over Billy's back again, trying to figure out if what he'd felt was real. It seemed to be. He moved his hands lower, to Billy's buttocks. There, to his surprise, he found more things he didn't expect to be there as he grabbed the cheeks and squeezed gently.

He felt himself getting hard on the spot.

"You're wearing lingerie," Steve whispered into Billy's mouth. "Do you like it?" Billy asked, feeling Steve's hardness against his ass. "I like it very much. Very. Much. Can I see?" Billy pulled his shirt off, revealing a silky, blood red bra, tailored for men. Steve was speechless for a moment, just looking at Billy's well-toned pecs that were beautifully highlighted by the exquisite garment. He looked up at Billy's eyes, and was met with a wide smile, the one that reached Billy's eyes, and created thin crows feet in the corners of his eyes. "You like it?" Billy asked. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful," Steve replied quietly. He kissed Billy again, then moved down to kiss his neck, and his chest. "The bra is sexy on you.” Billy hummed, and drew a deep breath. Steve licked and sucked Billy's hard nipples through the silk of the bra, brushing the other one with his fingers while working on the other one with his mouth. Billy took deep breaths, feeling Steve getting even harder under him, which in turn made him harder too. "There's more," he said licking his lower lip. "Do you want to see it?" Steve smirked, and nodded. "I want to see everything." “Go into the bedroom. I'll come there soon.”

Steve went to the bedroom, and took off his own clothes while waiting for Billy who'd gone to the bathroom. He sat on the bed, and saw the important things ready and waiting on the night stand: condoms and lube. He smiled to himself. Both of them had the same ideas for this night, too.

Billy cleared his throat to get Steve's attention.

Steve’s looked at the door, and his eyes widened, and he could feel his jaw slacking as his mouth hung open.

Billy was standing in the doorway twisting his fingers, and biting his lip nervously. In addition to the bra, he was wearing actual panties, and garters holding up his see-through over-the-knee socks - all blood red, all silk, made for men - and black pumps with thin at least three inch spike heels.

Steve tried to process the view in front of him, and the only word that came to his mind was... “Beautiful,” he sighed, and just stared at Billy. A smile spread back on his face slowly as he grasped what he was being offered. “Beautiful. Stunning.” The words made Billy smile, and look down bashfully. He glanced back up. “You're the first who's ever...you know, seen me like this.” Steve was shaking his head, smiling. He let out a breath. “I'm...I'm flattered.” He sat on the side of the bed and opened his arms. “Come here, gorgeous.” Billy walked to Steve, and Steve took the view in as he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life. In all honesty, he truly hadn't. He took in the pumps, that Billy knew how to walk in, and when he stood in front of Steve, knew how to hold his balance in. His feet looked beautiful in them, and Steve felt a warm tingle in his groin from seeing them. He took in the red silk of the garments on Billy's skin, caressing his figure in the most intricate ways. He looked Billy in the eyes, and reached to Billy, and pulled him to stand between his legs. He marveled the a growing bulge in Billy’s panties right in front of him, and glanced up at Billy, smirking. He ran his hands from the backs of Billy's thighs, under the garters, up to his buttocks and squeezed them, making Billy buck his groin towards him. He hugged Billy, and buried his face onto the silk of the panties, next to Billy’s cock, feeling it twitch against his cheek.

"I still can't believe that you're real," Steve sighed. "Those heels, this lingerie, just, YOU. With me, like this..." Suddenly, from being turned on with all this perfection, he felt his body failing him, and he couldn't hold back his orgasm anymore. “Oh god no,” he managed to say before he grunted as he came. Billy looked down, surprised, and couldn’t hold back laughter. He put his hand on his mouth, and tried so, so hard to reel it in, but as Steve leaned his head on his panties and shook it just a tiny bit in shame, Billy had to let it out. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't laugh!” “M-hmm,” Steve mumbled. Even though he felt so ashamed, and usually the other party laughing at him in bed wasn't what he'd tolerate, he loved to hear Billy laugh even if it was for his sad performance. The laughter wasn’t mean, so he didn’t feel as bad as he could’ve for such a teen move. Billy stroked Steve’s hair and back gently. “I laughed because Mr. Big Executive, Mr. Vice President, Mr. Founding Member, Mr. Whatever, sees me in lingerie, and high heels, and comes on the spot. I mean...I didn’t know I had such an effect on you. I’m flattered,” he said gently. “I want more,” came Steve's muffled voice from Billy’s groin, his face still buried on the silk of the panties. “I just need a minute.” "Let me get some tissues," Billy said, kissed Steve's head, and walked out of the room.

"What a pathetic fucker. Coming before his time like a teenager," Steve scolded himself quietly as he looked for the damage he had caused. To his relief the cum had mostly gotten caught on his own abdomen and thigh, but a small wet blotch was on the shiny bed sheet next to his thigh.

Billy came back, and gave the tissue box to Steve. A man didn't need any extra attention underlining that he'd come unintentionally and too soon, so now Billy waited quietly, definitely not smiling or laughing, until Steve had cleaned his mess.

Finally, when Steve was done, still a little embarrassed, he looked at Billy, who was sitting on the bed next to him. "Everything else was accounted for on me but a small patch. I'll get you new sheets for it." Billy smiled. "It's ok,” he said with a gentle tone. “Wanna try again? With better luck?” Steve smiled back, and patted his leg. "Come here, on my lap."

Billy straddled onto Steve's lap, took his chin to his hands, and kissed him, slowly. Steve’s hands found the garters again on Billy’s ass. “I really like these,” he whispered into Billy’s mouth. He pulled back and grinned. “You unashamedly wore these under those tight ass jeans in public, knowing they’d show to anyone who took a proper look, and made anyone who dared to do that hot and bothered. I like that attitude,” he hissed. “So you like me being naughty?” Billy asked smirking, as he felt Steve getting hard under him. “Yeah, I do. And I like the panties too,” Steve replied, running his finger on the hem from Billy's hip down between his buttocks. “I won't let you take them off, I want to fuck you while you wear them. I want you to come into them as my cock rubs against your P-spot.” “I'd let you do that,” Billy gasped. They kissed, and after a while Steve turned them around on the bed, pinning Billy under him on the mattress. He looked at Billy, who smiled at him the widest, gorgeous smile. Steve shook his head. "You're real. And you're beautiful. I've been waiting for this so long. To fuck with you." "Well, here you are, on top of me, in my bed, pretty real. Wanna get into it then? " Billy whispered. "So impatient!" Steve laughed, making Billy laugh too. "I haven't gotten laid in a while, and when I finally do, it's You. Sorry for me being a little impatient." "So you want me to fuck you?" Steve whispered gently. "Yes, please."

Steve got up, took a condom, and put it on with some lube. "How do you want me?" Billy asked. "Behind. Behind is good for what I have in mind." Billy raised himself on all fours on the bed. "What do you have in mind?" “I think I'm going to fuck you just a little,” Steve whispered as he set himself to Billy's entrance. “Just a little?” Billy asked. “Is there such thing?” “Let me show you,” Steve said, and slowly pushed himself inside Billy, searching for the nub of Billy's prostate with his sensitive tip. When he found it, Billy opened his eyes and gasped. “Oh!” “Yeah, there it is. Just a small fuck.” Billy saw stars in his vision. Steve indeed fucked him 'just a little'. Thrusting just enough inside him to push against his prostate, back and forth straight on it.

After a while taking in the pleasure Steve was inflicting, Billy felt the familiar tingle in his groin telling that his cum would soon start flowing. “If you want to, oh, fuck me properly, ah, now would be a prime time to get at, oh, to get at it before I come. Otherwise you have to take a number and wait,” he let out between thrusts. Steve didn't waste any time. He pushed himself gently fully inside, and fucked Billy with slow, intentional thrusts until Billy came, after which he finished himself with faster, harder thrusts before Billy would become so sensitive that he'd have to pull out.

When the orgasms had settled they were spooning on the bed on the brink of falling asleep, Billy the smaller one. "I have to warn you," he said quietly. "About what?" Steve said sleepily. "This Cinderella turns into a pumpkin by morning." "Oh?" "I have to shave twice a day to keep the shadow away." "Ah. Have you ever thought of having it removed by laser?" "I have." Steve was quiet for a while. "I want to know something. This doesn't mean anything, ok? I’m just curious." "Ok." "What about modifying other parts?" "As in...what I have down there?" "Yes." "I very much like what I have down there." "So do I." "Good." Steve hugged Billy a bit tighter. "But if you want that hair laser removal, which is absolutely and totally up to you...let me know. I want you to have everything you want." Billy turned his head to glance at Steve.”Wow. First date and I already get whatever I want. That sounds ...serious. Are we serious?” “I'm pretty serious about you.” “You don't even know me.” “I know you enough.” Billy was silent for a while. “You're taking quite a leap of faith, aren't you?” “I know you can't be so bad for making me feel like you did in the dream. The way you're slowly making me feel like in the real world.”

Billy hugged Steve's arm that was tightly holding him against his chest. Maybe Steve wasn't what he'd been looking for just in the dream world but also in the real one.

[snowstark]

Growing Wings.

READ ON AO3 For @starkerfestivals | Fill: Mafia AU “Don’t fucking touch me,” Tony snarls, grabbing Peter’s wrists to rip them off of him. “Then don’t fucking talk,” Peter spits back. Tony growls and shoves him back, but Peter just pushes right up against him again, getting in his space. He can feel his warm breath on his face as he snarls, “You think I wanna hear your fucking voice after you left like that? Tell me why I shouldn’t just punch your lights out right now." And ouch, that kind of hurts. Tony shoves him off, jeering, “Well, you wouldn’t want to break my nose, sweetheart, we both know how much you love my pretty face.” “Yeah, enough to want to spit on it, maybe.” S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t the worst place to work. Tony’s been there for a while now, and he gets along just fine. Then, he gets sent back to a world that he thought he’d never return to. I have now achieved a blackout, yay! Thank you to @vaguekiwi for beta'ing!

The barstools are mahogany. They blend into the red-brown wood of the bar, illuminated by the glow of lights behind the bottles. The people blend in, too—clinking glasses and flashing scars as subtle hands exchange wads of bills and tight packets of pot, mingling amidst the sharp smell of whiskey and beer between them; leather jackets that conceal switchblades and guns, hung on large shoulders and frames like bedsheets on a king-sized bed. It all paints a cohesive picture, barely anything out of place.

Except for the boy sitting at the edge of the bar. The Parker heir.

He barely looks legal. Pink cheeks, scruffy brown hair, and pretty pink lips sipping at his daiquiri. There’s a fat golden ring on his index finger. He’s dressed to fit in, but with his youthful face and frilly drink, he looks more like he’s wearing daddy’s clothes than anything.

Tony wants to ruin him.

He wants to grab him by the scruff and drag him down from the throne he’ll be stepping up to and pull him into a kiss, wants to feel the heat of his breath on his neck, wants to… buy him a drink.

“That one’s on me.” Tony pulls a chair out to sit next to the boy, and opens his mouth to order a beer when— no. “Sex on the beach,” he tells the bartender, and gets a weird look from the both of them, accompanied by a smirk lacing the boy’s lips. Otherwise, silence. He waits for his drink to be fixed before taking a sip from it, swirling the liquid in the glass loftily before saying, “Want a taste?”

“Not unless it’s from your mouth.” Parker’s voice is pretty. It reminds Tony of a mockingbird’s song, a sound of nature itself, with each word spilling from his mouth a pretty melody.

Tony lifts his eyebrows. “What, you don’t want a pretty babe to take home?”

The Parker boy pointedly takes a sip from his daiquiri.

Tony feels his lips curve into a smile. Okay. He gets it. He’s pretty sure he sees the other’s eyes crinkle a bit too at the corners. “Tony,” he finally says.

“Peter.”

As if he doesn’t know.

“Pretty name for a pretty boy. You got someone to take care of you, treat you like you’re a diamond?”

“I am a diamond.” Peter tips his head back to take the rest of his daiquiri into his mouth in one large gulp. “And I can find someone to come and make me shine whenever I want.”

“Lucky guy, finding a gem in all this dirt.” Tony keeps his attention on the ice cubes clinking in his glass. “Makes me wonder if that’s what you come here for.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Peter set his empty glass down. He swipes the tip of his index finger along the rim of the glass, then pops it between his lips to suck on it before turning to face Tony, leaning in. He lets his hands rest gingerly on Tony’s shoulder, just barely gripping as he breathes into his ear, “Why don’t we take this home, Tony?”

Tony likes the way he says his name.

He thinks he’ll like it even more when Peter’s moaning it.

He lifts his gaze to meet Peter’s. Peter doesn’t budge, only pulling back the slightest bit, nose a few inches away from Tony’s. Tony watches his eyelashes flutter with each blink. It’s like a swan taking flight, feathers fluttering in the air and daring Tony to reach up to snag one for himself—a keepsake, or a trophy.

His lips quirk up when Peter gives him a look, clearly saying, well? Tony licks the lingering taste of his drink away from his lips so he can replace it with Peter. “Think your father’ll approve?”

Tony knows he won’t. Peter knows that too.

Peter smiles. “We’ll just have to keep quiet, won’t we?” His hands slide down to fist the front of Tony’s shirt and pull him out of his seat by it.

Tony barely remembers to toss a wad of bills onto the counter before he’s guided out of the bar.

-- -- --

Tony’s in the process of sticking a piece of gum underneath the briefing table when the meeting finally ends. Fury talked for a painfully long time today. Tony’s pretty sure he even saw Rogers’ eyes close a few times, and everyone knows that if Rogers is dozing, the situation’s bad.

His left foot’s fallen asleep. He stomps it subtly a few times before getting up from his seat. The room’s clearing out now, agents talking to each other and chuckling as they shuffle through the doorway. Tony stops by the door, letting Rumlow pass through before turning to Fury, who’s now digging through a box of donuts.

“You know,” Tony says when Fury doesn’t acknowledge him, “might be good for team morale if you actually share your snacks with everyone. Oh, and you know what? We really gotta work on these outfit designs. I mean, how do you expect us to get the job done when half of us are fighting a wedgie?”

Fury’s quiet for a few moments, but it doesn’t faze Tony. Fury’s either astronomically loud or terrifyingly quiet; there’s no in between.

Finally, he speaks. “Found the meeting boring, Stark?” Fury’s eye flicks up to him as he takes a monstrous bite from the donut. It sends sprinkles raining down onto the table and floor for some poor janitor to take care of later.

“Always is, Sir,” Tony replies.

“I’ll always wonder why I let someone with the attention span of a goldfish sign up.”

“Maybe because this goldfish has brought the most innovative ideas you’ve seen in the past three decades.” Tony reaches to snag a donut from the box, but Fury slaps his hand away. It hurts.

“You know, I caught wind of something new today. Toomes.”

Tony blinks. “We don’t deal with people like him.”

He doesn’t deal with people like him. Not anymore.

Fury carries on like he hasn’t even spoken. “Word has it that the Toomes are deep in debt with the Parker family. The Parkers want to collect; you think Toomes is just gonna hand over a small fortune that easily?”

Tony feels his heart leap into his throat at the words.

Parker. Parker. Parker. He repeats the name over and over in his head, and realizes that he’s been silent for a second too long. Fury’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow as he takes a fierce bite from his donut.

“Probably not,” he manages, sounding as dumb as he feels.

Fury sucks sugar off of one of his fingers. “It’s allegedly reported that Toomes’ men are going in to get rid of their debt through unconventional means.”

“They’re not paying them off.”

Fury snorts. “Hell, no. They’re going in to get rid of the Parkers. Which includes our little asset, Rumlow. Member of the Parker family since before the boy even became kingpin, he’s been… interested in testifying against the family if it means he gets a lesser sentence to bite him in the ass later. He’s the weak link in the family, and we need him alive.” He dusts his hands off. “Barnes has already volunteered to infiltrate the Parkers at the higher levels, but we need more people to go in, hang around at their front and get them talking.”

“Best of luck to them.” Tony swallows and looks away furtively.

Fury makes a disgruntled noise in his throat. “Rogers will step in if no one else wants the gig—seems eager to, actually—but really, Stark, I’m bringing this up because I thought you might be interested.”

“Me,” Tony repeats, fighting back the urge to swallow. His mind jumps to skin on skin, fingers lacing together amongst soft silky bed sheets.

“Sure.” Fury shrugs. “You think fast on your feet, and you know how to get out of sticky situations if anything goes south. You know it’s not every day that I offer an agent a job like this—it’s your chance to prove yourself, Stark.”

Tony sucks the inside of his cheek.

“We only need someone to watch Barnes’ back, sit around the area and report back if there’s an issue. It should be easy for someone like you, just mingling with the associates of the family, indulging in their favourite hobbies, bonding, you know how it goes.”

Does he?

“I…” Tony trails off. His eyes flick down to the box of donuts, lingering there for a few moments. Fury actually nudges it open for him, like it’s positive reinforcement for considering the gig. “Can I tell you my decision tomorrow?”

Fury grunts.

Tony takes that as a ‘yes’ and hurries out before Fury can say anything else.

-- -- --

It still smells the same, Tony realizes. Leather and alcohol accompanied by raucous laughter and cigarettes and money. It feels the same, too. The barstools haven’t changed, except the leather is cracked now. He runs his fingers over it. It’s like a scar, if someone ripped off a wing and let the flesh mould over with new skin.

He orders himself a drink. The bartender makes quick work of it and Tony gives her a nod of thanks before taking it from her. At least it’s not the same bartender.

It only takes him a few minutes to empty the glass. He signals for another, then turns ever so slightly to side-eye the big hunk of meat next to him. It’s not a face that he recognizes, and he’s not sure if he’s more disappointed or relieved by that fact.

Probably relieved.

“Long day?” he sighs, knowing as soon as the words come out of his mouth that it’s a stupid thing to say. It sounds green, sounds like two suburban dads at the bar of a family restaurant.

Tony gets completely ignored for his trouble. Okay, fair enough. He’s gotten rusty—which is good, he reminds himself.

He needs another drink.

He downs it in a few big swallows, which catches the attention of a couple people in the bar. He gulps past the burn and it means his voice rasps a bit when he tries again. “I had a run last night up on 116th, got jumped by like, ten guys.” He hesitates before adding, “I think they were with Toomes or something.”

He gets a few more eyes, and some heads tilting in his direction. Okay, interest. No engagement yet, but that’s okay.

Tony’s grip tightens around the glass in his hand and he plunges ahead. “Heard they’re gonna take a run at us about their debt to—” don’t say his name, he could at least pretend that wasn’t real right now “—to the boss. Think your head’ll be one of the ones they cut off?”

That gets the big guy to turn to him, a scowl on his face. “Toomes would be lucky to snip even one lock of my hair,” he growls. And, admittedly, the man has great hair.

“Hey, new guy!” Five others have swivelled in their seats, and one has his eyes fixed on Tony. “Toomes really planning something against the family?”

Tony smirks triumphantly and motions toward the bartender. “I’ll tell you all about it, friends. Drinks are on me.”

-- -- --

Peter lets out a soft yelp as Tony practically tackles him onto the bed, dragging him into a kiss. Peter’s fingers fumble as he yanks off his jacket and shirt, moaning against his lips, and Tony helps him out of them. He hears the sound of Peter’s pants dropping to the floor and his lips part in anticipation. It’s exhilarating to take apart Peter’s exterior piece by piece to reveal what’s inside, to take it for himself and ravish it.

“That hurts, you asshole,” Peter laughs as Tony nips from his jaw to his collarbone. Tony ignores him, just sucking a mark onto the pale expanse of skin right above his collarbone, and then twisting to kiss Peter.

Peter gasps into the kiss, and Tony swallows his noises up hungrily like his life depends on it. Peter gives a small whine and pushes him. Tony falls back onto the bed with a confused noise, propping himself up on his elbow. “What?” he pants. “You don’t— is something wrong?”

“No, ‘s just—” Peter licks his lips, cheeks flushed bashfully now. “You still have your shirt on.”

“Huh?” Tony looks down and feels a small smile tugging at his lips at the realization that Peter’s right. “Oh.” He swipes his hair back with a hand, flustered, and Peter bursts into laughter.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Peter tells him teasingly, already reaching forward. He makes quick work of Tony’s clothes with clumsy, eager fingers, yanking and tugging at buttons and zippers before copying Tony’s actions from earlier, dusting a few kisses onto his jaw. Tony tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut again, settling back into that warm, fuzzy place in his head where everything he can feel and see and smell and taste is Peter.

Peter’s touches are more hesitant than his, less experienced, maybe. It makes him wonder if Peter’s ever really done more than make out with someone, or if he’s ever even been in bed with another guy.

His suspicions are confirmed when Peter pulls back the slightest bit and whispers, “Is this okay?” as he lets a hand slip down, eyes flicking up to his face uncertainly.

He’s younger than Tony; they’re both young, but Tony likes the idea of teaching Peter from scratch, moulding him from untouched putty to a sinning angel, claiming what’s his. He gives a small smile through half-lidded eyes. “Yeah,” he breathes, “you’re more than okay.”

It’s like the words settle the apprehension in Peter, because he relaxes, tense shoulders dropping in what’s probably relief. Tony doesn’t like the idea of Peter worrying when he’s supposed to be enjoying, so he just grabs him and flips him over, eliciting a surprised, “Oof!” from him. He grinds down on Peter, watching delightedly as Peter lets out an obscene moan, and he clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Thought you said we gotta stay quiet,” he whispers.

Peter licks the palm of his hand to coax it off of him. “We are quiet.”

“Not you,” Tony teases.

Peter scowls. “Fuck off.”

Tony kisses the pouty look off of his face. It slides away easily once his lips are slotted against Peter’s, wet and sloppy.

And then Peter surges up in a bout of energy, and Tony falls back with a surprised noise. “I wanna,” Peter pants as he dusts kisses on Tony’s neck, nuzzling and nipping, “I wanna— I want you to make me—”

Peter steals his breath from him with each kiss until his chest is tight and Tony has to push him away the slightest bit to gasp, “Your father— last chance to—”

Neither of them give a shit about Peter’s father. It’s foreplay at best, now. The thrill of getting caught, the feeling of ecstasy as they touch what’s forbidden, snagging an apple from the garden, it only urges them on like fuel added to fire.

“Still in the family, aren’t you?” Peter plays along, hands sliding down to Tony’s hips. “Least you’re not a fed.”

Tony barks out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” he agrees breathlessly. “Least ‘m not a fed.”

And then he takes Peter for himself, drinking in every little noise he makes as hunger ravishes his body, basking in the dove’s pretty noises.

-- -- --

“Another one!”

They all burst into laughter as the big blond guy—Thor, apparently—smashes his glass on the floor of the bar. The bartender rolls her eyes. Broken kitchenware isn’t a scarcity with Thor around here.

Tony’s not drunk. He’s spilled a couple of drinks instead of downing them, and he’s been sneaking refills of water instead of alcohol when he can. And, he can hold his liquor well. He’s not willing to risk his job to indulge himself.

He has, however, gotten the others to drink their fair share. They’re red-faced and all they can do is roar with laughter. It reminds him of how he used to do this too, come into the bar and share a drink or two before rushing off to press his lips to fair skin as hands push through his hair. For a split second, he feels a pang of longing in his chest.

He instantly forgets about it when Thor claps him on the chest. “Our— Our heads!” he booms, then snorts. “Toomes better watch out; we could step on ‘im even like this, crush his puny skull with our boots.”

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself,” another guy snorts, elbowing Thor in the side. “Don’t you ‘member what happened last time? Parker had a nosebleed for days.”

The words make Tony jerk in his seat before he even realizes it, and then he turns back around. “Yeah, yeah, Rumlow better watch out, heard he’s a popular target,” he chuckles in an effort to regain his composure, lifting his hand to signal for another drink.

“Rumlow?” An unfamiliar voice sounds and they all turn around.

It’s another face that Tony doesn’t recognize, and it makes him realize once again just how long it’s actually been since he was last here. He takes a quiet sip from his drink, and the guy narrows his eyes at Tony.

Maybe he’s been here too long. He wants to check his watch, but he refrains.

“Rumlow ain’t here,” the guy says. He doesn’t budge, preventing Tony from sliding out of his seat. “Boss sent him to Siberia two days ago. I would know, ‘m his partner.”

One of the guys snorts. “You sure, Rollins? Last I heard, you two went through a little break-up. Did he dump you, or was it the other way around, big guy?”

There’s a loud cracking noise, and the guy falls off his seat, clutching a bloody nose. “Jesus fuck!”

They have the attention of the whole bar now, and yep, this has officially gone downhill. Like, to the depths of the earth, to the underworld where Hades resides type of bad. Tony can feel the palms of his hands getting sweaty.

Rollins gives Tony a lingering look. “What did you say your name was?”

Fuck. And that’s his cue to leave.

He tosses a wad of bills onto the counter, then says, “I gotta get home.”

“He didn’t say his name.” It’s Thor now, staring at Tony with wide, suspicious eyes now.

Tony would rather not get into a fight with Thor, or any of the guys here, really. They’re all massive.

He needs to get the fuck out of here and go straight to Fury to ask him what the hell is going on, because what does Rolllins mean Rumlow is in fucking Siberia?

“You need to see the boss,” Rollins says, and that’s the only warning Tony gets before the front of his shirt is roughly snatched in a massive paw.

“Whoa, whoa, big guy, I’m sorry—my name’s Anthony Howard; didn’t mean anything by it; just heard stuff about Toomes. Look, I really do gotta get home—”

And then Rollins yanks, making him trip forwards, and then there are hands gripping his shoulders and his wrists are being yanked behind his back like he’s getting arrested. He’s dragged off, and he prays that whoever the boss is, it’s not him.

But he knows that it is, and there’s no way he can avoid it now.

-- -- --

Tony’s there when Peter’s father is gutted like a fish.

He wraps his arms around the boy, letting him scream and cry until he’s exhausted, throat raw and scratchy from how hard he’s worked it. His cries sound more like the shrieks of a crow by the end of it, and Tony runs a hand down his spine in an effort to soothe him.

“You’re okay,” he says, voice low, and Peter shudders and shakes his head in a small, jerky movement. He doesn’t believe it yet, but Tony knows he will be.

He doesn’t stop to wonder whether they’ll be alright.

He’s there when Peter steps up.

He’s there when Peter rules like the king he was meant to be.

He’s there when Peter ruthlessly rips off the wings of the mockingbird inside himself to lock them up in a cage and leave them to rot. He’s there when Peter transforms into an eagle, a bird of prey; he’s there when Peter stops singing.

Until one night, he’s not there. He’s slipping out of the compound, silent as a field mouse running away from an eagle under the gaze of the silver moonlight.

And he’s not there when Peter wakes up.

-- -- --

At first glance, Tony thinks Peter looks the same. But then he takes a second look, and he sees that he’s grown a bit taller, his face isn’t as youthful, and he has a small, healed scar on his cheekbone, just a faint white line. Most people wouldn’t even notice it, but it catches Tony’s attention right away, and he hates himself for it, hates that he has the memory of Peter’s face etched into his brain.

