#couldn’t even give the slightest bit of respect and decency to us…..

[stardust-kitten]

it’s a weird state to be in when you’re no longer really sad about the person that hurt you but you’re just sad that you’re yet again stuck in this stupid fucking abandonment cycle where you always get burned

[chudleycanonficfest]

Day 27, Post #2 by @booksforevermore13

Author: @booksforevermore13

Summary:

"Well, considering the fact that you just asked me out - “

“and the fact that you turned me down,” he countered.

“- why not? she finished, grinning broadly. “And-and, if I had turned you down,” Ginny added, “I wouldn’t be going with you now, would I?”

“Fair enough."

Ginny’s spent the last two hours alone in a coffee shop. Luckily, a handsome stranger steps in

Pairing: Harry/Ginny

Prompt:

Meet-cute

Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

...

“Sorry I’m so late love, traffic is crazy right now,” he said loudly, overly loud to be called normal. Ginny looked around, sure the entire cafe could hear him from where he was standing. Not to mention he was an unnaturally handsome man, and men like that tend to grab a lot of attention in a coffee shop.

Did she mention she had never seen him before? 

Ginny watched him glance around and glare at a man staring at them, then bend down towards her. She almost automatically leaned away from him, and in all likelihood, she supposed he could see that she was uncomfortable, for he made sure to keep a safe distance between them.

Somehow, she felt that he was going to do that anyway.

“I’m Harry, just go with it, yeah? Whoever didn’t bother to show up is a git.”

Ginny frowned, dawning on her that this man she’d never seen in her life, who could essentially be a serial killer for all she cared, was trying to save her from the embarrassment that would follow when she got up after her two hour long wait in solitude.

Okay, fine. 

She lied.

Her boyfriend, no, she’d not considered him one for months now, but anyway, the git stood her up. Technically, he’d always been a git, but she’d thought he’d have the least decency to at least call. 

 Not that she hadn’t suffered the quiet glances enough, but she particularly didn’t want to see the pity that followed her when she got up to leave.

The self-respecting part of her wouldn’t have waited after the fifteen-minute mark, but she’d stuck around for the sole purpose of being miserable, because there really wasn’t anything else to do. And of course, for the hope that when and if he finally showed up, she’d enjoy giving him a piece of her mind. In the middle of the damn shop.

So, Ginny couldn’t help but smile for the first time that evening, because whoever this stranger was, he was doing a damn good job at turning her evening around.

She watched as he looked around the cafe, and pulled out the chair opposite her, stumbling while trying to sit. He didn’t make eye contact, but when he did, Ginny very nearly was taken aback by the dark green of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t have sat here hadn’t it been for the - “

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

 This close, she could see a lighter green coronary around his iris and try as she did, Ginny couldn’t help the blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she told him, and though she was glad he did, she was slightly embarrassed he had had to.

“Sure I did,” he replied while grinning, and it was one of those grins which were infectious enough to make even the likes of her smile. With one hand, she watched as he brushed his hair back, a few strands still over his eyes and Ginny struggled to keep the red away as their eyes met.

“I’m Ginny,” she said. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, and Ginny, for a second there, was overcome with how much of a gentleman he was. Surprisingly enough, she found herself knowing the meaning behind the word, the first time she’d happened to do so, for Michael had been everything but.

“You know,” she shrugged, “if you want, you can walk out right now, right now, and you don’t need to—”

“Why do you assume I want to leave?”

Ginny blinked, taken aback by the interruption. “I just thought,” she stuttered, “you’d, I’d- I just thought you did this out of pity, which is what is expected but —”

“I didn’t...”

“I don’t need it,”she continued, “trust me, I am well aware the person who left me hanging was a git but — hang on, what?”

And Harry laughed, ducking his head, and Ginny felt like she was eleven all over again, blushing at the slightest laugh, riling up at the smallest comment, her hormones all over the place.

“I’m not doing this out of pity,” Harry said, and then he blushed, much to her surprise, red spreading down his neck, and cheeks. “I did this because, I, uhh,” he fumbled for words, and became even more flustered as Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s nothing actually.”

“But?”

“You’re beautiful.”

She laughed at that, relaxing into her seat, enjoying how he’d riled up at that, his face completely red. 

For the first time that day, let herself relax, breathing out a sigh of relief. Was it relief or all of her pent up emotions at once? She didn’t know, but all she’d felt for the last few hours had been anger, annoyance, hurt, though the latter she refused to admit. She could only feel so much at once, she knew that, yet Michael had only added to her troubles and Ginny had let him.

She hated herself for that.

A moment later, she spoke up again, leaning towards Harry, still enjoying how he got all flustered by her words. Clearly, he wasn’t as smooth as she thought he had been.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Who’s that girl sitting back there,” she gestured, “the one who’s been looking at us for the last few minutes from over her menu?

Harry whirled around, and then started chuckling. The girl in question dropped down again, and Harry turned back.

“That’s Hermione,” he said. “She’s my sister, friend,” he rubbed his neck again, “best friend.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough.” 

Ginny had sat through Luna’s entire date with Rolf, she really couldn’t comment on it. 

A moment later, Harry spoke up again, as if he’d thought of something important and wanted to get it out of the system. “Can I ask you something?” he said, repeating her words from before.

She smiled, sitting back in her seat. “Fire on.”

“I think now would be a good time to order something,” he said quietly. “That waitress over there has been giving us the stink-eye since before I sat here.”

“Can I tell you something?”

Harry nodded.

“She’s been doing that since the last two hours.”

He started laughing again, ducking his head again, and Ginny joined him, shaking her head in disbelief. She was still having a hard time believing that she was this relaxed around a complete stranger when she couldn’t even be this close with her family.

Nevertheless, she called the woman over here, who introduced herself yet again as Alicia, and then proceeded to rip their orders down in her notepad, stalking away afterwards. When she disappeared behind the counter again, Harry looked at her again, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“What’d you do to rile her up like that?”

Ginny grinned, returning his look. “I don’t blame her, really,” she said and chuckled, “if I was the one with a customer sitting for two hours straight without even drinking one measly coffee, I would have done more than glare.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.”

Ginny looked at him, an eyebrow arched. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” she teased and Harry scoffed.

“Not even close. I’m trying to, though I don’t think I ever will.” 

“Good that.”

Behind him she saw the girl, Hermione, get up, and as Harry followed her gaze and turned, the girl looked at him, and smiled in reassurance, leaving a dollar note on the table and leaving. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s the one, now you be honest, she’s the one who pushed you to meet me, isn’t she?”

He had a sheepish look on his face as he shrugged, and Ginny threw her head back in laughter.

“How did you figure that one out?”

“You’re not as smooth as you think,” she teased, and Harry winced again, ducking his head as he smiled, and Ginny was glad she wasn’t the only one in their interaction behaving like a complete tween.

She took her time, observing him as the silence came after. It felt….comfortable, sitting with him, joking with him. There was a particular ease between them, one she hadn’t failed to notice, one she hadn’t shared with Michael or anyone she’d dated before.

He was handsome, Harry, with his lopsided glasses, and his green eyes sparkling behind them. If she could be so poetic herself, she’d have described it as a storm brewing in his eyes, the green of the forest across her house.

But she hadn’t failed to notice how it was slightly odd that he’d been here at the same time as she, and it was weird because it was a Monday, the busiest day of the week. He wasn’t an athlete, no athlete could be this charming and this flustered at the same time, and she didn’t know any other professions where they had a day off on Monday. 

“What were you doing here?” she asked suddenly, and then winced, wondering if her question had been a bit too forward. 

But Harry only shrugged. “Nothing of importance, really. I had a day off, so I decided to get out of the house for a change.” 

“Sounds reasonable,” she replied. It was quite a mundane reason, nothing like she’d imagined. Nevertheless, she didn’t push him, didn’t ask for details, though that was partly because she knew it wasn’t her place. But over the years, with Michael and Dean and every other bloke she’d been with, constantly nagging her for details, where she’d been, whom she’d been with, why she’d been there with whomever she’d been with, that she knew better.

And she had a strong feeling that Harry appreciated it too.

When their eyes met again, she couldn’t help but smile. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck again, and then leaned forward slightly.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked, and it was, if she could be so honest (a trait she didn’t possess) concerning that the very first thing Ginny thought was how much of a damn charmer he was and the second: she couldn’t wait to tell Luna.

Not for the first time, she found herself thinking she needed to get a life.

Ginny shrugged. “You’re the one with the plan. I do whatever seems fun at the moment.”

“And what exactly seems fun here right now?”

She looked around, giving a once-over of the place before shaking her head, shrugging.

“Nothing, nada. This is a most literal garbage dump.”

“Then how about we just talk?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, as if contemplating the great mysteries of the universe, before they burst out laughing, her eyes glinting with anticipation. It had been long since she’d felt this, this ridiculous fluttering in her stomach, this tingling she felt every time their fingers brushed together.

God, they were like two giggling teenagers. No wonder everyone was looking at them.

When she checked her watch under the table, it was six in the evening, and night was setting fast, their surroundings already a dusky blue. The door of the coffee shop was open, and every other minute, a huge gust of wind blew in, cool against the summer sun. Other than the two of them, there were only three other people in the shop, and one was just about to leave.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ginny smiled.

“You play for the London Dragons?” 

She frowned, slightly taken aback by how he knew that piece of information before he pointed out her jacket.

“Oh,” she chuckled drily. “Yeah, I do. It’s my last year in college.”

“I see.” 

Consciously, she tugged her sleeves down, clearing her throat in earnest. One minute she wanted to twirl around the cafe twice, giddy with excitement, and the other she wanted to jump twice in her chair in fear and anticipation.

Michael hadn’t been good for her emotions.

“Okay,” she mumbled. “My turn.” She cleared her throat, and Harry raised an eyebrow, to which she wiggled hers.

“Wh…. do you, um, do that?” She asked.

He looked at her in confusion, a slight smile playing on his face. He was adorable, and Ginny was having a hard time keeping herself from smiling too much.

“Do what?”

“This, when you laugh, you duck your head. Why do you do that?”

“I…..uh, I have no idea. It’s habit, I guess.”

“I see.”

They both solemnly looked at each, and then shared a smile, Ginny still feeling quite tingly in her fingers when they touched his. The couple sitting a few chairs away from them shot them a look, after which they had to shut down their sneaky-glancing contest, but that didn’t last long.

“So,” Harry shot her a mirthful smile, “tell me something about yourself.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow. “You save me from a dateless evening and now, you’re letting me talk about myself? Seems like I should be glad I was abandoned.”

“I think you should be more impressed by the fact that I know nothing about you.”

“And why is that?”

“So the chances of me mansplaining are next to none.”

Ginny laughed, sitting up straight in her chair. She folded her hands and looked at him. “Okay, one,” she started, “I, uhh...have six brothers, older, mind you and all of them are dolts of the highest calibre. Two, I have a dog, named Daisy, she’s a Husky, and the one being I love most in the world, and three, I am currently…. single.”

“Three things?”

“It’s your turn now.”

Harry laughed, and then copied her as he too, sat himself in the same position, his hands on the table, fingers drumming to a noiseless tune. “One, I have no siblings,” he clicked his tongue, and then continued. “Two, I….uh, I am an officer in Scotland Yard, under training though,” he said hurriedly as she looked at him in surprise, “and three, I’m twenty three, and single.”

She smirked, sitting back, satisfied, and trying to ignore the fact that he was single too (and failing miserably). “I didn’t know we had an officer in our midst,” she said.

“Under training.”

“Ah, well, potato, potahto.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head in exasperation, and they sat up as Alicia, the waitress came to their table, holding their order, which she, by all accounts, slammed onto the table.

“Oh well, she’s a pleasant one,” Harry muttered and Ginny smiled into her coffee.

She blew on it and took a sip, before blatantly making a face. “Oh,” she put her coffee down. “That-that’s not good at all.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s bitter. It’s very bitter.”

“Oh,” Harry passed her a sugar packet, one which she graciously ripped open, dumping it’s contents into her coffee, stirring it, as she looked up at him.

“Can I ask you something?” Ginny gestured at his hair, and consciously, he ran his hand over it, as if he knew what she was talking about.

“What’s,” she hesitated, “that scar under your…your hair?”

She knew she’d messed up at that, for his eyes hardened, and he looked down at his plate. It was clearly a painful subject for him, one he wished to keep private and Ginny felt herself thinking she should have kept herself shut.

“I was in an accident,” he explained as their eyes met and Ginny nodded hurriedly, not asking more. She looked away, though she could feel his gaze on her long after she had turned. 

“I have a feeling you want to ask something,” she smiled, and Harry nodded as he shifted in his seat.

“He, the person who didn’t show up,” he started, “he didn’t call?”

“No,” she replied sharply, before sighing. It was an awfully personal question, but she felt he deserved at least an explanation for why he had had to step in as her faux. “Michael, the boy, the git, and I,” she clicked her tongue, “well, we are too far gone to do something like that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry said quietly and Ginny shrugged. She’d never broached the subject before, her and Michael’s relationship, if she could even call it one, partly because she hadn’t bothered, and partly because she didn’t know what to feel about it. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I overstepped, I’m sorry” 

“No that’s alright,” she said, and waved her hands haphazardly around as if they could prove her point. “I mean we were broken up long before this. Four months, actually. This was basically grasping at needles in a haystack.” 

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Why didn’t you break up then?” Harry asked and Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. If she had figured that one out, she’d have put an end to this long since.

“I’m a bad girlfriend,” she chuckled drily. “He’s a bad boyfriend. We deserved each other.”

Harry didn’t ask more.

 It was a few long minutes before either of them spoke. Her brain was completely blank, one of those times where she didn’t say anything, didn’t think anything, just stared aimlessly at the sugar dissolving in her coffee.

“You know that gets me thinking,” she started, “why the hell did I date that jackass  in the first place?” Ginny looked at him, a smile playing on her lips, and a need to make the conversation lighter. “The answer to that question— well, I don’t exactly know— but, well, maybe because we were attracted to each other,” she said, nodding mockingly.

“But then that gets you thinking. I am, for example and this is completely hypothetical, attracted to pie,” Harry raised an eyebrow, hiding a smile, “or this coffee for example, but that doesn’t mean I feel the need to date it.”

She looked at him, and he looked at her, as if he didn’t quite know how to respond, and just like that, they burst out laughing again, as if they hadn’t been talking about her sorry excuse for a love life the very other second.

“I think that neither of us are drunk enough for this conversation,” Harry said between chuckles and Ginny laughed harder.

They paused as Alicia, the waitress shushed them from behind the counter, and looked at each other, both of them struggling to keep the chuckles in.

In a fit, she sipped on her coffee, immediately regretting it as she coughed, spitting the coffee back in the mug again.

“This is worse,” she coughed, gulping the water in. “This is like mud. Like bitter mud and sugar.”

Harry looked at her, slightly concerned before he pushed his chair out and stood up. “Okay,” he said. “That’s it.”

Ginny frowned in confusion, as he pushed the chair back in, slightly disheartened by what he was doing, but he only smiled, holding out his hand for her.

“Care to join me?”

Ginny tilted her head, trying out those words in her head and then laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, and Harry looked at her, she was yet once again, captured breathless by his eyes on her.

“Anywhere but here,” he said, and Ginny felt her cheeks heating up.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were asking me out on a date.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“I literally just met you!” she exclaimed, chuckling in disbelief. Harry was still looking at her, and she found herself pausing, hesitating and then asking.

“How about, as two people who just met?”

“How about as friends?” Harry countered. 

She shrugged, and then smirked. “Fair enough.” 

So, when he offered his hand again, Ginny took it, and let him pull her up and as Harry smiled back at her with that grin of his, she couldn’t help but grin like that. In a moment of irony, she realised that had Michael not been a bad boyfriend and her, not the essential definition of the Mad Hatter, they would have never been standing here.

He let go of her hand as she stood up, though it lingered near hers long after he’d left it. Ginny didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, smiling, and both of them, completely ignorant of the fact that Alicia was now staring pointedly at them.

“Well, considering the fact that you just asked me out - “

“and the fact that you just turned me down,” he countered.

“- why not? she finished, grinning broadly. “And-and, if I had turned you down,” Ginny added, “I wouldn’t be going with you now, would I?”

“Fair enough.”

...

[reinersbb]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 [𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] Chapter Four- Little Birdie

Chapter Four of Forget

The days from that eventful Saturday night passed on at a dreadful pace. It was official, midterms sucked a considerable amount, that much you were sure of. After a long week of exams, all you wanted to do was stay bustled in your bed after such a treacherous week.

Instead of taking a much-needed break with your free time, you were currently scrounging around your dorm. Carefully placing items that belonged to Floch in a cardboard box.

You had the slightest urge to keep ahold of one object, just one, one of his jackets as a remembrance of what was of the two of you. But at the last second, you decided against the idea and packed it in with the rest of his stuff.

"Where are you going again?" Ymir dabbed at her bottom lip using the back of her wrist to wipe the settlement of milk away that came from her bowl of cereal.

"I have to meet up with Floch and give him his stuff back," you said, continuing to double-check your dorm if you'd happened to find everything that belonged to him.

"You're a better person than I am," Ymir said, tilting her head back to drink the rest of the milk out of the disposable plastic cereal bowl, "I'd throw all of his stuff away without batting an eye."

The other day, you and Floch had a conversation over text to meet up and swap your belongings. Floch messaging you out the blue surprised you greatly. You hadn't talked to him since last Friday, the day he broke up with you.

"Yeah, well I want my stuff back from him," you replied, while it wasn't a complete lie, you wanted your possessions back, but you also wanted a reason to see him again.

And you hated yourself for it.

While Floch hadn't been too much on your mind, as soon as he messaged you asking to meet up, you couldn't keep him off of your brain.

"I think I have everything," you said while picking up the cardboard box, "I guess I'll be leaving now."

Tucking the box under your arm, your hip supported the box as you turned to look at Ymir. Ymir was getting up from her bed, putting away the disposable bowl into a wastebasket.

"Don't waste too much of your time on him," Ymir laughed.

"It's a get in, get out type of operation, I swear," you rolled your eyes, a smirk pulling at your lips as you headed for the door.

"If he's a dick to you and hurts your feelings just let me know and I'll kick his ass for you," what Ymir said sounded like a promise she had every intention on keeping.

But you brushed off her brute antics with a gentle smile, "thanks, Ymir."

You knew she'd have your back, for that you were thankful.

——————

Scanning the cafe thoroughly, your gaze combed over the herd of people until familiar fiery red hair fell upon your vision. Floch sat hunched forward, his attention dwelling into his cell phone. The cardboard box you'd been holding onto slapped against the table's surface Floch was sitting at as soon as you approached him. Causing him to jump, he nearly dropped his phone he'd been so well immersed in.

"You scared me," Floch lowered his phone to look up at you.

You couldn't help but laugh, "sorry," you lied.

"Let's just get this over with," he said with a sigh as he reached for a wrinkled shopping bag beside him that held all of your possessions.

He'd barely bat an eye to shove your things into a bag while you'd had the common decency to at least fold and put away with his things accordingly? The sight of carelessness alone left bitter distaste in your mouth.

And now you were silently regretting the decision to handle this transaction in public.

Then again, what did he owe you? It's not like he was your boyfriend anymore, he didn't have to hold the same amount of respect for you or your belongings any longer.

Maybe you were just too nice, especially to the guy who'd dumped you.

"Uh," you swapped the box for your bag of belongings, "thanks, Floch."

As Floch was examining the contents of the box, you couldn't stop yourself from speaking again.

"So, how you been?" As soon as the words left your lips, you bit down on your tongue as a knee-jerk reaction.

'Shut. The. Hell. Up.'

Why worry about his well-being? It was obvious he didn't reciprocate the same concern.

"I've been okay," his eyes bored into you without any interest. "Do we have to do this forced small talk right now? I've somewhere to be," Floch spoke again, standing up from the table.

"Of course, yeah," you took a step back, allowing him some space.

You wanted him to turn around and say something else, say something to you. A goodbye at least.

But all hope was lost as you watched Floch's backside as he walked away from you. There was no inclination that he'd turn around and catch a glimpse of you on his way out the building.

The plastic material that ringed around your hand fell victim to your nails as your fist clenched tightly. Your fingernails dug deep into your palm's soft flesh while watching Floch as he finally cut from your line of sight. The departure only leaving a dull pinch at your heart.

The rest of your body hardly kept up with the speed of your feet as you headed for the direction you originally entered from. Even though you were going back to your dorm to check out the contents of the bag, you peeled back the bag to take a quick look inside.

Your breathing stilled when you noticed an unfamiliar pattern on a shirt settled on the top of the rest of the items in the bag. Pausing for a beat in time, your feet locked on the ground beneath you as your hand meticulously scooped the shirt out of the bag to examine the material.

The shirt smelled of floral perfume, the potent kind that'd give a straight headache with a singular whiff. There was one thing for certain, this wasn't your shirt.

On the inside of your mouth, your teeth pinched at your cheek, fist crumbling the sheer cotton material as you pushed through the exit- only mildly running through people's way mid-process. Your heart was beating a thousand miles a minute out of blind rage.

There could only be one explanation, he'd been cheating on you with some other girl as the two of you were dating. That could be the only reason why there was a shirt in the bag that didn't belong to you. That or it was from a hookup after the two of you broke up, but you chose the latter.

Asking Floch about it definitely wasn't an option.

Within an instant, the shirt was tossed into the garbage as soon as you came across a waste bin. You didn't want to think about it. You knew nothing good would come about if you dwelled. But then again, what would change if you knew the truth?

With a sigh, you pushed your weight away from the trash can and took a moment to forward your attention to the dull sky above you. There you watched a formation of birds pass above in a tight-knit formation, and in the back of your head, you'd only wondered why you couldn't have been born as a bird instead. Then that way life wouldn't be as difficult, at least that was your thinking, even if it seemed a bit childish in the least.

"Are you feeling okay? You look like you're about to implode or explode or something," a familiar voice called out from beside, and your eyes reluctantly lifted to see Eren approaching.

"You hardly look recognizable when sober," you adjusted your stance to match face to face with Eren.

Eren stood tall, his hand hooked around the strap of his backpack that lazily laid on his right shoulder. His hair was tied back into a bun and the strands of his hair hardly weren't as messy from the first time you saw him.

"I'll take that as some sort of compliment and count that as you hitting on me," Eren whipped his head to knock all the loose strands of hair out of his face, a cheeky grin on his lips.

Out of response, you rolled your eyes but found yourself smiling as well. You could tell that under his flirtatious manner that he was only joking around.

"Sure, yeah, let's go with that."

"Back to my previous question, you're not going to explode or something-"

"No," you cut Eren short, "I'm not going to explode or whatever. My stupid ex pissed me off just now, that's all," you sighed, remembering the shirt that didn't belong to you.

"Exes tend to do that sometimes, but I wouldn't worry about it with whatever it was they did,"

"I guess," your voice trailed on, and you found yourself looking away from Eren to watch the crowd around you, unsure of what to say next.

It's only when Eren spoke again that your full attention was back on him in a heartbeat.

"Y'know a little birdie has been asking around about you."

"About me?" Your heart steadily galloped in your chest, "who?"

There could only be one person who'd been doing such things, you knew this. And you were thrilled in the least to think Jean had been speaking about you. But you didn't want to show any excitement and jump to conclusions in front of Eren, so playing coy would be your best bet.

Eren shot you a knowing look, "you two really seemed to hit it off when we were playing spin the bottle last week."

"Jean?" You asked with innocence.

"What about me?" A familiar voice from behind sent chills up your spine.

Through your peripheral vision, you watched as his presence cut to your right to stand in between you and Eren. Your toes tapped away in your shoes, deliberately battling away your nerves as you built up enough courage to look at the man you'd had a hook up with. And by Eren's word, the same man who'd been interested enough to ask about you.

"Speaking of the devil, I was just catching up with (Y/N) before you showed up," you felt a weight lift from your shoulders as Eren saved the moment.

Against your willpower, you couldn't contain your curiosity any longer when you finally glanced over at Jean. Jean's arms were wrapped around his chest as his narrow eyes were solely set on Eren.

"Talking about the party from last week," Eren spoke once again.

At the mention of the party, this was the first time Jean's eyes cut over to you. There was a glint of an indescribable emotion in his light brown hues as you held eye contact with him. You could almost put your finger on the emotion, it's almost like you'd seen the same look in his eyes before.

"Eren!"

Collectively, all three heads turned to a guy with short blonde hair with magnificent blue eyes.

"I'll catch you two later," Eren gave Jean a pat on his shoulder before sprinting off.

With Eren's newfound absence, there was a shift in the air around the two of you. Jean nonchalantly turned his head over to look at you once again. And instead of the cool exterior, he'd just been supporting, there was the faintest shift to relaxation in his demeanor.

"So," you twisted the shopping bag in your hand, unsure of what to say next.

"So..." Jean's voice trailed on, the corners of his mouth fighting the urge to curl into a grin.

"I'm sorry for just up and running the other night," you admitted, trying to cover your bashfulness.

Naturally, a bundle of nerves began to build up just by remembering the events that took place on the night of the party. Pressing your knees together, you fought back the memory that was clogging your mind to clear your headspace.

"If there's anyone who is in need of apologizing then it should be me for not getting any contact information to keep in touch with you when I had the chance."

A sharp jolt of electricity struck your heart, there was no point in trying to hide how fast your heart was beating.

Was he flirting with you?

'No...'

You played into his bid, "well, what's stopping you now, Jean?"

"Alright, I'll bite, can I see your phone please?"

"Sure."

Without any hesitation, you dug in your pocket for your phone. After unlocking your cell, the device flat in his palm that he held out. In a matter of seconds, Jean had your phone held out for you to take back.

"Here's mine," Jean said while handing his phone over to you.

Diligently you punched your number into his contacts, labeling yourself as your first name only. Only a few seconds later you were handing his phone back to him, his fingertips brushing against yours during the exchange.

"Sweet, now we can stay in touch," Jean bounced his phone against the palm of his hand. "Are you up to anything tonight?" He quickly added.

"Nothing much, really, why?" you replied, when in reality you'd been planning on binging YouTube videos in the comfort of your bed for the rest of the night and weekend.

"I was planning on going to this Halloween party tonight," his intense eyes scanned you up and down, "you should come too, it'll be fun."

"I'm assuming it would be some type of costume party? Does that mean I'd get to see you all dressed up?"

"Yeah I have a costume in mind," the lightest shade of pink crept on his face, "but you'll have to be there in person to see it."

"Sounds tempting, but I wouldn't know what to wear such short notice," It's not like you had a costume just lying about in your possession.

"Costumes are optional but they're encouraged."

"Give me some time to think about it, okay?" By looking at his face, you didn't have the heart in you to tell him no.

"Just shoot me a text whenever and I'll text you the address," Jean replied with a shrug, "or I'll just text you."

It wasn't until now that you noticed how close Jean was standing in front of you. Noticing the limited space between the two of you, his scent was intoxicating. A scent you were getting familiar with, warm cashmere, you could drown in it.

"Sounds good," you lifted a hand to send yourself off with a parting wave, "I have to get back to my dorm now, got some unfinished business to take care of."

And by unfinished business, you meant going through your belongings Floch gave back to you.

"Oh," Jean's smile faltered for a brief moment, but you didn't notice the disappointment in his voice when he spoke, "I'll leave you to it then."

"Bye, Jean," you'd already started on your departure, your feet sliding on the pavement beneath you as you took backward steps.

Jean found this amusing as he let out the faintest laugh, "see you later, (Y/N)."

Light brown hues stared through you until you turned your head with the rest of your body as you carried on home. During mid-process you glanced over your shoulder to look behind and steal a glance only to get caught by Jean himself. He'd turned to look over at you at the same time. A gallop in your heart and a boost in your step, you sped away in a fury of embarrassment.

Before you were even back to your room, there was a vibration from your phone. You pulled your phone out of your pocket as you scurried down the hallway, heading for your door that was just down the hall.

A message from Jean had your heart thumping.

'Already?'

Within an instant, you were checking the message.

Jean: I hope I get to see you again at the party tonight.

Along with Jean's message was an attachment of the address.

Unbeknownst to you, a smile had crept onto your face when you noticed that Jean had added a selfie of himself as the contact photo.

'When did he have time to sneak a photo?'

Pushing through the door to your room, you immediately tossed your bag at your bed. The bag fell to the floor just before reaching the bed.

"What the hell?" Ymir asked with a bewildered expression, a towel clutched in her hand as she dried her hair.

