#do not think too hard about where the blue backlighting on heavy is coming from

[parisoonic]

Partnered up newheadcanon with for this years tf2bigbang ! Send your love their way for the fic (read here!) - I love anything which is a taste of a could-be episode of a TF2 tv show! Coolhorse also did a piece of artwork for this fic too!

[kaylathekittykat225]

Blood Stains on the Couch // Jason Todd X Reader

Warning/s: fluff, some smol cursings

Word Count: 1736

Sometimes you wanna write something that is short and sweet and understandably fluff, so here is my blurb between me writing two giant stories at the moment. Those are coming up, one for Steve Harrington that I’m excited to get out and then another name I am dabbling in for the first time: Anakin Skywalker, so this should all be fun when those finally come up.

Anyway my loves, hope you enjoy this love for Jason Todd, because him and Dick Grayson are tied for my favorite bird boys because I just love them so much for their own reasons and ugh. When you are a writer and you can’t properly use your words to talk about the things you usually type about. My struggle is real guys. It’s rough.

Here’s my Masterlist.

Enjoy.

—–

Jason walked through the door at two am and you were sitting on the couch in your apartment’s living room, watching the TV with a bowl of popcorn sitting on your lap. When you two first moved in together, all he did was complain about how you should trio up with Roy and get a larger apartment for less money for the three of you, but you stood your ground and gave him a hardass no. Just the thought of the two of them living in the same apartment was a nightmare and pigsty enough to imagine, but you also wanted to live at this apartment, so hard pass from your end. For you, this place was home, you had a bed to sleep in, some movies to watch, your boyfriend with you and food in the fridge. There was nothing more for you to want in the world right now.

Sleeping in Gotham gets you used to hearing odd noises at night, and the squeak of the window in your bedroom was one that you didn’t have to jump at every time you heard the glass sliding against the wooden frame. You thought of it now like a bell at the front door of shops that let the workers know that there was a new customer in the store. Only, it's your boyfriend and not a random customer and it's your home and not a store...not a good way to think about it if being honest. Either way, when you heard the sliding window, you looked curiously towards your room.

“Jay?” The entire house was dark besides the lamp next to you on the coffee table and the blue backlight of the TV that you paused while waiting to hear a response. The door swung open before your eyes and a large bulky figure loomed in the doorway, their wide shoulders blocking most of the moonlight from moving further into the hallway. There were no defining features around the person’s head, leading you to assume that it was Jason with his helmet on and being dramatic as possible. “Do you always have to be so dramatic?”

You could hear Jason chuckle through the modulator in his helmet as you turned back to the TV and continued watching March of the Penguins; yes, that is the level of bore and doneness you are facing right now. Jason’s heavy footsteps thudded across the room as he stepped closer to you, all the while you didn’t give him much notice and instead focused on the penguins as they slid across the ice towards the mating grounds they were searching for.

The drama queen you loved and called your boyfriend stood over you, giving you a better look at him now that his features were visible from the front with your lamp rather than backlit by the light from outside. He walked right into the living room so he was still in his patrol uniform: jeans, holsters, hand guns, everything was still on him; his boots were off and he was padding around with just his socks on, because he knew better than to track mud through your bedroom and into the rest of the room. The towering giant you dated looked like a little kid right now if all you focused on was his feet

Looking higher up his body, you noticed how his dark jeans worked well in hiding blood, but you knew how the blood hid itself in the fabric and it was scattered over his thighs. If it was old or new blood, that’s something you didn’t care to notice or figure out, but they were getting to the point of you needing to steal them and wash them before tomorrow’s patrol. His jacket and shirt were pretty clean, he liked it that way and made sure that his good jacket that he has had for years was okay and not dirty. Finally, his helmet, the blood red helmet that scared the living daylights out of you the first time you saw him wearing it. Now you knew better and that it was still him under the hard-red material.

“You just gonna stand there all night?” The question slurred through your mouth, mixing with a yawn as you reached your arm up to him in a welcoming gesture to join you on the couch.

“Depending on if you were gonna keep this penguin shit on.” Jason’s voice was modulated through most of his comment while he unlatched it and pulled his head free from it, finally letting you see his gorgeous features. His eyes were still blocked by the domino mask he was reaching for, but you finally see him; his jaw, his lips, the freckles on his nose. Everything was for you to stare at and happily take in; this, this was the reason you would stay up until four every morning, to see his face coming out of his mask. Also, just to see his face. Because his face is handsome.

You continued to stare at him as he dropped his two masks onto the table in front of the couch, your arm still extended in the air for him to notice. “I am gonna keep watching my movie, its calming and I don’t have to think about too much.” He rolled his eyes at you before he tugged the blanket off your lap and pressed his knee between your legs, wiggling your legs further apart before more or less falling on top of you.

“Jaaaay, you’re gonna get blood on the couch. Go change your pants.” The whining in your voice did not match the threading of your fingers through his thick hair, the white hairs finding their way to mix into the dark ones. He groaned at you pushing your fingers into his scalp, shivers running down his back as you continued to massage your fingers through his hair.

“But you’re so comfy.” He said, his voice muffled from being shoved into your stomach. At this point with his body getting heavier and falling in line with yours, pushing the both of you to not want to move to your bedroom.

A beat of quiet filtered through the room as your movie displayed the stages of life of the young baby penguin freeing itself from its shell, leaving the protective belly flap of its father, waiting for the arrival of its mother. The circle of life as it grows.

Ten minutes passed of Jason tracing patterns into your hip bone just below his nose and you carding your fingers through his hair before you felt his chest constrict as he began to push himself up from laying on top of you. “Baaaaaabe, where’re ya goin’?” Your words held a slur behind them, sleep was begging your body to fall into its warm embrace as it was nearing two am at this point and you had to be awake in the morning for work. But this time was Jason time when you got to see him. And you were now cold with air moving between the space of your legs and his chest.

“You’re the one bitching at me to change my pants, so I was gonna go change ‘em and come back.” His voice was heavy, a trait like how yours slurred, and a yawn midway through his thought confirmed he was just as close to sleep as you were.

“But I said that before you made me get comfy. Now I’m cold.” Your lower lip sticks out in a pout and your arm quickly wrapped over your body to make yourself look smaller, being sleepily angry at him.

“Aw, now we can’t have that, now can we?” Your boyfriend spoke as he leaned forward again, almost like he was going to return to his pillow of your stomach, but as his face got closer to yours, you unhooked your crossed arms and allowed him to plant his head right on your chest. Having to look down your nose at him, you watched, and honestly felt, him rubbing his face into your chest, trying to get comfy on his new pillow. “Mmmm, squishy.”

“I am dating a literal eight-year-old.” Grumbling about Jason’s comment on your boobs, you flicked his ear while your arms moved to wrap around his shoulders and rest on his back. He lifted his hand to your arm and grabbed hold of your wrist, moving the arm you just put on top of him. Todd led your hand to his face and you felt him press a kiss to the inside of your wrist before he moved his hand to twine together with yours and tucking your clasped hands to his chest where you could feel the deep and methodical beating of his heart.

“I am not an eight-year-old, I’m eleven thank you very much.” Small chuckles of laughter filled the air as you lost all motivation to continue bantering and teasing him as your dulled focus turned back to the screen and you were beckoned even deeper into sleep. “Y/N, you should get to bed. You’ll kill your back and you will be angry at me for not moving you.” You didn’t answer him right away, not even the annoyed hum you usually do to him.

He lifted his head to look up at you, finding your eyes already shut Jason connected your slower and more methodical breathing to be you already falling asleep. Sighing, he placed his head back down on your chest and stared back to the TV, finding the narrator’s voice calming and lullaby-like to be the reason you fell asleep would also be the same one that would claim him for the land of dreaming and sleep.

Always the small moments were the ones that define a relationship. It wasn’t always about the fancy dates, the kissing, the loving each other, the sex, or anything like that. Sometimes all it was was Jason coming home from a night of patrolling the city and kicking bad guys into cells and then cuddling in funny ways on your ratty couch. This couch holds many memories, none of them grand or fantabulous, but it was memories of nights like this, when you wake up in the morning with a small ache in your back and the blood stains that transferred from Jason’s uniform to the fabric upholstery of the couch that made you smile.

[kilojulietsierra]

All My Friends Are Heathens - Chapter One - Bright FF

A combination of my stories Dark Side of Me and Blood & Bylines because I apparently couldn't let either of them go lol Just for fun, not sure how in depth it will go.  Mostly focuses on clan life/family dynamics/orc culture an some smutty-ish-ness maybe at some point.

~~~~~~~

Dorghu woke up early, in the dark and alone. He waited a second for his vision to clear and looked around the room, “Devochka?”  When he got no response he hefted himself out of bed and grabbed a clean pair of jeans that had been hung over a closet door to dry. The whole upstairs was dark, as was downstairs, but the kitchen smelled like fresh coffee.

Now he knew where he’d find her, so he dug his cigarettes out of his jacket on the table and headed towards the back door. He saw the blue light, illuminating the deck and Masha nestled into one of the lawn chairs that looked over the back yard.

She jumped as he grabbed the handle and slid open the glass door. “Fuck. D, scared the shit out of me.” Masha looked over her shoulder at him as he slid the door closed. “What are you doing up?” Her voice was shocked but still an early morning whisper.

He walked her way and lowered himself into the chair next to her, lighting a cigarette as he went. “What are you doing up?” He glanced towards the barely there glow to the east and then back to his girlfriend.

With a sigh she relaxed back into the chair and looked back to the tablet in her lap. “Couldn’t sleep. Decided I would look over the numbers from last night.”

Dorghu chuckled, smoke billowing from his nose and mouth, “You’re the only person I know that would get up early, on a Sunday morning, to do math.” He took another drag of his cigarette and ignored her good natured glare.

“Make fun of me all you want, but you’ll like this math.” Her face lit up and her smile took that dangerous turn he enjoyed so much.

“Hmm, that good huh?” With a sigh he slouched back further into his chair and let his head rest back, his legs stretch out and his eyes slip closed.

“Well, it was opening night so probably won’t be this way every night but, yeah. It’s good.”

She went back to tapping and swiping and Droghu smoked peacefully for awhile. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Masha didn’t answer right away. “Too much on my mind I guess. Between the club opening, and everything I need to do today.”

Dorghu hummed but waited for her to continue.

Masha stared blankly at her tablet for several minutes before she did elaborate, “I invited [Your Name] over today. To go with me when I run my errands.” When he still kept silent she added, “You said she wanted to get to know us… or, well… you, orcs, what it was like. She’s seen some but, I thought it would be good for her to see… all of it you know?” Before he could respond she added something else. “She didn’t seem so bad when I talked to her last night.”

Finally he looked at her, his head rolled to the side. She sat with her bare legs tucked up underneath her, her hair a wild mess leftover from their activities the night before and she had put on a flannel shirt he had worn for a few hours yesterday.The screens backlight did strange things to her pale complexion and illuminated her crystal blue eyes to the point they looked like the glow came from within them instead of the device. “Fucking beautiful.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it was the truth and the look on her face as she combed her hair back with her fingers and turned away from him was worth it.

He sat up enough to reach across the small table between them and pluck the tablet from her grip. “Put this shit away.” he set it on the table and grabbed her by the sleeve of his shirt. It took a few stern tugs but finally she came willingly, standing up and shuffling her bare feet across the wood deck to settle into his lap. Her legs barely fit on either side of his as she straddled him but she quickly found a comfortable position and let her slight weigh sink into him. Automatically his hands circled her waist, his thumbs rubbing over the softness of the flannel now covering her upper thighs as well. “She’s intimidated by you, she thinks you don’t like her.”

She snorted, “Never said that.”

Dorghu chuckled and squeezed at her hips, “You are right though, it will be good for her to go with you today. Good for both of you I think.” He moved his hands to her back and began long, slow passes up and down, swallowing a growl when she melted into him and rested her forehead against his. His hands kept it up for quite some time, over her back, thighs, her neck and shoulders, back and forth down her slim arms that hung crossed behind his neck.

When he felt her lips against his brow he took a deep and steady, relaxed breath. He chuckled when she did it again and made a particularly firm pass up her spine in response.

“What are you laughing at?” Her voice was hushed and breathy. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“Nothing.” Dorghu slid the fingers of one hand up the back of her neck and into her mess of hair to massage her scalp.

Masha let out a throaty humm, “Don’t lie to me.” Her breath was shaky.

He chuckled again. “You might not want to hear what I was thinking.”

“Try me.”

Dorghu slid his hands back down, over her ribs and hips to the bare skin of her thighs. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again.” He drug his thumbs over the muscles under his hand. “Never thought I’d feel this way about anyone after... let alone a human.”  He chuckled again and leaned his forehead into hers with more force. Even cracked a smile as she returned the pressure, knowing exactly what it meant as she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck.

He continued to smile as she kissed over his brow, as her nails scratched lightly over the back of his neck, but when her lips continued over his temple his body tensed and when she took the point of his good ear into her mouth it sent a shock straight through him. So much so that, without conscious thought, his hands clamped down on her waist drug her center over the slight bulge in the crotch of his jeans. When she moaned he felt it in his ear and in his spine and repeated the motion again, grinding her over his lap. “Fuck, I need you.”  He groaned as Masha switched between sucking and licking at his ear, “Fuck...” He rocked her hips over him again and again, taking her little gasps as encouragement, “You know I had plans of how my morning would go”

Her breath came out hot but cooled the damp edge of his ear, “Oh yeah?” She moved from his ear to the side of the neck, sucking and biting, rolling the thick skin between between her teeth before sucking it into her mouth.

“Mhmm. I was going to wake up early and pull you back against my chest,  immediately bury myself balls deep into this beautiful pussy, then stay there all fucking morning.”  To drive his point home he grabbed her wrists to hold behind her back as he ground his now very obvious, very hard and very large erection up against her.

He repeated the action three more times until he released her hands, only to have them claw at his bare chest and shoulders as she retaliated with long, slow rolls of her hips. “You should have thought about that before you got so rough last night.” She grabbed one of his hands and slid it under the hem of the way to large shirt and between her legs.

His face fell as he brushed the rough pads of his fingers over her still raw and swollen lower lips. “Fuck baby.” Dorghu traced over them gently, “It’s all that fucking dresses fault. Put some nasty thoughts in my mind, watching you strut around all night.” Even the memory was getting him all worked up. “I’m sorry.”

Her smiled grew dark and dirty, “Don’t be.” She leaned down to brush her lips over his and lick the length of one tusk,.”Why do you think I picked that one to wear?”

This time he didn’t bother suppressing his growl as he dug a hand back into her hair and slammed her mouth back down against his. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.” He swallowed one of her moans and pulled her body more flush against his. She hissed a little and shot her hands up to grab his face and cover the tops of his tusks. At one point he pulled back for air only for her to hook a finger around one of them and drag his face back up to hers. Dorghu let out a deep, dark chuckle, almost as dirty as the smile on her face. “Or I can make it up to you now.” The words were mumbled against her lips but he got his message across by slipping his tongue into her mouth and showing her exactly what he meant.

Masha chuckled through her nose and nipped at the tip of his tongue as he withdrew it. She sat up straight, hands coming to rest on this bare chest which rose and fell with heavy, aroused breaths. “We’re both awake early we should be taking advantage and be getting ready for the shit show that will be arriving in a couple hours.’

Dorghu was focused more on undoing the few remaining buttons of the shirt she wore. Once he had them open he hoisted her up so she was sitting on her knees over his lap. “Sounds like a good idea.” Then he grabbed a handful of asscheek with one hand, her right breast with the other and sucked a hard nipple into his mouth with a moan of delight.

“Not even close to what I meant.” Masha laughed but cradled his head closer to her chest for a moment before she pushed him back. Before he could protest she removed herself from the chair and his reach.

“You’re an evil woman.” It took all his focus to keep from lunging after her as she returned to her own chair. He waited for his muscles to relax and his blood to cool down before he hoisted himself to his feet and grabbed her cold coffee on his way back inside.

It seemed the sun had rose on fast forward when he returned a few minutes later with a fresh cup of coffee. He set the coffee cup on the small table between the chairs before he grabbed her up and settled into the chair with her, her shirt rebuttoned, her back to his chest and her head leaned back against his shoulder.

They sat in silence, him smoking another cigarette and her sipping her coffee. Dorghu traced senseless patterns on the side of her bare knee with his free hand until the sun was two fingers past the horizon and Mikey slid the back door open.

“Good Morning.” Mikey stayed half in and half out, leaned back against the door frame.

“Morning Son, You’re up early. “ Dorghu flicked an ash into the tray as Masha sat up a little straighter in his lap.

Mikey looked to the floor and then back, “Yeah umm, Kai was wondering if she could come over early today and help out with everything.”

Masha examined him over the rim of her coffee cup, “She doesn’t have to do that, she can come just hang out if she wants. I’ll be gone for a few hours but she’s welcome to come over.”

“Oh no, she wants to help. Breakfast, the kids, lunch, all of it. She likes it.” The smile on his face looked almost painful it stretched his cheeks so wide.

“What do her parents think of her spending all day over here.”

Masha added, “With a bunch of gang bangers.”

Dorghu jabbed her in the ribs but didn’t argue the point. It was true.

His son’s smile grew more than Dorghu thought possible, “She asked yesterday, they said it’s fine as long as my parents are here too. Plus, her Dad made a big deal about how Kai says she always feels safe with me, especially over here, even with the guys around. So, he doesn’t worry as much. Like I said she likes it, coming over here and feeling like a part of the clan.”

Again Masha chuckled into her cup before she could answer with a straight face, “Well it’s okay with me but it’s up to your father. It’s his house

Dorghu looked sideways at her, “Kai is welcome in our house any time. Especially Sundays.”  

“Awesome!” Mikey yelled, “Thank you!” and then ducked back inside only to reappear a second later. “Hey do you think I could take…”

“Keys are in it.”

“Thank you Masha!”

This time when he disappeared he stayed gone. They listened as the garage door opened and Masha’s Caddy hummed to life. They continued to listen until the car was too far down the street to be heard. “Don’t look at me like that. Let him drive it while he can. Before, he’s too big and heavy.” She laughed but stopped when he didn’t join in. “What?”

Dorghu shook his head and took another pull of his cigarette, “I love you.”

She stood up from his lap, smiling, “And I love you.” She dropped a quick kiss on his scarred upper lip. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

He watched her grab her tablet and coffee and walk back in the house before he snubbed his cigarette out in the tray and went into the kitchen to start breakfast.

