#god its been so long since i drew him. like four years or some shit

[skeleton---arts]

So god forbid I'm seen

Just as an average human being

I mean,

Imagine if protagonists

Just died in the first scene!

(ID in alt text)

[fruitcoops]

Night Changes

This isn't based on an ask, but I've had some early-Cap ideas brewing and think about the first time the team heard him laugh a lot. His and James' friendship is so sweet in SW--the beginning of it must have been such a shock to them both. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

So maybe James had bitten off more than he could chew. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, but coaxing (read: drag kicking and screaming) his new teammate out of the carefully-constructed mosaic of scowls that made up his entire personality was proving to be a little more challenging than he previously expected. With most rookies, all it took was some elbow grease and overenthusiastic inclusion in group events to get them to open up—with his brand-new soon-to-be best friend, he had to handle things a little more delicately.

Sirius Black was a puzzle wrapped up in one of those freaky code-breaking machines from World War Two Lily liked to talk about. He was one of the best hockey players James had ever seen, but off the ice he seemed to shut down. The intense focus on his face smoothed out into almost perfect neutrality, and in the four months since he joined the Lions, he had never once smiled for real in front of the team. He sat in his stall and padded up in silence, then went out and kicked ass before following Pascal home like a living shadow.

Naturally, James took it as a personal mission to pry Sirius Black’s closed-off persona open like a stubborn oyster. He tried including Sirius in group events—the rookie went along with a quiet “yeah, sure”, but sat at the table and nursed a single drink for the entire night. He tried getting into friendly banter with him on the ice, but it was like Sirius had never joked with anyone in his life. Hell, he even tried finding him a girlfriend, which tanked harder than the goddamn Titanic.

“Rookie!” James shouted down the hallway.

Sirius jumped and turned around, obviously confused. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” James laughed, jogging over to toss an arm over his shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

He waited for Sirius to continue, then rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly shake. “C’mon, man, how was your weekend? Has Dumo coerced you into being a stay-at-home babysitter yet?”

Sirius’ frown deepened. “What? I come with him to practice every day.”

Change tactics, change tactics— “Got any plans for Friday?”

James knew the answer, of course; it was always no or not yet or a simple shake of the head. If he was a less observant man, he would have assumed Sirius didn’t actually want to hang out with the team. But the longing looks toward their easy rhythm and the way he always tilted himself toward locker room conversations told a different story. “None yet,” Sirius said with a shrug.

James gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Good, ‘cause I’m having a party at my place and you’re not allowed to miss it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be there, duh.” The bewilderment didn’t fade from Sirius’ face, but beneath it—well, maybe James was just seeing things, but he looked almost hopeful. He ruffled Sirius’ hair and headed for the locker room. “Friday at five, rookie! I’ll be waiting!”

--

The week passed in a slog of practices and cold weather. Sirius clammed up more and more as the party drew closer, but James didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered between the rest of them like he was analyzing a play. He would make one hell of a captain someday, if he could just relax a little.

“Hey, rookie, want a ride?” he asked when the big day finally arrived.

“Don’t you want to go home and set up first?” Sirius’ brow furrowed. For an eighteen-year-old kid, he was awfully thoughtful. James couldn’t wait to see him let loose a little. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“It’s a yes or no question,” he teased, poking the bit of exposed shoulder through the widening hole in Sirius’ under armor.

“I…” He faltered, then the corner of his mouth twitched up. It was the closest thing James had seen to a smile from him yet. One point for Potter. “Sure, Pots. Thanks.”

“No problem. Meet me at my car in five or so, yeah?”

“D’accord.”

“Oho, fancy French,” James laughed, turning back to unlace his skates.

It wasn’t until thirty seconds after Sirius left the room that he remembered he never told the rookie what his car looked like. Horrible, terrible visions of the poor guy wandering around the parking lot—or, god forbid, thinking James had left without him—flashed through his mind. It would undo everything he had been working so hard to build.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath as he shoved his gear into his duffel with reckless abandon and hurried out of the locker room. His legs would be stiff from trying to run so soon after a grueling drill practice, but it was worth it to save his friend. “Rookie? Hey, Sirius, you still here?”

There was no response. James cursed again and made a beeline for the door to the parking lot. Please, God, don’t let him get lost. I need him to trust me.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he panted as he burst out onto the half-frozen concrete.

Sirius looked up from his phone with a strange expression. “Are you okay?”

“Thought I lost you for a sec.”

“You said to meet at your car, yes?” He glanced between James and the car in sudden worry.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely, I just—” He made an aborted gesture and dug his keys out of his pocket. “I realized I forgot to tell you which one is mine.”

Sirius blinked at him. “I know what your car looks like.”

“How?”

“Because you drive it here every single day and you gave me a ride three weeks ago.”

‘Dumbass’ went unsaid, but James could feel it hanging in the air. He coughed lightly. “Right. Anyway, you can toss your bag wherever and hop in the passenger seat. My place isn’t far from here.”

Sirius took his duffel as he unlocked the car and settled both in the trunk with more care than James’ poor, battered bag had ever seen in its life. That was another thing that confused him about Sirius Black—he was so careful. He walked quietly for someone so tall, and each movement seemed pre-planned.

Each movement, that is, until he tried to get in the car. “Uh, Pots?”

“That’s m—oh.” James covered his mouth to stifle his laughter as Sirius tried to fold himself into the passenger seat and failed miserably. “I’m sorry, my girlfriend was sitting there last. Uh, there’s a lever on your right—yeah, there, just give it a pull and—”

With a harsh ka-chunk, the seat slid all the way back. Both men froze. It took everything in James’ power not to burst out laughing at the deer-in-headlights shock on Sirius’ face.

“Yep, that one,” he managed. “Nice job.”

They drove in relative quiet—James chattered on about weekend plans and hummed to the radio while Sirius watched out the window with the occasional monosyllable response. It took James a bit by surprise how comfortable he was, even without a steady stream of banter. Sirius might have been stubborn and silent and determined to foil all James’ plans at getting him to socialize, but he was calming to be near, like an anchor on unsteady water. Despite his overall quiet air, he was obviously paying attention to every word that left James’ mouth.

“You’re a good guy, y’know that?” he said as they turned onto his street. Sirius glanced over in surprise. “Most people tune me out within, like, five minutes.”

“I’m a good listener.”

James opened his mouth to respond, then paused. “Was that—Sirius Black, was that a joke?”

Something akin to mischief—mischief!—crossed his face. “Maybe.”

“Were you roasting me?” James gaped at him. “Oh my god. The guys are never gonna believe this.”

“Probably not.”

“You sick bastard. They won’t believe me.”

“You can give it a shot,” Sirius said with a shrug as the engine turned off. Pieces began to connect in James’ head as he stared, incredulous, at the rookie he thought would never even crack a smile. Four months of work had not been wasted, as he had feared; every joke, every one-sided conversation, and every attempt to get Sirius involved had been seen and heard and taken to heart. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sirius actively agree to something unless James asked personally.

“We’re friends,” he said aloud, too surprised and too happy to hold it in. Not friends in the way James was with the rest of their loud, over-the-top teammates, but friends all the same.

“Well, yeah,” Sirius said as if it was obvious.

James unbuckled his seatbelt and socked him lightly on the shoulder, barely suppressing a shriek of excitement. “Love you, man. Grab your shit, we’ve got a party to set up.”

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

As much as it pained James to say it, having someone around who was six-foot-three was a huge help. There was no blow to his pride as he dragged Lily’s stepstool out; no grudging acceptance that he simply couldn’t reach those last two inches on the wall. Instead, he could foist any and all responsibility on his brand-new best friend in the whole wide world and focus on the things that mattered, like putting anything breakable or important far away from the grubby hands of his inebriated teammates.

His success was still ringing in his ears when the guests finally arrived—throughout the evening, James rode the high of accomplishing his mission to pull Sirius Black into his tight-knit circle. Every minute of those four months was worth it.

Midnight came and went, and by one-thirty in the morning James’ cramped living room was packed with tipsy hockey players in a vague imitation of a circle. “Non, non, I’ve gotta good one,” Dumo said, hiccupping. The room fell quiet as he leaned forward. “What do you call a body of water with a chicken in it?”

“What?” Kasey whispered, starry-eyed like a kid at Christmas.

“A swimming pool.”

The room stayed quiet, and then someone started to laugh. Slowly, they all turned to the source of the noise, and James felt a ripple of shock roll through the team as Sirius snorted. “It’s a swimming pool,” he said around a smile, his accent thick from three drinks. He had a nice laugh; James could get used to hearing it. “Like—poule, like chicken?”

His whole face was alight with happiness. James wasn’t sure whether to cry or cheer. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, he thought. That look, right there. Sirius fit in among the group like a missing piece of their puzzle, snickering away as if he hadn’t been stoically silent a day in his life. His laugh was downright bubbly.

“I don’t think they get it,” Dumo said into the rim of his cup.

Sirius shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “D’accord, so—so ‘chicken’ in French is poule, yeah? So a chicken in a body of water is a swimming poule. Do you get it now?”

A few oh’s of understanding washed over them, but several people continued to stare. “Too drink for this,” Sergei grumbled, though James could see the smile pulling at his mouth as Sirius turned to him with bright eyes.

“But it’s funny!” Sirius protested, so earnest it made James’ heart hurt.

“I think it’s funny, rookie,” he assured him with a clumsy pat on the arm. “And it’s my house, so I say Dumo gets a point this round.”

Kasey hiccupped. “Hey, anyone who makes the rookie laugh gets points in my book. No offense, dude.”

“None taken,” Sirius said, though his cheeks were pink.

James nudged him with his shoulder as Talker started a knock-knock joke. “It’s okay,” he said under his breath.

Sirius picked at the label on his cup. “I know I haven’t been very social,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” James insisted. “It always takes rookies a while to warm up, so we’re just glad you’re happy. I’m glad my best friend is having a good time at my party.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Sirius looked over, eyebrows raised. “Best friend?”

“What, like you didn’t see this coming?” James slung an arm over his shoulder. “Yes, you French-Canadian nerd, you’re my best friend. And that means I’m your best friend, and there’s no take-backsies.”

“What the hell is a take-backsie?” Sirius laughed. “Did you make that up?”

James grinned. He had the feeling this was the beginning of an excellent friendship.

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Good intentions

Bucky Barnes x reader

Had to divide the story into four parts, and I’m working as fast as I can to finish the rest.

Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :) Especially if you like it.

Everybody's alive.

When Natasha catches your reaction to seeing a soaking wet Bucky coming in from the rain, your life becomes unbearable. Nat considers herself a decent matchmaker, but what happens when both her subjects are resisting her attempts?

***

Part 1: Matchmaker

Word count: 4412

It had been raining for weeks. Racing streaks down the glass. Soft drumming against the umbrella. Big, fat drops of water splashing against the pavement, sending shivers through my body whenever they hit my skin. Two in rapid succession on my neck – don't know how, though, my coat collar was pulled up as high as it could go, and my umbrella was larger than average. Then one straight into my ear, which made me squeak in disgust. This had to be an omen.

I shook my umbrella before stepping through the door. No need to be a savage, though from the look of it, I was the only one who cared. A quick nod good morning to Nesta in the reception while making a mental note to call down the cleaning crew. The state of the floor was appalling. Mud and dirt and water – apparently not everyone remembered to wipe their feet before entering the building. And umbrellas all along the wall, dripping on the tiles, creating puddles so large a toddler would happily jump in them.

A long sigh escaped. Time for a stern talk with Nesta again. This was supposed to be a good first impression, not an impression of someone's mudroom. My stomach twisted, this was just the latest in a long string of minor complaints. If she didn't improve soon, I would have to make a note in her file and I hated being strict. Still, it was a part of my job, just like running errands before eight in the morning and longing for the coffee I left in my office. I didn't have to like it.

The elevator pinged. “Hey, Y/N.” Natasha walked out with a smile on her face. Her hair was red again, like flames cascading over her shoulders. Damn, that woman really could carry any hair colour. I nodded and smiled back. “Good morning, Agent Romanov. You're in early. What can I do for you? Love your hair, by the way."

"Thanks. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

I shook off my coat and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "Of course. What do you need? Let me just –""

The door blew open, banging into the doorstopper before closing behind a sopping wet figure and an umbrella that definitely had seen better days. "Good morning, Y/N. Hey, Nat. Have you seen Clint?" Bucky shook himself, sending a glittering spray of water everywhere.

"No, but check the roof."

The air was knocked straight out of me. I couldn't stop the tiny squeak that tumbled over my lips.  The way his hair stuck to his face did things to me, not to mention how the water glistened on his metal arm. I hadn't felt heat on my face like that since I was seventeen and spilled juice all over my shirt in front of my neighbour Todd.

Swallowing the rest of the rude noises hovering in my throat, I forced a smile and nodded to the elevator. "Saw him by the coffee machine on the third floor earlier, Sargent Barnes." My voice was breathier that usual, and I cursed the weather for calling me out like that, while simultaneously praying to any deities listening that nobody noticed.

"Thanks." He marched to the elevator with a pace that would divide a crowd of people without a word.

Natasha looked between Bucky and me, a devilish smile spreading on her face. Once he was out of earshot, she bumped me with her elbow. “So, Bucky, huh?”

The heat crept up my ears and settled in my temples. Surely I was no more than two seconds from combusting? “What? I don’t… no, I mean –" I drew a big breath and steeled my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, what was it you needed my help with?”

Her eyes locked on mine. "Never mind that… You're a terrible liar."

A good point. I let out a small wheeze and scrunched my eyes shut. "Fine! Yes, Sargent Barnes is a tall drink of water. Is that what you want me to say? Well, yeah, okay. Maybe I do have a thing for him." The defeat was inevitable. Already my intestines were squirming. Nothing good could come from this.

Natasha looked like it was Christmas and her birthday all at once. "I knew it!"

I shrugged, ignoring the rising chill in my chest. How to best deescalate this before it got out of hand? "Well, you are a superspy after all. But please, PLEASE, don't say anything to him. I like my job. Besides, he's a fucking superhero. I'm just… me."

"Just you?" She shook her head lightly and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, come on! Look at me!" Holding my arms out, I swayed from side to side. I never liked to draw attention to my body, but apparently she needed the extra visual.

Natasha arched her eyebrow. "I am looking."

She was good, but I couldn't to give up that easily. "Yes, and then you clearly see that I'm ordinary. People like him don't fall for people like me. He's too perfect for that."

"Perf… perfect?" She snorted. "Y/N, Bucky's a mess. He's basically a cucumber with anxiety. Damn, you really have it bad if –"

"I know he has issues. You all do. I'm the one booking everybody's therapy sessions, remember? I'm not talking about his trauma. I'm talking about the fact that he's sweet as a marshmallow and his smile could power a small European country if Stark only found a way to harness its brilliance –"

"And the fact that he's got those broad shoulders and could probably lift and throw a bus if he wanted…"

"And that," I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck to stop that annoying heat from spreading even more. That was a delicious picture, alright. "But I'm nothing special."

"Y/N, sweetie, what are you talking about? You know everything, who's supposed to be where, what we're doing, when we come and go – that's practically a superpower right there. Don't downplay yourself."

The laughter came out dry and humourless. She had to be kidding. Being organised and good at puzzles wasn't exactly rocket science. And besides, I didn't even have a good memory. Without my trusty calendar and phone I'd be running around like Hei-Hei.

"Appreciate your confidence in me, but I don't think so, Nat," I countered and repeated: "Please don't tell him."

She sighed. "I won't."

I tilted my head and put on my best mom-voice. "Promise me."

Her shoulders slumped forward, and she lifted her hand in the air. "I promise I will never tell James Buchanan Barnes about your crush." There was a small pause. "Partypooper!"

"Who's a partypooper?"

I yelped and spun around, looking into Tony's smiling face. "Oh my god, Tony, I mean, Mr Stark." Why did he have to be so stealthy? A big, flashy guy like him ought to be required to announce his arrival with trumpets and drums. Through my galloping heartbeats I noted the glasses were new though, and wondered what kind of new tech they really were. They suited him.

He smirked. “Not the first time a lady has said that to me. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, just barely resisting the urge to pinch my nose – or maybe kick him in the shin as a diversion. This was going to hell with the express train. “No one. No one's a partypooper.”

“Really?” He turned to Natasha. “Nat?”

I shook my head vigorously, bringing forth all malice I had to my eyes, which I have been told is substantial.

"Y/N has a crush and –"

"Ooh, is it me?" He winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

That made me laugh. "What? Oh, god no." Then I immediately felt bad for my reaction.

"Okay, a little bit insulted, but whatever…"

"She won't let me tell Bucky that she's in love with him," Natasha continued as if she had never been interrupted.

Tony gasped, a look of absolute delight in his eyes.

It was as if the ground disappeared beneath me. A rush of adrenaline almost knocked me off my feet. "Natasha! You promised."

She shrugged and pointed at Tony. "I promised not to tell Bucky. Last I checked, that is not him."

This time I did pinch the bridge of my nose and exhaled deeply, then groaned silently. “Nat!” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. “Sargent Barnes is a friend. Well, uh, a colleague. Of sorts. I do not -“

“So you didn’t just squeak and burst into flames when he came through that door, huh?” She pointed to the glass door with a grin on her face.

Yeah, this was definitely a torture-the-handler day. Though Natasha was right about my crush, of course, and I wasn't even sure it was just a crush anymore; it had lasted for far too long to be called a crush, I had to keep a professional relationship with all of them.

Truth be told I had had a crush on Bucky since the day we were introduced, but I remembered the exact moment I had fallen in love: it was a chilly spring evening about a year ago. The team had decided to go out to eat, Wanda had discovered a new restaurant downtown, and the food supposedly was to die for. I couldn’t remember what I ate, or if I even liked it, but I remembered the knitted cardigan Bucky wore, the one with the colourful pattern on it. It looked really soft, and I found myself longing to touch it. That wasn’t the moment, though. The exact moment that made me go “Oh shit!” was when I cracked some stupid dad joke, and Bucky unleashed his full laughter on me. Who knew that "Singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth. Then it's a soap opera," would be my doom? But the sound had stunned me, made me lose my voice for several minutes. If someone had opened my skull at that moment, the only thing they would have found was an empty space and a dial tone - my brain frantically trying to reconnect with my body. If I concentrated I could still hear the ringing in my ears.

I avoided him for a week afterwards - well, tried and failed; my work meant contact with the entire Avengers team at all times - but the mental distance hurt too much to keep up with it. Since then, I allowed the realisation to wash over me, causing me both joy and suffering. And I thought I hid it well. Not well enough, apparently, since Natasha sniffed it out. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh again. However, I couldn’t stop my intestines from curling into a tight ball. She had brought Tony into this after all.

Tony’s eyes shone. It had been a long time since any drama unfurled in the compound. He was practically starved, and this… This was delicious.

Looking between them, I knew this wouldn't end well. "You know what? I'm gonna go set up the briefing. Room 705. Thirty minutes. Don't be late." Fishing the phone out of my pocket, I sent a group text to everyone with time and location. In afterthought the wording in the text might have been a tad too harsh, threatening bodily harm if they were late, but the start of the day warranted some sort of reaction leaking from my brain. I locked eyes with Natasha. "Not. A. Word!"

She nodded, but the grin never left her face.

Tony watched me frantically push the elevator button, and I caught him whispering, not knowing I could still hear him. Or maybe he didn't care. "So what's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you have a plan? You're the resident match-maker here, aren't you?"

Nastasha let out a small laugh. "Do you know why she refuses to do anything about it?"

Tony nodded. “Because she’s professional and a bit afraid for what the people at the top are going to say?”

