#and they kept insisting that taylor made exactly what she wanted and how dare I say anything different

[neverbesokind]

Something I don't always love about Swifties is the absolute animosity toward people expressing their dislike of a song or album. No matter how measured or reasoned your explanation for not caring for that song or album may be, people jump down your throat and call you not a fan or whatever.

It's even worse when it isn't even a song or album you dislike, just one you have a few criticisms of... like relax. It's all in fun. I critique the things I love because I love them, and I love to think about them.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter fifteen: nightshade, hemlock, mistletoe, and oleanders

"you raise up your head and you ask, 'is this where it is?' and somebody points to you and says, 'it's his', and you say, 'what's mine?' and somebody else says, 'well, what is?' and you say, 'oh my god, am I here all alone?' but something is happening and you don't know what it is, do you, mr. jones?" -"ballad of a thin man", bob dylan

At some point, during Sam's absence, Scott had spoke with Charlie over the phone over the course of a few days. Apparently, the marriage was on its last legs while neither of them paid any attention whatsoever. It all happened in one fell swoop and without a shred of remorse to boot: he was asked to leave and move somewhere else in Queens. Scott ran his finger over the rim of his water glass and propped up the side of his head in the palm of his hand. Every so often, he took a glimpse up towards the front door of the restaurant: near there was a nook in the wall in which the maitre d' suggested they keep their instruments safe at.

“How you feeling in the meantime?” Belinda kindly asked him.

“Like I'm ready to just—faint,” he confessed. “I thought Marge was it for me. Like there was no one else for me in the world.” He sighed through his nose and Belinda reached over for a pat on his shoulder. He showed her a friendly little smile, albeit a sad one.

Sam and Joey sat right across from the two of them there at the table. She glanced over at him and he raised his eyebrows at her.

“I'm sorry I hit you,” she told him, to which he shook his head.

“It's okay—if anything, I deserved both of those,” he assured her. “I've had far worse injuries, too, playing hockey and whatnot. I'd get hit with pucks and smacked with sticks—you don't walk away from a hockey rink to be a full time musician and not have problems with your teeth.” He showed her another lopsided little smile and she returned the favor. “So you're down—where?”

“Santa Catalina Island. Twenty two miles off the coast. But then again, I still have a place in New York City. You know, the apartment in Hell's Kitchen.”

“It's an island, though,” Joey pointed out. “An island, Sam! You're currently based off of an island.” He then bowed his head and cocked his mouth to the side. “Not to brag or anything,” he started again, that time in a false pompous accent, “but due to the amount of wealth I've gotten, I can buy an island at no rhyme or reason at 'tall!”

She burst out laughing at that, and she had forgotten that Scott and Belinda were still right there across from them. She turned to them right as he fetched up a sigh and looked away from them, and thus she stopped right in her tracks. Sam returned to Joey as a result: he ran his fingers through his inky black curls and he tilted his head back a bit so as to show off a bit of his throat and his Adam's apple. Not as prominent or sharp as Alex's, but still one for her to look at for a little more than a few seconds.

He then gave his hair a little toss and he turned his head to the side, and he showed her his side profile. She had left her journal back on Catalina, but at least she knew she was headed back there soon enough.

“You know what I feel like doin'?” he asked her.

“What's that?”

He glanced over at the far side of the restaurant, past the front room and to the doors next to that big front bay window.

“You have to use the bathroom?” she asked him, and he returned to her with a smirk on his face. “Oh, no, Joey.”

“What? Why not?”

“I'm not going into the men's room with you.”

“I never said we were goin' into the men's room,” he pointed out, “but I do wanna—” He gestured to her body and he showed her that smirk once again.

“Well, we can't really do it in this place, though.”

“We can go outside,” he suggested.

“It'd be cold, though.”

“Nonsense. If it's cold, it gets the girls nice and pointy and it gets the channel below the equator nice and damp, too.”

“Here's a challenge for you,” she started with a raise of her finger.

“Okay. I'm up for a challenge. I'm an athlete, thus I'm always up for a challenge.”

“You go over to that woman whom you've just met and break it off with her 'cause I'm bored.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Joey, if you really feel things with me, I want you to prove it.”

He never moved or said anything.

“I want you to prove it and that I'm not just another fuck toy to you,” she continued.

Without any moment's hesitation, he clasped his hands on either side of her face and kissed her right on the lips. Those soft dark lips as smooth as molten chocolate. Right in front of everyone. Right in front of Scott and Belinda.

“Jesus, Joe,” he remarked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, Sam!” she declared to which she clapped her hands. Sam brought her hands down to his slender knees as they lingered close to her own. She was so close to the space between his thighs, so close to his belt, such that she could let her fingers find their way there.

But she kept her fingers upon those delicate knobby knees, right upon that snug rich black denim. Joey let his tongue slither right into her mouth a little bit: such a strange feeling to feel him inside of her mouth once again. His grip on either side of her face was soft and he slid his body closer to her. Even only a few inches between them and she could feel his warmth.

For a fleeting moment, she thought about when Alex leaned his body against her own back at the house on Catalina as he climbed out of that stool. But this was a different warmth, a different feeling. The softness and slim gentleness of Joey.

“French it up, why don't ya, Joseph?” Scott cracked. Sam squeezed Joey's knees as she slipped her tongue into his mouth a little bit for a taste.

Belinda whispered something to Scott, and he chuckled at that.

Sam then let go of his mouth and she gazed right into his big brown eyes as if she stared into her own. She then ran her fingers through his black curls and he closed his eyes. His curls, while soft and clean, felt a lot more coarse than usual. Coarse and fuzzy with the dryness that surrounded them there in California, the dryness despite the marine layer overhead and the rainfall from the night before.

She could smell him again on her clothes. She knew that she would never forget the taste of him on her lips and her tongue. She caressed the side of his face and she kept her eyes locked onto those soft brown irises as they swallowed her whole. As dark and full as the bottom of the ocean. As venomous as the very deadly nightshade he crawled out from onto the cold earth around them.

He parted those dark lips as he was about to say something, but no sound came out.

“Hey, love birds,” Scott called out to them, and they both broke out of it, and they turned their attention over to the waiter who brought the four of them their drinks to kick things off. Sam picked up her glass of lemonade and took a quick large sip of it; Joey blew on the surface of his coffee before he took a drink.

“You're not even gonna add sugar to it?” Belinda asked with an unsure chuckle. Sam turned her attention to Scott as he held his mug of Irish coffee to his mouth.

“Doesn't need sugar,” he assured her with a shake of his head. “It's already got the whole package.” He took a sip with his eyes closed.

“I've had Irish coffee before,” Sam recalled. “How is it?”

“Damn rich,” Scott replied, and he coughed. “Whoa. That'll put some hair on the chest.”

“Right back in where you shaved the word 'not' in?” Joey teased him, and Belinda laughed at that.

“Yes, Joey!” Scott laughed along with her.

“Wow!” Chuck's voice carried in right there, and the four of them turned their attention to the left side of the room. He stepped into the room at that moment and he showed off a big sheet of thick paper to them. It was a drawing of him with his arms curled out before him and his head bowed a bit. All along his arms were jagged points, all done in big bold but soft colors.

“Holy shit,” Scott declared.

“Beautiful, Chuck—” Belinda said, and her voice trailed off at the sight of it.

“It's all crystals,” he said, “at least that's according to Marla.”

“Marla made you that?” Sam asked him.

“Yeah, I was just gonna say, that looks like her style,” Belinda added.

Sam turned her attention to Joey.

“I left my journal on Catalina,” she admitted to him with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Damn. I really wanted to see what kind of art you've been up to lately.”

“It's been—I want to say autobiographical. On the next boat ride over, I'll make a note to show you.”

“Next boat ride over to visit yo' mama,” Joey cracked as he took a sip of his black coffee.

“Visit Joe Mama?” she joked.

“Visit Joe Mama, exactly!” He drank down a bit more of his coffee before Scott passed that drawing of Chuck over to them for a better look. Marla had sketched him out with some bright pink colored pencil and then she outlined him with thick lines of black ink, while the crystals where shaded in with those fine points. Down at the bottom of the page, she had signed her name “Marla Taylor” in large curly penmanship.

“Who needs to buy someone something when you can make 'em?” Sam proclaimed.

“Right, right,” Joey said as he took yet another drink of coffee. He still hadn't let things go with Testament, but she dared not let that interfere with her appreciation of her best friend's artistry. Those clean lines and Sam wanted to make some more pieces of art, all for Testament themselves. But she knew that someone on their end would recognize it, especially if she did something as obvious as sign her initials at the very bottom. Something more, something different.

An eager Chuck returned to them to fetch that piece of drawing and Joey then tapped on Sam's shoulder.

“Come with me,” he whispered into her ear, even though she was hungry and she wanted to stay there to see what Scott had in mind for brunch. But Joey insisted, and thus she followed him over to the bathrooms. They passed under a sprig of mistletoe pinned up to the wall over the entrance to the front of the restaurant; it was there she stopped right in her tracks when she realized where he was taking her.

“Joey, we're not doing it in the bathroom,” she scoffed.

“We won't,” he assured her; instead, he took her hand and he led her to that narrow hallway which led to the bathrooms. He kept on walking past the men's room and to the narrow little nook right around the corner from there. He pressed his back to the wall and he unzipped his little black leather jacket, and he showed off his chest to her.

“Oh, I see,” she breathed.

“Yeah—c'mon, Sam I am,” he begged her, to which he slid down the wall a bit so he was eye to eye with her.

“Where do you—um, want me to start?” she asked him.

“I'll start things off, actually,” he told her and he lunged for the button on her jeans. Sam held still with her legs spread out as he undid it for her. Butterflies danced about in her stomach as he ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. He had such a fierce twinkle in his eyes: they shone brighter than the fire opals on her bracelet.

He brought his dark lips to the little bit of skin right under her belly button, to which she gasped at the feeling.

“Oh—!”

“Yeah,” he growled as he gave her another kiss there. She realized that he was going all the way down from her waist to what lay below. She had given it to him while in England and so it made sense that he returned the favor to her. His lips were warm and silken, and far more than the feeling of molten chocolate.

“Joey?” a woman's voice caught them both off guard.

He stopped. Sam froze in her tracks. He lifted his head and he fixed her jeans, but he never buttoned them back up again.

“What're you doing?” Sam demanded.

“What're you doing?” the woman laughed, and he clambered to his feet. He ran his fingers through his black curls and stood right before Sam so she wouldn't have to see her. The woman chuckled at him.

Sam peeked out from behind him to the woman across from them. She was about Joey's height, but she had a full head of frizzy but neat golden blonde hair down past her shoulders. She did in fact look older than Sam herself, but not too much older: her milky white skin had not a single blemish or crease on it, but her deep eyes aged her more than a piece of gray hair ever would for her. She was slender but with that classic hourglass figure, much like a model: it also didn't help matters that she wore big black stiletto heels on her feet to go with her fitted dark denim jeans.

“What're you doing?” she asked him with another chuckle.

“She—” Joey gestured back to Sam. “—had a spot on her jeans and I was just—checking it.”

She froze and she looked back at Sam, whose mouth had gone completely dry and whose mind had gone completely blank. Nothing to say and nowhere to begin. The woman then chuckled again, and then she shook her head.

“You're funny!” she told him, and he sank down a bit so she could Sam in full for herself.

“Krista, this is Sam—better known as Sam I am.”

“Sam I am?” Krista echoed him.

“Also known as Sammich, Samantha, and—my personal favorite—Sam hill.”

“Sam—this is—this is Krista,” he sputtered. “My new friend.”

“Friend?” she demanded from him. She gaped at him complete with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Y-Yes,” Joey stammered; even with his sun kissed skin, the blush in his face was all too obvious. Krista flashed her an unsure smile and she shrugged in response. He cleared his throat once, twice, four times and he bowed away from them so they wouldn't have to see his face; Sam lingered closer to him.

“H-H-How'd you know I was back here?” he stammered some more to her.

“Scott told me he saw you run back here,” Krista explained, and Sam frowned at the sight of the blush on his face and his heavy breathing.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, concerned, and he coughed a bit.

“Yeah—I just—got a—a—” He patted his chest and straightened himself upright. “—a—a li'l—um—”

“Joey,” Krista said.

“Joey,” Sam echoed her.

“Huh?”

“You don't—look good,” Krista told him with a shake of her head.

“Yeah, you look like you're about ready to pass out,” Sam added.

“I'm fine, I promise,” he assured them, but then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell onto his back. Krista and Sam glanced at one another in complete amazement, and they both stood over him as he lay there on the linoleum with his arms out on either side of him.

“What should we do?” Sam asked her in a small voice, to which Krista nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Good question.” She stopped and then she looked over at Sam with a tested look on her face. “Was he—actually checking your jeans?”

“Do you want the truth?” Sam asked her.

“Always.” She smelled faintly of peppermint, an aroma that Sam hadn't smelled in what felt like forever; Sam herself shook her head and Krista fetched up a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of this,” she told her in a low voice and with a wave of her hand

“Okay,” Sam replied with a nod of her head, and she stepped away from there. Her face felt so hot right then: it felt rather obvious in that hallway that Joey had kindled up a new flame there with another woman, and yet she still wanted him. She still wanted him even when she realized that her jeans were about to fall right off her hips.

She caught herself before anyone else caught her with her pants down.

Sam stopped right there, right underneath the sprig of mistletoe and she adjusted the zipper on her jeans. Krista's laughter floated out from that hallway and Sam sighed through her nose. Unless he really made it obvious to her, then she wouldn't have gone through with that with him. Or maybe he wanted to play the field, but there were too many questions she had already at that moment.

She straightened her shirt out and gave her dark hair a little toss back with a flick of her head. She could only hope that he was playing the field. That was the only hope she had right then.

“Hey, Sam!” Scott called out right then.

“Brunch is here!” Belinda added.

She turned to those tables right behind her and she joined them both for some French toast, sausage links, and biscuits and gravy.

“Where's Mr. Nightshade?” Belinda asked her.

“He's—He's—He's—” Sam could hardly speak herself. She sipped on her lemonade a bit so as to clear her head. “He's having a moment,” she spoke right then.

Scott chuckled at that. Even from a momentary glimpse, Sam could tell that that mug of Irish coffee had already left its mark on him.

But she shrugged and she dug into her biscuits and gravy, the former of which were light and fluffy and fresh out of the oven; the latter of which was pale but peppery and even soft in texture. She took a glance to the left and the booth that Testament had packed into for themselves.

Chuck and Eric were both still very much in awe of that drawing that Marla had made; if only there was a way in which Sam could find her way back to Catalina just to fetch her journal, but alas she could not, not with brunch at the helm. Meanwhile, Alex leaned his back to the wall there in the booth and he kept his cup of tea close to his chest. He took a glimpse over at her with those deep eyes, as they looked as deep as ever at that moment.

If Joey could play around with another woman, why not play around with other men? If he really wanted her that bad, then she would have to act.

Scott cracked a joke to Belinda and she almost choked on her bite of sausage from laughing so hard. But Sam had her attention fixated upon the young buck across the floor from her. The shirt that her mother had bought for her fit him rather snugly, all around his waist and his chest, such that he had undone the top two buttons and showed off a bit of his chest. He said something to Greg who then nodded at him: he leaned past him and flashed Sam a wink. She returned the favor with a pretty little wave.

Alex picked up his tea and sauntered across the floor towards her. For a second, she swore that he had a bit of a sway to his hips as if he knew what was going on.

He took his seat next to her but he never bunched up closer to her than the single couple of inches that the seats allowed them.

“By the way, I should tell you, that wasn't me who was rubbing your butt last night,” she promised him.

“I think you told me that and I wasn't able to say something about that,” he recalled, “to that I say—” He gaped at her. “—oh, no.”

“Yeah. But if it's any comfort, though, my mom had the hots for Joey when I brought him home.”

“Wow.” He raised his eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. If it's any further comfort, I'm nothing like that.”

“Is your mom like—always like that?” He lowered his voice a bit on that last part.

“Not really,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. “It's like—something woke her up when I brought Joey home for her to meet him.”

He paused for a second.

“What exactly does she do?” he asked her.

“She's a writer. No clue what she writes, though, but she's got a good deal with it, such that—you know, she was able to move to Catalina and spoil us for a few days.”

Alex glanced behind him.

“Where even is Joey?” he wondered aloud.

“I have no clue.”

“Well, I saw you kissin' him,” he muttered to her.

“And?”

He held his hands on either side of his tea cup and he pursed his lips together.

“And? Alex?”

“Thought you guys were really gonna go there,” he confessed with a lean of his head towards her.

“We didn't, though,” she assured him in a low voice. She mopped up a bite of biscuit in gravy.

“How is it?” he asked her.

“Delicious.”

“We haven't gotten ours yet.”

“Are you serious?” She was stunned by that.

“Dead serious. Hope it comes soon, too—it smells divine.”

He took a sip from his tea and she ate up that bite of biscuit in unison with him.

“That was good pie, though,” he told her.

“The pie we had last night?”

“Yeah. Nice li'l slice of your mom's pie right in my belly.”

She giggled at him.

“Kinda wish we had some more of it,” he confessed.

“More of that plus the spag Bol from the first night,” she added.

“Oh, my god, that was unreal. So simple and homey but god—it just warmed me up so much that I fell asleep right when I lay down on the couch.”

He sipped on the tea some more and that time he closed his eyes to nourish the feeling. Sam took another bite of biscuit and gravy and she, too, closed her eyes so to relish in the lush pepper paired with the light and fluffy biscuit.

“Hey, you two guys wanna hang with us for New Year's and my birthday?” Scott offered them.

“Oh, yeah, that's right!” Sam declared. “Your birthday's New Year's Eve. Um—well, I was planning on coming to see you guys on New Year's but I dunno about afterwards, though.”

“Yeah, me, neither,” Alex confessed.

“Come on—it'll be fun!” Scott declared. “Metallica will be there, too. I talked to James just yesterday—they're gonna be with us.” Sam was reluctant however, given she had a hunch that Joey had his heart in Krista rather than her even with the kiss he had bestowed on her. Charlie called to Scott from across the room right then, and he raised a finger to them, and then he strode away from there. Sam turned to Alex and he looked on at her, puzzled and with both hands still around the base of his tea cup.

“Alex—will you hang with me on New Year's Eve?” she asked him.

“You're asking me to hang with you?” he echoed her.

“If you don't mind,” she told him with a shrug of her shoulders. He shifted his weight and flicked his black curls back from the side of his neck. The hair dye still held up but she could see it fading away from his hair. Those grays were persistent in how they didn't want to be hidden away.

“You know what?” he said. “I'd love to. Are we going back to Catalina or somewhere else?”

Sam hesitated for a second. That house up in Reno was empty but the memories still remained there.

“Let's go somewhere else,” she told him. “Has Testament ever toured Reno?”

“Uh, we've toured in Vegas. But—not really, no.” He gazed on at her, those deep eyes so deep and soulful. “Why?” He squinted at her.

She brought the tines of the fork to her lips but she never said anything to him. His face then lit up and he snapped his fingers.

“That reminds me,” he said.

“What's that?”

“I have something to give you,” he told her.

“More and more gifts each and every time,” she joked.

“Well, it's because we love you,” he declared. “You don't give gifts to people when you don't love them.”

He took another sip of tea and then he gestured for her to follow him into the front part of the restaurant, right to the front room and back in the direction of Joey and Krista.

“Careful with the mistletoe there,” she noted, to which Alex leaned his back towards the wall and let her go ahead to the other room. He then bowed after her, right underneath that little lush sprig of mistletoe. He joined her right by her side all the way back to the front door.

There was that small space right next to the door: near the front of the whole stack stood his guitar case. He crouched down to the floor and he nudged it to the side: Sam lingered next to him with her hands pressed to her hips.

“Let's see, I think—Eric had it stashed with him,” he said aloud, “like I showed it to him right before our second night in Reseda and he was like 'yeah, I'll keep it safe for you, Alex.'” He then lifted his gaze back up to her.

“Seeing as you just have your little purses,” he started, and he took out a large red wine colored handbag with a small five petaled flower comprised of large mismatched beads sewn to the front: a flower that reminded her of the oleanders there in the south land. It was obviously handmade but the sight of it made her gasp.

“Oh, my god, Alex—this is beautiful.”

“I just think of the glorious guitar strap that you and Belinda made for me for my birthday last year,” he confessed, “and I decided to make something of my own for you. I just see you with your purses and all the stuff you put into them, and at one point, I thought, 'man, Samantha could use something a little bigger, but I'm not finding anything larger, though.' It was actually an effort from me, my brother, and both my parents—I don't know the first thing about beading. But I suggested it to my mom and she goes, 'okay, honey, I'll give it a shot.' My brother and I picked out the color and the fabric, and my dad pieced it together—”

Sam threw her arms around him before he could finish his sentence, and then he returned the favor. Those long spidery fingers caressed over her back and her hair.

It was going to be the first New Year's Eve in which she would have no one to kiss especially if Joey was going to tease like that. But then again, Alex stood there next to her with his body close to her. The warmth of his body. The softness of his white skin and his jet black hair.

She looked right into his round boyish face and he showed her a little grin, albeit one full of imperfect teeth.

“So where do you wanna take me?” he asked her.

“I'll take you to the place I know all too well,” she told him. “It's a long drive, though.”

“I'm up for it,” he promised her. “As long as we get to see Anthrax in Long Beach the night before.”

“Of course! And that's Zelda's birthday, too.”

He gaped at her.

“Oh, shit, really?”

“Yeah. I just now remembered it, too. She threw it at me during the Stormtroopers of Death tour. I can't believe I still remember it, too.”

“Wow,” he said in a hushed voice. He adjusted the collar of his shirt and she slung the bag over her shoulder.

“Does it fit?” he asked her; and she brought the bag itself close to her hip.

“Like a glove,” she promptly replied.

“Excellent!” He flashed her a thumbs up.

“We have to go back to Catalina, though,” she told him. “Just—you know. Tell my mom what's up and whatnot.”

“Day after Christmas, though.”

“Of course,” she told him and with a nod of her head, “of course, of course, Alex. If she rubs your butt again, I'll tell her about it. Don't you worry.”

He fetched up a sigh and then he bowed his head a bit. He stepped back for a better look at the handbag under her arm. She brought it up before her thighs: the bud of the oleander was comprised of five small black onyx beads, much like the ones on the bracelet Chuck gave her, as well as one large wooden bead. Light pink and white beads meanwhile made up those five petals for that familiar poison flower.

“It almost looks like a book bag,” he noted. “Like something you take to school.” He froze right then. “By the way, are you even still in school?”

“I don't think I am,” she confessed. “I never got any pieces of mail from there—no grants or anything. As far as I know, Bill ended the whole entire career for me.”

“That greasy bastard,” he proclaimed. “Talk about not practicing what he preaches.”

“Right?” she laughed. “Although if I'm honest, Alex, I almost felt restrained while in school.”

“Well, I'm gonna relay the same thing Eric told you earlier—if it feels right, you're probably right.”

“Hey, Alex!” Eric himself said right behind them. “Biscuits are here.”

“Oh boy!” Alex rubbed his hands together, and Eric spotted the handbag under Sam's arm.

“Oh, hey, you found that in my case!”

“Sure as hell,” Alex replied.

“Thank you again, too,” Sam told him and they embraced one last time before Alex hurried back to the table with Eric. The warmth stayed in her face as she walked back to Scott and Belinda.

It was only fair to herself and Joey after all.

[gagmebucky]

thank you to taylor @blessedbucky​, mia @theamericanfalcon, liz @marvelous-mr-stark, raechel, shayla, lauren, courtney, em and tina for allowing me to write this content as well as my beta reader kat @angel-fire​! love you all!

read the full synopsis and excerpt // read chapters snippets here.

o. in which you accidentally send your nudes to your brothers’ best friend. (includes reader’s pov, bucky’s pov, mentions of sexting.)

—

Initially, taking the photos—exposing yourself in such an intimate state to another—you were hesitant. It wasn’t the possible repercussions, i.e. revenge porn, that gave you pause but more-so an insecurity in your own body. Having never done something like this before, you briefly dithered between whether you should or not. 

Ultimately, however, you do. The guy had spent money on you, went through the trouble of finding something you’d like and shipped it discreetly. And when you slip the racy number on, your insecurities wash away and leave excitement in its wake. Everything about it you love, and it has you preening in a solo photo shoot you’re eager to show off. 

After a good time of selfie shutters bulking your phone’s storage—positions of you scantily-clad standing, sitting, a cross of both—you finally relent. There’s too many pictures to pick from, but you do. Three poses that optimize the best aspects of the outfit and that you think he’ll like the best have you buzzing in anticipation of his reaction. 

Giddy, you tap them directly on the album app and click the share button; you input the letter B in the ‘To:’ slot. Since there’s only two contact names under that letter, his name shows up immediately, the first with the nickname Bucky beneath it. You gloss over that and in quick succession, you quickly hit the contact and press send. 

For a split second, you’re proud: you’ve taken this e-relationship to the next level like he wanted, and he’ll be happy with you. Then it hits you like a brick through glass. A replay of your actions travel to your brain, and you belatedly realize what your eyes saw—your thumb smearing too low on the screen, so instead of Brock as the recipient, it’s Bucky. 

“No, no, no!” you whisper as your heart hurtles like a jackhammer stuck in your rib cage. 

A part of you insists it’s your paranoia playing tricks on you, and that’s a valid rationale because this whole thing does worry you about getting caught. Except, upon checking its legitimacy, you confirm what you accidentally did. There’s no mistaking it, now, because with your brightness turned up full, your partially nude figure stares you in the face underneath of a thread between you and your brothers’ best friend. 

James Bucky Barnes—the man who’s nicknamed you bambi because the numerous times he’s seen you face-plant over your own footing, the twenty-four year old who still ruffles your hair when he greets you, the soon-to-be business owner who dates certified models—has a trio of your attempts to be seductive; bottom lined with text you hope comes off likewise seductive.

Mortification swallows you. Your skin burns hotter and hotter by the second. Sure, you’ve embarrassed yourself before: you fall a lot, and you’re awkward conversationalist. But never something of this magnitude, not something that makes you seem so desperate and pathetic. 

You can imagine him opening the messages. He’d immediately assume, understandably, it’s a come-on; a girl trying to be a woman’s failed goal to enthrall a man like him, his best friend’s kid sister’s pitiful effort to be anything other than just that. As if you could ever measure up to the types of women he dates. 

And, yes, there’s been a time where you had a crush on him. But it’s not your fault when he looks like how he does, a rugged example of masculine sex appeal, and treating you the way he does, teasing but with a twist of kindness, and the fact that he’s the only non-blood related man allowed near you. 

But that time has passed. Even then, you knew the one-sided attraction was delusional to have. You were—still are—so sure about it that you never even dared to fantasize about him and the rumors that used to trek behind him about his sexual escapades. There’s no hidden desire to be with him, and that worsens it because it’s not like you’d feel any relief in knowing his reaction. You don’t care about his reaction in the first place!

Now, no matter how much you will insist it’s an accident, there will always be a dubiousness about it. With how close your families are, things are going to be tense. Because there’s no forgetting he’s viewed you like that, and there’s photo evidence of it. 

It hits you then. The extremity of your fuckup douses you in ice, and your muscles freeze because you register that since he knows about your family borderline patriarchal values concerning you, he has to tell them you’re taking nudes, and it will be over for you. 

It has taken you twenty years of your life to finally venture outside what your family has allowed, to sate your curiosity of what exactly your fathers and older siblings have kept so strictly from you: sex and all the goodness it entails. 

It has taken you an additional six months to explore in-depth and build the courage to start something tangible, to wander the depraved side of the internet where strangers did things to each other that made you want to do things with someone of your own: stirring foreign but oh-so amazing feelings in your nether regions. 