"Ymir," your voice was urgent as the door closed behind you after entering the room.

Ymir who'd had every intention on keeping her earlier promise greeted you with concern, "what is it? Did something happen?"

"I need your help finding a costume for a party tonight."

[mugiw4ra]

Yours and Mine.

The Joker doesn't take kindly to those who disobey him. You're his queen, and he expects much, much better of you. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, BDSM, bondage, sub/dom relationship, female reader.

6k+ words // AO3

Long story short (heh), this is basically the Doffy x Reader fic I've always wanted to read, so I took the bull by the horns and wrote it instead. I'd be down to write a few follow-up chapters, maybe bring Law into the mix. I really love this dynamic of Doflamingo being Doflamingo and having the brattiest Queen under his wing. I loved writing this and yes, it's a bit long, but I promise it pays off! xxx 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The warm sun kissed your skin as you strode through the royal gardens. As common with your previous visits to the King of Dressrosa, there appeared to be fewer staff attending the castle the closer you reached the front gates. You couldn’t even sense the presence of Doffy’s makeshift family, and your observation haki almost never failed you. Not having to look at Trebol and the annoyance of the rest of his crew was a relief to say the least. The black longcoat you wore to preserve your decency billowed behind you, and your velvet pink stilettos clicked on the brick pavement with every step you took. You were a queen coming home to claim your king as a prize for your spoils of war, and damn if you didn’t look the part. While he wasn’t a faithful partner, you were seen among his allies as the only weakness he’d ever been clumsy enough to expose. You were invaluable to him, and the respect he gave you may have been the only dead giveaway. 

The guards manning the towering front gates stiffened as you approached. They pulled the doors open without hesitation, and bowed as you passed. You gave them the slightest wave and fought back the smugness on your face. After years of being involved with Doflamingo, the feeling of being on top of the world was still something you hadn’t gotten quite used to. 

The courtyard was empty. The smell of roses hit your nostrils before you were able to take in the rest of your surroundings and it felt like a sigh of relief. It had been far too long since you’d visited this beautiful kingdom. A bubbling fountain sat idly in the center, and if you didn’t have an impatient warlord waiting in the next room you could have spent the entire afternoon right there. The entire castle was magical, but this was your favorite spot. It was so serene, and the warmth this place held was such a stark contrast against the power that loomed deeper within the stone walls. As you neared the halls connecting to the throne room, your stomach began to somersault in anticipation. You hadn’t seen Doflamingo in months, and if his family were nowhere to be seen, he had only one thing in mind for your arrival. He could never be bothered to give you a proper greeting, but you didn’t need one. It meant more to you to keep him waiting, the anticipation leading up to something he could never get tired of. Your heeled footsteps echoed through the halls. There were no guards to open doors for you this time, but the grand throne room doors opened regardless. You passed through the egress without changing pace. 

At the end of the long room sat the man in pink on his majesty’s throne. The cathedral ceiling and tall windows illuminated him, and you smirked as he looked you up and down without saying a word. You shrugged the jacket to the crook of your arms to reveal bare shoulders, exposing a skin tight strapless black dress that just barely covered your assets. Doffy sat with one leg slung over the arm of his elaborate chair and sunglasses hung low on his nose. A grin spread across his cheeks, and a faint blush teased at yours. You kept his eyes on his as you drew closer, not losing your composure. 

“Little flower,” he growled, the deepness in his voice never failing to send shivers up your spine. You’d be lying if you denied the warmth in your center hadn’t already begun to pool. 

”You’ve been absent for far too long.” 

“I hate to keep you waiting,” You purred. “Your enemies are getting pesky. If you keep pissing them off the way you do, you’ll have to do a bit more than wait if you want me back sooner.”

The back-handed sass was not warmly welcomed. 

“Oh, really? Have you weakened, little one? You don’t think you’re up for the simple task of keeping my kingdom peaceful anymore?” His voice began to rise, and while he was obviously toying with you, you began to feel smaller and smaller. 

You scoffed at him, and Doflmaingo’s grin grew wider as you drew closer. You were eye level with his bare chest now, just nearing the foot of his throne. 

“And what would you do with me then, captain?” Your voice was low and seductive. You tread these waters carefully. “Drown me? Slice me in two? Throw me off the island and hunt me down?” You crawled onto his lap slowly, with your legs on either side of his waist, forcing his leg to come down and sit properly. You could already feel the bulge in his skin-tight pants as his pink feathered jacket brushed kisses on your bare thighs. He swiftly pulled the coat off your back and let it fall to the floor. You took his hand and formed a makeshift gun with his fingers, holding the barrel under your chin to look up at him helplessly. “Shoot me down?”

 His booming voice quieted, and you could feel the steady breaths of the monster in front of you rise and fall in his chest. The muscles in his stomach rippled as he moved against you. 

“Stop giving me reasons.”

He snatched your wrist that touched his hand and held it above your head, rendering your entire right half useless.  His strength was unfathomable and struggling against it, despite your own power, was useless. 

“So confident,” He spoke sternly. “So gutsy. All this time, and that fire in you still burns. What do we make of that? How do we punish one that refuses to behave?”

Doflamingo’s grin was inches from your lips and you ground down onto him, stifling a whimper. After so long, this was quickly becoming all too much. His power, his voice ever teasing and taunting you, his strong hands binding you and holding you back. His length sitting directly between your legs growing with every move you made. 

His eyes travelled the length of your body. Doflamingo released your arm and with one swift motion, stood and slung you over his shoulder. One hand gripped your now exposed ass firmly while he made the route to his king’s quarters. 

You were comfortable enough with him to giggle as you settled into place on his back. 

“I thought I kept you waiting!” You taunted, “We have to go somewhere more comfortable? Really?”

His vice grip on you relaxed a bit, enough for him to turn and glance at you.

“I have something special planned for my disobedient queen. Impatient? Really?” A chuckle escaped his lips. 

After making your way through his library, you ended up in the bedroom you shared. Yes, you had your own wing of the castle but he liked your company more than he often cared to admit. He would summon you here at times, only to sip wine and sit in his arms while he read aloud and mused at the latest world news. You would sit and listen, give in to his desires, and enjoy having him all to yourself. You were, after all, more than happy to be at his whim. 

The large room had more floor to ceiling windows along with beautiful opened french doors that connected to a balcony. White curtains fluttered in the breeze that breathed life into the space.  The bed was the centerpiece of the room, one that was truly fit for a king. Where plush pillows and fluffy duvets once sat were now silk sheets and two or three ordinary pillows. The simple bed made a clear statement: nothing was going to get in the way. 

Doflamingo quite literally threw you onto the mattress, and with your hair haphazardly falling in your face, you kicked off your no longer needed heels. You smiled up at him, admiring his features that you missed as he unbuckled the belt on his jeans. 

“Where were we? Ah, yes,” he hissed. “Apparently you’ve forgotten how little I tolerate sass. That’s something we’re going to have to fix.”

His gaze turned cold as he folded the belt in two and pulled a chair from the nearby table. Out of thin air, his silky white strings appeared at your wrists and tugged them together in front of you to form a perfect, unbreakable knot. 

“Why you become such a little brat when you come back to me is curious.” Your wrists pulled forward, forcibly yanking you upright to sit up straight at the edge of the bed. “It’s almost as though you enjoy this.”

You peered over at him while he slid off his feathered coat, expertly hanging it on the back of the chair. Admiring every inch of the tanned skin you longed for, the warmth between your legs grew stronger and spread throughout your lower half. You were at his mercy, and you’d eat up every second of it. You arched your back and let your bound wrists fall between your legs. The scant dress nearly falling off of you slid further down your chest as you sat up, just barely revealing more of your chest. Not paying you much mind, Doffy found his place in the chair.

“I like pushing your buttons.” You smiled mischievously, “I like that I’m afraid of you and how much that makes me want you. You’re dangerous, and the fact you haven’t killed me yet means I get to keep coming back to this.” You gestured vaguely with your now useless hands. 

This earned you yet another tug at the wrists, now pulling you up and towards him without hesitation. Doffy gazed up at you, with a vile look of hunger smeared across his face. 

“If I killed you, I wouldn’t get to do this to you. I wouldn’t get to see your adorable little ass walk into my castle like you own the place, I wouldn’t get to see you beg, and I wouldn’t get to fuck you into submission because of it. You belong to me, and you shouldn’t take that lightly.” 

You moaned at his words and with a hot breath passing your lips, he pulled you forward yet again to bend you over his knee. He tilted his head down to speak low and clear into your ear.

“Now, why am I punishing you, little flower?” 

A hand gently pushed your dress up around your waist to reveal pink lace, a sight that did not go unnoticed by the man looming over you. He took a moment to toy with your lingerie, grabbing at your ass and letting his fingers just barely brush between your legs. You quivered at his touch. 

“I kept you waiting.” You smirked. 

Until a strong hand ferociously met your behind. The power behind the strike jolted you forward, and you cried out in both surprise and pain. The chair shifted beneath you. You were sure it was going to leave a bruise. 

“Wrong. Try again.” He massaged the angry skin with care, letting your tense muscles relax. 

“I disrespected you.” You sighed against his thigh, your breath now hot and heavy as you waited in anticipation for another blow. 

“I have never questioned your respect for me. I have never doubted your loyalty.” The look of confusion was torn for your face as quickly as your lace panties were ripped off of you. He warms you up this time, slowly rubbing the spot on your ass before giving another devastating blow to your other cheek. You cried out again, more of a moan this time. He was enjoying this. You could feel him straining against his pants underneath you. You whimpered at his touch. “Again.”

“I gave you attitude. I was rude and disobedient, and for that I’m sorry.” Your voice was rough and shaky, your entire lower half trembling from sizzling pain and arousal. 

“Finally. You’re supposed to be smart, my queen. But how do I know you’re truly sorry?” He teased. Another finger brushed against the length of your slit. “How do I know you won’t come home to me again and give me another headache?”

You stifled another moan. His touch felt like fire and all you wanted was more. You’d waited long enough. 

“You’re already so wet for me. You expect me to do something about it when you act the way you do?” The binds around your wrists tightened as if to drive his point home. “You think I’m done teaching you this lesson?” You groaned as he prodded at your center once more. “I’m going to spank you again, much harder, and we’re not going to repeat this again. Do you hear me?”

You nodded. 

Strings appeared again in front of your face this time, wrapping around your head to form a makeshift gag. You were able to bite down, and were grateful. It wasn’t out of restraint this time, but out of care. This was going to hurt. 

“I think we’ll do three. Bare, with the belt, and you’d be wise not to stifle whatever noise I rile out of you.” He lowered to your ear once more. 

“If you need a break, kick me.” He gestured his foot behind yours. 

You nodded once more in recognition. 

Doflamingo let his belt graze against your ass carefully, allowing you to feel the cold leather grace your skin. Shivers ran through every limb as you braced what was to come. He wound his hand back, and let the belt fall into you with incredible force. The smack echoed in the giant room. You yelped in pain and finished with a moan as you bit your restraint. You felt his other hand reach behind you to play with your now dripping pussy. 

“Good girl.” He purred. A finger dipped inside you. “Don’t hold back.”

The sinful noises escaping your mouth at this point could not be stopped if you tried. You were aching for him. He kissed the reddened mark the belt had left and wound up again, pushing the finger teasing you even further. Drool was pooling at the corners of your mouth and false tears in the corners of your eyes. The next spank was harder than the last, and your ass was almost numb from the pain. You could already feel the welts beginning to rise. You cried out in desperation, pushing your hips back to grind against the finger inside you. 

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”  

You groaned, whipping your head around to glare at him. He looked you dead in the eyes, and pulled his finger out to draw circles around your bundle of nerves. 

You nearly lost it. 

“One more, dear. One more.” You moaned again, he was fully erect underneath you and you couldn’t understand how he was still comfortable. Your want, surpassed by need, now had evolved into unadulterated hunger. You were putty in his hands and if it meant him fucking you into oblivion, you would obey his every desire. 

With an act of finality, the belt tarnished your sensitive skin one last time. You bit down on the strings, hard. Doffy’s hand left your center, and if it hadn’t you would have unraveled then and there. His hands immediately made their way back to your ass, massaging you deeply and with care. The strings around your mouth and wrists vanished, and he pulled you up to stand with him. You were dripping down your thighs, your lips red and full from ache. He leaned your head up towards his, and pulled you in with longing. His kiss was warm and welcome. 

“That’s my girl.” He half moaned against your lips as his tongue wound against yours. Your hands dipped below the waist of his bottoms and he allowed you to slide them down, freeing his member from the former constraints. His hands were all over you. Travelling the length of your arms, lingering at your now bruised wrists. He groped at your hips and pulled you closer to him. You let your fingers trail his impressive length. The dripping precum slicked your hands as you gently gripped the rest of him. He sighed into your collar and took your jaw in his hand. He tilted your head out of the way as he sucked and bit at your neck, leaving a pattern of bruises and marks along the way. His teeth grazed you a bit harder before he spoke, 

“Undress.”  he commanded. His gravelly tone against your sensitive skin sent fire through you. You stepped away, and lifted an eyebrow at him. 

While he was exploring the curves of your figure he’d already unzipped the backing of your dress. You slowly and carefully pulled the garment from your torso to reveal a bare chest. It had been snug enough to make your breasts bounce when they were set free. As you pushed it down your hips, Doffy settled on the bed. He rested on his elbows, and had already stripped his lower half. His caramel skin glistened in the small peeks of sunlight that shone into the room. He was a beautiful, dangerous creature. He felt you belonged to him, but he was unfortunate not to realize that he was very much yours in the same regard. 

You kicked the dress away from your ankles and made your way over to where Doflamingo had relaxed. You watched as his eyes drank you up from head to toe. He sat up to pull your waist closer. 

“I had a reward for you.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “But you just have to be full of surprises.”

“My love,” You smiled down at him adoringly. “would you even want me around if I wasn’t?”

Doffy planted kisses across the curves of your hips, releasing your abdomen to knead at your ass. You instinctively thrust forward. Your decency was replaced by greed and desire, trying to get his lips closer to the part between your legs. The haze from being so close to climax and having it stripped away from you left your body in complete control. 

“I’d want you.” His tongue lingered just below your belly button. You gasped, and he continued. “Just as much as I do now. I chose you not because you’re unpredictable,” He kissed a trail down and allowed his expert tongue to take entire length of your aching pussy. “But because your fire makes you fight me at every turn.” Expletives crossed your lips and you tangled your fingers in his golden locks. He smirked up at you. “Because you melt in my hands. Because you lose that tenacity when you remember who you answer to.” 

“Dof-” 

You couldn’t finish his name before a whimper was released first. Doflamingo buried his lips in your folds, his lips sucking as he drew circles around your clit. You closed your eyes and rested into him. A hand left your ass as you did so. He drug his nails up the front of your thigh before teasing your entrance with his middle finger. You trembled at his ministrations. You were already so close, and the thought of him filling you with every inch of his girth had you moaning shamelessly. He pushed deeper inside of you, adding another finger and curling them as his tongue made quick work of you. His tongue flicked over your sensitive bud with purpose. He let just his tip tease you before flattening to lap at the entirety of your swollen core. 

You cried out as the overwhelming pleasure washed over you. His digits brushed against your walls just slightly faster as you rode out the peak. You had already been so close, that this was beyond enough to bring you over the edge. The electricity in your veins spiked and the stimulation on your clit was already becoming too much. After being deprived of his touch for so long, the release he gave you was blinding. You felt something brush against your arm, under your breasts, and again across your back. You opened your eyes just in time to see Doflamingo’s threads leaving his fingertips against the small of your back, and entangling thick knots around your torso and arms. You recognized the pattern, but couldn’t quite remember the name. He smiled up at you. 

“Your turn.” He purred. He removed his fingers from you, and gently massaged your now puffy lips. The ropes that had formed around your upper half tightened in an instant to bind your arms to your back. You couldn’t move, and you felt a sudden pressure hit your shoulders. It was as if an invisible person was pushing you down towards the floor. You didn’t even try to fight it, and you allowed Doffy’s binds to bring you to your knees. Doflamingo sat up straight on the satin linens, stroking his impressive length with intent, but eyes were focused only on you. He looked down at you with a sneer and brought his tip just inches away from your lips. You opened your mouth just slightly, a tiny “o” beckoning him to you. You looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes you could muster, and you knew fully well how mad it drove him. 

You let your chest fall forward and your nipples brushed against your restraints. Your eyes left Doffy’s to lick his cock from base to tip. A hand began to rest on the back of your head and with a combination of your current position and the binds holding you back, the heat in your center resurfaced. You teased his tip playfully, dancing kisses across it before licking its circumference. Doflamingo’s abs stiffened, which directed you to slowly take his length, inch by inch,  until it grazed the back of your throat. A little over halfway, you knew straight away it wouldn’t be enough for him. You continued regardless and began taking long strokes. You hollowed your cheeks and just before you let him leave your mouth, you swirled your tongue around his tip. You swiftly took him as deep as you could once more. Finally, this earned you a sinful groan from your partner. His head fell back as he immersed himself in the white heat you began to burn at his core. You continued, with Doffy holding his cock poised perfectly to your lips. The warm, wet stimulation had him gripping your hair and manipulating your head up and down his shaft. He began pushing you to go deeper. The pain from your hair being pulled and him using you for raw pleasure had you moaning against him. Your vibrations against his throbbing member drove him wild. Your eyes began to water and you lapped your tongue around his tip at every chance he gave you. He forcibly brought your head lower and pushed you to take all of him at once. He fucked the back of your throat and let out a guttural moan. You fought his hand that now had a vice grip on your hair, but it was to no avail. His thrusts were deep and strong. Your eyes watered and where moans once filled the air was now silence, save for the wet sound of your saliva mixed with precum pooling in the corners of your mouth and dripping down your chin as he brought you up and down. 

You knew he was close. He was impossibly hard and had lost himself in desire. Doffy’s hold on your hair did not weaken as he pulled your mouth off his throbbing erection. You gasped for air while he allowed you a moment of composure. Composed, however, you were not. Drool was falling from your lips and you looked up at him desperately. You felt at this point that he could do whatever he wanted with you, and you would eat up every second of it. This moment and chemistry was what kept you coming back for more. You couldn’t imagine another human being able to give you this same feeling, whatever it was. 

“Is this,” you huffed, “the grand plan?” You looked up at him with raised eyebrows and a cheeky grin, half proud of yourself that you hadn’t just choked on his cock, but also curious as to how far you could push him. Doflamingo furrowed his brow and a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

He yanked your head back to look up at him. 

And then slapped you across the face. 

Not full strength, nor enough to tarnish your beauty, but hard enough to make a point. He gripped your chin and laughed. He stooped down to lock eyes with you when you moaned. 

“You’re going to regret that, darling.” 

The threads wound around you began to snake down your legs, taking hold of your thighs. You gasped aloud when altogether they pulled to bring you standing. Doflamingo rose off the bed with you, and gently brushed the back of his hand against the cheek he had smacked. He took a moment to take in your beauty. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips pink and full. Lust in your eyes burned flames that brightened every expression you made. He gazed at you with adoration, and you could see the hunger in his stare behind the pink shades he donned. He was remarkable and terrifying and beautiful. He left you breathless. 

After what was barely a moment, a strong hand took hold of the knot on your back and tossed you face down onto the bed. Your face hit the soft mattress and before you could get your bearings, his hands found your waist and pulled your lower half up. You were bent over and fully on display for the man about to completely ruin you. You looked over your shoulder back at him as Doffy lined himself up to your entrance. You felt his tip slide up and down your slit, whimpering when he passed over your stimulated bundle of nerves. He allowed himself to just barely dip inside you, then back out and over your clit once more. With impressive restraint he continued this game as you wriggled against your restraints underneath him. 

You were a whining, whimpering mess. Your hair falling into your mouth as Doflamingo’s name escaped your lips. 

“Tell me, y/n. Tell me what you want.” 

“You…” You croaked, his hands gripping your sides when you tried to push him deeper. “All of you.”

“And why should I give such a petulant brat what you want, when you want it?” 

“Doffy…” You moaned when he dipped into your folds once more. “Please.”

“There’s the manners I taught you.” The bastard laughed. “Say it again for me, dear. Convince me.”

“Please, Doffy.” He deprived you of touch once more. “Please fuck me. Please let me make you cum.”

He pressed his entire length into you without pause or hesitation. You were dripping wet from your previous climax and his teasing that he bottomed out inside you with ease. You were full, and with every movement he made you could feel him stretching your walls to compensate for his impossible girth. You yelped, but every noise you made was muffled in the sheets he fucked you into. You had a complete lack of control and he was taking advantage of it. The grip in which he held onto you would without a doubt leave beautiful finger-shaped bruises by tomorrow. 

“You want to make me cum?” He snarled. “You first.”

Your moans filled the room, next to his breathy grunts that slipped out nearly every time you tightened around him. You knew you wouldn’t last like this. He took long, steady strokes only to slam you back down into the bed. The high he gave you was incredible. The lust you shared and the need you had for him was immeasurable. Doflamingo took your ass in both hands, spreading your swollen cheeks wide to watch his cock glide in and out of you. You took him expertly, and he admired your reddened and dripping lips. His thumb inched closer to your other hole only to tease you further. 

“This is how I like you.” Doflamingo slowed his pace, drawing circles with his thumb around your other entrance. You shivered at his touch and heat began to spread throughout your chest. “You think you’re so big, but look at you.”  He spat down onto you and slowly pushed inside, knuckle deep, and thrust his cock in its entirety back in at the same time. “Reduced to this.”

You clenched around him and screamed as you came undone. Your thighs shook and heat spread all throughout your body. You saw stars and gasped as he pulled your hair to bring you closer to him. 

“Yes, my dear. I want to hear you.” He growled into your ear as he fucked you mercilessly. His thumb rested inside you, all the while his powerful thrusts slapped against you. The wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of you was ever present under the expletives leaving your mouth. “Do as you wish. Make me cum.”

The binds he held you in vanished and your arms fell to your side. 

“Doffy... ” You sighed into the sheets, dragging your dripping pussy up and down his length. You bounced your ass up and down onto him, and Doflamingo moaned in relief. He slapped your abused ass playfully. You moaned at his touch. 

You pressed your hands against the mattress to test how much strength you had left. You carefully pushed your chest up and off the sheets and let his length fall out of you, turning around to face him. 

“Will you lay down for me?” You piqued his interest, and he raised an eyebrow as you turned yourself to face him. “Can I ride you?”

Doffy leaned down to press a kiss onto you. A bite tugged at your lower lip as he pulled away. When your eyes opened, you took in the sight before you. His rippling muscles were glistening with sweat. His throbbing member was deep red at the tip and bobbing up and down, clearly begging for release. 

“Please?” You looked up at him, and brought your fingers down to play with yourself as he considered. You looked like a goddess before him, and he would have been hard pressed to deny your desires. You sunk your fingertips into your wet folds and kept his gaze. 

“You make it impossible to say no.” He sighed against your lips. 

You pressed your clean fingertips against his chest to push him into laying on his back. His head landed softly on a pillow and he looked up at you curiously. Your eyes took him in once more before you crawled over to him. You let your hands travel down his chest and thighs, indulging yourself after being constrained for so long. You took his cock in your mouth with reckless abandon, earning you a soft moan from your partner. You had made him incredibly sensitive, and you felt him get harder in your mouth as you licked your essence from him. You rose and positioned your legs on either side of his hips. Doffy’s hands fondled your breasts and tugged at your nipples. You smiled softly as you lined yourself up with him. 

Slowly and with care, you lowered yourself onto him. You took his entire length, adjusting back to his size and settled for a moment with him deep inside you. You let out a slow sigh, and felt a sharp pinch at your chest. Doffy had clamped your nipples tight between his fingers, and thrust up, further into you. You ground into his actions, swirling your hips onto the man below you. He released your chest and brought a strong arm up to grip your throat. 

“Yes…” Doffy purred as he glared up at you. “Don’t disappoint me.”

You began with slow, tentative motions. You allowed his cock to glide up, almost all the way out until you shot back down. The blonde hairs on his lower stomach teased at your clit with every stroke. He held your neck stronger at every movement you made, making your voice crack into your moans. His breaths were heavy and veins were peeking at his temple. He wasn’t going to make it much longer. You quickened your pace and felt the muscles in his lower body tense at your ministrations. Doffy released your throat, and the noises he held back from you sung from your lips. He gripped your hips as they pushed further onto him, and Doflamingo sat up to hold you close. His arm reached around your back and gained a strong hold on your shoulder. The other wrapped around your lower back and he growled into your neck. He bit down hard, and thrust up into you. He continued to draw sinful noises out of you and the heat between your legs burned stronger. You rode him harder, faster. Chasing another climax that was building at your center. You lost control, every movement you made brought you closer and closer. You couldn’t stop, and his strokes against your inner walls pushed you further. You felt him harden within you, and you thrust him as deep as you could muster. He hit a spot in the back of you and you croaked his name. You clenched your legs around him and held him deep within you. The wave of pleasure that washed over you had you clawing at Doffy’s back as you held on for dear life. Just as you peaked, he shuddered beneath you. He let out a soft groan into your neck and fucked you with deep, long strokes. You felt his warm release and whimpered against him, already feeling light-headed. His cock slid out of you and rested on your belly, dripping with evidence of his own satisfaction. His hand on your shoulder found the back of your head and he held it with care. You shared a moment, panting and coming down from the high you had built together. Doffy’s chest and neck were red hot, and he held you close as you relaxed against him. He leaned down and kissed your cheek with the softest of lips. 

“My queen..” He spoke against you, and you met his lips with warm content, kissing him with all the gratefulness you could express with the simple gesture. 

“I missed you.” You whispered against him. He held you closer and kissed you once more. You watched a frown tug at the corners of his mouth. Doflamingo released you and you pushed back off of his lap. 

“Good. You’re staying.” 

You raised your brow at him in amusement, watching him as he rose from the bed. 

“Lonely?” You mused, joining him. You began to make your way to clean up before he grabbed your arm.

“I have an old friend coming.” He sighed and pinched his nose in frustration. “I need you here.”

“You’re worried.” You expressed your concern and turned to look up at him. Your hair tickled as it brushed against bare shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. You’ll know when I need you to.” You rolled your eyes when he turned away to grab the bottle of wine off the table. You stiffened at his sudden seriousness. 

“I’m here.” You accepted his coldness, despite the obvious front. “I’m here to do as you wish.” 

You crossed your arms around his stomach and held the king from behind as he poured two glasses of wine.

“Whether it’s this you want,” You softly kissed the curves of the muscles on his back. “Or those who dare defy you put in their place.” You paused before releasing the embrace. “I’m yours.” 

He faced you and offered you a glass. 

“You’d be wise not to forget it.” He locked his eyes with yours and again, you felt small. The beast before you was judging his prey with a studied gaze. 

“Doflamingo.” His name rolled off your tongue and an air of confidence lifted your shoulders. “If I were going to betray you,” you sipped at the dark red in your hands, “I wouldn’t put myself in such compromising positions.” 

This earned you a chuckle from your superior. 

“I am yours.” You restated, resting your glass on the table before leaving him to regain your decency. 

He watched the swaying of your hips and your hair cascading down across your back as you exited. The pride on his face visible to no one. The swelling of his heart rose though he continued to push it down.

No, my dear. I am yours. 

His mind betrayed him.  

[sylvermidnight]

Rusame’s Rival Waltz

I never intended this to be this long but I couldn’t stand splitting it into parts. So here’s a rusame one shot based on their relationship over time, and a waltz. Lovers to enemies to lovers.

1811 St. Petersburg Russia~

His hand grips his glass just a little too tightly. If he had not been wearing gloves one may have seen that his knuckles had gone as white as his face. Alfred F. Jones had never felt so out of place in all his life and he’d been in some odd situations. Parties like this just weren’t...His scene. They never had been despite how desperately Arthur had tried.

But with his first official ambassador having arrived in Russia two years prior, he didn’t have much of a choice. John Quincy Adams had managed to meet the Russian personification before him and that was just the slightest bit disrespectful. So here he stood, against the wall dressed in finery he felt much too uncomfortable in, swaying slightly to the sound of the music. He had to admit the Winter Palace was...More than he’d expected, almost intimidatingly so. As was his elusive host. He’d only met the man once for the customary greetings. He still didn’t have the man’s human name and he knew he was unlikely to get it. Despite how long and hard he’d fought he still wasn’t exactly an equal. Not yet.