“No. Well, probably that too, but she thinks Bucky is way out of her league. Something about him being a superhero.” She snorted.

“What?” Tony let out a barking laugh. “Why? Bucky’s like the most timid ex-assassin you can find. I mean, he’s basically a cup of soft serve covered in salt and liquorice."

“I know. We gotta get them together. So, uh, are you in?”

“Uh, yeah! What’s your plan?”

The room finally sealed itself around me and I heard nothing else than the back of my head banging against the mirror wall and F.R.I.D.A.Y. cheerfully announcing what floor I was going to.

Half an hour later I had to step out for a bit to fetch a new cable to the projector, and when I got back, almost everyone were seated. My chest hollowed when I spotted Tony and Natasha sitting together, looking very conspiring indeed.

The urge to either run from the room or break them up rose in my throat, but instead I pulled up a chair next to Sam and focused on my breathing. He was one of the most calming people on the team, and I shamelessly used him as a shield.

Other than the small scare in the beginning, the morning briefing went without hitch. Agent Hill presented the upcoming missions, and I marked my calendar accordingly. Apparently SHIELD had detected a new terrorist group forming in northern Europe, and needed eyes.

Natasha was a given, she could go undetected for longer periods of time, and could take care of herself if necessary. Of course, Clint would come with her. They were an amazing team together, and he would probably go anyway, even if he was assigned to another task. It was better just to let him.

Steve and Sam would step in if it came to that, but would have to keep under the radar until they were needed. Bucky would travel to Europe with the others, but I knew he would set off alone the minute they touched ground in Stockholm. He worked best alone, or so he claimed, and anyway it would be an advantage to spread out. Still, I made a note on my pad to make sure he had everything he needed, and then some. Who knew where his road might lead him.

Bruce and Tony would work together to develop a better algorithm for the surveillance. So far, the terrorist group had evaded SHIELD's best efforts to pin them down. I was actually surprised to learn they didn't even know their name, which made me suspect something big was coming.

The rest of the team was assigned to other, smaller missions, scattered across the States. That way they could easily be reassigned if the situation escalated in Europe.

During the meeting, I kept an extra eye on Natasha and Tony. They sat next to each other, and though I thought I saw them passing notes a couple of times, I didn't want to bring any attention to it. The rest of the group looked oblivious. A sigh of relief escaped me, and Natasha looked up. She nodded imperceptibly towards Bucky, who sat with a bored look on his face and a discarded towel by his feet.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, trying my best to stop my ears from buzzing. Suddenly aware of every molecule in the air and trying desperately to ignore the intense weight, I focused all my attention back on Agent Hill’s presentation. Still, Bucky’s presence lingered in the back of my head, and together with the imminent threat from Natasha and Tony, I felt like I was sitting on explosives.

When Maria finally closed her laptop and turned to Director Fury, everybody got up, chatting as if the meeting had been a regular parent-teacher meeting and not a brief on a possible terrorist organisation on the rise.

“Can you believe that people will do things like this?” an agent asked as we all filed out of the room.

“Well, faith is a strong persuader,” I replied with a shrug. “Some are willing to go far for what they believe in.”

“Yeah, but they’re wrong,” the agent continued.

“They’d probably say the same about us,” Sam said, and I nodded.

“There are always two sides to the coin. If not more.”

“But -“

“And then it’s up to us to figure out what to do. We have to look at the big picture. Not everyone is capable of that.” Sam tilted his head with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

The agent huffed and hurried off with a look on his face that either said that he was constipated, or that being schooled by a member of the Avengers was too much for a Wednesday morning.

“Not sure he saw the big picture, Sam.” I shook my head and smiled.

“Don’t think he could. Better hope he doesn’t get promoted soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’ll be on desk duty for years still. And I guess you have a little desk duty yourself right now?”

“Well, actually… I was hoping you could do me a favour.”

Uh-oh. That sounded ominous. “Of course. What can I do, what do you need?” My voice rose to mimic the retail job I had before I got lucky enough to join SHIELD's training and ultimately land my dream job.

Sam grimaced. "I gotta go to Louisiana. Just a short trip, couple of days maybe."

"Shit, don't think Director Fury would be too happy about that right now, not to mention the rest of upstairs. You're supposed to be on silent duty until you leave for Sweden."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just… Cass and AJ has been asking me to come visit. And Sarah's getting sick of their nagging. Also, I sorta promised on the phone yesterday. Didn't know there would be a world crisis today."

Smiling softly, I hid the urge to smack my face into the wall. This was going to take a lot of explaining and string-pulling. He was supposed to go no-contact for the duration of the mission, but I hated disappointing the boys. And Sarah was a good woman. She didn't deserve being let down, even though it technically wasn't Sam's fault this time.

"Sam, you're such a softie," I said after some consideration. "Go. I'll figure something out. Just be back before the weekend, okay? And –"

"Yeah yeah, and I'll come in at once if the situation escalates before we're scheduled to head out."

I gave him a crooked smile to disguise the trouble he had just handed me. "Sure. But I was gonna say bring back some of that pecan pie. I've been dreaming about that since last summer."

Sam let out a loud laugh and kissed the top of my head, melting my nervous soul to a gooey puddle. "You're the best. Thanks."

"Fly safe."

"I always do."

"Really now?"

"Oh so that's how it is, huh?"

"That's how it is. Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."

With a short wave, he took off down the corridor, leaving me quietly screaming and already doing the mental gymnastics to find a solution.

***

Departure time was in two days. Everyone was on edge, trying their best to prepare for any eventualities, both inconceivable and expected. After a short meeting with the departure crew to share the last pieces of intel, I felt empty and tired. Missions always affected me more than they should. These people were my friends; if anything were to happen to them, my world would collapse.

Apparently I wasn't the only one feeling a bit drained. No one was in a hurry to leave, and the conversation was hushed and weary.

"You know what we need?" Tony said loudly, slicing through the silence and winking to Natasha. He thought I wouldn't notice, but I did, and the suspicion grew in my chest. What now?

"Pizza!" they said in unison. "We should gather everyone, before we all go."

Tony nudged my arm. "My treat. What do you say?"

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head. "…sure."

"Oh, don't be like that. We all need good pizza. Especially today, what with all this rain. Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., you know that pizza bakery up the street, the one with the chicken one. Order pizza for everyone. Remember the one with pear, brie, and white sauce. Have it delivered to the lounge."

That did it for me. If he ordered my favourite, I'd be damn sure to eat my part. "When?"

"Uh…" He looked at his watch. "Noon. I'll send out a ping. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I do have a ton of things to do to make sure you guys don't die on this trip." I tried to keep it light, but now that the thought had settled in my mind, I had to fight off the tears. It was a miracle I managed to keep the tremble from my voice.

An hour later I tripped over the doorstep to the lounge, surprised to see it was empty except for Tony and Natasha and a huge stack of pizzas. "Where is everybody?" The door clicked behind me, sealing the silence in.

Natasha shrugged. "Late?"

At that moment the door opened again and Bucky sauntered in with a mischievous smile on his face. "Gimme the pizza and nobody gets hurt."

"Jeez, Buck. Remember your manners. There are ladies present." Tony grinned, but opened the top box and helped himself to a slice.

Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Y/N," he said with an over-the-top flourish. "I hope you can forgive my insolence." He gestured towards the pizzas. "Ladies first."

My heart did a somersault, but I managed to keep it cool on the outside. "Insolence forgiven," I replied, swallowing a hiccough that lodged itself in my throat, before taking a plate and sifting through the boxes until I found the right one. Loading my plate, I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions. Only thing missing now was some candles and a drink, and I'd be set for the day.

Natasha gave Tony a pointed look. Two minutes later he picked up his phone and half jogged out the door. That was odd. Tony never jogged.

I looked between Natasha and the door, the pizza forgotten halfway between the plate and my mouth. She looked anywhere but at me, but was saved from a confrontation by her phone ringing. "Gotta take this," she muttered. "Can't prepare enough for the trip." She smiled apologetically and left the room. That was a lie, of course. She had full control; all intel was already read and destroyed. And if something new had come up, I would have been notified too.

Suddenly the plate felt heavy in my hand. Maybe it was naïve, but I had expected Natasha and Tony to respect my wishes; after all I had made it absolutely clear that they should leave it, hadn't I? Their amusement and entertainment wasn't worth being an inconvenience to Bucky.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked when the door clicked behind Natasha.

"I… I don't know," I lied haltingly.

Bucky shrugged. "Oh well. Might as well catch up on some paperwork before the flight too. See you later." With one slice between his teeth and another in his hand, he left the room with a friendly wave.

"Sure. See you." I spoke to his back; the glass door had already closed behind him. The lump in my throat grew. Even though Tony had ordered my favourite pizza, I no longer had any appetite. My mouth was dry, and it was a struggle to swallow. In a fit of frustration, I kicked the table, smacking my toe in the process. The pizza slice slid from the plate and landed on my thigh. "Fuck!"

"Ooh, pizza!"

I spun in my seat. Steve had just arrived, and that made me feel a little bit better at least. He was always a laugh.

"Where is everybody?" He looked around and spotted my moping figure, holding an equally sad slice of pizza. "You okay?"

"I guess," I replied, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Everybody else left. The mission, yeah?"

"Right. I thought everything was planned and okayed."

I couldn't bring myself to fill him in on the situation. If he didn't already know, it was nice to have someone neutral by my side. "Yeah, I don't know."

Their scheme was becoming clear; making Bucky spend time with me alone. But it was a failure. Even he thought it was awkward, and he obviously didn't want to be alone with me. Not that I blamed him. If I was him, I'd do the same.

I glanced at my watch. 12.30. Just then Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and Vision spilled into the room, heading towards the pizza like a herd of hungry goats. Slowly my appetite returned too, and half an hour later the blow to my heart was a painful memory pushed to the back of my mind by excellent pizza and wonderful friends.

Later that day I ran into Tony on the way to the garage. He tried to slip past me, but had to stop when I blocked the door, arms crossed over my chest and puffing myself up as much as I could. "Seriously, Tony! What did you expect to happen, huh? That I'd just throw myself in his arms because we were alone? Because newsflash: I've got both self-control and decency. Do you really think I've never been alone with him before?"

At least he had the decency to look thoroughly chastised, and he mumbled something inaudible I thought maybe sounded like an apology.

No way he was getting away with a tiny one. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"It was Nat's idea," he said, trying a smirk that didn't work at all.

"I very much doubt that," I replied, dragging a hand over my eyes. "Do I have to call Pepper? I didn't think so," I added when he shook his head. "Do better! Now excuse me. I have a lot of work to do to ensure you actually don't die on this mission." With a final, exaggerated frown, I turned and marched out of the room, ignoring the samba in my chest.

Part 2: Eel infested waters

[miracleonice87]

’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

AM

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take. 

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.” 

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of  Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him. 

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.  

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

adventure time wizard city liveblog

 well here we go

my last adventure time liveblog, i havent actually done one of these in MANY years... probably not since 2014

this takes place at the same time as obsidian?

DID-- DID CHOOSE GOOSE JUST DIE

DID BUFO JUST KILL CHOOSE GOOSE

yeah i know that’s bufo, they only made it enormously obvious, tsk tsk

@spaceacepearl​ joked about us seeing choose goose get sent to hell but i diDNT EXPECT IT TO HAPPEN

This music is i assume by one of the many musical artists Adam Muto listed on twitter, it rocks. It’s not as hardcore as Obsidian’s intro, but it’s suitably chill for the scene. 

“get offa my bus kid”

Those wizards in the left and far right groups appear to be new! 

OH MY GOD--

HELP?????? NEW PROFILE PIC TIME

HAHAHAHAH

THE MUSICAL CON DID ME GOOD, I DID REALLY LOUD AUDIBLE LAUGHTER

i bet hanna and co had fun making these signs

my favourite is the cat with “FAMILIARS HAVE RIGHTS”

cadorka..... wow

We’re not even four minutes into the ep and peppermint butler has already killed someone in front of a large group of witnesses

“this smells of DARK MAGIC” “yall kids know thats illegal right” peps watches the other kids nod before later joining in, LOL

i cant believe pep started the great gum wars and got killed by golb

SOMEONE has been playing Overwatch... 

i-- i still cant believe choose goose is fucking dead

how long was he stuck in hell for, or was that recent to together again after new death showed up 

i have to admit im not a big fan of spader, too perfect, and not in that funny way either. i hope they give him some characteristics that make him stand out. 

im getting flashbacks to OK KO and Owl House here...

Cadebra using music is a reference to Abracadaniel’s love of interpretetive dance in Play Date. 

“they only laugh because youre different” “i know” “SO STOP BEING DIFFERENT” oh my god it’s like talking to my own parents cadebra is actually... a LOT like me, less in her hyperactivity but more in her nonchalant enthusiasm and almost acceptance of the inevitable bullying because it means more time in people’s consciousness

ahhh - it’s quietly revealed here that she is responsible and a skilled magician, she is just bored of magic! i like that she parents abracadaniel instead of being downtrodden by his ramblings. 

PEP NO--- oh i see the problem, he hasn’t got his Bug Milk... sorry Martin Olsen fans, no Hunson today. At least we get one more Phil Face for the road! 

candy people in their natural habitat

Ahhh that’s Doctor Calidoneus! The voice actor was at the recent Distant Lands panel alongside Pep and Blaine’s actors. 

“pretty sure hes just trashcandy” - i like you, sassy antler lady

the mystery of how he gets clothes

and once again spader is proving to be the most irritating distant lands character of the lot, there is no subversion here. where is the subversion?  

NANI

what is going on here? are pep and peppermint the same person or not? im sure they must be, but there is something going on here with peppermint butler’s soul being trapped in the body of his child self who hasn’t got the same memories. 

OH, HYNDEN WALCH DID A NEW LINE yes this is what im here for, special over 

peppermint butler cursed himself... of course he did - Shado was correct!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

ROCK STUDENT, BLESSED ROCK STUDENT, WAS THAT POOR GUY WHO LOOKS LIKE A JAWBREAKER

love the reference to astral plane, of course pep cant astrally project because cursed pep is still inside of him 

wow, blaine, wow

they have a crush

LITTLE DUDE! COLE SANCHEZ!

i love the dynamic between cadebra and abracadaniel, imo so far it’s the heart of the special. im not really gripped by peppermint butler’s school troubles. i imagine someone else probably will be but i want to run past that shit as far as possible. 

TRDGFYGHJH

WE

WE MADE  A PREDICTION THAT WAS JUST LIKE THIS

PEPPERMINT BUTLER GETTING TURNED INTO THE FOUR COMPONENTS OF PEPPER MINT BUTT LURE WAS IN THE WIZARD CITY PREDICTIONS ART DRAW THAT HASNT BEEN POSTED YET

ILL SHOW YOU WHEN NICK POSTS THE VIDEO and then ill tell you who made the prediction because i... think it was nick himself, insanity 

who plagiarized finn’s signature???

turns out pep really DID take over wizard city!!!!

i love this band

i understand your pain peps

you probably have a bit too much in common with your mother, and i imagine it isn’t easy being turned into a kid and not being able to do stuff that came so easy. you’re disappointing yourself! (he’s literally disappointing himself)

I’m less than halfway through the special, what the fuck. I wasn’t wrong when I said Wizard City had a lot on its plate. It’s noit that I’ve been particularly gripped up to this point, though to be fair I didn’t pause at all during the other specials barring Obsidian. 

that... that poor kid is still a rock

and then the preview happened and bufo casually revealed to the audience that, yes, he killed choose goose

i dont know whats happening with pep but it seems he needs to be exorcised of... pep. which is a shame. i hope they learn to coexist. 

i have to say the background work in this special is really good! like, really damn good. 

WH

WHAT

DID SPADER JUST DIE

IS THIS WHY PEOPLE THINK PEPBUT KILLED HIM 

oh thats right - abracadaniel is cadebra’s uncle! this must be abracadniels sister. sorry, folks, he doesn’t fuck. 

Where are they? Is this anywhere near Wizard City? It’s an unpopulated prewar wasteland. 

THESE ARE JUST HUMANS

OF COURSE SHE WANTS TO PERFORM TO MILQUETOAST HUMANS

my child

is this an art style choice or did they get the people from that one studio to make this

HANNA FINALLY GETS TO FULFIL HER DREAM OF INSERTING KANEDA INTO ADVENTURE TIME

the red jacket he wears and his head pill shape is a big kaneda reference actually, which i suppose makes sense considering he’s a rival to our protagonist, but it’s a bit on the nose

bufo killed one of his own students? but why????

“MY UNCLE’S A COP”

“no one likes a rat”

i actually really like blaine, though im confused. did their VA change halfway through the special?

HOW NATURAL, NO WASTE, IT IS AN ENDLESS CHAIN

did doctor caledonius steal the trophy,,,? 

EVIL SNAIL EVIL SNAIL

MONMSTER HUNJTER DISCOVERY NOISE, this time it’s a tetsucabra

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I HAVE QUESTIONS

god i wish this is what this special was about, i miss adventure time

these remind me of the comics with their art style :) i wonder who designed them? the one on the right with pb and pep, in particular, very comics-y. 

fdgfhgf because he’s like 500

“pep can be kind of a jerk but he wouldn’t kill anyone”

sorry, cadebra, i have news for you

is doctor calednoius the true villain? if bufo’s out of the picture, she MUST be, 

ANTS

oh no, he might gbe stuck in wizard city :( 

HELP

the writing on the wall...

SPADER LITERALLY FUCKING DIED OH YM JESUS CHRIST

PEPPERMINT BUTLER’S OWN CULT????

THIS IS JUST OK KO NOW

okay im not surprised all the teachers at wizard city are cultists in worship of peps, maybe they killed spader and bufo because they bullied peps T_T

wait no, they thought spader had the potential, but sadly not

HE FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF

sorry, i was distracted by the pretty dope fight sequence and now the special is over????

fucking jesse, hes probably at least partly responsible for the cult nonsense

This credits art is by Maya Petersen!!!! Holy shit it’s adorable!

LRETGFDRGTFGMHGFHFG

LEAF MAN

DO YOU THINK THEY PUT HIM IN RETROSPECTIVELY

DO YOU THINK MAYA PETERSEN DREW THIS AND ADAM PUT IT IN THE EP RETROSPECTIVELY

HE LIVES

MAYBE THIS IS WHY CHOOSE GOOSE WENT TO HELL

okay, it’s over :) 

first thoughts out of the way: not a big fan of this special. it’s like watching a completely different show. it’s not got the PZSHAHH of the normal wizard city stuff and there weren’t a lot of funny jokes or even hearty moments in the thing. 

it suffers from a lack of invested character interactions, much like BMO did. there was not a single main cast member in the whole thing! and like i said before, much of peppermint butler’s character in the show is based on his very sweet relationship to his mother, princess bubblegum, so when they showed a single (hilarious) photo of them together it made me sad we didn’t get any scenes with them together. it would have STOLEN this episode. and they teased the hunson golf photo, and death!!! and jake appeared in a photo T_T last jake appearance. 

it also suffers because Peppermint Butler is clearly not himself, imo he was way more entertaining in the Together Again special, where we seem him back to his “normal” self. 

i dont think peps being a dark wizard was something to “kill off” exactly. i wonder what was going on there? was that actually peps, or was that a spirit he cursed himself with based on himself? we at least know in the future he does become a dark wizard again, and even princess :) this special didn’t answer those questions but lol. 

THE GOOD STUFF, because yes, there was a lot of good stuff! 

God, I’m with Aracle and Maya on this - I LOVE Cadebra and her relationship to Pep. I wish she was even in more of this - I would love to watch the adventures of Cadebra and Pepbut in their first year of school, like in the end credits.

