#he just spends a whole day working with each dog to brush their beautiful coats

[violetgarlends]

Angst thoughts: Having the dog pack helped him process a bit of his grief from the stuff that happened in book 4. Others may judge him for crying but never his dogs. They will gladly wrap around him and let him cry on their fur. Except Xiao Qing. He doesn’t like tears on his beautiful coat, so he’ll lick them away from FX’s face.

When the loneliness starts setting in, FX knows he can just whistle and be smothered by a his giant dogs who all want his attention.

They would be so helpful for him. He must have been so lonely after book 4, when he was still trying to scrape by

I can totally see him, on an especially tough day, start crying into his dog. Then Xiao Qing starts licking his face , and he can’t help but laugh. Xiao Qing is very good at comforting him, in his own way.

And once he ascends to heaven, and gets given this big lonely palace, his dogs are still there to keep him company

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

I Had To Know Pain Before I Could Be Comforted

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

Requested by @steveyouarelate : “37 (Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.) and 50 (I’m sorry I’m not enough for you) (with an happy ending, please) with billie dean x reader”

A/N: there’s a lot of crying and wallowing in self-pity in this one, you’ve been warned. I wanted it to have a tragic ending but you asked for happy, so here you go. I hope you’ll like it <3

Title is a line translated from this song.

Word count: ≈ 3 700

Someone catcalled you from across the street but you didn’t find it in you to care. You had no idea where you were. Night was falling, the cold, crisp air was biting your cheeks and making your whole body shiver. You could barely feel your fingers anymore. Your feet hurt. But the pain and the cold felt good. If you could, you would close your eyes and let yourself sink into it to forget everything else.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You ignored it. You kept on walking, straight ahead, left around a corner, past an old man sitting on a bench. He said something to you you did not understand. A car honked nearby. Let it. Let it hit you and put an end to your misery.

Your phone buzzed again. “Oh for fuck’s sake, leave me alone,” you muttered. But even as you said it, your hand reached in your pocket for your phone. Your heart swelled with a bubble of hope, that perhaps it would be her, that perhaps her words would be the right ones and they would make everything better. You turned on the screen and read your notifications.

Coming home soon? x

I’m making mackerel in white wine

It was the cold wind that made you tear up, nothing else. Certainly not the image of Billie in the kitchen, dressed in comfy clothes, sipping a glass of expensive white wine, hips swaying to some mellow jazz song as she chopped herbs and vegetables and stirred the sauce. Sassy, brave, confident, and just a little bit reckless Billie. How you adored her. She was everything to you.

Blinking back your tears, you texted her back a few words saying you were going to spend the night at your dad’s. That was a lie, but you really couldn’t face her right now.

And it wasn’t your fault, really. You had never meant to be so messed-up. But Billie – she was the sun, she was the moon and the stars in the sky and beyond, no matter how cliché that sounded, and you… you were lying on the ground covered with dirt. You were nothing. You had not achieved a single good thing in your life. You couldn’t talk to people without making a complete fool of yourself, you had no talent, no beauty, only a boring, dull personality.

You carried that knowledge in your chest like a rock. Most of the time its weight was bearable; but there were days when the rock seemed to expand and expand until it took all the room in your chest. When that happened, nothing could bring you relief. Negativity would cloud your mind. Dark little thoughts would chirp in your ears like birds in the spring. Useless, they would sing. Boring. Worthless, they would sing.

Today was one of those days. You had woken up with a feeling of dread and dejection and it had required all of your strength to get out of bed. Luckily Billie had left for work early; you didn’t want to bother her with your problems and your bad mood. And then things had just gotten worse and worse.

Today you had lost your job. Your boss had warned you several times before: you weren’t as efficient as your co-workers, you didn’t work fast enough, didn’t smile enough. You simply were not enough. So today he had held the front door open for you and slammed it behind you and had not even bothered to hide his satisfied smirk. Since then, you had walked. Roamed the streets, tried to make one with the cold.

Your phone rang. Billie’s name appeared on your screen. You stared at it for a moment before you accepted the call. You knew she may very well drive to your dad’s if you ignored her, and then what? She’d know you had lied to her. Besides, a tiny part of you was still hoping she would know what to say, she would just know, without you having to tell her, and that rock in your chest would turn to dust and flowers would bloom in its place.

“Hi sweetpea,” said Billie. Her voice was cheerful, but you knew her well enough now to hear the tinge of worry in it.

“Hey,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you beforehand. Are you mad?”

There was a soft clang, something metallic being moved. “Of course I’m not. But are you sure you’re alright?”

You closed your eyes and swallowed hard. “I’m fine. My dad just really needs company right now.”

Did she even care? Or was she relieved that you wouldn’t be spending the night together?

“I’m sorry you made dinner for me,” you went on, eyes still shut tight.”I should have warned you, but he –“

“It’s fine, Y/N, really,” Billie cut you off. “We have that wonderful thing called a fridge that I can use to store leftovers.”

A small laugh escaped you.

“But I’ll miss you,” Billie said. She paused, and again you pictured her, her free hand on the counter, fingers drumming, an apron tied around her waist, hair as perfectly done as if she were about to attend a movie premiere. Another small laugh escaped you, affectionate, incredibly sad.

“Me too. I’ll be back tomorrow. Love you.”You hung up before she had time to say it back. You weren’t sure you could hear those words from her right now.

What would she think when you told her you had lost the one thing that still made you a person of value to the world? You couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on her face. She would be kind, of course, and tell you not to worry. Maybe she would even say that she still loved you. But that wouldn’t be true. Billie deserved someone who, like her, had shot for the stars and made it. Someone who shone as bright as she did, someone she could be proud of – not a liability like you.

You walked. When you took a look at your surroundings, you realized you didn’t know that part of the city. It looked like a wealthy residential neighbourhood, big white houses with large porches, impeccably mown lawns. The streets were deserted. You walked.

Spending the night at your dad’s wasn’t even an option. He was too boisterous, too loud. Your best friend would know something was wrong the minute she’d take a look at your face, and then she would ask questions, demand answers you didn’t want to give her. So you kept on walking, dragging around that rock which after so many years had become a part of you. You didn’t even know if you would want to get rid of it. It felt like company now.

A bridge, across a canal. Past the city hall. You reached downtown, busy, wild, buzzing with life. People brushed past you and laughed at each other and talked too loudly. The city watched you roam without offering the least bit of comfort. You had tried to find solace in its streets hundreds of times before, fueled by the naive belief that the city would welcome you with open arms and a kind smile. But the city was indifferent and selfish. The city sneered at the lost souls that wandered the night.

Maybe you could get a hotel room. You stopped in front of the first hotel you found and stared at the door, but soon realized you were incapable of going in. It was as if your legs had frozen, as if some sort of force were pushing you away. So you walked on. Your heart was secretly singing for home.

But you couldn’t go home. You couldn’t do that to Billie. You were a burden to her, and that had to stop. She had too many great things to achieve, a whole future made of gold and diamonds and glorious victories, to be held down by someone like you. So shut up, you ordered your heart. Don’t yearn for something you do not deserve.

You walked. You walked until you were sure your feet were bleeding and every muscle in your legs was screaming in agony. A little past midnight your mind went numb. You walked. At 1am a dog barked at you, at 1:34 a drunk whistled and called for you to come with him. At 2:30 you finally looked up and realized your aching feet had led you back home.

You tried, you really did, to go away. Go back downtown, get a freaking hotel room to spend the night. Your feet led you to the front door, your hand turned the key in the lock. You could sleep on the couch, you told yourself. You could sleep on the couch, and leave at dawn before Billie woke up.

The house was dark and silent. You waited a few seconds, your heart beating fast in your chest, listening for any sound, any indication that Billie was still awake. Nothing. You took off your coat and shoes, and dropped your bag on the floor. You waited a few seconds more. When you had convinced yourself Billie was asleep, you tip-toed all the way to the living-room. The floor was cold under your feet, the walls seemed to be closing in on you in the dark.

You hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but you weren’t sure your stomach could hold food right now. All you wanted was to collapse on the couch and bury your face in the pillows and sleep. Forget that you existed.

Your right foot slammed into a suitcase you had not bothered to put away earlier in the day. A curse escaped you, low and angry, and out of the corner of your eye you saw something stir in the darkness of the living-room. You jumped, raising an arm to defend yourself, and squinted at the shape that straightened and turned, light from outside falling on strawberry blond hair.

Billie reached out to turn on a lamp and grimaced as the bright light blinded her. She raised one hand to shield her eyes, blinking away sleep. There was a red mark on her left cheek, and you quickly realised she had fallen asleep at the table while doing crosswords. She often did that, when she couldn’t sleep. Crosswords helped her focus when her mind was buzzing with too many thoughts.

She met your eyes, blinked again, and then she smiled. You stood frozen as if you had turned into a statue, the mad pumping of your heart the only sign that you were still alive.

You could have tried to make a joke. You could have lied to her again, said you had tucked your dad in and left. Instead, your throat closed up, your heart dropped into your stomach, and to your utter shame and despair you felt your eyes fill with tears.

You were so tired. How so tired of being you.

All you wanted was to sink into Billie’s arms.

For a minute there was only silence. You watched as Billie’s expression turned from surprised to happy to confused. Oh God, what would she think of you? How she would despise you. She would think you were a sad, pitiful creature and she would be right.

You prayed for something, anything, an earthquake, a meteor crash, a tidal wave even though you lived miles from the ocean, that would put an end to your miserable life.

Billie stood up, smoothing one hand over her wrinkled clothes. Only now did you notice that she hadn’t changed from work. Had she been waiting for you this whole time? Your heart tightened in your chest. No, that couldn’t be. She had probably tried to make the best of her one evening of freedom, her one happy evening when she could celebrate your being finally out of her hair.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” she said with a small smug smile. She held out one hand as if to touch you and you flinched. She noticed, and her smile wavered.

“Are you alright?”

“I –“ With a shake of your head you took a few steps away from her, your throat thick with tears, and when you shot her a glance her face was blurry but you could still see the damned worry in her eyes –

“Y/N what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice getting higher and shaky as it always did when she was anxious. She walked up to you, but kept enough distance between you and her so as not to make you feel cornered.

“I lost my job.” The words tumbled out without permission. You were so tired. You just wanted to be held. “I got fired because I couldn’t do my job properly.”

Silence.

That was it, then. You had lost her. She was seeing you for who you really were; the veil love had dropped over her eyes was finally being lifted.

You couldn’t look at her, so you closed your eyes and let your tears fall.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, one hand coming up to your chest for it was too tight, it was crushing your heart and it hurt too much. “Billie, I’m so sorry I keep disappointing you.”

A hand, on your arm. A question, barely above a whisper. “Honey, what do you mean?”

A sob pushed out of your throat, loud and painful and so despicable. “I’m sorry I’m not enough for you.”

She let out a noise, a gasp, but to you it sounded like a contemptuous, mocking laugh, a laugh that said, Look at you, pitiful, pitiful little creature.

“Y/N,” she started, but you shook your head. You still couldn’t look at her.

“Listen, I’ll get my things, I understand. Just – let me sleep here tonight. Please. I’ll sleep on the couch, only for tonight, and then I’ll leave I’ll – “

“Y/N what are you talking about?”

You felt her grip on your arm tighten, acrylics digging into your skin.

“Just one more night, please, Billie,” you begged.

“Shut up. Stop talking. You’re not making any sense, honey.”

“I’m so sorry,” you cried.

A hand on your cheek. You almost flinched, almost recoiled, but you managed to stop yourself from doing so. There was no need to hurt her more than you already had.

“Please stop apologizing,” Billie whispered. Why did she sound so broken? “Tell me what to do. What can I do?”

You shook your head again, choked on a sob. Billie’s thumb was gently stroking your cheek, catching your tears and wiping them away.

“Lie to me,” you whispered. “I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again. Tell me I can be enough for you.” You opened your eyes, then, and looked up at her. And you could have hit yourself, you could have stabbed your chest and ripped off your heart, for her face was coated with tears that dripped down her chin, and her gaze was so terribly sad.

She let out a strangled breath. “Oh, Y/N… come here, come here baby.”

You didn’t even try to fight her. Your body sank into hers like a stone into water. Your hands slid up her back to grab fistfuls of her shirt as you buried your face in her shoulder. She wrapped one arm around your waist and put her other hand on the back of your head, pressing you closer against her. She was being so gentle, so loving, dropping kisses on your temple, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear – it only made you cry harder. Because you were going to lose this, to lose her, and you’d never have the strength nor the will to find that kind of sweet love ever again.

She started humming, a soft tune, as she rocked you like a child and you sobbed and wailed. Her voice was always a little bit raspy when she sang, a little bit out of tune, never quite managing to hit the right notes. Hearing her sing always soothed you. She ran her fingers through your hair, acrylics gently grazing your skull, just the way you liked it, because it always made your skin tingle everywhere.

Damn her, she knew you so well. She knew exactly how to help you calm down, how to make part of that ache in your chest disappear.

Minutes passed. Billie was still humming when you finally felt like you could breathe again. You turned your head, pressed your cheek against her shoulder – her blouse was wet now, you had done that, ruined it as you always ruined everything. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, relishing the smell of her, so precious, so loved – you would have to keep it safely stored in your mind to never forget it. Maybe, on the darkest of nights to come, when everything and everyone would fail to soothe your soul, if you closed your eyes tight enough you would be able to conjure her scent again, and then sleep would finally come.

Billie’s hand slid down the side of your face to cup your cheek. You closed your eyes, counted to three, then pulled away.

Her gaze was still so very sad when you met her eyes, but she managed to offer you a smile. She gracefully wiped a tear that rolled down her cheek.

“Why are you crying?” you frowned.

Billie let out an incredulous laugh. “Did you hear what you said to me?”

There was no reproach in her voice, only sadness, and that felt like a stab to your heart.

“I’m sor –“you started, but she interrupted you with a slender finger on your lips.

“I told you to stop apologizing.” She offered you another shaky smile, but then her brow pushed up in concern. “Did I –“Her voice broke. She swallowed, tried again. “Did I do something to make you feel like you were not enough?”

Did she… what? You weren’t sure you had heard her properly. Had those words really left her mouth, or had they been uttered by a malicious spirit? How could Billie, Billie who was so considerate, so loving, so utterly perfect – how could she think she had done anything wrong?

Her face crumpled as she misinterpreted your silence. “Oh no baby, I’m so s –“she started, but you interrupted her.

“No, Billie, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Your voice was hoarse from crying. You shook your head, biting your lower lip to hold back fresh tears. “You’ve been so good to me. The best thing that ever happened to me. The truth is, you’ve been too good and I don’t… I don’t want to hold you back.” She opened her mouth to protest, but you shook your head again, a silent pleading to let you finish. “Now that I’ve lost my job you’re gonna have to provide for me and I can’t let you do that. I can’t be a burden I can’t –“

Again, a finger on your lips. You fell silent. Something in you disappeared and you felt your body go limp, as if there was no strength left in you.

Billie’s finger gently tapped your lips as she gazed at you thoughtfully.

“I don’t mind providing for you while you look for another job,” she said after a while. Her brow furrowed. “Or maybe you should take a break. Maybe I should, too. We could go somewhere nice and relax for a while.”

“But I –“Another tap on your lips.

“But you –“you tried again, but again she interrupted you. You planted a kiss on her finger in retaliation, and were rewarded with a small smile.

“I couldn’t sleep without you,” Billie said in a low voice. Her eyes met yours, kind and vulnerable. “You’re not a disappointment, Y/N. It’s got to the point I cannot even imagine my future without you.”

You couldn’t help it: you dissolved into tears again. Billie cooed and gently guided your head against her shoulder. You clang to her, hoping you could get rid of your negative thoughts with every sob. It didn’t work like that, you knew it, but when you were in Billie’s arms it almost seemed life could be easy and kind.

You didn’t pull away when your tears subsided. You kept your eyes closed, enjoying Billie’s embrace, her hand running through your hair, her warmth. You felt thoroughly empty now, thoroughly spent. Sleep weighed on your eyelids. You wrapped your arms around Billie’s waist and pulled her closer still, breathed in her scent and let out a sigh.

“What happened?” Billie whispered after a while.

“I told you.” You nuzzled her shoulder. “I lost my job.”

“No, I mean… what happened?”

You got her meaning, somehow, as if your mind were perfectly attuned to hers. You hesitated. Swallowed hard.

“I don’t know,” you said in a breath. “Sometimes it feels like I can never be a viable option for anyone, especially not for you. I know it’s stupid, I know I have no real reasons to feel that way. But I can’t help it.”

Billie hummed. She dropped a kiss on your forehead, warm lips lingering on your skin. “I love you,” she said, voice firm and raspy. She ran one hand up and down your back, nails scratching gently.”And I want you, even when you’re at your lowest and ugliest, even when you don’t have a job.”Her hand slipped over your shoulder, under your chin, titled your head up. She waited for you to meet her eyes. “You’re allowed to not be at your best all the time. That doesn’t make you worthless.”

And as you gazed at her with half lidded eyes, her words sank into you and settled in your chest and bloomed there. Eased the ache. Maybe only for a few hours, maybe only for a few days, but it was all you needed right now. And somehow she had known exactly what to say. And she would know what to say the next time.

You blinked sleepily, and she cooed, smiled a smile that was half fond, half smug. “Do you need to get some shut-eye, my little bear?”

You rolled your eyes at her, but were betrayed by a yawn. Her smile grew into a smirk.

“Shut up,” you muttered, as you buried your face in her chest, nuzzled the exposed skin, and smiled.

[chuckbass-love]

Johnny gives me rough childhood vibes. Maybe a fic about his childhood or why he acts the way he does

Hiya lovely anon! Right so again, i’m sorry for making everyone wait ages for their requests but i never want to rush them and have them be bad. So i like to take my time to plan out how i want to write them before i write. I hope this was worth the wait and i hope that you love it. I’ve followed the story of Johnny and Sue and what happened to their parents but i’ve changed the age of when it happened, sort of. It’s for the sake of the fic to make it work.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: You’ve been dating Johnny for a while now but you still don’t feel like you know him, the real him. So when you finally ask about his life growing up, he hesitates to open up.

Warning: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of murder (not much), mentions of depression, self harm and just all round dark. If any of these themes upset or trigger you then please don’t read. 18+

Word Count: 4,311

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @xo-tough-love-xo go check them out🥰

Demons Unmasked

Ever since you first met Johnny you knew there was something about him, something behind those eyes, an immense pain that he could never move on from or heal. But being his partner didn’t automatically earn you the right to know and he wasn’t exactly the best at opening up. So for a while you learned to let it all go and let him be the one to tell you whenever he felt ready.

You can still remember when you first asked him about what life was like for him and Sue. He’d clued you in very early on about his parents and the fact that they passed when he was younger. It was hard on him, he didn’t need to tell you that, you just knew. And since he barely shared any more details, it was obvious that the whole thing was still a sore subject. 

Sue pretty much raised him after that point and it wasn’t easy, she struggled day in and day out and worried like crazy about setting him on the right path and keeping him there. Gangs were all the rage and let’s just say it wasn’t an easy job to do to keep him far away. 

When you and Johnny first started dating, Sue pulled you to the side for a chat at dinner and gave you a heads up about everything. At first you didn’t get why but the more time you spent with Johnny, you realised that he was very guarded and she wanted you to be aware of what you were getting into. She wanted you to know that patience is key when it comes to him telling you things.

And over the last year you’ve really learned a lot about patience. You’ve been there in the middle of the night when he’d wake up from a nightmare that scared him so much that he struggled to sleep again afterwards. You’ve wiped the sweat from his forehead and held him in your arms to soothe him. You’ve watched him change the subject umpteen times whenever the conversation turned to family. 

Which isn’t a surprise because to him, his only family was Sue. She’s the only family member he ever knew and the thought of him growing up with next to no one else, saddens you deeply. 

Today is your birthday and Johnny has been driving himself up the wall with plans for it. He keeps saying how he wants today to be perfect for you and that his favourite person in the world deserves nothing but the best.

Whoever said romance is dead hadn’t met Johnny Storm. 

“Babe” he calls, his voice echoing through the apartment until he reaches the bathroom to find you drying off after your shower. His eyes rake over your body in awe before you turn away out of embarrassment “everything okay?” you ask, wrapping the towel back around yourself and padding into the bedroom and then to the closet to pick out your outfit for the day.

“Yeah, i just wondered when you wanted to do gifts” he smiles, leaning against the door frame as you change and then turn to him with the same smile on your face “whenever you’re ready” you say, glancing at yourself in the mirror briefly before following him out into the lounge and the moment you step foot into the room, you gasp at the sight. Balloons and banners cover the walls and floor. A small stack of presents sit nicely on the coffee table in front of the couch and you roll your eyes before looking at him.

“Johnny” you sigh, he’s really gone all out and you feel so lucky right now. Despite you consistently telling him that all you wanted was to spend the entire day with him, no gifts needed, he didn’t listen.

“What? You didn’t seriously expect me to not spoil you on your birthday did you?” he smirks, leading you over to the couch and handing you a card. You open it and pull it out to see it’s covered in love hearts with a simple ‘Happy Birthday’ on the front. However, when you open it to look inside, the cutest message is written.

‘Y/N, 

Whether we are together or apart, you’re first in my thoughts and first in my heart. Happy birthday baby.

Lots of love, Johnny x’

As much as he likes to play dumb, he’s actually very intelligent and very cute and thoughtful. This card means more to you than any present ever could. Your lips touch his as you thank him for his beautiful words and mutter “i love you” in between the kisses.

“Now, open this one first” he instructs, pointing to the square box. You pick it up, placing it on your lap and start to undo the black ribbon tied neatly on top and when you lift the lid, a canvas is lightly covered in red tissue paper. It’s a picture of you and Johnny together. His lips are just touching your forehead and you’re smiling so big that you’re pretty sure your face was hurting. You both look like the epitome of happiness.

Tears brim in your eyes and you let one fall before turning to him “Johnny, i love it. It’s perfect” he tilts your head up to capture your lips in a loving kiss followed by a small make out session. He’s always struggled to stop at one kiss. 

“I was worried it would be too much but i thought you could hang it right above our bed” 

Did he just say our bed?  Wait, are you missing something here because you don’t live with him, sure you’ve discussed it but never made any official decisions. 

You can see he quickly regrets saying it as soon as he widens his eyes before clearing his throat and handing you the next present. This one is a tad smaller than the box before and it’s a white box with sticker in the middle, the writing is unclear but you waste no time in pulling the lid off to reveal a gorgeous apron. 

When you and Johnny first met it was at a bake sale that Sue had dragged him along to. You were selling cakes that you had made, all sorts of flavours. He kept coming around to your booth over and over, tasting a different cake each time and giving you more than the money that they costed. You remember your sister who was helping you sell them telling you that he liked you but you waved her off, refusing to believe that you’d caught someones eye. But funny enough, before he left, he plucked up the courage to ask for your number and the rest is history.

The apron is white with a variety of colours all over it, the strings are pink and you’re in love with it. Now you’re desperate to get in the kitchen and bake just so you can wear it. He must have noticed the way your current one was getting rather tatty and the fact that he thought to get you this just goes to show how thoughtful he is and how much attention he pays to you. 

“It’s so beautiful” you beam, holding it up to admire it some more “just like you then” he winks, snaking his arms around your torso and pulling you closer as he holds the final present in his hands. 

Though you’re trying your best, you just can’t get the way he said our bed, out of your head. What did he mean by that?

“And this is the last one, i promise” he chuckles, popping it into your small hands and allowing you to open it. Once you do, a key sits in the middle with your initials written on one side and his on the other. You look up at him, more tears forming as it starts to click what this means “will you move in with me?” tears form in his eyes too as he looks at you with puppy dog eyes and you wrap your arms around him “yes, i’d love to” you grin, kissing him some more.

“Really?” does he even need to ask?

“Yes, really. I’d love to live with you” 

He cups your face with both of his hands, deepening the kiss if that’s even possible before resting his forehead to yours and a relieved sigh escapes “i tried my hardest not to ruin it when you opened the canvas but i guess i just got too excited” he explains, so that’s what he meant by our bed. 

Now it makes sense why he was looking at duvet sets and toothbrush holders for his place. He was preparing in case you said yes. Which you did and it was the easiest yes you’ve ever given. 

Johnny then stands up, clearing any rubbish away before sitting back down next to you and going over the plans for the rest of the day. He mentions how he’s booked a table for dinner tonight but wants to take you shopping for something new to wear first. You reluctantly agree, after losing the battle with him. You tried to explain that you could just wear something you already have but he wasn’t having any of it. 

You never win.

After getting your shoes on and brushing your teeth, you walk out into the hall to get your coat from the rack and as you do, Johnny bends down to pick up some post before spotting you stood there.

“Looks like you’ve got some cards” he states, handing them to you for you to open. 

The first one you open is from your sister, she’s been busy lately with college so you didn’t expect to see her today but it’s the thought that counts. 

The next one is from your parents. Johnny takes them from you once you read what’s inside so he can set them down next to the card you got from Sue and Reed and his one. 

As he does this you notice him reading the cards and his face falls once he reads the one from your parents.

“Are you okay?” stupid question but you can’t just jump straight into a conversation like that, he has to know that you’re treading lightly. It’s always been a tough subject for him.

“Yeah, i’m fine” he shrugs it off before placing it down and turning to leave the room “shall we go then?” but you stop him.

“Johnny” he shakes his hand from your grasp, pulling away and letting out an annoyed deep breath “leave it Y/N” he snaps but you don’t. You can’t just keep leaving it. You want him to tell you when he’s ready but you’re afraid that day may never arrive unless you prove to him how much you care.

You sit back down on the couch and your silent prayers that he’ll join you pays off as he takes a seat next to you “Johnny, i know this isn’t exactly a conversation you want to have with me but i want you to know that i love you no matter what and i want to be here for you if you ever need me” you explain, taking his hands and holding them both in yours.

“I’m fine, Y/N seriously. I just need to stop being silly and move on from it. Most people have their parents around and i don’t, i haven’t since i was 10 and that’s fine” he rushes, in hopes that it’ll get you off his back but you aren’t budging. 

Silence falls upon the two of you for a couple of minutes and you decide to just let him calm down before speaking. Eventually he beats you to it “i didn’t exactly have the best childhood. I was raised by my older sister and spent years so angry at the world that i did everything in my power to shut everyone out. I constantly wanted to lash out and make people hurt the way i was hurting. I joined gangs, i’d commit silly crimes like stealing and when that stopped distracting me, i resorted to self harm. I’d sit in my room for hours upon hours, sometimes even days and just lay there, music drowning out all the noise as i constantly attacked my own body. I hated who i’d become but who i’d become was the only way i could stop myself from hearing those voices in my head. Voices that told me my parents were better off not being parents to me and that i was a failure”

Tears drown your vision out as you listen to the man you love open up for the first time since you met him. He’s never told you about any of this. Now you can see why. When terrible things happen to us as a human race, we’re taught that no one will understand or that we are freaks and should just keep it to ourselves. Men are conditioned to feel like showing any kind of emotion will make them less of a man and that they need to be strong. The stigma attached to mens mental health is shocking and now you wonder if he ever told Sue any of this. You know she’s aware of him having some issues but has she known about this all along, all of the details?

“My mother died when i was 8, her and my dad were in a car accident, he survived and she well, you already know. Her side of the car was the side that got hit and my dad who was a doctor, struggled to save her. He spent so long beating himself up for it, blaming himself and soon enough he found comfort in alcohol. He drunk himself stupid every night almost and eventually got into gambling. Sue tried her best to help him, using me as a bribe for him to turn his life around, telling him that i needed a dad and if i lost him too it would destroy me. But he didn’t care. He was consumed by guilt, so much so that he got into a lot of trouble, mostly with loan sharks, we lost our house after he left and had to go and live with my aunt”

“Left? Where did he go?” you ask, keeping a hold of his hands as they shake from recounting all of his childhood trauma to you, you can see this is hard for him “if you don’t want to tell me then i won’t make you” 

“No, i need to do this. He never died, i lied to you. He got sent down for murder two years after my mom passed, the lone sharks he got into trouble with were threatening him, it got pretty bad and he saw no way out. It’s just easier for me to say he died because i’m ashamed to admit that he refuses to see me or Sue and if i’m being honest, he might as well be dead. He doesn’t want anything to do with us. He said the guilt that fills him at the mention of our names is enough to make him want to stay away. He still blames himself for my mothers death”

You feel extremely overwhelmed right now, unsure of what to say until he turns to look at you.