For twenty-six weeks you carefully treaded across in order to ensure your family had no clue what you’re doing, clearing your web history and using incognito mode, all your accounts anonymous, keeping your notifications on silent in case anyone becomes suspicious of who’s continuously contacting you. 

One hundred and eighty-two days later—in the middle of which you started your sex-based communication—of preparing to lose your virginity, your family will find out what you’ve been up to, and your life will be hell. 

Everything has been going so perfectly. You found a guy enough distance away he isn't affected by your family’s influence, middle-aged so he’s experience and doesn’t mind handling a virgin, and is willing to drive an hour to meet you at a specified hotel when the time comes.  

All that hard work down the drain. 

You toss your phone and jump to your feet. Panicked, your bare feet pad back and forth on your rug-covered wood floors. Your teeth gnaw at your thumbnail as different scenarios of how everything will transpire flit through your head. Each one is more terrible than the last, and your anxiety heightens. 

Somewhere in your disquietude, it occurs to you. Your brothers are downstairs and so is Bucky, but it’s ten o’clock at night, and that means they’re gaming. That particular activity coined a rule that all players have to stow their phones in the guest room. The specifics are blurry but it was something about Bucky interrupting the session due to excessive texts. 

It’s an opportunity. A chance that you can creep downstairs, swipe his phone and delete your mistake—hell, you’ll break his phone if you need to—before he’s any the wiser. 

“And—” Bucky Barnes drawls out the vowel as the rough-textured ball hurls through the air and swishes sharply into the hoop. “—nothin’ but net.” He relaxes from the perfected basketball follow-through stance, hands dropping to his sides, while he regards his old friend with a cocky smile. “Beat that, Rogers.” 

Steve snorts and catches the ball when it bounces onto the concrete. Palming it in one hand, he dribbles it twice and trades positions so instead of being stationed next to the hoop, he’s descended to the driveway curb where the established three-pointer line is. 

“You still got it, Barnes,” the blond admits, loosening his shoulders and spreading his footing to be a width apart. His right hand balances the ball from below, elbow tucked underneath, while the left splays against the side as his knees bend, and he springs up. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he releases the orange sphere at the top of his jump. It catapults in a flawless arc and drops through criss-crossed netting with a similar swish. His lips curve with satisfaction as he adds, “But, so do I.”

Bucky laughs and seizes the ball as it falls free. “Callum and Henry have no idea they’re going to get obliterated,” he says, coming to slap his palm in an affable embrace. “Fair warning, they’re still as sore losers as they were five years ago so be prepared for that.” 

Steve Rogers chuckles. The former fourth to their high school cliquè, he’s aware of just how bad sports they are. 

After graduation, he left out-of-state to pursue a degree in technological engineering, which he acquired last month in May, prompting his return back to New York. Between the four of them, Bucky and Steve are the level headed ones so he’s glad to have the support to handle the wild children his childhood best friends are. 

“Speaking of,” Steve starts, dirty blond eyebrows knitting as he glances around the neighborhood’s cul-de-sac. “Where are they? I thought Henry was supposed to be waking up Callum? If we aren’t starting yet, then can I get my phone back?” 

Bucky clicks his teeth. “Yeah. They’re probably stuffing their faces right now. Their sister went grocery shopping and got a cake so. . .” He waves his hand in gesture before continuing in vehement passion on the second point, “The whole phone thing is bullshit, though. I miss a few winning shots ‘cause I was busy with some pretty little thing texting me, and now there’s a ‘no technology rule’.” He scoffs and folds his arms. 

Now that he thinks about it, he could totally have his phone right now. And he’s more interested in having it than usual. There’s this girl he’s been seeing frequently at local parties—six feet tall with gorgeous brown skin, always done up in intricate eye makeup, silver tongued (he’s very interested in her tongue) when she speaks—and he’s finally gotten her number. She could be texting him, and he doesn’t even know it! 

“You know, yeah, we should get our phones back if those assholes want to take all day,” Bucky decides, agreeing with steps toward the closed storm door, but opened front door until he hears the inquiry:

“How is Y/N, anyway?” Steve’s voice is genuinely and harmlessly curious behind him, and he stops in his tracks because Bucky remembers the poorly hid crush he harbored for you. “I saw her instagram the other day, and she must be quite the heartbreaker.” 

Spinning around to face him, Bucky lifts a brow. “Huh?” Then he processes the implication that you’re out dating and such. The mere prospect has him surprising laughter. 

With their dad and his girlfriend on a tour of the world, the three of them are the only ones in the household. Given you’re the baby of your siblings, despite being an independent twenty-year-old, your older brothers have taken it upon themselves to ensure you focus solely on school work. Callum and Henry know exactly how to threaten their message across that you are not to be bothered, and anyone who tries will end up battered and bruised. 

He shakes his head. “Nah. She’s not with anyone, hasn’t been ever,” he tells him. “If you thought Callum and Henry were overprotective back then, you should see them now.” 

Gunmetal blue eyes blink surprised at him, and there’s a faint battle between delight and disappointment. “Really?” He shoves his hands in his sweats and falters somewhat. “It’s gotta be hard considering the way she has grown up,” he says but Bucky’s face scrunches in confusion. “You can’t tell me you don’t see how cute she is.” Before he can respond, Steve adds, “Obviously I wouldn’t ever see or be with her in that way—I wouldn’t betray Callum or Henry like that—but objectively, you can admit she’s gorgeous, right?” 

Bucky has to take a moment and genuinely consider it—consider you—because he hasn’t before. (Other than noticing the genetic similarities to Callum, who shares your eye and hair color but is a shade lighter than you, and Henry, who shares your complexion and eye color, but his hair is darker than yours.)

There’s no denying your looks are better than most: the structure of your face works beautifully, dazzling eyes framed by your lashes and occasionally accentuated by mascara, lips usually adorned in gloss or anything that keeps them hydrated which could be described as alluring, and your hair is almost always done, sometimes switched up in style. But there’s an inherent innocence there, a sweet and clumsy awkwardness, and maybe because he’s watched you grow up, four years your senior, but it just doesn’t do it for him. 

You’re his best friends’ baby sister, for God’s sake. He’d never at you like that in the first place. Especially not when he’s been aware, in the past, you harbored a schoolgirl crush on him. It was painfully obvious, to your chagrin, but he found it adorable—flattering but unsurprising considering girls flock to him like seagulls to boardwalk french fries. 

Currently, he’s sure you know he won’t ever pick you—under principle, under the lack of attraction. Other than pleasant smiles and occasional small talk mixed with teasing, you don’t gaze at him with starry eyes anymore, at least it’s waned significantly as you matured. 

Back to the question: “Uh, no, not really. Even if Callum and Henry didn’t care, I don’t think I’d be attracted to her,” he answers truthfully. Your purity doesn’t provoke his sexual attraction although it does invoke a duty of protectiveness. “She just isn’t my type.” 

Steve arches a brow, a surprised playfulness in his expression. “Oh? Then what is your type, then?” he asks, nudging him with his elbow. ‘Cause from what I remember you’re up for anyone and everyone.”

“That makes me sound like a whore,” he feigns offense but digresses into a fit of chuckles as he thinks back to all his various sex-capades and Steve flashes him a look that says aren’t you? “Yeah.” He nods with a prideful chortle. “But I’m into more frisky girls, y’know? Ones who’ve been everywhere and done everything. They’re brass and loud and just do whatever the fuck they want. I like to be one of those things.” 

Behind him, his best friend, Callum’s orotund voice rings out between the pressurized shh of the storm door, “Buck’s into slutty girls, Steve.”

He cringes at the diction. “Don’t call ‘em slutty. Sounds degrading when you guys say it like that.” Most of the time, he agrees with him—and his brother—but when it comes to women, there’s usually a dissent and a need for correction. “But yeah. I prefer girls with experience,” he declares strongly. “They don’t get attached like girls with... less experience do.”

Callum rolls his eyes, bounding down the porch stairs to the recently pressure-washed driveway, and he plucks the basketball out of his hands. “Here we go again. Bucky and his ‘I hate virgin’s’ campaign,” he mocks, shaking his head. “Doesn’t make any sense to me ‘cause everyone knows virgins are the tightest.”

This time, Bucky is the one to roll his eyes. “Well, that doesn’t make any sense considering tightness isn’t dependent upon whether it’s their first time ‘cause, y’know, vaginas stretch, you morons.” Sometimes he has no clue how Callum passed sex education (then he remembers that he bribed the health teacher). “Meaning a girl can have sex, then after a period of time, her virgin ‘tightness’ eventually returns. The only reason virgins may seem tighter is because they’re usually nervous.” 

The look on Callum’s face says that what he just said went right over his head. “Whatever.” He shrugs and starts dribbling the ball half-heartedly. “I just know the woman I end up with better be a virgin.” 

“Right!” Henry’s likewise orotund voice, a pitch higher, speaks after he pushes through the glass door. He presses to the court-slash-driveway, wiping icing off his mouth. “That’s marriage material. I’m not fucking around in a relationship with no woman that’s been fucked already, y’know?” 

Bucky’s eye twitches, jaw locking for a millisecond. “But you guys aren’t even virgins yourself,” he points out their hypocrisy. When they look at him to rebuttal, he automatically knows it’s going to run his blood pressure up and it’s not worth it. “You know, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You guys have fun with your conversation.” 

Swiftly, he whirls around and heads for inside. The last thing he hears is Steve’s ambivalent, “I get the appeal of virgins. But you know, I don’t think it really matters. I think it just matters if you’re into them, and if they’re into you. I wouldn’t care either way but. . .” 

The air conditioned air greets him coldly, and he revels in it. The June sun is killer, though perfect weather for playing a game outside, and the chill dries the sweat beaded on his forehead. He pads down the foyer, turns the corner to the bathroom and enters to take a much needed leak. 

Bucky has so much brotherly love for your brothers: neighbors since being in diapers, his mother the female figure in their life, and becoming and remaining best friends for over twenty years. There’s only one thing that grates his nerves when it comes to them and that’s their view of women is somewhat skewed. Sometimes—most of the time—went the topic comes up, he’s always one second away from throttling them. 

Hopefully after he pisses, they’ll be talking about something else, and finally they all can play basketball. It. 

Flushing the toilet, he goes onto wash his hands. He lathers up in orange antibacterial soap and rinses the suds off with hot water. There isn’t a towel, at least not a clean one, so instead he just lets the remaining droplets drip onto the floor. 

Emerging from the bathroom, James pauses and absentmindedly wipes his hands dry on his mesh-polyester shorts. His attention automatically draws to the guest room’s closed door adjacent to his position. A decision strikes him, and he steps forward and casts a curious glance down the corner. 

When boisterous and distracted laughter filters through the front door and down the empty corridor, it springs him into action. He figures there’s no harm in checking his phone while he’s here. He’d been especially resistant to giving it away because he’s engaged in a particularly stimulating conversation with a particularly titillating woman—popular in her own right, he can’t afford to miss his shot with her. 

His fingers turn the knob, and he shoulders through. The furniture is decorated and accented in yellow and white, condition otherwise pristine, save for the phones littered across the king-sized poster bed’s fluffy duvet. He strides across gleaming light oak floors and hones in on the only golden-colored, rubbed encased titanium. 

As he grips it, long digits curling around the back, pinkie supporting the bottom, thumb tapping the screen to life, he can hear the dwindling of high-spirited jesting through the en-suite’s rectangular horizontal slider window; a wondering of where he’s gone has him speeding up. 

Although he’d been gone for under an hour, his screen is bright with various notifications, social media accounts and text messages. He ignores the former and searches for the latter, specifically the contact, Val 😛💦. Scrolling quickly, he comes to a stop but not because of his original intent. 

His head cocks, and he knits his brows when he sees your name instead; formally nicknamed, bambi, due to your penchant for clumsiness and general fragility. You don’t text him—except for that one time you needed to be picked up from the library—and considering you know he’s just outside, his baffled curiosity is further spurred. 

With a sideways swipe of his thumb, your thread enlarges on the high-definition display. He isn’t sure what he expected, but this? Oh, this, definitely is not it. His eyes widen as the content loads, and reveals you, in all your half-naked glory. 

“Shit,” he breathes out raggedly, blinking multiple times because he has to be seeing things. But, nope, it’s still you—looking like that, wearing that. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your brothers are beginning to call his name, demanding his attendance, and he froze in shock, unable to tear his stare away from the girl who’s tripped over her own feet more times than he can count; the wallflower who spends all her time studying in her room; the forbidden fruit who’s innocent has always stirred a vigilant feeling inside him—now stirring something hard between his thighs because there you are. 

Like always, your hair is done prettily, wispy-lashed eyes big and inviting, a saucy pout to your glossed lips. Your flawless complexion seems to glow in the reflection of the mirror, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the warm lighting, or if it’s the confidence you exude in your faux-innocent expression from where something so sinfully sexy. 

Three photos, and every single one is like a punch in the gut; displaying your usually hoodie-hidden figure in its bare, exquisite form. The skimpy white two-piece caresses your breasts in a lace halter top, leaving a teasing amount of cleavage. Your navel exposed, he becomes aware of how soft your skin would be. Moving lower, your untouched flower is wrapped in a thin thong with a bow on the center of the waistband. 

A million things flit through his head; a million disgusting things he never thought he’d think about you. 

The main one is every sort of attraction these snapshots arouse. A laser slices down his center and sears him to the core. The multiple poses calls every hungry part of him to attention, the curve of your breasts, the contours of your hips and the jut of your ass. And he shoves to the darkest recess in his mind because that’s just an innate reaction to lingerie. (Right? Right.)

He combats your images with that of Val: knows-what-she’s-doing and equally promiscuous as him Val. The anthropology major who downs beers within seconds and tongue kisses the first person she sees afterwards. 

The next is the one he focuses on, that you would take these and send them to him—as if he’d betray your brothers like that. Second-hand embarrassment strikes him because he knows if you’ll send something as risky as this, he’ll have to formally reject you and break your unreciprocated pining heart. 

He grimaces at the thought. This is why he doesn’t do virgins and the less experienced in general. The inherent strings are a killer, and he resents the drama; and it’d be ten times worse with you because of the added complications of your siblings. 

In fact, he hears something beyond him, coming down the hallway, and it’s probably them, but he can’t stop rereading your text accompanying the photos, partially imagining how it’d sound in your delicate voice: 

bambi (4:21PM): is this as pretty as you imagined? did i do good? just tell me what you want, and ill do it. i want you. soon, please - and yes, ill beg. i promise itll sound even better in person. 

[read it in its entirety on my patreon - one time fee of $5 to access!]

[illfoandillfie]

Interloper

Request:  Sorry if this is a weird request but can you do a thing where the reader is apart of Queen and after a concert Roger, Brian and John just pass her around like she’s just holes to fuck but when they’re done they’re all super soft and sweet (and Reader’s maybe a little snarky)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Brian May x John Deacon x Reader

Warnings: Big Ol’ Smut-fest - 18+!, Hate fucking (kind of?), oral sex (m receiving), degradation, facial, handjob, unprotected sex, anal, light spanking, orgasm delay, choking, nipple play, tit fucking (blink and you’ll miss it), free use,dom/sub dynamics (sub!reader)

Words: 5990

A/N: I seem to have gotten myself a reputation for writing group sex and honestly i love that for me. (Is it my brand?) Anyway, I hope the anon who requested this enjoys it!

Taglist: @laedymoon  @somekind-ofcheese @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @bowiequeen

The stadium was darker now than it had been when you left the stage. It was quieter too, no longer drowned in the noise of the music or the crowd. They’d been wild, making you feel truly welcome on the stage for the first time since the tour started a week earlier. You sighed and dropped what remained of your cigarette next to your previous one, grinding it under the heal of your boot. If you were lucky the boys would have already headed off to the afterparty, left you to get changed in peace and make your way there in your own time. It was part of why you stayed behind, hidden in the wings as you watched the last of the crowd drift out and roadies pack up the instruments and dismantle the lighting rig. You’d needed a smoke anyway, and to try and burn every second of the show into your long-term memory, so it was the perfect excuse. Although, you would have done anything to avoid the rude comments and criticism that were sure to be hurled in your direction had you headed backstage straight away. Because that’s all you’d been getting lately. Not from Freddie, though if anyone had a right to bitch and moan it was him since you were playing second vocalist. Brian’s attitude you could also understand since they had you on guitar for a couple of songs too, but John and Roger had absolutely no right to treat you as appallingly as they had been. You thought it was out of some stupid sense of band loyalty but Freddie insisted it was because they missed shagging you. Maybe you were both right.  

Your footsteps echoed off the walls as you made the solitary journey back to the dressing rooms to change into something a little less stage worthy but no less eye-catching, praying you’d find it empty. You were almost there when you heard voices coming from the other end of the corridor. It had to be them on their way out. With a deep breath you squared your shoulders and held your head high and kept walking right at them. Roger whacked into your shoulder as he passed you, with far too much force for it to be an accident.  “Watch it arsehole,” you spat at his back.  He flicked the V at you.  “Out of the way,” Brian snarled as he shoved past you, followed by a snickering John. You ignored them as best you could, continuing on your way. Clearly the phenomenal show had done nothing to change their minds. If anything, they were more aggro now, having seen the audience, their fans, embrace you wholeheartedly. Freddie was a few steps behind them, flashing you an apologetic look as he reached you, but you waved him off.  “It’s fine,”  “Their being right cocks and you know it.”  “Yeah but I don’t know how to get them to stop. I’ve tried explaining, I’ve tried reasoning, I’ve tried being a bitch, I’m giving up. Clearly it doesn't matter to them that we used to get on so well, so I’m done trying.”  “They need a good stern talking to. Sit them down like naughty schoolboys and yell for a bit.”  You laughed, “Yeah, maybe."  “All I know is It's getting boring, this winging.”  “For me two Fred. But they can’t keep it up for the whole tour, that’s bloody months. They’ll have to get sick of it soon.  His shrug was disheartening but he didn’t have a chance to say much more as Brian called for him to hurry up.  “Do you want me to wait for you?”   “Nah, you go ahead,”  He nodded, leaving you with a squeeze of your shoulder. You took your time getting changed into a short tight dress, sequins around the hem to catch the light, perfect for a party and, bonus, not stinking of your sweat, before grabbing your stuff and heading out to the car.  

The party was in full swing when you got there, music blaring and drinks flowing. You rolled your eyes at the sight of Brian chatting up a woman almost young enough to be his daughter and skirted around them on your way to the bar. You were two shots in, starting to wonder which of the people making eyes at you would be worth your time, when you felt a hand on your waist. Turning your head just enough to see him out of the corner of your eye you realised who it was, cutting him off before he could utter whichever godawful pickup line he was about to use.  “Fuck off Roger, I’m not who you’re looking for.”  His hand slipped away from you, “Oh for fucks sake, it’s you.” He was slurring just enough to notice, “Thought you’d be off slutting it up by now.”  “Isn’t that your job?”  “Pretty rich coming from someone who blew her way to the top. At least I fucking worked for it.”  “You know I worked for it too,”  “Sure, worked at suppressing your gag reflex.”  “God I am so fucking sick of this shit. How many times do I have to tell you none of it was my fucking idea? Freddie was the one who set up the meeting with the record company and they were the ones who thought it’d be a good idea to stick me on the album. I didn’t volunteer for this. Believe me, if I had shagged myself into a record contract I wouldn’t be hanging around with you pricks. I’d be releasing my own album with my own songs.”  “You used to like our pricks. Couldn’t get enough of them.”  “Jesus, Freddie was right.”  “About what?”  “Nothing. Sod off would you? There’s a guy over there who looks hung and easy and your scaring him off,”  “Not me, love, your atrocious singing’s done that already.”  “You’re such a wanker.”  “Bitch,”  “Cunt,”  “Now now children. Meant to be a party.” Freddie said, tapping on the bar for another drink.  “It’s fine Fred, I’m...”  “Don’t you dare say you’re going. This is your party too and it’s much too early for a cohost to leave,” he turned towards Roger, “pull your head in Rog, just for one night.”  “Can’t believe you’d take her side in all this, she’s a fucking bitch,”  “Used that one already Rog, getting sloppy.”  “Oh enough already. I’m sick of the constant bickering. Where are Bri and Deaky��we need to have a band meeting, upstairs, now.”  “Christ, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”  “Just find them.” 

Freddie charmed the key to a function room out of the bartender’s hands and the two of you made your way upstairs. You both fell silent as you waited in the dimly lit room. There were a number of large round tables covered in white table clothes, each surrounded by chairs. Some of them were still laid out with cutlery and half-drunk jugs of water, left overs from whichever event had finished before your party started, the staff called away to help man the bar and offer appetisers to everyone downstairs before they could finish tidying up.  “Wonder what was going on in here?” you asked as you sat in one of the chairs  “Wedding reception?” Freddie ventured, halfheartedly.  You both fell silent, not entirely sure what else to say. He’d listened to you whine about the other three enough times to know everything you were thinking and you could tell his patience was wearing thin. It took the others about twenty minutes before they joined you, grumbling the whole time.  “C’mon Fred, what’s this about? Ruined my shot with Tabitha just now,”  “Tabitha? That’s a cat’s name,”  “Shut up Deacy,”  Roger laughed as he dropped into a spare seat, already pushed out from a table.  “Shut up all of you.” Fred said loud enough to make them pause.  John turned away from Brian, looking for a place to sit, when his eyes fell on you, the grin sliding off his face, “What’s she doing here? Thought this was a band meeting?”  “It is,”  “She’s not part of the fucking band Fred,”  “On this tour she is.”  “No way,” Brian half shouted, “If that interloper is here then I’m going,”  “Brian, fucking hell, just stop for two seconds.” Freddie stepped in front of the door to block Brian’s path, and looked over to you. For a moment you thought he was going to try and appease Brian by throwing you out but instead he just said, “give them a right bollocking,” before darting out the door and slamming it shut. All four of you were frozen until you heard the unmistakable sound of the lock and then Brian was at the door, jiggling the knob and yelling, “let us the fuck out of here Mercury, or I swear to God.”  “Not until you sort your shit out.” Freddie yelled back, “I’m off to have another drink, I’ll be back in a few hours and I expect you all to be friends by the time I return.” 

“This is all your fault,” Roger pointed at you, catching the attention of the other two, “You shouldn’t even be here,”  “And why not?”  “Because you’re not part of Queen.”   “You heard Freddie, I am for this tour.”  Your statement was met with scoffs of derision and rolled eyes.  “Jesus, what is your problem?” You turned your back on Brian to glare at John and Roger, waiting for someone to answer. John was the first to speak, surprising you. His resentment had always been a bit quieter than the other two, whispered comments and underhanded criticisms rather than outright name calling. If anyone had been taking bets you would have placed your money on Brian throwing the first stone.   “Our problem is you. Just turned up one day and started singing”  “And playing guitar,” Brian chimed in.  “Yes, exactly,” John continued, pointing at Brian to emphasise his point, “And we had to change shit to accommodate you.”  “It was okay for a song or two but a whole album?” Brian scoffed, “And then we were told you were joining us on tour! Is it gonna happen again with the next album? It’s like your trying to worm your way into a permanent place in this band and we don’t like it.”  “Groupie’s aren’t meant to be on the fucking stage with the band they whore around for.” That was Roger.  “Jesus fucking Christ,” you got to your feet, unable to sit still any longer, “You’re acting like fucking children. You know full fucking well I didn’t organise this and if you really have that much of a problem you can take it up with any of the execs. It was all their idea. Easy way to get my name out there since I’m already acquainted with you.” You paused for a moment to take a breath, “Freddie was fucking right about you. You’re not upset with my performance. You know damn well I can sing and obviously everyone else thinks I’m good enough to be here. No, the real reason you’re all pissed off is that I don't fuck you anymore.” the longer you spoke the louder you got, feeding off the stunned looks the boys were giving each other, “You’re threatened by me because I used to be your groupie and now I’m standing in your spotlight. You’re mad that I’m getting the same sort of attention you used to get from me. Bet you get a little jealous every time you see me with some other guy. Maybe I should take it as a bit of a compliment though, since apparently no one else can suck or fuck as well as me.”  Minutes passed in almost silence, the only sound you huffing as the rage at weeks of mistreatment was released. You caught your breath, and still no one talked. The silence felt like it was closing in on you, pressing against your ears as you waited for one of them to say something in return. When none of them did you brought your hands to your hips and stared them all down, “Nothing to say? Guess that means I’m right. So I’ll make you a deal.”  “A deal?” Brian was trying to act unimpressed but there was curiosity in his tone.  “Tonight. I’ll give you tonight like I used to before you all turned into giant fucking arseholes. And in return you stop bitching about me being here. I’m not going anywhere so either you can accept my offer and be nice to me for the rest of this tour, or you can spend the next couple of months being petty dickheads. No skin off my nose what you choose. Either way I walk away from this one step closer to releasing my own music.”  “What do you mean tonight?” Roger asked, leaning forward in his seat.  “I mean that for the rest of the night I’m yours. You can share me around, do whatever you want with me, treat me like your own personal slut. And then tomorrow you’ll be nice to me. You’ll complement my singing instead of picking apart my performance. You’ll keep your rude comments and name calling to yourselves. And you’ll accept that I’m playing with you until we get told otherwise. Deal?  The three of them looked at each other. Clearly that was the last thing they’d expected you to say.  “Well? Are you in? Because if not I’m happy to try breaking down the door instead.”  “Knees. Now.”  “Jeez, alright Rog,” you rolled your eyes at his sudden shift, “d’you want me to call you Sir as well, or will my silent obedience suffice?”  “God she’s got a mouth on her,” John said, stalking towards where you stood in the middle of them all, “think it needs to be filled.”  “You always did like my mouth, didn’t y-” you were cut off by the way he grabbed your face in one hand, fingers and thumb pressing into your cheeks.  “Bitch has got an attitude problem,” he announced to the other two before lowering his voice and speaking directly to you again, “Now kneel like you were told to, so we can fuck it out of you.”  You nodded as much as you could, cheeks aching under his firm grip. He held you for a moment longer, staring at you as if he were daring you to talk back again, before he let you go. You fell to your knees instantly, looking up at him as he undressed methodically. You would have helped him tug his pants off except that Roger moved to kneel behind you, holding your wrists firmly behind your back while he leaned into your ear.  “You can call me Sir if you like. Daddy works too, know you get wet just saying it. Whatever you choose I hope you’ll remember to keep being good for us, love. We’re gonna use you every single way we can think of tonight. Show you how frustrated we’ve been with this whole situation.” The hand he wasn’t using to pin your wrists moved over your body, making you breakout in goosebumps as he teased your nipples through the fabric of your dress.  “Remind us what your safeword is,” John said, stepping closer as he lazily stroked his dick.  “Saxophone,”  “Saxophone. Good. Now open wide,” he tapped the tip of his cock against your lips and you took him in. Roger’s grip on your wrists tightened as your hand twitched, your instinct to wrap your fingers around John’s cock trying to take over. Instead you had to content yourself with bobbing down his length, pressing your tongue to the underside as you adjusted to him.  “Good girl,” he cooed softly, “gonna deepthroat me like a proper whore.”  You hum caught him off guard and he bucked his hips into you. The gag you made in response ruined any chance you’d had of taking your time to adjust, sending John into a frenzy and encouraging him to make you gag again and again. Before you knew it, he was holding your head steady as he fucked your throat, unrelentingly. Between John’s grunts and Roger’s hand, still toying with your breasts, you were completely oblivious to Brian. So, Roger releasing your hands and Brian yanking one of them up over your head, was a complete surprise. You placed the other against John’s thigh as Brian nudged your open palm with his semi-hard cock, rubbing himself against you until you closed your hand around him. Your position made it difficult to jerk him off properly, but you could feel him getting harder as he rutted into your hand. Roger took advantage of his now free hands, trailing both down your body and onto your thighs before dragging them slowly up and under the skirt of your dress. You could feel the sequins around your hem scratching lightly over your skin as the material was pushed to bunch up around your waist. You jerked your head back, releasing John with a pop as Roger rubbed your clit over your underwear. He stopped too soon, making you whine, and instead placed a hand on the back of your head.  “Thought you said we could do whatever we want with you. Don’t recall anyone saying you could stop,” he pushed your head forward again until you were once again gagging around John, “now this was your idea so you’re gonna be a good whore and take what we give you.” He gripped your hair and pulled you back before shoving you down again, all the while talking in your ear, “John wants you to swallow so you’re gonna swallow. If we want you to beg, you’ll beg. Whatever we give you, you will take and you will thank us for it. We’re going to use every inch of you. We don’t care how prettily you sing for everyone or how much money you make for the execs. We only care about how well you take our cocks, understand?”  You had no hope of responding as John resumed thrusting into your mouth but Roger didn’t seem to mind, more concerned with feeling you up. 

