#god i really hope this was an intentional little self-roast because that would be so fucking funny

[m4rs-ex3]

you're one to talk claudia

[narrators-journal]

Vash and zora 24 and 15 bc you love me sooo much and I get boyfriend rights <3

Woo! No offense to you, love, but man am I glad to be done with this one. I don’t know why, but this bitch was a struggle to write. Even though it’s short, this gave me such trouble to get through. Not because I didn’t have IDEAS, it was moreso just because I just. Sat and stared at the page so much. Idk why but no thoughts for words came to mind, maybe it was my self-esteem, or just how much I’ve written already. But, either way, I got through it! And, I hope you enjoy it, even if it did go through a lot of rewrites, and we ended up changing the chosen OC.

Also! For anyone in the trigun fandom! No, I do not actively take requests for trigun, I only wrote this because I love my boyfriend, and he adores trigun. So, I gave it my best shot for him.

Kinktober prompt list: Here

Kinktober masterlist: Here

CW: thighfucking, aphrodisiacs, and a little bit of praise sprinkled on top!

Vash’s weight pressed down on Nasa in an oppressive way that surprised the shorter man. The blonde was usually so sweet and tender, he was nervously gentle with everything. Yet, now, as the blue-haired man fought for a breath through the thick cloud of mineral-y, bonfire-scented pollen that poured off of the tall blonde, he was completely different.

He panted like a dog in the cold dessert night. He clung to Nasa’s leg as if it were a teddy bear. His beautiful green eyes were wide, and he humped against the back of the blue-haired man’s thigh with feral moans that slipped from his lips as the cheap hotel’s bed creaked. It was a complete 180 from their usual moments of passion.

After all, one again, Vash was normally a tender, sweet man who focused almost exclusively on Nasa when they slept together. His touches were careful, measured, especially with his prosthetic hand. But, now? Now, Vash’s grip bruised the engineer’s sun-kissed skin.

Yet, as he watched the blonde’s expression twist with desire and pain, Nasa got the strong sense that he wasn’t the only one who was in a bit of pain. Or, at the very least, he wasn’t the only one who struggled against his lascivious madness. The only difference between them was that Nasa struggled to breathe through the smog of pollen that Vash gave off, and said blonde seemed to struggle with some sort of pain that Nasa assumed came from how hard he was.

At least, that’s what Nasa was left to assume from how Vash whined as he humped against the blue-haired engineer’s thigh, his boxers soaked with precum and sweat, his pants tossed haphazardly onto the hotel room’s wood floor with his cherry-colored coat, his light green eyes blown wide, and his sun-freckled cheeks painted with a pinkish hue as he panted out, “You feel really good around me…” and the engineer didn’t really have the heart to tell him that the pleasure he chased came from the meat of the thigh he ground his erection into. “Really good...so good…” “Um, thank you.” Nasa mumbled, his mouth dry, his heart athunder against his chest, and his blood too warm in his veins.

Even though the blonde didn’t seem to have the braincells necessary to realize how he hadn’t even gotten Nasa’s pajama pants off, let alone properly thrust into the engineer, his desire and intentions were clear, and they were all it took to make Nasa’s body roast itself to death in his embarrassment. Which, mixed with a sense of embarrassment that plagued the blue-haired man while he listened to the bed creak and Vash moan more praise for the engineer’s body. “So hot, so tight.” “God, I need you so badly, Nasa.” “You’re so good at this.” “I love you so much. You make me feel so good.” and more fell freely from Vash’s mouth as he continued to thrust against Nasa’s thigh with a harsh grip that some part of the engineer enjoyed, but also feared would break his leg.

Though, that wasn’t the only, nor the biggest risk, on Nasa’s mind. The most pressing thought that plagued his pollen-suffocated mind, was Oh god, why is it so hard to breathe? Vash isn’t going to legitimately crush me to death, is he? Not really his bones. Or, at least his leg, the ache in his ribcage from Vash’s weight squishing his leg into his upper body was a bit harder to ignore. But, Nasa gave it his best shot.

Something he did by focusing on Vash’s soft moans, nonsensical mutters, and the creaks of his hotel’s bed. Or, the bonfire-esque scent that invaded his nostrils while his body gently bounced in time with the tall blonde’s thrusts. Until, inevitably, his senses were drug back to the moment when the man that loomed over him whimpered, “C-Can I cum inside? Please?!” as if the boxers that his erection was trapped in began to hurt him, or maybe the friction from his mindless humping was. Either way, the pained desperation in his voice took the man by surprise. Though, it only lasted for a heartbeat before his senses returned and he could stumble out, “Uh, yes. Yes, cum inside all you want, Vash.” he panted, his face warmer than the sun, though somehow not as warm as the cum that he felt splatter onto the back of his thighs with a slightly pained moan. Something that he couldn’t share in, that time. All he could do was lay on the uncomfortable mattress and watch the scrunch of painful lust fade from vash’s sun-freckled face. Until, the tall man could open his eyes once more and Nasa could see how those beautiful emeralds had lost their cloudy nature for the night.

“The hell got into you tonight, Vash?” He asked as the man slowly leaned back with his leg, the simple movement already a relief to the breathless man. “I...I don’t know.” Was Vash’s muttered offering as he flopped heavily onto the bed beside Nasa. “I went to my room to lay down, and...suddenly I was really horny...Sorry.” But, Nasa was already shaking his head, “It’s fine, Vash. Just...weird, I suppose. Next time, at least try to get our clothes off.” He joked, though his words landed on deaf ears because, Vash had already conked out beside him on the bed. So, the engineer just sighed and got up to go wash himself up so that he could join the tall man in slumber.

[chilucult]

posting my chiluc smut here first bc I don't have an ao3 account (yet)! will post the ao3 link once I get an account and get it posted.

again, this is smut, minors begone.

also, this is my first fic ever, so feel free to roast me.

another warning, this is long (~10k words)

fic under the cut!

The Fatui Harbinger had been coming to the Angel’s Share for the past few nights. He called himself “Childe”. Diluc was not very fond of him, what with him being with the Fatui and all, but he was a paying customer, so Diluc treated him as he did every other patron. Diluc just wished this Childe guy would treat him like every other bartender.

“Can I get another shot? Pretty please, oh pretty barkeep?” Ajax batted his eyes at Diluc, noticing the man give a slight eye roll before he began to pour the Harbinger his requested shot.

Ajax had been trying to get the attention of this particular bartender for some nights now. When he had first entered the Angel’s Share tavern, his sight had tunnel-visioned on the entrancing man behind the bar with fiery red hair. Ajax knew he had to have him. The bartender, Diluc, his name tag read, was not as perceptive to Ajax’s advances as he had hoped he would be.

Diluc set down the shot he had ordered in front of him, jerking him out of his musings. “Would you like me to add this to your tab, sir?” Diluc asked him, all business. Oh, but Ajax would never tire of hearing the man’s voice, wanting to hear how it sounded when it was screaming his name.

Ajax cocked his head to the side to appreciate the view from a different angle. “Yes, please; and like I said, call me Childe.” He tried not to get discouraged when he saw Diluc scoff a bit. “Actually, you can call me anything you like,” he shot back with a wink.

Diluc only scoffed again, wiping down a glass from another customer. “I’m not going to call you by some made-up name. ‘Childe’ is ridiculous, anyway,” he explained, choosing to ignore the wink the Fatui man had sent him.

Ajax downed his shot easily, smirking slightly at Diluc’s raised eyebrow. “I told you that you could call me anything you want. Although, I certainly didn’t mind ‘sir’ either, if that’s what you’re into,” Ajax all but purred, his eyes half lidded in intent.

Diluc chuckled a bit sarcastically at that. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he shot back, only resorting to responding in such a manner because the Harbinger was pushing his buttons.

Ajax leaned forward on the bar, getting closer to the man of his desires. “Oh I would absolutely love to know just exactly what you’re into,” he whispered darkly, knowing that Diluc could still hear his every word. Ajax mentally pumped his fist when he saw Diluc inhale sharply at that.

Diluc narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. “Are you... flirting with me?” he asked, genuinely unsure.

Ajax’s eyes widened at the question before he sat back on his barstool with a laugh. “‘Am I flirting with you?’! Um, yeah, actually, have been for the past few days,” he laughs again, thinking it absurd that it took Diluc this long to figure out. “But thanks for noticing, I guess.” He still shook his head to himself, wondering if he had lost his flirting skills or if Diluc was just particularly dense.

Diluc felt his cheeks start to heat up, and quickly turned his back to the Harbinger. The Harbinger that was flirting with him. Diluc couldn’t understand why. The man was clearly out of Diluc’s league, surely he hadn’t missed all the other patrons in the tavern staring at him, had he? So, as he fiddled with empty glasses, wiping them down just to have something to occupy his hands with, he softly asked, “Why?”

Ajax tore his eyes from where he was blatantly staring at Diluc’s ass to meet the man’s hesitant eyes looking over his shoulder. “Why? Are you kidding me? You’re kidding right?” Diluc broke their eye contact, shyly looking down at the floor, which was not what Ajax wanted. “I don’t think we have time to cover my entire list of reasons, Red.” Diluc looked back at him questioningly, both at the nickname and the statement.

“You just look so... breathtaking.” Diluc turned back around to face Ajax, but couldn’t meet his eyes just yet. “Since I first saw you a few nights ago, I knew I just had to have you. I wanna know how beautiful you look when you let your hair down, what kinds of noises you’ll make when I pull on it. Wanna know how you sound after I’ve broken you, how you’ll look after I’ve made a mess of you,” Ajax murmured, slowly standing from his stool and crowding into Diluc as much as he could with the bar between them. He smirked victoriously when he saw Diluc breathing a bit heavier, his cheeks flushed a bright pink.

A loud clang from somewhere in the tavern jolted them apart, someone probably having knocked over their drink. Diluc’s eyes darted about the place, hoping no one had seen them just now. “Oh my- gods, you can’t say stuff like that here, I’m working,” he seethed, attempting to convey his annoyance, but knowing the Harbinger could probably see right through him.

“Not here?” Ajax repeated, a feral grin beginning to grow on his face. “So I could do it, say, in your bedroom?” He asked suggestively.

Diluc couldn’t deny his attraction to the Fatui man. He was hot, what could Diluc say? He had just never thought the man would be interested in him, but he had clearly been wrong. Plus, the things that he had been talking about did sound rather enticing...

He lowered his voice, praying to the gods that none of the other patrons in the tavern could hear what he was saying. “If I say yes, will you quit... teasing me for the rest of my shift?”

Ajax pulled away a bit, suddenly serious. “Hey now, don’t make it sound like I’m forcing you. If you really want me to cut it out and leave, just say the word and I’ll be gone.” He couldn’t stop the small smirk from gracing his lips as he said his next words. “But something tells me that you really don’t want me to stop.”

Diluc flushed, averting his eyes once again. “Do you think I would even consider going home with you if I didn’t want it?” He whispered, embarrassed to have to admit his desires, but also wanting to make his intentions clear.

Ajax grinned wickedly. “Perfect,” he purred. “So when do you get off work, Red?”

Diluc pouted slightly at the nickname before he glanced at the clock on the wall. “In... a little less than an hour. Think you can be patient for that long?”

“If I get to take you home? I’d wait forever,” Ajax grinned easily. He could see Diluc’s cheeks redden, but could also see the weak glare the man sent his way. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you to work in peace.”

For the next hour, Diluc tried to carry on with his work normally, he really tried. Yet, he found it impossible to ignore the stirring of emotions in his gut. He was excited for the night ahead, yes, but there was also nervousness and anxiety eating away at him. He knew he wasn’t the most... experienced person out there. He had only ever slept with one girl years ago, finding it not to his liking. He had never even been with a man (unless you count that one guy he made out with a few years back). He hoped his inexperience wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for the man.

He also found it hard to ignore the presence of the Harbinger. He had kept his word, not making any more moves at Diluc, but Diluc couldn’t shake the feeling of the other man’s eyes tracking his every movement. Every so often when Diluc would sneak a peek at him, he would find the Harbinger shamelessly staring at him, eyes roaming over his body slowly, hungrily. He couldn’t help the flush in his cheeks, nor the way he fidgeted self-consciously with his apron.

When Charles came to finally relieve Diluc of his bartending duties, he could see the clear excitement in the Harbinger’s eyes. Diluc took off his apron, leaning in close to the man to whisper, “Meet me out back.” He almost laughed at the way the man bolted from his seat.

Ajax was waiting patiently behind the tavern for only a few minutes before the fiery redhead made his appearance. “So, where to, Red?” His lips twitched into a small smile as they began walking, noticing that Diluc was just slightly shorter than him.

Diluc grumbled to himself, “Since you’ve been coming to the tavern for days, I would’ve hoped you’d bother to read my name tag once.” He continued when the man beside him chuckled, nodding his head in the direction of the city gates. “The manor is a bit outside the city, hope you don’t mind a bit of a walk.”

Ajax cut himself off from the smooth retort of I’d walk to the ends of the earth to get you into bed with me to look at Diluc inquisitively. “Wait... manor?”

Diluc went on to explain that he owned the winery in Mondstadt, as well as the large manor house that was on the property. He also mentioned that he owned the tavern they were just at, internally preening at the impressed look on the Harbinger’s face.

After that, a silence fell between the two as they walked. Diluc didn’t seem to be one to make small talk much, and Ajax was perfectly fine just taking in the scenery, not feeling the need to run his mouth for once. It was comfortable.

Diluc was infinitely glad that he dismissed his house staff early each night, comforted by the fact that there would be no interruptions. As soon as he walked through the front door, his back was being shoved against the hard wood, the gasp he let out being swallowed by the incessant lips capturing his own. His eyes fell closed as he was kissed breathless against the door, a gloved hand gripping his hip and pinning him in place. Diluc slowly raised a hand to rest on the man’s shoulder as his mouth was invaded by the other’s tongue.

Diluc ripped his head back once the Harbinger gave him room to breathe. “H-hold on,” he panted, tilting his head slightly as the man hummed against the skin of his jaw in response. “I have... two things. F-first,” he stuttered out as the skin beneath his jaw was nipped lightly. “You need to tell me your name. I- I’m not calling you Childe.” His eyebrows furrowed in distaste at the name, even while his eyes slipped shut once again from the soft kisses being left on his neck.

Ajax chuckled against the skin of Diluc’s neck. He peppered light kisses across the skin of his jaw, making his way to the other’s ear, where he whispered, “It’s Ajax. Please do remember it, I want to hear you screaming it for me tonight.” He nipped at the skin just below Diluc’s ear, smirking at the way the man shivered slightly.

Diluc nodded absently, mouthing the name Ajax to see how it felt on his lips. He let his head fall back against the door as the man- Ajax- continued a trail down his throat. He hummed in content as his lips were captured in a searing kiss once again, only to have the noise turn into a weak whine as Ajax pulled away much sooner than Diluc would have liked.

“Didn’t you have another thing to say, baby?” Ajax questioned, reveling in the hitch in Diluc’s breath at the use of the pet name. Once his words registered with Diluc, he could notice the other man’s demeanor change, suddenly shy. His cheeks were flushed more in embarrassment than arousal, and his hand was nervously fidgeting with the clothes on Ajax’s shoulder. Ajax pulled himself back a bit, trying to give Diluc more room to get out whatever it was that he wanted to say.

“I- I’ve never... I mean, with a, uh, guy, at least... I’ve never, um... done... this,” he stammered out weakly, his words trailing off at the end. Diluc couldn’t bring himself to meet Ajax’s eyes, but he doubted he would’ve been able to read any expression on his face.

There was a moment's pause before Diluc heard Ajax ask, “Do you want to stop?” If there was any judgement in his voice, Diluc certainly couldn’t find it.

If Diluc thought he couldn’t get any more embarrassed than he already was, he was wrong. He internally cringed at how quick he was to respond. “No. No. I want... this. I just... thought you should, uh, know,” he finished weakly. He was emboldened, encouraged to continue by the soft smile on Ajax’s face. “Besides... you still need to follow through with your words,” he taunted, choosing to ignore the flush on his cheeks at the reminder of Ajax’s filthy promises.

The soft grin of Ajax’s face turned sharp as he crowded Diluc against the door once again. He buried his face into the side of the man’s neck, leaving a bite there before whispering against the skin, “Oh, baby. I’m gonna make it so good for you.” He reached down the grab Diluc’s thigh, using the grip he had on his hip with his other hand to lift the redhead, properly pinning him against the door. He smirked at the gasp Diluc let out, the way his legs scrambled to wrap around his waist.

Diluc was thriving. His head was tilted back against the door, his eyes slipped shut in pleasure. Diluc knew he was a large man, his muscles built well and even a bit bulky in some areas. So the way in which Ajax easily lifted him off the ground and was still supporting his weight against the door, was a bit shocking to Diluc. And, apparently, quite the turn on, if the rapid hardening in his pants was anything to go by. Diluc was glad that his long coat was still on, covering what had to be an obvious tent in his pants. He was embarrassed to be so turned on by just a little making out, but perhaps it was just the effect that Ajax had on him.

Ajax continued leaving a trail of bite marks down Diluc’s throat, encouraged by the way Diluc would tilt his head to the side, offering Ajax a larger expanse of skin to mark. “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he muttered into Diluc’s skin darkly. He bit down at a spot at the base of Diluc’s throat rasher harshly, leaving his lips on the skin to suck on the mark, ensuring it would leave a nice bruise. He glanced up at the sound of a muffled whimper to see Diluc biting his bottom lip, no doubt in an attempt to keep his noises at bay.

Ajax let go of his hip, bringing his hand up to thumb at Diluc’s lower lip, urging him to release it from between his teeth. Diluc complied easily, his eyes slipping open when Ajax tutted at him. “Nuh uh, let me hear you, baby. I wanna hear all the beautiful noises you can make,” he smirked slightly at the small whimper that escaped from Diluc’s lips. “Let me hear how good I make you feel,” he finished with a whisper.

Diluc’s hands flew to the back of Ajax’s head, gripping his hair and bringing him down for a sloppy kiss. Ajax groaned into Diluc’s mouth, his tongue slipping between the other’s lips easily. With his free hand, Ajax attempted to push the heavy coat off of Diluc’s shoulders, but with his back pinned against the door, it was futile. He groaned into Diluc’s mouth again, this time in annoyance, before he ripped himself away from the mouth that was quickly becoming addicting.

Diluc could see that Ajax was about to say something, but cut him off. “Bedroom,” he panted out, knowing Ajax was thinking the same thing. Ajax let him down and nodded at him, and that was all Diluc needed. He grabbed the man’s hand, almost running through the manor to get to the stairs, zipping through the halls to get to his bedroom. He led Ajax into the room, seeing Ajax kick the door closed behind him, before he was promptly thrown onto his own bed.

Diluc gasped as he bounced back on the bed, his length twitching in his pants. He quickly kicked off his socks and shoes as he saw Ajax doing the same, before Ajax pounced on him. His mouth was everywhere, leaving kisses and bites so quickly that Diluc couldn’t even process it before he would move on to a new spot. His hands moved in a frenzy as well, hastily reaching for Diluc’s hands to strip him of his gloves.

Ajax pulled at the collar of Diluc’s coat, wanting the material off hours ago. The coat was still proving difficult, as he had to get Diluc to work his arms out of it, and Ajax declared the coat his new nemesis. He slowed his mouth leaving marks all along Diluc’s neck, carefully getting Diluc to help him pull his arms out of the offending jacket. He pulled back a bit to let Diluc sit up so he could throw the coat to the ground, Ajax delighted to finally be rid of it.

As happy as he was to be rid of Diluc’s coat, Ajax groaned in annoyance at the sight of more layers of clothing hiding the bare skin he so desperately wanted to see. He did take a moment to appreciate Diluc in his bartending uniform, the black dress shirt and white vest making him look oh so cute when paired with his flushed face and heaving chest. Ajax dived in again, mouthing at Diluc’s neck. “So. Many. Fucking. Layers,” he huffed out into Diluc’s skin, impatiently undoing the buttons of his vest.

Diluc let out a breathless laugh, his breathing still heavy from all the attention Ajax was giving his neck. “I don’t see you- ah. I don’t see you taking anything off,” he panted out, thinking it was a bit unfair that he was the only one being undressed. He let one of his hands move to Ajax’s hip, sliding up to feel the small stretch of skin that was exposed by the cut of his shirt. He let his hand wander further up beneath Ajax’s shirt, sucking in a breath at the feeling of abs and corded muscle.

Ajax hummed against the skin of Diluc’s neck at the feeling of his hand against his own bare skin. “All in good time, baby,” he chuckled, pulling away as he had finally gotten the vest unbuttoned. “For now, I want to see how beautiful you are under all these clothes,” he murmured as rid Diluc of the vest.

Diluc squirmed against the bed as Ajax slowly undid the buttons of his dress shirt, not used to being stared at so intensely. Ajax’s eyes were glued to where his hands were meticulously undoing each button, hungrily eating up every inch of newly revealed skin. Once he undid the last button, he unceremoniously pushed it to Diluc’s sides, putting his entire bare torso on display.

Ajax could do nothing but stare. The man laid out before him was breathtaking, and he wasn’t even fully undressed yet. Ajax wasn’t sure if he would make it through this night alive. But oh it would be such a glorious death. He was so caught up in letting his eyes wander about the wide expanse of skin that he didn’t notice Diluc wriggling his arms out of the sleeves. He only noticed when Diluc sat up a bit to toss the shirt to the floor, his abs clenching deliciously.

Diluc continued to squirm against the sheets, hating that Ajax was staring at him silently for so long. He didn’t find Diluc unattractive, did he? Diluc knew that much of his muscle mass was pretty well hidden beneath his clothes, but without them, there was no hiding it. He prayed to the gods that Ajax didn’t mind his extra bulk. “Ajax,” he whined softly, a small pout to his lips.

Diluc whining his name finally snapped Ajax out of his reverie. “Gods,” he whispered, letting his gloved hands slide up Diluc’s chest, coming to cup the pectoral muscles. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered again, still entranced by the way the flush on Diluc’s cheeks continued down his neck and to his check, covering the pale skin in bright red splotches. His eyes flicked up to Diluc’s face. “Oh, one more thing.” He reached behind Diluc’s head to undo the ponytail that was holding his hair back. After running his fingers through the locks, he leaned back to admire the view.

And what a view he was. Diluc’s face flushed a bright pink, red splotches of blush littering his beautiful pale skin, his chest rising with each breath he took. All of this, framed by a halo of fiery red hair, the curls spilling out and spreading across the sheets.

Ajax’s patience snapped. He dove down to leave a harsh bite at the meat of Diluc’s pectoral muscle, his hands feverishly wanting to map out every dip and curve.

Diluc let out a small “ah-“ at the harsh bite. A high-pitched keening noise ripped from his throat as Ajax laves his tongue over a nipple.

Ajax chuckled through his nose. “Do you like that? Does it feel good?” he murmured into the skin. Diluc let out a whine in response, which simply wouldn’t do, in Ajax’s opinion. “Diluc baby,” he began, pressing a chaste kiss to the man’s lips. “I want you to answer me when I ask you something, okay? I need to make sure you’re still comfortable and enjoying this. Need to know what makes you feel good. Think you can do that for me?” He grinned as Diluc nodded his head. “Good boy,” he whispered, planting another soft kiss to Diluc’s lips before making his way down his chest again.

Ajax blew on one of Diluc’s nipples softly, enjoying the way Diluc shivered in response. He took the bud lightly between his teeth before closing his lips around it. Diluc let out a soft moan at the feeling of Ajax’s tongue, his hand flying up to rest on the Harbinger’s shoulder. Ajax pulled back enough to purr, “Now let me ask you again. Does that feel good? Do you like getting your nipples played with?”

Ajax smirked to himself when Diluc nodded his head again, before whimpering out an answer. “Y-yeah... yes, it- fuck- it feels good.” Ajax switched his attention to the man’s other nipple, almost getting thrown off his body from how hard his chest was heaving.

Diluc let out another curse. Ajax pulled his mouth back to watch his hands move across the pale skin. His hands came to rest, cupping under the pectoral muscles and pushing them up and together. “Gods, I fucking love your chest,” Ajax breathed to himself; he knew Diluc could hear him from the way his breath hitched in his throat. “Just like a pair of tits,” he mused, squishing the muscles together. He smirked at the way Diluc’s breath was punched from his gut. “So fucking hot...”

Ajax looked up to see that Diluc’s mouth was opening and closing, as if he was trying to say something. “Yes, baby?” he asked, his hands stilling. “Did you want something?”

Diluc nodded, tugging slightly at the material of Ajax’s shirt. “O-off. Please... a-at least the gloves, fuck, please.”

Ajax was now positive he would not survive the night.He couldn’t believe this was Diluc’s first time, not with the way he begged so pretty. He didn’t even need to tell the other to say please. Perhaps he was a natural-born pleaser, Ajax thought to himself.

He snapped his attention back to Diluc when the other tugged at his clothes once more. “Oh, such a good boy, telling me what you want. So polite, too,” he cooed at Diluc. He hummed in consideration for a moment before an idea came to him. He regretfully removed one of his hands from Diluc’s chest, bringing it up to Diluc’s face, the fingertips of his gloves a hairbreadth away from Diluc’s shiny lips. “Would you be so kind as to help me with the gloves, hm?”

Ajax watched in twisted delight as Diluc slowly took the fabric of the middle finger of his glove between his teeth. He pulled his hand back a bit, happy to see Diluc rear his head back, the glove sliding off Ajax’s hand with ease. “Good,” he whispered to himself, taking the glove from Diluc’s mouth. He brought his other hand up, and Diluc helped him out of that glove as well.

Ajax tossed his gloves to the side carelessly, too excited to finally feel Diluc’s skin with his bare hands. He trailed his hands slowly from Diluc’s jaw down his neck, heat pooling in him as Diluc tilted his head further back to allow him more room. He trailed his hands down the other’s chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat, then further down, watching his abs twitch at the featherlight touches.

His hands ended up cupped around Diluc’s pecs once again. His hands massaged the muscle there as he mouthed at the skin. When he heard Diluc let out a pleased sigh, he bit down, gnawing at the muscle between his teeth. The sudden bite caused Diluc to gasp sharply, his eyes flying open to see Ajax’s mouth on his chest. Ajax released the muscle, giving the aggravated area a few licks and kisses to soothe the sting before he smirked up at Diluc. “Do you like me marking up your gorgeous tits? They’re gonna bruise so pretty...” he trailed off, moving to leave a similar bite mark on the other side of Diluc’s chest, a punched out “fuck-“ leaving Diluc’s lips at the sting.

Ajax was mouthing at the newest bite mark when he raised a questioning eyebrow at Diluc. Diluc gulped. “Yes...” he breathed out softly, hoping Ajax could hear him. “Hurts but... f-feels good. P-please don’t st-stop,” he whimpered, moving his free hand to Ajax’s hair in an attempt to keep him in place.

Ajax groaned into the skin of Diluc’s chest, “Gods, you’re such a good boy for me.” He made note of how Diluc’s hips bucked up at that, and filed the thought away for later.

Ajax spent the next few minutes leaving harsh bites all over Diluc’s chest, soothing the mark with kisses each time. Diluc felt as if he was on cloud nine, the deep sting from the initial bite sending electricity up his spine, only for heat to curl in his gut at the kisses left there afterwards. However, he was getting a bit impatient. His dick was rock hard in his pants, and he could feel a wet patch beginning to grow in his boxers. Diluc wanted to get his pants off. Actually, Diluc revised his own thoughts, he wanted to get Ajax out of his clothes even more, the Fatui man not even having shed his shirt yet.

Diluc tightened his hold in Ajax’s hair just slightly, tugging on his shirt with his other hand. “Off... plea- hng- please. W-wanna... wanna see- oh fuck- you too,” Diluc panted out, pleased that he could even get out coherent words at that point.

Ajax would never get tired of hearing Diluc beg. He breathed out a shaky, “Fuck... okay,” before he pulled back enough to tear his shirt off, throwing it who knows where. He could see Diluc eyeing him appreciatively, but didn’t give him much time to enjoy the view before he was kissing the other man senseless.

Diluc groaned into Ajax’s mouth, his hands sliding down the man’s back, finally attaining the skin-on-skin contact he didn’t know he craved. He let his hands wander and feel to make up for what his eyes weren’t able to see. From his exploration, he could tell that the other was covered in scars, both old and new, as well as the fact that he was much stronger than he appeared, corded muscles tense beneath his skin.

Diluc was slightly amused by the fact that Ajax’s hands returned to his chest almost immediately. It made Diluc feel... almost confident, the fact that Ajax seemed to like it so much. So, he arched his back, pushing his chest further into those incessant hands.

“Fuck,” Ajax breathed harshly into Diluc’s mouth. His hands squeezed around the muscles. “So fucking hot,” he panted out, moving to mouth at the other’s jaw. “Bet if I squeezed ‘em together, I could get my dick in between and fuck your tits,” he rambled, words spilling from his mouth before he could really even think about it.

Diluc absolutely keened at that, his head thrown back as a high whine escaped his throat. His reaction only spurred Ajax on. “Yeah? Would you like that baby? Want me to fuck your tits?” he mumbled into Diluc’s skin, the idea almost sending him into a frenzy. Diluc was faring no better. His eyes were pinched shut, pushing his chest out even further, a constant stream of “yes, yes, yes” falling from his lips.

It was only when Diluc desperately ground his hips up into Ajax’s that the Harbinger remembered his main goal for the night. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Maybe later, baby,” he said, chuckling at the small pout Diluc gave him in response. “Definitely later,” he revised, happy to see Diluc perk up at that too. “For now, though,” he trailed his hands down Diluc’s chest, over his abs, and toying with the waistband of his pants. “Let's get you out of these, shall we?”

Diluc was all too eager to lift his hips to help Ajax undress him, any shyness at being bared being overshadowed by his desire. Ajax tossed his pants to the side, eyeing the large bulge in his boxers with a hungry gaze. Diluc let out a breathy whine as Ajax palmed him, finally giving his cock attention. He cursed when Ajax lowered his head to mouth at him through the fabric, hot breath and saliva dampening the material even further. Ajax hummed against his length, breathing out, “Gods, how are you even real?” as his hands slid up Diluc’s thighs.

Diluc cried out as Ajax dug his fingers into the meat of Diluc’s thighs, causing the Harbinger to groan. “Fuck, baby, your thighs,” he whispered reverently against Diluc’s length, feeling it twitch beneath the fabric. He trailed his mouth down to suck a mark into the flesh of the redhead’s inner thigh. “Can I mark ‘em up? Bruise ‘em all nice and pretty to match your tits? Mark ‘em as mine?” Ajax purred.

Diluc sucked in a wet, heaving breath. “Yes, please- oh fuck,” he panted out. He let one of his hands trail to his own chest, pressing his finger into one of the dark red marks that will surely bruise later. “Can you... can you- ah! B-bite? Fuck, please?” Diluc begged, craving the sting of Ajax’s teeth again.

Ajax groaned, reaching a hand down to adjust himself in his pants. “‘Course, baby,” he whispered. He returned his hand, using it to pull Diluc’s boxers off. Diluc squirmed at being fully bare, but Ajax just pressed a sweet kiss to his shaft, his hand wrapped around the base. He let himself begin to ramble as he slowly stroked Diluc’s cock. “Gonna mark up these perfect thighs. Gods, you’re gonna be so bruised tomorrow, you’ll look so gorgeous. Gonna mark you up so everyone knows you’re mine.”

Diluc couldn’t stop the near constant stream of moans and whimpers from leaving his lips. The feeling of Ajax’s hand finally on his dick is heavenly, and the man’s whispered words only add fuel to the fire in his gut. He lets out a sharp cry as Ajax’s teeth sink into the meat of his inner thigh, the noise turning into a low groan as Ajax soothes the sting with his tongue.

Ajax only removed his head from between Diluc’s thighs once he was satisfied that the redhead was as marked up as possible. He really hoped Diluc wouldn’t kick him out once they were done, he wanted to see how well all his marks turned into bruises for himself in the morning. He pulled his mouth away from Diluc’s thighs, stroking a finger over the bite-mark covered skin reverently. “These are gonna look so good, baby,” he murmured. “Can’t wait to see you covered in my bruises.”

Diluc whined, his hips jumping as the pace of Ajax’s hand on his cock had slowed significantly. Ajax must have noticed, because he was soon licking small stripes up the entire length. Small cries and high pitched whimpers were ripped from Diluc’s throat. He turned his head to the side, knowing that the sight of Ajax between his thighs with his mouth on his cock could probably make him cum.