Over the din of music and conversation he hears someone call his name, he takes a drink. He’d recognize that voice anywhere waking or sleeping. The British Empire had located him at last.

“America- Don’t ignore me boy I’m speaking to you!” His glass hits the table, almost shattering. He would have to remember to mind his strength, he’d been growing a lot lately. But something about his ex-caretaker’s presence burned him up inside. Angered him beyond reason. But just as he opens his mouth to speak, to give some snippy fiery remark, he feels a gentle arm wrap around his waist from behind and he’s pulled forward out into the center of the room.

The dance floor. Once the world stops spinning and confusion leaves him he understands that’s where he is and that someone had pulled him there. Which means- He looks up to discover his surprise partner and his heart stutters. Russia looks down at him with the strangest warmest smile. He’s amused clearly and something in Alfred feels offended yet intrigued. It’s so far from the belittling laughter and smiles of the others. His eyes despite being cold in color and nature appear warm in that moment.

“I assumed you could use the assistance.” The man clarifies placing his hand against his waist to lead him in a waltz. Alfred struggles here, used to leading, not being led. He nearly trips over his own feet but regains himself in enough time not to make a fool of them both. 

“I could have handled him. It’s just Britain. Nothing I haven’t experienced before.” He didn’t want to appear weak. Not in front of the man he wanted as his ally. Not in front of someone he was admittedly eager to impress. 

“That’s true, but I doubt you would have wanted to. With all kindness he can be quite a pain.” Before Alfred had time to think of a response he was being led in a spin and eventually an actual twirl and then all hope of furthering that conversation came to an end. He even began to enjoy himself just a little bit, and that was a first. He’d never really liked dancing before, he was clumsy and awkward. But this felt right...Perhaps even natural. And even though he knows he shouldn’t, that in their world it would be seen as disrespectful, he looked up and he smiled.

Perhaps that’s what did them both in. That smile, the gentle hand against Alfred’s waist tightening just so slightly. The way Russia’s eyes showed a pure form of awe and surprise, and the way Alfred’s shown with stars. When the smile was returned something was sealed between them. A mischievous look passed Russia’s eyes and though it doesn’t break the moment he decides now would be an excellent time to dip his partner just to feel his grip on him tighten in surprise. Seeing if he could shock that daring bravery right out of this little upstart of a nation. But he doesn’t, and when Alfred comes back up his grin has widened even further, assuring that yes, they were both quite entranced.

The night progresses in this fashion. Eventually the dance dissolves into something with a little more showmanship. Something Alfred claims is popular at his home, adding more dips and spins than perhaps either of them could keep up with. But with breathless laughter and warm smiles shared neither of them cared. It came to an end all too quickly, one of Alfred’s men coming to gently inform him they must leave that very night. The moment stirred but did not break as the young nation looked up at his host. A quiet confirmation. They would see each other again. They would experience yet again this purest form of happiness and they would vow to know each other better. They simply must.

And so before Alfred could slip away Russia pressed him close to his chest one last time to finish their dance. “Ivan Braginsky,” he says in the softest of tones. For Alfred’s ears only. “I thought you would be curious.”

A human name was a high honor. One of trust and respect. To have earned it in one night was not a small accomplishment. But Alfred simply smiles coyly and slips from his grasp. “Write to me. Then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

And he leaves Ivan there, with the image of stars and a million questions.

1955 Geneva Switzerland~

What was the point of all this? He didn’t even know. His head is pounding, his drink just isn’t strong enough. He needs to get out of here and find something stronger. Perhaps snag one of his allies on the way out to go with him. He didn’t really like hitting the bars alone; it made him feel pathetic. Alfred’s eyes scan the party lain out before him. It wasn’t anything special really. It didn’t hold a candle to anything they had held back in the day, but Switzerland had tried his best.

He had heard that Eisenhower and Khrushchev were going to attempt a civil meeting and he’d taken it upon himself to try and put this together as a celebration. Of what though? It wasn’t as if things were going to get better. Alfred had even insisted upon this to Eisenhower’s face. But the man didn’t listen. When had they stopped respecting him? And when had he pulled his flask from his pocket? And-

An all too familiar touch on his arm. Not gentle but forceful and pulling. He drops the flask but the metallic clang is hidden by the sound of the music and so are his cries of protest. Once steady on his feet he looks up into Ivan’s bright violet eyes. He’s probably drunk. But it doesn’t matter. So is Alfred. He sets his face into a grimace and once again tries to pull away again but Ivan is unrelenting in his silent insistence of a waltz. So Alfred goes along to get along. For now.

“What are you doing Braginsky you’re going to make a scene!” He hissed as the other twirls him around with the practiced ease of a lover. To distract him surely.

“What does it look like Jones? Is it a crime to wish a dance from you these days? Once upon a time I needn’t even ask.” That was true. But that was thin and this is now and America could not be seen being pulled around the dance floor by Russia which is why Alfred pulled away to swap their roles. If only for a moment.

“You know damn well why. I don’t even want to look at you let alone dance with you. You might spread something just by breathing on me.” He says aggressively dipping the man in his arms. He was lucky he was strong or that would have toppled them both. But he was older now and better on his feet. Or so he thought until Ivan came up and brought him into a lift that landed him distracted and once again being led.

“We both know that’s not true Солнце(1). If it was you wouldn’t be here now. You have the strength to walk away, and I the decency to if you truly asked it of me.” Alfred hated to admit he was right. Something in him felt alive again from the simplest contact. The rush of the music and the familiarity of the dance. And Ivan...He had missed him but he would never admit that to himself or anyone else.

And that’s why he decided he wasn’t going to make this easy on the other. Even without leading he pulled the Russian into dips and twirls. Thrusting all his weight and trust into the other. If Alfred fell they both would and in this state he was willing to risk his own reputation to bring him down too. Because he couldn’t stand this, this feeling. Like his heart was being torn from his chest. Like that first dance all those years ago soft and sweet but now forbidden and that longing turned him into some unrecognizable thing. Something he was so certain Ivan couldn’t love, and he was sure that’s why he had left. To bigger and better things leaving him behind.

The heat in their steps was obvious. But love also. It was clearly a battle, anyone looking could see that. But there was love there as well. Neither let the other fall and they blended together with well thought out practice and prediction. Neither actually hurt each other physically but they knew what they were during. Pouring accelerant on an open flame. Awakening and denying old feelings they knew had to be kept locked away and tearing them apart in the process. Funny. No one really realized this sort of destruction. No one really realized the state they were in. 

With a final dip the dance comes to an end and they stay there a moment catching their breath. Or perhaps reveling in this last moment in each other’s arms. Alfred closes his eyes and he can imagine a place centuries ago now. Warm and safe where the world wasn’t out to get him and love was a reality and not a fantasy. It was nice but it wasn’t real. So when he straightens his eyes are cold and though Ivan can still see the stars they seem so far away now. He worries he cannot reach them.

“Nice try Braginsky. But we both know this changes nothing.” His voice is cold but his heart strains. He will not leave for the bar. He will head to his hotel room alone and he will try to forget using any means he can find.

And Ivan just smiles “Not yet Милый(2). But perhaps soon. If we are truly lucky.”

Alfred walks away and he does not look back. If he looked back he would shatter and he feared he’d never be able to pick up the pieces again.

-----------------

1- Sunshine

2- Darling

[mgtmnk]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Gilbert Nightray & Vincent Nightray Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Uncomfortable Sibling Interactions, Canon Compliant, Mild Gore Language: English Words: 4896 Chapters: 1/1

Slowly Vincent reaches into the folds of his skirt, extracting a pair of scissors from between them. He makes a show of flaunting them to his brother, saying yes, these are the real deal, before conspicuously placing them on a cabinet behind him, lifting his open palms and showing them to his brother with a smile. “I’m unarmed.” A joke, probably, but Vincent’s sense of humor always struck Gil as rather tasteless.

Vincent helps Gil out after a problem when he moves rooms. Basically a Vincent character study from Gil's perspective when they're 14-15 and 16 respectively. Happy birthday gay little rat

NOT SHIP

Mirror under readmore

It’s been a couple hours now, and Gilbert’s arms still don’t hurt. Part of him wishes they did, that they had the decency to make his progress seem more tangible -- in the last two years he'd lived with Nightray, he'd gotten considerably stronger, used to associating pain with advancement. Yet despite having carried several boxes of considerable weight over a distance that he feels is nothing to scoff at, Gil’s arms don’t hurt in the slightest. It’s annoying.

A crash sounds behind him and he turns around, sees books scattered across the floor. His brother looks at him in a way that does not constitute an apology and Gil groans, sets the box he was carrying down, gets to work picking up what his little brother had dropped.

“God damn it, Vince,” he mutters, and Vincent laughs under his breath. Though Gil had insisted he do the moving on his own— the maids had offered, he didn’t want to trouble them and honestly, he liked the repetitiveness of the task— Vincent was even more insistent about helping him. He’d find it endearing, if Vincent weren’t fifteen and still small enough to bowl over in a stiff breeze and definitely well aware of this, making it the third time in the five trips they’d made that Gil is forced to stoop and pick up what Vincent failed to carry. On purpose, definitely, because when Gil glances up at him Vincent smirks like a cat who’s caught the canary. Gil makes the decision to not think about this comparison too hard.

“Brother’s a lot stronger than me,” Vincent says, and finally drops to his knees to clean up his own mess. “It still makes me sad to see him doing all this work on his own, though. I’d feel terrible to leave him by himself…”

The mess is cleaned up quickly, given that only a few books of Gil’s relatively sizable collection were dropped. That was one of the advantages of moving into Nightray— he’d never had much chance to do much reading on his own with Vessalius, given his daily duties, and he’d since discovered he was quite fond of it. About the only advantage, actually, with Vincent now clinging to his side, box in hand. He stands not an inch from his brother, their positions threatening collision.

“I know change is unpleasant… but, well, if nothing else, the room will be bigger.”

They round a corner. Gil scowls. “I don’t want a bigger room. I was perfectly content with things as they were.”

“But the room needed renovations… and brother’s an adult now, anyway. He’s even got women lining up to propose to him, doesn’t he?”

That is a subject Gil distinctly does not want to broach, so he doesn’t grace Vincent with an answer until they finally get to what is intended as his new room. It is certainly larger than his old one, with room enough for even a desk and shelves, unlike the child’s quarters he’d been living in previously. The bed was bigger to match, too, but this just made Gilbert more annoyed as they set down the boxes they had been carrying. Vincent’s had been books, but Gil carried the larger box containing personal possessions. Among those he had originally intended to pack his bedding, until Vincent pointed out that they wouldn’t fit on the new bed. Nightray has plenty of sheets to match any of their beds, sure, but Gil had gotten used to one particular set. He doesn’t want to have to get used to a new one.

Vincent sees him contemplating and laughs. “Still grieving those lost sheets?”

“I wish I were like you sometimes, able to fall asleep anywhere. I have to be dead tired to fall asleep anywhere that isn’t a bed.”

Gil actually falls asleep in places other than his bed quite often. He is frequently dead tired. Vincent definitely knows this, but doesn’t comment, to Gil’s relief. Instead he helps put away Gil’s things without comment or complaint, setting to work organizing his bookshelf without prompting. Though Gil’s tempted to watch him, make sure he doesn’t mess it up, he decides against it. Better to focus on his own task than get worked up over the possibility that Vincent will mess up an easy, inconsequential chore. Even if he gets it wrong, Gil sort of likes the process of putting away books.

“One more trip,” Gil sighs as the last thing he’d been carrying is finally stowed away. “Are you sure you won’t drop anything this time?”

“I won’t!”

It’s said so earnestly Gil almost believes it, even though he’d asked the same thing last time and got the same answer. He stands up from where he’d been crouching in front of a bedside table, stretches, lets his eyes drift to a window unobscured by curtains. It’s large, looking out to the garden, and he can see Elliot and Vanessa outside playing in the summer heat.

Vincent must have caught where he was staring. “Good thing our other brothers are out, hm?”

‘Other’ is pronounced with a fair bit of contempt, Gilbert thinks, but even that seems disingenuous. Their elder brothers probably hate Vincent even more than they hate him, for reasons Gil doesn’t understand, but Vincent acts like he hates them more for a joke than for the legitimate reasons he most certainly has. It sets Gil on edge even more than some of Vincent’s other eccentricities.

“Come on,” he mumbles and leaves the room, not having the check over his shoulder to know Vincent was trailing not a foot behind him. 

The last things they need to carry over are some of Gil’s old clothes and the biggest box of books. Given that the former would probably be lighter and thus easier to carry, Gilbert takes the latter. Wordlessly Vincent takes the box that remains, and when the two leave Gil’s old room it is finally left completely empty. Somehow, the thought of that poor old room— walls stripped bare, mattress left open to the elements, windows without curtains and the dresser empty of contents— somehow, the thought of it makes Gil the slightest bit sad, having no one to need it anymore. He resolves to not enter it again.

No further items are dropped on their last trek to Gil’s last room, Vincent remaining quiet the entire time in a way that was either eerie or pleasant; Gil wasn’t entirely sure. The boxes are deposited— Gil’s beside a bookshelf, Vincent’s on the bed. For a moment Gil opens his mouth to ask Vincent to help him sort out his clothes— some were definitely too small for him, Vincent could drop them off to a maid he meant to give them to for her son— but he remembered his brother’s habits around fabric and dropped the subject.

“I’m not going to touch brother’s things without permission...”

Gil narrows his eyes, annoyed more at how his brother seems to read his mind when he can’t understand him at all than at what Vincent was actually saying.

“Brother’s special... I don’t break his things unless he wants me to.”

“You don’t have your scissors?” Gil asks, because he has to. There never was an occasion when Vincent had damaged any of Gil’s belongings, now that Gil took the time to recall it, but he couldn’t help but be wary around him. It was only natural.

Slowly Vincent reaches into the folds of his skirt, extracting a pair of scissors from between them. He makes a show of flaunting them to his brother, saying yes, these are the real deal, before conspicuously placing them on a cabinet behind him, lifting his open palms and showing them to his brother with a smile. “I’m unarmed.”

A joke, probably, but Vincent’s sense of humor always struck Gil as rather tasteless. “Just…” he really should’ve sorted out which clothes he intended to discard before all of this, but there’s no changing the past. “Spread it all out on the bed, I’ll be able to pick out which ones are too small.”

If nothing else, Gil isn’t in the habit of keeping a lot of clothes, at least not for someone who is ostensibly a noble. He mostly likes cycling through the same few modest outfits every day until they get worn out, at which point he’ll usually repair them himself. Since arriving at Nightray he’d only gotten rid of a few old clothes too small for him, but he’d hit a growth spurt recently. Anyway, moving meant he’d have to reorganize his clothes, so he might as well deal with what he has to discard.

Little time passes for Vincent to do as he’s told, even making some initial efforts to sort the clothes into piles by side. “Oh... a lot of these look like they’d fit me.”

Gil shrugs as he climbs onto the bed, grimacing as he touches the sheets. They’re a different fabric from his old ones, and though he’s certainly worn clothes of worse material with little grievance, something about the thought of sleeping with them sets him on edge. “Then they’re too small for me. Put them in the discard pile.”

“Where are they going?”

“A maid. For her son.”

“Did brother promise them?”

With that Gil glances over questioningly, though he doesn’t really intend to. Vincent laughs.

“Brother’s always thinking of the help, isn’t he...”

“I used to be them. It’s hard not to sympathize. They’re a lot more tolerable than Nightray proper, anyway.”

“It wasn’t an insult... I think it’s sweet.”

The clothes are sorted through within a few minutes, Vincent passing no further comment, much to Gil’s relief. Having further things to sort out in his own room, he asks Vincent to drop off the clothes with the maid in question, giving her name and where he’s most likely to find her. Vincent nods, gathers the clothes in his arms, and runs off.

-

“Vince.”

It’s dinner. Away from the rest of the family, as usual. Aside from their adoptive siblings’ general hostility, Vincent has a habit of being asleep while the rest of the family eats, and Gil usually finds something to busy himself with so he has an excuse to be away. It had been a couple weeks since Gil made the room move, and he’s still not comfortable sleeping there. His head hurts.

“Hm? Oh... if brother wants me to eat his peppers, I’d be happy to.”

Gil flushes a bit, uncomfortable with the verbal acknowledgement of a ritual he regularly participates in. He pushes his plate towards Vincent sitting across from him and crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not about that.” He’d been avoiding the topic for about a week, but it was starting to eat at his sleep even more than the uncomfortable bed sheets, so he decided to bite the bullet. “The maid I told you to drop those clothes off to…”

“I have no idea what brother is referring to.”

Immediately Gil sucks in air through his teeth, covers his eyes with his hands, exhales, slams one fist against the table hard enough that the plate he’d given to Vincent jumps. “Vincent,” he groans, “why.”

A pause, Vincent looking to the side as a grin slowly crosses his face. “Well, I truly haven’t a clue what could’ve happened… but if I were to do such a thing… is it really that wrong for me to want some of Gil’s own…” he sighs, playing with his hair, closing his eyes. “You know, just to keep?”

The chair clatters to the ground behind him as Gil stands with enough force to knock it over. Vincent raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. “A joke!” he assures. “I was joking, brother. I promise, nothing strange has been done with your clothes. I asked the maid- her son is eighteen, Gil, and already far too large for a young teenager’s clothes.”

Was that true? It could’ve been. Gil couldn’t remember ever actually asking the age of the maid’s son, just hearing that she had one. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well,” and Vincent laughs for some reason. “I do have them, yes. I was planning… it was supposed to be a surprise for the winter holiday…”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s just amateur, and only for this purpose. I’ve been studying quilting... If brother wants me to give them to the maid anyway, I will...”

“No, it’s fine, they’re probably—” Gil doesn’t know why he wanted to say tainted, doesn’t even know what he thinks Vincent could’ve done to them in the two weeks he’d have them to warrant that word. “Just keep them.”

Vincent smiles, nods, and they finish eating in silence.

-

The subject doesn’t come up again until a couple weeks later, when out of nowhere Vincent presents Gil with his progress on the quilt. He holds it out, grabbing it by the corner with one hand, and Gil reluctantly sets his book down to look at what he’s being shown.

“I’ve only just begun it. Time prior I spent practicing. Before I went too far, I wanted to ask brother if it felt alright.”

He’s only stitched a few squares together, not nearly large enough to take up the space of Gil’s bed, and while he obviously intended a pattern, Gil can’t figure out what it is. Gil runs his hands over the surface— he thinks Vincent must have remembered which shirts he was particularly inclined to wearing, because all of the fabric feels nice to the touch. Reluctantly he takes the swatch in hand, is surprised to find the back already pressed. When he pulls the edges of the piece apart, the stitching holds, not a single gap or give to be found.

“It’s nice,” he says, looking down at the unfinished blanket in hand. “You did this yourself?”

“I wouldn’t involve anyone else in it.”

“Huh.”

When he’d first heard about the project, Gil was almost tempted to stop Vincent. There were very few things Gil was better at than his younger brother— chores and handicrafts among them, Vincent apparently not having the patience for them. That Vincent may take sewing from him too crossed his mind, but Gil had set the thought aside. Ultimately, he doesn’t see it necessary for an older brother to be better at things than the younger. Gil is already long used to having other people be smarter than him, to the point he doesn’t really mind it anymore.

After a minute or so of inspecting the swatch Vincent had given him, Gil finally looked at his younger brother. In the time he took to test the sample he had spotted a couple mistakes where Vincent had run over the same piece too many times, made the seam a little too thin, but it really is impressive for someone’s first time. Their eyes meet, and Vincent spent half a second expressionless, as though analyzing Gil. Then he beams, smiled in a manner that actually went to the eyes, and Gil almost thought it was sweet.

“Then, is a higher loft OK?”

“I’d prefer it. I like heavy blankets.”

“That’s what I thought...”

Vincent asks him a few more questions about preferences, saying he was glad the secret got out since he’d rather make something perfect for Gil, taking the sample back and clutching it tight to his chest with both hands. The smile Vincent has never falters, and, being one of the only ones Gil had ever seen from him that wasn’t unsettling, Gil actually takes some relief from this. Soon the conversation ends, and Vincent dismisses himself, saying he has a conversation to have with their father. Gil doesn’t pry and simply watches as Vincent leaves.

-

Sleeping has gotten easier for Gil as the months begin to grow colder, moving out of summer into fall. Though his old resentment for his sheets remains, they no longer torment him. At this point his frustration is mostly a grudge, and sometimes he thinks about taking a page from Vincent’s book and cutting them all up for the hell of it. The thought is quickly dismissed as bizarrely cruel, and Gil chastises himself for letting his thoughts grow so morbid.

“Has training caused brother grief?”

It’s an unexpected question, one which arrives on another of their solitary dinners, and Gil isn’t sure how to answer it. “Why do you ask?”

“There’s been a sort of strange disposition about Gil lately. He doesn’t seem acclimated to things.”

Though Gil takes offense, he knows it’s true. Vincent is always much better at stomaching the sort of things they’re asked to do, doesn’t seem to mind the prospect of violence or the reality of blood. Once Gil had asked if Vincent ever regretted not being able to go to an actual school, which Vincent simply laughed at.

“I’m not sure I can do it. K- kill people, I mean.”

Vincent hums. “I wouldn’t worry about it…”

“It’s just… I can’t… I’m… I think I’m weak.”

“Gil can do it because he’s weak.”

Silence follows for the next couple minutes as Gil tries to think of an answer. He supposes it makes sense, that Vincent thinks he’s weak. There is not a single time he can remember being strong in front of him. The statement was strange, though. Gil thinks it must take a very strong person to kill someone else.

Eventually, Vincent interrupts his attempts to reply. “I meant to ask about something, actually…”

He gets up, runs off leaving an unfinished plate— Vincent was averse to vegetables, and Gil almost feels superior about this before remembering the hypocrisy of it. When Vincent gets back, he’ll give him an earful about table manners. Until then, Gil can hug his knees to his chest and think about how horribly everything he’s going to attempt in the next year is most definitely going to go.

Two or three minutes go by before Vincent’s return, at which point Gil had forgotten about chastising him and nearly forgotten he’d left in the first place. He only stops brooding with the sound of Vincent setting aside their plates and silverware, making space on the table to spread out the quilt.

“It’s not done…”

That much was obvious, given that there was neither back nor loft to it. The pattern was obvious now, though— an arrangement of angular crosses that Gil hadn’t seen before. On reflex he spends the next few minutes looking it over, testing the seams, checking how it’s pressed— Vincent had gotten significantly better over the course of making the quilt, and Gil could guess what order each part had been sewn together in. 

“It’s good. Big enough, too. Are you gonna have enough fabric to finish this?” “That’s been taken care of.”

“How long did you spend on it?”

Vincent shrugs, smirking. “I just do it in my free time.”

“If you can actually manage this, it’ll be great.” It doesn’t occur to Gil to comment on the ambiguity of Vincent’s statement. Instead he runs his hands over the front, marvelling a bit at how Vincent managed to cobble enough good fabric together so that it was still pleasant to the touch.

-

Obligations had occupied Gil, such that he hadn’t seen Vincent all day. His family thought the two were spending too much time together, which was fair— Vincent was clingy, far past the point of being annoying. The excuse to get away from him for a while was one that was well received, and so he’d taken to his duties without complaint.

Having finished his labor for the day, Gilbert heads back to his room, now comfortable with the full arrival of autumn. He intended to get some rest, though it was rare for him to nap or sleep early. It had been a good day, though, and Gil was feeling a bit hedonistic. Maybe he’ll punish himself tomorrow, but for now, a little indulgence won’t hurt.

As soon as he turns the corner he hears familiar jeering and immediately retraces his steps, hiding behind a wall. The sounds weren’t getting closer, which meant his older brothers hadn’t spotted him. Carefully he looks over the corner, trying to get a grasp of where they are and if he can avoid them. The two of them— Ernest and Claude, older than them by a decade— both gathered around something they’ve cornered to a wall. Vincent. Obviously.

Gil presses his back to the wall he was hiding behind. Going through the entire house to avoid them was an option, but unpleasant. He wasn’t sure if he could go to the adjacent hallway without attracting their attention. If he listened to what they were saying, maybe he could get an idea of where they intended to go. Something about that option seemed impossible, though. He wouldn’t be able to understand their words even if he wanted to— or so said his convictions.

Again he looked over the corner, thinking alright, let’s just dash over, they’re too caught up in whatever’s going on with Vincent— don’t look at him. He’s not making any noise, it’s not that hard to ignore him. Yet against his best efforts Gil still pauses to stare at his younger brother by blood and miraculously, probably accidentally, they make eye contact. Vincent probably couldn’t fight off a boy his own age, much less an adult. Gil sees him mouth something indecipherable and then he steps out into the hallway, yelling something he doesn’t understand even as he says it.

The fight ends quickly, if one can call it that. Vincent grabs his hand as soon as there’s an opening and pulls Gil away, running into Gil’s room and locking the door. Smartest option, definitely— Gil is bigger than Vincent, sure, but still doesn’t compare to an adult. Their elder brothers won’t follow them, probably, being the only people on Earth who don’t seem that interested in teasing Gil. He takes a few steps into the room as Vincent leans against the door, looking down. From where he stands Gil can barely see some blood run down his brother’s chin— their brothers must have busted his lip at some point during the scuffle.

Impulsively he approaches, though he does not reach a hand out. Vincent looks up, looks straight at him. His younger brother’s eyes narrow and he seems to snarl before covering his face with one hand, fumbling for the door handle with the other, and he runs off without another word to Gil.

Later that evening the two find each other again, Vincent showing not a shred of humility despite the beating he had so recently taken. The wound on his lip had already formed a scab, at least, and when asked Vincent said it didn’t hurt.

“I don’t get it. Why do they hate you so much?”

“Oh…” Vincent says, a little chuckle following the sound as though the question was itself funny. “That’s pretty easy. I said I’d kill them.”

It’s said so plainly that Gil doesn’t register it at first, thinking he misheard, thinking Vincent was joking.

“I said I hadn’t seen how human blood looks against my scissors, yet. I get bored of fabric, you know… anyone would. I wanted to hold them down, see how their skin would cut open beneath them, see if I could make them get everywhere if I managed to cut their bodies right…” he exhales contentedly. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

Odd eyes meet Gil’s expectantly, Vincent sighing like he’d come out of a nice dream, reaching a reluctant hand towards Gil. In a panic Gil slaps it away, takes a frightened step back. Vincent’s expression shows no recoil, no widening of eyes in shock. He smiles such as to expose his teeth.

“It’s getting late,” his little brother says. “I’m going to bed. Sweet dreams, brother.”

-

Since then, Vincent’s been clinging to Gil’s side even more closely than before. A distinct change in disposition followed, though not one Gil could place exactly. He’d try halfheartedly encouraging Vincent to try a hobby, to clean his room for once, to maybe eat more than half of any given meal or to get some sun. Vincent would brush him off, saying those things were tiring, that he was happy so long as he could stay with Gil.

The winter holiday was nearly upon them, only a couple weeks away. Elliot would be back from school then, and Gil would have someone to talk to that wasn’t his horrifying blood sibling, even if Elliot was only a child. Vincent’s present hadn’t even crossed his mind until his younger brother brought it up again.

“I’m nearly done,” he explains, carrying the fully assembled quilt in his arms. “Can you test the weight of it?”

Slowly Gilbert takes the blanket, letting it rest over his forearms, feeling how it bears down against him. It’s warm, and soft, and nice to look at, and as he checks over it yet again he can see the amount of effort Vincent must have put into it— even someone with experience would’ve taken weeks to make it. Though the gesture is reluctant, Gil’s a bit too earnestly grateful to hide a smile.

“You did a really good job, Vince.”

Vincent perks up immediately, beaming. “It’s not too thick or anything?”

“No, it’s— um, it’s perfect like this.” Gil hands the blanket back to him, and when Vincent grabs it their fingers don’t touch, but it’s close. “I’m glad to see you invested in something for once.”

“Oh.”

Vincent pauses as Gil lets the blanket fall from his hand, suddenly hesitant to gather it back up.

“Is that so…”

His younger brother smiles, looking down at the fabric in hand.

-

The winter holiday was upon them. Elliot had come back home from boarding school, and though most of his time was occupied by his blood siblings, he had made time to visit Gilbert as well. Gil hadn’t seen Vincent for most of the day— busy with tasks related to his own entrance into society, having turned fifteen. With not much to do outside and his chores all finished, Gil had taken to reading in the empty dining room while his adoptive siblings had some bonding time without him, taking comfort in the warm fireplace beside him.