~~~~~~~

“Well if you don't want to go then don’t go.”

“I thought you said I can’t not go. That it would be rude.” You continued to pace through and around your kitchen while Nick sat at the table and watched.

“It would be.” He sipped at his smoothie.

You paused to look at him but immediately resumed your pacing. “She didn’t say that I had to be there. It was more like ‘you should come’ which… never mind I’ll go.”

He nodded and gave you an encouraging smile. “Good.”

When you took a sip of your coffee your stomach did a flip. You weren’t sure if it was the hangover or your apparent aversion to seeing Dorghu’s scary girlfriend again so soon. “Who am I kidding? I can’t spend all day with this woman! I’ll just tell her something came up.” Nick didn’t say anything and you sighed, coming to a stop across the table from him. “I have to go don’t I?”

He remained silent for a bit and then, “Masha… Well, if she were an orc she’d be, like the alpha female, the… the clan mother....” Nick gave you an understanding smile, “This is like her personally inviting you into the clan. Not just around the edges like before but actually into the family. Her family. For a human… especially one dating me… it’s kind of a big deal. “

At that moment your coffee was the most interesting thing you had ever seen, but you couldn’t bring yourself to drink it.

~~~~~~~

You thought your nerves at the club the night before were bad,  in your kitchen that morning were terrible, but this was easily twenty times worse than both instances combined. The house was bigger and nicer than you expected but still nothing fancy. The neighborhood wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, of course there really was no such thing as ‘ordinary’ in LA.

There were two Escalades, a jacked up, blacked out Chevy Silverado and then a Dodge truck you recognized as Dorghus all parked in the driveway and a fancy little Cadillac XLR pulled into the open garage. You couldn’t help but wish you had convinced Nick to skip work and come with you but that wasn’t what Masha had said when she invited you.  So, you came on your own. Which you had convinced yourself would go just fine, right up until you rang the doorbell.

From inside you heard a muffled, “Mikey!”

Followed by a slightly less muffled, “Got it.” Two seconds later the door swung open and there stood Dorghu’s son. “Hey [Your Name]! Come on in.” He stepped out of the way so you could enter the house and then shut the door behind you. “Here, everyone’s in the kitchen. Have you eaten yet?” He led her through the living room and around a long dining room table towards a counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area

The tension almost evarapted from you body entirely when you saw Nessa come around the opposite side of the counter, bouncing a hefty little orc boy on her hip as she went. “Hey! Glad you came!” She reached out the arm that wasn’t supporting the little one to give you a quick hug. “No Nick?”

“Working. He said he’d come by after if it was still going.” You smiled and gave the little boy a wave, only to have him bury his face in Nessa’s neck.

“Aww. Don’t mind Hale, the only human he isn’t shy with is Masha. He’ll come around. C’mon.You want some coffee? Or breakfast? We got all the best hangover food.” She whispered that bit behind Hales back like a secret, “ Pancakes, bacon, eggs, venison sausage, fried potatoes...”

“Coffee would be great.” You followed her the rest the way into the kitchen were you found To sitting at a smaller kitchen table.

“There she is.” He stood half way out of his chair to give you a hug which you happily returned.

Nessa went into the actual kitchen, still with little Hale hiding in her shoulder, where Masha and another young orc girl were working. “Kai can you take him for me?” She handed the little boy off. “Kai this is [Your Name], [Your Name ] this is Kailene. Mikey’s girlfriend.”

The girl smiled and waved, “Hi!” She hefted the little boy a few times to get him settled and then asked him in a silly voice, “Should we go see if Mikey’s Dad needs help outside? Hmm?” The boy giggled as they trailed after Mikey towards a set of glass, sliding doors you assumed led to a backyard.

“Here sit.” Nessa handed you a cup of coffee and pointed to the table. “Sugar is there, there might be cream in the fridge if you need it.” She smiled and nodded before going back into the kitchen.

You watched as she took a much smaller orc child from Masha. “Here’s her bottle, do you mind? So I can get cleaned up and go.”

“No problem, come here beautiful.” Nessa took the baby and the bottle and came to sit across the table from you and Tolar.

Masha continued to straighten up the kitchen and then washed her hands before she came to pick up a half empty coffee cup on the counter by the table. “[Your Name], glad you came.” She downed the rest of the coffee in one go, “I’m just gonna run and grab some stuff out of the office then we’ll go.” Halfway out of the kitchen she turned over her shoulder, “If you’re hungry go ahead and grab some pancakes. Otherwise To and Mikey are gonna eat them all.”

Tolar mumbled something in Orcish, loud enough for her to hear, around a mouth full of food, and she threw a remark of her own right back at him which had everyone laughing except for you. Even the baby waved her arms as Nessa giggled.

When Nessa glanced up and saw your face she cocked her head to the side, “Girl, you really should start trying to pick up some of the language. I mean you are dating one of us now.”

You groaned, “I know...My friggin Godfather is an orc, you think by now I’d know more than ‘hello’, ‘good-bye’ and ‘thank you’.”

To shoved half a pancake in his mouth, “Have Jakoby teach you “

Before you could reply the screen door slid open and Mikey came running inside, chased by Hale on his ungainly little legs, who was being chased by Dorghu. They were all laughing, Hale’s more like squeals of pure joy as he ran around and around the living room trying to catch Mikey and avoid being caught by Dorghu.

Before either of those things could happen Masha appeared at the bottom of the stairs and snatched up the littlest orc mid run. His squeals doubled as she hoisted him up, arms and legs flailing.  When Dorghu came up behind Masha he grabbed her around the waist, picking them both up and carrying them into the kitchen. The whole while pretending to growl and snarl at the toddler over Masha’s shoulder.

You couldn’t help but smile and be completely floored by the sight of Dorghu and Masha laughing and playing. It was so, so far removed from how you normally saw them. Masha was still laughing when Dorghu let go of her and let her slip easily back down to the floor. “Okay little one,” Hale was still trying to growl back at Dorghu as Masha carried him into the kitchen. She said something to him in Orcish as she set him on the kitchen counter and re-tied his shoe. The little boy nodded vigorously and said something back to her, just a few words. Masha smiled, tucked her bangs behind one ear before she held her hand up for a high five.  

She helped him down off the counter and he immediately resumed chasing Mikey, and now Kai, around the living room. “Somebody make sure he eats something, please.” When Masha looked your way she was still smiling and you felt oddly out of place, but not as nervous as you had fifteen minutes ago.

This Masha seemed like night to day with the Masha you had seen last night. The skimpy club dress and heels had been replaced with jeans, an oversized t-shirt that hung off one shoulder and a well worn pair of white tennis shoes.

“Okay, you heard Hale, he’s in charge while I’m gone. No matter what the big, scary one says.” She walked back to Dorghu and gave him a quick kiss on the scarred cheek. “Anyone need anything? If you think of something call. We’ll be back before the game starts.” She grabbed her phone and a set of keys off a small table by a side door in the kitchen and nodded your way, “Ready?”

You jumped up, took one more sip of the extremely strong coffee and nodded “Yeah, ready.” You followed her out the kitchens side door and into the garage. When you saw the fancy car again you realized it must be hers.

When you stepped up to the passenger door she waved you off, “Oh, no, we’re taking one of the Escalades. We’ll need the extra room.”

~~~~~~~

[wildefiction]

Of Course...Mr. Collins

THIRTEEN

Thursday came and went with little excitement, Misha leaving you to your own devices as he was briefed on that weekend’s convention schedule. You spent the day sun-bathing, napping and texting your sister about your first day in Hawaii.

Friday morning, you woke to the incessant buzzing of your phone. Cracking one eyelid, your vision slid into focus as you noted the annoying black device vibrating towards you along the table. Groaning, you winced as the backlight blinded you. It was six in the morning. 

“So much for this trip being a vacation, hah.” 

The six text messages surprised you and you began to scroll through them, expecting them to all be from Misha. Only that man would wake up six hours before the convention was due to start.

To your surprise, only five of them were from your boss. The sixth, was from Norman.

“Hey [Y/F/N], how ‘bout that ride today? ; )

Your heart fluttered for a moment, chills running down your arms. Sure, he’d said he’d text you - but you hadn’t actually expected him to. Your hands shook slightly as you typed out a quick response.

“That would be awesome! Let me get back to you after I check in with Mish. Woke up to five messages from him!”

Switching back to the group of messages from Misha, you sighed in relief when you realized they weren’t urgent. There was a picture of the sunrise and the beach where he’d gone running. The third was him letting you know the cast was getting together for drinks that night, asking if you wanted to go. Then one mentioning he was on his way back to the hotel, and finally one asking if you wanted coffee or tea since he was stopping anyhow.

