#and obviously the hoodie mesh is a mess

[hauntedtrait]

my simself in the goth kit bc as a real life goth i actually really like the clothes and i think y'all are wrong <3 ( also you can get the kit here for free )

[pearl-blue-musings]

Hiii how are you 💖 I'm so excited your requests are open you're an amazing writer 💖 Can I please request a medium well steak (Katsuki Bakugou) with a side of mashed potatoes and peas please 👉👈💖

Babe staaahhp but I gotchu

College AU and also quirkless AU i have no self control

I ended up, as per usual, getting carried away with this hope you don’t mind!

Warnings: 18+, smut, some tooth rotting fluff, oral fem receiving, penetration, some dirty talk, pretty soft bakubabe

Enjoy your meal~

~~~~~~~~~~~

When you had started at U.A. university, you weren’t thinking of whirlwind romances or anything cliché like that. You wanted to graduate, hopefully in four years, debate about getting a masters’ degree, and then make a living doing what you love. Of course you had time for friends, going to different sporting events and clubs.

But nothing prepared you for meeting Bakugou Katsuki.

It was at a party, where else? You had finished your midterms and one of your apartment roommates wanted to go out and celebrate. Your roommate, Mina Ashido, knew of a smaller party at one of her friends places downtown. You needed the relaxation badly and just wanted to let it all out. Midterms had been extra tough this time around, but this was your second year of college so having some surprises weren’t unwarranted.

Dressed in your favorite outfit, you and Mina headed out, leaving your other roommate at home to sleep instead of party. The ride there had been filled with fun conversation about Mina’s group of friends and how chaotic they are.

“Our personalities don’t always mesh one on one, but together well we’re still crazy but we work!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, as the music pumped you up for what was to come. Once your ride dropped you off, Mina leads you to the aforementioned apartment. When the two of you walk up to the door and open it, you’re greeted by a tall and lanky man.

“Mina you made it! Just in time, I was about to rip into some of my stash. Light up?”

Mina nods eagerly and then gestures between the two of you. “Sero! This is (Y/n). The roommate and bestie I’ve been talking about?”

The three of you walk further into the apartment so you can remove your jackets in a safe room. The guy, Sero you learn, looks to you and sticks out his hand, taking it. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” His attention turns back to the pink haired young lady, “Mi amor, ready to go?”

You notice Mina’s cheeks redden at the affectionate term and nods. You give her a questioning but sly look as you watch them head to the back of the apartment hand in hand. You find it absolutely adorable. Mina had been gushing on and on about how much she liked this one guy in her friend group. You muse to yourself that you’d be going home alone, and you were content with that.

Making your way into the kitchen, you notice a keg and a large bin filled with Jungle Juice. You can smell the alcohol from where you stand, enticing you even more. You walk up and grab yourself a cup and talk to the faux bartender. “A cup of your finest jungle juice please.”

The blond behind the tub smirks at you and fills your cup. “I’ve never seen you here,” he comments, a little louder because of the music. “Are you Mina’s friend?”

You chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I guess word about me travels fast. Yeah, I’m (Y/n).”

“The name’s Denki Kaminari. Let me guess, smoking with Sero?”

The two of you share a laugh at the mutual understanding. He further explains that those two have been pining for each other ever since they met and it was getting sickening. You ended up spending more time with the cute blond, bonding over funny stories of your shared instruments over a few cups of jungle juice.

Forty-five minutes later and the two of you make your way to a couch, where others were sitting if they weren’t dancing. Your mind and head were in a state of euphoria. You were relaxed, the alcohol in your system taking you to another level of satisfaction. You liked chatting with Denki, he was very witty and funny. Suddenly, nature called.

“Hey, you don’t mind if I go to the bathroom do you? I didn’t think I’d had that much,” Denki slurred/spoke. You nod rather heavily and watch him go. You stare at the contents of your half full cup and wonder if you should pour it out or finish it. As you’re about to stand, some super drunk couple dancing bumped into you and ceremoniously spilling your drink on you and the person next to you. You scoff and whine, a mutter of curses leaving your lips as your outfit is now ruined. You’re about to stand again when you hear to your left,

“Hey you extras! Watch where the fuck you’re going!”

How long had this guy been there? Probably the whole time considering you were immersed in conversation. You finally get a good look at him and see that some of your drink had spilled on him too.

Shit

“Oh my god,” you breathe, “I’m so sorry! They bumped into me and…”

“Oi, shut up,” your stranger scolds. “Come with me, I’ll get you cleaned up and a new cup.”

Shrugging, you walk with him and notice he bumps into the offending couple. He hears them yell back but he just smirks and walks on. You realize you’re walking in the direction where Mina and Sero went a couple hours ago. You put two and two together and realize you messed up the shirt of someone who lives here. If it had been some random person, yeah whatever, but he lived here, with your best friends lover.

You start to panic.

“Oh god, you live here? Now I feel worse.”

The man turns around to face you and rolls his eyes. “Please, I’ve had worse fall on me and my floor. You were talking to Denki, right? Fuckin’ idiot.”

You can’t help but smile at that, feeling some of the uneasiness melt away. You’re then tugged into this room and notice how nice it smells. It’s kept up awfully nice for some college boys, but that’s a comment you keep to yourself. You see him take off his stained shirt and you almost fall over, tripping over nothing.

“Jesus!” You screech, “you should warn someone before you decide to Magic Mike them.” You stay turned around and keep your attention to the door. Yes the door, the wonderful door that has nothing on it but the wood paneling, it’s quite nice-  

“You can turn around now, dumbass.”

You take a deep breath and slowly turn around. He’s in a dry shirt that’s black with what looks like a skull on it. In his hand is a hoodie and a pair of shorts looking insanely comfy. “Here, put this on. I’ll, uh, turn around so you can change.”

You nod hesitantly and wait for him to be completely turned around before you undress. Your body feels cold from where the cool drink had spilled onto you. Once your clothes are off you put on the clothes your nice stranger have given you. You don’t mean to, but you inhale the scent of his hoodie which surprisingly smells of sweet caramel and his cologne. That was almost enough to sober you up.

“I’m done, so you can turn around.” You hadn’t noticed how tired you sounded until you spoke. Your stranger turns around and promptly blushes lightly. You do your best to hide your smile, but it pokes out.

“Bakugou.”

“What?”

“My name, stupid. It’s Bakugou.” It’s quiet as he does his best to avoid staring at you for too long.

“(Y/n).”

He had driven you back to your apartment that night, letting you know that he’d text you once your clothes were clean, exchanging numbers at your doorstep. You had insisted it wasn’t a problem for you to do it, but he stubbornly put his foot down. If you weren’t so exhausted, you would have snapped back at him but refrained. It was cute, really. No guy had ever wanted to fix your clothes after someone else spilled something on it. But since it happened in his place right next to him, he couldn’t help himself.

The two of you continued to keep in touch after that. Eventually you became a regular member of their squad. Denki and Sero were happy to have you around the apartment, and Mina moreso. It all came so easily, your friendship with him, your friendship with the group; it was amazing that you went through most of college without them. You couldn’t imagine it all changing.

Until obviously it did.

Your new squad was chilling at you and Mina’s new place for your third year, getting buzzed off of either marijuana or alcohol. Your couch was the place to sit with Denki on one side and Bakugou on the other. Mina and Sero were snuggled into each other on a shared bean bag, passing a joint between the two of them. Kirishima sat on the ground by your feet, his head resting in between yours and Bakugou’s legs. The lofi music filling the room with the perfect ambiance; it was an ideal night. Kirishima rested his head against your thigh and felt your phone buzz.

“You gonna get that? It’s making your leg uncomfortable,” he breathes.

Bakugou flicks his friends shoulder, “Idiot, you can just move off of her leg,” hissing at the red head. You wave him off and get your phone out of your pocket. The caller I.D. makes you frown and you consider letting it go to voicemail, knowing full well he’ll just keep calling until he gets his answer.

Vermillion eyes peak over your shoulder and catch who it is that’s calling you. Turns out to be your scumbag of an ex, knowing that this isn’t the first time he’s tried calling you. Bakugou sees you start to shrink in on yourself as the phone keeps buzzing. “Give it here, dumbass.”

“Bakugou, it’s fine. I’ll just see what he has to say…”

“Fuck that,” his voice booming over the music as he snatches your phone and promptly answers it. “Listen dipshit, (Y/n) wants nothing to do with you. You broke her heart, you cheated, so stop fucking calling her! And if you call her again or even bother her again, I will beat your ass.”

Your eyes are blown wide at the ashy blond sticking up for you. Said ex had been harassing you nonstop since your break up two months ago and Bakugou had had enough. You didn’t think he would answer the phone for you, but he and Mina are the only ones who knew just how manipulative your ex had been so is this really that surprising? You hear the voice of your exasperated ex yell out over the phone. “And just who the fuck are you to tell me this? Her bodyguard?” You weren’t ready for how Bakugou would respond, eyes alight with a strong energy.

“Better, I’m her boyfriend.”

And he hung up.

When he returned the phone to you, your jaw was practically on the floor. All eyes in the apartment were on him as he lays back on the couch with his eyes closed. Then all eyes turn to you, equally surprised. Did he just say what you thought he said? Boyfriend? But you two hadn’t been on a date yet or even discussed it or…

“That should solve your problem.”

“Bakugou what the fuck!?” You yelled and punched his arm. “We’re not dating, why did you tell him that?”

He exhales softly and turns his attention to you, eyeing you all over. “Princess, you really can’t be that dense.” As he finishes speaking in a low tone, his arm wraps around your shoulders. You meet his gaze as if his eyes are asking for approval. “Is this,” he asks softly, “okay?”

Completely forgetting about everyone else in the room, you nod slowly. You close and lick your lips as you start to recall and remember every interaction you’ve had with the blond. How caring and attentive he’s been in his own way, how he would go above and beyond for you in the subtle ways. It all made sense, maybe you were super dense but it’s better late than never.

To further confirm your thoughts and feelings, you lean into him and lightly place your lips over his in a chaste kiss.

“It’s very okay, Katsuki.”

“Ew oh my god I’m right here. Get a room!”

“Shut up Dunce Face!”

That was a year ago, marking today as your anniversary. You had told him to come to your apartment after he had finished up at the gym with the guys. Luckily, Mina had made plans with Sero so you had the whole place to yourself. It was exciting to finally have some quality alone time with him before finals overwhelmed you all.

It was also a wonderful excuse for the two of you to be as loud as you wanted.

You wore a dress he really liked and underneath, a special surprise set of lingerie in some of his favorite colors: green, black, and orange. You were too ecstatic for him to see it, and better yet to take it off. You had felt a little uncomfortable because of your curves but he had always assured you that he loves you no matter your body shape.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the front door of your apartment open up. You pause your food making in the kitchen to go greet your boyfriend. As you approach the doorway, you see him and smell how fresh he is from the gym; it seems he showered at the gym. In his right hand is a bouquet of your favorite flowers and his left a gift bag.

“Hey sweetcheeks,” a growing smirk on his lips as he looks you up and down. You don’t miss the way his pupils dilate at your dress, knowing it’s his favorite. Since taking off his shoes, he steps up to you and sweetly kisses your lips. “Happy anniversary.”

“’Suki, you didn’t have to get me anything.” You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “I’m fine with just having you.”

“Tch, dumbass. I know you got me something, you didn’t think I noticed that box that came in a couple days ago?”

You pout at him and take your gifts out of his hands and place them on the couch. “How’d you know?” You whine about the ruined surprise but you should’ve known your boyfriend better. “Do you know what it is?”

He runs his hand through his freshly washed hair and bites his bottom lip, “I think I have an idea, babe. Whatcha makin’?”

You twirl around in your dress, knowing damn well it’s an amazing and easy distraction to him. “Just your favorite. Everything should be ready in about 30 or so minutes?”

Suddenly you feel yourself being pushed up against the hallway wall, face to face with your gorgeous boyfriend. “Good,” he whispers huskily, “that’s enough time to enjoy my gift and dessert early.”

His voice went straight to your, now, damp panties.

You feel his hands grip your thighs to have your legs wrap around his torso. His hot breath fans over your awaiting lips, as he then kisses you hungrily. You feel his hard on against your stomach and you moan at the feel. Bakugou breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear, the heat touching your ear making you melt. “I wanna see what you got me, princess.”

“Anything for you, baby.”

With his hold on you secure, he takes you to your room blindly already knowing the way. With your door closed he latches his lips to your neck, sucking and licking all over. He places your feet on the ground as he grinds his hips into yours. Your breathing increases as you scratch at the back of his shirt. “Katsuki,” you whine.

“Mmm?”

“I want you to take off my dress.”

He hears your request and leaves your neck. He turns you around to find the zipper at the back, and slowly unzips your dress. You can feel his warm calloused fingers trailing down your spine and down to your tail bone. The fabric is now bunched down on the ground around your feet and you step out, swaying your hips as you turn around.

“Fuck baby,” he huffs, “for me?”

He had felt some of the satin as he unzipped your dress but it didn’t prepare him for what he saw before his lust blazed eyes. His colors look amazing on you and so does lace and satin. The flowered lace covering your breasts and nipples are begging for him to delve his tongue on them, admiring the extra fabric going across them. Your stomach is covered in a crisscross pattern that makes your skin look divine. And the garters on your legs, and lace thong? Bakugou is in heaven.

You nod at him and gesture for him to come closer. Bakugou gets to you post haste and starts touching you everywhere. His fingers trace all along your body and sneaking underneath your lingerie. He then trails his fingers up to your lace covered breasts and starts to pinch the hardening nub. A little squeal leaves your lips.

“That’s a new sound, do you like the feel of the lace against your nipple, baby?”

He pinches and pulls at them again, getting the same reaction that went right to his gardening dick. He groans and starts to knead your other breast, enjoying the feel of it in his hand. “Fuck,” he quickly kisses your lips, sticking his tongue in and lapping at yours, “I just wanna rip you out of this.”

“Hah, you will do no such thing. I paid a lot of money for this!”

“I’ll get you a new one, princess.”

“You are not ripping this one!”

He rolls his eyes and concedes, taking his delicate time to free your upper half from the sexy lingerie. You make a mental note to buy more lace related items. Immediately his lips go to your hardened bud and sucks viciously. You moan loudly as he releases you with a pop, going to your other breast. God, you wish he wasn’t so good with his hands and tongue, but the way he’s treating you and your reactions say otherwise.

Bakugou slowly moves you two toward your bed, in order to lay you down for what he wants to do next. You feel the back of your legs hit the edge and he places your body underneath his. Throughout all of this his lips never left your body. His lips trail closer and closer to your hips, as they wiggle in anticipation. “Do you,” you pant, “want the bottoms off?”

He takes the lining into his fingers and snaps it onto your unaware skin making you yelp. “No, your legs look hella sexy like this.” His hands are warm against your things, outlining the garter that leads up to your now soaked through thong. His nose brushes against the fabric covering your heat and he feels you shudder at the touch. He tentatively licks at your wetness and he groans in pleasure at how wet you are for him. Fuck he really loves you.

He doesn’t wait any longer and pushes the fabric aside and inserts his tongue into your awaiting heat. You whimper at the intrusion and a hand automatically goes to his hair, pulling lightly. He keeps moving his tongue up and down your slit tantalizingly slow as his fingers play and mess with your outer lips. Your breaths become erratic at your boyfriends ministrations. Before you can say anything, he moves his lips to your clit and sucks at it harshly. Your back arches off the mattress as you curse that the pleasure being given to you.

Two fingers have already entered your heat and scissor and stretch you open. Your hips have a mind of their own as they gyrate on their own accord. “Don’t make me force you to stay down, princess,” he hums against your heat. Just him saying that sends you into a frenzy, forcing him to plant his arm against your pelvis to limit your movements. He can feel the deep coil inside you that wants to come undone. And it’s all because of him and for him. His actions start to speed up and then suddenly he pulls away, making you whine at the loss of contact and friction.

“What the hell? I was so close!”

Bakugou snickers and wipes at his chin and sucks his fingers of some of your juices. The only word to describe him licking you off of him: erotic. “I want you to cum all over my cock, baby girl. Can you be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You bite your bottom lip and nod. As he stands to put himself on your bed, you notice his raging hard on straining against pants.  Damn, it was hot. His pre was already leaving a stain and you wanted more than nothing than to have his dick in your mouth. Ruby eyes follow yours and he clicks in on what has your mouth watering. “If I wasn’t so eager to be inside you right now, I’d let you suck me dry. But all I want to is to be in your fucking pussy, you riding me.”

After he makes his declaration, Bakugou discards his pants and boxers and throws them somewhere in your room. He crawls up to you in between your legs and meets you with a fiery kiss. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he entangles you with his scent and flavor. It’s incredibly sexy and it only makes you want him more. You take a leg and turn the two of you over, with you hovering over his tight and toned body. You know he wants this to be special because you’re on top and you’re face to face. Usually if it’s just fucking you’ll do a plethora of positions. But right now you know that you want to enjoy each others presence and make sweet love. Sitting back on your legs, you lean over to your nightstand and grab a condom. You take the wrapper in your mouth, easily tearing it to reveal the rubber. A naughty idea enters your head.

“What are you doing, baby?”

All you do is lift your eyebrows and scoot back. You take the condom in your mouth and bend over close to his aching cock. You can feel his eyes on you as you lower your mouth onto him, slowly putting the condom over his hard dick. “Ah fuck, princess! Shit feels good. Now get on top of me. Now.”

You giggle at his impatience and make your way to his covered member. You grip it lightly as you line it up with your wet slit, teasing the head of his sensitive cock. His moans are heavenly in your ears as you don’t sink on him yet completely.

Bakugous hands go to your waist, as little whimpers leave his lips at your agonizing teasing. “Shit princess, just put it in already- Hah fuck!”

It’s not everyday you catch the ashy blond of guard but when you it’s glorious. You slam yourself down on his dick, euphoria filling your senses. You loll your head back as you begin to ride him, keeping a hand on his pelvis. The two of you find a hypnotic rhythm of him pumping up into you, and you grinding down on him.

His eyes can’t help but be locked onto where you’re connected, enjoying the sounds of your slick cunt on his cock. He moves his hands from your hips to grip your bouncing breasts, adding extra pleasure to this experience. Whines and moans leave yours and his mouths as you both chase ecstasy together.

“Fuck, baby girl, it’s like your extra tight and wet for me today.”