“Listen to me, in no way are your parents better off being gone. If they were still with you and in your life, they’d be so proud of you. Johnny, i mean it. You’re incredible, the things you’ve achieved in the last year alone are something to be celebrated. I love you and i’m not going to let you diminish everything that you are. You’re brave and strong and i’m so glad to call you my boyfriend” 

He leans his head on your shoulder and you pull him in for a hug. Both of your eyes fill with more tears as some fall down your faces and you can tell that right now all he needs is for you to be here and hold him.

After hearing all of that, everything makes sense. The way he acts, the way he overcompensates with his flirting and humour. He uses it as a mask, to cover up who he is in the dark when he’s alone. When you’re not around, this is him. Just a scared little boy who’s known rejection, sadness and regret for as long as he can remember. He’s just wanted to feel accepted, loved and wanted by those around him and he was forced to grow up way too early, losing his parents so close together can’t have helped him at all. Knowing his dad doesn’t want to see him saddens you all the more.

“Are you, you know... self harming now?” the one question you hate to ask but you have to know “no, i haven’t since before i met you. I found other ways to help my anger like working out” you both pull away from the hug and he sees how puffy your eyes are, his aren’t much better either.

“How did you do it?” again, you really don’t want to know but you have to, you want to understand him more and you’re hoping he won’t pull away from you now “however i could. Cutting, punching. All sorts. To me it didn’t matter what i did as long as i did something to ease the pain but the release never lasted long enough”

You close your eyes, sighing. All you feel for him right now is sympathy and anger. Angry that you didn’t know him then to help him but sympathy because no one should ever have to go through that. No one should ever have to feel so much pain that they resort to hurting themselves, no one should ever have to feel so worthless that they get themselves into trouble and lash out at everyone around them. His dad should have stayed, he should have used Johnny and Sue as a reason to fight but even then, addiction is hard to fight so it’s not like it would have been easy for him. Guess life just has a funny way of working out and this all happened for a reason. A very sick reason but a reason nonetheless. You’re just glad he’s with you now. 

“I ruined your birthday” he mumbles, looking down and picking at the skin around his fingernails, anxiety practically drowning him but you’re not gonna let him do this.

You force him to look in your eyes and wipe the tears as they fall from his bloodshot eyes “hey, I don’t want to hear that you ruined my birthday. My birthday could never be ruined with you here. Whenever you’re around i feel like nothing could take away how good i feel” and it’s true, he makes you feel better, he improves your mood. You love him and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop.

There’s nothing he could ever tell you that could ever make you leave “are you sure?” his voice is low and barely audible but you hear it “i’m certain” he falls into your arms again and you kiss his head whilst you squeeze him tight “i love you” he sobs, his tears dripping onto your skin “and i love you” you rock him side to side, hoping to calm this frightened boy.

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

After a while of just sitting there holding him, your phone rings, bringing you out of that sad state. It’s Sue.

He opens his eyes to see where all the noise is coming from and you move to pick the phone up.

“Hi Sue” you greet, barely even attempting to act nonchalant “sure, when?” she tells you that she was thinking of cooking for you, for your birthday and wants to know if you and Johnny are free.

You put the phone on speakerphone so Johnny can hear and he just gives you a nod as if to say ‘it’s up to you’. You know the relationship he has with Sue is important to him and he’s always been very happy about how well the two of you get along so you agree without a second longer to fester over it.

Sue hangs up to start cooking whilst Johnny excuses himself to reschedule the reservation for tomorrow instead. He insists that he wants today to be all about you and if going to have dinner with Sue is what you want, he doesn’t mind making the change but you still feel bad. He had this whole day planned and you can’t help but feel as though you’ve ruined it.

“Baby, it’s fine. Sue’s cooking is great, not 5 star Greek restaurant great but still great. We’ll go to that place tomorrow” he kisses your forehead as he heads into the other room to freshen up and you follow.

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

The journey to Reeds place doesn’t take long at all, it’s practically round the corner which doesn’t surprise you. You can recall Reed and Sue looking at bigger places but Sue ended up calling it off because she wanted to be close to Johnny at all times. Close enough so that if he ever needed her, she could be there. 

Sue answers the door, smiling at you both as she ushers you inside, giving you a big hug and a present before you sit down “i was going to give this to you yesterday along with the card but i decided to wait until today” 

You rip open the simple wrapping paper to reveal a Tiffany & Co. box with a white gold lock pendant necklace inside . It’s gorgeous “wow, guys. You really didn’t have to” you’re in shock “thank you so mucj”

She brings you into a hug before you stand to hug Reed too and shortly after Sue leads you away from him and Johnny and into the kitchen.

“You know i really ought to thank you” she says as she starts to dish up the food into serving bowls “since you came around, he’s been different. Happier. And i’m not saying this to make you feel obligated to stay with him but i want you to know that seeing him truly happy really means the world. You listen to him, you care for him and you love him”

Hearing Johnny say that you make him a better person and improve his life always leads to you waving him off like it’s nothing and that he doesn’t need to remind you what you’ve done for him because he’s improved your life too but hearing Sue say it, hearing her thank you like this. It all feels more real, like you really have made a difference.

“He told me everything” you blurt out, unsure if Johnny would want you to tell her that you know and by the way she shivers, you can see you caught her off guard “really?” she keeps herself busy with the food as she talks and when you walk closer to face her she freezes.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you both and i just want to say that any time you want to talk, i’m here. It must be hard sometimes carrying all of that on your back but just so you know, you’ve done an amazing job with Johnny. I couldn’t think of someone who’s sweeter or more polite and he’s doing well for himself” your praise sets her off and she starts wiping at her eyes before hugging you once more “thank you” 

Johnny enters the kitchen, clearing his throat to announce his presence and when he sees the two of you, clearly having a heart to heart, his eyes soften “is the food almost ready?” 

Sue nods, gesturing to the many serving bowls on the kitchen counter “take the potatoes and vegetables in please and send Reed in too” he nods, smiling as he does as he’s told before looking towards you with pure adoration.

God, he’s everything. He’s brave, loving and strong. You’re so glad he trusted you enough to open up and you’re gonna continue to be there for him, should he ever need to talk to you about any of it again.

Years have gone by with him never being able to find the words to talk about his childhood until you came along. Sharing everything with you was the first step to finally moving forward. Maybe he stands a real chance now at living a life free of all that pain. Maybe one day that will be possible and he can finally stop worrying about everything haunting him. One step at a time though.

He’s got you here with him to help him through and that’s all that matters right now.

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

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[ericsonclan]

The Truth Remains

Summary: Clementine decides to surprise Louis by removing the graffitied insult from his piano.

Word Count: 2174

Read on AO3:

“Fuck,” Clementine growled, scrubbing extra hard with her bit of sandpaper at the side of Louis’ piano. This was turning out to be harder than she thought.

“Swear,” AJ didn’t let his eyes leave the crack in the music room doors he was guarding.

“Sorry, goofball. Didn’t mean to let it slip out like that,” Clementine set the sandpaper down for a second, wiggling her fingers to try to loosen them up a bit. Only five letters in and her fingers were already cramping. Part of her was tempted to use something stronger than sandpaper to remove the graffiti but she didn’t want to do any sort of lasting harm to the piano. This was about writing a wrong, making the cruel words etched into the wood disappear for good.

“It’s looking nice so far,” AJ commented, glancing back for just a moment.

“Thanks,” Clementine looked up at the progress she’d made so far. Five letters had been obliterated, only the smooth woodgrain of the piano remaining where they had once stood. The graffiti now read “ck at playing”. Better, but she wanted it all to be gone before Louis returned. Aasim had promised to take extra time checking the traps today, but the depth of the gouges in the piano meant Clementine had already taken an hour to get this far.

Well, there was no point wasting more time. Squaring her shoulders, Clementine returned to her task with a renewed vigor, her eyes scrunching in determination as she continued. Her back was sore from leaning forward on the piano bench for so long. At least she wasn’t sitting on the floor. Her arms would ache far worse then. Pressing the sandpaper against the letter c and scrubbing wildly, Clementine focused all her rage onto the offending letter.

There wasn’t a lot that she could change in this world, but she could fix this. After weeks of being forced to spend most of her time in bed recuperating and with use of the crutches draining her within the first hour, Clementine had wracked her brain to find something she could do while sitting down that wouldn’t drive her insane with boredom. This task had been one of the first things to come to mind. She wanted to make it a surprise, a sort of thank you to Louis for all he had done for her and AJ since they’d met.

Not that getting rid of graffiti could in any way amount to all they owed Louis. He had welcomed them from their first day at Ericson and let them back in without a second thought when Clementine collapsed in front of Ericson’s gates with an injured A.J. in her arms. After everything that had happened with Marlon, Louis was still able to set aside his anger and pain to become friends with them again. More than friends with Clementine. And he had run out into the woods twice on the same night to find them and helped get Clementine back to the school even as walkers surrounded them and Clem’s stump bled out on his coat.

This gesture wasn’t much, but she knew it would mean a lot to Louis. She had asked the other kids about the graffiti: Violet, Aasim, Ruby. None of them knew who had left it. They had their suspicions, but no one had seen it done. Apparently, it had been there for years, since the early days of the school being abandoned. Aasim noted that back then the school was more crowded, and Louis’ playing did tend to irk a number of the other kids. He wasn’t very good at it yet since he’d never been allowed to play before. Day by day Louis had taught himself each and every thing he knew about playing the piano. Clementine found it impressive. Yet the graffiti had stayed even as Louis’ playing improved; now it was time to erase the lie.

A gasp from A.J. had Clementine spinning round, her arms instinctively covering her work as though it would be possible to hide it. It was just Rosie though, dropping by to say hello. A.J. happily petted the dog, smiling as she lay down beside him. “Good girl, Rosie. You can help guard the door with me. We’re gonna make sure Louis doesn’t come in till Clem’s all done with the surprise,”

Clementine’s heart warmed at the sight of the pair standing guard together. It was wonderful to see A.J. getting to enjoy being a kid: keeping watch simply for the sake of a surprise, spending time with his loyal dog. It hadn’t been long since everything went down with the Delta, but A.J. had recovered well. It was good to see him smiling again, no longer spending every waking minute worrying about her or her leg. He had set down roots at Ericson and she had too. Her eyes returned to the piano. The c was much fainter now, but the lines still remained. Not for long. Clementine sanded the wood with all she had. Come hell or high water, she would get this done.

---

“There’s a surprise for me in here?” Louis sounded intrigued as he entered the room, his eyes closed and a grin upon his face.

“That’s right. Take about eight more steps and you’ll be at the piano,” Clementine plopped down on the bench, scooting over and setting aside her crutches. “One, two, oh look out”

Louis’ foot hit an empty soda can, causing him to freeze as the can clattered and spun along the floor. “Oops. That wasn’t anything, important, right?”

“Just a can. Your path is clear now. Just a few more steps and you can open your eyes. Close, closer, and… now,”

Louis opened his eyes, looking round the room with curiosity. “Huh. The way A.J. was hyping things up I figured you two would have found some balloons to fill the room with or something. You missed my birthday by about a month, by the way,”

“It’s not a birthday celebration. It’s something more subtle. Look closer,” Clementine directed, watching her boyfriend with anticipation.

Louis looked around the room once more but seemed just as lost as ever. “Hmmm, if there’s something here I’m supposed to be seeing, I’m not spotting it. Probably because the pretty girl on the bench is distracting me,” He grinned, moving to sit down beside Clementine.

“No, not yet!” Clementine exclaimed, raising her hands to stop him.

“I can’t sit by you?” Louis asked in bewilderment, his lips turning down in a mock pout. “This is starting to feel more like a punishment than a reward,”

Clementine rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her own lips. “You’ll live. Just look again. Focus. What means the most to you in this room? Besides me,” Clementine caught Louis’ look just as he was about to say that very thing.

“Took the words right out of my mouth. Besides you, my favorite thing…” Louis’ hands came to rest upon the side of the piano, “Is this,” He leaned forward, glancing at the place where he and Clementine had carved their initials. “Yep, the potato’s still there, same as always,”

“Not that, you dork! Step back, look at the whole piano,”

“Alright, alright, let’s see then…” Louis took a step back, surveying the whole piano carefully. “There’s nothing new here. It’s the same as always,”

“Not something new exactly…” Clementine paused, wondering how to word things without giving the answer away. “Something has changed,”

“Changed? Well, the bench is still here, all four legs, the strings, good old Branchley…”  Louis nodded towards the stick he used to hold the cover of the piano open. “The keys are all there, the pedals…” his voice drifted off as he squinted, trying his best to figure out what could have possibly changed. “Wait a minute,”

Clementine’s breath caught in her throat. Had he finally noticed it?

Louis took a step forward, reaching out to brush his fingers along the side of his piano. Where the scribbled graffiti had once been was a blank space, slightly lighter than the rest of the wood but just as smooth. Louis gazed at the spot for several moments before his eyes lifted, meeting Clementine’s. “Those words are gone,”

“That’s right,” Clementine smiled proudly.

“You did this?”

“I did. A.J. kept watch in case Aasim wasn’t able to keep you away long enough and you got back before we finished,”

“So that was why he took us on that whole detour to scout out new places to lay traps!” Louis shook his head, chuckling. “I’ll have to thank him later. And A.J. too,”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear that from you,” Clementine patted the spot on the bench beside her. A little sigh escaped her as Louis sat down beside her and she was able to rest her head upon his shoulder. “We both wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for us,”

“All I’ve done? Clem, you’re the one who saved the school. You saved everyone here!”

“And you saved us both. A.J. when you carried him back inside and me when you found us after the barn,” Clementine grew quiet for a moment, noticing how Louis glanced down sadly at her stump. In those first days she’d woken up he kept apologizing, saying how sorry he was that he had jumped that fence and left her and A.J. behind, how if he had stayed beside them things might have been different. He hadn’t stopped apologizing until Clementine was back on her feet with the use of the crutches and even then, she had to cut him off each time he tried to start again.

“Louis, you saved us that day. A.J. and I wouldn’t be alive anymore if it wasn’t for you,”

Louis took her hand, his thumb rubbing against it gently. “We saved each other,”

Clementine nodded softly, accepting the change. “Anyway, I wanted to do something nice for you. And that graffiti always bugged me. I knew it was a lie from the first moment I met you and heard you play,”

“The dulcet tones of my instrument haven’t driven you mad yet?” Louis quipped, a wry smile upon his face.

“Your playing is beautiful, Louis. I love hearing it. And even though everybody else has gotten too used to it to comment on it, I know they enjoy it too. You know Omar was tapping his foot to that new tune you’ve been working on last night while he was prepping for dinner,”

“He was? You sure he wasn’t just trying to wake that foot up?”

“Louis,” Clementine frowned. “I know you’re out of practice, but you’ve got to believe me when I give you a compliment. I would never lie to you,”

“I know. It’s just…” Louis sighed. “You’re right, I’m out of practice,” He leaned over to look at the side of the piano again. “I never thought to get rid of that. I mean I did, but back when it happened if I scrubbed it out whoever left it would just have carved something new in its place. And after a while I just got used to it being there. I didn’t even really notice it anymore, Well, I did, but,” he turned to look at Clementine, the happiness apparent in his eyes, “Now it’s gone. And that’s thanks to you,”

“You deserve to know how special you are, Lou,” Clementine felt her heart thump as she saw how much those words had meant to Louis. There were tears pricking the corners of his eyes as they welled with emotion.

“Clem…” Not knowing what else to say, Louis wrapped his arms round his girlfriend, pulling her into a tight hug. Clementine returned the hug in kind, grasping on to Louis’ shoulders tightly as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Thanks, Clem,” Louis whispered, his voice slightly hoarse.

“You’re welcome, Lou,” Clementine’s hand lightly brushed through her boyfriend’s dreadlocks. She was happy now in this moment with him. She wanted to treasure it.

Eventually Louis pulled back, placing a gentle kiss on Clementine’s cheek before sitting upright. “Well, a surprise like this deserves celebration! Let’s have some music!” He cracked his fingers before placing them across the piano keys. “What would my lady like to hear?”

It didn’t take her long to decide. “How about “Clementine”? That’s my personal favorite,”

Louis looked down shyly at those words, a soft smile upon his lips. “Mine too,” With that Louis began to play, slipping easily into the moment as his fingers played the familiar tune. It was a short melody, but Louis played it again. Then again. Clementine listened happily, her eyes drifting shut as she nuzzled softly into her boyfriend’s warmth. His music was beautiful; she would never grow tired of it. And here, safe and sound within Ericson’s walls, she’d have all of her life to listen to him play again and again.

[batbirdies]

Alfred + Apples or Alfred + Jim Gordon, please? Thanks for all your lovely writing!

AO3 link

This work is part of a series, but can be read alone. Know that Apples is Jason’s 4 month old puppy.

______

It was a beautiful day out, was the first thing Alfred noted when the sun came up that morning. Unfortunately, as the morning wore on and grew warm enough he might think to spend it out in his greenhouse, it became apparent he could not.

Not after Cassandra had skipped into the kitchen to drink a glass of orange juice and take a protein bar. “Can you watch Apples?” She asked, making a point of swallowing her food before she spoke.

Alfred paused where he was kneading dough, preparing it to prove for the next few hours. He glanced up to find Jason standing a ways back, hovering in the doorway, and raised an eyebrow.

“She wants me to drive her to her dance class. I told her she had to ask you about Apples if she wanted me to. I’d just bring her, I did last time-“

“Someone is allergic.” Cassandra interrupted, setting down her empty glass and popping the last bite of her protein bar into her mouth.

Jason shuffled a little further into the room behind her with a small grimace. “Ended up having to sit in the car with her the whole time. And she’s still gets kinda anxious with that many strangers.”

Alfred looked at Cassandra then, whom he knew was perfectly capable of getting herself to her dance classes, and had for many months before Jason moved back in.

Of course her driving was rather terrifying and they encouraged her to avoid it whenever possible. But beyond that, it was something to get Jason out of the house, which he had been doing very little of as of late.

Alfred had invited him to the store with him a number of times and been politely turned down without exception. He would seem to consider it at first, to mull it over with cautious interest that would quickly diminish, morphing into something hesitant and nervous that he would hide and brush off as not thinking Apples was ready for an outing with so many people yet, or not wanting to leave her in the manor alone when the others were busy.

Of course then he would become overly quiet and obviously frustrated with himself, eventually retreating to his room or the library or risk snapping at one of his brothers or Bruce. Occasionally the cave for some exercise or the outdoors if the weather wasn’t too horrid. It always left Alfred feeling a little out of his depth. He was never one to push but he questioned if a little more encouragement might be a bigger help.

From him - perhaps not. But from Cassandra he thought it might be more successful.

He’d heard them discuss her classes before as well, and she seemed eager to share this with Jason of all of them; perhaps because she saw that he too could benefit in being reminded of the good and harmless things his body was capable of.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he replied in the end, letting go of the idea of spending a peaceful morning mostly outdoors. Cassandra’s class was two hours long and he didn’t doubt she would rope Jason into getting lunch afterward if all went well and truly, Alfred hoped it did. “I’m sure it would be no trouble.”

It was only eight thirty in the morning then, but Cassandra’s class started in just thirty minutes. And so Jason rushed around, getting Apples outside for the toilet before he hurried back inside, toeing his boots off noisily in the mudroom before darting into the kitchen with her. Claws clicked softly on the tile as he slid on his socked feet to the pantry.

He quickly filled her food dish and nearly slid it across the floor where it bumped into the side of the cabinet and spilled a few bits of kibble.

“Master Jason,” Alfred asked, a little exasperated, “are you truly in such a hurry that you cannot set down a food dish?”

“Sorry, I-“ Alfred looked up at the pause, hands still at work. “Don’t like to be late,” he said on a breath, followed by a soft grimace and stiff shoulders.

He was still quite nervous, Alfred realized, a dip of guilt in his chest before he shooed him with his flour coated hands.

“Well, go on then, we’ll be fine. Titus will keep her company, I’m sure I will barely be needed.”

Jason gave him a half smile, one of the crooked kind that always reminded him of when the boy was so much younger; when he first came to the manor and they had been small and unsure.

“I promise I won’t make it a habit of leaving her to you, she won’t need too much watching for much longer anyway and-“

“Master Jason really, I don’t mind at all. I’m glad to see you going out.”

Perhaps a bit too direct, he thought, at the ducked chin and shrugged shoulders. “She’s been asking me for weeks, trying to teach me stuff. I met one of her teachers there last time, they’re nice there. It...seems fun.”  

Alfred nodded, scooping the dough he was working into a ball and setting it gently in a metal bowl. “And you quite deserve it, I think. So go on, I promise I’m not bothered.”

Jason bumped a fist on top of the counter in quick succession, nervous energy leaking out. “Ok, one thing, she does need to take that med around 10-“

“I remember, it’s on the counter right over there, I will handle it.”

One last swallow and nod before he rubbed at the back of his neck and Alfred caught Cassandra’s shadow flit across the doorway; waiting out of sigh, no doubt.

Alfred put both hands on the sides of the bowl, looking up and making direct eye contact. “Master Jason, go have fun, please.”

This time his answering smile was wider, eyes crinkling just slightly at the edges. “Thanks, Alf.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

Cassandra peaked her head around the door just then, grinning when Jason turned around. “Come on, have to speed there.”

“I’m coming, I’ll get us there on time.”

And as Alfred went about covering his dough in cling wrap and a towel, setting it to prove near the stove top he glanced down at the puppy still working away at her breakfast, tail wagging happily.

She was quite sweet really. The only thing being, Alfred had yet to spend much time alone with her. It had been just shy of six weeks since she joined their family, and in such a short time she had lost much of her initial skittishness. They were even taking her out in public now, as Jason had mentioned. As long as one of the family was with her, she was much less nervous.

Alfred though, sadly, was probably her least favorite. Through no fault of his own, mind you. He was usually too busy working in some fashion to sit and properly introduce himself, and the boys and Cassandra always seemed intent on monopolizing her attention.

Of course, Alfred had lived an active life up to this point, and while he appreciated the vigor of a young puppy, he wasn’t sure he quite had the energy for one. Not the way these youngsters ran with her out doors, or played with her toys for hours on end. His best bet, he figured, would be to find Titus and have him run her around outside later.

For now, as she finished up her food, she came around the counter and trotted through the kitchen, around the island and nearly out into the dining room before he had to call her back. She came easily enough, though as Alfred started on cleaning up the counters and she sat down next to the rug he stood on, he thought she looked rather disappointed.

“He’ll be back soon, no need to pout.” At that, she laid down, feet sprawled across the tile, flat on her belly with her head resting on the floor. “Oh my, I dare say it won’t be so terrible without him for a few hours.”

Truly, at this point in his life, Alfred should have known better than to say any such thing.

    *

    Things started off a bit bumpy, but not so terrible.

Apples, by nature, didn’t like being left alone. The plus side to this was that it was never difficult to keep track of her. Without Jason or any of the others there, she didn’t venture anywhere she could not see him.

On the downside however, it was a little difficult to get certain things done.

While he found having a small shadow follow after him wherever he went reminiscent of days long past, the dog was not quite as good at staying out of the way as any of the children had been. He nearly tripped over her on three different occasions while attempting to dust in one of the hallways. This served the double purpose of being mildly frustrating as well as rather guilt inducing; as each time, the poor thing tucked her tail and ears down as if awaiting punishment.

When he knocked his elbow into an antique vase and nearly upended it in order to catch his balance he decided he would be better served to attempt the task later, when someone else was home to keep Miss Apples company.

The dough he’d been making earlier that morning still had plenty of time to prove, but he was never remiss in starting meal preparation early. If the children went out for lunch it generally meant they would be home for dinner and Master Damian had requested a vegetarian dish Alfred had yet to try his hand at. So he ventured back to the kitchen to peruse the recipe and do a bit of prep work.

As he fell into the rhythm of chopping vegetables and premeasuring spices he paused when he felt a weight fall over his feet. Glancing down, he found Apples laid out on the kitchen floor as she had been earlier that morning, but had rested her chin on his feet this time.

He was forced to stretch himself halfway across the counter in order to snag the salt from the top of the oven, but she was rather sensitive and he didn’t want her to think she was in any sort of trouble for it. He couldn’t help but find it rather endearing, even while it restricted his movement.

Thankfully, she seemed to become restless and bored after not too long, letting out little puppy huffs every now and then. So all he had to do was lean back from counter and ask, “Do you want to go outside?” And she was immediately up on her feet and wagging her tail.

“Yes, I can tell,” he mumbled to himself as he began resealing packages and returning items to their proper places until dinner time. “We’ll go find Titus, he can wear you out.”

Titus, though, while rising early to relieve himself and eat his breakfast, was generally back to sleep this time of the morning, and today was no exception. Any attempt to wake him had, so far, been unsuccessful.

Alfred would never admit to attempting to tip him out of his bed when no amount of calling and promises of treats would budge him. While his lack of success had something to do with it, he feared more that he might have strained his back in the attempt, and would rather not hear the uncomfortable speech from Bruce about his age. He was quite fine, thank you.

“Well then, you’ll have to settle for a peaceful walk around the grounds I’m afraid,” he tried not to grumble to the puppy, who’d stood by and barked a few times through Alfred’s efforts to wake the larger dog, but had been no help otherwise. She only wagged her tail now, ears raised as she followed him back down to the mud room.

Jason and the others would take her out in a jacket and no leash, letting her bound around and chase a ball and whatnot.

Alfred, though, was wary of doing so on his own, as she didn’t seem as attached to him as the others, and she was still a bit skittish. He worried something might spook her into running off and he wouldn’t be quick enough to follow after her. And so he went about the trouble of fitting her into her harness, pulling her little padded rain jacket over her head before slipping his own coat and hat on, latching her leash to the harness - and then remembering her medication, sitting on the counter in the kitchen.

“Oh my,” he said to himself, glancing at the clock above the back door. It was a quarter past 10. He hesitated, unsure how long they would be outside but not wanting to risk the delay, though he knew it wouldn’t be long, he went ahead and pulled his boots back off and walked the poor thing back into the kitchen.

It was only an antibiotic, one prescribed after Damian insisted the skin issue she came to them with was not healing properly and they’d managed to have a vet to the house. The privileges of the wealthy and all.

Jason had seemed to be torn between exasperation at the luxury of it, and gratefulness at not having to either go out with her himself, or force her into the universally dreaded environment of the veterinarian’s office.

She was only a few days into the prescription and he really should have read the directions on the bottle, or even simply recounted his own extensive medical knowledge and given it to her with a scoop of kibble, or some other snack. But he did not. Instead, he shook a pill out of the bottle and pressed it into a small piece of cheese before feeding it to her.

But in that moment, none of those things occurred to him, he only shuffled her back into the mud room, and out the back door.

It was rather snowy out, and would likely stay that way for another month before they saw the ground again, but there was a cleared and paved path that wound around the gardens and Alfred took her along that way. It was very brisk, and he tugged his hat low over his ears as they walked, at least enjoying the sun though he thought he may not have spent much time in his gardens after all, not in this chill.

Apples trotted out ahead of him, sniffing at the air and the snow at the edge of the path, rushing side to side in a zig-zag pattern while Alfred took a much more sedate pace behind her.

He did let her into the snow a bit, so that she wouldn’t wee on the pavement, but of course she discovered a hidden tennis ball buried in the snow and rushed back to him with it, wagging her tail insistently. Alfred sighed, eyeing the snow covered land around them. It was unlikely something would frighten her, really, and he could at least do this much.

“Well alright, if you insist.” He bent down, with a little difficulty, his back twinging in warning when he was just a few inches from the ball. He lowered himself very slowly the rest of the way, tugging Apples over while he was already low to the ground and unlatching her leash. He stood back up with careful movements, but seemed alright when he was back to standing.