The last message had been sent five minutes ago. Hurrying to respond, you asked for an earl grey latte before throwing the phone down on the bed and moving to find clothes for the day.

Fifteen minutes later, a dull thudding sound coming from across the room had you pulling the door open to see Misha, two paper cups in hand and a brown bag clenched in his teeth. Laughing, you grabbed the bag from his mouth and moved back, allowing him to join you in the room. 

“I grabbed some of those bantam bagels and a breakfast sandwich for you to go with your tea.” We’ve got a few hours of work ahead of us, but I figure if we get done by lunch, you can have the afternoon off. Did you want to go tonight?” 

Realizing you hadn’t answered that text, you quickly agreed. 

“Of course! I’m super excited to meet everyone!” Clutching the warm drink in your hand and raising it to your lips, you drank deeply of the caffeine before eyeballing the paper bag you’d set down on the table.

Misha wandered into his room to grab the laptop from his bag. 

“Here [Y/F/N], I’d like you to book us tickets to San Francisco for the first week of December and make the travel arrangements. I’m due at the convention Saturday morning, so we should probably get in Friday afternoon. The convention takes care of our hotel, but you should send the co-ordinator an email if you want your own room, they usually need a bit of notice for that kind of thing.”

With a bagel stuffed in one side of your mouth, you nodded in understanding as you pulled your tablet out and began writing a list of the things you needed to do.

“When you’re finished with that, do you think you might be able to find me something to wear to the luau tomorrow night? A fun shirt or something? I’m thinking my usual just isn’t going to cut it. Pick something nice up for yourself too while you’re out.” 

As you opened your mouth to protest, Misha held up a hand, effectively silencing you. 

“Before you say anything, just consider it a signing bonus.” “Think you can be ready by, say, nine?” 

Nodding as you scribbled the notes on your list, you moved out onto the balcony, deciding to work on booking flights in the sunshine. 

“Sounds good Misha, want to meet for lunch later?” 

“I’ll actually be out most of the day, if you need me feel free to send me a text.” Reaching into his back pocket, Misha pulled his wallet out before rifling through it for a moment and then selecting a card and handing it towards you. Taking it from him, you were surprised at the heaviness of it. The black and cobalt gradient running over the front wrapped around the metal rectangle. Flipping it over, the card number and identifying information were printed neatly in the bottom corner. 

“Kindly send me a screenshot of the flights you find before purchasing them please.” 

“How much do you want me to spend on your shirt, sir?” You were still writing notes and didn’t look up to see Misha’s body language quiet as he watched you at your task. 

“Whatever you like. I’m sure you can figure out what is and isn’t appropriate.” Snapping your head up, you rose from the chair as Misha turned from the room. 

“Uh, no. You just gave me a credit card and I’d have a hard time spending thirty dollars on a shirt, so, I mean, can I at least have a range?! And, I don’t even know your style, what are you looking for?” 

Misha turned as your cool fingers touched his skin and he smiled at the apprehension on your face. Grabbing both of your hands in his, he looked straight at you, demanding eye contact as a smile spread on his face. You stilled as you looked back at him - damn if those eyes weren’t easy to fall into…

“I have complete faith in you [Y/F/N], pick something that you’d like, doesn’t have to be fancy. And keep it under two-hundred?” “You’ll do fine.” With a final squeeze to your hands, he turned again and disappeared back into his room, leaving you with your assignments.

Settling into the table, being warmed by the morning sun you dove into searching for flights immediately, comparing the differing airlines and seat arrangements. As simple as it seems, you enjoyed this kind of work. It kept you busy while placating the organization skills that you couldn’t function without. Within the hour you’d found suitable flights for a pretty decent price and took a screenshot to send to Misha. Your phone notification sounded almost immediately; “Well that was fast,” you mused - sliding the menu screen open.

“Busy, busy eh? How about that ride?”

At first, you were confused, thinking it was Misha that had responded so quickly. Realizing it was Norman, you cursed to yourself. You’d completely forgotten to text him back. Glancing down at the clock, you noted it was only almost eight.

“Wanna meet for lunch around eleven?”

Another text. This one from Misha. 

“Try again [Y/F/N] - how can I utilize your assistance properly if you’ve put yourself in coach?” “Dates and times look good though, just update your seat and send me the confirmation.” 

He’d included his email address in the message. You sighed, but made the changes he requested anyhow before clicking on the checkout button. Buzzing twice in a row, you picked up your phone and saw that Misha had received the confirmation, and Norman had responded:

“It’s a date” ; )

Crossing the flights off of your list, you moved on to making travel arrangements. Several driving companies surrounded the airport you planned to fly into and you quickly made reservations with the best reviewed. After shooting a quick email to the convention organizers requesting two hotel rooms, you closed your laptop and gathered everything before heading back into the dim, air conditioned room.

After taking a quick shower and blow drying your hair, you stepped back into your room to get dressed. Settling on a pair of cut-offs and a Zeppelin t-shirt, you pulled a pair of boots from the closet you’d finally managed to unpack now that it was halfway through the week and laced them up over your socks. While the warm weather made wearing heavy boots less comfortable, one thing you’d remembered from growing up on the back of a bike was that you had to wear good shoes. Technically, you should’ve also worn pants, but you needed to be at least a little comfortable.

As the last hour ticked by, your nerves began worrying at you, and try as you might to calm them, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t startle when a heavy knock sounded on your door. Wiping your hands against the denim covering your thighs, you rose to answer the door.

“Hey, hey sweetheart, ya ready ta go?” Norman stood before you, dark Ray-bans wrapped over his eyes; a black hat pulled down over his shaggy auburn hair. 

Grinning widely you turned to grab your phone and wallet before closing the door behind you. 

“So, where ya wan’na go? Throwing an arm across your shoulders, he led you down the hallway.

Walking out to the parking lot, you waited as Norman swung one of his long legs over the seat of his bike, slowly backing the machine away from it’s parking spot. Looking up at you, he smirked as he waited for you to join him. Stepping up to the edge of the curb, you straddled the now rumbling monster, balancing yourself with one hand on Norman’s shoulder before seating yourself behind him. With a twist of the throttle, the bike lurched forward, and you pressed yourself against his broad back, gripping his waist with only your thighs as he accelerated out onto the main road.

Pulling into a Hawaiian barbeque place fifteen minutes later, you steadied yourself on his shoulders as you stood up from the bike. 

“Ya like bar-ba-que lady?” The deep voice reminded you of the bike you’d just stepped off of and it sent a chill through your body as the smell of smoked meat drew you to the front doors. 

“Uh, does a bear shit in the woods?” Norman laughed as he held the door open to let you pass through. 

Sitting down at the outdoor patio, you attacked the brisket and pulled pork you’d ordered from the run-down little establishment. 

“So, where’d ya learn ta ride?” Norman sat across from you, momentarily taken aback with the obscene sounds that drifted from your body as you savored the food before you, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Opening them at the question, your face reddened as the man across from you removed his sunglasses and fixed you with his light blue eyes. 

“Blue, just like Misha’s, but lighter.” You mused to yourself before answering. 

“My dad. I spent a lot of time on his bike growing up. He was a Harley guy too.” Norman grunted in appreciation as he continued eating. Eyeing your t-shirt, he rose an eyebrow, “ya like Zeppelin eh?” 

Grinning, you nodded enthusiastically, launching into an animated discussion of your favorite songs and how you liked a lot of classic and modern rock.

Over the next hour, you talked about everything from the weather to relationships - good and bad and your hobbies. You learned that, while they filmed in Georgia, Norman actually lived in New York and spent a lot of time sculpting and painting when he was home, which wasn’t very often. 

“I always wan’na be doin’ sum’thin.” “Get kin-a res’less if I’m in one place too long, ya know?” 

“Sounds like a helluvan adventure actually.” 

Rising from the table, the two of you made your way back to the front of the establishment before climbing back on the bike. 

“Ya can hol’ on ya know. I ain’t gonna bite cha…” 

“Oh, but biting’s excellent - it’s like kissing, only… there’s a winner!” You laughed, but wrapped your arms low around his waist, sliding your hands under his vest to splay your fingers over his muscled abdomen. 

“Well then, darlin’ I’ll hafta keep that in mind.”

The next several hours flew by in a blur, you and Norman spent the time driving along the coast, stopping occasionally to sit in the sand and watch the waves crash over the beach. At one point, you stopped to pluck a plumeria blossom from one of the fragrant trees that dotted the park you were walking through, carefully tucking it behind your right ear. The yellow and white flower striking against your [Y/H/C] hair. 

Reaching into your back pocket, you took your phone out and flipped on the camera, taking a picture to send to your sister back home. This island was so amazing, you almost didn’t want to go back. 

“Hey, Norman, can we take a picture? My sister will never believe me if I try to tell her what I’ve done with my day.” 

Chuckling, he ambled over, throwing an arm around your neck and pulling you harshly against his side. Taking your phone, he held it up in the air before releasing the shutter a couple of times. 

“Alrigh’, one more.” Turning the camera sideways, he squeezed you closer into his side and as you looked up into the screen, he turned and pressed his lips to your cheek right as he hit the button. Blushing to yourself, you took the phone back from him and mumbled a thank you as you busied yourself with sending her the pictures.

Upon returning to the hotel, you checked your phone again as you said goodbye to Norman, with the promise to text him later. You were surprised to see there were no messages from Misha, he must be busy you thought to yourself before heading for the outdoor shopping area.

Drifting in and out of several shops trying to decide what to pick up for Misha was pretty challenging, but you ended up settling on a blue Hawaiian print shirt that was nearly the same color as his eyes. Gods that man had beautiful eyes. You’d never seen anything like them. Perhaps you were a bit biased, but you’d always been attracted to guys with dark hair and light eyes, and that rough stubble peppered over his jaw certainly didn’t hurt.

Checking the time, you noted it was nearly seven thirty and you still had to find yourself something to wear. After trying on several things you finally asked for help from one of the sales associates in a store filled with dresses. 

“Hi, I’m looking for something to wear to a beach party tomorrow night, something nice but not too formal? Your [Y/E/C] eyes searched hers and she smiled back before bustling out from behind the counter to dig through the racks.

When your phone began ringing, you quickly answered Misha’s call, holding the device up to your ear. 

“Hey, [Y/F/N], you  gonna be ready soon?” Pulling the phone away to glance at the time, you cursed under your breath when you noticed it was quickly approaching eight. You’d never been more happy that you had showered that morning. 

“Uh, yeah, give me twenty? Oh! Wait, that stuff you wanted me to buy is for tomorrow right? Not tonight?!” He laughed through the phone and assured you that was correct. 

“Come in whatever you’re wearing now, we’re just going out to a few bars after all.” 

Promising to meet him at the room, you spent another ten minutes choosing between a couple of dresses the woman had suggested and paid for your purchase before flying back through the shopping center and up to your room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

[mvssmallow]

Memento Vivere

Part III

Masterlist

It’s…..his son.

His son?

His son.

He stumbles back; heart racing, thoughts crashing, dizzy, disorientated and completely out of breath. It takes him a full 7 seconds to realise he’s having another panic attack. It’s not even 9 am yet. Fuck. 

Pancake-Addict looks up at him with a curious and progressively wary look, like it’s suddenly dawning on her that he is a total imposter in the family. 

Keep it together you idiot. She’s gonna cry.  

He leans forward to grab the top of the crib for balance. It’s a heavy piece of furniture made of sturdy thick wood and re-inforced brackets. There’s nothing flimsy or fragile about it, even though it was painted a powder blue. It doesn’t really look like something Hanbin would choose; it reminds him of something that he himself would probably pick out if he ever had a kid of his own. 

But you do. 

Does he?

This was getting too confusing. A mindfuck of the highest order. 

“We change him daddy?”

He looks down, eyes flitting between the baby in the crib and Hanbin’s daughter leaning against his leg. 

He can do this. He can. How hard can it be?

Clearing his throat he addresses her in his best ‘dad’ voice (who knew he even had one ?!) 

“Can you show me how?”

Weirdly enough, it works. She toddles around the room pointing out everything that she’s obviously seen Hanbin use. There’s a constantly running commentary because she just chatters non-stop. He should be paying attention, because this is actually educational, but he can’t help smiling at how impossibly, unbearably, adorable she is. Hanbin must be some kind of freakish super-parent to raise a kid this patient and polite. He thought all 5 year olds were tiny t-rexes who just destroy everything and get their grubby hands all over his stuff. 

Maybe Pancake-Addict is different. She’s Hanbin’s kid, she must be.

Taking a breath, he leans down into the crib and runs his fingers lightly over the soft silky hair on Jae’s head. The gummy toothless smile he gets in return blasts right through him like a cannonball. It hurts. It’s completely foreign and he can’t explain why but it seems important so he files it away somewhere in the back of his mind to think about later. 

Jae is heavier than he thought. Wriggly and heavy and way too mobile for a baby. Or maybe this is completely normal for a baby. How the hell would he know? He’s never held one before. If he was actually someone’s dad, he’d remember this right? 

But he doesn’t remember anything. 

It’s awkward. He’s holding a still-sleepy Jae at arms length and it must look weird because there’s a lot of giggling in the room. It’s half-humiliating and half-endearing but he doesn’t mind it. It’s a nice sound and he kinda likes that he can make the kids laugh. 

Despite his best effort, he can’t remember where anything is in the room. He’s got Jae half sitting-half-held on the changing table when it happens again; that toothless gummy baby smile that comes out of nowhere to punch him in the gut. 

Goddammit. 

Who the hell is this kid?