Peter’s men don’t even get a chance to say anything, because the moment Peter’s eyes land on Tony’s face, his lip curls up and he barks, “Out!”

They fumble for a moment, like they’re not sure whether they should be dragging Tony out of the room too, but when Peter’s scowl grows, they scuttle out with their tails tucked between their legs. Tony sneers at their backs.

Peter strides forward and Tony clenches his jaw in preparation for what he knows is coming.

The moment the door slams shut, Peter flies into action. He grabs the front of Tony’s shirt and shoves him against the wall.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Tony snarls, grabbing Peter’s wrists to rip them off of him.

“Then don’t fucking talk,” Peter spits back.

Tony growls and shoves him back, but Peter just pushes right up against him again, getting in his space. He can feel his warm breath on his face as he snarls, “You think I wanna hear your fucking voice after you left like that? Tell me why I shouldn’t just punch your lights out right now.”

And ouch, that kind of hurts. Tony shoves him off, jeering, “Well, you wouldn’t want to break my nose, sweetheart, we both know how much you love my pretty face.”

“Yeah, enough to want to spit on it, maybe.”

“You sure you don’t want me to be doing that to you? Wouldn’t get off on it, wouldn’t blow a load the moment I touch you? Happened way too much in the past, didn’t it? Don’t wanna relive those memories, honey? And this scar—” Tony reaches out, not even flinching when Peter tries to slap him away “—what happened here, huh? Fell off the swingset when Daddy wasn’t here to watch you?”

Peter pulls a face of disgust at his words, and Tony almost barks out a laugh, which would’ve incensed him more. It almost makes him wish he had; he knows how much Peter hates when he calls himself daddy. Almost as much as he hates being called kid.

Tony presses his thumb onto the scar when he gets no response, and Peter smacks his hand down to snap, “Just the result of the last guy who walked out on us. He came out a lot worse than me; should’ve done the same to you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony lifts his eyebrow tauntingly. “Then why didn’t you, huh? Did I wear you out too much, princess? Didn’t have it in you for round two? Should’ve known; pretty little thing like you wouldn’t have been able to handle it anyway—”

Tony falls back with a grunt when Peter tackles him, hands flying up to wrench him off. Except now he feels lips roughly mouthing at his neck. And then Peter snarls, “Get yourself out of these fucking clothes, I fucking hate you, always making shit harder.”

“Then ask nicely, kid,” Tony bites back. Peter’s head jerks at the pet name, nostrils flaring, and Tony triumphantly shoves him off enough to yank off his own shirt. He stumbles with how hard he pulls, and then there are hands that are tugging too, helping him out of it, and he grunts, “No fuckin’ patience at all, should’ve known you’d be begging to gag on my dick before you even—”

“Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up.” Peter throws the shirt behind himself before throwing himself at Tony again.

His nails bite harshly into Tony’s skin, making him hiss between clenched teeth. “Put those damn claws away, Christ.” He shoves Peter back again and they stumble together against the wall, then fumble for another moment as Peter wrestles out of his own shirt.

The moment the shirt drops to the floor, discarded like a feather floating to the ground, Tony grabs Peter’s shoulders and manhandles him over to his desk. He manages to get him bent over it despite the kicking and thrashing that Peter puts up, but Tony knows Peter, knows that he isn’t fighting as hard as he can, knows that he wants Tony to wrestle with him. There’s also no denying the fact that despite the years that have passed and hardened them both, Tony’s still larger and stronger than Peter, and Peter loves it. Tony can see it in his eyes; he’s practically feral every time he rests his eyes on Tony.

“Remember the last time we did this?” Tony laughs roughly, pressing flush against him as he bends over, caging him in with his arms. Peter snarls and jerks his head back, but Tony easily avoids it. He pinches the back of his neck harshly in reprimand and Peter chokes, straining against him. Tony lets him gasp and heave for a moment before licking a hot, wet stripe from his neck to his ear. “You think you can scream as loudly as you did then for me right now, sweetheart?”

“Over my dead body,” Peter gasps.

“Not the biggest turn-on.” In a lightning-fast movement, Tony rips Peter’s pants off. The button goes flying and Peter hisses.

“That was expensive, you asshole!”

Tony opens his mouth to snap back, but then his breath catches in his throat at the sight of the red lace. Peter’s face has gone a shade that’s equally as bright and he snarls in Tony’s grasp.

“Ohhh,” Tony says, beginning to laugh, and it sounds mean, which only serves to aggravate Peter even more. “This is why you were fighting so hard, huh? Little prissy Parker, wearing fuckin’ panties like you have someone to strut for?”

“Shut. Up,” Peter grits out.

Tony grins, feeling a sadistic little ball of heat furling in his gut, and he leans in to breathe, “Make me,” before cracking a hand down on his ass. The sound is loud, ringing throughout the whole room, and Peter keens. He’s pushing back against Tony like he can’t help himself now, spine curving nicely in a way that makes Tony want to kiss every inch of his body.

Tony slots his hips against his ass, grinding down and letting out a low growl in his throat. “That’s right. That’s fuckin’ right. Can’t make me, can you? Bet’chu wanted this so badly, can never help yourself, can you? C’mon, little mockingbird, admit it—it doesn’t feel as good when you’re on your own, I get it, I—”

He does get it. He’s forgotten how good they are together, and years apart only riles him up further, gets him wanting more, more, more. He knows Peter feels the same, and now, he wants to hear him say it.

“Tell me you want this,” he growls, and Peter jerks in his grasp. “Tell me,” he repeats, cracking a hand down on his ass, “you want this.”

“Fuck off,” Peter grits, but Tony can hear it, the desperation and arousal in his voice.

“Tell me you want it, let me fucking hear it.” He brings his hand down in earnest, making Peter gasp. His ass turns a dusty pink as he jerks and whines in his grip. Tony can see his cock growing harder by the minute, encased by lace. “C’mon, lemme hear it, what’s the matter, kid? Cat got your tongue? No point in hiding, you know, we know you want it, probably been waiting for this moment for years now. Bet you put fuckin’ panties on every day hoping I’d see them.”

He punctuates his words with smacks, hand cracking loudly and ringing through the room, and Tony bites out, “C’mon, sweetheart, you being shy ‘cause you don’t want me to fuck you? Or are you still thinking about that time I nearly let you fuck me? That was a fucking mistake, wasn’t it? You got a hungry fuckin’ hole, you think your dick would’ve lasted more than a minute in my—”

“I want it!” Peter finally gasps, tears in his eyes. “I want it, I want it, I want you to fuck me, I want your hands on me, I want you to fucking take me, take me, fuck me—”

“Fuck!” Tony sees red. He fumbles with the zipper of his pants, yanking it down as fast as he can.

“Jerk,” Peter pants. “You’re a fucking asshole, bastard, selfish piece of shit, cock-sucking fed—mmph!” He chokes when Tony slaps a hand over his mouth.

“The mouth on you, kid, Christ!” Tony pulls back, then tears off his panties with his hands. Peter jerks from his position, rearing up again, but Tony puts a stop to whatever he’s about to do by shoving him back down with a grip on his neck. He roughly makes Peter turn his head, then mocks, “If you can’t learn to say nice things, then you shouldn’t say anything at all.”

Peter doesn’t fight him—as much as he expected him to, at least—when he balls the panties up in his hand and stuffs them into his mouth. Tony laughs when Peter’s face flushes, and he taunts, “Can’t even spit and snarl like you want to anymore, can you?” Peter jerks in his grasp again, and Tony bites his shoulder in reprimand. “‘s okay,” he says against his skin, grinning, “I gotcha.”

He brings his hand down on his ass again, admiring how pink it turns, and then starts roughly opening the drawers of his desk. His other hand is gripping Peter’s wrists behind his back, pinning him down. Peter’s breathing is raw and heavy in his throat even with the garment in his mouth, but there’s no denying how hard his dick is, and nothing delights Tony more than that.

“Lube,” he mutters impatiently under his breath, digging through the drawers. “Don’t tell me you don’t have fucking lube.”

Peter makes an indignant noise that Tony disregards.

When he finds it tucked under a stack of envelopes, he rips the small packet open. He presses his lubed fingers to Peter’s hole, and Peter jerks, then pushes back against him.

“Fuckin’ hungry for it, aren’t you?” Tony mutters as he works a finger in. “You know what hasn’t changed? How tight your fucking hole is.”

Peter moans behind the panties in his mouth, thighs shaking as Tony works him open. He’s not rough, but he’s not gentle either—just the way Peter likes it.

Tony’s pumping three fingers in and out of his hole by the time Peter makes a muffled noise. It sounds suspiciously like, “Hurry up,” but he can’t know for sure, and he doesn’t care to know either—Peter would kill him if he stopped to ask. So he just pinches Peter’s cheek, making him groan, before straightening.

He spits in his hand and brings it down to his cock, pumping it a few times. Peter twists to look at him, eyes blown and heavy, and Tony smirks. “Cock-drunk little thing,” he drawls, seeing the spark that ignites in Peter’s eyes at his words.

Tony squeezes Peter’s hip as he presses the head of his cock to his hole. It slips in easily, rim fluttering around him, and Tony hisses out a small, “Shit,” before pushing in slowly.

Peter gives a muffled moan, just taking it, and Tony pants, “Good boy,” before he lets his hips roll.

It’s slow at first, but then they pick up the pace once Peter starts making little noises in his throat, even pushing back to meet him halfway. It’s heaven to Tony, to feel Peter all around him like this, even more so when he gets to grip his hips and mark him up.

“You know,” Tony pants after a while, fingers digging into Peter’s skin hard enough to bruise, “it’s almost too boring with you so quiet. Maybe I should just—”  He reaches out, and takes the panties from his mouth.

Peter’s moans and gasps fill up the room immediately, and Tony gives him a sloppy grin in return for the glare he gets. “There we go. But I don’t want to just carry this, so let’s…” He stuffs the panties into Peter’s hand, then guides them down to his dick. “I want you to wrap your filthy panties around your filthy cock and make a fucking mess of them.”

There’s no hiding how turned on Peter is by that; his eyelashes flutter and his lips part in a silent moan. Tony snaps his hips up, and Peter moans, jumping into action. “I fucking hate you,” he pants, even as he follows Tony’s order.

Tony laughs and gives one of his cheeks another spank. “I know,” he grins, then lets his hips pick up the pace. He digs his nails into one cheek, and Peter moans so loudly that he’s pretty sure the entire fucking room shakes. “Sing any louder than that, ‘n you’re gonna have people comin’ in to see you fuckin’ impaled on my dick, crying like a kid who just found his lost stuffie,” Tony taunts in his ear.

Peter gives a snarl, but there’s no real fight in his body; he just wants Tony and they both know it.

Tony closes his eyes, head lolling back and lips parting as he works his hips fast until he’s pounding Peter’s ass hard enough to jostle his whole body. Peter mewls, fumbling as he jerks himself off, still gripping his panties in a vice-grip, and the mere sight of him nearly tips Tony over the edge.

“So— fucking— filthy—” he gasps, bending over to press as flush as he can against Peter, skin on skin, damp with sweat. He mouths at his neck and shoulders, trying to take every inch of Peter that he can.

“P-Plea— O-Oh, god, fuck, fuck—” Peter whimpers, and the sound goes straight to Tony’s cock.

Tony hisses, “Fuck, ‘m gonna—” before he interrupts himself with a loud groan that rips from his throat, raw and heavy. He lets his hips slow as he rides through the wave of ecstasy that crashes over him, only pulling out once he gets too sensitive.

Peter’s a mewling, sweaty mess over his desk, fingers scrabbling to grip something, anything. Tony slides a hand through his damp hair to pull his head back and places a hand over Peter’s, which is still working feebly over his own cock, and he says roughly, “Lemme help, kid, can’t even do it yourself, can you? Too dumb to even think, shouldn’t have expected so much from you.”

Peter keens at the words, and Tony’s pretty sure he’s drooling on his desk. Tony lets his strokes quicken, the lacy fabric of the panties sliding wetly over the head of his dick, and Peter lets out a breathy moan. “I— I— P-Please—”

“No one’s stopping you, baby, c’mon, lemme see it.” Tony leans in and licks a wet, broad stripe between his cheeks, tasting himself mingled with the taste of Peter, and then Peter’s coming with a loud wail.

He shoots strings of white over their hands and his panties, now completely ruined and sloppy, and he gives up—gives in—entirely to let Tony jack him off through it, coaxing whines and whimpers out of him.

“F-Fuck,” he gasps after a few moments, squirming to get free, and Tony cracks a hand down, keeping him there until he’s begging incoherently, blathering for Tony to fuckstoppleasekeepgoing oh god—

Tony falls back onto the floor, completely exhausted as the weight of what they just did slaps him in the face, and Peter follows suit, collapsing on top of him.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, the sound of their breaths coming in rough gasps. Erratic exhales fill up the space between them, and Tony closes his eyes as Peter turns his head the slightest bit. He starts kissing his way up Tony’s body, from his knee to his hip to his chest and his neck.

When it slows to a stop, Tony lets his head fall to the side and is shocked to find Peter’s eyes damp and glossy. “Baby,” he whispers, feeling himself go cold. He’s only ever seen Peter cry once before. “What’s wrong?”

Peter’s eyes fall shut and he shakes his head. The silence stretches out longer and Tony’s fully convinced that he’s lost his voice when Peter finally speaks. “Stay,” he croaks. He reaches out and finds Tony’s hand, then grips it tightly. “Don’t leave me.”

Not again, are the unspoken words, and Tony knows it.

Tony looks down at him to meet his shiny brown eyes, full of longing and sadness and hatred and anger and happiness and resignation. He reaches out, placing a hand on Peter’s cheek, and Peter shudders and presses into the touch.

“Baby,” he breathes. His mind feels like it’s gone blank, save for the thought of Fury, and Toomes, and S.H.I.E.L.D. He’s an agent. He’s not part of… this, anymore. He can’t be.

A tear trails down Peter’s cheek, dripping onto the crook of his finger, and Peter turns his head to smudge it. But before he can, Tony pulls back, then grips his face with both hands to pull him into a kiss. It’s a clumsy one, full of wet gasps and pained noises, before Peter kisses back, pressing closer and closer until he’s toppled over Tony.

Tony keeps his eyes closed, even when Peter pulls back, lips ghosting over his. Peter falls onto his chest, mouthing desperately at his neck, fingers lacing through his own to squeeze tightly. Tony can feel his wet cheeks pressing against his jaw.

Peter finally pulls away, and Tony opens his eyes. “Stay,” Peter whispers again, and Tony swallows over the lump in his throat. He looks down at his hand, uncurling his fingers, and sees a familiar golden ring resting in his palm. His breath catches in his throat, and he squeezes his hand into a fist tightly, feeling the gold warm up at his touch.

And then he knows he’s made his decision—or maybe there was only ever one right answer.

“Okay,” he says, and Peter falls back onto him, a silent sob wracking his body.

Tony wraps his arms around him, holding him tightly, never wanting to let go—and he doesn’t.

The feeling of holding so Peter closely is accompanied by the decision that he’s going to grow a pair of fucking wings, if only to take both him and Peter elsewhere, away from any place that isn’t just for them.

He should have known he would end up back here. He was always going to end up back home.

-- -- --

“You passed with flying colours, Stark.” Fury doesn’t even look up as he addresses him. He’s too busy making his coffee. Tony thinks he goes out of his way to never look anyone in the eye. “Makes me wonder where you learned all these skills. It’s not every day we get an applicant like you.”

Tony doesn’t say anything. Just lifts his chin.

Fury’s eye flicks up then. It’s just the slightest bit unnerving. It feels like he can see right through him, see everything that he’s been through, see where he’s come from, see the dirt and blood that remains underneath his fingernails no matter how much he scrubs them under the faucet. He wonders if the bitter smell of leather is still stuck to him, coiling through his hair to settle down like a snake in a nest. He wonders if it’ll ever leave him, wonders how many baths and showers it’ll take for him to rub himself raw, clean.

“It’s not an easy task to commit to S.H.I.E.L.D.” Fury takes a sip of his coffee and saunters closer. Tony doesn’t move. “You leave everything behind and give it all to us. S.H.I.E.L.D. can give you what you want, but in return, we demand loyalty.” He’s standing right in front of Tony now. They stay like that for a few moments, before Fury asks softly, “Are you a loyal man, Stark?”

Tony lifts his chin. “Yes.” His voice doesn’t shake, and he holds Fury’s gaze. His fingers curl into fists, and he waits with bated breath.

Finally, Fury holds a hand out, and says, “Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D, agent.”

Tony takes it, grips it tightly, and gives a jerky nod to seal his fate. “Thank you, sir.”

He’s home, and he’s never going back.

Tag list: @sinditia @darker-soft-starker @starkeristheendgame @thegreenmetblue @momodashii @peterrparrkerr @tnpt @blazingparker @carelessannie

[burnedbyshoto]

Under the Mistletoe

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warning: smut, cursing, fluff

word count: 8,467

a/n: I didn’t want to edit this last night so lmao... sorry!!!!! anyways, this is super cute and yall should like.....read it :D

Synopsis: The mistletoe tradition is known by all, and if used correctly it can end in a sweet moment. Too bad Todoroki Shouto believes that people fuck under the mistletoe and not kiss under it.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“So you’re telling me that when two people meet under a mistletoe they have to...” Shouto trails off as he looks at the green plant nestled in between his fingers. “They have to—”

“They have to fuck, yes,” Kaminari nods his head. 

His arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes closed as he nods. His words, of course, are a flat out lie, but to Todoroki Shouto it seems as if his friend is speaking the truth. “It’s why it was never put up during our Christmas celebrations at school! With some of you guys not turning eighteen until after Christmas and all. That could have turned out to be child porn or something!”

“I haven’t had sex though,” Shouto huffs as he throws the mistletoe towards the blond who yells as it hits his head. “I don’t think I want to be caught underneath it. Didn’t Mineta wear a hat with it attached to it last week though?”

“Yeah, but that’s the only way Mineta can get girls, plus didn’t you see how the girls avoided him like the plague?” Sero pipes in, a large grin on his face as he takes the mistletoe and throws it above Kaminari’s head.

Shouto, however, sees this as a substantial poof.

“Bro, are you telling me you wanna fuck?” Kaminari winks as he looks up at the mistletoe.

“No, I just don’t think you’ll ever get to smash without this either!” Sero laughs as Kaminari slaps the mistletoe from Sero’s grasp.

“Would you fucking bastards GET OFF YOUR ASSES and come fucking help out?!” Bakugou roars as he enters the living room where the three men were sitting around.

Shouto stands up first, his eyes looking at the mistletoe that lays innocently on the floor. White people were pretty weird for starting that tradition.

Of course, it wasn’t to say that Shouto didn’t want to meet anyone under the mistletoe! Had it been a tradition where he would get to kiss someone it would be different, but fucking? Having sex only because you were caught under a plant was a bit too much.

“Todoroki-kun, are you okay?” Midoriya asked as he walked while hold two tables to put up for the dinner. The boys of the since graduated class 1-A were in charge of hosting the first annual Christmas party. Of course on because Iida volunteered them all.

Shouto nodded his head as he smiled strained, “I’m going to be avoiding the mistletoe all night.”

Midoriya looked at the fallen plant as he quirked an eyebrow, “Really? I thought it could be a great idea to get— mmph?!”

Shouto’s eyes widened as he saw Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima covering the One for All user’s mouth. They began dragging him away, their mouths at his ear as they whispered at him.

“Todoroki-kun, Kirishima-kun!” Iida yelled as he brisked over with red cloth in his hands, “I need your help in spreading snow out in front of the house! It hasn’t snowed enough yet!”

“Iida, what do you think about mistletoe?” Shouto asks as Kirishima jogs over to them.

“It’s a weird tradition,” Iida admits as he rubs the back of his neck. “But there’s too much to do, and the girls will be here within an hour!”

“Don’t worry bro,” Kirishima laughs as he slings an arm around Shouto’s shoulder. “Just avoid the mistletoe! Unless... you want us to send y/l/n-chan your way!”

Shouto couldn’t hide the flush the built on his cheeks at those words. The joyous laughter of Kirishima’s teasing didn’t help either.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Shouto stared at himself in the mirror.

Iida had insisted on formal wear tonight. He believed their first Christmas celebration outside of U.A. was a cause to ditch the Santa gear. It was definitely weird celebrating Christmas with his friends and not wearing the Santa suits.

But Shouto chose a dark navy blue suit, a white button-up, and a slim black tie. His fingers buttoned one of the buttons on his jacket before putting in silver cuff links. He was ready.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Shouto placed his clothes into the designated room. It seemed, however, that he was the last one ready as everyone else was sitting at the grand table. It had been beautifully prepared by Sato and Tokoyami. The aroma of the cooking food filled the air causing Shouto to sigh, he was quite hungry.

“Bakugou, where’s the mistletoe?” Shouto asked his ash-blond friend who was walking around with his hands shoved into his pockets. Shouto watched as Bakugou groaned as he whipped around towards him.

“What makes you think I would fucking know, hah?” Bakugou grunts as he rolls his eyes. “It’s hidden for a goddamn reason, you’re not supposed to know!”

“Would you help me look for it?” Shouto asks as he rubs the back of his neck.

“HAH?! Why the hell would I look for it with YOU, half and half bastard?! Are you trying to—?” Bakugou’s mouth was then taped shut. Shouto watched on in confusion as the ash blond’s attention was stolen by Sero; who was now running away in his white tux from the storming blond.

“Why aren’t they just being bizarre!” Aoyama dramatized from Shouto’s left. Glancing over, Shouto chuckled at his friend dressed in a literal suit of armor that was blinding to the eye. “Now, are you confessing your feelings to Mademoiselle y/n? Christmas is the most romantic time to do so!”

Before Shouto could speak to the smirking blond, Iida bursts into the dining area with coats in his arms.

“The ladies have arrived!” He announced.

Shouto watched as six girls entered the room talking amongst themselves.

They all wore Christmas appropriate formal dresses, and yet his heart fell as he was quick to see that you weren’t there.

Where were you?

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“I know I’m very late!” You exclaim into your phone as you struggle to shove the dark red evening dress over your body.

You weren’t supposed to have stayed as late at work as you did.

Missing the bullet train back to your apartment, you had completely missed the preparation for the party. Lucky for you, your neighbor had a useful quirk that let him do makeup and hair in ten minutes. So after offering him your soul (a promised meeting from his favorite Pro Hero Froppy), he agreed to do it.

The formal wear, however, was a bit too much in your opinion.

One month ago Iida had sent out appropriate outfits to gather ideas of what to wear for today. To put it simply he wanted a full-blown ball gown for a party for twenty-one of you.

So there you sat in your room, pulling the dark red dress into place. It had a semi sweetheart neckline, the bodice was made of soft velvet, and the skirt was multiple layers of red lace. Overall it was cute and simple. Slipping on your white heels you grabbed your coat and presents for your friends. Placing your phone to your ear you raced out to where the taxi was waiting for you.

“Iida won’t let anyone eat until you’re here! And I’m positive Bakugou is going to kill Midoriya out of a hangry fit if you don’t get here quick!” Mina once again tells you as you give the taxi driver the address.

“It’s not my fault villains decided to be villains where I work! Had it been my decision I would’ve been there with you guys! Plus it’s starting to snow,” you sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Tell Iida you guys can start eating, I’m not offended!”

“Girl, I told him that one hour ago, and again right before I called. Trust me, we’re not touching the food until you’re here!”

“Wow, you didn’t even want to wait for me?” You tease as you watch as the taxi drives into familiar areas.

“You know I’m teasing, besides loverboy here won’t let anyone eat until you get here too~!” Mina giggles in her sing-song tone.

“Don’t call Shouto that!” You groan as you try to calm your flaring cheeks. “We’re friends!”

“Friends who have the sexual tension that brings god to her knees! And the romantic chemistry that makes the cutest couple tremble in jealousy!” Mina exclaims. “Don’t worry, we saved you the seat right between him and me!”

“Mina!”

“Oh, gotta go! Bakugou AND your precious Shouto~ are demanding an update, see ya soon cutie!”

“Mina—”

The line went dead as you puffed out your cheeks.

Sometimes Mina was too slippery for her own good.

The rest of the taxi drive was quiet. Your taxi driver most likely wanting to get you out as soon as possible to go home themselves. Your eyes focused down at your cellphone that was getting text messages demanding your location.

Most of which was spam from Kaminari and Uraraka who seemed to be the most starving. Sighing, you shared your location with the class’s group chat for the next twenty-four hours. So they could track you for the next few minutes it would take for you to get there.

kaminari: i dont think ive ever been this excited to see y/n in my life… ever… and im 98% sure i had a crush on her 0.0

you: omg i told you guys you could EAT stop HARASSING ME

sero: tru lets blame iida

iida: You all would have been very upset had we eaten without you! Besides, this is our family so we have to wait, it’s only polite. - Iida Tenya

mina: …

you: …

midoriya: …

kirishima: i thought someone ingrained it into iida that he doesnt have to text… like that…

momo: I believe it is okay, Iida-san! It is confusing to know who’s texting on this chat! Sincerly, Yaoyorozu Momo

bakugou: hurry the FUCK UP Y/N

you: id rather die

“We’re here,” the driver sighs as they turn around. “That’ll be 2,000 yen.”

You smile in gratefulness as you pull out two 2,000 yen. “It’s a tip for working on a holiday, thank you!”

“Happy holidays.”

“To you as well!”

You stepped out of the car and closed the door behind you. Your eyes fluttering as you watch the snow fall in front of you. A shiver runs through your spine as you pull your coat tighter around yourself. Holding the presents closer to you, you walk down to the front door. You take notice of the heaps of snow in front of the lawn and grin. Although you had no evidence, you bet Iida made Shouto and Kirishima create snow unknowing that it was going to snow this much.

Opening the grand door, warmth and the waft of cooking food invaded your senses. Removing your coat, you heard chairs scraping against the floor as a small mob of people raced to greet you.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Season greetings!”

“I’m so fucking hungry, thank Santa you’re here!”

“Move bitches I get the first hug!”

“Let me grab her coat first!”

It had been a while since you had last seen everyone. But in this moshpit of who you would consider being among your best friends, it warmed your heart. “Thank you, Iida,” you smile as he nodded in response.

“You followed the guidelines quite well, you look great!” Iida compliments as he turns to put your coat away.

“Of course she looks great, we all went out together to a dress shop!” Jirou sighs as she pulls you into a hug.

You greeted everyone, hugging them all as you went until you finally found the one person you wanted to see. His hair styled slicked back and his hands rested in his pockets as he smiled at you. Your face felt like it was heating up as you stepped closer to him.

“Merry Christmas, Shouto,” you smile as the dual-colored man smiles at you. You pull him into a hug.

“Merry Christmas, y/n,” he mumbles into your hair. “I’ll take those from you?” Shouto offers as he grabs the bag with the presents.

“Thank you,” you say letting go of the bag.

Shouto nodded as he turns on his heel to put the presents away.

“TIME TO EAT!” Kirishima and Kaminari roar as everyone starts making their way back to the dining table.