“Hah, it’s cause I love you,” you pants your hips gyrate faster as you feel your orgasm coming closer. “I’m so close now, daddy. I wanna cum, please.” You’re begging more than usual and it feels oh so good.

You feel your clit being abused and you shout at the overwhelming pleasure rocking through you as your pace falters. “You wanna cum for me? Show me you’ve earned it.” Bakugou sits up, making your legs wrap around his waist, still pumping into you. Your arms find purchase around his neck as you lay your head on his chest, ignoring the sweat between the two of you. “Come on, show me you’ve earned it baby.”

“I’ve earned it, I’ve earned it!”

“Then come with me baby,” he pauses when he feels your fingers dig into his back. “Shit, ah right there baby, fuck, fuck!”

Your hold on him tightens as your coil comes undone and your spill all over his cock, and you feel the way his cum fills up the rubber. You two start to slow down your movements, helping each other through your orgasms. You stay there for a little bit, just enjoying the moment and to let your heartbeats come back to normal.

You roll off of him and lay down next to your spent boyfriend. He looks at you with the most love and adoration that you feel like you’re meeting him for the first time. His palm goes to your cheek to pull you in to a soft and loving kiss. It doesn’t last long as you hear the timer on the oven and the rice maker go off around the same time. Your boyfriend grumbles and rolls to stand. He carefully takes off the used up condom, ties it up and disposes it in the trashcan.

“I’ll turn off the timer, anything else you need while I’m up?”

“Some water, and my favorite post coitus snacks.”

His eyes roll, “Idiot, you made a whole meal we’re not gonna waste it because you got sex munchies.”

“’Suki!”

He throws a towel at you, ignoring your pleas. As he walks away stark naked, you lay back in your bed. You can deal with the sheets later. A feeling of love runs over you and you realize that this is something you could get used to for a long time to come.

The diner is open 

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 25

Series Masterlist

Chapter 25

A/N: I re-wrote this like 3 times so I hope it flows nicely.

Summary: The holiday season arrives and you are finally celebrating for the first time as a family.

Warning: Swearing, smut, public sex (kind of)

Word Count: 10,000

“Hey babe” he mumbles walking into the kitchen, holding Oliver in his arm as he starts making himself a coffee.

“You’re up early on your day off” you say, realizing it’s only 8. Fred has bags under his eyes that are barely open, and mess of hair on his head yet to be brushed.

“Yeah little man came into the room like 10 minutes ago to tell me its tree day” he says yawning.

“Oh I’m sorry babe, he must have snuck off while I was cleaning up from breakfast” you explain. “I told him to let you sleep

“Don’t worry” Fred chuckles “this little guy obviously is excited to pick out a Christmas tree today. Go get ready babe I got him.”

“You sure? You look like you need more sleep, or at the very least 3 cups of coffee and a shower before you can function.”

“I’ll be fine, he has some pictures he has to show me. I can look at them while I drink coffee. Might as well get to the farm early” he says kissing your forehead.

You wander off and hop in the shower and blow dry your hair and curl it before conducting your makeup routine. You change into a green knit sweater, high rise jeans. You head to the living room and see Fred lying on the floor playing blocks with Oliver, his empty coffee mug on the table.

You sit beside them and look at Fred, you see that he still has bags under his eyes, but at least they can stay open now. Fred gets up to shower while you dress Oliver in a Christmas themed sweater.

Fred comes out of the room he is wearing a white Nike hoodie with black jeans that are slightly tight on his large thighs. He bends down to put on his shoes showing his formed ass, a light “mmm" leaves your mouth. He looks at you over his shoulder “checking me out?” You feel your cheeks turning slightly red as a soft “no" leaves your mouth as a smirk crosses his face.

He finally stands and grabs Oliver to take him out to the car when you bring a hand to playfully smack his ass “careful babe, don’t want to start something you can’t finish.”

“When have I not finished it” you mumble quietly, but still loud enough for Fred to hear. He doesn’t answer instead he heads out with Oliver. You walk out to the car as Fred has finished buckling Oliver into his car seat. He closes the door and reaches to open the passenger door for you. Before opening the door he pushes you against it. He looks into your eyes, like he is searching for an answer. Finally he rings his lips to yours. Fred finally pulls back sucking your bottom lip before pulling the handle to open the door. His body is still dangerously close to yours as you turn around to get in the car, Fred brings his free hand to gently smack your ass, before shutting the door behind you.

He walks to the driver’s side and gets in; you reach to the side of his lip and wipe off some gloss. It takes about a half hour to get to the farm, Christmas music is playing quietly in the background while Oliver rambles on to Fred about a million things.

“Really? Mommy bought more Christmas decorations?” Fred says looking at you, causing you to snap out of your daze.

“Guess I shouldn’t have expected a 2 year old to keep a secret” you mumble not looking at Fred, you can feel his eyes glaring at you.

“What?” you finally joke. “We are going to be getting a bigger place we’ll need more decorations” you try and reason.

“Mhm, right. Do we need them now though? I thought we said no buying new stuff until we have the house so we know what fits where” he questions.

“Okay I said that about a couch because we don’t know how big or what style of a couch will fit. But we obviously need more decorations, we will have tables, counters and all sorts of surfaces to put them on. Besides they were on sale” you continue explaining.

“You sure are something” Fred says turning back to the road.

When you arrive at the farm you are overwhelmed by the smell of fresh pine and hot chocolate, you notice that it is starting to snow.

“Daddy it’s snowing” Oliver says fascinated by the first snowfall of the season. He leans his head back and sticks his tongue out trying to capture some snow on his tongue. You laugh walking over to him, fixing so his ears don’t get cold, covering his red hair in the process.

“We make a snowman?” Oliver asks, having watched Frosty the night before.

“We’ll see if there is enough snow” Fred says carrying Oliver through the farm, your hands laced together. You finally reach the area with trees around the size you are looking for.

“Wanna help pick out the tree bud" Fred says crouching to put Oliver down. “Where do you think the good ones are?” Oliver brown eyes gaze around the farm, looking in all the directions. He thinks for a moment before finally pointing in the direction he wants to walk.

“Wow look at all the nice trees” you say as you walk around the area he picked. Oliver leads the way as you and Fred leisurely stroll hand in hand behind him.

Oliver runs around through the trees laughing as he plays in the snow. He tries to make snowballs, but is unable due to the fluffy mixture.

“I’m really happy you made me do this 2 years ago. I always look forward to this day now” he says squeezing your hand.

“You always fuss when I make you do things, but I know you low-key love them.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about” he hums smiling at you. Instead of giving you a chance to respond he pulls your hand, directing you into his chest. He leans down and kisses you lightly, you feel his cold nose press into your face as you kiss him back.

“Eww daddy” Oliver says noticing you have stopped which causes you to pull away laughing.

“Eww?” you question running forward grabbing him. “Mommies kisses are gross?” you begin placing kisses all over his face as he squirms in your arms laughing. Fred joins in kissing the other side of his face, as his laughter continues to erupt.

Finally you and Fred pull away and allow Oliver a chance to catch his breath. You stare up at Fred smiling as he pulls you both into his arms enjoying his warm embrace; his body heat radiating through his layers. You stand there for another minute before Oliver squirms to be put down.

The snow begins to let up, three inches have blanketed the area. Oliver begins to struggle in some of the drifts with his winter boots and snow pants causing him to trip occasionally. But this doesn’t stop him as you continue searching for a tree.

“What about this one?” Fred asks standing beside a Fraser Fir. It is over 8ft. tall and has dark green needles covering it. There is one spot that appears to be a little bare, but with fluffing you think it can be hidden, and if not you can position that in the back.

Oliver comes running up beside you “yeah daddy this one!”

“Yeah? You think it’s good?” Fred asks him.

He eyes it up and down one more time before clapping his hands “yeah!” he cheers.

“Well it has Oliver’s approval, so looks like we have our tree” you smile picking him up and bouncing him on your hip.

“Why this tree bud?” you as him while you wait beside it while Fred finds an employee to help with the tree.

“It’s really big and green. Daddy said it had to be taller than him and it is” he replies.

You laugh at that comment seeing Fred return with a worker and a saw. “I’m surprised there is tree’s taller than daddy” you say kissing Oliver’s rosy red cheek.

Before leaving you decide to check out the shop they have, walking in you immediately smell the pine from the fireplace and  warm apple cider. You hear the sound of miniature trains running a few feet from the ceiling, which draws your gaze up and you see all the snowflakes they have hanging from the ceiling.

“Woah” Oliver says looking around the room, not sure where to focus his attention.

“Look at the deer” Fred says pointing to the corner where they have 4 mesh reindeer covered in glitter and the warm glow of the small gold lights. They are attached to reins, with a sleigh behind it, a large Santa sculpture in the back.

“Santa” he squeals following Fred’s direction.

“See if you let me buy decorations we could get that” you say watching your son who is standing about one foot from the setup investigating the display. A worker comes up and presses a button on the wall and Santa begins to wave while belly laughing a “Ho Ho Ho” comes from its mouth.

“Oliver clearly loves it and approves. But instead you are a Grinch and don’t let me buy decorations” you say coming up to Oliver.

“Daddy Santa said hi to me” Oliver says completely fascinated by the decoration, he keeps staring at it, trying to get him to move again. You walk over to the button and hit it, watching his face light up as the display starts again.

“I’m not a Grinch” he laughs. “I just said to wait until we have our next house. Then you can buy whatever we need to decorate, we just don’t know what will fit where and what we need until we have a space to fill.”

“See all I hear is: I hate Christmas and no decorations allowed” you joke nudging his arm. After another half hour in the store with turning on the display a countless number of times for Oliver, you finally get Fred to cave and buy a couple decorations Oliver wanted before leaving. He wouldn’t let you buy the large outdoor display but caved when Oliver’s big brown eyes asked for some table top and tree ornaments.

When you get home you realize Oliver fell asleep in his car seat the fresh air knocking him out. You carefully pull his winter clothes off and carry him to his crib before making your way to the kitchen. You make a batch of hot chocolate and curl up on the couch watching as Fred gets the tree set up in the stand.

“All ready for decorations” Fred says a couple minutes later sitting beside you. You snuggle up to him while you drink your hot chocolate staring at the tree, the twinkling lights illuminating the living room as it, the begins to smell of fresh pine. “I think Oliver had the right idea with a nap" you say as Fred leans your head on his shoulder and helps get you comfortable on him. He kisses your forehead and strokes your hair as you fall asleep.

A little while later you hear Oliver’s little feet running across the floor. You open your eyes and see that after you fell asleep Fred laid you on a pillow and placed a blanket over you. He also cleaned the fallen needles from the tree and went to the storage and got all your Christmas decorations. He even set a few up, leaving the tree of course.

You see your throw pillows on the bench by your front door, with your miniature trees in burlap sacks with ornaments. Above the fireplace you see garland draped across as your three stockings dangle from it. Fred even tried to add in the pinecones and the bows you normally tie at the ends, except it looks like he had help from Oliver and you will redo the bows when he leaves for hockey next. Above the fireplace is your large wreath, and some unlit candles are staggered across the mantle.

You stand up and continue scanning around the room, next you see Santa’s village, on your dining room hutch complete with fake snow and little trees. He has the lights dimmed so the buildings are illuminated by the L.E.D lights inside them. At the centre of the village is the ice hockey rink Fred bought Oliver earlier today. He was super excited to have a hockey rink like in his house, and was smiling ear to ear when Fred said yes.

Your kitchen island has three different sized vases filled with colourful ornaments. In the corner of the cabinets your circular wooden tray with a miniature red pickup truck and oversized pinecones. In the tailgate of the truck you see the elf of the shelf you bought, Oliver doesn’t understand the concept of it yet he just likes the elf.

“Thought you would have napped with me since he woke you up early” you say wrapping your arms around Fred. Your face rests against his back, you can feel some water on the back of his shirt, having dripped down from his recent shower. You breathe in the laundry soap and body wash, feeling his chest rise and fall against your hands.

“I was going to after I got all the boxes out so we could decorate, then I saw all the needles on the floor and had to clean them, and then the laundry was done. There was just something to do, and when I was finally going to nap Oliver woke up.”

You place a soft kiss to his t-shirt “you’re the best” you murmur against him. “And it looks amazing in here babe.”

“I did what I could, I didn’t know where you wanted everything though” he says gently grabbing your hands.

“Mommy we do tree now!” Oliver asks running into the kitchen.

“Told him we had to wait for you to wake up to do the tree, so I distracted him by setting up the other decorations. Surprised you slept through that, he was pretty loud setting everything up.” Fred pulls your hands off his chest and turns around to place a kiss against your temple. “Must have been tired elskede.”

“Yeah I guess so” you say in agreement.

This year Oliver is interested enough to help decorate the tree with you. Fred helps lift him so he can reach the high spots as you decorate the tree as a family. Ornaments are scattered around, some in clusters other parts of the tree appear bare, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

As much as you like things organized and everything set in a particular spot, the Christmas tree is one spot it doesn’t make sense, you want to look at it and remember this joy of this night and not see something that belongs in a magazine. You can’t wait until the tree is covered mostly in hand made ornaments by your kids, and the occasional store bought ones to help fill in the gaps.

You stand there for a minute realizing that this could be the last Christmas just the 3 of you, next year there could be a new baby. You can see Fred holding your new baby in one arm while he reaches to the top portion of the tree; your baby fascinated by the lights their eyes fixated on them. Oliver’s laughter filling the room as Christmas music plays quietly in the background. You tear up at the thought of your family growing and how things are changing; you feel Fred wrap his arm around you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“What’s wrong elskede?” he asks softly.

“Nothing” you cry turning to look at him. “I was just thinking how this is perfect.”

Fred smiles at you gently kissing your forehead “yeah it is.”

“Ollie want chicken for dinner?” you ask a couple hours later, having finished the decorating and put all the containers back in storage. You are standing in the kitchen looking into your pantry trying to decide on what to eat given that its five o’clock and you haven’t started making dinner.

“No I want za” he squeals earning a laugh from Fred.

“You have to know a two year old is only going to pick pizza or chicken nuggets” he says from the couch.

“I thought I was a good cook” you say back.

“You are a great cook, but he is two and two year olds like finger foods. Besides pizza sounds nice tonight, Rudolph is on in hour anyways” you walk over and sit beside him “we can have a pizza and movie night.”

“Sounds nice” you say pulling out your phone and ordering dinner “I don’t really have the energy to cook after all that decorating anyways.” You should have more energy given your nap in the afternoon, but today was really bust with lots of fresh air. You think if you can get a good sleep tonight you will wake up refreshed tomorrow.

2 hours later you are all on the couch, Fred is lying on his back while Oliver is lying on him wrapped under a blanket. The pizza is long gone, the empty box on the counter. When Oliver crawled onto Fred’s chest you turned the volume down and dimmed the lights, figuring he would fall asleep. The TV is now a low hum, the words barely audible at this point.

“I think he’s sleeping” you say to Fred who is slowly stroking his hand over your sons back.

“Yeah has been for a bit, this is just really nice” he says “I love these moments though.”

“I know” you say smiling. As much as you love the moments when Oliver curls up beside you, you love seeing Fred being as a father. You realize just how lucky  you are; given the circumstances. When you told him you were pregnant almost 3 years ago he easily could have walked away then. He could have been the dad that sends money and spends time when it suits him, he could have completely walked out and abandoned his parental rights.

But you lucked out, he stepped up and wanted to be a dad. But further to that he wanted a relationship with you. He always wanted a good relationship with you, wanted to make sure you could ease into parenting together. But he also saw something in you, saw a family and a future. When you ruined your relationship before it even began, he gave you a second chance, or was it a third by that point? His patience and love for you never wavering and now you have everything you never thought possible.

Fred smiles at you, and continues rubbing Oliver’s back for a few more minutes before finally standing up to tuck him in bed. When he returns to the living room, he turns up the volume on the corny Christmas movie that’s playing. He lifts up the blanket calling you over, you crawl up beside him and snuggle in with him and the fleece blanket. Between Fred’s body heat, the fleece blanket and the fireplace you are warm and you can tell Fred is too, as he pulled the blankets off his legs to cool down.

Fred knows that you love to be cocooned in blankets and warm all winter, he doesn’t complain instead wearing tight t-shirts and thin track pants to balance the heat in the apartment. Seeing Fred in tight thin clothes is also another reason you enjoy the apartment being so warm, you still never get over his amazing body.

You wrap one leg over his hip, Fred brings a hand down a draws light circles on your pyjama pants, but you can still feel them through your fabric. You run a hand under his shirt, resting just above his treasure line. He lightly strokes your leg, gently raking his nails over your thigh. A light moan leaves your lips, your eyes begin to get heavy as the movie fades to background noise.

You wake up around 9:30 when Fred shifts under you, he carefully pulls you into his arms carrying you bridal style toward your bedroom. You look up at him as you lean in closer and wrap your hand around his neck.

“I was trying not to wake you" he says setting you on the edge of the bed and pulls your sweater over your head and unclasps your bra. He pulls one of his t-shirts over your head. “I don’t know why I’m so tired today" you mumble.

“Busy day” he replies as he keeps helping you out of your pants “up early, then we were at the farm, and a busy few days with a two year old. Makes sense babe.” He places a kiss on your forehead. “You need to let me get him tomorrow so you can sleep in. Can’t have you getting rundown on me, it’s a busy time of year we need you at 100%.

He kisses you before helping you under the duvet as he curls in beside you. You don’t expect to sleep. You had 2 naps that day, one was really late so you imagine yourself staying awake for a bit but within a half hour you are asleep wrapped tightly in Fred’s arms.

The next couple days Fred is up first with Oliver allowing you to get a bit more sleep, helping you to no longer feel exhausted. You think you were beginning to get a cold but with Fred having a bunch of home games it allowed you to get some much needed rest.

When you wake up on the 11th it’s just after 7:30, the earliest you have been up the past couple days. You make your way to the kitchen, the smell of eggs and coffee overwhelms you.

Oliver see's you and heads over to you immediately with a big smile. “Hey bud, you look cute” you say picking him up for his morning hug. Fred has him dressed in a blue button up shirt with a grey sweater vest. Fred walks over and kisses you “we have the showing at 12:30 and the party at 3” he says setting a plate of breakfast down in front of you.

You have only looked at 2 houses since finding your agent, neither having what you both were looking for. One needed too much renovations and the other was fine it just didn’t feel like home. Today will be the 3rd, and it has promise though you think it might be a little large for you guys with 7 bedrooms. Fred says it’s great for when friends or family visit. It has a nice backyard for the summer as well.