There’s a flood of emotions washing over him again. He’s tripping out. He’s not a dad. This isn’t really his son. It’s all some weird dream that he’ll wake from any minute now. 

And yet, he can’t stop smiling and staring back. The cow-print onesie is a little bunched up so he tries to straighten that out. The 3 strands of hair on Jae’s head are sticking out at weird angles and no matter how much he tries to smooth them down, they just stick back up again. An unexpected surge of misplaced paternal pride shoots right through him. 

“Huh. My hair kinda does that. This is some weird genetic sh-”

“JIWON!”

He whips his head towards the doorway to find Hanbin glaring at him. Who knows how long he’s been waiting there. He doesn’t dwell on that thought for too long though because the morning sun is pouring through all the open windows and in that one moment, the backlight creates a halo around Hanbin’s body. He looks just like the guy he was once in love with. Halo and death glare and everything. 

But it’s still so hard to look at Hanbin. All it does is make his gut twist again. Only this time it’s not out of happiness but an aching, bleeding nostalgia. 

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t even know what to say. “I was just....talking to him.”

“I was helping!” The Pancake-Addict says, still leaning against his leg. 

It softens Hanbin’s face immediately. “Were you?”

“Yes! I showed Daddy the baby things!” 

Hanbin laughs and steps into the room to pet her head. “You’re such a good big sister. Can you go downstairs and show daddy how you want your pancakes?”

“I thought you wanted me to get him up and-”

Hanbin shakes his head. “I’ll do it.”

Ever since he heard Hanbin’s voice and detected his presence in the room, Jae has been holding his arms out to be held. Hanbin smiles softly at his son and picks him up. It looks so natural, like he’s done it a million times already. 

It leaves his own hands empty. It’s a strange kind of loss, mainly because he wasn’t expecting it to feel like a loss at all. 

“Sorry.” He says, feeling guilty all the sudden. “I just....it’s a weird day and I-”

“We’ll talk about it later. I did the mix already, just go make the pancakes. You can still do that right?” Hanbin asks, eyes searching his face but hands tending to Jae like he could do all this in his sleep. 

“Yeah, I can do that.” He says. 

Hanbin nods once before his eyes narrow at something behind them. “Minji! Don’t touch that! What did I say about putting things in the sockets?”

Minji. 

Oh. So that’s her name. 

He didn’t even realise that she left his side. Some dad he is. 

Hanbin’s making exasperated sounds now and that’s probably his cue to go deal with the pancakes. Minji backs away from the power sockets and sheepishly walks over to lean against his knee again. 

“Come on, let’s go.” He says to her, grateful when she actually follows. 

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Hanbin asks again, his face now clearly worried and for a split second, it seems like the truth is going to spill out again. 

No I’m probably not gonna be okay. I’m an imposter in your life. We’re not even meant to be together. We broke up months ago. And now I wake up in your house with your family and I don’t remember anything. I’m probably never going to be okay again.

But he doesn’t say that. 

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

[writtenbybigoceans]

Just you and me pt.4

Finally getting into the drama now lol sorry it took so long. Masterlist with earlier parts available here. hope you enjoy it x

*

Your heart is in your throat as you face the ultramodern entryway of the skyscraper. You tilt your head back and squint at its peak, hoping to discern it from the fluffy clouds that skitter across the sapphire blue morning sky but it makes you dizzy so you look back the lobby, take a deep breath to calm your fluttering heart, and push the stroller with Noah in it across the pavement and through the doors.

A dark-haired receptionist with a dazzling smile greets you, holding her finger up with an apologetic look as she answers someone through her headset. You take a moment to look around you, pointing out the fountain seemingly made out of instruments with water spouting from them to Noah, and scanning the framed photos and plaques hung at eye-level around the room. There are hundreds of the same bright-eyed man shaking the hand of various stars and accepting awards. You’re beginning to wonder if you’ve seen him before when the receptionist interrupts your thought.

“How can I help you?” she asks kindly.

“I’m here to meet with Shawn Mendes,” you tell her.

“Ah, I see. What was your name? I just need to check you’re on the list of people allowed in the studio.”

“Yeah, Y/n Y/l/n.” Her fingers clatter across the keyboard.

Noah gasps from his stroller, pointing across the lobby.

“What is it, baby?” you ask, crouching beside him.

“Y/n!” someone calls out from across the room. You look up to see Shawn striding across the white-tiled room, a familiar bright smile on his face.

“Hey, I’m glad you came,” he greets you as he approaches, smiling at you in a way that makes your breath hitch and the fluttering start in your chest again. He waves to Noah before addressing the receptionist.

“Y/n has full access to the studio, any time I’m here she can come in with Noah.” The receptionist shoots you a quick inquisitive look but nods. Shawn turns back to you and gestures for you to follow him.

Noah wriggles to be unclipped from his stroller so you let him out and follow the two of them into the lift.

“Can I press the button?” Noah asks as the doors close. Shawn nods with a grin and lifts the boy up, pointing at the number 6. Noah beams as the button lights up.

When they ding to open, Shawn takes the toddler’s hand and walks him down the hallway, pointing out different photos and room and telling him about them. You follow behind, watching the pair of them. You didn’t expect for them to connect so quickly or for Shawn to be natural with him but watching them now it felt like he’d been there all along, learning how to be a parent alongside you. For the first time in years, a tiny bubble of hope was swelling in your heart.  

“And here,” Shawn announces, placing his hand on the last door, “is where I work.”

He pushes the door open and walks in, holding it open for you to follow. Noah darts in, quick as a flash, you follow more hesitantly.

“Ah, Shawn, you’re back,” a lady says from the desk, her back turned. “We think we’ve fixed that thing-“ she stops abruptly when she sees the people with him. “Oh, I didn’t realise you’d be here so early.”

Everyone in the studio stopped what they were doing to look at the newcomers and a heavy silence falls across the room.

“Oh my God, Y/n?” a man’s voice says from the back corner. Nick looks flabbergasted as he stares at you. “God, it’s been years. How are you?”

He strides across the room and sweeps you into a tight hug before you can reply.

“Really well, I’m surprised you remember me.”

“How could I forget you? God, Shawn, I didn’t know when James told us you might have a guest it would be Y/n.” Shawn shrugs with another of his sheepish smiles.

“You probably don’t remember me; a lot has changed,” the woman who first spoke when you walked in the room says.

“Charlie, of course I do.” You smile and hug her too before Nick speaks again.

“And who’s this little guy?” he smiles at Noah, who’s shifted himself behind Shawn’s leg.

“This is Noah,” you introduce him, smiling encouragingly at him. He waves shyly at all the people looking at him.

“He’s yours? Who’s the lucky guy?” Nick chuckles, echoing Shawn’s words from the supermarket. You blanch, turning to look at Shawn.

“You haven’t told them?”

Shawn blinks, his mouth popping open like a goldfish’s.

“I thought James would have.”

“What are you talking about?” Charlie asks, a frown settling on her face.

“Noah is-“ Shawn is cut off when the door swings open again, and a stocky middle-aged man steps through the door. You instantly recognise him as the man in all of the photos in the lobby.

“Oh,” he says, seeing all the people staring back at him. Finally, his eyes land on Y/n and Shawn, and the tiny boy behind him. His face goes as white as a snow, as though he’s seen a ghost.

“I see you’re already here,” the man says.

“Apparently you’ve forgotten to tell us something, James,” Nick says, eyes flicking to the man.

“Have I?”

“I thought you would have told them I was bringing my son to the studio,” Shawn answers with a slight frown.

“Your son?!” comes the collective gasp.

“But how?” Nick asks, stunned. “How long have you known?”

“Only a week.” At there incredulous looks he adds: “It’s a bit of a complicated story.”

“Shawn, can I talk to you for a minute?” James interjects. Shawn looks surprised but follows him out into the hall, leaving you to face the shock and questions alone.

“You didn’t tell him?” is the first question from Nick.

“I tried to but-“ You break off, thinking about how you can explain to them. “It really is a complicated story.”

“Start from the beginning.”

*

Another heavy silence lays thick in the room, making it hard to breathe as they absorb the story you just told them. You’d barely managed to stop yourself from crying throughout, how many times would you be forced to relive the hardest part of your life? Noah giggles from across the room where Charlie is showing him all the buttons on the boards.

“And you still have all of the texts too?” You nod at Nick’s question. “Damn, I can’t even imagine what you must have been going through. And you really believe Shawn didn’t send them?”

“You didn’t see his face when we saw him in the supermarket, he really had no idea. I don’t know who those messages came from or how it happened but I really don’t think Shawn was behind them.”

Nick nods but he looks withdrawn.

“Do you believe me?”

“I do, I just don’t know who would have sent those messages. Who cares if Shawn has a kid? It’s not going to stop his career or ruin him. You were dating when you got pregnant too, it’s hardly much of a scandal.” He runs through the scenarios aloud, eyes distant as if he’s lost in thought.

The door swings open again and Shawn steps back through the door, his face stony.

“Hey man, what was that about?” Nick asks cautiously.

“Nothing really, just something I needed to think about.” He catches sight of Noah on Charlie’s lap and his eyes soften. “Do you want to have a go on the drum kit?”

An hour goes by and Noah is tired out from all of the excitement. He falls asleep curled up on a couch at the back of the room, you sitting right beside him. Shawn is back at the microphone behind a wall of soundproof glass, singing his heart out. You’re mesmerised by the intensity of his focus and the way his eyes squeeze shut as he hits the powerful notes. Again, that little bubble in your chest is swelling, but it doesn’t feel like hope this time. It feels like something you only feel when you look at your son. But it isn’t. It can’t be.

The spell breaks as soon as Charlie calls for a break and Shawn takes his headphones off. He’s just walking out of the soundproof room when the main door to the room bursts open for the third time in the last two hours.

The tall silhouette is backlight so intensely by the fluorescent lights of the hall and you’re temporarily blinded until the door swings shut. An incredibly tall and slender woman with glossy platinum hair cascading over her shoulders and square-framed designer sunglasses perched on top of her head stands in the wake of the shut door, bright white teeth beared in a dazzling smile.

“Shawn!” She exclaims, dashing to him and throwing her arms around his neck. He catches her, somehow, his arms wrapping easily around her tiny waist. She pulls his face to hers, meshing their lips together messily in front of everyone. Your stomach drops.

“I missed you so much!” she cries out as she drops her feet back to the floor. She turns back to the rest of the room, smiling as if she was embarrassed by her sudden show of affection without actually being sorry at all. “And it’s lovely to see all of you again. Sorry to barge in but I couldn’t wait.”

The team smiles weakly back at her, a few offering small ‘hello’s and ‘nice to see you again’s.

“I thought you were getting back later tonight,” Shawn murmurs to her.

“I was but I changed to an earlier flight so I could come and surprise you.”

There’s a tiny moan from behind you. Noah pushes himself up from his curled-up position to rub his eyes and blink blearily around the room. The girl’s gaze falls on him and then on you as you reach down to pick him up, hoisting him up on your hip.

“Uh, Abigail, this is Y/n and Noah,” Shawn introduces you, voice tense. She glances inquisitively at him and then back at you.

“Nice to meet you,” she says. “How do you know my boyfriend?” Boyfriend.

“Oh, um-“ you stutter. Why does your chest hurt all of a sudden?

“I didn’t want to say anything until you got back, I was going to tell you tonight.” Shawn interrupts.

“Tell me what?” she asks, a coldness creeping into her tone.

“Y/n is an ex. Noah is her son,” Shawn says quickly. “And my son too.”

“What?!” she cries into a dead-silent room, her lipsticked lips falling open in a perfect ‘O’.

[delta-roseblr]

30 Day OC Challenge: Day 27

Surprise, It’s Ficlet time!

Today’s prompt is From a Lover’s Eyes:

Dean woke up to the sensation of warmth and the heavy weight of Felix’s arm slung over his side. Dean would have never thought he would get used to the idea of sharing a bed with someone, let alone another guy but he had. The fact that Felix stayed over at his house at least a few nights a week definitely probably helped with that, but it had gotten to the point that Dean felt weird sleeping by himself. Felix was just so warm and he smelled so good. Dean didn’t even mind being the little spoon, if by not minding he meant he secretly loved it but was not going to say that out loud.

Usually when Felix slept over Dean slept like the dead and struggled to wake up even to his alarm so the fact that he was even aware of the buzzing was weird. It took him a solid to realize that the buzzing didn’t sound like his alarm clock and it was Saturday. Groggy and annoyed he fumbled for his to grab his cell phone off the nightstand while trying not to disturb Felix who was still sleeping.

He found it easy enough although he was confused when he saw that he didn’t have an incoming call. It didn’t make sense because the annoying buzzing was still ruining Dean’s cozy morning haze.

Why hadn’t the person just given up already, he thought with annoyance as he just barely resisted the urge to turn into Felix’s warmth. What could possibly be so important?  

It hit Dean all at once, he jolted up in bed and snatched Felix’ phone off the nightstand. The backlighting of the screen illumined Dean’s worst fear: Felix’s dad was calling.

“Fuck!” Dean hissed out loud. He was supposed to bring Felix home at some point the night before but they lost track of time and must have fallen asleep. The whole excuse for Felix coming over was that they were studying which was probably not believable anymore in light of yet another impromptu sleepover. Felix stayed over a lot, probably too much to be considered normal for two teenage guys that were just friends. Felix’s dad didn’t seem to be catching on to their relationship status, he had to be beginning to suspect something was going on. The man wasn’t a complete idiot. “Fuck!”

Next to him, Felix stirred slightly as Dean stared at the screen frozen with uncertainty. “Mmm,” Felix groaned softly, Dean felt warm fingers brush against his back right near his hip. “What’s wrong?”