“Just to let you know, there is a mistletoe somewhere here, in case you want to make a move,” Mina whispers in your ear.

Oh, this dinner seemed like it was going to get increasingly harder to stay composed.

xxx

“It’s present opening time!” Iida exclaims as he ushers the class into the living room where the tree and presents resided. “Please have a seat, Yaomomo and I have organized the different piles for everyone! Until you have been seated will you receive your pile!”

You were talking with Tsuyu as you entered the living room. Your eyes shining as you took in a beautifully decorated living room.

“You boys did an amazing job at decorating!” You exclaim as you grin, the night had been going perfectly so far.

Dinner had been lively and hilarious. Old banter and topics bleed into the night’s conversation made your heart ache for the old days. It seemed so long ago when you spent every day for three years with these guys. You missed it.

With Mina at your left who discussed her new fighting style. Shouto at your right who talked about his life at home. His family had finally was becoming something he loved completely. While you two had late night discussions talking about it no one else knew about it. It was invigorating to see Shouto grin and laugh in conversations. His old dense self was still ingrained in him yet he’s grown so much since his fifteenth year. You were proud of him.

You watched as Tsuyu took a seat on the couch, her eyes trained on you as she spoke. You moved to sit next to her until something shoved you to the side.

“Oh, that’s my seat!” Mina exclaimed as she sat next to Tsuyu, her smile large as your eyebrow rose. “There’s more, don’t worry!”

You turned around and saw a seat near Midoriya who was near Tsuyu. It seemed you could continue your conversation about her position as a Hero Commander. Midoriya would like that conversation as well.

“That’s my spot!” Uraraka shouts as you were about to sit down. You sighed as you stood back up, your eyes raking the couches for a place to sit.

“There’s a spot by Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya said pointing at Shouto. Shouto was sitting on a seat that was a bit too large for one person, but too small for two.

“Thanks,” you smile as you walk over to Shouto. “You mind if I squeeze in next to you?”

Shouto looks at you, his eyes intense as he shakes his head, “No, go ahead and sit.”

You sat at his left with a grin. Your body pressing into his left arm as he concentrated on Iida, and with a nudge, you captured his attention. “I hope you like the gift I bought for you,” you whisper as Iida begins handing out the piles of gifts to each person. Ojiro helping as they were big.

“I don’t think I could hate anything you could give me,” Shouto whispers back as he grabs his pile from Iida.

“Random panties I find on patrol?”

“I’d be honored you thought of me.”

“That’s so gross, Shouto,” you laugh as you take your own pile from Ojiro.

“You’re the one touching random panties from the streets of Japan!” Shouto retorts as he helps you settle your pile onto the floor.

“Touche, Shouto,” you grin as you shove him with your shoulder, “touche.”

“Because it is Uraraka-kun’s birthday coming up, she should go first!” Iida suggests and everyone agrees.

“Oh, I need to tell you something,” Shouto whispers as you cheer on Uraraka who is lifting a gift over her head.

“What is it?” You ask turning your head towards him.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispers before focusing back in onto Uraraka. She lifts out multiple bags of strawberry mochi with a triumphant scream.

“You look handsome tonight, too.”

It doesn’t take long before presents are being opened and you’re feeling content pressed into Shouto’s side.

From Aoyama, you got a crystal mirror that sparkled in the light. The poem about the North Star engraved into the back of the mirror.

From Mina, you got workout clothes specific to a dance class you and the girls were planning on attending together. They were in your favorite color and came with a jacket with your name stitched into it.

From Tsuyu, you got a plushie. It was of your favorite animal and held lots of tiny little snacks that you could carry during a patrol.

From Iida, he presented you with a pair of exercise shoes you had been needing for a while. After all, sparring with Bakugou and Midoriya left your old ones disintegrated.

From Uraraka, she bought you a charm bracelet that had two charms on it already. One of the U.A. building and another of a small group of girls.

Ojiro gave you got a new winter coat. It was white, waterproof and insulated. Your jaw on the ground as you tried it on because it made you look like a marshmallow and you adored that.

Kaminari gave you got his mixtape. On the cassette were a bunch of Kaminari originals he had been promising you for years now, and now you had a copy. That and a gift card to your favorite restaurant.

Kirishima gave you a new ankle and wrist weights. Something to help with your manly journey to becoming the best hero!

Koda bashfully announced that you were getting an all-inclusive trip to an animal and tea shop. Something he gifted everyone in the class, and an event you girls were quick to plan.

Sato gave you a free pass to let him bake you anything you wanted. Another gift given to all the girls, and another gift you girls were excited to use.

Shoji had gifted you a massage gun. Something you had enveloped him in a hug for minutes afterward because it was something you had been meaning to buy.

Jirou’s gift was in a white envelope, two VIP tickets to your favorite band. A very discounted item because her parents knew them and the fact that she was a Pro Hero too.

Sero’s gift was something that made you laugh, it was a high-quality blanket. Soft to the touch, with the ability to keep you warm in a blizzard! It had a class picture printed on it photoshopped with Kaminari’s wheey face onto everyone’s picture.

Tokoyami gave you a picture album with the class’s best memories. It also had many more blank pages for your own pictures.

Hagakure bought you a new set of makeup and brushes. Brushes that you had been eyeing the time you two had gone shopping together too!

Bakugou bought you a new outfit. It was definitely an outfit for warmer weather, and he got annoyed when you went to hug him.

Midoriya made you a present. It was two notebooks full of analysis and suggestions that you had asked for when sparring. You wanted to continue improving and Midoriya was definitely going to help you.

Mineta bought you a gift card to use at a local lingerie store. On the one hand, it had a lot of money on it, on the other hand, you wanted to destroy it.

Momo blushed as she stood up, her grin wide as she looked at everyone. She apologized about being able to properly buy everyone an honest gift as she had been busy these past few months. Nut she promised she made up for it. She had paid off everyone’s apartment/house rent or price. Or in Iida’s and Shouto’s case their groceries for four months.

“This is for you,” Shouto whispered as he handed you a thin rectangular box. “I didn’t want it getting smashed so, I held onto it. I didn’t forget to give you a gift.”

Your eyes focused on the gift that was wrapped in red and silver wrapping paper. Your fingers gently taking it from him as you nodded. Shouto had been giving everyone else gifts with things that reminded him of them. It had some of the most hilarious items to date. But the box told you nothing, no hint, no clue. The attention of the group was on Aoyama who was modeling the new outfits that were gifted to him.

His eyes bore into you as you opened the gift, your eyes widening as you opened the box. “Shouto…” you trailed off as you looked down at the simple yet gorgeous necklace that lay in the box. It had a single diamond on it, yet you knew that it was more expensive than anything you’ve ever bought in your life. “W-What?”

Shouto remained silent as he gently pulled the necklace from the box, he asked you wordlessly to turn around so that he could place it on you. You complied as you shifted in the seat.

“I promise I looked everywhere else for you before choosing this!” Shouto admits as his warm fingers push your hair to the side. The cold chain presses into your skin as you look down at the jewel. “But no matter what I looked at, this was the only thing I liked for you. So, no, I don’t regret or worry about buying you this because I know it was meant to be yours.” His breath teased your exposed skin and it took everything within you not to melt as he fixed your hair.

Not knowing how to thank him, you pulled him into a tight hug, your arms holding him near as he returned the hug. Your lips pressed gently against his cheek, “Thank you, Shouto.”

You pull away and look back to your friends who were still focused on Aoyama who did a spin. Your fingers grazed the shiny jewel, and you lay your head against his shoulder as you consume the fashion show laid out for you.

Xxx

“You’re confessing to him, right?!” Mina hisses as the girls called an impromptu meeting seconds before you were "about to kiss Shouto" on the couch.

“Mina-san, she was about to kiss Todoroki-san right before you ripped her from his grasp!” Momo sighed as gave you an apologetic smile.

“Y/n has liked him since high school! Her first kiss with Todoroki-kun is not going to be while Bakugou is modeling his clothes!” Hagakure defended Mina as she crossed her arms.

“First off, I was not going to kiss him,” you defend yourself as you point a sweeping finger at your friends. “I was going in to get lint in his hair!”

“There wasn’t lint in his hair,” Tsuyu chimed in to which everyone agreed.

“Leave her alone!" Jirou waves her hands, to which you thank her. "She was going to take the lint out with her teeth! To show him what that mouth do!”

Jirou snorts as you shove her.

“Do you see that rock on her neck?! You know she’s not gonna show him only what that mouth do, but also what her—!” Uraraka snickers as she was interrupted by the kitchen door opening.

“Y/n?” Shouto asks, his eyes wide as he sees that you’re flustered and pointing your fingers at them all. “Um… I was wondering if we could talk?”

“Right now?” You squeak as you smooth over your dress. “Of course right now, um, yes let’s go!” You declare, glaring at your friends as you walk towards Shouto. Grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the kitchen the door closing behind you.

“They put up the mistletoe outside right?” Momo whispers as she looks at Jirou who gives a thumbs up.

“Yes, Kaminari said they convinced Todoroki to talk with y/n outside.”

“Does… does Todoroki-kun even know what to do under the mistletoe?” Uraraka asks as she realizes her sheltered friend was still learning new things to this day.

“The boys must’ve explained it to him,” Hagakure insists as she nods. “You can’t fuck up explaining that you kiss someone under the mistletoe. Besides, they want them to get together too!”

Xxx

“Fuck, it’s cold,” you shiver as you wrap your jacket around you.

“Sorry,” Shouto apologizes as he grabs your hands in his. Heat immediately spreads through your skin. He was warming you up, the cold winter air is ignorable, as you and Shouto walk towards the edge of the porch. “There wasn’t any room in there that was private enough, and I needed to talk to you about something important.”

“Oof, don’t tell me you meant to give this necklace to some other girl named y/n,” you tease as you rest your back against the snow-covered railings. “If so, I’m going to need to fight both you and her for it.”

“No, no,” Shouto chuckles as his thumb rubs smooth circles into your skin. “But it is about the necklace.”

You nod your head as you squeeze his hand reassuringly, “What about it?”

“It’s not… too forward is it?” Shouto asks as he takes his right hand to brush your hair from your face. “If you think it’s too much I can take you to return it for something else you’d like.”

The worry and concern that are heavily etched into his face make you laugh softly as you shake your head. “Even though I can’t give you something as great in return, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

“What do you mean? I liked your gift.”

“Shouto, it was a two paid in full all you can eat meals at that soba joint you love, of course, you were going to like it!” You tease as you think back to the hole in the wall you had introduced Shouto to a few months ago.

“Yes, I have to starve for a week to make the most of your gift,” he teases and you snort as you shove him. Your eyes roll as you focus your attention back onto him.

Wait, what was that?

Your eyes flew back up to the ceiling as you saw the powdered with snow mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Your jaw dropped as your heart rate spiked. The hands that were in Shouto’s felt sweaty as you ripped your hands from his.

“What’s wrong?” Shouto asks as he follows your gaze up to the ceiling.

“Mistletoe,” you breathe as your eyes widen. This screamed like a setup to you, but how could the girls know the two of you would have made your way out here?!

“Oh.” Shouto’s voice nearly squeaked.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Shouto whispers, his cheeks glowing in embarrassment or from the cold, you had no idea at this point. “If you’re okay with it, um... I’ve never done this before.”

You lick your lips in anticipation and the feeling that Shouto wants to kiss you back. Your heart hammers in your ears as you smile. “It’s okay, I have,” you laugh gently.

“... you have?”

“Yeah!”

“O-oh…”

“It’s okay, it’s something I try not to remember,” you input as you shake your hands. His disappointed, flustered, and jealous aura screaming at you as you cup his cheeks. “You’re the one I wanted to meet under the mistletoe anyways.”

His hands slip through your jacket, holding your waist in his grasp as he lets out a shaky breath. Shouto’s eyes rise to lock on yours finally, and you nod at him.

“Wait you want to do this outside?” Shouto whispers as you near him.

“You’re supposed to do it under the mistletoe,” you mumble as your lips connect with his. Your lips end all arguments that he has as Shouto stills.

The kiss was slow, your eyes closed as you gently coaxed his stiff lips to move with yours. Shouto moved with you smoothly, the kiss gently growing in passion as he pulled you in closer. The kiss burns you as your lips languidly move against each other. Your hands moving from his cheeks to tangling into his gelled hair.

It was perfect, and you found yourself pulling away, ready to confess your feelings for him. But Shouto didn’t seem to be on the same page as his lips pressed against your throat. The feeling of his heated and soft lips against your colder skin made you suck in a sharp breath of air. Your head tilting backward as he peppered clumsy yet attentive kisses against your skin.

“S-Shouto,” you moaned as your fingers grabbed onto the collar of his jacket. This wasn’t what you were expecting from him. Nor was it something you believed to come from a visit under the mistletoe. Your peaked breaths soon calmed, they smoothed into soft and shaky moans as his teeth teased your sensitive skin.

Shudders flew through your body as his tongue caressed your skin. your mind was sinking into a sinking pit that is until he trailed his tongue to the cleavage of your breasts.

“Shouto!” You squeak as you shove his jaw up, his eyes locking on yours confused and drowning with lust.

“What’s wrong, love?” Shouto asks as a strand of hair falls into his eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Is this how you meet everyone under the mistletoe?” You pant as your mind is racing too many thoughts a second, you can’t keep up as there is a heat building in you. A heat that begged you to get over your shyness and just let him kiss you in such a lewd way. But this wasn’t Shouto, it couldn’t be.

“I’ve never been under a mistletoe before,” Shouto mumbles as his lips press together. In this brief hesitation, it seems that he remembers something. “Who have you… met under the mistletoe…”

Your face warms as you sigh, it wasn’t a memory you much enjoyed.

“It was Bakugou, but only because the damn store owners were so insistent on it!”

This confession made Shouto still. His eyes turning a near black with emotions you hadn’t seen on his face in quite a while.

“Shouto? Are you okay--mmph?!”

His lips were back over yours immediately. His bruised lips fervently danced against yours as he held his right hand to the back of your neck and the other firmly onto the small of your back. His kiss was demanding, sultry, and overwhelming.

Your questions of his emotions out of your mind as your ass hit the porch railing. The cold snow burning through your dress made you cry out, and Shouto’s tongue presses into your mouth. Your back arches as his left-hand leaves your body. It slams against the railing and the snow melts, and the tongue in your mouth warms you as you shudder in his hold.

Not wanting to be manipulated like this, you ignore how your body feels like it’s melting in his hold. Your mouth suckles onto his tongue. Your hands fist into his hair, making him moan into your mouth as you tug on it sharply.

You can feel the falling snow hitting your cheeks, but your body temperature has spiked so high that it melts before it can make complete contact.

Ripping your mouth from his, your lips trail down his neck, nipping and sucking hickies onto his pale skin. The harsh pants that escaped his mouth and the shaking of his form further incited you as your painted lips met the collar of his shirt.

“Should we go back to my place?” You ask as you pull away, your hands fisting around his tie as you look into his lust-fueled eyes.

“I thought you said we had to do it under the mistletoe?” Shouto questions, his upper lip in almost a sneer as he uses your hands to loosen his tie. Your eyes widened as he stripped off his jacket. He placed it onto the railing that was turning the snow into steam whenever it made contact. “Did you take Bakugou home after finding yourself under the mistletoe with him?”

The words were a near snarl, his eyes angry, his face jealous.

Some part of you wanted to utilize this. You wanted to use this surplus of emotion Shouto was emitting to get him to fuck you against this railing. Another part of you, a louder part of you, demanded to know what was wrong.

“Why would I bring Bakugou home?” You ask as you take Shouto’s flushed cheeks in your hands. “It’s mistletoe, not a porno.”

Shouto blinks once, twice, thrice.

“W-What?”

“Mistletoe, not porno,” you repeat confused. “Shouto, you’re supposed to kiss under the mistletoe.”

It’s then that Shouto’s body freezes. His eyes widening as he stares at you.

His face flushed, lips were swollen from kissing, and hair messy.

“You’re… you’re not supposed to fuck?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he shakes his head.

The small sentence causes your heart to beat wildly as you stare at him, your hands moving from his cheeks to your mouth. “NO!” You squeak as Shouto takes a step back from you, his head dropping.

Coldness envelopes you as Shouto nods his head, “I’m sorry for forcing myself on you, y/n. I… I should go.”

You watch as Shouto turns on his heel, his back stiff as he walks towards the door.

Everything in you screams at you to make him stop, pleading that you pull him back and say you’ll still fuck him. The kissing itself had ignited a fire within you. And there was nothing else you wanted but Shouto to subside the need and desire that had built within you.

“I like you,” you reel as you find yourself taking several steps forward as Shouto’s hand touches the door handle. “I have feelings for you, and when I found out that I could kiss you tonight I took the chance! I know you might be feeling a whole bunch of different emotions that I can’t list. But I want to let you know that I wasn’t letting you do that because of the mistletoe, Shouto! I genuinely really like you and I was going to let you fuck me against the porch railing I was that ready.”

Shouto is frozen at the door, his back tense as his hand drops. You watch in what feels like slow motion as he turns around, his eyes locking on yours. It clicks, his confession is silent as he walks back towards you.

The world has gone silent as Shouto cuts the distance between the two of you before you could react. His mouth pressing against yours as you’re sent walking backward. Your hands grasping his biceps as you’re pressed against a familiar railing.

“I like you,” Shouto gasps against your lips. “Fuck, y/n, I like you so much.”

You don’t answer him as you instead sink your teeth into his lower lip, a groan leaving his mouth as you pull away. His eyes flash dangerously, something new stirring within him as your lips come crashing together again. In a tangle of lips and tongue, his hands leave your waist and grab your ass through the fabric of the dress. The cold is ignorable and the jacket around you is making you sweat as you moan into the kiss.

The melodious sound escaping your mouth stirs Shouto on and his leg slips between your thighs as you arch into him. His leg presses indescribably into your crotch, so you do what you must and grind your hips against his leg.

The grip on your ass tightens as Shouto begins to guide your hips into wide circles against his leg. The grinding pleasures you. The slowly building pressure overwhelming you as you whine against his mouth. His name escapes your mouth like a prayer, soft and hopeful as your mouth suckles against his tongue.

“It’s too hot,” you whimper as you pull away, Shouto trying to follow you with his mouth as you tilt your head. His wandering lips press against your neck and you sigh as you shift to take off the jacket.

“You’re going to get sick,” Shouto warns. His hands leave your rotating ass as he tries to slip the coat back over your shoulders.

Taking his hands and instead press them onto your breasts. As his eyes shifted to your breasts, you dropped your coat to the floor and you stare at him with a growing smirk. “Then you better fuck the cold away.”

His eyes take you in and he slowly nods, his hands groping your breasts as he growls in response, “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Big words for a virgin,” you moan as warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Those are fighting words for someone who’s at my mercy,” Shouto snaps as he pinches your side.

A pained moan escapes your lips as Shouto’s teeth sink back onto your neck. His tongue then lashing out to smooth the wound that was left in its place. He continues to mark your neck as your gasping praises and grinding hips gives him the confidence to continue. His touch is intoxicating and you find yourself whining for more, begging that he do more. Finally, with a deep chuckle, Shouto pulls away from your neck, his lips red and raw.

His eyes trace your body as his hand’s trail from your breasts back onto your ass. Your eyes widen as he picks you up as if you weigh nothing, his hands massaging your flesh as he places you onto the rail. A low sigh escapes your lips at the feeling of the warm wood underneath you.

Your chest heaves with your quickening breathing as you see that this position gives Shouto the perfect entrance to fuck you out here.

There wasn’t much you could do outside. With snow blanketing the world, your friends indoor, and both you and Shouto craving the other there was only so much you could do. Fully expecting Shouto to start unbuckling his pants, your eyes shot open as he lifted the skirt of your dress. His heated fingers trailing up your cool flesh.

Trembling you watched as his fingers reached your panties. His finger stroking your folds as your hands held tightly onto his shoulder. Your pussy aches for more. Your panties soaked from the thigh riding and the being so overwhelmed with emotions for Shouto.

You can do nothing as you feel your panties being peeled from your skin. The soft fabric trailing down your legs and you watch as Shouto looks at them before pocketing them. A smirk overcomes his facial features as you watch him. He takes your wrists in his right hand and moves them behind your back. Your eyes widen as a familiar sound hits your ears.

“I might be a virgin, but I’m not a prude,” he whispers into your ear as cold ice encloses your wrists. “You have only a few minutes to get yourself to cum against my fingers, or else… well, I don’t want to find out.”

Unintentionally, you whimper in both pleasure and pain as the coldness seeps through your skin and your pussy throbs at the threat. Should you heed his command or make him recant. As you contemplate that, you rub your legs together. The slickness of your essence much more noticeable without the fabric in place, and you moan.

Shouto smirks as he looks at your moving legs, and he takes his left hand to trace your inner thigh, teasingly, barely touching your skin. Your eyes flutter as they brush against your slit right before he plunges two fingers into your wet heat. Cursing his name, your walls tremble against him as you press your forehead onto his shoulder. His fingers are warm, but your heat is even warmer.

“Is something wrong?” He feigns innocence as his fingers curl against your wall. They circle within your cunt as you whimper lewdly.

“N-No!” You stammer. The freezing sensation of the ice is almost ignorable with his fingers beginning to push within you. He nods as he begins to move his fingers slowly. Your body squirms in his hold as he increases his speed. Soon his fingers pump within you at unimaginable speeds, your head throwing backward at the pleasure. Your hips find themselves bucking against his fingers as you mewl.

The ice begins to burn as his thumb brushes against your clit.

Your eyes clench close as you surge forward. Your lips pressing against his as you attempt to stop your loud moans. Shouto swallows your moans as he continues to pound his fingers in you. A third one soon entering as his thumb flicks against your clit.

So close, you’re so fucking close.

You can feel the pressure building in you, the coil tightening as you cry out his name, pleading for him to make you cum. Shouto muses at your desperation but does not relieve you of your desires as his fingers leave your cunt. You cry at the expulsion, your pussy craving for him to reenter your needy cunt.

Instead, your wrists are set free from their icy cage. Your skin feels like its burning as Shouto places his fingers into his mouth. He's licking your essence off his skin and you whine at the visual.

“I decided that I want you to come around my cock instead,” Shouto chuckles as you glare at him.

“You’re a dick,” you whine as you watch as Shouto loosens his tie after removing his jacket.

“You’re the greedy one who wanted to fuck right here,” Shouto hums as he unbuckles his belt. You stare at him feeling your pussy throb at the impending sex.

Your eyes fall onto his cock as his pants bunch at his knees, and your mouth dries at the sight of him. Eight inches and thick, his hand fists against his length, low grunts escaping his mouth as he steps near to you.

“Are you okay with this?” Shouto asks as the head of his cock brushes against your wet folds.

You nod your head as you shudder at the sensations that run through your veins, “Yes, are you?”

He nods too as he grunts softly. He begins to grind his cock against your folds. The increased pressure than what he was doing before makes you moan as he coats himself with your juices. Your hands hold onto his biceps as he continues to move his cock between your folds. teasing your clit instead of penetrating you and you whine in protest. The stimulation of your clit appreciated but you wanted him to fill you up.

“Will you just fuck me already?!” You rasp as you pathetically circle your hips against his length.

Shouto chuckles as he locks eyes with you, “Maybe.”

Your mouth opens to argue, but you’re cut off by him pushing himself into your needy pussy without warning. His length barely fits entirely within you, and his girth causes your head to spin as he stretches you out. “FUCK!” You hiss as your head presses into his collarbone.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Shouto shudders as your walls spasm against him, overloading him with sensations as he tries to calm himself. “Y-You’re so fucking tight.”

“Move, Shouto,” you beg eagerly needing more friction from him. “Please fucking move.”

With a grunt of confirmation, Shouto rolls his hips. You curse as his hips move outward before bottoming back into you. Your hips move in time with his, and intermingled moans resonate within your now joined mouths. His thrusting picks up speed the more comfortable he gets. His moving hips slamming against yours as you cry into his mouth. His hand grips your waist as he pulls you from the railing, one of your legs hooked around his waist as the other shakily stands. He slides his other hand down your back so that he can cup the bottom your ass. It’s a stretch and it adds to his vigorous thrusts into your cunt.

The feel of Shouto’s pelvis slapping against yours is your remedy — you’re craving him even more and he is well aware of that fact.

You’re swelling with euphoria and lust when he decides to amp up your pleasure by bringing his right hand to your clit. His fingers circle against your clit with his ice-cold touch, it shocks you as your heated body jerks under the new temperature. With the added temperature play, it feels as if your body is breaking under his will. Your pussy clenching at sensations he’s giving you. Your hips rolling against his pounding hips, and he moans in return to how your walls clench against him.

Your head lolls to the side as you’re overwhelmed by the blazing heat in your core. The pressure of your cunt heavily evident throughout your entire body. You needed to keep it together, you wanted to keep going. The head of his cock finally comes to press against your sweet spot as he shifts your hips and you shriek.

“Fuck! Please, right there!” You beg as Shouto shakily nods, his hips coming to snap into that same spot over and over. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you’re no longer able to speak. You’re completely overpowered by his snapping hips.

“Will you come for me,” he groans out, his voice a pleading hope.

Your head nods frantically as you're unable to trust your voice. The action satisfies Shouto as he hisses lowly. Faster and harder, his fingers switch from pressing small circles to large figure-eights on your clit, while his hips slamming faster into you. You can’t handle the pleasure any more, and you feel your high coming.

“Shouto,” you gasp as he presses a kiss against your mouth again. His hands moving to lift you up, you can only cry in pleasure as he slams your back against a pole. His hips continuing to snap into you at insane speeds. You’re not able to keep up as sparks ignite in your veins as he slams into you over and over.

Your orgasm hits your body and it’s as if you’re falling away into ecstasy. Your mind spinning and dazed from the continuous world-altering sensations. You cry out his name as he still continues at his unmerciful pace. That is until he suddenly pulls out and drops you onto your shaking legs.

Whining at the loss of his cock, and the fact that you’re now on your feet, you open your shut eyes and stare at him unable to speak.

“Turn around,” he growls. You can’t believe he wants you to go for his own orgasm with you in a whole new position. Was he really a virgin you question as he fists his cock as you reposition yourself onto the railing. Your chest presses weirdly onto the wood as your knees buckle, and you look over your shoulder to see Shouto raising the skirt of your dress.

Shouto doesn’t ask to insert himself in you again. Your fingers grip the railing as he slams back in and you let out a sharp cry as you seize forward.

He starts up a brutal pace with his hips slapping against your ass with each and every thrust. Your hands move to your mouth as you cry as you rock forward with every thrust. His hips remain steady as his pace accelerates. You watch on a dazed high as snow falls onto your moving hair. Your fingers shoved into your mouth like a gag as he grips your hips. You use all of your willpower to push your hips back against his to meet him thrust by thrust.

Slowly, he starts to vocalize more and more. His lips moaning your name and crying out. He keeps one gripping hand on your hips while the other slips to your clit. Your mind snaps as he begins rubbing meticulous shapes onto your puffy nerves.

You can tell he’s close.