You arrive at the showing without Oliver; Fred booked Christie thinking it would be easier without him. It is a lavish house with a front gate, with a long driveway that connects to an oversized three car garage that has racks and tons of space for Oliver’s bikes, hockey equipment and all the toys you know Fred is itching to buy him. He kept sending you pictures of various motorized vehicles he wants to buy him, there was a navy blue miniature jeep, bright red two door Ferrari and a grey hummer. While you aren’t opposed to him having one you don’t have the space in the condo to store it.

From the garage there is a large mudroom complete with storage cubbies and a small glass shower on the side “why is there a shower in here?” you ask.

“That door over there” your realtor points to one “it opens to the backyard. The current owner has two golden retrievers, they installed it so when they play in mud they can bring them inside through this door and give them a shower before letting them into the rest of the house.”

“So it’s a puppy shower” you reply shooting Fred a side eye.

“I’m sure it also can be used on little boys who like to get muddy” Fred says trying to ignore your badgering for a dog, but he can’t help from smiling.

You move down the hall next noticing an office off to one side, one wall has exposed red brick, the adjacent wall has a fireplace and with the surrounding wall painted mate black. The wall between them has a giant window flanked with giant book shelves waiting for your book collection. You can see your kids when they are older reading on the bench in front of the window while you work at the nearby desk.

The home was recently renovated and the area is a mix of modern and traditional feels. The warm oak hardwood floors mixed with the light coloured walls is exactly what you are looking for. The trim and window casings are all white, while the doors are a contrast painted black. There are also some pops of black on the walls in the office and main floor bathroom, which brings in some dramatic flair that you love. You love how it is almost a blank canvas; any furniture or décor items will suit the space giving you many options.

Next you follow the gorgeous oak hardwood floors to large oversized dining room that currently has a 1 person table but there is so much space you can easily get more. You imagine your family and Fred’s sitting here on Christmas passing around the platters of food while Oliver babbles away in his high chair. “Think of the family dinners in here” you whisper to Fred and he just smiles at you.

You move to the other side of the main floor with a large great room. There is a large white kitchen with marble slab backsplash and counters with a massive 5 person island and amazing appliances. There is a dining nook that can fit 8 people comfortably that also has an amazing wet bar with floating glass shelves and a tile accent wall. You can see the wet bar coming in handy when hockey players and their spouses are over for dinner. The dinning nook overlooks the large living room with an oversized fire place ready for a TV the be installed above it. The gas fire place is ignited making the space feel warm and inviting. Even though the entire space is staged with simple and elegant furniture, personal items and photo all removed, it still feels like home to you.

There is also a room off to the side with frosted glass doors that is currently set up as a play room with a toy oven and some blocks “Ollie would love this” Fred exclaims. There is a wall with floor length cupboards and bookshelves perfect for storing his toys and books when not in use.

“Mom would love this, can close the door when he is asleep and nobody sees his mess of toys” you say laughing.

“I really like the kitchen too, can see myself sitting at the island drinking coffee while you make breakfast without a shirt" you say. Fred hates to wear a shirt while making breakfast, he always ends up with bacon grease, flour or something on his shirt. He says it’s a waste to wear a shirt for it to end up dirty and in the laundry within an hour, making the result him walking around topless while making breakfast. Not that you are complaining, you enjoy seeing him putter around the kitchen with his track pants hung a little low showing off his treasure line, and the curves of his back.

“You should make me breakfast topless sometime” he teases in a hushed tone so the realtor doesn’t hear.

There is a large attached pantry with a built in coffee station. Floor to ceiling shelves and cupboards fill the room, along with a second integrated dishwasher, because a second dishwasher is necessary. After exploring the pantry, you open the next door which is a wine room. “Oh I like this” you say walking through the climate controlled room.

“Yeah you love your wine” Fred chuckles.

“Well yeah” you laugh.

“I don’t think this is good, we fill the wine you drink the wine” he says closing the door behind you.

“Not true” you scoff.

“Please” he jokes “I see the empty bottles after your girl’s nights.” He isn’t wrong; you and the girls have known to get into the wine some nights when the boys are on the road, or even some home games you and Kathy decide to watch from home. Fred knows these nights aren’t all the frequent and is just teasing you. He loves coming home when your wine drunk half asleep on the couch after trying to wait up for him.

“Not fair I won’t be able to drink for nine months” you say, which brings a smile to Fred’s face.

“Can’t wait for that elskede” he says placing a soft kiss on your temple.

“The wine room is amazing, but I actually meant I love the pantry, I just see so much space to keep things organized. Being able to keep the kitchen clutter free because everything has a home! Like it’s so large I could lie down and not touch the cabinets on either side.”

“I mean you’re like 5 feet tall so it’s not hard” he laughs.

Next you head outside, there is a little bit of snow on the ground so you don’t venture off the patio. You can see the large deck that is partially covered providing an area to sit if it is raining, and a large open area where additional patio furniture would fit.

There is a large pool with waterslide you know Oliver will love, and a hot tub you’re sure Fred will enjoy after games to help him relax. There is also a backyard grill and an outdoor bar; all the things that will be perfect for barbeques, or summer afternoons with the family.

You point to an area on the other side of the pool, nice and flat “that area looks perfect for a hockey rink and as the kids grow up we can keep an eye on them from the kitchen.”

Fred smiles “told you this place is perfect” he hums in your hear, his hands rubbing your shoulders.

“And so much room for a puppy to run around!” you say smiling back at him.

The agent let’s you roam the rest of the house on your own. You head inside to the basement and see the home gym, a theater room, a bar area with a pool table and a bathroom and bedroom. Next you take the elevator (because this house obviously has an elevator) to the upstairs and check the bedrooms.

Most of the bedrooms have their own bathroom and closets of varying sizes, except for two which share a large jack and Jill bathroom. The master and the smallest bedroom are at one end, the stairs separating them from the remaining four bedrooms. You begin by looking at the four bedrooms, picking out Oliver’s that has a built in desk under the window perfect for doing his homework when he is older.

You finally enter the double doors into the master, which is so large the king sized bed barely takes up any space. There is a fireplace with a mounted TV above it, a large set of French doors open up to a private balcony overlooking the yard “be nice to have coffee out here” you say moving on.

Next you head to the giant walk-in closet that is similar in size to the bedroom back in your old Toronto apartment. It is a walk through L-shaped with a built-in island for various accessories, it has built in rods and shelves waiting to be filled with your clothes. Because of the shape, one section is twice the size of the other.

“I get this part” you say pointing to the longer section that has a window “and you can have that” you point around the corner.

He laughs “wouldn’t have it any other way babe.” Although you do know that some of his game day suits and jackets will definitely migrate to your side. And you know the accessory island will be split with both of your items.

“Definitely need more clothes though to fill it.”

“You don’t need any more clothes” Fred groans from behind you.

“You can always use more clothes. Oh and more shoes and bags. Look at those shelves, so much room for shoes” you say pointing.

He just shakes his head “or maybe we can put some of my shoes on this side to help fill it in.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea” you joke knowing that they will find a home on your side. You continue walking through the closet and enter the massive ensuite.

You wander in and see a massive shower stall that could fit 3 people, it has two rain shower heads as well as two wall panels with jets. You imagine all the fun you and Fred will have in there, you pressed against the cool tile your legs wrapped around his back.

Beside the shower there is dual sinks and the large jetted standalone tub with windows overlooking the snow covered backyard. You can imagine it in the fall when the leaves are changing colours or in the spring when the birds are chirping, you could basically live in the bathroom. “Be nice to have this while taking a bath, some wine and candles. This view too" you say staring out the window

“Only view I need is you" he growls in your ear, you feel a tingling in your core at his words. You turn away heading to the other side with the dual sinks that are separated by a makeup vanity. You run your finger over the marble counter.

“What are you thinking?” you ask.

“I want to pull your pants down and fuck you on the counter" he replies.

You take a breath, looking into his normally brown eyes which are dark and filled with lust. “I meant about the house" you say gulping.

“I want to pull your pants down and fuck you on the counter in this beautiful house" Fred says approaching you and gently sucking your neck.

“We can’t babe" you moan. “It’s not our house.”

“I’m putting in an offer before we leave. I know you love this house, every room you go to you are imagining our family. On top of that it is half of what I wanted to spend, making it a great deal. So I’m buying this house. It will be ours, so if I want to fuck you in our bathroom I will fuck you in our bathroom.” He practically growls out the word our making your knees almost give out. You clench your legs together trying to feel some friction, really wishing you didn’t have the team Christmas party after since you won’t have time after the showing.

He pulls your collar down and places soft kisses on your collarbone. “Babe…mmm….we can’t” you barely whisper as you tilt your head allowing him better access. You bring your hands up to grip the back of his biceps, using him for support while he nips on your neck. A soft moan escapes your lips while he sucks on your earlobe.

“Your words say stop but your actions say continue” his hand slides up your shirt and bra, his calloused fingers graze your nipple. You squirm at the sensation your period is due in a few days. He massages your breast your hips instinctively arch toward him as your hands lightly grip his hands toying with the hem of his sweater.

“What do you want me to do babe? Gotta let me know” he whispers in your ear, his hot breath bringing goosebumps to your skin.

You guys are still trying, or kind of trying. You’re not tracking periods or anything, but also not using birth control. Standing inches from Fred his breath on your neck his hand gently massaging your breasts, makes it hard for you to not melt into his touch.

You look him in the eyes and you are pretty sure he can feel the heat radiating off your body. Your hand slips under his sweater, feeling his hard abs under your skin, “gotta be quick” you say as you unbutton his pants.

He removes your belt and pulls your jeans down. He brings his finger up to your red silk underwear and strokes you feeling the wetness through them “I knew you wanted this” he says as a grin crosses your face.

His finger caresses your clothed core as your head falls back “please” you whimper. He hooks his index finger in your underwear pulling them down your thigh as he turns you around pushing you into the counter. He uses his knee to spread your legs before he inserts 2 fingers inside you; a deep exhale leaving your chest.

“Mmm" you moan as he begins pumping inside you. His mouth presses against your neck sucking on your sweet spot.

He smirks while he curls two fingers in you stroking your walls, setting a fast pace as you rock your hips back onto him. He brings his other hand around to rub circles on your clit, you bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning. Your clit is throbbing as his two calloused fingers are thrusting in your pussy, applying pressure in just right places.

Fred keeps going even though he knows you are ready for him, and you know he will keep doing this until your orgasm reaches you which is quickly approaching. You also know there is a realtor in the kitchen that could hear or wander upstairs at any minute. As much as you want him to bring you to your high, as much as you want to rock your hips on his large fingers, you don’t want to risk getting caught.

“Babe I need you" you say. You look at him in the mirror and he smirks at you knowing he was right. He pulls his fingers out and inserts his hard dick inside you.

You moan at the feeling of being stretched by him, even after all the sex you have with him you still need time to adjust to his size. Before he starts he brings his fingers to your mouth and you open for him. He slides them in your mouth and you suck your juices off his fingers licking up the side of them as he thrusts into you again.

You moan closing your lips around his fingers tasting yourself. You swirl your tongue around them, licking up the sides of his digits while he slowly slides them in and out of your mouth. He starts moving his hips, giving you slow long strokes and each one feels better than the last while simultaneously moving his fingers in and out of your mouth.

When his fingers are clean he pulls them from your mouth and wipes them on the back of your sweater before bringing them up to massage your breast, pinching your nipple. You whimper slightly, Fred brings a leg onto the counter to increase the angle, causing you to moan loudly as he keeps his long paces pick up speed. You pushed back harder grinding your ass against his pelvis, Fred’s hand leaves your breast and slaps one of your cheeks hard, making it sting and redden.

His hand slides over to your hip gripping it hard, his nails are digging into your skin as he pulls you back onto him. He slams into you over and over again, his cock pushing deeper and deeper inside of you with every thrust.

You feel the beginnings of an orgasm start to stir, “Fred" you moan as his mouth bites lightly on your shoulder “fuck babe.” You can feel Fred becoming erratic behind you. He uses his hands to pull you back onto his hard member, thrusting into you; you think his nails could draw blood he is gripping you so tight.

Fred notices you are getting close and continues his pace, you can see him straining waiting for you, “cum for me baby, I got you” he says. You see his eyes are dark, pupils blown with lust as you stare at him in the mirror, knuckles going white from griping the counter tightly.

A few moments later you feel your walls tighten around his dick. You bite your bottom lip trying to suppress your moans, but it doesn’t work; you moan his name loudly as you spasm around him.

“(Y/N)” he groans pushing you down onto the cool marble counter. One of his hands works its way up your back getting lost in your hair. He grabs a handful of your hair as his dick twitches shooting warm white ribbons deep inside you.

He stills behind you, his hands still tangled in your hair. His hand gently slides down your back resting on the small of your back as you both come down from your highs “for someone who didn’t want to do this you sure were fast and loud eh" he laughs.

“I don’t know what came over me, I just couldn’t help it" you reply, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder. Everything about you was heightened. Every touch of Fred’s hand sent a fire to your core, likely from not being with him for a few days.

He pulls out slowly, you whimper at the feeling of emptiness. Fred grabs your hand spinning you around, he steps closer to you his thick thigh pressing into your clit, the mixture of both your cum spilling onto him.

“It was hot” he smiles leaning down to kiss you. He flexes his thigh as the kiss becomes deeper. Your tongue dances around his mouth while your hands reach around and give his ass a gentle squeeze. Fred squirms while you giggle and pull apart.

“Why are you so fascinated with my ass?” he chuckles “always sneaking up on me grabbing it” he trails off smirking at you.

“You have a very nice ass” you shrug nonchalantly as he steps back from you rolling his eyes at you “just have to make sure it gets the appreciation it deserves.”

He places one last kiss on your lips before moving beside you to the sink to clean himself up. He pulls his pants and boxers back up his thigh “I’m going to talk to the realtor you take your time” he says

A few moments later you find the men in the kitchen looking over a tablet.

“Come sign babe" Fred says looking at you as you walk in.

“Oh, you want me to…”

“Yeah it’s our family home so it should be in both our names" he says smiling. You walk over and stand on the other side of the realtor and become aware that you smell of sweat, sex and Fred’s cologne. The realtor acts professional leading you to believe he either didn’t hear, or is trying to ignore it so he can get the sale as he goes over the contract and points out the areas for you to sign.

You return home and begin getting ready for the team party. You shower, not washing your hair, mostly to remove the sweat and sex feeling from you. As you are about to put a bra on, Fred walks in to change his sweater. He sees you standing there in jeans, you chest completely exposed.

He smiles walking over and kisses you “I love you" he says as his hand comes up to play with your nipple. You know this is innocent and more him trying to tease you. You wince at the feeling and Fred waits for an explanation, looking slightly concerned. “Boobs are sore” you explain standing on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek.

“Yeah makes sense, been about 4 weeks” he says referring to your period as he releases your breast. He then walks into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

A few days later Fred leaves for the last road trip before Christmas. They will be returning late at night after their game on the 21st and have a home game on the 22nd then he has a few days off for Christmas. You spend most of those days he’s on the road getting the few remaining presents wrapped; finish putting up the remainder of the decorations.

December 20

You are cleaning up from making cookies when Fred facetimes you, you answer while continuing to clean the kitchen. You can tell his hair is damp under his ball cap, having just got back to the hotel from a morning skate.

“Hey babe" you say.

“Hey what are you guys doing?”

“Earlier we made sugar cookies and we just decorated them, so I’m cleaning the icing and sprinkles off every surface before bathing our son" you angle the phone to Oliver who is in his high chair with white and red icing all over his face and stomach as he licks his fingers. You hear Fred laugh “wow I am so happy I’m on the road and don’t have to clean you up little man.” Oliver smiles at Fred as he smears more icing on his stomach.

“I’m really happy I took his clothes off before this” you laugh.

“Can I see the cookies?”

You bring the phone to the tray showing him star, tree, Santa and ornament cut out cookies with beautiful icing “looks great, save a couple for me.”

“I make no promises” you laugh. “And these are Oliver’s” you pan to two cookies that have icing smeared all over “he opted to decorate by licking his fingers and then dipping them in the icing" you laugh.

He laughs back at you “as a good as his look I would prefer some of yours.” You laugh lightly “so the realtor called and we got the house. We get the keys Feb 15. We can order some new furniture and have it delivered before movers bring our stuff over. You want to paint any of the rooms before we move in babe?”

“Uh our bedroom, and the playroom for sure. What about Ollie’s bedroom do you want to redo it or keep it the same?”

“Uh I mean he has only had his room for a few months, might be good to get his new room done the same. Might help him feel comfortable” Fred replies.

“Yeah, that’s smart. That’s why I keep you around” you joke.

“I thought it was my charm and dashing good looks” he responds.

“No it’s actually for when you get drunk and your Danish accent comes out.”

“Oh you like that?”

“Almost as much as when you talk in Danish to me.”

“åh du kan lide den skat?”

You feel some wetness pooling in your core. “Oooh I wish it was Oliver’s naptime so bad right now.”

Fred laughs into the phone “well it’s my naptime anyways babe, got a game tonight, love you.”

The next night you order dinner, too drained to make food. It’s the last game of Fred’s road trip, and you want to have everything done for when he gets back so you can enjoy your time together instead of in lines. You spent the morning out with Oliver getting a few last minute gifts, and there is nothing you hate more than malls this close to Christmas. But you actually had nobody to blame but yourself, you meant to go weeks ago but couldn’t muster the energy.

You have a pounding head ache, likely from being sardined into a mall with a cranky toddler. After about an hour he completely lost interest, not that you can blame him. You hoped he would nap in his stroller, instead he had a full meltdown in Target, which meant you didn’t end up leaving without a few items.

This resulted in you ordering your favourite dinner from your favourite restaurant. You contemplated opening a bottle of wine, but as your Advil haven’t kicked in you decided not to. As you are unpacking dinner and putting it on a plate you smell the salmon. Your stomach instantly churns but you still try to eat it. You barely eat a quarter of it before you put it in the fridge, just eating the salad. You continue to feel slightly nauseous as the night wears on, but the Advil is staring to work.

Oliver climbs into your lap around 7pm when you put the hockey game on “Daddy” Oliver says as Freddie is shown on TV, as a smile spreads across his face. You rest your head on his running your hand through his hair while you watch, holding your son close to your chest. Oliver falls asleep sometime near the start of the second period.

Normally you would have put him in his crib prior to him falling asleep, but tonight all you need is his cuddles. You want to stay awake until Fred gets home, the game being in Philadelphia means it won’t be too late in the night when he walks in. But after the day you had you just need to sleep and restart tomorrow.