Dean turned to look at Felix sprawled on the bed next to him. He was laying more on his back then his back now which proved Dean quite the view. His dark hair was tousled and stood in stark contrast to Dean’s faded blue sheets. Felix wasn’t a quick to rise type and this morning was clearly not an exception as he was obviously working to shake the last vestiges of sleep. Still, his hazel eyes shone bright, almost gold in the low light of Dean’s bedroom. The night before they had been fooling around a little (alright, more than a little) and fell asleep soon after (Dean guessed) so they were both just in boxers, or in Felix’s case briefs, snug briefs. Dean was certainly wouldn’t complain about the view but in the moment, he really couldn’t enjoy it. “We fell asleep.”

The phone continued to ring making Dean feel jittery. Why hadn’t Felix’s dad just given up already? Dean wondered with annoyance.

Still, sleepy-eyed Felix grinned with a lazy sort of self-satisfaction. “I think we earned it.” He replied, even though his voice was still thick with sleep Dean couldn’t help but hear the pleasure in his voice.

“Your dad is calling,” Dean explained turning the phone in Felix’s direction so that he could see the screen as evidence. “I never took you home last night.”

The last signs of sleep cleared from Felix’s eyes but it wasn’t replaced with the general sense of panic Dean was feeling. Instead, Felix grinned and held out his hand wiggled his fingers at him demandingly, “Gimme.”

Dean’s stomach seemed to twist at the mere thought of Felix actually answering his father’s phone call but handed over the phone without protest. Felix took the phone and tapped at the screen a few times before bringing it to his ear. “What the fuck!” Felix groaned into the phone his voice filled with a groggy sort of annoyance.

Dean could hear Felix’s dad talking but couldn’t make out his actual words. Felix listened with what appeared to be barely contained disinterest. As he did he stretched which was just cruel. Dean’s eyes wondered even though he knew they shouldn’t, it really wasn’t the time. But as Felix stretched his smooth skin pulled tight over hard plains of muscles which practically rippled with the motion.

“What do you mean where am I?” Felix questioned into the phone seemingly aware of the little show he was putting on or how Dean couldn’t keep his eyes off him. How could he honestly be expected to, Dean wasn’t blind.

One of the first things that had struck Dean about Felix was how attractive he was (yeah, Dean probably should have realized he was bisexual a lot sooner than he did), and since they started dating it had only gotten better because now Dean got to see Felix naked. Oh, and Felix was one of those people who just burn all his clothes because his perfect form really shouldn’t have been masked by all that fabric. Years of sports had given him a muscular build, soccer gave him tone legs and lacrosse had given him killer arms and shoulders. See Felix naked probably should have made Dean feel out of shape but all it did was ignite a burning deep in his gut and filled him with the urge to touch.

“We talked about this,” Felix declared still speaking to his dad in a stereotype insulant teen tone. “It’s good to know how much you listen to me when I talk.”

Felix had a scar below his belly button from having his appendix removed a few years before. It was faint, even if Felix said it looked like someone had tried to gut him. Dean knew that was Felix way of expressing insecurity about it, which was beyond stupid. Dean liked the faint scar in a strange way. Before really thinking Dean reached out and gingerly ran his fingers down the faint line until it disappeared under the waistband of Felix’s briefs.

Dean felt Felix’s eyes on him almost as soon as his fingers grazed against skin. Dean would like to say he went to pull his hand back out of some sense of modesty (or really inappropriate timing) but that wasn’t it at all. Dean didn’t trust himself to stop, and it would probably be a bad to jump his boyfriend when he was on the phone with his dad. He glanced up to find that Felix was, in fact, staring at him with that look. Dean was pretty sure all the blood in his body rushed south but he managed to mouth the word Sorry.

Don’t be, Felix mouthed back with a wicked smirk.

Dean really needed Felix to get off the phone before he actually died from arousal.

“I have no idea when I will be home,” Felix spoke into the phone just as Dean felt his fingertips grazing his lower back. The affectionate gesture seemed to be in direct contrast to Felix’s annoyed tone but it was still nice. “Since I told you I wouldn’t be home like five times I figured I didn’t have to rush.” Felix let out an exaggerated sigh that Dean swore he only did with his dad. “Do you want me home now? I can go wake up Dean I guess.”

Dean might have stopped breathing in an attempt to hear Felix’s dad response but it didn’t work. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Felix declared before disconnecting the call and tossing the phone aside.

Dean looked toward Felix feeling disappointment, “So, you need to get home?”

Felix snorted dismissively, “Fuck no,” he declared as he stretched again (he really needed to stop doing that). “Perks of my dad never listening to me is I can pretty much lie and say I already told him things and he believes me.” Felix sat up in bed and pressed a kissed Dean’s shoulder. “So no need to pout, but there is a need for you to lose those boxers you’re wearing.”

Dean brightened up a lit at that (how could he not). “You wanna….?”

“Are you going to ask that every time?” Felix retorted teasingly and Dean assumed rhetorically. Felix kissed him again, this time on the soft spot behind Dean’s ear. Really, it was everything Dean could do to not shiver from the touch. He didn’t have to look, he could feel Felix smile against his skin before declaring with clear excitement, “And fuck yes I want to.”

Dean grinned and turned so he could meet Felix’s gaze. “You’re the best!” Dean declared before pressing his lips against Felix’s (Kissing a guy was so much better then Dean would have ever suspected, or that could have just been Felix). Felix chuckled for a half a second before kissing him back. It took maybe the length of a heartbeat for the kiss to turn into something hungry before the fell back into the sheets.

Dean really wished every morning could start just like this.

[twoteaspoonsofsuga]

An Open Book (Thommy Fanfic) Chapter 30 (Epilogue)

AN: AHHHH. This is it! I just want to say a massive thank you to the people who have followed this story till the end. It's my first time telling a feature length story like this! I hope to god I did well! I'm so glad I fell for these characters again! I was thinking of some spin offs. Life with the Bloomsbury lot, a story of the time Thomas was given a child to look after from London during the war. Let me know if you would love to hear that. But for now! The epilogue! I apologise in advance for the sadness! Don't hurt me

All my love! Liv <3

Previous Chapter,  A03.

29th March 1941

The night after Miss Woolf died, Thomas had taken Jimmy to bed, wrapped him up in his limbs and refused to let go. When he felt the need to relieve himself, Thomas would follow him into the bathroom, sit on the side of the sink and rub his tear red eyes.

Jimmy found himself unable to cry. He didn’t know why. He was numb to it all, he felt like someone had popped the happy bubble and he was falling. Nevertheless, he held Thomas strong, fingers laced in his hair and rocking him as a new batch of tears came.

“I talked to ‘er. Just a week ago. Kept saying real…unhappy things. I didn’t catch on.” “Like wha’?”

Thomas sighed shaky and played with the cotton of Jimmy’s sleep shirt. “I dunno jus…” he seemed to struggle.

“Ey…you don’t ave to say nowt.” Jimmy rubbed his back. “I know it upsets yer.”

“God think of Leonard…I can’t. I can’t even imagine if you…” he swallowed and turned his eyes up to Jimmy. Thomas was still as pretty twenty years ago, blue eyes, bright with tears and his hair was starting to whiten in places, by his temple and streaked on the sides. Wrinkles were starting form by the corner of his eyes.

And he was so beautiful to Jimmy.

And warm.

And alive.

“Don’t think so ‘ard. You’ll send yerself mad. Leonard’s got family. He’s got us. Leonard will be alright. We’ll make sure of it yeah? But fer now…you’re me first stop. It’s you that on me mind.”

Jimmy cupped his cheeks. Thomas cracked a watery smile.

“You know…she told me that she wished she had babies. We was talking about it. Me an Miss Woolf. Talkin about how neither of us was gonna have babies.”

Jimmy suddenly felt a sinking in his chest. A guilt. Like he knew it in his bones, Thomas brought Jimmy’s fingers to his lips.

“She told me she were sad about it… how it woed her that she’d built no legacy. I told her that her words were that legacy. She got all lovey in the eyes, held me face and asked me if me and you would carry it forward fer her.” He his voice hitched. “I din’t even think but now I look back it’s like I was giving her the nod out. Tellin’ her it was okay to go.”

“Thomas…stop.”

“What if I had a part in this? What if… What if I…”

The man was crumbling in Jimmy’s arms. The only time the writer ever saw him like this was in that hospital when he thought Jimmy was gone. And then in that courtroom when he thought he’d never see him again.

Jimmy kissed him, he kissed him so hard that Thomas gasped. Then he pulled away, pressing his lips ever so careful to his forehead. “Shush…if she were talking like you tell me then she’d already decided before you got to ‘er. Stop blaming yerself for things you have no control over. Miss Woolf, The Duke…none of it was you.”

Thomas sniffled and let himself be pulled into the crook of Jimmy’s neck. “I love you.”

Jimmy smiled threading his fingers into his hair. “I love yer too…soppy git.”

Thomas snorted.

/

December 25th 1945

By the grace of god, neither Thomas or Jimmy had been sent to battle. They had, however, stayed home and opened a convalescence house for the soldiers who returned. Many of whom were injured and suffering heavy mental issues. After years of service as paramedics come therapists, the two decided that as soon as they could they would buy a house back in the country side, live and work from it. Be alone.

They missed the sleepy, mysterious Yorkshire Moors.

After the war ended and the weight began to be lifted off their shoulders, Thomas couldn’t help but think to the future. Now 52 and Jimmy 48, they would soon be thinking about settling down into something permanent. Soon their older counterparts in the Bloomsbury Group would grow too old and leave this Earth and they needed to find security.

And Thomas found it. A beautiful cottage deep in country, small and remote enough, but near enough to civilisation that they would not be complete alone.

He bought it without question. Without a word to Jimmy.

“Jimmy, Home is wherever you are. Merry Christmas. Thomas.” Jimmy raised a brow as Thomas siddled up to him on the sofa. He went to rattle the box, but Thomas steadied his hands.

“No jus’…open it yeah?”

Furrowing his brow, Jimmy pulled the neatly tied bow sand lifted the lid. His eyes flickered from the box to Thomas, wide.

“No, you…” he plucked out the brass key and turned it over in his hand. “Y’ didn’t actually…”

“We can see it in the new year…an’ if you don’t like it, we can always rent it out or…” Jimmy shook his head overwhelmed and placed the key back in the box,  as he shut the lid he pulled Thomas in for a slow kiss under the warm glow of the fire.

“I’ve never deserved yer. Not fer a moment.”

Thomas shook his head. “What you jus’ said were daft and you know it.”

He pulled him in for a hug, even now Jimmy would climb into his lap and hold him closer, Thomas had figured out by now that it was to keep him from pulling away. And Jimmy liked to be wrapped up in his arms for hours.

/

30th June 1946

Jimmy stood by the long mirror, tilting his body back and forth as, unbeknownst to him, Thomas sketched him from the arm. Jimmy slumped and sighed, squishing his skin and then pulling it taught against his skull.

He turned to Thomas who was engrossed in the lines of his shoulder blades.

“You think I’m lookin’ older of late?”

Thomas furrowed his brow. “You’re lookin’ prettier of late?”

Jimmy smiled a thankful smile but carried on pulling at his skin. “No but I mean it. All these wrinkles. I aint the looker I once was.”

“You’ll never not be gorgeous.” Thomas closed the sketch book and placed it on the side table. He rose and swept over to his man kissing along his shoulder. “If there’s anythin’ that you taught me about myself, it’s that I’ll always be beautiful to your eye. An’ tha’s how I feel when I look at you. Like I’m lookin’ at my ‘ole world and it’s a beauty to behold.”

Jimmy hummed, a slight blush colouring him pastel pink. “Y’know you should be the writer… you say such pretty things.”

“I can do pretty things as well,” he tugged Jimmy’s backside back against his crotch.

“Yer filthy minded y’know.”

“You shouldn’t stand there lookin’ so shaggable then…”

Jimmy laughed as Thomas backed him against the mirror with a deep, languid kiss.

/

9th May 1949

It was an angry looking sky. The grey kind that had the sun as a fearsome backlight. The flame of its rays seemed ready to explode, to bust open the clouds and let them rain down over the hills. And Thomas and Jimmy walked below it, through the Yorkshire lanes, fearless in each other’s company.

Jimmy’s hair streaked grey and covered by his old flat cap. Thomas’ by his new fedora.

“An eighth novel to go with yer three poetry collections. Yer unstoppable, love.” Thomas chuckled, and they wandered close to one of the rocks edges.

“Mm, I’ve good muse, aint I?”

“The Moors?”

Jimmy laughed “You. Y’great dunce. And careful near the edge of there.”

Thomas rolled his eyes and pirouetted. “You mean ‘ere?”

“I mean it Thomas.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Used to be me who’d fret all the time.”

“Yeah, well…when there’s war an’ ruin an’ you ‘ave summet t’lose…it changes a man.”

“Jimmy…”

And then it happened. As Thomas leant on his right foot, the ground came out from underneath him…the rock broke and sent him tumbling and clattering down the rocks until he landed at the bottom with a crack where his head met the rock.

For a moment Jimmy couldn’t move. Frozen in shock. But when the caw of a raven sounded above he was shook from his mind into reality.

When he finally got down there Thomas was half conscious and bleeding from the head. When he finally got him home and called a doctor all seemed well enough. A bandage and some rest.

All seemed normal for now.

/

 March 7th 1952

The warning signs began to show in the spring of ’52. One bright day Jimmy walked into the lounge to find Thomas staring blankly at the canvas. His face void of expression.