John’s hands replaced Roger’s on your head, his grip tightening as his orgasm drew closer. Each jerk of his hips had you gagging, mascara ringing your eyes where tears had clung to your eyelashes and been blinked off. He came with a string of grunted curses, filling your mouth, and ordered you to swallow before he let go of you, streaks of bright lipstick left in your wake. Brian gave you the few seconds it took for him to move in front of you and kick off his pants before he was grabbing your hair and pulling your mouth to his cock. With both hands free you clung to his legs, creating small, crescent shaped indents on the back of his thighs. You only noticed Roger’s absence when John, sunk to his knees beside you, his fingers taking up where Roger’s had been, prying your underwear away from you for long enough to shove his hand inside and run his fingers along your slit, pausing at your clit to rub it softly.  “God you’re fucking soaked,” he laughed, “Don’t know why I’m surprised. You came up with this little plan way too quickly for it to be spur of the moment. I think you’ve missed being our fuck toy. Probably been looking for an excuse to present yourself to us like this. I think you like being used by us and I think you missed having your holes full of us. Missed how we taste, how we make you feel,” his fingers pressed harder against your clit briefly before shifting back to the softer touch, “I think the spotlight of the stage can’t compare to the rush you feel knowing you’ve been a perfect whore for us.”  You whined around Brian earning a panted laugh from him,  “That’s right, slut,” he said from above you, “keep making those sounds. Know you want me to cum in your mouth. And all it does is prove us right.”  John pushed a finger into you, and another of your whines was muffled by Brian, burying his cock in your throat, holding you with your nose pressed into his pubic hair. A shiver ran through your body as your dress was unzipped, falling open to expose your bare back. Your chest tightened, screaming for air, and you frantically tapped on Brian’s thigh. He let you go, reeling backwards with a final gag as he slipped from your mouth and you were free to gasp for air.   “F-fuck,” you managed to choke out as your dress was unceremoniously pushed off your shoulders and down your arms. Brian was still in front of you, hand sliding up and down his shaft as he readjusted his other hand in your hair, pulling your head up a little higher.  “Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he growled, holding you still. The last thing you saw before you shut your eyes was his hand speed up, working himself to release his load over your face. Some of it landed on your tongue but more splattered over your cheek and chin.   Brian chuckled as he ran two of his impossibly long fingers over your chin, pushing the cum up to your lips. You dutifully sucked on his fingers but a loud bark of laughter distracted both you and Brian. 

“What the fuck are you doing carrying lube around in your jacket, Rog?” John was collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles.  “What? Thought that girl with the big arse might show up again tonight, wanted to be prepared.”  “You’ve been wearing the jacket all day, how long has it been in there?”  “Not that long, Crystal got it for me after the show. But y’know,” he pushed on your back between the shoulder blades until you fell forward onto your hands, “you wanna make fun of me, you won’t get to fuck her arse.” He brought his hand down onto your backside, making you jump. You felt your dress being pushed up to your waist, and your underwear being slipped down your legs until they were tangled around your knees. There was a brief pause as you heard him unzip is his pants. The next thing you expected to hear was him popping open the lube, but instead he eased into your cunt. He went slow but it made your breath catch in your throat all the same. Once he was buried in you as deep as he could go he began to pull out again, almost all the way before he snapped his hips forward, driving back into you hard.  “Oh, fuck,” you gasped, letting yourself collapse on your arms, resting your head against them. You could feel the last of Brian’s cum smearing across your cheek and onto your arm as Roger continued his slow pace. You’d almost forgotten about the lube until you head him flick open the tube. It was cold against you when he squirted a generous amount over your arse, carefully using his fingers to begin stretching you out. You moaned, the combination of his fingers and his cock pushing you steadily closer to orgasm. But not fast enough. You moved your arm, slipping it under your body with the idea of rubbing your clit until you came.  “Would one of you stop her?”  John grabbed your arm and pulled it back before you could get your fingers where you wanted them.   “No, please, I need more,” you whined, shifting your other arm out from under your head. Brian grabbed that one, both of them pinning your wrists out in front of you.  “Please let me touch,” you said into the carpet, trying to wriggle free of their grip. Roger brought the hand that wasn’t occupied down on you again, drawing a yelp from you.  “Told you we were gonna show you how frustrated we’ve been. So you don’t get to cum that easily. If you’re good you’ll be rewarded.”  He picked up his pace, rolling his hips into you faster, making you cry out though he wasn’t angled quite right to hit your g-spot. Without warning he pulled his fingers from your arse and you found yourself being yanked up, Roger’s hand wrapping around your throat to hold you against his chest. You could hear Brian laughing as your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned, only for Roger to squeeze your throat and cut it off. For a moment you floated there, willing Roger to just make you cum, but the sound of a chair being dropped in front of you brought you back to the room. John sat down and leaned forward to grab your tits, tugging on your nipples until you winced.   “Y’know, going bra-less was completely unnecessary in that dress. Just more proof you wanted to whore around for us.” He said as he used his hold on your nipples to pull you away from Roger’s chest. Roger’s hand remained tight on your throat as John slid his cock between your breasts, using his grip and the motion of Roger’s thrusts into you, to push them up and down his shaft.  “She likes it when you call her a whore. Fuckin’ squeezes her cunt.”  “Is that right, huh? You want to be our pretty cumslut that badly? Good. We’re gonna cover you in it. Gonna fill you so full of spunk you won’t be able to move without it dripping down your legs. And you’re going to beg for it, aren’t you? Go on, beg roger to cum in your pussy.”  “Pl-ease, Roger, please cu-m in my pussy.”  “More,” Roger growled as he rammed into you again and again, rapidly heading towards his climax.  “Pl-please cum in me Rog. I nee-ed it. Want, want to fee-l you fi-ll my pussy.”  Roger slammed into you twice more, hard, holding himself balls deep in you as he hit his release, grunting, voice strained as he told you what a good whore you were. 

You whined as his softening cock slipped out of you and he moved aside. But you didn’t have time to miss the feeling of being filled too much before Brian was placing his arms under your shoulders and lifting you to your feet. John stood and pushed your dress and panties from you completely, leaving you naked. You let them pull you around, barely able to concentrate on anything other than the ache between your legs and the tight coil in your stomach that felt like it could spring loose at any moment. John pushed himself onto one of the tables, legs dangling over the edge as Brian lifted you up too. You were unceremoniously dumped on John’s lap, his hands pulling you until you were lined up with his cock. He swatted at your thigh. You squeaked and sunk down onto him, rocking against him.  “Where’d that lube go?”  There was some shuffling noises from somewhere behind you followed by a triumphant, “aha!” and then John was grabbing your hips to stop you as Brian came closer. When he spoke he was right behind you, his breath on your ear sending a shiver down your spine.  “Since Rog was so good as to stretch you out for me, shouldn’t have any problems taking my cock,” he turned and spoke over his shoulder, “Thanks Rog.”  “Yeah yeah, whatever,” Roger said, voice distorted by the cigarette between his lips.  You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around John’s neck as Brian spread your cheeks and began easing himself into you. John teased you the entire time, rolling your nipples between his fingers as he told you how hot you sounded whimpering like you were. By the time Brian was fully sheathed inside you, you were panting against John’s shoulder, desperate for one of them to move properly. You squirmed between them, trying to encourage them to fuck you but neither was having it.   Brian slapped your thigh, “Hold still. You’ll get to cum once you’ve proved you can be a good slut for us.”  “I will. I am. I promise I’ll be the best slut you’ve ever had, please just fuck me.” You whined, lifting your head up so they could all hear you properly.  A chorus of laughter followed, even as you continued to beg. You were cut off mid word as Brian pulled back and plunged into you again, starting slow but rapidly picking up speed. John leaned back on one hand, his other resting on your hip, letting you rock forward on his cock with every one of Brian’s thrusts. It was by no means the first time you’d ridden John or the first time you’d let Brian in your back entrance, but you’d never had them both at the same time before. You were left completely breathless, feeling fuller than you ever had in your life. Brian was in your ear, breath coming hard as he semi-coherently grunted his thoughts about how fucking tight you felt and how much he’d missed fucking you like this. His hands were all over you, trying to find the best way to hold you as John did the same, occasionally knocking each other out of the way. The closer to the edge he drew, the tighter John held you, pushing himself to sit up a little more so he could grip you with both hands. It was intoxicating, feeling both of them practically fighting over where they could touch you, hold you, the almost innocent skin to skin contact making you burn up. Your own moans were rising in pitch as Brian slammed into you repeatedly, each thrust making your clit drag against John’s pubic bone. You shook as you finally came, feeling Brian still behind you, shooting ropes of cum into you as he groaned in your ear. John dropped his head to your shoulder as you clenched around him, swearing as he came.   “Shit,” he gasped as his orgasm subsided, “Was planning to cum on your tits. Pussy just felt too good though.” 

You could feel the mix of his and yours and Roger’s cum dripping down the inside of your thigh as John gingerly helped you off the table.   “Does that mean she’s ready for me again?” Roger asked, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back. You whimpered as he spun you round, pushing you to bend over the table. He wasted no time, plunging into your arse as you balled up the crisp white tablecloth in your fists.  “Like you best like this, a fucked out whore, all placid and obedient. No more snarky fucking comments. Just holes begging to be filled.”  You cried out as his fingers found your clit, relentlessly determined to push you over the edge again. Cum dripped out of you with every shift of your hips, little drops hitting the floor between your feet. All you could do was whine and moan as Roger ruthlessly used you, gasping and groaning himself.  “Attagirl,” Roger gently cooed when you came, shaking. He slapped your arse again as he drew closer to the edge, leaning his whole body weight on you as he fell over it. He removed himself from you and helped you to stand, catching you when your legs began to give out. You were gently lowered to the floor where you lay down, arms spread wide, breathing deeply.  “You look good like this,” Brian said, kneeling beside your head, “Makeup all smudged, sweaty and dripping. You look used.”  “You laughed softly as he lifted your head and shoulders, propping you up so you could lean against his knees.  Roger reached out to brush a sweaty strand of hair from your face, “Are you okay?”  “Yeah,” you cleared your throat to make your voice stronger, “Especially since you’re all being nice to me again.”  “Sorry we were such pricks, promise you won’t hear another bad word from us. Unless it’s well deserved.”  Before you could respond John was dropping beside you, a jug of water in one hand and a handful of paper napkins in the other.  “Sorry, door’s still locked so we can’t actually get to the bathroom or anything. But I found these on one of the tables, if you wanted to clean up.”  You thanked him, dipping the corner of one napkin in the water and taking it straight to your face, scrubbing to remove the remnants of Brian’s cum from your cheek.  “Hang on, love, missed a spot,” Roger said, taking the napkin from you and swiping at your chin. You could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible, smiling at you when you thanked him. Brian’s fingers found their way to your arms, trailing soft, calming lines up and down your skin as you relax into him. John did a similar thing over the calf he’d knelt beside, although it felt less deliberate than Brian’s movements.   “Do you want some help cleaning up the rest of it?” John asks, pointing vaguely between your legs, cheeks still slightly flushed from the exertions of the previous few hours.  “Jeeze Deaky, give her a chance to recover before you try and get started on round...what are we up to?”  “Bugger off, that’s not what I meant,” John says, shoving Roger slightly. He turned to you, “I swear it wasn’t. You just look tired.”  “I know, John,” you reassure him, “but I think I’d rather do it myself. Sensitive and all that.”  Brian dipped his head down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, “None of us have said it yet but you were wonderful. Firstly, for suggesting it and also for taking it all so well.”  “Y’know it’s a bit of a shame you didn’t add to the mess, Brian. Could have had all three of you leaking out of me.”   “There’s still time,” Roger said, grinning mischievously at you, “technically you did promise us the rest of the night, and if I’ve gotta hold my tongue around you for months then I’d like to get as much use out of you as I can.”  “He’s right, you did say all night. And I’m certain we could find plenty of other ways to keep you busy.”  “Are you guys serious?” you said as you tilted your head back to look up at Brian, “You really wanna go again? Now?”  “Don’t worry, we’ll need a bit of time to recover first.”  “Perhaps,” John said, leaning in slightly, “Once we get out of this room, we can take you back to the hotel and figure out what else to do with you. Personally I’d like to see your tits painted with cum, but I’m sure the other two have ideas of their own.”  “Might have to stuff your panties into your cunt to stop any more from dripping out of you.” Roger said, voice low and rough, making you clench your thighs together.  “I guess I did say all night,” you said, trying not to sound too excited, “but this means I get to write a song on the next album.”  “Don’t push it, love. Just because we’re being nice doesn’t mean we’re over it.” 

By the time Freddie remembered to come and get you the four of you had redressed and cleaned up the mess you’d made. He’d opened the door to find you sitting around talking and laughing.  “Well this is different,” his voice drew your attention, “Thought I’d come back and find at least some evidence of a fight. But instead, no yelling, no broken chairs, no black eyes.”  “We came to an agreement,” you said shrugging, “They’re going to play nice from now on.”  “Y/N you common hussy, you fucked them all didn’t you? You know that’s not the sort of bollocking I meant.” 

[splendidlyimperfect]

It's been twelve weeks in quarantine and the boys decide to head to Gray's parent's cabin for a weekend of isolation.

Chapter Summary: The boys get to the cabin and talk about their future together.

Chapters (2/3): 1 | 2 Fandom: Fairy Tail Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Natsu/Sting/Rogue/Gray Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Fluff, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Lazy Mornings, Soft Boys, Dorks in Love, Sharing Clothes, Teasing, quarantine fic, weekends at the lake, Talking About The Future, mentions of depression, disgustingly sappy as usual

-----

Gray got the hoodie for the drive to the lake.

“I don’t like driving,” he said as he leaned on the counter and watched Natsu pack the cooler. “It makes me feel better.”

For a second, Natsu was concerned. Gray hadn’t had any nightmares lately, and it wasn’t close to the anniversary of the accident. He was about to ask what was going on when saw the tiny smile pulling the corner of Gray’s lip.

“You’re the worst,” he said, shaking his hand and throwing a banana at Gray. “Pulling the trauma card is my trick.”

Continue reading on AO3

“Hah, so you admit that you’re perfectly capable of loading the dishwasher then?” Gray tossed the banana back and Natsu caught it in midair, then added it to the pile of food for the cooler.

“Look,” he said, opening the fridge and grabbing a six-pack of beer to toss in the cooler. “I had a traumatic brain injury.”

“Yeah, two years ago,” Rogue said from in the pantry where he was searching for granola bars. “Sting’s the only one who falls for it anymore, love.”

Sting, who was still packing in the bedroom, stuck his head out the door. “I don’t fall for anything,” he insisted, and Natsu blew him a kiss.

“How does a brain injury prevent you from loading the dishwasher, exactly?” Gray asked. “And don’t you dare try to say it hurts your hip to stand for that long because you went to see Taylor Swift and stood in that crowd for four hours, and you were fine.”

Natsu sighed in defeat. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But reading still sucks.”

“That’s because you’re dyslexic,” Gray insisted. “The neurologist said your brain is fine, so don’t even.”

“Says mister ‘I-have-PTSD-and-can’t-drive-so-I-should-get-the-hoodie.’”

Gray rolled his eyes, then leaned forward and reached over the counter to grab Natsu’s arm, pulling him in for a kiss. Natsu hummed happily, returning the kiss and rubbing his nose against Gray’s. “You’re in a good mood,” he said softly.

Gray nodded, pressing their foreheads together. “The meds are helping,” he said. “The new ones, I mean. They taste gross but I feel better.”

“Good,” Natsu said, running his thumb across Gray’s cheek. The teasing tone faded from his voice as he added, “I was worried about you.”

Gray sighed. His depression had been wavering on unstable before the lockdown, but after two months of being stuck in the house, it had gotten so bad that he’d spent most days either irritable or in tears. He’d finally called his psychiatrist after Sting had found him crying in the shower at two in the morning and had had to carefully talk him down from, I don’t even want to be alive anymore.

“I know,” Gray said, and Natsu kissed the pink flush that crept across his cheeks.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “We love you. And you’re not the only one who takes meds, right?” He gestured to the basket of pill bottles to the coffee machine that contained his ADHD pills, Sting’s anxiety medication, and Gray’s antidepressants.

“I still think the pharmacy should give us a group discount,” Rogue said, coming around behind Gray and wrapping an arm around his waist.  

Natsu laughed, kissing Gray’s cheek again before leaning back and returning to filling the cooler. “I tried telling that to the pharmacist last time I was there, but I don’t think she thought it was very funny.”

“She probably wasn’t taking you seriously because you were buying Disney-themed gummy vitamins,” Gray suggested.

“Mm, and the bottle is suspiciously empty, so I know I’m not the only one who’s been eating them.”

“They taste good!” Sting insisted from the bedroom. “Except the pineapple ones.”

“I like those ones,” Rogue said.

“Aha! So you are eating them.”

Rogue shrugged and Natsu stuck his tongue out at him, then closed the fridge and the cooler. “All right, I think we’re good,” he said. “We ready to go?”

“All good,” Sting said, coming out of the bedroom with two duffle bags. The contested sweater was draped over his arm and he looked back and forth between Natsu and Gray with his eyebrow raised.

“Gray can have it,” Natsu said as he headed for the front door and grabbed another sweater from the rack. “I’m just gonna steal his instead.”

~

The drive to the lake took nearly three hours, but Natsu’s Spotify playlists kept them entertained. The sky was a bright, clear blue, and trees lined the highway, occasionally giving them a glimpse of the Georgian Bay. They stopped in Parry Sound for Starbucks, and by the time they reached the lake, even Gray was singing along to Kesha.

“God, I love this place,” Natsu said as they unpacked the trunk. Gray’s parents had owned the tiny cabin since he was a kid, and the four of them typically visited at least twice over the summer. The lake was visible from the front porch, bright blue water stretching out under a cloudless expanse of sky.

“Burgers for lunch?” Sting shouted from the porch, gesturing at the barbeque.

“Hell, yes,” Natsu said, grinning. “I’m starving.”

“We literally ate breakfast before we left,” Gray said, fond exasperation in his voice as he bumped shoulders with Natsu. “How are you already hungry?”

“How are you not?” Natsu argued. He gestured for Gray to grab the other handle of the cooler and help him carry it into the cabin. The inside was rustic and welcoming – all wood beams and handmade curtains sewn by Gray and Silver.

“Who’s sleeping where?” Rogue asked, dropping one of the duffel bags in the middle of the living room.

“Dibs on the big bed,” Natsu said, pointing to the master bedroom. The other two beds were twin-sized ones where Gray and Lyon used to sleep as kids. “Sting, you with me?”

“Actually,” Gray said, “can I, uh… be with you?” He gave Natsu an uncertain look. “I don’t wanna sleep alone right now, and I swear I’m not playing the trauma card for the comfy bed.”

“I know you aren’t,” Natsu reassured him, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Of course you can.”

Rogue gave Gray a fond look, then grabbed one of the bags and headed into the ‘kid’s room.’ Sting started unpacking the cooler, tucking everything neatly into the fridge and leaving out the ingredients for lunch.

They ate on the deck after Gray and Natsu had wiped down the table and cleared the spiderwebs from the deck chairs, and Sting sighed happily, leaning back in his chair. “Can we just live out here for the rest of our lives?”

“Mm.” Gray hooked his foot around Sting’s ankle under the table. “I think the kids at the daycare might miss you. And there’s no coffee shop out here for Rogue to work at. Plus, you’d miss having internet after a week.”

“Fiiine,” Sting said, sighing dramatically.

“We could retire here,” Rogue suggested.

“Pff, in what, forty years?” Natsu snorted, taking a sip of his beer.

“You’re telling me you’re still gonna work in a daycare when you’re seventy?” Gray raised his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Natsu conceded, “Maybe a little earlier than that.”

Sting looked thoughtful and Gray nudged his foot. “What’s up, sunshine?”

Sting smiled at the nickname. “Nothin’,” he said, reaching out and taking Gray’s hand. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Just…” Sting stared at their joined hands. “About us. Being… I dunno. Forever.”

Natsu raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Just… I mean I know we can’t all, um…” Sting’s cheeks started to turn pink and he ducked his head, trying to hide his blush behind the hair he’d been growing out. “Y’know. Get married.” He ran his thumb over Gray’s ring finger. “And that’s fine—I just, talking about retiring together, it’s… nice. Knowing that you guys want this forever.”

“Of course we do,” Rogue said, leaning against Sting’s shoulder. “I’ve never wanted anything else.”

“Don’t worry, we’re all gonna be grumpy old men together,” Natsu teased, but Sting could hear the fondness in his voice. “Who else is gonna put up with me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sting muttered as Gray squeezed his hand.

“I don’t…” Gray hesitated. “I dunno what I’d do without you guys. And I mean that in a lot of ways.” Natsu made a soft sound and reached out to rest his hand on Gray’s leg. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—I just…” He looked up and gave them all a soft smile. “I love you all. A lot. And I know I don’t say it as much as everyone else does, cause I—we all know I suck at this shit.”

“Gray—” Sting tried to reassure him, but Gray shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. I just mean that talking about feeling is hard for me, but I love you all, and I want this forever.”

“Good,” Natsu said. “’cause you’re stuck with us.”

“I think I can handle that,” Gray said, laughing.

Rogue kissed Gray’s cheek. “It’s so good to see you happy, love,” he said. “I love your laugh.”

Gray groaned in embarrassment and turned his head, pressing his face to Rogue’s shoulder. “I am happy,” he said quietly.

“Okay, now that we’re getting into ridiculously sappy territory,” Natsu said, “I love you all too and you’re my absolute favorite people in the world.” Gray glanced at him with a small smile on his lip. “You had enough talking about feelings?” Natsu teased.

“Mm.”

Sting kissed the top of Gray’s head. “Why don’t we head down to the lake?” he said, gently changing the subject. “It’s hot as hell out here and I wanna go swimming.”

“Excellent idea,” Natsu said, nodding and standing up to clear off the table. “I get to cool down and check out three hot shirtless guys.”

Gray rolled his eyes, squeezing Sting’s hand and kissing Rogue’s cheek before getting up to help Natsu.

“You want me to do your hair?” Sting asked Rogue, gesturing to his messy ponytail. Rogue nodded and shifted over, tugging out the elastic to let Sting braid it.

“You’d better hurry up,” Natsu said as he nudged the door open with his foot to head into the kitchen. “’cause the last one into the water is cutting firewood for tonight!”  

[megalony]

I do love you- Part 7

Another part of my newest Roger Taylor series, thank you for all the lovely feedback and comments.

Taglist: @marshmallowmae  @mcrmarvelloki  @langdonzvoid  @butlegendsneverdie  @jennyggggrrr  @reedusteinrambles

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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(Y/n) didn't recognise the reflection she was faced within the mirror, but she couldn't decide whether it was a good thing or not.

The person looking back at her wasn't the version of herself that she had come to look at for so many years. The old version didn't look like she had come face to face with death himself and walked away from him. The old version of herself didn't look about ready to drop down to the floor in a coma and simply never wake up again which was exactly how (Y/n) was feeling in the inside. This new version was broken.

But maybe there were good points to this version too. This version of herself could call herself a mother. This version could say that she was no longer Roger's best friend, but his partner in life and crime. This new upgrade could say she had gone to hell and walked back out.

Roger's dark green jumper that was very snug fitting on her frame was the kind of comfort (Y/n) had been searching for these past few weeks when she had been stuck in an itching hospital gown. The leggings clinging to her frame was the kind of clothing she had desired. Her own clothes- and Rogers- that made her feel comfortable and at ease, it reminded her of home. Home was also something that the new version of herself had that was different from the old version. Home now included Roger, something (Y/n) had never thought about before, something that sent a wave of butterflies swarming through her stomach and chest.

Maybe soon home would also include James if he got well.

It felt like years ago since (Y/n) had been back to her apartment and she dreaded to think what it looked like now. Roger wasn't the most organised person, she knew that from the beginning so she was expecting the apartment to have boxes and things thrown about here and there when she went home. The nurse had declared that (Y/n)'s liver was now healed from the damage it had been subjected to, her protein levels have dropped to their normal level now. Meaning the feeling of walking around in a daze was almost gone, the sickness had disappeared and her headaches and general unease had disappeared. Since James had been born the pre-eclampsia had been treated and now had gone too, so (Y/n)'s vision was not at risk, her liver and blood were not being broken down or damaged and there was no threat to the rest of her body.

She still didn't feel one hundred percent but that was to be expected apparently so it was nothing to worry about. As long as she came back for regular check-ups for another eight weeks just to be sure her liver was coping and her blood pressure wasn't too low or high then (Y/n) was in the clear.

Meaning that today she was free to go home with Roger who had only been back to the apartment to get a very quick shower and grab some clothes and anything (Y/n) needed. Going home now meant that the couple couldn't be with James whenever they wanted, they were going to have to drive back and forth to come in during the day. When Roger couldn't sleep at night he usually crept down the corridor and sat with James just to check up on him and make sure he was alright. The nurse had scolded him more than once when she did her rounds and found him fast asleep in the chair. Now if Roger couldn't sleep or if he was worried about James he would have to wait until the morning to go down and see him.

The band were taking time off from recording in the studio- well, Roger was taking time off. Freddie, Brian and John were still working on a few things here and there but they couldn't do much without Roger and they could hardly ask him to come to work when his family needed him more

"Fancy some visitors?" Roger's voice broke (Y/n) from her overwhelming thoughts.

Turning her head from the mirror to the door of the room (Y/n) locked her eyes onto Roger. Seeing he had one hand on the door handle and the other on the door frame, leaning partially into the room with a brighter smile on his face than she had seen these past few days. A smile pulled at her lips as she nodded her head, watching Roger walk into the room, waving his hand for the unknown visitors to come in too.

Pulling the sleeves of the jumper over her hands (Y/n) watched the door carefully, waiting to see who had turned up to see them. The smile on her lips widening when Rosie suddenly bundled into the room, her eyes darting around before landing on (Y/n). Her small arms reaching out as a squeal left her lips, jumping on the spot to silently ask for (Y/n) to pick her up. Leaning down she wrapped her arms around the five-year-old she had known since the day she was born. Gently scooping her up and holding her to her shoulder, a wave of happiness rushing through her since she hadn't seen the little girl in over two months now.

"How are you dear?" Looking up (Y/n) smiled when Freddie appeared in the doorway, a warm yet knowing look on his face.

"I'm okay." (Y/n)'s health was no longer in danger and James was stable and steadily getting better little by little so there was no fear pulling her down like a weight she was carrying everywhere with her. They still had a long way to go with James yet, but so far he was doing okay and that was all that mattered.

"So..." Roger started, walking over to the pair knowing that what he was going to tell Rosie wasn't going to be exactly what she wanted to hear. The little girl had been begging Roger whenever he had popped down to see her to take her with him to the hospital. Desperate to see (Y/n), especially when she learnt that the baby had been born already. Roger had decided to wait until now to let her come down and therefore had kept it a secret if she had a brother or sister. He knew Rosie was desperate to have a sister, she had insisted every time he saw her that it was a girl, now she was going to learn that wasn't quite the truth. "Do you want to go and meet your baby brother?"