Ajax trailed his lips up the shaft, planting a sloppy kiss right at the tip. “Love this fucking cock,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. He grinned at the moan Diluc let out. “Want me to suck it? Bet you taste so good,” he rambled, eyes eager to see Diluc’s reaction. “I can usually swallow everything, but you’re so big I might just choke on it.” He delighted in the hitch in Diluc’s breath, the way his hips jumped. “I’d love it though, choking on it. I’d let you gag me with it, ‘til I can’t breathe.”

He grinned evilly as Diluc let out a loud whine. “But maybe later.” With that, he sat up completely, leaving only his hand wrapped loosely around the base of Diluc’s length. He chuckled as Diluc balked at him, having had all the pleasurable sensations ripped away. “Sorry baby, but I gotta ask: do you want to top or bottom?” Ajax desperately wanted to fuck the other man, but since it was his first time, he figured he would let the redhead make the decision.

Diluc flushed, averting his eyes. “Oh, I, um, uh... w-want you to... to, um, f-fuck me,” he stammered out before blearing his throat. “Please.”

Ajax wanted so badly to hop on board with that and absolutely destroy the other man, but he felt it was only fair to give him a warning. “Are you sure, baby? It might hurt a bit,” he said cautiously.

Diluc took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Yes, I’m sure. And I- I... I trust you,” he finished quietly.

Ajax smiled, swooping down to press a soft kiss to Diluc’s forehead. “Alright. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” He planted a final kiss on the tip of Diluc’s nose, watching it scrunch up adorably. He patted the man lightly on the hip. “Turn over onto your stomach for me, baby. Also, lube?”

Diluc’s eyes widened a bit, heat rising to his cheeks before he complied, nodding his head toward the nightstand. As he was turning, he heard Ajax rummaging around through the drawer before closing it and tossing the bottle onto the bed next to him. Ajax grabbed a pillow from the headboard and placed it under his hips, making him flush further at the thought of his ass being put on display. Once he was settled, he grabbed a pillow to hug to his chest, giving himself something to keep his hand occupied with. He heard Ajax chuckle behind him, turning his head to look at the man questioningly, only to hear, “Of course you have a perfect ass as well,” spilling from the Harbinger’s lips.

Diluc jumped slightly when Ajax grabbed his ass without ceremony, a handful of cheek in each. He relaxed once again when Ajax began massaging his ass, kneading the flesh in his hands. He let out a soft hum, content. He didn’t even notice that Ajax had pulled his cheeks apart until he felt a thumb softly run over his hole. He jolted in surprise, making Ajax pull away, a worried look in his eyes. Diluc turned his head to the side, but wouldn’t make eye contact. “Sorry, sorry” he breathed out. “Just... surprised me. Keep going. Please,” he finished weakly.

Ajax wasn’t entirely convinced. “You sure?” he asked, not wanting to cause Diluc any discomfort. Diluc nodded his head eagerly where it lay on the pillow, and Ajax let out a bated breath. He put his hands back on Diluc’s ass, comforted by the way Diluc seemed to immediately relax into the touch. “Have you ever had anything in you before?” he asked quietly.

Diluc turned to hide more of his face into his pillow. “Mmfnhfnggrz” was the muffled response. Ajax could guess as to what was said, but he really wanted to hear Diluc say it himself. He continued to massage Diluc’s asscheeks, thumbs occasionally brushing the skin closer to his crack, but never getting any closer to his hole. “Hm, what was that baby? I couldn’t understand you.”

Ajax grinned as Diluc turned his head to face him more, his face almost as red as his hair, his eyes looking anywhere but at the Harbinger. “I- I’ve used, um... my- my fingers before,” he whispered.

Ajax’s grin morphed into a soft smile, encouraging Diluc to continue. “Mhmm. And how did it feel baby?” He tutted when Diluc buried his head in his pillow again, groaning in shame. “Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. I’m just trying to get more familiar with what your comfort level is. Like I said, I’m gonna make this good for you,” he explained, leaving a trail of soft kisses up Diluc’s spine.

Diluc turned his head to the side once again, his eyes pinching shut. “It felt...” he began, trailing off as he thought about the answer. “Fine,” he answered decisively. “Felt... felt full, it- it was good,” he sighed, the memory of his own fingers inside him fresh in his mind. “But it, uh, w-wasn’t enough to...” he trailed off, hoping Ajax would understand what he meant.

Ajax’s mind was reeling, head filled with thoughts and visions of Diluc desperately trying to fuck himself on his fingers, only to cry out in frustration when he can’t hit that perfect spot inside him. If he could ever get Diluc into bed with him again, he would need to make the redhead ringer himself open for him; Ajax was sure it would be an excellent show.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Diluc’s hips twitched a bit, pushing his ass back into Ajax’s hands. He planted one final kiss to Diluc’s shoulder before sitting up once again. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good you’ll see stars,” he chuckled breathlessly, watching as Diluc minutely thrusted into the pillow beneath his hips.

Diluc startled at the snap of the lube cap opening, relaxing again as Ajax pressed a comforting kiss on one of his cheeks. He inhaled sharply as Ajax’s thumbs spread his cheeks apart once more. “Gods, I’d love to eat you out one day,” he heard the Harbinger mumble into his skin, his hips thrusting against the pillow weakly at the thought. Ajax must’ve noticed, for he continued, “Would you like that, baby? Would you let me eat your ass?” As he said it, one of his hands disappeared, only to return moments later, spreading warmed lube across Diluc’s entrance with a thumb.

Diluc’s breath caught in his throat at the familiar feeling of the substance. What wasn’t familiar, however, was the feeling of someone’s else’s hands doing the work. They had barely even started, but Diluc already decided that he liked this much better than doing it himself.

The redhead’s breath escaped him in a shaky exhale as Ajax pushed just the tip of his thumb in, the rim fluttering around the intrusion. Ajax was keeping a keen eye out for any signs of discomfort from Diluc; when he found none, he slowly edged his thumb further in, up to the first knuckle. Diluc let out a quiet moan, his hips pushing back when Ajax stilled. Encouraged, Ajax continued.

He twisted his thumb around a bit, feelings Diluc’s walls stretch around him. He pulled his thumb this way and that, stretching the rim a bit further. Diluc was humming softly, quiet moans falling from his lips every so often. Ajax removed his thumb, smiling at the whine that escaped Diluc’s throat from the loss. He shushed the redhead quietly, leaving soft kisses along his thighs.

Ajax slid his index finger into Diluc, meeting little resistance. He reveled in the moan the man let loose, his volume having increased ever so slightly. He slid his finger in to the base, Diluc’s shoulders tensing a bit. “Doing okay?” Ajax asked softly, stilling his hand.

“Yeah,” Diluc gasped out. “Keep going.”

Ajax nodded softly, despite the fact that Diluc couldn’t actually see him. He slowly pulled his finger out until only the tip remained inside, and was just as slow in pushing it back in. Ajax was doing his best to go slow, despite his desire to just ram into the man below him, but the groan Diluc let out and the way his hips pushed back into his finger were really testing his restraint.

“So fucking good,” Ajax mumbled. He curled his finger a bit inside Diluc, the man letting out a whine. He removed his finger, two returning to Diluc’s hole before the redhead could even protest the loss. He slid his fingers in slowly, two being more of a stretch, pleased when Diluc only pushed his hips back further. “Take my fingers so well,” he murmured reverently. He paused as his fingers met some resistance around his knuckles, pulling them back only to push back in, loosening Diluc’s rim more.

Ajax slowly fucked his two fingers in and out of Diluc’s hole, the redhead letting out wet, panting breaths into the pillow he had clutched to his chest. After a short bit of time doing this, Ajax was able to slide both fingers in entirely, letting out a shaky breath at the delicious groan Diluc let out. He stilled, mesmerized by the sight and feeling of Diluc’s rim clenching around the base of his fingers.

Diluc felt his hips twitch involuntarily in impatience. He turned his head to look at the man behind him, his face partially obscured by his own fiery red curls. “M-move... pl- please, more,” he whimpered out, desperate for the feel of Ajax’s fingers stretching him open.

Ajax let out a low groan as he retracted his fingers slowly. He pushed them back in quickly, grinning at the way Diluc’s breath was punched from his gut. He repeated the action, Diluc letting out a low moan this time. He continued this, withdrawing slowly, only to push back in quickly- quickly, but not very rough. At some point, Ajax realized he couldn’t hear Diluc’s noises as well, looking up to find the man biting at his pillow.

Ajax tsked, using his free hand to grab some of Diluc’s hair and pull. A split second after he did it, he thought that he really should’ve been gentler, but the high, unabashed keen that was ripped from Diluc’s throat quelled his worries. He brought his lips down to Diluc’s ear, using the grip in his hair to get Diluc to arch his back just ever so slightly. “Nuh uh, baby. You gotta let me hear those beautiful noises, remember? You need to let me know how good I’m making you feel, hm?” he whispered, grinning dearly when Diluc took in a gulping gasp of air, his head nodding as much as it could with the grip Ajax still had on his hair. “Good boy.” He planted a kiss in Diluc’s hair, rewarding the man by twisting the fingers he still had inside him.

Diluc gasped at the feeling of the fingers inside him twisting, only for them to begin spreading apart, scissoring him open. This was always his favorite part of fingering himself, the feeling of his rim loosening, stretching further. He could never reach very far inside himself, but he did enjoy the feeling of being full. He enjoyed Ajax’s fingers much more than his own, as they were able to fill him as he desired, but they could also reach deep, hitting spots inside Diluc that had never been touched before.

“Feel good?” Ajax asked, snapping Diluc’s attention back to reality. Diluc heard a constant stream of soft whines and deep groans, embarrassed to find that he was the one making those noises. “Love the way you sound,” Ajax murmured, causing Diluc to flush, a sharp gasp leaving his lips as Ajax’s fingers curled inside him. “Yeah, just like that. Gods, so fucking hot.” Ajax slowed his fingers. “Tell me how it feels, baby,” the Harbinger ordered.

“Feels... oh fuck, good, feels so good,” Diluc blurted out, his pride nowhere to be found. “P-please, want- want... ah- want m-more,” he whimpered. “F-feel... mmmn- full, f-fuck. N-need... full, ple- hnngg- please?” Diluc really hoped that Ajax knew what he was begging for, because he sure didn’t know himself. “W-want- FUCK!” He cried out as Ajax curled his fingers just so, pressing against a spot inside him that made him dizzy with pleasure. He almost jackknifed off the bed, but Ajax’s free hand was quick to clamp down on his hip, keeping him firmly in place.

Ajax grinned sharply when he found the redhead’s prostate, his grin only growing at Diluc’s reaction, despite having to hold the man down. He stilled his fingers for a moment, knowing Diluc would need some time to collect himself. “Wh-... what was that?” Diluc asked hoarsely.

Ajax laughed. “That’s your prostate, baby. Really sensitive,” he explained, soothing his thumb over Diluc’s hip as the man was still taking shaky breaths. His grin turned wicked. “I told you I would make you see stars, didn’t I?” He fucked his fingers into Diluc’s hole again at the same angle, basking in the sharp cry that was ripped from Diluc’s throat. “Tell me how good it feels,” he whispered, his fingers continuing their motion.

Diluc had never felt such intense pleasure in his entire life. He felt as if Ajax’s two fingers had fucked the sanity out of him. “So- fuck- so good... yes, fuck, oh gods... m-more, pl- ah- please,” he begged, words spilling from his lips before he could even process what it was that he was even saying. A filthy noise was ripped from Diluc’s throat when Ajax added a third finger, still hitting the same spot inside him. Ajax had been thorough enough that the additional finger didn’t cause any pain, but Diluc reveled in the extra feeling of fullness.

When Ajax switched to keeping his fingers stuffed inside Diluc, fingertips massaging and rubbing circles into that sensitive spot inside him, Diluc’s hips began thrusting. He wasn’t quite sure if he was thrusting back into Ajax’s hands, or forward, rutting his dick into the pillow beneath his hips. All he knew was that he wanted more. As Ajax continued his ministrations with his fingers, Diluc could feel heat pooling in his gut. “Fuck, fuck, gods yes... so- hnngg- so full,” he panted out. “P-please, I’m- ah!- close, fuck, please.”

Ajax’s eyes lit up, hungrily watching Diluc rut between the pillow and his hand. “Yeah? You gonna cum on my fingers? Just from being stuffed full?” he teased sadistically, harshly thrusting his fingers in further for emphasis. He grinned manically, his dick positively leaking in his pants, at the noise Diluc let loose, almost sounding like a sob. Gods, he would love to fuck the redhead to the point of tears. He ground his fingers into Diluc’s prostate insistently. “Be a good boy and cum for me. Cum on my fingers, baby,” he murmured reverently.

Ajax was in awe. There was simply no other word for it. He watched as Diluc rutted into the pillow beneath him, suddenly freezing at his words, body tensed, as he let out a garbled whine high in his throat. The redhead was positively shaking through his orgasm, tremors running through his entire body as Ajax’s fingers worked him through his high. He retracted his fingers carefully once Diluc’s shoulders had finally relaxed again, his body still shaking.

The Harbinger gently coaxed Diluc to roll over onto his back, tossing the soiled pillow off the bed in the process. Ajax fell over top of him, leaving gentle kisses along the skin of his neck. “So wonderful, did so good for me,” he whispered the soothing words. “Perfect, just perfect.”

Diluc worked to open his eyes a fraction from where they were pinched shut, his body still wracked with tremors. “A-aren’t you g-gonna... f-fuck me? Y-you still ha- haven’t...” he trailed off, attempting to weakly gesture toward the rather obvious tent in Ajax’s pants with a shaky hand.

Ajax cooed at him. How sweet of him, he thought to himself. “Oh baby, you don’t need to worry about me.”

Diluc frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “B-but... w-want you t-to fuck me? P-please?”

Ajax groaned at that. “Baby... you’re still going to be so sensitive,” he explained, trailing his fingers down to Diluc’s hips. The way Diluc’s hips twitched even at the light touch proving his point. “Are you sure?”

Diluc nodded his head eagerly. “Y-yes, please. W-want it. Wanna f-feel, feel you.” He could already feel his dick begin to twitch in interest again, and knew that it certainly wouldn’t take very long for him to get hard again.

Ajax sucked in a breath at that. “Gods, you’re incredible,” he whispered softly before continuing, his voice raised so that Diluc could hear. “Alright, baby, I’ll fuck you. You just have to let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?” When Diluc nodded, Ajax all but ripped his own pants off, eager to finally give his dick some attention.

Diluc was trying to angle his head to get a look at what Ajax had been hiding in his pants the whole night, curiosity taking over him, but the sound of the lube cap snapping open once more jolted him. Ajax hung his head over Diluc’s chest, letting out a soft hiss at his dick finally getting some contact. Diluc felt a sticky hand lightly pat the outside of his thigh. “Can you spread your legs for me, baby?” Ajax asked. Diluc complied, spreading his thighs apart, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as he slipped his eyes closed.

Ajax positioned his hands, one on Diluc’s hip, and the other grabbing the back of his thigh, pushing his knee towards his chest. He internally appreciated the flexibility of the man. He positioned the tip of his cock just outside Diluc’s hole, feeling the rim flutter at the contact. “I’ll go slow, okay?” He whispered into Diluc’s neck.

Diluc nodded, not trusting his voice enough to respond. He gasped sharply as the pressure against his rim increased, letting out a breathy cry as he felt the tip of Ajax’s length breach the ring of muscle. Diluc’s hands flew to Ajax’s shoulders once the Harbinger had gotten the head of his cock inside, nails digging into the flesh there. He could barely hear the deep groan that was ripped from Ajax’s throat over his own pounding heartbeat and gasping breaths.

Ajax had to still once he had gotten the head of his dick inside Diluc, worried he might cum if he pressed any further. Diluc was just so tight, wrapped deliciously around him. After taking a moment to collect himself, Ajax pressed further. It was overwhelming. All the punched out little “ah, ah, ah”s Diluc was letting out, the feeling of nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, the heat wrapped around his length, everything was flooding his senses.

He was about three-quarters of the way in when he was finally met with some resistance, Diluc tensing beneath him. Ajax peppered his face with kisses, stroking soothing thumbs over the skin of his hips and thighs. “Shhh, you’re doing so good, baby, so good,” he whispered. “You’re almost there, Diluc, only a little bit left. Don’t you want to take me? Don’t you want to be a good boy and take all of me?” He began slowly moving his length in and out of Diluc, never pushing any deeper.

Diluc sucked in a heaving breath, his chest trembling slightly. “Y-yeah,” he whispered, face positively burning. “K-keep going. Please.” Diluc let out a whimper when Ajax continued to press forward slowly, the stretch slightly uncomfortable, but eventually turning into a twisted form of pleasure that he couldn’t exactly describe.

Ajax’s head fell to Diluc’s shoulder with a moan when he finally bottomed out, drowning out the small whine from Diluc. “Good job, baby,” he panted out. “That’s everything. Can you feel me stretching you out? Tell me how good it feels,” he asked Diluc, needing to take another moment to compose himself before he came immediately.

“I- It’s a lot,” he rasped out. “S-so big, fuck. F-feel so... mmmn- so full.” He wriggled his hips back, wanting to feel more of the length inside him. He stilled once he felt the grip of Ajax’s hands tighten, the one on his thigh digging into a mark the Harbinger had left there. “Y-you can move,” he whispered, giving Ajax permission to do as he pleased.

Ajax groaned as he moved to mouth at the marks on Diluc’s chest, pleased to see that Diluc’s cock was hard once again. He pulled his hips back at a snail’s pace, until only the tip was left inside. He felt Diluc’s hole clench around him. “Baby, I am not gonna last very long,” he laughed out weakly. With that, he slid back in just as slowly, listening to the symphony of Diluc’s whimpers and whines.

After a few thrusts at such a sluggish pace, Diluc began to squirm. “F-faster... pl- ah- please,” he whispered.

Ajax’s patience was stretched thin. He was going so slow, making sure not to hurt Diluc, when all he wanted to do was ram the man into the mattress. He picked up his pace at Diluc’s plea, still going slower than he would like, but it still felt incredible. He swooped to capture Diluc’s lips in a kiss, swallowing all the gasps, grunts, whines, and moans the man let out at the increase in pace.

Eventually, Ajax’s pace had gradually increased to the point where he could hear his hips slapping against Diluc’s own. He tore himself away from the redhead’s mouth, moving to sit up on his knees in between Diluc’s spread legs, taking in the sight before him.

Diluc looked... wrecked. His chest was flushed a deep red, covered in bite marks, and positively heaving with every breath he took. His thighs, also covered in Ajax’s marks, were quivering in the Harbinger’s hold. And his face- wait, Ajax thought to himself.

His expression was obscured, an arm thrown over his face to cover it. Ajax halted his thrusts, keeping himself buried to the hilt. He ground his hips into Diluc’s slowly, taking in Diluc’s low groan. He let go of the man’s thigh, reaching up to grab Diluc’s wrist, pinning it to the bed above his head. “Let me see you, baby,” he cooed. “Wanna see your pretty little faces.” He let out a deep hum, feeling Diluc clench around him. “Gods, love seeing how wrecked you look. All from my cock.”

Diluc whined high in his throat, partially embarrassed at having Ajax see him in such a debauched state. But if he was being honest, he was feeling so good that he began to forget why he even cared. He nodded absently at what Ajax had said, then suddenly threw his head back as the Harbinger resumed his thrusts.

Ajax sped his hips up, pounding into Diluc now. He moved his hand from Diluc’s hip to wrap around the man’s cock, keeping his other hand where it was pinning Diluc’s arm above his head. Diluc cried out at the contact, his head thrashing about. Ajax angled his hips, aiming to hit that spot inside Diluc that made him see stars. He knew he had hit his target once Diluc let out a sob.

Ajax sped up the hand on the redhead’s cock, feral grin growing as he saw a tear spill from where Diluc’s eyes were pinched shut. “F-fuck, yes. I- I’m cl- mmmn- close. ‘M g-gonna cum, fuck.” Diluc’s cries rang through Ajax’s head as he panted harshly.

“Fuck, so tight. Look at you, crying on my cock,” his thrusts became sporadic as he saw more tears sliding down Diluc’s cheeks. “Open your eyes, baby. Want you to look at me when you cum, make sure you know I’m the one making you feel this good.” He groaned low in his throat when Diluc complied, ruby red eyes opening and locking onto his, hazy and fogged over with pleasure. Ajax watched in awe as more tears spilled over, bottom eyelashes wet and clumped together.

Diluc’s hips bucked into Ajax’s hand, the coil of heat in his gut about to snap. “Fuck,” he whimpered weakly. A sob was ripped from him as he shot his release over Ajax’s hand and across his own stomach, some even reaching his chest. He continued to sob, more tears leaking from his eyes as Ajax continued to stroke him through his high, his cock never stopping it’s thrusting into Diluc’s ass. He thought he could hear Ajax let out something that sounded like a curse, but couldn’t decipher what language it was in.

Ajax continued pounding into Diluc and stroking his dick until the man began to wince and whimper, body wracked in tremors once more. He let go of the man’s cock, spent length flopping into the mess on his stomach. He tore himself from Diluc’s hole; if he hadn’t been about two seconds away from cumming, he would’ve felt bad at the sharp wince he saw from Diluc. However, as it was, his only concern was getting himself off. He crawled his way up Diluc’s body in his knees until he was straddling the man’s ribs. His hand (partially covered in Diluc’s release, Ajax noticed belatedly) flew to his own dick as he began stroking himself desperately.

A filthy groan was ripped from his throat. His hand was flying in his cock, Diluc’s cum making the slide wet and slick. He pitched forward, breath knocked out of him as he saw Diluc’s eyes squint open blearily. His eyes darted to where he was stroking himself, only to notice that beneath his dick (which was an angry red) was Diluc’s chest, marked up with forming bruises and bite marks, a few streaks of pearly white completing the masterpiece.

“Can I- ah- cum on your chest, baby? Get it all messy? All over those pretty marks?” he panted, hoping Diluc would give him permission because he was going to cum within the next ten seconds. He gasped sharply as Diluc nodded, dazed. “Fuck,” he bit out aggressively. “Gonna cum on your pretty tits, baby.” With that, he came, shooting ropes of cum over Diluc’s chest exactly as promised. He took wheezing, gasping breaths of air in as he continued to stroke himself, riding out his high.

Diluc let his eyes slip shut, letting out a content hum as his chest was covered. Ajax hunched over him, dropping his head so that their foreheads were touching. “You did... so good, baby,” Ajax panted out, Diluc preening at the words. Once Ajax released Diluc’s hand that he had pinned to the mattress, Diluc slowly moved it to Ajax’s hair, bringing the man down for a kiss.

It was a rather pathetic kiss, more just panting into each other’s mouths. But it felt oh so intimate, just holding each other close after they both reached their highs, hands softly caressing any skin they could reach.

Ajax fluttered around Diluc’s face, leaving kisses on his skin and whispering praises between each brush of lips. “Such a good boy.” A kiss to Diluc’s temple. “So wonderful.” A kiss to his cheek. “Just beautiful.” A kiss to his forehead. “So perfect for me.” A kiss to his lips.

Ajax took a deep breath, resolving himself to finally sitting up and pulling away from Diluc. He clambered off of the man, eyes darting around the room in hopes to find his (or Diluc’s, honestly) boxers somewhere on the floor. Once he spotted them, he rolled off the bed and snatched them up. As he was pulling them up his legs, he noticed Diluc watching him with a small frown, eyes questioning.

“W- ... what are you doing?” he asked softly, his voice weak. Ajax delighted in hearing how hoarse his voice sounded, the way the words came out slightly raspy.

He finished pulling his boxers on, turning to Diluc with a soft smile. “Gotta get us cleaned up, baby. Bathroom is this way?” he asked, pointing to a door which he assumed led to the bathroom. At Diluc’s small nod, he went in. He couldn’t take in how impressive the bathroom was or how organized Diluc kept his things, too focused on trying to find a washcloth or a towel. After digging through some drawers, he finally found some washcloths. He used one to quickly clean himself up. Grabbing another one, he ran the cloth under warm water, soaking the fabric and wringing it out to make it damp, but not dripping.

He returned to the bedroom, washcloth in hand, to find Diluc slightly more alert, but still pretty out of it. He crawled onto the bed next to Diluc, slowly wiping up the mess on his stomach. As Ajax moved the cloth up to clean his chest, Diluc’s head fell to rest on his shoulder. He planted a kiss to the crown of Diluc’s head once he deemed the man clean. “Do you want some fresh clothes to put on, baby?” he asked in a whisper, not wanting to shock Diluc out of his relaxed state.

Diluc hummed in agreement. “Boxers... Top drawer,” he muttered softly, nodding his head towards a dresser by his closet. He felt immediately cold as soon as Ajax left his side again. He shivered slightly, watching the man rummage through the drawer he pointed out, coming back with a new pair of simple black boxers. Diluc felt his cheeks heat up as Ajax dressed him, pressing kisses to the skin of his legs as he dragged the fabric up.

Diluc sighed in content, happy to have Ajax next to him again. They stayed like that for a while, Diluc’s head resting on Ajax’s chest. Ajax was drawing small patterns into his biceps from where the Harbinger had his arms wrapped around him. They stayed like that until Diluc began to get drowsy, his breaths evening out and his eyes slipping shut. He was sleepy enough that he almost didn’t notice as Ajax slowly removed himself from beneath him, only noticing once he was completely off the bed. His eyes blinked open blearily, seeing Ajax tiptoe around his room in search of his clothes.

“Where are you going?” he asked sleepily, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Ajax froze, the sound of Diluc’s voice startling him. He turned to the man. “I, uh, gotta grab my clothes. I, um, I figured you’d want me to leave, but I can’t exactly go without-“ he cut himself off as Diluc shook his head, then uttered the one word he had been hoping to hear all night.

“Stay.”

[luxekook]

𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥 | 𝘬𝘵𝘩

⇥ pairing: quadruplet!taehyung x reader

⇥ genre: crack, smut

⇥ summary: in which the reader lives next door to taehyung… and his three brothers. she doesn’t realize they’re quadruplets until it’s just a little too late.

⇥ word count: 7.5k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing/dirty talk, alcohol, general chaotic energy [as usual], one hard dom!taehyung and three soft dom!taehyungs, sub!reader, pet name: kitten, smut (breast worship, oral [f receiving], bondage, spanking, slight degrading name-calling during sex, mention of daddy kink, ownership kink, four taehyungs lovin’ on the **READER** [***NOT EACH OTHER***])

⇥ beta’d by: the lovely phia (@meowxyoong​) and the cutie ally (@ally-127), and read over by the iconic heath (@shadowsremedy)

The Kim Quadruplets:

Mic Drop!Tae as “V” Boy With Luv!Tae as “Vante” Pied Piper!Tae as “Hansung” ON!Tae as “Taehyung”

Of all the days to forget your umbrella, your brain just had to choose today. You cursed your faulty memory as you shuffled your drenched sneakers across the ‘Welcome’ mat of your apartment building. As someone who prided themselves on being prepared and dependable, you were thoroughly angry at yourself for dropping the ball. Lightning flashed through the windows of the lobby, but you barely flinched - already used to the noise after a lengthy walk home from work.

You worked part-time at a small indie coffee shop called ‘Grind On Me’, which was located halfway across town. The shop was owned by an eccentric middle-aged woman named Reese who still had not gotten over the tragic loss of Vine. The menu was full of references to the fallen application: “Oovoo Java”, “Coulda Dropped My Croissant”, “Avocado Toast, Thanks!”, and “Back At It Again With The Refill”.

The best part of your job was definitely fucking around with your co-workers Jess and Cal. Reese often scheduled the three of you together because your “combined chaotic energy” was “on-brand”. Basically, the three of you would spend your shifts roasting coffee and roasting each other, while Reese looked on like a proud mom. You loved it.

The rest of your time was filled with school. You were up to your neck in your studies; but, with just one semester left until graduation, you were more determined than ever to stick it out. As a literature major, you spent many hours hunched over your trusty MacBook, fingers flying across the keys. Creating new worlds and constructing well-rounded characters was intoxicating. Every new document was a chance to bring ideas to life, an opportunity to make someone laugh or cry, a possibility to both mend and break hearts.

But, your absolute guiltiest pleasure was writing romance - and not the lovey-dovey kind. No, you wrote the racy kind of romance: the heart-pounding smut, the kinky (well-written and well-researched) BDSM, the raunchiest threesomes. You always wondered what your professors would think if you submitted one of your erotic novels to be graded; but, for now, you settled for posting to your loyal audience on Tumblr and for fantasizing about someday fulfilling the filthy scenes you wrote about.

Your most recent fantasy was inspired by the rainfall. Kissing in the midst of a storm like people did in those cliché movies… fucking as the rain poured over you… hands sliding down your slippery skin…

“Woah.” Hands grabbed your hips, halting you from continuing to walk forward absentmindedly. You jumped, your mind jarred from your fantasy and back to reality.

“I am so sorry,” You breathed out, “My mind was somewhere else.”

“I’ll say,” The deepest and most divine voice you had ever heard sounded from the figure in front of you. You looked up, desperate to know the source of such a dulcet tone. You were not disappointed.

The boy was beautiful.

His skin was the color of warm honey, his dark eyes sparkled with bad intentions, his full lips curled into a sly grin. “I would pay good money to know what you were thinking about just now, kitten,” The boy’s grin widened, displaying a cute boxy smile that did nothing to take away from the implications of his words.

“I’m not your kitten,” You glared at the blonde boy in front of you, shoving aside both his hands and the traitorous warmth that bloomed inside you at the pet name. With those words, you sidestepped around him and trudged to go check your mail. Your heart flipped in your chest when you heard the soft pitter-patter of footsteps following close behind you.

“Ever heard of an umbrella, kitten?” You could hear his smile in his infuriating words, and you shot him a glare.

“Yes, actually. Have you ever heard of manners?” You bit out, punching in the key code to your small mailbox.

The boy’s laugh sent a shiver down your spine that you tried to rationalize as a chill. God, he was maddeningly handsome. You grabbed the small bunch of letters shoved in your mailbox and were so ready to hightail it out of there, when he grabbed your wrist.

The sight of his long fingers wrapped around your wrist made your mind flash to scenes of him holding your wrists above your head as he thrusts, hips swiveling and pounding into you… him holding your wrists behind your back as he kneels in front of you, tongue deep in your—

“Kitten.” Your attention snapped back to him, your eyes wide and your cheeks flushed. Fuck, you really needed to shut your inner ho of a writer off sometimes…

He winked, “Next time you’re going to have to share what’s going on in that head of yours. I’ll be seeing you around, neighbor.”

With those parting words, he sauntered out of the mailroom, flipping the hood of his grey sweatshirt up over his wavy blonde strands as he tugged his dark bomber jacket closer around him.

Neighbor?

You were so fucked.

A few days later, you still had not forgotten your blonde self-proclaimed neighbor, no matter how hard you tried. And, god, you had tried. No amount of smutty fan fiction or archaic romance tropes could quell your thirst.

You didn’t even know his name.

Jess and Cal had urged you to just knock on his door and introduce yourself, but you knew it wasn’t that simple. First, you had more than one apartment neighboring yours. You were not about to knock on each and every door in your hallway to find some mystery boy - even if he did call you kitten and smelled like summer nights. Second, you had already written so much filth inspired by your brief encounter that you feared you might not survive being in the same vicinity as him without spontaneously combusting or jumping on him.

And third, you were just so intimidated by him and his dominating presence. Even though you spent just a few minutes with him, you knew that you would have fallen to your knees before him if he’d demanded it… And he really looked like the type to demand.

Now every damn time you entered your apartment building, your eyes sought him out. You jumped out of your skin at every ding of the elevator, half fearing and half hoping he might be getting off. Your heart pounded whenever you walked down your hallway to unlock your door, waiting for him to swing open his own door to greet you with a smirk and some sarcastic words.

But, nothing had happened. And you were beginning to think he might have just been a rain-induced hallucination. Those were a thing, right?

You shook yourself out of your disastrous train of thought. Your shift at ‘Grind On Me’ was approaching, and you really needed to make some money. Rent, unfortunately, just didn’t pay itself. Tugging on your non-slip black sneakers, you made sure to grab your umbrella - just like you had the previous couple days, despite the clear forecast. You would not be caught out - or called out - again.

You push open your apartment door, shoving your umbrella deep into your tote bag and stepping out into the hall. You were entirely unprepared for the sight you were met with.

The boy from earlier that week was fumbling near the door across from you with what looked like an entire art store crammed into half a dozen reusable bags. He was mumbling about some Han character who couldn’t “get off his ass for one second to help him”. And, his hair was a bright shade of blue.