You and Fred don’t typically let him sleep in your bed, but this is just what you need. You don’t want it to become a habit but one night won’t be the end of the world. You pull him in to your chest tight as you doze off. Around 2am you feel the bed shift as Fred crawls in kissing your forehead.

“Hey” you mumble groggily.

Fred wraps his arm around you and Oliver, he presses himself to you, holding you both tight to his chest.

“What’s he doing in here?” he whispers against the back of your head.

“I just needed him tonight.” “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a long day. The mall was packed and Oliver hated it which led to a killer head ache. Didn’t help I was barely able to eat dinner.”

“I’m sorry babe, I wish I was here for you.”

“You’re here now” you mumble as you doze off.

The next day you wake up early around 6am with a wave of nausea as you run to the bathroom. In your hurry you didn’t even get the door shut before falling to your knees. You try to hold your hair back as you began emptying the contents of your stomach when you feel Fred’s stroke your head pulling your hair back for you as he sits on the edge of bathtub behind you.

When you finish you lean back up against his legs while he keeps stroking your head. “I’m sorry you’re sick babe, after tonight I have a few days off and can take care of you.” He helps you to your feet and to brush your teeth before scooping you back up and bringing you to bed.

A few hours later as Fred is getting ready to leave for practice another bout of nausea comes over you. As you leave the washroom Fred pulls you in for a hug “its looks like you have a bug or something babe. Maybe you ate something” he says kissing your temple “I’ll bring you some soup home for you tonight.”

You stand there for a minute after he leaves thinking back on what you ate over the past couple days. The 2 days leading up to you ordering the salmon you had vegetarian meals so you see how that could be the cause. Also Oliver ate the same meals as you and he is fine so you doubt it’s the food.

You brush your teeth and reach under the sink to get a new mouth wash when you realize you don’t have any, one of the items you left during Oliver’s meltdown. You remember that all the items you left were bathroom products, and you can get them at a pharmacy which likely isn’t overly busy.

“Okay buddy” you say picking up Oliver “we gotta head to CVS quickly. We’ll be back very soon though.”

Luckily there is a pharmacy across the street, so you only need winter clothes not even bothering to change out of your track pants. You set Oliver in the kart and walk up and down the aisles grabbing the items you need. You and Fred recently started potty training Oliver, and you decide to get some pullups.

As you push the kart further down the aisle you come up to the tampon section and try to remember if you have any left after your last period.

“Mommy I get chocolate bar” Oliver asks you. When was my last period? Had one around Oliver’s birthday, but it was really light only lasting 2 days or so. That means I should have had it almost 2 weeks ago.

“Mommy, can I get a chocolate bar?” Oliver repeats to you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hmm, yeah sure bud of course” you agree absentmindedly. You walk further down the aisle throwing a box in the kart before heading to checkout.

December 25

The past few days have been great. You have been enjoying having him around, and Oliver has loved it, his excitement growing every day. The house has been filled with little footsteps and giggles making your heart swell seeing the interaction between your boys. You have had nausea on and off throughout the past couple days, while also feeling physically drained.

You wake up Christmas morning and you give Oliver most of his presents first. Fred opens up one toy which is a large firetrucks with lights and sirens, Oliver lies on the floor playing with his truck as you and Fred exchange presents. You got him a new watch, cufflinks and this coat he mentioned wanting. He bought you a gorgeous watch, diamond earrings and a pair of black Louboutin stilettos.

“Babe this is too much” you say as he pulls you up into his lap his hands cupping your ass gently. Your hands cup his face, stroking his beard as your lips connect in a passionate kiss. You lean your head on his shoulder as you both watch Oliver play with his toys.

You enjoy your Christmas dinner as a family, later that night after Oliver has gone to bed you find Fred in the living room with two wine glasses and a bottle of red on the table. There is the warm glow from the candles Fred lit, heat radiating off the fireplace.

“You feeling up for some wine babe? You haven’t been sick today, maybe you’re over it.”

“Maybe in a bit” you say sitting beside him, pulling your red and black fleece throw blanket over you. “I have one last present for you babe” you say pulling a box out of your sweater. It’s a rectangular box wrapped in silver paper with glitter snowflakes with a little bow.

“Babe you didn’t need to get me anything else babe.” You kiss his cheek “too late babe can’t take it back so you better open it” you say while handing it to him.

“Like the wrapping job, makes me think it’s a very special gift” he says taking the box from you. He shakes it a little bit smirking at you before unwrapping it, revealing a wooden box. He opens the box staring at it for a second in disbelief. His eyes switch between your face and the box trying to find the answer. “Babe…what...what is this? Are you -?” he can’t get the words out as he sits beside you holding up a pregnancy test.

You feel your eyes watering and you just stare at him with a large smile “maybe” you say softly. He brings your face close to his and starts kissing you. It starts slow and soft, while your hands tangle in his hair. His large hands grip the back of your neck as his tongue dances in your mouth. You taste the sugar cookie he must have just finished as he pulls you into his lap. You separate, keeping your forehead touched lightly to his as he stares into your eyes still smiling at you.

“I realized a couple days ago my period was almost two weeks late, I have been nauseous and my boobs have been sore. I thought I might be, so when you went to the last game I went and bought a test. I was going to take, but I just didn’t want to do it without you.”

He swiftly picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. He sets you on your feet and sets the test on the counter before bringing your lips in for another deep passionate kiss. When he pulls away his lips are plump, he places a quick kiss on your forehead “pee babe” he says as he closes the door causing you to laugh.

A few minutes later you sit on the bed beside Fred, his hand resting on your thigh while he taps his leg impatiently. For the past couple days’ time has gone slow while you thought you could be pregnant, so many times you wanted to just blurt it out. It took so much energy to not ruin what you thought would be an amazing Christmas present.

While you have struggled to get through those days without telling him, the last few minutes have been even worse. Normally the nervous tapping of Fred’s leg would bother you, but in this moment you barely notice as you wait for your timer to go off.

Finally you hear the sound, which causes Fred to stop tapping his thigh as he squeezes yours tightly. He looks at you before rising and pulling you to the bathroom.

“Ready babe” he asks as you nod. He eyes to the test telling you to look at it, but you just shake your head “you look” you say to him. He reaches for it and flips it over looking at him, facial expression not changing. He continues to stare at it processing the results.

Your heart sinks, if it was pregnant Fred would have reacted by now. When giving him the test you were worried about ruining Christmas with a negative result, but you honestly believed you were. You had all the signs and symptoms. Maybe you were actually sick and your period was late because of stress.

Finally Fred flips the test for you to see the screen and you stare at it; Pregnant is displayed on the screen.

He immediately picks you up spinning you around before you wrap your legs around him bringing your lips to his. He slowly walks to the bed and gently places you on the bed removing your shirt placing soft kisses on your stomach.

“I can’t believe it" he says rubbing your stomach “we have a baby in here.”

A smile crosses your face as you stroke his hair “I know babe, we’re having another baby.”

“God, I hope it’s a little girl who looks just like you and has your personality.”

“You’d be wrapped around her finger before she is even born" you laugh.

“How could I not be?” he says kissing your stomach.

“Maybe it’s another boy. Another miniature Fred. Our first one turned out pretty perfect” you say to him.

“Yeah he did" he is still rubbing your stomach. “Either way I don’t care, I’m just so happy to have another baby with you.”

A large smile spreads across your face “I know I can’t believe our family is growing. I’m so excited.”

You stroke his head, while he continues to rub and kiss your stomach. Fred moves towards your chest, pulling your bra down to suck on your nipple. You wrap your legs around Fred’s waist as he spends the next few hours bringing multiple orgasms over you with his mouth and hands; before finally making love to you, twice. 

House Inspiration:

Next Chapter

[ghosttotheparty]

something underneath these lights

ao3

Lucas’s fingers loosen around his arms as he watches Kes and Jayden disappear, weaving around and between people dancing until Lucas can’t see them anymore. He almost loses sight of them before they’re gone, both in dark shirts, blending in in between flashes of pulsing blue and pink and purple lights. Lucas doesn’t remember how they said goodbye, doesn’t remember if it was a Later, dude, or a Bye, Luc, or maybe a Fuck you, man in response to his unresponsiveness the whole evening.

He doesn’t know what his problem is tonight.

It’s like there’s a fog in his brain. Everything seems slow, especially him. He doesn’t react to much that happens, to Kes’s or Jayden’s jokes, doesn’t respond to their questions about the girls around them. (How many questions they asked, he doesn’t know either.) Take slow, small sips from his beer, which he doesn’t finish, he finds himself zoning out, too many times to keep count, his eyes locked on a random bottle on a table, on spot on the wall, on a light pulsating and flashing. It’s like he’s watching everything through a virtual reality console, like nothing is really happening. When Jayden asks, “What’s your problem, dude?” with his brows drawn down, a hand tossed in the air, frustrated, it takes a second (or five) for Lucas to respond, a gentle shrug with a blank face.

A part of him feel badly, even though he knows he can’t help it. He knows it’s not his fault. Most of his just feels lonely. He doesn’t even know how he would begin to explain it to his friends.

But none of his friends are here now. He looks down at the table and sees that there isn’t anything on it, his own beer bottle in his hand, the dark fake wood of the table marked with wet circles, glinting under the lights. He wonders if they’ll be back, if they went out for a smoke, if they left in anger and would be back later. The thought makes him anxious, not knowing, but at the same time, he doesn’t care.

The music is loud, but he doesn’t really process it. It sounds garbled, pulsing beats of bass blending together. He doesn’t understand the lyrics.

He takes a deep breath, looking away from the table to the ceiling, to the walls, to the ground, to the crowd of people dancing. There’s a group of girls dancing together, all of them obviously tipsy, laughing as they spill splashed of drinks out of their plastic cups. Lucas smiles softly to himself, lifting the bottle and taking a sip. One of them has on a dark, mesh shirt, and Lucas has half a mind to cross the floor and ask where she got it. Not that he’d ever wear it. Not out at least, not in front of people he knows. It’s the kind of shirt he’d wear late at night in his room alone, to take pictures in, only to delete them later. The kind of shirt he’d wear under a hoodie that he’d take off after entering a bar he’s certain no one he knows would be at. The kind of shirt he’d hide at the bottom his drawers, the back of his wardrobe. The kind of shirt he loves. He gazes at the girl, dancing and singing with her friends, in envy for a second before looking away.

His eyes scan the crowd before catching on someone. For a second, he thinks he recognises him. But he’s never seen him before.

He’s beautiful, Lucas thinks go himself, watching him dance, swaying in time with the music that Lucas is only just beginning to really hear. His hair falls across his forehead in a gentle swoop, his eyes shut as he moves, his lips parted as he mouths along with the music.

Oh.

Lucas sets the bottle on the table, turning to face the boy, watching him in wonder.

There you are.

The boy’s body turns in Lucas’s direction slightly, and his eyes drift open, his eyes glasses over, looking around the room aimlessly. Lucas watches him still, moving to the edge of his seat, suddenly feeling more solid, more real, than he’s felt all night.

A jolt goes through his body when he realises the boy’s eyes are locked with his, the boy’s shoulders still swaying, his eyes still glassy and shining, reflecting the neon lights. He gives Lucas a half-smile, a slight, familiar smile that Lucas almost recognises. Lucas smiles back, and the boy jerks his head, beckoning him into the crowd, and Lucas’s smile grows as he pushes himself up, forgetting his beer exists, forgetting his worries about his friends, forgetting everything except this boy and his eyes.

Lucas is standing in front of him, just a few inches away, swaying along with him, grinning and the boy raises his eyebrows, his eyes travelling up and down Lucas’s body, his tongue slipping across his bottom lip. Lucas lets himself go. He lets himself dance, the way he has always wanted to when attending parties, the way he never allowed himself to. He twirls when the boy reaches out and grabs his hand, pulling it above his head and spinning him. Lucas can hear him laugh over the music and it makes his heart sing.

Lucas’s eyes close at some point, still smiling as they move together, Lucas’s back pressed against his chest, the boy’s hands against his waist before slipping down his arms, their fingers twisting around around each other.

When they’re facing each other again, the boy leans down, pressing his cheek to Lucas’s so his mouth is close to his ear, and Lucas’s chest tightens, his heart nearly palpitating.

“What’s your name?” the boy asks, loud enough for Lucas to hear over the music.

Lucas almost laughs, remembering that they don’t know each other, so comfortable with him that it feels as though they’ve known each other for years.

“Lucas,” he responds, and the boy pulls his head away, lifting Lucas’s hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Lucas’s smile (which hasn’t gone away since they made eye contact) (he’s smiled more in the past few minutes than he’s smiled all day) grows.

“I’m Jens,” he says, lifting his head back up, and his lips brush Lucas’s ear. He pulls back, looking into Lucas’s eyes, and Lucas looks back. He notices a mole next to his eye, and he suppressed the urge to reach out and touch it. (As well as the urge to run his fingers through his hair. It looks soft.) Everything about him feels so familiar.

“Where are you from?” Lucas asks.

“Antwerp.” His eyes are reflecting the lights of the club, purple and blue against dark brown that looks black. “Belgium.”

Lucas nods.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Here, the club, or here, Utrecht?” Jens asks, a smile playing at his lips.

Lucas rolls his eyes.

“Both.”

Jens looks back at him, looking like he’s pondering the question.

“Dunno.”

“Have we met before?” Lucas asks, almost shouting so Jens can hear him, even though he knows they haven’t. Jens laughs, and Lucas marvels at the way the corners of his eyes crinkle up.

“Not in this life.”

Lucas grins, and Jens’s fingers brush his. He spreads his fingers, letting Jens’s entwine with his, not breaking eye contact until Jens’s tongue sweeps across his bottom lip again. Lucas scans his face again, taking in every detail that makes him looks like a fucking painting. He notices a tiny gold hoop earring glinting under the light and he lets go of one of Jens’s hands, reaching up and touching it gently.

The music keeps playing around them, people keep dancing and laughing and talking, but neither of them are paying attention anymore. Their bodies have stopped moving, the slight swaying slowing to a stop until they stand unmoving surrounded by a bustling, dancing crowd. Lucas’s hand slips into his hair, messing with it for a second, smiling fondly and Jens’s eyes flick back and forth between his, before sliding his hand down to his neck.

“I know you,” he says, softly, almost to himself, and Jens leans down slightly, lifting a hand and placing it on Lucas’s waist, tugging him closer as Lucas pulls at his neck until their lips crash together.

Lucas gasps, his hand tightening on Jens’s neck, and Jens lets go of his hand, grabbing his waist and pulling his closer as his teeth close on Lucas’s bottom lip. Jens’s hands clutch at the small of his back and Lucas slides his own hands up to his hair, pulling when Jens’s tongue slips into his mouth, tasting sweet.

When they finally pull away, seconds or minutes or hours later, Jens is smiling broadly, his eyes still closed. Lucas slips his hands to his face, gently brushing over his cheekbones, gently touching the mole next to his eyes, smiling as he presses his palms to Jens’s cheeks, pulls him in and kisses him again.

“Is it weird to say I’m in love with a guy I met twenty minutes ago?” Jens asks loudly when they part, furrowing his brows and cocking his head, and Lucas laughs out loud, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him quickly.

“A little bit, yeah,” he says, and Jens begins to sway again, moving in time with the music Lucas has forgotten about.

Lucas forgets about other things too.

He forgets about his friends, forgets about how lonely he feels even sitting at the same table as them. He forgets about the slowness of the world and his mind, about everything that worries him, everything that scares him. Everything important and unimportant. He forgets that his friends might still be in the same club at this moment, watching him dance with a kiss a boy, that he might have to explain to them. (Although he doesn’t know what or how he would explain. But he doesn’t worry about it.)

Jens wraps his arms around Lucas’s waist and pull him in closer, rocking back and forth as Lucas presses a kiss to him cheek, closing his eyes and rocking with him, like they’re slow dancing. Somehow he knows that Jens’s eyes are closed too. His arms tighten around his neck, feeling Jens’s breath on his collarbone and shivering slightly even in the heat of the crowded club, feeling like Jens needs this just as much as he does.

He still feels the way he did before, still detached, still slow. But he’s never felt so real.

[shesdangerace]

I learned from my pain

Happy belated Valentine’s Day! Tumblr hates us all and might make this super hard to post here SO. I’m going to post as much of it as I can, and if you like it, you can check it out on AO3 (also linked at the end). I now present to you, a very Andrew Minyard Valentine’s Day. -

He remembers the colour of the sky outside the window.

He remembers the tree branch swaying in front of the glass.

He remembers the breeze that day.

He remembers the hands, the quiet, the pleading.

AJ’s first Valentine’s Day.

Andrew’s eyes feel heavy.

Allison gave Renee roses today, a question written out in cursive with a kiss on the end. Matt was talking about his plans in the locker room. Nicky has been beside himself thinking of Erik coming to visit.

Andrew is leaning outside of his open mesh-free window trying not to think. Cigarette burning down in his hand.

Andrew never got asked. Andrew never got elaborate plans. Andrew never got giddy anticipation. At least, not his own.

And now, he doesn’t want those things. Can’t want them. Doesn’t see a point in them.

It always came at a price, is the thing. And it was never enough.

Love meant crying without making a sound so she wouldn’t know. Love meant bleeding so his twin wouldn’t have to. Love meant throwing away the chance of it. Love meant cut brakes.

That was the love he was taught anyway, when his ‘family’ told them they loved him as they crept into his room at night, asking Do you love me? Do you love me?

Andrew was taught that love was cruelty. Pain. Bloodshed. A blind eye. Vengeance. Sacrifice. Loss. Responsibility. More bloodshed. He never knew what love was meant to feel like.

And now all Andrew knows how to feel is nothing.

There’s a knock on the door frame, firm and assured.

“Hey. Time for practice.”

Neil, standing there like a memory of a different life. Auburn and dressed all in grey.

The cigarette falls slowly from Andrews’ hand, swaying back and forth by the light February wind until it touches the ground of the car park below like a distant feather.

-

The cheerleaders are here. They’re being loud and it’s unnecessary.

Andrew doesn’t know why the cheerleaders are here. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. It matters that they are and that they’re being loud.

She’s here too, of course. She’s also a cheerleader after all. Not quite so loud though.

That may be because while Andrew is not looking at her, he’s looking at Aaron, and Aaron is looking at her. He’s willing to bet she’s looking back.