Leaning down (Y/n) gently set the five-year-old down to her feet, all three adults watching as Rosie turned to look up at Roger, a sudden frown appearing on her face that resembled him so much. Her eyes narrowing into a frown as she thought for a moment.

"Sister! Baby sister." She corrected, a pleading look in her doe eyes as she stared up at Roger. Reaching out to wrap her arms around his leg as she waited for his response, seeing in his eyes that he wasn't going to correct himself because he was right. Shaking his head he tried to bite back an amused smile at how she quietly whined in protest, shaking his leg causing a smile to appear on (Y/n)'s features. Always used to seeing the little girl get her way when around Roger, she had him wrapped around her little finger and she knew it too.

"No princess, baby brother. I told you I couldn't choose, come on let's go pay him a visit. He wants to meet you." Giving his leg a little shake to try and get Rosie to move Roger watched her release his limb, moving over to where Freddie was holding his hand out for her.

"You don't want a sister darling, this way you're the only princess." Freddie whispered, giving her hand a small squeeze before they walked out of the room. Waiting for either Roger or (Y/n) to show them where to go, neither having seen James before. Rosie seemed to think for a moment as they walked down the corridor before nodding her head in agreement. Roger was prone to calling her the nickname of princess, and it made her feel special. Having a sister meant Roger would be likely to call her that as well which could, in turn, make Rosie feel left out or less special.

When the four of them reached the ICU Roger turned around and gently picked Rosie up, carrying her into the room before making his way over to the incubator holding James. Knowing the map of the room and the surrounding corridors that he could walk with his eyes closed.

"Rosie, this is James."

Leaning out of Roger's hold the five-year-old planted her hands down on the top of the incubator so she could look down at her brother properly as all three adults watched her in amusement and intrigue. Walking over to Roger (Y/n) stood at his side as Freddie stood opposite them, his attention also stolen by the little boy as it was his first time admiring his nephew.

"Can I?" Freddie questioned quietly, a look of excitement on his face as if he were a child on Christmas who had spotted their presents. His hand indicating to the opening in the incubator as the couple nodded eagerly. His movements were slow and precise as he very gently grazed his fingertip over James' cheek, his smile widening if possible when the newborn moved his head against the new contact. His left arm moving up slowly prompting Freddie to take hold of his hand that fit perfectly against his fingertip.

"Do you want to hold his hand, honey?" (Y/n) questioned, seeing a sparkle come to life in Rosie's eyes as she looked to Roger before nodding. Both saw that she was a little worried but eager all the same.

Gazing around them Roger pulled the chair he frequently used over again, sitting down with Rosie on his lap before he took hold of her hand. Reaching into the incubator Roger set Rosie's hand over James' smaller one, kissing the back of her head as he watched her delicately take hold of his hand. Not daring to move her hand at all, simply brushing her fingers over his own, marvelling at how small he was and how he looked just like one of the dolls she would frequently play with.

"What's that?" Rosie's voice was quiet as if she were afraid to break the silence that had started to surround them all. Her finger pointing towards the feeding tube in James' stomach which was near Roger's hand, the drummer gently rubbing over his son's chest.

"That's to feed him until he gets better." (Y/n) responded, moving so she was sitting on the arm of the chair. If skin contact really did help with newborns then James should be calm and getting better, having never had so much attention like this before.

"Is he feeling sick?"

"Yeah, but he's getting a bit better now." Roger responded, his head leaning against her own as all of their eyes were focused on the little boy currently drifting off to sleep in front of them. Moving his gaze from James to Rosie, Roger looked down at her wondering what she was doing when a sudden idea seemed to pop into her mind. Her hand very gently letting go of her brothers, setting his hand back down cautiously as if he were made of glass she didn't want to break. Reaching out she took hold of Roger's hand, pulling his hand out of the incubator before pushing his hand near his face as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "What are you doing?" He questioned with a small laugh, leaning his head back when she nearly hit him with his own hand.

"He needs a magic kiss. You always do that when I feel sicky, it will make him better." There was determination in Rosie's voice as she pushed Roger's hand near his face again, intent on making her brother better.

Tightening his other arm around her Roger smiled at the thought that made tears form in the corners of his eyes as he brought his hand to his lips. Kissing the tips of his fingers before slowly reaching back into the incubator, pressing his fingers delicately to James' temple before brushing across his cheek as if for added measure. Something inside of him begging for this to work, that maybe this once there would be a hint of magic instead of just love. Rosie was very young so of course, she believed that when Roger gave her a 'magic kiss' to make her feel better it worked. Even if it took a few days for her to get better she still believed it had worked.

"He'll be better now. It's magic." Turning so she was facing the incubator properly, Rosie rested her arm on the top of the incubator. Leaning against it as she gazed down at her brother with a smile, her hope infecting them all.

[getoutofthewater]

@dbhrarepairs Friday Day 5: Unexpected Rescue

[Tina/Chloe]

Rating:  T

Warnings: None

Words: 4,101 [AO3 Link]

Notes:  Sailor!Tina / Mermaid!Chloe AU

To say that nobody had wanted her to do this was an understatement; her father had told her that if she went and did such a thing he didn’t want her to shadow the step of his house ever again, while her mother and sister cried. Tina felt very sorry for them, especially for Amy. Her younger sister had been the perfect child to their parents, always did what she was told to, even when she was told to marry some buffoon only because it was a good match to push forward their Dad’s trading business.

Their Dad had gone to Tina first, being the eldest, but Tina had put her foot down on that, and her father had too much sense to push it, let’s his eldest daughter offend the head of the Wang family and ruin the professional and personal bonds he and his wife had been cultivating so carefully for years

“Anyhow” Mrs. Chen had told her husband “Amy is prettier, younger and a better cook, Enjie Wang really should be glad you are offering her hand to his son, Yifei looks like a diseased penguin”

Amy had married the diseased penguin, but who had helped her sister through her very frightful first pregnancy? Who had held her during her morning sickness, and gone to the shops no matter how late because she wanted something to make her feel better, it had been Tina.

Yifei, had done nothing, he never did anything around the house (not even watch after the children), just like their father; while Amy wasted away with pregnancy after pregnancy, and Tina did the chores (cooking, laundry, cleaning) none of it was good enough for their father and Amy’s husband however.

Tina had no intention of staying around, when Gavin had told her he was going to go work in the docks, with the hopes of being a sailor, she’d envied him so much. Why could he go and have adventures while she had to stay home? Where her parents expected her to marry some other selfish, ugly man Tina would have to have ugly children for and pick up after him just as if he were another child, one she’d never be able to get rid of until she grew old, tired and bitter and she outlived him out of spite.

She’d told Gavin she wanted to go with him, she could do anything he could do. He hadn’t laughed at her, as anyone else would have done, or screamed at her, as her father would do.

“You watch my back, I watch yours, Chen!” Gavin said with a smirk

She’d told her father she wanted to live with Gavin at the docks, because she was a truthful daughter if nothing else. Her parent’s first thought went to her virtue, which was never safer than when she was with Gavin, since Gavin didn’t look at women that way, and Tina didn’t ever notice men more than she was forced to; the fact that Gavin was the saving grace of the sex in her life seemed to point at some really great flaw within the entire human race.

“I’m not eloping with Gavin” Tina said “I want to work at the docks with him!”

That’s when her father had told her if she did such a thing she didn’t have to bother coming back, and so she hadn’t.

At first she pretended to be a man, Gavin cut her hair, got her clothes she fixed to fit to her short height by herself, William Tayloring it all around the place had been easy enough, until they were expected to live all on top of each other like the rats in the ship with the other seamen, still they had gone almost two years like that until she’d been discovered and taken to the Captain. Gavin barked so much about it he’d been taken with her, an accomplice, when he could have just kept quiet and wash his hand off her mess.

“You can’t sack us you dick!” Gavin was shouting as soon as they entered the Captain’s cabin “Chen and I do more for this piece of crap ship than 10 of those other useless pricks”

“Yeah!” Tina said, although she wasn’t in any way a jaw-me-down like Gavin was, they had to pull together right now “I have been doing everything Gavin has for years, why can’t women be sailors too?”

“Most seamen are superstitious men” One of the High Officials said to her, his pale blue eyes cold and steely “Women in ships are bad luck, they anger the sea gods, they say”

“The figurehead of the ship is a woman!” Tina argued

“A topless woman can appease the seas“ Master Allen said matter of factly

“I wonder who made that up!” Tina said, not that Tina didn’t enjoy looking at the beautiful, full figure and ample bosom of the figurehead, but her point still stood “And unless you think sea gods are as easily tricked as mortal men, they haven’t seem to mind me being here”

“Having the crew be… distracted would be dangerous in itself, on top of any superstitious hysteria she may cause” Master Allen was really Tina’s least favourite crew member

“Who would be distracted by Chen?” Gavin said in honest disbelief “Look at her! If there’s a girl less like that figurehead it’s her”

“Yeah!” Tina agreed

“Am I to understand there’s nothing between the two of you?” Captain Fowler inquired

“For fucks sake!”

“Over my dead body, disgusting!”

Gavin and Tina said looking at each other like they had not seen anything more repugnant in their lives

“And it’s not like I want anything from any of the rest of them either,” Tina said firmly “I have seen them in the nude and throwing up and pooping, the smell of the sleeping quarters is something else, They have showed me some pretty nasty stuff, rashes and boils in their, you know, ‘roosters’”

“Miss Chen!” Allen said in a tone that perfectly replicated that of Tina’s mother

“I feel sorry for all their wives, quite frankly,” Tina continued “and by the way, I think Kayes should really be seen by the doctor”

“Ugh, yeah, what the fuck’s that” Gavin added “eggs or what?”

“Right?” Tina said “I swear I saw them move”

One of the officials laughed, a warm, fatherly laugh “Jeffrey, I never took you for a superstitious man” he said with familiarity

“All sailors are superstitious, Hank”

“I say we take a shot at it,” Hank Anderson insisted “It’s true that Chen has been doing an excellent job, I would be really sorry to lose her, I have had my eye on both Chen and Reed for a while”

“What if the men get rowdy over her?” Allen said

“We throw them overboard” Anderson said with a shrug, “Just as we would if anyone tried to harm a fellow seaman, wouldn’t we, Fowler?”

“That’s sounds sensible,” Captain Fowler said, while Allen looked as if he had just drank something really sour “These two are your problem now, Anderson” the Captain said dismissing them with a gesture of his hand

“Out of here, then” Anderson said to them “You have work to do… I’ll send our good doctor to see Kayes too”

“And I better not hear you calling my ship a piece of crap again, Reed” Captain Fowler added “Or I’ll be throwing you overboard personally”

“Captain” Gavin said with a nod

“We’ll make the Chicken Feed proud, Captain Fowler!” Tina said as they left the Captain’s cabin

“How drunk was I exactly when I took on your suggestion for the ship’s name, Hank?” the Captain said sorrowfully  

Tina heard Lieutenant’s Anderson’s laugh and felt like she could conquer the world,

“We’ll make the Chicken Feed proud” Gavin mocked her “Always the teacher’s pet, Chen”

“Shut up, Reed” She said bumping against his side.

Her fellow seamen took it better than expected, some apparently with extreme relief. She slept just as usual with Gavin right by her side and if anyone held any sort of resentment or ill will towards her they kept it to themselves. Nothing changed really, except she felt lighter being able to go about her duties as herself, not having a secret to hide, she felt she really could serve in the ranks of the Chicken Feed until her final days.

That good will among her fellow mates lasted only one week, when their ship found herself near huge chunks of ice, they hadn’t been expecting that, nor the stormy clouds that seemed to close over them as if attracted to the ship, the men looked darkly at her then, as if all of it was somehow her fault.

“You okay, Chen” Miller asked

“Yes, of course!” Tina said confidently “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Chris was a gentleman and as such he now worried over her, but Tina didn’t hold it against him, he really had done so even when he thought she was a guy, always trying to help her just because she was smaller than the rest, ‘Don’t try to prove yourself just because some of them are assholes, alright?’ he’d told her with the tone of an older brother ‘the sea is dangerous and unforgiving, better alive than dead on some stupid dare’

Chris smiled at her with that same older brother warmth now “We’ll weather the storm and everyone will forget about silly superstitions, I for one wouldn’t have anyone else by my side than you and Reed, if things are going to get a bit ugly”

And they did get ugly, the storm hit them close to midnight, the waves the biggest and angriest Tina had seen in all her travels yet

“Chen! The sails!” Lieutenant Anderson shouted at her,

She nodded and went deftly up the mainmast. She was the lithest of the crew, she was always sent up the mast because she was the fastest and most agile, she could get it done in half the time of anyone else on the ship. She climbed just as usual, not expecting the wind to be this strong and cold. Somehow her numb hands slipped off the rope, she lost her footing, and the next thing she knew was that she was falling, she didn’t hear anything, only the air rush deafening her ears, something hit her and then she was in the water.

Her first instinct on hitting the cold icy sea was to breathe in, she was in pain, and the blow of the waves had hurt more than whatever part of the ship her body had collided with. She was drowning and she couldn’t tell up from down to get to the surface. Nice legacy this was going to be, she thought vaguely, she was shutting this line of work for women everywhere. Tina Chen would go down in the archives as one of the women that confirmed sailing with the fairer sex on board was a cursed endeavor.

Something tugged down at her leg, dragging her even deeper into the water, Tina turned wildly in the dark sea trying to see as the last bubbles of oxygen went out of her lungs; was it something that had gotten tangled with her leg when she fell? Was it a sea creature? But what she saw made no sense.

There was a girl, the loveliest girl Tina had ever seen, she’d never seen anyone that beautiful not even in paintings. The girl’s silky, blonde hair floated around her, her skin was almost translucent, and her blue eyes twinkled like stars made of the clearest aquamarine. It seemed like Tina’s brain really knew what she’d want to see last before everything went dark forever.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and the girl seemed to gasp in surprise, at least that was her expression, Tina couldn’t hear anything but the water in her ears. The girl let go of her leg swimming upwards to grab Tina by her shoulder instead. Only then did Tina notice the fish tail.

Tina’s head broke the surface of the wild sea; she coughed and gasped for air, breathing in half air and half sea water from the stormy waves, only managing to steady herself enough thanks to the girl… fish… mermaid creature.

“Tina!” She heard Gavin’s voice calling for her and was surprised at how distant and faint it was; the sea had already taken her hopelessly far away from the ship.

“What in the world are you doing, Chloe?” said the beautiful but angry voice of a redheaded woman breaking the surface near them “Just drown him already!”

“What’s all this fuss about” Another just as equally beautiful woman asked, wet blue hair cascading down her shoulders, and the next second yet another appeared behind her, wrapping her arms lovingly and lazily around the shoulders of the bluehaired one, Tina wondered if she was actually dead and in heaven, it felt suspiciously cold and painful, but other than that, being surrounded by beautiful women was very much her idea of otherworldly bliss, nevermind the fish tails

“I’m starving!” the newcomer said “why is our dinner still breathing?”

“That’s just what I was asking, Chloe” the redhead said reproachfully

“North, look at her,” Chloe said, “she’s not  a man” she still held on to Tina with a grasp that hurt but Tina appreciated, it was only because of that she wasn’t being thrown around by the waves like a rag doll

“Don’t be ridiculous, men keep women away from the sea, at least living ones” North said, swimming closer to Tina, taking her face and turning it this way and that, not in any way gently. North whistled “Would you look at that, you really aren’t a man”

“Of course I’m not” Tina said, sounding much less firm than she did in her head; that with her teeth chattering because of the cold and the coughing because she kept breathing water in

“Did they hurt you?” Chloe said with concern “Did they throw you off on purpose?”

“That’s what happened to me and Kara” the third mermaid said with sympathy “We were pretending to be men to be at sea, and they found us out, hurt us, pushed us overboard, we drowned though”

“Is that what happened to me? Did I drown?” Tina asked incoherently, because she was honestly losing it a little

Chloe laughed “Don’t be silly! I got you, didn’t I!”

“Do you want to go back to the ship?” The bluehaired woman asked comfortingly

Tina nodded “Yes of course, my friends will be worried about me”

North Scoffed “We aren’t taking her back right now; it’s dangerous to be in the surface with this much ice and the storm. Chloe, you take her down to the caves.” She ordered “Echo, Ripple and I will see if we can actually get some dinner tonight”

“I hope so!” Echo said, “I was so excited when she fell, fish is getting boring you know”

“My friends are on that ship” Tina said, she’d heard the word ‘dinner’ quite clearly this time  

“Men are no friends of ours” North said savagely and disappeared with the other two

Tina moved as if she were going to try to swim after them, get to the ship to make sure they didn’t hurt any of her friends but Chloe hold on to her

“Let’s hope none of your friends fall overboard” Chloe said, “You should take a very deep breath now”

Tina obeyed the best she could, and Chloe pulled her back into the sea with incredible speed. Tina closed her eyes to protect them, she was running painfully out of air when she felt herself breaking the surface again, she spluttered and coughed and took big gasps of air before she could see around her.

She was inside a pond in a big cave, her coughing echoed in it, and moonlight beams broke in from somewhere above, while the sea wind made strange, moaning, sorrowful sounds going through what Tina supposed were small tunnels all around her, none big enough for a person she guessed, but big enough to give her air to breath. The moonlight told her they were far away from the storm.

“You’ll be safe here” Chloe said “You can get dry, change your clothes, we have a ton of those!” Chloe added excitedly

Tina got herself on the rock, when her eyes adjusted to the dim light she saw Chloe was absolutely right, there were piles of clothes, men clothes, seamen clothes, all crunchy with unwashed, dried up sea salt. Tina changed hurriedly, piling up coat upon coat to warm herself, trying not to think who they had belonged to, and how they had ended up here. There were some trinkets in the pockets as well, some pocket watches, one or two spyglasses, a flasks, she tried her luck with that last one, gingerly at first, and then in one or two big gulps to help her body warm up.  

Once Tina felt like she wasn’t one minute away from dying, she turned to look at the mermaid creature, half expecting her to be gone, like a fever dream, but she was still there, sitting on the rock, humming to herself and splashing her fish tail in the water. Tina was struck again by how breathtakingly beautiful she was, the mermaid turned her head and Tina was caught staring.

“Are you warm now?” Chloe asked “If I remember right, humans are much more delicate when it comes to that”

“I’m fine, thank you” Tina said blushing, coming closer to her, slowly, cautiously, the mermaid laughed at this

“You aren’t afraid of me, are you?!”

“I– I don’t know” Tina said honestly “I’d never thought I’d see anything like you, I mean I had in story books, but never thought– You are very beautiful” Tina spluttered  

“Thank you very much” Chloe said prettily, just as if she were a lady in a tearoom, “I think you are very lovely yourself, how come you are a sailor? Are men coming to their senses at last?” Chloe asked

Tina smiled ruefully “I’m afraid not, it’s just like your friend said, I was pretending to be a man and then was found out”

“Did they hurt you?” Chloe asked again

“Not at all, they were willing to give me a chance, and then I fell overboard”

“Don’t worry” Chloe said “I’ll give you back as soon as the storm passes”

“How about you?” Tina said, not even knowing what to ask

“I don’t really remember” Chloe said tilting her head pensively “I think… I think… someone shoot me in the head, right here” she said pressing one of her pretty fingers softly to the center of Tina’s forehead

“That’s awful” Tina said, her eyes wide

“Isn’t it” Chloe agreed “I remember it like an almost forgotten dream, I don’t remember why, I remember… being sad, feeling…. betrayed?” she said with a faint frown on her pretty face “but then I woke up, and I was this, and I was with my sisters and nothing was ugly or painful anymore,”

Tina felt her face grow hot with anger, feeling furious at whomever had hurt Chloe in the past. This girl that was so petite, lovely and sweet, but knowing the world maybe she had been hurt precisely because of that.

“Oh! That’s an ugly, angry expression, it doesn’t suit you” Chloe said, fluttering her fingers over Tina’s face. “What happened to me was a very, very long time ago,” Chloe continued “I may not look it but I’m about the oldest of them” Chloe said proudly “I think only Amanda is older than me, but she’s really ancient, very wise. The newer they are the more clearly they remember, that’s why North is so angry all the time”

“I’m sorry– I wish I had been there to rescue you, just like you rescued me” Tina said lamely, feeling sick

“Thank you” Chloe said, leaning her head against Tina’s shoulder “You are the first ever to say something like that to me”

Chloe asked her to tell her stories about the things she’d seen and Tina complied, she didn’t know when she had fallen asleep, but when she woke up she was still in the cave, lying near the water, with Chloe cuddled up to her, only the very end of her fish tail still touching the water. Tina looked at her sleeping face, all cream and roses, Chloe opened her eyes then, smiled, and Tina leaned down to give her a light kiss. Chloe pulled her closer.

“I wish I could stay” Tina said once they broke apart. She felt almost as breathless as she had in the sea, but in a much more delicious and lovely way.

“Then my efforts saving you would be completely wasted” Chloe said, splashing water with her tail “And I will not have that, no m’am! A female sailor is too valuable for me to selfishly keep all to myself, no matter how much I’d like to”

Tina smiled, cupping Chloe’s face with her hand, when Echo broke the surface of the pond

“Oops!” She said playfully “Am I interrupting?”

“Certainly, you are!” Chloe said in the same playful tone splashing water to her

“Sorry, it was that or risking North’s wrath” Echo said “She says we can take you to your ship now, the storm is over” she disappeared under the water as suddenly as she had arrived

Tina didn’t want to say goodbye to Chloe, but she also knew she couldn’t stay. She got into the cold water gasping, Chloe threw her arms around her neck

“You know what the best part of being a sailor is?” Chloe asked with a lovely smile

“What?” Tina said bumping her nose against hers

“I’ll tell you later” Chloe replied playfully “Ready?”

Tina nodded taking her deep breath

Chloe swam slower, letting Tina look around the depths of the now calm sea, they took a few breaks for Tina to breath, but only a few. The sea may be calmer but it was just as cold, soon enough there was the ship right above them; Chloe cupped Tina’s face with both her hands and gave her the sweetest kiss, salt and bubbles, before letting Tina float to the surface as she herself sank deeper into the water.

“Hey!” Tina called out breathlessly once she was in the surface “Hey!!”

“By old Nick and all his ungodly demons,” Kayes shouted “It’s Chen!”

“Someone fetch Reed and Lieutenant Anderson!!” Chris was shouting as he and Kayes threw her a rope

She climbed it easily, and before she knew it she was being crushed in Gavin’s bear hug

“Fuck you, Chen” Gavin said

“Where were you? Did you hold on to the ship?” Chris asked with awed curiosity

“Impossible, I would have fucking seen her” Gavin rebuked him, they had had to restrain him for him not to jump into the water  

“A lady doesn’t kiss at tell, Miller” She said with a wide smile, as Anderson put a coat over her shoulders

“Let’s warm you up, Chen” Anderson said leading her away from all the other awed seamen

“You have to tell me” Gavin said “I saw some shit that night you won’t believe, I thought I was fucking losing it!”

“Mermaids?” Tina whispered to him and chuckled at the look on his face.

“Your clothes are looking very particular, son” Old Collins said, he’d kept on calling her son even after her secret had been revealed “Looks like something my grandfather used to wear”

Nobody on the Chicken Feed ever dared question Tina’s right to belong on board again, she had swam her way back from the very jaws of the unruly, freezing waves, you didn’t mess around with someone so in cahoots with the strangeness of the sea.

 “What’s the best thing about being a sailor? –”

Tina asked Chloe, many, many, many years later. After Tina had been the Master of Captain Reed’s Ship for decades, after her hair had become the color of sea foam instead of its original coal; when her routine disappearances from the ship were starting to become the stuff of legends, never confirmed but much believed  – “In the middle of the sea, puff! She wouldn’t be anywhere” They’d say for as long as anyone who met her lived “by my word Master Chen was a sea witch!”–

“ – You never told me”

“Why, silly!” Her lovely mermaid wife laughed “They marry the sea!”      

[brittaden]

Damn Donna Reed Revisited

Rated M.

"I should go."

Her words came out in a whisper; barely audible to her over the sound of blood rushing to her ears. They were so close. And she could've sworn that just a moment ago he was leaning in. And there was generally only one reason someone would lean in when they were already so close. Her gaze dropped to his lips, which were beginning to curl into a smile. She should go. She really needed to go.

His response surprised her, sending her back to the ground after she made the decision to get up and leave.

"Stay."

"What?"

He faltered when he spoke again and judging by the look in his eyes, she suspected he surprised himself too. "Uhm…I mean, there's still paint samples on the wall."

"I guess."

"We haven't chosen one."

Her back was pressed back against the counter. She could feel the handles of the coffee cups digging into her back. He was finally off his hand and knees and sat cross-legged in front of her. He looked almost as nervous as she felt. She brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat.

"We were choosing one tonight?" She asked, trying to hide the way her voice wanted to tremble. This was Luke, after all. Why was she nervous?

Then again, this was Luke.

"This was your idea."

"That I practically brow-beat you into."

"I remember a song."

She smiled. "Well you can be a very stubborn person."

"Look who's talking."

He smiled at her again and she really hoped for another distraction. For Taylor and his crew to come back and create a diversion so she could leave. Because, damn, that smile was intoxicating. She was suddenly almost glad that he didn't smile as often as most people because it would've been hard to resist.

Almost.

If she were being honest with herself, it's not that she wanted to leave or that Luke wouldn't let her leave if she insisted again, it's just that this was becoming too much. She knew that if she were to stay, if she weren't to fight his insistence that she should stay, that they would be treading a very fine line. A line that had been approached before but never crossed.

He was the next one to speak.

"Want another beer?"

"Sure."

She placed her hand in his and accepted his offer to help her up off the ground. She smiled shyly at the feel of her hand enclosed by his and he noticed this, giving her hand a little squeeze before letting go. She expected him to walk to the kitchen and grab the beers, since that's where he grabbed them the first time, but he walked away from the kitchen and towards the curtain that she knew led up to his living space.

He explained himself. "I don't have any more down here, just brought a few down earlier. They're upstairs."

"Oh," Lorelai was a teensy bit surprised but she walked towards him. "Okay."

He noticed her brief moment of hesitation. "I can go get them and bring them down here, if you want."

She shook her head. "No, it's okay. We can go up."

He pulled back the curtain, waiting for her to go first. And there was that line again. The one approached and never crossed. She didn't know Luke's intentions, if he was thinking about this as much as her, but she knew that he wouldn't expect anything just because she was in his apartment. This wasn't a cheesy rom-com. But that look earlier. And the leaning in. And the way he was watching her now. In her mind, she wasn't so sure that she could keep them from fully crossing that line and delving into what lay on the other side. She wasn't so sure that she wanted to keep them from crossing that line. And that was what truly scared her.

She ducked behind the curtain and started up the staircase that led up to his apartment. On the journey up, she realized that she had never even seen his place but that he had been in her house several times. It was a weird thought. He was right behind her all the way, reaching around her to open the door before allowing her to enter.

She heard her own breath hitch and thought about how ridiculous it was that she had that reaction just from him accidentally brushing his arm against her side when he opened the door for her. She hurried into his apartment before he could see the exact reaction he had caused from just the slightest of touches. She was definitely over-thinking all of this.

Lorelai took the time, after he headed towards the small kitchen space, to examine his apartment. It was small but it was originally an office space - that much she knew. And it was somehow exactly what she had thought his place would be. Neat but not completely spotless. Decorated but without a feminine touch, except for the curtains. They were a little frilly and certainly not anything she could ever imagine Luke willingly buying. The idea that Luke may have let another woman decorate this apartment before lit a spark of jealousy that she tried hard to ignore. A spark that she made been made aware of before a handful of times and had tried to extinguish an equal handful of times.

He was only gone for a couple of minutes before he reappeared by her side, offering out a beer.

She accepted and took a generous sip thinking it would help with everything that was going through her mind.

"Want to sit?" Luke asked, making a vague gesture towards the couch.