To hell with age, he thought, as he tossed the ball out into the snow. It wasn’t nearly as far as any of the children would throw it, nor Bruce, but he did not want to put anymore strain on his spine than necessary, just to be safe. Apples didn’t seem to mind as she went bounding after it, only to return in short order, ready for another go.

He consciously loosened his stance before bending down the next time and was relieved to feel no answering twinge. They went about it for just a few short minutes before Apples seemed to have enough, only following the ball with her eyes the last time he threw it before sitting down at his feet and looking up at him.

“Done already are you? All the better for me I suppose.”

He took her a bit further out on the path, waiting until she at least relieved herself before he led them both back inside.

It was then that things went drastically downhill. He went about removing his hat and coat, and then carefully bent down to take off Apples’ coat and harness and untie his shoes. After removing one and setting it near the door, he heard a distinct sound that had him turning around more sharply than he should have.

Before he could make a move to do a thing about it, Apples had retched all over the floor. “Oh dear.”

He made to take a step toward her but that proved to be a mistake when she  cringed down and away from him.

“No-“ he cut himself off before he could finish as her paws went right through her sick, causing her to lose traction all together and slip, sliding her front half straight across it.

With lips pressed thin, Alfred stood very still, one shoe still on. He took a breath, feeling a painful clenching in his chest as he watched her scramble back to her feet and huddle against the wall.

“It’s alright,” he tried to soothe, still not making a move to get any closer. “It’s nothing to be so upset about.” Kneeling down very carefully again, he patted his leg, keeping his voice low and soft. “Apples, come, it’s alright, I promise. You’re in no trouble at all. Come here, please.” He could see her shaking as she finally shuffled across the floor to him, belly low to the ground, tail between her legs, making a wide arch around the mess still on the floor. When she finally came near and he cautiously began to reach forward she rolled over, exposing her stomach, throat bared.

It broke his old-soft heart.

“You poor dear,” he mumbled under his breath. He wasn’t quite sure where to reach, as there was damp-yellow sick pressed into nearly all of her exposed fur.  

After a moment of glancing around he grabbed the spare rag the boys had been using to clean the dog’s feet off and slowly settled it over the mess that was her fur. He tried to gently tug her back to rights but the very action sent her scrambling back to her feet, forcing him to grab her around the middle to stop her from potentially running into the main house covered in vomit.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright.” He soothed, tucking her up to his side, attempting to hold the towel in place to avoid any transfer. He could hear her wheezed breathing, feel how stiff her muscles were in his grip, though she didn’t make a sound.

And so he sat for quite some time, kneeling on one knee in the mud room, with one untied shoe on, and a half grown puppy covered in sick, stroking down her back; about the only clean spot on her.

She did calm down a little after a while, turning her attention to licking at his trousers when she couldn’t reach his hands, as if apologizing. Sadly, there was no way to avoid a bath for her. Thankfully, they were already in the perfect location for one.

There was a large sink up against one wall with an assortment of bottled soaps sat next to it and a stack of towels on a shelf underneath. She would hate it, he thought, and likely be terrified of him for the foreseeable future but there was nothing else for it.

Carefully, he adjusted his grip around her center, shifting the towel once more before he stood up, an alarming zing running up his spine at the movement. He gasped in a breath himself and held very still, only relaxing after enough time had passed and no other pain followed. He walked her over to the sink and more crouched than bent over to set her down.

Removing the towel he made sure she wasn’t likely to climb right out of the sink and stepped briefly away to take care of the mess on the floor. He heard her claws scraping up the bottom of the sink and soft whining breaths, but she didn’t bark.

Alfred steadfastly did not bend to wipe up the floor, instead squatting in an awkward pose and using the already dirtied towel to wipe up the rest of the sick. He would mop later.

The laundry room was just through the doorway and he took only a split second to deposit the towel in the dirty hamper before he kicked off his remaining shoe and returned to the sink. The poor thing was shaking and when he turned on the water it only got worse.

“I promise it will be quick and painless,” he tried to soothe, holding his hand under the stream and waiting for it to warm up. “You’ll right as rain as soon as this is done with and you’ll feel so much better, I promise.”

He did his level best to avoid getting water in her face, moving the spray nozzle to primarily soak her chest and belly before squeezing out some soap and scrubbing it into the dirtied fur. She endured admirably, all things considered, though she continued to retreat to the back of the sink each time he lifted his hands away. “I know, I am your very least favorite person in the world right this moment, but you’ll be so much happier when you’re clean.”

It didn’t take very long, really. He scrubbed and rinsed her twice, paying special attention to her feet the second time around. He managed to shield himself from her full body shake by grabbing a towel just in time and quickly draped it over her, giving her a good scrub with it. “There, it’s already so much better, isn’t it?”

Trouble came a second time when he attempted to lift her out of the tub. His back seized immediately, stars dancing in his vision causing him to nearly drop her and leaving him frozen, half bent over with her wrapped in a towel in his arms. She squirmed just slightly, tail whipping out the bottom of the towel and Alfred mentally cursed his old bones and bad timing.

Putting her on the floor was what did it in the end. The moment he knew he’d pushed things too far and the insistent stabbing pain up through his low back made him gasp, quickly reaching out to grip the edge of the sink. Apples was busy divesting herself of the towel while he underwent the mental math of his next moves.

He needed to sit down, number one, but he needed to take a muscle relaxant first or he would only stiffen up the longer he stayed still. And perhaps an ice pack, he thought.

Walking into the kitchen, back bent at a 45 degree angle, he spared a split second to be thankful no one was there to witness it. Though, if someone had been, he would not be in this predicament to start with.

He had to pause in the doorway from the laundry room, breathing shallow. “You foolish old man,” he muttered under his breath, bracing himself for the last shuffle to the medicine cabinet and the awkward reach he had to make without being able to stand up straight. He swallowed the pill dry rather than bother with getting a glass of water.

After the grueling process of getting an ice pack from the freezer door he was left with the question of where to retire. He wanted nothing more than to retreat to his own rooms, wait out the pain in his back until the relaxants took affect and he could move easily enough to attempt to work out the muscles. But he would have to bring Apples with him, and the others wouldn’t look for him in his rooms.

If they did, it would be because they assumed something was wrong when they couldn’t find him in the main house.

It would worry Jason more than he was willing to, even for his own pride. And so he shuffled into one of the lower level entertainment rooms, not wanting to even risk the stairs. He was afraid initially that Apples would attempt to hide, but she steadfastly followed after him, even after he’d put her through such suffering.

“You are quite a loyal thing, aren’t you?” He mumbled aloud as he very slowly lowered himself onto the couch.

It took some shifting around, but he managed to get the ice pack tucked behind him, pressed into the tight, angry muscles of his low back. The remote, thankfully, was sat precisely in the center of the armrest he sat closest to and as he relaxed, and settled back into the cushions, he turned on the television, hoping for something he could fall asleep to.

Apples had followed him all the way to the couch and only hesitated for a moment before she jumping up after him. She was shivering still, though he hoped it was more from the cold of being wet now than from fear.

Though it wasn’t the more lived in portion of the manor, there was at least a throw blanket draped across the back of the couch and even as restricted as his movement currently was he was able to drag it down and wrap the poor thing up.

“There you are,” he said, running a gentle hand over her head, the only part of her body still exposed. She folded down next to him then, resting her chin on  his thigh this time.

“You still like me after all that, do you?” He could feel the dampness from her fur soaking through his trouser leg slowly, but it was nothing to be bothered with now. Her brown eyes turned to look up at him, a little shiver running through her frame before she burrowed just a little closer. “Well I suppose the feeling is mutual.”

Alfred tucked the blanket in tightly around her, settling one hand on her back as his heart squeezed that little bit. Jason would likely be furious with the comparison but he couldn’t help but be reminded of the boy when he’d first come to the manor.

He distinctly remembered an instance in his early days there, when he’d been in the kitchen with him, trying to help with dinner. Somehow he had spilled a pot of spaghetti sauce and he’d been so panicked to clean it up he’d burned himself badly on the pot and had to be coaxed into just letting either him or Bruce look at his hands. He’d spent over an hour stiff and wide eyed continuing to insist it was an accident repeatedly, as if they didn’t believe him.

Alfred had been concerned it would cause backsliding, more fear, but as the evening wore on and it became apparent there would be no expected punishment he’d ended the night pressed up again Bruce’s side on the couch in the den, watching a movie. It was closer contact than Alfred had seen Jason volunteer for up to that point and it warmed his heart and made it ache all in one; the way he was so cautious but so hungry for safety and love.

He’d never quite lost that caution.

As Alfred tried to ease his sore muscles, running a hand down Apples’ blanketed back and feeling the pull of drowsiness as the muscle relaxants began to take effect, he hoped that she might, and that perhaps in time Jason would as well. They were quite a perfect pair, weren’t they?

    *

    When Bruce arrived home early from WE, he had expected to find both Alfred and Jason home, but when he came into the kitchen through the garage, it was quiet and empty. But that didn’t seem quite right, because the car Alfred usually took into town was still parked in the garage. The one Cass took to her dance classes was gone, but Alfred rarely drove her and when he did, he took his own car, not hers.

And none of that explained where Jason was.

“Alfred? Jay?” He called as he set his briefcase down on the dining room table. It was a long shot, in the manor, likely he would have to do a search by foot.

Jason’s room was empty, as was the den, and when he looked out at the grounds from his bedroom balcony they appeared empty as well. He checked his phone briefly, to see if anyone sent him an update, but there was nothing. They hadn’t been expecting him home yet so he supposed that wasn’t a bad sign per se, but it still left him feeling vaguely uneasy.

He shot a quick text to Jason, to be safe, as he continued through the house, spotting Titus at the foot of the main stairwell as he ventured back down. It was possible Alfred was out in the greenhouse but Bruce now wondered where Apples was too. He supposed he could have taken her with him out there but in the current weather even that would be rather cold for any extended period of time.

“Where is everyone Titus?” He mused when he hit the ground floor, only for the dog to turn and trot down a hall toward the lesser used parts of the manor where they might set up guests if they had any. “What are you-“

Titus had no reason to venture down those halls on his own, and all the doors would be closed anyway, unless someone was down there.

“Alfred?” Bruce called again as he began to follow. Perhaps he had decided to deep clean the lesser used space. Except that the further down the hall he traveled he began to hear something that sounded distinctly like a television, some sort of commercial playing.

He spotted Titus slipping into an open door and followed on silent feet.

What he found left him nearly speechless and warmed from the inside.

Alfred sat on the couch, propped up straight with his head tilted up, resting on the back on the couch, eyes closed, one hand on the remote, the other on Apple’s back where she lay curled up next to him with her head on his leg. Titus had folded himself down in front of the couch, head up and watching Bruce. Quietly he pulled his phone out, but before he even raised it completely he was interrupted.

“If you take that picture you will find your phone missing in short order,” Alfred mumbled to the ceiling before his eyes slit open just enough to give him a soft glare. Bruce suppressed a smile as best he could, but didn’t lower his phone.

“Turnabout is fair-play,” he said, tapping the shutter release.

[crystallinecrimsonmoth]

Future Serial Killer [ongoing]

Chapter 42

Blackout curtains in the spare room they occupied for the night kept Carl and Negan from waking up too early in the day, the couple only getting disturbed when Negan finally stirred in his own time and opened his eyes to look at the younger man lying in bed beside him. Without the fire they usually had to keep them warm, the two relied on the central heating of Hilltop to keep them from freezing to death, but Negan didn’t like the lack of burning wood smell that reminded him of waking up next to Carl every day.

Gazing at the teen, the fire was the only thing missing to make the morning perfect.

‘You should take a picture, it’ll last longer.’ The mutter from his husband came out in a gritty but soft tone of voice, his one eye opening only slightly to avoid being blinded by any invading light from outside.

When he realised there was no danger of that happening, his blue eye opened all the way to stare back at Negan, causing the man to grin a big stupid grin at him.

‘I don’t need to take a picture because you’re mine already.’

Carl snorted at that.

‘Age is turning you into a teddy bear, old- Negan!’ He yelped in surprise when he felt the older man’s hand under the covers and his fingers easing their way inside him slowly.

The other simply grinned wider at him, sliding the digits further in and pressing the pads of his fingers right against where he knew his partner was most sensitive. It was a movement that made Carl jolt and try to wriggle away from him.

‘We have to get up before Jasmine needs us, Neeg,’ He tried to argue but was cut off by another assault on his pleasure centre, forcing a moan from him and encouraging Negan to shuffle closer in bed and kiss his shoulder blade while he worked him with his fingers, ‘Negan, come on!’

The elder of the two shook his head in response, though, pressing his lip to the cartilage of his ear and making the movements of his hand a little rougher.

‘She’s with Maggie and the others downstairs, she’s fine. So, we’re alone… in bed…’ He began to accentuate his statement with kisses down Carl’s neck with every few words, hovering over his back now, ‘no distractions… and I haven’t… been inside you… for far too long.’ He muttered lastly right into his ear like a vibration, licking the hard muscle there and causing his lover to jolt in pleasure once more with another rub against his sensitive insides.

Carl rolled his eye despite his moaning, gripping onto Negan’s hair to get him to slow down and burying his head in his pillow.

‘I hate it when you’re right.’ He grumbled, gasping when the man hit the right spot again before shoving at his shoulder weakly.

‘Sit against the fucking headboard, I don’t want fucked like a dog.’ He huffed, shivering and letting out a whimper when Negan nodded and took away his fingers so he could sit up.

The teen grumbled again when he had to move, trying to sit up and keep the duvet around him at the same time as he straddled the Saviour’s thighs, almost faltering and falling off the bed until rough hands caught him, sliding around his waist. A deep chuckle accompanied them while he settled on Negan’s lap comfortably, resting his hands on the man’s shoulders and glaring into the brown eyes that were watching him with a fond expression.

‘I’m trying to keep myself wrapped up ‘cause it isn’t as warm here as it is at home, stop laughing.’

‘Sorry, it was just a funny sight to watch you almost fall off the bed.’

Carl narrowed his eye at that, hitting his chest.

‘Keep laughing and you can forget getting your dick warm today, asshole.’

‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry,’ Negan laughed in reply, sliding his arms tighter around the boy and kissing him softly, feeling his smaller member rutting against his stomach despite his complaints, ‘come here, killer.’ He purred, coating himself in the oil bottle he’d left on the bedside table and pushing into the younger slowly.

Fingers dug into the meat of his shoulders as he filled in the tight warmth surrounding him, short breathy gasps reaching his ears while he moved inside the blue-eyed beauty straddling him.

‘Fuck, Negan…’ The words were accompanied by a sharp tug to his hair and the feeling of Carl’s thighs trembling against his, his ass clamping around the intrusion.

The older Saviour simply chuckled and gripped his hips tighter, thrusting into his tight body fast enough to make the teen fall against his shoulder, moaning into his neck.

‘Shit, shit, shit,’ He whined into his ear, arms wrapping around his neck and trying to gain stability as he was ravaged.

Negan didn’t let up on his pace, gripping onto the plump flesh of his hips until Carl was a moaning wreck, only able to focus on the feeling of his insides being turned to mush. He pressed his lips to the man’s neck in attempt to keep his moans from being too loud, but that didn’t prevent the whole house from hearing them.

∞

Downstairs was a whole different situation.

In the kitchen, Maggie was already up and making breakfast for everyone, heating up formula for Jasmine while the toddler sat in her highchair and spoke in nonsense language to her stuffed fox. She had been up since 5am and actively seeking Maggie’s attention, reaching for her anytime she let her go and babbling softly in reply to anything she said.

‘At least you’re getting closer to words, huh, Dandelion? But you know, I don’t think your daddies would even care if you couldn’t speak. They just love you to pieces.’ The older woman smiled, leaning her elbows on the kitchen counter as she leaned forward to the little girl.

Jasmine just babbled happily again, looking up at her with a smile full of little teeth. Maggie sighed, pinching her cheek gently.

‘Alright, darling, breakfast time.’ She hummed, taking the bottle of formula from the bowl of warm water she’d set up earlier and drying it off.

Testing the heat on her forearm briefly, she then handed the bottle off to Jasmine who took it without any fuss, able to hold it herself. Her guardian smiled at the sight of her drinking and slid a small bowl of porridge onto her highchair table before glancing over at the couch.

She’d come downstairs that morning to find Daryl sleeping there with Liùsaidh resting with her head on his chest, both lost to the world. It was unexpected after the fights they had had but Maggie thought it was quite sweet, leaving them to sleep off the hours they had stayed up late talking to each other. The two notepads on the coffee table with lines and lines of conversation in them were evidence enough of that.

Sorcha, on the other hand, had settled herself at the foot of Jasmine’s highchair once she was sat there and she’d lay there ever since, snarling faintly still every time Maggie got too close but the woman was sure the dog was softening to her.

Now the living room was quiet, complete silence filling the house while she picked up the plastic spoon in Jasmine’s porridge and blew on the mouthful for her.

‘Here comes the choo choo train, chuga-chuga, chuga-chuga…’ She laughed softly when Jasmine giggled at her actions and ate the food without a fuss, blowing on another spoonful for her as a groan came from Daryl on the couch.

‘Don’t wake your girlfriend up, she looks tired.’ She said it so casually she wasn’t sure he’d heard before a grumble reached her ears and both of them were awake when she looked over.

Daryl had jolted upon hearing Maggie’s comment so suddenly that it had caused Liùsaidh to wake up too, her hand resting on the archer’s chest as they stared at each other with wide eyes. It was a scene hard not to laugh at for the third wheel in the situation and she had to cover her mouth to keep Daryl from seeing her smirk.

The room was quiet again for a moment before their newest member was on her feet and brushing her hands through her black hair to neaten it. In that moment Liùsaidh looked like the feral, frightened girl Carl and Negan had found on the side of road again, her eyes downcast while Daryl sat up slowly, treating her like he would a spooked animal when he saw her body language.

‘Liù...’

‘I made breakfast if you want some, might help.’ Maggie spoke up from the side-lines, trying to diffuse the situation and regretting it immediately when Liùsaidh bolted from the house, leaving Daryl to sigh and rub his hands over his face, gazing at the notepads on the table and picking one up.

He flicked through the pages of conversation, hours’ worth of back-and-forth admissions and mistakes and everything in between. After all that, she shouldn’t have run so quickly but he had expected it still.

‘I’ll heat it up for you later. Go and find her.’ Maggie told him softly, covering the plates with foil for now while Daryl stood up, shrugging his vest on, and tying his boots.

‘She’ll be in the woods, betting.’ He huffed, leaving the house, and finding the young woman already climbing the Hilltop fence like a bear.

She was halfway up when he jogged over.

‘You fall and it will hurt!’ He called out, getting her attention as hazel eyes turned to focus on him.

Daryl sighed when she didn’t speak, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand while he looked up at her.

‘If you come down, we can talk. Or you slip and die, crazy lady’s choice.’

Liùsaidh looked affronted by his choice of words, having more understanding and more memory of the English language after spending all night talking to him. Daryl watched as she turned her nose away from him stubbornly before starting to climb down, only just moving fast enough to catch her when her footing faltered and she fell to the ground from fifteen feet up.

The younger landed in his arms with a thud, her eyes screwed tight as if she believed he would have let her hit the ground. It took her a moment to realise she’d been saved and then she turned stubborn again, dropping out of his arms the rest of the way and hitting the dirt, standing up quickly.

Daryl put his hands up in surrender without saying anything, wondering what she would do next, but Liùsaidh only stared at him, her face flushed from the shock of falling. She didn’t say anything as they stared back at each other, eventually looking away and moving to tie her hair back into a ponytail while he watched.

The archer frowned again, his face melding into its usual position as he looked around at their surroundings for signs of people. When he found no one else was around, the older man gulped, feeling like a shy teenager again looking back to Liùsaidh. She still looked embarrassed, running her fingers through her hair like she’d done all night while they talked.

He made sure to look around once more just in case before stepping closer to the young woman. He didn’t know when he started wanting to kiss her, he hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone in all the years that they’d been stuck in living hell. The man was used to being surrounded by people having sex and relationships, and he didn’t get it – not until the psychotic woman who pounced on him and held a knife to his throat the first time they met.

Liùsaidh seemed to freeze when Daryl stepped closer, trapped like a deer in the headlights as she looked up at him.

‘Da-’ He cut her off without thinking about it anymore, kissing the ravenette and holding his breath in anticipation for his throat to be slit.

He hadn’t expected her to start kissing back.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

I have so many prompts😭😬 my last one was "Peter works at a rescue, Tony comes to get a doggo because he’s a single man in his 50s starting to feel the emptiness of the penthouse more and more. He gets way more than that."👬🏻🐶 But if that's not your thing and you fancy having a look at the ones I think of + ones others have come up with and I thought were cute I'll leave you the link ( /tagged/pp%3A%20prompt ) 🌸🌸🌸 can't wait to read regardless of the prompt!! have a lovely day!!

Struck From A Great Height

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Teen (T) Notes: This was perfect! I love puppies and Tony with a puppy was a true treat to envision. Thanks for the prompt @puppypeter! I’ll take the next one please ;D Oh, & the picture Tony sends to Peter is this one!  Word Count: ~3.3k Warnings: There aren’t any - just cute puppies. Summary: 

Tony is lonely so he adopts a white lab named Zero. He meets another kind of puppy at the rescue and decides to keep him, too. 

do the thing, send in all the prompts 

Loneliness – a word that could easily be used to describe the feeling that steadily crept up on Tony Stark.

He couldn’t pinpoint when it became a thing. For most of his life, being alone was the goal – with no one around to want things from him, Tony was free to do whatever he wanted, when he wanted. Building a multi-billion-dollar company up from a structure that Tony didn’t want anything to do with took a lot of time and effort. Simple things like love and affection weren’t really anywhere near his scope.

When getting older started to become apparent, Tony ran from it. He hopped into bed with whatever man looked his way with the right sparkle in his eye. If these people found him to be desirable, did looming near 50 actually mean anything?

The longer he let himself stoop to the lowest of low, the more he realized that men who wanted nothing more than his body weren’t worth the effort it took to get dolled up, go out, entice them, and do the whole song and dance that inevitably led to something quick in the bathroom or a rough fumble in his bed. Waking up alone after that made the emptiness ache a little more.

It became pretty apparent that behavior like that didn’t particularly help, so he reverted back to the lab rat that he truly was and put all of his efforts into the creation of tech and furthering of the projects that were already in the works. If Tony could rely on anything to get him by, it was his brain and the depths that existed within it.

And while that was fulfilling in a professional sense, Tony craved something more. No matter how much he told himself he didn’t need anything or anyone else – the deepest part of his soul called out, his soft bits desperate to take care of another living thing. The grandness of his penthouse that used to bring him so much joy just seemed empty – the multitude of rooms wouldn’t make him happy, that much was for sure.

Rhodey brought up the idea of a pet one night over dinner – he’d been able to step away from his pregnant wife to spend a bit of time eating junk food and playing the latest COD update. Tony didn’t like to admit it, but this time with his best friend was the highlight of his month. The thought of that made his skin crawl slightly – he loved the hell out of Rhodey, he couldn’t deny that. Yet, being completely overjoyed by nothing other than his presence had that pit of loneliness opening up within him a little more.

Listening to him talk, Tony wasn’t put off by it – in fact, having a dog with floppy ears to make a mess around the place might actually be the cure to the melancholy that didn’t want to go away. Tony couldn’t take the blue feeling for much longer – to most people, his life was perfect. Trying to portray that constantly was exhausting and compounded the already shitty feelings that weren’t anywhere close to changing.

The very next day, Tony spent the first part of the day looking up rescues that were open for adoption. His heart started to beat a little faster when he started to scroll through the many adorable little faces of the dogs that were just waiting for someone to come along and take them home. A small white lab puppy caught his eye, the small dog making his decision pretty easy.

Tony took the rest of the day off – he wanted to see about the adoption process and if all things went well, get his new friend home and on the path to adjusting to the good life that he couldn’t wait to provide. Changing out of his suit into a pair of jeans, an old AC/DC shirt, and an open black and red flannel, Tony set out towards Happy Tails, his final destination.

A wave of nerves washed over him when he first walked through the door of the shelter. The smell of cleaner reminded him of the many hospital visits he had over the years, the memories almost enough to send him back through the doors and as far away as possible. Before that could happen, Tony was welcomed by a soft voice – a sense of calmness surrounded him almost immediately. Continuing on his original path, Tony clenched his fist tightly and walked towards the comforting voice.

“Welcome to Happy Tails!” Tony heard again when he got a little closer. Looking up, Tony had to stop himself from gasping – the man behind the counter was the most exquisite being he’d ever seen. Chestnut hair framed sharp cheekbones that were covered with a soft redness that probably sat there enticingly all day. There was the slightest touch of facial hair coating the man’s face, the chin strap he was working on still on the thin side. When they locked eyes, Tony felt himself blush, the wide smile on pink lips knowing and entirely too enticing to actually be real.

Raising a hand like the idiot he actually was, Tony waved at him – his stomach dropping at his stupidity almost instantly. “Uh, hi – “ Tony muttered, his brains attempt to fix the situation failing miserably. The hearty chuckle he was met with was just as sinful as the smile and eyes and cheeks that this man was graced with.

“Hi! Thanks for stopping in. I’m Peter – one of the resident puppy gurus. What can I help you with today?” The man – Peter, said with a wide smile and the most brilliant twinkle in his eye. Tony found himself returning the look without a second thought, his cheeks pinching uncomfortably after a few minutes of the beaming grin taking over his face.

“Puppy guru, huh? You may be exactly who I’m looking for, then. I saw this dog online,” Tony started as he walked closer to the desk Peter stood behind. He showed him the beautiful white lab, the fingers on his phone shaking slightly. “I want to adopt him, if he’s still available.”

“Oh, that’s Zero. He’s one of the newest fellas on the block and is very much available. He’s really chill and likes to sit around a lot for a dog his age. Labs are usually filled with energy. Not Zero – he’s just along for the ride.” Tony listened intently, Peter’s babbling about the dog absolutely adorable. Not to mention the fact that Zero sounded like the best companion – another entity in the house that just wanted to exist.

“Why don’t we got back and meet him? They just got fed, so he’ll be ready for a nice cuddle.” Peter gestured for him to step around the counter and opened the door leading into the kennels, following behind him closely. Tony looked around, his senses overwhelmed by all the sounds and smells that immediately hit him. There were a multitude of dogs in kennels, all shapes and sizes of them, each one looking at him with some sort of look in their eyes.

Peter put a hand on his lower back and pointed towards the end of the hall – “ the puppies have their own hallway.” The hand stayed where it was until Tony was out of the danger zone and in an area that was far less populated. Tony saw Zero before Peter could point him out, the small white lab sat in the middle of its kennel, looking at them curiously.

Tony felt his heart melt a little when Peter opened the kennel and Zero walked right over to him. Crouching down, he put his hand out to be smelt – the wet nose against his skin had him laughing, a huge smile slipping across his face. When the paw shot out to press against his wrist, Tony was a goner. He sat on the floor and let Zero walk into his lap – Tony wrapped his arms around the pup and scratched wholeheartedly up and down his back.

He saw Peter sit down beside him in his peripheral vision, his hands reaching out to run over Zero’s soft fur, too. Tony turned his head to look directly at him, the grin still alive and well on his face. “What do I need to do? I can’t leave here without him,” Tony admitted shamelessly, his chest light in so many ways for the first time in a while.

The smile he got from Peter in response to his question could only be described as breathtaking – the roundness of his cheeks made Tony want to reach out and touch; his entire being ached to see if his skin was really as soft as it looked. He watched Peter slip his tongue out and wet his lips, the other not missing the fact that Tony couldn’t look away. Peter let out a soft breath and kept staring at him.

“The process is pretty easy, honestly.”

And it was – Tony paid the fee and signed the paperwork while Peter ran through Zero’s latest vet visits and the ones that would be necessary in the future. Tony didn’t think to bring a leash, so Peter gave him one hanging behind the desk. “I teach a behavior class on Friday nights. You can bring the leash and Zero back later this week for it,” Peter said confidently, their fingers brushing when the leash exchanged hands.