His. Hair. Was. Blue.

You must have made some sort of choking noise because suddenly he whipped around to face you. His wide eyes latched onto yours, and you couldn’t help but think that there was something peculiar about him today - even besides the hair.

A light flush bloomed on the boy’s face that you were sure was mirrored on your own tenfold. Shit, he really could pull off that shade of blue… Your eyes involuntarily slid lower to check out his white slouchy ‘CELINE” t-shirt, his black Adidas sweatpants, his bag hung casually off one muscular shoulder. You swallowed suddenly craving some water.

“Uh, hey, neighbor,” You waved at him idiotically as he continued to just stare. You lowered your hand and fought the urge to smack yourself for your lame actions.

The boy blinked and then smiled that same boxy smile as before, “Hi! I would wave back, but I’m kind of tied down right now.”

You let out a very uncharacteristic giggle, “And I would offer to help you, but I’m already late for work. Don’t worry, I have my umbrella this time.”

Grabbing your umbrella from your bag, you waved it briefly in the air before returning it to its resting place. “Bye!” You called over your shoulder at the bewildered blue-haired boy, “Love the new hair by the way!”

“Uh, thank you?” He called after you. As you stepped into the elevator, you swore you heard him say something about having good weather with no chance of rain, but you were too busy thinking about how nice he was today.

And about how he didn’t call you kitten.

You were so, so fucked.

When you got to work, you were immediately bombarded with questions from Jess and Cal.

Jess: “Wait. His hair is blue now? Does he look like a hot Smurf?”

Cal: “So, no “kitten”? Throws phone. Stomps on skateboard.”

You: “Did you just try to use the ‘So No Head' Vine out loud?”

Reese: "She sure did." *wipes away tear proudly*

They continued to clown on you for another hour while some of your favorite regulars filed in and out, grabbing their late afternoon coffees.

One of your particular favorites was an enigmatic individual named Heath. You, Jess and Cal were about 85% certain that Heath was a sugar daddy based on his regular order (the "Valentino Flat White") and the large amount of tips he always left (at least $20 for each barista on duty).

Another favorite customer of yours was Tay. She tended to skulk in the corner of the cafe, typing away on her phone and occasionally letting out loud bursts of laughter. Once, you had asked what she was writing, but she just looked at you like you had asked for her darkest secret. You figured it was something juicy.

Sighing, you checked the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time that evening - 6:50PM. Two more hours til you could go home, throw on some sweatpants, and drink a glass of cheap wine.

Wiping down the coffee bar, you heard a throat clear behind you. "Be right with you!" You called over your shoulder, placing the wipe in the garbage before turning to take their order.

"Oh," You gasped as you took in the new customer, "Your hair!"

"My hair?" Your neighbor that you had seen just hours before tugged his hands through his now-brown waves, "Is there something wrong with it..." His dark eyes flicked to your name-tag, “(y/n)?”

"N-no," You gulped, wondering what happened to the cute blushing blue-haired boy from earlier. Your neighbor really was giving you whiplash with his different moods. "What can I get for you?"

"Your number." His boxy grin was lethal, his voice was sultry.

You blinked at him. "You could have just knocked on my door later if you needed me."

His eyebrows flew up, "Oh really? I like the sound of that. You'd have to give me your address though, kitten."

"Very funny," You scoffed. Your insides turned to mush over the return of the nickname that you hated to love. "Now, seriously, what can I get for you?"

"Surprise me," He winked, handed you $50 and sauntered to a nearby table.

Gaping, you shook yourself out of your trance and got to work on his 'surprise' - an "I Thought You Were Americano".

"Who is that?" You jumped two feet in the air at Jess' hissed question. She was hovering right behind you as you poured the espresso into his to-go cup.

"My fucking hair chameleon of a neighbor!" You whispered back, conveying your panic, “Deliver this to him, would you?“ You tried in vain to shove the hot Americano into Jess' hands but she dodged your efforts.

"Oh no, bitch,” She laughed, "I am going to watch from afar as this plays out."

"Goddamn you," You shot her your best side-eye and stalked off to deliver the drink to your godforsaken neighbor.

The boy in question flicked his eyes up to look at you as you approached his table. He was wearing a flowy button-down shirt with at least four of the buttons undone, showcasing a tan and very toned chest. His legs were spread wide, encased in tight black slacks that left little to the imagination.

You gulped, trying not to imagine yourself perched on his lap and grinding into his hard––

"See something you like, kitten?" You jerked out of your daze and looked at his amused face. "I know I do."

You decided to be bratty. "Nope, nothing too impressive for me to see." You smiled sweetly as you deposited his drink on the table in front of him.

He licked his lips slowly, "God, if you were mine..." He trailed off, eyes narrowed on yours. Your mouth dried as the image of the two of you in a dark bedroom flashed into your mind. You sprawled out across his lap, his hands smacking your ass, your underwear pulled to the side…

“Yeah, you get the picture,” Your neighbor’s crooked smirk was downright obscene as his eyes flashed to your lips briefly. “I’ll see you later tonight, kitten. You know, when I come knocking at your door.”

With that parting remark, he stood, raised his americano in your direction, and strutted out the door.

You stood rooted to the spot, gaping after him for god knows how long.

“She’s gotta move at some point,” Cal’s voice vaguely sounded from the side of you.

“I don’t know,” Jess’ response sounded from your other side, “I once saw her stare out at a speck of dust for like fifteen minutes straight.”

That got you. “It was not fifteen minutes!” You defended yourself, “And it’s not my fault that I happened to be writing a coffeehouse AU at that time!”

Your friends cackled as you stomped back behind the counter.

Your friends were evil, and so was your neighbor, of that you were certain.

And you were so, so, so fucked.

Hours later, you were still thinking about your fucking neighbor. Why were you only meeting him now? Why was his hair always changing colors? Why did he fuck with you so much? Why did you like it?

All of these questions bounced around your brain as you entered your building, your eyes seeking out the boy instinctively. But, as before, he was nowhere to be seen.

You shuffled over to the ancient elevator and punched the 'Up' button a few more times than necessary. Something must be wrong with you. You were way too infatuated with your way too infuriating neighbor.

The elevator doors parted, and you automatically sighed in relief and disappointment as you entered the empty space. Pushing the button to your floor, you waited for the doors to close.

“Wait!”

A shudder trailed down your spine as you watched the doors re-open to let the subject of your thoughts onto the lift. He was wearing yet another outfit that was different from earlier - a white tank top with loose pants adorned with decorative zippers.

And was that a fucking tattoo?

There was no way you had missed that in your previous encounters. He must have felt your piercing stare because his eyes flashed over to yours. “See something you like?”

“You have a tattoo!” You blurted out.

“Um, yeah, I do. Nice observation,” Your neighbor looked at you weirdly. “Aren’t you going to ask what floor I need?”

“You and your fucking jokes,” You rolled your eyes at him.

The boy’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at you intently, “Ah, so you’re kitten.”

Your insides into jelly, and you decided the safest tactic would now be to ignore him.

“Now, now, kitten,” He crowded your space, backing you up against the elevator wall, “It’s impolite to ignore your neighbor.”

“Well, it’s against the commandments to covet your neighbor, isn’t it?” You sniffed, pretending to not be affected by his sheer size and dangerous aura. The tattoo curling up his neck demanded your attention, and you only wished you could pay your respects with your tongue.

“I’m pretty sure they said something about coveting a neighbor’s wife… you’re not married are you, kitten? Got a boyfriend, girlfriend or partner that we don’t know about?” His breath mingled with your own, his lips so close to your own.

Wait, we?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the elevator’s arrival at your floor. Ducking under his corded arms, you scurried out of the elevator and down the hall towards your apartment.

Of course, he lazily trailed after you.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” You shot over your shoulder at him as you neared your door. “We just met like two days ago.”

His grin turned feral, “Yes, kitten, of course we did. Hey, why don’t you come over for a drink? You’re right; we don’t really know each other. Let’s change that.”

You weighed your options. Hanging out with him could drive you absolutely crazy or it could lead to something you previously could only write about.

He lounged against the wall next to your door in await of your answer. He raised a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, and your eyes caught a sudden flash of silver. Was that an honest to god nipple piercing you just saw?

All rational exited the building. “Sure, but only for a little bit. Let me just change real quick.”

“Great, kitten,” His eyes flared, “Wear something comfortable. Just knock when you’re ready.”

You just nodded mutely as you entered your apartment and then shut the door. What the fuck were you getting yourself into?

After ten panicked minutes of you running around your apartment in search of ‘comfortable’ clothes, you were poised to knock on your still nameless neighbor’s door. You glanced down at your cropped t-shirt, leggings and running shoes. It would do. Besides, you had your lucky lingerie on underneath just in case.

Before you could even knock, the door flew open. “I was beginning to worry you were just going to stand there all night, kitten.” Your neighbor pouts, “And then we wouldn’t get to have any fun.”

You rolled your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to invite me inside?”

His lips twitched, “How vampiresque of you, (y/n).”

You smiled broadly, “If I was a vampire, I would definitely have killed you already. You’re really fucking annoying.”

He stared at you for a split second before throwing his head back and laughing. The amount of neck that was in your face was heavenly; and, suddenly, you questioned whether vampires actually had it right this whole time.

“Well, kitten. I’m Taehyung. Please, do come in,” He opened the door wider, still chuckling lowly, “Would you like anything to drink? I think we have wine and maybe some beer hiding in the fridge somewhere.”

There was that pesky ‘we’ again.

“Red wine sounds good, thank you,” You said, plopping yourself down on one of the deep wooden barstools lining the marble kitchen island. You watched as he poured two glasses and handed one to you. Just as you were about to ask if he had roommates, Taehyung held up his glass.

“Cheers to being very friendly neighbors,” He said, sitting in the stool next to yours and staring intently at you.

“Cheers,” You echoed, clinking your glasses together and then taking a sip. Your eyes widened both from the sight of Taehyung drinking – his throat tipped back, his eyes dark on yours – and the deliciousness of the wine. It was an intense ruby red pinot noir that somehow tasted of fruit and of smokey spice all at once. It was honestly so fucking good that you just knew it had to be exorbitantly expensive. You licked your lips, making sure not to miss a single drop.

Taehyung’s eyes latched onto the movement. “You know,” He murmured, “They say if you hold eye contact while toasting, you’ll keep having good sex.”

You almost spat out your second sip of wine. Just as you were about to risk it all and say you would actually have to start having sex for that to happen, a crashing sound echoed from the dark hallway to your left.

“Shit,” Taehyung cursed, glaring in the direction the sound had come from, “I need to go and check what that was. Are you all right out here for a minute?”

You shrugged and nodded, swirling your wine around your glass.

“Be right back,” Taehyung brushed his hand over your cheek for a split second before stalking down the hallway in search of whatever had caused the ruckus.

Your hand flew to your now-warm cheek. Fuck, were you really crushing on your cute neighbor with the mood-swings?

Ugh, you were.

You glanced speculatively around his apartment. It was so much nicer than yours… The minimalist but chic decor just screamed rich vibes. However, there were a few oddities that made you frown. Four sets of keys hung by the front door. Four sets of shoes were lined up in the foyer. Four different color coded markings were on the calendar pinned to the wall.

Four different versions of Taehyung smiled back at you from a photo stuck to the fridge.

“Hello again, kitten,” The low voice startled you from your internal panic. Reluctantly turning to face them, you cursed your own stupidity. The blonde version of Taehyung that you met a few days ago grinned back at you.

“Fucking brothers,” You moaned, slouching over on the kitchen island and placing your head in your hands, “You’re all fucking brothers.”

“Quadruplets, actually,” He unhelpfully added, “I’m V. You’re (y/n), right?”

“Were you all just eavesdropping on me and Taehyung, or what?” You knew your were being petty right now, but you felt blindsided by your own lack of awareness and the brothers’ obvious lack of tact.

“Kind of,” Blue-haired Taehyung exited the hallway, “Sorry, (y/n).”

It was honestly unfair how sweet Blue was. “It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Vante,” He waved at you and grinned, “See? I can finally wave back now!”

If you could turn into a human version of ‘uwu’, you would have done so right then and there.

“Stop flirting with her, Vante,” Coffee-shop Taehyung enters the kitchen followed closely by the actual Taehyung, “Let me introduce myself, kitten. I…” He gripped your hand and brought it to his lips, “Am Hansung.” His lips brushed over your knuckles as the words poured out of his mouth.

You blinked at him as it clicked, “Oh, so you’re the Han that wouldn’t get off his ass!”

Hansung choked, dropping your hand as his brothers cried with laughter. “Who said that?” He rounded on his brothers, “Who?”

Vante shot you a desperate look; and, since you had already internally declared him your favorite, you kept the information to yourself. “I don’t see how that matters when you all clearly have been keeping me in the dark about the fact that there are four of you.”

“I mean,” Taehyung began, “Technically we didn’t not tell you. You just never asked.”

Your blood boiled, “And how the fuck would I know to ask? Should I have consulted a psychic? Scoured the census data? Kept tabs on the entire population of quadruplets nationwide?”

You stared down each of the boys. Vante and Hansung at least looked a tad sheepish, but Taehyung and V just looked amused.

“You were right,” Taehyung nudged V, “She is feisty.”

You contemplated your options: 1) Kill V and bury the body deep in the nearby woods, 2) Dramatically exit the apartment and never speak to these demonspawn ever again, or 3) Chug this miraculous tasting wine.

You chose option three.

No regrets.

Looking at each of them, you felt like you could be the stock image for the word ‘shooketh’. Fuck, you had thought it was overwhelming when there was just one of them in your mind. But, now? You were in full panic mode over the sheer amount of masculinity and identical good looks that surrounded you.

“You know what?” You said after draining your glass, “I really don’t like being made to look like a fool. And that’s what you all did to me this whole week.” You saw Vante open his mouth, and you cut him off, “Some more than others… but, still, you knew where I lived. You could have just introduced yourself separately.”

You stood, glancing over the boys’ varying degrees of pouts and sighing. “Yeah, I’m out of here.”

Making your way over to the door, you were suddenly cut off by V. He leaned heavily against the door, successfully blocking your smooth exit.

“V, move.”

“No, you need to hear us out, kitten,” He murmured, looking down at you with an intense expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “Could you do that for us?”

You spared a glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, the other three were right there. Vante stared at you pleadingly. Hansung shot you a wink. Taehyung snapped his gaze up to yours… Had he been checking out your ass?

Deciding not to pay them any mind, you turned back around to face V and shrugged, “Fine, two minutes.”

“Good girl.”

A shiver coursed down your spine. You didn’t even know which brother behind you muttered those two words, and, yet, perhaps that made it all the more thrilling.

V shot a glare over your head and then refocused on you. “Kitten, we’re sorry. We just really like to tease, and you made it so easy.” Seeing your glare, he continued, “We didn’t mean to make you upset. That wasn’t our intention at all… it was the complete opposite, actually.”

Taehyung moved in front of you, next to V. “Why don’t we start over? Come over for dinner tomorrow night at eight. We’ll have a proper introduction to our neighborly relationship.”

You mulled it over in your mind. Embarrassment warred with infatuation. Worst case scenarios clashed with the best of cases. Images of a dark bedroom with multiple partners contrasted with words typed on a laptop screen.

Finally, as the seconds ticked by, you decided to ask yourself: ‘What would your characters do?’

They would fuck them all.

“Okay,” You sighed, eyeing the two boys in front of you and then the two behind, “But you better make something edible.”

“Challenge accepted,” V’s eyes glinted wickedly.

“It wasn’t even––” You cut yourself off. Though you only had met V twice thus far, you knew it was virtually impossible to make him back down from anything he perceived as a dare. “You know what? Sure, it’s a challenge. I’ll be the Gordon Ramsey; you’ll be the crying contestants.”

A stifled giggle sounds from behind you that you suspect belonged to Vante.

“That mouth…” Taehyung muttered. His tongue swiped along his lower lip as he stared you down.

Suddenly, Hansung popped out from behind you and shoved his two brothers out of the way of the door. “Allow me, kitten,” He swung it open in a flourish, bowing as he cleared your way out. Your lips twitched. That boy was so extra.

“Thank you, Han,” You smiled and waved as you exited their apartment, “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow night…” Walking the short distance across the hall to your own apartment, you unlock your door, step inside, and then turn back to see if they were still there.

They were.

All four of them peered back at you from their doorway. “Shoo!” You laughed, waving them away before slamming your door shut.

You were so, so, so, so fucked.

Four’s hands ghosted over your skin, caressing the dips of your curves. You shuddered as Three’s tongue slides across your pussy.

“You like that, kitten?” One asks, as he watches from the armchair in the corner of the room, “You like my brothers ruining you?” You weren’t fooled by his lack of participation; you knew One pulled the strings. “Answer me.”

“Yes, daddy,” You moan out as Two sucks one of your nipples in his mouth and asoidfjgioykl—

The ringing of your doorbell caused you to key-smash in panic. “Coming!” You called out, flustered over the interruption and over the filth you just wrote about your neighbors.

You padded over to the door and peered out the peep-hole. It was Hansung. Your breath caught in your throat as you try to push the vivid scenes you just wrote out of your mind.

Pulling open the door, you greeted him with a smile, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hi…” Hansung trailed off, his eyes roving over your body. You glanced down at your typical loungewear - an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts. Nothing too out of the ordinary. “Do you have any sugar?”

You stared at him with a deadpan expression, “Are you serious?”

“I don’t joke about sweets, kitten,” Hansung grinned, running a hand through his messy head of hair. You would have to add a scene to your story about pulling on it… “There’s that look,” he shook his head amusedly, “When will you ever let us know some of those thoughts?”

“Never,” You vowed and stepped aside so that he could enter your apartment, “Come on in. I’m pretty sure I have sugar somewhere. Sorry for the mess.” You wandered over to the kitchen area adjacent to your living room. Hansung was assessing your apartment with a critical eye, and you decided you needed to make this fast before he uncovered any dirty secrets.

Pulling open your baking cabinet, you scoured the shelves looking for that pesky ingredient. Flour, vanilla extract, chocolate chips…

“How is it that four boys don’t have any sugar?” You complained, leaning up to snag your bag of sugar from the very top shelf.

“We ask ourselves that all the damn time,” You knew Hansung was smirking even without seeing him, “We’re getting some now though… and later.”

“Well, good,” You turned to face him, “You better stock up so you don’t come bothering me every time you need some.”

He laughed, “Oh, (y/n), we’ll always want more.”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved the bag of sugar to his chest and pushed him towards the door to your apartment. “Out you go!”

“Oh kitten, I always knew you were sweet on me,” Hansung grinned widely as he stared down at the sugar you had pushed against his chest.

“Fuck off,” You groaned, letting out a slight chuckle despite yourself. “Now, go away and cook me a nice dinner. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye-e-e kitten,” he sang as he paraded back across the hall, “Wear something sexy for me.” With a wink, Hansung disappeared back into his shared apartment.

You groaned, slamming your door shut before sliding down it onto the floor. These brothers might be the death of you. Glancing up, your eyes settled on your laptop. Had it always been in that position? Was that how you left it?

Standing up, you walked over to where your laptop resides on your coffee table and closed it. You had a dinner to get ready for, after all. You didn’t have time to return to your story.

Alas, you really should have made time; because, little did you know, the open document on your screen had a new addition courtesy of Hansung… “That’s hot. Which number am I?”

It was 7:59PM; you were pacing inside your apartment.

You contemplated cancelling for the hundredth time that evening. But, momma didn’t raise no bitch.

With that in mind, you assessed yourself in the foyer mirror. The black midi-dress wrapped around your body like armor. The wings of your eyeliner flicked out like battle knives. The redness of your lipstick warned of the biting tongue that lie within.

Yeah, you looked ready for war, and it was perfect.

With that in mind, you trudged across the hall and knocked on their door before you could talk yourself out of it.

The door opened to reveal V in all his glory. His blonde hair was tousled, his eyes were dark. He looked at you as if he knew all of your secrets.

You bit your lip, “Um, hi?”

A slow smile crossed his face, “Hi, kitten. Please come in.”

You moved past him to enter into the apartment. Taehyung appeared and greeted you with a grin. “Hey, (y/n),” He purred, running a hand down your arm, “Glad you could make it.”

God, what was up? The tension in the room was palpable. You walked over towards where Hansung and Vante were plating dinner in the kitchen.

“Hi,” You greeted them. Vante jumped two feet in the air as Hansung smirked at you.

You cocked your head. Moving your eyes from one brother to the next, you caved, “Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean, (y/n)?” V moved closer to you, “Is this not going as you wrote it?”

You stopped breathing. No, there was no way… but, your laptop had seemed to be moved. You shot Hansung a look in askance.

He grinned sheepishly, and it told you everything you needed to know.

“Fuck,” You turned away from them, “I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing. I’ll leave.”

“Who’s One?” V’s question cut through your rambled apology.

“What?” You blinked, turning to look at him.

“Who is One, kitten? Is it me?” V moved right in front of you. You gulped. He smiled. “I thought so.”

“You see, (y/n)-kitten,” He continued, “You were right. My brothers and I? We’re a unit. We do everything together. We live together, we date together, we fuck together.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words.

“We just want one girl to keep us all together, kitten… to be ours.” V murmured, twisting a lock of your hair between his fingers, “That’s what we’ve been searching for for so long.”

You finally found words at last, “And you think that girl is me?”

“We know it’s you,” Vante said, shyly approaching you, “And we’re going to show you why.”

He kissed you. You almost laughed over how cute, shy Vante was the first brother to kiss you. His kiss was gentle, but insistent in its movements. It was like he was pleading you to let him in both your mouth and your heart.

You crumbled. Your hands fisted his shirt and tugged him closer. His kiss ignited something in you that made you want more.

Your tongue darted out to run along the seam of his lips. Vante gasped, and your tongue slid inside.

As you continue to kiss him, someone moved behind you, his lips ghosted over your neck.

“Mm, baby,” Taehyung whispered against the nape of your neck, “You’re so beautiful.”

Taehyung ran his hands over your hips and tugged your ass flush with his crotch. You moaned into Vante’s mouth. Vante took advantage of your dazed state to slide his tongue against yours in a way that was so deliciously dirty.

Suddenly, Vante backed up, and V took his place before you.

His hands slid up your body, grazing the sides of your breasts before settling back down at the top of your waist.

He kissed you deeply, differently than Vante. The slight roughness of his touch was new, and it seemed to declare ownership over you.

V’s tongue twined with yours, playing with you. From behind you, Taehyung continued to slowly grind into you.

Your body felt so overheated, so overwhelmed.

Pulling back from your mouth, V glanced over your shoulder, and Taehyung slipped away from you.

V focused back on you. “I don’t think you understand what you do to us. God, this dress. Did you wear it to tease us, kitten? We’ve been wanting to unwrap you, to strip you down, since you walked through our door.”

V fiddled with the bow keeping your dress fastened.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you said, “Well, do it then.”

His hand froze. His eyes flicked up to yours. “You’re sure, (y/n)? You know what you’re asking for? You know what we’ll give you?”

You glanced around. Vante looked at you with a hopeful expression. Hansung wore a smirk, already working on undoing the buttons of his shirt. Taehyung full-on grinned at you with dark eyes full of wicked intent and promise.

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left your lips, the mood shifted. V nodded at Vante, who scurried out of the room. You opened your mouth to question his departure, but V cut you off.

“Now, kitten, I know you’ve imagined this - wrote this; but, you’re not the one in charge here. We are.”

He led you down the hall and into what must have been his own bedroom. The king size bed dominated the room. Paintings decorated the walls… Was that a real Degas?

Vante entered the room, holding what looked like long scraps of silk.

“Finally,” Hansung grumbled, and then turned to you, “Strip.”

Your hands shook as you reached down to the tie at your waist and pulled. Your dress, your armor, fell to the ground in a whoosh. You stood in just your underwear, having forgone a bra that evening.

“Goddamn,” V growled, “Such a good little slut coming to our place without a bra.”

His filthy words slid over your body like a caress and settled deep in your core. You pushed your thighs together. The movement was not lost on the brothers.

“Vante.”

At V’s call, Vante reached out and took your hand. Leading you over to the bed, he gestured for you to lay down. “We want to tie you up, kitten. Is that okay? If not, we can have fun in other ways.”

“T-that’s okay,” You swallowed hard, “I like bondage.”

“I knew it!” Hansung cheered from the left foot of the bed.

“Shut up, Han,” Vante shot over his shoulder as he focused on tying your wrists behind your head. Refocusing on you, he mumbled, “How does that feel, baby? Too tight? Too loose?”

“Just right,” You sighed, almost moaning at how hot you felt getting tied down by one man while three others watched.

Taehyung sat down at your side, his pointer finger began drawing light circles across your stomach. “Can Hansung take your panties off, kitten?”

Nodding, you looked down as Hansung leaned over you, hands briefly squeezing your hips before tugging your underwear down your thighs. Almost on reflex, you squeezed your legs together again, craving any sort of friction.

“Open your legs,” V ordered from his stance against the wall by the foot of the bed, “Show us how wet you are.”

You listened, hyper-aware of how your wetness was surely obvious. Taehyung’s fingers suddenly pinched your nipple, rolling the puckered bud between his fingers. A small moan escaped you.

“Fuck,” someone cursed. Hansung, you guessed. “She’s so pretty.”

“How wet is she?” Taehyung asked, the only brother not openly ogling your wet pussy.

“Dripping,” Vante murmurs, tongue wetting his lips.

Your eyes locked with V’s as he stared you down. “Now, kitten, do you want Vante to lick your pussy? Or Hansung?”

Both boys in question stared at you with wistful expressions. You knew your answer though. It was not an option he had given. And it was your lack of answer that tipped V off.

“Ah, I see,” V laughed. “Well, that’ll be a new one for us.”

Hansung shot V a confused look, “What?”

“She wants both of your mouths,” V smirked at your immediate blush, “What? Am I wrong, baby?”

“…No,” You pouted.

Vante’s eyebrows furrowed, “Both of us? Like at one time? Or one after the other?”

All eyes were on you once more as you squirmed under the weight of their attention and Taehyung’s continued worship of your nipples with his fingers.

“Either?” You were losing your train of thought under the building pleasure. Could you actually come from just nipple play?

“Mm,” V hummed, “Our little kitten is being indecisive. Vante?”

Again, Vante hastened to fulfill V’s unspoken command. You wondered how many times the brothers had done this together, because they were really fucking in sync.

“Are you good with being blindfolded, too, kitten?” Vante asked, kissing your cheek lightly. You nodded and lifted your head up slightly so he could tie the soft silk around your head.

Darkness consumed you. Your senses heightened. A breath coasted over your wetness and you shuddered.

A light kiss pressed over your folds followed by a tentative swipe of a tongue. “Damn, she tastes fucking amazing,” Hansung groaned, completely giving himself away.

“Shut up and make her come, Han. Or I’ll let Vante take your place.” V’s voice came from closer by you now. Was he right next to you? Was he at your feet?

His lips felt so soft as he dragged them over your pussy to finally suck your clit in between them. His tongue slid and flicked perfectly against your clit.

The small ministrations of his tongue against your clit set your arousal ablaze. You shifted your hips up in hopes he will lick harder, but a firm hand pushed you back down.

“No, no, kitten,” V’s voice sounded in your ear, “You’ll get what we give you.”

Hansung continued to stroke his tongue between your legs. Finally, by the grace of the gods, he pushed a finger inside you and hissed, “Fuck, she’s so tight.”

You clenched down around his finger at his words, and he moaned. “She was fucking made for us.”

As Han returned to worship your pussy, another tongue flicked at your nipple. Was that Vante? Taehyung?

Honestly, not knowing was high-key hot. You were hurtling towards your orgasm as one brother ate your pussy, another worshipped your breasts, and two more watched.

The feeling of having so much attention on you, on your pleasure, on your body, set you off. You came with an embarrassingly loud moan.

Lips brushed your ear as V murmured, “You’re so sexy when you come, kitten. I bet you’ll look even better when you come all over my cock.”

A whine escaped you as he teased you, licking your neck, teeth scraping over it. The afterglow of your orgasm quickly turned into the aching need for more.

And then your stomach let out an insanely loud growl.

The room quieted. A chuckle escaped someone. Then, laughs echoed around the bedroom.

“Well, someone needs to be fed,” V’s smile was apparent as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

The blindfold slipped from around your head and you blinked up at V as he untied your wrists. “Come on, baby, we can reheat dinner.”

“But–” You pouted as V placed a finger to your lips.

“We can get back to that after. We’re not even close to being done with you, kitten.”

“I don’t think we ever will,” Taehyung grinned at you as he tugged you up from the bed.

“Here you go, (y/n),” Vante handed you Han’s discarded button down.

“Thank you,” You blushed at his cuteness. Pausing, you scoured the ground for your panties.

Thwack.

Your ass stung as V’s hand massaged over the area he just smacked.

“They’re mine. Don’t bother,” His grin was feral as he squeezed your ass and then led you out of the room towards the kitchen.

As you both joined the others in the kitchen, you took the plate that Han offered you. Surveying the room, you took in your varying states of undress as you all stood around the kitchen island eating your reheated dinners.

Damn, you could get used to this… Taehyung caught your eye and shot you a wink.

Yeah, you were so fucked… but, so were they.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[samingtonwilson]

Mac and Cheese

Summary: Bucky takes the last box of frozen mac and cheese, takes your phone, and makes you fall in love with him. The audacity of that man.

Prompt: “This has been a very bad week and you just grabbed the last box of my favorite comfort food at the supermarket” 

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: i wrote this and was fully done formatting it and everything, like, 6 months ago. i didn’t post it because it’s approx. 82% nonsense but i figured why not post it now when it’s still 82% nonsense but im struggling to finish everything else. so taal, long time vegan, writes a story about mac and cheese and, listen, idk what this fic is either. can i write a fic without adding sam to it? no.

Mac and cheese. That’s all you want. Disgusting, frozen, usually-quite-mushy-if-not-microwaved-correctly mac and fucking cheese. 

The kind with the layer of cheese on top. The kind with that real elbow pasta, not rotini or penne or seashell pasta— real macaroni. The kind you try to only eat one serving size of before you eat everything in the package. The kind you always gravitate to when your eyes are stained red, swollen, and too proud to be anything other than dry.

You take the subway. You switch lines. You endure the smell of the F train during rush hour when you aren’t sure where your thigh ends and the thigh of the woman sitting beside you begins. All for that one Trader Joe’s, out of many, in Brooklyn the hipsters abandon before six because the coffee shop next door closes at five.

Your feet ache in your boots and you’re pretty sure a rock has somehow lodged itself between your toes, it’s starting to rain and you have no umbrella, you don’t think your throat has ever felt so parched. 

But you tuck your phone into your back pocket and march into that store with the hideous overhead lighting that makes your skin look like it hasn’t seen a bottle of toner in days like you’re Hades, the box of mac and cheese is Persephone, and Trader Joe’s is Mount Olympus.

You aren’t planning on smiling at anyone in greeting. You aren’t planning on making eye contact with anyone. You aren’t even planning on waiting politely behind whoever is inevitably idly standing in front of the pasta section of the frozen aisle— you’re going to say, “Excuse me.” Like the badass, New Yorker, on-the-verge-of-tears bitch you are and you’re going to toss that mac and cheese into your basket like you’re Steph Curry at the NBA Finals.

Lines are long when you walk in, cashiers bored-looking and tired. The produce section is a jungle of stay at home fathers and people who make their own pressed juice, the salad display a mess of college students trying to eat healthy. 

Your eyes accidentally meet those of a toddler who is slyly plucking a grape from a bag he had no intention of spending his allowance on and you smile.

You hold your basket like a designer handbag and dilly-dally only for a moment to pick up some yogurt for breakfast tomorrow. 

And some inauthentic babka because there’s no way in hell you’re going to endure Zabar’s after this. 

And a package of olive oil popcorn, a bottle of three dollar chardonnay, and string cheese. 

But that’s it. Self-control.

You feel the chill of the frozen aisle before you step into it. You feel the magnetic pull of that box with only one step in its direction. You stop for just a second to grab the mini mango and cream pops.

You almost roll your eyes to yourself when you see that someone is indeed standing right in front of the frozen selection of pasta. He’s staring at two boxes— a red one in his gloved left hand and the one in his right hand green.

As you grow closer you notice behind his curtain of dark hair that his eyebrows are knit together and he’s frowning at a decision he must be forcing himself to make. 

Sophie’s Choice, but involving mediocre excuses for Italian food and no Nazis— hopefully. Because who really knows these days?

He wears a forest green hoodie under a black leather jacket, black jeans tight around thick thighs. Boots, too. You think you might swoon.

