#he knows she's been the bear's honey pot for weeks now and this is what he brings to the table

[eldergremlin]

wizard!lau's recollection of the astarion romance scene post ascension:

[2tcs]

day 1: camping and candle

“Ugh. Why are we doing this again?” Danny complained as he watched his dad pull supplies out of the GAV.

“Well, your dad and I agreed that everyone has been a little too stressed. What with the ghosts destroying part of the school and your father and I's recent slump.” Maddie absently replied as she began clearing a spot for the fire pit.

“Besides Danno. This gives us the perfect opportunity to try out the new and improved Fenton Anti-ghost Tent.” Jack shouted as he put a glowing box on the ground and pressed a button on the side that caused it to fold out into what could only be described as a family-size carnival tent.

“Hay Jazz?”

“Ya Danny?”

“Please tell me you packed the actual tent.”

“Yes. I even managed to buy a box of MREs in case Mom and Dad brought contaminated food again.”

“A week of MREs. Yay. Well, we might as well get our side of camp set up 'cause I am not sleeping in that.”

👻🦇👻🦇

“Come hi everyone this is going to be fun. Think about it! Tents, roasted marshmallows, campfire stories. This will be awesome.” Dick said as he jumped out of the van and started unloading camping supplies.

“This is a survival training exercise, Richard. Not a family bonding trip.” Damian said as he looked at the single-family size tent that Dick had packed.

“For once I agree with Damien. This is not what I would consider “fun” or “awesome”.” Tim said as he set up his laptop to finish his report for the next WE project that is due next week.

“I just want to know how the hell I got roped into this.” Jason grumbled as he started picking up stones for a campfire ring.

“Come on guys. This is as close to family vacation as we have been able to get in, like, ever. Let's make the most of it and have some fun.” Dick pleaded with them. “You agree with me, right Duke?”

“I mean. Except for you and Damien, we're all city kids. But I guess it could be fun.” Duke hurriedly added on as he saw Dick start to pout. “Yeah, yeah. Well, I ain't setting this up myself. Duke help me with these rocks. Tim helped Dick set up the stupid tent. And Damien you got the most experience in survival training. I need you to go through and scout the area and pick up wood for this fire.” Jason said while ignoring Dick's happy dance at his family getting along and helping each other.

🦇👻🦇👻

“Come on Danno! How can you protect yourself from ghosts if you don't put on the Anti-ecto Spray?” Jack asked as he followed Danny as he gathered wood for the fire.

“We're in the middle of the forest, Dad. All we have to worry about out here is bugs and bears. And we have a spray for both already.” Danny argued.

“He's right Dad. Besides you have that Ecto Shield that will be covering the camp once everything is set up for the night.” Jazz said, watching as her dad pouted and walked over to their mom.

“Madds? You'll put on the Anti-ecto Spray won't you?”

“I'm sorry dear. But you know that stuff causes my skin to rash. I think I might be allergic to something we used in it.” Maddie said as she pulled out a dutch oven and some baking supplies. “Here honey, why don't you go and make some fudge? I know how much you like your campfire fudge.”

“Campfire fudge is pretty good. But we're going to need more firewood if we're going to bake.”

“I got it Dad.” Danny said, taking off into the woods in a desperate attempt to get away from all the anti-ghost stuff.

“That's my Danny Boy! Always eager to help out. Make sure you get some good size logs too!”

“I’ll go with him. For the buddy system.” Jazz said as she began to walk in the direction Danny had run off in.

👻🦇👻🦇

“Tt.”

“Don't Tt me. A dutch oven is an essential if you are going camping.” Jason said as he checked to see if the water was boiling before moving the pot back over the fire so that the water in it could stay hot.

“It is cumbersome and will weigh us down if we must move quickly through the woods.” Damian huffed.

“Well, it's a good thing we aren't going to need to move quickly through the woods. Now here's a knife and some potatoes. They've already been washed so now they just need cut up.”

“And what makes you think I will help you cook?”

“For the same reason that Tim is cutting up veggies and Duke is cutting the vegan turkey sausage. If you want to eat. You need to help.”

“Richard is not helping.”

“Richard would burn the forest down if we let him do anything more than roast marshmallows.”

“Hay! I'm not that bad.” Dick whined from where he was still struggling with the tent.

“August 26th, 2010.” Tim deadpanned as he put the veggies into the oven.

“Okay. That's not fair Tim.”

“Um. What happened in 2010?” Duke asked before they were interrupted my a loud explosion to the east of them.

“Put a pin in that Glowstick. I think we should check that out.” Jason said as he put the lid on the pot and moved it away from the fire before Tim quickly grabbed the bucket of dirt they had and smothered the fire with it before taking off towards the sound.

🦇👻🦇👻

“What the hell was that!” Danny yelled as he dropped the sticks he was carrying and ran back towards camp.

“I don’t know! Just run!” Jazz shouted back as she pulled out her collapsible creep stick and tossed Danny the laser lipstick.

By the time they broke through the brush, they saw the camp in chaos. The new tent was trying/failing to eat Jack and Maddie was fighting the ecto lights.

“I kinda want to let them suffer.” Danny said as he deactivated the lipstick. Only to sigh as a group of four men ran into the clearing and began to try and help.

“I don’t think that’s an option anymore.” Jazz commented as she watched the human tank shoulder-check their dad to get him out of the way while a tall slender man expertly climbed the poles of the tent to get to the power switch that was at the top of the tent for some reason.

“I don’t know Jazz. They seem like they're doing a good job.” Danny replied as the shortest and skinnyest of the group tried to help Maddy with the lights.

“I’ll get the lights. You get the tent.” Jazz sighed before taking off and using the creep stick to tangle the lights and yank them out of the portable ecto-battery that their parents brought with them. Danny in the meantime ran to the GAV and climbed on top to give him a clear shot at the off button seeing as the tent was moving too much to climb. One clean shot and the tent folded in on itself, back into the box it was that morning.

“Danno! Jazzypants! Good job!” Jack shouted as he scooped both kids into a hug.

“And thank you to you four as well. It’s clear you have had training but you should really leave the ecto fighting to the professionals.” Maddy addressed the young men who had come over to make sure everyone was okay.

“Ecto fighting? Lady I don’t know” The tank asked as he crossed his arms.

“What my brother means to say!” The one who tried to climb the tent interrupted. “Is that we’re from Gotham so are kinda used to having to fight. I’m Dick by the way. This is my brother Jason. Tim is the one who is currently investigating the tent box? And Duke is standing next to him. And last but not least this is Damian!”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you all! I’m Jack! That’s my lovely wife Maddie, and these are our kids! Jazz and Danny!”

“You were quite adept with your baseball bat. Have you ever thought about training with a bo staff?” Damian asked Jazz.

“It’s actually what I was originally trained in when Mom was training me how to fight.” Jazz said while straightening her hair once Jack put her and Danny down.

“If you want honeybun I can make you a new bo staff when we get home. It would offer more maneuverability during a ghost fight.”

“Ghost fight?” Tim asked as he and Duke walked over to the little family.

“Ya! Me and Madds here are ectobiologists!” Jack excitedly said before Jazz took the wind out of his sail.

“It doesn’t really matter what we are right now. The FAT completely wrecked the camp. The GAV and the MREs are okay but we’ll probably have to move camp or go home.”

“I saw an old cabin to the west of us with some candles and stuff not far from here when I got the first batch of firewood. We could stay there and leave some of our supplies in exchange for anything we use.” Danny chipped in.

“Hay! I think we passed that on the way here! Maybe we can all camp together! Safety in numbers you know?” Dick suggested as he bounced on his toes.

“That’s a great idea! How about you boys gather your camp and meet us there!” Jack cheered before he ran off to pack the GAV back up.

“Danny dear. Can you go with them and mark a trail to the cabin for us? Here’s some orange ribbon to tie to the trees.” Maddy said before ushering Jazz off so that Danny could “hang out with boys his age.”

“So,” Danny said as he started down the trail. “Gotham huh?”

“Yup. Where are you from?” Dick asked.

“Amity Park.”

“The most haunted place in the world?” Tim asked as he pulled out his phone and began typing.

“Sounds interesting.” Duke said only for Danny to through his head back and groan loudly causing the siblings to look at each other.

“Yes, it's haunted. No, I would not recommend going. The government already has it’s nose in it. And even though my parents didn’t recognize a group of Wayens doesn’t mean I didn’t. We do not need that kind of publicity.”

“Fair enough.” Jason shrugged while leaning over to look at Tim’s phone.

“Let’s just get this done.” Danny grumbled trying to walk ahead of the group.

“We’re totally going to investigate this aren’t we.” Duke whispered when Danny was far enough ahead.