Aaron looks happy. Wistful. Awed almost. Where did he learn that? How did he manage to learn how to feel like that?

Andrew doesn’t look at him.

He hits balls and waves his heavyweight stick around for hours, while Kevin yells and Neil cusses out the baby Foxes and Nicky laughs like a demented hyena and Aaron feels all over the court floor.

Andrew doesn’t look at him.

And then Katelyn comes wafting over, blonde ponytail bouncing and hands wringing and smile matching the quiet one on Aaron’s face. A smile Andrew has no clue how to replicate on his own. And then she asks him, and he grins at her and says yes, obviously, and then she kisses him on the cheek and giggles and her ponytail bounces away.

Andrew tilts his head away and doesn’t look at him.

He looks at Neil. He doesn’t really have a choice.

He’s standing right in front of Andrews line of sight, close but not close enough to touch Andrew, smirk almost as sharp as his eyes. Batting his eyelashes like an idiot, hands wringing and toe nudging against the floor.

“Be my Valentine sugar plum?”

That cocky smile, that exaggerated posture, that orange bandana, that mess of hair, that shock of bright blue, that stupid, stupid idiot.

“Fuck off.”

Neil just laughs, that huff of gentle sound, and Andrew looks at him and can’t seem to stop. And Neil can’t seem to either, looking right back, smile just strong enough to bring out the subtle dimple on his right cheek.

How did he learn that?

How did he learn to dimple like that from bruises? How did he learn to look at Andrew like that from a lifetime of running? How did he learn to laugh for Andrew after knives and cleavers and flames and irons?

Andrew just looks at him.

Neils’ hands on his Exy stick are strong and unwavering and deliberate. Careful. Reverent.

Andrew just looks at him.

---

It’s two days before Valentine’s Day.

They’re at the coffee stand. The three of them have classes in 15 minutes but no one cares. Neil stands beside him, staring as disinterestedly as Andrew.

It’s pink. It’s stupid. There’s large lettering in altering colours of red, green, and yellow. There’s three black silhouettes like bathroom door signs. A red cross. A green heart. A yellow question mark. A lot of pink. It’s a poster.

It’s a traffic light party.

“Neil please, come on, it’s literally perfect and you’re the only one who can convince him.”

Andrew thinks about the colour red.

“No.”

It’s so vicious and ugly, so glaring, a screaming no that Andrew has had painted on his hands and his lips and his skin for years now.

“Neeeeil come on!”

Andrew has been red for a long time.

“Nicky, you have a long-term partner. Why would you need to go to this?”

Neil sounds tired. Neil is right to be.

“But Neil, that’s the point. Not only do I get to declare myself as taken, I get to show off my hot German husband.”

Red is not as simple as a t-shirt or a badge. It’s sticky and it festers and it stains like dye and you don’t get to change your mind once it’s on you.

“You know you haven’t even asked him to marry you yet right?”

Green is an unrealistic colour. It’s bright where red is dark, joyous like red is angry. A garish neon sign declaring yes. Yes, I’m here and I’m alive and I’m okay and I fucking want this.

Andrew doesn’t think he could ever be green having been red.

“Fuck you, Neil. It’s understood, it’s an inevitability, and the world needs to know!”

Green can start pure and be muddled and abused until it’s ugly and brown enough to be red anyway.

“The world does know. You’ve been talking about him non-stop for days. It’s annoying.”

There’s a coffee cup in his hands. When did that get there? Latte, caramel and vanilla. Neil’s name is written on it.

“Okay, can we please get back to the point? Which is the party? And that we should go?”

The sun is out today, and there’s no breeze. The skies are clear and still. Neil is walking beside Andrew, staring at him under his lashes every now and then as Nicky pleads his case. He’s walking close enough to Andrew that Andrew could touch him if he asked.

He’s wearing yellow. It’s a logo, on his grey hoodie. The drawstrings are yellow. Bright, like the sun. Hopeful.

After a while, after Baltimore and Riko and several screaming panic attacks in department store changing rooms with Allison’s guilty voice over the phone, Neil started to touch colour. Gentle prods, careful explorations.

He has an emerald green shirt now. Long sleeves. He has several Fox-orange articles of clothing that he wears in the dorm, the house, or with Andrew around campus. He has accents of colours on his shirts or his hoodie or his hat in the winter.

He has no blue brighter than navy. He has no red either.

Today, he is quietly yellow. Sipping his black coffee with one sugar and studiously ignoring Nicky in favour of watching Andrew ignore Nicky.

When Andrew asks and Neil says yes, in an alcove five minutes late to class, his fingers wind their way into those sunshine yellow drawstrings. He swears it stains his fingertips just a little.

-

Nicky is singing. A little bit drunk, a lot off key. It’s pop music and it’s incessantly loud. He got a phone call half an hour before. He did not take it well.

Erik has to stay in Germany for another day. A despondent Nicky had explained to them, and Kevin, that this means he’ll be flying in on Valentine’s Day instead of tomorrow, and this means that he’ll miss most of their first Valentine’s Day together in forever and Kevin would you please pay attention?

“Fuck men, seriously, Ari is so right you know? She just fucking gets it like, she understands and you know what I mean right Neil? Back me up Neil.”

Neil is in no condition to be anyone’s back up. He’s wrapped up in the embrace of the beanbag chair next to Andrew’s and he’s exasperated and exhausted. Nightmares. Not Andrew’s this time. The yellow was a particularly bold a choice today. But Neil is smirking in amusement all the same.

“Thank you, more like no thank you sir- “

In the corner, Matt is trying to film discreetly. On the couch, Kevin is paying absolutely no attention, waiting for his phone to ring.

As Nicky dances to the same song over and over, and Kevin bolts out of the room to answer Thea’s call, and Matt fails at discretion, and Neil radiates sleepy warmth next to Andrew like a furnace, Nicky bleeds.

He’s haemorrhaging love, the good and the bad and the ugly need of it. With the clarity of experience and many Wednesday sessions Andrew can see it. He can see the dark edges of Nicky, the sadness underneath his exuberance, his pain. He sees Nicky’s own sharp memories poking out from beneath his grin.

When he looks back at Neil, he sees the same understanding in those perceptive blue eyes.

It’s not about some pointless day in February. It’s about months without him. It’s about not knowing love without pain before him. It’s about conditions and fear and confusion and self-loathing and conversion. It’s about finally getting to hold someone’s hand knowing that he’s safe.

“I’m just saying I’m a fucking catch and I don’t deserve this, and you know what?”

Nicky stops here, stares at Neil balefully, then at Andrew, then back to Neil, gesturing with his whole body for the peanut gallery to speak.

Neil sighs and gives in.

“What Nicky?”

“I’ll tell you what Neil! I’m so fucking ungrateful for this treatment! That’s what.”

He trips.

And then, from his pile of slumped limbs and tired bones, Neil laughs. A true sound, a warm rich low sound.

Something in Andrew stutters for a moment. And then Nicky is throwing himself at Neil.

Nicky with his explosive love. Neil gifting his affection in laughs and smiles where there used to be none. Kevin breaking his single-minded devotion at the drop of a hat when Thea calls. Matt texting all the videos to Dan no doubt. All of them, loving each other out loud.

Andrew closes his eyes.

Nicky haemorrhages for hours.

---

It’s the day before Valentine’s Day. They’re at the traffic light party.

Nicky is bright red in the face from dancing, bright red in the face from alcohol, bright red in his shirt. He’s smiling almost as wide as he was when Andrew loomed over him in the locker room and said they were going.

Neil is wearing a black and neon-orange hoodie because he lives to be contrary and confusing. Andrew is wearing black because so does he.

The music is loud enough that Andrew almost can’t hear his thoughts. Almost. But of course, Andrew could never be so lucky, nor could Neil be so merciful.

The lights of the club are passing over his face like real traffic lights, sharpening and softening his face and colouring his eyes different shades. They could almost be in the Maserati, driving a touch too fast, Neil looking out of the passenger window, lounging like he belongs, smiling softly at Andrew’s reflection under the cover of night.

But they’re not. Neil is standing there like a living, breathing fuck you, glaring down anyone who gets too close, staring blankly at those who mistake his orange for yellow and then laughing to himself when they scuttle away. He looks gloriously alive, and completely unreal.

They’ve lost Nicky.

Neil looks at Andrew, really looks at him. Face like a storm.

The music gets improbably louder. Bass heavy. Rumbling. Growling.

Neils eyes get impossibly darker, his face impossibly sharper, his presence impossibly brighter.

He raises his eyebrow at Andrew.

Are you red or yellow or green?

Andrew steps closer and hooks his fingers into Neil’s collar.

Neil takes him by the edge of his black denim jacket, turns away, and Andrew follows the glowing shape of him through the thick crowd of sweat and mistakes.

By the time they reach the wall in the corner Andrew’s vision is all traffic lights and neon and storms.

Neil leans his head back against the wall, the bass louder still. He smirks at Andrew, but his eyes betray him and it becomes a smile. Warm and mischievous and foolhardy. He tilts his chin up at Andrew.

“So does black mean you’re taken?”

Andrew doesn’t dignify this with a response, just breathes.

“Should I take that as a yes or a no?”

Aside from the sharp roll of his eyes, Andrew doesn’t respond to this either.

“Andrew. Yes or no?”

Neil isn’t joking anymore. His eyes are softer than they have any right to be in lighting this sharp and dangerous. He’s searching, he’s already accepted Andrew’s answer.

The growling, rumbling bass around them is eclipsed by Andrew’s own growling yes, Neil’s lips brushing his like a promise. Neil kisses him like he’s desperate, not for his own sake but for Andrew’s. Like he’s been waiting. Like he just wants Andrew to know that Neil is there. Like he just wants Andrew. Whatever that means at any given time.

Right now Andrew doesn’t know what it means.

Neil tastes like midnight. And that makes no sense and it’s fucking stupid.

The lights are still flashing but the bass is different when Neil leans his head back against the wall. For some reason Andrew follows, can’t seem not to, rests his forehead against Neil’s. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, and neither does Andrew.

And then.

“Andrew, can I hold your hand?”

It’s a wonder Andrew hears him over the sound of this stupid party. Andrew says yes because honestly, he’s mildly curious to know what happens next.

Neil’s hand is warm. Firm. Scarred and unafraid and gentle and soft and calloused and it holds Andrew’s so tenderly. Like a rose and not a thorn.

Andrew doesn’t understand it and doesn’t understand why he doesn’t understand it because it shouldn’t be complicated. He doesn’t understand how Neil can look at him and feel. Because he so clearly does and Andrew can’t seem to hide from it.

Are you red or yellow or green or –

“Fuck, there you guys are! Come dance with me!”

And Nicky grabs Neil’s hand and pulls and Neil, as sharp and observant and devoted to his Foxes as he is, would never say no.

---

Andrew wakes up slowly and way too late in the day, to see Neil still asleep. His face is half crushed into his pillow, eyebrows relaxed, hair skewed in every direction like hellfire. His mouth is soft in sleep, his cheeks flushed with warmth.

There’s something so different about Neil when he sleeps.

When he’s awake, Neil is all winter stillness, observant and contrary and dramatic. Ferocious and disinterested and loyal. Loose and honest when Andrew kisses him. Defiantly, viscerally alive.

When he sleeps he is just as still, but unguarded and vulnerable. Almost awake almost always. Soft and quiet, warm like a summer morning.

The February sun is streaming in through the dorm room window, and the sky is clear and crystal blue.

Nicky is beside himself with excitement outside the dorm room somewhere. Eriks’ flight lands that afternoon.

Because it’s Valentine’s Day.

It’s also a Saturday and that’s much more meaningful to Andrew. It means he’s not missing anything Kevin can annoy him for.

Eventually, Neil’s eyes open, and he sniffles at Andrew like a kitten.

It’s so rare to see Neil so taken with sleep. Andrew doesn’t often see this, Neil all strung out on the feeling of being only half awake, soft and malleable like taffy.

Andrew sighs and asks quietly:

“No nightmares?”

And Neil smiles, and that dimple is back on his right cheek. Such a rare sight indeed in February. And to have seen it twice already is almost hard to believe.

“No nightmares.”

Andrew nods.

Neil edges closer, just the tiniest bit. He’s almost nose to nose with Andrew, and Andrew is almost there. He’s on the precipice of something.

One of the worst things about being Andrew Minyard is that apathy makes feeling almost painful and hard to ignore. Andrew has no choice; he can’t lie and he can’t hide and he can’t run and for some god forsaken reason he doesn’t particularly feel the need to.

He gives, and lets himself feel the warmth of Neil. He whispers his name in the scarce air between them, and kisses him. Soft. Unyielding. Bee would be so proud if he would ever tell her.

Neil whispers right back. Kisses right back. Runs his fingertips between Andrew’s on the sheets without touching them. Andrew nods his answer and he feels Neil all around him like the winter sun. Sharp and painful and bright and vital.

Neil is awake, and so is Andrew.

---

At sunset, everything in the Maserati is cast in purple and blue and pink. Neil is lounging like he belongs, smiling at Andrew’s reflection in the glass of the passenger seat window. He looks dreamlike, like he’s feeling that feeling Andrew can’t name.

He turns to Andrew and asks. Andrew says yes and then Neil is holding his hand. He grins at Andrew and for fucks sake. How can he look at Andrew with that much feeling? Who was it that taught him how to feel it at all?

The sounds of the road echo in Andrews ears, the sounds of Nicky’s happy crying from a couple hours earlier in Erik’s arms, Neil’s laugh, his cutting remarks, his questions. Neil’s lips brush Andrew’s hands like a prayer and it’s possible somehow.

Somehow, despite all reasoning and logical experience, it’s possible that Andrew is capable of more than nothing.

When he tells Neil this, laying in the grass off the highway in the last rays of purple light, the look in his eyes and the depth of his kiss are evidence enough.

ao3

[jwally00]

Fieldwork #2

Clothing & Apparel

Shirts (45) ~ $120: Need. I obviously need shirts because i go out in public and work out so i need shirts for different occasions

Socks (20 ~ $100: Need. Floors are very cold and prevent wearing down the inside of shoes

Undergarments (25) ~$220: Need. Only very expensive because of particular sports bras i get from Australia. According to some I'm “lucky”

Bottoms (23) ~$400: Need. Lots of thick pants and workout clothes. Being an athlete in a cold weather area isn't fun

Shoes (15) ~$400: Want/Need. I have more pair of shoes than I need however not by much. I have more street shoes than i need but occasional shoes i have the right amount

Sweaters/Hoodies (15) ~$225: Need. Coming from a dominantly warm climate state my body isn't accustomed to ridiculously cold weather so i need to stack hoodies

“Jewelry” (4) ~ $4: Want. Just thought they were cute

Fanny pack ~$28: Want. It was tax free day i not every occasion requires an entire backpack

Bandana (2) ~ $2: Need. Keep my face warm when it's cold and sweat and hair out of my eyes doing exercise

Gloves ~ $20: Need. Keeps my hands warm

Earmuffs ~ $2: Need. Keeps my ears warm

Hats (3) (Free): Want. Keeps my head warm but I have hoodies for that

Glasses ~ $4: Want. Adds a little bit of flare to an outfit

Electronics

Alarm Clock ~ $10: Need. Don't trust my phone to wake me up for practice every morning

Samsung Galaxy S8 ~ $500: Want. I believe i need a phone but it doesn't have to be this particular phone

Calculator ~ $110: Need. Required for a math class

Bluetooth earphones ~ $150: Want. Was a gift from my mother but aren't needed

Surface pro 3 ~ $800: Need. Being an athlete, sometimes i have to do assignments on the road so a computer is needed

IPad ~ $60: Want. Games and tv

Personal hygiene

Deodorant (2) ~ $12: Need. To keep my armpits dry when out and about

Toothbrush (2) ~ $2: Need. Keep my teeth healthy

Toothpaste (2) ~ $5: Need. Keep my teeth and breath healthy

Razor (4) ~ $25: Want. Although you don't necessarily need to be shaven it's still a vanity thing i choose to partake in

Nail file ~ $2: Need. Keep my nails smooth to keep them from cutting myself or others

Nail clippers ~ $3: Need. Keep my nails at a reasonable length so they don't break on their own causing pain in my toes

Blackhead tool ~ $3: Want. Not a big fan of acne

Body spray (2) ~ $8: Want. Just a little something extra to smell good after a shower or before going out

Lotion ~ $6: Need. Nobody wants to be ashy especially when it's cold outside because it could lead to cracked and bleeding skin

Body wash ~ $12: Need. I'm an athlete so i'm always sweating and working out so I need to shower and body wash cleans my body

Wash cloth ~ $2: Need. It's easier to spread body wash with a washcloth than with hands

Neutrogena bar ~ $4: Need. Serves as face wash to prevent acne and is good for gentle skin

Off! Spray ~ $4: Need. Keeps bugs away

Sunscreen ~ $4: Need. Prevents sunburn

Towel (4) ~ $12: Need. Probably don't need as many but is excellent cover when going from shower to dorm room and is great at drying

Pads ~ $10: Need. I'm a woman...enough said.

School Supplies

Backpack ~ $25: Need. Holds all of my school supplies and items i need to carry throughout the day

Paper (250) ~ $3: Need. Used for writing down important information

Pencils (7) ~ $5: Need. Used to write important information

Pens (2) ~ $5: Need. Some teachers prefer when pen is used instead of pencil, especially for essays

Eraser ~ $1: Need. Allows me to fix mistakes made in pencil

Whiteout ~ $1: Need. Allows me to fix mistakes made in pen

Stapler (2) ~ $15: Want. I can conveniently staple papers and essays together

Folder ~ $1: Need. Helps me keep track of important papers and handouts

5 subject Notebook ~ $10: Need. For note taking for all of my subjects and frees up space in my backpack

Sharpie ~ $3: Need. For writing my inspiration doing tennis matches

Hair

Spray bottle (2) ~ $9: Want. Convenient for when I'm doing my hair and don't want to get into the shower or go to the bathroom to wet my hair

Shampoo & Conditioner (2) ~ $35: Need. Clean and revitalize my hair

Hair masque ~ $7: Want. Hair treatment to add strength and protection to hair

Eco gel (2) ~ $32: Need. Keeps my curls defined and moisture locked into my hair and scalp

Argan oil ~ $6: Need. Adds moisture to hair

Aphogee spray ~ $5: Want. Adds a little extra shine and hold when hair is clean and styled

Denman brush ~ $10: Need. Detangles hair after washing and prevents matting

Rattail comb (2) ~ $10: Need. Separates hair

Laundry

Tide pods (70) ~ $13: Need. For washing dirty clothes

Color catchers (60) ~ $7: Need. So i can wash multi colored clothes at the same time.