"Uh yeah," Lorelai stammered out. "Sitting's good. I like sitting."

He guided her towards the couch, daring to place his hand on the small of her back when she passed by him. He noticed she stopped briefly when did that and he wondered if he did something wrong but she didn't shirk away from his touch, so as he moved with her, he kept his hand on her back.

Naturally his hand slipped away when they moved to sit on the couch. A single couch cushion remained between them. He met her eyes and she took another generous sip of her beer before turning her eyes away from him.

Lorelai fidgeted with the label on her beer bottle, slowly peeling the label off as she tried and failed to think of something to talk about. Usually she kept up a pretty good banter with just about anyone - it was a skill that not many had. But now, alone with Luke in his apartment, she couldn't think of anything to say. Her mind was blank.

But he had something to say. And without a trace of nervousness, she noted. Maybe she was the only one nervous. The only one who had different scenarios racing through her mind on the multitude of ways this could go if they crossed the line. The thought that he may not be thinking about all of this like she is only served to heap onto the pile of nerves within her.

"I was thinking we could just stick to similar colors I have now, I could get the paint sometime this week," Luke said.

Lorelai nodded her head. "Good."

He watched her carefully, wondering why she was so quiet. "I was thinking we could paint Friday night, I can close earlier, should give us plenty of time, at least for a touch-up. Or maybe Saturday night."

"I can't on Friday," Lorelai finally spoke more than one word. "I have dinner with my parents on Friday. I could easily get out of it, I suppose. Call it an early night. I'm always looking for an excuse to do that. Or to not go at all. So yeah, Friday is good for me. Actually, Friday sounds perfect. I love Friday."

When she realized that she was rambling she, once again, turned away from Luke and turned up her bottle of beer and hoped that he couldn't see the way she felt her cheeks burning from embarrassment or nervousness or whatever the hell she was now feeling with him. She should probably leave but she stayed rooted to the couch.

She nearly choked when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Lorelai used her wrist to wipe beer from the corner of her mouth as the turned back to look at him. His hand was still on her shoulder and she welcomed the feeling. But she was caught off-guard by the look in his eyes. So warm, and kind, and full of concern. And besides her mind running through a million scenarios of how this could go in a minute, she was fine. There was a slight hiccup with her drink and her rambling from earlier but, now sitting here with his hand on her shoulder, she was okay. He just looked so concerned over her. And then there was another look, one that she had seen only once before in him and refused to acknowledge. And even avoided the diner for a few days after that look. The same look that Sookie insisted had always been there and that he held only for her.

It was dizzying, to say the least.

Maybe it was the slight dizzying nature of the moment, the way he was looking at her, the way he had looked at her earlier when they were ducked behind the counter, the way they had toed this line a few times before, or the way that his lips just looked incredibly kissable at the moment, whatever it was had her closing the now small space in between them and pressing her lips to his.

It was impulsive and she could tell that she had shocked him with her actions but just as she was going to apologize for the misstep, he kissed her back. Relief flooded through her as his lips moved against hers and she was right, his lips were very kissable. She parted for just a moment before kissing him again, this time running her tongue along the seam of his lips and coaxing him to open his mouth. She deepened the kiss, her tongue tangling with his, as he took the moment to pull her across the couch and closer to him.

Lorelai moved with him as he pulled her to him and held her close. Her hands found their way to his face while his hands held her around her waist and started to toy with the hem of her shirt. The feeling of his fingers skimming along her heated skin combined with the incredible softness of his lips against hers, had her moaning into his mouth.

They only parted when it became evident that they needed to breathe. As she caught her breath, she rested her forehead against his and she realized that she was completely in his lap and definitely straddling him.

The initial shock of the whole situation had her reeling. Lorelai slid off of his lap, an excuse as to why she needed to leave already tumbling out of her mouth, and made her way to his apartment door in record time. But she stopped, with her hand on the door handle, because she heard him call her name.

"Lorelai."

She took a deep breath and turned to face him, still processing everything that had just happened on his couch. "I should go, Luke."

She wasn't even sure why she was still telling him that because if she was honest with herself, leaving was the last thing on her mind. Her mind was back on the couch, with his lips on hers, with him underneath her, and with him touching her and beginning to trail his kisses away from her lips and to all the other places she now longed to feel him. The last part hadn't happened in their little make-out session but now she was starting to realize that she wanted that feeling.

Luke stepped towards her, closer, and reached out to touch the side of her face. He caressed her and she reveled in the soft touches. "Stay."

This time she knew his words weren't coming as a surprise to either of them. Instead, she saw this as a welcome encouragement. Just the word she was hoping for him to say, for him to want her to stay as much as she wanted to stay. Him to want this as much as she was starting to realize that she wanted this. She knew this was a far cry from what she felt just minutes ago but that was before. Her mind was still running wild with possibilities but they had already crossed the line and she couldn't see them going back.

They matched each other's movements this time, leaning in as the other one did so, and meeting in the middle. Her hand went to his chest and curled in the flannel he wore, using it as leverage to steady herself as he began to back her against the door. His lips were unyielding this time, a plea almost to match his words, asking her to stay. She was eager to keep up with him, giving him back just as much as he was giving her, answering his plea with her own – that she wanted a little more.

This time when she moaned against his mouth, she moaned his name. Hearing his name fall from her lips spurred him on. He had her pinned against the apartment door with his hips and allowed his hands to freely roam her body. His moves were confident and so assured as he began to explore her body. He fanned his fingers against her flat belly, brushing his hand against her skin before beginning the journey up towards her chest. His fingertips danced alone her rib cage and skimmed just underneath her bra, earning a small gasp from her and breaking their kiss.

Lorelai took advantage of the moment and pulled her shirt up and over her head, dropping down onto the floor below him. She smiled shyly as she watched his eyes roam her body and became acutely aware that the cotton bra she wore was definitely not one that usually saw a moment like this. At least not until well into a relationship. It was old and she was positive that it had a rip in the band but it was comfortable and it wasn't like she expected this to happen tonight.

"Sorry for the lack of fancy underwear," she said, breaking the silence. "I usually reserve that for the actual painting process."

Luke smiled at her. "You're beautiful."

She countered him quickly. "Easy to say when there's a half-naked woman in front of you."

"I mean it Lorelai," he replied, sincerity laced his words. "You're beautiful."

A blush crept onto her cheeks at his words. She took his hand in hers and led him away from their spot by the door, back into his apartment, and towards his bed. Easing him down onto the bed, she placed her legs on either side of his and sat down in his lap. Her arms looped around his shoulders as she held onto him while his hands were planted on her hips, steadying her on his lap.

His thumbs caressed her bare skin, running back and forth. "Are you sure about this?"

Her smile was bright as she assuaged his worries, "This is an awfully weird position to be in to be not sure." She leaned in, closing the distance between them and kissing him briefly before whispering in his ear. "Touch me, Luke."

A shiver ran through her as his hands began to explore her body. First, dipping into the curve above her hips, then lightly stroking over the swell of her breast. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, allowing to fall away from her body and allowing him to explore her body further. She shuddered as his lips landed on her neck and began a very teasing journey down her neck and across her collarbone. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin there before his tongue soothed the spot. As he began to trail wet kisses down her chest, she arched into his touch.

She removed his baseball cap and curled her fingers into his hair while he peppered kisses all across her breasts. He drew circles around her hard nipple with his tongue waiting until he heard her gasp before wrapping his lips around the taut peak and pulling it gently into his mouth.

Lorelai gasped softly, tightening her grip in his hair and holding him in place. Her head titled back as he repeated the process with her other breast, this time swirling his tongue around her nipple as he drew it into his mouth. Her hips started to slowly grind against him as he continued working her with his lips. She started to smile when she heard him groan in response to the rocking of her hips against him. His groan sent sparks rushing through her, arousing her even more than she thought was possible.

She pulled him back up to her, covering his mouth with hers and kissing him eagerly. A kiss full of need and arousal. Her hands made quick work of removing his flannel and the shirt that he wore underneath before she dipped her head to his chest and began to kiss every inch of his bare skin. Her teeth scraped gently against him, causing him to moan her name this time. While she continued kissing and sucking a path across her chest, she could feel him growing hard against her and she rocked her hips faster against him.

In one smooth move, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted from his lap and laid her back across his bed. Her hair fanned out across her pillow and she watched him, waiting for his next move. His lips latched back onto her skin, following a similar pattern of teasing and nipping but bringing his kisses lower until he reached the waistband of her jeans.

She couldn't help the laugh that burst forth as he undid the button on her jeans and slid them down her legs only to come face-to-face with her cartoon underwear. She definitely didn't intend on this happening tonight.

He looked up to see her laughing and smiling, covering part of her face with her hand. "Hello Kitty."

She met his eyes after a few seconds. "I have fancier underwear, I swear. It's not all Hello Kitty or day of the week."

He smiled at that. "I believe you."

"Good, and next time I'll be sure to break out all the fancy garments," she said, easily promising a next time for them before she even realized the words slipped out of her mouth.

"Next time," he agreed, catching her on her promise.

She smiled at him tenderly as he moved above her, and kissed him softly. As they kissed, she ran her hands down his chest and over the belt on his jeans. She unbuckled the belt and swiftly undid the button on his jeans before pushing them down his legs. Slipping her hand into his boxers, she found him hard for her. She wrapped her hand around his cock and began to stroke him slowly.

He groaned her name, "Lorelai."

Hearing him groan her name had her pushing at his boxers until he was completely exposed to her. She sped up her strokes, running her thumb over the head of his cock, before taking him fully in her hand again. She moaned against his mouth as he began to pump into her hand. Between feeling him pump against her and hearing how she made him moan, she could feel herself growing even wetter. She released him and pushed her panties down her legs, kicking them to the side, before taking him in her hand again.

Luke grabbed her leg and hooked it around his waist as she guided him to her center. They kept their eyes locked on one another as he pushed forward and entered her. She gasped softly at his tenderness and used the leg wrapped around his waist to pull him closer.

He resisted her pull and instead slowly entered her inch-by-inch. Before he was fully sheathed inside her, he pulled almost completely out. He pushed in again, groaning as her warmth enveloped him tightly.

Lorelai moaned as she took him in deep, "Oh, Luke."

Luke grasped her leg, holding it wrapped against his waist as he picked up the pace. He started to pump into her faster, burying himself deep within her with every stroke. He dropped his head down to her chest and wrapped his lips around her hard nipple. He pushed into her hard and deep while pulling her nipple deep into his mouth.

"Yes, right there!" Lorelai moaned loudly, holding him to her chest.

She was whimpering and panting as pleasure coursed through her body at the feel of his mouth and the way his hard cock filled her up. She couldn't believe that she already felt so close to the edge when they had just started. Soft moans and gasps fell from her mouth as his grip on her tightened and his thrusts grew harder.

"So good Luke," Lorelai panted, wrapping her arms around him and pulling his head up to hers. She briefly kissed him letting her lips close over his before she moaned again and broke the kiss. "Ohh, yes!"

"Lorelai," he moaned, continuing to pump into her and bury himself completely within her.

She was so wet and warm and enveloped so tightly with every deep stroke, a perfect vice around his cock. He could feel himself getting close, building up to his peak. With the way she was moaning for him, he guessed that she was close too. He slid his hand between them and ran his fingers over her hard clit.

"Fuck," Lorelai moaned, tossing her head back and closing her eyes as his fingers continued to rub against the hardened nub. She arched into his touch, grinding against his cock and his hand. "Don't stop Luke. Harder!"

Luke did as asked and began to pump into her as hard and as deep as he could. His hand was still between them and rubbing circles around her clit when she felt her orgasm beginning to course through her body. She moaned his name out loud as it felt like every nerve ending had been set on fire.

"Luke!"

Luke continued to pump into her, her warmth gripping him tighter than before as she rode out her orgasm. The way she squeezed him had him tipping over the edge not long after her. She moaned as she felt him release inside of her and held him against her with the leg still wrapped around her waist. They stayed that way for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other's embrace.

Not wanting to crush her, he moved from above her and tried to fit in beside her on his small bed. She slid over, giving him some room, and curled up beside him which ended up with her mostly resting on top of him. As her mind reeled with everything that had just happened and what that now meant for them, she could feel his arms wrap around her and hold her close. She smiled to herself before titling her head and being met with a gentle kiss.

"You're going to need a bigger bed," she whispered as they parted.

He chuckled and his confusion was evident on his face. "What?"

"Unless you're the love 'em and leave 'em type, you're going to need a bigger bed," Lorelai explained, curling up even closer to him. "I mean this is nice but a single bed screams bachelor."

"This was just nice?" Luke teased.

"A bigger bed, Luke."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and agreed with her, "A bigger bed."

She laid her head against his chest as his hands rubbed softly against her back. This time, she really, really needed to go. To get back home. But for now, this was nice and she was going to stay.

[choicesaddictionwriting]

When Damien Met His Perfect Match: Part One (Damien x MC)

Ever wondered how Damien met his perfect match? Come as we go back four years to the case that brought Damien to the person that made him laugh, kept him from drinking alone and invited him to places. The person who would become the constant good thing in his life. The person that would always be there for him. His perfect match.

(a/n: IDK how good this is. I tried to keep it as close to what is mentioned in the story but I might have missed a few details and changed it. So may not be consistent. But hope you enjoy it. This a mini-series sort of thing so there will be more. Oh and this is a bit long. Got carried away) 

PART TWO HERE

When Damien Met His Perfect Match: Part One (Damien x Emmy) 

“Nadia!” Emmy shouted urgently as she practically stormed up the final set of stairs and to the open door of her cousin Nadia’s apartment.

“Emmy!” Nadia exclaimed sobbed.

Emmy walked straight threw to the living room, walking past the police officer that was standing by the doorway and the other that was standing awkwardly by Nadia. Not even giving them a sideways glance, all she could focus on was Nadia, who was sobbing profusely on her couch, her legs tucked up so she could press them close to her chest, her face buried into her knees. Emmy could feel her heart clench, she hated seeing Nadia like this. She didn’t deserve this.

“Hey hey,” Emmy greeted immediately sitting down besides her and pulling her into a hug.

Nadia gripped onto Emmy tightly, continuing to cry into her shoulder. Emmy hadn’t noticed how violently she was shaking until then.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” Emmy comforted, stroking her hair, only glancing up briefly at the officers that were watching them, “Oh Nadia…”

“Em..emm…mmmm…myyy,” Nadia cried uncontrollably, her voice breaking.

Emmy pulled away slightly so she was facing her. She held onto the sides of her arms. Nadia’s brown eyes were glossy with tears, few which escaped and rolled down her cheeks. She continued to shake, her breathing was heavy and erratic.

“What happened?” Emmy asked, pulling her gaze from Nadia to the two silent policemen watching.

“The next-door neighbour heard screaming and called us. We found Miss Park on couch, visibly upset. It doesn’t look like a break-in and nothing was taken…again.” The police officer closet by them stepped in after a few seconds of silence.

“What did he do this time?” Emmy demanded in a stern whisper her eyes going to the second police officer by the door, the one who she knew.

Officer Davidson stepped forward taking a deep breath. Emmy knew his name and him all too well, how could she not. This was the third time he’d been here after a break-in. She couldn’t even count the number of other encounters they’d had. He was one the first responders at the first break in and he personally taken over the case. Unofficially of course as there was never enough evidence to turn it over to the local Special Victims unit. His face was riddled with genuine worry as he watched over Nadia who had once again began sobbing into Emmy’s shoulder. Clinging onto her as if she was a toddler.

“He moved stuff around. Damaged some property,” He answered, his eyes not meeting Emmy’s and remained firmly at his shoes.

“Did he leave a note?” Emmy questioned.

“No, not this time. I figure that he thought that was message enough,” He elaborated gesturing to other side of the room.

Emmy followed his hand and looked over at the other side of Nadia’s apartment. Nadia had been working on three paintings recently for an up coming gala. They had once been sitting proudly on three easels, unfinished but still masterpieces. Know they laid strewn on the floor, punctured with black paint thrown on top haphazardly.

Emmy breathed sharply and gave her cousin a squeeze.

“I would like to point out that we don’t know who…” The first officer began. “That’s bullshit and we both know it,” Emmy interrupted, standing up and walking over to both of them, “This is the third time you’ve been here in a month for a ‘break-in’ with nothing being stolen. I don’t know how many times we’ve called you about him following or standing across the street watching her. How can you stand there and say we don’t know who it is. We all know exactly who it is but you don’t want to do anything about it!”

“Miss Park please understand that we can’t do anything without evidence,” Officer Davidson attempted to explain for the umpteenth time, “There are no classic signs of a break-in. There is no forensic evidence. Every time we get calls he’s always gone before he arrives. The phone calls all get traced back to burner phones. There is no evidence to suggest Luke Taylor is behind this besides yours and Nadia’s witness statements,”

“Is that what you're going when she ends up dead?” Emmy hissed, her voice low so Nadia couldn’t hear.

“It won’t…” Officer Davidson reassured quickly.

“That you couldn’t do anything because there was no evidence? We all know it’s Taylor. Who else can it be?”

“It won’t get that far,” The second officer added.

“How do you know? He keeps evolving each time because he knows that you aren’t going to do anything,” Emmy countered.

“He had an alibi,” He offered, dismissively.

“How can he have an alibi? Neither of us know exactly when the break-in occurred. Was it as soon as she left for work at 8:00am this morning or was it an hour ago just before came back at 10:00pm. Please enlighten me officers,” Emmy argued expertly, folding her arms across her chest as she narrowed her eyes at them.

“You need to understand our position,” He began yet again.

“I already do. Weak,” Emmy interrupted, unable to control her frustration at this point.

“It will be his word against hers. He could claim she’s doing this for attention,” Davidson elaborated.

“Does that look like she trying to get attention?” Emmy interjected sharply, gesturing to Nadia behind her who had shifted to the foetal position, she was quiet, heartbreakingly so, “Is it also for attention when she calls me in the middle night because she’s too scared to sleep? Is she also seeing a therapist for attention? Answer me!”

“I’m sorry but…” The officer tried.

“We’re done here,” Emmy stated, cutting him off…yet again.

“Miss Park…” He started.

“You just told me that there isn’t anything you can do. So I don’t see why you’re still here,” Emmy dismissed, gesturing towards the door.

“Miss Park we are trying…”

“I bet you are and so are we,” Emmy stated, her voice intimidatingly calm that it made the officers uncomfortable.

“What do you mean?” He inquired.

“You said you need evidence then we’re going to get evidence,” Emmy persisted, her eyes alight with determination.

“How are…” Davidson interrogated as Emmy had started moving them both back towards the door.

“Let me show you both out,” She said, ignoring him, “Have a good night,”

“Take care Miss Park, both of you,” The second officer said, walking out the door and down the stairwell, assuming that his partner would follow.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Emmy,” Davidson whispered in a concerned but friendly toned as they both lingered in the doorway, “I know you want to protect Nadia but it isn’t worth putting yourself in danger,”

“We have differing opinions on what is worthwhile,” Emmy sighed, as she glanced back at Nadia.

“I’m being serious Emmy,” Davidson warned, “Call me if you…either of you need anything,”

“I will,” Emmy nodded.

“I really am sorry that I can’t do more,” He apologized.

“I know I was being hard on you guys. I know I can’t expect you to watch her or him twenty-four seven. But I just feel so…” Emmy reasoned.

“I feel exactly the same way. We will stop him,” He tried to comfort.

“But what has to happen before we do?” Emmy commented nervously before shutting the door.

Emmy took a moment before turning around to face Nadia. She was scared, hell she was terrified. She didn’t know what Luke Taylor was capable of. All she did know was that right now they only thing in between him and Nadia was her. So she knew she couldn’t be scared at least not openly. She had to keep Nadia safe because he only way he was going to get to her was over her dead body.

“I’m going to pack you a bag,” Emmy stated in the strongest tone she could muster as she turned round and walked back over to Nadia.

“Why?” Nadia sniffled, the initial shock of the feeling of someone invading the only place you should feel safe still present but somewhat subsiding.

“You’re staying with me from now on until all this over,” Emmy insisted, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“No, Emmy I can’t. He’ll just come there. He’ll follow me and then it will hurt you too,” Nadia stuttered, the simple suggestion setting her off again.

Luke Taylor had left her broken and half the woman she was before.

“I don’t care. From now on if he wants to get to you he has to go through me first,” Emmy proclaimed in an attempt to comfort Nadia but her heart was heavy at the sight of this person who merely resembled the Nadia she knew,

“You can’t do that,” Nadia insisted.

“Yes, I can and I am,” Emmy nodded, straightening up.

“Emmy…” Nadia began.

“Nadia, I’m not going to let anything else happen to you.”  

There were no more protests after that. Emmy packed a bag and Nadia grabbed her essentials. They were out of that apartment in fifteen minutes and back at Emmy’s in another. Nadia slowly started acting like herself again once there as she got ready for bed at Emmy’s insistence. She was quickly settled and sleeping in Emmy’s room. Emmy, on the other hand, didn’t dare sleep. Instead, she sat beside her, staying up all night, making sure that she was there just in case she needed her.

The next morning Emmy went to work absolutely exhausted. In fact, she was mid-yawn as she stepped off the elevator where she was immediately met with her assistant, Landon.

“You look awful,” He commented as they began walking down the hall towards her office.

“Tell me about it. I was up all night,” Emmy sighed, her hands flying to hair in attempt to make the quick ponytail she had thrown her hair into somewhat presentable.

“Oh really,” He smirked, his eyebrows quirking up.

“With Nadia,” Emmy clarified, taking a sip of the coffee he had handed her, “It happened again last night,”

“Did you call the police?” He inquired, walking through the door Emmy held open for him as they continued to walk.

“Yeah and once again nothing could prove it was him so they couldn’t do anything,” Emmy sighed, dejected.

“Is she is okay?” Landon asked.

“She’s resting at my place. I asked my doorman to keep an eye out,” Emmy added, opening the door to her office.

“So what are you going to do?” Landon asked as they both stopped in the doorframe

“I don’t know but until I do might as well distract myself with work,” Emmy “Speaking of which,”

“You have a partners meeting at 10:00, then back to back client meeting until five with one of them being with the CEO of O'Brien Limited about the merger with Fortworth. Oh and the Carter contract is due tonight so I left 1 till 2 empty so you can finish it up,” Landon recalled, glancing down at his phone.

“That contract hit your mailbox two hours ago,” Emmy grinned, leaning against the doorframe and for the time that morning, grinning.

He tilted his head at her in confusion as he rested on the wall beside her.

“I couldn’t sleep so I worked,” Emmy shrugged, taking a sip.

“This is why…” Landon begin.

Emmy didn’t hear the rest of what Landon said. As he spoke Emmy had cast her eyes over the busting office. It was early but an international law firm was always working as if was the middle of the day. Time differences. Though the thing that actually distracted her was the man that left one of her colleagues offices.

Emmy was analytical by nature and detail-oriented to a fault. It was necessary for this job and she wouldn’t have gotten to the position she was, youngest ever partner at the firm if she wasn’t amazing at it. She was also good at reading people, but this man was different.

She was sure he wasn’t a client or a lawyer. She got that just by how he was dressed. Sure, he had a white shirt and tie but no suit jacket. Instead, he wore a brown leather jacket in its place. Every other man here wore suits or some sort of variation as did the clients bar the few eccentric ones, though his outfit was too tame for them. He was tall and dark and yes handsome, she thought to herself. He had stubble as well also a rarity around here. She was far enough that she couldn’t make out the details but she liked what she saw from the clear glances she got of him. She also noted how carried himself differently to her colleague and almost everyone else around here. She was intrigued, to say the least.

He was indeed different.

But she couldn’t figure out why. She pondered the thought before scolding herself for watching too many episodes of criminal minds and thinking that she could analyze everyone just by looking at them. But the thought still lingered, she wanted, she needed to know more about the man who by all means blended in but yet stood out to her. Shaking the thought quickly she brought herself back just in time to catch the end of what Landon was saying.

“Hmm,” She let out, taking the last sip of coffee as her eyes followed the man and her college, James, to the elevator.

She watched as James, her colleague, shook his hand and walked into the elevator. She watched as he turned around inside said elevator and pressed the button. And as he looked up the panel their eyes met briefly. Emmy became flustered instantaneously over being caught, averting her eyes in an attempt to recover. But she wasn’t quick enough. He had noticed. She knew he had. As she caught the small smirk that formed on his lips just as the elevator doors shut.

“Why are you blushing?” Landon suddenly asked.

“I’m not,” Emmy insisted quickly, lifting her empty mug to take a sip, only remembering said fact when it reached her lips.

“Would you like more coffee?” Landon inquired, amused.

“Yes,” Emmy stated before turning around and shutting her office door.

A few hours later after meeting Emmy found she had a moment to herself. Only for a moment though as soon as she let herself recline instead of punch over her pile of seeming endless contracts, a head popped around her door.

“Hey Emmy,” James greeted cheerily, strolling into her office and taking a seat opposite her.

“Please come in James. I’m not busy at all.” Emmy commented sarcastically, not looking up as she looked over her current contract.

“You’ve always got time for me,” James winked suggestively, leaning closer across the desk.

“James,” Emmy warned sternly but in a playful manner, not looking at him.

Emmy was fully aware of James interest in her. In fact, she spent almost half their interactions together deflecting his propositions. It was light-hearted enough and fun in nature that she didn’t always mind the banter. Though she could tell that he was gearing up to ask her out on an actual date which she wasn’t interested in at all. So while it was still somewhat playful she didn’t mind a little teasing, though she never pretended to be interested.

“Emmy,” He breathed.

“You’re going to tone it down by at least five,” Emmy chuckled, glancing at her computer screen before jotting something down.

“You never let me have any fun,” He huffed.

“Have fun on your own time,” Emmy suggested.

“Well, now that you mention your own time,” He attempted to Segway, rather awkwardly in Emmy’s opinion.

“Was there something you needed?”

“Mcdougall contract,” He sighed, giving up for the day, much to Emmy’s relief.

They chatted for a few minutes before he got up to leave though he made sure that he was doing so reluctantly. As he did, her mind slipped back to the man from this morning as it had been all day.

“Hey, who was that you were with this morning?” Emmy asked suddenly causing James to turn back around as he was already leaving her office.

“This morning. This morning,” He hummed as he cast his mind back.

“The guy in a brown jacket,” She offered tactfully.

“Oh, some PI I hired,” He shrugged.

“One of our investigators?” Emmy questioned.

“Oh no, a local one,” He clarified, “My client wanted an outsider so it couldn’t be traced back to the firm and then back to him,”

“And why’s that?” She teased.

“That would be a breach of attorney-client privilege,” He joked, “Though between you and me. Let’s just say his business partner is not going to be having a good morning,”

“Is he any good?” She asked, telling herself she was just making conversation and not just curious for any other reason.

“Better than any of our guys,” James chuckled dryly, “Why do you ask? In the market for a PI?”

Emmy paused. That was it. That was how she could get evidence. “Yes,”

“Why’s that?” James inquired, an eyebrow quirking up in curiosity.

“It’s personal,” Emmy said quickly, almost too quickly.

“Oh okay, well whatever it is. Damien is your man, a couple of other clients recommended him after he dealt with some other more discreet matters for them,” James nodded, pulling back at her words.

“Damien huh?” Emmy commented, leaning back. He did look like a Damien she thought to herself, whatever that meant.

“Yeah, Damien Naz something…hold on I think I still have his card that you could have,” James continued before stopping, searching his pockets and producing a small business card, “Damien Nazario,”

“Thanks,” Emmy said, extending her hand so he could give to her.

“I’ll give it to you on one condition,” James suggested, resting his palm on her desk and leaning over. “If he does a good job you have to go out with me,”

“Do I now?” Emmy smirked.

“Well, if you want the card,” He sighed teasingly.

“Ignoring the fact google exists,” Emmy countered, “You must have a lot of faith in this guy to bet your chances on him,”

“If you knew half the stuff he’s supposedly dealt with. You would too. I’m sure he can help you too,” James explained.