“Tt. Obviously Thomas.”

~~~~~

An hour late but I think I did it. Hope everyone enjoyed it!

[princess-of-the-corner]

Random Fanfic Qutoes!

I forget which fics these are from, but they make me laugh!

He didn’t need to look up to know Tsunagu was smiling at him. Which was good, because Katsuki’s eyes were never going to leave the floor. It was a very interesting floor, and he was going to stare at it until it conceded to his will and swallowed him whole. Any second now.

*

barry benson: i’m pan actually

barry benson: i swing all ways

barry benson: violently

*

Loaded: Oh I adore Izuku and he has some of the best support item analysis I have ever seen 

Loaded: I also adore Hatsume and would fight god for her 

Loaded: I would rather stab myself with a hot poker than be the only adult in a room with them again 

*

Spiderman: My guy 

Spiderman: My homie in whatever eldritch being Izuku summoned this week 

Spiderman: One of my four platonic soul mates 

Spiderman: You are the loudest mother fucker I have ever met and you have bombs for hands

*

Katsuki: Regarding yesterday’s shit show

Katsuki: Because shit shows are apparently just an everyday thing now

Katsuki: Like a goddamn las vegas attraction

Katsuki: But you know, my actual life 

*

I sawed this boat in half: -Lemony Snicket voice- the word ‘poison’ here can mean many things. 'Poison’ may literally refer to the presence of an unwashed llama in a stream from which a nearby village likely collects its drinking water. Likewise, it may figuratively refer to the effect of greed and isolation on the priorities of a young ruler, or the machinations of a villainous got an advisor on the health and wellbeing of said young ruler. In this case, however, 'poison’ most literally refers to the poison. The poison for Kuzco, the poison chosen especially to kill Kuzco, Kuzco’s poison…. that poison.

*

Homochromia: I’m not lying on the floor physically but I am lying on the floor spiritually

*

ura-ra-ah-ah-ah: ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ :honey_pot: help him get his honey

Ridley: ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ he has been a naughty bear… no honey

ura-ra-ah-ah-ah: :gun: ʕ•̀ᴥ•́ ʔ do you think this is a game

*

Dwayne Johnson: mina enters the kitchen

Dwayne Johnson: oven: on

Dwayne Johnson: water: boiling

Dwayne Johnson: pasta pot: in the oven

Dwayne Johnson: she is forcibly removed from the kitchen

*

Aux cord: im going to eviscerate you and hang your guts over the school gates

KarateKid: no thank you

I sawed this boat in half: remember kids, if someone tries to maim you, just say no. they legally cannot maim you without your consent

*

ura-ra-ah-ah-ah: how are you the younger brother

sanic: My brother left all his braincells in the womb so I absorbed them

*

Walking phone charger: YOULL NEVER FIND ME

Walking phone charger: I HAVE THE HEART OF A LION

Walking phone charger: AND A LIFETIME BAN FROM MUSUTAFU ZOO

 *

Walking phone charger: how this conversation began: lol we keep accidentally predicting shit how wack is that

Walking phone charger: us like an hour later: hey have you ever thought about the implications of the government employing kids to fight adult criminals who might kill them

*

all might simp: presiding judge who 100% has dealt with nezu before: im gonna have to ask you to be respectful

all might simp: nezu: i will politely decline

*

This thing where you say you’re ���fine” when you’re clearly not has gotten out of hand. I’m making a Fine Jar. Every time you say you’re fine and you’re not, you have to pay the jar. No exceptions. (Mental health is applicable.)

*

Aizawa: Bakugou - it has come to my attention that you held a laundry seminar with the whole class on the third weekend after move-in when you realized that no one knew what they were doing, so thank you.

-

These are all great I love them

[whispersafterdusk]

Legacy (pick your own)

"Do you think it would be fair to him? Giving him that name?"

Saifont looked up from the pot of loose leaf tea he'd been about to portion into the steaming teapot; his wife Surene, with some effort, stood from her seat at the table and went to fetch the sugar and honey. "Dearest, please - you're due any day now, allow me to-"

"-I'm not made of glass, and despite looking ready to pop like a grape I do not see myself delivering this child in our dining room today," she quipped back at him, giving him a little frown that wrinkled her nose as she went to the cupboard. "Now answer the question."

"I..."

Their first would be arriving very soon -- all had been readied for the baby and now they were in the anxiety-riddled waiting period. Technically the estimated due date had been last week so Saifont was especially nervous any time he spotted his incredibly pregnant wife doing anything at all, which had been a sore spot and the source of several short arguments. Another such argument was likely names. If it was a daughter they had thought Ophonne, or perhaps Adrianne.

If it were a son... It had been Surene's suggestion to name him after Saifont's uncle - that man who had stopped the Final Days... Revkr. At first he'd been delighted at the thought, though he'd thought Goudault as a back up would serve just as well; the more time had gone by though Surene had grown introspective, and less willing to discuss names for a boy. He'd wondered at that but any attempts to broach the subject had been brushed aside as already decided.

And now, this, finally - she was bringing it up herself.

"How could it be unfair?"

"It's quite a name to live up to, isn't it?" she asked quietly, setting the sugar and honey on the table and grimacing as she lowered herself back into her chair. "At first I thought it would be a fine way to remember the legacy and legend of your family, but... The more I think on it, the more I fear it would put too much pressure on the poor thing. Imagine being named for a hero, with all the world expecting greatness from you."

"Dearest..." Saifont said softly, leaving the tea and coming around to slip his arms around her shoulders. "What ever brought this on? You were so excited for the name not so long ago."

She sighed, resting her hands atop her swollen belly. "I was, and in a way I still am, but even your cousins have wondered if the name would carry too heavy a weight for someone to bear. Aedwen even admitted that that had stopped her from naming HER son after him."

Saifont squeezed her shoulders, then kissed her cheek. "A name may bear a legacy but it will be up to our child to decide their own path. My uncle was a hero, certainly, but he was also a selfless and loving man. I know he'd be proud of any path our child may choose, so long as it is on the side of goodness."

"Aye, you're probably right. It was foolish to let it bother me as it has. I just hope for the best for our little one."

"I know," he chuckled. "I hope for the same. And I hope he or she shows up soon," he added, patting her stomach.

"As do I. I miss seeing my own feet," she grumbled.

Saifont chuckled again and stepped back around to the teapot, adding the leaves to the strainer and closing the lid. Ulmant would be back soon with the sandwiches and cakes - a light brunch as a trade meeting had kept them both from joining the rest of the family for breakfast.

He was content to sip his drink while his wife ate, mind switching between this latest trade agreement and his first child's impending arrival.

I cannot wait to meet you. You would have adored your great uncle, and he would have adored you, no matter who you are or what we named you.

[lavishbylaw]

@wynterlanding // prev.

Oh, the director was stuck to her like bees to flowers. She was like a pot of honey, and he was bears with a craving for sweets. Perhaps, Genevieve adored the small chase a bit too much. After all these months of quietly wanting him, but assuming that their relationship could be nothing but business - or at most, casual. Now, it is as if the tables have turned. A new light has shone down on the pair - albeit, not a natural light. She had been trying to perfect this potion for weeks, now. That meant that she had time to mull over the consequences. She cared not for the possibility of them. She just wanted him.

"Mm... I would absolutely loved it if you stayed with me. I can see no better way to spend the rest of my day." She stated with a nod of her head, her eyes locked into a gaze with his. His pupils were so round, swollen with desire and need. A telltale sign that he could be under an intoxicating influence. Settling the palms of her hands against his chest allowed the witch to cop a feel. "...And who knows? I might just let you have me completely. ...If you're good to me." A suggestive statement, yes. But she couldn't deny the opportunity to toy around and have fun with such a successful event.

"You know what else would be nice? To prove to me just how much you love me? We could get married. ...People who love each other get married, right? And you can get me a beautiful ring. ...It doesn't have to be a grand ceremony. Just a trip to the courthouse would be just fine for me." And that would be a red flag, would it not? A woman who lives for the glamorous things in life would be satisfied with simply signing marriage licenses at a courthouse?

[tootiredmotel]

Give him the real thing

For @floral-cas 's event!!! First time writing from an outsider/oc's pov so bear with me. Huge huge congrats on your milestone K!!! You are a PILAR of this lil community and we all love you 💚🌺💚🌺💚🌺

Read on ao3. 1.7k words

"Alright, uh… confession. I got no idea what I'm doin' here."

He looked around the shop like a monster was about to pop out of any corner. Like the carnations were going to bite him and the pots lined up on the windowsill next to them would come to life and crush his feet. The poor guy looked terrified, but it's nothing Maya hadn't handled before.

"That's what I'm here for. What's your name?" She asked, sensing they'd be there a while.

"Dean."

On any other day, Maya would've been resenting a burly, middle-aged guy with no idea what he wanted coming into the shop twenty minutes before closing, especially on a Thursday. Jade had their A.A. meetings on Thursdays so Maya was alone for the evening. But this Dean guy? He looked so lost, so nervous, so utterly out of place. There was something else about him that made her want to help, too. Maya wasn't sure what, but she'd figure it out.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Maya. Let's start with this: why are you here today, Dean?"

"Anniversary tomorrow."

Concise and to the point. Maya made a mental note. She also noted how he wiped his palms on his jeans and clenched his jaw. Nerves.

"How many years have you been together?"

That got a smile out of him. "A lot. A whole lot. But this is, uh. First wedding anniversary."

She donned a wide smile. "Congratulations. That's wonderful."

"Yeah. Thanks, thank you." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, still not meeting her eyes.

"Doing anything special?"

"Nothin' fancy. My brother and his wife are taking the kiddo for the night so, picnic in the backyard, lookin' at the stars, all that cheesy romantic crap."

His words didn't match his tone. It was evident Dean was absolutely smitten, Maya recognized the look, and he was making an effort. He was filled to the brim with giddiness and adoration for this person, and it shone through from him just thinking about them. Jade still looked at Maya like that every morning and night, and so did Maya at them. Every day since freshman year of college. Maya's chest swelled.

"Thing is," Dean continued, a bit more relaxed now. "Cas knows all about this stuff. We got this huge garden behind the house that I'm not allowed to even touch. There's a million books about nature and trees and flower meanings on the shelf, and Cas has read all of 'em. I didn't even know flowers had meanings, I don't know jack shit about any of it, but…"

"You want to impress Cas."

"I wanna impress Cas. It's gotta be good." 

"You've come to the right place then." Maya kept an eye on Dean as she circled the counter. He was studying the pride flags hanging in the window with a clenched jaw, and Maya went on alert. She pulled out the binder they kept in the drawer and plopped it down in front of him a little harder than she needed to, calling his attention. "My partner Jade is more of a nerd about this stuff than I am, but they made this for situations like these."

Dean read the cover, Jade and Maya's Quick Guide to Flower Meanings, and smiled. "Nice."

They spent forty-five minutes walking around the store, binder in hand, slowly constructing the message Dean wanted to convey with his bouquet. He was adamant on it containing blue, so Maya went for the Forget-me-nots first. “Love and hope,” said the binder, which she deemed fitting enough for a first wedding anniversary. 

Dean looked like someone content with his life, and he agreed when Maya suggested they look under the happiness category. “Well, Cas makes me happy,” he said, and they settled on Felicias, also blue. 

Dean eventually got comfortable enough and leaned over to look at the binder in Maya’s hands. “Think there’s anything in there for grace?”

Highly specific, but possible, Maya thought. “Let’s find out.”

And they did. Plumerias, white.

“Anything else?” She asked him. Dean donned a thousand-yard stare as he thought about it, and Maya figured this man had been through a lot. More than she could ever imagine. She was glad he’d found some peace.

“Freedom,” Dean said finally. Freesias, white as well.

It was an odd bouquet, Maya admitted, but Dean was an odd man, and he looked happy with it. He was still nervous, still out of his element, but there was more excitement in the twinkle of his eyes than anything else.

“Cas will love it,” Maya assured him, and he beamed. She still knew very little about this Cas person— Dean could speak a lot without really saying anything, careful and reserved, even dancing around using gendered pronouns for Cas, which Maya found interesting—, but she could see Dean was living a happy life as their husband. That was good enough for her.

“Here’s hoping,” he said as he handed over his credit card, but he seemed a lot more sure than hopeful. He knew Cas would like it, and Maya couldn’t help a sense of pride grow inside her. Dean also put some cash in the tip jar and left with a smile. A good day’s work, and maybe a new friend in town.

---

“Maya?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Jade poked their head in the door, beaming at Maya as she ran the books in the back room.

"There's a gentleman asking for you."

"By name?"

Jade nodded. Maya sent them a questioning look, to which they just shrugged. If Jade wasn't all that worried about it, Maya supposed there was no reason for her to be either. She made her way out, squeezing Jade's hip as she passed them, and stepped up to the counter. The trenchcoat-clad man smiled at her.

"Maya?"

The depth of his voice caught her by surprise, but she recovered in time to reply "That's me."

The man smiled wider. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Cas. You might not remember, but last week you-"

"Did you say Cas?" Maya couldn't contain her interruption, or the eagerness as she asked: "Dean's Cas?"

Cas's smile widened even more, which she didn't think was possible. It was blinding, and Maya, even in all her queerness, could definitely understand what Dean saw in him. "That's right."

Dean’s fixation on blue flowers suddenly made sense too, as she noticed his eyes. "He adores you, you know. You're his heaven and earth."

Cas's smile faltered at her words, and Maya feared she'd said something wrong.

"I'm sorry if I'm overstepping."

“No, no, it’s alright.” He looked down at his wedding band, and his smile returned. “He’s all that and more to me.”

Cas stared at his ring for a second longer. It was silver and had a small blue gem embedded into it. Maya could swear it appeared to swirl with light.

“Dean spoke wonders of you,” she said.

He looked back up at her. “You, too.”

She blinked in surprise at that.

“I loved the bouquet. I thanked him for it, over and over, and every time he said you were the miracle worker. That he was clueless the whole time and couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s not true,” Maya deflected, a steady heat rising to her cheeks. “He had a pretty good idea of what he wanted. And, if anything, he and I couldn’t have done it without Jade’s expertise.” She gestured toward her partner, helping a customer at the other end of the shop, and also tapped the binder, which was out on the countertop today.

“Then I suppose I’m here to thank both of you.”

He reached into a tote bag that Maya hadn’t noticed he was carrying and pulled out a plastic container. “We run a small baking business out of our home. These are on me. Apple and honey tarts.” He placed the container in front of her. On top of it was a label that read D&C’s Pastries. “They are also gluten-free, just in case.“

“What’s going on?” Jade asked, approaching Maya’s side with an expectant smile.

“Jade, love, do you remember Dean? From last week?”

“You told me about him, yeah, wedding anniversary.”

“Well this is Cas,” she gestured to him.

“Dean's husband,” Cas interjected. Jade and Maya shared a knowing smile. “I just wanted to drop these off as a thank you for helping Dean. Apple and honey tarts, gluten-free.”

“That is so sweet of you,” Jade exclaimed, eagerly taking the pastries. Maya rolled her eyes fondly at the pun, which Cas didn’t seem to catch.

“I was just doing my job,” Maya said. “But thank you.”

“Papa!”

They all turned to the child, blond and adorable, running excitedly toward Cas. At the door, where the child came from, stood an exasperated Dean.

“Jack,” Cas started, scooping the child in his arms. Jack wrapped his arms around Cas’s neck. “I thought I told you and Daddy to wait for me at the café, I wasn’t going to be long.”

“He missed you. We both did,” Dean gazed at him as he approached. “Dude, what are you-”

Dean scanned over the scene he’d just walked into and seemed to realize what was happening.

“So that’s what the tarts were for. Hey, Maya.”

“Hi, Dean.”

“And you must be Jade,” Dean said, extending a hand toward them.

“Yes! Heard about you, nice to finally meet you, Dean.”

“You too. You and that book of yours are life-savers. If I’d known the tarts were for you guys, I would’a made more.”

“These are more than enough, thank you. In fact, here...” Maya turned to a vase of daisies they had on a shelf and pulled out three. “Now I feel like we’re even.”

“Not by a long shot,” Dean said as he took his flower and Cas’s. He put his behind his ear, and Cas’s in his trenchcoat’s lapel, as Maya handed Jack his own flower.

They all promised to not be strangers, and kept their promise. Dean and Cas would bring over baked goods, and in exchange, Jade and Maya would let them take home a potted plant for their garden. Jack would always leave with a small flower in his hand, a different one every time, wrapped in Cas’s arms as he explained the flower’s origins or symbolism to his son. Dean would be the last one out the door, always turning back and mouthing a “thank you” to Maya. Every time, without fail.

And every time, Maya would think that she wanted what they had. Happiness, peace, a family, unconditional and true love. And every time, she would look over at Jade, and know she was well on her way.

[jenojaemssss]

shii-take mushrooms! - k.dy

⇢ pairing: doyoung x fem!reader

⇢ word count: 1.6k

⇢ genre: fluff?

⇢ warnings/a.n: children. and cussing. i like children, i really do. they just scare me.

⇢ in which doyoung says a not-so-nice word in front of his daughter, and you try playing it off. as part of the "previously on" series.

➢

Doyoung glares at the figure standing behind his door with slanted eyes. He looks mildly disgusted, and you’re not sure if it’s because his daughter is covered from hair to shoes in strawberry jam, or because you’re standing in front of him with eyebags deeper than the sea.

“Please, Doyoung, I have a really important work meeting today, and I need you to watch her for like, 3 hours tops!” you beg him, eyes pleading the man in front of you.

He sighs and takes in your polished attire. Wherever it was you were going to must be top priority, seeing that you were decked out in the most business looking outfit he’s ever seen you in.

“I lost track of time prepping for the presentation that I somehow forgot it was today, so I didn’t call your mom beforehand and now she’s busy and-”

“-and now you’re here because my mom told you I had today off,” he cuts you off before looking at the little girl.

She’s looking at you with a glimmer in her eyes; the same glimmer that her dad used to have when he looked at you. She’s everything like him: from the way she talks, to her sassy attitude, to the way she pokes fun at her uncles.

You smile back down at her and look up to Doyoung with a small, apologetic smile on your face. His stone face turns soft when he sees her turn and smile up at him, lips smeared with the sticky red substance.

“In all seriousness, I really need this promotion, Doyoung. If I get this job, I won’t have to send her to your mom’s all the time anymore.” His face softens further. He knows how hard it was on you, working until late hours of the night to provide a nice environment for you two’s daughter, but you’ve been working a little too hard lately.

His mom has been on his ass for weeks about helping you find a more stable job; one that doesn’t require you to stay in for overtime almost every work day until almost midnight. She didn’t want you overworking yourself, which to her despair is exactly what you’ve been doing.

If you get this promotion, you can finally start working from home with more set hours. You’ll be able to spend more time with your daughter.

Doyoung looks at the girl lovingly and sighs, melting at her jam covered face once again. It really doesn’t matter that he and you ended things; she was still his little girl and he would do everything in his power to see her gummy smile.

So, he nods and bends down, picking up his daughter into his arms. He uses his thumb to swipe some of the jam off her mouth and you gratefully hand him a wet wipe that was already speckled with pink.

“Hi sweetie,” he grins at your daughter, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She giggles and throws her arms around his neck, choking him in a bear hug.

“I missed you, daddy!” she squeals and he chuckles in agreement.

“Me too sweet girl,” he squeezes her carefully, afraid that he might fracture her tiny bones.

You smile at the sight in front of you, knowing well that your daughter has been missing her dad for the past few weeks. He's been busy with work, similar to you, so he hasn’t been able to spend much time with his daughter either.

You notice his frail figure and an intense guilt washes over you. Today was probably his only day off for probably the next 2 months.

“Thank you Doyoung, I appreciate it,” you interrupt the conversing father-daughter duo. He looks at you warmly and nods again, holding the door open for you to come in and drop off your daughter’s belongings.

You trudge her things into the studio apartment, neatly decorated with many items you recognize from your old shared apartment. You haven’t stopped by in a while, but compared to the last time you’ve been here, the place seems chillier.

Your daughter and her backpack are softly placed on the couch, and the first thing she reaches for is her tablet. You send her a look and she puts it away with a frown. The little girl turns to her dad with puppy eyes; a special trick she learned from her uncle Haechan.

“Honey, you shouldn’t be looking at screens too often,” Doyoung says, petting her hair. He sits down next to her and begins helping her dig through the backpack in search for other things to occupy her with.

“Or else you’d end up like mommy and daddy with terrible vision,” you add. It’s your turn to pat her head and Doyoung chuckles at your comment, nodding along. He pulls out a coloring book and holds it in front of the two of them, fake-gasping at the newfound activity.

“I’m gonna go get us some crayons and colored pencils for this, okay?” he looks at his daughter, who’s filled with joy. She eagerly nods and he gets up, going into his kitchen for the supplies. Your little girl gets up and runs after her dad, poking her head around whatever he was looking into.

You check your watch and decide it’s your time to leave for your meeting. Another 10 minutes here and you might arrive exactly on time, which is something you’re praying doesn’t happen.

“Baby,” you call out to your daughter.

“Yeah?” you hear two voices call back. You turn to see both heads raised to face you, but the bigger (and dumber) one ducks down. Doyoung is blushing furiously at his old habit and tries to distract himself from embarrassment by intensely scurrying for the damned art supplies.

You’re just as shocked, but do a better job at covering up your embarrassment. “Babygirl, mommy has to get going,” you specify.

Your daughter runs back to give you a hug and bids you goodbye. She raises up a fist and you bump it, followed by a “blah la lah.” It’s something she picked up from Big Hero 6, a movie the three of you used to watch together.

While this takes place, a loud ‘bonk’ comes from Doyoung’s general directions.

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, but the curse is loud enough to reach your daughter’s innocent ears.

“What does-” your daughter begins, but something louder cuts her off.

“-TAKE MUSHROOMS!” you exclaim, clapping your hands in front of her. “We’ll have hotpot with shiitake mushrooms when mommy gets back later, isn’t that right daddy?” you glare in Doyoung’s general direction.

He stumbles over his response a couple times, but lets out a muffled “yeah” after a long moment.

In the meanwhile, your daughter bursts with excitement at the mention of hotpot. She begins telling you about what she wants in the soup and what broth she prefers. Your lips can’t help but form a smile at your daughter’s happiness when food is mentioned.

Speaking of food, your stomach exerts a low grumble, but it’s loud enough for your ears only, which you thank the heavens for.

Doyoung eventually gets back from the kitchen with the coloring utensils, his face still as red as the crayon he was holding. To your rescue, he approaches with a granola bar hiding in his pocket.

“I dropped the box on my head, but I wanted to get you something to eat,” he awkwardly shrugs and it’s your turn to blush.

Doyoung remembers your terrible habit of being a worrywart and not consuming any food before an important event, so he caught the feeling that you’re probably starving.

Doyoung notices the pink tint on your cheek and feels satisfied with his doing. He wishes you good luck and your daughter copies, jumping up and down in the process.

As you thank the two of them, your focus returns to Doyoung and you send him a slightly warning look. “Let’s make sure we keep our mouths clean today, okay?”

The widest smile plasters on your face when Doyoung flinches, and you finally exit the premises, leaving Doyoung and your daughter to their coloring.

As the door shuts behind you, Doyoung lets out a small sigh and turns to his daughter who’s now facing him. Though to you, she is everything like him, Doyoung sees no resemblance. Instead, he sees you in the little girl: from her smile to her nose, her voice and her hair. He sees her as a mini Y/N, and he loves it.

As he and his daughter sit down to begin their coloring ordeals, he can’t help but think about the meal plan you’d set. He wonders if you were serious, but before more thoughts begin to consume him, a small voice interrupts.

“What do you want in your hot pot, daddy?” his daughter looks up at him with wide eyes.

This is going to be hard to ignore. Maybe having a nice family dinner wouldn’t be too bad.

“I’ll take anything in it,” he begins.

“Except cucumbers,” the two finish in unison. An eruption of giggles burst out of the little girl at the synchronized speech, and Doyoung can’t help but melt at the bundle of joy. He smiles wide and watches her continue marking the page with colorful strokes of pencil and crayon.

Doyoung mentally begins preparing a grocery list for the night, adding everything needed for a steaming hotpot onto the growing list. He ends it with the addition of the previously mentioned shiitake mushrooms and grins, excited to share a meal with you and his daughter tonight.

“C’mon sweetie, let’s get ready to go shopping,” he holds out a hand and lifts his daughter up, putting on her jacket.

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 4- Your Disco Needs You. 

Intro: Paul adjusts to life at home post the shooting.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+) A heap of angst and feelings. He’s a soft, lil bean…

Word Count: 8k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 3

Three weeks. He'd been home three weeks and with each hour that passed Paul felt less like himself. He was frustrated, angry, irritated and irritable. Upon his discharge from the hospital, his attending physician explained that the road ahead wasn't going to be easy and so far that had proved correct. He'd spent eight days in ICU, not to mention the few after in the recovery ward, and according to the medical team at his disposal, each day spent there in ICU was a full week of added recovery at home. Eight fucking weeks. He wasn’t even half way through. Physically, bar his vocal chords, there had been little lasting damage. Something he should be grateful for, apparently. The wound in his neck had healed well so far, leaving an angry raised pink scar behind, but other than that, to look at, there was no physical signs he’d been moments from death at all. Emotionally, however, well, he was a wreck. If it weren't the continued nightmares as his mind rehashed the horror inflicted in the line of duty, it was the constant desperation to be himself inside and out, to feel like he was HER Disco.  For the first two weeks post the shooting, he'd been reduced to writing things on a notepad for Y/N and others as he couldn't speak more than a word or two and at a faint whisper or angry rasp. Over the last week, it had improved a little but still, holding a prolonged conversation was painful and he often as a result found himself reaching for that fucking notepad as a means to an end when it simply became too damned much to bear. 

He hated it.

Not only was socialising his forte, but his and Y/N’s relationship usually operated with a lot of conversation as they would talk over dinner, joke when watching TV, chat or whisper to each other when laying in bed at night. And not being able to indulge in those simple things properly with his fiancée was killing him. And don't even get him going on his thoughts and anguish over the way they'd not been their usual intimate selves. From touches and sweet kisses, to sex and general intimacy, there had been none, not due to anything she'd done, but all down to him, and how he viewed himself, felt about himself.  He pulled open the fridge, reaching in for the eggs and bacon before he moved to the stove, coffee brewing in the pot to the side. As he set about making them breakfast, he lost himself momentarily, concentrating on whisking the eggs ready to scramble before he heard the bedroom door click open as Y/N shuffled out into the bathroom. A few minutes later he heard her footsteps hit that squeaky board in the small hallway as she headed down to their kitchen. Soon he felt her arms around his waist, hands hooking over his chest and shoulders. Her lips pressed to the back of his shoulder. "I can take over." Quickly, Paul twisted out of her hold and raspilly said, "I can manage." She stepped back from him, and he was immediately crushed with guilt as he took in the look on her face. The way her eyes were downcast and how hard she swallowed. He watched as she blinked hard, moved her lips to say something and then she simply sighed, her shoulders dropping as she turned and left, back the way she came, down the hall and back into the bathroom. When he heard the slam of the door echo across their small apartment, Diskant threw the wooden spoon across the counter and leaned against its edge, a silent curse across his lips as let out a deep sigh.

For the last three weeks, this was how their days had started and ultimately set the tone for the hours to follow. He didn't know where to begin to try and as for Y/N, well, she couldn't try any harder. 