And you wait behind him. You tap your foot, shift your weight, and chew on your bottom lip. You don’t say anything.

He looks over his shoulder when you curse under your breath and set the heavy basket at your feet. He’s apologetic— and handsome— by the looks of it, blue eyes slightly widened and lips downturned. “Shit,” he says as he takes a few steps to the right. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. You kick your basket with the toe of your boot until it lightly smacks against the bottom of the freezer. “No problem. It’s a big decision.”

His eyes lift from the boxes and he smiles. “Biggest one I’ve gotten to make in a while.”

Setting your hands atop the cold metal railing, you stare down into the freezer. You see farfalle with roasted tomatoes, rigatoni with pesto, ricotta and spinach ravioli, roasted vegetable lasagna, cauliflower gnocchi, chicken parm, and… an empty space. 

You tilt your head.

You lean away and crouch to read the description cards, looking for the bubble letters to tell you where on Earth your saving grace is. When you spot the card, you stand again. The indicated space is empty, your heart is empty, your will to live is—

A box of organic pesto tortellini is tossed back into the freezer and you look up. Your eyes might lose their prideful dryness at any moment, even in public next to that handsome stranger with the nice jacket and,

the box of mac and cheese.

You gasp audibly and leap backwards. You point at the box in his left hand.

With an expression of panic, he holds his hands— and the box— up in innocence. “It’s okay. I’m not—”

“What the fuck is that?” you shout to gain the attention of customers you don’t even perceive, waggling your finger at the box. Your wide-eyed stare, and bared teeth, and messy hair must be terrifying. You hope they are.

He looks down at his hand. An eyebrow lifts. And, confusedly, he asks, “The box?”

“Yes, the fucking box!”

“It’s mac and—” he meets your gaze again. You’re wearing your anger like armor. But you aren’t scared. Bucky thinks he might never have felt such relief at a woman’s anger. “It’s mac and cheese.”

You shake your head. Wildly. Your neck hurts. “It’s the last box of mac and cheese!”

He glances at the box, then back at you. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “They might have some in the back—”

You shake your head again. A hint of devastation cracks your voice as you say, “It’s Monday night. Trader Joe’s restocks Tuesday night. This is usually all they have left.”

“I—” He pauses. “Is this shit really that good—”

“No, it’s not but that’s not the point!” you’re shouting again. And crying. Oh, God, you’re crying. In public. “The point is my building is going co-op!”

He tilts his head. “Your building is—”

“And I have to buy my apartment if I want to keep it! And they don’t give raises at my job to women unless they’re willing to suck something I won’t say in front of that kid right there,” you nod toward a little girl in a pink raincoat with her pin straight black hair in pigtails who stares at you in bewilderment. You sniffle. “So I quit. And I’m proud of myself for it. Because I have integrity, and I have self-respect, and I have no gag reflex, so the rejection should kill my boss dead.”

He cracks a small smile when you let out a short, watery, pathetic laugh. Easily, he holds the box out to you. “I hope your boss is dead, too.”

You laugh again and don’t hesitate before taking the box. You wipe your cheeks with your sleeve. “Thank you. You’re nice.”

“Not a popular opinion, but one I’ll certainly take.” He’s smiling and it’s warm. “Sorry— about all that.”

“You’re apologizing to me? I just screamed at you in the Trader Joe’s freezer aisle over mac and cheese.”

He shakes his head and picks up his own basket when you grab yours. “Your building’s going co-op and your boss deserves to burn in hell. You should get all the mac and cheese you want.”

You reach into the freezer for that green box of tortellini he’d thrown in, tossing it into his basket with a smile. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “Still. I’m sorry for yelling and I hope the tortellini doesn’t suck too bad.”

“It’s frozen pasta. My expectations are low.”

You hum a laugh and walk past him to the crowded lines at the registers. “As they should be.”

It’s when you’re lost in the sea of customers and Bucky is deciding between frozen palak paneer and frozen lamb vindaloo with basmati rice that he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket. 

He looks away from the green and orange boxes, lowering his gaze to meet curious almond-shaped eyes beneath blunt black bangs. He smiles and she returns it. “Yes?”

She reveals her right hand, which she had hidden behind her pink raincoat, and holds a phone up to Bucky as far as her arm will let her.

“Is that your phone?”

She shakes her head and giggles. Loud, happy, and squeaky. “Yelling lady dropped her phone.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together until a woman, much closer to his height, steps behind the little girl. She takes the phone the girl holds out and offers it to Bucky when he straightens his posture. Her smile looks like the little girl’s. “We figured you would have a good chance at getting it back to her.”

He takes the phone and nods his thanks. Pressing the power button reveals a picture of you and a dog, a large, fluffy dog with its pink tongue hanging low. You’re smiling brightly and, oddly, it seems like the dog is, too.

—

“So you just took her phone? Didn’t even ask an employee to keep it there in case she came back for it?”

Bucky, watching the tray of pasta rotate in the microwave, scowls. “I would’ve if I’d known that was an option. And stop eating my fuckin’ chips.”

Sam tosses back another handful of kettle-cooked barbecue potato chips in defiance so the obnoxious crunching echoes through the kitchen. He smiles sarcastically when Bucky snatches the bag and rolls it up. Half is already gone. “You come up with how you’re gonna get it back to her?”

“Thinkin’ about asking Pepper to post a picture of it like it’s a missing child to that ‘Tweeter’ nonsense,” Bucky replies dryly. He’s glaring at Sam as he leans his hip against the counter. “You and I both know I haven’t come up with shit.”

Sam snorts and is smiling in amusement, deep brown eyes alight. Bucky hates the sight. “Tweeter. You’re so fuckin’ old.”

It’s been hours since Bucky took the phone from who he learned is little Vivienne and her mother, and he is no closer to getting it back to you. 

He’d tried looking for you at the store but there were too many people for a Trader Joe’s that Yelp claimed was the least busy in New York for that to yield results. So he returned to the Tower. He thought about asking Tony to look into the doohickey but figured an invasion of privacy should be the last resort.

He pulls the tray from the microwave with nimble vibranium fingers and sniffs the pasta before setting it down on the counter. He removes a bowl from one of the cabinets and dumps the steaming pasta in it, a sprinkle of freshly grated parmesan from a tub he’d bought— also at Trader Joe’s— a finishing touch.

“She’s cute,” Sam says when the screen lights up with an incoming text notification.

Bucky spins his fork between his fingers as he walks around the counter to sit on the barstool beside Sam’s. He glances at the phone as well. “Very cute,” he agrees. “She had a shitty day. Something about her apartment goin’ co-op. Whatever the hell that means.”

Sam frowns. “Means she’s gotta buy the place. And with New York real estate prices right now,” he shakes his head with a sigh. “She better have a well-paying job.”

“Quit that today, too.” Bucky takes a bite of the pasta and hisses as it burns his tongue. “Boss is a creep that asked for some action in exchange for a raise.”

“Jesus. Poor girl.”

The tortellini isn’t great. It’s a little bland, a bit too dry, and there isn’t enough filling— but it’s better than Bucky had expected. He takes another bite. “Yeah. And I took the last box of mac and cheese. Which is what she went to the store for.”

“I’m surprised your head wasn’t chopped off.”

Bucky smiles. “She yelled— a lot. Was crying, too, ‘til she said something and made herself laugh.”

Sam then begins teasing Bucky juvenilely for having a crush until both men are laughing and shoving one another to see who falls off their stool first, Sam only relenting when Bucky hands the potato chips to him again as a peace offering.

The bowl is in the sink and the chips are down to just crumbs when a loud ringtone— an instrumental version of an R&B song Bucky recognizes from Sam’s many plays of the original— shocks the two of them.

It’s from an unknown number and Bucky is unsure if he should pick up until Sam swipes answer and puts the call on speakerphone. “Hello?”

A sigh. Bucky doesn’t know if it’s one of relief or frustration. “I’m hoping whoever this is found my phone and didn’t steal it.”  

Sam shoves Bucky’s shoulder with a toothy grin and Bucky rolls his eyes. “The little girl you almost traumatized in the freezer aisle found it and gave it to me.”

Another sigh— the relief in this one is obvious— and you’re laughing. “It’s you— tortellini dude. Must’ve fallen when I crouched down.”

“Seems like it, yeah.”

“So are you gonna ask for my address or do I have to schlep over to Avengers Tower?”

Bucky and Sam exchange a look. “Avengers Tower?”

“You weren’t exactly in disguise— I realized who you are the minute I left the store. Would’ve recognized you right away but I was in my own head and you aren’t my favorite Avenger.”

Bucky smiles. “Yeah? And who is?”

“Falcon.”

Immediately, the phone is taken from Bucky’s hand. “Hi, baby, you’ve got Falcon.”

A gasp, a pause, then you laugh. Audibly stunned laughter. “You guys actually hang out with each other? That’s cute.”

Before Sam can reply, Bucky flicks his forehead— in reply to which Sam elbows Bucky’s ribs— and takes the phone back. “I can bring your phone to you whenever you’re free.”

“Awesome. I’m unemployed now so any time tomorrow is fine.”

You tell him your address before hanging up and he wishes you a good night. Your laughter is the last thing he hears before three beeps signify the end of the call.

—

Bucky takes the subway. He switches lines to the F train. He tries not to mind the overpowering smell of stale B.O. and deli meat leftover from rush hour, the skittering steps of a rat across the floor in the adjacent empty car. He ignores those who stare at him intensely enough to burn the fabric right off his skin. All for that one apartment in SoHo.

He thinks the gash below his ribs might still be leaking as the warm, moist subway station air blows past him. He can feel that cluster of bruises above his knee— the one from the pipe the hostile operative had ripped off the rickety walls of a nearly destroyed Hydra base— every time he takes a step, more so as he climbs the stairs.

He knows he must be quite a sight with combat boots and tac pants worn and dusty, a simple bomber jacket thrown over a ripped, sliced, stained compression tank. His mind is blank, his eyes shadowy, the ghost of something terrible lurking behind blue and grey. 

Posture stiff and muscles cold, steps crisp despite the ache, he follows the familiar path and manages to form the thought of turning around. Not bringing this all to a threshold— or, more accurately, a windowsill— he’s only crossed three or four times. He’s too weak, though.

It takes one rap of his knuckles against the third-story window for a lamp to flicker on, gauzy drapes pushed aside. You smile as he lifts the window open, stepping aside as he enters the apartment with careful grace. He feels less guilty when he sees that your bed is still made and your hair isn’t the tangled mess it usually is when he bursts in at a late hour.

“I have a door.”

“Okay, show-off.”

It’s when he steps into the light of the standing lamp in the room’s corner that your quiet laughter gives way to a soft gasp. 

He doesn’t like the widening of your eyes or the way you gently lift the right side of his jacket, fingers light against the torn fabric. But you laugh again, and it shakes in nervousness. “You know I’m not a doctor, right? Or a nurse? Or even a pharmacist with high self-efficacy?”

He nods and, despite himself, there’s a smile pulling at a corner of his lips. His eyes brighten a little. “It’ll heal itself.”

“Confidence. I like that in a burglar.”

Before he can take a step further into your bedroom, you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth and point at his feet. “Boots.”

He kicks them off with a sigh and a groan when the shifting of his knee sends a tremor up his leg. His jacket is tossed aside as well, and he catches the black t-shirt you throw to him. You’d washed it, folded it, and put it in your closet. 

Just a little more brightness. “You owe me mac and cheese.”

“Oh, I owe you mac and cheese? We’re really holding onto shit from four months ago?”

He nods again and pulls his tank off, withholding a wince.

Eyebrow raised, you cross your arms over your chest. You’re giving him a narrow look but, because you’re clearly struggling against a smile, it’s one of his favorites of the expressions you’ve ever offered him. 

You give him a towel next— pastel blue. “Shower and then we’ll see about me owing you something.”

He wants to say thank you, do more than smile. 

But he knows if he so much as opens his mouth while you’re looking at him the way you are, he’ll tell you he’s fallen in love with you over the last four months, that maybe he’s been in love since you screamed at him in the freezer section of Trade Joe’s. 

He’ll go to say thank you, but the words of a Byron poem he’d learned to impress a girl in his English class more than eighty years ago will come pouring out or he’ll simply kiss you like he wishes he could on the nights he can’t sleep or during the missions he can just barely endure. 

He’ll go to say thank you, and then tell you with no clarity whatsoever that you’re what he finds comfort in when he’s had a hard day. That the disgusting, mushy, nothing-compared-to-fresh mac and cheese is just an excuse.

But he just smiles. And nods. And takes a shower.

His hair is still wet as he stands across from you at the kitchen counter. There’s a bowl of steaming pasta between you, a spoon in his hand and a fork in yours. “You’re dripping onto the counter.”

With a cocking of his eyebrow, he shakes his head and you sputter a laugh, shoving his shoulder. “Bucky!”

He laughs then, fully and happily, as he reaches over to wipe the drops from your cheeks and forehead. You only smile back, the gleaming of your eyes making him feel warm all over.

“This shit’s terrible, by the way,” he says after a minute of staring.

You shrug a shoulder. “Told you.”

“And you fought me for it. Publicly.”

You shrug again and laugh. You lean your elbows atop the counter to match his relaxed posture, dragging a noodle through a particularly large puddle of melted cheese. 

Looking up, your nose nearly bumps Bucky’s and you hope he doesn’t hear your breath stall. You try to smile. “Makes me feel better when I need to fill that hole in my heart.”

“With cholesterol?” he jokes.

“Yes. It’s excellent. It’s like spackle.” As he laughs and you roll your eyes, you push off the counter to stand straight. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah?”

You hum. “I’m seeing an apartment I want tomorrow and need the rent lowered. And you’re the Winter Soldier.”

He considers that for a moment and you burst into laughter just as his eyes narrow into a fond glare. “You want me to scare them into lowering the rent?”

“Don’t think of it as you scaring them,” you begin, rounding the counter to stand next to him, hip leant against the marble, “think of it as you being an amazing friend and helping me.” A moment later you add, “By scaring them.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. He glances at the bowl to avoid the risk of staring at you for too long. “Fine.”

You grin. “You really take no convincing.”

A snort and he meets your gaze. “Only when it comes to you. I’m afraid you’ll start crying again.”

“So I could ask you for anything and you’d probably say yes?”

He shrugs a bit, then nods. Who is he kidding? You could ask for his right arm and he’d give it to you.

“Okay. Go on a date with me then.”

There’s a pause— in the conversation, in his chest. “A what?”

“A date. It’s like dinner, or coffee, or a movie, or something.” You grin when he takes half a step in your direction and his hands grip onto the counter at either side of you. “It’s this thing people do when they like each other.”

Something much more than like is in the sparkling of your eyes and the tilt of your head. Something that might match exactly what’s in his eyes whenever he’s around you. His insides burn at the thought.

“I know what a date is.”

“They had those back in your day?”

He nods and leans forward. “Not from the Stone Ages.”

Your lips brush lightly against his, hand set on his chest to feel the rapid beating beneath. You smile and he thinks he might melt. “Could’ve fooled me with that hair.”

Laughing, he presses his lips to yours a little harder.

—

Apartment littered with unpacked boxes, misplaced books, and askew furniture, you sit on top of the counter where Bucky works. He’s twirling a knife through his metal fingers, arranging sprigs of chives on the cutting board with the flesh ones. 

He smiles when he catches you staring at the pan cooling on the stove. “S’not done yet.”

You sigh. Loudly, heavily. “You took it out of the oven. That means it’s done.”

“It needs to cool for a few minutes or you’ll burn off your taste buds. You want to burn off your taste buds?”

“You want to burn off your taste buds?” you repeat in a high-pitched, taunting voice. You’re scowling and, somehow, look to be on the verge of snatching the knife from him to stab it through his chest. “Maybe I do.”

Less than a minute later, you groan and add, “I don’t care how good you are in bed. I’m about ten seconds from dumping you.”

Swiftly, he chops the chives and turns around to sprinkle a bit into the baking dish. “You know, most people would say thank you.”

“Most people don’t have to wait an hour while their boyfriend attempts to make mac and cheese when there’s a perfectly good box in the freezer that would take four minutes.”

“It’s worth it.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t know if it’s worth it. 

He’d asked Sam for a recipe and did his best to follow it despite the autocorrect which had changed “gruyere” to “grape year.” But he trusts it since Sam generally knows what he’s doing in the kitchen. Unlike Steve who had continuously attempted to chime in with useless suggestions such as, “Maybe don’t add the paprika.”

“Just trust me,” he urges as if replying to the growling of your stomach which has interrupted his search for the plates he could’ve sworn he’d unpacked. He’s crouched and searching the lower cabinets as he adds, “You’ll fall in love with me after you try it.” 

“Who says I haven’t already?” 

He stops searching.

He peeks his head above the edge of the counter and, his eyes wide, he sees you pulling two plates from a box placed on the small nook table. Your smile is small and a bit sheepish— the latter something he’d never seen from you. 

“You never took them out,” you tell him, the clatter of ceramic on the wooden surface loud when you set the plates down. As you approach and he stands to his full height, you sigh and roll your eyes at the look he gives you. “Yes, I love you. It can’t be that shocking.”

“It isn’t.” 

“Someone should tell your face that.”

Chuckling over the heavy thumps in his chest, he leans forward to kiss you but pauses just to say, “I love you, too, by the way.” 

When an empty dish sits between the two of you, Bucky’s stomach warm and full of over three-quarters of it, you stand from the table and walk to the freezer. 

Shooting a smile over your shoulder, you grab the familiar red box and toss it into the stainless steel trash can. Steph Curry at the NBA Finals. “I’m never eating that shit again.”

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 33

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 6.1k

; Warnings: Discussion of car accident, brief sexual content mention, depiction of a PTSD/panic attack

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This is a bit earlier than usual but I want to get it out while it was done and I was feeling okay about it...work and job rejections have been hitting ol’ self-confidence hard so writing is a bit tougher than normal. I’ve gone through this for grammar but I haven’t properly proof read. I hope you all enjoy this though and please send me comments and feedback so I know what you think! I love to read them and it helps to boost me :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

Straightening up, you winced before rubbing at the small of your back before stretching. It was summer, which meant the sun was shining strongly. As much as you like the sun, you weren’t so much of a fan when you knelt in the grass for hours on end. The sunhat on your head helped a little, as did the sunglasses but your skin was shiny with the veneer of sweat.

You were hot, and with a deep sigh, you wiped across your forehead with your arm. The thick gardening gloves on your hands were covered in dirt and compost, keeping your hands clean but also making them incredibly warm. As much as you enjoyed gardening, it felt like a chore in the heat of a summer’s day.

But at least you had some company for your misery today. Your mom was knelt next to you, leaning forward and diligently weeding her beloved flowers. Hoseok and you had come over for the day, intending to feast yourselves on your dad’s famous pot roast before heading home with a bag full of leftovers that would be eaten at work.

Watching your mom closely for a moment, you felt a surge of warmth and love for her. You never really noticed how much older she looked now; the lines on her face that were deepening and the greys in her hair that were multiplying more than you liked. It was easy to miss the passage of time on your parents when you weren’t paying attention too closely, but now that you stopped and looked at her closely you could see it.

You hoped she was happy with how her life had turned out. Even if it wasn’t the best, that’s all you wanted for your parents. To be happy and proud of you.

“So, what’s your plan for your yard? Are you going to get that porch built that you wanted? I wouldn’t bother trying to do any of your gardens and flowers at the moment. Unless you’re planning on planting flowers that will bloom in autumn and winter. Though there are some pretty ones. I’ll have a look online for you and find the best ones if you want? Maybe we can get your garden looking all nice together, a little mother-daughter bonding time.” Smiling at her, you nod your head slowly.

“Sounds good. Though we haven’t bought it yet. Officially. I mean, they’ve accepted our offer but now it’s all that legal stuff, you know? So I don’t feel too comfortable changing anything just yet, just in case anything goes wrong.” There’s a slight hesitance to your tone. So small that you don’t even realise it’s there, but your mom recognises it.

Sitting up, she stretches as well before shifting until she’s sitting cross-legged and facing you. There’s a wince on her face from overused joints that are ageing but she doesn’t complain, instead just looking at you intently.

“What’s wrong? I can tell there’s something. Is there something wrong with the house or anything like that?” It’s amazing how easily she picks up on things like but she did raise you. Cleaned you up when you were younger and you fell over, taught you everything you know and helped to make sure you grew to be the best version of yourself.

“No. No, there’s nothing wrong with the house. Or with Hoseok, before you ask. It’s just...I feel a little stressed. Or worried rather worried that’s better. More accurate. It’s just...a house, you know? It’s a big purchase, really expensive and it’s permanent. If anything happens with Hoseok and me then we have to go through the whole process of selling it and splitting the proceeds. And then we have to move out and I wouldn’t have a home anymore and-” The gentle pressure of your mom’s hand on your arm causes you to pause.

She has a gentle smile on her face and an understanding expression which soothes whatever frayed nerves you have. This is probably one of the few times you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about this issue with Hoseok, being too worried he might take offence or something. But your mom understood.

“Sometimes...I think you get way too caught up in your thoughts. I want you to consider something, okay? Yes, it might all fall apart and it might not work out. But what if it does work out? What if everything is perfect and you get a nice house? And then Hoseok proposes and you get married. Then in fifty years, you can be telling your grandchildren all about meeting their grandad and falling in love in your lovely home.” Snorting slightly, you can’t help but roll your eyes slightly as your lips quirk.

“We’re not having kids, remember?” She makes an expression indicating she’s remembering what you’d told her. Your parents hadn’t been surprised to find out Hoseok didn’t want kids either. If anything, they’d been pleased because they knew how much you wanted to remain childfree.

“Yes, yes, but you know what I mean. Sometimes you just have to go with it. Enjoy your life in the moment sweetheart, you’ve spent far too long focusing on the negative aspects of life in my opinion. Just...take the time to enjoy the fact that you’re able to buy a house with the man you love and who loves you back. I can’t predict the future or anything but...I think you’re both going to be happy. So just focus on that, okay? You’ve got a nice little house to work on together, two cars, a cute cat, a good job and a great relationship. Focus on the positives.” Letting go of your arm, she took your hand before squeezing in reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, you let it out slowly before shifting and reaching out to carry on gardening. You know that your mom is right, but it’s still a worry that buzzes in your stomach continuously. That something will go wrong and you’ll have no home along with no Hoseok.

The very thought of not having Hoseok in your life anymore makes your breath stutter, lungs freezing until you’re pressing a hand against your chest to try and coax them back to life. One of the reasons you’d been so nervous about getting into a serious relationship had been because you were terrified of falling in love only to have it all stolen from you.

It still scared you, the idea that one day you might wake up alone and that you’d never see or talk to him again. But that was just because you loved him so much that the very idea of not being with him anymore hurt. You wondered if Hoseok felt the same, deep emotions that you did.

“I know...I know. I can’t help it, you know? I’m trying, I promise. Hoseok’s finally convinced me to give therapy a try. The antidepressants are working well but I still have moments, you know? I don’t feel entirely settled and this whole house thing is getting me a little stressed. Not because of the house itself but...just everything it symbolises. So I’ve got an appointment for one next month, the earliest I could get.” Shrugging, you smile at her before digging back into the soil to make a hole for the flowers your mom had bought.

“Good, I’m glad. I hope it works. My advice to you is to just take everything a day at a time, okay? It’ll all work out for you.” There’s a quiet reassurance in her words and you can’t help but relax, knowing that for now at least you can just enjoy yourself without any negative thoughts.

A loud groan leaves her as she stretches once more, a loud crack emanating from her back as her bones move and you wince slightly. Reaching over, you rub at her back soothingly and laugh as she lets out a deep sigh before thanking you.

“Okay, finish that flower off and then we’ll head inside. My back is killing me and I just want to sit down for a bit.” Nodding at her, you let her go before finishing off the flowerbed and packing up all the gardening stuff into the small shed your dad had built last year. 

Hands grasping at your waist cause you to shriek in surprise, spinning around and getting ready to push at the intruder. The sight of your boyfriend, his expression full of mischief, causes you to relax to the point your eyes are rolling.

“Hoseok! God, I thought you were some rando.” Hissing, you push lightly at his stomach and pout. A tiny bit of an over-reaction but if you couldn’t be dramatic with Hoseok then who could you be? He knew you weren’t truly bothered by his playfulness, especially when you leaned into his body a little.

“Bit weird for a rando to be in your parent’s backyard,” His arms slide around you, hugging you tightly and practically moulding your back to his front. “But no, it’s just your loveable weirdo.”

Snorting, you continue to carefully put away everything into their specified areas. Your mom liked things to look neat and tidy at all times now, which meant you were having to find where everything belonged. Otherwise, you’d get a phone call that would result in you being berated for leaving the shed messy.

“Is the door finished then?” Hoseok had volunteered to help your dad repaint the front door and start varnishing the porch steps. That had been around three hours ago, so you could only assume that not only were they finished but that he was probably famished. You’d discovered he seemed to have that stereotypical guy’s stomach in that it was a black hole which would eat anything and everything.

Burrowing his face into your neck, he hums in acknowledgement. Closing the drawer, you twist around until you can slip your arms around him in turn. Unlike the normal smell you’d come to adore, today he smelled of the overwhelmingly strong chemicals in the polish he’d used. It didn’t smell great and you wrinkled your nose, unhappy at the fact it wasn’t what you were used to but unwilling to move away from him.

“Thank you, for helping him. He’s been wanting that porch done for years now but his knees are so bad.” None of that is new information to Hoseok and you suspected that was why he’d volunteered to do it. To the point that he’d even headed out with your dad to the local DIY store to grab everything that they would need.

The look of happiness on your dad’s face when he’d realised that he was finally going to get one of his jobs finished had made you almost want to cry with emotion. You hadn’t though, but you were giving Hoseok a tight hug to convey your gratitude to him for being a good person. The quick kiss was just an afterthought, but he’d earned that too.

Wandering hands tell you that he’s more frisky than you’d thought he would be after the work he’d been doing, and it’s only when he squeezes a good handful of your ass that you pull away with laughter. While you still weren’t a big fan of your ass, it was still a little too big for your insecurities, Hoseok was very much a fan.

What some people call ‘an ass man’.

“Hoseok, come on. We have to go in and I am not doing anything with you in my parent’s shed. Plus, you got a blowjob this morning! I need to go help sort the vegetables out for dinner an-” Warm lips pressed against your own interrupt you, their softness making you give in almost instantly as you just enjoyed him.

Little butterflies were fluttering in your stomach as he just lazily kissed you, no urgency to his movements despite what you’d just said. Still, you didn’t push him away. He still remembered, even after over two years, that you enjoyed just kissing. Catching up on all the times you’d missed out on as a teenager and the intermittent years.

So you were loath to pull away from him; especially when he was doing what you imagined a loved-up teenage couple would do when out of sight of their parents. It was fun. Plus, Hoseok was a great kisser.

Finally, though, he stops and leans back to grin at you. It’s a testament to how much you are attracted to and love him with how strong the urge to drop to your knees for him right then and there. Maybe he could have two blowjobs in one day.

“Okay, we can go in now. Do you need help with the vegetables?” The way he changes the mood so quickly has you almost experiencing whiplash, eyes widening as you watch him turn around and walk out. Bringing a hand palm up, you squint at his back and mouth out ‘what the fuck?’ before following him.

By the time you manage to catch up to him, giving him a slightly sullen look even if you’d been the one to deny anything was going to happen, he’s already entering the house. The air is rich with the scent of slow-cooking pot roast and you sigh in contentment, heading into the kitchen.

“You can help if you want. Hey mom, it’s okay. We’ll do that for you.” Gently, you push her away from the counter and take the peeler from her hand. She looks between you both with a quizzical look, her lips quirked up into a half-smile when Hoseok just starts to wash his hands with no complaints before taking control of the carrots.

Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything except for thanks as she leaves you both to it. You get the strong feeling that she’s bemused he’s helping you without complaint or further prodding. As much as your dad likes to cook on occasion, he usually takes a little bit of convincing to get him to help out.

“Oh hey, there’s stuff to make my mom’s roast potatoes...do you want me to make them?” You don’t see the curious expression on your mom’s face as she tilts her head, watching as Hoseok lifts a bottle of soy sauce and the grinder full of black pepper. Instead, you’re too busy making an excited face at him as you nod eagerly.

“Oh my god, yes! My parents have never had them before. I think it’ll go well too as my dad always likes to put everything in the cupboard in his pot roast…”

-

“You know...you weren’t kidding when you said that there was a high chance that I could end up getting the shits from your dad’s pot roast. That was a spicy ass meal. God, it tasted so damn good though. I’m glad he made so much for us to take back.” Hoseok was sat, or rather slouched, in the passenger seat of your car.

A hand was resting on his stomach, which looked to be holding a significant food baby. Snorting with laughter, you nodded in agreement before grinning as he let his head loll on the backseat. You’d been telling him about your dad’s infamous pot roast for a long time now and he’d finally gotten to experience it. 

On top of that, your parents had been wowed by the roast potatoes Hoseok had made using his mom’s recipe. To the point that your mom had begged him to tell her how to make them, at which he’d made a big show about having to ask his mom for permission.

Somehow, that had all led to her calling his mom to formally ask for it. Even though Hoseok had been joking about it and fully intended to let her know how to make it. An hour after that, when you’d finally left after bidding your dad goodnight and with a bag full of leftover roast in Tupperware, your mom’s were still chattering away to each other.

You didn’t have too much experience with how parents were supposed to interact with each other but you were pretty sure becoming close friends wasn’t too normal. But again, you didn’t have any relevant experience here so maybe it was.

“Have you ever seen Step Brothers?” The question comes out of nowhere but Hoseok’s used to it by now. He doesn’t even look over at you in confusion or amusement, just answers you like you’d asked him what his favourite colour is.

“Yeah, why?”

“I think our moms just did that whole ‘did we become best friends?!’ thing.” Now he’s the one letting out a snort, his smile big enough that you can spot it out of the corner of your eye. He knows exactly what you mean, nodding even though you can’t see him properly.

“I think they did. You know, I’m not sure if this is a good or a bad thing. We’ll never be left alone now, you know that right?” Shrugging, you flex your fingers on the steering wheel and enjoy the texture of the leather beneath your hands. You were already approaching home, the roads quiet in the warm evening sun as everyone probably spent time in their yards.

“I like your mom. And I like my mom...sooo, I don’t see any problem with that.” Given you’re focusing on the road, you don’t notice the droll stare he gives you. Which is probably a good thing, because you’d just poke him if you had seen it.

“Are you kidding? Okay, maybe it’s just me that won’t be left alone then. I’ll never be able to do anything wrong. Whether it’s trivial or something serious.” There’s a serious whine to his voice and a glance over shows you that he’s pouting almost comically, causing you to giggle at his protruding lower lip. He may be a little dirty and sweaty from his day’s work, covered in tattoos and piercings but he just looked adorable.

“Well...I guess you’ll have to be on your best behaviour then, won’t you?”

“Very funny. I tell you, I’m going to hear about everything tiny thi-” He’s cut off by your loud cursing, the words coarse and filled with vitriol as you glare at the asshole who almost hit you. Slamming on the brake, you jerk forward hard as the car stops far quicker than you expected and the seat belt feels almost like it’s choking.

“Fucking hell, these brakes are sharper than I expected.” You exclaim, resting your hands in the perfect driving position on the wheel while letting out a deep breath to calm yourself. Glaring down the road, you note that the other car isn’t even there anymore and you can’t help yourself from flipping the bird in the air.

You were at the last intersection before your street, the opening just ahead of the traffic lights that had been green for you. Which meant that they had been red for whoever that ass was. It hadn’t stopped them from speeding as they ran their red, coming within inches of hitting your side of the car if you hadn’t braked so suddenly.

Shuddering, you crack your neck and wince as you rub at it, hoping you hadn’t caused yourself whiplash. Setting off again, you scowl before realising you were hearing a weird noise. Frowning deeply, you look over the display to see if any warning lights have come on before realising it’s coming from your side.

It takes one look to realise Hoseok is very much not okay. 

He’s paler than you’ve ever seen and that immediately startles you, but what’s even more worrying is the way he’s got a death grip on the door handle and his seat cushion. You have to look away from him sooner than you would have liked given you were still driving, turning into the street with the house in sight now but you could hear him.

And you weren’t sure that you’d ever heard something so...haunting.

It was like he couldn’t breathe properly; his chest constricted or something while pained noises were being dragged out of his throat. You don’t even realise that you’ve sped up, subconsciously trying to get home and park so that you can help your boyfriend with whatever’s going on.