He’s chanting your name against your spine like some mindless prayer to you. His hot breath fanning onto your exposed skin. The hand on your hip grips you tighter, definitely bruising your skin. So you grip the railing with one hand and the other remains in your mouth.

“Are you ready?” Shouto growls while nipping at your skin. “Ready to take my cum?”

“Yes! Please, Shouto!” You choke out from your fingers, the pleasure and overstimulation reaching their tipping point once again.

“Then fucking come.”

Your toes curl as you let out a sob of pleasure. Your arm is unable to support yourself anymore as you let your torso slam against the railing. The circles on your clit finally stop and your abused cunt clenches around Shouto’s cock. Your body reaches its second orgasm of the night, and Shouto arrives with you.

He cries out a “Fuck!” and your name as his speed spills within you. It’s the loudest he’s been all night, which makes you whine at the sound of your name being said so vulgarly from his mouth. As your cries become breathless pants, you press your hands against the railings. The saliva on your fingers turning cold as the two of you stand still for what feels like some time. You feel him slide both of his hands on top of yours to intertwine with yours as cum spurts out of his cock, filling you up.

He rubs circles on top of your hands with his thumbs as he slides himself out. The feeling of him gone makes the both of you whimper at the loss of each other’s fill. You feel some of his cum seep out, and you shudder at the emptiness your cunt now feels.

You slowly stretch back up, your body hurting and now quickly turning cold with the lack of his heat.

Shouto is two steps ahead of you as he grabs your tossed coat from the floor and wraps you tightly within its fabric. “There,” he smiles as he pulls up his own pants, his face still flushed for different reasons.

You giggle as you shake your head, “Did I really get dicked down because of mistletoe?”

A snort escapes Shouto’s lips as he nods, “You did.”

“Well, I do like you, Shouto,” you whisper as he finishes dressing. “It’s not just because of the mistletoe.”

“I know,” Shouto whispers as he takes your cheeks in his hands. “And now this is me asking you on a date and if you’d like to be my girlfriend.”

Joy fills your heart as you laugh softly. “I’d love to be,” you say as your lips meet his in a gentle kiss right under the mistletoe.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

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[chubbyreaderwriter]

Weightless

Hellboy (2019) x Chubby/Plus Size Reader

Prompt:  Can I ask for Hellboy X reader where the reader has a strength kink and just loves being picked up, but because they’re usually heavier they don’t get it that often, but then Hellboy just picks them up like they’re weightless 🥺

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, implied smut

Masterlist

You sighed as you watched the main actor on the screen lift up the girl and twirl her around. You wished you could be picked up like that but all the guys you’ve ever dated were the size of your thigh and while you had a great time with them, you really just wanted someone who could at least pick you up. It was the most embarrassing thing in the world to ask someone to pick you up and they couldn’t do it because you were so heavy. After it happened once, you learned your lesson and hadn’t asked anyone to do it ever again. 

You sat back on the couch and sighed again, gaining the attention of your roommate, Alice. She perked up from where she was sitting at the table, “Hm? What’s up?” You shook your head, “Nothing, I’m fine.” Alice, happy to have an excuse to stop doing her homework, got up and walked over to the couch to plop down next to you, looking you in the eye, “After living with you for almost a year now, I can tell when something’s up, so go on tell me.” You looked down at your lap and thought about whether you wanted to tell her or not but you realised that Alice was not a judgemental person so you should feel safe to tell her anything, especially after she told you her own secrets. 

You kept your head down so you weren’t looking her in the eyes when you told her, “I just want to find a guy that can actually pick me up, like how they do in the movies and stuff.” You looked up once you didn’t hear anything from her in a while and you just saw her smiling at you, “What?” She shook her head, “Oh nothing, I just think you’re being silly, there’s lots of guys I know that could pick you up easily, I bet you’re not as heavy as you think.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Yeah right, if you think they can pick me up, send them my way please.” You got up and headed to your bedroom, deciding to call it a night and go to bed. Alice grinned and muttered to herself, “Okay, I will.” 

The next morning, you found yourself being woken up by a very energetic Alice, “Come on (Y/N), you have to get up, I’m going on a trip and you need to come with me.” You groaned and rolled over, “Why do I need to go? Get another friend to go with you, I wanna sleep.” Alice whined, “Please, you know you’re my only female friend, come with me~” You turned to face her again, “Why do you need to bring a female friend? You’re not trying to force me to go on some weird double date again because you know what happened last time.” 

Alice rolled her eyes, “No, it’s just there’s two guys and me and there’s bound to be more police guys when we sort everything out so please, I need a girl friend to help me get through it. I’ll pay for your snacks on the way there and back.” Finally deciding that you had nothing better to do, you slowly sat up and Alice grinned in victory, “Okay, dress comfy but cute and be quick, there’ll be here in about twenty minutes, love you~” 

You watched with an open mouth as she practically skipped out of the room to sit and wait for Hellboy and Ben to get here. You hurried to your joining bathroom to have a quick shower before you picked out your clothes from your wardrobe. You decided on a light grey tank top, black leggings, white running shoes and an oversized denim jacket. You quickly tied your hair up, not bothering to do anything with it and you didn’t have any time for makeup so you just grabbed your phone and purse and put them in your pockets before walking out of your bedroom. You walked into the living room to see Alice stood there with the infamous Hellboy and a guy with a scarred face. You assumed he must be Ben, if Alice’s stories were anything to go by. 

You nodded your head at them in greeting, “Hey, I’m (Y/N), I’ve heard a lot about you both.” Hellboy was the first of them to step forward, stretching out his normal hand, “Alice told us about you too, you’re very beautiful, I mean, no! Not that you’re not beautiful, cause you are, but - I just-” Alice cleared her throat, “We’ll follow you guys outside huh?” Ben nodded at the both of you and lead Hellboy outside. You blushed and Alice laughed since they were gone, “He really likes you huh? I’ve never seen him act like that before.” You looked away, “Stop it, you’re gonna make me blush.” Alice smirked, “You already are~”. 

You pushed her shoulder and she laughed as she made her way outside, letting you leave the flat before locking the door with her key. You two walked down the stairs to a large black van. You were a little skeptical but this was starting to be one of the most exciting experiences you ever had so you didn’t question it. You sat down on the empty bench, facing Hellboy who was sitting opposite. You looked to Alice but instead of getting in with you, she winked at you before closing the doors and went to get in the passenger’s seat next to Ben who was driving. 

You played with the sleeves of your jacket in the silence before you heard Hellboy clear his throat, making you look up at him, “Uh, I’m sorry about before, I’m not good at making first impressions.” You blushed from the memory of his words, “No, it’s fine, I thought it was sweet.” Hellboy noticeably perked up and sat straighter in his seat, “Oh, that’s good then. So, how come you’re living away from home?” You shrugged, “I just thought it was time to start living independently, can I ask where we’re going?” 

Alice, who had been listening in on everything you two said, turned around in her seat, “We’re going to the mansion to do some research, I told you this silly.” You stared at Alice with an open mouth, was she serious? Had she just tricked you into hanging out with her and two guys all day? You knew it, it was some weird double date again. You would’ve started an argument with her had it not been for Hellboy looking at you. You grit your teeth as you sat back, looking down at your lap. This meant that Hellboy’s chest was in view since he wasn’t wearing a shirt and you had to look away before you started blushing again. You couldn’t help but notice that he looked strong enough to pick you up and you had to immediately stop that train of thought before it became obvious what you were thinking about. 

It seemed to take forever until you reached the mansion and you waited for Alice to open the doors of the van before you got out. There was a lot of security around and it made you feel a little uneasy until you felt Alice linking her arm with yours as you walked inside. The four of you walked for about ten minutes before you reached a huge library, it had to have been the biggest library you’ve ever seen and from a quick glance at some of the book titles, not any old library either. 

Alice turned to face the three of you, “Okay we need all the books you can find on trolls, I’ll take Ben and start from the far right section and you take (Y/N) and start from the far left section.” Before you could even say anything, she was already dragging Ben away from you and Hellboy. You were going to kill her when you two got home. You looked at Hellboy, “I guess it’s just us then.” He stared after Alice and Ben, “Yeah, I guess so huh? Well, come on, I’ll show you where to start.” 

You really felt like a lost puppy following Hellboy around the library, it was very intimidating once you saw how big it actually was. The shelves were so high that it felt like they were going to topple over you at any moment. Once you reached your designated area, you started to look for anything to do with trolls but you were having trouble since half of these books were written in languages you couldn’t even recognise. When you finally spotted a book, it just had to be about ten shelves above your head. You looked side to side and when you saw that Hellboy had gone somewhere else, you tried to jump up to reach it but of course, you weren’t anywhere near. 

You continued to jump despite knowing that you weren’t going to reach it. Hellboy, who was just over in the next aisle, heard soft thumping noises and your grunts and was curious to see what you were doing. When he saw you jumping he shook his head. He chuckled to himself before walking over to you, “Here let me help.” You didn’t realise what he was doing until he had already lifted you onto his shoulders. You gasped as you felt yourself being taken off the ground. You bit your lip as you felt his hand on your thigh to help keep you up, “Can you reach it now?” Remembering what you were doing beforehand, you looked in front of you and picked out the book, “Yeah, I got it.” 

You felt almost disappointed when you felt yourself being lowered back onto the ground again but you handed him the book. He looked over it, “Good job, I’m sure this is exactly what Alice was looking for. Hey, you okay?” You knew you were blushing pretty hard, you could feel how hot your face was, but you couldn’t help it. You had a strange but familiar feeling in your stomach from what just happened and you replied with, “mhm” not trusting yourself to speak just yet. 

Hellboy wasn’t convinced though and pushed a little more, “Are you sure? Oh, I’m so stupid, I should’ve asked to lift you up, I’m sorry if I overstepped-” “No, I liked it.” You bit your lip and covered your mouth as you regretted blurting that out but you didn’t want him to feel bad. Hellboy paused as he looked at you, “..oh, I see.” You looked down, fearing the tone in his voice was a bad sign but this meant you couldn’t see him stepping towards you until he lifted your head up so he could kiss you. You gasped but fuck it, you weren’t going to deny that you wanted it so you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 

Hellboy took that opportunity to grab your thighs and lift you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You pulled back to whisper to yourself, “This is so hot.” Hellboy chuckled, having heard you, “What are you talking about?” You bit your lip, “It’s hot that you’re strong enough to pick me up.” He looked confused, “What do you mean? You don’t weigh a damn thing.” You couldn’t help but smile, “Really?” Hellboy nodded, “Of course, you’re like a feather, weightless.” His words turned you on enough to pull him back into another kiss, not that either of you were complaining. 

...

Ben and Alice looked at the tie hanging on Hellboy’s locked bedroom door, turning to each other. Alice grinned, “I think we’ll call this a job well done, don’t you?” Ben grimaced, “I just hope he’s not a one for sharing details, that’s not an imagine I want in my head.” Alice rolled her eyes and pulled Ben away from Hellboy’s bedroom, making her way out of the mansion and back home, she figured you would be spending the night elsewhere. 

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries. 

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter One: The One Where it Starts

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1615

Being an adult in general is a wild roller coaster. Whether it be balancing bills, expenses, keeping a proper career, all together it was a stressful period. Going to the bank or answering phone calls was difficult enough. Seriously, what is with people and constantly calling? It’s so much easier to just text. Not to mention it keeps the incredibly anxiety ridden people at bay, and leaves them in a sane state of mind without worrying about anything. 

     That brings us to the protagonist of our story. Lily Briar Osborne. The 33 year old child of Abel and Alicia Osborne. She was the sister to two younger siblings, Rose and Cedar. Can you sense a theme with the children's names? Even Lily herself seemed to carry on that legacy with her own son. While balancing her busy work and just life in general, Lily mothered a young boy named Hunter. Hunter Osborne-Harvey. The eleven year old boy that was the result of a much too early marriage of two young kids who believed this was it, they had found the one. Well, that was not exactly the ending of their fairy tale. It instead involved a mistress, many trips to Grandma and Grandpa's, and a few too many shots in order to handle one another.

     Lily was more-so a quiet girl. Definitely more of the silent type in comparison to the majority of people in her profession. She was a pediatrician, and the only time you really see her talk or even crack a smile, is when she was with the kids. She was always found making sure they felt comfortable. When the young ones were gone, she seemed to shut down. Giving straight and to the point answers. Not elaborating unless asked, and strictly sticking to just the facts.

     Lily and Hunter had found home in a small colonial home in the suburbs of Manhattan, New York. There, they can be found in the company of a German Shepard named Joey, after the beloved sitcom, Friends. You could always find the small family laying in Lily's bed with the comedy illuminating the room around them. Every other Sunday and Saturday before Hunter's father came to pick him up for the weekend, they'd lay in bed before going out for brunch at Lily's best friends cafe further into the city.

     Which is where the story began. a sunny Saturday morning in September.

-----

     "If he doesn't like you, it's a moo point."

     The two Osborne's laughed softly at the comment made by their favourite sitcom character. Lily's fingers gently ran across the arm of her son, creating a soothing rhythm as they watched the sitcom, his head laid comfortably against the pillows. The large dog laid spread down at the edge of the duvet where his breathing radiated gently through the room.

     "Alright why don't you head in to get dressed and we'll go to Aunt Gen's cafe, hm? Sound like a plan kiddo?'' Lily's feather light voice cooed as her hazel eyes moved to glance over at her son.

     "But I wanna stay home all day and watch friends." Hunter whined as he nuzzled further into his mom's bed.

     "No love, I'm sure your dad has lots of things planned for the weekend. And we can watch more episodes when you're back tomorrow, okay? I promise." Lily sighed while lifting her pointer finger to her son.

     The pointer finger promise was Lily and Hunter’s signature thing. Instead of making a pinky promise, which was the weakest finger, they used one of the strongest. to make the strongest promises. That is exactly what they would do. And they'd know that if they broke it, trust would be something that had to be earned back. And luckily for Lily, she trusted her son with her whole being. He told her everything, as far as she knew. Seeing as she wasn't in his head, who knew? Though he was very vocal about his distaste for visiting his father, and it did hurt Lily to hear the pain he felt. The separation agreement allowed Scott Harvey, Hunter's father, to have the young boy every other weekend.

     Lily was lucky enough to have primary custody. Mostly because Scott was never a fully invested father before the divorce, so the court had no issue granting Lily the majority of the custody. But of course, Scott could come by whenever to see Hunter, as well as if he had something planned, he could pick up his son. But...Hunter wasn't the biggest fan of his father.

     Neither was Lily.

     Lily and Scott got divorced a few years ago when Hunter was a ripe 7 years old, and now he was 11, and still lacked the father figure he longed for. In those 7 years, Scott never really put an effort in. and hunter was a smart kid, and already harbored a distaste for the distant nature of his father. and it annoyed him, and Lily, that all of the sudden, after the divorce, Scott wished to be the great father he never was before. Despite his many attempts, it never worked out well for him.

     "Promise." Hunter smiled gently and wrapped his pointer finger around Lily's, before sliding out from underneath the white duvet that covered the two of them, startling the dog that laid at the end of the bed.

     As Hunter left the room, a small sigh escaped the blonde doctor's lips. She hated these days, when Hunter had to go visit his father. But she knew it was important for a child's psyche to have at least a relationship with their father. Picking herself up as well, Lily heaved herself into her closet. She picked out a white spring dress with blue baby's breath designs splayed across the entire piece of clothing. It was a tank top strap, and it was the end of summer and a small breeze danced through her window. She slid a blue jean jacket over her arms before stepping into her bathroom to complete her basic routine.

     After she pulled her hair into a pony, lily stepped out of her room after calling Joey out and down the wooden stairs to the main floor, where Hunter sat at the front door with his backpack and Converse on. Lily couldn't help but smile gently at her punctual son and felt proud of how she had raised him. And how he had grown to be a self-sufficient boy who was also able to ask for help when need be.

     "You gonna get the pancakes again today kiddo?" Lily wondered while stepping into her ballet flats and ruffling  the fur on Joey's back before opening the white door for her son.

     "Aunt Gen keeps putting secret blueberries in them and acting as though they're chocolate chips. I don't trust her anymore."

-----

     Lily and Hunter stepped out of the silver 2019 Honda passport, the two Osborne's took a deep breath of the muggy New York air. Hunter stood by Lily's side as she paid for the parking spot they were lucky enough to grab in the busy streets. She slid her arm around the boy's shoulders, before leading the two towards the fairly busy cafe her best friend owned.

     Genevive Fairchild. Lily's best friend for close to 20 years now. The two had met during their highschool orientation back in 2005. Gen was the extroverted hippy with conservative parents who disagreed with their child's decisions and mannerisms. She was always wearing what was to become her signature dreadlocks with golden decals littering her hair. Baggy shirts with fishnet cardigans and ripped jeans, the necessities to embody Gen. She entered the school loud and unbothered by others opinions or thoughts on how she acted or what she wore. But somehow, she was taken with the quiet blonde who kept her opinions to herself, hands tucked behind her back.

     Lily hadn't changed much in these twenty years, much to her parents dismay. Her parents were elated when their timid daughter brought home the boisterous and carefree Genevieve. Lily's parents were the same as Gen, unbothered and one with the Earth, no real care about people's opinions. Her father was a botanist and her mother a conversationalist. Plants and crystals littered the eco friendly home of Lily's childhood in the rural area of Long Island, New York. To see their studious, goody-good, daughter who wore knee length dresses everyday and cardigans, to bring home such a carefree spirit, was a breath of long needed fresh air for them.

     Ever since then, the two were inseparable. Lily even made her the godmother of Hunter. They both had keys to each others places, and nothing ever seemed to get in between the two of them. Other than those many years Scott wreaked havoc on their friendship. He kept Lily under some sort of spell, no matter how many times Gen attempted to convince her of the terrible manner of their relationship. Eventually, Gen gave up on the fight. until the young chocolate skin girl caught her best friend's husband getting it on with some girl at a party Gen was invited to.

     And that was the end of that marriage. Gen stayed with lily almost every night while everything was happening. And when her or Scott couldn't get Hunter up to Lily's parents, Gen would take him. Make sure he wasn't too focused on the broken state of his mother.

     As the two pushed open the door to the cafe, they were greeted with the fresh smell of coffee and pastries. That is, before they were practically being tackled by the woman earlier mentioned.

     "You two will NOT believe who is here right now."

[annaphoenix1994]

Ch.33 - Friends Close, Enemies Closer

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Kiera starts her search for the culprit of the cattle crime.

Bud paced along the field of deceased cattle, his lips pursed and his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Kiera stood alongside him as Frankie and Lawson walked along the corpses of the livestock. "Sir," Lawson said, approaching him with a clasp of what looked like wheat grass. "Found your culprit."

Bud took the grass from Lawson's hand, bringing it up to his nose before slinging it to the ground. "Goddamn clover," He mumbled. "This is a fuckin' crime scene. Kiera, call your brother and get livestock agents out here."

She nodded, removing her phone from the pocket of her bibs. Dennis was considered the black sheep of the family, but he wasn't included nonetheless. He lived off of the ranch with a family of his own as well as ran his own real estate business.

"Cole, you're not a reserve agent anymore, you're on regular duty. You cover this area. I don't even want a fuckin' bird landing on it. Got me?"

"Yes, sir." Cole nodded.

"You, come with me." Bud pointed to his daughter, both Soap and Simon watching as they all shared a look of confusion. What the fuck is happening here?

"Looks like we have another fight on our hands, honey." Bud said lowly, adjusting his hat.

"Do you have any idea who would do this?"

"No," He shook his head. "That's why I need your help."

"I'll get right on it."

"Use my office in the lodge."

Once the sheriff arrived, tension seemed tense between Bud and sheriff Richards, the men glaring at each other as if they had a past conflict. "So, you think this was intentional?"

Bud nodded.

"I don't see any tire tracks. The fence is way over there, so nobody threw it over and it didn't fall out of the fucking sky--"

"That's exactly what it did."

Richards scoffed, "So you think someone flew a plane over here and dropped clover on your cattle in the middle of the night?"

"That's the only thing I can think of," Kiera added, the tension between the three rising, Simon's fingers flexing against the reins in his hands as he stayed on his horse as well as the rest of the team. "Could've been a King Air, which is designed for skydiving and has a side door large enough and could hold the weight."

"Why would anyone do that? Who would do that?" Richards questioned.

"That's what we need to find out."

"Bud, I have no jurisdiction. Cattle is Chris's department. What can I do for you?" He sighed, referring to Chris Farley - the Livestock Commissioner of Wyoming.

"Well, Chris has six four full-time agents and two reserves. He doesn't have the manpower for this investigation. I need your deputies."

"No, I can't spare any deputies," Richards shook his head. "There's more county police guarding the jail than who I have out on patrol."

"You wanna help so bad, then give me deputies or deputize my men, and not in eight weeks - right now, right now in this field."

"Which ones?"

Bud turned and looked at his daughter, "Her, for starters."

Richards scoffed, Simon seeing the borderline disgust Richards had once he laid eyes on her. And he didn't like it. "Isn't she still on duty with her federation?"

"On leave." Kiera corrected.

Richards paused, looking down to the ground at his feet, ignoring the searing pain of his fingers freezing from the harsh wind.

"In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going to start in this valley," Bud said to Richards, patting the sheriff's shoulder. "Today is the day you choose sides."

He sighed, removing his hat and the wind nipping at his semi-bald head, "I'll issue the permit, but she has got to understand that a gun isn't the first thing she reaches for. I know how she is--"

"She's trained to use it."

"Well, now you train her not to use it," Richards scoffed, watching Bud walk to his daughter. "If it comes out of your holster, you better have a sure-as-shit reason to use it, got it?"

"Loud and clear." She sighed, looking over at Simon, embarrassed that the "Christmas Break" had to come to an end. You're about to see why we're all so crazy, babe...

"If she calls dispatch for support, I expect you to give it to her," Bud shouted, his hands on his hips as he watched Richards walk away towards his car. "Did you hear me?" He repeated.

"I heard you, Bud! The whole goddamn valley heard you!"

Bud shook his head, scoffing as he pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket, lighting it before looking to Kiera, "I know you can find out who did this. Find the evidence. When you do, you drag him by the hair back to me."

"You got it, daddy," Kiera nodded, sighing as she returned to her horse, the split rein clasped between Simon's fingers as he kept her horse still for her. "Guess I'm back to work." She frowned.

"Don't worry. We'll find out who did this, love." He encouraged her.

"I need to make a call."

He furrowed his brows at her, asking who.

*

Simon sat in the guesthouse with the rest of the men, shaking his leg impatiently with both worry and anxiousness as he hadn't seen Kiera since discovering the deceased cattle in the field. A beer bottle clasped between his fingers, leaving all but two sips as it had been hours since he had seen her. What is going to happen? Is someone starting a war with her family? I need to do something.

"What's eating at you, Simon?" Price asked, taking note of Simon's worry by his furrowed brows and sad eyes.

"Never seen nothing like it."

"Nor have I," Price sighed. "She has it under control. You should know that by now."

"It's not her I worry about - I worry about who this person is that intentionally did this."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know what's going to be worse: when her father gets a hold of him or when she gets a hold of him."

Price breathed a chuckle, lighting a cigar and offering one to Simon, "She's a walking fit of rage, but I don't think I've ever seen her as angry as I did today."

"I don't know about that, she was spitting fire that night I found her in the prison break," Alejandro added. "I feel sorry for whoever decided to start a war with her."

"It had to have been someone who knew of this place. Aren't cattle worth thousands?"

"Yeah, per head," Simon added with his extended knowledge of raising cattle by overhearing conversations between Kiera and her father. "At least fourteen hundred per cow."

"Fuck," Soap sighed, sipping from his bottle of beer. "Wonder how many there were?"

Simon shrugged, "Frankie and Lawson are counting them." He recalled, remembering how they stayed behind to get an exact number of fallen livestock before herding the bloating heifer they had saved to the barn for recovery.

"Is-Is there anything we should do?"

"I don't know. As much as we shouldn't expect to, have your guns ready just in case."

The desire to go to the lodge and check on her was unraveling within every minute, noting that dusk was approaching. Removing his gifted phone from his pocket, the corner of his mouth curled as he looked at the wallpaper he had figured out how to set - his favorite photo of her he had kept in his uniform breast pocket, glad he was able to set it to where he can look at it every time he looked at his phone.

Finding the 'messages' app, he searched her name, relieved that she had programmed it already for him by putting in her contact information as well as the rest of his team's, knowing he was always eager to keep in contact with his friends--

Family.

Today, 4:18 PM

Simon: Are u in the lodge

The text was simple, yet held so much worry behind his screen as he waited for her to read it, wondering if it would even notify him that she had. He set the phone aside, ensuring the ringer was on before trying to peer his focus on the television that both Price and Gaz had their attention to.

You two are seriously obsessed with that show, he scoffed to himself, forcing him to watch as he knew better than to ask Price to change the channel.

It was "Lizard Lick Towing."

Soap joined in on the watch party, chuckling at Ronnie on the screen. "I like his haircut." He commented, referring to Ronnie's mohawk.

"Of course you do." Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes before they darted to his phone, seeing Kiera had finally replied to him.

Today, 4:47 PM

Kiera: No. On my way back from Cody. Should be home in an hour.

Simon: ok. be careful

Kiera: I'll think about it.

Simon huffed at her response.

Simon: I love you

Kiera: I love you, too. See you soon. :)

*

The sound of Kiera's truck caught Simon's attention from the kitchen of her house, wanting to have dinner at least started for her when she returned. Though Kiera wished the roles were reversed, thinking that she was the one who needed to have dinner ready for him after a long day.

Unbeknownst to her, Simon thoroughly enjoyed cooking for her. Granted, he wasn't the best cook, but it reminded him of how he would cook for his mother when she was sick. It was nostalgic to him as his wandering thoughts sunk back into the depression of finding her deceased from enemy forces, the memory never failing to leave his mind.

He heard her rustling with the doorknob, turning his head to watch her enter the house with a smile on her face. She was wearing a bulletproof vest with a badge hanging around her neck with a laptop clutched under her arm. "Hey," She smiled, the velcro of her vest ripping apart as she removed it along with her badge, setting it on the table as well as the laptop before walking up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and seeking his natural warmth. "You don't have to start dinner, I can-"

"I'm going to," He hummed, placing a delicate kiss to her neck as he was grateful for her return. "Look at you, little miss deputy." He poked.

"I figured I should've been suspicious when this break went on too long," She frowned. "You sure you want to deal with me and this crazy family?"

"Positive. As long as it's with you, the whole world can throw itself at me."

She smiled, leaning her head on his chest as her fingers spread through his hair. "I'm trying to find any leads. So far, nothing."

"You'll figure it out, C.I.A." He encouraged.

"It's one thing if it's terrorism, which I'm used to, but I've never had to deal with something like this before. Someone is wanting to attack this family and it's up to me to stop it."

"Well, I'll be guns-ready if it comes down to it."

"Oh, I know," She chuckled. "I pity whoever it is."

"That's for sure."