That, imo, is where the heart of the special lay - Peppermint Butler’s attempts to impress himself, versus Cadebra’s self acceptance and desire to follow her dreams of being a goofy goober, no matter what other people thought of her. 

It turned out that Cadebra is a responsible student and family member. I really liked that. Her scenes with Abracadaniel were, somehow, my favourite in the entire special! 

I like that theres a lot of cool magic towards the end of this special, and a lot of HORRIFYING DEATH. It wouldn’t be adventure time if you didn’t randomly kill off child characters. Poor Spader, I hated you but damn, what a grim fate. 

I like that Bufo and Caledonius had this crush/hatred thing going on, but they were part of the same cult in the end. 

I didn’t like the giant peps scene at the end, the monster was extremely milquetoast compared to the madness we usually get in AT. Obsidian, for example, had the awesome Larvo design. Nemesis had some INSANE dark magic!!!!  I wish they drew more from that episode. 

Considering how much Steve Little appears in this special, I do feel bad for Mace (little Peps). He said he would have really benefitted from coaching, but recieved none. He had to re-record his lines 3 times! Judging from his description of events, Wizard City was a hard time for him. 

The wizard school did remind me, heavily, of both The Owl House and OK KO. Personally I was hoping AT would offer me something more insane, but I do love both of those shows, and I know Wizard City was on a really tight schedule. 

I think they should have spent less time on the school bullying plot, and skipped straight to MURDER. 

We did have a cold opening, not on par with Together Again’s at all, but damn!

I am wondering where I would put this in the watch list? I do think it should sit after Obsidian as the third special. The intro scene makes it clear this takes place at the same time as Obsidian!!!

Well, that was it, the last ep of AT for the next few years at least T_T

i think together again was the better finale, definitely. but wizard city feels pretty detached from AT for me, despite the familiar characters it tonally isn’t like the show other than the awesome brutal death scenes. I thought the last 11 minutes was easily the best in the special! Which, honestly, is how it should be, though I do wish it gripped me more. Maybe I’m just not the target audience for Wizard City? It feels like something I would find very compelling if I was a bit younger! 

[juminly]

Nights Like These

Summary: A nice cozy movie night with timeskip! Iwaizumi Hajime.  Tags: Mostly Fluff & Smut towards the end. Warning: Smut starts after the “♥♥♥” and includes fingering and cockwarming.

–♥– 

Hajime knew that you loved mac and cheese. He had enough skills to be able to be able to whip up something nice and yummy for you after you've had such a long day and especially since you haven’t had an actual “date” in so long. Living on his own in the US for a few years did have its perks and this was one of them: he was a grown ass man who knew his way well enough in the kitchen to be able to cook for you. Sighing loudly, dark orbs stared for a few seconds at the smart watch strapped to his wrist then back at the pot in front of him. He was looking forward to seeing you more than anything. Being the athletic trainer of the national Japanese team was no ordinary feat and it took up a lot of his time and energy. But, that didn't mean that it would take up the time that you deserved, the time that you both needed. Being always so hyper-focused on his own work, his thoughts tended to drift off quite often to you, just thinking about the last few phone calls you had, the last few texts you sent him and the things you've done in your last few dates. He missed the way you sighed when he played with your hair... God, he loved playing with your hair, twirling your curls in his fingers. It wasn't even the agreed time for your date but he was anxious to see you. He wouldn't admit it to you though, not even to himself. The loud and strong thrumming of his heart in his chest was a big reminder of how much he loved you. He was smitten. No, ever worse! or better? He couldn't even think straight anymore, he was whipped for you and... Ring! Ring! Ring! Three rings. That's your own way of letting him know that it was you and he just absolutely loved it when you did that. If it were anyone else at the door, he wouldn't have been rushing towards it the way he had and flung it open just to see your face.

"Princess." The corner of his lips just curled up out of their own volition, didn't even ask for permission but they didn't even have to. You were here and he wouldn't have it any other way. Why was he acting and feeling like such a schoolboy? He didn't even care. What he cared about was why you were still not throwing your arms around him. "Come here, you." Leaning forward, he took your hand in his and pulled you in for a hug, squeezing his arms tightly around your waist, supporting your weight as you literally balanced yourself on the tip of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him back. He nuzzled your neck only for a brief moment, leaving a gentle kiss there and before you murmured in a wondering tone. "Cheesy?" He couldn't help but stiffen for a brief moment. Did you figure out what he had prepared for you? Or even worse, Hajime would be completely mortified if you thought he was cheesy or corny at any point and you didn't like it. Not that he was a man of many words but he always made sure that any word coming out of his mouth meant something. At least when it came to you. He didn't give two fucks when it came to the guys, they could all whimper and cry for all he cared. Nobody meant more to him than you. The click of your tongue snapped him out of his racing thoughts and that giggle... that same glorious and marvellous sound that made him turn his head the first time you met, that time when your eyes locked and he knew that he had to talk to you, even if one of the players on the team had to be used as a wingman just to be able to get a word in with you. "Babe-" You laughed softly. "What's going on in that head of yours? Are you daydreaming about me when I'm in your arms?" With a long sigh, you mumbled and seemed a bit disgruntled, which obviously made the furrow between Hajime's eyebrows even deeper. "If that's the case, then I can just leave. Is daydreaming about me better than real me?" He knew you were joking but how dare you use that pouty tone on him?

"I won't answer your first question. You'll have to wait and see for yourself. But-" Pressing his hand on the small of your back, his other hand inched down to grip you by the waist as his lips hovered against your own, his breath fanning over your lips, tickling them lightly just as a tingling sensation arose in both your chests. "Do you really think I would call you over if I didn't want you right where you are right now?" Closing the distance between you, he loses himself in the little taste of sweetness he could get from a chaste gentle kiss of your lips. It was hard for him to even contain himself or exercise any form of control when he's around you. "Right here in my arms." He murmurs softly before going back in for another kiss, a little bit deeper, a tiny bit more passionate as he molds your lips together, sucking on your bottom one before breaking away once again. Gazing down on you as you both try to catch your breath from the small loving exchange, Hajime stared down at your cheeks that were now painted with the most adorable blush, his heart swelling with giddiness that he was the one responsible for such a reaction from you. "Come on, we're watching The Princess Bride tonight and I better not hear any objections from you." He smiled as he saw yet another giggle from you, even as you rolled your eyes and told him that you've already seen it a thousand times before and you didn't even know why he wanted to watch it with you. Silencing you with a small peck, his usual frown was still on that handsome face of his but his gaze was soft and endearing. "I want to know more about the things that you love so you'll have to humour me for tonight, baby girl."

Kissing your cheek, his hand finds yours and he guides you to the living room, pulling you away from the kitchen since he knew that was the destination you had in mind. You always wanted to give him a hand when it came to literally anything but when it came to your dates or your time together, Hajime wanted to show that he wanted to do things for you. It was simply his love language. A language that was created since he met you. "Thanks for coming over. I know it was last minute but the guys' practice match got postponed so I decided to cut them some slack." - he chuckled before meeting your eyes that were now crinkling with laughter - "Not that I don't plan on kicking their ass later anyway. Gotta make sure they are in top shape and remember who's the one making the rules." Once he ensured that you were seated, he threw you a glance of warning over his shoulder as he walked out to the kitchen. "You better sit tight princess while I go get the food. I'll be right back." He winked at you and chuckled at the way you squirmed slightly and busied yourself with the remote control as he prepared your dinner for you. Hajime had his own way of showing his love and spoiling you. The man wanted to make sure that he followed through. Making you feel special, trying to show but a sliver of how he truly felt about you. Sighing loudly and after ensuring that the pasta was thoroughly cooked, he meticulously dumped it in a bowl, big enough to fit 6 servings of mac and cheese and brought two plates along with him to the living room.

As "The Princess Bride" began playing, you both dug into your food and being the humble fellow that he was, Hajime didn't dare comment on the food but he did find it quite... acceptable, to say the least. On the other hand, the look on your face when you saw what he had cooked for you was worth all the effort. He didn't use the basic Kraft Dinner mac and cheese, even though it was basically your favourite. However, he just wanted to do just a little bit extra for you, add his own touch : a four cheese mac and cheese with the finest pasta from a local Italian shop that he always ate at and even took you to a few times. The first few bites etched an expression of pure bliss on your face and that drew a shit eating grin on his face, one that you didn't even get the chance to see as you were too busy filling in your plate with a second serving. While you munched on your food and whispered about your favourite scenes from time to time, Hajime tried his best to keep his attention on the movie but you were much more entertaining that it was while you recited almost every single line that resounded from the TV. He wished he could turn it off and just watch you act out the movie and tell him about everything you love about it, he wouldn't have minded that at all.

He chuckled under his breath at the look of amazement on your face when you both managed to finish and lick clean all the contents of the pot. He just let you believe that you ate more than him - just for shits and giggles - when he was also devouring whatever he could from the food (about 4.5 servings - the man works out A LOT, okay? Don't judge-). Nobody could blame him, it was fucking delicious and he was proud that you loved something that he made with his own two hands. Taking a short clean-up/bathroom break, Hajime cozied up on the couch, checking all the stupid emojis and texts he received from the Olympic team. How did they even know that he was on a date with you? The texts and emojis on the group chat ranged from: "Ya betta get it on tonight, Iwa-chan~ Ya frown too much cause ya don't get laid enough!" - Atsumu, the wannabe Shittykawa. "WAT R U GOING TO BE DOING ON UR DATE? WILL IT BE FUN? MAYBE I CAN COME!? I LUV UR GF" - Hinata, the sweet sunshine boy bordering on annoying but too pure to be so, Hajime had to admit that he had a soft spot for him and the rowdy wing spiker who followed up with a text of his own. "WE'RE COMING OVER IN 1H TO HANG OUT WITH U! WE MISS HER SO MUCH!", Bokuto's follow-up did nothing but make the trainer's blood boil with imminent rage. If those two dimwits dared to even ring the bell of his condo, Japan can say goodbye to their favourite chaotic duo.

Putting in an Airpod in his left ear, Hajime began recording the most graphically violent threat he could muster on the group chat and stuttering mid-way through the voice note. Yes, Hajime Iwaizumi stuttered out of surprise and YOU were the only one who could catch this man off-guard as you walked back into the living room wearing nothing but one of his T-shirts. He barely managed a quick "I gotta go", clicked send without looking at the screen, blinked and gawked at you with a baffled frown.  "What happened to your clothes?" "Well~ Things did get a little messy in the kitchen and while I...-" You cleared your throat and bit your bottom lip, definitely not trying to turn him on. Sarcasm alert. "-kinda made things worse so I borrowed one of your T-shirts. I hope you don't mind." He simply shook his head, mumbling a husky "It's fine, what's mine is yours" and patted the seat next to him. His frown only grew deeper when you walked closer to him but made no sign of actually sitting down. Looking up at you, he could see the bright flush spreading across your cheeks when you pointed to his lap. "Is that seat taken?"

His eyebrow perked up in amusement along with a mirthful smirk, your bottom lip remaining a prisoner between your teeth. "Be my guest. Who am I to refuse a request from my princess." He chuckled as he grabbed your hand, pulling you into his lap and you squirmed in embarrassment, the feeling of your well-defined butt rubbing against him, those supple cheeks that his crotch was getting well acquainted with. The accidental groan that escaped his lips was a definite warning to stop what you were doing or continue at your own risk.

"If you keep wiggling your ass on me like that, you're gonna have to own up to your actions, sweetheart." His rough baritone was telling of the growing desire he had for you. He hadn't seen you in so long and he was starved for your touch, as if the soft brush of his calloused fingers on your thighs was no indication to his underlying intentions. He knew how sensitive you were and he was not above taking advantage of that fact, the slight shiver that ran over your body only urged on him, wanting to coax even more of these delicious reactions from you. 

♥♥♥ "Iwa-" Before you could even finish calling his name, his lips were on yours, nipping at your bottom one and sucking deeply before licking his way into your mouth, tasting the freshness of mint from his mouthwash as he entangled his tongue with your own, groaning loudly into your mouth. Breaking only for a moment, he demanded your attention as his fingers began to meander up your inner thighs, wasting no time to slide his index and middle over your panties, a clear wet spot forming and drenching the fabric slowly..

"If this is what you've wanted all along, you should've just said so, you naughty princess." Pushing your panties aside with his other hand, he deftly parted your folds and circled his fingers over your entrance, gathering up your slickness before lathering over your slit, barely grazing your swelling clit that desperately needed his attention. Seeing how you held your breath and stiffened in his embrace made him only want to do even more to you. This is not the type of quality time he had in mind but he was definitely not going to object to it. "Baby girl..." He crooned huskily as one of his hands rubbed up and down one of your thighs, making sure that your legs remained parted so that he could finger you good enough, prep you for what he had in mind. Before capturing your lips once again, he licked the seams of your lips, demanding that your eyes meet his own as he murmured against you. "You call me by my name, baby. You're royalty to me, after all." He smiled softly as you responded in kind, calling out his name and pulling him in a deep kiss, your hips slowly beginning to rut against his fingers that had yet to turn things up a notch. "Hajime..." You whimpered shakily against his lips, his warm breath fanning over your wet lips as his thumb rolled over your sensitive bud, moving clockwise and counter-clockwise, fast and slow with just the right amount of pressure to leave you with fighting to catch your breath. With two fingers right at your entrance, he watches you with avid interest, humming in satisfaction every time a moan escapes your lips, his own hips grinding involuntarily against your behind as his own erection begins to harden under your squirming figure.

"Hajime, I want you inside me... Please, stop teasing me!" You squeal while your nails dug into his shoulders, gripping those thick muscles tightly, while his own body tensed, betraying the composure that he desperately tried to maintain. His large biceps flexing as he squeezes his arms around you even tighter, trying to cease the negligible movement of your body that is driving him insane.

"Shush, baby. I'll treat you good. Just relax." Finally plunging in his fingers inside you, he swallows your moans with a searing kiss while you cried out into his mouth, his thick digits thrusting in and out of you and curling into you, your inner walls clamping down on them and sucking him in. With every roll of your hips, he met you with a thrust of his own, his fingers knuckle-deep, reaching that sweet stop that has you keening, so damn close to falling apart.

Your lips parted with a loud wet noise, his chest heaving with bated breath, his state reflecting your own but it didn't change the fact that you were feeling even needier when he cruelly removed his fingers from your core. Your frustrated whine didn't elicit any reaction from him but, contrary to his exterior, he could feel his body bursting with heat and it became unbearable. He exhaled loudly, patting your thigh and growling in your ear. "Get up and take your clothes off, baby girl. I'm not getting inside you until you do."

Hurriedly taking off his shirt in one smooth go and just in time to watch you reach for the hem of the oversized shirt, pulling it up in a rush, exposing more and more of your smooth skin. Fuck... he wanted to mark you all up but the twitching of his cock straining against his pants urged him to do so later. There were more pressing matters to attend to and right now, he just wanted to drink you all in. Licking his lips with a desire only you could sate, the darkness of his unquenchable thirst swimming in his orbs almost too much to handle, yet you still kept your gazes locked as you unclipped your bra, letting it fall to the floor while he fumbled with his belt, unzipping his pants and freeing his aching length with a loud hiss. The way you squeezed your legs together didn't go unnoticed and he knew that he left you hanging. "Come here, baby." As you inched closer to him, Hajime placed one large hand on either side of your hips, guiding you before him as you placed one knee on the couch and then another to straddle him, giving him a glimpse of your dripping core that was so ready for the taking while you wrapped your arms around his neck. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he latched on to the crook of your neck, sucking on your soft skin deeply while sweet moans tumbled so easily from your quivering lips. "I've had enough, Hajime. I promise... Just please... I want you inside me." You pleaded as his warm hands settled on your butt, fondling your soft cheeks while he angled you right on top of his cock, groaning against your neck. "You're so perfect. I fucking missed you so much." With his fingertips digging into your soft flesh, he eases you onto his cock, sheathing himself fully inside you as you sink onto him, both of you moaning in harmony as your cunt clamped down on every single inch of him that you could take.

For a few moments, both of you remained silent, your forehead pressed against his bare shoulders and his own lying on the crown of your head. The silence of the room was filled with your heavy breathing as you allowed the fullness of your bodies, the fullness of your hearts washed over you and enveloped you completely. Neither of you wanted to move or even dared to, even though your instincts screamed to grind against one another and chase the release that you both wanted. But it wasn't what you really needed. This moment, the intimacy, this... love. "W-what about the movie?" You breathed out shakily against his arm, giggling softly while you began nibbling on the hardness of his bicep. He knew that you weren't even mildly concerned with the movie which made him chuckle out a deep laugh that rumbled in his chest. You... You never failed to those stupid butterflies flutter in his stomach with your cute little acts of possession.

He wore your love bites with pride and didn't mind that they were in a place that was even more visible than his neck. He licked a long strip on the column of your throat, decorating it with nips of his own, marks of his love and yearning for you while his hands sought your breasts, kneading them with tenderness. Even if words betrayed him most of the time, he trusted his actions to speak for him. "There's nothing better than watching you, princess."

–♥– 

Please feel free to leave comments/feedback!💜  Masterlist

Tagging @shhhlikeme @hqissodelicate @cleverlittlevixen (I hope you enjoy your movie night with your boo :*) 💜 

[liddolwhynot2000]

Hey! So, I was wondering if I could get a levi x reader where the reader runs the tea shop levi goes to to get his tea and they slowly become friends before realizing they’ve fallen in love with eachother?

Aiii one of my first fic supporters ⭐ I'm so sorry for answering this so late. But I got you.

Here we goo. I hope it lives up to your expectations! @dove-music

____________________________________

Apricity

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Summary:

After all, Levi had gotten into a relationship.

With a woman who baked cookies and drew his face on them for fun.

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Pairings: Levi/Reader

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Genre: fluff, romance, Levi-does-not-know-romance, kinda funny

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If Levi had to pick any place in the world that gave made him feel something akin to contentment, it would be the little tea shop that was a 10 minute walk from the Survey Corps.

It wasn't some big, fancy cafe, overcrowded with civilians and soldiers, like other establishments were. A small, cosy little shop in the corner of the street. The shop made good business, he could tell, with its modest furnishing and quality to tea.

He had stumbled upon it in a dire time of need- right after losing his beloved friends to titans. He had accepted that he would stay in the survey corps but he hadn't been willing to make friends at the time. He didn't want to get drunk with his fellow soldiers, or visit brothels. He had just wanted some quiet.

Levi had been walking along the street by himself, in the dark, when he had stumbled upon that cafe. It had been on a whim that he had decided to go inside and actually order something.

He would try to convince himself that it was a one time thing, that he was simply trying some of the luxuries the surface had to offer. But one time turned into two, two turned into ten and so on.

He was rewarding himself with good tea, Levi told himself, that was why he kept coming back. He fought titans for humanity, the least he could do was use his paycheck to buy himself a nice beverage every once in a while. It was treat to himself.

The sweet owner of the cafe had nothing to do with this. Nothing at all.

Yeah sure Levi nobody believes you

Shut up four eyes or else-

____________________________________

'Sir, here you go.'

'.. I didn't order this.'

Levi looked at the plate set infront of him with indifference, although a part of him wondered if it would taste as good as it looked. It was a chocolate cake slice, with some sort of white cream on it.

'It's on the house sir.'

He looked at you, feeling bewildered at the sight of your smiling face. Was this sort of shit normal in the surface? Just giving each other food? There had to be some sort of catch right?

'.. What do you want?'

You blinked at him in confusion.