He’s still making those horrible sounds and breathing like he’s run a marathon when you pull into the drive, putting the parking brake on and turning the engine off before turning to him. Reaching out a hand slowly, it’s only when you can feel his bicep that you realise he’s trembling. No, not trembling. He’s shaking almost violently despite his death grip on the car.

“Hobi...Hoseok. Baby, what’s wrong? What’s wrong?” You didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t understand what was happening. Why was he acting like this? Like he’d just seen a ghost or something.

And then it clicks in your head. The intersection, the idiot who almost hit you, the way you’d slammed on the brakes and cursed a storm. For you, it had just been an annoyance and a near miss. But Hoseok had been in a situation like that when he was a child, and it hadn’t been a near miss.

“Oh, shit. Shit. Fuck,” Muttering, you look around the car as you wonder how to break him out of whatever attack he’s suffering. “It’s okay, Hoseok. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe, you’re okay. I promise.” 

As you try to find something to jar him out of his memories, you talk to him constantly. It’s utter nonsense what you’re saying but you want to make sure he can hear someone he loves, reassures him that he’s not alone. Glancing over to him, you swallow thickly at how panicked and frightened he looks.

Pulling out the tube of hard peppermints that had been living in your bag for probably two years at this point, you thrust them into his nose. It’s probably a dumb thing to do but something you’d learnt since your panic attack had been that a good way to get people out of the looping fear was something unexpected.

The strong scent of the hard-pressed mints was probably hard to miss given you jammed it against his nose a little too hard. There was white powder left, which wouldn’t look too great if anyone happened to see him, but you didn’t care. It worked.

Yanking his head back suddenly, Hoseok took a deep breath that sounded more painful than you like before looking at you with wide eyes. Letting the mints drop to the floor, you shift until you can reach and cup his face in your hands.

He feels cold yet the apples of his cheeks are so hot, his breath still faster than you liked but there’s coherence in his gaze. The Hoseok you know and love is back, no longer trapped in the memory of an eight-year-old. Guilt overwhelms you as you realise that you’d probably caused this.

“Hobi…” Is all you manage to get out before you’re stopped once more. Only this time, it’s by the way his face crumples and his eyes glisten as tears bank in them. It makes your chest tighten painfully to see him hurting; especially given how he so clearly tries not to let himself fall over the edge.

It’s only when your thumbs gently stroke at the skin of his cheeks, soft yet ever so slightly prickly from his evening shadow that was beginning to make itself known, that he cracks. The tears slowly slide down his face, each one shining in the evening light while his lips wobble as he tries to keep them pressed together.

“Baby, it’s okay. You’re okay, we’re okay.” You’re pretty positive that you’ve never seen anything more heartbreaking than watching Hoseok slowly break down. The rock in your turbulent emotions and mind, eroding as the dark currents of his mind hit at his weak points.

He just stares at you for a moment before he’s grasping at the door handle, breathing heavily before almost throwing himself out of the car. For a moment, you just stared out of the open door, watching as Hoseok practically scrambles for the porch of your house. It takes a few seconds for your brain to finally catch up, propelling you out of the car to follow him.

Crouching down, you reach out slowly to see if he’d be okay with you touching him. He’s sat down, the faded white paint on the old porch looking chipped and dirty as he rests a hand on it. When he doesn’t push you away, you carefully sit down next to him and rub his back in slow, soothing movements.

You can feel the muscles there shaking, his limbs still trembling slightly from the traumatic memory he’d probably had. Not a word has passed from his lips, only heavy breathing that he’s slowly managing to regulate once more and worry fills you.

“Hoseok...it’s okay. You’re okay,” Shuffling a little closer, you move your hand up to stroke the short hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m okay, you’re okay. We’re home. Nothing bad happened. I’m sorry for triggering bad memories.”

Hoseok shakes his head suddenly, the movement fierce and firm. Eyes widening, you let out a small ‘eep’ as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly. This gesture is much different from his earlier embrace in your parent’s shed. There’s a little more urgency to this, the way his hands run along you isn’t sensual but more like he’s reassuring himself that you’re real.

That you are okay.

“You’re not hurt, you’re okay. Right? No pain, n-no injuries? You’re okay?” His voice quivers, breaking halfway through his words and your heart contracts at the sight of the fear in his eyes. The tears are still falling down his face, almost like he doesn’t realise and you gently cup his cheeks once more, wiping away at them.

This time, he seems to recognise your touch fully and leans into it, pressing his forehead against yours as a choked sob sounds from his throat. Cooing to him, you rearrange him until his head is buried in the space between your neck and shoulder, his larger frame seeming so small as you wrap your arms around him protectively.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, I swear. Nothing happened. That asshole ran the red light but I braked quick enough. I was just angry at him, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...to do this. I’m so sorry.” Now it’s your turn for your voice to crack, emotions tumbling together at seeing him so afraid and upset.

“S’not you. It wasn’t you,” He mumbles against your hoodie, squeezing you a little tighter. “It was...it was just the sound and the feeling. The brakes screeching, the cursing, being thrown forward. It was...I was back there. Then, back then. It was just so similar. The intersection and it all just...I guess my mind just got lost in it. It was like I was reliving that moment in my head; both here and back then. I could hear you but I could hear my parents, my sister. I couldn’t figure out what was real.”

You didn’t have any experience with this, with any of it and you didn’t know what to do. From your limited experience of watching shows and movies, you guessed he’d had some kind of flashback to his childhood accident. The sounds and movements of the incident throwing him back decades into that traumatic moment. You felt stupid that you’d never even considered he could still have some form of PTSD it.

At least, you assumed that’s what it was. 

“You’re here. Here with me and we’re okay. I don’t...I gotta be honest baby, I don’t want to say. Or do. What do you need from me?” You hated having to ask that, putting the onus on him to figure out what you should be doing to help him. But you had no idea, you’d never dealt with this. You couldn’t even manage your panic attacks, nevermind one caused by a flashback.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t stress about it. You got me out of my head, that was good. Quick thinking,” Pulling away from you, he laces his fingers together before lowering his head till it’s between his knees and just breathes slowly. “Fuck, I’ve not had one of those in a long time.”

“You’ve had them before?”

There’s silence for a few minutes as he just breathes slowly, his eyes closed as he forces himself to relax. Twisting his lips, he rolls his head and the crack of his neck is loud in the quietness of the street. You don’t push him, letting him take his time to get to terms with what had just happened.

It was a good thing because you weren’t entirely sure what you were meant to do.

“Yeah. I used to get them when I was a kid. It took months for my parents to convince me to get in a car after it happened. Certain things would just...trigger a panic attack or a flashback like then. I can’t listen to the song that was on the radio at the time and...well as you’ve just seen, a sequence of events like that sets me off. A lot of my behaviour when I was younger, was a result of the PTSD from the accident. I thought I’d pretty much got past having these incidents as it’s been forever since I’ve had one.” Wiping at his face, he looks away from you and down towards the end of the road.

Wiggling over to him, you lean against him supportively before carefully taking his hand and linking your fingers. He lets you, his hand mostly limp except the slightest tremble of his fingers. Running the fingers of your free hand along the back of his, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t be angry or upset or anything, you can’t help it. I know very well that we can’t control what our brains do. It probably thinks it’s trying to protect you somehow but...you got through it pretty quickly. You’re okay and you’re here, talking to me rationally pretty quickly. Maybe you had this because you weren’t driving, right? So you weren’t able to do anything about it. When you’re driving, your mind is usually focused on something else.” Part of you recognises that you’re just rambling crap to him but you want to keep him listening. Make sure that he doesn’t fall back into his mind.

Turning to look at you, Hoseok gives you a weak smile and you feel pain in your chest at how tired and sad he looks suddenly. All signs of your happy and boisterous boyfriend have vanished for the moment. You’ve never felt more useless.

“Yeah, probably. You’re probably right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin-” Cutting him off with a sharp gesture, you gently poke at his arm before smiling.

“Don’t apologise. Please don’t apologise for something you can’t control. You tell me this all the time, so now I get to tell you. It’s okay to not be okay, remember? All I care about is that you’re okay, that you’re not hurting or scared. That’s it. I don’t care that it happened, I only care about you.” His eyes look a little watery again at that, his smile weak yet a little happier than before.

“I know it’s early but...can we just go to bed? Just nap or something? I’m so tired. From working on the porch earlier and from this, I just want to cuddle you and sleep.” Tilting your head, you scan over him slowly and sigh softly.

Hoseok looks tired, his shoulders slumping and back slouching from the weight of everything. It’s the least you can do for him, especially if that’s all he wants. So you nod, smiling at him before squeezing his hand.

“Sure. You go head in, I’ll grab the stuff and put it away then come up.” Standing, you head over to the car to grab everything your parents had given you to bring home. The sound of Hoseok’s keys jangling together as he opens the door is familiar, as is the door closing to prevent Kasumi from getting out. A glance back tells you that he’s inside and you let your head drop, hands resting on the cushion of the backseat as you take a deep breath.

Taking the time to just inhale and exhale slowly, you tell yourself to relax as well. Just as you’d told him that he was okay and safe, you had to acknowledge the same for you now as well. Seeing Hoseok like that was scary and you would be happy if you never saw anything like that again. It hurt to see him afraid, to see him cry and struggle with himself. Was this what it was like for him when you were experiencing a bad mental health day?

Shaking your head, you blow the air out of your cheeks before looking up at the sky. The colours are starting to become more extravagant and vibrant, the blue deepening into purples, pinks and oranges as the sun sets. It’s still warm out but there’s a pleasant breeze that cools you, blowing gently through the grass and the branches of the trees that line the road.

It all looks so peaceful and calm, so unlike what you’d been experiencing not even ten minutes ago. Swallowing, you grabbed the bags and pulled them out, closing the door and locking the car before heading inside.

His shoes are alongside the others but there’s no sign of him downstairs. No noise coming from the bedroom either and you look up the stairs with a concerned expression. You didn’t know what to do, what was right to do. So all you could do was what he asked.

Quickly putting away the leftover food and baked goods your mom had given you, you head upstairs to the bedroom. The curtains are already closed, leaving the room darker than in the hallway and a glance at the clothes hamper lets you guess he’s probably gotten into some comfy pyjamas.

The shape underneath the covers doesn’t move, but you smile at seeing Kasumi laid alongside him with wide and unblinking eyes. Quickly pulling your clothes off, you get into a fresh pair of pyjamas as well before heading over to the bed, placing your phone on the bedside table.

“Hey, pretty girl. Are you looking after daddy?” Whispering, you slide into bed and stroke at her soft fur. Hoseok’s eyes shine slightly in the dim light, the covers pulled up to his chin in an almost protective way as he watches you shower love onto Kasumi.

Turning your attention to him, you take him in for a moment with a soft smile. Gravity makes his cheeks softer and rounder while lying down, his lips pouting a little more than normal while his hair half flops onto the pillow. He looks adorable, yet there’s still that vulnerability in his eyes.

“Do you want to be the little spoon?” You ask, grinning when he nods quietly. It takes no time for you to shuffle forward, meeting him in the middle of the bed and wrapping your arms around him. He nuzzles his head into the space below your chin, his arms trapped between both your bodies while you throw your leg over him as well.

Grinning to yourself despite the serious situation earlier, you can’t help but find some peace and happiness at this moment. To know that he loved you enough to feel safe in your embrace like this, to feel protected and not silly. You were smaller than him, yet you knew that you would keep him as safe as you possibly could.

Reaching up, you alternate between running the strands of his hair through your fingers and massaging his scalp in the way he likes. A quiet rumble of appreciation leaves him at the feeling, his body relaxing in your arms. It would never fail to amuse you how easily you could get him to sleep just by playing with his hair. And you wanted him to sleep right now, to have good and pleasant dreams to rid himself of the anxiety and panic from earlier.

Pressing your lips to his head, you sigh quietly and tell him something that you rarely vocalise. Normally it’s hard to get the words out, but today they flow easily and you can practically feel the way he relaxes even further. 

“I love you.”

[drewstarky]

olive | chapter one

pairing: actor!Tom Holland x actor!reader

words: 3.5k ish

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex and smut (in between the ***)

a/n: special thanks for @stuckonspidey for helping me not only start a kinda guideline for this story, but go over the beginning of this chapter, go check out Lilly’s works!

I also am taking name suggestions for one of the characters (little miss diva celebrity personal) as im horrid at coming up with names and also want to involve you! (That’s why she don’t have a name in this yet lol) so send me an ask with your suggestions!

series masterlist

You couldn’t believe it. How could it even be comprehended of what was going on when it felt like a dream? 

bro, you’re living every Instagram jealous fangirl’s dream right now…

Man, you couldn’t even imagine the backlash you’d be getting after this once everyone knew. 

Let’s hope they never find out.

Maybe this whole ordeal should be explained...

You had been at an after-party for the first big movie you did, well it was a featuring role, that the character literally had a sex scene with Sebastian Stan- yeah you know what you’re thinking, he’s a literal Greek god heaven-sent being- we all know.

Anyways me being me found him way too unattainable- God all those marvel actors and actresses were-, especially after the mishap of seeing his butt naked self before the scene, and him telling you it was fine because you were like his “little sister”. Either way, he was a no go, and you kinda wanted to find someone to take home. you hadn’t been laid in a while, and after seeing Sebastian naked you kinda needed relief. 

you were looking for someone more in your league scanning the room, until Seb decided to bombard you at the bar, with probably another one of his actor friends he wanted to introduce you to. 

Yeah, heh… I know how this sounds, but you two actually became pretty close on set, as the lead to his opposite, was a total snob, and Seb couldn’t stand her so you’d do a spot-on impression of her while roasting her, and Seb and you got along pretty well because of that. You’re probably questioning: why Seb? Of all people why would a famous person like him get along with a weirdo like me? 

Boy, do I look like I know?

in all your years it would still probably be a mystery till you died. 

Throughout the night Seb had been introducing you to all his friends and helping you “network” even though they all knew you sucked. That still didn’t stop you from having a small heart attack every time it was an actor you admire.

This time maybe was a little different because you had downed some drinks, and was a little more… bodacious? That’s probably the worst description you could come up with but it is what it is... anyways it was the only way you could get through the night without completely dying of being in front of literal heaven-sent beings.

“Hey Y/n! you’d like you to meet one of my pals!” Sebastian yelled over the music, cutting through people to get to me.

you were sitting at the bar just getting another martini with olives. Before taking a sip you saw him. Holy guacamole! He was definitely out of your league, but alas, he was trailing Sebastian, coming over to you, with you almost doing a spit take. you knew who he was, but man, was he ever hotter in person! pictures did not do his beauty justice.

“Hey, Sebby, who’s the next victim you’re introducing to moi?” you ask, stirring your drink with the olives. 

Seb shook his head at you, with a smirk on his face

“This is Tom, and Tom this is the infamous Y/n.” you definitely rolled your eyes at that one.

“It’s a Pleasure.” He says all gentleman-like.

Just as Sebastian is about to speak, none other than the stuck up lead of the movie calls over to him.

“Sebastian, they're taking group photos of the main character’s with Drake Doremus, our director.” 

You could tell Sebastian refrained from rolling his eyes at the way she was smirking at you.

 “Sorry Tom! Y/n and I have to go-”

“Uh, Sebastian, they want the main cast. No extras.” she snarkily snaps.

“She’s not an extra she’s a featuring role and y/n-”

“I’m fine here entertaining Tom. Besides I’m all photoed out.” you cut him off quickly trying to deescalate the situation before Seb snapped on her causing a scene for all the hungry photographers to eat up.

“See? She doesn’t want to get in the way of our spotlight. I’ll meet you over there.” she blows a kiss at Sebastian and walks over to our director.

“Are you sure about this y/n? Because you know Drake would be fine with it, and she has no say over it anyways and-”

“I’m fine, and anyways, it would be rude to leave your friend here when you just introduced us.” you comforted giving the most genuine smile you can.

He dramatically sighs, raising his arms in surrender,  “Well if she ends up in the pool, it’s not my fault.” 

You laugh and wave him off before turning your attention to the arachnid superhero sitting beside you now at the bar. You sit in silence for a bit, admiring his freckles and eyes before speaking up.

“I’m sorry about all of that she can sometimes be such a-”

“-Bitch?”

“I was going to say Diva but that works too” you giggle as he starts to laugh with you.

“So Mister Spider-man, what made you come over here to be introduced to me?”

“I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t know anything about you till today, and seeing you act in this movie, I really am a fan of yours. Your acting ability in just this one movie blew me away!” He says intently, gazing into my eyes.

“You’re just saying that because I have a sex scene in the movie. It’s also probably just because of Sebastian’s acting. Or maybe you were turned on. ” you joke winking at him as you turn towards the bar, almost finishing your drink for the second time

He laughs, with a sly smirk on his face, “maybe.”

Before you can respond Sebastian interrupts.

“Hey, sorry I took so long, Miss Diva needed her ‘best angles’”

You internally groan. You just got cock blocked by the one you wanted before this whole ordeal.

“Well, I think I’m going to head out. We’re still on for breakfast tomorrow right?” Tom says, getting up abruptly.

“Yeah, Unless Y/n wants to bail on breakfast then we're still on, Then golf which Y/n will definitely bail on.” Sebastian jokes.

You were almost speechless, Seb said you’d meet some of his closest friends at the big brunch tomorrow. At least you’d be seeing him tomorrow. Maybe Sebastian set this all up? Either way, you weren’t turning down the opportunity.

“Well, uh I better get back to my hotel as well. We need to get up bright and early, and you know I need my sleep.” you mention, before downing the rest of your drink- very unladylike- and popping the olives into your mouth cringing a bit while eating them.

You hated olives, but it felt like such a waste to not eat them. You may have been in ‘high society’ but you still knew how rude it would have been, at least in your head it was.

“Party poopers. I’m gonna go say my goodbyes. Don’t wait for me.” Sebastian turns away going towards a group of his friends.

“I have a car coming, I can drop you off?”

“Oh, uh- are you sure? I don’t want to be a burde-”

“You’re not at all! Great company so far if you ask me,” he comments so… gentleman like.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, and Once you got up and going, with Tom trailing behind you, you had to dodge a couple of waiters, apologizing every time, before really bumping into a waiter, who accidentally pushes Miss Diva, who wobbles before falling into the pool.

You stand there in shock almost watching as she, in slow motion falls into the pool, screaming on the way down. 

As soon as she emerges, she looks dead eyes at you, with looks that could literally, and probably would kill you.

Everyone falls silent before Sebastian, from across the pool breaks out into a fit of laughter and yells for you to “run”. Everyone who worked in the film and even the waiter starts to laugh along. Drake, your director takes out his phone before snapping a few photos. 

“AH! I‘m gonna kill you Y/n!” she screams at you before trying to swim to the ladder of the pool.

“Here,” Tom says before handing a hefty tip to the waiter before grabbing your hand and pulling you to the exit, “C’mon Y/n!”

The only thing that ran through your mind was “Holy shit. I’m dead now.”

Tom kept dragging you, to the entrance, through the paparazzi, and into the car, which mind you, the car was really nice, almost tumbling onto him.

“I’m a dead man now” you chanted a couple of times, before Tom started laughing really obnoxiously.

“Dude! You think me being six feet under is funny?!” ,You try not to giggle along to the now almost intoxicating sound, before hearing a pinging of his phone.

“Y/n, you’ll be trending for being Hollywood's hero!” He says before checking his device, “Trust me when I say she has no fanbase, at least won’t after this video Sebastian just sent me.”

“What?” you say stunned, before Tom shows you the video.

“That Fucking Bitch Y/n! You All saw that?! Y/n pushed me in purposely! She’s only out to get me, the talent of the movie! Talentless little bit-”

Sebastain cuts in the video “Yeah we’ve all heard it, you think you’re so much better than Y/n, Blah, Blah, Blah! You’ve treated her like shit from day one, and all she’s ever been was kind to you! I think karma is finally getting to you!”

Then your director steps in, “Well, I have news, we’re doing another movie, but in this time, Y/n has been bumped to lead role! I’m not so sure where your contract lies anymore though... Maybe it's just floating around in the water like your louboutins!”

Everyone cheers in applause in the video, chanting your name before it ends.

“What?! No, no, no! I don't deserve this because of a faulty point! She doesn't deserve this either! I know she's mean but to steal away from her talent and for someone to post that video?! She doesn't deserve that!” 

You started to freak out. Not only would she murder you if she had the chance, but no one deserved, not even she deserved the worst of what was going to come from the backlash from that video.

“Please tell me no one posted it!” you ask frantically.

“No, not yet, I’ll tell Seb not to, but I don’t think he can stop all the people who videotaped it.” He almost cringes, looking guilty.

“It’s fine I’ll just tweet something in the morning.” you sigh covering your face before telling tom where your hotel was.

It was almost upsetting, you felt like a second choice because of a bad apple in the batch, and you were the next.

“Hey Y/n? I know we don’t know each other well, but even though she might be booted down, or even off the next movie, your talent is real, and it doesn't take away from what you can do. From what I got from you already is that you're beautiful inside and out, as cheesy as it sounds.”

What the fuck. He was a fucking sweetheart. Let’s hope the fucking part litterally.

“Thanks Tom.”

You sit in an almost comfortable silence, all the way till you get to your hotel.

Once stepping out, Tom speaks up “Goodnight Y/n.”

“Dream of me Tom.” you wink before heading up to think of the game plan for tomorrow.

Once you got into bed, you couldn’t help but think of him. 

Why did he have to be so nice? Like god, did sweet guys ever make you horny.

Oh shit. Tom Freaking Holland made you this way.

Lets just say, you really did dream of him, probably because you thought of him while- well you know before falling asleep.

***

“Tommy!” you moaned loudly, as he went down on you, licking stripes from the base of your pussy to your clit.

He moaned onto your sensitive clit, sending vibrations all the way up your body, and especially to your core.

You could feel yourself getting close. His iron (man™️) grip on your thighs had you wishing it would never end and then-

***

Your obnoxious ringtone you had for Sebastian went off abruptly waking you up. You had set it to a fucked up sounding avengers theme song. 

“What the Fu-”

“Y/n uh, apparently there's a shit ton of paparazzi at your hotel right now… do you still want to go to the brunch?

You pause, “What? The Fuck?” you continue to look outside your window and sure enough, there's a hoard of them outside.

Greaaaaaat…

You really weren't sure about going, until you got a call from an unknown number. 

“Uh I’m getting another call gimme a sec-” you end the call with seb before answering the mystery person.

“Hey Y/n it’s me, Tom, Im uh almost in the back alley of your hotel waiting for you, I mean, only if you want to come, you were on my way anyways so i thought-”

“Hey Tom,uh yeah- okay, I’ll be down in twenty?” You say rushing around trying to find your suitcase.

“Okay, I’ll uh, tell Seb we’re coming soon” 

Tom hangs up after you say goodbye, and couldn't help the grin that reached his face being almost smacked back into reality by his brother, Harry and best friend, Harrison, goofing off.

“You div! You almost ruined my hair!” Harrison whines, as Harry rolls his eyes.

You, on the other hand, were rushing around taking a Guinness world record shower, before drying your hair, putting on minimal face shit, because thanks to Tom you didn't have time, and putting on an outfit that made you feel super cute and ready for golfing, well, watching it.

You weren’t much of a sport player, minus the competitive side that came out as soon as anyone challenged you. Then suddenly, you were an allstar (by smash mouth p.s fuck smash mouth) at whatever came your way.

Lets just hope you had this in the bag if someone challenged you. 

Your phone buzzed and you jumped, before quickly answering the texts you had gotten.

‘Are you coming?’

‘Yes seb im coming soon ;)’

‘Hey y/n it’s tom were here when your ready :)’

‘Wrong “you’re” but im coming lol ;)’

As you made your way down, Tom kept fiddling in his seat, trying to relax yet impress you. He just had to get over her, and you were the perfect solution for that. He didn't want to use you or anything, just have some casual fun that will help him move on.

As soon as you come into sight, of course looking both ways of the alley because who knows who's lurking, or going to hit you like Regina George, Tom couldn't help but almost drool in admiring you. You had your gorgeous legs on display, almost gleaming in the sunlight starting to peek through the alley, and your hair, looking almost effortless in your hairstyle, that took you like, five minutes to do. 

 As soon as you got into the car, Tom was snapped out of his daze, quickly trying to catch himself before being caught.

“Hey Y/n! You remember Harry? And this is Harrison. Harrison, Y/n-”

“Y/n I’m a really big fan! Maybe not as big as Tom’s di-” 

“Mate! Shut up!” Harry jabs Harrison in the side. You couldn't help but laugh at the interaction.

“Y/n i’m sorry about these divs.” he glares at them red in the face which makes you laugh even harder.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it from my catty family.”

“Oi! We’re not catty!” Harry says before Harrison gives him a wet willy in the ear.

“Haz!-”

And that's when you started to block out their fighting to focus on Tom.

“So uh, how many people will be at this? Sebastian totally didn't tell me for legal purposes of marvel-people-are-coming-so-don’t-tell-y/n-or-else-she’ll-freak-out.” You joke before earning a snort from Tom.

“Uh well, if you really want to know, the people I know are coming are Anthony Mackie, Chris Evans, Scarlett Johansson- you should close your mouth love, don't want any flies in there.”

You couldn't help but have your jaw slacked, and mouth hanging open. These were people you only had ever dreamed of meeting. You had to focus on what you wanted though. Tom was the priority, but damn were you going to freak out on the inside.

“That’s not the only thing you’re worried about going into my mouth? Right?” You joke, definitely meaning a sexual innuendo, but with a cover-up.

Now Tom’s the one with the open mouth.

“Damn bro!” 

“Oh my God!”

A chorus of reactions come through from Harrison and Harry, only leading you to say,

“Well? Don’t you have a frog in yours?” 

He tries to brush it off with laughter, though you could see his red face. He only hoped he didn’t have an even more noticeable way of telling he was turned on by that.

As the driver stopped, you realized you were at the restaurant, and man, was it ever a fancy and probably extorting you of all your life savings one too.

Tom almost rushed out of that vehicle, getting hotter than he should have been with the air conditioner blasting, if you were to ask, he’d blame it on the weather (we all know it’s not the weather).

You got out next, covering your face with your hand to block out some of the sun, and crossed your arm over to hold it steady, which may or may not have slightly squished your boobs together, making Tom’s mouth salivate. Man, was he ever screwed today, maybe literally as well.

As soon as he hurried into the restaurant, with you following closely behind, dogging more paparazzi, Tom goes to the front and asks where “Mr. Stan's table” is directed at the hostess. As soon as she saw Tom she looked behind to see you, which she definitely recognized the both of you, and that was pretty surprising, as you've never been recognized, other than hanging out with Sebastian, due to the movie.

“Right this way sir.” the hostess says professionally, leading you to your demise.

You were holding your breath. There were so many of them, all at once that you admired, it was going to be a difficult task. You could barely handle meeting sebastian stan, but all of your favorite celebs at once? 

oof

Once you got to the table hidden away in the corner, everyone said a chorus of greetings to Tom and friends and you.

You swallowed hard, only mustering out a small wave, before Tom pulled out a chair for you, (his momma taught him to be a gentleman) and you slid in whispering a small thank you.

Tom sat beside you to your left, with Harrison and Harry on your right. Sebastian was sitting right across from you, alongside Anthony Mackie, Scarlett Johansson, Chris Evans, Jeremy Renner, Chris Hemsworth, and Elizabeth Olsen surrounding the rest of the table.

“Hey everyone, so this is infamous Y/n, as you've probably seen the film or, the viral video, either way, this is her.”

“Hey! Y/n Seb here has told us so many stories about you, it’s like we already know you! You're a fan right? So who’s your favorite?”

You try to get words out but they don't seem to come. Tom notices and barges into the conversation,  “It’s obviously spider-man, ‘cause i'm so her type.” Tom mentions, in a cocky yet sarcastic tone, which started a spark for you to say something.

“And apparently I'm sitting beside a div? If that's the right word you use for a blubbering idiot.” you retort, re-using the words of his own. That got you a bunch of responses of “burns” “ohs!” and laughter.

It was almost as if the tips of Tom's ears were red in embarrassment with him still laughing along. You couldn't help but laugh as well at the sight.

During the rest of the course of breakfast, you had actually been vocal and had become quite fond of the people you now could say you knew, in one brunch. You especially loved the banter between Anthony, Seb and Tom, whereas you talked mostly to Scarlett and Lizzie, as she told you to call her, and Jeremy about projects they had done, and were looking for in their next ones.

Soon you had all had finished breakfast and had gotten the checks, with your eyes almost bulging out of your head at the price. 

Tom whispered into your ear, “I’ll pay, don't want your kidneys sold for this meal. Besides, I have to beat Seb in some way today.” he winks at you.

Your face feels slightly warm. 

Why did he have to be so nice?

“Well we should go to the course now everyone, I know Y/n’s out of playing so she can go to the pool, cause she apparently sucks at golf even though she's never tried it.” Sebastian taunts you. 

“Oh screw you Seb, I can totally do it, maybe, probably not but i'll try-”

“It’s nice to see some A list actors eat here too.” 

oh shit. It was her. 

[wildroseofarran]

Facing Demons || Brett, Guildias, MJ, & Pete || April, 2020

Brett: It had been several weeks since Brett had received that letter from California. During that time the letter had sat untouched in his locked desk drawer at the station, coming out only once when it had been shown to his domitor.

The rest of the time had been spent keenly aware of its presence while contemplating burning it or trying and failing to work up the courage to get it out again. Brett could think of good reasons to do the former and only one to do the latter, yet somehow, he hadn't ever been able to bring himself to get rid of it. He hadn't been able to work up the courage either.

Truth be told, he had no idea what finally made him do it; just that while having his lunch one afternoon, he found himself unlocking that drawer and looking at that number scrawled on the bottom.

"God help me," he sighed.

{Text to MJ} Hi

{Text} Does the offer still stand?

MJ: MJ felt for his phone on the bedside table. Blackened out room. Still no night vision; still no desire to live in daylight.

The brightness of the screen burned his retinas, hissing like a cat. The phone bounced between hands in an exhausting rescue attempt.

{Text} Whoooo yes. Hi. {Text} If this is the sheriff absolutely

Brett: Right, new number. MJ wouldn't remember Brett's phone number, he should've self-identified. Silly mistake brought on by buckets of anxiety.

{Text} Yeah, sorry about that

{Text} It's Brett Parker

MJ: {Text} Sup man

{Text} Where ya want? When?

{Text} Please don't say right now my eyeballs are roasting

Brett: Brett stared down at his phone, worrying his lip between his teeth. He hadn’t thought he’d make it this far and didn’t have a plan.

{Text to Guildias} Hey

{Text to Guildias} I finally got up the courage to contact MJ

Guildias: {Text from Guildias} Are you alright?

Brett: {Text to Guildias} Kind of. Feeling anxious and like I shouldn’t be eating lunch because I’m afraid I might see it again

{Text to Guildias} He’s asking where and when I want to meet

Guildias: The next text takes a minute.

{Text} You wish for me to accompany you?

Brett: {Text} I would, if you’re still willing

Guildias: {Text} Where would you feel most comfortable?

Brett: {Text} Your place, if we’re being completely honest

Guildias: {Text} Set up the meeting, then.

Brett: {Text} What time works best?

Guildias: {Text} Eight o'clock. {Text} Have to yield to our schedule tonight.

Brett: Brett had figured as much. At least he had a few hours to calm himself down and work up even more courage to actually go through with it.

{Text} I thought as much

{Text} Is it okay if I come a little early?

Guildias: {Text} It'll just be me. I would prefer you first.

Brett: Brett took a deep breath. That much was a relief. Getting there first was just a small little thing but he knew from other experiences that it would help a lot.

{Text} Okay, thank you

{Text} Is it all right if I get there around 7:30?

Guildias: {Text} That's fine. Wait at the door for me and do try not to be alarmed by my appearance.

Brett: He frowned at his phone. Alarmed? Why would he be alarmed?

{Text} I promise I'll try my best

{Text} See you tonight

Guildias: Guildias felt under-dressing, shirtless as he had been for days, would distract from the occasion. A black loose-fitted V-neck sweater was slipped into and tucked. The left sleeve hung, empty from down the elbow.

A text was sent Callum, warning of the impending chapter about to unfold.

Brett: Now that there was a plan in place, Brett turned his attention back to his other conversation with a bit less anxiety.

{Text to MJ} No, don't worry. I'm working right now

{Text to MJ} Are you free tonight at 8? We can meet at Guildias' house

MJ: MJ stared for a moment. He shouldn't have been surprised. Something in the suggestion of Guildias insulted him.