dirty clothes hamper ~ $10: Need. Place to put all of my dirty clothes so they're not everywhere

mesh bag ~ $4: Need. For transporting clean clothes from laundry room to dorm room

Miscellaneous

water bottle (2) ~ $40: Need. For when i play tennis and workout

cup ~ $3: Need. For tea when i'm having throat problems

bed set ~ $30: Need. Can't just sleep on a mattress, that's how backs are messed up

Shower caddy ~ $4: Need. Necessary to hold all the necessities for my shower

Bowl ~ $1: Need. Excellent for cereal, soups, and food of that nature

Forks & spoons (70) ~ $3: Want. Whenever I eat things in my room. I don't have to eat in my room but when i do i use plasticware.

Icy hot ~ $5: Need. I'm an athlete and when there's no ice or heating pad available you gotta make it work

While completing this assignment, I have learned that the vast majority of what i have in my room are needed. The few “wants” that i have are not very expensive and those that are were gifts from family. These typically fall under electronics. The shoes are something that i have on multiple occasions bought for myself because my feet are very important to me, as i'm on them all of the time so I try to take care of them and make sure they're comfortable at all times.

[royallypsychotic]

Balenciaga Bags For Women Sale

Season after season, 12 months after yr, Balenciaga heads the style “It Bag” list. Long-running hits like the City Bag have made the brand a mainstay of the secondary market. So if you’re a collector who finds your self ready to move on—perhaps to the latest model of the Balenciaga Hourglass Bag—there’s no higher time to sell Balenciaga baggage. Read on, to learn the way to parlay the bag you already personal into the bag you need to own. Balenciaga's status for haute couture with creative flair is unmatched and imbues Balenciaga handbags with the bold genius which characterized the model's founder. The original, known as the Balenciaga Le Dix Motorcycle Bag, is the inspiration behind numerous shapes and silhouettes in varrying sizes and a myriad of colours and prints. The longevity of the Balenciaga Motorcycle Bag, in all its iterations, is actually astonishing as the basis of this design remains to be getting used to this present day, practically 20 years later. Since its debut, Bal's moto baggage have been toted by everybody from distinguished style editors, celebs and bag-obsessed Balenciaga fans. Instantly recognizable by their details, Balenciaga's baggage scream Balenciaga with no emblem in sight . The label’s Arena sneakers, Knife boots and City bag are wardrobe must-haves to maintain you forward of the style pack. The Balenciaga label is synonymous with luxury, so it's no shock that this gorgeous collection of Balenciaga baggage for ladies is oozing a chic, European allure. Sharp clear traces and a striking selection of supplies and hues be sure that this stunning range stands out from the crowd. These premium equipment were made for the confident and sophisticated fashion-follower, that's why each Balenciaga bag obtainable at Stylight maintains this trend-setting label's standards of excellence. You can also select a bag with a nontraditional shape, just like the triangle bag. 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Today, the House of Balenciaga is still an influential brand that gives purses, shoes, equipment, and a ready-to-wear collection. Years later, Gvasalia decided to channel this "good instance of ready-made" right into a leather-based luxury bag. Our variety is huge in terms of the treasure that we now have in the type of luxury items. We have accent items from a majority of the top designers underneath one roof which makes it all the harder for you to not find one thing that you will completely fall in love with. So, in case you are somebody who is bent over to get themselves products from the world-renowned luxury brands, that is the best place for you to be at this moment. You will discover a wide range of objects ranging from sneakers to baggage and so many more in different value brackets. We not solely have the brand-new articles, but also the preowned one’s which only just provides to what you could get for yourself from us. Our motto here is to by no means compromise, be it the articles we're offering you or the providers that you avail from us. Best Rep Balenciaga Sneakers For Cheap The counterfeit one, though, is more agency and stiff. The front facet of the insole, which isn’t seen on the comparison beneath, has a Balenciaga emblem printed on it. If you'll have the ability to, examine that brand for any inconsistencies and flaws, then flip it on the again side. As you probably can guess, it is also as a end result of lace being constructed differently. The genuine is dense, created from a lot of tiny threads tightly squeezed together, while the pretend is made from greater threads with much less density. The first obvious distinction you might discover is that this sew is far bigger and extra noticeable on the replica Balenciaga Triple S. The actual product has this stitch well hidden and nearly not noticeable in any respect. This Balenciaga sneakerhas even stitches on its physique. 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It was also essential that we choose finest replica jewelry shops that solely supply certified and conflict-free diamonds. Also, the final “A” letter is this time truly too arched on the replica Balenciaga Triple S pair, whereas the legit one appears to be less angled. Besides this, the alignment of the text is also incorrect on the fake tag. It should be to begin with, smaller, and, second of all, centered in the course of the tag. Obviously, the colour of this a part of the sole will change depending on your colourway on the pretend Balenciaga Triple S pairs. depurses balenciaga This Balenciaga bag is lightweight so it does not embrace the burden of those essentials you are taking in this. In addition, you shouldn’t use the shoulder strap choice if you’re carrying a good deal, because the leather-based drops at the very bottom, so the top handle must be the taste on this situation. Yep, the luxurious label is on to something…and their Pearl and Brass Clutch isn't the sort you must mess with. It exudes so much class and class, amidst its seemingly intimidating structure that’s so out-of-this world. You’re gonna gain so much trend points for sporting this baby. The high quality replica pairs are pretty a lot as good as the unique Balenciaga. Check the similarities of the replica Balenciagaand the unique pairs as I actually have highlighted beneath. Unfortunately, being the excessive end sneakers that they are, they're obviously costly.Balenciaga is a high-end brand and their merchandise are expensive. Many would want to save up or even spend an enormous sum of their saving just to own these pairs, reality be informed. The genuine shoe is thicker on the heel and has a distinct shape with slight bump/curve. The inauthentic mannequin, nonetheless, has the same texture as the the rest of the shoe, thus slightly caving in. Apart from that, discover that the real one has a gap on the backside, whereas the pretend Balenciaga Triple S lacks it. Rerplica Balenciaga Handbags,Cheap Balenciaga Baggage Sale,replica Balenciaga Low Cost Luggage We will continue to replace this article as higher and newer comparisons are put out. As for the ninth and the last step of our actual vs fake Balenciaga Track comparison information, we’ve ready the field label. As you'll have the ability to see in the fake vs actual Balenciaga Track photos that we’ve linked above, it's simple to notice how the faux Balenciaga Track pair has its laces looking creased up, while the authentic laces are smoother. Now, let’s also go on to the aspect of the Balenciaga Track sneakers and analyze the embossing on the cage of the true vs faux Balenciaga Track sneakers. As you'll be able to see within the fake vs actual Balenciaga Track sneakers footage above, the replica Balenciaga Track pair has the traces of stitching that we’ve pointed out looking much less visible. The tassels that are related to the zippers must be as soft because the bag. Looking at the fake bag, the zipper is clearly low high quality metallic. Before I bring down the curtain on this article, I may even let you know the place to purchase top quality Balenciaga bag replicas. I will information you through purchasing on Primestuff and how one can make the shop your trusted wholesale supplier. In the busy tempo of life, with the practicality of a strong, full of retro-style motorcycle bag, trendy women each year, but most favourite selection. This 12 months, the bike bag is still feeling its playful attracted a large quantity of artists and numerous girls stroll in the forefront of trend favor. As lengthy as the character is cool or comparatively lively individuals are capable of easily discover a suitable color. If you proceed to have doubts, make a really feel for yourself and feel pure – if the bag crackles, this isn't a great signal. Especially with models such as the Balenciaga Motorcylce Bag, you need to pay close attention to the handles. Are braided or braided with a leather known as “Sueded Leather” at Balenciaga. In my evaluation, I will compare different aspects of the bag telling you the genuine ones. This fall and winter Replica Fendi Bags injected a model new design into the KAN U bag, creating a wonderful new trend for women’s put on again. One of the model new KAN U is especially based mostly on the design of the mesh material, the creative cutout design on the cowhide leather-based. Don’t look at this bag seems small, but it is actually tremendous fit, plus the steadiness of its form is actually not deformed. Let’s move to the laces of the Balenciaga Track sneakers, and analyze the errors on the fake pairs. As you’ve in all probability seen on the principle part of Balenciaga’s sneakers, their pairs have the European size number printed on the toe box space. If you might be right here to learn to spot pretend Balenciaga Track sneakers, you might be in the right place. Has been discontinued now and replaced with the G12. If you like our service and our designer merchandise, please give us an excellent evaluation, it is necessary for us, thank you very much. The strap is a bit longer in comparability with its genuine counterpart, nonetheless this is a minor difference I can live with. The braided handle particulars are absolutely beautiful and my favourite design function of the bag. The bag came wrapped fantastically with protecting packaging around the metallic hardware to stop it from being damaged in the course of the transport process. The bag doesn't stand up easily by itself since the leather-based is so supple, and it slouches quite simply. I actually think that the slinkiness provides to the general carefree vibe that exudes from the bag. The leather on the actual bag I selected is chevre which is goatskin. They have 97.6% positive ranking and have over three,000+ pleased clients. Their finest merchandise are their backpacks which look amazingly beautiful and neat. The Wd2011 is a prime vendor and has been around since 2011. They have 97.4% positive score and have greater than 10,000+ happy customers. They have a good assortment of luggage that features baggage, wallets, backpacks and extra. One of their greatest promoting products is the transparent mesh with chain sling bag. However, the place high-priced items meet at least as excessive a requirement, there's also a group of counterfeits. They have 8000+ pleased customers and now have a positive ranking of ninety six.9%. Some of their finest selling merchandise is the designer purse which are replicas of the massive brands. In terms of variety, the Maizhon store has a fantastic assortment and possibly unparalleled. Known for Gucci Handbags, Gucci Backpacks and YSL Handbags. Crafted in black with textured leather, the piece has plenty of space for straightforward storage of cell phones, card holders, sun shades and your favourite lipstick. The protecting foot nails not only get rid of the harm of the bottom leather-based, but additionally make it easy to stand on the espresso desk and enter your Instagram selfie. Replica Balenciaga Handbags Ville Top Handle handbags are crafted in grained calfskin with a slightly reflective surface and rich texture, combined with noble fashion and avenue elements. The style number listed on the entrance or back of the label is an easy approach to determine the model of a Balenciaga purse. In 2005, the underscore between “Balenciaga” and “Paris” was changed with a interval. Prior to 2008, the metallic plates have been manufactured from sterling silver and stamped “925,” and at present they're made from nickel.

[jrazillashadowworks]

Second Chances

A new, original story. ^,,^ 

Warning: Blood. Violence. Sexual themes. Language.

Word count: 3322

Enjoy!

Waking up to the all too fancy apartment, the young man opened his dark eyes, staring at the blackened wall, the blur of sleep easing away. The alarm clock sitting on the nightstand beside him shown four am, the hologram luminescent straining his eyes even in its dim function. He had woken up before the alarm yet again. Feeling the grogginess lingering, he had to fight to sit up, pushing the covers off of him. His partner shifted in the bed, letting out a soft sigh.

Turning, he brushed the thick bangs from his face, eyes adjusting to the darkness to notice the mop of wavy hair flowing out on top of the pillow next to him, face marred within the tufts. Smirking, he tried his best to get up without making a sound. Stepping around the room, he found the bathroom and went inside, shutting the door behind him before turning on the fluorescent lights that blinded him when he clicked the switch. Groaning, he hovered his hand over his face, letting light filter through his fingers until his eyes had adapted.

The shower was all it took to clear away the last of the sleep and he was awake and alert. Doing the other cleanly necessities, he exited with a towel around his waist, coming back into the darkness. The lamp suddenly flashed in the room and his partner stared at him through the tresses of her messy hair. “Hello, sexy,” she said half groggy, half sensually. “Up already?”

“Morning,” he replied with a smirk. “Yeah, I figured I’d just get started since I woke up anyway. You got class today?”

The woman combed her hand through her pale brown mane, moving it from her beautiful face, full lips still molded into a smile. Sleep did not dull her looks like it did ninety-nine percent of the population, including himself upon waking up. “Not today. It’s my layover day.”

“Lucky you,” He scoffed.

She gave a mock pout. “Don’t be jealous.”

Walking over to the wide, oaken dresser, he pulled out his simple clothes for the day, moving over to the bed and sitting them down. Dropping the towel, he raised a brow. “I’m not.”

She scanned him up and down and wiggled her brows, blue eyes alight. “That’s a good start to my morning.”

Chuckling, he pulled on his boxers and jeans. “Just a sneak peek for now, I’m afraid.”

“You better make it up to me later.”

Pulling on his t-shirt that meshed to his muscled torso, he gave a nod. “Count on it.”

Walking up to her, he bent down, giving her a kiss on the lips, her arms wrapping around his neck in a vice, threatening to not let him go. Not that he minded much. But after a minute, she let go and slapped his ass as he turned to leave. “Good luck,” she breathed.

“Enjoy your day off.”

Pulling his zipped, black hoodie from the wall hook in the alcove by the door where all the jackets and shoes sat, he shrugged it on. Pulling on his shoes, he finally gave his partner one last wave before heading outside.

Staring out over the railing of the second story of the apartment complex, the sky was still pitch, the countless skyscrapers of the city raising up to the hidden clouds, only visibly by the ever relentless, neon lights that practically decorated every building. The light posts below however, remained darkened. As he strolled down the walkway, the little half orb lights above him flickered on, revealing his way down the descending stairs to the front and then to the side parking lot filled with futuristic vehicles, luminance following him.

Finding his VX-motorbike at the very back, he straddled the cushion and unhooked his helmet from the flank, pushing it down on his head. Flicking open the panel on its side, he pushed the button, the holographic visor glowing a green, showing coordinates to his location based on his brain waves, as he visualized where he needed to go. Squeezing his grip on the bars, his hands signaled the bike to start with a loud roar that was sure to piss off at least one of his neighbors.

Leading the long bike out with his legs, he revved it, nearly hovering off the ground towards the streets. However something jumped in the way of his bike just as he passed the threshold and he had but a millisecond to freeze the bike with his mind. Inhaling sharply, he glared daggers at the Doofy face of the person who got in front of him.

With a stupid smile, the upper corners of their mouth twitching, the man was immediately recognizable. “Sup, Clever?” He said, calmly.

Feeling a vein pulse on his forehead, Clever’s body tensed in pure rage on the bike, thinking of running him over after all. “Lucky, you dumb piece of shit, what the actual fuck?!”

The one known as lucky, giggled like a dork, making Clever immediately want to punch him in his dorky, punky face. “I could have run you over, you dip shit…”

“Nah you wouldn’t,” he replied with a laugh. “You got good reflexes!”

Though it was a compliment, it just pissed him off further. “What the hell are you doing out here so early anyway?” Clever grumbled.

“Walking Puff!” Pointing waggling hands downward, he proudly showcased the fluffy husky, pup, staring up at Clever with a silly face matching his dumb master. Puff gave a quick bark, acknowledging him.

“This fucking early?”

“Yeah…so?”

“Just get out of my way Lucky. I got to get to the school now.”

“This early?” Lucky Mimicked.

“You know. You consistently know how to piss me off.”

“I suppose that’s a skill.”

“Consider yourself Lucky, we are friends.”

“I am Lucky,” he chimed.

“Move,” he warned. “Or you’ll be a friend I used to know…”

Lucky tilted his head, the dog doing the exact thing. “I don’t get it.”

“Get the fuck outta my way or I’ll run your ass over you stupid, dumb, fucking asshole piece of monkey shit, bag of dicks!”

Moving away, he nodded, keeping the same light hearted expression. “Okay! Have a good day!”

Flipping off Lucky, with his metal implanted middle finger, he shot the bike forward, blasting a burst of air that ruffled up his friend’s hair and the dog’s fur into a fluff ball.

Leaving him behind, Clever revved the bike, soaring down the empty streets and overpasses towards the city. Before long, the roads suddenly filled with other vehicles of the early morning commute. Myriads of glowing colors zipped passed one another, leaving after images as they raced down the five lanes. His pathway was lit in a golden line for him to follow towards the school.

Soon, he was in the thick of the city, as buildings and sidewalks surrounded him, already bustling with people on their own missions. It still surprised Clever how different the city was compared to the slum lands he had lived and thrived in for the early years of his life, fighting to survive. These people had not the struggles he had once gone through. After the crazy events that led him to this path, things had definitely changed for the better. At least, for most.

Having to halt at a stop light, the gentle thrum of his bike rolling throughout his body, he happened to turn his head in time to see a group of men walking down a dank alleyway, dressed in much the same, punkish garbs as one another. Only a couple stood out between them, fear evident in their strides, encircled by this group. It left him with a foreboding feeling that set into his stomach. “A new gang huh?”

It was of course none of his business, and yet one last glance cemented the nagging irritation. A single, patch embroidered in one of the jackets of the men was the face of the Jester. His blood ran ice cold, brows furrowing over his dark eyes. A horn blared at his back, causing him to jump. Flipping off the one behind, he jerked his bike into the alley, silencing it before the noise would make it to the gangsters. Kicking the stand, he sat it upright, setting the thief lock that would send ten-thousand volts into anyone who tried to take his bike. Not that it would start for them anyway. Curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Taking off his helmet, he sat it on the seat and creeped after them, keeping his back to the wall. Something devious was obviously in the works and he was going to find out what. Though he was never the nervous type, he felt a slight shudder. “There is no way he can be alive,” he whispered. “Probably just remnants of his dead ass gang.”

Skittering towards a corner, he peeked out at the group who forcefully pushed the couple, Clever could now make out, wearing upper class suits and held glossy, briefcases. A robbing perhaps, he wondered. Probably procuring funds to restart their fallen gang that once ruled over the city and slums in terror. Though it was a pain, he knew he couldn’t let that stand. Though, he needed information first.

“This’ll do, you city slick, cock suckers,” a gravelly voice spat. It sounded much like rocks in a blender. “Now you wanna git out of this alley alive, we gonna need a million from each of you. We have our own bank account, all’s you gotta do is hand it over right now.”

Clever could already tell how stupid they were by their outrageous demands. Small timers. Should be easy, he thought. He could hear the couple of business men mumble incoherently.