“All right then,” Emmy agreed, taking the card.

“I’m going to get our reservations booked,” He winked before heading out.

Emmy rolled her eyes before focusing back on the card. She went to type the number into her phone but hesitated and called another one instead.

“Officer Quinn Davidson,” The voice responded as soon as the phone was answered.

“Hey, it’s Emmy,” Emmy responded quickly, “I was wondering if you could do my favor,”

Emmy quickly relayed what happened and her idea. Much to her relief he also thought it was a good idea.

“Who did he suggest?” Davidson asked.

“Damien Nazario,” Emmy relayed.

“Nazario huh? Haven’t heard that name around here in a while,” He commented somewhat fondly.

“You know him?” Emmy asked surprised.

“He used to be a Detective here before moving onto Interpol,” Davidson informed. “He works at Interpol?” Emmy questioned.

“No, not anymore. I didn’t realize he had become a PI,”

“Does that mean he’s a good one?” Emmy joked, “So good that you guys didn’t even notice,”

“Well, if he’s half the PI that he was the detective I knew then he’s the perfect man for the job,” Davidson reassured, “But I’ll send you his file anyway, just so you have some extra information,”

“Thank you,”

“No problem, take care,” He returned before ending the call.

Around ten minutes later, Mr. Nazario file landed in her inbox. She quickly reviewed it before getting Landon to call the number and set up a meeting for that night as she was about to be pulled into one of her own.

That night Emmy was standing at the doorway of the pub. The Archer and Hopps she scrutinized. From what she could tell it looked nice enough from the outside, though it wasn’t like the bars that Nadia loved to drag her too. Inside surprised her, however. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the room was lined with leather booths. Definitely different from the modern electric bars close to Nadia’s heart. It was much more…broody. She walked in, her eyes scanning for anyone that resembled the man from that morning. Finally, her eyes settled at the bar where a lone man in a brown jacket sat nursing a beer, talking with the Bartender. Who noticed Emmy as she approached and excused himself as she reached him.

“Damien Nazario?” Emmy asked, gently tapping the shoulder of the man wearing the brown jacket before taking a step back.

“Sure is, whose asking?” The man responded, turning around in his seat at the touch as he pulled a drink from his lips.

As soon as he did their eyes met and locked.

“Emmy Park,” Emmy said stretching out her arm for a handshake, her eyes unwavering from his, “I need your help,”

[indescribablechoices]

this night is sparkling (TRR)

Part of the @choices-september-challenge​

Day Nineteen: Camping

Pairing: None really, based in my TRR next gen group from my Enchanting series.

Prompt: 39 (Spin the bottle kiss) and Lyra X Bartie, thank you @iknewyoudcome

Word Count: 1890

Listening Suggestion: Enchanted - Taylor Swift

Fic Tag List: @brightpinkpeppercorn​ @kennaxval​ @iknewyoudcome​ @

Synopsis: For Lyra’s 16th birthday, she and some of her closest friends have a camp out in the palace grounds. A bottle of whiskey and a game of spin the bottle lead to some revelations. Warning for underage drinking.

Enchanting Masterlist

“Look what I found,” Bartie announced, joining the circle around the campfire as he dramatically waved the full whiskey bottle that was in his grasp. He tossed it casually to Lyra who examined the label.

“Where did you get this?” she asked.

“I might have borrowed it from Uncle Drake’s cellar,” he told her with a sly grin, “It’s a sixteen year old bottle so I figured it was perfect.”

She returned the smile, “Well this should at least liven up this party if nothing else.”

“Exactly,” he nodded, “Nothing quite says ‘party’ like a group of drunk teenagers.”

Natalia leaned over and took the bottle from Lyra’s hands, “This calls for a little drinking game. Spin the Bottle, anyone?” A cheer went up from the group and they all huddled into a new circle with the bottle placed in the middle. “The rules are simple,” she said, “You spin the bottle, whoever it lands on is offered a choice of ‘truth’ or ‘dare’. You must complete the dare or tell the truth, and if you refuse or are suspected of lying, you have to drink. Ready?”

Drake looked uncomfortably at his sister, “Is this really a good idea?”

“It’s a great idea,” she assured him, “It’s a party. It’s just us and our friends. Just try and relax and have some fun.”

“As the resident birthday girl, and future queen of our great nation, Lyra you may start,” Natalia said.

Lyra leaned forward, grasping the bottle and spinning it. It landed on Alodie, and she chose truth. Lyra thought for a moment then grinned, “Who are you crushing on at the moment?”

Alodie’s eyes went wide, “What?”

“You heard me,” Lyra’s grin grew bigger, “There has to be someone.”

“I… uh…” Alodie stammered over her words, then met Lyra’s eyes, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and after removing the top, drank a mouthful, daintily wiping her lipstick afterwards.

Lyra laughed, “So that’s how it’s going to be, hm?”

“Yes, your Highness,” Alodie gave an overdramatically polite nod before spinning the bottle herself. It landed on Natalia who Alodie dared to remove every knife from where she had it hidden on her person.

Natalia had stood and with a confusing series of movements, dropped five blades of varying size on the ground at her feet.

Gareth’s eyebrows shot up, “Where were you hiding those?”

“You don’t want to know, Beaumont,” she smirked, sitting back down.

The game went on, revealing the embarrassing way Bertrand had given Gareth the ‘birds and bees’ talk, the exact colour of Lily’s underwear and a daring text sent from Natalia’s phone to her father concerning the stolen whiskey, mixed with plenty of steadily more risqué questions that were met with lots of drinking, ensuring that they were all at least some semblance of drunk.

Drake, who had been landed on the most, and had refused every request thrown at him was swaying where he sat, whiskey coursing through his system as he giggled at everything happening around him.

Natalia spun the bottle, a shit eating grin crossing her face when it landed on Lyra, “Truth or dare, your Highness?”

“Hit me with your best shot, Nevrakis; dare!” Lyra said, the whiskey making her feel bold, having only been answering truths so far.

Natalia cracked her knuckles, “Alright then. I think it’s time we finally break the tension.”

“What tension?” Lyra rolled her eyes.

“I dare you to kiss Bartie.”

Lyra stared at her, unable to keep the flush out of her cheeks, “What?”

“Come on, we’ve all been thinking it,” Natalia said, “There is some serious tension between the two of you. Don’t pretend that you’ve never thought about it. I mean look at him, he’s gorgeous.”

Lyra glanced at Bartie who was looking at her, his grey eyes meeting her blue. She felt a surge in her chest. He was attractive, and she had noticed so many of the other girls at court taking notice of him, but she had never considered him in that way. He was her best friend, he had been for as long as she could remember.

“It’s now or never, Princess,” Natalia reminded her.

Lyra shot her a look then looked back to Bartie, “Can you…?”

He nodded, “Of course.” They shuffled closer together from where they sat on opposite sides of the circle, meeting in the middle. As their friends began to cheer them on, he whispered quietly to her, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” she whispered back, “But it’s just one kiss. It won’t make things awkward, right?”

“Not at all. Nothing changes, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

They leaned their heads in and their lips met in a gentle kiss, no more than it had done when they had played together as children, but it began to deepen slowly as they drew closer together, his hand coming to cup at her cheek. They lost themselves in those long few moments, the sound of her heart beating hard drowning out the sounds of anything else around them, the soft feel of his mouth on hers, her fingertips starting to tease at the dark curls of his hair.

When they finally parted for breath, their eyes opened to look at each other, noses still brushing together.

“Sunshine, that was…” he began to say but a cheering howl from Natalia cut him off.

“Get a room you two!” she laughed, and the pair of them awkwardly parted, sitting back in their original seats. Lyra’s heart was still fluttering in her chest as she ran a hand through her hair to try and bring herself back to the moment, spinning the bottle again.

The game continued for a few more rounds before they realised that the bottle was empty.

“I think we should start heading to bed,” Lyra said, glancing at her brother who was continuing to sway whilst his eyes drooped shut.

They headed back to the campfire, one by one ducking into their tents to change into the pyjamas.

Alodie had Drake’s tall frame supported against her as he tried to climb into his tent but she rolled her eyes and pulled him back out, “Come on. I think you need a real bed.”

“But, but the party!” he insisted.

“You’ll thank me in the morning,” she told him, and after informing Lyra that she was going to take him back to the palace, she began leading him back out of the garden.

He babbled happily as they walked, laughing about the events of the evening, about how happy Lyra was and how happy that made him. They made it back inside the palace without much incident, passing by a few servants who giggled to themselves at the sight of the usually quiet and composed prince drunk and merry. She shushed him as they made it to the royal suites, shoving him quickly to his room as not to disturb the king and queen and let them know that their son was intoxicated.

Once inside, he flopped back on the bed as she removed his shoes and jacket. He kept on mumbling happily to himself as she rolled her eyes. She lifted his legs up onto the mattress and pulled the blanket over him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, looking up at her through askew glasses.

She slid them off his face and put them on his bedside table, offering him a smile, “It’s no trouble. Now, get some sleep.”

She went to walk away but he reached out and took her hand, “Will… Will you stay?”

She looked back at him, “You want me to stay?”

He nodded into his pillow, “I only went to the party to spend time with you.”

“Oh,” her voice was soft as she went back to his bedside, sitting on the edge of the mattress, still holding his hand, “Just until you fall asleep, okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbled, his eyes already drooping, “You’re my favourite person in the whole world, Allie. And I…”

“Yeah Drake?” she asked, looking expectantly at him, but he was already fast asleep. She shook her head to herself with a sigh. She ran a hand over his mess of light brown hair then flicked the lamp off, leaving his room to let him sleep in peace.

Back in the garden, Lyra was led staring up at the fabric ceiling of her tent, her mind whirling, but she knew that it wasn’t from the alcohol. She and Bartie had kissed. And not just a friendly peck, but they had kissed. And despite the agreement that they had both made, something had changed. Whether that would mean anything, she didn’t know, but for now it was all she could think about.

She sat up when she heard a shuffle of movement outside. Thinking it Alodie, she clambered out of her tent to ask how her brother was, but she stopped dead when she saw Bartie across the fire, dressed in nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms.

They stared at each other for a moment before they began to laugh softly.

“I thought you were Alodie,” she told him.

“Unfortunately, no,” he shrugged, glancing back at his tent, “Turns out Gareth is a fidget arse when he’s had a drink so I’m not getting any sleep tonight.”

“Well you can’t sleep out here,” she pointed out, “C’mon.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “C’mon, what?”

“I’ve got the biggest tent here,” she said, “We can share.”

“Sunshine, are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes, “We used to share the same bed when we were kids, I think we can share the same tent and be mature about it.”

She clambered back in, sliding into her sleeping bag. He followed behind her a few moments later, zipping the door up behind himself, having grabbed a sweater from his tent. He led down on the opposite side of the tent, back pressed right up against the fabric wall.

She grabbed one of the spare blankets and pillows and tossed them to him to get comfortable.

“Thank you,” he whispered almost inaudibly.

They led in silence for a while, both staring up at the dark ceiling of the tent. After a few mintues, Lyra dared a look at him to see if he’d fallen asleep but her eyes met his. He’d been watching her; for how long, she wasn’t sure. She licked her dry lips nervously, but neither of them looked away.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked.

“Of course,” he nodded.

“That was my first kiss.”

He propped himself up on his elbow, “Shit, Sunshine, I wouldn’t have…”

“No, no,” she said quickly, reaching across to take hold of his hand, “What I mean is… thank you. It was perfect, awkward given the circumstances, but perfect. I’m glad it was you.”

“Oh,” a smile played on his lips as he squeezed her hand, “Happy to help.”

“Ass,” she stuck her tongue out at him with a teasing grin, meeting his eyes, “You really are my best friend, you know that, right?”

“I know. And you’re mine.”

“Good,” she said quietly, settling her head into her pillow, “We should get some sleep.”

“Agreed,” he gave a nod, settling into his own pillow, but still clutching her hand.

“Goodnight, Bartie.”

“Goodnight, Sunshine.”

[serenephenix]

Fruit Loops

Shiro never stood a chance

I’m not sure how I feel about posting this. Writing has been hard lately.

Have fun!

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Fruit Loops

[Fandom]:Voltron: Legendary Defender

[Rating]: Gen/ Gen

[Genre]: Friendship, Team as Family

[AU]: Shenanigan(g)s series, college AU

[Word count]:  3.600

[Warning]: fluff, paramount amounts of fluff

[Status]: completed

Original AU by taylor-tut

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Shiro had no idea when exactly he had noticed something was amiss. Not amiss in the sense where Keith had broken one of his ribs and done everything in his power to cover up the whole unpleasant ordeal consisting of blue and violet bruises; Nor when he had hidden a written test from their parents after failing it and hoping that holding a burial for it in their local park would make his 2nd grade homeroom teacher forget about it, only to be sorely disappointed.

No. Shiro knew when his younger brother was trying to hide mess-ups: there would be averted eyes, tell-tale red dusting on the tips of ears covered by black hair, and slumped shoulders.

What Shiro was seeing now though - and that had to be the most absurd thing of all - was that not just Keith but every other person in their apartment seemed to be in on the secret that had all of them in an incredibly good mood.

And it was driving him up a wall.

He was not sure when it started. There hadn’t been any signs. No skittishness, no nervousness. Nothing!

It left him puzzled and maybe even a little left out; spurred him all the more to get to the bottom of the mystery.

He kept his eyes open, his ears sharp but to his never-ending frustration his efforts yielded no results. For what the long years of having lived together were worth, Keith knew him inside out and each and every little one of his tricks and well disguised, innocent queries.

Also, Keith was no longer fourteen and as such Shiro felt it would be nothing short of rude and inappropriate to snoop around now that he was an adult. Also, that was generally Hunk’s field of expertise, and the very reason none of them left personal stuff lying around unguarded.

But still… he wanted in on the thing that had all of his friends almost glowing.

But on this morning, instead of brooding over his self-imposed riddle, he sat, coffee in hand, at the table of their rickety kitchen, tapping insistently at the rim of the cup with his finger, glaring at that greasy spot on the wall none of them could get rid of.

It was one of the few mornings where Hunk had to go off early for his biweekly lecture and where Shiro was left to his own devices to make himself breakfast, seeing as Keith and Lance had run off to their joint shift at the animal shelter.

The only other soul present was Pidge, and Shiro did not even dare entertain the idea of waking her up before eight – there was a reason she had not taken any of the morning classes.

He let out a yawn, sloshing the dark liquid around and watching a few bubbles gather at the center of the tiny whirlpool. It had been a long night and he realized that one cup would never be enough to wake him up until he would have to drag himself out and into his car.

The cupboard creaked a little as he blindly groped for the filter coffee, only to yelp when the package came toppling down on his head along with some cornflakes, both contents spilling on the floor and counter.

He just stood there, eyes clenched shut, taking deep, measured breaths through his nose. Morning was already proving to be the best part of the day it seemed.

“Brilliant. Just brilliant.”

He sighed, looking at the mess at his feet and turned to retrieve a broom when he noticed something he might have dismissed if he weren’t kneeling down to swipe the cornflakes into the dusting pan.

He frowned, inspecting the pellet that looked nothing like the multicolored and sugary loops that the box advertised.

He shrugged; deciding that it one of his friends had probably just used the box as a sort of stash. The trash’s lid windmilled as he tapped the pan against the rim to dislodge a bit of dirt, letting his eyes sweep over the floor one last time before deeming his duty to keep the kitchen spotless fulfilled.

He considered the bits of cornflakes still strewn across the counter. With a shrug, he reached for the mismatch of bowls in another cupboard, swept up a spoon out of their oversized mug slash open cutlery box, and quickly wiped the cornflakes off the counter, each clinking against the cheap ceramic.

Shaking the milk carton revealed there was barely any left, the content sloshing around in the pretty much empty container, and Shiro made a mental note to stop by the store and get some more after classes.

He didn’t even look as he shoveled the treat inside his mouth… and promptly spat it back out into his bowl.

His only saving grace was that Keith was not here to see or hear him. He had no idea what he looked like but his brother (and any of the others if he were being honest) would not let him live down his squawks and gagging while he tried to rinse this atrocity of a taste out of his mouth.

His hand found one of the rags they used for cleaning dishes, using it to dab off some excess water off his chin, before turning back to the offending bowl with wide eyes.

“What the…”

He felt his eyebrows almost disappear in his hairline as he inspected the unassuming, dark blobs soaking in milk, bringing it to his nose to sniff at the vile concoction.

Now that he’d taken the time to really examine it, he actually noticed the strong salty smell coming from the definitely not-cornflakes.

He frowned, getting the package and searching for clues but there was nothing. It wasn’t even remotely close to what the bright neon image advertised.

Decision made, he deposited the bowl inside the sink and made his way to Pidge’s room, hoping that even if she did not know what these things were, that she might be able to help him figure it out.

He knocked on her door, waiting until there came a muffled reply, gravely and heavy with sleep.

“Hey Pidge,” he began, getting into her room and watching out for potential tripping hazards, “I hoped that you could help me with…”

The words died in his mouth as a loud purr filled the entire room.

His eyes trailed up to its source and found a russet cat, perched on the bed on a swath of blankets which Shiro knew had to be Pidge.

He stared at the cat and the animal stared right back at him, until Shiro noticed the scar tissue running over the bridge of its nose and across both of its eyes that had grown shut.

Still, its other senses seemed to be sharp enough to know where Shiro stood and that all of his attention was on it.

The longer Shiro stared, the louder the purring seemed to get. Shiro, for his part, just stood frozen, his tired brain trying to process everything.

The cat, obviously bored by the lack of action, got up, stretched, its back arching, before sitting almost regally on its unsteady perch, before letting out a loud meow.

Pidge jerked upright, throwing the cat and blankets off, blinking at her surroundings. She smacked her lips, hand groping for her glasses.

Once she found them, she put them on.

Her squinted eyes fell onto Shiro and it seemed to take a few seconds for reality to catch-up with her sleep-fogged mind.

But when the cat came up to her chin and butted its head into hers, sudden realization dawning on her face, her eyes grew the size of literal saucers.

The chuckle she released was filled with paramount discomfort.

“Uhm, surprise?”

Shiro’s scowl, though aloof, did not stop the cat from nuzzling his legs, its purr strong.

“Spill.”

Shiro felt a sort of pride when the door to the apartment was opened and closed with such care and quiet that he almost did not catch it. It went to show that despite everything, despite Keith’s ongoing efforts to pretend he didn’t care about rules, he still did care about whether or not he had lied to his older brother.

“I know you’re there.”

There was a gasp, the jingle of keys being dropped and a curse that sounded too deep to be Keith’s.

Three heads poked into the room, wary expressions and sheepish smiles greeting him.

“Uh, hi, so how was your day?”

Shiro pretended to give Lance’s question some thought, his hand never stopping the motion it had been keeping up for half an hour now. Hunk, Keith and Lance stared at his lap with a muted sort of disbelief and wonderment.

“Pretty interesting if you ask me.”

Hunk gulped and Shiro’s grin became too obvious, so he instead focused his attention on the window, staring at the orange streak of the evening sky he could catch from this angle.

“There was this nice lady at the cafeteria again and I am pretty sure that I now have a monopoly on the entirety of the triple chocolate muffins.”

He did not even need to look at them, he could practically feel their nervous shuffling.

“Then I had to explain to one some kid in communication class that no, urban dictionary is not a viable source for writing a speech.”

“And finally,” he said, making a dramatic pause before scratching the cat’s chin, making his voice extra indulgent, “I learned that we have a new roomie no one bothered telling me about.”

His efforts were rewarded with a gentle mroow, his retreating hand being chased by a chocolate brown nose. Shiro gave in and resumed his petting, the cat settling back into his lap with a contended sigh and kneading paws.

His smirk had to be daunting despite his wholly unthreatening demeanor. It became obvious the moment he turned around and saw the boys exchange concerned glances.

“And how about you?”

Hunk gave a high-pitched, nervous laugh, while Keith and Lance seemed one second away from bailing.

The moment was broken by the sound of the toilet flushing. And sure enough, Pidge peaked through a small slit at them before coming out, heaving a sigh that made her shoulders drop several inches.

Shiro couldn’t get a look at the boys’ expressions once they’d turned to face her, but judging from Pidge’s raised eyebrow they had to be reproachful.

“No need to look at me like that.” She went around the hulking trio, all narrow-eyed and with pursed lips, as she plopped down beside Shiro and happily greeted the cat instantly changing resting place. “It’s not like I told him and honestly? If I get to be chewed out so do you guys. At least I warned you.”

Keith gave a groan so deep and pained it had to hurt his vocal chords.

“Please, just… let’s get this over with.”

He set in motion before the others, almost tripping up Lance and Hunk, and having to hold onto each other to avoid ending up in a graceless heap.

They stood before him like convicts awaiting their sentence. Shame that the cat had favored Pidge over him. What he wouldn’t give to play the evil mastermind stroking its regal feline.

Instead, he opted to put the jokes aside. He put his elbows on his knees, laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, looking them straight in the eye, giving Pidge the barest of glances as well.

“Seriously though, why didn’t you guys just tell me?”

Because, in the short time Shiro had been able to spare before having had to leave for college, all he had gotten out of a flustered and severely sleep deprived Pidge were the absolute basics: that the cat wasn’t an entirely new addition, that it had been living in Pidge’s room ever since it had been brought here almost three weeks ago, that ,yes, it was house-trained, that, no, she had no idea what breed it was, and that Keith was the instigator of this mess.

Anything else, Pidge steadfastly refused to divulge, saying that if anything, the others should have a chance to suffer with her, since they were in on the little scheme. Shiro could admit that the argument had been far too convincing, far too promising to brush off.

And so, he’d let her off the hook, having waited patiently the moment he came back through the door and counting on his friends’ complicity to spread the new development over a group chat Shiro figured he was not privy to for obvious reasons.

All of which had led to this very moment.

Lance’s lips almost disappeared as he sucked them in, while Hunk twiddled his thumbs. Keith for his part, stared at the tip of his socked feet. Never let it be said though, that Keith did not acknowledge when he messed up.

“Listen,” he began, sounding small and almost resigned, “I know how you feel about animals but they were going to put her down and I just couldn’t let that happen.”

His dark-violet eyes came up to meet Shiro’s grey ones, a silent plea for him to understand.

“Wowowoh, wait,” Shiro said, briefly shaking his head before giving Keith a questioning look, “I’m not judging and I do understand your need to protect every animal that you come across, “ all except Keith let out knowing sniggers, “but what do you mean by how I feel about animals?”

Keith’s lost expression and rapid blinking was rather amusing.

“I mean… you don’t like keeping animals?”

Keith sounded unsure, just as unsure as Shiro felt as to where he had gotten that idea from.

When he failed to add anything to his brother’s remark, the latter went on.

“It’s just, I kind of thought you didn’t like animals since you always said no when I brought it up.”

And suddenly it made sense; because Shiro remembered every single time his baby brother had come up to him, big eyes full of hope and longing. It had hurt to deny him but Shiro had had to do everything in his power to make ends meet. And in none of his juggling with numbers to pay the rent, to have enough money for food and financing his and Keith’s education, was there ever enough to sustain another mouth to feed.

“Keith,” he said, getting up and putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder, Keith peeking at him through his bangs, “I did not mean that I’d never want to have a pet because I actually do,” he added quickly at the raised eyebrow, “but we couldn’t afford it at the time.”

Shiro had tried his hardest to give Keith as much of a carefree childhood as possible but they were both aware that it had never stopped Keith from catching Shiro brooding over coupons and carefully cut-out adverts with products on offer at their local store, or when they stood in a clothes store and inevitably got Keith the winter jacket when Shiro’s easy jacket was almost falling apart at the seams.

It was all Shiro could do to keep up appearances, to ensure that the system could not sink its greedy fangs into what remained of their small family to tear them further apart.

And then Shiro entered college and he befriended Matt and things had suddenly looked so much brighter.

“But things have changed and I’m actually all for keeping our new friend. I just would have wished you’d told me sooner, since I’ll have to inform our landlord*. I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression or that you felt the need to keep this from me.”

Keith’s smile was nothing like the big-toothed smiles shared between Hunk and Lance, or Pidge’s downright impish grin, but it was there and full of the quiet happiness Shiro had come to love and appreciate over the years.

He turned back to the couch, crouching down so he could once again pet their red furred engine that was now to stay with them.

“Anyway, how did you get such a beauty?”

Keith opened his mouth but Lance was quick to jump in, almost falling over in his excitement.

“Well actually, Keith knew her since what? October?”

Wait…

“That long, huh?”

Keith caught onto the lilt in his voice, on the slight shift in his expression. The mortification dawning on his face was a masterpiece in the making.

Lance for his part, was oblivious to the kind of blackmail goldmine he had unwittingly provided Shiro with.

“Yeah, he also wouldn’t shut up about how much she liked him over everyone else.”

He glared at Keith with no heat, lips drawn into a pout. Keith though had all of his attention directed at Shiro.

Shiro felt his lips quiver. It started with a slight tremor before turning into an uncontrollable quake that had him biting his lips.

Everybody was looking at him in confusion but it was Keith mounting horrified embarrassment that sent him over the edge.

He burst into laughter. His whole frame shook and rocked, so much so that he toppled over and leaned onto the edge of their couch, howling still and clutching at his side with his free hand. The cat jumped off Pidge’s legs and zoomed out of the room like red lightning.

But none tried to chase after her, much too preoccupied with Shiro riding out his sudden fit

“You’re telling me that the cat you never shut up about, the cat you repeatedly told me was the greatest menace on Earth, is the one you bring back home with you? Oh my god that’s rich!”

He fell onto the cushions, laughing and laughing because honestly, this was how it had always been with Keith: the louder he complained, the more he’d actually come to care.

“So Red’s actually horrible?”

Shiro stilled, staring at Hunk who was throwing the opening through which said cat had disappeared a contemplative look.

Shiro’s grin grew and he was aware that he probably looked like the cat that got the canary if his friends’ wary glances were anything to go by.

He turned his attention to Keith and was more than elated to see him hide his face with a gloved hand, head dipped low as if the gesture might soften the blow to come.

“Isn’t it supposed to be Mario Mario?”

Keith seemed to literally deflate but remained utterly silent as Shiro dragged him.

“What?”

Shiro smiled wide at Lance, whose eyebrow had inched even further up his forehead.

He turned back to Keith and man did his cheeks hurt but this was far, far too good of an opportunity.

“I thought her name was Mario. You know, because you had to get her out from behind pipes?”

Keith’s skin, or whatever of it Shiro could glimpse, was flushing a deep crimson. It might even rival the glow of the cat’s chestnut fur quite nicely.

Pidge was trying hard to stifle herself but Shiro could see her eyes watering, shoulders shaking and quaking with the effort of sparing her friend the humiliation. Hunk and Lance knew no such restraint.

Hunk’s deep booming laughter chimed in with Lance’s high-pitched whinnying and Pidge all but snorted out a lung before she managed to bury he face in the ugly heart-shaped cushion.

Shiro felt rather than saw the weak kick to his shin, but it did nothing about calming him down.

“Mario Red! What a name,” Hunk wheezed out, while Lance hung off of him, still shaking and Shiro was a little worried if he’d just collapse if it weren’t for their friend supporting him.

Keith’s growl was exasperation in its purest form. Still, with no heat behind it, Keith clearly could not be that annoyed by their antics.

Slowly, they calmed down, somehow ending up on or at the foot of the couch, leaning onto each other, and Shiro had taken the opportunity to sling an arm around his baby brother so that he had him in a loose hug, Keith’s head resting on his shoulder.

Shiro listened to the chatter that had started up to his left, Hunk, Pidge and Lance discussing some thing or other, while he held onto Keith.

“Thanks.”

Shiro glanced down, expression inquisitive.

“For what exactly?”

The shrug jostled both of them a little and he had to keep a tight grip so that Keith would not end up on the floor with the way he was sprawled over the armrest.