'Er- nothing sir. We sometimes give free meals to customers. You're the lucky customer this week.'

Levi felt compelled to ask one more time.

'So I owe you nothing for this?'

'Absolutely nothing.'

'Right... Thanks.'

There was no more clarification he could ask for, not when you had used that firm tone. You excused yourself and walked away, leaving Levi to his treat.

Huh. The people here weren't so bad after all.

Maybe he would come back to try some more dishes later.

It's not to see you again hell no stop it Hange- it's NOT-

____________________________________

He later finds out that you're the owner of the cafe. You could just hire help and let others manage the cafe, but you prefer handling it yourself. Levi can't help liking that- so many people would just sit on their asses, but you're actually working hard.

He doesn't get around to going to the cafe again until a month later. It's after a grueling expedition and he's beyond irritated with everyone. For some reason, they've started calling him 'humanity's strongest' and frankly, Levi finds it to be a dumb title.

Becuase even with all his strength, he hadn't been able to save everyone.

Wanting to get away from overeager comrades and a sugar high Hange (somebody give moblit a raise poor boi), Levi decides to head to the cafe.

Yet again, you're the one who welcomes him. He silently thanks you when you seat him in the corner of the shop, an area where hardly anyone would see him and he wouldn't have to see anyone else. You had perhaps understood from his uniform and exhausted face that he wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone, so you had hand him the menu and quietly tell him you'll be back in five minutes.

Once you get him his chosen tea, you also quietly leave a plate of another desert with it. This time, Levi doesn't bother asking questions. He nods at you gratefully before allowing himself to indulge in the delicacy infront of him.

He can't help but want to ask your name.

Aww Levi you drew a heart on that paper with her name on it-

No what the fuck YOU drew that four eyes-

___________________________________

He frequents the cafe at least twice a month for the next five years. It's become a tradition of sorts, going there after a tiresome mission, enjoying a meal made by you. You don't always let him have food for free of course, but it's often at a discounted rate. And as someone who has never enjoyed any privelege whatsoever in his entire life, he guards the special consideration you show him close to his heart.

The two of you don't interact much at the start, but Levi notices you. The way you give your workers decent time off, how you don't hesitate in offering monetary help or letting someone take the day off, even if it means you're overworked. He hasn't talked to you much, but he has a good opinion of you. He finds you fascinating, the first speck of kindness he's seen in his life, since Isabel and her desire to free a bird. Levi doesn't bother approaching you directly, because he doesn't even know what to say.

The two of you have a full interaction six months into his routine, the day Levi accidentally stays till its closing time. It had been good luck on your part--that when the drunk garrison soldiers had stumbled into your cafe will less then innocent intentions, Levi had been there to deal with them. As far as the garrisons were concerned, it had been the worst night of their lives. No amount of alcohol would ever be enough to make them forget what had happened.

Look at you, so protective of your woman even then-Levi where did you get that knife from--wait no - Erwin HELP-

He strikes a tentative friendship with you after that. You had been beyond thankful for his intervention, knowing you might not have made it out with your life if he hadn't been there. You made him cookies the next day, coming all the way to headquarters to give them to him.

Much to his despair, you meet his self proclaimed friend--Hange, and the two of you become friends too. He tries not to mind it, however, the day Hange flashes a cookie with what is clearly his frowning face drawn on it, he has to be held back by five soldiers from throwing Hange out the window. He marches to cafe, intending on letting out his ire at your insolence. But somehow, he doesn't tell you off like he had planned. Instead he finds himself asking you about your baking and art skills-even he would admit that the drawing of him had been spot on.

He does ban from making them again. You honoured it, until the two of you became good friends. Suddenly, every holiday involves at least one tray of grumpy Levi cookies. Even Erwin had enjoyed them, much to his exasperation. It had lead to his vow of never trying one.

They tasted amazing, I really think you should have tried them- OUCH that hurt shorty-

It doesn't take long till he finds himself purposefully visiting at closing time, knowing you'll just make yourself make a meal too, sit nearby and read a book. You engage him in conversation at times, telling him about the books you read. The two of you bond over food and fictional stories. He let's his walls down for you, little by little. You end up becoming the first person he let's in, his first friend, since the death of Isabel and Farlan.

Levi likes to think they would have liked you.

It's nice, spending time with you. You don't look at him like he's some God with all the solutions, like his comrades do. You aren't in some high risk career where he'd have to worry about you dying. You're stable and peaceful, exactly where you are.

Everytime he sets out for an expedition, he mentally prepares himself for not making it back without at least half his cormades. When it comes to you, his friend, he has no worries. You're safely tucked away in your cafe, out of reach from the titans grasp.

'friend' sure Levi, you write love letters for your friends.

Four eyes where the fuck did you get those from, give them back-

___________________________________

It's a peaceful day, as evidenced by the birds chirping and general pleasant atmosphere. One could say the weather is perfect. Just the right amount of sunshine shining in the streets, children enjoying themselves, chasing each other.

Even Levi is in a good mood. Of course, his good mood is amplified by his current location. His favorite cafe.

He's sitting inside, but the windows are open, letting in fresh air. He has a nice cup of tea on the table, with a plate full of sandwiches. You were seated in front of him, drinking some tea so sweet he could smell it.

You're telling him about a book, how you've analysed its villainous characters. He enjoys listening to you, often finding your ability to guage complex characters with relative ease to be startling. It makes him trust you more, knowing that no matter how fucked up something occurs, you wouldn't take it at face value.

You wouldn't judge him like that.

The two of you are interrupted as the bell chimes and someone enters the cafe. It's a young man, maybe in his 20s. He's dressed well, a white shirt with a brown vest on top. You put down the book down and smile as you go to greet him.

Suddenly, Levi doesn't feel as peaceful as before. He keep his eyes to his tea but his ears are perked up as he listens to you chatter with the man.

'Hello. Its been a while eh?'

'It has. I've been in Wall Sina getting some work done. Finally finished it, those damn nobles ask us for way too much-'

The man places an order for a bag of biscuits, ones you had already made. You give him a discount, which Levi smugly notes isn't even half of what he gets, and he tells you he has to leave soon. Levi's relieved really, he doesn't know what he's feeling, but he knows he doesn't like him.

'.. Maybe next time, I could take you out on a date...'

Even though you gently reject the man, who takes it well, Levi can't stop frowning. Once you take your place in infront of him again and continue your explaination, he turns his attention back to you and tries to brush off that feeling in his gut.

But it doesn't work.

____________________________________

When Levi had been taken in under Kenny's (questionable) care, he had learned a lot of things from the man. How to hold a knife, how to break bones, make deals, the sex talk that Levi would like to never remember etc. Kenny had taught him plenty of life skills.

However, his methods had been crazy to say the least. More often then not, Levi found himself on the recieving end of sparring sessions where he was sent flying into trash cans and expected to get up and attack again. Kenny had been ruthless, but it had been for his own good. He wouldn't have survived that hell hole otherwise.

Levi recalled a specific moment in his early days of being with Kenny all too clearly. He hadn't fully understood why Kenny was making him train like this, and frankly, he had been exhausted being treated like a punching bag. In his anger, he had yelled at Kenny, half crying, about how his mother would never let him get hurt like this and how much he missed her.

Kenny had stared at him blankly for a minute once he had finished, and with the speed of lightning, the man had punched him in the stomach.

It had been extremely painful, taking his breath away. Kenny had then proceeded to beat him senseless--telling him what would happen if he wasn't strong enough with each blow.

He would always remember that pain for the rest of his life. Nothing had ever come close to it, or at least that's what he had thought.

But right now, sitting at his desk late at night, Levi feels like Kenny had punched him in the gut again. He was, yet again, experiencing a feeling he would never forget. It wasn't pain, but it's intensity was just the same.

Love.

..sittin in a tree, K I S S I N- AHHH

Section Commander, are you okay!? How did you fall down the stairs??

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Levi and the rest of the soldiers had the night off, and while usually he was more inclined to simply stay away from their parties, he allowed his squad to drag him. It had, as expected, turned out to be a mistake. Everyone had been too drunk. Especially his squad.

When Olou began singing, Levi listened with mild amusement. His voice actually hadn't been too bad.

When Gunther and Eld began drunkenly trying to dance together to his singing, he might have actually smiled while drinking his beer.

When a very drunk Moblit collapsed next to him, muttering about that crazy four eyes, Levi decided to put his foot down and end the party. With Petra's help, he had carried Moblit to his room. The poor man had muttered the entire way there, mostly about Hange and Titans and needing therapy.

The punch in the gut, figuratively, had taken place on his way back to his room. Courtesy of Petra.

He hadn't noticed it, which had been stupid of him in hindsight. His ginger haired comrade had been harbouring feelings for him- feelings he knew he didn't return in the slightest. He had turned her down as gently as possible, not expecting her to loop her arms around his neck and beg him for one night together.

'... Please captain, just one night. If you still feel the same in the morning, I'll never bring this up again.'

Maybe in another universe, he would have said yes. After all, despite the age gap between them, Petra was rather beautiful. And any man would want to enjoy a night with her.

Alas, the moment she had looped her arms around him, his breath had suddenly left him, as though Kenny had punched him in the gut again.

He wasn't seeing his ginger haired cormade leaning into him, confessing her love to him. He was seeing you, your hair in that messy bun, that sweet smile, saying all those words. Practically begging him to make you his.

The moment Petra repeated her statement again, however, the vision fell apart and he pushed her away. After a firm rejection and some tears, he wandered back to his office, feeling dazed.

Sitting down in his chair, he had stared mindlessly, thinking about you.

You and your sweet words. Your obsession with reading. Those special discounts for him. That gentle smile. Even those absurd grumpy Levi cookies you baked.

Levi was a Capricorn--and capricorns were practical people. Rational. And in the interest of being practical, Levi decided to admit his feelings to himself. It would only drive him crazy if he didn't.

He was in love with you.

___________________________________

In his thirty something years of living, Levi had never been in an relationship. He had been too busy navigating the dark realms of the underground, trying to find enough food to eat. He hadn't cared for sex either, too traumatized by Kenny and his (shudder) talk. By the time he had gotten older and more stable, he had been so disgusted by the flithiness of the act, that he didn't even bother seeking out partners.

Which was why, here was, in love with a woman who probably deserved better then him, unable to do figure out what to do. Should he tell you? Or just keep it to himself? He wasn't sure if you felt the same, but the part of him that was in love with you knew he'd die happy if he held even the smallest part of your heart.

He was at a loss really. Maybe he could find a book about this crap.

Kenny's voice rung in his head for a few seconds, before Levi shut it off. He would rather die single then get a girl using Kenny's advice. He could do better then this. Maybe Erwin would have a book, there had to be somewhere the blonde bastard learned his charm from.

... You gotta be upfront kid. If you want her to be yours..

Levi wouldn't listen to Kenny. No. There was no way...

.. Don't beat around the bush brat, just tell her...

...he would do as Kenny had advised him to.

... Kill her if she doesn't like you back okay..

Okay that wasn't happening. Even if some of it sounded like it made sense, he still wouldn't do it like Kenny would.

No.

Freaking.

Way.

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The next day, Levi silently wondered if his mentor was still alive. If he was, Levi resolved to stab him in a heartbeat. Because he just knew, that if Kenny could see him now, he would laugh his ass off.

After all, Levi had gotten into a relationship.

With a woman who baked cookies and drew his face on them for fun.

And it was all because he followed Kenny's advice.

Goddamit.

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A/N: This ended up being longer then planned whew. My fingers were numb at some points, bc I wrote this in 3 straight hours. I hope y'all liked this! Am I the only who thinks grumpy Levi cookies would be amazing? I had to give Kenny a role in this, it was too tempting not to. Overall, I liked this one alot. I actually have a plan in mind involving this Levi and reader, which I'll hopefully write soon. Till then, take care everyone!

[wreckofawriter]

Drunken Kisses

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Alochal use, swears like twice

Request: @justsomeficsyo hey my love, I hope you're doing well with lockdown! Could I request number 46 with Draco? If not use it for any other character (if you're sick of writing for him), I always love ur writing! ❤️❤️

46- you’re drunk at this festival and dancing on the table and when you eventually fell i caught you

A/n: not gonna cap, kinda feel like this is shit but oh well. Idek what to say, I'm pretty sure I'm in a slump rn, my last two fics have been actual garbage. I hope you guys like it better than I do.

    The quidditch world cup was something you had been wanting to go to for ages. You went to one when you were fourteen but it didn’t end well and since then all you had been wanting to do was go to one where you wouldn’t be almost burnt alive. You loved the sport, you played it for your own school and made a decent beater, since you graduated and stopped playing your thirst for the game grew. You finally decided after your second year of college you would go. You rounded up a bunch of your friends and apparated to the stadium. It had been built the year before, brand new everything, you were thrilled. 

    You and your friends all have the same intention when going to the game and that was to watch quidditch and get completely smashed. You were going into your third year of college the next year which meant you would have to buckle down and work so this was about it for the year. You were dressed in red and black clothes that showed too much, one of your favorite teams, the Buglrians was back in the cup thanks to their far too attractive seeker; Viktor Krum. You and four others piled into your tent where Gabby and Annabeth had already started drinking. You laughed at them claiming you weren’t going to start till five and they booed mixing up a margarita with too much vodka. 

    By the time the match started, you were two drinks in and Gabby was nearly blackout drunk. Annabeth had already passed out. You tried to wake her up before sighing and tucking the covers up to her chin. You made your way through the crowds of people, you and the three girls you were with all should have been wearing more than you were but none of you gave areally cared. Alex had the word ‘Krum’ painted across her stomach and you and Ruby both had black and red handprints covering your legs and arms. You were all covered in glitter and glow sticks which were enchanted to circle around your frame. 

Some Holyhead Harpie fans booed as you walked past and you flipped them off while Gabby shouted, “You’re just mad you're gonna lose!” 

You got to the stands pushing your way through a few people and climbing way too many stairs until you were in the center of the piled seats, You stood at the railing as Alex passed you a beer. You made small talk until the announcer came on introducing the teams. You all screamed like crazy when the Bulgarians flew into the field, Krum did a handstand on his broom whipping past and Ruby mumbled, “God he’s hot” Next to you. 

The game was amazing. You were getting progressively louder as it went on. 40 points Harpy’s, 20 Bulgaria, then 60 Harpy’s, 70 Bulgaria. Until finally, as the game progressed Krum came dive-bombing out of the sky streaking after a flash of gold. He caught it moments before pulling upwards holding it in his fist. You were elated. 

The four of you headed back towards your tent, Gabby was giggling about something you couldn’t make sense of as when suddenly a guy around your age popped out of his tent holding a pack of beers.

    “Blaise?” Ruby asked in disbelief. The name rung a distant bell.

    He turned towards you, “Holy shit Ruby?” 

    She laughed walking over to him, you followed a bit confused, your mind hazy with alcohol. 

    They talked for a second before she turned to introduce you. You smiled and shook his hand and suddenly it struck you, “Oh! You’re the guy she had a major crush on in high school.” 

    Your eyes widened as you slapped your hand over your mouth Alex burst out laughing. 

    “Sorry.” You mumbled, “Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

    The man brushed it off with a wave of his hand, “You guys should head over with me, a bunch of us have a bonfire going and I think someone brought a keg.” 

    “Then why are you carrying a six-pack of beer?” Alex asked.

    “Because their stuff probably tastes like shit.” He shrugged, “Are you guys coming?” 

    Ruby glanced back at you and you shrugged, “Why not?” 

   

    You followed Blaise about a quarter-mile from your tent to where a massive fire was raging. There must have been thirty college kids in the area, filling picnic tables and dancing on the grass. Someone had brought two kegs actually and it was apparent that a good chunk of them were hammered. It was dead silent until you stepped into a small glowing ring and suddenly the music was so loud you had to shout to hear anything.

    The smell of burning wood, weed, and beer was thick as yelling and laughter could be heard above the pop song which blared overhead. You laughed turning to see that Alex was already making her way towards one of the kegs. You followed her getting booed by a group of people sitting at a picnic table who were adorned in green and yellow. 

    “You’re the ones who lost!” Alex shouted from over your shoulder handing you a blue cup. Blaise was right, the beer tasted like shit.

    Draco watched as Blaise returned with four girls in tow. He sighed, rolling his eyes, not at all surprised by the new additions. All four were in black and red and were smiling widely. He snickered watching as one stumbled over nothing before finding her way to a picnic table. When his eyes landed on you they widened, your hair was messy and swiped back from your face, your cheeks flushed the shorts you were wearing left little to the imagination and the t-shirt was hugging your curves. You were stunning. His mouth went dry as his gaze followed you toward a keg, you laughed as one of your friends said something he couldn’t make out. Your smile was mesmerizing. 

    Draco was broken from his trance when Blaise coupled with one of the girls from before sat in front of him blocking his view.

    “Draco, you remember Ruby right?” he spoke gesturing towards the girl. 

    “Totally.” He lied, “Good to see you.” he craned his neck to the side attempting to catch a glimpse of you again. 

    Blaise raised an eyebrow, “Watcha looking for?” he asked, turning around too.

    “Nothing.” Draco shrugged, finding you sitting on the grass with the girl from before. 

    “See a hot girl?” Ruby joked, smirking following his gaze, “That’s y/n by the way.” 

    Draco felt his cheeks go hot, “I’m sorry who’s y/n?”

    “Who do you think?” She laughed, “The one you’re staring at, I’m not blind.” 

    “Which one is y/n again?” Blaise questioned, “Redhead or y/h/c?”

“Y/h/c.” Ruby responded, “She’s single you know.” she wiggled her eyebrows, “Very single.”

“Well, that’s convenient.” Baise mussed, “So is Draco” 

He rolled his eyes at their smirks and took a beer from the pack his friend had brought. His eyes wandered back to you as Ruby and Blaise’s conversation left without him. You were laying on your back now laughing hysterically as your friend tried to drink lying down, spilling beer down her front. You lifted out your wand to clean it before leaning over and whispering something into her ear. You waved it twice at the fire and suddenly it flickered deep black and red flames.  

“Bulgaria!” You and your friend shouted as Ruby turned around laughing. A few words from Harpy fans had the fire turned back to its original color. 

“Y/n! Alex!” Ruby called beckoning you towards them with a hand. 

You stumbled to your feet, white tennis shoes smudged with grass, “What’s up?” You giggled walking around the table and seating yourself next to Draco, Alex slumped on your other side.  

“Not much we were-” She was cut off when the song suddenly changed.

You squealed, leaping to your feet and hitting your bare knees on the hardwood, you didn’t seem to notice. You snatched Alex’s hand dragging her to her feet as well. You blurted out lyrics off-key as you climbed onto the table, glow sticks hovering around you as you swayed your hips to the music. You twirled on the tips of your shoes bringing your beer to your lips as a microphone 

Cheers and whistles from nearby people only encouraged you as you continued to drunkenly dance on the table “My loneliness is killing me, I must confess I still believe.” You drew out each word. Feet tapping along with the beat as Alex jumps up with you grabbing your hands. You sang together as Ruby howled with laughter beneath you. 

Your feet caught suddenly and you tumbled backward with scream you knocked directly into Draco’s’s chest knocking him from his seat and onto the grass with a thump. Draco groaned, opening his eyes and feeling his cheeks flush. You were laying on top of him, your hands holding you up as your face hovered just over his. 

Your eyes were wide as you traced the man’s features. His shimmering blond hair, deep red cheeks, sharp jawline, and icy blue eyes. Your heart sped in your chest as your gaze flicked down to his pink lips which were parted slightly. 

“You’re so pretty.” You mumbled and Draco felt his breath leave his lungs. 