{Text} Yeah. I'll see ya then

Brett: {Text} See you then

{Text} Also, just out of curiosity, why are your eyeballs roasting?

MJ: {Text} Daylight sheriff

{Text} I have this skin condition see

{Text} Where everything hurts and I'm dying because daytime

Brett: {Text} Right, forgot it's the middle of the day only for me

{Text} Sorry about that

{Text} I'll see you tonight

MJ: {Text} Get some vitamin D for me

Brett: {Text} Will do

Now to attempt to finish his lunch and the rest of his shift despite the queasy feeling in his stomach. He also had to tell Bo that he would be home late.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he sighed to his sandwich.

Guildias: Guildias unlocked the one and only entrance at 7:15 pm. Walked around the house once and stepped outside with a pair of brown octagonal sunglasses. The moon was warm and far too bright to ignore tonight. Its image a reminder of Peter Graham. Made him curious enough to message the gentle beast as he took a seat on the edge of the porch.

Brett/Pete: Brett was still busy working up courage in his car somewhere, but Pete not nearly as much. The pub was quiet tonight, giving him a chance to check his phone.

{Text} Fancy hearing from you

{Text} What are you up to?

Guildias: {Text} Growing things. Relaxing by moonlight and thinking of you.

{Text} But truly, playing the role of mediator.

Pete: {Text} Awww, that’s sweet. Growing things is certainly one way to put it

{Text} Who or what are you mediating?

Guildias: {Text} A lost relationship.

{Text} I strive to squash avoidable headaches.

Pete: {Text} Nothing breaks the ice like food and booze

{Text} Could help avoid those headaches

Guildias: {Text} If it were only so simple.

Pete: {Text} There’s gotta be something that’ll help

Guildias: {Text} Time and proof and willingness.

Pete: {Text} Sounds like you’ve got at least one of those if you’re being asked to mediate

Guildias: {Text} We shall see if that is the case.

{Text} You take care now.

Brett/Pete: {Text} You too, man

{Text} Sending you luck and good energy

Two things Brett was in sore need of as he pulled up to Guildias’ house. It was just shy of 7:30 but he hadn’t been able to drive around in idle circles any longer.

He just hoped Guildias wouldn’t mind.

Guildias: Guildias watched, raised his hand in wave, cigarette pinched between two fingers. He seemed to be favoring his right shoulder, elbow leaned against the porch. The sleeve of his left arm was mostly empty, laid flat over his abdomen.

Brett: Brett didn't notice at first. He waved back and cut the engine, got out just as he always did. It didn't hit him that something looked...not quite right until he was walking towards the house, and even then, it took him getting even closer to see that Guildias' left hand wasn't poking out of its sleeve.

And actually...that left sleeve looked empty, didn't it? Almost like....

"Wait, wh--where's your arm?! Sorry, hi, I just--hell, I broke my promise already."

Guildias: "It's alright." Less panic than expected of the timid sheriff. Another tally in his progression. More concern than fear.

"It was by design. You'll find me in proper form next week. For now, I would appreciate your tying the end."

Brett: There was definitely more concern, along with an avalanche of questions that he planned to keep to himself for the time being. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Just tell me how."

Guildias: "Just a simple knot. Not too tight. The dangle is rather annoying."

Brett: "You got it."  Brett tied off the sleeve as neatly as possible, careful not to stretch the material too much. If Guildias really would get that arm back, that sleeve needed to look decent.

"There you go. That better?"

Guildias: Where it seemed the elbow was shook back and forth to test. Acceptable.

"Thank you. Now, would you rather we go inside?"

Brett: Brett took a seat beside Guildias. "I'm okay to stay out here a bit while you finish your cigarette."

Guildias: "Kind as always." He knew the answer, but still offered the cigarette anyway.

Brett: He shook his head. “Someday maybe, but not today. Thanks though.”

Guildias: "How prepared are you for what's about to happen?"

Brett: “Not nearly enough.”

Guildias: "What is it you want to hear?"

Brett: “I don’t know. Part of me still thinks this is all a trick somehow.”

Guildias: "I've been in contact with him for some time. I would not lead you astray for cheap entertainment."

Brett: He nodded. “I know. I guess I just don’t trust him.”

Guildias: "Why would you? You haven't seen him."

Brett: “What if I’m still not able to after I do see him?”

Guildias: "Then you don't have to see him again. But you will have faced him."

Brett: Brett nodded again, taking a deep breath for good measure. "Conquer your demons and all that, right?"

Guildias: "Or leave them as tar on your body."

Brett: "I've got enough tar already. Don't want anymore."

Guildias: "Good man." The last of his cigarette depleted, Guildias forced himself to his feet.

"Shall we?"

Brett: He could feel the knots begin to form in his stomach as he stood. Every part of him wanted to get back in his car and race back home so he could hide under the covers, but his feet would carry him inside after his domitor.

MJ/Guildias: There was no concealing the sound of MJ's Harley. Its classic intention could be heard a quarter mile through the muffling trees. A sound which did nothing to spur Guildias from his languid arrangement on the stiff couch. Only in the silence of the engine did the Setite rise to his feet.

"Remain comfortable," was his only command as he approached the door.

Brett: It was like flipping a switch; or it would be, if Brett hadn't already been so nervous. First sign of that bike coming toward the house and the stress sweat started, the knots in his stomach tightened to the point of discomfort, fight or flight activated in every possible way.

If he spoke one of them would win out, so he just nodded. Never mind that comfortable was the farthest thing from what he was feeling right now. He just wanted it to be over. He wanted to have faced it without having to face it.

MJ/Guildias: Guildias greeted MJ at the door. He needn't explain. For this to be their meeting ground, MJ knew there were unspoken rules. Don't approach; be gentle with the ghoul. The look in the Setite's eyes told him to behave, and without prompt he nodded.

MJ's first thought upon laying eyes on the sheriff was that of a porcelain doll. Without smoothness and impossible complexion. Brett Parker was a delicate creature. His arms and chest had since filled and firmed. Everything else was distinctly the same. It was as though Guildias had done nothing but indulge the ghoul in vitae. His initial feeling was that of anger, but then like a slap remembered the deed which brought them here.

He decided upon a simple greeting, uttered softly, apologetic in inflection.

"Hey."

Brett: Brett didn't make eye-contact or get to his feet. Instead he picked a spot somewhere in the region of MJ's middle and gave a jerky nod in greeting and something that could reasonably pass for a smile.

"Hi." His voice had lost its ease in an effort to keep it from trembling. It was stiff, just like all the rest of him.

MJ/Guildias: MJ exchanged a glance with Guildias, looked to the emptiness of his sleeve and scoffed. The logical path to take was that of avoidance. For at least five minutes.

"Ya hear how that happened?"

Brett: He shook his head. "I didn't ask, I just tied."

MJ/Guildias: "Oh ya did that?"

"Is that a story you wish to hear?" Guildias asked.

Brett: He really, really doubted that a story that ended with Guildias losing an arm was something he wanted to hear, not even on a good day. But it was probably best to keep the conversation going, otherwise it would stall and the space would fill with tense silence and that was worse.

"Sure."

MJ/Guildias: MJ held his hands up in submission, then down slowly at his sides before taking a seat directly across. Guildias took to the arm of the couch by Parker's side. The Ravnos began to explain his visit, his friend Abel Harrington, and the idea to rescue a child they had suspicions had somehow fallen into through the Gauntlet into another realm. He then held both hands to Guildias.

"I couldn't go in. Had t'play security guard. But if ya ever saw Poltergeist ya got an idea of the goo they were covered in when they got out."

"The child is safe and healthy, according to news," said Guildias.

Brett: Brett had to fight to keep from leaning against Guildias for safety and comfort, but he appreciated his domitor’s nearness nonetheless. It was exactly the sort of thing Guildias would do.

At least the story provided plenty of distraction. There were parts of it—most of it— he could scarcely believe, things that sounded too fantastical to ever be real. He probably wouldn’t if he had any other job and didn’t watch TV.

“I remember hearing about that kid when he first went missing. Every law enforcement agency in the state got an alert. Glad he’s okay.”

MJ: "All in a night's work. Should give Guildias a superhero name. Somehow I've been dubbed Aquaman." He remembered giving Xavier his name, but couldn't for the unlife of him remember how he'd been worthy of his moniker. Something to ask when this was over; something to take his mind off of the meek look in the sheriff's eyes.

"M'sorry," he finally said.

Brett: After having braved enough to look at MJ’s chest, Brett seemed to lose his nerve and looked down at his hands instead. He had them clasped in his lap, knuckles white with the effort to keep them from shaking.

At a loss for a response, he remained silent.

MJ: "Ya don't have t'say anything. I know I fucked up. Ya looked at me like I was some... dangerous stranger. Thought if I could make ya laugh." He imitated a heartbeat. "N'then I had no thoughts. I know more shit happened, but I don't have it."

Brett: For a moment he swore he could smell lavender again. More than once a passing whiff of it had sent him into a panic, made him horribly ill. It was forever linked with that night in his mind. But apparently only in his.

“You don’t remember,” he said to the floor.

MJ: "I was two people. One that wanted t'love ya, the other wanted to... have ya."

Brett: “Which one is here?”

MJ: "Both."

Brett: “How?”

MJ: "Threat of death can do a hell of a lot. I became we became I." His hands came out then fell to his knees. "I keep tellin' people I'm not Victoria. I'm not MJ."

Brett: That didn't really answer his question, but he wasn't sure he really wanted an explanation. Some questions you just didn't want the answers to.

"Who are you?"

MJ: "I'm in this body, so you can still call me MJ, or Mayhew, or asshole. Whatever works."

Brett: "So you're still named MJ. Who are you. Why'd you send me that letter in the first place if you didn't even remember what you did?"

MJ: "Ya didn't deserve what happened. I know that much. Isn't that enough?"

Brett: "Would it be for you?"

MJ: "If it meant anything t'ya."

Brett: "And what is it that you want from me?"

MJ: "T'know you're okay."

Brett: "You sent me the letter weeks ago and I'm just now here with you. What does that tell you?"

MJ: "M'not askin' for forgiveness."

Brett: "It would be meaningless if you were."

MJ: "It'd be a child askin' forgiveness for the sins of the mother."

Brett: "It would be meaningless because you wouldn't know what you were asking forgiveness for."

MJ: He placed both fists together. Exactly.

Brett: Brett’s gaze fell to the floor.

So. This was it. This was as close to closure as he was ever going to get. He got to feel unclean for the rest of his life and have nightmares and panic attacks while the person who made him this way got...nothing. MJ got to be a whole new person, free of the burden of that night while Brett was left to shoulder it alone.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting or if he was really expecting anything. It wasn’t like he had any reason to. That night had broken him in a thousand different ways but he was fully aware that from a vampire’s perspective, the whole thing had been his fault. For refusing. For being difficult. For believing, just for a moment, that he was a person who had the luxury of saying no. Life had already taught him that that wasn’t a word he could say anymore. He was a ghoul.

And ghouls didn’t get to say no.

Brett sighed. “I don’t know what else to say.”

MJ: "Ya ain't - Ya don't have t'say anything else. I'm... I'm glad ya let this happen. Us," he motioned between them, "but this wasn't for me. If someone did what - I want ya t'feel... safe again? I had a whole speech planned out, but I can't. That shit feels empty."

Brett: He shook his head. “I don’t. Feel safe. Not anymore, not for months.” Despite his progress, he still had bad days. When those bad days were really bad, they led to bad weeks.

The scent of lavender or pumpkin, a stranger touching him in public, a nightmare, a shadow on the kitchen tile out of the corner of his eye, the sight of blood; it felt like anything was liable to set it off.

MJ: "What d'ya want me t'do, Brett?"

Brett: That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? What could MJ do that would change anything?

Brett sighed. “Unless you’ve got a time machine...nothing. This is for me to deal with.”

MJ: "I ain't got one of them. Don't think it'd do ya good." Without thinking, he rubbed the back of his head. A tingle there akin to an itch.

Brett: “Sure as hell wouldn’t hurt.”

MJ: "How long's it been? What ya do since then? Ya'd lose all that."

Brett: “That’s easy to say for someone with no memory,” Brett said to the floor.

MJ: "Yeah, but I still got people."

Brett: Good for you, he thought, sounding sarcastic even in his mind. Why was he still here? There was nothing more to say, and they'd established there was nothing more to do.

He'd done it, he'd faced his demons, and all he'd gotten was the knowledge that his demons had gotten off scot-free. It was, as he'd said, for him to deal with.

Away from here.

"I'd like to go home now," Brett said, turning his head toward Guildias but not looking at him. He felt...defeated. Sounded it, too.

MJ/Guildias: "No one here will stop you," Guildias said. This was all for Brett Parker's peace of mind. Face the fear, as he'd encouraged for months. This chapter had finally reached its end.

MJ nodded, felt the safest route was stillness. Let Brett command the room and leave at his own accord.

"If ya wanna talk, or need me t'do somethin', ya got my number."

Brett: Brett acknowledged both of them with a nod and got to his feet. He couldn’t conceive of a situation where he’d want to turn to MJ for a favor or sympathetic ear, not now. Perhaps not even in the near future. But he supposed the offer counted for something in some cosmic sense.

That was about as much graciousness as he could muster at the moment.

He gave a sedate farewell to his domitor, gave MJ a vague grunt of acknowledgement, and let himself out, giving the couch where MJ sat as wide a berth as he could without clinging to the wall.

He wasn’t up for company, didn’t want to bring this mood and this...this home to Bo. So he’d drive around until he could find someplace quiet to be with his thoughts where no one would talk to him.

[dfroza]

lost & found things

this is what we see in Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament book of Luke in chapter 15:

Jesus became increasingly popular among notorious sinners—tax collectors and other social outcasts. The Pharisees and religious scholars noticed this.

Pharisees and Religious Scholars: This man welcomes immoral people and enjoys their company over a meal!

Jesus (with another parable): Wouldn’t every single one of you, if you have 100 sheep and lose one, leave the 99 in their grazing lands and go out searching for the lost sheep until you find it? When you find the lost sheep, wouldn’t you hoist it up on your shoulders, feeling wonderful? And when you go home, wouldn’t you call together your friends and neighbors? Wouldn’t you say, “Come over and celebrate with me, because I’ve found my lost sheep”? This is how it is in heaven. They’re happier over one sinner who changes his way of life than they are over 99 good and just people who don’t need to change their ways of life.

Or imagine a woman who has 10 silver coins. She loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the whole house, and search diligently until that coin is found? And when she finds it, doesn’t she invite her friends and neighbors and say, “Celebrate with me! I’ve found that silver coin that I lost”? Can’t you understand? There is joy in the presence of all God’s messengers over even one sinner who changes his way of life.

Once there was this man who had two sons. One day the younger son came to his father and said, “Father, eventually I’m going to inherit my share of your estate. Rather than waiting until you die, I want you to give me my share now.” And so the father liquidated assets and divided them. A few days passed and this younger son gathered all his wealth and set off on a journey to a distant land. Once there he wasted everything he owned on wild living. He was broke, a terrible famine struck that land, and he felt desperately hungry and in need. He got a job with one of the locals, who sent him into the fields to feed the pigs. The young man felt so miserably hungry that he wished he could eat the slop the pigs were eating. Nobody gave him anything.

So he had this moment of self-reflection: “What am I doing here? Back home, my father’s hired servants have plenty of food. Why am I here starving to death? I’ll get up and return to my father, and I’ll say, ‘Father, I have done wrong—wrong against God and against you. I have forfeited any right to be treated like your son, but I’m wondering if you’d treat me as one of your hired servants?’” So he got up and returned to his father. The father looked off in the distance and saw the young man returning. He felt compassion for his son and ran out to him, enfolded him in an embrace, and kissed him.

The son said, “Father, I have done a terrible wrong in God’s sight and in your sight too. I have forfeited any right to be treated as your son.”

But the father turned to his servants and said, “Quick! Bring the best robe we have and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and shoes on his feet. Go get the fattest calf and butcher it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate because my son was dead and is alive again. He was lost and has been found.” So they had this huge party.

Now the man’s older son was still out in the fields working. He came home at the end of the day and heard music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. The servant said, “Your brother has returned, and your father has butchered the fattest calf to celebrate his safe return.”

The older brother got really angry and refused to come inside, so his father came out and pleaded with him to join the celebration. But he argued back, “Listen, all these years I’ve worked hard for you. I’ve never disobeyed one of your orders. But how many times have you even given me a little goat to roast for a party with my friends? Not once! This is not fair! So this son of yours comes, this wasteful delinquent who has spent your hard-earned wealth on loose women, and what do you do? You butcher the fattest calf from our herd!”

The father replied, “My son, you are always with me, and all I have is yours. Isn’t it right to join in the celebration and be happy? This is your brother we’re talking about. He was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found again!”

The Book of Luke, Chapter 15 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 23rd chapter of the book of Job:

Job confided to his friends.

Job: So once again you are telling me my complaint amounts to rebellion,

that the heavy hand I feel upon me is smothering my groans?

Would that I knew where to find Him.

I would appear before Him.

I would lay my case out before Him;

I would fill up my mouth with arguments.

And then I would finally learn how He would answer me,

and I would understand what He tells me.

Would He oppose me merely with His great power? Surely not!

Surely He would show me the respect of listening to my argument.

There, in that courtroom, a moral man might hope to reason with Him,

and I would escape my Judge forever.

Alas, wherever I go, ahead or behind,

He is not there;

I am unable to find Him.

When He works on either side of me, I still cannot see Him.

I catch no glimpse of Him.

But He knows the course I have traveled.

And I believe that were He to prove me,

I would come out purer than gold from the fire.

My foot has been securely set in His tracks;

I have kept to His course of life without swerving;

I have not departed from the commands of His lips;

I have valued everything He says more than all else.

He alone is one True God; who can alter Him?

Whatever He desires within Himself, He does.

For He will carry out exactly what He has planned for me,

and in the future there are more plans to come.

Therefore, I am deeply troubled before Him;

when I ponder it at any length, I am terrified of Him.

Yes, God has melted my courage,

and the Highest One has overwhelmed me with His terror.

He could have turned me aside when the darkness came,

but He did not cut me off.

Nor does He hide my face from the gloom that has now overtaken me.

The Book of Job, Chapter 23 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, April 30 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that looks into our “rest”

It is written in our Scriptures: "Commit your way to the LORD, trust also in Him, and he will bring it to pass" (Psalm 37:5). In this verse, the word translated "commit" comes from the Hebrew root galal (גלל), which could be rendered as "roll away" or "heap upon" (the word gal means a heap or pile of stones). The LORD spoke this word when He said to Joshua, "This day have I rolled away (galal) the reproach of Egypt from off you" (Josh. 5:9) and named the place "Gilgal" (גִּלְגָּל), a word-play meaning a wheel or "rolling away." In great mercy the LORD "rolls away" the reproach of our sin.

The word galal can also mean to trust or to commit, with the connotation of "rolling one's trouble" away from oneself upon someone else who can help. Thus the Messiah entrusted (galal) His suffering unto the LORD (Psalm 22:8), and we are likewise encouraged to "commit" (galal) our way to his loving will. When we trust in His love, when we "roll away" the burden of our lives to His care, our thoughts will be "established" and we can freely enjoy the confidence that God Himself is directing our way (Prov. 16:9, Psalm 37:23). We can then experience genuine rest and shalom, despite the tumult of the world and its tribulations.

As the Lord Yeshua cried out, "Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matt. 11:28), so may we come, rolling away our burdens unto Him, and having our way established in His shalom (1 Pet. 5:7; Psalm 55:22). Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

4.29.21 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

April 30, 2021

Jehovah

“And, Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the works of thine hands.” (Hebrews 1:10)

The primary name for God in Scripture is the majestic name Jehovah, occurring nearly 7,000 times. The early Jews were reluctant to use that name for fear of using it lightly (Exodus 20:7) and substituted the word Adonai (meaning Master or Lord) in its place. Our English versions have followed suit, using the term “Lord” for Jehovah (small or all caps to distinguish it from Adonai, or Lord). Thus, the name Jehovah appears only four times in the King James and causes us at times to miss the full impact of the passage.

This is especially true in the New Testament quotations from Old Testament passages that used the name “Jehovah” for which “Lord” has been substituted. Now in the English versions the name “Lord” appears. If “Jehovah” (i.e., deity) were read instead, much richer meaning would be gathered, and it would prove beyond a doubt the full deity of Christ. Consider two examples.

First, our text quotes from Psalm 102:25-27. The entire psalm consists of praise to Jehovah, and here in Hebrews it addresses the Son. If we read “thou, Jehovah, in the beginning hast laid the foundations of the earth” and realize that Jesus is the subject of the passage, we recognize that Jesus can be none other than the Creator God.

Also, in Matthew 3:3, where John the Baptist fulfilled his prophesied role by teaching “Prepare ye the way of the Lord,” quoting from Isaiah 40:3, we see Jesus equated with the Jehovah of the Old Testament, for Isaiah uses the term LORD, or Jehovah.

In these and many other examples, we see Christ as the Jehovah Jesus and that the Lord of the Old Testament is the Jesus of the New Testament. JDM

[pseudoneiiric]

meta post: lili and her gender

let me go on the record to say that i fucking love lilian eyler with my whole heart, like, i typed all this out and im so fucking emotional about her! in the past, i've written things about hello charlotte and how the lgbt representation is... lacking, let's call it, and i've also made a few headcanon posts here and there about lilian's transition and her relationship with gender. so i thought, you know, let's actually write a whole ass thing about it. so here it is.

content warnings: gender dysphoria, suicide attempts, homophobia/transphobia in the original source material

PART 1: ETHERANE'S BAD TAKES so... etherane did not handle lgbt stuff well, like, in the slightest. lili is canonically genderfluid, as seen in one of those little profile things that etherane drew that doesn't actually show up in any of the games. but her genderfluid identity isn't handled well at all in the actual source material. actually, in general, hello charlotte is pretty transphobic. to cite one example, there’s this journal entry in hello charlotte 3 talking about “defective” charlotte vessels, and one of the things that can make a charlotte vessel “defective” is for them to be born amab or intersex. this already has some really bad vibes, but then we remember also that one of the big functions of charlottes is apparently for them to be sexualized (yikes!!!!!) and so we also get this weird kind of like, “trans people aren’t hot” kind of take?

but anyway. when it comes to lilian specifically, she never actually states in canon that she’s genderfluid or otherwise trans, not even in the spinoff visual novel, which, by the way, would have been the perfect place to address her gender identity, and she consistently uses he/him pronouns. we don’t actually get to see any of her thought processes about her gender at all — like at this point, i can’t even say it’s a non-issue because that would imply that they even mentioned her gender in canon. the only time we can potentially extrapolate from canon that lili might not be cis is when anri mentions that charlotte is lili’s self-insert oc. that’s kind of heavy-handed with the whole “charlotte being the female name for charles”, but that’s another matter. the point is, with the lack of any canon basis that lilian’s even vaguely questioned her gender, the reveal that she’s actually genderfluid with like, two pieces of artwork that are detached from the actual game feels very pxrfxrmxtxvxly xnclxsxvx (performatively inclusive) especially considering how.... etherane talked about lilian’s gender in particular within the actual canon material.

after all, the story behind lilian is effectively that, after she was born, her mother was forced to abort her second child, a daughter that she would name scarlett. doing so plunged her into a really deep depression that eventually took on delusional qualities. so ever since lilian was about three years old, her mother has been referring to her exclusively as scarlett, asking her to ‘ be a good girl ’ and similarly raising her as a girl. we can see here that etherane seems to have implied that genderfluidity is something that happens because other people make it so, and isn’t an identity and lived experience. (bad take!) although, albeit unintentionally, i think etherane did lay some groundwork to talk about lilian’s relationship with her gender, specifically with regards to her projection onto her oc, charlotte. in high school, when she’s more active on the internet, we see that she’s going by charlotte and using she/her pronouns. anri, her irl friend, is pretty openly critical of that, but she sort of brushes off anri’s complaints and continues to present as feminine online. now, there’s this fanfic writer who goes by the pseudonym “c”, and lilian very quickly takes an interest in him. the way she talks to c, who doesn’t know her irl, compared anri, who does, is just like flat-out like they’re completely different people.

compare, her with c:

to her with anri:

i also wanted to mention that lili does occasionally act more “femininely” with anri, but it’s never to the extent that she does with c, and in general, affectionate banter is sort of... outright ridiculed in their friendship both ways. see this one exchange:

anri: >:) always up for some roasting lili: right? <3 <3 anri: now you’re the one being gross

unrelated but it fucking kills me that anri was like “ily <3” and lili went “gross” so she went “kys” and lili deadass goes “that’s better” like that’s what anri is referencing when she says “now you’re the one being gross” and im like... please just be healthy friends who don’t wish death on each other???

it’s also worth noting that c doesn’t know that she’s not “actually” a girl, and literally when they meet, she goes like, “it’s you who should be disappointed in me. charlotte turned out to be charles, whoops! i bet you were hoping that i’d be a cute girl.” and that’s... really depressing, like, she ended up really leaning into that cutesy side of her when she was talking to c and now she feels the need to be a lot more... sarcastic and bitter, like how she is with anri, because now c “knows the truth about her”, that she’s “actually been a guy all along”.

in any case, i think the intent that etherane was going for with this was kind of like... “lilian’s actually a repressed cis gay man!” which is . not great. it gives off this really gross vibes where it’s implied that since lili was raised as a girl and is into men, she got “confused” and started going by she/her online because she couldn’t come to terms with her sexuality or whatever. and that’s just such a bad take!!!

not to mention that a really important part of lili’s backstory is... her germaphobia. she has persistent delusions accompanied by visual hallucinations where she sees people as “parasites”, which visually manifests as them rotting or decomposing. because of that, she wears gloves all the time and is repulsed by physical touch. but when she meets c (whose real name is vincent) in person, she pretty much instantly goes for skin-to-skin contact with him, where she takes off her glove and holds his hand. and like, sure, that’s sweet, but that’s really not how mental illness... works. in the slightest. she doesn’t react at all when his hand touches hers, despite the fact that she has literally had panic attacks in canon from touching things without her gloves. and it gives off this implication that mental illness can be cured with romance somehow, and that’s a really bad take!

this feeds into fandom understanding that like, well, if lilian sees vincent as pure and allows him to touch her, then Obviously she’d let him kiss her, they could probably have sex, etc. and like... she’s canonically asexual though! and that brings us to the other implication, that asexuality is somehow... caused by something. like, there’s nothing in canon to state that lilian experiences sexual attraction (or even really romantic attraction, like i know etherane went off in heaven’s gate and did a lot of ship tease, but she never really outright says she’s crushing on anyone), but judging from the way etherane handled lilian’s gender identity, i have a sneaking suspicion that she established lilian’s asexuality with her mental illnesses specifically in mind. lilian’s autistic, germaphobic, has severe ocd, and she’s been sexually assaulted in the past. therefore, she must be asexual! that’s the sort of vibes i get from the game, and im not here for it. similarly to how her genderfluidity was handled, she makes no actual statement in canon that she doesn’t experience sexual attraction. the closest she’s ever come to this is when she says to anri in heaven’s gate that she is just straight up not interested in kissing (to which anri is like, “well what if it were vincent owo??” which. ugh. anyway). it just seems really strange to me to design a character with severe mental health issues with regards to physical touch and then just sort of treat it as a given that she’s asexual. it’s another example of etherane implying that lgbt identities are results of traumatic experiences or symptoms of mental illness and not an identity or lived experience. you can be sex-repulsed and not be asexual, and while i understand that many people do identify as ace due to trauma and other such things, it still feels like really bad rep when taken with the way lilian’s genderfluidity was portrayed.

PART 2: HOW “CHARLES” IS DIFFERENT FROM “LILIAN”

throughout hello charlotte, lilian identifies herself as a passive observer, someone who doesn’t directly interfere in events. this applies mostly to her existence in false realm, where she’s like... a god, and doesn’t want to interfere in the balance of the world. but i believe she also has always seen herself as an observer. in her very first scene, the one where she and anri are watching someone get bullied, she’s the one who tells anri that there’s no point in getting help. because her role is just to observe. to take pictures for anri, to be a good girl, to say yes to everything and to never express her opinions, feelings, thoughts.

and honestly, i think the main reason for that is that she’s dysphoric. whenever she talks about herself, she’s really self-deprecating, especially compared to when she talks about charlotte. i feel like the main reason why lilian detaches herself from the world and refuses to really perceive herself is because she’s fundamentally disgusted with her gender presentation. and like, we can see in the two times that she’s presented femininely (with c and in that one comic) that lili is just so much happier and more bubbly when she’s presenting as feminine. you can literally see her stop dissociating and becoming more present in the moment because she’s just. so much more comfortable in her skin. compare:

these pictures with this one:

it’s funny i was going to say that there is a picture where she’s presenting as masculine and actually smiles like a person, but guess what! she’s texting c! so she’s actually performing femininity!

but the point is, like... when she’s presenting as masculine, especially in the canon pictures rather than etherane’s art, she just doesn’t look... happy. and then we compare that to how much more present she seems when she’s presenting as feminine, and how much more comfortable she seems in being, like, happy! and cute! but there is a downside to this. and that is...

PART 3: DIFFICULTIES IN LILI’S TRANSITION

in my sort of... “main verse” for lili, i have it so that her suicide attempt failed and that she was somehow... saved from drowning. mother passes away and she starts to... soul search a little bit and find a reason to live, and somewhere along the line she starts to transition socially. that means she starts transitioning at a pretty... extremely vulnerable point in her life. in the year between 18-19 years old, she’d be a wreck. she’s growing her hair out, but she feels insecure about it. she starts to wear skirts, but only at home. she buys makeup and never wears it. it’s a long process for her, because it’s one thing to go by she/her online or to claim she’s just a gender-confused gay boy and a completely different thing to come out as a trans woman and to actually see herself as a woman and not some kind of imposter. considering that she was raised as a girl, she would have a large amount of guilt over transitioning, feeling like she’s going to be seen as confused, or that her gender identity is a direct result of her childhood trauma. but she’s not just worried that others will see her that way: she’s worried that she’s going to see herself that way.

and for a long time, she probably does see herself that way. for a long time, scarlett would probably treat her transition as some kind of attempt to personify her unborn sister and comply with perceived expectations rather than an attempt to feel comfortable in her own skin. she’d get nervous that she’s somehow becoming scarlett, because though she’s always thought it would be easier if she’d just been her sister, she’s never really wanted to be scarlett. she’d be scared to wear mid-length skirts, scared to put her hair up in a bun, probably even scared to wear red for a time, all because she’s scared of somehow losing herself and becoming her alter.

because of her caution and concern with identifying as a trans woman and not as the “safer“ gender identity of genderfluidity (where she can say she’s trans but never actually have to “push boundaries” by wearing feminine clothing or using any pronouns besides he/him), it would likely take her a very long time to take the step to medically transition. she’d likely never get any gender affirmation surgeries just because of how invasive the procedure is, but hormones would probably be something she’d look into once she’s much older and has a more stable income.

i mentioned before that before her transition, she uses dissociation and observation as a way to cope with her gender dysphoria. she saw herself as someone who didn’t really participate in the world, was a class ghost, invisible to everyone and a minuscule part of a vast universe. but upon transitioning, she’d feel much more actively self-conscious. once she starts to present in a feminine way, she’d feel like she’s being seen, like she’s actually participating in the world, and that’s both a blessing and a curse.

she’d be much more prone to stammering, especially when saying her name, and would blush far more often. she’d be afraid of saying the wrong thing or messing up somehow. and on top of that, she’d likely feel predatory for talking to others, always wondering if others find her cute or repulsive, always wondering if someone will perceive her and harm her in some way.

she’d very likely also feel really guilty about her own emotional experience. because she’s so used to being a passive observer, a puppet that only does what others want, she would feel like it’s selfish to be just... content. she’s so actively disgusted with herself before she transitions that she’s never allowed herself to be mentally present for a happy moment in her entire life. she always second-guesses, always dismisses positive things as a mere coincidence, and after she transitions, when she starts being more present in her life, she’d feel so guilty for just allowing herself to be happy.

because of that, she has some trouble with presenting as feminine consistently — she’d vary the “level” of her feminine presentation from day-to-day, where she might go full femme one day and another day stick with a beanie and a pair of slacks. she’s much more comfortable with presenting as more traditionally feminine when she’s at home or with trusted friends in a private space, but around 19 years old, she makes a vested effort to remain in public spaces. she’d time herself, saying, “for one hour, i’ll stay in this café while wearing a skirt, and then i can leave,” and she’d gradually increase the amount of time she spends in public spaces. and eventually, eventually she does end up feeling really comfortable with her gender presentation and falls into a more static sense of style. she really likes clothing design, so she ends up wearing a lot more dynamic outfits when she’s more comfortable with herself, and she probably also mildly gets into cosplay.

i also like to think that she reconnects with anri during her young adult years. either it’s like, right after her suicide attempt (i’ve written before that she’d had anri listed as her emergency contact and forgot to change it when she moved), or it’s at some point after she starts transitioning socially. i think it’d be really sweet for them to be friends in a more real way, and the sheer concept of anri teaching lili how to properly apply makeup and to set her hair is just so fucking sweet i might die. they both deserve to have friends so i think this is just a step up from hello charlotte canon.