“For not getting mad? For letting us keep Red? I’m not even sure,” he answered honestly before really looking at Shiro with an earnest expression, “but thank you.

He was tempted to ruffle Keith’s hair but let it be and instead just opted resting his cheek on top of his brother’s head, more to hide his smile more than anything else.

“Of course.”

“Oh yeah, Shiro,” the mischievous voice broke through their companionable silence, sending spikes of alarm through every muscle of his being “so how does kibble with milk taste?”

“Pidge!”

Too late. Keith already lay sprawled on the floor, laughing like there was no tomorrow, the others following soon after, and from the corner of his eye Shiro saw a red shadow slink into the kitchen.

Well, he thought, things were going to become even more interesting around here.

[roobierubyroobieruby]

I Remember It

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 5,520 (minus song lyrics)

Warnings: angst and heartbreak - no resolution to it (sorry)

Summary: In a short amount of time, Steve became one of your best friends. Over the course of your 11 month friendship, things changed so drastically that you could barely keep up - and you’re still suffering the Rogers Effect a year on...

(italics are all flashbacks, **flashback scene in a flashback)

A/N: This is based off of the Taylor Swift song “All Too Well”, so I wrote this for Steve because I wanted to do an angst-feels fic that essentially was all about heartbreak. This fic talks about events taking place over 11 months, then 3 months after those 11 months - so where I’ve written “1 month post...” means 1 months after the events of the 11 months. If that makes sense? And I designed it to jump around, it’s a rollercoaster! I used real experiences for this too so yeah, hopefully it breaks your heart a little <3 ily

You stepped through your apartment door, your heart heavy with sadness. You had been on your way home from SHIELD, mindlessly flicking through your social media when you saw a photo Wanda had uploaded two hours ago of the whole team. Your heart had sunken into your chest, your breathing ceased, as your eyes were drawn to look at his face. You tortured yourself doing this, stopping to stare at the photo instead of scrolling passed it like you should have.

It had been just over a year since you’d seen him, even longer since you had spoken, but the pain was as fierce as if no time at all had passed. Your eyes studied his features - his carefree smile, the way he stood behind Wanda with his hand on her shoulder, his other arm slung over Bucky’s, his hair was so perfectly swept to the side as he always liked it, and his eyes shone so brilliantly blue that it felt like you were staring into the sky after months of darkness, having forgotten what it looks like.

You bit down on your lip, your leg bouncing up and down, trying to ward off the tears as your throat closed up. You had held yourself together until the moment you’d stepped through your door, feeling the hot tears run down your face.

You shuffled through the lounge and hallway, taking solace in your bedroom while you changed into comfier clothes. Thankfully, this was one place he hadn’t invaded, hadn’t tainted, with his own personal poison to ensure you were haunted by him forever.

You heard the front door open and Nat’s voice sing out, realizing she was home earlier than expected as she moved through the apartment. You were perched on the floor of your room, your back resting against the cold, hard wall, and your knees pulled up close against you.

“(Y/N) are you ho- oh my god are you ok?!” She rushed over to you, crouching down to look you in the eyes.

I’m fine.

You wanted to say, the words stuck on your tongue.

I saw a picture of him and barely felt anything.

You wanted to scream, but it died in your throat.

I finally think I’m over it, over him.

You thought to yourself, the words sinking you further into the floor.

Instead, you let out a loud sob, unable to hold it in anymore, your chest cleaving in two. As soon as the floodgates opened, it all came out. Your mind raced through everything that ever happened between you - from start to finish, and every beautifully pure detail in between. Your body shook with the ferocity of your tears, Nat moving to sit next to you and pull you tightly into her in an attempt to provide some comfort.

(Nat’s POV)

She knew exactly what had happened, that you had seen him. She was sure it was that photo Wanda had uploaded, since there was nothing else that could cause you to break like this since you deleted him from all of your social media, and your life. She had been there every single day, from the moment he’d left you high and dry, to now. Even though you were still healing your broken heart, you had made so much progress.

You had lost weight at the beginning, your pallor looking thin and sickly, you stopped sleeping and eating, and that was when she insisted that you two move out from the tower. She even spoke to Agent Coulson and got you moved to another team - although they weren’t the Avengers, they all had their own abilities and worked missions the same way the Avengers did. They weren’t as high profile either, being dubbed “The Silent Knights”, so you got a break from the constant media frenzy that used to surround you.

It had worked in your favour that this team was specialized for covert, highly classified missions that relied on stealth, since you and Nat had both had the same...treatments. Where she was the Avenger’s super spy weapon, you went back to your roots with the Knights, enjoying the thrill of the hunt in the cover of darkness.

After a couple of weeks off, away from him and the tower, you had begun to gain some colour. You filled out your clothes a bit better and you begun venturing outside of your shared apartment, even if it was just down to the shop and back. You had even begun to laugh again, a sound that nearly brought tears to her eyes because she feared he had broken you to a point you wouldn’t be able to recover from entirely.

She had kept Bruce away from the apartment, not wanting to flaunt her relationship with him in front of you, but you had noticed how his absence had affected her and you’d given her the okay to have him over. You had explained that you were a big girl and that you didn’t want to be the one standing between her and her happiness, that just because your heart was broken, she didn’t have to suffer alongside you.

Besides, you had to start moving passed it all eventually, and Bruce was lovely, he knew the situation and wouldn’t dare bring up his name, so he was safe to you.

As she sat there, cradling you and soothing you, she wondered whether there was going to come a day where you would be able to be truly happy again, a day where the mere sight of him wouldn’t reduce you to anything. A day where you were finally indifferent, or at the least unaffected by him.

(Your POV)

You were captive into your head, your mind forcing you to relive those 11 months with him, and the 3 months after that in limbo felt like your own personal brand of torture. You held onto Nat, your fingers curling around her arms as you struggled to regain control, but it was no use. This was it. You had fallen again, your body draining of energy and falling apart at the seams, each memory another blow to your already fragile heart.

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold

But something ‘bout it felt like home somehow

And I left my scarf there at your sister’s house

And you’ve still got it in your drawer even now

(Four months in)

You collapsed through his door, laughing as he scrambled to pull you back into his arms.

“Steve no, please stop,” breathlessly squealing through his attack, “you know I hate being tickled!”

“I’m trying to warm you up and get your blood pumping! I’m helping you doll!”

He laughed, wrapping his body around yours and nuzzling into your neck. The sensation of his skin on yours jolted you away from him, turning to face him.

“I forgot my scarf! I knew I was colder on the way back here than when we went there! You thought I was crazy!” You punched him in the chest, knowing he would barely feel it, “well I will get it back for you then, I’m sure Wanda probably picked it up on the way out.” He moved in to kiss you, his lips warm and soft, his arms encircling your waist. It was slow, lingering, your fingers moving up around his neck to play with his hair. You heard a low moan when you did, his grip tightening before you broke apart.

“I think I’m pretty warmed up now Steve, you’ve done well.” You chewed on your lip, savouring the taste of him.

“Oh love, I have much better ways to do that...:” His eyes grew hungry, his hands wandering down your body as he pressed his lips against yours, moving you back through the room and kicking the door shut.

**

A week later, you were rifling through Steve’s drawers - wearing nothing but your gym shorts and sports bra - looking for your favourite shirt of his to steal, when your hands brushed over familiar fabric. You pulled your scarf out of his drawer, staring quizzically, wondering when he’d picked this up.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to give that back to you. I kept forgetting.”

He was standing in the doorway, fresh from his morning run, his hand nervously running through his hair.

“Or, maybe you keep it because you secretly want to wear my pretty red and blue floral scarf?” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, snickering at the image in your head. “The red and blue are your colours after all, Captain America.”

He strode up to you, his hand pulling the scarf - and you - to him, “I also wear white, Red Widow.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek while you feigned shock at him using your spy name, before sauntering off into the adjoined bathroom, allowing the door to remain ajar so you could see him strip his shirt off through the mirror.

“You know, between you stealing my shirts, and leaving your own stuff here, it’s as if we live together at this point.”

He stared at you through the mirror, a smirk playing on his lips as you shook your head at him.

“You know, maybe this is home somehow. Not the room, just wherever you are.” You moved through to the bathroom, poking your head through to see him in the shower.

He opened the shower door, “you know what I think?” A mischievous grin broke across his face as he launched himself out and wrapped his arms around your torso, lifting you and carrying you towards the shower.

“STEVE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You squealed in delight, your arms flailing to grab a hold of anything that might give you some leverage. He smoothly reoriented himself to pin your legs, edging towards the water.

“I need a shower, and I want you to help me.”

You relented, nipping at his lips, “aren’t you a big boy? Why do you need my help?”

“Maybe I just want some company.” His fingers brushed under the waistband of your pants, tickling your skin. “I’ll deal with these in a minute.”

He stepped into the warm steam, putting you down gently while his mouth worked its way over your neck, up to your jaw, before finally giving in and meeting your mouth. His hands roamed your body, grabbing your waist harder as he grew more frenzied in his actions.

You both had a really, really good shower that morning, feeling right at home.

Oh your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze

We’re singing in the car getting lost upstate

Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

And I can picture it after all these days

(2 months in)

You snuck a glance over at Steve, the sunlight gleaming onto his face - highlighting his soft, pouty lips, his long eyelashes framing his crystal blue eyes, and his golden hair creating a halo around his head. His brow slightly furrowed in concentration as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over his lips, driving one-handed in his usual fashion.

You heard the familiar chords of the electric guitar fill the speakers of the car as you leapt with joy in the passenger seat, causing Steve to yell in panic.

“What, are you ok?!”

You stared at him, eyes wide with joy, “it’s my song Steve!! Sing with me!”

He chuckled beside you, shaking his head as you turned the volume up, drowning out the world.

You swung your head wildly with the beat, pointing over to him, “I’m going out tonight, I’m feeling alright, gonna let it all hang out. Wanna make some noise, really raise my voice, yeah I wanna scream and shout.”

You winked at him, stomping your feet to the rhythm, “come on, sing with me!”

“The best thing about being a woman, is the prerogative to have a little fun, yeah!”

You belted out the chorus, looking over to see Steve staring at you in his usual sweet way as he held his hand up like he was holding a microphone - belting out the chorus alongside you.

“Oh oh oh, like totally crazy, forget I’m a lady, men’s shirts short skirts, oh oh oh oh really go wild yeah doin’ it in style,”

You squealed in delight, his moves exaggerated - rolling and shaking his shoulders, slightly moving his head from side to side - as if he were performing to a stadium instead of just a girl in a car, his eyes shining with glee.

“oh oh oh get in the action, feel the attraction, colour my hair, do what I dare, oh oh oh I wanna be free yeah, to feel the way I feel,”

With the final line, you both turned to stare at each other, holding your invisible microphones, deadpan expressions on your faces, “man, I feel like a woman!”

You threw yourself back into your seat, lost in a fit of laughter over the Captain breaking out into a Shania Twain song - ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman’ no less. You would remember this moment forever.

And I know it’s long gone

And that magic’s not here no more

And I might be okay

But I’m not fine at all

(9 months in)

“No please Nat, don’t go talk to him. If he wanted to see me, or even talk to me, he would.”

“(Y/N), he’s being an ass! He can’t treat you like this just because he feels like it. You’ve been there for him for months now, and what, just because he’s ‘busy’ he has no time for you anymore?”

“Look, I am more hurt by this than I ever thought I’d feel, even more so because I never thought he would be the one to hurt me. But he has, and I don’t know what I did to deserve it but whatever we had is gone.”

“You seem awfully okay to just let this go…”

“I’m not okay, I’m not even remotely okay or fine or managing at all. But I have to anyway, because if he’s too busy to even let me know he’s okay then I can take the hint.”

“You shouldn’t have to just take it. He’s the one that’s pulling away for no reason and you shouldn’t be expected to just accept that.”

“I have to. If he wants to talk, he knows where to find me.”

‘Cause there we are again on that little town street

You almost ran the red ‘cause you were looking over at me

Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well

(2 months in cont.)

Your laugh echoed through the car, almost drowned out by the wind whistling through and moving your hair in wild directions, your eyes taking in the small town shops and the way the light shone through the trees to cast an earthly glow on the entire place.

You felt him slip his hand underneath yours, his fingers intertwining, squeezing gently. You turned back to him, meeting his eyes, your lips parted slightly in surprise before melting into a smile at the sight of him smiling at you.

You bit your lip gently, feeling his thumb move over your skin, sending shivers across every nerve, butterflies erupting through every part of your stomach. You glanced down, your mind wanting to make sure this was real, before you were jolted in your seat as the car came to a halt.

He erupted into deep, raucous laughter when he realized that he’d narrowly avoided running a red light, a little old lady glaring at the two of you in your own personal bubble, oblivious to the outside world when you had each other.

Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red

You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin sized bed

And your mother’s telling stories about you on the tee ball team

You tell me ‘bout your past, thinking your future was me

(6 months in)

One night, you were sat on the barstool next to Steve, leaning forward into his side, looking through some old photos that he had found of himself, as well as photos of you when you were younger. He didn’t have many, seeing as it was the 40’s and after his parents died and he went to war, there wasn’t really anyone around to keep things.

He treasured what he had, regaling stories of times when he and Bucky would get into mischief, or when the two of them were so inseparable that he had tried out for the school baseball team just to be with Bucky.

You stared at his profile, taking in every feature - big and small - while he told you of the time that little seven-year-old Steve tried to jump from his twin bed across the room onto his dresser. He had missed and hit the floor with a thud so loud that his mother had raced in fearing he was unconscious. He had broken his glasses, thankful they were intended to be temporary anyway, and he had cut his lip open on his teeth, causing blood to run down his chin and stain his clothes. He’d never heard the end of it from Bucky.

Sliding your photo album forward, his eyes roaming over every single photo and page - studying your child self and commenting about how cute you were, how similar you looked to your mother, how much you had and hadn’t changed - you began telling your own childhood stories.

You rarely opened up to people, having the experience that they always left once they got what they wanted from you, but you slowly began to trust that maybe - just maybe - Steve might be the one who changes your mind, breaks through your walls, and will stick around to be part of your future. Whatever that was, however it happened, you didn’t care so long as he was in it.

And I know it’s long gone

And there was nothing else I could do

And I forget about you long enough

To forget why I needed to

(3 months post…)

As much as you hated to admit it, Nat was right. Being in a new apartment, away from the tower, was good for you. Eating became a regular habit, as did sleep, and you had even moved teams so you didn’t have to see or speak to Steve anymore.

You had deleted him from all of your social media the day you’d started seeing posts of him with Sharon Carter, not wanting to subject yourself to the torture of wondering what she had that you didn’t - why she was good enough for him. Why giving yourself over to him, giving whatever he wanted of you to him without a second thought, wasn’t enough.

Soon, you noticed you’d go a day without him entering your mind, then two, then three. Soon, you were giving him a passing thought at best - focused on your team, missions, and life. Even though you hadn’t gotten any answers, or apology, regardless of the times you’d reached out in hopes of getting one, you had begun to accept that there was nothing else you could do. This was his choice, to cut you out of his life as if you were a malignant tumour that was killing him, and you didn’t need someone like that in your life.

Every now and then, your mind would wander back to him and you’d think of the good times you had, enjoying the untainted memories before you remembered why you were in this position in the first place - why you needed to forget him at all. You deserved better. That was what mattered, and that was why you were determined to forget him, because he didn’t give you any sparing thought when he was cutting into your heart and ripping it to pieces with his silence. Why should you have to continue to suffer for someone else’s choice. You don’t. You deserved better.

You just had to try and remind yourself of that every time you remembered his face, and why you were no longer a part of each other’s lives. You deserved better.

‘Cause there we are again in the middle of the night

We’re dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light

Down the stairs, I was there, I remember it all too well, yeah

(7 months in)

You had wandered from your room, seeking out a hot cup of tea in the hopes it would calm your mind enough to sleep. You sat on the very same barstool as the night you had reminisced about your past with Steve, letting the memory relax your body, closing your eyes as the heat flooded through your cold limbs.

“Can’t sleep?”

His low voice, so familiar you didn’t need to look to know he was already sitting next to you, broke through your trip down memory lane.

“Nope, another night of exhaustion and an inability to make up for it. But hey, it’s only 1.30am, I still have time to get in a couple of hours if this tea does its job.”

You smiled weakly, sparing a glance at him while he moved to open the fridge - always on the hunt for food - taking the opportunity to gaze at his form: the way his sweat pants hung low on his hips, his shirt stretching across his shoulders, the way his soft hair was standing haphazardly on end, sleep making him look at least 50 years younger than his 95 years old and almost as if he were vulnerable.

He turned around to face you, sighing with a small smile on his beautiful, soft lips, “ok, come here.”

You quietly put your mug on the counter, shifting off of the barstool and moved into Steve’s open arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck, him hugging your waist, nuzzling into your neck as he began to slowly rock. He pulled away ever so slightly to rest his forehead against yours, moving his arms to rest on your hips, licking his lips.

You both were turning in a small circle, illuminated by the fridge light, the only sound being your slow breaths and your heartbeat thundering in your chest. You heard him begin to hum, one of his favourite slow tunes from the 40’s, letting the sound wash over you and relax your mind. Your eyes grew heavy, laying your head against his chest as he kissed your forehead, his steady heartbeat syncing with yours.

“You know I love you right? You’re my best friend, and I know I said that I don’t think you can love a person unless they’re family or a lover, but you were right. You can love someone more than other people, you love them because you treasure them above all else, without wanting it to be romantic. So, I love you (Y/N).”

You felt a small smile tug at the corner of your mouth. “I know I said that, but I don’t expect you to tell me you love me just because I believe in that kind of love. You don’t and that’s fine, because I know you care about me whether you say it or not.” You let out a long breath, “but in any case, I love you too Steve. You’re my best friend, and I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you in my life.”

You felt him breathe a sigh of relief, his fingers moving under your shirt to trace small circles in the sensitive skin above your hips.

“I’ll always be here. I have nightmares about you leaving me, you know. I wake up panicked, scared you’re really gone.” His hands tightened around you, his voice low and laced with anxiety. “I actually had one tonight, which is why I was up. I’m glad I have you right here with me right now.”

“You know you could always call me or come and find me if you’re having nightmares. I’m always here for you.”

The cold from your body was gone, replaced with his warmth as you nestled yourself further into him, soon begging sleep to let you have just five more minutes.

Maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

‘Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well

(1 month post…)

He’d gone radio silent again, only one week after you’d gone to the movies together - his attempt at repairing the rift in your friendship. Relationship? Whatever this was. The pain buried itself deep inside your heart, constricting your chest, as your finger hovered over his name in your phone.

Should you bother texting him anymore? All you got were limited responses, if any at all, but you just couldn’t forget about everything that had happened between you - dropping it as if it never existed in the first place.

It’s as if he got scared of the idea of being close again and high-tailed it out of there, as if you had the plague. Not only had he hurt you the first time he did this, but he’d tried since to hope you’d forgive him, to earn back your trust. You had given him both, even though fear and experience told you to run for the hills and not look back, knowing that your friendship was worth fighting for.

The fact that history repeated itself only told you that whatever you were - whatever you had - he’d torn up, thrown away, burned. What you thought was a masterpiece, was just scrap paper to him. You began to look back over your friendship, trying to pinpoint moments where you might have gotten confused and misunderstood his friendly intentions, or maybe times when you’d asked too much of him, but the only things that came to mind were the times when he’d sought you out - which was every single time - to hold you, kiss you, touch you, and tell you he loved you. There was no mistaking that, right?

Hey, you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I’m a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

‘Cause I remember it all, all, all too well

(10 months in)

“Nat, he texted me. I mean, he didn’t come and see me or call me, but he messaged me, asking to go to the movies. He said he misses me. He said he loves me.”

You were staring at your phone in your hand, looking at the text message as if it were physically hurting you, like a hot stone burning into your palm.

“Well what do you want to do?”

You put the phone face down on her bed, throwing yourself into her pillows. “I just want to ignore him, hope that he suffers even a smidgen of what he put me through last month, but I can’t say no. God, why can’t I say no!”

You felt silent tears sliding down your face, thinking back over the way he’d so casually just dropped you from his life without so much as a message or anything. You ceased to exist before you snapped and confronted him. It’d been hours of arguing, yelling, him insisting that he was only doing it out of concern that you were getting feelings for him and he was trying to spare you.

**

“Steve, I’ve been upfront and honest with you this entire time, and I’ve never made a move on you or done anything unless you initiated it. You hold my hand because you want to, you hug me because you want to, you told me you loved me because you wanted to. I never initiated any of that because I knew you wanted to keep your distance, that you’re not an overly affectionate and emotional person, which is fine by me, just don’t go putting this on me when it was your decision to cut me out.”

“It’s as if you want me to be two different people! You say you want Steve Rogers but then get mad when I’m not Captain America. I can’t be both at the same time, you can’t just pick and choose the parts of me you like.”

“Since when have I ever asked you to choose? I chose you - all of you - from the get go. Not once have I done anything to have you question that, or at least you’ve never brought it up to me. Everything was fine until you decided it wasn’t, Steve, so I can’t play this game. You hurt me, you don’t get to decide you didn’t, and you don’t see how that’s your problem.”

You had stalked away, hiding away behind your locked door, buried under your blanket as you crumpled into a sobbing mess.

**

The unanswered text message taunted you, before you finally relented and said yes. The whole time, he’d held your hand, grabbed your waist, and made sure that in one way or another, he was always in contact with your skin. When you’d gotten uncomfortable in the theatre seats, he’d shifted the arm rest up, pulling your feet onto his lap as he lazily drew small circles over your thighs.

He’d wrapped his arm around your shoulder when you’d gotten cold, laying small kisses on your cheek and temple, his attention warming the chill you had been trying to maintain in defence. He’d told you he loved you as he dropped you at your door, insistent on walking you even though you lived in the same building, and as soon as he’d left, your phone lit up with a message from him saying goodnight and reminding you he loved you once more.

You began to question what his love meant, fear creeping into your skin as you debated whether his declarations of love were starting to mean something more to him.

Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it

I’d like to be my old self again but I’m still trying to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own

Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

(2 months post…)

You were packing up the last of your things, glancing around at the stark, bare room in shock. This had been your home for so long and now it was time to go. Of course, you couldn’t stay anymore when it meant being around him, but you didn’t want to leave your home and your family just because of him. Nat had been insistent that you two needed to move out together, calling your apartment the ‘Widow’s Web’ in an attempt to get your more excited, but you were grieving. The loss of your friend, and the loss of your home.

You were putting the last of your clothes in a box when you pulled out a dark blue plaid shirt, instantly recognizing it as one of his. Your chest caved, remembering how many nights you spent wrapped up in it, the smell of him relaxing you into a deep sleep devoid of your own nightmares. Now, you had to find your own ways to cope, now with your normal nightmares and the ones he’d induced.

You folded it up, placing it on top of the empty dresser as Wanda poked her head in the open door.

“Hiya (Y/N)! Wow, it’s really happening. It’s so strange to think we won’t be neighbours in the tower anymore.”

She put some things down on the stripped bed, hugging you hard, fighting back her own tears.

“I’m so sorry you felt you had to leave to find yourself again lovely.”

You pulled away, nodding for fear that you’d begin crying if you opened your mouth. You noticed the pile of things she’d placed on the bed, your throat closing up.

“Oh, yeah. Steve gave me these to give to you. I wouldn’t of given in if it had been stupid stuff, but I noticed it was all yours and I thought you’d want it back before you left.”

“Thank you Wanda.” You slowly grabbed everything off the bed, handling it as if it were poison, and dropped it into the last box, not caring that it was meant for clothes. You wanted it all out of your sight unless you wanted to spend another hour crying your eyes out.

Wanda pulled you into another hug, your body paralyzed as your mind was lost to thoughts of Steve, and what had happened over the last year - almost a year. You hadn’t even gotten through a year of true friendship before he’d disappeared from your life. No rhyme or reason except being too busy. Even that excuse had faded into nothingness. Silence was what your friendship with him was now. Just devoid of everything except the deafening silence.

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week

‘Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me

You can’t get rid of it ‘cause you remember it all too well, yeah

You had noticed in the months since Steve froze you out, the only thing you hadn’t found was your scarf. You thought maybe he had kept it, wanting a piece of you with him as if he still cared. But anyone who cared about anyone wouldn’t do what he did, so he’d have no sentimental reason to keep the scarf.

You guessed you’d misplaced it sometime, putting the absurd idea that Steve might care for you out of your head.

‘Cause there we are again when I loved you so

Back before you lost the one real thing you’ve ever known

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

It had been six months since you’d left the avengers tower, and your dreams were still haunted by his beautiful face, the way he’d throw his head back whenever he laughed, and the way he’d hold you close - always wanting to be touching your skin, hugging you with his hands on your waist, kissing you on your cheeks or temple. You thought back to the countless times he’d said he loved you, sometimes for no reason at all.

You knew you would’ve gone to war for him if he’d asked. Your love for him would’ve defied anything, because you trusted in him that he would be true to his words and actions, and that he treasured you just as much as you treasured him.

He had always said that he rarely felt true attachments, scared for them to leave or something to happen to them, and yet he was unable to imagine being without you. He’d told you over and over that you were one of the most important people in his life, one of the few he loved and one of the only people he ever told he loved. He felt what you had together was rare, and that he wanted to have you in his life forever.

You realized you two had different definitions of what forever meant.

Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all

Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

You had made it through an entire year without Steve in your life, experiencing moments of joy and triumph that were only yours, not poisoned by his presence, You had been on your way home when you saw the photo. It brought back memories you had tried to bury, not wanting to relive his words and touches, his glances and kisses, not wanting to remember the way he said he loved you, and forever. It was rare he said, but evidently not so rare that it was priceless.

You remembered it all too well.

TAG LIST: @bewithme-forevermore @palaiasaurus64 @papi-chulo-bucky @kimistry27

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BLOG TOUR - A Highland Ruby

  DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Pump Up Your Book. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

  About the Book:

  Title: A HIGHLAND RUBY Author: Brenda B. Taylor Publisher: Bethabara Press Pages: 207 Genre: Historical Romance

She must choose between a life of adventure with the man she loves or a settled, secure life with her betrothed. Flora Vass forced Gavin Munro out of her heart and mind until he returned to Scotland after an adventurous five years in the New World. Gavin leaves no doubt he returned to make the bonnie Flora his own and intends to fight for her. Flora’s betrothed, Iain MacKay, and Gavin’s brother, Chief Andrew Munro, have other plans. Andrew needs her to marry the MacKay and bring peace between the two clans. Iain MacKay desires an heir. War with England looms on the horizon, forcing Flora to make crucial decisions.

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  Book Excerpt:

He watched her through the grey mist, walking along the shore of Cromarty Firth. The hood of her arisaid covered her bonnie russet locks, but he imagined them bouncing with each step she took. She came every morn, sometimes with the wee curly-headed laddie in tow, but now, she walked alone. His heart beat a fast rhythm like a lad watching his first love. How foolish to be hiding behind a rock when he could speak to her, hold her hand, and look into her dark eyes.

Gavin gathered courage and stood to his full height when Flora walked past the rock where he hid. “Flora,” he said in a quiet voice. She continued to walk, not hearing him above the moaning wind.

Quickly, he took a place beside her, then grabbed her arm. She screamed as she turned to face him. Her eyes widened with fear, she tried to jerk her arm free, then beat his chest with the fist of the other hand, and kicked his shin with the toe of a pointed boot.

Gavin jumped from the boot’s path, but kept her arm secure. “Stop. ‘Tis I, Gavin.” She stopped kicking and the free hand went to her mouth while she studied his face. A small squeak emerged from between full red lips. He watched her lips for a moment, then bent to place a kiss on the inviting mouth. She became rigid with no response.

He released her arm then backed away. She continued to stare as though he were a stranger, and he very well may be to her now. After all, five years in the wilderness of the New World can change a man beyond recognition.