“I should be saying that to you.” He countered shakily.

You giggled, staring for a moment too long, “I should probably stand up.” 

He nodded slowly, “Yeah.”

You got to your feet, Draco doing the same, both of you were bright red as you turned back to the group, Blaise winked at him and he rolled his eyes. 

The conversation continued and you slowly began to inch towards Draco craving his warmth, he smelt of expensive college and mint, it was intoxicating. The blonde almost jumped when he felt you lean onto him, your hand resting on his thigh. You laid your head onto his shoulder and Draco found himself resisting the urge to lean back into you. 

As the party began to dwindle Ruby decided that you should probably head back to your tent when Alex passed out on the table. 

“Where’s Gabby?” She asked glancing around to see her sitting with a group of girls you didn’t recognize. You pouted as she attempted to haul you to your feet.

“Y/n, we have to go.” She mumbled as you clung to Draco’s arm. He looked stunned.

“No!” You whined, “I don’t want to go!”

“God, you’re like a toddler when your drunk.” She huffed pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Finally, you got to your feet, stumbling and falling almost immediately. Draco stood to help you when he offered you a hand you took it but when he pulled you toward him you used that momentum to smash yourself onto his lips. 

You stood on your toes ramming your tongue into his mouth your eyes closed as you pulled him towards you. Draco kissed you back for just a second before pushing you away. 

Ruby stared at the scene her jaw dropped. 

“Why’d you pull away?” You pouted up at him, your hands fiddling with his shirt. 

“Because you are crazy drunk.” He responded hardly able to make out the sentence. 

“Fine. I'll kiss you when I’m not drunk.” You declared turning to Ruby, “Do you have a pen?” 

She shook her head.

You groaned snatching your wand from your pocket and shouting, “Accio pen!” about a dozen rushed at you. You snatched one turning to Draco and grabbing his hand, pulling up his shirt. You began to write on his forearm, the cap of the pen lodged between your lips. 

You pulled away, your phone number scrawled onto his skin, “You better call me.” You mumbled turning on your heels to follow your friends. 

Ruby snorted “You are going to regret so much of what just happened tomorrow morning.” 

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

@sleepingalaska

@chloe-geoghegan1

Masterlist

[gumnut-logic]

Bruised

For @scribbles97​ ::hugs you silly:: It is only little, but it is Scotty with a dash of Virg being Virg.

Sometimes the prescription is simple, if unexpected. A little Scott hurt/comfort.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Thunderbird One shuddered as she slid into dock, her whole fuselage groaning as if in relief.  As she relaxed, her airframe creaked, losing heat to the cool of the hangar and for a moment everything was still.

Scott let his shoulders loosen, his whole body slumping in his pilot’s chair. One by one, he uncurled his fingers from the controls, his joints stiff from holding them so tight.

His head dropped back against the headrest and his eyes closed.

God, damn.

Breath hissed between his teeth as he let it out as if he had been holding it in all afternoon.

It certainly felt like he had.

They couldn’t save everyone.

They couldn’t.

But god, how he tried.

He drew the breath back in and activated pilot retrieval. One’s main viewing hatch folded back and the platform extended out from the dock as his chair unfolded to meet it.

Even then it took him a long moment to move.

“Scott?” John startled him. “You okay?”

He drew his shoulders up, straightening automatically. “Perfectly fine, Thunderbird Five.”

There was a grunt from orbit. John didn’t believe him.

Scott was not surprised.

A sigh and he pushed himself out of his seat and onto the delivery platform, forcing the correct stance so he didn’t abruptly end his career on the concrete floor far below.

Machinery that had no concept of emotional state hummed smoothly and retrieved him back to solid ground. He took the last step.

Scott stared at his elevator for a solid minute before turning to the stairs and taking them instead.

He needed to move. Needed start his heart beating again. Needed to rescue himself from that vast hole that was sucking him down into its depths. That same empty hole those dead eyes had lured him to once the boy’s life had fluttered away and…

He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with a gloved hand.

It was always the eyes that got him.

These ones had been brown, somewhere between Virgil’s and Gordon’s and…oh god.

Move.

He threw himself up the stairs. Fortunately, there was a lot of them and they made his body work hard. By the time he made it to the locker room, he was panting.

His own breath was harsh in his ears and had a helplessness to it he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He shed uniform. His gloves hit the bench, followed by his baldric, his boots skidding across the floor. Struggling not to think, he unzipped his flight suit and shed the thick material, barely acknowledging the cool air as it hit the bare skin of his arms.

Another moment and he flung off his undershirt and shorts and padded over to a shower cubicle naked as the day he was born.

Goose pimples raised on his arms.

The shower was as hot as he could get it. But not hot enough to wash away the bruises he had no doubt Virgil would be targeting the moment he laid eyes on his eldest brother.

Scott’s sigh couldn’t be heard above the water spray.

Body scrubbed clean…ever so clean…red raw in places…the Commander of International Rescue stood under the steaming shower and closed his eyes.

You can’t save everyone.

It was his father’s voice. The same voice that came to him in all difficult moments. Grey eyes, reassuring smile and a strength Scott wished daily that he had. Jeff Tracy was a legend, bigger than life. Jeff Tracy was his father.

Jeff Tracy was a voice that guided him, that saved him, held him tight and prevented him from falling into that pit of despair that sometimes just loomed.

He turned the water off and let the remains drip off his body.

His left thigh was turning an ugly purple.

Damn.

Another sigh and he pushed aside the cubicle door and grabbed a towel.

It was big, extra fluffy, sky blue and all Virgil’s idea. He could still see his brother making his case for luxury towels in the locker room where they were needed. Mental health, he claimed.

Scott, Air Force to the core, had used abrasive cardboard squares masquerading as towels enough times to acknowledge the difference and how right his little brother was. It wasn’t a luxury; it was a necessity.

Scott buried his face in deep cotton as the cool air wrapped around him. Another moment and he was rubbing himself dry, his thigh, left ribcage and arm complained. The ache was creeping up on him. He hadn’t really noticed other than the sharp collision when he had initially fallen.

But he hadn’t had time. Arms full of dying rescuee with a building on its way down…he did what he had to do.

Still, it hadn’t been enough.

First John and then Virgil yelling at him over comms. He was fine. The teenage boy was dead, but Scott Tracy was fine.

Just fine.

He scrubbed his hair dry, trying his best to ignore the fact his left arm hated being lifted above his shoulders.

Hair hung in his eyes and he brushed it aside, irritably.

Somewhere outside the rock walls of the locker room a familiar roar swelled and he knew Thunderbird Two and his three brothers were moments away from invading this quiet space.

Scott straightened. It was inevitable. Virgil would not let him escape again, but there might be a few more minutes alone if he got his shit together.

One of the advantages of flying the fast ‘bird. First dibs at the showers and that moment to gather himself before his brothers cornered him.

Digging through his locker, he found some underwear, loose pants and an old t-shirt. His usual casual wear beckoned, but even he knew he wasn’t fit to go out again, even if Virgil hadn’t grounded him yet.

He wasn’t stupid.

Tomorrow, yes. Today? He needed a stiff drink and time to himself.

So that is exactly what he did. Detouring to the drinks cabinet, he nabbed himself a bottle of scotch and two tumblers. Two, because he was a realist.

Hair still a damp mess, he skipped up to his rooms, grabbed his tablet, and hid on his own private balcony. From here, he could see the Island, the villa below and the sky to the south. Mateo had birds hovering over it like it always did in the early evening as the day started winding down.

His eyes randomly tracked a lone bird, different from the others, coasting past high above the Island.

He threw himself into an overly plush lounger. Again, a sky blue and Virgil-instigated. Scott had returned from a mission several years ago to find it sitting on his balcony. Not a word had been said, but he knew it was Virgil. Just like the towels, it wasn’t extravagance, it was mental health and Scott had to admit to curling up in the contraption on many an occasion since.

The tablet, bottle of whisky and tumblers landed with a thud on the wooden table beside it.

His body creaked as he folded into the chair and he was reminded that he would likely have a medic brother on his ass sometime soon.

He lay back and closed his eyes and forced every to muscle relax.

And tried to ignore the eyes etched into his mind.

Only to be startled awake as someone loomed over him.

“Hey, hey, it’s only me.” Familiar, soft baritone and deep brown eyes, Virgil was crouched down beside him. His brother’s hair was still curly damp from the shower and he was frowning…at the bruises on Scott’s arm. “Just chasing you up after that fall.”

Scott shifted on the lounger and his whole body protested. Damnit. “I’m fine, Virgil.”

“I’ll decide that.” That prompted the ghastly yellow scanner light to flicker across his body.

“Virgil!”

His brother’s lips thinned to a line as he read the scanner’s readout. “You’re off rota at least twenty-four hours, possibly more.”

“I know that.”

“I’ll note that against your diagnosis of ‘fine’.”

Scott glared at his brother.

Virgil rolled back on his heels, eyes assessing in that damned medical way of his.

“Virgil, I’m okay. A few bruises. I’ll live. Stop worrying.” He hated being the source of anxiety.

Still, his brother stared, his frown emphasizing that scar between his eyebrows.

“What?!”

Virgil’s eyes didn’t waver. “Sit up.”

“Why?”

“Scott…”

Fine. He pushed himself up out of the lounger and sat on its side, frustrated as all hell as to why his brother was being such a pain.

Virgil rolled onto his knees and before Scott could do anything, he found himself wrapped in a massive hug.

His brother’s arms, ever so strong, built for heavy lifting, held him tight, but gently, Virgil’s damp hair brushing his cheek as his head rested on Scott’s shoulder.

Startled, it took Scott a blink to return the gesture, his longer arms flailing for just that moment of surprise before curling around red flannel. “Virgil? You okay?”

His brother’s only answer was to tighten his hold a little more.

Scott frowned, unsure what the hell was going on, but Virgil didn’t let go and Scott could only stay tensed up for so long before he was forced to relax into his brother’s embrace.

“What are you doing?” It was asked against flannel and his own breath was warm against his lips.

Virgil still didn’t answer, but one large hand crept onto the back of Scott’s head, fingers stroking hair.

What?

But somehow the question never made it to his lips. Somehow, his body began to melt, each muscle falling limp, those strong arms taking the place of the tension in his body.

Fingers carded through his hair.

“Virg…” But it was little more than breath and he found himself blinking rapidly.

No.

Still, Virgil didn’t stop. Scott could feel his brother’s steady pulse, thrumming against his neck, his chest moving with each breath.

Scott closed his eyes.

Ever so warm.

He could have struggled, fought, pushed his brother away. But…

Brown eyes vacant and hollow. The image had him flinching and the arms around him reacted, shifting just a little. His brother’s baritone rumbled a reassurance he didn’t quite hear.

But still Virgil held him.

Held him.

Scott had no resistance left.

That baritone rumbled again and his brother’s free hand began stroking his back.

Nonsense words. His brother was spouting nonsense words.

But Scott’s eyes were closed and his body spent. He wilted into his brother’s arms and found himself breaking on the inside.

Vacant, hollow eyes.

So young.

So like a little brother.

Scott scrunched up his face, fighting his own reaction. But Virgil was still rumbling, still stroking his hair.

A single tear escaped to dampen red flannel.

No.

No.

He let the wave of grief wash over him, but refused to react, waiting for it to wane away.

His heart beat too fast and it left him exhausted.

And still Virgil held him.

He lost time for a bit there. Eyes closed. Warm flannel. His brother’s voice. A small part of him resisted it. Virgil was a little brother despite their closeness in age. Scott should be the comforter, always…

But the little boy who had lost his mom, the young man who had lost his dad…the commander who lost a young teenager in his arms today…took that moment, grabbing it like a life line and accepting what his brother was trying to give him.

He sat there, he didn’t know how long, just existing, warm and safe.

Perhaps he would have fallen asleep right there in his brother’s arms, whether he would be embarrassed to admit it or not, but there were bruises and aches and eventually he was forced to gently pull away.

Warm brown eyes peered up at him, still worried. Virgil’s hand was on Scott’s knee as if he didn’t want to let go.

“Thanks, Virg.”

That hand squeezed his knee in acknowledgement. “Lie down and get some rest.” His little brother stood up and walked out of sight a moment, only to return hauling another lounger, this one in a deep green. “John’s coming down in the morning. We can debrief then.” Virgil grunted as he put the lounge down. “Grandma has an eye on Gordon and Alan, but the Fish has a new Buddy and Ellie series and Alan is hip deep in that latest game of his. I think they’re good.” He threw himself onto the lounge and the structure creaked under his weight. He lay back, crossed his feet at his ankles and closed his eyes. Virgil was obviously here for the long haul.

Scott wasn’t surprised.

The scanner lay discarded on the table.

A sigh and he lay back just like his brother. The sky was beginning to pink in the east, the echoes of a sunset he couldn’t see lighting up Mateo.

He felt far more relaxed than he had earlier. A tension had been eased, while not entirely, that would take time, lessened considerably.

He eyed his medic brother. The man looked like he was going to fall asleep. The sight of him had Scott yawning.

Damn him.

But it was thought with fondness and with a sudden urge to reach out and hug his brother again.

“Go to sleep, Scott.”

Virgil didn’t even bother to open his eyes.

Scott sighed and looked back up at the sky. It had been a shit day. Not the first. Probably not the last. Vacant eyes still haunted him and probably would for some time, but a pair of rich, brown eyes full of life and not a little love had somehow managed to take the edge off. His brother had filled that cold vacuum of a hole with warmth.

Virgil began to snore and Scott was forced to smile.

The snoring was probably fake, but it was lulling nonetheless. Safe and home.

Loved.

Scott closed his eyes.

And let himself drift away.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[foryoumyheroes]

hi! I dont know if you are still taking request, or even active but if you are, could you do a headcanon with todoroki having a s/o that loves drawing him ? they could be already on a relationship or not ur choice

Hi anon! If you're reading this I previously replied that I am sort of taking requests, but I was inactive until recent. In order to make that up to you I'll give you both a scenario fic and headcanons since I was struck by inspiration to write this! Hope you enjoy!! I kinda spiraled off topic asdfgh 

Pls accept my word-vomit like I’m a cat giving you a dead rat. 

The Campos 

Todoroki x Artist!Reader

"How is it possible for anyone to be that handsome." 

Even you were surprised by the words tumbling out of your own head, stopping your pencil in its place and as you froze like a still frame. It wasn’t long before you felt heat creep up your body, painting your cheeks all the way to your ears with a red like the sunset. 

It was always like this. 

There was nothing artistic from the way his image always flowed from your pencil in hurried lines and messy scribbles, and there was no beauty from how you always hunched over into the collar of your shirts whenever you felt the burning of your emotions. You wrote Todoroki [Name] and [Surname] Shouto in the margins of your notebook as if you had reverted back to primary school, doodled among little tiny hearts and sketches of his side profile. 

Maybe your parents were right. You should’ve just gone to art school like they had said and fallen down the path of them and so many of your other relatives. But at fourteen you were just so caught up with wanting to be different. You had to be. You had to get off the beaten path and flow out of the frame you were confined in. You said that in this family you would never be the best artist, but you could become the best Hero that the [Surname]s had ever had. You were a Hero-in-training, but you knew that at heart you would always be an artist. 

And now at sixteen you were at a loss. You were at a loss because whenever you looked over at the last window seat in 1-A, your talents always fell short. There was nothing you could draw that could bridge the distance you felt, to calm the foreign feelings in your body. Your drawing skills had not diminished while you practiced war, but you were backtracking now. Perhaps you really should’ve gone to art school instead. 

Maybe then you would find a way to express how you truly felt. 

Nothing you wrote or drew now could match up to the endless admiration you had for one Todoroki Shouto. 

Everyone else was mere background noise to Todoroki when he set his gaze on you. 

Although Bakugou and his group of friends were in the common room shouting and making a ruckus and Todoroki’s own friends were giggling at the back of him, tossing frosting, floating bowls of batter to Iida’s ire. 

His eyes always sought you out. 

It was difficult to explain why. Even now, with you in a baggy sweatshirt and loose jeans rolled at the ankles, Todoroki wondered why he was paying you so much attention. The world around you was spinning and you were at an impasse. You were only writing in your notebook, probably jotting down notes at a speed he couldn’t comprehend. Your head was always buried in that Campos notebook.  

With a loud screech, Kirishima bumped his hip on the dining table, jostling both you and him from your standstill, pencils rolling across the wood. Your eyes immediately flashed up and met with his wide heterochromic ones. A deer in the headlights. The two of you turned away as quickly as it came, ignorant to the pink that bloomed on both of your cheeks while a spark flickered across his left cheek. 

“Whatcha drawing there, [Name]?” Kirishima asked boisterously, pulling out the chair beside you while you heated up like a furnace, waving your arms around wildly and sputtered like a train engine. You couldn’t snatch it away fast enough and his dark eyes fell on your doodle-ridden pages with a soft, “Oh.” His lips formed a small O shape. His eyes carefully looked up at the hot-and-cold boy before dropping back down to your page. You carefully averted your eyes, fixing [e/c] orbs on some faraway wall until he carefully pulled your notebook toward him and quickly scribbling something down, pushing the pages back toward you. 

When you snuck a peek at the drawing of a blond gremlin with spiky hair like a porcupine, and a crude drawing of a K and B underneath an umbrella, a loud laugh tumbled out of your mouth. 

It was as if Todoroki didn’t exist anymore as you gave Kirishima your full attention, laughing to whatever jokes he made or witty one-liners. 

He wasn’t a poet. He didn’t know the words. 

Others could talk about how selfish he was for having his mother’s pretty face and his powerful Quirk; boys and girls have tried before, handing him letters in his locker and bouquets of flowers, but that never mattered to him. Only you have stayed on his mind. His attractive features and his Quirk only had stock to it if it helped him win over your affections. 

In crowded places and busy gatherings, when he stood in solidarity, when his hands hung by his sides and his eyes were left with nothing to see, he wondered what primitive part of him was always acting out. How his hands wanted to cut off all connection with the logic in his brain and reach out to grab yours. How he always silently watched you from faraway, physically unable to tear your visage away from his eyes. His body always acted without reason — the heavy palpitations against his rib cage, the rose against his skin, the sweat on his palms, the dilation of his pupils. 

He wondered how he was in Heaven just by being near you. 

He wondered what it would take to get you to look at him for once. 

But your eyes would just be deep within the confines of your Campos notebook, impervious to his lingering thoughts of you.

Surprisingly it was Todoroki who offered to clean up after his friends while they went into the showers to wash away the flour and frosting that coated their hair and skin. The night had already been long by the time they turned in, heavy and drowsy after making several tins of uneven, ugly cupcakes. He had to do something with all of this energy, he thought, scrubbing away at stubborn stripes of sugar that painted the counter tops.

The lights were off and only the streaks of moonlight filtered through the large windows of the dorm room. You had left with Bakugou’s group several hours earlier, accepting Kirishima’s invitation to go to the nearest konbini for ice cream with an open hand. 

Now it was just him. 

Tossing the rag in the wash bin, he was about to make his way back to his room when his eyes fell upon the dining table and he found your notebook. 

How could he not know it was yours. He had seen it within your hands more times than he could count, more obsessively than Midoriya’s Hero Analysis for the Future No. 13. He wondered if that was why he was so interested in you. Your dedication to your studies were admirable. Nearly twenty-four-seven. 

Carefully, he crept closer to it, as if it was a bomb going to detonate before he picked it up. 

The pages curled and crinkled in his hands, and he debated opening it. 

It was just a school notebook, right? You probably only had notes and worksheets hidden inside of it. 

