#happy pride month to my absolute favorite way of being close with another man

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about all the ways you can be intimate with Price that doesn’t involve having sex

One thing about Price is that he’s known for his love for hats. But very few people know the reason as to why he wears them in the first place.

Truth be told, more often than not, he will let his hair grow past the length that’s stated in haircut regulations. Curls will start forming at the back of his neck , unruly strands will stick to his temple as he sweats and if it’s a particularly windy day, wisps of hair will fall into his eyes and obscure his vision. So to cover up the fact that he’s clearly breaking regulations and to keep his hair in check, he’ll wear a hat on his head.

He always tells himself he’ll cut it short. Hell, he even goes out his way to take down the box of clippers from the shelf where they’ve been collecting dust for God knows how long. But every time he intends to cut it something comes up and he opts for wearing a hat instead.

However this time around, it’s a different story since inspection week is coming up and you’re the first to notice how long his hair has been getting lately.

As you lean in for a kiss, you feel the unruly strands of hair wrap around your fingers tips. You smile as you twirl them in your grasp, lips still kissing Price’s.

He pulls away, mirroring the smile on your face as he says “what are you smiling about?”

“Your hair’s been getting so long lately” you say as you run a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at the long strands as if to empathize your point.

His brows furrow, before a look of realization crosses his face “I guess it has, hasn’t it? I’ve been meaning to cut it, just haven’t gotten around to doing it,”

You nod as you continue to play with the hair at the back of his head, already aware of the box of clippers that’s been collecting dust on his desk “when’s inspection now again?”

“Next week. Cut it for me?”

The bathroom connected to his room is rather small, barely fits two people but you make it work as you sit down on the toilet seat while he sits down on the floor.

He sits so close you get a whiff of his cologne. The scent’s a familiar one, one you know not only by smell but also by name. It’s a cologne you’d spontaneously bought one day and had managed to use once or twice before it somehow ended up in Price’s hands. Now it’s a scent solely associated with him.

You can also smell the cigars he smokes. The scent is sickly sweet but also earthy- reminds you of mahogany much like the mahogany curls he's sporting at the moment.

You gently grab onto his shoulder, forcing him to shuffle closer. He’s now perfectly slotted between your legs, as you go to inspect his hair.

“Any special request ?” You ask as you card your fingers through his hair, carefully inspecting the length. The man lets out an appreciative sound at your gently touch before he shakes his head in response to your question.

“Just want it short?” You ask again, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Yes, please”

“What if I mess up ?” You joke as you continue to inspect the length.

“Don’t really care, I’ll wear a hat either way” he shrugs, and flashes you a smile over his shoulder.

“Alright” you say, before you reach down and gently grab onto the edge of his shirt “May I?” You ask, lips brushing his ear as you lean down to ask for permission.

He shivers at your touch, but nods his head at your question.

You gently pull the shirt off of him, leaving him in just the undershirt that he’s wearing. The sudden exposure to the chilly bathroom air has goosebumps raising on his skin and your hands quickly find his arms as you attempt to warm him up.

“Sorry” you say as you plant a kiss on his shoulder. He just smiles and shakes his head “it’s okay, not your fault yeah?”

You grab onto the box where his clippers lay and take out the one you needed for his hair. You quickly adjust the settings on it before bringing it to his head.

As you turn on the machine you feel the familiar buzz coursing through your fingertips. You try not to let your nerves get the best of you as you get ready to cut his hair for him. However, sweat still trickles down your spine, the clippers almost fall out of your hand and you have to take a deep breath and apologize beforehand in case this doesn’t go as planned.

You do the first swipe with the clipper and watch as strands of hair fall to his bare shoulders. You quickly take the brush that came with the kit and gently brush the hair away from his skin. He hums in content as he relaxes into your embrace

“Good?”

He nods with a giggle “tickles”

You chuckle at that as you continue to cut his hair, tufts of it steadily falling to the floor and sprinkling across his shoulder. You even see the loose strands of hair sprinkling onto the undershirt that he’s wearing. However Price doesn’t seem to mind it, seemingly relaxed as ever.

Nothing can be heard except for the steady buzz coming from the machine, along with the soft noises Price will give in response when you ask him something. He’s long given up on talking, mind and body too relaxed to bother with it.

Your hands are gentle as ever as they grab onto his chin, cheeks and temples, turning his head in whichever direction is needed at the moment. His eyes, although closed, flutter at the touch, as he chuckles at the ticklish feeling that comes from your hands.

However you still check up on him to make sure that you aren’t hurting him.

“Am I hurting you?” You ask as you bring the clipper a bit closer to his ears. “Is this okay” You ask again when you fear you’re holding too tightly onto him. You even drop a “you tell me if I’m doing anything to hurt you yeah?” when you notice the flush on his skin.

Sometimes Price responds with a hum, sometimes with a nod and sometimes with the shake of his head (You almost have the mind to scold him for his careless movements but you allow him to do so anyway)He even chuckles at the last sentence as if saying not you, never you and that’s all the reassurance you need to continue cutting his hair for him.

At some point he does talk - asks if he can go for a smoke and of course you allow him to do so. If you smoke he’ll let you take a couple of puffs of his cigar. However he’ll use this as an excuse to steal a kiss since every time you lean in to put the cigar between your lips, he’ll place a kiss on your lips. If you don’t smoke he’ll have you light his cigar for him. He’ll playfully pulls you closer by your wrist, as you go to light his cigar for him, callused thumb mindlessly stroking it while you light it for him.

He stays in your embrace while smoking his cigar, enjoying your presence and your gentle touch.

From the bathroom window you can see that the sun is starting to set and the clouds of smoke that whirl around in the air become more prominent.

Price hooks his arm around your leg and mindlessly drags his hand along your thigh while he smokes his cigar.

“Thank you for doing this for me, love” he says and despite the clouds of smoke that swirl around in the air, you can still see the grateful smile on his face.

“No need to thank me ” you chuckle as you continue to cut his hair for him.

Once it’s done, you hand him a small mirror so that he can take a look at his hair. He takes a brief look in the mirror before he turns to you with a big smile on his face.

“It looks great,”

Truth be told he barely looked at his hair, didn’t see the crooked line or the uneven patches around his head (not that he would mind if he were to notice it anyway). All he saw in that very moment was your reflection in the mirror, the way you nervously chewed your lip, and the hopeful look in your eyes as you waited for him to comment on his new haircut.

Once it’s inspection day you’re back in that very same bathroom with him. He’s looking at himself in the mirror while you’re standing behind him with a comb in hand. His hair is still short and will surely pass inspection but you still want to comb and style it for him, claiming he needs to look professional and well groomed, seeing as he’s the captain.

“There, all done” you say with a smile on your face, finally feeling satisfied with the look of his hair. All of sudden he turns around, hands gently grabbing onto your hips before he pulls you closer to him. You’re still looking at his hair, searching for any imperfections that need to be corrected while he’s watching you with an adoring gaze. Once you spot a strand out of place, you lick the pad of your thumb before gently slicking it back with the rest of his hair.

You go to pull your hand away but before you can do so he gently wraps his hand around your wrist and brings your hand closer to his lips before he kisses it.

“Thank you again, love”

[kcrabb88]

Queer Movies/Books/TV Shows for Pride Month!

Happy Pride everyone!! For your viewing/reading pleasure I have made a (non-exhaustive) list of queer media that I have enjoyed! 

Movies/Documentaries

Pride (2014): An old tried and true favorite, which meets at the intersection of queer and workers’ rights. A group of queer activists support the 1985 miners’ strike in Wales (complete with a sing-through of Bread and Roses + Power in a Union)

Portrait of a Lady on Fire: On an isolated island in Brittany at the end of the eighteenth century, a female painter is obliged to paint a wedding portrait of a young woman (or, two young lesbians fall in love by the sea, and you cry)

God’s Own Country: Young farmer Johnny Saxby numbs his daily frustrations with binge drinking and casual sex, until the arrival of a Romanian migrant worker for lambing season ignites an intense relationship that sets Johnny on a new path (Seriously this movie is GREAT and doesn’t get enough love, watch it! It’s rough but ends happily)

The Half of It:�� When smart but cash-strapped teen Ellie Chu agrees to write a love letter for a jock, she doesn't expect to become his friend - or fall for his crush (as in she falls for his crush who is another girl. This movie was so good, and really friendship focused!) 

Saving Face:  A Chinese-American lesbian and her traditionalist mother are reluctant to go public with secret loves that clash against cultural expectations (this is an oldie and a goodie, with a happy ending!)

Moonlight:  A young African-American man grapples with his identity and sexuality while experiencing the everyday struggles of childhood, adolescence, and burgeoning adulthood (featuring gay men of color!)

Carol:  An aspiring photographer develops an intimate relationship with an older woman in 1950s New York (everyone’s seen this I think, but I couldn’t not have it here)

Milk: The story of Harvey Milk and his struggles as an American gay activist who fought for gay rights and became California's first openly gay elected official (the speech at the end of this made me cry. Warning, of course, for death, if you don’t know about Harvey Milk)

Pride (Hulu Documentary):  A six-part documentary series chronicling the fight for LGBTQ civil rights in America (they go by decade from the 50s-2000s, and there is a lot of great trans inclusion in this)

Paris is Burning (Documentary): A 1990s documentary about the African American and Latinx ballroom scene. Available on Youtube!

A New York Christmas Wedding:  As her Christmas Eve wedding draws near, Jennifer is visited by an angel and shown what could have been if she hadn't denied her true feelings for her childhood best friend (this movie is SO CUTE. It’s really only nominally a Christmas movie and easily watched anytime. Features an interracial sapphic couple!) 

TV Shows 

Love, Victor: Victor is a new student at Creekwood High School on his own journey of self-discovery, facing challenges at home, adjusting to a new city, and struggling with his sexual orientation (this is a spin-off of Love, Simon, and it’s very sweet and well done! Featuring a young gay man of color)

Sex Education:  A teenage boy with a sex therapist mother teams up with a high school classmate to set up an underground sex therapy clinic at school (this has multiple queer characters, including a featured young Black gay man and also in season 2 there is a side ace character!) 

Black Sails: I mean, do I even need to put a summary here? If you follow me you know that Black Sails is full of queer pirates, just queers everywhere.

Gentleman Jack:  A dramatization of the life of LGBTQ+ trailblazer, voracious learner and cryptic diarist Anne Lister, who returns to Halifax, West Yorkshire in 1832, determined to transform the fate of her faded ancestral home Shibden Hall (Period drama lesbians!!! A title sequence  that will make you gay just by watching!) 

Tales of the City (2019):  A middle-aged Mary Ann returns to San Francisco and reunites with the eccentric friends she left behind. "Tales of the City" focuses primarily on the people who live in a boardinghouse turned apartment complex owned by Anna Madrigal at 28 Barbary Lane, all of whom quickly become part of what Maupin coined a "logical family". It's no longer a secret that Mrs. Madrigal is transgender. Instead, she is haunted by something from her past that has long been too painful to share (this is based on a book series and it’s got lots of great inter-generational queer relationships!) 

The Haunting of Bly Manor:  After an au pair’s tragic death, Henry hires a young American nanny to care for his orphaned niece and nephew who reside at Bly Manor with the chef Owen, groundskeeper Jamie and housekeeper, Mrs. Grose (sweet, tender, wonderful lesbians. A bittersweet ending but this show is so so wonderful)

Sense8: A group of people around the world are suddenly linked mentally, and must find a way to survive being hunted by those who see them as a threat to the world's order (queers just EVERYWHERE in this show, of all kinds)

Books

Loveless by Alice Oseman:  Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush – but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she’s sure she’ll find her person one day. This wise, warm and witty story of identity and self-acceptance sees Alice Oseman on towering form as Georgia and her friends discover that true love isn’t limited to romance (don’t be turned off by this title, it’s tongue-in-cheek. This is a book about an aroace college girl discovering herself and centers the importance and power of platonic relationships! I have it on my TBR and have heard great things)

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters: Reese almost had it all: a loving relationship with Amy, an apartment in New York City, a job she didn't hate. She had scraped together what previous generations of trans women could only dream of: a life of mundane, bourgeois comforts. The only thing missing was a child. But then her girlfriend, Amy, detransitioned and became Ames, and everything fell apart. Now Reese is caught in a self-destructive pattern: avoiding her loneliness by sleeping with married men.Ames isn't happy either. He thought detransitioning to live as a man would make life easier, but that decision cost him his relationship with Reese—and losing her meant losing his only family. Even though their romance is over, he longs to find a way back to her. When Ames's boss and lover, Katrina, reveals that she's pregnant with his baby—and that she's not sure whether she wants to keep it—Ames wonders if this is the chance he's been waiting for. Could the three of them form some kind of unconventional family—and raise the baby together?This provocative debut is about what happens at the emotional, messy, vulnerable corners of womanhood that platitudes and good intentions can't reach. Torrey Peters brilliantly and fearlessly navigates the most dangerous taboos around gender, sex, and relationships, gifting us a thrillingly original, witty, and deeply moving novel (again, don’t be thrown off by the title, it too, is tongue-in-cheek. This book was GREAT, and written by a trans women with a queer-and especially trans--audience in mind)

A Tip for the Hangman by Allison Epstein: A gay Christopher Marlowe, at Cambridge and trying to become England’s best new playwright, finds himself wrapped up in royal espionage schemes while also falling in love (this book is by a Twitter friend of mine, and it is a wonderful historical thriller with a gay man at the center).

Creatures of Will and Temper by Molly Tanzer: a very very queer remix of The Picture of Dorian Gray (which was already quite queer), featuring amazing female characters, a gay Basil, and a much happier ending than the original. 

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston: The gay prince of England and the bisexual, biracial first son of the president fall in love (think an AU of 2016 where a woman becomes president). Featuring a fantastic discovery of bisexuality, ruminations on grief, and just a truly astonishing book. One of my favorites!

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston:  For cynical twenty-three-year-old August, moving to New York City is supposed to prove her right: that things like magic and cinematic love stories don’t exist, and the only smart way to go through life is alone. She can’t imagine how waiting tables at a 24-hour pancake diner and moving in with too many weird roommates could possibly change that. And there’s certainly no chance of her subway commute being anything more than a daily trudge through boredom and electrical failures. But then, there’s this gorgeous girl on the train (This is Casey McQuiston’s brand new novel featuring time-travel, queer women, and I absolutely cannot WAIT to read it)

The Heiress by Molly Greely: Set in the Pride and Prejudice universe, this takes on Anne de Bourg (Lady Catherine’s daughter), and makes her queer! 

Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters:  Nan King, an oyster girl, is captivated by the music hall phenomenon Kitty Butler, a male impersonator extraordinaire treading the boards in Canterbury. Through a friend at the box office, Nan manages to visit all her shows and finally meet her heroine. Soon after, she becomes Kitty's dresser and the two head for the bright lights of Leicester Square where they begin a glittering career as music-hall stars in an all-singing and dancing double act. At the same time, behind closed doors, they admit their attraction to each other and their affair begins (Sarah Waters is the queen of historical lesbians. All of her books are good, and they’re all gay! The Paying Guests is another great one)

(On a side note re: queer books, there are MANY, these are just ones I’ve read more recently. Also there are a lot of indie/self-published writers doing great work writing queer books, so definitely support your local indie authors!) 

[lord-explosion-baku]

Keep Away

Yandere!Bakugou x reader

It’s a special occasion, so Bakugou decides to wine and dine you. It’s too bad for him that you’re intent on ignoring him.

Warnings: yandere, dark themes, lime, forced orgasm, minor food kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, light violence

A/N: I woke up at like three in the morning and decided to finish this. I saw a bad ending to a certain cyberpunk bl dating sim, and thought “would be kinda cool to be force fed cake,” but then it didn’t really turn into all that much cake feeding which is probably for the best. Who’s to say. It’s just kinda fun to say “it came to me during a cyberpunk bl dating sim bad end,” rather than, “it came to me in a dream.” Also, I’m so sorry if you read this and go “ew strawberry cake isn’t my jam. Belgium chocolate 5evah!!!!1!!” but if you do happen to like strawberry cake, I got you fam. 

“So you’re not talkin’ to me now, is that it?”

You keep your gaze low, careful not to even lock eyes with your captor—because no, you’re not talking to him, you’re not looking at him, you’re not even going to acknowledge his existence. It’s your verbal keep away. You’ve decided that it’s the worst possible punishment for Bakugou—ignoring him. You’ve tried just about everything: screaming at him, hitting him, crying to him, begging for your release, and it’s all given you nothing. You figure, why be anymore of a source for his entertainment?

“You should at least thank me for cookin’ you a proper meal.”

From across the candlelit table, Bakugou uncrosses his arms, glaring from the admittedly very well-made plate, to you. He clicks his tongue when you don’t respond, then moans around a mouthful of pad-see-ew, just like he knows you can’t stand.

“It’s so good, baby. Practically melts on my tongue…”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at that. It would be different if it wasn’t his food he complimented, but that’s Bakugou for you. Insolent, prideful, and terrible.

Bakugou stabs his chopsticks into his plate. “You’re not wearing the dress I bought. Not good enough for you?”

You didn’t even try it on. You want to tell him, but that would only spur him on. Bakugou likes it when you challenge him. He always gets that stupid smirk on his face, that daring look in his eye—always like he’s ready to bend you over and fuck you into submission. More often than not, that’s what ends up happening.

“Your ass would look great in it,” he says before taking another mouthful. You can feel his crimson glower scorching your skin, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You can wear whatever you want, though. I want your ass even in those sweats.”

You exhale and lean back back in your chair. He really has to be so vulgar, doesn’t he? Well, that’s not gonna make you crack.

“Yeah, I won’t force you in it. Not yet, at least.” Bakugou grins at the thought, chewing loudly. “I wouldn’t mind playing a little dress up with my doll.”

Your lip twitches, and you hope he doesn’t see. You have to squeeze your thighs together and ignore impending thoughts of Bakugou’s hands on you—first tearing your clothes off, then slowly, sensually zipping that tight, black dress up. You can’t keep from imagining his lips grazing your back, hands running through your hair, him pressing into your backside…

“Need some water, babe? You’re looking a little flushed.”

Your eyes snap to Bakugou’s and your cheeks warm even more when you realize he’s just caught you fantasizing. At least he doesn’t know what you were thinking about. Christ, you could only imagine the field day he’d have with you if he found out you ever thought about him like that.

After you’ve spent plenty of time hating yourself for having these thoughts, you’ve come to the conclusion that it has to be natural. In a psyche class you’ve taken, you learned a bit about Stockholm syndrome, and though you’re sure you’re definitely not falling in love with your captor, it’s perfectly fine that you occasionally think about him in the lusty kinda way. Admittedly, he’s earned it with the amount of orgasms he’s given you since you’ve been taken. But he hasn’t earned your love. Definitely not.

Bakugou stands, folding his napkin onto the table, and walks over to the ice chest he has on standby. He’s wearing his red dress shirt, paired with that white floral vest and nice slacks. You want to know what the occasion is for, but you won’t ask. You’re definitely underdressed, and a part of you wishes you had put on that dress he picked out for you.

You close your eyes and empty your mind of such stupid thoughts.

“How about some champagne?” Bakugou flips a knife out and cuts the cork off with a pop!, making you jump a little bit. He glides over to you, puts his hand on your shoulder, leans in, and fills the crystalline flute sitting on the table. He smells like spice and that natural burnt toffee aroma he has. It’s so nice that you can’t help but lean into him just a teeny bit. And he notices.

“You’re gonna eat somethin’ for me, yeah?” he whispers lowly into your hair before kissing your temple. You freeze while he moves down your neck, brushing a finger along the opposing side of your face, coaxing your head to turn. “Or are you not in the mood for Thai? We can always skip straight to dessert.”  

Bakugou dips down to kiss you, but you turn so he misses and kisses your ear. He growls out a sigh and you clench your hands into fists. You’re waiting for it—for him to lose his cool. You don’t know why he’s trying to act kindly to you, but that’s sure to end at any moment, and when it does, he’s going to feel guilty. You’re planning on exposing him as the monster you’re always accusing him of being.

“I’m serious, I made cake,” he says, a slight edge in his voice. He twirls a finger around a strand of your hair, tugging it so you face him. “Your favorite. Strawberry cream frosting, and it tastes fucking fantastic.”

Bakugou’s gaze drops down to your lips before finding your eyes. “I could feed it to you—have you lick that sweet cream right off the tips of my fingers.”

Your scowl tightens on him. He smirks.

“Your lips always look the prettiest when they’re wrapped around something. I’m startin’ to really like that idea.”

“Why?” you bite out, because you can’t take it anymore. You’re either going to die from curiosity or die from embarrassment when he inevitably undresses you and finds out just how much his teasing gets to you, and you won’t let him have that.

Even still, Bakugou looks as triumphant as ever because you gave him what he wants: your attention.

“Why what, huh?”

“Why the dress!” You bark, resolve out the damn window. “The meal, the champagne, the cake?! Why are you trying to be so nice to me all of a sudden?”

“I’m not trying to be nice. I am nice.” Bakugou rolls his eyes as if he’s explaining something simple to a child.

“No, you’re not!” You insist. “You’re...you’re…” Shock sets in and your shoulders grow rigid. He couldn’t possibly be...but if he is...he’d be absolutely daft to think you’ll say yes. “You’re not proposing to me, are you?”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s eyes widen. You definitely caught him off guard, and you could melt from the steaming blaze in your cheeks. “You want me to put a rock on those pretty fingers of yours? Make an honest man out of me?”

“No! No!” You exclaim on a head shake. “I just thought...with the whole atmosphere-“

“Princess,” he interrupts, taking your hand into his. He brings the back of your wrist to his lips, and for a moment, you think you could be right about him proposing after all. At least, until he speaks again. “We ain’t gonna get hitched ‘til you’re good and knocked up—at least four months in, too. That way, there won’t be a chance in hell you can skip out on me.”

There won’t be a chance in hell he will knock you up with your IUD in, so good luck to him on that endeavor. It’s not like he doesn’t know about it, either. There’s a reason why he’s never been hesitant to enter you unwrapped. Although, considering what he just said, you don’t believe he’d be any different if the circumstances were different.

Your lips curl into a snarl. “Then what’s going on?!”

“You seriously don’t know?” He scoffs, then leads your hand to your champagne flute. Once you take it, Bakugou tells you he’ll be right back, and you down the drink. You let the bubbles wash down your throat and quickly take a bite of noodles before he sees. You sigh. They really do melt on your tongue. Bastard.

Before you know it, the faint smell of burning wics envelope your space, and all the lights in the room besides the candles on the table dim. Then, there’s a cake placed in front of you—pink, with intricate, white designs lining its frosted edges. You count the candles and there are exactly the same amount of years you’ve been on this earth, plus one—no, not plus one.

You look up to Bakugou for an explanation. He’s simply grinning down at you, looking proud.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Bakugou kisses the top of your head. “Make a wish.”