It had been a good day, even with the usual conflicts with his adoptive siblings about how he was supposedly being a bad influence on Elliot. Everything they complained about— the sudden contempt for authority, the constant why-asking— seemed much more likely to be Vincent’s fault. Gil personally doesn’t care what values Elliot has; he’s just fond of his company.

The fireplace’s crackle as it dies is soothing, having lost its strength from when it was lit at the start of dinner. The whole family was supposed to be there, Gil and Vincent included, but Vincent must have slept through it. Not that Gilbert particularly cared— he ended up having to eat all of his vegetables, but he could stomach it. Darkness had fallen, the moon high in the sky, and Gil took a break from reading to look outside the window and contemplate.

“Gil…?”

He jumps at the sound of his blood brother’s voice, then feels quite ashamed of this. Maybe he didn’t mind Vincent being smarter than him, but being afraid of one’s little brother was a different matter entirely. “Ah— ah, Vincent— you’re… here.”

Chuckling softly, Vincent stumbles over to his elder brother, hands behind his back. “Brother! I’m happy to have come in time... I’ve missed Gil very much…”

There’s no way Vincent isn’t being conspicuous about whatever he’s hiding on purpose. He’s too smart for that. “What do you have?” Gilbert asks with a groan.

“Did brother forget his present?

“My…” Gil stops to think for a moment. “Oh, that! You, um—” and Gil suddenly realizes he forgot to get Vincent anything. “You really didn’t have to…”

“Yeah, I know.” Vincent grins, takes a few steps back from Gil as the elder brother stands up. “But obviously I’d do it, if it were for Gil’s sake…”

Vincent’s being coy. “Listen— I, I’m sorry for not getting you anything.”

“Don’t worry about it. If anything, I’m glad. I just wanted to see the look on brother’s face when I showed him.”

“Um—”

And just as Gil is about to stutter another heartless apology Vincent throws the bundle he had been hiding behind his back directly into the fire, staring at Gil the entire time as months of work begins to burn away. Reflexively Gil dives to retrieve it, try to salvage what he can, but Vincent stops him, grabs his wrist before he can stick it into the fire.

“Why—”

Gil can’t get anything out further as nausea collects in his stomach for some reason, because he doesn’t feel bad for Vincent, because Vincent did this, but he doesn’t understand why he would and it makes him sick and he can hear what Vincent had worked so hard for burn in front of him and he can’t do anything about it as Vincent leans forward, wraps his arms around his chest, laughs delightedly as he stares at Gil’s expression contorted in confused despair.

“See, now? I love Gil more than anyone. Just that look is more than enough.”

[animetrashlord-007]

M.I;; Chapter Six

Word Count;; 1.7k

Genre;; Fluff, Suggestive, Eventual Smut, Slowburn

Pairing;; Oikawa x Ushijima

Side Pairing;; Kuroo x Sugawara

Summary;;

Them boys got beef.

Published;; 08.03.18

Notes;; 

My Masterlist

Mutual Interests Masterlist

   “What the hell happened?” Suga gasped as soon as the door opened, his concern increasing his impatience.

   Ushijima yawned and rubbed his temples, providing a small shrug as his only response before ushering the small setter inside. Sprawled across the bed on the left side, Oikawa pretended not to notice the others as he glared at the wall with his back toward Kuroo. Kuroo was sound asleep on the other side of the room, his mouth hanging open with a content smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

   “Oikawa-san, what happened?” Suga frowned, taking a step toward Oikawa before halting. The brunet didn’t acknowledge him in the slightest.

   Taking a deep breath to calm himself, irritation seeping into his blood from being ignored (and so obviously - the audacity!), Suga walked over to Kuroo. With the back of his hand placed on the blocker’s forehead, Suga checked his temperature. It was no hotter than usual. Shaking his shoulder, he tried to wake Kuroo but to no avail.

   “Kuroo-san, please, I’m worried.”

   After what felt like an eternity, he gave up and faced Ushijima instead. The ace had slumped down on a chair in the left corner of the room, his tired, blank eyes staring out the window. He didn’t seem to notice Suga waving at him. Dark rings encircled the eyes he was fighting to keep open. He was battling off his need for sleep tooth and nail, and every so often his head would bob as he regained consciousness just as quickly as he lost it.

   “Wakatoshi-san, what happened?” No response. “Are they okay?” A nod. “Can you explain what happened?” No response. “Literally anyone can say anything… Why are you all ignoring me?”

   More silence plagued Suga. No one would look him in the eye. His anxiety started to ebb away as his irritation morphed into anger. It was his concern that led him here and not a single one of them cared. His impatience swelled until he couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing a water bottle from the nightstand, he poured the contents onto an unsuspecting Kuroo before throwing the empty bottle at Oikawa.

   “I ASKED YOU A DAMN QUESTION!”

   Eyes snapping open, alarm written plain as day across his features, Kuroo was the first to react. Sitting up straight, he stared at Suga as one would a ghost; complete disbelief with a side of utter terror swirled in his eyes. His usual messy, black hair flopped down and stuck to his face. His bottom lip quivered. Wiping off some of the water with the bed’s linen, he was in state of total shock and couldn’t process what was happening.

   On the other side of the room, Oikawa yelped in indignation. The bottle had hit its target square on, bouncing off the back of Oikawa’s head before falling to the ground. His waves swayed in a quick blur of colour as he swivelled around, eyes narrowed and accusatory. Jabbing a finger toward Suga, his voice rose with every passing word.

   “What the hell was that for?!”

   “Take a guess, you idiot!”

   Tension engulfed the room as the two setters glared at one another, neither willing to yield. Ushijima raised his hand, words of protest on his lips, but decided the energy required to calm either party down was too great and chose to close his eyes and rest instead. Oikawa folded his arms in front of his chest, his eyes trained on Suga’s, but didn’t say anything. The room was silent and still, frozen in time, as everyone waited for the first strike. Taking a step forward, ice-cold fury dripping from his every movement, Suga opened his mouth to speak, every filter torn off with only brutal honesty left behind, he was going to let loose and give them a piece of his mind-

   “I’m soaked!” Kuroo whined, snapping out of his stupor but remaining indifferent to the argument happening mere feets away. He stumbled out of the sterile white bed, knocking over the metal table that stood beside it. It clattered onto the cement floor, two distinct, cold and unforgiving materials clashing against each other. The sound reverberated throughout the entire room, slipping past the ajar door and drifting out the window. A roll of bandages unraveled, rolling across the floor until it hit Suga’s foot.

   It served as a big enough distraction to gain the attention of the setters, both now focusing their scornful gazes on Kuroo. After a quick stretch, Kuroo flashed his usual lopsided grin before collapsing back onto the bed. Oikawa rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air, grumbling something along the lines of ‘predictable’.

   Before they had a chance to resume their stare down, the door flung open. A small but stern woman entered, her voice shrill as she turned to each of the boys in turn, punctuating her words with a pointed glare.

   “This is the infirmary, keep your voice down!”

   Suga bowed to the nurse and, unlike his comrade’s mumbled ‘sorries’, his tone was sincere when he said, “We apologise, ma’am.”

   Once the nurse left (after a lengthy lecture about respecting other’s privacy and rest, and instructing them to clean up their mess before they were discharged), all smiles were dropped. Ice gripped the room once more as Suga spoke, his lips pulled into a thin line, tapping his left foot at a rapid pace. “Whatever. Rest for now, but I’ll be back and you best be ready to talk.”

   “Wow, so scary, Mr. Refreshing!” Oikawa pulled a pillow to his chest and pouted, avoiding direct eye contact with the seething setter and his almost tangible aura of rage.

   With that, the door slammed behind Suga as he stormed out of the room, abandoning the helpless situation inside in hope of regaining his sanity. Regardless of how the other’s felt, he considered each to be his friend. When he received the text from Ushijima that a fight had broken out during the night, he wasted no time rushing to check on them. And for what? Suga sighed.

   Making his way to the scene of the crime, he entered the shared dorm of Kuroo and Ushijima. Bed sheets, torn pillows, textbooks and pieces of wood littered the ground. The nightstand that once stood beside Ushijima’s bed was destroyed, presumably after someone fell on it. The shelves on Kuroo’s side of the room had collapsed and while the majority of his chemistry books were on the bed, some had made their way onto the floor and their pages were now crumpled. Suga sighed again.

   It wasn’t his room so he had no reason to clean up after those ungrateful buffoons, but he knew that Ushijima would do the same for him and he’d hate to see that giant try to balance tidying up, repair work, and smoothing over the argument that had led to all this in the first place. An argument Suga didn’t have a scrap of knowledge about. Because no one had the decency to say anything. Not even Ushijima. His knuckles paled under the force of his grip as he picked up the remnants of the nightstand. Sighing with a bit more force, Suga continued his self-appointed project.

   He piled the textbooks onto the bed. He set aside the nightstand and shelves, deciding he didn’t like Kuroo or Ushijima enough to trouble himself with trying to fix their furniture (he wasn’t a handyman, afterall). He stripped both beds down to the mattress and tossed the bedding into the corner before grabbing the spares and refitting the sheets. Grabbing the sewing kit from Ushijima’s emergency supplies, he stuffed as much of the loose feathers and downy he could back into the pillows before sewing them shut and replacing their covers with fresh, clean ones. Once the room was in a somewhat presentable state, he took the bedding to the school’s laundry room and started a load, sending a text to Ushijima with the machine’s number and the approximate time it would finish. Brushing his hands together while trying to shake off his exhaustion, Suga sighed.

   Even though his body was tired from the hard work, his mind was still racing. With his project completed and his mind free of distractions once more, the residual anger from his earlier outburst began to gain traction, growing as he wandered through the campus grounds. How hard would it have been to just say, ‘hey, don’t worry Koushi, we’re fine. We’re just dumb as all hell’? He ran through multiple scenarios in his head, all of which would have been more considerate of his legitimate concerns for their safety and wellbeing, as he stalked down a lush, green hill. When he snapped out of his daze, he was standing on a small, rugged path next to a pond that he didn’t recognise.

   Where the hell am I?

   Suga sighed in resignation.

   There was only one person who could bring him clarity at this point, only one person that could offer him sensibility. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and searched through his contacts. Upon finding Daichi’s number, he shot him a brief text then sat down on the embankment. Minutes trickled by as he waited for a response. It wasn’t until he had given up and allowed his mind to go blank, troubled sleep threatening to swallow him whole, that his phone rang. Sitting up straight and confirming the caller to be Daichi, he answered with a cute greeting, shuddering at how strained he sounded.

   “Sorry, I was studying and didn’t see your message.”

   “Ah, Sawamura. You didn’t have to call. If you’re busy, just text me when you have time.”

   “No, no! You’re the same as always, Koushi. It’s been too long since we’ve talked. Besides, I could really use a break right now.” Suga smiled. Warmth enveloped him as he listened to his long-time friend, fond memories embedded within his voice that pulled Suga back to the summer days spent playing volleyball in the school’s gym, the door open and a cool breeze caressing his heated skin while he set another toss for Asahi as Daichi cheered them on. “How has school been treating you?”

   Daichi reminded him of home, secure and welcoming and permanent, something Suga didn’t realise he was missing, let alone that he needed.

   With a sigh of relief, Suga relaxed and laid back down on the lawn, watching the clouds as they crawled across the vibrant blue sky, all of his worries dissipating as he spoke, “Funny you should ask, that’s exactly why I contacted you…”

[fireblaze5555]

Fire Away: Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Well I WIsh I Could Say That I’ve Never Been Here Before

Also on Ao3:  Fire Away: Chapter 9

Super emotional sexy times in this chapter.

--

The next day found them in an unfamiliar diner across town, Frank and Karen on one side, Matt and Foggy on the other. Karen fidgeted with her straw wrapper, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. When she glanced up she noticed Frank and Matt were having a ‘staring’ contest of sorts, both scowling deeply at the other. Foggy was trying to act casual but she could see tension in every inch of his face.  

Letting out a long suffering sigh, Karen snapped her hand down on the table bringing all eyes to her. “Listen, if you two want to make moon eyes at each other the entire time, that’s fine, Foggy and I can get another booth and discuss the situation.”

Matt had the decency to look a bit sheepish and Frank gave her what she was coming to understand as an apologetic look before he sat back in the booth to rest his arm behind her on the seat. When she looked over to Foggy, he was doing his best not to laugh, a smirk tugging at his lips. If it weren’t for his unease around Frank he would be outright laughing.

Matt cleared his throat, “You said you knew who was behind the attempts on your life?”

Karen opened her mouth to respond but Frank snorted before taking a quick drink of his coffee. His voice was casual but he was clearly antagonizing, “Yeah, Murdock, it’s someone who should be in the ground instead of a jail cell.”

Squeezing Frank’s knee under the table, Karen turned a withering glare at him. There was no apologetic look this time, he just shrugged and took a longer drink of his coffee. Matt, for his part, didn’t respond, just clenched his hands around his own coffee and kept his attention on Karen.

It was Foggy’s turn to jump in, his eyes wide with disbelief, “How is that even possible? He’s under constant surveillance and his contact is limited. Brett has been checking in personally to ensure that he isn’t getting special treatment like last time.”

Another sigh, this one defeated, escaped Karen before she answered, “Because he still has enough money and power to get around the justice system. We’ve slowed him down putting him behind bars but I think it was more just an inconvenience for him. What we have found over the past couple of weeks is that he was using me more as a diversion to distract from what he was trying to accomplish.” Karen launched into the particulars of what they had found, being sure to lower her voice whenever the waitress would return or other patrons strolled by. When she mentioned Vanessa being the outside link, Matt let out a quiet curse.

“Okay, so what is our plan then?” Foggy asked. Karen gave him an affectionate smile, he was all business now, whatever discomfort he had disintegrated when there was work to do.

“Well, for the legal side of things, the plan is giving you all of the information and evidence we have found and see what avenues you can find to legally sink her. However,” Karen drags her bottom lip through her teeth, “Some of the information we obtained...less legally? So you may not be able to use all of it in court if we get to that.” Matt scowled while Foggy raised an amused eyebrow at her.

“Ms. Page, we leave you to your own devices and suddenly you are an investigative reporter, PI and a hacker? I’m so impressed at how you keep gaining these valuable skills!” Foggy smiled teasingly at her while Karen shook her head at him, smiling herself.

“Don’t forget Counselor, she also has the ability to find trouble anywhere she goes and an incredible talent with sarcasm.” Frank spoke up, taking a bite of toast before smirking at Karen as she gaped at him.

Foggy let out a choking sound, sucking his cheeks in to hold in his laughter, “Man, he does know you Karen.” Matt was even smirking through his scowl.

“Shut up, all of you.” she grumbled but she couldn’t help but smirk, “ Anyway , that is the legal side of it. The less than legal side of it, we are going to go to Vanessa’s estate and I am going to talk to her about lifting the contract on my life.”

Matt tilted his head slightly, ‘When you say ‘we’...” his voice was the slightest bit strained with a hint of antagonism.

“Frank and I. You as well if you want to as long as you agree to go in as a team.” She did her best to ignore Matt’s tone. To his credit, Frank kept quiet and just sipped at his coffee but Karen could see everything he wanted to say, clear on his face.

“I really don’t think it’s necessary for Frank to be involved any longer. We don’t really need a murderer present to have a discussion with someone.” The antagonism was strong now.

Karen and Foggy simultaneously put their faces in their hands while Frank let out a scoff.

“Christ, you really are an alter boy all the way, huh?” Frank gave a cutting smile as he shook his head and then leaned forward to rest his forearms on the table, closer to Matt, “You can take your sanctimonious bullshit and shove it right up your ass, Red. They are after Karen, she’s the one that has done all the investigation, that means she gets to decide who is on her team. Not you. And if I have to choose between killing a shit bag and keeping Karen alive, you bet your ass I’ll take them out.”

“Yeah, well, she’s always had clouded judgement when it comes to you so maybe it shouldn’t be her call.” As soon as he finished speaking, Matt’s face scrunched up with regret. Foggy was looking at his friend, aghast, and Frank had sat back and was chuckling lowly. Karen was glaring so icily at Matt she was surprised he hadn’t started shivering.

Karen smacked Frank in the stomach with the back of her hand causing him to grunt and hunch over slightly before she leaned in towards Matt across from her. “I really hope I didn’t just hear you say that Matt because if we are going to talk about clouded judgement I can give you a whole list of shitty calls you have made.”

“Karen-”

“And for the record, this is why I didn’t come to you. Now, I’m going to be mature enough to pretend you didn’t just say that and get back to the plan. So you can keep your patronizing bullshit to yourself and just listen, got it?” Her voice brokered no argument and Matt, very smartly, just nodded.

Foggy looked between Frank, Matt and Karen before heaving a deep sigh, “Karen, not to agree too much with the idiot next to me but I don’t like the idea of being part of a plan where murder is an option.”

Frank clicked his tongue but didn’t say anything as Karen glared at him once more. “I know Foggy.” She paused to smile at the waitress as she dropped off Frank’s eggs and bacon and her own food of yogurt and fruit. She saw Frank eyeballing her plate but ignored him to respond to Foggy, “We have already discussed that. It looks like most of the personnel at her estate is a hired security company, not criminals so they won’t be killed.”

Matt gave a derisive snort that resulted in Foggy elbowing him sharply in the ribs before saying, “And what about the ones that are criminals?”

“As long as they don’t threaten Karen, I promise to be on my best behaviour Counselor.” Frank looked at her plate pointedly. “Is that all you got to eat?”

“Yeah, I’m not that hungry.” She murmured before she turned back to Foggy, “I’m going to do everything I can to ensure we talk to Vanessa with no casualties.” As she spoke, Karen saw Frank move two pieces of his bacon to her plate and bit her cheek to keep from smiling. When she turned her attention back to Foggy, he had been watching as well, there was a look of bewilderment on his face, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing.

“Well, I guess that is all I can really ask at this point, I’m just glad you are back and safe. It is getting so boring at the office without you.” Foggy said.

Matt looked offended as Karen laughed, “Well, I hope to be back in the office by next week at the latest. I can only imagine what kind of disarray you left my desk in.”

They chatted over their food, mostly catching Karen up on things she’d had missed while she was gone, cases that had been completed, new cases on the docket and any ridiculous gossip that had been picked up at Josie’s. Matt jumped in every once in a while but he and Frank stayed silent for most of the meal after that.

Once the food was gone and everything had been discussed, they all stood to pay for their meals and go off in various directions to begin preparing for their respective parts of the plan. As she moved to the register, Karen felt Frank’s hand at the small of her back, a steady, reassuring weight as they waited for the person in front of them to finish up. She wondered if she would always be so aware of him, if every little touch would always feel so important and monumental. She hoped so.

Foggy took off first with a promise to dig into the files Karen planned on sending over as soon as he received them but first he had a coffee date with Marci that he couldn’t miss. With a tight hug for Karen and respectful nod to Frank he turned and made his way to the closest taxi.

Karen gave Matt a quick hug and promised to call later with an address and started to turn away but he grabbed her elbow before she got far. She could feel Frank tense behind her but he didn’t say anything. She looked expectantly at Matt.

“Karen, look, I-,” he sounded strained for a second and took a moment to collect his thoughts, “I’m sorry about earlier alright? I know you are capable of taking care of yourself and it was a real asshole thing for me to say.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Ya think?” She relented however, she knew it wasn’t an easy thing for Matt to be around Frank, especially since he could probably tell with his fancy superpowers that there was something going on between them. “I know, Matt, it’s okay. Just, try to have a little more faith in me, okay?”

Giving the hand he had on her arm a reassuring squeeze she attempted to leave again but Matt kept his grip firm. Oh for Chrissake, what now? She squared her shoulders, forcing him to drop his hand, and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to say what was obviously on his mind.

“Why don’t you come stay with me or Foggy?” Karen started to protest but he pressed on, “You said you were staying in some warehouse, that can’t be comfortable. We can finalize everything at my place and you’ll still be safe.”

“No.”

Matt looked at a loss, like the only real option was going with him and the fact that she refused was beyond comprehension.

“Why?” he asked.

Karen chewed on her bottom lip as she studied him for a second. She had the urge to shake him which was not unusual with Matt Murdock but she settled for a quiet, “You know why, Matt.” before turning to walk back to where Frank was waiting. She didn’t have to look at Frank’s face to know he was looking smugly at Matt and rolled her eyes when he slung an arm over her shoulder as they walked away. I’m going to hurt them both.

She gave him a sweet smile and then promptly pinched his side, causing him to step away quickly with a quiet curse.

“What the hell was that for?” he asked, rubbing the spot. He tried to sound angry but she heard the underlying amusement in his tone.

“You know why, Frank.”

They spent the day going over details and making sure they didn’t miss anything important. Karen had forwarded her files over to Foggy and had answered a couple calls from him for her input on clarifying some finer points.

Karen was pulled from her hundredth time of scanning the folder she put together by Frank beckoning to her.

“Hey, come over here for a sec.” He waved her over with one hand while the other was digging around in a container that appeared to be full of tactical gear. Pushing away from her computer with a long stretch, she made her way over to where he stood and watched him pull out a couple of bulletproof vests.

She raised an eyebrow at him but he just shrugged and stepped in front of her with one of them. He strapped her in with ease and went over the garment critically, checking how it fit and laid on her frame and said, “I’ll occasionally acquire them after finishing a job. I wanted to see if any of these fit you or if I am going to need to find one before tomorrow night.”

Karen looked down at herself as he tugged and shifted the garment and said skeptically, “Is this really necessary?”

Frank stopped what he was doing, two fingers tucked into the vest at her chest and gaped at her disbelievingly.

“Alright, alright it was just a question.” She gave a small laugh and let him maneuver her around to take the vest off.

He apparently wasn’t satisfied with the fit of that one because he tossed it back into the container before grabbing another and starting the process again. “To answer that question, you wouldn’t be going into that place without one. Maybe the guys working there aren’t criminals but they are there to do a job. If they see us as a threat, which I’m betting they will, they will probably take some shots so you need to have protection.”

He focused fully on the task at hand and seemed more pleased with the fit of this vest but she could see the worry creeping into his eyes, no doubt imagining all of the scenarios in which the plan could go wrong. Karen caught his hand checking the straps at her side and held it between hers, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.

“It’s going to be fine. We are just going there to talk, it’s not like we are facing down a psycho with a bomb or escaping through elevator shafts or anything.” Her gallows humor had the desired effect for a second, his lips quirking a bit at the corners.

It faded quickly though, his eyes going serious and grim, his voice solemn, “I know how quickly things can go wrong, normal one second and batshit crazy the next. People there with you one second and then gone the next.”

Karen’s heart gave a painful lurch and she felt her eyes start to prickle so she stepped into him quickly, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Thinking of everything Frank had lost always made her weepy and she didn’t want him to have to deal with her tears when he was the one who should be upset. She felt his arms settle around her shoulders and his head rested against hers and for a moment they just swayed together gently.

After a moment though, Frank stepped back, placed a soft kiss to her forehead and began to pull off the vest.

“This one fits pretty well, I think it will work well for tomorrow.” He placed it next to his, the emblazoned skull stark against the black material, which lay atop his selected arsenal for tomorrow. “Have you heard from the counselor? Got anything he can use?”

Karen sighed, “Yeah, there are a few things he would be able to use against her, some illegal trading and some potentially forfeit art but nothing as serious as I would like but it may be enough. At least to get them off my case.”

Frank nodded and she saw him thinking about his next question. Here we go. And she wasn’t disappointed.

“Have you heard from Murdock?”

“No”

“Have you contacted Murdock?”

“ No .” she answered a bit more curtly.

Frank held up a placating hand, “If he is going to be part of the plan, he needs to know where we are going.”

He was right of course but she was still a little annoyed at both of them. “I’ll text him the address and where we intend to meet. You sure you two are okay to work together? You seem like you would rather glare and bitch at each other.”

Frank scoffed, “Red’s a pain in the ass but he isn’t a bad ally to have on your side. If he could just stop being so preachy, we would get along just fine.”

Karen shook her head with a small smile, “You’re not wrong, I suppose. On the flip side, I’m sure he thinks if you were less murdery you’d get along just fine.”

He gave her a wry grin, “I guess neither one of us are going to get what we want, huh?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, walking away from him to go back to her task, “No, I guess not.”

-----

Frank watched Karen go back to her desk to pour over everything again. Nothing will have changed since the last time she looked but he knew it was a good distraction for her. In the meantime he needed to make sure he had all the gear he needed and was ready himself. He still didn’t like the idea that not only was Karen going into the den of the enemy but he had to also attempt to get her in and out without any fatalities. As much as Murdock annoyed him, Frank was glad he would be there as well, it would allow him to focus more fully on Karen’s safety.

Sitting across the room, Frank began running through his mental checklist, he wanted to have time to hunt down any needed supplies before go-time. This was a top priority mission with very precious cargo and he was not going to fuck it up. Every mission or war he had waged over the past several months was nowhere near as important as the one he was preparing for, failure was not an option.

He’d need to pick up some more ammo for his .45, realistically he probably had enough but he’d rather be over prepared. Frank glanced up when he heard a thoughtful noise from Karen, a detail catching her attention. He watched as she buried long graceful fingers into the pale spun gold of her hair with one hand, while the other skimmed the document, occasionally tapping out a rhythm on the table. For a second he was transported to the previous night, those long locks sliding between his fingers while she was on her knees in front of him. Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip as she worked and Frank couldn’t help but watch the slide of her tongue when she wet her lips.

When he realized he was outright staring at her he shook his head and went back to the task at hand. For God’s sake he was acting like a horny, head over heels teenager. First that little dominance stunt he pulled with Murdock, huffing out a laugh he rubbed the spot Karen had pinched him, and now he was ogling her while she worked. It was amazing how fast the switch was flipped in his mind of him thinking of Karen as his. He really needed to get a grip. Frank still wasn’t sure he made the right call, agreeing to give a relationship a shot. He was still dangerous to be around and the thought of him bringing even more danger to Karen’s life made him nauseous. The thing was, it was obvious that Karen would be in trouble at some point whether he was there or not and the thought of him not being there to help her also made him nauseous.

Maybe it was a bad idea….but god he wanted it. He could pretend he was alright with the solitude and all the nights alone but that delusion was quickly fading. The past couple of weeks, waking up with someone in bed next to him again, was like a breath of fresh air he didn’t know he needed. Like an ache in his joints he wasn’t aware of until they were gone. Even cramped on the little cot with Karen who was just as tall as him and threw a mean elbow in her sleep, was the most comfortable he had been...well, since Maria. The feeling of waking up to Karen’s softness and warmth, her smile and morning quips, was like a drug and the mere thought of going back to the way things were had him feeling like he was going through withdrawals.

It didn’t really do any good to debate it with himself at this point, he had told Karen he would give it a shot and wouldn’t lie to her. So they would take care of the issue at hand and then he would man up and keep his word. However, if it looked like he was bringing too much danger into her life, he was gone, no questions asked. Well, probably anyway. He had a feeling Karen Page was becoming a major guiding force in his life and he may not have a choice on if he goes or stays.

Shaking his head, Frank ran through the remainder of his list and decided to grab some more ammo for Karen’s .380 while he was at it. He set everything back in place and stood, rolling his shoulders back to work out the knots and headed over to grab a jacket and pull on his boots. When he stood from lacing them up he noticed Karen was watching him.

“I’m going to go pick up some ammo and dinner. Anything sound good to you?”

She hummed, eyeing him with a hunger that had nothing to do with food and he felt desire hit him hard in the gut. Before he could begin to make his way across the room though, she gave him a coy smile, her voice mischievous, “Japanese sounds good. Some sushi? Maybe Katsudon if they have it, yakisoba if they don’t?”

Raising an eyebrow at her, he turned to pull the jacket on. “Japanese it is. I’ll be back soon, I’ll text you before I come in so you know it’s me. Keep an eye on the cameras and call me if anything looks out of the ordinary.” She nodded along as he spoke, turning back to her work but he said her name softly, it brought her attention back to him quickly. Frank gave a little smirk, “Stop being a stubborn ass and text Murdock the information.”

He stepped around the closest object to dodge the pencil that had been lobbed at him and made his way to the exit. He didn’t care one way or the other if Murdock actually accompanied them, it would be helpful sure, but they would be fine without him. However, he knew it was important to Karen to keep her friends in the loop, a pact they had made she didn’t want to break.

The air was chilly when he stepped out into the dusk, heading in the direction of the subway, he needed to go a ways to get to the shop he was wanting. He walked quickly, eyeing his surroundings casually and jumping on the train just before the doors closed. It took about 15 minutes to get to his stop and he emerged onto the street about another 10 minutes walk from his destination.