Maybe he could get an answer to your time. He could discover the subjects that you were struggling at, or even find one that you were better than him at. You were a couple ranks below him in the class grades. When he returned your Campos to you he could ask to study with you. 

He flipped it open and his heart stopped at the sight. 

Shit, shit, shit! you thought, running down the stairs, taking two at a time. It was late enough that the elevators were locked for curfew and you cursed Aizawa-sensei for putting your room at the very top of the building. After you had gotten back from the konbini with your friends, cheeks hurting from how hard you were laughing at Kaminari’s antics and Sero’s sarcasm, you had completely forgotten that you left your notebook on the kitchen table. You only remembered when you dug through your bag only to scramble around when nothing came up. If anyone like Hagakure or god forbid — Mineta, found it, you would never live it down. You were lucky enough that Kirishima was a good sport about it. He knew how to keep his mouth shut, but everyone else? 

You wondered if it was too late to transfer schools. 

Your feet landed harshly on the carpeted ground after the final step, head snapping back and forth for your notebook, but froze at what you saw. 

Even in the dim light of the moon and past the hand clamped over his face, you could see the heavy pink on his cheeks. 

Your heart dropped. 

“I — “ His hand fell to his side and you were given a full view of the strong flush on his face. “That’s my notebook... Todoroki-kun.” 

When the Campos dropped to the floor and he dashed across the common room, hand around your waist and his lips on yours, you found that you didn’t need flowery words or an arsenal of artistic techniques to express how you felt. 

Your hands wrapped around his neck, locking him deeper in the embrace, fingers cording through his soft red and white hair. 

The instinct to be closer to him would be all you need to overcome the division between a desire for him and the stillness of your body. 

Headcanons: 

After you two get together and it becomes more obvious that you’re drawing him, he’ll coax you out of doing it in secret.

He’ll ask to take pictures of the drawings on the margins of your notebook or if you’re drawing it on scrap paper, he’ll ask to have it after you’re done with it. 

He keeps it in a box uwu and he has to upgrade every year because it keeps on getting full. 

Even if you’re not drawing him, you ask him to pose for you so you can take references for your other drawings. He’s just so proportionate!! 

It makes him so happy every time he sees it!! He nearly catches on fire every time. 

The fact that you’re expressing your affections in this special way makes him so soft?? 

He once tried to draw you in return but he has like zero to none art experience. Even had no experience in his childhood because all he wanted to draw was All Might and Endeavor wouldn’t allow that. 

Instead you offer to teach him the basics on how to draw and you two continue bonding that way!! You sit on his lap because that’s the best spot to be close enough to guide him and show him how to draw while you drone on and on about shadows, anatomy, perspective, and he’s just nodding along without a single word going to his brain because he’s just staring at you the entire time. 

[“Shouto-chan, did you get that?” 

“Yeah...boxes?”]

If you draw him complete pictures he keeps it on his wall, and eventually his dorm room looks like he’s about to string red yarn around it because it’s blanketed with paper all over like he’s uncovering a murder conspiracy. 

A/N:  The picture that I used for the page breaks is Anselm Feuerbach’s “Peonies” and I actually saw it in real life at the Neue Pinakothek!! It’s one of my favorites and I even got a mousepad of it bc I’m a dork asdfg 

The Kirishima and [Name] scene is inspired by this comic by marbitss and I was inspired to write a lot of prose after reading Nicole Krauss’ The History of Love!

[toria-lilith]

Smoke and Roses - A Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx fan fiction (chapter one)

A/N - Hi guys! So I made a post about this a few days ago but I decided, since I finally remembered the fucking password to this blog, that I’d rework some of the writing and plot points in Smoke and Roses, and republish it! I really hope you enjoy more this time round! 

Fic Summary: Holland Van-Ness is a PR manager. At only twenty three years old, she is smart, sharp and straight edge; and the best in the business at what she does. But when she gets involved with the reckless Motley Crue, her life changes forever.

DISCLAIMER:: I would like start by saying I do not condone any of the actions portrayed by any member of Motley Crue, any member of their crew, or any OC. This work is fictitious, and is in no way meant to glamorise drug or alcohol abuse. ‘Smoke and Roses’ is based on the events of Netflix’s ‘The Dirt’, and the autobiography of the same name, and follows the both of them closely, and will include details regarding the aforementioned abuse that may be triggering to some readers. The timeline in this fic also differs slightly from real life and The Dirt. With all that being said, proceed with caution, and enjoy!

It was the ringing of the phone that awoke Holland.

In her grogginess, she seriously considered rolling back over and ignoring it, but just when she thought it was done, it started to ring again; long, and loud, and tearing her back from the comfort of sleep.

Holland groaned. She rolled begrudgingly out of bed and made her way across her bedroom, where her phone was hung upon the wall opposite her bed by the window. Whoever was calling her better have had a damn good reason to be bothering her at nine AM, and on a Saturday of all days.

“Hello?” She said tiredly into the receiver, running a hand back through her dark blonde hair to push it back from her face, “Holland Van-Ness speaking.”

“Ahh, Holly,” a voice, irritatingly cheerful for the time of day, greeted her on the other end. “It’s Doc Mghee.”

Well, that certainly peaked her interest, and Holland was suddenly wide awake. Though she had known Doc for years, he rarely called for a chat, which could only mean one thing; he had a job for her. “Doc, good to hear from you,” she responded warmly, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

It had been a year or so since Holland had last spoken to the infamous manager. He had been a close friend of her Father’s before he passed away, and had been the one to help her break into the music industry when she was a mere eighteen years old. That had been five years ago; and Holland was eternally grateful. She owed a massive amount of her success to Doc. “Tell me,” he said, “how soon are you able to get to LA?”

Holland raised an eyebrow at the question even though Doc couldn’t see her. “Doc, if I’m going to make a trip to LA, I should know what it’s about.”

Doc chuckled. “I’m getting to it. I’ve found you a band.”

“Oh yeah?” Holland had expected that, of course. She balanced the phone between her ear and her shoulder and reached over to her dresser to fish for a notebook and pen. “And… what band might this be?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Doc chuckled again, and Holland didn’t like the way he seemed to be deliberately avoiding answering her question. “But just hear me out, alright? I think this might be just the challenge you’ve been looking for.”

Holland felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Part of her thought she knew exactly who had had in mind, and he was right; she didn’t like it. “...Go on,” she pressed him after a moment.

Doc chuckled for a third time. He sounded unmistakably nervous. “Motley Crue.”

For a moment, Holland was silent as she digested this information, and then she laughed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Holly-”

“Are you crazy? Doc, you seriously want me to fly all the way out to LA to be their PR manager? That’s career suicide!” 

“Holly,” he went on pleadingly, “these boys need help. If anyone can sort out their shit-show of a public image, it’s you. They’re on the verge of real success here, but my God, their image has got to be fixed. They need you, Holly. Just come to one show. If you think they’re beyond help, I’ll pay for your flight back. But just give them a chance. These kids need some sense talking into them and they don’t listen to me.”

“Kids?” Holland scoffed. “They’re not kids, they’re grown ass men!”

“Look, the choice is yours,” Doc sighed heavily, “can I expect to meet you at the airport or not?”

“Dammit Doc…” she groaned loudly, making it very clear to him exactly how she felt. “Fine. I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Holland heard Doc cheer. “Holland Van-Ness, you are a star!”

The line went dead as Doc hung up. That time, it was Holland’s turn to sigh. She’d heard stories about Motley Crue that were rivalled only by her nightmares. In the six months since they’d debuted, they’d singlehandedly caused more problems than any other band Holland had managed, and she had had to put up with some serious shit. From their very first gig, Holland had decided they were trouble, and she had sworn to herself that she was not going to get involved with them or any other band like them. Apparently, that was not a promise she was going to be keeping.

Holland padded sleepily into the bathroom, where she lingered for a moment to brush her teeth and pull a comb through her hair. She paused by the sink to take a good luck at her reflection. She looked a damn sight better than she had done five minutes ago, but there was an emotion in her eyes that Holland didn’t immediately recognize. She realised after a moment, that it was fear. 

She drew in a shaky breath. When she told Doc working with Motley was career suicide, she hadn’t been joking, and that thought scared her more than anything. If she didn’t have her job, what did she have?

She rushed back into her bedroom where she dressed quickly and threw a few essentials into a small suitcase. Anything else she needed, or had forgotten, she supposed she could buy once she landed in LA. Holland had worked with a menagerie of bands; from small, local acts to headlining musicians. She had helped all of them maintain a fairly respectable public image. But now, in the cab on her way to the airport to meet Motley freakin’ Crue, she couldn’t help but feel as though she was completely out of her depth.

She made her way through customs fairly quickly and within the hour, found herself in a less than comfortable aisle seat on a four hour flight from Miami to LA. That sinking feeling remade its home in her stomach as the plane started its ascension, and Holland found herself gripping the arm rest, so tightly her knuckles strained white against her skin. She was at least comforted by the thought that when she inevitably wanted to return home, she wouldn’t have to pay for the flight.

As the plane made its way through the sky towards LA, Holland tried to catch up on the sleep that Doc had so cruelly taken from her but it was nearly impossible over the roar of the engines and her own feelings of anxiety, and so eventually, she gave up and resigned herself to watching the clouds whizz by the window. Before she knew it, LA was upon her, and she found Doc waiting for her by the luggage claim.

When she saw her old family friend, all her frustration momentarily drained away and she embraced him in a tight, if not brief, hug. “It’s good to see you, Holly,” he told her with a smile.

“And you!” She said. She looked anxiously over his shoulder, expecting to see the band stroll through the duty free stores towards them. “They’re not joining us?” She asked him.

“Relax,” Doc assured her quickly, “they’re not here. I thought you’d want to get some brunch and get settled in first.”

Holland smiled weakly, reassured. “That sounds great.”

She collected her suitcase and allowed Doc to carry it out to the cab for her. She could have carried it herself given that it wasn’t too heavy, but she was exhausted after her busy morning, and was secretly grateful for his help. When they got into the back of the cab, Doc looked as though he was going to start with some pleasantries, but when he turned to Holland and saw the look on her face, he knew she was ready to talk business. He could tell she had a lot of questions, and motioned for her to start.

“Alright,” she said, folding her hands casually on her lap, “first and foremost, where am I going to be staying? You didn’t mention a hotel or anything in your phone call.”

Doc grimaced and didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. “Once again,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “you’re not going to like it.”

Holland’s face fell a mile. “Doc…” she deadpanned, “tell me I’m not going to be staying with them.” She looked at him intently but Doc said nothing, which only confirmed her fears. “Are you serious, Doc?” She asked him furiously, “working with them is going to be bad enough!”

“The money’s not bad,” he reminded her, hoping to diffuse the situation but she only scoffed.

“Yet clearly not good enough to buy me a hotel room,” she scowled. “Why the hell do I have to stay with them?”

“Holly, these boys aren’t like anyone you’ve ever worked with before,” Doc told her. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder with them than you have with any other band. You’re going to need them to trust you, Holly. And this is the way to do that.” He gave her a look that Holly recognized and understood almost instantly. It was the same pleading look her Father used when he wanted her to cooperate.

Even so, she groaned loudly. “Alright, fine,” she relented. “I’ll stay with them.” She sighed, turning to look out of the window to avoid seeing the triumphant grin on Doc’s face. “So, what are they like?”

“They’re…” Doc trailed off. He glanced out of his own window, as though the street passing by would inspire him. “They’re a handful,” he settled on eventually, “self centered. Arrogant. But, they’re talented as Hell, and I think they’ve got it in them to be good kids. They just need a little push in the right direction.”

Holland hummed in acknowledgement. She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t need to. A beeping sound came from Doc’s pocket. He sighed, pulling out the small pager. A scowl passed over his face.

“Aw, crap,” he mumbled, “sorry, Holly. We might have to put that brunch on hold.” He slipped the pager back into his pocket and fed another address to the cab driver, different to the one he had initially given.

“Why?” Holland frowned, “what’s happened?”

“What’s happened is you’re about to start your job a couple hours early,” he said grimly, “there’s been a fight.”

Holland found herself rolling her eyes. “Of course there has,” she grumbled, though she didn’t know why she was surprised. When working with Motley Crue, she should have expected nothing less.

[abraxos-is-toothless]

I have a fic request, pretty please! Andreil (ofc!) Anyway Neil not answering his phone (cuz it died, again, oops) and Andrew losing his shit and hunting him down!

Okay it’s 2am and this is finally, finally being posted. It should have gone up like a week ago but Tumblr wouldn’t let me answer asks at the time. I’ve changed this around so many times and I don’t know if this is what you were hoping for but I tried my best! I tweaked it a little too, so sorry.

Full Masterlist.

—————

This is Josten, I don’t want to talk to you so don’t leave a message.

This is Josten, I don’t want to talk to you so don’t leave a message.

Andrew had now called Neil’s phone about twenty fucking times and he still hadn’t answered; he always answered when Andrew called him. Everyone was in the lounge at the court since it had been at least four hours since anyone had heard from him. Nicky was almost in tears, Dan and Matt looked like they were two seconds away from calling in a search party and of course Aaron the asshole looked like he didn’t care that Neil was missing. Abby was tucked underneath Coach’s arm, her face etched with worry and taking comfort from the man. It was about fucking time they got their shit together. The man in question cleared his throat just when Andrew was about to leave and search the campus himself. “Minyard sit the fuck down, we will find him we just have to piece some things together first.”

All he did was sneer at the command but stayed nonetheless. He was itching to pull out his knives and bury them in something but Renee gave him a look as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and she shook her head at him. Nicky really was crying now and Andrew had to force himself not to roll his eyes. Yes they all cared about Neil, they were all his family, but with the reactions they were giving it was like they expected the worst. Andrew could not think like that, wouldn’t think like that because even though he hated when the idiot said it, he had to believe that Neil was fine.

“Who was the last person to see him?” Allison spoke up from the other side of the room, and so now it looked like she was getting worried. When they’d first gathered here it had only been an hour and she figured he’d turn up in the next few minutes. Oh how wrong she was. Matt forced out an answer, his leg bouncing non-stop, just like it had been after the riot two years ago and Neil had been taken to Baltimore.

“Uh I did. We walked to our first class together after morning practice.” Well that didn’t really help because the junkie had his Spanish class right after that one and then he usually went on his run after that. No one would have seen him at Fox Tower after that, because no one else was free. Actually that was wrong because-

“He was talking in Japanese. He was talking in fucking Japanese.” Because the coward that was Kevin Day had one of his classes cancelled and he’d told everyone he’d go back to the dorms and figure out a new drill they could do, not that anyone really cared. Before he could do a repeat performance of choking Kevin out, Renee was on him in a flash, restraining him from any movement. When Kevin turned to look at Andrew, he’d gone as white as a sheet, as if he realised what he’d just said and visibly swallowed. Andrew was going to kill him, and then bury his body where nobody would find it. Just as soon as the good Christian girl let go of him.

“What the fuck do you mean he was talking in Japanese, Day?” Andrew’s voice was low and smooth, promising a whole lot of pain if Kevin didn’t respond in the way he was expected to. The spineless coward looked around the room at the foxes, eyes lingering on his father, before turning back to Andrew and wringing his hands in front of him.

“When I got back to the dorms, Neil was already there. I was going to ask him if he wanted to help me come up with new drills and plays when I heard it. He didn’t sound like he normally did, it was like he was someone else and was talking in whispered Japanese like he was worried about someone hearing him.”

The fucking stupid asshole.

He was dealing with Moriyama bullshit and hadn’t even bothered to tell Andrew. They had agreed on no more lies, to trust one another. Looks like Andrew had made a mistake on that front but really, it was bound to happen. That was a lie, Neil was most likely in meltdown mode and had forgotten he had people who could help him now. Nicky was hysterical now and started yelling at Kevin, tears falling down his cheeks. “Well you speak Japanese too dickwad, what the fuck was he actually saying or are you going to wait another four hours to tell us that?”

“I don’t know what he was talking about! There were a few quick ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers and an ‘of course’ but he wasn’t actually giving information. He probably didn’t want to get into trouble.”

Oh Andrew was going to enjoy being responsible for the death of the great Kevin Day. Just as he was about to fight Renee to get to him, the sound of the door opening pushed through his senses and he swivelled to see Neil walk into the room. Nicky gave a cry of relief, getting onto his feet and joining Matt as they ran over to fuss over the redhead. Neil tried meeting Andrew’s gaze and smile, but all he could do was glare at the sight of those piercing blues. Andrew was quite angry with him, and he’d soon find that out. Wymack was also quite angry by the looks of it, arms now crossed over his chest and a face like thunder. “Where in the actual fuck have you been, Josten? And don’t give me any of your usual bullshit because it’s not going to be good enough.”

Andrew watched Neil gently extricate himself from his cuddly giants and sighed as he looked around the room at everyone. It was Wymack who’d asked for answers yes, but Neil didn’t look at anyone other than Andrew, as if it was just the two of them.

“Ichirou called. He wanted an update on his assets and to make sure we weren’t doing anything stupid. He also wanted to reiterate what would happen if we didn’t manage to attract pro teams that weren’t to his liking. I told him that he wouldn’t be let down.”

Aaron piped up for the first time since they’d all walked into the court hours ago. “It’s been literal hours Josten, a text to say ‘I’m still alive, unfortunately’ would have been great. I’ve wasted my whole day.”

“I know how long it’s been, jackass.” Neil snapped, glaring daggers into Aaron’s skull. Andrew was still vibrating with anger and couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Everyone get the fuck out.” When they all just stared at him, not moving, he emphasised his point by unsheathing a knife and giving a firm, “Now.”

Nicky and Kevin moved like lightning and were the first to leave. Allison smirked for some stupid reason, winking at Neil as she strode out of the room. Matt and Dan looked weary but still left, Aaron on their heels. Renee gave them both gentle smiles and nodded her head. Wymack gave Neil a stern look like he wanted to say more but thought better of hit, rubbing his forehead and mumbling about being ‘too old for this shit’. Abby gave Neil a few motherly touches, which the redhead flinched away from for the first time in a long time, and then she too was gone.

Now that they were alone Neil tried explaining with an, “Andrew I...” but he trailed off, seemingly lost for words. He didn’t have a chance to think of anything else before Andrew flung himself at his stupid junkie, fists gripping at Neil’s- no Andrew’s –t-shirt and burying his head into his chest. He smelt of apples and sweetness and god, Andrew felt like he could finally fucking breathe.

“You didn’t answer your fucking phone. Why didn’t you answer the phone?” Neil’s arms moved, one wrapping around Andrew’s waist the other holding the back of his neck, keeping him against his chest.

“Ichirou had a few extra words before the call ended. He said he was ‘sorry for my loss’. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about at first but then I remembered. It’s the anniversary of mom’s death. I turned my phone off after and just ran. I came back when I turned my phone back on and saw the missed calls.”

As much as he hated Mary Hatford, he knew why Neil still mourned her sometimes. He was slowly beginning to understand that what his mother had done to him was wrong, that she had abused him for years, but she was all he had known and was the only safe thing for him. He hated it but kept quiet, not wanting to get into an argument on the matter right now. “Just let me know you’re alright next time. Kevin heard your call, heard the Japanese. I thought, I thought...”

Neil suddenly cupped his face in his scarred hands, tilting his head back so they were looking at each other, before leaning in to press their foreheads together. “I’m right here ‘Drew and I’m not going to disappear again. I’m right here.”

The kiss that followed was soft, gentle and slow, so unlike them but it was what they needed just then. They need to be able to feel everything and to be able to feel each other. Andrew didn’t want to let go, he wanted to stay and kiss Neil until his lips went numb but exhaustion was a bitch. He pulled back, looking at Neil’s lips which were swollen from their kisses and he had a pretty red flush that had blossomed on his cheeks.

“Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry and you owe me ice cream after what you just pulled.” Neil just laughed and nodded, taking one of Andrew’s hands in his own and linking their fingers together, walking them both towards the door.

“Whatever you want ‘Drew, whatever you want and I’ll give it to you.”

—————

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[sheerbeautyreigns]

Have yourself a kinky little Christmas 🎄🎁

One shot - Roman (Joe) and Drew have a festive fuck at the Christmas Party.

Joe groaned sinking back into the comfy armchair of his private locker room. He had just come from the main event of a physical TLC match with Kevin. He had already been to get checked by the trainer and luckily it was just a few bumps and bruises.

Thankfully this would his last show before the Christmas break. Paul was elsewhere catching up with Vince. As he started getting this things together, his phone rang. He swallowed seeing that it was Drew. “Hey,” he said softly in his Scottish accent. “Are you still joining us at the Hilton?”

“Yeah, I was just going to freshen up and see you guys there.” Joe told him, kicking off his boots. He already felt relieved. “It’ll be good to grab a few drinks before Christmas. It’s been a while.” Drew always had a friendly nature about him. He got on with everyone in the locker room whereas Joe kinda kept himself to himself. “I know.” Joe nodded. He wasn’t much of a drinker these days. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. Its not far from here anyway so I’ll be like 30 minutes or so.”

It was about 11 when Joe went down to the bar. He had opted to wear a charcoal coloured suit and a black shirt. The bar was as busy as he had expected. Familiar smiles greeted him as he made his way to the bar. He made small talk with a few people before Drew caught up with him. “I thought I would have to fight Ric for your attention.”

Joe smirked, taking a sip of his wine. “Once he starts talking…” Joe looked him over. He looked good in his navy suit. “How you doing?” Drew asked cautiously. They hadn’t really been in touch outside of work matters for a while. “Good. It’s just been so busy since I came back. I’m getting used to it.”

“It’s been better since you returned. The moral has changed. It’s been a pretty weird year. It’s almost a year since we-“  Drew started “I know.” Joe responded, casting his eyes downwards before taking another sip of his drink. “Sorry, It’s a bit awkward talking about it here.” Drew observed their surroundings “We could talk somewhere…quieter…if that’s what you prefer.” The Scot suggested. “I just got here.” He could see it made Joe uncomfortable, talking about this in amongst their work colleagues. “So?” Drew smirked. “Tell you what. I’ll text you my room number. I want you to meet me up there in 30 minutes after you’ve done a little mingling. Just so it’s not obvious.” With that, he walked off and started doing a little mingling of his own.

Joe could feel butterflies as he waited outside Drew’s hotel room. Thankfully, nobody was around. The door swung open. Drew looked him in the eyes and held the door open. He was just wearing his shirt and trousers now. He watched attentively as Joe walked in, watching his every move. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come.”

“What do you mean?” Joe asked, stopping behind the sofa. “I think we both know what’s bound to happen if we’re alone together.” There was something very self assured about the way Drew carried himself that made Joe hang on to his every word. Before he could even speak, Drew was already motioning for him to remove his suit jacket. “That’s better.” He took Joe’s jacket and set it on the back of a nearby chair. “Take off your shoes.” Joe did as told. With every move Drew made, Joe could feel his heart beating faster. “Eleven months has been far too long since I had you.” Joe smiled at those words. Had it actually been that long. The celebratory fuck after Drew won the Rumble. “That was a good night, from what I remember.”

Drew stood in front of him and placed his hands on Joe’s chest. “I couldn’t wait to work with you again last month. Get my hands on you…” Joe’s eyes trailed down to where Drew was unbuttoning his shirt. He tilted his head in a way that told the Scot that he wanted to kiss him but Drew continued unbuttoning. Lust filled his blue eyes as he spread his hands across Joe’s exposed chest before he lowered the shirt down Joe’s arms, allowing it to drop to the ground. Joe couldn’t wait any longer. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Drew’s until he gripped his hand around his neck, easing him off. “Sorry.” Joe apologised. “Now, you should know better how I do things.” Drew said firmly looking him dead in his gorgeous brown eyes, leading Joe to nod. Drew smirked, letting go of his neck and turning his attention to unbuckling his belt. “I can already see how hard you are for me.” Joe blushed at his words as he slid the belt off and set it aside. “It’s been so long…” Joe started. “Too long. This can be a Christmas gift for both of us.” A small laugh left Drew as soon as he said that. Joe didn’t care how silly he sounded. He just cared about Drew fucking him senseless.

His dick grew harder with every movement he made to remove Joe’s trousers. After he’d discarded them he looked into Joe’s eyes and ran his hand over the material of his black Calvins. “I want you to fuck me so bad.” Joe breathed, resting his hand on Drew’s. “Look at you. The anticipations killing you isn’t it?” Drew could be a cocky shit when he wanted to. He knew he could get away with it when it came to Joe. He was like putty in his hands. It’d always been that way between them. His eyes widened as he slid the material of his boxers down over his muscular thighs. “Big Dog indeed.”

“You’ll have my cock inside you, don’t worry.” He kissed Joe, wrapping his arms around him, motioning him towards the bed. The Samoan stumbled back, falling onto the mattress below. “On all fours.” Joe did as Drew instructed. He looked over his shoulder and watched keenly as Drew undressed. He too was rock hard. Joe watched intently as he grabbed the lube from the bedside cabinet and squeezed it onto his hand. He felt Drew’s weight shift onto the bed behind him.

He shut his eyes as the cool lube made contact with his skin. Drew smeared it over his entrance before inserting two fingers. Joe shut his eyes and exhaled with pleasure at the touch. “You’re so tight.” Drew observed. “It’s…been a while.”

“How long?” The Scot enquired. “Nobody since you.” Joe panted as Drew fingered him harder. “That’s what I like to hear.”

“Please fuck me. I can’t wait any longer.” Joe asked, looking around at him. “As you wish.” He withdrew his fingers and lined the head of his cock up against Joe’s opening. “Aaah fuck-“ Joe breathed, remembering how girthy Drew was. A low groan came from Drew’s throat as he focused on the task at hand. He was trying to be gentle. Joe focused on taking long, deep breaths, trying to relax his muscles. “What’s the matter big boy? Having a change of heart?” Drew was trying to provoke him. “Fuck you.” He growled. This angered Drew slightly so he decided he was going to have his wicked way with him. He grabbed a nearby red tie that had been lying on the bed and grabbed both Joe’s arms, placing his wrists behind his back. “Hey what are you doing?” Joe was confused. He knew Drew liked to have the upper hand but this was new. “Let’s have some festive fun. I’ve always wanted to do this. For me?” Joe hesitated a moment before agreeing. With a smile, Drew bound his wrists together. “Try to get out of that.”

He smiled as Joe struggled, to no avail. “You’ve no idea how fucking sexy you look right now.” Joe turned his head to the side and tried to look back at Drew, but he couldn’t. “Funny because I don’t feel it.”

“Hush up.” Drew told him as he dripped more lube on his cock and Joe’s opening. Thankfully he was able to slide in with more ease this time. “Fuck!” Joe let out as Drew began to fuck him. He steadied his hands on Joe’s pelvis, steadying his body as he thrust into him time and time again. Joe shifted about below on the bed, struggling against the impact of Drew’s relentless fucking and the fact that he was defenceless. It was a totally different feeling than any other time they’d been together. The Scot was well and truly in control. “I’m gonna cum so hard in your sweet hole boy.” Drew proclaimed grabbing Joe’s ass and squeezing it hard, causing Joe to yelp. Drew laughed aloud, slamming in one last time, cumming hard. They cried out in unison as Drew forced Joe further into the mattress. He loosened his grip on him before pulling out. Joe breathed heavily, turning his head to the side. As soon as Drew got off him he lowered down next to Joe. “Fucking hell, that was intense.” He said palming his forehead. “Mind untying me now?’ Joe said straining his arms. “I don’t know. I kinda like you like that.”

“I swear to god, if you don’t-“ Joe scowled. “Jesus man, chill out.” He kneeled up on the bed and went about untying his wrists. Joe winced, turning over on his back. He looked a little dishevelled. “You’ve changed.”

“What do you mean?” Drew asked, now laying next to him, propped up by his elbow. “Well, I didn’t realise you had a kinky side.”

“What can I say. I like a bit of variety. Maybe I can surprise you another time?” He smirked before leaning down to kiss him. "Merry Christmas."

[ragingbookdragon]

You Can Take Off All My Clothes And Never See Me Naked Final Part

A Haytham Kenway x Reader Story

Word Count: 2,100 (Technically 21K if you count all of it on AO3) Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author’s Note: Well friends, we have reached the caboose of this train. I hope you’ve enjoyed this story despite how dark it was. This was the first time writing this character. As usual, this’ll probably get a epilogue, so don’t get your undies in a twist about the ending lol. Enjoy! -Thorne

***Set One Year After Part Eight***

           The execution occurred at dawn. There were no priests to bless last rites nor redcoats to see that it was an orderly punishment. It was merely her, the Grandmaster, and the Assassin-Hunter. It was a personal execution; one she would see the end of. One year of nonstop searching and rescuing. They’d freed some thirty girls and women across four countries. She was present for each and every one. She owed them that much.

           She watched with a frigid gaze as they’d secured him to the giant oak stake, then poured the oil all around, making sure to douse his body with it as well. They returned to her side and the Grandmaster lit the torch, handing it to her. With slow steps she walked to the edge of the pyre and gazed at up him. He stared back with a dead gaze—an entire year in a cold, harsh cell had finally deprived him of himself. It was little compared to what they suffered.

           “Come to offer divine justice?” his voice was low and scratchy, like he’d not tasted water for days—not that she cared.

           Raising the torch, she replied darkly, “If there was such a thing as divine justice, you’d be long gone already.” She lit the oil around him and met his eyes. “I hope you burn in hell forever, Ausilio Viviani.”

           Taking a few steps back, she watched as he went up in flames, the fire dancing in her eyes, casting shadows across her face. His howls of anguish echoed across the hills, but it sounded like the sweetest music in her ears.

           She stayed until his skeleton fell to ash at the bottom of the pyre then turned on her heel and walked past them. “It’s done. I’m leaving.” Neither of them chased her, though the one felt his heart reach for her.

***Later That Evening***

           Haytham rubbed his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time, hoping that it would clear the strain so he could keep writing, but it did little to soothe it. Figuring it was time to call it quits, he lightly clicked the quill to the ink and set the pen in its holder. Closing the ink, he drew his eyes to the door, feeling someone in his presence. “Come in.” He’d said it just as they knocked, and he heard a huff.

           The door opened and Shay walked in, closing it behind him. “I hate it when you do that.” He collapsed into the chair in front of Haytham’s desk. “Makes me think you have some sixth sense.”

           “Maybe I do?” Haytham quipped, grinning when Shay grimaced; he sighed and reclined in his seat, crossing a leg over the other. “To what do I owe this visit, Shay?”

           The Assassin-Hunter frowned and slouched in the chair. “Haven’t seen (Y/N) in a while. Gettin’ worried about her.”

           Though Haytham felt the same, he didn’t voice it, instead offering, “I can’t imagine she’s too keen on being around anyone right now.”

           “I know that,” Shay countered. “But she’s not at the tavern and I’m not sure where else she’d go. Me and Gist have looked everywhere.” He met the Grandmaster’s eyes. “I figured you’d be with her.”

           “Me?” Haytham inquired, eyebrows raising. “Why me?”

           Shay rolled his eyes. “Really? This is how we’re gonna do this? You too?”

           “I don’t know what you—”

           “You’re in love with her, Haytham.” He grinned at the pure shock crossing the other’s face. “Seriously, I wish I had portraits of your faces. It’s pure contentment for me.” Shay groaned as he rose from the chair and stretched his arms above his head. He lowered his arms and looked at Haytham. “She loves you too, you know? But we both know she won’t say anything.”

           “She loves me?” was all the other could manage and Shay sighed.

           “You know that thing inside your skull helps with the thinking process, right? Using it is strategically beneficial.”

           Haytham glared as he rose from his seat, pulling on his jacket and cloak. “That’s the one time you’re allowed to insult me and get by free.” He placed the tricorn on his head. “Get out of my office, Shay.”

           Shay sent him a salute. “Aye, sir.”

***

           He ran all over the streets of New York after he left the tavern. Apparently, the last time Anita had seen her was that morning when she came to collect her things. People gave him odd looks and he didn’t blame them. Someone even commented on how he must’ve missed an anniversary. That one almost made him punch them. He sped down another alley and came out the other side, eyes darting up and down the street before cursing. She was no where to be found. Haytham wondered if she skipped town and took his heart with her. No. He thought. I let her go, I won’t let (Y/N) go.”

           He thought back on all the times that they’d spent together, every place, every moment. His gaze shifted in the direction of the manor where’d they’d attended the ball together. It was a long shot, but he didn’t have any better options, and he spun on his heel, sprinting for the gardens.

***

           She sat on the bench, watching the stars twinkle above her. The leather bag in her hands felt heavy, and as it should be, it held all she owned. Something ached in her heart, but she avoided thinking about it—avoided thinking about him.

           Figuring it was finally time to leave, she stood and hauled the bag over her shoulder. A scratching behind her made her panic and she turned, pulling the gun on whoever was coming from out the bushes. They came face to face and she lowered the gun. “Haytham?”

           He grinned at her. “I’m beginning to see what Shay feels on a regular basis.”

           (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at that and she holstered the gun. “What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

           “I’m here to stop you from making a terrible mistake.” He said, brushing off the leaves and twigs stuff in his clothes.

           “Excuse me?” she questioned, cocking an eyebrow. “I think it’s bold of you to assume I make mistakes.”

           “Is it though?” he countered, smirking as she glared.

           “Alright, you can stop being an ass.” (Y/N) scratched at the leather bag handle. “Seriously, what are you doing here Haytham. How’d you even know I was here?”

           He stood straight with that arrogant stance that made her patience run thin. Haytham walked past her and looked up at he sky. “I figured you’d come back to a place that has significance to you.”

           “Oh? And what significance is this place?”

           He turned, meeting her gaze. “It’s where we both started feeling for one another.”

           “Your arrogance is astounding.” (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest. “Really, you’re so arrogant you make Odysseus look humble.” She stuck her tongue out at him when he rolled his eyes, then looked off at one of the rose bushes. “Besides, how do you know I have feelings for you?”

           “Are you asking because you do?” Her silence made him chuckle. “Shay told me.”

           Indignation flared across her face and she hissed, “I knew it! I knew that stupid shit spilled!” She spun on her heel, intent to march to Fort Arsenal and kick Shay’s ass. “I’m gonna plant my foot up his backside.” As she passed Haytham, his arm shot out and he stopped her.

           “Wait.”

           (Y/N) did, albeit with a glare. “Do you wanna do this dance, Haytham?”

           He leaned close, getting nose to nose with her. “If it means you’ll be my dance partner forever, then yes.” Her eyes went wide, and he professed, “I won’t let you leave. Not now. Not when so much has happened between us.”

           “My departure isn’t your decision to make.” She retorted, and Haytham could feel her bicep flexing under his grip.

           He nodded. “I know.” His free hand cupped her cheek. “But I let love slip through my fingers once before.” Haytham pressed his forehead to hers. “I won’t allow it to happen again.”

           (Y/N) stared into his eyes, trying to formulate a response. Say something. She thought. Anything! “Are you sure you want me?” Not that!

           He pulled away and laid his head on her shoulder, and she felt him shake against her. “Oh my god, are you laughing at me?!”

           “Just a bit.” He said.

           She shoved him away and stalked over to the bench. “Oh, you’re such an ass!” He followed, taking a seat beside her, grinning while she silently fumed.

           They sat in silence for a while and sometime during that, their hands had come together, fingers lacing between the others. (Y/N) rested her head on his shoulder, and this close, she could smell the twinge of peppermint and cedar. She looked down at their hands, examining all the small scars they had.

           “My mother got sick one day…and she never got better. She died when I was nine years old.” She felt his head tilt, telling her that he was listening. “I lived on the streets for a year until Ausilio found me.” His hand tightened on hers. “I felt so safe that first year. I thought everything would be okay but…I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

           “You said you were afraid he’d find you again.” He murmured quietly, like she was a doe and easily spooked.

           “I was.” She nodded. “I’ve never stayed in one place more than two years.” Her eyes drifted to the leather bag. “I figured since I was well past two, I might as well leave.” Again, his hand tightened. “But now…I don’t know if leaving is the best thing.”

           “It’s not.” He said.

           “So sure?” (Y/N) teased.

           “As sure as I’ve ever been of anything.”

           “Can’t be much.”

           “Shay’s right, you are mean.”

           (Y/N) barked a laugh. “Oh, and you’re not?”

           Haytham raised her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Never said I wasn’t.” He turned his head and gazed at her. “Stay here with me,” he breathed.

           “I’m not exactly a team player, Haytham.” She countered.

           “I’ll be one for you.”

           “I curse a lot.”

           “Every couple needs a foul speaker.”

           “I’m not a gentry member.”

           “My name is big enough to cover you.”

           “I get in fights a lot.”

           “I can patch you up.”

           She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m running out of things to scare you off with.”

           He grinned. “I can tell.” He reached up and poked her nose. “I’m not going to be scared off that easily.”

           (Y/N) didn’t speak for a moment, then she whispered, “I’ve got a lot of scars. On my body…and my soul.”

           Haytham searched her eyes then cupped her cheek. “I do too.” He ran his thumb under her eye, wiping a tear away. “And I’ll help heal every one if you’ll let me.”

           Tears threatened to spill over her eyes. “You want a broken woman like me, Haytham?”

           He shook his head. “The woman before me isn’t broken.” He brushed another tear away, but they kept falling. “The woman before me has rebuilt her castle from ruins.” He pulled away and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “She is unbreakable. She is unshatterable. She is power incarnate, and she holds the world within her hands.” Haytham took a deep breath and bared his soul. “And she holds all that I will ever be in those hands. I would do anything for her.”

           (Y/N) let out a breath that sounded more like a garbled sob and she shifted one of her hands, bringing it up to hold against her mouth.

           Haytham smiled heartfully. “I love you, (Y/N) (L/N).”

           She let out a watery laugh, not able to fight the wobbly smile across her face. “You are…one sappy fuck.” (Y/N) pressed her hand to his cheek and he reached up, holding it against his skin. “I love you, Haytham.”

He huffed a laugh, feeling tears gather in his eyes. “Yeah?”

           She nodded and whispered, “Ask me again to stay.”

           Haytham swallowed thickly. “(Y/N), will you stay here, with me? For as long as time will give us?”

           (Y/N) nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes.” She pulled him from his knees, pressing her lips to his. “I’ll stay with you.”

           They broke apart and pressed their foreheads together, tears trailing down both their cheeks. She’d found her freedom. She’d found her hope in helping others. But the one thing she never thought she’d find, she did—love.

[asthesamcroflies]

Hi can I get an imagine with Happy. The reader works with Gemma and Happy has a crush on her. One night they run into each other in a bar and they're a little drunk he takes her home where they get it on. She thinks its a one night so she gets up to go but he stops her and tells her he likes her and to stay. Definitely smutty with a cute ending please

So, I also had a separate request which just stated Happy Lowman/smutty/#26 and thought I’d incorporate the two... Enjoy!

Prompt 26: “You’re a little hostile right now...”

Night One

He didn’t usually get drunk, not in the traditional sense. He’d have to let his guard down for that and Happy Lowman did not let his guard down. Not usually anyway.