Absently, you blow the candles out, but you don’t make a wish, because your brain is too busy doing mental math. On your last birthday, you’d gone on a date with Hitoshi Shinsou. He took you to a cute, little café, bought you a coffee and a tiny cake. He’d ended the night with one of the shyest, sweetest kisses you’ve ever received. Not even four days later, Bakugou took you. You never got to thank Shinsou for that perfect day.

The hair on the back of your neck rises with the sudden realization that you’ve been with Bakugou for nearly an entire year. That’s one year of your life ripped away from you. One year where you haven’t made any progress achieving your dreams. One year that you’ll never get back.

“What’d ya wish for?” Bakugou asks, but you hardly hear him due to the scathing fury that rings in your ears and burns your back. You’re unsure of what you should say or how you should react; you already pulled the silent treatment and you think you’re far too livid to go zipping your lips again.

There’s only one thing you can do: go absolutely batshit crazy.

“I hate you!”

With a quick shuffle, the cake is splattered on the table, your plate flies across the room, and chopsticks are in your hand, aiming for Bakugou’s eyes. It’s too bad for you that Bakugou either expects it, or his reflexes are just so good that he catches you by the wrist before you can stab him. You’re immediately twisted around, chest on the table, arm pinned to your back, and his erection pressing into your ass.

“Yeah? You hate me?” Bakugou’s voice is erratic, husky, dripping with lust. He climbs on top of you, grinds into your behind, and hisses, “wanna say that again?”

“Let me go, asshole!” You below and try to buck him off of you, which only encourages him to pull your arm tighter, forcing you into paralysis. You grit your teeth while tears sting your lower lashes. The only weapon you have is your voice, and that’s always proven ineffective against him in the past. Still, you can’t stop yourself from yelling. “It’s been a goddamn year! I’m sick of being your prisoner!”

“Is that right?” Bakugou shifts, and you hear the sounds of metal clanking. You know instantly that he’s taking off his belt. You writhe as much as you possibly can, fearing a lashing. He hasn’t ever really hit you before, and though getting him to the point had been your end goal, taking the belt is a whole other level of pain you’re not willing to endure.

“Katsuki,” you pant, desperate. “Please, no. Please don’t. It’s...it’s my birthday!”

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Bakugou releases your wrist, and goes for your hair instead. He yanks you back so that his chest presses against your back. His lips are against the junction of your shoulder and neck as he growls, “after everything I’ve fuckin’ done for you? Ungrateful little slut.”

He pulls your sweats down, cupping your ass roughly with his large, calloused hands. They feel good—his rough touch against your soft cheeks—and despite feeling fearful for the state of your ass, you can feel yourself getting aroused. “I really gotta put you in your place today of all days?” He squeezes your ass tight and possessive, like he owns it, and in the moment, you can’t really say that he doesn’t.

“No,” you cry and god you’re pathetic. You had this entire plan set up and now it’s barreling out of your control. As his lips graze your shoulder, you let out a sigh and say, “the cake was really, really pretty, Katsuki. I’m sure I would’ve loved it. I’m sorry I did that. I just…”

“Just what?” He rasps against your neck before his hot tongue draws a long line across your skin, making you shiver in response.

“I was just...overwhelmed,” you admit. “Our anniversary-“ you choke out, the words sour on your tongue, but you manage to make it sound sweet-“is just around the corner. I wasn’t prepared...I don’t have a whole lot of resources to do something special for you…”

Katsuki Bakugou sure is a lot of things, but he’s not a moron. You’re positive he can read your facade like a book and he’s certainly not one to play along. .

“Oh yeah? You wanna do something for me?” He sucks in your earlobe between his teeth, nibbling playfully. You mewl as Bakugou reaches around your body, large fingers moving down the front of you and sliding down your pubic bone. He dips two fingers between your lips, swiping smugly at the traitorous puddling at your core. “Is this really what gets you off, sweetheart? Lying to me just so I get a little rough with you?”

“N-no.” You try to sound stern, sure of yourself, but Bakugou is light to the touch, fingers barely teasing your sensitivity. You catch yourself grinding into them, directly resulting in your ass moving against his erection. You can feel him pulse against you, and it only makes your pussy throb in direct result, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Just admit you want me,” he seethes, pressing more firmly against you while his middle finger teases your entrance. “You like me like this. You don’t want sweet—you want me to be a hard ass, don't you? Why else would you act like such a slutty little brat? Good girls don’t get wet after shit like this, baby. Good girls don’t like to be thrown around.”

“Katsuki,” you say on a sigh while bringing a hand to his arm, hoping to direct him to break through your surface.

“Put your hands on the table,” he growls.

“Please.” You ignore him, pulling his arm more insistently, needing him to deepen his touch.

“This is the last time I’m gonna ask you; put your hands on the table, or I won’t hesitate to use this belt against your bare fuckin’ ass. I’ll lick you so good, you’ll have bruises for months. You’ll need to sit on a fuckin’ ice pack the next time I’m courteous enough to have you dine with me at my table.”

Shuddering, you obey him, planting your palms against the flat of the table, away from the splattered cake. Bakugou lets out a contemptuous scoff, brings your wrists together, and easily wraps his belt around them, tight and with no leeway.

He then pushes your shirt up so that it’s around your wrist with the belt, and pulls your sweats down all the way off of your legs. You’re virtually naked in front of him, with the exception of your bra and panties, helpless to do anything about it. Just like he likes it. He always wants you to bite back until he gets you to submit. He was probably enjoying your little silent treatment show, too; it was just another kind of rebellion, another barbel that he’s fought and won.

A tingle runs down your spine as he traces it with calloused fingers. You feel your stomach tighten from anticipation when he reaches your tailbone and his touch leaves your body. You hear him chuckle as he pulls at a strap of your thong, snapping it back into place. “At least I know you like the panties I got you.”

Pain bursts on your right cheek as the sound of his sharp slap ricochets around the dining room. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out—even still, you’re trembling when he rubs the sore spot.

“Awww,” he coos, snickering. “You gonna try and act tough?”

You exhale, trying and failing to keep a steady breath, but it’s all wrong and you’re already panting.

“Show me how much you hate me, baby, I wanna hear you sing it.”

The next lick comes without any precursor, no warning, no time for you to brace yourself, so when he slaps your ass, you can’t help but cry out—ecstatic or indignant—it’s not your place to decide.

“Katsuki!” You fall forward, forehead on the table, inches away from the ruined cake.

He chuckles at your position, petting the back of your hair. “If you want me to stop, you’re gonna have to lick it up, Princess.”

Your eyes narrow and you shoot a sideways glare back at him. “I’m not a dog.”

His lips tilt sideways, cocky and annoyingly hot, cheeks red, brow raised provocatively. “You sure look like a bitch to me.”

He spanks you a third and fourth time, and your mouth hangs open with unspoken yelps, a familiar, shameful feeling traveling down your stomach to your throbbing heat.

Taking a second, Bakugou dips his fingers into the pink frosted mess in front of your eyes, and brings it to your mouth. “Taste it for me. I worked hard to get the flavor right,” he commands, smearing the cream over your bottom lip. You’re helpless to oblige. Only, when you stick your tongue out, he pushes two fingers into your mouth.

“Bite me, and I’ll have you tied up for the entire night. I’ll make you scream until you’re on the edge of passing out, then I’ll fuck you awake. I’ll use you—fill every hole you’ve got ‘til you’re nothing but a leaky drainpipe full of my cum. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhmm…” Not wanting to test to see if he was just making empty promises, because he never makes empty promises, you glide your tongue around his fingers, aiming to please. You let out a soft, appreciative hum when you taste the sweet, strawberry flavored frosting, and suck his fingers clean.

“Good girl,” he says, his fingers leaving your mouth, only to dip back into the cake. He brings them back to your lips and you take him in willingly. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word out of that pretty little mouth, until I tell you to speak. Understand?”

You look at him with affirmation. He spanks you again.

Your body jolts, spit and cream drooling out of your mouth as you moan, trying not to utter a comprehensive word. The vibrations from the impact sends waves of pleasure dancing across your clenching heat. He hasn’t even really touched your sex, and yet, you feel the coils of an approaching orgasm winding up in the pit of your stomach.

The sixth and seventh spank has tears falling down your cheeks. The heat is too much to bear and you can feel sweat sliding down your back. You want to warn him—to request that he takes a break, because the oncoming shame that’s making your toes tingle and your heart race might be a little more humiliating than having him torture you for the entire night. But you say nothing, your curiosity besting your dignity. The next spank does you in. Your body shakes as you wail, your coils breaking while you pool out, thighs sheened with your arousal. There’s absolutely no hiding yourself, and Bakugou is going to be all too smug about this. You simply cannot believe yourself.

“No way,” Bakugou husks, fingers leaving your mouth. You’re panting again when he brings his fingers to your fluttering pussy. He pushes them in and all you can offer is a sigh when he’s up to his digits in you.

“Aww...oh no.” You can’t tell if his concern is genuine or not, but it doesn’t matter to you. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, and defeated. He’s never going to let you live this down. You can already hear his future taunts buzzing around in your head. ‘You can’t pretend like you don’t like me when I’ve made you cum just by spanking your perfect little ass.’

God-fucking-damn it.

He has all the merit to tease you for it now, and you’re expecting him to—hell, you’re practically bracing yourself for it, but instead, he pulls his fingers back and pushes your bottom over, so you face him.

“Ah~Ow!” You wince when your butt hits the table.

“Ah. C’mere.”  He frowns and pulls you up by the belt at your wrist. You don’t stop yourself from falling into his embrace. He might be the source of all of your dread, but he’s also your only means of comfort. You let your tears roll onto his chest, muffling your sobs into his shirt. He hushes you, nails tickling your back as he kisses your hair. “S’okay, princess. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“I’m s-sorry,” you cry, and though your wrists are still bound, you manage to clutch onto his shirt. You pull him into you, shamelessly reveling in the familiarity of his scent.

“Hmm?” He lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What for?”

Your lips tremble and you shake your head, unable to voice exactly what you’re sorry for. Climaxing? Telling him that you hate him? Treating him so poorly when all he does is take care of you? You shake your head again when the actualization of your situation sets into the forefront of your mind. There’s practically a river of tears streaming down your face now and you wish for nothing more than to do disappear, because you’re a stupid girl, there’s cake in your hair, and Stockholm syndrome is bullshit!

“What is it?” He insists, he is tone low, caring.

Dumb. You’re so dumb. Your brain is screaming at you to not say anything, but your skin still buzzes from the thrill of your orgasm. Despite loathing yourself more than ever, you’re practically high, both from catharsis and euphoria.

“I don’t...hate you.” It’s small but it’s there—your voice. There’s a lot to decode from your confession, and by the way Bakugou’s eyes soften just the tiniest bit, you know that he knows what you will not say..

His thumb brushes across the corner of your mouth, wiping away at some residual frosting, then brings it up to where your lips part.

“I know,” he says as you take him in again, swirling your tongue around his thumb, now enjoying the taste of the cake. “Of course I know.”

Your heart swells when he doesn’t laugh at you. He doesn’t even look all that proud of himself. He simply gazes at you with adoration and amazement—and, of course, lust because you have your lips wrapped around something. Prick.  

“That was very hot, babe,” he says before kissing your forehead. “I really didn’t think that you could be so responsive to me.” He chuckles darkly, but it lacks his familiar malicious undertone. “Don’t really feel like I earned it, either.”

His thumb leaves your mouth, slides against your bottom lip, and is abruptly replaced with a kiss. Bakugou’s tongue teases your mouth open, then caresses yours with his. “Mmm,” he hums, the reverberations of his voice sending sensational buzzes down your neck. He nips at your bottom lip, then smirks against you. “Tastes good.”

He kisses you again, molding his lips perfectly to yours, and you feel his arousal poke at your bound hands. Not quite lucid enough to think it through, but feeling a bit mischievous yourself, you cup his girth through his trousers, rubbing his hard length up and down. You run your tongue against his, wanting to taste the power he has over you.

“You want me, baby?” Bakugou asks, pressing himself more firmly into your hands. “You wanna feel me slide inside that wet pussy of yours?”

Still not willing to give him a verbal confirmation, you squeeze his cock, legs wrapping around his torso to pull him closer to you. He growls when you have him grinding against your heat, a dark stain appearing on the prominent bulge he rubs against you. When he pulls away, you see that his pupils are blown, barely a sliver of his crimson iris to be seen. He looks moonstruck, predatory, and beautiful.

“Naughty girl,” he scolds, a tick in his jaw. He pushes you lightly, easing so that your back is on the table, your legs spread out for him. He groans when he runs a finger up your damp, clothed slit.

“I asked you a question,” he continues, playing with your core. He gets a dreamy look in his eye when he pulls your panties to the side, and feels exactly how wet you are for him. Then, he shoots a scathing glower your way. “Do. You. Want. Me. To. Fuck. You?”

“Yes,” you say with a nod. “I want you to fuck me, Katsuki.”

“That’s really too bad.” He snickers arrogantly and your heart falls into your stomach. Didn’t you just have a soft moment?! “Only good girls get fucked, pretty baby. You can’t confess your undying love for me and expect that gets you out of your punishment.”

“I did not!” You argue which earns you a dangerous look.

“You and I both know what the hell you meant,” he says with a threateningly sexy lilt. “You can’t take something like that back at the drop of a hat.”

”I think you’ve punished me enough already,” you bite out defensively, quick to change the subject, because you‘re bitterly aware that he’s right.

“And who are you to decide that?” He smirks, brushing a thumb across your pubic bone. “Thought you were my prisoner.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

“No?” Bakugou gets down to his knees, leveling his face with your center. “Actions speak louder than words, angelface.” He kisses your clit, making the same noise he does when he’s trying to bother you while eating, only when he does it on your cunt, all of your nerve endings catch flame and you’re spiraling back to needy senselessness. “Prove to me that you’ve earned my cock by riding my tongue.”

He’s nothing if not altruistic when he’s between your legs. He’s always been generous and dedicated to getting you off, but there’s something different about how he’s moving now. He uses the flat of his tongue and draws languid strokes up your entrance, taking his time while he swirls around your clit. He groans into you, and if the vibrations of his voice weren’t enough to finish you off then and there, his fingers sure as hell do it for you. He pushes them into you, reveling in the feel of your spongy walls hugging him tightly. He traces intricate patterns across your skin, mapping out the places that make you moan the loudest, just to be keen on teasing you for harrowing minutes. He’s going about this agonizing slow, but there’s something about him taking his time, rather than completely ravaging you to prove just how good he is at eating you out, that already has your walls clamping down around his fingers, your back arching, whimpers and pleas tumbling out of your mouth.

It hits you like a brisk wave crashing against the oceanic shoreline. First it was one liquescent sensation, then a pandemonium of your nerves roaring to life. Your thighs close against his head, locking him into place while your fingers twine with his hair. He moans into you, multiplying the excruciating thrill tenfold. You rock against his tongue, savoring this magnificently prolonged ecstatic escapade.

When your nerves cool down and you’re no longer twitching too much, Bakugou offers you a wry grin before licking his lips.

“Look at what a mess you’ve become,” he coos , kissing your shaking thighs, eyes locked on yours. “Was that all because of me, princess.”

“I...don’t think I’ve come so hard in my life.” You breathe, disoriented by the fact. “Oh my god.”

“That so?” He asks as his tongue travels up your thigh.

Bakugou fervently laps up your post-orgasmic juices all the way back up to your drenched cunt. He groans dramatically while his tongue dives back into you. You’re far too sensitive now, and he doesn’t stop—he likes having you squirm around, bucking your hips this was and that, all attempts at finding an escape for his erotic torture futile. Soon he has you spasming out of control for the third time this night, and he rides the waves of your grudging pleasure with delight.

“K-katsukiiii, pleeease!” You’re breathless, hot, and irrational. He has a large hand gripped tightly on your side while three fingers continue to curl inside of you. “I can’t t-take it anymore! It’s t-too much!”

“What? You don’t think you’ve got another one in you?” He keeps your eyes locked on his as his hands push your thighs farther apart, his tongue slowly gliding across your throbbing clit.

You shake your head, practically sputtering your pleas. “I will do whatever you want, so please-“

‘’S that right?” Bakugou grins up at you, smug and triumphant. He pushes you farther up on the table and climbs over you, one hand at the side of your head, holding him up—the other reaching out to grab a coin-sized piece of cake. He presses it against your mouth as he prompts you with an, “ahh.”

“Ah,” you mimic and he pushes the cake into your mouth. The moment you swallow is the moment his lips latch onto yours. You taste your headiness mixing in with the creamy texture of the cake and you can’t help but moan openly into his mouth.

Bakugou ends the kiss too soon, catching you out of breath and wanting more.

“You can be a good girl, can’t you?” His voice is raspy, thick with need, and you know he’s close to falling apart. You want him to. You need him to. He’s broken you, so it’s only just that he breaks sometimes too.

You nod, cautious to see what he’ll be doing next. He’s certainly not taking off his pants, which was the only thing he should be doing.

He moves your arms over his shoulders and leans down low, breath hot on your ear. “You’ll do anything for my cock?”

“Yes,” you sigh and wish more than anything for your hands to be free so tear his shirt off.

“Because you don’t hate me at all. In fact, you fuckin’ love me. You love everything I do to you, but you’re too stubborn to admit it. That right?”

You scowl ahead, teeth clenched. “Yes.”

He draws a line with his tongue against the most sensitive part of your neck, making you shudder, and asks, “yes, what, princess?”

You narrow your eyes. “Yes, I am stubborn.”

With a “teh!” Bakugou kisses your cheek and leads you up so that you’re sitting straight, and guides you both carefully off the table, sweeping you up to carry you so that you don’t step in any of the food you’ve tossed around. He cradles you in his arms, you half-naked, him fully dressed, and smiles sardonically.

“I’m not gonna make you say it, because it is your birthday, but I will have you know that your punishment is not over.”

“You’re kidding me!” You bark back, leaning away to look him in the eyes to see if he’s serious.

“Sorry, baby.” He laughs. “But I had a romantic evening planned out for the two of us and you just had to throw your little bratty tantrums.”

“What do I have to do—?”

“—to get me to fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“You’re going to take a shower, put on that fuckin’ dress, then we’re gonna do this whole dinner thing over again. If you can behave, then maybe—maybe you’ll get my cock. If not—well princess, history tends to repeat itself, but I was hoping we could act like a normal couple just for one night. Thought maybe you’d be into it too, but that’s not what you want at all, is it?”

“I...want to be a normal couple,” you say unenthusiastically. You’re not sure if you meant you wanted to be a normal couple with Bakugou or if you wanted to be free and normal with somebody else entirely.

Bakugou snickers, as if you said something childish. “No you don’t.”

“Because you think I don’t want to be with you.”

“Nah...I know you want to be with me. But you don’t want to be a normal couple. You want this, babe. You want what we have. You want the chaos. You revel in it.”

“Well, I—“ you begin, desperate to find an argument point that doesn’t make you sound dumb. Is he right? Do you enjoy this? Everyday is like a game with him, and it drives you up the fucking wall, but what would you be without it?

“I hope you can keep your self-control,” you retort flippantly, abandoning the argument. “Hope your dick didn’t burst your buttons, Katsuki.” Your gaze drops down to the tent in his pants, then snaps pointedly back at his face.

He’s absolutely unfazed. In fact, he’s more chipper than you’ve ever seen him—like he’s the cat who caught the mouse. “Just for that, I’m gonna join you in the shower. Keep my belt around those wrists and have you watch me wash myself—see all that you’re missing out on.”

You groan, head falling into his chest as he begins walking towards the stairs. “I really do fucking hate you.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart,” he says back, a smile in his voice. “Just as long as you know that you’re not the only person here that knows how to play keep away.”

[airi-p4]

From above the stars - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | ... 

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Sorry for the long wait! I’m not forgetting about this story!! I love it and I’m stopping overthinking it so it can progress at last. I hope you enjoy 💙

Chapter summary:

Gabriel offers Marinette something unexpected she can't refuse. At the same time, Luka stops coming to the cemetery, and she can't help but worry: he had promised her he wouldn't disappear...

AO3

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CHAPTER 7 - Lost

Marinette was staring at Luka's only message on her phone, dated from the previous morning (the one he sent to confirm his contact), when she received a SMS: Gabriel Agreste.

She felt uneasy from being summoned again by her late ex-boyfriend's cold father, but despite hating the idea of meeting him, she got ready to pay him a visit. Gabriel Agreste received her coldly as always, but this time, instead of mourning his son, he had an offer she didn’t expect.

"Marinette. I want to reassume the fashion business. I need someone talented to take care of the designs of Agreste’s future collections and I’m confident you could fill in for that job position. I've seen your sketchbooks and Adrien was right: you're very talented."

Marinette didn't know what to say. It's true Adrien had mentioned showing her designs to his father, but he always ended up apologizing because, in the end, Gabriel would never listen to him. Marinette didn't have much time to think as his suggestion progressed.

"Bring me a few new designs the day after tomorrow and we can discuss this matter further. Take it as a test to see if you’re fit for that job position" He asked.

"The- the day after tomorrow…? I- haven't drawn much lately, I'm not sure I can-"

"I'm sure you won't disappoint me. I would really appreciate it if you joined the Agreste empire. You're the only one I can trust"

Marinette felt sick. Not only because of the autoritharism he launched towards her, but also by the word 'trust'. Was it fair he ‘trusted’ her when she was already moving on from the love she used to have for Adrien- his son? Wasn't she betraying both father and son if she accepted Gabriel Agreste's offer? What options did she have, though? She couldn't refuse- she had had her part to blame for the accident and had to take responsibility for her actions. For Adrien...

"Thank you, Mister Agreste. I- I'll try…" she answered unsecure.

"Good. You can go now. You have some designs to work with. See you the day after tomorrow, here, at the same time"

Marinette nodded at Gabriel's cold back in front of her before passing through the main gates of the mansion to the street. She would have been happy to receive a chance like this when she dated Adrien, but now…? She wasn't sure if she wanted it anymore. She knew she needed a job other than helping at her parents' bakery, but how was she supposed to design anything after months without properly working on her fashion designs? Moreover, working with Gabriel made her uneasy. She could already feel the pressure on her shoulders from a task she shouldn't have trouble to accomplish under normal circumstances. These weren't normal circumstances. She didn't belong to the Agreste family anymore, yet she couldn't find the courage to tell Mister Agreste- or worse: to disappoint him. He needed her and she didn't want to fail his expectations- especially when she felt she was partly at fault for his son's passing.

Snapping from her never-ending thoughts about her new job offer, Marinette checked Luka's message on her phone again. ‘Thank you for today’. No matter how many times she read it, it never failed to help her find some calm. Unknowingly, she would always embrace her phone and smile at it. 'I want to see you' Marinette thought on her way to the cemetery, after buying some flowers.

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Marinette knew she was supposed to work on her designs instead of waiting for Luka, but she couldn't stop herself. She waited, patiently, for hours, even for longer than the time he usually left… but nothing: he didn't come.