Nodding, Tony held up the leash in salute. “Whatever you say, puppy guru. Do you happen to have a card? Just in case I have any questions, or anything.” Tony tried to sound innocent, but the smirk that pulled across his face gave him away. It’d been a long time since he tried to get someone’s number – he felt a little rusty.

Peter didn’t miss a beat, however – he pulled a drawer open and de-capped a pen, his hand flying over the card quickly. “That’s my personal. Just in case,” Peter shot back, his fingers pushing the card across the counter.

Tony picked it up before he knelt down to get the leash attached to Zero’s collar – the dog resting heavily against his leg while he did. Petting his head lightly, Tony stood back up and threw Peter one last grin. “Thanks for the help, Peter. We’ll see you Friday.” Tony couldn’t help but smile as Zero started to pull him forward, the dog’s paws slipping on the floor in his haste.

----

After letting Zero explore both the front and back seat of his car, Tony settled into the driver’s seat and set off towards the nearest pet store. He felt a little nervous bringing his brand-new friend into the store – they weren’t used to each other yet. Zero didn’t even bat an eye, though – he followed Tony around the aisles with a wagging tail and minimal barking. Tony held the different toys down for Zero to sniff every now and again, his dog just as indecisive as him.

In the end, they left the store with a whole lot more shit than Tony originally intended. The big bed looked hilarious in the backseat of the small Audi. Zero seemed to like it, though – he curled up on the thing the second Tony started the car. He figured he’d be dealing with an unruly puppy, or overexcited thing that couldn’t control itself. The reality of the situation was even better.

The night went surprisingly well – Tony let Zero take up whatever space he wanted in the penthouse. Peter assured him that he was potty trained, which proved to be correct pretty early on when the dog scratched his leg and looked longingly towards the balcony. He did it again early the next morning, his cold nose pressing against Tony’s cheek more than enough of a wakeup call to get him out of bed, stumbling towards the sliding glass door. The damn dog was too cute, it seemed impossible to hold anything against him.

Physically unable to part himself from Zero, Tony put the brand-new blue collar and tags they got the night before around his neck. The ‘bad to the bone’ leash clipped nicely to it – the whole look totally fitting for the badass little pooch. With Zero completely decked out and identifiable as Tony’s, he felt comfortable enough to leave with the pup for the day.

Tony’s caffeine headache had him pulling into the drive-thru of his favorite café, a smile coming to his face when he got to order a pupachino for the little dog that already owned all the pieces of his malfunctioned heart. Zero climbed up onto his shoulder while they waited in line, so Tony flipped the camera on his phone and took a picture of the two of them. Fumbling around the cupholder he put Peter’s card in, Tony sent the picture in a text – the happiness he felt needed to be shared.

Tony Stark: Look how cute we are. Thanks for hooking us up.

He got a few sips of his coffee in before his phone went off, the number he already typed in as Peter Parker lighting up his screen. Tony shook his head at the giddy feeling spreading through his chest, an old man like him shouldn’t feel as on edge about a cute guy texting him as he did in that moment.

Peter Parker: You two are quite the pair. Peter Parker: It was my pleasure! Glad to have made such a sweet connection.

The soft grin he already associated with Peter stayed on his lips the rest of his drive into the office and even further into the day as the two of them continued to text back and forth. Tony didn’t get much work done – between trying to be as charming as possible in his texts to Peter and loving the fuck out of Zero, there wasn’t much room for anything else.

Predictably, the rest of the week followed suit. Tony couldn’t get enough of the white fur-ball that got more and more comfortable with him as the days passed. Zero stayed by his feet while he was in the lab and followed him around the penthouse when Tony was finished for the night. The mutual appreciation of walks had them wandering around the little neighborhoods Tony never took the time to explore before.

By the time Friday rolled around, Tony was excited to show off his and Zero’s bond – a big part of him thought that Peter would be the most impressed by something like that. In their conversations throughout the week, Tony learned that Peter trained dogs professionally after studying behavior in college. He answered any of Tony’s questions and appreciated all the little anecdotes Tony shared about the short time he’d been enjoying the heck out of Zero.

Walking into the room he was directed to, Tony lit up when Peter noticed him. In a couple of long strides, Peter was right in front of him, his hand already reaching down to press against Zero’s head. “Hey you two! You guys are in luck – it’s a small class, so you’ll get lots of hands on stuff tonight,” Peter caught his eye as he spoke, the smirk on the younger man’s lips making Tony’s throat suddenly very dry.

He nodded his head listlessly, his hand tightening on Zero’s lead. The crush on Peter that he’d been fostering for the past few days doubled in size throughout the next hour. There was one other dog owner and their pup – another puppy adopted from the rescue. Not only was Peter attentive, he knew his shit and didn’t mind explaining things as he went. As someone that put information above almost everything else, Tony liked all things about that.

Zero seemed to like it, too – he showered Peter with affection when he stood talking to Tony at the end of the class. He nosed at Tony’s hand, then pressed against Peter’s leg and licked at his ankles. Tony couldn’t help but grin down at him – the antics already too much.

“I found a local brewery that has a patio that allows dogs – any interest in catching a drink with us?” Tony asked – the conversation had got to the point where they were just staring longingly at each other. It seemed like the perfect time to put himself out there. The grip on Zero’s lead tightened for just a second; he didn’t think he read their interactions wrong, but after so much time away from the dating game, he could never be too sure.

Peter reached out and laid a hand on his arm, the touch the slightest bit reassuring, “I would like that very much. I hope you’re talking about Landry’s – they have the best cheese curds.” He turned his body and started to gather his stuff up like he’d merely been waiting for Tony to buck up the courage to invite him out before getting his shit together. Maybe he was – the idea of that honestly not the worst thing. At least then, he was joined in the intensity of his feelings.

They split up for the few minutes it took them to drive their separate cars to the brewery and met back up at one of the picnic tables closest to the open grass space right next to the building. There were a couple of other dogs milling around the grass – Zero looked over at them curiously, but remained by Tony’s side, his body resting on his feet after a while.

Their view of the sunset was fantastic – they shared a couple orders of cheese curds and truffle fries; Tony liked the way Peter closed his eyes around the bites that were extra indulgent – the redness of his cheeks absolutely divine. The amount of times being caught looking at him probably should have been embarrassing. Yet, Peter simply smiled back and moved his hand a little closer to Tony’s on the table.

It took most of the night for their fingers to finally tangle together – Tony wanted to be sure and enjoyed the build-up to it once he was. Peter’s hands were just as soft as Tony imagined them – his long fingers fit perfectly between his own. They shared a shy smile and sat together until the sky started to rumble a little while later.

Big raindrops suddenly falling on them made the decision to pay the bill and huddle for warmth in Tony’s car easy – Peter climbed into the passenger seat without any restraint. It was obvious that neither man was ready for the night to end. 

In hopes of a few seconds to think his next move through, Tony started the car and made sure the vents were open so the car didn’t get too hot. He was startled by a cool hand on his own, Peter’s fingers around his wrist pulling his attention back to where they both wanted it to be.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Peter admitted, his body shifting in the seat. The Audi didn’t have too much space in it, so they were already close. The move of Peter’s shoulders brought them within breath sharing distance. “I like spending time with you.”

Tony didn’t bother trying to find the words to respond appropriately. Without any hesitation, he closed the space between them and pressed their lips together. His hands wandered to the front of Peter’s shirt; the fabric there warm from the heat of his body. A soft moan left Peter’s lips, the sound so encouraging – Peter’s response to it all exactly what Tony was hoping for.

Tilting his head, Tony was about to deepen the kiss when he felt a wet tongue on his cheek. Since his was currently tangled with Peter’s, it could only belong to none other than Zero. He pulled away with a sudden laugh – the excellence of the situation hitting him when Peter beamed at him.

“Better get used to him, Zero. I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” Tony murmured, one of his hands running softly over the puppy’s head.

Peter pulled Tony and Zero towards him, the group hug the sweetest thing Tony figured he’d ever been a part of. The press of lips against his forehead had Tony sighing, his body light for the first time in decades.

The start of something new felt pretty damn good.  

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Scratch (Frederik Andersen Imagine)

The 100 followers imagine, posted at 11:30pm because it’s quarantine and time isn’t real.

Rating: T

Pairing: Frederik Anderson/Reader

Words: 

Warnings: none

Requested: yes/no

Summary: You volunteer at an animal shelter outside of Toronto and make an unlikely friend.

Volunteering at an animal shelter is somehow both better and worse than people seem to think it is. Worse because people seem to assume that all you do is sit around and play with animals all day, completely ignorant of all the hard work that goes into caring for animals on a somewhat large scale- and definitely unaware of how much paperwork is involved in the adoption process. Better because not only do you get to play with animals sometimes, but you get to celebrate when they get adopted. Like this morning when a pitbull who’s been at the shelter for longer than you have finally found a home. She was the sweetest little lady with the most beautiful brindle coat, and she always had some kisses to spare for anyone who spent time with her. Guess you’ll have to get your kisses somewhere else, now.

That’s been the highlight of your day so far, which has otherwise been pretty boring.Two families had come in to look at the dogs this morning, and a couple teenagers wanted to see the litter of kittens that had been born a few days back, but overall you were less busy than usual. You were just finishing up swiffering the pet hair off the lobby floor when the door opened, and you thank whoever may be watching over you for postponing cleaning the cats crates. The new arrival from Tuesday has been spraying ever since and you’re not looking forward to seeing what mess she’s made this time. You wipe your hands on your jeans and get some sanitizer from the counter before turning to greet the visitor, already halfway through your greeting spiel by time you look up (and up, and up) and see who it is. Only by the grace of habit do you manage to finish what you’re saying, because that’s a whole lot of man and you might be a bit dumb struck that a Leafs player just walked into this little shelter.

“Hi,” he greets, deceptively soft for someone his size, offering a hand for you to shake, “I’m Freddie, I’m looking to adopt.” You shake his hand politely, refusing to get caught up in how rough and warm it is. If he’s looking to adopt, you’ve got a job to do. You’re sure he has the financial means to adopt, but you’re a little iffy on how much time he spends away from home, if you’re being honest. But plenty of hockey players have pets and take good care of them, apparently, so you’ll worry about that later. Plus your boss will probably grill him within an inch of his life to make sure he’s a proper home anyway, and she has good instincts about that kind of thing. So right now all you have to do is introduce him to the residents.

“Great!” you reply, “I’m Y/N, I’ll help you out. Do you know what you’re looking for?” Some people come in with an idea in their minds of exactly what they’re looking for, others have a general idea, and some just know that their apartment is big and lonely.

“Ah, not really,” he seems a bit sheepish, so you’re assuming he’s definitely the third kind, “Just figured I could look around and see?” You’re still trying to get read on him and what he may like, but it’s still pretty open.

“Definitely,” you say, beckoning him to follow you as you start toward the back, “Did you want to look at cats, dogs, or both?” You nod to Steph, the receptionist, as you pass, and she gives you a wide-eyed look and mouths “what the fuck” in return.

“Both, please,” he responds, and Steph’s reaction had almost made you forget what you’d even asked. You give an “of course” and decide to start with dogs. Most hockey guys (and guys in general) went for dogs, and it’s better not to disturb the cats if you don’t have to.

“Do you have any breed restrictions?” You ask as you push open the heavy door to the dog section. Each dog has their own space indoors, connected to a small grassy outdoor area so they can get air and exercise. It’ll be easier if he has some type of guidelines; otherwise you’ll be looking at every animal in the place.

“No,” he says. All right, looking at every animal, it is. Not that you’re complaining about having to spend more time with him, or watching him play with pets, but your hearts been racing since you saw him standing in the doorway and you’re not entirely convinced you’re not going to have a heart attack. Nonetheless, you walk him down to the end of the section, going just slow enough so that he can get a first look at the residents and you can catalog who his eyes linger on for reference.

The bigger dogs stay in the back, so people who are afraid of them don’t have to walk past. You start introducing them, giving Freddy little tidbits of information about the ones he looks closer at. He takes pretty well to a retriever, letting her smell him through the fence and lick his fingers, but he still moves on to the next after a few minutes. You do your best to discreetly write down her name in the notepad from your back pocket as he greets a boxer, not willing to risk forgetting any possible matches he may want to see later. The dogs get smaller as you go along and he seems to do a little better with them, relaxing into the process of greeting. He listens intently to everything you tell him, asking questions here and there. You’re surprised how quiet and gentle he is, how careful with the dogs. It’s not really a shy or insecure way about him, just a calm confidence that sets you at ease despite the way your heart had been racing at first.

“Do you still want to see the cats?” You ask, once you’ve made your way through the halls of dogs. He nods and says “please”, following easily as you lead him back toward the obnoxiously heavy door. Before you can even get a hand on the door, he’s reaching past you to push it open one-handed. He’s taken off his coat somewhere along the way, and you spent the last 15 minutes staunchly refusing to acknowledge his mostly bear arms and when he fills out his T-shirt, and effort which is now for nothing. It’s kind of impossible not to notice the flex of thickly corded muscle under his smooth skin when it’s right in your face, and it’s all you can do to mumble a “thank you” and scurry through the door before you get caught staring. Maybe you walk a little too quickly around the corner to the cat room, but you hardly think you can be blamed. Okay. Deep breath. Move on.

You tackle the cats the same way you had the dogs, introducing them one by one. Then you let him wander the room a bit, examining the cats and letting them sniff his fingers cautiously, careful not to stick them into the crate until the cat has brushed up against the metal to invite it.

“So, how long have you worked here?” He asks suddenly, not looking away from the tabby he’s trying to coax out of the corner of her cage. You startle just the slightest at the unexpected sound, but shake it off.

“Little over two years,” you respond. It hasn’t been too long, but you know what you’re talking about, it that’s his concern. He gives you an inscrutable look that morphs into a small smile, before he turns his attention back to the Tabby, who has ventured out far enough to sniff him, if she stretches. He keeps on like that for a bit, asking more questions about yourself instead of the animals, slowly shifting more and more of his attention to you. You answer as much as you’re comfortable, which is more than you usually would be, for some reason.

“I’m sure it gets you attention on dates,” he says, “Working here, I mean.” The question itself is enough to throw you off, but the look that accompanies it has your face heating as you turn away, flustered. What does it matter to him? Like yeah, people tended to think it was cute, but that usually lasted up until they realized this was volunteer, which means you also have a normal paying job, which means you don’t have a whole lot of time to devote to a relationship. Not that you wouldn’t mind a relationship, just. People get weird when you spend more time cleaning up cat shit than hanging out with them. Probably fair.

“Kind of,” you laugh the littlest bit. You’re not sure you want to explain it to him, but he looks so genuinely interested that you can’t stop yourself. He listens intently, nodding in understanding.

“It can be the same for me, too,” he says after you finished. Oh shit, right. Professional hockey player. His schedule probably makes yours look like a vacation. He doesn’t talk like that, though, drawing comparisons between the two of you as if you were equal. It’s an improvement over your lawyer ex-boyfriend who had decided your “silly pet project” was nothing and insisted you change your entire schedule so you could spend more time with him and at home, cooking and cleaning. Needless to say, you dropped him rather than the shelter.

“Do you want to hold any of them?” You ask an indeterminate amount of time later, realizing you’d both just been talking to each other for who knows how long, rather than finding him a match. He agrees, asking for the Tabby he’s been coaxing out. She’s been here longer than you have, too shy and distrustful for most peoples tastes. Not many people care to put in the time and effort to get her to trust them, especially as she’s gotten older. You’re one of the few that’s allowed to handle her, because she’ll claw up anyone but you and your boss by trying to get away from them. You’re not sure you want to risk bringing her out, but she immediately comes to the front of the crate when he approaches, so hopefully it’ll be okay. Freddie doesn’t seem like the type to freak out and, like, sue if he gets scratched, anyway.

You unlock the crate and carefully take her out, making sure she’s cradled safely in your arms like she prefers,  motioning with your head for Freddie to follow you into the next room. This one is carpeted and scattered with cat toys and cozy chairs, meant to be comfortable for people to get acquainted with the cats before they make a final decision. Sometimes you just take cats in here to give them some time to run around and play, especially the ones who have been here longer and don’t get considered much anymore. You squat down low to put her down, not keen on her jumping down and scratching you up on the way. She rubs up against your legs as you stand, making her way over to Freddie to do the same.

“She’s never liked anyone this much before,” you comment as he slowly sits on the floor, smiling at Alice and scratching behind her ears.

“I like her too,” he replies. He looks up to give you a dazzling smile when Alice climbs into his lap, nudging his hand with her head until he resumes petting her. You’ve never seen her like this with anyone, and you’re not sure if you were jealous that she talk to him so quickly or that she gets to sit in his lap. Either way, you sit cross legged across from him to supervise. Alice comes over to get some attention from you as well, purring like a motorboat all the while.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?” He asked after a moment, watching intently when you look up from Alice. The two of you get caught up in talking again as Alice has the time of her life going back-and-forth between your laps. You’re engrossed in the story Freddie is telling about Mitch Marner and a bath bomb when the door opens just enough for Steph to peek in, ripping you out of whatever little bubble the three of you had been in. You’re expecting Alice to bolt across the room to hide in the corner, but instead she hunkers down in Freddie’s lap and hisses. Interesting.

“Hey Y/N ,” Steph says, “It’s two, do you want me to take over so you can go?” How was it two already? Damn, you really had lost track of time. You looked at Freddie and then back to Steph, suddenly feeling every bit like you’ve woken up at 5 AM on your day off and worked seven hours, which you did. But if Alice is finally going to find a forever home, you want to get a chance to say goodbye. But Freddie still has to talk to your manager and fill out all the paperwork, and you’re so fucking ready for a nap. And anyway, he’ll probably have to come back to pick her up tomorrow anyway, with how your boss likes to make sure people are completely certain before taking an animal.

“Y/N?” Steph calls you again. It snaps you out of your thoughts and you reply without thinking about it.

“Yeah, thank you,” you say, not happy to let this experience go, but knowing it’s for the best. Freddie stands when you do, Alice cradled in his arms. Steph introduces herself and puts Alice back in her cage, suffering a small scratch along the way. Freddie follows you back out to the front in silence, walking much closer than he had when he’d gotten here. You duck behind the front desk to grab your things, and are more than a bit surprised to see Freddie still standing on the other side of the counter once you’ve got your bag and coat in hand.

“Thank you for showing me around,” he says politely, looking a bit more subdued than he had just five minutes ago. Then again, you feel the same.

“Yeah, of course,” you reply easily, “My pleasure.” And you mean it. Usually when you say that it’s just out of habit or manners, but you’d actually had quite a bit of fun today. The two of you stand there silently for a probably too long stretch of time, neither quite willing to let this end. Finally, you make a decision and tear yourself away from where you’d gotten lost in his eyes. You grab a post it note and pen from behind the desk and scribble your name and number on it, because fuck it. Once in a lifetime, and all that. And if you’re wrong, no harm no foul, right?

“Let me know how it works out with Alice?” You request, handing him the note with a small smile. You really do want to know how it works out with her, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t mostly a selfish endeavor. His face lights up when he looks at the paper, smile firmly in place when he looks back to you.

“I will,” he says, a promise you’re sure he’ll keep. He folds the note in careful thirds, letting the adhesive strip hold it shut as he slips it into his pocket. Your heart is racing again, but in a much better way this time.

“Anyway, I should get going,” you say, extending a hand for him to shake, “It was nice meeting you.” He looks at your hand for a moment before turning his gaze back to your face, painfully deliberate when he takes your hand in his own and shakes it twice, lingers until you can’t help but think about how big and warm his hand is around yours. You both drop the hold at the same time, and Freddie’s smile returns, much softer this time.

“See you around, Y/N,” he says, and he will, if you have anything to say about it. Your boss comes in as you’re shrugging on your coat, and you watch him turn a bit more professional, greeting her and shaking her hand briskly. You throw your bag over your shoulder and dig out your keys before heading out the door, one more glance over your shoulder in case this is the last time you see him. He’s already looking.

Once in your car, waiting for it to warm up, you let out a sound that had been trapped in your chest since he came in, and rest your head on the freezing steering wheel. Holy shit. You just gave Freddie Andersen your phone number. You flirted with Freddie Andersen and then gave him your number. Alice provides some plausible deniability, but you’re pretty sure you both know what this is really about. You think about it the entire drive home, considering what to do if he actually does text you, and how to not seem like you have a pathetic schoolgirl crush on him even though you do, and how he had been the one to initiate non-pet-related conversation, and if that means as much as you think it does, and a million other things. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you don’t think to check your phone until you get through your front door, which is probably good for traffic safety, but whatever. You force yourself to hang up your coat, put away your bag, and take off your shoes at the door before daring to touch your phone at all.

Nothing.

Well, it’s only been like half an hour, so that’s reasonable, right? He’d just gone into a meeting when you left, so he’s probably just still busy. Yeah. You’re actually tired, so you settle in for a nap before dinner. Maybe you toss and turn for longer than usual, and maybe you dream of tabby cats and empty inboxes, but no one can prove any of that.

You wake up groggy after the sun has set, though that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s particularly late, this time of year. The clock beside your bed says it’s not even six yet, which isn’t bad at all. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, wondering what you should get your brother for his birthday and not coming up with anything good, you haul yourself out of bed to make dinner. The plan had been to heat up some leftovers, but you’re kind of in the mood to do something with your hands right now, so you make some chicken and rice and green beans. Typically you would be listening to music as you cook, but you left your phone in your room, so you just sing little snatches of whatever songs come to mind.

After a dinner eaten while not-really-watching some show on Netflix your friend had suggested, you go back to your room. Maybe you should just go to bed early tonight. It’s not like you have anything else to do, or even really want to do anything. Luckily, you’re still in your sleep clothes from your nap, so you just cuddle back up in bed and habitually grab your phone to scroll social media for a bit before bed. Maybe you should read some more of that book you haven’t touched since last week. Except there’s a message from an unknown number amongst your notifications, and you don’t even consider anything before immediately opening it.

Hey Y/N it’s Freddie from the shelter. Thanks for your help today.

Okay, this is fine. This is totally cool, and you’re not clutching your phone to your chest like a teenager.

You’re welcome! Did it work out with Alice?

You’re expecting to have to wait again, because guys are like that when it comes to texting, but his response only takes a minute or two.

Yes, they said I can pick her up tomorrow

There’s a little smiley at the end, which you aren’t expecting from such a seemingly serious guy. The grey bubble with dots pops up and vanishes, comes back a second later and is replaced by a message.

Will you be there?

You won’t, because Sunday is your one true “day off” every week, but you find yourself considering showing up anyway.

No, it’s my day off

You tack on a :/ face, making sure it doesn’t get replaced with an emoji, because everyone knows nothing conveys the emotion of :/ . Again the dots pop up and disappear, over and over. You’re starting to think it’s just a glitch when it stops, but nothing comes through for long moments.

You could come visit her at mine some time, if you wanted. I’m sure she’ll miss you.

Alright, cool. Cool cool cool, totally not a big deal, everything is chill. You’re not screaming into your pillow at all, not even a little bit. Okay. It takes a moment to collect yourself and figure out what the fuck to say to that, but you don’t want him to think you don’t want that, so you eventually give up and press send with whatever’s in the text field.

Sure! I’ll miss her too.

And maybe when you say “I’ll miss her too” what you mean is “I’ll miss you”, but no jury could convict you. You’ve known him for a day and you already know he’s going to be stuck in your brain for a long time.

How’s Friday? I could make dinner.

That’s like. That’s definitely a date, right? Like this is all a very thinly veiled excuse for a date. You’re like 98% sure. And even if it isn’t, you’ll still get to see Alice, so it works out either way. You agree to Friday and a time, chatting a bit afterward about nothing in particular. You fall asleep with a smile on your face, looking forward to Friday, whatever it may be.

When he kisses you good night a few days later, you figure yeah, definitely a date.

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 23- Make the Whole World Wait- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Ivar and Aaline consummate their marriage.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Ragnar, Lagertha

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, sex, torture, language, mentions of rape/sexual assault

Ch. 22

Word Count: 3394

AN: Whoa! Here we go, folks! The moment you all have been waiting for!

“Passion is the source of our finest moments; the joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief.” 

~Joss Whedon

Aaline didn’t return to work. She couldn’t. 

The fire blooming in her belly prevented her from thinking about anything else except Ivar’s fingers buried between her legs. If she thought hard enough she could still feel him there, curling inside her, pressing against her clitoris, making her throb. 

She was soaking by the time she returned home. 

She made her way to her room on shaking legs, pushing the door open and pressed her back against it. She could hear her breath, loud in the small room. Her blood was pumping fast through her veins making her hands shake. 

She moved forward, kicking her heels off as she did. She made to sit on the bed but a sudden image of Ivar pounding into her aching pussy almost sent her to her knees. 

She settled down on the floor at the end of the bed, leaning against the frame. She brought her knees up and pushed her hands beneath her dress. Lifting her hips, she tugged her panties down her legs. She tossed the ruined cotton to the side and dropped a hand between her legs. 

She moaned at the wetness she felt there. 

She was almost dripping, her slick coating her pussy lips and spreading down to her thighs. She spread her fingers, stroking over the heated flesh and collecting her juices, circling up to her clit. Shivers spread across her arms and legs. Her back arched and her hips rocked as she continued to stroke her aching need.

She imagined his head buried between her thighs, his tongue licking deep inside her. His hands would hold her thighs open, forcing her to feel everything he did, keeping her from rutting against his face like a dog in heat. His nails would dig in just enough to be painful, leaving crescent moon scars for days. 

He would suck her clit into his mouth, his teeth nipping just enough to make her jump and arch against him. The sounds that would come from his mouth as he ate her would be obscene, filling the room and pushing her higher to her release. 

She could feel him there already.

She jerked her hand away, her heart pounding and her clit throbbing. She was so close but she didn’t want to come yet. 

She wanted Ivar to do it. 

She stood and adjusted the skirt of her dress and rose on trembling legs. She pulled her door open and somehow managed to make it across to his room and open the door.

She was immediately enveloped in his scent. She moaned and clenched her eyes shut. He overwhelmed her and he wasn’t even there.

She straightened and smoothed her hands down her hips. Her palms were sweaty with anticipation as she headed towards his bed. She stared down at the end of his bed, contemplating her next move. 

She made it simple and just sat on the edge of the bed. 

She couldn’t imagine Ivar would stay too much longer at work.  

.

Ivar didn’t spend much more time at the office after Aaline left. He concluded his meeting with aggressive rapidity, ushering the two gentlemen out a mere ten minutes after his wife had departed.

As soon as the elevator closed behind them, Ivar rounded on Idunn and told her to cancel the rest of his meetings for the day. He was out of his office and in his town car in five minutes. 

Ivar closed his eyes and brought his fingers up to his nose. He could still smell her. The smell of her alone made him ache for her. He was impossible hard in his pants, pushing painfully against the confines of his zipper.

He brought his fingers down to his lips and tasted them, sucking whatever was left of her into his mouth, savoring her. 

She burst across his tongue like sparks on pavement, erupting in his mouth, sending fire down his spine. She was like ambrosia raining down from the heavens to touch his mortal soul. A gift from the gods to quench his gluttonous appetite. 

The ride to the estate was a blur. He was lost in fantasies of Aaline. 

He could feel her beautiful legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust inside her. Her walls would clench around him like a vice, milking him of everything he had. Her nails would score welts down his back from his shoulders to his ass. He would feel them for days after, he knew. 

He could feel her fingers tangling in his hair as he hovered over her. Her hair would be splayed out across the pillow, her face twisted in a mask of pleasure. A gentle blush would cover her face and extend down her throat to her nipples. Her breasts would bounce as he ground into her, swaying like forbidden fruit ripe for his tasting.

And taste them he would.

He would wrap his hand around her throat, never enough to hurt her but just enough to heighten their pleasure. 

He could see his fingers flexing around her throat, her pulse beating a hummingbird rhythm against his palm. Her breath would be hot against his face and her body would be arched up against him, pressing every curve and crevice against him in rapture. Her pelvic muscles would flex around his cock as she came.