*

A loud moan ricocheted from the shower walls as Simon had her pinned against it, her hands bracing against the wet tiles as he had a bruising hold on her hips. Hot water streamed down his back, leaving marks in its wake. Neither had expected to be having a lovemaking session in the shower, but her constant teasing and his eagerness for her touch were too much to ignore. In one powerful thrust, she felt her feet shift against the shower floor, causing her to gasp, "Baby, don't let me fall." She giggled.

"Oh, you're not going anywhere." He smirked, using his body to push her up further against the wall, his lips finding her shoulder and pressing a soft kiss there, his growing beard scratching against her skin.

She reached her arm around his neck, turning her head to kiss him as his thrusting began to subside, his hot breath against her ear before he peppered kisses to the skin behind her ear when his hand reached down to slide down her leg, lifting it up to where her foot rested on the side of the tub, giving him deeper access. She gasped, leaning her head back onto his shoulder as his head cradled hers, their cheeks pressed together.

He listened to her moans, holding back from edging her as he did before, and let her enjoy the release of her orgasm, his soon to follow. The grip on the back of his neck intensified as her rush of ecstasy consumed her as his hand fondled her clit as his massive arm snaked down her torso.

He encouraged her through her orgasm with three delicate kisses to the crook of her neck, "There you go, love. Let go." He encouraged her, his other hand gripping her hip and rubbing soothing circles on the bone, ensuring her that he was there to help tame the wave of arousal.

She panted in overstimulation briefly as Simon's orgasm was soon to follow, his grip tightening on her as the rush subsided.

She relaxed into his touch, the water becoming too hot as the surface of her skin matched with his was beyond intensifying. "At least we're already in the shower to clean up the mess." She giggled, feeling his smirk on her lips at her comment.

"Makes it easier, doesn't it?" He smirked, reaching for the washcloth that was draped over the side of the tub, running his fingers through his wet hair as his body caught all of the water during their intimacy.

He helped wipe away the stickiness between her legs as she held onto him for support, turning the heat of the water down as he helped guide her to the falling water, insisting on washing her hair for her.

"You know something?"

He hummed in response, the pads of his fingers massaging her scalp gently.

"We never started dinner."

"Well, you were desperate to have a shower," He chuckled. "Besides, I'm never against having dessert before dinner."

"I'm surprised we didn't use all of the hot water." She blushed.

His lips pressed against her shoulder, "I mean, give me a few minutes and I'll be ready to have you against the wall again."

"Don't tempt me."

*

"Are you ever going to stop working for the day?" Simon huffed as he made her a plate of fresh food, seeing she was still on her laptop. 

"Eventually," She sighed, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "I just have to make a call." 

"It can't wait for the morning?" 

"Not something like this, babe." 

He sighed, "I'll take your word for it. Just at least eat." 

She nodded as he sat the plate of food next to her, closing the lid to her laptop before beating him to the fridge, getting him a drink before getting her own, a grin on her face as she watched him make his own. She rushed to compile the data she had been needing to search, jotting down quick notes before he joined her at the table, knowing he had been glaring at her. "Thank you," He said, appreciative that she put away her work to have dinner. "Find anything?" 

"No," She sighed, opening her can of Dr. Pepper. "I need names to run through a database and see if I can pinpoint who would've had that plane." 

"It had to have been someone with deliberate intentions." 

"I know. I ran Graves' name to see if he owned a plane. Even though he's dead, it wouldn't surprise me if word got around to take me out." 

Simon gulped.

The table fell quiet as the couple ate, a mischievous chuckle filtering through her nose as she looked up to the ceiling, Simon watching as, out of habit, reached her hand toward her shirt pocket in search of her vape pen. "What is it?" He asked, swallowing his food as he watched her chuckle. "Kiera?" 

"Right under my goddamn nose." 

[crash-cinematic-universe]

A Speedster, A Nuclear Bomb, and a Worn Down Walkman (prologue)

pairing: Peter Maximoff/fem!Wilson!reader

summary: Y/n Wilson is the only child of the renowned X-Man Deadpool. When Y/n is asked to enroll in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters by Charles Xavier himself, she has no choice but to accept; much to the dismay of her father. Y/n isn’t used to the knew surroundings or the constant stress of her mutation. All she wanted to do was disappear. Little did Y/n know, she caught the eyes of a certain speedster who wasn’t planning on letting her fade away anytime soon. 

based off of this request:  Hey, I was wondering if you could write something about dating peter maximoff and being deadpools kid - @8-eight-8​

warnings: none 

notes: fuck it. Peter Maximoff series #2. I can’t be stopped.

___________

          "Dad, I thought you hated the X-Men," I asked as the car turned into the long driveway to the mansion. 

          "Y/n, it's time that I put our differences aside and lend them a hand. I need to be the bigger person" My father says, slowly bringing the car to a stop.

          "You owe Charles a favor, don't you?" Wade chuckles before nodding.

          "I accidentally destroyed half their medical wing. To be fair, it wasn't technically my fault–" I cut him off

          "Any time you have to say 'technically' proceeding a horrible accident, it's not a great sign." Wade laughs, pulling the keys out of the ignition and stepping out of the beaten car. 

          The X-Mansion was beautiful, the golden sunlight hitting the brick on the outside giving off an odd, homey feeling. The grass was a bright, vibrant green, small flowers and other plants scattered around here and there. Trees shade the lawns, a glimmering lake surrounded by brush reflecting the sun onto the side of the building. Students were gathered in small groups, laughter and chatter riding the gentle breeze. I understand why so many people love living here, it's breathtakingly gorgeous; the architecture alone is stunning.

          "Hello? Earth to Y/n? We're supposed to meet dear old Charlie inside." My father calls, already walking towards the large wooden doors. The stone pathway leading to the entrance has small purple flowers along both sides, a few small weeds growing through the cracks in the grey stone. I'm careful not to trample any of the small buds as I follow behind my father. 

          The interior of the mansion is equally as breathtaking as the exterior, if not, more. Carefully crafted marble pillars stand in the common area, each room expertly designed to perfection. I was at a loss for words; the mansion is extraordinary.

        "Thank you, darling," a voice from behind me said, startling me slightly. "I made sure each part of the mansion was fit to suit my students." Charles Xavior stood-- or, sat-- before me. 

          "What you've done here is amazing, I'm beyond impressed. Not that my opinion means that much." I chuckle. 

          "Actually, your opinion matters the most to me. That's actually why you're here today, but we'll get into that bit later." Charles assures, soon turning to greet my father. 'your opinion matters most to me'? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

          "Y/n, Charles and I are going to his office for a bit. We'll call you when you're needed." My father gives me the I'm-confused-too-just-go-with-it look, and I nod slowly. 

          "A few of my students were very excited to meet someone new, they should be here soon." Charles smiles before leaving with my father. 

          It feels odd to be standing in the middle of a vast mansion completely alone, doing absolutely nothing, so I decide to take a closer look around. The hallways are wide, each classroom bustling with action and emotion although no classes are going on. I soon find myself among the endless bookcases in the library, each title a work of classic literature, poetry, old sonnets or plays; the library is peaceful, and calm. That is, until the beginning notes to Hotel California echo through the hallways, breaking my enamored trance. A smile breaks out on my face.

          "I love this song," I say to myself before pulling a compilation of Edgar Allen Poe's works off the shelf. I'm shocked to see a pair of brown eyes staring at me from the other side of the shelf.

        "So, you're an Eagles fan, huh?" The young man across the shelf asks me. I nod slowly.

         "Uh, yeah, although I'm more of a Pink Floyd kinda person." The man smiles before walking over to my side of the bookshelf, finally letting me get a better look at him. His hair is a light, shimmering silver, a similarly colored jacket covering the majority of his torso, the exposed fabric beneath it showing a worn down Pink Floyd t-shirt. I smiled, extending my hand. His hand shoots out a bit too quickly and he shakes my hand too vigorously, and that's when his mutation becomes clear. 

          "So, super speed? Cool. Ya know, that comes with a bunch of other cool mini-mutations." I explain. 

          "Really? Wow!" the man exclaims, soon catching his own excitement. "I mean, uh, yeah, I might as well have cool mini-mutations. I am the coolest person here." He smirks. "I'm Peter, Peter Maximoff."

          "Y/n Wilson." I say. "So, what's there to do around here? The scenery and architecture is gorgeous, but there's not much else." 

          "Well, uh, that's true." Peter takes a careful step closer to me. "We have to make our own fun around here."

          "Oh yeah?" I drawl, a smirk growing on my face. "I guess I'm gonna have to see if you really are the coolest person here." Peter returns the smirk, his brown eyes flashing with excitement and amusement. He moves closer, and I make the snap decision to mess with him.

           "You seem like you have good taste in music," I say, slyly moving away from Peter. He looks slightly sad, but the smugness soon returns.

           "Wanna test the theory? I have a record player in my room, we could go…" he draws on. "... explore the collection."

        I'm about to respond, but my attention is soon caught by a puff of black smoke that soon disperses to reveal a young boy, his skin a deep blue.

           "Hi! You must be ze new girl! My name is Kurt Wagner, very nice to meet you!" Kurt says, a smile breaking out on his face as I shake his hand. 

            "Oh, uh, I'm not a student here. At least, I don't think so. My dad owes Charles a favor, and I guess I needed to come along." I clarify, and out of the corner of my eye I see Peter's face flash with disappointment. 

            "Speaking of which, I should probably go check in on them." I say, stepping backwards away from the two men. "It was wonderful meeting the both of you." I shot a genuine smile toward the pair, my eyes meeting Peter's for a split second. I shoot him a wink and bite back a laugh when I see his face flush and his cheeks dust with blush.

            By the time I reach Xavier’s office, my father is waiting outside the door. The expression on his face was unreadable. I walked into the musty office, the door shutting behind me. Wade was still outside. Charles speaks.

            “Please, Miss Y/n, have a seat.” He motions to the chair in front of his desk. The room is silent, the air is heavy with unspoken words.

            “Professor Xavier, did I do something wrong?” I inquire worriedly. Xavier’s face darkens.

            “I see you’ve become acquainted with Peter. I can hear it, he thinks you’re interesting.” Charles ignores my question.

            “Professor, if there’s something you need to tell me, you must tell me. I’m not a kid, I can take it.” I insist, urging him on. I didn’t hear the office door open behind me, but suddenly Wade is next to me.

            “He wants you on the X-Men, Y/n.” He says flatly. “He wants you to enlist in the academy. He wants you to stay here for good.”

            “You’re growing more powerful, Y/n, and you know it.” Charles interjects, his voice firmer than before. “We need you, you’ll have more opportunities here, you’ll find more friends, hell, you already caught someone’s attention.”

            “You don’t know her Charles! She’s my goddamn daughter!” My father shouts, anger evident in his voice. It all escalates quickly, and soon enough Charles and Wade are shouting at each other. Their voices are loud-- too loud, and it’s all much too overwhelming. They’re yelled and yelling and yelling and yelling and---

            “SHUT UP!” I shout, a burst of energy blowing them both backwards. It’s only then that I realize Charles is right; I’m getting powerful. Soon, I won’t be able to control it. “Charles… how long would I be staying here?” My father’s face drops.

            “However long it takes to ensure that you can control your abilities.” Charles explains.

            “Y/n, you and I both know that’s just smart people talk for ‘forever’.” My father snaps, but I raise my hand to silence him.

            “Charles, I’d like a minute alone with my father.” My voice is firm, unyielding, and unforgiving. Charles is quick to exit his office, leaving me alone with Wade. His eyes plead with mine before he speaks.

            “Y/n, please, you’re all I have. You-- You can’t go, you just can’t.” Wade makes no effort to hide the desperation in his voice-- or in his eyes. It breaks my heart to have to leave, but it’s for the best.

            “Dad, you know Charles is right. I’m getting stronger, I could hurt someone if I lost control.” His eyes flashed with acceptance and realization, along with a pang of hurt. “It’s not like I’ll never see you, I’ll come visit, I swear.”

            “Answer me one question.” My father says quietly, standing straighter than before. “Please, tell me you’re not just doing this for that Peter kid.” My eyes widen, and I’m almost offended. Peter hadn’t so much as crossed my mind during my decision making; did Wade think that little of me? “Of course not, what kind of person do you think I am?” Wade realizes his mistake and is quick to correct it.

             “I didn’t-- I meant-- I just wanted to make sure you thought this through.” I do nothing but nod. “If this is really what you want then… I guess I can’t stop you.” With that statement, my father walked over to the door and called Charles back in.

            “Have you reached a decision?” Charles’s voice calls through the room. I turn to look him dead in the eyes. 

            “I’m in.”

[regardingseas]

Ttile: Echoed Vexations (Part One, part two linked)

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Rating: Teen and up audiences (violence warning)

AO3: here! (Full story at once)

•••

Plot Summary:

It's all too easy to turn a blind eye to the past-- to believe that because someone has been shielded from harm's way, they should no longer fear the wrath of their opponent's creed. They're safe now, after all, so why would they..?

Yes, Scar and Cub are certainly "safe", but they're still haunted by memories of the Vex and their deals all the same.

OR

An average afternoon during the HCB Base Swap is cut short when Mumbo accidentally digs up a remnant from Scar's Vex partnership days, and unfortunately for the town's mayor, the other Hermit is far from aware just how triggering the topic can truly be. Things only dissolve from there, and in the end, Grian lends a helping hand to console a friend.

•••

Additional Content Warnings:

Depictions of trauma disorders, panic attacks, flashbacks, paranoid thoughts/delusions, manipulation, gaslighting, threats, injury, and violence. Mentions of religious themes, unintentional self-harm, and non-permanent character death.

Do be careful, but otherwise, enjoy!

•••

The sun was still high in the sky even as Scar finished decorating the monument's support chains, sweltering rays beaming down and adding to the oppressive humidity of the jungle around him. With his usual jacket set aside to fight the heat, he wiped away the beads of sweat that had gathered on his forehead and grabbed a stray bucket from the sidelines. He'd nearly finished the waterfall aspect of the design-- crystal blue streams cascading over the edges of four white spanners, all joining together in the octagonal pool at the base's foundation. It was looking quite spectacular, if he were to say so himself, with the vine-coiled braces and additional water currents tying the otherwise juxtaposing themes together nicely.

Scar scooped up a fresh pail of water, filling it to the brim and hauling it towards the last pillar. He glanced down at the container as he carried it, catching a glimpse of his reflection from the liquid inside. His face shone red with effort, misplaced strands of hair having clung themselves to his tan skin.

Though unsurprised, he still couldn't help but laugh at the rippling image. "It's just my luck I'd swap with another jungle dwelling Hermit. I swear, I can never escape this climate for long. First the island last year, then all this."

With a shake of his head he returned his gaze upwards, continuing to muse aloud to the landscape before him, "You tropics are wonderful and all, but it sure would've been a nice change of pace to set up camp in somewhere like the mountains. Or pull total 180 and have landed in the tundras!"

Concepts for each design raced through his head, each idea fighting the others for dominance and tacking details onto itself, trying to land its place on the metaphorical pedestal of his imagination. A cottage with medieval influences? No, that would be far too typical, amp both of those components up. An entire village with a steampunk driven aesthetic, built into the mountainscape itself; no doubt with custom terraforming to integrate the buildings into the natural environment. That was more like it.

Scar could envision working windmills and waterwheels accompanying purposefully makeshift farmlands, historic blimps having reclaimed skies where they'd soar high overhead. Below them, eye-catching pops of colour, shining through as floating lanterns that hover above connective rope bridges.

As for the arctic concept? Something more grand would be ideal. In his fantasy, he'd created an absolute oxymoron of the words cabin and mansion jumbled together, and he adored it that way. A bottom floor made of bricked stone, the top made of logs and large windows to oversee the view. Accompanying them in the same manner would be a balcony, propped on columns that hugged the building and curved around its corners. The top deck would be open for clear days, and the space below it safe on harsher ones. Sloped roofs would be adorned with chimneys, and the interior warmed by cozy flames that were kept organized with inviting lofts. The living area could be split leveled, sinking down to create its own margin where guests could comfortably gather by the fireplace and--

There was a tug at his ankle, and next thing he knew, a bemused Scar went crashing to the ground, having been too caught up to notice the trailing plants blocking his footway. His hands shot out to catch himself, palms scraping against the concrete floor in a way similar to the childhood stunt of crashing and burning on the pavement. A stinging snapped up his arms, and the water bucket dropped from his grasp, clattering down with a metallic rumble before spilling its contents across the floor.

Scar pushed himself upright with a hiss of air through his teeth, shaking off his grazed palms and wiping them on his jeans. Pulling his foot free from the greenery and gathering himself up was no problem, what was a problem, however, was the troubling sight now before him.

The water had spilled all over one of Mumbo's redstone contraptions, causing the device to short circuit and emit a sort of maroon-grey smoke. The wires fashioned from the compacted dust had been all but washed away, any remaining pieces hanging on by threads and failing miserably whenever a signal attempted to fire; more so sizzling rather than surging alight with energy.

"Oh, crud!" he shouted, racing towards the machine and yanking on the shut-off switch to divert any further input from the broken setup.

It powered down, but Scar was still left swatting the coloured smoke from his face, coughing as the scent of burnt metallics filled his nostrils. When had he gotten so absorbed in possible building opportunities that he'd managed to miss the foliage in front of him? Why had he even been wondering so deeply about it, anyway? This event was about improving one another's bases by adding their own personal touches, not starting a new project entirely.

Scar sighed, he wasn't sure why his mind had begun drifting so far. He'd like to blame it on the wild imagination of a builder, but he had a feeling there was a little more to it. Sometimes, when the world wasn't too much to handle, it was too easy to let fall away. Maybe he spent too much time daydreaming-- he was sure there was a word for that, when trances became so all encompassing, so engrossing.

"But I don't have time to think about that right now," he reminded himself, "I really need to fix this. It doesn't look like most of this redstone is salvageable, I'll have to get new supplies to repair it. Maybe some of the circuits are okay..?"

Scar nudged a repeater with his shoe, the device making an unnatural sloshing noise in his attempt to change the feed-in. He scrunched up his nose, "Okay, nope, gonna need to replace that, too."

Running a hand through his hair in defeat, he glanced towards Mumbo's storage system before shaking his head. It wouldn't be right to use the other man's supplies without asking, let alone waste them on a mistake made due to Scar's own carelessness. He'd have to make his way back to his original base and gather the materials from there once more. When he dropped by initially, he figured he'd gotten everything he needed, but apparently hadn't accounted for dissociation-induced redstone mishaps.

"I guess we're making a trip back," Scar announced to no one, finally picking up the empty bucket to set it safely aside. He made his way over to his tent, temporarily discarding any excess materials and bidding adieu to Jellie before grabbing his elytra and setting off.

Taking to the skies, Scar squinted against the wind as it roared in his ears. His hair parted itself from where it had stuck, short locks brushed back by the flowing breeze. With arms extended for balance, and maybe a dash of amusement, he lit his rockets and propelled himself into the distance.

-----

It wasn't long before he encroached on his base again, allowing his faux wings to glide him downward where he kicked out his legs to come to a soft landing. Scar stopped before the massive drill site just on the outskirts of the forest, heading towards the agglomeration of crates and boxes he had haphazardly stowed aside. He was certain there had to be the necessary hardware in one of the many containers, though which that may be was lost on him. At least, thanks to Mumbo and his new storage system, the chest monster he'd created would soon be a thing of the past.

"I wonder how that's going for him..." Scar pondered, striding over to a random shulker and beginning his sure-to-be protracted search.

"Scar?" a familiar voice interrupted, making him peer ahead to see the moustached man himself rounding the corner. "Hello there! I see you've made yourself rather at home at my base," Mumbo teased.

He couldn't help but chuckle, "That I have. I just needed to stop by and pick up some redstone and iron. With all the ore this place has quarried up, I was sure there's bound to be more of that here than back at Larry."

Mumbo faked surprise with a hearty grin, "Getting into mechanics, are we? Have the inner workings of the temple really had that much influence on you after only a few days?"

"Now I wouldn't say that," Scar shook his head and closed the lid of the grey shulker, seeing no point in hiding the truth. "I took a tumble holding a bucket of water and it kinda spilled on one of the contraptions. I'm sorry for the trouble-- but don't worry! I came here to fix it right up. I just didn't wanna waste your materials fixing my silly error."

The suited man waved his hand dismissively, "Nonsense, it's no trouble. Have you seen the improvements you've made to that place? I mean, of course you've seen them, you built them, but rhetorically speaking--" Mumbo cleared his throat, "Just don't fret over it, I trust that you'll have it fixed right up in no time."

Scar smiled, "Thanks, dude. Now I just have to find where on Earth I put those ore…"

Mumbo gave another laugh, "You know, you can feel free to use some of my things if need be. I have no idea how you expect to find anything in this mess. I'm only trying to do a basic look through so I know where to begin when it comes to the item sorter, but even that doesn't seem to do much good. I swear, it's like trying to play a very intense game of memory, with thousands of nonsensical cards all scattered about."

Scar snickered sheepishly at the comparison, "Yeah, no kidding. But being able to use some resources without flying all the way over here would be great. Thanks again, Mumbo. I don't know if there's anything you'll need here while working, but hey, consider it free range. We're doing these things for each other in the long run, anyway."

"I'd say, 'unless we don't switch back our deeds', but in all honesty? I'm beginning to miss the ol' living monument already."

The two exchange a chuckle before returning to their previous tasks, both going back to digging through the pile of chests in preparation for their projects.

It took longer than Scar wanted to admit to finally find the crate stocked with valuables-- sighing in relief at the sight and immediately beginning to pile the items into his inventory. There were pre-smelted metals from an iron farm, so he didn't have to bother with the ore, and the redstone he'd gathered was already in dust from, meaning all he'd have to do was craft the items after returning.

"I wonder if it would've been easier to stop by the shopping district and buy these directly, instead of making them by hand..." he said, "Oh well, saves on diamonds, and these had to be used some time, I guess."

"Talking to yourself over there?" Mumbo asked.

"Just thinking aloud is all."

"I see," the moustached man nodded, pushing himself up from where he'd been examining the supplies. "I found something neat from last year! Do you wanna see?"

"Sure!" Scar agreed, setting aside his intent of flying back in favour of seeing what it was Mumbo had to show him.

He smiled and stepped over to Scar, holding out a faded piece of paper for them both to see, "I found it stuck to the bottom of a shulker box! Can you believe we used to be competition so recently?" He joked.

Scar could only stare at the advert before him, a steele blue page embellished with a vault-like ring in the center. It meant nothing to the untrained eye, but to him, all of the company's horrors were sealed underneath. ConCorp read bold text in half-connected lettering, the logo finalizing its signature with a black bow tie adorning the bottom.

"Hardly," managed Scar, having just remembered he'd been asked a question, "But it wasn't that recent."

"It was practically yesterday if we're talking business," Mumbo snickered, "but we aren't. I'm not very good at business."

"Me neither, I prefer mayorship," he said in an attempt to change the subject.

Mumbo, however, didn't seem to notice, only turning to stare at Scar with eyes wide. "Are you kidding me? You were quite literally the richest Hermit of all last year! You're wonderful at business. Sahara was amazing, and I don't for a second doubt it was the most ambitious project of our group to date, but she had plenty of bugs, being the machine powered industry that she was. ConCorp, however? That was an utter monopoly! The thing lasted two bloody seasons!"

Scar chuckled awkwardly, "I know, I know, Cub and I worked very hard. But it wasn't all us, we couldn't have done it alone."

"Give yourself more credit," Mumbo insisted, "I'm more than convinced you could have gotten your business up and running even without the help of your Vex friends. Weren't they less prominent in your company last year, anyway? You did change your guy's name from ConVex to ConCorp, after all. I think that would imply less input on their part."

"Not really," he explained, though the tension building in his body was becoming harder to conceal. He had to keep his arms rigid so that they wouldn't shake, forcing in deep breaths to avoid the shaky ones that threatened to take their place. "We just thought it would be better for business, rebranding to something more gentlemanly and all."

Mumbo nodded, "Ah, that makes sense. Though I still don't understand how you managed to work with them to begin with. I likely wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. I mean business partners with the Vex? Friends, even? How'd you do it? Not to mention why? With all due respect, what makes one seek that out?"

Scar blinked hard at the influx of questions, "Oh, it's- it's really complicated, you might not understand. Cub started it, though. I joined the team not long after, but I wasn't there when he first struck the deal with Them."

"Huh, some deal," Mumbo remarked thoughtfully, and Scar nodded.

He had no idea.

"So what made you leave that behind?" Mumbo continued.

"What?" he asked, finding his thoughts hazy. They were static nothingness, but somehow also crashing into his skull. He found himself having to dig his way through them, while at the same time trying to bury them once he passed. The last thing Scar wanted was to do was hark back to the Vex, to beckon forth Their memory with his own.

The other man simply chuckled, oblivious to Scar's inner turmoil. "ConCorp, the Vex. Did you two just get bored? Having done the same thing for too long?"

"In a sense, you could definitely say we were tired of it. It just- well, it wasn't what we wanted to do anymore. We wanted to move on to new things."

"That's fair enough. Do you blokes still get along? Or did they take the corporation's end like a sour breakup?"

This time, Scar couldn't contain his wince. "We're still friends!" he insisted, "Of course the Vex are my friends."

Mumbo finally quirked a brow, "Are you sure about that? You don't have to worry about hiding some burnt corporal bridges from me, I'm not here to judge."

"Oh yeah, I'm positive," he nodded eagerly, "I'm just- I'm gonna go work on fixing that contraption I damaged, best to get it fixed before we have to switch back."

"Buddy, are you sure everything's alright? I'm sorry if I upset you or anything."

"Nah, I'm just peachy!" Scar announced with far too much false enthusiasm, internally cringing at his failed masking abilities. Not allowing any more time for his ruse to be cracked, he uttered a quick goodbye before adjusting the straps on his elytra and dashing off, leaping into the air and back towards the ruins.

"Scar, wait!" Mumbo tried, but he was already gone.

------

The returning flight was far from the peaceful journey he'd made to the excitation site. His artificial wings beat frantically, struggling to keep up as he charged forward with excessive firepower. He paid no mind to the safety protocol regarding the rocket's cool-down period, simply heralding through the air as fast as his elytra would carry him. Scar arrived back to the monument in a trip overall much faster than when he'd left, but it seemed to drag on for an eternity. The entire excursion consisted of a battle with his own mind-- a war in which he knew he was bound to lose, but he had to hold down the fort until he was on solid ground.

Scar was lucky not to crash into the debris upon landing, frantically stumbling to the dirt and having to grasp onto a piece of wreckage to maintain his balance. His legs nearly buckled under his weight, form trembling in spite of the deep breaths he gave it his all to draw in.

He grasped hard to the rubble, trying to anchor his brain into focus. He couldn't let his thoughts spiral, he couldn't think about Them. He knew grounding techniques, and he tried to rush his way through them.

Five things you can see.

He could see the golden heart, plants, stone, the golden heart again-- the thing was too anatomically correct, he'd seen horrors too similar to it before. And the sound, it was too damn loud, too hard to ignore. Its unsteady rhythm hammering in his ears alongside his own faltering pulse.