Jimmy cocked his head.

“Thomas?” Thomas jumped and turned to him.

“Oh…hello.” “Y’alright?”

“Yeah, but we should get goin’ back to the Abbey soon…they’ll be hell ter pay if we stay away too long.”

Jimmy cocked his head. “The Abbey? Downton?” he laughed. “Thomas, we aint been to the Abbey in years.”

Thomas furrowed his brow. “Huh? Oh yeah.”

Something cold was trying to seep into Jimmy but he pushed it away, refused it point blank. “Love, you’ve been working too hard…c’mon come t’ town with me. We need some things from the grocers.”

Thomas nodded looking pale and troubled and stood up taking a deep breath and going to find his coat.

Jimmy looked after him, his core shaking.

/

January 13th 1954

Things kept happening. Thomas would go missing for hours. He’d forget how Jimmy took his tea or where they were or to blow candles out before bed.

But the turning point was one morning. Jimmy awoke him with a kiss and Thomas scrambled away from him apologising. It took an hour for Jimmy to reassure him that he was okay. That Jimmy was his and that he loved him. That he wouldn’t run and tell the bill. It took him a whole hour. After 33 years.

And so, Jimmy had finally given in and took Thomas down to the doctor.

At first, he wasn’t allowed in the room. He wasn’t legally his family.  But, Dr Harvey called him in the office after thirty minutes and took Jimmy to one side.

“Mr Kent, you say he has no kin?” “A sister but she lives in London…why.” “It’s just that…”

Jimmy’s heart sunk.  “Jus’…tell me.”

Harvey looked at him with a sadness behind his eyes. “My Kent I believe Thomas is showing the early stages of vascular dementia.”

A feeling washed over Jimmy like icy water. Much of what he heard after that came in fractured pieces.

“May suffer with small strokes.” “He may start to forget…”

“…set up a plan.”

Jimmy couldn’t really focus on any of it. The diagnosis was clear. Thomas would die. More than likely, he would die not knowing Jimmy from John down the pub.

Thomas was fading fast and they had a few years at best.

When he got Thomas home, the artist cried. Jimmy refused to let himself do the same. Must have told Thomas a thousand time that he loved him and that he was with him till the end. When Thomas finally surrendered to exhaustion…Jimmy allowed the tears to fall. Shaking to the bone and gripping his husband tight.

/

1955

Things started to dissolve bit by bit. Memories dripping away from the canvas, colour draining. The hardest hit for Thomas came when he found his sketchpad under a pile of Bloomsbury books. He flipped to a page, Jimmy through a mirror and tilted his head to the side.

“These’re beautiful…did you do ‘em?”

Jimmy shook his head. “N-No they’re yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yeah…you’re an artist. A bloody brilliant one at tha’”

Thomas narrowed his shadowy eyes. He picked up a pencil from the kitchen table and found a blank page.

An excitement shifted in Jimmy’s stomach as he watched his man’s pencil hover over the paper. But with wrinkled brow and lost eyes, Thomas seemed to be at a loss with what to do. He tried to put the pencil to paper, one, twice and again, but he couldn’t. The wood trembled in his hand.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jimmy stood. He took the pencil and held the man’s head to his chest as he shattered.

/

1956

In some ways it was easier when Thomas forgot Jimmy. It was easier for Thomas not having the weight of guilt around his neck and it was easier for Jimmy not be the source of his sorrow.

Ella became the person Thomas would ask for. She would come as often as she could bare. But something in Jimmy couldn’t let her see him like this on the regular. He was her rock…her big brother and he was dying. So, Jimmy would be the one with him. Up to 90 percent of the time.

When he asked Thomas who he was, the elder would simply reply.

“I dunno…but I love you?”

The love was the one thing that never waned.

/

7th July 1957

Jimmy always knew it was coming in the end. As was the inevitability of life. It didn’t make it any easier for him.

Around the end of June, Thomas stopped being able to eat. He grew weaker by the second until the early morning of the 7th when he was awoken by the sounds of soft whining. Jimmy sat bolt up, he caressed his husband’s cheek and asked him what was wrong. Begged Thomas to let him help.

In response the elder clutched his wrist, stared up at him with huge child like eyes. “I want the clearing.”

“The-the…”

“Me an’ Ella used t’go…it’s so pretty there…the water. Trees. Take me t’the clearin’.”

The pain in his voice was too much. With the heaviest heart, Jimmy fulfilled what he thought to be Thomas’ last request. He called in a favour from the Abbey.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Mr Branson, It’s James…J-James Kent?”

“Jimmy? Oh! Call me Tom me man…we’re more like acquaintances now! How-How’s our Thomas?” There was an extended silence. “Jimmy? Are yer there?”

“I…I need a favour.” His eyes glanced to Thomas… slumped on sofa in an uneasy slumber.

“Oh? What would that be?”

/

Later that day

Branson glanced back through the wing mirror as the writer cradled his lover in his lap. Thomas’ breaths were shallow, barley even there, his lips dry and his eyes doey, still he smiled as he glanced up at the man who held him.

“Yer very pretty…”

Jimmy glanced down at his love…pale as a ghost, voice hollow as scream in an empty hall. “So are you.”

Tom said nothing, though he felt lump form in his throat. He saw not two men committing sin, he just saw two men. That was it. Two men who loved each other just as dearly as he loved his late wife.

He would get them to this clearing if it killed them all.

/

Minutes Later

They had finally gotten Thomas to the clearing by the time the sun was setting. Both Jimmy and Branson, aging as they were, found the strength to carry the frail man, all wrapped in blankets, all the way to the spot were the lovers had begun to fall for each other.

Jimmy settled onto his knees on the forest floor, Thomas held in his arms like a small child. He rubbed his back, kissed his palm and drew his hair from his eyes.

“Would yer like me ter stay?” Branson asked quietly.

“No…” Jimmy rasped. “But if I’m not back in the hour…come find me. I’m scared once ‘e goes I’ll- I’ll find a place t’jump off an’ never return.”

Branson closed his eyes but nodded, he let a hand rest on Jimmy’s shoulder. “I’ll be down the way…”

Once he was gone from sight, Jimmy finally opened is eyes and he found Thomas looking out upon the scene.

“Wow…” he breathed.

The light came through the trees in beams of orange light, bouncing off the spring and making it sparkle like liquid crystal. The wind weaved through the oak soft as a whisper and found itself tangled in locks of their hair.  Owls hooted and birds twittered between the branches, humming their goodnight lullaby.

It was perfect. It was perfect in all aspects but one.

Jimmy let out a shaky breath and let his tears fall. One hand still buried in Thomas’ hair, the other covered his face. He was going… his love was really leaving him.

“So beautiful…”

It was only when Jimmy looked down he realised Thomas was speaking about him. His eyes turned up to him, now glassy and unseeing.

His time was now, his flame had flickered out and Jimmy held him way after the life left his body. Because though his lungs had breathed their last, Jimmy’s love remained steadfast.

/

July 12th 1957

Thomas would have never believed this. His funeral pulled in masses. Writers, Artists, Earls and Jimmy and Ella at the forefront. But Jimmy for once in his life had no words.

So, it was up to Ella Barrow.

“I can’t do words much, not like my brother or his…partner in crime.” They laughed. Jimmy couldn’t. His lover. His husband. His world. That’s what they were to each other. But Ella could never say that aloud.

“My brother was…is the most selfless, stubborn, strong, brilliant, blessing that ever entered this world. We could spout things like ‘His life will go on through his work’ ‘He will never be forgotten’ and while in some cases it’d be true…” she met Jimmy’s eyes. “The only real… certain way he will live forever…is ere’.” She patted her heart. “In the changin’ of our hearts, he’ll change the lives of our children and our grandchildren. He will always be there inside of us. Even if it’s an iota of piece of him. He’ll be there.  He will always be there. He’s my big brother. He will always be my big brother. Some things can never be taken from us. And history for better or worse can never be changed, but history can be used t’build a future. Thomas Barrow were a fighter, he battled until the bitter end. If now he’s history, then we should use his spirit to carry on, move this planet forward, so he may be part of the future as well. Th-thankyou big brother, cheers Blue. I’ll love you forever.”

They stood for him. They sung him out and as he rolled through the curtains, Jimmy couldn’t help but stand, place his hand on the coffin top just over his name etched in silver. If it weren’t for Ella and Andrew, he would have crawled into the fire pit with him.

But he didn’t. He let himself be weak in their arms.

/

Minutes Later

George Crawley always had a fondness for Mr Barrow. When he was a toddler, he remembered riding through the halls of the Abbey on his shoulders. Both of them giggling incessantly. Mr Kent had always looked on and laughed. He seemed fond of George too, in a second-hand sort of way. And George had always been curious about him.

Now an adult, George found himself losing his first ever friend and he felt a strong pull towards the man he had spent his life with. He moved over to Mr Kent as his mother, Mary cupped his cheek and murmured something comforting in his ear. Mr Kent’s eyes turned upon George. He smiled weakly.

“You look so grown up Master George…”

George nodded. “Unfortunately, we kids tend to do that… I’m fourty this next month”

Mr Kent stared blankly. “Christ…time did fly.”

“I’m so sorry Mr Kent. I know losing your best friend-” “My lover.”

The younger blinked. “Your…”

“Yeah…my lover. My husband. My soulmate. And if it bothers you I couldn’t give two shits about it.”

“James…” Mary whispered, going clutching his arm. He pulled away before she got there.

“We loved each other, tha’s tha. I’m an old man now, there ent nothing more you people could do hurt me. Because nothing would hurt more than watching the man I love bein’ rolled through a pair of curtains in a goddamn box. Nothin’”

“I know…” George murmured.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes. “Y’know?” George spoke soft enough that nobody could hear. “I know Mr Barrow liked men. I know you were in love. There were whispers…rumours. I can’t say it ever bothered me.”

“It-it never…”

“Why should it? You never did anything to harm me…moreover, you simply made each other better people, at least by my eyes.  Happier. And in turn, you made other people happy.  How could that be an evil thing?”

Something occurred to Jimmy in that moment. The world was changing, and he and Thomas had a little to do with it.

/

September 19th 1957

Autumn was a time of change, it was only as the colours of the country became vibrant that Jimmy found the will to finally let Ella go through his love’s possessions.

He kept some things for himself. His fedora, his coat. His sketch book, filled with captured moments. The rest he felt no real need for.

“Jimmy, sweetheart yer should see this.”

Jimmy remained clutching the leather-bound book to his chest, but he turned his eyes to Ella. Her brother’s absolute double.

She handed him a several folded sheets of crumpled paper.

“Wha’s that?”

“I dunno…but it’s addressed to you. And it’s his handwritin’.”

Jimmy’s eyes fluttered.

“Right…Thanks.”

He unfolded the paper as she carried a small chest into the sitting room. There was a rustle as he straightened out the paper and his name was scrawled in cursive at the top of the page.

Jimmy,

My sweet and beautiful boy. I will never leave you. I know that’s what you think I have done. But I haven’t.

You know, I had my doubts on there being a god. I had so many doubts. That is until I found that heaven was missing its most lovely angel. Only god could have put you in my path, I know it. I need to tell you all this before I forget.

I need to tell you how much I love you.

You have saved my soul. My heart, my mind. You have saved me.

I know now, by making you smile, I have done my part on this Earth. I’ll save you a space back in the clouds sweet boy. I’ll save you a seat next to mine.

You’ll be okay. But it will hurt sweetheart and I wish everyday I could stop hurting you, but I can’t. That’s something beyond my power. I’m so sorry for the way you will have to see me, but know that every second I don’t know your name, I will always know your soul. Because we are bonded together. No matter where I am, you are with me and I am with you.

No person would have ever made me happier. We had such happy times, didn’t we? Remember them.  I’m so grateful my boy and I’ll see you in the stars.

Yours forever,

Thomas.

/

August 28th 1961

By some bitter sweet irony, Jimmy died just 4 years after Thomas. At the exact same age. He died in his sleep, the doctor’s said his heart simply stopped.

It was much more peaceful than Thomas’ passing. He was found clutching his open journal to his chest and covered in Thomas’ old coat.

 When the open- book was pried from his hands the shaky script read:

My Angel,

It’s so bright…I can feel it, feel you. I can feel you all around me. God its be so long since I felt you. I’ve missed you so much.

Is this what it felt like for you?

It feels so good…so final, so peaceful. Why do you come to me so slow?

It’s okay…I’m here, I’m here. We won’t ever be apart again…

Oh god.

You look so beautiful.

Ella laughed through a river of tears. “Oh, my boys.  That’s it.  Into the sun you go.”