He opened his eyes when the car came to a stop. 

He pressed the heel of his palm against the rod of steel enclosed in his trousers. It offered little relief.

He stepped out of the car and slammed the door harder than necessary. He stalked up the front steps and into the house, conflicted on where he should go. 

He wanted to go to Aaline’s room and wait for her there. But the temptation of relieving the pressure between his legs was overpowering. On the other hand, pleasuring himself in Aaline’s room was a thought all too titillating. Although he wasn’t keen on relieving this pressure alone. 

A cold shower would do him good. 

He stalked to his room and pushed the door open, stopping dead in the doorway. 

Aaline sat perched on the end of his bed looking as thoroughly as debauched as he felt.     

Her face was flushed and sweat moistened her skin. Her lips were red and swollen like she’d been chewing on them. 

Without looking away from her, he closed the door and turned the lock. He could see her body shudder from across the room. 

Never taking his eyes off of her, he began to undress. He pushed his blazer off his shoulder, tossing it over a chair. He unclasped his cuff links and dropped them soundlessly to the carpet. He stopped just long enough to toe off his shoes. 

When he reached her he was standing in front of her knees. They were parted just enough for him to be able to tell that she wanted him but not enough for him to stand between. 

He gazed down at her, taking in the wanton lust on her face. Her eyes were wide and wet, staring up at him with a mixture of hope and desire. He cheated heaved with each breath that she took. He could see her nipples pressing hard against the fabric of her dress. She was shifting her thighs together beneath her dress.

He smirked and leaned down, pressing his fists to the bed on either side of her. He brought his face down to hers, his lips brushing over hers just enough to get a taste but not to satisfy. She whimpered as he pulled back. 

He settled his mouth by her neck, his breath ghosting across the tender flesh, raising goosebumps. His tongue mouthed at her earlobe and he whispered, “Ask me.”

Her breath left her on a tremble. “What?” She licked her lips to dampen them. Her mouth was so dry she feared she'd never be able to quench this thirst that Ivar arose inside of her. 

Ivar switched sides, nosing along the column of her throat when he spoke again.“On our wedding night, I told you that when I fucked you, it would be because you asked me. So ask me.” He traced the tip of his tongue down her throat, coming around to her collarbone. 

“Ivar…” Aaline whimpered. Her body arched forward trying in vain to find some relief for this raging inferno inside her. Ivar kept himself just out of reach, his nose and mouth the only parts of himself he let touch her.

“Ask me.” He breathed against her pulse. 

She tightened her grip on the bedspread, her fingers aching. She widened her knees, expecting Ivar to step between them but he didn’t. He simply held his position above her. She arched her back, pressing her breasts towards him but he didn’t move from his position against her throat.

She ached for him to touch her. She needed to feel his hands around her waist, her thighs, her back. She needed his hands around her throat. 

She needed to feel him inside her, soothing the flames that licked in her belly. She needed his hands on her.

For the first time in her life, she begged.

“Please…fuck me.”

He growled against her throat before bringing a hand up to her jaw. He gripped it in his hands and turned her face away, sliding the flat of his tongue from her clavicle to her ear. She gave a full body shiver as Ivar tongued her ear. 

He shoved a knee between her legs, widening them. He pushed against her chest and she laid back, bringing her hands up his back and gripping his shoulders. 

He trailed a hand up the inside of her thigh and growled at the bare flesh he found. She was already soaked and his fingers slid easily inside her, his thumb landing on her clit. She gasped and arched up against him, her breasts pressing firm against his chest. 

She jerked her hands around to his front and ripped at his shirt buttons. Ivar leaned back and tugged his shirt from his pants. He reached back and tugged the whole thing, still buttoned, over his head.

Aaline licked her lips and stroked her palms down his chiseled abdomen. She traced the black lines spanning his chest and shoulders. She leaned up and tongued the markings around his nipple. Ivar groaned and brought a hand to the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. 

She looked up at him under her lashes and waited until his eyes met hers. When they did, she bit his nipple hard. Ivar jerked against her and roughly pulled her hair, wrenching her away. She gasped at the sting in her scalp, the heat in her center increasing.

Ivar slammed his lips down to hers, biting at her lips and tongue. Aaline reached between them and began working on the fastenings of his belt and pants, pushing his last remaining clothing down and off. Ivar crawled up the bed, leaving his clothes behind and pushing her up with him. 

He sat back, naked, and looked down at her. 

Her hair was spread across the bed, her eyes blown wide and clouded with lust. Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and he was delighted to find that the color extended beneath her dress. He wanted to see how far it went so he reached forward and gripped the collar of her dress above both breasts. 

Aaline knew what he was going to do just before he did it and she opened her mouth to protest but Ivar was too fast. He ripped her dress down the front. She was almost angry at him but the action alone sent fire straight to her center and she thought she would come right then. 

Ivar drank in the sight of her bare before him for the first time. Her nipples stood up towards him, begging for his mouth. Her blush did extend to her breasts and was rapidly making its way down her belly. He could see her arousal glistening in the light and he wanted to taste it almost as much as he wanted to be inside her. 

He decided he could wait.

He tugged on her hips and brought her up off the bed, pushing her dress off her shoulders. She never broke eye contact as he removed her ruined dress. She found a surprising amount of pure emotion in his gaze. Lust was the dominating one but she could see devotion and tenderness there as well. He drank her in like a starving man at an overflowing table. It seemed almost as he was memorizing her. 

Ivar lowered her back to the bed and kept his eyes on her face as he settled his hand between her legs. He stroked her slowly, testing her wetness and measuring her pleasure. He circled his thumb over her clit a few times to see her tremble. 

He moved his fingers and wrapped them around his cock, stroking himself with her juices coating his fingers. Her mouth dropped open and she widened her legs, stroking her foot up the outside of his thigh. Ivar hooked a hand around her calf and brought it up to his shoulder. He  kissed the bone of her ankle, the flat of his tongue circling in long strokes. Aaline pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and arched her back.   

Ivar dropped her leg back to the bed. He pushed his hands underneath her knees and pushed them down and up, opening her up for him.

He looked down at her sopping entrance, his mouth watering. He brought his hand back around to his cock and held it at the base, pressing the head to her entrance. Aaline threw her head back and closed her eyes, her mouth dropping wide at the stretch he inflicted. 

She moaned low in her throat as he broke her open on his cock, every ridge and line of him brushing deliciously against the throbbing walls of her pussy. She could feel her muscles clenching rhythmically around him. 

He pushed forward until he was seated all the way in, her walls wrapped around him like silk. She was warm and wet around him, engulfing him in her heat. He groaned and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. She stroked up his back and curled her fingers in his hair, tugging. He grunted and thrust his hips forward, pressing himself impossibly closer.

She cried out and locked her ankles at the base of his spine. Ivar lifted his head and gazed down at her, the glazed look in his eyes matching hers. She rocked up into him, shivering at the stretch. He saw tears in her eyes and stroked a thumb under her eye. 

She sighed at the tenderness of his touch. Tears gathered in her eyes not only at the naked emotion in his eyes but at how the feeling of his cock buried inside her made her feel whole. She’d never felt like this with any of her other partners. Ivar made her feel like a missing piece had settled into place and it frightened her. She knew he could see the tears in her eyes. She didn’t want him to stop. 

“Ivar…” She whispered. He met her eyes. She stretched her neck up and pressed her lips to his. She didn’t move, only held steady there. Ivar breathed her in, trembling. 

“Fuck me.” 

He snarled against her lips and pulled out before pounding back in. Aaline cried out and arched back, her nails leaving bloody welts down Ivar’s back.   

Ivar rutted into her like a beast, pounding his hips against hers, the sound filling her ears and sending shivers down her spine. She brought her hand up beneath his jaw and pushed his head back.

He grunted and arched his neck, slowing his pace as the position forced him away from her. She unlocked her ankles and planted her feet, pushing with her hips. She shoved him to his back and stared down at him. He growled and gripped her waist, sure to leave bruises. She could feel his nails digging into her skin and she rocked her hips. Ivar hissed and jerked her forward.

She planted her hands in his chest and began to ride him. She arched her back, presenting her breasts to him. She rolled her hips hard, the ridges of his cock rubbing just right against her walls. She could feel the wetness settling against Ivar’s skin as she twisted around him.

Ivar sat up suddenly, a hand wrapping around her neck. Her breath left her in a sharp exhale. She met his hooded eyes with her own. He was sneering at her and, if he hadn’t been inside her, she would’ve thought him angry. His eyes were wild with lust, his pupils blown.

He tilted her head down, his thumb digging in just enough to catch her attention but not to choke her. She scraped her nails hard down his back, drawing more blood. He grunted and she smirked in victory when he twitched inside her. He growled low in his throat before slamming his lips to hers, tangling their tongues  and clashing their teeth. She could taste blood and she moaned.

Her world shifted then and she felt Ivar slip out of her as she was planted on her belly. She cried out in protest but was quickly shushed. Ivar settled one hand one the bed beside her and the other wrapped back around her throat. She gasped when he filled her in one stroke, resuming his rapid pace. She pulled her legs up enough to settle on her knees, her thighs shaking with the effort. Ivar groaned. 

She pushed herself up on her elbows and pushed into him. Ivar’s thumb stroked down the column of her throat before his hand disappeared. She nearly cried out at its absence but was quickly appeased when it settled between her legs. She arched back sharply when Ivar began circling her clit in furious circles, pressing hard and fast. 

She tried to buck against him but he was a solid mass of muscle behind her. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and bit at her ear, tonguing the curve. She whimpered as shivers overtook her body. 

“Wait for me, my love.” He whispered. She brought her hand back and tangled her fingers in his hair. He hissed when she pulled and stroked hard over her clit. She moaned and her body shook against his as she came. He groaned as she tightened like a vice around him, milking him.

He thrust against her and circled her clit until she brought a hand down to push him away. He obliged and released her, watching her face plant into the bed. He stepped back off the bed and smoothed a hand down his face, disappearing into the bathroom. 

He took a washcloth and rinsed it under warm water, rubbing it across his face and chest before dropping it between his legs. He tossed the soiled rag onto the counter before reaching for another one. He turned back to head into the bedroom.

Aaline had rearranged herself on her side. She was watching him. He smiled and knelt on the bed, pushing her to lie on her back. She did so, her eyes following his movements with rapt attention.

He pushed her legs apart and pressed the warm cloth between them, just resting it there. He looked up at her as he began to stroke over her swollen flesh, cleaning her. 

Aaline felt her heart swell with sudden emotion. She blinked the tears away as Ivar pressed his lips gently to her hip bone, standing. 

He looked down at her, the washcloth passing from one hand to another. “Bathroom’s all yours love.” His voice was soft in the space between them.

She sat up and rose up to her knees. She stepped towards him and planted her hands on his shoulders. She searched his eyes and, finding what she was looking for, kissed him. “Keep the bed warm for me.” She said. 

Ivar grinned as she stepped around him and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Tags: @dreamlesswonder @youbloodymadgenius @inforapound @bcarolinablr @funmadnessandbadassvikings @jay-bel @feyrearcheron44 @londongal2810 @khiraeth @didiintheblog @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @xbellaxcarolinax 

[earthseaborealis]

New Traditions and Worlds

My @homestuckss gift for @dykeiatrist ! I used “Davekat,” “Jane,” and “Hurt/Comfort” (with a bit of DirkJake) to create a cute little holiday fic! Hope you enjoy it :D Have a wonderful holiday season!!

Also on ao3 (@detective_in_space if the link doesn’t work!)

“Twas the week before Christmas,” Dave started before pausing, “Yo Rox, what’s somethin’ that rhymes with Christmas?”

“Ass? Wait, no, no that doesn’t work… Christmas…” Roxy muttered, “Okay so, like, the only thing I’ve got is Christmas, but you absolutely cannot rhyme ‘Christmas’ with ‘Christmas,’ right?”

“You’re definitely right,” Dave sighed as he scratched out the words in his notebook, “Dude, like absolutely nothin’ rhymes with Christmas words.”

Roxy moved over and rested their hand on his shoulder, “Karkat will appreciate the thought at least. Hey, there are other things than Christmas raps, like festive interpretive dances! Or Festive slam poetry?”

“Well, duh, it’s Karkat we’re talkin’ bout,” Dave laughed, but in his defense, it was true. Karkat would yell and insist that he hated Dave’s most ‘ironic’ gifts, but there was a certain fondness in his tone. Like it was just a whole elaborate game. The edges of Karkat’s eyes would wrinkle as his lips curled into a small grin. A small chuckle would escape, which Dave would obviously point out, and in response, Karkat would punch him (before wrapping him in a hug). Oh god, that was the best… 

“Hey sleeping beauty,” Roxy interrupted, as they lightly hit the side of Dave’s head, “Did ya invite me over here just to fall asleep?”

“Nah dawg, I was just thinkin’ about the usual,” Dave brushed their hand aside. 

“So,” Roxy drawled, “Karkat?” Roxy wiggled their eyebrows at Dave. 

“No,” Dave exclaimed, “Fuck, I mean, no. Hey, do ya know any, like, traditions that people do for Christmas and all that jazz.” Now that was a smooth change of topics. 

“Smooth like a baby’s bottom,” Roxy laughed, “But, nah. I didn’t even know Christmas was like a real thing… thought it was an urban myth or something.” Oh, right. Roxy lived in some highly-futuristic society that was enslaved by a fish bitch, but there was none of that oppressive dictatorship on Earth C. Trolls, Carpacians, Humans, and well, any other species were free to chill by the fire and enjoy whatever holiday they wanted. Now that, was what sweet, sweet democracy was about (preach Obama). 

“Lit, lovin’ that we’re both oblivious of any cultural traditions… hey, you think one of the Crocker-Harley-English… berts... would know more about this? I’m feelin’ like they’d be all up in that shit,” Dave said, “Oh fuck, I’m so smart. That’s like totally their thing.”

After quickly picking up all his stuff and saying goodbye to Roxy, Dave picked up his phone and dialed Jane Crocker, the holiday expert, on his way home. Wait, oh fuck, what if she was busy? It’s not like he usually talked to her, so was it out of the question? Oh no, maybe he should’ve just texted John...

The phone picked up, “Hello, Jane Crocker speaking?”

“Oh… oh! Hey Jane, it’s Dave… ya know… Dirk’s cooler bro,” Dave started. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and kicked a stray pebble on the sidewalk. Yes, he could be floating around, but exercise was important. 

“Well, howdy there Dave. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, hasn’t it,” she chuckled, “Anyways, did you need anything?”

“So, like, Rox and I were talkin’ about Christmas and stuff… and well, we’re both dumb and have no idea what people actually do for it, so I thought you might be the expert on the subject? Because it totally seems like it’d be up your ally,” Dave rambled on. 

“Well golly, I’m flattered. It’s been a while since I’ve actually celebrated the holiday, but of course, I’ll help you! Before the game, my father and I had so much fun celebrating… let’s see… Well, I’m sure you already know this, but we’d go out to a farm together and pick out a tree. I’d always search for the fattest tree, and my father would help me cut it down. And then we’d go get Hot Cocoa and pick out ornaments together, and well, oh sorry, I’ve gotten a bit off-topic, haven’t I,” Jane apologized.

“No, no! You’re literally the best… lemme just get a piece of paper to write this on,” Dave fumbled around his captchalogue, and pulled out an old notebook (of course, with Obama on the cover). “Okay cool, I got one, hit me with all that sweet, sweet info.”

“Alright… let’s see, what else… oh, well after we decorated the tree, we’d make and frost sugar cookies and cakes together. Oh! Karkat and you are welcome to come over together sometime and make cookies with me if you’d like,” Jane offered. Hell yeah, she was a literal legend. Roxy and Dirk had the best friends. 

“Yeah, dog, we’d love to! I’ll hit you up with a date once Karkat checks the calendar. You know him and… schedulin’,” Dave said as he continued to write down Jane’s suggestions. 

Jane chuckled, “Sounds good… and one more thing… My father and I would always put cheesy Christmas music on. That was the best… we’d make absolute fools out of ourselves, but it was so much fun. Literally, we’d just dance around and belt the lyrics… those we’re the days,” Jane’s voice started to crack… fuck… had Dave made her cry? “Sorry…” she continued, “I don’t mean to be so emotional. Oh lord, I’m sorry. I… I hope I helped you a bit, and just, feel free to come over whenever for cookies…” 

“Fuck, no,” Dave searched his brain… what would Karkat say… “Sorry for bringin’ up those memories. I know it sucks and all. I’ll give you some time and just hit you up later.” 

“Yes, that’d be great… see you later then,” Jane said as she hung up. 

Well, shit, Dave had already made one person cry and it was only 11 a.m. Maybe Christmas was just an emotional time and stuff. Jane was cool, though, so he hoped that she was okay. Plus, she gave him some kickass advice, and he was so ready to get his holiday spirit on. 

The rest of the walk to his place was boring. Dave tried to come up with some more sick raps for his Christmas album, featuring the new and improved version of “Jingle Bells.” The air was crisp and way too cold for Dave’s Texan roots (he blamed John for the freezing wind), so he was thankful when he finally reached the door. 

“Yo, Karkat, I’m home, and I come with words of wisdom from the one and only Jane Crocker herself,” Dave announced as he closed the door behind him. He attempted to throw his coat and hang it up, but it fell clumsily to the floor. He shrugged it off and continued through the cozy lil’ condo, finding his way into the kitchen, where he found Karkat doing a load of laundry. Yes, the washing machine and dryer were in the kitchen… it was only the most ironic, British mom location for them. Dave, being the coolest man to ever exist, ran up to Karkat and hugged him from behind. 

“Jesus fucking shit Dave! Are you trying to give me a blood pusher attack?” Karkat screeched as he jumped like fifty feet in the air (okay maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it basically happened). 

“Nah dude, you wouldn’t dare be all anime protagonist on me and faint. Like, imagine me runnin’ to cradle you in my arms while you murmur ‘I’m goin’ to have to kawaii the shit out of your desu.’ Literally, imagine that” Dave rambled. 

Karkat groaned at this, “Stop spending time with Dirk. You’re turning into a shitty weeb Karkat said as he pushed Dave away. 

“I can’t help it… it’s who I am,” Dave clutched yo his chest and fell to the ground, pulling the other boy down with him. Karkat’s words. The worst weapon of all. 

“I’m going to go live with Kanaya and Rose,” Karkat grumbled, falling to the ground as dramatically as possible (making sure to land on Dave with as much force as possible). 

“Like you’d do that,” Dave scoffed, “She’s worse than me. Plus, is you did, we couldn’t be all romantic and celebrate human holidays together. C’mon dude, we gotta act like a high school couple. Get all up in each other’s space and kiss under the mistletoe. Oh, speakin’ of that! I talked to Jane, who is literally the best, and she was like ‘oh Dave! Check out this super lit tradition I did back on the o.g. Earth. Like, you get to cut down a tree and decorate with the most ironic ornaments.’” 

“Sound detrimental to the environment and a waste of time. What’s the point of celebrating a fucking tree,” Karkat asked.

“Dude, it’s a pine tree, which is superior to all other trees. Besides,  it’s about family and friends. I mean, I never celebrated Christmas with Bro, but you can’t just diss Karen like that,” Dave said, using his best white mom voice. 

“Fine whatever. I’ll celebrate your dumb human holiday, but I call picking out the decorations,” Karkat bargained as he stood up and dusted off his pants (getting rid of Dave’s germs).

“Hell yeah, deal! Get your coat on, we’re gonna get a tree and bring it in our house,” Dave exclaimed, quickly getting off the ground. 

The boys quickly got ready and we’re out the door, hopping into their car. Dave has gotten it because well, basically of all Karkat and his friends could fly. He has listened to Karkat’s complaining enough and invested in an older, used minivan. And man, did he love the thing. Hey, maybe he’d become a car person after the holidays were over. 

Dave was about to drive to the nearest park with a saw, but Karkat demanded that he call and ask Jane first. Jane recommended a small farm in the middle of nowhere, and with the use of a GPS, they eventually found their way there (after a few hours of trial and error).

“Jane said that fat trees were better, but honestly, I’m lovin’ this tall ass one right here. I mean look at it. It’s taller than the Empire State Buildin’… wait, is that still a thing? Like an Earth C Empire State Buildin’?” In Dave’s defense, it was a totally valid question. Like, did Earth C have the same seven wonders of the world? Who knew. 

“Shut the fuck up. We’re here for a tree, not imperialism,” Karkat groaned, “And besides, our house isn’t big enough for that.”

“But Karkat, the economy,” Dave whined, “But like, what about this tiny one… it reminds me of you, short stacks.”

Karkat shoved him, “And the other reminds me of your flat ass.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment… since you're lookin’ at my ass and all,” Dave pulled down his Stiller shades and winked.

“Shut up, you fucking twink. Let’s just celebrate your weird human holidays and get the tree,” Karkat grumbled as he attempted to pick up the tree. 

Dave doubled over laughing as he watched the 5’3 troll struggle, but once Karkat shot him an angry glare, he rushed over to aid him (with his huge muscles, of course). “Nice, I can feel it pokin’ me through my mittens. Ten out of ten would recommend.”

After endless trial and error, the pair managed to carry the tree to the register and on top of their car, a red minivan that Dave had picked out.

“So,” Karkat started, “We just put a tree in our block and decorate it? And then some creepy old man flies around the world and gives presents to children by putting them under the tree?” His eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to understand human traditions.

“Dude, I can’t even explain it. Humans can come up with some weird shit when they put their minds to it,” Dave laughed. The rest of the car ride consisted of Karkat rambling about trollian traditions. Their hands managed to find one another and rest comfortably on the center console (Dave, of course, kept one hand on the steering wheel at all times… hey, safety is important). 

Their next stop was the local hardware store. It was owned by a sweet, older Carpacian. In all honesty, she reminded Dave of the Mayor… a kindred spirit whose goal in life was to just lead and help make others happy. She made the place seem like the opposite of a place to buy tools. The place was decorated with festive garlands and cheery music rang through the air. Dave waved at her as the pair walked towards the Christmas section.

“So,” Dave drawled, “What kind of ornaments are we lookin’ for? Personally, I wanna find a dick shaped one… for the memories of cockscotch. Bless that game.”

“This is a family store, dick-muncher! And we’re getting triple-f ornaments! Family fucking friendly!” Karkat screeched, marching ahead (but not before grabbing Dave’s hand and pulling him along). 

“Fine, fine, I get it… gotta make our house grub friendly, for when John comes over,” Dave snickered as they walked the ornaments aisle. Who knew there were so many different variations in fucking decorations? You had some for your Karens, poor college students, newlyweds, too many to count. Karkat busied himself with the… glass ball? Well, whatever that kind of ornament was called. 

“These are nice,” Karkat noted, showing Dave a set of jade glass baubles (haha, like Kanaya).

“But like, dude, they’re so borin’,” Dave whined, “We gotta spruce this tree up… get it? Spruce is a kind of tree.” Dave chuckled at his own dad joke. Shit, he was hilarious. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to make this actually look nice. We���ll get other colors too, and “spruce” it up, as you say,” Karkat said as he went back to check out the boring ornaments. Dave, on the other hand, went to look at the children’s ornaments on the other side of the aisle. Most of them were new pop culture things that Dave didn’t recognize (God was he growing old). However, there were a few that grabbed his attention, and obviously, he was gonna have to show these to Karkat. 

“Yo, dawg. Check out these cool little fuckers. They’ll make our tree look mads cool,” Dave opened his hands to reveal a bunch of little crab ornaments. They were cute and not boring glass balls. Plus, crabs were like Karkat’s thing… he’d definitely appreciate them.

“Crustaceans? Don’t you just know the way to my blood pusher,” Karkat rolled his eyes, “Just put them in the basket before I change my mind.”

Dave threw his fist in the air and gave Karkat a side hug, “Hell yeah, you won’t regret this. We gonna get so festive up in this joint. All the moms will be beggin’ to check out the coolest tree in the neighborhood, which if ya didn’t catch on, will be ours.”

“You got me. I’m only doing this to make Carol jealous. She fucking deserves it,” Karkat chuckled. Yes, Dave knew he was doing swell when he made Karkat laugh. If only he could give himself a, well earned, golden star. 

“Dude yes, I fuckin’ hate Carol. C’mon, let’s get more lights. We gotta make this flashy and blow a fuse, speakin’ of which… do you know how to fix a broken fuse? Because I do not wanna call Dirk over to fix it for us. He’ll be like ‘Dave, I’m just tryin’ to celebrate the holidays with my darlin’ boyfriend… have I mentioned Jake’s ass? Damn, lemme just rant about that and never actually fix your broken utilities.’ Can you imagine the pain, Karkat,” Dave lamented? He loved his brother, don’t get him wrong, but he did not want to mess with Dirk this close to the holiday season. 

“I can, actually. Remember what happened the week before Jake’s birthday? Dirk is batshit crazy, but he gets it from you,” Karkat smirked as Dave feigned an offended expression, “Now, can we stop talking about his love life and actually pick out some decorations?”

The pair still had one more destination before they could go home and relax, maybe even decorate the tree… but knowing themselves, they’d probably wait until Christmas Eve to put the new lights and ornaments up. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so glad you two could make it,” Jane said as she opened the door, “I’ve already got everything out, so all we have to do is bake and decorate cookies… and perhaps eat a bit of dough.” She ushered the two inside. 

“Hell yeah, you’re the best Janey,” Dave said as the pair put away their coats and walked to the kitchen with Jane. Everything was so clean, especially when compared to their house. Karkat would always fuss about his habits, but Dave felt a sort of comfort in the messiness. So what if there were shirts thrown on the floor and an unorganized stack of papers on the kitchen table. It built… character. 

“I’ve never had what you humans call ‘cookies,’ but thank you for having us,” Karkat added. 

“Oh please, it’s no problem. I love baking, and I especially love helping people get into the holiday spirit,” Jane said. The trio fell into a simple routine once Jane showed them the recipe, helping the two boys when need be. Dave filled the silence by rambling under his breath about whatever he deemed important, while Karkat concentrated on making his cookies perfect. 

“Hey look,” Dave exclaimed while holding up one of his doughy creations, “It’s a Karkat angel! A Kar-Angel… a Karkat Van-Angel!” His cookies were shaped into gingerbread men with nubby horns and an uncharacteristic smile. 

“And I made a Dave-Cookie… oh wait, it’s just a blob of dough, my fucking bad,” Karkat retorted, going back to rolling out his dough. 

It was a long process, but after a few hours, the boys had successfully made their first batch of Christmas sugar cookies. A few of the cookies weren’t burnt on the edges, but they were delicious nonetheless. Jane demanded that the pair take home their creations, as she didn’t have enough room in her cabinets for more holiday desserts. 

“Goodness, thank you so much for coming over and making sugar cookies! I haven’t had this much fun since… well, it’s been a while. Feel free to come by and help me whenever you all would like,” Jane chirped. 

“Of course, Janey,” Dave replied, “You best bet we’ll be back for some more goodies! Gotta get my housewife on. I can’t be accidentally poisoning Karkat with some undercooked cake.” 

“You’ve poisoned me with every meal of your’s, except the Kraft Mac and Cheese, but only because Roxy helped you,” Karkat spat. 

“Oh well, we certainly can’t have that. I’ll be seeing you both again soon then. Have a Merry Christmas and a wonderful new year!”

It was dark by the time they were home. Karkat and Dave both felt the sleepiness enter the body, as they kept yawning. It was too late to decorate the tree, so it was leaned against a corner. The pair immediately plopped down onto the couch and put on a holiday classic, Tim Allen’s “The Santa Clause,” which Dave argued was the best Christmas movie known to mankind, trollkind, and carpaciankind alike. 

“Y’know, I never imagined that I would celebrate Christmas. Like, dude, that shit was mads uncool,” Dave said out of the blue, interrupting the beautiful sound of Tim Allen interacting with CGI reindeers and kidnapped children.