It wasn't like him to miss his visit to his sisters. Plus, he had promised her he wouldn’t disappear as long as anything unexpected happened. Marinette became anxious. 'Did anything happen to him? Did he catch a cold during the chill night? Did he become wary of her for depending and relying so much on him? Was his promise out of pity?' She couldn't know the answer.

Lonely and distracted, she went to Trocadero, where she usually hung around- either to babysit Manon, to draw and design or on her dates with Adrien- a place full of memories and her favorite corner in Paris. She expected to find the inspiration that used to overflow whenever she held a pencil in her favorite drawing spot.

She sat at the stairs and looked at her surroundings: the majestic Eiffel tower in front of her, the merry-go-round at her right, with cheerful children playing on it, the candy and ice-cream stalls at the left side. A pair of skaters racing, couples, families and groups of friends were also what Marinette's eyes usually enjoyed observing. She tried to look for inspiration on the landscape, but nothing. Her eyes may have been looking at Trocadero, but her head was somewhere else: Luka. She couldn't help but worry something bad may have happened to him.

Inspiration didn't hit as she called it a day. Still concerned, she read Luka's message again before going to sleep.

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The next day the story repeated: her last message was still not marked as read, and Luka didn't appear at the cemetery. Two days in a row without him was starting to be too hard for her heart. She spent the afternoon at Trocadero again, and when she didn't expect it, as a way to cover her impatience and negativity, her solitude, her fears and her desire to meet him became her sole inspiration.

The morning after, Marinette woke up early to go to Agreste's mansion. Gabriel welcomed her with a hug, and soon he asked for her sketchbook. The old man's strict eyes observed: every detail, every color, every choice of fabrics… Marinette could feel his judging eyes on her through her pencil-drawn sketches.

"Marinette" Gabriel called after closing the sketchbook, and turning to face her with piercing eyes. "What's the meaning of this?"

"I- My new designs…" she answered, scared of his glacial look on her.

"This… this is absolutely worthless" he coldly stated, startling Marinette. "I can understand the negative and longing feelings, but this?” he signaled. “This is not Agreste's style. Can you imagine Adrien wearing any of those? What were you thinking? I'm so disappointed…" he sighed.

Marinette gulped and her body was trembling, afraid of the cold man in front of her. She should have imagined her drawings would turn out to be not of Gabriel's likings. It was obvious they didn't fit with Agreste's style, with elegance and high-class as its trademark. She had been inspired by Luka, and the rock style of her newest drawings screamed his name everywhere. But it was the only thing she could come up with in her state, no matter how hard she tried.

"I'm so sorry… Let me re-do them, please" she begged, seeing the chance she had always dreamed about vanish before her eyes at that instant.

"You have one more day. I have great expectations put on you, Marinette. Show me your true potential- the designs my son was fond of"

"Yes sir. Thank you" she bowed her head, quickly excusing herself to walk through the main gates. She was trembling like a little mouse in front of its predator. She needed to throw out those disgusting feelings of inferiority and devaluing. She needed to recover her steady breath and calm. She needed Luka's presence close to keep her feet on the ground. She needed him to keep her sanity.

But, once again, he didn't come to the cemetery. Another day without him around. Another day with growing anxiety and worry. Another day of painful loneliness… but new designs still needed to be done...

Back at Trocadero, she decided to try to keep her head occupied with her drawings. She tried remembering her dates with Adrien- or what she used to base her designs on before.

She remembered walking hand in hand with him, sharing André's ice-cream, sharing one spoon, and being scolded by a baby's mother when she tried to give her baby a candy from the candy stall. She also remembered bumping with the flyer man- Mr Banana- when she had been rushed by Adrien, all his papers flying and scattered on the ground. She still felt a little bad for not helping him recover his flyers (especially when Adrien stepped on some of them). She also remembered riding the merry-go-round with her ‘Prince’ and she, his ‘Princess’. She remembered picnics with their best friends, too. Even the selfish, prideful and arrogant Chloe, Adrien's childhood friend, had finally accepted her as Adrien's girlfriend in front of the Eiffel tower. She wondered where her past friends were now.

The memories she had now were bittersweet- happy but also sad. How much truth and how much fantasy was in her memories? Adrien's perfection had been an illusion of hers. And their mutual friends 'friendship' appeared to be so too, when they hadn't called her in months. At least Chloe still greeted her when they met in the street, and she still brought Adrien flowers once a week. 'What was Gabriel looking for in her designs?' she had asked herself. Her answer was clear- 'the illusion of a perfect life'.

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Gabriel's eyes studied her newest designs the day after. Elegance, class, innovation- Gabriel's lips displayed a faint proud smile under his serious facade and Marinette could finally breathe.

"Marinette. You really are talented. You outdid yourself here" he said, closing her sketchbook to look at her. "I'm going to ask Nathalie to make your designs part of the new collection. With only a few arrangements they'll be perfect. Good job"

"Thank you, Sir", she bowed.

"As promised, I want you to be the new designer of the company. Take it as training. I expect you to become the pillar of this company in a few years". His chin raised to look at her from an upper position. Marinette’s eyes couldn’t possibly open more as she gasped.

"Wha-! With all my respect, I- I don't think I deserve that, Sir" her head sank between her shoulders.

"Nonsense. You're the only one who cared about my son. You're all I have left from him now, my daughter-in-law. You're the only one I can trust" he reassured her with a hand on her shoulders, under his melancholic facial expression. "I count on you"

"Yes, Sir" her mouth automatically responded. Gabriel hugged her in a grateful manner, before stating the work conditions: a full sketchbook of new designs per week. No fixed schedule, just a deadline every Friday. Marinette agreed with the conditions, still doubting her capabilities.

When she stepped out of the mansion, she wanted to scream, to cry, to jump… but most of all she wanted to meet Luka. Three days without him and she already felt like she was losing her mind. She hoped to finally meet him and hug him and tell him how much she had missed him- but nothing: no new flowers on his sisters tombstones apart from hers.

Disappointed and worried, she moved to Trocadero again. Her message to Luka was still unanswered and marked as unread. She contemplated the idea of calling him, but she supposed she would be a nuisance if he was at work- or maybe he was unreachable when he had yet to read her message. She had no claim on him, anyway. There was nothing else she could do. Before she could notice, tears were falling from her eyes.

She must have been showing a very depressing aura, because soon, André Glacier approached to offer her an ice-cream. The candy stall lady offered her a strawberry flavored lollipop and even Mr Banana offered her a paper crafted flower made out of his flyers.

For the first time, Marinette realized she was also part of the landscape she loved the most in Paris, and she was moved by their welcoming affection. The merry-go-round old man also offered her a blanket to rest on the grass. She was exhausted from the swirl of emotions she had been going on these past days and she soon fell asleep. She could have sworn she could hear Luka's guitar nearby- the song he always played- but her eyelids were too heavy to open. 'Luka…' she cried, and she entered dreamland with the feeling of someone's hand softly caressing her hair. Through her almost closed eyes, she could almost swear she saw nails painted in black, but she convinced herself she must have just dreamed it.

That night, she armed herself with courage and sent Luka another message. 'Let's meet tomorrow. I'll wait for you'.

Before going to sleep, she wished to the stars to meet him again… but they must have been angry at her because no one expected a strong windstorm for the next day. Marinette's parents forbade her to go outside in that weather, but she escaped through the back door and fought the winds to go to the cemetery.

'Why am I even here?' she thought, looking at the still unread message. 'There's no way he comes in this weather… I’m such a fool...' Marinette sighed. She could see some tree branches falling down; and cardboards, metallic plates and other pieces of various materials being carried by the windstorm. She sought refuge behind the Couffaine's family mausoleum, wishing for their forgiveness as the clock hit Luka's usual curfew.

He didn't come. Again.

Defeated, she reached for her phone: no new messages. 'What was the point of being there when he was obviously not going to come?' She felt stupid. And maybe she was. She probably was. Stupidly in love, she realized. Was she even allowed to love someone she had hurt so much? Did she even deserve his attention? Or his help? Will he ever come back to her? Was he even real?

She was losing her mind.

The strong howling winds were covering her loud painful shriek. Her hoarse throat felt ready to tear anytime as her crying amplified. When was the last time she cried like that? Right. After her first visit to Adrien's grave- months ago, when she first met with Luka.

"Luka… I miss you… I want to see you… please… I need to know you haven't left me behind too… please… don't leave me alone… Please… I need to know you're safe… I need you..." she cried in exhaustion, her body curled, sinking her head between her knees. With one last check on her phone, she lost all her hope: no new messages, despite the message marked now as read.

He willingly ignored her, she supposed, devastated. He didn't want to meet with her, didn't he? She was abusing his kindness when his suffering was worse than hers. And his sisters… Of course he would secretly hate her… Maybe living had no point anymore, she thought, utterly defeated by the depression she had been fighting since she woke up in that hospital room. Maybe it was her destiny, or a curse. Once again, she was surrounded by her inner darkness.

‘Maybe it’s time to give up…'

"Marinette!" She could hear someone calling. Probably her imagination, she assumed. "Marinette!" The same voice repeated- Luka's voice. She thought she was at the border of losing her sanity when he called again "Marinette!", but this time he appeared in front of her, sweating, with his hair messy from the wind.

If it weren't for how he ran to hug her immediately, she would have convinced herself he was a product of her imagination. But the touch was real. He was real. And he was there with her. "Luka…!" She cried, clinging to his clothes.

"What are you doing here in this windstorm? Haven't you seen the news? It's dangerous! You could have injured yourself" he scolded her, panicking and worrying. "What would I do if anything happened to you…?" he whispered, so low she wouldn't have heard him if his mouth weren't almost touching her ear.

"Luka... Luka! I was- so scared! And worried! I- I've missed you so much!" She screamed between whimpers, as her arms grip tightened around him.

"I'm here Marinette, it's ok. Sorry for being late" he apologized, hugging her tightly. "I'm so sorry"

"Luka, I-" before she could continue, two voices joined the wind sounds.

"Marinette?" "Marinette!"

"My parents," she gasped, recognizing their voices.

With his usual gentleness, Luka offered her his hand and helped her stand up, but she refused to let go of him.

"Go with them. They must be worried" Luka said in his usual calmed voice.

"But-"

"I'll be here as usual as soon as the weather allows me to. Rest assured". His hands on her shoulders were more reassuring than the unreadable look on his face, but he sounded sincere to Marinette and she decided to trust him.

"But- what happened? Why didn't you answer my messages? She cried. "You promised you wouldn’t willingly disappear and yet… I was so worried something bad could have happened to you..."

"I'm sorry, Marinette… Something happened, it’s true, but-” he looked away and took a deep breath before looking at the directions Marinette’s parents' voices came from. “I'll tell you next time. You better go now. Your parents sound very worried"

"Will you really come again?" Marinette asked, squeezing his hand, scared of him disappearing again.

"I promise. I won’t fail you again” He nodded. “Now go."

Marinette was hesitant, but she finally let go of his hand and started walking towards her parents' voices, encouraged by Luka's hurt smile and his slight push on her back.

"Mom! Dad!" She cried, running to hug them.

"Marinette! We were so worried! Why did you escape? It's dangerous! What if anything happened to you, all alone here…" her mother hugged her.

"No, mom. I wasn't alone… I was with-" she turned to signal Luka, but he was nowhere to be found. 'Did she imagine it?' she frowned her eyebrows in disappointment.

"Let's go home" her father said, with his arm behind her back.

Sad and confused, Marinette looked back once again, wondering if her meeting with Luka had just been a product of her imagination. But when she looked back again, he was indeed there, watching them from afar.

In relief, Marinette waved back at him, but he walked away- not before Marinette's mother caught a glimpse of him.

"See, mom? Luka was with me!" She signaled, noticing how she had seen him too. Sabine’s reaction was not what Marinette expected. She had a look Marinette’ had never seen before on her mother’s face: a mix of anger, sadness and fear. Her words only amplified the bad vibrations she was giving off.

"Marinette. You should stay away from that man" she coldly warned her daughter.

Marinette was confused. "Why?"

"Just stay away from him, please"

Why? Why did she have to stay away from Luka? Why would her mother dislike him? Did she know him? Why did it feel like everyone was keeping secrets from her?

Marinette didn't plan to listen to her mother. No matter how massive was the concern and fear her face reflected.

[ultimatebethylficlist]

Veteran Author of The Month: June 2021

The featured veteran author for June is also a co-admin right here at UBFL: SquishyCool (or @im-immortal )!

SquishyCool can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I’ve been a hardcore TWD fan since the show began airing, but that’s because of my love for zombies. In all honesty, I didn’t really ship anyone for the first 3-4 seasons. I kind of shipped Daryl with Carol, but then it became clear that it was a platonic relationship and in all honesty, I just wanted to see them both get some action lmao. Then the prison fell... and in those first moments of “Still,” when we see Beth and Daryl running and running and finally collapsing on the ground, breathless and exhausted... the butterflies started. Something clicked and I immediately thought, “uh oh.” The rest is history, especially considering how “Still” and “Alone” played out. I can’t explain how or why I’m still so heavily invested, especially considering my last 2 fandoms only kept my attention for about 2-3 years each, but here I am. And I love it! I am so incredibly grateful for the Bethyl fandom because not only has it helped me improve my writing so much more than I ever could have imagined, but it has also introduced me to some of the most amazing people, including someone who I now consider one of my very best friends! It’s my happy place :)

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

In The Maw by ronsparkyspeirs

Way Down We Go by LeathernLaces

Surfacing by lindentree

Wild Things (The Moonshine Poet) by Abelina

The Gift by Feliz

The Man Who Can't Be Moved by burningupasun

New Experiences Series by wallflow3r

Whisper Softly to Me by taylorcatherine

Interstice by leftmywingshome

To Love Like a Man by Seraphique

Death, Death (i defy thee) by alamorn

In My Blood by Courtneyshortney82

Let the Good Times Roll by gutsforgarters

Resolved by Allatariel

the weight of these wings by peachthorns

all my spaces are filled with you by annabeth_writes

A Little Jailbreak with the Little Jailbait by wandering_gypsy_feet

between the beginning and the end by sheriffandsteel

SquishyCool’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl. Thoughts: My first Bethyl fanfic. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason, though it is pretty rough. If I could go back, I never would’ve done it entirely in first-person. But I do plan to finish it one day. There are some scenes I’m particularly proud of, and I still have a long note full of ideas and plot points.

Most Wanted Summary: After Beth’s mother and half-brother are murdered in a drug war, the godly veil on the Greene Family operation is lifted, and law enforcement comes down hard. In an effort to protect her family, Beth commits a heinous crime that could mean life in prison alongside them. Now everyone she’s ever trusted is in police custody and her only chance at freedom is to get as far away from Atlanta as she can... Thoughts: Well, this is a must-read if you like my writing. I hope to one day convert this into an original fiction and maybe get it published, but I need to finish it first LOL. I got the idea from ONE scene of “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and from there, it exploded into a huge mystery thriller (with lots of romance and smut). I’m really really proud of it, and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up tbh, so I keep putting off continuing it. But I really need to get back to it because I really want people to see what I have planned! (Also, this fic is the reason @courtneyshortney82​ started talking to me, so that alone is pretty historic lmao)

The Crow’s Song Summary: Beth and Daryl spend a few more days together in the funeral home and come to terms with all they've lost along the way. But soon, they must decide what comes next. Thoughts: This fic... this fucking fic. It took me a full year to write. I made numerous edits. I even got a little depressed while I was writing the last two chapters, and my bf didn’t know why until he read what I’d been writing lol. It’s honestly the Bethyl fic I’ve always wanted to write but just didn’t know how. I’m still really really proud of how it turned out.

Carnival Games Summary: Daryl is a traveling carnival worker and Beth is a barely legal farmer's daughter looking for a night of fun when the carnival comes to town. Thoughts: Omg this fic is so fun!! One of my first Bethyl fics, and one of my first Bethyl smut fics. Short, sweet, a little funny, and a lot hot. I am still impressed with myself on this one, especially considering how much my writing has improved since lol

Breathe. Please. Summary: Beth shows up at the Hilltop. Alive. Daryl can hardly believe his eyes. Until she's lying in his bed, an arm's reach away. And he can hear her inhaling... exhaling... inhaling... Thoughts: Another “fix-it” that I’m proud of. Tbh I didn’t think it was anything all that special, but a lot of readers have said it’s one of their favorites, and some say they reread it regularly, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that, so I am extremely proud.

picking @ scabs Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, being with them just isn't right. But what wouldn't you give for it to be right? Can someone like Daryl learn how to swallow his pride and stop repeating the same mistakes over and over? Can someone like Beth learn to fight off her demons and allow him to get close enough to hurt her again? How can they stay away from each other when it's all too easy to fall back into one another? Picking a scab will leave a scar, but they both have so many scars already... what's a few more? Thoughts: This fic is very, very personal for me. It’s like my “therapy” fic. I have poured some of my deepest feelings and struggles into its chapters, and the whole idea that got me to start it was that I wanted to find a way to navigate and cope with ending my 3-year long relationship with my emotionally/mentally/sometimes physically abusive ex. I still have a lot of fond memories from that relationship, but even more so, I have painful memories. Not to mention, going through your early 20s as a woman in the modern day is a fuckin’ trip, so this kind of explores that. It’s really self-indulgent, I think, but I’m really proud of the smut in it. And more than that, I’m proud of the response. I’ve had a few people message me or comment to say that they’ve felt all those things, or have experienced similar things, and it’s really just... relieving. I put my heart and soul out there, and what I got back was “you’re not alone.” So yeah, this fic is special. I wanna finish it soon, but I have to be in A Mood to do so. 

In Toto Corde Summary: Despite a million reasons not to, Beth and Daryl fell in love. Then he made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep all of his promises. Now, facing unimaginable consequences at the hands of witch hunters, Beth has no choice but to use her powers to bring Daryl back from the dead. "He won't be the same..." Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC. I love it so much that I had to rewrite it after like 4 or 5 years. And I already started on a sequel that I really hope I’m able to finish. Though it doesn’t have many hits, and I don’t think many people have read it at all, which I understand since it basically is entirely focused around Daryl being killed. But damn, I’m proud of this one, and it was really fucking fun to write because witch!Beth is just... the best.

risk it all (part 1 of in for a penny, in for a pound) Summary: Daryl Dixon has a pretty decent life, all things considered. He's got his own place. A good dog. A few friends. Even a girlfriend. He keeps himself out of trouble. Until he starts texting Beth Greene. And hell, if he ain't about to risk it all for this damn girl. Thoughts: This was supposed to be one short multichapter fic focused entirely on smut and social media. Then I got on a roll and it ended up being the beginning of a series! This fic is purely fun. Nothing too serious or heavy. I write it when I’m in a Good Mood because it’s my little happy place. I have plans for about 4 more fics before the series will be finished!

Don’t Make Me Haunt You Summary: So here's the thing: Merle Dixon is dead as fuck. And as it turns out, Beth Greene is the only one who can see or hear him. Which is weird considering she's never met or even heard of this guy, let alone anyone with the last name Dixon. That's her first problem... Thoughts: The reception to this fic has absolutely blown me away. I had no idea anyone would want to read about ghost!Merle haunting Beth and forcing her to solve his murder with the help of his grumpy brother. And it was all inspired by an episode of South Park lmao then I started really getting into it and now it’s just like, my super fun fic where I explore a range of emotions and all kinds of religious beliefs and different mythologies and I can build the world however I want and goddamn I just love writing this fic. Plus there’s a podfic for it! I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this fic and how proud I am of it :)

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//general dating headcannons//

Characters: Komori Motoya/Oikawa Tooru/Sakusa Kiyoomi/Miya Atsumu

Request: bby ;-; HCs or scenarios of Komori, Oikawa and OmiOmi please cause my knee and back are screaming murder and I just want some love :'C (+Atsumu but homegirl forgot)

Warnings: some swearing and I make one sex joke

Word Count: 2.4K (~600 a piece)

Notes: I PROMISE i’ll get back to doing fics I’m just a weenie with AWFUL time management skills

Komori Motoya

My bleppy eyebrow boy oml i love him so much

Smooch his motherfucking eyebrows and watch him become a flustered mess.  I swear, if you don’t, I will.  

He’s already an absolute sweetheart, but when it comes to you?  It’s a whole new level of soft.  I’m talking like he’s going to be buying you little gifts all the time.  He’s a really good listener, so you could mention your favorite book once and he’s going to scour the internet for a collector’s copy, or you maybe briefly mentioned that you thought orchids were really pretty and this boy? He’s bringing you a bouquet of them on your next date.  

Your beauty is so ethereal to him, so Komori calls you his angel

He is just genuinely so proud to have you as his girlfriend??  Like, the fact that someone as incredible as you??? Wanted to date him?? It’s still a shock to him, but he’s so happy that you did.

Komori is a sucker for physical contact, so whether you’re in the comfort of your own home or out in public, he will be touching you in some way.

If you’re in public?  It really depends on your comfort level.  He’s down to have his arm wrapped lovingly around your shoulders, or if you’re not super into PDA, he’ll just hold your hand or just intertwine his pinky with yours.  If you guys are at a restaurant, he’ll brush his knee against yours if you're across from him.  If you’re next to him, he’ll just press his shoulder against yours.  Anything to be in constant contact with you.

But if you’re in private, this baby just wants cuddles.  Please face him while you two cuddle, because he honestly wants to give you all the sweet kisses on your nose and he’ll just stroke your cheek while the two of you just chat or enjoy each other's company.

I already said this earlier, but it needs to be repeated: SMOOCH HIS EYEBROWS

Komori likes to pretend that he hates it, but he’s kinda obsessed with it?  And if he’s having a bad day, he’ll just hint at you that he wants eyebrow kisses

He’s going to call you just to make sure that you’ve eaten.

Honestly, he’s a caller instead of a texter, just because he wants to hear your voice.  Is it a little inconvenient? Yes, but he thinks it’s worth it.

The two of you have probably sat on the phone for HOURS with very minimal talking, just the two of you going about whatever you’re doing, but just enjoying knowing that the other is there.

He doesn’t really get jealous?  He’s pretty relaxed and doesn’t really feel threatened by other people?  On the rare occasion that he is jealous?  He will walk up to you, plant a short kiss to your lips, and ask if you’re ready to go.  

Call him a shortened version of his name and he’s putty in your hands.  His favorite is ‘toya.’ But he’s also a weenie for really cute pet names like “pumpkin” or “sweetheart”

Say it with me everyone: Husband material.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Oh our stoic boy

I would love to tell you that he’s super sweet behind closed doors, but?? He’s just not.  He still has his calm, collected front.

Honestly?  It’s literally just because he’s never had a girlfriend before.  He’s still getting used to having someone that isn’t related to him tell him that they love him, so you’ll have to give him a little time to get used to this whole relationship thing.

There was definitely mutual pining going on on both sides.  You couldn’t tell if he liked you and he’s really prideful, so he didn’t want to be rejected, so there was a good three? Months of the two of you “talking” but even then it was really just him standing around in the hallway with his friends, and the two of you would always greet each other.  Maybe? MAYBE do a little small talk?