Forget visuals, four different noises?

Scar squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to listen, focusing hard on the world around him. Still, he could only hear the heart. He could only hear it pounding, its once melodic notes like nails on a chalkboard. He could remember far too many times when he was left alone with nothing but his heartbeat and his pleas.

Tactile. Texture. What can you feel? Three things you can feel.

Internally, he screamed at his dulling senses to return. God, he didn't want to think about Them, it wasn't worth the risk. They'd been inside his head before, and the mere idea of having his thoughts broadcasted again made his stomach churn. Scar tried harder and harder to suppress the images bubbling to the surface, festering like maggots in an old wound. The more he tried to push them down, however, the fiercer they'd rise back up, and he choked down a sob in attempt to list the sensations he could currently identify.

He could feel the stone-- but he already said the stone, didn't he? He could also feel the sun. It was hot against his back. So hot. He was overheating.

The notes should have been a success, but the drops of sweat felt too akin to tricking blood. The sting of his hands felt too much like the friction burn of a rope. It felt too much like he was back with the Vex again, and as he finally sunk to the soil, he could no longer swim against the onslaught of memories crashing over him like a tidal wave.

They could still hear him, They could still hear him, They could still hear him, They could still get him--

------

The day he and Cub first found the courage to try and cut ties with the Vex had been a hellish one, and the two men weren't even successful in their attempt. Hence, of course, it being the first.

Still, it had taken ages for Scar to persuade Cub that it was even worth trying, the other man having believed it was impossible to sneak anything past the Vex on their own. Scar was persistent, however, and eventually convinced his friend they had a shot if they played their cards right, if they made the right proposal without their intentions being discovered.

They'd constructed their plans in secret for weeks; discussing them only inside of untold locations with hushed whispers, or in the form of coded scrawls they'd burn immediately after reading. They couldn't be too careful, that's what they'd tell themselves whenever they worried their precautionary measures may be over the top. Even so, when a so-called conference was put on the schedule --such events were far from any type of cordial meeting, despite having been assigned the title of one-- the men were hardly prepared for it.

Their conference room consisted of a needlessly grandiose suite, with floors of marble and walls carved from deep umber wood. The polished lumber was adorned with expensive paintings in aureate frames; antique laden shelves taking up the spaces they did not. Aesthetically pleasing decorative tactics were discarded in favour of showing off their riches in a possessive cluster, with the only average items being the table and its chairs sat in the dead center of the area. A chandelier of gemstone and gold swung from above, dangling by the same chains fated to one day bind their vassals.

"Concordats, greetings!" A Vex declared as the men were led through the doorway, hovering in the air at the opposing end of the surface.

"Greetings," parroted Cub minimally, Scar giving a plain nod beside him. Fewer words meant less chance at letting their guard down.

"We've been needing to speak with you," a different Vex chimed.

"Speak with you about the business," yet another visitant confirmed.

"We actually need to discuss similar matters with you all," Scar noted, voice and expression a façade of tranquility.

"You do?" the first asked, wide smile replaced with inquiry.

"Yes," managed Cub, "we want to make you an offer, one you can't refuse."

"I do like the sound of that!" the second snickered.

"We'll hear your offer," the Vex grinned, "we only have one question first!"

"Of course, what is it?" asked Scar, in mental awe of how well their exchange was going.

"Do you recognize these?" it asked, gesturing towards the white table where a blue light flashed, fading away to reveal a small pile of ash.

Cub and Scar glanced to one another in evident confusion, the latter of the two speaking once again, "Forgive me, but we're not sure what you're talking about."

"Oh, silly me!" the Vex giggled, another flash of luminesce encompassing the soot and leaving a stack of papers in its place. As if caught in a controlled gust, they blew from the surface and organized themselves midair; levitating in a cloud of magic.

All of their once burnt notes were lined up before them, cyphers needed to crack their messages included.

Still beaming with innocence, it continued, "How about now? Look familiar?"

The blood drained from their faces, and Scar could have sworn his heart was going to burst from his chest with how hard it was drumming. He wanted to wake up, because this had to be a nightmare.

"No, we have no idea what those are," he tried.

LAIR!

Overlapping voices screamed in his head, all sounding in haunting unison. Scar hastily clapped his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to silence the uproar emanating from within.

You try to break our contract then lie to our faces?

Foolish concordats.

Terrible secret keepers, terrible subjects.

Cub seized hold of Scar's arm and made a break for the door with the brunet in tow, reaching the exit and tugging desperately on the handles. They refused to turn under his grasp, and his eyes darted back towards the Vex; floating creatures growing ever closer to their imaginary bubble providing them with the illusion of safety.

More of Them were phasing in through walls, forms non-corporeal and having no need for the sealed entryway.

Apologize.

They all ordered, Scar flinching at the simultaneous projection. He lowered his hands and turned towards Them, watching Their unmoving grins with wide eyes.

Kneel before your gods and divulge your prayers, we may just show you mercy.

"I'm sorry-" Scar whimpered, but Cub was having none of it.

"No!" the man barked, "Screw this! This isn't worth it! None of this is worth it! He's right! The business, the money, the power, it-- it means nothing! Not when you treat us like this!"

They watched him step forward, his furious yells echoing through the expanse of the room, "We're done! And we mean it! You're going to get us go or else!"

An orchestra of shrill cackles filled the air.

Oooh, it's angry.

They're fighting back!

Teach them a lesson.

"You won't dare make another-" Cub's retaliation was cut short with a cry, the bearded man dropping to the ground in a swift crash.

"Cub!" Scar called, but his attempt to step towards his friend was met only with a searing pain through his legs and the subsequent buckling of his knees. He fell to the marble, limbs heavy as if they'd been weighted. It took considerable force to balance on his arms, appendages left shaking as he peered back up towards the Vex.

He regretted it instantly.

•••

(Part two)

[number-one-micoverse-fan]

Everybody Knows That Dom Has Depression Except For Dom

It’s what it says on the tin, fellas.

----------

“And I have a couple of pre-made meals for you too!” Miranda heaves a giant refrigerated bag onto the table, beaming at Dom as she rips open the velcro and starts pulling out stacks of tupperware containers.

“Pre-made…?” Dom ventures, watching with growing wonderment as the stack of containers continues to grow. That bag must be bigger on the inside.

“Yeah, meals that are already cooked up and ready to go,” Miranda explains, finally setting the bag aside and walking around to open the fridge. There’s plenty of room inside for the castle of tupperware, “So you can just pull one out, stick it in the microwave, and you’re all set! It’ll be great for those days when you’re too tired or worked too late to make something.”

Dom blinks, considers, makes a soft noise of agreement. He absently hands containers to Miranda as she fills his refrigerator. He’s trying to figure out why someone would spend this much time on him. The only conclusion he manages to come to is that he definitely needs to find a way to pay Miranda back for her generosity.

He doesn’t deserve this kind of attention.

*******

“I—I’m so sorry about this!” Dom is scurrying around the house in the pre-dawn gloom, lit only by the sodium yellow burn of the streetlights through the window and the dim light over the kitchen sink. He’s flustered and tired, his tie undone around his neck, his shirt half tucked in, and his hair a mess.

“It’s fine,” Jake is hovering in the doorway to Dom’s kitchen, his hands wrapped around a thermos of of coffee. His expression is sympathetic, if a little strained, “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know, I know,” Dom says in a stag whisper, struggling to do up his tie and tuck in his shirt at the same time, harried and fretting and continuously glancing towards the stairs to the second floor of the house, “B-but it’s just—it’s so early and—“

“I was already up anyway.”

“—you have Milo—“

“Dan’s still at the house for him.”

“—this meeting was so last minute—“

“Employers can be jerks.”

“—but Cody—“

“Dom.”

“—I didn’t want him to wake up alone—“

“Dom!” Jake snatches at Dominic’s shoulder, stopping the other man in his tracks. Dom’s eyes are wide and worried, heavy with exhaustion and stress. Jake gives his best comforting smile, changing his grip to a gentle pat,

“It’s okay. Honestly. I’m happy to help. You’re a—a friend. And you’d do the same for Milo, yeah?”

Dom swallows, takes a deep breath and smooths the front of his shirt down, “Yeah. Of course. Thanks Jake.”

“Anytime.”

*********

Cody flops onto the couch next to his dad and offers him a bowl of popcorn.

Dom takes it hesitantly, his brow furrowed, “I thought you were going to spend time with Milo…”

“He needs to do homework,” Cody says, settling into his spot. The light from the television reflects off his glasses, “And I wanna hang out with my cool dad!” He beams up at his dad, honest happiness on his face, “What’re we watchin’?”

“O-oh, um…” The hollowed out cavern in Dom’s chest is suddenly flooding with warmth and it makes a wobbly smile spread slowly across his face, “I…I dunno, actually, I just…had the TV on. Was there something you wanted to watch?”

“Mmmm, not really. Maybe we should channel surf until we find something good!”

“Okay…”

Dom flips through some channels rather absently, asking Cody about his day, about homework, about the MiCo channel. Cody happily rambles at him about everything and Dom listens, questions, smiles until his smile can’t get any bigger. He’s not really paying attention to the television, watching Cody talk and gesture animatedly about his latest attempt at catching proof of ghosts. The teen is lit up, literally and figuratively, glowing in the blue-white of the screen, smile flashing in the shadows, hands directing his words, a conductor of his own story.

“—so the audio should be finished by—ooh! Wait go back! Go back!”

The remote almost falls out of Dom’s hands as he fumbles to change the channel again. The sports cast flickers to something softer; a crowd of people milling about or standing in lines in a large indoor area. There are tables and booths set up in the background, but the foreground is dominated by a table at which sit a middle-aged woman and an older man in a tweed jacket. On the table between them is an intricately designed lamp with a garish shade made of bright glass and brass swirls. The man in the tweed jacket is indicating areas of the lamp with a pen and talking about the authenticity of the item in a low rumble of a voice.

“The…Antique Roadshow?” Dom questions, glancing at Cody.

“Yeah! It’s kind of cool to see what historical stuff shows up and to learn the history of it,” Cody says, “Also, sometimes, me and Milo would play this game where we would guess if something is haunted or not and then try and decide what kinda ghost is doing the haunting. He gets bored of it real quick though.”

“Hm…” Dom looks back at the—frankly hideous—lamp on the screen, “Well, uh, I don’t know a lot about ghosts but…if there was a ghost haunting that thing, it would probably be someone really annoying with no taste.”

Cody laughs, ��I think I would feel bad for anyone who was stuck haunting that! It’s ugly!”

Dom finds himself chuckling along with him, “A, uh, I think the word is…ostentatious?”

They both laugh.

They’re still laughing an hour or so later, when the popcorn bowls are empty and it’s gone dark outside. Cody has tucked himself against Dom’s side, Dom’s arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

The cold, bitter hole that had been chewing him up on the inside is long gone. It’s nothing but tenderness and warmth and little rays of sunshine. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Dom knows it will come back. But it’s gone, for now. And he’s warm.

He’s happy.

*********

“Ah! Here! Lemme help with that!” A burly arm sweeps out of nowhere and scoops some of grocery bags from Dom’s struggling grip. Most of the grocery bags, really.

“Thanks…” Dom breathes, sending an uneven smile up at Dan, “Sorry about the trouble…”

“Not trouble at all!” Dan’s own smile is wide and bright and honest, his stride confident and comfortable as he follows Dom to the front door, “I was just coming home and you looked like you needed some help. And it never hurts to help.”

Dom only hums in response, holding open the door to let Dan sidle past and set the groceries down in the kitchen. The house is quiet—Cody’s out, probably getting into trouble with Milo—and Dom feels selfish for enjoying the peace of it. He’s exhausted, drained, his entire body feels heavy and his thoughts are muddy. He sinks into a chair at the kitchen table and rubs his eyes. He still has to put away the groceries and make some dinner and he should probably shower and maybe he should fold those clean clothes he hasn’t touched in a week and when’s the last time he vacuumed and—

“Long day?” Dan’s voice cuts through the deluge of thoughts threatening to drown him. Dom sighs into his hands, can only nod in response because even talking feels like it would take too much energy, “Sorry you had a rough day, buddy. But, hey, lookit that! You still went and bought groceries and you’re home now! So you can relax, just a for a bit. Take a breather, Dom, you look like you need it.”

His fingers tangle in his hair as Dom raises his head to explain that while he appreciates Dan’s advice, he really doesn’t have time to sit about and daydream. But he finds himself struck a bit speechless because Dan has put all the groceries away while Dom’s just been sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself. It doesn’t shock him that Dan knows where everything goes, just that Dan would even take the time to do it. Dom could have done it, he’d just needed a minute.

Dan’s still smiling as he folds up the paper bags and stows them in the pantry, “Oh yeah, almost forgot—would you and Cody like to join us for dinner tonight?” He straightens up, hands on his hips, a life preserver to a man floundering in a sea of responsibilities and fears, “I’m making lasagna and I always make way too much of it. And it’s been a while since we’ve had dinner together.”

The relief that makes the burdens of the day slough off his shoulders makes Dom feel like he could float away. It buzzes in his chest, louder than the nasty little voice that says he’s lazy or that he’s taking advantage of Dan’s good nature.

“Thanks, I…I’d like that…”

********

Miranda hands him a small stack of thick, hardcover books. They’re a little banged up and well loved, the spines soft and their corner dented, but they’re well cared for all the same. Dom cycles through them—there’s four of them and all of them are about woodworking of various degrees. He glances up at her, half from confusion and half from wondering if she’s trying to say something.

She’s twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, something he recognizes as a bit of a nervous habit, a twinge of uncertainty, “A coworker had a bunch of old books they were getting rid of. Brought in a couple of milk crates worth of them. I know you like working with your hands and—and building stuff, that kind of thing. So I thought I’d…snag them for you.” Her face is a delicate shade of pink and she keeps glancing at him from under her lashes.

Dom looks from her to the books. He opens the top book to a random page, skims a description of re-scaling an existing design to make a miniature version of it. He might have gotten caught up in it completely if he hadn’t been hyper away of Miranda standing in front of him.

He lets the book fall closed and smiles at her. That pleasantly warm feeling is curling in his chest again, pooling wonderfully in his stomach until his cheeks flush,

“These are—they’re awesome. Wonderful, Mira. I love them. Thank you.”

Miranda’s smiles explodes and she throws her arms around him. Her lips touch the corner of his mouth and Dom feels soda bubbles burst inside him like fireworks.

*********

Something a little like frustrated panic clutches tightly at Dom’s throat when he hears a knock on the front door.

It still feels like its on the verge of choking him when he opens the door and finds Milo standing there with a folder clutched to his chest.

“Hi, um, I know Cody’s sick but I brought his homework from school so if he feels kinda better sometime he won’t get behind in class.” Milo is unusually subdued, no doubt missing his usual partner in crime and as equally worried about Cody as Dom is.

“Thank you, Milo, that’s very kind of you.” Dom runs a hand through his hair, realizes it’s shaking and quickly takes the offered folder from Milo before the teenager can notice.

Milo rocks back on his heels, glances from Dom to the house behind him and then back to Dom, “Um. Dom—um—Mister Bridges—uh, I know—um. That is, uh…” He fidgets, fumbles, wrinkling his nose as he searches for the right words and Dom is more than prepared to tell him that no, he cannot see Cody, Jake would hang him for it if he did, when Milo blurts out,

“Do you need help with anything?”

“You ca—I…I’m sorry, what?”

Milo’s ears are red, “I, uh, d-do you need any help? With anything?” He’s tugging absently on his hoodie strings, self conscious and still rocking back and forth on his heels, “You’re probably—well I know—um. Shoot. Y-you’re taking care of Cody so I wanted…to ask…if there’s was anything…you needed help with…”

Dom hesitates, wants to tell Milo to just go home because he’s a teenager and he’s been in school all day and he deserves to enjoy his youth. But Milo’s expression is so earnest and he certainly looks like he’s been worrying and fretting all day. Dom wants to think that maybe Jake or Dan put him up to this but Milo’s still got his school bag slung over his shoulder which means he hasn’t even been home himself yet. Dom can’t fight the soft and gentle smile that appears on his face,

“Go ask your dads if they’re okay with it first. Then maybe you can help me tackle these dishes, okay?”

Milo brightens instantly, “Okay!” And he scurries off to burst into the house next door.

To be honest, Dom doesn’t expect him to come back. But he does, full of energy and ready to go. He’s a bit infectious and soon Dom finds himself caught up in the whirlwind that is Milo Junior. Dom spends his time flitting up and down the stairs between Cody’s room and the kitchen and by the time he’s gotten some food in his son and coaxed him to go back to sleep, Milo has washed and put away all the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Shhh! Don’t tell Jake I know how to load a dishwasher!” Milo hisses in a loud whisper as he shoves Dom’s dishwasher closed with a clunk, “I’ve been doing it bad on purpose so he stopped asking me!”

Dom laughs. It feels bright and hot and brilliant inside him, spilling liquid honey up his throat,

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

********

Miranda’s humming something, her fingers carding lazily through Dom’s hair. Her other hand is draped over his chest, their fingers woven together, puzzle pieces that click together perfectly. Dom’s free hand is resting at the base of his throat, his thumb idly rubbing against the edge of the top button on his shirt. He has his head on her lap, his eyes heavy and lidded and unfocused. In this moment, he simply is. He is safe and comfortable and the warm gentleness of the whole thing has him floating on a delicate cloud of candy floss and downy feathers, lethargically sinking into a hot bath of love, attention, and affection.

More out of habit than anything else, Dom glances at the clock on the television stand. It takes his tired brain a moment to process the time, but once it does, he jolts into alertness,

“Dinner! We—we gotta get ready if we’re gonna make it!”

He goes to get up, already dreading the notion of being out in public where people can see him and judge him and make their assumptions, where he has to communicate with those who don’t understand him, where out there will never be as safe as in here. It makes his stomach clench and his appetite sink rapidly into a tar pit of nausea.

“Wait.”

Miranda presses a hand to his shoulder, steers him to lay back down in her lap. Dom holds her wrist, brow furrowed,

“Mira, our dinner…”

“Let’s just…stay in.” She says in a low voice, leaning over him. Her golden hair frames her face in the lamplight, curtaining them both off from the rest of the world, “We can order some pizza or something, I don’t mind. I’d like it to just…be you and me.” She leans closer and the heat rises in Dom’s face, “Just the two of us,” She’s a breath away and Dom can smell peppermint and lilacs and just a hint of that clean, slightly chemical scent that follows a doctor everywhere,

“Together.”

If they kiss, no one would be able to see it past the golden cascades of Miranda’s hair.

Her hand stays in Dom’s and he forgets about how relieved he is that they’re staying home because he’s too busy falling in love with her all over again.

********

Cody sets a glass of water down in front of Dom, smiles when Dom looks up at him with a question on his face.

“I was getting one for myself so I got one for you too,” Cody says with a shrug, “You looked thirsty!”

It’s not until Dom takes a drink that he realizes how parched he is.

It also strikes him that he hasn’t gotten up from the table in several hours. His joints pop and groan in protest when he stands up.

The numbers and words on the bills in front of him were blurring into obscurity anyway. He’s going to check on what Cody’s up to instead.

The bills are long forgotten as he spends the rest of the day watching his son play video games, simply enjoying the enthusiastic company.

********

Dom pushes his safety glasses to the top of his head and gives up starring at the miter saw with a heavy sigh. He’s not going to be getting anything done today.

He wanders to the front of his garage and sinks down onto the pile of lumber by the open door facing the street, peeling his work gloves off his hands and dropping them onto the wood beside him. He feels heavy, like something’s pushing down on him, crushing him slowly into the dirt. All the plans he’d made for the day feel pointless and empty.

He feels pointless and empty.

And stupid.

He’s staring an infinite black hole into the pavement between his peeling sneakers when someone’s approaching footsteps make him raise his head. It feels like lifting a thousand ton weight.

Jake is standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his slim jeans, his button up open to show a faded band t-shirt underneath. His expression is carefully blank but he’s chewing on his bottom lip in a manner that suggests there’s a thousand thoughts going through his head.

“Hi,” Says Dom and his voice sounds flat and lifeless and it makes his throat close up.

“Hey,” Jake nods, shifts his weight awkwardly, “Mind if I, uh, take a seat?”

Dom pats the lumber next to him and Jake eases down, glancing at the wood as if checking for splinters. His hands leave his pockets and his fingers get tangled in each other, twisting in and out and over as he fidgets. Dom can see the movement out of the corner of his eye but it’s much easier to keep staring at the sun bleached pavement.

“Thought I would have heard your power tools going by now.” Jake says in a somewhat forced conversational manner. Dom shrugs, makes a noncommittal noise. Jake sighs, takes a deep breath, lets it out again, finally says in a stern voice,

“Dom. You have depression.”

That startles him out of his stupor enough to turn and look at Jake, “What? What, no. I don’t.”

Jake frowns, not in disappointment, in something like solidarity and determination, “Yes, you do.”

“No, I—“

“Dominic, I literally have depression. I know what I’m talking about.” When Dom opens his mouth to protest further, Jake cuts him off,

“You feel tired almost all the time, even when you’ve gotten enough sleep. Sometimes you don’t sleep at all and sometimes that’s all you do. You either eat too much or you don’t eat at all or you eat just enough to keep going, even when you feel nauseous at the idea of food. You get frustrated with yourself because you can’t do what you want, you feel like you never have enough energy, and you blame everything on yourself.” Jake’s talking faster now, words spilling out, a floodgate of awful truths and buried thoughts cascading out in an awful tidal wave that’s black as pitch, “You feel like everything is your fault and nothing will ever be okay ever again and you’re going to be stuck in this hellish tar pit for the rest of your life! Because there isn’t anything better! There’s nothing outside the tar pit and you’d rather let yourself sink to the bottom and drown there than try to struggle anymore because you’re tried and you’re hurt and no one can ever understand how hard it is to live like this! And even though you hate yourself for giving up you just can’t do it anymore!”

The words break off into a ringing silence.

Jake is trembling slightly, shivering in the summer heat, because it feels so damn cold all of a sudden. His eyes are bright and hard but there are tears clinging to the corners and his jaw in clenched and his gaze pins Dom to the spot with accusation and something like desperation. And maybe not a hint of fear. Dom wants to look away, to shake his head, to tell Jake he’s got it wrong. But, god, he can’t.

Not when Jake’s dropped his guard like this.

To his eternal shame, Dom’s eyes get hot and his lower lip trembles. He drops his face into his hands with a muffled curse, trying to push it all back down, trying to bury it all back where it belongs deep inside him where it can’t bother anyone else.

“Dom, please…” Jake’s hand is on his shoulder, squeezing, grounding, reassuring, “I’ve…I didn’t want to say anything, I really didn’t because—I know it’s such a hard thing—personal. And I wouldn’t have said—I would have left this alone if I thought you were…” He trails off, steels himself, takes a shaky breath,

“Cody came to talk to me.”

Dom looks up at him, can’t decide if he’s horrified or in despair or hurt. Jake looks apologetic, his expression crinkling up and his hands shaking, holding himself steady despite the lingering threads of fear tugging at him to run from the situation.

“Cody?” Dom croaks, hates that he sounds so damaged, hates that it’s another thing to prove Jake right, “Is he—“

“Cody’s fine, this was a while ago.” Jake’s gaze darts away, comes back, drops to his knees, looks up at Dom again, “I just…wasn’t sure how to approach you about it.” A weird, slightly manic and cynical chuckle rattles out of his lungs, “I guess now’s a good a time as any.” Seriousness falls back into place, a door clicking shut but the key still in the lock,

“He approached me because…because he knows you’re hurting. Dom, he came up to me and he was trying hard not to cry and he told me “I think my dad’s sick and he won’t get help”.”

Dom thinks his heart shatters into a million pieces when he hears those words. His shaking hands fist into the front of his paint-stained shirt and he makes a choked off noise that desperately wants to be a sob, but Dom refuses to let it be.

Jake expression is desperate, begging, pleading for Dom to understand, “He knows something’s wrong and he wants to know how to help you. I know this probably isn’t something you want to hear, that it’s—it’s such an impossible thing to try and process but, Dom, he’s just a kid and he knows that you’re not doing okay.”

And Dominic Bridges finally breaks.

Right there, on a pile of lumber in his garage, talking to his neighbor, he puts his face in his hands and he cries.

Because he knows Jake is right.

And it kills him.

********

“It’s okay, I’ll be right out here for you,” Miranda says quietly, squeezing Dominic’s hand in her own, “I’m really proud of you for doing this.”

Dom is shaking in his seat, his leg bouncing insistently, cold sweat sticking to the back of his shirt. His mouth is dry and every time he swallows that just seems to make it worse. He feels like his voice is stuck somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes and he wants so badly to trample it as he runs out the building.

But there’s a fee for canceling appointments after 24 hours and Miranda has taken the time to come with him and she’d be so disappointed and—

—and Dom actually wants to try.

So when the therapist steps into the waiting room and calls his name, he takes a deep breath and stands up. His legs are jelly and he thinks he might pass out and some part of him is screaming that this is a waste of his time and money and he shouldn’t be here. But when he glances over his shoulder at Miranda before he walks through the door, she gives him a huge smile and makes a little heart with her hands.

And Dom thinks that maybe, just this one time, he can try and do something for himself for a change.

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 13 | Nerves & New York City | 9.7k words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

a/n: here it isssss, thanks for being patient with me y’all. hope you enjoy 💕 

Sequins & Zippers Masterlist

General Masterlist

Don’t forget that reblogs help writers out a ton !!! 

love y’all, mean it. 

“Aren’t you warm in those corduroy pants?” Aurora asks Harry as he comes over to take a swig of water from the bottle she has sitting on the seat next to her. 

“Trying to get me to take off my trousers, love?” Harry quips back as he untwists the cap. 

“You’re annoying, you know that right?” She says before she adjusts the leg of her old worn out jean shorts and brings the straw of her iced coffee to her lips. “But seriously, I’m just sitting out here and I’m warm, how can you not be in those pants?” 

“I’m fine Ror, really.” 

“Whatever you say,” she singsongs, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. 

The sun is shining bright in the almost cloudless sky. Harry is playing catch with Mitch and Adam and a few crewmembers jump in and out of the game as the morning turns into afternoon. Harry was excited to be back at Hersheypark Stadium and the seasoned crewmembers were too, with it being the only outdoor stadium in the entire tour. 

Aurora has never loved the heat much, though. Between the inevitable sunburn she always gets no matter how diligent she is with applying sunscreen and the chaffing of her thighs from shorts that always end up riding up while she walks, she finds it hard to focus on how the sun feels on her skin. She finds it even harder whilst just watching Harry run around in those lilac corduroy pants. She doesn't find it hard to watch as his t-shirt pulls from where it’s trying to stay tucked into the waistband, his laurel tattoos peaking out every so often when he reaches up to catch the baseball. She hides her lingering gaze behind her sunglasses and her smirk around the straw of her coffee. 

Aurora’s phone ringing pulls her out of her stupor and she shakes her head as she watches Harry run off to catch the stray ball that’s flying through the air. 