Karkat groaned, “Well, me either, yet here I am, celebrating a dumb holiday for dumb human grubs.” He was just trying to enjoy this wonderful holiday film, but with Dave, silence didn’t last long. In a way, it provided comfort to the pair. He knew that Dave absolutely hated the silence, as it reminded him of his Bro. For Karkat, Dave’s endless rambling allowed him to take his mind off of his worries. It was an odd relationship, one that had taken years to achieve, but here they were… they had made it, yet Karkat knew there were still shaky moments for the two of them. Like now, for example. The pair both would jump around certain barriers, trying desperately to aid one another, while still attempting to not dig too deep. 

Dave rested his head upon Karkat’s thighs and snuggled into the pile of blankets, reminding him of their time on the meteor, “Y’know, I wouldn’t have this whole thing any other way. ‘M glad my first Christmas is with you, instead of Bro.” His words are slurred together and slightly muffled, and Karkat can’t help the stupid ass blush that creeps onto his face at the sound of them. 

“Fuck that guy,” Karkat spits. After a moment, he starts again, this time with a gentler tone, “And it’s nice to have you here too, no matter how fucking dumb your endless rants may be.”

Dave could almost hear Dirk whispering “Tsundere” in his ear as he chuckled, “Awe, love you too, KitKat.” He sits back up, nearly smacking the top of his head into Karkat’s jaw. He looks away for a second, briefly hesitating, then leans in, closing the distance between the pair. It’s just a brief peck, but it leaves the two of them speechless. Dave looks at Karkat through his shades. A light brush coated his cheeks and his lips curled into a small grin. 

Karkat pulls Dave into his side and looks towards the corner of the living room, where their small, fat tree is leaning against the wall. It was empty and in desperate need of attention (aka Crustacean ornaments). Filled with a sudden burst of energy, he paused the movie and stood up, pulling Dave with him, “Get off your lazy ass and get fucking festive. We have a tree to decorate.”

[starfleet-wannabe]

Lucky- Joe Mazzello x Reader

Summary: Reader walks into the living room after a long day at work to the sight of her husband, Joe, and their two children sleeping on the couch.

Word Count: 1118

Warnings: Fluff. Just pure unadulterated fluff. First Person Reader.

A/N: This story is written and dedicated to @rogerina-yee-haw  who inspired the idea, without you this wouldn’t have come into fruition. Ellie, you are one of my greatest writing inspiration, and I love you very very much. This story is also dedicated to @rogahtaylaah  Liv, you know how much I love you, your writing and how talented you are. You both are my muses and you never fail to make my day! It was really fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy, it means a lot to me that you would take the time to read my story. 

I walked into the house after a long day on set, my eyes heavy from waking up at 5 am to capture the perfect shot of the sunrise, everything we worked hard for relying on the vulnerability of the break of dawn. It was nearly 9 pm when I returned home from a long day of shooting, attempting to get as much in before we went on break, meaning I missed dinner, one of my favorite meals to enjoy with my family, and my children were already asleep. I hated missing these moments, while small to most people mean the whole world to me, as my children were growing bigger every day and I knew, one day, these moments would only be precious memories.

I set everything I carried with me by the front door, where they would continue laying until Monday morning. I made sure my weekends were spent with my family and made my way to the living room, where I would be greeted by my husband, Joe, as he watches late night talk shows on the tv, and I would allow myself the moment to unwind in his embrace. This has been a routine of ours for years, as both of us are used to the grueling and taxing hours of entertainment, and how these hours often keep us away. Our lives are highly romanticized, and it hard not to see why when money and opportunities seem to make themselves known at every corner, but what you lose is your sanity and the hours you spend away from the people you love; these are the things you never get back.

However, instead of being greeted by my husband scrolling through the tv channels, the sight that greeted me brought tears to my eyes. Before me, Joe and our two children were passed out on the couch, each child underneath the nook of his arms, a forgotten movie playing on the screen, casting them in a bluish light in the dark room. My heart burst at the sight as I pulled out my phone to take a picture, wanting to keep this treasured memory with me forever. A few moments later, Joe wakes up, making sure not to startle the sleeping children in his arms.

“Evening Y/N,” Joe said, his voice still coated with sleep, sounding as handsome as ever. His auburn locks were sprawl across his forehead, and I fell in love again at the sight of him, reminding myself of how lucky I was to have him in my life.

“Evening looks like you three had a fun night,” I said, looking at the half-eaten bowl of popcorn left on the coffee table, and the opened boxes of candy on the floor.

“Friday night is movie night babe,” Joe replied, his eyes still waking up. “These guys finally wanted to watch Jurassic Park.” He finished with a small smile on his face, as he stares down at the two children tucked underneath his arms, each one a splitting image of him with their auburn hair, but our daughter with ringlet curls. “I think I know how they feel about it.” He laughed, with love coating his eyes.

“I’m sure they loved it dear, it just been a long day,” I said making my way over to the couch, gently setting myself down to not disturb our children while they slept. “They are pretty cute when they’re not driving us crazy.” I smile, touching our daughter's hairs, as our son sinks deeper into Joe’s side and I fall more in love with them at every passing moment.

“They really are.” He smiled the same smile he had the day each of them was born. From the moment I got pregnant with our daughter I did not doubt that Joe was going to be a great dad, and he hasn’t let me down yet. “What do you say about one more?” he asked with a smirk forming on his face, and playful eyes.

“I say we get these kids to bed and discuss it next date night, then maybe, I’ll give you an answer,” I said, carefully picking up our daughter, while Joe carries our son.

“I like the way you think babe.” Joe presses a quick kiss to my cheek before we head up the stairs with each child in hand.

“I’m glad someone does,” I replied.

After putting the children to bed and cleaning up the living room, a task taking longer with every kiss and touch Joe and I steal from one another, we retreated to our bedroom for the night, having changed into our PJs. Lying in bed, a script in my hand, as I meticulously scribble notes on the pages, I watched Joe as he brushed his teeth, thinking about how lucky I was to have him in my life.

“Joe, were you serious earlier?” I asked, the image replaying in my head of the two times I told him we were expecting, how excited he was every time as the news brought tears into his eyes.

“About what?” Joe replied, his mouth full of toothpaste. He looked adorable with the foam muffling his words.

“About another kid? Do you really want another kid, Joesph Francis Mazzello III?”

“I want as many as you want Y/N,” Joe said as clear as day, having rinsed his mouth. He made his way back to the bed, beginning to leave a trail of kisses on my neck, and I can’t help but melt into his embrace. “But one more wouldn’t hurt.” Joe’s beautiful puppy dog eyes looked at me with so much love, it was hard to say no.

“We do make some pretty cute kids,” I said sinking further as he wrapped his arms around me. “Plus, I wouldn’t mind another curly haired ginger running around the house.”

“You really want to do this?” Joe asked loved radiating from his eyes.

“After I’m done with this project, Why not? We’ve done it twice before. The third time would be nothing.”

“Have I told you how much I love you, Y/N?” He asked, peppering my face with kisses, as he moves on top of me.

“Only every single day,” I replied, kissing his lips with as much passion as I can muster. “However, tonight, I just want to sleep. I’m tired,” I admitted with a yawn, Joe moving back to his side of the bed, as he begins to spoon me.

“That sounds great babe.” I feel his arms wrap around me, as he pulls me closer to his chest, and I love how warm he is, as he rests his head by my shoulder, and I can’t help but smile at how lucky I am.

[padfootagain]

Will You Still Be Here In The Morning? (IV)

Part 4 : The World That Ended

 Okay, here we go, part 4, one left to post, still this extremely long fic of mine, don't panic.

Still a bit of angst, it's getting better though.

I hope you like it, tell me what you think of it :)

Gif not mine

Word Count : 4298

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

The demon was driving aimlessly through the streets of London. The night was pitch black, and another kind of shadow growing inside him seemed to cover the light of the lampposts too. He was crying.

Too fast… too fast?! After six millennia? He had given the angel a lift home before, it was nothing so special, he just…

He just wanted to spend some time with Aziraphale. Every waken minute, if he could, or even every minute no matter if he was lost to dreams or awake, but… even a demon could have dreams, right? He wasn't asking for so much though. Just… a ride to the bookshop. Maybe Aziraphale would have invited him inside, and they would have drunk one of the angel's best bottles of red wine, and talked about the years they had been apart and…

Heaven and Hell and invisible barriers that kept them apart. He knew all about those. He knew how Aziraphale kept the boundary up. Maybe it was for the best, Crowley had to believe it was, at least.

Maybe one day we could… go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz…

Did it mean that Aziraphale wanted that too? Wanted… more than the arrangement, but he was just too scared and too…

Crowley already hated Heaven but now, his wrath reached whole new heights.

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

The demon's expression relaxed as it saddened. The anger, the confusion wore out, fading to let resilience course through his veins instead. He had waited six thousand years, he would wait six thousand more if needed. He would accept whatever Aziraphale was ready to give him, even if it was only friendship forever. It would already be more than enough.

He didn't even realize his Bentley was slowing down as he drove through London's sleepy streets.

He hadn't felt like he was pushing the angel forward. He hadn't felt like his invitation to drive him wherever he wanted to go was too much. But if Aziraphale had felt this way, then, he guessed he ought to slow down all the same. He had to be more careful.

Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz…

Oh… if only they could…

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

 "So, this is what you've been up to for these past few weeks!"

Crowley was grinning, so proud of himself as cars kept on honking and angry drivers exchanged sweet names through the motionless traffic. They walked across Trafalgar Square and towards the National Gallery as Aziraphale was finishing his cheesecake.

Turning off all the traffic lights in London had asked weeks of preparation, but it was worth the hard work. Crowley could feel the anger oozing from every single driver and pedestrian in the city. He was a genius…

"Well, maybe the antichrist is planning the apocalypse right now, but nevertheless, I am still a demon, and I had to do some mischief, angel."

"Of course," Aziraphale replied, a little annoyed. "Still… Crowley, look at the chaos around here!"

"That was the point, angel. That was the whole point. Can't you feel how angry they are?"

"Yes, dear. I can."

"This planned worked so well!"

"Except that you lost an hour stuck in the Bentley, and we had to walk here, as you had forgotten it was set for today…"

Crowley merely glared at the angel by his side in response, who was wearing his smug face again. The bastard…

Aziraphale threw away the empty box of his cheesecake before they walked inside the museum. They wondered for a while through the gallery, in silence for the most part, until they reached the impressionists section.

Aziraphale had always thought it very strange that his and Crowley's favourite Monet had been put right next to each other, and that a bench had been added to the room right when the two paintings had been exposed there. He couldn't tell Crowley that he was suspecting one of his complicated schemes, of course. Nevertheless, he liked to believe it was Crowley's fault that the Water-lilies, setting sun and The water-lily pond had found themselves side by side, with a bench perfectly placed to admire both of the paintings.

If he had asked, Crowley would have fiercely blushed, and denied it all, and he would have been a terrible liar.

Aziraphale heaved a content sigh as he sat down on the bench that had miraculously been freed a couple of seconds before. The little crowd that had been watching the paintings dissolved, and the angel and the demon could admire Monet's game of colours in peace, between the vivid greens of the pond and the deep reds and purples of the sunset.

"Anything new on your side then?" Aziraphale asked, glancing over at Crowley on his right.

"Nothing so far. You?"

"Not a word."

"Warlock is doing okay."

"Yes, I know. He got an A at his maths test, although he got a C+ in literature…"

"Everyone can't be as passionate as you are about books, angel."

"I guess not… still… a C, Crowley!"

"Have you heard of that Kevin again?"

"No, nothing. I surely hope not, the little tyrant…"

"Good."

"You've never told me how you 'handled' the situation though."

"It's been dealt with."

"Crowley… what have you done?"

The demon rolled his eyes at the angel's worried tone.

"Nothing harmful, of course. Who do you think I am, angel? I wouldn't hurt a child!"

"I know, dear, that's not what I meant," Aziraphale defended himself. "Although, you can be… intimidating, sometimes."

"Intimidating? Really?"

"Yes. You are a demon, after all. Your little game with the traffic lights today proves it."

"I merely talked to the child, that's all. And threatened to kill his dog if he ever bullied Warlock again."

"Crowley!"

"I'm kidding! I just talked to him. Relax, angel."

They remained silent for a moment, Aziraphale wiggling a little next to Crowley in that swift, discontented movement that showed he was annoyed. It made the demon smile.

The visitors who walked in the room didn't seem willing to disturb the two men who were observing the two Monet paintings at the centre of the room. None of them dared to walk between the bench and the artworks. Many who looked at the two men though wondered who they were to each other, and found them a little strange. The one before the pond all dressed in pastel colours and an old-looking white coat, his hair impossibly white. And sitting right next to him, before the sunset, a tall silhouette wrapped in black except for his red collar, hair of a vibrant red, long strands held back out of his face but still cascading to brush his shoulders. He was wearing dark sunglasses, which was without a doubt the strangest accessory to wear in an art gallery. They sat close to each other, and yet a few inches apart. Many wondered if they would finally reach out and hold hands…

"His dad is away again," Crowley spoke after a while.

"I know," Aziraphale heaved a sigh. "He's feeling lonelier again."

"We could drop by. You know… as Brother Francis and Nanny Astoreth again. Still have the outfit."

"I am not so sure that it would be good for him."

"I think it would. He liked us."

"When he was four."

"He's eight. He's still little. And he's… lonely. It's a terrible feeling, loneliness."

Aziraphale struggled to keep a neutral expression.

"I know," he nodded. "There's nothing we can do though, Crowley. We should stay out of the way now. We've done our best."

"We could be doing more."

"And what could that be? We've tried to educate the child in both good and evil. Now, whether he leans towards the light or the dark depends on him, and him alone. We can only keep an eye on him now, and make sure he's fine."

Crowley slowly nodded. There was nothing else to discuss concerning the antichrist, heaven, hell, God and Satan. Instead, the demon hoped to drive the conversation towards another topic, any topic, really, as long as it meant staying there, in front of the paintings, with Aziraphale.

"I heard they were opening a new bakery down your street," he told Aziraphale, guessing that talking about food was always a fine way to keep the conversation going.

"Yes! I can't wait for it to open, to be honest! Apparently, they will have a lot of French pastries! And now, although I agree that there is a lot you can say about the French, anyone has to admit that their pastries are scrumptious."

"Indeed."

"Are you still struggling with this orchid of yours?"

"No, tamed the thing in the end. It's beautiful."

"Crowley, really, the poor plants…"

"I destroyed one of the plants who had a spot on a leaf a couple of days ago, taught them all a lesson."

Aziraphale gave him a tender smile.

"Now, where did you really put that plant, dear?"

Crowley mumbled under his breath, before answering.

"I planted it in Regent's Park."

Aziraphale couldn't stifle a laugh.

"Shut up!" Crowley protested.

"You really are incredible, sometimes, dear."

Crowley wanted to reply with a snarky remark, a clever answer, he wanted to be witty. But all he could do was to try to stop the blush from rising to his cheeks and slow down his heart.

He was very well aware of how close to his Aziraphale's fingers rested on the wooden bench. Just a few millimetres away. It felt like six thousand years though…

And Aziraphale was perfectly aware that a tiny movement towards the demon would have closed the distance between their fingers, he knew it was nothing, just a few millimetres. And yet, it was a distance impossible to cross.

Their fingers thus remained there, resting on the bench, so close, within reach, and yet apart.

"Angel?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I really like these paintings, don't you?"

The angel's throat tightened, and he held back the tears that suddenly formed in his eyes. He recognized the hidden meaning in these words. They truly meant stay, please, stay a little longer.

"Yes… Yes, I like them quite a lot as well," he answered with a nod, his voice a little deeper than usual, a little unsteady too.

Crowley smiled. The words sounded like something more, they sounded like a Yes, I will stay, for now.

And for now, it had to be enough.

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

 The world was still there. Fragile, flawed, and yet still there. Still beautiful in its own imperfect way. Still full of hope despite being stained with despair. Still loving despite all the hate spreading through its cracks.

The world had not ended, after all. It was still there, spinning around the sun at 1,037 miles per hour. Atlantis was gone, and the bookshop was back, and the Bentley was all but burnt. Aziraphale and Crowley didn't know all that yet though. All they knew was that the Earth was still there, spinning, getting hotter and hotter by the second, coughing in carbon dioxide and other pollutants, filled with leaves stretching towards the moon and fireflies buzzing through stony lanes and buildings.

They had taken a bus out of Tadfield and back to London. For now, they thought the bookshop, just like the Bentley, were gone. And maybe they still were for now, maybe Adam would need the night to put things back the way they were before Armageddon.

They were in Crowley's apartment, the only safe place left. None of them doubted that Heaven and Hell would come for them in the morning. Moreover, Agnes's prophecy was adamant in stating that they were not out of trouble yet. They didn't doubt that they had until dawn though.

Crowley had forgotten about the pool of water and blood and fused bones that Ligur had become when he fell into Crowley's trap, and both he and Aziraphale froze at the sight.

"Ha, yes… that's…"

"Is it Ligur?" Aziraphale asked with disgust painted all over his features.

"What's left of him," Crowley nodded. "Hang on, I must have a mop somewhere…"

"Don't be ridiculous! Stay here!" the angel stopped him as Crowley was taking a step towards the putrid pool. "Who knows if the holy water could still be effective! Stay here, I'll do it."

"It's okay, angel."

"Crowley!"

"Alright, alright…"

Aziraphale only had to miracle Ligur's remains away, and it was all safe for Crowley to walk into his office again.

"Thank you, angel."

"You're welcome. Where is that book then?"

"In my bedroom, on the left."

They walked through the flat, Aziraphale grinning at the sight of Crowley's plants, to the demon's bedroom.

Just like the rest of the flat, it was simple and decorated with taste, although Aziraphale found it a little bare. Crowley reached for a book hidden under his bedside table and sat down on his bed, soon joined by Aziraphale.

"So, the prediction talked about choosing faces… You're sure?" Crowley asked, but the angel nodded with confidence.

"I remember something about that… in here…"

"I didn't know you were interested in old magic."

"Rituals and runes can come in handy once in a while."

Aziraphale hummed in agreement while Crowley frantically turned the pages of the book, a little too frantically to the angel's taste, actually. The poor book…

"Ha! Here! Knew it!"

He showed Aziraphale the page of the ritual he had remembered… that would allow them to exchange their faces.

"So… we could use it for me to look like you and you to look like me, right?" Aziraphale asked, quickly studying the ritual.

"I think so, yes. Do you think it's what Agnes meant?"

"Quite literally, yes. Then, I could get down to Hell, and you can take my place in Heaven."

But Crowley snatched the book out of Aziraphale's hands, shaking his head.

"We can't do that, angel. There must be another way, it's too dangerous."

"There's no other way, Crowley. They will come for us. We can't hide forever."

"Why not?"

"Don't talk about Alpha Centauri again."

"We could run away, Aziraphale."

But the angel shook his head, although his expression both saddened and softened, a touch of melancholy colouring his eyes.

"We can't run away forever, Crowley. I can't…"

"It's too dangerous!"

"No. No, it's time… it's time to get free of them."

Crowley's mouth slightly opened, agape, as he stared at Aziraphale with both confusion and hope oozing from his entire frame.

"Can you… can you take off your glasses, please?" the angel asked out of the blue.

"Why?"

"Because this conversation is important, and I want to be looking at you while we're having it."

Crowley swallowed, but obeyed, taking off his glasses and putting them down onto his bedside table, before turning towards Aziraphale again.

Crowley always felt naked without his sunglasses, fragile, it was like taking off his entire armour and revealing his very soul. But it was Aziraphale looking back at him, and if there was one person in the entire universe Crowley believed in, without any doubt, without any hesitation, it was him. If there was anyone the demon would trust his soul and heart with, it was Aziraphale.

"Crowley I… I know we've… I have always been cautious and I know sometimes I've made sure to… keep you at arm's length. I just… I'm just so scared of what Hell could do to you. It could have been you, Crowley, that disgusting soup on your floor! It could have been you instead of Ligur!"

"But it wasn't."

"It could have been. And now, they know, Crowley. They know about us, they know what we are to each other, and nor Heaven nor Hell is going to stop until they have found us and punished us for what we've done about Armageddon, but also for what we mean to each other."

Crowley narrowed his eyes a little, before blowing through his nose an annoyed breath.

"And what could that be? Fraternizing still?"

"Oh, you can't be serious, right now!" Aziraphale shot back with a glare. "Are you really bringing Saint James's Park back?"

"I don't know. You were fraternizing with me then. Like we were mere acquaintances!"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I don't know it, angel! Unlike you, I don't have a super power allowing me to detect what people feel, okay? I don't work like that. I can't know if you don't tell me!"

"You're my best friend, Crowley!"

The demon froze.

"For God's sake!" Aziraphale went on with anger. "Of course, you are, you are my only friend, you have been since… since forever, really. Don't tell me it's not…"

His voice died out.

"Anyway," he calmed down, looking away from Crowley's neutral expression. "We are on our own side now, as you said. And we need to break free from them. Both Heaven and Hell. It's our only way to get out of it alive and free, it's now or never, Crowley. And I… I trust you. More than anyone, more than myself. I know you will come back. I am… terrified at the idea of sending you up there, but it's the only way we'll both get out of this alive. We need to trust each other on this. And I do trust you, with my life, but most importantly, with yours. And you need to trust me too."

Aziraphale was looking down at his feet, conscious of Crowley's stare set upon him, but unable to hold it.

They remained wrapped in silence for a moment, while Crowley's eyes drifted from the angel's face to the side of his arm, and finally, to his hand resting on the mattress. Perfectly manicured, as always, his golden ring wrapped around his pinky finger, as always.

He had longed to reach out and take his hand for six thousand years. The only temptation he had thought he would never been able to bend to.

But then, Aziraphale had taken his hand in the bus from Tadfield. Maybe it was simply the shock of it all. Maybe he simply needed support from a friend. Or maybe…

Maybe it was a step towards more than they had ever had. A step towards more than maybe, perhaps, one day, almost…

He took a deep breath, and dived, reaching across the mattress to close the space between their fingers, merely a few inches, but these inches were much more than inches right now. They were six thousand years of reaching but never touching, and thousands questions unasked out of fear, of banned affection and forbidden friendship, and fear, oh, so much fear for such a long time. And through all that, it was also all these times where they had reached and almost touched, almost given up, almost thrown cautious to the wind and leaned into their feelings.

It was an impossibly great distance to cross, a distance he had not crossed in six thousand years, but he was crossing it now.

Aziraphale's skin was soft, warm, reassuring, the most reassuring sensation he had ever experienced. Suddenly, he didn't feel alone anymore. He felt like he belonged, right there, by Aziraphale's side, holding his hand. Yes, yes… in this great ineffable plan, that was exactly where Crowley was meant to be: holding Aziraphale's hand.

The angel intertwined their fingers together and finally looked up at Crowley, who greeted him with a tender smile.

"I do trust you, angel. More than I trust myself. I'm just… I'm just scared something could go sour, and I wouldn't be able to reach you on time…"

"It's the only way, Crowley. And I… we need to break free now."

The demon slowly nodded.

"I think you're right."

"It's the only way."

"I know."

"We should try it. See if it works."

"But before we do it, you have to promise me something, Aziraphale."

"What is it?"

Crowley's eyes became more intense, with a touch of desperation too, and the angel couldn't fail to notice that the white that usually encircled his irises had disappeared, revealing their true appearance.

And God almighty, how beautiful his eyes were… Aziraphale had always loved them beyond measure…

"Promise me, this time, that you'll still be here in the morning."

Crowley's eyes drowned in tears he had been holding back for six thousand years, his heart swelled with feelings he had been refraining ever since that moment on the walls of Eden, and he was fragile and raw and beautiful as Aziraphale stared at him with all his layers of armours willingly stripped away from him. For so long now he had been asking that question, and for so long Aziraphale had never dared to answer.

But for now, Aziraphale couldn’t speak. Because he could recognize that feeling Crowley had been hiding for so long, he could see it so clearly in the tears running down his cheeks, in the glint in his amber eyes, in the tremor of his parted lips. And he wanted to tell him that he felt this way too… he wanted to tell him all these words he had longed to confess for years, but hadn't dared to, too afraid of being heard, of putting Crowley in danger. If only he could truly speak his mind, he would have wrapped his arms around Crowley and spoke words he had longed to let out ever since that night in the church in 1941, as the dust settled down and he was standing there in the ruins and flames with Crowley and he finally put words on the way he had been feeling for millennia.

I love you. I've always loved. It has taken me so long to finally realize it was true love, but it's been all along. It's always been you, it will always be. I love you, so passionately, so absolutely. I've never cared that you were a demon, I was just so afraid of what Hell could do to you if they knew how I felt for you. I should have run away with you when you asked me to. We could have gone to Alpha Centauri, and live in the stars you've built, and it would have been enough. But now, it's the opportunity to build a side of our own. Crowley, we could build a side where it wouldn't be wrong for me to love you, and for you to love me back. Darling, please, I love you. I would do anything for you. Please, please, stay into my life. I will be here in the morning, if you let me. Please, stay, stay… Crowley, please, stay. Stay forever.

He couldn’t say all that, not now… they weren't fully free yet, but… Heaven and Hell were not looking for them just yet. They would in the morning, dawn would bring their wrath. But for now, it was still night time. Now, the sky was still as dark as ink, still stained with shining lights, and fireflies still flew in ruins of a roman forum far away, and stars were so bright, and it was just the two of them, and no one was looking… And if Aziraphale couldn’t confess everything, he could make a promise.

Crowley was not expecting Aziraphale to wrap his arms around him, and yet he was fast at reciprocating the gesture. They held each other tightly, both of them trembling, both of them crying, both of them feeling safer than they had ever felt. And suddenly, Aziraphale didn't feel alone anymore. He felt like he belonged, right there, wrapped in Crowley's embrace. Yes, yes… in this great ineffable plan, that was exactly where Aziraphale was meant to be: in Crowley's arms.

When the angel finally answered, his voice was made hoarse by overwhelming emotions and tears he couldn't fight against.

"I will be here, Crowley. I promise. I will be here in the morning. I will. I will…"

Crowley's hands turned into fists, he buried his face in the crook of the angel's neck, holding on Aziraphale's coat as if his life depended it on it… because it did. He let out a shaky breath.

"You know… when I entered the bookshop, and you weren't there, I thought… I thought…"

"I know, Crowley. I'm sorry. I was discorporated, for my defence."

"I thought I would never see you again," Crowley went on, crying, the tears falling unrestrained like the first raindrops on Eden. "Angel, I can't… I can't lose you, I…"

"You won't. I won't lose you either. It won't happen, because we'll be prepared, and when they come for us, we'll show them that they have to let us go."

"I thought you were gone… I can't live through that again. I can't…"

"You won't have to. And I won't let any of them hurt you either. We'll be fine. Crowley, I promise. It could be over tomorrow, we could finally be free."

"And then? What will happen then?"

Aziraphale struggled to get the words out, but he did, his heart still in his chest and his lungs unable to let any air out, and yet he did speak.

"Then we can build our own side."

Crowley pulled away, staring at Aziraphale, staring at these blue eyes he dreamt of more often than not, searching for any trace of hesitation, of fear, but he found none. He only found determination. And it was all he needed to see.

He slowly nodded, before drying his face on his sleeve, standing and putting on his sunglasses again.

"Right. For the ritual, what do we need, angel?"

Aziraphale smiled, before turning to the book again.

It was now or never, it was their only chance, and they were determined to make it count.

**********************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@madamrogers @secret-jester @allegra-the-witch @damalseer @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @draqcnheartstrinq @colddecember-night @allknowingnerd @bluebaggins @mundieoriley @kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls @yana-versio @hellojawsie @littlee–onee  thank you all for your support during the marathon that this week turned into!!

[shewhowantsmouseears]

weblena fairy-tale Au drabble

so I wanted to give this a shot, and I attempted to make it a short fluffy thing but my brain said NO, LONG, ANGST, brain i just want cute dokidokis NO I WANT DRAMA goddammit brain can we try to do both NO PROMISES

anyway here you are

Sometimes it was amusing to just watch Webby work her magic – or attempt her magic. At times, it felt a little mean, but Lena would never call herself a nice person. So she stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrow raised as she saw Webby making all sorts of ridiculous poses with her wand before dramatically pointing it at one of Lena's old clothes. The wand would make a few sputtering noises, like a fish gasping for air, before letting out a few pink sparks, and that was all. Webby would grunt in frustration, and then the process would start all over again.