**** The door shut behind you with a little more force than you’d meant, having slammed it by accident in your haste to escape quickly before the tears of frustration and hurt spilt from your eyes. You were trying to rationalise his behaviour, you knew he was frustrated at how his recovery was progressing, more so because physically he looked okay. But he wasn’t. He was weak, sleeping a lot. He struggled to talk for more than a few minutes at a time and the simplest of tasks seemed to leave him drained. But you could cope with that, hell, you expected it. What you hadn’t expected however, was what hurt you the most- the fact he seemed to be shutting you out. Your relationship had always thrived on the fact you had no secrets, there wasn’t a thing the pair of you couldn’t talk about but now, it was like he’d put up a wall to keep you out. And it hurt.

You turned on the shower and whilst you waited for the water to warm, you stripped off your pyjamas and made sure to pile your hair out of the way to avoid it getting wet. Once it was at the right temperature you stepped into the cubicle, closing the glass screen door behind you and tipped your face up to greet the warm spray as the water washed away your silent tears… The day had finally come and he was going home. Things were set and the car was running and waiting. He'd been able to dress in a pair of sweats, his trainers and a button down shirt, sighing as he couldn't just walk out but had to be rolled out. Words were few, and very soft, a stark difference to his typical boisterous laugh and toothy grin. But you were all thankful, thankful he was alive, thankful he was okay and healing. His parents offered to take you both home, yours and Barnes waiting for you to arrive back at the apartment. Your parents had worked diligently at deep cleaning for you, taking one less thing off your list to do, knowing the first few days home would been an adjustment period, learning how to move with one another and go about a new routine from at home therapy to outside appointments, no doubt eventually a steady stream of visitors. You honestly were fine with whatever Paul had wanted. In reality, he hadn't said much or written much on his pad of paper all morning. But you went along with it anyway. The nurse wheeled him out and you walked along his side, the feeling of relief washing over you as you stepped over the threshold of the hospital entrance and watched him breathe in his first breath of fresh air in ten days. You held back tears, thankful for your Wayfarers covering your eyes. But you didn't miss his, the way he was desperately trying to keep himself together around everyone else. He gave a nod in thanks to the nurse and slowly sat down in the back seat of his parents' SUV whilst you moved around to the other side to settle yourself in. Nothing was said, it didn't need to be, but you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as Big Jim pulled away from the curb and headed towards home. When you went to move your hand away, he gripped it tightly, looking at you with those deep pools of blue.. You wanted to reach out to him, touch him on the one place you knew comforted him, made him melt, tell him he'd be okay, reassure him, but he was to your right, therefore his sutures and bandages were along the left of his neck and you couldn't touch him there, it was still painful, raw and frail. So you let him grip your hand the whole way home, the top of it reaching his lips a few times, just so, you thought at least, that he knew you were there, reminding him he was going to be okay. That he had you. As the four of you made your way into the apartment, you remembered that Barnes, your parents and by now no doubt Sam were there waiting for you all. Sure as you'd guessed, a thundering cheer and smiles came from the living room and filtered into your kitchen. The one bedroom, small space at capacity with guests. It was not the time for a 'Welcome Home' party. As Paul gathered a moment to himself, he looked to you and signalled he needed to write something down, so you grabbed the nearest note pad and a pen, the items you always had on the coffee table that collected your lists for groceries and to do items. His 'Honey Do' list as he liked to call it. He scribbled hastily and practically shoved the pad back at you. 'Can't do this. Need time.' "Okay," you looked at him after reading, "okay." You ushered over to Big Jim and Dotty, gently telling them that he was asking for some space, and they quickly understood, saying their goodbyes as you made the rounds, hoping neither of you looked like assholes in asking everyone to leave. With deep understanding, everyone left, allowing the two of you time together. You went to the kitchen to get water for you both, sighing as you saw the fridge stocked full and a freezer full of meals. Dotty and your mother, no doubt having done all that. When you returned to the living room, just a dozen steps away, Paul was sitting on the couch, hands on his thighs, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, I should have stepped in and said it was better to have people see you when you were ready. I didn't think...." A deep sigh interrupted you and what was an empty hand was now jotting a note again. He turned the notepad in his lap. 'I just need you.' Your lip quickly quivered and you gently leaned in to kiss his lips softly. "I'm right here." He gave you a small smile as you sat beside him. 

“Do you want to shower? Eat? Sleep?" Paul frowned deeply at each of your asks. He shook his hands at you, trying to tell you to slow down. Then, you sat in silence. He slowly stood after a long stretch of nothing between you and headed down the hall to the bathroom, albeit a bit wobbly at first and when you rose to help steady him, he shrugged you off. You gave him his space, but worried about him on his own. Then you heard the click of the door and the shower running… A knock on the bathroom door dragged you from your thoughts and knowing it could only be Paul, you turned the shower off for a moment so he didn’t have to shout. “Yeah?” You cleared your throat and listened carefully. “Breakfast is waiting when you’re done.” His voice was croaky, but you picked up his words easily enough through the thin door. “Okay, give me a moment. Be right out.” You called back, no longer wondering why he didn't open the door anymore or why he locked it when he was inside.  You turned the shower back on, quickly lathered up your gel before washing and stepping out, towelling down before you slipped on a lightweight robe and opened the door.

*****

He waited for her at their small kitchenette, their places set, food already plated. He admired her, how she was dressed in her robe but as his eyes moved to hers, he noticed those beautiful orbs that he loved waking up to each and every day were red and puffy, despite her shower. He watched as she moved her food around her plate, eyes cast downward at the yellow scrambled eggs, slightly runny just the way she liked them. He tried to clear his throat but it stung so he reached over the tiny table-top and touched her hand. When her eyes met his, he spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” The words died in his throat as his voice gave out and he gave an exasperated gesture mouth, a frustrated noise escaping from his nose. "It's okay," she replied, her own words catching in her throat. His chest heaved with a heavy breath and his hand flexed into a fist, redirecting his frustration to have more control of his feelings, a shake of his head. It wasn't okay. None of this was okay. 

She didn't speak, she just slowly popped a shoulder with a shrug and tilted her head to the right to meet it. He could tell she was grinding her teeth, that flex in her jaw evident. She cleared her throat and shook her head, "I can't eat right now." She scooted away from the table and took her plate with her, setting it in the fridge and escaping to their room. When that door shut, Diskant rubbed his hands over his face. Things weren't going to improve between them if he didn't try to get his words out but it was fucking near impossible. And God damn it he was downright exhausted at writing it all down. He had so much to say, so much he wanted to be able to tell her but he didn't want to waste the ink. He wanted his life back. The dishes were done before they'd sat down to eat, so, wanting to give himself time and continue to give Y/N her space, he slipped into the bathroom for his own shower.

Taking a moment to figure out what exactly he was doing, Paul sighed. Shower, then figure it out with Y/N. They needed to talk, properly, even if it made him hoarse. Three weeks of struggling to just.... live and move on were enough. He brought his eyes to the mirror as his stood with his palms flat against the basin, his scar peeking out the top collar of his white tee. 

He'd grown to looking in the mirror more often than when he'd first come home. His reflection made him feel somewhat of a beast, a man no longer what he once was but something of fright. The scar by no means was earth shatteringly grotesque, and Paul wasn't naturally a man of conceitedness, however, it was still a shock to see. 

Not for the first him he'd wondered how it looked to Y/N. It was hideous in his mind, and he was afraid she was grossed out because of it too. The bullet had pierced through one of the places on his body where he simply relished her touch. From the friendly and tender tickle on the couch as they watched TV to the desperate way she would cling to it as she lay under him, it was just something they had shared since the start and now he held a million worries. It might hurt, maybe her touch would have lost the ability to drag the reactions it normally did, that he would have lost that special place that she only she knew about and could use to make him melt.

He was scared of his own girl’s touch, and while it was an absolute ridiculous notion, it flat out petrified him. It petrified him for the very fact that he couldn't feel ANYTHING there. Not the water that touched it, the feel of his own fingers ghosting over it or the bite of a pinch he'd given himself just to test the nerves.

He felt nothing. 

He stared at his reflection, running a hand over the month long beard that had grown as of late. He wasn't supposed to shave, having been on blood thinners since his surgery, but those ran out a few days ago. Turning his head to the right, and then to the left, he sighed. Maybe he'd feel a bit better if he did…more like himself. 

With a sigh he pulled the trimmers from under the sink and plugged them into the outlet. Then he started filling the sink with lukewarm water, preparing a fresh razor for use. Stripping down to his boxer briefs, he took a good look at himself, eyes burning into the mirror as he took in his pale colour, his sad eyes, the dark circles under them, no doubt result of the nightmares waking both he and Y/N in the night, and then that ugly line. He sighed as his mind travelled back to their first night home from the hospital… He hadn’t meant to push everyone away but it was overwhelming. He just wanted her. His second chance at life was handed to him and all he wanted was her, time with her. Everyone and everything else could wait. He was a little unsteady on his feet, a weak wobble really that would surely pass the more he moved but he wasn't his entirely strong self either. He felt weak, looked pale and was sporting a near two week stubble that was itchy, but there was nothing he could do about it. More pressing than the ever increasing facial hair, however, was the fact he was craving a shower. Having suffered the indignity of nothing but sponge baths and body washes in the hospital, he simply wanted nothing more than to stand under the steam of their surprisingly powerful shower, in their little bathroom and clean himself off, wash away the clinical smell of the hospital that seemed to cling to his skin.

He turned the water on first, the sound of it spraying from the shower head a joyful sound. He knew he'd have to go slow, take it easy and be gentle on himself. Paul slipped his sweats down over his narrow hips, the material pooling at his feet and he kicked them away to the corner of the space. Then, with trembling fingers, he started on his button down, swallowing back a nervous knot painfully in his throat. 

By the time he was stripped down to his boxer briefs, there was a covering of steam on the mirror and he swiped at it with his hand. Then gently, ever so gently, he began to peel back the medical tape holding the gauze to his neck, knowing he’d have to replace the dressing once he’d showered. Not that it mattered, he’d been sent home with what felt like enough gauze, dressings and surgical tape to patch up a fucking army.

What he saw was not his own skin. Gone was his St. Christopher medallion on his favourite chain, one his parents had gotten him when he graduated from the Police Academy, and near where the chain would lay against his collarbone and neck was the repair hours of surgery and a week and a half in the hospital had caused him. Still, he was alive. When all was said and done, a chain could be replaced and his wound would heal.

With a final glance at his wound he carefully stepped into the hot water, and a soft moan escaped his mouth as he relished the way it felt on his skin, searing the back of his legs, his ass and lower back. He took a half step back and the water moved up to just under his shoulder blades. As the water beat down on him, he grabbed a bottle of his favoured shower gel and lathered a good amount all over himself, before rinsing and repeating the motion several times. Then, with a movement that was more reflex than conscious, he picked up Y/N's gel and turned the cap, taking a long inhale of the scent that comforted him. He felt his throat tighten and he started to panic, but quickly realized he was swallowing down a cry rather than there being a problem with his wound. He placed the gel back and turned his face into the stream of water, blinking fiercely as the tears welled and bled from his screwed up eyes, mingling with the steady droplets that hit his cheeks from the shower.

He leaned into the stream farther, allowing it to wash over his head, literally drowning out the sound of everything around him. His palms rested flat against the tile, a stretch and pull from his muscles that had atrophied during his stay. Awakening muscles and tendons that were mangled and manipulated to heal.

How long he was in there, he had no idea, but eventually, he felt the temperature starting to drop a little, signalling he'd been in there far longer than he'd intended. Reaching out, he turned the shower off and then stepped out, grabbing a towel which he ran over his head, almost snorting when he remembered his hair was no longer as short as it had been, realising that Y/N had never really seen him with hair as such before.

Because yeah, that’s what she was going to be looking at. His hair, not the huge three inch gash on his neck that made him look like some kind of fucking Frankenstein monster. 

With a roll of his eyes, Paul wrapped his lower half in a towel and opened the door to the bathroom, stepping across the hall. When he entered the bedroom, he found Y/N sitting in the edge of their bed, a familiar necklace in her hands like a rosary, her knees bouncing up and down. He noted how cautiously she lifted her eyes to look at his, and didn't miss the way they quickly flicked to his wound and back to his. He felt that painful lump in his throat for again. She rose to her feet and took a step toward him. 

“The chain, well... they had to cut it.” She said quietly, holding out her hand where the necklace sat. “So I got you a new one.” She held it out to him and he paused, his hand reaching towards the chain “The pendant was fine so...”

He reached out to take it, his fingers softly brushing her palm as he clasped the metal in his hands. He turned the small, silver disk over and gave her a small smile before he placed it on his nightstand.

“Do you want me to put it on?” She asked, moving to pick it up. “I can-"

With a movement that was a little harsher than he’d meant he reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it still a few inches away from the chain. She turned to look at him, a combination of shock and puzzlement on her face as he hastily shook his head.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Taking a deep breath, Paul ran his hand over his face and shook his head at her. “S’okay.” Were the only words he could manage to rasp out. His eyes bored into her as he desperately tried to make her understand he wasn’t angry at her.

"I'll uh... You start getting dressed and I'll grab the bag from the hospital."

“Bag?” He half spoke, half mouthed at her, his brow creasing in puzzlement. 

"The one with the bandages."

He shook his head, waving his hands. “I can-“ his voice broke and she smiled.

“Paul, it’s fine, let me...”

He once more shook his head. 

“Baby...”

At that his fist slammed on the nightstand and making her jump.

Her breath was shaky and her lip quivered, her eyes instantly watering. He knew for a fact he'd scared Y/N for he'd never reacted like that in any situation with her.

Backing away from him, she held her hands up defensively and shrugged, "Okay, I'll just go get it for you."

As he recalled the memory, his head hung in disgrace, much the same as it had that evening when she’d left the room, tears in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to push her away like he had, but since that first time he’d continued to do so. And the more he did, the harder it was to stop. And she took it, never biting back or losing her patience. She accepted the fact that he showed her less affection, took everything he threw at her and then some, because she loved him. And damned it, he loved her, he loved her so fucking much it truly, physically hurt. And the thought that he was hurting her because of his inability to sort the jumbled mess in his head was killing him.

Taking a deep breath, he set out on the task he'd started. A shave and a shower. The vibration of the trimmers hummed against his cheeks and neck, trimming away the longer hairs, creating a stubble he then fully removed with his cream and razor. Then, he showered, taking his time, losing himself in his thoughts and playing back the last month in his mind. It was no walk in the park and a frustration and anger bubbled just beneath the surface, it was like he'd recognized he wasn't the same. And was fighting a never ending battle with himself to pull out of the darkness that had overcome him so he could let her light shine in. Fuck it, he needed to do it. He needed to rip the proverbial fucking band aid off and own up to his shit. Because losing her, that was absolutely not an option. 

But how? Would she be willing? After all he'd put her through. He was still scared, and he knew his own limits were still there. But they had to start connecting or he was going to lose her. He felt it. 

Towelling off, he disposed of his laundry in the dirty hamper and wrapped his towel around him. He looked in the mirror and again wiped off the condensation. He nodded at his reflection. Now he looked like Diskant. HER Disco. He smiled a little to himself and left the bathroom, feeling a lot different than when he'd entered. 

When she wasn't in their room, he dressed in jeans and a tee, flip flops on his feet and headed down their small hall. He saw her tucked into the couch, a slouched long sleeve over her taught frame, denim shorts on those hips and legs that made his mouth dry. He could see the smoothness of them and his fingers tingle to touch them. Deep red painted toes balanced on the edge of the coffee table as she read the book she'd started recently. 

He sat down next to her, garnering her attention. She looked at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. Those eyes that make him weak. Make him purr and melt and feel like he can conquer the world all at once. Those eyes that make him feel like a man above himself. 

At the risk of losing his voice entirely, he began with, "I feel cooped up and it's driving me crazy. Can we go somewhere?" 

A smile so genuine spread across her lips that it twisted his gut and sped up his heart. "Yeah, okay. Any idea where?" 

He shook his head, "I just want to go. I want us to get out of here." He made sure emphasize the us in that reply, even if it didn't sound as so. 

"Okay, let's go," she tossed her book on the coffee table and stood, grabbing her bag by the door and slipping into flip flops of her own.

****

You humoured his request, just to go for a drive. And you drove for hours, all over the place. But little did you realize where you'd end up eventually.

It was late in the day and the parking lot was emptying out. You'd pulled into a spot and turned to him, the Ferris wheel and various stands along the pier behind you. His eyes were covered by his own Wayfarers but his smile was soft and sweet.

"I'm kinda hungry, are you hungry?" You said to him, a humorous tone to your voice. Your words echoing ones he'd spoken to you so long ago, words that had become an inside joke between you. 

He chuckled lightly, softly and replied with a nod as the two of you exited the car. You waited for him to meet you on your side. The second he joined you, he took your hand in his and together you walked the bike path until the steps up to the pier were accessible.

He stood at the railing, about halfway down, as you ordered two beers, two hot dogs and fries to share. The sun was just at the horizon, painting the sky in watercolour sherbet, and Paul's silhouette stood out against it. He saw you approach and grabbed his dog and beer from you, lightening your load. The two of you shacked up at a table near the games, almost the same table the two of you sat at on your first date.

“You know, I was suckered into a first date here? Guy was a total swindler, stalker too."

He swallowed his bite of food and washed it down with beer before he smiled and rasply said, "you were willing to go with me. I didn't sucker you."

“You totally trapped me.”

"You needed help, I offered," he pointed to himself, then to you and smiled, "willing participant."

"However you spin it so you can sleep at night," you sighed. "I'm just glad I fell for it."

Paul nodded, "me too." He perched his sunglasses on top of his head. "I love you, so much." He took your beer from your hand and set it on the table top, whilst pulling both of your hands into his. 

You couldn't hide the obvious hitch in your chest at the outward affection. The lump in your throat hurt to swallow as your eyes welled up. "I know, I love you, too. More than anything." You fought the emotion in your words, the way they were starting to make your voice quiver.

He sighed at your emotion and shook a deep breath. “This isn't easy." He stalled, allowing his voice rest a second in order to keep trying to get his words out. "I'm not easy." He paused again. "I’m sorry.”

"It's okay," you shook your head.

"It's not." His voice was starting to give way again and you saw the frustration on his face.

“Hey...” you squeezed his hand, “I’d rather you did take it out in me than bottle it all up. I don’t like it when you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.” It broke you to watch him struggle, each and every day it broke you. And you were at the end of your rope, frayed and tired of keeping it together. You sighed. “Just take your time. I’m not going anywhere. Text me for Christ's sake!”

He chortled a bit and shook his head, "it's not the same." He brought your hands to his lips and you closed your eyes at the feeling it gave you.

You shook your head, if he wasn't going to make the first move then you needed to try. "Do you trust me?"

He frowned and nodded. “Always.”

Without words, you leaned forward, scooting yourself onto the edge of his seat bench and leaned the forearm to your left arm against his right shoulder. Your fingers scratching behind his ear. Gently you brought your right hand up his chest, slowly, delicately, over his shoulder and he flinched away from you. "Paul, please," you whispered. You could see the way his body started to shake, his breathing laboured. "It's just me, baby."

The closer your fingers got, the more his hands twitched to pull you away. You didn't know for certain what was going on on the inside, but you had a pretty good idea. On the outside, his eyes shone back at you with fear as he tried to just breathe. Then your fingertips brushed the raised pink skin that just peeked over the edge of his tee…

The pads of her fingers felt like red, hot needles the way his skin was reacting. But that was nothing compared to what was firing in his brain.

He clenched his teeth together, tried to keep his breathing calm and regular as those gentle fingers that could make him purr and sing moved delicately over the raised edges of his scar, her eyes never once leaving his. Quickly, the feeling of red hot needles dissipated and he felt nothing but a relief that washed over him from his scar to his toes. He could just feel her and that was monumental. 

A deep, shaky breath rumbled his chest as he painfully swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing it all twitched under her touch. It felt the same. Nothing had changed, that familiar tingle he usually felt at her touch sparked something deep inside. The involuntary little shudder he always emitted when she hit that little sweet spot, shot up and down his spine and he felt his lips curl up on a smile as his girl beamed at him. 

“See.” She whispered.

“How...” his voice croaked and the words died as he took a deep breath, giving himself a moment. “How did you know that was...” another pause before he shook his head, gesturing to his mouth.

“Because, Paul Christopher Diskant, I know you inside out.” She delicately touched him still, her nails just at that spot that made him quiver. "This doesn't change anything. Not now, not ever."

He let out a strained sob, pulling her close, his lips harshly on hers.

“Tell me about it, Stud.” She smiled against his lips. 

"Let's go home," he managed before his voice cut out again.

“Is that an order or a request?” She teased.

He grinned and popped a shoulder in response. 

The drive from Santa Monica to home was the most comfortable you'd been in weeks, and you could tell Paul was too. As you drove, he couldn't stop smiling, like this weight had been lifted and the fog between you cleared. His eyes didn't leave your profile, his fingers entwined between yours, never letting go.

****

His hand never left yours as you walked the short path from the garage to your little one bedroom shack, even single-handed unlocking and opening the door. You couldn't even step through the threshold before his lips were on yours, soft and slow, gentle, his tongue gliding through the opening you gave him. A kiss so deep you were sure the two of you were ethereally floating. You tossed your bag on the couch as you passed it by, toeing off your sandals as Paul gently tugged on your hand, an instruction to follow him.

Down the narrow hall you went, directly to your bedroom tucked off in the right corner at the end of it. Again, his lips are on yours and if you didn't know any better, you'd detected a slight tremble in his touch as his hands came to hold your face close to his. Your hands rested against his chest as he kissed you breathless. There was no rush or desperation behind his kiss, if anything a wanton need crept through the both of you but you weren't going to push him, no. You knew Paul needed to set the pace, for whilst you could read him like a book, this terrain was new and navigating his new emotions and fears needed to be on his time and terms.

You were just happy he was touching you again, allowing you to touch him. You missed him, missed the way the two of you were. This had by far been the longest the two of you had been intimately separated since your beginning. 

His hands left your cheeks and gently gripped at the bottom of your top. You stepped back a little, raising your arms so he could pull it straight over your head. You watched his eyes soften as he looked at you, almost like he was seeing you for the first time again. You reached for the hem of his own shirt, but he took a half step back, freezing you.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, “if you’re not ready, leave it on or... it can wait, we can wait.”

He swallowed hard and quickly his hand gripped the back of his collar, pulling the tee over his head. You took care to keep your eyes locked on his, knowing exactly what was making him nervous- his scars. As his eyes searched yours, your face broke into a smile and then he was back on you, his hands on your hips, pulling you close as his mouth claimed yours. His hands felt warm on your skin as they travelled up your sides, only letting go to move to your jaw and neck. His thumbs across your cheek, his fingers splayed around your neck and into your hair. 

He kissed you with all tongue, his lips massaging against yours as he changed the position of his head, tilting it the opposite way. And for a moment he pulled away, his hands still on you, the burn of his eyes lustfully blown as they bore into yours. Then, he moved in on you again, his nose bumping against yours as his thick, flat tongue filled your mouth fully, yours submitting against it, allowing him to devour you. It was as if he was opening up your soul, tasting feeling and seeing every colour of the rainbow. You felt as if your body was going to explode with the feeling sheer desire and love flooding hours state, but above it all, happiness that he was kissing you like this again. 

It left you breathless and wanting more. You actively fought the urge to rip his belt buckle open and shove his jeans down, trying hard to leave him to set the pace. But, as always, he could read you like the pages of a well-worn novel and that maddeningly smug, cheeky school-boy grin crossed his face. It twisted your insides and made your skin tingle.

His fingers wound through your hair as he backed you towards the mattress. As the crook of your knees hit the side of the bed, he kissed you again, his fingers moving to the button of your denim shorts. Your mind was excited, your body fully responding to his touch, his movements. You’d missed this. His fingertips touched your tummy and you shivered, the denim quickly falling away as you fell onto the mattress.

You watched as he undid his button and flies, the zipper echoing in the stillness of your room, bouncing off the exposed brick and vibrating in your ears. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his denims, strong thighs, arms and taught abs flexing as he crawled over you, his hands planting either side of your head. The muscles of his shoulders twitched as he lowered himself over you, his lips claiming yours in a slow dance, his tongue leisurely tangling with yours, a soft sigh escaping him.

You continued to resist the urge to touch him where you have always shown him you're there with him, that part of him that makes him sing and shiver. That spot that only you know of that makes him melt against you, submit to his lust and desires for you. Instead, as his tongue felt every part of yours, his hands caging himself over you, you tilted your hips, your hands grazing the underside of his biceps, curling around the raised skin of his tattoos. At the feel of your pelvis bumping his, he gave a little grunt, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing to yours as he returned the gesture, his own grinding into yours, the hardness of his arousal unmistakable through his boxer briefs as it brushed against the thin cotton and lace of your panties.  His words hit your ears, "need you, Sugar, so bad." You practically purred as you heard your nickname clearly and for the first time in weeks, not strangled by pain, or muted by frustration. His voice was his own once again and it caused a sting in your eyes. Your hands moved along his torso, from his ribs down to his hips, the waistband of his boxers bent by your fingertips. All whilst his lips moved over your jaw, behind your ear where you gasped before he moved down your neck, nestling soft kisses against the tops of your breasts. “You got me, Stud. Always.” At that, he crashed his lips to yours in an attempt to hide the sob you could faintly feel against your own lips.