“Are you excited for your tournament this weekend?”

“I guess so.  Are you coming?”

Yeah.  That’s seriously his idea of flirting.

You’re inevitably the one who caves and just asks him on a date.  So, insert one (1) shocked Sakusa because he didn’t realize that you liked him too??

N E WAY.  He’s not a fan of PDA, but I’m sure that’s not a surprise to anyone.  The most he’ll do is drape his jacket over your shoulders as a sign that your his

But here is the surprise!  Once he gets a little more comfortable with you, he likes the physical contact.  If he thought you were germ-riddled, he wouldn’t date you, so it’s pretty easy for him to be okay with the contact.  Play with his hair?? Oh he’s in love.  That is his absolute favorite feeling.

Mask kisses? Mask kisses.  Speaking of masks, you two probably have a few matching ones that he got you for anniversaries or things like that.

He’s a big big fan of butterfly kisses or just nuzzling his nose against you?  It’s really sweet and intimate to him, so expect a lot of those if you two ever cuddle.

He’s a TALL mans, but he really doesn’t mind leaning down to kiss you.  If anything he thinks it’s even cuter that you’re smaller than him.

I would simply like to say beware of jealous Kiyoomi.  He’s not violent, but he’s really cold?  He’ll come up behind the guy who’s talking to you, likely towering over him.  Everything about Sakusa would be radiating this really dark aura.  He would probably just grab you by the wrist and pull you away from the encounter. 

But, he gets really soft afterwards?  Like he just wants to hold you and he’ll tell you over and over that he loves you just so he can hear you say it back.  

Kiyoomi usually has these soft moments when he feels threatened or if he’s just had a bad day.  He gets really, for lack of a better word, subby.  He wants to be cuddled and have his hair played with.  Be big spoon PLEASE and shower him with compliments.

He hates fighting with you, but the thing is.  He’s not really a scream-fighter?  He just gets really irritated, which is probably worse? Because then he really says the wrong thing and you’ll probably just leave.  There’s no use arguing with him when he’s like that.  He’s stubborn and doesn’t like to be wrong.

But he’s usually the first to apologize.  Especially if you’re genuinely upset.  It’ll be HOURS before he does say sorry, but if you’re not around, he’ll call you just to say that he’s sorry and that he didn’t mean it.

And then proceeds to ask you if you want ice cream, because he’s coming over to beg for cuddles.

Oikawa Tooru

I think I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again.

Oikawa Tooru is one of the biggest shit talkers that you will ever meet

I’m sorry did you actually think he was a player? No.  He’d be texting you about how much he wants to make out with you or ahem hit it until it breaks ahem but the moment the time comes?

FLUSTERED BOY

Like, he’s hiding his face in his hands so you can’t see just how red his cheeks are.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he’s just a pleaser and he’s nervous that you won’t like it.

Tooru is two completely different people when you’re out in public and when it’s just the two of you.

When he’s around others, he’s the cool, confident person that you first met.  He’ll have his arm around your waist, a smug smile on his lips, showing you off.  

But, alone?  Oh, this boy ;-; he makes me angsty so prepare yourselves

Tooru is super vulnerable when he’s just with you.  You’ll find him opening up a lot, especially if the two of you have been dating for a while or just have a really strong bond.  

He talks about his insecurities when it comes to volleyball and how he doesn’t feel like he’s good enough compared to Kageyama or some of the other incredible players on the court.

He’ll confide in you about he doesn’t feel like people see him. He thinks that people only care about him because he’s popular and attractive, not because of who he is as a person.

So, Oikawa likes to be the one being cuddled for sure.  He likes to lay on his bed with his head in your lap while you either play with his hair or just gently trace his features.

While he likes being told that he’s handsome, if you give him compliments on his personality, he’s a complete weenie.

Long drives with him are the BEST.  Especially night drives.  Those are his absolute favorite dates.  You two will go get fast food, drive out to the middle of nowhere, lay out a blanket to look at the stars, talking, eating chicken nuggets, sharing a Coke.  Yeah.  That’s the good shit right there.

Tooru. Likes. Podcasts. No, sorry.  He loves them.  

I think I mentioned this in a match-up, but he’s a horror/sci-fi junkie, so he really loves podcasts like “Welcome to Night Vale,” “Alice Isn’t Dead,” and “The Hidden Almanac.”

Watch horror films with him, please.  I promise, if you’re scared, he’ll let you bury your head in his chest.  He may laugh a little, but he will tell you that he thinks it’s cute.  If you don’t want to watch, that’s fine, but he’ll probably call you just to talk about it.

But, if you like that stuff too?  Movie marathons are a regular occasion for the two of you and you take turns sharing your favorites.

Oikawa is another one who just always wants to have contact with you.  He’ll kiss you in public, but he mainly likes to hold your hand.  He’ll swing them a little between the two of you as you walk and then bring your knuckles up to his lips just to give them a little kiss.  He kisses every knuckle bye

Every now and then his knee will get little sharp pains or just ache in general.  It can happen pretty randomly and he always feels guilty when it happens, because he needs to cut the date short, but he’s just in stupid amounts of pain and needs to lay down.

But, if you take care of him while he’s nursing his knee by bringing him water and painkillers, or pillows to prop his knee up, or even a heat pack to make it feel better?

He’s ready to wife you tf up.

Miya Atsumu

 I love Atsumu with my whole heart and I am so so sorry for hurting him

Unlike most people he’s around, Atsumu is a complete softie for you.  You’re his princess and he will treat you as such.  

He’ll bring you flowers ALL THE TIME.

Sometimes the notes attached will be really sweet.  Him telling you why he loves you or how happy he is to have you in his life.

Other times?  It’s probably some bullshit like “ur dumb” or some teasing remark about something ridiculous you said.  They’re all jokes and you get that, so they usually make you laugh.  You’ll probably give him a little “Hey!” of mock hurt and a little smack upside the head or on his chest, but you can’t hide the smile on your face, because despite the note, he did still get you flowers. 

Atsumu is a big big fan of PDA.  You know that thing from “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” where Peter puts his hand in Lara Jean’s back pocket?  Yeah.  He does that.  And he totally did not get it from that movie he did

He also likes to just have his arm around you so he can pull you into his side for maximum physical contact.

Wear his clothes and uhhhh atsumudotexe has stopped responding.  You just pull them off so well.  And if it’s a sweatshirt with his name on the back?  He will take a picture and it will be on his Snapchat/Instagram story and it will be his new lockscreen.

Call him ‘Mu.  He likes it so much more than any pet name you could ever give him.  Babe/baby is too common.  Sweetheart just doesn’t ft.  Honey/Hon isn’t really his vibe either.  He likes ‘Mu and you are the only person who’s allowed to call him that.  

He lets you wear his training jacket during games, just to kind of silently let everyone know that you’re his, but he’s so vocal about his relationship with you, that everyone already knows not to flirt with you

But on the off chance that they do?? Oh, dear.  He’s not even mean, he just has this really smug smile on his face when he approaches the guy talking to you.  He’ll step between the two of you and introduce himself, absolutely crushing the other guy's hand in a handshake, never letting his smile drop.  

Atsumu will ask what you’re talking about, inputting himself into the conversation, making some little snide comments to piss the other guy off.  He’s a slow burn kind of aggressive when he’s jealous.

He honestly isn’t super big into cuddling?  Like, if you want to, sure, but he’s never going to initiate cuddles.  

You’re more than welcome to sit in his lap facing him and bury your face in his chest or shoulder while rubs your back, though.  He’s a fan of that.  You just look really cute all snuggled against him.

Or if you want to lay between his legs on the couch?  Yeap.  He likes that too.  But those are really the only two ways he likes to cuddle.  

One of your favorite ways to spend your lazy days together is just listening to music, maybe dancing around, or singing, but mainly just laying around and just chatting or enjoying each other’s company

It’s because of this that he gave you a set of mix tapes for your six month anniversary.   And, yes.  There was one for each month you had been dating.  He’s really cheesy.  Don’t come for him.

[utterlyinevitable]

After seeing ur explanation for that anon i really want to see a fic or a hc of ethan as a dad and becca as mom can u please do it??

omg okay ahhh my babys having babies. this is gonna be long and idk if it’ll make sense bc imma jot down everything i know about domestic e&b.  

[just finished and... this is long and broken down into 6 categories........... enjoy!]

Ethan & Becca as Parents

The Pregnancy 

They didn’t plan on having children, it just kind of happened. Becca and Ethan took a day for the news to settle before they jumped into excited, expecting parents mode.

The most exciting part was renovating the condo to make the most perfect nursery and shopping for decorations and mentally planning all the traditions and things they’d love to give to their little family. 

All of the happiness couldn’t mask the struggles of pregnancy. 

Becca hated being pregnant. She was sick and nauseous constantly, and her back and feet always ached. 

Throughout the whole thing Ethan doted on her; holding her hair back and learning how to tie it up in the way she likes, rubbing her back, running out to get whatever she was craving. 

He even made copious amounts of notes about her eating patterns. Enough to keep two of everything in the condo. 

If she was having a restless night, he would too; even if she was restless for non-human-growing reasons. 

They were in this together.

And even when she was huddled over a garbage pail, dribble running down her chin, she never looked more beautiful to him. 

There was just something about all this that made him feel all weird and fuzzy inside. 

When her symptoms barely settled throughout the second trimester she overhauled her entire birthing plan. There was no way she was making it to 42 weeks. She was absolutely miserable. So she made a c-section appointment for 40 weeks. 

She had an entire argument with Ethan one evening (she really was only yelling while he nodded his head). Her main points were:  “It’s my body and the baby will be fine. I was born 6 weeks early and I turned out fantastic!” and  “Once the baby’s out of me I’m still going to have to pee. Omg what if she rips me open!? How am I supposed to use the bathroom without worrying about my stitches?”  

All he kept reiterating was:  “I love you. I trust you and your instincts.” 

Becca felt better as he held her face in his large hands, his calming azure eyes boring into hers and letting her know everything will be alight. 

But deep down she spent the next few weeks since making the appointment wondering if she should have given vaginal birth a try. She didn’t want Ethan to resent her for chickening out of her body’s natural function. 

The Birth 

Becca made it to her c-section appointment. Happily rubbing her large belly and glowing:  “I can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore! Never do this to me again.” 

All Ethan did was chuckle. 

He was happy she was getting color back and that her symptoms finally settled enough for her to spend the last few weeks enjoying their daughters kicks. But oh my god was Ethan Ramsey terrified of being a father. 

He wouldn’t tell Becca though. She was emotional and worried enough as is. Any and all his concerns were saved for the short conversations he had with his father.  “Don’t overthink it, son. The moment you lay eyes on your daughter you’ll know what to do. It’s instinct. Biology. That was your best subject in school, wasn’t it?” Alan would joke.  

The surgery went off without a hitch. 

All of Becca’s hatred for the phenomenon of pregnancy vanished the second the nurse placed their daughter on her chest. 

Rebecca was in awe. She made that! This little person came out of her! This little pink person that looks like a plucked chicken with a tiny tuft of brown hair was here and she was beautiful. The perfect combination of her and Ethan. 

The embodiment of their love.   

Dakota Dolores Ramsey was completely unplanned. Unplanned but not unwanted.  

The first time Ethan Ramsey held his daughter time froze. The universe needed a minute to process the broad grin and full heart thumping rapidly from this stoic and reserved man. 

The earth was about to spin the wrong way but then Dakota opened her eyes.

Everything was the way divinity had planned it.  

At Home

Although Ethan and Becca lived a 10 minutes drive from Edenbrook, nearly a straight run, Becca forced him to drive as slow as possible. 

Dakota was asleep and she needed to keep it that way. 

Due to her stitches, Becca was forced to take things easy. No matter how many times she argued with Ethan that she was capable of menial tasks around the house. 

Ethan would not let her lift a finger. 

If Dakota needed a change he’d happily do it. if Becca was hungry he’d make her favorite. 

“You had her to yourself for nine months. Let me take the next few days.” Becca went to retort, all she wanted was to hold her baby for the rest of eternity. She’d never tire of looking at her scrunched up potato face and watching as her features changed every moment of every day. “I promise to share.” “You better,” she kissed him as he tucked her into bed for a much needed nap.

The only thing he was forced to share with his partner was feeding duty - Becca was adamant on breast feeding. A bottle would not touch their daughters lips for months to come. 

That in itself brought its own challenges. 

Most nights Ethan laid in bed with Becca curled up at his side in one arm and Dakota resting on his bare chest. 

Parenting was weird, but an exhilarating change. 

Ethan couldn’t diagnose what he could have possibly have done right in his life to be this wholly happy. 

The Second

Once Ethan and Becca had one child they were both itching for a second.

“You know what say: ‘if you have one you have to have two’.” “Is that so?”  “You don’t want Dakota to have a sibling?”  “I was an only child and look how I turned out.”  “Emotionally stunted and certified loner?” she teased. 

Truth be told, Ethan wanted another. He’s been thinking of giving his pride and joy a few siblings for weeks now. He just didn’t know how to tell Becca. 

Becca complained frequently about how happy she was to not be pregnant, and often about how her scar healed funnily. 

All of the signs pointed to her not wanting another. And Ethan was okay with that. He never expected to have one child. He’d cherish every moment of what’s been placed right in his fingertips. 

He’ll let his soon-to-be wife choose their path. She’s dictated everything else thus far. Ethan was elated she chose him to be along for the ride. 

After Dakota’s first birthday, when they made the decision to have another, they tried desperately to conceive.

“I really don’t want to have to deal with diapers for five years,” was Becca’s main reason for keeping the kids close in age.  “We can try surrogacy.” Ethan offered, knowing how much she hated pregnancy. He didn’t want to push her into anything.    “No. I have to do it. I’ll do it for our kids. But you owe me big time.”  

And 14 months later Caroline Marie Ramsey made her grand appearance. 

And Becca got her first push present. 

The Last 

It’s fitting that four years later Ethan and Becca were blessed with another surprise. 

Her pregnancy with James Jonah was the smoothest of them all. 

Of course that meant something had to go wrong. 

At 34 weeks Becca went into premature vaginal labor. 

Within six hours their baby boy arrived. 5lbs 2oz and looking like an alien. 

Ethan almost lost them both after the fact. 

Becca lost too much blood with the placenta and JJ was so tiny.  

But the Lao’s were fighters and they pulled through. Ethan cried at her bedside once the harrowing 24 hours were up. 

Becca stayed at the hospital for a week, Ethan and Alan bringing the girls to visit every single day. 

JJ had to stay a few days longer and Becca refused to leave until she could bring her son home. 

She went through her first experience with postpartum depression. Becca didn’t think anything could be worse than the mental toll her abortion had on her years earlier. But she was wrong.

She was so wrong. 

All their friends chipped in to help take care of the kids while Ethan devoted his time to helping his wife. The couple went to therapy, sometimes together, other times Ethan sat in the waiting room as Becca worked through her emotions. 

Months later, the parents were sitting at home. Ethan held their son and their daughters were curled on their laps: He muttered into his wife’s hair, “I’d like to have one more.”  “Not with me you’re not,” she scoffed. “We’re outnumbered as is.” 

JJ began to cry and the girls stirred. Dakota mumbling, “Tell the baby to shut up, I’m sleeping here.” 

They couldn’t help but laugh and pull apart to put their whole world to bed.  

Old and graying and spending more time at home with his kids, Ethan wanted just one more baby. Four was a strong, even number. He could have a whole daycare full of them - each one the best variations of him and Becca. 

Becca had spent a large portion of her 30s childrearing and she’s done. Done with diapers and formula, especially. She loves her children more than anything but they’re exhausting. She can’t wait for them to be in school full time and she can have some more alone time with her husband. It’s been so long since it’s been just them too.  

“Don’t hate me...”  “I could never hate you,” Ethan said as he brushed a few strands of hair from his wife’s face.  She swallowed and confidently said, “I want you to get a vasectomy.” 

He agreed without further consideration. She made a very compelling argument.  

Parenting 

Ethan is the doting helicopter dad and Becca is doctor drill sergeant. The kids get away with nothing under their mother’s watch. 

Ethan is very soft and adores his children. The grumpy attending could have a whole gaggle of them. He spoils his daughters rotten, picking up the newest doll and toy they’re obsessed with, and making them promise not to tell mommy. 

The women in Ethan’s life get away with everything and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When the girls were born, Ethan stepped back at work letting the better Dr. Ramsey have her career defining moments.

He took half days to pick the girls up from preschool and would bring them to the park or museums. He’d even try to teach them to cook their favorite recipes on cold, rainy days. He’d tire them out so that he and mom could tuck them in after dinner.

Ethan’s afraid of his son. He’s afraid the tot is going to turn out exactly like him - he’s the spitting image, except that his hair curls like his mother’s. 

Instead of putting JJ in fulltime daycare, Ethan chose part time preschool. The girls were in primary school now and he’s taken a bigger step back from the hospital after the baby was born. 

He devotes all his free time to teaching his son about all he knows and learning all he doesn’t.  

Becca complains about the state of her vagina and stomach all the time. Never in front of the children but often enough Ethan knows the look on her face right before she says the same two lines.  

Her favorite activity is building forts and taking the kids to the beach. 

The holidays have never felt more alive with the full house. Ethan even became a Christmas and Valentines Day lover. 

Becca loved watching him change over the years. Every new first they celebrated with each child, every one of their kids passions, Ethan would adopt them all and make it his mission to be a connoisseur of every facet.

Dakota sat her parents down one day with a serious topic of conversation: “Mommy, Daddy. I’m going to be a fashion designer.” “Will you?”  “Yes. And I need to dress myself.” “As long as it’s weather appropriate, consider it done.”  “And we need to get supplies.” 

The conversation went on for 15 minutes with Ethan and Becca asking questions and Dakota making demands. Once they’ve settled on an agreement on how to make their daughter’s dream happen, Ethan retired to his office. He taught himself the basics of sewing.     

Even with all the struggles of raising three children in a suburb of Boston while balancing very demanding medical careers, Ethan and Becca wouldn’t have it any other way. The life they carved out of all their complications was worth it.  

All of this was inevitable. 

And they wouldn’t take a moment for granted.    

________________________________________

Um... this became bigger than intended... If you made it this far, thank you ♥

Masterlist

Perma:

@rookiemarsswiftie @lucy-268 @binny1985 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble e @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @adrex04 @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @theeccentricbibliophile @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @kaavyaethanramsey @mvalentine @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @lifeaskim @otherworldlypresents @therookie @aylaramseycarrera @angela8754 @fireycookie @stateofgracious

Ethan:

@udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @hutchereverlark23 @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @claredal424 @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @openheartthot @senseofduties @lilyvalentine @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart t @casey-v @ramseyandrys @peaceinmidstofchaos

[kamosweasley]

Not that damn song again (George Weasley x Reader)

Description : It's Christmas time so a cute fluffy fic about it sounds right. And I'm a simp for George (and Christmas songs), I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Words count : 2.5K

Author note's : lyrics from All I want for Christmas by Mariah Carey are in italics.

Tag list : @memekingofwwiii

It's terribly cliché but you can't lie, you love Christmas. There is no better time of year, with snow, hot chocolate, big sweaters, cinnamon cookies and decorations everywhere, how not to love it ? You don't understand people who prefer summer with its sweltering heat and sunburn and all those damn mosquitoes. But unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is a man of the second category whereas you are a woman of the first category. Which makes some things a bit complicated, like you grumbling when he wants to pull you out in the July sun or like him not being able to stand the Christmas carols that you play over and over again from the first of November.

“Not that damn song again …” he mumbles, hiding his face in his hands. “Darling I love you, but if you play this song one more time ...”

“Come on Georgie, it’s Christmas time ! Listening to Christmas songs is essential to my mental health right now. It's either that or stuff myself with cinnamon cookies with the delicious icing and not fit into my favorite sweaters anymore. You really don't like it ?”, coming to give him a back hug with puppy eyes. He never resists you with those eyes, he loves to see them disappear to give way to a big smile.

“I'm sorry my love, but at the end of the fiftieth listening of your playlist I started to hate Santa Claus and the sound of the bells.”

You're both sitting on his bed, he's finishing his potion homework but he's not getting very far with you in the same room listening to the same songs for over a month. He hates it because he loves you with all his heart, but he's starting to wish he could go deaf so he can't stand those melodies which haunt him even in his sleep. He would love it as much as you do, but the more the days go by, the more he understands this will never be the case. And he doesn't want to put limits on how you enjoy this time, he knows how much it means to you.

You put your hands under his sweater to warm your hands, the contact of your cold skin on his abdo makes him startle as you let out a giggle.

“Sorry, my hands are cold and I know that your mother's sweaters keep me warm so I took advantage of it …”

“I know darling, it's absolutely not to satisfy your wandering hands.” he says as he turns his head to kiss you, “I'm going to ask my mother to knit you some mittens, since it's very warm.”

“Good idea, I'm freezing to death right now.” George begins to turn around with a grin on his face, ready to warm you up in his own way but you haven’t noticed his purpose, “I'm going to go make hot chocolate in the kitchen, do you want some too ? I can bring you a cup, I make the best hot chocolate you've ever tasted. No offense to your mom who must make really good ones too, but mine is better.”

You often take him by surprise, changing the subject or not noticing how the situation is turning out and he always found it charming. You make him think of Luna a little bit, on another level but just as clueless as her sometimes. Your boyfriend smiles at you, returning to his potion homework. “Anything to please you darling.”

“You'll see, it's fabulous! I have a secret ingredient, if you're nice I might tell you what it is.” you put on one of his sweaters that you take from his suitcase before you wink at him and leave the room. He should take advantage of the silence of your absence to finish his damn homework in a hurry but he can't concentrate. Potion is boring and he really loves it when you wear one of his sweaters, it's way too big for you and that's what makes you so adorable. And you will come to spend a few days at the Burrow, meet his parents as his girlfriend and receive your own sweater knitted by Molly. He hopes that you will continue to steal from him even if you have your own.

“Here it is ! Taste it and tell me.” you say while putting the cup in his hand. You already know what he’ll say of course, everybody loves your hot chocolate, there is no reason for your boyfriend not to do the same. He thanks you before taking a sip of the hot drink, ready for a chocolate too sweet with some spice in it. And it is, but he has to admit that it is particularly good. He nods his head before he smiles at you. “You're right, it's the best I've ever tasted.” He puts his cup on the bedside table and returns to his parchment.

“So why don't you keep drinking it ? It doesn't look like the best hot chocolate you've ever tasted.” You're sure George didn't lie to you, but you still hoped he would act on his words. When he tells you it's the best hot chocolate he's ever had in his hands, you wish he wouldn't let go of the cup until he's finished it. Maybe you have a misplaced ego but this chocolate is your personal pride and you want your boyfriend to treat it well.

He runs a hand through his hair, not even taking his eyes off his homework. “I've never been a big fan of hot chocolate or Christmas cookies and certainly not of all those bell-filled songs. I’m sorry darling but I never liked any of this.” You melt before his eyes, he is sincerely sorry he doesn't like what makes you so happy and you think it's too cute.