Flora’s hand raised for an instant then came across his face with a stinging blow. He rubbed at the burning cheek. “How dare you,” she screamed above the wind. “You left me. You left me.” She hit his chest with both fists now.

Gavin grabbed her wrists, bringing her close. “Stop. I only want to see you, be near you once more. May I walk with you? Just a short distance?”

Flora stared. Her brown eyes larger now with surprise or mayhap shock. She stopped struggling and rested her head on his chest. A seagull called overhead and waves lapped against the shore of the firth. Gavin pushed the hood of her arisaid back, stroking her hair while wrapping an arm around her slender waist. The russet locks felt soft to his fingers. They smelled with the sweet fragrance of heather and salt air, just as he remembered and dreamed. The mist had damped one small curl so that it clung to her neck. He touched the softness of her skin where the curl lay. They stood for a long time. Flora now seemed reluctant to move and Gavin did not wish to spoil the moment.

Finally, she stepped back and looked into his eyes. A line creased her fair brow. “Why did you come back? I made a life without you.”

“I wanted to see you and the lad. Andrew sent a message while I was still in Barcelona waiting for a ship to the New World.”

Flora searched Gavin’s face. “You look older, tanned, hardened.”

“Aye. I’ve been living in a wilderness, defending myself from the wild natives and animals. Searching for gold while starving for food. Takes a lot out of a mon.”

“I am betrothed to a fine mon. One who loves and wants me and my bairns. I wanna have you back, Gavin. You left me carrying your bairn. I wanna have you back.” She beat his chest once more. Tears spilled over to her cheeks.

He grabbed her wrist. “I understand, Flora. I understand. I’ll leave you alone, I will. But I do want to see my son.” He kissed each tear-filled eyelid, then her cheeks, and not being able to resist the temptation, her tempting lips.

Flora didn’t resist and, when the kiss grew more passionate, responded. Her arms went around his neck, her body melted into his so her warmth reached his very soul.

She pushed away. “Why did you go without a word?”

“I dinna ken. I canna explain why.” He lied, not exactly an untruth, but an exaggerated one.

“Well, I ken. You fancied yourself to be in love with your brother’s wife. Now what are you gonna do about that? They’re happily married with a bairn of their own and another on the way.” Flora’s eyes flashed then she turned away, watching a crab crawl away on the sand.

Gavin grabbed her hand so she faced him. “I was wrong. I dinna love Maidie, ‘twas you I carried in my heart. I ken that now.”

Flora snatched her hand away. “I must go. My bairns are waiting. Phillip is readying for work in the fields and Ishbel is attending Gavy. Aye, I named him for his da, but call him Gavy.”

“I’m keen to see him.” Gavin didn’t want to beg, but he would if necessary.

“I live in Leslie Manor no’ far from Fàrdach Castle. Laird Andrew provides well for your son. He pays me a good wage as nanny for his bairns.”

“What of Phillip?”

Flora smiled with the mention of her oldest child. “Phillip is growing like a weed and favors his da so much I hurt to look at him. He helps with the land and sheep on the estate and trains with Laird Andrew’s slaugh.”

“A fine lad, indeed.” Gavin hesitated. “And what of my brother, the Laird of Fàrdach Castle?” An image of his brother popped into mind. Would Andrew welcome him back to Fàrdach Castle after all these years? Gavin doubted he would receive a warm welcome.

“The Laird of Fàrdach Castle grieved for his lost brother and tanist, but he’s happily married and in good health.” Flora gazed into his eyes. “I must go. You’re welcome to visit Gavy, but only visit, naught more.”

Gavin returned her gaze. “Aye, I’ll visit, naught more.”

With a nod of her head, Flora replaced the hood of the arisaid, turned, and walked in the direction of the house, not far from where they stood. Gavin watched until she took a path from the shore to the manor, his heart heavy with rejection. He didn’t expect, but hoped for more. Maybe she would turn back and accept him into her life once again. He watched, but she didn’t look back. Now the task of facing his brother, Sir Andrew Dubh Munro, Laird of Fàrdach Castle.

  ***

  Flora ducked behind a grass-covered dune to hide from Gavin’s view. She peeped over the grassy slope to gaze in the direction of the beach. He still stood, watching her. She turned quickly toward the house and didn’t look back. Her stomach churned and thoughts of him swirled in her head. He still raised a passion within the depths of her being she could not deny. Why did he come back? He should have stayed in the savage New World and never returned to Ferindonald. Life was complicated enough without the luring charm of Gavin Munro. He would certainly be around often to visit his son. What will Iain think?

The large manor house sat far enough away from the firth that high tides did not intrude upon the land, but close enough for a good walk along the shore when one’s heart ached and needed solitude. Flora often walked the shore of Cromarty Firth looking for dolphins, listening to the water lapping over rocks, and tasting the salt air on her tongue. She bathed in the firth on warm summer days, feeling the refreshing water on her skin.

She often took the bairns on an outing. They enjoyed wading and chasing the sea gulls. Sometimes they found pretty shells she took home, cleaned, and added to their collection. Other times she walked with Iain, while they made plans for a life together. Her life, if not the exciting one she knew with Gavin, had taken a quiet, peaceful turn with promise of a secure future. Now, he had returned and her insides felt like the firth during a storm with crashing, violent waves smashing against the rocks.

Flora saw the eye of her small son pressed against a crack in the large iron-studded oak door. When he saw his mother, Gavy opened the door wide and ran out to meet her, grabbing her long wool skirt then hanging on. She bent down to rub the small head full of russet curls.

“Mam, Mam, you left without me,” he whined.

“You slept and I dinna wish to wake you.” Flora removed his hands from the cloth and picked him up. He was heavier than she wanted to carry, and immediately put his feet back on the ground, taking his hand instead.

Gavy looked around Flora’s skirt, “I see Phillip.”

Flora turned. Her oldest son ran toward them with something awry from the looks of him. He barely nodded in her direction then ran into the house. She followed, dragging Gavy along by the hand. Phillip’s footsteps clicked on the plank flooring and then ascended the spiral staircase to his room on the second story. She released Gavy’s small hand once inside and gave it to Ishbel, the housemaid, who dropped the bundle of heather she carried. Flora followed Phillip to his room. The heavy door stood ajar, so she entered without knocking.

Her son, in the process of belting his father’s claymore over his young shoulders barely acknowledged her when she approached him. “What are you doing, Phillip? You have nae business with your da’s sword.”

Phillip jerked away and continued securing the large leather scabbard over his shoulder. When he insisted, she had let the young lad keep the claymore in his bedchamber, but he had solemnly promised not to use it except to practice with the slaugh.

Flora grabbed for the claymore again. “What are you doing?

“MacIntosh reivers burned a haystack. While we were trying to douse the fire, they stole ten head of cattle. I’m going with the chief to find them and get the cattle back.”

“Och, I give nae permission for you to go with the slaugh.” Flora held to the billowy sleeve of his léine.

“I dinna need your permission. I am of age, thirteen years.” Phillip’s dark head shook. His cheeks, already ruddy from exertion, reddened even more while bright brown eyes flashed.

Flora could only stare at her son. Thirteen summers and he thought himself a man. The heaviness of his father’s sword weighed down upon his shoulder. He practiced with the Munro cateran, but only with small dirks and bows, not with large claymores or the deadly falchion.

“I forbid you to go. You’re too young to take on such a task. The chief wanna allow it.” She grasped at Phillip’s sleeve when he brushed past her, but to no avail. Her son rushed through the open door. She followed calling to him, “Phillip you’re too young. The chief will forbid you to go.”

Flora watched Phillip’s back as he descended the spiral staircase, rushed through the great hall, and out of the door. Gavy whimpered when his brother strode by without acknowledging him. Phillip fancied his wee brother, and delighted in teasing the lad, rumpling his hair, and telling him stories of ghosts and fairies. Flora rushed to the yard as Phillip entered the stables. She could say or do naught to stop him, so she stood, waiting until he galloped by on a garron. They owned no war horse, and would never own one if she had her way.

She would not give her son up to fighting. Maidie, her friend and wife of the Munro chief, Laird Andrew, insisted her son, Sven, study the law. He would train as a barrister and live in a burgh. Sven would never see battle and fighting. Flora wanted the same for Phillip. Her sons were as good as Maidie’s. They should have the same opportunities.

Flora dashed back into the house and found Ishbel. “I’m going to the castle. Look after the bairn.” Crying, Gavy reached for her. Flora pressed a kiss on the plump pink cheek, then turned to leave. Mayhap if she could get to Fàrdach before Andrew left with his cateran, she could stop Phillip.

  **

  Gavin turned away and started toward the castle. His heart felt heavy like a rock in Cromarty Firth. Flora spurned him. She was promised to another, betrothed to another man. He came back to Ferindonald to see her, but she no longer loved him. Although she would not have him, he must see his son at all cost.

Fàrdach castle loomed before him. A large band of Munro warriors, some mounted and others on foot, were assembled on the grassy meadow outside of  the castle wall. Calls and war whoops rose from the horde. Those ahorse rode away to the west in a cloud of dust. The warriors afoot followed closely behind. Reivers must be about, with Andrew leading his slaugh to fight.

Hopefully, he would not have to face his brother this day. He could gauge the mood of the castle servants and occupants then decided if he should stay or go before meeting Andrew. Gavin fell in with some of the tenants making their way to the castle with their quarterly rents. One woman who had a chicken under her arm gave him a suspicious eye. The woman looked familiar. She may have been a neighbor of Flora’s in the village of Drumainn. The chicken squawked when Gavin walked by. The woman turned her gaze toward him and searched his face.

“Sir Gavin, is that you?” she asked in amazement.

“Madam.” He touched his forehead in a salute, then walked on quickly.

The woman walked faster as if to follow him, so he quickened his gait. He could hear her calling to others. “Sir Gavin’s home. Sir Gavin’s home.”

Calls traveled down the line of tenants entering and leaving the castle. Soon a small crowd gathered, following Gavin through the castle gates and under the portcullis. The guard in the gate house called then waved. He recognized the man and returned the greeting. Those within the outer bailey stopped their work or activity to welcome him home. Some gathered around. Small children tugged on his great plaide until it sagged beneath the thick leather belt. He tugged back, trying to keep some semblance of order about his person. The crowd followed him through the bailey, over the drawbridge covering a deep moat, then into the quieter inner yard. Guards called from the catwalk on the curtain wall. He saluted and returned the greeting. The great iron-studded oak doors of the keep opened. The chief of Clan Munro stepped out.

Gavin pushed his way through the crowd, jerked his plaide from the hands of a small, dirty-faced boy, and approached his brother. Andrew looked the same, but older with deeper lines on his brow and around his grey eyes. His raven hair hung in the usual warrior braids to the broad shoulders. He had trouble keeping the wry strands out of his eyes if not braided. The chief’s lips pursed into a firm line, then turned up on the edges with a broad smile. Without a word, he moved forward to embrace Gavin who returned the embrace with relief.

Andrew pushed away and studied Gavin’s face. “Welcome home, Brother. I thought you lost to Ferindonald forever.”

“Andrew. Good to be home. To see you. I figured you led your warriors and wanna be here.”

“The business of chief sometimes keeps me at my desk and ledgers instead of chasing thieves with my men. I’d rather be out with them any day.”

Gavin returned his brother’s broad smile. “You seem to be unchanged except for deeper wrinkles, and do I spot a few grey hairs among the ebony?”

“Aye. More than a few grey, I’m afraid.” Andrew gave Gavin a pat on the shoulder. “I sent Alan with the slaugh. Only a small band of reivers pestered us. Alan was elected tanist when you left Fàrdach. Come inside to greet my family. The ruckus you caused has them all aroused and curious.” Andrew motioned for Gavin to go ahead.

Gavin stepped inside to the great hall of Fàrdach. Nothing much had changed. The same boar and stag heads looked down from around the claymores, broadswords, axes, lances, and targes. Maybe a few more weapons had been added. Andrew seemed ready for a mighty fight. Reivers must be plaguing Ferindonald with their stealing and looting. Servants spread bundles of dried heather across the flagstone floor, filling the hall with a sweet aroma. They stopped and nodded toward Gavin with broad smiles. Shafts of light streamed through the small keyhole windows, causing dust motes to dance on the air. A large grey, shaggy hound lumbered up to Andrew who reached down to scratch the dog behind the ear.

“’Tis no’ the same hound with all the pups the bairns played with?” Gavin asked, eyeing the huge dog that stood up to his brother’s waist. “Seems like I remember a brown and white dog.”

“Nae, the hound and all her pups went out to tenants who needed good rabbit dogs. This large, lumbering thing is a gift from Maidie for my birthday of thirty years.”

“How does Maidie fair? And Sven?” Gavin brought himself to ask.

“She fairs well, and gains in beauty within and without each day.” Andrew smiled, showing white teeth through his salt and pepper beard.

Gavin’s heart skipped a beat with the mention of Maidie’s beauty. Her memory still held a special place in his heart, although he gave her up to Andrew five years before. He felt self-conscious, covered with road dirt and unshaven. He bathed in a cold burn three days ago and scrapped his beard with a dirk, but now stubble covered his face. The men turned toward the stone spiral staircase to watch two women descend. One held the hand of a small dark-haired lassie. The other, wearing a gown of blue silk clinging to her comely form now large with child and a thick braid of golden hair hanging down her back, held the hand of a blonde curly-headed lassie. Andrew’s smile grew brighter. He walked toward the group, taking the younger blonde bairn in his arms.

“Come family and greet our brother who returned to us this verra day.” Andrew said, bringing the group to Gavin. “This bonnie lassie is my daughter, Andrina.”

Gavin stroked the small fair hand. The bairn smiled. Her blue eyes sparkled, and he saw Maidie’s bright eyes smiling at him, then she buried her pretty head on Andrew’s shoulder. Her father patted the small head with a gentle, loving touch. He reached for Maidie’s arm, drawing her forward. Gavin swallowed a large lump forming in his throat. She was more beautiful than he remembered. Married life and having bairns agreed with her. He bowed.

Her blue eyes glowed. “Hello, Gavin. Welcome home.” Then her eyes roamed over his dirty, disheveled clothing. “Seems you’ve journeyed long and hard.” She placed her hand upon his arm. A chill ran down his spine. “We’re so verra glad you returned home and hope your stay with us will be a long one. I’ll have your old chamber made ready with a bath.”

Gavin could only smile and nod his head at the lovely lady. His heart beat much too wildly to say more, so he turned to look at the other lassie and her maid. “Hello, Nellie. You look well. How is Briana?” He tried to take Briana’s hand, but she jerked back. Gavin looked at Andrew. His brother shrugged his shoulders.

“Briana is leery of strangers these days. Of a sudden she’s become shy, and clings to Nellie. I can hardly touch her, myself.” Andrew made a sign with his hands to the lassie. She shook her head then hid her face in Nellie’s dress. “Briana is learning to speak with her hands. She learns quickly, but wanna speak around strangers. We are all learning to talk to her with our hands. Sven is teaching the family and anyone who wants to learn. He studied a book I brought from Edinburgh.”

Gavin turned to Maidie. “You must be proud of Sven.” She smiled and nodded. He spoke to Andrew. “You have a lovely family, M’Laird.”

Andrew placed his free arm around Maidie’s shoulders. “Aye. These dear ones are the light of my life.” He gave Andrina to her mother then planted a lingering kiss on Maidie’s lips. Gavin wondered if his brother did that for his sake. Probably. Like a hound marking his territory. “Come, let’s go to the tiltyard before Maidie gets you into the bath. Several of the luchd-taighe that dinna go with the slaugh are practicing. They’ll want to bid you welcome.” Andrew took Gavin’s arm, turning him toward the door.

He turned back. “Thank you, M’Lady for being so kind. I shall look forward to a comfortable bed and hot bath. Both have been few and far between these past five years.” Her lips, now rosy from his brother’s kiss, parted in a smile.

The two men made their way out of the keep and walked through a heavy door in the curtain wall of the inner bailey that led to a broad meadow beyond. The large wolfhound followed at Andrew’s heels. Several warriors dressed only in a great plaide held secure by a broad leather belt practiced with claymores, broadswords, and bows. One rode a horse toward a target and threw a spear at the center. The spear met its mark with a thud. Two men wrestled within the center of a small group who cheered for one or the other. Gavin smiled, remembering the many days he practiced with the warriors. This sparring field felt more like home than any other place in the castle or the whole of Ferindonald, except maybe the small box bed in Flora’s black house in Drumainn Village. Ah, remembering the reason he left seemed harder with each passing day.

Andrew’s voice broke through Gavin’s revelry. “Have you seen your son?”

His brother’s unexpected words took him aback. “Aye. That I have, Brother—from a distance is all.”

“You ken Flora is betrothed. He is Iain MacKay, and a finer fellow you’ll be hard pressed to find.”

Gavin turned to stare at Andrew. Did he think Flora would never love again? “So ‘tis Iain who won her heart. I remember the first son of the MacKay being wild and rambunctious, always looking for a way out of duty.”

“Iain’s gained in maturity these past five years, and being the first-born will inherit his father’s title and land. Flora could do nae better.”

“Did you arrange the marriage, thinking I may never return to lay claim to my son?” Gavin felt a tinge of ire rising around the idea of his brother arranging the marriage of his love to another.

“We dinna ken whether you lived or died at the hand of savages. When nae word came from you year after year, I began looking for a suitable mate for Flora and a da for your son.” The light in Andrew’s grey eyes faded. A deeper line formed between his heavy brows. “What would you have me do, Gavin? Keep Flora unwed and your son with nae da to see to his raising? Phillip needs a father also.”

Of course the chief was right in his decision. He had obligations to the members of his clan—to take care of their welfare and keep them safe. Andrew made the only choice left to him in Gavin’s absence. He found Flora a suitable mate and a father for Phillip and Gavy. Flora’s and Iain’s love for each other did not matter, they could make a good life together.

Gavin started to walk away, but Andrew put a hand on his arm. “Brother, I expect you to abide by the betrothal contract and leave Flora be. Make nae trouble for Iain.”

“What about my son? Will I be allowed to see him?”

“Aye, with restraint. You gave up rights to the boy when you left his mither.” The eyes of the two men met. Andrew didn’t blink. Gavin knew his chances with Flora were nil.

  About the Author

  The desire to write historical fiction has long been a passion with Brenda B. Taylor. Since elementary school, she has written stories in her spare time. Brenda earned three degrees: a BSE from Henderson State University, Arkadelphia, Arkansas; a MEd from Sam Houston State University, Huntsville, Texas; and an EdD from Texas A&M University, College Station, Texas; then worked as a teacher and administrator in the Texas Public School system. Only after retirement could she fulfill the dream of publication.

  Brenda and her husband make their home in beautiful East Texas where they enjoy spending time with family and friends, traveling, and working in Bethabara Faith Ministry, Inc. She crafts stories about the extraordinary lives of ordinary people in her favorite place overlooking bird feeders, bird houses, and a variety of blooming trees and flowers. She sincerely thanks all who purchase and read her books. Her desire is that the message in each book will touch the heart of the reader as it did hers in the writing.

  Her latest book is the historical romance, A Highland Ruby.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

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BLOG TOUR – A Highland Ruby was originally published on the Wordpress version of SHANNON MUIR'S INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS.

[brittaden]

#1 for the festive prompt :)

“Is that mistletoe?” combined with anon’s “Exactly how much more hinting do I have to do?”

The diner was dark, illuminated only by the soft light that poured through the window and cast a warm glow on the two inside. They were quiet, rare for her - not so much for him, as they watched the procession march their way down the street. It was only the rehearsal as Stars Hollow geared up for their annual Christmas pageant and parade yet it was all the same to her. Magical and charming and the perfect way to ease into the Christmas spirit since it seemed to escape her this year. He was the opposite, seemingly devoid of all Christmas spirit besides the disgusting yet adorable Santa burger he whipped up a few days ago for her. As the procession moved too far down the street for them to see, she turned to face him to find him already watching her.

Lorelai felt the blush creep into her cheeks from the intensity of his gaze and she stumbled over her next few words. “Any chance I can get some coffee?”

“I already turned off the coffee, you can have whatever’s left,” Luke replied, leaving her side and flipping the lights for the diner back on.

And they were back to their usual bantering just like that.

“I love when men say that to me,” she remarked as she crossed the diner and waited by the counter. “I’ll take that to-go.”

He grunted in acknowledgment as he fixed her coffee. He snapped the lid on then slid it across the counter just as she was pulling out a couple dollars out of her jacket pocket to pay. He waved her off.

“Keep it,” Luke insisted. “It’s barely warm anyway.”

“Thanks,” Lorelai said. She nodded her head in the direction of the door. “I should go.”

“I’ll lock up behind you.”

Luke followed behind her, reaching in front of her to open the door when they approached. He fell in step behind her again as she crossed the threshold. They lingered in the doorway, her back to him. A few seconds passed before she turned around to face him. Her fingers were fidgeting with the plastic lid on her coffee cup. She found herself not able to meet his gaze for longer than a few seconds as she spoke again. Her eyes darting from his to anything else in her now limited view of the diner.

Her tone was nervous and she hated that she sounded almost vulnerable. “I just wanted to say thanks again…for the other night, you know. So, um, thank you.”

“I thought the hat was a thank you.”

“It was, it was,” she tucked her hair behind her ears, a nervous tick. “But I wanted to say it again so you knew and the hat wasn’t the only thing, so thank you. Again.”

He smiled at her. “You’re welcome Lorelai.”

She knew that she should go; in fact she told him again that she should go. Rory was at home waiting on her and he probably needed to get back to cleaning the diner since that’s what he was doing when she walked in but still she lingered. He didn’t seem to mind because he stayed right there in front of her, not questioning what she was doing or suggesting that he needed to get back to his cleaning. Something above their heads caught her attention.

“Is that mistletoe?” Her voice lilting up in confusion.

“What the…?” His question trailed off when he, too, noticed the greenery tacked on the door ledge next to the bell.

“Why do you of all people have mistletoe in the diner?”

“I didn’t do it. Taylor did,” Luke practically growled. “The other night when I asked him to lock up, he decorated the whole diner. It was like The North Pole threw up in here.”

She laughed at that. “Oh my god, I bet you were mad.”

“I trashed everything,” Luke replied. “And then put it all in his front yard.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks.”

Her eyes flitted up again to the plant above them. “You seemed to miss one thing though. I’m surprised Miss Patty didn’t notice it and try to corner you.”

“Which reminds me.”

When he reached up to snatch the mistletoe down from above his door, Lorelai wrapped her hand around his wrist to stop him. He looked at where her hand gripped his wrist then at her.

“What are you doing?��

“You can’t just take it down, that’s bad luck.”

He let out a scoff. “Who says?”

Lorelai let her hand fall away from his arm. “Uh, tradition.”

“Tradition is…”

“A trap,” Lorelai interjected. “I know, I’ve heard the rant.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if I take this down.”

Lorelai stopped him again. This time her hand slipped into his and pulled it away from the plant above them. She didn’t let it go. “It matters.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because it’s bad luck!”

“There’s no bad luck behind mistletoe.”

“Yes there is,” Lorelai said adamantly.

He decided to humor her. “What is this bad luck?”

She was still holding onto his hand. He had curved his hand to fits hers and neither one said anything about it.

“Well if someone is standing under this mistletoe and they don’t get kissed, it means bad luck for their romantic future in the following year,” Lorelai answered.

She only heard that once and never truly believed it because it had been said by Timothy in the seventh grade at an ill-fated party at her parent’s house where mistletoe was hung above a door-frame. He had used that line on all of her friends that were there. She figured he had only said that because he wanted to kiss her but she had no interest in him. Maybe that’s what she was doing now, pushing Luke like Timothy tried to push her.

She wondered why she was even pushing this. She didn’t want to kiss him, did she? Besides she had Max. She liked Max. She shouldn’t be pushing this. Luke was still holding her hand and now had started to rub his thumb slowly over the back of her hand. Perhaps her mother had gotten into her head, questioning her on why Luke was the one that brought her to the hospital and why she was with him and why he stayed up at the hospital for as long as he did.

“And,” she continued, finding her voice again after he started to caress her hand with his thumb. “I already have enough bad luck in that area so I don’t need you cursing me.”

“Okay,” Luke said. “So if it were you and say, Kirk, under the mistletoe, you wouldn’t want him to curse you either.”

“That’s not the same,” Lorelai managed to say. “Kirk’s an exception.”

“To what?”

“To life.”

Luke chuckled and his smile brought a smile to her face. “It’s just mistletoe. It’s more parasite than plant.”

“I’m not saying we have to do anything,” Lorelai assured him. “It’s just bad luck for the both of us if we don’t.”

He sighed her name. “Lorelai.”

And there it was, her answer from her earlier question. Why she was pushing this so hard. Why she insisted it was bad luck to not kiss under the mistletoe. It was the way he was looking at her, the way he said her name, and the way he hadn’t yet let her hand go and was instead rubbing her hand as he held it. He was the only guy that had been consistently there for her whenever she needed it. The only one she could depend on. The one, that now, she realized she wanted to kiss under the mistletoe. And he did look really good in that hat.

She liked Max, she really did. But he didn’t even know that her father had been in the hospital, she never brought it up on their phone conversations. They weren’t really in that place right now. And he hadn’t ever looked at her the way Luke is looking at her now. Luke had held her as she cried in the hospital. Awkwardly, of course and with an excuse for no handkerchief, but he made her feel safe and warm. He didn’t leave until he knew everything was okay.

“I’m pushing you,” Lorelai said softly. “So we don’t have to, it’s just a plant.”

“What about that guy?”

“What guy?” Lorelai asked, receiving only him staring back at her. She caught on. “Oh, Max. I didn’t know you knew about that.”

“I saw you two together,” Luke explained.

She took a deep breath. “I’m not so sure if that will work out.”

“Why not?”

“That depends on what happens now.”

“I don’t want to make that decision for you,” he replied.

“You’re not making this decision for me,” Lorelai insisted. “I’m making a decision and I’m checking to see if you’re on the same page.”

His hand still caressed hers. “Do you want this?”

She knew that was a loaded question. Much more than just a smooch under the mistletoe. There was always something more there. This wouldn’t be just about avoiding bad luck and cursing themselves for the year ahead. That was clear. Crystal clear.

Smiling, she looked up at him. “Exactly how much more hinting do I have to do?”

Her breathing was shaky as he let go of her hand and used it to brush a loose strand of hair out of her face. She leaned into his touch, nuzzling against his hand when he caressed the side of her face. She saw him leaning in and she matched his movements, leaning in to meet him in the middle. Their lips melted together in a soft kiss. It was fleeting at first, a hesitant kiss. Testing the waters before daring to take it a step further.

She was the first one to ask for more and he granted her wishes. His lips claimed hers in a passionate kiss.

In the midst of their heated kiss, she dropped the forgotten coffee cup in her hand when she tried to wrap her arms around him to pull him closer. The resulting splash cooled them off quite literally since the coffee had long cooled off itself. They jumped apart, him grumbling because most of it had landed on him and her laughing when she realized it was all because of coffee.

“This isn’t funny!”

She disagreed. “I’m sorry Luke, but it’s funny.”

He had to laugh too even though his shirt was beginning to stick to him.

She moved closer to him, avoiding the coffee that was beginning to puddle on the ground, and directed him back under the mistletoe with her. She matched him again, leaning in as he did so. But this time, she kept this kiss short.

“There’s something I need to do before this goes any further.”

“Right, of course.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Take your time.”

With that, they parted. She offered to stay and help clean up since she did make the mess but he declined the offer, telling her to go ahead and go home to Rory and they could talk later. Once they could get things figured out.

“Hey Luke,” she called once she was standing out in front of the diner and before he had shut the door behind her. “The hat looks good on you.”

The corners of his lips twitched into a smirk. “Good how?”

She let his question linger in the air when she finally walked away from the diner. He knew what she meant. And if he didn’t know then later, once things were settled, she could simply show him.