“Hi mom!” Aurora answers her phone. 

“Hi Honey, how are you?” 

“I’m good, we’re in Philly right now, trying to enjoy the sun and beautiful day as much as we can before getting to work.” 

“Good, you shouldn’t be working too hard anyways.” She can tell her mom is smiling through her voice. “I was just calling to confirm our plans and such for NYC.” 

“Oh yeah of course! I’m so excited to see you and dad!” 

“We’re way more excited to see you, trust me,” her mom laughs.

“Yeah so, we should get to NYC on the 19th and we can get into our airbnb around 1pm.” 

“Ror, are you sure you want us to stay with you? We can just travel back and forth or get our own hotel room.” 

“No mom, I asked to get an Airbnb so we could stay together. Haven’t seen ya in since March, I wanna spend time with you!” 

“Well, what about Harry?”

“He'll probably stay with us, if that’s alright. He’s got a handful of stuff to take care of while we’re in the city, a few meetings and friends to see, but he’s coming to dinner with us on the 20th. Wants to do the whole official meet the parents thing,” Aurora explains and her mom can definitely hear by the tone of her voice that she said it with an eyeroll. “Then I thought we could go back to the airbnb and play games or watch a movie, just a normal family night. I think Harry would like to be a part of that.” 

“Why do you say it like that?” 

Aurora pauses before she answers. “Just think he’d like to have a relaxing night, something more normal than ordering room service or a business meeting, some real family time.” Aurora looks up from the chipped polish on her fingers and meets Harry's eyes across the open aisle of seats. They mirror each other's smiles. “2 nights at MSG are a big deal. I-I, I just know how he gets and I don’t want him to stress too much or be alone the night before.”

“We can do dinner a different night,” her mom suggests

“No, no, he’s the one who asked to do it that night in the first place.” 

“Oh okay, dinner and games night it is.” 

“Great, and then the next day is MSG night 1 and I thought I’d show you around the arena and what that's kinda like. They’ll be food at the arena but you can go out for dinner if you want. You’re still planning to leave the next morning, yeah? You can stay for the 2nd night if you want, I have spare tickets.” 

“Okay sounds good. No, go ahead and give those tickets to someone else. Your dad and I have to get back, he has to leave for a conference later that day,” her mother responds before going on about the different places her and Aurora’s dad have planned to go to. Even though they live fairly close to the city, they don’t go as often as they would like and have a list of their favourite places they always have to stop by. Aurora knows she’ll definitely be tagging along to the Fabric District with her mom as some point too. 

Aurora entertains her mother on the phone for a bit longer before she starts to notice crew members getting back to work, Mitch and Adam retreating to the air conditioned trailers and then Harry coming to sit next to her, finishing off his water. 

“Mom, I gotta,” she starts as Harry presses a kiss to her head, “I gotta go. Gotta get to work.” A kiss to the back of her ear. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” A kiss to the vein in her neck causes her shoulder to rise to her ear. “Love you, mom. Bye!” A kiss to the base of her neck, near her collarbone. “You’re annoying,” Aurora barely says before Harry kisses her square on the lips. She giggles when he pulls away and stands up, grabbing her hands and pulling her with him. 

“Come on, I’ve gotta train and you should get out of the sun.” Aurora looks at him with a questioning look. “You’re getting a little pink,” he says sweetly as he presses his finger to her shoulder and they watch as the spot turns white and then to a bright pink. 

“Oh great,” she says. 

Harry laughs lightly and wraps his arm around her shoulders lightly as they walk towards the side of the empty stage and back towards the trailers. 

The sunset surrounds the entire stadium, a baby pink and orange glow creates the most beautiful lighting and only adds to the overall energy of the audience. Aurora can’t help but gaze at Harry and watch him watch the crowds that have come out to see him. He’s left his mint green suit jacket in his dressing room and rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt. The lens of his sunglasses glow golden as he adjusts them on the bridge of his nose. A familiar intro of a song starts and Aurora walks over to stand next to him. 

“Ya know,” Aurora starts, knocking her hip against Harry’s, “if I weren't standing here next to you, I’d definitely be in the audience at one of these shows, singing along to ‘Olivia’ at the top of my lungs with a drink in my hand.” 

Harry tosses an arm over her shoulder as he continues to look into the audience from the makeshift backstage area. He sets his red solo cup down on top of one of the large black crates. “Would you now?” 

“Sure would.” Harry tightens his arm around Aurora’s shoulder and tucks her in closer to him. 

It’s not until they head back into his trailer to get his suit jacket that he teases her more about it and kisses her to make up for it. 

“Why’s it that I’m wearing a pastel suit but the jacket you’re wearing is black?” 

Aurora looks down at her clothes. High waisted jean shorts, a cream silk tank that’s tucked in and a less conspicuous suit jacket. Harry’s black suit jacket to be specific. She had taken the black Gucci jacket with her to take to the dry cleaners after the Ft Lauderdale show and it hadn’t made it back to the wardrobe cases yet. 

“Well you only have one mint green suit and you need it tonight, so I thought I’d borrow this one instead.” Harry hums, a smirk quirking up one side of his mouth. He takes the lapels of his jacket and opens up the right side to take a look at the label sewn in. ‘Gucci’ is embroidered into the patch and underneath is Harry’s name. He hums again, a full smile flashing at Aurora now. 

“You’ve always enjoyed seeing your name on me,” Aurora barely whispers. Harry’s hands move from his grip on the jacket to sneaking around Aurora’s waist underneath said jacket. His lips fall to her neck and the sounds of the crowd wash away for a moment. She giggles from the featherlight touch. 

There’s a knock on the door. Without a doubt it’s the stage manager needing Harry to get his mic hooked up. Harry groans and drops his head to her shoulder. 

“Come on,” Aurora starts, “you’ve got a show to do.” She pulls his head from her shoulder and adjusts his jacket one last time before pushing him out of the trailer. 

Aurora watches the show from near the edge of the floor, leaning against one of the cement barriers. She pulls the jacket around her tighter as the night breeze comes through. Aurora’s heart swells when Harry picks a little girl out of the audience from in front of him at the B Stage. 

“Do you have things in your ears? You’re very small,” Harry asks, accent thick. The crowd echoes in ‘aws’ and Aurora can’t help but smile. “Are you okay?” He asks next, accent still thick but voice pitched up an octave. “Having a good time? Good.” 

He sings ‘Sweet Creature’ and Aurora can’t help but think about how he might react with her little cousins or maybe the kids of his friends. Then she thinks about how she might get to witness that and has to stop herself from letting her mind run totally free and reaching the idea of what a family of their own would look like years down the road. 

| | | | | 

The doorbell rings as a text comes through Aurora’s phone. Her parents are here. She looks at Harry, whose nerves are written on his face and it could be from a number of reasons. Aurora caresses his face for a moment, meeting his eyes and then kisses him softly before the doorbell rings again. 

“Relax, it’ll be okay,” she tries to ease. 

“Easy for you to say.” 

“Now you know exactly how I felt when I met your mom,” she trails off as she reaches for the door. 

“Rory!!” her mother exclaims as she walks through the now open door. Her mother tosses her bag on the bench in the small walkway and hugs Aurora tightly. 

“Hi mom,” Aurora says, voice muffled against her shoulder. 

“Aurora!” her father greets her next, waiting for his wife to let go of their daughter so he can greet her properly. 

Aurora’s mom pulls away and goes straight to introduce herself to Harry. She hears the interaction while she hugs her dad. 

“Harry, dear, so happy to finally meet you!” 

“Pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Del Gatto.” 

When Aurora pulls away from her dad she introduces him to Harry and they exchange a handshake. Aurora doesn’t miss the tough face her dad tries to put on and Harry’s nervous smile. 

Harry’s phone rings and he reaches in his pocket to turn it off quickly after glancing at the caller ID. Aurora knows it’s Jeff. It’s always Jeff. 

“Harry actually has to head to some meetings,” Aurora says. 

“I’m really sorry and hate to leave but my manager tries to get in as many meetings when I get a day in a major city, especially in New York,” Harry explains. 

“No worries at all, dear,” Aurora’s mom eases. 

“I’m all clear for dinner tomorrow night and hopefully can join you beforehand,” Harry says as he grabs his bag from the couch in the living room only a few feet from where they’re standing. Harry reaches for Aurora’s mother and kisses her on the cheek, “Lovely to meet you. And you, sir,” Harry nods at Aurora’s father. Harry turns to Aurora who is still standing near the door. 

“Have a good afternoon of meetings. Just text me if anything changes, yeah?” 

Harry nods before kissing her lightly, his free hand squeezing her hip. When he pulls away from Aurora he takes a moment to look at her and then tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear. 

“Love ya,” he rushes out when he’s halfway out the door and Aurora blushes before saying it back. 

| | | | | 

- Meeting #3238734823 done. How’s your day so far? - 

- hahaha how many more to go? Mom and I dragged Dad to the fabric district so I’m doing great-

- hm about a million more to go, it feels like. Haha wish I was with you. - 

- Harry, if you were here I would be making you choose fabric to make you a new suit. - 

- wait, can we make that happen even though i’m not there?” - 

- uhm, DONE.- 

- done deal. Okay, heading into meeting #3238734824. I’ll call you when I’m heading your way. -

“Is that Harry?” Aurora’s mom asks as she tries to peak over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, he was just between meetings.” 

“Doesn’t seem like he gets much time off.” 

“Well, not so much right now, I guess. Being in the city makes it a perfect time for them to get some stuff out of the way. He normally actually has days off. Anytime it’s not a show day he gets to do whatever he pleases.” 

“Whatever he pleases?” she asks accusingly. 

“Mom…” Aurora groans. “I know it’s your job as a mom to be skeptical but please have an open mind.” Aurora’s mom purses her lips. “He’s good. Really good. And by ‘Whatever he pleases’ I mean he gets to make his own plan and decision and luckily for me, most of the time it’s something with the 2 of us, or we hang out with his band or the crew.” Aurora sighs, now. “I get that his life is totally different, but you gotta be open minded, Mom, please. He’s trying so hard and you purposefully trying to find things that are wrong won’t help you or us.” 

“You’re really serious about him, aren’t you?” Aurora nods sheepishly. Her mom can read her daughter almost too well and she realises she hasn’t taken the time to do so enough now that they’re together, in person, right now. The thought of her baby, her youngest, traveling the world with a boy, who is a stranger to her (no matter how famous he is), is terrifying to her as a mother, but she sees that she needs to get past that. “I’m sorry, I promise not to jump down his throat. I can see how important this is for you both.” 

“I really don’t want to add anymore stress to him and he so badly wants you to like him but if you’re going to pick him apart, I can’t put him through dinner.”

“Rory, honey, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be this way. I seriously promise not to add to his stress.” 

Aurora sighs, for what feels like the millionth time in the past 5 minutes. “Thank you. I just want so badly for you to like him.” 

“If he makes you happy, really truly happy, then I trust you and will love him.” 

Aurora drops the basket in her hand and wraps her arms around her mother in a hug. A final sigh from Aurora’s mouth and it’s the last bit of worry that leaves her chest. The familiar scent of her mother’s clothes is comforting and she realises in this moment how much she missed her. 

“Mom,” Aurora says as she hugs her mom tighter, “I’m really happy you’re here. I missed you a lot.” 

“Aw honey,” her mother replies, pulling out of the hug. She takes Aurora’s face in her hands, “I missed you, too. Come on now, let's finish up here, shouldn’t make your dad wait too long.”

| | | | |

“Harry, sweetie, family dinner typically means no phones at the table.” Aurora’s mom explains after Harry pulls his phone out of his pocket for a 2nd time. 

“Mom-” 

“No, your mom is right,” Harry cuts Aurora off. “I’m sorry, I’m turning it off now.” 

“If there’s something you need to take care of first, you can,” her mother offers when she sees the rosy colour blush on her daughter’s cheeks. 

“No, there’s nothing important right now.”

“Har, everything okay?” Aurora asks when she sees his finger hover over the ‘slide to power off’ screen. 

“Yeah, yeah, just a lot of texts coming through about tomorrow.” With that one sentence, Aurora knows what’s happening. She reaches her hand to hold onto his wrist closest to her and gives it a squeeze. 

“Moms know what’s best I guess, right?” And Harry laughs at that, the whole table erupts in laughter. 

The laughter dies down as their waiter brings their food to the table. Once everyone is busy with their meal, Aurora turns to Harry. “You okay?” she asks, voice almost at a whisper. 

He nods, “Yeah, I’m alright. Probably should’ve turned my phone off earlier anyways. Everyone is trying to see me or come to the show.” 

“Everyone you want to be there is already on the list and if they want to come that bad they’ll find a ticket. Honestly, they should have already bought a ticket.” 

“Ror, be nice.” 

“I am! Just saying it how it is,” Aurora retorts with a small shrug. 

Harry leans over the short distance between them and presses a kiss to Aurora’s temple. With a blush ghosting onto her cheeks, they go back to their entrees in front of them. 

“So, what’re your plans after the tour is over?” Aurora’s dad asks Harry. 

“Uhm,” Harry stutters, looking towards Aurora briefly before back to her father, “I haven’t given it too much of a concrete thought yet, I suppose.” 

“Nothing work wise planned?” 

“No, I try to take time off between projects. I definitely think I’ll need some time before I get back to the studio and think about recording another album. There’s been whispers of other projects and things, but I’ve been focusing on this tour and I’ll have a look at what might come next after I take a break.” 

“That sounds like a smart idea,” Aurora’s dad agrees. 

“Speaking of plans come the end of the tour, honey,” Aurora’s mom turns her head towards her, “what have you been thinking of doing?” 

“Oh there might be something in the works but nothing is for sure yet,” she says, pushing her fork around on her plate haphazardly. 

“Rory,” Harry chastises, “don’t down play it like that. It’s for sure and you know it. You should tell them the news.” 

Aurora peels her eyes from her plate and looks at Harry then to her parents. Their eyes are eager. She sighs as Harry reaches his hand under the table to squeeze at Aurora's thigh. 

“Uh, so Harry Lambert called the other day when we were in Boston and he offered me a full time, permanent job.” 

“Rory! That’s so exciting!” her dad exclaims. 

“Wow! Yes! So you’ll be Harry’s stylist? Permanently?” Her mom begins with the questions. Aurora was unsure of how to tell her parents this new opportunity, traveling and moving is always a hard topic for her mom and add in the possible judgement and concern, Aurora couldn’t figure out an easy way to share the news. .

“Well that’s part of it, yeah, but it’s so much more than that. Lambert has his own styling business so I’m working with him on that.” 

“So you’ll be moving back to London?” Her mom asks, a frown appearing on her face.

“Actually, no. I’ll be his point of contact, here in New York City. I’ll travel when needed for things, like to London or LA, especially for Harry’s stuff as he gets back to work later on in 2019 but I’ll live here and do a lot of shoots and jobs here to help Lambert as he keeps expanding and so he can stay in London more and take care of business there.” 

“Whew, I thought you had fallen in love, gotten a new job and were about to leave for London permanently,” her mom shares and Aurora’s shoulders tense. 

“Mom…” Aurora groans, almost a little upset that that is what her mom is choosing to focus on rather than the job she’s officially landed. 

“Aurora, we are so excited for you,” her dad adds, knowing exactly how this conversation is going. “Aren't we, dear?” He encourages his wife. 

“Oh of course, yes! But you can’t blame a mom for being worried about you moving so far away.” 

“It’s fine,” Aurora brushes it off, shoulders tense still. Harry squeezes her knee under the table, reminding her he’s right there with her. She knows her mom is happy for her but she can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt every time her mother comments about her moving. A permanent residence in New York City, she thought would have sufficed, but her mom can’t overlook the idea of all her kids leaving home and moving away when it was her who encouraged them to do so in the first place. 

Harry takes it upon himself to change the topic and begins to ask Aurora’s dad about his work. Aurora quietly finishes her food as Harry charms himself into the position of her dad's new best friend. They bond over old records and Harry can’t help but ask him about the few times he saw Fleetwood Mac in concert. Aurora and her mom simultaneously roll their eyes when he begins the family famous story of his first ever concert. Harry is engulfed in the conversation but there are only spare seconds that he’s not engaged with Aurora in some way. A hand on her knee, sometimes a squeeze to her thigh, his arm resting on the back of her seat and then moving to her shoulders when their empty plates are taken away. 

Harry and Aurora’s mom playfully fight over who gets to pay the bill and Harry compromises with the idea of picking up wine (beer for him and Aurora’s dad) and dessert on the way back to the airbnb. Aurora’s mom smiles to herself when she signs the bill and puts her credit card away. Aurora can tell she’s happy and actually enjoying the evening even through some of the rocky bits. 

“Why don’t we meet you back at the apartment?” Aurora suggests to her parents, looking for some way to get some sort of moment alone with Harry. “We’ll grab dessert and drinks while y’all get comfy and pick a game.” 

Aurora’s parents agree to the plan and Aurora knows they’ll talk about Harry all the way back and Aurora’s mom definitely makes some sort of ‘All Knowing’ face, surely catching on to the idea of a moment alone, an evening walk alone with the city lights. 

Harry isn’t one to shy away from a kiss or two but he hasn’t been able to properly kiss Rory in what feels like way too long. Under a street lamp, Aurora’s parents far down the block behind them walking in the opposite direction, he pulls her to a halt. He tucks some stray hair behind her ears as a small smile quirks up on his lips. Aurora mirrors it in a split second. Harry cradles Aurora’s head in his hands and finally kisses her the way he’s wanted to since he saw her rush up to him in front of the restaurant earlier this evening. His hands fall to her waist and the almost silky cotton is soft and he remembers noticing the pearl white trim on the neckline. It’s a dress he hasn’t seen, a dress Aurora had been saving. Aurora melts under him and she releases her weight into him. Harry’s hands don’t seem to stop moving for the few minutes they kiss under the flickering street lamp. When they pull away from each other Harry runs a feather light finger tip over the pearl white trim, starting at Aurora’s shoulder. Even in the New York summer heat, goosebumps follow his path. Aurora’s hands rest on the back of Harry’s neck and her thumbs play with the curls that grow longer and longer day by day. Harry kisses her forehead, sighs and then pulls her into his chest, his arms wrapping all the way around her waist. Harry hides his face into Aurora’s hair as a group walks past them and squeezes Aurora tighter. 

“Everything alright?” she asks him. 

“Yeah, missed you today,” he whispers. “Did I do okay?” 

Aurora pulls away from him so she can get a look at his face. “Okay? Are you talking about dinner?” He nods. “Babe, you were great.” 

“I’m sorry for making you tell them about your new job.” Aurora shakes her head. “I didn’t know you were worried about telling them. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“No, I’m glad you did. Made it easier with you there. My mom’s just always been so tough to share that excitement with. She gets over it eventually, she did with college, with my internship, with tour. The initial reaction is just hard cause she doesn’t go straight to being excited.” 

They start walking down the street again and Harry reaches for Aurora’s hand and she gladly takes his. Harry’s quiet for a moment but Aurora pays no mind to it. 

“I don’t know if it helps at all, but I’m proud of you. Incredibly excited for you,” he says when they turn a corner. Aurora spots the italian bakery lit up at the end of the block. Harry kisses the top of her head and the smile on her face grows. 

“Thank you,” she replies and squeezes his hand. “Know you’re only excited cause this means I’ll still be working with you.” 

“Hmm… definitely part of it,” he laughs, “But even if you had to work in some random city, with something nothing to do with me, I’d still be proud and excited for you. Always will be, no matter what.” 

Aurora stops dead in her tracks and pulls him in for a kiss. “I love you a whole fucking lot, did you know that?” 

“Had a feeling,” he whispers around a smile, his dimples deep. “Come on, I’ve got a craving for chocolate cake.” 

When they let themselves into the apartment, Aurora’s parents have changed into some more comfortable clothes and are sitting in the living room, setting up a game of Monopoly.  Once Harry and Aurora have changed as well and Harry has poured everyone a drink and cut the chocolate cake he was craving, they settle on the floor in the living room. 

2 glasses of wine and a slice of cake later, Aurora is most definitely winning the game of Monopoly and Harry is horribly losing and has had to ‘borrow’ from the bank a handful of times. Aurora’s not sure if it’s the wine and chocolate or if it really is the ease of the evening that is making her so undeniably happy. Harry laughs along with the teasing from Aurora’s dad and happily refills her mother’s wine glass. He seems relaxed and worry free right now and Aurora’s thankful for that. Tomorrow will come and it’ll be a different story, but right now she takes this in. This moment in an unfamiliar apartment, with 3 of the people she loves most in the world. Harry steals a few glances every now and then, his hand lingers on her back or thigh every so often and Aurora plays with his grown out curls when she slides closer to him on the floor. 

“Aurora, I should’ve brought your monopoly game from home!” Aurora’s mom says. 

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion because, here they are, playing monopoly but he can’t ask what’s so special about the one back home because Aurora quickly shoots a look at Harry before she gives her mother a look that could most definitely kill. 

“Mom! Please don’t,” she pleads before she’s laughing. 

“It would’ve been funny!” 

“Oh what? Just like how you thought me bringing my One Direction posters on tour would be funny?” 

“Dare I ask?” Harry adds in. 

“Aurora made-”

“Mom!” 

Harry wraps his arms around Aurora’s waist, “Rory, you shouldn’t interrupt your mother. Quite rude isn’t it?” he jokes. 

“Aurora made a monopoly game for a class project one year and it was One Direction themed,” her mother shares. 

Aurora groans before dropping her head into Harry’s chest, hiding her blush. 

“Oh, did she now?” he teases. 

Aurora knows she won’t hear the end of this for days, but she endures the teasing with a smile on her face and it's most definitely not because of the wine but because she is laughing with Harry and her mom and her dad. She needed tonight, they all did. 

| | | | |

When they get to MSG, Harry shows Helene an old photo that he’s found on instagram. Fans had been tagging and tweeting it to him all morning and he smiles at the memory of it. He wants to recreate the photo, a way to keep a record of his journey. Helene loves the idea and tells Harry to meet her in the empty audience in 15 minutes. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go get the wardrobe ready,” Aurora says about 10 minutes later. 

“Oh, you’re not coming with?” Harry asks, trying to hide his disappointment. 

Aurora tilts her head at him and she recognizes the look on his face. She saw it last when they were at the O2 in London, weeks ago. “I can come with, if you want?” 

“I don’t want to put you behind schedule.” 

“Don’t have much of a schedule and it’s still early. Come on let’s go find Helene!” She reaches for his hand and pulls him down the hall with her. “Everything alright?”

“Mhm, you know you keep me calm,” he says quickly, like it’s something everyone knows. Aurora brings his hand up to her face and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

Aurora recognized the photo when Harry showed it to her this morning and now she laughs along with Harry and Helene as they try to get the perfect photo. Harry has a red bandana tied around his head, controlling his bed head and Aurora looks from the photo from 2012 to the sight in front of her. The cowlick at the crown of his head is exactly the same but the difference in the width of his shoulders is something Aurora can’t get over. Even in the baggy black t-shirt she can see the way his back muscles contract when he moves his arms and the way his waist tapers into his hips. 

It feels like they take forever taking the photo once Aurora is only focusing on Harry’s back and then the difference between his bare arms to his now tanned, tattoo covered muscles. She sighs and pinches her bottom lip between her thumb and pointer finger. 

“Ror!” Harry practically yells, both him and Helene laughing. 

“Sorry what?” she says getting pulled out of her thoughts. 

Harry gives her a look and Helene says something about needing to be somewhere and photos that need editing. “Where’d ya go just then?” Harry asks. 

“No where, just thinking.” 

“I know that look…” Harry drags on. “Come on.” 

Harry pulls her up from the chair and pulls her along.

And that's how they end up giggling on the couch in Harry’s dressing room. Harry’s hovering over Aurora, the kissing has halted for a moment. 

“Ror, how did this even happen?” Harry asks between giggles. 

“They’re YOUR fancy Gucci pillows that caused the problem!” 

Harry’s hands work at the strands of Aurora’s hair that have gotten caught around the beads that cover the pillow. She whines when it pulls slightly but can’t help but continue to laugh at the situation. 

Finally, she’s free from the pillow and Harry tosses it to the floor. His smile is the last thing she sees before he’s kissing her again. His hips drop to hers and she can’t help but give in to the feeling and pull him in closer to her. Her hands sneak under his t-shirt and up his back. 

Harry’s phone rings but they ignore it.

Then Aurora’s does too and they ignore that as well, until it rings non stop. 

Harry groans, “you should probably get that.” Harry pulls away and sits back on his feet, knees still on either side of Aurora’s hips. He reaches towards the table and grabs her phone. He passes it to her below him and she rolls her eyes. 

“It’s my mom, they’re probably here,” she groans. Harry grins, his dimple sinking deep. 

Harry shifts slightly which causes Aurora to groan but for an entirely different reason. Harry laughs lightly and pulls down the tank she’s wearing as he was the one to push it up to get his hands on her skin in the first place. Aurora closes her eyes for a second to collect herself. Harry moves off of her and looks at his phone and rolls his eyes. 

“More people coming out of the woodworks?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, elbows resting on his knees. Aurora rubs his back soothingly and presses her lips to his neck. 

“I was gonna give my parents a tour and show ‘em everything, but I can push it back if you want me to?” Aurora offers.

“No, go spend time with them. I need to workout anyways and sound check is earlier than normal. You can bring them to soundcheck if you want!” Harry sighs, “I’ll be okay.” 

“Yeah I’ll bring ‘em round.”

“You’re coming to the preshow thing Jeff set up right?” 

“Mhm,” Aurora hums, “and I’ll have your suit ready before then so we can just change you into it right before Kacey starts. Sound alright?” 

“Okay, good. Yeah, that works,” he rushes out and his shoulders drop heavily. 

“Hey, promise you’re good right now? You can come with, if you want.” 

“Yes, I’m good, thank you,” he says, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Boxing will help for sure, always does.” 

Aurora takes his head in her hands, tucking some messy curls back in place, surveying his eyes quickly before she leans in to kiss him softly. 

The navy blue bandana tied around his neck makes Aurora smile as he moves around the room with a red solo cup in his hand. Everyone else in the room has booze in their cups but no one pays any attention to the fact that Harry has ice water in his. The room is loud and Aurora doesn’t love the chaos of it all so she focuses on Harry. He smiles at her from across the room when he sees a glimpse of her behind the head of whoever he’s talking to. She gave her parents the full tour of backstage and let them see a glimpse of what her life looks like lately. They left to get dinner before coming back for the show and Aurora’s glad to be able to be there for Harry for the night without distractions. 

Aurora mingles with a few people she’s met before, but always keeping an eye on Harry. She’s star struck a handful of times as she watches Anna Wintour come and go, Zach Braff hang out near the bar, and Rob Sheffield chat with Helene. Even with the starstruck moments, Aurora has fun with what is easily deemed as her tour family. A few times, Harry meanders over to her and drags her along to introduce her to someone new. Repeatedly he refers to her as “his Aurora” and everytime Aurora blushes which earns her a kiss to the cheek or a squeeze to her hand or hip. In turn, she tugs on the bandana around his neck a few times.   