[such-an-almighty-sound]

2/27

you are lying on your face in a dim blue hallway. intermittent light, cast from some yards away, flickers across your face, steadies. you sit up. all your limbs, cast in blue. the light is an unreal shade of gold that greys the floorboards

the light is coming from under the door to a room

the door becomes larger and larger as you move toward it, feet stumbling. your joints are heavy, hard. the feeling of your bones everywhere makes you feel sick. spaces that didn’t use to be.

you are dwarfed by the door but it opens quietly and you stand in a room glowing but dim, with a light that makes you shiver and ache. 

a vast sleigh bed, florence sitting upright at the head

there is a body in her arms. it lies limp against her, its face turned into her shadow. you do not look to see if it breathes.

florence sees you but does not move from her tending. her soft attention, her hand moving gently stroke stroke stroke.

there’s still room for you, too, she says. the blankets to her left are turned down, open.

you feel cold and achey and awkward but you’ll be damned before you crawl up there beside- with- 

i wanted to talk about- irritated, you break off. you can’t tell how much she’s listening, the tender tilt of her head seems too preoccupied

-j. in the icu. i know. again she doesn’t move, just half-looks at you. 

well? you ask, a shade angrier than you intend. 

come here and we’ll talk about it. florence touches the space next to her, lets her hand linger on the blanket, waiting.

how about fuck you. 

there’s nothing new i can tell you, bucky. her speech is purposefully calm. don’t you think this would all go easier if you could reach some point of reconciliation? 

her measuredness makes you angrier. why do you have to keep bringing her into this? you keep pushing. i thought you were done with this, i thought you were done! 

her hair shifts as she looks up at you.

it’s all the same fight, bucky. your refusal to connect these events compounds how much it affects you. 

you make an angry noise and florence continues, regardless.

you came here, and you’re welcome to stay, but this is what i’m doing right now. this is what i want. her hand keeps following the same line, turning down, tucking down, what you recognize as comforting gesture. a light constant touch  polarized by your anger. stroke stroke stroke. her face is a little turned away and her voice is barely above a murmur. if you’re angry you’re angry but you will not get me to leave her.

she doesn’t even do anything. you say. she doesn’t even talk to you. she no longer exists! there’s no point.

that’s not for you to decide. 

you growl and move as far away as you can, skulking against the wall of the room. can’t stop yourself from looking back over to the bed. the room is neither large nor small but you feel trapped, perhaps by juxtaposition.

florence begins to hum, something you can’t place that turns over on itself and seems to crawl inside your head, like the tide. pressing your hands against the sides of your face you can still hear and feel too much. rocking back and forth on the floor.

the more you try to drown her out the more you revert into the panic you were trying to avoid by being here the surgery the surgery his face all shot off in the icu again again tracheotomy the graft won’t stick the graft won’t stick in the icu again and it builds and builds until you can no longer bear to be in your own skin in this room with florence and your previous self, her silence fraught 

you stand up fast and grab the door, which opens so easily you almost fall. you stand, holding it open, uncertain and reeling- she didn’t lock it, you could just leave

outside the hallway is dark and seems to shake, as though as with the quell of a passing boat or train. there is another door far down at the other end, but it repels you as much as the one you have come from. your panic is so that you crawl, the want of distance winning over repulsion 

you cannot make yourself wake up. you crouch and shake and listen to the noise of interstitial space. 

maybe an hour, maybe twenty minutes of this pass before the door you have come from creaks open, spilling light down the floor of the hall. 

the backlight is so that you can see every strand of florence’s hair as it falls in unbrushed tendrils over her shoulders, over the blanket and body she is carrying, but not her face, not her expression, no damning details.

her feet move assuredly and silently, like two sleepwalkers. she shouldn’t be able to walk so gracefully carrying what she’s carrying. the motion of the floor calms as she walks down, past you on your knees, pauses.

will you please open the door for me, bucky? 

you grit your teeth and refuse to look but move forward, still crouched, to do so. her feet pass by you and you curl in on yourself, fingers in ears and eyes closed, still hearing and feeling too much of that doorway. you stay like that for long minutes until her feet quietly pad back out. 

your own internalized blame hurts you a thousand times more than she ever will. you can protect her now. don’t indict her with the way you carry your trauma-

her voice is quiet but steady. 

-‘like a garden not like a grave’ isn’t that right? decide what you’re planting. while you still can. 

florence leans down and picks you up in a way that she shouldn’t be able to, begins walking back down the hall.

don’t- don’t- don’t carry me. i won’t lie where she was. you’re twitching against her shoulder, aware of her arms against your ribs, on your hip, all the angry bones

you are still a body, that has illness, and you still deserve whatever love and tenderness i can give you. you tell me where the line is.

[albinzadamski]

How The Bedroom Can Influence Your Sleep

Do you find it hard to switch off at night? Does your bedroom operate more in terms of functionality than anything else? Read on…

With research suggesting that adults need an average of 7-9 hours sleep a night, we’re throwing the spotlight on the bedroom. We’ll be looking at how you can prime this space to ensure you get a great night’s sleep as often as possible - exploring everything from colours and lighting to furniture and furnishings.

Emanate warmth with your colour palette

There’s no denying that colour plays an integral role in the aesthetic of any space - and in the bedroom, it’s arguably more important than anywhere else. Starting from scratch may seem like an exciting prospect, but with so many colours to choose from, how do you know where to begin? For a room that emanates warmth and relaxation, deep blues, rich purples and indulgent reds are the way to go - so arm yourself with some tester paint pots and spend some time experimenting.

From terracotta tiles on a feature wall to decorative hangings that align with your colour palette, you can use your choice of hues to create a cosy hub where you love to spend time. Remember that your entire room doesn’t need to be awash with one colour - but you don’t want to overdo it either - so find which colours work best together and go from there. Without busy, vibrant colours adorning your room, you’ll be able to switch off and drift off more easily.

Find your perfect furniture fit

All too often, bedroom furniture is chosen out of necessity, and, while the need for practicality is obvious, in your quest to create a cosy bedroom, there are other things to consider. From the amount of floor space it takes up to the way it blends in with your colour scheme, your furniture might just be more important than you realise. Give your room a quick scan to assess what each piece of furniture is actually contributing to the room and if it’s even doing its job in terms of practicality.

Next, think about your bed and in particular, your mattress. While price will undoubtedly be a factor when it comes to choosing your bed, keep in mind that this is where you’ll sleep every night - so it’s well worth putting aside a little extra cash to be able to enjoy a mattress that’s suited to your body shape and sleeping requirements. Shop around for a bed, mattress and then bedding that best suits you to enjoy a truly great night’s sleep.

Encourage ambience with your lighting

From backlights on screens to the wattage of floor lamps, lighting has a major part to play when it comes to optimising your bedroom. While stark white lighting will likely lead to headaches and an inability to switch off, ambient lighting can have the opposite effect. So while you may not have considered colours or strengths of bulbs, now’s the time!

Whether you’re opting for spotlights or recessed lighting, taking control of these aspects of your room’s decor can make all the difference. Whether you’re spending the evening winding down or indulging in some pre-bedtime reading, dimmer switches, bedside lamps and even candles are all great ways to bathe your bedroom in a warm and inviting light. With the ambience of the room taken care of, when bedtime rolls around, you’ll be that much more relaxed.

Accessorise with soft furnishings

Nothing says cosy quite like a room adorned with soft furnishings - and in your quest for the ultimate relaxation space, chunky throws, heavy curtains and fluffy rugs can be used to achieve exactly that. This is particularly appealing in the winter months when extra furnishings can contribute to a warmer and more inviting space. In the summer, cosy is probably not quite what you’re looking for - so it’s important you switch up your room for the season.

While even in winter you might not be a fan of removing throw pillows from your bed every evening and repositioning them each morning, there are other ways to incorporate added extras into your room. Get creative with bed curtains, bed runners and comfy duvets to make your very own haven away from the hustle and bustle of modern life. Whether you’re handy with a sewing machine or completely lack creativity, there are a whole number or online resources that can help you save time and money, all while adding personality to your space.

So, whether you’re the sort of person who simply can’t drop off to sleep unless there’s background noise or you need complete darkness before you can doze, it’s worth thinking about what an optimum bedroom space looks like to you. This way, you can say goodbye to counting sheep and hello to a restful night’s sleep.

https://www.otomo.co.uk/

from Otomo - Blog https://www.otomo.co.uk/blogs/news/how-the-bedroom-can-influence-your-sleep from Otomo https://otomouk.tumblr.com/post/176603333013

[otomouk]

How The Bedroom Can Influence Your Sleep

Do you find it hard to switch off at night? Does your bedroom operate more in terms of functionality than anything else? Read on...

With research suggesting that adults need an average of 7-9 hours sleep a night, we’re throwing the spotlight on the bedroom. We’ll be looking at how you can prime this space to ensure you get a great night’s sleep as often as possible - exploring everything from colours and lighting to furniture and furnishings.

Emanate warmth with your colour palette

There’s no denying that colour plays an integral role in the aesthetic of any space - and in the bedroom, it’s arguably more important than anywhere else. Starting from scratch may seem like an exciting prospect, but with so many colours to choose from, how do you know where to begin? For a room that emanates warmth and relaxation, deep blues, rich purples and indulgent reds are the way to go - so arm yourself with some tester paint pots and spend some time experimenting.

From terracotta tiles on a feature wall to decorative hangings that align with your colour palette, you can use your choice of hues to create a cosy hub where you love to spend time. Remember that your entire room doesn’t need to be awash with one colour - but you don’t want to overdo it either - so find which colours work best together and go from there. Without busy, vibrant colours adorning your room, you’ll be able to switch off and drift off more easily.

Find your perfect furniture fit

All too often, bedroom furniture is chosen out of necessity, and, while the need for practicality is obvious, in your quest to create a cosy bedroom, there are other things to consider. From the amount of floor space it takes up to the way it blends in with your colour scheme, your furniture might just be more important than you realise. Give your room a quick scan to assess what each piece of furniture is actually contributing to the room and if it’s even doing its job in terms of practicality.

Next, think about your bed and in particular, your mattress. While price will undoubtedly be a factor when it comes to choosing your bed, keep in mind that this is where you’ll sleep every night - so it’s well worth putting aside a little extra cash to be able to enjoy a mattress that’s suited to your body shape and sleeping requirements. Shop around for a bed, mattress and then bedding that best suits you to enjoy a truly great night’s sleep.

Encourage ambience with your lighting

From backlights on screens to the wattage of floor lamps, lighting has a major part to play when it comes to optimising your bedroom. While stark white lighting will likely lead to headaches and an inability to switch off, ambient lighting can have the opposite effect. So while you may not have considered colours or strengths of bulbs, now’s the time!

Whether you’re opting for spotlights or recessed lighting, taking control of these aspects of your room’s decor can make all the difference. Whether you’re spending the evening winding down or indulging in some pre-bedtime reading, dimmer switches, bedside lamps and even candles are all great ways to bathe your bedroom in a warm and inviting light. With the ambience of the room taken care of, when bedtime rolls around, you’ll be that much more relaxed.

Accessorise with soft furnishings

Nothing says cosy quite like a room adorned with soft furnishings - and in your quest for the ultimate relaxation space, chunky throws, heavy curtains and fluffy rugs can be used to achieve exactly that. This is particularly appealing in the winter months when extra furnishings can contribute to a warmer and more inviting space. In the summer, cosy is probably not quite what you’re looking for - so it’s important you switch up your room for the season.

While even in winter you might not be a fan of removing throw pillows from your bed every evening and repositioning them each morning, there are other ways to incorporate added extras into your room. Get creative with bed curtains, bed runners and comfy duvets to make your very own haven away from the hustle and bustle of modern life. Whether you’re handy with a sewing machine or completely lack creativity, there are a whole number or online resources that can help you save time and money, all while adding personality to your space.

So, whether you’re the sort of person who simply can’t drop off to sleep unless there’s background noise or you need complete darkness before you can doze, it’s worth thinking about what an optimum bedroom space looks like to you. This way, you can say goodbye to counting sheep and hello to a restful night’s sleep.

https://www.otomo.co.uk/

from Otomo - Blog https://www.otomo.co.uk/blogs/news/how-the-bedroom-can-influence-your-sleep

[twoteaspoonsofsuga]

Your Body Type (Viktuuri Fanfic)

AN: Hello 2083 words of panty!kink porn and Viktor being an extra tease and Yuuri discovering his inner top. End of Episode 12, going into Season 2.

Yuuri in panties had become somewhat of an obsession for Viktor. Nowadays, Yuuri wandering around the house in thigh highs and lacy underwear was as normal as wearing briefs. Viktor had bought them in all manner or colour, design and material, he loved to dress him up. Yuuri was still confused as to why… But Viktor loved his body. He loved how his thighs were rounder than unusual for a man…he loved how little his waist was and he could never and would never tire of his ass. It was both endlessly hot and intriguing to Viktor how each ensemble shaped his body and coloured his skin in a different way .And Yuuri was so shy about it at first, worried about having a food belly or looking too ridiculous. But with amount of time Viktor had spent with his face between his legs, he had lost that insecurity.