"I'm just not a Christmas person. It's good because we saw family and have presents but still don't get what you found in this period.” You come and join him on the bed, sitting in a suit in front of him. “It’s simple. Let it snow, Jingle Bell Rock, All I Want For Christmas, it’s all about a magical time.” In his eyes you can tell that he doesn't understand at all what you're talking about, which is amazing when you consider how much time he spent listening to all those songs. “We are wizards. Our whole life is magical, I'm not sure I understand you on that point.” You grab a roll of parchment and hold it as if it were a microphone, looking at him with a glim in your eyes.

The best thing you can do to help him understand is to show him. You’re not a good singer, at least George never complains about it, perhaps because he tries very hard to keep his mind upright since he doesn’t like your playlist. It's unlikely you'll be able to change his mind, but a little a capella karaoke should put a smile on his face.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the present, underneath the Christmas tree.” While keeping your fake microphone close to your mouth, you point at your boyfriend with the same expression as Mariah Carey in the clip. “I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know ! Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you !”

As it is impossible to sing Mariah Carey without playing the diva, you give it your all and when you see George's smile, you do it well. It must be your acting more than the words of love that make him smile like that, it's like he's trying to restrain himself from laughing.

“'Cause I just want you here tonight, holding on to me so tight.” On all fours you come and sit between his legs, facing him. He puts his cold hands on your hips passing them under the elastic of your jogging, a smirk on his lips. You shiver from the sudden cold on your skin but don't stop singing, your face getting closer and closer to his. “What more can I do ? Baby, all I want for Christmas is you ! You, baby.”

He's right in front of you. Your noses are touching, your eyes are immersed in each other and you melt like snow in the sun at the intensity of this moment. Damn you love him.

The hunger in his eyes devours you before his lips reach yours. A passionate, fiery, kiss that will get you high. Your head empties itself of all words and thoughts, your hands naturally place themselves in his hair and behind your closed eyes you imagine his smile, his eyes shining with mischief, his hand holding yours and all those little things that make you fall for him. Over and over again.

Gasping for air, the kiss is stopped. You're almost dizzy, head spinning with butterflies messing around in the belly. Liking George Weasley drives you crazy, there's no telling, you've never felt that way about anyone else. Before him you'd never been that high, you'd never had a simple kiss that made you tremble, you'd never dreamed of spending the rest of your life with someone. George Weasley is the kind of man you should treasure, marry and have as a father to your children. For the simple reason that he will be wonderful in all these roles, with him everyday life will never be boring, he will always have the words to make you laugh or smile. He will give love like no one else to his children, an exemplary father who will take care of his children as if they were the greatest wonders in this world.

You have no doubt about it, your boyfriend will offer a wonderful life to the woman he chooses. That's why you're not going to let him go. Your lover.

You suddenly open your eyes as you feel yourself tilted to the side with George, he's still holding you against him and you land softly on the comforter and pillows. You're lying against each other and George slips one of his legs between yours so that they get tangled up. “Now we’re good darling.” He kisses your forehead and plays with a strand of your hair, it's so peaceful. “I haven't finished the song.” You feel his mouth smiling against your forehead. “Who cares ? Certainly not me, I heard what I needed to hear. I think I understand now.”

“Do you ?”

“Yes, but I still hate Christmas songs.”

You lean on your forearm to look down on him, looking pouty. “C’mon ! You’re overreacting, this song is brand new. It's only been out for a month, you can't already hate it.” He grabs you by the shoulders and applies pressure to force you to lie down, not softened by your pouty air. “You listen to it all the time and if not, you sing it. Believe me, one month is enough to get sick of it.”

After being a diva a few minutes before, you're having fun being a diva again because after all, you can't talk about Mariah like that. And you can't help but defend the honor of your favorite Christmas songs. With a burning gaze, fists on your hips and a somewhat condescending tone, you fight back. “It’s Mariah Carey so it will be a massive hit, I’m sure of it. And at least, I’m sure you will think of me every time you’ll hear this song for the rest of your life.” Smiling at you, he adopts the same facial expression and flutters his eyes saying to you in a sweet voice: “The only way I'm going to hear this song again is from you. It's a Muggle song, no one is going to know it among wizards.”

Rolling on yourself to be flat on your stomach, half on George given the proximity that the bed offers you, you give him a charming wink as you rest your chin on your hands.

“That’s what I’m saying. At the end of each year you will hear this song many, many, many times and you will think of that moment when I sang it to you in your dorm at Hogwarts. You will see the scene again as you hear me singing it from the other side of our house. Because we're going to spend our whole lives together.” Since you're already half on top of him, he has no problem placing you on top of him, kissing both your cheeks and your forehead as you go by, making you giggle. “You’re a genius. You really thought of everything.”

You mess his hair before wedging your head in his neck, breathing in his scent. You smile against his throat and you know him well enough to know that it makes him smile back. “How could I want to live without you ? You know how to make yourself indispensable Georgie, it's almost annoying.” You love it when he runs his hand through your hair, it's the most relaxing thing ever. His other hand traces back and forth in your back, making you a little sleepy. This man knows how to deal with you. “Because you thought you were the only one who thought of everything? I would never let you go.”

If you could stop time and stay like this forever, you would do it without hesitation. You're comfortable in a bed, just the two of you, your hearts are beating at the same rhythm and you're in love. Then it smells like hot chocolate and you've managed to make him smile to a Christmas song. You never want to forget this moment. “Fine by me Georgie.”

You can't resist the temptation to hum Last Christmas, but George's caresses make you fall asleep little by little. You stop before the end of the song and in a few minutes you fall asleep on him. He kisses the top of your head, finding you absolutely adorable. You always manage to fall asleep quickly when you are being tickled, which makes him very tender and amuses him a lot. He often teases you about it, it always annoys you and he finds it even cuter.

Feeling your body rise slightly to the rhythm of your breathing, he starts humming the end of Last Christmas. He takes advantage of you being asleep, so you won't be able to talk to him about it someday. Continuing to run his hand through your hair and humming Christmas music, he smiles as he looks up at the ceiling. You are with him, alone and calm, in perfect harmony and he always liked to feel the beat of your heart when you cuddle. It's that kind of perfect moment. And he wishes it would never end.

[twdbegins]

Catfight

__

Simon x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Fight scene, Language, Injuries.

A/N: Please, do not judge me for this fight scene. Listen, I wrote this over a year ago and tbh it’s one of my favorites because I love some soft Simon but I even went back through and edited it...it still doesn’t sound good. 

Word count: 3,050

“Did you at least throw the first swing?”

__

She made you so angry. She knew exactly how to push your buttons and drive you up the wall. Truthfully, she had never really done anything to you personally. In fact, there was a time when the two of you were extremely close. Hell, you were best friends for the longest time. Other than Simon, she was the first friend you made upon arriving at the Sanctuary. Maybe it was only because you both arrived just a day apart and were scared at first, who really knows? Regardless, you were best friends and now you weren’t.

There was no surprise to why your friendship fell apart. Since the moment she arrived, she had caught Negan’s eye, something she noticed very quickly. She knew she could use it to her advantage in the long run, so she buttered him up to the highest extent and did not hesitate in the least when he asked her to be one of his wives. She had been Negan’s wife for about six months, while you had been dating Simon for about nine.

At first, the “marriage” didn’t really phase you. You disagreed with it, because you knew neither of them actually loved each other. She was using him for a higher rank and he was using her to fill whatever dark void he had in his heart. But it didn’t affect your friendship at first, so it didn’t bother you. Until, of course, she realized the advantages and benefits she held from her position. So, over time she slowly began to become the absolute worst person to be around. She was insulting, rude, and overall just a horrible person. Her bubbly, innocent personality that you had once been so connected to suddenly felt foreign to you. 

Unfortunately, even though your friendship with dear little Kelly was at an end, you still had to deal with her quite regularly. As the Sanctuary’s in residence doctor, you were constantly passing her in the hall and being caught in the same room as her. And she never missed a chance to get under your skin. You tried to not let her get to you. You knew good and well that she had dug herself into a hole that she couldn’t get out of. She was confused and too scared to ask for help. You tried to remind yourself of that, but it was much easier said than done. 

Simon knew all of this. He knew you from the beginning to the end of your friendship with her and he was always so patient with listening to you rant about her. He advised you the best he could, but honestly the girl drama was way over his head. He mostly just tried to listen and support you through it. You figured that Kelly probably told Negan all of the same things, if he was willing to listen. But you were tough and could stand up for yourself. You wouldn’t let her get away with doing or saying something totally out of line. Which is what led up to the big incident. 

You had been packing some things for a run you were going on with Arat and a few others, to which you realized you needed a small stack of cups for the trip. The infirmary was fresh out of cups meaning you would have to borrow a stack from the bar in the room where Negan’s wives all concentrated to during the day. You took a moment to decide if it was a good idea to go in there. Kelly was almost always in there anytime you had to go in there for something, so you knew you would be making yourself a target. However, Arat insisted that cups were necessary so you decided to swallow your pride and get what you needed as fast as possible.

You walked into the lounge, not even looking to see who was in there. You rummaged through the shelves, locating the cups quickly and making a mad dash to leave. However, once you were almost to the door, you heard a dreadfully familiar voice;

“Oh, [Y/N]! Hey!” 

Your back was turned to her, your eyes shutting slowly in annoyance. You did, however, turn around slowly and give a weak greeting. To which she started getting at you right off the bat;

“So, I hear you’re going on a run tomorrow?” She questioned with a snarky tone.

You nodded slightly, not wanting to speak in fear of what you might actually say. God knows you weren’t afraid to hurt her feelings. It was at this moment you noticed there were no other wives in the room, a very rare occurrence. 

“That’s interesting...” She said with a tone leaving plenty of room for follow-up questions. 

Her mocking tone was beginning to make your blood boil, but you kept your composure for the moment;

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?” You asked.

She stood up from her place on the couch, tugging the short skirt on her black dress slightly. That was never something she would’ve worn before Negan. He really had changed her completely;

“Well, I just think it’s strange, you know? You’re doing all the dirty work around here when you could so easily give that up,” She said walking in front of you and behind the bar. 

You sighed heavily. This was not the first time she had sparked this conversation. The truth was, Negan actually threw a marriage offer your way at one point before he knew that you and Simon were an item. You promptly declined, but Negan told you the offer would always stand. You always wondered if Kelly thought you would’ve accepted and that’s why she agreed to marrying him. Regardless, she knew how you felt about Simon and that you never would accept Negan’s proposal.

“Come on, Kelly. You know I busted it before everything to become a doctor. I can’t just drop that to be one of Negan’s wives. He told me very clearly that I can’t do both,” You stated feeling the rage building inside of you, “Besides, you know how I love Simon. I would never leave him for Negan,”

She opened a bottle of red wine and slowly poured herself a glass, seemingly displeased with your answer. She nodded after taking a sip from her glass, she sighed dramatically;

“I suppose so,” She said swirling her glass, “I guess it’s just not the choice I would’ve made,” 

This was what drove you crazy. The way she tried to make you feel guilty for something that was your choice. I mean, of course it’s not the choice she would’ve made. It was never her choice to make to begin with. And then she never reacted to your comebacks. Even the ones that were specifically said to hurt. You were really biting your tongue now. You were one comment away from really saying something you shouldn’t. When you didn’t respond, she continued;

“I mean, I don’t have to do a damn thing being with Negan. I just sort of sit still and look pretty. And, of course, deliver needs at his request. Are you sure you wouldn’t be happier that way?”

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. This was a new one. Would you be happier being a woman slave to Negan? What kind of shit was that? This was when you really started to get angry;

“What the hell does that mean?” You said setting the cups down on the chair next to you, “Look if you want to be one of Negan’s whores, that’s fine. But don’t shame me because I chose happiness over power,” 

Not surprisingly, she didn’t seem phased by the most hurtful insult you could come up with. However, despite her lack of visible hurt, you could tell she was getting riled up based on the look in her eyes. At this point, both of your voices had risen, and anyone nearby would be able to hear.

“That’s another thing,” She said coming out from behind the bar and standing in front of you, “Are you really sure that Simon makes you happy? I mean, he’s not really a man compared to Negan,”

Oh. That was it. That was the final straw. You knew why she said it. She knew Simon was just as much of a man as Negan, but she wanted to hurt you. You could handle the fireball comments and questions she directed at you. But there was no way in hell you were going to let her insult him like that. You could say that you had never really intentionally hit someone before, but your arm swung before you could process. You punched her hard right in the cheek. She let out a surprised yelp, to which she threw her first swing. Her hit landed more on your jawbone, but it didn’t hurt any less. She grabbed you by the shoulders and gave you a good shove into the edge of the bar, knocking over the wine bottle which shattered all over the floor and making a horrendous noise.

It dawned on you that she was just as tough as you, and honestly, could kill you if she wanted to. But it was a fair playing field, because you were just as able. It was at this moment that you realized that she was a good two or three inches taller than you, but you were stronger. You gripped the edge of the bar and used your legs to kick her in the face. She stumbled backwards, but managed to sneak another punch to your nose before. You jumped behind the bar, grabbing and quickly smashing the now broken, jagged wine bottle. Red wine soaked you, partly her, and the floor. In hindsight, this was a bad move considering you would be the one to stitch her up later if you cut her. 

You heard two pairs of running feet approach the doorway just as she lunged at you with lightning speed. Just as you were about to put the wine bottle weapon into action, you felt yourself being restrained backwards by a pair of strong arms. A familiar male voice came from behind you as you squirmed in his hold;

“[Y/N], stop! Jesus, put it down.” He pleaded. 

That wasn’t enough. You were still beyond angry.

You then noticed Negan doing the same to Kelly, holding her back so you two wouldn’t kill each other. 

“I swear to God, I’ll kill her.” She growled at Negan, still wiggling in his arms.

You let out an evilly tempting laugh;

“God, I’d love to see you try,”

Negan cut in before she could respond again;

“Kelly, enough. Simon, we need to separate them,” He said, practically dragging her out of the room. 

He gave Simon a rather concerned look as they exited the room. You felt Simon’s hold loosen on you once they were out of sight. Your nose was bleeding and your jaw hurt from her first punch. He was looking at you in a way you had never seen before;

“What the hell just happened? Are you okay?” He said somewhat dumbfounded. 

You looked at the doorway, breathless and adrenaline filled. 

“Yeah,” You replied shortly, “I’m fine.”

--

Despite the rather dramatic fight that just ensued, you had to still finish preparing for the run the next day. You didn’t give Simon a real explanation. You really sort of brushed him off, but he knew, as always, you would tell him that night. He worried about you all day. He knew you were tough, but he had never guessed you would get in a fight with someone. He knew something really nasty must’ve been said to get you that angry. Once the two of you were separated, he and Negan talked;

“Holy shit. What about that little cat fight, huh?” Negan questioned Simon as they were alone in one of the kitchens in the Sanctuary. 

Simon shook his head in disbelief;

“I have never seen [Y/N] like that before,” He said leaning back on the countertop, “I knew they didn’t get along, but that was a new level,” 

Negan himself was a little shocked. He had seen a girl fight before, but nothing to that caliber. 

“Yeah. Kelly deserved it,” He said bluntly. 

When Simon gave him a confused look, he explained;

“Kelly is always starting shit with the others. It was only a matter of time before someone put her in her place. I always thought it would be Sherry to finally lose it, but I’m glad it was someone like [Y/N],”

Simon nodded;

“So, what are you going to do?” He asked. 

Negan gave a short laugh;

“I don’t know. But Kelly sure as hell knows now to shut her mouth,” He said walking to the door, “Hey, make sure [Y/N] knows we’re all good,” 

They talked a little longer, both agreeing to keep you two apart for a few days and let the incident slide.

You on the other hand, went straight to the infirmary, cleaning up your bloodied nose and making sure it wasn’t broken. Thankfully, it would just be bruised for a week or so. Your jaw and knuckles were incredibly bruised and tender, but nothing that required stitches. You went on the rest of your day, preparing for your run the next day, the fight replaying over and over. You hoped this wouldn’t make Simon think less of you. After all, you were defending yourself. You gave yourself as much time alone as possible before turning in for the night. It was around 1:30 AM before you trudged down the dark hall to Simon’s room. He had not seen you since the fight, your nose, knuckles, and jaw were a less than pleasant shade of purplish black. You knew he would stay awake until you got there so you didn’t even take the time to knock. 

You opened the door slowly, avoiding eye contact. He was sitting on the bed, his face going white when he saw your beaten face;

“[Y/N]...” He said softly, trailing off slowly. He stood up from the bed and approached you gently, as if you might scurry off like a scared animal; “Honey, please tell me what happened,” He requested.

You nodded slowly, walking to the dresser drawer to change before telling the story. You lifted your shirt over your head, wincing when you noticed the bruise on your back and side from where you were thrown into the counter. You slipped a t-shirt over your head and sat with your legs folded on the bed on your side. Simon was sitting across from you, listening carefully;

You told him the whole thing truthfully, feeling stressed as you retold the story;

“I don’t know. I was just...so angry,” You said shaking your head; “I just couldn’t let her get away with saying that. She knows how I would never want to be one of Negan’s wives. And then she has the nerve to invalidate our relationship?” You asked in disbelief. 

Simon’s brows were furrowed as he continued to listen;

“I swear, I didn’t go in there to start a fight. I just had enough, I guess,” You said sighing. 

Simon took a moment to process everything he had just heard. To which he had one follow-up question;

“Did you at least throw the first swing?” 

Not surprised by his response, you laughed softly moving to slip under the covers;

“I did,” You admitted. 

He smiled radiantly, carefully pressing a kiss to your lips;

“That’s my girl,” He praised, “Yeah, Negan was more surprised than I was. Did you actually call her a whore?” He asked, staring at your horrible looking nose.

You shrugged;

“Yeah. I guess that was out of line,” You said fidgeting with the edge of the sheet.

Simon laid down next to you, looking at your beaten face. You groaned;

“Honey, can you not stare at me like I just got my ass kicked?” You asked with a whine. 

He couldn’t help but laugh at your joke, but also feel bad;

“I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation,” He said, pulling him to you, “You totally won that fight,” He said with a shrug.

You gave a weak laugh;

“I guess,” You paused for a moment, “Was Negan mad? Like, am I in trouble?”

Simon gave a look of remembrance, recalling the conversation from earlier;

“Not at all,” He stated.

When you gave him a doubtful look, he continued;

“No, seriously. He’s fine. He knows she started it. Apparently she was like that with the other wives too,” 

You weren’t surprised at that revelation in the least. Just disappointed that this was how things turned out. You looked down at your hand, examining your bruised hand for the millionth time that day. Noticing your sudden silence, he took your injured hand and kissed it gingerly. 

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” He said realizing he needed to change the subject, “Are you still going on the run tomorrow?”

You nodded. He grinned.

“Good, because I’m going instead of Arat,” He said with a cheeky smile, “I figured the two of us could handle it, besides, it’s not often that we get to go out alone together,”

You weren’t sure why, but you felt tears begin to well up in your eyes. Maybe it was the frustration that had been building up in you all day or Simon’s comforting touch or even a mixture of both. Before you even realized you were crying, you saw his expression change;

“Oh, baby...” He said letting your head settle in the crook of his neck as you cried softly, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t even know,” You sobbed, “I just love you,”

He chuckled with a soft “awh” as he slightly tightened his wrap around you. He hushed you until your cries turned into hiccups and eventually into occasional sniffs. He rubbed your back gently until he felt your body relax. Your breathing slowing as you fell asleep.

He didn’t get much sleep that night. He wanted to make sure you were okay and felt safe with him. But he didn’t mind. He was always willing to make you feel better.

After all, you were his girl. Forever and always.

[donutloverxo]

Salty Baby

Chapter six

Summary - When you moved to New York in hopes of living a glamorous life this isn’t what you expected. Steve offers to help you but your pride gets in the way. Pride isn’t going to pay your rent and college loans.

Chapter themes - This chapter you meet the Avengers. Will you be able to make a good impression on them? smut, semi-public sex, angry sex, jealous steve.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 3k

Masterlist is linked in bio! Previous chapters can be found in it!

You were nervous about getting lavish gifts from Steve, for the twenty-five five gifts of Christmas he was going to give you. Things you didn’t really need, like the diamond bracelet he got you for your two month anniversary. You couldn’t exactly wear those kinds of things to class. Where your classmates talked about was dungeons and dragons or whatever a doctor who is.

But Steve’s twenty-five presents, all of them, were anything but materialistic. You were amazed at how he personalised each of them specifically for you. He knew you so well and in such a short time. Like how he got you first edition Sylvia Plath books, which you actually had the time to read now, or how he woke you up with your favorite breakfast, or how he woke you up with his mouth. You liked that much more than the breakfast. He also got you a big cosy grey sweater that swallowed you whole.

“You look so cute” He beamed at you bending down to kiss your forehead. You couldn’t help but blush at that. “I’m not cute!” You almost stomped your foot “You’ll always be cute to me doll”

You were pleasantly surprised when Anna invited you and Steve for Christmas dinner at her place. You did miss your nephews. Brock was, as always, gone for work. She didn’t want to spend Christmas alone with the kids. She also had to make a dig at you, how you’ll be in the same boat as her, what with Steve’s demanding job. Which was far from the truth, but you let it go.

The only problem was that it was the same day as the Christmas party at the Avengers tower. Steve, being the angel that he is, said you could go to the party after dinner, it would probably start late anyway.

“Doll, how does this one look?” He asked as you stared at him noticing how thick he looked under the off white cable knit sweater.

You gulped down smoothening the flare of the white lace dress Steve gifted you. “It’s perfect Steve. And stop being so nervous! I told you I don’t care about Anna’s opinion”

“Yeah but she’s the only family you have. I want to make a good impression” he said giving you a pout which you kissed away.

Thankfully you didn’t have to ask him to not take his death trap of a motorcycle. He got you both an uber. You enjoyed the whole city lit up with the beautiful festive lights. You couldn’t help but think you wouldn’t be half as happy if you didn’t have your man sitting right next to you.

“Oh my god. Ca – Captain America” Anna stammered as she looked at your boyfriend. Right, you never did mention you were dating Steve Rogers.

“Ma'am” he gave her a curt nod handing her the non-alcoholic wine bottle he had got since she was pregnant. She pushed about how considerate he was. Which was true.

Your nephews, instantly loved Steve. It didn’t take much to impress them, the lego sets and other toys and chocolates you got them probably helped as well. Both of them hanging off of his biceps as he sweeped them off the floor. While Anna tried to process that The Captain America was standing in her living room.

She dragged you to the kitchen excusing you both away from Steve. “What is wrong with you?! You never told me you were dating Captain America!” She whispered harshly.

“What difference does it make?” She only shook her head calling you a liar “Omitting information is not the same as lying. On that note I haven’t really told him about Mom” You paused gauging her reaction “I would appreciate it if you didn’t either” You winced as she smirked at you. Wouldn’t she love having such power over you?

“What do I get in return?”

“What the fuck do you want?” you snapped.