Your hands gently cupped his jaw, holding his face to yours as the kiss grew desperate, his hips rolling into yours again. Suddenly, he moved back, kneeling between your legs as his hands hooked into the waistband of your panties. “Off.” His voice was raspy once more as he issued the instruction, yet the undercurrent of desire was unmistakable. Obliging to his instruction, you raised your hips off the bed and allowed him to pull them down, his body shuffling along the bed as he glided the garment down over your legs. His heavy hands caressed up your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles over your skin. God, did your skin burn in delight at his touch, you had to wonder and think if he felt the same. There was no denying he did, or you wouldn't be here, you'd still be at the pier, figuring out how to navigate his feelings, his fears. His body led over you, your sex and his barely touching, but yet twitching and pulsing with deep desires of need. His hand pulled down the cup of your bra, his mouth taking gentle nips against your breast as his mouth moved to your nipple, where he gently rolled it between his lips before his tongue swirled the sensitive nub. Your back arched in pleasure, one hand twisting in his hair, the other fisting in the sheets besides you. His free hand slipping behind your back to expertly unclasp your bra, allowing it to loosen around your arms.  "Paul...." you moaned. His free hand reached for yours that was fisted in the sheets, pulling your fingers apart and taking your palm against his, entwining your fingers. You were more than ready for him. Like he needed you, you just needed him too. It took one rock, one hip thrust and he slid right inside. "Oh fuck," you both let out, his a good rasp and yours a whimper. It felt so good, beyond good, the way he filled you, stretched you. You wasted no time in flicking your hips up towards his as he thrust down. Your insides fluttered as you joined together each time. God, did it feel... so... fucking... good. Again and again he rocked into you, his movements needy but not harsh, as a desperate need filled you both. You lightly nudged him with a knee and together you rolled, him to his back and you over his hips, still with him settled inside you. Tossing your bra to the floor with the rest of your clothes, you rocked against him whilst he reached up and held your bouncing breasts in his hands, a gentle tweak of each nipple. The sensation sent ripples to your middle, warmth pooling at your core and you gave a soft moan of delight before you bent forward, your lips on his. The kiss was sloppy, his hips still rocking up into you as your pelvis rolled against his. You were close, you knew he could feel you twitching around him. Your lips were covering his as you slowly bounced and rocked on top of him, a pressure to your clit that was blissfully crippling.

In a sudden exertion of strength, Paul sat up and his arms wrapped around your back, holding you close to his chest, his lips moving over your collar bone and down your sternum. He was as deep inside you as he could go, bottoming out as the angle changed and he was clearly hitting a new spot that erupted your insides like a volcano. Your body shook as your orgasm boiled at its peak, with each jut of his hips against you. With one hand around you, the other moving hair away from your eyes and keeping it back by his fingers, his nose rubbed against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he brought your lips to his. You were going to come and it was going to be absolutely amazing. Deepening your kiss, your fingers scratched at the back of his neck, just at the nape of his hairline and you started to feel him quiver. There he was, right there, like always. Your lips broke free from his and nipped at his strong jaw before kissing at the joint where it met his ear. You were careful now, despite the throws of your own orgasm starting to crash around you, to weigh your moves with precise care as you gently, delicately kissed down his neck. Your lips hit that pinkish-red raised mark and your world exploded. The blood surged to your ears, deafening you as you came, hard. Your eyes fluttered closed but the noise he made broke through clear as day, and they flew open again. Those beautiful blues were locked into your gaze as his broken whimper of your name blew into a loud groan as he clung to you, his hips stilling, his eyes fluttering shut. His noise died down, catching in his throat, his chest heaving as you felt him twitch inside of you, the after-throws of both your orgasms pulsing together. Tenderly, your hands slid up to cup his face as you kissed him softly, feeling him sag a little, and you gently pushed on his chest. You didn’t want him to release his hold but you knew he was going to be exhausted. He didn’t take much persuasion, his body boneless as he sank onto the soft mattress behind him. You went with him, your head tucking under his chin as the pair of you recovered, the only sound in the room the dying pants as you both eagerly drew breath.

His hand slipped into your hair, cradling the back of your head as you shifted and pressed your lips to his jaw.

“You okay?” You asked. 

He nodded, swallowing hard as his other arm ran up and down your spine, fingers gently tracing a path along your still touch sensitive body. His lips pressed to the crown of your head. 

When you'd regained the feeling of life back into to your body, you sat up, rolling off of Paul's hips, garnering a look of confusion from him. He loved when you would keep him inside you, and continue to feel the warmth of one another's bodies. You smiled softly at him, sleepily. You saw the look on his face, the look of contentment but of need and seeking comfort. It was a look you'd come to memorize as his 'I'm tired' look. Soft features, heavy eyes. Blissed out from love making or not, Paul was exhausted and you read every hint of it you memorized over the years. 

"C'mere," you now rasped, your voice rattled by emotion and dry from moaning. 

His lazy smirk crossed his lips and he knew that tone. He knew what was coming next. He rolled to his left and pressed his lips to yours gently before laying his head on your chest. You traced your first two fingers gently up and down his neck, along his shoulder and back up, a repeated pattern you only you had the map to. 

A combination of a contented sigh with a little hum left his throat as his weight over you grew heavier, like the comfort of a weighted blanket. You blinked back the tears, because although you'd heard it time and time again, right then, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever made. 

**** Part 5

[shy-peacock]

Hi! I'm a big fan of your works! I'd like to present you a prompt idea😘 : Either of them is completely oblivious that it's their anniversary, and the other drops several hints for all day.

I sorta already did this prompt with them both forgetting their anniversary! But I'll do another short one for fun ;)

Rated G-ish

Raya had absolutely no clue what she had done to deserve this. All of the gifts being sent her way from flowers to sweet fruit and candies, an oversized bear that the dogs claimed as their community bed already. Letters of love and adoration and, when she did come home, it was to a spotless house and a meal that would be at the table shortly. Her wife sitting there looking way too sexy in an elegant dress, especially as she met her halfway to the kitchen, giving her a long kiss that Raya wasn’t quite sure how her dark lipstick stayed in place.

“What’s the occasion?” Raya laughed, sitting down at the table.

Before Namaari could say a word, Chau walked up with his fanciest clothes and an impromptu mustache drawn on his lips.

“Hello Madams-” he said in a very…odd..accent, “here are your menus!”

He handed them each a piece of paper that had one word written down on it.

Spaghetti.

“Hard to choose.” Raya joked, “the selection is just..immense..”

“Might I suggest…the pot pie?” he offered before dramatically tsking, “ooh..my apologies, we just ran out-!”

“They both really wanted to be a part of this.” Namaari mentioned, waving at their son and his getup, “clearly.”

“Spaghetti sounds good-” Raya stated.

“Impeccable choice, my lady-!” he announced, “now, for the wine selection-”

“Chau, you know we don’t have wine in the house-”

“Water it is!” he cheered, running then towards their laundry room or, as they call it, their makeshift kitchen. Chau’s voice echoing into the room where Linh was clearly at, yelling out orders for her to cook.

“Okay, but seriously…what’s the occasion?” Raya asked, still confused and now a little guilty as Namaari couldn’t hide the disappointment in her eyes.

“It’s our anniversary!” she said, nonchalantly, “remember last year we forgot it, so I wanted to make sure we-”

Raya placed her hand on her wife’s, stopping her immediately mid-sentence.

“Honey…it’s next week.”

“What’s next week?”

“Our anniversary-”

“No…No, I checked it!”

“Maari, check again-...”

Namaari pulled out her personal calendar on her phone, scrolling through her calendar until she stopped. Face first going pale and then bright red, still Raya couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, this is still great!” Raya said, trying to soothe her as she ran a thumb across her hand, “it’s still super sweet of you..and of course, I love you for trying to get the date right.”

Namaari gave her a small smile, still clearly embarrassed. So Raya got up and went to her, sitting in her lap so she could kiss her again. Her wife’s arms wrapping around her torso to keep her from falling.

“Besides..you got yourself all wrapped up nicely for me..I don’t intend to let it go to waste.” she husked, making her intentions clear by her tone alone. Practically feeling Namaari shiver beneath her at the promise, eager for that evening already.

“Order up!” Chau and Linh called and the two each brought a plate of spaghetti to their table.

Or..what should have been spaghetti. Looking more like undercooked noodles and what was possibly ketchup. The two ran back to the kitchen while the parents looked down at the disastrous meal. Namaari gave Raya a soothing pat on her leg.

“We-..actually have delivery coming..but I didn’t want to squash their spirits…” Namaari mentioned, “I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Oh thank God..” Raya sighed, relieved.

[elianamarie-blog]

The Things You Give Pt 18

Steven Hyde x Reader

A/N: The part is finally here! THE PARENTS FIND OUT. I hope you enjoy this part! Geez, I can’t believe we’re already 18 parts in! And I’m not even done lol with all this information I want to put in the story, there maybe a bit more. Let me know what you all think! By the way, CONGRATULATIONS TO WILMER VALDERAMA FOR THR BIRTH OF HIS DAUGHTER! What a beautiful baby!!

Kitty sat there, staring at her daughter with an unreadable expression. Was she angry? Disappointed? Murderous? Y/n couldn’t bear to make eye contact with her, so she kept her gaze down.

“So,” Kitty said, clearing her throat. “Pregnant, huh?”

Y/n nodded, flitting her eyes to Kitty who was calmly messing with her ring.

“How far along are you?”

“Bout a month.”

“And does Steven know?”

“Yes, he—wait, what?” This time Y/n snapped her gaze to Kitty who was staring at her down with a stoic expression.

“I said does Steven know?” Kitty repeated and placed her fist underneath her chin. “Does he know that he is the father?”

All Y/n could do was stare at her mother in disbelief as her brain suddenly stopped working. The gears in her head froze as she felt her hands go numb. “What—how—uh, when did you—why would you—wait, what? Steven’s not the father.”

“Oh, no need to get all fussy and lie to me,” Kitty said and chuckled and got up to start a pot of tea. “I’ve known for weeks.”

“You what?” Y/n asked in complete disbelief. “How did you find out?!”

“Oh, please, I’m not stupid. You kids are terrible at keeping secrets.” She grabbed two mugs and placed two teabags in them, then reached up to get the honey. “It’s obvious that you two have gotten much closer in the recent months and besides—I’ve seen you two lay a smooch on each other in a time or two.”

“Oh, God,” Y/n mumbled, covering her hot and flushed face. “Well, if you knew, why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Because I wanted you to come to me yourself,” Kitty answered as if it was obvious and poured the hot water into the mugs. “You’re eighteen now. You make that decision to date whoever you want.”

Kitty set the mugs down on the table in front of them.

“If that’s true then why were you telling me that I shouldn’t and can’t date him?”

“Because of your father,” she responded and took a sip of her tea. “You know how he is.”

“Oh, God, does he know?”

“Oh, heavens no,” Kitty responded and waved her hand. “If he does, he’s in denial.”

“He’s going to kill us,” Y/n groaned and covered her eyes with her hand that wasn’t holding the mug.

“Well, we need to find a way to ease into it,” Kitty said. “The last thing we want is to give him another heart attack. Because let’s be honest, this one will kill him.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“Well, we could liquor him up,” she responded. “That way, he’ll be mad, but not enough to kill him.”

“Wow, Mom. It sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“Eh, maybe once or twice,” Kitty said, waving her hand and took a sip of her tea.

They sat in silence for a moment. “Are you mad?”

Kitty inhaled deeply and looked at Y/n. “A little. More so that you didn’t tell me and lied to me. Multiple times.”

Y/n looked down at her tea in shame. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Do you and Steven even have a plan?”

Y/n nodded, debating on telling her about the engagement. Like a band-aid. “Yes. He’s going to go work with his dad in Milwaukee and I’m going to go back to school while looking for an apartment. And, uh,” she took a deep breath, her voice wavering. Get ready to see some chairs fly. “We’re….going to get…married.”

Kitty sat there in stunned silence, blinking at Y/n. The growing silence between them made Y/n more nervous as she was receiving daggers from her mother’s blazed eyes.

“Yep,” Y/n said shortly after a minute of no talking. “A grandchild and a son-in-law. Big day for you.”

“You’re WHAT!” Kitty shouted, shooting up from her seat.

Y/n jumped up and held her hands out at her menopausal mother. “I’m sorry! We just thought that it would be better for you and Daddy because I’m sure you guys don’t want a screaming baby around and we—”

“You’re going to leave me?!”

Y/n knitted her eyebrows together and brought her hands down. “What?”

“My baby is having a baby and getting married and you’re going to leave me?!”

“Uh, okay, I’m sorry, but I’m really confused,” Y/n said calmly and stood up straight. “I thought you’d want me and Steven to move out.”

“Well, not right now!” she yelled. “I’ve always wanted to plan my children’s wedding. When I saw what path Laurie was going down, I thought to hell with that I’m never going to plan her wedding, and Eric…well you know what happened! But now you’re getting married and I need to plan yours! Sure, I still want to put my foot up your ass, but I need to do this!”

Y/n stood there in confusion and shock. Well, this went better than expected. “Really, Mom? You’re sure?”

“Yes, you dumbass!” Kitty shouted and wrapped her arms around Y/n’s shoulders.

“Wow, uhm, you’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would,” Y/n said, wrapping hesitant arounds around her petite mother.

“Don’t be so sure,” she replied. “I’m still angry that you lied to me and didn’t tell me and for Steven going behind our backs instead of just coming to us, but we will talk later. For now, we need to focus on telling your father so that we can start planning and getting ready for everything.”

“When should we tell him?”

“Well, tomorrow night I’ll be throwing a small dinner party for couples. So, you, Steven, and Donna and Eric will be there. And Bob is coming with a date.”

“You really think telling Dad while we’re having a party, which he hates, is a good idea? He’s not afraid to have witnesses while he murders me, you know that right?”

“Oh, honey, don’t be so dramatic. That’s where we’re going to get him liquored up,” Kitty laughed and sat back down, leaving Y/n utterly confused still.

                                                  --Time Skip—

     “So, she knew this whole time?” Steven asked later that night, as they laid in his bed, their naked bodies covered by the blanket.

“Yep. Apparently, we weren’t being as secretive as we should’ve been,” Y/n commented.

“And she took the news well?” He felt genuinely confused. “So, I’m not getting…kicked out?”

“No, but she definitely wants to put her foot up our asses.”

He raised his eyebrows. “She said that?”

“Word for word.”

Steven threw his head back laughing. “Man, I wish I would’ve heard that.”

“Yeah, but here’s the kicker. I think she was madder that I told her that we would be moving out.”

He stopped laughing and looked at her confused. “How?”

She shrugged. “Beats me. She said something about how she’s never going to be able to plan Laurie’s wedding because she’s, well, Laurie, so she really wants to plan ours.”

Hyde chuckled. “That’s funny.”

Y/n lifted the corner of her mouth. “Which part?”

“Well both. She just called Laurie a whore and that she thinks we will have a real wedding.”

Y/n sat up and looked at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, obviously Laurie gets around quite a bit—”

“No, no, not that,” she said. “About the wedding.”

“Oh, well,” Hyde said and sat up too. “You didn’t think we were going to have a real wedding, did you?”

“Uh, yeah I did,” she replied. “That’s why I said wedding. It’s not like I’m saying let’s have a big one or anything, but something. What were you thinking?”

“Well, just, uh,” he said nervously. “Just city hall and then maybe have a dinner.”

“That’s it?” she asked. “That’s how you want to spend our big day?”

“Well, to be fair we have an even bigger one coming,” he responded, motioning towards her stomach.

“Okay, yes, we’re having a baby but also us getting married is also pretty big.”

“ Y/n, what is the big deal? We’re going to be spending a lot of time and money for what? A few hours of partying?”

“A few hours of partying? Are you kidding me?”

“What? It’s true.”

“A wedding is the unification of us becoming one and celebrating our love! To promise one another that we will always be there and love each other. Doesn’t that mean something to you?” She got out of the bed and started putting her clothes back on.

“Why do we need to promise each other in front of people when it’s our marriage? I’m promising you, not them.”

“It’s still a celebration, Steven.”

“Yeah, maybe back in the olden times when marriage was used as transactions and not for anything more. I mean, come on, be happy that I’m even marrying you!” He started to put his pants back on when he noticed the shift in the room.

“What?” Y/n asked sharply.

Hyde’s eyes grew a fraction bigger. “No, no! That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just meant that before I probably wouldn’t have even considered marriage even if I did get you pregnant.” He mentally cringed, knowing he just made the situation worse.

“Wow,” was all she said before she walked out the room.

“No, wait Y/n!” he stumbled as he fumbled to put his pants back on. “I didn’t mean it that way!”

“Just leave me alone, Steven!” she shrieked as she stomped up the stairs.

He groaned. “Great.”

                                               --Time Skip—

           “Y/n, honey can you go to the store for me and pick some things up for the party tonight?” Kitty asked while she gave Y/n her breakfast plate.

“We’re having a party?” Eric asked. Everyone, excluding Red was there. Fez and Jackie sat at the counter, Kelso and Donna at the table.

“Yes, we are. All couples are invited.”

“Wait, why wasn’t I invited? Kelso asked.

“Well, honey, you need a date,” Kitty said. “Do you have a date?”

“Yeah, Brooke.

“That would be great! Then I can ask her questions about when she was pregnant,” Y/n said.

“Ohhh, honey, let’s not say that out loud,” Kitty replied, patting Y/n’s shoulder. “Your father could walk in any minute.”

“Guess I can come now,” Kelso beamed.

“Yeah, I guess you can,” Kitty said and sat down next to Y/n.

“Can I come too Miss Kitty?” Fez asked. “If I bring a date that is.”

“Of course, dear,” Kitty beamed and clapped excitedly. “I’m so excited!”

“Uh,” Hyde said and raised his hand. “Do I have to come?”

“Yes,” Kitty and Y/n said in unison sternly.

“And wear a tie,” Y/n said.

“I don’t want to,” he responded stubbornly.

“Well, you’re gonna,” she snapped.

He looked at Kitty and Y/n and slumped his shoulders. “Fine. But, Mrs. Forman, can I speak to you privately in the living room, please?”

“For what?”

“I just need to speak to you.”

She looked to Y/n who shrugged her shoulders. Kitty and Steven stood up and made their way into the living room.

“What do you want to talk about, Steven?” Kitty asked him and clasped her hands together in front of her.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” he began and scratched his neck. “I’m not very good at apologizing and stuff, but I’ve always looked at you as a mom, especially because you took me in and took care of me as if I was your own and I owe you an apology. I understand if you’re angry with me and you have every right to be. I disrespected you and Red by going behind your back with Y/n and lying to you and I deeply regret that, but I need you to know that I don’t regret Y/n. I truly do care about her and…I do love her. I know this was probably a shock for you, but I promise to do whatever I can to take care of her. I’m not sure if Y/n told you, but I took a job with my dad at his company.

“I just want you to know that even though you may not think I’m the right person for your daughter, I promise you I am. I know I’m not perfect, but I think I’m good enough for her and she’s definitely more than enough for me.”

Kitty looked at her foster son with blurry eyes. “Oh, Steven,” she whimpered and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He gratefully accepted her embrace. “You’re such a good boy. Thank you. I love you so much.” She pulled away and looked at him. “Yes, I am a little angry about the situation and trust me, we will be having a talk later, but please don’t worry about me. It’s Red we need to worry about.”

“I’ll have to run before he can put his foot in my ass,” he replied.

“Oh, I won’t let that happen,” she said and patted his arm.

“Thank you, Mrs. Forman.”

She smiled at him before they went back into the kitchen.

                                   --Time Skip—

           “For the last time, I told you I don’t want a freakin’ wedding!” Steven raised his voice at Y/n.

“Well, I do, dammit!” Y/n shouted back.

“What’s the point? We can still celebrate with everyone after we sign the piece of paper!”

“I’m not asking for anything big here, Steven!” she growled. “I’m asking for a simple wedding. Why is that so much to ask?”

“Because it cost a lot!”

“Alright let the moth out of your wallet you cheap ass,” Y/n snapped. “We’re going to be spending more on this baby and any other future children we may have than a wedding. The wedding doesn’t even have to be big! It could just be all of us and my grandparents. Why are you being so difficult about this?”

“Because I don’t want a wedding!”

“Uhm,” Eric called out awkwardly from the couch. “Some of us are trying to watch TV here. Care to take it outside?”

“No!” the couple said in unison.

“Y/n listen to me,” Jackie said and stood up. “Getting Steven to even marry anybody is a miracle. Take it from me.”

“Yeah, he told me that last night,” Y/n spit.

“You said that to her? BURN!” Kelso shouted, but then instantly cowered when Y/n and Hyde threw daggers at him.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned back to Steven. “I want us to have pictures to remember this day. So, we’ll need a photographer.”

“If you need a photographer to remember something like this, then we have bigger problems,” Hyde deadpanned.

Y/n groaned in frustration. “God, you’re impossible! Come on, just something from you.”

Hyde shook his head. “No. And that’s final.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “But you get to tell my mom why she won’t plan our wedding.” She flipped her hair and sat down on the couch, crossing her arms. “And by the way, you’re going to be the one to deal with her wrath. Not me.”

Steven titled his back and looked up at the ceiling, groaning. “Fine! We’ll have a wedding, but it won’t be big. Just us, no extra relatives, we’ll have it in the backyard, beer, and spaghetti, and a small cake. No dressing up, nothing.”

“Or,” Y/n said coyly and sauntered back up to him. “It’s just us and my grandparents, somewhere outdoors with Pastor Dave, a decent sized cake, some dressing up, and 1 main plate of food with 2 sides. Beer and champagne.”

He looked down at her, trying so hard to be mad, but her puppy dog eyes made him melt. “Fine.”

She smiled widely for him. “Okay!” She gave him a quick peck and sat back down on the couch.

“Aweeee,” the gang cooed.

“Shut it!” Hyde barked.

“Who’s going to be your maid of honor?” Jackie pushed. “I’m not saying it should be me, but it should be me.”

“Yeah, and who is going to be your best man?” Kelso asked and pointed at himself. “Me,” he whispered.

“Hang on, guys,” Donna said. “Let’s not put too much pressure on them. It’s their wedding. Let them decide who.”

Y/n gave her an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Donna.”

“Oh, she’s just sucking up to you so you’d pick her!” Jackie cried out. “ Y/n, if you pick me, I’m rich, so I can give you the bachelorette party of your dreams. I can help with the wedding too.”

Y/n puckered her lips and looked up, thinking. “That does sound nice.”

“What, no! That’s crap,” Donna exclaimed. “I’ve been there for her this whole time, I think I deserve to be maid of honor.”

“Oh, what have you brought to the table, Big Foot?” Jackie spit.

“Listen, here Midget, I was the first person who knew about her and Hyde, the first to know about the pregnancy, AND kept it a secret until she was ready to tell the others. She trusts me more. Being rich doesn’t make you a better friend than me.”

Jackie gasped theatrically. “You take that back!”

Donna smirked at her. “No.”

“Bitch!”

“Skank!”

“GIRL FIGHT!” Kelso hollered. “Eric, quick, get a pool of mud and we can watch them fight for honor.”

“Alright, alright, alright, stop. Both of you,” Y/n cut in, trying to prevent them from ripping at each other. “I still have Laurie to think about.”

Donna and Jackie scoffed and rolled their eyes at her.

“You really want the queen of whores to be your maid of honor?” Hyde asked her.

Y/n thought about it for a minute. “No, not really. But she’s still an option.”

“Okay, well, while you ladies figure out your issue, we have a bigger one at hand,” Fez said and down on the coffee, facing Hyde who was now sitting in his chair. “Who’s going to be the best man? Me.”

“Nuh uh, I wanna be!” Kelso argued.

“Hey, if anybody deserves to be best man, it should be me,” Eric piped up. “I think it’s already a given why I deserve this role.”

“Why you deserve it?” Hyde repeated. “This isn’t a play, man.”

“Come on, man. I made you the godfather of my daughter,” Kelso said, giving him the puppy eyes.

“Or, how about the one who’s related to the bride? And who gave him a home when he became an orphan?” Eric said.

“Don’t pull that crap on me, Forman,” Hyde said, making a face at him. “You also forget how you reacted and tried to kick me out.”

“I was just preparing you for what’s going to happen with Red,” Eric defended, albeit rather weakly.

“Well, we got to figure something out,” Jackie said and stood, adjusting her shirt. “Why don’t we pull straws?”

“Or how bout we race?” Fez said. “I can outrun all of you sons of bitches.” He beamed with pride.

“No, we’re not going to do any of that,” Y/n said. “Let me and Steven decide, okay?”

“Good ‘cause I’m not running,” Jackie said. “Jackie Burkhart doesn’t sweat.”

“Or how ‘bout we go with the two most good looking people in this room?” Kelso suggested. “So, me and Jackie.”

Jackie nodded. “I second that!”

“NO,” Hyde and Y/n said in unison.

Kelso and Jackie huffed and sat down on the couch and chair, pouting.

“Please, guys, let us get through tonight and then we’ll decide,” Y/n begged. “Right now we just want to get through the night alive. My dad is going to tear us to shreds.”

“Oh, why wouldn’t he?” Eric asked sarcastically. “Not only are you secretly dating the orphan boy living in his house, you’re having his baby and getting married.”

“Actually, it wasn’t so secretive,” Y/n mentioned. “Mom’s known for weeks.”

“What? How?!” Eric asked.

“I don’t know, but she’s not as naïve as I thought.”

“Oh, crap,” Eric said wide eyed. “That means she probably found my magazines!”

“What magazines?” Donna asked.

“Uh,” Eric stuttered while Y/n smirked at her dumbass twin. “S-some good ol’ fashioned…classy magazines.”

“Nice,” Y/n said, thoroughly amused.

“Uh huh, sure,” Donna said, but let it go.

“So, are you guys nervous about telling Mr. Red?” Fez asked.

“Oh, I’m just short of completely and utterly terrified,” Y/n responded.

“Yeah, what she said,” Hyde responded and gestured for Y/n to sit in his lap. “But, this is something we have to do. We messed up and now we have to make up for it.”

“Or make a run for it,” Fez said, giggling. “See what I did there?”

Y/n chuckled lightly, loving his sweet and innocent sense of humor. “You’re not wrong. My dad is a very scary man.”

“But you’re his little girl. I don’t think he’s going murder you,” Eric said. “It’s clear that you’re the favorite.”

“Even if that were true, you know who is the one who’s going to get murdered,” Jackie said and pointed at Steven. “You. You better get your running shoes on now.”

“Ha ha very funny. Listen, I think once he calms down and realizes that being blinded by rage isn’t going to change anything, he’ll come around,” Steven said.

Everyone looked at him as if he had grown a third head.

“Are you just now meeting my dad?” Eric asked.

“All I’m saying is that there isn’t much he can do at this point,” Hyde defended. “Mrs. Forman will be there.”

“Yeah, to tell you to run,” Eric said.

“He’s right, though,” Donna said. “Besides getting scary and pink, nothing’s going to change.”

“What do you expect him to do though?” Eric asked. “Sit there and tell you congratulations?”

Y/n shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Yeah,” her twin scoffed. “After he cheers and tosses his poms poms into the air.”

The group fell silent as the image of Red fell into their heads.

“You’re pregnant?” Red asked as the teens started trembling in their seats.

“Now, Daddy, please let me explain—” Y/n began before Red jumped up from his seat.

“That’s great!” he boasted with a broad smile and somehow brought out two poms poms from behind him. “Let’s cheer!”

He started hopping up and down, shouting, “P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T!”

“What’s happening?” Hyde asked, staring at Eric who continued to play the scene out for them.

“Who’s going to be a grandpa?” Red cheered. “Me! G-R-A-N-D-P-A! WhooOOooOO!”

 He started jumping up and down like a teenage girl.

“That was unpleasant,” Y/n commented once Eric was finished.

“You got the cheer wrong,” Jackie commented.

“What?” Eric asked, directing his attention to her.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to go—”

“I don’t care,” he cut her off lazily.

The gang chuckled before Y/n looked down at her watch. “The party is in an hour. Honey, you need to get ready.”

“It only takes me two minutes to get ready,” Steven argued.

“You still need to figure out what you’re going to wear.”

“I’m wearing this,” he said and gestured towards his current outfit.

Y/n hummed unamused. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re really not.”

“ Y/n, I’m wearing this and that’s final.”

“Or, you can wear a tie and still have sex tonight.”

Eric rolled his eyes as he forced that mental image out of his head.

Hyde grunted. “Fine.”

He got up and followed Y/n into his room to pick out the outfit he would be wearing.

“Well, I better go pick up Brooke before she gets mad at me again,” Kelso said begrudgingly. “Man, you forget a woman one time at the store and suddenly you’re ‘irresponsible’ and ‘immature.’ You make one small mistake and she never lets you live it down!” Michael rolled his eyes as he walked out the door.

“And I better go pick up Nina,” Fez said. “She’s super foxy and the best part, I get to see her everyday! It really pays off to be dating your boss.”

“You’re dating your boss?” Eric asked.

“Yeah you don’t want to date anyone within the workplace,” Donna said. “This spells disaster.”

“Yeah, but she’s so spicy,” Fez said.

“See and I don’t care. So, I’m just going to go home,” Jackie said and stood by Fez.

“You’re just mad because you’re not going to this party,” Donna stated.

“Yeah! I just had to be the one without a boyfriend and to add salt to the wound, I won’t be there when Mr. Forman finds out.”

“Finds out about what?” Red asked as he came down the stairs.

Fez’s eyes widened. “Bye,” he squeaked and fumbled for the door and whipped it open, running for the hills, leaving Jackie behind.

“Is that kid on dope? Because if he is, I don’t want him in my house” Red asked before turning towards the washer and dryer. “I’m looking for my blue shirt. Your mother is insistent I wear it tonight. I’d rather be back in Korea than go to this damn thing.”

“Yeah, that’s a real kicker, there, DAD,” Eric shouted dramatically, hoping to have Y/n hear and for the love of God to NOT come out of Hyde’s room.

Red gave Eric a look. “Son, are you on dope too?”

Eric laughed uncomfortably. “No, no, not at all, DAD.”

“Yeah, MR. FORMAN. Nothing going on here,” Donna said and gave him a fake smile.

Red shook his head in confusion and pulled his shirt out of the dryer. “Damn teenagers,” he mumbled and sulked back upstairs.

Once he was out of earshot, Eric and Donna huffed and leaned into the couch while Jackie continued to stay by the door. “You know, maybe it’s good that I won’t be here. I don’t want to be here to help clean up the blood. See ya!”