Lena glanced at what Webby was trying to enchant. Given Lena's horrid living conditions under her aunt, her clothes were limited. If it fit, it stayed, no matter how ugly, ragged or dirty it got. The dress laying on a wooden chair had reached the point of no return, and nowadays was being used as a rag to clean the windows. There was no love lost there, so her attentions easily turned back to the young fairy who waved her arms like a flapping hummingbird. Webby's determination could be incredibly annoying or rather endearing, depending on her goal at the moment. Lena could tell that Webby would be at this all day, so she mercifully cleared her throat as Webby tried to stand on her head.

With a surprised “oof!”, Webby rolled over onto her back, glancing up at who interrupted her concentration. “Oh. Hi Lena! You're home early.”

“The old hag said I was getting in her way.” Lena shrugged one shoulder dismissively. “So, you plan on telling me what you're doing, or do I get to play the guessing game? Reminder, I'm not fond of that game.”

“It was going to be a surprise... if I got it right.” Webby finally sat up, before getting on her feet and brushing herself down. “As you know, I managed to convince Lord Scrooge McDuck to throw a birthday ball for the boys!”

“'Convince' is an interesting choice of words,” Lena mused, recalling how Webby had spent five straight days attaching herself to Scrooge's leg with “please please please” uttered after every breath. That was the most she knew about what happened, anyway – she chose to spend limited time in the nearby kingdom, as her reputation wasn't exactly stellar. She had no idea how Webby had, completely accidentally, charmed Scrooge over with an adventure involving mythical creatures and a kazoo. Then again, if she had been told, she wouldn't have been terribly surprised. Webby had an odd way of worming into people's hearts. Lena was convinced Webby could get anyone to adore her – anyone save Magica, but then, Magica was only capable of loving herself.

“Everybody's going to come,” Webby continued, “and that includes you. This will be your big moment, your grand introduction into high society! I've got it all figured it out. We wait until the majority of the kingdom has arrived, the party's in full swing, the music's about to start.” By this point Webby had begun to pantomime the ball's events, which led her to miss Lena's eyerolling. Lena had no interest in princes, balls, dances, or any of that hoity-toity garbage. What a waste of time and money. “Just then, you arrive, and in the world's most beautiful dress! Everybody stares in awe at this mysterious, alluring goddess! Who could she be?”

“A-huh.” Lena  felt heat rising in her cheeks. She had no idea why Webby tended to use such... unusual vocabulary when it came to describing Lena, but it wasn't always unwelcome. “Let me guess. One of the princes sees me, falls for me, we dance some romantic waltz, night ends, I leave, he pines, blah blah blah, happily ever after.”

Webby paused, glancing over at her pet project. “I'm getting the feeling you're not exactly excited about this.”

“What was your first clue?”

“Aw, c'mon, balls are fun! … So I've heard.”

“Pass.” Lena walked into the room, figuring she might as well get a head-start on her chores as long as she was here. Maybe she could rearrange the spell-books and try to find one Magica wouldn't miss.

“But think of all the friends you could make!” Webby tagged along after her.

“Pass.”

“It'll be a night away from Magica!”

“Pass.”

“... There's free food?”

Lena hesitated, her hand on one green tome wedged between two red ones. She glanced at Webby, she of hopeful desires and sparkles in her eyes. “... If they have those little hot dogs, I might go.”

“YAY YOU'RE GOING!” Webby cheered out loud, bouncing around the room for a moment before retreating back to the chair and dress. “You're going to have the night of your life! Everyone's going to love you! They won't be able to take your eyes off you!” She then pointed the wand at the dress and... nothing. Her entire body deflated. “... Soon as I can master this spell.”

“What is this spell, anyway?” Lena resumed pushing the books back and forth. “I've seen you change your look a dozen times, why's this one so hard for you?”

“Different materials, I think.” Webby tugged down on her skirt. “Fae don't typically give a hoot about what they wear, beyond their favorite colors. We're supposed to have a 'we look good in anything' attitude. Besides, this is totally different. It's you! You deserve to have a really lovely dress! One that wows everyone!”

“You're thinking about this too hard.” Lena pulled out an especially thin tome to lightly tap Webby on the head. “Look, putting a nice dress on a donkey doesn't change the fact that it's still a donkey.”

Webby looked aghast, a hand to her chest. “You are not a donkey!”

“Pack-mule?” Lena smirked, mostly kidding, but Webby still wore a look of abject horror. Lena flipped the book back into its proper place on the shelf. Nearby, a vanity mirror hung in place, and Lena avoided her reflection. “Fact is, I'm not charming anyone. So just relax, and put me in... whatever. Never really cared about what I wore.” Granted, this was mostly because she had no say in the matter. Magica would never spend good coin on fancying up what was essentially her slave. “Here, how about this?” She placed the chair aside, and gestured to herself. “Maybe you'll have better luck on something I'm actually wearing.”

Webby bit down, unsure. The idea did have merit, and there was one famous Fairy Godmother who had done exactly that. On the other hand, that same Godmother was widely ridiculed for giving her charge glass slippers, of all things. “I... guess I could try? If it's okay with you.”

“I'm standing right here. It's okay with me.”

Webby looked down at her hand, rolling it in her fingers. Well, nothing was going to get done if she wasn't confident about it. This was for Lena, who deserved the best things in life, and thus, the best attempts. Perhaps she was looking at the spell all wrong. Now that she Lena in front of her, she could try to visualize something beyond a vague pretty dress.  She inhaled deeply, and took a step back, willing up the magic in her veins, closing her eyes, focusing on one singular thought.

I want everyone to see you... the way I see you.

There was no silly arm movements this time – just one simple wave of her wand, which let out a colorful stream of rich blues like ocean water, and it suddenly swirled around Lena, who made a startled noise in her throat – to be fair, she hadn't thought this would work. She merely wanted Webby to give up and move on to her next insane plan, so her feelings wouldn't be hurt too much. So much for that plan.

Lena shut her eyes as well, not wanting to admit she was a little scared. Webby would never intentionally harm her, but Lena had seen the worst that magic could do, under Magica's hand. But there was no pain here, because this wasn't a punishment. She felt a cooling breeze, a soft embrace, serenity throughout her skin and feathers. Her clothes were changing, she could feel it, but it wasn't just that. She felt changes on her fingers through her hair and on her face, and she had to swallow an urge to scream. But it was as over as quickly as it had started, and she allowed herself to sigh in relief. She was still whole, in one piece.

Webby was the first one to open her eyes, and when she did, she never wanted to close them again. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she found herself making an undignified “Uh.”

Lena couldn't help but burst into laughter, opening her eyes next. “That bad, huh? I told you, Webby...” But she trailed off, now able to see Webby's reaction. It wasn't embarrassment, humiliation, or even disgust. Her eyes were wide, her jaw hanging open, and her cheeks were flushed so red that for half a second Lena wondered if she injured herself somehow. Webby was struggling, and failing, to make a coherent sentence. Her pupils danced around, trying to accurately record everything about Lena. “I. It. You.” It was adorable, but also worrying.

“What?” Lena asked, and got no answer. She huffed, and reluctantly went to the mirror, as clearly that was the only thing that was going to help her right now. “What's the big deal?”

Wait... who was this stranger that entered the house? After several long seconds, Lena understood that the stranger was her.

The torn patches of brown cloth were gone. Here was a ballroom dress of night-sky blue, with stars and constellations around every curve. As she raised her hand to touch her cheek, she could see that a strip of cloth from each sleeve extended to her middle fingers, a golden ring around the first knuckle. Her lips were gently coated in the colors of the cosmos, her hair having grown long enough to spiral down her shoulder, with different shades of galaxies and stardust. As she felt her skin, she knew this was real,  and every small moment revealed another universe of night, all encompassing and all welcoming.

“Is this... me?” It was a stupid question, but Lena wasn't feeling particularly brilliant at the moment. How was this possible? All her life she'd been told, and thus was convinced, she was an ugly little girl, a worthless cretin, a waste of space and skin. The world was full of lovely creatures and she simply wasn't one of them. Yet here she stood, and she could not deny that she looked beautiful, even as it felt weird to even think it.

It's just magic, the cynical side of her tried to speak up. It's not the real you. And it was tempting to believe this. But she spotted Webby in the mirror too – still sporting that stunned stupid expression – and knew that Webby wouldn't have tried to change Lena into something else entirely. She merely... brought out what was possible in people. A nice dress, a bit of make-up, but in the end it was still her. It was still her face, and her body, and it always had the potential to be anything Lena wished it could. She felt her eyes grew wet, and immediately tried to put a stop to it by rubbing her face. “I, um... that's not half bad.” She choked, a messed-up laugh following. “Th-thanks, Webby, I... It looks good. I mean it.”

Webby needed a minute to realize she was being spoken to, and it finally brought her back to reality. “Oh! Oh, yeah, I, um. Hm! Yes. Good. Very good.” It felt like her mouth was falling down the stairs. She glanced down at her wand, in disbelief that she had done it. But, hey! Maybe she was closer to Fairy Godmother status than she thought! The moment Lena stepped into the ballroom, everyone would be on their knees for a proposal. She could see the entire scene now – Lena walking down the long entrance stairs, her hand on the wooden railing, the other lightly picking up her dress to keep from tripping. Heads would turn, and the music would falter before picking up again, but softer and lighter this time. The warm candles would illuminate her eyes, her heels clicking quietly on the floor, and then she would find the one she was meant to be with, and their eyes would lock, and then she... she would take their hand, and... and, uh... they would... do the dancing... thing... and... gosh it was getting hard to think.

Lena was hesitant to move, not wanting to rip the dress, but she didn't want to stay in one place either. Placing her faith in her balance, she walked up to Webby, and gently took her hands. “You're pretty amazing, you know?”

Webby was, again, at a loss for words, which was nuts because she was proud of her extended vocabulary. Her palms felt sweaty, and she wanted to let go of Lena but she also didn't want to let go of Lena. Maybe it was the heels Lena was wearing but Webby was suddenly very aware of the height difference between them – and the fact that her heart was beating so fast she would've thought the next ten kingdoms over could hear it. “I try,” she squeaked, giggling nervously before making another attempt. “But, but yeah! No one will be able to tear themselves away from you at the ball! If the boys don't fall head over heels in love with you after they see you in this, they've got no taste.”

“I suppose so.” Lena couldn't care less what the boys thought, or what anyone else thought for that matter. “If this dress is a combination of you and me together, then I'd say our taste is fantastic.” She held Webby's hands up to her chest and hear Webby make a sound similar to a frog croaking. It felt mean to tease her like this – but, again, Lena didn't consider herself to be nice. “But even with these fancy duds on... I still have no idea what goes on at those parties. How to act, or how to dance... it would be helpful if my fairy godmother came along for the ride.”

“... Really?” Was Webby allowed to tend to such events? She racked her head, trying to think of a time when that was considered inappropriate, but didn't find any answers. “... Okay! Sure! I'll be right beside you! I've never been to one, but I'll do all the research! I'm sure they've got some kind of dancing tutor up in that castle, how hard can it be? I'll be your wingman! Winggirl!”

“You could go as my friend.” Lena suggested.

Webby gasped. “I could go as your friend!” She repeated. What a novel concept! “Oooh, this is going to be great! I'll introduce you to everyone! 'Hey, everyone, this is Lena! She's my best friend'! And then they'll want to know all about you, so I get to tell them, and then they'll want to know about me, and I'll tell them...” Webby continued babbling about all the entertaining possibilities, and Lena allowed her to ramble.

It was always all about Lena, wasn't it? What did Webby get out of this? Sure, she wanted to rise up the ranks and go from being a mere fairy to a Fairy Godmother, but still, this didn't feel like a job. Webby actually cared about Lena's happiness, which was still puzzling to Lena herself. What had she done to deserve it? It didn't seem fair – especially when Lena still didn't want to follow the destiny Webby was so sure was set out for her. She didn't want to marry a guy she barely knew and live like a pompous jerk. This was all just a step in a road to disappointment, and guilt weighed heavily on Lena's heart.

Without warning, Lena pulled Webby into her arms, holding her tight, and Webby shut up instantly. Webby was now sure that Lena must feel Webby's rapidly beating heart and wasn't mentioning it to be polite. She swallowed, and tried to turn her head. “Lena?”

The right thing to do would be to let Webby go and tell her to get out, and never return. The right thing to do would be to tell Webby that no matter what she tried, Lena would make her own footsteps. The right thing to do would be to stop stringing Webby along so she could give someone else the care she was so eager to give. But Lena was not good. She was not nice. She was... she was a wretched, awful person. She was the niece of the wicked Magica De Spell. There was no changing that, no matter how pretty she could become on the outside.

Webby pulled back enough to see Lena's face, and didn't understand the agony forming in Lena's eyes. “What's wrong? What can I do?”

Lena was afraid if she spoke, everything would spill out. She lightly touched Webby's cheek, mentally begging for forgiveness that she knew she didn't deserve.

Webby didn't blink. Ye gods and goddesses, if Prince Charming didn't want to kiss Lena once he got this close, he would have to be out of his mind. Curious how her mind went that way. And – maybe – if Lena didn't know how to – not that Webby did either – would it be so wrong if – you know – maybe-  just maybe – they could practice before – these things were important – practice -

POOF!

A blue fluff of smoke billowed around Lena, and in the space of a second, she was back to rags and dirt. Both girls looked down at the sudden transformation, looked at each other, and then, in a great wave of relief, began laughing hysterically. Lena lost the strength in her legs and wound up on the floor with Webby still in her arms, and they laughed and kicked around until they could no longer breathe. As they struggled to catch their breath, they wound up on their backs, fighting tears, slapping the floor.

“Was that even five minutes?!” Lena managed to break a sentence free before going back into gleeful giggles.

“Oh, shut up!” Webby replied, rolling back and forth, trying to cover her mouth with her hands. “I'm getting better! I just need more practice!”

“That dress wouldn't have even lasted through one song!”

“It would have lasted for a couple of bars!”

“Oh, really? Do, rei, mi, POOF!” And they wound up laughing all over again, grateful to not be thinking about what they were formerly thinking about.

This went on for some time, managing to get their act together only to collapse into more fits soon after. Eventually Lena resumed her chores, with Webby's help, and as always Webby made sure to leave long before Magica returned home so no suspicion could be met. The ball wouldn't be for several weeks, so there was plenty of time for Webby to perfect the spell.

But those weeks would seem awfully long, especially when there were nights neither of them could sleep, wracked with thoughts of things that were supposed to be, and things that they wished could be.

The next time Lena saw starlight, she wept, for reasons known only to herself.

[petuniatom]

if you don't know, let me go

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Summary: “I love you,” you spoke. You felt liberated as soon as the words left your lips. It felt nice to say it.

 Harrison’s eyes shot over to you, utterly confused. It was silent for a moment in the apartment. A sense of dread loomed over you. “Oh,” he said. 

OR

You’ve been dating Harrison for five months at this point, and now, you’re ready to cross another boundary with each other by finally saying the three words you’ve been meaning to say all along. 

Rating: T (angst to eventual fluff)

Word count: 2.8K 

Warnings: References to alcohol

A/N: Written for @tomsh0lland‘s 5sos writing challenge. Congrats on nearing 10.9K dear!! Pls follow her if you aren’t yet. (Also there are some serious Mr. Big x Carrie Bradshaw vibes in this; I’ve been watching SATC again so it’s slipping into my writing.)

You were about five months into your relationship with Harrison, a budding actor from England who you’d quickly grown attached to briefly after he moved to Los Angeles to jumpstart his acting career. You accidentally ran into him once at a coffee shop, then again at a mutual friend’s party on the outskirts of Hollywood, and now, here you were, sitting on the couch in his apartment in the middle of watching a movie together.

Harrison was exactly the type of guy your mother used to warn you about, truth be told. He was tall, charming, and someone whose career was starting to kick off. It was a dangerous combination, or at least, that’s what she used to tell you all the time. 

But even so, you were content in your relationship with Harrison. You spent your weekday and weekend nights at his apartment, which he happened to share with his equally fun roommate, Tom. Sometimes, you got to accompany him to friends’ parties, where you’d meet just a small portion of people on the lower-tier of fame in Hollywood.

Except there was just one problem.

At the five month mark, you still had not told each other that you loved each other.

In fact, you avidly danced around it. In the past, it hadn’t been an issue. You and Harrison just went out on your dates — being careful to hide them from the public eye — and would then spend the night at each other’s apartments. Now, there were times when he’d simply be breathing next to you and the city’s street lights would filter through the curtain slightly to show you the slopes of his face, and you were so tempted to just say it out loud. Or he’d do something so extraordinarily romantic that you felt the words threaten to slip off your tongue.

You kept telling yourself not to say it yet. You definitely didn’t think Harrison was ready to hear it; he was still getting used to you leaving some of your own items in his apartment, and in general, adjusting to having a serious girlfriend after casually hooking up with people for so long. There was no way of telling how he’d even process it.

So you kept your mouth shut.

***

You were both sitting on the couch in his living room. Your legs were propped up on his lap, and you were sprawled across the couch, while Harrison sat upwards and relaxed into the couch. You were watching a new horror movie on Netflix which you’d both been meaning to get to for a while. Tom was out for the next couple of weeks as he finished another film. Things were calm.

You glanced over at him, watching him intensely focus on the television screen in front of the two of you. One of his hands was resting on your leg, simply drawing small circles. You thought of how if you and Harrison ever officially decided to tie the knot on this whole thing, it could be the two of you like this almost every day. There might be a kid sprinting and screaming into the living room at some point, or a dog that would leap up onto both of your laps even. You smiled at the thought.

Harrison looked over at you, a small smirk on his face. “What’s going on babe?” he asked teasingly. You bit your lip and shook your head.

He then proceeded to crawl over you, until he was propped up on his hands peering down at you. You giggled, one of your hands coming up to caress his cheek, as the noises from the television continued in the background. He kissed you softly on his couch and you felt yourself warm up with joy.

“You look so beautiful,” he said, and your smile grew. “You want to stick around for dinner? I’ll cook.”

You nodded your head. You loved whenever Harrison decided to cook for you — it was always a rare occasion, but that’s always how you were able to tell how special you were to him. He would call you pet names often and spend time with you, but it was these rare moments when he really pampered you that you realized exactly how much he cared about you.

So after the movie wrapped, you sat up on his kitchen counter and started drinking a glass of wine as he started cooking in the kitchen. He was making lemon chicken and rice tonight, simple but filling. You happily drank your wine as you watched him dribble some oil into the pan. You just looked over at him as he cooked, with a small smile still stretched across your face. He was doing what he normally does — teasing you, lightly brushing against you, and cooking for you. There was nothing particularly special about the moment itself, but looking at him in the yellow-lighting of his kitchen, you knew you couldn’t hold those three words in any longer. They were practically begging to slip off your tongue.

“I love you,” you spoke.

You felt liberated as soon as the words left your lips. It felt nice to say it.  

Harrison’s eyes shot over to you, utterly confused. It was silent for a moment in the apartment. A sense of dread loomed over you.

“Oh,” he said.

Well fuck.

It was oddly silent for a moment, as you figured out how the best way to go about this would be. You didn’t want to apologize since you didn’t regret saying it and that would just be dumb. Yet, you also didn’t want to say, “You don’t have to say it back,” because well, you wanted him so badly to say it back without giving him a cop out.

Instead, he was the one who made the decision by entirely changing the topic.

You felt your heart drop a bit in your chest, but stuck around anyway. At least for the food.

***

“You two still haven’t addressed it?”

You were at lunch with your friend, Zendaya, filling her in on the whole thing. She insisted this time you both go to the Cheesecake Factory, and you were happily chewing on some noodles when she asked you the question, completely stunned.

“Nope, he hasn’t brought it up since,” you said. “I don’t know what to do about it. It feels like a fucking elephant in the room.”

She took a sip of her water and her eyes flickered up — usually her action for when she was processing something.

“I think you should ask him about it. Like, at least talk about where his head is at,” she replied. “It’s not doing good for either of you to just let that sit there.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but you know how Harrison is. He’s one of the most closed off people I’ve met in a while.” You stir your straw around in your water.

“Well, you should start asking for more; do it for yourself.”

***

You were out for a dinner date with Harrison in the outskirts of Los Angeles. It wasn’t the first date since you slipped out the “L” word, so things weren’t as uncomfortable as they were on the prior dates. Admittedly, you were hoping he’d decide to bring it back up out of the blue — at least to say something substantial about it.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, a small smile curling up on his lips as he took another sip from his glass of wine.

“You,” you answered. Your foot came up to nudge his slightly and he grinned. You hated that you were almost always finding touching ways to touch Harrison, but you couldn’t help it. He was just that damn intoxicating.

“What about me?” he asked, leaning back slightly in his seat.

“That’s an at the apartment conversation,” you teased, letting it sound minorly suggestive. He grinned at your response, while internally, your own response was filled with anxiety. Zendaya was absolutely right; you needed to desperately talk about your relationship with Harrison. You owed it to yourself to get answers for yourself, but you had a sinking feeling that this was going to be a determining moment in your relationship. You crossed your fingers Harrison wouldn’t disappoint you.

You continued the rest of the dinner talking about upcoming things in each other’s lives. Harrison had a project he was auditioning for, and another party this weekend he was inviting you to. You were mostly just working and spending time with your friends.

By the time you were back at Harrison and Tom’s apartment, you were in high spirits. You were ready to kick off your heels and throw your denim jacket onto the couch so you could sink comfortably into his plush mattress.

As soon as Harrison shut the door, he came up behind you, instead slowly and gently helping you slip off your jacket, then placing it on the coat rack. He kissed your cheek and murmured, “So, what was that thing you were thinking about that you couldn’t tell me in the restaurant?”

You froze up.

You could either play this two ways: 1) You could continue along the suggestive banter and hop into bed with your boyfriend or 2) Tell him what you were really feeling.

You thought of Zendaya’s earlier pep talk, and decided option two was the best one for you.

“Well, I actually had to talk to you about something serious,” you said, pulling away from him. His face, once smug, turned serious. You took a step back into the living room of Harrison’s apartment, and slipped on to his leather couch. You felt jittery, either with adrenaline or anxiety, as you continued, “You know how the other day when we were in the kitchen while you were cooking.”

Harrison nodded. You could see realization lapse on his face. You decided to look away from him, biting your lip as you thought of the best way to phrase this. You didn’t think you’d follow through with confronting him about it if you looked at him. He was too beautiful, too charming to where at certain points you absolutely lost all your focus and simply moved back into his arms.

Finally, you spoke again, “I said something really significant to you, remember? And you- you didn’t even react to it. I’m just bringing it up now because I need to know if this relationship- if we’re worth the time.”

You nearly choked as the words left your throat. You hated the even remote suggestion of breaking up, but it’d been five months at this point. And you deserve someone who was going to be willing to be brave with you and who would say the things that were sometimes scary to say.

You looked up at him, seeing the frenzied look in his eyes. You thought you’d handled this well by waiting until you both got back to the apartment and giving him a few days time to think about how he wanted to react to this. Now that you were, you could see he had no idea what he was doing.

“I- I just need more time,” he said. You immediately scoffed. “Listen, no, Y/N, really. I just need a bit more time to say it, okay? It’s not that I- I don’t-”

“Harrison, it’s been five months,” you said gently. “We’re serious with each other enough now at this point. It’s time. Just stop leading me on and tell me if we’re definite or not.”

“Hey, hold up, I don’t think that this whole thing indicates whether our relationship is worth it or not,” he said. He was suddenly determined and succinct again. “Listen, I like you. A lot. It just- it takes me a while to say it, all right?”

You let out a long breath, at least grateful now for somewhat of an answer, even if it wasn’t the one that you wanted to hear. There was a small part of you that was still worried about the whole thing. Had you ended up in a relationship with a guy who never wanted to settle down?

For the duration of your relationship, it always felt like you were the one trying to push for things ahead. You recalled the adjustment it took on his end for him to even save a drawer for you, or start inviting you to more elite events with his close friends. You knew he was taking it seriously, but it felt like he was lapses behind you sometimes in doing so.

But maybe you were just overthinking it all. You were certain of one thing — you needed some space tonight.

“All right, listen, I think I’m going to head back to my apartment tonight. I just think I need to take a step back for a while,” you said. You saw something shift in Harrison’s face, but you looked down before you could start analyzing it. “I’m sorry, I just need some space tonight.”

He didn’t really say much beyond a simple, “I understand.” You grabbed your jacket off the coat rack and head out into the street again. As soon as you were back in your car, you let out all the tears that had been bubbling over the course of the past few days from your own frustration.

You’d started playing a game unintentionally that you didn’t want to get yourself wrapped in. It was a game of always chasing after someone who was always so unattainable.

For once, you wanted the person to chase after you too.

***

You told your friend Zendaya two days later. Harrison still hadn’t called, and you’d been spending most of your days either by yourself or in the company of your best friends rather than your boyfriend. Every now and then you were tempted to send him a text to ask him how he was doing, but you held off, reminding yourself that you needed this time to just focus on you and to figure out what you wanted.

Zendaya was proud of you. She told you advice that you would think a lot about in the years to follow, “You can love him, but you have to love you more. And have faith in yourself that you’re going to find the person who will want to take the risk with you.”

***

Los Angeles was in an absolute downpour. You were used to the rain sweeping through every now and then, but almost never like this. It felt more like Seattle weather, than the weather of your sunshine state.

You were cooking in your kitchen, preparing a meal that was originally meant for two, but it was just going to be you tonight. Your speakers were softly playing your music on shuffle, and an old song from 5 Seconds of Summer started playing. You sang along, “I want you to want me this way, and I need you to need me to stay. If you say that you don’t feel a thing. If you don’t know, let me go.”

The song was a little bit too applicable to your situation, but you sung along anyway as you grilled the peppers and meat. You heard a light knock on your front door and headed over to it, thinking it was one of your neighbors. You were surprised when instead you found a slightly soaked and absolutely frantic Harrison. His blue eyes, usually cool and collected, looked absolutely wild.

“I love you okay?” he said immediately. You were slightly taken aback by his admittance. “I- I’ve known for a long time that I was in love with you. But I didn’t want to say it because I’ve never felt so much for a person and it scares me all right? And every single time the people I’ve known who have said it, they’ve always gotten hurt.” He cleared his throat. “But listen, I want to take the risk with you. I don’t- it doesn’t matter to me anymore if I get hurt at the end, because I want to be with you now. I want to play long game.”

You stared at him for a long moment, examining him under the dim-lighting of your apartment complex’s hallway. You were still processing it all, the fact that he’d driven and walked through the rain just to be with you tonight to tell you a small string of sentences.

But it was that string of sentences that meant everything to you.

“Why don’t you come in, handsome?” you said, widening the gap between you and the door so he could slip inside. He grinned and you shut the door behind him, immediately kissing him.

“I love you too, you idiot,” you said.

“M’sorry. I really am. I was being stupid,” he admitted. “But I love you so much, and I didn’t- I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“It’s all right. I’m glad you’re here now,” you replied. “I’m making dinner, come help.”

And while you cooked in the kitchen together, you couldn’t help but to think that you’d finally found the man who was ready to take the risk with you.

[thatonecurlygirl]

Vacation Time

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Luke Alvez x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Request: from Anon "She said the exact same thing about you." with Luke from Criminal Minds, maybe some fluff ;)

You lie there completely still, the sun’s rays bouncing off your SPF protected skin and the warm ocean breeze blows through your hair. You wiggle your toes, burrowing them into the hot North Carolina sand. You revel in how relaxing your vacation had been thus far, two days with no cases or interruptions as you spend nearly every moment on the beach with your friends. You were happy that you finally had the opportunity to kick back and be worry free for a while.

Everything had been pretty nonstop and high stress since you joined the team eight months ago. You felt that since you were new to the team that you had to prove yourself in some way, which just added more stress to your life. You were a little more relieved when you realized that the team trusts and respect Emily’s decision to hire you to the team. Still, even knowing that you felt as if you needed to show them that you belong.