“I’ll think about it. But remember that you owe me”

You couldn’t get her words out of your head. As you kept stabbing at your meatloaf barely eating it. Steve squeezed your thigh, under the dinner table as if to reassure you. He threw his head back at the kids antics and making polite conversation with Anna.

“I’ve worked with Rumlow before” He mentioned referring to the picture frames he saw of Brock.

“Oh goodness really? He never mentioned it. But he never really talks about work. Are you good friends?” She asked eagerly.

He cleared his throat sitting up straight “Not really. But I would like to get to know him better”

Friends was always a touchy subject for Steve. Having lost so many of them, you were amazed at how he was still willing to open his heart up. He couldn’t connect to or trust anyone in this era. He didn’t need to tell you that, you could sense it. You were almost anxious, did he feel connected to you? Atleast half as much as you did to him.

Maybe that’s why you were more scared to meet his ‘family’ than he was to meet yours. You had to crane your neck up, to the point that it actually hurt so you could get a view of the Avengers tower. It was majestic and maybe a bit over the top. Not really your cup of tea, but from what you heard from Steve about Tony Stark, he loved going all out. Which was probably why there were humongous reindeers next to the A of the Avengers.

“It’s amazing!” You gushed as you both got in the elevator making your way over to the party deck. You could see why they called it a white party. The Christmas tree decorated with silver and white ornaments, which seemed to be the theme of the party. “Oh” You let out as you read that all the decorations and the tree would be bio-degradable. How is that possible?

“Cap you finally made it” You turned around to look at a blonde man, who was taller and larger than Steve which you didn’t get to see everyday, and a redhead, whom you recognised as the black widow, greeting Steve. You quickly stood next to him, holding his hand and lacing his fingers with yours.

“Oh you must be Steve’s lady” He raved squeezing you into a tight hug, which would normally be uncomfortable for you but somehow it wasn’t when he did it. It was almost comforting, like a bear hug. You awkwardly patted his back. With your face smashed in his chest you could barely breathe.

You finally pushed him away trying not to hypnotised by his eyes wrinkled by his wide gein “Yes I am the lady” you chuckled nervously smoothening the wrinkles of your dress. You looked down at the pretty white thing. You had never even worn a dress before, you weren’t sure if it was for you.

“Hope Steve is treating you well” Black Widow smiled at you before looking at Steve. “Aren’t you gonna introduce us?” she raised a brow at him.

“This is Thor” Steve frowned at the bulky blonde out of the corner of his eye “And this is Natasha” She smiled shaking your hand. Now Natasha, she looked absolutely ravishing in her grey bodysuit, that seemed to hug her in all the right places, she looked like someone who was made to fit into a place like this.

“Can I borrow Steve for a minute? We have some business to attend to” She said lacing hers arm with his.

Your breathe hitched at the thought of being left alone. “I – uh” You stammered.

“I can keep you company if you like” Thor offered and you smiled at him. Feeling his presence already comforting. You thanked him letting Steve know that you were fine.

For the next hour, Thor told you all about his home, which was in another world, something you still couldn’t wrap your head around. His delinquent brother Loki, who’s never up to any good. And his girlfriend Jane who unfortunately couldn’t join you too. His face beamed up when you told him you study physics. “I believe that is what Stark does”

“Oh I’m not sure it would be the same field. But maybe” You hummed.

“Where is he” He looked around, his silky long strands shaking with his head. “Oh Clint! Come meet Steve’s lady” He called out to someone.

“Oh you know what? I think I have to use the restroom” You stood up abruptly collecting your clutch. “I’ll catch you later” You said briskly walking away. You had caught a glimpse of a balcony on the when on the way from the elevator to the party which was your destination. As much fun as it was supposed to be to hang out with everyone, how all your classmates and your sister were ‘so jealous' of you, you were exhausted and completely burned out.

You breathed in the cold fresh air as you stood near the railing of the balcony, which was empty save for a few people. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you felt the air creep chills up your body. You close your eyes, your teeth clammering as you tried to rub your arms to create some warmth

“You don’t look so comfortable there” Your eyes snapped open as you heard someone drawl out. You looked to your left, where the voice came from, and instantly recognized the face. You’d have to live under a rock not to. It was the man who saved New York.

“I’m fine” You brushed him off. Not knowing how you could possibly speak to such a larger than life personality.

“It’s a nice party. Isn’t it?” He moved closer to you standing just a few feet away from you now “No? I’ll try to do a better job next time I guess” He shrugged his lips curling up in a smile.

“It is nice. But – I don’t know” you stopped yourself “– I’m just an introvert”

“See that's what people get wrong. Introverts don’t hate parties. I know plenty of ‘em who are the life of the party in fact”

“Name one” You scoffed.

He hummed for a minute as if thinking it over “Oh the hulk!” you cringed as he yelled enthusiastically “Banner is an anti social geek but the hulk is actually a pretty fun guy if you get to know him” he said leaning on the edge of the balcony.

“I don’t think that counts. Hulk and Banner are not the same...” you trailed off not quite sure if they were or weren’t and this time he scoffed not believing you “It’s true!” you argued “just like how Steve and Captain America aren’t the same person”

“Who capsicle?” he tilted his head.

You tried to hold it in, you really did but you burst out a laugh and quickly held your hand over your mouth to contain it. “Cap – what does that even mean?” You shook your head finally giving in and throwing your head back laughing at the ridiculous nickname.

“There you are” You stopped laughing as soon as you heard that voice. You whipped your head to look at Steve approaching the two of you, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. “I’ve been looking all over for you” He said pulling you into him by grabbing your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry I got caught up -”

“You two know each other” Tony interrupted you and Steve introduced you as his girlfriend.

“We should get going. There are some other people I want you to meet” Steve said looking down at you, somewhat sternly, his tone reminding you of his authoritative side, the one he used on the battlefield and in bed with you.

You felt your heart beat fast and your mouth dry as you nodded. Steve held onto your wrist guiding you away from the balcony

“Wait!” Tony called out for you “don’t you wanna know what it means?”

“What’re you talking about?” Steve rolled his eyes, still pulling at your wrist but you stood your ground, you did want to know. You looked at Tony expectedly.

“He spent decades in the ice frozen like a capsicle” He chuckled “and because he always has a huge stick up his ass”

Your smile faltered at that. You thought it would be something fun his friends tease him with, but this just seemed mean-spirited. “It was nice to meet you Tony” You bid him goodbye and he waved you off as you walked with Steve back to the party.

You could feel Steve fuming beside you, but you weren’t exactly sure what he was angry at. You didn’t think a stupid nickname would make him so mad. You were about to ask him but you were pushed into a coat closet? What the hell? You yelped as your backside bumped against the desk in the middle of the closet. “What - Steve!” you scolded him as you looked at the brown grease on the desk stain your white dress. “this isn’t going to come off you know” you tried rubbing at it but you were sure it was ruined.

“What were you laughing about out there with Tony? I left you alone for barely half an hour” He said. His tone contained and cool. As if what he was saying was completely rational and true. Which only served to piss you off even more.

“You left me for an entire hour! You know I’m not good at these things. Why am I here?” You said pointing your at your chest “I’m here for you! And now you’re saying what? I’m flirting with other men?”

“That’s what it seemed like” He said with the same even tone and your hand twitched wanting to smack him across his stupid beautiful face.

“Whatever Steve” you shook your head pushing him away to get away from him. You never thought you’d need distance from your Steve. “Steve let me go” you pushed him again but you knew it would be of no use. You were no match against the great Captain America.

“No” He walked close to you caging you in till you had no where to go. You felt his hot breathe fanning against your face as he stared you down. You let out a breathe, disgusted that you could feel his erection against your thigh. That you were just as turned on.

“Fuck it” you leaned up on your toes crashing your lips onto his wrapping your hands around his neck, your teeth clattering together as his hands worked to push up your skirt and pull down your panties. He pushed you up to sit you on the desk and you cringed thinking of your once beautiful dress.

He pulls away from you, his face flushed and his lips swollen from your rough kiss. He put your panties into his dress pants. “I’ll buy you another one doll” But you didn’t know if he was referring to your dress or your panties. And frankly you didn’t care. You were so angry and hurt, that all you could think about was his dick inside you, your golden boy railing you in a fucking coat closet.

Your hands made quick work of unbuckling him and pulling him out of his briefs. His cock already hard and ready. You pulled it in to line him up with your entrance but he stopped you, swatting your hands away.

“I’m too big for you doll” He leaned into your ears to whisper, two of his fingers entering your channel. “And you’reso tight. We have to get your prepared” he groaned driving his fingers in and out of you adding a third one as you held onto his shoulders for life, biting into the crook of his neck to muffle your screams.

“Don’t you dare come” He warned you as he felt you clench around his fingers. You could only whimper to answer him, holding off on your release. Knowing that if you didn’t listen to him he wouldn’t fuck you. In that moment you felt as if you’d die if you didn’t feel his cock inside you. “Please fuck me” you tried to catch your breathe as tears clouded your vision. You cried as you felt his fingers slipping out of you. You were about to say that you didn’t come. That you were good. You deserved to get off!

But then, in one single thrust he pushed his cock deep inside you, hitting your g-spot. You sighed biting his earlobe and sucking on it as a way to thank him. The weight and warmth of him cooling down the burn in your core just a little bit. But you were still very much on edge.

He rolled his hip as he started fucking into you. You grabbed onto his hair with your hand pulling on it a bit. He groaned at that driving into you faster.

With his cock hitting your cervix, again and again with such ferocious pace, you couldn’t even remember what you were angry about. Were you angry? What were you doing in a coat closet? It didn’t matter, not really. The only thing that mattered was him, his cock inside you and your impending doom. “I need to come. Please “ You wailed unable to contain your sounds.

“Go ahead doll” he pulled away a bit to look into your eyes “I’m all yours” He drove his cock into you, in the way he knew you loved. He pushed your hair out of your face, staring at you so lovingly, feeling so vulnerable and overwhelmed you closed your eyes, if you didn’t see him he couldn’t see you either right?

You clenched around him as you felt him fill you up with his warm seed. Your orgasm hitting you like a tsunami. You felt completely spent, not being able to hold yourself up you laid your head on his shoulder.

Your high didn’t last for long. You felt him slip out of you, shuffling to take out a handkerchief and clean you up. You recalled what you were fighting about. How he mistrusted you even though you had given him no reason to do so. You hugged him closer not ready to address all those issues just yet. They could wait till you had had your moment with him.

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[delos-mio]

Death of a Bachelor - EPILOGUE

“Fuck, we’re so late!” you sighed as Charles pressed the elevator button for the 15th floor of the downtown high-rise. This photoshoot and interview had been on the books pretty much as soon as you and Logan got back from your honeymoon, so really, there was no good reason to be running this far behind. But, you’d been held up at the hotel putting out small fires that didn’t stop just because you were away from the office.

“Sorry! I know, I know. I don’t know why Cole can’t figure out how to convert anything to a fucking PDF.” Charles had been promoted to office manager and had been doing a spectacular job. You always knew he would be, but when it was finally time to add on those additional responsibilities, he took them on effortlessly. He did still enjoy moonlighting as your personal assistant, even though technically you had hired someone new to do that job. Now when he helped you out, it was as a devoted friend as opposed to paid employee.

“Just…just talk to him tomorrow, please?” you asked, the elevator pinging and doors opening.

“Don’t worry- you can consider it done.”

Your heels clicked on the tile floor as you made your way to the receptionist’s desk. The Forbes HQ was sleek and screamed “wealth”, which you were used to at this point. As you got closer, the curly haired woman stood up from her seat with a bright smile and rounded the desk to greet you.

“Mrs. Delos! We’re so excited to have you here!” She took your hand and gave it a shake.

“Thank you, happy to be here,” you replied, dropping her hand. “But, I actually kept my own last name,” you corrected gently. It was an honest mistake and one that happened often. You’d perfected the polite correction over the last couple months.

“I am SO sorry,” she said with genuine embarrassment. “Truly, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s really ok, dear. It happens all the time.” You waved her off quickly and reassured her it was just fine. “Besides, there are a lot worse things to be called than a Delos, right?” The smile finally returned to her face.

“You’re right about that,” she laughed and visibly let out a breath. “Here, follow me. The rest of your group is just through here.”

You followed her down a hall with double doors at the end. Just as she was about to usher you in, you heard your favorite laugh in the whole wide world. There Logan was, laughing at something Elliot had said, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. You loved it when he let go like that and just enjoyed himself and his company. He was handsome all the time, but he was absolutely breathtaking when he was happy. Logan must have heard the door shut behind you as he opened his eyes and turned to you, a grin plastered on his face. He held out his hand to you, which you were all too happy to take.

“Hey,” you whispered just to him.

“Hi,” Logan breathed back before placing his palm on the small of your back and kissing you with a smile still on his lips. “Glad you made it.”

“I was always going to make it,” you huffed, shoving his shoulder gently. “Sorry for being late.”

“I’m a patient man,” he shrugged.

“No, you’re not,” you laughed and he broke into a grin. “You look extra handsome.”

“Thank you, princess. You look entirely fuckable yourself,” he said in a low voice just for you, his hand wandering down your backside.

“Ugh, ok, enough,” Juliet said with a roll of her eyes. “Can we get this show on the road?”

With that, the photographer came over and started arranging everyone in front of the windows with the New York skyline in the background. Elliot and Emily were directed to stand together back toward the window, Charles placed just next to them. Juliet stood near the middle with John by her side. Finally, the photographer had you stand on Logan’s left side, the two of you front and center. Without prompting, Logan wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in close, kissing your temple.

“Can you…sorry. Forbes is looking for more…professional shots…” The photographer attempted to interrupt, but Logan kept his arm around you, only glancing in his direction.

“So, I’m not allowed to kiss my wife?” Wife. You still loved hearing the word fall from his lips.

“I…” the photographer drawled, clearly uncomfortable and unsure how to answer.

“I’m fucking with you. We can behave for an hour, can’t we?” Logan asked you, arching an eyebrow.

“I can. Jury’s still out on you,” you winked. You heard Logan groan that desperate little sound he liked to make in the back of his throat and ignored him, turning to the lens as the camera clicked.

The photo shoot was light and fun. You weren’t really sure what to expect since your experience being professionally photographed was extremely limited. But, Logan was a seasoned pro and never let you out of his grip, quietly encouraging you and fawning as picture after picture was snapped.

“Alright, I think we got what we need. You all did great,” the photographer smiled and set his camera down. “I think Carmen is set up in the other room whenever you’re ready.”

“Have you guys already talked to her?” you asked Emily.

“Yeah, she grabbed all of us before you and Chuck came. I think she’s doing his interview last.”

“Sounds good. How was it? Is she nice?” you asked, nervously thumbing the band on your ring finger, a new habit you’d picked up.

“She was pretty cool, actually,” Elliot shrugged.

“Mostly asked about you two,” John smirked. “Y’know, making sure you’re treating us good and all that.”

“Whatever,” Logan laughed. “You ready, babe?” You nodded and he draped his arm over your shoulder, ushering you into the small side room where a Forbes journalist sat.

“Mr. and Mrs. Delos! Very nice to meet you! I’m Carmen.” She introduced herself and shook your and your husband’s hands.

“Thank you for having us. However, my wife has kept her last name,” Logan said with a charming smile.

“Of course, of course. My apologies. A modern woman- I love it!” Carmen chirped before gesturing you both to take a seat. Logan waited for you to settle in, smooth down the top of your pencil skirt, before taking his seat next to you and placing his arm around you along the back of the couch.

“So, some congratulations are in order! First, congrats on Delos being named one of the Most Innovative Companies. That’s quite an accomplishment for your first year of ownership.”

“Thank you,” Logan said with a small nod.

“Second, congrats on your recent nuptials! Tech’s most eligible bachelor is officially off the market,” Carmen laughed. “Tell me a little bit about your wedding before we get into the meat and potatoes.”

“Well,” you started, “We started planning a kind of big wedding, something that we thought weddings usually looked like. But a couple months into making arrangements, we decided that it wasn’t for us and everything we’d been planning just wasn’t what we wanted. So, we rounded up everyone who was in that photoshoot with us and eloped in Fiji.”

“Wow, that’s quite a 180. And Fiji, that must have been beautiful!” Carmen beamed, clearly caught up in the whimsy of just fucking off impulsively to another country and getting married.

“They’re our family and at the end of the day, everyone else we planned on inviting was just decoration. It was nice just to have the people who mattered there with us,” Logan said, looking at you with a soft smile. “I only cared that my wife walked down to meet me at the end of that isle. Whatever else she did or didn’t want on that day was good with me.”

“That’s so sweet,” Carmen cooed. “Well, I’m very happy for you and marriage looks good on you both.” She took a moment to turn on the recording function on her phone and organize her notes. “So, once you got home, walk me through what happened at Delos. There has obviously been a lot of speculation between the change in ownership, the pivot to Virtual Reality, and the acquisition of other businesses.”

“As you know, John and I bought Delos last year from my father. In that last year, we more or less gutted the whole thing and started new. We kept on Juliet, obviously, and my secretary and that was it. Everyone else was let go. We made sure to bring in talent that was new and fresh and rallied around building Delos back up. My father liked people who said yes to him, and that led to a lot of stagnation both in new ideas and growth for the business. John and I didn’t want that. We wanted to make Delos our own.” Logan had that proud, serious look in his eyes that made you clamp your thighs together just a little bit tighter. “Our vision of the future of Delos required a clean house and staff who were excited and innovative.”

“That’s a bold move. What empowered you to take such a big leap?” Carmen asked.

“Is it corny if I say the woman sitting next to me?” Logan chuckled.

“Oh Christ, stop,” you laughed.

“I mean it though!” Logan looked over at you fondly, his gaze soft before turning back to Carmen. “She has pushed me since the first day we met. And she’s supported me unconditionally all this time. I don’t think I’d have the courage to do half of what we’ve accomplished if I didn’t know I had her behind me.”

“The thing about Logan is that he’s incredibly driven. If he wants to accomplish something, he puts his mind to it and he does it. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” You squeezed above his knee, feeling an incredible swell of pride in your chest. He really had some so far and worked so, so hard in the years you’d been together. It was hard not to feel proud and keep the tears from your eyes. Logan must have sensed what was going through your head because he leaned over to press a quick kiss to your temple, just something light to ground you, remind you he had your back too.

“Once John and I had cleared everyone out, that left us with four employees. Which wasn’t going to work, clearly. But lucky for me, my beautiful wife is also an entrepreneur,” Logan smiled.

“Yes. I’d owned my own marketing firm and really, it just made sense at that point kind of merge the two companies.” You nodded.

“We brought marketing in house and took on her staff and bought her business in exchange for ownership shares. Now, Delos is a three owner operation,” Logan grinned. It was important to both of you that you not work for Logan, but rather with him. “Her old assistant became our office manager and is now in charge of day-to-day operations. My sister and brother in law, Emily and Elliot, moved out to LA from Milwaukee and headed up talent management and recruiting. They helped us fill in the other vacancies left.”

“So, it really is a family affair, huh?” Carmen asked, looking between the two of you.

“I think we’ve both learned how important it is to keep a tight circle of people you can trust. These are people we’ve known our entire lives, that are the very best at what they do, and are unwaveringly loyal.” You looked at Logan, who nodded in agreement. “Saying ‘yes’ to everything and being loyal aren’t the same thing. And I think that’s something that previous ownership never understood.”

“Damn right,” Logan affirmed with a crooked smile, his eyes still trained on you.

“I think ‘power couple’ doesn’t even come close to describing you two! It’s been amazing as someone who watches the market and businesses to see Delos rise from the ashes into this juggernaut that it is today.” Carmen seemed genuinely impressed and a bit enamored by you and Logan.

“It was a lot of long nights and hard work. But we like to think it’s been worth it, right?” You asked Logan.

“It’s all been worth it. Everything.”

---

About a month later, you were curled up on the couch, totally zoning out as an episode of Real Housewives of Potomac played. Sleep was weighing heavy on your eyelids when the front door opened and shut again. Finally, Logan was home which meant you now had your favorite pillow to fall asleep on. You listened to him set down his keys, hang up his jacket in the closet, and grab himself a San Pellegrino before wandering into the living room.

“Happy you’re home,” you said with a sleepy smile, reaching out your arms to beckon him over.  

“Happy to be home,” Logan laughed and took his normal spot in the corner, legs sprawled out on the chaise, and quickly scooped you into his arms. You settled in his lap and gave him a kiss hello, an I missed you kiss, an I’m so happy to see you kiss. “Got a surprise for you,” he murmured against your lips.

“Yeah?” you asked, running your fingers through his dark hair. From over the side of the couch, he pulled out a copy of the newest Forbes magazine with a proud flourish. “Oh lord.”

“Page 71,” he directed, handing it over to you. And sure enough, there you two were, front and center, with every important member of your team, and family, behind you. There was something uncomfortable about seeing your own face on a glossy page, but the picture really was nice of the whole group. Logan radiated confidence and power, his arm securely around you in a way that said I wish you would try to fuck with us.

“It sure is…published,” you laughed.

“You look so fucking beautiful. I can’t wait to get this blown up and hang it in the lobby,” he mused, looking over your shoulder at the write up.

“For real?”

“I think it’s a great picture! It should be the first thing anyone sees when they come in the office, don’t you think?” Logan placed a tender kiss on your shoulder.

“I suppose.” You still weren’t entirely convinced, but it was also impossible for you to say no to Logan. You handed the open magazine back to him and let your head rest against his shoulder. “Read it to me?”

“Of course, princess,” he chuckled and raised the article into his line of sight, starting in on the story you knew and lived. Your eyes slipped shut as you let the sound of Logan’s voice and his heartbeat comfort you and lull you into a peaceful sleep.

TAGGED: @marvelcapsicle​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @something-tofightfor​ @songtoyou​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @abroadcastofthemind​ @gollyderek​ @dylanobrusso​ @marauderskeeper​

[formerprincewille]

I was tagged by @pamouche and @borborai in this and I finally gotten around to doing it. Thanks so much!