Frank was nearly there when he felt the prickle on the back of his neck so he stepped into the next alleyway and kept his hand ready to reach for the gun at his hip. However, only one person he knows could land that softly out of nowhere so he wasn’t surprised when he turned to see Murdock frowning at him from behind his mask.

“Evening, Red.”

Murdock gave a small nod and a quiet, “Frank.” Before resuming his pensive silence.

Frank waited another minute before shifting impatiently, “Did ya have somethin’ you wanted to say or….? I kinda have some errands to run and a hungry private investigator waiting for me. I have a fair idea of how grumpy she can be when hungry and would like to avoid that if I can.”

Matt’s face turned a bit more sour, his stance stiffening even more. “She shouldn’t be there. She should be somewhere safe. Somewhere away from you.”

Letting out a long suffering sigh, Frank tucked his hands deep into his pockets and balled them into fists. “You’re not entirely wrong Red but the fact of the matter is that is where she decided to be and you of all people should know that telling her to do something else would not go well.”

The other man gave a begrudging nod but didn’t look put at ease. When he spoke again he had his lawyer facade on, trying to dig for information, “What exactly is your relationship with Karen?”

Frank went still, his eyes narrowing at the other man and said nothing. It wasn’t any of Murdock’s business and Frank was pretty sure he knew already.

“I could smell you on her, at the diner.” His voice was accusatory.

“Well that is officially the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me, Red. Also the creepiest.” A very immature, alpha male part of his brain swelled with pride at the knowledge that there was no mistaking that Karen had chosen to be with him. He nearly chuckled when he thought of how quickly she would put him in his place if she knew he was thinking like that. “What does it matter to you anyway?”

“You know why it matters Frank. You are still killing, making enemies and starting wars. Karen deserves better than that. Better than you.”

“You’re not wrong there either.” Frank closed the distance between them, bringing them toe to toe, his voice dropped low, a mix of building anger and antagonism, “Is that the only reason, Murdock?  I remember seeing you two back then, holding hands, standing close. How she watched you with so much admiration in the courtroom, when you showed up, that is. Now, she doesn’t want to stay with you, despite being in danger. So is it really that you want to protect Karen or is it that your ego can’t take the fact that you royally fucked up and lost a beautiful, intelligent, brave and loyal woman? To a murderer no less. ”

Matt snarled muscles tensing as though preparing for a fight but Frank’s phone chimed alerting him to a message. His adrenaline spiked, brain always going to the worst case scenario first and Matt must have picked up on it because he took half a step back. Pulling the phone out of his pocket, Frank relaxed when he read the message.

“Shrimp Shumai as well, please. Don’t forget chopsticks, I don’t trust the silverware you have here not to give me tetanus.”

Frank shook his head with a smirk, tapping back a quick ‘Yes, Ma’am’, before tucking the phone in his pocket again. Matt’s head was tilted to listen and his features had relaxed from anger and disgust to mild annoyance and disbelief.

“I don’t deserve her, Murdock, you’re right about that. The problem is, I’ve pushed her away time and time again and we just keep endin’ up back in each other’s space. I’ll never argue with you that Karen Page is too good for me but she asked me to give this a chance and goddamn it, I owe it to her to try. I know I’m one lucky motherfucker that she chose me of all people, you don’t have to tell me.”

Matt looked downright defeated, “You love her.” It wasn’t a question.

Clicking his tongue and stepping around the other man, Frank walked back towards the main sidewalk, “I ain’t even talked to her about that Red so I’ll be damned if I talk to you about it. Check your phone, she should be sending you the information for tomorrow night.” With that, he stepped around the corner and walked the remaining few blocks to the gun store. He did love Karen, but now he was wondering if love encompassed everything he felt for her. Frank was starting to feel complete in a way he hadn’t since he still had his family. That large piece of his life would always be missing, god he missed them every second of every day, but Karen was becoming the glue that held the rest of his pieces together. His air when he was suffocating. The stones in his foundation when it started to crumble. Love was only a part of the things he felt for Karen Page.

It was another hour and a half before he had the ammo and food in hand, heading back to the safe house. He texted Karen to alert her that he would be there soon and when he stepped through the door and into the living area of the building, she was right where he had left her.

“Welcome back, took you long enough.” She barely turned from the papers but he saw the teasing lilt to her lips anyway.

“The lady wanted shrimp shumai, the only place to get shumai in this city is Mei’s so I had to go a little out of my way to get it.” Frank set the food down at the table and plucked the container with the shumai out of the bag. He walked over to Karen, popping the lid open to waft the delicious smelling steam in her direction, enticing her to leave the desk.

Karen let out an appreciative groan at the smell, pushing her chair back and following closely behind him. She settled down at the table and pointed at him accusingly with the chopsticks Frank handed her, “I know of at least three places to get shumai and I know at least one of them was pretty close to where you were going.”

“Yes but the only place you should get shumai from is Mei’s.” His voice was deep with conviction when he pointed his chopsticks right back at her.

Karen barked out a quick laugh, “Unbelievable, a burger snob, a coffee snob AND a Japanese cuisine snob. The surprises keep coming.” However, when she took a bite of the first morsel, her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head with pleasure. She snapped her eyes to his quickly to see if he caught her, which of course he did, with a knowing, smug smirk. “Alright, you win this one Castle.”

Frank thought about mentioning the fact he ran into Murdock but she would want to know what they discussed and he wasn’t sure he was ready to go down the rabbit hole just yet. So instead they talked about their favorite places for asian food and occasionally discussed details of tomorrow’s mission. Thankfully she mentioned she had texted the information to Murdock so he didn’t have to bring it up again.

Once they were full and leftovers were packed away in the small fridge, it was time to call David and ensure that everything on his end was set as well. The phone rang a couple of times before he answered.

“ Hello friends! Ready to talk super spy stuff and breaking and entering?” His voice was cheerful and already grating on Frank’s nerves.

“Cut the shit, David. You got everything you need?”

“ I want to talk to Karen. She’s nicer than you.” There was an unmistakable pout in his voice.

“David…” Frank growled. Karen hid a laugh behind her hand. He gave her a pleading ‘don’t encourage him’ look and turned his attention back to the phone.

“... And prettier. Fine. Yes, everything is in order. I’ll walk you through setting up the comm pieces tonight so all you have to do tomorrow is turn them on and double check the frequency. There haven’t been any changes to the personnel schedule and the layout of the house hasn’t changed over the past two days.”

Over the next hour they activated and synced up their comms, checking for any bugs, and outlined the time frame they hoped to maintain for getting in and out.

“ Hey, uh, I noticed you only requested the two ear pieces, was there a change of plan? Daredevil no longer assisting?”

“No change of plan. He won’t need an earpiece, he will be able to hear just fine.” Karen’s voice was one of begrudging acceptance.

“ Okay then, well, then I think we’ve done everything we can for today. I’ll be in touch tomorrow at 10. Now, I need to go to dinner or I have the real potential of sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Without preamble, the line went dead, the screen of the phone flashing the call time for just a moment before going dark.

Karen gave a little snort, “What an interesting change of events, usually it’s you hanging up on him.”

“I guess the prospect of sleeping on the couch is more motivating than getting on my damn nerves.” Frank said gruffly as he put the phone on charge next to the comm equipment. When he looked back at Karen, she had an unreadable look on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“If he bothers you that much, why do you keep in touch? I know he is an incredible hacker but you are crafty and would be able to figure something else out.” Karen asked, leaning on the table and regarding him curiously.

Frank gave a deep sigh. David did endlessly wear on his nerves but he cared for the man and his family. “David just...doesn’t know when to shut up. That being said, he’s a good guy. He’s reliable and a good person.” When he looked over there was a smug look on Karen’s face and he felt like he just walked into a trap.

“So...you care about him? Behind all the mean words and mask of indifference he’s your friend.” She looked so proud of herself, blue eyes sparkling and her head tilted as she watched him.

Frank shook his head turning away from her, “ Christ . You're just as bad as he is. I’m takin’ a shower.” He could feel her eyes following him as he grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. She wasn’t wrong, he did care about David and his family. Very much in fact, but he wasn’t going to admit it out loud. It could make it back to David and Frank would never have peace again.

The hot water was doing wonders for his knotted muscles. Preparing for tomorrow had left him anxious and processing his feelings for Karen furthered that anxiety because he knew how easy it was for things to go wrong. He could lose her tomorrow and it had him on edge all day. It would be his luck that he would finally accept what he feels for Karen, just for it to be taken away immediately. If it were just him going in he would be unaffected, if he got injured or killed it will have been worth it to keep her safe. But Karen was going to be with him, just as close to danger as he would be.

The shifty plumbing gave a groan and sputtered a quick deluge of ice water over him before going back to hot so he finished washing off quickly before he got another rude surprise.

He found as he stepped out of the shower he was more tired than he thought, his muscles finally loosened a bit so he didn’t feel quite so much like a spring that was wound too tight. However, as he tossed his towel over the curtain rod of the shower, Frank gave a quiet curse as his brain started sprinting down the same roads it had been running all day. Just that quick he felt his shoulders drawing back up towards his ears, muscles coiling and ready to fight. Christ he couldn’t wait for this to be over so he could be the normal amount of anxious over Karen’s well being. Throwing on some boxer briefs and low slung sweatpants he made to leave the cramped room.

A small cloud of steam followed him out of the bathroom before Frank started toward the cot. Karen was already laid down with one of his books open in her hand as she sprawled over their makeshift bed. Suddenly, Frank felt like he had been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer and his coiled muscles were prepared for an entirely new action.

Karen had grabbed one of his shirts to wear to bed, something that would have been enough to turn him on in general but due to their similar height the shirt just barely brushed the tops of her thighs. Frank’s gaze traveled from the tips of her toes up her impossibly long legs and fixated on the spot where the shirt had ridden up, exposing a hip bone where the thin black strap of her underwear contrasted exquisitely with her creamy skin. He could just glimpse the curve of her perfectly shaped ass the way she was laying but it was enough to spark something in him. Frank was suddenly a man starved. Hyperfocus that he tends to save for the battlefield is now fixated on the woman just across the room from him to the point everything else blurs and she is the only thing in focus.

Karen must feel his gaze on her because she lowers the book a fraction to meet his eyes. He sees her breath catch and her eyes widen when their gazes lock. Carefully she sets the book aside, her eyes leaving his to slowly drag down his body. Frank felt his temperature spike when he watched her hungrily take him in, her pupils blowing wide and her bottom lip unconsciously pulling between her teeth. It amazed him how expressive Karen was with just that bottom lip.

“I, um, ran out of comfortable sleeping clothes so I borrowed one of your shirts. I hope that is okay?” Her voice was small, uncertain. If Frank were more stable at the moment, he would feel guilty that she would feel so unsure about taking what she needed from him. Of course he didn’t mind, in fact, he would encourage it any chance he got.

When he didn’t answer, Karen looked even more unsure, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have presumed. I can grab one of my old-” She began to wrap long fingers around the hem as though she were going to pull the shirt off.

“Don’t. Move.” The words came out commanding, a simmering heat in his voice that was deep and full of gravel, his desire filling the words with a thousand promises. Karen froze at the order and when she drew that damned bottom lip between her teeth again and he saw the full body shiver of her reacting to him, Frank couldn’t stop himself from crossing the room. He moved steadily, long, methodical strides that had him at the foot of the cot quickly.

From this new vantage point he could see the pretty blush starting across her cheeks and down her neck to disappear under the shirt at her collarbone. She was perfection. Slowly, he placed a knee on the bottom corner of the bed, Karen watching his every move with rapt attention.

Another full body shiver ran through her when he caressed her ankles with hands he could no longer keep idle. There was a growl that he belatedly realized came from him before he was bent over, dragging teeth over the exposed flesh of her hip, the breathy noise Karen released spurring his actions. Frank’s hands slid up the smooth backs of her thighs that now bracketed his chest until he had two glorious handfuls of her ass.

“ Frank.” Fuck, the way she said his name. She had a way of putting everything into those five letters, all breathy want and desire. He was so hard it almost hurt, the need to be inside her so strong Frank was almost delirious from it. He snapped his eyes up to hers from his spot at her hip, where he continued to drag his tongue along her skin, nipping and sucking at her where he saw fit. He followed her panty line, nudging the shirt out of the way as he went. Karen’s eyes never left his but the air caught in her chest when his hands slid around to grip her underwear as he continued to cover her skin with pink marks.

He could smell her and god, she smelled sweet. Frank let out a small sound of need and began tugging away the barrier between them. He had reached her other hipbone, nipping the soft skin there before sitting back to fully remove her underwear and then she was gloriously bare to him, only his shirt bunched up around her midsection. He took a moment to take her in, lips glistening with arousal and a blush spreading over her inner thighs. It was his turn to pull his bottom lip through his teeth, taking a moment to decide where he wanted to start. Leaning down again, Frank tucked his arms under Karen’s thighs, wrapping them around the outside so his hands were at her hips to get a good grip and tugged her roughly to the edge of the cot.

She let out a little yelp in surprise and when Frank looked at her again, the shirt had rucked up around her chest when he scooted her down. Her graceful arms were above her head where they had settled after her startled movement. She was a fucking sight. Frank knelt on the cold concrete floor and settled her legs over his shoulders, moving slowly and deliberately, his entire focus on devouring the woman in front of him.

Giving an appreciative groan, Frank leaned in, dragging a kiss over Karen’s inner thigh before switching to the other leg. Next, he ran his tongue up the crease of her leg, mere centimeters from his destination. Karen’s hips were beginning to sway towards his mouth, rising and falling with each tempting swipe of his mischievous tongue.

As he was laving a slow kiss to the top of her mound Karen gave a quiet curse causing Frank to glance up at her with a devastating smirk.

“Something wrong Ma’am?” his voice was impossibly deep and rough.

She reacted like his voice was a physical touch, closing her eyes and shivering before she looked at him again, the blue of her irises dark with her need, voice husky with restrained desire. “If you don’t touch me soon Frank I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

His answering chuckle was rich and dark and it vibrated through every spot their bodies were connected. What Karen didn’t know was he was torturing himself as much as he was her, every fiber of his being screaming to do more, to drive her crazy, make her scream for him. Frank finally relented, giving a slow languid lick to her center, just barely parting her folds. Both let out a groan and before Frank could convince himself to keep the pace slow, he was drinking her in like he’d not had water in years.

There was longer any finesse to his movements, lewd noises filling the room as he licked and sucked at her, letting out appreciative growls and grunts as she moved under him. Fuck she tasted good, her breathless moans and little curses, her beautiful lips saying his name when he pressed just right, all driving him mad with need. When Frank opened his eyes he let out a long low groan at the sight. Karen was gripping the blankets above her head with one hand so tight her knuckles were white, her eyes screwed shut while her mouth was open and panting. Her other hand had pushed the shirt over her breasts and was tweaking a nipple in time with the firm strokes of his tongue.

It was all too much, he needed to be in her, and soon. Never taking his eyes off of her, Frank closed his full lips over her clit and gave it a hard suck. Karen’s back arched off the cot prettily and her breathing stalled. Lifting her hips slightly he did again before quickly dragging a firm tongue over repeatedly. It only took two more strokes before she went completely rigid, a keening moan the only sound she was able to make.

Frank softened his ministrations, licking at her softly until her hand snaked into his hair to tug him away gently. He pulled just enough to nip her thigh before he rested his cheek there and looked up at her. She was gloriously disheveled, chest still rising rapidly with each breath, lips parted and eyes glassy and distant as she came down from her high.

Slowly, Karen came back to herself and she gave him a devastating little smile, her voice throaty and sated, though he saw the hunger building in her gaze again, “Goddamn, Castle. You’ve been hiding your finer skill sets from me.”

He gave a quiet laugh, trying to not let his pride show too much on his face, “Happy to be of service, ma’am.”

Slowly he stood, tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants as he did, Karen watching the movement with intense focus. Frank slid pants and underwear off in a smooth movement before he started to crawl after Karen as she scooted back up the cot. Working together, his shirt was peeled up and over her head to be discarded somewhere on the floor.T hey didn’t have much room on the small bed but neither seemed to mind as he settled between her thighs and their lips met. The kiss was slow and dragging, tongues sliding together deliciously and little gasps escaping when they drew back long enough to change their angles.

Frank’s arm had traveled up to bury a large hand in her hair, something he found was quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do, his forearm bracing the side of her face as he continued to ravage her mouth. Slowly, he began to grind his cock against her core, dragging it through her folds torturously. Her hips met him at every thrust and finally, finally , he let himself sink into her.

All he could do for a moment was rest his forehead to hers, his hips stilling when he sank to the hilt, tightening his grip in her hair when she groaned and nipped at his chin. Being inside Karen was intoxicating and Frank was dizzy with pleasure that coursed through his system. He was so fucking lost on her, there was no way he could ever recover.

Frank leaned his head back enough to watch her eyes as he slowly pulled almost completely out of her before unhurriedly sliding back into place. Her gaze never left his, though her eyes were hooded, and he saw raw emotion staring back at him. For a moment it was overwhelming so Frank focused on the leisurely push and pull of his hips, his chest tight with everything he felt. They continued like that for several moments, quiet gasps and moans punctuating the easy rhythm that Frank set. Occasionally he would break eye contact to lick and suck at her neck, Karen dragging her hands up his back to hook over his shoulders, nipping at whatever skin was presented to her, a bicep, shoulder, the underside of his jaw. He could feel her starting to tense under him, her body straining towards release. He was working steadily towards his own orgasm, the burning pleasure spreading down his spine.

When Frank pulled back to look her in the eyes again the breath stilled in his chest. There was a trail of silent tears seeping from Karen’s eyes as she looked back at him. The hand in her hair dropped to her cheek to swipe the tears away tenderly. He hated to see her cry but it made him feel better to know she was feeling just as intensely as he was and when he spoke his voice was wrecked with the struggle to keep his own emotions in check, “What do you need?”

“Just...” she let out a shuddering breath and brought her hands to the back of his head, sliding blunt nails over his scalp, “Just don’t let go.”

A hungry desperate noise escaped from the back of his throat before he descended on her mouth. The kiss was slow but frantic, a desperation filling both of them. The hand on Karen’s cheek dropped to the side of her neck and the arm that propped him over her buried fingers into her silken hair. Frank’s thrusts sped up but they were still deliberate, grinding into her at the end of each stroke. That’s how they both came apart, her hands at the back of his head and neck, him not far behind with his own hands buried in her hair. Both of them holding on with both hands. Karen came, gasping his name in between quiet sobs and Frank came with a shuddering moan, pressing her name and kisses into the delicate skin of her temple.

For a moment they both were still, Frank was trying desperately to recover his composure and he felt Karen trying to do the same. When he did lean back again, swiping a gentle hand over her forehead to move damp hair out of her face she gave him a watery smile and he couldn’t help but return it.

Sniffing quietly, her smile turned sheepish, “I promise I’m not usually a crier during sex. I uh...just got a little overwhelmed, I think.”

Frank huffed out a little laugh, stroking a thumb over her cheekbone but before he could think of something to say, her hand came up to rest on his cheek, her eyes on him with a singular focus that wouldn’t allow him to look away.

“I love you, Frank Castle.” Karen’s voice was quiet and sincere, her eyes were watery once again but her gaze dared him to refute her.

Frank felt everything around him spin and then go completely still all at once before he drew in a quick breath and suddenly his chest was light, like a band that had been wrapped there just snapped. He was still terrified at the prospect of being loved, of loving again but looking at her, daring him to deny her, he felt like it might be worth it.

“I love you too, Karen Page.” Rough and low, the words felt so natural he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t said them before.

Just like that, the bravado left her and tears were escaping the corners of Karen’s eyes again, a smile so sweet on her lips he ached just looking at her. He leaned down to give her a tender kiss, her lips trembling lightly under his. Tsking, Frank rolled gently to the side, pulling her into his chest, banding protective arms around her, “You keep crying like that, Page, and you’re going to give me a complex.”

She gave a little laugh, thick with tears and swiped at her cheeks, “Sorry, Frank, I’ll try to keep the tears to a minimum next time. Promise.”

Humming, he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead.They lay quietly like that for awhile, both awake and lost in their own thoughts. Karen was running absent minded fingers over the smooth planes of his chest while his thumb ran soothing circles over her shoulder. Eventually he felt her relaxing against him, her breathing turning deep and even. Frank could feel his own eyes falling shut, heavy as lead as he listened to her breathe. He wanted to think a bit more, run the plan through his head again before giving in to sleep, think about the monumental words Karen and he had just spoken to one another but before he could try he was snoring quietly against her forehead and neither of them moved until morning.

[elysianrey]

tell me things you’ve never said out loud

[part 3 of it’s a slow cinnamon summer. read part 1. read part 2]

(a/n: okay...here it is. the final installment of this little series. thanks for joining me on this crazy ride these past few days! i’m not sure when i’ll get another chance to write for fun, but hopefully i will be nipped by the plot bunnies again soon. Anne and Gil finally get a resolution to this tension. And Gilbert is shirtless again... Enjoy!! xoxo Content T+)

Almost a week passed before Anne saw him again. 

It was not so much by choice, at least not to Anne, but rather they were needed for other responsibilities around their respective households. Matthew had caught a late summer cold, which led to Anne tending to his needs, while Marilla cared for little Delphine at the Blythe-Lacroix farm. When Anne wasn’t checking in on Matthew, she was out in the fields with Jerry and his brothers, who offered their aid upon catching word of Matthew’s sickness. The hard labor of weeding out the bad crops or nasty pests allowed Anne to direct her mind onto something other than the single topic it would revolve back to as she laid in her bed each night. Even the exhaustion from the day’s activities was not enough to weary her brain into a dreamless state of sleep which she desperately craved. 

For her dreams were where she slipped back into that sweet moment in the garden, or worse, entered new fantasies so vivid and lifelike, Anne would suddenly awake with a gasp, sweat beading on her forehead and along fair skin. She dared not tell a single soul about any of those dreams.

His lingering presence had intertwined itself so deeply into her being that she knew it was fruitless to try an escape it’s captive grip. Otherwise, she would be denying an integral piece of herself, as terrifying as the thought was to her. 

Marilla woke her before dawn on Saturday morning with the news that she would be baking and cooking most of the day for the church picnic tomorrow. She was quite beside herself because with watching over Delphine the whole week, she had completely forgotten the important event. 

“No worries, Marilla. I will take care of precious Delly today,” Anne reassured her comfortingly, her heart twinging anxiously at the prospect of the boy she was going to inevitably see. She needed to clear the air between them and make things right. 

Marilla let out a grateful sigh, “Oh bless you, Anne. For all that you have done the past days,” she replied, her arms drawing the girl into a hug. “Now off you go to get dressed. Bash mentioned that he and Gilbert were going to be up early to start pruning some of the apple trees in the orchard.”

Anne nodded, a suppressed smile on her lips as she turned on her heel to dress herself, which did not go unnoticed by Marilla. 

“Make sure Gilbert does not to overwork himself,” she called from the kitchen below as Anne hurriedly traipsed up the stairs.

“Will do!”

+++++

Anne gave the door of the Blythe-Lacroix home a gentle knock and waited patiently for an answer, rather hoping it would be a sleepy-eyed, dark-haired boy. Instead she was received by a groggy-looking Bash, who held a cup of steaming hot coffee in one hand and a fussy baby in the other. 

“Good morning, Anne,” he greeted, motioning for her to enter, and pushing the door shut behind them with his shoulder. “It’s nice of you to come.” His attention turned toward the squirming bundle in the crook of his arm. “Shhhhh--there, there Delly. Papa will be back for you soon. Your auntie Anne is here to spend some time with you now,” he cooed, rocking her softly and taking a sip of his coffee.

The redhead couldn’t contain the fond smile that broke over face at the endearing title Bash had dubbed after the countless days she had spent with them upon Mary’s passing and the consuming grief that latched on to Sebastian’s being. Although he was not quite the person she remembered before his beloved returned to her heavenly home in the sky, he was beginning to finally settle into a different type of normal. 

Anne stretched out her arms to take the baby, and Bash handed her off. “It is always a treat to spend time with this princess of yours,” she remarked lovingly, looking at Delphine with a sense of delight. 

She followed Bash into the kitchen, holding the infant on her hip, and observing him as he set his cup down carefully. “Blythe is out in the orchard already, crazy fool,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. Anne tried her best to keep her face of coolness upon the comment. 

“I’ll tell you Anne, the boy has been working himself to the bone lately. Can’t help but think something’s troubling him, but he dodges giving me a proper answer anytime I ask him about it. You wouldn’t happen to know what’s gotten him quieter than a church mouse, would you?”

A fresh wave of guilt overcame her as she bit down on her lip. “Uhhh...no...no clue,” she stuttered quickly, cursing herself for the unconvincing reply. She turned to begin making a warm bottle for Delphine as she searched for something more believable to add. “Maybe he’s worried about Queen’s?” she offered, picking up a glass bottle with one hand and setting it on the table. “I know I am.” This was true. It was a matter of weeks before Marilla and Matthew would be dropping her off at the school in Charlottetown and the remembrance of this fact made her heart ache in melancholy. 

Several beats of silence passed between them before she glanced over at him. “Hmm…’suppose you could have a point,” was all he said, his eyes wearing an expression of curiosity and his tone full of doubt. Anne had a feeling he could see straight through her deceit. “Well I best be going out to the orchard. We’ll be coming in later for some lunch. See you my Delly Welly!”

“Say ‘Bye Papa’,” she replied with a grin, holding up Delphine’s hand in a waving motion. Bash returned the wave with one of his own and then turned around to exit through the back door, Anne’s nerves rattling almost as loudly as the darn thing when he shut it closed. 

She sighed a breath of relief, turning back to finish her job with the baby’s bottle. His words had not been of a comfort to her in the slightest. The fault for Gilbert’s reserved behavior was entirely her doing, and to think, it could have been avoided altogether if she was not such a dunce when romantic feelings were involved. For an individual who spent a majority of her lifetime envisioning love and devising hundreds of stories filled with romantic dialogue and gestures, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert’s naivety toward navigating it in real-life was mystifying. 

The redhead spent the rest of the morning, reading stories, singing songs, and watching Delphine crawl around the house, constantly having to keep an eye on her since the little girl had a tendency to put everything she found in her mouth. By the time the afternoon rolled around, the baby seemed to have worn herself out, and Anne sighed in contentment when she fell fast asleep in her basket. 

Anne leaned her head on the wooden bench next to the baby’s basket and closed her eyes, intending only to keep them shut for a brief moment. Working in the field the day before and waking up early that morning had taken a toll on her. Not to mention the restless fits of sleep she experienced every night since Josie’s party. She would only rest for a few minutes longer…

+++++

When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was Delphine was gone. Anne jolted upright, her eyes scanning the floor around her, assuming she must have crawled right out of her basket. How long had she slept for? Muttering curses at herself under her breath, she pulled herself off the ground, smoothing down her dress as she went, and startled in a surprise at the person who sat before her. 

“Gilbert,” Anne breathed in greeting, her heart quickening its pace, then dropping down to her stomach when she fully took in his appearance. His muscular, tanned, and very sweaty, exposed chest was on display for her to gawk at from where she stood. He glanced up from where he was eating, and she averted her gaze down to her hands, which she was wringing together desperately in an attempt to regain her composure. 

“Anne,” she heard him say in acknowledgement, the sound of his voice like a cold glass of water on a dry day to her parched ears. 

She risked a glance back at him, his eyes still very much glued to her. “Delphine--I was looking for--” Anne started, suddenly recalling the missing infant.

Gilbert cut in before she could finish. “Bash took her out for a walk in the orchard. He told me he thought that you could use the break.” 

“Oh well that was kind of him, but hardly necessary,” she stammered, her face surely an unattractive shade of dark red. Gilbert took another bite of his food, leaving her to continue standing awkwardly across from him. 

Did he have no sense of decency? Of course it was boiling hot outside, but surely that did not mean he could not put his shirt back on when inside of the house. Especially with her being in the same room as him.

“Anne, you’ve been asleep for at least an hour. Bash and I needed the break. It’s hot enough to cause a heat stroke if you’re out there for too long today,” he informed her indifferently, going back to his food again and finally looking away from her. 

The girl chewed restlessly on her lower lip, the words that had been building up since the night of Josie’s party threatening to burst out of her at any second. “Gilbert I wanted---” she tried helplessly, her thought catching in her throat. His dark brown eyes lifted from his plate, a guarded expression to them. She had enough.