[gumnut-logic]

The Proof is in the Jello

Title: The Proof is in the Jello

Author: Gumnut

30 Jun 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Call it what you want, but I’m not going to let you rot in that room.”

Word count: 3449

Spoilers & warnings: SPOILERS FOR 3.16, episode tag.

Timeline: During and after the episode.

Author’s note: I had a great deal of fun with this. Be warned :D I hope you enjoy it. Many thanks to all of you who support my writing. This is a fantastic fandom ::hugs to you all::

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“Gordon, family movie!”

Alan knocked on his brother’s bedroom door. “Scott managed to get that one you were hanging out for.”

He waited a moment, but as he expected, but hoped wouldn’t be the case, he received no answer.

‘C’mon, bro, we haven’t been all together for days now. Scott made his popcorn just for you.” If his tone was drifting towards pleading he wasn’t ashamed of it. Gordon was worrying him.

Since Penny left the Island, his brother had retreated. In pain, lacking mobility and, most of all, no way to jump in the pool, his usual de-stress mechanisms blocked, Gordon had slowly slipped backwards.

He was healing physically. Virgil monitored him regularly, and Scott was his usual worry wart self, even John was hovering, literally. They all made a point of keeping Gordon company and drawing him into Island life. But Gordon had started resisting, preferring to hide in his room. Alan was worried.

They were all worried.

Hence the family movie.

“Gordon, please.”

Still no answer.

Alan’s lips thinned. Screw this.

Punching his override code into the door’s locking mechanism, he forced it to open.

The room beyond was in darkness, all the blinds drawn. A shadowy lump on the bed was the only indication that his brother was even there. “Gordon?”

No response.

Gordon was like a plant. He needed sunlight. This was just wrong.

“Are you awake?”

“Go away.”

Well, at least that was a response.

“You coming down for the movie?”

A sigh emerged from the darkness. “Don’t feel like it, Allie. ‘M tired.”

“You’ve been in here for hours.”

“I’m sick, haven’t you noticed?”

“You’re getting better! Virgil was very happy with your exercises yesterday.”

“Allie, just...not now.”

Alan swallowed. It hurt to see his brother like this. Gordon was the ray of sunshine. It was like he absorbed the sun he needed and shone the rest on his family.

Biting his lip, Alan strode into the room and shoved up the blinds one after the other.

“Argh, Alan, what the hell?!”

“You need to get up. Lying in here alone will rot your brain.”

“Alan, don’t, I...god, just don’t.” His brother was struggling to sit up in bed, eyes squinting against the light. A gulp of air and he sneezed. “Aaah, shit.” A groan as his one good arm wrapped around his ribs.

Alan’s eyes widened. “Oh, hell, Gordy, I’m sorry!” He hurried over and helped his brother sit up. Gordon stifled another sneeze, likely brought on by the sudden bright sunlight, and once upright, hunched over on the bed.

“Alan...” It came out husky and annoyed. “I know what you’re trying to do, I just need a bit of time to myself.” Another groan and he tipped sideways.

Alan grabbed him and shoved a pillow in the right place to keep him stable. “I’m worried about you. Depression after this kind of injury is a nasty thing.”

“Yeah, well, I just need to work this out for myself.”

“This isn’t like you.”

Gordon’s head came up and he glared. “Really? Funny about that. The whole broken body thing isn’t really my thing either.” His shoulders slumped.

Alan’s brow crinkled and without thought, he dropped down on the bed beside his brother and wrapped his arms around him. “Gordy, we’re all here.”

Gordon tensed a moment, but then, as if all his strings had been cut, he slumped against Alan, his forehead resting awkwardly against his little brother’s.

Whispered. “I know.” An arm crept around Alan’s waist and for a moment they just sat there.

Quiet. “Join us? Please, bro?”

A sigh. “Okay.” Gordon struggled to straighten, his eyes blinking slowly.

A bitten lip and Alan stabilised the injured man enough to let go and grab the hoverchair. Much grunting and a painful gasp or two and Gordon was mobile, his leg sticking out at an awkward angle.

Just in time to be interrupted by John. “The movie has been postponed. Sorry, guys. Scott’s needed.”

“What?!” Alan glared at his brother’s hologram. His timing couldn’t have been worse.

“Sorry, Alan. Maybe later tonight?”

“You gonna come down this time?” Okay, so it was an angry glare he was sending at his brother, but John hadn’t been down for a week.

Turquoise eyes widened at him, darting towards Gordon and back. “Sure, Allie. As soon as Scott’s back.”

“Be there.”

Those eyes widened even more. “FAB.” His hologram blinked out.

“Well, there goes that idea.” Gordon sounded both defeated and pleased at the same time. He shifted the ‘chair closer to the bed, his intentions obvious.

“Hey, no, you don’t. You and I are going for a walk.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Alan grabbed the chair and spun it around. “No, I’m speaking for the both of us. Scott may be busy, but I’m here, Virgil’s still here somewhere and Grandma.”

“Alan-“

“Shut up, Gordon.” He gave the ‘chair a shove towards the door and pushed his brother out into the corridor.

“Alan!”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” He slammed the door closed behind him and pushed his pyjama-clad brother into the elevator, through the comms room, kitchen and out onto the pool deck. The sun hit both of them with all its startling warmth.

Gordon closed his eyes, his face tilting just a little in the direction of the light.

Working himself into a regular pace, Alan pushed the chair off the deck and onto one of the well beaten paths around the Island. This one headed in the direction of Thunderbird Two’s runway.

“You do know that once I’m better, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Get better and you can give it a go.”

“I’m okay, Allie.”

“No, you’re not. I know you better than I know myself, Gordon, and this is not okay.”

“I just wanted some time to myself.”

“You’ve had it. Family time due.”

“What? I’m rationed?”

“Call it what you want, but I’m not going to let you rot in that room.”

“Allie, I’m-“

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of being told to shut up.”

“Stop talking stupid then.”

His brother scoffed, but said nothing more. Their walk wound around the caldera. Alan took it slow, knowing his brother needed the sun and the time far more than speed. The waves at the bottom of the cliff kept them company along with the stray gulls from the colony on Mateo.

Conversation was non-existent. Alan didn’t know whether it was because his brother was pissed at him or just didn’t feel like talking. In any case, it was a beautiful day and even Alan found himself enjoying the scenery.

Just as they hit the treeline of the runway, John broke in on comms. “Alan and Gordon, you might want to take a step back. Thunderbird Two is on launch prep.”

“What? Why?” Alan beat his brother to the question.

“Scott needs assistance.” A pause. “You might want to head back and prep a couple of tubs of D-tam gel.”

“D-tam gel? Is Scott okay?”

“He’s fine.” The cliff rumbled as it opened. Both brothers stared up at it. This wasn’t their usual viewpoint. “Just needs a little help getting out of a nuclear facility. Prep the D-tam just in case.”

“FAB.” His voice was a little faint and he doubted John had heard him above the roar of Thunderbird Two coasting out of her mountain.

Alan edged the hoverchair backwards as far as he could towards the cliff. This was going to be loud and blustery.

“What are you guys doing out here?” Virgil’s voice on comms.

“Apparently watching your show.” The familiar spark in Gordon’s voice lifted Alan’s heart.

“Well, don’t get too close. Roasted brother smells bad.”

Gordon snorted. “You’d know, Brother of the Burnt Eyebrows.”

A grunt over the comms. “Last time I ever listen to you regarding fuel levels.”

“That’s right, blame the younger brother.” Thunderbird Two slid onto her ramp and the ground shuddered as the plane was lifted into her launch position.

“I blame those responsible, Gordo.” A pause. “Fingers in your ears, bros.”

Alan didn’t hesitate and neither did Gordon. They looked stupid, but experience was a wonderful thing.

The ground shook as Virgil fired TB2’s rear thrusters and a shockwave of sound blasted over them, the great cargo plane clawing into the sky. The shockwave was followed by her backwash and both brothers had their hair tossed about. Alan grabbed the hoverchair, slamming on its brakes as he leant into the wind.

“That...never fails to impress.” Gordon eyes followed his brother’s ‘bird into the sky.

Alan snorted. “Three kicks more ass.”

“Because she has an ass for a pilot.”

“Hey!”

“C’mon, Allie, we need to get back to the villa. D-tam time.”

Alan swallowed. Radiation was a bitch. He had to tackle enough of it in space, but nuclear facilities were dirty and nasty.

“They’ll be okay.” Gordon was eyeing him.

Alan sighed. “They better be.”

-o-o-o-

It seemed like forever before Thunderbird One returned to her hanger. The moment she slid into her gantry, Brains instigated a full decontamination of the craft. Beneath the pool specially designed machinery sprayed TB1 with a combination of chemicals that both washed any radioactive particles off her hull and neutralised and collected the tiny amount of waste created. It wasn’t a perfect solution. If it was, hulks like that power station would no longer exist, but it prevented the Island from picking up radioactive dust.

Scott knew what he was in for. The sight of that radiation gauge slipping into the red had alarmed him far more than he’d ever let show. TB1 would have to be scrubbed inside and out. Fortunately, much of the process was automated. But there would still be some he would have to do himself.

Once he was clean.

“Scott, the d-decontamination shower is r-ready.”

Yay. “Thanks, Brains.”

“Alan and Gordon will meet you in the infirmary.”

More fun.

“FAB.”

One, finished with the first stage of her decontamination process, shifted and started her journey down to her hangar. “Oh, Brains, we’ll need decontamination protocol for Two, module two and the Mole.”

“V-Virgil has ad-vised.”

Of course.

It was a blur of mechanics and chemicals for the next twenty minutes. A robot removed his orange uniform and likely destroyed it in a way only angry chemicals could. Other stinky chemicals washed everything from his body in a similar way to how One had been washed clean.

From there, in little more than a fresh towel, he made his way up into the villa and the vat of orange goo in his near future.

What was it with orange and radiation?

The roar of Thunderbird Two’s engines heralded his brother’s entry into the anti-radiation rally. No doubt Virgil would be joining him shortly.

Entering the infirmary stopped all thought.

As expected, two D-tam baths had been set up, full of the orange goop that would help counteract and repair any issues caused by his exposure to radiation. The appropriate IVs hung above the two tubs.

What stopped him in his tracks was the sight of his two little brothers covered from head to toe in that same orange gel.

That and the gel on the floor, ceiling and three of the walls.

“What the hell?”

Alan stared at him. He was mid-throw, a handful of orange gel his projectile. Gordon was sitting in his hoverchair, an equally stunned and guilty expression on his face. There was gel in his hair, on his face, his clothes and the various medical paraphernalia supporting his injured body.

“Hi, Scott.” Gordon’s face split into a grin.

“What do you think you are doing?” He didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or explode.

“Alan calls it jello therapy.”

“I did not.”

“Did, too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Not!”

“Too!”

“Stop it!” Explode was fast becoming the winning option.

The room fell silent.

A splat as a glob of orange goop slid out of Alan’s hand and hit the floor.

Scott just stared, eyes moving slowly back and forth between his two brothers. It took a moment, but he slowly began to realise there was something more than a simple prank involved. Alan’s eyes were glistening. Gordon’s grin was just that touch forced.

Gordon.

His injured brother who he had been desperately trying to drag out of his room the last few days. The brother whose name Virgil had put in a sentence with the word ‘depression’. The brother he was ever so worried about.

Was covered in orange goo and grinning.

However fragile that grin was, it was something to grab a hold of and celebrate.

Something in his heart lurched.

And yes, that was a tear glistening in Alan’s eye.

Aw, hell.

A moment.

A pause.

Securing the towel tightly around his waist, Scott bent at the knees and casually picked up a random glob of orange D-tam gel. He stared at it in his hand. It was harmless. It was even edible, though rather revolting in taste. It had its purpose and it did it well.

Two brothers were staring at him.

He eyed them back, a small smile curving his lips.

Gordon realised what was going to happen a microsecond before it did, but that didn’t stop the orange glob from landing on his forehead.

“Aw, you rat!”

Retaliation was immediate.

Scott ducked as his little brother lobbed gel at his head and grabbed another handful of his own. This time Alan went down with it in his hair.

“Oh, you are so dead, big bro.”

It went downhill from there.

-o-o-o-

Virgil hated decontamination with a passion. The whole chemical thing stunk and the sonic clean grated his bones and shook his teeth. Scott thought he was making it up, but he really could sense those subsonics and he didn’t care what the laws of physics said. He could feel them and they set him on edge.

At least that part was over. Stalking through the villa in only a towel, the air cooling the water left on his skin, he smiled at Grandma as he encountered her in the hallway.

She smiled up at him and patted his shoulder but didn’t say anything, walking off without a word.

He frowned, but headed onto the infirmary.

Oddly the door was shut.

He knocked. “Scott? Okay to come in.”

“Sure!” A muffled sound he couldn’t quite identify followed that.

He opened the door.

Something wet and sloppy hit him in the face.

What the-?!

He dropped the towel and wiped the gunk out of his eyes.

“Whoa, ho, a little too much for the eyes there, bro!” Gordon?

He blinked a little clarity and found three of his brothers coated head to toe in orange D-tam gel, along with the room, including the ceiling.

His mouth fell open, but he was denied the ability to speak.

“Twenty bucks says I can get some in his mouth, first shot.” Alan.

Virgil shut his mouth abruptly.

“Nah, draw a smilie face on his chest.” Gordon was grinning like a maniac. His hoverchair was still operating despite the deluge of orange goop it appeared to be carrying along with him.

But it was Scott who gobsmacked him the most. His big brother was still only wearing a towel, a no longer white towel, and it was he who shouted. “Okay!” And lobbed a series of well-aimed goop balls directly at Virgil’s chest.

Virgil was still so stunned, an orange smilie face did appear quite quickly amongst his chest hair before he gathered enough sense to move.

“What the hell are you guys doing?!” He dove behind one of the baths. This did not stop another glob of gel landing in his hair.

“It’s a jello war, Virg!” Gordon lobbed another volley at him and it splatted all over the wall behind the tub.

“What? Why?!”

“Because it is fun!” Alan was cackling and manoeuvring into a position that exposed Virgil to further attack.

“Virg, you may want your towel.” Scott had it in his hand and chucked it at him. Of course, the towel landed on Virgil’s head. He fumbled with it and hurriedly wrapped it around his waist. There were certain body parts that just didn’t need to be in the line of fire.

A series of splats hit above his head rapid fire and it only took another one catching in his hair for him to finally decide to retaliate. “You are going to regret this.”

“Is that a threat, grumpy bear?” Gordon knew just how to rile him up just that little bit more.

“No threat needed, fishhead, only promises.” With that he reached into the tub and with his two massive hands, scooped up an enormous lump of orange goop. Standing, he shook off the immediate pummel of jello projectiles and stalked over to his injured little brother.

Gordon’s eyes widened as he approached and he stabbed at the hoverchair’s controls.

He didn’t move fast enough.

Virgil dumped the gel on Gordon’s head.

It clogged in his hair, ran down his cheeks and dripped onto his shoulders.

A stunned moment as he stared up at Virgil, and then he was laughing. Gordon laughed so hard he hurt himself and had to groan through happy tears.

Virgil’s grin tried to split his face in half. When Gordon groaned, still laughing, he knelt down to support him, immediately worried he had hurt his little brother.

His reward was orange goo smeared into his hair.

The glint in Gordon’s eye was a wonder to behold.

More goop flew through the air and hit him in the side of the head, his back and shoulder.

Still grinning, Virgil flicked a glob onto Gordon’s nose.

That glint fired up.

Virgil ducked.

-o-o-o-

It was sometime later, after both Scott and Virgil had soaked in the D-tam and received the necessary IV solution to negate any possible effects from the exposure they had both received, that the four tired but happy brothers gathered in the comms room.

Alan sat with Gordon, his brother’s healing leg draped across his thighs. All of them were sporting wet hair fresh from the showers. Virgil’s was falling in his eyes due to an unusual lack of product and he was lounging at a lazy angle on the sofa across from Alan, bare chest loosely wrapped in his unbuttoned flannel shirt, a pair of striped pyjama pants his only other item of clothing. Scott was similarly casual, though his shirt was buttoned up. Alan, himself, was head to toe pyjamas with bare feet. All three of them had helped Gordon get cleaned up after their little war and Gordon was in his bedwear as well.

Virgil had ventured into the kitchen and had come out with pizza and popcorn. Something passed between their eldest brothers as Virgil handed the popcorn to Scott. Alan had no idea what that glare was about.

But now they were just waiting for one other brother who better get his ass down here.

As if on demand, John walked into the room in his usual casual pants and shirt. His eyes hit the tableau of sloppy dress and an eyebrow rose. “Pajama party?”

Scott smiled up at him. “You bet. Here for the pizza?”

John grinned. “I hear the popcorn is worth a steal.”

Virgil glared at him. “Have a seat.”

Scott hit the lights and the room darkened to starlight. A flick of a button and the holoprojector lit up with the movie.

What followed was a good story, good food and good company. Alan soaked it all in, watching his brothers comment on the film. He grinned and cracked up laughing when Scott of all people shoved a small glob of D-tam gel down the back of John’s shirt. The astronaut was not impressed in the slightest. Scott claimed it was so he didn’t feel left out.

John promised to hack Scott’s phone and fill it full of porn.

Gordon asked John if he could have some, too.

Virgil threw a pillow at his head.

That prompted a short and nasty pillow fight that ended up with popcorn on the floor.

Virgil was assigned to obtain more. The movie had to be rewound.

Alan just grinned and enjoyed the show.

“I love you guys.” It was quiet, soft. It came from Gordon.

The room froze.

Some monster wandered across the holoprojector but no-one noticed.

“Gordon?” Scott’s voice was hesitant.

Alan gripped his brother’s leg just that little bit tighter and the aquanaut’s gaze turned to him.

Something was glistening in Gordon’s eyes. “Thanks.”

Something similar rose in Alan’s throat and choked him a little. “Anytime, bro.”

“Anytime.”

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[incorrectdevilsurvivorquotes]

Ask for Yamato! Lol I really want to know this one XD

YOU GUYS ARE OPENING PANDORAS BOX WITH THIS ONE I HOPE YOU ARE READY

THE BIG MAN YAMMY HIMSELF CHIEF HOT-SUIN

First impression: Ah so this is the leader of all the piss yellow fashion disasters running around Tokyo. Why does he get to look like a sleek white haired anime pretty boy when they all look like that???

Impression Now: I. LOVE. HIM!!!!! He’s one of my favorite characters, though I am trying my best to keep my bias at bay for you guys. This will not become Incorrect-Yamato-Hotsuin-quotes if I can help it. He’s such an interesting mix of stubbornness, dedication, naivety (on some topics), anger,and confidence. I enjoy his refusal to allow the world, he’s forced to sacrifice himself for, to be anything less than perfect. It’s interesting to dive into how much of Yamato’s personality stems from his isolation both from his upbringing and his excellence. He comes off as dreadfully lonely in a way. From his inability to connect to others, to being confused by the concept of friends, to his quick attachment to Hibiki the moment he believes there could be a relationship there. I can’t help but want to help that. (I could ramble forever about him but I already know I’m going to be rambling in the rest of this.)

Favorite Moment: There are so many. From the takoyaki scene, to “at last you yearn for me as I yearned for you,” to the declaration of sworn friendship in the Triangulum arc, to Miyako roasting THE SHIT out of him. They’re all good but Strong Breaker hit me the hardest. (Well tied with The Takoyaki Scene cause that was cute as all hell. Like this serious government leader that could kill you with a snap of his fingers is literally shoving his face with junk food like a child. That was so surprisingly cute.) Strong Breaker I think really gets to the heart of Yamato’s loneliness. It’s such a clear portrayal of his desperation to keep the only person who’s ever connected with him, his stubborn refusal to yield to anyone, and in part his isolation as he refuses to even acknowledge the rest of the cast as worthy of speaking with him. While that’s definitely Yamato at his worst, it’s a nice look into his character that I can’t help but appreciate. And when he asked if his “personality was what drove” Hibiki away my heart broke a bit. It was a stunning moment of self deprecation from a man who up until that point seemed extremely self assured. To see Yamato brought to a point where he’s blaming everything, including himself for Hibiki leaving because he can’t believe Hibiki wouldn’t want to be at his side, hurts. Where The takoyaki Scene and Roadtrip promise are sweet reassurances of friendship, Strong Breaker is such a wrought and painful scene with the kind of drama I’d love to explore. (Honestly both sides must be really conflicted during that fight, I can’t imagine Hibiki, especially one who’s pursued Yamato’s fate events, would want to fight Yamato, but his friends safety comes first. And Yamato as stated is a wreck. I’d love to see a fic exploring both their perspectives during that scene)

Story idea: I really want to write a fic set a few years after the Admin Hibiki ending, where Canopus rejects the concept of a human Administrator after it eventually reboots. Reading it as an error in the system. This leads to Hibiki having to flee from the Akashic stratum into hiding, and the world to fall into another apocalypse. Alcor contacts the past survivors who have no memory of Hibiki, to help him solve this Crisis and find their lost Administrator. The fic would follow the alternating perspectives of Yamato and Daichi as they slowly regain memories of the previous Worlds and Hibiki, as they both have to work together to track Hibiki down as the others are holding off Canopus and working damage control. Tensions run high due to the situation, and both of their mixed feelings about Hibiki’s choice.

Unpopular Opinion: I’m never really sure if Yamato is a fan favorite or a divisive character in the fandom, especially now that it’s shrunk. I can see where he’d definitely put off a lot of people, he is an ass a lot. So potentially even liking Yamato?

Another one would be, I definitely don’t believe he as extremely controlling as some people portray him as. I lay 90% of the blame of that take on the anime who made him into some ooc power hungry puppet master, but Game Yamato is very intent on allowing you and your group choice and is impressed with people who choose to better themselves. He allows the group to investigate into JPs with little issue, and let’s people form opposing factions without complaint. He’s not like Anime Yamato who refuses anything outside his plans and opinions, and he certainly wouldn’t restrain Hibiki from making choices since he views him as an equal. I mean the man let Hibiki become a god, even after he spent an entire game just trying to make sure Hibiki could be back with them again. If he let Hibiki make that choice despite his wishes, he’s not going to restrict Hibiki very much at all.

Favorite Relationship: Yamato and Hibiki, no surprises there. Hibiki definitely brings out the best in Yamato, and I’m a huge sucker for relationships where one character restores another’s faith in the world and that’s these two in a nutshell. The way that Hibiki invites Yamato into the real world and allows him to see the good and the bad, ultimately changes Yamato into a better person and I enjoyed seeing that process. To see Yamato slowly unravel from his isolated shell to the point where he can accept and wants to explore the world he used to condemn, is astonishing. Hibiki allows Yamato to no longer be alone and just honestly makes his life better. In turn he provides Hibiki with anything he can, praise, opportunities, rewards, and staggering amount of trust. I mean, Yamato straight up wrote himself out of existence for Hibiki. That’s devotion right there! It’s a very sweet friendship/relationship that is very nicely summed up in the line “I’ll show you.” They both want to be able to see what the world has to offer together, and with the Record Breaker ending they finally can.

Favorite Headcanon: I like to think the dragon stream has leaves an invisible dragonlike seal on its current wielder that envelopes most of the users body. Like a tattoo of sorts, with it only becoming visible in times of extreme use of the dragon stream.

(A joke Headcanon is that Yamato is baffled by but supports the story of Legally blonde and Hamilton. Because both are stories of people working their way to excellence by their own hard work despite adversity, hardship, and a system working against them. Its exactly his kind of content if he wasn’t confused by the purpose of musicals)

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

Thanks for all your feedback on the first chapter. I loved reading it all! I hope you enjoy the second chapter.

Once again thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta

Chapter 2 : A Recreational Activity (well, a few)

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.  -Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

Jamie groaned and hoped that the banging inside his head would stop soon. This was the problem with drinking wine. Generally Jamie tried to steer clear of ‘grape’ and stick to ‘grain’. However, last night, he had supped copious quantities of both and now was suffering the consequences. He stretched his hand out hoping to find a glass of water and possibly even two aspirins left on the bedside table by his more responsible alter ego yesterday. There they were. Gratefully, he sank back onto the pillows and waited for them to do their work.  

Parts of his alcohol-induced dreams came back to him… miles and miles of hotel corridors and he was chasing, chasing... a woman with the most gorgeous legs he had ever seen. He kept chasing her, but she wouldn’t stop and she wouldn’t turn round. A flash of wild dark curls and…

The banging in his head seemed to be louder now. “Unca,” a cross little voice added to the general cacophony. “Unca, get up now. Mam says now. ‘Tis beckfast and then ‘wimmin’. Mam says.”

Jamie forced himself out of bed. Fastening the towelling bath robe, he opened his door. His little nephew rushed past him and started jumping on the bed. Jenny stood in the doorway, her eyes darting all round the room.

“I go ‘wimmin’ with ye, Unca, wiv Spideyman shorts. What ye shorts, Unca?”

Jamie sighed and looked at his sister. “She’s no’ here. She didna stay. Nothing happened.” He grabbed Wee Jamie round his middle, lifting him high up in the air. “And who said I would take ye swimmin’, ye wee fishie?”

“Mam said so, she did.”

Jamie gently set his nephew on his feet. “Aye, well, yer mam makes an awfa’ lot o’ decisions fer the men in this family. But I guess I canna refuse, no’ if I ken what’s good fer me.”

**************

Claire lay on one of the day beds next to the swimming pool and wiggled her toes, admiring the newly applied scarlet polish. She set aside the copy of Hello! she had been skimming through and turned to Geillis.

“This was such a good idea of yours, G. Total battery recharge today… and we’ve even had the whole pool to ourselves. I don’t reckon we’ll be seeing any of that wedding party any time soon. Not if last night was anything to go by.”

“I am rather full of brilliant ideas,” Geillis agreed. “Although I feel we may have missed an opportunity last night. So many men...”

“... And no doubt so many wives and girlfriends!” Claire interrupted.

“Och, well,” Geillis dismissed Claire’s interruption. “Guess we’ll never know.”

“Anyway, so I’ve a body wrap, then hot stone massage in twenty minutes. I’m going to head into the sauna for ten minutes first. You coming?”

“Aye, may as weel. I don’t reckon there’ll be anything worth hangin’ round here fer today.” Geillis gathered up her belongings and followed Claire into the sauna.

**************

Jamie sat in the male changing room, blowing up his nephew’s armbands (Spider-Man, obviously a theme here) while Wee Jamie hopped excitedly from foot to foot.

“Now, afore we go in the pool, are ye sure you dinna need a wee? Ye ken what I told ye, as how if ye wee in the pool, the water turns bright blue?”

“Nah, Unca, c’mon now. Wanna go ‘wimmin’.” The little lad pulled his armbands up, grabbed Jamie’s hand and headed for the door. “C’mon, c’mon.” He paused and stared intently at his uncle. “Ye no Spideyman shorts?”

Jamie looked down at his blue checked board shorts and tried to look sad about this. “Sorry lad, I’m too big fer such a fine pair.”

As they entered the pool area together, Jamie looked around. It was totally deserted, which, Jamie thought, was hardly surprising based on the amount of alcohol that had been consumed the day before. An abandoned magazine lay on one of the day beds.

Wee Jamie pointed to a small passage way on the other side of the pool. “What’s ‘at?”

“Ah, nothing for ye. Just the sauna... it’s awfa hot and no’ fer children and the girls’ changing room is down there too. That’s definitely no’ fer us lads, eh?”

Following Jenny’s instructions to “wear the lad out, we want him tae sleep in the car going home,” Jamie stayed in the pool, playing with his nephew until he noticed the lad’s eyelids start to droop. He scooped him up and carried him back to the changing room, intending to just wrap him in a towel and leave the tricky drying and dressing to Jenny.

Wee Jamie held tightly to his uncle’s neck. “You fib, Unca. Ye did. I wee’d and I wee’d but no blue.”

Jamie chuckled. God, he loved this little lad something fierce and maybe someday, God willing...

**************

Claire picked up the two whiskies from the bar and made her way to the table where Geillis was sitting. The pub was quite empty at the moment, just a handful of people, like them, having a quick drink after work before heading home.

Geillis looked Claire up and down appraisingly. “Ye ken I love ye, Claire, but could you no’ wear something a bit, weel, more alluring when we’re out?”

Claire gazed down at her old jeans and plain black tee shirt. “G, I’ve been on my feet in theatre for the past 8 hours. I’m so knackered, you’re lucky I managed to change out of my scrubs and into this! Besides, however can I compete with your alllllluuure?”  She drawled the last word out jokingly. “Maybe you have the allure for both of us? I can be your duff.”

Geillis raised a quizzical eyebrow.  

“Designated ugly fat friend.” Claire explained with a smile. “According to the movie, every friendship group has one. You and me, we’re a friendship group, ergo, I must be it.”

“Claire, ye may be many things but fat or ugly never.” Geillis said, “Yer hair’s a wee bit wild, mind. Do ye no’ fancy a Brazilian blow dry?” She ran her fingers over her sleek strawberry blonde locks.

“And here’s me thinking a ‘brazilian’ was about a different part of my anatomy altogether!”

Geillis smiled, then a serious expression crept over her face. “But, Claire, ye dinna think ye’re fat or ugly really, do ye?”

Claire stared at the beer mat on the table, her fingers picking at it, ripping it into tiny shreds of paper. She really thought she’d outgrown that nervous habit.

“Well, no, but, it’s difficult to explain. Frank...” She could hear Geillis tutting at the mention of his name. “Frank had certain… er, expectations of how I should be. How I should behave, how I should look. The disapproval on his face if I took an extra roast potato, ordered dessert, poured myself another glass of wine. There was always someone younger, more self-controlled, thinner. So, for a while I tried to become the person he wanted me to be. I tried to see myself through his eyes and I saw the fat arse, the lack of control, the not-really good enough...”

Geillis leaned closer and gently placed her hand on Claire’s. “Thank God ye got out of there. That wasna a healthy place tae be, Claire. Ye know ye’re worth a lot more than that.”

“I know. And I am joking about that duff business but occasionally, old habits are hard to break. That’s why I’m not after a serious relationship. I’m not sure I’m ready to let someone see me as I really am.”

“But a fling will do ye no harm at all. It will do ye the world of good, let ye see how another man treats ye. In fact, we need a list. A checklist. When ye’re in theatre, ye dinna start cuttin’ till ye know everything is in place, all the boxes are ticked. So we make a list of what ye want and ye dinna start, er, flingin’ till a man ticks all the boxes.”

Claire finally put the mangled beer mat down. “A list, really?”

“Aye, it’s scientific, ye ken.” Geillis picked up her bag and rooted around for a piece of paper. Finding an unused paper napkin, she smoothed it flat on the table, extracted a pen from the depths of her bag and sat poised ready to write. “Ok. Point one…” She scribbled something down quickly.

“Come on, Let me read it.” Claire laughed, turning the napkin round. “Must look good in, and out of, a kilt. G, you have a one-track mind.”

“Och, it’s a fling we’re talking about, ye only need one track, I reckon. So, what about point two?”

“Well, I may as well play along. Point two must be no complications.”

Geillis obligingly wrote that down. “Next point. Enjoys a drink. Likes to let his hair down.”

Claire took the pen from her friend and added another line. Geillis read it upside down. “Really, it’s a fling ye’re after. Ye’re tellin’ me if they dinna like the X-Files, that’s it? Is that a deal breaker?”

“What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“Fine, but I’m adding this one then. Fancies ye as ye are. No changing ye.”

The pub was starting to fill up. Most commuters had already made their way home, to be replaced by those heading out for the evening, coming into the pub for a quick drink before their evening plans properly began. Even on a drizzly Thursday evening, it was getting to be standing room only. Claire noticed several people eyeing their table enviously. She drained her whisky glass and stood up.

“I think that’s me done for this evening. Any more and I’ll have to be put to bed right here.  I’ll just pop to the loo and meet you outside, G.”

As Claire crossed the room to the toilets, Geillis started to gather her stuff together to leave.