“You don’t has it?! Then wire it from one of your business accounts! I aint foolin! I’ll bust ye up into a bloody mess, not even your money grubbing kids will be able to identify.”

That caused a cry of fear from one of them. It was obvious he would have to intervene and get information out of them the hard way. Good. Inhaling one long breath, he sighed loudly enough for them to hear him.

Rounding the corner, he pulled the hood over his head and shrugged his hands in his pockets. “It’s a nice morning isn’t it?”

A wave ran over the shoulders of the gang members, who spun on their heels to look at the newcomer. “What the hells you want? This aint none of Yo business!”

“What’s with the patch? You guys worship a dead bastard who was nothing but a bitch ass cockroach?” Clever inquired.

“The fuck you say?” They each replied, utterly offended, rage boiling on their ugly faces.

“Let’s not make this take long. I got places to be.”

The obvious leader, a man a bit wide in the middle threw his hand towards Clever. “Take that short fucker out!”

Clever shook his head. “I did miss this.”

The morons ran at him, sloppily, fanning out in front of him. The first one to make it to him swung his right fist, a pathetic move that Clever easily dodged, sending his own fist into the man’s stomach, knocking air and spit from his maw. Two next, swinging wildly at him, in which he simply moved around. Kneeing one in the groin, he kicked him into the one behind, toppling them over. A knife glinted past his face, nicking a strand of black hair free from his head. Another swipe. Stepping back expertly, Clever caught the man’s arm, his metal fingers pistons, hissing as he crushed the man’s wrist, the bone snapping completely. They wailed, in agony.

From the perspective of the leader, he could only see a mass of bodies shuffling around, footsteps and whines echoing out in the back alley with each thump and crash. “Git him good!” He urged them, still keeping the two businessmen in his grasp.

It was a pathetic fight in which Clever barely broke a sweat. However, they did get a couple of lucky hits which he glanced off, and countered with ease. Within a couple of minutes, they were all defeated, sprawled on top of one another, unconscious. The short man’s body was electric with adrenaline, his blood burning hot. Chuckling, he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. “Damn, I missed this!”

The leader glared incredulously at him. “Who the fuck are yah?!”

“Just a civil servant, keeping the streets clean of has-beens and wannabe fucks like you and your crew. What a fall from grace.”

Tightening his thick arms around the necks of the two men, whose faces paled, the group leader threatened to break their necks. “Come closer and I’ll fuckin kill em!”

“How would you get the money then? Not a smart business strategy.”

“We can find more!” As he blinked, he failed to notice the flash as something sharp punctured his hand, sinking deep. Rearing back, the two escaped and Clever demanded them to make a run for it. They of course obeyed as the gang leader wailed in pain, staring at the knife that was plunged into his flesh, oozing blood.

“With a weak grip like that, you probably can’t even wank yourself properly,” Clever teased.

Eyes bulging, the fat man’s lips moved over invisible words, drool leaking between his few, grit covered teeth. Grabbing the knife, he winced and then pulled it free, lining a streak of blood before him. Pointing the sullied blade at Clever his face burned a bright red. “I’ll fucking kill you here and now!”

With monstrous steps, the behemoth that towered Clever over a foot, bumbled forward, thick, meaty arms curved outwards. “Raaaaah!”

“I don’t want hugs, tubbo.” Sidestepping away from the downed fools, the short man circled the buffoon, easily escaping his charges, followed by a swing of the knife. It was the definition of sad.

With one leg sweep, the fat man tumbled, nearly smacking into the brick wall. Face scrapped against the pavement. He remained there unmoving as Clever stamped his foot on his back, pressing down with as much strength as he could on the patch of the Jester, which was enough to make the man grunt and clench his jaw.

“It’s like standing on a mountain,” Clever said. “Now, tell me, what’s the deal?”

“None of your fucking business,” he growled.

Clever stomped on him five times for good measure, letting his anger out on the fat man’s spine. “Fucking tell me! I don’t have time for this shit!”

“Fine! FINE! I’ll tell you! We are-“

Suddenly a blaring, ear piercing, siren cut them off, as red and blue lights flooded into the alley, dancing off the walls. Armored and armed officers filled the tight space, surrounding them. “Raise both hands in the air!” they demanded.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Clever complained, raising both hands as high as possible. “I was getting to the good stuff!”

He was jerked off the gang leader, thrown against the wall and searched, rolling his eyes as they brushed over his crotch. “Don’t forget your change.”

“Just be quiet while we handle this,” the officer hissed.

“I don’t understand the unnecessary force. I did your job for you.”

“Silence. You are coming to the station so we can get a statement.” They read him his rights, though he simply just nodded.

“Whoopee,” he replied, exasperated.

Hands cuffed, he was lead to the cruiser and shrugged into the back, glancing at the cops looking over the downed gang members. “Well, now I’m going to be late as fuck.”

And that he was. The station was packed and it took him three hours to get through the proceedings, talking with dispassionate cops about all that happened. Luckily for him, the testimony of the two businessmen got him freed with a slap on the wrist. Leaving, he shrugged. “Do your job and none of this shit would have happened!”

“Have a good day, sir,” the female receptionist said, smacking her lips, giving him a sarcastic smile. “Your bike is out front waiting for you.”

Pushing out the double doors, he ran towards his bike and slammed his helmet on and skid out onto the streets yet again, leaving behind a black streak of tire. He pushed the speed limit, making it to the school in five minutes. Bursting through the front door, he ran through the sleek hallways of lockers and pin boards, hurrying to his classroom.

Huffing in the clean fumes of the school, he bound the stairs to the third floor and slid across the paneled steps onto the landing and froze when he saw who was standing before the door of his classroom, shoulders dropping. “Fuuuck,” he mumbled to himself.

The old hag by the entryway, was glancing inside, her wrinkled, talon fingers flicking against her pointy chin. Her frigid, angular form was stuffed in a black suit, her grey, wiry hair tied in a tight bun. A witch in principal form. As if to notice his life essence, her vulture-esque face turned to him, beady, black eyes locked on her prey. The wrinkles in her face tightened as her mouth lowered into a frown that nearly sagged off her face. “Soo good of you to join us,” she seethed in witch speak, uttering the words as if she was addressing trash.

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to calm his frantically beating heart. “I got held up by some thugs.”

“Your excuses do not interest me, Lucas. And as far as I’m concerned, the only thug I see, is you.”

“yes.” he gulped down the hate in his voice. “Mam. My sincerest apologies.” He hesitated to step closer but finally did so, reaching for the handle. “It won’t happen again.”

She locked her crinkled, bone hand on his arm, holding it in place, the cold of them seeping into his skin. “See that it doesn’t or it will be….is that blood?”

Peeking down, he noticed many splotches of crimson, soaked into his hoodie, he had not noticed before. “Um, yeah… I told you, I got held up by thugs.” He could already see her disbelief set into her countenance. “Don’t trust me? Ask the cops. Now if you excuse me, Mam, I need to teach my class.”

“Not with that on you won’t,” she snapped, jerking his hood, harshly.  

He had the sharp urge to punch her but exhaled to stop himself. “You are right.” Unzipping it, he took it off and folded it under his arm. Luckily, the blood only left very light spots on his shirt. The kids wouldn’t notice. “Thank you, Mam,” he said as sarcastically as he could. “Have a great day, Mam.”

She let him escape, with but a single claw before her face, pointed at him as if she was going to be watching him. No change there, he thought. Composing himself, he turned to his class who stared at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Good mor….day, class.”

“Good day, Mr. Lucas,” they all rang out in unison. It was a nice, relaxing sound. He had enough of dealing with adults for the day.

~

Back at the precinct, the lights flickered, broken bulbs snapping and crackling sparks. Walls were bathed in thick splashes of runny blood, as countless bodies were strewn below them, unmoving. It was a macabre scene of pure hell, as all officers were diced and left in pieces along the floor. The Cell doors of the jail were left open, emptied, all convicts freed. However, the thugs that were brought in only hours before, remained in theirs, a bladed card embedded into each of their foreheads. Expressions of slack jawed terror were all that was left, glossed eyes staring upward, frozen in death. A flash of stuttering light revealed the cackling face of the Jester painted in blood on the front of the cards.

[shockcity]

DD #2 - orbiting planet matt

Rating: T 

Summary: attempts at befriending Matt Murdock fall rather flat.

Category: gen

Warnings: none

*denotes dialogue taken directly from the comics, and in this case all quotes belong to Bendis.

__________________________

1

“Are those for me?” Peter asks, mask turned toward the greasy bag of chili dogs. “It’s not my birthday.”

“It’s not mine either.” Matt grins at him. “Yet here you are.”

Peter climbs down from the flag pole and lands agilely next to the man in red. His stomach is grumbling. The hot dogs are from Joe’s, he thinks. “Joe’s?” he inquires.

“Joe’s,” says Matt. “Only the best.”

Peter is rummaging through the bag cheerfully until he remembers exactly who he’s talking to. He pauses and looks up, and Matt shrugs a little and says, “I need information.”

He’s not surprised, but he is a little hurt.

“Right,” he mutters, pulling up his mask so he can take a large bite of his chili dog. It’s delicious – Matt sure knows how to bribe a guy. “What’s up?”

“Heard you tangled with Mysterio recently,” Matt begins, and they talk shop for a bit as Peter inhales his food and quietly wonders if Matt ever takes a day off.

He’s certainly very dedicated, and Peter admires that dedication; Matt gets the job done. But he’s definitely a lone wolf for good reason, because working with Matt is not anyones idea of fun. Like at all. Ever.

For example: Peter will say, “right, let’s make a plan” and turn around and find Matt already beating on people. Or Peter will try to deescalate a situation – “there’s no need for violence,” he’d say, and instead Matt would be like, “fight me.”

It was exhausting.

And while civilians liked to call Matt the man without fear, most of the superhero community thought he was more like the man without tact.

“Thanks,” Matt says when he’s picked Peter’s brain to his satisfaction. He perches on the edge of the building, ready to swing back to Hell’s Kitchen.

“Hey,” Peter calls out before he can vanish. “I heard about Foggy.”

Matt tenses.

“How is he? How are you?”

Peter waits, and waits. And waits. Matt is silent and still, hanging on the edge of a skyscraper. He doesn’t turn to Peter and say, “yeah, thanks buddy,” or “yeah man, I’m wrecked” like a normal guy.

Instead he says, “I’ll be seeing you,” and disappears.

Peter likes that Matt makes his little blind jokes and knows that he’s a sucker for Joe’s chili dogs. Peter admires the mortal man that jumps off buildings and takes on ninjas and super soldiers and psychopaths. More than once, he’s wanted to be like Daredevil – fearless, honorable, persistent. Peter has known Matt Murdock for years; has fought with him, laughed with him, and mourned with him. He considers Matt his friend.

He just wishes he was sure it was mutual.

________

2

Luke finds Matt using a dumpster to prop himself up as he clutches his ribs. The ninjas are looming at the end of the alley, wary of fighting both Power Man and Daredevil. At least for now, anyway.

“Need help, Murdock? Looks like you could use a hand.”

Luke spends too much time with Danny, and he’s forgotten that Matt doesn’t have a sense of humor.

“What are you doing here?” Matt snaps, straightening with a wheeze. “I had it under control.”

He raises his hands up in mock defense. “I was only asking if you needed help, man.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Luke glares at him, despite the fact Matt won’t see it. “Yeah, alright. You get creamed by those ninjas and I’ll just stand here and watch. No skin off my back.”

“What are you doing here?”

He frowns. “I was looking for a friend…thought maybe we could help each other.”*

“I don’t need your help. Go back to Harlem.”

“Check your tone, man,” Luke warns him, frustrated, but after a moment he sighs. “C'mon, Matt,” he says.

Matt blows him off. “I’m fine. I’ve got this. I don’t come into your city and tell you how to do your job. What are you even doing in Hell’s Kitchen? Damn it!”

The ninjas have decided to attack while they are both distracted, and despite Matt’s snapping, he does need Luke’s help. They make quick work of it and then turn and face each other warily.

“Thanks,” Matt says, because he likes to be frustrating.

Luke looks at him and wishes he could write off Daredevil completely. They never get along – if it’s not Matt going off on Luke it’s Luke going off on Matt. They just don’t mesh. Jessica says it’s because they’re a lot alike. Luke thinks she’s crazy, but he loves her anyway.

“Whatever, man,” he mutters, peeved, and Matt turns and walks away.

Luke doesn’t call him back, even though he wants to. There’s a part of him that wants very much to be friends with Murdock, if only because he admires his strength. He’s not got powers like Luke, and he’s sure as hell not bulletproof, which makes Matt going out there and taking on villains that much more impressive. Luke can respect that.

“Whatever, man,” he says again, but he is talking to no one. Matt is gone.

He bets Murdock hears him anyway.

__________________

3

Danny doesn’t want to deal with Matt tonight. He feels bad for thinking it, but sometimes Matt is just, well…

Matt.

“You eat too much yakisoba.”

FYI, he thinks sarcastically, Daredevil knows private things about the general status of your body and is not afraid to use it.

“Please,” Danny groans. “I’m in pain.”

“You have indigestion, Danny,” Matt points out pitilessly. “Your blood pressure is off the charts. Have you considered eating something outside of the staple diet foods of a college freshman?”

He hates Matt, but he’s also amused by him because life sucks. “Master Izo eats it too,” he argues.

“Izo is also in my kitchen drinking grain alcohol.”

Danny only moans.

Matt sighs and walks out of the living room, leaving him to languish on the sofa. He’s tired of Izo’s stupid mission and Matt’s endless drama with the Hand. He wishes they would lay off Matt for once, and then maybe Matt would lay off him. It’s not very likely though, because he’s pretty sure Matt lives to judge people. Not to say Matt’s a bad guy, he’s just, well…

Matt.

“Here,” he says, startling Danny a little. “Try this.”

In Matt’s hand is a steaming cup of tea. Danny can smell lemon and honey and ginger, and his stomach gurgles hopefully. He takes the cup and sips at it, feeling the warmth travel down his throat and into his upset stomach. He sighs with relief.

“Thanks, Matt,” Danny tells him, smiling.

Matt smiles back.

“Sure,” he says. “But you really need to change your diet.”

He hates Matt so much.

_____________________

4

He left her for last.

It was infuriating and hurtful, and being infuriating and hurtful is something that Matt Murdock is very good at. It’s one of his worst character flaws, for sure.

He also has a lot of weird problems that Jessica just doesn’t have time for, and hang-ups she’s really not sure she wants to know about. But one of the things she doesknow about him, without a doubt, is that he’s freaking nuts.

But that’s not all, and Jessica was in the mood to shit talk, so:

First, there is no reason for all that self-flagellation.

“You need to get over yourself, Murdock,” she’d say. “Or just end it.”

This proved to be counterproductive, because Matt would then just whine about how Jessica was right; he was a horrible person, he didn’t deserve to live… blah blah blah. He wouldn’t even whine in the literal sense and show just a little weakness like a real human. Murdock had perfected the art of silent martyrdom. He lingered in the shadows in the rain on your roof, thinking about sacrifice and justice while regular people did their taxes and ate microwave dinners.

Fucking Matt Murdock.

Second of all, and most importantly – he was obviously crazy and needed help. Jessica liked to think she knew a lot about being fucked up, especially by traumatic shit. She had trust issues, and addictions, and nightmares. People had just really screwed her over in general. So she got Murdock more than most. Life had taken a huge shit on him, no mistake, and it didn’t seem to be getting any better. She felt bad for him, really, she did.

But he was also fucking crazy.

The whole dressing like the devil and beating the crap out of people was the first clue. Second was his extreme self-loathing. Jessica had thought she was self-destructive, but this guy was a mess.

Then there was the mood swings, and the general brooding sadness wafting off of him even on the good days. Murdock just really took the cake in the crazy competition.

Thirdly, lastly, finally:

It was unfair but despite all his flaws, Matt was actually very likable. In a way. Sort of. Jessica thought it was more like magnetism, or gravity (to the unfortunate bastards orbiting Planet Matt, she thought, good luck fuckers, have fun being pelted with comets made up of depression and guilt).  

When out of that scary suit (and holy shit was it fucking scary when he was looming at you in a dark alley threatening you with severe bodily harm), Matt dressed as a fancy, charming, smooth-talking lawyer that was stupidly attractive. She could admit that he wasn’t bad looking without embarrassment, because Jessica wasn’t blind. Unlike some people.

If you were unlucky enough to meet the Matt outside of both suits, then it was absolutely impossible to hate the guy no matter how much you wanted to. Jessica had once asked Nelson about the over-large hoodies and fuzzy socks, and all he’d done was groan.

The fact that Matt was so endearing made it hard to be angry with him.

“Fuck, Murdock!” she was currently screaming. “Everybody knows but me! Everybody fucking knows!”

Luke is standing in the corner looking zen. Matt is unintimidated because fuck him.

“You can’t say, ‘Hey, by the way, Jessica, being that you’re putting your life on the line for me, I think it’s only fair to tell you that I am, in fact, the vigilante known as Daredevil’?”*

“I’m Daredevil,” Matt says.

Jessica curses the day she met his stupid ass because Matt fucking Murdock is a headache she never asked for.

But got anyway. Fuck.

______________

5

There’s a chance she’s making a mistake. She’s got so many complicated exes that whenever she approaches one it’s always bound to go south eventually, so logic says that Natasha should avoid all of them. Or at least the ones she doesn’t work with.

But Matt is different. He’s always been different.

“You’re losing your touch, Murdock,” she jeers, melting out of the shadows as Matt startles. “You – ugh. Really?”

He definitely knew she was there. He’s a terrible actor, and he’s teasing her. This is a good sign, Natasha thinks, because when Matt’s sense of humor is healthy, it means he’s relatively healthy, and when he smiles like that it means he’s genuinely happy to see her. She’s timed this visit right, because sometimes he can’t stand company, and Natasha gets that.

She’s like that too.

“Are you just visiting or is this Fury?”

“Just visiting,” she says. “And maybe a little Fury. He’s not concerned with you right now, but he’s annoying me lately so…. Plus I had some PTO.”

He grins at her. “You know, you’re the only partner I ever really tolerated.”

“I know,” she smiles back.

They go out that night and beat up the low-lifes of Hell’s Kitchen. They dance together, as they’ve always done. His body is lithe and beautiful; twisting and turning in the sky as they swing from one corner to the next in both shadow and moonlight. Natasha loves this. Loves him. She always will.