“Yeah,” Eric and Donna said lazily as Jackie walked out the door.

“That was a close one,” Donna said. “After tonight, this will all be over.”

Eric rubbed his face. “God, I hope so.”

“Was that Dad?” Y/n asked, coming out of Steven’s room with him trailing behind her.

“Yeah, it was. He’s gone now,” Eric replied.

“Thanks, you guys. You have no idea how much we appreciate that,” Y/n said. “I promise tonight will be the last. Once Red knows then it will hopefully be over.”

“Or the start of a blood bath,” Donna snickered.

“Real funny,” Y/n said and headed towards the stairs. “I’m going to go change. I’ll see you guys in a few minutes.”

“I’ll go with you. Can I borrow a shirt?” Donna said, joining Y/n on the stairs.

“Yeah, sure. Which one are you thinking?”

“Well, I was thinking…”

Their conversation drifted off as the guys sat on the couch. Eric noticed Hyde wearing a nice shirt and a tie with a pair of black jeans.

 “Wow, Hyde, I didn’t know you even owned a pair of black jeans,” Eric said and batted his eyes. “You look so handsome!” Before he could keep going, a pillow was thrown in his face to muffle his taunting.

                                                                                                                 —Time Skip—

           “Alright, everybody!” Kitty said excitedly as she came through the door into the living room. She set down a plate of hors d'oeuvres on the table. “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.”

She looked around the room to see Y/n and Steven, Eric and Donna, Kelso and Brooke, Bob and his date, Joanne, but no Laurie or Fez. “Where’s Fez?”

“He went to go pick up his date,” Y/n responded. “He’ll be here soon.”

“Oh, okay. Sounds good. Well, you look very pretty tonight, Y/n ,” Kitty said, gesturing towards her dress.

Y/n wore a maroon colored, high low dress that was decorated with orange, white, and blue floral print with long and flowing sleeves. She wore knee high brown boots to match with the dress. Her long hair was flat ironed down her waist as she sported hoop earrings.

“Oh, thank you, Mom,” she said and smoothed out her dress. “You look pretty too.” Kitty wore a nice red dress with short sleeves and a sweet heart neckline. “Donna, Joann, and Brooke look very pretty too.”

Donna and Joann smiled at Y/n who sported normal flowered bell bottoms and a plain and elegant baby pink top. While Brooke, wore simple, yet stylish, emerald green maxi dress with a white dress cardigan and strappy black heels.

“I told you, you looked pretty,” Bob said to Joanne who smiled at him.

“You think I look pretty?” Brooke beamed, feeling relieved. “Thank you so much. Ever since I had Betsy, it’s been hard to go out, let alone dress up.”

Kelso snorted. “I know.”

Brooke glared at him before turning her attention away from him with a hurt expression.

“Steven, would you mind?” Y/n asked.

“It’ll be my pleasure,” he responded before connecting his fist to Kelso’s shoulder.

“Ow!” Kelso shouted, holding his shoulder. “The hell, man?”

“You don’t say that to the woman who just had your baby, you moron!” Y/n scorned. “Brooke looks lovely and you should definitely acknowledge that, you dillhole.”

“I did!”

“I believe your exact words were, ‘Wow, you look hot. Wanna do it?’” Brooke said, imitating Kelso.

“But you do!” he defended.

“Alright, kids,” Kitty said as she handed Red an hors d'oeuvre.

“Hey, if this is a couple’s dinner, then why is Y/n and Steven here?” Bob asked.

Y/n’s heart caught in her throat and Hyde shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, we just wanted to come,” Y/n lied.

“Did ya now?” Red asked suspiciously. “If that’s the case, then why is Steven here?”

“Uh, you know,” Hyde responded nervously and cleared his throat. “Free food.”

“Uh huh,” Red responded unconvinced.

“I asked them to come,” Kitty said, stepping in. “I—uh—”

Laurie walked into the room, unsuspecting of her mother flying over to her.

“I also invited Laurie!” she said, gripping her oldest daughter’s arm and dragging her to the couch.

“What? No, you didn’t—”

“Sshh, shut up, I did and you get five bucks out of this,” Kitty murmured in her ear as Laurie smiled, quickly accepting and sat down on the floor next to the table.

“Hellooooo! Me and Nina are here!” Fez called in, stumbling in through the door. “Please, meet my lovely and hot date, Nina.”

“Fez,” the short haired girl blushed and turned to the group. “Hi!”

“Fez, are you drunk?” Hyde asked.

“I had to pregame before I came!” he announced.

“Fez, you realize you’re not supposed to get drunk when you pregame,” Y/n said. “Only buzzed.”

“And how would you know that?” Red asked.

“Public school. Everybody knows that,” Y/n lied. Sort of.

“Okay, well, let’s just get this party started so I can go to bed,” Red said begrudgingly.

                                                       —Time Skip—

            Later on that evening, when everyone had finished eating and was now enjoying dessert, Fez was enjoying his third glass of kahlua. Kitty had allowed the kids to have small glass of it, but Fez was finishing off Hyde’s and going for Y/n’s.

“Y/n, do you not like your drink?” Red asked.

“Kind of. It’s a little too sweet,” she lied and felt her heart drop. She hated lying to her dad. He trusted her so much. Now, he was going to lose any ounce of pride he had in her. She turned to Kitty, wanting now more than ever to get this over with. “Hey Mom, I think it’s time.”

“No. Not right now,” Kitty shook her head vigorously who was cleaning up the dessert plates. “He hasn’t had enough yet.”

“Time for what?” Red asked.

The mother and daughter ignored him.

“I have to tell him.” Y/n stood from the couch and faced Kitty. “I can’t hold it in anymore.”

“ Y/n, don’t,” Kitty warned, pleading her.

“Tell. Me. What?” Red asked, growing impatient.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just say it and get it over with?”

“Y/n, stop,” Steven piped up, eyeing Red who was now standing behind Y/n.

“For the love of God, tell me what?!”

“To tell you that Y/n is pregnant with Hyde’s baby!” Fez drunkenly shouted, causing the air in the room to still. “Oh, and they’re also getting married!”

Everyone in the room held their breath as they stared at Red.

“Fez, why?” Y/n trembled.

“Well, you weren’t going to say it, so I did.”

“Remind me to kick your ass later,” she seethed and turned around to face her father.

“Y/n, the foreign kid better be lying,” Red threatened, his voice wavering.

Her gaze fell to the floor, not able to keep eye contact with him. Her throat suddenly felt dry and she couldn’t find the words to speak. She swallowed thickly and shook her head.

“I swear to God, if this is some kind sick joke…” Red trailed off and looked around at everyone, seeing their horrified and sullen faces. “Are you really pregnant? With Steven’s baby?!”

Y/n cringed and dared herself to look up at him. “I’m sorry, Daddy, but yes.”

“Wow, I picked a great night to stay home,” Laurie beamed.

Red’s eyes darted to Steven who was visibly sweating. “YOU!”

Kitty was shaking as she stared at the scene in front of her in fright. “Run, honey, run!”

Hyde didn’t hesitate to jump off the couch and sprinted to the front door. Red was on his tail immediately.

“You son of a bitch!” Red roared as he ran after Hyde.

Luckily Hyde was faster as he ripped the door open and made his way down the street with Red running after him like a mad man.

Taglist:  @jeeperky​ @05-feet-off-the-table-06​ @cooloclown​ @mdittyz123​ @n-dg-wm​ @undead-sierra​ @random-thoughts-003​ @lieswithoutfairytales​ @taysirene @ xxivy-32 

[miss-bridgerton]

for real l anthony bridgerton x you l part one

word count: 1,887 words

pairing: anthony bridgerton x you

author’s note: part 1 finally! it’s not much going on, but this is just the beginning. 

taglist: @fact-fictionx @alainabooks143 @michael-loves-chickens @misstonybridgerton

summary: Everyone knew that the Viscount was a rake. Except for, apparently, three young women who clung to his every word. Anthony Bridgerton was in fact charming. But he was absolutely terrible at dating three women at once. Some would call him a dunce for doing so. Others might call him a hero. Adelia Byron called him dead when she found out. Set out on revenge, she and the other two young ladies, Bette DuPont and Siena Rosso, decide to transform a lonely bakers girl into someone who can break the heart of the Viscount.

            PART 1: THE SOCIETY PAPER THAT CAUSED A SCENE

YOU HAD NO IDEA that a gossip column would be the cause of a brawl in your family’s tea shop and bakery: The Fancy Teapot.

Overly priced earl grey tea? Oh, absolutely.

Chairs that pinched the bottoms of debutantes and their mammas? Pinched bottoms surely caused nasty sneers a plenty.

But the latest gossip from the squares’ paper? You certainly didn’t see that coming.

It was all because of the Viscount. Lord Anthony Bridgerton was indeed charming. He had that smile that they all seemed to fawn over. His hair was swept in all the right places. And he was a British nobleman.

What more could a young lady want?

You rolled your eyes at the words that frequented that paper. What more could a young lady want? Well, for starters, you wanted freedom. You wanted to bake. You wanted to explore different cities. Eat exotic foods. Tell stories to your future nieces and nephews of your adventures. You didn’t care about marriage, no matter how many times your sister-in-law pushed it on to you. You just simply wanted to. . .experience life.

Unlike the young women who frequented The Fancy Teapot. They were all scouring for eligible unmarried men. It was what they were taught. It was all that they knew, really. 

And two debutantes who enjoyed sipping tea in The Fancy Teapot had no idea that they were both courting the Viscount. Until it came out on paper, that is.

It was a sunny spring morning and the social season had sprung in London. You loved the social season for the money it brought the tea shop, but you absolutely loathed the social season for the debutantes and their snooty behavior. They were all perfect. Beautiful gowns. Rosy pinched cheeks. The stink of wealth swarmed them like bees attracted to honey.

You had none of those things. You came from a working family. You came from two different countries. Your father had travelled to (a country of your choosing) where he met your mother and they fell in love and married within a week of him being there. Your father had convinced your mother to leave everything behind to be with him in London, but her one condition was to open a tea shop and bakery. 

He clung to his part of the condition. Soon after opening the shop, your older brother Jack was born. Five years later, you were born. For a short while, it was the four of you. Kids running through the tea shop, experimenting with teas, you found the love of baking with your mother, and your parents were still so madly in love it was almost embarrassing. Sadly, your mother became ill and passed away two years ago. 

The death was stricken. And hard on you. But it was your father that you and Jack worried after, for it was almost as if he became a different person. As if he lost a part of himself when your mother died. He tried to drink his sorrows away at the pubs, and fancied spending too much money on gambles and bets. 

That morning, he was nowhere near the tea shop, probably somewhere betting on poker chips, when you had to break apart two debutantes from nearly mauling each other.

Adelia Byron was with her friend, Cressida Cowper, at a small table near the colossal windows. She didn’t say thank you or even acknowledged your existence when you set down her steaming chamomile tea and slice of cornish hevva cake. You rolled your eyes at the way she gloated over the attention she received at the Warwick ball. Adelia was still on a thrill from two nights before, where the touch of the Viscount’s hand on her back as they danced was still on her. She dreamt of his gorgeous eyes. And when she saw the bouquets of roses addressed to her that morning, she was in total bliss.

Her friend, Cressida, was jealous. Adelia knew it. And if there was something Adelia Byron was known for, it was that she enjoyed bragging. Her father was a Baron, which made her quite eligible for marriage to a Viscount. She had elegant features: Dark red hair, stormy eyes, high cheek-bones. She had already received three proposals but Adelia knew what she wanted. Who she wanted.

Simply put, nobody else would do. She was going to marry the Viscount. And God help her and anyone who got in her way. 

On the other side of The Fancy Teapot, situated at a round table underneath an elegant painting by your brother Jack, was Elizabeth DuPont and her overbearing mother, Colette. Elizabeth, often called Bette, was the daughter of The Marquess of DuPont. So her marriage to a man of great wealth and a powerful title was extremely vital. To her mother, at least.

Bette was fond of the Viscount. He swept her away with his words, he was impressed with the way she could speak French and German, and the kiss he laid upon her gloved hand sent a thrill through her body. She couldn’t bear to tell her mother that when she went out to the balcony for a quick breath of fresh air during the Warwick Ball, she was accompanied by Lord Anthony Bridgerton.

Her mother would have been furious. She wanted Bette to charm the Prince - not the Viscount. She wanted her daughter to marry a title higher, not a title lower. 

You had just set down two tea cups of herbal tea at their table when one of the young newsie boys stopped by the Fancy Teapot to drop off the new Society Paper. 

“Hey, Sam,” you greeted the ten year old boy. He often was the one who sauntered in here to deliver the paper and he did it eagerly, knowing fully well that you were going to give him some free wrapped biscuits, like always.

“Y/N!” He greeted with a boyish grin. “What’s on the menu today? I hope it's something drowned in sugar!” He said excitedly.

You laughed and grabbed the box of warm treacle tarts from under the front counter. “It’s not drowned in sugar, but I think you’ll still enjoy them,” you told him.

He grinned widely. “You’re a real magician, Miss Y/L/N!”

You smiled warmly as the little boy went off and you were so busy handing over his desserts that you didn’t even notice, Dorothea, your sister-in-law, completely captivated by the latest Lady Whistledown’s writings.

“Bloody Hell,” she muttered, leaning her back against the counter and reading the paper. A mama and her daughter were standing by the counter, awaiting some assistance and looking very peevish. You sighed at how unobservant Dorothea was.

You took care of the customers and then turned to Dorothea, who looked as if she had acquired the most scandalous news.

“Y/N! Have you read this yet? It’s so scandalous!”

“No,” you replied, though you were a bit curious. “Who is it about?”

“The Viscount.”

“Hard pass,” you replied.

Dorothea rolled her eyes. “You are impossible. It’s not just about him but about the women he’s apparently leading on. And,” she took a moment to look around the tea shop and then in a hushed tone continued, “two of them are in here. Right now. Unaware of all of it!”

Well, surely just a peak at the new Society Paper wouldn’t do any harm. You grabbed the paper and took a look:

At the Warwick ball Thursday evening, Viscount Bridgerton was seen dancing with not one eligible young lady, but two. Now, I assume you dear readers know quite the reputation of our charming Viscount, as this behavior isn’t quite unusual. If you are familiar with the season’s doings, dancing with eligible suitors is normal.

Except Lord Anthony Bridgerton was seen with Miss Bette DuPont awfully close on the brink of the balcony and also seen later that evening with a certain opera singer, Siena Rosso, nuzzling her neck in a dark corner of the opera house.

How will the ladies take this embarrassment? Well, this author predicts that Miss Bette DuPont will turn a rather shade red and Miss Adelia Byron’s eyes will flash with a colour quite similar. Miss Siena Rosso will probably be locked up in a bedroom with the Viscount to even notice.

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS,16 APRIL 1814

Oh, brother, you thought. This better not cause anything stupid in here -

“HOW DARE YOU!!!!”

You and Dorothea looked up in bewilderment at the sudden outburst. And there it was. Lady Adelia Byron, looking absolutely furious, clutching the society paper, and standing over Lady Bette DuPont who was sitting at her table, looking between a mix of surprise and confusion.

“I beg your pardon?” Bette said to her appalled. 

“You!” Adelia yelled. “You are involved with my suitor! How dare you?! You - you - harlot!”

Bette’s jaw dropped but it was her mother who spoke. “My, I never! That is quite unladylike behavior, young lady. My Elizabeth is not some harlot, clearly you cannot read because you have been thoroughly mistaken.”

Adelia rolled her stormy eyes and handed over the paper. Bette hastily read it before gasping, throwing a pretty gloved hand over her mouth.

“This cannot be true. My Lord would never do such things.” Bette told her.

“My Lord?” Adelia mocked. “He’s not your anything. I am going to marry him. So this little rendezvous is finished.”

Bette raised a brow. “I don’t think so,” she simply replied and took a sip of her tea.

Adelia looked as if she was going to chuck that steaming tea pot at the young lady’s head, so you had no choice - you had to get involved.

“Ladies, please, there is no need to act in such a manner,” you told them. They both looked in your direction, looking at you as if you were just a nobody. As if they were thinking, who the hell are you and who makes you think you have any say in this?

You cleared your throat. “He’s just a man,” you tried to explain.

Adelia snorted. “Idiot,” she said under her breath.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You know, instead of getting mad at each other for something neither of you two were unaware of, you should be mad at him. Instead you are fighting over the tosser. Now that is an idiot.”

Both girls’ jaws dropped at what you said. But both didn’t say anything in retaliation. Instead, Adelia lifted her head high and walked away with what dignity she possessed and Bette went back to her tea, ignoring her mother’s angry stares.

Dorothea was nearly bursting in astonishment and the tea shop, which went quiet during the whole argument, went back to the bustling noise it always had.

All went back to normal. Until later that evening. 

While you were cleaning up and closing down The Fancy Teapot for the day, you found a folded napkin at the same table that Adelia Byron sat with Cressida Cowper. Inside was a perfectly scrawled note addressed to you.

Not many people can inspire me, but you, Miss Bakery girl, did. Visit my estate as soon as you can manage. We have a lot to discuss.

X Miss Adelia Byron

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Relationship Stahl ~ Charlie Conway x Adam Banks

A/N: Hi all, I'm on my Mighty Ducks bullshit, so sorry not sorry. This is just for fun. It's postcanon - could be canon with the show. I don't specifically go against anything. But yeah. Enjoy this fic for a movie that came out over 25 years ago. *Posts fic and runs away*

Summary: Charlie and Adam are idiots. And they finally figure that out thanks to Charlie's pen pal.

Characters/Pairings: Charlie Conway/Adam Banks, Charlie Conway, Adam Banks, Connie Moreau, Guy Germaine, Fulton Reed, Gunnar Stahl

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800

Warnings: Language ( I think that's it)

^True love if I ever saw it ;)

Charlie grinned at his laptop as he fired off his enthusiastic response to the latest email from his pen pal before flipping open his phone. Instead of scrolling through his contacts, he dialed the number he knew by heart.

“I literally just dropped you off,” his best friend laughed when he picked up on the third ring.

“And I couldn’t bear to be without you,” Charlie quipped back.

“What do you want, Charlie?”

Adam’s voice was undeniably fond and it made Charlie’s stomach flutter.

“How do you feel about going to the Wilds game on Saturday?”

“How’d you swing those tickets?”

Charlie shrugged even though Adam couldn’t see him. “I know a guy. So are you in? We can grab drinks with some of the ducks afterwards.”

He could practically hear Adam shaking his head and it made Charlie’s smile widen. He knew what his answer would be.

“Yeah, I’m in. Of course I’m in. I’ll pick you up at 5?”

“Sounds good.”

“Are the other ducks coming?

“I’m gonna see who’s around.”

“Alright. Can’t wait. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Charlie smiled at the question in his voice.

“Of course. I’ll call you after work.”

“Good night, Charlie.”

“Night. Banksy. Text me when you get home, alright?”

“Will do.”

Adam was wearing a Minnesota Wilds Jersey and a pair of tight-fitting jeans, when he knocked on the door of Charlie’s house.

He checked his watch. He was early.

He was always early.

Charlie probably wouldn’t be ready for another half hour, so he was surprised when the door swung open – at least until he saw Casey Conway’s smiling face.

“Adam, honey, how are you?” she cooed as she pulled him inside and into a tight hug.

“I’m great, Mrs. Conway. You’re looking lovely this evening.”

She swatted at him, but he saw her genuine smile. “Always a charmer.”

“How are you? How’s the diner?”

“I’m great. The diner is doing well. Business has really increased since we reopened after the renovations. We still have our regulars, but we’re getting more of a younger crowd too.”

“That’s awesome. And so well deserved.”

Adam could still remember when Charlie had sprinted into their college dorm room talking a mile a minute. He’d gleaned that there was a long lost uncle who’d passed and left his mother a rather large inheritance, and she was going to use that to buy out the diner that she’d been helping run for years.

Charlie had been so excited he’d nearly fell over because he forgot to breathe. Adam had spent the summer helping to paint and decorate the newly renovated diner.

“It’s been way too long since you’ve come over for dinner. Are you free next week?”

“Would Tuesday work?”

“Perfect. That’s my early night. And I’ll make your favorite pot pie.”

Adam grinned at the ceiling as he rocked back on his heels.

“You’re the best, Mrs. C.”

“Well, I won’t hold you up. I’m afraid I’ve already made Charlie late. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“See you then.”

She gave him another quick hug before scurrying out the door.

Adam sighed as he checked his watch.

“Hey, Spazaway. Hurry up or we’re gonna be late!” he yelled up the stairs.

“I’m coming! Relax, cake-eater!”

There were several thumps as Charlie hopped on one foot to get his shoe on and then a slam of his bedroom door, but by the time he made it downstairs he looked perfectly disheveled in a cool way instead of a sloppy way. Classic Charlie. It’d be irritating if it wasn’t so attractive.

“Hey, Banksy. See, 5:15 right on time.”

“I told you I’d pick you up at 5,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but we both know that at this point you tell me you’ll pick me up 30 minutes before we actually have to leave. So technically, I’m 15 minutes early,” Charlie grinned and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Adam huffed but couldn’t argue. Charlie was right. He’d learned a long time ago never to trust Charlie to be punctual, so he had started telling him earlier times in the hope that they’d actually arrive places before the events were over.

“It’s gonna be a great night.”

“Are any of the others coming?”

“Connie, Guy, and Fulton. Everyone else was busy.”

“That’ll be fun,” Adam admitted as he climbed into the car.

Secretly, he’d kind of been hoping that it would just be him and Charlie, but he shoved that thought away. It would be good to go out with some of his oldest friends.

“Yeah. It will.”

The five ducks were happily chatting and catching up, laden down with food as they waited for the game to start.

Guy was the first to notice the name after the national anthem.

“Do you think Stahl is the same one we faced from Iceland?”

“I don’t know,” Adam shrugged. “How common of a name do you think it is?”

“Remember when you had that massive crush on Gunnar, Charlie?” Connie teased before taking a sip of her soda.

“I didn’t have a crush on Gunnar.”

“You so did,” Fulton laughed, nudging. “How many hours did you spend watching tapes of his signature shot?”

“That was research,” Charlie insisted, though his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Yeah, you definitely needed to spend all that time on just Gunnar Stahl and not the rest of Iceland,” Guy faux agreed with an exaggerated wink.

Adam remained quiet. He remembered Charlie’s “not a crush” all too well. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he’d been jealous at the time.

At first it had been, look at this shot. Or look at this play.

And then after the games it was, he’s so nice and cool. He called me ‘Captain Duck’.

Charlie hadn’t shut up about him until they were on the plane home and he promptly knocked out on Adam’s shoulder. Number ninety-nine didn’t have it in him to be jealous when he got to have a sleeping Charlie Conway on top of him.

Tuning back into the conversation after his quick jaunt down memory lane, Adam realized they were still ribbing Charlie.

“Okay, fine. I might have had a little crush on him. I was young. I was still figuring myself out,” Charlie admitted.

“Figures your first crush would be on a hockey player,” Fulton pointed out.

“Who said he was my first crush?”

Adam swore Charlie’s gaze darted to him, and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“Well you literally never talked about anybody else like that before him,” Guy said.

“Except Banks,” Fulton added.

The three of them looked at Adam and he knew he was bright red. They all knew he’d had a crush on Charlie when they were kids. And that he still sort of had a crush on him. He could kick Fulton right now, and he would have if Charlie wasn’t sitting in between them.

“I still talk about Banksy all the time.”

“I’m right here,” Adam finally managed to grumble.

Charlie grinned and nudged him with his shoulder, before throwing an arm around him.

“Are we really gonna sit here and argue over who I did or did not have a crush on twenty something years ago?”

“Yes.” The other three nodded emphatically.

Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Alright fine. Yes, I had a crush on him. But laugh all you want. You have that crush to thank for these seats,” Charlie reminded them smugly.

“What do you mean?” Adam choked out as the others gasped.

Charlie looked at the four flabbergasted ducks in confusion.

“Gunnar got me the tickets. I thought you guys knew.”

“We didn’t know that,” Guy nearly shouted.

“You kept in touch with him all these years?” Connie asked softly.

Their captain shrugged.

“We were pen pals. And now we email every few weeks.”

Adam’s heart clenched in something that felt a lot like jealousy – a lot like when he was 14. He turned his attention to the game, Stahl was on the ice. Adam couldn’t help but track his movements. It had been years since he moved like that. Another squeeze.

It was going to be a long night.

Charlie noticed the instant Adam went rigid, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, he was the one being teased for a 20 year old crush that only lasted for a minute.

He tried to nudge his best friend and get a response, but Adam’s eyes were glued to the game. That wouldn’t have worried Charlie, but the tight set of his jaw was nothing like his usual relaxed joy at the games. That was one of the reason Charlie had made it a point to go to as many hockey games with Adam as he could. He loved to observe him while he watched the game. But right now, his expression was stony.

When Gunnar managed a hat trick early in the third, Adam abruptly excused himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom.

“What’s up with Banks?” Fulton voiced Charlie’s question aloud.

Charlie shrugged. “No clue.”

Connie rolled her eyes.

“Boys. He’s jealous.”

“Of what?”

“God, Charlie, are you that oblivious?”

His brow furrowed and he stared at her.

“What are you talking about?”

She huffed and shook her head.

“Nope. If you can’t figure it out after 25 years, you’re on your own.”

Adam was less grumpy, but still pretty sedate when he returned with only a few minutes left to go.

“You alright?” Charlie asked in a low voice as he settled back into his seat.

“Yeah. All good. Long line for the bathroom.”

Charlie didn’t believe him, but shrugged it off as the Wilds managed a late game comeback and beat the Anaheim Mighty Ducks and they were all on their feet cheering.

The five of them waited outside the side exit where the players would come out for Gunnar. The former Iceland captain signed a few autographs before he caught sight of Charlie and waved, flashing him a big smile.

“Good to see you, Captain Duck!” he shouted as he pulled Charlie into a tight hug.

“Good to see you too, Gunnar. Nice playing tonight.”

“Thank you.” Gunnar turned his attention to the rest of the Ducks. “It’s good to see you all too.”

There were various murmurs of agreement, before an awkward silence fell.

“Drinks?” Charlie finally suggested.

“Definitely.”

Drinks helped. Everyone loosened up by the second round. Even Adam, though he was not that talkative. He could see why Charlie would have kept in touch with the Icelander. He really was quite charming.

That did not help.

When Charlie stepped away from the table to get another pitcher, Gunnar slid into his vacated seat. Adam panicked for a moment. Guy and Connie were deep in conversation and Fulton had gone to the bathroom, it was just the two of them.

“You know, Captain Duck still never shuts up about you.”

“Still?” Adam asked, fixated on the word.

“At the Goodwill Games, when we spoke for the first time at the closing ceremony, Charlie wouldn’t stop raving about you. How he’d been worried about you being hurt. He even glared at Sanderson. And in his letters, he always talked about you. In every single one. I think I knew more about how you were doing than I did about him.”

“Sorry?”

Adam had no idea how to respond. Gunnar chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s sweet. I’m glad the two of you have made it this far. You’re a good pair.”

Adam’s jaw dropped and he floundered for an answer.

“Thanks?”

“Thanks what?”

Of course Guy chose that moment to resurface from his conversation.

“For saying I played well back in ’94,” Adam lied unconvincingly.

Charlie’s return halted the conversation, and Adam couldn’t help but think about what Gunnar had said. Why would Charlie be talking about him? Did Gunnar think they were together? Why did Gunnar think they were together?

His head was spinning. And it definitely wasn’t the alcohol. Per usual, it was all Charlie Conway’s fault.

Charlie was playing with the edge of his jersey when Adam pulled up to his house.

“Do you want to come in for a bit?” he offered.

“Yeah, sure,” Adam agreed.

“Oh. Okay. Cool.”

Charlie had been expecting him to bail. That was what Adam did when things got tense between them, so his easy agreement caught him off guard.

He pulled two beers from the fridge and took a moment to steel himself before rejoining Adam in the living room.

“It was a great game.”

“Yeah. Ducks were smart when they got Gunnar.”

“Definitely.”

“So, why didn’t you tell any of us that you were still talking to him?”

The former captain tried to gauge Adam’s mood, but he was surprisingly nonchalant.

“I didn’t really think about it. When we were writing actual letters, I’d get one maybe three times a year. So it just never came up. And then we started emailing and it was just something I did. It never seemed like a big deal.”

“So it’s not because you’ve been carrying a torch for him all these years?” Adam asked shyly.

The laughter that bubbled out of Charlie was loud and somewhat alarming.

“Of course not, Banksy. I mean, yes, I had a crush on him. For what seems like five seconds at this point in our lives. He’s just someone I liked to keep in touch with. Another person to talk hockey with. Honestly, I thought we’d last like two letters and then never talk again.”

“Have you seen him before?”

“No. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen him since we left the games. This isn’t some big torrid affair I’ve been hiding. It’s a pen pal. Who got us tickets to a Wilds game.”

“That was pretty cool.”

“Are we good?”

Adam nodded. “We’re good. Sorry, it was just unexpected.”

“That’s fair. I really thought I had told you guys at some point over the years. Sorry I sprang it on you… unintentionally.”

“No worries.”

It was comfortable for a bit. Charlie put on ESPN and they caught the highlights from the other games that had been played. Somehow he ended up leaning heavily into Adam’s side.

“Was he your first?” He asked as the commentators went over the same play for the third time.