“Hi pretty, thank you again for inviting us to stay here with you. The beach house is amazing.” Penelope says as she sits down beside you in the sand.

“Ah, no problem. I figured this would be a little more enjoyable; e than throwing out a couple hundred on a hotel near the beach. Plus, I hadn’t been here since I furnished the place a few months back, had to put it to use.” You smile, looking back behind you at the large beach house, waving at Luke as he walks out, dressed only in his swim trunks.

“He’s a hunk.” She says, nudging you as Like smiles and waves back at you.

“He’s gorgeous.” You sigh, watching him jog out to the water, passing Tara who is just wading out there in the salty ocean. “But we- uh we keep that confidential, just between you and I.” You gasp when you realize what you said.

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed but it’s not hard to tell. I’m not a profiler and I could tell.” She chuckles.

“Oh God, is it that noticeable? I mean it’s unprofessional, right? God, I’m like a teenage kid, crushing on the high school quarterback. It’s so embarrassing.” You groan, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh, I don’t blame you, he is a looker.”

“And has a good personality and in the same line of work. He’s the perfect guy.” You blush.

Luke catches your eye once again, this time as he emerges from the water. The fresh shine of water coats his light brown skin. Your eyes never leave him as he gets closer and closer, a smile growing wide on his face. Once he is directly in front of you, blocking the sun, he runs his fingers through his wet hair.

“Hey, the water is amazing.” Like states, nodding back toward the water.

“y/n was actually just about to head into the water.” Penelope states as she stands up, “and I’m going to see what Spencer is up to.” She smiles and heads back to the house.

Suddenly the sitting in the sand felt like the most uncomfortable place on the whole beach with Luke standing in front of you with a smile, urging you to go out to the water. You smile and take hold of his outstretched hand, letting him help you to your feet. You brush some sand from your legs as you walk to the water with him.

“It’s pretty awesome, what you’re doing, letting us vacation with you.” He smiles, nudging you as your feet slosh around in the water.

“It’s the least I can do. You all have been so welcoming since I joined the team.” You shrug.

“You know, you don’t have to prove yourself to us. We already know that you are a fantastic agent.” Tara says with an encouraging smile.

“She’s right, we never doubted that you are a good agent,” Luke says, casually slinging his arm around your shoulder.

The kind words from your friends and coworkers made you feel really good about yourself. Not to mention how Luke’s arm draped across your shoulders made you feel all giddy inside. Luke chuckles and withdraws his arms from around you, watching as his dog and your dog splash through the water together.

“Looks like they are enjoying themselves too.” You laugh at their romping splashes.

“Roxy loves to swim, looks like she enjoys playing with Ruby too.” Luke smiles, watching the dogs chase each other out of the water and around the beach. “Maybe we will have to get them together more often.” He suggests.

“Oh, but that would mean I would have to see you more often and I don’t think I could handle that.” You joke with a huge smile on your face.

“Oh really?” He chuckles.

“No, I’m just kidding. I think that’s a great idea.”

Tara laughs at the two of you as she makes her way out of the water and up to join Penelope and Spencer at the picnic table by the house. Spencer is busying himself with a two-inch thick book about something that more than likely would put you to sleep. Tara and Penelope, they watch you and Luke laugh and splash around in the water.

“They so have a thing for each other.” Tara smiles.

“It’s so obvious, it hurts,” Penelope says hand on her chest and bottom lip poked out in a pout.

“y/n and Luke?” Spencer asks, joining in on the conversation. Tara nods and Spencer chuckles, looking out at the two of you. “Yeah, it’s really obvious.”

Colored lights dance across the walls as several warm bodies dance around the club. Loud music plays and the bass vibrates the floors, the bar, and every cell in your body. You weren’t usually one to let loose by going to a club to dance and have a few drinks but the vacation with your work friends gave you a sense of freedom and you seized the opportunity to have fun.

Luke was the one that suggested that you all go. Hell, he was the only reason you were even on the dance floor. He walked out there with a smile, hips swaying and body moving in ways you’ve never seen him more before. man, he was so alluring. At first, you fought the urge to watch him, stare at his body rilled and girls dances alongside and against hi,. When you finally decided to give in and look up at him, you saw he was walking toward you with a smile.

“Come on,” He says, extending his hand out to you.

“Okay.” You smile back, taking his hand and letting him lead you out to dance with him.

You could honestly say you had never had this much fun dancing. You were having the time of your life, dancing and laughing with your extremely handsome coworker but you made sure to keep it professional. You continued to dance after Luke left, promising to come back with drinks, fighting through the crowd to make the bar.

“She’s so adorable, I love her to pieces,” Penelope says as Luke walks up to the bar beside her.

“Yeah, she’s got a great personality too. She’s the perfect girl.” He says looking at you in awe but looks at Penelope with wide eyes when he realizes he said that out loud. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

Penelope laughs, withdrawing the fruity drink straw from her lips, “Funny, she said the exact same thing about you.” Is all she says before walking away.

Luke stands there at the bar, confused at first but a smile slowly starts to creep up on his face. He didn’t realize how long he was taking until he saw your hands waving in front of his face. He clears his throat and stands up straight, looking you in the eye.

“Where’d you go Alvez?” You laugh, dropping your hand to your side. “You spaced out there, smiling like a goof.” You pull out your vibrating phone and look down at the message.

“Yeah, uh- sorry. What do you want, beautiful.” He smiles at you, gently bumping you with his arm.

“Uhm, another vacation because it looks like ours is cut short.” You lift your phone, showing him the message. “Got a case here bright and early in the morning.” You sigh.

“Great.” He sighs, “Let’s get the other and head back.”

“Aye, aye captain.” You say under your breath but loud enough for him to hear and elicit a small laugh from him.

[whentommymetalfie]

To build a home

A/N:  Future fic- set around the same time as Homeward bound (which is set roughly 15 years later, when Alfie and Tommy have had enough of Horrible Shit constantly happening and are living on the countryside.) 

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy 

Summary: A lovely Sunday afternoon in the garden, and a just as lovely evening. Charlie is building a house, Cyril is not being helpful. Alfie and Tommy are still incredibly in love. 

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370709/chapters/33559275

The sun is shining from a sky free of clouds, filtering down through the leaves of the large oak tree that stretches its branches over the garden like a ceiling. Little pools of light are formed on the lawn in between the soft shadows.

“Look papa!” Charlie calls out from where he’s sat, right by the large trunk. “Look what I made!”

“I’ll be right there, darling,” Tommy calls back, digging the shovel deep into the muddy ground. He glances up, just to make sure Charlie doesn’t wander off. But Charlie has already gone back to his project, so he turns his attention back to his own.

The metal scrapes against the mud as he deposits another shovelful of it onto the growing pile. Charlie babbles to himself in the distance, caught up in whatever he’s playing at the moment. The shovel hits something solid, and Tommy has to use the sole of his boot to push it down.

A bird sings on a nearby branch.

The object turns out to be a large rock, and once he’s gotten it loose and hefted it onto the pile, Tommy has to pause for a moment to catch his breath, brushing back a strand of hair from his face. The air filling his lungs is crisp and clear, and comes easily down his throat.

Breathing is easy these days.

“Papa!” Charlie is a bit impatient.

Tommy leaves the shovel and goes to see what he’s so eager to show him.

“What do you have there, love?” he crouches down next to his son.

“Look!” Charlie repeats and points to his creation, a seemingly random pile of rocks. “I’ve built a horse house.”

Tommy refrains from pointing out that a ‘horse house’ is technically called a stable. Charlie hasn’t quite picked up on that yet, despite spending so much time with him there. He’s mostly noted that it’s a large house, filled with horses. Therefore, it must be a horse house. Tommy can’t really argue with this logic

“That’s lovely,” he nods approvingly and looks very carefully at the creation, showing great interest. Upon closer inspection, Tommy sees that it could indeed be a house. “Do you have any horses who can live in there, yet?”

Charlie nods and very gently picks up a collection of twigs.

“See, this is Carl. And this is his husband Oliver,” he points to the two largest ones. “And this is their baby, Wilfred.”

Tommy smiles and looks back to the house. “It’s a very nice house you’ve built for them.”

“You can help me,” Charlie beams as he sets down his little branch family. “I need to find a flat rock. It’s for the door.”

Right then, a loud bark echoes throughout the quiet garden, as a massive, furry shape bolts around the corner of the house and comes rushing towards them. A flock of terrified birds lift from their spot in the apple tree as the dog passes them, giving up another bark.

“Cyril!” Charlie exclaims and rushes to meet him, seemingly just as excited. Soon, the two meet in a fond tumble, Charlie wrapping his small arms around the dog’s neck as a wet tongue slobbers all over his face.

Tommy stands up too, but he’s more interested in seeing who Cyril has in tow.

Alfie comes walking down the gravel path leading around the house, rifle hanging in a strap over his shoulder and with a bright smile on his face. The sunlight catches in some of the silvery strands in his beard.

Even after all these years, the sight still sends a jolt through the pit of his stomach

“We have returned from our heroic pursuits!” Alfie calls out. “The birds have yet to defeat us.”

Tommy walks up to meet him, and soon finds himself wrapped in a tight embrace and swept off his feet with a kiss. Alfie runs his hands through his hair but Tommy refrains from doing the same, his own being coated in dirt. But he rests his arms over Alfie’s shoulders, closing his eyes as he deepens the kiss.

“Daddy, stop!” Charlie exclaims and jams his hands in between their legs, attempting to separate them. “You’re being silly.

Laughing, Alfie hoists him up into his arms.

“Oh, really? Well, just you wait a few years, you’ll be just as silly, lad.” He pokes a finger into his belly. “When you meet someone lovely, with beautiful eyes. Bet you anything you’ll change your mind then.”

Charlie makes motion with his eyes that is probably supposed to be an eye roll, but he hasn’t quite mastered it yet. “Come look at my horse-house instead.”

“I’ve got to say hello first, don’t I?” Alfie grins slyly and digs another finger into his side.

Charlie shrieks with laughter when Alfie tickles him.

“Let me have a look at that house of yours,” he says once he’s finished tormenting their son, putting him back on his feet.

“Horse house,” Charlie points out, wagging a stern finger, before running ahead through the garden with Cyril jumping in circles around him. Alfie’s arm comes to rest around Tommy’s waist as they follow.

“How’s the trench coming along?” he squints in the sunlight, eyes turned towards the edge of the garden. “Seems like you’re doing one hell of a job over there.”

“Well, digging is my special skill, you know” Tommy says.

“Yeah, funny that. Almost as if you’ve done it before, innit” Alfie chuckles, before adding in a soft tone, “But you know we could have someone else do it, yeah? Just say the word.”

“I’m attempting a sweeping romantic gesture here.” Tommy elbows him lightly in the ribs. “To even the playing field a bit. You wanted more room for your potatoes, I’m giving you more room for them.”

Alfie kisses his cheek, and doesn’t push the matter. He’s long since learnt to notice when Tommy’s having a bad day, and this is not one of them. No, this is one of those days when the dark memories are far away. There are a lot of those now. His head is so filled with other things –Alfie, Charlie, the horses… there’s hardly any room for anything else. They still linger at the back of his mind, and on some days, they’ll be closer, clinging just at the edge of his consciousness. It’s not too bad- he gets through it quite easily by occupying himself with other things. But he doesn’t touch the shovel on those days.

“Why are you walking so slowly!” Charlie calls to them and they lengthen their steps a bit.

Alfie gets the same introduction to Charlie’s horses as Tommy, and he listens with undivided interest. Then, Charlie thinks they should help him find a flat rock that he can use for a door.

As the sun sinks behind the trees and the air slowly cools around them, Alfie and Tommy help find Charlie several flat rocks, Cyril brings large sticks which are of no use, and Charlie supervises the whole thing.

They end up staying in the garden for several hours, until Alfie finally decides that people in this household need to eat.

“I’ll make us some dinner,” he says and gets up from his spot by the tree where he's seated himself, giving Cyril a pat on the head in passing. “Someone has to keep you two running, right?”

Tommy stays out in the garden with Charlie, who is not at all in the mood to go inside. And it’s been a week of rain, so how could he deny him that? He does manage to get him indoors for dinner, but as soon as he’s finished eating, Charlie is out the door again, eager to make the most out of the remaining hours of sunlight.

Tommy watches him through the dining room window, still seated at the table. Charlie is digging through the pile of soil by the trench, probably in search of more rocks. He’ll need a bath after this… When his eyes slip down to his own hands, he notices that he hasn’t quite gotten all the dirt out from under his nails. It’s on his shirtsleeves too, but he’s just forgotten about it until now...

“Go wash up if you’d like, love,” Alfie says and begins stacking the plates. “Know how much you hate looking anything but absolutely pristine. I’ll take care of this. As the bloody exemplary specimen of a man I am.” He chuckles to himself. “You can show me later just how grateful you are, eh? In bed-“

“It’s fine,” Tommy says.

Charlie is deeply concentrated on adding a wall around his project, balancing small rocks on top of each other.

“Hey-“

Tommy shifts his gaze to Alfie, who is giving him a reassuring look.

“It’s our back garden, innit, ain’t a bloody thing that could happen,” he says, seeing straight through him as usual. “I’ll keep an eye on him, yeah?”

Of course Tommy knows nothing will happen. Logically. It’s still hard, this. Years of constant watchfulness have ingrained the feeling into his backbone. He thought he’d chafed most of it away, but apparently being a parent comes with a whole new set of rules.

He goes upstairs anyway, reasoning that he needs to learn not to be so fucking paranoid all the time.

When he returns to the kitchen a little while later, now dressed in a fresh set of clothes and overall pleasantly clean again, he looks out the kitchen window to find the lawn empty.

“Where’s Charlie?”

Alfie looks up from the dishes and glances out the window.

“Oh he was there just a second ago. Probably just behind one of the trees or something,” Alfie says absentmindedly, going back to the dishes as he hums quietly to himself.

Tommy goes out in the garden.

“Charlie!”

The garden is gaping empty. Forgoing shoes, Tommy walks barefoot out onto the lawn, damp grass chilling the soles of his feat. Charlie isn’t in any of his usual hiding places, behind the rose bushes or the large oak. It only takes those few seconds for all the old instincts to kick in, shooting like an arrow straight down his spine and making a cold lump settle in the pit of his stomach. His right hand instantly reaches for his gun, fingers grasping nothing but air. It’s been a long time since he had the weight of the holster resting against his ribs, but the habit is deeply ingrained.

“Charlie?” he calls out again, still without receiving an answer.

The evening is calm, filled with birdsong and bathing in the soft light of a setting sun and it somehow feels deceptive-

He hasn’t heard a car. Was only gone for a few minutes. There’s no way-

The silence is broken by a familiar bark.

Slipping in through the opening in the low wall surrounding the garden, Cyril comes running with Charlie in tow. Tommy feels the tightness in his chest melt away and he draws a deep breath all the way down into his lungs, a relieved smile crossing his face as he watches the pair approach him.

“Cyril chased a rabbit and I followed him!” Charlie pants and rests his hands on his knees, cheeks flushed from the run. “But it got away.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” Tommy says and puts a hand on his back, ushering him towards the door. “Cyril should leave the poor rabbits alone. He knows that,” He scratches the dog behind the ears. “Don’t you Cyril?”

“Yeah, he’s clever. He just does what he wants sometimes.” Charlie attempts to go back into the garden as Tommy leads him into the kitchen.

“No, it’s time for bed now,” Tommy states. “There’s a day tomorrow, too.”

“There’s a day now!” Charlie protests and squirms a little. “Look, it’s still sunny!”

Sunny is a question of definition –some lingering light is painting the horizon in a pink hue, but there’s no sun to speak of. Definitely time for bed.

“I’ll read you an extra chapter,” Tommy coaxes and begins to close the door behind them

“I just need to fetch the horses!” Charlie slips out through the crack before Tommy has time to stop him.

“Just like his father, ain’t he?” Alfie comes up behind him and wraps his arms around waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Impossible to keep still more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Let’s just hope he finds someone who can keep up then,” Tommy says, leaning into the embrace. He is enveloped in a clean scent of soap as he rests the back of his head against Alfie’s chest. “Help ground him a bit.”

“Luckiest bastard on earth, they'll be,” Alfie states and holds him a bit tighter.

They stay like that for a while, looking out at Charlie who already has forgotten all about sleeping and is adding more rocks onto his ‘horse house’. Tommy decides that if anyone is ever to get some sleep around this house, he’ll have to do something about the situation.

“Charlie!” he calls out to the boy. “Bed. Now.”

“But I’ve got stuff to do!” Charlie whines.

Alfie chuckles fondly and presses a kiss onto Tommy’s cheek. Then he goes to fetch their son.

“Well, then I guess we’re doing it the hard way,” he says and takes Charlie into his arms, hoisting him high up in the air and making him shriek with joy.

“Wait, the horses!” Charlie points towards his sticks. “They need to sleep indoors until the house is finished. They’ll get a cold.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Alfie says. “Horse colds are the worst colds, from what I’ve heard. Awful stuff.” With Charlie on one arm, Alfie bends down and carefully picks up the sticks, depositing them in Charlie’s hands, before making his way towards the house again.

Tommy stands in the doorway and waits for them. His husband. Holding their son in his arms.

Sometimes, he can’t quite believe that he got to be this lucky. After everything.

A little while later, Charlie is, despite his protests, freshly bathed and safely tucked in bed. Alfie is downstairs in the kitchen presumably making a bread dough, and Tommy hears him tinker with the dishware and make quiet small talk with Cyril. He turns off the light in Charlie’s bedroom, leaving just one on the nightstand.

“So, where were we?” He sits down next to Charlie in the bed and puts his glasses on, opening the book to search for the right chapter.

“They are in the old house, and the bad guys are looking for them,” Charlie reminds him, nestling a little closer into his side and letting out a pleased sigh. It makes Tommy's heart ache in his chest.

It should be impossible to love someone this much.

He finds the page and begins reading.

“Carl crouches down in front of the door and looks through the keyhole. ‘We should’ve had a newspaper,’ he ponders. Eve frowns. ‘Do you really think it says in the paper how to get out of locked rooms?’-“

“Do the voices,” Charlie pats his arm lightly.

Tommy does the voices.

Well into the second chapter, he senses someone watching them and glances up from the page to see Alfie standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and with a fond smile behind the beard.

“Why don’t you come in here instead of just lurking?” Tommy looks back down at the page and adjusts his glasses a bit.

“Yes!” Charlie exclaims. “It’s really exciting.”

“Think I’ve had me enough excitement to last a lifetime,” Alfie says, but comes in anyway, Cyril following close behind as usual.

Charlie gets to sit in Alfie’s lap to make room, and Tommy curls up against his side. The position is so familiar that he sinks into it without even thinking, head resting on the usual spot right in the juncture between Alfie’s shoulder and his chest.

He continues reading.

After three chapters, Tommy closes the book. He’s felt Alfie’s arm grow heavier around his waist the last few minutes, and now he appears to have fallen asleep, head tipped backwards and mouth hanging open just slightly. Charlie isn’t fully awake either, but still protests.

“No, one more,” he yawns, blinking in an attempt to keep his eyes open.

“That’s enough for tonight, love,” Tommy kisses his forehead. “I’ve got to put your daddy to bed. Or you’ll have to suffer his snoring all night.”

Alfie opens one eye.

“What is this I hear?” he mutters and yawns as well. “I never snore. Such blatant lies.”

“You do snore,” Charlie states and looks slyly at him. For a moment, Tommy tenses up just a bit and feels heat creep up his neck, thinking of all the other things Charlie could hear from the bedroom…

“When you fall asleep on the couch,” Charlie concludes before yawning again and Alfie laughs, giving Tommy a smug look.

Charlie is already more or less asleep when Alfie tucks him in and Tommy closes the curtains to block out the bright spring night.

“Where’s Horse?” Charlie mutters and blearily looks around the bed.

“That creature is constantly on the run, ain’t he?” Alfie sighs, carefully pulling the blanket up around him. “You sure he ain’t secretly alive and starts walking about the minute you look away? Would sure explain a thing or two.”

Lucky for both Charlie and Alfie, Tommy always knows where to find missing objects. This goes for both Alfie’s glasses and runaway plush toys.

He reaches in under the bed and finds Horse, placing the large dog stuffie in Charlie’s outstretched arms. When Finn gifted it to Charlie, he was at the age where every animal was a horse, due to the constant mention of the word at home. Cyril was a ‘horse’ too, for quite awhile. This also resulted in the quite imaginative name.

“I can’t change it now, he’ll be confused,” Charlie stated once he was old enough to understand that pets usually have actual names. And so Horse -the dog- got to keep the name.

“So, Horse is safely returned, and all is well,” Tommy smooths Charlie’s hair back and kisses his forehead. “Think we can say goodnight now?”

“Mhm,” Charlie sinks a little deeper into the pillow. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Alfie carefully steps over Cyril, who is sound asleep on the carpet to kiss Charlie on the cheek, making him giggle a bit when the beard tickles him. “Sleep tight.”

Tommy is lingering in the doorway and Alfie’s hand settles on the small of his back as he leads the way out into the hallway, carefully closing the door. He makes sure to leave a tiny crack where light can seep in.

“So, we have the rest of the evening to ourselves,” Alfie whispers. “Should we go downstairs for a while? Or straight to bed, eh? For some not so child-friendly activities?” His hand slips a bit further down.

“I was thinking of the not so child friendly activity of having a drink,” Tommy raises an eyebrow. “But after that, I may just be in the mood.”

“How about you slip into something a bit more comfortable then, love?” Alfie suggests. “Give us something pretty to look at. And I’ll get a fire going.”

“When you say comfortable, I assume you don’t mean your old flannel shirt?”

“Maybe if you wear only that.” Alfie wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and the gesture just makes Tommy shake his head, letting out a short laugh.

“I'll see what I can do,” he promises. “I aim to please.”

While Alfie goes down to the living room, Tommy strips to his underclothes and slips on the light grey silk robe, the one he knows Alfie likes, before venturing downstairs. He passes Charlie’s bedroom on the way, and can’t help looking in through the ajar door. Charlie appears to be sound asleep.

Alfie looks up from the fireplace when he comes into the living room,

“God have fucking mercy on my soul,” he groans and clutches his chest, getting to his feet. “I’m getting old, love. Sights like these could very well cause my heart to stop. Think of that.”

Tommy rolls his eyes at the theatrics, but has long since stopped trying to hide the smile they always bring to his face. He pours himself a whiskey that he sets down on the coffee table.

“Well, you should stop buying me these, then,” he quips and lights a cigarette, seating himself on the couch. “For your own health.”

“Think I’ll take my chances,” Alfie sits down next to him, setting his feet on the ottoman and running a hand over his shoulders. “I’d die a happy man, at the very least.”

Tommy reaches up and takes the hand, gracing his thumb over the rings. He pays a little extra attention to the one on his ring finger.

“So, tell me about your day.” He takes a drag on his cigarette. “How did your and John’s war on innocent birds go?”

“Ah, well, that’s a story worth telling,” Alfie states and sinks a bit further down in the couch, resting heavy hand on Tommy’s thigh.

Alfie tells him in great detail of his day, the story dragging on as usual. It lasts until Tommy has finished his cigarette and has Alfie’s head in his lap, combing his fingers through his hair. He swallows down the last bit of his whiskey and sets the glass down.

“John and Esme are having another kid,” Alfie says, suddenly. “John’s fucking ecstatic about it. Told me earlier today, he did. In between all the cursing.” He laughs to himself. “Bloody, hell, for all the years that gun’s been fucking welded to his hand, he’s a pretty lousy shot, your brother.”

Tommy hums.

Alfie continues. “Don’t let Esme know I tattled, though. Recon she’s planning on telling you lot at Sunday dinner.”

“Starting to get pretty crowded over there,” Tommy muses and leans his head against the back of the couch. The comment makes Alfie chuckle again.

“Oh darling, if I could put a baby in you, this house would be filled to the brim with’em,” he says fondly and runs a hand over his stomach. “Could have ten. Twelve. Easily.”

“I’m well aware,” Tommy says and quirks an eyebrow. “Lucky then that we need to take a slightly longer route.” He trails his thumb over the lines on Alfie’s forehead. “Don’t know if I’d be up for quite that many.” The flames cast a warm light on Alfie's face, enhancing all the little lines and angles, and Tommy thinks, as he so often does, that he’s married to the most handsome man in the entire bloody world.

A light breeze makes the curtains flutter and brings the sound of distant birdsong into the room. Alfie’s hand is still absentmindedly resting on his stomach.

“But maybe… one more?” he suggests carefully, as if he’s been considering whether to ask or not for an uncharacteristically long time.

The question doesn’t really surprise Tommy. He knows Alfie’s previous statement isn’t one of his usual exaggerations; Alfie would happily fill their entire, quite large, home with children.

Tommy thinks of the very first time they spoke about this; how utterly terrifying the mere idea felt. It seems like an eternity ago. And this time, he just looks down at Alfie and feels nothing but calm. Thinks of their son who is sleeping safely upstairs, and thinks that with this man, nothing is completely impossible. Apparently.

And he would be lying if he said the thought hasn’t crossed his mind. Then again, a lot of thoughts do.

“Maybe,” he says, feeling a smile tug at his lips and leaves it at that for now.

In one of his usual sweeping gestures, Alfie sits up, pulls him into his lap and in for a kiss, his strong arms encircling Tommy’s waist. Tommy revels in it, as usual. This is just one of all the things that have only gotten better over the years. Tommy can’t quite understand people who tire of kissing the same person. He buries his hands in Alfie’s hair and loses himself in it, feeling a hand wander up his thigh. Alfie nips just lightly at his lips, sighing into his mouth and deepening the kiss.

Tommy is just about to suggest they move this to the bedroom when the floorboards creek as two small feet pad across them, and they break the kiss to see Charlie appear in the living room with Horse firmly clasped in his arms.

“What are you doing?” he asks with a six-year-olds usual curiosity.

“Charlie, thought you’d be asleep by now,” Tommy says softly and gets out of Alfie’s lap. Charlie shakes his head.

“Can I sit here with you for a while?”

“Of course, darling,” Alfie opens his arms invitingly and smiles. “Just look at these arms. Plenty of room for both my boys.”

Running over the floor on bare feet, Charlie more or less leaps onto Alfie’s lap, burrowing himself in his chest. Alfie wraps one arm around Tommy and the other around Charlie.

Charlie doesn’t say anything for a while, just seems perfectly content with simply sitting there

“Any reason you couldn’t sleep?” Tommy eventually asks quietly.

Charlie shrugs. “Just couldn’t. And it’s boring to be awake all alone.” He pauses, before hesitantly adding. “And Horse thinks there’s something under the bed.”

“Would it help if I checked?” Tommy wonders.

“No. Because it’s only there when you’re not looking,” Charlie states firmly, rubbing his eyes. “And Cyril is asleep.”

“How about we try our bed, then?” Alfie suggests and strokes his hair. “Pretty sure it’s free of mysterious intruders. And it’s a huge thing, innit. So we’ll all fit.”

Charlie gives a sleepy sigh, clearly very much in need of a bed. “Okay.”

The bed is a huge thing indeed, but they still end up huddled together in the middle with Charlie between them.

Apparently feeling safe knowing there are no creatures under this bed Charlie is sound asleep within moments, but they silently agree not to move him. And the only creature coming into the bedroom is Cyril, who wants to be where everyone else is. The dog jumps onto the foot of the bed and Tommy lets out a displeased huff, mostly on principle, but of course lets him stay there.

“They really are something else, aren’t they.” Alfie is looking at Charlie with so much tenderness that his face seems to glow. “Kids,” he adds, as if Tommy would need further clarification. And he thinks that maybe another one isn’t such a bad idea. He doesn’t say it yet, needs some time to think it over. But he smiles at Alfie through the darkness of the bedroom, reaching across Charlie’s sleeping form to take his hand. Perhaps Alfie can see what’s running through his mind, because he strokes his knuckles softly.

Charlie mutters something in his sleep. Tommy looks at him. And he realises he doesn’t actually need that much time.