Fav wtfock s3 things: honestly I could go on for hours about my love for this season it’s One of my favorite things to exist in the entire world. I have re-watched it so many times and it always leaves me feeling so happy. Some specifics: Robbe IJzermans, sweet sunshine, love and light of my life, I would throw myself in front of traffic for that boy I love him so much. He captured my heart in a way few ever have. This boy. He’s just such a caring and compassionate person. He’s got his little shit attitude, and he’s definitely a tiny brat, but he is also so full of love to give. I love that he’s not flashy. He’s not somebody that a lot of people are going to notice in a crowd. He’s overlooked by everyone, including his friends. But when you get to know him you see how remarkable he is, because few people are that genuinely good. And the way he grew from hurt and lonely and angry and afraid to happy and confident and not only accepting but proud of who he is makes me cry happy tears. He’s just the best. But the other best is the yin to his yang, his beautiful, wonderful, cool, bold, funny, sweet, and completely dorky art hoe of a soul mate, Sander Driesen. When I think of what my ideal Even would be, he is it. His heart is just right there for everyone to see and he doesn’t hide it. In fact he’s extra about showing it. He’s also vulnerable and needy and feels so very young to be going through such large struggles. He makes me laugh and cry and I would dive in front of the Skam France car for him as well. Love that kid so much. Sobbe. Do I really need to say it? Holy shit they are everything. Soulmates, best friends, loves of each other’s lives. Their chemistry is so good that it doesn’t even exist in this stratosphere. It’s otherworldly. The love that they feel for each other is tangible. They’re one of those couples that when I look at them I think “now those two are going to make it”. You can just feel it. They also somehow manage to hit on so many beloved fanfic tropes but remain realistic because it’s actually canon. Like when couples in fanfic will call each other pet names but it’s rare you actually see it in canon. But sobbe is like hold my beer and goes all out with it. The way they express their love to each other is exactly what the other one needs. Sander is loud end boisterous and goes all out to make it clear to Robbe and everyone else on earth how he feels about this boy. He gives him things to make him feel special and he’s full of affection for him. Robbe is also extremely affectionate, he tells Sander what he needs to hear to feel safe and loved and they love spending time together. Their love is a balm for one another that soothes them both. And it’s clear that neither of them need the other more nor ever did. They both needed one another and met at a time in our lives that they were both in pretty low places and were exactly what the other needed. And they always will be. Sorry, getting emotional again. They’re the otp to end all otps. 🥺 The Soundtrack. I love every single song on the soundtrack. All of them, and I listened to the soundtrack so much on my Spotify that my entire top songs of 2020 were made up of wtfock s3 songs. They not only have excellent musical choices, but they are all placed within scenes so well that they perfectly complement what is happening in the narrative at any given point. Casa Milan and Zoenne and Robbe aka Flatshare Fam. I want to live there. It is so warm, it is so inviting, and it is filled with such love. The support that Robbe got from Milan, Zoë, and Senne was unmatched. I don’t know where he would’ve been without it. Could you imagine if he had had to live with his dad? How differently his story could’ve ended up? Especially with Milan, having someone not much older than he is who has gone through a lot of the same things he has. He was such a big brother figure and mentor and I’m so glad Robbe had that.

Fav clip: Scuse me I’m not picking just one so Dinsdag 16:31, Zaterdag 09:41, Woensdag 21:21, Mandaag 11:03, Zaterdag 08:44 and Woensdag 16:36

Fav scene: Their Vrijdag 21:21 reunion, morning after, ohn/mbm, singing to a shoe, the hotel scenes, and the grocery store. I’m not really sure of the distinction between a scene and a clip 😂

Fav shot: Oh god don’t make me choose. Their hands in Dinsdag 16:31 is a big one. The dual mirror shots of Robbe after Milan tells him about gay pride before the attack to him bruised and battered after. When Robbe is kneeling down beside Sander in Mandaag 11:03. The shot of Milan, Robbe, and Sander playing the pandemic game all cozy by the Christmas tree. Any shots of Robbe and Sander making heart eyes and/or kissing. Any close ups of Robbe’s face and eyes bc Herbots, man. Good god he’s amazing.

Fav kiss that Robbe initiates: Woensdag 21:21, Dinsdag 07:27 and Woensdag 17:21

Fav kiss that Sander initiates: Zaterdag 09:41, Dinsdag 16:31, and Vrijdag 21:21

Fav Sander dialogue: Can I say everything? Okay okay, I’ll give some examples. “Wow, that’s expensive!” “You and me, a hundred percent forever, in every universe.” “I’m holding onto you and I’m never letting go of you.” “🎵Ground control to major Tom. Circuit dead there’s something wrong.🎵” “Are you going to leave me behind?” (🥺) “Zero stars on booking.com.” “The moonlight was shining down on you and I knew immediately ‘he is the one’.” “Get ready to be mindblown!” “All the way or no way.” “Take it or leave it, eh?” “You could try bribing the teacher.” “Robin.” Also literally everything he said during wtfockdown because there’s not a moment where he isn’t iconic. But a really special moment, “Just because other people are close minded doesn’t mean that you should make your world smaller.”

Fav Robbe dialogue: “You touched me and I’ve never felt something like that.” “That kiss was really *head explosion noises*.” “Not in this universe.” “Sander, there is something between us. I love you.” “Jawel.” (I just love the way he says it, it’s so fuckin cute). “Fuck Chernobyl.” “Always.” And of course, his verse in eenvoud.

Fav hug: Mandaag 11:03 when Robbe holds a crying Sander. Also, does the spooning and cuddling in the hotel scenes and Dinsdag 07:27 count? Because I love that. Also Woensdag 17:21. Or really anytime Robbe is being a clingy koala. And we can’t forget his hug with Milan after he tells him about the attack. He really needed that comfort.

Fav 21:21: Nope. Nah in all seriousness they just hit different. Woensdag is my favorite in terms of clip alone because from beginning to end it is just so beautiful and perfect. The music, the tunnel, the pool, the kiss, just absolutely gorgeous. But at that time everything was still really new between them and the aftermath of that was rough. Vrijdag is my favorite clip in terms of what it means for Robbe and Sander. The clip itself is shorter, but it has much larger impact in terms of sobbe’s relationship. It’s not just their first time physically, but their emotional declaration to one another as well. It comes with a commitment. Also them falling off the bed laughing is the greatest thing ever. They are so HAPPY. So basically my answer is both, just in different ways.

Fav Sobbe instagram pic: Why are all these questions so mean? Okay- their first one together obviously because along with Robbe’s caption it’s just a showing of their love being official. But also the grocery cart pics for their 6 month anniversary. The grocery store pic in Ardennes getaway. Robbe’s bday pics of them embracing they’re SO HAPPY omg. And of course, we cannot forget the pic posted for Sander’s birthday. It is absolutely perfect. I love it so much.

Fav song/scene pair: I have a few- both examples of wildfire obviously, past lives in Zaterdag 09:41, and rebel rebel at the grocery store. But I have two more that are not at all happy clips but are two of my fave clips regardless: life on mars/zaterdag 21:43 (that scene is impeccable along with its followup which I consider them a pair but LoM only plays in the first one) and I found/zondag 15:12 (my god I love that scene it’s brilliant).

Fav message between Sander and Robbe: Woensdag 12:45 when Sander sends Robbe the sketch of them and talks about that kiss earlier being Chernobyl. Also everything during wtfockdown but especially “I love you so much Robin.” “I love you too. So damn much.” But honestly they had so much adorable banter during those clips we were truly fed.

Fav banter on Instagram: lmaooo they’re always so thirsty on main you could pick a million examples. I will say I loved their back and forth about emojis on their anniversary.

I will tag @onzeziggy @everyone-has-their-story @bowieexaminprogress @sanderxrobbee @ayellowcurtain and whoever else wants to do it. This was fun!

[brywrites]

Little Beautiful

Summary: In which Max’s art exhibit is a gallery of beautiful things, and Spencer Reid finds himself surprised by what it includes. Spencer Reid x Max Brenner

.......

Spencer Reid can name many beautiful things. He can talk in depth about the natural splendor of the Golden Ratio and why humans love symmetry. He can explain the history of the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, recount the painstaking detail with which the Taj Mahal was built. He’s seen desert sunsets and shooting stars and the faces of parents reunited with children they thought they might never see again.

He loves all the great and beautiful things in the world. And nobody quite makes the world look as beautiful as Max does. She’s protective of her art, fiercely private about it, but the glimpses she allows him stun him. Then again, he figures he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, she’s beautiful.

Reid thinks he could never tire of looking at her. Her wide, brown eyes, her long eyelashes, the way her cheeks are painted pink each time he pushes her hair back from her face. Her smile just knocks him out. Her movements are graceful, elegant. And the sight of her bare body in the soft light of his bedroom makes him think that no word in any language could ever even hope to come close to describing this sort of perfection.

Everything about her puts a sunset to shame. Her laugh. The way she makes him smile on the worst days. The softness of her touch when her skin is on his. The warmth of her embrace. The kindness of her heart. There’s no doubt, Maxine Brenner is beautiful, in every sense of the grossly inadequate word.

But beauty has a way of reminding him of his own inadequacies. For all his love of lovely things, Reid knows the word is never one he could hope to claim. His face won’t ever inspire poetry. His hair is, at best, an unruly mess. His stubble is always a little scruffier than he’d like it to be. And while he managed to get physically stronger after Milburn, getting in shape didn’t quite happen. He can hold an unsub on the ground without worry, but he’s absolutely terrified each time he undresses before her.

But he loves her. Which is why when she hands him a flyer that reads, Little Beautiful, he knows he’ll say yes to whatever it is before she even explains.

“I have a confession to make,” Max says. “I didn’t want to tell you sooner because I was afraid I might jinx it, but now that it’s all official – I’m going to have an exhibition at Jolie Laide!” Jolie Laide is one of the District’s most revered contemporary commercial galleries, and Max is understandably over the moon.

“What?” he gasps. “When did this happen? How?”

“There was a call for submissions, and well I’ve been working on this idea for a while and I figured why not give it a shot? Spencer, they loved it! They actually loved my art!” she says, and the little hop of joy in her step makes him want to kiss her right there in the middle of the street. Is she even aware of how adorable she is?

“That’s incredible. I mean, I’m not surprised. Everything you do is incredible. But what’s the title mean?” he asks, pointing at the flyer.

“It’s a Van Gogh reference,” she says, and he smiles. Of course it is. The Dutch master will always have a spot in her heart, and in the small “Starry Night” tattoo on her inner arm. “Find things beautiful as much as you can,” she recites. “Most people find too little beautiful.”

She takes his hand in hers. Her hands are small and dainty. He could almost close his fingers around hers completely. It makes him think he must look so strange beside her, a mess of lanky limbs.

“I know that big parties aren’t really your scene,” Max says. “But the opening night is kind of a big deal and it would really mean a lot to me if you came.”

“Are you kidding me?” he laughs. They turn down the street to his apartment. “You’re my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for five months, three weeks, and five days. Of course I’m going to be there.”

“Well good. And tell your friends! The more the merrier. I think you’re really gonna like it,” she adds, with that mischievous sparkle in her eyes that makes his stomach flip.

“If you made it, I know I’ll love it.” Deciding the doorstep of his building is close enough, he leans down to kiss her.

Two weeks later, he finds himself standing in the lobby of Jolie Laide with the rest of his team. Many of them have decided to make a date night of the event, as it’s not often profilers have the excuse to attend a formal event. Reid shifts nervously from foot to foot as they wait for the doors to open. Somehow he still feels out of place in nice suit, wearing the “Starry Night” tie she bought him at a work trip she took to the MoMA. Everyone here looks so beautiful, and he feels like he’s playing dress up, like they’ll all be able to tell he doesn’t belong in a place like this. He’s all too aware of the way he hasn’t managed to tame his hair, of the way his shirt fits a little tighter than it used to, of the way the people around him exude an air effortless cool that he could never hope to.

To ease his mind, he takes comfort in counting the people waiting. They’re all here for Max, for the beautiful things she makes. The last time he was at a gallery opening like this he was standing in a sweater vest next to Gideon who was flirting with the artist while Reid tried not to stare too much at Lila Archer. The memory makes him want to laugh – how infatuated he felt at that time with her. And now with Max, he can’t imagine thinking such a feeling was love. It’s so different than the consuming warmth he feels when he’s with her, the way hearing her voice can bring him back down to earth when his mind moves too quickly, the way he he’s always hated touch but never seems to mind when it’s her. Rather he craves the feeling of her hand in his, her arms around him, her lips on his skin. He’s in love with her, and he’s in deep.

The clock strikes seven and the doors are opened. They step into the bright white gallery space. The moment he’s inside, he is in awe. He recognizes Max’s work immediately, and it’s everywhere. There are large canvas paintings of small objects that take up so much space. There are paintings that must be zoomed in, hyper-focused views of much bigger objects. And it’s all beautiful. Max’s work has the same mastery over colors as the Impressionists, but with contemporary details and precision. Her paintings don’t just look like something, they feel like something. There is a series of pieces of stunningly detailed school supplies – a crayon, a yellow pencil, a bottle of glue. They seem to reflect light, possessing colors far too rich for items so simple.

Max has made them lovely with her gaze, with her hands.

In one painting, a vibrant sunset is seen through a small window. In another, the trunk of a tree is made to look so close that the leaves the viewer stares up at are but a golden blur. Fruit, a butterfly’s wing, and a flower are made into a kaleidoscope of colors. He catches glimpses of familiar faces in portraits – her sister Michelle’s eye, her father’s hand, identifiable by his watch, holding a baseball with vibrant red stitching.

“Wow,” Simmons says, standing beside him. “This is amazing. I mean, I don’t always get art, you know? But damn. Max is talented.”

“She sure is,” Reid says. But he’s only half listening, because he’s taken in by it, by all of it. This is the world through Max’s eyes. All these little details, all the little beautiful things that she sees. And she has reflected them back to the world in a way that takes his breath away.

The unfamiliar voice of an man calls the gallery to attention through a microphone, and Reid makes his way back towards the entrance where all the guests are slowly gathering.

“I now have the pleasure of introducing tonight’s guest of honor, Maxine Brenner,” a man with tiny wire-rimmed classes says.

Reid joins the crowd, falling into place beside Garcia and JJ just in time to see Max walk over in a white lace dress. She is utterly radiant, resplendent. His heart quickens at the sight of her. She takes the microphone and thanks the man with a dazzling smile. “Thank you all for being here,” she says. “It’s truly an honor to share this night with you, and I’m thankful to Jolie Laide for the opportunity to do so. It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that Van Gogh is my favorite artist. He once said, find things beautiful as much as you can. Most people find too little beautiful. The concept for this exhibit was to find all the beautiful things that we overlook. I wanted to pay attention to their little details and find new ways to show the world what beautiful is and what it could be. Every painting is of something I’ve found lovely – whether it’s a natural phenomenon seen through a new lens or an everyday object that just needs someone to notice it or a person–”

She pauses and her gaze moves over the crowd until she spots him. And that mischievous glimmer returns to her eyes. “– who doesn’t realize how beautiful they are. I hope that tonight helps you all to see the beauty around you and in yourselves, and maybe encourages you to see things a little differently, and to find the world a little more beautiful.” As she bows, the room bursts into applause and he swells with pride. This is her moment, and she’s beaming, and he couldn’t be more happy for her.

He wants to go up and hug her, but a swarm of admirers immediately descends upon her with enthusiastic questions and curious remarks. This is her night. He knows that when she wants to talk to him, she’ll let him know. For now, he’ll let these strangers have their moment with her – he can have all of the time in the world with her. The team opts to take a break to help themselves to the refreshment table and Emily offers to grab him a drink, but he politely refuses. He wants to keep walking around.

He can’t help but smile as he does so, hearing the praise and wonder in the words of the other guests. Yes, he wants to tell them. Yes, she’s that talented. Yes, she notices things nobody else does. And she’s hilarious and generous and gorgeous and somehow, somehow I am hers. But how unsightly it would be of him, in his suit and crooked tie, with his messy hair and off-balance gait to interrupt these strangers reveling at the beauty before them. So he stays quiet, happy just to be here. Happy to have the privilege to even witness such beauty.

When he turns the corner, he’s grateful he declined that drink because if there were a glass in his hand, he surely would have dropped it. Many of Max’s pieces are gathered on walls or in corners in groups based on themes or subjects. And in this particular nook, he finds himself uncomfortably familiar with the face staring back at him from one of them. The same face he has stared down in the mirror a thousand times.

It strikes him – Max has painted him. Reid steps closer and realizes it’s not just one painting. The whole wall is him. There is a painting of just one honey-colored eye, gazing down. A hand on the spine of a book. His lips, slightly parted, just a little uneven. His shoulders and collarbone, the slope of his neck and the curve of his chin, a few wild curls visible in the narrow view of the painting. And two portraits where his face is fully visible.

The brushstrokes are so careful, the colors so soft. She paints him in curves and edges and tiny hints of unexpected hues. She paints him with such detail, as though she has tried to memorize every inch of him. She has painted him beautiful.

And for a thirty-six seconds he can’t breathe. He just stares. Because this is how she sees him. And she’s put it on display for all the world to see.

“There’s a level of precision in these that I didn’t see in the other portraits,” an older woman says to a young woman beside her. “I can’t explain it, but it somehow feels like they were more… lovingly painted.”

“Like she knew exactly how they should feel,” her companion agrees.

“The subject has such a striking jawline,” a man says to the woman holding his hand. “And I like the way she painted his hair. Every curl is so careful.”

“It’s really beautiful,” she says, pointing to one of the portraits. Max has painted him smiling, gazing upwards, and he isn’t even sure if he’s capable of looking that way. “I think this one might be my favorite overall.” When they step aside, he can read the small placard on the wall naming the paintings. It reads, “And if I asked you to name all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself?” Series. Oil on canvas. 2020.

Reid swallows hard, past the lump of emotions lodged in his throat, and turns quickly to walk to another corner of the gallery, both to avoid recognition and because if he keeps looking he thinks he might cry. But when he turns, she’s standing right there. Looking up at him through her long lashes, her graceful hands clasped in front of her as she waits in that lovely lace dress.

“Do you like it?” she asks him, nodding at the corner.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why did you paint me?”

Max smiles. “I told you, Magic Man, I wanted to paint pretty things.”

He shakes his head. “But I’m not – I mean, look at me, I’m–”

“I am looking.” She reaches up to brush her fingers against his cheek, having to stand on her toes even in heels to do so. “And you are beautiful. My beautiful. I wanted to show you the way I see you. Because of all the beautiful things, none of them make me feel quite like you do.”

Max takes his hand and walks up to the paintings. She says nothing, just waits as he looks at them close up, unafraid of someone realizing he’s looking at himself. He stares at the light and shadows created by her paintbrush. The bright colors that draw attention over painted skin. The soft gaze, the eyes that seem to look so alive. Stray freckles, flecks of tan and gold. It feels so astonishingly intimate. There’s no denying that her work is remarkable. It is beautiful.

And this is how she sees him. Worthy of that sort of attention. Capable of bringing those kinds of colors to life. And when he faces her, he realizes – the painting with the smile. He does look that way. He can feel the movement of the muscles in his face forming a near mirror image as he realizes he only ever looks that way at her.

“Thank you,” he says. Max pulls him down to kiss him, her lips so sweet, and it feels beautiful. He thinks that if they were not here, surrounded by other people, that he would love nothing more than to avail her of that beautiful dress and paint patterns of her skin with his fingertips, give every inch of her the same level of attention with his lips that she did with her paints, and whisper over and over to her just how lovely he finds her.

But they’re not alone, not yet. “Well I’ll be damned,” Morgan says. All of his friends are there, having discovered this nook of the gallery. “Look at that! She somehow managed to make you look even prettier than usual, Pretty Boy.” Reid flushes crimson as they praise Max’s work. She joins them to walk around the rest of the gallery, her hand in his, and from time to time he swears he can see someone staring at the two of them, and he knows they recognize his face. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how the rest of the world looks at him, so long as he knows the way he looks through her eyes. For the first time, he can see himself the way she sees him. As he is, not as he fears he is.

Somehow, this has become his life. Walking through a gallery of paintings made by his favorite person, while she gazes at him like he’s her only muse, telling him that he belongs among lovely things. Somehow believing it all. Somehow at home surrounded by strangers and a few of the people he trusts most. This is his life. And what a beautiful life it is.

[the-evil-authoress]

GX Month Day 6: “Heartfelt Appeal”

You find two characters that click so well, look them up...and there’s no content! ‘Why?? Someone please make content!’ The pleas go unheard. You’ll just have to make it yourself. Show some love for your rare pairs today!

MORE FANTASYSHIPPING! 8D

Year 2’s Duel Monster Spirit Day! Friendly reminder that ‘Mana’ is the name Dark Magician Girl gave when she introduced herself to Syrus last year.

Colorful banners and streamers hang from the entrance hall once more, market tents set up in the main yard with flashy signs and flags announcing their wares or food or other activities. Syrus stares at it all with the same wonder as last year, and peers through the throng of students hopefully. His other friends have already gone off to find the activities they like best, be it duels or carnival games or the kissing booth, so Syrus is free to wander at his leisure and search.

It’s stupid, it’s silly, and Syrus still wonders if last year was a fever dream regardless of the way Christina keeps teasing him and the ghost of arms he sometimes feels around his shoulders. But still, he hopes and maybe this year he can confirm it for sure.

“Syrus!” a voice calls out that tickles his memory and Syrus swings to face-

“Mana!” Heat floods his cheeks. Dear Ra, did she get prettier or is he just hopelessly, stupidly crushing? “You...you just disappeared last time,” he squeaks out the first thing that comes to mind that isn’t a jumbled mess of pretty hug magic like, and wants to kick himself when Mana’s expression falls.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says, looking so sad it physically hurts. “I didn’t want it to end that way. I lost track of the time and I wasted too much of it showing off.” Her voice turns a bit bitter before she shrugs it off and smiles again. “But not this time. This time you have my full attention.”

“No, no!” Syrus frantically waves his hands in front of him. “I didn’t mean- I what?”

Mana giggles and leans down. “Just for today, you have me all to yourself!” Winking, she taps his nose and Syrus wheezes as his heart makes a valiant attempt at pounding straight out of his chest. Leaning back, Mana clasps her hands behind her back. “So what do you want to do?”

“Ah, well, um, we, we could, we could check out the carnival games,” Syrus finally stammers out a full sentence. Gods he hasn’t been this bad about it since the beginning of the year!

Mana only giggles again as she takes his hand and heads off toward the game booths. “Don’t go hiding in a trashcan on me now.”

Syrus’ brain freezes for a full second. “YOU SAW THAT?”

“I see everything Chinatsu sees! Well, almost.”

Who the hell is Chinatsu?!

*

It takes a solid 30 minutes and two botched carnival games to finally work himself out of that last anxiety attack, but finally his heartrate feels normal and he doesn’t want to die of mortification. If he dies he won’t get to see Mana smile or hear her squeal over the stuffed Happy Lover she won from the last game. Her throwing arm is ridiculously good. She’s also amazingly child-like for...however old she’s supposed to be.

“Ooo! I wanna try that! I wanna try that!” she squeals, pointing animatedly at the food stall with an assortment of pastries. “The bean fishies! Chinatsu loves these! I always wanted to try one!”

Syrus orders them a taiyaki each and ends up going back for seconds when Manna practically melts where she stands. “It’s so rich and sweet~!”

The next half hour ends up devoted purely to letting Mana sample all the food at the festival and discover her favorites. They compare tastes and Syrus offers recommendations. Mana ends up leaning more towards milder flavors of the sweet and savory variety; too much flavor and she’ll gag on it even if she likes the taste. Syrus prefers saltier foods with just a tiny extra kick. Mana’s reaction to hot spices had been concerning but strangely fun.

“Hey, um, if it’s not rude to ask...” Syrus starts as they sit on a bench nibbling on dango. Mana tilts her head to show she’s listening and Syrus ploughs ahead before he can talk himself out of it. “Are you really the Dark Magician Girl?”