“Was who my first what?” Charlie asked, letting his head loll to the side so he could look at Adam without pulling away.

“Was Gunnar your first crush?”

It came out in a sigh.

“No. He wasn’t.”

“Who was it?”

“Guess.”

“Charlie.”

“I’m serious. Guess. I’ll even give you 5 questions to try and figure it out.”

Charlie wasn’t going to admit it without a fight, and Adam knew it. Curiosity got the better of him.

“Fine. Was your first crush a hockey player?”

“Yes.”

“Someone on our team?”

Charlie nodded, sitting up so he could watch him more closely.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“Peewees or Goodwill Games?”

“Met him in Peewees. Realized I had a crush on him during the Goodwill Games.”

“Did he go to Eden Hall?”

“Yes. I even roomed with him at one point. That’s five. Time to guess.”

He was certain he’d know now.

“Fulton?” Adam asked innocently.

Charlie hung his head.

“You cannot possibly be this obtuse, Banksy.”

“What? You met him in Peewees, he was with us at the games and at Eden hall and you roomed with him sophomore year.”

“Christ,” he huffed. “It’s you, Banksy. Not Fulton. God, definitely not Fulton. He’s like my brother. It’s you.”

“Me? You had a crush on me?”

“I mean, can you call it a crush if it lasts 25 years?”

Adam’s jaw hit the floor.

“You still have a crush on me?” His voice was small, so much like that 10 year old who’d been forced to leave the Hawks. But there was hope.

Charlie, momentarily panicked before resigning himself to his fate. It had to come out.

“No, Adam. I don’t have a crush on you now.”

His best friend deflated slightly.

“I’m in love with you now. I have been for as long as I can remember. Even if I didn’t realize it. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way –“

“I do. Feel the same way. God, Charlie. I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

“Seriously?”

Adam nodded once, resolutely before Charlie’s lips were on his.

The kiss was quick and hungry and it left them both wanting more.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Charlie demanded in a whisper as he pulled back, touching their foreheads together.

“Why didn’t you?” Adam sniped back.

“Touche. God so much lost time.”

“We didn’t lose anything, Charlie. We were together. That’s never a loss.”

“I love you, Banksy.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

A/N: Yeah so I love them. I hope you enjoyed this. I stand by my theory that Charlie had a brief infatuation with Gunnar Stahl. Thanks for reading!

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Continues

Part 2: 5 Weeks Pregnant

Summary: Y/n comes down with an unexplainable bug and tries to chalk it up to stress at work. But after a conversation with her sister-in-law, realization hits her that it’s not in fact a bug at all. 

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3.8K+

Warnings: Language, nausea and vomiting, discussion of surprise pregnancy

Author’s Note: Welcome back to the party everyone. Let’s get started! Special thanks to my always hype woman @waywardbeanie​ and my amazingly patient beta @emoryhemsworth​ Please enjoy some reviews from friends who have the luxury of a few sneak peeks. xoxo Alex

“I never thought I would have to engage in fisticuffs with Jensen, but here we go lol”  @jensengirl83​

“Y’all are gonna love it.” @emoryhemsworth​

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The whole church was bustling as the pastor released the congregation for the day. It had been a nice sermon that Y/n hadn’t exactly paid attention to. All morning her body had been feeling iffy. It was something that she couldn’t exactly place, she just felt...off. Y/n assumed she was just coming down with a bug. By the time they had made it to the church, she was ready for a nap. In all honesty, she had to fight to keep her eyes open as their pastor droned on, which she did feel bad about. 

Y/n was rolling her tongue about as Jensen drove them off to Jared and Gen’s for their usual Sunday brunch. Gen had woken up late with the kids and therefore the Padalecki’s had skipped church that day. That meant Y/n didn’t have to help cook, a fact which she was grateful for considering the spinning going on in her head. 

“You’re quiet over there,” Jensen noted as they walked to the front door, their fingers entwined between them. 

“I just feel off this morning,” Y/n explained. “I’m not sure what it is.” 

“You think you’re coming down with something?” Jensen pushed open the door, letting themselves into the house. 

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you have been stressed lately. First, there was everything that happened at work and then the move. It’s a lot for anybody. Your body is probably worn down.” His words trailed off as Shep came running to greet them at the door. Jensen ruffled the kid’s hair as he came to hug them both. 

“Hmm, remind me to chug some orange juice then,” she commented before turning her attention to her nephew. Shep went into a deep explanation about how his mother had let him help cook their brunch, telling them both how he only dropped a few eggshells into the bowl. 

Y/n was laughing along with him as they went deeper into the house. It wasn’t until she rounded the front staircase that the smell of cooking bacon and pancakes hit her nose, causing a wave of nausea to roll through her. Planting her feet, she dropped Jensen’s hand and ran to the nearest powder room, the door slamming behind her. 

Y/n had to spit the saliva pooling in her mouth into the sink, taking deep breaths through her nose to will away the rolling inside her. Puking was the worst thing in her mind, and she would do anything to avoid an episode. This time she was successful, rinsing her mouth with water from the faucet helping to calm inside her. 

“Y/n/n,” Jensen turned the knob, waiting for a protest from her that didn’t come before pushing the door open, “Are you okay?”

Y/n shook her head, afraid if she spoke it would open the faucet inside her. “Do we need to go home?”

“No,” she swallowed down the bile and took another deep breath. “You eat, I’m just gonna lie down.” 

“Okay,” Jensen relented, running his hand down the back of her head and pulling her in so he could place a kiss to her forehead. “You’re sure?” 

“I just—” a hiccup tore through her, threatening to destroy all she was fighting down. “I just need a minute.” She managed to get the words out before leaving her husband standing in the doorway to the bathroom. As she headed off for the couch in Jared’s office, Jensen made his way back to where Jared and Gen were waiting, both of them staring at him in anticipation upon his return. 

“Is she alright?” Gen asked as she flipped a pancake on the griddle. 

“She says she is, but she’s gonna just lie this one out I think. Earlier she mentioned that she felt off.” Jensen took a coffee mug from the counter and filled it before sitting at the table. “I think she’s running herself into the ground. She’s trying to do more than one person should take on.” 

“Just make sure she gets a lot of fluids and some rest, and she’ll be good as new,” Jared noted as he tapped Tom’s hand when he reached out to grab something from Shep’s plate. 

“I hope so…”

Y/n had no sooner lain her head on the throw pillow than passed out. Jensen had to shake her a little harder than usual to wake her when the family had finished brunch. Y/n had felt far better after her nap, the events of the morning all but forgotten once she got home, though she didn’t push her luck with eating anything that evening. Mosty she drank a lot of juice, her cure-all. 

****

Soft pop music played on from the lobby of her office. Mondays in her office were usually casual, filled with standard meetings and the answering of emails. Today was no different, well, besides the fact that she couldn’t keep her eyes open. The long paragraphs on her screen began to run together and she kept having to reread them over. It was when her eyelids eventually started to droop that she sighed in defeat. 

Y/n pushed her chair away from her desk and went to close her door. She leaned out the doorway quickly to speak to her assistant. “I’m taking an early lunch, field my calls for a few hours, please?” Abby nodded her head and Y/n closed the door behind her. She sauntered over to the stiff couch that sat along the far wall of her office. Plopping down on the decorative piece, she kicked off her heels and laid out across it. 

She was out as soon as her eyes closed.

The sharp trill of her cell phone jolted her awake. The sudden change in her position had her stomach flipping. Gingerly, she brought her hand up to her mouth and she paused to allow the bout of nausea to pass her. By the time she got her bearings, her phone had ceased ringing. Y/n slipped her heels back on her feet and made her way to her desk to retrieve her cell. The time across the screen indicated she had been out for two hours. She let out a huff, assuming she would get a thirty-minute cat nap before finishing her day. Now she felt bad about leaving Abby out there to answer all her calls during that time. 

The missed call indicated that it was from her husband. As she sat down behind her desk, she redialed his number. He answered on the second ring. 

“Hey honey,” she could practically see his smile through the phone. 

“Hey,” her voice was hoarse as she answered him.

“Babe, you okay?” The change in his tone had Y/n picturing him sitting up straight wherever he was. 

“Uh, I don’t really know. I just took a two-hour nap in my office, though,” Y/n’s eyes drifted shut again as she rubbed a hand over her face. 

“Are you still feeling sick?” Y/n grunted out a response. “Well, I was calling to ask what you wanted for dinner, but now I’m thinking maybe you should come home, you don’t sound too well. Take the day off.” 

“I think maybe you’re right.” There was nothing big happening today. They had survived the last two hours without her, they could make it through the rest of the day. “I’ll be home in ten, love you.” 

“Love you too, see you soon.” The line clicked as Jensen hung up the phone. Y/n collected her things and headed out of the office. She let Abby know she was taking a sick day on her way out, the woman wishing her well as she exited. 

She barely remembered the drive home, only registering that she was even in the car once she parked it in the garage. The smell of cooking chicken hit her nose as soon as she entered the house, sending waves through her stomach. Y/n dropped her purse in the hallway, booking it past Jensen, who stood in front of a large pot on the stove, and straight to the nearest bathroom, her hand over her mouth to keep from making a mess. 

Her knees hit the tile hard as she leaned over the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach into the bowl. Jensen was right behind her, pulling her hair back and holding it out of harm's way. Gently he rubbed small circles on her back until she was dry heaving, nothing left to come up. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and fell against the wall near the toilet. Her eyes were watering and her nose was running. Jensen stood and ran a washcloth under the tap before kneeling back in front of her to wipe her face. 

“I was going to make you some soup, but apparently that’s now out of the question.” He tried to smile for her, but it was tight and unconvincing. 

“Maybe just some crackers for now,” she rasped, smiling back at him so he knew that she appreciated the sentiment. Jensen snorted with a shake of his head. It was just like his wife, making jokes as she sat on the bathroom floor where she had just vomited her guts out. 

“Alright, what do you say we get you into bed?” He cocked his head at her as he continued to wipe away what makeup he could from her face. She nodded enthusiastically, allowing him to help her to her feet. She followed him through the house and to their bedroom. Jensen went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas as she began to disrobe. He tossed the cotton garments her way before going to turn down the bed. 

“I’m going to finish the soup anyway, in case you’re up for it later,” he said, tossing their throw pillows across the room and pulling back the thick comforter. “Holler if you need me, yeah?” Y/n crawled into the open bed, the cool sheets feeling amazing against her heated skin. 

“Thank you.” The smile on her face was weak. 

“That’s what I’m here for. Get some rest.” Jensen leaned down and tucked her into the bed, placing a soft kiss against the clammy skin of her forehead. She watched as he sauntered out of the room, shutting off the light as he went. For the second time that day, she was asleep before she knew it. 

****

That week, Monday’s events had all but become her routine. Y/n had stopped eating breakfast before work, which tended to help her get through the day, though she was still opting for a quick nap during her lunch break seeing as she wasn’t eating anyway, a fact which she was skillfully keeping from her husband. He worried about her far too much, and if he knew she still wasn’t feeling well, he’d insist on her calling her doctor, which was the last thing she wanted to do. Y/n hated the doctor almost as much as she hated airports. 

It was harder to hide from him at night, even though she found once she was home from work she could keep food down for longer. As long as it was something light, her stomach handled it well. As far as she knew, he was not suspicious. 

She was wrong. 

Gen had called her asking if she wanted to go with her to the park with the kids, which Y/n would never turn down as it was an opportunity to be with her niece and nephews. What she didn’t know is Jensen had asked Gen to pump Y/n for information. He knew she wasn’t eating and sleeping a lot more than usual, and he was just being the concerned husband. 

“So, how have you been this week?” Gen asked as they sat down on the bench to watch the kids run amok. 

“Not, bad I guess.” 

“So you think you’re over whatever happened on Sunday?” Gen pushed, watching her kids on the playground. 

“Eh, whatever it is, I have it under control,” Y/n played off her concerns, not exactly worried about it herself. If she was being frank, she didn’t have time to be worried about it. Her skincare line was launching in a few weeks and there was still so much to get done. She had press releases to approve, and a pop-up event downtown that she was to attend when the brand premiered at Ulta. No, it wasn’t her concern right now. Everything was under control.

“That doesn’t sound convincing.” 

“It’s just some sort of bug. I’ll be fine. I’ve only gotten sick a couple of times.” Gen snapped her head to her sister-in-law, a frown etched on her features. 

“You’ve been getting sick all week?” 

“That’s not what I said,” Y/n groaned, knowing full well Gen was spiraling into mom-mode. 

“But you’ve been nauseous, yeah?” 

“I mean off and on, but I’ve been able to eat and keep it down most meals. It’s the ‘not being able to keep my eyes open’ that’s pissing me off. I know I’m probably overdoing it but I don’t have the luxury of thinking about that now. I can sleep when this line has launched.” 

“Sounds like when I was pregnant with Shep. All I did during the first trimester was sleep and puke. It was exhausting. Try sucking on lollipops, it helps.” Y/n nodded as Gen jumped up to reprimand Odette for going up the slide instead of down it. Her words rang around in Y/n’s head as she watched the small brunette grab her godchild and pull her off the slide. 

There was no way…

Y/n whipped her phone out of her pocket, quickly thumbing through her calendar, looking for an appointment. The further she went back in weeks the more nervous she became. She found it in the middle of May, the red indicating that it had been canceled after it already read that it was a makeup appointment. She hadn’t been back since the beginning of the year. Panic set in, which was not doing anything for the state of her stomach at the moment. She sat there, counting back the days since her last period, the hammering of her heart increasing as the number of days increased. Y/n had missed her period and not even noticed. She really was an idiot, she thought to herself 

For the rest of her visit, she tried to remain level headed. In reality, she wanted nothing more than to run to the nearest drug store, which was exactly what she did the second that Gen rounded up three tired kids to take home and put to bed. There was a store just two blocks out of her way home which she went straight for the second she turned over the ignition in her Jeep. Slipping inside the small store, she grabbed one of every brand of pregnancy test they sold there, and quietly slipped back out. 

Y/n rolled the brown paper bag up tightly in her fist as she raced inside the house. Every sense was heightened as she made her way through the house, keeping an eye out for her husband, but she found him nowhere as she entered, assuming that he was already in the bedroom. She stopped outside the bedroom door, shimmying off her jacket and rolling her secret up inside before entering. 

Jensen sat up as she entered, but she just muttered something about having to pee as she passed, which wasn’t exactly a lie. There wasn’t even enough time for him to say hello before she was catching the lock on the door behind her. 

The first thing she did was dump the contents of the paper bag onto the counter, organizing the tests on the counter as she skimmed over the instructions. The bottle of water she chugged on the drive over was starting to do its job, making her antsy as she read over what to do. Most of the tests had the same instructions inside, making things easier for her overall. Her shaky fingers ripped into the boxes, tossing the torn cardboard into the trash as she went. 

It took all of five minutes to find out whether or not she was, in fact, pregnant, but it was the longest five minutes of her life. She was sure Jensen was probably wondering if she was having more stomach issues with the amount of time she had spent behind the locked door. 

When the appropriate time had passed, Y/n flipped the tests over, her hands passing through each one quicker than the last, and all of them telling her the same thing. 

Y/n’s fingers gripped into the marble countertop, the five pregnancy tests sitting inside the sink. Their answer to her question was definite. There were no ‘maybes’ about it, no one and a half lines or ‘possibles’ etched into the screen. Each test was flashing back up at her like neon signs.

She was pregnant. 

Outside the bathroom door, her husband was unknowingly lounging in their bed. He was without a care and probably mindlessly scrolling through his Twitter feed like every other night before bed, and she was about to destroy that façade with two simple words. 

The nervous woman ran her hands through her hair before shaking out her limbs. She took a few deep breaths before steeling herself to go out and tell him. Dragging it out wouldn’t do anyone any good. Even though this wasn’t planned, both of them had made known their wishes for a family, and it was in this that fact that she was even able to muster up the courage to tell him she had fucked up. Because it was the truth, she had fucked up, major.

Plastering a smile on her face, she pulled open the door, making sure to shut it behind her to hide the tests until she could break the news. Y/n stalked over to where Jensen was lounging, his legs crossed at the ankle with one hand behind his head, the other scrolling through his phone. His brow was scrunched as he concentrated on whatever he was reading on the tiny screen. She climbed onto the bed and over to his side before stopping to sit back on her knees.

“Hey, babe,” his voice was soft and his eyes heavy. Jensen put the phone down and put his hand on her bare knee, rubbing soft circles there. 

“Jensen, I’ve got to tell you something.” It took everything in her to quell the shake in her voice as her heart rate picked up. But of course, him and his damn perceptiveness had to pick up on it in a millisecond.  

Jensen’s brows knit together and he sat up a little in the bed. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“I’m…” Her breath caught in her throat as the reality of their situation kept washing over her in droves. Jesus, Y/n, spit it out, she thought. “I’m pregnant.”

Silence fell over the room once she finally managed to get the words out. Y/n watched her husband as his tongue poked out between his teeth and his jaw clenched as he tried to figure out the words he wanted to say. The lack of reaction had her stomach flipping on itself, which, giving her current situation, was not helping anything. Y/n swallowed down nausea to push her husband into talking. 

“Jay, please say something.” 

“How did this happen?”

“With the insanity at work and the move I just... I missed a couple of appointments with my gynecologist. I missed my shot,” she explained, hoping he didn’t hate her. 

“Fuck, Y/n!” He fell back into the bed, the inflection in his words the worst possible thing she could hear. The sheer rumble of it in the quiet room was enough to make her flinch back from the man she loved. Jensen ran both of his large hands down his face before continuing. “This wasn’t supposed to happen now, I was supposed to have more time.”

“What?” His words made no sense to her. As far as she knew, Jensen wanted kids. It was something they had talked about before they were ever an item. Had she been wrong? Were the two of them somehow not on the same page about this? Y/n tried to rack her brain for a moment in time where that could have changed but she was coming up empty. 

“I was supposed to have more time with you. Just the two of us before we did this, before late-night feedings and diapers, before everything changes forever,” He explained further. His words calmed down her racing heart and mind, but only a little. Now she felt more guilty than she already was. All he wanted was to be with her and she had ruined his plans.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered, casting her eyes down to where her fingers were fiddling with the hem of her shirt. The tears that had been threatening to fall this whole time had finally made a break for it, leaving shining tracks down her cheeks. 

“Oh, Y/n,” he sighed, taking her hand in his and pulling her to lay in his side. Y/n shoved her face into his chest, trying her hardest not to break into a full sob as he rubbed his hand into her back. After everything she did, she couldn’t believe that Jensen was the one that had to console her. It should be the other way around, right? It was her who had fucked up and ruined their plans for their future together, not him, after all. 

“I’m sorry,” she couldn’t stop the words that came out of her mouth this time. Y/n would tell him she was sorry until she was blue in the face. 

“I know, honey,” Jensen murmured into her hair before placing a kiss to the crown of her head. He continued to rub his hand along her back, waiting for her breathing to even before breaking the silence. 

“You’re really pregnant?” He asked, his voice much softer this time.

“If the five pregnancy tests in the sink have any say, then yes.” His chuckle shook his body and Y/n relished in the vibration of it against her cheek. 

“This isn’t how or when I picture this happening, I won’t lie about that, but honey, we’re having a baby, this is a good thing.” The way his voice rose at the end of his sentence had Y/n pulling out of her hiding space in his side, looking up to see him smiling down at her. 

“You’re not mad? You don’t hate me?” Her hope was threatening to spill out of her mouth like vomit as she rubbed the wetness from her cheeks.

“No,” Jensen shook his head. “I love you, more today than yesterday, and more tomorrow than today, and I will love this baby just as much.”

Y/n shook her head before diving into her husband, nuzzling her face into his neck. “I love you too.” 

“Y/n,” Jensen laughed, the sound breathy as it escaped his chest. “We’re having a baby!”

Part 3: 8 Weeks Pregnant 

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @katehuntington​ @lyarr24​ @malfoysqueen14​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ ​ ​ ​  @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

Continues: @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67​ @colbyskoalas​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @deans-baby-momma​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dvnmbabe​ @harryhook-lover​ @let-me-luve-you​ @lunarmoon8​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @parinarain​ @rebelemilu​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @stoneyggirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @traceyaudette​ @zpandaqueen​

[fakeloveaskblog]

Patty have you ever asked Janus to join for dinner when you meet him? Maybe that can somehow help Logan with his flirting? Or at least get Janus more relaxed?

(btw you're adorable ily!!)

(*cracks knuckles* Oh yeah baby we’ve gotten to the angst. Words: 2364 )

Patty: ": D Oh hello lil magical bird who just talked to me! I love you too!! I didn't want to barge in too much into their relationship but now when my honeypie has asked him out once already I guess I can help just a bit!"

Patty had sunglasses on to look like a secret agent. This was an important step in her plan, she swore on it. She sneaked into the open library while chuckling to herself.

She glanced around and almost immediately caught her eye on Janus standing in the reception. She did a few sneaky walks between the bookshelves before sliding up to him.

"Hello Janister!" She greeted with a bright smile while putting her elbows on the reception to lean closer.

"Hiya PatPat. Logan is off helping a customer but he'll be back soon"

"Oh silly I'm not looking for him right now. I am actually here to ask if you could come over to our place tonight. You see I'm planning on making Jambalaya but I always make too much! I'm talking leftovers up to the roof!! But if a third person was there maybe I would be able to make a perfect amount" She lied. She was making jambalaya for Janus purposes alone!

Janus' heartrate shot through the atmosphere "To- me?- your place?- tonight?- I uh- I don't know if I have time-"

She pouted and did her puppy eyes "You sure? You don't have to if you don't want to!! But it would be nice!"

He let out a happy sigh "Sure"

She took his hand and let out a sqeaul "aaah Great! It'll be so fun!!"

---

Logan was leaning down so Patty could help him with his bowtie. "Are you completely sure I look adequate?" He asked.

"Oh honeybee, You look super duper ultra adequate. You're literally wearing a sweater with a math pun on it!!"

"Hmm sound argument. I can not deny the sexiness of math puns"

A knock came on the door. The couple stared at each other. Logan stimmed out of nervousness. Patty gave him a quick kiss before pointing between him and the door. They did a good luck high five.

Logan combed his hair back and leaned on the wall to look cool as he opened the door. Janus stood on the other side looking like a sardine that had just been pressed into a can.

He had on a purple vest with embroidered flowers details and with a long sleeved black button up under. Also a very funky pair of stripped pants with even funkier yellow snake socks under.

"Greetings Jan. You are looking" Like a dream. Like someone he wanted to kiss right this moment. "Very good"

"Aww are you trying to be a snake charmer Log-boy" Janus replied with a smirk.

"I am not a log or a boy. I'm an adult man made out of meat"

"You better be because I'm starving" He had downed 2 shots of vodka before coming to try to and cool his extreme anxiety. He was a lightweight.

Logan lead him into the living room "Are....Are you implying cannibalism?"

Janus shrugged while smiling.

The apartement truly did look like a mismatch of the couple's personalities. The walls were filled with maps of constellations and uplifting cat posters. On the bookshelfs cook books and travel books were stacked next to thick philosophy books and essays. The decorations were either cute porcelain animals, magical anime girl figurines or figurines of characters from Lo's different hyperfixations. The sofa was filled with fluffy blankets and pillows and stuffies were scattered around the light blue carpet filling the living room.

“Do you want to watch star trek while eating?” Logan asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“As long as I get to watch your beautiful face as well” Janus flirted back while doing an unsteady fingergun.

“Oh- Of course” His crush’s sudden forwardness was making his heart flutter.

Janus curled up in the corner of the couch, making himself as small as possible. Logan sat down pretty far away from him.

He started the first episode. Janus had a constant smile on his face as he listened to Logan go between telling him facts and gushing over his favorite moments. All while he could hear Patty in the kitchen half singing along to dad rock.

“Does she want help with that?” Janus, known gentleman and also nervous wreck, asked.

“She’ll tell us if she need it. She likes cooking. I like baking. It usually works out”

Janus got an amused look on his face “You’re into baking? So all those times at work when you brought desserts, that was your making?”

“Yes. And they were delicious. Anything wrong with that?”

“No. No. I simply didn’t take you for the type”

“Well cooking involves creativity and there’s room for your own ideas. Baking doesn’t. It is only about following a structure and doing kitchen chemistry. Of course I love it” He lowered his voice “It is also tremendously good for when you need to flirt without words”

“Oh really? I better start looking up recipes then” He pulled in Logan's bowtie “You have any favorites?” 

In his head he had the guts to say ‘Your lips against mine would be my favorite’ in reality he said “HehuHFKdjf jam drops in the shape of heart. The heart part is important. It adds to the taste”

“It usually does”

Janus slowly looked him up and down. And then he realized what the fuck he was doing. He shot back into his corner of the sofa like a naked rat. Logan sat still with blushing cheeks, staring at the tv but not taking in anything that was happening except his racing heart.

“Done!” Patty exclaimed, coming in with a big ass fucking pot of jambalaya and a just as big bottle of wine.

She saw the nervous state both of the guys were in and quickly made up a plan. She slammed the pot down onto the coffee table and moved the blankets so they took up about half of the couch. Then she sat down using up as much space as possible leaving the guys no choice but to move closer to each other, If both of them sat their hands down they would touch.

Patty cuddled up to her husband with a proud smile on her face. Logan moved his arm around her. 

“It looks great sweetheart” He pressed a kiss to her cheek making her giggle.

“So do you!! And so does mr. star trek captain man!”

 She enjoyed the hell out of her jambalaya while the two idiots sent each other awkward smiles. Janus downed his glass of wine in record speed. (He took it slower with the food, he didn’t want to seem disgusting). 

The whole star trek episode went by. Logan asked Janus a thousand excited questions about how much he liked it. All of his answers made the nerd happy stim. They put on a documentary none of them were really interested in the background while continuing to chat. Patty went on a long epic story about how a kid at her daycare had tried to bite her finger off last week.

“Soooo” Patty sudenly changed the topic. She said it with an innocent tone “My nerdy lil honeypie over here had the biggest crush on Data for a while. It was adorable. ANd while we’re on the topic” The look she gave Janus was happy but it still sent shivers down his spine “You having any crushes lately? Just curious!”

Both of the men internally gasped at the audacity. The gall! The sheer power!! Janus was sweating like a naked rat who had just been clad for the first time.

“...Well.......I have actually been meaning to....Ask about the polyamourous thing?” 

The couple exhanged knowing glances before looking back at him “Mhm yeah Mhm” “I am poly and also a thing so I am an expert in this”

“So...I totally haven’t fallen in love with 3 people. 2 of which I met in the span of around a week”

Patton did a double thumbs up. Logan took a long sip from his wine. “We’re all gossipy bitches here. Tell all about it”

“Well. The first one is Remy-”

“The one with the sunglasses?”

“...Yes...Are....Don’t tell me they’re a serial killer”

Patty broke up into a chuckle “Logie-bogie tried to kiss them while he was drunk once”

“I threw up on their shoes”

“He threw up on their shoes!”

Logan saw the terror in Janus’ face as he worried that maybe 2 of his crushes were exes and quickly added “We are only acquaintance and I was momentarily struck by the impressive lenght of their legs” 

Janus went on to gush about Remy and Remus. Why he loved them. All the dates he had daydreamed about. And then finally his voice was shaking when he mentioned just having a third crush.