Immediately a woman rushed to the table, plonked herself in one chair, and stuffed her bag on the other chair. She eyed Geillis, willing her to hurry up and be on her way. Geillis ignored her and continued rifling through her bag, her movements deliberately slowing. Eventually, Geillis decided she’d had enough of the game, turned away and walked to the exit.

**************

Geneva caught Jamie’s eye as he moved away from the bar, drinks in hand, and pointed to the seats she had found for them. He sat down, taking a deep slug of his whisky as he put Geneva’s vodka, lime and soda on the table next to a tatty old napkin.  

“Someone’s shopping list, no doubt.” Geneva dismissed it with a wave of her hand as Jamie picked it up and carried on telling Jamie about the difficulties in trying to find the correct colour for a new bedroom throw. “...Not really a teal, but not quite a cerulean colour either…”

Jamie knew his role in this. It was just to nod and murmur appreciatively at appropriate points in the story. That gave him time to think… unfortunately. Thinking made him realise that Jenny had been right three weeks ago at the wedding. Geneva was not the one, he didn’t need to try again just to see. And she did talk utter shite.

He groaned, which Geneva seemed to take as indication of his deep interest in her tale of home furnishing trials and tribulations. He should never have slept with her. He hadn’t intended to but last night, as the blood left his brain and migrated south, he had lost the capacity for rational, coherent thought and had followed his baser instincts. Which had been a very bad idea.

Jamie glanced at the napkin he was still holding. Straightening it between his fingers, he began to read. A woman with long strawberry blonde locks suddenly leaned over and gently took the napkin from his fingers.  

“Thanks, it’s fer scientific research, ye ken.”  

He watched as she walked to the door, to her waiting friend. Her friend with the long shapely denim clad legs and mad curly hair and her face, so full of life with sparkling eyes he longed to dive right into.

“What an odd thing to want.” Geneva interrupted his contemplation. “That couldn’t have been scientific research. On a used napkin. Some people are just strange.”

Jamie felt his breath catch in his throat. Jenny had been right - he recognised it. What to do now?

[mentalcurls]

3.5 Ammucchiate

Here’s a masterpost of my thoughts on and reactions to 3.5 Ammucchiate, translated from this post, that I mostly compiled from my tweets from that day, because I had A LOT to say. They’re not properly in chronological order and I’ve added a couple of observations I made in hindsight at the end of the season.

While the girlsquad is singing “Bello e impossibile”, Emma sings along and she touches Marti’s shoulder to catch his attention and communicate to him something like “Hey, hear me out, I’m singing about you” but he’s impassive, then lowers the sunglasses to his eyes and doesn’t smile until his eyes are hidden by the lenses

“Bello e impossibile”, by the way, stops right when Emma says “Io adoro i gay”/”I love gay people”, so right at the beginning of Niccolò’s roast

So let’s talk about Niccolò roasting Emma: first thing he does is retract his arms from around Marti’s and Emma’s shoulders (breaking the united front of the three “disertori del terrazzo” he himself had established earlier), then he makes the most unimpressed face ever, then he quotes an extreme example that forces a polarization (“Tutti gli arabi sono terroristi”/”All Arabs are terrorists”; this is a bit of a fallacy, but it’s also a pretty smart move because it makes Emma sound homophobic by association and forces Marti to side with Nico in the event he needs to choose between the two of them), while he could have chosen as an example of generalising something like “All women are bad at driving”, which would have been closer to Emma’s personal experience, but also closer to a direct attack on her (therefore counterproductive if Martino had to pick sides)

Kudos to Niccolò for studying Greek and Latin rhetoric very well, and philosophy too, YAY FOR LICEO CLASSICO

Martino’s dumbstruck expression when he breaks away from kissing Emma, aka when he hears that Niccolò has gone to them and is talking to them. Marti, by the way, doesn’t smile at all during the rest of the conversation with Niccolò (whereas when he was alone with Emma he smiled most of the time, but with his eyes hidden by the sunglasses, which makes me think they were fake smiles)

(I do believe Marti’s positive reactions during the conversation about Apparat were genuine)

Niccolò Fares sitting on the couch between two people who were making out until a second before without an hint of shame, which means he not only positions himself near Marti and manages to put his arm around Martino’s shoulders, but he also physically separates his boy from his love rival Emma. An inspiration.

DID THEY REALLY HAVE TO USE ELIO of all possible names, in the year of CMBYN (I know the reference here is to Elio Germano, not Pearlman, but my brain only recognizes some types of references)

LATENT HOMOSEXUALITY  did he really say that oh God help me

Can we talk about the way Niccolò says “homosexuality” in a normal way, the emphasizes “latent” stressing every syllable?

My heart hurts both because of Nico’s little speech about generalising and because of the way Marti and Emma just leave him alone on the couch

Niccolò looking at his hands, his smile disappearing and the corners of his mouth turning down

During Self Control, Martino doesn’t consider Covitti at all, she tries to get his attention dancing closer, putting her arms around his neck, turning his face to kiss him but 2 seconds later he breaks the kiss and even when she goes for his neck he completely ignores her (p.s.: and we know now that Marti actually likes “neck action” a lot so this is very significant)

This lasts until Niccolò starts watching him, of course, then Marti has to try and make him jealous(?)/show off(?)/follow some kind of weird mating ritual (?)

Martino doesn’t stop watching Niccolò even when he stops watching Marti

10 minutes standing ovation for Rocco Fasano’s eyes 🔥🔥🔥

So that was Martino in the Self Control scene, now let’s talk about Eva. Her expressions! At first she smiles, then she sees Marti with Emma and she stops smiling, she studies them, she notices Marti is distracted, then when they start making out she makes a face and turns away (p.s.: she’s definitely disappointed, because at this point the things she knows are 1) that Marti told her he likes her before the summer 2) he allegedly made her and Gio broke up because of that 3) he has gay porn on his phone 4) he hasn’t approached her and he turned her down just a couple of weeks before with an excuse, so up until now her working theory is that he’s gay, has a thing for Gio, lied to her cause he’s in the closet/in denial; except now? he’s kissing Emma? a girl? who’s not her? She feels confused and betrayed, a feeling that stays with her at least until 7.1 Era per lui)

Then there’s Federica, poor thing, heartbroken and for the completely wrong reason

Eva directing everybody to hide any and all evidence of the party is very me tbh

(except that if it was me and I sent one person out with the trash and he DOESN?T COME BACK AT ALL, I’d kill him? I mean, I appreciate the moment as a fan, but not as my group of friends’ designated problem-solver)

Martino and Emma freezing and not doing anything even after Eva yells “Regà che cazzo mi guardate, dai, dai!” and freaks out

Maddalena and Emma are shown while they do the same thing aka taking the red cloth off the lamps (and this details gives me feels that are entirely unreasonable given that I was about to link this detail to Schopenhauer’s Veil of Maya) (p.s.: I mean, there’s definitely a lot of symbolic meaning I couldn’t quite articulate at the time of the clip, because unveiling = revealing and this is the clip in which the boys reveal their mutual attraction beyond any doubt, plus it’s Emma and Maddi “eliminating” the red light which is so important for Marti and Nico’s relationship, it’s their thing for their most intimate moments)

“Elio” and “Colino” keep silent for 11 second after throwing the trash in the bins, 11 second of fidgeting, 11 second of I’m-looking-I’m-not-looking, 11 seconds of awkwardness, 11 secondi of disaster gay Marti not knowing whether to say something or not

BAM! Niccolò smiles, steals a joke from Emma and Martino starts smiling again for the first time since Nico arrived to the party, since he interrupted Emma to kiss her (and no glasses this time!)

COLINO

God, how sad is this pet name? The allergy pseudo-explanation is even worse, sorry Maddalena, you do you, but Colino is afwul

Martino: ”How long have you been together?” Niccolò: "Since we were 16, but we’ve known each other since middle school. To be honest, we’re more like siblings than anything else. We haven’t fucked in, like, two months.” Let’s analyze this answer: Niccolò gives the information Marti requested, adds a relevant qualifier, then an unnecessary qualifier and another even more unnecessary information (that’s unnecessary when compared with the literal content of the conversation, discounting the context, [which is Niccolò trying to justify his being with Maddalena while undressing Martino with his eyes at every chance to Marti himself])

Marti’s confusion when Nico says “But I can’t break up with her” breaks my hearts, just like the fact that despite everything he genuinely feels bad for Maddalena’s “hypertrichosis”

Seriously, what’s with Niccolò and feet? They’re part of the human body, let them live, or is always mentioning them with a negative connotation some kind of reverse psychology thing to tell the world you’ve got a fetish?

8:53 is the precise time at which Nico cracks and you can see just a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth AND MARTI SEES IT RIGHT AWAY I mean, with all the Nico-watching he does of course he’s carefully catalogued his every tiny change of expression and of course he can’t possibly not notice

So how much time will Martino lose trying to decide whether Niccolò was only joking about the hobbit feet thing, about the whole hypertrichosis thing or about the fact that he can’t break up with Maddalena, too?

That hint of hope and affection you can read in Nico’s eyes while he’s watching Marti right before he starts to move his pinky (thank you Rocco, ily)

My son Niccolò? who can’t stop smiling? when he’s alone with Marti? and who acts so brave??? going for his hand first????

Martino, you’re such a dumbass though, that’s a classic movie move and you look down like an idiot, look at the stars you can’t see instead, look at the street lamp!

Martino’s absolute lack of chill when he looks down towards their hands as sson as Nico touches him kind of makes me homicidal (because it breaks the convention a classic rom com scene), but it makes his answering, reciprocal move even more significant because it’s intentional (p.s.: over time, I actually got a different perspective on this? And I actually completely love it now, cause it makes sense for Marti, it makes sense for a teenager like him and it gives us a feel of disbelief over the whole situation he has to be feeling too cause that shit happens in movies alright, but not in RL, not to people like him, except it’s happening; on top of that, I love LudoBesse for breaking another stereotypical romantic trope and making our boys fucking FEARLESS - I mean, if something like that happened to me I’d be shitting myself and I would ignore it as hard as possible out of fear that if I pointed it out it would scare the other person away, but that’s me)

And then, a herd of mammoths DARES TO INTERRUPT MY CHILDREN you deserve the worst things, folks

Finally, I would just like to state for the record that I’m kind of disappointed Silvia’s 80s party only had 80s music, Eva and Silvia dressed up kind of eighties and a girl in a Madonna-ish outfit, stop

It’s a real shame, I have see no huge bows, no fluo tutus, no legwarmers, no oversized blazers with the big shoulders, no Memphis group style prints on sweatpants, no Puma-Fila-Kappa-Champions N O T H I N G WHERE’S FIORUCCI? 

[buckysgoldenheart]

Undeniable Part 7

You are the fiancée of the rich CEO of a mega international corporation. The day your fiancé asked you to the office to meet his new manager, you were doomed.

Words: 2903

You had nothing else to wear except the clothes you had had on the night you slept with James and the thought of going to his family’s house for dinner in those same clothes made you incredibly embarrassed. You knew immediately after you left the diner yesterday that you would have to go shopping. You needed a few days worth of clothes if you didn’t want to go back to the penthouse anyway.

In addition to the two pair of jeans, three tees, and one sweater you bought to told yourself off until James could get your things from the penthouse, you got yourself a dress for dinner. It was simple, black, and hugged your hips in a way you knew would drive James wild, but since it wasn’t so short that your ass could be seen whenever you bent over, you knew Luke would’ve hated it. That made you love it all the more. You had never been one to overdress, or want to wear heels outside of work, or wear too much makeup, but if you were going to be at his side, Luke demanded you look like you were worthy of being with him. He always made your self-esteem dwindle in his presence and you hadn’t realized until now how often you felt a weight lift from your shoulders when your interactions with him ended.

You were on your way back to the hotel when you heard your phone ding.

J: Hey, sweetheart. Just got a text. All my stuff was moved back into my apartment, so I’m gonna make a call and we should be able to have your things at my place by the time we get back from dinner.  

Y/N: So, we will be in the apartment tonight?

J: Yes, Doll. When I called yesterday, the movers said they could have everything out of the penthouse in about two hours since you’re not bringing any furniture. I gave them a spare key to my place, so we won’t have to wait around for them and we can be on time for dinner. Luke call you at work this morning?

Y/N: Yes, he is pissed. I told him that I had to go to Florida for a couple days and left straight from work on Thursday and forgot to tell him. I told him I would call him back later, but he said he was going out with ‘the guys’ at 6 and not to call him.

J: I will tell the movers to be there at 6:30 then.

Y/N: Ok, I’m on my way to the hotel. Be there in ten.

J: Be safe, Doll.

You pocketed your phone again and turned to hail a taxi.

 When James opened the door, he was on his phone and returned your smile as he described to the movers where all of your things were and where to put them when they got to his place.

“Yea..yea. I know.” He started with an edge of guilt in his voice. “I’m sorry. There really wasn’t time to pack it all up. I’ll pay you guys back for all the boxes. The only things we need are the clothes in the--?” He stopped to look at you for confirmation.

“Left.” You said, setting down your shopping bags and pulling out your new dress.

“Left! Left closet. Yep. Mhmm. Yea, I think that’s it.”

Quickly, you shot around to face him. “Spare key!”

“Oh, right, right. Key to the penthouse is under the mat. Ok. Great. Thank you so much.” He hung up the phone with a huge grin on his face that turned into a look of shock combined with lust when he saw the dress in your hands. “What’s that?”

You smirked at him before holding the dress against your body. “I got it for tonight.” You smiled as you looked down at it. “Do you like it?”

James let out a shaky breath. “Uh, yea, you could say that.” He finished with a smile. “Uh, what time is it? Do we um...”

“No James, we do not have time to have sex. We have to leave in 30 minutes and I’m gonna need every single one of them.”

James let out a little moan. “Dolllll, it’s just my sister. We don’t need to spend a lot of time getting ready. Lets just have sex instead.”

“James, I’d like to look somewhat nice for your family.”

“You always look nice. You could show up in a burlap sack and you would look nice.”

“You’re sweet, but no.”

“How am I supposed to get through dinner with you looking like that?” He whined.

“You’ll survive, I’m sure.”

“You keep putting me in these situations, baby. I mean look me.” He said gesturing down to his growing hard on within his sweatpants. You chucked and the look in his eyes became pleading making you only want to tease him more. So, slowly you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, your bodies so close that your thigh brushed against the part of his body that was jutting towards you with need. James let out a subtle moan. You smirked, thrilled that you could elicit this emotion from him. You would never get tired of it.

“Ok, what about this…” You began. “I wear the dress and when we get home I let you rip it off me. Consider it a housewarming present.”

He groaned again. “Damn it, Doll. Those words coming from your mouth does not do one good thing for my current situation. I’ll want to rush through dinner.” He said, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well don’t. I want to get to know your family better.”

“Mmm. Fine” He grunted. “But, I’m holding you to that promise.”

You chuckled again. “Don’t worry. I want it just as much as you do. Now let me get dressed.”

 5 minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom in your new dress. You looked down at yourself and smiled. You felt absolutely beautiful and by the look on James’ face while you watched him trail his eyes up and down your form made you think he thought so as well. He gave you a confidence that calmed your nerves at the prospect of seeing his sister, her husband, and their baby girl again. “Wow.” He whispered and you smiled again.

James had his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him in this cold weather as he knocked on the door to his sisters home just outside the city. It was quaint. You could picture yourself here one day. Visiting them for family holidays, birthdays, parties.

Steve opened the door with a big smile on his face. “Babe, they’re here!”

Sharon rushed around her husband and pulled you both inside. “Thank you, Honey.” She replied. “Get out of the cold, you two.”

You embraced the warmth and shrugged of your coat and before you knew it, you felt two small arms wrap around your legs, holding you in place. You looked down to meet a cute little face that stared back up at you. “Hello.” You smiled.

“Hello.”

James untangled the girl from your legs and scooped her up in his arms. “Now Dot, give the pretty lady the ability to walk.”

“Ok.” She said, her face falling a little before James let her down, Dot rushing back to the living room and plopping down to play with her barbie.

Sharon giggled. “That’s my little girl.” She turned to watch Dot play with her toys before looking back to you. “I hope you like pot-roast, Y/N.”

“That sounds great. Let me help you in the kitchen. I’m not much of a cook, but I know how to chop some vegetables.”

Sharon smiled. “Well thank you, I would love that. It would give us a chance to chat without these boys lingering over our shoulders.” She said, playfully glaring at them.

Next thing you knew, you were in the Rogers’ tiny kitchen chopping carrots. “I’m glad we have this time to talk. Bucky really raves about you, you know. I’ve never seen him this way. I’ve only known him to be in love once before, but the way he looks at you pales in comparison to a single look he ever gave that girl.”

“Yea. I really like him too.” You joked.

“He’s in love with you.” She said, making eye contact with you. “He didn’t even have to tell me, I just knew it instantly.”

“I love him too.”

“Oh honey, I know. It’s not like you keep a good secret either.”

James poured Steve a small glass of whiskey before getting one for himself.

“She’s great, Buck.”

“Yea, I got lucky.” He smiled into his glass as he took a sip. “Can I tell you something?”

“Since when couldn’t you?”

James looked down into his glass in a way that instantly worried Steve. “She’s engaged.”

“What?!?!” Steve’s eyes widened so much that James wasn’t entirely sure they wouldn’t pop out of his head. “Bucky, you’re sleeping with an engaged woman?”

“Afraid so, but listen, its over between them. He was abusive, emotionally, and we had an instant connection that neither of us could deny. We’ve moved her out. She’s going to live with me and break up with him.” He ran his free hand through his hair. “God, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

“Because I’m your best friend.”

“Yea, you are. I just wanted someone to know. He’s got a temper. I just don’t want him to come after us.”

“Does he know about you?”

“He knows of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s my boss.”

“LUKE REESE?!”

“Keep it down!” James hushed.

“Bucky, she’s engaged to Luke Reese?” Steve said, this time in a whisper.

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

“Yea.”

“God.” Steve ran his hand through his hair. “That man sunk my friend Anthony’s business into the ground.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I’ve heard he has no trouble making his way around when it comes to the women in this city.”

“Believe me, he doesn’t. I’ve seen it for myself.”

“Geez, even if Y/N didn’t love you….” Steve started, earning himself a glare from his friend. “She’s is too good for that.”

“That she is.”

 “Alright Doll, you ready?”

“Yes!” You smiled, bouncing on your feet.

James, pulled out the key to his apartment and held it out to you. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Tentatively, you took the key from his hand and turned around to place it in the lock. As you turned the key, James’ lips connected with the top of your shoulder and trailed up your neck, his hands on your waist.

When you opened the door, you walked inside, his lips never leaving you skin. You smiled and turned to kiss his plump lips, completely ignoring the apartment. He moved his hands up to your face and pulled you closer to him, stepping you back further into the apartment. You were ready to pull him into the bedroom, relying on him to lead you there, when a deep voice interrupted your intentions.

“Over me already, are you Y/N?”

Within the blink of an eye, you stopped your kisses and both of your heads shot up, turning in the direction of the voice. Instantly, James’ gaze darkened and he stepped in front of you.

“Luke?!” You practically shrieked.

“Miss me baby?” He smirked

 Luke sat there on James’ couched as casually as one could be, arms stretched out along the back, right ankle crossed and resting on his left knee.

“This is a great place.” He said, looking around appraisingly. “I mean, really nice. It’s not the penthouse, but it’s not the worst thing in the world.”

“Luke…” You started, honestly scared. “Luke, what? How?” You were at a complete loss for words.

“Oh Yes baby, I love when you say my name.”

“Luke, what the fuck are you doing here!?” James seethed, his shoulders rising and falling with the rate of his breath. You could feel the heat and anger radiate off his body.

“God, it’s the funniest thing.” Luke started with the same causal tone that matched his body language. He stood and brushed invisible dust off his shirt. He rounded the couch and began to walk around the living room, looking at everything around him. “I got home and these guys were in my penthouse. Just moving around like they owned they place, packing up my fiancées things and carrying them right out the door.” He paused, for dramatic effect you were sure. “Naturally, as I’m sure you could imagine, I was in absolute shock…” His gaze turning back to the two of you, gesturing in your direction. “So, curious as I was, I asked one of the men what they were doing trespassing on my property and of course they told me. I guess you didn’t prep them to keep quiet. ‘Some guy.’ They said. ‘Some guy?’ I questioned.” His face making an expression of pure confusion, acting out the scene like an actor on a stage. “’Who is this guy?’ I asked. ‘Who could he possibly be?’ They were hesitant at first, let me tell you, but I slipped them a simple 100-dollar bill and they spilled like a broken dam and well, obviously gave me the key. Anyway, turns out it was James Barnes! I looked at them as if they had lost their simple minds. James Barnes? Surely, they were mistaken. The man I trusted to run my business? It could not be true. I was able to put two and two together, but it just did not make sense to me. ‘They had only met once’ I thought. ‘My fiancée was in Florida.’” He said, beginning to near you. James took one step forward and Luke instantly stopped in his tracks, his hands flying up in surrender. “Oh, ok. I get it, I get it. You two are very in love. I would hate to get in the way of something so pure.”

“Luke.” James started. His anger was growing and it worried you as his hands formed fists at his sides. “Leave. Now!”

“James…” You placed you hand on his bicep, gently squeezing, trying to calm him. Your touch relaxed him, but not enough to stop your nerves.

“Oh, James…” Luke mocked with a voice of admiration; a voice that sounded like it came from a princess swooning over a prince.

“Luke…” You started calmly. His hot temper was not something you wanted to stir. “Luke…I don’t love you anymore. I know you slept with Jenna.”

“As if you didn’t force me to her. You wouldn’t let me fuck you!”

“Luke. I don’t want to do this. We can end this peacefully. You don’t love me anyway. Leave and we don’t have to see each other again. You can have your ring back.”

“Y/N, Y/N…Can you imagine what the city would say if Luke Reeses’ fiancée left him for another man?”

“Luke, you can say what you want. Tell the press whatever you want. Say you left me. I don’t care.”

“Oh Y/N, I knew you cared about me deep down. I knew you would always love me.” He replied sarcastically.

“He’s better than you.” You said matter of factly.

“Mhm well, if you say so. But, you see the thing is, for some reason I just can’t seem to let this go. I don’t know what it is. I just feel the need to…to hit something. Get out some frustration.”

“Luke…” You practically pleaded. You had never stressed his name so much in your life.

“God, I just wonder what I could use.” He looked around quickly in every direction, even spinning to do so before settling himself back in front of you. “There doesn’t seem to be a punching bag around or some sort of teddy bear I can beat the shit out of.”

“Luke!” James yelled. “Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

“Ok, Ok, Ok. I get it. You two want to be alone. I just gotta get this out.” And before either of you knew it, Luke was on James, his fist colliding with James’ jaw. His head shot back to Luke, anger flaring in his eyes before he shoved Luke back and tackled him to the ground. You ran to them and pulled on James’ arm. “Baby, please!” He turned his head and his face softened at the look in your eyes. He let you pull him up and he took a step back. It took a second, but he collected himself.

“Get up and get the fuck out. Before I call the police.” James ordered at Luke, surprisingly calm. “I don’t want to see your damn face again. You won’t have to see mine. I won’t be coming back to the office, but you leave us alone. You leave her alone. This is done.”

Luke rose, a hand moving to his ribs and a smile on his face. “We will see I guess.” He chuckled and headed toward the exit. “We’ll see.” And he was out the door. James slammed it, locked it, and turned to you.

“Baby…” he said moving to you and placing his hands on either side of your face.

“I’m fine.” You assured him. “It’s ok. Let’s just go to bed.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He said gripping you hand.

tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @agentsinstorybrooke @dani-si @alyssiamking @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @tessvillegas @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @shitmymomsay @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999

[artisticflutter]

Home For Christmas - ML Secret Santa

Gosh, I hope my recipient hasn’t thought they were left out. Today is my posting day and guess what? @nyxavalon! Iiii am your Secret Santa! And I’ve whipped up a story for you! Hope you enjoy~

Rating: G Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort Pairing(s): None (sort of) Summary: Christmas has come once again... after the battle between Miraculous has ended. (Identities Revealed) Warning: There are some Season Two spoilers so proceed at your own risk.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay, Chlò.”

He remembers it was just a few years ago…

“I’m sure you could still fly out here and join us.”

How lively the manor could be with him, his mother and father, and the staff.

“No, it’s really okay! It’s not just going to be me, I promise.”

When his mother disappeared, his father still got a tree, but he didn’t join in on the decorating like before.

“If you say so. Ugh, looks like I have to go. Daddy wanted to try scuba diving… I’ll make sure to send you a photo.”

And now…

“Haha, I’ll be looking forward to it. Talk to you later, Chlò.”

Adrien hung up after her hurried ‘Later!’ and lowered his cell phone.

The Manor was dark and cold and empty. He had sent the staff home to spend their Christmas with their families, it was only fair. His right ring finger, once commonly adoring a silver ring, was bare. His time – no, their time being heroes had come to an end and Miraculous had gone with it.

Hawkmoth was…

His father was…

… The point was he’d never have to see that man again. After everything, after the intentional manipulation and neglect, it would be much too soon. It was their victory, but maybe it could have waited.

Nothing but his footsteps echoed as he walked up the stairs and down the hall, pristine white walls bathed in twilight’s fallen night and the fainter, colorful hues from twinkling fairy lights decorating other abodes near. It would be about this time a certain little black cat god would whine for Camembert or suggest they go out, but there was nothing. Subconsciously, he rubbed his finger and the smooth skin left pale by the ring he wore for years.

Nothing…

In his bedroom, he stood before the window panels and stared outside. It was really beautiful, seeing the quiet snowfall with the few stars that managed to shine through Paris’s light pollution. He could look beyond the gate and see beyond his walls a warm and still awake city that exemplified all the brightness and love it was known for. It was not a city he could join from his own prison, as self-imposed as it was.

He should have known.

How could he have not known his father was the villain?

Considering how frequent he had been absent and probably just waiting to akumatize someone. All those times when there wouldn’t be a show for months, there really was no excuse… and at some point, he had figured out he was Chat Noir. That man had known and still fought them – fought him, tempted him to join his side – to bring his mother back. His mother whom he’d lied about being missing because missing implied being able to be found alive or dead. She was gone and never coming back, and honestly, that was something he had excepted where his father had refused.

But that was the power of love, wasn’t it?

It could drive even the sanest man insane and become an obsession, couldn’t it? It was frightening… how much it made his – made Gabriel not care anymore.

Eyes falling, Adrien breathed slowly.

In and out, hoping it would lessen the aching, but the winking lights and faintest lull of Christmas music soon overpowered by the Notre Dame’s bells. He counted the echoing chimes and felt his heart sink further and further, the cold sweeping over his shoulders like a cowl he couldn’t remove. It latched onto his neck and covered his head, squeezing itself over his shoulders to fasten around his body. He wanted it off, but he also understood he deserved it.

“… Merry Christmas,” he whispered, wanting to say ‘Claws out!’ and dash along the rooftops again. No one would be looking for him – no one would pretend to be concerned about his whereabouts. The city could forgive him for the sins of his father, but people did not. Forehead pressing against the glass, he bit his lip.

He wanted to be forgotten and for everything to be over; he didn’t want to be alone and he couldn’t take it anymore.

Eyes snapping open at the jarring ring of the Manor’s doorbell, Adrien stepped away from the glass and half-turned to his bedroom door, one eyebrow raised. Blinking, he didn’t proceed to answering the call until the second, the third, and finally, the fourth ring forced him to walk back. Whoever came calling tonight was persistent, but it was also Christmas. He could see what they wanted and perhaps give them what they want; and if it was him, that was fine.

The intercom connected to the doorbell was in Gabriel’s old office, the room stripped bare of possessions he refused to keep and gladly gave to the police as evidence. Any actual designer work on the computer had been returned to him via chip which he hadn’t bothered keeping either. Marinette might’ve been sore at his father’s actions, but his designs were still begrudgingly admirable. Approaching the lone intercom still affixed to the barren desk, Adrien tapped the button to turn it on and answer.

“Hello…?”

Hopefully, he managed to keep his tone curious.

“Adrien Ascil Agreste! You better open this door right now! It’s freezing!”

“… Alya?”

“Ugh, I can’t feel my arms. Dude, open the door…”

“Wait, what? Nino, what are you both--?”

“Adrien, you forgot to actually lock the gate.”

“Marinette? U-Uh, gimme a sec…!”

Bewildered at why they were on his doorstep, he literally jogged from the office and to the front door, pulling it open. He quickly moved aside as the three charged inside followed by others: their parents and siblings, friends from school and their families, and then other friends from around Paris. He winced as the lights were turned on, the previous silence concussed by voices, crinkling paper, and bells. Cold fled from the heat spreading into the corners and the numb scent with it as various smells of pine, roast, and sweets filled the foyer.

Adrien’s head snapped around, wide eyes still trying to process what was occurring until a hand gently pressed against his shoulder… followed by a clap to his back and another shoulder bumping his unoccupied one. Marinette, Nino, and Alya stood around him, watching the Manor become besieged by festivities. A tree was being erected in the corner by the Gorilla and Tom, Manon, Etta, and Ella eagerly standing aside to help decorate with Rose, Ali, and Juleka. Sabine and Marlena walked with Wang, Fred, and Nadja towards the dining room with plates of food, Mylène and Ivan assisting. Nino’s cousin Chris, their teacher Caline Bustier, and even Jagged Stone and Penny, and he still didn’t understand.

“What’s…?”

“It’s Christmas, of course,” Alya said, her lip quirked and eyebrow raised. “What did you think we were going to do? Not be here?”

“… Yes?” Adrien meekly answered, almost flinching at the looks all three of them gave him next. “I mean, if anything, you would’ve spent Christmas at home with your families while I just… I don’t know. Why should I celebrate when my father terrorized Paris? I let him get away with--”

“Dude, that was your dad,” Nino cut him off, his brows furrowed. “And no one blames you for his actions. Perfect poster boy Adrien? No one could see you cooperating with him.”

“Well, that…” Marinette started before leaning a little closer. “And Ladybug may have put in a word that she was positive on her Miraculous that Adrien wasn’t involved with any of Hawkmoth’s actions.”

“You did?”

He stumbled as the small young woman bumped him, making him stagger into Nino. Eyes wide, he watched hers roll. “Of course. I mean, I couldn’t tell people that Adrien was my partner fighting against Hawkmoth, but I think it’s enough that the superheroine that’s been protecting Paris for a while has an idea on who’s really involved.”

“There are some skeptics,” Alya chimed in, shaking her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Ladybug has a crush on Adrien, Ladybug letting him off because he’s handsome, stupid nonsense like that…”

“This city doesn’t know their superheroes as well as they think,” Nino scoffed. “If they knew what Ladybug had thought about her partner on the first day of school…”

“N-Nino…!”

Adrien heard them laughing, but he still didn’t understand. He didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve any of them.

“Adrien…?”

He blinked, noticing that the three were standing before him and the activities around them had settled down. They weren’t alone in the room, but everyone else was now talking quietly amongst themselves. Marinette, Alya, and Nino seemed to be watching him and he wondered if he was supposed to say something. However, Marinette started before he could decide.

“We know you probably blame yourself for all this – for not being able to see that it was your father, but you know we understand,” she spoke softly, pulling a small box out of her pocket. It looked familiar. “Parents aren’t supposed to be the bad guys after all, even if they want to do everything they can for their children. You’ve sacrificed more than any of us to bring peace back to Paris, so much that it meant being alone for Christmas when you don’t deserve that.”

“Yeah, man. It’s not fair that you get the raw end of the deal,” Nino added and Alya had a coy grin on her face.

“Which is why we… may have spoken to someone before today about, I don’t know, maybe patrolling for one more evening or for the next few years,” she hummed, but Adrien wasn’t even looking at her as she spoke because his eyes were glued to the box Marinette was holding. Its dark mahogany and the familiar intricate Chinese painted detail sealed within lacquer finish on top shined even in the dim light, and he felt his eyes sting as the box opened to reveal the ring resting within the red velvet interior. His eyes rising, he noticed Marinette’s earrings, Nino’s bracelet, and watched Alya draw out her necklace from her shirt collar. Blue, green, and violet eyes of three small kwami appeared as each watched from their hiding places: Marinette’s collar, Nino’s headphones, and Alya’s pocket.

Adrien looked at the ring again, the green paw inviting him, calling to him to pick it up… and he only squinted at the green light that shone as the ring turned silver.

Stretching up with a mighty yawn, Plagg’s whiskers twitched before he opened his eyes.

“That was a nice nap. Hey kid, got any Camembert? You know I’m not transforming you until you gimme some.”

Merry Christmas~!