After they fight, they have wine and leftover Thai on his living room floor in the early hours of the morning.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asks when he is silent for too long.

He hesitates. “I missed you,” he admits. “I missed this.”

She did too. “You could partner up,” she suggests, knowing he’ll refuse. Matt has only ever worked well with Natasha or Elektra. Everyone else expects him to be someone he’s not.

He doesn’t even say no; he just raises his eyebrows.

“'Tasha,” he begins, after shuffling through his noodles a bit. “Do you ever wish you’d stayed in San Francisco?”

“Yes,” she says immediately. “All the time.”

“Even with me?”

Life is unfair. Natasha thinks about how unfair it is and normally she just laughs. No one escapes misery, least of all the Black Widow. She is born for it, thrives in it, expects it wherever she goes. Misery and unfairness are old, old friends.

But when she thinks about what life did to Matt, she’s angry. People don’t get her, don’t understand her desire for solitude and difficulty with feelings. They ask her why she doesn’t care more, and, if they happen to really hate her – how she sleeps at night. They judge. They think she looks for love in all the wrong places. That she can fight well but can self-destruct better.

Everyone that meets Natasha has something to say.

But not Matt. They are ex-lovers. Sometimes they backslide and fall into bed together; sometimes she comes to him and holds him and listens to his soft breathing and steady heartbeat. They separate and join; separate and join. Two halves of a whole.

He is her friend, her confidante, her essential part. They don’t need to see each other everyday, hell, they might meet years from now and still be the same. Still close. Matt is something special to Natasha.

So when people don’t understand him – when they ask him to be a hero, as well as a perfect friend, a perfect spouse, a perfect man – she’s so angry. She’s furious. It’s unfair.

Solve your own problems, she wants to say. Leave him alone.

When they tell Matt that he brings trouble, that he involves them in bad things, that he frustrates them and makes being around him difficult, Natasha wants to beat them. Beat them dead.

So quit, she wants to yell. Why stick around and be unhappy? You’re hurting him. You don’t understand him. Go away.

But also: Don’t go. You’ll kill him if you go.

Sometimes life is unfair, and then sometimes some people just aren’t meant to be happy. Natasha and Matt are cursed with rotten luck. They ruin lives about as much as they save them.

But they love each other.

“Okay?” she asks, sitting on his floor barefoot with the moon as her only light.

“Okay,” he says, with his eyes closed.

___________________

6

Murdock fights like he’s dying. Like he’s been diagnosed with an incurable virus or terminal cancer or some shit. It’s one of those illnesses that makes him rabid before he dies – before he goes cold, turns white, and falls down dead. He’s seen it before. He’s known those men that live on the edge, but they damn well don’t live on it long.

A part of him feels like he’s bleeding out when Murdock pulls this shit.

“Choirboy, you’re so goddamn stupid,” he tells him. His gun is somewhere in the wreckage. The roof had fallen on them and it had gone flying along with the rest of Frank as Murdock tackled him to safety.

“Shut up, Frank. We need to get out of here.”

But Frank isn’t in a hurry. He likes that gun, and he’s gonna find it. He also enjoys doing the exact opposite of what Murdock wants just to piss him off.

“You go then,” he snaps when Murdock insists.

“You know I won’t.”

Frank knows. It’s the same for him. Frank couldn’t leave Murdock in danger even if he tried. Well, at least not in serious danger. They liked to hurt each other, sure, but they’d never go the distance and just end it. The Punisher and Daredevil will probably fight each other until the end of time, if villains or age doesn’t get to them first.

They’ve got a weird thing going on. Or Murdock does, at least. The guy once created his own super team in order to stalk Frank through New York. Then he purposely went into some fucked up cloak-portal to retrieve Frank all so he could arrest him. Then there was the numerous times Murdock pulled his ass out of the fire before or after beating the shit out of him.

But it wasn’t just Murdock. There was that whole Rikers thing, after all. What possessed him to get locked up with his nemesis, Frank will never know. He probably has a brain tumor or something. It’s the only reasonable explanation.

“Red, quit hovering,” he says, pulling his gun out of the rubble triumphantly. “I swear to god I’ll shoot you.”

“You’ll miss,” Murdock goads.

So of course Frank shoots at him, and then they’re fighting again, and he’s pretty sure the villain-of-the-week is bored watching them and has slunk off to bother Spider-Man instead.

Screw ‘em.

He and Murdock have a thing.

____________

7

My name is Ben Urich, he writes. And if I published this story I’d be rich.

How many times has he thought that? How many times has he written it down, thinking of how it would be his big break; how it would get him away from Jonah, and he’d be his own boss finally? Too many times, that’s the goddamn answer. Too many.

Ben’ll sit at his desk at the Bugle and stare at his computer screen and think, all I have to do is write: my name is Ben Urich, and Daredevil is my friend.

But he won’t. He won’t because he owes it to Matt to keep the parts of his life that Ben is allowed to see private. He owes it to Matt to not write the sensational story of their friendship. Of Daredevil. Of Matt’s roller-coaster of a life. Because Matt is his friend, even if it’s not mutual (Matt isn’t very good with people in general, or any sort of interpersonal relationships). So Ben backspaces and looks at his blank pages and writes a column about nothing for a measly 30 grand a year.

“Don’t do that,” Matt says, and takes his full pack of cigarettes and lobs it onto the next roof where it bounces off the edge and falls into a dumpster. Show off.

“If you’re wondering if I’ve heard anything on Fisk, I haven’t,” he tells Matt. “He’s underground, and it looks like he’ll stay that way for a while.”

“He does what you least expect,” Matt argues. “He’ll come out soon. You’ll need to be careful.”

Ben frowns. “Me? Last I heard it was you he was obsessed with killing.”

Matt is tense, but jittery. He’s like a live-wire when Fisk is shadowing him. Ben understands the feeling; he still has nightmares about Elektra.

“He wants me to suffer,” Matt explains. “He won’t just kill me. He wants to hurt me first. That means going after the people I care about.”

My name is Ben Urich, he thinks, mouth falling open. And I will never publish a bad word about my friend.

“Ok, I’ll, um, be careful. If you will.”

Matt smiles at him wryly, and retorts, “quit smoking and I will.”

He won’t. The smoking and the risk-taking will continue because that’s their dynamic. They face danger together.

Ben isn’t a hero; he’s honestly never thought he was anything but a journalist, and a mediocre one at that. But Matt is one of those people that will remain a legend for hundreds of years after he’s gone, and the only way that can happen is if his story is immortalized somehow. Ben can do that. That’s Ben’s job.

My name is Ben Urich, he plans to write, someday. And I’m friends with a real, live, legendary hero. You might know him.

His name is Matt Murdock.

__________________________

8

And then there’s Foggy.

They meet in college and become avocados at law (that’s an inside joke, pick up the autobiography for more information). When Foggy meets Matt the first thing he thinks is, wow, hot roommate. And holy shit he’s blind.

Foggy was kind of a dork in college, admittedly.

Matt isn’t a dork. He is suave, and handsome, and damned smart. He is killer with the ladies, what with his whole young Robert Redford thing going on, and can talk his way into bed with pretty much anyone (Foggy included, because he’s got eyes). For a blind dude, Matt also has an absolutely amazing body. And that ass….

Ok. So. When Foggy isn’t crushing on Matt, he can definitely admit that he’s also a teensy bit jealous.

He regrets that, because it takes two to tango and a lot of the problems he has with Matt aren’t all completely due to Matt’s particular brand of insanity. Foggy has insecurities, ok? And Matt is…

Matt.

But they are the best kind of friends, even when they are fighting. Foggy loves Matt, loves him like a brother, a friend; a platonic life-partner. He wants to grow old with Matt, and honestly can’t even imagine life without him and his masochistic bullshit.

But Foggy has moments where he’s not so sure that Matt feels the same. Moments when he feels useless, lesser – an annoying sidekick in the Daredevil saga. Moments when Matt is too bright for him to even look at. Why would Matt need Foggy? Was Foggy imagining a closeness that wasn’t there? Was he Matt’s best friend too?

Thing is, Matt had never really had a lot of friends. At least not since the accident that took his sight, and certainly not in the years that Foggy has known him. There are things about Matt that make being his friend very hard – some of which are obvious and some only Foggy knows.

It is the privilege of being ‘the best friend’, to know more about Matt than anyone else; which actually makes it easier to put up with Matt’s quirks. There are sucky reasons why Matt is the way he is, and Foggy does his best to know them all and keep them in mind.

Friendship, in particular, is a hard pill for Matt to swallow.

It takes Foggy ages to understand why. In college, he sort of thinks Matt treats people like they are a little bit stupid, and a lot beneath him (with the exception of Foggy, thankfully). After a few months of a very standoffish Matt, Foggy finally wins him over and they become good roommates, good friends, and then best friends. But it took time, and effort (mostly on Foggy’s part).

As their friendship grew, Foggy came to understand that the thing about Matt is that he assumes nothing. He assumes no kindness from strangers, no consideration from his elders, and no affection from his friends. He keeps his distance not because he feels that others aren’t worthy of his company, but because he thinks he is not worthy of theirs. Matt never expects people to love him.

But they did. They do. And Matt asks why, and Foggy says, because that’s just how it works, Matty.

One day Matt will understand this.

Foggy will make sure of it.

In the meantime, all Foggy has to do is stick by his friend. This is harder than it seems, because Matt is definitely the most complicated person he has ever met. His life is one tragedy after another, really, and Matt handles it with varying degrees of mania and depression. Foggy’s cancer, for instance, is hitting Matt pretty hard. It’s not very visible of course, but he knows his best friend, and while he initially worries that this will trigger Matt, it turns out okay in the end. Matt’s actually…doing ok.

Foggy knows it won’t last, but that’s not a problem, because he’s in it for the long haul, and with Matt, chaos is pretty much the rule. Everyone wanting to be friends with Matt should just get ready to be caught in it. No complaining. No take-backs.

Because that’s what happens when you orbit people like they’re planets; you either resign yourself to being on the outside looking in, or you collide, and become something new, and maybe better, than before.

——

+ 1

But Foggy is wrong. What he doesn’t know is that there’s a third option. That planets can orbit things too – that Matt in fact orbits Foggy, because Foggy is a thing called a star, and he is at the center of Matt’s universe.

One day Foggy will understand this.

Matt will make sure of it.

[myangstybullshit2018]

Lizard King’s mission

We sat in the throne room waiting on the lizard king to come in. Spunky had finally gotten the hoodie and backpack he wanted so he was currently changing shape to see if it would still fit. Isabelle was fiddling with her new gear, testing everything and making sure it worked. I was just laying on the floor staring at the ceiling. It was a mesh of tree branches crossing the ceiling. I heard his giggled before I saw him come crawling down the tree to his throne.

He gave us a map, a bamboo plant, some fresh water, and directed us on where to go. I looked at the bamboo and the people around me multiple times, but no one explained and no one else seemed to think it odd.  There was a community that was being held hostage by their leader. They needed a human to make it through the security measures which is where I came in. We sat off on our trek, taking the commuter tunnel to the outside edge of the city. We took the elevator down and stepped out into the trees.

We struck out at a steady pace and followed it for several hours. The area closest to the city was pretty clear of monsters or anything else. The far side of the city was where the monster fights were held, and any monsters coming to the city were generally here to fight. This side led deeper into the mountains and forest. The forest of giants was not for giants, but rather everything was huge, I guess it could still be for giants, but the foliage itself was the giant part. A single apple could become a house for a normal human which means we had plenty to eat, but much of the land was difficult to use. When we were halfway we sat up camp. Spunky would sleep with me, but Isabelle preferred to burrow, so by the time my hammock and tarp were up, she was in a cozy hole in the ground. For awhile we just hung out, swinging in the hammock, staring at the treetops and sometimes stars, but mostly tree tops. I heard a noise that was specifically magical in nature. Looking to my pack I saw that there was a bit of a glow. I grabbed the bamboo that was gently vibrating and sparkling, and sat it on the ground. The container and trees seemed to grow and open, allowing rum to hop into our space. He grinned for a second, them looked crestfallen, the dictator had gotten his hands on spot. He was holding him hostage in the hopes that we would back down. I told Rum not to worry, he didn’t have to look sad on my account. I wasn't worried about spot, I knew he would be fine. Honestly if they even still had him, it was because he wanted to be captured. I was still going to get him back, and now I had no reason to try to be nice.

Rum spent the next hour explaining the bamboo too me, mainly because I grabbed him before he could disappear into it again. Bamboo travel is pretty common, but I had only seen it done with living bamboo groves. This was new and specific to Rum. It was a development of his own. He explained that once we had the fortress back, we only needed to put the bamboo somewhere and we would have an easy way back to the castle. All we need do was step up to the bamboo and think of our location. Much like the groves, only these allowed for more control. If we wanted to turn off the travel aspects in any directions we only need to set the bamboo in that way. 

The next morning we packed quickly and I informed everyone of the letter. Now filled with righteousness, and ready to retrieve our friend we sped off.

We came to a fence, which was very our of place in the wildness, and largeness, of this forest. It was obviously not going to keep out the natural elements so it seemed as if it was there specifically for me. We sat outside the fence and monitored the workers keeping tabs on their schedules. Isabelle tunneled under the fence and into a small building where we were able to hear the guards as well.

No to disparage what I'm sure was a very nice dictator, but if he had tried his particular level of bullshit anywhere other than the monster forest he would not have made it. His guards were not ready to go up against and angry, armored rabbit, a giant hooded bear, and a particularly sneaky five year old. Most of the guards were animals that didn't have any powers, or a few humans who also did not have any powers, and to my chagrine several chibis. On the one hand I could blend in, on the other these were partial incantations of me. After listening to them for awhile we really didn't want to hurt them. It was obvious they didn't really understand what was going on. We stole some uniforms and spunky hid in my bag. Isabelle and I waited until no one was around and headed out. We walked the directions most everyone else had been going.

The pathways through the trees were tight, not much more room that my shoulders. The path took a sharp right and a trio of trees were in the center area, a house, castle, random assortment of wood, I'm not sure what to call it. It was attached to the trees, the tallest platform so high up I could only make out that it was the top, and the rest of the building grew and spiraled out of the wood to create a huge structure.

Getting the relic was much easier than expected. We chose stealth over crazed berserker mode which is what we were all feeling. We had spunky as our secret weapon if things got bad, but as it stood, we just climbed right up. On each tree leg was a ladder that led up into the building. Isabelle and I went to separate ones. She looking for spot and I looking for the relic. Rum had said it would be close to the top.

The rooms in the house were odd and didn't make sense. Everything was out of place, like the house itself was making people uncomfortable. I continued up, plenty of people around but no one really seemed to know who anyone was, so a new face was not surprising. The section I was in was a spiral hallway winding around the trunk of one tree with tilted paintings on the wall and angled furniture up against the walls. I could hear more noise and people ahead and sped up a little. Stopping at the door we were at the first big level, all three trees supporting the large floor which seemed to be a greeting area. Everyone was standing around talking to each other and in general seemed to just be enjoying life. Three hallways led into the room, I assumed spiral hallways wrapping around the trunks, there were multiple more levels so I continued walking. The higher I got the less people I saw until I came upon the office, top of the tower, well almost, with a view of the forest and mountains. The city must be on the other side as there was no sign of it at all. In what could only be described as an oval office sat a charicature of Che Guevara. He was bent over the desk, scribbling furiously on something. Behind his was a shelf full of unique items. Each item had its own sense of purpose, it was an impressive collection, but the only thing sending off a signal was the hammer. With his head down and focused on something it was relatively easy to sneak over and grab it, my intention had been to run. The moment I picked up and held the relic in my hands I knew we'd be safe. Not just because I could hurt someone with it, but it was obvious it wanted to be with me. I didn't feel a need to run, or hide anymore. I felt oddly at home. I stood with the hammer in my hand and he finally turned seeing me. From one of the other doorways came Spot flying overhead to land on my shoulder and Isabelle came running in slamming the dictator to the floor and pinning him there. He did not put up a fight. It felt very arranged and I was suspicious of the whole situation. We were not amazing fighters or even good at strategic planning so I had to wonder as to how we did this so easily. 

We rounded up all the people and figured out what to do with them. The newly fallen dictator would go to the city for trial. Taking the bamboo from my bag I placed it on the floor and stepping in front. The sparkling and magical noises began and the bamboo grew and changed to make the door. I could see guards on the other side and the prisoner stepped through. Rum came back in our direction and began making the decisions for the people who had gotten caught up in this. He offered home in the city to anyone who wanted to come, but also told them that they were allowed to stay in this area, but that the new resident of the fortress would not be making decisions for them. With that Rum gave me the treehouse. To be fair it was mine anyway. With the hammer in my hand I climbed the rest of the way to the very top. A small triangular piece of wood was attached to three trees. From the top, I could see where the trees twisted and turned to created the frame of the house, stating from this connection point. In the distance I could see everything. I don’t know if it was the highest point in the monster forest, but I could see the lighthouse in one direction and the city in another. I put the hammer on my lap and sat alone on this, the first ever treehouse I built. I was so tiny, and it was hard to get the nails to go in. The tree had grown up around the twisted metal of the messed up nails, but it had been on of my proudest moments. I lived in this treehouse for years, some of the extensions below had been started by me, but the trees seemed to take on a life of their own when I left. I don’t remember choosing to leave, and I’m not sure why this treehouse is here when it should be closer to other places, but the one thing I’ve learned living in the mindscape is that we often find the reasons after they don’t matter.

When I finally climbed down I replaced the hammer on the shelf and found that the entire house was feeling more normal. Rum was waiting on me in what use to be the oval office, but at this point was just another room. I asked him point blank if he had set this up, and he admitted that a good portion of what had happened had been his brain child, but that he did not have anyone touch spot, and that the dictator was in fact taking over to create an army, the fact that he would have failed without my cooperation was not really touched on. When I asked why he told me, I don’t want to give you a gift, I want you to reclaim yourself. I would have had to do this either way, but with your help I can also return this place to you. It wants you here. He was right. I could feel the difference in everything. I was able to navigate without thought now, everything worked correctly. 

Spunky, Isabelle, Rum and I stepped back through the gateway. Rum showed me how to change the settings and gave me another bamboo, letting me know if was for my regular home. I did not have to travel to see him or visit the treehouse. I could go by bamboo, and I could lock anyone out from using my bamboo and entering my space. We still had a very long trek ahead of us however, and started out to make it back home.