Patty let out a long yawn before he could say anything more. She stood up “Well looks like it’s time to snooze! I assume 2 big burly ultra masculine men like you two can handle the dishes”

“It will be a challenge but we shall do our best. Goodnight honey” Logan kissed her.

She leaned in and whispered “Good luck Logie-bear! You got this”

She giggled mischievously while going off into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her. Only the two lovebirds were left now.

“So the third crush? Who’s the lucky gentleman?” Logan asked.

Janus held onto his newly refilled wine glass so hard it nearly cracked. He forced a smile “Wouldn’t you want to hear about the fake couples counseling I go to together with Remus instead?”

“Fake what now?”

“Well me and Remus, who I am hopelessly in love with even though he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, started going to a therapist pretending we were a couple to see how long it would take before he realized we didn’t know each other. He hasn’t realized anything yet. It’s great!”

It looked like Logan’s eyes was about to bulge out of his skull “That sounds illegal. It should be. You are dragging shame onto the face of psychology you double dumbass!”

“I have done nothing wrong ever in my entire life and frankly I deserve to waste even more therapist’s time” Janus replied.

He let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose “Which therapist is it that you’re harassing exactly?”

“Dr. Picani”

Logan’s eyes widened and he shut his lips tightly “Emile Picani?”

“Yes.....Please don’t tell me he’s a serial killer”

He slowly looked away while taking a sip from his wine “I have had intercourse with that man”

Janus choked on his drink. He coughed while staring at his friend with wild eyes “YOU FUCKED MY THERAPIST????”

“No.......He fucked me” Logan replied in a quiet tone. “Besides he’s not even your real therapist”

“He is still a sort of therapist man to me! I told him I enjoy Lana Del Rey. That was a very intimate moment for me!”

“Well I had a very intimate moment with him too”

Janus looked at him with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. He let out a chuckle which turned into a laugh which turned into Logan not being able to not laugh along which turned into the room filling with nothing but flustered happiness and laughter.

Logan grabbed onto his crush’ arm just to have some contact with him while his eyes teared up from laughter. Janus leaned his head against his shoulder and curled up close to him while giggling so much his stomach hurt.

“Oh we’re idiots” Janus sighed.

“We are. We truly are”

They stayed sitting like that. So so close. Logan’s arm around him. Janus breathing being felt against the other man’s skin. Their hands touching. Only comfortable silence surrounded them.

A few minutes went by. Janus looked at him shuly. His thoughts worrying about everything and anything “Should we- ehm- the dishes?”

The moment broke. Logan moved away before standing up “I uh yeah- we should”

It was strange. Just dishing together with his crush made Logan happy. All he could think about was getting to be this close, this domestic, with him every day. Getting to wake up next to him. Kiss his knuckles. Share a morning with him.

“Who was the third crush by the way?” Logan asked, glancing over at his crush.

Janus stared down into the water “I- I can’t say it”

“Understandable”

He stopped and turned fully to look at Janus. He had never been more unsure of where to put his hands before.

“Well I can...Say it I mean....I....I...Janus.....You make me happy just by being near me...You are so wonderful...I....I love you”

Logan couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He took a step forward and cupped Janus’ cheeks. He leaned forward, so close, so close that their noses and foreheads were pressed against each other. It felt like had been starving for this.

Janus froze. His wide eyes stared in shock at the other man. His hand moved up to his chest on instinct, to try and push him away.

Logan noticed his reaction. Of course he did. It was blindingly obvious. He forced himself to move away. He forced the desire to kiss him to simmer out.

“I-I’m sorry-” He mumbled out.

“No....Lo..” Janus took his hand. Holding it so so lightly in his own “I know” He looked up at him “I know. I’m sorry. I should go”

A horrible feeling of guilt filled Logan’s throat “You don’t have to” 

“I should go” He repeated, letting go of his hand.

Logan walked after him as he went to get his jacket “A date. Do you want to go on a date? Not just a hangout. Janus I- I want so badly to be close to you. We could go to the zoo, look at the snakes?”

Janus held his hand on the handle of the door. He didn’t look at Logan “Thanks for having me over”

He left. Logan stood alone in the hallway. His arms hanging helplessly at his sides.

[prouvaireafterdark]

All I See is You

Written for the Joe/Nicky prompt: Naz (Urdu) - assurance/pride in knowing that the other’s love is unconditional and unshakable.

“Come on, it’ll be easy—like Bruges, ’68,” Andy says.

Nicky and Joe share a look. Neither of them has to remind Andy that Bruges, ’68 was considerably different: For one, the seduction was a distraction tactic, not meant for intel gathering, and for another, it was Booker who did the seducing.

***

Joe is asked to seduce someone during a mission, and after nine hundred years of commitment, Nicky isn't even a little bit worried about it.

Also on AO3!

***

Nicky is reading at the kitchen table while Joe chops parsley beside him when Andy walks through the door of their safe house and drops a thick manilla envelope on the wood in front of them.

“What’s this?” Nicky asks, placing a worn leather bookmark between the pages before he sets the book aside.

“A gift from Copley,” she says, plucking an overripe plum out of the fruit basket at the table’s center. Joe sighs when she takes a bite. “What?” she asks, mouth still full.

“You’ll spoil your dinner,” Joe scolds her lightly, pointing his knife in her direction.

Nicky misses the exchange that passes between them, the echo of banter they’ve had a thousand times before grabbing his attention less than the envelope sitting before him. The time they’ve spent lying low in Bergamo since their last job has been wonderful, but he cannot deny that the chance to get back out there and do some good is a welcome one.

“What’s the job?” Nicky asks.

“Human trafficking ring,” Andy answers before taking another bite. Juice runs down her arm, so Nicky reaches for a napkin and hands it to her. She thanks him as she takes it before she looks around and asks, “Where’s Nile?”

“Studying Russian, I think,” Nicky says, looking to Joe for confirmation.

Joe nods before adding, “On the patio.”

When he looks back to Andy, he catches her grinning, though why he cannot say.

“I’ll get her,” she says, already walking toward the back of the house. “We should get started.”

“Can it wait an hour?” Joe interrupts, setting his knife down on the cutting board before he wipes his hands off on the kitchen towel he has thrown over his shoulder. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Andy shakes her head, not looking back as she answers, “We’ll talk while we eat.”

Joe lets out a soft sigh as the back door closes, his hopes of a nice family dinner dashed. Nicky reaches across the table for his hand, the earthy scent of fresh herbs hitting his nose when he presses his lips to his skin.

Joe smiles at him, a soft and tender thing, and Nicky feels a surge of love for him so strong he can’t help but lean forward in his chair to kiss him. Joe meets him eagerly, his hand rising from Nicky’s grip to brush his fingertips along the edge of his jaw.

“Would you like me to set the table?” Nicky asks when they part, his eyes still closed as Joe rests their foreheads together.

He feels the curve of Joe’s smile as he presses his lips to the corner of his mouth.

“Per favore, amore mio,” Joe tells him.

Nicky steals one final kiss before he stands and sets off in search of utensils.

“You want me to do what?” Joe asks, twenty minutes later with a spoonful of tajine halfway to his lips.

Nicky hides his grin in his own steaming bowl. This is going to be an interesting job.

According to Copley’s intelligence, the trafficking operation is run by a man named Victor Cross, who’s so dangerous and well-connected that most witnesses to his crimes clam up the moment the Feds come knocking, and those who don’t tend to wind up dead or vanish before they can reveal anything useful.

Well, almost.

Before an assassin claimed his life, an informant revealed to Copley’s source that Cross keeps meticulous records of all his sordid dealings at his home in Malibu. With those documents in their hands, they could expose his whole operation and save a lot of innocent people.

The catch is that these documents are, predictably, very well-guarded, and a direct assault on his home runs the risk of drawing too much attention, which would likely trigger a failsafe that would destroy the documents before they could be reached. Nicky has faith in their ability to fly under the radar, but with so many lives at stake, scattered in places they don’t yet know, he agrees they should find a safer plan.

Luckily, Copley has a suggestion. Cross appears to have one weakness: his only son Tyler, who just so happens to be throwing an extravagant party for his twenty-fifth birthday at his father’s mansion. Even better, according to his social media activity, he just so happens to be gay and have a strong attraction to older men with dark, mysterious eyes.

Which brings us to Andy telling Joe that he’s going undercover on a honey pot mission this weekend.

“Come on, it’ll be easy—like Bruges, ’68,” Andy says.

Nicky and Joe share a look. Neither of them has to remind Andy that Bruges, ’68 was considerably different: For one, the seduction was a distraction tactic, not meant for intel gathering, and for another, it was Booker who did the seducing.

Andy seems to sense their train of thought, and adds, with a touch of exasperation, “Just look at the kid like he’s Nicky and feed him drinks until he starts talking. Even if he’s not involved, he’s got to have an idea about where exactly Cross would keep those documents and anything else we might need to know about before we try to take them.”

“How do you know he’ll even take the bait?” Joe asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, he will,” Nile pipes up from where she’s been looking over some of the papers Copley sent at the other end of the table. “According to his Twitter, he’s thirsting hard over some actor named Marwan Kenzari. Dude looks just like you.”

She holds up a paper with a screenshot of what must be Tyler’s social media profile. In it, there’s a photo of a handsome, shirtless man who does indeed bear a striking resemblance to Joe. Nicky spots the differences easily though; this man has more muscle definition than Joe does, likely won through a combination of targeted workouts and dehydration, and his beard is cropped much closer to his skin. He also has a small tattoo on his chest, but the picture is too far away from him to read it.

“Huh,” Joe says, leaning in to get a better look. Nicky is so distracted by trying to parse out the meaning of the “Hot Jafar can get itttttttttt #MarwanKenzari” written above the photo that he nearly misses Joe wondering aloud, “Should I shave?”

Nicky lets out a low, mournful sound when Joe’s words catch up with him. The weeks it would take to grow back would be a drop in the bucket of their long, long lives, but Nicky loves the feel of Joe’s beard against his skin and he isn’t prepared to give that up without a fight.

“Va bene, tesoro,” Joe assures him with a wink, sensing Nicky’s thoughts as if they were his own. “Non devo radermi.”

Nicky smiles gratefully at him.

“Anyway,” Andy interrupts. “I’ll infiltrate the catering company to do some recon before the party. Nile, unless you’ve got any objections, you’ll go in as Joe’s plus one to run interference while he pumps Tyler for information. You’ll also be his exit strategy if we need to leave unexpectedly without drawing too much attention.”

“Really?” Nile perks up.

Nicky smiles at her eagerness. “Makes sense,” he tells her. “You’re their age, you’ll fit right in.”

“And Nicolò?” Joe asks.

“Well, Copley can hack into Cross’ CCTV to guide us through the halls when we’re inside, but we’ll need someone keeping an eye on what’s going on outside. You up for it, Nicky?“

He shares a look with Joe, his eyes drawn to the subtle, downward quirk of his lips that tells him he doesn’t love the idea of Nicky being on his own out there. Nicky isn’t surprised to see it—he knows Joe has grown accustomed to being in the sniper’s nest with him to watch his six while Nicky has his attention trained on his scope—but there’s little that can be done about that now, so he nods, dragging his eyes back to Andromache.

“Si. I can set up my rifle here,” Nicky says, pointing to the best vantage point he can see on the satellite photos. “I’ll have a view of the front of the house and the backyard. If anyone suspicious enters or exits the property, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Hey, speaking of cameras: should we be worried about that?” Nile asks. “I’m sure people will be posting pics of everything if the scale of this party is as big as it sounds.”

“With Copley covering our tracks, I think it’s a risk we can afford to take,” Andy says.

“Alright,” Joe says. “When do we leave?”

Before they pack up and head to California, Joe and Nile need new clothes. The next morning, Nicky wakes up extra early to make them coffee before they take a train into Milan.

“Where’s Joe?” Nile croaks, her eyes still weighed down by sleep as she stumbles into the kitchen.

“In the shower,” Nicky answers. “Andy?”

“Still sleeping,” Nile explains.

Nicky nods, recalling that she took the first watch last night. He’ll wake her up in an hour or so, once he finishes packing their belongings for the flight to California.

In the mean time, he pours Nile a cup of coffee from the Moka pot on the stove, the sugar bowl and a small carafe of milk already on the table waiting for her. The moment the smell hits her nose a grateful smile breaks out on her face.

“Bless you,” Nile says, accepting the cup and sliding into a seat at the table.

“Prego,” Nicky says in response before pouring himself one and joining her.

They sip their coffee in silence, until Nile asks suddenly, “Hey, how are you feeling about the plan?”

“Good,” Nicky answers over his cup. “Why, are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” Nile says quickly. “I just thought maybe part of it might bother you.”

“Which part?”

“You know,” she says, like it’s obvious.

Nicky looks at her blankly.

“The part where Joe has to seduce someone and I apparently have to be his wingman?” she says expectantly.

Nicky laughs as understanding sets in, which only seems to confuse Nile further.

“No, I’m not bothered by that,” Nicky answers honestly.

“Really?” Nile asks, sounding surprised. “Why not?”

“Because if there is one thing I can be certain of after a millennium of sharing a life with Yusuf, it is that his heart is mine and mine alone,” Nicky says, feeling the truth of those words as they leave his mouth. “He will do what he must to get the information we need, and afterward he will come to bed with me like he has every night since we first cast our swords aside and allowed ourselves to love each other.”

Nile blinks at him in stunned silence. Nicky smiles as he takes another sip of coffee.

“Damn,” Nile says at last. “You two really invented love, huh?”

“I like to think so,” Joe says as he wanders into the kitchen, his curls still damp from his shower. He looks more alert than he did when Nicky left him in bed, but soft around the edges like he always gets whenever Nicky talks about how much they love each other.

“All lovers do,” Nicky agrees.

That’s certainly what it had felt like that first time they surrendered to their passions, when Nicky was Nicolò di Genova and Joe was Yusuf al-Kaysani and they’d spent the whole night mapping each others bodies with hands and lips and tongues. Each kiss was a revelation, every gasp, moan, and sigh, a shining new discovery, and in that moment, as Yusuf took him into his mouth with the vault of heaven twinkling above them, Nicolò could not have fathomed that anyone else in the history of the world had ever felt so worshipped by another—save perhaps God himself. After nine hundred years of loving this man, of bleeding and dying and living beside him, Nicky is as happy as he is unsurprised to report that he still feels exactly the same way.

Returning Joe’s soft smile, Nicky gets up from his seat to fix him a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. He hears Joe’s footsteps approaching from behind and sighs contentedly when he feels Joe’s hands settle on his waist and his lips brush the back of his neck.

“So I will have no jealousy from you this weekend?” Joe asks, sounding a touch disappointed.

Nicky’s smile grows. “You are a very beautiful man, Yusuf,” he answers, turning in Joe’s arms to hand him his coffee. Joe accepts it and takes a sip as Nicky adds, “If I got angry every time you caught the eye of another, madness would have consumed me centuries ago.”

Joe laughs softly at Nicky’s words and sets his cup back down on the counter.

“Do you hear this?” Joe asks incredulously, throwing a look at Nile over his shoulder. “My Nicolò flatters me too much.”

“No,” Nicky disagrees with a fond smile. “I speak only the truth.”

Joe’s eyes soften before he leans in to kiss him, slow and wet and so very distracting. Nicky sighs into the kiss when he feels the warmth of Joe’s palm against the side of his neck, keeping him still as he licks into his mouth, bitter notes of coffee on his tongue.

“Oh my god,” he hears Nile mutter to herself before her chair scrapes against the broken tile. “Y’all are too much. I’m gonna grab my shoes and then we have a train to catch, Joe.”

Joe hums in acknowledgement, but only presses Nicky back into the counter more firmly once Nile’s footsteps fade. Nicky gasps as tendrils of heat stoke low in his belly, but he manages to find the will to put his hands flat against Joe’s chest and ease him back. Joe looks betrayed when he does it, but there’s a brightness in his eyes that tells Nicky he’s only teasing.

“As much as I want to keep kissing you, Nile is right,” Nicky says, knocking their noses together. “You have a train to catch.”

“I know,” Joe says, raking his fingers through Nicky’s sleep-tousled hair, “but you are just so tempting first thing in the morning, I don’t know how you expect me to resist you.”

Heat sparks inside Nicky once more as Joe’s nails scrape gently against his scalp, and his eyes slip closed, his own self-control dangling by a thread. They’d been too tired to have sex last night and Nicky curses their former selves for not taking advantage of each other while they had the time.

Nicky’s eyes flit back down toward the smug curve of Joe’s mouth, but before he can make a questionable decision, the door to Nile’s bedroom creaks open.

“Ready?” she asks.

“Yeah, just a sec,” Joe says, and for a moment, Nicky thinks Joe is going to kiss him again, but instead he reaches for the cup of coffee he left on the counter. He drains it in one go before he steps aside to place it in the sink, leaving Nicky unpleasantly cold without the heat of his body to warm him.

“Thank you for the coffee, habibi,” he says, dropping a kiss on Nicky’s cheek as he passes him. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Of course,” Nicky says, offering Joe a smile as he folds his arms across his chest. “Have fun in Milano.”

“Without you?” Joe asks, shooting him a look over his shoulder. “Never.”

The next night finds them at a hotel in Malibu, not far from Cross’ mansion. Nicky reclines on the bed he’ll share with Joe tonight if all goes well, dressed head to toe in black, while Joe gets ready for the party in their ensuite.

Nicky is resting his eyes when the bathroom door swings open.

“How do I look?” Joe asks as he steps into the room. Nicky pushes himself up onto his elbows to see, swallowing as his eyes travel the length of him.

Joe’s suit is of Italian make and exceptional quality, its rich burgundy hue eye-catching without being garish. The button down beneath is crisp and white, in stark contrast to the plain black bowtie that circles his neck. As he adjusts his cufflinks, Nicky’s eyes catch on the silver rings glinting on his fingers and the expensive watch on his wrist—a gift Nicky picked up for him the last time they were in Geneva. He looks like sin standing there, the well-tailored fabric clinging to his waist and thighs in a way that would have sent Nicky to his knees were he not already lying down.

“Bellissimo,” Nicky answers, and when Joe smiles brightly in response, Nicky beckons him closer with a gesture, unable to stop himself from playfully adding, “Tyler will not be able to resist.”

Joe scoffs and continues his approach toward the bed.

“And you?” he asks, eyes darkening as he pushes Nicky gently back until he’s lying against the mattress again. “Could you resist me?”

Nicky lets his thighs fall open in answer as Joe moves to settle in the cradle of his hips. The moment Nicky feels the solid weight of him rest between his thighs, Joe rolls his hips forward, a tease that pulls a soft moan from Nicky’s lips. Joe stifles the sound with his mouth as he moves in for a greedy kiss, nipping Nicky’s bottom lip between his teeth before soothing the bite with his tongue.

It never ceases to amaze Nicky that, after all the lifetimes they’ve lived, Joe’s kisses still have the power to steal his breath and make his heart pound against his ribs, that they still feel so fucking good. Nicky melts against him, any coherent thoughts that remain slipping away with every press of Joe’s mouth against his, leaving him dizzy and warm and utterly lost in the feel of Joe’s tongue delving into his mouth and his beard brushing against his skin.

It’s not until Joe snakes a hand between them to rub against Nicky’s rapidly hardening cock through the thick fabric of his tactical pants that Nicky remembers they have a job to do.

Nicky pulls away from Joe’s mouth with a soft gasp, but Joe just fits his mouth against the side of his neck instead as he continues to palm him through his clothes.

“We will be late,” Nicky pants, reaching down to cover Joe’s hand with his own—to stop him or urge him on, he isn’t quite sure.

“It’s a party,” Joe mumbles before tugging the neckline of Nicky’s shirt down with his free hand to suck a fleeting mark onto his collarbone. “We’re meant to be late.”

“You’re going to wrinkle your suit,” he tries weakly.

“I don’t mind,” Joe counters, unbuckling Nicky’s belt. Nicky makes no move to stop him as he unzips his pants and gets a hand on his cock, his thumb swiping through the pre-come gathering at the tip. It occurs to Nicky that Joe better be careful if he doesn’t want a stain on his new suit. He opens his mouth to say so, but Joe must sense his thoughts because before he can speak, he adds, “Don’t worry. I’ll finish you off with my mouth so you don’t make a mess.”

“Oh?” Nicky asks, flushing at the thought even as he teases, “Do you think Tyler will be able to tell where your mouth has been when he kisses you?”

Joe groans and sinks his teeth into Nicky’s skin, making him gasp as a heady mix of pleasure and pain washes over him. He moves up toward Nicky’s ear then, tracing the path up his neck with his tongue.

“Would you like that?” Joe asks in a low whisper before he nips his earlobe between his teeth, his hand still working Nicky’s cock in steady strokes. “For him to taste you on my tongue and know that I am yours, body and soul?”

Nicky lets out a shuddering breath and rolls his hips into Joe’s touch.

“Would you?” Nicky asks.

Before Joe can answer, there’s a sudden, harsh knock at the door, startling them both.

“Joe? Nicky? We’ve gotta leave in like ten minutes so make yourselves decent,” Nile calls from behind the wood before her footsteps quickly retreat.

Joe huffs in disappointment.

Nicky cannot help but share the feeling when Joe releases his cock, leaving it hard and aching against his belly. Just as he’s resigning himself to jerking off while Joe finishes getting ready, he feels Joe start to pull his pants down his thighs.

“Joe?” Nicky asks, the question obvious on his lips.

“We still have nine minutes,” Joe explains, shuffling down his body until Nicky can feel his breath on the tip of his cock.

“That’s not much time,” Nicky comments, reaching down to cup Joe’s cheek.

“It’s enough,” Joe says, pressing a kiss to his palm, and before Nicky can even think to argue, he leans down to lick a long stripe up his shaft, from base to tip.

Joe seals his lips over the leaking head of Nicky’s cock when he reaches it, sucking at it softly in that way that drives Nicky mad. He hums at the taste before taking him deeper, eager to make the most of their time. Nicky has to bite down on his lower lip to stifle a cry, his hips twitching forward to push himself deeper into the welcoming, wet heat of Joe’s mouth.

Nicky’s eyes stay fixed on those plush pink lips, watching his thick cock disappear between them again and again and again, the tip edging closer to the back of Joe’s throat with every bob of his head over Nicky’s lap. It’s a sight he’s seen countless times before, but it never fails to make the liquid heat pooling in his belly simmer to a boil, and Nicky is writhing against the mattress in no time at all.

Joe anchors his arm across Nicky’s hips to keep him from moving too much, and the confining pressure somehow turns Nicky on even more. Nicky squirms in Joe’s hold as he keeps working his cock just the way he likes it, the movements second nature after nearly a millennium of practice—Joe knows just when to take Nicky deep into his throat, when to slide his fist up and down his length while he gives the flushed head a little more attention, and, finally, when to slip his hand between Nicky’s thighs to rub slow, agonizing circles into his perineum until Nicky doesn’t have a prayer of keeping quiet anymore.

Nicky moans high in his throat at every pass of Joe’s fingers against his prostate, the pleasure mounting inside of him making his thighs tremble. His orgasm is so close he can taste it, and Joe must sense it too because when Nicky locks eyes with him again, he slides his cock deeper into his throat and presses his fingers more firmly into his perineum.

Nicky cries out as his orgasm hits, his cock pulsing between Joe’s lips as he fills his mouth with come. Joe swallows every drop, humming as his hand continues pumping his shaft, wringing every drop of pleasure from him that he can.

He lies there boneless as he comes back down, his chest heaving with every breath. His eyes slip closed as Joe tucks him away in his tactical pants, and a moment later he feels it when Joe climbs up the bed to seek out Nicky’s mouth with his own.

Joe crowds him even closer against the bed, and Nicky offers no resistance as Joe deepens the kiss, relishing the taste of himself on his tongue with a quiet moan. The weight of Joe on top of him is more than welcome, and when Joe’s hips roll instinctively against his stomach, he can feel how hard he still is. Without a second thought, Nicky reaches between them and unzips Joe’s pants.

“Do we have time?” Joe asks as Nicky pulls him out through his underwear and licks his palm.

“Ti importa?” Nicky asks, rucking his own t-shirt up to expose his stomach.

Joe huffs a laugh against his lips. “Credo di no,” he says before Nicky feels his lips on his once more.

Nicky swallows the precious sounds Joe makes as he jerks him off, fast and rough. Between how worked up he got sucking Nicky off and the adrenaline coursing through him as Nile’s ten minutes wear thin, it doesn’t take long—it must be barely three minutes before Joe grunts and spills over Nicky’s fist, painting the pale skin of his belly with streaks of white.

As soon as he comes, Nicky pushes him gently to the side so he won’t collapse right into the mess he’s made and reaches for a tissue on the bedside table. Joe pants beside him in a post-orgasm daze while Nicky cleans himself up with practiced efficiency before putting Joe’s cock back in his trousers.

“I didn’t get any on me, right?” Joe asks a moment later, still sounding winded.

“No, tesoro,” Nicky answers after he gives him a once-over. “Your suit is clean for now.”

“Good,” Joe sighs in relief, and then raises his head to look at Nicky as he asks, “Wait, ‘for now’?”

Nicky only raises an eyebrow coyly in response. Joe laughs and rolls onto his side to kiss him.

By the time they pull themselves out of bed and into their hotel suite’s living room, their ten minutes are long over.

They find Nile waiting on the couch, dressed head to toe in a sparkling gold gown and playing a game on her phone. She looks surprised to see them when she glances up.

Nicky is about to apologize for their tardiness and unprofessionalism when she says, “Huh. Thought you’d be in there at least another ten minutes.”

“We can come back later if you like,” Joe quips, but Nicky’s still stuck on his confusion.

“I thought you said we had to leave in ten minutes,” he says, head tilting to one side.

“I lied,” she answers simply.

The thought that their sweet, innocent Nile would lie is somewhat scandalizing, and Joe and Nicky share a look.

“Oh, come on, don’t be so surprised,” Nile says, sounding amused as she stands up and brushes the fabric of her dress down her thighs. “Joe looks stupid hot in that suit and you two are the most predictable people I’ve ever met, immortal or not. If I told you thirty minutes, I’d be sitting here for an hour.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Nicky says at the same time Joe asks, “You think I’m hot?”

Nicky laughs and nudges Joe with his shoulder. “Save your flirting for the mark, Joe,” he says.

“If you insist,” Joe sighs. “Though I’d rather save it for you.”

Nicky smiles, ignoring Nile’s dramatic sigh in the background.

“Can we go now?” she asks. “This guy’s burn book isn’t gonna steal itself.”

“Si,” Nicky says, and goes to grab the rifle case he left sitting on the table.

“I just have one question,” Joe asks.

“Yeah, okay, what’s up?” Nile asks, pausing by the door.

“What’s a burn book?”

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch3: What Happens in Vegas...

Summary: We catch up with what Fliss got up to whilst Frank was living it up in Vegas, before they both face up to the events of the weekend, because this time what happened in Vegas certainly doesn’t stay there…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 2

Just when it seems like everything’s evened out, and the balance seems serene, see the fool I’ll be, still running ‘round on the flesh rampage.

“Hey!” Fliss greeted Bonnie as she walked over to where the woman was supervising the after school club.

“Hiya!” Bonnie smiled “You heard from Frank today?”

“Yeah, before.” Fliss smiled, before she looked and Bonnie “I gotta say, that video of Simon…”

“He’s an idiot.” Bonnie shook her head “Punching his own reflection…I mean…”

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s probably the funniest thing I’ve seen in ages.” Fliss giggled and Bonnie snorted, shaking her head again. At that point Mary came running over, her cheeks pink

“Hey Lissy.” “Hey sweetheart, you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I got a surprise for you!”

“Me?”

“Yup!”

“Where is it?”

“We gotta go pick it up.”

“Oh, ok…bye Miss Stevenson!”

“See you Mary!” Bonnie smiled as she started to head off to Fliss’ car “Hey, give me a call…we can do lunch Sunday before the boys get back.”

“Sure.” Fliss nodded. “I’ll text you.”

With a final goodbye she headed after Mary and climbed into the driver’s side.

“Where’s Thor?” Mary asked.

“He’s at Mum and Dad’s with Rupert and Fred.” she said, “I thought after our surprise we could stay there for the weekend, use the pool and the Cinema Room…”

“Ok…” Mary looked at her suspiciously.

“I promise you’re gonna like it!”

“Just tell me.” Mary looked at her as Fliss set off driving.

“Sure you wanna know?”

“You’re as bad as Frank.” The girl rolled her eyes and Fliss laughed.

“We’re going to pick Steve up from the airport.”

Mary’s face split into a huge grin, it was a well-known fact that besides Bill, Fliss’ brother was basically her favourite person that wasn’t Frank on the planet.

“Uncle Steeby is coming to stay?” she looked at Fliss.

“Yup for a whole month. He has some work in Orlando and Tampa so he’s gonna be staying in town for a while, and then in Easter Sian and the twins are flying over.”

“Oh man!” Mary grinned, laying her head back on the seat “This is great!”

Mary’s excitement seemed to increase the nearer they got to the Airport, and Fliss had to practically hold her down in the seat as she parked the car, telling her to wait a second. Once she’d managed to park they headed into the arrivals lounge and little after 15 minutes later her brother appeared, towing his suitcase behind him.