As the crowd in the small room thins out, Harry takes it upon himself to make a spectacle of checking his watch and pulling Aurora out of the room with him, shouting about how it takes time to look good and that he hopes everyone enjoys the show. 

“You know, that first night in Basel, I recognized your nerves the second they hit you,” Aurora begins as she watches Harry button up his black shirt. He turns around to face her, the long fabric hanging from the collar reminiscent of that first night she helped him get ready. “You got really quiet, really fast,” she continues as she starts to loop the fabric into a bow, “and even though in the end I helped, I was panicking inside. It was the first night, I barely knew you, I was just trying to do my job, but then,” she sighs when she’s happy with the look of the bow, “then I realised, in that exact moment, that maybe I had more to offer for you, that calming your nerves, minutes before you got on stage in front of thousands of people, was something I could help with.” Aurora grabs the cream Gucci jacket from the hanger. “Something I knew about, something we could level on.” 

After Harry slides both arms into his jacket he turns around to Aurora. “I wasn’t used to having someone there with me, to help me, no one really ever noticed when I got nervous.” 

“I hope you know that I’ll always be there, be here, for you,” she adds as she buttons his jacket closed. “I think, that was the moment, even though I didn’t really figure it out till now, that you were more than just this big rockstar that sauntered around the stage in his custom Gucci wardrobe to me, that there was something more there.” 

Harry huffs as his hands rub up and down Aurora’s arms. There’s a sparkle in his eye that was there a second ago, a sparkle that turns into a welled up tear in his waterline. He blinks it away. He smiles at her and Aurora carefully pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to mess with his hair or the perfectly steamed suit. 

“You good?” 

“Always good when you’re around,” Harry says, his voice soft as it gets lost in Aurora’s hair. 

The hallways to the stage entrance are loud and the energy hasn’t changed all day. Everyone is excited and their shouting their “good luck’s” and “break a leg’s” at Harry as he passes by. Aurora follows behind him and his band with Helene by her side. Mitch wraps his arm around Sarah’s waist and Helene snaps the moment. Everyone’s buzzing but Aurora keeps an eye on Harry a few feet in front of her. Harry holds open one of the double doors that has a sign that says “Stage Entrance” taped on it. Helene walks through last before Harry takes Aurora’s hand and ushers her in before he walks through too, the door shutting quietly behind them. 

His band finds their place on stage and Helene heads to the audience. Harry squeezes Aurora’s hand one last time and then kisses her temple as the opening track begins. 

“Just be careful in those flares, they’re a tripping hazard,” Aurora yells, with a laugh, up to Harry as he takes the metal steps 2 at a time. 

Aurora doesn’t waste any time getting to the audience and finding her parents in the mix at the back of the pit. She gives them both a quick hug just as Alex’s voice comes over the speakers. 

Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find? 

When the screen rises and Harry begins to come into view, gasps fill the pit along with screams as the giant flares come into view. Aurora doesn’t miss the chest heightening breath Harry takes before letting out a shaky breath through pursed lips, his shoulders dropping back to their relaxed height. The second the crash of Only Angel hits, Harry’s totally and completely carefree. Aurora turns to see her parents' reaction from their spot next to her. The surprise in their eyes in the abrupt change in music makes Aurora laugh. The surprise turns to amazement when the entire audience is singing along. 

When Harry makes his way back to the mainstage after Sweet Creature, Aurora’s mom turns to her. “I understood why you loved him before, but now I really understand.” It makes Aurora giggle and blush a bit. 

| | | | |

Aurora’s sitting in the empty audience, 3 rows behind the pit, her sneaker clad feet resting on the chair in front of her. She’s tired, exhausted. Between her parents being in the city, a handful of random friends trying to see her, Harry’s friends and family everywhere, a secretly nervous Harry, and a job to do, she’s managing a lot right now. But right now, in this moment and for the next few minutes she gets to sit, drink her iced latte and not care that she’s wearing her last clean pair of leggings and one of Harry’s random t-shirts. She’s got nowhere to be, no one to entertain, no job to do. 

A newly familiar intro begins and Aurora can’t help but laugh a little at Harry in his tall white socks, Adidas sneakers, black workout shorts and his rainbow TPWK tshirt. She’s used to seeing Harry dressed like this, but not while he’s on a stage, while he’s singing and playing his guitar, his vocals echoing more than normal through the empty arena. It’s barely 10am and Harry and Kacey’s voices aren’t where they will be when they perform this special duet later tonight, but Aurora enjoys moments like this. They sing through the chorus a handful of times, making a few harmony changes and in between each run, Adam’s kids cheer from the floor right in front of the stage. 

Aurora can see the dark circles under Harry’s eyes from where she’s sitting but doubt anyone else notices them. She helped him manage his nerves leading up to last night’s show and his solo debut on the MSG stage went off without a hitch but a wave of emotions took over once they had both left the arena. Aurora could tell something was off with Harry. Once they closed the door to their bedroom for their time in New York, Harry sunk to the bed, his arm over his face. His chest heaved quickly before a slow, shaky breath was released. 

“Hey,” Aurora said softly, sitting down on the mattress next to him. She reached for the arm covering his face. “You okay?” she asks, confused. He had been totally fine all evening, no sign of anything bothering him, no disappointment from the night, nothing. She’s caught off guard. 

“Not really sure why this is happening,” he says, his voice shaky. Aurora lets her hand rest against his chest, her thumb moving softly back and forth in a soothing manner. She can see his face now, but his eyes stay closed. She watches tears build up on his eyelashes, but gives him a moment and doesn’t say anything. Harry eventually lets out a heavy breath through his nose, his hands take the one that is resting on his chest. He brings her hand to his face and kisses her palm softly. “Just a lot happened today, I guess,” he says in the end. 

“You guess?” Aurora says in disbelief. “A lot did happen today and you can come down and react to it in any way you need.” Harry hums, lets go of her hand and reaches out to her. 

“Will you lay here with me for a second?” He asks in a soft voice. 

“Whatever you need,” Aurora responds as she lays down next to him and fits herself into his side. “I’m proud of you.”

“Please, Ror,” Harry whispers. 

“No, I’m gonna tell you. I’m proud of you. Tonight was incredible. You should be proud of yourself.” 

“I am.” 

“Good.” 

And even though he was happy and proud of himself he still continued to let tears fall from his eyes. Exhaustion from the nerves, the empty place in his heart where Robin lived because he kept dwelling on the idea of him being in the audience to see what he did, the toll touring in general takes on his body, the added stress of Aurora’s parents. Aurora whispered about the amazing moments during the show and repeatedly told him how much she loved him as she ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually fell asleep. 

So the dark circles are there for a reason and nobody else notices or needs to know why. Harry wanted one last rehearsal with Kacey before sound check later and wanted to be able to relax (as best as he could) for the majority of the day. And relaxing and having fun is what he had on the agenda for the afternoon. A few more cups of coffee and he would be ready for the official Harry Styles World Tour Table Tournament. When they walked into MSG the tables were already being set up, official leaderboards being hung on rolling whiteboards and a shiny, engraved trophy on display nearby. 

Aurora is off the leaderboard faster than the competition even started. She doesn’t even make it far enough to play against Harry. He’s a pro at this point. Table Tennis is a weird niche tour sport Aurora thinks. Harry loves it, plays it everyday, almost and Aurora teases him about him being the best because it’s the only thing he’s done as consistently as touring and performing. 8 years of table tennis under his belt has leant him the skills. She thinks he shouldn’t be allowed to compete today. Even 4 months of touring for Aurora and she can’t get the hang of it, so she watches from the side, laughs with the group and watches the dark circles disappear from under Harry’s eyes. 

With no surprise, Harry wins the tourney. Literally no one in all of New York City is surprised but they still cheer for him when he scores his winning point and then everyone is crowding around him, giving him high fives and slaps on the back -- there isn’t a single trace of a dark circle under his eyes now. Aurora knows that for a fact when she gets a good look at him up close when he picks her up off the ground in a hug while still cheering.

A few hours later Aurora is standing in her usual spot in the dressing room with the steamer heating up nearby and the large wardrobe case open in front of her. She smiles when she reaches for tonight's suit. A turquoise version of the golden Calvin Klein suit he wore back in Australia. 

“You coming out with us, tonight?” Harry asks Aurora from where he’s sitting in Ayae’s chair as she messes with his hair. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Aurora questions back, confused. 

“Well, ya used to decline my invites all the time,” Harry says matter of factly. 

“That was before and anyways when was the last time I turned you down?” 

“Harry, leave the poor girl alone,” Ayae pipes in. “She already deals with you enough as it is.” 

Aurora and Ayae laugh together as Harry whines about being teased. Aurora’s thankful for the ease of the evening, the disappearance of Harry��s nerves and exhaustion. Aurora’s parents are gone and though it was an easy few days for the most part, there’s still a wash of relief over the couple. 

Once Ayae is done with Harry she wishes him good luck and then goes to find Mitch and Adam. 

“So you’re coming with tonight?” 

“Harry, of course I am,” Aurora says with a roll of her eyes. “Gotta celebrate, right?” 

Harry just smiles and kisses the top of Aurora’s cheek before he takes his trousers from her hand. Aurora takes the now well known and iconic TPWK tank (just as she predicted) from the hanger and passes it to Harry. And then, just like every night of tour, she holds his jacket by the collar and Harry turns his back to her and slides one arm, then the other, into the sleeves. Aurora pulls as the shoulder seams, making sure they’re sitting just right before he turns around to face her. His eyes don’t leave her face as she makes a few minute adjustments to the collar before she buttons it close. Aurora doesn’t drop her hands right away, she takes a moment, the familiar spot comfortable and Harry takes the opportunity to rest his forehead against hers. A small moment between just the 2 of them calms the recurring nerves in Harry’s chest. Harry pulls away after a moment, a squeeze to Aurora’s hip before he does. No words are needed but miles upon miles of thoughts are shared between them in that moment. Aurora gives him a smile as he disappears into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Aurora slips out of her sneakers and pulls her heels out of her bag. Final night of MSG feels like the perfect occasion to dress up a bit more. She touches up her red lipstick before Harry’s back. He stops in his tracks in the door as if he didn’t notice her fully just minutes ago when she was helping him into his suit. 

“Wow,” he says now “Ror.” He shakes his head and then walks over to her. He plays with the flimsy fabric at the hem of her tank, then his hands grip at her waist. His calloused fingertips find the skin at the top of her black jeans, underneath the tank and he rubs small circles at the plushy skin of her waist. “You look really pretty, Rory,” he almost whispers. 

And just like any moment they have before a show, they’re interrupted by someone calling Harry’s name from the hallway. They groan in unison. 

“Where are you gonna watch from?” 

“You’ll have to find me.” 

Harry finds her in the audience with ease and his signature smirk appears when he does at the beginning of Ever Since New York. It's at this moment Aurora thinks about the importance of New York. 

I’ve been praying, ever since New York

This song had been written before they had met, about something totally unrelated but New York holds this cloud of memories, some strong enough that he had to put into a song, a song he plays every single night. This week will be added to the cloud of memories in New York and with Aurora moving back to the city come the end of tour, she’s sure they’ll create more here too. 

The audience erupts in screams when Harry brings out Kacey to sing with him. “You’re Still The One” begins and Aurora remembers the first time she ever heard this song. Too little to remember it all perfectly but she still remembers her mom singing it in the kitchen while baking cookies and little Aurora being entranced by the music, her mother carefree, hair tied up in a bun while she sang it to Aurora. 

When Harry played the short list of songs he was considering, Aurora put her vote on this track and Kacey loved it just as much. Now, as the song plays and Kacey sings along with Harry, the majority of the audience is singing along too. Harry can’t help but smile from time to time and it sparkles like Kacey’s rainbow dress. 

At another point in the show, Harry makes a scene in front of his band and shows off his Table Tennis tourney trophy. 

There are moments like this sprinkled throughout the show. Harry fully carefree, enjoying his time and the audience equally having the time of their lives. 

During Medicine, his mic cord gets caught but it doesn’t take away from the impeccable performance of the unreleased song, it only adds to it. 

As he walks down the alley between the pits, he collects handfuls of bouquets on his way to the B stage. Harry finds Aurora quickly, a huge smile on his face and then tosses the bouquets at her in the mix. 

Aurora doesn’t miss the shakiness of his voice during Sweet Creature and from her spot in the mix, she can see him perfectly. His head tilts up to the 300 level seats during the instrumental and he takes in a short breath before blowing out a breath through pursed lips, trying to hold back tears. It’s the sight in front of him, the emotion of the song, the reminder that he’s performing for the 2nd night for a sold out MSG that gets to him. 

Harry answers a fan’s question at one point, about what his favourite Britney Spears song is. Toxic, of course. And Aurora laughs as the audience erupts in a chant of “Sing It!” to which Harry responds, without surprise to Aurora, a simple, “no.” 

The energy in the room is something she’ll never be able to describe in a million years. There’s never a lull, never a dip, never once anything Harry does receive less than an ear deafening scream. 

The ground shakes during “Kiwi” and Harry makes the crowd scream the New York line back to him. It’s a moment where the entire audience has one goal and they achieve it, following through with Harry’s request to let go and be whoever they want to be. 

The energy doesn’t stop when he leaves the stage. The ringing is louder than normal in Aurora’s ears but she doesn’t care and the red lipped smile on her face stretches from ear to ear. Harry doesn’t care about the lingering print of red lipstick on his face when Aurora kisses his check the second he pulls her into a hug. He keeps her close while people come up to congratulate him & rave over the show. 

They make it to his dressing room almost an hour later & Harry collapses to the couch right away. Aurora sits down next to him & Harry pulls her in close to him. He doesn’t take long to get his lips on hers, but there isn’t an urgency in the kisses. The kisses are slow & deep & almost pondering like he isn’t sure where he wants this to go right now. 

Aurora takes it upon herself to start pushing his jacket off his shoulders to get her hands on more of his skin. It doesn’t go much further. The kisses slow down to a stop & they just sit there for a moment, both knowing that if they don’t actually stop now they will run into someone interrupting them. 

They go through the post show routine as usual. Harry’s sweaty suit gets hung up to dry & Harry jumps into the shower while Aurora puts everything away. She praises him over & over about different parts of the show as he messes with his wet curls & changes into clean clothes. A blush repeatedly rises to his checks & he resorts to getting her to stop fawning over his show by kissing her against the dressing room door. 

“Come ‘ere, Angel,” Harry says as he offers an open arm to her, “need my girl by my side at all times.” He’s got one hip popped out slightly and a hand on his pool stick. 

“Was getting you another drink, rockstar,” She says as she hands him a fresh Old Fashion, his drink of choice for the evening. Harry presses a kiss to the top of Aurora’s head as he takes the glass from her hand. 

The game of pool has been put on pause as one of Harry’s friends reads Rob Sheffield's Rolling Stones article about MSG night 1 as loud as he can. There’s hoots and hollers every so often from the group they’re with in reaction to some of the comments Rob has written. 

That’s confidence. That’s cheek. That’s arrogance. That’s a rockstar.

Bowie-glam raunchfest Kiwi.

His generous spirit was contagious all night. Shine on, you crazy diamond. 

Harry doesn’t let Rory leave his side most of the night. He even takes the opportunity to show her how to properly use the pool stick in the most cliché romcom way. Aurora doesn’t shy away though, she only encourages it more every time. 

They seem to be sharing every single feeling tonight, warmth, excitement, release of stress, love, & they can’t get enough of each other. 

It’s nearly 3am when Harry’s twirling Aurora around in circles in the almost empty basement of the bar. The group has thinned out but neither of them are paying much attention to what’s happening around them. Aurora’s cheeks hurt from the sheer length of time she’s been smiling at Harry. His tortoise rimmed reading glasses seem to appear out of nowhere & his dimples haven’t gone away in hours. As Aurora adjusts her grip on Harry’s shoulders & the small bit of sweat through the rainbow Kacey Musgraves T-shirt he’s wearing doesn’t bother her. 

One last turn in the middle of the open floor has Aurora dizzy & stumbling over her feet & then Harry’s. Harry grips at Aurora’s waist a bit tighter as he steadies her. He lands a sloppy kiss on her lips before guiding both of them to sit at the nearby booth. Aurora swings her legs onto Harry’s lap with the only goal to get closer to Harry in mind.

In this small basement of a bar in New York, with his Rory all over him, Harry is sure that this is where he’s supposed to be.

comments & feedback ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS welcome & appreciated !!!

[shadow-assassin-blix]

Something Like This

Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes!Hades x OC!Persephone

A/N: So... this is an OC story but also I made it kind of xReader by not using any descriptors. Hints to sexy times but nothing descriptive... that’s for later.  Moodboard I created, I made a post crediting where I got the images can be found here. Moodboard for other Gods/Goddesses can be found here. 

Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the comments!

Persephone was tired. She was tired of her mother’s constant nagging, her hovering, her need to try and control her life.

She had marched out of her mother’s home, marching down the street, not caring that it was late at night. She made her way blindly through the city not really paying attention to where she was going.

After about 15 minutes she stopped, staring around trying to figure out where her feet led her. She didn’t recognize anything… except. Wait. She squinted as she spotted a neon sign in the distance. She walked closer to read it: White Wolf.

The name sounded familiar, but she wasn’t quite sure why. She stepped inside, tugging her jacket closer to her as the wind blew a harsh chill down her spine.

It was a bar with dark and gothic styled interior design. She bit her lip softly, trying to figure out what she wanted to do when she spotted a friend sitting at one of tables near the small dance floor. She realized as she moved forward why the name was familiar; it was her friend’s favorite haunt.

“Hecate, hey,” She greeted as she stood near the table.

“Oh my. Miss Persephone, what brings you to the house of sin? Mommy dearest will have a conniption if she found out you were here,” Hecate teased offering her a seat.

“Mommy dearest will just have to deal then. I swear I am one argument away from never talking to her again. I am a grown woman, and she treats me like a toddler,” Persephone grumbled as she gratefully took the shot that Hecate handed to her.

They toasted and downed them in one go. Persephone quietly looked around as she bobbed her head to the music playing. Her eyes eventually locked onto a set of startling blue ones that made her blink in surprise. Her eyes washed over the handsome face that came with such a vivid blue, and she smiled bashfully when she noticed the smirk and the wink he threw her way.

She broke her gaze away, returning her attention to Hecate who stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” Persephone asked, silently begging for her to not bring it up.

“Nothing. So, what did your mom do this time?” She changed the subject.

“Tried to take away hours from the flower shop away from me all because a guy flirted with me,” Persephone explained with a roll of her eyes.

“The flower shop that you run all by yourself and is hers in name only? She really tried to pull that away from you? Surprised you didn’t turn her into a weed,” Hecate snickered.

Persephone went to answer when she felt someone step up beside her. She looked up and saw it was the handsome man. He smiled at the two of them but turned his gaze to focus on her.

“Would you like to dance?” He asked, his voice deep and slightly raspy, holding his hand out for her to take.

“Only if you introduce yourself properly,” She replied watching him lick his lips for a moment.

“Hades. Though… friends call me Bucky, and you?” He introduced with a small bow.

“Persephone… friends call me Blix. Or even just Percy for short,” She responded back with a small smile.

“Well… Lady Persephone… may I have this dance?” He asked again.

She slowly stood up, taking his hand as she did so, and letting him lead her out onto the dance floor. The song was slow, so the two of them settled their hands around each other- hers around his neck, and his on her waist- swaying softly together.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Hades asked as they danced.

Persephone looked up at him, slightly confused, “Have we met before?”

“Yes, we have. Granted, it was a millennia ago, so I don’t blame you for not remembering,” He hinted at staring down at her with a half-smile.

She looked at him closely and suddenly she remembered.

“The night of the summer solstice. You came out to the garden to hideaway from the party,” She recalled with a growing smile.

Flashback

Persephone had been forced to join her mother at the annual summer solstice celebration. She never enjoyed being in large crowds so as soon as she could, she slipped away to the gardens. She found a small hidden pathway that she could hide out in.

She took a seat on the grass, watching as the grass grew a brighter green and wildflowers formed around her. Whenever she was in magical planes, her powers activated whenever she was in nature. Her pathway to this hideaway was marked with flowers blooming brightly as she passed by.

She sighed softly, deciding to spend some time creating new flowers and new color variants. She held her hands out forming a ball of soft light, a white rose appearing. She was trying to decide what color to turn it when she heard a twig snap near her.

She looked up to see a tall man staring at her in awe.

“Sorry. I did not mean to frighten you. Was just… trying to escape the party… something I feel you were doing as well?” He softly questioned taking a small step forward.

She smiled shyly, nodding her head, she offered, “Would you like to join me?”

He smiled, taking a seat next to her. She watched with curious eyes as the grass died around him and her flowers tried to desperately grow all around them.

“How curious? Never seen that before,” She muttered tilting her head as she watched their combined magics almost play together.

“Hm. Sorry, I appear to be killing your work,” He said with a frown.

“Don’t apologize. Plants are meant to grow and flourish before eventually dying. My mother finds it horrifying when it happens but isn’t that what life is? A cycle,” She replied gazing into his eyes, finding herself getting lost in them.

“Indeed. So… may I ask what you were doing before I interrupted?” He asked her, looking at her hands that were resting her lap.

“I create flowers and new variants of colors. Colors give them new meanings. My mother and… certain other virgin goddesses like white too much. I just want to create something that has more meaning,” She explained as she re-summoned the white rose.

“Aphrodite has requested something in pink, stating she wants something that represents love but… pink doesn’t… quite fit the description she wanted,” She stated as she stared at the flower.

The man before her hummed softly in response.

“Red. Red is passionate. Would that work better?” He suggested.

She looked at him for a second before blowing softly onto the flower, turning it red. She smiled at it, pleased with how it turned out. She waved her hand out to the garden around her, watching the red roses flourish all around them. She quickly created the pink roses as well sending them out as well.

With her powers, it didn’t matter where she was at, if she created a flower and grew it, the flowers would appear on the mortal plane. The meaning of them would also randomly appear when a human cast their eyes upon them.

She turned her attention back to the handsome god before her who had plucked a pink rose and despite the fact that it was slowly dying in his hands, he gently placed it behind her ear. His hand brushed softly against her cheek as he pulled away.

She smiled brightly as she felt her powers bring it back to life.

Before she could say anything, she heard her mother calling for her.

She sighed disappointed, “I have to go… but thank you for this.”

She started to stand but stopped. She leaned over and kissed his cheek quickly, before standing up and rushing off.

End Flashback

“I always wondered if I was going to see you again. I endured several more parties hoping I’d see you,” She said biting her lip.

“I do not enjoy the godly parties. I try to avoid them as much as possible. Though… if I had known you were waiting for me, I would have suffered dealing with my annoying brothers just for you,” He said with a smirk.

“Well. I feel like you owe me a few dates then Lord Hades,” She teased as the song came to an end.

“Why, of course, milady. May I start by taking you to dinner tomorrow night?” He asked her.

“Yes. You may,” She answered pulling away, moving to rejoin Hecate.

“Wait. Come and join me for a while,” He requested, grabbing her hand, stopping her.

She looked at their hands for a moment, before taking it more firmly and nodding. He pulled her along, leading her to the VIP area that was roped off and guarded. He sat down on the couch patting the seat next to him. She joined him, turning slightly to face him. He does the same, his hand resting on her thigh gently.

“So… what brings you to my bar on a school night no less?” He asked in joking manner.

She frowned slightly at the joke but didn’t answer, simply turning her attention to the patrons of the bar.

Hades stared at her, his brow furrowing.

“Hey… what’s the matter doll?” He asked her softly, reaching up to turn her head back toward him.

“I am real tired of people assuming that because I am a flower goddess that I am innocent. I am tired of being treated like something fragile,” She stated with a slight purse of her lips.

His eyes widen slightly at her declaration.

“My mother is too controlling. I just… want to be myself, do what I want,” She said softly, looking down at the couch.

His hand grasped her chin, lifting it up, and tugging it forward slightly. The action made her look up and lock eyes with him again. He leaned forward, brushing his nose against hers for a moment.

“Oh darling… you can do or be whatever you want here. In fact, I encourage it,” He whispered against her lips before capturing them in a kiss.

She felt her breath stop for a moment when she felt him kiss her. Her eyes fluttered shut, as she returned the kiss, her hand reaching up to brush against his stubbly jawline. He deepened the kiss as his hand moved to bury in her hair. Her hands wrapped around his neck and her hand played with his hair.

The kiss grew more passionate as his hand drifted down her side, pulling her closer. He broke the kiss to kiss along her jaw and her neck. He nipped at her neck, enjoying the soft moans he could hear escape her lips. His hand suddenly brushed against a spot on her side that made her squirm a bit, as it tickled. She giggled as she jerked away from his hand.

“Oh? Ticklish, are we? That’s good to know,” Bucky said with a smirk.

“Just a bit,” She said looking down at her watch, noting the time.

It was about 3am and she had to be at the flower shop at 7am. However… she didn’t want to go in tomorrow. She didn’t want to see her mother and pretend she was okay. Her mother kept claiming she could run the shop all on her own and she was feeling a bit petty. She looked back up at him, trying to think of how to best describe what she wanted.

“I have work tomorrow but…” She began looking at him.

“But?” He prompted his eyes twinkling.

“I was hoping…. We could go someplace else?” She suggested hesitantly.

Hades smirked, standing up, and holding his hand out for her to take. She does so, letting him lead her out, grabbing her stuff as they left.

Hecate winked at her and gave her a thumbs up as they left.

Hades led her to his motorcycle outside and helped her on, after she put her jacket back on, her clutch in one hand. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding onto him tightly as he took off. He raced through the streets of New York, driving deeper into the heart of Brooklyn. He eventually pulled into the parking garage of a lush apartment complex.

The two of them made their way up to the penthouse suite and as they rode up in the elevator, Hades hands firmly held onto her hips. She gripped onto his biceps, their eyes locked onto one another, the tension growing between them.

Soon enough they were finally stepping into the penthouse, and as her purse fell to the ground, their hands tugged at each other’s clothes. He blindly led her down the hall to his bedroom, clothes littering the floor. When they finally reached his room, the two of them were naked. She laid down on the bed, Hades following her.

She whispered his name as he began to kiss her.

“Call me Bucky doll. Easier to scream,” He murmured against her skin.

“So long as you call me Blix. Persephone is a mouthful,” She moaned as he sucked on a spot on her neck that sent shivers down her spine.

Bucky groaned softly at the noises she was making and was determined to hear more. He spent the rest of the night drawing out every moan, sigh, and scream that she was able to give.

When they finally did stop to sleep, rays of the sun were creeping up slowly on the horizon.

Bucky watched her sleep for a few moments, admiring her. There was something about her that drew him to her. It wasn’t her innocence, no. He saw it the first time they met, and he saw it again last night. There was a fire…. No… A darkness to her that he wanted, needed to see more of.

She may have been a flower goddess, but he knew… He knew right then as he gathered her into his arms, and fell asleep, that she was destined to be his. A Lady of Death. His Queen.