Manna chews slowly before swallowing. “What do you think, silly?”

He thinks she is, and he’d call it crazy if not for, well, everything else crazy about the last two years of his life. After literally sentient murder crazy light, he might be ready to believe anything. But then- “Why me?”

“Because you wanted to get to know me,” Manna says without missing a beat. “You didn’t just see a pretty face or a powerful mage; you wanted to know the real me beneath all of that.”

“Oh...” Syrus remembers that conversation. Christina asked him why he had a card crush on the Dark Magician Girl. Did she ask because...

“And because I want to get to know you too,” Mana continues and Syrus sputters as his poor heart makes itself known again. “I’ve gotten to watch you a lot but that’s not the same as interacting. I want you to show me who you are. And I want to show you who I am.”

“Me? But I’m...I’m not...” His eyes fall to the ground as he thinks of that embarrassing episode of hiding in a trash can, of his brother who he couldn’t even stand up to in the end, of the Society of Light that he did absolutely nothing to help stop and even got himself kidnapped by a digital woman and her duel monster lackeys.

“Syrus.” A hand on his cheek brings him back to face Mana’s deep green eyes. “You can do anything and be anyone you want to be. I mean, just look at you already.” She plucks at the yellow blazer and Syrus’ chest fills with pride at the reminder. That’s right. He did do that. All on his own. “You look so good in yellow!” Mana cheers and Syrus’ ducks his face away again. He doesn’t know how to handle all these compliments! “Believe in yourself, and when that’s hard to do, believe me when I say I believe you can do anything.”

Those words might mean more to him than any other praise or pep talk he’s gotten before, simply because they sound so genuine. He’ll hold those words close to his heart for the rest of his life, because someone as strong and powerful as the freaking Dark Magician Girl believes in him. Swallowing, he nods and clears his throat to find his voice. “So, um, what do you wanna know?”

Smiling, Mana stands and pulls him straight back to the carnival games. Oh, so they’re not talking more? Syrus has to admit to being disappointed.

“Favorite color?” Mana asks as they try to catch tiny goldfish and distracts Syrus from the extra shiny one he almost caught.

“Actually...it’s orange,” he amidst sheepishly. “But I look horrid in it.”

“Aw, I think you’d look cute in orange! Like a little pumpkin.”

“A pumpkin?!”

“Oh? I’m sorry, was that an insult?” Mana asks with such genuine concern and confusion that Syrus can’t even be mad.

Shaking his head, Sryus flips the question around on her. “What about you?”

Mana stares at the water in the plastic pool. “It used to be purple...but I think I like grey a little better now.” She looks up and smiles and Syrus can’t help but feel like he’s missed something significant in that response.

“Favorite animal?” Mana asks once they’ve moved on to a ring toss game.

“Dogs,” Syrus says immediately, then feels self conscious about it. “I mean, they’re loyal and fluffy and I’ve always wanted one, they look fun to play with-”

Mana laughs. “Dogs are man’s best friend, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Mine are birds.” Mana looks up to the sky. “Because they can fly. I always wanted that freedom.”

“But you can fly too, can’t you?”

“In spirit form. But I can’t go too far from my card. Like this I can only float a bit.” With a snap of her fingers, her feet lift a couple centimeters off the ground in demonstration.

“That’s so cool.” Syrus stares in awe as Mana sets her feet back on the ground.

“The silliest thing you’ve ever done?”

A deep breath as a laundry list of his most mortifying experiences assault him. Breath out. He digs deeper for an older memory less tarnished by years of ridicule and insecurity. “I wore a sand bucket on my head and called myself a king.”

Mana laughs, loud and sudden, and Syrus takes pride in his four year old self for managing to entertain two people. He doubts he’d share that memory with anyone else; it’s one of the few he has of Zane smiling.

“I used to hide in giant vases then jump out and scare the crap out of my best friend,” Mana says with a wide grin, and Syrus snorts because he can picture it clearly. “Master always scolded me, but his reactions were too fun.”

Her master? Dark Magician then? Syrus wonders what kind of person would get to hang out with both of them. Probably another powerful spellcaster. “What is he like? Your master? Or...is he here today too?”

“Mahad? No, his situation is different from mine so it’s harder for him to cross the border,” Mana says, scanning the festival for their next game. “He’s pretty strict, and doesn’t know how to take a joke. But he’s kind and selfless.” Her voice grows soft and wistful, then she shakes herself and scratches her cheek. “Honestly, we’re kinda opposites, but that’s what makes it fun.”

She points to a shooting game booth before eagerly charging toward it; Syrus shows her how to use the toy gun and manages to beat her at this game. He still lets her pick out the prize, giggling when she picks out a lucky cat keychain.

“Dream career?” The key chain sways as it dangles from her finger.

Syrus fidgets. “It may seem kinda obvious, but I wanna be a pro duelist. A really famous one,” he mumbles, eyes turning to the ground.

“I bet you’ll be more famous that Yugi!” Mana cheers and Syrus quickly waves his hand in front of him.

“No! No, I doubt that!”

“Do you wanna have kids?” she asks while they fish for balloons with little hooks on strings.

Syrus chokes and drops his string straight into the water. “I mean, uh, maybe?? I guess I’d like- like to settle down and- and have a family- eventually...”

Mana smiles, but it looks a bit sad. “Yeah. I definitely want that too.”

“Best childhood memory?” Nimble fingers rifle through the Senbonbiki strings before giving one a tug.

Syrus answers without hesitation. “Zane teaching me how to duel.”

The string is a dud without a prize attached; Mana turns from pouting to look at Syrus with curious eyes. “Oh?”

“Yeah... we...” Syrus looks away, tries to keep the melancholy out of his voice. “We had a good relationship back then.”

Mana hums, reaching out to take his hand and wander back through the festival. “I think...mine is meeting Atem for the first time.”

Atem. That’s Christina’s ace card. Syrus shouldn’t be surprised he’s a duel spirit too. “Are all monster cards duel spirits?”

“Not every card has a spirit attached, but I have noticed almost every design mirrors a creature or person that actually exists.”

“Weird.” Honestly, Syrus never thought about it before, but it’s really weird that a game on Earth could accurately depict creatures from another dimension. Sure, Pegasus based the original cards off carvings he found in Egypt, but those were 3000 years old! Some of the new archetypes look distinctly futuristic, and Jaden designed the Neo Spacians so explain that! Just thinking about it gives Syrus a headache.

“Have you ever lost a fight?” he ventures to ask as they nibble on chocolate bananas.

“Lots of times,” Mana laughs at herself. “Especially during training. And no matter how good you are there’s always someone stronger, so tactical retreat is necessary!”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Syrus nods. The sky’s getting darker. Will Mana still be here for the fireworks? “What’s it like being a spirit?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. “It’s...lonely sometimes,” she admits, voice soft, almost forlorn. “Not many people can see us. We entertain ourselves by watching the world and taking bets on what kind of trouble Jaden will get into next.” Mana shrugs and smiles, an obvious attempt to make light of the situation, but Syrus can see straight through it.

“Oh,” he says, wishing he could put his emotions into words that wouldn’t hollow.

Mana glances out at the darkening sky, voice soft as she asks, “One thing you really wanna do before you die?”

“Huh?” The question startles Syrus as much as the oddly wistful tone. “I guess...” He hesitates. One thing? The thing he wants to do most? That he’d regret never doing? “I wanna be happy. With someone I mean!” he quickly amends and the word babble spills out from there. “I wanna get married and buy a house and share my life with someone. I know it probably doesn’t sounds that ambitious but-”

“No, that’s a great ambition.”

Syrus can’t really name the emotion on Mana’s face. Nodding, he looks down at his feet and fiddles with his hands. “Maybe...if we get to know each other better...you could be that person?” He squeezes his eyes shut, not daring to look up.

An intake of breath. “Syrus...”

The boom rattles through his bones and Syrus screams, flinging himself towards the nearest source of comfort and shelter, straight into Mana’s arms. Oh. Oh, the fireworks! Prying his eyes open reveals bursts of color lighting up the sky as another boom shakes the air. He laughs awkwardly and rights himself, murmuring an apology.

“I don’t have much time left,” Mana says, colored light illuminating her mournful expression, and the dread seizes Syrus by the throat.

“Ki-kiss me properly this time!” Oh gods his voice cracked and got really screechy, but he said it! His hands fist against his legs, trembling as her heart goes off on another marathon, and what if she rejects him? What if he read this all wrong? What if-

“Okay.”

Her kiss lingers on his lips long after the fireworks fade and she disappears back to being a spirit. He can still feel her hand against his own, and this time he knows it’s real.

[violetwolfraven]

Peace and Joy

@spot-king-of-brooklyn I’m your secret Santa! @newsies-secretsanta

You said your favorite ships are sprace and/or javid and you’re good with pretty much anything so I’m gonna write two separate vaguely holiday-related oneshots in the reincarnation AU. Don’t worry though nothing heavy, just fluff. No COVID because I’ve had enough of that dude and I say so. Enjoy! Happy Holidays!

Tw: referenced past period-typical homophobia.

...

Spot couldn’t remember being this happy... ever. Not in the early 1900s or in the early 2000s.

Well, the closest he could think of was 1902, when he and Race moved on from being newsies and from being leaders of their respective boroughs and rented that old apartment in Brooklyn together. But that had been muted by the need to be careful. They couldn’t be normal young people in love because they always had to hide.

And that was fine at the time because it was expected. It was them doing whatever it took to be together not knowing they’d ever get the chance to do it another way.

Now, in the bright, beautiful, forward-thinking 21st century, they could be safe. They could be in love without fear of the consequences. They could go out Christmas shopping together, and Spot didn’t know if that counted as a date, but it kind of felt like one as he watched his boyfriend bop a little to Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You as he looked around.

He ended up having to look away before he started blushing too hard. Even if he wasn’t the King of Brooklyn this time, he still had a bit of a reputation as a stone cold badass. For all he knew, one or more of their more mischievous friends could be spying on them right now. And besides, this thrift store probably had stuff he could get the few Brooklyn kids who’d come back, too.

He was still deciding if Hotshot would think it was funny if he got him a tank top that said ‘hot stuff’ on it. The others would find it funny, but Spot honestly wasn’t sure if it would make his former second uncomfortable.

“Hey, Spottie, ya think my little brother would like this?”

Spot turned back to see Race holding up a bright purple worm on a string, but a giant version of one. One that was big enough to be a scarf.

“Knowin’ your family,” he admitted, “I think any of ‘em would be happy to get one of those.”

It was true. Honestly, the most sensible Larkin brother was the second-oldest, Crutchie, but Spot could still see him proudly wearing a worm-on-a-string-scarf to school after winter break ended.

Besides him, Medda, Race’s mom, tended to embrace whatever unique fashion choice she could find. And Jack, of course, didn’t let being the oldest of four stop him from being a theatrical little shit who liked drawing attention to himself.

And Romeo was somehow even more eccentric than Race, so he would definitely like that thing.

Race grinned, “I’m gonna get Ro a worm scarf for Christmas.”

“Your family is ridiculous.”

“Thank you. So, what’re ya gettin’ for Denton?”

Oh, shit. Spot had completely forgotten about getting anything for Denton.

He really should get something for him. After all, the teacher hadn’t even known Spot when Jack asked if he could stay with him. All he’d needed to know was that Spot needed a place to hide from his terrible parents and couldn’t stay with the Larkins, mostly because Medda had a strict rule about her boys’ partners sleeping over unless it was absolutely necessary. (it was also because Spot couldn’t think of anyone he’d want to live with less than Jack Kelly, but Denton didn’t really need to know that, did he?)

So far, Spot’s parents hadn’t shown any signs of missing him, and Spot couldn’t decide if that hurt or not, but it barely mattered anymore.

Because Denton didn’t really have any rules beyond ‘do your homework’, ‘take a shower occassionally’, and ‘if you leave the house, let me know where you’re going.’ He helped Spot pick out a Halloween costume, let him spend Thanksgiving with Race, and gave him money for Christmas shopping. He was fine with Spot being gay and having a boyfriend, even if there was an added rule with that of ‘you can’t have the door closed if you’re alone in your room with Race.’

He gave Spot space, but also made it clear that he could come to him for anything he needed help with. He never hit him, never pushed when Spot wanted to be alone, never even raised his voice unless they were in an already-loud room and he needed to get his attention.

In short, in only a few months, he’d become the best adult Spot had ever had in his life. He wasn’t his father, but he was closest thing Spot had ever gotten to a dad.

The Denton they’d known in their last life had been kind of like that, too. He’d helped as best he could whenever one of the newsies got into trouble, always being there for anyone who needed him since Kath first introduced her new reporter friend to her newsie friends. Of course, Spot hadn’t been living with Denton then, so he’d never really thought about it.

“What do you even get a middle-aged man for Christmas?”

Race shrugged, “Power tools?”

The idea of getting Denton power tools was so ridiculous that they both laughed.

“Uh... he’s a writer,” Race pointed out, “So... fancy pens?”

“Fancy pens? We’re at a thrift store, Racer.”

“Well we don’t gotta stay here forever. There’s a Barnes and Noble across the street.”

He wasn’t wrong about that, but Spot wasn’t sure about the whole ‘fancy pen’ thing. It seemed a little generic.

“Yooooo! Spot, check this out for Jack!”

He was holding up a bright blue sketchbook that said ‘Sketchy Bitch’ on the cover.

“Oh yeah, ya definitely have to get that for Cowboy.”

Spotting (no pun intended) something else on the shelf behind him, Spot grinned.

He had the perfect thing to get for the man who’d taken him in.

...

“This is gonna be so fuckin’ awesome.”

Davey snorted, “You’re way too excited ‘bout this, Jackie.”

He loved his boyfriend, but he had a tendency to get overenthusiastic about things.

Well, he loved that about Jack, too. And he loved being able to call him his boyfriend, now. That they didn’t need to hide this time.

He and Sarah had both been a little worried about their parents’ reaction, but it had turned out to be for nothing. They’d each gotten a t-shirt with their respective pride flag for the first night of Hanukkah, and Jack and Kath were always welcome to come over as long as at least one parent was home.

Davey loved Jack just as much in this lifetime as he had in his first, but it was different, not having to hide it. It was good different, but definitely different. Being able to be who they were and be in love and knowing that it was generally frowned upon to be homophobic now, at least where they lived.

And being able to do random shit that was romantic and fun as hell, but not something would even occur to most people to do.

After a sleepy conversation once Crutchie, Race, and Romeo had fallen asleep watching White Christmas (which Davey appreciated for the choreography in the dance numbers) one time about how there weren’t really any Hanukkah movies, Jack had collaborated with Kath to write a lesbian Hanukkah musical romcom to post to YouTube.

Objectively, it wasn’t that great. It was good for a movie made by a bunch of high school juniors, but they couldn’t afford good cameras or microphones or anything. Plus, it was appealing to a very niche audience, so Davey doubted this movie would get more than twenty views.

Still, it meant a lot that Jack was so excited about it, that he was working so hard on props and editing in the lighting and music for it so Kath and Saz could play Jewish lesbians fake-dating at a holiday party who fall in love. It was cute.

“It ain’t gonna win any awards,” Jack admitted, “But I think we’s got somethin’ good here!”

“We do,” Davey agreed.

Was he actually talking about the romcom starring his sister and her girlfriend? Partially. It was a pretty good movie for something produced by teenagers.

But they had something good there that wasn’t on the screen of Jack’s laptop, too.

Jack seemed to share those thoughts, with the way he was smiling.

“What’s with the look, mi amor?”

Davey rolled his eyes as the other boy put his arm around his waist.

“Like you don’t know, love,” he chuckled, “Remember the last time we did somethin’ like this? And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you.’”

“Shh,” Jack shook his head, “Nope. We don’t talk about the latkes incident.”

“You mean when you almost burned down our tiny little kitchen trying to—“

“We don’t talk about it!”

Davey laughed. It was funny, how Jack couldn’t, in any lifetime, cook anything more complicated than like... chili or stew. While he could make something edible, he couldn’t make anything that was really considered good.

“Davey, love, luz de mi vida, it was literally over a hundred years ago, so stop. Bringin’. Up. The. Latkes. Incident!”

He punctuated the sentence by hitting Davey with one of his mom’s throw pillows.

“Okay, Jackie, I get it! Stop hitting me!”

“Fine,” Jack grinned, “I ain’t almost burned down a kitchen in over a century, babe. I thinks that’s a good record to have.”

“Most people never almost burn down a kitchen,” Davey pointed out, “I know I—wait, did you just call me ‘babe’?”

Jack was definitely not meeting his eyes to try to hide how he was blushing, “Uh... is that okay?”

Davey smirked. Jack didn’t get flustered that often, but it was adorable when he did.

And even if he had almost burned down their apartment, it had been cute back then, how he’d tried so hard to try to do something nice for Davey for the holiday season. It was cute now, too.

That was one thing that hadn’t changed through the decades, he guessed.

“It’s definitely okay, babe.”

...

“Spot, is this a... ‘Best Dad In The World’ mug?”

“...if you cry, I’m outta here.”

[kindness-bliss]

New Beginnings

Timothy Thatcher x OC

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None for now (but will make sure tag triggers if presented)

It was just another day, another day of pointless photoshoots for Maya. Photoshoots that meant nothing to her but having to look pretty and pose in front a camera for hours. To her it all just meant a job that paid her bills and kept her from having to rely on her parents. A job that paid for her college, got her an apartment in sunny Florida and got her to leave that past life.

“These are gonna look great for the campaign, your face truly pops out in them” Jasmine her photographer smiled as she shot “you’re living every girls absolute dream”. Maya chuckled “well thank you, I try hard to look and feel the best. After leaving Europe, I finally am starting to feel like myself”. Europe, a place that held the most beautiful memories for her yet caused her years of pain and self doubt. Florida represented home for her, a sense of comfort she hadn’t felt in years. She sat and fixed her hair as she looked in the vanity at herself, in no way was she vain but she knew she was beautiful. Her long brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders, her lips that were plump and proportionate, her button nose, the cheek bones girls at her agency fawned over. To put in simple terms to everyone around her called her perfect.

“Okay this has to be the last one because I promised my friends I’d meet them for dinner and drinks, I’ve been here 2 whole months and have yet to see them” Maya chuckled as she came out in her dress “we’ve got lots and lots of catching up to do”. God it had been so long since she had seen them, work never let her have a social life or even live life actually. The second she turned 17 and signed her contract she knew it meant the end of things being her choice, but the money. The money she earned, oh man that’s what made it all worth it. By 20 she owned an apartment and was able to buy her own car, something she never even thought could happen. “We got it, we got the shot for the campaign” Jasmine grinned as she showed her the camera “IMG is gonna be so happy, I think you’re getting that cover. No way they’re gonna deny this one”. Maya blushed as she felt that rush go through her veins, it never felt real to see herself on magazines or billboards. To her it was always a shock, it was a shock and feeling of pride seeing herself when she shopped and ran errands. It never felt real, nor would it ever. “Oh shit, it’s 7 I gotta go before I’m late ! Thanks again Jas you’re an angel !” She smiled as she left in her dress and heels to the restaurant and sat and chatted with her friends chatting away. “Him ?” She chuckled as looked towards the bar “oh god no, no way in hell unless I’m getting paid”. It’s 2021, humid florida weather and the man had on dickies.....dickies. She could see from afar he had on a plain black shirt and some form of ripped and faded vans. “You get him to be yours and the vacation house my parents gave me is all yours for the entire summer” her friend Veronica grinned “deal ?”. Maya looked at her and then at the man and bit her lip as she looked ahead, offering her hand “deal, he’ll be mine. I’ll make absolute sure of it”. She took a drink and headed over as she fixed her hair and dress and sat next to him and smiled softly “Hi, oh I love that book. Read it in college for my political science class”.

“And when was that ? Last month” Tim retorted as he didn’t bother to lift his head. “Excuse me ?” Maya scoffed “is this how you treat every girl who talks to you or am I just the exception ?”. Tim chuckled as she closed his book and turned his stool around “listen, I’ve seen your kind around okay. Pretty girls who come to bars and want guys to fawn over them, it’s not me sweetheart”. He looked her over discreetly and gulped, he’d dated his fair share of women but never had he seen one like her. Never. “First of all I graduated 3 years ago and I actually have a masters, and second of all I read The Socialist Manifesto during my 2nd year. I majored in Politcal Science and minored in Psychology” she said as she sat down next to him. “You want an applause ? Balloons ? A celebration ?” He said back. Jesus the attitude, the attitude of this man, the audacity. She looked at him trying to hide her dismayed expression as she studied him over, crooked nose and some wrinkles that showed age but overall handsome. He had soft brown hair, nice deep brown eyes and a dimple on one cheek. Perhaps the biggest thing she noticed was the chipped teeth, sure maybe a bit ugly but it definitely showed character. But even then his huge attitude was a turn off for her, no one had ever been so rude to her before. “Have a nice night...whatever your name is” Maya muttered as she got up from her chair and left back to her friends table

“Veronica Rose you owe me money, no way in hell that.....thing is coming by me” she shook her head as she took a shot to forget about the denial. “Jesus that bad huh ? I thought someone looking like him would be easy” Veronica laughed. “Yeah well no, I felt talked down to and like an absolute dumb ass. I’m going home” Maya sighed as she grabbed her purse and walked away bumping into a body as she felt herself get soaked “watch it idiot !”. Tim widened his eyes as he turned a bright shade of red “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there”. “Oh please, you’re like 6 feet, you really didn’t see me ? Is this some kind of sick joke I need to laugh at ? Open those big bug eyes you’ve got and control your lanky legs next time” she spat out as she left the bar furious.

“Hey ! Wait wait !” Tim walked after her “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t do that on purpose just please stop walking !”. Maya stopped and turned around “what ? What do you want ?” She snapped “what is it ?”. Tim gulped as he took in her face against the lighting of the street lights, he had never seen someone so beautiful, even drenched in beer. “Here” he said quickly as he took his hoodie out of his backpack and offered it “i-it’s a bit cold and I don’t think you wanna be wearing that dress out”. Maya gave him a look wanting to say no but taking it as she noticed her skin begin to get goosebumps from the chilly winds. “Thanks” she said softly as she put it on “I’m Maya” she offered her hand to him

“Tim, I’m Tim” he took her hand into his rough calloused one and gently shook it “Listen I’m sorry for how I treated you, I just-it wasn’t on you. I acted like such an asshole towards you” he apologized. Damn he could be such an asshole sometimes and it was always when he wasn’t trying to be. Time after time he was told to stop being the way he was, to not be uptight butt here he was at 1 am in the middle of a street apologizing to some girl he had just met for being an asshole. Not a typical night for Timothy Thatcher, the one time he decided to grab a beer after training this happens. The one time he wasn’t at his apartment in bed by 9 pm he insults a girl he didn’t even know and now there she stood 1 foot away from him wearing his favorite hoodie and smelling like beer. Just his own damn luck.