“I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to leave you without saying a thing about what happened that night. You have every right to be mad and hurt at me. In fact, I almost wish you would yell at me right now because I truly deserve it. You are a good person who is worthy of someone far more sophisticated and beautiful and coherent than me. I am no more than an intoxicated fool who assumed she had some right to kiss you and touch you,” Anne’s voice trembling with unabashed honesty for once, laying herself bare for him to see. “I miss you. Your companionship and wisdom. Your kindness and patience. For I know I can be as stubborn as a mule and hot-headed with my temper and brash with my words--”

“Anne,” Gilbert broke in before she could finish her lament of her worst features, which slightly annoyed her since she wasn’t done listing all of the reasons why he should be cross with her. He rose from his seat and walked toward her, leaning back against the edge of the table so they were only feet apart. Waiting nervously for him to speak, she chanced a glance down at the freckle on his chest, directly beneath his collarbone.

“I was hurt,” he admitted quietly. “You drive me mad sometimes, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.” His tone raised slightly and the copper-headed girl braced herself for his assault. This is what she deserved and she would take every insult he threw with acceptance. 

“But you Anne--you are the most sophisticated, beautiful, and coherent person that I know.” She could have sworn her heart stopped beating in her chest when she heard him utter those words instead. “You have been all of those things, and so much more, since the first day I met you,” he confessed reverently.  

His fingers reached out to rest cautiously on her chin and she lifted her head to look at him once more. This time, daring herself to hope again. She could see the softness returning to his face as she lost herself in the affectionate glow of his eyes. Her flesh erupted in goosebumps as his knuckles trailed up and down her cheek in a gentle rhythm, just like they had after she kissed him. 

 “I--I think I’m desperately in love with you Gil,” Anne gushed so openly that she almost smacked her hand over her mouth in shock. Perhaps he would run for the hills now after hearing such a bold declaration.

To her dismay, a low chuckle bellowed from Gilbert’s chest, then he was laughing to the point of hysterics, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes and running down his cheeks. Anne didn’t know whether to feel offended or content that this is how he chose to respond to her admission of love. “Are you sure you’re not the one who is drunk this time?” she mirthfully questioned, swatting him lightly on the arm. 

He regained his composure, pulling her into a close embrace as he grinned down at her, his cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling in happiness. “Anne-girl, there has been no one for me, but you. The moment you broke that slate across my head, I was a gone man. Never would I have dreamed that you would ever--” 

Anne pressed her lips against his, silencing him, for she had heard everything that she already knew to be true deep down. Kissing him in his kitchen, the sun beating down heavily through the window, his hands steadying her, his heartbeat echoing her own, was everything she had ever wanted. She brought her fingers up into his unruly hair, this time feeling damp from sweat, but she could hardly care. His lips broke from hers and started trailing along her cheek then jaw then neck, leaving a searing mark on each inch of skin as he went. 

“Gilbert,” she sighed, her brain a blur of euphoria. She could feel his smile in the crook of her neck as he pressed another kiss to a freckle he was quite intent on appreciating. 

“Oi Blythe! Shirley!” The teenagers broke apart so rapidly Gilbert nearly toppled over the table. “What are you thinking, setting an example like this, in front of your poor niece,” Bash exclaimed loudly, bouncing the baby in his arms. “Don’t worry Delly, your papa will protect you from these two heathens,” he teased mercilessly, covering Delphine’s eyes.

Anne and Gilbert both released laughs of pent up awkwardness from the unexpected guest and gave each other timid looks.

“Next time, put a shirt on Blythe,” Bash declared, tossing him the one long forgotten from on the table. Gilbert accepted the item and pulled it over his head as Bash left the room, shaking his own head and smirking to himself.

+++++

Gilbert took the opportunity to walk her back to Green Gables after dinner, her hand fitting securely into the crook of his arm. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder. The pair chatted amiably about the events that had unfolded during the week. She recited a new poem she had learned for Matthew, and Gilbert gave her a sidelong look of wonder like he couldn’t quite believe that she was real. 

When they got to the gate in front of Green Gables, Anne was mournful to depart from him, despite knowing that they would be reunited tomorrow at the church picnic. 

“So---that tragical romance you mentioned back at Mary and Bash’s wedding...,” Gilbert started unexpectedly, his gaze intent on her from across the fence. 

“No longer remains to be seen,” Anne finished, reaching to stroke his cheek comfortingly. 

Gilbert let out a sigh of relief and ducked to steal another kiss from her before Marilla called out from the front door. “Anne! Is that you?”

They both laughed quietly at the older woman’s outburst. “I guess that’s my cue,” the girl lamented, taking his hand in hers, not quite accepting the events that conspired today were real.

“Goodnight my Anne-girl.” Gilbert gave her hand a squeeze, and let her go, backing up slowly, his eyes remaining on her as he went. Anne watched him blissfully until she heard Marilla call her name again. 

She spun around merrily and skipped to the house, her heart soaring with the knowledge that she was loved very dearly by Gilbert Blythe.

tagging: @hecksinki, @blarkeshirbert, @autummn-leaves, @ewolfwitchwisegirl, @leadingmehome, @melanneniel, @youcalledusremember, @neliel-deathberry, @blackxones BECAUSE YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST <3 <3

[the-coldest-goodbye]

Falling in love with Brienne of Tarth and confessing your love to her would include...

Brienne of Tarth x reader

Request by Anonymous: “heyo i <3 brienne so would you do reader confessing to her and brienne thinking she is joking/making fun of her and reader convincing her she loves her? tyyyy”

A/N: This was requested months ago. I started working on it back then, but didn’t get around to finishing it until now. Sorry about that. I hope you like it! (Gif not mine, found on Google.)

CW: Mentions of low self-esteem, cruelty,  harassment, etc.

► Brienne of Tarth is no stranger to rude stares or laughter. Given her defiance of gender roles in Westeros, she attracts a lot of negative attention. Despite the regularity with which she faces these types of reactions, it still stings every time. It’s hard for her to think highly of herself when she lives in a world that others her. Spending her entire life being told that she was ugly, unlovable, and a freak made Brienne internalize that. 

► The first time Brienne lays eyes on you, she knows you’re special. She sees the kindness and gentleness with which you interacted with others. The first time Brienne interacts with you, you’re even kind to her. Instead of staring at her like she’s a spectacle, you treat her with respect. There’s no thinly veiled laughter or disbelief, just warmth and acceptance.

► Without you knowing, Brienne gives you her heart the first day she meets you. She thinks you’re kind and honorable, and she thinks you’re someone worth fighting for. In a world full of so much cruelty, you’re a beacon of hope to her. She secretly vows to herself that she will protect you.

► And without her knowing, you’ve taken an interest in her beyond just friendly curiosity. She’s like no woman you’ve seen before, one of a kind, and you’re smitten. Men make fun of her and harass her, but you see a noble knight, a true knight, one you only hear about in stories and songs. Her inner beauty shines out from her. And in fact, you don’t think she’s physically unattractive in the slightest. Perhaps she doesn’t embody the traditional feminine beauty standards of Westeros, but that doesn’t bother you one bit. Despite men mockingly calling her “Brienne the Beauty,” you truly see a beauty.

► You go out of your way to run into her and chat with her a bit. You begin to ask her to walk with you around the gardens, you linking your arm with hers. Brienne’s face goes red every time. She hopes you never notice, but you always do. You don’t want her to feel embarrassed, so you never mention it.

► When you begin to share about yourself and your life with Brienne, you’re taken aback by just how sweet and thoughtful her comments were, with her offering you support and advice and reassurance whenever you mentioned something challenging you were going through. She truly listens to you and gives you thoughtful advice, your best interests clearly in mind.

► Whenever Brienne says anything self-deprecating, you protest and point out all of the wonderful qualities you see in her, things she often could not see. Brienne blushes and try to brush your compliments off, but you’re unwavering in your insistence that she is brilliant and refuse to let her continue to put herself down around you.

► One day, you remark on how you wish you knew how to use a sword, and Brienne offers to teach you how. She meets with you every day to give you lessons.

► Meanwhile, Podrick is watching all of this unfold from the sidelines, and he ships it so hard. He has never seen Brienne blush or light up the way she did around you, so he knows that she feels something for you.

► Podrick tries to bring you up to her in private, carefully broaching the subject, but Brienne doesn’t really understand what he’s implying with his subtlety, so he eventually has to outright ask what’s going on between the two of you. Brienne says she’s just teaching you how to defend yourself, but Podrick raises an eyebrow and says it seems like more — the smiles, the linking of arms, the walks you two have alone, the way Brienne always looks after you with puppy dog eyes, etc. Brienne brushes it off, insisting that it’s nothing.

► Deep down, Brienne feels her stomach in her throat and her face going red. She has a crush on you, but could it be possible that you may like her back as more than just a companion? No, it can’t be, she scolds herself. Podrick doesn’t know what he’s talking about. She keeps telling herself that you couldn’t possibly like her as more than just an acquaintance, maybe even a friend, but that’s it. It would hurt too much for her to get her hopes up that her feelings were reciprocated only for it to not be true, so she refuses to believe what Podrick is saying.

► You two continue seeing each other all the time, continuing with the sword lessons as well as your strolls around the garden and all of the time you spend chatting and confiding in each other.

► However, the more time the two of you spend with each other, the more you fall for Brienne. You can’t contain it anymore. You don’t know how Brienne will handle it or if she’s even interested in you, but you think she is. You decide to take a chance.

► One evening, the two of you are strolling through a secluded area as the sun begins to set. It’s beautiful, and you can’t think of a better time to reveal to Brienne that you like her as more than just a friend. You have a shy grin on your face and say, “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, Brienne, and I just want you to know that I like you.” Brienne beams down at you and says, “I’m quite fond of you as well, Y/N. I cherish our friendship.” Your heart is racing and you blurt out, “I like you more than just a friend, Brienne. I think I’m in love with you.”

► For a brief second, Brienne’s heart swells with joy — until it occurs to her that you must be playing a cruel joke on her. No one has ever liked her like that before. Why would you?

► She becomes cold and angry towards you, snapping that that’s not funny. You try to reassure her that you’re not joking, and she gets more upset. Her jaw clenches and her eyes begin to fill with tears that threaten to spill over at any moment. In a fit of anger, she blurts out how she’s always been made the butt of jokes like these ever since her youth and how she thought you were different and kind, but apparently she was wrong.

► She begins to storm off, but you grab her arm and beg her to look at you. The pain on her face breaks your heart. You admit in the most sincere way possible that you aren’t joking, that you’ve been attracted to her since the first time you laid eyes on her, that you fell in love with her integrity and decency and strength of character since the first time you talked to her, that you found her truly beautiful. You feel vulnerable for bearing your heart and soul to her, and you pray that she believes you.

► Brienne sees the sincerity in your eyes, completely unlike how the boys who would make fun of her would look at her. At this point, most boys would’ve been barely holding it together, cruelty and laughter apparent in their eyes; but the warmth in your eyes looked genuine.

► Brienne would be speechless. After a moment of silence from her being stunned, she would ask in a small voice, “Really?” You take her hands in yours. “Really,” you confirm, a smile on your face and tears in your eyes. Brienne falters for a moment, a relieved sob escaping from her mouth. You reach up to take her face in your hands and pull her in for a kiss. Brienne is motionless and shocked for a split second until she returns the kiss with a passion she hasn’t felt before.

► From that moment forward, the two of you are inseparable. Brienne would do anything to protect you and keep you strong, wanting you to continue to spread your kindness in a world that can be so cruel. Through your affection, you would help Brienne slowly build up her self-esteem, helping her see how valuable, strong, and beautiful she really is. Together, the two of you felt strong and unstoppable.

► (Podrick is HYPED. He’s already planning the wedding.)

[kokobussy]

Untitled 2 - Baekhyun Smut

Ahh thanks for the request! I really appreciate it. I’m sorry this one took so long. I’m balancing school, an internship, a part-time job so I’ve been MIA for a bit, but it’s finally here!

Warning: Smut, Oppa kink, Spanking, Barebacking

Honestly, you can’t even remember what you said to make him this angry, this pouty. You think it was some stupid joke about Baekhyun’s height or how he lost the match to Minseok who doesn’t even play video games, or maybe it’s the fact that you refuse to call him “Oppa” despite his insistence over the few months you’ve been dating. Even though you’re only a few hours younger than Baekhyun, separated by time zones and pure chance, he still lords the fact that he’s technically older over you. If you asked him a question about something, anything, he’d coo and pinch your cheeks while talking about much older he is and therefore wiser. If you couldn’t manage to open a jar or reach something on a top shelf, Baekhyun would pat your head and assist you even though he’s only a few inches taller than you himself. If you’re out with friends at a bar and you get carded, Baekhyun calls you a baby and demands that you act “cute” for the rest of the night. Your boyfriend makes sure to rub the fact that you’re younger in your face every single chance he gets. Is it incredibly annoying? Definitely. Is it incredibly annoying but also endearing and sweet? No. No, it isn’t. So because Baekhyun does this, you refuse to call him Oppa or anything close to that. You call him “Baek” or “Babe”, blaming your foreignness on your refusal to use the word rather than the fact that you simply didn’t want to. Because he messed with you relentlessly, you messed with him, but maybe this time you took it too far or said a few jokes too many.

Regardless of what it is that initially made him upset, Baekhyun is uncharacteristically quiet now. You’re both playing Street Fighter with Minseok and Jongdae at the dorm. After running a series of errands and procrastinating on said errands before only completing one or two, you came to the dorm just as the sun fell. It’s well into the evening now, time spent with Baekhyun always went by so fast, and you’ve been refusing to teach Jongdae and Minseok the controls so they could stand a fighting chance. It might be cheating, it definitely is cheating, but watching Minseok fume with anger and Jongdae rant about the unfairness of it all is worth it. But now Baekhyun isn’t laughing at your jokes anymore or chiming in with Jongdae when he marvels about the graphics of this particular cutscene. He just sits there and stews in his anger without giving you a reason why. You nudge gently, looking at him in concern briefly, before shrugging it off. Baekhyun’s an adult and if he wants to tell you what’s wrong then he will eventually.

When the next match begins, you do your best to pull out every single combo in the book to absolutely annihilate Minseok this round. Just as you begin Blanka’s Shout of Earth, you can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, but right in your peripheral, you can see that Baekhyun’s eyes are unmoving. After successfully landing a triple combo on Jongdae, you chance a look at your boyfriend and find a mischevious glint in his eye. Minseok and Jongdae proceed to tag team Baekhyun’s unmoving character like the assholes they are, but Baekhyun doesn’t care. He isn’t bothered in the slightest. There’s something about that mischief that makes you apprehensive, but also curious to find where it leads. At this point, a smile slowly begins to spread on his face as his idea festers and develops into something that you probably won’t be able to control. 

“What?” you ask as your fingers rapidly create combos you didn’t even know existed to take the two boys down. Baekhyun has the decency to wait until you singlehandedly kill Jongdae and Minseok, their yells of anguish and complaints filling the living room, before grabbing your wrist and pulling you off the couch along with him.

He doesn’t give a response or explain anything to his bandmates. Baekhyun just guides you to his room and promptly closes the door once you’re inside. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him sit on the edge of his bed before looking up at you. “C’mere,” he says, patting his lap with a smile. Instinctively you walk over to your boyfriend, skepticism and trepidation evident in your steps, and stand between his spread legs. You don’t realize that the Playstation controller is still in your hand until Baekhyun gently takes it and tosses it on the floor. His fingers find their way to the waistband of your shorts, slowly tugging until you get the hint. Oh. It doesn’t take much effort. Your shorts and underwear are pooled around your feet in no time, but for some reason, you’re still on edge. If Baekhyun just wanted a quickie he would’ve said so. Albeit you’ve only been dating for a short period of time, but when he’s horny he’s pretty predictable. Giggles of a certain pitch, lingering hands, and a long “Baby~” in your ear let you know that he’s needy and just how needy he is. But there wasn’t any of that today. So you stand here in front of him, t-shirt hanging off your shoulder, waiting for his next move.

It’s all a blur from there.

You have no idea how he did it. Baekhyun musters strength you didn’t know he had to manhandle you over his lap. In your morbid curiosity you sort of just let him adjust you, your legs laying on the bed while your arms support your upper half on the other side. Your ass, bare, now lies perfectly in front of Baekhyun to ogle and fondle.

Except that’s not what he wants to do.

He doesn’t want to just touch you, to worship your body like he usually does. There’s an intent behind this action that you can’t entirely place until it’s happening. The first slap entirely catches you off guard, a yelp bubbling out of your mouth before you can catch it. Baekhyun hums to himself, taking the time to squeeze the supple flesh in front of him, and says, ”I know we’re still getting used to each other, but if this is gonna work you’re going to have to be respectful-” Respectful? You laugh a little too loudly, a little too pointedly, just to let him know how ridiculous you think he’s being. “Baek, get off of m-” 

A sharp pain bites at the back of your thighs at rapid speed. Just as you realize it’s there that the pain, so hot and quick, blossoms into a dull burning ache. “Let’s try this again,” you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re going to count all the way up to ten. Hopefully, by then you’ll have learned your lesson. Be a good girl for me okay?”

Learn your lesson? You’re an adult, only a few hours younger than him, and yet here he is treating you like a child.  You had no idea Baekhyun had this in him or that you could ever want something like this. While your annoyance steadily grows into anger and indignation, you make no attempt to tell your boyfriend that you don’t like this or that you want to stop. Because it isn’t true. You don’t want to stop. You do like this even though it’s completely humiliating. In spite of liking it though, you still have to give Baekhyun a run for his money. It’s in your nature to give him a hard time with just about anything, just like it’s in his, but when you get up to face him, to playfully push your boyfriend and call him a nerd, he surprises you. Baekhyun grips your hair firmly to keep you in place and unleashes a few harsh slaps in succession. The sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the room so loudly it’s almost deafening. You’re sure, absolutely positive now, that Jongdae and Minseok can hear the whole thing. 

Baekhyun sighs as if the entire thing is a major inconvenience to him. He rubs your slowly reddening cheeks absentmindedly as he says, mockingly woeful, ”Those didn’t even count.”

You try to wiggle out of his hold, albeit weakly, but every attempt at escaping is cut off. Every time you speak out to disrupt whatever rules have suddenly been enforced, every time you try to move and make things difficult, every time you tell him to go fuck himself, Baekhyun smacks your ass harshly. Each correction is harder and more painful than the last, and you’re not ashamed to admit that each correction feels better than the last. You whimper, grunt, and groan under Baekhyun’s efforts to get you to completely submit until your mind begins to grow fuzzy. You can feel the forceful and pointed push of Baekhyun’s cock through his joggers and into your hip from your place in his lap. You can also feel the way he gently grinds against you, eager to find some friction in all of this. 

“Just say it,” Baekhyun gasps as he thrusts particularly hard, ”We can’t do anything until you say it.”

From the force of his actions, you’ve shifted slightly away from Baekhyun’s lap so he pulls you back in. Just as Baekhyun grabs your thigh to maneuver you over, he feels a familiar wetness there. He runs a few fingers through your slit and takes the time to rub slow circles onto your swollen clit. You hate yourself for leaning into his touch; for giving in so easily, but you keep your mouth shut. Your resolve soon crumbles when Baekhyun’s circles become firmer. You moan into the sheets below you and grab at the sheets for support. Whether you intend to or not, your hips raise slightly to seek his fingers just as Baekhyun pulls away to admire his slick covered fingers. “Fuck, you’re soaking,” he mumbles, more to himself than you. He readjusts his grip on your hair as his other hand seeks where you need him most.

 Baekhyun slips a finger in incredibly easily, turning his palm down instinctively to search for your G-spot. This finger is soon accompanied by another as he builds a painfully slow rhythm that seems to be more for his own excitement than yours. While his fingers stretch you, prepare you for what’s to come, they do nothing for your pleasure. Although it satisfies your need for something, anything, to fill you, it’s not enough. As if picking up on your desperation and the fact that you’re near your breaking point, Baekhyun asks, “Don’t you want to feel good, baby?” His fingers firmly stroke that special bundle in you as he asks, ”Don’t you want Oppa to make you feel good?”

As your stomach grows hot from the tension, the small bursts of pleasure you’re receiving, you can barely think logically anymore. All you can think about, all you can focus on is Baekhyun’s cock pressing against you and how much you need it. Whether that’s in your mouth or balls deep in your pussy doesn’t really matter at this point. All you want to is to feel good and if you have to deal with Baekhyun embarrassing you after all this is over then maybe, just maybe, it’s worth it.

“Oppa.”

Baekhyun stupidly perks up almost immediately and loosens the grip in your hair once he realizes he has you. He doesn’t push you to say it again nor does he stall any further. This is as much as he’s gonna get from you and he’s grateful for it. You can hear that smile in his voice again as he says, ”Good job, baby. We’re gonna start now okay?” All of this and you still haven’t started yet.

Despite your cooperation, the first smack isn’t softer than the last; in fact, it matches the same urgency and bite as the last one. “One, Oppa,” you whimper out into the sheets, almost hissing with an effort to stay still. Baekhyun’s hand meets your ass again with the same intensity; just as unforgiving as before. You blink back tears as wave after wave of pleasure and pain hit you in the best way. It goes on like this until everything goes fuzzy entirely until you don’t care about whether or not the boys hear you, until you’re crying into the sheets beneath you. While you’re not outright sobbing, your sniffles alarm your boyfriend to the point of him helping you sit up. Now, straddling his lap, Baekhyun can see your tears — now free — stream down your face. But he can also feel the heat of your soaking pussy through his joggers as you, almost unconsciously, grind against his cock gently.

Baekhyun pulls your hips closer, hips pistoning just as gently as yours, but still has half a mind to ensure that you’re alright. “You okay?” At a loss for words, you can only nod and hope that it’s enough assurance to convince your boyfriend that you’re indeed okay. You’re more than okay. You’ve never experienced pleasure like this in your life. Baekhyun takes in your tears, his face shifting from concern to barely muted pleasure, and bites his lip as his facade continues. He’s never seen you like this before, never seen you this desperate and wanting. Something about your tears of pleasure, the way your hips move in spite of those tears, make Baekhyun the hardest he’s ever been. “I know, I know,” he says as you straddle his lap and whimper at the proximity, 

”Oppa’s gonna make it all better.”

Baekhyun shucks off his hoodie, joggers, and briefs in record time before pulling you back into his lap. You’re too far gone, too concerned with your own pleasure, to hold yourself back from sitting on his cock the instant you feel it leaking against your skin. The feeling of being instantly full is almost too much. Not it’s definitely too much. You cum on his cock the minute he’s fully sheathed, a series of spasms and gasps as you hold onto him. Baekhyun groans as he holds onto your hips, grabbing your reddened cheeks with renewed vigor as you adjust to his size.

Your hips begin moving in tandem, soon finding a rhythm that suits you both. Your boyfriend grunts with effort to avoid slipping out of you altogether. Baekhyun can’t bother to lay you down or change it in any way. He grows addicted to the feeling of your pussy, bare and wet, wrapped around his cock like a vice and absolutely refuses to move. The resulting squelches of your slick and his precum along with your moans in his ear are enough to make him cum altogether, but he holds on. As you feel the curve of his cock hitting your G-spot, all you can think about is how good it feels and how much you don’t want this to end. Some primitive part of you can only focus on the ending result, Baekhyun cumming inside of you and in a way marking you as his. 

In the anticipation of that moment, you find yourself cumming again, wanton and insatiable as you piston your hips to seek another orgasm. But Baekhyun can only hold on for so long. He begins to lose rhythm from the sheer pleasure of it all. He can feel that hot coil in his lower tummy ready to spring and by the sound of it, you’ve had enough fun to hold you over. It’s his turn now.

“Oppa, please!”

Baekhyun doesn’t cum to the feeling of your sopping wet pussy gripping him like a vice. He doesn’t cum to your moans and whimpers, your mindless begging for Oppa. He cums to the feeling of your tears soaking his shirt as you cry and beg, absolutely stupid with bliss. He cums without any barrier or restriction, painting your walls white with his climax, and shudders as he holds you close. You can only whimper as you seemingly feel each rope of cum Baekhyun’s spent cock pumps out. It’s hot inside you, filling you in a way you’ve never felt before. 

When it’s all said and done, your boyfriend lies back on his bed and pulls you with him. You lay right on top of his chest and close your eyes in exhaustion as you listen to his heart race.  His softening cock slips out of you easily in this position and you briefly mourn the loss.

Baekhyun rubs your back softly as the two of you come down from your high. There aren’t any words. Nothing really needs to be said in this moment. Baekhyun expresses all he needs to through gentle caresses and soft kisses on your skin. You return the favor tiredly, kissing around his chest and leaning into his touches. But as you adjust to bury your face in the crook of Baekhyun’s neck, you feel something. You soon realize it’s Baekhyun’s cum making a reappearance, a few drops dripping out of your pussy and onto his tummy. Although it’s only a little bit, it’s enough to make you a little uncomfortable. The feeling is foreign and strange causing you to wiggle a bit in discomfort. 

But suddenly Baekhyun pins you to his chest, holding you against him purposefully so you can’t move at all. Because of this all you can focus on is the feeling of his cum slowly but surely spilling out of you. Baekhyun watches your face carefully, making sure to etch the entire scene into his memory for a later time. Even though his eyes never leave yours, you feel used and open in the best way. “Is there any more?” You nod. There wasn’t much to begin with, but there’s definitely some left. Baekhyun smiles and says,

“Keep it in for Oppa okay?”

After doing so well today, you don’t want to disappoint him. You try your hardest to clench down, you really do, but you’re far too tired to kegel. Another drop, the very last, spills and a sense of impending doom fills you. Maybe you didn’t try as hard as you could’ve, but Baekhyun doesn’t need to know that. Baekhyun actually has the nerve to look disappointed as if he could feel the difference in volume of the small puddle on his tummy.

“Oh, baby,” he sighs, ”Do I have to teach you another lesson?”

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian fic - “A Dalton Boy Hotter than Hot” (Rated NC17)

Summary:

While in the steam room at his father’s country club, Sebastian encounters an intriguing man who’s not shy about taking what he wants. (3655 words)

Read on AO3.

“Hey, Sebastian!”

“Hey, Ms. Melanie!”

“Haven’t seen you here in a while!”

“Sorry. Been busy.” Sebastian reaches out a hand for a locker key. “School, lacrosse, getting ready for graduation, you know how it is.”

“Absolutely!” Her smile grows as she hands him a towel from the warming cabinet beside her desk. “My Mark’s going through the same. I barely see him poke his head out of his room on the weekends with all the homework school gives the seniors.”

“Yeah. You think they’d let up a bit considering we’re leaving.”

“Not a chance! For the money we spend to send you kids to Dalton, they’d better stuff you full of knowledge right up to the very end!”

“Trust me, they’ve been doing that all year. It would be nice if they let us relax.”

“You can relax when you’re dead!” Melanie laughs at her own joke, and Sebastian laughs with her. Usually he wouldn’t. He’d roll his eyes and walk away. He wouldn’t be polite about it either, so he’s sure Melanie has noticed over the years. And yet, here she is, as sweet and kind as ever, teasing him as if he were an old friend.

What an ass he’s been, treating her like she’s beneath him because she worked at his father’s country club handing out towels and her son went to Dalton on scholarship! He didn’t do it intentionally. It was always more of a subconscious reaction than a consciously decided action – the unforeseen side-effect of quote/unquote good breeding and constant exposure to the right people.

But he still did it.

He has no problem standing up for himself when sacks of shit like Hunter think they’re his betters, but when is the last time he stood up for someone else? Someone who couldn’t give him anything in return?

Maybe this is what growing up is – realizing your shit stinks more than you think it does and doing your best to keep it downwind. He’d like to say he came to that realization on his own, but it’s more than likely a symptom of the company he’s been keeping.

Company that’s humbled him both figuratively and literally.

He waves goodbye to Melanie and heads for the locker room, making a mental note to find Mark the next time he’s on campus and invite him to the commons for coffee.

He peels off his uniform and tosses it in his locker, rolling his shoulder after every article he removes. He took a few hard hits on the field today. Normally, it wouldn’t be so bad, but Hunter seemed to have it out for him. Probably because Sebastian was named MVP of yesterday’s game.

Plus, he got some ass last night to boot. That had to irk Hunter, who hasn’t gotten his dick wet in God knows when.