“Hey Stack!” he grinned as Mary flung herself at him and he swept her up in a hug “How’s it hanging?” “Same old, same old!” she grinned and he let out a laugh before he placed her down and turned to Fliss.

“Oh my God!” he smiled as Fliss walked over to him “Look at you!”

She laughed “I know…” with a nod she looked down “Nothing until 16 weeks and then wham…now I feel like it’s getting bigger every day.”

He pulled her into his arms and gave her the usual bear hug before the three of them headed out to the car. On the way back to the house, Steve filled Fliss in on what exactly he was doing. The construction company he owned was in the running for a very big job in Orlando building a complete village of holiday villas not far from Lake Buena Vista. As such he was out here to meet a few people and attend the Bidders Conference, whilst also taking a look at some potential office buildings in Lakeland.

“If we win this tender Fliss, it’s going to be huge.” he smiled at her “We’re talking millions.”

“That’s great.” she smiled “You’ve really blown it up since Dad handed over the reins, I’m really pleased for you!”

“I got lucky.”

“No, it was hard work.” Fliss glanced at him.

“Frank says you make your own luck.” Mary added.

“See!” Fliss grinned at her brother. “So, would you guys move out here or…”

“I’m tempted.” he said, “As with anything, I’ll need a project team who can oversee the local suppliers and labour that type of thing, manage the schedules and what not…but our head offices will still be in Liverpool, so I’m undecided. Either way I’ll be spending a lot more time here, certainly in the first 12 months whilst it all gets up and running.”

“How does Sian feel about it?”

“She’s excited. She knows what it means to me, to the business. Obviously she realises it means more time apart as I’ll be out here quite often but…”

“Is it selfish of me to be happy about that?” Fliss smiled and Steve laughed.

“Nope, because we all know I’m the best big brother in the world.”

Fliss grinned and shook her head as Mary began to enthusiastically talk to Steve about school and University and the Girl Scout group she was in. Fliss interjected whenever she needed to but other than that she was happy to let the two of them chat away.

Once home Steve headed over to the Annex where he would be staying whilst Mary went outside to play with the dogs, Fred happy to oversee things from his spot on a chair on the large decking platform which-over looked the pool area. Steve appeared an hour or so later having showered and changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, Fliss grinning at him, calling him a tourist. Whilst it wasn’t cold by cold standards, she found it chillier having grown used to the blazing heat of the summer. Steve, who had come from the chilly early spring in England, simply rolled his eyes and handed her the box he had in his hand.

“It’s a present from me and Sian.” he smiled.

Fliss glanced down and smiled at the selection box of Pukka Tea bags.

“Steeby this is great!” she beamed “I’ve been struggling to find them out here since Sian recommended them.”

She gently opened the box and glanced at the various herbal teas. There were 12 different flavours such as Peppermint and Liquorice, Ginger and Manuka Honey, Chamomile and Rose to name but a few. There was even a handwritten note inside from Sian, explaining which ones had helped her with various symptoms she felt during her pregnancy. She closed the purple and gold box and looked up at Steve, tears in her eyes.

“Hey, come on Titch!” he laughed as she fell into his arms, chuckling herself at her ridiculous tears “It’s just tea bags.” “It’s really thoughtful, thank you.” she stepped back, wiping her eyes “Fucking hormones.” Steve chuckled, rubbing her back slightly before she turned and began pulling the rest of the stuff out for dinner.

“Wanna help?” she asked.

“You really want me to?” He smirked “I’ve still not forgot the time we made brownies and set fire to the curtains at the Farm house.” “Ok, first off those curtains were rank, as Mum said when Dad came home and hit the roof, second off, they were pot brownies and we were already stoned after smoking a load! Cooking and being high do not mix.”

Steve laughed “God, poor Mum didn’t know what to do. Came home, found us both on the floor eating them, with burnt curtains hanging at the window.” “She knew we were stoned, she told me.” Fliss grinned, handing Steve a knife “Said she lied to dad that it had been her to get us off the hook.” “Well that didn’t work because Dad told me he knew full well it was us. He made me pay for the new curtains and told me that if I ever let you smoke that stuff again he was going to beat me within an inch of my life.” Fliss laughed “He was so full of shit, he never raised a hand to either of us. Never would either.” “No, but the threat was there. Even if I was 22 at the time, scared the shit out of me.”

“Thankfully we both grew up since then, huh?” Fliss shrugged, as she grabbed a chopping board to start carving up the meat for the tacos.

“Hmmm, debatable.” Steve nudged her. “Although I can safely say I haven’t done weed since the twins were born…as tempting as it was at times.”

“I can’t remember the last time I did.” Fliss mused “Was certainly before I moved to Boston.” “Frankie boy not dabble every now and then?”

“Nope.” Fliss said “He doesn’t smoke and says the last time he did pot it made him pull a whitey so he steers clear. Hardest thing he does now is Bourbon.” “Huh…” Steve mused “I had him pegged as a bit of wild one…” “He’s not.” Fliss shook her head “I mean he cuts loose when we go out, and I dread to think about the states he’s gonna be in this weekend but…” she shrugged “He’s well adjusted, sensible, level headed…can be a bit of a child at times but, show me a man who isn’t?” Steve shot her a look and she chuckled.

“So, how is he?” Steve asked. “Seems like ages since I spoke to him.” “He’s good.” Fliss smiled “His work is going well. He’s really excited about the baby.” her hand dropped to her bump. “We’re gonna start looking for houses now our landlord had said he won’t hold us to our contract. Frankie wants to move as soon as we can so he can get a nursery ready but I’m not bothered. Not like we’ll need the extra space really until a few months after it’s born.”

“You’d be surprised.” Steve raised an eyebrow “Babies accumulate a lot of stuff…” “Well, we’ll manage either way.” Fliss shrugged “Most important thing is they’re safe and happy. We can figure the rest out as we go.” “You gonna buy or…” “Hopefully.” Fliss nodded “With work and stuff now we shouldn’t have a problem borrowing now but, I don’t know, we’re going to look into it properly once Jake’s wedding is out of the way in a few weeks.”

Steve nodded and took a deep breath “You know, I wasn’t sure about you two at first, not because I didn’t like Frank, I did, I mean I do but, well, I just thought after Dickhead that you needed time to heal and find yourself again.” Fliss looked at him as he chewed the inside of his lip before he turned to her. “But then when I saw you again after your first Christmas together and then over the Easter…I dunno, you just…”

Fliss smiled and looked down, shrugging “I might have healed in a lot of ways before I met Frank but I was still broken Steeb. Finding my way in a new relationship was hard work, it was daunting…I constantly found myself automatically doing things I did with or for John…like you know the first time Frank ever stayed over, in the morning I just got up and was about to make him coffee and he was so puzzled by it.” she shrugged “that could have been so awkward but Frank…well, he didn’t let it feel that way. Simply told me to stay the fuck in bed.” “Don’t wanna know.” Steve pulled a face and Fliss laughed.

“Joking aside, I know it used to bother him because it was almost like on a subconscious level I was comparing the two of them but he never once lost his temper, not really anyway, other than to tell me to stop putting him on a pedestal for being fucking normal…his words, not mine.” she said, framing them in quotation marks with her fingers. “He just gets it. He gets me.” “You finished with the sales pitch?” Steve asked her and she narrowed her eyes at him as he laughed “You don’t need to convince me Titch, I like the guy, I just wasn’t sure you were in the right place but it's obvious he helped you get there.” Fliss smiled.

“And Mum and Dad worship the ground he walks on.” Steve shrugged “Like seriously…”

“Awww you jealous?” Fliss teased and Steve turned, pointing the small knife he was holding at her.

“Behave.” he smirked and Fliss laughed.

“I know what you mean though…whenever we argue they’re both like ‘you need to stop being so hard on him, Lissy’.” She snorted.

“Well, to be fair, you are a little bit…” Steve shrugged “Oh, I dunno, a bit of a pain in the ass at times.” “Fuck you.” she sniggered, as Steve chuckled and once again looked down at her.

“I’m glad you found him. You deserve to be happy.” Fliss smiled, and let her brother give her another hug before she instructed him to get on with his allocated job of dicing onions if they wanted any chance of eating this side of summer. Between the two of them, they had dinner ready in half an hour and the three of them ate inside at the large kitchen table. It wasn’t long after they finished that Frank Face timed. After a conversation with Mary, instructing her once more to behave, she handed the phone to Fliss who smiled at her man and excused herself for a little while so she could go talk to him in private. He told her they were off to play poker, promised he wouldn’t gamble Bean and Mary’s inheritance away, before he apologetically said he needed to go and promised he would message her later, despite her insistence that he didn’t need to keep checking in.

The siblings and Mary, plus animals migrated to the lounge of the villa as Steve yawned, desperately trying to keep himself awake as long as possible to counteract the time difference between Florida and their home in the North West of England. He ended up helping himself to a healthy shot of Bill’s 12 year old Single Malt as Fliss had an apple juice mixed with lemonade, the 2 of them on the couch, the foot stools of the recliners in front of them whilst Mary led on the rug, playing on her computer.

At one point she let out a snigger, and Fliss looked at her suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Frank before told me to stop doing maths and do something else…so I’m googling.” she shrugged.

“Googling what?”

“Random pregnancy facts…did you know the longest pregnancy ever recorded was 375 days?”

“What?” Fliss spluttered “That’s over a year!”

Mary grinned “and the shortest was 21 weeks and four days…both babies survived.”

Steve looked at Fliss, chuckling to himself as he took a drink of his scotch.

“Woah, your heart grows bigger too…” Mary said, “and your blood volume increases by 40-50%. That’s pretty cool.”

“No wonder you get fat…” Steve mused and Fliss picked up a cushion, hitting him in the face with it.

“And your voice can change!” Mary looked up at Fliss “Says here that it can get lower…” she studied her for a second before she nodded “Talk to me…” “What do you want me to say?” Fliss asked, dropping her voice deliberately and Mary shook her head, rolling her eyes.

“You’re doing a Frank…” she sing songed.

“Doing a Frank?” Steve looked at his sister.

“Code for being an idiot.” Fliss smiled.

“You’re 18 weeks right?” Mary continued.

“Yeah”

“It says here that’s the time the baby can hear sounds…but it gets more responsive at 25-26 weeks…” she paused “Have you felt Bean move yet?”

“No.” Fliss shook her head, “but apparently for your first baby it’s not uncommon for you not to feel it until after 20 weeks.”

“Huh, they call it quickening…” Mary mused then she grinned “I can’t wait to feel it kicking you.”

“Gee thanks Stack…” Fliss looked at her as Steve let out a loud laugh

“I bloody love this kid!” he grinned and Mary smiled back.

*****

Saturday flew by. Fliss had lessons all day at the yard, Mary hanging around to help Joanne with various tasks before she herself got to ride Monty. She was now fully walking, trotting and cantering off the line competently, so when she asked Fliss if they could try a little jump, seeing as Frank wasn’t there to shit himself Fliss agreed.

Joanna set the cross poles up, leaving the jump at less than half a foot high, but it was enough for what they wanted to do.

“Ok…so…” Fliss said, nudging the ground pole with her foot. “We’re going to just trot him at this for the time being, so when he steps over this pole you have a count of one before he is going to take off. So you need to stand up… and fold forward slightly, giving him the reins. Show me.” Mary obediently stood up, and Fliss moved to help her adjust her legs so they didn’t fling too far back.

“Ok, good…” Fliss nodded. “Joanna’s gonna lead you over the first few times ok, and if you feel like you’re losing your balance then grab hold of this bit at the bottom of his mane. It won’t hurt him, I promise.” “OK, I’m ready…” Mary nodded.

“Alright…” Fliss said, stepping back. Joanna led Monty away, before they picked up trot and ran at the small jump.

“Get ready to fold!” Fliss instructed Mary, as she approached the pole. Doing exactly as she was told Mary leaned forward as Monty took off from the ground and landed perfectly after the jump. Mary sat back up and looked over her shoulder at the jump then to Fliss who gave her the thumbs up.

“Woah, did you see that?” Mary grinned, and Fliss nodded.

“Sure did!” she laughed. “Go again?”

Mary nodded eagerly and Joanna laughed. “Well done kiddo!”

They repeated this 5 or 6 times more before Fliss asked Mary if she wanted to try on her own. Never one to back down she nodded so Joanne unclipped the line and Mary trotted Monty around in a circle before she came at the jump.

“Ok, sit up and look straight between his ears at where you’re going.” Fliss said “Don’t look down…” Mary approached the jump and Fliss held her breath, but needn’t have bothered. Monty, ever the pro took Mary over the poles easily and stopped a few strides at the other side, Mary letting out an excited yell.

“I did it!”

Fliss gave her a huge smile.

“Can we film it and send it to Frank?”

“Damned straight we can!” Fliss grinned, “Do it again.”

She pulled her phone out, filmed Mary once again jumping and then turned her phone off, slipping into her pocket as Mary rode Monty back over.

“That was amazing!” the little girl was beaming ear to ear.

Fliss nodded “Yeah, it was. You did really well Stack. You wanna walk him off now then and we can feed and go home?” Mary nodded as she turned Monty away to let him walk around the outside of the paddock. With a smile she grabbed her phone and sent the footage to Frank. He replied a few minutes later with a load of wide mouthed emojis accompanied by the words “Jesus Christ, what did I say about keeping all 4 legs on the ground?”

“Oh hush Sailor!” she replied “She loved it. Now don’t forget I want a photo of you and Greg in those suits before you go out.” “Yes ma’am…now by my watch it must be nearly 6pm there. Take Mary and Bean home and get some rest.”

Rolling her eyes she responded about him being bossy to which he replied he was entitled to be as she was carrying his kid. A few more jokey messages were shared before Fliss promised to go home and Frank said he would talk to her later.

They grabbed a pizza on the way back and once more joined Steve for dinner, the 3 of them sitting in Bill’s large cinema room later watching Avengers-Age of Ultron. Before it had finished Fliss fell asleep, to be woken by Steve at the end of the film, Mary laughing at her as she groaned and stretched out.

“Sorry!” she grinned and Steve snorted.

“She falls asleep all the time.” Mary laughed “Frank said the baby is like a parasite, sucking all her energy.”

“A parasite?” Fliss snorted indignantly, her hand falling to her bump “You hear that Bean, that’s your dad saying that. Rude…”

“He isn’t wrong though.” Steve laughed. “Sian used to refer to our two as the bloodsuckers.” Shaking her head Fliss stood up and looked at Mary, “Bed, come on. You’re out with Roberta tomorrow.” “Anywhere nice?” Steve asked Mary.

“Just to the beach.” came the reply. “I haven’t seen her in a while so we’re gonna go watch the surfing competition. Roberta likes the shorts the men wear.”

“Sure she does.” Steve smirked, laughing.

“Some of them are brighter than Frank’s shirts.” Mary mused, causing Steve to laugh harder.

They bid him goodnight, getting ready for bed before Fliss tucked Mary in and went to the spare room. She fell asleep not long after but was woken early Sunday morning with a desperate need to pee. Once sorted she text her phone to find a very drunk text from Frank, declaring he loved her and couldn’t wait for Bean to arrive and for them to get married. She shook her head, glancing at the time, it was almost 4 am meaning it was 1am in Vegas. Smiling as she replied half asleep herself, telling him to maybe think about drinking water instead of any more alcohol, she turned over and closed her eyes.

***** Frank sat dumbfounded, his entire body rigid as the person next to him in the bed let out a sigh, and then a deep groan before a head emerged from under the covers.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Frank exhaled and let out a groan as Simon looked at him “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, technically this is my room, jerk.” Simon said, blinking “What year is it?

“You scared the shit out of me.” Frank took a deep breath “I thought…”

“You thought you left with the blonde?” Simon peeked up at him “Nah, man. Mind you, wasn’t for her lack of trying. She was all over you. Eventually you told her to fuck off. You were quite rude actually.” Frank let out a sigh, his head falling back against the head board.

Simon sighed turning over, before he peered under the covers. “For the love of- Frank you’re naked.” “I’m aware of that.” Frank groaned.

“Fucking hell…” Simon grimaced, before he rolled out of bed “I’m going for a pee. Put some clothes on.”

Once Simon was in the bathroom he climbed out of bed, his head still spinning as he found his clothes in a pile on the floor. Shoving on his boxers and shirt he looked around the room to see an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and a pizza box on the table.

“Where the hell did we go?” He asked Simon as he walked back into the room. “Don’t ask me.” Simon looked at him, falling face down on the bed. “I know we took Greg back to your room…”

“We did?”

“Yeah he was wasted.” Simon nodded, rolling over as Frank flopped back on the bed. “He could hardly walk so the bouncers asked us to take him out of the club. We threw him in your room then…we must have gone back out…hang on…”

With a herculean effort, Simon pushed himself up and found his phone. After a brief scan his eyes widened and he snorted.

“Look.”

He turned the phone round to Frank, who saw a selfie of him and Simon in front of a face down Greg in the hotel room. Simon then began to flick through.

“Oh, ok so we went to a liquor store…” he turned the phone round to show Frank a blurry photo of a shop front “Don’t ask me why I took that and oh my god!”

“What?” Simon pressed play and a load of cheering and singing hit their ears as they watched footage of a small man dressed as a leprechaun dancing in the hotel foyer, Frank on his knees in front of him, laughing.

“I literally have no memory of that…at all.” Frank shook his head.

“Looks like we called Bonnie as well…” Simon snorted “If this angry text message that I got at 3 am is anything to go by.”

“Oh fuck.” Frank hastily reached for his phone, which really didn’t have a lot of battery left, and he hastily scanned his calls. There were none to Fliss, but he had sent her a message. According to her reply she’d been up to use the toilet, so that was ok.

His phone illuminated then with two messages. One from Fliss asking him if he was hungover, as he deserved to be, and another from Greg asking him where the fuck he was. Deciding to reply to Greg first, as he could picture the man stressing he tapped out a quick reply informing him not to worry, he’d be back at the room as soon as he’d managed to dress himself, which at the moment thanks to his head was proving a little difficult, before he replied to Fliss saying he was indeed hungover and he needed to crawl into a hole and die and as ever, reminded her he loved her.

No sooner had he sent it, she was calling him.

“That was quick…” he mumbled, before answering it. “Hey, honey…” “So, wanna tell me exactly where and what you were doing that requires you to get dressed before you go back to your room?” Her voice was steely.

Shit. He had sent the messages to the wrong people.

“Lissy, it’s not what you think.” He instantly began.

“Oh, you have no IDEA what I’m thinking!” her voice grew louder

“No, listen…I’m with Simon.” He chuckled.

“You think this is funny?” She sniffed and Frank grimaced.

“Baby, stop.” He sighed “Look, we ended up back at his room and I passed out here. That message was meant for Greg as he was asking me where I was. Instead he now has a message saying I’m hungover to fuck and that I love him.”

She was silent and he could hear her on the other end of the line rustling something before she spoke again in a quiet voice “So you weren’t with anyone else?”

“No, Sweetheart I wasn’t. Why would I want to be huh? Most beautiful girl in the world waiting for me at home.” At that Simon let out a retching noise “God you make me want to puke, Adler.” “Oh fuck off Si you dick.” He shot back.

“Hey, Fliss.” Simon leaned over to speak down the phone, grabbing Frank’s wrist to stop him moving it. “Now you, Bonnie and me have all seen Frank nekkid...”

“I swear to God I’m gonna punch you in a minute.” Frank mumbled, jerking his arm out of Simon’s reach and pushing him so hard he rolled over and fell off the side of the bed. Frank let out a laugh as Simon groaned and a hand appeared in the air, flipping him off.

“He knows about you and Bonnie?”

“Apparently so.” Frank mused

“So anything else you wanna tell me about what you got up to? Other than naked spooning Si?”

Frank laughed “We found a dancing leprechaun.”

“A dancing leprechaun?” “Yeah, in the hotel somewhere.”

“Standard.” she giggled “So, are you ready to come home now you’ve spent the last few days acting like overgrown frat boys?

“Yes, I’m more than ready to leave Aldrich Whitaker behind”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“My alter ego for last night. He’s a trust fund ass hole.” Frank grinned.

There was a pause before she replied, snorting “Whatever.”

At that point his phone gave him a bleep to tell him he was dangerously low on battery power. “Look, baby, my phones gonna die. I’ll call you when I get it charged ok?”

“Yeah, sure, hey Frankie, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.” She apologised softly.

“It’s okay, I’m not surprised after that message.”

“Yeah but still…” she paused “Can I blame the hormones?”

“If you want.”

“In that case it was totally them.”

He chucked “ Hormones or not, I love you.”

“Love you too sailor”

With that his phone cut off and he glanced down at it, the screen blank as the power had gone. He dropped it on the bed, before leaning back again, his hand against his forehead.

“I’m NEVER coming to Vegas again”

“Oh you not fancy it for your Batchelor party then? Simon teased as he threw Frank a bottle of water from the mini bar.”

“The fuck I do.” Frank shook his head.

*****

“I’d like to say I’m surprised but…” Bonnie shrugged as Fliss snorted, taking a drink of her apple juice from the carton as they walked back to their cars in the setting sun. They’d had dinner at one of the beach bars and stayed simply chatting for half an hour or so, but now Fliss was now ready to head home, shower and bunker down for the rest of the evening until Frank came home.

“I knew he’d end up paralytic.” Fliss said, watching as Mary wandered back towards them, huge ice cream in her hand. “Stack that’s bigger than your head.”

Mary shrugged, handing Fliss her change “It’s good though.” “Mint choc chip?”

“Yup.” she grinned, taking a huge lick. “When’s Frank back?”

“He lands into Tampa in about 4 hours.” Fliss looked at her “Why, you fed up of me already?”

“No, just thinking how peaceful it’s been without him annoying me.”

Fliss grinned and Bonnie gave a chuckle.

“Hey, did you tell Bonnie about you jumping Monty?” Fliss asked.

“Oh, no…” Mary turned to the woman, enthusiastically telling her all about it as Bonnie listened, Fliss walking alongside them, her hand rubbing her bump. She was just thinking about how nice a nap would be right then when Bonnie’s phone went.

“Sorry Mary.” She muttered, frowning at the number. “Hey, Lisa?” Fliss attention turned to Bonnie and she watched carefully as she spoke to Jake’s fiancé, her eyes flicked to her “No, no why…what’s…oh, ok…yeah…”

She cancelled the phone call and instantly tapped at the screen.

“Everything ok?” Fliss frowned.

“Yeah, I just need to check something.” she said. Fliss glanced at Mary who looked at her, shrugging.

“Here…” Fliss handed her the keys to the jeep “Go open the car…” “You know if you want me out of the way just ask.” Mary rolled her eyes.

“Ok I want you out of the way.” Fliss looked down at her. Mary snorted and took the keys, wandering off the 50 yards or so to the jeep. Fliss watched her climb in the back, the door staying open and her legs dangling out of the side. “Bonnie what is it?”

“Nothing…” Bonnie said, far too quickly as she looked up at Fliss. Fliss frowned.

“Bonnie…”

“Honestly, it’s nothing, just something Lisa told me about on facebook so…” Bonnie stuttered slightly so Fliss narrowed her eyes.

“Stop bullshitting.” Fliss said, holding her gaze “What the fuck’s going on?”

“Look, I’m sure it’s not what it seems…” Bonnie sighed, holding out her phone. At those words Fliss felt her heart sink as it could only mean one thing, and she took the phone with a tentative hand. She looked down at it and could see that it was a photo and from the logo in the bottom right hand corner it was from the official club page that the boys had been in on Saturday night.

It showed Jake, Greg, Simon, and a few others that Fliss didn’t recognise but that wasn’t what Bonnie had been referring to. What she had been talking about, as Fliss could clearly see was the background of the shot, which showed Frank with a blonde woman. Her arms were round his neck, his hand was resting on her lower back and their faces inches apart.

“Like I said, I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation…” Bonnie said, but Fliss wasn’t listening. She was busy flicking through the other photos and then she came across another of Frank, the same girl perched on his knee.

She felt sick.

“Sure, perfectly innocent…” Fliss swallowed, handing the phone back to Bonnie, her voice sounding detached. Bonnie looked down at the snap now displayed on the screen and she took a deep breath.

“Look, Fliss, Frank loves you…he was probably just drunk and…” “Touching up some whore that’s sat on his lap.” Fliss shook her head “Save it Bonnie, I gotta go.” “Fliss…”

Fliss turned away from her, the tears stinging her eyes as she headed to the jeep. Taking a deep breath she wiped her eyes, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Are you ok?” Mary looked at her.

“Yeah, fine…just tired and hormonal.” Fliss shot her a smile.

“We can watch a film when we get back.” Mary suggested “Just chill out?”

“Yeah, yeah we can.” Fliss trying to quell the sick feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with Bean.

Had Frank really cheated on her? She would never in a million years thought he had it in him to be unfaithful, and she was desperate to believe Bonnie, that there was some perfectly innocent explanation for it all. And maybe, just maybe with the first one she could. It could have been taken at a bad moment, when they were just talking to one another, Frank being friendly…but then again why would they have their arms round one another. And as for the second one…the same girl was sat on his fucking lap with her arm looped round his shoulder.

And he looked perfectly comfortable with it. 

She rubbed her bump again and Mary looked at her. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine sweetheart.” she nodded, painting a smile on her face before turning the key in the ignition. “Let’s go home.”

******

Frank sighed as they all trudged through the arrivals lounge, rubbing his eyes. He was ready for a shower and collapse next to his girl, he felt like he had aged a decade over the last 3 days. The rest of them looked just as bad as they headed to the waiting car, Simon’s phone reminding Frank he needed to turn his on to.

“Oh, shit…” he heard Simon groan “No, that’s not…he didn’t…I swear…”

He glanced at Frank who stood still, watching and leaning on the door frame, his own phone in his hand as it started up.

“Yeah, ok…love you…see you soon.” Simon swallowed and cut the call looking at Frank.

“What is it?” Frank looked at him, a cold feeling washing over him “Has something happened to Lissy or Mary? Or the baby, please tell me no…” “No, nothing like that but you need to call Fliss.” he said, “Frank, there’s photos of you and that blonde chick on the club facebook page. Someone tagged me and Greg in them, Lisa saw them and Bonnie and…” “Photos of what?” Frank frowned “I didn’t do anything…” “There’s a photo that makes it look like you are…and one of her on your lap.” Simon said and Frank swallowed, his stomach churning.

“Oh fahk!”

“Just get in the car.” Greg looked at him from where he stood at the other side. “Call her on the way, we’ll back you up…it’s a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine.” Jake assured him.

But it wasn’t fine, because no matter how much Frank tried, or how many messages he sent, Liss wasn’t picking up or replying and when he saw the photos, he could understand her being pissed. He would be if it was the other way round because they looked bad. The drive home seemed to take forever, and when the car finally rounded the corner onto Frank’s road they all offered to come in as well and help him explain, but he shook his head, knowing full well if he did that she would feel backed into a corner. No, this was his own dumbass fault. He’d face up to it and talk to her, make her understand how he’d told the girl to back off…she’d listen, she was reasonable.

The house was quiet when he entered and he walked through to the lounge where Fliss was sat on the sofa, her knees bent up beside her. She glanced over the back of the couch and he could see she had been crying, which made him feel like even more of bastard than he did already.

“Lissy, honey, I swear…” “You know, when I asked if there was anything you wanted to tell me, maybe I should have asked if there was something you should tell me” She sniffed, uncurling her legs and standing up and Thor’s ears pricked up from where he had been laying on the rug.

“Listen, those photos, they’re not…” He shook his head. “I told her to get lost, honestly I swear to you.”

He moved towards her, his hands dropping to her hips but she pushed him hard in the chest, stepping back.

“Don’t touch me. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

“Sweetheart, I swear to God…”

“I don’t wanna hear it Frank.” she shook her head, walking past him. “Where are you going?” he asked, “Lissy, you can’t leave. Please, sweetheart…” “I’m going to bed, but let’s get one thing straight. The only reason I’m not screaming at you right now and storming out, slamming the door behind me is because of Mary.” she spoke calmly, too calmly for the anger which was radiating out of every inch of her body. She looked at Frank, her eyes watering as she shook her head, turning away. “You can take the couch.”

“Lissy…” “Frank…just stop.” Her voice cracked, and with that she left the room, Thor trotting behind, the bedroom door clicking behind her.

Frank stood, rooted to the spot, debating whether or not to follow her, before he decided not to. The last thing he wanted was to anger her that much she stormed out, or worse, she got so stressed something happened to the baby. No, she’d set the boundaries so he decided to respect them, and turned instead to the couch, sinking down onto the cushions his head in his hands.

She was angry, upset and she had the right to be and like he had said in the car, in her position he knew he would feel the same. She needed to sleep, calm down enough so that they could talk and he could explain, get her to listen to him. And then she’d see that it was a huge misunderstanding, even if she remained pissed at him for having the girl so close in the first place, which, ok, he shouldn’t have done but fuck…the thought of cheating hadn’t entered his mind, not once.

He swung his legs up, rubbing his face over his hands. She’d believe him. She had to, because if she didn’t, then had no idea what the fuck he was gonna do.

**** Chapter 4