Now he was so…confident. Teasing Viktor and giggling. Very often like today, he’d put them back on after sex and shower because, he told Viktor, “They make me feel kind of…Eros.” Viktor’s fingers splayed on his lower back and his thumb stroked the edge of the black lace and Yuuri made a soft content noise as the sun turned the room a dusky orange. “Yuuri?” “Yeah?” “Do you think I’d look good panties?” Yuuri places a hand on his chest and pushed himself up, wide eyed. “I... why do you ask? I mean of course you would. Wow um… are you…planning on doing that?” Viktor’s long lashes fluttered up at him. “Maybe…I’m curious. But my body is a lot less…beautifully curved as yours. Mine is all long and angular, it might not look as nice” he shrugged. Yuuri’s finger was against Viktor’s lips. “I won’t hear a word of that. You have the most flawless body … you’d look so beautiful.” “Hmm my precious boy…maybe I’ll try for you huh?” He pulled him into a quick kiss and rolled of the bed butt naked, Yuuri rolling onto his side to watch him move, he was still entranced by this situation. I mean, how many people get the opportunity to see their childhood crush naked. Let alone have sex with them or live with them and sleep in their bed every night. Viktor shuffled through the drawers. “Hmm what colour do you think?” “Blue…a pale one…like ice. To match your eyes.” Viktor turned back to him, a smile lighting his eyes. “As you wish my ice prince.” He wiggled his ass playfully. His hands passed over the grey extensions as he found silk and lace set. He had bought them as an experiment, when he contemplated growing out his hair again. He picked them up too. “I’ll be back with you in moment sweet boy…” he promised, mischief painting his face as he scurried into the en-suite. Behind the door Viktor was being Viktor and creating a masterpiece out of a whim. He dug into the cupboards after he had pulled on the panties and the garters and the thigh highs which were knee highs on him. He pulled out makeup. Usually they saved it competion…but now and again they’d use it for dressing up. “Yes…” he murmured to himself he set it down on the counter and narrowed his eyes hip jutted and finger tapping his lip thoughtfully. He started by clipping in the extensions. He then pulled it up from his face in a ponytail, a few wisps hanging down around his face.  He riffled through the makeup box and found some finely milled iridescent pigment. He pressed it along his cheekbones to make him glow. “Viktor?” a knock came. “Are you okay?” “Yes, my love! Give me moment. I’m very nearly done.” He heard Yuuri pad away from the door and he breathed out a sigh of relief. It was time for a final step. He went back to the cupboard and found the little white flowers Viktor had used to adorn Yuuri’s costume for Halloween. A white fairy. He poked them into hair, winding some into ponytail too and when he had twirled once for mirror Viktor he nodded and opened the door. Yuuri was waiting cross legged on the bed, head on his hand as he flipped through his phone, Viktor coughed to make him look up. Yuuri was stunned by him. He felt his heart race and his blood go south in almost an instant. Viktor smiled soft outside but inside he honestly felt a little shy for once. “Is it nice? Do I look good.” “Good?” Yuuri’s eyes travelled over his body. “People write poetry about people like you looking like this…you…you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…wow.” He covered his face ears tinted red and Viktor chuckled at him… “Do you get why I love dressing you up now?” he asked swinging his hips as he passed the window, the backlight giving him an ethereal light. “Stop!” Yuuri said suddenly. Viktor did as he was told, stunned into obeying. Yuuri laughed a soft laugh. “Sorry just. Can I take a picture…y-you…you look…” “Yes of course.” Yuuri scrambled for his phone. He got the passcode wrong twice and whined his frustration. By now Viktor had took a seat by the floor length window. “Sweetheart…” Yuuri looked up all flustered at him.  Viktor smiled cheek pressed to his knees. “Breathe sweet boy. I’m not going anywhere.” That was the thing…Viktor felt like a dream and Yuuri had to hasten before he blinked and missed him. But no…he was here…he was real and sat in lace and glitter to please him. Yuuri’s hand steadied as he took the first picture. “Come closer…” Viktor whispered. Yuuri fell melted from the mattress to his knees on the carpet and crawled between Viktor’s legs as he sunk onto back, arms stretched above him and face radiant. Yuuri, supported on one arm took more photo’s, Viktor biting his lip and practically fucking Yuuri through the camera. Then a hand pushed the screen down. Viktor’s eyes bore into Yuuri. “Let me see my baby’s face.” Yuuri threw his phone over his shoulder and kissed his fiancé. He kissed him so hard Viktor had to gather himself before he kissed back. He tangled his fingers in Yuuri’s hair and rolled them over. Silk against lace they rutted against each other like two virgins unable to control themselves. “Fuck…” Yuuri whispered as they panted and rolled sweaty skin against skin. And he felt Viktor get harder and harder above him until Yuuri looked down the see his cock peeking out the waist band of his panties. Yuuri’s fingers brushed over it, wracking Viktor in shivers as he rolled him back onto the floor. “Mph…you…you wanna ride me?” Yuuri shook his head. “Oh…” “It was just an idea. I-I’d probably look silly above you…it…” “Yes please.” Yuri blinked. Viktor smiled serene. “I mean I haven’t done it in a while…people assume…tall…older, he likes to top. But I miss bottoming sometimes.” “Why didn’t you tell me.” “Because I was perfectly satisfied topping and angel like you.” Yuuri closed his eyes, there was no verbal response to match something like that…nothing he could think of anyway. Instead he kissed him, soft, deep and trailed his lips passionately down Viktor’s neck. Viktor made soft little noises of satisfaction as Yuuri came lower and lower until he reaches the tip of his exposed cock which he kissed as he pulled down the panties. He tossed them to the side breathing heavy and blushing hard as he spread Viktor’s legs.  Viktor whimpered as anyone would being so exposed. But he closed his eyes and let Yuuri stare. “My Vitya…” “Mmm yes…” he whispered. “Yes.” Suddenly Yuuri was dipping his head and pressing his tongue against the tight pucker. “HAH! Oh..../Christ/ Yuuri!” Yuuri sighed soft and reverent and licked deeper and Viktor whimpered and writhed underneath him in the most beautiful way. His hands came to cradle the back of Yuuri’s head. “Hah! Oh god! Please…” he whimpered and suddenly Yuuri was crawling up him and kissing him messily. Viktor’s hands found Yuuri’s lace covered ass and unable to stop himself he squeezed. Yuri moaned and suddenly, overcome with need he tore the delicate lace up, ripping it from his body. Viktor could do nothing but gasp as Yuuri looked back at him eyes full of desperation and lust. Viktor would shiver from fear but there was a blatant love there which meant he feared nothing anymore. He lay pliant and willing under him. And spread his legs for him. Yuuri leaned over to get the lube. “No please I need you inside me now. I can’t go any longer, please…” Yuuri was surprised, he wasn’t used to seeing Viktor beg like this. Viktor was usually so poised and in control. He cupped his face. “It’s been a while for you Vitya. I would hate to hurt you. I promise soon…I’ll look after you well, just like you look after me yeah?” Viktor bit his lip and seemed to decide he was right so he just brought a knee to his chest to make it easier for Yuuri who was struggling with the amount of lube. He decided a little more could never hurt and pressed a slippery finger through the tight ring of muscle. Viktor tensed and arched, back bowed and eyes screwed shut and Yuuri swept the beads of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Are you okay?” “Hhn…yes…carry on…I’ll tell y-you if I’m become…not okay.” Yuuri nodded and pushed in further he thrust steadily for a while when Viktor began to ride the digit he pushed in two and when he brushed his prostate and Viktor keened and called out, he added a third. By the time he was ready Viktor was a mess. “I need you in me so bad Yuuri… I’ve never needed anything more…” Yuuri blindly lubed his cock vision hazy and then he was sinking into him and Viktor’s works where transformed into a broken cry. It took everything in Yuuri not cum on the spot. “God…fuck…how-how do you even…” “For you…” he breathed simply. Eyes hooded as he gazed up at him. He caressed Viktor’s thighs lovingly as they just basked together for a quiet moment. It felt like the first time…it was…technically a first, but without the uncertainty. They knew what touch…how to touch the other in such a way it would drive them wild. Yuuri liked it to be either gentle and passionate with beautiful words, then hard and rough and vulgar. Viktor on the other hand liked to be teased, he like playfulness. Yuuri had gotten better at it. He leaned down and licked the shell of his ear and whispered. “You look so pretty Vitya. You want me to fuck you don’t you.”Viktor gasped and nodded. “Hmm what was that?” “Yes Yuuri.” Yuuri giggled. “You’re so sweet like this.” Then he thrust hard once, Viktor choking out a shattered moan. “Hmm…that’s nice isn’t it?” “Y-yes Yuuri…” “More?” “Yes please…” Yuuri began to thrust hard and deep, diving deeper with each hard, slick thrust. Very soon teasing was at the back of either of their minds, replaced by a soul deep need just to clutch on to each other and ride the pleasure waves for all they were worth. Before long Yuuri was whimpering as much as Viktor was and pulling him into his lap. Viktor leant back on his hand and rode him like pro. Yuuri was left to imagine 18-year-old Viktor coming off his second gold riding a guy for the first time and suddenly he felt possessive. His nails dug into his hips. “Are you mine Vitya?” “Yes! Yes. God yes!” he cried out holding his cheeks open and slamming down three more times before he came hard completely untouched, all over his stomach, eyes rolled back and dazed, Yuuri had to lie him back so he could pull out and cum across his thighs painting the pale skin and the garters. Flushed and exhausted he collapsed onto Viktor’s chest. “I love you…” Viktor smiled as he regained his breath. “I love you.” He returned. “My sexy little top.” Yuuri covered his face laughing. “I…I don’t know…you’re better at it.” “I’ve had more practice…I’m certainly not worried but if you’re a little unsure of your performance, this doesn’t have to be a one-time thing.” Yuuri laughed aloud as Viktor rolled himself on top of his fiancé. “Let’s go again.”

[such-an-almighty-sound]

2/27 (edit)

posting this again bc there were some revisions i wanted to make. havin a flashback and a night terror wound together means it takes some things a little bit to percolate

you are lying on your face in a dim hallway. steady light, cast from some yards away, illuminates the side of your face. you sit up. all your limbs, cast in blue shadow. the light is an unreal shade of gold that greys the floorboards

the light is cast from under the door to a room

the door becomes larger and larger as you move toward it, feet stumbling. your joints are heavy, hard. the feeling of your bones everywhere makes you feel sick. spaces that didn’t use to be. the residual terror in your legs burns.

you are dwarfed by the door but it opens quietly and you stand in a room glowing but dim, with a light that makes you shiver and ache. 

a vast sleigh bed, florence sitting upright at the head. 

there is a body in her arms. it lies limp against her, its face turned into her shadow. you do not look to see if it breathes. a sea of blankets over both their limbs.

florence sees you but does not move from her tending. her soft attention, her hand moving gently stroke stroke stroke.

there’s still room for you, too, she says. the blankets to her left are turned down, open.

your legs burn fiercely and you feel cold and achey and awkward but you’ll be damned before you crawl up there and cuddle with- 

i wanted to talk about- you break off, irritated. you can’t tell how much she’s listening, the tender tilt of her head seems too preoccupied to be of much use

-j. in the icu. i know. again she doesn’t move, just half-looks at you. 

well? you ask, a shade angrier than you intend. 

come here and we’ll talk about it. florence touches the space next to her, lets her hand linger on the blanket, waiting.

how about fuck you. 

there’s nothing new i can tell you, bucky. her speech is purposefully calm. don’t you think this would all go easier if you could reach some point of reconciliation? come here.

her measuredness makes you angrier. why do you have to keep bringing her into this? you keep pushing. i thought you were done with this, i thought you were done! 

her hair shifts as she looks up at you.

it’s all the same fight, bucky. your refusal to connect these events compounds how much it affects you. you can’t move past your own hospitalization and it won’t help you through this.

you make an angry noise and florence continues, regardless.

you came here, and you’re welcome to stay, but this is what i’m doing right now. this is what i want. her hand keeps following the same line, turning down, tucking down, what you recognize as comforting gesture. a light constant touch polarized by your anger. stroke stroke stroke. her face is a little turned away and her voice is barely above a murmur. if you’re angry you’re angry but you will not get me to leave her.

she doesn’t even do anything. you say. she doesn’t even talk to you. she no longer exists! there’s no point.

that’s not for you to decide. 

you growl and move as far away as you can, skulking against the wall of the room. can’t stop yourself from looking back over to the bed. the room is neither large nor small but you feel trapped, perhaps by juxtaposition.

florence begins to hum, something you can’t place that turns over on itself and seems to crawl inside your head, like the tide. pressing your hands against the sides of your face you can still hear and feel too much. rocking back and forth on the floor.

the more you try to drown her out the more you revert into the panic you were trying to avoid by being here the surgery the surgery his face all shot off in the icu again again tracheotomy the graft won’t stick the graft won’t stick in the icu again and it builds and builds until you can no longer bear to be in your own skin in this room with florence and your previous self, the silence fraught with murmuring not meant for you

you stand up fast and grab the door, which opens so easily you almost fall. you stand, holding it open, uncertain and reeling- she didn’t lock it, you could just leave

outside the hallway is dark and seems to shake, as though as with the quell of a passing boat or train. there is another door far down at the other end, but it repels you as much as the one you have come from. your panic is so that you crawl, the want of distance winning over repulsion 

you cannot make yourself wake up. you crouch and shake and listen to the noise of interstitial space. 

maybe an hour, maybe twenty minutes of this pass before the door you have come from creaks open, spilling light down the floor of the hall. 

the backlight is so that you can see every strand of florence’s hair as it falls in unbrushed tendrils over her shoulders, over the blanket and body she is carrying, but not her face, not her expression, no damning details.

her feet move assuredly and silently, like two sleepwalkers. she shouldn’t be able to walk so gracefully carrying what she’s carrying. the motion of the floor calms as she walks down, past you on your knees, pauses.

will you please open the door for me, bucky?

you grit your teeth and refuse to look but move forward, still crouched, to do so. her feet pass by you and you curl in on yourself, fingers in ears and eyes closed, still hearing and feeling too much of that doorway. you stay like that for long minutes until her feet quietly pad back out. 

your own internalized blame hurts you a thousand times more than she ever will. you can protect her now. don’t indict her with the way you carry your trauma-

her voice is quiet but steady. 

-‘like a garden not like a grave’ isn’t that right? decide what you’re planting. while you still can. 

[crushed ferns on a casket full of dirt; bare feet on a forest floor; cedar sap as red as blood]

florence leans down and picks you up. she shouldn’t be able to; you have the feeling she doesn’t care. you struggle as she begins walking back down the hall.

don’t- don’t- don’t carry me. i won’t lie where she was. you’re twitching against her shoulder, aware of her arms against your ribs, on your hip, all the angry bones

i don’t think you have much of a choice. you are still a body, that has illness, and you still deserve whatever love and tenderness i can give you. you tell me where the line is.