But he’d agreed to catch up with some fellow former nomads in a bar they used to frequent back in the day and had ended up drinking more than he’d intended. Not that he couldn’t hold his liquor. But yeah, all things considered, it had been a weird night. So much had changed. Just not for him.

Tank cutting out early had been the final straw. It turned out the burly biker who’d left the nomad life behind to land with the Samdino crew a couple of years ago, a man who had once swore he needed nothing more than his bike and his cut, now had an old lady and twin babies to consider. Tank, for Christ’s sake. Two babies.

Happy – fearless, intimidating Happy – found the mere thought mildly terrifying.

Actually, of the six of them – six guys known to put the fear of god in those who dared cross them or their club, six die-hard bachelors who lived their lives on the road – four were now firmly tied down in a way they’d always vowed they never would be.

That left Mouse and Happy himself still free to indulge in whatever the hell they pleased.

Where once that would have made Happy smug though, now it rankled at him. Not least because he knew nothing would please his ma more than to see him finally settle down. Landing in Charming with the mother charter had been the compromise that allowed him to check in on her, given her advancing years and sometimes poor health. But where his Samcro brothers had old ladies, kids and community ties, he still might as well have been a nomad in all but name – living out of the clubhouse, indulging in the easy pussy that flocked to the place, but never letting anyone get too close. There just wasn’t anyone who—

“Watch it,” he growled, as someone bumped into him, sending his drink sloshing over his hand. “Or I’ll… You.”

“Uh, Happy, hey. Sorry, shit, I’m such a klutz.”

The tall, gruff Son had no idea what to say to the woman stood in front of him. He never did. Not when she was holed up in the Teller-Morrow office with Gemma, not when she was casually strolling across the yard or through the garage, and especially not when she was stood before him in some dive bar in a tiny dress that barely covered her ass, those big eyes slightly hazy with alcohol as she gazed up at him.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, genuinely surprised to see her out of her usual habitat, but realising too late that the simple question unintentionally sounded less like small talk and more like some kind of interrogation.

“Uh, you’re a little hostile right now…” she said, somewhat defensively. “I am allowed a life outside TM, you know.”

Was she? Of course, she was. Well, it depended on what she meant by a life. The concept hadn’t really crossed Happy’s mind until now, and he found himself frowning at the thought of it. As far as he was concerned, her place was in the TM office. And unwittingly starring in the vast majority of the fantasies that drifted into his mind when he wasn’t entirely focused on work.

Obviously, he realised that the scenarios he pictured all too vividly were utterly incompatible with reality. She wasn’t some croweater, easy pussy. For a start, unlike most of the club girls, she had absolutely no idea the effect she had on him. For all he knew, this life she was apparently entitled to could include a boyfriend. Husband even. The thought rankled him more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

“Just… didn’t expect to see you here,” he muttered, realising he was just staring at her and shifting his dark gaze almost guiltily from those tantalising bare legs. Taking in her plump, glossy lips instead didn’t help in the slightest.

“I’ll get you another beer,” she offered, with a little eager-to-please smile, swaying on her heels just a little as she flagged down the barman. “Since I made you spill…”

And in the end, he’d let her. That was how they’d ended up talking most of the night, slow though the conversation was to ignite. Turned out she was there with a girlfriend who’d abandoned her in favour of some guy. Going back to the clubhouse had eventually been Happy’s idea. He was just surprised it was one he’d voiced out loud – and that she’d agreed. Maybe that life of hers didn’t actually include another man after all…

So that was where they’d ended up, back at TM. Both of them were now on more comfortable turf in familiar surroundings and, having raided the clubhouse bar, well on their way towards a new level of drunkenness.

“This might be the most we’ve ever talked,” she giggled, leaning against his shoulder as they sat on top of one of the picnic tables outside in the growing darkness. “You never talk to me, Happy. Don’t you like me?”

The Samcro enforcer didn’t know how to answer that. How could a man with his reputation admit that he didn’t have the courage to talk to a woman he actually liked the idea of for more than a quick fuck? As it turned out, her own Dutch courage negated the need for an answer from him.

Instead, her mouth simply crashed onto his.

She tasted of the vodka she’d been knocking back and something sweet that might have been whatever was slicked on her lips to make them look so damn irresistible and he kissed her back with a hunger that wasn’t exactly a familiar sensation for him. For once, he didn’t just want to get his dick wet courtesy of the first willing body – he wanted her. Specifically her.

“Not here,” he growled, drunk on booze and the intoxicating scent of her perfume, but not too drunk to register that they were too close to the main door to avoid an audience for long. And he wasn’t okay with that, not with her.

Making it to his dorm room was something of a blur though, as if the world flipped into fast forward, only to grind back down to slow motion when somehow she was under him on his bed in just tiny scraps of hot pink lace. He was pretty sure those delicate panties ripped in his big hands in his determination to get them off her, but he had to have her before she drove him out of his goddamn mind.

The groan he drew from her when his tongue plundered her wet heat went straight to his cock.

“Oh god, Happy…” she moaned, her short, neat nails raking over his shaved scalp and practically sending a shiver down his spine.

Part of him wanted to just eat her out until she screamed for mercy, but another part – the part of him that was achingly hard for her – needed something more. And it seemed that was what she wanted too, as instead of complaining when he pulled away, she simply lay there breathless and taking in the sight of his lean, inked torso while he retrieved a condom from the night-stand.

His hand curled lightly around her slim throat and, in one long, slow thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside her, muttering dark curses at the feel of how tight she was around his throbbing cock.

“Happy…”

His name on her lips was practically a whine as her legs wrapped around his pistoning hips, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs and her hands reaching back to grip the headboard of the bed, stretching out her gloriously naked body for him.

“Fuck, yes,” she groaned, her laboured breath hot on his ear. “Harder…”

For once, Happy did as he was told.

The hand around her throat slipped downwards the fullness of her tits, cupping, squeezing the firm flesh, pinching her dusky nipples as he slowed the pace of his thrusts, wanting this to last if it was probably going to be the only chance he got.

She bit her lower lip, her head thrown back and her hips meeting his perfectly as she focused on chasing the orgasm that seemed to be brewing low in her belly.

“Happy, please…” she ground out, one hand leaving the headboard to trail down her own stomach and between her legs, her fingers grazing his slick cock as it slipped in and out of her, before finding the tiny bundle of nerves they had been seeking out.

He only let her rub frantically at her clit for a second, then firmly gripped her wrist and drew her hand away, guiding it back to the headboard with a glare and a shake of his head. If she wanted to cum, he didn’t need any fucking help getting her there.

The biker picked up the pace again, slamming into her hard and fast as she cried out in pleasure, her eyes squeezing closed. His hand cupped her cheek at that, getting her attention.

“Look at me,” Happy demanded roughly, his own breathing getting ragged with his exertions.

Her eyes opened, meeting his and he swallowed hard, letting his thumb trace over her full lower lip, prompting her to gently suck on the digit. When his hand finally slipped away, it trailed down her body, over skin flushed and covered in tiny beads of sweat, and sought out her clit just as she had.

It was somehow too much and not enough all at once and her hips arched helplessly towards his, her thighs clenching and her body trembling as she cried out.

“Oh, Happy, fuck, fuck, fuck…” she all but sobbed. “I’m… I’m gonna cum… I’m… Oh, fuuuuuck!”

With a flare of masculine pride at the response he could induce in her, Happy held out for as long as he could, jaw clenched as he fucked her through the intensity of her orgasm. But the vise-like grip of her soaked pussy around his cock quickly won out and he soon came hard and with a roar that he muffled against her throat, before collapsing down on top of her.

“Jesus…” she sighed breathlessly, as he shifted his weight off her to lie on his back by her side, trying to get his breath back and dashing sweat from his brow with his forearm.

Neither of them spoke. Nothing that came to Happy’s tongue seemed right and the silence soon stretched out between them uncomfortably, even as his brain berated him and told him he was in danger of completely fucking up whatever the hell had just happened.

Sure enough, she started to shift away from him, awkwardness creeping in and, despite what had just transpired between them, making her wrap herself in the tangled sheets and clutch them to her chest.

“Uh, I guess you probably want me to go…” she said softly.

His head snapped towards her at that, but she already had her back to him and didn’t see the look on his face.

“It’s okay,” she continued, obviously not wanting to make the whole situation any more awkward than it had to be. “I’ve been around enough to know how it works, Hap.”

“Stay.”

His low voice was rougher than ever, more hesitant than he’d ever been about anything. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“Stay. Uh, please?”

She turned, wide-eyed. The Tacoma Killer didn’t say please.

“You… You don’t have to do this,” she tried hesitantly, trying to second-guess what was going on here. “One night, that’s the deal, right?”

He shrugged, feigning a casualness he really didn’t feel. “Doesn’t have to be.”

“So… not just one night?” she said, quiet and unsure, clearly mulling over what that might mean.

“Maybe just… night one?” Happy suggested, a rare little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he reached for her again. They could figure it out later.

[jemej3m]

ghosts

this was unprompted but i dont care. all yall want is the wedding and i need an angst pallet cleanser before i can keep going with that. it’s so soft and sweet. blurgh, gross ;D

anyway!

remember in the first part, when neil said that drake spear’s case would forever remain unsolved? 

yeah. this is that.

trigger warnings: implied/referenced sexual assault, i/r torture, i/r csa, i/r self harm/suicide attempts, i/r murder

(normal pre-marital problems, i assume)

*

Neil traversed their kitchen as he threw together a curry Renee had recommended, whistling very poorly with the TV on in the background. An Exy game was always playing, much to Andrew’s dismay. 

They’d been living together for about a year and a half, and engaged for nearly a week now. Neil thought he couldn’t possibly get any happier, which was odd and unfamiliar in his tragic life. As he rinsed the starch off the rice and threw it into the rice cooker (gifted to him by Allison because once he’d served her undercooked, burnt rice and she’d never forgiven him since) he heard the front door unlock and twist open, the familiar shuffle of his fiancé arriving home making Neil smile. 

That sentiment was lost when he turned around to greet him. 

“Andrew,” Neil managed, watching Andrew fall onto the couch. He looked at the television, eyes so distant that they couldn’t register Neil even as he crouched down in front of him. “Andrew?”

His hands were shaking, curled into fists by his sides. Neil had never seen his skin so pale and lifeless. 

“Andrew,” he continued. “Can i sit next to you?” When he didn’t answer, Neil slowly moved to sit on the couch, giving him enough time to shove him back. Neil kept at least a centimetre between them at every point. 

“I’m making dinner,” he said, trying to think of something mundane to draw him out of his head. “Curry, one of Renee’s. You said you tried it and liked it. It has lamb, and I've snuck in some peas, but the sauce tastes good enough that we should be able to ignore them.” His fists relaxed slightly, the longer Neil talked. “You remember that cat shelter that I said was a front? Well, it’s still a cat shelter. Maybe we could check it out, see if there are any hairless ones. I know you like the hairless ones.” 

Andrew reached out for Neil’s hand and closed his eyes. His thumb traced the scars on Neil’s skin. The pattern was familiar and comforting for Andrew: Neil sighed with relief. 

“I’ve got those off-brand icecream sticks you love,” Neil continued, leaning in closer. “There was only one box left that weren’t those coconut-raspberry ones. Pure chocolate, just for you. Maybe we could dip them in sprinkles.” 

Andrew hummed softly. 

“Hey,” Neil said under his breath, leaning closer. He never asked if Andrew was okay, if he was alright, how his day went: not when he was like this. Asking a question meant requiring an answer, and providing a template meant forcing a restricted response. Andrew didn’t need to give Neil falsities. They were past that.

“Drake is being let out on parole.” 

Drake fucking Spear. 

Andrew told Neil the story a year into dating. He was in college, with his cousin and his brother. They’d moved to South Carolina, lived under Betsy’s roof as a reprieve from their biological family, and then congregated at their local college. All was fine until Andrew’s foster-home past caught up with him, the last time they’d gone to visit Nicky’s mother and father. 

Drake had been waiting for Andrew in Nicky’s old bedroom. It was safe to say that when Nicky and Aaron found them, it wasn’t pretty. Andrew had intentionally fucked with his biological mother’s car when he figured out she was treating Aaron like shit: in return, Aaron had wrenched Drake (a marine seal) off his brother and kicked the life out of him. 

Only he didn’t die. He went to jail. Aaron went to trail and claimed self-defence on his brother’s behalf. Everything was meant to be fine. 

Eight years later, Andrew was here, sitting on the couch as he reminisced upon horrid memory after horrid memory, knowing that his old demon was loose once more. 

“I’ll kill him.” Neil murmured. 

Andrew finally looked at him. “Neil.” 

He looked up. “I would kill him a thousand times over, Andrew.” 

Andrew said nothing, his head falling to rest on Neil’s shoulder. By the amount of tension coiled in Andrew’s shoulders, he must have been holding this in all day. 

Neil set his jaw, unwillingly to lie to himself. He was going to commit a self-serving, premeditated murder. 

His father would be so proud. 

*

When it finally happened, Andrew was coming home from dinner at Nicky and Erik’s. Neil was still working, somewhere in the depths of the city, but it was fine. Andrew had been able to distract himself from the weight pressing on his shoulders for a few hours with his cousin. 

A whole month since Drake - no, Spear - had been out on parole, and Andrew hadn’t heard a peep. For a while Andrew had thought that perhaps Spear would go to Aaron instead, the man who’d bashed him but not good enough to avoid jail, but Aaron had heard nothing. Chicago was way too far from South Carolina, where he’d been held for his crimes. 

But Baltimore wasn’t.

He unlocked his front door and felt the way it was loose, too loose, observing the scratches on the bolt’s screws. Andrew grit his teeth, pulling out the knife from his armband and wishing he’d brought home his gun, to swing the door open. 

As expected, the apartment was dark. But not empty. 

“Evening, AJ.” 

“Isn’t this dramatic,” Andrew insisted, though his insides were twisted with fear. Don’t lock up. Don’t lock up. Don’t -

“I was waiting for you. I’ve missed you.” 

Andrew punched the lightswitch hard enough for the wall to buckle: it held, and instead revealed something worse than Drake and his sneer. 

Neil was bound to a dining chair with cuffs Andrew kept, just in case, a tie around his mouth. He looked incredibly woozy. Andrew wanted so desperately to go to him, but Spear himself was sat on the arm of their new couch, elbows braced on his knees. Andrew hated his slick grin and his knowing smile and his soulless fucking eyes. He couldn’t believe he’d almost killed himself over this man, thinking at least he would die knowing what a mother’s love felt like. 

A mother’s love shouldn’t have cost Andrew a thing, let alone nearly everything. Those scars on his arms were warped with time and a long journey to healing, and Drake wasn’t going to take that away from him again. 

“You learned a few tricks in prison,” Andrew acknowledged. 

“You snatched yourself a husband-to-be,” Drake sneered. “How cute. I knew you’d liked it all along.” 

Andrew’s hand twitched. “You’re in violation of your parole, Drake. I’m going to arrest you.” 

“You’re a cop?” Drake spat out a laugh. It was guttural and wrong. Neil winced. “Well, ain’t that just funny.” 

“Funny how I, the boy who’d had nothing and was still taken from, ended up with a fulfilling life, finding family and friends and a purposeful occupation, whilst you, a boy who’d had everything and more, took your life for granted and ended up in the slammer for eight years, with more to come? Hilarious. I agree.” 

“I should’ve crushed your skull eight years ago,” Drake laughed. “No matter: I’ll make up for it now.” 

Neil met Andrew’s eyes as his hands fiddled with the cuffs. Keep talking. 

 “Why, Drake?” Andrew’s voice cracked. “You had Cass. School. Friends. Everyone liked you. What drove you to ruin your own life?” 

“I did have everything I could’ve ever needed,” he said, teeth oily as he grinned. “But what I wanted was something I couldn’t have. Till it occurred to me that I didn’t need to have it. I just needed to take it.” He sneered, putting his hands to the arm of the couch as he readied to stand. “Did it hurt you, little AJ? Because I hope it did. I always liked it best when you bled -” 

“Then I’ll make sure that you get what you’re owed, Drake Spear,” Neil said softly, balancing his knife between his fingertips. Its blade rested against Drake’s throat, Neil free of his cuffs and gag. 

The man froze. 

“Best practise is putting things away after you use them,” Neil advised, lifting a cloth to Drake’s mouth and nose. The man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he slumped over, falling to the ground with a heavy thud. 

Andrew sucked in a gasp of air, watching as Neil cuffed the man’s wrists behind his back and stood with a boot pressed to his neck, should he wake up. 

From under the couch, Neil drew out a large tarp and his knives. Andrew closed his eyes momentarily. By the time he’d opened them, the coffee table had been flipped as a make-shift torture device, the tarp covering the carpet beneath. Neil was testing the sharpness of his cleaver against the tip of his finger: satisfied, he turned around to look at Andrew. “Help me roll him?”

Andrew looked at the man, hollowed out. “I was going to take him in.“

“What good is that?” Neil demanded, throwing the cleaver back into his pile. “He’ll go back to jail for another four to six months for violation of his parole, unless he tries to -” Neil screwed his eyes shut. “No. No, I won’t let him touch you again. And if you suggest some sort of self-sacrificing bullshit to have him locked up for good, I won’t buy it.” 

“He won’t get out on parole again -” 

“That is not worth a fifteen year sentence that he’ll worm his way out of again, letting the cycle will just repeat itself. No, Andrew. He is never going to touch you again. He will never look at you again.” His fists shook with a quiet fury. “I won’t let it happen.” 

“Neil,” Andrew stepped forward. “You need to let me do my job.” 

His fiancé brandished a knife from god-knows-where. “You need to let me do mine! Leave if you must. If your morals put you above killing a horrid man to keep my family safe, then go. But this man is not leaving here alive and whole. I am not letting the man I love subject himself to ruination via an old demon.” He finally looked Andrew in the eye. “Not if I can help it.” 

Neil bent over to drag Drake’s unconscious body over to where he needed it, locking his ankles and wrists to the four metal legs of their coffee table. The chloroform wasn’t strong enough to keep him asleep for long, but it didn’t matter. He was secure and doomed by the time he blinked his eyes open. 

Andrew watched Neil spin a knife between his fingers. 

“Wh - “ Drake coughed. “What? What happened?” 

“Not much,” Neil said, lightly. “You merely threatened to maim and kill the man I love, right in front of me.” His smile was the most frightening thing about him. “I don’t like that.”

“No,” Drake struggled against his restraints. “No!” 

“For now, I’ll shove this in there,” Neil said, grabbing the tie. “But later I’ll be sure to sever your vocal chords, so you can try and fail to scream, just like you tried to keep him quiet for years. No gag required. Neat, right?” 

“AJ,” Drake panted. “Andrew, get this psycho away from me. AJ -!” 

Neil shoved the tie into Drake’s mouth. “No. Stop looking at him. Look at me. I’m your biggest problem right now, aren’t I?” 

“I’m going to the study,” Andrew muttered, lightheaded. Neil glanced up at him, so he nodded, so minutely that anyone but Neil would’ve missed it. 

Neil’s expression softened slightly around the eyes as clear understanding passed between them, bright as day. 

Thank you for doing what I couldn’t, Andrew said. 

Thank you for letting me, Neil returned. 

With a deep breath, Andrew turned away to put the kettle on as Neil got to work. 

*

WOW okay. twiiiiiisted. i did promise that this would all be fluffy and nice, didn’t I? well, oops. 

i hate drake enough to feel that its warranted tho. srry not srry. 

back to your regularly scheduled program a-next time!