Sebastian wraps the towel around his waist before he slips out of his underwear. He’s not self-conscious about his body by any means. At Dalton, he has no qualms about tossing off all his clothes in the locker room after practice and strutting to the shower naked.

But this place isn’t like the locker room at school.

The boys at Dalton keep their eyes to themselves. They respect one another’s boundaries. Even if that’s simply a consequence of Dalton’s zero tolerance bullying policy, it makes for a safe and pleasant environment.

Not here.

Coming here alone after school has opened Sebastian’s eyes to a lot of things about the so-called real world - realizations that are cartoonish in their absurdity.

One of them being that married men think about sex … a lot.

Not necessarily with their partners.

And even though straight adult men around his father’s age might turn up their noses at sex with another adult male, that doesn’t mean teenaged boys are off the table. Maybe it’s because they’re attracted to youth and youth can be considered androgynous. Smooth skin and a tight ass doesn’t need to belong to a specific gender to make it appealing.

It could also be ego – the alpha inside them eager to dominate a perceived up-and-coming alpha to prove they’ve still got it. They may never act on it, not in a million years. They may even deny it.

But their eyes tell a different story.

Sebastian enters the thick cloud of steam and walks to the far end of the room, finds an empty space and sits. Finding an unoccupied bench isn’t as easy as it sounds. It’s seven in the evening and fairly crowded for a weeknight.

It always is.

Sebastian judges heavily the men gathered here who should be at home having dinner with their families. It grosses him out how many of these old farts stare at him while he sits on his bench, trying to ignore their slimy existences. He knows a handful of them – not well, not by name. But he’s seen them around the club, old money and new money alike, in the main dining hall, out on the links when he golfs with his dad, over by the pool, a lot of them with their wives and kids.

That makes it worse.

Away from their significant others, they look him over like he’s a meal, licking their lips behind the veil of steam, some with their eyes glued to his brand as if they know what it represents. And that makes him wonder …

Do they want to own him, or be him?

The question makes his skin crawl but he doesn’t leave. Sebastian came here because he needed to get away from school, from people who barge into his room uninvited and talk his ear off endlessly without taking a breath, as if they don’t see him eight hours out of the God dammed day.

But from Hunter especially.

Sebastian had a feeling Hunter would stop by his room after his shower, and he wasn’t in the mood for his crap. It filled him head to toe with tension that he didn’t need, felt it accumulate in his sore shoulder – the same shoulder as his brand.

The brand Hunter hated with a passion.

So Sebastian chose getting ogled over by pathetic old men in exchange for peace and quiet.

Seems like a reasonable exchange.

He rolls his head back on his neck and closes his eyes, and the second he does, he becomes the center of attention. He doesn’t need to see the men looking at him. He knows. He feels eyes on him, eyes that shamelessly stare, and out of pure, morbid curiosity, he opens his again to check.

To silently call them out, shame those of them who have some shame left.

A handful of men do look away. Most of the others can’t be bothered, going so far as to rub their erections through their towels as if in invitation.

Make Sebastian reconsider his seat.

But amidst the sea of flabby bellies and greying hair, Sebastian spots a man he swears he’s never seen before. He doesn’t fit in with the other fogies, which is a mark in his favor. He’s not flabby in the slightest, not a grey hair to be seen. He’s an older man, but not a dad.

More like a Daddy if Sebastian ever saw one.

From his toned arms and chest to his striking blue eyes, he cuts quite the picture. Sebastian wonders if the pudgy masses haven’t been sizing him up, too. Maybe once or twice, but not the way they do with Sebastian. They wouldn’t dare. This man gives off some serious apex predator vibes.

And right now, he has his sights set on Sebastian.

This man is gorgeous, which is not a word Sebastian tosses around lightly. He can only recall using it one other time - to describe his Porsche.

Fitting since this man is another thing he’s dying to ride.

That thought must manifest on his face because the man smirks and raises a questioning brow. Sebastian nods. He swallows hard. He inclines his head slightly toward the door, attempting to extend a subtle invitation. Sebastian knows nothing of ‘steam room etiquette’ except what he’s seen in a few cheesy ass pornos. He doesn’t even know if anything like that goes on here. He’d only started coming here on his own recently and it’s definitely not a place he’d choose to look for sex.

But there are exceptions to every rule, and this man is one fine exception.

Is Sebastian actually going to do this? Here? After having judged everyone else around him so harshly for thinking the same thing this man’s probably thinking?

Yes. Yes, he is.

He doesn’t know this man from Adam, but he’s different from the rest if for no other reason than, if he is married, he has the decency not to wear his ring.

So if he’s down to fuck, why not?

With eyes locked on those intoxicating steely blues, Sebastian rises from his bench and makes his way out of the steam room, heading for one of the more private rooms down the hall.

Ones with locks on the doors.

A skeevy guy Sebastian swears once asked his dad for stock advice a while back reaches for his towel as he passes, and Sebastian responds the same way his father had: “Not fucking likely.”

Sebastian doesn’t turn his head to see if he’s being followed – unwise considering the wrong man may have picked up on his invitation and Mr. Sexy AF may have stayed behind. But the mere chance that that man is behind him, following him down this hall, has Sebastian aroused eight ways till Sunday, the extreme tenting of his towel leading him like some obscene beacon. He goes to the farthest room and peeks in.

It’s empty.

Perfect.

If the man follows him in, it will prove they’re on the same page.

That he wants him.

Sebastian walks inside.

He leaves the door open.

It’s not a large room – roughly the size of his Dalton dorm room, maybe a few feet bigger, with benches along the wall to seat about five people. There’s another bench near the center, mounted in front of a square pedestal that comes up to Sebastian’s stomach. The top of the pedestal is recessed to hold rocks and heated underneath. Pouring water on the rocks produces steam. The more water added, the more steam produced. It billows up and over the rocks, down the column of the pedestal, and fills the room from corner to corner.

In a room this size, it’s effective at keeping things hot.

Sebastian heads for the rocks and begins ladling water over them.

Behind him, he hears the door close … and lock.

Sebastian stops ladling.

He still doesn’t know if the person behind him is the man he wants, and even though it’s going to cause one hell of a headache if it’s not him, these last moments of uncertainty provide their own erotic thrill.

The man doesn’t insult Sebastian’s intelligence, doesn’t employ any pretense, doesn’t sit down on one of the benches to make it seem like he’s there for any other reason than to pursue his prize. He puts a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, palm pressing into his brand, and spins him around.

And there he is – sculpted cheekbones, toned chest, blue eyes and all. He stares pointedly into Sebastian’s face and says, “Tell me to leave.”

Sebastian grins. “Why would I do that? I led you here.”

The man puts a bold hand on Sebastian’s ass and pulls him close. Sebastian feels every inch of the man against him – unforgiving planes and muscles, including his cock, resting against his own. “If we do this,” he whispers, “am I going to be your first?”

“Does that matter?”

“Not if it doesn’t matter to you. I just wanted to make sure you’re not the wine and roses type.”

“Actually, I think I’m the fast and hard in a steam room type.”

The man grins. “You jewel.” He grabs Sebastian by the back of the neck and kisses him, reaching for their towels and tugging them away, tossing them on the bench behind. Salty sweat on skin mix, dripping down Sebastian’s upper lip till he can taste it on his tongue. The man reaches for their cocks and strokes them together. Sebastian’s stomach spasms. He doesn’t know how to react, where to put his hands, how to participate. This is happening so fast, it makes Sebastian’s head spin. This man isn’t like the boys Sebastian has made out with, fondled, felt up, jerked off. This man knows what he’s doing, knows what he wants. He pushes Sebastian down onto the towel-covered bench with no hesitation, gets on his knees, and sucks Sebastian off, holding on to his hips a little too hard.

But Sebastian likes it.

“Jesus Christ!” he groans, hands locking onto the bench beneath him and holding tight. He’d always considered himself well-endowed, but this man has no trouble with him, taking him all the way down his throat without gagging an inch. The man goes at him hard. Sebastian tries to back up, to slow him down, but the man won’t have it, squeezing his hips harder, digging his thumbs into pressure points until Sebastian submits. And submit he does, lying back like a lion in surrender, arms and legs draped over the sides, his abs tense but his mind giving up control, allowing only for the uttering of one weak word: “Yes … yes … yes …” Muscles in his thighs and biceps twitch as he fights not to cum, but there’s little he can do to combat this man’s voracious mouth and his exceptionally talented tongue.

Sebastian cums.

The man’s mouth disappears, and the air around Sebastian’s cock cools even though the room is sweltering.

“Oh, God,” he moans, nearly rolling off the bench in his attempt to stand.

“Nu-uh.” The man puts a hand to his branded shoulder and pushes him down. “I’m not done with you yet. Not by a long shot.”

“Good,” Sebastian growls. He may be out of his league, but that doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying it. “But I’m not too sure I can get hard again right away after that.”

“Let me worry about that. Besides, I don’t need you hard. I need you open.”

“Then open me up.” Sebastian realizes that’s a dangerous thing to say to a stranger in a locked room, but it’s hot in here, and he’s still riding high off that orgasm. Between steam and lust, he’s feeling woozy.

“So, you like being used?” The man grabs Sebastian’s ass cheeks and pulls them apart, spending a long time just looking without touching.

“As long as you’re doing the using.”

The man chuckles. “You don’t even know me.”

“Do I have to?”

“That depends …” The man spits onto his fingers and wipes them over Sebastian’s asshole in a crude attempt at lubrication “… you’re not going to get attached to me or anything, are you? I’m not sure I need you following me around like a puppy dog.”

“Hey, you followed me, remember?” Sebastian grits his teeth when he feels one finger, slick with spit and sweat, make its way inside his body. It doesn’t hurt. Sebastian’s too relaxed for it to hurt.

“But you led me in here. You said so yourself.”

Another finger joins the first, and despite Sebastian’s mellow exhaustion, he starts bucking back.

“A-ha. I led you in here so you could fuck me, not talk about it. So why don’t you get on with it?”

The flat of a hand smacks his ass as a third finger forces its way inside. It stings like all get out, but when Sebastian clenches, he and the man behind him moan.

“God!” the man growls, fingers disappearing. The head of his cock replaces them at Sebastian’s entrance, becoming his sole focus. “I’ve gotta be in you! Now!”

“What? No condom?” Sebastian teases. He doesn’t have enough blood left in his brain to recognize that this is one of those moments they warn you about in sex-ed. He’s so far gone for this man, so ready to be fucked, he couldn’t care less about the consequences.

“Nah. I need to feel you.” The man’s voice shakes as he eases inside Sebastian’s body, snapping his hips and fucking him before he’s even all the way inside. But the first long thrust that slams Sebastian’s prostate brings his face straight to the bench.

“Fuck!” Sebastian grips the bench with knuckles white to keep from sliding off on his sweaty knees.

“Your wish is my command,” the man jokes, going back to what he seems to do best – fucking and fucking hard, spreading Sebastian’s cheeks wider and driving into him so deep, Sebastian swears he can feel the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. He’s tempted to ask this man if fucking is his day job, but he doesn’t because what if it is? What if that’s the reason he’s here? What if he’s a professional, making a few extra bucks trolling a den of pitiful rich old fucks stepping out on their wives?

If that’s the case, this man has earned so much of Sebastian’s respect.

If Sebastian has to fork over a few thou after this encounter, it’ll be well worth it to support him doing God’s work.

“Here …” the man switches positions, sitting on the bench and pulling Sebastian down on him “… sit on my lap. Help me out. Arms up. Hands behind your head.”

The posing makes it difficult for Sebastian to move, but a moment later, he realizes the need. The man’s arms wrap around him, his hands roaming his body from clavicle to cock, massaging muscles and toying with his nipples before they settle between his legs. The man fondles him – balls with one hand, shaft with the other – and Sebastian’s flaccid cock springs back with a vengeance.

So much for not being able to get hard right after. He just needed to find a man who knew his was around his body.

“Fuck … fuck … fuck … fuck …” Sebastian grunts, doing his best to keep going when what he wants to do is sit on this man’s cock and let him stroke him to completion.

“My, my, my, what a mouth you have. We really need to find some way to shut you up. Maybe with my dick next time. Whaddya think?”

“Yes,” Sebastian moans.

“I want you full of me,” the man grumbles, pushing down on Sebastian’s thighs with his forearms to make him go faster. “I wanna tie you down and take turns fucking you and having you suck me off. Whaddya think about that?”

“Ye—” Sebastian mutters, finding it impossible to speak the closer he gets to cumming, bobbing on this man’s cock becoming sheer but exquisite torture.

“Here …” The man holds Sebastian steady in a crouch position inches above his lap “… stay like that. Don’t move.” He leans back, starts driving his hips up, and Sebastian’s legs begin to shake. “You’re an athletic young man. You should be able to stay like that till I’m through with you.”

Sebastian’s tongue slips. He says something he had no intention of saying, no intention of calling anyone. “Yes … Sir …”

“Sir …” The man purrs. “I like the sound of that. I like the sound of that … very … much …” The man pulls Sebastian down into his lap and holds him there, bucking inside him with small, deliberate thrusts until his entire body devolves into seizure-like shakes, his cock pulsing inside him as he cums, trapped in Sebastian’s incredible heat.

And there’s so much of it – heat enveloping his cock, heat clinging to his skin, heat pouring down his hand as he wrings Sebastian’s cock dry, heat drying out his mouth and throat, making it difficult to breathe. With Sebastian pressing on his stomach, he feels like he might suffocate.

But all in all, this wouldn’t be too bad a way to go.

“Scene … scene …” Kurt mutters, unable to get the word over out of his mouth as he pants for air, comfortably crushed beneath Sebastian’s body in the irrepressible heat.

Sebastian gasps, bending at the waist, fighting to find cool air beneath the oppressive blanket of hot “So … what … did you think … of that … Master?”

“I think you have one hell of a dirty mind on you, preppy. Shit!” Kurt laughs, wrapping an arm around Sebastian’s midsection, laying kisses over his spine. “I’m so glad I made you pick this time! I didn’t know this was one of those steam rooms! Your folks are really getting their money’s worth!”

“I—it’s … it’s not, Master,” Sebastian says, reluctant to reveal the truth with his Dom up his ass, kissing his back.

The kisses stop, and despite the world around them being somewhere in the vista of 110 degrees, Sebastian’s entire body freezes solid.

“It’s not?”

“Uh, no.”

“So, what you’re saying is …”

“We may want to jet before they call my dad.”

Sebastian can’t see Kurt’s reaction to this new information, and the longer he has to wait, the sicker he begins to feel. He expects to get yelled at, feel nails rake down his sides, maybe even get shoved to the floor.

Kurt snickering into his skin relaxes him a hair.

His full out guffawing lets Sebastian know everything’s going to be okay – between them, at least.

“Holy shit!” Kurt snorts, pushing Sebastian off his lap, but gently. “You really have issues with symbols of societal standing, don’t you?”

“I … guess? Is that bad, Master?”

“Not at all.” Kurt throws Sebastian a towel and ties his own around his waist. “I think I’m beginning to see why the fuck it is you and I get along so well.”

*** Notes:I personally feel that in a sexual relationship like Kurt and Sebastian’s, roleplaying is a really good way for us as the audience to get into the minds of the characters. You see the things that they don’t necessarily express in dialogue, even in inner monologue, including how they see themselves interacting with the world around them - how they feel despite what they say.

[the-blue-and-yaya-show]

I wrote a thing so here is the thing

His father never smiled. Never laughed, saved for a small chuckle here and there, and even then, that was rare.

He seemed to drift from place to place, whether it was wandering into the woods to set and check traps and hunt for meals, gathering the children for bedtime...or just sitting alone, cleaning his sword.

But one thing Koromaru knew for certain: his father loved his mother dearly. He saw it in every motion. Even without a smile, this man who had lost everything saw reason to live in her, and in what they made together.

Koromaru couldn’t sleep that night. The rain pounding on the roof kept stirring him from his sleep, and apparently he wasn’t alone.


“You, too?” Hibito looked over as he saw Koromaru sitting up. Little Tatsuhime was still curled up, asleep. “Tatsu sleeps through everything...”

“Yeah...I’m jealous of her sometimes.” Koromaru laughed slightly. He looked around the room. His parents weren’t there, nor was Shiranui.

“I’m..gonna walk around for a little bit,” Koromaru climbed out of bed.

“If mom and dad catch you they’re just gonna send you back to bed,” Hibito grumbled, laying back down.

“I know...so I just won’t let them catch me.”

Koromaru left the room and began to walk down the darkened hall in their small home, squinting to see in the dark. A dim light was coming from one of the few rooms on the property, the door slightly ajar. Carefully, curiously, Koromaru knelt by the door, peering through the opening. By the light of a lantern, he saw his father kneeling behind his mother, a lock of her hair in his hand as he was quietly combing it; she was focused on sewing one of her children’s clothes. Shiranui was asleep nearby, the dog splayed out across the floor.

“You surely must be bored at this point,” Kotoko looked back slightly, “You can stop if you want.”


“Mm-mm,” Mitsunari shook his head lightly. “I’m fine. Just hold still.”

Kotoko relented, allowing him to continue as she went back to her work. “We needed this rain,” she began.

“We did,” he agreed, “I was starting to wonder if we were going to have a drought.”

“I saw the face you were making at the vegetables in the garden.”

“I was concerned they were dying. I don’t want to have to send you or the children down the mountain to get seeds or supplies.”

“It’s really nothing, Mitsunari—“

“Kotoko, no one is supposed to know we’re up here,” he set the comb down, picking up a lock of her hair as it fell through his fingers like water, “that *I’m* up here.”

“And so far nobody has found out,” Kotoko turned to face him, “Koromaru and Hibito have been able to go down there with Shiranui and get rice for us, and no one was the wiser.”

“That we know of.”

Koromaru frowned as he listened. True, he had gone into town a few weeks earlier; trekked down the mountain with his brother and Shiranui close behind. But they had been given three major rules to follow:

Do not give your family name. Do not say where you live. Do not linger.

He understood these rules. Was old enough to be told the full story of why they lived in hiding, away from the world. But still, seeing the children his age running around, laughing and playing, or just sitting and talking...a deep pang of jealousy bubbled up in his chest. He wanted to talk to them. Wanted to join them. Sometimes they even glanced his way and muttered amongst themselves.

“....it’s not fair to them, is it?” Mitsunari breathed in a low voice. “And not fair to you.”

“This is the life we chose—“

“They had no such choice.” Mitsunari grit his teeth.

“....this is true,” she admitted. Mitsunari looked her square in the eye.

“Kotoko,” he asked, “have you ever hated me?”

“Hated you?” Kotoko was taken aback by the question.

“I refuse to believe there was never a point where you despised me for something I did. Surely there was something.”

“Mitsunari, you’re just looking for reasons to feel guilty now. Yes, I’ve had times where I was *frustrated* with you, but no, I’ve never hated you. Well, maybe the three times I had to squeeze out children, but that feeling passed,” she gave a half-hearted laugh.

“I missed two of those three times....”

“Mitsunari, stop that.” She shook her head and took up one of his hands. “It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Hm?” He blinked, caught off guard, but finally gave a small nod.

“Why did you help me that winter?”

“...because you showed me kindness when we were—“

“You had no idea that I was the same person.”

“...I had an inkling. That was enough for me.”

“You could have gotten in trouble for that. Spending time and resources on a stranger you pulled out of the snow.”

He looked down for a moment, at their joined hands. Then, back up. “...Kotoko, much of my life has been exposed to the cruelty of this world. So when someone shows me the slightest decency, I don’t let that debt go unpaid. That is why I served Lord Hideyoshi. And that is why I saved you.”

“...you didn’t have to go and declare me your consort, though.”

“There were a few different reasons for that,” he explained, “First, the staff at the castle would have to treat you with respect. Second, it gave you a place to stay. And third, nobles who wanted to earn Lord Hideyoshi’s good graces would stop offering me their daughters as brides.”

“...you’re lucky I ended up falling for you anyway.”

“I’ve always felt you had questionable taste.”

“...did...did you just make a joke?”

“Maybe.”

A long silence, before he raised her hand, bringing it to his lips and, after some hesitation, kissing her knuckles gently, after which he pressed her palm against his chest—and his beating heart. Kotoko lingered in silence for a moment.

“...after all you’ve done for me,” Kotoko began, “How could I ever hate you, Mitsunari? I feel like you’re so used to war, to anger, to despair...that even now, you struggle to comprehend someone genuinely caring for you. But it’s not just me. It’s the children. It’s Shiranui. We don’t see the Dark King, or the feared Toyotomi general. We see you. A man who has lost everything, and yet still continues to live. And what we see, we’re willing to do anything for.”

Mitsunari didn’t respond, but his expression softened. He leaned in as she did, and they touched foreheads as he whispered something Koromaru couldn’t hear. Kotoko smiled in response.

After a long silence, the two of them just reveling in each other’s company, Mitsunari straightened up. “Koro,” he spoke.

“I was looking for Shiranui—!” Koromaru instantly blurted out, caught by surprise. Shiranui’s ear twitched, and he opened his eyes and let out a low whine; one of ‘Don’t you drag me into this.’

“You don’t need Shiranui to go back to bed. Now go.” His voice wasn’t as stern as it normally was when giving orders, but he was still serious. Koromaru rose to his feet, staring at the two.

“...Mom’s right, though, dad,” Koromaru said with a light smile, before heading back to bed.

Mitsunari’s mouth hung slightly agape at this, as Kotoko gave a small giggle.

[transboygenius]

SE4SON: Chapter 9

[*Following afternoon*]

Libby and Cindy had just finished school, but before they were ready to go back home, Cindy decided they should dine out for a bit. It was Friday, and Cindy wanted to celebrate the fourth day without Neutron. She didn't even bother to ask herself where he could be, and neither has she felt the same way about Nick, but it's not like she even cared about that loser anyways. A few days without Jimmy Neutron was all she needed to properly recover. She was even in such a good mood, she said hello to Betty Quinlan as she passed. That's right, Betty Quinlan, one of Cindy's least favorites. She has never felt this good since her parents threw her that really, really expensive party for her 8th birthday, one Jimmy wasn't invited to, obviously. She can still remember her father crying from how much money he spent.

Cindy and Libby then stopped at a pedestrian post, where Cindy pressed the button and both waited patiently for the walk signal. While waiting, Jenny passed by them on her skateboard, attempted to jump over a fire hydrant, and then broke her leg. The two girls just shrugged at each other. As the walk signal flashed, Cindy and Libby crossed the street to the restaurant on the other side. It was a Japanese noodle joint called The Ramen Bowl, built in the spot McSpanky's used to be. When they entered, they were greeted by a waitress dressed in a komodo, who bowed in respect. After taking them to their seats, the girls then ordered ahead. Tempura soba for Libby, and regular pork roast ramen for Cindy, with a coupon for a free whole fishcake. Cindy also ordered a few side dishes, such as karaage and onigiri.

"Eat as much as you want, Libby! It's my treat!"

Libby should be happy, if not grateful, having to eat all of this delicious Japanese cuisine without paying for it herself, but she felt in her gut that Cindy is maybe being a little insensitive. Jimmy is still missing without a trace, and his mother is put into a deep struggle trying to find her only son. Carl and Sheen are beginning to mourn over their friend's disappearance as well. Even though nobody else missed the Neutron boy, everything has gone dull without the big headed kid around. Libby couldn't help but also worry about Jimmy. And here is Cindy, smiling brighter than a supernova, celebrating with a big meal spent with her own allowance. A child is missing, and she's acting like she just won the Nobel Prize.

"Aren't you at least bothered by Jimmy's disappearance the slightest, Cindy? I mean, the boy has been gone for four days, with no clues to speculate his whereabouts. It's like he's never gone anywhere and just got erased from reality." "Knowing those cute little goobers he calls his inventions, it could've happened by accident." "What?" "I said it's not even your problem, Libs! So why should you worry? You're not responsible for why Neutron is gone." "Look, as much as I'm not too keen on Big Head myself, I can't help but worry for his friends and family's pain. If I were missing, I can't imagine what shock it'd bring to my folks, loosing their only child they've spent 11 years raising and loving. What if something drastic happened to him? Like, he could be--" "Dead? Ohhoho, c'mon, this is the boy genius we're talking about! If he can survive a daily pummeling brought up by Butch every school day, I'm pretty sure he can survive any wonders he encounters in the big wide world! It would take more effort than a giant chicken, or a league of villains, to kill him!" "I'll give you credit for showing some concern, but this is serious. On top of that, Nick has been gone the same number of days as Jimmy's absence. Don't you find that coincidentally stran-- Hold up, girl. Can you run that by me again?" "It takes more than corny, predictable villains to snuff him out." "NO, before that!" "That he could be out there in the big wide world? Like, lost in space, or maybe a different country. Somewhere."

That's it! Maybe Mrs. Neutron hasn't looked hard enough yet! Jimmy Neutron is no ordinary preteen kid. If he's not on Earth, we know where he would be. Possibly, in a galaxy far, far away.

"Thanks for dinner, Cindy, but I gotta go take a rain check! See ya then!"

Libby got out of her seat and stormed out of the restaurant. Wherever she's going, she seemed inspired. Just as soon as Libby was gone, the food had then been served.

"LIBBY! Oh sure, bail on your best friend. Looks like more noodles for me."

And so to speak, what Libby had said earlier really crossed Cindy's mind. Nick has been gone long as Jimmy has, and just like Jimmy, no clues could be found. According to Sheen's knowledge, they both vanished on the same day. He also mentioned they were handcuffed together the last time he saw them, but how long have they been jointed? A intellectual like Jimmy would have easily gotten those cuffs off his wrists by now, and if they're still handcuffed, finding them would be no needle in a hay stack. What if they're not really missing? As any young stupid boy would do, maybe they both ran away together, as friends or enemies. Cindy's not so certain it's appropriate enough to entitle them as friends, judging from what she's seen from their interactions so far. They never socialized that much, but they never looked like they hated each other either.

Could they be somewhere up on a hilltop, in another country, performing a macho ritual by beating each other to the death for Cindy's love? Nah. Compared to Jimmy's strength, Nick would've easily creamed him, and hell knows it wouldn't last for four days. Plus, she still doesn't know whether or not Nick returns her feelings. Even if he did, she'd date him just to rub it in Neutron's face. It would be out of a crush, but she lost interest in Nick after he became washed-up. Could they be in a faraway state, made a truce, and then started their own business corporation for men who want to get their women off their backs? Nope. Two of them are both still kids, so there's no way they have enough money to open a business. Plus, how would Jimmy even talk Nick into aligning with his sexist organization? Cindy has always seen Nick as a ladies man, despite ignoring his female company.

Could they be stranded on a deserted island together, living at peace, and being happy-- No, no NO! No way! Nuh-uh! Never! That's her and Jimmy's story! She refuses to picture Jimmy being happy with someone else on a deserted island that isn't her, even if it is another boy! Wait, why does she even care? Why should she care? She doesn't love that pompous, self-righteous, know-it-all anymore. She needs to remind herself that he broke up with her for his own "selfishness." Wherever he is, good riddance to him! His whippy dip hair better not turn up in Retroville anytime soon! He can go marry Nick, for all I care! She took her chopsticks and greedily slurped at her noodles, then stuffed some karaage and a rice ball into her mouth. She barely gave herself time to chew her food. With Jimmy reentering her head, the only thing she could do at that moment was eat the memories away.

..............................

[*Seven hours earlier, during medieval times*]

Jimmy and Nick spent the night in a small barn, sleeping on beds of hay, while each had their own blankets. In the barn, they were accompanied by one cow, five chickens, and Butterscotch the horse. Butterscotch had his own blanket as well, including a pillow and a teddy bear. One of the chickens, who happened to be a rooster, woke the entire barn by letting out a good ol' fashioned cock-a-doodle-doo! Annoyed but very tired, Nick slammed his fist down on a hen sleeping next to him, thinking it was an alarm clock. Then he realized alarm clocks weren't exactly invented yet. The angered hen pecked her beak on Nick's forehead as revenge, which really woke him up. Jimmy awakened while rubbing both of his shut eyes. They got up to their feet as they stretched and yawned.

"Morning, little dude. Had a good sleep last night?" Asked Nick. "Not exactly. The hay wasn't all that comfy." Replied Jimmy. "Tell me about it. Sleep was much more comfortable when we were still handcuffed."

The two boys faced forward, and saw Rodent Girl sitting on the window, with a mug in her hand. She was staring at them, and what's scarier was she didn't blink.

"Can we help you, Miss?" Asked Jimmy. "Oh-no-need-for-that-young-gents-me-was-just-watching-you-in-your-sleep!"

And the way she talked, she sounded more energetic than usual.

"Wwwwwhy?" "Mitzi-wanted-me-to-watch-over-you-two-like-a-hawk-and-to-make-sure-there-isn't-any-funny-business-going-on-around-here-do-you-think-of-me-as-some-sick-soul-who-watches-people-in-their-sleep-for-my-own-pleasure-cuz-me-don't-do-that-me-has-decency!" "Mitz- She made you stay up here all night?" Asked Nick. "She-didn't-made-me-she-asked-me-to-she-isn't-all-THAT-mean-and-she-provided-me-with-all-this-coffee! *Sips from mug* Mmmm-this-is-some-good-define-enrichment-too-bad-these-beans-are-very-pricey-but-it's-not-like-we're-paying-for-them!"

Despite the window being opened, she exited through the main door instead. Mitzi really doesn't trust them, Jimmy thought. Will she continue doing this? The boy genius will have to build a door lock, and some shut-in windows, because how will they ever have a goodnight's sleep when some weird lady, that looks like a runaway from the circus, is watching them through the whole night? Or maybe worse; They won't wake up the next morning. And what did Rodent Girl mean by not having to pay for very expensive coffee beans? Well, it's not like all of it will even matter, anyways. Jimmy just needs to gather up the needed supplies, build a new time machine, and get away from this freak show. Also, if Mitzi can't trust them, then the boys have every right not to trust her back.

Nick performed a couple of morning routine stretches to loosen up his joints, since his limbs are still a bit rigid from being handcuffed for three days. Jimmy was inspired by Nick's workout and gave it a try himself, but since he never worked out or exercised daily like Nick has, his entire body went stiff. As much as Nick had the urge to laugh right now, he resisted and helped loosen the small boy's limbs by stretching them out himself. And yes, it was quite painful, but yet Jimmy didn't scream nor cry. Science is the only major he's good enough for, while physical activities are his weakest point. Maybe he needs to put a little more effort in P.E. for a change. Or maybe have a tall, strapping, good-looking guy like Nick show him the ropes- UGHHH, what am I doing? What am I thinking? Jimmy almost found himself infatuated for his new friend. Nick is pretty darn handsome, but Jimmy can't see himself romantically involved with someone of the same gender. Boys were meant to have girls, and girls were meant to have boys. That's what they say and that's how it has always been. Right?

After restoring Jimmy's joints, the two wandered off to find the shed that held all the stuff they need to build a new time machine. It didn't take them that long, and it was actually easy to find. Diana was there, bench pressing a wheelbarrow, the same one they carried uphill yesterday, loaded with a bunch of random junk. Actually, through Jimmy's eyes, they looked pretty useful to make a new time machine with, but they're all probably Diana's, so they should just take whatever is in the shed that will work. When Diana noticed the boys, she held the wheelbarrow midway and greeted them with a warm good morning! Jimmy and Nick returned the good morning back. Jimmy grabbed hold of the door handle and opened the shed wide. His excitement soon died down when he found that the shed was cold empty.

"Uh, Miss Diana, ma'am? Wasn't there suppose to be a lot of things in there you said we could use to make a new ride back to our home?" Asked Nick. "Huh? Oh, sorry about that, boys. I didn't know what time you'd be up by, so I'm using all this stuff for my morning warrior aerobics! I dare not to miss out on one workout, otherwise my thews will become tender-loins!" Replied Diana. "That's nice and all, but may we have them now?" Asked Jimmy. "Not now, at least not until I reach 230,000!" "And how far do you have?" "109,485 more to go!" "What are we suppose to do by then?" "We could always talk some more." Nick suggested. "Well, thee can always head inside the hut for a big, hearty breakfast Benson hast did prepare himself! His cooking's not that good, but it is satisfying. Worry not about me! I'll has't a bite as soon as I'm done here! I never consume food before workouts, because then I'd receive stretch marks and nausea." "Thank you, Diana."

Even though neither Jimmy and Nick were hungry yet, it would be nice to fuel on some protein and nutrients for energy. Actually, back in the twenty first century, Jimmy's "protein and nutrients" were sugarcoated cereals and toaster pastries, which he yearned for right now. Whatever Benson has cooking up, the boys can rest assure the meal will be decent, and overall filling. When they reached the hut, they walked right into an argument between Rodent Girl and Benson. Rodent Girl was talking normal again. The caffeine must have worn off by now.

"PORRIDGE? Again?! We have four hens, why don't we have some eggs for once? Me need protein, not this tasteless gunge!" "Add honey or fruit, if you must. You know we are on a tight budget! And as for those eggs, they are meant to be kept incubated so we couldst breed more chickens. More chickens means more rations to feed this home, plus two new guests!" "What about those two eggs you kept stored in the bottom left cupboard? You don't plan to incubate those, do ya?" "Uh, um, those are saved... ...for an emergency!" "We have an emergency right here, you liar! Me young, me hungry, and me elevating in TEENAGE HORMONES!"

Nick coughed, which then ended the argument.

"My deary me, I apologize you two had to witness that! Please forgive Miss Oona. She's going through a stage of teenage hormones! Or whatever it is that rats develop.” Said Benson. "Don't make me bite you." Replied Rodent Girl.

Nick didn't say anything and just marched up to the cupboard Rodent Girl mentioned the two eggs were stored, which then upset her.

"HEY, what are you doing with MY breakfast?! Just because you're a guest, doesn't mean you have the right to abuse your hospitality!" "Just leave it up to me, gang. I'll be sure to fix you a breakfast that will leave you full until dinner." Nick replied, juggling those two eggs.

Everyone, including Jimmy, was confused as to what Nick could make with only two eggs. By now, he could only fix an omelette for one, and that wouldn't be enough for a house of six to share. But an egg dish wasn't really what Nick was aiming for. He set the eggs down on the counter, and fetched some other ingredients; Sacks full of flour and sugar, a bottle of milk, soften butter, a salt shaker, and a tin can labeled "baking soda." Before he was ready to start, he borrowed Benson's apron. First, he cracked the eggs into a separate bowl, then beated them until they became fluffy and stiff peaks formed. Next, he folded in the sugar and melted butter. After that, he sifted the dry ingredients into the egg mixture. The milk was mixed in last. Everyone in the room watched him like he was putting on a show. When the batter was completed, he ladled some onto a hot skillet greased with butter.

Right before their eyes, he was flipping hot fluffy cakes on the stove, and made just about enough to feed an army. The arousing aroma from Nick's creation whet their appetites. Nick commanded everyone in the room to hold their plates up, and so they did. Wielding his spatula, he tossed the edible disks into the air, and pretty soon everyone's plate was stacked with fresh, thick pancakes. Benson got out some maple syrup, and began pouring. Jimmy cut off a piece and put it in his mouth. The taste was more than delicious. It was sensational. He has never tasted pancakes like this. They were beyond compare to his mom's. Nick sure is amazing. He surprisingly knew how to cook, despite his young age.

"Oooohhh! Hotcakes! You see, Benson, this kid has proven to have much more manlier savvines than you, and he's like, thirteen years old?" Said Rodent Girl, intended to offend Benson. "I'm twelve, actually." Nick corrected. "Nick, I've never tasted anything like this before. I didn't know you could cook. Why didn't you tell me?" Said Jimmy. "Well I thought, since we're friends and all, I wanted to surprise you. You're the first person, in the twenty first century, besides my mom, I've ever cooked for." "Really? Well, surprised I am! You got a hidden depth! You know, if professional skateboarding doesn't work out for ya, you could always land a career in culinary arts! How long have you been at this gig, anyways?" "Since I was nine. My mom works from 9 AM to 11 PM, which means she doesn't have time to fix me a hot meal. She leaves me with all those microwavable TV dinners in the freezer. I wouldn't say they tasted bad, but they certainly didn't taste like dinner. Or food, for that matter. By then, enough was enough, and I was really craving for Mom's authentic Brazilian dishes. So, I took her handwritten cookbook from off the shelf and tried to duplicate some of the recipes in there. I may have burned a little, twice, but I was very young. Eventually, I took a few lessons from Mom, and pretty soon I got the hang of it. As I grew older, I started to improve, and even began experimenting my own original recipes." "Experimenting, huh? Heh, the way you put it out, cooking does seemingly sound just like science. ...in a cultural sort of way."

Nick chuckled. He wasn't laughing at Jimmy, he was laughing with him. His other friends (fake friends, as he would like to call them) would've made fun of and teased him for cooking, since it's not seen as a manly hobby. Nick was a little tense that Jimmy might've ridicule his art as well, but instead he impressed him. Even better, he compared it to the thing he loves the most; Science! If Jimmy can accept Sheen for being an Ultralord fanatic, or Carl for having a llama fetish plus a creepy one-sided crush on his mom to boot, guess he can accept his new best friend being a chef, especially if the food taste good. If Jimmy ever became his, he'd prove himself to be a worthy husband. When he wakes up, breakfast will be on the table, his lunch will be warm, and dinner will still be hot when he gets home. Everyday, he would shower him with his finest desserts, and feed them to his face. But since that will never likely happen, he could always just cook for him as his friend. And his slutty tram- wife could have some too.

Before Rodent Girl was ready to dig in, she tied a napkin around her neck, poured her syrup, and some melted cheese, then positioned her knife and fork. But right there, she fell face down on her pancakes, like she had dropped dead.

"OH MY GOSH, is she alright?!" Jimmy asked, feeling concerned. "She's fine, young man. Her caffeine rush just now blew a gasket." Benson replied. "Has anyone seen Mitzi anywhere? So far we haven't seen her around lately. Unless... (...she's spying on us. ...somewhere.)" Asked Nick, holding a tray loaded with pancakes, and looking around cautiously. "She's currently at work, and she won't return until afternoon." "Well, if she's not here, looks like she's out of luck! Here Jimmy, have some more pancakes!"

Nick stacked some more flapjacks on top of Jimmy's stack, which almost covered his huge head.

"I don't think I can eat that much, Nick." "Just-make-sure-you-don't-leave-any-for-her-if-you-catch-my-drift." "What?"

Outside...

"79,326! 79,327! 79,328!"

Diana was continuing with her bench pressing. Butterscotch was now on the wheelbarrow, with a cup of tea in his hoof, to help add a little more weight. Suddenly, the scent of hotcakes pierced through her nostrils. Smells like Benson whipped up something good for once. However, she refused to give up on her routine until she's finished. Thus far, the more she indulged the scent, it brought her abdomen into grumbles. Looks like she chose the wrong day to work on an empty stomach. Whatever he's serving, it might all be gone by the time she reaches 230,000, and it didn't help that the smell was tempting. Ahhhhh, but who cares anyways? The stuff is probably fatty, full of calories, and could clog up her arteries. If breakfast is gone, she could always settle for meat, vegetables, or raw fish.

"(THE HELL WITH IT!) 229,998! 229,999! 230,000!"

She tossed the wheelbarrow aside, while Butterscotch was still on it. Now's the time to get to breakfast before it's all eaten. Her horse was very disappointed.

"*Neigggghhhh!* (That's a penalty, Missy! A penalty!)"

[the-barrens-are-ours]

Dog Diggity Darn 3

To say Richie was merely infatuated with Eddie when the Kaspbraks moved in next door would be an understatement.

Richie was head-over-heels in love with him

Whoops, Part 3 comin’ out a month later! My bad

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

Ao3

Word Count: About 2,000

Tag list: @geckolover001 You wanting to be on a tag list actual gave me the motivation to finally finish this. Sorry It’s not super great but it’ll be better next time, I promise!

“You got me a dog?”

Richie tried to keep the disbelief out of his voice but it was damn near impossible to do.

School had just ended three days ago, and even though a month had passed since Richie’s beating from Henry Bowers, his ankle was still in a cast. It had been broken from his fall, but it was only a bit more than a hairline fracture. His hand that had been sliced opened climbing the fence had needed a few stitches, but all of his cuts were pretty much healed by now. His concussion was even gone. Richie had spent the last few weeks of school looking forward to a summer of rest, but this was not what he had in mind.

“We think you having a dog would be good for you,“ Wentworth Tozier looked at Richie briefly before turning back to his newspaper. "It’ll teach you responsibility.”

“Plus,” Maggie Tozier looked at her son with a forced smile, “isn’t he cute?”

Richie glanced at the puppy his mother held. It was a tiny black dog with white paws, white tipped tail, and a white stripe down the middle of its face, around its neck, and down its belly. It had deep brown eyes and was practically smiling at Richie with its perked ears, wagging tail, and lolling tongue. Richie did have to admit it was a cute dog.

He also knew exactly what his parents were up to. It was their ingenious plan to give him something to do all summer long that wasn’t bothering them to go places and do things. Wentworth and Maggie preferred to go off and do their own thing, and taking care of a kid was not included in the agenda of any book club or poker party his parents attended. By giving Richie a dog to train and look after, they had freed themselves of having to spend time with their son over the summer since he’d no longer be busy with school work. It was a clever plan, but Richie would have been fine with an Xbox. Though, he supposes a dog still beats being sent to a Christian summer camp again.

“So what’s his name?” Richie asked his parents, scratching the small dog behind one of its ears.

Maggie shoved the dog at Richie, getting him to take it from her, and wiped her hands on her pants as if the dog was dirty. “We decided you should get to name him since he’s going to be yours!” Maggie’s voice had a fake excitement to it that made Richie want to roll his eyes. “And remember, since he’s your responsibility you can’t expect us to take care of him for you.”

"Wouldn’t want to burden you guys with a dog,” Richie mumbled to himself. He rubbed the small dog’s head and it wiggled excitedly in his arms.

Wentworth folded up his newspaper, throwing it down on the table. “Your mother and I are going out for the day,“ he declared. "If he has any accidents inside, you’re in charge of cleaning up after him. If he chews on anything he’s not supposed to eat, replacements are coming out of your allowance. Do I make myself clear?”

Richie scowled, looking down at the dog so he wouldn’t have to face his dad. Figures that the first chance they got his parents were going to leave him alone. “Yes, sir,” Richie mumbled.

Maggie brushed Richie’s hair in forced affection and followed Wentworth out of the kitchen. Moments later, he heard the front door slam shut and lock. He was all alone with a dog he didn’t ask for.

"Bye guys. Love you.” Richie whispered to himself. His parents could have at least had the decency to pretend they were sad to leave their only child home alone all day.

Richie set the puppy down on the ground gently. It immediately looked up at him expectantly.

“I don’t know what you want from me,“ he told the dog. "I can’t offer you much.”

The puppy responded by sniffing Richie’s dirty cast curiously.

Though the cast was annoying and meant Richie needed to shower with a bag over his foot, he was almost sad that it was getting removed in a few days. He had grown attached to it in a weird way. He’d even gotten his friends to sign it.

Stan had written his name in straight and orderly print, Beverly in flowery script with two hearts, and Ben in big block letters with a very happy smiley face next to it. Richie’s favorite signature on his cast was Eddie’s though, written in small, neat print.

Eddie had looked very guilty when he saw Richie walk into science early Monday morning after his encounter with Henry. They hadn’t been able to talk First Period because Richie was too busy explaining his tale to his friend, but when they got to history, Eddie apologized to him again for all the trouble. Richie knew Eddie didn’t make him save him from Henry, but he appreciated the concern. He asked Eddie to sign his cast, and the other boy did saying it was the least he could do for him.

After that day, the two boys, unfortunately, didn’t talk more like Richie had hoped. They exchanged only a few words during history and when they passed each other in the hallway, but they were hardly friends. At least Eddie didn’t dislike Richie anymore.

Sighing, he glanced at the dog that was wandering about the kitchen. “You like me, right, dog?”

The dog, incapable of speech, merely looked at Richie with wide eyes and yipped in response before walking off again.

“Thanks,” Richie mumbled. Picking up the small dog, Richie headed outside onto the back patio.

The day was still young, but the sun was out in full and was shining down heavily upon Derry. Since his family hardly did anything together as a family, there wasn’t much to the Tozier’s backyard. Just a cheap table with a set of plastic chairs that were absolutely disgusting, and an old soccer ball from fourth grade sitting in the unmowed lawn. Sitting down in the tall grass, Richie set the puppy back down. He watched the small dog totter off, sniffing the yard.

“What am I supposed to call you?” Richie pondered aloud, looking at the dog.

The puppy didn’t so much as glance at him in response. It was too busy smelling the fence shared between the Toziers and Kaspbraks.

Richie chuckled to himself. “Me too, buddy. I, too, wonder what dear Eddie is up to today.”

The dog sat down, tilting its head to the side as it stared at the fence. Richie couldn’t help but let out an involuntary ‘aww’ at the sight. His mom was right- that dog was cute.

Richie sighed, leaning back to lay down. The grass tickled and was extremely uncomfortable since it had burned nearly to a crisp under the harsh summer sun. He supposed they probably should water the lawn, but at the same time, doing so sounded stupid as fuck.

Closing his eyes, Richie let his mind wander as his body relaxed and soaked up the warmth of the sun. Unsurprisingly, his thoughts drifted to Eddie.

Richie had been so sure that after the Bowers incident, the two of them would at least be friends. But now, they were awkward acquaintances at best, and Richie wasn’t exactly sure why. Was he that detestable? Did he do something wrong?

Well, surely, the best way to make friends is to not throw up on them and then laugh about it (Richie still sometimes woke up in a cold sweat at night, cringing at the thought of that moment. He was so fucking dumb). At the same time though, he felt that he did some respectable things that day and that the two of them had parted on relatively good terms.

But then again, Richie had admitted that he was practically in love with Eddie, and after creepily staring at him constantly for weeks, that probably didn’t settle well with the other boy. He probably went home and looked up if he could get a restraining order placed on a fourteen-year-old. The only reason it felt like they parted on good terms may have been because Eddie felt bad that he was the reason Richie had the shit beaten out of him. Richie didn’t regret saving Eddie in the slightest, he just wished he understood the other boy’s actions.

Richie groaned in frustration. Feelings were fucking confusing.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there in the grass. Richie must have dozed off at some point because when he opened his eyes again a few clouds now dotted what was once a clear blue sky.

He sat up slightly dazed. His face was burning hot and Richie felt like it may have gotten sunburned. Groaning, he tried to reorient himself and figure out what was going on. Why was he even outside in the first place?

Oh right. He had a dog now.

Richie glanced around the yard, trying to locate the small ball of fluff. The grass was a bit tall, but it still shouldn’t have been this hard to find the dog. It couldn’t have gone far in the Tozier’s small backyard.

Standing up and brushing off his pants, Richie took another frantic look around the yard and froze. The dog wasn’t there.

He had had a dog for less than an hour and had already lost it. He hadn’t even named the dog yet!

“Oh no,” Richie gripped his hair, glancing around the yard desperately. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.”

He tried to think back to the last time he saw the dog. He’d definitely brought it outside with him and closed the back door, so it wasn’t somewhere in the house. The dog started sniffing around the Kaspbrak’s fence when Richie laid and that’s the last time he saw it.

Richie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. That wasn’t very helpful. So what the dog was sniffing around the fence? It’s not like dogs could climb fences like a cat could so it’s not like it could have gone over the fence.

But a dog could have dug under it.

Richie went over to the fence, carefully looking down its length to see if the ground around it was disturbed anywhere. He spotted a hole, about ten feet from his house that went right under the fence. A hole Richie knew was not there before. A hole that looked big enough for a small dog to get under.

That had to be where the dog went- into the Kaspbrak’s yard.

Richie took off back into his house as quick as he could with his casted foot. He unlocked the front door and crossed across his lawn onto the Kaspbrak’s. After awkwardly hobbling up the front porch steps, Richie banged on the front door.

It took almost a minute, but eventually, the front door opened. Eddie raised an eyebrow at Richie.

“My dog,” Richie panted, more out of breath than he realized.

“Since when do you have a dog?”

“Since an hour ago,” Richie explained, “and he dug under the fence and I’m pretty sure he’s in your backyard.”

Eddie stared at him in slight disbelief. “So you got a dog an hour ago, you already lost him, and you think he’s in my backyard?”

“I mean,” Richie nodded, “yeah.”

The other boy sighed. “I’ll go check. Wait here.”

Eddie closed the door on Richie before he could get another word in. He stood there, looking at the door.

It seemed like Eddie was right back to being annoyed with Richie again, which he thought was unfair. He hadn’t done anything to him. Frankly, he also had no idea what to do about it either. How do you even get someone who doesn’t want to be around you to like you?

It took a minute, but Eddie eventually opened the door back up. In his arms, he held Richie’s puppy who squirmed around slightly. Eddie’s face had a beaming smile on it.

Richie sighed in relief at the sight of his dog. “There you are, buddy!”

The dog yipped excitedly and Eddie chuckled, scratching the small canine behind its ear. “Is that his name?”

Richie furrowed his eyebrows. “Is what his name?”

“Buddy. You said ‘There you are, buddy.’ Is he ‘Buddy’?”

Richie debating telling Eddie that he actually didn’t have a name for the dog yet but he already seemed like a bad enough pet owner, he didn’t need any more strikes against him. “Umm, yeah. That’s Buddy. Cute little rascal, ain’t he?” Richie ruffled the dog’s head affectionately and laughed awkwardly.

“He’s so sweet. I wish my mom would let me get a dog. She’s worried that it’d attack me in the middle of the night or that it’d infect me with rabies.”

Richie laughed, but a look at Eddie’s face made him realize that he was dead serious. He cleared his throat. “Sounds pretty strict.”

“Strict is an understatement,” Eddie snorted, “she makes maximum security look like a vacation.”

“Yikes,” Richie grimaced. He looked at the other boy and whistled. “Oh la la, Eds, where are you going dressed like that?” He winked.

Eddie rolled his eyes, handing Buddy over to Richie at last. He was wearing a nice collared shirt with the shortest pair of shorts Richie thinks he’s ever seen. It wasn’t anything scandalous or fancy, but Richie still thought the other boy looked nice. He also noticed the faint pink dusting Eddie’s cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere; just down to the Barrens to hang out with Stan and Bill.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, since when do Bill and Stan hang out?” This is the first Richie’s ever heard of his best friend hanging out with Eddie’s. “And since does Stan hang out anywhere without me?”

The other boy rolled his eyes again. “Do you honestly expect Stan’s life to revolve around you?”

“It beats it revolving around bird books.”

Eddie sighed. “I don’t know when they started hanging out together, I just know they do.”

“Unfair!” Richie gasped. “Why are you the only one who gets to enjoy the merging of our two friend groups? Everyone should be invited! There should be a celebration!”

Buddy yipped in agreement in his hands and Eddie smiled at the small dog. When he looked back at Richie’s face, the smile faded. “Do you really want to go to the Barrens with us that badly?”

“More than anything,” Richie breathed dramatically.

Eddie was silent for a moment, thinking things over. At last, he sighed again. “Fine. I’ll call Bill and ask if it’s fine for you to come along.”

“And Ben and Bev!” Richie chipped in. “If those two are building a dam, no one would know how to put it together quite like Ben. Plus,” Richie lowered his voice and leaned in towards Eddie, “we all know Beverly’s the strongest out of all of us. It’s shameful, but it’s true.”

“Fine. I’ll call you and inform you of Bill’s decision. Bye, Rich.” Eddie shut the door.

Despite just having the door of his crush closed in his face, Richie smiled to himself. He felt like he, metaphorically, had a foot in Eddie’s door. He felt he was getting closer to him, that he was beginning to open up to Richie and stop rejecting and ignoring him constantly. And it seemed to all be thanks to his dog digging over into the Kaspbrak’s yard.

Richie looked down at Buddy who merely panted happily. “Man’s best friend?” Richie asked the pup. “More like man’s best wingman. You and I are going to get along nicely, little guy.”

[hannimble]

Complaints from this House Cleaner (REBLOG THIS)

I’ve been a house cleaner for five goddamn years which is longer than I ever thought I’d do it, because frankly I’d rather be drawing. Still, I’ve worked for some ungrateful pricks, and I see people saying ‘hey, respect retail workers.’ Which is true. This isn’t a competition for who has it the worst.

But if you got a house cleaner who comes over say a few times a week to clean your goddamn house, listen the fuck up.

*deep breath*

WE. ARE. NOT. YOUR. SERVANTS.

YOU are paying US for a service.

We’re happy to clean your house. You might be elderly and need help. Maybe you’re a professional with a full-time job who just needs someone to clean the goddamn bathrooms. I hate bathrooms, too. We all do.

However when a cleaner has done something say, clean the kitchen counter, that does NOT mean you can go ahead and make a goddamn sandwich, dropping crumbs and peanut butter everywhere while I am standing there because hey, I just cleaned it, but I can do it again, right? That does NOT give you the right to then look at me, eyebrow raised, expecting me to wipe both up your mess and your ass like your poor goddamn mother, you little shit.

I get it. You’re probably rich. You think you can do what you goddamn want, that you’re somehow doing me a favour by allow me to enter your domain and scrub up your shit from the inside of your toilet because you couldn’t even be bothered to find a plunger. You’re not doing me a favour, but you are giving me a goddamn headache because you fail to treat your homes with the slightest bit of decency.

So what, you’re a full-time professional? You work hard, you say?

But still you can’t spare the two goddamn minutes it takes to stick your dishes in the dishwasher and turn it on? You instead want to pile it all in the sink so that the house cleaner finds a weeks worth to dishes to do, and she still has to do all the vacuuming and six bathrooms you have, something that could take hours and hours to do? And that’s not even COUNTING doing your laundry?

You can’t wipe down that mess you made on your counter? Instead, you leave it for the house cleaner to find two days later because somehow just five seconds wasn’t enough to wipe it down? Because you want parasites to breed on the counter and heck, who needs food safe?

“Hey, I just finished cooking dinner! Just leave the pots and pans still filled with the leftovers on the stove. The house cleaner when she comes over in two days. Just stick the lid on and you can’t even smell it that meat dish starting to rot!”

You still want to walk into your house and wander around wearing your muddy shoes, when it takes less just a few simple movements to remove them?

It’s simple, folks. Bend down. Untie shoes. Remove them. Place on mat by front door. Better yet, remove them before entering your house.

Wow! Revolutionary! 10/10, best invention since Netflix.

And STILL. After wiping up your mess for 10 hours straight, after doing your laundry, your dishes, your bathrooms…You still have the A-U-D-A-C-I-T-Y to LOOK me in the eye and say, “You took too long.”

I TOOK TOO LONG BECAUSE YOU FAIL TO TREAT YOUR DWELLING WITH THE SLIGHTEST AMOUNT OF RESPECT. BECAUSE YOU DON’T EVEN RESPECT THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO LIVE THERE.

After all, why do anything when ‘the house cleaner will get it’.

You don’t need to thank your house cleaner for their hard work. They’re getting paid, that should be thanks enough, right?

Here’s an idea. After sitting on your couch watching your house cleaner scrub your kitchen for a few hours, how about saying a casual ‘thank you for your hard work’? Instead of sitting there with your thumb up your ass and your nose upturned like I didn’t quite get all the crumbs you left behind.

This is manual labour, you assholes. This is hard, manual, but honest labour. This isn’t the Industrial Age in a goddamn factory. This isn’t ancient Egypt when you got your goddamn slaves at your every beck and call. I’m here because I can get good money cleaning houses and I like helping people.

So, in short.

Treat your house with the respect it deserves. You live there. Other people live there. You don’t need to live like a pig even if you got a house cleaner coming over to spruce it up.

Treat your house cleaners with the same level of respect and human decency you would to any other human being. “But I’m rich I don’t have to!” Yes you do. Amazingly we’re the same species, and chances are I’m not going to judge your mess too harshly if you’re nice to me and grateful for the hard work I put into making your home look good.

If you don’t have a house cleaner, then show respect to the people who clean it, like your mum and dad. Have some basic respect for both them and your house by doing maintenance cleaning, like flushing the toilet, wiping up the counter, and not walking through the house in your dirty shoes.

WE. ARE. NOT. YOUR. SERVANTS.

Be nice to retail workers. They’re not your servants either. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean society owes you.

Be nice to house cleaners.

Be nice to people in general. Say thank you to your gardeners, your doormen, your hotel maids, whatever. We’re not rich people, but we’re hard goddamn workers. Probably the hardest workers you’ll ever meet.

AND WE ARE NOT YOUR SERVANTS.

Sincerely, this ungrateful bitch who takes too long to do a toilet. God forbid the toilet is clean!

Now reblog this and spread the word. The world must know that your goddamn servants are not your goddamn servants.